#YOU ARE GOING TO GIVE ME A BRAIN ANEURYSM

[qqueenofhades]

Gotta say, it's heartening to see just how terrible a time these GOP chucklefucks are having. This administration and its cronies are even MORE disastrously incompetent than last time, and that's saying something. Yeah, the next several years are still gonna suck, but at least we can laugh at these shit-for-brains assholes continuing to run head-first into the brick wall of their own incompetence. And perhaps even prevent the worst outcomes.

Honestly, the biggest fear for everyone was that giving the fascists four more years to plan and actually write down all of Project 2025 would mean that they were focused, competent, stone cold driven, ready to actually work to change things for real, and otherwise buckle down and be -- well, if not something approaching competent, at least effective. Or the fear that the American public, being fickle and underinformed at the best of times, would just sit back and let them do it. Because, yknow. Half this godforsaken country did just somehow shrug and vote for the orange monster again, so.

But that said, as I pointed out earlier today, it IS fucking heartening to see that they're the same mean, stupid, chaotic shitbags as ever, they really decided to go for the shock-and-awe LOL WATCH US BLOW EVERYTHING UP!!! approach that has gotten them nothing except turbo-sued and enraged the entire country, they basically united the entire world against Russia and for Ukraine in literally ten minutes yesterday (hope you enjoyed that little clown show, Vladimir!) and furthermore, nobody is afraid of them, which is death to fascists. I often point out that fascists desperately want people to be afraid of them and think they're cool, competent, unstoppable, and suave. They also especially, incredibly, desperately hate being laughed at and mocked. They can't stand it.

As such, the fact that they're just the same as ever except worse, and are not magically more competent (in fact, much worse) and are their own worst enemies, does in fact bode well for our ultimate ability to get through this. They will break shit, they will needlessly alienate friends and allies, they will torment every vulnerable group they can just to be dicks, and all of this was just so avoidable... but. Nobody likes them for it, even the people who deluded themselves into voting for them. They're scared little chickenshits who are having a bad bad time that will only get worse, especially if they actually try to cut Social Security and Medicaid, which is basically the death knell of stupid things to do in American politics. Because they just can't help themselves, but this is really, REALLY not going to work out well for them. It just won't.

As such, when they're already running from the heat ONE MONTH into the Glorious Eternal Rule of King Donald, like the little pissbabies they are, it tells me that there is literally no way they're gonna manage four years of this. They just aren't (and Deo volente Trump will finally have an aneurysm and die facedown in a Big Mac before 2028). To say the least, the 2026 midterms are gonna be interesting, especially if the GOP keeps digging their own grave, and yes.

As I keep saying: things are bad. They will get worse. But these miserable jabronies are just as pathetic and beatable as they have ever been, they did not suddenly get magically competent at being pointlessly evil, the country is showing out with a spirited will to make them suffer immensely for every braindead numbnuts piece of Nazi performative cruelty they attempt and often fail, and in these dark times, every day that we can fight back matters a lot. It’s working and we have gotta keep doing it. Idk about you, but I feel energized by seeing it. So yeah, say it with me:

STAY! STRONG! AND! KEEP! THEM! SCARED!

The end.

[frnkiebby]

i swear to fucking god~🎃

[turnedpalefromlackofsun]

Did I even mention how one of my siblings got into one of the best colleges in the nation

That I am now applying to because that shit will set me for life that's how good it is

And said sibling thinks it's trash cuz their friends got jealous and told them it's trash

Bro is an idiot. I'm Weeping

[fingertipsmp3]

I really get back from a (1) event and I have to lie in the recovery position for approximately three business days

[lazylittledragon]

taking all my american followers by the shoulders. listen to me. just because you have a more promising candidate now doesn't mean you just assume it's going to be fine and don't bother voting. assuming trump wasn't going to win is how you got here in the first place so you go out and fucking vote for harris and give everyone a fighting chance.

also if you're still in the 'they're both as bad as eachother' delirium, please take your head out from between your cheeks and consider that your options are an imperfect president and the literal worst person alive who is going to get masses of people killed. i've said it like this before, but it's like deciding between maybe getting food poisoning or definitely having a brain aneurysm. take your pick i guess but don't be surprised when you drop dead.

[tawnfawn]

intoxicated | könig

summary: you get along with everyone on your team, except for könig. you think he hates you, but his perceived distaste for you only makes you want him more. you're able to keep your composure until you're partnered up for a mission, where everything seems to go wrong...

tags: könig x fem!reader smut. cod. pure filthy, shameless smut. sex pollen. proofread. MDNI. 5,000+ words

cw: dubcon (due to sex pollen but there's clear consent before and after). unprotected sex (reader IS on birth control, wrap it before you tap it), p in v, oral m!receiving, fingering, accidental drug use (sex pollen), dom!könig and sub!reader, light humiliation kink, heavy praise, size kink if you squint, overstimulation, mutual pining, violence, killing.

MDNI. NSFW BELOW THE CUT

You crept around the corner of the warehouse with your rifle, watching König’s six as you progressed. The other KorTac members were stationed on site as well, giving quick updates through comms as you progressed. Details were scarce, except that in the warehouse, a Russian terrorist group was producing a bioweapon capable of mass destruction—and anyone inside was KOS.

Of course, the bioweapon in question was…dubious, to say the least. A strong aphrodisiac, the contractor had explained, much to the astonishment of your team. During the briefing, you’d managed to keep a straight face, but not all of your teammates were as courteous.

“So let me get this straight—you want us to risk our lives for…Viagra?” Horangi had questioned, exasperated. Your lips pursed at his crudeness, but it was exactly what you were thinking too.

The scientist’s face flushed. “N-no, this is much different,” he snapped. As one of the architects of the bioweapon, he was clearly offended. “It is much, much stronger. Exposure to just one dose will cause severe arousal: heart palpitations, excessive sweating, overheating. Imagine…” He seemed to be struggling to find the words. “Imagine a brain overload, yes? Rational thinking…disappears. Victims may lose all motor control. Too long without treatment can result in heart failure, aneurysms, seizures, stroke, and sometimes death.”

“So what is the treatment?” you interrupted, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Sex,” the scientist answered, shifting uncomfortably on his heels. “It was designed to be, ah… difficult.”

Your jaw clenched, and your eyes darted to König. He was staring down the scientist, narrowed eyes betraying no emotion. While everyone else struggled to keep their bafflement hidden, his sniper hood obscured any hope of reading him. Just my fucking luck, you thought when you were partnered with him.

It wasn’t that you disliked König; it was just that you found it so much more difficult to talk to him. With the rest of your teammates, you were fine. A natural people reader, you were comfortable with the rest of them, relying on body language and the details they let slip to learn more about them. In fact, you considered yourself to be pretty close with them—unsurprising, given that in your line of work, your life rested in their hands and vice versa. But König was… different. You didn’t distrust him, per say, but outside of the battlefield, he was quiet. Reclusive. No matter how many times you’d tried to get him to open up, he barely interacted with you, despite talking to the others. You’d chalked it down to being the newest on the team at first, but now that you’d served over a year and a half together, you were frustrated. Shouldn’t that be well enough time to open up at least a little bit?

You knew your thinking was illogical. Your job was to hunt targets and invade bases, not deep dive into your coworker’s soul, but you couldn’t help the way it took over your mind. Your need to understand him had become a bit of an obsession. You constantly found yourself looking at him, trying to discern any emotion his eyes betrayed. You listened intently for any of his input in person or on comms, no matter how menial it was. You studied his body language, taken note of any habits or gestures. You’d even memorized the way he reloaded his guns.

It was…embarrassing, to say the least. But could you blame yourself? He was so tall and strong and imposing that even just standing next to him made you, a normally very confident and intimidating woman, feel small. Such was the reason that you pushed yourself extra harder whenever you were paired up with him, making sure he knew you were valuable, a force to be reckoned with. Your excellent performance had made you two quite the duo, often clearing out legions of enemies in mere minutes. And you had to admit, seeing him absolutely obliterate enemy lines made you feel some type of way…

But not like that, of course. You were just…curious. When he finally opened up to you (and not if, but when), your obsession would stop, and everything would be fine. At least, that’s what you told yourself.

Today, however, there were a lot less enemies than you’d expected. Sure, there were quite a few soldiers stationed around the warehouse (which your team had incapacitated quickly), but inside, save for some scientists and the occasional guard, it was eerily empty and quiet.

“It’s fucking cold,” Horangi’s voice rang out from your radio. You sighed and brought the device to your lips.

“It’s fucking Russia,” you stated. “What did you think it’d be? Beachy?”

König’s quiet chuckle sounded from in front of you, and you couldn’t help the pride that swarmed in your heart. Heat burst in your cheeks, but you tried to brush it off.

“Fuck off,” Horangi replied. “East side clear.”

“West unknown,” you said. “Standby.” You tucked the radio back into your pocket, following your teammate.

You both peeked around the corner to the last room. It was filled to the brim with lab equipment—beakers, bunsen burners, flasks, microscopes—all sitting atop of large resin tables. Bright, fluorescent lights bounced off the sterile grey walls and ceiling, creating a dull glare that was almost depressing. Neat racks of tightly sealed vials and test tubes peeked through glass cabinets on the walls, parallel to the large sinks below. Across the room was a row of unfamiliar-looking equipment, and next to that, an enormous whiteboard boasting messily scrawled notes, diagrams, and equations. A bag of what looked like takeout sat on a nearby desk next to a crumpled napkin and a perspiring styrofoam cup. It was almost exactly what you’d imagined a stereotypical laboratory to look like, albeit a bit messier and more lived in. A singular man stood working at one of the tables, frantically scribbling on a notepad with his back facing toward you. König motioned for you to stay put as he crept forward. You complied.

Then the man dropped his pen.

“Xyй,” he cursed and turned around to pick it up. Of course, when he turned around, he saw König’s gigantic form pointing a gun at him, and he screamed. You fired your suppressed pistol, but not before the scientist hurled a glass vial at König. It shattered against his tactical vest as the dead scientist crumpled to the ground, releasing a burst of lavender-colored smoke that curled into the air and quickly dissipated.

König ripped off his tactical vest, coughing violently, but it was too late—the substance had already entered his lungs, likely reaching his bloodstream by now. He stared at you, blue eyes wide with—for the first time you’d ever seen—fear. 

“Oh, fuck,” he muttered, and he staggered to the wall, crashing down to the floor.

“König?” You stared at him, stricken. His eyes were closed, and he was stock still—stiller than you’d ever seen him—and for a long, hard moment, you thought he might be dead. 

Then his eyes snapped open. His pupils were dilated and blown, a sea of black barely tinged by blue irises. He stared at you, unmoving, before letting out a groan and bringing his hand over his face.

“Oh, fuck,” you whispered. You grabbed your radio. “M-man down!” you stammered into it. “König’s been exposed. West side clear. Requesting med evac in thirty minutes. Going dark.” You turned it off, not bothering to listen to any input. The rest of your team knew what this meant. As did you.

In the time you’d been on the radio, König had torn off all of his other gear, leaving himself in just his shirt, pants, and boots. He was panting, his chest heaving with each breath, ungloved hand still hiding his masked face as he cursed in German.

You crossed the room in seconds and kneeled at his side. “Hey, it’s gonna be okay, König, just breathe—”

“No,” he breathed. His voice was deeper, raspier than normal, and the unbridled heat in it sent a shiver down your spine. His hands were clenched into fists, body tensed as he fought the invisible infection. “Go. Now.”

“You know I can’t leave—”

His hand fell to his side, letting his eyes meeting yours for a split second. “Please,” he groaned, starting to tremble as you drew closer. “I—I can’t—”

His gaze strayed lower, and you followed it to the growing bulge in his pants. You gulped, unmoving, and he grabbed your arm. The force of it was enough to make you still.

“Go,” he insisted, his accent even thicker than usual. “I’m not—I cannot control myself.”

“I’m not gonna leave you here!” you argued, swatting his hand away. “You’re my teammate. You could die.”

“I will hurt you,” he retorted. All the muscles in his body were tensed, clearly on overdrive. Even his eyes were watering. “Please, maus. I am not gentle.”

Something inside about his statement made your thighs clench together, but you tried to ignore it. Tentatively, you brought your hand to his chin, pulling his face towards you. His skin was feverish, and your heart twisted in sympathy. “Let me help you,” you pleaded, and he inhaled sharply.

“It feels like I’m burning,” he hissed, and you frowned. His black compression shirt was nearly soaked with sweat, and you grabbed the fabric, pulling it up. He pawed at your arm weakly, but you shushed him.

“You’re overheating. Take it off,” you ordered, and finally, he let you pull it over his head, sagging back against the wall as you threw it to the side.

You’d seen him without a shirt before—it was hard not to with this kind of job, what with donning injuries all the time—but this was different. His head was thrown back as he panted, toned chest heaving with each breath, and you could see all of the muscles in his chiseled abdomen clenched, glistening with a thin sheen of sweat. It was… erotic. Just looking at him made you feel dirty. You felt the thrum of something other than worry in your abdomen, and you swallowed.

“Leave me,” König growled, but it sounded more desperate than commanding. You shook your head at him.

“Not letting you die, König.” You began to rip off your gear, tugging off your tactical vest and discarding your weapons. 

König grabbed your wrist. “What are you…?”

“Wanna help you, okay?” you said softly, trying to catch his eyes as they darted over your face. “Are you gonna let me?”

He took in a deep breath, his other hand in a death grip on his thigh. “I-I don’t want to hurt you,” he repeated, but it was starting to lose its original harshness. He was fading, and fast.

“It’s okay,” you murmured. You placed your hand on his bare chest, feeling the way his heartbeat stuttered and stammered under your touch. He cursed in response, the hand on your wrist twitching, clearly fighting the urge to touch you. In a split-second decision, you swung your right leg over his lap and straddled him, careful not to grind against him, waiting for an answer first. He let out a choked noise and grabbed you by the hips, his tight grip making you gasp. “Yes or no?” you breathed.

“Ahhh, maus.” The low groan he let out was nearly animalistic. “Yes,” he begged, and that was all you needed to hear.

You started grinding on his lap gently, trying to restrain yourself from going further. You wanted to be mindful of his sensitivity, but König simply huffed in annoyance and used his tight grip on your hips to tug you all the way down into his lap—allowing you to feel everything. The imprint of his hard, throbbing cock made you dizzy; you couldn’t resist pressing against it, moaning softly at the delicious friction it granted your clit.

“Scheiße,” König murmured, his thighs twitching underneath you. You felt bad, knowing he was probably dying for some real contact, so you decided to give it to him.

Your heart raced as you reached for his waistband, unbuckling his belt and sliding his pants to his knees. His cock was straining against his briefs, a wet patch forming from precum, and you quickly removed those as well, watching his hardened cock spring up and then fall slightly, its weight making it unable to reach his stomach. Your mouth went dry. Fuck, he was huge. You supposed it made sense: as an exceptionally large man, it was logical to have a proportionally large cock, but the sight of it still shocked you.

“Maus,” he whispered, breaking you out of your trance. He stared at you apprehensively, and you wrapped your much smaller hands around his cock, hearing him suck in a breath. You took a moment to marvel at the sheer size of him—your normally average-sized fingers looked miniature in contrast, unable to even fully wrap around his length. You felt your own arousal seep into your underwear, and you leaned down to kiss his tip.

The moan he let out turned you on even more than before, and you wasted no time teasing him, spitting into your hand and pumping his cock a few times before bringing the tip into your mouth, swirling your tongue over the slit before pushing him further down your throat. His cock was so large that you had to fight not to scrape your teeth against it, flattening your tongue under the base of it.

His hand fisted into your hair, pulling slightly every time you moved your lips up and down his shaft, twisting your hand in tandem. Your other hand gripped onto one of his thick thighs, feeling his leg twitch as he struggled not to buck his hips up into your mouth. Each strained noise and curse you coaxed from him only encouraged you more, your own whimpers muffled against his cock as you did your best to fit him down your throat.

After only a few minutes, you felt him twitching in your hand and sped up your pace, determined to pleasure him as much as possible. Curses fell from his lips as he finished, hot spurts of his release shooting down your throat. You swallowed it quickly, continuing to pump your hand up and down his still rock-hard shaft.

König, however, pulled you off quickly, eyes wide and dark with an almost fearful desperation as he stared at you. “The poison. It’s still…”

You looked back down to see his cock still twitching in your hand. “It’s okay,” you said, starting to lean back down, “I’ll just—”

“No!” He pulled you back up by the neck. You blinked at him in shock, and he stared back, pupils blown wide like black moons. There was a fiery hunger in his eyes as he looked at you, one you’d never seen before. The sheer want in his gaze sent a cold shiver down your spine. No one had ever looked at you like this before—like you were prey.

“König?” you asked nervously.

Instead of answering, he began to unbuckle your belt, and you gasped as his hand reached under your waistband to cup your clothed core, index finger tracing lightly over your clit. You fought back a mewl, chest seizing as you shut your eyes from the pleasure.

“So wet,” he marveled. He pushed your underwear to the side, smearing your arousal over your soaked folds as you whimpered, bucking your hips into his hand. “Just from sucking my cock?”

His switch in demeanor startled you, and you moaned as one of his large fingers pressed into your weeping hole, curling inside you with precision. His hands were so much bigger than yours; the stretch was making your knees weak. He quickly found your G-spot, taking care to press against it as you arched into him. “Oh, oh, fuck, König,” you whimpered, coaxing a dark chuckle from him that made you clench around him.

Your thighs clenched around his hand, but he pried them apart with ease, forcing you to straddle him and rendering you helpless to his ministrations as he slowly dragged another finger in and out of you. With each achingly slow push into your dripping hole, he made sure to curl them just right, long fingers able to reach that sensitive spongy spot inside you effortlessly. His palm laid flat against your clit as he stroked your walls, letting you sloppily grind into his hand as he murmured praise into your ear.

“Does that feel good, liebling?” he asked, drinking in each of your breathy, pleasured noises with satisfaction. “You like making a mess on my fingers, mm?”

You simply whimpered, too embarrassed of your flustered state to form a real response. He seemed to pick up the hint, giving you a cocky smirk through his mask. “Ohh, it’s okay, maus,” he cooed, but his soft words were laced with a smug condescension that made your cheeks burn. “You look so pretty like this, all dumb on my fingers. I wish I could’ve seen it earlier.”

You whined again, desperately grinding down on his palm for more friction. His slow pace was torturous, giving you just enough to feel pleasure but not enough to build it. It was mean. It was twisted. It was agonizing. You were eating it up.

“Please,” you tried, teary eyes boring into his. “Can you—can you please—”

“Can I what, maus?” He cocked his head, darkened eyes twinkling with mirth. “Tell me, or I can’t help you.”

You know what I want, you wanted to shout at him, but you knew that wouldn’t work. “Please,” you begged, “I need more."

“What more do you need, maus?” he asked again. “You have a mouth. Use it.”

“Need you to—” You whimpered pitifully, dropping your head into his shoulder. “Please, need you to go—go harder.” You nearly sobbed out the words, desperation winning out over your embarrassment. You were mortified at your teary, shaking voice, but he seemed to revel in it, squeezing your thigh in appreciation.

“Oh, is that what you wanted?” he teased, and you could hear the smirk in his voice. “You could have just said so.”

He set a steady pace with his fingers, bullying them inside of you hard enough to make you squirm against him. With each thrust, he curled them just right, sending your eyes rolling back and mouth falling open in heavy pants as you mewled into his shoulder. You were grateful to be spared of his intense gaze; you didn’t think you could look at him in the state you were in. It was mortifying just hearing the sounds of his fingers pumping in and out of your gushing cunt.

“Oh, maus,” he cooed into your ear as you trembled, keening at the stretch of his fingers. “You’re just so beautiful like this, you know. So fucking desperate and pathetic. I wish I could see you like this all the time.”

Would I like him to finger me like this all the time? Hell yes, you thought to yourself, but you couldn’t find the words to tell him, only able to whine and nod vigorously into his shoulder, lost in the feeling of his fingers inside you. You could feel yourself starting to reach the edge of your climax, grinding harder and harder into his palm and gasping with each spark of pleasure it gave your throbbing clit. You were so wet that you were starting to wonder if you’d been infected, too; each time he hit your g-spot just right, you felt more and more slick dribbling out of you and down your thighs. It was driving you insane.

“K-König!” You managed a cry of his name right before you came, clenching around his fingers as you bucked your hips into his hand. Breathy whines fell from your lips, your thighs shaking and seizing as you squirmed in his hold, feeling an almost overwhelming wave of pleasure wash over your body. The feeling was so intense it was almost painful; you hadn’t had an orgasm in so long, and the effect was palpable. His arms held you tight, keeping you grounded while you shuddered in his grasp, his big fingers determined to prolong your ecstasy.

When you finally came down from your high, you couldn’t look at him, mortified at your messy state. His fingers were still knuckle-deep in your arousal, and you could feel more of your slick dripping down your thighs, wet and uncomfortable. You kept your head buried in his chest shyly while your happy cunt stayed spasming in his hand.

“Okay, schatz?” he asked softly, using his free hand to tilt your head towards him. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

You stared up at him, mouth open. There were practically hearts in your eyes; your adoration was clear to him, and he laughed at your expression, cradling your cheek with his hand. “Aww, schatz.” He clicked his tongue, a smile audible in his voice. “You’re so sweet.”

Your cheeks burned red at the words, and you blinked rapidly, unable to look away. His piercing blue eyes stayed trained on yours, but there was a warmth in them that soothed you. He petted your cheek, lifting his hood to press a kiss to your forehead.

Your mind felt fuzzy. All you could think about was your need to be filled by him, and you pawed at his hard cock, wrapping your fingers around the base of it. A hiss of pleasure escaped him, and you kept your eyes on his, wide and pleading. “Please fuck me,” you whispered, still trembling in his grasp.

König’s eyes darkened, and he tugged off the rest of your bottoms quickly. His strong hands lifted you to hover you over his cock, and you shuddered with anticipation, head spinning. He rubbed the tip through your dripping folds, coaxing out a gasp as it brushed over your swollen clit. You tried to push him inside, squirming, but his tight grip on the bottoms of your thighs kept you in place, and you whined his name, hoping he would take pity on you.

“Bitte, König,” you begged, and he practically growled at the words, mercifully allowing you to sink onto the tip of his cock and drawing out a desperate mewl. Even with how wet you were, he was so, so big that he was practically tearing you in half.

“K-König—”

“Hush, liebling,” he soothed, and you moaned as your core clenched around him, beacons of pleasure ripping through you from just the feel of him. He waited for you to relax and then pushed in farther as you gasped at his length.

“Mmph! König—” You keened as he continued to push himself into you, waiting each time to make sure you were okay. You could feel his hard cock twitch with each thrust, and you knew it must be difficult for him not to go straight into fucking you, that he was holding himself back to be more gentle. The thought only made you moan louder.

Tears slipped down your cheeks when he finally bottomed out, and he wiped them away with his thumb. “I’m sorry, maus,” he groaned, no doubt feeling the way you clenched around him. “You’re just—so tight—”

You wanted to tell him to it was okay, but from your already fucked out mind, all that came out was a dumb whimper of his name. In response, he pulled up his sniper hood to kiss your forehead, to which you whined and chased his lips with your mouth. This made him chuckle, and he guided your lips to his, coaxing out a soft moan as his tongue met yours. He tasted wonderful, and you mewled into his mouth, feeling even more worked up from the way he kissed you: hot and desperate and sweet, like the world was ending and you were the last ones in it.

“Mein maus,” he growled, suddenly thrusting up into you and making your eyes roll back. His hips snapped against yours, setting a pace that sent your thoughts reeling. “Taking me so well, doing so good for me, hm? Du bist mein schatz, ja?”

“Yes, fuck—yes,” you babbled, barely able to understand what he was saying. His unusually rough tone was fogging up your dumbed-out mind, the contrast between his sweet words and punishing pace reducing you to nothing but a crying, creaming mess. You’d never been this wet for someone before. “Yes, yes, yes, I’m yours, please—”

“Good girl,” he moaned, pushing you up and down his cock with dizzying strength. Your legs tightened around his waist as he thrust up into you, high-pitched and pitiful noises falling from your lips at a shameful volume. He was using you like a toy, you thought, and the notion of it made your pleasured cries even louder.

“Mmm, yeah? Mmm?” He mimicked your breathy moans, and you could hear the grin in his voice. Normally, you’d be mortified, likely retorting with some witty insult, but now? Now with the way he was fucking you, all you could do was whine in pitiful response.

“So needy for me,” he groaned, punctuating each word with a deep thrust. The sheer force of him made your eyes roll back, and you felt that tight coil in your belly close to snapping.

“Fuck, König—” You panted heavily, your legs starting to give out. “K-König, oh my God, I’m gonna—”

“I know,” he cooed, pulling you closer to his chest so your clit could find purchase on his toned abs. “Doing so good for me, schatz. Such a good girl, getting off on me like this. Like the way I feel, mm?”

His sweet praise became your tipping point, your orgasm hitting you like a freight train. You cried his name, mouth falling open in shock as your legs kicked out, your cunt weeping and convulsing around him as you keened. You gasped for air as your orgasm rocked through you, the pleasure suddenly becoming all too much as he continued to drill himself into your gushing cunt.

Tears streamed down your cheeks as you sobbed from the overstimulation, but he didn’t let up his pace, pressing chaste kisses to your lips to soothe you. “Wonder how many orgasms I can get from you,” he murmured. You could hear the smile in his voice as he panted. “How many more, mein schatz?”

“I—I don’t know!” you cried as his pelvis dragged against your clit, sending shocks of electricity through you. “I don’t—I can’t—”

He groaned as you trembled in his hold, pretty blue eyes boring into yours. “You can do it for me,” he replied. “I know you can. Isn’t that right, liebling?”

“Ahh—König—” The juxtaposition of his soft kisses and brutal pace was making your head spin. Too overwhelmed to answer, you just clutched onto his shoulders tighter, crying out every time his skin brushed against your puffy, overstimulated clit. It was painful. It was overwhelming. It felt so fucking good.

“Hush, mein schatz,” he coaxed, holding you closer as you clenched around his cock, babbling incoherently as he fucked up into you. “You’re doing so good, I promise.”

The answer was two. Two more earth-shattering orgasms before he finally went soft, coming inside of you twice before either (1), his dick just gave out, or (2), the poison wore off. Either way, by the end of it, you were exhausted and fucked out, still recovering from your cock-drunk state as he cleaned you up.

“I’m sorry, maus,” he apologized, sounding genuinely remorseful as he gently wiped your soaked thighs with a clean cloth he had found in the room. “I’m so sorry, I don’t—I don’t know what came over me.”

“Drugs,” you supplied, staring at the ceiling in exhaustion. “Really bad drugs.”

“Yes, drugs,” he agreed, carefully mopping your folds as you sighed. “But still—I am sorry. I was…overzealous. I hope I did not hurt you too bad.”

“I’ll be a little sore,” you admitted, glancing at the bruises his fingers had left on your waist and hips. “But I’ll be fine, trust me.”

He sighed, somehow managing to look resigned even with the sniper hood. “I should not have been so hard on you. I’m sorry.”

“Honestly?” you murmured, blinking at him sleepily. “That was the best sex I’ve ever had.”

He froze for a moment. “What?” 

“Not that I’ve had a lot of sex,” you said quickly. “But still, that was the best I’ve ever had. Probably will ever have, now that I think about it. You must be very experienced. Oh God, I should not have said that out loud. I am—I am so sorry.”

Even with his sniper hood on, you could tell he was blushing. “Oh, um—it’s okay, maus.” You could hear the shyness in his voice. “I do not consider that to be my best performance, but I will take it as a compliment.”

“Your best performance?” You stared at him, mind running through everything that had just happened. You’d had sex before, but that—that was a whole ass experience. You’d never even dreamed about anything that good. “Christ, what’s your best performance, then?”

“Well,” he replied, sliding your soaked underwear back up your legs for you, “I would have taken you out on a date first, at the very least. That would be the proper way to court you.”

“Court me?” you repeated, sitting up straight. “I didn’t know you were so well-mannered, König.”

He looked away from you, shifting awkwardly from his spot on the floor. “I try to be courteous before sticking my dick in people.”

It took you a moment to realize he was joking, and you laughed—actually really laughed out loud. His awkward humor was charming you, and you felt warmth swell in your chest as you listened to him speak. You grinned at him, his eyes crinkling in a smile back.

König still smiled, but a hint of sadness pervaded his gaze. “Ah, schatz.” He hesitated. “I would have liked to make love to you,” he sighed, “but I did not imagine these would be the circumstances. I was hoping to take you on a date first, get to know you better.”

“You wanted to what?” Your eyes widened, and you blinked in confusion. “But…I thought you didn’t like me.”

König practically jolted in place. It was like you’d electrocuted him. He stared at you. “Why would you ever think that?”

“You talk to everyone but me,” you said softly. “I thought you didn’t trust me. Thought you hated me.”

“Hated—?” He shook his head vigorously. “No, I wanted to speak to you. You just…made me nervous. The others do not.”

“I made you nervous?” The words fell from your lips with shock, your eyebrows furrowing. “How would I—how did I ever make you nervous? You’re like three times the size of me!”

König shrugged, sheepish. “You’re very pretty. And you seemed…kind, and well-connected with the others. I have trouble finding that connection. I didn’t want to say the wrong thing to you and fuck it up.”

“So you said nothing at all.” You were quiet for a moment, turning over the information in your mind. “Wow. I was way off.”

“Yes,” he agreed, “but it is okay. I’m sorry for making you think I disliked you, schatz.”

“It’s okay,” you chuckled, shaking your head in disbelief. You ran a hand through your hair, beyond shocked at everything happening. You couldn’t believe you’d fucked your colleague, the one you’d had a crush on for who knows long, and also discovered that he didn’t, in fact, hate you. “At least I know now.”

“Next time, I will be better,” König vowed, helping you tug on your pants. “More gentle. I will do things right, I promise.”

“Next time?” You hesitated, biting your lip. “There will be a next time?”

“Of course there will,” he answered, adjusting his tactical gloves. “Did you not hear what I said earlier?”

“Um…which one?” He’d said a lot of things earlier.

He helped you to your feet, towering over you as he cupped his large hand under your jaw. Your heart stopped in your chest as you looked up into his eyes, his large frame dwarfing yours beyond comparison. “Du bist mein schatz, ja?” he repeated, gloved thumb tracing over your bottom lip. His very soul seemed to ooze confidence. “That’s what I said, no?’

With the way he was making you feel right now, you didn’t think it was even possible to say the word no. “Y-yes,” you stammered, adoration clear in your eyes as you gazed up at him.

He chuckled and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “So there will be a next time. Unless, of course, you don’t want to.”

“N-no, no, no, I definitely want!” you said quickly. You stumbled over your words in your eagerness, and your cheeks flushed in embarrassment. “I would like that a lot.”

“Good,” he said, patting the top of your head. Normally, you’d be furious at such an action, but considering his height, it seemed more practical than condescending. “Now come, schatz,” he said, adjusting his vest. “Time to deny everything to the rest of the team.”

Oh, fuck. You sighed. “Yeah…I forgot about that.”

[auras-moonstone]

Hi, I love your work so much!! How about some hockey player!ethan and figure skater!reader? Maybe some enemies to lovers? Have a great day<3

everything has changed — ethan landry

word count: 2,150

pairing: hockey player!ethan landry x figure skater!fem!reader

summary: as punishment for his suspension, ethan is forced to become y/n's skate partner for a few weeks

Y/N AND ETHAN STOOD STILL INSIDE THE OFFICE AS THE INFORMATION SINKED INTO THEIR BRAINS. Their coaches looked at each other, wanting to ran off the room as to not deal with the eventual fury that would come from the teenagers that everyone knew despised each other.

"No fucking way!" Y/N finally exclaimed, harshly, as Ethan said at the same time, "I'd rather tore my ACL."

The boy's sentence earned him a glare from his coach. "Don't even joke about it, Landry."

"Y/N, it’s the only option. Unless you have someone else in mind who can replace James."

The girl’s shoulders slumped—she didn't, and as much as she didn't like Ethan, he was kind of perfect for the part. He skated flawlessly and he lifted weights twice as heavy as the girl, so he would have no problem lifting her for the tricks. But there was this tiny detail—Ethan Landry was the most infuriating, annoying and self-centered guy in the whole university. And now she needed him, which made him even more frustrating.

Y/N's skating partner broke his arm and the competition was five weeks away, and if she wanted to compete, she had to push her hatred aside for a few weeks.

"And I wasn't asking you, Landry. It is an order. Consider it your punishment, learn to be professional." his coach said in a determined tone.

Ethan sighed and covered his face with his hands. He had been suspended from hockey for three games after beating the opposite team's defense player almost into oblivion. The ice had been tainted scarlet and his knuckles still hurt, even he knew he had crossed a line. But after the player said the nastiest of things about his family, he couldn't think straight. And here he was now, forced to become a figure skater for three weeks with the girl he loathed the most in the world.

"After you, my love." Ethan said in a sour voice, holding the door of the office open for her. He had a smile so false that Y/N was tempted to slap it off his unfairly pretty face. He loved pushing her buttons, so when he saw her face of annoyance he wanted to infuriate her even more. Y/N rolled her eyes and walked out the room, with the tall boy on her tail. "Wow, no ‘Thank you, Ethan! You're a real gentleman’?"

"Must have been hard not being an asshole for a whole second, right? It didn't give you an aneurysm?" she matched his false smile.

"No, but working with you for sure will." Ethan retorted. "On a positive note, I'll get to see you in sexy leotards."

"Pig" she muttered under her breath. "And I'll get to see you on leggings."

Ethan stopped walking and inspected her face, looking for any signs that told him she was joking "Wait, what?"

She smirked, enjoying the moment. "That's what figure skaters wear, genius."

"I won't wear that."

"Yes, you will, pretty boy. Don’t be a baby about it.” she said, and he flipped her off. He hated her so much. “See you tomorrow."

“Unfortunately.” he said loud enough for her to hear. She rolled her eyes as she walked away, she hated him so much.

THEY HAVEN'T EVEN GOT INTO THE ICE RINK AND ETHAN HAD ALREADY PISSED Y/N OFF. He had been inside the locker room for fifteen minutes now, and didn't want to step out. Y/N was two seconds away from kicking the door down.

"Landry get your ass out of that room right now! We are wasting our time!" she banged on the door furiously.

"You don't understand! I can't wear this, Y/L/N." Ethan yelled.

"Every skate figure wears leggings, Landry. There is nothing to be ashamed of."

"Yes, there is. This leggings are too tight, Y/N. Too tight."

Y/N sighed. "Let me see."

"No way!"

"Stop testing my patience, Landry. Let me see or I'll go in."

A few seconds later, she heard the turn of the handle and the door flew open. The air got stuck on her throat and a strangled sound left her mouth. The rumours going around the university were true, she couldn’t help thinking.

"Holy mother of God" she said loudly, gaze fixed on the problem. "That's too tight"

"That's what I've been saying for the past fifteen minutes!" he yelled frustrated.

"I thought you were exaggerating."

"Are you talking to me or my dick?" Ethan frowned, seeing how she wasn't looking at his face, gaze fixed on his huge bulge.

Y/N was brought back from the shock and finally looked away. "I'm so sorry! That was not okay of me, it's just... shocking."

"That I have a big dick? Ouch, I'm wounded."

"No! I mean- not that I ever thought about it. But I didn't expect I would ever find out" she couldn't have been blushing more. As much as she hated him, she wasn't stupid. Ethan Landry was the most attractive boy on college.

"Whatever. What am I going to do? I can't practice like this."

"Just put your gym shorts above the leggings. And hurry up."

She turned around to leave when he called her name. "I'll never get tired of seeing you in a leotard" Ethan winked at her before closing the door of the locker room.

What was his obsession with leotards? Y/N asked herself as she rolled her eyes. And as she made her way to the ice rink, she tried to ignore the fact that her whole body had turned warm after his words.

While putting his skates on, Ethan watched Y/N going over the routine. There were very scarce the times where he saw her without a scowl on her face or firing insults at him, and that was only when she was on the ice. Her face glowed and she was completely hypnotic. She moved around so flawlessly and elegantly that it was impossible to look away from her, you could tell that she truly loved being on ice. As much as he disliked her, Ethan couldn't deny that Y/N was beyond professional and one of the best skaters he had ever seen.

“Are you ready?” Y/N asked him, sliding towards the edge of the rink. Ethan got out of his daze and nodded. “Okay, so obviously this is not the same as hockey, but I’ve seen your moves and I don’t think you’ll have problems doing this routine. But if you don’t understand something, speak up and we’ll work on it.”

Ethan nodded. “Wait, what do you mean you have seen my moves?” he asked as they got into position.

“I’m a huge hockey fan, and I don’t miss any of Blackmore’s matches. So yeah, I’ve seen you play countless times.”

“Am I your favourite player?” he asked with a smirk.

“Let’s get to work.” she rolled her eyes. But the answer, even though she would never ever say it, was yes. And he knew it.

Objectively speaking, of course, Ethan Landry was the best hockey player Blackmore had. Probably better than the rest of the New York’s university players. On the ice, he was a force to be reckoned with and he was a hard-worker, he cared for his team and for the sport. He was a true captain. And that’s exactly why it shocked her to the core the way he had reacted on that final match.

“That’s a yes, I know it.” he smiled widely, making her sigh. He wasn’t making fun of her anymore, he was genuinely happy by it. And then a frown appeared on his face. “I hope I still am, even after what happened.”

The vulnerability in his voice melted Y/N’s walls. “You still are. You are not the first player to get suspended, and you won’t be the last. It has nothing to do with your skills or your commitment to the sport.”

“That’s not what coach says” he laughed dryly.

“Coach is furious because he lost his best player, but he doesn’t mean it. Everyone in this university knows how serious you are about hockey, okay? Don’t doubt yourself over one wrong action.”

They smiled at each other, for the first time ever, with sincerity. But then he ruin it with his smugness “Do you want my autograph?”

Y/N pushed him away playfully “You’re such an asshole”

“Oh sorry, would you prefer if I gave you my jersey?” Ethan sent her a teasing glance.

“I’d prefer if you shut up and start warming up.”

“Anything for my number one fan.” he winked at her and she almost melted. God, was he charming—annoying, but charming nonetheless.

“I despise you.”

But there wasn’t any hatred reflected on those words anymore. That day, they entered the rink expecting practice to be dreadful and filled with insults. They left laughing and hoping the next day would arrive quickly, because they had actually enjoyed it. There had been insults thrown, but they were the playful kind, insults that weren’t meant to hurt the other. Everything had changed that day for them.

Y/N HAD ALWAYS ENJOYED SKATING AND COMPETING, BUT DOING IT WITH ETHAN MADE IT EVEN BETTER. It’s ironic, when her coach told her he was to be James’ replacement, she thought it would be the worst thing ever. But now, that the three weeks were over, she knew she was going to miss him.

“So, that’s it, then.” Ethan spoke up as they left the arena. Today had been their last practice together, as James had already recovered and Ethan’s suspension had ended.

“That’s it.” she nodded. “It wasn’t half as bad as I’d imagined.”

“It wasn’t.” he agreed. His chest felt heavy, which was silly. It’s not like he wouldn’t see her again. They practiced the same days on the same place, and they even shared some classes. The truth was, he was scared it was the end of their newfound…friendship? God, no. Friendship wasn’t quite right, they had something more going on.

“Are you going to the competition?” she asked shyly, cheeks turning red.

God, she was so cute. It was hard to believe it was the same girl that was constantly bickering with him. “Do you want me to go?”

“I mean, I guess it’s kind of your routine too now, so I figure you’d like to see the outcome.” she said nervously.

Ethan took a step forward, so that she had to look up “That’s not what I asked. Do you want me to go?”

“Yes.” her tone was a bit unstable. His closeness made her insanely nervous, so she cleared her throat before replying again. “Yes. I want you to go. But no pressure, it’s okay if you don’t want to.”

“I’ll be there.” he assured her. “My game is on the same day, a few hours after your competition ends.”

“Oh, shit! That’s right. Maybe you shouldn’t come, you need to rest.”

Ethan shook his head. “I’ll be there.” he repeated. “But I want you to go to my game”

“I never miss one.” she said.

“Perfect. You know which number to use” he said, giving her a knowing look.

“Of course, I’ll wear Meeks’.” she teased.

Ethan clenched his jaw. “Use one that isn’t mine and see what happens.”

“You sound a bit mad there, Landry. You sound almost—” she stood on her tip toes, her mouth nearly touching his. “jealous.”

“You’re killing me here, Y/N/N.” his tone was pleading. He had never wanted to kiss someone so badly.

“What? You want me to kiss you?” her words left in a whisper and he could feel her breathy voice against his lips.

“I’ll give you three seconds to take a step back, if you don’t, I’ll kiss the hell out of you.” he warned her.

Y/N smiled. “One.” she set his hands on her waist. “Two.” then she wrapped hers around his neck. “Three.” she looked him in the eyes. “Still her-”

Ethan’s lips captured hers. The kiss was like their relationship—it started wild and aggressive and then it slowed down, becoming sweeter and softer but still holding an insanely amount of passion.

“You drive me crazy, did you know that?” Ethan laughed, pressing his forehead to hers. “In the most frustrating and loving way.”

“If a month ago someone told me I’ll be kissing Ethan Landry I would’ve laughed and then throw up in disgust. Now, there’s no other thing I’d rather be doing.”

“Aw, that was kinda sweet. You still have to work on your compliments, but you’ll get there.” he pressed kisses all over her face. “I’m so fucking glad I punched that guy.”

Y/N laughed. “I dare you to repeat that in front of coach.”

“I don’t have a death wish.”

“And you’re too pretty to die.” she pecked him on the lips. “Did I just make Ethan Landry blush?!”

“Shut up!” he laughed in such an adorable way that Y/N was surprised she didn’t melt in the spot. “I really like you, Y/N.”

“I really like you too.”

[tofics]

Hi!! I was wondering if you could write something about dean reacting to you getting your 🍒's pierced or him even finding out that they have been. Totally totally okay if not LOVE your work 🫶

Eeeek, my first request ever!!! 🤩 For that alone I'm inclined to make this as perfect as possible, but due to post-holiday brain-rot I can make no promises about the actual quality of what I'm about to produce. 🙈 I immediately had two ideas when I read this, so you're getting both.

Version 1 is just funny, whereas version 2 has a slight bit of angst to it, still a funny ending though. Hope you enjoy! 🤗

Warnings: nipple piercings, bare titties, exposing your 🍒's in front of strangers (willingly), some bleeding, canon typical violence (monster death)

POV: Dean finds out you got your nips pierced.

Version 1 "Sam, don't! He could be the shapeshifter, for all we know!" Dean pulled his brother back by the jacket. "A - a what?" The man in front of you stammered, his eyes blown wide in fear. You quickly hushed him. "It's okay, just get in there!" You were convinced this guy wasn't the shapeshifter. You knew it in your gut, but you knew that explanation wouldn't fly with Dean.

The four of you quickly pressed into the small bathroom. Dean had his gun pointed at the guy's throat, who was nervously eyeing the weapon. "It's okay", you assured him in a hushed whisper. "We'll get you out of here. Just give him the spoon, Sam." You nodded at the younger Winchester, who in turn started prodding his jacket. One pocket, another, then a quiet curse.

"I must've dropped it!"

You glanced at Sam in disbelief. Dean grunted, though he didn't take his eyes off of the stranger.

"Now what?"

Sam shrugged. "I don't have anything else silver on me. Do you?"

"I got lots of silver bullets," Dean growled, still clearly convinced that the poor soul trapped in this bathroom with you was the monster you were looking for. The man yelped quietly.

"Not helpful, Dean," you hissed, but the hunter just grunted.

"You got any better ideas?"

Silence filled the air as all three of you pondered over your current predicament. Then a lightbulb went off in your brain.

"I do, actually."

With swift movements, you handed your gun over to Sam and then began pulling your sweater off.

"Uh - what are you doing?" Sam stared at you like you had lost your mind and even Dean was glancing over at you as you began peeling your top upwards.

"My nipple piercings are made of silver," you explained casually. Sam's eyes grew wide while a vein popped out on Dean's temple. The man you were trying to save looked like he was trying very hard to look anywhere but at you. "If Dean's bullets are the only other silver thing we got, then I don't see any other way than this. I'm not blowing some guy's brain out just to be on the safe side," you continued.

Your top went over your head, leaving you in nothing but your bra from the waist upwards. Sam's face had a funny color and Dean looked like he was about to have an aneurysm. His eyes briefly traveled down to your exposed cleavage, then quickly flicked back up to your face. "You can't be serious," Sam cut in.

"About my nipples being pierced or the piercings being silver?"

"About letting this guy touch you."

You brushed Sam's concern off with a tut. "Oh, hush. Don't be so prude. Now, go on," you said and undid the clasp of your bra with swift fingers.

Three loud inhales sounded as you revealed your boobs to the room. Sam's eyes immediately went towards the ceiling. The stranger briefly glanced at your tits with a pained expression before following suit with Sam, mumbling something about how surely, all of this just had to be a weird dream. Dean, however, took a good long look before a smile whisked across his lips.

"When'd you get this done?" He whispered with an appreciative tone.

"Couple of months ago," you replied, smiling back at him. "You like it?"

"Like it? Sweetheart, I-"

"Guys," Sam interrupted, eyes still glued to the ceiling.

"Right, right, sorry." You reached for the man's hand who jumped when your hand touched his. "Go on, dude. Just put a hand on it so we know you're good."

The guy made no move to do much of anything, so you gently lifted his hand to your chest until it made contact with one of your piercings. "Just a dream, just a dream," the man mumbled with his head still turned upwards and away from you. "Maybe I'm a shapeshifter too," Dean mumbled, his eyes on the man's hand pressed to your boob.

You grinned in reply. "See? He's good." The man's hand showed no signs of injury as you lifted it off of your chest again. "Now how about I get dressed again and we go find the actual son-of-a-bitch?"

Version 2 Sure, people warn against getting body alterations done under the influence of alcohol all the time. It's sort of an unwritten rule, the kind of common-sense one is just expected to have. But as booze tends to do, it prefers to link up with mischief instead. Common-sense is just so boring. Such a goody-two-shoes. The nay-sayer of all genius ideas. And clearly, that's what getting your nipples pierced is: a genius fucking idea.

At least so you thought last night while out and about with Jo. The two of you had teamed up in an effort to drink your shared sorrows away: you'd just come back from yet another hunt during which you'd felt belittled by Dean yet again, and Jo was in the midst of another heated fight with Elle about being allowed out for a hunt at all - again. Each dismissal had lit the fire of injustice within the both of you, and while your first few drinks were meant to quench the flames, they had the opposite effect, acting like fuel instead.

Soon, both you and Jo were slurring your respective rambles about your 'suppressors'.

"Just isn't fair." Jo slammed her fist down on the bar top, earning herself a quick glance from the bartender.

You shook your head woefully. "It isn't. They just don't see us. It's like we're invisible. Or babies. Invisible babies."

Jo pointed her finger at you. "Exactly! Invisible babies. But we're not! We're grown women, god dammit! Women! Would babies have boobs like that?" Her finger swayed from your face to your cleavage, followed diligently by the guy who sat two seats down from you. Your chin dropped to your chest as you glanced at your own boobs before meeting the eyes of the sleazy guy two seats over. A sluggish grin crawled over your lips. "Nice, aren't they?" A toothy grin appeared on the other patron's face. "Sure are, baby, sure are," he called back, causing you to look at Jo with triumph in your eyes. "See? He agrees too. No baby would have boobs like that."

Jo nodded, her head bobbing up and down in a wobbly fashion. "Cause he sees us. Not like my mom. Or Dean." She scowled, then downed another shot the bartender had dutifully lined up for you at your signal.

"We jus' gotta find a way to show 'em," you slurred. "Way to show how badass we are. Hmm." You nodded to yourself like you'd just said the most profound thing.

A moment of silence passed between you two girls before Jo's face suddenly lit up. "I got an idea."

As genius as it had seemed to you four shots in, the next morning, you weren't so sure anymore that piercing your nipples had been a genius move. It did look amazing (one glance in the mirror in the morning after waking up confused why your nips felt so damn sore had convinced you of that easily), but you still needed some convincing about the practicality of it as you got dressed and put on your clothes for the day. It proved as your first challenge: a bra was immediately out of the question after feeling how tight the material pressed against your sensitive and raw skin. You threw on a large, comfy t-shirt instead and paired it with an even larger sweater. Oversized clothes to the rescue.

As expected, your drinking spectacle of last night didn't go unnoticed by either of the boys. Sam's "Whoa, you look rough" got quickly followed up by a dry snort from Dean at the sight of you. "Jesus, you and Jo empty half a liquor store or something?" You only grumbled something unintelligible as a response while you fixed yourself some coffee from the small breakfast spread your motel offered.

While you nursed your coffee, Dean and Sam made a plan for the day. Their mission yesterday had been a bust - the empty factory had, in fact, not been the hiding place of the shapeshifter that the three of you were after, which left it still roaming about. You didn't partake in the planning process, partially due to your hangover, but mostly due to the fact that you were still hung up on your exclusion. For your own safety. Dean's reasoning had felt like a punch in the gut. Did he still not trust your abilities?

"Hey." You were pulled back to the present by fingers snapping in front of your face. "You with us?" Dean's eyes were searching your face as you zeroed back in on him. You grunt for a response had one of his brows raising, but he didn't comment on it, instead pulling you aside when the three of you headed out towards the parking lot.

"Are you okay?" You knew that look. Dean's scrutinizing gaze roamed over your face to look for the subtlest of clues. You'd made your protest heard loud and clear yesterday, and you read the subtext in his question with ease. Are we okay? You inhaled deeply as you stalled to answer. You were still upset with him, but you didn't have it in you to discuss his views on your involvement during hunts in your current state. Your head was pounding too much, and your nipples faintly felt like someone was holding a lighter to them. "Yeah. I'm okay," you responded with a sigh. Dean looked like he was about to object, clearly not buying your answer, but just then, Sam called out for the two of you.

Genius fucking idea. You gritted your teeth as you sprinted after the shapeshifter. Of course you'd end up in action the one day you didn't wear a bra. As if chasing supernatural beings wasn't challenging enough, you were now forced to awkwardly press your arms under your boobs for support as you ran down the damp alleyway. Because of your makeshift-bra, your gun was holstered between your hands right under your tits, aiming directly forward. It wasn't a safe way to run, nor a comfortable one, but you didn't have time to ponder either of those facts. The shapeshifter was getting away, and you couldn't let that happen.

You saw it turning a corner a couple hundred feet ahead of you and dashed after it, tits squeezed together in front of your chest like they were your main weapon and not your gun. The fabric of your shirt rubbed over your freshly pierced nips like sandpaper on wood and you had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep yourself focused on the monster chase instead of the pain.

When you skid around the corner, you found the shapeshifter trapped between yourself and Dean on the other end of the back alley. It's head spun back and forth between you and him like a trapped animal and for a moment, it felt like time had frozen. Your eyes briefly flicked over to Dean, whose brows were furrowed in concentration and determination, and he shook his head at you ever so slightly.

The flush of anger inside your belly was hot and instant, yet before you had time to react, a loud shriek echoed through the alleyway and the shapeshifter launched itself your way.

It all happened so quickly that you acted more out of instinct than on rational thought. The kicks and blows to your body barely registered before a gunshot rang through the air and the monster's lifeless body dropped to the ground in front of you.

You stared at it, panting. The adrenaline coursing through your veins felt like fire being pumped through your body. It took you a second to register Dean's voice through the ringing in your ears.

"Hey. Hey. You okay? Are you hurt?" Hands were gripping you by the shoulders and you were spun sideways. You blinked a couple of times as Dean came into focus in front of you, concern etched into every fine line on his face. "Talk to me," he urged as his eyes feverishly scanned you up and down. You shook your head faintly, still dazed. "I'm fine." You'd taken down the shapeshifter yourself. You'd done it. You'd kicked ass.

A slow smile spread on your face as the realization set in. You had taken down a shapeshifter all by yourself. In front of Dean, no less. Now he had to see you.

"We got it, Sammy. Yeah. It's done. Uh-huh. No, she took it out." Dean glanced over at you as the two of you walked back to his car. You were still smiling smugly ear to ear. Dean looked like he'd been forced to eat a lemon whole.

"What d'you think? Of course not." He growled into the phone. You could imagine Sam's question without having heard it. You let her come? Dean had ordered you to stay in the car of course. But then you'd seen the shapeshifter run by. Who in their right mind would've stayed in their car at the sight?

"Uh-huh. Yeah. We'll meet you back at the motel." Dean hung up. Anger radiated off of him in quiet, shaky waves. Under any other circumstance, you would've been quaking in your boots right about now, wary of the storm that was about to come your way any second now. But not today. Today, you were flying high, fueled on by your win.

Dean settled into the driver's seat, but didn't start the car. Here we go, you thought. Speech incoming. Yet it didn't come. When you turned your head to look at him, you didn't find Dean staring you down, but frowning at your chest instead.

"You're bleeding."

Your own forehead crinkled up as you looked down on yourself. Two deep red spots were starting to bloom on your chest, right where... Crap.

You quickly slung an arm over your chest, covering up the two spots. "I, uh. It's fine." Though it felt anything but. You hadn't noticed it in the moment, but the monster had apparently struck you in the chest, right across your boobs. Your fresh piercings had seemingly not appreciated that move in the least. Now that you had been made aware of it, your nipples felt like they were on fire, pain striking through each boob like a spasm.

Dean's jaw tensed. In one swift move, he leaned in and plucked your arm from your chest, exposing the bloody spots on your sweater that were slowly growing in size. You could see his frown deepening as he examined your injuries. Warmth crept up your neck and into your cheeks.

"It's not fine. What did he do? I can't see puncture wounds. Why are you bleeding?"

Whatever triumph you had felt just a moment ago had ebbed away and was now being replaced by the icky sticky feeling of shame. You turned your head so he wouldn't see the embarrassment coloring you the same color as the spots on your sweater, but Dean spoke your name in a soft, yet stern voice.

You knew he wouldn't let this go.

You sighed deeply. "I got my nipples pierced." Your voice was barely above a murmur. Heat blazed from your cheeks and pain throbbed in your wounded nips.

For the first time ever since meeting Dean Winchester, he did not hit you with a quick comeback. The lack of a snarky reply was so jarring that you looked back at him, despite the embarrassment shining bright in your cheeks like Rudolph's nose.

Dean's face seemed to be frozen in a state somewhere between surprise and amusement. You stared at him for a moment before scoffing. "Just get it out." His eyes flickered from the bloody spots on your torso to your eyes and back, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Get what out?"

"The comments. Whatever you're dying to say. I know you've got some stupid shit already cooking in that brain of yours," you scoffed, and as if on cue, mischief glinted in his eyes.

"Actually," Dean started and flung a casual arm across your seat. "I think it's kind of hot."

The lack of reprimand caught you off guard so much that you could only stare at him.

"But I am gonna need details. Was it Jo's idea? Or yours?" Dean flashed a widespread grin at you and started the car. He was clearly enjoying himself.

You could only roll your eyes and groan.

"You know, I'll have to check when we're back. See how injured you are. Patch you up," he continued, the grin now stretching so wide that it almost went from ear to ear.

"Not a chance, Winchester."

Dean only snickered in return.

Divider credit: @saradika-graphics

[ffjj5]

Its been a while Jikookers, but let me tell you why...

Just a warning this post will talk about grief and death, so if you aren't in a place to want to read that right now please scroll past 💜

On October 11th my world changed and I am still working out how to be in it without my best friend. I have never felt loss and pain like I do right now but I am surrounded by amazing friends and family who will help me work this shit out. My beautiful friend of 20+ years died after a very short time in Neuro ICU following a burst brain aneurysm. No warning, just walking home from lunch with a friend on the 3rd October and she collapsed in the street, she never regained consciousness and died peacefully surrounded by her siblings, children and mum 8 days later on 11th October.

It's the little things I am struggling with, the coffee dates on my days off, the messages she would send just to say 'love you' and ask how your day was, the random phone calls because she was putting off gardening or housework, the messages to say have lovely trip the day before or after you went as she always got the date wrong, but she never forgot the important dates and would spend her last pound to get you a card to celebrate.

One of the reasons for me posting on here is because I want to recognise how being part of this fandom and being a Jikooker has had a profound impact on my grieving during this time. In life some people come along and impact on your life in a way they may never understand because you can't find the right words to tell them, but even from thousands of miles away their words bring you strength and comfort, a hug in the form of a voice message. Part of me working through this shitty grieving process has been to just say what is in my head into my phone and send the message to this person, with no expectation of a reply or words of wisdom, but she has never let me down. Even if its just to say 'keep going, it will get better', she has never allowed me to feel unheard.

So @dgtn please stand up and accept your virtual hug, until I can give you one in person 😊

A week ago we had a ceremony and celebration of life for my friend and it was beautiful, the sun shone, we cried, we laughed ( she loved to laugh and was always making us laugh) and I started on the next part of my grief journey, to learn to live without her but never forgetting her.

Everyday is a new day and some are harder than others, work is either a blessing of a distraction, or a curse, as my ability to deal with stress and the stupidity and pettiness of the general public is better some day then others. My work colleagues have been beyond amazing and the love and support they have given me has been beyond anything I could imagine. But I know my friend would be shouting at me to live my life now as it is too damn short and can be gone in an instant, so that is what I am doing. Next year is busy, first K-pop concert (Ateez, don't get me started on how excited I am), West end theatre show, and the icing on the cake is a trip to Niagara falls and NYC in March! Not to mention the impending BTS concert when that pesky military service is over for all our guys.

Music is an important part of my life and BTS' music has helped me massively, I have cried to it, I have sung my heart out to it, and I have sat in silence and just listened to it and taken comfort from their lyrics.

One song which has seen me do all three is Zero o clock, so what better way for me to sign off than with this...

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 21

part 1 | part 20 | ao3

“Right?” Steve asks, scratching his head as he glances back at the door. 

“No, I meant you, dingus! What the fuck was that with you?” 

Steve feels his face go hot. “What? What do you mean?” 

She throws her hands in the air, stomping over so she can get in his face and say, “Don’t ‘what do you mean’ me. Your faces” —she lifts her hands like she’s about to applaud, palms hovering an inch apart— “were like thiiis close to just…”

She claps them together, and Steve feels the blood drain right back out of his face, dread pooling in his gut as she twists her palms this way and that, like two people tilting their heads to kiss deeper. Oh, god. Oh, god. Were they—? 

“Mwah,” Robin says helpfully, mashing her hands more tightly together. “Mwah mwah mwah mwah—”  

Steve grabs her by the wrist. “Dude. Stop.” 

She drops her hands and stares at him — one of those Detective Buckley looks, combing over every inch of his soul for missed clues — and then her mouth does some horribly self-satisfied thing that he hates. “If I didn’t know any better,” she draws, “I’d say someone has a crush.” 

I’d say someone has a crush someone has a crush someone has a crush someone has a

Steve’s gonna pass out. The words feel like bile in his brain, acidic and sharp; like puking right after chugging a glass of orange juice. It’s not like he’s— 

Look, he knows that he’s— but—

The bell dings. Thank fucking Christ. A big family group, three generations of people talking and laughing and fussing over a baby in a stroller and carrying leftovers from the Italian place down the strip. 

Steve sags in relief. 

Robin hisses in his ear, “We are so not done talking about this.”

—

He doesn’t want to talk about it.

About Eddie, about the word Robin lobbed at him like a lit bottle rocket, about any of it.

Just thinking about it is giving him a stomach ulcer and a migraine and maybe an aneurysm, too. 

He was hoping he made that obvious enough during the last hour of their shift that Robin would just drop it, but that girl has never dropped a single thing in her life. Worse than Nancy, the little bloodhound. Steve saw this documentary once about crocodiles; remembers how they can lock their jaws shut after clamping down on their prey with up to 4000 PSI of pressure. 

That’s enough pressure to cut a person’s arm off with a jet of water. 

Damn, nature’s cool.

“Steve!” 

You know who’s not cool? 

“Steve!” Robin hollers again over the song he’s currently blasting to drown her out on the drive home. “Steve, you can’t use ABBA against me like this!”

Steve ignores her protests, responds by shout-singing “DIGGING THE DANCING QUEEN, OOH OOOOOH” at her in his most nasal falsetto because he absolutely can and will use ABBA against her like this, and it works like a charm. He’s pretty sure this song has, like, hypnotic power over her or something, because every time without fail she gives the answering “ooh-oo-oo-ooh-ooh-oooooh” as if on auto-pilot.

“HEY!” she shouts when she realizes what she’s doing. “No sir!” She reaches over and mashes the volume button. 

Silence falls over the car. Sucks the air out of Steve’s lungs in the sudden void; his ears adjust slowly, picking up the quiet thrum of the engine, the whispered whoosh of the wind outside. Is he ever going to get used to being kind-of-sort-of-deaf? This shit sucks.

“...Okay, look,” Robin says tentatively. She’s staring at the side of his head, and he keeps his eyes on the road; tightens his grip on the wheel. “We don’t have to talk about you, okay?”

“There’s nothing to talk about with me.”

“Right!” she rushes to agree. Playing along like they don’t both know that’s bullshit. “Totally.”

Steve risks a glance at her. Her expression is earnest, some full-paragraph silent communication like: whatever bathroom-floor-confessional crisis you’re having, we can leave it alone for now. We can let it stay hidden in the dark corners for a little longer; I promise I’ll put my flashlight down. 

“Totally,” Steve echoes, nodding at her. 

“Okay. Cool. Cool…”

She lets out a long breath, cheeks puffing out as she sits on her hands. Oh, my god, just spit it out. “Can we please talk about him, though?”

—

part 22

tag list pt. 1 below the cut, comment if you want me to tag you tomorrow (heads up i'm not tagging any new under 21 or ageless blogs unless we’re mutuals or you dm me to verify your age. gonna purge this list when i get some free time)

@heartsong18 @hellion-child @hiimlevi @hotluncheddie @jackiemonroe5512 @jaytriesstuff @littlebluejane @lololol-1234 @marklee-blackmore @melonmochi @messrs-weasley @mrsjellymunson @mugloversonly @nburkhardt @nerdyglassescheeseychick @noodle-shenaniganery @notsopersonalcharlie @novelnovella @nuggies4life @pending-dope-username @perseus-notjackson @ppunkpuppyy @questionablequeeries @remosdeerica @runninriot @sadcanadianwinter @shamelesspatrolshepherdcowboy @silver-snaffles @singmeyoursimpsong @slowandsteddie @slutforcoffein @solalasoforth @spookednsaucy @steddieas-shegoes @steddie-island @stevesbipanic @steves-strapcollection @taleah-bonnick @teatimeeverybody @th30ra3k3n @thealwithnoname @thespaceantwhowrites @thestarslittleking @thesuninyaface @trensu @violetsteve @wormdebut @yourmom-isgay @zoeweee @zombiecreatures

[tokyo-debunker-idk]

A Song of Ice and Aneurysm | 01

Summary: Jin Kamurai might be feared and respected as the wintery King of Frostheim, but even he is no match for a cursed honor student denser than any iceberg known to mankind.

Pairing: Kamurai Jin x Reader

Genre: Humor, romantic comedy, fluff, Jin struggling to emote, eventual smut, COMPLETE

18+, minors DNI

~~~~~

Jin: You better have a good fucking explanation, peasant

You gulp when you read the text sent by Frostheim’s haughty, commanding, somewhat terrifying Captain. It's barely been an hour since you've returned to solid ground from the terrifying foray into the sea, and part of you wants to dive right back in to avoid whatever confrontation Jin is expecting. You should have known that with your horrendous luck, something would go wrong during your mission with the Jabberwock ghouls.

Being taken to an illusory sunken ship in the guise of an undersea palace on the back of a talking turtle that ended up being progeny of a terrifying anomaly probably wouldn't have been your first guess, but being MIA for an unfortunate amount of time shouldn't have been outside the realm of expectation.

And, given the trend of everything in your life going atrociously, perhaps you should have considered the consequences of asking the Captain of the most prestigious house in Darkwick for such a huge favor, on such short notice.

Not only had he agreed and provided you with a boat (yacht, nearly) with only a day of turn-around time, but he had even staffed the craft with employees that had likely panicked upon your disappearance beneath the waves.

It wasn't exactly your fault that Towa had so impulsively leapt off the literal deep end, or that a strange wave had knocked you into the water after him. But then again, none of the disasters that have happened to you have been directly your control. You could have at least tried to prepare, or figured out a way to send communications, or had some sort of contingency plan. At this point, you should know better.

But alas, you are twice (Thrice? Ten times, at this point? Too many, definitely) the fool for being caught with your metaphorical pants down again.

You know that ignoring the text or giving feeble excuses will only piss Jin off further, so with a sigh you begin trotting towards the Frostheim dormitory, dread weighing down every footstep.

Well, at least you'll get to admire his perfect cheekbones while he yells at you.

~~~~~

"Why would I give a fuck about the boat?"

For some reason, Jin looks even more pissed than when you entered, and you feel your apprehension beginning to unravel into panic. Had you fucked something else up you can't even remember? At this rate you're going to be laundering the Captain's shirts until your curse kills you.

Though then you might be able to snag a couple for sleeping. Your premeditation of possible theft is only due to the fact that the material is the most luxurious your broke ass has ever felt, and that Jin's rich enough not to notice.

It's definitely not because his cologne smells masculine and delicious. That would be creepy.

Jin heaves an exasperated sigh, and your thoughts wander back to the reason you're currently here, at his mercy. Well, what you thought that was the reason. Now you are at a loss.

As if reading your confusion, he scowls and elaborates.

"I can always find another boat. Other things aren't so easily replaced."

Agonizing seconds pass as you wrack your brain for whatever could be so important that the Jin Kamurai, corporate heir, would have trouble replacing it. And then, finally, you get it.

Your sudden comprehension must show on your face, because his own relaxes. Thank goodness, too, because while Jin is gorgeous when he's angry, he's downright ethereal when he's not.

"Oh," you breathe, giving him a smile of understanding. "Don't worry, that dress you sent me is safe and sound in my dorm!"

Considering his background and the exquisite gowns of the other Frostheim ladies at the ball, it must have been very expensive, perhaps hand-made and thus more valuable than a factory-made vessel. You can't imagine it having sentimental value to him. To you, however, the lovely dress is not only a symbol of your first completed mission, but an indicator that some here accept you. You stomp down the hopeful part of your heart that wishes it was more than just mere acceptance, because that would be too unrealistic, too greedy.

The safety of the dress also does not seem to be the cause of his ire, however, because his expression is now so blank it's actually scarier than his anger. Deathly silence stronger than any anomalous sound-proofing begins to permeate the room as the regal ghoul stares at you, and you begin to sweat in spite of the cold. Perhaps he's upset that it's still in your possession?

You immediately feel like an idiot for not seeing it sooner. Of course it hadn't been a gift for you to keep, but rather, a loan.

It's obvious in hindsight – he needed to show that he was still the powerful man in charge of Frostheim, and you were a conveniently neutral party he could dance with to draw more eyes.

The realization stings a little more than you thought, and not for the first time you curse yourself for developing an attraction to someone so clearly out of your league. Thank god you've never let it show, soothing your pride if not your emotions.

"I-I can return it now, if you need it back!"

Your voice cracks a little, but you're otherwise able to keep your tone stable. You're a big girl, you can take a hint. It's pointless to feel an attachment to something that was never yours to begin with.

The offer does not appear to soothe the beast before you, however, because frosty silence emanates from Jin in ominous waves. You wonder if it might have been a good idea to write your will before your mission.

"Er, of course I'd have it dry cleaned first…?"

A muscle twitches in his (very well-defined) jaw, and you begin to pray.

~~~~~

Tohma Ishibashi is having what might be the best day of his entire life.

He watches silently as the illustrious, dauntless, emotionally constipated Captain of Frostheim malfunctions in the face of guileless misunderstanding. Is it really that difficult for the man to simply tell you he was worried?

You glance backwards to meet his gaze, and your own holds so much terror at Jin's oppressive silence that Tohma clears his throat to suppress a laugh.

"I believe, Y/N," the Vice Captain interjects, regretting the need to break the magnificently suffocating atmosphere, "that our Captain means that there are certain members of our house who would have been most upset had anything happened to you."

Tohma had almost decided not to interfere, because the Jin Kamurai's wordless suffering due to his own inability to communicate is a delicious treat. But all good things must come to an end, and prolonging such an entertaining scene would only take away the sweetness of the memory.

And that bashful smile of yours, surprised and a little bit grateful at the understanding that you are important to them, is worth it all on its own.

~~~~~

Jin doesn't know who to kill first. You, Tohma, or himself.

Not only have the meaning of his words flown over your head despite him practically announcing that he's grown rather fond of you, but the twitch of Tohma's lips shows that the Vice-Captain is enjoying this situation entirely too much.

He almost forgives his second when the bespectacled asshole finally deigns to clarify the situation, because your smile is warm enough to thaw the angry chill that's coated his heart.

"Ah, I see… I'm so sorry I didn't realize," you murmur, looking contrite and a little embarrassed. That's more fucking like it.

You had fucking disappeared, into the fucking ocean where humans famously cannot breathe, where there was a monster tearing fish and other anomalies apart. You were in danger, alone but for the Jabberwock rabble, and Jin was stuck here with no idea where you were and no way to get to you.

You should be sorry for making him wonder if he'll ever see your stupid ass again.

So many social climbers are willing to read far too much into a single look, a moment of eye-contact, one mere hello. He's shown you far too much favor already, even if part of it can be written off as repayment for giving him the ability to use his stigma again.

Why the fuck would he want the dress back? Do you think he wants to fucking wear it? He got it for you, tailored to your size based on the measurements in Darkwick's records. He doesn't remember what they are because they were only important to ensure the gown suited you perfectly.

You're an idiot. An irritating mixture of meek and headstrong. Someone who will take stupid menial duties from him without (much) complaint, like a doormat, but then the same day will also investigate paranormal murder with no promise of safety other than what others can give you. You're an open book, easy to read and impossible to understand.

You have grown on him, a sneaky tumor whose cells now circulate through his veins and invade his thoughts. Do you really think that just anyone has his contact information? Or has the privilege to be allowed to call him? And on top of that, be able ask for a fucking favor without immediately being blocked?

You needed a boat, so he got you a fucking boat. A big one. If one day you need the moon, he will find a fucking rocket. And eventually, he'll catch the damn flower that cursed you.

It is ridiculous that it's taken Tohma practically spelling it out for you to realize–

"I didn't know Kaito and Luca would be so worried about me that it would impact you."

You can not be fucking serious. Something dies inside of Jin, and he thinks it might be his sanity.

"It's really sweet of them, I never thought anyone would care enough about me to notice I was gone, but still. They're adults, and they need to understand the reality of my situation and their own responsibilities."

First, he's going to murder you for being this fucking stupid. Then, he is going to off the first-year brats because you think they're sweet. Next on the list will be Tohma, who has just let out what, from any less refined individual, would be classified as a snort.

And then he's going to kill every fucker at Jabberwock for putting you in danger in the first place.

"Shut the fuck up."

~~~~~

This is not going well.

In fact, if you were still on the boat Jin apparently does not care about, you would say it is currently sinking. And, true to form, you have no lifeboats prepared.

"Get out."

Ah, but one has been fortuitously offered to you, and with immense relief you turn to escape.

"Not you. Him."

You knew it was too good to be true, yet you still give Tohma a pleading glance as he bows gracefully. He meets your eyes with a calm smile. Then, like the cold bastard he is, leaves you to your doom without a backwards glance.

The heavy doors close behind him with an ominous thud, and you eye Jin nervously. His threats from your first meeting echo in your head like an alarm.

"My room has anomalous soundproofing. You can scream and cry all you like. No one's gonna hear you."

Oh god. You're fucked. You're so, so fucked.

"Come here."

Jin can't use his stigma without you, and yet you find yourself obeying, his commanding tone impossible to resist. Your legs move until you're standing before him.

Even though he is lounging on his luxurious couch and you're on your feet, he still manages to look down on you. His icy blue eyes pierce into your own, and despite the nervous thrum of your chest alerting you to danger, you're unable to look away. You've never been able to stare back at him so blatantly.

Somehow, the longer you look, the more beautiful he becomes.

You're close enough to catch hints of his cologne, and it clouds your senses as if beckoning you forward. You dazedly wonder if you should be admiring your potential murderer. But it's not your fault that he has such full lips, or beautiful silvery hair that looks perfect for running your fingers through.

It's not fair for that to be all you can think about when you're this close to evisceration.

"You're a fucking idiot."

His blunt words slice through the confused haze in your mind, and indignation restores your self-awareness.

"Excuse me? That is so ru–eep!"

He grabs your wrist to tug you closer, and you let out an embarrassingly inelegant noise as you lose your balance. And perhaps your grasp on reality, because you have somehow tumbled into Jin Kamurai's lap, practically straddling him.

No, you've definitely lost your sanity, because instead of pushing you away or lopping off your head for your transgression, your body seems to believe that one of his hands is resting on your hip, and the other is brushing hair out of your face. Perhaps you have already died, and this is actually heaven. You must have done enough good in the world to outweigh all the tampons you flushed down the toilet in the past.

Jin's thumb trails gently over your cheek, and you automatically lean into his warmth. He's normally so harsh with his words, aloof in a way that shuts others out with thick walls of ice. Yet that hidden, secret side of him is evident in the softness of his touch.

"J-Jin," your voice quivers, a whisper because for some reason it feels like you shouldn't speak any louder. If against all odds, this actually is reality, you don't want to break whatever spell is being woven around you. You don't want this gentle moment to ever end.

There's something you don't understand in those mesmerizing eyes, and his pretty, pretty lips of his curve into what, for Jin, is a smile. It spills into your chest like sunlight through the clouds, and for a moment you wonder why you were ever scared.

"Bianerus."

~~~~~

Part 2

[vigilante-3073]

Ultraviolence

Logan Howlett x Female Mutant Reader

PART 2

Summary: Logan goes into the past to stop Raven from killing Boliver Trask. He knows that he is going to require the assistance of Charles and Eric. Will he be thrown off course when he encounters a familiar face at Xavier's School For Gifted Youngsters?

TW: Toxic relationships, manipulation, abuse of powers, time travel, mentions of blood.

An awkward silence had settled in Xavier's mansion after Y/N retreated to her bedroom. Charles made his way into the study as Hank turned to Logan, "Y/N can't control her mutation. If she used her powers on you, your mind would fracture... It would be like detonating a bomb in your skull," Hank said.

"How long has she been struggling to control it?" Logan questioned.

Hank exhaled, scratching the back of his neck, "Since I've known her... She had a better grasp on it before, but then with what happened to her mother, she just let it overwhelm her," Hank said.

"What happened to her mother?" Logan asked.

"I-it's really not my place to say," Hank said.

"Well, make it your place," Logan pressed, turning to face him.

Hank sighed and shifted uncomfortably on his feet, "She was having a nightmare and she lashed out with her powers. Her mother had come in to check on her and she died. Autopsy showed over thirty aneurysms in her brain," Hank said.

"Guessing that it didn't go down well with the rest of her family?" Logan questioned.

"No, her father blamed her and the rest of the family turned on her. She was on her own until Charles found her with Cerebro. I think the death of her mother made her realize how powerful she really was and it scared her... She hasn't used her powers since then," Hank said.

"Not once?" Logan asked.

"No, Charles tried to encourage her, but she refused every time," Hank said.

"I have someone who might be able to help us get to Erik. But we're gonna need Y/N or Charles either way," Logan said.

"Logan-," Hank started.

"I'm gonna talk to her, I know I can get through to her," Logan stated.

"Good luck," Hank muttered before making his way up the stairs.

...

Logan knocked on the door to Y/N's bedroom, he had absolutely no idea of what he was going to say to her, but he had to say something.

Y/N opened the door, "What do you want from me, asshole?" Y/N questioned.

"Look, I'm sorry for coming on so strong. You and I have a rocky relationship where I'm from and I just assumed that you were the same person," Logan said.

"I'm not the same person?" Y/N questioned.

"No, you're scared," Logan said.

Y/N scowled, moving to close the door, Logan wedged his foot in the doorway. Y/N huffed, "Move the foot before I break it," She snapped.

"Being scared isn't a bad thing, kid. It's just different from the version of you that I know, but I can help you," Logan said.

"No one can help me," Y/N stated. The finality in her tone made it obvious to Logan that she wasn't going to make it easy for him. Y/N had always been an immovable object, but he was unstoppable force and he didn't plan on giving up anytime soon.

"I know you and I know what you can do... You're one of the most powerful people I've ever met and I trust you with that power," Logan said.

"You trust me?" Y/N asked.

"With my life," Logan stated.

She stared at him for a moment before she narrowed her eyes, "You're full of shit," She said.

"Didn't need your powers for that one, huh?" Logan questioned.

"What are we to each other where you come from?" Y/N asked, irritation creeping into her voice.

"I don't know... I care about you, but I hate you more than anyone I've ever met," Logan said.

"Sounds like a match made in heaven," Y/N deadpanned. She moved away from the door and Logan stepped into her bedroom, closing the door behind himself.

"We are," Logan stated.

"How exactly do you think you can help me, Logan?" She asked.

"I'll be your crash test dummy. You've been playing around in my head for years because you knew that I could take it," Logan said.

"I'd kill you," Y/N said.

"I can heal," Logan replied.

"Why do you care if I have my powers or not?" Y/N asked, beginning to become exasperated with the conversation.

"Because we're gonna need 'em," Logan stated, holding his hand out.

"You can't be serious," Y/N said, looking between him and his outstretched hand incredulously.

"I am... Just try and be gentle, alright?" Logan said, shifting on his feet.

"Try and be gentle?" Y/N asked.

"Yeah, light like a feather, don't hit me like a semi... C'mon, you got this," Logan said.

Y/N warily held out her hand, the tip of her pointer finger barely making contact with his before a zap of her power surged through him.

It ran through his body like a lightning bolt, bringing him to his knees in front of her with a ragged gasp. He felt the connection to his future body quake with the force. Logan hoped that Kat would be able to hold onto him despite Y/N's interference.

Y/N quickly pulled her hand back to her chest, "I can't do this," Y/N stated.

"Yeah, you can. Go again, don't be scared of it," Logan said, holding out his hand again from his place on the floor.

"Are you crazy? I'm gonna kill you," Y/N snapped.

"Not dead yet," Logan said.

"My god, men are stupid. You're sticking your hand in a wasp nest and wondering why you're getting stung," Y/N muttered.

"Yeah, yeah, go again," Logan said, waving his hand around impatiently.

Y/N huffed, stepping closer to him and reaching out her hand. She hesitated before making contact, "Can you try to focus on something? Just one thing to keep me from going off course," Y/N asked, Logan nodded.

Y/N took a breath, "Hey, trust yourself. If you're scared of what you can do, you'll turn my brain to oatmeal. You control it, it doesn't control you," Logan instructed.

Y/N reached out, her fingers touching his gently as her power spread through him. This time it was different, it was warm and the energy probed at the edge of his mind before slowly sinking in. She was careful and focused, not quite wielding her power to the extent that Logan had experienced before.

Logan's eyes glowed purple as she looked into his thoughts, brow furrowing as she saw the memory he had chosen.

"Zip me up, would you?" Y/N asked. Logan moved up behind her, shirtless and wearing a pair of faded jeans. His fingers found the zipper of her dress, dragging it up her back before pressing his lips to the side of her neck.

"You look pretty," He stated, hands settling on her hips.

"Do I?" Y/N questioned coyly, staring up at him in the mirror.

"Course you do," Logan said.

Y/N rested her hand over his, her power rushing through him and invading his mind. He pulled away quickly, "I hate it when you do that," He snapped.

"Is there something that you don't want me to see?" Y/N asked.

Logan huffed, "I just don't want you rooting around in my head all the time, is that too much to ask?" Logan questioned.

"With me? Yes," Y/N said.

Logan shook his head, "My thoughts aren't meant to be your personal playground, Y/N. Lately, I don't even know if my thoughts are mine or shit you planted there," Logan said.

"You think I'm capable of that?" Y/N asked.

"That and more. You want this, you want me, so badly that you're forcing two pieces of a puzzle together that don't fit," Logan said.

"Stop," Y/N commanded.

Logan's body relaxed, the tension leaving his muscles as he stared at her. He was still angry, seething even, but he felt like he had been locked in a box. Logan was trapped in his own mind and he couldn't escape no matter how hard he fought.

"Tell me you love me and we can move on from this," Y/N said.

"I love you," Logan stated.

"Good," Y/N nodded, turning back to her mirror.

Y/N pulled her hand back from Logan's, a confused look on her face as she stared down at him. Logan stood up, "What was that?" Y/N asked.

"That was us," Logan said.

"I treated you like that?" Y/N questioned.

"Yeah," Logan nodded.

"I'm sorry," Y/N said.

"So am I, but I needed you to see it," Logan said.

"Why?" Y/N asked.

"Because you can change our future... I care about you, but I never got a chance to know you. You knew everything you could possibly know about me, but you went through my thoughts to learn it... I know we have bigger fish to fry right now, but I needed you to understand what you grow up to be, alright?" Logan said.

Y/N nodded, "Well, this is shitty timing, but can I go through your memories to see what we're up against?" She asked, holding up her hand.

"Go for it," Logan said.

Her hand rested on his chest, power sinking into him and travelling up to his head. His eyes glowed as she looked through his memories, leafing through them like pages of a book before she began to follow a thread.

...

Kat grimaced, "There's something pushing back against me. I-I don't know what it is," She said, a panicked tone in her voice.

Y/N stepped forward quickly, hand resting on Kat's shoulder before her power invaded the girl's mind. She closed her eyes for a moment before they opened again, glowing bright purple as she tried to protect the connection.

"What's happening?" Erik asked.

"Logan got through to Y/N. She is using her powers again," Charles said.

Y/N suddenly saw herself in the past, "Charles, what do I do?" She asked.

"Talk to her," He instructed.

"I don't- I can't do this," Y/N said.

"Yes, you can," Charles assured.

"I'm not the person she needs to hear from right now, Professor," Y/N said.

"You are the only one she needs to hear from," Charles stated.

Y/N shifted uncomfortably before pressing forward into their connection, "Our best chance at survival hinges on Y/N being able to get along with another person... Anyone else not feeling great about our chances?" Bobby questioned.

"She'll be fine," Charles assured.

Y/N closed her eyes, seeing herself standing with Logan in her room at Xavier's School, "How much did he show you?" Y/N questioned, her past self turned to face her.

"He showed me what I needed to see," The past version of Y/N said.

"There are a lot of things that happened in my life between then and now. Things that-," "That made you a monster?" Past Y/N questioned.

Y/N huffed, "Listen, kid, things are falling apart here and we need you to help us fix things," She stated.

"Did you love Logan?" Y/N from the past asked.

Y/N hesitated, "That isn't what we need to be talking about right now," She said.

"It's what I want to talk about. I don't have any skin in the game at this point and probably won't for at least fifty years," Past Y/N said.

Y/N huffed, "Little bitch," She muttered.

"Well? Did you love him?" Y/N from the past questioned.

Y/N looked over at Logan, "I did love him, but he left," She said simply.

Past Y/N shook her head, "That's not what happened... You forced him away," She said.

Y/N took a shaky breath, "Stop," She muttered.

"He hates you. I can feel it. Logan hates you, but he can't let you go because you forced your way into his life. You planted thoughts in his head and locked him away when he fought back. You're like a parasite," Past Y/N stated with disgust.

"Stop it," Y/N repeated, barely containing her rage. Purple tendrils of power spread out around her, singeing the floor and walls.

Kat shifted, "I'm losing him," She mumbled, struggling to maintain the connection despite Y/N's power striking back against it.

"She's going to get them both killed," Bobby said.

"Give her a chance," Charles advised.

Y/N took a breath, steadying herself and reigning in her power, "Fine, I fucked up his life. I loved him and I trapped him because I knew he wouldn't stay. Then he left without a word and proved me right," Y/N stated.

"He would have stayed if you gave him a choice... You saw everything that I have and you know I'm right," Past Y/N said.

"What do you want from me?" Y/N asked.

"I want to know what happened to us. What made me turn into this?" Past Y/N asked, gesturing to Y/N.

"Too much," She stated.

"I'm sorry," Past Y/N said.

"Logan needs your help, if you pull this off, I won't exist and your life can take a different direction... For your sake, I hope it does," Y/N said, glancing over at Logan.

"I'll help him," Past Y/N said.

Y/N nodded, slipping back through the connection and opening her eyes to find Charles by her side. Blood dripped from her nose and ears, body utterly exhausted from the strain of maintaining the connection for so long.

"Were you able to speak to her?" Charles asked, Y/N nodded.

Her knees gave out, sending her dropping down to the dusty ground below. Y/N slumped against the table, breathing heavily as she tried to regain her strength.

"Are you alright?" Charles asked, she nodded.

"She's going to help him," Y/N mumbled.

"Then we might stand a chance," Erik stated.

[bullet-prooflove]

Snow, hot chocolate, blankets

Tagging: @kmc1989 @kcloveswrestling

Learn more about John & Lou's affair here

See Kayce meet Joe here:

The Fifth Man - After reading through Lee’s journals Kayce realises he has another brother.

It’s snowing outside, huge white flakes drift past the glass as Jamie sits by the window, staring out across the land. He doesn’t want to be there right now, on his father’s ranch, planning his funeral. He wants to be at home with you and Opal, tucked under a blanket, sipping a hot chocolate.

In the background he can hear Beth’s voice carrying through from the lounge as she argues with someone on the phone about the service. He tilts his head up when Kayce approaches him. There’s a mug of coffee in his hand which he sets on the table alongside Jamie before he takes a seat.

“Do you believe that he died from a broken heart?” Jamie finds himself asking his brother as he wraps his hand around the mug, warming it.

Kayce takes off his hat and sets it down on the table before he runs his hand through his hair.

“Yea.” He says quietly. “From what I read in Lee’s journals… he’d been in love with Lou for a long time before she passed.”

This whole thing about Lou Reeves and his father, it’s a complete revelation to Jamie. When Kayce had turned up on his doorstep to give him the news of the death and the circumstances surrounding it, it had been a lot to unpack.

They’d found John Dutton dead in his bed, alongside Lou Reeves. Both of them had died in their sleep. According to her son Joseph, Lou had been diagnosed with an inoperable brain aneurysm a few months before, it had prompted her to make some changes. Kayce guesses she must have told his father and the two of them decided to make up for lost time.

Lou’s cause of death had been the ruptured aneurysm and John had passed away alongside her peacefully, something that both Beth and Jamie are struggling to wrap their heads because they had no idea of the decades long love affair which is why Beth is losing her shit in the other room.

“I had no idea…” Jamie says shaking his head. “I didn’t even know we had another brother.”

“Yea… He’s…” Kayce trails off recalling his last interaction with Joe back at the bar where he was playing fiddle. “I’m gonna check in on him after this. He’s just lost his mom and he’s alone...”

“Should I come with you?” Jamie asks, his gaze straying back to the lounge where Beth is wrapping up her call.

“No.” Kayce says softly because he understands how Joe must be feeling right now, he thinks the presence of both of them, especially Jamie with his clean cut demeanour and Harvard law degree would just overwhelm him. He also knows he can’t leave Jamie in this house alone. Beth would tear him apart with her bare hands. “You should go home, spend some time with Dani and Opal. I’ll give you a call when I’m finished up with Joe.”

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[godmadeaterribleerror]

Just Your Time - No Love Lost Bonus Chapter

Series Masterlist

Read on A03!

Author's Note: Silly, silly fluff. Title from ordinary things by Ariana Grande.

Word Count: 1.5k

Summary/Warnings: You give Ben internet lessons. Takes place in Chapter 14, Usual warnings.

Tags: Soldier Boy/Supe!Female Reader, canon divergence, fluff

“There are three major platforms. Instagram, TikTok, and facebook. We’re going to go one by one.” You glance up at Ben, who’s scowling down at his phone like it’s just made a very personal insult about his mother. “Why are you making your grump face.”

His glare turns to you. “I don’t make a fucking grump face.”

“You do. You get all pouty, and the lines here,” you reach up, tapping a finger between his brows. “Get deeper.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Tell me why you’re being a baby.”

“I am not being a goddamn baby-“

“Benjamin.”

“This is fucking stupid.” He snaps, glower returning to the phone. “I don’t need to know about Instagran or tiktak-“

“Tiktok,” you grin at him. “And Instagran was a big Freudian slip, Pretty Boy. It’s Instagram.”

“I don’t fucking care what they’re called, this is fucking pointless shit for shallow pussies-“

“Oh, fuck off, I’ve seen you flexing in the bathroom mirrors, Ben.”

“That’s different. You fucking love it, and it’s to make I haven’t lost any fucking muscle-“

“You are biologically incapable of losing muscle. And this is shallow,” you shrug. “But it’s fun. And you promised you’d do it.” 

He scowls. “Fine.”

“Can I get a little more enthusiasm-“

“No. Start talking.”

You wrinkle your nose at him, scooting closer to reach over his arm, pointing to the apps as you speak. “Instagram. TikTok, Facebook. There’s also YouTube, but that will have to be a whole other thing, and Snapchat, but you’d hate that-“

“Why.”

“Have you ever wanted to have all your messages instantly deleted and look like a puppy dog in the camera?”

“No, that sounds dumb as fucking balls.”

“Then no Snapchat. That’s Twitter, but-“

“Says X on it.” Ben drawls your name, giving you a smug look, and you sigh.

“Well, that’s why we’re not talking about it. If I tell you about Elon Musk and Tesla, you’ll have an aneurysm and that would just be huge bummer for me.”

“Aw, Sunshine,” he leans down, bumping your nose with his. “Would you fucking miss me? Get all damn sad if I died?”

It’s very difficult to hold your ground. Ben’s hand has moved to your thigh, and his mouth keeps brushing yours, and you feel his hunger running from his body into yours. But you manage to raise a hand and push his face backwards with a scoff, sticking your tongue and ignoring how to hunger flashes in his chest. 

“You know I would, don’t be a cunt.”

“Brat.”

“Uh huh,” you tap the phone, still in his hand, and don’t allow yourself to meet his eyes. If you meet Ben’s eyes you’ll start climbing on top of him, and you’ll lose. “Pay attention.”

Ben scoffs, but falls silent, waiting for you to continue. 

“No Twitter. Just these three.” You risk a glance up at him. He’s still distractingly handsome—the world didn’t like you enough to change that—but glowering at the phone, and you nudge his shoulder with yours. “Tell me their names.”

“Instagram,” he grunts, raising a finger to point at them one by one. “TikTok, and…” His eyes narrow, and he pauses for long enough that you’re not sure he’s going to figure out that the names are right there on the display. 

“Ben-“

“Facebook.” He looks up at you with a smirk. “Fucking nailed it.”

“Yeah, you’re a genius.” You mutter, but still smile at him. Something warm grows in your gut, and you have to stop meeting his eyes again. “Facebook is probably the least important one, but you would like it-“

“Why would I-“

“Because it’s for old people.” You grin at him, and Ben rolls his eyes. 

“Shut the fuck up.”

“No. I think we’ll do Instagram today, because TikTok will break your brain and I’m not ready to explain the Minions to you yet.”

“What the fuck is a minion-“

“Nope. Not today.” You lean over him, opening Instagram. “And remember, the less of a little bitch you are about this, the faster we finish and the sooner we can do something else.”

“We could just do something else right fucking now, no one’s damn making us do this-“

You give him a flat look. “I am, Benjamin. Eyes on the phone.”

He gives you one last glare, and turns back to the phone. “What the fuck am I looking at.”

“Instagram,” you sigh, hanging over Ben’s arm to frown at the screen. “Essentially, it’s a photo sharing app. People post about their lives, pets, memes-“

“What the fuck is a meme.”

“It’s like a funny photo or Internet joke. We’ll have to talk about it later as well. There’s a lot of business accounts, celebrity accounts, celebrity fan accounts-“

“What-“

“It’s an account that posts a bunch of photos and news and videos about one specific celebrity.” You tilt your head at the phone. “There are probably some for you, actually.”

“For me?” Ben blinks at you. “The fuck are they doing on them?”

“Posting photos of you.”

“How did they get fucking photos of me-“

“The internet, Ben.” You grin at him. “Believe it or not, there are photos of you on the internet.”

He pauses, frowning between you and the screen. “Are they good photos?”

Every photo of him is a good photo. Ben has a stupid, amazing face that looks like it was carved by Michelangelo, and every photo of him is a good photo. He doesn’t get to know that.

“They’re fine.”

“Just fucking fine?! The hell did all the good ones go-“

“Jesus, Benjamin, they’re good.” You give him a flat look. “Who’s shallow now?”

“You’d be worried about how you look if your face had to be fucking everywhere,” he snaps your name, but it’s fake anger. You can feel his amusement, and any annoyance is coated in a layer of complete comfort that makes you a little dizzy. “My job was my damn face. I’m not a vain pussy, I’m a business man-”

You snort. “You are not a fucking business man, Pretty Boy.”

“Fuck you, Sunshine, I made millions-“

“I’m sure you did,” you pat his arm, and Ben glares at you. “Are you going to keep being a huge baby, or can I keep talking?”

“Whatever.”

“That’s the spirit.” You take the phone from his hand, and start to swipe through the app, talking Ben through the what turned out to be the many nuances of Instagram. You’d—incorrectly—thought this would take twenty minutes, but Ben wouldn’t stop asking questions. You made the mistake of showing him a Soldier Boy fanpage, and that alone took ten minutes to explain and move on from. By the time you hit livestreams, Ben looked like he might start throwing something—what the fuck is the point of this shit, I don’t care about what these pussies have to say about fucking nothing—so you called it. He knew how the explore page worked, not to answer strange DMs, and if someone promised him hot MILFs in his area that it was probably a lie.

“I’m not an idiot,” he grumbles your name, closing the app. “And I don’t even know what a fucking MILF is-“

“Mother I’d Like to Fuck.” You grin at him. “But you might be more into GILFs.”

He frowns. “The fuck’s a GILF.”

“If MILF is an acronym, I think you can figure out GILF yourself.”

It takes a second of Ben glaring at you—the gears of his brain slowly turning to find the answer—and you can see the moment he gets it, because he rolls his eyes and a flash of indigence runs through him. “Brat.”

“I don’t know what you could possibly be referring to-“

Your words die in your throat as Ben tosses his phone somewhere across the room and hauls you onto his lap, burying his face in your neck and grumbling against your skin.

“You’re fucking stuck with me, beautiful, no damn GILF on the internet is taking me away.”

You hum. “What if they’re horny, and in your area?”

“Only old lady in my area is Mallory, and I’d rather cut off my goddamn dick than fuck her.”

“That’s not very nice, Benjamin-“ Your word turn into a long, breathless sound as he starts to leave open, wet kisses along your shoulder, and he’s so hungry, and it’s all fucking on purpose. YYour heart is racing as his hands tangle in your hair, and words start to feel a little far away, and you can feel how smug he is about it. “Cunt-“

“We’re done with the internet shit today.”

Not a question, but his muscles flex around you as he pulls you closer, so you don’t argue. “Yeah.”

“Good.” Ben flips you over in one, smooth movement, moving up to your mouth and smirking as you moan. “Next time, we’re doing this shit first. I don’t give a fuck about the internet,” he lets out a low groan as you tug at his hair. “But I can get the fuck on board if this is how we start.”

You answer a little too fast to be dignified, but he’s dropped back down to your neck, and you feel a little high. “Deal.”

“Deal.” Ben looks up at you, grinning as you start to try and tug him back to your mouth. “Let’s get started on it right fucking now.”

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[atlafan]

Bad Medicine - Prologue + Part 1

a/n: you can read this 8-part, completed fic on Patreon now! I always like to post the first part of a completed work here to give yall a taste. Consider joining my Patreon today to read the rest of this fic, and the many others I have on there. Happy Friday! Warnings: grief, funerals, a ton of sexual tension. best friend's little sister/brother's best friend trope Words: 10K Patreon

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Prologue

Harry

It was sudden and unexpected. But even when you’re given the time to prepare, you still fall apart when it happens, so there’s no difference.

My best friend died. We’re only thirty-one, this shouldn’t be happening yet. But a brain aneurysm doesn’t care how old you are, apparently. Tim hadn’t felt well one afternoon. We all thought he was dehydrated, so he went to lay down. When his mother went upstairs to check on him, his body was unmoving, and he had no pulse.

The Bakers are a close family. I had the privilege of being pulled in when Tim and I became friends. Tim’s father, Adam, died a long time ago, it was a mixture of lung cancer and high cholesterol. When he died, he left quite a bit of land to Tim and I. Tim’s mother, Georgette, had already known about this, but it came as a complete shock to Tim and I.

“It’s so you two can build the ranch back up, make it better.” Georgette had smiled somberly. “We didn’t think you’d be getting it quite so soon.”

My grandmother had raised me, but when she got too old to take care of herself, we had to sell our home. I moved her into the best assisted living facility I could find, and the Bakers invited me to come live with them. I barely needed to take them up on their offer because this happened around when Tim and I were set to go to college. We both got football scholarships at the same school. It was perfect. But I’d stay with them when I’d come home on breaks, and I had been going to their house since I was five. The Bakers have always been family.

Since Adam died when we were fifteen, our after-school jobs became mowing, fence mending, dirt packing, stall mucking, and so on. We worked our asses off to bring Black Beauty Ranch to life. Georgette was a big help with the logistics. She had grown up on a cattle ranch, so she knew the ins and outs of buying and selling cattle, horses, chickens, and so on. She knew the best vets to come in and check on the animals, she knew how to help the animal through giving birth, and she knew how to give horse riding lessons. She of course taught us all of that too, so by the time Tim and I graduated from college, we were ready to take the reins.

We built a big, beautiful house for ourselves. The land wasn’t too far from the Baker’s original house, so we created a throughway and had Georgette stay living there, while Tim and I lived in our big house. We call Georgette’s house Girl House, and we call mine and Tim’s Boy House. It was stupid, but because Tim’s little sister stayed with Georgette, and they were girls, it made sense for that to be called the girl house because that’s what it was. Rowan was actually the one to give us the idea. Not living with Georgette gave us the much needed independence we craved. We didn’t want to have to answer to anyone about who may or may not be sleeping over, and Tim didn’t want Rowan seeing random women coming and going.

After we built the boy house, we worked on smaller, ranch-style homes that the ranch hands could live in, if they so choose. We used several as Air BnB’s to offset different costs, and we even converted one of the barns into an event space so people could have their wedding receptions or parties here.

Families rented our horse stables, our horses too, and we offered lessons. The ranch hands did a superb job of keeping the cattle healthy, along with the other animals. We’ve made this place into a well-oiled machine. Even Rowan stepped up a few years back to do some freelance social media management for us. She set up an email marketing schedule, ads on different social networking sites, all of that shit. I don’t understand much of it. I think I only have Instagram and Facebook as apps on my phone, and that’s just to stay in touch with a few people and to switch into the business accounts to answer questions.

It wasn’t until a little later that it was revealed as to why Adam left his nearly 6,000 acres to us. His brother, Glen, thought he was going to get everything since the Baker home had been a generational family home. He only got the Baker General Store in town, and he ended up having to sell it because of the 2008 recession. He had that little bit of cash and nothing else. He’s tried to weasel his way into Black Beauty Ranch, but Georgette has been good about keeping him out of our business. The land was in a trust, split between me and Tim. Glen was pretty pissed when we met with the family attorney to go over Adam’s will.

“How could he do this to me, I’m his brother! That boy isn’t even related to us!” Glen had shouted, scaring Rowan. I’ll never forget seeing her little body tremble as she hung on to Tim.

“It doesn’t matter! This is what Adam and I wanted. We wanted to ensure the kids would be set up for long after we’re gone. Tim needed a partner, and Harry’s practically family. His grandmother babysat you and Adam when you were kids, remember?”

“So that makes him family?”

“Maybe I should go.” I had said, not wanting to cause any drama.

“Harry, it’s alright. Glen’s just being a baby.” Georgette said, then looked at Glen. “You’re getting the general store, what’s the big deal?”

“I already had the general store.”

“You had half of the general store. Adam left you his share. You only want the acreage so you can convert it into a subdivision and sell bits and pieces of it for people to build shitty homes on. The land will be a better use for Black Beauty.”

“What a stupid name.” Glen seethed.

“I picked it out.” Little Rowan had mustered the courage to say. “The boys let me.”

“It’s her favorite movie.” Tim said. “And we wanted her to feel like she had a say in things.”

“There are, like, eight different Black Beauty movies.” Glen ran a hand down his face. “This is insane!”

“It doesn’t matter. This is what Adam wanted, and I signed off on it when we put all of this together.” Georgette said. “This isn’t something you can contest. My husband died.” She took a step towards him. “The love of my life is gone forever, you don’t want to fuck with me right now, Glen.”

It was the first time I had ever heard Georgette use a curse word. The room fell completely silent, and that was that.

The ranch is really starting to turn a profit now. It’s been good for the town of Hawthorn, thanks to all of the jobs the ranch created. Other ranches and farms buy our cattle to sell to markets because ours aren’t pumped full of hormones or other bullshit. And even though somedays it feels like back-breaking labor, I love what I do.

But Tim’s dead now, so I have no idea how I’m going to manage the ranch on my own. Sure, Georgette is still here to help, but I can’t rely on her forever. I’m going to need to talk to Rowan when she gets here for the funeral. Maybe she can help out in the interim. She hasn’t lived at home in quite some time, but maybe she wouldn’t mind not paying rent for a while, that could sweeten the deal a bit considering she lives in LA where the rent is astronomical.

We all decided to meet at the boy house since that’s where everyone will go after the service. Georgette is already down in my kitchen. I’m just getting my tie tied when I hear Georgette exclaim, “She’s here!”. Hopefully her loud voice didn’t send my Granny into shock. She’s ninety, she can’t handle much these days.

I make my way downstairs, give Granny a kiss on the top of her head before topping up her coffee, and then the wind is knocked out of me when Georgette brings Rowan into the house.

She looks the most grown up I’ve ever seen her, like…like a real woman. All she has on is a simple, black dress, but there’s something different about her.

Before I can greet her, she’s throwing herself into me, crying, “Oh, Harry!” She sobs into my chest, and I have no idea what to do. I don’t want to hold her too tight. She’s already pressed up against me, I don’t need to feel any more of her than I already do. I decide to just pat at her shoulder. “I’m sorry, I know you all are sad too, I just don’t know how I’m going to get through this.” She pulls back and wipes under her eyes. “I can’t believe he’s really gone. Oh! Hi, Granny Styles.” She throws her arms around Granny. “How are you feeling?”

“Any time I sit, I have to sit on a donut or else my back hurts for a week. How the hell do you think I’m feeling?”

“Granny.” I can’t help but laugh. “Don’t be nasty to Ro, hm? Her brother died.”

Granny rolls her eyes. Losing a sibling is child’s play to her. She was forced to bury her son and daughter-in-law on the same day. There’s really no coming back from that kind of grief. But the upside is, Georgette has someone to talk to about what it feels like to lose a child.

“The town car is here.” Georgette says. “I’ll sit with Granny in the second row of seats, you two can sit in the back row. It’s nice that no one will have to sit up front with the driver. When Adam died, they wouldn’t let Ro sit on my lap, so they made Glen go sit up front. Come to think of it, maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing.”

“I’m glad he’s not riding with us to the cemetery.” Rowan says. “Why isn’t he, though? Since he’s immediate family.”

“I asked the undertaker if they could send a separate car to his house since your aunt and cousins are coming.”

We all head outside to the car, and I help Granny inside before rounding the car to open the other door for Georgette. Then I open the door for Rowan before going around the car again to get in on the other side. We’re all quiet, knowing that if we speak at this point, we’ll all just burst into tears. I, for one, would prefer to save my tears for the service.

We’re not late by any means, but we’re not the first to arrive. A few of the ranch hands are already here, as well as some friends from high school, and Tim’s ex-girlfriend, Delia.

Fuck. They broke up about six months ago, she must be devastated. I leave Georgette, Rowan, and Granny to go over to her.

“Hey.” I say.

“Hi.” Her voice cracks and I open my arms to hug her. She comes to me easily. When I feel her stomach meet mine rather quickly, I step back and look down. She’s wearing a long coat. She notices me looking at her stomach and she sighs, opening her jacket. “I was going to tell him.” She takes a deep breath and closes her jacket back up. “I wanted to wait until I knew if I even wanted to keep it or not. I didn’t know if I wanted to be attached to Tim for the rest of my life. But…when a few months went by, I thought about how much of a great dad he would be. So…so I was going to come here and tell him, and…and see if he wanted to try to make things work. I can’t believe I waited so long. I…” She buries her face back into my chest and I hold her.

“How far along are you, exactly?” I can’t help but ask.

“Almost five months. We had one last spontaneous romp when we bumped into each other at a concert. We both had been drinking and…well, you know, sometimes these things happen.”

“I have to ask the uncomfortable question: are you sure it’s his?”

“That’s valid.” She sighs. “I haven’t slept with anyone else. I went on a few dates after Tim and I broke up, but when I found out I was pregnant, I decided to focus on myself.”

“Alright.” I run a hand through my hair. “Tensions are high today. Come back to the house after the service. I think Georgette will be really excited about having a grandbaby. And we can give you a place to live, money towards pre-natal care, stuff like that, if you need it. I know how conservative your parents are…do they know?”

“No, I’m going to tell them after the baby’s born. I’m afraid they’d find a way to push me down the stairs or something. Your kindness and hospitality is much appreciated.”

“It’s what Tim would want.” I smile softly.

“I can’t believe how grown-up Rowan looks.” Delia nods towards her. “I mean, I know she’s twenty-six, but this is one of the first times it’s hit me that she’s not a little girl anymore.”

“I was thinking the same thing earlier.”

“Yeah? You were checking her out?” Delia smirks, and I feel my cheeks grow hot.

“No.” I say defensively. “Don’t be gross, Dee.” I shake off my embarrassment when I see Glen, his wife Priscilla, his son Malcom, and his daughter Elma. “I better go say hi to them. There are chairs if you need to sit.”

“Thank you, Harry.”

I go over to Glen and his family just as they’re wrapping up their hellos. I shake his hand and do my best to smile at my surrogate aunt and cousins. Me, Tim, and Malcom all graduated in the same year. I think Malcom was always jealous that Tim and I were closer, but the three of us did just about everything together for a while. And for the most part, we got along just fine.

“Isn’t it just terrible that funerals are the only times we really get together?” Elma dabs her eyes with a tissue. She’s three years younger than us. And even though I was never interested, Malcom gave me the, ‘don’t ever touch my sister’, talk when we were in high school, and he reminded me again when she turned eighteen. Then he got offended when I told him I’d never want to go out with Elma.

Malcom is just like his father in that he never understood why Tim and I never cut him in for partial ownership of the ranch. He claimed he could help and be useful, but this was something Adam had left to only Tim and myself, probably for a good reason, so we never cut Malcom in. Malcom is successful in his own right, having opened up his own real estate agency, not so cleverly called, Baker Realty. Elma is his accountant. Despite her faults, she’s a fucking whiz with numbers, I have to give her that. Neither of them are married with kids.

“Mrs. Baker.” The reverend comes over to us, addressing Georgette and not Priscilla. “We’ve filled in considerably. I think it’s time you all take your seats so we can begin. I believe Mrs. Styles is already sitting.”

“Yeah, Granny sat down right away.” I say and give Georgette my arm. I almost trip when Rowan takes my other arm. We all sit down in the front row of seats. I sit by Granny, Georgette sits next to me, and Rowan is on her other side. The rest of the family fills in the other seats. Delia sits behind us. I’m glad she’ll be off her feet for a bit. I feel Granny put her hand over mine and I turn to look at her. All she does is look at me and give me a soft smile. “Are you alright?” I whisper.

“It’s a terrible thing, to bury your child. It’s bringing back some tough memories, but I’m more so worried about you. You and Tim were attached at the hip. So, you just squeeze Granny’s hand any time it becomes to be too much, just like you did at your parents’ funeral.”

I kiss her temple then interlock our fingers. I don’t know what I’m gonna do when she eventually kicks the bucket.

The second the reverend begins, I feel my eyes water. Out of my peripheral, I can see tears sliding down Georgette’s cheeks. Rev talks about how we should look at things as a celebration of life and the ways we can keep Tim alive in our hearts going forward. Then he steps aside so others can speak. I take a deep breath and stand up first.

“To quote Emily Dickinson, ‘my friends are my estate’. This was true for Tim. Land, money…none of that mattered to him as long as his family was happy and healthy. Tim had to grow up fast after his father died. He stepped into the ‘man of the house’ role seamlessly. He took on a lot and never complained. Tim and I have been friends since kindergarten. I was instantly pulled in as a member of the Baker family. I’ll always be grateful to him for giving me a sense of normalcy. The world will be different without Tim.” Tears start sliding down my face, but I’m still able to speak without hiccups. “It hasn’t completely set in that I’ll never be able to go fishing with him, or go for a ride on our horses, or even muck out a stall with him again. Tim was my best friend, my brother…and I loved him.” I look back at his casket. “I’ll miss you, buddy.” I sit back down and Georgette mouths, ‘thank you’.

Rowan goes up next, but she’s only able to get a few sentences out before she has to sit back down. A couple of other friends share some kind words about Tim, and then we’re all standing up as he’s lowered into the ground. Rowan’s sob breaks me out of my trance. She sounds like she’s been stabbed. Turning to her, I open my arms and let her hug and hold onto me. She clutches to the lapels of my suit jacket, and I wrap my arms around her, resting my chin on the top of her head.

“It’s okay, honeybee.” I say, just above a whisper, “We’ll get through this.”

I see Malcom and he’s already looking at me, narrowing his eyes. I have no idea why.

We’re all eventually pried away from the gravesite, and back at the boy house. People are eating and drinking and sharing more stories about Tim. Some people are still crying, but it seems like everyone has a shoulder to lean on. I head into my home office for a minute alone, and to grab a beer out of the minifridge. Tim and I shared this space. We always joked around that it looked like an old detective’s office, with the desks pressed back-to-back.

Just as I’m taking the cap off my beer, Rowan comes in and closes the door behind her.

“We’re doing everything with the will tomorrow. Your mom figured Glen would put up a stink, and we didn’t want that happening today.”

“I wasn’t coming in here to talk about that. Delia just told us she’s pregnant and that you said she could live here if she needed to.”

“I’ll have her stay in your mom’s house. I don’t want her coming to me as some sort of surrogate boyfriend, or father to her baby.”

“I’m…gonna have to move back here to help out…aren’t I.” It’s not a question.

“I’m sure your mom would appreciate it.”

“The second I come back here, she’s going to-“

“Rowan, now really isn’t the time to be a whiny brat.” I snap. “None of this matters right now. Your brother died, can we just get through his funeral before we make things all about you?” I take a swig of my beer before setting it down. “I know you have a whole other life in LA. I’m not gonna twist your arm to make you come back, but it sure as shit would be nice if you did. I can’t run the ranch by myself, and I can’t rely on your mom. Tim would have wanted you to take over his share, and I’m fairly certain that’s stated in his will.”

“I’ll have to quit my job…I wouldn’t be able to come back right away. I’ll need to drive my car back. I’ll need help.”

“I’ll have your mom fly out to help you, and then she can drive back with you.”

“Not you?”

“No, I’ll be needed here.”

“Where would I live? If Delia’s gonna move in with Ma…are any of the smaller ranch houses available? You must save a couple for the Air BnB.”

“They’re all booked out, and all of the other houses are taken. If one opens up, it’ll go to Delia. She’ll only want to live with your mom for so long.”

“So…I’d live here?”

“What’s wrong with your house? It’s not like Delia’s taking over your room.”

“I cannot live under the same roof as my mother again.”

“Cut her some slack.”

“Right now, I have all the freedom in the world. If I move back in with her, she’s gonna start up with house rules and other bullshit.”

“And you think there wouldn’t be rules here with me?” I smirk, crossing my arms over my chest. “Because let me tell you, young lady, I have rules.”

“Oh?” She smiles, and it’s rather…flirty. I’m suddenly aware that we’re alone in a room with the door closed. “And what might those be?”

“You really want to live with me? This house is huge, but it’s not like every bedroom has an en suite. We’d be sharing a bathroom, this office-“

“I won’t mind being around you so much. I never have.” There she goes, being flirty again.

“Let’s just cross that bridge when we come to it, okay?”

“Okay.” She sighs. “Anyways, I only came in here to take a break from everyone. Thank you for speaking so nicely before. I wish I could’ve gotten all my words out.”

“You did your best. It’s not easy.”

“I should go check on Delia. She and I have a lot of catching up to do.”

I watch Rowan leave, biting into my cheek as I watch her hips sway. Did she have to wear such a tight dress? It’s completely appropriate with its high neckline, and it goes down just above her knees, but the way it accentuates her…assets…

I sit down at my desk and sigh, feeling sad when I look up and don’t see Tim sitting across from me. It’s at this time, I notice an envelope on my desk with my name on it. It’s Tim’s handwriting. I open it immediately:

“Harry, if I’m to perish in an untimely manor, there’s something you need to know. If I’m not around, then I won’t be there to make sure Rowan is alright. Even though she doesn’t come home as often, if something happens to me, she’ll come home. I want you to look out for her the same way I did. She’ll need a positive male force in her life, and I don’t want Uncle Glen or Malcom trying to do that. It has to be you.

This isn’t my secret to tell, but you should know that Rowan has a major crush on you. She does a good job to hide it, but I’m not an idiot, it’s clear from the way she looks at you. I don’t think you ever would, but my wish is that you never start a romantic relationship with her.

My reasoning behind this isn’t because you can be sort of promiscuous. I’ve seen you have wonderful relationships, so it’s not that I don’t think you’re capable. And it’s not because I don’t think you’re worthy of my sister. But if you were to ever get together, and it didn’t work out, there would be a rift between you and my family going forward. Tensions would rise, and it could ruin the peace we’ve built at Black Beauty. Even if you fall in love with her and truly think you could make it, don’t go after her. If she flirts with you or asks you out, turn her down. It’ll hurt and it’ll suck, but it’s what has to be done.

I know this seems insane, but I never want you to be on bad terms with my family. So, please, honor this wish of mine.”

I’m stunned. Did he really think I would ever jeopardize everything we’ve worked for? Flush sixteen years of work down the toilet just so I could fuck his sister? I don’t even like Rowan like that. And what was all that shit about her having a crush on me? I suppose the flirting makes sense, but that could also just be playfulness. I’ve never noticed her looking at me or anything. But then again, I was never looking at her.

Not until today.

What else is odd is that Tim never verbally spoke with me about this. Since Rowan is a decent chunk younger than us, he never had to give me the ‘don’t touch my sister’ talk the way Malcom felt the need to do with Elma. And why wouldn’t John just give this to me tomorrow when he reads out the will? Who found this, and who put it here?

This is not good. Not good at all.

**

Part One

Rowan

When my mother called to tell me that Tim had died suddenly, I was in a state of shock. I didn’t believe it, but also put her on speaker so I could immediately book my flight out to Hawthorn.

I only come home sporadically, for certain holidays. I wanted so much more out of life than smelling like horse shit and dirt. I went to college in LA, and pretty much never came home, moving there full time after graduation. I have a great job doing social media metrics and analysis. I work the job remotely, but I don’t think I’ll be able to do it and help out on the ranch at the same time. I’ll have to talk to my supervisor. I know I’ll have to move back here for good. Harry’s right, he needs me to take Tim’s share.

I suppose it won’t be all bad, being around Harry all the time. I’ve missed him. The way he held me today and just let me cry into him was everything I didn’t know I needed. I’m sure he still just sees me as Tim’s baby sister, but I could have sworn there was something different in his eyes when he looked at me today. It was like he was seeing me clearly for the first time in his life. It sent a wave of confidence running through me.

Five years is a big age difference. I knew that growing up. I knew nothing would ever happen between us, not until we were older, at least. Thirty-one and twenty-six doesn’t seem as huge. We’ve both matured, especially me. I’ve learned to take care of myself. That’s partially why I don’t want to move into my mother’s home. She’ll take everything I’ve done and squash it in a matter of minutes.

I love my mother, and it’s not that I don’t get along with her, but I have reasons as to why I moved away. I needed to breathe.

Every other minute, I get hit with a wave of reality. My brother is gone. He’s never coming back. I haven’t felt this lost or sad since my dad died. I was only nine when that happened. Tim took on so much and never complained, just as Harry said. He was so much more than a big brother to me. He and Harry taught me how to fish, start a fire at a campsite, to swim…Tim was always there for me. But so was Harry. He’ll make coming home much easier. And maybe, just maybe, he’ll start seeing me as more than just Tim’s little sister. We can deal with our grief together and help each other, and I can show him how adult I’ve become. I’m not a little girl anymore. I haven’t been for a very long time.

**

“Rowan, Tim’s share of the ranch goes to you.” John, our family’s attorney says. We’re all in the home office, listening. Harry’s barely looked in my direction. But I’m not holding anything against him. It’s a weird time. “If after a year you want out, Harry, and only Harry,” he looks at Malcom and Glen, “can buy you out.”

Okay, so if I hate it, I only have to stick around for a year. That’s not so bad.

“How does that make any sense?” Glen asks.

“Because the ranch is in a trust, and myself and Tim are the only ones allowed to sell and buy and do things with it, you jackass. Now it’ll be Rowan and I.” Harry huffs. “John, please continue.”

“The boy house is yours, of course. The girl house is still Georgette’s, but it’ll go to you and Rowan when she’s done with it. Tim leaves his personal affects to you, Harry, to do whatever you want to them. Is there a Delia Anderson present?”

“That’s me.” Delia raises her hand. I didn’t think my brother would have left anything for her. He didn’t know she was pregnant. “Tim…mentioned me in his will?”

“He stated that in the event of an untimely pass, he wanted to give you the money he had saved for an…engagement ring.”

“Oh my god.” She pinches the bridge of her nose, clearly trying not to cry. “I can’t believe I fucked up so badly with him.” She buries her face in her hands and sobs. My mother goes to her quickly, rubbing her back.

“Dee, you didn’t know this was going to happen.” Harry says softly. “You can do whatever you want with the money. Can set up a retirement account, or something for the baby.”

“Right.” Delia sniffles. “Thank you.”

“I thought Tim didn’t know you were pregnant.” Malcom says.

“He didn’t.” Delia snaps. “That’s just the kind of guy he was. We were together for four years. We still loved each other. We just needed to take a break.”

“John, is there anything else?” Harry asks.

“That was the last item.”

“Great, meeting adjourned.” Harry claps his hands together. “Everyone can leave now.” He looks at Glen and Malcom as he says this. “Bye, see you at the next holiday gathering. Malcom, we’ll get beers later in the week, yeah?”

“Alright.” Malcom nods with a sigh.

“So,” my mother says once the other Bakers are gone, “Rowan, how quickly do you think you’ll be able to pack and wrap things up at work?”

“I don’t know. At least two weeks.”

“Alright, I’ll fly out when you’re ready and we’ll drive back together.” Ma says. “That shouldn’t take more than a couple of days if we set our minds to it.”

“Okay.” I look at Harry who’s looking anywhere but me. “Harry, should we sit and go over things, like, what you’ll need me to do around here and all that?”

“I can have that ready for you for when you get back.” He says. “I need time to really sit and think about it.” He looks down at his watch. “I have to go. A few of us from the football team are meeting up for drinks to honor Tim. I think coach is gonna retire his jersey.”

“Oh, that would be so nice.” Ma says. “Go on, have a good time with the boys.”

With that, Harry leaves.

“Well, I should get my shit packed and get ready for my flight.” I say.

“So, you’re not leaving any friends or boyfriends behind?” Ma asks.

“I mean, I have friends out there, but I still have friends here. And no, I don’t have a boyfriend. I haven’t had a boyfriend in, like, eight months. I’ve been focusing on myself.”

“That’s good.” Delia chimes in. “Smart. I’ll drive you to the airport. It’ll give us time to catch up.”

“I’d like that.”

**

Two Weeks Later

Three days alone with my mother. It didn’t start off bad. She was happy I rented a U-Haul to hitch to my SUV. I wanted to bring my bed and bedframe home, and it made it easier to pack the U-Haul rather than my car. We stopped for one night and got a motel room. Conversation was surface level, but good. Neither of us wanted to talk about Tim because neither of us wanted to start crying.

We talked about how nice it was that a few of my friends helped me pack all my shit before my mom got there. That led to her asking questions about me not having dated much since my last boyfriend.

“I don’t know, Ma. It was like the more I talked about where I grew up and what I grew up doing, he started to get more condescending. He talked to me like I was simple, like as if I didn’t have an undergraduate degree and a master’s. Any time I asked if he’d come home with me for a holiday, he told me we should go to his family’s. He started mansplaining more and more. I didn’t like it, so I t up with him. He didn’t believe it at first, but I changed my locks, blocked his number, and held firm.”

After telling my mother that story, she told me she was proud of me, and then she started telling me stories about guys she went out with before my dad, and how my dad was a breath of fresh air compared to all those other guys, and how she hopes I’ll find my own breath of fresh air.

As we take the exit off the highway that leads into Hawthorn, she starts fidgeting.

“Honeybee, are you sure you’d rather live in the boy house with Harry? I mean, it’s called ‘The Boy House’, for a reason.”

“It’ll be easier, Ma. Harry and I talked about it. The office is here, we’ll be able to go to the sites together easier. Your house is like half a mile from here.”

“When did you two talk?”

“Last week, he called me and we went over a few things. Why?”

“No reason.” She shrugs. “He just usually keeps me in the loop, that’s all.” I notice her grip the wheel a little tighter. “It’s a little odd to be living with a man you’re not in a relationship with.”

“It’s like having any other kind of roommate.”

“You’ll be sharing that upstairs bathroom.”

“I’m aware.”

“Have you ever shared a bathroom with a man before?”

“Um, yeah, every day when Tim and I were living with you.” I sigh. “Ma, if I really have to go and he’s in there, I’ll go use one of the downstairs bathrooms.”

“What about if he brings a woman home?”

“He’s an adult, he can do whatever he wants.”

“Fine.” She concedes. “If at any time it becomes too much, though, you come home to me and Delia.”

“I will.”

Ma pulls into Black Beauty Ranch, then down the road to the boy house. A ton of people are waiting outside, and there’s a big sign draped along the porch that says, ‘WELCOME HOME, HONEYBEE!’ Times like these, I cherish being from a small town.

“Oh, wow.” I beam as I get out of the car. Sally, Harry and Tim’s executive assistant, is the first to hug me. She’s in her mid-fifties and incredibly sweet.

“Harry and I organized the whole thing.” She tells me. “The ranch hands are here to help. Some of the ladies made food for everyone, plenty to go around. Are all your boxes labeled by room?”

“Of course they are.” I smile.

“Good.” She smiles back at me and kisses my cheek. She looks at Eduardo, the foreman of the ranch hands, and says, “alright, send in the troops!”

Eduardo gives me a big hug after telling the ranch hands to start with the U-Haul.

“We missed you, kid.” He tells me.

“I missed you all too. I’m happy to be home and on the ranch.” A woman comes over to me and gives me a hug.

“Ro, I didn’t get a chance to see you at the funeral, I’m Sarah.”

“Oh! You’re the head of the events team.”

“I am.” She beams. “I was a year below your brother in school. I’m so excited that we’ll be able to work together in person, make all the social media stuff you do even better.”

“Yeah, Harry said I’ll probably be taking over the weekly meeting you have with him. I’m great at project managing. I’m looking forward to working with you too.”

“He said what?” Her smiles falls slightly.

“Well, it’s just that he meets weekly with Sally, and then with Eduardo. It would free up some time for him if I take over your weekly meeting, and I don’t mind. You have others on your team, right? Daryl and Janey, right?”

“Right.” She swallows.

“Sally, where’s Morgan?”

“I sent her off with Harry so I could be here.” Morgan is the admin below Sally. She takes care of more of the day-to-day things like general emails and phone calls. “They had to pick up a few heifers earlier today. They should be back in a bit. He really wanted to be here when you got here, but they couldn’t reschedule the sale.”

“Oh, it’s fine, I get it.” I wave her off. I watch as the ranch hands start bringing boxes into the house. I notice Sarah talking with my mother. My mother looks annoyed, but not with Sarah. She looks annoyed with whatever Sarah just told her.

Hmm. That’s…interesting.

After saying hello to a few more people, I start helping to bring my stuff inside. I’m certainly not going to sit around while everyone does everything.

I’m grateful that so many people made and brought food. We’re all hanging out in the kitchen, stuffing our faces. I told most of the people they could leave once all the boxes were in. I’m not going to let anyone unpack for me. That’s my responsibility. So, it’s just me, Sally, Ma, Eduardo, Sarah, and Delia. Thank fucking God for Delia. I always liked her, and even though she started dating Tim by the time I moved to LA, I still knew of her. She’s just a kind human being. I’m glad she’ll be part of our family again.

“Hello!” I hear Morgan from the mudroom. She comes into the kitchen and squeals. We run towards each other and hug. Morgan and I have been friends forever. I’m glad she’s working at the ranch. “Sorry, I probably smell like cow shit.”

“You don’t.” I laugh. “Are the heifers alright?”

“Yeah, they’re great. Harry’s down at the transition barn, he’ll be up in a few minutes.”

The transition barn is where all the new cattle go to get acquainted with the new surroundings. It’s comfortable and peaceful for the cattle.

“You know,” Morgan says after popping a cherry tomato into her mouth, “he was super anxious all day about getting back here. He really wanted to be part of the warm welcome.”

“He’s sweet like that.” Sally says. “He’s been fretting around the house for the past week making sure everything was in suitable condition for you.”

“Oh, I feel bad. He didn’t have to do anything special for me.” I frown.

“You know Harry.” Eduardo says. “Always looking out for honeybee.” He kisses my temple. “Well, I’m gonna head to my house. My darling wife has plans with her friends, so I need to go take over parent duty.”

“Bye, Ed, thanks so much for your help today.” I give him a hug, and he gives me a good squeeze before heading out.  

“I think it’ll be good if we all get going. Rowan needs time to unpack.” Sally says. “Sarah, come on, I’ll drop you off at your car.”

“No, please don’t go yet! Morgan’s staying to help me unpack my room and stuff. You’re all more than welcome to stay.” I tell them.

“I have a better idea, we’ll all go to Georgette’s.” Delia says. “We’ll have some dessert and coffee. Decaf, obviously.” She chuckles and cups her bump.

“Sounds good to me.” Sally says. “Let’s go, ladies.”

Sarah flashes the fakest smile in my direction, then leaves. My mother gives me a hug and goes out with Delia and Sally.

Morgan and I head up to my room.

“It’s not weird for you to be taking over Tim’s room?” She asks me.

“Nah, Harry actually said he preferred it. It’s better than leaving it like a shrine or turning it into an empty room. Besides, the only other bedrooms up here are at the other end of the hall, and this is the only bathroom up here. I love the Jack and Jill style.” I open the door. “It’s kind of cute that they put in a double vanity. I remember when they first showed us the bathroom layout when they were building it, and my mom point blank asked if they were more than just friends.”

“Ha! I know, they lived like two old ladies who have been ‘special friends’ for thirty years.” Morgan smirks. “Do you think he’ll get freaked out with all the girly stuff in the bathroom?” She looks at my box of products and toiletries.

“He’s a modern man, I don’t think a few razors and bottles of various products is going to be an issue.”

“What did LA do to you? You’re like one of those Tik Tok girls who uses like eight products just to wash their face.”

“Stop making fun of me.” I take the box from her and go into the bathroom. “All of this stuff helps. Now, my mini lazy Susan can go in this corner. That’s what I put all my makeup and brushes on. This little shelf organizer is for my mouth products. And this shelf organizer houses my morning and night time skin care routine products.”

“Why do you need sweat bands?”

“They’re not sweat bands.” I laugh and slide them onto my wrists. “They stop the water from running down my arms when I wash my face.”

“Okay, that’s valid.”

“There we go. Clean and organized and not in the way of his stuff. I love how big the counter is. We won’t even bump elbows if we’re in here at the same time.” We head back into my room and start organizing my closet. “I like to keep things color coordinated, and by type of article. So, all tank tops should be together, and so on.”

“You’re like Danny Tanner.”

“A clean and uncluttered room will keep me calm. It’s something I have control over, if that makes sense.”

“It does.” She nods. “I’ll start on this end with your dresses.”

“Thanks.” I smile.

Many hands make light work. One of the last boxes of clothes is what was in my underwear drawer.

“And who exactly were you wearing this sexy thing for?” She flings a thong at me.

“No one.” I laugh. “I wear them with my leggings.”

“That’s a sex thong.”

“It is not.” I pull out a pair of lace panties. “These are sex panties. The cheeky bottoms are the best for sex. They’re not alluring.” I hold them up to my bikini area. “Don’t you just wanna take these off with your teeth.”

“Um…” she covers her mouth, hiding a laugh. She nods to tell me to look behind me.

I turn around, still holding the panties to my crotch. Harry’s leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, and a smirk on his lips.

“Oh, hi, Harry.” I can feel my cheeks heating up.

“I can see you’ve settled in.” His smirk grows. “Nice panties.”

“Thanks.” I swallow. “I got them on sale at Victoria’s Secret.”

“Good for you.” He looks down at them, then back up at me. “I think they’ll look a lot better in your dresser drawer.”

“Right.” I ball them up and hold them behind my back.

“Do you need the bathroom? I’m desperate to shower.”

“It’s all yours.”

“Morgan, you should get going. You’re probably exhausted.”

“I am exhausted.” She sighs. “I was just waiting until you got in. There’s nothing weirder than being in a new space by yourself. Can’t have my girl feeling lonely.”

“Thanks for all your help.” I tell her and give her a hug.

“Don’t mention it. Night, Har.”

“Night, Morgan.” He watches her leave, then looks at me. “The room alright?”

“Yeah, it feels like my own.”

“Good.” He nods. “And everyone came by and helped? Sally and I organized everything.” He rubs the back of his neck.

“I know, she told me. Everyone was a huge help.”

“Did you, uh, like the banner?”

“I loved it.” I make my way closer, and go to hug him, but he stops me.

“Don’t. Uh…I stink. I’m gonna shower.”

I nod and watch him leave. Even though that was a little awkward, I’m glad he’s home.

I decide to change into an oversized T-shirt and bed shorts, then go downstairs. I never got to have dessert earlier, and I need something sweet.

**

Harry

Any other guy would’ve been freaked out by all the feminine touches Rowan’s added to the bathroom, but I don’t mind. It makes it feel like home again. I was getting sick of only seeing my stuff around. I packed all of Tim’s stuff up and put it in the attic.

The only thing I need to be mindful of is I can’t walk around in just a towel anymore, or only in my briefs. I made sure to buy a ton of pajama pants and T-shirts. There’s a lady in the house now, I can’t be all exposed.

My stomach growls, so after I get dressed, I head down to the kitchen. Rowan’s already there, sitting up on the counter, eating something right out of the container.

“What’s that?” I ask, smirking.

“Oreo trifle.” She says, licking her spoon. “Want some?”

“Maybe in a bit. I need real food first.”

“How are the heifers?”

“Snug as a bug in a rug.” I sigh. “One of them is little, very cute. They’re all for milking and breeding. No slaughtering.”

“Yeah, we just save the slaughtering for the men.” She grins, and I grin back as I grab some Mac n cheese out of the fridge. I grab a fork and eat out of the dish. If she can do it, then so can I.

“God, Sally’s husband makes the best pulled pork Mac.”

“It was a real crowd pleaser. I made sure to save you some.”

“Thanks, honeybee.” I ruffle the hair on the top of her head, and she swats my hand away.

“Don’t.” She whines. “Can I ask you about Sarah?”

“What’s up?”

“That’s what I want to know. I told her you said I’d be taking over the one on ones with her, and she got sort of upset. Do you guys have a secret thing or something?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Then what’s her problem with me?”

“Sarah and I dated for, like, a second in high school. We stayed friends afterwards. She’s great at being the head of the events team, an excellent colleague. But, selfishly, I want you to take over the weekly meetings because I don’t always feel comfortable meeting alone with her.”

“Why not?”

“She’s a little bit attached to me.”

“From having a high school romance?”

“Well, I was sort of her…first.”

“First what, boyfriend?”

“No, her first.”

“Kiss?”

“No.”

“I’m at a loss.”

“Rowan, I was the first guy she had sex with.”

“Oh! Oh my God, I totally forgot people actually had sex in high school.”

“You didn’t?” I don’t know why I’m so surprised.

“No, I was way too scared of getting pregnant and having to drop out. I didn’t have sex until I was nineteen, and on birth control.”

“And somewhere that Tim couldn’t scare off any boyfriends.”

“That too.” She nods. “How old were you?”

“I don’t know, fifteen?”

“That means Sarah was fourteen!”

“What? No.” I laugh. “I was seventeen when I had sex with her, and she was sixteen.”

“You were having sex with multiple people?”

“Well, yeah. Who was gonna stop me, my granny?” I smirk. I seem to be doing a lot of that with Rowan.

“Good point.” She scoops some more trifle onto her spoon, but before she can bring it to her mouth, I snatch her wrist and take the spoonful into my own. “Hey.” She pouts.

She locks eyes with me, and I take the spoon from her. “This is good. Who made it?”

“No idea.”

I shrug and go in for more, but instead of eating it, I hold up the spoon to her mouth, and she takes the dessert into her mouth. She takes the spoon from me, and I lean both of my hands on the counter on either side of her hips. She feeds me another scoop. I don’t think I’ve ever been this close to her before. I can see every little freckle that’s speckled over her nose and cheeks. I stick my finger in the trifle and smear it onto the tip of her nose before standing up straight.

“What’d you do that for?” She laughs.

“I don’t know, felt like it.”

“Ohhhh, okay.” She takes the spoon, that’s full of trifle, and presses it onto my nose so it stays there.

I take a deep breath and remove the spoon. I pick up the container and reach for her head. She squeals and hops down from the counter.

“What’s the matter? I just wanna talk.” I say.

“No, you want to shove my face into that.”

“No, really, I just wanna talk.” She races to the fridge and pulls out a pie. “Is that supposed to scare me?”

“I don’t know.” She walks towards me. “You tell me.”

“Alright, Baker, drop the pie, and no one has to get hurt.”

“Drop that trifle first, Styles.”

“We’ll put them both down on three. One, two, thr-“

“Harry, what’s that?!”

“What?!” I look behind myself and don’t see anything. I turn back to her and then…chocolate cream pie is being thrusted into my face. “Rowan.” I say lowly, wiping pie out of my eyes. “I literally just showered.”

“Guess you’ll have to spend extra time on your skin care routine.” She snatches the trifle from me and puts it back in the fridge.

“You know what? You’re right. I’m so glad you’re here.” I open my arms. “Come give me a hug.”

“No way.” She laughs.

“Come on.” I start walking towards her.

“Harry!” She squeals and I snatch her just in time, and I rub my cheeks all over hers. “Stop, stop!” She laughs, and that’s when I start tickling her sides. “I tap out!” I let her go and wipe my face with my shirt. “Gross.”

“Welp, you’re in the boy house now, darlin’.” I make sure to add my best country accent, and she pushes my shoulder. “Get used to it.”

“Ugh, come on.” She takes my hand and pulls me out of the kitchen.

“Where are we going?”

“To the bathroom.” She tugs me upstairs and into our newly shared bathroom. “Sit.” She pushes me to sit on the lidded toilet. Then, she pushes some sort of head band onto me to pull my hair back. “I’m doing myself first. You can sit there and wait.” She puts an identical headband on, along with two sweatbands on her wrists.

“Sweatbands?”

“Oh my God, Morgan said the same thing. They’re not sweatbands, they help make it so water doesn’t run down my arms.” She flips the hot water on and dabs at her face with a washcloth.

“How many products do you use?”

“Well, first, I fully wash my face.” She does so, and I watch her. “Then, I pat dry. Once the skin is dry, I use a cotton pad and rub cleanser onto my skin, followed by toner.”

“And what do those do?”

“Cleanse the skin-“

“Didn’t you just do that?”

“No, I exfoliated. You exfoliate and then you cleanse. The toner helps with pigmentation and scarring.” She dabs it onto her skin. “Lastly, a light, oil free, nighttime moisturizer.” She fans her face afterwards. She sits up on the counter, then gestures for me to come to her. “Okay.” She dips a new washcloth into the hot water in the sink, then presses it to my face, over and over, getting it wet. Then, she pumps her exfoliant into her hands, rubs them together, and starts working it into my face. “Close your eyes.”

“Sorry.” I close them and try to relax. It feels kind of good to have her massaging my face.

“I’m draining your lymph nodes.” She explains. “Feels good, right?”

“Yeah.”

“You should really get a professional facial done sometime. They’re life changing.”

“Hey, honeybee?” She hums her response. “You’re not in LA anymore.”

“I’m well aware.” She dips the washcloth into the water and starts rinsing my face. “There are spas in Hawthorn.”

“I’d have to go out of town.”

“That can be arranged.” She pats my face dry with a cloth, then starts putting the cleanser on with a cotton pad, followed by the toner. “Some time you should let me put one of those blackhead strips over your nose after a shower.”

“Is it that bad?”

“No, but it wouldn’t hurt to do it occasionally. With all the sunscreen you wear, and all the dirt from the ranch, your pores get clogged like crazy.” She rubs the moisturizer into her hands, then spreads it over my face. “There, all clean.”

“Wow.” I look at myself in the mirror. “M’all glowy.”

“Yup.”

“Are you gonna do this for me every night?”

“Do you want me to?”

“Yeah, kinda.” I can’t help but laugh.

“Then you can pitch in for the products. I’m happy to help you with skincare. Just wait until the morning routine.”

“I’ll be counting down the minutes.” I take the headband off. “Is it okay to brush my teeth now, or will that throw everything off?”

“Don’t sass me.” She hops down and grabs her toothbrush. “Brush away.”

We take care of the rest in a comfortable silence, lingering after we’re done.

“Well, I guess…this is goodnight.”

“Did you finish unpacking your room? Do you need help with anything else?”

“Just putting away clothes. All my furniture is built and in place. You’re probably exhausted.”

“I’ve caught a second wind. I’ll come hang out while you finish. You’ll feel better if it’s all done tonight.” I follow her into her bedroom. “Any other lingerie you wanna show me?” I ask as I lay back on her bed, crossing my arms behind my head.

“Very funny.” She rolls her eyes with a smile. “I don’t have a ton of frilly things.” She bends over and picks up a ton of socks to put in her top drawer. I decide to sit up and see what other boxes she has. There’s one that’s labeled, ‘bedside table’, so I open it. I want to be helpful. I notice her double take as I rip the tape open. “Harry, wait!”

“What?” I look down and I feel my cheeks flush.

“Don’t you know that a woman’s bedside table is filled with her…goodies?!”

“Jesus, look at this thing.” I pull out a rather large, purple, silicon dildo. The internal end has ridges on it, and the external attachment is diamond shaped. I’ve never seen one like this before. “This is huge, it actually fits in you?”

“Don’t touch it!” She snatches it, and the box, from me, putting it back in. “Weirdo.”

“We’re adults.” I lean back on my hands. “It’s a bonding experience for us as roommates. Now answer my question.”

“Of course it fits in me. It’s my favorite one. It’s called a g-thumper. The inside thumps and vibrates against my…my spot.”

“Why is the external part diamond shaped? I’ve only ever seen rabbit ears, or those ones that are for suction.”

“It…Harry, this is embarrassing.”

“Just answer the question.”

“It kind of slips between and under the hood, so everything gets stimulated. It vibrates.”

“Ohhhhh.” I nod. “Cool. What else do you have in there?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“You shoved a pie in my face. Show me your goodies.”

“Why? So if you hear me you’ll have a better picture for your imagination?”

“Don’t be gross. I’m not a voyeur.”

“You’re only a voyeur if you’re watching.”

“Whatever, you know what I mean. Come on, teach me what women actually like to use. You just did the same thing with the skincare. You have to unpack the box regardless.”

“Fine.” She kneels on the floor and opens her bedside table drawer. “I have organizers for them and their chargers. I already put those in. Okay, so you’ve met big purple. This one is just for internal use, it thrusts on its own.” She holds up a pink silicon dildo. “And this one is just for external use, but I can never get it to work right, and takes too much effort to use, but it’s nice to use with a partner.”

“Why with a partner?”

“So the guy can focus on the fucking.” She closes the top drawer, then opens the bottom one. “Here’s my toy cleaner. And my different lubes. There, are you happy now?”

“Yup, very.” I lay back down with my arms crossed behind my head. “Continue on with your clothes.”

“Gee, thanks.” She shakes her head. “What toys do you use?”

“I don’t use any on myself.”

“Really?”

“Well, not when I’m alone.”

“Now, why is it okay for you to use one with a partner, but not me?”

“It’s not that it’s not okay, I just don’t think a lady should have to worry about getting herself off. That’s the man’s job. He should be in charge of the toy. Or at least telling you where to use it.”

“Harry?” She sits on the end of the bed.

“Hm?”

“You know what’s nice about not being related to you?”

“No, tell me.”

“I could never have a conversation like this with Tim. It would be weird. I…I was really hoping for us to grow closer with me moving here, really be friends, you know? Even though I’m still five years younger than you, that age difference doesn’t feel so big anymore.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

“Do you think…I mean, I can’t talk to my mom about Tim, she’ll get sad in a way I can’t even comprehend, but do you think if it’s a particularly hard day that I could come to you, and we could talk about Tim?”

“I’d like that.” I sit up and give her shoulder a squeeze. “I don’t like talking to your mom about him either. It would be nice to have someone to talk to.”

“I’m really glad you’re letting me live here with you.”

“I never would have said no. It’s been so quiet these last two weeks, I’m really glad you’re here.”

She throws her arms around me, and I wrap mine around her. I feel my neck getting wet, she’s crying.

“Sorry.” She lets go of me and wipes her tears.

“Don’t be.” I cup her cheeks and rub her tears away with my thumbs. “It’s okay to cry.”

“Harry…could I ask you to do me a massive favor? It’s going to seem really childish, and you can feel free to say no, but…would you lay with me until I fall asleep? I always have trouble sleeping in a new space for the first time.”

“Yeah, I can lay with you.”

“Thank you.” She leans in and I turn my face, her lips pecking my cheek.

“Go on, get under the blankets.”

She nods and crawls to the other side of the bed. I’m not planning to sleep in here the whole night, so I don’t bother getting under the blankets with her. I turn the light off, and keep my arms crossed behind my head. Rowan cuddles up next to me and rests her head on my chest. I let one of my arms fall around her.

“Goodnight, Harry.”

“Goodnight, Rowan.”

**

[mrzombielover]

- slow ride ch1

feat. sinner!adam x fem!hotel worker!reader

series masterlist | next chapter

warnings: NSFW, enemies to fuckbuddies, adam and reader both suck, unhealthy relationships, size kink oooops, light degradation

a/n: oh my god this is so self indulgent. something is fr wrong with me bc all my favorite men are irrevocably fucked up and toxic and emotionally damaged and would treat me like shit teehee

wc: 2.2k

“You took my shame and you took my pride / And now you gonna take me for a slowride”

When even Charlie is trepidatious about checking someone in to the hotel, you know they’ve fucked up bad.

Adam had shown up, tail between his legs, admitting something about how he’s “desperate enough to try anything,” even this “stupid delusional humiliating hotel.”

Charlie, who’s more like an angel than Adam ever was, had ultimately decided that he could stay. After a lengthy and heated discussion, she’d reminded the group that the hotel’s policy states that everyone deserves a chance at redemption, regardless of the sins they’ve committed. Considering he killed your friend, you thought that was bullshit, but it’s Charlie’s hotel at the end of the day, and you’re just along for the ride.

You like Charlie, which is why you put up with having Adam around. She’s a good person- genuinely, deep down. There’s no hidden motives in her actions. You’ve not met many good people in your life, so she’s won your respect, even if you have your doubts about the hotel’s premise.

But for as much as you love her, you briefly questioned her sanity when she asked you to keep a special eye on Adam.

“…and how exactly is that the job of treasury secretary?” You deadpan.

“Wellll…” Charlie trails off, looking away for a moment. “It isn’t really. Buuut what if I was asking as a favor, for your friend?” She clasps her hands together, giving you a smile. You have to avert your eyes from the hopeful look on her face before your resolve cracks.

“No way in hell,” You say quickly.

“Please!”

“No,”

“Pleaseee!”

You bite your lip as you think. He’s obnoxious, yes, but what’s really the worst that could happen? You close your eyes and sigh.

“…you owe me one,”

You regret accepting every day. Nobody got along with Adam. Well, nobody except for Nifty, who seemed thrilled to have a real bad boy staying in the hotel. You, however, got along with him the least of all.

For someone who’d come to the hotel in his time of need- who was in no position to ask for anything other than forgiveness- Adam sure has a smartass mouth. It seems Charlie just wants to give you a brain aneurysm, that’s why she gave you this job. Even if that wasn’t her goal, that’s certainly the stage you’re approaching, because fighting with Adam everyday is 100% going to make you pop a blood vessel.

You can’t help it. Something about him- the way he acts, the forced proximity, just gets under your skin, makes your eye twitch. He should be groveling, begging for forgiveness, putting his heart and soul into bettering himself, yet all he does is bitch and moan. Constantly complaining would be one thing, hell’s full of whiners, but he also feels the need to voice every thought he’s ever had, which often includes insults and snide remarks about those around him. You’ve never been one to take that shit- though, nobody at the hotel really does. It seems to be much worse with you two, specifically, though.

The problem comes in because, as much as you hate to admit it, you might sometimes occasionally have some things in common with him. No, you’re not quite as loud or crude or obnoxious, you don’t generally insult people for fun, but if someone deserves it?

You’ve tore into people for way less than murdering your friend, showing up on your doorstep and being a pain in your ass 24/7, especially if you’re in a particularly shitty mood. Reduced people to tears for mildly inconveniencing you, having an annoying voice, wasting food, etc etc… all of which Adam does.

Generally, you’re apathetic to what goes on around you, especially at the hotel. You’re fed, don’t have to pay rent, and can pretty much do whatever you want, so dealing with the annoying, traumatized, dramatic residents and staff is a fair trade off in your eyes. Adam should, in theory, be no different than the rest of them to you. So you cannot, for the life of you, figure out what about him makes him so much worse than the rest.

You just try not to think about him as much as possible. But when you ignore him, he just seems to get worse.

“Jesus, you don’t think it’s a bit early to start drinking?”

You mentally groan as you hear his voice, avoiding eye contact as you crack open the bottle.

“I mean, Isn’t this shithole supposed to be for rehabilitation?” You can practically hear the smirk in his voice as he opens the fridge.

“Why don’t you focus on your own rehab first, dick? Been weeks now and you’re still an asshole,” You snap, before taking a swig of your beer. He shrugs, grabbing the orange juice from the fridge and placing it on the counter. He walks past where you’re leaning on the counter to get a glass.

“I mean, damn, you didn’t even try today, huh?”He laughs.

“Why are you pickin’ a fight with me right now?” You raise your voice a little, exasperated and too hungover to deal with this.

“oh, uh, i dunno… i’m bored?” He shrugs again, looking over to you with a self satisfied smile. You groan in frustration, then sigh, forcing yourself to keep it together.

“…and you wonder why your wives left you,” you mumble with a roll your eyes, turning to quickly leave the kitchen. you don’t see his face, but judging from the sound of a crash and footsteps quickly following you into the hallway, you hit a nerve. oh, god, here we go…

“you fucking junkie bitch!” he yells after you as you stomp up the stairs.

“you’re proving my point right now!” you say over your shoulder.

“Like you have room to talk? Let’s bring up your love life, huh?!”

“oh my god shut up!” Angel yells through the door as you pass his room. “Every fuckin’ morning with you two!”

Adam ignores him, continuing to rant as he follows closely behind you, every degrading name he can think of spilling from his lips.

“…fucking whore cunt- whose not even fucking listening to me!” he says as you turn into your room. you turn, attempting to slam the door, but he sticks his foot in the gap and grabs the door, shoving it back open.

“what in the fuck is your problem today?!” you yell.

“it’s you, bitch!”

“oh my god- how do you care about anything this much? Seriously, it’s not that deep!”

you jump a little as he suddenly slaps the beer bottle out of your hands, the glass shattering loudly and the leftover beer soaking your socks. your jaw drops, outraged, and you can’t help the reflex to reach up and smack the side of his head.

“ow!” he yelps, and you raise your fists to hit him again, when-

“you- fucking bitch-!” he shouts. you cry out in surprise as he grabs your wrists and yanks you with surprising ease, shoving you roughly into the wall behind you.

theres a struggle, both grunting with the strain of pushing against each other as Adam wrestles to keep the upper hand. You go to knee him, but he moves quicker, slotting one of his legs between your own and pressing his body against yours to pin you completely against the wall.

then, something changes. he pauses, the close proximity seems to have finally registered in his brain. his eyes widen and you pause too, both panting, faces inches apart. his grip loosens, and a flicker of confusion crosses his features.

“wait, what’s-“

“shut up,” you snap suddenly. before you even realize what you’re doing, your hands are on his chest, and you’re shoving him towards your bed.

“take off your shirt,” you command as the back of his knees hit the mattress and he’s falling backwards. he quickly does as you say, looking up at you with wide eyes as you straddle him and rip your own shirt off as well. he mumbles a nice when he sees you’re not wearing a bra. you reach to tug off the sweatpants you had on, and as soon as you can kick them away Adam’s hands are on your waist and flipping you over. He hurriedly rips off the rest of his clothes before he’s back on you, leaning down to eagerly press kisses down your neck. you have to tilt your head to make room for the horns now permanently attached to his head, and you think of the irony of this situation.

the sound of fabric ripping followed immediately by two of his fingers finding your clit makes you gasp. you bite back a whimper as he begins to rub rough and sloppy circles on your clit. the pleasure doesn’t last long before he’s pulling his hand back, only to shove a finger inside your cunt quickly, and you gasp again. being so unprepared, the stretch burns a bit. fuck, has he always had such big hands? he’s gentle at first, as he works the single finger in and out of you, and once the pain subsides, he quickly adds a second one.

“Oh, fuck,” you can’t help the curse that slips past your lips, and before long you’re rocking your hips against his hand. his movements are rushed and sloppy, impatient as he stretches you out. he chuckles dryly, and you shoot him a glare.

once again, before long, he’s pulling away, and grabbing you by the shoulders to make you sit up with him. you whine involuntarily at the loss of contact, and the cocky bastard laughs again.

“So impatient, babe,” He grins.

“Shut up,” You say again, pushing him so that he’s sitting up against the bed frame. You crawl over to him, and straddle his lap. His hands find your ass, groping it roughly while you grab the base of his cock and align the tip with your entrance.

You both gasp in unison when you swiftly lower yourself to take his full length. A strangled moan escapes from your lips and you let your head fall forward to rest on his shoulder. Eyes squeezed shut, you wait so you can adjust to his size. Seriously, how had you never noticed how big he was before now? Prematurely, Adam angles his hips and suddenly thrusts up into you, making you cry out in pain and pleasure.

“Oh you like that, bitch? Huh?” He says teasingly, running his hands up and down your back before moving his hips again.

“You have seriously got to learn to be quiet,” You retort through gritted teeth, reaching up to pull his hair from the roots. He lets out a groan, followed by a more pathetic whine as you begin to move on his length.

It must be all the pent up emotion, because you’re very quickly unable to speak beyond a few curses and wanton moans. Adam however, can’t seem to stop talking. Mumbling about how good you feel- for a whore, how he didn’t think you’d be so tight, how you’re so fucking sexy he wishes he’d done this sooner.

“Ugh, Adam- shut up!” You groan as you move desperately. He whines as you pull his hair again for emphasis, biting his lip as you feel his hips snap up into yours.

“Oh, god-“ You’re squealing, back arching as you can feel your whole body tense. You’re on top, but as you grow more limp, he’s holding you upright as he roughly fucks into you. “I’m close!” You warn, and it comes out a strangled sob.

You’re so, so close. Euphoria clouds your brain, and collapse onto him as he continues to hold you up to thrust into you.

You fall backwards, and Adam follows, caging you underneath him as he chases his own release now.

“oh- fuck- don’t stop!” You’re practically screaming as your orgasm crashes over you, and you wrap your arms around and claw at Adam desperately, fingernails leaving marks on his fleshy back. You only faintly register the breathless laugh he lets out at your state as he now pounds into you.

He slams into you with an intensity that forces the air out of your lungs, and even Adam can’t form thoughts or speak anymore.

“Oh, fu-uuck, fuck, fuck, oh my god,” He can’t believe the noises that are coming from him, but he also can’t find it in himself to care when you feel this good. You’re so sensitive, and still tight from your previous climax, and he can feel your pulse in the walls of your cunt as you clench around him.

Pleasure quickly turns to overstimulation, and you moan his name again, reaching up to pull at his hair, horns, wings, anything, as tears begin to prick at your eyes. Hearing you moan his name, seeing the look on your face, knowing he’s the one doing this to you is what he needed to send him over the edge.

“o-oh my god-“ he groans, hips stuttering as he presses his body as close to yours as possible, spilling his cum deeply inside of you with an actual moan.

He stays still for a moment, both of your breathing labored, sweat making your hair stick to your foreheads and necks, but you stay holding eachother. While both your brains are still fuzzy, thoughts muddled from the aftershocks, he takes a hand up and wipes your hair away from your face, and the tears from your eyes.

Eventually, he sits up and pulls out of you, rolling over to lay next to you on the bed. Neither of you say anything, too fucked out to think of the repercussions from your actions.