#but its already halfway done and i left my wallet inside

[two-calicos-in-a-trenchcoat]

My dad was sleeping on the couch this morning so I forgot to grab granola bars for work cuz I was trying to be quiet 😔 im hungry

[kiridarling]

𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍.

eijirou kirishima | f!reader, DARK CONTENT, drugging, noncon, but also the reader isn't not into it bc like...i have my limits okay, talk of vomit for a sec (no actual vomit), degradation, bondage, size kink, hair pulling, ripping clothes, slut-calling once or twice. minors dni!

— 3k words

"'S this what you need, Sweetheart? Y'need me to use you to get off while you just lie there and take it?"

"See somethin' you like, Sweetheart?"

"U-Um," you flush a deeper red than the stranger's hair and pray he can't see it under neon red lights. Either way, you've been caught red-handed, and recoil. "Sorry."

The stranger's crimson eyes soften before relaxing into a kind smile, and he lifts a dismissive hand. "I was just messing with you! That's on me."

He lifts a hand to scratch the back of his head and the smile grows wider, displaying the rows of predatory sharp teeth that shouldn't look as gentle as they do. You relax in the seat to his right, immediately turning to the bartender to order a funny named a drink. The redhead raises an eyebrow, leaning his arm on the counter.

"A Stranger Danger?" He nearly deadpans.

"Club Special," you shrug. You've never been particularly great at holding your alcohol, but this drink provides just enough punch for a buzz, aka what you need to get through the night. The bartender slides over a tall, rose-dyed wine glass without another word.

"Eijirou Kirishima," the stranger says with his sharp teeth, offering a large hand to shake. He looks comical next to you, all hunched over the neon bar while you sit up straight for your head to reach his shoulder, and as you take the handshake, can't help but notice how his palm eats yours like it's nothing.

"Y/N," you smile. His hand lingers before it pulls away, and he tells the bartender he'll have what you're having.

"So," Eijirou starts once his order has been placed. "You come here often?" You snort at the cheesy line, and the way Eijirou smirks implies he knows just how cliché it is.

"Sometimes," you shrug vaguely. The club's fairly new, so it's not as if you can say you've been going here for years. You lift the drink to your lips, the sugar-crusted rim tickling the corners of your mouth. "You?"

He shrugs, "When I want to get out."

You nod at that and offer him your glass with a raised eyebrow. Eijirou shakes his head, lifting a glass of his own. Your nose scrunches.

"Beer?"

He takes a sip before answering, lips white from the foam before his tongue licks them over, "Stella Artois. Want some?"

Your eyes shift between your dainty glass and his not-so-dainty one before you snort, "I'll pass."

Eijirou shrugs, reclining back in his seat and beer in hand, "Suit yourself."

You pat your back pocket for your phone, but when you realize there's a loss of weight on one side, you pat your right buttcheek to realize you left your wallet in the car. Fuck.

"Uh, hey," you say, knocking the redhead on the shoulder. You figure he's trustworthy enough, and the bartender always keeps an eye out for you anyway. "I'll be right back—left my wallet in the car."

Eijirou nods at that as you push away from the counter practically shaking your head at how distracted you can be sometimes. Seriously, your wallet?

At least the bartender didn't ask for your ID. Yikes.

You slam the car door shut with a huff, wallet finally in hand as you trudge back to the bar. When you return, Eijirou's got the beer lifted to his lips and greets you with a small wave as you sit down.

"Long time no see."

You giggle while grabbing your glass by the neck. As the club starts to fill out, you begin to shrink into your shell—throwing the entire drink down the hatch fixes you right up, though.

"Oh wow okay, looks like we're just going for the whole thing, then," Eijirou chuckles as he takes a much more civilized sip of his. You smack your lips with a satisfied aah.

"Gotta get the buzz going somehow," you wink, before getting comfortable in your seat. Alcohol warms your veins already, prompting your body to start pulse in time with the bass of the music. Eijirou smiles, watching you.

"You like this song?" he asks softly, before adjusting so you're both sat the same way—elbows and backs against the counter, facing the club and all its chaos. You shrug.

"I guess. I've never heard it 'till now."

He tosses his head back onto his muscled shoulders in a chuckle, and you watch the entire act in slow motion. The glint of his teeth in the neon lights, how his chest balloons and quivers under the weight of a bellow. You find yourself staring much harder than you intend to, but he doesn't seem to notice, eyes locked on the dance floor.

"Touché, touché," he says upon recovery. The alcohol in your veins turns to syrup and time starts to blur more than you're used to it being, body so light and weightless you have to pat the chair to make sure you aren't floating. That usually doesn't happen.

"You okay?" Eijirou frowns when you falter. You pull a smile and nod.

"Mhm," you say, though silently panicking when you feel like you're falling out of your seat. You grip the countertop just in case. "Mhm, yeah."

He raises an eyebrow, "You sure?"

"Yeah," you nod, before clearing your throat. Your body flashes hot then cold, and you wonder if you shouldn't have taken that drink down like you did. "I'm um—I'm going to go to the bathroom, one sec."

You're unsure if Eijirou says something as you leave because you pour all your energy into stumbling across the obnoxiously loud club, filled with too much bass and pandemonium for your liking. You're suddenly overwhelmed by everything and your esophagus goes numb at the thought of vomiting, but you make it to the singles bathroom just in time to shut the door and control your goddamn stomach.

With a sigh, you rest your head against the cool sink. The incessant buzz of the overhead lights is much, much better.

You take a deep breath and flick on the sink. Ensuring it's as freezing as it can possibly go, you launch some into your face. You don't even consider ruining the amount of work that went into your outfit today, because ultimately you aren't sober enough to give a shit, blinking back at your reflection to find it fairly blurry. You nearly stumble and fall, but your vice grip on the counter keeps you alive.

"You okay?"

The second you step back into the noisy club, Eijirou's there—with his sweet sharp-toothed smile, he's posted next to the bathroom door and you find yourself grappling his jacket for stability.

"Whoa—Careful now," He chuckles at your sloppiness with a lifted eyebrow. You blink once, twice—the spots floating in your line of vision don't disappear. His hands snake around your waist to keep you from falling and eating shit, and you dig your forehead into his muscled chest.

"Gotta—I gotta go home."

"Okay," Eijirou soothes softly upon realizing how utterly shit-faced you are. "How'd you get here?"

"Walked," you groan and nearly cry, looking up at him with a pout. Eijirou coos.

"Well, no offense but I don't think you're good to walk on your own, Sweetheart."

His voice is heady with something you can't quite recognize, but it's comfortable, and you melt into his chest with a weak nod.

"Mhm."

"Can I help you home?" He offers with a kind smile. You nod, fists gripping his shirt in tufts.

"Yes please."

"Oop—careful."

"I am al—hic—always so fu—fucking careful," you slur. Your body has gone so numb that Eijirou gave up and resorted to carrying you bridal style the rest of the way instead. But he has to set you down so you can stuff your keys in the door, but you can't even do that right.

"Need me to do it?"

"No!" You puff your cheeks, trying twice more before you successfully get it in the keyhole. "'Mma strong independent woman who don' nee' no mahn."

Eijirou chuckles, and using his big shoulder, opens the door to chauffeur you inside. Neither of you get very far, maybe halfway to your room, before your legs give out and the only thing that saves you is the hand on your waist.

"Down this hall?" He asks, raising an eyebrow. You nod so profusely it gives you a temporary headache.

You blink and you're in your bedroom, your front hitting the sheets with a soft thump. Huh. Maybe he carried you the rest of the way. With a face full of pillows, you groan at the new and improved position as you feel the bed dip behind you, and Eijirou grab both of your wrists.

"You're so cute, you know that?"

Something soft and silk ties your fists behind your back. You recognize the material as the belt from your robe, tossed carelessly on your bed during the chaos that ensues every time you get ready for the club. It's not until you try to pull your hands apart that you realize they're tied tight.

"Pulling is only going to make it tighter," Eijirou says with an absentminded sigh, like he's done this before, and trepidation spikes in your chest once he raises your hipbone and slides a pillow underneath to angle them, the only way you could break free—especially with the new grip on your hips.

"Ei—" you try to squirm, legs kicking blindly into the space behind you, but once he seizes your thighs he's sitting on your calves to keep you in place. There's the undeniable sound of cloth ripping and your behind is suddenly met with cool air, prompting a shiver or two.

"Eijirou, what are yo—"

You're interrupted by a stinging slap to your ass and a growl. "Don't tell me I gotta gag your pretty mouth too, Sweetheart."

His voice is low and sharp with a threat, his grip tightening around your thighs.

"You're soaked already? Fuck...and I bet you taste so sweet too..." he bites back a groan in thought, sliding a finger down your slit.

He clicks his tongue but it's damn near mocking. You gasp as he fills you with two large fingers instead of one, body tensing as the alcohol-induced numbness fades in favor of amplified arousal. Eijirou chuckles at your reaction.

"Taking it so well already," he purrs, hand caressing the crest of your ass. In your defense, there isn't much you can do but take it. Ah-ah, Sweetheart—Speak up for me."

"O-Ow," you hiss when your head is wrenched. upwards via your hair to expose your broken moan. Eijirou's grip only tightens after you complain, and you can feel his hot breath ghost the base of your neck. His thumb finds your clit and doesn't move, it just sits there as heavy weight—and it's just as frustrating as it is teasing.

"Ei," you rasp into the pillow, voice hoarse and thick. "I nee—fuck, more—"

"More?" He chuckles derisively, shaking his head with a tut. "Two fingers and you want more? Fuckin' slut."

Each word is loaded with something pitifully mocking and if you were in any other position you would've curled a lip and spat back. But that's a little hard with your face in the pillow and Eijirou's weight above you, isn't it? You shake your head against his fist until he lets go in favor of crackling a solid hand against your ass.

"Oh, you like that, don't you Sweetheart?" He grunts and his fingers increase in speed, the lewd squelch bounces off the walls of the bedroom and echoes in your head in the most insulting way. "My fingers fill you up that good?"

"Y-Yeah, I—" you choke around drool that gathers in the corners of your mouth and shake under his palm. "Fuck me Ei, I nee—"

The quick spank cracked against your ass shakes you from your thought process. "Dirty fucking girl—you really so desperate to let a guy you just met fuck you like this? So goddamn easy."

But he's removing his fingers regardless, stuffing them between your swollen lips as he assumes the space behind you. You hear the quiet fumble of his belt and the run of his zipper, before you feel his hot cock pressing against your soaked entrance.

Eijirou pushes in with a groan, his free hand finding your hips to keep them in place. Your legs thrash as he fills you up with a pleasurable burn, and by the time he bottoms out, you're positive he's filling you up all the way to your lungs.

"Fucking hell," he heaves above you, and the fingers in your mouth disappear to grasp the sheets. You shake along with him, back straightening in a poor attempt to alleviate the burn—and he barely gives you a second to breathe before he's pulling out and slamming back in.

"Fuck!"

You jump each time the head of his cock rams against your cervix, feet scrambling in a poor attempt to escape. Eijirou growls and puts all of his weight in his hips to ensure you'll stay still, a big hand smushing your face into the sheets.

"Sing for me, Sweetheart—I wanna hear ya."

Your voice cracks as Eijirou speeds up, simply using you for his own pleasure—but maybe that's what excites you the most.

"Ei—"

"'S this what you need, Sweetheart?" He spits, and you can feel the sweat dripping from his shoulders onto your exposed back. "Y'need me to use you to get off while you just lie there and take it?"

You whimper uselessly and nod, but Eijirou growls, yanking your head up for a proper answer.

"I said, don't you?"

"Fuck I—" he hikes your hips even higher for a better angle and gets one, the head of his cock forcing a scream out of your lungs as you yelp, "I do!"

"'Course you do," he chuckles, and drops your head back onto the pillow, "'Course you fuckin' do—"

"Ei-Eiji—" you gasp like you've been underwater forever. "I can't, I nee—"

"Dumb little baby can't even speak," he coos, before his hand finds the sides of your neck and squeezes. "What? Whadd'ya need, Sweetheart?"

And honestly, you're not completely sure what you need, you just know you're chasing after *something—*and Eijirou's got you sprinting after it while you melt into the sheets into a hot, gooey mess. You think the split ends of EIjirou's hair ticking the back of your arms, but you aren't sure. The only thing you are sure of is the burn between your legs and the feeling of being very, very close.

"'Mma cum!" You squeal, the vein in the side of your neck bulging. Eijirou grunts and slides a calloused hand under your stomach to play with your clit, hissing as you squeeze around him.

"Awe, the little slut's gonna cream all over my cock?" He coos, and you're positive his hips speed up just a bit. The grip on your neck slides to the hands tied behind your back for leverage. "Yeah she fuckin' is—I can see your eyes rolling back already."

And he's right, because the weight of your orgasm knocks the wind out of your lungs and your lips round to form and 'o'. You couldn't say if you screamed or not, as the ringing in your ears peaks with your orgasm. The only reason you know Eijirou finishes is because his hips stutter to a stop while you lay face down in the pillow, heart thrumming against your ribcage.

"Hey, you okay?" Eijirou nearly scrambles to get your back on your chest. You know this type of thing gets him nervous, but he does it oh so well, and there isn't much you can do but smile at the ceiling lazily.

"You just railed me into the sheets and you're asking if I'm fine?" You snort at your boyfriend's frazzled appearance—and the afterglow doesn't help, his chili red hair sticking in every other direction except the one it's supposed to.

"Yeah," Eijirou doesn't even hesitate and then gives you a quick peck on the lips. His voice edges on a petulant whine as he says, "I was rough, Sweetheart."

"Because I asked you to be," you quirk an eyebrow and finally, the redhead stumbles to your joint bathroom butt naked. "And don't forget to wet the towel this time!

A little shuffling in the bathroom, and then:

"That was one time!"

"And my vag will never recover!" You holler back. Eijirou just snorts before the white noise of a running sink takes possession of the conversation, and you scoot to the section of your shared bed that isn't soiled with a sigh.

You roll onto your side and come face to face with a framed selfie of you and Eijirou on your first date. Next to that one is first anniversary, second anniversary, third...

Now you're edging on the fifth, comfortable enough where he's walking around with his soft dick out and you've given up in swatting at his hands every time they grab for your tits. You two are comfortable—this is comfortable.

Eyeing the bathroom door, you still hear running water. Sneakily, you reach for the drawer where Eijirou keeps the the ring he doesn't know you know he hides. But frankly, you're the only one who cleans this goddamn house, so it wasn't like you weren't going to find it. You open the red velvet box to blink down at a diamond ring, thumb caressing gem. It glimmers even when the lights are low, and you can't help but be jealous of it—which is silly. You know it'll be yours anyway. The ring is always smoother than you expect it to be, but that thought doesn't last long, because you quickly toss it back into Eijirou's drawer and assume a less suspicious position upon hearing the sink turn off.

"What?" he asks with a small grin as he walks in with a wet towel in hand. "You're giving me that weird look again."

You snort, rolling your eyes before adjusting so you face the ceiling again. Spreading your legs, you demand, "'S nothing. Now clean me up, big boy."

Eijirou huffs at that but he assumes the space between your legs with a light blush. You smile.

He'll do it. When he grows the balls.

[lightsovermonaco]

His Good Sweater: Chapter 10

Masterlist

Shoutout to my bestie @acollectionofficsandshit for all the drunk comments she made while betaing this one... Wish you guys could see them lol

Word Count: 4.8k

Recommended song: “Amnesia" by 5SOS

Pierre paces in his dinky trailer at the Circuit of the Americas and desperately tries to forget you exist. He had already taken down the pictures on the wall but the images were burned into his brain. He had shoved your shirt under his bed, having absolutely no idea how it had made its way halfway around the world to taunt him.

He was slowly unraveling like a spool of thread on a loom as you wove him irrevocably into the tapestry of your life.

The race in Austin started in less than two hours and you hadn't texted him. Not once in the handful of years he'd known you had you neglected to wish him luck before a race, even if it was 2 am your time or you had exams, you always took thirty seconds to warn him to be safe and finish well.

He was beginning to think you hated him for how he'd acted at the gala last weekend, jealous and possessive from afar. Talking to you would have been the better choice. But seeing you laugh and dance the night away had hurt too much. He’d slipped out early after Victoria assured him she could find a ride and sped home to fall apart.

He had only barely managed to piece himself together in time for the race.

Pierre checks his phone for the third time in as many minutes and swears under his breath. He didn't know why he expected it to ring and for your face to pop up at this point. Even if you called to tear into him, he'd still fall to his knees at the sound of your voice. He just wanted to hear you speak, didn't care what was said, only that he could latch onto your words and lose himself in them.

Hope sparks when his phone chimes but he nearly throws it across the trailer when he sees Charles' name.

Heard from her yet?

No. At this point I'm beginning to think I never will again.

Maybe she fell asleep early?

It's 5 pm in London. I'll bet you she's eating a bowl of takeout from the Chinese place down the street, not sleeping.

Its still possible. Don't dwell on it. This isn't the headspace you wanna be in before a race. Block it out. I don't wanna see my best friend wind up hurt today.

Pierre didn't reply, if only because Charles was right. Worrying would get him nowhere. After his shitty qualifying yesterday, he started thirteenth on the grid so he had his work cut out for him. Austin offered plenty of opportunity for overtakes; he could get the job done if his team made the right calls. 

And if he made it to the podium, you would have to text him.

The thin mattress groans when he sits to unlace his hastily tied race boots. He folds his legs to sit criss cross and places his palms on his knees. The familiar pose already has some of the tension leaving his shoulders as his eyes slide shut. He breathes in for ten seconds, reflecting on what ails him. He holds the breath for five seconds before releasing it slowly.

He repeats the process until he comes to terms with the fact that you won't be wishing him luck. That was your choice; there was nothing he could do about it and therefore no sense reading into it. He had done all he could to convince you to trust him. The ball was in your court; he had to be patient and wait for you to take a shot.

“Focus,” he murmurs to himself, forcing any erroneous thoughts from his head. “Walk through the track.”

The circuit at Austin was challenging, consisting of a mix of 20 sweeping corners and scattered hairpins. He was almost lucky in a way to be starting so far back on the grid because turn one was only a few hundred meters from pole and their tires would be slightly colder and less grippy upon arrival than his would be. The few extra seconds afforded to him by starting thirteenth could mean the opportunity to leap frog past his rivals in the first corner.

The counterclockwise circuit meant he would have to keep an eye on his front left tire too, as it would wear faster than the others. He'd change gears an average of 66 times per lap, higher than similar length tracks like Monaco. Pit stops cost an average of nineteen seconds, meaning he would need to build a significant gap to the driver chasing him in order to avoid the threat of any undercuts.

There were too many variables occupying space in his mind to afford you a sliver of it.

Some time later he decides that his four leaf clover tucked safely in the worn leather of his wallet will provide all the luck he needs and switches on his pre race playlist after popping in his ear buds.

"Sights on the podium," he murmurs to himself, hand on the doorknob. "Let's race."

The bass flows through him as his feet carry him to the Alpha Tauri garage on autopilot, through the back entrance and to his plain white driver room. The familiar beats are a numbing salve spread on his frayed nerves, his anticipation rising like a crimson wave in his veins. He leaves his clothes in a haphazard heap in the corner and changes into the white fireproofs hanging nearby, thoughts momentarily veering to you knocking on the door and stripping them right back off.

Shaking his head to clear his mind, he runs through his usual stretch sets until Pyry arrives to walk him through reflex exercises.

"How's your head?" Pyry asks, running him through more cool down stretches. "Do we need to take a minute and do some meditation?"

"Beat you to it," Pierre grunts out, pushing back against the hand on his head to work his neck. "I'm good."

"You sound better than you have all week, I'll give you that. Keep that focus, use it to propel yourself forward."

"Run me through the lineup again," Pierre requests, "I need something else to think about."

Because if he let his mind follow the path it wanted to, it would inevitably lead to you and undo the work he had done to avoid that. He needed to be empty of anything that wasn't racing, anything else was an unnecessary distraction that had the potential to end in disaster.

Pyry rattles off the grid in order of who Pierre needs to overtake, pausing between each name to give him time to recall their driving styles and potential chinks in their armor to exploit. He knew from tapes of previous years that Stroll often ran wide into turn one, giving Pierre the option to brake late and sweep up the inside. Vettel was half convinced the track was cursed, so his mind would work against him enough that Pierre could exploit it and get past at some point. He continued until he got to Hamilton and Max locking out the front row, where he would need a bit of luck to overtake.

"You got it?" Pyry asks, stepping back.

Pierre rolls his shoulders and nods. 

"Get shit done mate," Pyry says and bumps fists with his driver. He slips out to allow Pierre a moment to center himself before slipping into his race suit, leaving it half unzipped and tying it around his waist before following his trainer.

Pyry leads the way to where the matte navy and white car waits, mechanics swarming it like studious worker bees tending to their queen. No one talks to him save his engineer because words from anyone else threaten to break his carefully constructed race mentality. If they wanted him to bring home points, they knew to leave him alone once he was suited up.

His mind is blank of anything but statistics as he twists his ear buds in and pulls on his balaclava and helmet. As his vision narrows to the sliver of track he can see through his visor, so does his focus. With forty minutes to lights out, he's directed out onto the track. He rips the wheel to the right as he exits the garage, getting a decent powerslide for his efforts.

There was no doubt in his mind that he would land on the podium, if only to see the look on your face when he did.

**********

It took an unfathomable amount of restraint to keep yourself from calling Pierre to wish him luck.

You texted Max instead, wishing him a safe and comfortable podium a half hour before lights out. He hadn't responded, likely already in the garage with his trainer going through his pre race routine.

The pace Max had set the day before had awarded him pole position and the margin between him and Hamilton had been enough that you were confident in his ability to hold off the Mercedes for all fifty six laps.

If you were honest with yourself, you were disappointed that the Alpha Tauri you so desperately tried to ignore would be starting in thirteenth. You try not to think about it, instead queueing up SkySports and opening your laptop for pre race coverage. You avoid the interviews in favor of listening to the commentators analyze the grid.

"It should be an easy win for Max as long as he fends off Hamilton until the first round of pit stops. The undercut works well here, as Red Bull proved last year, and I'm sure they plan on doing the same thing this year."

You hum in agreement, gingerly sipping your steaming tea. You really ought to consider a career as a sportscaster at this point based on how often you came to the same conclusions they did.

"I think one of the biggest shakeups is Russell starting all the way up in eleventh after his amazing qualifying for Williams yesterday. Think he can hold onto that position?"

"He's got some fierce competition not far behind in the form of Alpha Tauri. Gasly starts thirteenth- surprisingly far back on the grid given the otherwise flawless performance he's shown this year. But it seems likely that he should be able to overtake-"

You flick the tv on mute, unable to stomach listening to them sing his praises. You numb your mind with social media until the Formula 1 theme plays on your laptop, alerting you that there's a few minutes until race start. Tire blankets are peeled off and the drivers weave their way through the formation lap with the exception of Kimi who takes his traditional straight line approach to warm up his supersoft tires. 

Most of the front runners are on ultrasofts, indicating a two stop strategy. It was Pirelli's recommended approach, and you were glad that Horner heeded their advice for once and let Max use the ultras in Q2. It would give Max the upper hand over Hamilton who starts on the yellow sidewall tire and thus slightly slower lap times.

Crofty and Brundle break down the notable turns as the cars line up on the grid, pointing out the sharp hairpin only a few hundred meters from pole position. If Max got away clean, he would be ahead of the cramped pack and have an even better edge over the silver arrows who would be forced to queue behind him.

The traditional "lights out and away we go" kicks off the grand prix, engines roaring into the first turn. Max does manage to get away clean and is awarded with an immediate advantage. Turn one proves tragic for the Alfa Romeo of Raikonnen and the Asthon Martin of Stroll who collide and cause Kimi to spin. They rejoin at the back of the pack, your eyes snagging on the navy and white of an Alpha Tauri as it streams past. 

Your heart spins in a similar fashion when the GAS driver tag leaps up two places in the timing table, suddenly in eleventh due to the incident. Your gaze snaps to the laptop humming on your legs before you remember its Max's driver cam you queued up. The Dutchman is silent as his engineer relays information about the incident and informs him of the widening gap between those chasing him. 

“Confirm received,” Gianpiero says calmly. No matter the situation or how heated Max got, he always kept his head. It was what made the duo such a good match and had likely kept Max from going off the rails on more than one occasion.

“Yeah,” Max says shortly, clearly pissed about how quickly Hamilton was approaching. “Let me know when I’ve got enough charge to get out of range.”

“Yep, will do. Just keep this pace and you’ll hold him at bay.”

Live coverage replays the incident between Stroll and Raikonnen from the view of onboard with Pierre. The instant the 10 on the halo appears in the center of your screen you suck in a breath. He yanks the wheel to avoid colliding with Ocon, who had to do the same to keep from hitting his teammate as they navigate through the carnage.

You chew on your lip and try to refocus on the battle between the front runners. Not much is happening in the midfield for the next thirty or so laps and Max just barely manages to build a solid enough gap between himself and Hamilton to dive into the pits comfortably without losing places. 

Your phone rings and you answer it without checking who it was as the only person you wouldn't answer was currently occupied.

"Hello?"

"Why the fuck didn't they pit Daniel?!"

You grin, noting the blistering beginning on his front left tire as SkySports switches to his onboard camera. "Because he's about to pass Charles," you tell Dan's girlfriend. She didn't call you often during races. It was likely that she knew you were nearing your wits end and this was her way of offering support.

"He won't be able to with those tires- oh." She breaks off when Daniel passes a DRS detection zone and his rear wing opens, allowing him to pass the Monegasque with ease. 

"Told you," you say with a touch of reprimand. "You're always too nervous about those things. Daniel knows how to drive, just trust him to get the job done and he'll bring home another trophy for your apartment."

"I don't live here," she points out and you roll your eyes. She had lived in London as long as you had known her, but she was almost always at Daniel's apartment whether he was in town or not. Daniel digs in as the camera follows him for a lap, highlighting the widening gap between the McLaren and the Ferrari.

"You basically do. At this point, you're paying rent for a dusty one bedroom apartment on the east side that you set foot in maybe once a month." She scoffs but you push on, "a waste of sterling if you ask me, when you're at Daniel's every time I ask you to do anything."

"You act like I never- there goes Pierre!"

His name sparks dread in your gut as your attention flicks back to the screen in time to see him overtake Bottas on the inside of turn one. He'd managed to claw up to fifth with the move, somehow gaining places while you weren't looking.

"Good for him," you croak, trying your best to be genuinely happy for him. He was pushing the car to the limit and you'd be amazed if he didn't wind up on the podium along with Dan and Max. Charles and Hamilton were the only ones in his way, and something told you Charles wouldn’t put up much of a fight when his mate reached his gearbox. Hamilton would prove a challenge but he had been making tiny mistakes all day. Nothing significant, though enough to add up to him barely holding onto second while Daniel rode his gearbox.

"He's got ten laps to get past those two," she murmurs as if momentarily forgetting you were on the phone. 

"Can we talk about literally anything else please?" You whisper, half tempted to shut off the race completely. 

"Babe, you have to face the music at some point. Either you never want to see him again or you love him, which is it?"

She never failed to be anything but brutally honest. You appreciate it because everyone else let you brush off your problems, but she called you on your bullshit. She would needle you about it until you folded.

"I think it's better for both of us if I pretend we never met, don't you?"

"Easier for you, yes," she agrees. "But it'll kill Pierre. You don't think you could keep in touch with him, just as friends?"

"I don't know if I can handle that. I can barely look at him without wanting to bawl my eyes out."

She sighs, pausing to contemplate what to say. Voice soft, she continues, "Why don't you just take him back? Clearly it's ruining both of you. Are you really gonna let the press wreck the best you ever had? I know its hard but-"

"I'm not like you," you cut in. "I can't just ignore the articles and the comments and pretend there aren't people out there that hate me for being with him. They came to my house, disrupted my family. Hell, Ben can't even go to school without being mobbed by his classmates demanding answers. If my suffering is what allows my family to go about their lives then so be it."

"If that's what you wanna believe."

You sigh, tangling your fingers in the hem of your shirt. "It is."

"Alright," she says, voice teetering on a knife's edge. "I know better than to try to change your mind when you're like this. He's on the podium by the way. Oh, and watch what you say to Max- Pierre will read into it."

She hangs up without a goodbye, leaving you to deal with the realization that the podium is indeed VER RIC GAS on your own. Your eyes are glued to the Red Bull and McLaren drivers, blatantly ignoring the one in the white suit as the anthems play and the champagne is sprayed, turning away to busy yourself with making coffee when Daniel hands his liquid filled race boot to third place.

You weren't quite sure how you were supposed to watch what you said to Max- there was no reason to in your mind. Max was your next closest friend on the grid and you had every right to congratulate him if you wanted to.

Resolute in your decision, you text Max and Daniel a quick congratulations before shutting off the TV and closing your laptop.

Max's insane custom ringtone he'd selected for himself nearly makes you jump out of your skin when it blares from your phone.

"Hey great race-"

"Did you see it? I wasn't sure if you'd watch it- did you see my move on Hamilton when he tried to get past me?" He was talking a mile a minute like he was still out on track. "I was like- and then Dan tried to overtake me on the final lap and I was like no way! And then-"

"Max," you chime in, dragging out the 'a' with a sing-song voice. "You're rambling."

"Oh right. Yeah but I made it! Led every lap and finished with another win."

"That's great." You force as much enthusiasm in the words as possible, trying to match his chaotic energy. "You did great. I know it probably doesn't mean much, but I'm proud to be your friend. You beat a world champ!"

"It means a lot-" 

"Who's that?"

You stiffen at the familiar cadence. You had assumed Max was back in the garage when he called, but he must have still been in the podium room. You could picture him in his race suit, smudges of grease and dirt staining the pristine white. Beads of sweat probably ran down his neck, begging to be brushed away by your tongue. 

"Uh, no one," Max says in a lame attempt to cover up his digression. "I gotta go," he whispers to you. 

"Let me talk-"

"Wait don't," you start, but the call ends abruptly and you blink. You stare down at your phone, completely dumbfounded. Of course his instinct would be to talk to you, to share the euphoria of a podium with you. It was the first victory in three years he wouldn't have you to celebrate with.

It was only a matter of time until his resolve popped like the cork on his champagne.

**********

Pierre's phone is in his hand as soon as Max hangs up. He hefts his trophy in the other, a wild grin on his sweaty face as he snaps a picture. He makes sure he's the only one in the frame, shamelessly wanting himself to be the center of your attention.

"Mate," Daniel pipes up, catching his eye, "you think that's a good idea?" 

Pierre sighs, cutting the Australian a glare. "I'm just trying to fill her in."

"Wasn't your plan to give her space?"

"It's been a week, isn't that long enough?"

"Take it from me, sometimes it takes months for someone to figure things out. Hell, you know how long it took me to sort through my feelings for-"

"I know," Pierre cuts in. "I know. I just- a snap can't hurt can it? C'mon, I just got a podium! If it goes bad I can blame it on the post race jitters."

Daniel holds up his hands and shrugs. "You're a grown man. Do what you want."

Pierre studies the photo, scrutinizing the way his hair was plastered to his head and the awkward way he'd posed to keep anyone but himself out of the frame. It's his genuine smile that he knows will do you in, and ultimately the reason he sends it.

His phone is a lead weight clutched in his grip as he winds through the paddock, constantly stopped by vips and team members congratulating him. None of what anyone says registers, he just tries his best to match their mood and sputter praises about his team's contributions to his podium. 

The snap you finally send back is only from the eyes up, but it's enough. He's surrounded by people in his driver room, but for ten seconds it might as well have just been him staring at a sliver of your face on a screen.

The tiny lines at the corners of your shining eyes tell him you're smiling, which is a step in the right direction even if you won't let him see your entire face. It's enough to reignite the hope that slumbered in his chest while waiting for you to pull the trigger and make a move.

He sends back a video of the people in the room, who cheer when they realize they're being filmed. 'Wish you were here,' is what he captions it and sends it without giving himself a chance to overthink.

Ten minutes pass with no reply.

The beer he’s already consumed have given him a pleasant buzz as well as an excuse to make a bad decision or two. He takes another video of the room to post to his Instagram story, 'Missing you' written in the lower left corner.

Fuck, he hopes you'll see it and regret leaving him on read. Instead all he gets is a text from Charles chastising him for stirring up drama.

Really Pierre?

Blame it on the alcohol, he texts back. 

I know you aren’t drunk. You can’t form a coherent sentence when you are.

Guess i gotta drink more then

Pierre doesn’t turn anyone bearing alcohol away. He's two celebratory shots deep when Daniel finds him sulking in a corner. "You've got my girl texting me freaking out over your story. I've seen it and I gotta agree with her. Was that really necessary?"

"She left me on read," Pierre says like that was enough explanation. His head was spinning and it was getting hard to keep the room upright. "And it's the truth. I miss her like hell. I want her here. She was supposed to come, you know? I was gonna have her fly in with me on the jet. She doesn't start class again until June. I had this whole week planned out. I was gonna show her Texas- she’s from New York and..." 

He trails off when he notes Dan’s pitying smile. Daniel sighs and runs a hand through his curls. "I know. I get it, okay? I know it's hard but you can't force it. You've gotta let her come back on her own, all you're doing now is pushing her away."

He was fucking clueless when it came to these things. He'd had you for a few precious moments and now that he'd lost you he didn't know how to act. His mind was running on hazy autopilot; he barely knew which way was up, let alone did he trust himself to make any sort of important decision.

He stares down at the shot he'd been handed at some point before throwing it back. The cheap whiskey burns his throat but he barely registers the sting. "Should I take it down?"

"She already saw it," Daniel says gently, as if he anticipates how bad the fuck up will hurt. And it does. It hits him like a tire wall at two hundred kph, knowing that you were probably ranting or crying on the phone with Daniel’s girlfriend. "But yeah, that's probably best. People are already wondering what happened between you two, no need to throw fuel on the fire."

"You're probably right-" Pierre cuts off when Charles arrives with a grimace on his face. He shakes his head and gives his friend’s shoulder a squeeze. 

"For once I'm not the dumb one."

"You're a dick, you know that right?" Daniel says, allowing Pierre to delete the post. It takes him a few tries before he gets it down, but undeniably rumors will be circulating in the morning if they weren’t already.

"Honestly what were you thinking?" Charles demands, edging towards full blown yelling. "I told you to leave her be. The gossip stemming from this isn’t gonna help.”

The last thing he needed was someone else telling him how stupid his decision had been. At least Daniel had the decency to show sympathy. 

"Honestly?" Pierre responds with the same intensity, his anger flaring. "Honestly, Charles, I was thinking that she was happy for me but was too afraid to take the leap. She haunts me. Every second I’m awake I have to force myself away from her. Even when I’m asleep I can’t get away from her. So I don’t know, maybe I wanted to haunt her too."

“This isn’t the way you win her back and you know it.”

“I know!” Pierre throws up his hands. “But what else am I supposed to do? She won’t talk to me. She has no problem talking to Max or Daniel but apparently she draws the line at me.”

“You know it’s not-” Daniel's eyes flick to his phone and he fights back a grin. All it does is remind Pierre that he lost the person that could bring that sort of smile to his own face. "Fellas I wish I could stay and help but I gotta get going. Charles, I think Pierre needs another drink." He slaps five American dollars in the Monegasque's hand. "First one is on me."

Pierre is too deep in a spiral to care when his friend drags him from the party to a bar just south of the circuit. Somehow it was within walking distance; the floor was sticky and the lighting was for shit but he didn't care.

Pierre's focus was on downing shot after shot, erasing the broken image of you his mind had conjured up. He never should have posted the story. It only served to feed into what the media had been speculating for the past week and dredged up more tension between you.

Pierre stops checking his phone two shots later. The liquor provides a wet blanket over his senses, dousing him in cold water and scrambling his brain. He could barely remember his own name, but yours still lived in the corner of his mind.

Even drunk, he refused to forget you.

Two hours and who knows how much alcohol later, Charles helps Pierre back to his hotel room.

Pierre falls asleep as soon as he hits the mattress, head too blurry to dredge up memories of you.

[storiesbymads]

THIS BIKINI’S MADE FORE DANCING (AND HITTING THE FLOOR)³ ( sun kissed desires . )

Y/N finds herself on the lovers cruise she was supposed to be on with her fiancé—ex-fiancé—when she meets a single man in the suite right next to hers.

warnings: smut

add yourself to the taglist + series masterlist

Your morning ventures ended with probably the best mid morning nap you’d ever had in your life. You woke up without a headache, thankfully, and with the way you’d guzzled the water bottle on your nightstand before you’d crashed out, you felt halfway ready to take on the world.

You dug through your duffel bag in an attempt to find one of the twelve bathing suits you’d packed three days ago. Hopefully you’d packed your cute ones, you’d been in such a rush you honestly had no idea what all was in your bag or if anything really matched. Finally, you found a black set at the bottom that was simple enough that it wouldn’t require too many of your brain cells to put on, still being kinda sleepy and everything.

Finding your way to the pool was easy, considering it was in the dead center of the boat. You were surprised to see the number of kids sitting around the edge of the pool when you got down there, feet dangling in the chlorine filled liquid. You glanced down at the phone in your hand to see the time. 12:08. Adult Swim.

You crossed the short expanse of wooden walkway over to the lounge chairs, dropping your few belongings onto the small table beside the single free one you could find before covering your phone and key card with the towel you’d just barely remembered to bring down so the sun wouldn’t wreak too much havoc on them. The chair was surprisingly more comfortable than it looked when you situated yourself on it.

The sound of a whistle sent your head snapping in the direction of the pool only to see a few dozen kids jumping into the water as the few adults scrambled to get out in time.

And, of course, your eyes found Sidney’s in record time. God, how could one man be so pretty? The fact that he was practically dripping wet didn’t help, either.

He had a pair of teal swim trunks on, oddly enough, and they seemed to cling to everything as he climbed out of the water. To you, it felt like he was moving in slow motion, but it probably only took him about thirty seconds before he was walking in your direction. No. Right. To. You.

He shook his head slightly as he did so, attempting to conceal the grin making its way onto his face. God, he’s cute, too.

“Fancy meeting you here,” he said, louder than the other times you’d spoken with him—you gave that up to the fact that you were outside. He’d still yet to adjust his swim trunks and the tent in them seemed to be staring you right in the eyes.

“Hey, you’re the one that came up to me,” you scoffed dismissively. Sidney just cleared his throat in response, nodding toward his belongings in the seat next to yours. The only thing separating his belongings from yours was the tiny metal table, and even that was covered in your personal items. “Oh.”

“Oh,” he mocked lightly. He opted to sit on the edge of your chair rather than take the last two steps towards his own, the warm skin of his thigh brushing against your own. The barely there touch sent tingles up your spine. You couldn’t imagine what having all of him pressed up against you would feel like.

He picked his hand up off the plastic of the chair, hesitating slightly and letting it rest in the air above your leg for a second too long, before letting his rough fingers meet the smooth skin.

“I’ve been thinking,” he started. “About your offer earlier.”

Your breath hitched in the back of your throat as his hand trailed higher up your thigh, dangerously close to the flimsy bow holding the fabric together.

“M-my offer?” you stuttered out.

“Are you sober...” he trailed off, tongue darting out to wet his lips. He was fiddling with the nylon string at this point.

“Y/N,” you hummed out a response. “And, yes. Took a nap and everything.”

“Good,” he said before abruptly getting up so that he could collect his things from his own chair. Your skin felt cold without his touch despite the scalding heat you were being exposed to. He turned back around as he shoved his phone into his still damp pocket, “C’mon, pretty girl. We don’t have all day.”

You practically jumped up from your seat to grab your things, in spite of a chuckling Sidney behind you.

The walk to the lobby happened in what felt like half a second and before you knew it, Sidney had you pressed up against the outside of his room door. Maybe being on the first floor wasn’t such a bad thing.

His hips were pressing into yours, his fingers were bruising against your waist, and his lips. They were everywhere. You don’t even remember when he’d started kissing you, you just know you didn’t ever want him to stop.

He pulled away just enough to leave you panting and chasing his lips.

“I gotta open the door,” he whispered, lips grazing yours as he did so. The door clicked seconds later which allowed the two of you to slip inside only for Sidney to halfway shove your against the other side of the door the second it closed. Your palms fell flat against his exposed chest, slipping lower and lower as the moments passed until you were thumbing the hemline of his shorts.

“Please,” you whimpered out.

“Please, what?” he asked.

“Just. Please,” you answered. His hand found the tie to your top in a matter of seconds, undoing it slowly before repeating the process with the one around your neck and letting it fall to the floor between you.

His lips attached to the column of your throat as his fingers traced the edges of your bottoms. His mouth moved lower and lower until he was circling your left nipple with his tongue.

Stopping suddenly, he rose back up to his full height, motioning for you to jump with two taps on your hip as he lifted it to his waist. He carried you across the short expanse of his room, dropping you on the recently made up comforter of his bed.

“You’re so beautiful, you know that?” he mumbled before reattaching his lips to yours. He tasted like heaven. There was a faint mint flavor that you chalked up to being his toothpaste mixed with the distinct taste of Minute Maid lemonade and a sweet tea brand you couldn’t identify.

His clothes cock rutted against your core, sending flickers of the sight of him getting out of the pool glittering through your mind again. Those swim trunks left nothing to the imagination.

He shifted lower over your body, tugging your bikini bottoms down in one swift motion and quite literally tossing them over his shoulder.

“Look at you,” he praised. “So pretty and pink and wet for me. You’re dripping all over my sheets, pretty girl.”

One of his digits slipped between your folds, spreading the wetness around as he circled your clit with the pad of his finger.

“I think you’re a little-“ you cut yourself off with a moan when he slipped the finger inside you. “Overdressed.”

“Patience,” he said, inserting another finger into your hole. He curled his fingers in a scissoring motion, eliciting a high pitched gasp to fall from your lips. His thumb quickly found your clit which sent your eyes rolling straight into the back of your head.

“Oh my God,” you whimpered.

“Look at me,” he said. You ignored his comment, head hitting the pillow underneath you only for his movements to stop. “Look at me.”

Your eyes snapped back open.

“I want to see your eyes when you come on my cock,” he said, pulling his fingers from you so that he could shove the teal shorts down his legs just enough for his dick to slap against his stomach.

He grabbed a condom out of his wallet on the nightstand, ripping the packaging open with his teeth before rolling it down the length of his dick.

“Fuck me,” you groaned out as he lined his tip up with your entrance.

“I was planning on it,” he exhaled. He didn’t even give you a second to respond before he pushed in halfway.

“Holy fuck, you’re huge,” you said, unintentionally clenching around him. He shuddered before fully bottoming out.

“And you’re incredibly tight,” he said. It didn’t take him long to find his pace as his hands molded bruises into the sides of your hips.

His lips found your neck soon after, running his teeth lightly along the top of your collarbone as your hands found his hair. You would’ve commented on the softness of it if you had a coherent thought in your head. But all you could think about was the burning pleasure building in the pit of your stomach.

“I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum-“ you repeated like a mantra until your orgasm washed over you like a tidal wave.

“I’m right behind you,” he said, hips snapping into yours at an even faster rate. He lasted about two more thrusts before you felt him still inside you. He stayed there for a moment before he pulled out and made his way to the bathroom to dispose of the condom.

The thoughts started rushing into your head before the post-orgasm bliss even had the time to fully wear off. You couldn’t believe you’d just done that. Sure, he was gorgeous and, sure, he was practically the most gorgeous man you’d ever laid eyes on. But you were gonna be stuck living next door to him for the next two weeks.

You were already off the bed and grabbing your things from where they’d been dropped at the door—something you didn’t remember doing in the first place—when you heard Sidney turn the shower on. You had your bikini back on before his eyes hit you again.

“You can join me, if you want,” he said as he watched you scramble around his room from where he was leant up against the ensuite’s door frame.

“As much as I would love to do that, I’ve gotta get going,” you said, throwing open the room door and letting it shut before he could get another word out.

You had other things on your plate, anyway. Current mission: find Sigma. She might not be your best friend in the world, at least, yet, but you needed to tell someone about what just happened.

And judging by the way you’d scrounged what felt like the entire ship at this point—not really, you really only checked like three, very public areas—your mission was proving more impossible than you would’ve liked. Then, when you thought all hope was lost, you remembered the teensy tiny little tidbit of information she’d given you this morning when you were in six mimosas. She was staying in Room 215.

“Y/N! How unexpected,” Sigma said as she opened up her door wide enough to let you in. Her southern charm was seeping through every word and it really was no wonder how she’d already gotten married at 23.

You saw a man laying on the bed, thankfully, fully clothed with a remote control laying on his stomach. You heard a woman’s voice coming from the TV and what sounded like a murder documentary.

Sigma was ushering you out onto her balcony before you had time to really search her and husband’s room any further.

“What’s this surprise visit all about? I thought you’d gotten of me this morning,” she said as the two of you sat in the bolted down, metal chairs out there.

“You know that really hot guy in the room next to mine,” you said.

“No,” she exhaled. Maybe you’d forgotten to mention that this morning. Course, you barely remembered anything you’d mentioned this morning.

“Well,” you started. “There’s a really hot guy in the room right next to mine. And I may or may not have just hooked up with him.”

“You’re kidding!” she gasped.

“I almost wish I was,” you groaned, pulling your knees up to your chest.

“Was it that bad?” she asked with a wince. You looked over at her with a dumbfounded look on your face.

“It was the best sex I’ve had in my life,” you said.

“So, what’s the issue?”

“I don’t know. He’s kinda like my neighbor for right now, and somehow we manage to bump into each other everywhere we go. I just don’t want things to be even more uncomfortable for me on this stupid boat.”

“Honey.”

“I know, I know. It’s dumb,” you sighed. “I’m just not ready to get involved with another guy. Not after what happened with Max,” you said.

“Look, sweetheart. You’re never gonna find someone if you don’t give yourself the chance to open up. And who says this whole thing with your supah hot guy has to go any further than it has. I say if you get the chance, go for it.”

“Get the chance?”

“To have sex again! According to you, it was the best sex, like, ever.”

The next twenty minutes went on like that until Sigma’s husband practically forced her to go back inside and get ready for something. You took that as your cue to leave.

You were glad you’d gone to find her today. As weird as a start that you’d had for your friendship, she was probably one of the easiest people you’d ever had the opportunity of talking to.

The walk back to your room was quick. That was when you realized the only item you currently had in your possession was your phone. And not your key card. You knew you’d had it before the incident with Sidney and you were sure you’d grabbed everything on your way out of Sigma’s room. Which left one option. It was still on Sidney’s floor.

Sighing, you dropped your head in defeat, walking the two steps it took so that you were face to face with the wooden door you were pressed up against over an hour ago. Your hand hovered in the air until you worked up enough courage to actually knock.

“Here for this?” he asked, holding up the white card in one hand after he opened the door just wide enough to see you.

“Yes, thank you,” you said, reaching out to grab it from him only for him to pull it back, inches from your grip.

“You could’ve just gone to the front desk,” he said.

“I-“ you started. “Forgot that was an option.”

“Why are you always wet when we see each other?” you asked with an eye roll as the door swung open.

“Actually, I distinctly remember you being equally as wet when we met earlier,” he said.

“You’re insufferable,” you scoffed.

“And you’re adorable,” he said before actually handing over the key.

“Says the guy that takes hour long showers,” you said.

“I got a little preoccupied.”

“Uh-huh,” you hummed.

“You sure you have to go to your room?” he asked, tantalizingly slow, allowing his words to hang heavy in the air around you as his tongue slipped past his lips. Your eyes stayed glued to the water droplet running down his throat.

“I guess-“

“Well, come on then. Wouldn’t want you getting cold out there, pretty girl,” he said, the hand still holding your key card clasping around your wrist as he pulled you into his chest, and consequently, back into his room.

tags @kiedhara @thefootballfaithful @stuetzlesumlaut @penstxgal1968 @linkingdolans @englishmuffinwritesbooks @mrsvech37 @honeybearbarzal @burningbiatch @hannabritta @monalicia @mymanshawn @butgilinsky @pierreslucdubois @damndunner @klutchnetsov @stampiej @punkharts @heatherawoowoo

[chilling-seavey]

Qui Totum Vult Totum Perdit (d.s.) - The Fight

A/N With Hope’s intense google doc analysis of trying to piece together Daniel and Avalon’s fight through his flashbacks, I figured I should give you the real thing!

“Your ignorance is fucking incredible, Daniel James!”

Her words were venomous, punctuated by the slam of the front door the moment we stepped back inside the house. I was still trying to put my wallet in my pocket after paying the taxi driver, showing exactly how quickly she decided to snap back at me after we already endured a terribly tense flight home. Yet, apparently a simple question of “are you okay” was completely disgusting of me to ask.

“You can’t just lose your temper like this every time you get a bit upset, Avalon! I’m just trying to talk to you.” I called as calmly as I could as I set my computer bag on the kitchen island.

She grabbed herself an empty glass from the cupboard and slammed the door shut before turning on the tap aggressively. Her brown eyes glared daggers in my direction over the rim of the glass as she raised it to her lips to take a sip and the diamond ring on her left hand caught the light of the late evening setting sun coming in through the window. Flickers of orange light writhed on the marble countertop between us and died when she lowered her hand out of the incoming rays.

There was a moment of silence as the beginnings of this obvious inevitable fight lingered between us.

“Trying to talk to me?” she repeated my words slowly as she stepped around the island, water glass held in both hands as if she was ready to interrogate me, “Well, gee, Daniel, that’s the first time in days you’ve even bothered.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I frowned.

“You spent most of our honeymoon with your laptop and your goddamn work rather than with me.”

I sighed, “Ava, come on, you know I had to-”

“No! You didn’t have to do anything! The only thing you had to do was relax for the first time in your goddamn life but that was too much to ask, wasn’t it? God…stupid me.” she shook her head in near disbelief, “I thought you might have actually given a shit about me once we got to Costa Rica but apparently, I was wrong.”

A rouge was rising on her sun-tanned cheeks, a clear indication of her true anger she felt, but her accusations weren’t making it easy for me to simply let her have this one. It was a fight we had before and were probably destined to again. It just came with the job.

“Give a shit about you? Avalon, you’re my fucking wife, of course I give a shit about you! You were the one complaining about wanting to leave the entire time. That doesn’t make the trip very fucking enjoyable.”

“You weren’t around me!” she yelled, tapping her hand against the cup in her hand so the sound of her ring against the glass punctuated each of her words. “What person wants to spend their honeymoon alone? Of course, I wanted to go home! I was basically there by myself and I was miserable!”

“I had to get some shit done! Jonah needed me to double check a few things while we were away. It’s not the end of the world and I’m sorry if you feel that way!”

I could see her visibly tense and she turned her head so she didn’t have to look at me, jabbing under her breath, “That’s always your excuse, isn’t it? ‘Always gotta get some shit done’. Well, I’m sick and tired of coming second to your work all the time.”

“Well what do you want me to do?! Do you not like having this house and a nice car and that huge fucking diamond on your finger? Well sorry to break it to you, honey, but without this job, you wouldn’t have any of that!”

“There you go again!” Avalon threw her hand up in my direction, “It’s not all about your fucking money, Daniel! I don’t care about that! I would even be perfectly happy living on the side of the fucking street with you because I love you! None of this other shit that you think is required for a happy and fulfilling life; because – news flash – it’s not!”

“Well it makes me pretty damn happy.”

“Oh really? Are you happy now? Huh? Does this make you fucking happy?”

“Yes! Because at least my house or my car doesn’t spew this fucking bullshit at me all the time!” I yelled back.

Avalon literally scoffed and took a step back, her voice lowered to a steady unimpressed drawl, “You’re a selfish prick, Daniel Seavey. I’m done trying to help you…you’re such a lost cause that…God…sometimes I wish I never married you.”

“Then why did you? If I make you so fucking miserable all the time! Are you that insecure that you’d rather be miserable with me than be alone? You can’t stand yourself either, can you?”

“Fuck you!”

“My brother always told me you were too fucking weak to be my wife…couldn’t handle the baggage that comes with the job.”

“Leave Christian out of this. He doesn’t know bull-fucking-shit about us and especially not about me. Neither of you know how hard it is!”

“It’s not hard, Avalon! You sit here and look pretty and I buy you sparkly things! It’s not fucking hard! You’re just being an obnoxious brat about everything, and you always have!”

“You invalidate my feelings all the time!” she yelled.

“You’re too goddamn sensitive! It’s not a big deal!” I shouted louder to top her.

“God, I fucking hate you!” she huffed. She turned to set the glass angrily on the kitchen counter but it fell and shattered on the kitchen floor between us, silencing our screaming match except for our heavy breaths and Avalon’s sniffled tears.

I sighed at the realization that the whole confrontation went on too far and I tried to reach for her, but she pulled her hand back and moved away from me, “Aves.”

“Don’t.” she snapped.

“Avalon, I’m sorry, I-”

“Sorry doesn’t fix everything.” she retorted sharply, yet I could hear the exhaustion in her voice. “I’m sleeping in the studio tonight.”

I swallowed thickly and nodded, glancing to the ground with a heavy heart, the pieces of broken glass shimmering in the kitchen light between us. She went to step around me but I instinctively reached out a hand to her to keep her back from accidently stepping on any broken glass, “Careful.”

“God, Daniel.” she huffed, “Please don’t.”

I didn’t make a move to stop her as she walked around me to storm across the living room and to the back door. She didn’t look back as she opened the sliding glass door and slipped out into the darkness that the falling night brought. I watched her disappear out of the house and into the backyard, her form fading from view like she had been a figment of my imagination the whole time, the cruelest most perfect kind of dream.

Oh, how I loved her. And I was so, so stupid.

I busied myself in her absence by bringing my laptop bag and our shared suitcase to the master bedroom and rested them against the wall just inside the door. I returned to the kitchen to clean up the broken glass and spilt water, glancing out the back door as if half expecting her to come back inside. I was met with darkness.

I squinted slightly to try and see the light from the backyard studio window but it was still pitch black. Odd. Usually you could see the light from the main house. I brushed it off that she simply went to bed early after such a fight and focussed on the broken glass. I had just crouched down to pick up the worst of it with a steady hand when the pling of the security camera peaked my attention. It rang steady from the monitor’s spot on the front counter and I headed over to it to check on the studio cameras, but the alarm was disarmed from the studio before I could reach it, sending the kitchen back into silence.

My phone buzzed in my pocket at that moment and I pulled it out to read the text from my older brother,

Did you get home okay?

I hesitated as I read his message, not particularly wanting to be honest with him and have to endure his confessions of his dislike of my new wife and her very personable opinions on my job. It was our private relationship and Christian seemed to like to weasel his nose into it sometimes. Ah, well. He meant well. Before I could decide if I wanted to answer him right away or not, I heard a faint scream from the backyard and my head shot up to look towards the sliding glass doors. I paused, expecting Avalon to come running in to ask me to kill a spider any moment now.

But there was nothing.

I pocketed my phone and walked briskly across the main floor of the house, broken glass forgotten, and slipped outside into the warm LA evening. The studio was only a few paces from the back porch and I jumped down the three steps and across the stone tiles to the door. I didn’t bother knocking before I went inside, the darkness that consumed me when I entered already adding more concern to my conscious, and I reached for the light switch blindly.

“Ava? I thought I heard you scream, are you-”

The scene that met my eyes with the flick of the switch had my breath stopping in my throat, my words falling into silence, and my heart dropping into my stomach. Avalon was laying over the rug across the small room, eyes staring blankly into the ceiling, and her throat slit until she was laying in a pool of her own blood.

“Aves.” I breathed shakily, taking a step towards her, then a second, “Avalon, honey…”

She wasn’t moving. I barely made it halfway across the studio but with my back to the door I had entered through, someone came up behind me and grabbed me, slapping their hand over my mouth and holding me down by an arm around my waist. I struggled and tried to get away but they had a good grip on me as they swiped my feet out from under me and took me to the ground. The sharp slam of my head hitting the side of the piano on the way down was the last sound in the room before I blacked out.

Detective Team: @jonahlovescoffee​ @randomlimelightxxx​ @stuffofseaveyy​ @hopinglimelight​ @tempus-ut-luceant​ @br4nd1s​ @xkelsev​ @hiya-its-amber​ @the-girl-who-cried-wolf​

[etherrealoblivion]

A Broken System (part two)

PART ONE

gif by @toyboxboy​

A/N: A THOUSAND FOLLOWERS!!! here’s a treat! part two!!!

tags: smut, part two.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Words: 5,930

MASTERLIST

~

“Professor Reid!” Morgan shouted, holding up his drink, clinking it against Spencer’s. 

Morgan had dragged him out the night before his first class, insisting that they needed to celebrate. Spencer didn’t really see what there was to celebrate. He’d been offered a job as a Professor at Georgetown after a particularly eloquent lecture on Criminology. At first, though, he hadn’t been too keen on the idea. He was good at his job as a profiler, why change that? It was something Hotch had said that changed his mind.

“You’re a great profiler, Reid. You’ve learned so much. Maybe it’s time to teach the next genius.”

And then it had clicked. Something about sharing his experience with bright young faces that sat where he once did, just felt right.

So he accepted the offer the week before first term, the school scrambling to get the paperwork in order and Spencer scrambling to prepare a lesson plan.

It hadn’t occurred to him that teaching would be more time-consuming than profiling.

“Whoo! Professor!” Garcia cheered, downing her fourth shot of the night. “Teach me somethin’. Now!” she slurred, spilling a bit of her drink on Prentiss.

Spencer laughed, politely excusing himself to use the bathroom.

Technically he did go to the bathroom. He splashed some water in his face, then stepped outside to call a cab. He’d go back in, say his ride was on its way, and leave. Simple. 

Before he could pull out his phone, he noticed a woman bent over in the alley, breathing heavily. Reaching out a hand, he placed it on her shoulder, trying to be comforting.

Quickly, he was spun around and slammed up against the brick wall of the alley.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Dammit. Spencer knew better than to grab some girl in a back alley behind a club.

But then he turned around.

Woah.

There was a fierce look in her eye, sizing him up. She had on a tight black skirt that perfectly accentuated her curves along with a flowy top that left more to the imagination. What really completed the ensemble was the large sash across her front that said: Birthday Bitch. She was beautiful.

No.

Spencer didn’t let himself think that. Sure, he could appreciate a woman’s beauty. But too much of a good thing…. He had to keep up his barrier. 

But then she started to talk. And he didn’t stand a chance.

The way she went on about handshakes and the dangers of going clubbing was extremely adorable. Spencer found himself unable to hold back from bantering with her. Unlike almost every single woman he’d ever encountered, she was easy for him to talk to. The occasional stutter slipped out but she just smiled when it did.

Then she kissed him. 

If he hadn’t been attracted before, he was now. Her lips tasted like bourbon and cherries. The feel of her against him was intoxicating. So he walked her home, trying his best to keep his expectations low. If she truly just wanted him to walk her home safely, that’s what he’d do, make sure she was safe and sound, and leave without complaint. If she happened to want more than that, who was he to say no?

It wasn’t like he’d never had sex. Actually, the two most serious relationships he’d had had barely consisted of touching. But he’d had other . . . experiences. The problem was, he’d only had sex with women he’d known for a day or two. Mostly in college. Sometimes online. Never at a club. 

Spencer had rules. He didn’t let himself get attached. If he started to feel a spark, he cut off contact. It was the only way to make sure no one was hurt.

But this girl…. She made him throw every rule out the window.

A deep, dark part of him wished he hadn’t asked how old she was turning. God, how wrong was that.

He should have arrested her. She had been in a club, drunk, and went home with a stranger. But she’d also kissed him. And he was pretty sure she felt his erection in the alley. How the hell was he supposed to explain that?

“Hey Morgan, I brought this girl in for having a fake ID. I figured it out just before I was going to go into her apartment and fuck her up the wall. Don’t worry she’s only fourteen years younger than me and slightly inebriated.”

That would go over great.

Okay, so he couldn’t arrest her. But he most certainly couldn’t - to be crude - fuck her up the wall as he’d planned. He’d just say that this was a terrible mistake and let her off with a warning.

It was a solid plan.

Then she called him sir.

Spencer was ashamed at the speed he gave in. Before he knew it, his mouth was on her clit and his fingers buried in her pussy. The sound of her begging him to fuck her was a sound he’d never forget.

And then he was inside her. His bones turned to jelly and his tongue melted down his throat. This had to be what heaven felt like. Pure, unadulterated, paradise.

Who was this girl?

The orgasm was absolutely earth-shattering. He hadn’t been with anyone in so long, he was surprised he lasted as long as he had. He was so pleased he’d been able to make her come. Good to know that sex skills weren’t something that could be unlearned.

When she’d asked him to stay, every bone in Spencer’s body screamed yes. He knew it was a bad idea. One of his biggest rules was don’t stay the night. He wanted to so badly, but he couldn’t. He could not. There was no way.

“I’d like that too.”

Shit.

~

His alarm went off at six-thirty. Y/N was coiled so tightly up against him that getting up seemed futile.

Apparently she was a heavy sleeper. He was able to gently withdraw his arm and check his phone.

Twenty-nine messages.

My man! It’s that Professor vibe you give off now. You got game.

Spence, Morgan told me you picked up a girl? Are you back in the game? Use protection! -JJ

Spencie!! OMG!! Do you like her? What color are her eyes? Does she like Doctor Who? When’s her birthday? What type of-

He pressed clear all, deleting the messages and getting dressed. He had his first class at seven-thirty and he really needed to shower and change. But he didn’t wanna leave Y/N.

Pulling out a notecard from his wallet, he scribbled her a quick note, kissed her on the forehead, and slipped out the door, locking it before it closed.

He was halfway home before he understood the weight behind what he’d done. He’d had sex with a twenty-year-old that he’d met outside a club. And he’d planned to meet with her again. 

What the fuck was he doing?

~

He made it to his office just in time, surprised to see that it had already been set up for him.

The desk was a dark chestnut, bits and baubles placed around it to make him feel at home. There was some paperwork in the center that he’d deal with later. Right now, he had a class to teach.

He opened the door to the lecture hall and walked in, briefly daunted by the sea of faces staring at him.

Come on Spencer, it’s just like a guest lecture.

“Hello, class.”

“Hello.”

Spencer found himself smiling at the way all of the students had chimed in. This wouldn’t be too weird.

“Please take out your laptops and create a new word document. Once you’ve done that, open your email, please.”

As the students scrambled to follow instructions, he perused their faces, making note of expressions, seat choice, and enthusiasm level.

Then his confidence flew out the window.

Seated next to a redhead in the fourth row was the unmistakable shocked expression of -

Y/N?

~

~

notes: so i am no longer doing taglists im really really sorry it’s just way too much of a hassle. BUT i pretty much only post fanfic and don’t really reblog stuff or get a lot of asks soooo if you wanna check for new content, it’ll be on my blog! sorry again <3

[collecting-stories]

Fangs - Rafe Cameron

Request: Could I request smth where the reader and Rafe are having like a secret casual fling, but then Rafe admits he's catching feelings and the reader tells him that she's in love with John B (her best friend)

Request: Can I request a Rafe fic based on Matt Champion - Fangs , or Cocaine by Pink Sweat$ 🥺🤲🏻 whichever one inspires you more to write

A/N: Since Reputation is a similar storyline I thought I would change up the outcome...also...a smidgen of smut (it’s not my forte so I apologize in advance if its the worst thing you’ve ever read.)

Outer Banks Masterlist

///

The curtains were still drawn, just a hint of sunlight peeking through as you sat on the bed, tying your bikini top. On the other side of the door you could hear Rose Cameron’s shrill voice bossing around the maid. Inside the room it was still mostly dark, chilled from the air conditioning, the comforter was mussed up on the bed, pushed away from your side. You had your shorts in hand and grabbed your shirt from the floor. Keys, phone, wallet, all sat on the nightstand next to a pink bong.  

Behind you, on the other side of the bed, someone groaned. You looked back over your shoulder as Rafe pushed the comforter away from his face, hair mussed. His fringe hung in his eyes as he yawned and looked over at you.  

“Hey, you leaving?” He asked, watching as you tied your hair back.  

“Yeah.” You nodded, standing up. The cool composure you worked so hard on falling into place. Rafe sat up, scooting toward your side of the bed as he leaned back against the headboard. “I’ll text you later?”

“Okay.” He looked a little lost in the morning and you knew it had everything to do with last night.  

If it had been before or even in the heat of the moment you could’ve easily ignored it. Written him off as trying to get you there or just being a little too far gone. But it wasn’t either of those things. He’d said it as he came down. With his weight on you, sweaty in too warm bedroom, he’d kissed you a little longer than usual and told you he loved you.  

You’d chosen to ignore it, at least you pretended too. But the words were there at the forefront of your brain the entire night. Nothing you did made you feel more restful. You knew what you should’ve done. You should’ve pulled on your clothes right then, told him you were cutting things off, and left.  

“We’re not gonna-”

“I’d rather not, Rafe.” You replied, grabbing your phone to check it. A text from Kiara asking if you’d heard from John B. According to your phone it was later in the morning than you’d thought it was. “I told you-”

“Casual, yeah I know.” He nodded, “it doesn’t feel casual though.”

“Please, Rafe, don’t do this.” You stressed.  

“You’ve been here every night this week. You can’t act like that doesn’t mean something.” He said, moving so that he was at the edge of the bed, grabbing your hands. You didn’t pull away immediately, staring down at your hands intertwined with his.

You’d been adamant that this thing you were doing was only casual. And that hadn’t been an issue for Rafe in the beginning, or at all, until last night. And now you were wondering how long he had been catching feelings for you.  

“Yeah,” you shrugged, “I like having sex with you.”  

“Baby,” Rafe pulled you down onto his lap. He kissed along your neck and shoulder and you moved your head to the side to give him more access.  

You tried to ignore the way his fingers ran along your thigh. “Don’t Rafe,” you wanted to say that you didn’t want to do this, to have to end things because he was getting too emotionally involved. But then you would have to admit that maybe you wanted to continue because you were that involved too. 

The hand around your back brushed along your side, fingers grazing the edge of your bikini top. You gripped your clothes tighter as his other hand pressed against the inside of your thigh. It was a silent request for access, one you were too familiar with by now. That should have been the warning sign, the pressure against your thigh should have woken you out of the trance that seemed to enclose Rafe’s bedroom but instead your other leg went slack, falling off his lap, your foot stabilizing you as you opened up for him. 

Eyes closed, the sensation of him drowned out any thoughts that had been weighing you down. His hands were warm against your skin and you shifted on his thigh as his fingers slipped passed your bikini bottoms. You always wore bathing suits to his house under the guise that you had just literally been swimming but usually it was simply because it was easier to pull a string than to both taking off clothes. 

“Holy shit Rafe,” you stuttered, grabbing his forearm as his middle finger circled your clit. His other hand moved up to your throat as he placed kisses along your shoulder. Somehow he’d managed to manipulate your body so you were straddling one of his thighs, facing the door to his bedroom. With your back against his chest, his grip on your neck tightened just enough that you could feel the pressure of his fingers on your throat at the same time he pressed against your clit. You jerked forward, breath catching from lack of air. 

“What’s the matter baby?” His lips brushed against your ear as he spoke. 

You inhaled, nails scratching at his forearm as he continued to play with your clit, middle finger brushing against the bundle of nerves so delicately it was barely a touch. But you knew what he was doing. You were always hypersensitive in the morning and he knew it. 

His grip on your neck loosened as he slipped his middle finger inside of you and your toes curled around the carpeting. “Please, Rafe.” Your voice sounded far off. 

“Does that feel good?”

You nodded, head bobbing against his shoulder. He pressed his thumb against your clit and you whimpered at the sudden pain it caused.

“That’s not an answer baby.” 

Rafe was nothing if not a control freak and you liked the idea of someone else taking over. You let him be as controlling and possessive and needy as he wanted. 

“I’m waiting.” He moved his thumb, gentle circles still enough to cause spasms. You weren't sure if you were already halfway there or still having aftershocks from the night before. 

“Fuck, yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes, It feels good,” you breathed out, rewarded by him beginning to move his finger in and out, he added another, stretching you just enough. You weren’t just hypersensitive you were still sore from him last night and you could only handle so much. “You always know how to make me feel good.” 

You felt Rafe smile against your neck. There was nothing he loved more than praise. And he certainly deserved it.

-

“I’ll call you later, I promise.”

“I’m going to the club later with Topper and Kelce if you wanna come by.” He offered.   

Part of your agreement with Rafe was that you didn’t hang out in public. It was one of the first things that you had proposed when you started this casual thing, that no one could know what was going on with the two of you. Especially not considering who your friends were. If John B or any of the pogues found out that you had even looked in Rafe’s direction you would be excommunicated. Having sex with him was out of the question.  

You heard yourself say maybe instead of no and you kissed him even though you knew it wasn’t a good idea. Once you were gone Rafe laid back down, burying his head in his pillow and groaning. He seriously regretted telling you that he was falling in love with you and that he wanted this to be more than sex. But now that he had told you he couldn’t stop thinking about it. He knew why this started, because you didn’t think the guy you liked was interested in you.  

It had been a blow to the gut last night when you admitted to him that you were in love with John B. Of all the people in the Outer Banks you had chosen that smart ass pogue to be in love with. He’d kept his cool though.  

“You’re taking this a lot better than I thought you would.” You had remarked as you on his bed with him the night before.

“You can tell me how in love you are with John B but I don’t see you fucking him.”  

“Rafe-”

“It doesn’t matter alright.” Rafe had sworn that he didn’t care that you claimed you were in love with John B, you were there with him. You’d gone to the party last night to see him, not John B and when you went home it wasn’t with John B.  

But he couldn’t deny that he hated seeing you leave in the morning, knowing that you were going to find your pogue friends and pretend like nothing had ever happened between the two of you. He wanted this to be more than secret texts and meeting up at night so no one would see you together. He wanted to take you out during the day and actually show up with you at a party, not just watch you from across the room.  

You had told you were in love with John B because you had been in love with him since sixth grade. Always too chicken to tell him how you felt, you were hopelessly in love with your best friend and hated anyone that occupied his attention. It was at a party, when you saw him chatting with some touron, that you got drunk and had sex with Rafe for the first time. Now it felt like all the time and you didn’t need to think about John B smiling at some other girl to get you in Rafe’s bed. It was enough for Rafe to text you and tell you that he missed you or that he was thinking about you. And you knew what that meant but you didn’t want to think about it.

-

The vallet at the club let you through when you told him you were there to see Rafe Cameron. You’d never been to the club before though Rafe had invited you a few times. It was always meaningless because you both knew that you would never go there, that was too public. If anyone saw you with him there was no explaining to your friends what you were doing with him.  

He was outside at the golf counter with Topper and Kelce and you hung back, waiting for him to notice you watching them. When he did, he passed his club off to Kelce and walked over to you, weaving through tables and chairs. This was it, you thought as he approached you. This was it. He stopped in front of you, ready to ask what you were doing there because sure, he had invited you, but seeing you actually there was surreal. He didn’t get the chance to ask though as you kissed him. You grabbed his shirt and kissed him without warning.  

Rafe’s eyes went wide. Before he could kiss you back you were pulling away.  

“I lied.” You admitted.

You didn’t tell him that you’d gone looking for John B that afternoon when he didn’t show up to hang out like he was supposed to. That you’d seen him on the dock kissing Sarah. You had stood there on the deck staring at them kissing and realized that you felt nothing. You weren’t mad, you weren’t so upset you thought you might burst into tears like you had at that party months ago. You were completely indifferent. It felt like watching strangers kiss, it meant nothing to you and you knew why. Because you had told Rafe that you were in love with John B and you wanted casual only but you were lying.  

“Lied about what?” He asked, still feeling dazed by your actions.

“I’m not in love with John B.” You replied, the words sounding foreign to your brain. You’d dedicated so much of your life and energy to the unrequited crush you had on your best friend, “I don’t want this to just be casual.”

Rafe licked his lips and grinned. He imagined that Topper and Kelce were watching, trying to figure out what was going on. He was too far into this to care about their opinions. “You wanna get out of here?”

“Isn’t the point of me telling you I wanna be public that we...ya know, are public?”  

“Right now I just want you to myself.”

-

taglist: @maplelattes22 @poguesrforlife  @freckled-and-daydreaming  @chasefreakinstokes @millie-753 @fangirlwithme @alex12948 @howdyherron @katherine097 @tangledinsparkles @tragicmisfits @carbonated-beverage @mariofgreengables @damonsalvawhore27 @ssprayberrythings @dopedoodes @dolanfivsosxox 

[floral-and-fine]

Curious Misfortune part 1

Modern AU

Sandor Clegane x female reader

Warnings: part with guys acting like jerks/creeps

Summary: During the holiday season, the reader finds herself in a small town after she breaks up with her boyfriend.

A/n: The whole inspiration for me starting this fic is the idea of Sandor in flannel. Thank you @luna-xial​ @ewokiee and @liamakorn for the help

“Damn,” you muttered to yourself, as you passed another sign on the highway. None of the small town names looked familiar, and it was far too dark out for you to recognize any landmarks.

You clutched the wheel tightly, angry, and upset over the whole situation you found yourself in. Your damn phone didn’t get any reception out here, wherever you were, and you were hungry, tired, but mostly pissed.

In fact, you wouldn’t have been driving at all tonight on this unfamiliar highway if it hadn’t been for your now ex-boyfriend.

You had come out all this way to spend a nice Thanksgiving with his family, but when you and him arrived, his family had been nothing but rude to you. They nitpicked about everything, your outfit, your job, your education, nothing was good enough for them.

You had hoped that Jaime would’ve done something about it, stick up for you, defend you, however, he pretended not to notice. When you finally couldn’t take it any longer, and you brought it up to him, he acted like an ass and tried to convince you that you were overreacting.

God, you wanted to smack him across the face. You really were better off without him.

You groaned as you glanced at the time, you should be somewhere warm right now, eating pumpkin pie covered with whip cream, but instead, you were...lost, most likely.

Yet to be perfectly honest with yourself, you weren’t in a rush to get back home, because being there meant you’d have to face the aftermath of your failed relationship. Who would move out? Who gets to keep what? If only it could all resolve itself on its own.

You passed a sign, this one indicating that the next town was a mile away. You really ought to stop somewhere, get something to eat at least, that is if anything was still open, it was a holiday after all.

Taking the exit, it led you to a small community, a simple kind of place with small homes and just the basics. As you drove down the main road, you noted that most of the businesses including small diners and restaurants were closed.

It figured the best you could probably do now would be to get a bag of chips or something from the gas station. Just as you were about to give up your search, the blinking red light of an open sign caught your attention. The establishment was just some local bar with just a couple of beat-up old trucks parked out front.

As you got out of your car, you hoped they served food, or at least something besides peanuts, noticing that you were hungrier than you had originally thought.

Opening the door, the few patrons inside turned their heads. You could tell they weren’t used to unfamiliar faces stopping by. There were only a handful of people, a small group of guys by the pool table, a large man in a flannel shirt at the bar, and an old bartender.

You smiled shyly as they watched you walk up to the bar, finally returning to whatever they were doing before once you sat down.

You sat on a stool that was a couple of seats away from the stranger, he didn’t seem to want any company or make any small talk.

“What can I get ya?” The bartender asked, approaching you.  

“Are you still serving food?” You asked hopefully.

“Yep,” he nodded, reaching down and then handing you a menu.

“That’s the best news I’ve heard all day,” you said practically giddy. Quickly, you looked over the options and gave him your order.

As you waited for your food, your eyes wandered over to the man at the other end of the bar. He had dark brown hair and a thick beard, even with him sitting you could tell he was easily over 6’. He sat there quietly, eyes focused on the TV above as he drank his beer. There was something about his posture and intense gaze on the screen that made you feel as though he was avoiding turning his head to look at you.

As you wondered why you almost jumped out of your seat when the bartender placed a plate in front of you. You grinned looking at the spread, before picking up your fork and digging in.

Distracted by the food, you didn’t notice the man taking a quick glance in your direction. He’d never say anything out loud, but you were rather pretty and awfully sweet it seemed.

He couldn’t help but overhear you tell the bartender all about your woes. You talked about your damn ex and his stuck up family and how you had no idea where the hell you were.

Seems like your Thanksgiving was worse than his.

Just as you were about halfway through a slice of pie, the group of boys by the pool table were starting to get rowdy. They were so drunk that they were practically spilling beer on each other and the floor and yelling about stupid bullshit.

The man tsked, annoyed with their behavior, as you tried your best to ignore them and focused on finishing your pie.

“Alright fellas,” the bartender started. “I’m cutting you all off for tonight.”

“C'mon old man,” one of the guys started, most likely the leader of the group. “We’re just having some fun.”

It was obvious they were all looking for trouble, from the smirks on their faces to the way they were holding the pool cues. They slowly closed in on you and the bartender like prey.

“I ain’t gonna repeat myself,” my bartender stuttered. “Get out.”

“Why don’t you make us,“ the leader sneered looking down at the old bartender.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat as they crowded around you. Clasping your hands on top of your lap, you looked down anxious over what might unfold. The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end as one of the boys gazed at you like a piece of meat.

“Hey,” he whispered, leaning in so close, that you could feel his breath on the side of your face. “That pie looks pretty sweet,” he purred before he swiped some whipped cream off your plate and licked his finger.

You clenched your eyes shut, feeling sick to your stomach, as he then proceeded to touch your hair.

However it didn’t last long, the man at the end of the bar roughly yanked the boy away from you and practically threw him across the room, before addressing the group.

“Listen you little fucks, unless you’d like me to drag each one of ya out by your hair, you better fuck off,” he snarled.

Swallowing thickly, they scurried to exit, looking absolutely terrified.

You took a few deep breaths to calm your nerves and opened your eyes, quickly wiping away a couple of tears.

Turning around, you looked over to the stranger to thank him, but your mouth hung open for a moment as you noticed the burn scars on the side of his face. They were all over his cheek, forehead, and part of his jaw.

Immediately, he turned away, taking his wallet from his back pocket and leaving some cash on the counter.

The bartender shook his head, grabbing the money and handing it back to the man, “Keep it, Sandor, it’s the least I can do.”

“It was nothing,” Sandor replied, heading towards the door.

Quickly, you got up from your seat and made your way over to him, you couldn’t let him leave without thanking him properly.

Gently you reached out grabbing his hand to stop him. “Thank you,” you said, giving his hand a light squeeze.

He glanced down at you, keeping the scarred side of his turned away from you. “Don’t worry about it.”

You shook your head and smiled up at him, “I was really freaked out, I’m glad you intervened.”

Sandor flushed a little under your gaze, making you smile more. He really seemed like a sweet man underneath it all, maybe a little rough around the edges, but still sweet.

Standing on your tiptoes, you kissed his cheek. “Good night.”

“Night,” he mumbled, the blush on his cheeks had now spread to his ears.

He shoved his hands in his pockets and took out his keys, giving you a nod before pushing the door open. Sandor paused letting out an exasperated sigh when he saw the condition of your car outside.

“Those fucking cunts,” he muttered under his breath. They had smashed the windshields, busted the headlights, and slashed all the tires.

“Girl,” he started, turning back around and looking at you.

“Yes?”

He rubbed the back of his head, “looks like you won’t be getting anywhere tonight.”

“What?” You squeezed past Sandor to get a good look. Your eyes went wide over the state of your car. This fucking day had to have been the worst one in your entire life. Not being able to hold back any longer, you started to cry.

Sandor stood there awkwardly, watching as sobbed into your hands.

It was getting late now, almost midnight, the bar would be closing soon, and he already knew none of the local mechanics were open.

“C’mon, I’ll give you a ride,” he said, placing a large hand on the small of your back. “We’ll get this all figured out in the morning.”

You peeked up at him, lowering your hands slightly. “What?” You hiccuped.

“You can stay at a motel for the night,” he explained. Sandor wouldn’t blame you if you said no, figured you might be cautious accepting a ride from him, but the least he could do was offer. He wasn’t sure what other options you had.

Wiping your tears with the back of your hand, you nodded, “Alright, thank you.”

“My trucks this way,” he said, guiding you towards it with his hand still on your back.

“Oh,” you perked up. “I need to grab my bag.”

You grimaced looking at the state of your car up close. Those jerks, hopefully, your insurance would cover the damage.

Popping open the trunk, your face fell when you found it empty. In your rush to leave that dreadful house, you must have left your luggage with your ex and his horrible family.

“Fuck,” you huffed, startling Sandor.

He watched in amusement as you stomped around yelling, cursing up a storm, and waving your arms around. You even kicked your car a few times.

Finally, getting it all out of your system, your attention turned to him. “Could we please stop at a convenience store or something on the way,” you said in a defeated voice.

“Get in the truck,” he nodded, opening the passenger side door.

The drive was a quiet one, giving you a chance to admire the small town’s charm. Besides the assholes from the bar, it seemed like a decent place. You were fortunate that Sandor was around to help you, who knows how this night may have unfolded without him.

“Sandor,” you started, curiosity getting the best of you. “Why aren’t you with your family for Thanksgiving?”

His eyes stayed focused on the road ahead as he answered you dryly. “Don’t really have one. I’ve got a brother but I’d rather eat shit than spend a minute with him.”

“I see,” you muttered. “I’m not close to mine either.”

He pulled up in front of a small store, the sign indicating it was 24 hours.

You were pleasantly surprised that Sandor joined you inside to shop, he followed behind you as you browsed, his hands tucked into his pockets as shuffled along. You told him that he could’ve waited in the truck, but he shook his head, muttering that it was fine.

It didn't take long, you only needed a few things to get you through until tomorrow, toothbrush, toothpaste, deodorant.

You placed the shopping basket on the counter, the cashier gave you a polite smile, but it faded when she noticed Sandor standing beside you. She intentionally avoided making any eye contact with him.

Before you could get your wallet out from your purse, Sandor had already handed the cashier some cash. Before you could protest, he grabbed the plastic bags and headed for the exit.

“I appreciate it, but you didn’t have to do that,” you said, once both of you were back in the truck.

“Don’t worry about it, you’ve had a rough day,” Sandor interjected.

As he drove, you took a moment to admire him like you had done back at the bar. He was an intense person to be around, but what caught you off guard the most was his thoughtful and considerate behavior.

Arriving at the motel, Sandor sighed, “I know it doesn’t look like the nicest place, but the staff are decent people.”

You smiled, “Thank you again, tonight probably would’ve been a lot worse without you.”

As you were climbing out of the truck, Sandor stopped you.

“Here,” he grabbed something from the back and thrust it at you. “You can wear that instead of having to sleep in your dress.”

You looked at the flannel shirt in your hands, your eyes crinkling as you grinned, “Good night, Sandor.”

He nodded, “I’ll be back in the morning.”

He watched from the truck as you went into the lobby, wanting to be sure everything was alright before putting the truck in reverse and leaving.

[coveredinsweetpea]

me and you [ross butler imagine]

A/n: This is cheesy don't mind me. I finally have time to write again and I'll probably be here A LOT so hmu! Let's talk, tell me what you thought!

Summary: Ross comforts you after you receive online hate due to the age gap in your relationship (requested)

"What're you doing over there?" Ross asked, mindlessly walking through the living room. He didn't get you a chance to answer before he walked into the kitchen, only to pop his head back into the room and call for you again, "Babe?" "Hm?" you mumbled, tilting your head in his direction, even if your eyes never actually left the screen of your laptop. "What are you reading?" he questioned, now leaning against the wall, eyes trained on you. "I wanna cook something" you said softly, your attention divided between your boyfriend and the recipes displayed in front of you. "Why?" Ross laughed. "Stop" you scoffed, amused, "Our cheat day turned into a cheat month, and I'm really in the mood for something home cooked and healthy." Still unconvinced about your motives, he reluctantly accepted to help you choose a dish. Eventually, you settled for some fancy stake with brown rice. About half an hour later you were both in the kitchen, laughing your asses off. It all started with Ross trying to fake an Italian accent as he read the instructions for the sauce, and it ended with him posting three different videos of you two to his Instagram story. In the first one, he wasn't completely prepared, and his shyness came to light. His cheeks bright red and the room filled with his nervous laughter - it was definitely your favorite of the three. In the second one, he had gotten a little bit more in character, and he may or may not have done an adorably sweet impression of The Godfather. "He's Italian, right?" Ross laughed over your shoulder, as you watched the videos on his story.

"Yes, he is, babe" you laughed, leaning your head back, "Or was" "Did he die?" he asked, genuine curiosity visible in his eyes. "Haven't you seen the movie?" "Nope" "Well, then I'm not gonna tell you!" you exclaimed, turning around. You discarded his phone, carefully placing it on the counter. Your hands met behind his neck, your fingers intertwining. Ross looked down at you with a smile that was hard to read, but it warmed you up nonetheless. "Tell me" he begged, grabbing your waist and pulling your body flush against his, "I wanna know" "What kind of an asshole girlfriend would I be if I spoiled one of the best movies ever made for you?" Ross cocked his head to the side, and pursed his lips, "Pretty sure you'd still be the best girlfriend...." "Sweet talking won't get you anywhere, babe" you giggled, pulling yourself up on your tip toes. He met you halfway, leaning down to press his lips to yours. It was really sweet at the beginning, even though he tasted like the garlic he swore he didn't steal from your plate. But you didn't really care. The taste faded away quite rapidly, and soon, you were already clinging to his chest, your body asking for more. His tongue pushed past your lips and you welcomed him with no intention to hold back. Much to your dismay, things didn't go any further. At least not until you feasted on the food you worked so hard to make. This was probably one of the most relaxing nights you've had in ages, and were beyond thankful for it. For the past few months, your schedules had been hectic, but you just enjoyed a night in, and in the morning you were ready to head out for breakfast. You and Ross were supposed to meet your parents at a café nearby. Despite the short distance, you two were again running late. You ended up brushing your teeth at the same time, bumping shoulders and playfully bickering until you were actually too late for your own good. Ross had to physically drag you away from your make up table, "Babe, it's just our parents, they won't care when color your eyelids are" "Oh my god" you laughed, and hurried to apply the last touches of mascara, before he wrapped an arm around your middle and pulled you to your feet. "Ok! I'm done, I'm done, let's go!" Giggling, your sprinted to the hallway, hurrying to slip your shoes on. "Where the fuck is my wallet!?" you heard Ross's muffled voice echo through the apartment. "Jeans?" "Which ones?" he yelled back. "Jesus-" you laughed, rolling your eyes, "I have mine, leave it" "What if I need my ID?" Ross asked, finally coming back into your line of sight, eyes all mopey and shoulders all slumped. "What are they gonna do?" you taunted, "Assume you're not old enough to have alcohol for breakfast" "Good, point" he shook his head, and started putting his shoes on. To be fair, this was what most of your days were like, and you loved it. There was a specific air of comfort and acceptance between the two of you that you never had with anyone else. The safety he provided and the love he had for you, were the only things you needed to keep going. About 30 minutes later, you and Ross were seated on a small terrace, across from your parents. It was their idea for all of you to go out today, considering the last season of 13 Reasons Why just dropped, and even if was just a croissant and a cup of tea, it called for celebration. "I've only ever been once to the set" his mother shook her head, sipping on her smoothie, "And I feel like I'm gonna miss everything about it" "I know what you mean!" you smiled, "I've gotten the chance to meet most of the cast and they're all such amazing people!" "They love you, you know?" Ross grinned, elbowing you in the side. "Oh god" you giggled, feeling your cheeks catch a new shade of pink. "It's true" he shook his head, looking at everyone around the table in turn. A devilish smirk popped up on his lips, "Apparently we're perfect together, or something?" Everyone at the table ended up shaking their heads and chuckling at Ross's attempt to make a joke, and it only warmed your heart. Unconsciously, you leaned into him, and cuddled against his side, ignoring the looks yours and his mother gave you as he turned and kissed the top of your head. "We get it" your dad playfully scoffed, "You're young and happy and all that crap. But where are my grandkids?" Although he didn't really have a very exquisite sense of humor, you all laughed, some out of amusement, some out of nervousness. You're sure the parents didn't take it seriously, but the thought of a little Ross running around your apartment brought a ridiculous smile to your lips. The breakfast date didn't last much longer after that. About 30 minutes later, you were in the passenger seat of your car, as Ross drove the two of you home. Out of habit, you pulled out your phone, your thumb mindlessly tapping the Instagram icon. That was when you saw the amount of tags and mentions you had. Thousands of them. Your stomach filled with dread in an instant. This was never good. And even so, you still always checked what people had to say. You were not a celebrity, having people talk about you still made your skin crawl. When the comments were good, you'd just get a rush of anxiety that you started to manage better and better over the last few months, but when the comments are bad, it feels like your lungs are on the edge of collapse. And that was the case now. You only got a chance to read a few comments, all of them, without exception, picking at the age gap between the two of you. Your eyes watered instantly, forcing you to lock your phone and turn your head towards the window. "Hey, baby girl" Ross called lovingly, placing his hand of your thigh, "You good?" You just nodded. "Tell me, love" he pushed, squeezing your leg, "Come on" "I'm fine" "Obviously you're not, angel" "I'm good" you repeated yourself, and forced a fake smile. You did your best but it wasn't enough to fool him. However, he did drop the topic. The rest of the car ride was spent in perfect silence. But once you got inside, you felt him eager to pick the topic back up. So, you did the only thing that you felt was able to help you dodge the situation, and excused yourself, claiming you needed a shower after spending so much time in the sun. It would have been a great lie, but it was 11am on a cloudy July morning, you all had breakfast under a big umbrella that kept you cool in its shadow, and the AC in the car kept the unwanted high temperatures away from you. As you jumped into the shower, you hoped Ross wouldn't look too much into it. As the water poured down your body, you let your mind wonder. It was not a wise choice. If his fans managed to only find flaws about you and bring them forward, you had the upper hand - you knew yourself, and knew all the other flaws you had, the ones they couldn't pick apart. But you could. And that was what you did. For at least an hour, you soaked yourself in hot water, feeding all the negative thoughts that consumed you. When you finally decided to get out of the shower, you were by no means in a better mental state, but you didn't want to let Ross see that. Even though you had some specific opinions about yourself, you felt like opening up about them only made you a victim. So you decided against it. You got dressed up, put on one of your own shirts instead of his', something you never did inside the house, and then walked in the living room. Although you felt like ignoring him, you knew that would only raise suspicions. "What're you up to?" you asked, as you stopped right before you headed into the kitchen. Ross hadn't heard you come in, and only looked up when your voice reached his ears. "I was productive" he grinned, standing up from the couch. "Oh, what did you do?" He laughed, and walked over, "Literally nothing" Quite impossible for you to understand how his little dumb lines like these, could always make you loosen up. Of course, he noticed your faint smile hid a lot, so he leaned down to kiss your forehead and placed his fingers under your chin to get you to look up at him, "I'm not gonna ask what you were mad about earlier, because I know" "Ross-" you tried to excuse yourself, and pull away from his hold, but he was by no means having it. "You know you're my whole fucking world, ok?" he said softly, his breath fanning over your skin, "I'm the only one that gets to decide who's good for me. Falling in love with you is only up to me. Not them, ok?" "I know..." you sighed, your insecurities overwhelming you again. "But?" he nudged you, obviously aware of how much you were holding back. "But what if you're wrong?" "What do you mean, wrong?" Ross questioned, his eyebrows furrowed. "What if you only think I'm good for you? What if they're right, and you just can't see it?" He sighed, obviously deeply hurt by the lack of trust and confidence you showed, "They're not right, I'm 100% sure. But even if they were, I'd have to see for myself, wouldn't I?" "Even if what they're saying is more rational?" you asked, voice all choked up by the lump in  your throat. "I'm not gonna listen to anyone talk shit about the woman I love" he explained, "I really do see myself living the rest of my life by your side, what's a stranger gonna do? Convince me otherwise? Right now, in my life, you come first. Anyone could come and tell me anything they wanted, and still, it wouldn't change the way I feel about you. My opinion on you is based on what I know, on who you are, and you're the only one that could ever change it" His words managed to get to you, and although your knees were weak, you were still not quite there yet. "What if that's what's gonna happen? More time will pass and you'll see I'm not right for you" "That's how relationships work, love" Ross shook his head, "And it certainly does not have anything to do with you being younger than me." Too many things were coming at you at once. He made a good point, but your mind was already drunk on all the possibilities, and on all the things that could go wrong. Accepting that he might actually be right, and acknowledging the fact that in your current state, you couldn't possibly think straight, you hoped he'd understand you when you ask to continue this conversation later in the day. "We can talk about this whenever you want, baby girl" he said, and unlike before, now he sounded defeated. As if he realized he did not manage to et his point across, and that you were still down. If you had your eyes open, you would've probably noticed hurt in his expression when he failed to lift your spirits, but your vision was clouded and all you did was leave the room without a single word. What was hard now, was the fact that deep down, a part of you knew he was right, and that he made a legitimately fair point, and that of all things, breaking up was the last thing you wanted. But you backed out of situation like these before, and all you did in the end was regret your choices. Regret the fact you didn't fight and didn't believe the person next to you, who spent their days proving just how much you mean to them. Exhausted and in need of a break, you opened up your phone to call your best friend. When the screen lit up, your Instagram feed popped up, refreshing as it hasn't been used in hours. Out of habit, you allowed the posts to load, and thank god you did.

Words could not describe the storm of emotions taking place inside your belly. You knew Ross, knew he would never lie, deceive or manipulate, and the fact that he posted that for his 8.5M followers to see, had to mean something. And when you checked the time, you saw that the picture was posted while you were still in the shower, before that little conversation you tow had. As cliché as it sounds, it really did it for you. Him standing up for you in front of his own fans, meant everything in that moment. You only realized you stormed into the living room when you were already slumping down into the couch, grabbing Ross's hand into your own. "Thank you" was all that came out of your mouth, despite the monstrous battle of thoughts that was going on inside your head. "For what, baby?" he asked, voice all soft and loving as he leaned his head to the side. "I saw the post and I wanted to th-" "Don't thank me for that, ok?" he cut you off, his free hand coming up to guide your chin. He searched for you with his stare, and only continued to talk after your eyes met his, "I didn't do it because I thought that was what you wanted. I felt like doing it. I did it for you, because you're my girl, and I hate seeing you down. And I did it for me too, because there is no chance in hell I'm ever allowing anyone to poke into our private business like that" As stray tears roamed down your cheeks, a small giggle came out too, "I feel kinda stupid, you know?" you snorted, "I don't know why I needed to hear you say this to everyone. It should have been enough that you said it to me. I'm sorry" His eyes softened even more as he opened his arms. You crawled over, and rested against his chest. In this position, where we felt the safest in the world, you started to wonder how on earth you even doubted him. "Listen to me-" Ross said sweetly but with an affirming tone. "Fears and insecurities? We're working through them. Together. Whatever it is, I got you. You're my world, Y/n, the love of my life, I really want the best for you. I have a lot to learn, but I really wanna make you the happiest. I am always here for you, and always will be, ok? I really need to know you know that" "You're an angel" you nodded, cuddling deeper into his chest, "I love you" "You're the angel" Ross laughed, playing with your hair, "And no more hiding, ok? It's me and you, that's it" "Me and you"

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Omertà👄12

Warnings: noncon sexual acts; tags to be added throughout series

This is dark!Bucky and dark! Loki and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your father was a bookie and taught you everything you know about numbers. After his death, you were taken on as a bookkeeper for Loki Laufeyson, resident crime boss in Manhattan. But can you keep your place in the background when a man from Brooklyn threatens to drag you to the forefront?

Note: Chapter 12!? I didn’t think I could get through it but I did. God, these men are driving me mad.

Hope you enjoy it. Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

Your meeting ended. At last. Bucky’s hand kept straying to your knee and each time you scraped your chair away, he inched closer. You ignored him for the ledger but he didn’t relent until you had thoroughly reviewed every digit.

You stood and Bucky did too. Steve yawned as he pushed himself from the stiff armchair and adjusted the belt of his pants. You collected the ledger and your purse. You flitted to the door as the latter neared and whispered to Bucky. They laughed and you hurried through the open door.

“I’m sure Loki has a lot to figure out and we’ll be on our way back soon enough. It’s a long ride.” 

You went to the next door but were stopped by a hand on your arm. Bucky turned you to face him.

“Doesn’t sound like a fun ride, though,” He winked and you wriggled away from him. “I need a word with the boss before you head out.”

He reached past you and turned the handle. You almost tripped as you moved out of his way and he entered without pause. You spun and followed him, barely slipping between him and Steve as the henchman kept close behind. Loki’s voice died and he stood from his desk as he hung up his phone.

“Hello?” He greeted tersely.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Bucky tucked a hand in his pants pocket. “We just finished up and I didn’t want to waste any more of your time. I know you’ll be heading out soon and all that.”

���Hmm?” Loki lifted a brow dryly and straightened his jacket.

“Me and Steve are gonna stay and keep cleaning up around this place. My crew will be here tomorrow to start clearing out most of it.” Bucky pulled his hand from his pocket, a black rectangle in his hand. “I think it might be easier if you packed a bag… stayed in town tomorrow.”

Loki stared as Bucky offered one of the tiny black folders. Bucky shrugged and neared to tuck it in Loki’s front pocket before he patted it. He then turned to you and handed you the other.

“The rooms are all taken care of for the month,” He explained as you carefully opened the small black folder to reveal a key card. “I just figured it would save you time and gas. You’re no doubt antsy to be out of here as soon as you can.”

Loki sighed as his tongue poked his upper lip. He rubbed his long nose and glanced at you.

“I suppose you’re right,” He ceded. “Your hospitality is admirable… and appreciated.”

“Not at all,” Bucky gave a crooked grin. “We should really start working together, don’t you think? This place could be a goldmine with the two of us in charge.”

Loki squinted. “Certainly.”

“Well, don’t let me keep you any longer,” Bucky backed away to the door as Steve hovered on the other side of the frame. “I’d be all too happy to go back to the city…” He paused and peeked over at you. “And unwind.”

“Hmm,” Loki checked his watch. “Yes.”

Bucky tapped the door frame before he left. You let out a long breath and rested the ledger against your hip.

“How was the meeting?” Loki asked as their footsteps faded away.

“A meeting. You’re not going to like the numbers.” You warned.

“I’m not so worried about those,” Loki’s eyes lingered in the doorway. “Did he… do anything?”

“Nothing unusual. Boasting, mostly.” You replied.

“And you? What did you do?” He challenged.

“My job,” You hissed.

“Your job,” He mused as he strode closer. “Always so diligent. Well, let me tell you what your job will be tonight. You will have thirty minutes to pack for tomorrow’s return and then you will come to mine and help me pack.” He preened and smirked down at you. “And then we will ‘unwind’ as he so eloquently put it.”

You blinked as your cheek twitched. You nodded and turned away from him. You looked down at the little folder in your hand. You should be thankful that Bucky got you your own room but you suspected it was more for his good than yours. And a plastic card wouldn’t keep either of them away from you.

👄

Your night went as expected. Loki was angry and didn’t withhold his temper. The prospect of a new venture with Bucky embittered his already caustic demeanour. And the thought of a whole month in Atlantic City with the man barely helped. Either of you. 

You dreaded whatever ploy this was as you slumped in the car seat and Loki drove. The occasional grumble of displeasure wisped from his lips. Thor was to meet him at the casino later that day. Lopez would oversee the antique store as the rest of Loki’s business was overseen by a man called Heimdall who had flown overnight from London to do the older brother a favour.

You pulled up to the casino before noon and yawned. You grabbed your leather tote, the ledger stuffed inside, and followed Loki across the pavement. The doors were propped open and men in dusty jeans and canvas overalls passed in and out. The days work was already underway and you doubted it would be done before sundown.

You heard a familiar voice booming from inside. As you entered, you were stunned as the now bare windows lit the immense space of the foyer. You shield your eyes as a particular slat of sunshine made you teary. A figure approached from your left as Bucky ceased his demands and appeared before you and Loki.

“You made good time,” Bucky clapped Loki’s shoulder. “I hope you had a restful night.”

“Mmm,” Loki rolled his eyes and peered around. 

“Your contractor is around here somewhere,” Bucky looked at the men as they went about their work. “I think he was having a look at the east staircase.”

“Darby?” Loki uttered. “Well, he should be able to take care of himself well enough.”

“Better roll up those sleeves,” Bucky nudged him as he turned to stand beside him. He admired the storm around him. “We’re all hands on deck today… except you, sweetheart. We got you a nice little space upstairs where you won’t be disturbed.”

He looked around Loki and winked. Loki’s lips curled and he shook his head.

“I can help too,” You insisted. “No sense in sitting around while you all--”

“In those heels. In that dress,” Bucky scoffed. “These men don’t need a distraction.”

“Excuse me--”

“Anyways, there is one thing you need to do,” Bucky continued on as Loki’s hand strayed to your lower back and he stepped closer to you. “You’ll need a desk. There was one up there but uh, not very stable. We trashed it last night.”

“A desk?” You crossed your arms. “I can make do with a table. Or my lap.”

“Nah,” He waved away your protest then signaled across the foyer. “I’ll have Steve take you around. The office is all cleaned up for ya, just needs a lady’s touch so while you’re out, grab whatever else you need.”

“This is really not--”

“It’s almost noon,” Bucky announced as Steve approached. “More than enough time for you two.” He looked to his henchman and grinned. “You good to take her now?”

Steve dusted off his palms and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. His shirt sleeves were pushed halfway up his forearms and a tail had come untucked.

“Let me just find my jacket,” Steve winked at you. “I’ll take good care of her.”

“Take care of the desk,” Bucky jabbed Steve’s chest. “Oh, and don’t forget a chair. Can’t have her sitting on a stack of rubble.”

“Course, boss,” Steve smirked. “Think I can handle a shopping trip.”

“Think you can?” Bucky mocked as he turned back to Loki. “Right, we should go find this Darby guy.”

“In a moment,” Loki frowned. “I just need a word with my bookkeeper.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll cover the desk and the like,” Bucky assured as Loki began to usher you aside.

“It’s not a worry,” Loki sneered. “We do have other business.”

Loki grabbed your upper arm and your heels scuffed across the floor as he urged you away from the two men. His jaw ticked as he glanced out the double doors.

“I hope Thor arrives soon. Always late.” He muttered before he cleared his throat. “Darling, you behave.” He felt around and reached into his jacket. He flipped out his wallet and plucked a black card from its folds. “Spend what you must. I’ll not have this man acting benefactor.”

“Um, okay,” You took the card hesitantly. “Loki, I--”

“I am not stupid. I see what he is doing. Him and that drone of his,” Loki growled. “Keep your eye on that oaf.”

You covered the card with your hand and chewed your lip. It would’ve been funny to see Loki so perturbed in any other circumstance, but you suspected you were as much the butt of the joke as him.

👄

If you thought the car ride with Loki the day before was awkward, the one with Steve was grueling and suffocating. You sat in the passenger seat of the flashy sports car and picked at the leather along the door handle. His hand rested on the stick even when he wasn’t changing gears, his fingers tapped on the bulbous head as you felt him peeking at you in the rear view.

“You know,” He finally broke the silence which had thickened after he asked where he was going and you shrugged. “Every time I see you, I just can’t help but think of that day.”

You crossed your arms and went rigid in the seat. You bit the inside of your lip and glared out the window without a word.

“I’m sure you’re wondering which one? The club or the shop?” Steve taunted. “And I really can’t decide if I prefer your ass or your mouth.”

“Would you shut up?” You spat as you finally looked at him.

“I’m sorry, I just can’t ignore this tension between us.”

“Oh, do you mean the sheer hatred or the pure revulsion?” You challenged.

“Don’t act all innocent, honey,” He pushed his shoulders back as he steered with one arm and his other hand gripped the stick. “We both know what-- who you did.”

“The worst thing about you men is you don’t seem to understand the concept of silence,” You hissed. “Or many things, to be fair.”

He pulled into a lot and snarled. He pulled into a spot and the car jolted to a stop. He put the car in park and looked at you.

“Actually, I can think of several ways to keep you quiet,” He snickered. “One I already know to be effective.”

Your nostrils flared and you glanced past him to the plaza. You swallowed and reached for your door handle. He hit the locks and the door clicked loudly. You fell back against your seat and crossed your arms.

“Steve,” You huffed. “We’re here to find a desk.”

“We got time.”

“No,” You pressed yourself to the door and avoided looking at him. “Just let me out.”

He killed the engine and the keys jangled loudly before they were muffled behind fabric. His large hand stretched over your thigh and he rubbed you through your skirt. You drew away and crossed your leg over the other. 

His fingers crept up to the waist of your skirt and he picked at it cloyingly. He leaned across the middle of the car and his warm breath singed your cheek.

“Well, come on then,” The doors unlocked loudly. “Let’s go find that desk.”

👄

The furniture store was almost maze-like. The imported furniture was set out in winding pathways and arranged in carefully plotted scenes. Each piece was unique and every single one was expensive. Steve followed closely as you strolled along, pausing to look closer at a mother of pearl vase or a novelty pen cup.

The selection had yet to intrigue you. It didn’t matter anyway. You didn’t really care what your desk looked like. When all was said and done, you’d be back in New York at the tiny one nestled in the back of The Attic. 

You stopped before a display with a zebra print rug rolled out beneath a marbled black desk. The golden legs spiraled up to support the thick top and an array of paperweights and stationary was laid out across it.

You hated it but you didn’t mind the chair behind it. The dark suede looked comfortable; a lush purple cushiony hug. You stepped closer and picked up the golden pen propped up in an empty inkwell. You twirled it and tilted your head at the bookshelves on either side of the display. Those would actually be useful.

As you set the pen back, you sensed something behind you. Steve’s hands brushed along your waist as he pressed himself against you. He gripped your shoulders and inhaled the scent of your hair.

“This would be nice,” He remarked. “Sturdy.”

He reached down with one hand and touched the desktop.

“Just bend you over a little,” He pushed on your shoulder and you caught yourself against the desk. Your arms trembled as he tried to force you down. He rubbed his crotch against you. “Or maybe you could crawl underneath and--”

“Steve, what the fuck?” You struggled against him. “Someone will see.”

“So,” His hand left the desk and ran over your stomach. “Not our problem.”

“Stop,” You caught his hand before he reached your chest. “I mean it. I doubt Bucky--” You turned with effort and shoved him away. He barely flinched. “Sent you to fondle me.”

“You don’t think so?” He grinned.

“What the fuck does that mean?” You felt behind you and grabbed the pen from the inkwell, tipping the little golden cube over.

“It means I can do whatever I want and the boss will pat me on the back,” He stepped closer.

“You do,” You brought the pen around and pointed the sharp nib at his throat. “And I’ll make sure you never touch anyone again.”

He blinked then tilted his head. His eyes drifted down to the pen and he chuckled. He raised his hands and backed away.

“You’re cute,” He said as he tucked his hands in his pockets. “Come on, let’s find you a fucking desk.”

[emmy-writes-sometimes]

Work It Out

After a drunken fight with your dad, Sebastian, you go to your uncle’s house where he forces the two of you to work it out.

-

           “Jesus, babe, just…” Your boyfriend was doing his best to get you back into your bedroom from the fire escape outside your window, but he wasn’t doing enough. You were so drunk that you could barely swing your leg over. You just wanted to sleep. But your boyfriend had to sneak you back in because it was him who snuck you out.

           “I’m tryingggg,” you slurred. He laughed and physically picked you up, carrying you through the window. He set food on the ground and put you back down, helping to steady you. “Well, my dad isn’t here. Maybe he didn’t find out.”

           “Really, Y/n? Think again.” Your father’s voice was cross as he sat in your desk chair, arms crossed against his chest.

           “Oh, fantastic,” you said. That was probably the clearest sentence you’d said in a while. You were drunk enough that consequences didn’t seem that bad, but you were also drunk enough to smart off to him when you normally never would.

           “Alex, I called you an Uber. It should be downstairs. Text Y/n and I’ll know you got home safe. And use the front door, not the fire escape.” Your boyfriend’s cheeks flushed and he let you go.

           “Sure. Sorry, Mr. Stan.” Your dad’s eyes softened a little bit.

           “Thank you for making sure my girl got home. But next time she decides to try and sneak out of the house, don’t help her.”

           “Roger that.” Your boyfriend walked out of your room and you soon heard the front door shut, leaving you and your dad. You sat down on your bed while all of that was going on, removing your high heels, and you un-zipped the back of your dress. You grabbed a t-shirt from your dresser and pulled it on, then took your dress off to reveal the shorts you had on underneath. You knew there was a fight coming, but you wished it could wait until tomorrow.

           “What were you even thinking, Y/n?” Your dad asked you. His voice was quiet. His fingers rubbed at his temples and you realized you must have woken him up. He had a flight at 9 the next morning, so he should have been asleep already. It was only 11, but it felt so much later now that you were completely and totally intoxicated.

           “I was thinking I got invited out to a party and I wanted to go?” You said, curling up in a blanket you kept folded at the foot of your bed. Your dad kept the house absolutely freezing cold, and for what reason you would never know. Your dad sighed.

           “I don’t even know what to do here. First you sneak out, when you could’ve just asked me. Then you have the audacity to sneak back in and think I won’t catch you when you’re drunk as hell. Which, by the way, when did you start drinking, because I must have missed that too.” His voice rose and fell and you could just hear how angry he was with you. Even drunk you felt guilty. Sober you would have felt so guilty you could cry yourself to sleep.

           “I’m sorry, Dad,” you responded.

           “Sorry’s not good enough. Do you know how dangerous it is to be out there at night?”

           “Dad, we live on the Upper East Side. If Blair Waldorf didn’t get kidnapped and raped I won’t.” Your dad scoffed at the mention of your favorite show, one he happened to have been in.

           “And that’s besides the point. What you did was so dangerous, Y/n. If you called me, I would’ve picked you up, because what agreement do we have?”

           “If I ever need you, you’re there. No questions asked.”

           “And this would’ve counted. I would’ve come to get you in a heartbeat, but you can’t just sneak out like that. It’s one thing if we’re in Atlanta or California, it’s a whole other thing in Manhattan.” Your vision became clearer and clearer as you started sobering up, but everything your dad was saying fell on deaf ears. You weren’t listening because you were so exhausted.

           “I’m sorry, Daddy.”

           “Oh, don’t do that, I know you’re not sorry,” he rolled his eyes. You never called him Daddy unless you wanted something or you wanted him off your back, and this was one of the latter.

           “I am!” You replied.

           “No, you’re not. Otherwise you wouldn’t have done something so stupid in the first place. I’m so disappointed in you, Y/n. This is why we have rules in place, this is why we have the no questions asked agreement. I’m half tempted to cancel my flight and stay here because you obviously can’t be left on your own for a night.”

           “I promise, I won’t do anything stupid.” If he thought you were serious, he didn’t care.

           “I don’t know if I can believe you.” You suddenly had that feeling in your stomach, and you stood up. “Where do you think you’re going?”

           “To throw up two water bottles of Malibu,” you responded dryly, walking into the bathroom attached to your bedroom. You barely made it to the toilet before you threw up. Instead of holding your hair back, your dad chose the route of going to get you some water.

           “Jesus Christ, babe. This is so unlike you.” You shrugged and picked your head up, thinking you were done for the time being.

           “I know. I’m stupid. I know,” you repeated over and over, accepting the water that he gave you.

           “Alright. Here’s what we’re gonna do. You’re gonna go to bed, I’m going to think about a punishment, and you’re going to take it when you wake up tomorrow at approximately 6 AM to drive me to the airport at 6:30. Got it?” You gave him a thumbs up. “I didn’t raise you to be like this.”

           “You barely even raised me at all,” you snapped back without even meaning to. “You’re always gone, remember?”

           “So you’re saying this is all my fault?”

           “Yeah, buddy!” You replied with a small giggle. “You’re on the right track now.” If you had looked at him, you would have seen the tears in his eyes. Was it really his fault? Was he really so absent from your life that he caused you to act out the first chance you got? He sighed, deciding just to leave you alone.

           “Alright. Just… We’ll talk tomorrow morning.” He slumped out of your room, feeling dejected, angry, and upset as hell because he’d never even thought it could be his fault before. But you pointed out the obvious; if he wasn’t gone all the time, maybe you wouldn’t feel the need to get his attention like this.

           Something inside of you just said fuck it. You were sober enough to walk to the other side of your room, change clothes, and grab your phone charger and wallet. You looked at your phone map for a minute – your uncle Chris was in town, at least for a few days, and he was supposed to take you out to lunch tomorrow anyway.

           Are you up? You texted him. He responded within a second that he was. So it was decided. You had never closed the fire escape window, so you could go back out the way you came in. Your wallet had pepper spray attached to it and you flicked it open, ready to spray anyone who dared mess with you at this time of night. Thankfully, most people in that area of New York just minded their own business unless you looked like you had something valuable. But you, barely sixteen, in a sweatshirt and shorts, carrying a wallet and pepper spray at 11 PM, didn’t look like you had anything of value to yourself even.

           You were halfway to Chris’s hotel when you passed the block with the police precinct, and as if it was on cue, blue and white lights lit up the street. You looked around – you were the only person on the street, so they must have been referring to you. You sighed.

           “I’m sorry, Dad,” you said out loud, rubbing your eyelid as a piece of mascara found its way into your eye. An officer got out of the cruiser and walked over to you with a flashlight.

           “Ma’am, can I ask you what you’re doing on the streets at this time of night?” You sighed. Were you about to lie to the NYPD because you didn’t want to go home? Yes, yes you were. This entire night was dumb, but this was probably the dumbest thing you could’ve done.

           “I was at a friend’s apartment, I’m just going back to my uncle’s hotel,” you explained. “I have pepper spray.” The officer scoffed.

           “It’s not safe for you to be walking around here. Where are you from?”

           “I’m from here, but I live half the time in Atlanta.” You weren’t lying completely there – you did have a Georgia driver’s license, your primary address was all listed in Georgia because that was where you went to middle school because your dad was still working for Marvel at that point.

           “And you’re with your uncle, you said?”

           “Yeah, my parents are divorced.” A lie. Your parents weren’t divorced because they’d never been together. You were the product of a meaningless relationship that your dad spent your entire life trying to make up to you.

           “Alright. Well, we can’t have you walking the streets out here at night, so would you like us to go ahead and bring you back to your uncle’s? How old are you, sixteen?”

           “Sixteen,” you responded. “I can call my uncle now.”

           “You can just get into the back seat of that car.” You nodded and started heading toward the cop car, calling Chris. He answered immediately.

           “Hey, sweetie, what are you doing up?” He asked you. You could tell he was up still – he was always a night owl.

           “I was walking to yours and the police caught me. Can they drive me over?”

           “Yeah, sure. I’ll meet you in the lobby. It seems like you have something to talk about, don’t you?”

           “Yeah. I’m sorry.” You opened the door to the car and got inside.

           “It’s okay. I’ll see you in a few.” You told the cop the address of Chris’s hotel, checking your phone to make sure your dad hadn’t called you or texted you. Nothing. He probably didn’t even know you were gone. That was the con of living on separate floors in an old brownstone – if you left he might not even know. Half the time you just yelled out to figure out if he was there because you couldn’t tell otherwise.

           “I’ll get out and walk you in,” the officer said when you arrived at the hotel. You saw Chris standing in the brightly lit lobby, looking down at his phone, and raised his hand when he saw you.

           “Thank you, officer, for getting her back to me,” Chris said, shaking hands with the cop that had brought you over. They chatted for a minute when the officer recognized him, but they let you go without even asking for any kind of proof of anything whatsoever. As soon as the officer got in the car and left, Chris nearly dragged you over to the elevator.

           “Ow,” you groaned. You knew you were sobering up, but your body still felt loose.

           “What are you doing here? Your dad doesn’t leave until tomorrow morning.”

           “We got in a fight because I got drunk and he said some stuff and I said some stuff that I don’t remember, but it must have been really mean.” Chris sighed, pressing the elevator up, and when you got to the room you sat down in one of the chairs. It was a nice hotel, one he usually stayed at, so you were at least familiar with it.

           “You want some coffee?” He asked you, turning on the hotel’s small instant coffee maker. You nodded, running your hands through your hair. Your phone lit up with a call from your dad, and you didn’t answer. You didn’t know why you didn’t answer; because you were scared of him, because you didn’t want to talk to him, or maybe a combination of both. You just wanted to be with Chris right now – he always knew how to talk you down when you argued, and you knew he wouldn’t judge you for being drunk and stupid because he’d spent half of his teenage years doing the same thing.

           “Thanks,” you said as he handed you a hot cup of coffee a minute later. He sat beside you and rubbed your back, trying to warm you up from the freezing March weather.

           “Any reason why Seb’s calling you non-stop?”

           “Yeah,” you said. “He probably just realized I’m gone.” Chris sighed.

           “You can’t just run away in the middle of the night, half drunk, and not tell your dad. I’ll call him and…” Just as he was talking, there was a knock at his hotel room door. He sighed and stood up, confused as to who it could be, and when he opened the door, it was Sebastian. He opened the door wider for him to come in, and your dad just stared you down.

           “Really, Y/n?” He asked loudly.

           “Okay, you two, some rules. No yelling. You talk this out. I’m going down to the bar to catch the end of the hockey game. If I get a noise complaint, it’s all on you guys. Deal?” You both nodded and Chris left the room, leaving the two of you alone.

           “How’d you get here?” Your dad asked you, sitting down on the bed across from you. You offered him a sip of your coffee, which he took, and handed back to you.

           “A cop found me so I lied and said I was staying with Chris,” you admitted.

           “Well, at least it was a cop and not some rando. Babe, you can’t run away every time we get into an argument.”

           “I don’t even know why I did.” You took a sip of coffee and it warmed you up and woke you up at the same time, causing you to sit up a little straighter. He sighed, his head in his hands.

           “I didn’t mean anything of what I said back there. I was just aggravated that you snuck out. And I’m glad you were with your boyfriend, but still. You have to tell me where you’re going, that’s why we have that rule.”

           “I know. I get it.”

           “I thought you actually ran away ran away.”

           “I just came here because I knew he’d let me stay with him until you were gone.” Your dad sighed. “I didn’t mean to say it was your fault. It’s not. It’s mine.”

           “No, you were right. I wasn’t here. For a lot of things. I was too busy being Bucky Barnes that I forgot how to be your dad, and I’m sorry. You needed a dad and that was the one role I didn’t know how to do.” You were both quiet for a minute. “Why don’t you come out to L.A. with me tomorrow? We can take a few days after my audition, just you and me, and we can get ourselves together.”

           “I’d like that.” It had been a long time since he’d taken you anywhere without the intention of just letting you stay in a hotel all day. “You work hard. And I know that. I just miss you. And I guess I just got mad because I miss you.”

           “I miss you too, babe. Come here.” You stood up at the same time he did and he wrapped you in a hug. He could still smell the alcohol on your breath, but he paid no mind to it. He just hugged you tighter than he had in a long time. That was when the door opened again and Chris was standing there.

           “Oh, thank God, you worked it out. Seb, how’d you even know she was here?”

           “Would you believe me if I said I was coming to talk to you because I didn’t even know she was gone?” Chris chuckled.

           “Yeah, I actually would believe that.” Your dad laughed, letting you go finally.

           “Alright, we’re gonna head home. I’m taking her out to L.A. with me, but if you wanna use the house you’re welcome to take the guest room still.”

           “Thanks, man. And the both of you just need to learn how to talk to each other, because if I wasn’t here you’d probably still be in a screaming match.” You sniffled and gave Chris a hug, thanking him, and your dad called a car to come get the both of you.

           “By the way, water bottles full of Malibu? I know it’s clear, but you should really get a colored water bottle if you’re gonna do that.” You elbowed your dad, laughing for the first time in forever, and wiped away a tear that had been on your face.

A/N: So I ended up combining three requests with this, one where she sneaks in with her boyfriend, one where she goes to Chris’s after an argument, and one where she gets picked up by the police. I hope that’s okay with you guys, but I thought they all worked so well together that I might as well!

[themonotonysyndrome]

Our Intertwine Dream

Another oneshot about Papa Lilia and Malleus with their human teenage son, Silver! I think I’m gonna turn this and the previous oneshot into a series while I’m still having fun writing ‘em and yeah, even if it’s a little late, I wanted to do something to celebrate Silver’s birthday. 

-

“Such a fair and gentle child you are. Quiet too.”

“...”

“My, my what a big yawn that was! Is it nap time already?”

“...”

“...How curious.”

“There you are, grandmother. Lilia said that it’s Silver’s feeding time now.” 

“Oh dear. The little one went out like a candle’s flame. Poor thing must be tired from playing.”

“Silver just woke up three hours ago.”

“Is that so? Say, Malleus dear, how about you and that Fae of yours stay in the castle for a couple more days. I would like to... investigate something.” 

“As you wish, grandmother...”

-

Silver wakes up when he heard his phone vibrated. Blinking a couple of time, he then rubs his crusty eyelids blearily before pushing himself up from the soft bed and sigh deeply. Dawn has made way for bright, morning rays to creep into his room despite the thick curtains.

When his phone on the bedside table vibrate again, Silver snatch it to check his text messages. 

Like any other day, Lilia’s attempt to wake him up for classes is by spamming his phone with a series of pictures that he find interesting or funny. Before, the Fae used to called his phone and sometimes even break through the door when he quickly realised that Silver would actively ignore the calls, but the few success that Lilia managed to get him out of the bed, Silver still ended up sleeping with his face planted inside a bowl of cereal. In the end, practically every one in Diasomnia knew that Silver will wake up whenever he can and the teaching staff of the school allows a little leeway because of his conditions. 

Today, Lilia is spamming his phone with pictures of Savanaclaws’ First Years students chasing each other on the field. Behind them, the sun made its slow ascension to the sky. 

Silver threw his phone on the bed and begin to get ready for the day. If he hurries, he can still make it to breakfast. Freshly showered and donning his uniform, he quickly check that he has his phone, magic crystal and wallet before leaving the dorm. The younger students loitering about the hallway and common room greet him good morning as he head towards the cafeteria.  “Who was that?” “That’s Silver-senpai. A Second Year student. He’s the one I told you about last week. You know, the senior that tutored me and the guys for History of Magic?” “The one that took a nap halfway?”

“Oh, Silver-senpai is always like that. I heard that he can sleep anywhere! But he’s really good at History of Magic though. I even got an A for my test!” 

Silver lets out a yawn as the conversation fades behind him. He had tried his best to stay awake during that tutoring session but the table looked as soft as his bed and before he knew it, the words on his text book look like worms and he blacked out. 

It was nice for the First Years to called Lilia when he was knocked out though. 

Today, the halls of Night Raven College are relatively peaceful. Friends huddled at the courtyard, taking pictures and laughing amongst themselves. A couple of Scarabia students are mingling with two Ignihyde seniors with their laptops out; probably a tutoring session. A Pomefiore student is humming to himself as he pick fresh flowers near the water fountain and a pair of Heartslabyul and Octavinelle students are playing cards; most likely UNO because one of the Heartslabyul student suddenly shrieked, “WHY DON’T I HAVE ANY GREEN!? YOU GUYS ARE CHEATING!” 

“Oh! Good morning, Silver-senpai!” Yuu suddenly greeted Silver just as he was about to enter the cafeteria. Behind the younger boy, he could smell fresh baked breads and strong black coffee wafting in the air. The smell is so strong that it’s probably enough to keep him awake for a whole day. “It’s rare to see you up so early!”

“I managed to wake up on time for once.” Silver reply with a shrug. “Might as well catch up on some classes that I’m lagging behind.” Sebek would scold his ears off if he caught Silver slacking in class, ever. Something about bringing shame and disgrace to Malleus and Lilia and honestly, Silver tends to tune out whenever Sebek started to rant about how great his parents are. 

“That sounds like a great idea Silver-senpai! I’m sure you’ll do well.” Yuu said with a cheer. For some reason, the boy is completely alone; no Grim or those two First Year Heartslabyul students that constantly flank his sides. Unaware of Silver’s musing, Yuu continue, “Anyway, I just saw Lilia-senpai and the others at the table near the hot drink section.” 

“Oh. Thanks. Guess I’ll see you around - ” Silver begins but then Yuu’s eyes suddenly blow wide and before Silver could ask what’s wrong, Yuu hurriedly interrupts him. 

“Ok, nice talking to you Silver-senpai, gotta go to class now! If anyone asks, I’m not here, ok? Bye-bye!” Yuu then ran off without even looking at him. Leaving Silver to stand alone awkwardly in front of the cafeteria’s entrance. 

“Well... that was something - ”

“Oh? If it isn’t Silver-san.”

“What a rare sight to see Jellyfish-san floating in the morning!”

The Leech brothers are smiling widely when Silver slowly turn around. It didn’t escape his notice that, Azul is not with them. Floyd tilts his head - rows of sharp teeth pokes out - and ask, “Say... you don’t happen to see our cute Shrimp-kun, have you?” 

“No.” Silver easily fibbed. Whatever is going on with the Leech brothers and Yuu (and probably Azul) is none of his concern. He decided to leave the twins be when they stare at him with an odd expression; as if trying to decide whether he’s lying or not. True to Yuu’s words, Silver easily spotted Lilia and the rest of their group when he zooms in on the drinks table. Sebek is furiously muttering to himself as he reads a textbook; pages constantly flipping. Lilia is checking his phone with a content smile and beside him, Malleus is diligently cutting his veggie omelette into small pieces. Plates of cold cut fruits, bread and pancakes along with juices and a cup of coffee for Lilia are spread on the table. 

The three of them occupy the large dining table despite how crowded the cafeteria is. 

“Good morning.” Silver greeted the group before taking a seat beside Sebek.

“Silver! You’re awake! Did Mr.Trein’s cat pictures woke you up?” Lilia teases. He tucks away the phone to cupped his face and grin lazily at him. 

“Had a weird dream.” Silver reply and made sure to thank Malleus when the Fae handed him the cut up omelette and a tall glass of orange juice before resuming his own breakfast. He waste no time and dig in. 

“Oh? What was it about?” 

“The face is a bit fuzzy but I was sitting on someone’s lap at a... garden, I think. She had a nice voice.” He said after sipping on his OJ. “It ended when I heard Malleus-sama’s voice.” 

Sebek jerk his head away from the textbook at that. Before he could demand what Silver meant, Lilia interjects with a hum. 

“That sounds too... normal to be a dream. More like a - ”

“A memory.”

Malleus put aside his napkin when the three of them turn their attention to him. He stares at Silver with a thoughtful expression. “It was a summer morning. I came to the garden when Lilia told me that you were with grandmother for the day.” 

Sebek is now in sheer awe - like usual when it’s anything related to Malleus - while Silver’s cheeks are dusted red as Lilia laugh, clutching his stomach in delight. “I remember that summer! It was Silver’s first time visiting the Castle of Thorns. You were such an adorable little one that Malleus’ grandmother insisted that we extended our stay.” Lilia then sigh fondly. “That was a nice summer...” 

And... there Lilia goes, off reminiscing Silver’s childhood. Silver quickly put a stop to it with an embarrassed cough. Lilia merely teases him some more in retaliation. Breakfast continues on until Sebek suggest they head to their respective classes now. Lilia and Malleus had P.E, Sebek went to join a crowd of First Year students drifting upstairs to the second floor; leaving Silver with his Alchemy class. 

He allows himself to be pull along by a couple of his classmates when they notice him rounding the corner. Silver finds it easy to join their conversation since it was about homework and soon enough, they chatted their way to the classroom. 

Mid conversation, Silver yawns. When he rub his watery eyes, something bright red accompany by a smile flash pass him. So quick and sudden, almost like a ribbon - 

“Silver-san?” One of his classmates call out when they notice that Silver had suddenly stop walking with them. “Is something wrong?” 

Silver blink; realise that he had automatically whip around to catch that flash of red but after looking at his sides, students in familiar uniform are mingling around him. No one stood out of the ordinary. 

“Just thought I saw something...” Silver slowly admits. There’s something nibbling at the back of his mind but it refuses to surface despite how hard Silver tries to remember. 

Classes passed through the day without a hitch. Silver finds himself staying awake for all of them that a surprised teacher even commented about it. When homeworks are done with enough time to spare before dinner, he wonder what the others are doing right now. Putting away his books and pencil case into his bookbag, Silver left his room for the dorm’s lounge. Usually Sebek is there around this time and they would bicker and wait for Lilia and Malleus to show up so they could have dinner together. 

But when he reaches the ground floor, Silver is surprise that Sebek is nowhere in sight. Perhaps he’s with his other group of friends? 

He looks around the lounge thinking that Sebek might be hiding behind the book shelves or something, yet only some Third Year students are relaxing on the couch; talking quietly amongst themselves. From the foot of the stairs, a few students walk down behind him. 

“ - did you see Vil-senpai’s new MagiCam post?” 

“The one on tips for short hairstyles? Oh! Is that why you tied up your hair differently after P.E?” 

“What do you think? I’m digging this new look!” 

“Well... at least people know that you actually have eyes now.” 

“Wa - did my bangs really covered my face that badly!? Why did no tell me before?!?”

The chatters gradually fade into background noises when Silver caught an unusual scent lingering behind him; a scent that makes him heady and eyes drowsy, almost instantly. It carries a subtle smell of smokey cedarwood, and blooming tuberoses that remind Silver of hot, creamy crème brûlée that melts on your tongue. 

But the magnetic scent immediately vanishes the moment Silver turn around to chase after it, frantically searching which student wore the cologne. 

“There you are, human! Don’t you know that you’re keeping Malleus-sama and Lilia-sama waiting!?” 

“Sebek?” 

Sebek appear at the entrance of their dorm wearing an unamused expression, hands firmly on his hips. When did he arrive? 

He roll his eyes when Silver continue to stare at him in stupor. “Well? Are you coming or not?” 

Silver shut his eyes and pinch the bridge of his nose. Shaking his head once, it took a while for him orientate himself. “Right. Let’s go.” 

Sebek didn’t question his terse’s reply as they walk towards the cafeteria, thinking that the Second Year student is in one of his moods again. He did throw an odd glance whenever Silver turn around as if he’s looking for someone or something. 

Later when the night grows long and the Diasomnia dorm is silent, Silver lies wide awake; staring listlessly at his bedroom ceiling in the dark. Scrolling through his phone did nothing to tire him out nor did reading boring textbooks help. 

Although, Flyod’s weird MagiCam post of him in a selfie with a happy Jade sitting prim and proper on Azul’s bed and Yuu’s black hair poking from underneath the duvet in the background was... something.

With a huff, Silver twist and turn underneath the duvet before closing his eyes in hopes that he could finally settle in for the night. 

Time seem to creep on before exhaustion claims him and Silver finally falls asleep. 

When he open his eyes, Silver found himself sitting on a picnic blanket. Soft morning rays shine through the tall tree above him. He notices small, bite-size food that are for children are laid out for him on a paper plate. A picnic basket is put aside near the tree’s roots, lacqured boxes of food were placed on the centre of the blanket and an uncapped thermos of hot tea is ready for anyone who wants to drink. 

He also notice that he was sitting on someone’s lap. 

“Oh? Are you finally hungry?” Silver tips his head back to see Lilia smiling down at him. His arms move around his small body to encase Silver in a hug. It was then he realise that he’s in a child’s body. 

“Here. Want some apples? It’s yummy!” Lilia coo as he tries to entice Silver to eat the sliced fruit by wagging it in front of him. 

“Maybe we should try some oranges again?” Malleus suggest, awkwardly holding a whole, round orange in one hand as he inspect it with uncertain, knitted eyebrows. 

“I rather not have him throw them at my hair again, Malleus.” Lilia sighs and put down the sliced apple when he no longer had Silver’s attention. 

As the Faes discuss on how to get him to eat, Silver understand that he’s reliving one of his childhood memories. Sure enough, he could easily spot the castle that belongs to Malleus’ grandmother looming behind the sea of trees.

This is the first time that Silver is consciously aware that he’s dreaming. It feels so surreal being able to coherently think like an adult but posses the speech capability of a seven year old. He grunts and whine to show his displeasure when it’s beginning to feel too warm in Lilia’s embrace. 

“Alright, alright, little man. Stop squirming for a moment...” Lilia neated Silver’s little clothes before finally release him onto the soft grass so he could play. “There! Hopefully you’re tire yourself out until you actually want lunch.” 

“...Is feeding a human child always this difficult?” Malleus couldn’t help but ask when he watch Silver wobble around, looking at everything and anything. 

“You know what? I don’t know.” Lilia admits though he didn’t sound all that concern. He knows that Silver will eat when his little tummy rumble soon enough. “I heard that some kids from a human village can be fussy when it comes to food. Silver might be one of those type.” He hums and tap his chin as he recalls their last meal time. “Then again, I heard that human kids loathe vegetables but Silver enjoyed eating your salad during dinner.” 

The Faes continue to talk while occasionaly keep an eye out on little Silver who is critically inspecting a wild patch of daisies. 

Back to Silver, he internally wonders why he’s reliving this particular memory. He tries to remember what else this memory entail when something pull him away from the flowers. 

That strange scent - cedarwood and crème brûlée - slips around him, thoroughly capture his attention in an instant and deafen him from Lilia and Malleus’s conversation. It envelopes his world that even the sunlight starts to dim when his eyes grows heavy. 

And before he realises it, Silver’s little legs begin to carry him towards the forest. Where the scent seem to be. 

The deeper Silver travese into the forest, the world around him begin to grow dark, as if the tall trees are blocking out the sun. Even the crickets and chirping birds are silenced the longer he walk and yet, he still couldn’t find the scource of that smell! 

“...er?”

Silver pauses. What was that? It sounded like - 

“...ver?”

He wanted to turn around, to move his arms but no matter how hard he tries, Silver stands there, frozen stiff as a statue. 

“...Silver?”

The scent is slightly stronger now. It smells so sweet, so comforting as if beckoning him forward and his legs begin to move again. 

A hand shoot out from the dark to gently grab his shoulder from behind. A familiar voice chimes in, “There you are Silver! I was beginning to worry, little one.” It’s Lilia. It’s Papa. His touch is like an anchor, bringing him back to a sense of safety and familiarity that Silver could sob in relief. “Come on now; it’s time to wake up, love.” 

At that moment, Silver jerks up; eyes wide awake and his heart racing. His room is so bright and warm that he had to squint his eyes a little to adjust his vision when he notice a silhouette that vaguely resemble Lilia sitting on his bed.

“Hang on, let me draw the curtains.” When the room is a little darken, Silver rubs his weary eyes and find that it’s indeed Lilia; his coat uniform and cap drape over the bed. For some reason, he’s studying Silver with a complicated expression; lips pursed and eyebrows knitted in worry. 

“W-What? Silver croak, hating how parched his throat feels. 

“How are you feeling?” Lilia asks immediately. He hovers close to Silver, cupping his clammy face with bare hands as he checks for... something. 

Silver lets the question sinks in for moment. “...Tired.” He admits with a sigh. His heart finally calms down when he leans into Lilia’s touch, eyes heavy but this time, he just wants to bask in Lilia’s warmth. 

Lilia bits his lower lip and slowly withdraw his hands before taking a sit on the bed. “What was the last thing that you did? Did you drunk any funny potion before bed?” 

“What? The last thing I did?” Silver repeated, a little lost but answer him nonetheless, “After dinner, I couldn’t sleep so I tried to bored myself by reading and when that didn’t work, I went to bed. I managed to fell sleep soon enough.” He explains and uneasiness churns in the pit of his stomach when Lilia still look at him strangely. 

He had never seen Lilia wear such expression before. 

“Silver... you’ve been asleep for four days.” 

The ancient Fae’s tentative announcement made Silver’s heart drop like a heavy lead. “...What?” 

“Calm down. Hey, can you look at me, Silver?” Lilia’s voice drops to soothing when he sees the far off look in Silver’s eyes. He holds both of the teenager’s hands when he heard Silver’s breath hitches. He continue to grip on them even when Silver meets his gaze. “It’s alright; you’re awake now and that’s what important. Can you remember if you’ve been dreaming or...”

“We were having a picnic back when I was a child. It’s somewhere behind the Witch’s castle - ”

“I remember that.” Lilia assure him calmly. He only spoke like that to Silver whenever he was spooked but it’s been years since the Fae spoke in such tone now that he’s all grown up. “You were such a curious child. You insist on wanting to pick wild flowers when we’re supposed to have lunch.” 

Wait - 

“...What happened next?”

“You plucked a bunch of daisies and gave them to me and Malleus; dirt and all. You looked so proud despite that you made a mess on the picnic blanket that I scooped you into my arms and we cuddled until you tried to gnaw on my hair.” Lilia laughs softly. “You were so attracted to my hair because of the colours that I had to buy you a black and pink teddy bear for you to obssessed on. Do you remember that?”

No. Silver doesn’t remember any of that... 

And that frightens him.  

“Silver? Talk to me; what are you thinking about?” Lilia pleads when instead of a flustered Silver like he’s hoping, his son in all but blood pales. 

Despite the warm morning, chill runs down Silver’s spine when he said in a detached tone, “I... I think I had a nightmare, but... I can’t remember of what.”

[marshmallow-phd]

Midnight Hours

Part of The Untamed - EXO Wolf Universe

Genre: Wolf!AU

Pairing: Sehun x Reader

Summary: For you, being a good witch was easier said than done. Something dark was lurking inside of you and the others knew it. When you’re forced to tag along with Soomi and help a local wolfpack face a coming evil, you’re sent on a path that breaks into a crossroads. While you struggle with your inner demons, could the wolf Sehun be the key to your ultimate fate?

Part: 1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5 I 6 I 7 I 8 I 9 I 10 I 11 I 12 I 13 I 14 I 15 I 16 I 17 I Final

**

“Has anyone seen my wallet?”

“You left in the car last night.”

“I swear, if someone took my jacket-”

“Only you would wear something like that, Tao.”

“Why are all the eggs gone again?”

You groaned at the sudden intrusion of your peaceful sleep, burying your face in the woods-scented pillow. A chuckle rumbled beside you. A pair of lips gently brushed against your temple. Knowing that was your signal to get up, you pushed your face deeper into the sanctuary of sleep.

“(y/n)… you can’t stay here all day.”

“Watch me,” you mumbled.

Arms snaked around your waist, pulling you into a space-heater of a chest. “If we stay here much longer, someone will come looking for us,” Sehun whispered in your ear. “Probably Jongdae or Tao. Or maybe even Baek-”

You whimpered as you flipped over, cutting off the wolf before he could finish the troublemaker’s name. But that didn’t mean you were ready to wake up. It was nice, lying there with him, your cheek pressed up against his collarbone. You felt protected, loved, safe. Granted, that’s how you always felt with Sehun, but in this space and in this moment, you felt it at its maximum. From the way his arms tightened around you and how he leaned down to kiss the still-healing mark he’d indented in your shoulder only a week ago, he was feeling it, too.

“You make it hard to get up,” he sighed. From his tone, he was trying to feign annoyance. Too bad you already knew how much he loved this.

“Then let’s just stay here,” you suggested. This was technically his fault, anyway. He was the one who insisted on staying out late last night. First it was dinner, then a movie, then a long drive through the backwoods. You don’t actually remember coming home as you’d fallen asleep sometime passed one in the morning, still in the passenger’s seat of Sehun’s car.

“Okay,” Sehun mumbled. “Five more minutes.” You felt him settle again beside you, a satisfied rumble vibrating in his throat. You were just about to drift off again when-

Bang! “Alright, time to get up!”

You half-groaned, half-growled at Baekhyun and his ability to be so loud first thing in the morning. Jumping into a sitting position, you grabbed your pillow and threw it as hard as you could across the room. But you missed. The pillow smacked against the wall widely to his right.

“Well, I guess we can count a baseball career out for you,” he cackled.

Narrowing your eyes, you concentrated on the glass of water next to you on the nightstand.

“Hey!” Baekhyun spat out the water that had landed in his mouth when you sent it flying towards his face, soaking his hair and shoulders.

“Maybe next time you’ll think before you try to rouse a sleeping witch.”

Baekhyun muttered under his breath as he stormed out of the room, mostly likely to change into a dry shirt.

Sehun scooted closer to you as he sat up as well, nuzzling your shoulder with his nose. “I don’t think we should risk another messenger.”

“Probably not,” you sighed as you glanced at the now empty glass. “I’m all out of ammo.”

“Oh, I’m sure you could come up with something else.”

Rolling your eyes, you slipped out of bed and over to the dresser. After pulling out a clean shirt and pair of pants, you started to turn back to Sehun. However, before you even made it a quarter of the way, the wolf was already dressed, grabbing your wrist and lifting you up so you were now on his back. Giggles exploded from you as he raced out of the room and down the stairs, creating his own wind with the speed. You held on tight with your arms around his neck, careful not to choke him.

You were still laughing and holding onto him when he reached the kitchen. As per usual, the room was filled practically to the brim with people. Even though you’d been living full time at the farmhouse for over a month (on top of the previous month with Soomi) you still weren’t entirely used to the large amount of people. Thankfully, the second house was nearing completion and the occupancy would be cut in half. The downside, however, is that your getaway would no longer be available to you and Sehun.

“That’s still so weird,” Jongdae stage-whispered to Minseok.

The older wolf leaned back in his chair at the table to get a better look as you hopped down from Sehun’s back. “I think it’s cute.”

You thought that Sehun might send a snarky comment that way given his dislike of the “c” word, but to your surprise, he ignored them, going over to the counter and piling two plates high with food before herding you over to the table.

In front of you was more than enough food to keep you full for the next few hours. As you slowly eat the delicious breakfast that was so kindly prepared by Evie and Ming, you eyed Sehun from the side. He had something up his sleeve, you could feel it. He’d done this before; making sure you had your fill and then taking you out of the house for hours, not coming back until near dinner time.

You knew he did it for you, the alone time. In here, you could hardly turn around without stepping on somebody. So he’d take you where you could breathe again, where you could think without having to start over because someone fell or dropped something or started yelling. You were so used to the quiet and isolation. In the past, you would wish for this opposite. Apparently, the grass really is always greener.

Sehun was finished with his breakfast before you were halfway through your plate. Another indicator that he was up to something since usually he would only be just starting on his meal at this point. It was some primal instinct to make sure his mate was eating enough. At least he wasn’t a food hog.

When his plate was completely clear, Sehun stood up and dumped his dirty dishes in the sink. In a flash he was bounding back up the stairs. Harper, whose baby bump was just starting to show, raised an eyebrow at you questioningly from across the table. All you could do was shrug as you had about as much of a clue as she did.

When he came back, he had your favorite jacket in his hands along with your small backpack. With still no word to you, he filled two thermostats with fresh coffee before coming back over to the table.

“Are you done?” he asked, looking down at your mostly empty plate.

You nodded. “Yeah. Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“Maybe I don’t like surprises?”

“You’ll like this one.”

“Says who?”

“Me.”

“I don’t think you’re the authority on that.”

“I’m always the authority.”

“Really? Because I don’t th-”

“Oh, would you two please just go!” Jongdae whined.

You snickered, but did as he asked, getting up from the table and dropping your plate off while giving Evie an apologetic look.

She waved the look away. “Don’t worry about it. Go have fun. I know I’d like to have a nice romantic time in the woods.”

“I heard that.” Kris entered the kitchen with Mei in his arms.

“Just dropping hints,” Evie shrugged.

Kris went over and kissed her chastely. “I’d say that’s more than a hint.”

Taking you away from the scene, Sehun grabbed your hand and pulled you towards the back door. “Come on.”

Outside the wind chilled and bit at your nose. Sehun helped you with your jacket - which helped a bit - and backpack and then motioned for you to climb on his back.

“Still not going to tell me where we’re going?”

“Nope.”

“Of course.”

Sehun took off into the trees before you could respond. Everything blurred by you. There was no telling where he was headed or what he had in mind, so you simply rolled with it. Trying to figure it out was pointless anyway.

He finally came to a stop, breaking through the trees where a large lake sat calmly. With a pat to your thigh, he signaled for you to get down. Small gravel-like pebbles, smoothed by years of being washed by the tide crunched under your feet.

“I didn’t know this was here.” Your eyes wandering over the scenery. Even with the heavy gray skies above and the rippling waters, it was breathtaking.

“Not a lot of people do.” Slipping his fingers through yours, he tugged you a little closer to shore. He sat down and tried to get you to do the same.

“It’s cold,” you complained.

But all he did was smirk at your childish whine. “I’ll keep you warm.”

Well… how could you resist that?

Sitting down in front of him, a shiver ran up your spine as soon as your backside met the rocks. Just as he promised, he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you in close.

“It’s so quiet,” you whispered after a few minutes or so.

“That’s why I brought you here,” Sehun said. “I knew you need it more often than I do. I’ll bring you here whenever you want. The others come occasionally, but not so much anymore.”

Oh, wonderful. You could already feel your insides turning into mush and your eyes filling up with salty water. Twisting your body so you could look back at him, you didn’t even try to fight the smile spreading across your face.

“I love you.”

It was a like firework show exploding on his face. Or the sun finally breaking through the clouds after constant darkness.

You hadn’t been able to make yourself say those three little words to him yet. Though Sehun had no issues saying it, you’d found yourself stopping each time you tried. Was it the timing? The atmosphere? Your fear of commitment?

You couldn’t really say that you had a fear of commitment. Being with Sehun was easy, right. You weren’t scared of being tied to him for the rest of your life. Saying it was too soon almost felt like a cop-out because you knew how you felt about him.

Maybe you wouldn’t ever really know why you hadn’t said it back before. But you finally did and it felt so right.

Ecstatic at that sentence, Sehun pounced on you. Nearly all his weight was on you as you landed hard on the rocks. A soft “ow” escaped before you could stop it, sending Sehun into a panic. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

You smiled up at him before pushing up and kissing him. “I’m fine.”

He sighed with relief. “Good.” He cupped your cheek in him palm and said the words that were obvious in his eyes. “I love you.”

Fate had decided to play around and stick the wolf and the witch together. Mortal enemies by heritage, lovers by bond. It was a story for the ages, one that would echo through time along with the other great loves of history.  

“Well, then,” you laughed, “I guess we’re stuck with each other.”

Sehun nodded once before diving in for another kiss.

[overwhelmedbyskeletons]

When Nothing Moves

I can’t sleep. The sun is too bright.

I started this job cleaning out fruit slicers all night a month ago and I haven’t had a good nights sleep since. Every night filled with tossing and turning, trying to find a way to comfortably shield my eyes from the suns blinding light. Working a graveyard hours job meant I was sleeping all day and working all night. The cruddy curtains in my room were doing fuck-all for blocking out sunlight. Some of the guys at my job that were friendly enough told me to buy some blackout curtains and it will make my room completely dark, even with the sun beating down and hopefully it will help me get some good rest. after my work week ended, in my car I ordered that highest-reviewed blackout curtains I could find online and they were due to arrive at my apartment the next morning, in seven hours.

I woke the next day to a knock on my door and a shine directly into my eyes. I could have rearranged my entire room several times and still wouldn’t be able find a way to not get work on my tan while I sleep. I hurried to the door to get the package and gave a wave to the delivery driver before they made it down the stairs out of view.

Putting up the curtains was smooth, even though they were quite heavy material. My biggest fear was that they would pull the curtain rod from the wall, but that worry didn’t last long as the void that my bedroom had become was a sight for sore and tired eyes. I poured myself a glass of water in the kitchen before sitting down on my bed. Before I could take a sip, the comfort of my sheets began to sing symphonies to my tired muscles and lull me back to sleep.

I slept in, something that was unheard of even before I started my backwards sleep schedule. The clock on the bedside table read 9:23pm in red digital font, illuminating my wallet and phone that I had forgotten to plug in after last nights shift and was now most definitely dead. Still in a sleep state, I reached down to grab the charger and plug it into my phone when I heard a noise come from the other side of the bed. A tapping in a rhythmic matter, which would explain why i hadn’t noticed it sooner, but now it had gotten louder, almost annoyed at me paying it no mind and I froze leaning halfway off the bed. The jolt of fear that swarmed my body woke me up better than any instant java could ever wish. It knows that I know and its playing with me now. The tapping is getting faster and multiplies and I now that it is the sound of fingernails tapping on my wall.

(Did somebody break in am I really going to get murdered in my bed after the first night of decent sleep in my life?)

The tapping stopped suddenly, followed by a bang on the wall knocking out one of the nails holding up the curtains. My fists clenched among other things. I roll off the bed into a stance and with a sorry excuse of a warcry ready to fight whatever it was in my room to the death if need be. Nothing was there; I was sure of that. The curtains had fallen letting in the bright glow from the 7-11 across the street, revealing the only thing out of the ordinary in my room was that I needed to clean.

“Must’ve been a dream.” I said out loud, an attempt to calm myself after what I just experienced or just only imagined.

I flicked the flicked the lights on and fixed the curtains. Hammering in the nails all a little more for good measure before walking out of my room to start my day.

My apartment is in no meaning of the word interesting. I’ll state that I had, two chairs, a couch, some scattered goodwill tables of varying size, and a flatscreen TV on a small Swedish table decorated with a collection of games and movies. It wasn’t much, but I enjoyed what I had.

I prepared myself a bowl of cereal and sat on the couch to watch a show when I noticed movement down the hallway into my room. It wasn’t a natural movement in any sense and even now it is hard to explain. It was as if the world had lost focus of that specific spot in my bedroom doorway and it had grown hazy and distorted. It had the height of a man in a sheet ghost’s clothing and it was raising what I presumed to be its arms when an ad on the TV startled me back to reality. I started up a show and began eating my food quickly, doing my best to forget what might be lurking down the hall and failing as thoughts raced through my head.

(I didn’t check under the bed FUCK no one can fit under there anyways FUCK THE CLOSET FUCK it’s nothing probably just a reflection YOU HAVE NO MIRRORS IN THERE DUMBASS AND YOU CLOSED THE CURTAINS IT’S A GHOST YOU ARE BEING HAUNTED CONGRATULATIONS SHIRLEY FUCKING JACKSON WOULD WRITE A BOOK ABOUT YOU CALLED THE IDIOT’S HAUNTING IF SHE WAS STILL ALIVE)

Frustrated with myself I hopped up and marched down the hall to my room huffing and puffing with each authoritative stomp, making sure that whoever await beyond the door knew I meant the most serious of business, as well as sloshing my breakfast everywhere. As I pushed the door open fully I was rushed by what I can only describe as a shadow, knocking me on my back. spilling cereal and milk all over me and as I looked up I could see the shadow turn left at the end of the hallway into the TV room and out of my sight.

I was terrified. I tried to stand myself up while keeping my sights on where I last saw it. As I got to my knees and began to prop up, the shadow peaked around the corner with a featureless, translucent face starring at me with what I assumed was malicious intent. Frozen in fear, I could only muster up the breath to ask a single question.

“Who?”

To which, to my absolute horror it responded in a echoed whisper.

“Boo.”

And vanished.

With my pants shit and my legs like jello, it took me a moment to breath, let alone move. When Blood returned to my veins I hastily made my way to the bathroom to clean myself of spilled Golden Grahams and milk and to face the realization that what I had just witnessed was anything but normal. I spent a moment arguing with my thoughts, fighting the impulse to sleep in my car. My reflection in the bathroom mirror helped to ground me in reality, to remind me that I am fine and no harm was done. I convinced myself of a resident Casper The Friendly, albeit roughhousing ghost. I soon after left the bathroom.

I poured myself another, bigger bowl of cereal and sat down to watch anything the TV had to offer. I spent the rest of the night on the couch, eating and finding any excuse to not look down the hallway.

At around 2:51am I had had enough of wracking my brain, thinking that at any moment the shadow would reappear and attack me again, this time finishing the job. I bolted down the hallway to my bedroom, grabbed my keys and wallet and headed out my apartment to go across the street to the 7-11 for a early morning slurpee. The cashier knew me and joked about my usual purchase of sugary drinks and snacks. I gave no response, paid my $6.23 and headed out the door.

As I was crossing the street back to my apartment, I looked up to my second floor bedroom window, half hoping to see nothing, other half expecting bloody Mary herself. After what I had been through that night, I’m not sure why I even went back into that apartment. The curtain rod had been torn out of the wall again and standing in my room were two of the shadow figures latched to the windowsill, with the distinct outline of hands pushed against the glass. They watched me as I continued crossing the street; my heart was almost bursting out of my chest. I was running on fear induced auto-pilot and my destination was my apartment door. When I reached my door I finally paused and reflected on what had happened tonight.

(If they wanted me dead, They could have done it already. They were playing games with me, but why?)

I stood in front of my door for a minute before realizing I had never locked it and walked right in ready to confront whatever was inside. I flicked the kitchen light on, set my drink and bag down, and looked down the dark hallway. Spilling out of my room were dozens of shadows piling over each other, all different shapes and heights of darkness, fading in and out as if there was a draft blowing through them. I began nervously pacing in my small kitchen, checking on the hallways inhabitants every few rounds. They never moved. After a while a voice moaned from my bedroom.

“Leave”

“No.” I spat out responded in annoyance.

“Leave or...”

“Or fucking what?” I shouted with such ferocity that my neighbors definitely heard me.

“Die.”

All the blood drained from my face and immediately the shadows in the hall began screaming and moaning, shifting from side to side,all while inching towards me. My legs turned gave out from under me. trying to catch myself from falling I had turned the kitchen light off which seemed to invite the shadows to come closer. As they got closer, their faces appeared mangled and distorted consisting of holes where a human features should be. As their shadows began to overtake my motionless body, I shut my eyes so tight that it hurt. Amidst the moaning I heard one last phrase.

“Sleep again now. We’ll do the rest.”

The next thing I know, i’m laying on the doormat outside of my apartment. I didn’t care how I got there. I quickly got on my feet and down the stairs to my car. I closed my eyes as I backed out of the parking lot. I didn’t want to ever look at that window ever again.

I stayed at my friend Aiden’s place for a week. He lived alone, so he liked the company and he had the room for it, so he didn’t mind. I had told him a lie of how the landlord was spying on me when I showered and once tried to seduce me while fixing the sink. I think he believed it.

I only wanted to go back to the apartment once to get my stuff. After a week of staying with Aiden, the two of us drove to the apartment building and found that where my bedroom window used to be was blown out, stained black with burn marks. Aiden didn’t know what to say and I was beyond confused. We parked the car and I went to the landlord’s door alone and asked what had happened. He told me in detail that four days again my room had exploded from a gas leak and that I was lucky I went on vacation or else i’d be a deadman. There was nothing to be packed up that wasn’t ash. I apologized to him about his building, and said goodbye. I headed back to my friends car who was waiting with a drink for me from across the street. I got into the car without a word.

“What the fuck happened? Did he try to kill you? Tried to burn you alive cuz you weren’t turned on by his wrinkles?” Aiden said as he started the car.

“No, he doesn’t know what happened. Gas leak they think, he told me.” I said. “Let me take one last look.”

“Oh, sure. Of course.” He said, shutting the engine off. I rested my arms on the top of his car looking up to my once bedroom window now black from the fires, but somehow still intact. I thought I saw something and ran across the street to see it closer. There were two marks on the burnt windowsill; marks I could swear were burned in hands.

“You ok, Rick?” Aiden shouted from the driver’s seat.

“Yea, no, I’m good. Just getting a closer look.” I said as I ran back to the car. “Just saying goodbye is all.”

“Well alrighty, you want to grab some burgers?”

I nodded and smiled.

I never asked him if he saw the handprints.

We pulled out of the parking lot, passing my old apartment building one last time. I instinctively waved to the window that used to be my bedroom. Nothing waved back.

[snowdice]

Road Trips and Missing Persons (Part 9)

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Patton & Virgil, Virgil & Deceit, Logan & Patton, Emile & Remy, Roman & Remus & Janus

Characters: Patton, Virgil, Deceit, Remus, Roman, Logan, Emile, Remy

Summary: Patton was just getting groceries. The next thing he knew, there was a knife at his throat and he was an unwilling uber driver. Virgil’s on the run after the murder of his dad, and it’s not just his paranoia that’s telling him he’s being chased down. He has to get somewhere safe, somewhere he can trust, and all he has is a couple of stories from his dad and a name: “Green Bellow Foods and Dispensary.”

Notes: Secret Agents AU, knives, carjacking, kidnapping, murder mentioned, guns mentioned, pepper spray, blood mentioned, drugs mentioned (more to be added)

This is a fic I’ve been writing on study breaks that you have probably all already seen at this point. I’ve affectionately named it the Goblin Brain Fic because it’s helping my brain actually get motivated for studying. I’ve slightly edited it for wording and grammar, but not for content from my previous posts. Feel free to send in asks to direct it because I’m not 100% sure where this is going and you can help decide if you feel so inclined! You can see the process I went through to build this at this link.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 My Master Post

After a few minutes of silence, Patton glanced over at the kiddo to see that he was curled against the car door, fast asleep. Patton grinned at the cute sight. He was an adorable little carjacker.

Thinking on that… The knife was left abandoned on the seat next to his thigh. Patton reached over carefully and grabbed the medium sized kitchen knife. He slid it into the pocket on the driver’s side door.

A practiced criminal, the boy was not. Which brought forth the question of why he had carjacked Patton. He was clearly running from something, but what and why?

Patton wished the boy would tell him his name. If he gave Patton a last name, he might be able to figure out who he was. If he was going to Green Bellow Foods, that meant he somehow knew about the agency or at least he knew someone who did and figured that they could help. He’d said his dad “knew the owner.” Patton could surmise from that statement that his father probably knew Logan (was possibly and agent) and that he was likely dead. Patton wondered if that death was recent and the reason the boy was on the run or if it had happened a while ago and the initiator of this situation was something else.

Either way, he was awfully young for… well whatever was happening to him, Patton didn’t actually know. Whatever it was, it made Patton sad.

Patton continued to drive toward their destination listening to the silly radio show the kiddo had picked out with wry amusement for another 15 minutes before ‘Anxiety’ started to stir. His eyes flickered open and he made a confused noise, squinting at his surroundings. He looked over at Patton and Patton did his level best not to coo at him.

“Tired?” he asked.

Anxiety made a grumbly sound and moved to rub the sleep out of his eye. As he moved his wrist, a flash of red light caught Patton’s eye and apparently Anxiety’s as well. He moved his wrist away from his face and blinked at it for a long moment. Patton watched confusion and then fear flash across his features. He ripped the bracelet with its blinking red light off his wrist and rolled down the car window. He’d thrown it out onto the interstate before Patton could even process what was happening.

“What was that?” Patton asked, confused.

“It’s a tracker, I’m being tracked,” he fretted. He wrapped his arms around his abdomen like he was going to be sick and curled forward into a ball.

“Hey,” Patton said softly. He reached over to touch the boy’s shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay.”

“It’s not,” he boy said, his breathing starting to come fast. “It’s not okay.”

“Let’s calm down and think about this,” Patton soothed, rubbing a circle into his skin with his thumb while looking for someplace to pull off. “How do you know it’s not someone good looking for you?” he asked.

“Because my dad gave me that tracker and my dad’s fucking dead.”

Oh. Patton had assumed, but it was still sad to hear. From the tone of his voice, Patton assumed it was recent. “Well, does anyone else know about it?” he asked.

“I don’t know. I don’t think so,” he said. He started to yank on the sleeves of his hoodie, stretching the fabric near his wrist, “maybe my uncle.”

“Did you try to get into contact with your uncle at any point before running?”

Anxiety shook his head. “I didn’t have time and I didn’t want them to track my calls, so I turned my cell phone off.”

“Well, you’re already being tracked now,” Patton pointed out. “Calling can’t do any more damage and it might do some good if you can get ahold of him.”

He bit his lip. “I guess you’re right. Maybe I should try.”

He reached into his front pocket and pulled out a phone. He held down the power button until the screen lit up. “That,” he said, staring at his phone screen. “Is a lot of missed calls.”

“From who?” Patton asked.

“It’s a couple of unknown numbers.” His body language screamed terrified as he looked at the screen.

“Hey,” Patton said. “Do me a favor before you call?”

“What?” he asked.

“Reach into the pocket on the back of the seat you’re on and grab what’s inside.”

Anxiety squinted over at him. “This isn’t a trap is it?”

“What trap do you expect I keep hidden in there?” Patton asked amused.

“I dunno. A gun?”

“Ah, yes,” Patton said, unable to stop himself from grinning. “The age-old trap of giving the person who carjacked you a gun.”

“Well, maybe it’s a bomb.”

“In my car?” Patton said slowly. “Where we both currently are? Sitting a few inches apart?”

“A snapping turtle then!” Anxiety… snapped.

Patton just glanced over at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Fine,” he muttered. He turned slightly in his seat and reached his arm around the back of it. He pulled the contents out and brought it into the front seat. “A teddy bear?” he asked, nose wrinkling adorably in his confusion.

“His name’s Barnaby!” Patton said.

“Why?” Anxiety asked.

“Well he has to have a name.”

“No, why do you have a stuffed animal named Barnaby in your car?”

“He’s for emergencies,” Patton explained.

“What type of emergencies need a teddy bear named Barnaby.”

“This type of emergency,” Patton said. “You can squeeze him when you’re feeling ‘anxious,’ Anxiety.” He winked when the boy looked over.

Anxiety rolled his eyes but squeezed the bear’s pudgy stomach once. “Thanks,” he said after a moment.

“Of course!” Patton said. “Now, why don’t you try calling your uncle?”

Anxiety took a breath. “Yeah,” he said.

He typed a couple of buttons and then put the phone to his ear. “It went straight to voicemail,” Anxiety said. “That’s bad isn’t it?”

It could be, but Patton didn’t say that. “Maybe he just has his phone off for some reason. Is there anyone else you could call that might know where he is or anything about what’s going on?”

Anxiety thought for a few seconds and then he was messing with his phone again without responding to Patton. He pressed the phone to his ear and waited. He pulled it away after a moment and held down the power button until it turned off again. He stuffed the phone back in his pocket, eyes shining with tears.

“Hey,” Patton soothed. “Why don’t I get off the interstate at the next exit and we can figure out what to do.”

“I’m not going to the police,” Anxiety replied.

“That isn’t what I was suggesting. Continuing down the interstate’s going to be pretty predictable if you’re being tracked. We need to figure out what’s the best option from here.”

“You’re probably right,” he conceded. “Why are you even helping me though?”

“You seem like a good kid.”

“I kidnapped you by knife point,” he pointed out, but undermined his point by sniffling a bit.

“A good kid in a spot of trouble then.”

Anxiety gave him a skeptical look, but Patton just kept driving until he found the next exit at a small town.

Patton pulled into a gas station parking lot. “Get the map from the glove box, please?”

Anxiety leaned forward to do so and handed it to him.

“Okay,” Patton said looking at the map. “We’ve been driving for about two hours on the interstate minus our stop for dinner and we’re in Bluesburge,” he pointed at the little town on the map. So, we’re about 100 miles away from the factory. Now we’ve got two choices: continue to travel on the interstate or find some back roads.”

Patton looked over the map and did some calculations in his head. He’d never taken the back roads from Bluesburge to base before, but he had driven all around this area at the request of Logan who insisted his agents have a good lay of the land. (Patton had used that excuse to make his brother take him on many ice-cream runs over the years. Logan was always mad when he figured out halfway there what Patton had done and would rip into him about being lactose intolerant but could be soothed with mint chocolate chip.)

“The back roads would probably take about 45 minutes extra,” Patton said, “but it would be less predictable.”

“Back roads,” Anxiety said without hesitation. It was what Patton was going to suggest anyway, so he nodded.

“Alrighty then,” he agreed. “I’m going to have to get gas really quick. Why don’t you run in, go to the bathroom if you need to, and grab a snack while I do? I’ll give you money.” He reached into his wallet and grabbed a twenty. “Get me a coffee, please. We might be up late. Ooo, and a donut if they still have any at this time of day. If not, one of those pre-packaged cinnamon rolls are fine.”

“Um…” Anxiety said. “But you’re my prisoner?”

Patton raised an eyebrow at him, and he blinked down at the car seat.

“… Where’s the knife?”

Patton reached over to pat him on the shoulder.

“Wait… am… am I kidnapped now?” he asked.

“If you were kidnapped, I wouldn’t be sending you in to get snack food, silly,” Patton said as he brandished the twenty-dollar bill in his direction.

He took it slowly, his nose scrunched up. “You’re a weird adult,” he mumbled. “Why did I choose the weird adult to kidnap?” He turned and opened the car door before walking into the gas station.

Want to read more? Click below!

Part 10

[amanda-teaches]

Take a Drunk Girl Home

Summary: Dean’s night out the bar gets a little more interesting when he runs into a girl who might need a little saving.

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Square filled: Bed Sharing for @spnfluffbingo2019​, @spngenrebingo​, and @spndeanbingo​

Word Count: 1869

Warnings: Soft Dean, Protective Dean, Caring Dean, the kind of Dean we all want to fall in love with, fluff, minor swearing

A/N: This is a little bit of an unconventional way to fill this square, but I am so very much in love with it. I hope you are too. It’s based off the song Drunk Girl by Chris Janson, and there are lyrics interspersed throughout.

Dean was sitting at the bar, his elbows resting on the warped plywood, his head in his hands. As he nursed his third beer of the night, he felt like something shifted in the air around him, and he glanced up. His eyes drifted across the room before falling on her, a small smile finding its way to his face.

She was gorgeous, that was for sure, but that wasn’t what drew his attention. It was the way she moved, dancing with her eyes closed like she was the only one in the room. She was bouncing like a pinball, singing along to every song. All the words were wrong, but she kept singing, bopping around the room without a care in the world.

He took in her hair, a perfect mess, and her little-too-tight dress, and he realized what he was looking at. Either a bachelorette or coming off a breakup. His eyes drifted to her hand, taking in the large number of cover charge stamps decorating it and he sighed, putting two and two together.

“Definitely a break-up,” he muttered, confirming his suspicions by scanning the bar and finding a noticeable lack of friends around her. He kept his eyes on her as he took another swig of beer, watching as she continued to twirl around the room, stumbling around on her high heels. She nearly fell once, and he jumped up, ready to intervene, but she caught herself, staggering back to grab her drink off the table.

She downed it in one gulp and then closed her eyes again, throwing out her arms and spinning in a circle. Dean chuckled and turned to the bartender. “Hey, Joe, you know that girl over there?”

Joe followed the path of his pointed finger and shook his head. “Naw, but I know she’s had a lot to drink. I’m gonna have to call her a cab.”

“Don’t bother,” Dean said with a smile, slamming a twenty down on the bar as he stood up. “I got it.”

“You sure?” Joe questioned, raising his eyebrows.

Dean nodded, already halfway to the dance floor. “Yeah, I’ll make sure she gets home safely.”

He turned his head, focusing his full attention on the beautiful woman still swaying drunkenly in front of him. To his left, he could see a tall man with a preppy, little skinny tie heading her way, and he threw him a hard glare, cutting him off at the pass. Within a few more long-legged steps, he was by her side, but he hesitated, placing his hand out as if she was coaxing an easily-spooked deer. “Um, hey...”

She whirled around like a whip, her eyes flying open and meeting his, wild irises, clouded over from the alcohol, struggling to focus. “Wh...at are you?” she stammered, her speech slurring slightly as she blinked a few times, squinting her eyes. “A male model or sometin’?”

He couldn’t help but laugh as he shook his head to correct her. “No, just a guy. I came over here because wanted to make sure you…”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” she screamed, her voice rising far above the music, her hands flying out in front of her. “Who moved the floor?”

“Okay then…” Dean sighed, reaching out to grip her elbow, steadying her. “Can I call someone for you? A friend or boyfriend...”

“Boyfriend!” she snorted, brushing his hand away and doubling over with laughter. “Ha! Not a chance, not after what he did. He wishes!”

“Um, okay…” Dean whispered, watching as her face fell, sadness washing over her. “Maybe someone else?”

She shook her head, straightening her shoulders resolutely. “No. ‘Sides, I don’t need a knight in shining farmer.” She spun back around, throwing her head back and her hands up into the air. “I’m perpect...perbect...perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

“Sure you are,” Dean said with an indulging smile. “But, just the same, maybe we should…”

Before he could finish, she spun around once more, coming to a stop with a whispered “whoa”. She made eye contact with him for the briefest of seconds, her eyes rolling from side to side. “I, uh, I don’ think I feel so good.” And, with just enough warning for him to reach out his arms to catch her, her eyes drifted shut, and she collapsed into his arms.

“Great,” Dean groaned, lifting her up with ease and gently settling her over his shoulder. “Why do they always gotta pass out?”

-

Thirty minutes, and a quick check of her wallet, later, Dean was standing outside of Y/N’s door, cradling her still sleeping form in his arms. He adjusted her slightly, pausing as she softly groaned, before he used her key to unlock the door, pushing it open with his foot.

He protected her head with his hand as he stepped inside, making sure to turn carefully with her in his arms before closing the door. He moved quietly down the small entryway, his eyes quickly adjusting to the shadowed darkness.

He quickly established that the first door he stopped at was a bathroom, so he kept walking, moving towards the door at the end of the hall. When he passed the threshold, he aimed straight for the well-made, inviting bed, placing her down on it gently. She stirred a little before curling in on herself, her eyes remaining closed.

He smiled, stopping just to watch her for a moment, her chest rising and falling steadily. Her hair had fallen in front of her eyes, and, without even thinking, he reached down and brushed it away, his breath catching as he realized what he was doing. He closed his eyes, shaking his head ever so slightly, and straightened back up, turning towards the door.

“Wait…”

The voice was whisper soft, and he almost didn’t hear it, but he did, stopping mid-step. He spun back around to find her sitting up, staring at him. “You brought me home.”

It was almost more of a question than a statement, so he nodded his head. “I wanted to make sure you got here okay.”

“And, now, you’re leaving?”

The vulnerability in her voice shocked him to his core, and, as his eyes connected with hers, he couldn’t bring himself to leave. “I, uh, I guess I could stay for a bit.”

He moved slowly to the other side of the bed, much more hesitantly than before, and sat down gingerly on the edge. Without warning, her fingers lightly touched the base of his shoulder blade, and he felt like he’d been burned, quickly jumping back up and stepping away from the bed.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, moving until she was sitting on her knees, staring after him.

He paced around for a few seconds, raking his hands through his hair. “I should go. You need to sleep, and we barely know each other…”

“Don’t you want me?”

His head whipped around to meet hers, his heart falling at the broken expression on her face. Damn, he wanted to kill her ex for making her look like that. 

He took a deep breath and walked towards her, sitting down on the bed next to her and gently resting his hand on her cheek. She leaned into it almost instinctively, shutting her eyes and breathing him in. “Y/N,” he whispered, his voice as soft as the wind. “You’ve had a lot to drink. As much as I want to stay, and, God, do I want to, I can’t. It wouldn’t be right.”

She opened her eyes, and he inhaled sharply at the tears he saw reflected in them. “I know you don’t believe it right now, but nothing good would come from me staying here tonight. You deserve a whole hell of a lot better than some drunken one night stand, Y/N.”

He leaned in and placed a feather-light kiss to her forehead, gently laying her down as he did, until her head hit the pillow beneath her. He sat back up and grabbed the blanket next to him, carefully placing it on top of her and smiling as he watched her close her eyes and snuggle into it. Standing up, he, once again, made his way to the doorway.

“Hey, knight in shining armor?”

His grin widened, and he paused, his hand on the doorknob. “Yeah?”

“Thank you for saving me.”

“You’re welcome,” he answered quietly, looking back at her one last time and drinking her in before he closed the door behind him and walked back down the hallway.

He took her keys out of his pocket and placed them on the counter by the front door. His hand lingered as he thought of the way she’d looked at him, the way her hand had felt against him. He may have picked up the life she threw on the floor, but she’d done a hell of a lot more for him.

On the spur of the moment, he took an old receipt out of his pocket, smoothing out the crumpled paper and grabbing a nearby pen. He scrawled his name and number on it and left it by the phone, turning to go before he could second guess himself. Leaving the hall lights on, he walked out and locked the door, the slip of paper he’d left behind staying as a last sign of hope.

-

The next morning, he groaned as he rolled out of bed, smoothing over his tousled hair and making his way into the bunker’s cold kitchen. Sam must’ve already been up and out, because there was a pre-made pot of coffee waiting for him. He smiled and grabbed it, pouring a cup. Looking over at the phone he’d left on the table last night, he raised his eyebrow when he noticed it was blinking. Grabbing it, he pressed play on the message, grinning even wider when he realized who it was from.

“Hey...I, um, I wanted to thank you for last night. You went above and beyond the random-guy-at-a-bar call of duty, and I will forever be grateful. I’ve been, uh, going through a rough time lately, as I’m sure you noticed, and I think you were exactly what I needed last night....Dean.” She paused, but he could hear the smile in her voice as she said his name. “I figured I’d go out last night and meet some boys who could take my mind off it, but you showed me the difference between a boy and a man. Thank you for being a man.” Another pause, this time a little longer. “Um...if you’re up to it, I’d really love to buy you a drink to show you how much it meant to me. Maybe something non-alcoholic this time,” she laughed. “Coffee? Let me know.”

He didn’t even let the message finish before he was redialing her number, his own cup of coffee long forgotten on the counter. He smiled into the phone as he waited for her to pick up, imagining the sound of her voice on the other end. 

He wasn’t sure what exactly would come from this, but he knew one thing: he’d never been so damn grateful to take a drunk girl home.

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Dean Tags- @akshi8278​ @whimsicalrobots​ @dean-winchesters-bacon​ @adoptdontshoppets​ @alexwinchester23​