#I tagged this eight ways to sunday so

[eorzeashan]

still having brainrot over Eight and Lana's own commander-and-outlander relationship bc i can't fucking sleep and have to make flop posts, but the day before he leaves is the day they sit down with one another atop his ship, watching the sunrise. (I guess this counts as a WIP whenever but I've slacked so hard this month I don't even remember how or what i've been tagged in...OTL)

they've both been made aware of one another. Lana's incomparably guilty. Eight looks at her and sighs.

"Be proud, Lana Beniko. Yours is the shield that our enemies dashed themselves on, that guaranteed a new future for all those you held dear. If you're at a loss for what to say to me: don't. No other would go so far. That is why we won."

For once in her life, Lana finds no speeches at the tip of her tongue, no ready-made phrasing that does just enough; she merely stares at her friend, (her hand), and stammers.

"I... don't know what to say. Eight, I..."

"I just told you not to." The spy feigns irritation with a roll of his eyes, then cracks a smile at her, faint and fleeting as the breaking dawn. "Neither of us were very good at listening to each other, were we."

An awkward silence descends on them. Lana is visibly discomforted, now made aware of the exact implications of such a statement. Eight had bent over backwards to follow her sense of right and wrong. Eight had devoted everything to heeding her call. She hadn't even known his reasons for doing so until the very end, blinded by her own eagerness to be saved. Her gloved hands grip the edge of their perch, white-knuckling them beneath the leather.

And she'd been none the wiser until she awoke one day to a slightly panicked holocall from base saying Eight was gone.

He'd fled. Deserted. In the traitor Theron's words, as he put it with uncharacteristic gravity to his features, "was it any surprise that he ran away? you used him-- and now he wants nothing to do with you or the Alliance. It's over."

The betrayal had stung almost as much as the revelation. They'd made up by now, but...

"Lana." Eight's voice pulls her out of her morose reverie, clear and lucid as day. His eyes lock with hers, piercing right into her soul. Lana's breath hitches, and his next words punch the air right out of her chest, like a battered hole in a damaged dreadnaught in the vacuum of space.

"Stop it. I know that look. Stop punishing yourself."

He grips her by the shoulders, shockingly earnest for a spy who concealed all emotion. Lana opens her mouth to speak, but instead of words coming forth- something unfathomable flows into her across the bridge of physical and mental contact, whisking her away on the tides of fate.

[minkdelovely]

love and power

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prelude

“ask for forgiveness,

never permission.”

Alastor x Fem!Reader ; MDNI 18+ ; [y/n] used sparingly ; Alias in Hell is Sylvie

tags: acid rain wound, cannibals living their best lives in cannibal town, slow burn eventual: smut, violence, toxic themes

word count: 1.7k

hello world! i currently have alastor brain rot and felt compelled to jump back into writing fan fiction. i’m a little rusty and i’m not sure how many parts there will be; i won’t deny that this is purely self-indulgent but i hope you enjoy all the same :)

prelude ; chapter one ; chapter two ; chapter three ; chapter four ; chapter five ; chapter six ; chapter seven ; chapter eight ; chapter nine ; chapter ten: part one ; chapter ten: part two

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Hell wasn’t what you had expected it to be. It was worse.

Thoughts of your grandmother rose to your mind, despite how desperately you tried to push them down. “Hell is the absence of God,” she would always say after one of her famous rants. A warning you perhaps would have heeded, had it been coming from a place of love instead of moral superiority. 

You had seen her on the streets of Hell a few times now, always sure to avoid catching her attention. The warm pleasure that bloomed in your chest was too precious to give up, despite knowing how good it would feel to rub her fate in her face. A lot of good all those Sunday mornings had done her, haughty bitch! You wondered how often your grandmother laid awake at night, desperate to know how she had ended up here. A wicked grin spread across your lips, revealing milky-pink fangs.

It was hard not to imagine the look your father would have given you if you could tell him she was here. He would definitely have scolded you, but you knew a small part of him would be amused. If calling her a bad grandmother was putting it lightly, she was an even worse mother-in-law. Hopefully you would never get the chance to tell him; Mother was waiting for him in Heaven, after all. And things should be much easier for him now, all things considered. Leaving him alone hadn’t been part of the plan, so all you could do was tell yourself that it had been worth it. Someday you would believe it.

Grandmother was right though, loathe as you were to admit it, and the feeling of loss burned through you every morning when you awoke. Every night, you dreamed of rain; the sound of it, the smell of it, the feeling of it coming down on you in the middle of the family garden. Oh, how you missed the garden. The dark, wet dirt. Blue puffs of hydrangea against stark-white azaleas, your mother’s coveted yellow roses. The Spanish Moss hanging like phantom sails off the branches of the huge oak tree in the corner, where your father had placed a bench and made a small pond. You would sit under that tree for hours lost in a book, listening to the sounds of the garden.

The fire and brimstone you could endure. It was the way everything else was twisted here that was grueling. As if feeling your lament, a drop of acid rain hit your window, quickly morphing into a full-blown storm. A frustrated growl erupted from you and you rolled onto your stomach, burying your head under your pillow and said a silent prayer to whatever force would grant mercy on your roof. You couldn’t afford to get it fixed again. The prayer had been answered just a moment after the rain stopped, when a drop of it fell from the ceiling and onto your pale, unsuspecting calf, your mattress absorbing the scream of pain that tore through your chest.

As the acid made its way through your leg, and eventually your mattress, all you could do was sob. Eternity… This was eternity. 

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If this morning had been good, the day could only now be considered grand.

There was really nothing quite like a post-rain stroll through Cannibal Town, witnessing the misfortune of partially-dissolved sinners who had been caught in the deluge being consumed on the streets by the lively, ever-hungry inhabitants. Alastor would never tire of this jovial bunch that called this part of the Pentagram home, reveling in the sound of screams, the crunching of bone, the almost-lewd and animalistic grunts of feasting.

Were Rosie not expecting him for tea, he might have allowed himself to join in on the fun. Alas, his only solace was that Rosie never served anything less than superb, being the excellent hostess that she is.

He was quite intrigued by her invitation to join her alone, which meant that this likely wasn’t anything to do with donating a small army of cannibals to aid in the fight against the Angels. Indeed, Charlie’s presence would be required once it was time to cash that favor in.

Not that he didn’t enjoy a casual visit (as casual a visit between Overlords could be), he couldn’t help but wonder. Thinking a few steps ahead was a must if one was going to thrive in Hell, and well, it was no secret that Alastor was doing a pretty fine job at that, all things considered. He began to whistle, earning a few gory smiles from cannibals who stopped mid-meal to enjoy the tune. A true honor.

Rosie opened the door for him before he even had the chance to knock, the “Closed for Rain” sign clattering against the glass as she cooed. “Alastorrr! Come in, come in, before it starts raining again.”

As if on queue, a roll of thunder tore through the clouds, drawing a cheer from the denizens of Cannibal Town in anticipation for round two. 

“Rosie, my dear, always an honor and a privilege to be deemed worthy of your company,” Alastor said, bowing his head as Rosie feigned a blush, leading him to the parlor where they would be taking their tea.

The usual pleasantries were exchanged between sips of tea, coffee, and candied organs, which Alastor forced himself to consume through sheer courtesy. It was all part of the art of visiting, one he quite enjoyed, and he would never shame his mother’s memory with bad manners. They had just finished a plate of finger sandwiches when Rosie leaned in slightly, the conspiring grin on her face letting him know that it was, at last, time for business.

“You’re always so good to indulge me, Alastor. It doesn’t go unnoticed,” she said, grinning as she motioned to a maid to come grab their empty plates. “I’m sure you’ve been dying to know why I asked you over here this afternoon.”

“Oh, Rosie, it’s purely selfish! You know how hard it is to find good company in this godforsaken place. I’m more than grateful to receive your hospitality,” he said with a trademark smile and flick of the wrist, leaning back in his chair as the maid cleared the table.

She had just turned to leave with their plates when the smile on his face nearly faltered. Was that… almond he smelled? It had been so long, but he was fairly certain it was. There was an underlying trace of blood, though that was common enough around here. But almond? It was too pleasant for Hell.

Rosie’s eyes darkened to match her grin, not missing the twitch of Alastor’s mouth. She knew he’d have been able to smell it. It seemed that so far only Hellborn could pick it up, but what would be the fun in letting him know that? 

“Divine, isn’t she? A walking pastry, but not much of a talker. I like to bring her around whenever a room needs some pizzazz! She would’ve been eaten alive had I not taken her in,” Rosie whispered cheekily, as the maid returned with a fresh kettle and a gelatin mold for dessert. Rosie, not missing a beat once the tray had been set down, turned to her with a smile. “Thank you dear, you can leave now. I’ll ring the bell if we need anything else.”

The maid gave a silent curtsy and left the room as instructed, her sweet scent clinging to the air. Since coming to Hell, he took pleasure in the taste of bloody iron, the bite of black coffee. But in life… Memories of marzipan and frangipane tarts swam in his mind. And hadn’t Mother used almonds in her cherry pie crust? It took Alastor all he had not to drool, unsettled by the sudden rush of saliva in his mouth. Ages had passed since he last thought of such sweet things. He cleared his throat with as much grace as he could muster. Rosie only grinned.

“Well, she’s certainly new, so I suppose it’s not surprising she doesn’t talk much. It’s quite easy to tell when a sinner is… adjusting. So morose! You’re very gracious to have taken her on.” Alastor took a sip of coffee, desperate to get that almond smell out of his nostrils. 

“We both seem to be rather gracious these days, don’t you think?”

And there it was.

Rosie sat back in her chair and crossed her legs as she continued. “I was actually wondering if perhaps she might fare better in that hotel you’re running. Don’t get me wrong, she smells incredible, but fuck does she suck the air out of a room once the novelty wears off. She was scaring away clients, and you know it’s pretty bad if cannibals are uneasy around you for Christ’s sake, which is why I had her start working back here, but…”

Alastor had to resist gripping his knee, putting all his effort into maintaining a pleasant face. He had expected to be asked for a favor of sorts, but never did he imagine that Rosie wanted him to take on an employee. She’s had sinners sign contracts for little less than a new parasol, let alone a job. There was something more to this.

And beyond being an air freshener, what good was she for, really? He could deal with quiet, but to have to put up with yet another sulky face! What he had done to deserve it, he didn’t know.

But he knew there wasn’t really a choice other than to take the poor creature into his charge. Rosie was an alley he deeply cherished, and he was already in her debt for the help she had provided just weeks ago. This was no doubt the first part of paying that debt back, a sign of goodwill. Not every deal was beneficial from the start; still, Alastor wouldn’t outright accept the offer. That was part of the fun.

“Well we already have a maid,” Alastor said gently, “but after the recent renovation, we are anticipating more sinners to check in. Not that I doubt Niffty’s abilities, but I suppose she could do with some help when business picks up. How long were you thinking of lending her to our cause?”

Rosie waved her hand. “Lend? Oh, honey, if you’re willing to take her, she’s yours. I’ve got plenty of helping hands, but it does me no good to have such a wet blanket hanging around. There’s just the matter of…,” Rosie trailed off as she reached into her purse, retrieving what Alastor already knew she had been grabbing for, “…her contract.”

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[youreyeson1y]

still got so much to find out

pairing: bang chan x producer!reader(f)

title:i like it by stray kids (album: ate)

cw: swearing, mentions of drinking/getting drunk

synopsis: chan thought there was something between you both, but when he saw you put your arms around hyunjin's waist as if it were the most natural thing in the world, he began questioning the whole situation.

tags: fluff, mutual pining-ish, miscommunication-ish heh, stubid :( and petty chan, minor minho + chan bonding, loong exposition, hwang siblings = real siblings (!!)

link: ao3

note: there were some issues with the povs I faced while writing this, so for the first part, it'll be in 2nd person, while the last 3/4th of the story is in 3rd person. sorry for the confusion !

word count: 2.9k

enjoy !

“I think you need help, man.”

“What’chu talking about, I’m fine.” The man you were basically carrying on one shoulder tried to stand up, tripping over his feet and words.

“See?” He stumbled, standing up on one foot to prove his sobriety. “Are you proud of me now?” He flashed an endearing smile at you. Your face flushed at the sudden eye contact. You covered it with a groan as Chris fell right into your arms again. 

Instead of the quiet evening you had planned, you had never imagined that you'd end up spending your Sunday night at a restaurant watching over eight guys drinking as if it's their last day and telling a very drunk Christopher that you were proud of him for standing up.

You turned around as you heard a click sound behind you, and saw a chuckling Felix clicking pictures of their leader. 

“Aw man,” Jeongin looked over his shoulders. “That has such good blackmail potential.” 

“Or a really cute birthday post.” Felix cackled. 

“Hey, come on now guys, don’t—” Felix turns his screen towards you with a smirk. “—forget to send that picture to me. Anyway, instead of smiling like fools, come here and help me get him in the car.” 

Changbin and Jisung walk towards you, followed by Minho and Seungmin, who were the most sober of the bunch, and helped carry Chan off of your shoulders. 

“Hey, no, wait,” Chris whined as soon as Changbin pulled him off of you, his senses seeming to come back to him. “Let me drop you home, y/n.” 

“Chan,” Your eyes went soft with a smile. “I would love to, but neither of us are sober enough to drive, and I—” 

“She's coming with me, man, not with your drunk ass,” Hyunjin walked over, casually draping an arm over your shoulders. “Lets get going, y/n. We can't be late.”

As you gave Christopher’s hand a squeeze and walked over towards Hyunjin, it felt as if you had squeezed the life out of Chris. 

Had he misunderstood you this whole time? 

As Chris sat sandwiched between Jisung and Changbin in the backseat, he saw you and Hyunjin get into another car while you were giggling with an arm casually wrapped around his waist. 

As you got into the car, he saw Hyunjin hand you a present. 

Chris thought you and him had something going on; he didn't know what, but he sure felt something. And those feelings were stronger this evening, when each smile he brought out of you made his heart ache and his lips twitch up. 

But was it only him who was feeling that way? 

“You okay, Chris?” Minho called out from the driver's seat, looking over at him with concerned eyes. “I've never seen you drink so much.” 

“Ah, yeah, don't worry about me,” He rubbed his face with a groan, the effect of the alcohol making him tired. He smiled as he felt Changbin and Jisung’s heads fall on his shoulders with a soft thud. “You know how hectic it has been with the new single. I guess I just wanted to let loose for a moment.” 

“I get it,” Minho paused, debating on whether to continue or not. “I just… I hope you're not pushing yourself too much, Chan. We're here to help you if you need… and y/n’s here too. So just, reach out, okay?” 

“Mhm,” Chris smiled. “I will. Thanks, Minho.” 

Usually it would seem weird that they were having a heart to heart after a night-out when one of them was sober, but Chris understood where Minho was coming from. 

It was unusual for Chris to drink, let alone get drunk, so he might think that something was on his mind for him to drink like that. 

But little did Minho know, it wasn't something, but rather someone. 

Chan wasn't even planning on drinking, knowing he had a producing session the next day, but when his stupid friends suggested a game of a shot for a secret, he couldn't help but comply, intoxicated not by the soju, but by the need to learn more, to know more about you.

But as he remembered seeing you wrap an arm around Hyunjin as if it was the most natural thing in the world, Christopher didn't know what to feel. 

The only thing he was sure of now was that no matter how he felt, the feelings of his brother came first; he could never do something that would hurt Hyunjin, or put you in an awkward position. 

Y/N, although a fairly new producer at JYPE, was already popular amongst other artists. She had almost received a celebrity status, when even the public knew a song produced by y/n was sure to top the charts. 

But as a kpop fan since her younger days, for y/n, her job was more like a paid hobby, where she got to meet and collaborate with other artists.

So, when she was proposed to co-produce several songs for Stray Kids’ new album, she jumped at the opportunity; not only because of the group’s popularity, but also because she was a die-hard fan of the group. 

She was obsessed with their music, their  vision and the momentous impact they’d had on artists and fans around the globe— she felt honored that she would be able to leave her mark amongst their talent. 

She was excited to work with them; even while casually greeting them in the halls of the building, she found their energy to be highly contagious. And that feeling remained when she became close friends with the members only after a few weeks of working with them.  

While becoming friends with all the members, y/n couldn't help but want something more with a special member. 

Maybe she did have a tiny crush on him even before they started working together; greeting him in the elevator or bumping into him while getting coffee used to be the highlight of her day. 

But after spending more time together, it wasn't just his extremely handsome face, but he became incredibly attractive to her once she saw the way he treated those around him, his commanding but caring personality and his charming aura. 

Being co-producers, she always had to spend time with him, and looking at him in his element, his passion is what made her look up to him as a fellow artist too. 

Y/n was down bad, but how couldn't she be?

Because the person living rent free in her head was Christopher Bang of all people. 

But what excited her, was the fact that maybe she wasn't the only one feeling that way— 

From asking her to hang out with them during dance practice, to purposefully going on coffee-runs together, or going on late night drives on the guise of dropping her home when both of them knew they had drivers.  

Y/n couldn't help but feel delusional and believe that Chan was doing these small gestures as a way to spend more time with her. 

And maybe. Just maybe, her suspicions were proven right last night, when in a crowded restaurant, it felt like it was just the two of them. 

As the group decided to go out to celebrate, everyone expected Chan to look after them, as always, and stay relatively sober for his session the next day. But contrary to popular belief, when y/n saw him gulp down shot after shot to know more about her, y/n couldn't help but feel special. 

As the other members were immersed in their own conversation, Chris and y/n were in a different world.

They shared their hopes and dreams and desires, and the moment that y/n knew that this moment counted for something, that it was different, is when Chris told her, the most relaxed and genuine she had ever seen him, that “It's nice being just Chris, for once. Thank you for not being bored of Christopher y/n.” 

She knew as a leader, and as a performer in general, how much responsibility Chris had to shoulder on a daily basis. And hearing him say that made y/n feel somewhat proud of herself, for letting him let go for once. 

In the dead of night, when half the city was asleep, she whispered in the softest voice, almost unknowingly, as she helped him walk out of the restaurant. 

“I think I'm in love with you, Chris.” 

But as he stumbled over invisible rocks, y/n felt thankful for drunk Chris because spilling it out like that felt like a mistake. 

But once hearing it out loud, she understood these feelings were here to stay, so she decided she would have a conversation with him once he sobered up. 

But now, roughly an hour had passed of them sitting uncomfortably in the recording booth, and for the life of her, y/n couldn't figure out what the hell was going on with Christopher Bahng. 

As she had entered the recording booth an hour ago, she’d felt herself smiling instinctively as she saw Chris sitting on the couch, nervously clutching the hangover medicine in her hands.

“Hey,” Y/n stood in front of him with an uncharacteristically nervous smile. “How are you? Yesterday was wild, right? I brought hangover medicine for you… I wanted to make sure—”  

“Oh, I'm okay.” Chan replied nonchalantly, not looking up from his phone. “Just so you know Changbin and Jisung will be late, so you can probably save it for them, I guess.” 

This was different.

Chris, no matter how busy or preoccupied he was, always made an effort for the other person, may it be the other members or a polite barista. 

The thought hitting her like a pile of rocks, y/n realized what if he had actually heard her confession last night and this was his way of rejecting her? 

But no matter what, they still had to work on the songs together, and y/n thought maybe this was for the best, so that they could still continue working together as if nothing had happened, because no matter what, y/n did not want her own feelings to meddle with Stray Kids’ performance. 

But as an hour had passed with them making little to no progress on the new song, y/n was fed up. 

They usually had such good chemistry, and it felt like their production and arrangement styles merged perfectly, but honestly, she felt like Chris was being a major asshole now. 

Chan was working as if she wasn't even in the room, or when she made a suggestion, he added it without as much as a thought, making her feel as if he was just humouring her. 

Okay, maybe it was hard to work with someone you know has a crush on you, but did he have to act as if he couldn't even stand when your hands brushed together? 

Y/n was hurt, but as a workaholic, she was also frustrated by his closed-off behavior. She was surprised too, because she knew how much Chan valued his work, so it made no sense for him to be acting this way. 

“Okay, man.” Y/n finally snapped, when they'd been replaying the same three second audio clip from the last fifteen minutes. “What's your problem?” 

“What's my problem?” Chan had the audacity to act surprised. Y/n hated how she still found his accent attractive in this situation. “I don't know, maybe you'd like to answer that when you've been the one silently just sitting here s—”

“What else do you expect me to do when you don't even want to acknowledge my presence in the room?” 

“What do—” 

“Okay you know what,” Y/n had to address the elephant in the room, or else they'd be going back and forth the whole day. “I know I fucked up, okay? And I guess you must hate working with me now, but can we just forget about it and act like nothing happened? I swear I won't do anything weird.” 

“Wait a minute, back up;” Chan’s face flushed. “Can you tell me exactly what you're talking about? Did… did something happen last night?” 

“What the hell, man” Y/n wished the ground would swallow her at this point. “You want me to say it aloud? Is this your way of making me more embarrassed than I already am?” 

“No, I—” 

“I confessed, okay? I said it.” She blurted. “And now you're uncomfortable, I understand, but please try to—” 

“You confessed… to me?” 

“Are you dumb? Of course, Christopher, who else?” 

“Wait but,” He didn't know what to feel, happy or distressed. “What about Hyunjin?” 

“Hyunjin? What about him? I—” Y/n was confused, but then her eyes opened wide in realization as she covered her mouth in shock.

“Oh my God, are you with Hyunjin?! Shut up, I'm so sorry! He did tell me he was with someone but I never thought… Oh my God, Chris, I never meant to—” 

“What the actual fuck? No?!” Christopher stopped her, unable to hear her talk about this for another moment. “I'm not with Hyunjin, okay? We're literally like brothers. And why aren't you mad… aren't you dating Hyunjin?” 

“Me… and Hyunjin? Ew, no!” Y/n looked like she was about to throw up. “He literally is my brother. Well, my cousin, but still. What the hell, what made you think we were together?” 

“Hold up, you guys are cousins?” 

“Well, yeah. I mean we didn't want to be public about it because people may think I got the job only because of him. Honestly I thought he told you guys, but it may have slipped his mind.

"And I didn't think it was my place to tell you guys, so I guess its kind of like a secret?” She scratched her head. “But what made you think we were together?” 

“Well,” It was Bang Chan’s turn to be embarrassed now. “Last night I saw him give you a present and you both went together to—” 

“Don't even finish that sentence.” She made a mental note to have a talk with Hyunjin and the members and finally tell them about their relationship, otherwise she was going to loose her mind. “It's Ye-ji’s birthday today, remember? Since the three of us are close, Hyunjin and I had planned a little something for her to wish her at midnight. So the present you saw was for Ye-ji, not me.” 

“Oh.” The silence that followed was the most awkward moment of Chris’ life. 

After what felt like eternity, it felt like the ice had finally been broken has they broke out into unfiltered laughter once they met each other's eyes. 

“Wait,” Y/n smirked. “Does that mean you were jealous, Chris?” 

“Whatever,” Chris gave her an endearing smile, the same one from last night. “I was okay? I was jealous, and I'd never felt anything like that before. I just didn't want to put either of you in a difficult position, which now I realize was a pretty stupid move from my side because I guess I could've simply just asked either one of you.” Both of them chuckled. 

Chris gently took y/n’s hands in his as he continued. 

“So, I tried to distance myself from you. But I realized, I just couldn't. We're a great team, and I think it's because we truly understand and know each other, which is a surprise, because I've never felt like this about anything or anyone in a long time. 

“And not only that, you're one of the most talented and amazing people I've had the honour of knowing. Unfortunately, I do not remember what you said last night, so, I'm going to shoot my shot and hope i don't make a fool of myself.

"I think I'm in love with you, Y/n. It may be a risk, but you're a risk I'm willing to take. So I want to ask you, y/n, would you please—” 

Before he could finish, Y/n, misty-eyed and overjoyed, reached forward to kiss him, and she felt relieved when she felt him smile against her. 

“I guess that's a yes?” Breathlessly, Chris smiled. 

“Yes, yes, yes… A thousand times yes, Christopher Bang!” Y/n laughed. “I think I'm in love with you, too. You—”  

The two of them jumped in their seats as they heard something fall. As they turned their heads, they saw Changbin and Jisung standing near the door, looking at everything but them. 

“Oh, hey, guys, didn't notice you there!” Jisung said in an extremely high-pitched voice. “How are you?” 

Changbin, the voice of reason for once, smiled knowing. “We were going to say that we're sorry we're late, but I guess you did not really feel our absence.”

Chris knew that smirk— it was that of him winning a bet. “We can complete this song another day if you want.” Changbin said, smacking Jisung on the head for acting so dumb. 

“It's okay guys,” Y/n wanted to die. She knew she was never going to live this down. “We were just waiting for you—” 

“No, you know what, thanks, Binnie.” Chris held y/n’s hand with a smirk as they stood up and walked towards the door. Chris knew they were not going to live this down anyway, so he might as well take this opportunity. “We'll let you know when we'll be free. Don't call us!” 

As Chris and y/n walked out of the room in a fit of laughter, they heard Changbin laugh just as loud. 

“Sweet!” Changbin cackled. “I’m gonna be 50 dollars richer!” 

a/n: honestly i never really thought how hard it would be writing an xreader fic, because at one point i literally started using you as a name instead of a pronoun lol. literally was so much harder and i had actually written a snippet weeks ago before i abandoned it due to writer's block but then ate dropped (go stream y'all !!) and the new era has been living rent free in my head, so that gave me the motivation to finally get back to that and make it what it is today lol.

my first xreader and honestly channie was the best person as my muse ♡ i can only say i may write more hehe

i hope you enjoyed and please lmk what you thought and leave comments in my ask box, on ao3 or the tags !! requests are also welcome ♡

untill next time 💌

bang chan masterlist

[mythicalmaven]

Beyond Boundaries - Oscar Piastri (PART SEVEN)

Masterlist

Time for chapter 7! The chapter I am sure that a lot of you have waited for! Hehe! I also added a few social media elements into the chapter, which I think turned out nice! But, don't worry, it's still mostly just words <3 and I'm honestly OBSESSED with this chapter! Can’t wait for chapter 8!

↳pairing: oscar piastri x female!norris!reader ↳word count: 5K ↳chapters in this series: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, ↳chapter warnings: friends to lovers, brothers teammate trope, bestfriend!reader, fluff, smut, NSFW, 18+ content (mdni!), fingering, handjob, praising, explicit sexual content!, sex, p in v, first time together

↳series summary: Since Oscar joined McLaren as your brother’s teammate, you two have quickly become best friends. Recently promoted to be Oscar’s physiotherapist, you both relish the opportunity to spend more time together. However, as the new role brings you closer, you both realize you might be feeling more a little more for each other than just friendship

The sun peeked through the curtains of Oscar's bedroom when you felt yourself slowly waking up, slowly opening your eyes, you realized you were still laying in Oscar's bed, without Oscar tho. He must have gotten out of bed earlier.

You reached for your phone on the nightstand next to the bed. Immediately noticing two text notifications, one from Lando and one from Oscar.

You clicked on Oscar's text and smiled as you read it. He texted you good morning, as well as saying he was downstairs to grab the both of you some coffee. It was cute, the effort he was putting into everything.

After you replied to Oscar that you just woke up, thanked him for the coffee and told him that you'd see him in a bit, you opened your text notification from your brother, immediately knowing something was up, so you start typing back to him

After your last text, you immediately opened Instagram, typing the designated username in your search bar. Once you've reached their profile, you click on the post to check the pictures from up close.

You honestly had no idea what to do now. The PR team was gonna be very very busy to fix this whole ordeal, because you either had to come up with some very devious lie to convince people that you were not the girl in question or you had to convince people that the boy in question wasn't Oscar. And to be fair, neither of them seemed like a an achievable solution.

You kept staring at the comments, reading them all. Some even more shocking than the other. Let's just say that this was not the way you expected to wake up after a night of sleeping in Oscar's childhood home.

Talking about Oscar, he just walked back into his room, confronted with your blown pupils and beet red face.

"Are you okay?" Oscar asked placing the two cups of coffee on his nightstand, before carefully sitting down on the edge of the bed, looking towards you "You're bright red, are you feeling sick?" he asked, worry lacing his tone.

You shook your head and handed Oscar your phone, showing his the post you've been staring at for the past 5 minutes.

f1gossip

liked by username1, username2 and others

f1gossip Oscar Piastri spotted making out with a mystery girl right outside a nightclub in Melbourne last Sunday👀 The girl has not been identified yet, but according to a few sources, the mystery girl might be none other than Y/n Norris (featured in the last picture), considering she was seen leaving the same nightclub as Oscar and her outfit potentially matches the one from the mystery girl👀

tagged: oscarpiastri and yourusername

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username1 EXCUSE ME

f1.content.2024 Holy fuck man, we knew that Oscar was a hot lad, but him making out looks even hotter🫠

user8290 no one can convince me that this isn't y/n😱 ↳ oscarpiastrifan81 I KNOW RIGHT ↳ username2 i don't know about you, but i kinda ship it

f1addict231 i can guarantee you, that is not Y/n Norris😂 ↳ user437 hahaha are you blind? ↳ norrisgirlie290 girl, even a blind person could recognize y/n in this

username3 Oscar dating Lando's little sister, y'all are delusional🤨

user41 no clue who she is, but i'm her now😍 ↳ username9183 for real tho, when I saw this i was like: GIRL, HOW DOES IT FEEL TO LIVE MY DREAM

piastrisgirl21 I highly doubt that's her 👀🤔

"Oh fuck" he muttered, feeling a little embarrassed by the fact that the press had caught them. They would have been fine if it they limited their kissing to just inside the hotel room, since there was pretty much no media there, but both of them apparently were too drunk to realize that kissing outside of the club was everything but smart.

Oscar must admit tho, that aside from the shame he was feeling of getting caught, seeing the pictures of them also making butterflies rise in his stomach. An immediate blush creeping onto his face.

"What should we do?" you asked, sounding a little nervous.

Oscar didn't really know either, not sure at least "Well, I think we should at least call my PR manager, because I honestly have no idea what else is smart"

"What do we say to her tho?" you wondered, not really knowing how to come up with a solution that would work.

"Well, we've gotta decide if we wanna lie to her and just say that it was me with another girl" he suggested, pursing his lip a little nervous "Or we tell her the truth, and just tell her that it indeed was us. But that we were wasted and did something stupid"

Before you had the time to process your emotions and react to it, Oscar felt his phone ring. He reached inside his pocket and took out his phone "Speaking of the devil.." he began, nervously looking at his phone "What do I tell her?" he stammered, wanting to be sure that you agree with what he was going to say.

"It's okay, Osc. I'm fine with both" you replied, before quickly getting up from the bed "While you answer that phone call, I'll go to the bathroom real quick" you said, before walking towards his bathroom.

Once you were out of sight, Oscar pressed the button to accept the call, lifting the phone to his ear "Hello" he softly spoke.

"OSCAR PIASTRI, for fucks sake. Care to explain?" he heard her ask on the phone. She was agitated, that was clear and totally understandable "And don't pretend like you don't know what I'm talking about, because it's all over social media. And with Y/n?"

Oscar sighed, knowing that they have been stupid. Still contemplating on what he should tell her. If he should be honest or if he should come up with a lie. He continued to listen to his pr manager rambling about the fact that she expected these things from Lando, but not from him. And that they were already busy enough with Lando's way of presenting himself in public sometimes, that she didn't feel like having the same issue with Oscar too.

Oscar took a deep breath, before looking down at his lap "It's all just a big misunderstanding. The girl in the pictures with me is not Y/n. They were just coincidentally wearing similar clothing" he lied, his face feeling warm, because he absolutely hated lying "I was drunk and made a mistake, I admit that in all honesty. But the girl in the picture is not Y/n.."

"You honestly expect me to believe that? Everyone that knows Y/n, can recognize her. The tattoo on the back of her arm is showing in one of the pictures, Oscar..." she said, immediately seeing right through his lie "Any random girl would be totally fine, that would have gave me a lot less work, but Y/n of all people. This could cause a big dent in both of your public images, because this is highly unprofessional. Kissing your co-worker while you're wasted. And let's not even get started on the fact that it is your teammates younger sister"

"I'm sorry" he muttered, feeling incredibly embarrassed by the whole ordeal "We were both wasted and I don't know what came over us, okay? It was stupid, we made a mistake, but it's a little too late for that now"

"You don't have to say sorry to me, you're doing this to yourself. Please just make sure this doesn't happen again, okay? " she explained, slowly starting to calm down and starting to be a little bit more compassionate "I know that you can't choose who you're attracted to and that being drunk can make you do senseless things, but please remember that you guys both have a public image that you need to keep up. You both can't afford to damage that, just because you two can't keep your tongues out of each others throats in public"

"No worries, it won't happen again. We were wasted, it was just a one time thing" he replied, defeat lacing his tone "What should we do about these articles?" he asked her, wondering if she had an idea.

"Well, regarding the press, for now nothing. The less attention we give it, the less suspicious it seems. The media will find a way to throw you under the bus anyway" she said, pausing for a deep breath "But regarding McLaren, you both better come up with a very good explanation. Because Zak is gonna kill you both, when he finds out"

"I don't even want to think about that" he whined.

"Well me neither" she said, a small laugh leaving her lips "Now, thanks for the clear up. Take some time to let this all sink in and I'll talk to you soon, okay?"

Oscar sighed and agreed with her, apologizing again for the stupid mistake, before ending the phone call.

He threw himself down on his bed, opening his messages to text Logan, but quickly saw that he already had a text from him. Since you were gone to the toilet anyway, he felt like he had a little time to text with him.

Oscar put his phone down next to him when he saw you walking in, shooting him a small reassuring smile.

"How did it go?" you asked as you walked back into his bedroom, jumping onto his bed again, seating yourself down next to him, your back resting against the headboard.

He shifted his gaze towards you "Well, that could have gone worse" he said, quickly explaining to you what they discussed.

"Yeah, still mad at myself for letting this happen" you said, disappointment lacing your tone, trying to avoid eye contact "It shouldn't have happened"

Oscar felt a pang in his heart "Do you mean that you regret that we've kissed, or?" he asked uncertainly, afraid of your answer.

You shook your head "No, you idiot" you shot at him, immediate relief entering Oscars body "You know, that call you just had proved yet again that it's just smarter that we stay friends and don't date, it just makes things too complicated. It shouldn't have happened, but it did, nothing we can change about that" you explained to him, honesty in your voice "But the fact that it shouldn't have happened, doesn't mean that I don't feel what I feel"

"So, no I'm not regretting it at all, none of the things we did that night" you said softly, glancing back up at Oscar. "And to be truthful, I don't think I've ever had an orgasm that intense before," you admitted quietly.

Oscar felt a rush of heat, arousal stirring instantly, feeling himself getting hard already. It was almost embarrassing how easily you could affect him. Just a few words from you, and he was a mess, like a teenager all over again. He couldn't help it.

A small smirk crept onto his face, proud of himself for making you feel that way. "I'm glad you enjoyed it. I love making you feel good," he admitted, unintentionally using the present tense. He hoped you wouldn't notice. It was true; if he had the chance to make you feel good again, he would in a heartbeat.

He looked down at his lap, nerves returning. "I feel the same way, by the way. Your mouth felt incredible. It's by far the best I've ever had," he confessed, feeling a bit vulnerable about being so candid. "I came so quickly, it was embarrassing. I felt like a teenager again, struggling not to blow my load within a minute."

You chuckled lightly, honestly feeling a little honored about it, turning your head to look at him. "I think it's cute, I see it as a compliment" your voice a soft whisper, trying to avoid looking at his lips. You really wanted to kiss him, but you knew you shouldn't. Those last few words being ignore a hand full of times already.

"I was actually a bit insecure beforehand. I really wanted to make you feel good but was so afraid I wouldn't be any good at it, you know?"

"You? Not good at it? It was amazing," he reassured you.

The whole conversation stirred feelings in Oscar that he had tried so hard to suppress, but it was no use. Seated with his back against the wall, he glanced down at his lap. He was fully hard now, the outline of his erection clearly visible in his shorts. Oscar quickly moved his hands over his lap, trying to cover his arousal, hoping to make it seem like he was just more comfortable that way. The pressure of his hands only enough made his dick twitch involuntarily.

You noticed the flush on his face getting more evident. You glanced down at his hands, obviously trying to hide his predicament.

"You're hard, aren't you?" you asked, gently biting your lip. Your sense of reasoning began to fade again, and you were on the verge of ignoring the words: 'we shouldn't.'

"Yeah, I'm so sorry" Oscar apologized, letting out a sigh. "It's just that talking about it, made the memories resurface again"

You scooted a bit closer to him, slowly moving your hand towards his, which were still trying to cover up his arousal. Your fingers carefully slipped under his hand, giving his hard-on a firm but gentle squeeze. "Don't hide it," you whispered.

Oscar let out a soft moan, the mere feeling of your hand on him enough to drive him wild. He moved one hand to grab onto the mattress. He hesitated, everything in him wanting this. But a voice in the back of his mind reminded him of your words, the hand that was still covering yours gently squeezed your hand, before moving it upwards, his fingers carefully wrapping around your wrist, trying to pull your hand away from his member.

"Y/n, we shouldn't," he said, much against his own desires, wanting to respect the boundary you had set. One that he knew you were probably only ignoring in the heat of the moment.

"Shouldn't we, or don't you want to?" you asked, using your other hand to remove his fingers from your wrist one by one, before placing it onto his abdomen, your hand slowly making its way back down where he needed it most, palming him through his shorts. He moaned at the feeling, squeezing the bedsheets tighter with his free hand. "I know you want to, Osc."

"I don't want you to regret this, baby," he whispered, putting his own needs aside, focusing on your feelings instead.

You turned onto your side a little, moving your lips close to his neck, before pressing a soft kiss against his skin. A small smirk formed on your face when you saw the little goosebumps appear on his neck, a soft whimper escaping his lips when you palmed him with a bit more pressure.

"I would never regret pleasing you, Osc," you said, your lips now next to his ear. "How could I regret being intimate with you? Look at you, you're so hot. And the sounds you make when I please you... God, you make the hottest sounds. It makes me so wet, Osc."

"F-fuck..." Oscar let out a loud moan, clasping his hand over his mouth to prevent the others in the house from hearing him. He felt his dick twitch inside his shorts, involuntarily bucking his hips against your hand. Your words alone almost made him cum right then and there.

"Just have a little fun with me, Osc. No strings attached, okay?" you suggested, your lips traveling back down to his neck, peppering it with seductive kisses.

You had found his weak spot, the thing that made Oscar lose his mind. The thing that made his self-control crumble to pieces. He caved, giving in to his strongest desires.

Without a word, he shifted his position, now sitting on his knees in front of you. His hands slid to the back of your thighs, gripping them firmly as he pulled you further down the bed, until your were laying down completely. You lay back, your heart racing, anticipation building as he climbed on top of you. Oscar pinned you down, his big hand wrapping around both of your wrists, securing them above your head, while he used his other hand to cup your cheek.

"Please don't stop. It's so hot when you talk to me like that," he murmured, his voice thick with desire.

His words sent a shiver down your spine, leaving you flustered and desperate for more. Your arousal was evident, and Oscar noticed, feeling a surge of confidence and satisfaction. The sight of you beneath him, eager and responsive, made him feel all kinds of things—powerful, needed, and deeply connected to you in this intense moment

You looked up at him, locking eyes with his. His pupils were dilated, his desire unmistakable. The intensity of the moment made you let out a soft moan as you maintained eye contact. Oscar’s lips descended to your neck, pressing against it and sending shivers down your spine.

Deciding to heed his earlier words, you began to recount the details of the night you spent together last Sunday, confident it would only fuel his desire further. As Oscar's lips found that sweet spot on your neck, you moaned, "F-Fuck, Oscar, just like that," your voice low and sensual as your hands struggled against his grip on your wrists. "It feels so good, just like Sunday night."

"You feel incredible against me, Osc," you murmured, referring to the way his arousal pressed against you as he hovered above. Both of you still fully clothed.

Oscar groaned, his hips moving slowly against yours in a rhythmic grind, seeking more from you. He slid his hand beneath your shirt, cupping your bra-covered breast. You responded with a moan, "Yes, Osc, just like that."

Oscar's moans mingled with kisses on your neck, his breath faltering at your words. He paused, then said "Fuck, baby, you're so hot"

You let out a shaky breath, fueled with arousal "You made me feel so amazing, Osc. Your lips on my neck, your fingers filling me up—you're so hot. It felt incredible."

He moaned louder, his hand moving away from your breast to the back of your neck and into your hair, tugging slightly. "You know what I loved even more, Osc?" you asked seductively.

"Tell me, baby," he almost growled, his breath ragged, his arousal throbbing with need. His teeth grazed your neck, eliciting another moan from you.

"I loved sucking you off, Osc. You're so big, you made me feel so full" you chanted as the arousal started to pool between your legs more and more, the way he was responding to your words fueling you with desire "I loved to way you pulled on my hair when I sucked you off, baby. It made me so wet" you spoke, the nickname escaping your lips, fully intentional. Knowing that it would make him go insane.

Oscar let the moans escape his lips without holding back, feeling himself getting even more turned on than he already was. The way you talked to him made him lose control and you knew it. It was exactly what you wanted "The sounds you made when I had my lips wrapped around you, god. It was so hot. The way you moaned out my name when you came, god, it made me come untouched" you said, knowing that he was about the snap any moment.

Oscar couldn't hold back any longer and crashed his lips against yours, capturing you in a passionate and lustful kiss. His lips moved in perfect harmony with yours, his tongue licking your bottom lip, asking for entrance, which you gladly granted. The kiss deepened, growing hotter and more intense. Your tongues intertwined, exploring each other with fervent desire.

Oscar released your wrists, and your hands immediately traveled to his neck, one of them diving into his hair and pulling gently. He moaned into your mouth, the sound vibrating through you and making your desire spike. His hands roamed your body, fingers trailing over your curves, squeezing your waist, and sliding up your sides. His touch was everywhere, igniting your skin with every caress.

You broke the kiss for a moment to catch your breath, both of you panting heavily. "Can I take this off?" Oscar asked, his voice husky as he tugged at the hem of your shirt. You nodded, and he quickly pulled it over your head, tossing it aside. Not wasting any time, you tugged his shirt off as well, your hands exploring the newly exposed skin of his chest and shoulders.

Oscar's hands moved to the waistband of your shorts, and with a questioning glance, he asked for permission. You nodded again, breathless with anticipation. He slid your shorts down, and then removed his own, leaving both of you in your underwear.

Hovering over you once more, Oscar ground his hips against yours, the friction sending waves of pleasure through both of you. He lifted his hips a little, to allow him to slip his hand between your legs, fingers teasing you through the fabric of your panties. You moaned, your back arching in response to his touch.

"Oscar, please," you whispered, your voice filled with need.

"Anything for you," he murmured back, his lips finding yours again in another searing kiss. His fingers slid beneath your panties, and you gasped at the intimate contact, the heat between you both growing unbearable "Fuck, you're so wet for me already"

"Yes, Osc, all for you," you panted, the tension between your legs quickly building as Oscar worked your clit in perfect circles. "Your fingers feel like magic, Osc."

"Yeah?" he asked breathlessly, his voice thick with desire. "You like that, baby? You like my hands on you?"

"God, yes," you moaned, your hips bucking against his hand. "Don't stop, please don't stop."

Oscar's lips brushed against your ear, his breath hot and heavy. "I won't, baby. I love making you feel good."

As his fingers continued their expert movements, your hand slid down to palm him through his boxers. Oscar groaned, his hips pushing into your hand. "Fuck, that feels amazing," he whispered, his voice strained with pleasure.

"Just like that, Osc," you encouraged, your voice a mixture of moans and gasps. "Keep touching me, don't stop."

His fingers sped up, the pressure and rhythm driving you closer to the edge. "You're so wet for me," he murmured, his lips trailing down your neck. "So perfect. I want to feel you come on my fingers."

"Fuck, Osc," you cried out, your body trembling as the tension inside you coiled tighter. "I'm so close, please."

"I've got you, baby," he assured, his voice soothing yet filled with lust. "Come for me. Let go, just for me."

With a few more skillful strokes, your climax hit hard, waves of pleasure crashing through you. "God.. Oscar!" you moaned out, your body arching as you rode out the intense orgasm. Your hand tightened on him, and he moaned in response, his own arousal evident.

"That's it, baby," he praised, his fingers slowing but still working you through your release. "You're so beautiful when you come."

As the last tremors of pleasure faded, you collapsed back onto the bed, breathing heavily. Oscar pulled his hand away, bringing his fingers to his lips and licking them clean, his eyes locked onto yours. "You taste amazing," he said, his voice rough with desire.

You reached up, pulling him into a deep, hungry kiss, tasting yourself on his lips. "Your turn," you whispered.

Your hand slipped beneath his boxers, wrapping around his hardness, and you began to stroke him with slow, deliberate movements. Oscar groaned, his hips thrusting into your hand as he buried his face in your neck. "Fuck, that feels so good," he murmured, his breath hot against your skin.

You increased the pace, your hand moving with more urgency as you felt him getting closer. "Oscar," you whispered, your voice dripping with seduction, "I love making you feel this good."

He moaned loudly, his hips bucking involuntarily. "God, the way you touch me," he groaned, his voice filled with awe. "You're so good at this. It feels incredible."

You smiled against his neck, enjoying the power you had over him. Your hand moved faster, your grip tightening slightly. "Tell me, Osc," you coaxed, "Tell me how much you love it."

His breaths came in ragged gasps, his hips moving in sync with your strokes. "I love it so much," he panted, his voice trembling. "Your hand on me... it's better than any fantasy. Better than anything I could ever imagine."

You felt his cock twitch in your hand, a clear sign he was edging closer to his release. "Oscar," you whispered again, this time with a hint of praise, "You're doing so well. I love how hard you are for me."

His entire body tensed, his muscles straining as he fought to hold back. "Fuck, you're amazing," he managed to say, his voice thick with desire. "I can feel it... I'm so close."

Sensing his imminent release, you adjusted your technique, moving your hand faster inside his boxers and applying firmer pressure. Each stroke elicited a deep moan from Oscar, his control slipping with every passing second. "God, yes," he groaned, his voice desperate. "Just like that... don't stop."

You could feel his cock pulsing, his release building rapidly. "I'm so close," he panted, his voice tight with need. "I'm gonna come."

You paused your movements, your hand stilling as you looked into his eyes. "Not yet," you said softly. "I want to feel you come inside of me."

The words caught him off guard, and he moaned, his arousal spiking. "God, you have no idea how much I want that," he said, his voice filled with longing. "But I don't have any condoms here”

"I'm on birth control," you replied, your voice steady. "And I'm clean. If you're okay with it, I am too."

Oscar's eyes widened with a mix of surprise and desire. "You’re sure?" he asked, his voice husky.

"Yes, Oscar," you assured him, pulling him into another deep kiss.

After you pulled away from the kiss, Oscar looked at you again, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "Are you really sure you want to do this?" he asked softly. "As much as I want to, I don't want you to feel pressured into anything. Our first time means a lot to me, and I don't want you to regret it afterward. I want it to be perfect for you."

You smiled warmly, your heart swelling with affection. "I want this. I want you," you said, your voice filled with certainty. "You mean a lot to me, Oscar. You have nothing to worry about. It's you, and that's what makes it perfect."

Oscar’s eyes softened with a mix of love and relief. He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a gentle kiss "I want this so bad," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "And I need you so much."

With those words, he leaned in, capturing your lips in another passionate kiss, his hands exploring your body with renewed intensity. You felt a shiver of anticipation as he moved, both of you ready to take the next step together. The statement of how you shouldn't be doing this, long forgotten.

As you kissed, your hands moved to his boxers, helping him slide them off. He did the same for your panties, both of you eagerly discarding the last barriers between you. He pulled back for a moment, his eyes raking over your body. "You’re so beautiful," he said, his voice filled with awe. "Every part of you."

"And you’re so hot," you responded, your eyes trailing over his toned body. "I love your chest, your arms, your abs... everything about you." your fingers trailing over every part as you names them.

Oscar began to position himself at your entrance, his gaze locked with yours as his tip teases your entrance. You moaned softly, your body aching for him. Slowly, he pushed inside, filling you completely. The sensation of him stretching you, the heat of his skin against yours—it was more than you had ever imagined.

"God, you feel amazing," Oscar whispered, his voice a mix of awe and desire. "So perfect."

You clung to him, your nails digging into his back as he began to move, each thrust driving you both closer to the edge. The sensation of him inside you, the sound of his breath mingling with yours, created a symphony of passion that enveloped you both. His hands roamed over your body, exploring every curve, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

“You’re so amazing,” he murmured, his voice filled with admiration. “I’ve dreamed of this moment more than I'd like to admit, but now that it’s real, it’s even better.”

You blushed, your heart racing with excitement, your hands exploring his back. “You feel so good, Osc. Everything about you is just perfect.”

He paused, a flicker of hesitation in his eyes, as he halted his movements, biting his bottom lip. Closing his eyes to avoid eye contact, because he was sure that he would have blowed his load the second he looked into your eyes.

You looked at him with a playful smile. “What’s going on?” you asked softly.

“I need to slow down a little,” he confessed, his cheeks flushing slightly, a hint of embarrassment in his voice as he said “Otherwise, I’m afraid I’ll finish too quickly. And I really don’t want this moment to end yet.”

You reached up, cupping his face in your hands. “To be fair, I find that kind of hot,” you said with a teasing grin. “It just shows how much you want this.”

Oscar’s face lit up with a mix of relief and pleasure. “God, you really know how to make me feel good,” he said, his voice dripping with desire.

With a renewed sense of urgency, Oscar pulled out of you completely, just for him to thrust himself back inside you right after. The sensation overwhelming you, causing you to moan out loudly.

As the intensity built, Oscar’s movements quickened, his thrusts becoming more urgent. You could feel the pressure building within you, your body responding eagerly to each powerful thrust.

“I don’t think I can hold back much longer, baby,” Oscar panted, his voice strained with need.

“Then don’t,” you replied, your voice filled with determination. “Let go with me.”

He moaned, his hips bucking harder against you. The pace of his thrusts increased, each movement sending waves of pleasure crashing through both of you. You matched his rhythm, your body moving in sync with his as you both approached the brink of climax.

“Fuck, I’m so close,” you moaned, your voice barely more than a whisper.

“Me too,” Oscar grunted, his voice filled with urgency.

The pleasure surged through both of you, building to an intense peak. With a final, desperate thrust, you both moaned loudly as you reached the pinnacle of your shared ecstasy.

"God, I love you" he whispered, his orgasm causing the words to accidentally spill out in the heat of the moment. He instantly felt fear creeping upon him, afraid that he just ruined it all, unaware of what you were about to say.

“I love you too, Osc,” you replied, your voice thick with emotion as Oscar continued to thrust gently into you, making sure not to stop until you both had completely ridden out your release.

Earlier, you had spoken of ‘no strings attached,’ but your heartfelt response seemed to suggest something more profound.

As the waves of pleasure subsided, Oscar collapsed against you, his breath coming in heavy, satisfied gasps. He looked into your eyes with a mixture of awe and adoration. “That was incredible,” he said, his voice filled with emotion.

You smiled, running your fingers through his hair. “It was perfect,” you whispered, your heart full of love and satisfaction. “Thank you for making it so special.”

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Taglist @aceyalonso @saachiep81 @landosgirlxoxo @andruuu28 @il0vereadingstuff

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Always & Forever Two - Marshall Mathers x Reader Series

Words: 4.4k

Pairings: Marshall Mathers x Fem!Reader Series

Synopsis;: They loved each other with every fibre and being. They knew that they were meant to be together, but it seemed like every obstacle came in the way. She was twenty-one, he was forty and they knew that it would be hard. Therefore, they promised forever and always as they were meant to be together despite every turmoil that came their way.

Warnings: Swearing, Alcohol & smoking. More warnings will come throughout the series.

|| Masterlist for Series ||

Hope you enjoy :)

May 2012

Y/N leaned against the wall in the kitchen as she ran a hand over her forehead. It’s noon and she had only been here for four hours…another eight to go.

She worked three times a week at the diner. Which each were twelve-hour shifts, therefore the rest of the week she was filled with summer classes.

However, the Sunday rush was not what they anticipated. It was crazy busy. At least she got to control the music for the day which was old rock and roll.

“Tired?” she heard Gavin say from behind the steel table in the kitchen.

“You could say that,” she whispered with a chuckle as she grabbed the plates and read the tag of where they were going. “I stayed up writing a paper till three a.m. as I forgot it was due.”

“Girl, you need a break.”

“I need a holiday, but you do not get one at this ripe age of twenty-one and in this economy,” she joked as she made her way to the tables.

Placing down the plates, she said the orders before looking up. A woman in her late teens sat with brunette hair and flawless beauty and across from her was…

“Y/N,” he said her name so perfectly as if he had practised it for hours.

“Marshall,” she said as she glanced at him. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

Y/N sent a quick nod and looked over at the woman across from him before looking at him. “Enjoy. Let me know if you need anything else,” was all she said before turning away.

Marshall watched as she walked back to the kitchen. He glanced to Hailie before furrowing his brow.

“You know her?” Hailie said.

“Um, not really. We met at na event but it does not matter,” he stated before glancing down at his food.

“Ok…”

Y/N walked back to the kitchen before glancing at how empty the kitchen was all of a sudden. All the cooks lined up looking out the window to main area where they placed the plates. Why were they all there?

“What are you looking at?” she asked as she stood behind them.

“Eminem is here,” Gavin said, “you just served Eminem.”

“I just served…” Y/N whispered before glancing out the window too. “I just served Eminem,” she said more to herself. Eminem got her fired. Holy shit. “Like the rapper?”

Gavin turned around and had a stunned expression. “Yeah, like the rapper.”

The more she looked at him, the more she pieced together the information. How did she not know? She grew up with Eminem. Not in terms of being a hardcore fan but his music was played in her house and her mom did go to a concert when she was younger, but she sat and talked to The Eminem the other week.

It’s been a week since she saw him. He had to been at the sports event for publicity as he was Eminem. The event of course had Eminem there as this was Detroit.

Y/N went around back to his table. Marshall glanced up from his food to see her.

“Emily went on break, so I am just filling in for her right now until she is back. How are the first few bites?” she asked.

“Good,” they both said, and Y/N was content with that and went to turn away.

However, Marshall glanced up at her and sasked, “How are you?”

Y/N heard his voice and turned back around. Then his question hit her…he asked how she was. He cared about how she was… Therefore she smiled and said, “Good. Busy but good. You?”

“Good.”

Y/N thought the conversation was done and after a moment, she nodded and turned back to the kitchen. Gavin quickly pulled her by her arm into the back.

“Gavin!” she exclaimed as he pulled her into the closet.

“How was talking to Eminem? Could you maybe hype me up and get me a auto-“

“No,” she said blankly as if it was obvious.

“What?”

“He is obviously enjoying his meal with his friend-“

“Daughter.”

“Daughter. He is enjoying a meal with his daughter, and we cannot disturb that,” Y/N said. “Now if you excuse me, I have customers to serve.”

Emily came back from her break and continued to serve Marshall and his daughter. Y/N was told to go on her break and instead, went outside to have a drink of water and to have a smoke. It was the alley by the diner, and she was just about to light one before a voice interrupted her. She was not a chain smoker or an addict…simply, she liked the tobacco filling her lungs when she was stressed. She knew the habit was bad and she needed to kick it. However, she continued smoking.

“You know those will kill you,” Marshall said as he stepped into the alley.

“A little birdy told me so,” she hummed, “but that’s-“

“The purpose. To kill yourself a little?” he commented as he leaned against the wall. “I did not know you worked at Ted’s.”

She shrugged. “Just another job.” He nodded. “It helps with the stress,” she commented, “the smoking.”

He nodded again. “It does kill you.”

“Thanks for the reminder. I hope you enjoyed your meal-“

“Wasn’t too bad. You know,” he began as he kicked the ground lightly, “we keep running into each other.”

“Detroit is small.”

“Not really,” he argued.

“What do you want me to say, Marshall?” she hummed. “This is fate?”

“If we meet for a third time I will say its fate,” he argued back.

“Ok and if we do what does that mean?”

Marshall smiled and crossed his arms. “We will find out.”

“Ok,” Y/N whispered and nodded.

“Ok. Now stop smoking for me, will you? A pretty girl with attitude is needed in this world.”

Y/N chuckled and rolled her eyes. “Ok, duly noted. Bye, Marshall.”

“Bye, Y/n.”

Marshall walked away and Y/N watched as he descended. He was interested in her. He was intrigued by her and yet, she could not help but wonder why the Marshall Mathers talked to her. What did Eminem want with her? Who knew?

-

June 2012

Sam was something Y/N did not know how to describe. They met at a bar a few months ago and despite knowing each other’s bodies, that was all they were doing.

He was pretty with blonde hair and blue eyes. He was taller and stronger. She did not know much about him besides his desire to become something more, but Y/N did not have time for that. She needed a release. It was simply just sex.

She did not know much about him. She knew he worked in the music industry. However, they did not have those serious conversations besides what pleased each other. Once a week they would see each other, and it would be a world of ecstasy before they parted ways.

Y/N took the bus to the recording studio. Sam was running late at the studio and suggested they meet at the studio before driving back to his place. Y/N got out of the bus and pulled her bag over her shoulder. She was in leggings and a hoodie.

Sam was fidgeting with the sound panel as Y/N entered the room. Instantly, he turned around and spotted the woman in the doorframe.

“Come in, Em and I are just mixing some tapes,” Sam said as he got up to greet her, but Y/N dodged the hug to look at the figure that sat next to him.

nstantly, Marshall smiled sending her a curt nod her way. Y/N shook her head in disbelief.

He was right. If they had a third time is the charm for meeting. This was fate. She was meant to meet Eminem for some reason. It’s been a month and a half since the curb side cigarette meeting and now she sat in his studio.

Sam introduced the team in the booth but when he got to Marshall he sent a grin.

“Y/N.”

“Marshall,” she quipped.

He chuckled and turned back to mix he was working on.

Fate. What a silly little thing…

“You know each other?” Sam asked as he glanced between the two.

“Something like that,” she hummed but then looked back at Sam. “Ready to go?”

Sam glanced around at the group before landing on Marshall. “Um, can I go, mate?” Sam asked.

Marshall did not even turn his chair before muttering, “No. We need to work on this.”

Sam nodded then looked at Y/N. “Uh, going to be a while.”

Y/N rose a brow then nodded. “Ok, I will go home.”

“You can stay,” Marshall said turning around, “would like to hear your opinion.” He patted the spot next to him that usually Sam sits but obviously he was being kicked out. Y/N settled, and Marshall handed her a pair of headphones.

“I get to listen to unreleased Eminem music?” she whispered to him.

Marshall smiled. “How did you know I was Eminem?”

“Gavin the line cook at the diner. He has a man crush on you.”

He chuckled. “Good to know. Did you know when we met?”

She shook her head before he pressed play. Y/N listened to the whole song and began to nod her head along. Marshall watched her the entire time seeing the change in expression as she enjoyed the mix. Once finished, she took the headphones off.

“I like it. Its good. What is it called?”

“Don’t know yet, but it is still a work in progress.”

Sam watched the entire scene in front of him. How she was close to him and smiled when he talked. Her eyes shined just a little brighter when he cracked a joke. He was so close to touching her and when he talked, he would lean in. Y/N was his. The last two months he had been pining after her.

Now, he got his big break at helping on an Eminem CD and here he was Eminem was stealing his girl.

Who did he think he was?

“Which tape was it?” Sam asked from the corner.

“Track eight.”

“Good one.”

Y/N turned around to see Sam and the solemn look on his face. Arms crossed as he watched the scene. However, Sam’s phone rang making him leave the room. Y/N turned to Marshall who was looking at her.

“I told you that if we meet again, it’s fate,” he quipped.

She chuckled. “Want my number or something?” He nodded, fishing out his blackberry in his pocket. “A blackberry what are you, fifty?” she hummed.

“Thirty-nine, thank you and I am very content with it.”

Another chuckle came from her lips which lit up Marshall’s cold heart for a moment. He handed her the device where she put her phone number in.

“I will warn you; I am not looking for anything serious. Just friends.”

His heart broke slightly from hearing that, but he ignored it. “That is all I am looking for. We keep running into each other-“

“Pun intended?”

“Pun intended. You are meant to be in my life somehow, Y/N.”

“What are you doing tonight?” she asked. “I am supposed to hang out with Sam, but I want to hang out with my new friend.”

Marshall smiled at that and nodded. “Want to come to my place then? We can’t really go out due to the whole Eminem…”

“Sure. Or we can go for a drive or something.”

He grinned at that. “Sure, let me get rid of Sam.”

Marshall left the room leaving Y/N in the recording room by herself. She did not know what any of this equipment was, but she was intrigued by it. Lots of buttons, levers and more. She was tempted to touch but if she fucked with an Eminem song…Eminem would fuck her up.

Eventually, Sam came back. “Are we going?”

She shook her head. “Not in the mood anymore. Raincheck?”

The look on his face made her break slightly but he nodded. “Want me to drive you home?”

She rose a brow knowing exactly what he was implying. “We are not seeing each other tonight, Sam.”

He nodded and eventually gathered his things and left. Marshall came back and saw her sitting there with her bag ready to go. He grinned.

“You know, I am not one to just jump into a stranger’s car,” she stated.

“Well, I would say we can go somewhere public but-“

“I know.”

“I trust you though,” she said, “for only meeting you three times and sharing probably less than a hundred words, I do trust you.”

His heart shined lightly from that comment and nodded. He gathered his things before letting her walk out of the recording studio. He kept his hands to himself, hands in pocket as Y/N walked by his side.

“How did you get here?”

“Bus.”

He nodded as he stopped in front of an Aston Martin V8 Vantage. They got in and Y/N placed her bag between her legs as he settled in the driver’s spot.

“How do you know Sam?”

She pursed her lips and then sent him a grimace. “We met at a bar and have been sleeping together for the last few months,” Y/N stated but said in a tone that she was not impressed with herself.

Marshall nodded. “He is just helping with one song but honestly, I am not a big fan of his work,” he admitted.

“Really? Well, if you’re not really a fan of his work, I am not really a fan of him in bed.”

He chuckled. “Bad?”

She shrugged. “Just fills the needs.”

“How is work going?” he asked as they drove.

“Fine. Working loads. I need to save for my master’s because I do not know if I am going to get a scholarship.”

Marshall nodded. “Art history, right?”

She nodded. “The most useless degree but I was eighteen and did not know what else to study. I am the first in my family to have gotten a degree so…”

“Parents did not go to school?”

“My mom never went to post-secondary. I am from Canada, and she owns a surf shop in a small town. Its super cute. My dad on the other hand…I never knew,” she said. There was more to her dad, but it was simple to just keep it like that.

“I never knew my dad too,” he said, “so I get it.”

“Yeah. I am from the same town as Pamela Anderson is from. Ladysmith, British Columbia.”

He nodded knowing exactly that name and what he has said about her. “Surf town?”

“Not really. But my mom’s best friend lives in Tofino so we used to go there like a few times a month.”

“You surf?”

“Sure do. Miss it terribly as I am stuck in the Midwest.”

“How did you get to Detroit then?”

Y/N explained the story. The scholarships, the opportunities and the need to just start new.

“My mom and I had a falling out with me moving here. She was not ready to let me go. She needed me more than I needed her.”

“Meaning?”

“I love my mom, but she loves me more than anything.”

“Well, I am a parent and I can relate-“

“But she was obsessive with me. She wanted me to be the best in everything and to make her world better. She grew up with nothing and she made a name for herself with the shop. However, she had the shop and me. That was her life.”

He nodded. “I think she was lonely.”

Y/N agreed. “She just wants the best for me but she wanted me to stay in that town, but I needed to get out of that town. Off that island.”

He nodded again.

Marshall parked the car at some park and turned to look at her.

“Why is this Canadian girl in my life?” he asked.

Y/N looked at him. “Why am I in Eminem’s car?”

He chuckled.

“I don’t care that you’re Eminem by the way. I mean I did grow up with your music and I would say my mom is a fan…” she began to ramble, “like she did get to your concert in ’02 or ’03 or something. However, I am not-“

“Stop,” he whispered, “I believe you. You’re a grounded person.”

Y/N nodded.

“And I am sorry for getting you fired,” he said, “and being a jackass about it.”

Y/N chuckled. “It was a terrible job.”

“How is the diner?”

Y/N began to explain the logistics of the diner. The secrets, the people, the life of it and Marshall listened. He truly listened to every word she said.

There was something about this Canadian girl. She was beautiful, he would admit. The way the sun shined on her face; it brightened her freckles. Her lips were plump and kissable. Her eyes were bright with life. She has seen better days, but she was a survivor and a trooper. She was something and something magnificent.

However, as she talked, he listened to everything she said but he was so focused on how she used her hands to explain the story how her eyes fluttered and her expressions changed when the tone altered.

It had been a while since he felt this way. He was always so cold towards love. Since Kim, he kept to himself, focused on his career and his girls. However, she was a light in the very dark hallway, and he could not help but be the moth drawn to it.

“Why do you sleep with Sam?”

“You asked me this question before…”

“You’re disrespecting yourself by just-“

She chuckled. “Enough about me Marshall, tell me about yourself.”

He paused for the moment to think. What did she want to know? Everything about him was accessible via the internet but the pretty girl in front of him was wanting to get to know him…

“I am Marshall Mathers,” he said, “I have three daughters and I can rap-“

“No,” she said, “I know that. Tell me something deeper.”

He shrugged and took a moment to find his words. “I like the colour blue.”

“Ok.”

“I like hip-hop.”

“Ok.”

“And I think you’re pretty,” he said with a smirk.

Y/N smiled lightly but not a wide bodacious rather a simple and delicate smile. Like it was the first time she had ever heard those words come from the boy.

“I think you’re unique, independent and admirable,” he whispered. They faced one another with the middle console keeping them apart. However, with every word that came from his thin lips, he inched closer. Marshall reached out and grasped the piece of hair that was by her ear and slowly, he tucked it.

“You’re smart, snarky with humour. You’re not scared to ask what you want. However,” he pulled away, “you have a lot of darkness that takes the lightness from your eyes, and I want to know.

Y/N paused. Her smile faded slowly, and she looked at him with a serious demeanour.

“You don’t know me,” she whispered.

“Nor do you with me but I would like to.”

“I want to know your demons, Marshall.”

He shook his head and snickered lightly. He did not know how to answer that comment. A woman who was half his age sat here, young and ambitious saying she wanted to get to know him. Marshall knew better. She was momentarily. She was a blip in his world. However, he was attracted to this blip and wanted her to last just enough to potentially make him happy then she would walk as she was a twenty-one-year-old with her whole life ahead of her.

Therefore, he nodded.

“I would like to know yours too,” he said as he tucked the other side of her hair away. “Three times we ran into each other, quite potentially the universe has something to say.”

Whoever made this world had something to meddle with this relationship.

“Why art history?” he asked eventually as they stared at one another.

“Because there is beauty in art and the artists are so thoughtful. There is so much in a painting, a story to be told. Symbolism and analogies. You can read a whole story in just one painting. Why music? It is similar. You share an experience, a thought, an emotion, an opinion and a message all in rhythm, lyrics and beat. It is an art.”

Marshall admired her. The way she said it was with such utter love and devotion. However, as he was about to open his mouth her phone rang.

“Sorry,” she whispered, “it’s Sam.” As she said that he could not help but let his heart fall slightly. Y/N brought the phone to her ear and answered, “Hello.”

“Hey. I swung by your house to see if you were home and you were not. So was just checking-“

“I am fine. I am with Marshall,” she said so innocently.

“Oh, Marshall like Eminem Marshall?”

“Yeah.”

“No offence, Y/N, but he is Eminem. He is just trying to fuck you. He is going to hurt you.”

Y/N sighed, and it was clear Marshall could overhear the conversation. His face fell and instead, his brows furrowed with being offended. She opened the door to step out of the car to have this personal conversation, but Marshall followed by opening the door to see her rolling her eyes and kicking the ground.

“Sam, why does that matter to you? We are literally just fooling around.”

“Well, I have been trying to get more out of you-“

“I made it so clear I was not looking for something serious.”

“Look, if you want to be a whore, be a fucking whore for Em but don’t fucking complain if he is a fucking ass to you,” he snapped. “Enjoy getting dicked down by Eminem.” Then he hung up.

Marshall crossed his arms over his chest and looked at Y/N’s unimpressed face as she pocketed her phone.

“According to Sam I am a whore for hanging out with you,” she stated with a chuckle. “Fucking men I tell you,” she whispered the last part. “Can’t deal with fucking competition.”

Marshall raised a brow and nodded. “He called you a whore?”

She chuckled and rolled her eyes. “Like that would hurt. I have been called worse.”

Marshall had a grimace before his jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed. He called her a whore. He called her a whore and a piece of him was angered, upset and more importantly infuriated.

This was Y/N. Sweet, sweet, genuine Y/N.

“Cut it off,” he stated with his arms crossed. “Cut the whole relationship off.”

Y/N gave him a look of disbelief and utter ignorance before sighing. “I can’t. I’ll be the ass.”

“Then be the ass,” he was serious. Completely and terrifying serious. ‘Be an ass.’ He would be. He would 100% be ass.

How dare he say such an ugly word to the most beautiful girl.

Y/N sighed and shook her head. There was some sympathy in her and to be a complete bitch was not in her cards of the night, but she had a boy in front of her. A handsome, mature and utterly devoted man who was telling her, whispering her the truth.

“He just wants my cunt, doesn’t he?” she asked.

What a dirty word for such a girl. He was taken aback by the comment, but he could not display that. She was beauty and she was grace.

They stood in the parking lot at the local park. She had tears welling up in her eyes and him looking as if the most beautiful girl just walked into the room.

It’s been years since he loved, but this devil walked in with cashmere and cream with devotion and adoration laced in her simple but beautiful eyes. A wonder with prospects of horror but he wanted her in ways he could not communicate.

“He is a boy,” he whispered as he took a step.

“And I am a girl,” she replied, “so…”

“A girl does not need a boy. She does not need a man,” he stated, “she needs wonder, acceptance,” he took another step, “and someone with an open mind.”

Y/N scoffed. “You’re saying I need someone.”

“You do.”

Y/N kicked the ground before glancing up at him. “You’re the man who has not dated since his ex-wife. You’re the epitome of being alone and yet, you’re standing in front of me with-“

“You’re young.”

Another loud scoff came from her. “Not like I have heard that before.”

Marshall sighed. “This is coming across as wrong.”

“I do not need someone to achieve the goals I want. I don’t need Sam.”

This was coming out wrong and the girl in front of him did not understand.

“Y/N,” he said then took a break, “don’t…” he took a breath, “don’t think you need someone when you’re capable of achieving something on your own.” He waited. “You’re responsible for your own success.”

Her frown turned slightly from solemn to emotionless to smile. “You’re a lonely man, Mr. Mathers.”

He shrugged. “I don’t sleep around-“

“You used to.”

“I did.”

“But that is the past.”

“Indeed. I am grown now.”

“And I am not?”

“Never said that. Sleep with who you like but don’t be used.”

“Sam is nice.”

“Sam is obsessed with you.” A pause. “You don’t need that.”

“I like the attention.”

“Then that’s your own issues shining through,” he commented then took a step. “I want to be your friend, Y/N, if you have me.”

“Usually, people do not propose friendship to me. We usually just become friends.”

“Call me old fashioned then,” he said with a shrug.

“You want to be friends with me?” she said with disbelief and slowly. “Me?”

“Yes.”           

“The overworked came from a single mom, a student who is half your age?”

“Yes.”

“Ok.”

“Ok.”

Then she smiled and not just a small, happy smile but rather and impressed smile.

“I would like that, Marshall Mathers.”

“What’s your full name?”

“Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N.”

“Then Miss. Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N will you do the honours of being my friend.”

“I consent.”

-

There you go chapter two!

Much love,

Ava

[ghost-in-the-hall]

Fall For Me (Poly! Sleep Token x Fem! Reader) - Part I

Well, it happened... After trying to evade the hype for so long they finally got me 😂😂 This story has had me in a chokehold (haha, get it?) since I started toying around with the idea of it. Hopefully you guys enjoy it, let me know if you'd like to be added to the tag list for future chapters and/or Sleep Token one shots!

WARNINGS: None

Part II

My Masterlist! ~ AO3 Link!

Credit to @spookyghostjelly for beta reading, ily bb 💗💗💗

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You sat with your feet propped up on the counter, one of the magazines you had yet to sell spread open on your lap. "Be fashion forward this fall." You read out loud to the empty store in a mocking tone as your eyes grazed over the pictures of chunky sweaters, jeans, and boring, brown leather boots. The bell over the door jingled as a customer entered the store, your eyes darted up, expecting one of your regulars. You were met with the sight of someone in a black sweatshirt with the hood pulled up over their head. 'Great,' you thought to yourself, 'just when I thought I was going to have an easy evening.' You watched the man carefully, waiting to see what exactly he was going to stick in his pockets. Now, you normally turn a blind eye to shoplifters up to a certain extent, everyone deserves to have something to eat. But, being an independently owned store you could only take so much of a loss on your inventory. To your surprise, the man didn't pick up a single item. He took his time looking over the contents of each shelf, his hands never leaving his sweatshirt pocket. "Can I help you find anything, sir?" His head turned slightly in your direction, but not enough for you to see his face.

"What time do you close?" You were caught off guard by his British accent, it was an uncommon occurrence to get outsiders in your small backwoods town.

"Eight o'clock." He nods his thanks and hurriedly exits your store, almost bumping into one of your regulars on the way out.

"Everything alright?" He asks as the strange visitor leaves your store.

"Do you know him?" You ask quietly, as if he would somehow be able to overhear you despite having rounded the corner of the building already.

"Yeah, he's one of those… those cultists that set up shop in the woods." He explains. You were a bit shocked at the realization. You had been seeing headlines in the local newspaper for months as curiosity rose around the small group of men that had built a few Cabins on the very edge of town. Reporters didn't dare venture into their camp for an interview, but that didn't stop them from snapping a few pictures from the safety of the treeline. Four cabins sat at each corner of a small clearing, a large fire pit dominated the center. From what you could make out they seemed to have some sort of root cellar and a lackluster garden, which would explain why you hadn't seen any of them in person until this afternoon. "You be careful, (Y/N). Freaks like that might just try to sacrifice you to some goat demon they worship." He warns. You can't help but roll your eyes at the outlandish statement.

"Mark, those boys haven't done a single thing to bother anyone since they got here. They've been out there for months, if they were going to take someone they would've done it by now." You argue.

He chuckles, "Trust me darlin', I hope you're right. But until then me and a lot of other folks around here plan on keeping a close eye on them. You'd do best to stay away from them."

"You think I can't take care of myself?" You challenge, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Now, Miss (Y/N), you and I both know you'd beat my ass to next Sunday if that's what I was implying." The two of you shared a laugh. "I just don't want something bad to happen, that's all. These strange men show up out of nowhere one day and no one knows where they came from, hell none of us have ever seen their faces. They all wear these black masks, least that's what the reports are saying. You can never be too cautious."

"I'll take my chances." You smile politely in an attempt to get him off his soap box. "Now, I take it you're here for your pack of Marlboros."

"Yes ma'am, and an extra one for Donnie if you don't mind." He responds with a nod as he fumbles for his wallet in his back pocket.

"You got it boss." The rest of your evening was spent rather uneventfully, save for the fact that you would practically jump out of your chair every time the door opened. You glanced up at the clock, there was about twenty minutes left until you closed. "Maybe he decided to not come back." You shrug. Moments later an old, beat up pick up truck rumbled into the parking lot. You watched as the driver got out, his head dipped low to hide his face in the hood of his black sweatshirt. He pushes through the door, the jingle of the bell the only sound to cut through the tense silence. "Welcome back." You tried to sound friendly despite your unease. He nods at you in response, not saying a single word as he makes his way quickly and directly to everything he needs. He approaches the counter, unloading his arm load of supplies before taking a step back. "You got a name to go with those big, broad shoulders of yours?" You ask in a bit of a teasing tone, trying to do what you could to lighten the mood. He remained silent, despite the fact you couldn't see his face you couldn't escape the feeling of his piercing gaze. You opened a bag, carefully organizing his contents inside. "$18.75, sir." He slaps a twenty dollar bill on the counter, not even waiting for his change as he grabs his bag and flits out the door. You watched as he drove off, not sure exactly what you were supposed to make of that interaction. You had a similar occurrence every day for almost a week. He would come in, grab an armful of groceries, put down his money, and he left. You would try and greet him whenever he would come in your store, it was always met with a curt nod.

"Vessel." You froze as he finally spoke up. You looked up, your eyes met with 6 slits on an odd looking mask. "You can call me Vessel." You couldn't think of how to respond at first. He had barely acknowledged your existence before tonight, what had changed?

"Vessel… (Y/N)." You stick out your hand to shake his. "It's nice to finally meet you." You smile as his hands clap into yours.

"You're different from the other people we've run into from town." He remarks.

"The reporters?"

"Some of them, a few others we just happened to cross paths with." You could feel him studying you. "You don't seem scared."

"Vessel, you've been coming in here for over a week now. If you were going to try and hurt me you would've done it by now." You notice the corner of his mouth quirk up in a smile.

"I guess you have a point." He chuckles. You finish scanning his items and give him his total. He places the money down on the counter and picks up his bag.

"How come you never take your change?" You ask as he's almost out the door.

"I know you run this place by yourself, think of it as me tipping a small business." He flashes a brief, brilliant smile at you. You try to hide your shy smile by fixing up your register. "Oh, and (Y/N)?" You glance back up at him. "It's nice to finally meet you too."

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Tag List: @herripinkle @mustluvecho @jumpcauseimfroggy (If you would like to be tagged for Sleep Token stuff let me know!)

[midnightsnyx]

girl at home | mat barzal | part 2

pairing: mat barzal x fem!reader summary: you’re eighteen when you find yourself pregnant after Mat leaves for hockey. nearly eight years later, Mat finds out about your daughter and you have to deal with the consequences of not telling him about her.

warnings: mentions of pregnancy, lil bit of angst with a sprinkle of fluff and not edited im sorry lol word count: 2.1k authors note: *screams internally* thank you guys so much for the love on this story so far. I was super hesitant to post it at first but I am glad you guys like it! I'm posting this a little early but updates will be every sunday from now on. This chapter is kinda sad but happy times are on the way <3 thanks for the feedback, and if you like part 2, let me know!

main masterlist masterpost tag list ask box

Sitting across from Mat for the first time in almost eight years, doesn’t go exactly as planned. He’s waiting for you even though you arrive fifteen minutes before the agreed time, hoping to rid yourself of the anxiety you are feeling which means he’s been here even longer. So you wipe your sweaty palms on your jeans and stride over to where he’s waiting and sit on the chair across from him. He’s staring at his phone so his head jerks up when he hears you.

The first words that come out of his mouth are: “are you sure she’s mine?”

Which, okay, that’s a fair question because you did tell everybody and their grandmother who asked that Mat was not the one who knocked you up. Of course, nobody actually believed you but there were a few people from your high school that believed it. Most girls who had always had a crush on Mat, would say that you cheated on him and obviously Nora couldn’t be his child because for some reason, they never actually accepted that you and Mat were a couple. 

So yeah, his question is fair and you did know he would ask. 

“Yeah, we can do a paternity test if you don’t believe me,” you say quietly. It’s not something you necessarily want to do, because then you’d have to come up with some reason to tell Nora why she needs to go get her cheek swabbed or blood tested. She’s as stubborn as Mat, and you would probably have to hold her down to get whatever the doctors needed unless she agreed. 

“No, I believe you.” 

His words take a huge weight off your shoulders but also replace it with a new one. You know Mat, he’s the kindest soul and has the biggest heart and he’s going to want to at least properly meet Nora and might ask to be in her life. In the first few years of her life, there wouldn’t have been anything you wanted more in the world. However, you’ve grown now and so has she. Your number one priority has to be what is best for Nora, and turning her life upside by introducing her to Mat is scary. For both you and her. 

And Mat? Despite what he might think, he’s nowhere near prepared to jump into being her dad.

“Can I ask you something?” he says, pulling you from your spiraling thoughts. 

“Sure,” you say even though you know what he’s going to ask. It’s a question you’re nowhere near ready to answer but you have no choice now.

“Why? Why didn’t you tell me about her?”

He doesn’t sound as angry as you were expecting, maybe thanks to his dad talking to him but there’s underlying hurt. You try to put yourself in his shoes, trying to think if there was anything in the world that would have stopped you from wanting Nora. You know for a fact that if Mat knew, he would have been in her life somehow but you’re not sure if he would have given up the NHL to do it, and that’s exactly why you didn’t tell him.

“I didn’t want to hold you back,” you say softly, watching his facial expression change. He just looked confused before but now he looks sad almost. His eyes close for a moment and when he opens them, you feel like you’ve been punched in the stomach. 

“I thought you knew me better than that.”

“I did! I do,” you argue. “If you knew about her, it would have kept you away from everything you worked hard for. Your dream was the NHL, Mat. If I told you about her, it would’ve crushed that dream. We didn’t want to hold you back.”

“Yeah,” he scoffs. “Who’s we? You and my parents? You shouldn’t have made that choice for me, it wasn’t right.”

“This is a child we’re talking about Mat. Were you really ready at eighteen to drop everything and raise one?” 

“Were you?”

“No,” you say truthfully. “But I didn’t have a jersey with my name on the back waiting for me.”

He doesn’t say anything and for a moment, it’s silent between the two of you with background chatter from the cafe. You’re sure that he’s just going to get up and storm out but he takes a deep breath and slowly exhales, knotting his fingers together.

“I wish you’d told me,” he mumbles before looking up at you. “I would’ve stayed.”

“I know,” you whisper but you can’t meet his gaze.

. . .

You’re picking Nora up from her day camp a couple of days later when you get a message from Mat asking if he can meet up with you. There’s been no contact since the two of you last met, having left with a short goodbye to pick up Nora. He hadn’t asked to see her and you hadn’t offered so you thought maybe he would leave it but you should’ve known better.

You fire off a sure, see you in twenty, and debate on whether to bring Nora with you or drop her off with your mom. Mat might not even want to see her, but if he’s reaching out to you again it’s probably about her. 

“Wanna go meet my friend?” you ask, looking back at her to gauge her reaction. She might just want to go home after all day at camp, but she perks up immediately when you ask.

“The one from the grocery store?” she squeals but narrows her eyes and gives you a suspicious look. “Hey, I thought you said he was a stranger.”

Shoot.

“Well, he was to you,” you try to explain. “I knew him when I was younger.”

“As young as me?”

“As young as you,” you tell her and she grins, nodding her head and shouting an excited yes, so you pull out of the parking-lot and start towards Mat’s parents house. You’re a little nervous to be around his family after dancing around them for so long after Nora was born. Meeting up with Liana wasn’t as hard as you were expecting, but you’re not so sure about his parents. Aside from the occasional awkward greeting, you haven’t properly spoken to them since before Nora and you’re starting to think maybe bringing her will just make things worse but before you can change your mind, you’re parking your car in the driveway. 

He’s sitting outside on the porch swing when you step out, and his eyes widen in surprise when Nora climbs out of the car. He definitely wasn’t expecting you to bring her but this could be a good test. If he decides he wants to be part of her life, having all their interactions scheduled wouldn’t be a good start so you decide to just jump in the deep end.

“Hey,” you call out before grabbing Nora’s hand and making your way towards him. He’s already making his way down the pathway and meets you about half way, pulling you into a surprising hug before crouching down to Nora’s level.

“Hey Nora,” he says, smiling gently and offering her his hand to shake just like last time. “Do you remember me?”

She bobs her head once, accepting his hand but tries to hide her face in your leg. Of course now, she’s practicing Stranger Danger, instead of blurting out her full name. 

“Mom made dinner, if you guys are hungry?” 

Family dinner is just about the last thing you want to do but Nora perks up at the idea of food so you agree, following Mat into the all too familiar home you spent so much time in as a kid. Not much has changed, you realize as you look around the foyer. It feels a bit like coming home but you’re not sure if you were missed. 

“Smells good,” you say, trying to make conversation and Mat smiles awkwardly. 

“Yeah, mom is making your favorite.” 

How she can remember your favorite meal is beyond you, but you’re not about to miss a peace offering and this is certainly one.

“My favorite food is spaghetti,” Nora informs him and you watch Mat nod seriously, taking in anything she says. You try not to look too deep into it because even though he knows she’s biologically his, Nora is still just a cute kid talking a mile a minute about anything and Mat has probably been trained on how to handle excited children. 

When the three of you make your way to the living room, with Nora still chatting excitedly, you stop short when you see a picture frame on the wall. 

It’s you. Well, it’s you and Mat at graduation. Arms wrapped around each other and Mat kissing your forehead. If you look close enough, you can see past your smile and see the sadness in your eyes. This was before you were pregnant but you were already grieving the loss of Mat. He left for hockey shortly after and your only reminder was the brown haired little girl still talking to Mat. 

“Is that you, mama?” Nora asks suddenly, standing on the tips of her toes so she can get a better view. Her nose scrunches up and she looks at the photo, then Mat, and then the photo again.

“Oh,” she says and you sigh. 

“Let’s go see Mat’s parents.”

Nadia and Mike are waiting in the kitchen, trying to make it seem like they weren’t listening in on the conversation. Liana is sitting at the table, reading a book casually but you know she was probably listening too.

“This is Mike, Nadia, and Liana,” you tell Nora who lights up at Nadia’s name.

“My middle name is Nadia!” She squeals and you stare at the floor, not wanting to meet any of their eyes. Someone - probably Nadia - inhales sharply and then lets out what sounds like a sob. 

“That’s a beautiful name,” Liana says and you look up to see her looking at Nora with a soft smile on her face. Mike has an arm wrapped around Nadia who’s trying, and failing, to hide tears. You’re glad Liana is trying to distract Nora because you’re about two seconds away from crying and Mat must be able to tell because you feel his hand lightly touch your back. His hand lingers for a moment until you take a deep breath and blow it out steadily. 

Then his hand is gone and you feel the loss right away.

“Hey, we have a swing outside in the backyard,” Mat tells Nora. “Wanna go check it out while dinner finishes cooking?” 

He looks at you for permission so you nod, smiling at Nora when he takes her hand and leads her outside. Liana follows shortly after and then it’s just you, Nadia and Mike. Both their eyes are red rimmed and Nadia only hesitates for a moment before striding over and pulling you into a tight hug. 

“Thank you, my girl,” she whispers and all you can manage is a nod because you’ll probably cry now if you try to talk. The two of you just stand there for a couple minutes until Mike chuckles. You pull away, wiping your eyes to see him standing in front of the patio door so you make your way over to see what he’s looking at and almost start crying again. 

Mat and Nora are playing what looks like a game of tag, Liana laughing at them while trying to film. It’s exactly the kind of thing you had sometimes allowed yourself to imagine.

“Would you look at that,” Mike says softly. 

“He’s a natural,” Nadia agrees. “Always was.”

Then she turns to you with a small smile on her face. “I know the struggles of being a mom. You have to do what’s best for your kids…” she hesitates, gazing outside before looking back at you. “He wants to try, if you’ll give him the chance. We’d all love to get to know Nora.”

You would love nothing more than to have Mat’s family in Nora’s life. For her to get to know her other grandparents but you can’t help but be scared of what could happen if you let Mat into her life. She could get attached only to have him ripped away when he has to go back to New York but you can’t have Nora in Nadia, Mike, and Liana’s life and not Mat’s. 

But maybe you owe it to Mat, to give him a chance at having a place in her life after not telling him about her all this time. You were doing what you thought was right - what was right - but if Mat really wants to be part of her life, maybe it’s time. 

You look outside and see Nora on Mat’s shoulders with Liana chasing them, before looking back at the woman in front of you and smiling softly.

“I think Nora would love that.”

tag list: @dasiysthings

[theotherbuckley]

Several Sentence Sunday ⚡️

Tagged by: @hippolotamus @wikiangela @diazsdimples @inell @spotsandsocks @honestlydarkprincess @tizniz

I’m back with Eddie meets Buck 1.0!!! Except now it’s just a bit angsty oops. This fic has changed from porn without plot to porn with plot hahah oops. I neglected this fic for a long time but I got a spark of motivation for it so I hope you enjoy this snippet. FYI Season 6 Buck is in a coma from the lightning.

He punches the glass hard, his hand recoiling in pain but it quickly fades. The glass remains unbothered, it feels like it’s mocking him.

Eddie doesn’t give a shit what it thinks, he’s fought tougher things than a pane of glass. He hits the window harder, harder, harder. Nothing can get in the way of him and the man he loves—

“It’s not gonna work,” a voice sounds behind him.

He turns to the voice— a man he doesn’t recognise. The man’s wearing scrubs and a white coat like a doctor, but the badge on the side doesn’t match the hospital Eddie knows they’re in.

“Who are you?” Eddie asks. The more he looks at the man the more he thinks maybe he looks vaguely familiar but he can’t place him anywhere.

“I tried to show him what he’d lose,” the man says, ignoring his question.

“I don’t— what do you mean?”

The man sighs, eyes drifting over to Buck’s sleeping form. He’s sleeping, Eddie repeats to himself over and over. Not dying. Doesn’t let himself think that for a second.

“He’s seen what it would be like, a world where Evan Buckley didn’t exist. You weren’t there, I thought that would push him over the edge, but he’s stubborn I think, maybe he gets that from Mom.”

Eddie frowns, he struggles to process anything that’s been said. “He’s nothing like his mother,” Eddie practically snarls.

The man turns back towards Eddie, tilting his head in contemplation before he smiles sadly. “Perhaps not, they process grief in very different ways. But they’ve both had far too much of it for any one person.”

That makes Eddie angry. How can this man say that? How can he compare Buck’s life to Margaret? A woman so blinded by her grief that she’d treat her son like he didn’t matter? How could anyone think Buck didn’t matter?

Buck is sunshine in a human form. He’s warm and bright and his smile brings joy to everyone around him. He’s a fucking puppy with how much he aims to please, how much energy and excitability he has contained inside. He’s beautiful and loving. He deserves far better than the parents he was saddled with.

“Who the fuck are you?” Eddie asks again, fists clenched by his side.

“You’ll take care of him, won’t you?” A small voice sounds.

Eddie blinks and there’s a child standing where the doctor once stood. His blond hair hangs slightly in front of his eyes. He looks up at Eddie with wide pleading eyes. He looks a lot like how Eddie imagines an eight-year-old Buck would look, except there’s no birthmark around his eye.

Eddie finds himself nodding at the boy, of course he’d take care of Buck. How could he not? Buck has saved his life so many times in so many ways. He’d do anything to save his too.

“Promise?” The boy asks, sticking out his pinky.

Eddie takes the boy's finger in his own, a part of him just knowing it’s the right thing to do. “Promise,” he whispers, tears falling from his eyes for reasons he can’t seem to explain.

Tags:

@bidisasterevankinard @diazheartsbuckley @jeeyuns @wildlife4life @eddiebabygirldiaz @jesuisici33 @your-catfish-friend @ladydorian05 @giddyupbuck @eowon n @watchyourbuck @steadfastsaturnsrings @housewifebuck @thewolvesof1998 @rainbow-nerdss @cal-daisies-and-briars @evanbegins @bucksbirthmark  @underwaterninja13 @daffi-990 @aspecbuddie @bucks-daddy-issues @monsterrae1 @smilingbuckley @loveyouanyway @actualalligator @pirrusstuff @actuallyitsellie @babybibuck @dangerpronebuddie @exhuastedpigeon @perfectlysunny02 @buddieswhvre @lonelychicago @rogerzsteven @bucksbignaturals s @smallandalmosthonest @evanbi-ckley @ronordmann @snarkythewoecrow @lavenderleahy @911varietyposts lmk if you want to be added or removed :)

[mikichko]

141 x latina reader recs? 👉🏼👈🏼

Hi cariñoooo!!!

First of all, very excited to see another (hopefully?) latine in the cod fandom! It makes me so happy to see y'all here :) It's like finding shiny pokemon

Second, I must apologize in advance because my god is the 141 x latina tag BARE !!! There's such a huge gap and hopefully, we'll see it close in the future.

Regardless! Here are some of the few recs I adore:

🍃 Everything that comes out Xavi's (@buttdumplin) magical fingers! He has such an amazing way of capturing the latine cultural experience in his works! It genuinely makes me feel like I'm there with the boys because of how he writes scenes and locations that are familiar to all of us. Some of my faves however are:

In Dub In Dub is Xavi's first piece and I all but squealed and giggled my way through this fic. Full of the boys talking Spanish, the amazing poly dynamic, and just generally good vibes. I reread this piece constantly.

Sharing Cultural Food - Kyle Focus This one is one of his most recent pieces and it just makes me feel soo many things!!! When I tell you that I've been in this exact same scenario and literally saw myself in this piece? Yeah, it was marvelous.

Meeting the Family - John Price This is not a poly piece BUT I do in fact adore it. Again, I have lived through similar scenarios of introducing friends or coworkers to family and I just, Xavi does a phenomenal job capturing it.

Now, cariño, I know you said you wanted poly recs but let me just throw you a few other pieces that I feel are tailored towards latine/hispanic readers.

🍃 Retirement Party by @sentientcave (Price x Reader)

OKAY! I know this is a controversial take, Charlie might even disagree, but to me Charlie's Dalisay reads very latina/hispanic! It might just be me projecting honestly but the touch of her Nona speaking spanish and highlighting how John spoke accented spanish too??? Yeah idk that scratched my brain just right Dark fic so mind the tags

🍃 All Works by @pricesugarwife (All in Spanish) (Multiple x Reader)

Griss's writing style is amazing! Even me, someone who probably has an eight grade reading level in Spanish, can read her work and appreciate how well written and paced it is. Naturally because it's all in Spanish and Griss is Latina herself, all of her work reads as latina reader to me! Definitely check out her work! Some of my faves are: Fearless - Johnny x Reader Derritiendo los glaciares de su corazón - Simon Riley x Reader

🍃 Gunslinger by @the-californicationist (Price x Reader)

Recommended by @/madstronaut this is a lengthy and completed piece!! I haven't completed this yet but I can tell you based on the first chapter that this is another amazing work provided to us by Cali's amazing mind. I will be putting aside all my Sunday plans to read through this whole thing.

Hope you enjoy these pieces mi amor! If I spot anything else I'll update this list!

[thosegayoldmen]

Seven Sentence Sunday

Thanks for the tags lovelies! @elodiah & @lokimobius

Here's me sharing my first snippet of my @lokiusbang piece for The Automat servers event!

It's err...a tad angsty, but I swear it's actually a spicy fic! This just turned out to be the best bit to share that wasn't too spoilery 😖

...Enjoy? 😅 (Also it's eight sentences but shhhh)

It isn’t exactly what Mobius would call an appealing view, his nerves making him hunch over slightly, emphasizing his awful posture and the extra weight he carries these days around his middle. He reflexively tries to sit up straighter, but when it makes little difference he finds himself hunching again in shame, his arms coming to wrap around his stomach and chest - a weak attempt at hiding. He’s entirely too self conscious like this, his entire body on show, every bump and scar and wrinkle right there for him to stare at, and he finds himself closing his eyes again so he doesn’t have to look at all.  It’s not that he doesn’t like his own body, he just doesn’t see what it is that Loki apparently does. He tells him about it often enough, but any time he’s tried to see it in the past, all that ends up looking back at him in the mirror is an old, washed up analyst.  He knows what he is, a mortal man, past his prime and well on his way to retirement. Or whatever kind of retirement you would even get at the TVA. And it boggles his mind every time he stops to think about the fact that Loki is an actual god.

No pressure tags for yall! @in-my-loki-feels @mythical-magik @loki-is-my-kink-awakening @devilbearingtrouble @impulsemuppet

@andthekitchensinkao3 @mirilyawrites @scifikimmi @silentxsymphony @kcscribbler

@doomed-spectacles @boredintjqueen @ilaytrapsfortroubadours

[xas24]

flowers for my lady ~ pedri

summary: as pedri is away for a while, y/n doesn’t expect to receive flowers ever so often.

it all started with their first date, where pedri had found out how much y/n loves flowers; any type of flower, whether it be big, small, pink, blue, anything she adores it. it was a part of nature and flowers had always brought her positivity and happiness - ever since she was young, her father used to buy her flowers everyday, when he’d come back from work.

when she told him that, pedri thought it was so sweet and adorable, and since then not a day went by where y/n wouldn’t receive a flower from him. they were always together most days so when she would greet him with a kiss to his lips, he would greet her with a flower held between his fingers.

and y/n was always such a blushing mess. she couldn’t hold back the shyness that seemed to overtake her emotions whenever her boyfriend would reveal another flower to her. pedri would sport that famous smile he always flashed around and y/n would melt right on the spot because how is he real, and so handsome, and so hers.

how is it that he cares so much about her that he carries on her fathers little tradition of bringing her flowers everyday? how does he remember to get one everyday? how does he just know what flowers she would be in the mood of receiving today?

these were all questions that ran around in her mind when this started to become a daily thing; about six months into their relationship.

“it’s because i love you.” he answered, with a sneaky smile on his lips, one evening while they were lounging around on the couch.

she huffed and dropped her head onto his shoulder, “pedriii, answer the question properly.” she whined.

“i am! what, i can’t bring my girlfriend flowers everyday just because i love her?”

“you can but- it’s just.. how do you remember to bring them every single day?”

his smile then turned into a grin and he leaned forward, planting a tender kiss to her forehead.

“it’s because i think about you every single day.”

and it just became their thing yet she wouldn’t have it any other way.

however, when pedri had to leave for a week with his football club, y/n was quite devastated that his little flower hobby would be put on hold. accepting her fate and after staring at the small bouquet of lilies he had given her just before he left a few hours ago, y/n went to bed with a loving smile on her face, thinking about him.

•••

it was a sunday. the one day where she could rest and sleep in and do whatever she wanted for the day with no excessive chores to rush to get done. the one thing she didn’t want was the doorbell ringing at eight in the morning, when she was just enjoying a quite nice dream about her boyfriend, who was currently miles away from her.

she didn’t get up on the first ring, still trying to grubbily rub the sleep out of her eyes. it rang a second and third time and she groaned out of annoyance before frustratingly padding her way to the front door.

she opened it and there was a woman with a bright smile on her face. god, it was too early for this she thought, whilst trying to tame her messy hair.

“hola!” the woman grinned.

“hola.” y/n gave her a tired, tight lipped smile before her eyes fell on the bouquet of roses she held in her hand. her brows furrowed and then she was being given the bouquet.

the woman didn’t say anything as y/n confusedly took it from her hands and then she was walking off. the girl stared at her figure retreating down the hallway, and when she turned the corner, y/n came back in and closed the door.

“weird.” she mumbled. her eyes fell onto the little card tag attached to the brown paper, a small white tag with a light pink heart on it. when she noticed the handwriting, she instantly knew. there was no denying it and her heart practically leaped out of its place.

flores para mi señora, it read in his familiar, scruffy handwriting. (flowers for my lady)

her lips pulled into a pout and her whole body buzzed with warmth. there was no way he actually did this, planned this just for her.

her fingers excitedly opened the card and her eyes took in every single curve and letter of his words.

did you think i would stop just because im miles away from you right now? i love you, mi amor. it’s been a day but i miss you so stop crying and text me right now.

she laughed to herself, of course he knew she would tear up at the sight of this. he could read her like the back of his hand, even when he wasn’t here.

she was blushing, crying, laughing whilst holding the little card close to her chest and staring down at the gorgeous red roses. he continues to amaze her every single day and her love for him just keeps on growing, she can’t handle it all anymore.

with a heavy heart, teary eyes and messy hair, y/n runs to her room to grab her phone and text her boyfriend. the bouquet of roses still in her hold, she already knew she’d be receiving a lot more over the next week and she couldn’t wait.

[livwritesstuff]

for @steddie-week day 7 (a day late bc sunday errands got a lil out of control)

this is a sneak peek of an upcoming fic (vibe is slow burn TV co-stars Steddie feat. denial of feelings, a betrayal, and chaotic misuse of social media) and I am Very Excited (that being said pls don't ask about a timeline bc I don't have a clue 😅)

tags: modern day, famous au, actor!steve, actor/singer!eddie, pre-relationship, fake dating (kind of)

The real point of no return in all this, Eddie knows, was the call with PR.

It – as in, having a little fun with the ridiculous dating rumors about him and Steve that had started floating around early on during the press tour for the TV show they'd filmed together last year – was all just a fun little joke until he woke up to a GCal invite in his inbox from the studio’s PR team and ended up on a thirty minute call where a bunch of random suits with fake-ass smiles laughed and said wouldn’t it be funny – wouldn’t it be a goddamn laugh-riot – if you guys played into the rumors? Just for the press tour?

(Just while we can profit off it?)

Yeah. Eddie knows the real motive here but his sense of self-preservation is, like, broken or something (defective at the very least) and he’s always down for a spectacle, so the second he sees Steve nodding his agreement, he agrees too.

It takes less than an hour for PR to send out an updated press schedule, one that now had Eddie paired with Steve at basically every opportunity, which…Eddie feels torn two ways about because, like, it’s an ensemble show. He’d actually really like to do some of this press stuff with Robin and Nancy too. On the other hand, all jokes aside, Eddie does have a pretty pathetic crush on Steve Harrington, so he sort of wants to clock all the hours with him as he can before the show comes out and all this comes to an end, when their paths will separate once again and remain that way probably forever (or until the show gets renewed for a second season, but that’ll be up in the air for a while).

And yes, Eddie sees the irony in the situation. Look – it’s not like he wanted to have a crush on this guy.

Their characters are practically brothers, and Eddie had been on enough sets to know that coming off a project even just being friends with castmates isn’t a walk in the park in and of itself.

Sure, Harrington’s cute – Eddie had noticed it the second they met, but he’d noticed it in kind of a clinical, detached way, like how he could hold an opinion on how good-looking one girl is from the next even if it didn’t do anything for him. He knew that Steve’s a good-looking dude, but more importantly, he’s an honest-to-god good person. Eddie wasn’t even thinking about being anything other than Steve’s friend because he could recognize the kind of privilege that alone is.

So, yeah. No crush on Steve Harrington in sight – not in the beginning, anyway, and not during the entire filming process. Then they started to film all the promo material, and the press tour had kicked off with an eight hour press junket, and after that very first interview (a fifteen minute sit-down with an entertainment talk show), Eddie had turned and asked Steve if he’d fucked up at all (because this is first time on a project big enough to have a real press tour and, seriously, he had no goddamn context for how any of this shit was supposed to go). Steve had just smiled and kicked his ankle and told him he did good and to stop worrying.

And something about that – the little kick to his ankle – had Eddie’s heart turning over like he was part of those trashy romance novels he outright refused to pick up (even though he’d put in a fair bit of time ogling the men on the covers as a horny, closeted teenager).

Oh, fuck, he’d remembered thinking.

Stop it, he’d tried to tell his heart or his brain or whoever else could be responsible for the feelings that were creeping in.

But it was already too late.

It only took a couple hours after the call with PR for Eddie to wonder if he might have made a mistake.

“You sure you’re okay with this?” Eddie asked after scrolling through a thread of comments on a clip of an interview that made its way over to TikTok (the thread started with i’ve never seen steve look at anyone like that before and he stopped scrolling after won’t waste my time watching now with an anxious feeling swirling in his gut).

“Huh?” Steve blinked at him.

“I mean,” he paused, “Not every straight guy would be cool with the whole world thinking there’s something going on between him and his gay coworker.”

And Steve had merely shrugged.

“I really don’t think the whole world is tuning into the press tour for some nerdy doomsday show,” he had replied, and then he’d added, “And whoever said I’m straight?”

As if that hadn’t blown Eddie’s whole goddamn mind.

So…fuck it. What’s the worst that could happen?

[miscfandomwrites]

A/N: This was supposed to say "Bad day" but whoops. I'm tired. anywho, this seriesis inspired by some other authors with their own 'Sunshine series' yet my main take was wanting a main character who is a housewife ish and is fed up with their shit. They're all scared of this rabbit shifter because she's put up with them for this long. There's a whole backstory and lore and such if you want me to get into it, but for now here's 'Bay day' lol

Pairing: (Shifterverse) 141 + Keegan + Konig x Rabbit Shifter! Reader

Warnings: Lots of language, mentions of bodily harm.

Words: 1.3k

Tagging: @tyler-t0t

~

Nothing seemed to be going right. 

First, it was a downpour all day, meaning I couldn’t even drive to the farmer’s market since they had announced that they were going to be closed for the weekend since the weather was so severe. 

It also meant that I had to rush outside to the garden in my new, clean, white sundress, getting mud all over it as I hustled the chickens and ducks back into the coop, and ran around gathering all the tomatoes I could find before they split from the excess rain, some of them already splitting as I gathered them into my dress, staining it red and coating it with tomato seeds.

They boys were all on base today, yet weren’t coming home anytime soon both due to the weather and due to the paperwork they were getting held up with from their last couple missions. 

And today was a Sunday, meant to be a relaxing, self-care, pampering day for me, yet here I am, running around like I lost my head. 

I had just started to dry my hair with a kitchen towel before I remembered that there were sheets hanging outside on the line to dry - one of the perks of living with a team I guess, is that even with an industrial washer and dryer, it still didn’t cut the amount of laundry this house went through during the week. 

“Oh for fuck’s sake!” I yelled as I ran back outside, skipping putting on the rainboots and just decided to go barefoot, easily hopping the small gate that kept the animals on the fenced side of the yard. My ears twitched as the rain hit them, and I flattened them against my head as I muttered curses to myself as I tore the sheets off the drying rack and ran back inside, about to toss them into the dryer before I realized my dress had covered them in mud. 

I opened the washer, expecting it to be empty, yet was greeted with the sight and smell of Soap’s mildew-y clothes that have definitely been sitting in the washer for the last two days, unswitched. 

“Motherfucker.”  I hissed as I dropped the sheets on the floor and grabbed a laundry pod and some scent beads, throwing them into the washer and starting his clothes on a hot, heavy washer since half of it was his workout gear. 

I shook my head as I felt some of the water starting to reach my inner ears, causing them to twitch and me to wince and I quickly grabbed a spare cloth and quickly cleaned them out, hating the feeling of water in them. 

I could faintly hear my phone buzzing from upstairs, and I jogged up there only to be greeting with Price’s contact, wanting a voice call.

I answered as I opened the dishwasher, realizing I forgot to start it before I went to bed last night, the pod door still closed tight. 

“Hey love, looks like we might be running even later tonight, there’s a new recruit….” He started as I held the phone between my shoulder and head and tried to start the dishwasher again. 

“What time should I have dinner on the table then?” I interrupted him as he was telling me about how they were going to be training not just one but several new recruits, causing them to be home around eight pm at the earliest. 

“Oh, uh, probably around nine or ten then?” He questioned. 

I just shut my eyes and sighed for a moment, before nodding. 

“I’ll get some stew in the crockpot then, today’s not going too great so I doubt I’ll be up that late.” 

“That’s alright dove, we can just pick up food on the way over.” I heard Ghost’s voice, causing me to pause for a moment. 

“Am I on speaker?” I asked softly. 

“Yeah, we jus’ got out of a meetin’ “ Soap replied. Sounds like everyone was there. 

“I’m implementing a new rule: Set a fucking timer on your phones for your laundry. Next batch that grows mildew in the washer will go into the burnpit.” 

A hushed silence answered me, before I heard a smack! and Soap yelling out. 

That was definitely Gaz. He’s the only one who actually takes care of his laundry on time. 

The washer beeping from downstairs gathered my attention, and I said my round of ‘be safe’ and ‘don’t kill the newbies’ before I hung up and tossed my phone on the couch, only for it to slide off and land on the wooden floor, landing screen-first. 

“Oh that definitely fucking broke.” I sighed, padding over to it and picking it up, wincing as I saw shards of glass left behind on the ground. 

A slew of expletives left me that would’ve left Soap blushing, and I set it face-up on the coffee table and headed downstairs, switching over laundry and starting half of the sheets in the washer before heading back upstairs, and cleaned up the mess my phone made. 

It was around three at this point, so I gathered some thawed meat out of the fridge and some vegetables and went to work putting together and stew for the boys that could be left cooking for the next several hours. Halfway through chopping up the carrots, the dryer buzzed, scaring me enough that I accidentally sliced into my finger instead, causing me to yelp and immediately hold it to myself, using my dress as a pressure dressing as I rushing into the bathroom and yanked out the medkit from under the sink. Only to find it fucking empty. 

I hissed at finding this, heading back into the hallway and pulling open the doors and finding the spare medkit things, disinfecting and wrapping up my fingers. (Turns out I nicked two, not just one.) 

I didn’t bother putting away the items since I knew I needed to refill the medkit anyways, leaving the bloody wrappers and roll of gauze on top of the box.

I headed downstairs, switching laundry again, and set up the drying lines we had in the laundry room for the sheets, carefully setting them up, not noticing spots of blood getting on the edges from my fingers. 

After switching laundry I headed back upstairs, my phone buzzing with an incoming call from Soap, which I didn’t even bother touching as I was not about to get shards of glass into my fingers. 

I finished making dinner, setting it up in the crockpot on medium heat, and didn’t bother cleaning up the kitchen as I collapsed on the couch, about ready to cry my eyes out. 

Instead, I fell asleep, my body exhausted, and about jumped out of my skin when I heard the door open and several voices. 

About thirty minutes had passed, leaving me groggy as shit, blinking sleep out of my eyes as they shuffled inside, dropping off bags of something on the counters as Price made his way to me. 

“I know we’re a little early but-holy fuck, what happened?” He started, causing everyone to immediately stop and head my way, causing me to be crowded by everyone. I could barely keep the tears out of my eyes, explaining that today was just horrible. 

“C’mon, let’s get you out of that dress and into something warm, bun.” Gaz spoke softly to me and Price starting giving instructions to the rest of the boys: Konig and his crew were to take care of the animals and check the perimeter, Ghost was to help with laundry, Soap was on dish duty, Price was going to finish up with putting away the groceries which I later learned were from them going to the farmer’s market ass-early in the morning before the sky opened up to make sure I got what I needed for the week. Keegan took it upon himself to restock the medkit, and helped rebandage my hand as I sat on my bed, Gaz sitting behind me, softly brushing my tangled mess of hair. 

This. This is what a pack was like.

[curtis-corner]

Stand By Me : A Darry Curtis Fic

Set during/after the events of The Outsiders, the story of how Darry Curtis falls in love and realizes he deserves it <3 Some angst, but always a happy ending. Not sure how many parts this will be, I've got a lot of ideas so it could go a while!

No use of y/n, told in second person POV. Comment to be added to the tag list!

TW (will update as story goes on): parent with gambling and drinking issues, mild violence (less than the book), swearing from our greasers

Part One

The radio plays The Four Tops and you turn it up a little louder.

You finish stuffing another roll of quarters and bend the edges so they stay shut. Mr. Murphy, the owner of the general store you work at, doesn’t let just anyone roll up the change – you’ve earned it, like you earned his trust.

You started working at Murphy’s General Store on weekends at fourteen when your mom ran off and your dad was spending his paycheck at the pool hall instead of filling the refrigerator. Once you finished high school, it turned to six days a week – every day except Sunday. Nobody really worked on Sunday. It was supposed to be a day of rest, but it was usually the day you could clean the house.

Today was Tuesday, and it felt far from Sunday, but you didn’t mind. The windows were open and a cool autumn breeze was coming through. Summers could be brutal in Tulsa, you weren’t sad to see it end.

The bells hanging over the front door give a jingle and you glance up to see Darrel Curtis walk through. He looks for you, gives you a small smile and then heads back towards the medical supplies. Darrel was always buying bandages or aspirin or ointment; you knew of his brothers and his friends and imagined someone always needed a bit of patching up in the Curtis house.

You subtly tried to check your reflection in the front windows, smoothing down your hair and adjusting the nametag on your dress. It was silly: Darrel had been coming in the store for years, more so now since his parents passed and besides being polite, he had never used a pickup line or any sort of flirting with you.

He used to smile more when he would come in with his football friends from the West Side of town, or with his parents or brothers. But not in the last eight months – every time you see him, he looks a little more tired, a little more worried. You wish you could talk to him; tell him you understand somewhat what it’s like to grow up too fast and wish so hard life had been different. But Darrel never seemed in the mood for small talk, let alone deep conversations, so you didn’t push.

He brings an assortment of medical supplies, packs of cigarettes, a six pack of beer and some lined paper and pencils to the check-out counter and you enter most of the prices into the register by memory. You take out a brown paper bag to put everything in and his hand reaches out.

“I can do it.” His voice, on the rare times you get to hear it, always made you feel a little warm.

“It’s alright, it’s my job.” You put the beer in the bag first since it was the heaviest, and you weren’t surprised when he started helping with the other items. You tell him his total and when you give him his change your soft hand brushes his rough one. You look up into his eyes and give a small smile.

“Thanks,” he says and for the first time in a few months, he holds your gaze.

“You’re welcome.” He gives you a nod and heads out and you don’t realize you are staring until the bell over the door jingles again with a group of teenagers.

The general store was in the middle of town, you saw everyone from Greasers to Socs and you tried to keep your head down and stay out of it all. You grew up on the East Side, poor like everyone else in your neighborhood, but you did alright in school and was in advanced classes that had you right next to the rich kids of Tulsa. You weren’t popular, but you weren’t an outcast; you had a few friends but working and taking care of your father always got in the way of really being a teenager.

Sometimes, late at night when the scary thoughts seemed to settle in, you wonder if this was going be the rest of your life: work at the store, take care of daddy, pay the bills, cook, clean and repeat. You were a few months away from turning twenty and you had never been in love, never done anything beyond a few innocent kisses.

You would remind yourself it wasn’t any use getting worked up about, plenty of people had it far worse. But sometimes you would wonder, what if…

---

A few days later, Darrel’s youngest brother’s face is all over the papers next to Johnny Cade’s, labelling them as dangerous criminals on the run for killing a Soc kid. They used Ponyboy’s school picture- he was barely 14, how could he be mixed up in all of this? The paper told a story of two hot head and dangerous Greasers murdering a nice boy from the West Side in cold blood.

But it didn’t sit right with you. You just knew it couldn’t be true, it had to be an accident, or something more had happened. You thought about it all through your shift, and then again when you were home picking empty beer bottles off the floor and cooking hamburgers for your father.

“Dad,” you try to shake him from where he was passed out on the couch. “Dad, there’s dinner on the table.”

“Breakfast?” He groaned, rolling over. He was still in the clothes he went out in from the previous night. You had taken his shoes off in the morning before you left for work so they wouldn’t dirty the couch.

“No Dad, it’s dinnertime. I got off work an hour ago. Here,” you hand him water and two aspirin. He downs both with practiced ease.

The night goes on as usual, you clean up dinner and tidy the house, while your dad takes a shower then heads out to the pool hall. Your company is the radio, softly playing in the living room while you patch a small hole in your favorite skirt. The Supremes sing about not hurrying love and your mind wonders to Darrel Curtis and how he’s handling everything.

--

Three days later Darrel comes into the general store, looking worse than when you saw him after his parents passed. It’s just the two of you, nearly closing time, and everyone else has done their shopping for the day.

He doesn’t make eye contact with you as he puts the beer and cigarettes on the counter and digs in his pocket for his wallet. You know you shouldn’t bring it up, it’s really none of your business even if the paper is trying to make it the whole town’s business. But you can’t stop yourself from asking:

“How are you doing Darrel?”

His head snaps up, eyes wary. You realize he’s read the same papers you have, he’s well aware of what they are saying about his brother and you rush to explain why you’re asking.

“I know Ponyboy and Johnny, not well, but they come in the store sometimes and they are sweet boys. Even when they are with Dallas Winston, who is always a little mouthy, or Two-bit who is always trying to swipe something, they stay sweet and out of too much trouble. I don’t think they did this at all.” It all comes rushing out of you and you know you’re starting to turn a faint shade of pink, but Darrel’s expression softens.

“They still haven’t found ‘em. Part of me doesn’t want them to, if what they are saying is true. But thinking of them out there…” he trails off and rubs the back of his neck, looking up, then back at you. “Sorry. I shouldn’t be talking about it.”

“I was the one who asked.” You say with a shrug. “And you still didn’t answer on how you were.” He doesn’t quite smile, but it’s almost close.

“Not so good.”

And maybe it was the honesty you weren’t expecting, or maybe it’s how his voice breaks a little on the word ‘good’, but you reach out and take his hand. That feeling from the other day is back, warmer this time and after a second, he holds your hand a little tighter.

“He’ll be okay,” you say, holding Darrel’s gaze. “I’ve said about a hundred prayers for him and Johnny already.” At this, he does start to smile, and you notice a deep dimple in his right cheek.

“You mind throwing in one for me too?”

“Sure,” You squeeze his hand again before having to let go to get his change. He glances at the clock hanging over the register.

“Y’all close soon, right?”

“In a few minutes. I did most of my chores already so I just have to lock everything up since the stock boy called out tonight.”

“You walk here?” You nod. “Let me give you a ride home. It’s getting rougher out there.” You open your mouth to protest, but he gives a pleading look. “Please.”

“Alright. I’ll only be a few minutes if you want to wait outside.” He nods and takes his bag out to the car while you try to take a few breaths as a you turn off the lights and get the keys for the front doors.

You go out the back door and when you walk around the building you see him leaning against the passenger side of his old truck. As you get closer he opens the door for you and you slide in.

He gets in, turns the ignition and you start driving towards the East Side. It’s quiet without the radio on and at first you can’t think of what to say, but he speaks first.

“Thank you, for what you said. About Pony and Johnny. They are good boys, they’re just…” he trails off.

“Mixed up in something awful. I’m sorry y’all have to go through it, I don’t have any siblings but I can’t even imagine.” You look out the side window to see a stray cat wandering down the road. You quietly tell him where to turn and he nods, pulling in front of the old, run down house.

“Do you work every day?” Darrel asks. You nod.

“Every day except Sunday. Mostly the morning and afternoon shifts, but twice a week I close up too.”

“That’s a lot of shifts,” he says and you glance up at the house where a dim light shines from the front room. If you don’t bring home the money, those lights would be dark. You learned that at fourteen years old.

“It’s not that bad. Mr. Murphy is about the best boss you can ask for. And it’s a job, and better than the ones some people have to do.”

“You see the good in everything?” he asks skeptically and you let out a small laugh.

“Not always. But I try to.” He’s looking into your eyes now, really looking. “It makes living a bit easier when you do.”

“Maybe I’ll try it sometime.” His voice is a little deeper, and it makes your head feel lighter. You know you need to leave the truck before you say something even crazier than you already have, even though leaving the truck is about the last thing you want to do.

“Thanks for the ride Darrel.”

“Darry.” He corrects and you raise your eyebrows. “You can call me Darry.”

“Alright. Darry.”

[kiwiana-writes]

Six(ish) Sentence Sunday

Thanks @welcometololaland @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @junebugclaremontdiaz for the tags!

*weary sigh* So I'm still sick, which means I've been doing a lot of lying on the couch feeling sorry for myself and scrolling tiktok, and I... may have fallen down a rabbit hole. Between this and all the clamouring on sex club spanking for a sequel, my WIP list is now up to an even 60. Send help.

Alex is grinning as he reads the name he’s drawn, but Henry sees it—the way his smile goes fixed and brittle, the smallest of twitches between his eyebrows—and he knows what’s coming even before Pez leans over Alex’s shoulder and smirks, microphone pressed to his lips. “Alex Claremont-Diaz dancing with… Henry Fox-Mountchristen.” Alex practically stalks over to where Henry’s sitting, thrusting a hand out with the air of a man feeding one of his favourite appendages to a particularly hungry lion. Henry wonders if anyone else recognises how much fun Pez is having with this when he adds: “We are in for a treat with this one, folks.” “Why the fuck do you follow, anyway?” The words barely escape through Alex’s clenched teeth. “Don’t you think it would be more appropriate for you to lead?” “Because I’m a man?” Henry has his competition face on as much as Alex does, so he hopes when he quirks his eyebrow it looks teasing rather than challenging. “Bit of an outdated position to hold, don’t you think?” Alex rolls his eyes. “Not because you’re a guy, Jesus. Because you’re fucking eight feet tall with legs for days.” Henry blinks, suddenly unclear as to the exact turn this conversation has taken.

Tagging @affectionatelyrs @anchoredarchangel @anincompletelist @celaestis1 @celeritas2997 @cha-melodius @clottedcreamfudge @cricketnationrise @cultofsappho @daisymae-12 @dumbpeachjuice @everwitch-magiks @firenati0n @getmehighonmagic @happiness-of-the-pursuit @heybuddy-drabbles @indestructibleheart @indomitable-love @inexplicablymine @leaves-of-laurelin @littlemisskittentoes @lizzie-bennetdarcy @magicandarchery @matherines @myheartalivewrites @ninzied @nocoastposts @notspecialbabe @orchidscript @rmd-writes @sherryvalli @ships-to-sail @smc-27 @sparklepocalypse @ssmtskw @stereopticons @three-drink-amy @tintagel-or-cockleshells @whimsymanaged and, as always, anyone who wants to play! (If you take the open tag please tag me so I can see!!)

[holylulusworld]

A gentle scent (2)

Summary: He’s your alpha now.

Written for @spnkinkevents SPN Omegaverse Week – Day 4 – Sunday, April 17 - Submissive Alpha and/or Dominant Omega

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x Omega!Reader

Warnings: angst, language, late bloomer, dirty talk, cocky reader, needy Dean, Beta turns out to be alpha, true mates, possessive omega

Word Count:

Catch up here: A gentle scent

SPN Omegaverse Week Masterlist

Eight months later, …

“She’s dead,” you growl low in your throat. “I will go over there and rip her throat out. Maybe I’ll make a nice puzzle out of her body parts.”

Sam inhales sharply. He already knows that you are very territorial when it comes to his brother, your mate, and newbie alpha. “Y/N, he only tries to get information from her. Dean would never cheat on you.”

You huff. “I trust Dean,” you roll your eyes at Sam’s comment. “This is about that woman putting her hand on my man’s bicep. She can scent me on him and still, that needy bitch touches what’s mine!”

“You’re a very possessive omega, huh?” Sam watches you clench and unclench your fists. “I’m not saying that this is a bad thing.”

“Stay out of our relationship,” you snap at Sam. “I’m protective, not possessive. Dean presented not eight months ago. He’s not used to omegas being all over him, or how to tame his alpha. My alpha needs a strong hand and guidance.”

Sam snorts. He never took his brother for a sub. It seems that Dean trusts you enough to give up control and let you guide him.

“That’s it,” you push off the wall to stalk toward Dean and the witness. “Agent, Hetfield, you need to come to an end. We got a new lead.”

“Oh, sure,” Dean nods. Your scent got stronger, and he knows, you are about to attack the omega touching his arm. He didn’t think much about it. The hunter always used his good looks and charm to get information out of people. It’s different now that he’s mated.

You wrap your hand around Dean’s wrist and tug lightly. “If you’d excuse us now. Me and Agent Hetfield have more people to interrogate.”

“Maybe we can meet up later,” she dares to say. “I’m off work at five.” She batts her lashes and smiles at Dean.

“He’s mated,” you grit your teeth and glare at the woman. “Do you have no shame?”

Before you lose control you tug at Dean’s wrist again and guide him away from the woman and toward his brother.

Sam watches his brother follow you like a clueless puppy. He snickers, already knowing you are going to throw a tantrum back at the motel.

“Sweetheart, I’d never do such a thing. She touched my arm and I let her, to get her to talk to me. You know I only have eyes for you,” Dean whines when you throw your shoe against the wall.

You’re close to your pre-heat and angry at yourself for feeling the way you do. Dean would never cheat on you, you know that, but your omega can’t bear watching him near another woman.

“She touched you,” you wrinkle your nose. Even though you forced Dean to shower, you still smell her on him. “I can smell that bitch on you.”

“No, you can’t,” he murmurs, and steps closer to you. “I only want you, omega. You know that. No woman can compare to you. You took my knot virginity after all.” Dean grins now. “I hope you remember that you took it.”

“Of course, I remember that I turned a lost puppy into a feral wolf wanting to mate me anytime he gets the chance to do so,” you smirk and run your hand over his arm. “Now he’s a good alpha.”

“You helped me become a better man,” his features soften when you tilt your head in submission. You rarely give in to your nature and let Dean have control. “You know that I only want to put my knot inside of you, right?”

“I hope so,” you cup his crotch, lightly squeezing him through his pants. His cock twitches in interest, and you chuckle at his eagerness. “Because I only want your knot inside of me.”

“I hope so,” Dean mirrors your smirk. He tilts his head to expose his untouched mating gland to you. “How about you show every omega that I’m only yours…”

Tags in reblog.