#but please remember that youre not even old enough to drink. or maybe even drive and its not your responsibility to make sure people arent

[thegoodcultist]

Does it make anyone else Very very anxious when you go step into a discord server and there's admins/mods who are under 15? Especially if the topic of the server is a bit heavy?

[keikikait]

can you do something really angsty for rafe please. like one where they might not end up together:(

ᴅʀᴜɴᴋ ᴡᴀʟᴋ ʜᴏᴍᴇ (ʀᴀꜰᴇ ᴄᴀᴍᴇʀᴏɴ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ)

pairing: rafe cameron x kook!f!reader, (not au, both are early to mid 20s)

word count: 4.8k

summary: from the corner, at the party, you watch him

warnings: ANGST!!!!, pining/whipped reader, rafe & reader are friends, kook!reader & kook!rafe, drinking, not proofread

a note: yeah....yeah....

please reblog and like, it means a lot! let me know what you think!

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧

He’s never looked more beautiful. 

You bring the red solo cup to your lips, eye twitching and throat burning as you take a sip. It was foul, cheap vodka mixed with melted skittles, but it was getting you drunk, and that’s all that mattered. You felt like a creep, sitting in the corner of Barry’s living room, practically eye fucking Rafe as he stands in the kitchen, but you couldn’t help it. Your eyes naturally went to his figure, tracing the expanses of his toned arms. 

You wanted him.

You always have.

From the second you met him in elementary school, when you were around 6 years old, you’ve had a crush on Rafe. You remember that day like it was yesterday. You had just gotten new shoes that had laces instead of Velcro, and even though your mom had tied them for you in the morning, you were struggling to tie them yourself after they had come undone. Rafe had spotted you in the courtyard and expertly tied them himself before sticking his hand out towards you to shake, announcing his presence with the upmost confidence. Ward had been raising him to be a businessman, after all.

You fell for him immediately, and you fell hard. As your friendship grew, so did your feelings towards him. You had just moved to Kildare, and your parents had exclaimed that you would be best friends forever when you discovered that you were actually his next door neighbour. Through the trees you could just make out his bedroom window, and if he tried hard enough, he could see right into yours too. You spent the rest of your days wanting, needing, dying for him, hoping one day he would pick you over whatever girl of the week he was seeing. You wondered what it was like to be chosen. You were never chosen by Rafe. You were a maybe, a probably, sometimes even definitely, but never his first choice. 

You remember when he got his first actual girlfriend, April. You were 13, already head over heels in love with him, and were absolutely devastated when he sent you that text. You cried so hard you nearly threw up, yet your reply to him was a simple ‘Congrats!’. You knew that he didn’t like you back then, and that showing any type of jealousy would just drive a further wedge between you. He was already starting to pull away. He was dealing with so much at home that he was taking it out on everyone else at school, constantly screaming and yelling and throwing things. He needed the attention he wasn’t getting, and it seemed that the attention you were giving him wasn’t enough.

At 15, he got a new girlfriend, Lillian. They weren’t serious like how he was with April, but this was the first girl he had in a while that actually stuck around. Lillian didn’t like you, and you didn’t like her. She was, quite ironically, jealous, and was constantly reading your texts with Rafe. She purposely excluded you from parties and hangouts, doing everything in her power to get you away from Rafe. They only lasted seven months before Rafe dropped her, saying: ‘I’ve known her for a few months. I’ve known you my whole life. It’s a pretty easy choice.’

He didn’t get another girlfriend until he was 17, bordering on 18, when he met Jacquelyn. The daughter of one of Ward’s business partners, they were essentially a PR relationship, only hugging and holding hands during fancy black tie events. Jacquelyn was nice to you, nice enough, although you always had a feeling that she knew you loved Rafe. 

And it was hard not to love him. You had tried so many times over the years to just get a grip and move on, but something about him was so alluring. You had watched him grow, blossom into the most handsome man you’ve ever seen in your life, and it was hard not to fall for him. You had tried to gaslight yourself a few times into believing you were truly over him, climbed out of the hole you were stuck in, but the next time you hugged, and you got to bury your face into his chest, you fell right back down. He was the moon in your universe, and you were barely even a star.

Just as you had seen Rafe blossom, you had seen him shrivel up. Watching him get into drugs, alcohol, and violence was heart-wrenching, but he never listened to you. He said you didn’t get it, and you didn’t understand him, but when things got too much for him, or he got too drunk, he would always turn up on your porch, your favourite candy in hand as a figurative olive branch. And you accepted it every time, eagerly opening your arms to welcome him, revelling in the feeling of his whispered apologies in your ear. 

You were always the one he went to.

Until he met Sofia.

You didn’t want to hate Sofia, but you couldn’t help it. She had everything you wanted, and she was everything you wanted to be. She had Rafe, and she was Rafe’s. After Rafe heard of Ward’s death, Sofia is the one he went to, not you. You didn’t see him until weeks later at The Island Club, and as you tried to give him your condolences, she whisked him away. He left the room as quickly as he entered it, leaving only a waft of his cologne and a pit in your stomach in his wake.

She stole him away from you, constantly hanging on his arm and dragging away during parties. He never responded to you anymore, too busy spending time with her, taking her to some stupid boutique on the mainland or going with her to the beach when the UV was too high to resist. Did he rub sunscreen on her back? Did his hands ever slip under the bikini straps as he caressed her skin, did his hands ever wander around the front and slip underneath the cups?

Did you even want to know?

You had grown apart these last few months. You rarely saw him, even out on Kildare, and your conversations were few and far between. Even then, your feelings for him never faded. You would sit on the chair by your window, staring out towards his, wondering if just maybe you would catch a glimpse of him walking by. You felt, for lack of a better word, hollow without him. Rafe was one of your best friends, and after spending years together attached at the hip, you were suddenly missing your other half. It felt like a breakup, except you were never together in the first place. You were grieving a relationship that never even happened. 

You advert your eyes from Rafe, realising you’ve been staring for a bit, and go to take another sip, only to find your cup empty. You sigh, chewing on the inside of your lip as you look back up at the kitchen. His arm is slung around Sofia’s neck, his fingers absentmindedly rubbing at her collarbones as she leans against his chest, a smug look on her stupid pretty face as she sips on her hard seltzer.

You look back at the cup again. You needed more alcohol if you were going to stay sane at this party. You stand up, placing the pillow that was once in your lap on the chair before moving across the room towards the kitchen, manoeuvring through drunk Kooks and groping couples until you reached the linoleum.

‘It’s an open bar,’ Barry said, ‘Take whatever.’ so you didn’t feel weird about immediately digging through his liquor cabinet, pulling out the giant bottle of Everclear from the bottom shelf. You had only ever had Everclear one other time, and all you remember of the night was waking up face first in the sand with seaweed in your hair. You had promised yourself never again, but this night was different. You wanted to stay at this party and be with your friends, but you couldn’t bear to look at Rafe and Sofia sober.

Rafe’s thumb moves up to caress Sofia’s jaw as he watches you set the Everclear down on the kitchen counter. “Damn, already?”

Oh, shit. Was he talking to you? You look over, pursing your lips together. “Uh, yeah. Why not live a little, you know?”

“Yeah, yeah, I guess…” He mutters, dragging his thumb down Sofia’s neck. “You know that stuff is hella strong, right?”

Did he not remember that night? “I’m just gonna take one shot, dude.”

“Well, one shot can turn into two, then into four, then…” He trails off. “You know how you are after a few shots.”

You unscrew the Everclear and pour some into your solo cup. Your hands are shaking from the vodka you had before, and you dump in more than you had initially planned on. You screw the cap back on and slip it into the cabinet again before opening the fridge to grab a mixer. “I got it.”

He watches you pour, eyebrows raising when he sees the amount that flows into your cup, but he says nothing, simply continuing to caress the skin of Sofia’s jaw with his thumb. “Mhm, okay.”

Sofia looks between the two of you, sipping on her drink before speaking up, “You never drink like this.”

You don’t even fucking know me, you want to say, but you don’t. You shrug as you open a can of Cherry Coke and dump it into the solo cup before crushing it and tossing it into the recycling bin on the edge of the kitchen. “Just wanna try something new.”

“You could do that with literally anything. Everclear is not a good start,” He sighs, looking down at you. “One shot of that stuff will have you on your ass within the hour.”

You swirl the drink in your cup and shrug again as you leave the kitchen to go back to your spot. “We’ll see.” You glance at Rafe over your shoulder as you take a sip, moving back through the crowd.

It tasted disgusting. You felt the liquor burn all the way down to your stomach, your eyes watering slightly as you hold back a cough, but you keep drinking. You wanted to forget. You wanted to be drunk enough to not care about Rafe and Sofia. You sat back down without a word, grabbing the pillow you had left on the chair and putting it back on your lap. You watched the party from the corner, hesitating as you lift the cup to your lips and take another sip.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

The party gets too hot too quickly.

November was one of the cooler months in the Outer Banks and although the patio door was wide open, you were starting to sweat. The alcohol, mixed with your bubbling anxiety as you watched Rafe and Sofia, was causing you to start to squirm uncomfortably in your seat.

You hadn’t even finished your drink when you head outside, pushing through the crowd bottlenecked at the door, breathing a sigh of relief when you reach the pool area. Your shoulders droop as you start to relax, your skin starting to cool down. The loungers and seats are full, but the pool is empty, even though Barry had been promising everyone it was heated. There were a few Kooks sitting on the edge of the hot tub, their feet in the water, beer cans littering the surrounding ground.

You look around, biting the inside of your lip. You start to move, looking around the expansive backyard before finding a small concrete bench pressed up against an old out of use fountain full of leaves and dried algae. You brush some of the leaves off and sit down, a small noise escaping your mouth at how fucking cold it is. You zip up your jacket, sitting cross-legged as you try to get as comfortable as possible. 

You continue to people watch, taking some brief moments to look up at the stars.

It’s peaceful, and you’re grateful for the silence. The sound from the house is still audible, but it’s muffled enough from being out in the yard. You watch the Kooks in the hot tub, noticing a couple of them starting to kiss.

You were grateful to be out of there.

You were grateful not to be looking at Rafe and Sofia. You couldn’t stop your mind from wandering back to the kitchen. Rafe’s hands on Sofia’s hips. Him burying his nose in her hair. The soft kisses they exchanged every time they thought you weren’t looking. It made your stomach turn.

You look up at the clear night sky, shivering as a breeze passes, brushing the stray hairs that escaped your low bun away from your face. You could see Orion, you could see the moon, you could even see some stars you didn’t know the name of. They manage to distract you for a long time, so long that you don’t even remember how long you’ve been sitting there.

You feel something heavy being placed on your shoulders, the weight startling you. You turn around, ready to snap at whoever had disturbed your solitude, but you're met by Rafe. He's wearing only a t-shirt, his own jacket in his hands. “Couldn't let you freeze to death sitting out here alone.”

“I have a jacket,” You say. It’s true, your jacket was keeping you warm, and a large part of you felt bad that Rafe was trying to give his up. “Keep yours.” As you stop dissociating, your fingers and toes suddenly feel stiff. You move the cup to your other hand, clenching and stretching your fingers.

He ignores your protest, draping his jacket over your shoulders anyway, even going as far as to zip it up under your chin. “No arguments. You looked like a baby deer sitting here shivering.”

His cologne smells so good. It smells like home. “Thanks.” Your eyes follow him as he sits next to you on the bench, beer bottle in hand.

“No problem,” Rafe looks out, his knee brushing your leg as he turns to check out the backyard, eyes scanning the Kooks in the hot tub as he takes a sip of his beer. After a moment, he turns back to you, eyebrows furrowing as he notices your drink. “You didn’t finish that.” he nods towards the cup in your hand.

“No, it’s uh…” You clear your throat and sit up straight. “It’s disgusting. Guess Everclear and Cherry Coke don’t mix.”

He snickers, “Told you so,” He takes another sip of his beer, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he looks at you. “You shouldn’t drink that stuff anyway. I’ve seen people go down quick after only one shot. Not pretty.”

“Eh. Wanted to try something new.” You say, swirling it around in the cup.

“Yeah, well, don’t go drinking Everclear again. I’m not gonna hold your hair back while you’re puking,” He gives you another once over, eyes lingering on your face. “You don’t look very good.”

You weren’t doing good. Not at all. You were trying to live your life without Rafe around, even just as a friend, and it was proving to be a very difficult task. It was so hard to not immediately rush to text him, or to send him a million TikToks throughout the day. You missed him, as much as it pained you to admit. You shrug. “Just kinda tired. Didn’t sleep well.”

He notices the change in your demeanour instantly, the walls that he was so used to seeing come down were up now. You were shutting him out. “You gotta stop staying up late on your phone, then.” he elbows you playfully, hoping to get you to laugh, like old times.

You don’t.

You awkwardly look back down at your drink and swirl it again. You had thought that maybe this unwelcomed distance would do you good, and you would eventually fall out of love with him, but it seems to get harder and harder every day. You just wanted to hold him one last time. You needed him back then, and you needed him still. You let out a breath. “Yeah. Probably.”

He stays silent, taking another sip from his beer as he looks back out to the yard. There was a tension in the air now, but he wasn’t sure if it was all in his head. You seemed…distant. Shut off. He was so used to your bright personality, your happy demeanour, your laugh. Now, you were just…blank. His knee bumps yours again as he shifts. He looked back over at you, watching you for a long time. You were just staring straight, avoiding his gaze.

You clear your throat again, setting your cup down beside you. You unzip his jacket and stand up as you slide it off, trying to avoid his gaze as you drape it over his shoulders. “I’m gonna head back inside.”

Rafe catches your wrist as you start to move away, fingers gentle, but firm, almost reluctant to let you go. His eyes meet yours immediately, holding your gaze captive as he looks at you. “Wait.”

“What?” You ask, picking your drink back up with your free hand.

“We…” he trails off, his thumb rubbing the sensitive skin of your inner wrist as he looks at you. It was cold outside, but your skin was so warm against his. It felt so natural. Like everything was right again. He didn’t ever realise how much he had missed you until now. “We need to talk.”

You try to pull your wrist away. “About what?”

He lets the grasp on your wrist loosen, but he doesn’t let go, his touch trailing down until his fingers are laced with yours. “About this…distance…” he motions vaguely between you two, “That you’ve been building for the past couple of months.”

“That I’ve been building?” You ask, your eyebrows raising. “You’re the one who’s been ignoring me.”

“Not on purpose. I’ve been busy.” he says defensively, almost immediately. He’d be lying if he didn’t say that he had been busy lately. Sofia had been keeping him on his toes lately, and he hadn’t had much time alone during the day, let alone time alone in his own home. But he also couldn’t deny that he had been purposefully avoiding you, knowing that if he spent too much time with you, Sofia would have something to say about it.

“Maybe I’ve been busy too.” You say, although it’s a lie. 

Rafe snorts, almost calling you out on the lie, but he lets it go with a sigh. He doesn’t say anything for a long time, just looking at you. His thumb rubs slow circles on the inside of your palm, the touch familiar. It hurt his chest. “I don’t like this.”

“Don’t like what?” You ask, crossing your arms over your chest.

“This,” He gestures between you and him. “This distance. I don’t like it,” He looks away, a frustrated expression on his face. “We’re friends. We’ve known each other for years. Why do you act like I can’t even approach you anymore?”

Friends. You never hated a word more. You take a step back, sighing as you glance out over the pool again. “Sometimes friends drift apart, Rafe.”

He looks at you, his jaw clenched as he watches you avoid his gaze once again. You wouldn’t even look at him. It was infuriating. He couldn’t believe that you were so nonchalant about all of this. Friends drift apart. That’s what you said. Did he have to mean so little? His hand falls back to his side, but the expression on his face stays fixed. “Bullshit.”

“You’re busy, I’m busy,” You say. “Sometimes that happens.”

“I’m only busy with Sofia,” He snaps, frustration seeping through in his voice. He takes a step towards you, eyes narrowed. “And even when I’m busy with her, I still manage to find time-” He stops himself, taking a moment to slow his breathing. He was getting too worked up. The last thing he needed right now was to blow up at you.

You chug the rest of your drink and set the empty solo cup on the bench, immediately regretting it. You should’ve dumped it out a while ago. The last thing you needed was a drunk walk home. “We’ve both been busy. That’s it, Rafe.”

“That’s it?” He repeats, looking at you incredulously. He couldn’t believe you were so blasé about this. About you guys practically ignoring each other, never talking, practically avoiding each other every chance you got. Was it so simple to you? To forget years of friendship over something so idiotic like being busy? “You’re bullshitting me.”

You hated this feeling. Your heart ached, and your hands went numb, your body full of tingles. You take a few more steps back. You had to do it, you had to rip the band-aid off if you wanted to finally move on. You didn’t want your happiness to live and die with him. “Maybe this friendship thing isn’t working anymore.”

It felt like you had stabbed him straight in the chest, twisted the blade, and then pulled it out slowly, painfully. Every word that you spat out felt like another layer of pain. It was bullshit. You had been by his side through everything. You were always there. He trusted you more than anyone. And this was how you felt now? You didn’t want to be friends? Rafe clenched his jaw, biting back the sting of emotion. “You’re not serious.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Rafe.” You say.

“I want you to tell me that you still give a damn about our friendship!” he says, a frustrated tone in his voice.  “I want you to tell me that this distance is bullshit and that I still mean something to you! That you still want to hang out and talk and everything else I thought we’d still be doing when we got older, and that I’m just reading into this too much! I want you to tell me that you’re just busy, and it’ll all get better in a little bit, because I can’t handle this anymore.”

“Rafe--” You try to speak, but he cuts you off.

He was getting more worked up now, his chest heaving as he stares at you. He had never felt like this before. You always knew how to calm him down from whatever fit he was throwing, but you weren’t doing that now. He takes a step closer, getting into your personal space now, anger evident in his eyes. “Do you even care about me anymore, or are you just pretending you do whenever I’m around? Do you hate me now?”

You would probably still adore him with his hands around your neck. “No, of course I don’t hate you.”

“Then why are you doing this to me?” He demands, his tone a mix of anger and desperation. He was getting louder, but he didn’t care. For once, he wanted to let his emotions out, knowing that they would be safe with you. “Why are you acting like this?” He gestures between you, “You’re shutting me out, and you’re pulling away, and you can’t even look me in the eye without flinching. Why? Tell me why.”

“Because I like you, Rafe!” You blurt out. Your eyes widen slightly when you realise what you said. You let out a shaky breath. “I like you a lot. More than I should. And seeing you with her, with Sofia… it’s so hard for me.”

He stares at you for a moment, stunned into silence by your confession. 

You liked him.

A lot?

More than you should.

His jaw clenched, his mind trying to process everything as he sits back down. He had suspected that you liked him more than a friend for a long time, but he had never dared to try and confirm it. The words were out in the open now, though. And it changed everything.

You hate how silent he’s being. Your voice is shaky when you start to speak again, “And I know that you don’t feel the same way about me. I know that, and I’m okay with that.”

He lets out an almost bitter laugh, running a hand through his hair. The sound is harsh in the air, like a slap in the face. “That’s what you think? You think I don’t have feelings for you?” His voice was quiet, but there was something in it that made it even more threatening than if he was yelling.

“I know you don’t.” You say softly, tears starting to well in your eyes. You weren’t stupid. You knew from day dot that he would never feel the same way that you do, and you always knew that he would never be yours, but it was never enough to help you finally move on. 

For the first time in Rafe’s life, he struggles with what to say. It takes him a few seconds to find the words he's looking for. “Jesus Christ, are you kidding me? We’re not romantic or anything, we’re just friends.”

“I know that.” You say.

“We’re just friends.” He says again, as if you didn’t hear him the first time.

Your stomach hurts. “I know.”

He looks away from you, standing up from the bench. “How long have you liked me?”

“Since the day we met,” You say. “When you tied my shoe for me.”

He runs his hand through his hair again. “And you never said anything.” It’s a statement, not a question, and it stings.

“There was no point,” You say. “I knew even back then that you would never feel the same way.”

He doesn’t know what to do. You’re right, he doesn’t feel the same way. He doesn’t like you the way you like him. At least he thinks he doesn’t. He stays quiet, his fists clenching.

“I don’t want to ignore you, Rafe,” You continue. “But maybe this distance will be good for us. I’ll be able to get over you.”

“You shouldn’t have fallen for me in the first place.” He snaps.

It takes you by surprise. Your eyes flutter for a second as tears start to fall, and you take a step back, chest clenching.

He stares at you, his stomach lurching as the first of the tears roll down your face. He stays silent for a moment, before finally sighing. “It’s not supposed to be this way,” He walks towards you again, reaching out to take both of your hands, trying to stop you from backing away from him. “You’re supposed to be my best friend, not some girl in love with me.”

“I’m sorry.” You say.

“Stop apologising,” He says, holding your wrists tightly, like he’s trying to keep you in place. “I hate it when you do that.”

You almost apologise again. You just nod, looking down at your feet before moving your gaze back over to the pool. No one has noticed you two yet.

He follows your gaze, looking towards the pool. No one had even spared a glance in your direction. It was just you and him, secluded in the quiet corner, surrounded by a party that seemed a mile away. He doesn’t know what to say, or how to react to your confession. All he knows is that he still hates seeing you cry.

“Do you still want to be friends?” You ask quietly, looking up at him.

Rafe hesitates. 

His first instinct is to push you away. To tell you that it would be best if you two just never spoke to each other again, that things would be better that way. But he knew he didn’t mean that. And when he looked down at you, seeing the heartbreak on your face, he knew he couldn’t say it. He wasn’t the best at expressing his feelings, and he had no idea what he was doing, but you were his oldest friend. You had been by his side through everything. There was no way he was pushing you away that easily.

He pulls you into a hug, pressing his nose into the crown of your head. “Of course, I still want to be friends,” he murmurs. “You’re my best friend, you idiot.”

You hug him back, and it feels so good to finally hold him again. You interlock your fingers behind his back. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise,” he mutters, resting his chin on the top of your head. “Stop apologising.” He stays silent for a moment, soaking in the feeling of being able to hold you again. He had missed this. He had missed you more than he had ever realised.

You stay there for a while, nose buried in his chest, before you speak again. Your voice is quiet, muffled against his jacket, but he can hear you loud and clear. “I love you.”

Rafe sighs, pushing your hair away from your forehead before placing a kiss on it. “It’ll pass.”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧

part two is here!

★taglist: @ietss, @momoewn, @blairsblg, @teenwolfbitches28, @dasia21, @drewsphswife, @gilwm, @watchmerora, @odairtrqsh, @wearemadeofstardust0, @rafesbabygirlx, @slumnit, @babygirlwilly, @rafeyswife, @maybanksgirl69, @evermorx89, @ivy-34, @marlenee3e, @koibleufish (italics means i couldn’t tag you!)

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[loveesiren]

Mile High Club - R.C.

Rafe Cameron x Reader

Summary: Y/n and Rafe get a much needed vacation but they can't even wait until they land to begin. (Please ready Baby Daddy parts one & two first!)

Warnings: Smut, nursing kink, language

Word Count: 1.4k+

You'd never been on a plane before. Taking off made you nervous but Rafe held your hand the entire time and soon enough your face was lit up in awe as you watched the world below you from the window.

Juliette was only four months old. Convincing you and Rafe to go on a trip, let alone take a break, was a challenge.

"Nope. Absolutely not. I'm not leaving my daughter." Rafe argued with his parents, bouncing Juliette on his knee.

"You two never do anything for yourselves. You guys deserve some time alone." Ward said, Rose nodding beside him.

"You guys are exhausted. Just take a few days, go to the Bahama house. We'll take care of Jules." Rose added.

You looked over at Rafe and your baby. Rafe's lips were pressed in a thin line at the thought of being away from his daughter. Jules smiled up at her dad, the sight melted your heart. You couldn't imagine being away from your daughter either but some time alone with Rafe did sound really nice.

"I don't know, babe...maybe we should. Just for a few days?" You suggest, running your fingernails over his bicep.

It took some convincing but Rafe finally agreed to three days in the Bahamas. The two of you were practically thrown out of Tannyhill so John B could drive you to the airport. Going back to give Juliette more and more kisses, making sure she had everything she needed, promising to Facetime multiple times a day.

Ward and Rose laughed. You were first time parents, a feeling they remember all too well but they assured you Juliette would be fine and happy with her grandparents and aunts.

Now you were flying high in first class, sipping champagne and snuggling up to your boyfriend as you watched the clouds go by. You both agreed to try to relax and not worry. Ward and Rose raised three kids and with Sarah, Wheezie, and John B all happy to help, you knew your daughter was in good hands.

You shifted uncomfortably as your breasts started to ache.

"You okay, baby?" Rafe asked, pressing his lips to your temple.

"Yeah, just gotta pump." You tell him, reaching for your bag to grab what you need before unbuckling your seatbelt to head to the bathroom.

Rafe has a shit eating grin on his face.

"What?" You ask.

"Can I help?" He asks, licking his bottom lip.

"Rafe, we're on a plane." You whisper.

"Mhmm," He hums, leaning into you to speak against your lips. "And I need to help my baby momma out." He presses a soft kiss to your lips and grabs your hand, pulling you to the back of the cabin to where the bathroom was located. He quickly opened the door, pushing you inside gently and quickly closing the door behind the two of you before anyone could notice.

He grabs your hips and lifts you onto the bathroom counter. The bathroom was small, Rafe wasn't able to stand up fully but that didn't matter as he was leaning down to press kisses to your jaw.

"Rafe-"

"Don't need this," He muttered, tossing your breast pump to the side. You were nervous, you didn't want to get caught doing this in an airplane bathroom but you couldn't deny the heat growing between your thighs.

He tugged at the hem of your tan top, lifting it off over your head and tossing it to the side before fiddling with the clasp of your bra, placing wet kisses over your skin.

"Fuck, Rafe..."

"Keep saying my name, baby." He demanded, letting your breasts free. "Shit..." He whispered, palming your swollen breasts.

"Rafe, I n-need you to-" You muttered, hooded eyes as you leaned your head back against the mirror.

Rafe didn't hesitate to latch onto your nipple, drinking from you harshly as he massaged your other breast.

You sighed in relief as he sucked. This nursing kink of his had become a common thing. Ever since he helped you out that first time he just couldn't get enough. You found yourself reminding him that you had a child to feed as well. But you had to admit, this was way more enjoyable than pumping.

You wrapped your fingers in his hair, digging your nails into his scalp as his fingers trailed down your body. He lifted your skirt and moved your panties to the side, slowly running a soft finger against your dripping core.

"Please," You whispered against his ear.

Rafe sucked harder as he plunged two fingers into you. You yelped at the sensation and he quickly brought his other hand up to cover your mouth. You arched your back beneath him, grinding against his fingers.

He finished draining you and quickly moved to your other breast, pumping his fingers into you harder and bringing his thumb to rub circles in your clit. You could feel him growing hard against your thigh and you knew as soon as he was done nursing, he'd be fucking you in this tiny airplane bathroom.

Your eyes rolled back as the knot in your stomach built up. Rafe hummed against your nipple as you came on his fingers. "Good girl..." He whispered against your skin and you were grateful for his hand over your mouth because you couldn't control your moans.

"Feel better, my love?" He asked as he finished drinking from you.

You smiled and nodded as you came down from your high. "Thank you," You whisper breathlessly.

"Wanna join the Mile High Club?" Rafe smirks, leaning in to kiss you.

You stared at him through hooded eyes and smiled, nodding your head eagerly.

"Use your words, mama," He says.

"Yes. Please, Rafe..."

Rafe smiles before grabbing your hips and pulling you from the counter, turning you around so you could watch him fuck you from behind.

He ripped your panties down and palmed your ass, spanking you roughly. You yelped once again.

"You gotta be quiet for me, mama," He says. "Don't wanna get caught, do you?" He asks, placing wet kisses down your back.

"I'll try," You whine.

Rafe thrusts into you and you try to stifle your moan, but he was hungry for you. This wasn't like the normal love making you were used to back home. This was new and exciting. It reminded you of when the two of you first got together. All the late nights of Rafe fucking you like his own personal whore. The way you ended up pregnant in the first place. The way you fucked before you fell in love with him.

Rafe pounded into you roughly, biting into your skin to control his own grunting. You hadn't realized you were being loud until he once again clasped a hand over your mouth.

You gripped the sink tightly, tears threatening to spill from your eyes. You hadn't been fucked like this in so long. You looked in the mirror, meeting Rafe's feral eyes as he tried not to cum yet. But you knew he was close, and so were you. With the way his skin slapped against yours, the wet sounds of your pussy filling the small room, you couldn't hold on much longer. Then, turbulence hit and it had you bouncing against him harder, sending you over the edge.

You began to vibrate as you clenched around his cock, sending Rafe into his own high. You felt him spill inside you and the feeling was euphoric. The last year and a half you'd spent with this man had you falling more inlove every day.

"Fuck, baby girl...I can never get enough of you." Rafe said, leaning against your shoulder as you both tried to catch your breath. "I'm gonna fuck you in every room of this house, and on the beach, and in the plane home, too."

You bit your lips at his promise. The thought of having Rafe to yourself for three whole days excited you. No crying, no tending to a teething baby at 2am, no siblings barging in on you. Just you and Rafe Cameron. This was a dream.

Rafe helped you clean up and get back into your clothes. You both hurriedly fixed your hair in the mirror before sneaking out of the bathroom and heading back to your seats. You noticed one of the flight attendants staring at you with a knowing look. You avoided her gaze but Rafe proudly slung his arm over your shoulder, smile wide on his face, completely satisfied with his life in this moment.

Tags: @torturedtypewritersdept @bigenergy777 @outerbankspov @purplerose291 @shayofandoms @mirellef2001

[miniwheat77]

Guard Dog. (Captain Price x Reader.)

!nsfw, violence, blood, wounds, brief mention of alcohol, talk of SA, unprotected p in v sex, Minors DNI!

“You know this is stupid right?” Gaz scoffs.

“Why’s that?”

“Getting into fights over the old man. It’s ridiculous.” He shakes his head. “This is like the 3rd time this week I’ve had to vouch for you over him, you seriously have to tell him how you feel or give up on it. This can’t keep happening. I mean she split your lip open today. It needs stitches. And god only knows what she looks like. I mean you’re a girl just like she is but you pack a much harder punch Y/N.” He sighs, he’s driving you to an urgent care. The simple bowling trip you had taken had turned into something much worse when you had run into some newer recruits to 141. One of them had said something slick about your captain, you can’t even remember what now. The blow you took to the face helped you forget.

You’re not sure what it is but people always seemed to have something to say about him. How he was an asshole, hard on everyone. This or that. You just couldn’t handle it anymore, not when you seen what you saw in him. He was so fucking kind. Always trying so hard, always trying to do the right thing. Looking out for his team. It’s all he ever did. And they still had something negative to say about him. It was infuriating.

Just how long could you even take this.

———

“Uh.. I’ll do a Jack and Coke please.” You ask. Words already slurring. The bartender nods and starts working on it. “Oh and uh.. tequila sunrise for her.” You nod over to Sarah. “Hey Y/N.” The familiar voice has you smiling. “Hey Lori. How you doing?” You ask. “I’m good.” She smiles. “You?”

“I’m great. Never better.” You laugh. “Still apart of 141?” She asks. “Yeah.”

She shakes her head. “I finally had enough, had to transfer to another base.” You tilt your head, confused. “What? Why?”

“Just couldn’t handle Captain Price anymore.” She sighs. Your hair stands up and you can feel yourself going into defense mode. The bartender sets your drinks down and you pay her, tipping her more than you intend, you’re sure how this is about to go. She deserves it for the trouble you’re sure to cause. “Really? I like him, he’s by far the best captain I’ve had.” You mumble, bringing the drink up to your lips. “No. I couldn’t handle him. Like.. he’s an asshole, hard on you no matter what. Everything I did was wrong.” She smiles, looking down. “Thought about lying and saying he was touching me to get a different captain on 141.” She winks. Your face goes hard. “I’m just joking of course.”

“Yeah… I hope so. I wouldn’t go around bragging about that.” You mumble. “It was just a joke. Don’t take it so hard.” She rolls her eyes. You know how this is about to go. “Yeah, maybe next time you see me in public you just walk on by.” You grab the drinks but she grasps you by your shoulder. “You’re fucking him aren’t you?” She scoffs. She’s got a laugh hidden behind it. “Actually, no.”

“Oh, you’re his guard dog? Or you just want to fuck him? Yeah I’m sure you do, but maybe look somewhere else in 141 because he’s old and a fucking pri-“ you set the drinks down while she talks and don’t give her the chance to finish, your fist crashing into her jaw, sending her back. A crowd forms immediately, Sarah, the girl off base you had come with rushes up to the bar where you’re on top of her. Swing after swing until she’s no longer fighting back but blocking your face. She sees a guy come forward, his fist coming down onto the back of your head and you draw away, holding onto your head. Another guy shoves him back and starts swinging. Yelling about how he doesn’t hit a woman. She grabs you by the jacket and shoves you back.

Someone else helps Lori and the 4 of you get shoved outside by the bouncers. They’re yelling for you to leave before they call the cops.

“You fucking bitch! Why would you sucker punch me like that?!”

“Cause you fucking deserve it! And you better keep your mouth shut or I’ll tell about how you like to lie about sexual assault too!” Your voice is slurred. She goes quiet after that, the person she had come with walks away. “Shit. How hard did that guy hit you?” Sarah asks. “Pretty hard but he had fucking brass knuckles on.” You hiss, yanking your arms away from her.

Pretty soon a bunch more people come spilling out, the guy who had hit you is barely walking now. Clearly having gotten his ass beat despite having brass knuckles on his hands still. You start yelling obscenities at him and Sarah has to pull you back further. You’re drunk and pissed off now, a bad combo.

“Sit the fuck down and keep this on the back of your head. We’re going to the ER damnit.” She hisses, pushing the cloth into the back of your head. You’re unsure of when she had snagged it. Mumbling as you sit with your head hanging. “Not going to the fucking ER.” You roll your eyes. “Take me to base”

She shushes you and puts the phone up to her ear.

“Hey uh.. Soap?” She says it into the phone. You try to stand up, trying to stop her but she pushes you back down. “Sarah? What’s up?” She hears his tired voice come across the phone. “We uh.. well.” She laughs. “We drank a little too much and some stuff happened. We could use a ride.” She mumbles. “What happened? Is everyone okay?”

“Well. I’m trying to tell Y/N to go to the ER but she won’t listen, so I figured if I get her back to base maybe you or someone else could convince her.” She laughs.

“What’s going on? Is she okay?” Soap stands up quickly. This wakes Ghost up in his bed across the room. “Can you please just get here? We’re on the corner of 5th and 8th NW. Oh and whatever you do. Do not tell Captain Price.” She says.

He sets the phone down with a sigh. Sliding his boots on and grabbing his keys. This is the first time he’s ever gotten a call from her for the both of you, but he’s owed you one. The both of you coming to his rescue a time or two. “What’s wrong Johnny?” Ghost asks. “Uh.. apparently something happened at the bar downtown and Y/N and Sarah need a ride.” He mumbles. “I’ll come with. Give me a minute.” He worries as he creeps out of his shared base room with Ghost.

“Alright.” He hesitates outside and curses himself when Captain Price happens to be passing by, coming off of watch. “Soap, something going on?” He asks. “Uh..” he hesitates. “Y/N and Sarah need a ride from the bar so we’re going to get them.” He mumbles. Captain Price nods. “Mind if I tag along? I could use a drink.” He smiles. Soap knows he’s caught now. “Uhhh…” he hesitates. Ghost sighs. “Just tell him Johnny.”

Soap groans. “Something happened and Y/N needs to go to the ER but they wouldn’t say what for.” He mumbles. “You’ve got to be joking.” He sighs. “Well. What’re we waiting for? Let’s go.” He takes off walking down the corridor and Johnny beats himself up. Sarah is gonna be so pissed.

Price hops into his truck. Soap decides to take his car as well just in case. Ghost rides with him.

They meet at the bar, they’re all familiar with the area, having been to the bar a time or two. They pull up to the curb and see Sarah waiting outside with you.

Soap arrives first and gives Sarah enough time to complain. “What is he doing here Soap?” She seethes. “He overheard Sarah. Not my choice.” He mumbles back. You have your head lowered, a towel against the back.

“The hell happened? What’s going on?” Your Captain asks as he approaches.

“Uh.. well.”

“Fucking- stupid fucking bitch. Who brings brass knuckles to the bar and still loses the fight.”

They can barely make out what you’re saying your words are so slurred.

Captain Price kneels to see the damage, moving the towel for a second. “Oh shit!” He mumbles. Putting it back immediately. “Jesus, that’s a massive gash. She’s going to the hospital.” He breathes. “No! I’m fine.” You finally look up and that’s when they see the already bruised eye you’ve got. A busted lip and blood rushing down your face. “Fucks sake.” Captain Price. “Come on, I’ll take her to the ER.”

“No!” You start flailing the moment he helps you up.

He lowers you for just a second. Voice clear and daring as he says it.

“If you don’t relax and do as I say, I will have you running laps at 4am for weeks.” He seethes. You sigh. You give in, he carries you to his truck.

“Take Sarah to base.” He calls to Soap. He buckles you in and climbs into the drivers seat, pulling off of the curb in a hurry.

“She’s so dead.” Sarah mumbles to Soap. “Yeah? You are too.” He laughs.

“The hell were you thinking? You could’ve gotten yourself fucking killed tonight Y/N.” Price sighs. You scoff. “None of your business. You weren’t supposed to even be here.” Your words are still slurred. He tries not to get mad, knowing that you’re just drunk. “What did you even get into a fight over?” He asks.

You go quiet almost immediately. “Y/N?”

He glances over at you, seeing the way you’ve frozen up.

“I.. it..” you look away. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Tell me.” He’s stern.

“Because of you, okay?”

“What?”

You groan. “Because. That stupid blonde girl that used to be on our base was there and she was saying shit about you alright?”

Hearing that you’d gotten into a fight with another soldier has hair rising on his skin. This was not good.

“What did she say?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“The hell is going on with you? You don’t act like this.”

“I’ll tell you when I’m sober alright?”

John’s head spins, he didn’t know what the hell was going on. You got into a fight over him, with one of his previous recruits? The hell was going on here.

He gets you to the hospital without another word shared between the two of you.

It’s hours later when you’re allowed to go home. You get into his truck, sober now. You’ve got fresh staples in your head and couple glued wounds on your face. They had to bring an officer in and take down a description of who attacked you and what he attacked you with since it was considered a deadly weapon in the state you were currently living in. “Alright, time to talk.” He sighs. “What on earth could she have said to warrant such a reaction out of you? I know you. You’re not like this.”

You laugh. Looking over at him.

“Alright but if I tell you, you can’t interrupt. You let me get every bit of this off of my chest and you don’t respond until I’m done.” You look at him, still parked in the parking garage of the hospital. He nods. Getting nervous because this seemed serious.

You sigh. Looking away from him, you start. “I have feelings for you. I have since we started that mission in Afghanistan. The first time I met you, yeah. Whatever. That girl, started in about you. She started it. I mean completely and totally saying some of the foulest things I’ve ever heard. She didn’t like you, she’s wanted to do this or that, accuse you of… of touching her to get you fired.” You pause with a sigh. “And than when I took your side she accused me of fucking you. Called you old and shit.” You shake your head. He’s looking at you, stunned. “So I just lost it okay? I lost it and I swung first. She hit me once in the face and then when I was on her some dude she was with hit me in the back of the head but he had brass knuckles on.” You finish.

“And it’s not out of the ordinary because it’s not the first fight I’ve gotten into over you, it’s the only one you know about.” You mumble.

“That’s it, that’s everything.” You sigh. He’s silent for a while. Thinking of what exactly to say to you. “How many fights have you gotten into over me?” He asks. “Several. Gaz takes me to Urgent Care all the time.” You mumble. After that, he’s silent.

When he still says nothing, you turn to the window. Clearly regretting your admission. “I know it was stupid.. I know that I shouldn’t hav-“

“Y/N?” He asks. “What?” You look at him. He throws the truck in Drive and pulls out of the parking garage. “You can’t fight every single person over me just because you like me.”

You shake your head. “It’s not that. It’s not just that I like you. It’s because you’re the best captain and the best superior I’ve ever worked for alright?”

He says nothing. It’s silent for the rest of the ride.

When you get to base, you get out of his truck. Assuming you’ll get booted off of the base in no time at your admission. About to lose your spot in the best task force you’ve ever been apart of all because of your stupid brain. He says nothing, letting you go. The others don’t hear you come in.

Sarah spots you but doesn’t show herself, only walking out of her room when she sees him follow you inside a few minutes later. “Is she okay?” she asks.

“She’s fine, no concussion.”

She nibbles at her lip. “Captain..” she starts. “Did she.. did she tell you anything?” She asks. “What do you mean?” He looks unimpressed. “About.. maybe how she feels about you? Or anything?” He laughs, looking down at the ground. “Yes she did. She told me about all the fights. All that.” He mumbles. “Oh.. good. I’m sorry about tonight, it caught us all off guard.” She says. “I’ll take any punishment you’re going to give.”

“No. I’m letting you off with a warning and putting Y/N on an extra watch for a couple weeks because she was the aggressor tonight.” He sighs. She nods her head. “Thank you Captain.” She whispers. “Go to bed now.” He nods. She smiles sadly and closes the door. She feels for you.

The next morning, you’re up and sitting in the mess hall. You’re not eating anything but you’re drinking coffee. You’re the first one awake.

“Why you awake lass?” Soap asks. “Head hurts.” You mumble. “Obviously. What’d they do to you? Stitches?” He asks. “Staples.” You huff. “Ouch. He must’ve got you good.” He laughs. “Cheap shot but I probably deserved it.” You laugh. Captain Price walks into the mess hall and it’s Soaps cue to leave.

He gets coffee and sits in front of you. You say nothing.

“I’m putting you on watch for a couple weeks, an extra one.” He mumbles. “Ten to one in the morning.” He says. “Yes sir.” He’s surprised you don’t fight but you never have before. Last night was a different side of you he’s never seen.

You stand up, grabbing your coffee and walking away. He sighs to himself. “She’s got it bad, Cap.” Gaz laughs. He’d walked inside after you. “Yeah, yeah she does. Apparently everyone but me saw it.” He chuckles. “Yeah, it’s very obvious. Just watch her.” He laughs. Price shakes his head.

Later that night, you make your way up the stairs to the watch tower. You expect anyone else but freeze when you see him.

He notices but doesn’t say anything. “Um.. here to take over.” You mumble. “No. I just took over for Soap. Have a seat.” He nods toward the other chair. You obey immediately. Something you’ve always done. He’d been thinking to himself for a few minutes before you came up. About how you always had those marks on your face. Black eyes, split lips. Busted knuckles. He saw it but never asked, and a time or two when he did, you said it was an accident from sparring. How much he’d truly missed, he’d asked around about it and it was a lot. He feels like a bad captain. For not asking and not noticing.

It’s quiet the first few days on watch with him. He checks up on you, asks you to look into a flashlight. Makes sure you don’t have a concussion or anything.

As you start healing and spending more time together. He sees you. Your smile is amazing, your laugh is unmatched. You really start to open up to him. Telling him about yourself and stories on missions. Listening and laughing when he tells you some of his own. You’re easy to talk to.

He’d just finished one, a story. You were laughing. Turning away from him. He’s smiling too. He starts to notice the little scars on your face and hands. Your knuckles are scarred and you have a couple scars across your lip. A couple that scatter your face. Cheekbone, brow bone, the bridge of your nose. It makes him sad, because those are there permanently. Because of him.

He sighs. “You’re a real nice girl, you know that?” He says it before he can stop himself. “Makes me wonder what it is you see in me.” He mumbles. Your smile falters as soon as he says it and he feels bad for ruining the mood. “I’m just an old man, and they’re right. I can be a real prick.” He laughs.

You shake your head, a tiny smile hints at your lips.

“You’re hard on people because you care about them. Your harshest moments are when you’re most scared, when people do stupid things that endanger themselves or others. You never yell or get mad unless you have a reason. Usually to reprimand or correct someone for putting themselves in harms way. You care about people. And you’re… respectful and calm and reassuring. When you see us going through our own shit, you send us home or send us back to base when we’re not feeling it. You try your hardest for us and that’s what I see.” You mumble. “I don’t see what everyone else does. I don’t think the things you do have any kind of malicious intent.”

He looks down at his entwined hands. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” He sighs. “But Y/N.” He looks at you. “You can’t keep getting into fights and stuff over this, alright? People will say what they want to say. They’ll do what they want to do.” He shakes his head. “Trust me, it’s hard but you have to be the bigger person and walk away.” You nod your head. “I know.” Your nose burns and tears fill your eyes. Why are you about to cry? “I’m sorry, Captain. I’m not trying to let you down.” He can hear it in your voice that you’re getting upset.

“You’re not letting me down. You’re a great soldier and you’re a good girl. This is just.. a lesson.” He laughs. “I have to go to the bathroom.” You mumble. You stand up, going for the door.

You grasp the door handle.

When it opens a crack, he pushes it shut with his hand above your head. You gasp as it slams back shut, seeing his hand over your head. “What are you doing?” You ask.

You turn to look at him, but don’t expect him to be so close. Grasping your chin and lifting your face to look at him. “You know, out on the field.” He starts. “I pair you and I together, because I don’t feel that others will watch you as close as I do. I watch you like a hawk, I’ve killed over you. Do you know that?” He stares into your eyes. You shake your head. “Think about it for a second darling, go on.” He nods. He rests his entire forearm on the door just above your head. His sleeve presses into the top of your head. He’s insanely close to you.

There’s one scenario he needs you to remember.

When you remember it, you look up at him with wide eyes. “You… killed him because of me?” You ask. You don’t remember it well but well enough. The only time you’d ever seen Captain Price angry like that on the field. He surrendered even, but it didn’t matter. You told your captain you’d keep it to yourself after the fact. The list of secrets you’d been keeping for him kept growing.

“He commented on how pretty you looked. Said that when they got their hands on you…” he pauses. “Wouldn’t let it happen. But you know that.” He laughs. “Wasn’t the first time I’ve killed over you and I’m sure it won’t be the last. Not with how savage and ruthless these terrorists are, they’re bound to say something about you that will push me over the edge. Apparently you defend me just as much as I defend you.” He leans in closer and you close your eyes, taking in a breath.

Your heart races in your chest, the things he’s saying. It’s overwhelming.

When he’s pressing his lips to yours, you’re jumping for a second.

His lips are on yours, this is real.

You’re stiff for a minute but eventually melt into him as he kisses you. He lets you adjust and then he deepens the kiss, reaching for your thighs to lift you up, pinning your hips to the door with his own.

You gasp into his lips when he ruts his groin into you. This is what you had dreamt about for months and it was actually happening.

Your mind is foggy, you go with whatever he’s doing. Letting him memorize every curve of your body, the feeling of his fingertips on your bare skin and the burn that they leave. He pulls away from your kiss and runs his thumb over your bottom lip. Tracing the small line scars with the pad of his thumb. The grooves of his fingerprints rough from callouses. His hands are rough and calloused but his touch is soft as he glides his hands over you. Sliding them up your shirt and gripping your hips. He’s all but panting as he tears into you.

Your lips and cheeks flush red, breathless from nearly nothing but the thought of him. The feel of his tough hands on you.

He tugs your shirt up and over your head, thankful that it was just you and him alone. For hours. Once the fabric is discarded, his lips are on yours again. He refuses to think of anything other than you. Not worried about the cameras or what could be going on around him. He slides his shaft through the hole in his jeans, zipper unzipped enough to expose him. Letting you down long enough to get one leg out of your cargo pants before he’s raising you up again. Lowering you onto his dick. Sheathing you entirely on his fat cock.

When he bottoms out a gasp leaves your lips, a hiccup of the remaining air leaving your lungs. He’s a lot. More than you’ve ever taken and it’s been so long that you’d forgotten. The stretch of him burns a bit and tears corner your eyes. It’s unexpected. He shakes, hissing through gritted teeth at the feel of you wrapped around him. Your smooth skin and gentle pleas have him shaking more. “S-shit you feel good.” He breathes, burying his face into the crook of your neck, raising you up more at the bend of your knees. He slides deeper, places untouched by anyone but him. You wrap your arms around his neck and hold onto him. He wraps his arms around your middle, like a bear hug.

Only his cock is buried in you to the hilt and he’s not stopping until he’s made you his. He was always a selfish man.

John doesn’t care anymore, you’re his. You’re his and he’ll show you that you belong to him. That you’ll never feel this way with anyone else. He’ll make sure of it. He uses the wall to hold you still, hips jackhammering into yours at a ruthless pace. Just when you’re about to tap out, he adjusts just slightly and you can take a little more. Your thighs shake in his hands and he’s not letting you out of his grasp. Not until he’s ruined you. Not until you realize just what you’ve signed yourself up for you. A shaky cry leaves your lips and that’s how he knows he’s found it.

“Found it ah?” He laughs, it’s a taunt.

“That special little place, that feels so good? Such a good girl for me.” He breathes. “Ah! You’re s-so deep Captain.”

He hisses, your unsteady voice and how you say Captain has his nearly finishing right there. It’s straight up sinful leaving your lips in such a tone. “Fuck- got me close already.” He growls through gritted teeth. He’s a wild animal. Chasing after that high, desperate for it. A mewl leaves your lips when you cum. It’s unexpected and fast, the tip of his cock abuses that sensitive spot inside of you. Too much to handle. He sends you right into a blinding orgasm and you shake in his hold. His belt rattles with every hard thrust he takes. Over and over until he’s hissing out, nose wrinkling up as he finishes inside of you. Not a second thought about pulling out.

He’s breathless, panting hard as he halts his thrusts. Letting you throb and convulse around him. The little sparks shooting through you, remnants of what he’s just given you linger.

He lets you down and your legs shake, you have to hold onto him. He can’t help but laugh.

He helps you clean up before walking you back to your room. Asking Gaz to take over watch a little early.

He licks his lips as he hesitates leaving you at your door. “Um.. we’ll talk more tomorrow. Alright? Just uh.. try not to get into anymore fights darling.” He laughs.

“You want to stay?” You ask. Opening your door up wider for him. He laughs. “How about you grab some clothes and come back to mine hm?” He tilts his head. “Okay Captain.” You smile. When you turn your back to him, he can’t see your blushing red cheeks or the wide smile on your lips. How all of this time you’d waited and it was finally here.

The both of you walk back to his room, your change of clothes in hand.

Sarah and Soap watch from down the hall, trying to contain their laughs.

[dancingwithreality]

romeo and juliet t.w.

gif not mine!

pairing: toto wolff x verstappen!sister

word count: 3.1k

summary: red bulls golden girl has been in a long term secret relationship with the team principal of mercedes, and it gets harder to keep the secret.

warnings: implied sexual content, jos verstappen 🤢, fluff, light steam but no smut

a/n: yes she’s a little child prodigy, but it works better for the plot. if this gets love 'n y'all really want more i'll do a second part maybe :)

please don’t take my work! enjoy and interact :)

JOS VERSTAPPEN was not a nice man, and an even worse father. He was demanding and mean, pushing his driving legacy onto his children. Well, onto Max. When his first child was a girl Jos was not happy. He didn’t think a girl could uphold such a prestige, so he never tried hard. You gave your all to impress your father but it was never enough for him. Then a few years later, he got Max, and when Max was of age he immediately started karting. You were quickly pushed to the back of his mind.

Through the years, even though you did better than Max, he still never cared about you as much as he did Max. Which is definitely saying something. You made your career as the youngest female driver to ever get second in the F2 Championship at 16 years old. At the last race, when you solidified your position as second in the WDC, you will always remember how your 12 year old baby brother went running up to you, pride swelling in his eyes.

He kept chanting your praises and hugged you tightly around your waist. Tears were brought to your eyes and you hugged him back. You took Max up to the podium with you and celebrated with the whole world watching. Except, Jos. His arms were crossed as he barely spared you a glance. That was the last time your heart broke because of him. You swore to yourself, you’d be there for Max how your father never was, and you’d stop relying on him to validate you.

Your success put you on the radar for many teams. The one you went with, was Red Bull. You joined their academy and were their first female reserve. There you met Daniel and became quick friends. Years later, when Max joined Toro Rosso you’d been driving for Red Bull for years already. You were the one that pushed for Max to be your reserve the following year, and everything fell into place.

Now you were 28. You had four consecutive vice championships under your wing and were driving alongside your two-consecutive championship winning brother. Everyone called you the ‘Wonder Twins’ and your family legacy had never burned brighter.

You were having a relaxing dinner with your brother and best friend, reminiscing on your life and how lucky you were. While Daniel and Max took over most of the conversation and were laughing the entire time, you memorized this night to remember it forever. Unbeknownst to Max, your boyfriend of four years was sitting further back in the restaurant having his own night. Glances were being passed back and forth between you to as your relationship was still a secret.

•••

It was 2018, after the Singapore race. The whole grid was out at some club and even some principals and team members joined you.

You and Danny were having the best time dancing and drinking, when you felt someone’s eyes on you. Finding the source gave you a shock and surprise to see Toto staring at you. When your eyes met, he sent a wink your way that made you blush and look back at Daniel. Hurriedly you whispered to him what had happened and the Aussie was at a loss for words. He knew of your little crush on the Austrian often teased you about it, but he never thought the crush would be reciprocated. Nonetheless he matched your excitement and decided you would do something about it.

Danny fluffed up your hair, and your ego, while encouraging you to go talk to him. ‘Open, lemme see your teeth,’ Daniel made a face at you telling you to do the same. You did and he confirmed that nothing was there. ‘Right, go at ‘em!’ He started to push you towards the bar.

‘What am i supposed to say!’ You started panicking while trying to look calm.

‘Turn up that Dutch charm or something! You’ve got this,’ Daniel winked and sent you on your way with a gentle pat on the back.

You were skeptical that Toto would even follow you to the bar. But he did. And somewhere in the night, small talk and glances turned into light touches and smiles. Which turned to laughs and close proximity, which led you going back to the hotel room with him for more privacy and a nightcap. The night was one to really remember as it started what you could only describe as the best thing to happen to you. The morning after wasn’t a walk of shame, no, your held was high and you were filled with joy and you stumbled all the way back to your room, eager to tell Danny all the details.

•••

You were brought back to reality as Daniel kicked you under the table and cleared his throat. Your face burned from how long you kept eye contact from across the room, while your brother sitting a foot away. ‘Sorry, I spaced out,’ you laughed and took a sip of your wine.

'You spend too much of your time with us,' Max sighed and looked at Daniel for his agreement.

‘Max,’ you chuckled, ‘You guys are my best friends, and you’re also my brother, why wouldn’t I spend time with you?’ You asked.

‘I’m just saying, you’re with us all the time. And when you’re not you’re always in your room or by yourself,’ Max stated like it was fact. Daniel let out a quick laugh at the idea of you always being ‘alone’ when he knew where you really were.

This time you kicked him, ‘And what’s wrong with that?’

‘Darling we can’t be your only friends,’ Daniel teased. You shot him a deadpanned look and pretended to laugh.

‘I’m serious!’ Max looked almost offended that you and Daniel weren’t taking it as seriously as he was. Both of you immediately turned to him and looked concerned. ‘Daniel has Heidi, I have Kelly, you’re not getting any younger and you don’t have anyone.’

Your mouth was agape, did he just call you old? Daniel couldn’t hold his laughter in anymore and in classic honey badger style, he bursted out and was laughing so hard he couldn’t breath.

‘Max, I can assure you, you don’t have to worry about me.’ You tried to calm this conversation and put it to an end.

Much to your chagrin it didn’t really end. Max went on for a little while longer and you couldn’t have wished to not be there any more. When he finally got up to go to the bathroom, you slumped down in your chair.

Daniel was trying to get his breath back and was drinking his water. 'What was that? Max never cared about my love life!' You pinched your nose bridge and put your head down on the table.

'Why don't you just tell him? It's been four years, I don't think its too fresh anymore.'

'Oh yeah like it's that easy, 'Oh hey Max! I've been dating the Team Principal of Mercedes for years now, i just never told you!' You pretended to smile and used the fakest high pitched voice you had.

'You sarcastic little girl, it's not that big a deal. If you love each other, what's the big deal?'

'Okay don't call me a little girl you're like a few years older than me. Ugh, I miss the days when we had a PR relationship for publicity. No one asked me about my love life back then,' You groaned and took an even larger sip of your wine, the cup almost empty now.

'Just eat your food and stop sulking. You're secretly dating tall, dark, handsome, and hunky, like your life is so hard. Poor Romeo and Juliet.’ Daniel cut a piece off his steak and went back to eating. 'You're leading the championship and getting dicked down-‘

'Daniel!'

•••

You were all at Silverstone now. You just finished qualifying and the feelings were mixed. Max had unfortunately not done as well, but 6th wasn’t horrible. He was sure to make it up.

You were on your way back to your hotel when you got a message from Toto. Unfortunately for him, Lewis and George struggled a little more than they’d prefer. Toto had asked the front desk for an extra key to his room and had given it you prior. He wanted a bit of comfort tonight. He already let out his anger in the garage earlier, he would need another headset for tomorrow, and he wanted you to spend the night. you told him you’d be right over as soon as you were ready.

So a shower and an outfit change later, you were running over to his room and sliding the room key in as quick as you could. You always had to make sure no one saw when either of you went to the others room, so you’d gotten fairly good at it over the years.

As soon as you closed and locked the door, behind you came a pair of arms what wrapped themselves quickly around your waist. ‘Oh, meine liebe,’ the arms sighed in the crook of your neck.

‘Hello my darling,’ you leaned backwards onto the strong chest of your boyfriend and rested one hand around his neck, where his head was pressing kisses on yours. ‘How are you?’

He spun you around in his arms so he could rest his forehead on top your head. ‘Qualifying was piss poor, it seems we can’t get out of 7th and 8th.’

‘If it makes you feel any better, Alonso hasn’t been doing too well these last races. If Lewis manages to move even a few places the gap will tightens between them.’ You rubbed your hands up and down his back, trying yo offer some comforting words.

‘How can you be so impartial?’ He pressed a long kiss to your lips. ‘We’re from rival teams, shouldn’t you pray for our downfall?’ he kissed you again.

This time when he started to pull away you went to your tippy toes chasing after him, ‘We can both succeed without hurting the other.’ One of your hands was behind his neck, the other in his hair. ‘Well, so long as I’m winning.’ Each time he kissed you grew more passionate and desperate than the last. Neither of you had even realized that you’d walked backwards onto the bed until Toto’s legs hit the frame and you both fell.

After his back hit the mattress and you braces yourself on his chest you both erupted into laughter. You laid with your head and arms in his chest as he put one behind his head so he could see you properly. ‘It’s only a good race if you win darling,’ the look in his eyes was so intense you could feel your whole body get hotter.

Your ears grew red as you two kept the silence and just, stared. ‘I love you,’ you softly said.

‘I love you,’ his thick accented voice soothed your heart and made it swell four times the size.

‘I wish we didn’t have to keep everything so secret,’ you uttered in a sort of defeated tone.

‘Meine liebe, I’d get all those silly little social media apps just to tell the whole world about us if you asked.’ He sat up, and pulled you with him into an upright position. You were straddling his lap, arms around his waist, as he pulled you in for a deep kiss, all in an effort to emphasize his love for you.

You would be lying if you said you didn’t like it when he held you like you weighed nothing. At eye level with him now, you couldn’t hold back anymore and jumped at his face. You kissed him so quickly and deeply you could’ve sworn he gasped. You nibbled on his lip and he let out a groan that you immediately swallowed, the sound only sending you into hyperdrive. Your intensity fueled him and you both became hungry for each other. Hands roaming and bodies moving in sync with each other.

His hands gripped your thighs and you tightened your legs around his waist. Once again, like you weight nothing, he took advantage of your tightening around him and lifted you up so he could further up the bed. Not once did you disconnect from each other as the night began to escalate.

He laid you down on your back and hovered over you, only a mere few inches from laying on you. Lips swollen and eyes dilated in lust you uttered ‘I love yours’ once more before connecting your lips for what feels like the tenth time that night.

All you were was a mess of sweaty skin, hushed breaths and some of the most explicit sounds that would make anyone blush. Nights like these, we’re you were able to care for each other and pretend the world outside didn’t exist were your favorite. Nights where you two could just be in love, not Mercedes Team Principal and Red Bulls Golden Girl.

Nights like these where you were Romeo and Juliet, fighting against your families and becoming your own.

•••

It was the last lap of Silverstone and adrenaline was running high. Your father had shown up to this race which already put you in a sour mood, you just wanted him to leave. You had Lando pushing behind you, granted the gap was 11.63 seconds but you wanted it to stay that way. Your only goal now was to get fastest lap to really tie it in. All these years later and you were still desperate for your father to see how good you were. See how you did it all by yourself.

You knew that behind Lando was Max, and even though you would always wish the best for the papaya boy, you knew that if max couldn’t overtake Jos would not be happy. His permanently disappoint disposition still hurt Max and it hurt you to see it.

Tension was running high as the race was coming to a close. There wasn’t a sound you could hear besides your own heart and you crossed the finish line. Lando followed behind and Max just .01 of a second behind him. It was close, and you were just so happy for both of them that you didn’t care if your brother didn’t overtake him.

When the final lap was over and you parked your car, the first thing you did was take off your helmet and look at the crowds. Amongst the cheering crowds, McLaren going wild and Red Bull screaming at the top of their lungs you watched as your brother pulled into the third spot and got out. Max made eye contact with your father and you could watch his heart break. Although he had preformed so well Jos was never pleased.

This ignited something in your veins. You watched him cross his arms and stand silently in the crow of cheering Red Bulls, the cameras showing off the orange army going insane in the bleachers. Yet somehow, the happiness couldn’t rub off on him.

You were tired of him.

You couldn’t take a single second of his attitude anymore.

So with all your courage and fire, you arm over to where Mercedes had piled off to the side. Your pushing through the crowds caught the cameras attention and all eyes were on you.

There in that second there was only one thought in your head. One idea: and you were going to follow through. You always do. You found Toto looking around shocked and confused as to why you were right in front of him. And in that second, you kissed him.

You brought both of your hands up to cup his face and you smashed your lips against his. As if the world melted around you his hands found your hips and the two of you were pushing so hard into each other, it was hard to tell where you ended and he started.

Just like the night before, you were one. You weren’t Mercedes v. Red Bull. You were boy and girl, hopelessly in love.

The crowd and gone silent.

You two pulled away ever so slightly, foreheads rested against the others as Toto supported your weight so you didn’t have to strain your feet too much to reach him. Despite just hard launching your relationship without any kind of talking about it before hand, the two lovers embraced each other.

‘The world knows now,’ he whispered in your ear.

‘Let them.’ You smiled as you hugged him tighter. ‘I love you.’

‘I love you.’ he whispered back.

Cheers and whoops erupted around you. Despite the initial shock of your relationship people were just happy. It was a good race with an even better surprise at the end, how could they complain?

The two of you pulled apart and smiled at each other, the world so unused to swing Toto so domestic and soft. You have him one more hot kiss before walking back to do the post race interview and award ceremony.

‘I guess she isn’t so alone, huh..’ Max looked star struck as Daniel laughed and patted him on the back.

You walked back and Jos was furious at your vulgar and inappropriate display. You’d never seen him so mad. It made you audibly laugh.

You put your Rub Bull cap on and walked right up to David Coulthard and smiled, waiting to start the questions.

‘Well that was something,’ He laughs in a slightly awkward manor. ‘Can I assume there’s something going on between you two?’

‘We’ve been dating for a while, I love him.’ You never smiled brighter.

‘A congratulations is in order then, for the race and for your love!’ He barked out in laughter as you thanked him and giggled.

Your eyes never left Toto, even as the anthems played and the trophies were handed out. Even as you sprayed each other with champagne and celebrated. Neither of you looked away. The smiles so evident on your faces and that in love glow never left. At that moment, neither of you cared about the repercussions that would follow. The PR mess and the scolding from Christian. It was just you two, in love.

The love you shared didn’t have to be bottled anymore. You two didn’t have to hide anymore, you could be together freely and honestly. That was all you wanted in life. To be with your love, in love, with no secrets or shame. You loved each other and that was all that mattered.

fin.

[alittlebitofsainz]

- you swear that you listened -

prompt: “so take me to every party and just talk to your friends.”

pairing: logan sargeant x reader

summary: why did he even bring you to meet his friends if he was going to forget you even existed? featuring an important conversation and a dog at the party

a/n: lyrics from track #65 - worst of you by maisie peters :)

masterlist | the spotify wrapped collection

“babe, what’s up with you? you’ve been quiet all night.”

“yeah, maybe it’s cos you didn’t talk to me for the entire time.” you shot back, both your words and tone harsher than you’d intended. logan was silent after that, and you stole a glance across to him sat in the passenger seat, immediately feeling guilty when you saw the wounded look on his face. you turned your gaze back to the road ahead with a heavy sigh.

it wasn’t really your fault that you were in such a bad mood; it had been your first time meeting a bunch of his childhood friends, stressful enough without the added bonus of you being the designated driver, so you had had to watch everyone slowly getting more and more intoxicated while you nursed the same diet coke for three hours straight. you’d offered to stay sober, but only because logan had emphasised that he hadn’t seen these friends in years, and it would be really nice to catch up with them over a beer, and you don’t really drink that much anyway, so you don’t mind driving, right?

“I don’t mind.” you’d said, because you knew logan had been having a tough season, and you wanted nothing more than to see him enjoying himself with his friends. and you. that had been the key part that was missing. you tried to join in on their conversations, you really did, but they were full of stories from the time before you even knew logan, sentences always seeming to start with “do you remember when…”. and every time you tried to speak up, to input something, the topic would change again, someone speaking over the top of you to remind the group of another funny anecdote from their past. you tried to catch logan’s eye, but to no avail, too wrapped up in old memories and the beer in his hand.

eventually you’d made an excuse about going to find the toilet, and disappeared off into a living room that no one was in. you weren’t even sure whether logan had noticed you were gone; you could still hear the ringing of his laughter drifting through the cracks between the door and the doorframe. at the least the dog came to find you. dogs were always the best thing at parties.

the worst part was that you didn’t know how to handle this. it had never happened before, you weren’t used to it. logan was always so attentive, so loving, so caring. he never failed to tell you, or show you, how much you really meant to him, his light shining through the darkness that had been this rollercoaster of a season. but around his friends, he just seemed different. like he’d forgotten you were even there.

the silence lasted the rest of the drive home. you once risked a glance across to logan, but his head was turning away, chin resting in his hand, his elbow propped against the passenger window, looking out at the world passing by as if he was deep in thought. from this angle, you couldn’t read his expression. you didn’t know if you even wanted to.

“I’m sorry, please, y/n, if I’ve done something wrong…”

logan tried again as you entered his apartment, his words slurred slightly, reminding you that now wasn’t time for this conversation when he was several beers deep and you were stone cold sober.

“really, lo, it’s…” you couldn’t bring yourself to say it’s fine, so you just shook your head instead. “let’s just talk about it in the morning, okay?” you murmured, catching a glimpse of his crestfallen expression as you passed by him, a sight that made your heart ache. you both got ready for bed without speaking again, the tension in the air uncomfortable.

and when morning rolled around and the sun filtering through the curtains woke you from sleep, you found yourself still reluctant to talk about it. you rolled over, turning to face logan, only to find a pair of bright blue eyes staring back at you.

“you were mad at me.”

you bit back a sarcastic good morning to you too. now was not the time.

“what?” you tried feigning ignorance, voice quiet.

“last night, you were mad at me.” logan repeated, and you realised you weren’t getting out of this one. “why? I don’t get it; did you not have a good time?”

you blinked, letting his word settle in your mind, before your brows folded into a soft frown.

“you didn’t even notice?” you murmured, knowing what the answer would be.

“notice what?” logan’s face scrunched up in confusion, searching back through his memories, desperately trying to remember something specific in the haze of what had happened last night. you sighed. it was the answer you’d been expecting, and dreading.

“I left, like, halfway through. went and sat in the living room. alone.” you explained, trying to spell it out for him. logan’s confused expression deepened.

“w- wha- why?” he stuttered, propping himself up on his elbow, “baby, you should’ve told me if you weren’t having a good-“

“I tried to!” you cut him off sharply, tone growing exasperated, “I tried to, but I couldn’t get your attention. not even for two minutes. it felt like I wasn’t even there.”

he opened his mouth to argue, but found nothing to argue back with. now that he thought about it, you were right. he had barely noticed you, once he was surrounded by his friends and stories of old times, and he felt fucking awful about it.

“I’m sorry. oh, fuck, babe, I really am sorry.” he stammered, trying to get all his apologies out at once, words tripping out over his tongue. you both appreciated and hated seeing him so remorseful; you knew you couldn’t just let it slide, or it would only happen again and make you feel worse, but at the same time you knew logan was genuinely sorry.

“it’s okay, lo.” you reached out a hand, taking his in yours and giving it a gentle squeeze. he drew in a soft breath, as if he expected a fight instead of forgiveness, and when his eyes met yours again they were glistening with unshed tears of remorse, “it was an accident, I know you didn’t mean to. everyone makes mistakes, right? we’re learning together.” you continued, a soft smile spreading across your face as you watched him relax slightly, tension leaving his shoulders. he nodded, ducking his head away to try and hide the tear thar had slipped down his cheek.

“right,” he agreed shakily, “I’m still sorry I made you feel forgotten about, really. I promise it won’t happen again.”

“I know.” you replied softly, releasing his hand from yours and instead holding out both your arms as a silent invitation. logan was only too happy to accept, shuffling across the bed towards you and burying his head into the crook of your neck, your arms securing around his back. you felt him take a deep breath into your shoulder, chest rising deeply before falling back down again.

“I really love you, you know that, right?” he murmured, voice muffled as he rested his cheek against your skin. you chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head.

“I know. I love you too, Lo.”

a/n: i tried so hard to leave this on a more angsty ending but honestly i just can’t be mean to logan for more than five seconds he deserves happiness even if its just in fictional form

[ineffablesuffering]

Pub Quiz (Crowley X Reader)

*not my gif!*

Warnings: use of alcohol, i think that's it? oh and crowley in a turtleneck - thats a major warning.

Pairing: Crowley x gn!reader.

Word Count: 2,355 (i got a bit carried away writing this whoops)

Note: to the lovely anon that sent me a request; i'm working on it! i see you!

Masterlist

_____________________________________

“Oh, c’mon it will be fun, you never want to do anything fun,” you whine.

“I’m plenty fun,” Crowley said, sipping his whisky. You roll your eyes at him. The Drunken Donkey was hosting a music quiz and you were desperate to go.  You had grown up around all sorts of music and back when you were a young teenager discovering the world of ‘decent music’ as your dad had put it, he would test you on your knowledge and it was something you had become quite fond of.

“Please,” you beg, “I’ll buy you a new plant, wash the Bentley, and buy you a drink.”

Crowley let out a sigh and looked down as he swirled the whisky in his glass. It’s not as if he had anything better to do with his time and he was rather fond of spending time with you, not that he’d ever admit that. An uncomfortable, but not unwelcome, feeling pulled on his heart when he looked up at you to see you giving your best puppy dog eyes. “Fine! Fine,” he said exasperatedly, “but don’t complain when I beat you.”

“We’ll see about that,” you say with a cheeky grin.

A few hours later, you were waiting for Crowley to make an appearance outside The Drunken Donkey. You had returned home to get changed into something a bit more appropriate for an evening in the pub, and so it seems had Crowley. He rounded the corner and you had to try to stop your jaw from hanging open. He wore all black, which was nothing new but the turtleneck jumper? Yeah, that was new, and he looked downright sinful.

“Well don’t you scrub up nicely,” you say when he approaches you, butterflies erupting in your stomach.

“Not so bad yourself,” he comments with a smirk. Your cheeks flame. “Ready to lose?”

“Oh, you’re so on.”

You both head inside and Crowley heads to find a seat in the busy pub as you approach the bar.

“What can I get for you my lovely,” the woman behind the bar said. You order yourself your favourite drink and a large Talisker for Crowley, before tapping your card and heading off to find him.  

“For you,” you say placing down the whisky in front of him. He shoots you a small smile that’s enough to make you clutch your drink a little bit tighter before sitting down opposite him. “So basically, you need to have this app to take part in the quiz, you just put your name in it and then tap the right answer. Simple! Do you need help or are you old enough to do it by yourself?”

“Oh, very funny,” he huffs pulling his phone out and situating himself. “Now remember; no crying when you lose,” he smirks at you. You just look at him as you take a sip from your drink.

“We’ll see about that,” you put your own information into your phone. “Shall we make a bet?”

“A bet with a demon Y/N? That’s a bit risky, even for you.” He gives you a wicked grin and he leans in closer. You can smell his cologne at this proximity, and it makes your palms sweat a little bit. You really do need to sort yourself out.

“Well,” you lean in, not letting the proximity to him make you nervous. “I’m feeling rather confident tonight.”

“Okay then. If I win, you have to buy me a coffee every day for the next two weeks.”

“And if I win, you have to drive me around in the Bentley for two weeks, chauffeur hat and all.” You smile sweetly holding out your hand. He grins and shakes your hand.

“Deal.”

Soon the quiz master is telling you the rules, and you feel a sense of nervousness in your stomach. Maybe this was a bad idea, he did have nearly 6,000 years of experience on you, which is an awful lot of time to listen to music. The quiz master explained that there was to be four rounds; the 1980s, the Naughties, Guess the Next Line and a round specifically dedicated to Queen. Crowley perked up when he heard the last round, he smiled smugly at his phone, thinking he had this in the bag. It would be nice to not have to pay for coffee for two weeks, he thought to himself. He takes a quick glance at you over the top of his sunglasses, seeing you slightly wiggle in your seat. Your nerves, weirdly, gave him a sense of confidence.

“Okay ladies and gents, Round One: The 1980s,” the quiz master starts. The first song plays and within the first second, you’re tapping the answer.

“What?” you say as you look up and see Crowley staring at you slightly open-mouthed.

“How did you know that so quickly? The song barely started!” he points out.

You feel your nerves start to disperse and that sense of confidence washes over you again as you shrug with a smug smile on your face getting ready for the next song. The opening notes to The Look by Roxette play as you tap again within the first few notes of the song. You start to sway along in your seat. You hear Crowley growl as you continue to get the questions right and get them right quickly.

Soon the round comes to an end and the quiz master puts the leaderboard up and you smile smugly at Crowley as you see your name at the top of the board and him close behind in second place.

“What was that about you beating me?” you grin cheekily.

“Shut up,” he grumbles “It’s only round one. Don’t get too cocky.”

You giggle at him; the host announces that they are starting round two. You shoot him a wink before looking back down at your phone getting ready to start. You miss the redness that dusts his cheeks.

After the end of the round, you find yourself at the top of the leaderboard again, but this time Crowley is only a few points behind you and getting closer.

“I’m catching up to you, Y/N,” he says smugly, “You seemed to miss a few songs there, are you slipping?”

“No,” you say confidently. “I just know the 80s better.”

“I see,” he finishes his drink. “Another?” He gestures to your now empty glass. You nod at him before he heads off to the bar. A small smile graces your lips. You rather enjoy spending time with the demon. You love spending time with Aziraphale too, but this was different. Crowley just seemed to get you and your sense of humour. He was kind, although he would never admit it. He once acquired a first edition copy of your favourite book for your birthday one year, but he brushed it off as something that anyone would do. That’s when your feelings towards him started. Something about the gesture was so heartfelt and thoughtful that you couldn’t help but fall just a little bit in love with him. You were so lost in your thoughts that you hadn’t noticed the drink being placed in front of you and Crowley retaking his seat.

“Penny for your thoughts?” he asked, startling you.

“Oh sorry,” your cheeks heat again, a common occurrence around Crowley, “I was just thinking about how I can’t wait to be driven around by you for the next two weeks,” you reply cooly, not letting your thoughts get the best of you. He takes a sip of his drink and leans back in his chair, not quite believing you.

“Hmm, I wouldn’t get too comfortable Y/N,” he smirked at you.

Before you could respond, the quiz master introduced the third round. The round went by smoothly, and you were now tied with Crowley in first place, who had been slowly creeping up behind you as the round went on. You felt yourself becoming more nervous as you went into the Queen round, knowing this is something that Crowley would do well in. It really was anybody's game. The round goes by quickly and before you know it the quiz was over. You look at Crowley and he looks back at you. He seems nervous. The quiz master is soon displaying the final results and you see your name at the top of the leaderboard, one point ahead of Crowley.

“Would you look at that,” you cheer smugly, sticking your tongue out at him.

“Don’t be so juvenile,” he groans at you.

“Don’t be so sour,” you grin at him “Oh I can’t wait to have a personal driver for the next two weeks.”

“You just got lucky.”

You lean over the table, “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” he said giving your face a once over, ever so slightly lingering on your lips.

You lean back in your seat, feeling quite proud of yourself. “You know, I think I should demand one of those special apology dances you make Aziraphale do for you.”

“Absolutely not.” He said, finishing his drink, “I don’t do the dance.”

“That’s not what I’ve heard,” you bring the last of your drink to your lips with a smirk.

“Shut up,” he huffs, glancing around the still-busy pub, the quiz long forgotten by everyone else in the room. The night was still young and despite him losing to you, he was rather enjoying his evening and didn’t want it to end. His gaze lands back on you as you type out something on your phone. “Do you maybe want to come back to the bookshop for one more?” he asks. He sounded nervous, as if you might reject his offer. “Aziraphale’s in Edinburgh visiting a friend, and I know he’s got some lovely vintage wine hiding somewhere.”

“Yeah, I’d like that a lot,” you smile at him, and he smiles back. He stands up and offers you a hand which you take, and you walk down the street to the bookshop.

A few moments later, you were in Aziraphale’s bookshop lounging on his sofa with Crowley. You sat cross-legged facing him, and he had an arm stretched behind the back of the sofa, sunglasses placed on the table by the door. You suggest to Crowley that you should put some music on, he snaps his fingers, and the sounds of Duran Duran filled the air. You smile at him, of course, he knows how much you loved them. It’s just the kind of demon he was, thoughtful, kind, and caring. One glass turns into two as the music continues to play in the background and you talk about this that and everything in between. He tells you tales of Rome and Athens way back when and you watch him talk. He describes everything in such a way that draws you closer to him. His hands waving around as he talks, little drops of wine occasionally falling from the glass that he never thinks to put down. He truly was a sight to behold.

“You’re staring,” he said finally placing his glass down.

“Am I?” you say blinking, you turn your head to the side.

“Hey, I never said I minded,” he said, your attention suddenly back on him. Was he flirting with you? The butterflies returned to your stomach, and you couldn’t tell if it was the alcohol or the way he spoke to you. He stood suddenly; a hand stretched out towards you. “Care to dance?”

You look at his outstretched hand for a beat before a shy smile appears on your face as you gently place your hand onto his. He helps you stand and is quick to pull you close to him. You look at him and he looks at you with a small smile on his face as he snakes a hand around your waist. The music suddenly changes into the soft melody of Spandau Ballet’s True. You giggle and hide your head in his chest. Was this his doing? You look up and find him gazing at you.

“So…” you begin.

“So…”

“This is different,” you smile.

“A good different or a bad different?” he asks twirling you.

“A good different.” You say before falling into a comfortable silence. You lean your head on his shoulder and he leans his on top of yours. The two of you swayed to the music as if you were the only two people on Earth.

“I’m glad you dragged me along tonight,” he says softly, the vibration of his words running over your body.

“I’m glad I convinced you to come, even if it means I need to buy you a plant and wash the Bentley.” You laugh. He chuckles.

“Don’t bother,” he says chuckling as he lifts his head. You move your own to look at him. He really did have the most beautiful eyes.

“I guess you’re right, I did win after all.” You grin at him, removing the hand that was once in his and placing it on his chest giving him a tap, “I’m just that good.” His now free hand now found its way to the side of your face. You tilt your head, confused at the movement. His face had an unreadable expression on it. “Crowley are yo-“

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up,” he said almost breathlessly, as he pulled you close and kissed you. A beat passes before your eyes flutter closed and you kiss him back, the hand that was once on his chest now cupping his face bringing him even closer to you. He pulls away just enough for him to rest his forehead against yours. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time,” he whispers just loud enough for you to hear him.

“Me too,” you whisper back, “Me too.”

He grins at you before kissing you again, his lips warm and soft against yours. He pulls back, a hand still cupping the side of your face, his thumb rubbing up and down against your jaw. “Would you maybe like to go out on a date sometime?” he asks softly. You nod, a smile wide on your face.

“Yeah, I would.”

[songforeddiemunson]

Haunting in Blackwood Hollow

An Eddie Munson x F!Reader Miniseries

Series Summary: It’s the year 1991. Eddie and reader check into a rented house in the Appalachian woods, joined by Nancy, Jonathan, Steve, and Robin. Unfortunately for our gang, things in Blackwood Hollow are never as they appear.

Tropes: established relationship, Jonathan x Nancy, no mention of the events from ST, smut, comedy, fluff, scares, bit of whump (but nothing too crazy)

Series Warnings: Swearing, drinking and weed use, sexual and scary situations, minors please DNI.

Chapter One: Steve's Big Mistake

Chapter warnings: naughty language, mentions of drinking, weed use. This is largely setting the scene babes. Author's Note: Submission for @stcreators Event 5: Dynamics Submission for @somnambulic-thing, @allthingsjoeq, and @bettyfrommars event: strangerprompts (#14) {Okay so I took a bit of liberty with the prompt, but that's just how my brain wanted to do it! You know how that goes. ;) }

Word Count: ~2K

You swore under your breath as the taxi pulled away, leaving you staring at the monstrosity you were meant to be staying in for the weekend.

“This is the last time I leave that jackass in charge of anything,” you muttered, prompting a snort from Eddie, who stood beside you.

You liked Steve. Loved him even, in the way that friends that have known each other for years did, who’d seen each other at their worst, thick as thieves, none of that ‘will they or won’t they’ shit, especially after you started seeing Eddie. But in that moment, you could strangle him.

Most of your group of friends had scattered to the four corners of the country, so when you all received your invitations to Joyce Byers’ and Jim Hopper’s wedding in the Smoky Mountains, you decided to rent a whole house instead of getting hotel rooms. Correction: Steve came up with the idea to rent a house, and admittedly it was a good plan. It would likely be cheaper to pool your resources, and you could all hang out in the common areas and catch up.

And then you saw the house.

It was a stereotype in peeling paint and dilapidated wood. The porch was creaky and appeared to be on the verge of collapse. Gnarled old vines and weeds encroached from every direction; you thought maybe it had been landscaped last sometime in the 1960s. A broken old fountain sat on the front lawn, with a scummy green puddle of rainwater gathered at the bottom, and there was a broken gate that hung loose on its hinges near the drive.

Eddie tilted his head in a manner reminiscent of a terrier as he surveyed the old structure. “I think it looks kinda cool, like that house in IT. The house on Neibolt Street, remember?”

You blinked at your paramour. “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I want to spend the weekend in a house like that. It’s one thing to read about it in a spooky story, it’s another thing to actually sleep there.” He had the good grace to laugh at that sentiment.

“Fair enough,” he conceded.

Of all the houses in Asheville, Tennessee, THIS is the one he chooses? You thought bitterly as you made your way up the walkway toward the porch, stepping carefully on the worn wood and looking for nails that could be lying in wait to impale your foot.

You had no idea if anyone else had already arrived, and whether you were supposed to knock or just walk in. You had decided to try the former, but your knuckles hadn’t had a chance to make contact with the wood before the door was whipped open, revealing a clearly exasperated Robin.

“Omigosh you’re here!” she cried joyfully as she threw her arms around you. You let your weekend bag drop to the porch as you reciprocated the hug.

“Robin! I’m so glad to see you!” you cooed as you gave her a good squeeze then released her. “But what the hell is this house?”

“Right?! I feel like it’s right out of a Scoobie Doo episode or something. Talk about creepy. Eddie! Hi!”

“I’ve seen worse,” a deeper voice intoned from out of eyesight, shortly before Steve stepped into the foyer.

“Steve! It’s lovely to see you, but what the fuck?” you scolded.

Steve’s expression was so sheepish that you couldn’t help but burst out laughing.

“I know, I know,” he moaned, before putting his face in his hands.

“Come here and hug me, loser. I haven’t seen you in almost two years and you’re gonna make me sleep in the house from Amityville Horror?”

“Hey now,” Robin countered, “The Amityville Horror house was waaay nicer than this.”

“True. Eddie said it looked like the house from IT.”

“Oooh yes! That fits,” Robin said.

“What’s that? It?” Steve asked, never one to embrace pop culture.

You hugged Steve despite wanting to hurt him a little bit. “Nevermind. So what were you thinking with this house?”

“Okay so in my defense the pictures were much nicer in the Want Ad, and in black and white. I didn’t realize it was going to be so…”

“Shabby?” you offered while Robin said “terrifying” at the same time.

“Yeah,” Steve said with a shrug.

Eddie chuckled as he hugged his friends by way of greeting.  “Alright well, as long as the bed is clean, I don't really care,” he said. “This one is scared of spiders,” he said, gesturing toward you. 

“I am not, you are!” you yelled.

“I am NOT afraid of spiders,” Eddie replied defensively. “It’s those fucking centipede things with all the legs. I hate those things.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m sure there are plenty of things in this house to trigger all our phobias.”

The interior was a little less gloomy than its exterior, but that wasn’t saying much. The common room in which you were standing was decorated in 50 year-old wallpaper that was peeling and yellowing. The floors were hard wood but hadn’t been refinished since the wallpaper was installed, and the dusty old upholstery was flat and worn around the edges. 

“Where are we sleeping, anyway?”

“There’s three bedrooms, one with a queen and two with a pair of singles. I figured we could draw straws or someth–”

“Dibs on the queen!” Eddie shouted.

“Eddie, we have to–” you began.

“Nah babe. We’re a couple, and we got here first. You snooze, you lose.”

“I think that’s fair,” Robin said with a shrug.

“Nancy and Jonathan won’t love that,” Steve said. “But you can fight it out amongst yourselves. I’m staying out of it. Looks like you’re bunking with me, Robin.”

“I don’t care, as long as you don’t snore.”

Nancy and Jonathan arrived about an hour later, and while they weren’t thrilled to be relegated to a pair of twin beds, they conceded that Eddie did in fact call dibs.

“I feel like we’re eighteen again,” Nancy laughed as she explored the kitchen for a clean glass for water. “Calling dibs and bunking up together. Feels like old times.”

“It does,” you agreed from where you were leaning against the counter. “I don’t know if I would use any of the dishes in this house though.”

“I might just make a store run, get some solo cups and paper plates,” she said as she put one grimy glass back in the cupboard with a look of distaste. “Any requests?”

“Oooh, cheez-its, snapple peach tea, pizza pretzel combos…”

“PBR,” Eddie contributed as he sidled up next to you and bent to give you a quick peck on the lips.

“Well of course,” Nancy said with a smile. “Can’t forget the beer.”

Robin poked her head into the room. “Grab a couple of pizzas! I’ll give you cash.”

You all pitched in for the snacks and sent Nancy on her way as the sun began its descent behind the trees. The rest of you gathered in the living room to figure out what to do for the night.

“Care for a toke?” Eddie asked, as he held up a joint he pulled from his jacket and set it alight.

“Yessss,” Jonathan replied with enthusiasm, leaning forward to pinch the little joint between his fingers.

“That didn’t take long,” Steve said with a roll of his eyes.

“Lighten up, Harrington,” Jonathan said in a fragrant plume of exhalation, stifling a cough. “You could probably use this more than the rest of us. You’re too wound up.” 

“It’s true Steve, why are you always so stressed out?” you asked, taking a pull from the joint.

“I don’t know, I just feel like I’m the responsible one–” he began, but was cut off by a chorus of jeers and naysaying.

“You think you’re the responsible one, but everyone knows it’s Nancy,” Robin said, laughing.

“Yeah man, like…the King Steve days are over, you can stop trying so hard,” Eddie added with a grin.

“Okay, okay, I get it…” Steve said, accepting his ribbing with a modicum of grace. His voice trailed off, however, as his attention was pulled in another direction. “Hey what’s that?”

“What?” you and Jonathan asked at the same time, following his gaze. 

“It’s on top of that bookshelf…” he began, already getting up and walking toward it. He had to stand on the tips of his toes to reach it, and pulled it down, unleashing a cloud of dust and grime.

“What is it?” Eddie asked.

Steve brushed the dust off the cover before looking up at you with wide eyes. 

“It’s a ouija board,” he said.

“Oh shit,” Eddie said, laughing. "You can't be serious."

“What! No, no thank you!” Robin yelled.

“I dunno man, you might want to put that back and pretend you never saw it,” Jonathan added with a smirk.

“What, nah, that stuff isn’t real,” you said.

“No, it’s not,” Steve agreed. “It’s just a silly game.”

“If it’s just a silly game,” Eddie taunted, "why don’t we take it for a spin?”

“Oh man, no, don’t give him any ideas,” Robin piped in with her trademarked ‘mile-a-minute’ cadence. “Did you see the movie Witchboard? Well I did, and I didn’t sleep for a week afterward. Too scary for me. And it’s kinda weird that that thing just shows up in the spookiest house I’ve ever seen, and we’re in the middle of nowhere and…”

“What’s Witchboard?” Steve asked.

“Dude, watch a movie…” Eddie moaned while Jonathan doubled-over laughing.

Steve laid the box down on the coffee table. “Well, just because there was a movie about these things doesn’t make them real. The Princess Bride isn’t exactly real either.”

Eddie gasped with mock incredulity. “It’s NOT?”

“Have fun NOT storming the castle I guess,” Jonathan tried to say without laughing, which came out as a choked squeal.

“Inconceivable!” you yelled, making the entire room erupt in hearty laughter and dispelling some of the unease that had grown since the discovery of the ouija board.

“Jesus guys, are you that stoned already?” Steve asked with a smile.

“Eddie only buys the good stuff,” you said.

“Zero to zooted within three hits, or your money back,” Eddie said before taking another pull from the joint.

“Good to know,” Steve said sarcastically. “So are you guys gonna play with this thing or not?”

“Fine fine,” you said. “Eddie, let’s do this.”

He agreed, and you sat on the floor on either side of the coffee table. You opened the box, took out its contents, and each placed the index finger of your right hand gently on the planchette. You sat silent for a moment, not doing or saying anything, unsure of where to begin.

“Uhhhh,” Eddie said before dissolving into giggles.

“Ask it something!” Robin whispered, leaning forward in her excitement.

“Okay, uh…” you began, pausing to think. “Is there anybody here with us right now?”

It seemed like the entire room held its breath with anticipation.

“Is there anyone here in this house?” you repeated.

The silence ticked onward.

“Well this is thrilling,” Jonathan said with a snort.

“Give it a minute,” Steve said.

“Thought you didn’t believe in this stuff, Stevarino,” Eddie teased.

“I don’t, but–”

You thought you felt the planchette move ever so slightly. 

“Wait!” you gasped. “Did you feel that?”

“No, wait. Maybe?” Eddie whispered.

You sat motionless for a beat, but nothing happened. You began to think that it was your imagination when…

….suddenly the front door banged open with a loud smash, and every single person in the room screamed like a banshee.

“Jesus, guys!” Nancy said as she struggled to hold several brown paper grocery bags. “A little help here?”

“Oh fuck, sorry babe,” Jonathan said, and the rest of you sheepishly got up to help, leaving the ouija board on the table. You bustled into the kitchen to put things away and pop open cans of beer, laughing about the silly jump scare you’d all just shared.

What none of you saw, however, was the planchette on the ouija board slide over to ‘hello.’

To Be Continued...

Sorry this one is short, but I needed to get it out. More is coming! As always, comments and reblogs are the lifeblood of every fic writer!

PART TWO MASTERLIST

[heich0e]

[warning: while f!reader is not described with any specific physical characteristics, the child in this fic is described as having inherited all of Megumi’s attributes and none from reader! please read with that in mind, or pass over this fic if not <3]

"Did you tell her my name?"

Megumi lives in a flat above the clinic, and has since he was 23. The old vet he'd studied under had lived there for years, right around when he was his age, but as he and his wife got older and their family grew, they needed more space than the little two bedroom provided them.

It's the perfect size for Megumi, though. Well-suited in every way to his lifestyle: large enough that he doesn't feel cramped but still small enough that he can easily keep it tidy, and close to work so he can always quickly pop downstairs to check on any animals boarding overnight—though he does still sleep sometimes on that lumpy couch in the staff room if he's just too exhausted after a long day to climb up the stairs.

The apartment has served him well over the past decade, and he's happy with his little home, a perfect space just for him.

Well, him and Yuuji at present.

"That was soooo crazy."

Yuuji has made this remark roughly forty-seven times in the past two hours since the two of them came upstairs following Nanami, Kota, and your departure from the little clinic. He's downed two thirds of the beers he brought with him, though—and a healthy pour of the whiskey Megumi keeps in his cupboard—so that might be as much a cause as any for the repetition.

Megumi sighs, taking another little swig from his own drink.

It's not like he's completely wrong, either.

Megumi is still reeling from the excitement earlier in the evening, and unsettled by feeling that he can't quite seem to shake in the aftermath. He keeps thinking of the little boy who has his eyes, and of the mother who couldn't meet them.

Why does he feel like he should know you? Like he does know you? Or did, maybe, once.

But try as he might he just can't bring back any memories of you, or where the two of you may have once met. Megumi prides himself on his memory, and his ability to remember names and faces, so why is this the moment that it's failing him? Deceiving him into believing something he knows just can't be true?

Is it because he wants to know you? To know Kota?

No. That's ridiculous. He'd felt dread when Kota had first appeared on the clinic doorstep, convinced it was some kind of haunting or a cruel hallucination.

Yuuji couldn't recall with any certainty that he'd told you Megumi's name, but Nanami could have easily mentioned it at the police station or on the drive to the clinic. Hell, you might have seen his name on the wall when you came in. But none of that explains why you behaved so strangely towards him, so evasive in his presence. He was sure that you were tired after the frightening ordeal of losing your son, but it still didn't necessarily make sense why he was the only one whose gaze you had such a hard time meeting.

"What restaurant does she work at?" Megumi suddenly asks Yuuji, and his friend peers at him over the table they're seated at on the floor of his living room.

Yuuji shrugs. "Nanami didn't say, and when I texted him he said that he's not allowed to give out personal info like that."

"But it was nearby, right?" Megumi asks again. "It would have to be if Kota made it here all on his own."

Yuuji shrugs again, watching his friend's face.

"What's up with you?" he asks him bluntly. "You're being weird."

"No I'm not," Megumi argues, his lips pursing.

"Yeah you are," Yuuji counters. "Weirder than normal, anyway."

Megumi shoots him a weak glare, pushing himself up from the table. He's a little unsteady on his feet, and he looks down at the place where he was sitting once he's risen. He had more to drink than he'd planned on, and it's hitting him now that he's upright.

"I'm gonna wash up and go to bed," Megumi mutters.

"Mind if I crash on the couch?" Yuuji asks, as though his friend has ever once denied him. Megumi waves his hand dismissively, shuffling past his friend in the direction of his bedroom.

After getting ready for bed, Megumi finds himself staring up at the ceiling of his bedroom listlessly. In the other room he can hear Yuuji laughing along to some late night variety show, but that's not what's keeping him awake—having long grown used to it. He sighs, squeezing his eyes shut as though he might be able to will sleep to come to him by force.

He can hear the sound of his heartbeat.

Ba-dump.

Yer still a young fella, Megumi, but ya won't be ferever.

Ba-dump.

Gotta start thinkin' about yer future 'ventually.

Ba-dump.

Settlin' down, findin' yourself a pretty girl, babies.

The old man's cheeks were so red that night that Megumi started to genuinely worry for his health. He remembers trying to sneak a glass of water into his hand in place of his sake, but it never quite worked.

"I don't want any babies."

The old man snorted when Megumi said that.

"No bachelor as handsome as you ever wants babies," the old man replied. "But one day yer gonna wake up next to the girl ya love and realize there's somethin' missin'. Then you'll know whatcha want."

Megumi hadn't bothered correcting him, still too busy processing the opportunity—the enormous, terrifying opportunity—that had fallen into his lap that night. Didn't bother telling him that no girl would change the way his brain is wired, or sway his fire-forged conviction.

"Can I get you two anything else to drink?"

"'nother round of sake!" The old man requested jovially. "We're celebratin'!"

"And what exactly as you gentlemen celebrating?"

Megumi looked up from his hands then, towards the server with the smile in her voice.

You.

An apron tied tight around your waist, and a youthful glow in your cheeks. You were probably a few years younger than Megumi, if he was judging right. Maybe 23 to his 28, or somewhere thereabouts.

"Fushiguro-kun here's takin' over the business!" the old man exclaimed, even though nothing of the sort had been agreed upon yet.

You looked over at Megumi, your eyes meeting for the first time, and he watched as your smile grew.

"Well," you said, a cheerful, easy warmth lilting in your voice, "congratulations."

Megumi couldn't bring himself to say anything in reply.

You laughed a little as his eyes skirted away.

"Your next drink's on me, gentlemen."

Megumi sits straight up in his bed, soaked through in a cold sweat. On the other side of the wall, the variety show is still playing, but instead of laughter he hears Yuuji's rumbling snore.

He clutches at his heart, his fingers shaking as he twists them into the sweat-dampened cotton of his t-shirt.

All he can think about when he closes his eyes is the phantom memory of your smile from that night in the early spring five years ago, and how it looks just like Kota's.

[hb-writes]

The Best Gift

Summary: 1925 in the Little Lady Blinderverse. It's Arthur's birthday and Clara is stuck between giving her brother a practical gift, as requested by her sister-in-law, and a gift that Clara thinks her brother really wants.

Characters: Arthur Shelby, Linda Shelby & Clara Shelby (OC)

Peaky Blinders (Little Lady Blinder) Masterlist

Comfy-vember 2024 Masterlist

—

There was a time when Arthur Shelby’s birthdays were celebrated with a grand affair, a time when the whole Shelby clan could be found together—down on Watery Lane or over at the Garrison—but that had all been before.

Before prison. Before the noose. Before their family had cleaved in so many pieces that Clara could barely remember what it was like to have them all in one place. Before John and Arthur stopped talking to Tommy. Before Ada had gone to America. Before Finn had seemed to forget about his sister.

It was odd to be celebrating with just Linda and Arthur, but Clara supposed the understated dinner was more to Arthur’s suiting these days anyhow. He was more subdued now. Clara couldn’t remember the last time she had seen her brother drink something stronger than tea. He occupied his days with fatherhood. With managing their small farm and driving the local elderly. 

It was a simple life, and the way Linda told it, a simple life was what they needed after all that had passed. 

Linda had insisted on keeping things plain. Their dinner menu was what was typical of Clara’s visits—a uncomplicated meal and dessert. Quiet conversation.

It was after dessert that Clara pulled the slim box from beneath the table and passed it to Arthur as he sat beside her. 

There was surprise etched there on the faces of her brother and sister-in-law. Linda’s surprise was rooted in concern, but Arthur seemed pleased, a hint more youthful about the mouth and eyes as he slipped his finger beneath the ribbon and lifted the box’s lid. 

Arthur pulled the leather driving gloves from the box, immediately fitting his hands inside as Linda heaved a breath of relief on the opposite side of the table. 

She had requested that if Clara insisted on a gift for her brother, it should be something practical. No gift at all was preferred, according to Linda, but Clara couldn't be so easily stopped. She wasn't afraid of Linda. Well, Clara was maybe a little afraid of her sister-in-law sometimes, but not enough that she would let it stop her from doing right by her brother.

“I thought they were quite a practical gift—" Clara nodded toward Linda. "—since you’ve been out driving so many cold mornings recently.” 

Arthur placed a gloved hand on Clara’s shoulder, a smile on his face. “Thank you, sister.”

Clara nodded. “Of course, Arthur. Happy Birthday.” 

“A lovely, practical gift,” Linda said as she stood, collecting the dishes as the kettle whistled in the kitchen. “I’ll bring out the tea.”

Clara watched her brother flex his fingers within the gloves as Linda headed to the kitchen, waiting until the door swung shut behind her.

“There’s something more,” Clara whispered, nodding toward the box. “Check beneath the paper.” 

Arthur flashed a smile before digging beneath the tissue the gloves had been wrapped with to retrieve a small piece of paper cut to the shape of a ticket from the Birmingham Picture House. 

‘One free trip to the pictures with Clara’ was written out in his sister’s neat script with ‘Your choice of film, even if it's a Western,’ written below.

“I thought maybe we could go just you and me," she said. "Like old times?”

Clara didn’t say, 'like back when we were happier.' She didn’t say, 'like back when things were easier.' She didn’t say. 'like back when a night at the pictures was normal.'

Clara didn’t say those things, but she wondered if the sentiment was embedded in her words anyway because her brother didn’t say anything as he tucked the ticket into his pocket. 

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Clara offered, pulling her hands into her lap. “I just thought—”

“I want to,” Arthur answered as he held a still-gloved hand out across the corner of the table. “It’s the best gift.” 

Clara looked up to see her brother’s smile, a slight dampness misting in his eyes. Clara slid her hand into Arthur’s.

“A brilliant idea,” he continued. 

“What was?” Linda asked as she returned through the kitchen door with the tea service. 

“Just the gloves,” Arthur answered as met Linda’s gaze. “I’ll try them out on Saturday.”

Clara watched Linda as she searched her memory for what Saturday could possibly be. She set Arthur’s teacup in front of him and continued pouring out Clara’s as she casually asked, “What’s on Saturday, Arthur?” 

“Did I forget to tell you?” Arthur asked. “I have to ride into town. A gentleman wants to spend some time with his family—his sister, I think. Shouldn’t be more than a few hours.” 

Linda nodded, offering a smile to her husband before passing Clara her teacup. 

“That’s very kind of you to drive him, Arthur.” 

Clara sipped her tea, silent as Linda made her own conclusions from the conversation. She wasn’t entirely certain why her brother had lied to his wife, but she assumed it was for the same reason why she had hidden part of Arthur's gift under the tissue paper. Sometimes it was just easier to keep certain things from Linda, and even if it hadn’t been easier, it was nice to share a little secret with her older brother. 

It reminded Clara of simpler times. 

It reminded Clara of when they were happy. 

When Linda turned her back on them, stepping away from the table to return the tea service to the kitchen, Arthur winked at his sister.

Clara failed to stifle a giggle at the gesture and by the time Linda returned, both Shelbys were dissolved in their laughter. Clara hadn’t heard any of her older brothers laugh in what felt like years, but the sound felt right, as if Arthur had never stopped laughing. 

It was Arthur’s birthday, but as Clara watched her brother shake with amusement, his still-gloved hand reaching up to wipe at an escaped tear, she couldn’t help but feel that seeing her brother like this—laughing and happy—was a gift for her. 

The best gift she could ever think of. 

Peaky Blinders (Little Lady Blinder) Masterlist

Comfy-vember 2024 Masterlist

[bloodyjuls-blog]

WHAT IF I LOSE YOU (part 3)

(I will fight to not lose you) - Alexia Putellas

There was a moment in my life where I wanted to give up, where everything was beyond me and what can you expect from a girl who grew up in Sutton running around with a soccer ball and who is now a super star? Life has never been easy, when you reach your teenage years and your social life overlaps with training, match day, recovery days? The only thing left was to do everything from home, from parties to drinking. Everything was easier without my parents at home, to be honest I grew up having everything, a big house, money, freedom and what I loved most after alcohol.... Football. When you become a professional nobody tells you the responsibilities and the exposure you bring with that and even if they say that women's soccer lacks attraction then they should have it checked because the pressure I felt playing for arsenal or city was very high and brought with it the expectation of the Barcelona soccer club to bring a star, to speak on and off the pitch. My younger days I remember with the talks with my parents for not being good enough to be in a professional league, which then when I achieved it would break me little by little because alcohol never left me, the faithful companion of my adventures.... Everything became a problem, I drank until the wee hours and made sure I got enough rest to perform the minimum in my club. Then my sister brings us the news of her pregnancy and I don't deny it, I always wanted to be a mother but there was a moment when my world came crashing down and I rejected the idea.

Flashback

It was the decisive league match for arsenal. We were facing Chelsea for the FA cup and the pressure from above forced us to win. But things always go wrong, that day I think I had one of the worst games of my life. I missed a lot of chances, I was always out of position and the worst thing is that my family was watching me from the stands.

At the dinner with my family, my father very disappointed tells me: "daughter I do not understand you, they tell us to come to see you and you play a shitty game" to which I a little upset I tell him: "if you are not interested then do not come, this is soccer" at the end of dinner the mood is lowered but my father there is something that does not fit, since I tried the first shot of vodka has made me bad faces. While I approach to take Ruppert, already 5 years old, my father takes him away from me and tells me: "I don't understand how they can want you in a club if you are an alcoholic, and much less I am going to allow you to take care of your nephews being in the conditions you are, do you think I didn't notice your flash of whiskey you had in your backpack or that you are going back home drunk, if something happens to you don't even bother to call me because I am not going to come and save your ass, you understand? " My tears were falling from my eyes, he had hurt me in a way I never thought he could. After all he was my father and I was his not so favorite daughter.

End of the Flashback

Alexia pov

"Hello, Ana. Do you know where y/n is?" I ask through the line in a worried voice. "No Ale, the only thing I know is that she had been drinking and left driving the car, I guess I'm guessing she's already in her apartment" Ana replied calmly. "Fuck this can't be" exclaimed Ale as she tried to call you back. "Ah I know who to call, maybe she has information" she thought calmer.

"Hi Leah how are you? It's Alexia" said Alexia calmly "Hi Alexia, well to what do I owe your call?" Answered Leah quizzically "I was wondering if you know anything about y/n, she called me a while ago and left me a little worried" you could tell from Alexia's voice that something wasn't right. "Ale the truth I don't know where y/n/n could have gone, what I do tell you is to please take care of her, and help with the alcohol issue she is not having a good time, and I am worried that something might happen to her" said a little more concerted Leah. "Of course, come on I'll leave you, I have another call coming in."

She answers the other call....

"Hello, is this Ms. Alexia Putellas?" A calm voice asks on the other line. "Who is calling?" answers a curious Alexia. "Ma'am this is the receptionist at Egarsat hospital speaking, I was speaking to inform you that Miss y/n y/l has been involved in an accident and you are listed as the emergency contact" Alexia at that moment felt tears fall from her eyes "yes this is her, tell me how is she? Tell me how is she?" says Alexia desperately "Ma'am the only thing I can tell you is that if you can, please go to the hospital as soon as possible, the emergency reception will tell you where to go" "thank you" says Alexia with an agitated voice.

Note: sorry I know had passed a couple of month but I'm near to graduate and that makes me full time persone and busy schedule. Love you all loads

[ugh-yoongi]

Hullo Hullo! Congrats on 1k!

I think your link to your request guidelines is broken 🤔 or it's my Tumblr app and, honestly, even money either way 🤦🏻‍♀️😅

ANYWAY, my request is 1000 words of the most self-indulgent filthy shit you've been wanting to write but haven't got round to or haven't felt like it or haven't had the opportunity to.

Completely your choice as to pairing (mxm is also fine!). 😘

whewwwwwwwwww boy, thanks for this. i am feeling completely normal and not at all unhinged......

anyway i miss hobi no one perceive me please

wanna show you how

pairing: jungkook x f. reader genre: porn with(out?) plot; this is just 1k of smut idk warnings: hoseok is a voyeur and tells jungkook what to do, oral sex (f. receiving), protected vaginal sex, multiple orgasms. unedited. rating: explicit. minors dni. wordcount: 1.1k

Jungkook doesn’t remember how he got here. Not really.

He remembers meeting up with his friends for barbecue. Remembers moving to some hole-in-the-wall bar in Sinchon. Remembers Yoongi grumbling as he got tasked with ordering everyone’s drinks. Remembers the whisky being too strong, burning as it went down; remembers his hyung smirking out of the side of his mouth at the way he coughed.

Namjoon and Hoseok had been talking about something Jungkook only heard snippets of. Namjoon had gone on a date the night before, spent the night at her place. Had a great time, too, judging by the way he can’t stop smiling, fisting his hands in the denim of his jeans. Seokjin had made a spectacle of it, had hooped and hollered and ignored the annoyed glances sent his way, and then Hoseok had asked—

“Did you try that thing I told you about?”

—and Jungkook’s entire world had narrowed into a pinhole. Because he’d foolishly asked what thing, hyung, and Hoseok and Namjoon had shared a look that hadn’t felt good. Made Jungkook feel like some stupid kid, like he didn’t know anything.

There had been an argument. Nothing serious, more bashful and exasperated than anything, just Jungkook bugging his hyungs again, and Namjoon’s cheeks were aflame the entire time. And maybe there was something to be said about the whisky Yoongi had chosen, because Hoseok had a lot to say, too. Had looked Jungkook right in the eye, his own glassy and warm with affection and a little mischief, and asked, “How do you make her come, Jungkookie?”

You. Hoseok had been asking about you, about how Jungkook makes you come.

It shouldn’t have affected him. Jungkook should’ve said, “Well enough, hyung,” and laughed it off. Chalked it up to alcohol and being twenty-something-year-olds. But Jungkook hadn’t said, well enough, hyung. He didn’t say anything at all. He’d sat there, paralyzed, not saying a thing, until Namjoon returned to earth and said, “Yeah, I tried it, Hob-ah.”

Jungkook remembers all of that.

What he doesn’t remember is how it got to this point. He remembers lingering on it. Remembers how do you make her come, Jungkookie? playing over and over in his mind every time he shut his eyes. Remembers telling you about it a few days later and trying to laugh it off. “Hobi-hyung said the weirdest thing to me the other night,” he’d said, and his Hobi-hyung says a lot of weird things, so you’d just raised your eyebrows and said, “Oh, really?”

And now you’re here, splayed out beneath him, naked and clutching at him as he trails hot, open-mouthed kisses down the column of your throat, your collar bones, the space between your breasts. Jungkook groans when you raise your hips, roll them against him; grabs your thigh and anchors it over his own hip. Every sound you make is breathy and staccato, verging on a whine, and it drives Jungkook crazy. Has him pressing you further into the mattress, grinding his cock against your core, rutting rutting rutting—

Almost makes him forget that Hoseok’s watching.

“Is that what your hyung said to do, Jungkookie?”

It isn’t. Jungkook’s hyung had told him to take it slow, draw it out, make you beg. Jungkook’s hyung said you had to come at least once before Jungkook was allowed to fuck you. Jungkook’s hyung had said, that’s it, like that, and, you’re doing so well, do everything well, don’t you?

So Jungkook pauses, shakes his head minutely. Grits his teeth a little, too, because maybe he listens well, but he doesn’t always want to. Wants to know what kind of self-restraint his hyung would have if he was in Jungkook’s place; if he had you writhing beneath him, if he could trail his fingertips over your soft skin, feel your warmth; if your scent was making him dizzy, your taste.

“Keep going.”

So Jungkook does.

Keeps kissing down your body. Keeps you pressed to the bed, moves your hand from the sheets to tangle in his hair instead. Situates himself between your legs and goes down on you the way he knows you like it, and even if it isn’t what Hoseok told him to do, at least he’s getting a fucking show. At least he’ll be able to hear how good Jungkook makes you feel. He’ll be able to see the way you roll your hips against his mouth, the way you moan, loud and unabashed, when Jungkook suctions his lips around your clit and refuses to let up until tears well in the corners of your eyes.

Hoseok sees the way you come.

Jungkook dares a look as he catches his breath. Wants his hyung to see the flush on his cheeks, the way his mouth glistens with your slick. Wants to say, that’s how I make her come, hyung, with the tang of you fresh on his breath, but the words die on his tongue. Hoseok’s wearing a flush of his own, pupils blown wide, breath unsteady. Can’t take his eyes off of you.

And Jungkook’s got a nasty jealous streak, but it never comes. Instead, he watches the way Hoseok watches you and all he feels is pride, because Hoseok can’t take his eyes off of you but he’ll never touch you the way Jungkook does, never taste you. Hoseok has seen the way you come, but he’ll never know how it feels to be the one to turn you into a trembling, moaning mess.

Jungkook’s still looking when he slips on a condom and pushes inside of you, and he might miss it but Hoseok doesn’t: sees the way your mouth drops open at the stretch, the overwhelming feeling of being full. He rolls his hips, gives you no time to adjust, just the way you like, and smirks at the way you claw at his back. Wants to be a little shitty, wants to ask if he’s doing a good enough job, if Hoseok thinks you’re enjoying it.

But he’d rather show than tell.

He moves his hand to your cunt, rubs at your clit. Laughs at the way you sob, leans down to whisper some filth that’s only for you to hear. Says, “Are you gonna come, baby? I think Hobi-hyung wants to see you come, doesn’t think I fuck you right, but I do, don’t I? I fuck you so fucking well,” and groans when everything gets white-hot and unbearably tight.

Jungkook doesn’t let up. Pulls out only to turn you onto your stomach before he’s pushing into you again. “That’s how I make her come, hyung,” he finally says, tone clipped.

For once, Hoseok has nothing to say.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

To Build a Home

I hope its not too rude to ask this, and if it is please ignore!!! but i would absolutely adore if u could write a fic abt arthur finding out abt Merlins magic and banishing him, morgana (which at this point is already an antagonist) finds him n after a while (figuring out merlin was banished) becomes absolutely furious with Arthur and protective of Merlin, but guess what!! Arthur regrets his decision and doesn’tknow how to fix this or even find merlin!!! – laconiceuphony

Hey! Would you be willing to write some Merlin/Gwaine? I don't really mind what about, but angsty Merlin and hurt/comfort are always good. Thank you <3 – anon

Hey, idk if you’re accepting asks still but if so I’d love it if you would write some h/c with Merlin! I love your writing <3 – anon

Read on Ao3

Warnings: unhealthy coping mechanisms

Pairings: gwaine/merlin, merthur, gwaine/merlin/arthur

Word Count: 5770

"Sorcery is illegal in Camelot." Merlin bows his head, awaiting the swing of Arthur's sword. The metal stings where it kisses his bare neck. A slight breeze as the sword is raised. He closes his eyes and waits for the end. He startles at the thunk of the sword impaling the ground mere whispers from his kneeling body. "I hereby banish you," comes Arthur's voice, only it is cold and foreign and the voice of a King, "do not return to Camelot. Ever." Arthur banishes Merlin from Camelot. Gwaine goes with him and they carve out a little piece of the world, just for themselves. Is it enough?

"Sorcery is illegal in Camelot."

Merlin bows his head, awaiting the swing of Arthur's sword. The metal stings where it kisses his bare neck. A slight breeze as the sword is raised. He closes his eyes and waits for the end.

He startles at the thunk of the sword impaling the ground mere whispers from his kneeling body.

"I hereby banish you," comes Arthur's voice, only it is cold and foreign and the voice of a King, "do not return to Camelot. Ever."

***

Gwaine has never been a man to pursue the 'grand things' in life. Born into nobility that scorned those they deemed less than worthy, competing with a sister that looked at him as though he were the scum of the earth just for daring to want something other than the life of simple easy luxury, and a former knight of Camelot with little to no regard for the formality of that station, no one could ever accuse him of chasing the riches of the high life.

His wants are, and have always been, quite simple. Good food, good drink. A warm place to sleep with a roof over his head. The freedom to enjoy all that which life has to offer. The comfort of another's touch and the warmth of another's laughter.

He comes to Camelot not for riches, not for glory, not for a King or a Prince, but for a friend. A friend met in the midst of a tavern brawl—which was when all the best friends are made—who made him believe that there were things were fighting for that weren't the small comforts. He walked at the man's side, not at his back, and believed that maybe, just maybe, things wouldn't be as he remembered them.

For a time, he was right.

Certainly the other knights were not the typical ones of Camelot's station, save for Sir Leon, who was the last of the Old Knights (his words, not Gwaine's), but that man was an entity all to himself. Elyan, the son of a blacksmith, whose knowledge of armor far outstripped anyone else's that he'd ever seen. Percival, a man who was an army by himself, larger than life. Lancelot, who had come to the knights the same way as he, drawn in by a friend's charm and inspired by his drive.

And Arthur Pendragon himself.

Gwaine isn't sure that if he'd met Arthur before knowing Merlin, he would be as willing to serve him. The man is, well, he's a Prince. A King. A noble born into such that believes he's entitled to it. Is he as bad as some of the others Gwaine has known? No, but that's an impossibly low bar that certain determined individuals have taken hoe and axe to get beneath. Arthur was…a man, yes, and he certainly had the capacity to be a good one. When away from the pressures of the castle, he was one of the knights, joking and laughing with them as though they were blood brothers, not just brothers in arms. And he made rulings that upset those pricks that decreed some should die to serve the rest, caring for the people and supporting them as he should. But he could be careless, inconsiderate, capable of those small acts of cruelty known only to those wielding incredible power without the acknowledgment of what that power could do if not managed correctly.

No, if Merlin had not been the one to introduce them, he would not have been a knight.

Merlin is unique. Not just because he's the Greatest Sorcerer to Walk the Earth, or the Last Dragonlord, or whatever other titles they want to give him. No, Merlin is unique because he's never met a man so achingly of the earth. Merlin is petty and clever and kind and resentful and endlessly loyal and hopelessly bitter. Merlin is just a man standing in the path of a river and the force of the waterfall at its mouth. Gwaine's had too much to drink and Merlin is there, ephemeral and tangible all at once, and he is the best man Gwaine will ever know.

And he is desperately, terribly, irrevocably in love with Arthur.

Those who are blind will say that Merlin's greatest secret is his magic, but he flaunts that at every chance he gets. Merlin's true secret is also not much of a secret, but he will never breathe word of it the way he'll declare himself a sorcerer if he thinks it will spare the life of someone innocent (even if Arthur will never believe him until it's too late). Merlin has tied himself to Arthur in a way that would surely destroy the both of them if the tether were to be cut. Everything he does, he does for Arthur, and it would take a man of impossible strength to come anywhere close to the devotion he shows a man who has no idea who he truly is.

How could Gwaine resist such conviction?

He knows his reputation, knows the fond eye rolls and resigned smiles that he coaxes from the faces of the knights, from Arthur, from Merlin himself. But just as much as he knows that, he knows there is no use in denying himself the truth. Could he pretend not to be in love with Merlin? Certainly, he could, but what would the use be?

He has loved Merlin since he met him in that tavern, loved him since he saw that first spell cast and his eyes turn gold, loved him since he looked at Arthur as though he were the world and felt his own chest twinge with the soft oh that has devastated bards and poets alike. In some ways his reputation protects him, able to flirt so openly and yet have none of the heartache that comes from an awkward rejection when he's taken seriously. There he can hide how much he pines for the man who only has eyes for another, there he can stay by Merlin's side, just standing, watching, there if he needs to be while Merlin hustles after Arthur. Sometimes he wants to shake him, tell him can't you see how precious this is, this love of a man who has decided to give his soul to you, but he won't, he can't, for just as he will never force his love onto Merlin, no sooner will he expose Merlin's heart to Arthur than fall on his own sword.

Then Arthur discovers Merlin has magic and all hell breaks loose.

Merlin is banished and Gwaine, ever the romantic, up and goes with him. He spares not another word for Arthur, his own rage boiling so closely under the surface of his skin that he would surely burn the King alive, and hangs up the red cloak in lieu of spilling blood, riding after Merlin. Merlin, the bastard, tries to convince him not to come, to stay, and he has to choke on his words before getting something out along the lines of it's not worth it if you're not there. And Merlin, who has never once been to the tavern, who does not know what to do with something that is only and solely for him, just sets his mouth into a thin line and allows Gwaine to travel with him.

They wander for a while. They visit taverns, visit Merlin's mother—Gwaine kisses her hand and thanks her for raising such an incredible son and she blushes, pats his cheek and tells him she's happy Merlin has him—and roam the farmlands in search of work. Gwaine's years of wandering alone have given him many friends in out of the way places, so they avoid the patrolling guards and knights and make their way to a small corner of the world where an old farm sits idly, waiting for someone new to come and tend it.

The cabin is small, drafty, lacks a proper fireplace, and the farm has been all but razed by bandits and wildlife alike. Merlin takes one look at the shoddy excuse for a bed and sighs, shouldering off his pack and going back outside to stable their horses.

Gwaine takes the floor for the first few nights and won't hear a word of protest.

Bit by bit, the farm comes back. They fight off bandits and put up fences against the deer, they trade for better seeds and wood to fix that cabin. Merlin uses his magic behind the closed door and they do not go hungry, they do not go cold. They have precious little coin taken from Camelot and they use it sparingly, stretching and stretching until they have enough from the land to take to the nearby village to trade and sell. The markets pass them by when they let them and they go only when it is safe, and little by little they carve out a place for themselves here at the edge of the world they once belonged to.

Merlin doesn't say much. He works and he listens to Gwaine's babbling and he holds his tankard of ale between too-old, too-young fingers, staring into the fire as the nights grow long. He smiles when Gwaine makes particularly bad jokes and he leans into his shoulder when he grows weary. He snaps at him to come up off the floor when the weather gets cold and they squeeze into the too-small bed, knees knocking and elbows bumping. Gwaine doesn't push and nurses his own bleeding heart in the comfort of his own chest.

Then one night, when they've managed to trade for a small barrel of wine, Merlin sets his cup down with a thud and kisses him.

He tastes like wine. He pulls and shoves Gwaine up onto his feet, only letting their lips part long enough to tug his tunic over his head and wrench Gwaine's from his chest. He shoves him down onto the horrible bed and there are hands in his hair, a tongue in his mouth, a knee between his and his chest is aching, splitting, bleeding Camelot red as Merlin gasps against his lips. One of them bites the other and deep purple bruises begin to spread like dying flowers.

When it's over, and they lie chest to chest, too hot and too cold, he looks up at the ceiling and lets his hand card gently through Merlin's hair. Merlin stiffens and rolls off of him, walking across the floor to drain the last of the wine. The firelight dances over pale skin and knotted scars and Gwaine has long ago numbed himself against the desire to kiss them, ask where they came from, wordlessly promise to protect him, but in the dying haze of pleasure, he wonders.

Perhaps in a different life.

Merlin is a selfish lover. He supposes it makes sense; the man gives every other aspect of himself over to anyone who so much as looks in need. When it comes to what he wants, then, he takes and takes and takes. Gwaine is all too happy to give him whatever he desires and tries not to look too smug when Merlin's voice cracks on a moan or his eyes roll back in his head. Merlin talks now, smiles more, and he takes it because Merlin looks happier and that's all he could ask for.

But then, oh, when he comes in to see Merlin hunched over, huddled around a scrap of cloth he knows was taken from one of Arthur's old tunics, well. He is only a man. And so he goes and sets his boots carefully by the door, picks up the blanket warmed by the fire, and drapes it over Merlin's shaking shoulders. He brackets the smaller man with his body, pressing kiss after kiss gently to his clothed shoulder, all the way to the crook of his neck where he lets his lips part just long enough to taste the skin before kissing him there too. He hears and feels the hitch of Merlin's breath and scoops him up, like a bride on their wedding night, and carries him over to the bed, lying him down as though it were the finest of fabrics. For the first time, he allows himself to be gentle, tender, even, as he coaxes Merlin's shaking hands to his own chest, soothes the hitching sobs with soft kisses to his aching throat. He slips his hands under the tunic to feel the soft curve of his hips, his ribs, to smooth along his pale stomach as he tastes salt on Merlin's lips.

"Arthur," Merlin cries, begs, moans, gasps, "Arthur, Arthur, Arthur, Arthur."

Gwaine doesn't kiss him to silence him. He pours his heart out in the gentle slide of their bodies and the touch of his mouth to the vulnerable parts of Merlin that the other man tries not to let him see, and when Merlin has finished, spend drying on his chest, he cleans him up without a word and lets him drift off to sleep. He sits by the fire alone that night, drinking from Merlin's cup, and sighs.

If he can only ever have this, then he will savor it.

***

In the end, finding Morgana feels almost anticlimactic.

He's walking in the forest, alone, while Gwaine rides to the village to fetch something for the persistent leak in the roof, when his magic tingles and he throws up his hand just in time to shield himself from the blast. Morgana launches another with a vicious screech and he deflects it just as easily.

"I'm not going to fight you, Morgana."

"You," she seethes, emerging from the shadows, "all this time, you—"

"I have magic. I was born with it. It is—was my destiny to help Arthur become the One True King of Camelot and unite the land of Albion. I was mistaken in betraying you. Every day I regret it." He sinks to his knees. "If you want revenge, you can take it."

Morgana stares at him. An unfinished spell crackles in her hand. She is the Last High Priestess of the Old Religion and they both know her magic is strong, but his is stronger. Should it become a proper fight, it would destroy them both.

After a long, long moment, her hand lowers and the spell fizzles into nothing. She walks forward, still eyeing him warily. He waits. Eventually, she sighs and offers her hand. He takes it and pulls himself to his feet.

"Why are you here?" Some of the venom leaves her voice. "Aren't you supposed to be helping Arthur?"

"He banished me."

Her eyes widen. "You. He banished you. He tore Camelot apart to save you more times than I can count and he just—what, let you go?"

"He discovered I have magic. Magic is illegal in Camelot."

"Arthur Pendragon is an arrogant, pompous arse, but he is a fool for you. He's been strangely fond of you since Uther made you his manservant," she spits, "and yet he tossed you aside."

He raises his eyebrows. "Are you angry at Arthur for me?"

"I loathe any person who would use and discard someone else so easily. You of all people should understand that."

He bows his head. "I am sorry, Morgana, really. If I…if I'd known—"

She sighs and bids him to walk with her. They weave through the trees, the forest glimmering in the late-afternoon sun around them. Birds call back and forth and rabbits scurry across their path. "I wish you had told me you had magic."

"I wish I had too."

"Why didn't you?"

Merlin sighs. "I listened to someone I shouldn't have."

"Arthur?"

"Kilgharrah. The dragon that Uther imprisoned under the castle. He said that you were sworn to be my enemy, and so I…" He scrubs a hand over his face. "I swear, not a day goes by that I don't wish I'd done it all differently."

Morgana goes quiet for a while as they walk, save for the crunching of her footsteps. "When Morgause took me from Camelot, she told me what you'd done. At first, all I could feel was anger. This…black and poisonous thing that ate me until it was all I had. I never thought to ask her why she never told me that I was the source of the magic."

"You didn't know."

"No." She swallows. "That day…when Arthur put the sword in my hand and told me to protect Uther…I didn't want to kill him."

They walk in silence for a little longer. Then Merlin slowly reaches out to grasp her hand. "Gwen told me about something her father said once."

"Oh?"

"Someone had come to the blacksmith's angry that one of the swords he'd made had been used to kill his child. Her father asked him who it was that truly deserved the brunt of the anger: the one who made the sword, the one who wielded the sword, or the sword itself."

She scoffs. "What's the use in being angry at a sword?"

Merlin squeezes her hand. "That's what I thought, and then Gwen…"

He lets out a shuddering breath and stops walking. Morgana turns, confused, until she sees the contorted expression on his face. She walks a few steps closer, warily calling his name. When he looks up again, his eyes are filled with tears.

"I forged the sword," he says hoarsely, "Morgause wielded it, and you…Morgana, I'm so sorry."

Morgana's eyes widen. Her hand twitches in his. Some vile and terrible fury rises behind her eyes but just as quickly, something else douses it and she looks so young, so old, so tired. With the selfishness of a cold child, she takes two quick steps and wraps her arms around him. He hugs her back and the forest parts just for a moment to allow the two to grieve the versions of themselves killed thoughtlessly.

"Come back with me," Merlin whispers into her shoulder, "come—just come for the night."

"Where?"

"It's not far. We have a farm. And a cabin."

"'We?'"

"Gwaine came with me."

A huff that warms his shoulder. "Of course he did."

Gwaine tries to draw his sword when he sees them, only for Merlin to rush between them, holding up his hands, saying she's not here to fight, she's not our enemy, it's alright. He looks at her, his eyes far more knowing than anyone has ever given him credit for, and shrugs, smiling and welcoming her inside. Merlin spends the rest of the evening in something of a daze, watching the two of them make small talk by the fire. No small part of him wishes that this could've happened in Camelot's halls, where Morgana looked as lovely and radiant and at peace as she did, where Gwaine's hands weren't so torn and scraped and his smile less tired, but they are both here and for the moment, his chest doesn't feel quite so empty.

It's a fleeting sensation.

Two sides of the same coin. The words that have ruled him since he first heard them spoken. The words that still rip his chest apart with every breath, the words that have his magic straining, aching, reaching back towards Camelot with every waking moment. It buzzes relentlessly in his fingers, strains his chest and lungs. It loves Arthur more than it loves him and he can't even blame it, for he left his heart there under the blade of Arthur's sword the day he was banished. Every day he wakes up, hoping to see the inside of Gaius's chambers, that this was all some horrible dream, and he can go with tears in his eyes up to Arthur's rooms and have Arthur tease him about being soft, weak, all with the quiet concern in his eyes that something might really be wrong.

But this is real. This cabin, this farm, this is the reality. He is no longer welcome in Camelot and he nurses that wound constantly. He closes his eyes and wishes away the worst of the pain so that he might breathe a little easier. He closes his fist over his heart and cries when Gwaine is asleep that it might come back to him, that he won't have to mourn its loss the same way he mourns Freya, Will, Balinor.

What is worse is that he knows he's being horrible to Gwaine.

Gwaine, who came with him without asking, without hesitating. Gwaine, who complained not once at how hard it was and how much work they have to do. Gwaine, who loves him, truly loves him, and loves him enough not to leave when Merlin is so clearly and helplessly still in love with Arthur.

He tries to ask him one night, when the tears won't stop coming and he's laid out on his back with Gwaine's mouth gently working over the vulnerable skin of his throat, his hands clasped tightly in rougher, callused ones, why he's here, why he lets this happen, why he's being so kind. It's not fair, he knows it's not fair, and he can't fathom why Gwaine is allowing it.

Because Gwaine is wonderful. He's kind and sweet and attentive and everything that Merlin isn't. He holds Merlin and the amount of love tucked into the embrace is enough to make his head spin. He kisses him like he's grateful Merlin's letting him get close enough to touch him. He loves him like he loves him, and Merlin can't understand why.

"Oh, Merlin," Gwaine breathes and the warmth makes him shudder, "it's alright. Shh, shh, it is. Don't you worry, not right now, just let me care for you."

"Why can't I just love you?" he sobs, hiding in Gwaine's shoulder. "It would be so much easier."

"Shh, shh, shh…that's enough, now." He's caught in a tender kiss that still manages to steal his breath away. Gwaine doesn't move away, murmuring against his mouth. "Just relax, lie back, shh, shh…"

Gwaine never leaves him wanting. If he were someone else, Merlin thinks he could hate him for that.

***

Arthur receives a scroll with the words the edge of the caves at the full moon, come alone, and knows that for the first time in a long, long time, he will truly be going alone.

He rides out under the noses of the patrols and gallops to the forest, making his way to the caves on foot when the terrain grows too steep. He keeps a hand on his sword as he goes, wary of the ambush he's almost certainly walking into.

When he reaches the top, there's a figure in black waiting for him. His hand falls away from his sword as Morgana turns to face him.

"You actually did come alone, I'm impressed."

"You requested it."

"There was a time where you'd never go alone anywhere."

"Yes, well, those days are behind me."

Her eyes flash with anger. "At your own doing."

"What do you want, Morgana?"

"Do you feel no remorse for what you've done?" She steps closer, the wind whipping about her skirts. "For any of it?"

"If you mean stopping you, then no, Morgana, I will not apologize for saving the innocent lives you sought to end." He takes a step too. "Do I regret what happened to you? Yes—I don't know what it was that sent you over the edge, but I wish—"

She laughs, high and loud and merciless, sounding like a murder of crows. "You wish? You wish what, that I hadn't?"

"Yes!' He steps closer still. "I wish that you'd told me you had magic, I wish that we'd been able to work something out together, I wish—"

"That you could've banished me," she snarls, spittle flying from her lips, "is that it? Instead of the wretched sorceress who swore vengeance, you wanted to send me off, pretty as anything, to save your own skin?"

"No!"

"What, then killed me yourself? While I was still Uther's beloved ward?"

"Morgana—"

"Or would you have burnt me at the stake?"

Arthur throws caution to the wind and strides up to her, grasping her shoulders and pulling her close. "I wish I could've stopped this! I wish I'd have known so I could help! I never wanted any of this, I don't want this now, I—don't you think I'd rather have you both with me?"

Morgana's teeth gleam in a cruel smile. "'Both?'"

His hands shudder. His knees quake. A lump appears in his throat and chokes him. "Do you know where he is?"

"What, don't tell me you care now—"

"I have always cared!"

"Liar!" She shoves him away. "You sent the most loyal man in the world off like a disobedient mutt the moment it was convenient—"

"They would've killed him!" He runs a hand through his hair, panting. "There were so many of them, Morgana, I couldn't—what else was I supposed to do? There was no way to stop the knights, not all of them—"

"You are the King," she sneers, "what good are you if you can't control your own knights?"

"I'm not a good King!"

Several birds take off from the forest below. The wind whips up into a frenzy to carry the words high into the sky and scatter them like broken shards of glass. Arthur pants as though blood would come to his lips any moment. Morgana, ever the steadfast, falters.

"I'm not a good King," Arthur says again, his voice thick and his head heavy, "I'm not. I carry on pointless cycles of violence because I lack the courage to break them. I put my trust in people who betray me and don't listen to the voices of my people. I—the only good I have ever done has come of the people who I surrounded myself with and I've managed to ruin that too."

He raises his chin, looking up to the heavens. He looks too young for his armor.

"I am King because my father was King. Nothing more."

Morgana swallows. She walks closer to him and puts her hand on his shoulder. He flinches, not for fear of her, but for shame of himself. For a moment, the two of them stand there, the broken children of Uther Pendragon, and that is all they are.

"Make it safe," she says finally, "then maybe we can come home."

"How," he croaks, "how do I make it safe?"

"Legalize magic. Root out the rot. Be the King Camelot deserves. That we deserve."

He looks at her, still in the half-dark, and carefully covers her hand with his. "Will you help me, as much as you can?"

She swallows. "When you prove to me that it's safe for me to do so."

***

The day word reaches them that magic is legal in Camelot, the candle in the back of Gwaine's mind begins to burn down to the base.

He knows it's a matter of time now. Arthur Pendragon is many things, but determined is perhaps one of his greatest qualities. If magic is legal in Camelot, then their days at this farm, in this cabin, are numbered and those numbers are not quite as high as he once thought.

He doesn't begrudge Merlin's hope. He never has, he never will. He responds enthusiastically to Merlin's renewed vigor, in and out of their bed—the bed, he should start thinking of it as the bed again—and tries to let his smiles slip only at night when no one else can see. Truly, he is happy; the lifting of the ban will ease the suffering of so many people and it's high time Arthur actually used the power he has to do something like this. Innocent people can practice their religion, no one group has to be exiled for an unjust reason, the druids can live in peace without persecution or fear any longer.

Merlin can go home.

He wonders if he'll return with him. He's grown quite fond of this little farm and cabin. Really, though, he knows it's because once he gets back, he'll have to watch the slow dance between the two of them and…and he's not as strong of a man as he pretends to be. But Merlin keeps looking at him with these hopeful little smiles and saying when we go back and when we're there and I hope they're happy to see us and he's weak, he always has been for Merlin, so he smiles and nods and says when we're home.

He comes back from the forest one day and sees a familiar horse standing in the grass outside their door—the door. Arthur Pendragon looks at him with that Camelot red cape flowing over his shoulders and he's every bard's dream of the knight in shining armor, come to claim his lost love. Gwaine walks up to him slowly, face of stone, and when Arthur confesses softly to him about how much he regrets it, how much he's done, and how scared he is now, he reaches out and clasps the man's hand.

"Take care of him," he says, and Arthur vows he will.

He doesn't watch their reunion. He winks flirtatiously until they shoo him off and he's glad of it, tending to the horses with a solemn finality that they pick up on, nudging his face with their noses until he pets them. He dons his own armor—the kind he wears to the tavern and to long feasts—and talks the whole ride back, laughing and joking and teasing the both of them.

Morgana joins them for the last leg of the journey and she looks at him with knowing eyes. He shrugs and she reaches over in the shadows where they won't see and squeezes his hand.

They are friends, then, and that is all they will ever be, and they will kill for each other without hesitation.

His brothers welcome him back. Leon looks at him for a moment too long and he turns away, not willing to have his heart split from his chest so soon after returning. There are things to celebrate, after all, and he is well adept at losing himself in fine spirits and food. The celebrations last long into the night, the next morning, and the next night as well. He doesn't look up to the high table, doesn't entertain the looks and winks he gets from the other guests, and doesn't touch the wine.

Leon catches him in a corner briefly and pulls him into a hug so tender he almost shatters right then and there.

"My door is open," he offers in words only meant for the two of them, "you've been away so long, little brother. I missed you."

The unspoken offer is there and Gwaine has never been more grateful for him. But he can't, not now, not while it is still so fresh, and so he dives back into the fray and laughs and jokes and makes merry.

When the party finally, finally comes to an end, he goes to sneak off to his own little room with a cup of wine when a long-fingered hand catches his shoulder. He knows who it is without having to turn around and knows in the same breath that he will go wherever the hand tugs. He leaves the wine on a table and goes, following Merlin up to the King's chambers. Arthur is already there, his crown laid on the side, pouring more wine. Merlin doesn't let him go as the doors close behind him, which is a surprise, but not as much as the one where Arthur holds out a goblet to him.

"I'm not a very good King," Arthur says, with his voice pitched low as Merlin's hands dance over his shoulders, "and I'm not a very good man."

"You're not that bad," he manages as Merlin's hands slip beneath his shirt.

"You're better than you give yourself credit for."

"I'm not," he gasps as fingers explore his chest, "I'm—I'm really not."

Arthur's hands are warm, callused in the way that his are, but gentle in a way that would make Uther Pendragon roll in his grave. Merlin's mouth finds his pulse.

"You are," he says, and he would never dare argue with Merlin, "you really are, Gwaine."

"You've lived as both a noble and a commoner," Arthur says, even as his hands card through his hair, "and seen the world from both sides. I need help from advisors I can trust. I imagine you have quite the breadth of experience."

The low slide of his words sends heat pooling into his stomach. "I've—I've lived a life, yes."

"Would you consider it? You could be a knight and an advisor." He doesn't have enough blood in his head for his. "I would be grateful for your guidance."

He chokes as Merlin's fingers dip lower and lower. "Is this how you recruit all your advisors?"

"No," Merlin chuckles, "just you."

"I—"

He doesn't have time to say another word before Arthur's mouth closes over his. The King tastes of wine and spice and one hand settles on his hip like a brand. His head is spinning and he feels Merlin coaxing the goblet from his hand.

"I've a lot to learn," Arthur says against his mouth, "so teach me."

"Teach you?"

He feels more than sees Arthur grin. "Unless you think you're not suited for it?"

He slides a hand into Arthur's golden hair and holds his head still, slanting their mouths together until the King is panting, shaking against him, and Merlin is laughing over their shoulders. Another mouth kisses his neck as arms wind around his waist and he smiles into the kiss.

"Shall we begin now, then?"

They've a home to rebuild, after all.

[fangirlingfromdownunder]

Fatherly Comfort

Summary - Part 10 in the Comfort series

Pairing - Dean Winchester x Reader, Reader x Sam (platonic), Reader x Bobby (father-figure)

Warnings - slight angst, mentions of pregnancy

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

A/N - G’day guys, I just wanna start by thanking you for all the likes, reblogs and follows since my last post, I really appreciate it. I hope you like this one too. And remember my inbox is always open for requests or even if you just wanna chat. Until next week, enjoy! 

Night falls and morning rises and Dean still hasn’t returned. You’re sitting in the kitchen alone sipping a cup of tea when Sam walks in half asleep. 

“Have you heard from Dean?”

“Sorry, Y/N, I haven’t. I thought he would’ve been back by now. He’s probably sleeping off a hangover in the Impala somewhere. I’m sure he’ll come home soon.”

“You don’t think he would’ve gone back to his old habits, do you? You don’t think he’s in some other woman’s bed right now? I mean, he said one-night stands are easier…”

“No, no, no way. Dean loves you, so much. No matter how upset or hurt, he would never. Just give him time, he’ll be back.”

“Thanks, Sam.”

Sam pours himself a cup of coffee and makes his way into the library, leaving you alone again. You try Dean’s phone again but you just get the message bank. So you call Bobby instead. Much like how he’s the boy’s surrogate father, he had taken you in quickly too. He answers on the second ring.

“Hey, kiddo, what’s up? What have those Idjits done now?”

“Hey, Bobby, I need some advice, I don’t know what to do.”

“Was it Dean? Did he hurt you?”

“Honestly, I think it’s my fault. Do you think I could come stay with you for a while?”

“You know you’re always welcome here. I’ll make up the guest room and stock the fridge.”

“Thanks, Bobby.”

“Anytime, kid.”

You go to your room and pack a bag, ensuring to slip in your knife and gun just in case. You stop by the library on your way to the garage.

“I can’t sit here and just wait for him to come back. I’m gonna go stay with Bobby for a few days, maybe he knows where Dean is. If he comes back here just tell him to call me.”

“That’s a six-hour trip, do you want me to come with you?”

“I need some time to myself. I have my silver knife and gun, I can handle myself.”

“Please, let me come with you. Dean will kill me if he finds out I let you out of here on your own.”

“I’m not a child, Sam. In fact, I am having one. I can look after myself,” you turn to walk out.

Sam follows you to the garage. “Fine. But call me whenever you stop and when you get to Bobby’s. I’m gonna be tracking your cell also.”

“I will. Thanks, Sam.”

He pulls you in for a brief hug. You pull away and hop into the bright red vintage car, tossing your bag on the back seat. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Around six hours later you drive into the Singer Salvage yard. You’re utterly exhausted. Bobby comes out to meet you, opening the door for you before spotting your bag and grabbing it off the back seat.

“You look exhausted, kid. Come on inside and have a drink.”

You’re so drained you just nod and follow him inside. He takes your bag upstairs to the guest room before joining you on the couch with two open beers. You take one but you don’t drink it, you just swap the bottle from hand to hand inspecting it.

“What this cheap stuff ain’t good enough for ya anymore? That boy been spoilin’ you?”

“No, I’ve actually just recently given up drinking.”

“A hunter that doesn’t drink? That’s new. He knocked you up, didn’t he?”

You don’t say anything. You put the beer on the side table and grab a cushion, pulling it close to your chest. Tears start to well up again as you take a deep breath.

“Aw, darlin’, does he know?”

You nod.

“Alright, then what are you doing on my couch?”

“I’m not sure if I should keep it.”

“And Dean?”

“We had a fight about it…I haven’t heard from him since. He has been nothing but supportive, he wants this baby so badly and I know I hurt him when I mentioned thinking about an abortion. 

He said that our relationship was a bad idea and that one-night stands are easier. I’m scared, Bobby. What if he-”

“I’ve known that boy since he was a kid, he’s loyal to a fault and he loves you. If I know that boy then he’s driving around trying to find a way to disperse all the evil from the world so you have no reason to doubt keeping this baby. Deep down this has always been his dream, and now that there’s a chance of it coming true he’s gotta be struggling. Then you go and say you want to take that dream away from him?”

“Yeah…”

“I also can see where you’re coming from. You’re scared, unsure of how you’re gonna protect your child. Unsure of whether Dean will be able to give all this up and live a normal life with you? Am I close?”

“Yeah…”

“Well, let me tell you something. Those are fears every expectant parent has. I may not have had the chance to have children of my own but you three are pretty close to it. And even without all the demons and spirits and ghouls, I’d still worry about you being safe. Parents worry about how to protect their children from getting sick or hurt. That’s completely normal.”

“So you’re saying for the first time in ages I’m experiencing something completely normal?”

“More or less. Listen, you’ll always worry about the safety of your child, regardless of demons and such, but at least they’ll be surrounded by family who will protect them with their lives and do everything they can to keep them safe from all of this and anything else that comes their way.”

“Thanks, Bobby.”

“Aw hell, it’s getting late and I haven’t even fed you yet. What can I get you?”

“I’d love a pizza, but I think the bean would disagree. Just think of anything Sam would eat and get me that.”

“You got the morning sickness, huh?”

“Unfortunately…”

“Alright, I’ll be back soon. You know the drill, make yourself at home.”

After Bobby leaves you pull out your phone and try to call Dean again. You get the message bank again, but instead of hanging up, you leave a message. “Hey Dean, it’s me, I’m worried about you and I miss you. Please call me, we need to talk. I love you, and I love the idea of raising this baby together, you keep saying we’ll do this together and I believe you-” The beep cuts you off. You get up and go upstairs to shower.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

You wake up to the smell of pancakes, so you get up and make your way downstairs. You find Bobby standing at the stove with his back to you. You spot the orange juice on the table with two plates. 

“I didn’t realise you cooked.”

“Well, good morning to you too.”

“Sorry, good morning, Bobby.”

“I don’t really not since, well you know. But it’s not every day a pregnant woman turns up on my doorstep. You need a fulfilling breakfast, you’re growing my grandbaby.”

“Your grandbaby, huh?”

“Family don’t end in blood, kid.”

“This baby is lucky to have such a caring and protective grandfather. Oh, and orange juice instead of whisky? It’s a weird look.”

“Shut up, ya idjit.”

“I love you too, Bobby. Thank you again for all of this.”

While you wait for Bobby to finish cooking you grab your phone to call Dean again, but you find it’s flat so you plug it in to charge. When it lights up you find 20 missed calls from Sam but none from Dean.

“Bobby, did Sam call you?”

“Yeah, I told him you were here. He said you promised to call. He was really worried about you.”

“I forgot to call him when I got here.”

You call Sam and apologise for not calling and scaring him. 

Over breakfast, you discuss the ongoing demon situation. And then you help with the dishes. As you’re drying up you hear an all too familiar purr of an engine. You turn to Bobby and say, “you called him?”

“Damn right I did. I need to set that idjit straight.”

“Did you tell him I was here?”

“No, but I bet he spotted that sweet red ride the second he drove in.”

“He’s gonna be so mad I left the bunker. I need more time! I don’t know what to say to him.”

“Hey, Bobby! Please tell me you picked up a car identical to one from the bunker!” you hear Dean call out. The sound of his voice makes you freeze.

Dean walks in without knocking but stops as soon as he sees you. You keep your eyes locked on the ground. You can feel his gaze on you. You start to tear up again, guilt filling your body.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Tag list: (Leave a like or comment on this post or let me know below if you want to be added to the tag list for this series)

@bitchwitch1981, @muhahaha303, @justrealizedimmascifygurl, @mcdowell-123, @leigh70, @marvelsmarauder, @losa12308, @tapedeck-hearts, @luvjaida, @peachtxa, @ambearsstuff,

[thedgeofreality]

His good girl

a/n: I kept thinking about officer Elvis and decided I had to write a smut story about it, so here it is!! Let me know if you want a part 2 because I have a few ideas.

summary: You get pulled over by Elvis. He searches you and takes you to the station, but you never arrive as the car ride gets a little wild.

pairing: reader x police officer Elvis

warnings: 18+ smut!!! Big age gap. P in V, oral (m receiving), cuffs involved obviously, married E.

wc: 2.7K

You had finally gotten your own car. So you went out for a drive late at night. Everything was going swell until you saw the red and blue lights behind you. Police, of course, you had to get pulled over on your first drive. Yes, you were going a little fast but why wouldn't you? I'm sure the officer would understand, right?

He got out of the car, in full police uniform and colored sunglasses. You watched him approach you through the mirror, you quickly rolled down your window. "Good evening officer." You said as he stood by your window.

"Good evening ma'am, do you have any idea how fast you were going?" He asked looking down at you. You were taught to always deny everything they were saying so you did. "Hmm no officer, no idea." You said looking up at him.

He sighed. "Well, I’m gonna need you to show me your license and registration please."

Fuck. you didn't have your license on you. "Uhm yes of course." You said and handed him the registration. He took his sunglasses off and you could finally look in his eyes. He looked at the registration carefully and you stared at his face. Shit, he's handsome. Are they all this attractive? Maybe you should speed more often you thought and smiled.

He handed the registration back and leaned down getting closer to you. "Have you been drinking or smoking tonight?" He asked and scanned your face. You shook your head. "No officer."

He nodded. "That's good. So you really didn't have any drink?" He asked, still not fully believing you.

"Well, I may have had one glass of wine." You said truthfully and he chuckled. "Okay, well that’s not enough to get you drunk but just remember that having too much alcohol can cause problems later on down the road. How old are you?" He asked.

"I'm 22, officer." He nodded and stood straight up again, backing away a little. "Mind stepping out of the vehicle for me."

You nodded and got out of the car, standing in front of him. "Good. turn around and face away from me." You faced away from him. "Hands on the car please." He said and you placed your hands on the car. You were getting nervous even though you knew he wasn't gonna find anything. You truly didn't have anything on you. "Good girl. I'm just going to pat you down quickly." He said and you nodded. "O-okay officer."

He chuckled. "No worries, I’ll make sure to be gentle with you. Just relax and let me take care of things."

"Alright." You said and breathed slowly in hopes to calm your nerves. "Good job, sweetie. Now this may feel kind of funny but bear with me okay?" You nod.

You stop breathing for a split second as you feel him start to search you. You were frozen as soon as you felt his touch. His touch was warm and gentle. You felt butterflies rise as he touched your waist and felt your legs. "Nothing yet huh?" He said slowly as he felt one last time.

You chuckled as he stopped and you turned to face him again. You hoped he couldn't notice the blush on your cheeks. "Nope, I told you I'm a good girl, officer." You say smiling at him.

He sighed staring into your eyes. "Well, you know what they say, “Once is an accident, twice is a coincidence, thrice is a pattern”. So maybe it’s time to give up."

"Wait what?" You asked. "Have I done something wrong officer?"

He nodded. "Yes. You lied to me. Twice actually." You looked at him confused. "What when?"

"When you said you were a good girl and when you said you didn't drink anything." He stated and you nodded. "So?"

"It’s against policy for us to accept false confessions so...I think I’m going to need to ask you to come along with me to headquarters." He said and you felt your heart drop. That was not happening.

"I'm not coming with you." You said and he chuckled. "Well, then I'll have to handcuff you." You sighed.

"Here, let's get this over with quickly." He takes out his handcuffs and puts them around your wrists.

"Do you really have to put them on?" You ask already feeling it burn in your wrists. "Yeah, sorry about that. They're standard issue." He replies and you sigh. "Fine."

"Come along, get in." He said opening the back door for you. "Can you lock my car for me?" You ask and get in the back seat. He nods and walks back to your car to lock it. He gets in the front seat and starts the engine.

"There ya go. We'll be at headquarters in an hour. Just try not to struggle too much okay?" He said and you nodded. "Sure. So you always work alone at this hour?" You ask.

He nodded. "Usually yeah. I only work with someone else during the day." He replied. He looked straight ahead at the road.

"That's exciting." You say, smiling at him. Though he wouldn't see anyway. "What is?"

"Just this, us alone." You reply and he gave a slight nod "Oh well sure. But we can't exactly hang out together all day. Besides, you got a lot of explaining to do."

You sigh at him. "I did nothing wrong officer, I told you." He chuckled. "That may be true but I'd rather hear more at the station before I decide whether or not to charge you."

"Hmm... Fine. Can I ask you something?" You say, staring at him through the rearview mirror. "Sure."

You stared at his hands and smiled to yourself. "Do you have a girl?"

"Why do you ask?" He furrowed his brows, looking at you through the mirror. "Well, you're not wearing a ring." You reply and flashed him a smile.

"Well no, not right now anyway."

"So you're single?" You ask and he shakes his head. "No, why?"

"Can't I be interested in the handsome officer that pulled me over?" You say smirking a bit. He chuckles at your response. "You're very forward aren't you?"

"Well yeah, maybe a little." You chuckled. "So what's your name by the way?" He asked.

"Y/N, I would shake your hand, but you cuffed me up, officer." You replied. "Don't worry about that."

"It's okay, I like it." You said smirking and you saw him raise his eyebrow a bit. "Really?" You nodded and hummed. "Well, good for you then." He said.

"Hmm yeah. Too bad I'm sitting in the back seat." You sighed. "Must suck huh?"

You nodded. "Yeah, why don't I get a good treatment?" You asked softly and you heard him chuckle again. "Maybe because you've been caught speeding and driving without a license." You scoffed. "Yeah well... can't I change your mind on this?" You asked and he shook his head. "No dear, you'll have to deal with the consequences."

You then thought of an idea. Of course, you can change his mind. There's no way he can resist and even if he does you at least tried.

You leaned in closer to his ear. "I can be your good girl you know." You whispered seductively in his ear.

"I appreciate the offer but I'm married actually." He replied and you mentally punched yourself. "Then where is your ring?" You ask. "Had to take it off for work." He replied and you hummed.

"Hmm, so you've never thought of seeing someone else? Someone new and younger?" You asked and he shook his head a little. "Nope never felt that way towards anyone."

You got closer to his ear again and whispered "Maybe I can change your mind officer." You leaned closer and gently kissed him behind his ear.

He shuddered slightly as you kiss him. "What if we get caught?" He asked and you smiled, thinking you had finally convinced him. "No one will find out, I promise." You say and gently run a finger over his cheek. "But what if they do?" He asked. "They won't, officer."

He shook his head trying to convince himself this wasn't right. "That's too bad, 'cause I love my wife."

"Oh yeah? So I don't excite you?" You ask and smirk. You could tell he was excited as the tent in his pants was very, very obvious. "Of course not! Why would you say such a thing?" He said with a shaky voice and you chuckled. "I can tell you're lying." You said and kissed the back of his neck. "Fine, fine. Yes, I am lying." He said and you smiled.

"Mm, so why don't you let me treat you well?" You whisper and bite his earlobe gently, playfully. "Okay, okay. Just stop teasing." He said.

"Okay, I'm getting in the passenger seat then." You say and smile. "Good choice." He says and you nodded. You carefully jumped over to get in the passenger seat, making sure not to hit him.  "Hey there." You say smiling and kissing his cheek. "Gonna treat you so well, officer."

"Thank you, I guess." He says and chuckles. "Ah ah don't give me an attitude officer." You say and slide both your hands up his thigh as you were still cuffed. "O-okay." He says and you smirk. You slowly unbutton and unzip his pants, smiling when you see he wasn't wearing boxers. "So excited for me aren't you officer?" You say and grab his hardened cock gently, slowly stroking him. "N-no what are you doing?" He says panicking slightly. Looking down at his cock in your hands for a second before looking back at the road. "Treating you well, come on just give in." You say smirking and stroking him a little faster.

"N-no." He says gripping the wheel tightly. "You are enjoying this I can tell. You're stuttering and blushing." You smirk at him and he sighs. "Uh huh, but please be gentle." He says whimpering slightly as you speed up. "You ready officer?"

"Yeah, just hurry up." He says his voice sounding breathy due to the arousal. You lean down closer to his crotch and kitten lick the tip of his cock teasingly. "Don't rush me, sir." You say. "Mmmhh.. okay sorry." He says moaning softly.

"Good boy." You say, licking his shaft a few times before taking him in your mouth. "Ahh." He moans softly trying to keep his eyes on the road. You slowly start bobbing your head and trace his veins with your tongue. He lets out a groan and his hips buck slightly. You feel his cock hit the back of your throat for a split second, you moan around him. He grips the steering wheel tighter, trying not to make any sudden movements. "Oh god damn." He moans softly. "Doing so well darlin'." He says. You try to take him in as deep as possible and he whines a little. "Christ. Do that again and I'll cum, honey." He says softly and so you take his in as deep as possible again, trying not to gag. You feel his tip hit the back of your throat and then you feel the warm hot liquid shoot in your mouth. He groans loudly as he lets go. You swallow his cum.

You pull his cock out of your mouth and sit back in the seat. "Mm, that was nice, huh?" You say smirking at him. "You're crazy." He says, his voice deep and husky. "How was that?" You asked.

"Fine." He simply said, staring at the road. You sighed. "You can admit I was good."

"Hmm alright, you were good." He says and you nodded. "Thank you, I bet that was the best head you ever had." You say teasingly and he chuckles. "It might just be." He said softly and you smiled. He just admitted you were better than his wife.

"So how old are you?" You asked. He knew you were 22 but he never told you his age. You were sure he was much older and that was good. You liked older men anyway. "I'm 39." He said. Perfect. Exactly what you were hoping he would say.

"Good, I like older men." You say softly and he hummed. "Older men huh? Must have some bad experiences with them." He says and you nodded. "Yeah, but they knew how to please me." You replied and he chuckled. "Interesting."

You were still feeling pretty aroused from giving him a blowjob and you needed relief so without thinking you slipped your hand down your skirt. Resting the other hand on your thigh, the cuffs digging into your skin. He looked at you for a second before looking back in front of him. "What are you doing?"

"Don't worry about it, just keep driving." You say and moan softly as you start rubbing your clit gently. "But..." He said in a whisper. "What?"

"I'm just curious." He said biting his bottom lip. You insert one finger inside your hole and moaned softly. "Just need relief."

He stays silent for a second. "Do you want my help?" He asks and you smirk. "Mm, yes definitely."

He nods and quickly pulls the car over, turning the engine off and looking at you. "Keep going." He said, looking at you touching yourself. You insert another finger and start pumping faster. You moan softly. He leans in closer to you. "Tell me when you're close." He says smirking while watching you more intently. "Mm, I'm getting close." You say and he nods. "That's good, keep going." He said and he felt his cock growing harder again as you continued to touch yourself.

"Good girl." He says softly and put his hand on your thigh. You moaned as you got closer to cumming. He grabs your wrists and moves your hands away from your pussy. He sucks your fingers clean and looks into your eyes. You moan softly at the sight. "Want more?" He asks smirking, letting go of your hand. You nodded eagerly "Yes please."

He leans back in his seat and spreads his legs, patting his lap. "Come here and ride me." You crawl on his lap and take your panties off. Lining him up with your entrance. "You ready?" He asks and you nod. "Then go ahead, honey." He says as he thrusts his hips upward a bit. You slowly sink down on him and moan. "You like that don't you?" He says smirking as he looks into your eyes. "Yeah so much." He grabs your hips tightly. You moan softly as you start moving on his cock slowly. "Oh god." You moan softly and feel yourself get weak, unable to move. He chuckles as you lean against his chest and he lifts your hips a bit. "Mm there, good girl." He groans softly as he starts thrusting up in you. You moan loudly.

"Oh yeah, let it out, honey." He says as he starts thrusting harder and deeper. You close your eyes and hold on to him tightly as you get lost in the moment, focusing on the way he feels inside of you. You grab his shoulder, the cuffs around your wrists making you even more aroused. "So tight, squeezing my cock so bad." He said and you moaned in response. "Keep moaning like that and I won't last." He says sounding breathy once again as he thrusts into you at a fast and hard pace.

You kiss him passionately and he makes sure to return the kiss. His hands tighten on your hips as his hips begin to stutter. You pulled back from the kiss to announce you were going to cum. "Me too darlin'." He says softly.

His thrusts became sloppy and you came on his moaning loudly as you gripped harder at his shoulder. Your orgasm hit you hard and seeing you cum was enough to push him over the edge. He keeps thrusting for a while and cums inside you. You ride your orgasms out before he pulls you off him and sets you back on the seat.

"So am I still in trouble?" You ask and he laughs. "No honey, not anymore." He says and kissed your forehead. He zips his pants back up and turns the engine back on. He turns the car around and brings you back to your car. "Am I gonna see you again?" He asks while finally uncuffing you. And you nod. "Yes officer, just give me a call." You say and hand him your number.

[specialagentlokitty]

Lokittys prompts 2024 part 2

“If I had a flower for every time I thought of you… I could walk through my garden forever.”

“You know you’re in love when you can’t fall asleep because reality is finally better than your dreams.”

"The world's not perfect, but it's not that bad If we got each other, and that's all we have You should know I'll be there for you"

“We could’ve been great you know…”

“I spent years searching for you.” “You should’ve just left me.”

“Everybody has fears, I feed on those fears, I watch them grow.”

“You spent all that time waiting, and for what?” “For you.”

“Meet me the dark.” “What does that mean?” “You’ll know.”

“You didn’t deserve any of this, you deserved so much better.”

“We’re the same.” “We’re a traitor.” “I’m not somebody else’s puppet.”

“You’ve a restless soul.” “Is that bad?” “I suppose it depends on your definition of bad.”

“You’ll be working with our best agent.” “That’s a teenager.” “Shut up or square up bitch.” “As you can see they need to be kept under close watch.”

“You must have wondered if I loved you and I did. Oh god, I love you so much…”

“You’re beautiful.” “I am?” “Like the colour green. Like trees on a rainy day.”

“We can be both human and monster, both these parts live within us. Sometimes the balance tips, and one takes over.”

“Forever describes memories not people.”

“You steal my dreams.” “I hope I turn them into nightmares.” “(Y/N) no.”

“What are you to me?” “I’ll be whatever you need me to be.”

“There’s no such thing as perfection.” “Yes there is. You.”

“I ruin everything.” “No you don’t.”

“That’s an order.” “Bitch you don’t give me orders shut up.”

“I had everything once upon a time.”

“Are you sick?” “Please don’t tell them/her/him.” “How long?” “Maybe a few months if I’m lucky…”

“One day I’ll wake up and forget all that I was.” “And I’ll still be here.”

“You are the oncoming storm.”

“I’ll live all your dreams for you.”

“Everything around us stays the same except for us.”

“Take my hand.” “A weird way to propose but okay.” “No I mean- did you just say you’d marry me?” “No?”

“I like pretty things.” “I’m pretty, do you like me?” “No.”

“Spaghetti.” “This is an interrogation.” “Spaghetti.” “Fine! Can someone get me spaghetti!?”

“What’s your name?” “I don’t remember.” “That’s okay, I’ll help you remember.”

“Look at me.” “Why?” “I just love to look at your eyes.”

“Can we be friends?” “It’s more fun to be mortal enemies.” “Can we be moral enemies?”

“The hero and the villain don’t work together.” “They’re not married either but here we are.”

“If you go down then we all go down.”

“Don’t be stupid.” “I mean I can’t really be anymore stupid than your face.”

“I’m scared…” “it’s okay I’m not going anywhere.”

“Sometimes I just want to throw chairs out of windows.”

“I’m driving.” “You don’t even have a license!”

“Stop speeding!” “Bitch do you wanna get there the safe way or the fast way?!” “The safe way!” “Too bad!”

“…so… what you in for?” “For punching you in the face, why the hell are you in here?”

“Nice tattoo.” “Thanks.” “What’s it mean?” “No idea.”

“You want to go start fires?” “Excuse me?”

“Apparently you’re dangerous.” “That would be correct.”

“Is stealing bread a crime?” “Please stop.”

“I want a drink.” “You have a drink.” “I want a different drink.”

“What wrong with you?”

“Why are you always in trouble?” “Why’re you always dumb?”

“You’re old.” “I know.”

“Do you plan where you go?”

“What made you who you are?”

“I want to travel with you.” “It’s dangerous.” “I know.”

“I want to be just like you.”

“I’ve never seen you smile.”

“It’s just me and you.” “Always.”

“You’re my favourite, but you can’t tell anybody I’m not supposed to have favourites.”

“You’ve been drinking all night.” “And I’m still not drunk enough.”

“You shine brighter than any star I’ve ever seen.”

“I need you to promise me something.” “What?” “Live.”

“I’ll come find you again I promise.”

“I’ll always be here for you.” “Why?” “Because nobody deserves to be alone.”

“Adopt me.” “What? Why?” “Because nobody has ever been as nice to be as you have…”

“You are a masterpiece, you are exactly who you’re supposed to be.”

“Why are you always so sad?” “I don’t know how to be happy.”

“He/she/they never smiles…” “you’ve never seen them/her/him looking at you then.”

“Can we play a game?”

“You’re a shapeshifter?”

“Are you scared of me?” “No.”

“We’re the same.”

“How do you define good and evil?”

“I’ve made mistakes, I know this. But I wouldn’t change what I’ve done.”

“What I create is chaos.”

“I’m so sorry….” “Why?” “For what I have to do…”

“You have to stop smoking.” “It’s the only thing that makes me feel better.”

“If you so much as lay a hand on my spouse I will make sure nobody finds your body, and remember, I have diplomatic immunity here.”

“How do you get away with all this?” “The key is not to get caught.”

“My people will take you home.” “Your people?”

“Oh so scary.” “What until you see what I can do.”

“I’ll punch you.” “You already did!”

“You’re not that bad.”

“Wanna hold hands?” “Stupid question of course I do.”

“I don’t know how to do this.”

“If I help you will you be nice?”

“Can you speak any other languages?”

“You’ll be safe with me.”

“Show me the world from your point of view.”