#also try the shotgun part of One

[daddy-ul]

I am thinking about the ppl who got to play Lars' sparkly purple drum kit at SFMOMA. And like.

I hope they had so much FUN

[spaceratprodigy]

was thinking about somethin somethin nicky "breaking up" with iris while slow dancing with her

[strangerstilinski]

smoke me out

𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: you and eddie are friends — and really, what's a little shotgunning amongst friends? [ 7.4k ]

𝗰𝘄: friends to lovers, dubcon bc they're high, reader with a vagina & breasts, drug use (weed), smoking & shotgunning, pathetic attempts at dirty talk, unprotected sex, cream pie, and goofy eddie (always)

𝗮/𝗻: the stoner in me came out at the beginning, ngl. this is just a horny culmination of my need to shotgun with eddie and also to rub his sweaty body with my own. and yes, that one part is inspired by the gifs of the hoard scene featuring joe's tight little ass grinding away.

𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝟏𝟖+ 𝙚𝙙𝙙𝙞𝙚 𝙢𝙪𝙣𝙨𝙤𝙣 𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

It's just you and Eddie today.

You're propped up against the headboard side by side, a nest of pillows providing you both with a cushion from the uncomfortable framework behind your bed. The muted sound of James Hetfield's voice floating through your stereo speakers over a heavy clash of drums and guitar has your head bobbing in time with the beat. Eddie has long-since gone from shredding on air guitar to intently staring at the way his own ringed fingers bend toward his palm every time the pitch shifts incrementally, mentally contemplating the chord changes by ear. 

Despite the windows thrown open on either side of the room, your small apartment reeks of smoke and weed. The humid Indiana summer air filtering through the curtains is not nearly strong enough to properly air out the cramped space. It's one of those wonderfully warm days — peak summertime. Not overly hot, but enough to have your skin prickling with heat beneath a tank top and cotton shorts. 

Eddie is still lounging in a threadbare pair of checkered pajama pants and a cutoff tee, the top half of his hair tied back in a haphazard bun to lessen the weight of the thick curls sticking to his neck. 

Eddie is prone to complaining when it's hot. Or when it's cold. And also when it's rainy. Or windy. 

Point is, you're not sure why he's yet to complain about the lack of air conditioning in your apartment, but Eddie seems content as ever. It could have something to do with the little glass pipe the two of you have been passing back and forth all afternoon. The bowl on the end had been packed tight, more than enough weed to have both of you thoroughly stoned, well before it's even finished.

The ceiling fan is stirring up the faintest breeze. You've burned yourself thrice on a rogue, billowing flame while trying to light up. The circulating air keeps pushing an errant dark curl down over Eddie's face every time he dips his head to take a hit.. You've combed it back for him four times, already—God forbid he set his hair on fire. Again. You're not sure he's even noticed the way your hand lingers on that smooth strip of skin behind his ear just a little longer each time.

But you can't help it, not with the way everything's gone a little foggy at the edges. Your eyes seem to process your surroundings in near slow-motion, all while the world shines with a barely-perceptible gleam. The last twenty minutes the two of you have spent smoking have done wonders to soften the world around you. Your head is full of air in that familiarly pleasant way that leaves you feeling a bit like you might float away at any second. Like a balloon in the sky. And with the added bonus of Eddie by your side, you're entirely relaxed. Contented.  

Weak beneath the lazy weight of your high pressing in on you, you suddenly flop your weight down sideways across the bed, your head landing over Eddie's thighs. You blink slow up at him, hazy gaze focusing on the underside of Eddie's face while he brings his bony knees up from the mattress to cage you a little closer to his chest. The angle would be outrageous were you looking up at anyone else, you're sure, but Eddie..

He's so pretty.

All rogue-ish boy. Unkempt and wild, but still entirely beautiful.

You can't help the way your hand finds its way up, up, up. Your fingertips dancing across the barely-there five o'clock shadow on the edge of his jaw. You trace the hard line all the way from his chin to his ear, his stubble scratchy and wholly soothing when you lightly scrape your nails against the grain of it.

Eddie, on the other hand, has found himself entirely focused on the way gravity has moved your breasts in your new position below him. The awkward angle has carried them up and out, bra-less and soft and hypnotizing. They shift just a little every time your hand moves across his face. The tank top you've chosen to wear today is thin, indecently so, in his opinion. His brown eyes have been glued to the obvious outline of your nipples beneath the fabric since the moment you'd greeted him at the door, and his ogling has only gotten less subtle as his high settled in. He risks another longing glance down past your collar bones, reddened eyes dragging over the shape of your puffy nipples hidden underneath.

You're thumbing softly at the coarse hairs just under his chin when Eddie gives in to impulse and  purses his lips to blow a cool breath of air over your neck and chest. You can't help but giggle as your skin reacts, goosebumps spreading down your arms, and unbeknownst to you, your nipples tightening into semi-hard peaks beneath your top.

They're not the only things that are suddenly semi-hard. 

Eddie smacks his lips and swallows the drool that he's embarrassed to admit has pooled beneath his tongue. His ring-clad knuckles brush the side of your breast as he reaches to take the forgotten bowl from the blankets. 

He attempts to gather himself as he takes another hit. He holds it for a count of five and then exhales a cloud of smoke whilst urging himself to imagine something utterly repulsive.. His uncle in the shower, roadkill, the way his balls itch uncomfortably after he plays a gig at The Hideout in too-tight jeans — anything that might keep him from popping an unwanted boner while you've got your pretty, unassuming head resting in his lap.

Your fingers are now trailing lightly over the light freckles dotting the bridge of Eddie's nose. His skin is a little pink from yesterday's sun, despite the number of times you'd physically dragged him from Steve's pool to apply sunscreen to his steadily-reddening cheeks. The previous day outside has Eddie's barely-there freckles appearing far more visible than usual, speckled along the round tip of his nose, his cheeks, even the crinkles around his eyes. You think they make him look even more handsome, boyish perhaps, but handsome all the same.

Through the warm fog in your brain, you find yourself smiling up at him. A dopey grin on your face as you poke at the soft apples of his cheeks — Like he's your own personal plaything. Your heart ticks excitedly when the corner of Eddie's lips quirk up at you in response, his pupils blown wide, surrounded by a thin ring of molten chocolate. His teeth flash with his sweet little chuckle of amusement, cheeks dimpling beneath the sparsest area of his stubble.

“You've got freckles,” You comment quietly. “They're cute.” You smack your lips once, mouth dry with dehydration, “I like 'em.. 'nd your stubble, too. Feels nice.”

“Thanks, sweetheart,” Eddie chuckles, stoned and more than a bit flattered under the weight of your attention. His chest puffs up a little proudly, his words flowing without any real thought behind them, “Made it all myself.. 'S hard work.. But, uh, y'know. Someone's gotta do it.”

He slips his lighter between two of his fingers and holds the bowl off to the side so that he can drag the fingers of his free hand softly, delicately, over your hair where it's fanned out over his lap. He doesn't want to mess it up, especially doesn't want one of his rings to get caught and pull. But it looks so soft, and through the haze, he can't fight the impulse to simply.. touch. So gently. 

His attention seems intently focused on the careful motions of his fingers along your hair, and you take advantage of his distraction by finally allowing your gaze to drop to his mouth. Eddie keeps slowly rolling and biting his lips between his teeth. Canines dig into the flesh before he's scrunching his nose and pursing his lips, only to scrape his teeth over them again in a never-ending loop. You doubt he's even aware he's doing it but it's beginning to make his lips swell, the skin darkening to a brighter shade of pink from the abuse.

All at once, your trance is broken when his tongue pokes out to wet his smoke-dry lips. Your mind flashes suddenly with an idea. 

The absence of both the Hellfire crew and your other friends was truly a rarity. You hardly ever got to be alone with Eddie like this. You'd tried to ask him out once upon a time- No, not just once. Twice. Twice you'd asked him on a date — both of which had somehow ended in group excursions rather than romantic one-on-one time, how it had happened two separate times, you still weren't sure — and at this point you'd given up entirely. Because maybe it just wasn't meant to be. It was okay, really, you'd almost grown content in your longing. 

But, the way Eddie's lips shone lightly after his tongue stroked over them.. It had your brain reeling with possibility. If you were ever going to get his mouth on yours in private, even just for a fleeting moment, it didn't seem possible that an opportunity so seamless would ever present itself again.

It was worth a shot.

“I want another hit.” You tell him, licking at your own lips as brown eyes refocus on your face.

“M'kay, well, you're prob'ly gonna need to sit up for that, sweets,” Eddie points out, entirely unaware of the way your tummy always swoops when the thoughtless pet name falls from his lips. “Unless you were really lookin' t'get a face full'a ash.. In which case, you can definitely keep layin-” A burst of air leaves his nose with a laugh of surprise, repeating his own words to himself with a sweetly boyish giggle, “Sounds like ass. Face full'a ass. Now, that I'd like-”

Normally you'd join in on the joke. Poke a little fun at him for saying such a thing. Freak. You'd say it fondly, with an eye roll to go with it, maybe you'd throw in a half-serious offer involving his face and your backside- But you don't say any of those things. You can't. You're in the middle making the not-so-carefully crafted scene in your head a reality — And, can't he see that? Why is he trying to distract you? 

“Ash. Riiight, uh huh. Well,” You pause, feign innocence before your next words. “Maybe.. Maybe you could shotgun it to me n' that way I can stay right here?” You suggest cautiously, before adding as an afterthought, “If you want, I mean.” 

Any amusement is immediately stripped from Eddie's expression. He spends a few achingly long seconds blinking down at you with heavy eyelids, gaze hooded and distant. His weed-hazy brain takes a moment to actually process your words, but then, just as suddenly as he'd zoned out, he's nodding and bringing the glass pipe back up to his lips, one hand cupped around the end to shield the flame from the path of the ceiling fan.

The lighter clicks and swishes quietly as he lights up. He lowers the bowl after a long second, ringed hand dipping beneath your head and guiding you oh-so gently to arch your neck upward, until he can lean down and press his mouth down softly against yours. 

That first soft brush of his lips has your whole body thrumming. Butterflies begin a rampage in your stomach, so much so that you have to actively remind yourself to part your lips beneath his.

He presses down just a bit more, lips squishing solidly to your own parted ones and sending your heart racing dangerously, but then he's exhaling the smoke into your waiting mouth. You breathe it in as it comes, letting the warmth of it flow from his body and into your own.

He watches you intently as he moves to pull back and sit upright again. Watches the way you seal your mouth shut, lips rolling between your teeth while your lashes flutter against the apples of your cheeks. You allow the smoke to simply sit in your lungs for a long moment before relaxing your chest and exhaling through your nose, releasing the diluted cloud up into the air between you. 

Eddie blinks down at you with heavy lids. There's a long moment of silence between you. It's a palpable thing — not quite awkward or tense, but brimming with an unexpected energy that neither one of you can quite decipher. It's charged. Something like static electricity, or the tether between two magnets of an opposite charge. It nearly tingles in the breadth of space between you.

Eddie feels it. He wonders if you feel it too.

“D'you want another hit?” He asks after a minute, his voice scratchy.

You merely nod your head, not trusting your own voice, and the movement has you refocusing suddenly on the soft press of his calloused fingers where they linger against the nape of your neck. You watch with bated breath as Eddie brings the glass pipe in his hand back to his lips again, letting his gentle grip fall from the top of your spine for just a moment so that he can flick the flame of the lighter over the tiny pocket at the end of the pipe once again. 

Eddie drops the items in his hands to your bedside table carelessly once he's gotten a good lungful of smoke. He leans down in a faster movement this time than he had done before, his hand dipping back beneath your head in a flash to bring your mouths together again.

His lips are dry against your own, but so soft. You're not sure if it's the high or simply Eddie, but the barely-there scratch of stubble over his upper lip is delicious. It feels so good it makes you a little lightheaded. 

Your mouth slips open, inhaling as he exhales. You feel the warmth of the smoke entering your mouth, taste the bitterness of it on your tongue as the two of you fit together like puzzle pieces.

You're preparing to let your craned neck fall back to his lap, to close your lips in an effort to keep the smoke inside of your lungs — but then Eddie is tightening his grip on the back of your head incrementally, and instead of pulling back, he slots your lips together more firmly. Your heart skips in surprise and you can practically hear the blood pumping in your ears. Your brain seems to white out for a moment, unable to focus on anything that isn't Eddie's soft lips moving tentatively against your own. 

A thin cloud of smoke escapes into the air around you as your mouths begin to move together in synchrony. You can't hold back a soft gasp of surprise when Eddie's tongue swipes warmly across the seam of your lips. Your heart pounds, your mouth opening beneath his again without hesitation. 

The kiss that follows is a frenzied rush of lips and teeth and tongue. Hunger blossoms in the pit of your stomach. But it somehow manages to feel so languid, so sensual beneath the relaxed fogginess of your high. 

Your back arches, shoulders lifting from Eddie's thigh to meet him more than halfway. The movement prompts his hands to find your hips and Eddie is tugging you upright in a flash. Suddenly you're wedged between his legs, practically in his lap. Your knees curling around his waist as he leans farther into your space, chasing your warmth until barely any space exists between you. 

Your hands slide idly along his body in a slow trail. Each scrape against your palms feels divine. Every inch of him feels like silk under your fingers. The smooth, worn cotton of his tshirt. The tight ringlets of curls at the nape of his neck, a little damp with sweat. The soft give of warm muscle beneath your eager hands on his chest, his arms, his hips. You attempt to memorize every inch of him, your limbs seemingly moving of their own accord, touch-hungry and weightless all at once. 

He's so warm and- God, you want to be inside of him. You think you might want to bury yourself beneath his skin and make a home there. He smells like heaven, like sweat and weed and masculine body wash. Your fingertips drag leisurely along the length of his inked arms, inching slow back toward his neck like you have all the time in the world to explore every inch of his body. 

Your touch is scorching across his skin, overwhelming and seemingly everywhere at once but simultaneously not enough. It's like all of his wildest dreams have come to life, and Eddie can't fucking believe that this is happening. That you're practically in his lap, your tongue in his mouth, legs draped around his waist, hands tucked beneath the gaping sleeves of his muscle tee to roam freely and grope at the exposed skin of his hips.

Eddie's head cranes just a bit to the side in an attempt to deepen the kiss, licking his way deeper. His own arms curl around your waist, tightening at the curve of your spine to tug your body flush against his. The action has a needy noise pushing its way into his mouth as your tongues explore one another with warm, wet licks. He groans at a particularly slow curl of your tongue, he swears he feels it in his fucking balls. 

He's so turned on he thinks his dick might explode. Eddie changes your position in another quick movement, holding you flush to his chest before he's directing you to lie back against the mattress and slotting himself right there  between your thighs. 

Despite the way your head has gone a little fuzzy from lack of oxygen, you can't find it in yourself to pull away from him. All you can do is slide your hands from Eddie's shoulders and up into his hair. Tingles shoot from your fingertips as they slide into his frizzy curls, yanking some of them free from his bun just to feel the way they tangle around your fingers. A hot flush of arousal pulses in your cunt at the satisfied noise that Eddie lets out when you tug lightly, and that noise alone has you suddenly frantic. 

You can't get enough of him; his sounds, his taste, the press of his warm body between your thighs.  

The hand he isn't using to support himself against the mattress rubs along your waist of its own accord, his fingertips slipping beneath the hem of your shirt to brush featherlight over your skin. You swear sparks erupt in his wake. 

You pull back just enough to murmur his name desperately against his lips, but the syllables are barely out before you're licking into his mouth again with unbridled hunger. Eddie's groan meets your ears in response to your weak plea — what you're begging for, you're not quite sure, but then his hips drop against yours with a slow roll and that- 

Oh, that is exactly what you needed.

You can't help the soft whimper that falls into his mouth. The warm line of his half-hard cock pressing against your cunt through the thin barrier of your pajama bottoms has you dizzy. Eddie grinds hips against yours in another slow roll, clothed erection pressing soft into your cunt and prompting the seam on your shorts to nudge at your clit. You both groan in sync, parted lips barely brushing through the breathless sounds.

You also can't help the way you lift your hips in time with each grind of his length against you. The warm weight of his balls squishes against the fabric of your shorts every time his pelvis drags over your own. The thin cotton feels far too thick of a barrier currently between you and his cock. 

Ringed fingers sneak up a little farther beneath your shirt, his hand tightening over your naked breast, and you keen at the feeling. He alternates between brushing the calloused pad of his thumb over your nipple and covering the area with his palm to give it a soft squeeze. His lips fall slack against your own, too busy focussing on the way his fingers release and then grope again and again, the kind of distracted intrigue that could only be a result of his high.

A soft whine falls from your lips after a minute of putting up with his lazy fondling. You tug at the hair between your fingers again and nip encouragingly at his lips in a silent plea for a kiss. His mouth finally resumes moving against your own, and you gratefully allow him to direct the kiss. You give him full control of the pace, which turns out to be a give and take of desperate licks into your mouth followed by gentle caresses of his spit-slick lips against your own. Lips smack each time you part, tongues sliding together wetly, heaving breaths rush in and out of your noses as you both attempt to pull as much oxygen in as humanly possible in an effort to not break apart.  

Your fingers find the knob of his spine, and you tug on the collar at the back of his shirt in silent question. Eddie answers by pushing back up on his knees to yank the fabric over his head in a quick movement. His tattooed chest heaves with slightly labored breaths and you watch him with rapt attention, your eyes drawn to the tiny patch of hair nestled between his pecs and lightly dusted around his nipples. Then your focus drops to the thicker trail that leads down into the waistband of his pants. The pale skin beneath the hair glistens with sweat, and good God you want to taste it-

But you're only granted a few seconds to ogle his torso before Eddie is dipping back down to catch your lips with his, your mouths immediately separating just enough that he can strip you of your own top. 

As soon as your naked chest is exposed to him, Eddie is dragging his lips down your body in a slow trail. He pauses for a moment to kiss a spot just below your ear, his voice raspy when he speaks, “You good? This alright?” He checks quietly. 

You reach up to tangle a hand in his hair again, a breathless sigh leaving your lips as you feel the warmth of his mouth pressing against your neck, “Good, yeah. Very, very alright.” 

Eddie wastes no time, his lips trailing lower. He leaves a series of wet, open-mouthed kisses to your exposed breasts, relishing in the way you react to his mouth, the way your spine arches up from the mattress at the attention. 

“Jesus H. Christ. 's incredible,” Eddie mumbles, his words slurred against your chest as he bites and sucks at the skin on the side of your breast. His head has gone hazy with lust, his fingers slipping beneath your body to grab a desperate fistful of your ass, “Hand to God. I swear, I've never fuckin' seen more perfect-”

You interrupt the filth spewing from his mouth with an entirely unintentional moan, slightly overwhelmed by the influx of sensations. His praise in your ears. The feeling of his fingertips sinking into the plush of your ass. The prominent bulge in his bottoms dragging against you. 

Eddie curses under his breath, taking your nipple into his mouth and biting down softly before immediately soothing his tongue over it in apology.

Your brain is a little fuzzy. Sweetly faded and hazy at the edges, but somehow, each touch and sound between the two of you feels heightened — Magnified and all that more intense. As if your high has somehow managed to mute everything on earth except for Eddie. 

You release his hair in favor of sliding your hands down his back to grope the globes of his ass over his pajama bottoms while his hips continue to rock forward in a dizzying rhythm. A knead to the flesh there has Eddie whining sinfully against your tongue and your pussy fucking throbs in response.

"Baby," Eddie pants into your mouth, his voice nearly cracking with need, "Take 'em off, please- Baby? c'n we-?"

He doesn't finish the question but you nod, nose brushing against his as your hands slip underneath the waistband of his pants. Your fingers are very nearly trembling while you shove the fabric down below the curve of his ass. 

You feel the moment that his cock springs free and you immediately have to crane your neck down to take a peek — The urge to see him is too strong. And God is it a glorious sight. 

Flushed red at the tip and achingly hard— Jesus it's thick, gloriously thick. His pubes are dark and untamed around the base, hiding just how big he truly is. It's the most gorgeous cock you've ever fucking seen and it's bumping softly against the crotch of your shorts, wetting the fabric with smeared pre-cum that Eddie's fucking leaked over the head. He's wet with need, same as you, and the thought makes you feel fucking insane. 

Which means you ogle perhaps longer than you should. 

A needy grumble rises in Eddie's throat that has you snapping out of it suddenly and bringing a hand up into the narrow space between your faces. It takes a moment with the dryness of smoke lingering on your tongue, but you manage to gather enough spit to lick a wet stripe up your palm and fingers, and then you're reaching down to curl your fingers around him. 

Half-naked is practically Eddie's default state when he's stoned or drunk, you've drooled over just the outline of him in his underwear more times than you can count, but you're still somehow surprised by the sheer size of him in your hand. The weight of him. Long and curved just a little to the right — so silky and so soft under the slippery glide of your fist. You work your hand slow over him, rewarded with a beautiful little groan of thanks from the man above you, the sound of it guttural as you begin to jerk him with slick strokes. 

“Ohhh my god, that- that's, j-jesus-” His voice fucking cracks. 

Eddie's hips jump as he fucks into your fist. His eyes roll back, a little delirious just from the sight of your smaller hand wrapped around him. You switch from long strokes in favor of shorter ones where you can focus your attention on his tip, your thumb swiping back and forth over the head of his cock with each flick of your wrist. Eddie doesn't even recognize the sounds leaving his mouth. The combination of his high and the wet glide of your hand is too maddening to care. 

You make your own small noise of amazement that has Eddie coming back to himself suddenly. He yanks your shorts down your thighs with an impatient huff, pulling away from you just long enough to discard the last of both of your clothing before he's caging you back against the mattress once again. And then his lips are making their way to your neck, kissing and sucking lightly between these oh-so pretty little groans against your throat, his hips bucking restlessly into your own all the while. 

You give an eager cant of your hips, feet pressing into the mattress until the tip of Eddie's cock brushes the seam of your cunt. Eddie makes another sweet little noise of surprise that has you draping an arm around his neck, your face pressing into his shoulder as you repeat the movement with intention. 

You want him so bad your pussy fucking aches. 

“Ed, can we, please?” You whisper desperately into his skin. 

The question is barely out before he's nodding against your throat, bracing his knees and lining himself up with your hole. His hips push forward until just the tip of his cock presses into the wet heat of your cunt, but good lord-

He's so big. It feels a bit like he's splitting you right down the middle, but it's so good. He rocks his hips forward slowly, each little push stretching you wider than you thought possible. Every time you think he can't possibly have more to give you, he slips in a little deeper. He reaches so far inside of you that your eyes roll back, a long, drawn-out moan tearing past your lips at the slow stretch, the dull fullness behind your navel that you can nearly feel in your throat. 

“Oh, fuck.” You whine breathlessly, hands scrambling for purchase along his skin. Your nails bite into the sweat-slick muscles of his back before slipping lower still. You find the dimples at the base of his spine, nails raking over the pale white skin of his hips and ass. Your whole body goes lax underneath him as the wiry bush of his pubes finally meets your own. 

The noise Eddie releases into the curve of your shoulder borders on a whimper, his breath hot against your skin as he rocks his hips forward again and again. His weight pushes you deeper into the mattress, his cock grinding desperately against the absolute deepest parts of you. He gasps with each nudge of your cervix against the head of his cock, practically humping you through the haze of his high as he tries to give you time to adjust to his size. 

“Y'good?” Eddie pants into your neck, words slurred together with need. He feels half a second from fucking begging when your legs spread further, your thighs falling back toward the mattress and allowing him even deeper and holy fucking shit. “Ohh, c'n I move?” He’s all but whining now, “Please. God, please can I-” 

“Uh huh, 'm good, 'm good, I-” Your assurances cut off with a wail when he begins to pull back and drive in again with a sharp snap of his hips. Your fingers tighten where his hairy thighs meet his ass, nails biting into taut muscle in an attempt to ground yourself. “Ohmygod.” You whine, eyes glazing over with the heat that pools behind your navel with each thrust.

“Y'feel so good.” Eddie mumbles, slack mouth pressed to the sensitive spot below your ear. 

He pushes up on his elbows, but only enough that you can gape up at him with hooded eyes, brows furrowed with just how fucking good he feels. 

“Fuucck, y're pretty,” Eddie groans between deep thrusts, his words drawing a moan from your lips. He brings one hand to your cheek, thumb pushing into the plush cushion of your swollen lips before he's covering them with his own in a messy kiss, “Y're so hot. So. fucking. perfect.” 

His words are spoken quietly against your lips between thrusts, his nose squishing your own in close proximity, and you draw him back down to your mouth in a hungry kiss, teeth clashing. 

The pace Eddie has set is intoxicating, pulling nearly all the way out before slamming his hips forward to fill you up again with deep thrusts. Your moans are loud, wanton and uncontrollable under the haze of your high, only somewhat muffled by Eddie's mouth covering yours. 

In a frenzy, you find yourself kissing away the sweat beading on his upper lip. You lave your tongue softly over the light prickle of stubble at his cupid’s bow, but you're only granted a moment to relish in the scratch of it before Eddie is nosing at your cheek and urging you back into a scorching, albeit distracted, kiss. His fingers wrap around your upper thigh to hitch your leg a little higher on his hip, rocking his hips forward again and managing to hit impossibly deeper inside of you. He drives into that spongey spot behind your navel and you writhe-

“Oh-” You gasp into his mouth in surprise, head gone fuzzy as he continues fucking your at the new angle, “Eddie!  I, fuck-” 

He responds with a groan. His lips leave yours to forge a trail of biting kisses over your skin. He wants to kiss you everywhere. He wishes he could kiss every inch of your skin and still keep fucking you. You're weak to do anything but lie there and take it and it makes Eddie feel dizzy with power. Your arms curl around his shoulders again, head thrown back against the bed in ecstasy. 

Eddie's mouth is seemingly everywhere, lips sucking at the underside of your jaw, tongue leaving a wet trail over your collarbones and throat, teeth sinking into the curve of your shoulder. Each new sensation sends another spark of arousal down your spine, sends your brain farther into the clouds. 

It’s almost too much. It has you tightening your thighs around his hips and rolling sideways over the bed to switch positions, his cock slipping free as you find yourself straddling his waist with only a slight wobble from the momentum. Eddie makes a quiet noise of surprise and petulance, but it melts into a grateful, high-keening moan when you sink back down onto him. Your hips press flush to his as you set a new, slower rhythm of your own making. 

“Oh, Jesus,” Eddie whines in amazement, hands tracing over the curve of your waist and breasts as you rock back and forth onto him, “Shit. You look so good like this.” His praise comes out through heaving breaths.

You rest one hand supportively over the sparse hair at the center of his chest, the fingers of your other hand trailing up the skin of his arm until you can tangle your hands together against the mattress. You grind your hips down harder, deeper, and Eddie groans, his hips bucking up unconsciously to meet you halfway. 

Your forearms fall on either side of his head. Your weight pressing down against his chest has Eddie immediately fisting your ass and thighs in a bruising grip to help guide your movements. You lean down to bury your face in his neck as you slide back and forth along his length in a slow rhythm, your legs already aching with exertion even with the help of his strong arms.

The loud slapping of skin meeting skin every time the backs of your thighs meet his own rings loudly in your ears. Your staggered breathing falls against his lightly stubbled jaw, lips leaving distracted kisses in apology for the way your hot breath fans out against his already sweaty neck. 

“God, Eds,” You moan into his skin, sucking a mark against his throat while he uses his tight grip on your hips to fuck you down onto himself, “You feel. So f-fucking good-” 

You let out a yelp as Eddie twists your bodies again with a grunt, and suddenly his body above yours once more, his hand on your shoulder as he sinks back inside of you.

“Need it faster. Harder.” He pants, “That okay?” 

You nod, head rubbing against the mattress, “Yes. Please, yeah-” 

Eddie trails his fingers down the back of your thigh and guides you to wrap your legs around his waist, and then he’s fucking into you in quick, punishing thrusts. Your moans only increase in volume at the change of pace, your whole body seemingly flushed with heat. Your hands scrape desperately over Eddie's back as he pounds into you, nails cutting into pale skin. 

“Shit,” Eddie groans, his forehead dropping down against yours in an unexpectedly tender movement, though it does little to take away from the sound of your bedframe creaking, the wet squelch every time he drives back into you. “God, 're you close?” He asks desperately.

“Uh-huh.” You confirm immediately, brain hazy and muscles tensing with each hard thrust that brings you closer and closer to your peak. 

Eddie's nose rubs soft along your cheekbone as he nods, joining your mouths in a kiss that's more breath and tongue than anything else. You struggle to focus on moving your mouth against his as your orgasm begins to creep into the corners of your vision. Eddie's weight drops down onto one elbow to allow him the stability to reach in between you. His hand settles over your pelvis, his fingers swiping messy over your clit as his quick thrusts grow shakier. 

“C'mon, sweetheart,” Eddie murmurs against your lips, “C'mon, I really-” He's cut off by the groan that rumbles up his throat when you pulse around him, the sound entirely animalistic. “Goddd. N-need you t' fuckin' cum, baby, please.” 

His voice has gone husky with arousal and exertion, the sound has your eyes rolling back. It only takes a handful more thrusts like that, with the help of his fingertips tracing light circles over your clit. Your whole body tenses as your orgasm crashes over you, legs clamping around his hips. You whine brokenly in his mouth, a sharp gasp immediately following as you scrape your fingers down his shoulders, your whole body shaking as you come undone around him. 

The increased tightness of your muscles spurs on Eddie’s own orgasm within a few thrusts, and then he's following you over the edge. He buries his face in the curve of your neck as he cums with a whine, hips stuttering twice before burying deep. His weight crushes you to the mattress, your back arching at the warmth of his release filling you. Your eyes water with the strength of your orgasm, Eddie's hips unconsciously grinding into your own as he rides out his own, whimpering into your ear with the aftershocks. 

You both remain unmoving for a long minute, sweaty chests heaving as you struggle to catch your breath and come back to yourself. You card gently through Eddie's sweaty hair, his curls having long since broken free from the hair tie that had once held them back from his face. You fingers trail thoughtlessly through the damp tresses while Eddie's hot breath fans out over your neck. His dick twitches inside you when your fingertips scrape softly against his scalp and you struggle to bite back a quiet laugh of amusement. Your muscles tense even with the smothered laugh, and Eddie groans as your cunt pulses around him. 

He huffs when he catches the look on your face, entirely dramatic as he begins to roll away, but he only maintains that feigned annoyance for about half a second before he's cackling madly and dragging you into his chest. He nips sharply at your shoulder as he tugs you into his sweaty chest and buries his face in your hair, fingers beginning to trace soft shapes over the skin of your hip. 

“You feelin' okay?” He murmurs after a moment. 

“Yeah,” You confirm with a sigh, already relaxing into his touch. Your brain is pleasantly dulled from the combination of the lingering high and your orgasm. “Yeah, 'm great.” 

“Oh, same, yeah. Super great. I just, uh-” Eddie pauses and you find yourself focussing on the gentle caress of his fingers along your skin, “I wanted to check, y'know.. Make sure you weren't havin' any.. I dunno, just, regrets-”

You're readjusting in a flash so that you can look at him directly, your head settling onto his bicep as your eyes flick between his, “I don't. Regret it, I mean.” 

It feels much too serious of a conversation to be having considering how deliriously high you currently feel, the previous strenuous activity did little to clear your head, but you mean it with every fiber of your being. You've been hung up on Eddie for what feels like forever now, the thought of him outright regretting the events of the last hour- It has you feeling sick, stomach sinking and twisting and souring all at once.

Eddie's throat bobs as he swallows, “Just, I mean.. Y're real stoned and- Shit. I, fuck. I probably shouldn't've-”

“Eddie,” You cut him off, feeling desperate with the need to reassure him, “You smoked just as much as I did—probably more. I-I wanted this. I wanted it, like, really bad. Unless..” Your heart drops, “Do.. Do you regret-?”

“No!” Eddie disagrees immediately, and vehemently — With urgency to correct you. “No. No, sweetheart, I do not regret it. Could never regret you. I mean, that was- Shit, I've been wanting to do that since-”

Your hand finds the warmth of his chest, fingers scraping at the small tattoo there, “You have?” 

Eddie nods his head against the blankets, sweaty curls sticking up every which way around his head like a messy halo, “Yeah.” 

“Does that mean.. I mean, would you maybe wanna do it again sometime? But, like, when we're not high as all hell?” 

Eddie's dimpled grin has an embarrassingly wild burst of butterflies erupting inside of you, “Yeah. Yeah, I really do.”

You lay like that for a while, pressed together despite the heat. His fingers wander over your palms, tracing the lines there while you watch the way his rings shift. Your naked bodies separated only by a thin layer of sweat. The ceiling fan pushing light waves of blessedly cool air over your skin. 

After a few minutes Eddie suddenly tears himself out of your grip, and he does it so abruptly that your brain is hardly able to comprehend the loss of him. He lets out a quiet yelp of distress and nearly collapses face-first into the blankets in a mad scramble toward your legs. He manhandles you until you're sprawled on your back, pushing your thighs apart before flopping entirely ungracefully onto his belly in the narrow space he's made between them. 

As you push up onto your elbows to peer down at him, Eddie is simply stroking his fingers soft up and down the length of your cum-soaked folds. His eyes are alight with wonder while he watches his own spend begin to leak out. One of his thumbs catches it as it falls, and he pulls his hand back for just a moment to get a better look at the pearlescent mixture of your combined cum. 

“What're you doing?” You giggle after a long moment of simply watching him.

Eddie's head snaps up with such surprise it looks as if he might've forgotten you were even there, if such a thing were possible. 

“Just, uh.. Admiring my handiwork.” He grins like he's all-too pleased with himself, dimples poking into his cheeks. 

“It's our handiwork, actually,” You correct playfully, “Half of that's mine, and- No, wait. Actually, 's all mine now.” You tell him triumphantly.

His eyes narrow in confusion and you redirect your gaze pointedly. His attention follows your own, eyes flicking briefly toward his own hand, where the cum has begun to drip slow down his thumb toward the meat of his palm. 

“What, this?” He questions in amusement. 

“Yes that.” You tell him with a frown, “'s mine.” You have to bite back an honest-to-god cackle at the entirely contrived look of betrayal on his face. “Put it back.” You challenge. 

Eddie's eyes roll in irritation as he repeats your words mockingly, his voice thrown high in an exceptionally poor imitation of your own, but he does dutifully drop his hand down between your thighs again to attempt to push the cum back inside you. 

He looks pleased as punch once he's done. He looks at your cunt with a dopey grin on his face, cheeks still pink with exertion and hair wild. 

“Don't miss me too much, pretty. A'right? I'll be seein' you again real soon.” Eddie murmurs softly, eyes never once leaving your cunt. He punctates his words by pressing a gentle kiss to your mound, just a hair's breadth from your clit. 

And then that dumb, dazed smile takes over his face again. 

You squint down at him, “Was.. Were you talking to me or my-”

“Was talkin' to this pretty pussy.” Eddie says matter of factly, stroking his hand over the coarse hairs between your thighs in the way one might pet an animal. 

“Okay.” You manage, laughter preventing you from saying anything else. 

Eddie tugs a large chunk of loose curls across his face and lays his cheek to your upper thigh. He stays like that for a moment, hidden behind the curtain of his hair, big brown eyes blown about as wide as he can manage through his high.

 “..Do you still wanna fuck me?” 

He pouts. It's ridiculous. It's adorable.

You can't pretend to mull it over for more than a few seconds, your cheeks ache with the need to smile. He makes you so happy you feel borderline deranged. 

Your lips quirk up even as you sigh dramatically, “Regrettably? Yes.”  

He fucking cheers. 

He drums his hands enthusiastically against your thighs and yells so loud in victory that all you can do is laugh and cover your ears until he's finished. 

You don't regret it, not a goddamn bit.

[rhaenyratargcryen]

you're my shotgun lover and i want it all | tyler owens (twisters)

masterlist ❈

summary: Every once in a while, the two of you will get a little too drunk, stay until last call, sneak back to your motel room, and fuck. Nobody knows – at least you don’t think they do – and you never talk about it when you’re sober. Tyler will generally stay until you fall asleep, but he’s always gone when you get up the next day. Only once has he woken up in bed with you the next morning, and you’ve never made that mistake again. There isn’t a name for what you feel for him, you don’t think, and you can’t tell what he thinks of the arrangement. Clearly he likes it, or he wouldn’t be making eyes at you from across three people’s laps as you pull these peanuts from their shells. author's note: i...wrote this...in one.......single......afternoon. my fingers hurt anyway he's so hot i have had a crush on glen powell since 2018 (set it up supremacy) but this movie reawakened something in me. i should probably watch top gun now

pairing: tyler owens x f!reader word count: 9,123 (...oopsie) warnings/tags: pWp (with, y'all!), alternate universe: canon divergence, friends to lovers, friends with benefits

also cross-posted to ao3 okay love you bye xoxo your comments and reblogs are appreciated but not required i will love you all the same i hope u like !!!! <3

all characters are 18+ these are 18+ activities minors pls do not interact my eye is twitching as i write this 

It has been one hell of a week.

The tornadic activity has been off the charts – more storms built up under ideal conditions for weather hell-bent on destruction in a multiple-day stretch than you can remember ever tracking before. Your team had obviously been up for the chase, but now that the storms have passed, and the sun shines on the cleanup efforts, you can’t help but wish you’d chosen a different life path. You love what you do, but God, were you tired. Blisters have formed on the palms of your hands despite the gloves you’d donned. You could practically feel the knots forming in your neck. You shovel one more load of leaf litter before heaving the blade into the ground and leaning against it. Across from you, a backhoe is demolishing and excavating the remains of a house.

You close your eyes and try to just let the sun warm your face, thinking about how fast it can all just be gone. Mother Nature’s a beautiful force, but she can be cruel.

“Hey, don’t be slowin’ down on me,” Tyler jokes, clapping a hand between your shoulder blades. You hadn’t heard him approach, and his voice has startled you, pulling you from your thoughts. “We’re ‘bout halfway done with our part, I think.”

“No,” you reply, swiping the back of your arm across your forehead, trying in vain to clear your bangs from your eyes, but they won’t budge. Tyler reaches up and, almost as if he isn’t even thinking about it, takes the unruly pieces of hair between his thumb and forefinger and tucks it behind your ear, underneath the temple of your sunglasses, to make sure it stays this time. The action is so intimate it sends a flush crawling up your neck. You chance a look around to make sure no one else has seen. “Not slowin’ down, I promise. Just thinking about how lucky we are to be alive. How sad it is that all these people just lost everything.”

You’ve known Tyler since the two of you were in college together, fast friends who’d stuck together through a lot that could've put a strain on any other relationship, although you hadn’t studied meteorology – you’d been in school to be a librarian. 

One night, he’d asked you to stay up and help him with a lab he’d missed for one of his classes, and he loves to say he knew it then – that you were hooked – but you were too far along in your degree to do anything about it now. Switching from an arts degree to one in STEM? You’d have had to start over from scratch. 

Tyler had formed his team while you were in grad school and he was working as a cowboy for the rodeo back home, and you’d dropped out without a second thought when he asked you to be a founding member, to travel the country with him every tornado season. Said he wouldn’t – couldn’t – think about doing it without you. You’ve been riding with him ever since.

The two of you share everything, always have, and sometimes you wonder if it might be too much for the professional relationship you’re supposed to have.

“That’s what we’re here for,” Tyler grins, the hand still glued to your back rubbing gently, sending goosebumps across your skin under your shirt. “To help ‘em feel like their luck is turnin’.”

Always the optimist, Tyler Owens. He clears his throat, the hand on your back pulling away, and steps slightly closer to you.

“One of the folks over there gave these to me,” he says, gesturing to a group of people gathering in front of a house that looks like something had tried to suck it into the ground from dead center. “I saved their cat from their screened-in porch, poor thing had been yowling all night apparently. Know these’re your favorite, so, here you go. I think you earned it.”

You take the tin from him and open it, your mouth instantly watering at the sight of the small, round butter cookies inside. “God,” you groan, picking one up and taking a bite, savoring it over your tongue. You can feel Tyler watching you carefully. “Thank you. You get me.”

“Do we get cookies, Tyler?”

Lily’s voice sounds from your left, and you glance over at her. The shit-eating look on her face tells you she did see Tyler fix your hair for you. Your stomach somersaults.

“If you’re good,” Tyler says, smirking, “after the sun sets, we can head back to the motel, find some shitty bar, and drinks’ll be on me, okay? How’s that sound?”

Lily whoops, turning to Dani, who’d since appeared beside her, and the two snicker and fist bump. 

“You need any help over here?”

You look back at Tyler, cupping one hand above your eyes to shield them from the sunlight. Despite your glasses, it shines bright from directly behind him, and you can hardly stand to look at him. 

“Yeah, I’m good,” you murmur in reply, bending down to toss some siding that had been blown off one of the houses on this street into the wheelbarrow you’ve been using. “You should go see what Boone’s up to – I don’t think anyone has seen him in a minute.”

No doubt Boone was hiding somewhere with one of the breakfast burritos Lily and Dani have been rolling since early that morning, seeing how long he can get away with not doing his part. He’s a good guy, but the manual labor side of the job isn’t really his thing.

“Eh, he’s better off wherever he is,” Tyler laughs, and a small smile takes over your face, too. “Hey, you sure you’re okay? You don’t need a break? You can take a minute to yourself, no one’ll judge. I know how this can all get to you a little more than it gets to everyone else.”

You know him well enough to know he’s not calling you weak-stomached, that he’s genuinely concerned for how you feel, but he’s right. It does all get to you. Settling in to help survivors of these natural disasters is just something that comes with the chasing – there isn’t one without the other for you and the rest of the crew. You nod, glancing back up at him. 

“I’m okay, Tyler. Go off and be the face of the operation – you don’t have to worry about me.”

Tyler’s eyes narrow, his gaze shifting between your eyes, trying to find evidence you’re withholding the truth from him, but he seems to find nothing. With a minute tip of his head, he turns to resume working through a long-term plan for rebuilding the town with the mayor and some other members of the local government. 

This is something else you know he loves to do – shmooze with higher-ups, show off his people skills. Not only are they higher-ups, they’re small-town folk. His kind of people. He knows how to get through to them, how to get them to trust him. You love that about Tyler. He’s never condescending – he always has a genuine desire to help. He’s been through this hundreds of times, and these people may only have been through it this one time. You look around at them, at the people of all ages picking up the pieces that remain of their community, then cross your fingers and send a thought out to anyone listening:

Please let it be the only time.

After a few more hours of genuinely back-breaking work, you hear Tyler’s sharp whistle and know it’s time, meandering over to his truck where it’s been parked for almost eighteen hours. Using your teeth, you pull your gloves from your hands and hiss. They’ve been rubbed raw, the skin blistering where each finger meets the palm. You try to ignore the throbbing sensation, leaning against the passenger side door and closing your eyes. The rest of the crew sidle up to you, taking long drags from water bottles and cigarettes and trying to make peace with how you’re leaving this place tonight.

“Does anyone else want to break off to shower first?”

It seems Dani’s the only one, and they shrug, putting their hand out, palm up, to Dexter, who hands them the keys to the RV.

“Meet y’all there,” they say, stifling a yawn, and you know it’ll be a bit before you see them. The rest of you will have to pile into Tyler’s truck, and before you can object, the other three crawl into the back seat and leave you on the front bench with Tyler. You let yourself in and close the door behind you, buckling and watching as Tyler shakes someone’s hand and hustles to meet the rest of you. His Texans cap hits the bench before he does, between the two of you, and he turns his keys in the ignition, buckling his own seatbelt.

“Where we headin’?”

“There’s a place with a mechanical bull nearby. I vote there.”

“How nearby is ‘nearby,’ Boone?”

“Uh,” he pulls his phone from his pocket, does a quick Google to double-check. “Forty-five minutes?”

Dexter leans over and grips Boone’s phone, reading the screen. “In the opposite direction of the motel, Boone.”

Everyone groans, objecting, and you press your hand against your temple to alleviate the pressure there. The noise, God, the noise.

“Could we go somewhere closer to the motel, maybe?”

“It’s got a mechanical bull,” Boone stresses, and everyone rolls their eyes.

“Boone, you know damn well we’re not making it back to the motel if we go that far away.”

He groans, and you pull your own phone out, checking Maps to see what’s around the motel.

“This one’s three minutes from where we’re stayin’,” you say, showing Tyler your screen, and he nods, shifting into reverse, backing out, and starting down the one lane of the street that’s been cleared of debris. 

“Hey Boone,” you toss over your shoulder as Tyler shifts into second gear. “By the way. Long time no see.”

Lily snorts, smacking you on the shoulder to let you know she thought that was a good one. Boone shakes his head. 

“Hey, just because you didn’t see me all day doesn’t mean I wasn’t out there, too. How do I know you were workin’, weren’t sitting on your ass in the shade somewhere, hm?”

You hold your raw, red palms out for him to inspect and that shuts Boone up quick. Tyler whistles as he gets an eyeful of your skin.

“God damn, girl,” Lily murmurs. “That looks like it hurts. I think I might have Aquaphor in my bag back at the motel if you want some.”

“I’ll be alright,” you reply, knocking your elbow against her knee behind you in thanks. “Appreciate you.”

The rest of the drive is taken mostly in silence, everyone in the backseat trying to rest their eyes, but you stay up, your eyes on the road, so Tyler isn’t the only one making the thirty-ish minute drive back to where you’re staying, where you checked in only after it’d been decided which towns had been hit the worst, so you could reach all of them easily by truck.

“What’s goin’ on in your head? Hm?”

You turn to look at Tyler and he glances at you from out of the corner of his eye, then at your lap, at the fingernails you’ve picked down to the quick. “Real quiet over there.”

“Nothing,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Don’t let Boone get to you,” Tyler says, tapping his right fist on your thigh once, twice, then letting it rest there. You brush your knuckles against his and he opens the fist immediately, taking your hand in his but not squeezing, careful not to put pressure on the blisters on your palms.

“It’s not that,” you start, then realize your mistake, your admission. “I really – I think I’m just tired. It’s been a long week.”

You’re acutely aware of your hand in Tyler’s. It’s not like you’ve ever been shy around him – your cheeks flush at the thought – but this is…different. Sweet. More.

“Yeah, that it has,” he sighs, adjusting his left hand on the steering wheel so he can drive a little more comfortably, but his right hand stays in yours. 

You settle back into silence, Tyler seemingly having dropped the subject, and your eyes return to the road, but you feel him looking over at you, checking on you, every once in a while. You try your hardest not to meet his gaze. 

Soon enough, Tyler is putting the truck in park, then shutting the thing off. The noise – or lack thereof, you guess – wakes Dexter in the back, then Lily, who snorts when she sees your hand in Tyler’s. You pull away and unbuckle your seatbelt, watching as Tyler, with a hurt look on his face, wipes his hand on his jeans and swings himself down and out of the truck.

“C’mon, Boone,” he shouts, slapping a hand on the door that Boone has his head resting against, and the man sits up straight, wiping sleep from his eyes. “The sun hasn’t even gone down yet. Drinks on me, pal!”

The motel really is that close to the bar, so you all decide you’ll leave the truck parked there and walk home at the end of the night. The unspoken verdict is that you will all be getting shitfaced tonight.

The lingering smell of cigarettes in the air seems to rejuvenate everyone and Lily pumps a fist when she spots the old-fashioned jukebox across the room, then claps a hand over her mouth when she realizes there’s a TouchTunes sitting right next to it.

“Oh, I am so forcing you fuckers to listen to Chappell Roan all night,” she says gleefully, and you laugh along with her, looping your arm in hers and letting her pull you across the room while the boys settle in at the bar.

“So what was that all about?”

“What was what all about?” You play dumb, shrugging when Lily gives you a hard look and unhooks her arm from yours.

“Girl, seriously,” Lily scoffs, bumping your hip with hers and slipping a twenty dollar bill into the TouchTunes. Evidently she wasn’t joking when she meant you’d be listening to Chappell Roan all night. “I saw that thing earlier, the hair thing, don’t think I didn’t. And y’all holding hands in the truck. What’s going on there?”

You shake your head but she grabs your wrist. “I’m serious, Lil. Nothing’s going on. We’re friends – good friends. He noticed I was having a hard time today, and wanted to make sure I was alright. That’s all.”

You can tell she doesn’t fully believe you, and when she opens her mouth to object, you cut her off.

“I’m gonna run to the bathroom, okay?”

Lily watches you, trying to read the small line between your eyebrows, but eventually she nods and lets go of you, letting you turn away from her. You push through the door to the women’s restroom, your nose wrinkling at the smell, but you ignore it. Standing in front of the sink, you watch yourself, hands shaking. This isn’t you. You’re better than this at shoving these feelings for Tyler down, way down – or, rather, you had been, up until this week broke you, apparently. Turning the knob for the cold water to the left, you let it run over your sore hands, hissing at the feeling. Carefully, you cup your palms and watch them fill, then splash the water onto your face, soothing the flush. There. That should help.

There’s a cold bottle of Coors in front of the seat next to Dexter when you arrive back to the group, “Red Wine Supernova” playing from the speakers. You almost snort at all the old men – regulars, no doubt – groaning out their distaste for whoever chose the music all across the room.

“Thanks,” you toss over your shoulder at Tyler, sitting on the other side of Dexter and Boone. He nods and nurses his own. You frown and settle onto the stool, leaning an elbow on the bartop so you can turn and face your friends. The cold beer against the palms of your hands feels so nice.

What’s wrong with him? He won’t make eye contact with you, and you notice his jaw clicking as he grits his teeth. What’s got his panties in a twist?

As the night unfolds, you find yourself laughing more and more, loosening up, letting the stress of the last week fade into memory. Someone has produced a deck of cards from God knows where and Dani – who did join the group eventually – is showing off card tricks you didn’t even know they knew. You feel a warmth spreading through your body, and you can’t stop thinking about how much you love all of these people. Your friends. Your family. Empty bottles are swiftly replaced with full, cold ones without notice, and everyone is languid, relaxed, unburdened by the work that you’re all doing.

You take a pull from your drink, using the cover of the bottle to risk a glance to Tyler three seats down from you to find that he’s already watching you, and the look in his eye tells you exactly what he’s thinking. That somersault-y feeling is lower than your stomach now. You’re only three beers deep, but the air in your head reminds you that you’ve barely eaten all day, so you’re a little more affected by the alcohol than you’d usually be. Impolitely, you reach across Dexter next to you to grab a handful of peanuts from the basket to his left.

Glancing back up at Tyler, you meet his heady gaze again, and he smirks around the lip of the bottle against his mouth. He knows he’s got you right where he wants you. You swallow nervously around another sip of beer.

Every once in a while, the two of you will get a little too drunk, stay until last call, sneak back to your motel room, and fuck. Nobody knows – at least you don’t think they do – and you never talk about it when you’re sober. Tyler will generally stay until you fall asleep, but he’s always gone when you get up the next day. Only once has he woken up in bed with you the next morning, and you’ve never made that mistake again. There isn’t a name for what you feel for him, you don’t think, and you can’t tell what he thinks of the arrangement. Clearly he likes it, or he wouldn’t be making eyes at you from across three people’s laps as you pull these peanuts from their shells.

“Alright, y’all,” Lily says, slapping a hand on the bar, startling you out of your thoughts. You watch her, popping a nut into your mouth. “Think I’m gonna head out. I suggest you all do, too, fuckers, it’s late.”

Everyone starts to protest, but one glance at the clock tells you you’ve all stayed much longer than you thought – it’s a quarter past midnight, and you’ve got to be up with the daylight. You balk, but if you want to talk to Tyler tonight, you know you’ve got to shoulder your exhaustion and stick it out a little longer.

“I think I might stay for a bit,” you murmur, watching everyone stand and gather their things. You glance over at Tyler, who you can see clearly now that everyone’s out of their seats, and he’s watching you, too. The look on his face reads plain, now – he wants you.

“I’ll stay with her,” he says, eyes on yours. The green in them has disappeared almost completely, you notice, his pupils blown wide. “Walk her back. Y’all head back if you want.”

“I might stay, too –” Boone’s voice cuts off, coughing as Lily elbows him in the stomach, maybe a little too hard. “What the fuck was that for?”

“You’re going to bed, too, Boone,” Dani interrupts, a hand on his shoulder, guiding him towards the door. They poke him once when he starts to protest. “C’mon, now.”

Everyone shuffles out the front, Dexter calling good night, and all of the sudden, it’s just you and Tyler. You don’t know why, but your palms begin to sweat at the thought of being alone with him again. He stands, palming his drink, and slides onto the seat next to you, his body angled towards yours.

He’s never made you nervous like this. You don’t know what the fuck is wrong with you.

“So,” Tyler starts, grinning at you. “You come here often?”

You snort, emboldened by the booze, and he chuckles in response. “Idiot.”

“God, but I do love making you laugh.”

You blush under his scrutinous gaze, and take a quick swig of the dregs of your drink, unsure what to say to that. He mirrors you, taking a sip of his own while his eyes bore into yours. Accusatory.

“You don’t do it much anymore, you know that?”

“Do what?”

“Laugh.”

You press your fingertips to your mouth and Tyler’s eyes follow your hand. “I guess I just haven’t had much to laugh about lately,” you start, sighing deeply. “Tornado season’s been hard this year, and you know how much that – it gets to me. As much as I love what we do. You know. Remember that family a couple weeks back whose daughter was stuck under her bunk bed when it pressed on her too long, lost her leg below the knee? That got to me, Tyler. It did.”

“It gets to me, too,” he murmurs, knocking his knee against yours. “I guess I’m just better at hiding how bad it affects me. You can talk to me about it, though. You can talk to any of us.”

“I know I can,” you breathe, trying to keep your hands from shaking. “I know. Sometimes I don’t know what to say, though, you know, what is there to say? It’s not fair to complain about how sad it makes me to watch these people lose everything.”

“You’re allowed to feel sad. And to feel frustrated. It’s not fair, you’re right, but we’re doing good work, yeah? Fighting the good fight. Figuring out what makes these things tick, how to warn people when they’re in the path, get them outta the way and safe. Maybe they lose their house, their car, but they won’t lose themselves, or each other. That’s what matters most. Just remember that.”

You look up at him, set your elbow on the bartop, and prop your chin on your open palm. Your hands don’t hurt so bad anymore, you notice. “Thanks, Tyler.”

“Anytime,” he smiles, but you shake your head. 

“Seriously. You always know what to say.”

A look crosses his face then, too quick for you to read, and he sets his drink down, flagging the bartender over to close out the team’s tab. You frown, wondering if you’d, ironically, said the wrong thing.

“What’s up?”

Tyler looks back to you, and this time, the look in his eyes is unmistakable. It burns. “Taking you home, sweetheart.”

The walk back to your motel is done in silence. Tyler’s hand swings next to yours, and you feel it searching for yours more than once, but you don’t take it. You climb the stairs together, slowly, and he walks you to your door. His room is one more floor up.

You can tell he thinks you won’t invite him in, that you’ve changed your mind – or maybe that you never made it up. He hadn’t, after all, told you plainly that that was why he’d stayed with you at the bar. You unlock the room with your key card and step inside, opening the door only far enough for you to fit through it. You turn back to look at him, his face awash in the street lights shining into the hallway. You flip the lightswitch on next to you, illuminating the room behind you, too.

“Well,” he murmurs, making to head back down the stairs. “Good night.”

“Tyler?”

His head turns back to look at you, watching as you hold out one hand and he takes it, letting you pull him closer to you. You press yourself into him, push your whole face against his chest, your hip keeping the door from closing on the two of you. You inhale deeply, the smell of him overtaking your senses. His cologne, yes, but underneath that, the smell of dirt, earth. Home.

You feel his arms wrap around your back and you turn your head to the side, press your ear to his heartbeat. Your hands come up to scratch down his back and you feel it when he shudders.

“Stay?”

You hear his breath hitch in his chest, then the deep rumble of his voice as he says, “Alright, baby.”

With a short inhale, your eyes flutter, nearly closing at the term of endearment. You step back, pulling him with you, and as you close the door behind you, he pushes one hand up into your hair and pulls your head toward his.

“I, uh,” you whisper against his lips when they get close enough to yours, “I think I might shower first, if that’s okay with you?”

“Alright,” he murmurs, unlacing his hand from the strands of your hair before toeing his boots off and carefully setting them under the chair next to the front door. “You want company?”

You swallow. You’ve never done anything like that before. It’s always been quick. When you do this with him, you hardly ever have time for a chat before he’s got your shirt over your head and his mouth on your skin.

“Sure,” you reply. You feel him watch as you turn around and pull your shirt off, reaching back to unclasp your bra. The modesty feels redundant, but you can’t help it.

“Not gettin’ shy on me now, are you? S’not like I haven’t seen you naked before,” he chuckles, and you throw a look at him over your shoulder just as he’s pulling his own shirt over his head. He left his hat at the bar, you think. You’ll have to go back in for it when you pick up the truck.

“Tyler,” you scold, and he laughs at you, steps across the room to wrap an arm around your torso and press a kiss to where your neck meets your shoulder. The place he knows makes you melt. You sigh and push back against him, the feeling of his hard chest against your bare back a welcome one. This feels more like what you know, what you’re used to.

“Shower,” you remind him, and he nods, his forehead pressed into that spot now, and he pushes his fingers underneath the waistband of your jeans, running them along the bit of skin there around to the front, where the fabric splits at the button. He pops it undone, then uses his thumb and forefinger to grip the zipper and slowly – so slowly – pulls that down. He can’t help himself, you know that, and so you hold your breath and wait for him to push his hand into your panties. Ever a predictable man, he does just that, and you gasp at the feeling of his warm hand against you.

“Are you sure?” Tyler’s breath against your neck makes you shiver, and you press your ear to the side of his chin. He runs his fingers along the seam of you, finding first your clit, your legs twitching at the sudden rush of pleasure when he brushes his hand against it, then pushing down to find you wet and wanting. You cry out softly. “You don’t sound sure. You don’t feel sure.”

You hum, your neck stretching back until your head is pressed to his chest, and he pulls his hand back up to start working small circles on your clit, your wetness on his fingers allowing for smooth movement, with just enough friction to have you panting for more. 

“Sounds more to me like you kinda want me to fuck you with my fingers.”

“Tyler,” you whimper, telling him with just his name that you are getting close. He smiles against the side of your neck, pulling his hand away and shoving your jeans and underwear down just enough that his hand has room to smack your clit lightly. You squeal, right leg kicking out at the feeling, and he continues moving his hand in circles to soothe the hurt.

Your breath is coming out of you in short huffs, and before you can come, Tyler takes his hand off of you and wraps it around your stomach to join the other. You pant and whine, rubbing your thighs together to chase the feeling he’d had you practically pressed up against, now ebbing with the loss of his fingers.

“You said you wanted to shower,” he whispers in your ear, pulling your panties back up, and you scowl, pushing away from him. He laughs and holds his hands up in defense as you pick your t-shirt up off your bed and crack it at him like a whip. “Let’s shower, baby.”

“I might kick you out right now, Owens,” you snark, but the small smile on your face gives you away, and Tyler unbuttons his own jeans, leaving them in a pile on the floor at the end of the bed. Your jeans join his, and you’re both left in your underwear.

“You wouldn’t,” he replies, pulling his briefs off slowly, biting his bottom lip as you watch him. “You like this cock too much.”

You can’t help laughing at him, but the sight of him bare in front of you does have you biting your lip. You step forward to cup his growing length in your hand. Before you can move it, Tyler puts a hand on your wrist.

“How’s your hand?” He makes to pull it away, presumably to turn it over and appraise your blisters, but you shake your head.

“S’fine,” you whisper, tightening your grip. You tug once, twice, and press a kiss to his bare chest, then tip your head back to search out his lips. He leans down to oblige you, his lips parting against your mouth as you twist your fist. You love these moments you share with him, when you’re both bare, physically, emotionally, away from the real world, and you can pretend this is an everyday thing. When you’re not trying to tell yourself you feel nothing for him. Like this is just how it is between you.

Tyler groans when you pull your hand away from him and you click your tongue, press that same hand against his bicep.

“Doesn’t feel so good, now does it?”

Before you even know what’s happening, Tyler is picking you up, one arm underneath your back and the other around the backs of your knees. You look up at his face and laugh. “Put me down, Owens!”

He grins and carries you the few paces into the bathroom, placing you on your feet in front of the tub. Tyler leans down and pushes his thumbs underneath the waistband of your panties, waiting for you to put your hands on his shoulders and step out of them.

He lets you pull away from him to turn the hot water on, adjusting the cold side until the temperature is perfect, before pulling you against his chest once again. This time, you can feel his hard cock pressed against your backside, and you hum appraisingly. You reach behind you to fist him again, but he shakes his head – you feel his chin brush against the top of your head – and he groans out, “Mm-mm.”

“What?”

“We’re gonna shower, baby, c’mon.”

You glance back towards him and watch as he flicks the overhead light on. “So we don’t slip and die,” he says, and you laugh, pushing the shower curtain to the side. Holding Tyler’s hand, you step over the lip of the tub and under the steady stream of warm water, inhaling deeply when it hits the sore muscles in your shoulders and back. Tyler groans at the feeling, too, when he steps in behind you.

“Here, switch with me,” he murmurs, guiding you by your waist until you’re the one underneath the water. You let it fall onto the top of your head, over your face and down the back of your hair, for a moment, eyes closed, relishing the feeling. Tyler reaches both hands up and brushes the water out of your eyes, runs his hand over the top of your head. 

“Shampoo?”

You open one eye, the other shut against the water, and nod. You gaze up at him, heart squeezing at the way he’s watching you. His smile widens and he takes the tiny bottle in his hand – it looks even more comically small now – and dumps the product into his other palm, setting the bottle down onto the edge of the tub and rubbing his hands together.

“Turn around.”

You do as he asks, inhaling sharply through your nose when you feel his hands run through the hair at the crown of your head. Your stomach aches with longing as you register how unnaturally intimate this is. His fingers feel so good against your scalp, which is slightly sunburnt, you’re now realizing. He massages the shampoo further into your hair, running his fingers down the back of your neck and across the tops of your shoulders. When he’s satisfied with his shampoo job, he steers you by your arms to face him again, then carefully helps you tilt your head back and rinses it all from your hair.

You watch him pick up the other small bottle from the shelf, warm water still running down the back of your head. 

“I’ll do my conditioner,” you murmur, taking the bottle gently from his hands. “It’s a – it’s a science.”

“I am very good at science, if you can recall.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “It’s something I’ve gotten perfectly right. It’ll take just a sec.”

So you work the conditioner through the ends of your hair, avoiding his gaze as he watches your hands first coat your hair in the product, then rinse it out. He reaches forward to run his own fingers across it, as gently as he can.

“Hm,” he makes the noise in the back of his throat, pulling his hand away. “Soft.”

You can hardly look at him, the twisting feeling in your stomach shifting to something warmer, something further from apprehension, something that feels a lot like want. “You?”

Tyler shakes his head. “I’m good. Here,” he says, rubbing his hands across the plane of your upper back. “You’re tense. You worked hard today. Let me help.”

You weren’t going to protest, but before you can, Tyler guides you forward and out of the direct spray of the shower, then presses his thumbs into your muscle. You groan, your head falling forward onto his chest at the feeling, and he chuckles at you, continuing with his hands. “Feel good?”

“So good,” you whimper, and you feel his cock twitch against your stomach.

“You fucking dog,” you joke, and Tyler laughs against you, pushing your hair off the back of your neck and pressing his thumbs in there, too.

“Hey, what can I say? I like making my girl feel good.”

You freeze. His girl? His girl. He hasn’t noticed your reaction, and he keeps pressing his fingers into your sore muscles, pulling one hand away briefly to push the showerhead down and away from the two of you. You glance up, already missing its warmth, but you find that the steam rising around you is doing a good enough job at that.

“Here, baby,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead and guiding you to press your hands against the tiled wall to your left, running his hands down your back.

“What are you –”

Before you can finish the thought, you feel Tyler’s fingers parting the seam of your cunt from – from behind, and you groan at the feeling of his middle finger slipping inside of you.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he groans, his knees hitting the floor behind you. You toss a glance at him over your shoulder and your own knees nearly buckle at the way he’s looking up at you – with hunger, and with reverence, and with something else entirely unrecognizable. He looks wild. He looks in love.

One of Tyler’s hands clamps down around your hips and he leans forward, pressing a kiss to the back of your thigh as his finger starts to shift in and out of you. You shiver and push your face into the cool tile, groaning softly when he finds that rough bit of flesh inside of you, the one that makes you come undone if he works it long enough.

“Yeah?” Tyler sounds fucked out already, his voice breathy against your skin, and you can picture the look on his face, the concentrated expression he gets when he’s trying to make you come. You try to focus on the feeling of the shower’s spray where it hits the edge of your foot rather than how good his finger feels inside you because if you think too closely about how good it feels, you’ll get lightheaded. And nobody wants that.

“Yeah,” you reply weakly, and for a few minutes it’s just like that, the only sound in the bathroom the shower, your panting moans, and the noise your pussy makes as he pulls his finger in and out.

“Sound so good for me, baby,” he says, pressing a kiss to the back of your thigh again, and you whine, trying to protest when he slips his finger from you. He laughs deep in his chest and lightly smacks the swell of your ass.

“Don’t complain when I’m doin’ somethin’ nice for you,” he jok, and you can feel then that he’s shifting himself around. You want to look over your shoulder, want to see for yourself what he’s doing, but freeze when you feel his palms cupping your ass, his nose pressing against the inside of your thighs.

Your mouth forms the word oh, but no sound comes out until you feel his mouth press against your cunt, tongue pushing inside of you, and then you cry out, chest heaving, when he presses a sloppy, wet kiss to your clit. You pull your face from where it’s still resting against the tile and look down at Tyler to find he’s already looking right up at you. His grip on your ass tightens when you make eye contact with him, and he spreads you open wider for him, eyes narrowing as his tongue flicks again, and again, and again.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he moans against you, the vibrations causing your legs to twitch. You already thought you were going to burst, the steam from the shower, the way he’d washed your hair, the fact that he was in your room at all – it all made you feel slightly insane. To add insult to injury, he’s just pushed two fingers inside of you and immediately found the spot that takes you out, and you start to shake a little.

“Tyler,” you whine, pushing one hand down to grip his hair. He groans when you tighten your hold on it, fucking into you a little faster. “Tyler, fuck, gonna come.”

“So come, baby,” comes his reply, and you do, you come so hard that the toes on your right foot curl until you’re on tiptoe and Tyler has to reach up and grip your waist to steady you. You feel it crest, and peak, then subside, but he keeps working you through it, his mouth moving against you still, and a second, smaller – though still good – orgasm wracks your body right after the first.

You breathe through it, push your foot down so you’re standing flat on the surface of the tub again, and wait for Tyler to pull his fingers out of you. 

“Baby,” Tyler groans, squeezing your hips, his fingernails biting slightly into your skin. “You gotta let go’a me, if you want me to get up.”

His voice, fuck, his voice, you think, releasing your grip on his hair and turning to watch him rise from his knees, the tile cold against your back. You surge forward to kiss him square on the mouth and he catches you, smiles against you when you part your lips to taste yourself on his tongue.

“Was that good?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, pressing one, two, three more quick kisses to his mouth, before he reaches behind you to turn off the water. “So fucking good.”

Neither of you bother with a towel, instead opting to stumble toward the queen bed in the middle of the room and climb right underneath the covers.

“Hi,” you whisper when you’re settled in, the duvet pulled up under your chin. Your eyes rove over his face, then glance over to the alarm clock behind him. 1:56 in the morning. “You still wanna fuck?”

Tyler snorts, reaching over to poke you in the side, gripping the skin there until you start to laugh. “You still wanna fuck?”

“Yeah,” you reply, grinning, when you catch your breath. “Wanna?”

He’s quiet for a second, watching the duvet rise and fall with each breath you take, before he peels it off of you, using his elbow to push himself up until he’s leaning over you. There’s a rosy flush on your chest, your breasts heaving and it’s all he can do not to lean down and take one of your nipples in his mouth, the one closest to him. Instead, he runs the back of his other hand across your chest, catching against the hard peak, and watches your breath stick to the inside of your throat. You feel yourself subconsciously leaning toward him as his face comes toward you. You want him to kiss you, but instead, he angles his mouth to kiss the skin below your chin.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathes against your neck, pressing his open mouth to you there, and you gasp at the feeling – of his mouth against you, and of his praise. It all feels so nice. He just made you come in the shower, and now he’s going to make you come in this bed, hopefully more than once. 

You wrap your hands around his back and pull him toward you, watch as he settles in between your thighs. You can feel his thick cock, heavy, insistent, where it presses against you, and you want to take him into your hands, but he has other plans. 

With one hand pressed into the pillow on either side of your head, Tyler uses his knees to knock your legs out further, sitting back against his heels when he’s satisfied. He wraps his big hands around your thighs and pulls you closer, smiling down at you. “You’re so beautiful.”

You blush when he repeats himself, suddenly feeling very bare. He’s just as naked as you are, but you can’t help but feel like he’s seen your whole hand, meanwhile you hardly have any idea what cards he might hold. In the dim light from the lamp beside your head, you notice that you can see the green of his irises again. It seems like the shower sobered the two of you up very quickly.

His gaze locked on yours, Tyler takes himself into his hand, groaning at the pressure of his grip after neglecting his own want for so long, but he suddenly curses, pausing just as he’s about to press inside of you.

“What?”

“I don’t have a condom,” he breathes, sitting back again. He runs one hand through his hair, visibly weighing the options.

“It’s okay, Tyler,” you murmur, leaning up onto your elbows. “It’s okay. I have an IUD, and I got screened after the last time I was with someone. I’m good. I’m good if you’re good.”

Tyler heaves a heavy sigh, running his hands up your thighs. “You’re sure? I’m clean, too, cross my heart. But only if you’re sure.”

You nod. “My head is clear. I think I shook off my drunk an orgasm or two ago.”

A grin crosses his face, and you roll your eyes at him before he even opens his mouth. Two? he mouths, then whistles lowly. You smack his stomach, and he grabs your wrist in his hand, lightning quick, pressing a kiss to the pulse point there. Your jaw falls slack, and you go all soft and pliant, letting him pin your hands above your head. His body comes down over yours, and his mouth presses to your cheek, then your forehead, and when your eyes flutter shut, the ghost of a kiss crosses them, too.

“I’m gonna fuck you so good,” he murmurs, and normally if a man were to say that to you, you would immediately regret letting him into your bed. But for some reason, when Tyler says it, it sends that familiar warmth spiraling down into your gut. You know he means it.

Slowly – too slowly – he guides himself back to your entrance, shifting his hips so they’re resting comfortably against yours, and he presses himself inside of you. You hiss; the girth of him, although a welcome stretch, is also a bit of an uncomfortable one. He leans down to kiss you, working you through it with a thumb pressing circles into your clit, sliding himself in bit by bit until he’s fully seated. 

A groan pushes out of him when you clench around him, testing the waters.

“Careful,” he murmurs, easing his hips back. “I’d like it if this lasted longer than ten seconds, please.”

You laugh against the side of his head, pull your hands down from where he’d left them above you and wrap yourself around his shoulders, pulling him flush against you. Tyler grips your thighs and starts to work himself in and out of you, carefully, gently, but you squeeze his waist with your knees. Encouraging him. Asking him to pick it up. You can handle it.

His hips start to pull back and snap against yours quicker and quicker, Tyler panting in your ear, lifting up onto his palms and pushing himself off of you. He sits up onto his knees and tilts your hips up for a different angle, one that sets sparks dancing in front of your eyes. You groan, head tossed back, and dig your nails into his thighs as his pace picks up.

“Fuck, yeah, that it, baby? I can feel you – fuck, feel you squeezin’ me.”

You hardly have a voice with the rate he’s slipping in and out of you, barely enough to squeak out, “Fuck,” before your cunt has him in a vice grip, working through another orgasm.

“Ohhh, that’s it, huh, that’s it.” His mouth is going a mile a minute, neither of you really paying much attention to anything he’s actually saying. You’re both focused on his own mounting orgasm – you don’t feel like your body is capable of much more than that – and you weakly clamp down around him once more. His eyes squeeze shut, his hips stutter, and he grits out, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck fuck,” before he slots against you and you feel him filling you. You run a hand down his back, soothing him as he comes, biting your lip at the feeling, foreign but enjoyable.

Tyler groans and glances down to where his cock is softening inside of you. He eases his hips back, cupping your face and pressing a kiss to your forehead as he does. “Shit, I’m sorry, are you okay?”

You nod meagerly, pressing the back of your hand against your warm cheek. He watches you and, assured that you’re not going to pass out on him or anything, stands and hobbles into the bathroom. The sink turns on out of sight, and you close your eyes, listening to the water run. Tyler returns with a warm, wet towel and wipes the inside of your thighs, swiping gently across your cunt, before folding the towel and letting it fall to the floor at your bedside.

You feel loose, calm. Safe. You hardly notice him turn the light off, but you do feel the bed dip beside you as he rejoins you under the covers and pulls you into his arms. You melt against his sturdy chest, his heartbeat under your face a comfort, the rhythmic tick tick tick of it lulling you to sleep. But there’s still one thing you have to know before you can relax completely.

His breathing has started to even out, but he hasn’t snored yet, so you know he’ll still hear you when you ask, “Are you gonna leave?”

He grunts an acknowledgement of your question, nuzzling down into the top of your head.

“Do you want me to stay?”

You know your answer, but you still bite your lip, considering the question. You hadn’t thought before that maybe he left after every night you spent together because he thought you didn’t want to wake up with him. “Yes.”

“Okay,” he murmurs against your hair, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Then I’ll stay.”

If he’s at all worried about what will happen when you wake up tomorrow, he doesn’t show it, but anxiety courses through you at the thought of anyone finding out. Does he want the others to know? Because that’s what it feels like.

“Stop thinking about it,” he whispers, like he can hear your thoughts racing. “It’ll be fine. Just go to sleep.”

Easy for him to say. He’s out like a light. And you’re left alone with your thoughts until you fall into fitful, dissatisfying sleep sometime around when the world outside starts to turn blue.

A pounding on your door wakes you from deep sleep – the deepest you’d gotten all night, at least – and you try to sit up but find there’s a heavy weight on your chest blocking you. You rub the sleep from your eyes, glancing down at the sleeping body next to you. It takes a second for it to register: Tyler’s here. 

Tyler’s here. Sidled up against you, arm thrown over your stomach like this is where he belongs. He didn’t leave. He stayed, like he said he would. His face looks so peaceful – so beautiful – you almost hate to wake him.

“Come on, sleepyhead! Time to get a move on!”

Almost. You scramble to push Tyler off of you, ignoring his noises of protest, jumping out from under the covers and grabbing various articles of clothing off the floor to pull over your naked form. You plop back down on the bed, this time on his side, right next to where he’s starting to wake.

“Dude, get up, they’re gonna know you’re not in your room. They’re gonna know you’re in here.”

“So what,” he grumbles, rolling over as you push him and settling deeper into the bed. “Let ‘em.”

You sit up straight, one hand on his arm. “You mean that?”

He hums and turns his neck to glance at you over his shoulder. “Yeah, ‘course I do. You’re my girl.”

Your face flushes a deep pink and Tyler grins, reaching over to wrap an arm around you and drag you back down into the bed, pinning you under him and peppering an assault of open-mouthed kisses all over your face. You grin, thinking that you could get used to this – just not right now.

“Seriously, Tyler,” you laugh, pushing a hand against the side of his face. He squeezes your hip. “We have to get up. We gotta get back out there.”

Tyler sighs, loosening his grip on your body and kneeling over you. “Yeah, you’re right. Alright, alright.”

He stands and takes the top sheet with him, wrapped around his waist, and heads to the bathroom. To brush his teeth, you hope. God.

“You know,” he says, head popping back out into the room, mouth full of toothpaste. “Yesterday. I wanted them to see us holding hands.”

You watch as he smiles at you and disappears back into the bathroom, then fall back onto the bed, hands pressed over your eyes. 

Fifteen minutes later, the two of you are dressed, teeth brushed, hair taken care of, day packs slung over your shoulder, and you’re pulling the door closed behind you when you hear a whistle that pulls your attention to the parking lot.

“Damn, Owens!”

The voice makes you jump, and you groan. You thought you were going to get away with the sneaking around, but the rest of your team is watching from next to the RV as the two of you descend the stairs together.

Lily and Dani turn to Boone with smug looks on both their faces, and he rolls his eyes and pulls his wallet from his back pocket. They hold their hands out for him to slap two twenty dollar bills down into.

“What’s that?” You ask when you get close enough to them.

“We had a bet that you and Owens would come out of that room together. Well, that one or his. Didn’t matter which.”

“A bet I just lost,” Boone groans, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. “I thought for sure…”

The rest of the crew snickers, including Tyler, who won’t look at you. You poke a finger into his chest.

“Did you know about this?”

“No, I swear,” he says, hands up, and you don’t know why, but you believe him. “That doesn’t mean I didn’t drunkenly confess to Lily weeks ago that sometimes we, you know…”

You scoff, almost mad, but then Boone shouts and the scoff turns into a snicker because, hey, you love him, but you can’t help but relish in his defeat.

“So they knew?! That’s cheating!”

He storms off while the rest of you laugh, Dani clutching their side and following him around the side of the building to try to make amends, trailing off, “If it makes you feel any better…”

Lily looks over at you, then at Tyler, a grin swallowing her face. “So, are you guys, like, together now? Or something?”

You look up at Tyler, who’s smiling softly at you, clearly deferring to you to answer that question. You feel a surge of affection for him swell in your chest. Clearing your throat, you turn to Lily.

“Or something.”

[thisiswhereikeepdcthings]

AU where Jason comes back to Gotham and begins his plan to confront Batman and all that. Except after only like a week the Joker gets hit by a bus and then shot by a little old lady with a shotgun and dies.

Jason’s plan is now in shambles because the dramatic climax of his plan is no longer possible. But that’s fine. He’ll think of some other suitable alternative. Granted, it’s not quite the same if he uses some other villain. Making Batman choose doesn’t mean nearly as much when it’s not about the person who killed him.

And really, is he going to try and get Batman to kill Black Mask or something? Scarecrow? Red Hood is competent; he could do it himself so why bother.

So Jason lays low continues to build his criminal empire with astounding speed and efficiency. If only he could think of a good way to announce his return. Nothing he can think of is dramatic enough.

Meanwhile, the Bats are freaking out because who is this guy that’s taken over half of the Gotham underworld in like a month? He’s obviously trained, but they just can’t seem to get any information on who he is or where he came from. It is beyond frustrating.

After a few months Jason is frustrated that he just can’t seem to find any dramatic good way of making Batman prove himself. It has to be something big! Something magnificent!

During his weekly chat with Talia he complains about his problems and she suggests he come back for a visit. He argues that he can’t just leave, but she says if he has competent enough lieutenants it’d be fine. He spends the next three weeks making sure that everything will be fine if he leaves for a week. He will not have all of his hard work falling apart and going to waste due to incompetence. Absolutely not.

So then once his lieutenants are sufficiently prepared (and the rest of Gotham’s criminal element sufficiently cowed), he heads to Nanda Parbat, only to find Ra’s on the phone with Bruce, who is demanding to know if the Red Hood has any affiliation with the league.

Oh. Oh. He can give them affiliation.

A new plan begins to form.

He’s going to be the most affiliated he can be. Jason immediately goes to Talia with his newest plan: Overthrow Ra’s and takeover the league. Talia whips out her forty step outline for overthrowing Ra’s and tells Jason she’s so proud of him.

Jason has a new goal now, so he gets to work. He checks on things in Gotham, but everything seems to be fine and there haven’t been any unplanned explosions so it should be fine if he stays here for a bit.

Taking over Gotham really was good practice, as it turns out. Thanks to Talia’s plans and previous foundational efforts the takeover happens in no time.

Meanwhile the bats are still freaking out. Red Hood hasn’t been seen in three weeks, he may or may not have league of assassins connections, and even in his absence his goons seem to be managing things competently.

Back in Nanda Parbat, Jason and Talia finish their takeover. And now, finally, he’s ready to confront Batman.

He arrives in Gotham as the new head of the league. His arrival is loud, elaborate, and dramatic enough to fulfill his inner theater kid’s dreams.

Batman is speechless. And not his usual grunts instead of words, but actual surprised speechless. Jason is alive?!?!?!?

Jason was not expecting all the tears. And hugs. And mother henning. Goodness gracious, this was not part of the plan.

Bruce is obviously struggling with Jason’s revelation that he took over the league, but the newest little birdie seems almost relieved at that(?) and Dick and Alfred both seem strangely proud. Whatever. Even Bruce seems to be at least mostly ignoring that for now.

Then someone asks him if he knows Red Hood. Jason blinks. Says that yeah, he knows Red Hood. Everyone seems to ease at that. One mystery solved. Jason quickly realizes that most of them have no idea he is Red Hood. Cass seems to be the only exception but also appears amused and willing enough to not mention it.

Dramatic appearance complete, Jason now has a new goal: see how long he can keep the bats (minus Cass and potentially Alfred) in the dark about his crime boss identity.

He will bribe Cass as much as it takes to keep her on board with the causing chaos plan, but she seems eager enough. Favorite sibling status definitely unlocked. (The whole killing thing is fought over at great length and a truce of sorts is eventually made)

David Cain is never heard from again.

Damian shows up at some point.

At least one league member has suddenly found themselves as an HR rep for Gotham criminals? They’re still not quite sure how that happened.

[deadsetobsessions]

Danny no longer has a haunt. So… he decides to find another one. And while he technically has a whole world (other dimensions aren’t an option because he’s going to stay near where Jazz’s grave is, damn it) there’s only a couple of other places with enough ambient ectoplasm to sustain him. Nanda Parbat, Tokyo, and Gotham.

Nanda Parbat had a weird old musty immortal that kept trying to summon him and exchange power for the ability to “take a worthy body and rain as much destruction” as he’d like. As if Danny would need a body to bring the world to its knees.

Tokyo… it’s too far from Jazz’s grave. He could ask Wulf or even open his own portal but when Danny tried it out, Tokyo was too peaceful. Obviously there’s crime, but nothing… nothing big like Danny’s used to.

Danny ends up picking Gotham, even if the sewer zombies and the weird group of rich fruit loops with an adoption problem creeps him out. So, he destroys the portal, packs up his parents’ house and sells it, and hauls ass to the cesspool calling his name. His family’s stuff is stored respectfully in a vault located on the deepest parts of his personal haunt in the Infinite Realms.

And honestly, he’s doing better. Sure, he’s got a shitty apartment near another revenant’s almost-haunt and he feels like he’s drowning all of the time, but Danny isn’t in danger of turning into Dan, he’s catching up on royal paperwork, and he’s got like a job as a barista. In his own coffee shop that paid for using his parent’s money (who, despite their hazardous everything, made a crap ton of money off of their more normal inventions).

Gotham’s got some pretty interesting local gangs, most of which respected the sanctity of Danny’s cafe. Sure, they tried blowing it up and tried extorting money from him in the form of “protection costs” but after three months of failure, they gave up.

(Really, the local gangs gave up when they saw him take three shotgun shells to the chest and continued to work.) (They didn’t know it never hit him. Intangibility is extremely useful.)

The Rogues, on the other hand, just gave Danny flashbacks. Their gimmicks are different, sure, but after years of Box Ghost, Skuller, Lunch Lady, etc., Danny’s more than done with costumed villains. They don’t bother him either. Some of the reason is probably due to Harley and Ivy, who had walked into the cafe and (because they were bruised and scratched up from a fight) triggered Danny’s mother hen tendencies. They were promptly fed and watered and caffeinated and their hyenas were also similarly taken care of. They declared the cafe under their protection and that was that.

Red Hood stops by, and begins to interrogate him. But when Danny met his… helmet eyes? The crime lord paused, paid for his coffee, and sat in a corner table of the cafe for the rest of the day.

And he kept coming back?

But Danny figures it’s because Hood was a revenant and people who had come close to death tends to feel more comfortable around him.

(Considering this is Gotham where people almost die every other day? Yeah, he’s pretty much friends with everyone. Or at least, less likely to get shot.)

(Hood does stay because of the King’s presence and the Pit calming itself, but also Danny’s hot and he’s got a sleeper build and Hood definitely did not imagine himself in the place of the heavy box he saw Danny lift effortlessly onto a table. No.)

But of course, the peace couldn’t last forever. But by then, Danny was so antsy, he welcomed the trouble with open arms.

It starts with a clown. Danny knows who he is. He knows who Danny is.

So, Danny has no idea why the clown thought it would be a good idea to aggravate the owner of Gotham’s official neutral grounds. See, Clovkwork? Danny’s learned how to gauge his own political importance!

“HAHAHAHAHA! COME OUT, DANNY-BOY! LET ME TELL YOU A JOKE!”

Danny comes out and grabs a chair, and with a flat expression, says, “you’re not funny and I hate clowns.”

And then he swings and slams the chair into the Joker’s face. Over and over again until Danny’s sure the clown won’t get back up. The thing about Gotham’s outdoor chairs is that they’re mad out of steel and are bolted down to the ground to prevent undedicated thieves (dedicated thieves can and will steal the bolted down steel chairs). The Joker’s hired muscle just watched this scrawny twenty-something year old yank the steel chair and take some of the fucking ground and the bolts with it and beat the fuck out of their boss who is the literal Joker.

They surrender on the spot and is taken to jail. Danny just smiles at the officers who come by and since he’s got pretty privilege and they don’t want to mess with the guy who, again, owns one of Gotham’s official neutral ground and also beat up Joker without breaking a sweat, the officers just lets him go with a warning.

And then the bats comes, and wow, Danny’s playing mentor to a formally dead person again!

But before that, the Red Hood asks for an autograph on the Gotham Gazette article with a picture of a tired Danny standing over Joker’s prone body. Then Hood stammers through asking Danny out (which Danny said yes to because he’s tired, not blind, and Hood is built like a brick house and HOT).

Batman interrogates him. Danny, who can tell that this man needs therapy and is Sad TM, tells Bats that Danny’s died before and that’s why he’s like this. He also calls Batman a furry, but like in a nice way. And then he kicks Batman out with a coffee and a file on Nanda Parbat.

Now, Danny’s got a date to prepare for and he realizes that maybe this is what Jazz wanted for him- to be happy and mostly safe and happy. (Or, happier, he thinks. It’s been a long time since he’s been truly happy, but this might be a good start)

[giuliettagaltieri]

Not Her Man

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Childhood friend!Reader

Chapter Synopsis: Feathers fall gracefully slow

Warning: Girlrotting

Word Count: 3193

Part 1 • Part 3

You were always scared to do drugs.  

You saw Rafe at his highs, you were with him, keeping him from doing anything stupid like when he was so sure he could backflip from Tanneyhill’s rooftop and land on the grass perfectly. 

But you also wondered how difficult it was for him to get clean.  To suffer from withdrawals.  And as you lie on your fur carpet, staring at the glimmering crystals of your chandelier, with your closet half emptied and scattered all around your room, along with rolling wine bottles on the polished hardwood floor of your bedroom, you think you might have understood just a little.

Blocking him was the hardest thing you have ever done in your life, especially when it was your routine to giggle over whatever interaction you had through text that day.  The itch to open his account for any update made you want to bind your hands together.

Your parents are out of the country, busy overseeing their business, forgetting to oversee their daughter.  Your maids were there for you, at least they try to be.  They bring you food on schedule, even sliding in a few scoops of ice cream every now and then in your room when your sobs start to echo around the halls.

Rafe tried to contact you multiple times.  First, through your phone, but you blocked him.  Next, he tried to throw pebbles at your window, but your seventy-six year old gardener fired a shotgun at him, thinking that he was a burglar.  Next, he tried a different approach, he was sending you gigantic bouquets of your favorite flowers, making the hallway leading to your room look like a wedding set up, the flowers perfumed the entire house too, drawing a concerning amount of bees.  One epipen to your chef’s thigh later, Rafe stops sending them.

He never really does anything right.  All he does is mess up, create more problems for himself.  You almost wanted to give in, but you remind yourself of the things he said.  Anger and hurt quickly replaces pity.

A familiar chime of your phone had you groaning.  Your friends are probably going to have another attempt of making you step out of your room, like inviting you to have your nails done or shop, just to get your mind off of Rafe.

You just let the ringtone end and you go back to staring at the chandelier, wondering if you’ll be quick enough to get out of the way if it somehow falls.  Before you can plan a strategic roll, your phone rings again.

Blindly reaching underneath the scattered pillows, you finally locate the buzzing device.  You answer without looking at the caller ID. 

“Y/N speaking.”  You mumble lazily.

“Hey, girlie.”  There goes the high-pitched voice of your friend.  “Sooo, the girls and I-hush!”  You hear a bunch of girls giggling behind the line and your brows crease together in annoyance.  “We’re going on a party tonight and we’re thinking that maybe you’d liketocomewithus?”

You play with the lace of your dress, eyes just following the patterns when you hear your name being called again over the phone.

“I’m not in the mood for parties.” 

“You are never in the mood for anything anymore.”  She whines behind the line.  Her tone prompts you to sit up to pick up the stale wine you left out in the open for too long.  Taking a sip and ignoring the thin coat of dust it caught after you ransacked your closet for something that made you look confident, only for you to end up squeezing in the dress that Rafe got you as a present for your 13th birthday.  He didn’t pick it out for you, of course, but it still made you all fizzy and bubbly and excited inside.

You put down the wine to scratch at the waistband that is digging on the skin of your under bust, the fabric being stretched beyond its capacity.

“I know.”  You tried to sound apologetic.  “I just can’t, okay?”

She sighs, making you let out a grateful sigh.  There’s still some ceiling viewing you had to get back to.

“I’m picking you up at seven.”  She speaks with finality and before you can answer, she continues.  “Please don’t let that awful man get the satisfaction of knowing that he has this much effect on you.”  You can hear her begging behind the phone.  She and the other girls are just looking out for you.

With an unwilling heart, you decide to get on your feet, your socked foot nearly slipping the moment it touches the wooden floor.  Cursing, you finally crouch on the piled up clothes you threw earlier. 

“Fine, I’ll come.”  You roll your eyes.  “Dresscode?”

You hear an airy chuckle and you can imagine her pinching your cheeks if you were within her reach.  “Party’s open to all, Kooks or Pogues.  In the community beach house.  You dress however you like.  I’ll match your vibe, if you’d like.”

This makes a smile creep on your lips.  She’s definitely on the top 10 list of the most annoying people you know but you thank God everyday for a friend like her.  “You know I love you, right?”

She snorts before bursting out in a fit of laughter.  “Duh.  I love you too.”

“See you later.”  You grin.  “Tell the girls I’m coming too.”

“Sure, see you!” 

You hang up and get started on searching for the right outfit.  Well, there’s the classic white flowy dresses, but everybody wears them.  You could wear a short and a cute top, show some belly?  Blech, you’re not exactly in one of your maneater moods.  But perhaps if you covered it with that oversized white pinstriped polo, it could work?  Yeah, something casual yet put together.  It’s not like you’re dressing to impress anybody, or somebody in particular, you’d prioritize comfort over fashion tonight.

A knock on your bedroom door pulls you from your thoughts.  With a shrug, you throw your chosen clothes on your bed.

“Coming.”  You call while trudging over to open the door.  There stood your maid, she was looking anxious, wringing her wrinkly hands.  “What is it?”

She glances at your odd choice of clothing before she looks away so as to not make you uncomfortable.  “Well, uhm, Sir Cameron is here again, miss.  He’s waiting for you downstairs, in the drawing room.”

You press your lips in a firm line.  “Tell him I’m not here.”

Your maid smiles apologetically.  “He…he saw you in your bedroom window before he came in, miss.”

Huffing, you tap your feet impatiently.  “Just tell him I’m busy.”

“He said you’ll say that.”  She mutters, amusement in her tone.  “And he asked us to tell you that he can wait.”

You close your eyes to keep them from rolling.  “Whatever, he can stay as long as he likes, but I’m not coming down to meet him.”  You push the door a little wider and your maid’s eyes widen at the state of your room.  “I’m sorry, I know you’re busy but can you help me clean up?”

The rest of the afternoon was spent tidying up your room. 

It was dark out, a couple of minutes past seven when your phone buzzed.  Knowing that it’s your girlfriends, you pick your bag, filled with the usual party necessities and head downstairs.  It’s a habit, assigning yourself as the responsible friend who stays sober to look after the others.

You are slipping in the pearl bracelet your grandmother got for you last Christmas when you hear your name being called and in instinct, you turn around.

“Oh, right.”  You say with a tone that is drier than the Sahara desert.  “You’re here.”

Rafe’s standing just outside your drawing room, his hands falling to his side.

“Yeah.”  He spoke awkwardly, his eyes glancing at your outfit, familiarity crossing them before he looked at your eyes again.  “I was waiting for you.”

You exhale softly and he just stood there, waiting for your reaction.

“I know.”  You say simply.  “Gotta go.”  You start walking again to your door.

“Wait, Y/N.” He easily catches up.  “You’re…you’re coming to the party, right?”  He asks hopefully.

“Yes.”  You respond without looking at him.

Rafe smiles but it quickly dissipates when he sees a different car waiting for you.  “Hold on, I can drive you there.”  He says quickly, his hand gripping yours just to get you to listen to him.  “I can drive you to the party.”  He says in an uncharacteristically sheepish way.

For a second, you look at him, really look at him.  His smile grows wide.  He missed having your eyes on him.  You’re his best friend, and he’s used to doing everything with you by his side.  He also liked how dependent you were on him too, always asking for his approval.  You have a bit of an overbearing attitude but he would be lying if he’ll say that he doesn’t miss you doting on him too.  Perhaps you’re not the only one who’s dependent on this odd friendship you both have.

“No, thank you.”  You say before pulling your hand away with a sharp look thrown his way.  He watches you walk away to greet your friends.  He’s still stuck there, staring, even after the car drives away.

He doesn’t understand it.

You’re the emotional one, why are you doing so well without him?  You never go to parties with other people, it was always him that you stick close to.  Clinging on him, pulling him to the dance floor when he’s about to do a line of coke, or accidentally knocking his cup when he’s had too much drinks.

Running a hand through his face, Rafe decides to hop on his car and follow you to the party.  You’ll be in the same space as him in the next few hours.  He’ll get another chance there.  He’s certain of it.

He didn’t get the chance.

With you by his side all the time, you memorized his set of activities at parties and you evaded him perfectly.  Rafe decided that it was best to stand by the punch table.  You’d get thirsty eventually, and he’ll be there waiting if you do.

On the other side of the house, farthest from Rafe, there you sit by the porch swing, admiring the push and pull of the waves.  The party was at its climax and everybody was cramped inside the house, dancing and drinking, or doing unholy activities.  You don’t know how you managed to slip away from your friends but you’re glad you did.  You needed the fresh air.

You’re just starting to get comfortable when a man stumbles out the door.  You watch him struggle to keep himself up.  He looked lost? Or just flat out drunk.  You watch in amusement as he scratches his blonde head, he must be having a whiplash from all the blinding neon lights inside and suddenly his vision switches to the bright light provided by the LEDs. 

His feet twist and he starts to fall to the side, your head tilting to follow his fall.  You wince when you hear the loud thud of his body hitting the floor, followed by his muffled but loud groaning.

“Motherfu-”  He sits on the floor, his legs sprawled out in front of him as he shakes his head like a dog.

“You alright, JJ?”  You chuckle.

He whips his head to you, cursing again when his vision spins.  “Y/N?”  He drawls out while rubbing his eyes.  “You saw everything?”

Still laughing, you get up to crouch next to him.  “I did.”  You smile when he groans out again.  “Are you okay?”

He props up a knee and rests an arm there, he looks buzzed, his eyes are heavily lidded as he stares off into the ocean.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”  He glances at you.  “Well, this is a strange sight.”

“What is?”  You mumble as you look away from him, deciding to play dumb.

He shrugs animatedly, hands gesturing to you and the entire space of the porch.  “Usually, wherever you are, your boyfriend is not that far behind.”  He points a thumb behind him.  “And if I wasn’t imagining it, I’m pretty sure I just saw him brooding over the drinks.”

You chuckle dryly as you bring your knees to your chest.  “He’s not my boyfriend.”

JJ looks at you with an unimpressed face.  “That’s all you heard.”

Playfully punching his shoulder, you sigh.  “We fought.”

He frowns, back straightening immediately.  “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”  It’s kind of sweet how your words seemed to have sobered him really quick.

“No!  No, he didn’t.”  You reply right away.  “Well, at least not physically.”

You watch him grimace.  “Outside physical fights, I have little to no idea how to respond.”

“That’s okay, JJ.  I don’t wanna talk about it, anyway.”

He gives you a boyish grin, as if to reassure you before scratching at his jaw, your eyes mindlessly follow his movements and you see a scratch.

“You’re hurt.”  You tell him, pointing at your own jaw.

“Huh?”  He touches his jaw and winces.  “Ow!  Must’ve scratched myself when I…uhm.”

“When you decided to attack the floor.”  You finish for him and he clears his throat.  “You’ll have to disinfect it.”

“Pfft, it’s fine.”  He shakes his head.  “It’s just a scratch.”

But you are already grabbing your bag by the swing and you return with a small kit.

“I forgot to bring wipes.”  You mumble before crouching down in front of him.  He swallows at your close proximity.  “Come on, JJ.  It’s just antibacterial cream.”

He hesitantly shows you his face and you gently apply the cream, tutting when he dramatically pulls away.

You grab his face and tilt it slightly and JJ squeezes his eyes.

“It fucking stings.”  He nearly whines, making you roll your eyes.

“Don’t be a baby!”  You huff and he stays still for a second, allowing you to smear the cream evenly and he rolls away from you as soon as you’re done.

JJ was muttering about God knows what while you’re busy putting your stuff away.  When you sit next to him again, he’s much calmer, a lazy smile back on his face again.

“Thanks, Y/N.”

You throw him a playful glare.  “You’re welcome.”

He touches the scratch and you almost tell him off but he quickly pulls his hand away. 

“Why didn’t Cameron make you his girl?”

You blow out a big sigh.  “He doesn’t like me.”

“Bullshit.”  He laughs but he clears his throat when you look at him unamused.  “Sorry.”

“It’s fine.”  You smile at him genuinely before averting your eyes.  “I wouldn’t blame him.  I mean, you saw how I can be.”  You chuckle this time but there’s no humor on JJ’s face, he’s looking at you rather sadly.  “I care too much and everybody suffocates around me.”

“I don’t.”  He says quickly.  “I was just being dramatic earlier.”  He rubs his nape.  “I’m not used to having people tend to me, I mostly just do it myself.”  He seeks your eyes and you finally look at him. 

You hear a creak behind you but before you can look, JJ cups your face to keep you from breaking your eye contact, making your breath hitch.

“I liked being taken care of like that.”  He whispers and your lips part slightly.

“JJ.”  You say breathlessly and he grins, his face leaning dangerously close to you.  “You’re drunk.”

He gently bites his bottom lip and you have to look away from his blatant flirting.  “I’m sober enough to kiss, I promise.”

This…this isn’t right.  

You gently push him away and his lips immediately form a pout.  “You’re such a kid, JJ.”

He clicks his tongue and angrily stoops as he glares at the ocean.  “You had no idea how long it took me to build the courage to do that.”

“Five minutes?”  You jokingly bump his shoulders, making his act break at the edges, a smile threatening to crack on his lips.  “Seriously, J, I can’t kiss drunk guys.  It’s unethical.”

He mimics you in a childish voice and buries his face on his palms harshly.  He turns to you again, with his hair disheveled and sticking to his forehead and red blotches appearing on some areas of his face.  “I’m not as drunk as you think I am.”  The way he glances at your lips had your throat drying up.  “I really wanted to kiss you.”  Aside from Rafe, you have little to no experience with the male attention and frankly, you don’t know what to do.

You place a hand on his shoulder and stiffly pat it twice.  “You’ll get over it.”

JJ looks at you exasperatedly.  “You’re taking this too lightly, this is my feelings we are talking about.”

You stifle a laughter.  “Oh, so you have feelings for me.”  You raise a brow at him and he nods his head enthusiastically.

“Every guy on this island has a thing for you.”  He says animatedly.  “If it wasn’t for your bodyguard, we would have made our move long ago.”

You are deeply flattered, you can’t resist the girlish smile from tugging on your lips, your cheeks slowly heating up.

“You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

He looks deeply offended and places a hand on his chest.

“You’re the ultimate dream girl, stupid!”  He dodges a punch from you.  “You’re like the total package.  You’re sweet, and smart, you’re also very pretty, you can be funny too when you let loose.”  He wiggles his eyebrows at you and this pulls a laughter from you, a real, genuine laughter that had your shoulders shaking.

“When are you gonna get serious, J?”  Wiping the tears from the corner of your eyes, you get up.  “Wait here, I’ll get us a drink.”

He gives you a two finger salute before lying smack down on the floor, with his arms spread out.  You shake your head, chuckling when you open the door.

And your hair stands on end.

There stood the very person you have been avoiding the entire night.

But for once, he isn’t wearing a scowl or a condescending cocky smile.

He was looking at you like a man defeated and broken.

“Rafe.”  You whisper as you reach for him but you stop yourself before your skin can touch.  He looks at your hand and then your eyes.  You don’t know if it’s the trick of light but you could have sworn his eyes are glassy.

“Hey, Y/N, everything alright?”  JJ calls.

Rafe glances at JJ and then back at you, he nods slowly as he takes a step back.  Your heart aches as you watch him take another step away from you but you will yourself not to follow.  He runs a hand on his mouth and he turns away from you.

You stare at his back as he leaves, torn between choosing your own pride or running after him.  For what seemed like hours, you stood there, frozen.  Still lost in the onslaught of emotions that surged through you.

Not Your Girl • His Girl

[kitten4sannie]

trendsetter

reach for my goals, hit it dead center

pairing: idol ex! mingi x fem! reader

genre: an actual idol au omg, smut

summary: mingi reminds you why he was so hard to leave in the first place, well, the first few times, anyway.

w.c: 3.3k

bc i’m bigger, better

warnings: brief weed use/shotgunning (mingi’s a plug in another life btw <3), mingi’s kinda a dickhead and a master manipulator (damn double homicide), dom! mingi, subby! reader, mingi’s got a big cawk, glove ? kink? idk bro, exhibitionism, teasing, praise/degradation, pet names galore/name calling, tit play, spit, fingering, finger sucking (leads to some gagging), oral (giving), deep-throating, cum eating, grinding, kissing, size kink, breeding kink, mingi fucks reader raw on the hood of her own car hallelujahhhh

a/n: don’t blame me for this btw,, blame mingi mango and the things he’s been posting on ig 😮‍💨 this man makes me delirious istg. also i wrote this while incredibly sleep deprived just so yk !! there might be some grammar and spelling errors (as well as a general sense of lunacy ✨) regardless i hope you enjoy and please do let me know if you liked it bc feedback is like a treat for me and im a treat hungry lil goblin uwu <3

song recs: so damn into you by vlad holiday - come 2 me by johnny goth - liquid by boston manor

Mingi barely made it two steps past one of the various emergency exit doors of the booming, hectic arena, dropping his lighter on the ground when his favorite ex suddenly came waltzing back into his life again after just swiftly exiting it for the nth time.

“Where are my car keys? I know you have them,” you abruptly confronted him, snatching the lighter from the ground before he could grab it and sliding it inside your tank top, right in between your tits.

“Why would I have your car keys, sugar?” Mingi sighed exasperatedly, walking in your direction until he towered over you, gently clasping his calloused hands around your upper arms so he could rub them up and down in an effort to calm you, gently turning you around until your back pressed into the cool metal of the emergency door. “Can you use that pretty little head of yours for me, Y/N? I just performed right now. I was busy rehearsing before that. Do you really think I would take your keys from you just to keep you from leaving?”

“Yes, I do. You always do some fuck shit like this when I try to leave. Every time, Mingi.” Despite the furrow of your brow and the contempt present within your words, you couldn’t help but watch as Mingi’s thumbs began to press into the sides of your tits. When you didn’t say anything, he began to press the rest of his gloved fingers into the softness of your chest.

“Some fuck shit like this?” Mingi asked under his breath, studying your flushed face to gauge your reaction as he squeezed your tits against the palms of his rough hands, rubbing his thumbs teasingly against the thin material of your sports bra until he felt your nipples harden. “You aren’t tell me to stop, baby. Cat got your tongue?”

“I hate you…” you whispered softly, not understanding why you never had the strength to deny him, even in a public, though empty alleyway, even after you just broke up with him only a little while ago.

“You don’t seem to hate this…Your body’s responding to me…” Mingi suddenly pinched your nipples through your sports bra, chuckling at the gasp you let out. He leaned down, bringing his lips to your ear to whisper, “I bet you don’t hate how wet I’m making you right now, either. Is your cunt throbbing for me already, Y/N?”

“N-no…” You bit into your bottom lip when your ex let out a disapproving ‘uh-uh’ as you turned your head to look away from him, squeezing your thighs together, hoping your arousal wouldn’t drip past your short skirt.

With one hand still clasped around your tit to play with it, Mingi brought the other up to grasp your chin, making you face him again, so close that you were breathing in each other’s air, your parted lips almost touching. “You’ll let me check to see if you’re lying, won’t you, sugar? Can I see how many fingers I can fit inside your tight little cunt?”

You hated how much your body and soul still burned for your lecherous ex, hated how desperate you suddenly were for him to have his way with you, but what you hated most of all was the way you whimpered out, “Please, Minnie.”

Mingi groaned softly at the use of his pet name, feeling most of his blood began to head below the belt, letting go of your chin, the both of you watching as his hand disappeared underneath your skirt. He instantly slipped two thick fingers inside you up to the knuckles, despite wearing a pair of thick leather gloves, the both of you moaning at the squelching sound your bare, wet cunt made. “That’s my girl. You wore this slutty little skirt and no panties just for me, didn’t you? You don’t even care about getting out of here with your keys. You just wanted me to put my hands all over you one last time, yeah?”

Just as you were about to respond, Mingi suddenly stuffed his leather-bound fingers into your mouth, making you taste your own warm wetness. “A-aaahn,” you moaned around his moving digits, feeling them slip along your hot tongue, looking up at your ex’s intensely dark gaze.

“Suck,” he simply requested, smiling fondly at the sight of your plush lips closing around his fingers, pushing them further and further back until he made you gag around them, his cock throbbing at the sight of your teary doe eyes. “Oh, baby, if you’re going to be looking at me like that and making those pretty noises, I’m gonna lose it…but, you can take it, right? My fingers in your throat?”

You whined softly, trying your best not to gag more around his moving fingers, relaxing your throat enough so that the only sound that could be heard was your moans and the abundance of saliva in your mouth.

“Good girl.” Mingi slipped his fingers out of your mouth and pressed his lips onto your cheek, whispering, “Can you take my cock down your throat next, pretty girl? I worked so hard to perform tonight, you know. Don’t you think I deserve head from my favorite ex?”

“Uh-huh,” you found yourself agreeing, your head still fuzzy from having his fingers inside your mouth, desperate to have something else warm and thick on your tongue, thankful for the heavy hand that began to push your head down until your bare knees were resting against the cold concrete below.

“Say ‘aaah’,” Mingi cooed darkly from above, expertly undoing his thick belt buckle and lowering his pants until his stiff, reddened cock smacked up into his abdomen. It was then that his hands were drawn to either side of your head, barely giving you enough time to open your mouth before he thrusted forward, the tip of his cock instantly hitting the back of your throat. “Fuckkkk, that’s a good slut. You don’t have to be my girlfriend to be my fuck toy, huh, baby?”

Your moans of approval were instantly muffled by the massive cock that was being stuffed inside your throat by your eager ex, as you reached up to grasp at his hips, the shiny lighter that was still sitting in between your tits starting to jostle around due to Mingi’s rough movements.

Suddenly reminded of his post-concert ritual, Mingi reached into his back pocket and placed a joint between his lips, then fished the lighter out from between your tits, but not before he squished one of them for the hell of it. He rolled the dial on the lighter a few times before a flame sparked, bringing it up and lighting the tip of his joint.

The strong aroma of Mingi’s flower reached you in an instant, having to blink your many tears away to watch him take a deep puff of it and blow it out into your face. Your lips tingling from the immense stretch, you sputtered around his pulsing cock, suddenly pulling away, letting your spit laced lips rest against his leaking tip, weakly licking at the pre-cum that spilled from it. “M-minnie…”

“Why’d you stop?” Mingi grunted, biting on the tip of the joint to keep it from falling from his lips, looking down at you with his sharp, slightly red eyes. Using his free hand to jerk himself off with his cockhead pressed to your lips and smearing his pre-cum over them just for his own enjoyment, he slowly realized what was up. “Oh, you want a hit? Aren’t you precious? Come here.”

Mingi slowly lowered himself down into a crouching position, letting go of his cock to grab your chin with his arousal coated fingers, taking in a deeper inhale, the majority of the joint turning to ash, just as he flicked it away into the gutter. He pressed his lips onto yours in an open-mouthed kiss, neither of you bothering to close your eyes as he slowly filled your lungs with smoke.

Just as you began to choke while trying to exhale all the smoke, Mingi dragged his tongue across your own and over your top set of teeth just because he felt like it, before standing back up. “I bet you’re feeling real good now, baby. That was top shelf.” He spat into the palm of his hand and lubed up his cock, before patting your cheek and sliding himself back into the hot haven that was your throat, not wasting a single second to begin pumping himself inside it again, almost like he had never stopped.

Now that both your body and brain were delightfully clouded with a heavy, lustful high, you felt like you could cum just from getting ruthlessly throat-fucked alone, your nails digging into Mingi’s bare hips, more and more tears and saliva dripping along your flushed skin the longer he abused your tiny throat with his oversized length.

“Fuck, I can’t handle it when you cry and drool like that just from sucking my cock, baby. I’m gonna fucking cum,” Mingi groaned deeply from above you, rested his forearms against the emergency door, thrusting sloppily into your mouth. He let out a few short, whiny moans once he began to shudder, plunging his throbbing cock deep inside your throat and staying still. “Oh, shit, I’m cumming. Take my load, princess, ohh my god, that’s it.”

You swallowed the warm, salty liquid as it shot down your throat, only to open your mouth and present your tongue when Mingi pulled out and began to slowly milk his cock, taking the rest of his load on your tongue, not swallowing and simply letting it drip down, a few drops spilling down your chin and getting onto your tits.

“Mm, that’s my messy girl. You’re waiting for me to feed it to you, huh?” Mingi licked at his plush lips from witnessing your obedient nod, pushing his soft cock back into his pants and waiting for you to stand up so that he could collect some of the cum that had escaped your mouth and pushed it back into your mouth. “That’s right, babygirl, clean it all up for me. Mm-hmm, just like that.”

Once you slurped the rest of his load off of his fingers, you wrapped your arms around Mingi’s neck, pressing your heated body into his. “Mingiiii, please fuck me, I can’t take it,” you begged him underneath your breath, pressing your lips onto his neck up to his tense jawline.

“Oh, yeah? You can’t live without this dick, can you?” he questioned you huskily, bringing his wrists up to his mouth one by one to pull his gloves off with his teeth, before reaching past your waist to roughly squeeze his warm hands into your ass. When you grimaced up at him, he tugged your skirt up and spread your ass open to run his fingers down your wet slit from behind, making you whimper. “Admit it, and i’ll fuck you stupid, princess.”

Swallowing down any remaining dignity you had along with the remnants of your ex’s load, you lifted one leg up to hook it around his slim waist, allowing him easier access to you wet cunt, shuddering at the sensation of him shallowly slipping his fingers into and out of you just to tease you. “I can’t live without your cock, Mingi, okay? No one fucks me like you do, so please, make me yours.”

Mingi rubbed the abundant wetness around your cunt, licking his lips hungrily, staring down at you past his dark shades. “Right here? Right now?”

“Yes.”

“What if someone sees, princess?”

“I don’t give a fuck if someone sees, just fuck me, please!”

Mingi grinned crookedly, finding deep amusement in your desperation, considering how you were acting just a little while ago. “Where’s your car, baby?”

You pointed down the dark alleyway. “It’s just around the corner over there.”

Mingi looked over his shoulder, then picked you up from the ground, hooking both of your thighs around his waist and carrying you over to your car, massaging his hands into your thighs on the way. “I don’t have any condoms, you know.”

When Mingi laid you down on the hood of your car, the cool metal sending goosebumps up and down your exposed, heated skin, you shook your head and smiled softly. “When has that ever stopped you?”

“Don’t act like you don’t love when I fuck you raw, and leave you stuffed full of my cum…” Still in between your legs, Mingi bent down to leave kisses, licks, and bites along your neck and collarbone, lowering his pants down just enough to free his length, his slick cock growing hard and heavy against your bare cunt. “Fuck, and when I use my fingers to shove my nut back inside your cunt after…mm, I’m honestly surprised you’re not knocked up for me already…”

“Mingi,” you whined disapprovingly, despite the fresh wave of slick coating your ex’s cock as it repeatedly rubbed back and forth along your cunt.

“What, I thought you liked being my cumslut…my little breeding bitch…my pump n’ dump princess…” Mingi recited playfully, teasing your fluttering hole with the tip of his cockhead, just about driving you to the brink of insanity withi his teasing.

“Shut up, Min, oh my god…”

“Why don’t you shut me up then?” he suggested, hovering close enough to your face for you to pull him in for a desperate kiss that consisted mainly of tongue and teeth, your mouths occasionally making contact in between tongue swipes and lip bites, the both of you panting all the while.

Growing impatient, you slipped your fingers into his choppy hair, tugging his head back until your lips parted, a few strands of saliva still connecting them. “If you don’t put your cock inside me in the next two seconds, I’m going to bite it off. You hear me, Song Mingi?”

Groaning breathily when you tugged at his hair again, Mingi let out a few soft chuckles, taking his shades off and setting them down on the corner of the hood. “Using my government name like that….I must’ve teased you too much. My poor angel, so desperate for cock. I’ll fuck you good, baby. I’ll make it up to you,” he sighed, as he wrapped his fingers around his length, guiding the tip to your entrance and sliding all the way in with ease, the both of you letting out obscene moans. Without any hesitation, Mingi began to buck his hips wildly, his metal belt banging against the hood of your car with each thrust. “Oh, fuck. You feel that? Is it good for you?”

“Yes…!” you cried out, barely about to speak, let alone function, now that your beloved ex was rearranging your guts with his colossal cock.

Huffing, Mingi threw your legs up over his shoulders and laid his body weight on you, essentially folding you in half. He ran his tongue along your jaw, before nipping at it, whispering, “God, you’re always so fucking tight, princess. Gonna milk me for all I’ve got, huh? Cuz’ you’re my good little slut, aren’t you?”

“Uh-huh, just for you, Minnie…”

“Mm-hmm, that’s why you’re still here even after you broke up with me earlier, baby…why you’re taking my cock on the hood of your car where anyone can see you…” Mingi continued, squeezing his hands into the plumpness of your thighs, getting a good grip on them, so that he could drive himself into you as hard as he possibly could, punching short, breathy moans out of you. “You sound so pretty for me, baby, and fuck, you’re so wet right now….You’re gonna cream all over my cock, aren’t you?”

As soon as it felt like Mingi’s oversized cock had slammed directly into your cervix, you let out an abrupt yell, an overwhelming amount of pleasure suddenly shooting through your body like lightning. “Fuck…! I’m cumming, Minnie, it’s so– oh my god.” You were gonna start whimpering and crying when Mingi gently placed his warm hand over your mouth, watching him nod his head knowingly at you, his suddenly softened gaze never leaving yours.

“That’s a good girl, such a good girl for me, Y/N,” Mingi sighed against your ear, the hot, wet sounds of your bodies colliding together and the ringing inside your ears almost too loud for you to hear him properly. Feeling your wetness pour out onto his cock, Mingi let go of your mouth and cradled your face instead, pressing slow, meaningful kisses onto your lips, a few drops of sweat dripping along the shaved sections of his hair just as your trembling fingers drifted along it. “Want it inside, yeah?”

“Yeah…” you whispered against his moving lips, not even realizing when you were clutching him impossibly close to you.

“That’s my baby…” Mingi pulled all the way out, your mixed arousal forming a milky foam around the base of his cock, before he slowly pushed all the way back in, just in time for him to paint your insides white with his seemingly endless load. He hugged you close to him all the while, pressing kiss and kiss onto your lips, face, and neck, knowing that your turbulent time together was about to come to an end, and wishing he could turn the clock back to spend another second with you.

Once your highs began to fade, you cleared your throat and slowly sat up, the both of you silently fixing your disheveled clothes and hair in a poor attempt to look presentable in the case of a random passerby.

“So…since you don’t have my keys, I’m not sure how I’m gonna get out of here,” you sighed, about to push yourself off of the hood of your car when Mingi helped you off instead, annoyed that he was suddenly acting gentlemanly when he had shown you nothing of the sort beforehand.

Smiling apologetically, Mingi fished around in one of his pockets and held your keys up to you. “I took them out of your purse before the show started.” Seeing the anger blossom on your pretty, flushed face, he continued, “Listen, I just wanted you to hear me out before you left and never came back to me, baby. I love you.”

You snatched the keys out of his hand and crossed your arms over your chest, leaning back to sit on the hood of your car, keeping your thighs pressed together to keep everything from leaking out of you. “You don’t get to say that after you just made me your ‘pump n’ dump princess’, you idiot.”

“But I didn’t dump you, Y/N. You’re the one who dumped me!” Mingi whined, his lower lip jutting out in a pout, his brown eyes growing wide and puppy-like.

You couldn’t help but begin to laugh, not only at the ludicrous situation you were both in, but at the truth of his statement. Wiping a tear from your eye, you clicked your keys to unlock your car and walked around to the driver’s side.

“Where are you going? Are you leaving me?”

“No, we’re going to the store to get Plan B, dummy. I’m not about to let Mingi Jr. run around and terrorize the city,” you replied, gazing at your ex, the sight of his childlike amusement making you feel a bit soft towards him.

“I call shotgun!” Mingi called, eagerly heading to the passenger door, practically bouncing on his heels.

“There’s only two of us,” you giggled, sitting down in the car with him.

“For now.” Mingi wiggled his eyebrows at you.

You turned the ignition on, shaking your head, the corners of your lips hurting from how long you had been smiling. “Never say that shit again.”

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[munsonsmixtapes]

Do Me a Favor?

Find part two here!

Eddie x fem!shy!bestie!reader

Summary: you buy some weed from your best friend Eddie and after shotgunning from him, you both find yourselves wanting more

word count: 6k

cw: MDNI 18+, smut, oral (f receiving)

The cold air nipped at your skin as you knocked on the trailer door. You tightened your cardigan around you as waited for someone to answer, wondering what the hell you had been doing there. You didn’t smoke weed. You didn’t buy it either, but maybe you just wanted to see the cute metalhead who was supposedly the best dealer in town, even though he was one of your closest friends and let you come over whenever you wanted.

You had been friends with Eddie Munson since that one time he helped you pick the books that you had dropped when someone had bumped into you in the hallway in the tenth grade. He had grabbed your copy of Lord of the Rings and the two of you yapped about it all the way to the cafeteria where he let you sit with his group.

After letting you sit with him every day, he eventually asked you to join Hellfire Club and you happily agreed. Not long after, the two of you found yourselves hanging out outside of the club, occasionally getting dinner or watching a movie at your house.

Over time, you started to develop romantic feelings because how could you not have? Eddie was just so sweet and caring and he looked out for you like no one else did. And maybe it was silly to crush on your best friend, but you couldn’t help it. Aside from his charming personality, he also happened to be very easy on the eyes.

The door opened, pulling you out of your thoughts and there Eddie was on the other side, looking like something out of your dreams in his cropped band t-shirt and sweatpants that he had rolled down a few times, giving you a great view of the patch of hair that was right under his belly button.

“Y/n?” He asked, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. He hadn’t been expecting you, but couldn’t help but feel intrigued to know why you were there.

“Hi, Eddie,” you nodded at him, not quite able to look him in the eye. You had hyped yourself up on the way there, but now that he was actually standing in front of you, you were feeling shy.

“What are you doing here?” He scratched the back of his head, causing his shirt to ride up even more and your mind suddenly went blank. “Thought you had to work.”

“I just got off and I um-I was wondering if I could buy some weed from you.” Eddie laughed at that. He always saw you as an innocent little thing who did everything she was supposed to. A goody-two-shoes that never broke the rules.

“Well,” he let out a chuckle. “I never thought I’d see the day.” Though, he kind of liked the idea of selling weed to you. Not only was it a funny thought, imagining you actually smoking the stuff, but it seemed like you were on edge every time he saw you and he thought you could use something to calm you down.

“We’re not in high school anymore. I’ve changed.” There was a little truth to your statement, but not much. The only thing that had changed about you since high school was that maybe you had a little more confidence and that you had finally gotten your braces off. Other than that, you were pretty much the same.

“So you have,” he nodded. “Well, why don’t you come inside and I’ll show you what I’ve got?” He held the door open for you as you stepped inside, letting it slam behind you. You looked around the place, loving how cozy it felt, especially since you were no longer in the cold weather. You rubbed your hands up and down your arms as you stepped further inside, trying to bring some more warmth to your body. You should have known that it was going to be a bad idea riding your bike across town without a jacket, but the damage was already done.

“The stuff’s in my room if you want to follow me.” Eddie couldn’t help but notice how quiet you were, but he had to admit that he thought it was cute. He knew that that was just who you were, but he couldn’t help but feel like he was making you feel nervous. He didn’t want you to feel pressured into taking the weed if you really didn’t want it. He didn’t know why he cared so much, it was just a normal sale.

Except it wasn’t. You were his best friend and had no experience with drugs whatsoever. He wanted to know why you had a sudden interest, but didn’t feel like it was his business to ask, no matter how close the two of you were.

Eddie had always thought you were pretty, but also thought that you were out of his league. He was the town freak and you were the shy girl who always had her nose in a book. He didn’t think that the two of you were exactly a great match. He didn’t want anyone starting rumors about you too, so he let you slip through his fingers. He decided that he was already risking enough by being friends with you.

But now there you were, standing in the doorway of his room, somehow having gotten prettier since he had seen you a few days ago. You were avoiding his eye contact, staring at the desk that was behind him. You were eyeing the stack of books that were sitting on top of it, wondering what they were, noticing that they were different than the ones that had been there before.

You slowly stepped further into the room, making a beeline for the stack, noticing that they were all new books. You slowly looked at all the covers, most of them being ones you had never heard of, but you were interested in every single one as soon as you read the back. Your face lit up at the book that was on the very bottom. It was your current favorite fantasy novel that you had read more times than you had cared to admit, but you had lost your copy and hadn’t been able to get a new one. You opened the book and let out a gasp at the little signature on the first page, wondering if he had bought it like that or if there was a signing that you didn’t know about.

Eddie watched you, still finding the way that you mumbled to words that were printed on the books to yourself adorable. For a second, he had completely forgotten why you were there. For a second, he had been convinced that you were there to hang out with him like usual.

“I can’t believe you have a signed copy of this.” You turned to face him, showing him the signature. He just let out a chuckle at that, finding you even more adorable. He didn’t think he had ever seen you so animated in the years that he had known you. “How did I not know this?”

“Oh, yeah, I got it a couple weeks ago,” he shrugged. “I honestly forgot that I had it.” The thing had been sitting on his desk since after the signing and he really had forgotten about it, his obsession with it being completely abandoned for another. “You can…keep it if you want.” Your eyes lit up at his suggestion but you quickly slumped your shoulders.

“Oh, no, I couldn’t take it from you.” You set the book back on the desk, knowing that you would have felt bad taking something like that from him. Even though it looked like it hadn’t been touched in a while, you could tell that it meant something to him.

“No,” he shook his head, moving towards you. He took the book and shoved it into your hands, his touching yours as he did so. “Take it, l/n. Please. It’s just been collecting dust here and a thing like that deserves to go to a good home.”

“Are you sure?” His eyes bored into yours to show you how serious he was and you couldn’t help but stare into them. They were hypnotizing, so brown and pretty. You had always been a sucker for brown eyes, especially Eddie’s. You knew that you’d do anything he asked just by looking into them, and you were sure that if he knew that fact, he would have gotten you into trouble.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.” His hands were still on yours and you were so aware of his touch, loving how soft but rough his skin was. You could feel the cold metal that was his rings against your fingers that was mixed with the warmness of his hands. You just wanted to take them into your own, interlacing your fingers with his.

Eddie took the book from your hands and removed one of the straps of your tote bag from your shoulder and let the book fall inside before putting the strap right back. A smirk kicked up at the corner of his lips and you stared at them, thinking about how kissable they looked. They were so pink and plump and you just wanted to know what they felt like slotted between yours.

“Just so you don’t think about leaving it here,” he winked then turned on his heel to head to his bedside table. He pulled out a tin lunchbox from the bottom shelf and set it on the bed before opening it. He rifled through it, pulling out multiple plastic bags, trying to remember if he even had anything for a beginner. Most of the stuff he had was for people with a much higher tolerance and he didn’t want to start you on something you couldn’t handle.

Eddie found just what he was looking for at the bottom of the lunchbox and held it up to the light just to make sure, then nodded. He then closed the lunchbox and put it back where he found it and sat down on the edge of his bed, patting the spot next to him. You hesitantly sat down next to him, so close to the other end that if you sat any farther away from him, you’d fall to the floor.

Your heart was racing in your chest. You weren’t even going to smoke the stuff, you just wanted to be able to say that you bought some. Once you got home, you had every intention of throwing it into a drawer, never to be touched again. You just were afraid of what it would do to you so you definitely weren’t going to smoke it alone. That was just too scary. Maybe if you had more confidence, you could have asked him to smoke it with you.

“How much?” You asked, reaching for the money you had in your pocket and Eddie just shook his head.

“No need, l/n,” he rested his hand on top of yours to stop you. “First one’s always free,” he winked and your cheeks flushed.

“Could you do me a favor?” You asked, not even thinking about the words that were coming out of your mouth. Eddie titled his head to the side, wondering what you could have possibly wanted him to do for you.

“Anything,” he nodded quickly, ready to do whatever you asked, no matter how weird or ridiculous. “You know that.”

“Would you…want to smoke with me?” That was the last thing he was expecting to ask. He didn’t think that you ever want to get high with him.

“Yeah, sure,” he shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant about the whole thing. He hoped you couldn’t hear how hard his heart was beating his chest as he suddenly felt nervous about the whole thing. “You really want to?” He just wanted to be sure before he started anything.

“Please.” The words came out more desperate than you had intended, but you didn’t even care. You were just happy that he said the words you had been afraid to. Now you didn’t have to worry. He'd be right there to help you if something went wrong and you were sure that he wouldn’t judge if you did something that wasn’t right.

“Alright, well, I’m just gonna roll this up, okay?” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder at his desk as he held up the baggie with his other hand. You felt a weight lift off your shoulders as Eddie gave you a reassuring smile, standing from his bed.

You just nodded in response and he pulled his chair out, sitting at his desk, getting to work. You stayed on the bed, not wanting to get into his space, just letting him do whatever he needed to. You sat patiently, trying not to think too much about what you were doing or you were going to back out. You only got one chance to smoke with your crush and you were going to take it.

Once Eddie had the joint all rolled up, he turned in his chair to face you then made his way back to the bed, sitting down on it hesitantly. Your comfort was his top priority and he was fully prepared to stop everything if you didn’t want to continue.He turned to face you, giving you his full attention. He had never smoked with a first-timer, but he still knew exactly what to do. He wanted to give you options, letting you have full control of the situation.

“So, we can either take turns or we can shotgun, which is where I inhale the smoke and blow it into your mouth. Whatever you want to do is fine with me.” He was being so sweet and gentle and it was getting really difficult for you to not fall for him even harder. You weighed your options and decided that shotgunning was probably the best idea. That way, there was less of a chance that you’d choke and maybe you just wanted to be close to Eddie.

“Can we…shotgun?” You words came out unsure and Eddie’s eyebrows furrowed, wanting to make sure that was actually what you wanted. You nodded enthusiastically, scooting closer to him again. “That’s what I want to do.”

“Then let’s do it.” Eddie turned to grab his lighter from his bedside table and smiled to himself since he had secretly wanted you to pick shotgun. He wanted to be able to touch you, to feel your lips on his, the whole idea making him a little hard. Once he had the lighter, he put the joint between his fingers before holding the lighter out to you. “Wanna do the honors, cutie?”

“Sure,” you nodded and took the lighter from him. You sparked the lighter up and cupped your hand around the joint like you had seen in movies and let it catch the flame before pulling away. You kept hold of the lighter as Eddie beckoned you forward with his free hand.

“C’mere,” he said and you obeyed, moving so you were sitting crisscrossed in front of him. He mimicked your actions and you both got so close that your legs were touching. “Make sure the smoke is in your mouth before inhaling, okay? Don’t want you choking.” You just nodded and Eddie took a drag and held the smoke in his mouth as you leaned forward even more. Your lips parted and Eddie reached up to your face slowly, giving you a look as if asking for permission.

“Do what you need to do,” you told him and his fingers took hold of your chin. His thumb reached up to your bottom lip and he pulled it down as if asking you to open your mouth wider. After it was wide enough, his hand moved to your cheek, pulling your face to his. He gingerly opened up, pressing his lips to your before pushing the smoke into your mouth. You did as he instructed and waited until all of the smoke was in your mouth before you took a deep breath.

Eddie leaned away so you could exhale, gauging your reaction to make sure that you were okay. Just from your first hit, you had been doing a lot better than other first-timers he had seen. Sure, you had only done well because he had told you what to do, but he still thought that you were a natural.

“I don’t feel anything.” Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you still felt very sober and Eddie just laughed in response.

“You’re not going to feel anything right away, hon.” His hand moved to your shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “Do you want another hit?”

“Yes,” you nodded and Eddie took another puff and held the joint away from the both of you as he grabbed hold of your waist, pressing his open mouth to yours once again. He blew the smoke into your mouth and you inhaled before you were supposed to, pulling away to cough into your arm. You had been so focused on the way Eddie’s lips felt against yours that you had completely forgotten what you were supposed to do.

“You okay?” He asked, his hand moving to your back, giving it a sympathetic rub. You just held your thumb up as an indication as you continued to cough. “C’mon, let’s go get some water.”

He stubbed the joint out onto his desk then took you by the hand, pulling you from the bed. You continued to cough all the way to the kitchen and couldn’t believe that you had ruined the good time you were having because you had gotten distracted.

Eddie quickly grabbed a glass from one of the cabinets and filled it up with water from the tap before handing it to you. You quickly gulped down as much of the beverage as you could and let out a sigh of relief as you set the empty glass down on the counter.

“You okay? You good?” He asked, the words rushing out of his mouth. He stood in front of you, his hands resting on your back, rubbing up and down in a comforting manner. You leaned into him, your forehead pressing against his chin.

Eddie didn’t know why he felt the need to comfort you and why it had become second nature to him when he was never good at or liked it, he didn’t know. Anytime he was around first-timers who inhaled improperly, someone else always stepped in to help while he watched from the sidelines. But now, there he was, fully prepared to give you whatever you needed.

“I’m good,” you assured him, your arms wrapping around his waist. “Can you just…hold me for a second?”

“I can hold you for all the seconds, honey.” You weren’t sure where the little nickname came from, but you were eating it up, wanting him to say it anytime he referred to you.

You pulled back to look at him and your eyes immediately shifted to his lips. You watched him wet them with his tongue, the wet sheen making them look even more inviting. It was like he was doing it on purpose, trying to torture you by dangling it in your face, knowing that you wouldn’t do anything about it.

Before you could stop yourself, you pressed your lips to his in a lingering peck before quickly pulling away. An embarrassed flush made its way upon your face and you covered your lips with the pads of your fingertips.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

You turned to leave and Eddie didn’t let you get far. He grabbed hold of your wrist and turned you around to face him. He took no time to cradle your face in your hands and capture your top lip between his two. Your hands found his waist and you pulled him to you so he was flush with your body. The kiss was slow and sweet, as if the two of you had all the time in the world. It was everything you had ever hoped, everything you could have ever imagined.

“Don’t ever apologize for that,” he insisted against your lips. “You have absolutely no idea how long I’ve wanted this.” That made you stop in your tracks. You quickly pulled away to look at him, your eyes widening.

“How long?” You were desperate to know exactly how long he had felt that way about you so you could see how much your crushes had overlapped each other.

“Since high school. Almost kissed you that night when I drove you home from Hellfire and I’ve been kicking myself ever since because I didn’t.”

You had remembered that night so vividly. You had ridden your bike, but Eddie had insisted on giving you a ride home. The two of you had talked the entire time about everything and nothing, occasionally giggling at little jokes that you had shared with each other. Even after Eddie had pulled into your driveway, you still sat there, neither of you wanting you to leave. You had noticed him leaning towards you, but you didn’t want to make any assumptions, so you just said your goodbyes and you just felt embarrassed for thinking that he was going to kiss you when it had been clear that he hadn’t.

All that time, you could have sworn that he was going to kiss you and you had been right. You actually hadn’t been delusional for once. For once, the guy that you had feelings for actually reciprocated them and you couldn’t have been more elated.

“Well, now you can make up for lost time.” Your hands rested against his back.

“Don’t mind if I do.” Eddie pulled you back in for another kiss, this one more rough and messy, the two of you so desperate for the other, taking exactly what you wanted from each other.

Eddie’s hands moved to your cardigan and he undid the first button so slowly, giving you a chance to back out if you wanted to. Once he got the okay to continue, he undid the rest and pushed it off of your shoulders. You removed it from your arms and let it fall to the floor.

You let your hands trail up his back and you pulled onto the bottom of his shirt before pulling it over his head. Once it was removed, he threw it to the side, grabbing hold of your waist again. His hands slipped to the strip of skin between the top of your jeans and the bottom of your tank top that had ridden up as he backed you up to the counter, your back hitting it.

He helped you get up on top of it and you spread your legs, Eddie stepping between them. His mouth was quickly on yours again as he licked into it, his tongue roaming around it as if he was trying to taste every single bit of it.

You let out a moan as his tongue swirled around yours and your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him as close to you as possible. His hands traveled up your shirt and moved to your bra, his fingers resting on the clasp as if asking to take it off.

“Take it off,” you commanded. “Please.” The word came out like a whine and Eddie was happy to oblige, quickly unhooking the clasping before removing the straps from your arms and sliding the whole thing down and pulling it from your tank top. He tossed it behind him then looked at you, searching your face for any sign of hesitance.

“Are you sure you want to keep going?” He licked his lips, his chest rising and falling from being out of breath from your lips being attached. He would have never forgiven himself if he had done something you weren’t comfortable with. He just wanted to be one hundred percent sure.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life, Eds.” Your hand moved up to his cheek, stroking it with your thumb. “I’ve been thinking about this a lot and I want you to be my first.”

“Your first?” His eyes widened. He honestly had no idea that you were a virgin. “Y/n, are you sure you want it to be me?” Eddie wanted to be sure that it was actually what you wanted. That you were doing it with someone you cared about and he wasn’t sure he deserved to be your first.

“Very sure,” you nodded. “You’re the only one I trust to do it.” He felt his cheeks blush at your words, knowing that they meant that you had thought about having sex with him and his dick was getting harder by the second.

“Y/n, you have no idea how honored I am that you want it to be me, but I just want to be sure that you really want this.” Eddie thought it was the greatest honor of all that he was the one that you wanted to lose your virginity to and considered himself the luckiest man alive because of it.

“I’m sure,” you nodded. “I’ve thought about this a lot.”

“Oh, have you?” He teased and pressed another kiss to your lips. “Wanna move this to the bedroom?”

“I’d want nothing more.” Eddie’s lips slotted between yours once again and his hands moved out from under your shirt and wrapped around your waist, pulling you from the counter. Your ankles locked at his back and he carried you to his room, your lips still in the middle of a messy kiss.

He entered his room and slammed the door behind him with his foot, hurrying the two of you to his bed. He collapsed onto it and you fell on top of him. He then sat up and looked at you with a serious look in his eyes.

“I just want to let you know a few things before we get started,” he said, his hands resting on your thighs.

“Okay,” you nodded, ready to listen to whatever he needed to say.

“First, if I go too far or you don’t like something or even if you don’t want to continue, don’t be afraid to let me know. This is all about you, okay?” You just nodded in response and Eddie licked his lips before he continued.

“And on the opposite end, don’t be afraid to let me know what you do like. If you like something, feel free to make noise, and you don’t have to be embarrassed about being too loud. There’s no such thing.”

“Got it,” you nodded, looking him in the eyes so he knew that you completely understood what he was saying. You were desperate to get on with it already, but felt like you owed it to him to listen to what he was saying since it seemed pretty important.

“Do you want to start or should I?”

“You do it.” You wanted him to take the lead since he knew exactly what he was doing.

“Okay,” he replied, leaning towards you, his face only inches from yours. “Just gonna kiss you for now, okay?”

“Mhm,” you nodded and his lips attached to yours again. You felt a little more confident and you were the one to stick your tongue into his mouth, mimicking what he had done earlier, slowly laying him down onto the bed, removing your shirt as you did so. You then leaned down and pulled him into a kiss, your bare chest against his. Eddie brought his hands up and grabbed hold of your tits, the pads of his thumbs massaging your nipples, just enough to make them hard and you made a noise that he knew that he was going to grow very fond of.

Eddie pulled away from you, his mouth immediately moving to your tit. He moved his tongue back and forth, licking across your nipple and you moaned. The whole thing was so foreign to you but you liked the feeling.

Just as you were getting used to it, he took your nipple between his teeth and gave it a pull, causing your hands to move to his hair, giving it a yank. Eddie took that as an invitation to continue and moved to the other nipple, giving it the same attention. You gave it his hair another yank and let out one more moan, trying your best to not be self conscious about how loud you were.

“That’s it, honey,” he said, licking another stripe along your nipple. “Let it out.” Eddie pressed his lips to the spot between your breasts then flipped you over so that your back was against the mattress. He pressed open mouthed kisses all the way down to your stomach and stopped when he got to the top of your jeans.

“These look great on you,” he complimented. “But I’d think they’d look better on the floor. Can I remove them?”

“Yes, please.” He took no time to unbutton them and pulled down the zipper before pulling them down your legs and tossing them to the side. He pressed a kiss to the spot above your underwear then looked up at you for permission to remove them.

“Take them off, Eds. Please. I need you.” Your words came out so whiny and Eddie felt himself getting even more hard.

“Yes ma’am,” he responded before taking your underwear off. He was about to throw them on the floor, but you stopped him, putting your hands over his.

“You should keep them,” you told him. “To remember this night.”

“Isn't that objectification?” He liked the idea of keeping your underwear, but also kind of felt like he was treating you like an object by doing that.

“Not if I say it isn’t. Put them in your pocket.” Without a second thought, Eddie put the underwear into his back pocket before resting his hand on your knees, pulling you in for a bruising kiss. He then spread your legs open to get a peek at your pussy which was sopping wet.

“Wow,” he said, noticing that there was already a stain from where everything had leaked out onto his bedding. “This might be the wettest pussy I’ve ever seen. Mind if I get a taste?”

“I wouldn’t mind at all.” Eddie climbed off of the bed as he pulled you to the end of it. He then got onto his knees before throwing your legs over his shoulders. He looked up at you one more time for any signs of hesitance and when he saw how eager you looked, he slowly pushed his head between your thighs, burying his face into your cunt.

You let out a gasp as his nose brushed it and gripped the blanket as he licked a stripe from your slit to your clit. He swirled his tongue around the area and you couldn’t keep your sounds to yourself anymore.

“Oh, Eddie,” you moaned, your fingers gripping more of the blanket as he worked his magic with his tongue. He grazed the sensitive spot with his teeth and you whimpered which let him know that he could continue. He applied a little more pressure with his teeth, loving the sounds that the action elicited from you.

“So good, Eds. Need more.” You were desperate for whatever he was going to give you, not caring at all what it was, just as long it felt as good as him giving you head.

“Oh, this is just the appetizer, hon.” He dove into your cunt once more, shoving his tongue inside of it, causing you to moan the loudest you ever had.

“Fuck, Eddie, more.” He swirled his tongue around and around and you made the most beautiful sounds he had ever heard in his life, knowing that they’d still ring in his head after the night was over.

After a couple more moans, he removed his face from your pussy and practically threw himself on top of you, pressing his lips to yours in a filthy kiss, his tongue swirling around your mouth.

“See how good you taste, honey?” He asked. “Wanna taste you all the time.”

“And I’ll let you,” you responded. “Whenever you want.”

“I love the sound of that.” He slotted his lips between yours in a dizzying kiss before pulling away. He then reached for his bedside table and pulled the drawer open before taking out a condom, not even bothering to close the drawer back.

“I don’t think I’m ready,” you told him, your voice barely above a whisper. You knew he wouldn’t ever judge you, but still couldn’t help but feel like he was going to be mad at you. He let the condom fall to the floor then moved himself back on top of you, his hands taking yours, intertwining your fingers.

“Are you mad?” You looked up at him, and his face softened instantly. He would have never been mad at you for that. Maybe he was a little disappointed, but he thought he would have been wrong to blame your for something like that.

“Baby, no, of course I’m not mad at you.” He shook his head, giving your hands a squeeze. He couldn’t have been mad at you if he tried.

“Promise?” You needed constant reassurance or your brain would convince you that he was lying.

“I promise, honey,” he nodded. “How about we put on some pajamas and watch a movie? Anything you want.”

“I’d like that,” you nodded. You really had thought you were ready, but the whole thing still scared you. You really enjoyed everything leading up to it, but still found the penetration part to be too much for you at the moment.

Eddie rolled off of you and pulled out a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants out of his dresser before tossing them to you. You threw them on while he headed to the bathroom to get ready for bed and still felt anxious about him being mad at you. What you had was so good and you were convinced that you had ruined it.

“I’m not mad at you,” he called from the bathroom. He knew you too well sometimes, always somehow knowing exactly what you were thinking. He knew how prone you were to overthinking and was always there to reassure you that your thoughts were in fact not true.

Eddie emerged from the bathroom and threw on a shirt before throwing himself onto the mattress and rolling back on top of you. He pressed another bruising kiss to your lips, his hands reaching for yours again. He then pulled away, a grin breaking out on his face as he looked down at you.

“I’m not mad at you,” he repeated, burying his face into your neck, snuggling into it.

“I know,” you replied, just like always, but he was never convinced, even though you really did know that he wasn’t mad at you.

“I’m not mad at you,” he said one more time, pressing a kiss to your neck before rolling off you.

He reached for the remote to his tv and turned it on before pulling you to his chest. You both watched the screen mindlessly while your arms wrapped around him. One of his arms draped across your waist while the other hand stroked your hair, something he always did to bring you comfort.

You looked up at him as he watched the tv and couldn’t help but feel lucky to have a best friend like him. Someone who was always there for you no matter what. Someone who would never judge you for anything, no matter what he really thought about it. Someone who you were completely and one hundred percent head over heels for. And maybe, just maybe, one of these days you’d get the guts to tell him how you really felt.

[atlabeth]

family line

pt 2

pairing: spencer reid x gideon!reader

a/n: pardon the end where i just go into endless conversation for no reason but i cannot control myself. anyways thank you sosososo much for all the love on the last part and gideon!reader as a whole it makes me so happy!! enjoy some dad-daughter-spence car convos(arguing) and some elle time

wc: 3.8k

warning(s): the usual! r and gideon argue, gideon is not a good dad(but theres some reconciliation), angst, hurt/comfort, but some fluff between r and gideon & spence. more of a set-up chapter

The drive over to the safe house is a long one, and unfortunately, not a quiet one. 

Spencer takes the back seat, leaving shotgun for you with your dad. He spends the entirety of the drive briefing you on what living in a safe house will entail, all the things you can and can’t do. 

You can’t use your phone because it could be tracked. You can’t leave the place without Spencer because you are, in fact, being stalked. You’re not to reveal anything about your location to anyone—you’re basically shut off from the world until the unsub is behind bars. 

And once he’s done briefing you, he basically starts interrogating you. 

“Have you been contacted like this before in any way?” 

You huff a laugh. “What, with creepy pictures of myself? No.” 

“Anything unsettling,” he clarifies. “A text message, a call, an email— anything that rubbed you the wrong way that you might’ve just passed off as a joke or spam.” 

“No,” you repeat. 

“You’re sure?” 

“How many times do I have to say no?” You pull your phone out of your pocket and stare at your dad. “Go through it if you want. You won’t find anything.” 

He pauses, then he nods. “Reid.” 

You shake your head with a slight laugh, then turn it over as Spencer extends a hand. He flips it open and starts to go through it, and you just cross your arms and stare out the windshield. 

“We should really hand this over to Garcia,” he says. “She’ll be able to do a lot more than I can. I don’t really—”

“Like technology, I know,” your dad finished. “We will. Just trying to get all the leads we can upfront.” 

You sigh, but you keep quiet. You guess you can’t really consider it an invasion of privacy when there’s a stalker after you. 

“We typically talk to stalking victims for a while to figure out their lifestyle and possible suspects, as well as the type of stalker we’re dealing with,” Spencer says. “We don’t exactly have the time for that here.” 

“This unsub has already been watching you for a month, maybe more,” your dad says. “He’s made his first move by reaching out to me—that means he wants us to know about him, wants you to know about him.” He glances over at you. “He wants to scare you. You’re not going to give him that satisfaction.” 

“You’re jetting me off to a safehouse before you’ve even gotten the chance to look into any leads,” you say. “It looks like we’re pretty scared, Dad.” 

“It’s preparation,” he says. “The unsub has made his first move—I’m not going to wait around for him to make another and compromise your safety.” 

“This could also be a lot more dangerous than we think,” Spencer says. You still hear him clicking through your messages, and you’re beginning to regret your decision to turn it over to him. “Our unsub could be someone after Gideon using you as collateral.” 

Your heart stops for a split second and your attention snaps to your father. “What?”

“…It is a likely option,” he says. “Very few people know you as my daughter. Someone who wants to hurt me could try to use you to do it.”

“So I was right,” you say. “This is only happening because I’m your daughter.”

“Do you want me to say yes?”

“Yes!” you exclaim. “Yes— I want you to admit that I’ve missed out on all the positives of you being my dad and gotten stuck with all the negatives!”

“This is not the time,” he says. 

“How is it not the time?” you ask with a laugh. “You’ve said it yourself several times— my life is in danger. There’s someone out there that might kill me to get back at you. What is a better time than this to talk about how shitty of a dad you’ve been?”

“A better time would be when we aren’t this high strung,” he says evenly. “Neither of us are thinking as properly as we should be. We don’t want to say anything we’ll regret.”

“Oh, I don’t think I’ll regret any of this,” you say. “After all, I could be dead soon, right? I should get all those regrets out of the way.”

“Please stop arguing,” Spencer interrupts hastily. “This— this is very uncomfortable.”

You scoff. The flames burn just as bright, but for some reason, you decide to hold them back a bit. 

“I’m sure it’s real hard for you, boy genius.”

The silence lingers. You can tell he wants to say more, but he doesn’t. Your dad, to his credit, doesn’t stoke the fire.

It looks like you’re all capable of restraint today. 

“I— I went through all her messages,” Spencer continues. It irks you that he talks like you’re not here. “There’s nothing suspicious there, at least.”

“Good,” your dad says. “I’ll hand it over to Garcia after I drop you both off.”

“We’re not gonna have a car?” you ask.

“You’ll have this one,” he says. “That’s why Agent Greenaway is following us.”

“Elle’s coming?” Spencer asks, and you see him perk up. You belatedly wonder what that deal is. 

“Just so she can drive me back to the office,” your dad says. “She offered.”

“What’s everyone else doing?” 

“Garcia is digging through some of your personal records for the team,” he says, glancing at you. “JJ is in contact with the local police stations so they’re ready once we have a profile. Morgan and Hotch should be looking through every case I’ve closed to get a running list of suspects.”

“Great,” you say as you lean back in your seat. “Nothing like getting my whole life aired out and put under a microscope.”

“It already is,” Spencer says. “You’ve got a stalker.”

“Thanks, Spencer,” you mutter. “I forgot.” 

-

The rest of the drive goes by with ease—at least, relative to how difficult you’ve made everything else. 

You’re already sick of Spencer Reid by the time you get out of the car. You don’t know how you’re going to survive such close quarters under these kinds of circumstances. 

Another car parks next to you as the three of you get out, and your eyes are drawn to the woman that steps out. 

“Easy drive?” your dad asks. 

“I was right behind you,” Agent Greenaway says. “You drive like an old man.” 

Your dad just barely smiles. “Stay with her, Elle. Reid and I are going to check the perimeter.” 

“You can’t be serious,” you cut in. 

“I already told you I’m not taking chances with this,” he says, and he takes his gun out. “This won’t take long.” 

Spencer takes his out as well—he carries it with both hands, like it’s actually weighing him down, and it’s a bit ridiculous—and they split to cover both sides of the house and the surrounding area. You sigh and shake your head as you cross your arms. 

“He’s certainly spirited,” Agent Greenaway says. 

You huff a laugh. “That’s one way to put it.” 

“I’m Elle, by the way,” she says. “I know we haven’t been formally introduced.” 

You nod your acknowledgment and say your name. “Nice to meet you.” 

She turns to fully face you. “Do you mind if I say a few things?” 

“If it’s about my dad—”

“It’s not,” she interrupts with a wry smile, “I promise.” 

You shrug. “Then sure.” 

“First, I just want to ask if you’re doing alright,” she says. “You’ve gotten a lot dropped on you all at once.”

“I’m as good as I can be,” you say. 

Elle nods, and her eyes soften. “I’m not gonna tell you to take it easy on Gideon. He’s an incredible agent, but that makes it hard to be a good dad.”

You don’t say anything, and she continues. 

“My dad was on the force too. I resented him for a lot of my childhood because he was gone so often, but… then he was killed in the line of duty.”

You frown. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

Elle nods in thanks. “I’m not trying to get sympathy. I’m just saying I know what it’s like.”

You shift your balance and sigh, glancing away momentarily. “Everyone here sees him as a hero, and— and he is. He started this whole thing and you all save lives every day, but it feels like he’s missed my entire life because of it.” You huff a bitter laugh. “I think you all know him better than I do.”

“I think you’re probably right,” she admits. “You deserve to be angry. And honestly, I think you deserve to hate him some for it.” 

You huff a slight laugh. “You’re the one person who hasn’t tried to make me feel bad for it.”

She shrugs. “You’re in an awful situation and it might be because of him. You don’t have to have endless grace.”

“Any chance I can get you to stay in here with me instead of Spencer?” you ask.

She smiles. “I don’t think Gideon wants to stick the two of us in a house together. But I am gonna make sure we catch this guy.”

“These kinds of assholes go after vulnerable women because it gives them the attention they crave,” she continues. “They worm themselves into their lives and disrupt it all and it makes them feel powerful—you have to play to their whims.”

“Sounds like you have a lot of experience with this,” you murmur.

“I have a lot of experience putting away sick men,” Elle says. 

“Do you have any advice, then?” you ask weakly. 

“I’ve only been around you for a few hours, but I already know you’re better and stronger than whatever bastard is after you,” she says. “He wants to control your life. Don’t let him.” 

“Thank you,” you say quietly. “I’m… really glad you’re on my side.”

She smiles again. “Just doing my job.”

Your eyes latch onto your dad as he and Spencer come back around the front, and they both tuck their guns back into their holsters. 

“It’s all clear,” your dad says. 

“And I’m not dead,” you say. “Looks like we’re all doing good.”

He chooses to ignore you, instead looking at Elle. “Did you go over anything with her?” he asks.

She shakes her head. “Just gave some advice.”

“Great,” Spencer says. “Just what I need.”

“Oh, get over yourself, Reid,” Elle says. “You’ll be fine.” 

You don’t miss the look he gives her, and your dad clears his throat. “Can you take her inside and check everything? Reid and I need to talk.” 

He frowns. “We do?” 

“Sure,” she nods. 

You stare at your dad this time, and he doesn’t entertain your annoyance with some of his own. “We’ll be in soon.” 

“Sure,” you repeat. 

You follow Elle in—you don’t feel like getting a lecture on safety just yet—and when you pass a glance over your shoulder, you meet Spencer’s eyes. He was watching you. 

His eyes dart away just as quickly, and you huff the slightest laugh. You don’t know if he’s scared of you or just tired of you already, but whichever one, you don’t really care. If you have to be stuck in this house with him, he has to be stuck in there with you too.

Elle shows you around the place, and it’s nothing special—a one story house with two bedrooms and a noticeable lack of windows, furnished plainly with a couch and a few chairs, a small kitchen table, a television. You’re honestly surprised at how nice it all is. 

But as she takes you on the impromptu tour, you can’t stop thinking about her words. You can’t stop thinking about all of it, honestly. 

A month ago, you were driving home in silence after your dad forgot about the plans you made. A week ago, you were out for drinks with friends. 

Today, you’re hunkering down in a safe house because there’s a stalker after you, and you have to do it with your dad’s stand-in kid. 

That’s what gets you, you think. That you know more about Spencer Reid than anyone at his job knows about you—that your dad ignores you in favor of his work, and instead of trying to fit you into his life, he finds an FBI replacement.

Your jaw clenches. It takes a few seconds for you to realize you’ve completely tuned out Elle, only really coming out of it when she says your name.

“Sorry,” you say. “I was distracted.” 

“I don’t blame you,” she says wryly. 

You’re about to respond when Spencer walks in with your dad. His face is slightly flushed and, as opposed to all the other times, he won’t make eye contact with you. You can only imagine what your dad decided to talk to him about. 

“You showed her around?” your dad asks. 

Elle nods. “The basics. She and Reid can figure out the rest.” 

“Thank you,” he says. He looks at Spencer, who has his hands stuffed in his pockets and is very intently focused on the wall behind you. “Help Elle get the rest of the things out of her car.”

He frowns. “Elle doesn’t need my help.”

“Come on, Reid,” she says as she starts to walk. 

He blinks and nods. “Oh. Uh— yeah.” 

You feel his eyes on you as he goes, but you don’t meet them. You just stare at your father.

“Is it my turn for a lecture?”

His eyes soften as he says your name. “This isn’t how I want things to be between us.”

“Yeah, well,” you shrug, “it takes a decade or two of neglect to get here.”

“You’re right,” he says. “You wouldn’t be in this situation if it wasn’t for me. But I’m going to get you out of it.”

“I hope so,” you say. “Because I don’t really know how Doctor Reid is going to help.”

“Don’t take it out on Reid,” your dad says. “Hate me all you want, but leave him out of it.”

“You’re the one that pulled him into it,” you retort. “He’s more your kid than I am.”

“And I regret it,” he says. Your eyes widen a bit, and it actually gets you to shut up. “I regret that it took something like this for me to be a part of your life again. But I don’t want our last interaction before you’re sequestered for the indefinite future to be a fight.”

“That’s all I’m good at when it comes to you,” you mumble. The wind has been taken out of your sails considerably. 

“And I want to change that,” he says. “But first, we have to get through this. And we’re going to get through it together, sweetheart.” 

The term of affection feels strange coming from him. Ever since your teenage years, he’s felt less like your dad and more like some estranged cousin. You hate it. You hate how unfamiliar everything feels with him. Jason Gideon has been a profiler longer than he’s been a dad and it shows in your every interaction with him. 

But still, your heart aches. You bite the inside of your cheek.

“You promise?” you ask. You feel like a kid again. 

“I promise,” he says. 

Then your dad pulls you into a hug, and for a moment, you freeze. You can’t remember the last time he hugged you. 

Despite the anger inside of you, the bitterness built in your bones, you can’t help it—you hug him back. You practically melt into his arms as you squeeze your eyes shut, trying to stop the sudden threat of tears. 

Because deep down beneath it all, you’re scared. You’re fucking terrified, actually, and right now you’re just a girl who wants comfort from her dad. 

“I love you,” he says. 

“…I love you too,” you mumble.

Neither of you pull away for a good thirty seconds. When you do, you turn around to wipe your eyes, not wanting him to see. You hear the door open and start, but it’s just Spencer and Elle with some bags and boxes. 

“Elle’s got some groceries,” your dad says, clearing his throat. “We’ll deliver more if necessary, but you’ve got the basics for a couple weeks, at least.” 

“And a whole lot of books and movies,” Spencer says, hefting the box in his hands. “Did you know that there have been approximately 122 million unique titles published since the invention of Gutenberg’s printing press in 1440?” 

“That’s less specific than usual,” Elle says. “You sure you’re feeling okay?” 

He frowns. “I couldn’t find statistics on the exact number.” 

“Why were you even looking at those statistics?” 

“I get bored sometimes.” 

Elle just laughs as they continue into the living room. You feel your dad’s eyes on you, and you sigh. 

“I’ll take it easy on him,” you say. “Mostly. Maybe.” 

And he actually smiles. “Thank you.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” you say offhandedly, but you find the slightest smile creeping on your lips as well. You kind of hate it. 

Everything else goes by relatively quickly now that you’re not arguing every single thing—you have to fight your instincts not to, but you manage—and eventually, after another lingering hug and some promises to be safe (and one from Spencer to your dad to keep you safe)—you’re alone in the house with him. 

“So,” you say as you settle on the couch, “this is what the indefinite future is going to be like.” 

“If it makes you feel better, last time we dealt with a stalker we caught them in a few days,” Spencer says. “She watched her for a good while, though.” 

“It doesn’t make me feel better,” you say. “Thanks.” 

“...Sorry.” 

You shrug your indifference and Spencer walks past you, focusing in on some of the paintings hanging on the wall. You’re sure he knows the artist, title, and meaning behind every single one, so you speak up before he can start.  

“What did you and Elle talk about?” 

“How this place doesn’t have a pool,” he says.  

You frown. “What?” 

“Nothing,” he says quickly. “What’d you and Gideon talk about?”

“We fought then made up,” you say. “It was… weird.” 

Spencer looks at you. “How?” 

You shrug again as you cross your arms. “You’ve seen how we are. We don’t exactly get along.” 

“Has he really been that bad of a dad?”

“It’s none of your business,” you say. “But… yes. He’s barely been a dad at all.” 

Spencer shakes his head. “I don’t get that. He’s so different in the field.” 

“That’s why he’s barely been a dad—because he’s so busy here.” You tilt your head. “Don’t you have some facts or whatever on the percentage of fathers that are workaholics?” 

“Well, 89% of dads work full time,” Spencer says. “And fathers typically work around 47 hours a week. But I don’t have anything on workaholics specifically.” 

“Great.” You stand up and walk over to the box of DVDs Spencer set down on the table, and you start rifling through them. “So, what’d my dad tell you about me?” 

Spencer blinks. “What do you mean?” 

“When I came in here with Elle and he kept you out there,” you say. “Did he give you the run-down? Warn you on how difficult I am to be around? Tell you that I hate you?” 

His Adam’s apple bobs. “Uh— no. He just… talked to me. Gave the rundown on everything.”

You hum. “You can tell the truth.” 

“I— I am,” he says. He’s clearly not. “He didn’t say anything bad about you. Promise.” 

“Whatever you say.” You land on a DVD and glance over at him. “How do you feel about Groundhog Day?” 

He shakes his head. “I don’t like Bill Murray.” 

You frown. “That’s ridiculous. How can you not like Ghostbusters?” 

“I love Ghostbusters.” 

“How can you like Ghostbusters but not Bill Murray?” 

“Because I like the concept more than I like him,” he says. “I love Halloween.” 

You shake your head and move on. “Who put these together?”

“I don’t know. Maybe Gideon? Or maybe some random BAU office worker.” 

“It’s an interesting compilation.” You look up at him again. “How about Dirty Dancing?” 

“No.” 

“No reasoning?”

“I don’t feel like dealing with a musical right now,” he says. 

“So you choose to deprive me of Patrick Swayze,” you tut. You grab one movie out of the back and hold it up. “If I put on Goodfellas, will you interrupt every five seconds with facts?”

“...I can push it back to every thirty seconds,” he says. 

“Five minutes,” you say. 

“One minute.” 

“Two.” 

“One forty-five?” 

“Two—take it or leave it.” 

“Technically I have all the power here,” Spencer says. “I can talk nonstop about anything. Putting down a movie narrows that down.” 

“...One fifty.” 

He nods, and you huff a disbelieving laugh as you put the DVD in the player. 

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re ridiculous?” 

“A lot,” he says as he sits down on the couch. “I usually get insufferable or weird or annoying, though. So ridiculous isn’t too bad.” 

“Well, you’re certainly something.” 

“That’s also not too bad,” he says. “I could even take it as a compliment.”

You sigh and pick up the remote before you sit back down. You look up at the clock on the wall and bite back a curse. 

“It’s only been ten minutes,” you mutter. 

“Ten minutes and thirty-four seconds, actually,” Spencer says. “Did you know that Scorsese actually cast real mobsters as extras? The cast members were told ahead of time so they could show the necessary respect to them while they were on set. There’s a whole mafia hierarchy, and only full-blooded Italians—”

“I haven’t even gotten to the start screen,” you interrupt in disbelief. 

Spencer shrugs. “You said every minute and fifty seconds. Not how long I could go on for.” 

You let out another sigh as he continues on. You bet Spencer could probably recite the whole movie from memory if you asked, but you honestly don’t know if you could take that. 

There’s one plus, at least. When you’ve got a human encyclopedia next to you that can spout off whatever information he wants any time he wants, you think you’re gonna have a hard time thinking too much about your stalker. 

You look over at Spencer when you finally make it to the opening scene, still talking but now about the different crime families in the United States. His eyebrows are surprisingly animated when he talks, going up and down depending on his inflection, and you find yourself thinking that it’s charming. 

It’s annoying how pretty he is, and it’s annoying how annoying he is. 

You look away. 

This is going to be a very long lockdown.

[wandaslittleweirdo]

Liar

part 1: precious || masterlist

⋆⋆౨ৎ pairing: 𝚌𝚛𝚊𝚣𝚢!𝚐𝚏!𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚊 ༝༝ 𝚏𝚎𝚖!𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

summary: The truth always comes to light, even if the liar has done everything in their power to try and keep you from it.

warnings: dubcon, smut, mind control, top!wanda, manipulation/gaslighting, drama tehe, strap usage (R recieving), voyeurism, strap blowjob (W recieving), reader sucks wandas fingers (can you tell I have insane oral fixation?), pet names, small mix of praise kink and degradation kink, dom/sub dynamics, overstimulation, strap referred to as dick, Stockholm syndrome, age gap > r is 20 w is 32

A/N: this is absolute filth. but fics r all about imagination and having fun, no one will ever stop me from sharing my disgusting thoughts with the internet

+

this is a dark fic. 18+. wlw. men & minors dni!

⫘⫘⫘ ⫘⫘⫘ ⫘⫘⫘ ⫘⫘⫘ ⫘⫘⫘

It’s been two months since the night of your abduction. You’ve been staying with Wanda and have never been happier.

You remember the day you woke up in her cabin. You were frightened and confused, but she was patient and her peaceful nature soothed you. She carefully explained everything, why you were in her cabin, why you could barely walk, and why you had that cut on your cheek.

You were attacked and chased into the woods. She was your knight and shining armour who had found you laying unconscious in the crunchy autumn leaves while she was hunting. You also vividly recall saying you’d do anything to show how thankful you are, her lips pulling into a big goofy smile.

“Anything, you say?”

And it all just went up from there.

The thought of your life before Wanda never crossed your mind. She always kept you on your toes. One day you’re hiking up mountains with her and the next she’s teaching you how to shoot her shotgun.

“Bam! You got all of the targets first try! That was incredible, Y/N.”

But you didn’t need shooting a gun or slumping your way up mountains to feel like you’re on your toes. Cooking dinner together, watching new shows, going to sleep tangled in each others arms or swimming in the nearby waterfall was just as invigorating, because she made it so.

Wanda took you in and loved you. She feeds you, she shelters you, she protects you. She makes you feel safe and treats you like a princess.

Throughout your bliss, there was only one thing that constantly bothered you. A frustrated thought you kept trying to shove away, but would always float back at some point.

You weren’t allowed to leave the cabin.

Of course, the hunting and the walks were okay, but you could never see what was going on outside of the woods unless it was through the news or Wanda herself. You couldn’t step foot out of the house without Wanda following close behind. When you really acknowledge it, you describe the feeling as if you’re on display, constantly being spied on and never having the privacy every human craves.

Whenever you bring up the fact that she watches you or follows you at seemingly unnecessary times, she explains that it would be rude if you told her she’s being invasive when she’s just protecting you.

She also claims everything outside of the woods is disgusting and you aren’t missing out. She says people are cold and heartless, nothing but a bunch of soul dead blobs walking in their black and white reality everyday.

But in the most peaceful moments, like right now where your arms are wrapped around her torso and your legs tied around one of hers, imitating the position of a clingy koala, everything else doesn’t seem to matter. She gently rakes her hand through your hair and randomly pinches your cheeks, but both sets of eyes remain on the TV.

“You’re lucky, Y/N. We have so much fun together, no one ever goes out and does things anymore! Trust me. Nothing out there is as good as what’s here.”

You reminisce the conversation you had with her the other day, your heart warming as her persuasive words echo through your mind.

Wanda’s right. This is good… I don’t need anyone but her.

“Sweetheart, I have to go to the store. We don’t have any milk or bread.” She taps the top of your head gently, silently asking you to sit up but you only whine and clutch onto her harder. You rub your nose into her soft v neck sweater, feeling her stomach tense as she lets out a dry laugh. “Come on, angel. I’m just getting milk I’ll be home before you know it.”

“That’s what my dad said.” You murmur into the wool. She gasps playfully at your humour, a tiny smile on her lips as she flicked the back of your head in an act to scold you. “Don’t joke about stuff like that miss!”

“No! It’s how I cope.” You rub the back of your head and pout at her, reluctantly sitting up onto your knees while an unhappy crease sits itself between your brows. Her smile widens as she gazes at you, nothing but adoration swimming in those viridescent irises.

She pushes your dishevelled hair out of your face and leans in slowly, eyes fixated on your lips. Her kiss is as gentle as ever, her fingers curling around the back of your neck to pull you closer. Every complaint you were ready to throw at her suddenly slips your mind, and all you can think about is how soft her lips feel moving against yours. The hair framing her face smells of her green apple shampoo, a specific something you grew to obsess over.

“Oookay, have to go now.” She pulls back and swiftly puts herself on her feet. She happily escorts herself over to the door to grab her coat and slip her shoes on, the cocky smile never leaving her face.

You fall face forward into the couch while making various irritated and disapproving grumbles. She slides her arms through the sleeves of her jacket, her smile distorting into a sort of impish grin when she specifically hears the words,

“You’re evil, Wanda.”

“Maybe, but you love it.” She laughs softly before slinging her purse over her shoulder and opening the door.

“See you soon, princezná!” You huff at the sound of the door shutting followed by the click of the lock. You could continue to watch a movie… or you could go into your girlfriends closet and steal her clothes.

Excitement starts brewing inside of you as you spring up from the couch and run into your shared bedroom. You yank the closet door open, taking the sleeve of one of her hoodies and rubbing your face into it. The faint smell of sandalwood and a sweet-spicy cinnamon still lingers on it, and now all you can think of is drowning yourself in the mouth watering autumn scent.

You pluck out a red flannel shirt and a dark blue pair of jeans. But as you flip through her many pieces of clothing, a cardboard box in the corner of her top shelf catches your eye. You frown and push yourself onto your tippy toes, groaning and stretching your limbs until you could finally grasp the package.

The box is covered in a thin layer of dust indicating it hasn’t been touched in a while. You giggle excitedly, box in hand as you run over to your shared bed and make yourself comfortable.

We tell each other everything, she must have some dirty secrets in here..

You place your hand on the lid of the laptop, prepared to open it until a sting of guilt stops you. Your excitement fades into adrenaline as you nervously tap your foot against the carpeted floor.

She’ll tell me about this eventually, right?

But she’s had so many opportunities to say something…

Fuck it.

A puzzled expression takes over your features seeing the computer had only nine screens open. They’re all at least 360p, tv static glitching out a video every five or so seconds. Then you notice where the cameras were pointing too. One in Wanda’s room, one covering the area of her living room, one facing towards the kitchen and the others scattered around outside.

Security cameras?

Your eyes flicker to the red circle flashing in the top left corner of the screen, the capital letters “LIVE” typed in next to it. Then, just below that, an even smaller text with todays date. You click it and a list of options pop up, scrolling down and seeing she installed them in 2015.

You excitedly flip back to two months ago, the day you and Wanda met. You can watch your love unfold all over again but now from a different perspective.

You giddily scrub through the timeline and watch yourself wander around outside, then fast forwarding again until Wanda walks to the door and opens it to you. Your brows pinch together; you don’t seem hurt at all and you’re clearly not unconscious. In fact, you seem wary of her.

Your curiosity heightens as you quietly observe yourself take a seat on her couch and sit there, tapping your lap awkwardly. You skip further ahead and stop when you see Wanda jump onto you. Your hand flies over your mouth, the sickening realisation starting to dawn on you.

She lied to me…

How did I forget everything?

You drag the little dot further through the video, your heart thudding in your ears. A red glow in the darkness of her room causes the frown on your face to deepen and you to scroll back.

You almost forget how to breathe when you see red wisps escape the fingertips of your beloved girlfriend, the red seeping it’s way through the side of your forehead and infecting your unconscious mind.

She does this continuously for minutes, destroying every thought in your head. Your opinions, beliefs and judgments so she can start off with a clean canvas. Everything from your old life comes rushing back, your memories flashing at you like big bright billboards on 2x speed.

Your childhood, your parents divorcing, your bullies in high school and more specifically— the night you met Wanda. Surrounded by tall, thin, white bark trees as the echo of your own voice called after something or someone named Daisy. The disorientation and utter sadness you felt wandering aimlessly. The anxiety you felt in the pit of your stomach while walking up to Wanda’s cabin. Everything that happened that night, including her handing you the drink to then ordering you to put it down.

Clover-

Frankie?

Daisy…

Wanda.

“Y/N! I’m back!” You gasp, quickly blinking away the tears that rimmed your eyes. You slam the computer shut and shove it in its box, clumsily dropping the lid back on and running to put it back into her closet.

You just shut the door when Wanda’s voice startles you from the doorway.

“You okay honey? You look shaken.” You take a step back when she advances, almost like a reflex or a flinch, and it does not go unnoticed by her. She squints ever so slightly, her head tipping to the side.

I don’t know this woman. I need to leave. Now.

“Yeah I’m okay I just.. stubbed my toe.” She tuts, walking over to you and snakes her arms around your waist. “Aww, my poor baby. I bought strawberries though, will that cheer you up?” She whispers into your head and you melt, fingers twitching against the material of her soft coat.

My Wanda..

“T-Thank you, Wands.” This is Wanda. The loving, beautiful and generous Wanda you fell for. But she erased your whole life so she could cage you and keep you for herself.

Don’t get swayed by strawberries! Focus!

She whispers a sweet I love you before kissing your head and turning around. She picks up a thick knitted cardigan laying on the bed and throws it to you. “It’s cold, put this on and I’ll go light a fire.”

She waltzes out of the door and down the short hallway, leaving you a big, confused ball of nerves.

~

Wanda switches on the TV and invites you to sit next to her. You don’t say anything and accept, seating yourself by her no matter how on edge you feel because Wanda knows you. She can tell when you’re hiding something, and if you don’t want to sit next to her after begging her to stay home, something is obviously wrong.

Wanda watches the movie like she normally would. Laughing here and there, playing with your hair or placing a friendly hand on your thigh. You on the other hand have no idea what’s happening in the movie because your mind is racing with thoughts on what you should be doing.

Do I confront her? Do I run away? Do I stay and act like I don’t know anything?

“Hey Wands?” You say without thinking, immediately regretting your words and curse at yourself for acting so impulsively. She hums, eyes still focused on the tv.

“If I asked you a question… would you answer truthfully?”

“Of course, I always do.” She answers, her voice soft with a hint of worry as she pointed the remote at the television to shut it off. You want to believe her over what your own eyes saw, you wish you had never touched or opened that box. Everything would’ve stayed perfect. But sadly, you have to accept the fact that it was never perfect. You were played and life isn’t the paradise she pretended it was.

“I… I found the laptop.” You unwravel yourself from her hold so you can sit up and face her. Your mind so caught up on the anxiety rumbling around in your stomach, you miss the faint crimson flash behind her irises and the tiny tense of her shoulders.

“What laptop?”

“The one hooked up to the security cameras.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, love.” She chuckled, shifting uncomfortably as she shook her head and avoided your frantic stare. You bite the inside of your cheek, gently taking her hand between yours and softening your tone of voice. The last thing you want to do is make her upset or start an argument.

“Okay, then just answer this… What happened the night we met?”

“I told you, I saved you-“

“No Wanda. What. happened?” You enunciate your last words, voice trembling as you desperately cling onto the hope that she’ll tell you what happened and explain why she lied. This is her chance to admit to everything, but she doesn’t take it.

“I’m telling you the truth, Y/N. Why are you questioning me?” You feel burning tears sit behind your eyes and your lips quivers, your patience worn into a thread as you pinch your temple.

This is the woman you love and trust most in the world, it breaks your heart that the foundation of your relationship was built on lies and manipulation. It breaks your heart even more so knowing that the Wanda you thought you knew could just be a fake persona, anything feels possible right now.

“I told you, I found the laptop and saw the security cameras. I know what actually happened.” She lets out a small laugh, your expression changing to one of disbelief watching her shrug as if what she did isn’t that bad.

“Okay… well it’s not a big deal-“

“You made me forget my entire life! I’m scared, Wanda. You lied to me. I want to know who I am, not who you want me to be!” You lose the composure you were holding on to, standing up and throwing your hands around.

She clenches her jaw when you yell these words at her, her nostrils flaring and her eyes poisoned with an ironclad rage. She slowly stands to her feet and you internally kick yourself—regretting how you spoke to her as she looms over you. Her tightened jaw and her slit pupils reminded you of a snake ready to attack, pointing a finger in your face before she speaks her next words.

“You came to me for help. And I helped you. I treat you like a fucking queen and that’s how you speak to me?” Shes not yelling, her voice is quiet but created purely of anger and disappointment. Honestly, you’d prefer yelling.

“But Wanda.. that’s not fair-“

“Don’t you talk to me about what’s fair. I’ve done everything possible to make sure you’re happy and now you’re scared of me?” Tears well your eyes as you stare at her, the salty drops blurring your vision and rolling down your face every time you blink. That familiar lump gets caught in your throat, forcing whatever you wanted to say right back down. You’ve never seen her so furious, and you never expected to be the reason for her to be.

“I know the life you lived before me. You lived alone with two bunnies, you hate your family, worked as a waitress and had one friend. You know I treat you better than anyone else ever has.” Your eyes dart to the floor, shame swelling inside of you.

Wanda makes me happy, why did I ruin it all?

“But if you’re going to talk to me like that after I’ve taken such good care of you, I guess there’s no point in being nice.” Your eyes fly up at her again, hoping to see some sort of playfulness in her expression. No matter how hard you searched there wasn’t a hint of that gentle gaze she always had for you.

“Get on your knees, Y/N.”

“What-“

“On your fucking. Knees.”

You let out a shaky breath before slowly sinking down to your knees. Your eyes stay stuck to your fidgeting fingers, anxiously waiting for her next orders. “You’re so pretty, it’s a shame you act like such a spoiled little brat.” She unbuttons her jeans and tugs down at the zip, pulling out a large red strap she hid inside of the denim.

“Open.” You hesitate before taking it into your hand, eyes looking up at her nervously before sticking your tongue out and teasing it. You take the tip into your mouth, bobbing your head and hollowing your cheeks around it, eyes begging for some type of approval. Her mouth opens slightly, quiet pants escaping her as she watches the end of the strap disappear into your mouth repeatedly.

She takes her bottom lip between her teeth, impatiently pushing her hips forward and forcing the rest of the length into your mouth. “You can’t act all tough with a dick in your mouth, can you?” She sneers. You feel her touch the back of your throat, the faux cock weighing heavy on your tongue as you gagged around it. You claw at her hips and pull at her sweater, but she doesn’t budge.

“Breathe out of your nose, baby.” You do as you’re told, breathing in through your nose while drool dripped down your chin. She picks up your loose hair with her hand and gathers it behind your head, using it as leverage to move your head however she pleases.

“I want you to touch yourself, touch yourself for me please…” She whimpered. Her hips start to move, pumping the toy into your mouth at a merciful pace. Your spit falls from your lips to the carpet underneath you as you slowly remove one of your hands from her to push into your shorts, not wasting a second before thrusting two fingers into yourself.

You moan around the strap while she forces your head back and forth by your hair and snaps her hips harder, breath hitching at the sight of you grinding your hips against your own hand.

She rams into your mouth, hot, breathless praises falling from her lips and raining down onto you. The material of the toy rubs perfectly against her clit, both of you impatiently chasing your highs with increasingly fast and sloppy movements. You feel your walls clench and as you curl your fingers, you notice her thighs start to shake.

“Fuck! Cum with me… let go, sweet girl.”

Her string of moans flow smoothly throughout her silent cabin as she bucked her hips up and further into your mouth. Your juices spill into your hand, your bodies pulsing and sweaty. She squeezes her eyes shut as hot-white pleasure surges through her, and you do the exact same, clenching your thighs together as your eyelids flutter.

She pulls out and you take a deep breath in, your chest heaving and head spinning because of the lack of oxygen. She watches you withdraw your hand from your shorts and your cheeks fade to a hot pink seeing your fingers coated in the sticky cum.

She takes your clean hand and guides you to lay on the couch. You melt into the soft sofa, legs twitching and your eyes shut. You weakly mumble protests when you feel her climb on top of you and immediately starts tugging at your shorts, pulling them down your legs and throwing them to the side. She moves her hand and massages your pussy, eagerly listening to all of your icky sounds. You squirm and try jerking away from her, but her hand pins your hips back down to the couch, forcing you to endure the intensity of her touch.

“Wands, I’m tired..” She smiles, your voice low and husked from your sore throat.

“Don’t you hear that, baby? You’re so wet for me, even when I’m mean to you.” She shushes your begging while using her hand to move your sticky panties out of the way. She lines herself up to your hole, slowly pushing inside and doesn’t wait before picking up her speed.

“You’re so tight..” You sob, feeling smothered and hot from her hands groping at you, her body like a chunk of burning coal hovering above you. She wipes some of your cum from your fingers with her own, then moving them towards your mouth and sliding them in. She exhales shakily and her hips stutter when you swirl your tongue around her fingertips, opening your eyes the slightest bit so you can catch her reaction.

“God, you’re so good like that…” She slams into you harder, adoring the whines that would muffle because of your stuffed mouth. She feels your walls clench around the strap again and her lips stretch into a smug smirk.

“Aww gotta cum already? You wanna make a mess all over my strap, baby? Yeah?” Her voice hitches higher, patronising you in a way she knew you loved.

She takes it all in. Your tits bouncing underneath your shirt from her thrusts and your hardened nipples peeking through. Your flushed cheeks. The sweat glistening off of your forehead and your inner brows perked upwards. You could only moan an answer to her question, legs writhing and eyes glazed over as you stare at her in your euphoric haze.

Then it hits you, the feeling that you’d describe as tasting a slice of heaven and hell at the same time. Your back arches and your muscles tighten. You gasp and pathetically attempt to kick at her when she starts to toy with your sensitive clit, but cease your actions when she shoves her fingers further into your throat as a silent warning.

The last thing you remember before slowly drifting off into your long awaited slumber, is Wanda’s hands running down your sides, the top of her head and your stomach flexing as she kissed her way down your stomach.

⫘⫘⫘ ⫘⫘⫘ ⫘⫘⫘ ⫘⫘⫘ ⫘⫘⫘

taglist: @wandasfavv @sokovianbaby @hopelesslygaysstuff @ghxst-guts @maximoffsgirl @mrsmothermaximoff @themilfsland @slutm3out @immclovinmilfs @kimiisims-blog @halsnaksns

[livingdeadgirlflorette]

SO HIGH ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ carl grimes x reader

summary : getting caught smoking at your age isn't a good thing, but maybe getting caught smoking by the new guy's son isn't so bad at all, especially since he looked so cute.

tags / rundown : slight angst at the start, almost kissing, underage smoking, shotgunning, set in alexandria, carl is easily flustered, reader's parent's are pronounced dead (womp womp)

word count : 2.8k

a/n : this fic was inspired by me listening to so high by doja lols. since my midterms ended, i've decided to write this with my free time. hope it was worth it (∩_∩;) also i'll be writing a part 2 to "late night kisses", just dk where to start ( ´△｀) lmk if you want to be tagged in it!

dividers by @cafekitsune ꩜ .ᐟ

PART 2: YOUR FACE ⟡₊⋆∘

Alexandria seemed like such a pleasant escape from the shithole of the world we're living in today. Living almost two years by yourself from. . . unfortunate circumstances between your parents and an unexpected herd of walkers that had invaded your base camp. With a heavy heart and an even emptier stomach, that had left you scrounging for anything to survive. Food, water, a place to sleep in— it felt like you were just barely living day by day.

With all hope lost and no destination ahead, you just kept walking— no goal or end in mind, just walk until you found a place that could help you regain the empty feeling in you. To your surprise, a place like that still existed— a sanctuary called Alexandria. The first time you ever entered the gates, you felt like a deer in headlights. It all looked different from the outside world, giving you a sense of hope, a small beacon of hope that it would get better.

But even with all the good things that come with it, it still felt like you were so out of place. The pristine, large houses and the children laughing, acting as if nothing had ever even happened. Unrightfully, it irked you. They didn't know what it was like living day by day, not knowing if the last place you'd stay and shut your eyes for shelter in would be your last. They didn't know what it was like to starve, famished to the point you'd eat raw animal just so you could have something in your stomach. They didn't know what it was like to lose people by shooting them using their own gun. They didn't know.

All the feelings of jealousy, envy, and sadness spiraling in you, was overwhelming you to the point of just crying until you had no tears left. But you would never let them know that. It would be a stupid move to show weakness, especially in the state of the world. So you sneak out.

Sneaking out of Alexandria was a therapeutic event. Every time you do this it relaxes you, knowing what would come after would be the cherry on top to help you wind down and let your feelings fizzle out.

With you far enough from Alexandria where you knew no supply runners or recruiters would catch you, you walked through the forest, trying to find a place that's quiet. Seemingly in a matter of minutes, you find a small clearing. Peaceful and from your scoping of the forest, no walkers.

You sit down next to a tree and put your bags down, then finally sitting down, leaning on the large vegetation. Pulling out a pack of cigarettes, you fiddle around your jacket pockets and suddenly stop when you hear a voice call out to you, seemingly unimpressed.

"You know that kills you, right?" You turn around to put a body to the disembodied voice, and you see it's the boy from that one group that Aaron had recruited. You weren't that tuned in to the whole story, but you saw enough to know that they were like you, different, in the sense that you'd been out there, living through the apocalypse.

From overhearing Ron and Mikey talk about if they should him to play videogames, you knew the boy's name was Carl. He was cute, interesting, boyish in a way that he still had that youthful face, yet he was mature to have so much control over his emotions and body language and the way he carried himself.

If it were someone different, you'd just ignore the person and tell them to leave you alone. But you had the idea Carl wouldn't be such an annoyance to you, so you decide to entertain yourself by speaking with him.

"That's kind of the point." Finally, you find you lighter in your back pocket and proceed to tap on the cigarette box, pulling one out and putting it between your lips.

You didn't what to continue talking right now, wanting to just focus on matter at hand. You were thinking how to tell him but you were pleasantly surprised to see that he'd gotten the message, and just walked next to the spot on your tree, and sat down next to you.

Raising an eyebrow at him, you question his motive. Why would he even talk to you? more so why would he try to sit next to you? he has nothing to gain from this. . .

Continuing your actions, you flick open the lighter and the fire sparks burst out, creating a small flame. It fills you with relaxation. You lean in, just close enough to light your cigarette and when you finally inhale the comforting tobacco— you sigh out the smoke, lazily blinking. Your eyes dart up to the sky, watching the smoke from your mouth go up and away.

You look back to Carl, realizing you barely noticed he'd comfortably situated himself— with his signature sheriff's hat that he donned on the grass next to him and a comic book open in his hands.

You guess he wouldn't really be a nuisance, he would just be next to you while you let out your puffs of tobacco. So you scoot a little closer to him. What you didn't notice was how he saw you moving closer, unable to hide a ghost of a smile before it disappeared completely.

The sky was turning into an entrancing shade of cool colors. It seemed like time passes faster when you're smoking, only focused on changing the cigarette when it's on its last puff, and breathing in and slowly out to watch the result of your sighs for it to go up into presumably the clouds. You wish you could stay here forever. Carl was quietly reading the second comic book he'd brought, not having any plan to talk to you and your relaxed state. The boy's company was actually, comforting in the sense that you had someone with you.

But you had noticed he kept glancing at you and more so, your lips. You know the reason. He's obviously curious. From your knowledge, teenage boys are typically rebellious, so you figured he'd want to try a small puff.

The silence that had been enveloping the majority of your time together was broken by you.

"You want to try it?" His eyes jolt up from the scene in the comic he's reading, sincerely surprised you'd ask.

"I- uh- yeah i'd like to uhm— I wanna try it." He tries to find the right words, but seemingly they all just turn into mush when he sees you.

Your eyes are lidded, your body languid— presumably from all the tobacco you'd been smoking, and your lips are plump, slightly open. With that look, it's enough to send blood rushing to his cheeks, his eyes darting blinking rapidly and looking slightly down to hide his blossoming blush.

Even in your smoke-induced haze, you still notice this. Seeing him act all bashful and shy in front of you, it makes you feel giddy inside. You let out an airy chuckle and you hand him the cigarette.

"Knock yourself out." You tell him. With a nervous gaze, he musters up his courage and looks at you. Hesitantly taking the cigarette in your hands. But you undoubtedly notice his hands brush against yours as he took the lit stick of tobacco.

Carl then calculatively puts the cigarette in his mouth, inhaling before letting out a dry heaving cough. You giggle at him, you know it's a common mistake but he just looks so cute trying to do it properly.

"How do you even do it without coughing—" His words were cut off by another cough he let out, he seemed like he was having a hard time so you gently put your hand on his back, lightly patting it to help him cough.

"It's okay, I kept coughing a fit the first time I did it." You assured him, wondering how you could help him get through it, until you finally clicked, realizing what you should do to have him experience it properly.

"Do you want me to help you?" Your voice is gentle and calm so you don't startle him. He looks at you, his coughing had seemed to cease. His posture went straight, eyebrows furrowed. What could you possibly to do help him smoke without him wheezing?

Carl silently gives you an okay, slightly nodding as he does. "Don't freak out, okay?" He's curious, what would you do to help him? But then he sees your actions, you take the cigarette in between his calloused fingers and put it back into your mouth, taking in a small intake.

He's uncertain on what you're about to do, questions going in and out of his head. But you silence those answers by taking the cigarette out of your mouth, then grabbing his chin with your free hand to have his face an inch apart from yours.

His mouth is open in awe and disbelief. He can feel his heart beating out of his chest when you take you open your mouth, slowly blowing the smoke into his mouth. He quickly understands what you're doing, slowly breathing in the puff of smoke with his mouth.

With the last blow of your lips sending the smoke, You make eye contact with him. Your eyes were all this time trained on his lips, focusing so he wouldn't move. His breath hitches when he finally has all of the smoke you had in your mouth.

It's overwhelming for Carl, really— knowing all the puffs of tobacco he had in his mouth were in yours, and how close you still are to his face, it makes him want to shoot his heart out into the darkening sky. Realizing he's been looking too long at your face and not releasing the smoke, he lets it out slowly, watching your every move.

You look at him, letting a small smirk grace your face as you lean back. He doesn't know why he has such a dissatisfied feeling when you pull back though, It's so perplexing to him.

"We should get back to the gates, I think your father would be worried that his son's been missing." You put the cigarette out, standing up and patting your jeans off, shooing the dirt off your clothing. You look back to Carl, the emotion on his face evidently stupefied.

"Yeah— my dad's probably looking for me by now so," He scrambles also to fix himself up, turning slightly away from you. He tries to find more words, but it leaves him with only a few.

"We should go." He finally says. He wanted to save himself from the embarrassment he'd feel from you seeing his blush.

Carl thought what he was doing was ridiculous though; it was getting dark, you wouldn't be able to see color on his face unless you were close and squinted hard enough. But he does so anyway.

The rest of the walk back to Alexandria you're standing side by side, walking with him. You fail to ignore that tingly and rushed feeling whenever his hands accidentally brush yours, making your cheeks flush. You look at him, curious if he also felt the way feeling you were experiencing.

Carl felt quite befuddled, he was so perplexed at the thought of you. There was a swirling feeling in his heart. He wondered if what he was feeling was just from the nicotine in those cigarettes or if it was because of you, but then his question gets answered when he looks at you.

With the eye contact you guys had, you smile bashfully and look straight back at the path. He made you smile, and that was enough for him to know he was interested. He wanted to know more about you, and what it would feel like to have your face close to him again. Hopefully next time it would be to feel your lips on his, and not just the smoke.

I'm not sure if I like this, but it fueled my imagination of smoking with Carl so I don't really mind (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) .ᐟ.ᐟ

[i-want-men-i-cant-have]

Yan!Slasher headcanons

[part.2]

Yan!Slasher who’s your high school’s resident book nerd 

Yan!Slasher who sees you in the library and doesn't think he’s able to breathe

Yan!Slasher who thinks he's about to have a heart attack when he realizes you're in the same math class. How has he never seen you before? He didn't think his vision was this bad.

Yan!Slasher who starts accidentally overhearing your conversations with your classmates.

Yan!Slasher who once heard that you like athletic guys, decides he needs a complete makeover.

Yan!Slasher who begins working out and makes sure that by the time junior year rolls around, nobody from freshman year recognizes him.

Yan!Slasher who has completely changed with a more toned body, a taller and broader frame, and even a new haircut by that one celebrity you mentioned was hot. Don’t you love him he’s so thoughtful remembering what you said in the fourth month and second week of high school sophomore year in math second period?

Yan!Slasher who never gets flustered when a girl confesses to him, but whenever you pass by, his knees go weak. You just walked by him! It's the third time this week! You must really want him, and it's definitely not because he stalked you and found your schedule to see you every chance he got!

Yan!Slasher who nearly fainted when you showed up to one of his games. You're here? That's great! Now you can witness how amazing and handsome he's become, all for you.

Yan!Slasher who builds up enough courage to try and talk to you after his game, even though he's covered in sweat. But is he stinky? Do his armpits smell? He needs to make sure he doesn't smell like an ogre's morning breath and like a fairy's farts!

Yan!Slasher who almost considers asking you to a school dance but backs out when his friend suggests another girl. She might be curvy, but she's not you. Nobody is you.

Yan!Slasher who could only watch you dance, while his date mindlessly grinded on his thigh from the dance floor.

Yan!Slasher who accidentally ran into the girls' bathroom, preoccupied with the thought that he was about to die after his date got period blood all over his uncle's suit.

Yan!Slasher who almost screamed when he saw you washing your hands in the men's bathroom but instead stood stiffly.

Yan!Slasher who started to apologize when you corrected him for being in the bathroom. He swears he's not a pervert; he was in a rush to get here on time and only has one contact in!

Yan!Slasher who let out a forced laugh and a 'thank you' when you apologized for not being able to help get the blood out of his pants after crouching down for him.

Yan!Slasher who just now noticed the little details on your face and how the buzzing bathroom illuminated your features. How are you so beautiful? Why do you always make him feel like his heart is about to pop out of his chest when he's this close to you?

Yan!Slasher who decides to take his date for some fast food after the dance. He might as well thank her for being the reason he got to be that close to you.

Yan!Slasher snaps when his date asks why they're at the local Whataburger and not a fancy restaurant.

Yan!Slasher who asks his date if she can get the pack of condoms out from the trunk while he grabs the shotgun from the glove department.

Yan!Slasher who slams the Maserati Biturbos trunk on her body letting her stumble onto the ground so he could have a clean shot of her head.

Yan!Slasher who almost felt bad when he got a clean shot in between her eyebrows. Sure she was his first-ever date but she also got in the way of you and him and his future family of seven kids so of course she needed to die! 

Yan!Slasher who you don't need to worry about. he’s nice enough to bury her in a random ditch somewhere, with a Whataburger burger and Coke. How could you not love how fatherly and caring he is?

Yan!Slasher who overhears the colleges you applied to in senior year. Really? Those? They're so easy to get into. You could do much better than that, honestly.

Yan!Slasher who is convinced that your friends are holding you back. Do you really need them? They're taking time away from your studies. Without them, you could have been accepted into every Ivy League by now.

Yan!Slasher who decides to let your friends live for your sake. He's seen how emotional you can be, and he's worried that you might spiral and let your grades drop. After all, how can you both attend the same college if you're not able to get into one?

Yan!Slasher who of course, applies to those schools. Does he really need to attend Harvard Law? Nope, you silly billy! As long as he's providing for you, he'll go anywhere!

Yan!Slasher who sees you at prom with one of your best friends. Her? You've been making the worst decisions recently. Why go with her when he's right here? He's 6'3 for crying out loud. He's worked so hard just for you to go with your best friend to prom.

Yan!Slasher who needs to remind himself that you're just being manipulated. Your whole friend group is manipulating you. As if you wanted to go to prom with them when you're just so shy and have been madly in love with him this whole time! He's seen the way you glance his way; of course, you love him and are not looking at the board!

Yan!Slasher who makes sure that once the rigged prom queen ballots are counted, you and he would be king and queen together. What? You didn't put your name on the ballot? Are you just tired, of course you did.

Yan!Slasher who finally is able to truly smile for the first time as he wraps his hand around your waist and brings you closer to his body. They take a photo of you and him in your crowns, sashes, and a bouquet of roses that perfectly complement your dress and his suit, with a matching corsage that he totally didn't set up. Why would he ever do that? That's ridiculous!

Yan!Slasher who almost faints when you both get accepted into some random school he's never heard of. Yay, you'll be together forever! He can join a frat, and you can join a sorority. As you turn a corner at a party, he'll be there to catch you, and you'll recognize him as the handsome man you won prom queen with. A high school romance, how perfect!

Yan!Slasher who makes sure he gets at least one core class with you at his new school.

Yan!Slasher who stares at you in the only class you share. Why are you struggling so much? It's so easy for him! You should totally come up to him and ask for help. I mean, yeah, he’s a jock, but he also studies hard to be at the top of his class. He’s just amazing like that!

Yan!Slasher who cries and hugs his favorite plushie with a duct-taped photo of your face on it after seeing you talk to the professor after a class you had trouble with. Why would you ask that balding man instead of the hot boy you know from high school? 

Yan!Slasher who gets frustrated when he approaches the professor after you've left, but the professor says he doesn't have enough time. Does the professor have a crush on you or something?

Yan!Slasher who makes sure that he follows the professor home and slashes tires so he’s busy getting his expensive car towed while he’s memorizing the layout of his house.

Yan!Slasher who shows up to his house the next night and takes a knife from his kitchen so you can only smell whatever’s in the trash can.

Yan!Slasher who almost spills everything when you ask if he remembers you and if he wants to help you. Aw, you can’t ask for him to pay you because of student debt and loans? Don’t worry; why would he want your money when you’ll share a bank account once you both graduate, with him being valedictorian?

Yan!Slasher who creates a whole schedule for you because you’re so stressed and need to find time for his help. You really do care about him if you still ask for help when you have no time for it!

Yan!Slasher who now sits with you in that one class you share, leaning down to whisper answers or explanations in your ear. He even makes sure to freshen up, so you know he's not just another typical jock like the rest of his teammates.

Yan!Slasher who tries to build up the courage to subtly make physical contact, perhaps gently nudging your foot under the table or offering to lend a hand when you need to erase something. He wants to make this as romantic and casual as possible!

Yan!Slasher who after a month, sputters and blushes when one of his teammates asks if you're dating out of the blue. What-? No-? He’s just a kind friend helping with your homework? Please, go on about how you look at him! What? Who said that? Not him.

Yan!Slasher who has a frat bro who decides they need a party, and you need to be one of the first to be invited. Everyone just can’t bear how lovesick he is, always talking about you and how you glance at him in class with those pretty eyes of yours.

Yan!Slasher who sees you at the party and almost passes out. Why are you here? Is that a drink in your hand? What if someone poisoned you? You really need to be more cautious around strangers!

Yan!Slasher who makes sure to drop something into your drink when bumping into you. 

Yan!Slasher who talks to you, leaning against a wall, making sure to properly show off all the muscles he's worked so hard for.

Yan!Slasher who catches you when you start to feel dizzy and picks you up in his arms, taking you to his room.

Yan!Slasher who throws the plushies and photos he has of you in his room into a box filled with half-chewed pencils and blurry photos of you walking to class.

Yan!Slasher who untucks his bed and places you on it before tucking you back in and gently brushing away anything on your face. Are you already asleep? You must really trust him!

Yan!Slasher who decides it’s okay to maybe take off a few of your clothes and take photos of you. He’s so smart crawling into bed with you and taking photos! Couple goals~ <3 !!

“Sh, sh, don’t scream. You fell asleep on a couch and I didn’t want anyone to puke on you. Let me take care of you, ok?”

[jinkiezzsstuff]

Alastor watching the princess and the frog by Disney ? It’s in lousiana in the 1920s so it would be perfect for him

absolutelyyyyyyy the princess and the frog is one of my fav disney movies from characters to soundtrack, so this one’s a bit longer. also kind of a part two but also not exactly

history ramble below

also i did some light research on new orleans history because if im gonna write alastor i should know. doggy i love me some history and this history is rich, depressing at times but also rich and meanful to know so i thought id share a little. from talking about the free the peoples movement, to the way women got their rights to their hair back that they didn’t have when enslaved only to have a law banning natural hair and hair wraps and so they decorated the wraps and used coloured fabrics effectively rendering the law useless, to the wealthiest black man of the 1870s for being a prospering business owner, the origins of how voodoo and other spiritual practices mingled perfectly with the pre established voodoo and how voodoo was predominantly black women who were highly respected, the first black man to be govoner in the united states in only 1871, a black woman named Rose Nicaud who opened the first coffee stand in 1800 and made enough to escape being ensalved. then there’s lighter topics like some of the jazz history and how it made various black stars like louie armstrong, and also how the language mingled to make the cajun french that’s sadly dying out, to the architecture that flourished through the varying clashes in culture between african, european, native and haitian peoples. if it’s not too upsetting to read i definitely suggest this page to have an insight on some of the quick history on new orleans, i enjoyed learning about the strength that many had during this time.

United teachers of new orleans < page i was reading

Warnings: jealous Al teehee, reader crushes on naveen and dr facilier (don’t mind me just projecting), cuddling, swearing, alastor doesn’t really know emotions good, fluffy banter, just some ushy gushy mushy tushy

Word count: 2k

The movie Bambi didn't even finish playing before the patrons started to filter out of the room heading to bed. First to go was Vaggie carrying a sleeping Charlie, Sir pentious promptly following along telling his fussy egg boys it was long past their bed time. Then it was Niftys turn to disappear, however she never said a goodnight only sped off leaving behind her vacant swishing rocking chair.

Then once Angel and Husk left, you had decided to just call it quits on Bambi, Alastor hadn't moved much or objected to you turning off the movie, only watching the projector as you scrolled through the app.

You stopped on the princess and the frog, grinning toward Alastor he sighed, getting a glimpse of your mischief from the corner of his eye. "Now what's this about darling?" Turning your body towards his fully facing him, you waited for his gaze to finally meet yours, and reluctantly it did. "Allow me to introduce you to one of, if not, thee best disney movies of all time; the princess and the frog," Alastor's finger rose as he took a breath to speak, but before he could say a word you interrupted him.

"Yes I know princess yuck, whatever Al. It takes place in New Orleans, its main focus is actually in the poorer area with the shotgun houses, and throughout the movie Tiana, the princess, travels through the bayou, oh! With Naveen one of the hottest princes, also it takes place in the twenties, oh!-" Before you could continue Alastor gently gripped your cheeks, your lips puckering involuntarily as he did so."What did you just?"

"Takes place in the nineteen twenties?" You asked, voice muffled from Alastors grip on your cheeks. "Before that dear." Your eyebrows raised looking at Alastor not trying to hide your confusion. "Naveen? One of the hottest princes?" Alastor hummed, booping your nose. "Yes dear, that."

"Yeah. duh dude he's one of the few princes that deserve the princess, he changes for Tiana, he's charismatic, funny, but nevermind that back to what i was saying. There's varying New Orleans culture littered through that might make you feel closer to home, all the music is jazz obviously." Opening your mouth readying to rant on about the Voodoo man that you adored, Alastor hushed you with his finger up to your lips.

"My sweet dear, I will watch this silly picture show so long as you stop rambling about it." Alastor wasn't truly done with hearing your rambling, he was enjoying hearing that you were such a fan of something that centred so close to home when it came to him however if he was going to watch it he rather not have it spoiled.

Giddily you clasped your hands together and hit play, your love for the film and excitement to see Alastors reaction may have made you slightly over enthusiastic just a bit. As the movie began you curled your feet up onto the couch, inching yourself closer to Alastor looking up to his face and back to the movie.

When Naveen got introduced on screen you accidentally gripped Alastors arm tightly shaking him. "My mannn~" You squealed happily, letting go of Alastor once you heard the unmistakable rattle come from him, a growl sounding out of his chest. You didn't pay much attention to him though, instead turning back to the projector and backing off Al. However Alastor wasn't too frustrated with the fact you touched him, but because you were being so ushy gushy over some fake man.

He was easily the same if not better than Naveen. Alastor was charismatic, charming, he could sing, play instruments, he didn't quite understand why you were so particularly interested in this Naveen. Hell, even Alastor had a similar outfit back when he was alive, he could've been Naveen when he was alive.

You didn’t notice Alastor having a mini tantrum in his own world, you were too engrossed in the movie. Suddenly you’ve gripped him again, pointing at the screen. "The shadow man, Al this is your kin!" You egged laughing maniacally at your own words.

Alastor’s face however brightened at the display of the voodoo man. "One of my fav songs." You whispered as Dr. Facilier began singing on screen. Cocking his head to the side Alastor looked down to you bouncing along to the song. "This fellow sounds similar to Husk." Alastor mentioned, watching intently at the shadows that crawled around Dr. Faciliers room, much like Alastors own shadows. "Yeah it really does sound like Husk. Strange, anyways, Dr. Voodoos hot too." Alastors static buzzed around the room and you had to hold back a giggle at the frustrated look on his face, despite the smile it was obvious he wasn't too happy.

"What's up Al, not liking the movie?" Static crackled around the two of you as you questioned him a little slyly as you could tell he wasn’t hating the movie. “No dear, it’s pleasant in comparison to some things i’ve grit myself through, however,” He paused watching you ogle at both the Dr and Naveen. “I can’t understand what’s so great about this Naveen you like. He’s a fool,” You scoffed at Alastors distaste for Naveen, you didn’t mean to make him feel frustrated at your adoration for the characters but it was endearing to see.

“What’s not to like about the man?” You state confidently but Alastor simply shrugged while humming indifferently. A beat of silence passed, the ending of the song playing out of the projector. “It’s just that,” Alastor started up again after a moment of silence, turning his body to face you hands folded in his lap politely. “You clearly have the odd reaction towards these gentlemen and I can't see why,” To give him credit he did look genuinely confused, and just as you were going to speak up he interrupted.

“And please do not say it’s because he is funny, charismatic, musically talented or sweet because I happen to hold all those same qualities!” He finished, hands thrown in the air like he said something especially spectacular. You had a soft smile present on your face watching him work through the sentence theatrically. “Well, Al you are, maybe i think the same about you?” Record scratch.

You cackled at his frozen state, patting his arm gently, cooing that you were only kidding, you turned back to the TV and the two of you decided to leave it at that.

Later on in the movie, when Tiana and Naveen are with the alligator going down the bayou singing about being human, you stared over at Alastor, your heart thumping at the sight of him. His arms were resting along the back of the couch, legs splayed out comfortably, posture sunken in, and his eyes lidded with a closed calm smile. His ear twitched and soon his eyes moved from the movie to you, quirking a questionable eyebrow at you.

Feeling slightly embarrassed for eyeing him up you tried to play it off by asking him a question. “Is there bayous in New Orleans, is that real?” You ask kinda dumbly, of course they were, you scolded yourself. Alastor didn’t seem to mind though he smiled widely, a chuckle reverberating out of him. “Why yes dear! Of course, I personally never lived close to the bayou, but it surrounds New Orleans, and I have been. It’s quite beautiful during a sunset but there’s tons of alligators.”

You leaned forward interested, but it seemed he’d stopped to refocus on the screen which you wouldn’t complain about. You not so discreetly leaned into his torso, arm still on the back of the sofa behind you, and thankfully he didn’t move when you leaned your body into him, instantly decompressing into his side.

They got to the scene where the gang is on the boat going through the bayou, the crocodile fitting in and playing jazz, when you turned to look up at Alastor seeing him already looking down at you. “What’s up?” You asked, watching as he scanned your face. “Well dear you’re just reminding me of home tonight, it would’ve been interesting to be able to show you where I lived, where I worked. Y’know when i did radio, most people didn’t know what I looked like so it came as quite a shock to some that I wasn’t what they imagined. Some were cruel, but my mother always taught me to be respectable if not respectful, so I managed to keep my grace.”

You giggle at his explanation watching him move his hand in all different directions, the radio host coming into play just at the mention of his job. “I’m flattered you would’ve wanted to show me your home n stuff, i wish it were possible.”

On the projector in front of you two, was the scene between Naveen and Tiana’s first date, where Naveen was going to propose. “They always get married so fast in these movies, you spend three days as a frog and suddenly it’s eternity!” You exclaimed humorously, Alastor scoffed an array of instrumental sounds electronically sounding out from him. “My dear it was common back in the day to get married quick, none of this lollygagging.”

You rolled your eyes blowing out air. “Would you get married to someone you knew for three days?” Alastor hummed, tapping his finger against his chin in exaggerated thought. “If it were you, perhaps, otherwise i’d attempt to lengthen it just a bit.” He reviled in the sight of you bashfully turning your head away, shy at his broad flirt. “You’d marry me, after only three days?” You questioned in disbelief, he hummed wrapping the arm he once had behind you, around you pulling you into him.

“Well I found you to be quite a treat the first day i met you, and decided i wanted to be around you for many days on. Is that not marriage worthy?” This confession shocked you slightly. You never expected him to say that he preemptively planned your blooming friendship nevermind that he equated that to being worth marriage. The movie played on in the background as you both watched each other’s faces.

“To me, dear,” Alastor started a smug smile stretching across his cheeks replacing the calm smile that stayed for so long. “It seems like you may unconsciously feel something towards me too.” Jaw dropping you stared at him confused. “What?” You scoff but Alastor only looked smugger.

“Come now, New Orleans centred movie? Jazz, cooking, even that dumbo man Naveen speaks french loves jazz music and dancing, oh and of course the ever so obvious voodoo, it’s almost like this movie is me, haha.” He laughed manically, eyes crossing as his body shook. It was quite the egotistical assumption on his part, but he wasn’t wrong.

You put it on for him but it seems for you too, you paid more attention to him half the movie, and you’ve been more interested in knowing real life facts about his home during his time then what story the movie was trying to tell. Maybe he was right, but even so what did him pointing it out accomplish? “Well that’s why i wanted to show you it, it’s got many aspects you’re involved with in it.”

You mentally gave yourself a pat on the back for such a good save, however Alastor was keen and knew you long enough to catch your lies. “Sure dear, sure.” Al gave you a condescending pat on the head and you speedily swatted at him. The movie played on you once more captivated by Alastor’s reactions more than the movie itself, you’ve already watched it enough to know.

Tucked under Alastor’s arm, warm and comfy, you barely caught the sound of Alastor huffing out chuckles, gazing up towards the projection you playfully hit him. “Don’t laugh at his death!” That only made Alastor properly laugh, dropping his head back, neck cracking grossly. “My dear it was a lightning bug in love with a star! He got stepped on that was hilarious!”

Sounds of prerecorded laughter sounded out with his natural laugh, you didn’t actually care that he found it funny, only pretended too as you gave him a disapproving glare. As the movie closed in you felt a weird gloom wash over you, it was nice being alone with him by his side while you two relaxed. You didn’t want it ending, but alas Tiana and Naveen kissed turning them human, with the reveal that with marrying Naveen, she became a princess effectively breaking the curse, and the movie started with the end song.

“Well dear I did enjoy that, the voodoo was pretty boringly unrealistic, but it’s for children. I did enjoy the mentioning of foods, very common dishes even I enjoy, like gumbo. But alas it was still a pathetic little movie about mortal love.” Standing to his feet when he finished speaking, Alastor dusted himself off and snapped his fingers making all around you revert to what it was before movie night.

“Do you not want to be in love?” You ask softly partly hoping he didn’t hear you as by the time you stood from your spot, you regret saying it. “Well I certainly haven’t looked. Why disappointed?” Alastor bent himself backwards to look at you since you stood behind him readying to exit. Looking down into his eyes you felt hazy, maybe a little drunk on desire as you gently caressed his cheek. “Maybe I am,”

“Darling.” Alastor said sternly as he cracked himself upward, he bent down facing you this time and before he could talk you once again interrupted. “Can’t blame me can you?” Alastor seemed momentarily taken aback, gazing around lazily trying to collect his thoughts. “My dear, I'm uncertain with emotions like this as well as expressing them, love is foolish, however… if you were to tell me ‘i love you’ i would say it back.”

It confused you, what Alastor said, you couldn’t tell if he was mocking you and telling you he was going to lie about his emotions to spare you, or if he was egging you on attempting to get you to tell him your true feelings. Regardless you swallowed down any worries for the future instead focusing only on the now, and looked deeply into the soft red glow of his eyes.

“I love you Al,” With a cheeky smile you watched him stutter, the visible shock was clear, and you wondered if he actually expected you to say that. Just as you began to worry you fucked up, he bent down to your height. “I love you too my dear,” And with that he gave you the chastised kiss on the lips, before standing to his full height materialising his microphone. “Got to go dear! Duty calls!” And with that he seemingly disappeared into the shadows, leaving you to waddle tiredly to your room. Little did you know that Alastor whisked himself away to have a minor panic attack in the safety of his radio tower, not believing himself and his broad actions, nor could he believe the pounding in his chest and flutter in his heart.

[n3tworksucks]

Hey babe! Could you do like a NSFW alphabet headcanon thing for Carl Gallagher?

Ily🤍🤍

HIII BBY OFCC ILYT🤍🤍 (UPDATED!!)

word count;1430

warnings; nsfw n stuff sooo..... do what you want with that💀(an- i updated it because it wasn't too accurate and it was finally starting to bother me so i hope i made it a little more accurate😘)

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

he'd probably already have like a towel and water or something so when yall are done he could just quickly clean up then probably cuddle, or smoke and talk or both.

B = Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

I'd say he likes his upper body(like idk how to explain lmao) so his torso and arms and stuff because like he could do a lot with his arms and stuff ;)

and for you, probably your boobs or thighs because he likes leaving hickeys on them and he love going down on you, so I could definitely see him growing some extra love for your thighs, and it doesn't even have to be sexual too, he just loves every part of you.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically)

loves cumming inside, like if you're on the pill or hes using a condom, but if not, I feel like his pull out game if pretty strong, so hed like to cum on your lower stomach or back. and for you, he'd love it if you came anywhere lol, like him just knowing he made you cum just makes it better.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

I feel like he'd wanna talk to his friends about his sex life not necessarily to brag. but also doesn't because he doesn't wanna risk any information getting out and you getting upset or something. but he'd probably tell a little to Ian if the subject came up somehow, but no details.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

oh god do I even have to answer💀? yes he is. I think we all know lol.. but mostly from like research from when he was younger, because he's not a virgin, but he definitely knows how and what to do in general, but the more you go at it, the more he learns your body and what it takes to pleasure you.

F = Favorite Position (This goes without saying.)

hes got a few for different places, but his mains are missionary but maybe with one ankle on his shoulder, or dogy, and if you have a favorite he'd most likely try it.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

I mean, not all the time. I'd say 50/50. like there's times where its not a need to be serious but thats mostly the vibe, like it was an important date night or something. then other times like if you're both high or a little out of it then I'm sure there's a few giggles and jokes.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

doesn't focus too much down there, but he'd probably trim when he feels like it or wants to look nice lmao.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…) 

yess, he loves the feeling of being close to you and to him it feels like it just builds the bond more, like even if its angry sex, he'd still kiss you lovingly and stuff like that.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

sometimes yeah, like you're not able to see each other for a while, he'd probably jack off a few times, but doesn’t wanna do it often because he wants to wait for when you get to be with each other again ;)

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

he'd probably be into tying or holding your hands together, maybe a blind fold here and there if you're feeling frisky, and he'd probably be into smoking a joint or something too, like shotgunning.

L = Location (Favorite places to do the do)

mostly the bedroom, but, if you both were horny enough, probably a public bathroom, either in a stall or he'd lock the bathroom door and fuck on the counter. or anywhere, he doesn't care.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

it doesn't take much, but he's better at controlling now, but what would get him going now is when you'd just physically love on him, like rub his thigh a little, kiss his neck, tell him you love him. if you do all those, he'd probably drag you away from everybody and go somewhere private. and idk why… but I can see this turning him on too, like when you're sweaty and stuff, I think if he thinks of another reason for you to be sweaty, that would probably get him going.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

definitely a no to anything that could hurt you and make you uncomfortable. no knifes, no major rough kinks and stuff, he'd hate to see you get hurt even a little with stuff like that, like wouldn't be too into harsh degradation, and doesn't wanna make you try unless its tears of pleasure.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

loooves going down on you all the time, like, he gets pleasure out of it too, he gets pussy drunk a lot of the time, but also loves a good blow. but he mainly gives first, knowing you give back eventually.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

if its just normal casual sex, probably at a slight faster speed just because. not rough, but if its special or you both have some time on your hands, he'd go slow and sensual

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

not his favorite, but sometimes you both just need a moment, or just need to be quick with it. he's definitely good at quickies though if you need to be fast.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

he doesn't mind experimenting with things youd wanna try, or something he saw on the internet or something. and he doesn't care about where, like a public bathroom or in a car. in a way he likes the feeling, but doesn’t necessarily wanna get caught.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

oh god, after military school he could probably go forever lmao, but obviouslyat some point there's rest. but I think he could go at least 3+. whether thats in the same time or same day, but i think after rounds, there'd be a break then he'd be back at it.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

now… I think at some point, you both would talk about it, like maybe he ask about it after he passed that one aisle at a cvs💀 but if you did end up using toys at some point, they'd mainly be for you, like a vibrator or something, but wouldn't wanna use them all the time, because he wants to be the only one that can make you feel good yknow?

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

he'd tease a little, mainly with his words, but even if he was unfair, he'd let you get back at him sometime to even it out.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

if he's on top, he groans more, maybe let's one or two moans out, but its mainly heavy breathing. but if you were on top, he'd moan more, and act more subby. especially if he's he's pussy drunk, he'd moan while eating you out.

W = Wild Card ( a random headcanon)

so kinda back to like how to get him going, I feel like he's sensitive to certain touches and words/tones with you. like only if you're trying to get him going, and he can tell the difference between you being horny and you being affectionate, so if you touche him like that, you know he's sighing, closing his eyes, and leaning his head back

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on under the belt)

I'd say.. about 6.5-7 inches. I'm not gonna go further💀

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

pretty high, but can control his thoughts a little more, and by that I mean from 70,000 times a day to probably more times a day lmao

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

he'd wait for you to fall asleep, and even when you're asleep, he'd still probably be awake not doing anything but laying with the love of his life.

[macfrog]

grilled cowboy like me chapter three

part iii of dbf!joel! parts i here and ii here. ask, dear readers, and you shall receive. i do just wanna also add a massive thank you to you guys for all the love on this series. every single like, reblog, reply, etc. means the world to me. i hope you enjoy this next chapter 💚 reader got joel quaking !!! 🥵

pairing: dbf!joel x fem!reader

summary: joel knows he shouldn't be looking at you the way he is, but you look so pretty on your knees; how can he say no?

warnings: 18+ minors dni!!! oral (m receiving), praise kink, jealous/protective joel, age gap (reader is 23, joel is 48), consumption of alcohol, cursing

word count: 4.6k

series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist

You know what he means. He’s in a lot more trouble than you are if you both get caught; he’s your dad’s buddy. He isn’t supposed to be fooling around with his best friend’s daughter. You think over what you’ve gotta be doing to him – all the glances when no one’s looking, the touching, practically fucking begging for him to make you cum earlier. It’s no wonder he’s trying so hard to stop himself every time, no surprise he’s doing all he can not to give in to you. And right then, you realize – That’s exactly what you want him to do.

You spend a few more minutes up in your room before you follow Joel out the door and downstairs. You’re a little flustered, okay? Your dad’s best friend just had you literally wrapped around his fingers, and now you both gotta head off to a friendly neighborhood barbecue you’re supposed to be hosting. All smiles. All, Anyone need a refill? All, No, I haven’t just totally been fooling around with Joel Miller.

The house is empty and voices feed in from the backyard. You push aside the shades and step out onto the bright patio, where a few of your neighbors are sitting. Joel stands between Hank and Rita’s chairs, and you amble over to his side.

You sense his body tensing as soon as you reach him, your shoulder brushing off of his deliberately.

“Hello, my girl,” Rita calls, taking one of your wrists in her frail hands. “I sure am glad to see you back on home turf.”

You smile a little awkwardly, placing a hand on top of hers. “It’s nice to see you, too. How’ve you been?”

“Still livin’, honey, still livin’.”

She lets go of you when Hank takes her up in conversation, and your attention turns back to Joel.

“Busy, huh? Lotta people came.”

“Mhm,” he grunts, taking a step away from you and folding his arms. You eyes skim across the new distance between you both, noting it.

“Joel, your Sarah,” Rita swivels to face him, “she’s home soon, right?”

Joel nods. “The seventeenth.”

Hank gives a nod. “It’ll be a fine summer havin’ both you girls back home.”

Joel shifts awkwardly, his eyes darting around the patio. He spots Bill across the pool, by your dad’s work shed, and excuses himself. You track him as he makes off, and feel your face reddening.

Your dad’s head and shoulders materialize through the sliding door to the kitchen and he calls on you, beckoning you in. You hesitantly wander over, a cloud of shame forming over your head that you hope he can’t see.

“Bill’s beer,” he adds a Coors to a tray filled with glasses and bottles, “Marcia’s iced tea, a Coke for Sam…Joel– Shoot, we ain’t got Joel anythin’. Reckon he’ll touch Coors?”

You flinch at the mention of his name, and instantly try to recover it. “I wouldn’t know, why would I know that?”

Your dad’s hands lift like you’ve aimed a shotgun at him. “Alright, cranky, jeez. Go back to bed, get out the right side this time. Here.”

He lifts the tray and slowly passes it over the island to you, the glass trembling.

“…you remember, now? Bill – beer, Marcia – iced tea, Sam–”

“– Coke, yeah, I got it. Go take a Xanax, dad, your hair’s fallin’ out.”

“And ask Joel what he’s after!” he calls as you slip out of the sliding door.

Marcia sits beside her daughter, Lisa, on the pool loungers. You bend your knees and lower the tray for her to reach her drink.

“Thank you, honey.” She grins gratefully as she lifts it off the shaking tray and you return her smile, then continue on.

Bill is stood at the other end of the garden with Joel, arms crossed, both listening to some story Arthur Kennedy’s telling about a mechanic he works with. Arthur Kennedy always kinda scared you, was always loud and drunk. Your dad and Joel used to deliberately come up with excuses to keep you and Sarah away from him at parties.

This time is no different. You approach the group of men from Joel’s right side, dipping behind his back to stand between him and Bill, safely separated from the raving storyteller.

“He says he’d just oiled it, I said, Benny, that engine’s drier ‘n a nun’s nasty!”

He erupts into a roar of laughter despite the silence of his companions, and you nudge the tray against Bill’s arm.

“Oh, darlin’,” he says, turning to you and giving you an affectionate smile as he lifts the beer. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

You smile back. Bill can be gruff, a bit of a loner, but he’s always had a soft spot for you.

“How you doin’?” he asks, taking a swig.

You nod. “Good. Back workin’ at Sal’s, so…living the dream.”

You can feel Arthur’s stare on you like the hot sun. You shift awkwardly from foot to foot, tray tucked under your elbow against your hip.

“I’ll bet,” Bill says. “He got you workin’ hard?”

“Not really. It’s a pretty quiet store. Uh, Dad wanted me to ask,” you turn to Joel, whose eyes are glued to the ground, “what you’re drinkin’?”

He shakes his head, palm hooked around the back of his neck. “I’ll get my own. Thanks.”

“Aw, c’mon Joelie,” Arthur taunts. You try to avoid looking him in the eye out of fear he’ll take you up on it, but he does it anyways. “Why don’t you just let this pretty little waitress of ours bring you a drink? Since she’s bein’ so sweet ‘n offerin’.”

Your eyes flit to Joel. His jaw is tense, his eyes dark as he stares down Arthur.

“You know what,” he says through his teeth, “I’ll take a Bud. C’mon, you’ll know where they are, right?”

“Wh– We didn’t get any–”

“Be in the fridge, I’ll bet.” He takes your arm and pulls you away from the duo, who resume conversation as you leave.

You’re hauled back into the kitchen so fast that you almost drop Sam’s soda.

“Joel, be careful!”

He lets go of your arm and watches Arthur from the kitchen window. “Scumbag,” he mutters.

“Do you suffer from short-term memory loss?” you ask, throwing the tray onto the counter. “Didn’t we have a whole argument in the store about me not gettin’ Bud?”

“Just had to get you away from him, talkin’ like that. Guy pisses me off,” Joel huffs.

“Who pisses you off?” your dad calls, appearing from the bathroom.

Joel shoots him a look. “Arthur Kennedy. What’s he doin’ here?”

“I couldn’t not invite him; I know he’s a dirtball. You stay away from him.” He points a finger at you.

“Very good,” Joel replies. “Great plan. Make it her problem to keep the pervert off her tail.”

“Pervert?” You scoff.

“You don’t hear him at Frank’s!” Joel rounds on you now, and you raise your eyebrows. “That waitress line wasn’t even half of it.”

Your dad chuckles, patting Joel’s shoulder as he passes. “I’ll keep an eye on it.” He wanders out to the patio.

Joel’s still full of rage. You watch him, not sure whether to move closer or let him calm down on his own.

“I think you’re probably overreacting a little. It was a creepy line, and I won’t be goin’ near him anyways, but it’s fine. I can dodge Arthur Kennedy.”

“Shouldn’t need to. Shouldn’t be put in that position.”

He doesn’t take his eyes off of the kitchen counter, palms pressed flat to the surface, shoulders hunched, breathing deep. He looks like a wild bear, like he could rip Arthur Kennedy limb from limb if only he’d just stroll through the sliding door.

You decide to give him some time to cool off.

“I gotta get this Coke to Sam. You good?”

“I’ll be fine,” he snaps, and you take that as your cue to dip.

When you reappear into the sunlight, a pair of hands clamp down on your shoulders, making you jump.

“Hey, stranger!”

“Sam!” you cry, clutching your chest. “You almost gave me a damn heart attack. Here, idiot.”

You hand him the soda, and he tilts it in your direction, a thank-you in the form of a toast.

“I’ve been meaning to drop by Frank’s since I got home, come pay you a visit.”

“I’ll get you a drink on the house when you do.” Sam smiles, blonde fringe gleaming in the sun.

“So, how’s it going?” you ask.

“It’s…going.” He laughs. “Was just talking to Hank about college courses. Figured I might apply. This bartending life is not for me.”

“Do it. Come be a graduate with me. I got a degree, forty grand of debt, and absolutely no prospects!”

Sam laughs. “Nah, you got a brain, you’re gonna work somethin’ out.”

You both take seats by the pool to catch up. Sam’s a nice guy; he was in your circle of friends at school, and, like Anna, always stayed in Austin while you and the rest up and left.

Your dad always thought he had a thing for you, being that he was male and you two were close, and your dad’s an old-fashioned man who doesn’t believe any good can come from two people of opposite genders being friends. But Sam’s a sweet guy, and his being here pushes Joel’s sudden change in behavior a little further back in your mind.

“I’m working later on, so I’m only staying for an hour or so. My mom says hi, by the way.”

“Hi right back. Is she doing okay?”

“Fine! She’s fine. As fine as she can be, I think. Y’know, my dad leaving wasn’t too great. She took it pretty hard. But we’re settled into the new place, she’s doing good. Do you…Did you scratch yourself, or somethin’?”

He points underneath your hair to the side of your neck and your fingers run across the skin, wincing a little over a particular spot under your jaw. A memory flashes before your eyes as the sensitive skin tingles and your eyes instantly lock on the culprit: emerging from the kitchen door, beer in hand, dark eyes scanning the garden for you.

When you lock eyes, he makes a passive expression and wanders off in the opposite direction.

“Uh– No, that’s weird. Well, I had a nap earlier. I might have scratched myself in my sleep, y’know?”

Sam narrows his eyes. He’s twenty-three, dumbass, he’s not an idiot.

You smile sweetly at him and scrape together some reason to excuse yourself, dashing off to the bathroom to examine Joel’s handiwork.

It’s only a little red, probably more noticeable in the sunlight, but still, you grab some concealer and dab it over the mark. Feeling exhausted from running around and pretty pissed off with Joel, you march back outside and throw yourself into a chair beside Hank.

“Your dad knows how to cook a burger,” he tells you, holding a napkin to his mouth. “Delicious.”

“I’ll grab one in a bit. Not really hungry.”

You spend a little time chatting with Hank and Rita, answering their questions about college, telling anecdotes about work, asking about Anna’s makeup business.

“That girl,” Hank shakes his head, “there ain’t no tellin’ her. I’m just her ol’ uptight dad.”

All the while you periodically glance up, across the pool to Joel, and each time, he’s staring right back.

When you get up to grab some food, his eyes follow you. When Sam pulls you in for a hug to say goodbye, he’s watching. When Arthur stumbles over to sit across from Hank, Joel’s figure appears like an apparition at the side of him. Across the table, an appropriate distance away, but keeping an eye on you.

It fills you with equal parts thrill and frustration.

You find yourself laughing extra hard at Bill’s comments, leaning your head on Marcia’s shoulder, leaping to your feet anytime Hank wants a refill, or Rita asks you to light her cigarette. All to get to Joel. All so he has to watch you be unbothered by him for the entire night.

The garden is darker, porch light attracting moths and flies, but a small group of your neighbors sits congregated under blankets on the patio still. You’re talking about New York with Lisa when you notice Joel lean in to your dad across the table.

“I’m gonna head, early start tomorrow,” he says, getting up from his seat.

“You remember your gas tank, Joel,” your dad tells him, nodding over to the grilling station.

“Hey.” You feel a nudge on your shoulder and look up to find his brown eyes looking down into yours. “Give me a hand, would ya? Loadin’ this into the truck.”

“You got it out just fine on your own.”

He calls you by name, and you know from his stern expression he’s serious.

You stand, shaking the blanket from your shoulders, and follow him over to the barbecue. He detaches the tank and picks it up. You wrap your fingers around the handle beside Joel’s, but when the two of you waddle out the back gate, you can feel he has most of the weight.

You reach his truck, shrouded in darkness from the dusk. He hands you the keys from his back pocket and you drop the tailgate, then Joel hoists the tank up by himself and wipes his hands on his jeans.

“What’d you even need me for?”

“Been weird today. Wanted to check you were alright.”

“Are you fucking serious?” You groan. “Are you talking to me or not?”

“Of course I’m talkin’ to ya.”

“Then stop being an asshole, okay? I’m bored of asshole Joel. I want my Joel back.”

He looks at you almost solemnly.

“Look, if you don’t wanna talk about what happened upstairs, we don’t have to, but–”

“’s not that I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Then what is it?”

The floodlight over the garage switches on and your back gate clicks open. Your dad ushers Rita out, coat draped over her shoulders.

“Just walkin’ Rita home,” your dad calls.

“See ya, hon!”

You wave. “Bye, Rita.”

When you turn back, Joel’s making his way toward the truck door.

“Oh, go fuck yourself,” you mutter under your breath, and silently storm back into the house.

You hear his truck pull away as you throw yourself down onto your bed. Fucking livid.

Alright, you agreed nothing happened. But then Joel went and started acting like something totally happened. If anyone had caught on to the way he was acting, they’d for sure know something was up.

The anger rolls around in your stomach; his avoiding you, the way he kicked off when Arthur made that comment, the way his eyes followed you around the garden afterward.

And worst of all, you fucking liked it. You liked him protecting you, didn’t you? You liked the way he couldn’t help himself, had to make sure you were out of reach of any danger. You liked peering over Sam’s shoulder to find his gaze frozen on you.

You sit up, hands either side of your hips on your mattress. You look down and notice what they’re resting on.

Joel’s flannel shirt.

You’re halfway out the door, shirt in your fist, before you even have time to breathe. You run into your dad in the driveway.

“Woah, woah, where we off to?”

“Joel forgot his shirt.”

“I’m sure he can do without it for a few days, kiddo.”

“I’ll just take it back to ‘im,” you call, hopping in your car before he has time to protest.

You’re at Joel’s in five minutes.

Knocking and waiting for him to answer might ruin the argumentative vibe you’re trying to set, so you fling his front door open and walk straight into his hallway.

The house sits in complete darkness, save for a small light flooding in from the room at the end of the hall. You wander up to it and find Joel sat at his kitchen table, staring down at some contract papers on the wood. Aside from the dull light over his head, the kitchen is dark, orange tinge on the walls from the streetlights outside.

He doesn’t flinch when your shoe scuffs his tile floor. Instead, he just flips the papers back over and sighs.

“Subtlety not in your nature, is it, kid?”

“You left this.” You throw the shirt onto the table.

His eyes scan over it. “Thought I told you to keep it.”

“Oh,” you sit down opposite him, “my mistake. I thought you meant keep it until you’d had your way with me. Thought once you’d dumped me I was to hand the flannel back.”

“Dumped you?” He raises his eyebrows, sitting back in his chair. “Hm.”

“Hm?”

“I wasn’t tryin’ to dump you. I didn’t mean for you to feel…dumped.”

“The most you talked to me all afternoon was to give me a grilling about Arthur Kennedy. All you did was stare at me, then ask me to help you carry a gas tank at the very end of the night.”

He scratches his beard, considering what you’re saying.

“I mean, I thought we agreed to act like it didn’t happen,” you continue, “I thought we were fine.”

“Fine? You think what we did was fine?”

You struggle to find words to reply. Sure, it was better than fine. And at the same time, it was a terrible idea.

“We…We were…We were just messing around.”

Joel almost laughs. “Messin’ around.”

“Yeah,” you protest. “I liked it, you looked like you liked it. What’s wrong with it?”

“I’ll tell you what’s wrong with it. If we do this, if we’re ‘messin’ around’…what makes me any different to…to Arthur Kennedy? Hm? Just another creep on the street, hangin’ around and flirtin’ with girls far too young for ‘im?”

“The difference is I actually want you to do it, Joel.”

His expression drops. He stands up, shoving the chair back, and wanders off toward the kitchen counter.

You twist around to watch him. “I want this. And I’m twenty-three fucking years old, I can decide for myself. Arthur is, like, sixty years old, anyway. And he ain’t even a good sixty – he’s all grey, wrinkly skin, greasy hair like he doesn’t know how to work his own shower–”

“Alright, kid, we’re digressin’ here.” Joel waves his hand.

You snap back to reality and shake your head to clear it of Arthur Kennedy’s leathery skin. “Sorry, sorry.”

“It’s just not a good idea.”

“What’s not?” You stand.

“This. Us. You ‘n me.”

“And did you decide this before or after you fucked around with me in my bedroom?”

Joel sighs, shaking his head and turning away. He places one hand on his hip, the other to the bridge of his nose.

“I mean…” You throw your arms up, finally at breaking point. “What are you doing to me?”

Your tone forces him to turn back. When your expression matches it, he approaches you, gently cupping your face in both hands.

“I’m tryin’ to rein this in a little, baby. I’m tryna be the responsible one here. You know how hard it is not to give in to this? To you?”

You know what he means. He’s in a lot more trouble than you are if you both get caught; he’s your dad’s buddy. He isn’t supposed to be fooling around with his best friend’s daughter.

You think over what you’ve gotta be doing to him – all the glances when no one’s looking, the touching, practically fucking begging for him to make you cum earlier. It’s no wonder he’s trying so hard to stop himself every time, no surprise he’s doing all he can not to give in to you. And right then, you realize –

That’s exactly what you want him to do.

Your head falls limp in his grasp. “Then, stop trying.”

Joel’s eyes trace over your face; down the bridge of your nose, across your lips, over to where your jaw meets his rough hands. He’s tossing the thought of it over in his head like a penny. Only there’s no right answer.

Heads, you call it off, and lose any chance of ever knowing what this is between you guys. Tails, you fall down the rabbit hole; secret, clandestine, forbidden rabbit hole, and risk losing…well, everything.

Is it worth that risk? Just to feel him on you again? To feel his lips across yours, hungry, demanding, his hips grinding into you, his hands all over you, the way he looks at you as you cum for him…

Suddenly, like the realization hits him at the exact same time as it does you, Joel’s eyes darken.

Yeah. It’s fucking worth it.

His grip becomes rough, shifting from your jaw to around your throat. He pulls you toward him, lips connecting, and your hands press against his chest.

His grasp drops, squeezing your hips, before one hand leaves to settle between your legs. He just can’t get enough, can he?

“Uh-uh,” you mumble against his mouth, “you had your taste earlier. It’s my turn.”

You push him back against the counter. He’s staring at you with nothing but lust behind his eyes. Without a word, you sink down, knees hitting the cold tile.

“Baby…” Joel hums when your hands find his belt buckle. You smirk at his voice; you’re too good to be true to him. Like he can’t believe what’s about to happen.

You undo his belt and pull it through the loops, letting it fall to the floor with a clink. Then your fingers undo his jeans, almost tearing them apart by the zipper with your eagerness to see him.

As you pull the denim over his hips, you feel his hand softly rest on the crown of your head. A quick glance up tells you he’s watching every single thing you’re doing, lapping it up like it’s the last thing he’ll ever see.

You can see the bulge through his boxers; it’s big. Bigger than you imagined, even with your hand stuffed down your panties.

You place a gentle kiss to his thigh and pull the waistband of his underwear down, and his cock springs free. You gasp a little at the size of it, feeling your mouth watering at the sight of precum on his tip.

Your hands wrap around it, clutching his girth. You pump him a few times in your hands and he tips his head back, mouth agape. His free hand grips the counter, steadying himself.

His tip oozes more precum and you wrap your lips around it, sucking gently. Joel groans, audibly. The most audible you’ve heard him yet. It drives you insane.

You push your lips down his shaft, his cock filling up your mouth to your throat before you even reach the bottom. You push down as far as your throat will allow before releasing him with a pop, saliva mixed with Joel all over your lips.

“Good girl,” he’s mumbling, eyes still screwed shut, hand still knotting in your hair.

You drag your tongue along the underside of his dick, closing your eyes. All you can think is Joel, all you can taste, smell, and breathe is him. Completely dumb for this man, cock stretching your mouth so good.

When you take him in down to your throat again, he begins moving his hips; fucking your mouth. You steady yourself, hands on his upper thighs, and let him, trying not to lower your hand to your cunt to relieve the ache quickly growing there.

The sounds he’s making are enough to make you cum by themselves. He’s panting, moaning, breathing your name, groaning whenever your cheeks hollow and you suck until he’s so close he pulls you off.

“Wanna take my time, baby. You’re doing so good.”

You pull him back into your mouth. He tastes like sweat and salt and Joel. He tastes perfect.

When he bumps the back of your throat and you gag a little, you notice Joel’s head snap down to check on you. His grip on your hair loosens, and you softly gaze back at him, eyes blown with lust, to let him know you’re okay.

You drag your lips off of his head, a string of saliva still linking your mouth to his reddened tip. You’re panting now, half-turned on, half-tired from accommodating the size of him between your jaw.

Your palms wrap around his length again, pumping and twisting slowly while your tongue flicks over his head. He grits his teeth, both hands now against the countertop, knuckles whitening the longer you go on.

When you let go of him and dip your head down to take his whole cock in your throat, he lets out a deep groan.

“Keep goin’, baby, keep doin’ that,” he’s groaning, your head bobbing up and down. “Don’t fuckin’ stop.”

His hand falls to the back of your head and he applies a little pressure, fucking into you again.

When you begin to feel him jerk, you lean back, hands helping him to his high as you hold his head to your bottom lip.

Joel’s hand never leaves your head as his cock twitches, filling your throat and coating your tongue in warm, salty cum. He’s calling your name, breath heaving and hips shuddering.

His length slides out of your mouth. When his orgasm subsides, he watches you lick your lips and swallow his load, before tucking his softening dick under his boxers and pulling his jeans back up.

You watch in a distant haze of ecstasy as Joel does his pants up himself and takes your chin in his hand.

Breathing heavy, you look up at him, eyes hooded. Waiting for permission to stand.

“C’mere,” he whispers, and your tired legs hoist you back up to height.

He envelops you in his arms, placing a kiss to your forehead and letting you lean into his chest.

You let your eyes fall closed as you breathe each other in.

“So good to me,” Joel mumbles against your forehead, and you lazily smile.

You could let him carry you up to his bed and fall asleep right then and there, you think. That is, until you hear your phone vibrating on the table.

“Fuck,” you groan, and Joel releases you from his grasp.

“Just makin’ sure you ain’t dead,” your dad chirps down the line.

“I’m still at Joel’s,” you reply, “just leavin’.”

“Don’t you be keepin’ him, you hear?”

You pretend not to, and get him off the phone as quickly as possible. When you turn back around, Joel’s stood with a smirk on his face.

“Go on. Don’t want to make him suspicious.”

You skip over and place a kiss to his lips, and he runs a hand through your hair.

“Like I said, we’re not doing anything wrong.”

“Just messing around,” he says.

----------

As you approach the front door, you pause for a second and compose yourself. Glance in the window to check your reflection, take a deep breath. The last thing you need right now is your dad noticing something’s different.

He’s sitting in the recliner watching baseball highlights when you stumble in. He doesn’t turn to look at you as you dive straight for the refrigerator to grab a bottle of water.

“Hey there. Joel get his precious shirt back?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, sure. Just couldn’t be bothered with it lying around my room.”

He hums absentmindedly. You stand by the kitchen island chugging the water, avoiding conversation with him and looking for an excuse to dismiss yourself to bed.

“Hey,” he says after a bit, “did you find the burgers too…salty?”

You choke on your drink. “The– Too– What?”

“The burgers. Not sure if I over-seasoned ‘em. Were they salty?”

“No. They were fine. They were fine.”

Dizzy with adrenaline, you feign sleepiness and bid him goodnight. When you reach your room and collapse onto your bed, your phone buzzes.

Your eyes scan over the text; your heart skips and you feel a flutter just south of your belly button.

Joel: You free Sunday?

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