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snowballseal · 6 months ago

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Pretty Bird

Sylus X Reader

Summary: Sylus is jealous of you giving Mephisto attention. That's it. You tease him when you find out.

Word Count: 2123

Note: Nothing really, hope I did him justice! His dialogue is a little harder for me to nail down.

---

The first time it happens is when you cross to the N109 Zone to accompany Sylus on an “errand”.

The first thing you do when you reach the ornate, empty house - of course - is say hello to your favorite bird.

“Hey there pretty bird.��

Mephisto squawks, bobbing excitedly on his perch as you bound up to him. You grin and give the crow a gentle scratch on his head. He preens under your touch, mechanical feathers fluffing with another quiet, scruffy caw. Adorable.

Despite his unnerving gaze, which you find to be eerily similar to a certain Onychinus leader, you can’t help but love the little bird. For some reason, it always comforts you a little bit to see him perched outside your apartment, or following you around Linkon. He always tries to act like he’s not spying on you, but you know he is, and you know he’s going to report right back to Sylus. Maybe that’s why it’s comforting.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re trying to sway his loyalties.”

Speak of the devil.

“As if,” you snicker, giving the bird one final scratch before spinning on your heels to face Sylus. He sits across the room in one of his big armchairs, eyes glued to the gun he’s loading, face carefully blank. As always. You saunter over and pop yourself onto the arm of the chair, bumping his shoulder. “You know Mephisto doesn’t listen to anyone but you. I’m just like the fun mom who gives him things.”

His lips twitch ever so slightly, “Mmm, does that make me your husband in this situation?”

Heat creeps up your cheeks.

You are no stranger to Sylus’ flirty nature. That’s how things have always been between you, though it only really gets to you now. Before, when you kind of hated his guts, it was just annoying. Well, maybe even then-

“You wish,” you retort, but there’s no hiding the blush painting your cheeks.

“Hm, I thought you knew me better than that, sweetie.” In an instant, his hand curls around your wrist, giving it a sharp tug that knocks you off balance. You let out an undignified squeak, tumbling right into his lap. And before you can squirm away, Sylus locks an arm over your legs, keeping you trapped against him. Those red eyes freeze you in place, dark and warm with mischief. “Why would I wish for something I could so easily take?”

You stare at him, eyes blown wide, face completely red now. You can’t even form any words in response, which seems to amuse him even more. A smirk curls his lips, and he gives your hip a playful pinch.

“What? Crow got your tongue, sweetie?”

You sputter, finally finding your voice, “Sylus!”

“Good. Now that you’re focused, we can go handle business.” Sylus sets you on the ground, making sure you’re steady before he stands nonchalantly and tucks his gun in its holster. Like nothing just happened! “We don’t want to be late now, do we?”

Before you can even say anything more, he’s heading for the door. It takes a few seconds to shake yourself from your state of shock, and then you’re quickly following after him.

“Sylus-!”

He cuts you off, that stupid, attractive smirk still on his lips, “And by the way, try not to spoil Mephisto too much, sweetie. He’s grown rather petulant when you’re not around.”

You’re pretty sure your blush sticks around for the entire car ride after.

---

The second time is when you visit on one of your off days.

When you get there, Sylus is still asleep. You take a moment to crouch by his bed, a fond smile adorning your lips as you take in his peaceful face. You remember when he used to sleep sitting up, so he was ready for anything, but now he looks relaxed. Though you still spot the gun tucked under his bed.

Deciding not to bother him, you quietly make your way back out to the living room and grab a book. It’s about the only way to pass time in the N109 Zone, at least, without getting yourself into anything dangerous. As soon as you sit down, Mephisto flaps across the room and lands on your arm, plopping himself down into your lap like a cat.

A giggle escapes you when the crow throws his head back, looking up at the most awkward angle you can imagine. You give his beak a little rub, and he makes a soft clicking sound, beady red eyes falling shut.

“I swear, it’s almost like you’re a crow with cat programming,” you hum, mostly to yourself. Mephisto ruffles his feathers, though, at the word ‘cat’, eyes flashing back open. You snort, easing a hand over his wings, “No worries, pretty bird, no cats. I’m just kidding.”

He settles back down, seemingly embarrassed by his reaction, which only makes you want to coddle him more. So cute. If only Sylus would be this cute with you. Heat tinges your cheeks at the thought of the tall man resting against your lap, looking up at you with softly narrowed eyes, humming in content as you pet his ha-

Snapping your book open, you throw yourself into the story in hopes of banishing such rogue thoughts. If Sylus knew what you were imagining, he would tease you for years. You really don’t want to feed his ego even more. Mephisto wedges himself between your arm and your side, happy to just fall asleep as you read, oblivious to your inner turmoil.

It doesn’t take you long to actually get immersed in the storyline, though. So much so that you don’t hear the steps coming up behind you.

“It seems you come here more often to spend time with Mephisto than with me.”

You practically jump out of your skin when a strong arm circles your shoulders. Sylus’ voice is a low rumble in your ear, thick with sleep. He leans over the back of your chair, and you narrowly miss the way he eyes the bird in your lap with distaste. He looks far too content curled up on your lap.

“I didn’t want to bother you while you were sleeping,” you hum, closing the book.

He grumbles, sleepy eyes shifting to bore into you. The smallest pout pulls at his lips, and you have to stifle a giggle as you reach up to smooth down his messy hair. Sylus leans into your touch, much like Mephisto did, his eyes flickering shut. Okay, maybe he is just as cute.

“Are you mad I didn’t come cuddle with you?” You tease. Sleepy Sylus is definitely your favorite Sylus. “I didn’t know the big, bad Onychinus leader likes to snuggle.”

“It’s simply to ensure you don’t cause trouble in the N109 Zone,” he murmurs, still just as quick-witted though he’s half-asleep, “I can’t have my kitten wandering around all by herself, now can I?”

“I was just reading, Sylus. No trouble here.”

“Hmm, then you might as well come read in bed.”

You hesitate, fingers tracing along his jaw lightly, “You sure I won’t disturb your sleep?”

Those dark eyes blink back open lazily, a rare, genuine smile dancing in their depths, “Trust me, kitten, my sleep will be much better with you at my side.”

God, you’re weak for this man. Mephisto squawks his complaints as you lift him from your lap, but takes off to his perch without much fight. Sylus feels a flash of victory as you intertwine your fingers. The sensation of your small hand in his eases the strange tightness in his chest whenever you’re apart. He curls his other arm around you possessively, sending the bird a smug smirk.

You catch it this time, lifting a brow as you glance between him and Mephisto. Your brain stalls. Was he…jealous? No way. There’s no way Sylus would be jealous of you spending time with his bird. He’s more mature than that…or maybe not, you realize as he drags you back to his bed, only to lay himself over you like a large cat, using your lap as his pillow. Exactly as you imagined.

Your heart flutters a little, which you’re sure he hears somehow, because he squeezes your waist teasingly. You pinch his cheek lightly before running your fingers through his snowy hair. It’s always softer than you expect.

“Go to sleep, Sylus,” you murmur, voice far too fond, “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

He hums, and you can feel the sound vibrate through his body. Almost like a purr.

God, you don’t even have a chance, do you?

---

The final time is when you visit the N109 Zone to attend another auction with Sylus. And this time, you catch him in it.

“Where’s Mephisto?”

Sylus’ face sours at your question. You bite back a smile.

Ever since the day you spent napping in his room, you haven’t been able to escape that thought swirling in the back of your mind. So you decided to test your theory. Sylus is always messing with you, afterall. It’s only fair you get a bit of revenge.

“I sent him out to gather intel,” Sylus huffs eventually. Why do you always look for that d*** bird first? “That is his purpose, afterall.”

“Oh.” You feign sadness, letting out a long sigh. “That’s too bad! I brought him some treats.”

“Well, you can leave them here. I’m sure he’ll eat them later,” he says, voice dismissive as he fixes the cuffs of his coat.

“Hmm-” You slowly make your way over to him. Those perceptive eyes narrow on you, watching you carefully while you straighten his collar. “Will he be here later? Maybe I can give them to him after the auction. I miss my pretty bird.”

Amusement curls in your chest when you see the man’s brows twitch ever so slightly. He’s really annoyed. Now you understand why he loves pushing your buttons so much.

“No, I’m afraid he’ll be busy all night.” You can practically hear him gritting his teeth. Almost there. You keep your eyes focused on his coat, avoiding the intensity of his gaze. He’s trying to figure you out and you’re scared that if you look up, the laughter you're holding back will break loose. Instead, you put on an exaggerated pout.

“That’s unfortunate. I was really hoping to see him tonight.”

Sylus growls. Actually growls in annoyance.

“Would you prefer to have Mephisto on your arm tonight instead of me?” His words come out biting and harsh, tinged with unmistakable jealousy.

The air goes silent.

Before you burst into a fit of giggles. Sylus’ eyes widen when you collapse against his chest, your entire body shaking with laughter. He freezes, though his confusion quickly gives way to realization.

You were playing with him.

“I suppose this is some form of revenge,” he hums, shaking his head. It’s surprising it took him so long to catch on. With anyone else, he’d be beyond angry, but your laughter is so bright, so infectious, that he can’t stop the small smile that pulls at his lips. When you finally look up at him, tears glint in the corners of your eyes. Who thought this would amuse you so much?

“You’re jealous! The Sylus is jealous of a little bird. His bird.” You bite down on your lip in an attempt to muffle the giggles that keep coming, but it doesn’t do much to help. It’s just too much for you. You never ever thought you’d see Sylus actually jealous of someone, let alone an animal.

Sylus narrows his eyes, though they glow with a certain fondness. “Such a sadist, sweetie, messing with a man’s heart so lightly.”

“Oh, but your reaction was so adorable,” you sing, reaching up to poke his cheek. He playfully bites at your finger, making you draw it back quickly with another laugh. “Just the fact that you could even think I like Mephisto more than you is so silly. I couldn’t help myself.”

“Hmm, then I’m afraid you’ll just have to prove my silly conclusion wrong, won’t you?” His hands settle on your waist, drawing you closer to the warmth of his body. You oblige him, stretching your arms up and around his neck to draw him down.

“Of course. I can’t have my pretty bird walking around thinking he’s second best,” you tease, fingers curling through his hair. “Even if he has a jealousy prob-”

“Quiet.”

Anything else you say is muffled as Sylus finally kisses you.

Safe to say, after that, you make sure to give Sylus extra attention, especially when Mephisto is around. (Though you do still sneak him treats when Sylus isn’t looking.)

#lads sylus #sylus x reader #sylus x you #lads sylus x reader #love and deepspace reader insert #love and deepspace #love and deepspace sylus x reader #x reader #reader insert #jealousy #love and deepspace sylus

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teamred · 6 months ago

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after midnight

✩‌ logan howlett/wolverine x mutant!reader | smut | 1.8k

SUMMARY | logan hates that you never listen to him and you can't stand how he still treats you like a kid. but tonight's your chance to change each other's minds.

WARNINGS | smut, breastplay, oral s*x (male receiving), piv s*x, power dynamics

RATING | explicit

NOTES | this is more dialogue and tension than smut, but i hope y'all still enjoy!

The X-Mansion at night is eerily quiet, a peaceful respite compared to the bustling energy during the day with the swarm of students walking around. Despite the stillness, some nights, like tonight, make sleep hard to come by.

You carefully tread down the stairs, through the halls, and towards the communal kitchen to grab a drink.

With the flick of your hand, you open the fridge, its bright light illuminating you amidst the darkness, and glance at what’s available.

Times like these, you wish there was something stronger than soda available, but you settle on a bottle of ginger ale and levitate it towards your hand. You will the fridge to close behind you as you make your way to a high stool by the kitchen island.

“Shouldn't be walkin’ around in that outfit, bub.”

Startled, you whip your body around, clutching the bottle to your chest and holding your hand out, an instinctive fighting stance. You relax at the sight of him leaning against the doorframe.

“Jesus Christ, Logan…” you exhale, shaking your head.

He turns on the low lights above the kitchen counters. His hair is tousled from sleep, and his usual scowl is plastered on his face.

Your eyes sweep over his sleep wear—a simple fitted white tee and grey sweats. Then you glance down at yourself—black booty shorts and a loose crop top. Sure, what you wear to bed is a little risqué, but it’s comfortable.

“What are you—my dad?” you shoot back, sipping your drink and leaning against the counter.

Logan rolls his eyes, crossing the room to grab a Dr. Pepper from the fridge.

“You should put on a robe or somethin’,” he grumbles. “The kids could see you.”

He reaches to untwist the cap, but you beat him to it, using your powers to unscrew it with a swish of your fingers. The cap clatters onto the island, a bit louder than you intended.

“You know, kids aren’t exactly wandering around the mansion at 3AM,” you mutter.

He downs half the bottle in one go and you can’t help it, but you’re enticed by how his Adam’s apple bobs with each gulp. Your eyes sweep over him again, noticing how the shirt stretches perfectly over his body and the outline of his length underneath his sweats.

Logan may be an asshole, but at least he’s an attractive asshole.

When he finishes, he tilts the bottle towards you with a sneer.

“Yeah? Look who's talking.”

In a flash, you swipe his drink into your hand and shove him against the edge of the counter. He stumbles, almost falling to the floor, and snarls a curse.

Your nostrils flare as you close the distance between you, fists clenched. “When are you gonna take me seriously, Logan? I’m about to become a professor soon.”

He stands up straight, towering over you and matching your intensity.

He grits out, “When you finally start listenin’ to me.”

You scoff, the bitterness rising in your chest. “Oh, so that's what this is all about.”

You shake your head, finding it all too familiar. Coincidentally, this was why you couldn’t sleep tonight.

Logan jabs a finger towards you. “You never listen to a goddamn thing I say during training, always throwin’ yourself into the danger and I’m the one always pullin’ you out.”

“It's just the Danger Room!” you whisper-shout back, not wanting to wake others. “And you do the same shit all the time, Mr. Hypocrite.”

“Because I can handle the risk."

“And what? I can't?”

“Don't get cocky with me."

You step closer, merely inches away from his face, and raise a brow, meeting his glare with a defiant smirk.

“What are you gonna do, Logan? Bend me over your knee and teach me a lesson?”

The words are meant to taunt, to push his buttons, but they come out with an edge you didn’t expect.

Something daring.

Something that challenges Logan.

His gaze darkens, and the room fills with a charged silence. His breathing turns heavy, his eyes fixed on you like he’s ready to pounce.

“I just might.”

The tension snaps.

You’re unsure who moves first, but it doesn’t matter because you’re on each other, the kiss raw, messy, and all-consuming.

It’s a clash of hunger and fury. Lips crashing, teeth nearly clashing. His hands seize your bare thighs hard. Likewise, your nails dig into his muscled arms and shoulders. His groan turns into a guttural growl at the bite of your touch.

Effortlessly, he hoists you up, and you wrap your legs around him before he sets you down onto the cold tiled countertop. His hand snakes its way up your shirt, calloused fingers finding your nipples, rolling and pinching them ruthlessly.

One gasp escapes you, then another as he thrusts his thigh between your legs; the friction is delicious against your aching core.

“Tell me you'll listen to me,” he rasps the demand, his mouth now sucking and biting down your neck.

Initially, you shake your head, but he twists your nipple hard, dragging a sharp moan from your throat.

“Yes,” you moan.

“Yes, who?”

“Yes, Logan,” you seethe, detesting how weak you are under his touch, but you can’t control yourself.

He chuckles irritatingly, brushing your neck upwards with the tip of his nose, until he presses his mouth against your ear. “You gonna do as I say?”

You nod. A desperate whine escapes your lips as he presses his thigh harder into you. Your body’s inflamed, craving more than just this from him.

“Then get on your knees,” he commands. “Show me what you got.”

As if under possession, you jump off the counter and fall to your knees as Logan switches spots with you. He drops his sweatpants towards his ankles and holds his cock in front of you, stroking it.

You almost salivate at the sight. Not that you’ve ever imagined fucking Logan, but it’s unsurprising how long and thick it is.

You start off with chaste kisses and darts of your tongue. A touch here and there to torment him. Minutes pass, and when he's had enough, he's about to say something until you suddenly take him in as much as you can.

You channel all your desire and frustration onto him in the form of crude pleasure to prove yourself.

Your tongue swirls. Licks up the precum leaking from his slit. Mouth sucks on his tip so hard, Logan's gripping your head roughly, groaning a plea for you to slow down. You disobey and relax your throat, allowing him to hit the back of your throat.

He practically has to rip you away to avoid an early end to all of this. His mouth is back on yours again with his drenched cock pressed up against your thigh.

Logan leads you to be on the counter once again. Impatiently, or perhaps it's laziness, his fingers deftly drag the fabric of your shorts and underwear towards one side to prepare for his entry.

And he doesn't even ease into it, knowing how wet you are from just a whiff of the air.

He's not gentle, and you don't want him to be. You yearn for each deep thrust, letting his fullness fill you to the brim.

“Is this what you wanted?" he growls. "Me fucking some sense into you?”

“If that’s what it takes to prove to you I’m not a fucking kid anymore, then—fuck—yes…”

He answers every moan you make with a deeper plunge. However, the moans rise to cries. Logan puts a hand over your mouth, drowning them out.

In turn, the suppression of it only accelerates your climax and somehow draws out your powers. Utensils shake, along with the cupboards.

“Sweetheart,” he warns with a low chuckle, still keeping a steady pace, “you’re gonna wake everybody up.”

“Don’t care,” you say, words muffled behind his hand. “Just keep fucking me. Don’t stop, don’t stop—”

Everything shakes in unison with your body’s trembling. You whimper Logan’s name, eyes fluttering, until you come undone around his length.

The kitchen slows its shaking as you come down from your high, and he pulls out, jolting his thick release onto your inner thigh with a sharp moan.

Both of you are still, listening for any sign of footsteps or voices of anyone that is coming to investigate the noises. But the mansion is still quiet as a mouse, save for your rigorous panting and the hum of the fridge.

Logan draws his pants back up and reaches for the paper towels. He holds them out in your direction, and, without ever touching it, you rip one off, wipe away the mess, and toss it into the garbage.

Jumping off the counter, you adjust your clothes, but not much is needed since nothing ever came off.

“So,” he says after catching his breath, reaching for his Dr. Pepper behind you. His body presses slightly against you, the warmth of his body radiating onto yours. “You gonna listen to me from now on?”

“That depends.” You drag your ginger ale towards you with a tilt of your head. In sync, you chug your drinks. “Are you gonna treat me like an adult from now on?”

“I’ll try, kid,” he says, a rare smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. You shove him playfully at the label and he chuckles. “Sorry, it’s outta habit.”

“But seriously,” he continues, his expression hardening into his usual tough one. “You know that I only say those things to look out for you.”

That catches you off-guard. You search his eyes, revelling in the sincerity of his words.

“I know, Logan,” you smile and nod. Leaning in, you kiss him tenderly on his cheek and begin to walk away. “Try to get some sleep.”

When you’re about to leave, he calls out your name softly, causing you to turn around.

“If you ever have another sleepless night, come find me.” He closes the distance and pins you down with an intense stare and a smug arch of his eyebrow. “I still have to properly teach you a lesson over my knee, y’know.”

“Is that so?” you challenge. “Even after everything that happened tonight?”

“Tonight was just a preview,” he whispers. He lifts his hand to palm your cheek, his thumb caressing your skin. “I need to keep you in check so you won’t forget.”

You're drawn to him, wanting to close the gap with a kiss.

But you decide against it, not wanting to let him win this round.

“I’ll think about it."

Turning on your heel, you saunter away. His eyes track every move, every sway of your hips in those tight shorts, drinking in the sight of you until you disappear from view.

Despite your tentativeness, Logan’s determined he’ll have another taste of you soon enough.

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #wolverine smut #logan howlett smut

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mymindisneverhere · 2 months ago

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FAVORS (7)

Part Seven

warnings: 18+, MDNI!, SMUT, sub/switch!Terry, soft dom!black fem OC, bdsm bondage, handjob, oral sex (male receiving), unprotected sex, dirty talking, ANGST, explicit language, lots of dialogue, (forgive me if I missed any)

heads up: 7k word count

Masterlist

*1 Month Later*

Terry laid on his back, jaw clenching, as he struggled to stay silent. His arms were pressed firmly against his torso, unable to move from his sides. She had wrapped him tightly in plastic wrap and pushed him onto the bed. He was struggling yet again to keep his composure while she stroked him.

His only rule for the night:

“Don’t make a sound and you get to fuck me however you want.”

Khloé wore a red lingerie set that showcased her nipples and gave an opening to her sex. Her legs were covered in matching net stockings that hooked onto her panties. After teasing him for the past hour, placing kisses on his neck and ears, rubbing her ass against his crotch and opening her legs to give him a clear view of her wetness, she decided to stop toying with his mind and toy with his dick.

She wasn’t making it easy on him whatsoever, cooing as she watched his eyes roll into his head. She stroked his dick, spitting on it and biting her lips.

“Keep those beautiful eyes on me.” She stroked his dick, biting her lip as his eyes slowly focused back onto hers.

“You’re being such a good boy.” She teased, running her tongue across his tip.

His struggle was the best part of it all, watching his head fall back when she’d let up a bit and shoot back up when she took him into her mouth. The only sounds she could hear from him was his staggered breathing. She moaned as she sucked him, popping him out of her mouth when she pulled away from him.

“I think you love being treated like this, don’t you Mr. Richmond?” It was a test to see if he would have the nerve to respond.

All he could do was nod his head as his body jumped with every stroke from her. She laughed at his response before pushing all of him into the back of her throat. She bobbed her head up and down slightly, fucking her throat as her own eyes began to roll into her head. He tasted so damn good to her.

She sat up and hissed, spitting on his tip then using it to continue stroking him, this time with two hands. “Mmmm, I can’t wait to look at you while you fuck this pussy.” She worked him over, the wet sounds of her hands rubbing against him was bringing his nut to the forefront.

He sat up as much as he could, nails digging into his skin as she pulled his orgasm out of him. His thick eyebrows knitted together as he bit down harshly into his bottom lip, holding in the moans and curses that would’ve left his mouth by now.

“Oooh good job Mr. Richmond.” She smiled, watching the cum shoot from his dick, not bothering to stop her strokes. “You can sound off now.”

“Shit, ahhh, fuck.” He let out every word that had built up in his voice box. He’d catch his breath for a split second before feeling her squeeze his tip again, causing a small exhale to leave his lips with each tug. She finally let him go and stuck her fingers in her mouth, consuming whatever residue she had left of him on her hands.

“Where do you want me?”

“Mmmm, you’re making me so proud daddy.” She stared up at him as he dug into her, each stroke stronger than the one before it.

He grunted from her tightness and the sound of her sweet voice. Pressing her knees into her shoulders, he watched as he went in and out of her. The creaminess from her opening coating his dick let him know he was hitting the right spots.

She watched his expressions, much different than they were before. They were serious, dominant, vicious. Nothing in his face expressed ‘bitch’, it was like a switch had flipped. She loved every bit of it.

Her eyes fell low as she tried her hardest to remain the actual dominant in this scenario. But the longer he stroked her, the more she could feel her dominance stripping away, almost as if they were exchanging personas. Her mouth dropped open as she began to speak to him but the bliss was too much for her to say a word. She held onto the back of her knees as she rocked back and forth from the slight force of his strokes.

He ran a thumb over her clit while he continued his motions. She threw her head back from the double sensation she was getting. Her cursing him, calling him daddy after every sentence, caused a low growl to rumble in his chest as his strokes increased in speed.

“Oh fu-“ was all she could say before she felt herself cumming. The gushy sounds of her releasing on him had awakened a different beast within him.

“Why’re you so quiet? Let that shit out.” He asked, teeth gritted, not letting up on her one bit. He drilled into her, not giving her the slightest moment to recover from her climax. He was finally getting his lick back.

She looked up at him, pissed from the fact that he had her in such a compromising position and there wasn’t much she could do about it. He had her pinned underneath him, she could barely sit up without a struggle. Eyebrows curling from the insane amount of pleasure she was feeling, she grabbed onto his forearms tightly, her fresh full set making small curves into his tattooed arms.

“Fuuuuck.” He groaned, staring down at her entrance. He didn’t change his rhythm one bit, repeatedly hitting her spot. “That pussy cummin’ again.”

She gasped as she felt another orgasm building once again. “Ughhhhh, I’m cumminnnnn!” She cried out, eyes shut as she shuddered under him. He gave her a few more strokes until he felt his own orgasm bottling up in his abdomen.

He quickly pulled out of her, releasing onto her stomach, letting a few drops hit her clit while she twitched from the aftermath of her own climax. He yanked at his dick, relieving himself for the second time within an hour, feeling the strong effects of his climax.

“Mmmm, I love that dick.” She smiled, eyes closed as she continued moaning from the ride down. “Kiss me.”

Khloé stood in the mirror, applying her skincare layer by layer. Fresh out of the shower, her and Terry were both in the bathroom getting dressed for the day. She tapped her product into her face as her eyes darted across the mirror, watching his every move.

They had spent the last month under one another almost everyday. When Terry wasn’t working he was at her house, following her orders, listening to her daily rants, holding her until she fell asleep, going wherever she wanted to go and fucking her whenever and however she wanted to be fucked. He was truly at her beck and call but he genuinely enjoyed it. Terry was loving her company, happy that he had something and someone to look forward to after a long day of lifting heavy boxes.

Khloé didn’t have a feeling of infatuation with Terry, she felt a secure sense of certainty. It was because she didn’t have to question whether he enjoyed being around her or not. On days where she didn’t give him any orders, days where he was free to do as he pleased, he’d still come over just to spend the day with her.

Terry didn’t look at her crazy or judge during the times her inner child would appear. She’d dance around her condo, singing into a hairbrush. She’d binge watch her favorite childhood cartoons, laughing at the silliest things and he’d be there. Not bothered by her presence, unmoved when she had her random mood swings. He’d just be there, letting her be all of who she is, allowing her to showcase the parts of her that would be rejected by the ones she loved most.

The more time they spent together, the more Khloé was growing attached to him. She was in love with him. She’d randomly throw out questions about marriage and children, not wanting to make it obvious that she may have wanted it all with him but simply to check where his mind was. His response was always “You never know what the future holds.”

Khloé took that as a sign that he’d be open to it. The more she pictured a future with them together, the more the fantasy was becoming more tangible for her. She was so caught up in the bliss of it all, she just hoped that-

“Summer still hasn’t called me back yet, it’s been two weeks.” Terry frowned down at his phone, staring at his call log.

“Maybe she met someone,” Khloé started, trying to take his mind off of Summer. “She’s caught up in his company, just like you’re caught up in mine.” She smiled at him through the mirror.

Terry looked up at her, meeting her gaze in the reflection, his mind filled with all sorts of thoughts but he brushed them away. Assuming the worst didn’t do him any good. Accepting that Summer probably did find someone put his mind at ease, only temporarily though. Khloé could see the gears turning in his mind so she continued speaking, keeping him present in the moment with her.

“Let’s go out today.” She quickly changed the subject, looking at him again through the reflection in the bathroom mirror. He had a towel wrapped around his waist as he brushed his hair.

“Where to?”

“The park or the lake.” She started. “I wanna have a picnic date, get some snacks and drinks and enjoy the weather.” She walked over to him and hugged him from behind. The smell of his body wash was intoxicating to her. She pressed the side of her face against his back, feeling his muscles flex as he brushed his hair. It didn’t take much for Khloé to be turned on by him, she was always ready to take him whenever she saw fit.

Terry’s movement stopped as he reached down to grab her wandering hands, already knowing where they were headed. “We won’t make it to the park if you keep harassing me.” He joked.

“Well stop flaunting your body and maybe I'll stop draining you.” She shot back, tilting her head to the side to look at him through the mirror. He shook his head and continued brushing his hair.

They finished getting dressed and headed to Lake Flora. Khloé wore a white long flowy dress, white sandals and her signature red lip. Terry dressed comfortably, wearing a simple white T-shirt, jeans and white Air forces. They hadn’t meant to coordinate on purpose however Khloé took that as a sign that further proved that her fantasy would soon become reality.

Fishermen, large families, small children and couples filled the lake area as they searched for the perfect spot to relax. After a few minutes they spotted a large tree and quickly made their way to it before anyone else could.

The two sat on a large blanket under the tall shade tree. All sorts of snacks and drinks were packed in the basket Khloé brought along, providing them with plenty to eat. Finger sandwiches, fruits, crackers, chips, water and wine covered the blanket as they settled in.

“Can I ask you something Mr. Richmond?” Khloé asked, popping a small grape into her mouth.

“Of course.”

“Why don’t you ever talk about yourself?”

Terry shrugged, looking around before he answered her. “I like listening to you speak.”

“But I wanna hear about you.”

Terry sat forward, reaching for a small sandwich. “What do you wanna know?”

“What’s your family like? Your parents, your siblings?” Khloé began. “What did you wanna be when you grew up? How was it being in the Marines? Anything!”

Terry chuckled at her excitement to know more about his life. He looked up at her for a moment, staring at her as the sun danced against her gorgeous skin. He wasn’t one to open up about his life. Too many disappointments made it harder for him to want to set himself up to be let down again.

“Please?” Khloé wined playfully, blinking her eyelashes to appear innocent.

Terry shook his head at her before taking a deep breath. “My grandmother raised me, I never met my parents.” Terry began. “I’m an only child but my cousin Mike was like a younger brother to me.”

Khloé sat waiting for him to finish until she realized he wasn’t going to. “Did you take his death pretty hard?”

Terry nodded.

“Well what about the Marines, did you make any friends there?”

“A few but not many I could trust.” Terry took a sip of water before diving deeper. “All the guys were so caught up in their own egos, trying to outdo the other. Nobody really looked out for one another so I kept to myself for the most part.

“I think that’s why I’m so close with Summer, she’s really the only “family” I have left.” Terry said, putting air quotes around the word family. “I guess she reminds me that I'm not as alone as I feel at times. I know you probably still feel a way about her but she’s honestly like a sister to me. I really couldn’t do without her.”

Those words hit Khloé like a ton of bricks. She felt the familiar feeling she had when she walked away from Summer, guilt. Only it was growing greater as he spoke about her. Terry continued to tell her about his childhood, how all he knew was loss and betrayal and it was beginning to sink in for her. That what she had done would completely rock his world if he found out. She sat quietly unsure of what to say next.

“Man the shit I saw when I went in just gave me a different perspective on life. I’m not really one for meaningless connections, I think they’re pointless. I’d rather have one or two people who really get me than to just have a bunch of people around me just so I can say I have friends.”

Khloé nodded, staring down at the food in front of her.

“You know what’s crazy?” He asked, tilting his head to the side.

She looked up at him, his eyes were a beautiful hazel. The sun brought them out the longer he stared at her. “What?”

“I thought this whole deal of yours wouldn’t work out at first.”

“Why not?” Khloé laughed nervously.

“We’re very different.” Terry said bluntly. “You have this crazy ass, over the top, demanding personality. I’m more of a laid back kind of guy.”

“With a smart ass mouth.” She added. They both laughed at her statement.

“I thought you would get rid of me by now.” Terry spoke nonchalantly, reaching for a few grapes.

“Why would I do that? I enjoy spending time with you.” Khloé was genuinely confused.

“I’m a pretty boring guy, don’t you think?”

Khloé smiled at him. “Actually no, I think you’re really interesting. Oddly enough you make me consider a lot of things that I never paid much attention to in the past.” Khloé shrugged. “Different perspective I guess. Plus I add the spark to your life, so we balance each other out. That’s a good thing.”

They say in silence for a while, taking in their conversation. Terry hated to admit it but a part of him wasn’t ready to have the conversation that would finally bring all of this to an end. He wasn’t trying to break his neck to be with her officially but he damn sure didn’t want to see her with anyone else anytime soon.

Khloé’s shoulders felt heavy again, aching from the thought of what she had done. The devil was on her shoulder again anxiously telling her not to worry about it, that Summer being out of the picture was just what they needed and eventually he’d forget about her. But the angel was calmly telling her to come clean now before it was too late.

“Terry, I need to tell you something.” Her voice was trembling, afraid of what would happen after her admission.

“What’s up?” He asked, eyebrows bent from the brightness of the sun.

“I talked to-“

“Youngblood!” A very familiar voice called out from behind them. It was Earl from the warehouse. He approached the two holding a tall fishing pole and an ice chest. “What you doin’ out here?”

Terry laughed to himself before standing to greet his coworker. They slapped hands, embracing each other in the universal bro hug.

“I’m just out here doing a favor for a friend, that's all.” He joked, looking down at Khloé.

Earl's eyes followed, shock written all over his face.

“Ms. MacArthur, good to see you.” He nodded his head, greeting her. “You look beautiful as usual.”

Khloé nodded with a thin grin on her face. “Thank you Earl, nice to see you as well.”

Terry and Earl fell into a long conversation, eventually arguing about men's things; sports, cars, etc. Khloé leaned onto her right arm, moving the fruits across the plate as she silently thanked Earl for saving her from ruining a good thing.

After a long ten minutes, which flew by to Khloé, Terry had returned to the blanket completely apologetic. He sat down, with each of his legs at her sides.

“Don’t be mad at me, that wasn’t my fault.” He held up his hands in defense. “He interrupted us and I didn’t want to be ru-“

“It’s okay, I’m not mad.” She said cutting him off with a soft smile.

Terry nodded. “Now what were you about to tell me?”

Khloé stared at him for a few seconds before finally saying, “There’s a charity event coming up and we have to be there, my mother is hosting it.”

Terry nodded his head slowly, wondering why she was hesitating in the beginning to tell him about something so simple.

“Just wanted to tell you, you’re free to wear what you want but we have to be color coordinated so we look like a unit at least.”

“Yes ma’am.”

They continued their picnic date, laughing and conversing about everything under the sun. However, Khloé’s conscience kept bothering her throughout the rest of the date. But she did what she did best and blocked it out by shifting her mind to dwell on the positive things, avoiding any negative thoughts and future consequences.

Terry sat on the edge of Khloés bed, dialing Summers' number once again for the third time this week. His eyebrows furrowed as the call rang three times then went to voicemail, again.

“Hey Summer it’s T, call me back when you get this message.” Terry hung up the phone, leaving yet another message. He stared down at his phone, so caught up in his own thoughts he didn’t hear Khloés question.

“Which one should I wear to the charity event?” Khloé held up two dresses, one on each side of her.

“Something’s not right with her.” He mumbled to himself.

Khloé dropped her hands to her sides, trying to fight the urge to become frustrated. “Maybe she’s busy, I mean she has her own life. She’ll get to you eventually. Now which one should I wear, the black dress or the white?”

Terry shook his head trying to make sense of her sudden silence. “She would’ve at least sent a text or something by now.”

“Can you stop worrying about her?” Khloé yelled a bit louder than she intended. “She’s a grown ass woman, she’s okay.” She said, trying to calm her voice.

Terry’s eyes shot up and he stared at her for a while. Her jealousy was getting the best of her and it was definitely a turn off for him but he brushed it off, not worrying about her attitude. He had every right to worry about his friend whether she had a problem with it or not.

“Now answer me which one, black or white?”

Terry paused for a moment and let out a deep breath. “White. It’s more welcoming.”

“You’re right.” Khloé said, pressing the dress against her body as she stared into the mirror. “Well we only have an hour to get there so let’s get dressed and stop moping about Summer please, she is alright.”

Terry stood to his feet not bothering to respond and left the room, no longer interested in talking to Khloé about Summer anymore.

They arrived at the large building, pulling into the parking lot that sat beside it. There was no valet for this event, considering it was strictly for charity. That didn’t stop Terry from falling into his usual routine though, opening her door no matter where they went.

Holding hands, they crossed the large parking lot and Khloé felt a bit of remorse wash over her. The way she spoke to Terry earlier wasn’t sitting right with her. Blowing off the topic of Summer had clearly rubbed him the wrong way but he had yet to say anything about it. He really didn’t have to, Khloé could sense his energy as he drove, eyes never leaving the road, jaw clenching every now and then.

Khloé stopped walking which caused Terry to come to a halt as well. “Look I’m sorry about earlier.” She turned to him, looking up at him as he stared down at her. “I know you’re worried about Summer but I’m sure she has a good reason as to why she hasn’t spoken to you yet. She has a daughter to raise, being a single mom is tough enough.” Khloé ran a soft hand down his cheek. “Maybe now since she’s caught up in her own life, you can focus on yours, the one with me in it.”

Her hand trailed down his arm, lacing her fingers into his. Terry stared down at her, noticing another attempt to appear innocent as she blinked her eyelashes up at him. He turned his head to the side trying to hide his smile.

“You’re right, I guess I can enjoy my time as your fake boyfriend until you don’t want me anymore.” He joked.

“I’ll always want you Mr. Richmond.” Khloé responded, pursing her lips at him waiting for a kiss.

He leaned down and placed a kiss on her lips, both passionate and intimate. They pressed their foreheads together, savoring the moment.

Khloé placed another kiss on his lips and pulled on his arm. “Now let’s enjoy the event.”

With that they continued walking, finally entering into the large building decorated in pink and yellow balloons. Khloé waved as she greeted guests, family, friends and business associates who attended the event. The smell of fresh pastries filled the room as they walked deeper into the building.

“Terrance, I’m enjoying seeing you so often.” Mrs. MacArthur smiled, giving him a tight squeeze.

“It’s good seeing you ma’am, you look beautiful.” Terry offered a small smile.

“Do you mind if I borrow my daughter for a second, we have a few things we need to discuss?”

“Not at all.” Terry said, turning to Khloé. “I’ll be over at the food table.”

“Okay, don’t get too full.” Khloé said, giving him a knowing look, one he knew too well. He smirked at her before turning and walking away.

Khloé and her mother locked arms and walked down a long hall away from the guests. Mrs. MacArthur stopped to turn and face her daughter, their gazes level with each other as they were the same height.

“So,” She began, “Did you handle the “friend” problem?”

Khloé smiled, almost revealing all of her teeth. “I did.”

Without warning, Mrs. MacArthur took her into a warm embrace, rocking her from side to side. “I’m so proud of you sweetheart, demanding your respect is the only way to get what you want.”

Khloé smiled at her mom with an adorned look on her face. It had been a while since she heard those words from her mother. She took in this moment with her mother, savoring it as it didn’t happen very often.

“So what did you say to her?” Mrs. MacArthur asked, folding her arms and leaning her weight to one leg.

Khloé spilled every detail of the conversation she had with Summer. Bragging about how Summer seemed to be very timid, almost afraid of her. Khloé was truly dragging it but the way her mothers face lit up as she told the story was worth the tale.

“I cannot believe you.” A familiar voice spoke behind Khloé.

It was Kandace, face full of disappointment and confusion. “Khloé, did you think about what might happen if he finds out about this?”

“Oh Kandace, you’re insufferable.” Mrs. MacArthur rolled her eyes.

“She hasn’t spoken to him in a whole month, clearly she got the message.” Khloé shrugged, turning her attention to her older sister.

“When he runs into her, goes to her house, pops up at her job looking for her, then what happens?”

“Why would he go searching for her when he’s got Khloé by his side?” Mrs. MacArthur scoffed. “He’s not a dumb man. Besides, he should be lucky Khloé even wants to breathe his air.”

Kandace sat quietly staring at Khloé, the silence was loud. Loud enough to let her know how disappointed she was in her sister.

“It’s all good Kandace, honestly.” Khloé chuckled.

“Okay, we’ll see.” Kandace said, making her way back down the hall. She was so irritated with her sister she turned the corner quickly, jumping back when she bumped right into a body.

“Nia?” Kandace frowned, looking her up and down. “Why are you standing right here?”

“I was looking for the bathroom.” Nia answered quickly.

Kandace squinted her eyes before pointing her finger behind Nia to the sign that hung from the ceiling labeled “Restrooms”.

“Girl I’m not paying attention, my bad.” Nia let out a forced laugh, walking away from Kandace and to the restroom.

Terry washed his hands, looking up at the mirror to take a good look at himself. He shook the excess water from his hands and grabbed a few paper towels, grabbing the door handle before tossing them into the trash. He looked down at his pants to be sure his zipper wasn’t down when he heard a voice he wasn’t too fond of hearing.

“Mr. Terrance Richmond?” Nia called out, causing Terry to turn in her direction.

“I’m not interested in talking to you.” Terry said, turning back around.

Nia took a few quick steps to catch up with him. “Actually I needed to talk to you.”

“I can’t do that.” Terry kept walking, not bothering to fully acknowledge her presence, keeping his eyes forward.

“I know why you haven’t heard from Summer.” Nia spat, stopping him dead in his tracks.

He stood still for a few seconds, contemplating on whether he should even entertain Nia’s messiness or keep walking.

“You should ask Khloé about it, I think she knows why you can’t get a hold of your friend.” She said, folding her arms over her chest. “Have you visited her lately?”

“How do you even know about Summer?” He asked, finally turning around to face her.

“I sort of overheard Khloé speaking with Kandace about her.” Nia admitted. “Didn’t want you to be worrying about Summer when Khloé knows exactly what’s going on with her.”

Terry’s nostrils flared a bit, fixing his gaze to the ground. He wasn’t going to believe Nia simply because Khloé had warned him about her. However, it wasn’t normal for Summer to completely ghost him. With the way Khloé had sort of snapped at him earlier from mentioning Summers name, he had a feeling Nia was telling the truth unfortunately.

Terry decided to do the one thing he tries to avoid, pop up on his good friend even if she didn’t plan for a visit from him. He eyed Nia up and down, not hiding his dislike for her. He took a deep breath before turning on his heels to walk toward the front entrance, leaving Nia alone in the hallway, a smile of satisfaction on her face. Terry pushed past the small crowds of people and walked out of the tall double doors, making his way to the parking lot.

Khloé noticed the sudden change in his demeanor and quickly rushed through the crowd, trying to catch up to him. She pushed through doors, almost running to catch him. “Terry?” She called out behind him, heels loudly clicking the concrete.

He continued walking, ignoring her voice.

“Where are you going? The event isn’t over yet.” She said, speeding up her walk finally reaching him. She grabbed his arm and he pulled it away. “Terry!”

“It’s an emergency.” He continued to walk toward the parking lot, pulling the keys to the rental car from his pocket.

“What emergency could be happening right now that you have to leave me?”

“It’s Summer.” He responded harshly, finally turning to meet her gaze. “I’m going to check up on her.”

Khloé’s heart sank into her stomach but she tried her hardest to play it cool. “What’s wrong? What did she say?” She questioned, wanting to be sure what she said to Summer hadn’t made it to Terry.

“I’m just stopping by her house to see if she’s okay, is that a problem for you?” He asked, eyeing her carefully to see if any bit of anger or irritation would wash over her face.

“No it’s fine, I’ll have my sister take me home.” Khloé replied, trying to seem confident, not wanting to show any sign of worry in her tone. But deep down she was trembling on the inside.

“I’ll see you later.” He said, keeping his eyes on her as he lowered into the driver's seat. He cranked the car and pulled out of the parking space, heading to Summer’s home.

“Shit Khloé.” She cursed herself, stomping her foot as she placed her hands on top of her head.

“I told you I’m not sure what happened, he didn’t say much.” Khloé spoke into the phone. She hadn’t even made it into her condo yet before she was calling her sister right back after dropping her off, still trying to ease her own anxiety… or guilt.

“Did he seem angry, annoyed, calm, relaxed?” Kandace asked, trying to help her sister gauge how Terry may react once he talks to Summer.

“I told you I couldn’t tell Kandace, I mean he seemed upset but then he didn’t look upset.” Khloé replied, putting her keys into the door of her condo. “I can never guess what he’s feeling unless he’s genuinely making it obvious.”

“Khloé you better get ready for whatever is coming next, cause it’s definitely coming. ” Kandace said.

“Ugh, bye Kandace.” Khloé hung up the phone and pushed the door open.

She walked into her home, kicking her heels off at the door. She had been calling and texting Terry to get an update on Summer, but he wasn’t responding. Not because she cared for her well being, she just wanted to know if he was aware of the conversation they’d had. She wanted to know if she was in any trouble.

She walked further into her home and turned on the kitchen lights, jumping when she saw him sitting on her sofa. They stared at each other for what seemed like minutes but was only a few seconds. The look on his face letting her know she had fucked up.

“Hey.” Khloé greeted him, placing her purse on the kitchen island. “Did you talk to Summer?”

Terry sat silently staring at her with a blank expression. His blood was boiling internally but his exterior remained stoic.

“Is she okay?” Khloé was dying to know how the conversation went between the two of them. She walked deeper into the living room, stepping slowly, fiddling with her fingers. Terry’s temples twitched as she inched closer to him. She knew Summer had told him everything.

He continued sitting silently, leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees as his eyes pierced into hers.

“I assume you already know the answer to that question because you had a conversation with her right?” Terry’s voice was deep yet calm. “You didn’t think to tell me about it?”

“I was gonna tell you but I could never find the right moment.” She responded, with a nervous smile.

Terry paused, growing irritated with her by the second.

“So you knew this whole time why she wasn’t speaking to me? You were the reason.” He stood up from the sofa and walked toward her.

“Well y-yes but I just told her that um, you were busy a-and you needed space.” She walked backwards until her back was pressed against the island, never tearing her eyes from his.

“So you speak for me now?” He was approaching her quickly, towering over her once he finally made it in her space. “You’re that fucking insecure, you had to make up some shit to get her to stop talking to me?”

“Don’t call me that.” Khloé shot through clenched teeth.

“Cut this bullshit act.” He spoke with pure disgust lacing every word. “You’re a fucking fraud.”

“Don’t talk to me like that!”

“All this money you got, you got both of your parents, family, the ability to obtain whatever you want and you’re so easily threatened by Summer?” He was tearing into her and he didn’t plan on letting up whatsoever. “Is that why you lied to her, you see her as competition?”

Khloe shrank under him, lowering her chin to her chest. “I didn’t want you to stop seeing me after I was done paying you. You spend so much time with her, I thought you would forget about me.”

“You didn’t think to open your fucking mouth and tell

me that?” He was pissed, not caring if she was bothered with his tone or not. “Do you know what that could’ve done to her? She’s an ex-addict, anything could trigger her and send her down a rabbit hole.”

Khloé sat quietly, surprised by what she was hearing. She looked down at her feet, too embarrassed to look at him. “I didn’t know that.” Her voice trembled as she fought the urge to cry.

“It’s not your fucking business to know that!” She jumped at the sound of his voice, echoing throughout the entire condo.

Khloé stared up at him, tears puddling in her eyes. She was completely unaware of who she was speaking to. It never occurred to her that he could be so harsh with his words. He had never been angry with her before, even when she was being a total bitch to him, he never even raised his voice to her. Clearly her actions had unlocked a different version of him, a version she wanted so badly to disappear and never return again. She could feel herself becoming extremely emotional, feeling so small in this moment in every way possible.

He stepped back, turning his back to her as he took a deep breath. Rubbing his palms against the back of his head to calm himself down, the last thing he needed was to let his anger get the complete best of him.

“Did you really think she wouldn’t tell me?” He asked, finally facing her again, his voice returning to a calm state only for a split second.

She remained silent.

“Answer me!”

“I don’t know.” Khloé responded quickly. “Terry I’m sor-“

“So you thought getting rid of the one person I had left would actually make me wanna be with you?” He was truly repulsed by her.

“I wasn’t trying to get rid of her permanently, just until I…” Khloé looked around the room to find the words. The truth was she didn’t think any of this through. She just wanted him all to herself, no matter what it would take. But the desire to get a pat on the back from her mother, the feeling of no longer wanting to hear the insults she’d been hearing for years from her parents, clouded her judgment.

Terry raised a brow, waiting for her to finish. “Until you what? Told your parents the truth? That you pay me to be here cause you’re that desperate for a man.”

“Stop!” Her voice trembled, she bit her lip to prevent it from trembling also as a tear dropped from her eyes.

Terry shook his head and let out a chuckle, but he was clearly unamused. “You know the apple really doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

Khloés heart dropped, realizing exactly what he was saying without being frank.

“For a second I thought because you had your sister, you’d have some damn sense, but that was my fault for assuming.” He lifted his shirt and pulled large stacks of cash from his waistband, slamming them onto the counter. Khloé watched as he placed each one on top of the other. “$8500. That’s all the money you’ve sent me so far.” Terry spat. “You can keep the rest, we’re done.”

Khloé's eyes widened at the sound of those last two words. “No wait!” She choked on her cries as she tried so hard to hold herself together. Terry walked away from her making his way to the front door. “Don’t leave please, I can fix it.”

Terry continued toward the door.

“Terry!” She cried out, pulling on his shirt to get him to stop walking.

He kept going, snatching her hand away from him, not bothering to turn around.

“Just give me a chance, please!” She yelled, tears were now streaming down her face. “I’m sorry!”

Terry opened the door and walked out of her home. Khloé was right behind him, chasing him to the elevators.

“I’ll talk to her, I’ll do whatever you want me to!” Her pleas were falling on deaf ears. Terry aggressively pressed the button to call the elevator and stared at the doors, not even turning his head to look at her.

“Please? Can we just talk about it?” Khloe looked so pitiful, begging for him to say something to her. But he wouldn’t even look her way. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you.”

The bell chimed and the doors to the elevator opened, he stepped inside still moving forward as she grabbed his arm with both hands. He shot a cold look at her. “Don’t touch me.” Snatching his arm out of her grasp, making her yank forward a bit. She didn’t want to test him any more than she already had. She stood in place, still pleading with him but he remained silent. Those were the last words he said to her before closing the doors and disappearing behind them.

Khloé stared at the elevator, almost expecting them to reopen so he’d walk back through them. She covered her face with her hands, muffling her sobs. The situation seemed to be right in the palm of her hands but slipped through her fingers and it was all her doing.

She turned and held onto the wall as she tried to catch her breath. The amount of sobbing she was doing was making it hard for her to take in a single breath without feeling like her lungs were shrinking. She ran back into her condo and went for her purse. Grabbing her phone, she dialed the only person who would tolerate her in this state.

“Khloé?” Kandace opened the door to the large condo, calling out for her sister. She walked deeper into the space until she saw her on the floor, face wet with tears. Khloé was wheezing, grabbing her stomach as she tried to steady her breathing.

“I f-fucked up s-so bad.” Khloé struggled, still working on catching her breath.

“Oh my God, you’re hyperventilating Khloé.” Kandace ran over to the kitchen and grabbed her a bottle of water. She kneeled down to her and lifted the bottle to her lips. “You need to calm down, just breathe. It’s gonna be okay.”

Khloé sipped the water slowly, still hiccuping from her heavy sobs. She wiped her face and looked up at her sister. “No it’s not.”

“Summer told him everything.” Kandace stated, already knowing how this would play out. She placed her hand on Khloés knee and sat on the floor in front of her.

Khloé nodded. “He was so angry.” She barely whispered.

Kandace sat silently, not wanting to offer her an “I told you so”. Pouring salt into the wound wasn’t going to calm her down anytime soon. Now wasn’t the time to tell her about herself, Terry had already done that.

“The things h-he said to me, he was so m-mean.” She shook her head frantically. “He put the m-money on the counter and h-he left.” Khloé explained through hiccups. “I couldn’t even explain my-myself, he didn’t want to h-hear anything I had to s-say.”

“Khloé…” Kandace’s heart broke for her sister but she knew that this was a lesson she would eventually have to learn. She knew that being the spoiled mean girl who did whatever she wanted and treated people however she chose just to have her way would eventually backfire.

“I know I fucked up, I know.” Khloé cried, staring up at the ceiling. “And I can’t even fix this.”

“I think you should just give him some time.” Kandace offered.

Khloé looked at her big sister, eyes red and beginning to swell. She scoffed at the thought of her having the possibility of redeeming herself.

“He’s done with me Kandace, I saw it on his face. The look he gave me when he walked into the elevator.” She kept shaking her head, her breathing finally calming back down to normal. “He had finally opened up to me about everything and I knew I should’ve said something then but it was going so well I didn’t wanna mess it up.”

“But now it’s blown up in your face.” Kandace said.

Khloe placed her head in her hands, knees pressed against her chest.

“I think you may just have to sit with the consequences of your actions babe. That fantasy you were trying to bring to life is all over.” Kandace finished.

Khloés sobs started up again as she replayed the conversation with Terry over and over again in her mind. Her sister held onto her, pulling her into her arms while she cried. This was going to be a long night for the both of them.

to be continued…

#aaron pierre #terry richmond fic #aaron pierre fanfiction #terry richmond #aaron pierre x black fem reader #rebel ridge #aaron pierre x black reader #aaron pierre fic #terry richmond x black female reader #terry richmond x black!oc

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saltysideblog · 1 year ago

Text

Aldo: You a nurse?

Evie: Yes, sir.

Aldo: You any good?

Evie: Yes, sir.

Aldo: Confident one, ain'tcha?

Evie: You sound like my father.

Aldo: You speak French?

Evie: Oui, m'sieur.

Aldo: You Jewish?

Evie: No, sir.

Aldo: Be better if you were Jewish.

Evie: I get that a lot. I'd be happy to convert, if it'd make you feel better.

Aldo: Smartass.

Evie: Now you sound like my mother.

Aldo: ...

Aldo: Yeah, we'll take 'er.

#this might actually be their first meeting idk #¯\_(ツ)_/¯#dialogue bits and bobs #inglourious basterds x oc #inglourious basterds oc #aldo raine #evelyne grenier #nurse oc #self insert

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formylovetodaryldixon · 2 months ago

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"Like there was no tomorrow." CH.1—Daryl Dixon.

Daryl Dixon promised himself, the night he let you go, that he would always love you, like there was no tomorrow. But when you come back into his life, you’re sure you won't fall for him again. However, even against your wishes, he will stay close to you, protecting you from getting hurt or worse, because a life without you is unimaginable. Now, like a roller coaster of emotions, you have to face your confusing feelings in an apocalyptic world, until you finally decide what the hell you expect from life, besides the chance to live one more day. And when a little girl shows up in your lifes, she may be the path to a safe place you two can finally call home. But, will that be enough to be together? Or will the past be too much to survive the storm?

PAIRING: Daryl Dixon x reader

WARNING: Death, blood, a lot of bad words hehe (but also romance and even some comedy if I can get it right hehe)

ERA: From prison onwards.

A/N: Hello! It is with great fear in my heart that I share with you the first chapter of this series. I hope you like it! I am not the best writer but I want to keep writing about Daryl, so I hope you give this story a chance. Thank you so much! I loved that dialogue of Michonne making fun of Daryl when she found out he had a girlfriend hehehe

You met Daryl before the dead came back to life.

He was a young man working for the owner of a motorcycle repair shop: the pay was bad, but good enough to get by. You were the child of a police officer (who had drinking problems) the typical sheltered (but down–to–earth) young person, just trying to make your life meaningful. Your older brother used to take you with him to get his bike repaired, and the rest of how you and Daryl met was history.

But that first day, it was a big surprise for him when you talked to him, because someone like you, who stood out like a brilliant sapphire among a pile of discolored rocks, talked to him like he was just like you. And it was almost blinding looking at you, like trying to look directly at the sun.

Daryl had a small inferiority complex he knew how to mask well, but from that day on, he couldn't wait to see you every week.

After that, it was a good three and a half years, with a few petty arguments, and a ring hidden in the back of his drawer that he never gave you. But the day he broke up with you, Daryl did it through his own suffocating pain, through his mistaken idea that he wasn’t enough for you, that the life he could offer you wasn’t the one you deserved, so that day, Daryl let you go. However, it would be a lie to say it was easy for him, because for the next 4 months, Daryl did nothing but come to see you every night, just to make sure you got home safely from your job.

A little bit later, the apocalypse began.

Daryl tried to find you that night, but your house was a mess, and there was no sign of you, so he and his brother left town. But he never stopped looking for you anywhere he went, he never stopped dreaming about you, because Daryl knew you were still alive.

But life is a funny and unpredictable thing, because that afternoon, it is you who comes back to him.

“Drop it.”

Your firm voice sinks into the ears of the man with his back to you, whose heart wakes up frantically when he feels the cold muzzle of your gun on the back of his head. The cold air of the abandoned room that used to be a classroom in that forgotten university makes the hairs on his skin stand on end, but he’s too scared to even breathe.

You don't mean to scare the poor man like that, but like every so often when you came to look for other kinds of medicine, you never expected to find another living being in that place, especially one that preferred to take the bottles of alcohol when other things were more important. Therefore, he didn't seem like a person you could trust.

“Hey, I’m Bob and I’m not looking for trouble…” The man says softly, his hand holding the last bottle of alcohol that he had picked up from the ground, but frozen now in mid–air. “My group and I are looking for medicine for our people—”

“Yeah? I didn’t know you healed people with vodka.” You say sarcastically. “Put the bottle down and get out of here slowly. I'm not going to hurt you, but please, don't do anything stupid.”

Helpless, Bob complies with your command before beginning to walk outside, hands in the air to show you that he is harmless, but he is also unable to see the small falcon above your right shoulder. The yellow paws of your little girl cling to the fabric of your black long–sleeved shirt, without hurting you, but keeping her black eyes fixed on the prey before her, watching his movements and any attempt of sudden attack. However, the moment you two cross the door and take a couple of steps into the apparent lonely hallway, a light, almost silent footstep, like the weight of one of her feathers is heard in the falcon’s ears and Aeris makes a low sound, a warning that makes you turn the muzzle of the gun towards your right, towards the door on the other side of the hall in a single second.

Across the hall, Daryl lowers his crossbow when he sees you through it, even if it's almost impossible for him to believe that you're really there in front of him, not after he spent all that time looking for you since you two broke up. You lower your weapon as well, keeping a frown, but your heartbeat is as loud in your ears as if you had just fired a bullet on that silent and deathly place.

You knew he was out there and alive, (because Daryl was too smart with his survival instincts and all) but you never imagined you would see him again. His hair is long and covers part of his eyes, but his gaze is the same, those cold blue eyes that used to see you differently from the others—They are warm, full of affection.

“Peach?” His deep, low voice, the one you once thought was lost when he let you startles you now, but you keep your emotions back on track as he approaches, slowly, with a singular fear in his eyes. “Shit. I can’t believe s’ya.”

Behind him, a man with a gun and a woman with a katana walk out of the room, backpacks on their shoulders and serious expressions, because in that new world no one bothered to smile and be friendly with strangers anymore, and it is understandable given the circumstances.

“I went to look for ya at yer house when the bombings in the city started…” Daryl always had a special way of looking at you, just like now, so intense that when you first met him, you were afraid of drowning in his ocean–colored eyes. “Ya weren’t there, and yer dad…”

The sudden memory, the one you used to push into the deepest, darkest part of your mind, comes back to you with the force of a hurricane.

“Yeah, guess my dad was too drunk to get out of there.” You say softly, so softly so as not to sink into guilt for leaving him when he yelled at you to run. “My best friend was with me that night and it's just been me and her this whole time.”

“Peach…”

But Daryl’s voice is silenced when Aeris makes a sound again, looking down the hall where the first walker turns the corner, growling and bringing others behind it.

“We need to go!” The katana–wielding woman takes the lead, walking the other way.

You and the new group follow suit, passing a pair of classrooms that hid a pair of silent walkers until they feel everyone's presence. In that moment, they start growling, following you all. The only clear room you all enter is windowless, and it is so dark that it plunges you into a new kind of darkness that the light from the flashlight you and the woman pull tries to fight off.

“Hey! The door’s broken.” Bob whispers, teeth clenched in fear as he presses himself against the closed door.

“Hold on.” Daryl steps closer, pushing the heavy animal bars to block the path of the walkers that begin to pile up against it.

You stop beside the woman, your flashlight pointing at the staircase sign above the wooden doors on the other side of the stifling room.

“Hey. There.” You tell her, and when her flashlight points in the same direction, she nods at you. But as you approach the chains covering the doors, the walkers on the other side rush at the small gap between the boards, rotting hands trying to reach for you all. “I don't know how many are on the other side.”

The unlocked door on the other end begins to give way, letting in more walkers.

“We can take ‘em.” The big man in the woolly hat says, his gun ready to fire, but is silenced by Bob’s words.

“No! They’re infected. Same as at the prison. We fire at ‘em, get their blood on us, breath it in. We didn’t come all this way to get sick.”

The man in the hat points the flashlight at him.

“How do we know the ones in there aren’t any different?”

“We don’t.” The woman replies, sword in her hands.

“Well, s’gonna change sometimes.”

Daryl approaches the upside–down chair near him, using his boot to break the legs. He steps up to the door next and uses his weight against the chains to break them, throwing the doors wide, the first few walkers nearly tripping over each other with their hands in the air, ready to sink their teeth into the skin of the closest victim.

Simultaneously, you and the woman take down two with a bullet and a swing of her katana, clearing the way for the others. It’s dark the minute it takes you all turn around a corner, but then, the daylight hits you in the face as you take the first step towards the staircase, the sunlight lighting the way up with the others in front of you.

Out of nowhere, you feel Daryl's hand on your lower back to guide you even though you know where to go, but before you can protest, Aeris swings on your shoulder before taking flight to the next floor over the heads of the others. You had saved that bird when she was a little, and now, she is the compass that always guided you to a safe place: you trust her with your life.

“Follow her...” You say, taking the lead when everyone stops for a microsecond. “She’ll find the path clear of walkers.”

“How the fuck will she do that? It’s a bird!” Bob grunts, but following the rest up the steps.

“Because she’s smarter than all of us put together.” You say through gritted teeth in frustration, stepping into the floor as the stairs finally end in front of you.

The room opens up into two hallways, and though the hallway on the left is clear, Aeris is standing on the edge of the closed window on the right side, speaking in small sounds.

“There’s no way out through there!” Bob shouts, but before he takes a step into the apparent emptiness on left, more walkers round the corner and others come out of the adjoining rooms, growling in the distance.

“Fuck…” Daryl grunts as he passes you, watching in frustration how the bird returns to your shoulder. “We make one then.”

He loops his crossbow strap around his body before grabbing a fire extinguisher from the ground, throwing it at the glass. The window makes a loud sound as glass falls in all directions, but clearing an improvised path for you all. Daryl climbs up to the edge, giving the woman his hand first to cross to the other side, but when he's about to do the same with you, you're already standing on top on your own.

He narrows his eyes, frustrated at your tendency to do things alone.

You jump onto the roof next to the window, but it is so narrow that your knees bend as you fall, using your hands to keep your balance. Aeris rocks with the movement, but she remains on your shoulder. The man in the hat jumps next, followed by Daryl, and finally Bob, who uses a little more strength than necessary and the weight of his backpack propels it over the edge, falling into the void where dozens of hands rush to try and grab it.

On the ground, mouths are open and hands grab onto the backpack strap, but Bob has no intention of letting go even as he struggles with them, half his body already down. The others rush to help, but Aeris shifts uneasily on your shoulder, as if she's holding you back, her own reaction to the impending danger and not just from the walkers.

Finally, Bob manages to pull himself halfway up from the edge, pushing his backpack against the floor of that ceiling, which makes a clear sound you and Daryl know well from your past life: the sound of glass bottles. And amidst the haze of confusion and as racing hearts try to calm down, Daryl kneels in front of the half–open backpack, grabbing a full bottle of vodka.

“Ya got no meds in yer bag?” You can hear it, the danger in his angry yet low voice. “Just this?”

Bob tries to speak, to say something in his defense even when everyone knows, including you, that there is no excuse to support his reckless action.

But when Daryl tries to throw the bottle, Bob’s hand instinctively reaches for the gun at his waist, letting out a no under his breath. And suddenly, and even outside and with all the open air, the impending tension closes dangerously around the others. You knew Daryl grew up without a single ounce of fear in his body, forgetting what it was after all the beatings his dad used to give him when he was little, and now, he, so sure that he can beat the shit out of Bob without even using his gun, steps closer to his face, looking him in the eyes. Daryl has a short temper, and from behind, you can see his back tensing up in anger, his hand taking the gun from Bob's waist before grabbing him by the collar of his shirt. He's good, you know that, but his rage and frustration were always really short, almost deadly, and dangerous like playing close to a volcano.

But Daryl keeps grunting softly, like a wild animal, his blue eyes fixed on Bob, though he can't meet his eyes.

“Daryl…” You say softly, trying to ease the tension of the situation before he ends up pushing the poor man over the edge. You’ve already seen him hurt someone for less in a bar, when a drunk guy tried to hit on you, calling you by a disgusting name that Daryl eventually made him swallow with the punching he gave that man. “Don’t do it… please.”

Daryl exhales through his nose, letting out all his anger first, his jaw too tight to speak at that second.

“Take one sip ‘fore those meds get to our people, and I will beat yer ass into the ground.” He says, low, and it’s not a warning: it’s a promise you know he’ll keep as he pushes the bottle against Bob’s chest. “Ya hear me?”

Daryl steps away from Bob, giving you a silent look before continuing, but hating that only you can calm that fierce temper of his, even after being apart for so long.

“Do you have a doctor where you’re staying?”

Out in the open field, Aeris is always flying nearby, you know that. But the moment you enter the once–convenience store, connected to a house, the long hallway seems to become small until it closes around your throat because of the thought of not being able to get help for your friend, a thought that begins to dance in your scared mind.

“Yes, but…” Michonne hesitates, not knowing how to continue, how to explain that the seemingly safe place is falling under a strange virus. “But I don’t know if it would be best for you to come with us right now.”

“It’s not for me…” You say in front of her, opening the back door that eventually extends into a forgotten, old living room, with just two small sofas and a wooden table in the center. But the daylight coming through the white curtain gives the place a warm touch, like an image from centuries ago, as if the world hadn't gone straight to hell. “My friend is sick and I don’t know how to help her.”

The others enter the room, the two men sitting on the couches while Michonne paces around, and they all carry a strange mix of emotions under the promise of getting enough gasoline to get them home, but still under the shadow of what happened back at the college. You can read the discomfort on their faces, making you feel uncomfortable too.

“Ya and Sam live here?” Daryl stops beside you, looking at you as deeply as those days that now seem not so far away. “Is she okay? Are ya okay?”

You let out a heavy sigh before continuing, thinking back a bit.

“Yeah. Maybe a month ago or two an older woman found us in her store looking for supplies, and I guess she was either nice or naive but she invited us to eat with her because we didn’t seem like bad people to her. Ellie lives here with her husband, who is unfortunately quadriplegic, so Sam and I stayed with them. They offered us food and I... security in what I can do.”

“Can you shoot?” Michonne asks, approaching you.

“Ya kiddin’?” Daryl scoffs. “The first time we fought she threw a peach at me that landed exactly where she wanted. (Y/N) has a hell of an aim.”

For the first time and after the danger has passed, Michonne smiles.

“I wasn’t kidding when I told Daryl my aiming would help me if an apocalypse ever broke out…” You try to chuckle, but the attempt falls flat on a sigh. “Can you please take my friend with you? I don’t know what else to do for her, and I’m afraid that if she keeps this up, she’ll ask me to end her suffering at any moment.”

The new group falls into a heavy silence, debating internally whether doing so is a good idea.

“If we don’t, you won’t give us the gasoline?” Tyreese asks, eager to get back to his sister.

“Of course not.” But you shake your head, trying to explain yourself better. “I mean; you can take the gasoline either way.”

Silently, the others share glances before voicing their opinions, but the absence of noise makes your hands shake and a strange warmth awaken in the pit of your stomach, running through your entire body, boiling like lava, so in response, you push up the sleeves of your shirt to cool you down, forgetting for a second about your scars, revealing a secret you thought you wouldn’t have to share with anyone else.

Daryl spots them immediately, too wrapped up in you to miss them.

“The fuck happened to yer wrists?” He grabs your arm, lifting it up to observe the aftermath of that night when you had to burn both of your arms to set you free. “And don’ ya fuckin’ dare lie to me.”

In a second, your body fills with anger when you hear that tone spilling over his voice, so you yank your arm away.

“Fuck you, Dixon, I’m not your problem. So don’t ask me for explanations like I’m your responsibility.”

“Ya are ma fuckin’ responsibility.” He steps closer to you, so dangerously that it alerts the others.

But to their surprise, you chuckle humorlessly, and they're already getting the idea that you alone can handle Daryl Dixon.

“You're wrong, Daryl, I’m not yours at all, in any way.” Your gaze is as deep as your words, which fall on his chest at the memory of a relationship he ended. “Now, if you can take my friend, I’ll thank you infinitely, and if not, take the gasoline from the kitchen and please get out of here.”

Michonne’s chest falls when she exhales, but she gives a silent look to Daryl, who hasn’t stopped looking at you with frustration.

“Okay, we’ll take her with us. You can come too.”

You shake your head.

“No, thank you. I’m not leaving Ellie alone with Mark. But I have two walkie talkie, so you can take one and if Sam gets better, I’ll go get her. And if not…” Your chest tightens with the anxiety and uncertainty, the incessant fear of not being able to do more for her. “Just try to help her, please.”

When you feel the warning of the first tear behind your eyes, you tell them you will get the gasoline so that way you have an escape route, some comfort in solitude in case the worst happens. She’s your best friend, sister, your person, a rock you could hold on to when a storm fell upon your life, and the thought of losing her too in that cruel world takes your breath away, slowly killing you.

But when you take a few steps into the kitchen that now has yellowed walls, Daryl walks in behind you.

“Ya’re comin' with us.”

As you turn to him, you can’t help but hate that order in his deep voice, that command he used in his misguided attempt to protect you. However, you smile softly in appreciation that his concern for you remains intact.

“Daryl, thank you, really, but I don’t need you to worry about me. And I’m a big girl, I can take care of myself.”

“I don’ fuckin’ care.” He grunts, moving closer to you again. “I ain’t leavin’ ya alone in this place.”

You chuckle, just to prove to him that his words don’t have an effect on you.

“I’m not alone, I have guns and Aeris, too.”

Daryl narrows his eyes.

“That fuckin’ bird?”

“Hey, watch your mouth, sunshine…” You smirk. “Because that damn bird saved your ass today. If it weren't for her, everyone would have gone into the corridor with the walkers. Now… grab the gasoline you need and leave.”

Your gaze leaves him the moment you walk out the kitchen, cruelly, unable to continue seeing those deep eyes he always loved to gaze upon, because they could tell him without a single word everything he once meant to you. Daryl always thought you had probably been the only person capable of loving him with all his flaws, without ever being afraid of him, ever, but in the end, because Daryl knows he won’t change your mind, not with a personality as stubborn as his own, he takes the gasoline with the help of the others.

About half an hour later, the car hidden beneath some branches is ready to take them back home, but the feeling of leaving you alone again is suffocating for Daryl as he watches you from outside the car, the way you say goodbye to your friend, telling her she will be okay even though she’s practically unconscious, too weak to respond to your last show of affection before you pull away.

“Thank you, (Y/N).” Michonne says, in a tone so warm it makes you smile slightly.

“No. Thank you. I hope you all get safely to… your home.”

With a final look filled with gratitude, but absent, you say goodbye to most everyone, stepping away from the group to return to the safety of your own small home. Silently, Daryl watches you go, but harboring that same desire that seems to be carved into fire in his chest, that desire to go after you now, like he wanted to do that night he broke up with you. The second you left that night, Daryl wanted to go after you to tell you that he was sorry, that he was lying, that he was too much of a coward to stop listening to those thoughts in his head that told him he would never be able to give you what you deserved, even though he didn't even know what that was.

But the moment you disappear around the corner of the building, Michonne approaches Daryl as the others enter the car.

“I know it’s not of my business but I have to ask: Who was (Y/N) in your life, Daryl?”

He lets out a grunt through clenched teeth, part of him hating you (although not seriously) for always being so stubborn.

“Ma goddamn woman.”

Michonne nods slowly, weighing his words because in her eyes, he always seemed too lonely to let any person get close to him like that. Daryl seemed too reluctant to let a person penetrate that armor he had around himself, that concrete wall that prevented full access to his insides. She also knows that Daryl is a good man, but it is almost impossible to believe that someone like him, who used to push others away from him so as not to get too attached, would be capable of showing that kind of affection towards someone.

But it’s fascinating at the same time.

“She kind of hates you.”

Daryl shakes his head before going to the car.

“Nah. That’s her special way of tellin’ ya she still loves me.”

Michonne chuckles, following him. Daryl gets into the driver’s seat, closing his door as she does the same with the other.

“You’re going to come back for her, aren’t you?”

“Hell yeah. Now that I found her I ain't lettin' her go again, even if I have to carry her stubborn body over ma shoulder to take her with me.”

Michonne smiles, loving the idea that Daryl could be so honest with his feelings even in front of all of them.

“So you do have a soft spot after all.”

Daryl grunts as he starts the car, driving away from the building to go back to the prison. Daryl Dixon promised himself, the night he let you go, that he would always love you, like there was no tomorrow, but now that he found you, or that you had found him, Daryl wouldn't let you leave his side never again. He wouldn't make the same mistake twice. Hell, no.

@fluffy-dixon

#daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon twd #daryl dixon fanfiction

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lvis44 · 3 months ago

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Senna or Superman // LH44

Lewis Hamilton x Reader

Warnings: Language, Angst, Talk of this seasons difficulties, Suggestive dialogue, (Felipe Massa jump scare mention), Not Edited

Word Count: 4.3k+

Summary: Brazil 2024 was unforgiving, but amidst it all some greatness can still be achieved.

Notes: Hey y'all, like I said, I was feeling like typing and needed to work on something different for a second and I think I can speak for all of us that today had me feeling all of the emotions. There's definitely some angst in here but a lot of it is just absolute fluff and reader being an absolute Stan of her boyfriend, bc who wouldn't be if they were dating Lewis Hamilton, lets be real. Also, I've said it once I will say it again, I cannot follow a tense to save my life to ignore that. Kisses xxxx!!!

I am not a professional writer and all of this is a work of fiction and is strictly for fun. Enjoy! xxx

You hadn’t gotten much sleep and you were feeling it as you sat in the back of the Mercedes garage. Lewis had been hyper and full of anxious energy when he returned to the hotel last night. He had spent most of the previous day bobbing around the paddock like an energetic child, complaining about the delay in qualifying and trying to convince anyone that would listen to him that they should be sent out to try and put a lap together. He’s in Brazil, he wants to put on a show, but he’d been forced to wait much to his dismay and that had left you having to deal with him. He had been hyper after being so ready to go but never getting the release from his adrenaline and also annoyed that the sport had changed so much, yapping on about how when he first got to F1 they would have sent them out and that danger and adrenaline is a key part of the sport. You tried incessantly to get him to chill but you really had to just let him wear himself out, much like an actual child. It wasn’t until later in the evening, laying against his chest after finally convincing him to try to get some sleep, that you really got the answer to his emotions.

“I’m so excited and honored that I’m driving the MP4 tomorrow, but I’m also nervous. I was so prepared to do it today but having to wait, delaying the gratification, it’s really getting to me.” Lewis whispered into the comfortable silence, surprising you with the unprompted admission.

“It’s even more iconic to do it on race day.” You told him softly, rubbing your hand against his warm chest hoping to lighten the weight of whatever way playing in his mind.

He just hummed in response, evidently deep in his thoughts, his arm tightening around you ever so slightly.

“It’s understandable that you’re nervous Lew, you’re driving a piece of history, not just history to the sport but to your own personal journey and career. You’ve been asked to drive your idols car, the man is the reason you found your calling. Superman or Senna, right?” You kept your voice quiet, realizing that he needed to talk this through a bit more but not wanting to disrupt the peace that had settled around the two of you.

He smiled down at you as he heard the last part of your statement, chuckling lightly, “Superman or Senna, yes indeed.” He trailed off for a moment, the soft smile lingering on his lips as he stared at the ceiling, almost as if reminiscing over those years when those were his two goals in life, back as a young boy in Stevenage. “What’s kinda funny is that it’s not that I’m really nervous about driving the car itself, like I feel confident in that part, I feel like I’m more than capable. It’s that I’m nervous that I don’t deserve this or something, this is a big deal and I would never want anyone to regret this decision or something. I honestly don’t even really know, like I don’t know why they would regret it I just, I don’t know. Just not really sure I’m worthy of this.” He finished his rant, letting out a deep sigh.

Hearing his thoughts caused you to sit up, no longer caring if you broke the peace in the room. You stared directly at him, eyes locked with his that were evidently startled at your abrupt departure from your cuddle.

“Lewis, I need you to listen to me. They chose you, Senna's family specifically chose you and asked you.” You started, poking him in the chest for emphasis before putting the same finger over his lips to shush him when he tried to argue. “They could have asked any of the other drivers on the grid, they could have asked a retired driver, they could honestly have asked whoever the hell they wanted, but no they asked for you. Not the current reigning champion, not the owner of the car, not even a Mclaren driver. They asked you, not only because they recognize your talent but because they see him in you. They see the love and respect that the people of Brazil have for you and they see you return that tenfold. This beautiful country made you a citizen for a reason, they see you carry that flag with the same pride as your own. Lew even Felipe Massa said that you deserve to be the one to drive that car and isn’t he like literally suing you right now?”

You finally let out a huff before the both of you erupt in a fit of giggles, Lewis forcefully pulling you back down to him to wrap you tightly in his arms.

“I didn’t know he said that, honestly rather shocking because yeah, pretty sure he is. But ya know, I heard he’s running out of money.” His lips hold a smirk as he looks down at you before you’re both consumed by another fit of giggles. “Thank you,” He whispers once you’ve both calmed down, his lips against your forehead, “I needed to hear that. You know I get too much in my own head sometimes. Still have a hard time believing that all of this is real after everything I’ve been through, where I came from, ya know?”

“I do,” You say, tilting your head up to press a soft kiss to his lips, “you’re allowed to still revel in it, even after all this time. It truly is mental, even if it’s been this way for a while now. And by the way, I’m pretty sure the only reason they would ever regret letting you drive that car is if you crash it into a wall and break it, so just don’t do that and I’m pretty sure everything will be just fine.” You giggle, giving him another kiss.

“Well damn woman, no pressure or anything.” He fakes offence before splitting into a grin with you.

“Hey,” you say, your voice softer again, “I know I’m biassed and all, but know that I can’t think of anyone more deserving of this honor and I am so incredibly proud of you. I’m not sure I’ll be able to hold back the tears when I see you in that Mclaren tomorrow. You are an incredibly blessed man but you do not take it for granted and I am honoured that I get to see how incredible you are every single day, as a driver, as a partner, but most importantly as a human. Let yourself enjoy this Lew, you deserve it and I will be there watching in awe.”

“I love you so so much.” He says, his voice thick with emotion as he pulls you impossibly closer to him.

“I love you too,” You tell him softly, placing a kiss on his chest where he has squished your face into him, “now get some sleep, you have to be up in a few hours for that stupid early morning quali.”

Lewis had left early in the morning, sneaking out of bed around 3:30 to get ready. Only waking you accidentally when he placed a soft kiss on your forehead as he was leaving. He was apologetic, telling you to go back to sleep and that he would see you at the track. Not that you were able to get much more sleep, needing to get up and get ready yourself if you wanted any chance of making it there on time. When you had finally arrived to the garage, you made sure to perch yourself in the back, trying to stay out of the way of all the busy people rushing around you.You only got to see Lewis for a brief moment, only having enough time to give him a quick kiss and send him off with a final good luck encouragement. It was pointless though, you both knew the car wasn’t going to perform to Lewis’ liking. If anything it had somehow gotten worse for this weekend.

As you sat in the garage watching on you couldn’t help but cringe. Lewis was battling with the car, not even making it out of Q1. You knew his mood wouldn’t be amazing when he finally made his way back to you after going to be weighed and speak to the media. You watched the next session, baffled by the sheer chaos unfolding and you couldn’t help but pray that the race would end up being better. The grid was out of position and red flags were being thrown left and right. You let out a sigh when you saw your man finally enter the garage, his helmet still on. He stopped momentarily to speak with some of his engineers, shaking peoples hands and thanking them for their hard work. He finally locked onto you, gesturing for you to follow him as he made his way to his drivers room. When you walked in behind him you could see how heavy his shoulders were. His helmet had been discarded on the bench beside him but he still hadn’t turned around.

“Hey, we knew it was gonna be shit, right?” You said quietly, putting your hand on his damp back.

“Yeah, we did. I’m just so ready for this season to be over.” He finally said, letting out a deep breath as he turned to face you.

“We’re so close babe, so so close. And for now we get to take a little time away from this devil of a car.” You told him, wrapping your arms around his neck as his hands found your waist. Not caring one bit that he was soggy from the rain and the sweat, just content to be with your guy.

“Still got a race to do hun.” He reminded you, kissing his teeth.

“Oh I know, but let’s not think about that right now. I was talking about you getting behind the wheel of a Mclaren MP4 for a little while instead.” You smirk, leaning up towards his now smiling face.

“A proper race car.” He says, his smile threatening to split his face.

This is what you wanted, you wanted him to revel in the joy, revel in the honor of driving such an incredible car. Enjoy being behind the wheel of a Championship winning car once again even if it was only for a few laps and unlike the cars he was used to winning in.

“A legacy meant for a hometown hero to carry on, and a race car meant for a World Champion. It’s been waiting for another great to stretch its legs and they found just the right Brazilian for the job.” You whispered to him, your faces incredibly close now.

“If you keep talking like that I might end up locking you in here.” His voice is teasing as he wraps his arms around you.

“As much as I desperately want to say yes to that, I do believe you have something to get ready for.” You sigh, pulling back and patting his chest.

“I do, but we’ll use it for motivation later, I might need it.” He says as he peels himself off of you, his voice is playful but you both know he’s dead serious.

“The second we leave this track, I am all yours for as long as you want or need.” You promise, watching as he starts to change and prepare to go meet the Mclaren mechanics that have been looking after the historical car.

You sit in a comfortable peace for a while, occasionally exchanging words about little things that don’t really matter that much, just enjoying being in his space. You know that when the day is over you will have a full debrief, all of the frustration that he’s setting aside for this moment will inevitably bubble up once he’s in the safe privacy of the two of you alone, but for now you entertain his small talk and let him start to get excited about his incredible moment as he gets himself ready. When he’s ready he turns to you with childlike excitement bubbling at the surface and you can feel your heart swell.

“This is a good look for you.” You tell him, eyeing the all white suit with the Brazilian flag at his waist.

“I’m still mad I can’t wear his actual helmet.” Lewis grumbles with a shake of his head.

“I hate to say, I actually agree with them on that one babe, let’s keep your head safe, yeah?” You laugh.

“I know I know, don’t think it would even fit on my head anyway.” He playfully groans, making his way over to you.

“I like the special helmet for this weekend though, it’s still a tribute.” You remind him, knowing he’s half joking but wanting him to be fully confident when he steps out.

He nods, taking a moment to admire you before he’s pulling you close and landing his lips on yours in a kiss that takes you by surprise with its force.

“Thank you, for everything,” He starts when he finally pulls away, his forehead resting on yours, “for reminding me that I’m allowed to revel in this, for keeping me grounded,for letting me be excited, just for everything.”

“Hey, that’s why I’m here. You do the exact same for me when I need it, it’s why we work so well.” You say quietly, your hand coming to stroke his beard gently.

“If I don’t get to see you before I get in the car, just know your words from last night are gonna be in my head the entire time. I’m gonna let myself enjoy this, let myself feel this. Nothing else about today matters other than honouring and paying tribute to my childhood hero and getting to live out my childhood dreams of driving the car that made me want to start racing around the circuit that introduced me to another home.” His voice holds excitement and certainty as he speaks that makes you want to cry and kiss him all at once.

You’ve never been quite so proud of the man in front of you. Yes, you’ve cheered for him since the beginning, before you even met him. You’ve wept when he’s broken records and won each and every championship. Yet nothing quite compares to seeing this amazing moment and knowing just how much he deserves it, knowing that there is no one better to hold this responsibility and honor. There is no one like Aryton Senna and truly there never will be, and there is no one like Lewis Hamilton and there truly never will be.

“You know you’re doing for millions what he did for you, right?” You whisper, hoping he knows just the level of inspiration he gives to everyone watching him, young and old alike.

“I know, and it’s amazing to be able to do that.” He says, his smile warm.

You don’t say another word, giving him a long kiss, feeling connected to him in a way you both need in the moment, albeit for much different reasons. You are pouring every ounce of pride and amazement into the kiss, hoping he can feel it, while he is absorbing the love and reassurance that comes with your touch, letting himself feel his greatness and humble himself all at once. Finally there is a knock at the door, signalling that he really needs to get going, causing you to part from each other reluctantly.

“Okay, I gotta go do the most amazing thing of my entire career.” He says with a smile, “Be here when I get back?”

“I can’t promise I won’t be sobbing out near the pit wall but I will definitely find you, promise.” You laugh, giving him one last kiss before he grabs his helmet and makes his way over to the media garage where the incredible car is being stored for him.

It takes you a little while to get out to the pit lane that is already lined with people. You wish you could be closer, see the car up close but this isn’t your moment. Today is for Senna's family and the people of Brazil, you are just lucky enough to be able to witness the incredible moment in person.You know Lewis is somewhere down the pitlane, most likely trying to stay calm as he geeks out over the amazing machine he is about to drive. He has driven one of Senna’s cars before, but not in a long time, and not in this setting, not with this honor and audience. You also know that no matter how many times he may have had the privilege of being around and driving incredible race cars, he is a racing driver through and through and the excitement will never change. While you’re standing there smiling to yourself, thinking about how excited Lewis must be and taking in the incredible aura of the crowd, you catch sight of the live stream playing on the jumbotron. There he is, getting in his idols car, you watch as he takes a moment to really take it in just before he’s being strapped in. It’s funny to you to see him surrounded by Mclaren mechanics again, to see the goodyear tires you remember from your first ever F1 races. Then they’re rolling him out and the crowd gets their first in person glimpse of the car over the wall and the cheers echo through your soul. It takes a few more minutes for them to be ready and the atmosphere is building with anticipation but then they start the engine. The first rumble sends a chill down your spine and silences the track. The sound of the V10 roaring to life evoked a visceral feeling from you, bringing back memories of why you fell in love with the sport as a child in the first place and you could only imagine what the emotions coursing through Lewis in that moment were. You saw him shake his head in disbelief as he revved the engine and you could just picture the boyish grin that would be covering his face at that moment. Then it cut, he stalled, and you heard the boos and wanted to run and protect him. You knew it wasn’t his fault, and realistically you knew the crowd wasn’t booing him, they were booing the disruption of the soundtrack that was the incredible V10 engine and you also knew Lewis was smart enough to know that as well. The mechanics were quick, getting the engine back up rapidly and soon enough Lewis was headed out toward the track. He took a moment, the mechanics meeting him again and you prayed that everything would go to plan, this moment was too important to everyone for anything not to be perfect. And then you saw him, speeding past you in Senna’s Mclaren down the pit straight. The spray of water adding to the moment as he waved at the fans who were evidently stunned at the spectacle in front of them. Their recently adopted hero bringing them back to a moment with their lifelong hero. You couldn’t hold back your tears as you watched him complete lap after flawless lap, handling the car like he’d been driving it for years. You could only imagine what the emotions flowing through his body must be, so incredibly grateful to be able to witness the moment. When you saw him stop to grab the flag your tears picked up, watching the beauty of the moment as he completed his dream of waving his new country's flag as he drove his idol's car with no hands around the wet track. Everything about the moment was pure poetry.

By the time he parked the car on the grid, you were sure there wasn’t a dry eye in the entirety of Sao Paulo. You watched through teary eyes as Viviane went and spoke to him as he collected himself in the cockpit. You could see her thanking him and you knew that he was thanking her just as profusely. You tried to dry your eyes as you watched them pose with Senna's helmet while Lewis sat in the car, but they came back quickly. You finally managed to pull yourself together just a little bit as you watched him pose with flag but the second he knelt down next to the car as if to thank it for everything it had done for him and his idol, you lost it again, You couldn’t help but laugh at yourself just a bit, your emotions were definitely getting the best of you. You could see the emotion on Lewis’ face as he too pulled himself together to get ready for the interview. He was beaming, eternally grateful for the opportunity. You listened as he described his love for Brazil and the love he has received from the fans, you could hear the emotion thick in his voice the entire time, even through the incredible joy that was paired with it. You knew he meant it when he said it was the ‘honor of his career’ and you were certain this would be a moment that neither of you ever forgot. Everything about it was purely beautiful, seeing everyone pause for something so meaningful, you weren’t sure you had ever seen the sport so at one in your entire life.

When you saw him finally making his way to the pit lane you scramble to try to pull yourself together, hoping to be somewhat emotionally sound when you went to meet him in his drivers room, but he found you first, a strong arm slinking around your waist before you were being crushed in a tight hug. When he finally let you go you took a moment to take him in. The emotions were written all over his face, the weight of the profound moment sinking in for him as the joy was palpable. He took in your state, his eyes softening, knowing that every emotion on your face came from your love for him and your love for the sport.

“C’mon, lets go be alone for a second.” He said softly, guiding you toward the garage.

When you were safely inside his drivers room you turned to him, your words dying on your tongue as they didn’t feel enough to express just how proud of him you were. Instead you opted to grasp his face in your hands and kiss him, hard, tears falling down your cheeks as you did. When you finally parted from him you saw that the smile had never left his face.

“I think you’re more emotional about that entire thing than I am.” He teased you softly, wiping a stray tear from your cheek.

“Stop it,” You laughed, swatting at him pathetically, “I’m just so proud of you and so happy for you. I can only imagine what that meant to you.”

“Yeah, it was surreal, never had so many emotions at once. It felt incredible, it truly felt like a dream come true.” He said as he placed his hands on your waist, pulling you toward him.

“I was right you know, there was no one more suited for that than you.” You tell him softly.

“You were absolutely right, that felt perfect, Viviane was so kind and so grateful, I will never forget this.” He sighs and you can tell the weight of the weekend is leaving his body with it.

“Nothing else that happens this weekend matters, okay? This was what it was all for.” You assure him, placing your hand on the side of his neck.

“Thank you, you’re right, that was truly the only reason I am here this weekend, none of the rest matters in the slightest.” His eyes are soft as he melts into your touch.

“I know you said you wanted to be Senna or Superman but I think you may have achieved both just now. You are more than a hero to just about everyone here, me included.” You tell him softly, staring deep into his eyes as you do.

“That means a lot, I felt it while I was out there. It was a crazy feeling, getting to be that for everyone.” He says earnestly.

“You do it way more frequently than you think, even if you haven’t been feeling it lately.” You assure him, wanting him to know just how much you mean it.

He doesn’t respond but you can tell he’s just taking it in as he lets out a breath and traces circles on your hip. He’s a confident man, cocky at times, but even the strongest of soldiers can be weak in the face of defeat.

“I know you are a natural born competitor, but let's make a deal that your only objective today is just to come back to me in one piece. That’s all I ask of you.” You say after a moment, listening to the rain pickup against the roof.

“I will absolutely come back to you, but I ain’t making any promise about not also trying to pull that tractor as far forward as I can.” He laughs, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Okay fair enough, just need you in tiptop shape to be my superman when we get back to the hotel tonight.” You smirk, pinching his bicep.

“Well when you put it like that why don’t we just leave on a high note and head back right now?” He asks playfully, pulling you closer to him.

“I’m down, but you’ve gotta go keep being both Senna and Superman.” You giggle.

“Okay, I’ll do my best, but I’m still holding you to that even if this race is shit.” He says, pinching your bum.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

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american-horror-whore · 3 months ago

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𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐌𝐞 | 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐋𝐢𝐩𝐤𝐚 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

cw — nsfw, smut with no plot, creampie, overstimulation,

a/n — i’m gonna start trying to write again, i’ve just been mad busy, bummed out and uninspired. quitting was on my radar for a hot second, and then i realized i legally cannot leave you guys. anyways, enjoy

“Warren!!” You shriek, the sensation of his large fingers digging into your thighs causing sparks to fly through your body. Warren’s hands held your legs open, feeling them shaking, quivering under his grip. Your soaking cunt was exposed to the air of warren’s bedroom, feeling his sharp thrusts bruising your walls further and further. You were sat on Warren’s lap, his cock buried deep inside of your heat, your walls clenched tightly around him.

“Don’t close your legs until I say you can,” Warren demanded gruffly, his lips right by your ear. His teeth sank down into the skin of the helix of your ear. “Don’t close your fucking legs,”

“I won’t, I won’t-!!” You cry, feeling Warren’s hard thrust up inside you, burying himself further and further into your cervix. His lips traced your neck, his tongue gliding across your flesh, teeth scraping your skin. His tongue pressed against your pulse point, almost sucking on it.

Warren thrusted up roughly once more before letting up, laying you on your back. His warm body hovered over yours, straddling you. He hurriedly held himself, tracing his already leaking tip around your hole. The head of his dick traced in an up-and-down motion around your throbbing opening, which was practically crying itself a river. You shudder, your fingers clawing roughly at the sheets below, hoping to find some sense of stability in the plush duvet.

“Feels good, huh? I can tell by the way you’re shaking..” Warren chuckled huskily, his dark eyes becoming heavy.

He dropped his length from his hands, your eyes instantly drawing to the now bobbing stiffy. Warren let out a soft sigh, pressing a soft kiss to your clitoris. You shuddered a bit, going white-knuckled from the desperate grip on the duvet. Warren’s lips, which were quite frankly a bit chapped, continued their movements, their kisses. His tongue flicked against his lips, a movement which he hoped would help to ease the cracking in his skin to make his lips smoother.

Warren’s kisses slowly made their way up to your breasts. Planting soft pecks to your left breast, Warren’s hand goes up to grope the flesh of your right breast. His calloused fingers pinch and twist at your nipple, hoping to get any sound out of you, whether pain or pleasure, he didn’t care. Warren pinched your nipple with more pressure, feeling it harden beneath his touch.

“Fuck—“ You whine softly, lolling your head back against the mattress, your legs wrapping around Warren one by one.

His kisses continue, now moving to the opposite breast. His lips suck on your flesh, his teeth sinking down into the supple skin. Warren’s lips surround your nipple, sucking gently as his tongue started to make small circles around the skin. Warren pulled his lips away with a soft pop, looking up at your face for a reaction, even a look. When the only thing he got was closed eyes and incoherent mumbles, he knew he was doing something right.

“Yeah, babe…” Warren muttered weakly against your flesh, mostly just to push dialogue in hopes for a response.

He moved his kisses to your collarbone, his lips practically engulfing the length of bone. Once he knew he had you focused on the kisses, he pushed himself back, then forward sharply, his erection landing deep inside of you.

“Agh—!” You squeal, your head shooting back up in pleasure. Your hands shoot to his body, his head buried deeply into your neck. His hips rock against you, flesh slapping against each other, sweat and tears mingling in a dangerously pleasing sexual cocktail.

Until he came. Deep, deep inside you.

“Oh-!! Agh…F—Fuck…” Warren groaned, his head pushed back as his hips rocked shakily, moving with an unsteady rhythm. Luckily, you’d finished at the same time, meaning the poor, already exhausted man wouldn’t have to wait for you.

His head was back, his hair somehow still hanging in his face. Warren’s eyes were practically glued shut, tight enough for him to develop crows feet. His jaw was slightly slack, moans and pathetic small whimpers escaping the orifice.

Warren sighed, attempting in a futile manner to regain the small shreds of dignity he had left. His eyes darted around before looking down at your bodies, pulling his hips back slightly. He pulled his hips back, his shaft escaping your slit with a wet pop. You let out a tiny moan, pushing out some of his aftermath.

“Shit, you’re…you’re really fuckin’ wrecked, huh..?” Warren chuckled, his fingertip pushing his way shallowly between your lower lips, collecting that sweet substance. He pressed his finger to your mouth with a small laugh, watching as your tongue circled his finger.

“Atta girl..” He muttered gruffly.

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#evan peters #evan peters fandom #evan peters smut #warren lipka imagines #warren lipka #warren lipka x reader #warren lipka smut #warren lipka oneshots #american animals #american animals smut #american animals imagines #american animals oneshots #warren lipka x y/n #warren lipka x fem reader #warren lipka x you

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jollyhunter · 2 months ago

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24 Kinky Days with Dean x reader - Day 13.

⚝‿︵‿୨♡ ⚝ ♡୧‿︵‿⚝

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader

Warnings: NSFW - MDNI! - includes explicit sexual content. It's a kinky writing challenge, so expect anything at this point, (nothing freaky, don't worry) but it's a surprise calendar so I won't spoil it! (Also, English is not my native language) Contains brief reference to Dec.11 (Temptation)

Summary: You and Dean manage to piss off an Amor and in return he "gifts" you with a life-swap with two strangers for the next hours. Not much of a deal for you two, you think. You're hunters after all, so how bad could it be? Oh how wrong you were. Remember one of Dean's biggest fears? Yeah. About that.

Words: 3,100

⚝‿︵‿୨♡ ⚝ ♡୧‿︵‿⚝

Feedback and reblogs are highly appreciated! And let me know whether you enjoy it so far! <3 A/N: Alrighty, this was a bit of a wild ride.

I really need to write less and yet I end up writing more every time and keep screwing up my sleeping schedule damn it. This is the first time I've written this much dialogue. :') I'm still new to writing fanfics and now I'm a bit anxious about posting it haha. I really hope I got Dean right - I didn't get to proof read it yet, so maybe I'll adjust some small things tomorrow (or rather when I'm awake again in a couple of hours). EDIT: Yeah, I did edit it now. Just a quick heads up. Although I am still not entirely satisfied with it… I might rewrite this one someday but for now I gotta move on to the next prompt.

⚝‿︵‿୨♡ ⚝ ♡୧‿︵‿⚝

13th Dec. - Freaky Friday

"Love is in the air!" The amor chanted before popping off. At that point you didn't know yet that naked bastard meant it quite literally.

Next moment you open your eyes, you're stuck on an airliner with a screaming Dean next to you, in pilot uniform.

“I’m gonna kill that crotch-faced angel!” Dean yells, his face beyond pissed.

“Jesus- What the hell just happened!?” You sputter, blinking at him rapidly. You find yourself clinging to the armrests as your body tries to catch up with the sudden shift of surrounding. One moment you’d been standing in a dining kitchen, next thing you know you’ve been hurled into a cockpit’s seat 30’000 miles in the sky.

“Goddamn sky nudist, that’s what happened,” Dean growls, hands instinctively patting down his new clothings in search of his colt. He grits his teeth with an exaggerated roll of his eyes, “Of course he stripped me of my stuff.” His eyes roam the cockpit, the realization slowly settling in and his stomach twisting into sickening knots, “This gotta be some kinda sick joke.”

“What joke?” A voice startles both of you, Dean even briefly clasps his chest with his hand. You both snap your heads around to face a young, scraggly guy who looks like he’s one sneeze away from lifting off.

“Who invited you to the party?” Dean asks sarcastically, eyebrow arched and eyeing the poor lad with scepticism.

“I- uhm – I’m part of the cabin crew… I’m Bob.” He sputters, his fingers fiddling with his name tag before his eyes dart back and forth between you, curiously. “What party?”

“He’s being sarcastic, Bob.” You crack an amused, lop sided smile.

“Great, we’ve got ourselves another birdbrain. Just without the angel-juice.” Dean quips, rubbing his face in annoyance. “You better buckle up, kid. This’ll be a bumpy ride if it's real.”

“Maybe… it’s just a dream?” You try to reason, although you are pretty positive that this is anything but a dream, “I mean, he’s an angel after all. He wouldn’t put you in charge of 200 passengers, right?“

“660,“ Bob chimes in matter-of-factly, „It’s 660 passengers. Plus 16 cabin crew and that’s-”

“Bob. Not helping.“ You cringe inwardly.

“Including me…” he adds in a small voice.

“And who gave you permission to add your crap?” Dean deadpans at Bob before his head snaps back at you, “And you kiddin’ me? When did angels start to care about any of us?“

“Right - fair enough. Then, uh, let‘s just get the co-pilot. Bob, where‘s the man of the moment?” You turn to glance at the steward again.

“Uh,” Bob mutters with a nervous smile, “That would be you, miss.”

“What?” You look down and notice just now, that indeed, you were wearing a pilot’s uniform. “Really? No stewardess? Well, uh, that’s… refreshing.”

“Fantastic. Just fantastic.” Dean mutters next to you.

„Tell you what — I‘m gonna call Cas,“ Dean fumbles for his phone, „He can shazam us out of this shitshow- Nah! Come on!“ he cuts himself short and throws his hand in the air, “That son of a bitch took my phone as well!“

“Dean - breath - you’re panicking-“ you try to calm him down but get cut short.

“I’m not panicking! I’m peachy as fuck!” he retorts, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Just because I‘m a little worried about being stuck up in this flyin’ tin can of death doesn‘t mean I‘m freakin’ out.” Dean defends himself, his eyes narrowed, trying his best to act tough and offended. When in reality his grip on the armrest is close to a breaking point.

You reach out a hand to place it on his arm, when suddenly the plane shudders and Dean’s eyes go as wide as saucers, his grip on the armrest now enough to strangle the life out of a man.

Bob pipes up with recovered confidence, “It‘s just a little bit of turbulence, Captain. I fly this same route every day, it‘s perfectly normal.”

Dean’s head whips around to shoot Bob a deadpan glare, “Yeah, ‘cuz you’re totally unbiased, aren’t ya?” Bob blinks at him, seemingly not understanding a single word he said. “I’m not your Captain, kid.” He clarifies with an exasperated groan.

Bob looks like his face has been hit with a wet towel, “But… you’re wearing a pilot’s uniform.”

Dean shoots you a sarcastic smile. “Oh, bless his heart.”

You sigh, “Thanks for stating the obvious, Bob.”

There’s a beat of silence.

“So... you are pilots.” he concludes.

“Shut up, trolly-boy.” Dean snaps gruffly before he turns back to face the sky in front of them. He runs a frustrated hand down his face, unsure what to say with his usual bravado seemingly dissipated.

“I need a drink,” Dean mutters to himself after a moment of silence, the sweat beading on his forehead.

Bob takes this as his cue and proudly hands him a bottle of water.

“This better be gin.” He grumbles and uncaps the bottle, downing it in one go. He sets the empty bottle down on the ground, his eyes flicking across the dashboard of the cockpit. His hair gets ruffled by a frustrated hand of his, before Dean suddenly pushes himself off the seat, muttering. “I need some fresh air.”

“Sure, let’s just open a window - are you insane??” You shout after him, turning in your seat. Bob shoots you the look of a deer caught in headlights, his face drained of all blood as he watches him walk out on them. You roll your eyes before you get up to rush after Dean.

“Just keep the damn plane in the sky.” You clap him briefly on the shoulder, at which Bob stutters something along the line of ‘this not being part of his job description’. But you cut him short with a mocking smile and a brisk slap to the chest. “It’s your lucky day, pal. You just got promoted. Now just don’t screw the pooch ‘till we’re back.” And off you went, slamming the cockpit door shut behind you. Leaving poor Bob back with nothing less but 10,000 switches, dials and buttons. And an empty water bottle.

***

You hurry after Dean who just disappeared in the lavatory. “Dean, wait-” you get inside as well, already feeling a slight deja-vu of the cooped up situation in here, but choose not to comment on it now. “Look, I know this sucks but… I think I’ve got an idea how we can get out of this.”

Dean tries and fails to pace in the narrow cabin. He’s now running his hand through his hair in a frantic manner instead. “Oh yeah? Please, indulge me.” He says sarcastically, his breath slightly shaky.

“Dean, listen to me,” you pause, your fingers pinching the bridge of your nose, “God… I can’t believe I’m saying this but…” you take a deep breath, fighting the urge to curse out a certain naked love-angel, “The way I see it… Right now, the lives of 676 innocent people depend on your dick.”

“Uh-“ Dean stares at you for a moment, dumbfounded, “Are you trying to flirt with me? ‘Cuz that’s one hell of an odd pick up line.” His lips shift into a mischievous smirk, “It’s kinda hot though.”

“DEAN,” You groan in exasperation, “I’m being serious! Lives are at stake here!” You reach over to lock the door with a bit more force than needed. “Including my ass!” You add as you whip around to face him again.

Dean throws his hands up in mock surrender, “Okay, okay! I get it! Just sayin’, it’s a weird thing to say to your boyfriend!” He plops down on the toilet seat behind him, his expression one of mock-seriousness, his lips twitching, “So what’s my dick gotta do with the fate of this plane?”

You sigh and lean back against the door, your knees almost touching his in the narrow lavatory. “Love is in the air.” You state matter-of-factly before you continue, “That’s what the Amor said, remember? It’s a lesson, Dean - we gotta… ya know-” while you speak you make an obscene hand gesture to get your point across, “- do it.”

Dean’s eyebrows shoot up, nearly disappearing into his hairline, “Whoa, whoa, whoa - slow down there, Squeak. You can’t be serious, you really want us to-”

Before he could finish the sentence, the plane lurched suddenly, causing you both to grab for each other and almost knocking heads. Your eyes lock, realization dawning on you that time’s ticking. Fast.

“No time for explanations,” you blurt out, “You just gotta trust me on this.” You drop to your knees between his legs, your hands working the buckle of his belt. When suddenly Dean pipes up.

“I can’t.”

Your mind just came to a screeching halt at those two words. “What?” You sputter, looking up at him in disbelief.

“I can’t do it.” He repeats in a low voice, clearing his throat this time. And his eyes dart around the lavatory in an attempt to avoid your flabbergasted look.

Silence.

“We literally fucked in a public fitting room the other day and you want to tell me you can’t do this?” You stare at him wide-eyed. This entire situation seemed like a stupid joke to you. Dean’s dismissing a chance to bang you? Ridiculous.

Dean looks taken aback by your argument, his face scrunched up in an offended manner. “Hey! That wasn’t 30’000 miles in the air - s’not the same!-” His voice turns into a little screech when you cup his privates in the middle of his arguing, “Hey, hey- whoa- easy there!” He sputters, his voice a few octaves higher than usual. His fingers wrap around the edge of the toilet seat in a death grip, forcing himself to regain his composure in front of you.

His cheeks flush with a faint pink when his eyes finally meet yours again. “He’s-” he croaks out before he cuts himself short. He clears his throat and forces his voice to its usual confident, gruff tone, “He’s scared. Alright?” His jaw clenches and he looks away again, forcing a sarcastic smile when he scoffs, “Go on, laugh it up.”

Oh. Now it clicked in your head. You suddenly feel bad for snapping at him, but you still can’t help the hint of an amused smile tugging at the corner of your lips. He felt so embarrassed, it was almost endearing. “Well,” you smack your lips, your soft voice carrying a hint of teasing, “Guess I’ll just have to step up my game then.” You push yourself to your feet and before Dean gets to object, you disappear out the door with a quick wink at him. Dean stares at the door in confusion, his eyes occasionally darting down to his half-exposed boxers and its non-existent bulge. His jaw clenches and he curses a silent “Damnit”, already regretting that he told you.

A few minutes later, the door to the lavatory swings open again. And Dean’s breath hitches at the sight in front of him. “I thought you’d like this, Captain Winchester.” You drawl out his name in an extra sultry tone. Your finger playing at the neckline of your tight stewardess outfit. And his attention was effectively drawn to your subtly bobbing breasts whenever the plane shook. It had taken some smooth talking but you had managed to trade clothings with one of the stewardess’. Not without raising a few eyebrows though. But hey, lives are at stake here. And if the Winnichester needs some coaxing then you’ll damn well do so by wearing a super short blue skirt and a tight blouse with your pushed up boobs hanging out halfway. “Damn,” Dean swallows thickly, his voice cracking slightly, “You- uh- you look hot.” He starts to fidget around on the toilet lid, his eyes roaming you up and down with a sudden look of lust.

“So do you, Captain.” You hum, your teeth grazing your lips slowly. The pilot uniform fit him perfectly. Just how you had always imagined him. You secretly always hoped that the day would come where he’d need to wear one for a case, but of course that chance never came. Until now. And damn, the sight made your stomach tingle and the fabrics of your panties dampen.

But the moment is ruined by another strong turbulence, making the plane lurch again, this time stronger. You stumble forward and Dean panics, his hands braced against a wall each, “Oh come on! This can’t be normal!”

You take the chance and with one ‘wrong step’ you land on his thighs, both your knees straddling his hips. Taking the moment back by force. Dean startles for a moment, gasping for air as he’s torn between panicking from the planes sudden alarming noise, or feeling turned on by your bold action.

You shift on his lap, your wetted panties grinding against his covered crotch. Dean’s eyes briefly flutter closed, biting back a groan. Without another word, you lean in and capture his lips in a passionate kiss, which Dean quickly succumbs to. After a moment, you break the kiss again, leaving him breathless and still a bit befuddled.

“You listen to me,” you command in a sultry tone while you cup his cheeks with both hands, holding his gaze, “You will fuck me now as if our lives depend on it. Ya hear me, Dean Winchester? I know you can do it.” Because our lives do depend on it, you add mentally.

Dean swallows thickly, his mouth suddenly going dry. After a moment of silence, despite the unsettling increasing clattering of the cabins and the rattling of the floor beneath them, Dean nods. “Yeah, I hear ya.” He replies huskily.

You can see in his darkened eyes how his fear is slowly dissipating and making room for excitement and lust. His hands slide off the walls to move to your waist and he rolls his hips up against you to show the effect you’re having on him. And indeed, his erection is twitching against the fabrics, begging to be released now. He looks up at you with that cocky smirk of his, finally carrying his usual confidence again. “Ready to be air-boned?”

“Seriously now?” You snort with an amused chuckle, your eyes roaming his pilot uniform, “Come on, Captain,” you playfully swat his thigh and then lean in, your lips grazing his ear, “I’ve always dreamed of gettin’ laid by a pilot. Hard.”

At that Dean’s green eyes glint with eagerness and desire. He raises an eyebrow and chuckles, “That so?” Without a warning, he grabs you by the hips and he pushes off the toilet lid. With a tight grip on you, he whips you around and bends you over the small washbasin. You gasp when you suddenly find yourself shoved into the mirror, your hipbones pressed firmly against the edge.

He leans down next to your ear, whispering gravelly, “Hold on tight,” His fingers dig into your hips to angle them slightly up, making you arch your back. “’m gonna make this so much better than your dream, sweetheart.” You shudder from his touch, the heat already pooling between your legs. He runs his hands up your inner thighs until he reaches your skirt which he slowly nudges upwards until he’s got his eyes on your exposed ass. He bites his lips with a low groan. “Damn, you look so beautiful, baby.” His fingers hook under the hem of your panties pulling them down to your knees in one swift movement. You stifle a moan, your thighs already dripping wet. Dean pulls his boxers down and his hard erection twitches against your ass as he leans down again, his chest firmly pressed against your back as he traps you underneath him. “Gonna fuck you ‘till we touch down. That sound good for you?” He growls with a cheeky smirk, his hot breath tingling your skin.

A low whine escapes your lips, pleading with a “y-yes- please.” You’re begging for him to take you already, to pin you down and fuck you like an animal. Your throbbing clit was aching for relief by now. You pant against the mirror and you feel your mind going hazy. Your head drops forward when you feel his fingers brush against your slick folds with a low groan of his.

“Jesus, you’re killing me sweetheart…” he whispers against the nape of your neck. He hooks his two fingers into your cunt to pull you back with a quick tug. You moan loudly but quickly get muffled by his hand, his middle finger slipping past your lips for you to suck on. And you suck hard, drawing a moan out of him this time.

“You ready to be banged to the heavens?” he asks deeply, his fingers slipping out of you again to part your folds open.

You nod, eagerly, a low muffled moan leaving your jammed mouth. Dean hums satisfied with your response and next moment he pushes his thick cock inside you. Despite his size, you take him with ease by now. But not without a guttural moan and you buckling for a moment. Dean quickly slips one hand underneath to your stomach to hold you in position. He doesn’t hold back long, after a few slow in and outs, he thrusts into you like there’s no tomorrow. Seemingly unloading all the pent-up tension from before. The hand on your stomach dips a bit lower, his finger flicking over your swollen nub, determined to get you there along him. His other hand leaves your mouth to push down on your lower back, pinning you down beneath him while his teeth graze at the skin of your neck. He grunts and groans, slamming into you like an animal. You meanwhile whine and whimper, your legs shaking from the relentless thrusts of his cock getting driven inside you, the turbulences only adding to the sensation. He picks up his pace, deep and rough, just the way he knew you liked it.

It didn’t take long for you both to reach the edge. Equally panting and trembling. When you finally come undone with one last hard thrust, you almost scream his name and your walls clamp him, taking him over the edge with you. Dean collapses on top of you with a shuddering, exhausted groan, but quickly makes sure to not bury you beneath him by propping himself up on his elbows.

After a moment of catching his breath, he whispers softly, “Damn… that was… intense.” his forehead drops to your shoulder and he pants heavily against your back, his damp hair tickling your neck. “You doing good, sunshine?”

You finally manage to flutter your eyes open again and it takes you a second to realize where you are. “Oh my God, Dean.” You exclaim breathlessly. You tip your head back, nudging him with your back-head. Dean slowly raises his head, just enough to look over your head, expecting to see his reflection in the mirror. But instead is faced with a swaying kitchen pan.

“Jesus,” he mutters a bit shocked, “Don’t tell me-” “Yes!” you cut him short while wiggling free from underneath him, “It worked! Love is in the air, baby!”

⚝‿︵‿୨♡ ⚝ ♡୧‿︵‿⚝

Masterlist of opened windows:

1st Dec. - Sunshine 2nd Dec. - Spell Book 3rd Dec. - Lights Out 4th Dec. - Tickle 5th Dec. - Dirty UNO 6th Dec. - (TBA) 7th Dec. - Candlelight 8th Dec. - Hex Play 9th Dec. - Whip Stroke 10th Dec. - Barbie World 11th Dec. - Temptation

⚝‿︵‿୨♡ ⚝ ♡୧‿︵‿⚝

Tags:

@ariasong11 @deansjacket @literallylexa @lmpala1967 @foxyjwls007 @impala67rollingthroughtown

#dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester smut #spn reader insert #dean x you #spn x reader #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester #spn #kinky advent calendar #supernatural smut #supernatural

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bangaveragewhitewine · 11 months ago

Text

the boy is mine (amy's edition)

Written as part of @carolmunson ‘s the boy is mine writing exercise which is such a fun and gorgeous idea!

wc: 1,800

contents: love-sick best friends turned lovers, set in 1985 (there's an angstier version of this in my drafts...), allusions to sex (nothing explicit), Eddie's boner mention, kissing until your lips hurt

notes: Well, I’d love to lie and say that this was a breeze, but writing has been incredibly difficult for me lately. Fighting with myself comes easier than writing these days, but this is a really fabulous idea. Feeling ✨part of something✨ is really special (and a little daunting). Thank you, Carol 🩷

the scene: a romantic night-in at the trailer.

the guidelines: prompt, props and dialogue are all here

April 1985

You watch silver smoke curl and melt into the air as the cigarette burns between Eddie’s lips. The scent of it cuts through the lingering fug of weed and sex and sweat. His hands are busy with pen and paper, jotting lyric ideas into his little notebook.

It feels a little bit romantic that he is so inspired after fucking you.

Your chilly feet rub together beneath the covers. It’s hard to resist the urge to stick them between his shins but you don’t want to ruin his artistic flow by shocking him with your arctic toes.

Fade to Black plays from the boombox on his messy dresser. Eddie had wound the tape back to restart the almost seven-minute track after the first listen-through and grinned unapologetically when you rolled your eyes at him. His head bobs to the beat as he scribbles and you shift your attention to a particularly perfect curl lying across his shoulder, the dark black ink pressed into his skin.

If your camera were closer, you would snap a picture of him. But for now, you store the image of him away in your mind. In twenty, thirty, forty years, you will remember tonight and smile. There’s a whole life ahead of you to plan with him, and you’re pretty sure Eddie wants in on it too.

“Your Mama never told you it’s rude to stare, princess?” he asks, rereading what he had just spilled onto the page. He clicks the pen three times before folding the notebook closed. His wave of inspiration has peaked and you are, once again, his sole focus.

“Maybe. Probably.” You shrug one shoulder before taking the cigarette from between his lips.

The way your lips hug the filter makes Eddie’s body thrum to life all over again. When you lean across him to tap off the ash, he takes his chance to pull you against his chest and lock you into his lap, closer than close. The cigarette is left to burn out as you trade smokey, wet kisses back and forth between smiling lips until you are both laughing at nothing, at everything. At that little whiney noise lodged in the back of Eddie’s throat, and the way he taps the opening bars of Trapped Under Ice against your bare body.

That throaty, dirty laugh makes you feel warm all over. His cheeks are rosy-warm and cherubic when he smiles at you. You want to nibble them but settle on gentle kisses instead. His eyelids and forehead are next, then his nose, before you work your way back to his lips. It’s a tender moment after those almost unstoppable giggles, rib-aching and eye-watering laughter that comes easy when you’re with Eddie - more free-flowing when you’re still a little bit faded.

“Want the rest of that pizza?” Eddie asks after a few moments. His mouth has been busy kissing your neck and shoulder, and the way his breath catches on damp patches makes you shiver.

A few more smiling kisses are traded before you vacate the cocoon of body-warm blankets together to don discarded sweaters and underwear. Eddie glues himself to your back in a penguin shuffle to the kitchenette to raid the forgotten pizza box and the stash of munchie-friendly snacks stowed away in the cupboard.

The formica feels cool against the back of your thighs as you chew thoughtfully on the cooled-off slice. There are empty cans of High Life on the table between the melted candles; Eddie’s romantic ideas of tea lights and the champagne of beers had set the butterflies in your stomach swirling when you stepped into the trailer that evening. The VHS cases and TV remote are lost between the couch cushions and throw pillows, cast aside before you could even decide what to watch in favour of making out hot and heavy.

Eddie holds up two soup-recipe mugs. “I ran out of like, nice cups, this okay?" he asks.

The unwashed everyday mugs are abandoned in the sink and Eddie’s own Garfield mug is a quarter full of flat soda on his dresser. You know better than to suggest one of the collectables perched high on the shelves and hooks in the living room, and Eddie does too. Wayne is still irked about the cracked commemorative Moon Landing mug. It’s been glued together and sits safely on a higher-up shelf since thirteen-year-old Eddie had wanted to impress you, his new friend, with hot cocoa.

You look back at the bowl-cups, and wonder if anyone ever used the recipe on the front. “They are nice. I’ve always wanted to drink not-soup out of these. Feels illegal.”

Everyone always said he would be a bad influence on you, drag you down. They never saw that soft side to Eddie Munson, but you did. Using soup bowls as cups is far from ritual sacrifice and grand theft auto.

When he looks at you, perched on the counter in his hoodie and no pants, eating cold pizza, he feels like he might be looking at an angel. Your post-sex hair is your messy halo.

He comes to stand between your thighs and you feed him a bite before pushing his bangs back to kiss his forehead simply because you want you. Because you can now. Now that the pretence of being just friends has finally (finally) been dropped. Everything about your night together - now that you are together - is pretty similar to how it’s always been. Pizza and laughing until your ribs hurt, smoking enough to make you loose-limbed and ravenous. You spend less time looking at his lips and fingers and wondering what they feel like; you know now, and get to sample any time.

He steals one more bite before popping the lid on a can of Betty Crocker vanilla frosting from the cupboard. It has been a solid fixture of your garbage-food fixes since you and Eddie were fourteen and fifteen and home alone with a stack of horror movies to watch; Betty and two spoons, maybe some peanut butter or salty chips for balance. Now there is always a can in the cupboard, in your house and in the trailer, for when the cravings hit. When you move to Indy together after graduation, it’s top of your grocery list.

Eddie feeds you the first spoon, hovering it in front of your lips so you will come and take it. He feels a little like a pervert when he watches you eat it, lips around the cold metal and your eyes closed. You know exactly what you’re doing, doling out a little payback for Eddie getting distracted with his lyrics and set-lists while you were cuddling.

“Did anyone ever tell you it’s rude to stare?” you ask, tongue thick and coated with sweet vanilla.

“Just appreciating the art, sweet thing,” he fires back, winking at you before taking a bite of frosting. His brows pull in like he’s pondering something. “Mm. Wonder if there’s a Mr Crocker…”

You shove his head as he cackles that goblin-laugh of his and you try not to smirk at the same joke he’s been telling for years.

“You want an older model, Munson? Karen Wheeler’s been looking pretty dolled up lately…” You take the spoon, tapping it against your lip as Eddie pulls a face.

“Oh yeah, MILFs of Hawkins, come get me.” Eddie rolls his eyes before sliding his fingers up your bare legs to find the soft curve of your waist. “Only girl for me is riiight here, baby. You’re all the woman I need.”

He’s pressed up close with his chin resting against your chest, gazing at you like you hung the moon.

“Better tell O’Donnell that. I think she has a crush, s’why she keeps giving you detention.”

“You’re a fuckin’ sicko.” Eddie’s reverence shifts into a scowl as he rests against your chest, but softens again when your fingers slide into his hair, coaxing him to relax and melt against you.

“And you like that?” you ask.

“I do.”

Eddie can feel the sped-up thud of your heart beneath his ear, matching the beat of his own. A peaceful moment settles over the kitchen.

Until a tendril of mischief unfurls inside you. Imitating that nasally, cringe-inducing voice of O’Donnell blended with something a little breathy, you whisper in his ear, “Edward Munson. I want to see you after class. You’ve been a very bad boy…”

He steps back from you, hands over his ears so he can’t hear any more of your teasing. It’s cold without him all wrapped up and pressed against you.

“Divorce. Divorcing you. Get out.”

Your cheeks ache, like when you’ve had a lollipop lodged there for a little too long. It’s sweet and cloying like the joy you take from riling him up like this. “Aw, don’t be like that!”

“Too late. I’m taking the house and the kids.”

“That’s not even…” you cut yourself off, laughing too hard, and Eddie can’t even hide his own smile; he can’t buy into his own dramatics when you sit glowing on his kitchen counter, damp-eyed from laughing so hard (even if it is at his expense).

“M’sorry, sorry. Don’t divorce me.” You pout and open your arms out, grabby hands poking from the too-long sleeves until he slopes back between your legs and folds against you. Your mind wanders briefly to a future where you’re Mrs Munson; it sounds nice.

As stubborn as he can be, Eddie thaws after a few sweet kisses cut with quiet little murmurs of ‘forgive meee’. You feed him another spoon of icing as a sign of peace, sweetening him up just a little more before licking what’s left off of the tip and edge.

You feel his hands squeezing tighter on your hips, bringing your attention back to Eddie and away from the frosting.

“Hm?”

“If you don't stop, we're gonna have a problem.” He sees your confused expression and taps the spoon. “I’m gettin’ jealous. Of a spoon.”

You can feel the problem, warm and thick against your leg. It does not feel like much of a problem, and you both can think of a few tried and tested solutions to make it all better - a few more to be explored are jotted on a page of another small notebook tucked away in Eddie’s drawer.

“Is it a problem? Really?” you ask, head tilted with the metal tap-tapping against your lips before you go in for another indulgent scoop.

“Okay, I’m cutting you off.”

The spoon is snatched and thrown, and it clangs against the mugs in the sink as Eddie takes your hands and hauls you down from the counter. You taste vanilla on his tongue, sharing the sweetness with you as you stumble blindly back to his room.

thank you for reading🩷reblogs, likes and comments are welcome and cherished!

Don't forget to check out the rest of the fics from the challenge!!

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x yn #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #bangaveragefics

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