#gonna go read what I got for some of these

[star-cats]

I was gonna put this in the tags but it was too long. There were several Incidents. I was mostly a good quiet kid but I got in trouble for the weirdest things. Mostly in elementary school.

It was the last day of first grade. My 2 friends and I were pretending to be cats which we did a lot for some reason. Friend 1 said her and I should pretend to get in a cat fight. Ok sure. So we were hissing at each other and flailing our hands around. (Friend 2 was just kinda standing there watching us.) I accidentally hit Friend 1 with my hand and left a small scratch on her skin. Friend 1 immediately started crying and went to the teacher. She said "[Birthname] scratched me on purpose!" and my heart sank. The teacher started yelling at me and I kept saying it was an accident and that I was sorry. But the teacher just kept yelling at me. She said if it wasn't the last day of school she would have suspended me. Then Friend 2 told the teacher that she saw the whole thing happen and it really was an accident. The teacher believed Friend 2 and thanked her for telling the truth. The teacher never apologized to me though. The situation was really odd because I never got in trouble with that teacher before and she was acting like I was horrible. "Friend" 1 hated me for the rest of elementary school. Ironically we were in the same class in 2nd grade and she bullied me that year. I tried to tell my 2nd grade teacher who didn't do anything to stop it. "Friend" 1 found out and called me a tattletale.

2nd grade: There were a couple of things actually. My 2nd grade teacher seemed to hate me because I was bad at math, so she got mad at me a lot. She was having us memorize our times tables and would give us multiplication worksheets that we had to finish in like 5 minutes. I wrote really slowly so I kept failing even though I knew the answers. I got into many arguments about this with the teacher, who concluded I just wasn't trying hard enough. She punished me by not letting me read in class, even during reading time. We were supposed to read like 2 books a week I think and the teacher was somehow shocked when I couldn't do that.

Later, this teacher thought I wasn't paying attention in class so she sat this girl next to me who was bullying me and told the bully to help me pay attention. The bully did this by hitting me with pencils and saying "pay attention!" I told the teacher about this but she didn't believe me.

I was sitting in the playground one day and was bored. There was a pile of small pebbles near me. I went to this empty dirt patch and tossed the pebbles into the dirt one at a time. The bully saw this and told the teacher I was "throwing boulders" and I got in trouble for this. My mom had to write a long letter to the teacher saying she explained that I shouldn't throw things and that I wouldn't do it again, and we both signed it.

Middle School: We had to wear uniforms and were supposed to tuck in our shirts. I got yelled at a few times for forgetting to tuck in my shirt.

I didn't personally get in trouble for this but some colors weren't allowed to be worn because they were "gang colors". A girl's backpack was confiscated because it was orange. My older sister wasn't allowed to wear a pink dress to a school dance. My mom asked the school how pink was a gang color and they said it was a shade of red, a common gang color.

High School: I was late to first period a lot because my school had a strict policy about it. The teachers were told to lock the door at exactly 7:35 am and if you were even a minute late you had to go to the cafeteria for in school detention. We had to sit there in silence for 15 minutes before going back to class. One time the staff member supervising this made us write a paragraph about why were were late. She looked at mine and said "That’s not a vaild reason to be late." and I just looked at her confused. I wrote why I was late, I'm not sure what she was expecting. I got detention after school once for being late too many times even though I was never more than 5 minutes late.

what's the most demented thing you guys got in trouble for in school mine was when an english boy in my class made fun of my name and called my mum a (derogatory word for irish travellers) so i told him my ira uncle was in town and was coming to blow him up after school

[charmed-quill]

The Bet// F.W x Reader

authors note at end.

summary: Fred Weasley and y/n make a bet: whoever gets a date to the Yule Ball first wins. But what starts as harmless competition devolves into full-blown war.

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word count: 6.2k

The Yule Ball had been the only thing anyone could talk about for the past few hours. Every conversation in the common room seemed to circle back to it, who was going to ask who, what everyone would wear, and, most importantly, who would end up going alone.

Y/n sat curled up in one of the cushy armchairs by the fire, pretending to be absorbed in her book. The flames flickered, casting a warm glow over the common room, but she wasn’t really reading, she was listening. 

Fred and George were sprawled across the couch nearby, talking in the way they always did: half-serious, half-dramatic, and entirely too loud.

"Everyone’s gonna be in a frenzy tomorrow morning," Fred said, stretching his arms behind his head.

George frowned, his brow furrowing slightly. "How do you mean?"

Fred waved a hand around vaguely. "You know," he said, searching for the right words, "like... everyone’s gonna be scrambling to get a date before all the good ones are taken."

At that, y/n finally glanced up, raising an eyebrow. "Why would they be scrambling?" she asked, feigning ignorance even though she already knew the answer.

Fred let out a sigh, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Because no one wants to be the last one left without a date," he said, like it was some kind of universal truth. "Gotta snatch up the best options before they’re all gone."

Y/n scoffed, closing her book and resting it on her lap. "Define ‘good ones.’"

Her voice had that familiar teasing edge to it, and she narrowed her eyes just slightly, watching as Fred hesitated for a second too long. He always got flustered when she turned her full attention on him, and she found no small amount of amusement in that.

George, of course, was thoroughly entertained, smirking as he watched Fred try to think of a response.

"You know," Fred said eventually, shrugging like it was no big deal. "Fun ones. People you can actually stand being around for an entire night."

Y/n hummed thoughtfully, tapping a finger against the cover of her book. "So what, if you wait too long, you’re stuck with someone unbearable?"

Fred opened his mouth, then shut it again, realizing too late that anything he said now could get him into trouble. George chuckled under his breath, clearly enjoying watching his twin dig himself into a hole.

"That’s not what I meant," Fred tried to backtrack. "Just" He sighed, shaking his head. "You’re twisting my words."

Y/n grinned, leaning back in her chair. "Am I?"

Fred rolled his eyes, but there was no real frustration behind it. It was just how their dynamic worked, Fred talked too much, and y/n made it her mission to make him regret it.

"So," George cut in, glancing between them. "You’ve got a plan, then? Gonna ask someone first thing in the morning?"

Y/n snorted. "Please. I don’t even know who I’d ask."

Fred raised an eyebrow, tilting his head at her. "You’re kidding."

"Dead serious," y/n said, stretching her legs out in front of her. "Haven’t really thought about it."

George let out a low whistle. "Risky move. Someone might snatch up all the ‘good ones’ before you get the chance."

Y/n rolled her eyes but smirked. "Guess I’ll just have to settle for one of you two, then."

Fred and George exchanged a look before Fred gasped dramatically, pressing a hand to his chest. "Merlin’s beard, George, we’re her last resort!"

George sighed, shaking his head. "Tragic, really."

Y/n laughed, nudging Fred’s foot with her own. "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. It’s not like either of you have dates yet, either."

Fred opened his mouth to argue, then hesitated. "Alright, fair point."

George grinned. "Maybe we should be scrambling."

Y/n stretched her arms over her head before smirking at the twins, her book long forgotten in her lap. "I won’t be scrambling," she said breezily. "I basically have to beat the guys away with a stick."

Fred scoffed loudly, crossing his arms as he leaned back against the couch. "As if." He shot her a challenging grin, that familiar mischievous glint in his eye. "I bet I can get a date before you can even say ‘Yule Ball.’"

Y/n sat up a little straighter, the flicker of competition sparking in her chest. She knew that look, Fred Weasley never backed down from a challenge, and honestly? Neither did she.

"Oh yeah?" she said, raising an eyebrow. "You wanna shake on it?"

Fred’s grin widened, his head tilting slightly. "What are the stakes?"

Y/n paused, tapping a finger against her chin as she considered. It had to be something good, something that would really make losing painful.

"Whoever loses has to be the winner’s personal assistant for a week," she finally declared, a smug smile creeping onto her lips. "Anything they need; carrying books, fetching snacks, covering for them when they’re late to class."

George let out a low whistle. "That’s dangerous," he mused, glancing between them with amusement. "I like it."

Fred, however, didn’t even hesitate. He barely took a second to think before sticking his hand out toward her. "You’re on."

Y/n grinned as she clasped his hand firmly, shaking it once. The deal was set.

As she leaned back in her chair, she couldn’t help but feel a thrill of excitement. This wasn’t just about getting a date anymore, this was about winning. And if there was one thing she loved just as much as messing with Fred Weasley, it was beating him at his own game.

—

The next morning, y/n was up before the sun had fully risen, determination settling deep in her chest.

She was going to win this bet.

She was going to win this bet and rub it in Fred’s stupid, smug face.

Her uniform was neat, her tie perfectly knotted, and her shoes freshly shined as she practically bounced down the stairs toward the Great Hall. The air was crisp, and the halls were still relatively empty, most students weren’t quite awake yet, dragging themselves toward breakfast like they were being led to execution.

Not her, though. She had a plan.

Sliding into her usual seat at the Gryffindor table, she ate with purpose, shoveling food into her mouth while her mind worked through her options. She started categorizing potential dates, ranking them from most to least likely to say yes.

She briefly considered asking George, he’d say yes in a heartbeat, if only to reap the benefits of her inevitable victory, but she scrapped the idea just as quickly. Where was the fun in that? No, she wanted to win properly.

By the time the Great Hall had started filling up with groggy students, she had made her decision.

Daniel Scott, a Hufflepuff in her year, was her best shot. It was no secret he fancied her, and she had a feeling he’d jump at the opportunity to go with her. 

Easy.

Just as she was about to finalize her approach, a familiar presence slid into the seat beside her. 

Fred.

He was as casual as ever, hair still slightly tousled from sleep, his tie half done like he couldn’t be bothered to fix it properly. He snatched up her half-full glass of orange juice, finishing it off with a satisfied sigh before turning to her with that lazy, infuriatingly confident smile.

"Are you preparing yourself for defeat?" he asked, setting the glass down with a soft clink. "I take my tea with extra milk, by the way, since you’ll be fetching it for me all next week."

Y/n rolled her eyes. "You’re awfully cocky for someone who hasn’t even secured a date yet."

Fred just grinned wider, leaning in slightly. "Neither have you."

She shot him a smirk, picking up a piece of toast as she stood from the table. "Give it ten minutes."

With that, she sauntered off, feeling Fred’s gaze follow her as she made her way toward the Hufflepuff table. 

Game on.

Daniel," y/n said, her voice sweet as honey as she shot the boy a dazzling smile.

He froze, mid-bite into his toast, eyes widening like a deer caught in wandlight.

This was going to be easy.

"I was wondering if you wanted to go to the ball with me?" she asked, tilting her head slightly, letting just the right amount of charm seep into her voice.

Daniel gulped, his fingers tightening around his fork. His eyes darted around the table, as if searching for an escape.

"I—uh, well—" His face turned an alarming shade of red, and he suddenly found great interest in the surface of the table.

Y/n frowned, confused by his hesitation. This was Daniel Scott. The same Daniel Scott who had stammered through at least three separate compliments about her hair just last week. The same Daniel Scott who could barely meet her eyes without turning pink. There was absolutely no reason he wouldn’t say yes.

Unless

Her stomach dropped as Daniel cleared his throat, his voice barely above a whisper. "I, um, I heard from—uh, someone that you—er—only asked me because you lost a bet."

Y/n blinked, her head jerking back slightly. "What?"

"I just—I mean, it’s fine if you did," Daniel rushed to say, still avoiding her gaze. "I just—Fred Weasley mentioned something about it before breakfast, and—uh—I just don’t want to be anyone’s backup plan."

Her entire body went still.

Fred.

That absolute menace.

Y/n clenched her jaw, inhaling deeply through her nose before forcing a tight-lipped smile. "I see. Well, thanks anyway, Daniel."

Before he could stammer out another apology, she turned on her heel and marched straight back to the Gryffindor table.

Fred was right where she left him, lounging in his seat like he hadn’t just completely sabotaged her. He was halfway through a piece of toast when he caught sight of her storming toward him.

"You," she hissed, planting her hands on the table as she loomed over him. "Sabotage? Really?"

Fred grinned, entirely unbothered as he leaned back. "Oh, come on, love. You didn’t seriously think I’d play fair, did you?"

She narrowed her eyes, fuming. "That was a dirty play, Weasley."

He shrugged. "It was never off the table."

Y/n exhaled sharply, crossing her arms as she reevaluated everything. Clearly, she had underestimated just how far Fred was willing to go to win this bet.

Fine. If that was how he wanted to play, she’d just have to get creative.

And she would win.

—

The Great Hall had been cleared of its usual long tables, the enchanted ceiling above a dull gray as a storm brewed outside. The Gryffindor students, fourth years and above, stood in two separate lines, girls on one side, boys on the other. The air buzzed with hushed conversations, a mix of excitement and dread hanging between them.

Professor McGonagall was saying something about lions and swans, but y/n wasn’t listening.

She was too busy plotting.

Fred’s little stunt with Daniel still had her seething, and if he thought she was just going to take the loss quietly, he had severely underestimated her.

Fred had made his move first, and now it was her turn.

She spotted him cutting across the floor toward Angelina, steps sure and confident. Oh, no. That wouldn’t do at all.

Without hesitation, she swooped in, looping her arms around him and settling his hands on her waist before he could protest.

Fred blinked in surprise before narrowing his eyes. "What are you doing?"

Y/n smiled up at him. "Playing the game."

His fingers twitched against her waist. "And what exactly is your next move?"

She shrugged, shifting slightly as the music picked up. "Haven’t decided yet. But I figured a little sabotage was in order."

Fred let out a huff, his lips quirking. "So, your grand retaliation is stealing me as a dance partner? That’s weak, y/l/n."

"Not stealing," she corrected smugly. "Intercepting."

He chuckled. "Ah, I see. Is that what you were doing with Daniel earlier? Intercepting?"

Her smile tightened as she shot him a glare. "Oh, you mean the boy you so graciously warned about my ulterior motives?"

Fred smirked. "Oh, did I do that? Hm. Must’ve slipped out."

"Sabotage wasn’t part of the deal, Weasley."

"Wasn’t excluded either."

Y/n exhaled sharply, shaking her head as they spun in time with the music. "You really don’t fight fair, do you?"

"Absolutely not," he admitted easily. "And neither should you, if you want to win."

Y/n hummed, as if considering. "Noted."

Fred tilted his head slightly. "So what’s next, then? Surely you didn’t just drag me away from Angelina to lecture me on fair play."

She smiled, slow and deliberate. "Wouldn’t you like to know?"

Fred eyed her, lips twitching. "Oh, I would."

They moved across the floor smoothly, the space between them filled with unspoken challenges. Y/n glanced at his tie, still barely holding itself together, as if he had done it in a hurry that morning. Typical.

With a smirk, she reached up, fingers deftly undoing the sloppy knot and tightening it properly.

Fred stilled slightly, brow furrowing. "What are you—"

"Fixing it," she muttered, patting his chest once satisfied. "Honestly, Fred, do you even try?"

"Not when I have someone to do it for me," he quipped, grinning.

Y/n rolled her eyes, stepping back as the music faded. "Enjoy the dance, Weasley. I’ve got work to do."

She turned on her heel and strode off, already formulating her next move.

Fred watched her go, adjusting the tie she had just fixed. He shook his head with a quiet chuckle, already anticipating whatever chaos she had planned next.

—-

Fred was feeling good about Amelia Roberts.

Smart, sharp-witted, and completely unaware of his ongoing war with y/n.

She was laughing at something he’d said, her blue eyes twinkling under the candlelight of the courtyard lanterns. Progress.

Fred leaned against the stone railing, flashing his signature smirk. "So, what do you say, Roberts? Yule Ball with me? Best decision you’ll make all year."

Amelia smiled, tilting her head in consideration.

And then

Two warm arms wrapped around his waist from behind.

Fred stiffened.

"Oh, there you are, sweetheart!"

His stomach dropped.

No.

Absolutely not.

Y/n practically melted into his side, resting her head against his shoulder with the ease of someone who had done this a thousand times before.

Fred didn’t even have time to react before she turned her sweetest, most innocent smile toward Amelia.

"Oh, Amelia!" y/n gushed, gripping Fred’s arm like he was the love of her life. "I love that you and Freddie are such good friends! Ever since we started secretly dating, I was so worried that people would suspect, but you—" she clasped a hand over her heart, voice dripping with sincerity, "you have been so supportive!"

Fred choked. "What—NO—"

Amelia’s entire expression changed in an instant.

Her smile vanished, replaced with suspicion. "Secretly dating?"

Fred tried to pull away from y/n, but she only tightened her grip, shooting him a warning glance that said if you move, I will make this worse.

Her head tilted slightly as she turned to him, eyes suddenly filled with mock devastation.

"Freddie," she whispered, voice breaking just a little. "Are you ashamed of us?"

Fred froze.

Oh.

Oh, this was bad.

He looked back at Amelia, who now had her arms firmly crossed, her gaze icy.

"No," Fred said quickly, "no, I am absolutely NOT dating her—"

"Freddie!" y/n gasped, turning every single pair of eyes in the courtyard onto them. "I cannot believe you would deny me like this! After all we’ve been through?"

Fred was actually speechless. His mouth opened, then closed, then opened again—but nothing came out.

Y/n sighed dramatically, looking to Amelia as if she were the only one who could understand her pain.

"You have to forgive him," y/n said solemnly. "It’s just… so difficult for him. The constant attention, the pressure of keeping this a secret… He wanted to tell people" she sniffled, "really, he did"

"Yeah, I don’t do cheaters," Amelia muttered, already stepping away.

Fred’s entire body jerked forward in panic. "Wait—no, I—"

But Amelia had already turned on her heel and walked away.

Fred stood there, still partially trapped in y/n’s grasp, his brain short-circuiting from what had just happened.

Slowly, his head turned toward her.

Y/n beamed up at him, looking immensely pleased with herself.

She patted his shoulder, smiling sweetly. "Oops."

Fred exhaled deeply. "I hate you."

"No, you don’t," y/n said, sing-songing as she walked away.

Fred groaned, slumping against the railing.

He needed a new plan. Immediately.

—

Y/n had spent the entire morning planning her approach. She’d decided that Thomas Greaves, a quiet but friendly Ravenclaw, would be her best shot. He wasn’t the type to make a huge fuss, and she figured she had a pretty solid chance at getting a yes.

She spotted him just outside the Great Hall, standing near the entrance, looking over a rolled-up parchment, probably last-minute homework. Perfect.

Straightening her tie and putting on her most charming smile, she strode toward him with confidence.

"Hey, Thomas!" she greeted brightly, tucking her hands behind her back as she rocked on her heels. "Got a second?"

Thomas looked up, blinking behind his glasses. "Oh—uh, yeah. What’s up?"

Y/n grinned, already sensing victory. "So, I was wondering if you’d like to go to the Yule Ball with me?"

Before Thomas could even process what she was saying, a familiar arm slung itself over his shoulder.

"Oi, Tommy boy!"

Y/n’s stomach dropped.

Fred.

Of course it was Fred.

"Mate, I haven’t seen you all morning," Fred said, giving Thomas a heavy pat on the back, his voice dripping with fake concern. "Are you feeling alright?"

Thomas frowned. "Uh—yeah? I think so?"

Fred gasped, clutching his chest dramatically. "Oh, thank Merlin! When I heard about your—" he dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, "condition, I thought you’d still be in the hospital wing!"

Y/n narrowed her eyes. "Fred, don’t you have somewhere else to be?"

Fred ignored her, turning back to Thomas with a solemn nod. "Bravest bloke I know," he said. "I mean, most people wouldn’t even show their face after spotted wandrot."

Thomas froze. "Spotted what?"

Fred sighed, shaking his head sadly. "Oh, mate, no need to be embarrassed. Madam Pomfrey said she’d never seen a case spread so quickly. And to think, you’re walking around like nothing happened." He wiped an imaginary tear from his eye. "Inspiring, really."

Y/n clenched her jaw. "Fred—"

"Though, of course," Fred continued thoughtfully, stroking his chin, "it is highly contagious. Wouldn’t want to pass that on, right?"

Thomas visibly paled.

"Wait—what? I—I don’t have—"

Fred gasped. "Oh no! Did Pomfrey not tell you? I thought she was supposed to give you the full debrief." He turned to y/n, shaking his head. "You’d think they’d at least warn the poor guy before sending him off to infect the whole school."

Thomas took a full step away from both of them, his expression stricken. "I—I have to go—"

Before y/n could stop him, Thomas bolted into the Great Hall like a man fleeing for his life.

She stood there in stunned silence, processing what had just happened.

Then she turned, eyes blazing, to Fred, who stood beside her looking utterly pleased with himself.

"You," she seethed. "Are the worst."

Fred smirked, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "Better luck next time, love."

And with that, he sauntered off, whistling a cheerful tune, leaving y/n fuming on the steps of the Great Hall.

–

Fred had been extra careful this time. He had barely spoken about his next move to anyone, not even George, not even Lee. He was playing this one quietly, which, for him, was practically impossible.

But he wasn’t about to let y/n get the better of him again.

That’s why he’d chosen Lily Carter, a friendly and straightforward ravenclaw who, as far as he could tell, had zero history with y/n and no reason to get caught in the crossfire.

It was the perfect setup.

They sat next to each other in Charms, and just as Flitwick turned his back to demonstrate a wand movement, Fred pulled out a small slip of parchment and wrote, in his best and least-sarcastic handwriting:

Oi, Lily, fancy going to the Ball with me?

He folded the note quickly and, with the smoothest flick of his fingers, slid it onto her desk. He kept his eyes trained on his own parchment, waiting, listening.

A pause.

Then a faint rustling as Lily unfolded it.

Fred smirked. This was too easy.

Until—

"Uh… Fred?" Lily whispered, leaning slightly toward him. "Why did you hand me a blank piece of parchment?"

Fred blinked.

He turned his head, looking down at the note in Lily’s hands.

It was completely empty.

Not a single word.

No ink. No invitation.

Nothing.

Fred sat up straighter, now fully awake. "That’s not—" He grabbed his quill, tested it on his own parchment, yep, worked perfectly fine, then squinted at the blank slip. "I—I wrote something, I swear."

Lily gave him a bemused look. "Right. Well, I appreciate the effort, I guess?"

Fred’s brain was scrambling. This wasn’t possible.

Unless—

Oh, for Merlin’s sake.

Slowly, he turned in his seat, craning his neck toward the back of the classroom.

Sure enough, y/n was there, leaning casually on her elbow, watching him with a very self-satisfied smirk.

She lifted her wand slightly, giving it the tiniest twirl.

Fred groaned.

"Y/L/N," he whispered, barely keeping himself from laughing.

Y/n raised an eyebrow as if she had no idea what he was talking about.

Fred turned back around, taking a deep breath.

—

Y/n had planned this perfectly.

She had finally found someone Fred hadn’t gotten to yet, James Dunmore, a charming and easygoing Hufflepuff who was known for being friendly with just about everyone. He was the type who wouldn’t be put off by rumors or sabotage, which made him the perfect candidate.

It was foolproof.

She caught him outside the Herbology greenhouses between classes, brushing a stray leaf off his robes. "Hey, James," she greeted casually.

He grinned. "Hey, y/n. What’s up?"

She exhaled slightly, steeling herself. "So, I was wondering—"

But just as she was about to ask him, the doors of the castle slammed open.

A chorus of heavily off-key voices rang out across the courtyard.

Y/n froze.

Students turned in confusion as four overly enthusiastic first-years in matching pink suits came marching toward her, led by none other than Lee Jordan.

"FRED WEASLEY SENT US TO DELIVER A MESSAGE OF TRUE LOVE!" Lee bellowed.

James took a slow step backward.

Y/n clenched her fists.

Lee gave an exaggerated wave. "Hit it, lads!"

The first-years immediately burst into song:

"Oh, y/n, my darling true," "Your beauty shines, your wit cuts through," "Fred Weasley dreams of you all day," "So please don’t turn and run away!"

Y/n covered her face with her hands.

James looked deeply uncomfortable. "Uh—"

Fred, watching from the entrance, leaned casually against the doorway, arms crossed, smirking like he had just orchestrated the greatest act of war in history.

The first-years weren’t done:

"The Yule Ball’s coming, don’t you see?" "So say yes, my love, and dance with me!" "Fred is waiting, don't delay—" "Or he’ll cry himself away!"

The entire courtyard was now watching.

James chuckled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Uh, y/n, this—this seems like a lot. Maybe I’ll just—" He gestured vaguely before retreating into the greenhouses at top speed.

Y/n slowly turned on her heel, rage simmering.

Fred grinned at her from across the courtyard.

"Sabotage is such an ugly word," he said smugly. "I prefer to think of this as… performance art."

Y/n narrowed her eyes.

This wasn’t over.

—

Fred was getting too close to winning.

Y/n had already lost three potential dates thanks to his sabotage, and she refused to let him have the last laugh. So, she pulled out her own bag of tricks.

She waited until dinner, when Fred was at his most comfortable, laughing loudly at something George had said while stuffing his face with mashed potatoes.

Perfect.

Sliding into the seat across from him, she leaned in, her tone light and casual. "Hey, Freddie. Have a drink, yeah?"

She pushed a goblet toward him, freshly poured pumpkin juice.

Fred raised an eyebrow. "Awfully nice of you, y/l/n," he mused. "You wouldn’t happen to be poisoning me, would you?"

Y/n rolled her eyes. "You think way too highly of yourself. Drink."

Fred smirked, not one to turn down a freebie, and took a long sip.

Y/n fought to keep her face neutral.

The effects were instantaneous.

Fred blinked once. Then twice. His smirk faltered.

"Y/n," he said slowly. "Why does my mouth feel weird?"

"Oh, no reason," she said, beaming.

George snorted. "What did you do?"

Fred sat up straighter, his hands gripping the table as if he were trying to physically hold back his next words. His expression shifted from suspicion to horror as his mouth opened against his will.

"I KISSED A MIRROR ONCE TO SEE IF I WAS A GOOD KISSER," he shouted.

The entire Gryffindor table went silent.

Fred clamped his hands over his mouth, eyes wild.

Y/n grinned. "Oh, did I forget to mention? That was a Truth Potion."

Fred shook his head violently. "No. Nope. Not happening."

His hands dropped from his face, and suddenly—

"I USED TO HAVE A NIGHTMARE WHERE PROFESSOR MCGONAGALL WAS A GIANT CAT AND CHASED ME AROUND THE CASTLE."

George fell off the bench.

Fred turned to y/n, betrayed. "THIS IS EVIL."

She rested her chin on her palm, enjoying the spectacle. "You started this war, Weasley. Now, tell me, who’s your next target for the Yule Ball?"

Fred tried to fight it, he really did. His entire body tensed, his lips trembled—

"I WAS GOING TO ASK LUCY AINSLEY AFTER DINNER!"

Lucy Ainsley, sitting two seats away, immediately stood up and walked out of the Great Hall.

Fred groaned. "Oh, come on!"

Y/n popped a grape into her mouth, looking very pleased. "Well. Guess you’ll have to try again tomorrow."

Fred glared at her. "I will get you back for this."

Y/n winked. "Looking forward to it, mirror kisser."

—

Y/n was dangerously close to winning the bet.

She had dodged Fred’s last few sabotage attempts, and now she had one final shot, Clarke Roswell, a smart and charming Ravenclaw who had always been friendly toward her. He wasn’t the type to get easily spooked, and Fred hadn’t had time to get to him first.

At least, that’s what she thought.

She found Clarke in the library after dinner, sitting at one of the quieter tables near the windows, scribbling notes on a long parchment. Taking a deep breath, she sat down across from him, flashing her most confident smile.

"Hey, Clarke," she said smoothly.

He looked up, smiling back. "Hey, y/n. What’s up?"

"Well, I was wondering—"

And suddenly, her mouth wouldn’t stop moving.

"WELL, CLARKE, I WAS WONDERING IF YOU WANTED TO GO TO THE YULE BALL WITH ME BUT ALSO I USED TO SLEEP WITH A STUFFED HIPPGRIFF UNTIL THIRD YEAR AND SOMETIMES I STILL DO BUT THAT’S NOT THE POINT—"

Y/n slapped a hand over her mouth, horrified.

Clarke blinked. "...What?"

Her eyes widened in terror as she realised she couldn’t stop talking.

"SORRY I THINK I’VE BEEN HEXED BUT I TOTALLY THINK YOU’RE HANDSOME AND THAT ONE TIME IN POTIONS YOU ROLLED UP YOUR SLEEVES I GOT DISTRACTED AND SPILLED MY INGREDIENTS EVERYWHERE AND PROFESSOR SNAPE GAVE ME DETENTION FOR IT—"

Clarke looked deeply alarmed. "Uh—"

"WAIT NO DON’T LEAVE, I SWEAR I’M NOT A WEIRDO, I JUST THINK YOU HAVE NICE HANDS AND I ALSO ONCE CRIED BECAUSE I DROPPED A SLICE OF PUMPKIN PASTRY ON THE FLOOR AND I STILL THINK ABOUT IT SOMETIMES—"

Clarke was already backing away, his chair screeching against the floor as he practically ran out of the library.

Y/n slammed her forehead onto the table, mortified.

A slow, mocking clap echoed from behind her.

She knew who it was before she even turned around.

Fred Weasley leaned against a bookshelf, arms crossed, looking immensely pleased with himself.

"You know," he mused, "I was really hoping you’d start babbling about me, but that was almost just as good."

Y/n lifted her head just enough to glare at him. "You did this?"

Fred smirked, pulling out his wand and twirling it between his fingers. "A little Babbling Curse, just to make things interesting."

"I hate you," she hissed.

Fred grinned. "Nah, you love me. You said so, right before you mentioned that stuffed Hippogriff of yours,"

Y/n grabbed the nearest book and hurled it at his head.

Fred dodged it with ease, laughing as he ran out of the library, while y/n seethed, already plotting her next move.

—

Fred Weasley was in trouble.

It hit him like a rogue Bludger to the chest as he sat at the Gryffindor table, idly pushing peas around his plate. The Great Hall was filled with buzzing conversations, excited chatter about dress robes, last-minute dates, and who was going with whom.

And then, in a single horrifying moment, he realised.

The Yule Ball was two days away.

And he had no date.

His fork clattered against his plate as his brain kicked into overdrive.

He had spent so much time sabotaging y/n that he had completely forgotten to actually secure a date of his own. He quickly ran through his mental list of possible options.

Amelia Roberts? Gave him a withering glare every time they crossed paths after the “secret relationship” stunt.

Fiona Hayes? Still recovering from the boggart catastrophe and actively avoiding him in the hallways.

Sophia Benson? Thought he was in love with Lee Jordan, so that was a firm no.

Lucy Ainsley? Walked out of the Great Hall after his Truth Potion confession and hadn’t spoken to him since.

Clara Whitmore? Witnessed the public marriage proposal and didn’t want to be anywhere near that mess.

Fred groaned, rubbing his hands down his face. He was officially out of options.

But then

His hands froze.

His mind came to a screeching halt.

There was still one person who was available.

Y/n.

He let the thought settle, blinking rapidly.

Technically… technically, she counted.

She was still open. He was still open.

And after everything they had done to ruin each other’s chances? It was almost poetic.

His lips curled into a slow smirk.

Oh, this was going to be fun.

He pushed his plate aside, standing abruptly. George, mid-bite into a chicken leg, raised an eyebrow. "Where are you off to?"

Fred cracked his knuckles, stretching his arms before rolling his shoulders back. "I’ve got business to handle."

George snorted. "That sounds fake, but alright."

—

Y/n was pacing.

She had spent so much time playing defense against Fred that she had completely neglected to actually secure a date for herself. And now, with only two days until the Yule Ball, she was faced with a horrifying truth:

She had no options left.

Leaning against the stone railing of the Grand Staircase, she furiously ran through every possibility.

Thomas Greaves? Avoided her like she carried a deadly curse.

Noah Bell? Would rather transfer schools than interact with her again.

Liam Fletcher? No. Just—no.

Clarke Roswell? Likely in hiding.

James Dunnmore? Won’t even look at her anymore.

Her stomach twisted.

She was completely out of options.

And then, like a lightning strike, it hit her.

Fred.

Her head snapped up.

Fred was still available.

Technically, he counted.

And after everything they had done to ruin each other’s chances? It was almost fitting.

The second she had the thought, she took off down the corridor, pushing past a few startled second-years.

She had to find him.

She sped through the Grand Staircase, dodging a confused first-year, nearly tripping over a moving step.

Where the hell is he?

This was Fred Weasley, he was always around, always loud, always in the way.

But now, when she needed to find him? Now, when it actually mattered?

Gone.

She gritted her teeth, rounding a sharp corner.

He was moving too fast.

His mind was whirling, his options were gone, he was out of time, and his only way out of this mess was y/n.

It was almost poetic.

Almost.

If he had time to dwell on it, he might have thought about how ridiculous it was that they had wasted weeks sabotaging each other, only to end up in the exact same situation.

But he didn’t have time.

Because he was running, and the second he turned the next corner—

CRASH.

It was instant.

One second, they were both charging full speed ahead.

The next

A solid impact, a tangle of limbs, a sharp oof as they collided full-force into each other.

Y/n stumbled back, slamming into the stone wall, hands gripping Fred’s arms to steady herself.

Fred nearly lost his balance, one hand bracing against the wall beside her head to keep from toppling over.

For a moment, neither of them moved.

They were close. Too close.

The impact had sent her stumbling back against the cold stone wall, and Fred, ever so slightly off balance, had caught himself by bracing a hand against the wall right next to her head.

She blinked.

He blinked.

Neither of them moved.

For a long, stretched-out second, the only sound was the distant chatter of students in the corridors, the faint flicker of torchlight casting warm shadows along Fred’s face.

Y/n swallowed. "You ran into me."

Fred exhaled sharply, amused. "I think you’ll find that you ran into me."

She raised an eyebrow. "You were the one running full speed down the hall like a lunatic—"

"You were also running full speed down the hall," he shot back, a slow smirk curling onto his lips. "Where were you headed, anyway?"

Y/n huffed, finally shifting out of his almost-trapped position. "To find you."

Fred blinked. "Oh."

A beat of silence.

Then, realisation flickered across his face.

"You were coming to—"

"You were also coming to—"

They both froze.

Understanding settled between them.

Fred let out a deep groan, rubbing a hand down his face. "Oh, for Merlin’s sake—"

Y/n snorted, crossing her arms. "I hate this."

"I hate this more," Fred muttered.

A charged silence hung between them.

Y/n cleared her throat. "So."

Fred glanced at her, arms still crossed over his chest. "So."

Her fingers drummed against her sleeve. "I suppose there’s really no way around it, then?"

Fred sighed dramatically, as if the very idea of what he was about to say pained him. "Unfortunately, I don’t think so."

She smirked. "Wow. You sound thrilled."

"Oh, absolutely. Overjoyed."

Another silence. This time, it wasn’t quite as combative.

Fred exhaled, tilting his head slightly, studying her. "You know…" he said, more thoughtful this time, "as much as I hate losing, and as much as I hate you thinking you won—"

Y/n grinned. "So much hate in that sentence, Weasley. Sure you don’t have something else to say?"

Fred ignored her. "I don’t think going to the Ball with you will be that bad."

Y/n raised an eyebrow, tilting her chin up slightly. "That bad?"

Fred gave her a slow, lazy smile. "Well. There’s always a chance I might enjoy myself."

Y/n huffed a laugh, shaking her head. "Don’t get your hopes up, Weasley."

"Oh, my hopes are very low, don’t worry."

A pause.

Then, Fred stuck out his hand, looking almost reluctant but also… maybe something else.

Y/n eyed him, amused. "What is this?"

"A truce," he said, though his lips twitched like he was holding back another smirk.

She considered, tapping a finger against her chin like she was actually debating it.

Then, slowly, she took his hand, shaking it once.

The moment stretched just a bit longer than it needed to.

Her palm was warm against his.

Neither of them let go right away.

Y/n arched an eyebrow. "What? Are we having a moment?"

Fred let out a loud groan, instantly pulling his hand back. "Absolutely not—"

"Sounded like a moment to me"

Fred scowled, but his ears were definitely pink. "See you at the Ball, y/l/n."

Y/n smirked, turning to walk away.

"You better dress nicely, Weasley," she called over her shoulder. "Wouldn’t want people thinking I’m dating a total disaster."

Fred scoffed. "Well, lucky for you"

He hesitated.

Y/n slowed, glancing back. "Lucky for me…?"

Fred rolled his shoulders, smirking again, but softer this time.

"Lucky for you, I look good in anything."

a/n: i hope you guys enjoyed. i am having some serious writers block at the moment im so upset :(

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

Part 3: Why Is It A Big Deal?

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Dean Winchester xf!reader

POV: Dean POV, Reader POV, Soldier Boy/Ben POV

Summary: Dean's in for a rude awakening when he finds out exactly what you did when you got stranded in another universe.

Tropes: Fluff, Frenemies (Dean and the Reader), Enemies to Lovers, Awkward Situation, Multiverse Problems, ANGST, Crossover

Word Count: 12.4K (I PROMISE I DIDN'T MEAN TO)

Listen While You Read: Treat You Better By Shawn Mendes

Warnings: I'm gonna label this 18+ just to be sure. There is some swearing, Making Out, Sexual Innuendo, References to Sex, Jealousy, A little homophobia (it’s Soldier Boy), Feelings, Angst, Self Deprecating Thoughts? References to Past Sex (it happens quite a bit). Soldier Boy Being Soldier Boy (Everyone knows he’s a warning). Dean Winchester Being Dean Winchester.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is no use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person

A/N: It's finally here! I have loved the return to this universe more than words can describe. Each of the POV's are crazy in their own way. And again, don't forget to read the fic "Stranded" by @justagirlinafandomworld that inspired me to write this series in the first place! ENJOY!

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

Dean POV

Dean leaned back on his bed at the bunker and jammed the pillow further down around his ears over his headphones. He was listening to a mixtape that he had burned forever ago, chosen because it had the loudest drum solos blaring through his Walkman. However, it wasn't enough to block out the sounds that were coming from your bedroom or the subtle knocking of your headboard against the metal wall between his and your room that grew louder and louder every passing minute.

Dean had tried his best to get Sam on his side when he proposed the idea that Ben didn't have to come back to the bunker and instead should be sent be sent back to wherever the hell he came from right then and there, but Cas was still out doing whatever it was he was doing, which meant that Ben was going to stick around for a little longer.

And it meant that Ben was finally getting his wish… you.

Dean's teeth gritted together when he heard another moan over the sound of the cymbals and felt a white hot spike of something in the pit of his stomach burn through his body.

When you'd agreed to move to the bunker Dean had insisted you live in the bedroom next to his. It meant that if there was a problem in the middle of the night, Dean would be the first to hear you scream and the first to protect you. But other than the time you stubbed your toe and Dean kicked down the door when he heard you yell with his gun drawn, there hadn't been an emergent situation that required his help.

Right now he was regretting the decision to have you live next door wholeheartedly, because it meant that he was having a front row seat to everything Ben and you were doing in your bedroom.

Dean sighed, his eyes squeezed shut, as he tried not to imagine what was happening, but he kept having flashes skate across his mind. He didn't want to see what it looked like or sounded like to have Ben's name tumbling from your lips, all Dean wanted was to hear you say his name like that and to be the one making you fall apart beneath him.

Not some asshole from another universe.

The image of you laying under him back at the school came back to him in a wave, pushing away the revulsion momentarily. He remembered how soft you felt under him, how you clung to his body as if he was the only thing grounding you to earth, how natural it felt to be there protecting you, how you sighed when he pushed your hair back from your face, and how all the soft parts of you seemed to fit perfectly against all of the hardened muscles of him.

He hadn't even made love to you and you laying there on top of you felt more intimate than any experience he'd had in his life. Dean wanted to exist in that moment with you a little longer, to savor those last few seconds of you staring up at him as if he was the only person in the world.

The memory of Ben kissing you after followed. Dean remembered the way Ben's lips roughly took from you and the way he held on to your face and it snapped Dean out of it. It hurt him more that you let Ben kiss you after Dean had been the one to save you.

Fuck.

His teeth gritted hard together so tight that he heard them grind. He hated watching you with Ben, hated watching Ben do the one thing that Dean had wanted to do for years. And Dean also hated the way that Ben treated you, as if you were something to be possessed and showed off, as if you weren't smart or anything more than just beautiful.

Dean had known from the first moment he saw you in Ellen's bar years ago that you were the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen in his entire life. You were funny, kind, sarcastic, and had a hard edge that you'd developed after years of being a hunter, but there was something else, a softer side of you that you didn't let everyone see, something hidden beneath it all that you only allowed yourself to have whenever Sam was around, but never with Dean.

It made him hate his brother a little bit, seeing how effortlessly the two of you had developed a friendship, while Dean had to practically Heimlich you to talk to him.

Dean wanted to see that side of you so badly. He wanted you to smile at him the soft way you smiled at Sam, and wanted you to laugh at his jokes or tease him playfully about his hair or about what he was wearing that day the way he'd seen you with his brother.

He tried to find reasons to be in the same room as you, drifting to sit nearby while you read or watched a movie. You always seemed different then. Your body was relaxed, open, with just a hint of a smile curving on the edge of your lips that made Dean want to stare at you for the rest of his life.

He tried to make you laugh whenever he could and tried his best to impress you, but each time he did you'd only roll your eyes and make a sarcastic comment. You didn't like him, Dean knew that, but he wished you did.

Sure he was maybe a little harsh on you sometimes, but Dean didn't want anything to happen to you, he was trying to protect you, because he knew the moment he stopped caring so much would be the moment he lost you.

He'd lost so many things in his life and he knew that he couldn't lose you, not without losing a piece of himself.

He hadn't felt like this about anyone else ever, and he didn't know what to do with his feelings. Bottling them up only seemed to hurt him more, but whenever something happened on a hunt or you tried to split away from him and Sam, he panicked and said things that he shouldn't instead of the three little words that he'd been wanting to say to you for years.

That's what happened a few weeks ago on a hunt, when you went into a house alone and faced a poltergeist that threw you across the room and into a glass cabinet. Dean had stood there yelling at you trying to tell you how stupid it had been for you to go in alone, while biting back what he really wanted to say- that he couldn't lose you. He couldn't lose you because looking at you was like watching the fireflies along a misty road at dusk, each one lighting a path in the darkness that showed him the way.

Yes he was angry, but all Dean saw was the bloody ripped sleeve of your shirt, and the way your face had contorted in pain when Sam picked you up and helped you back to the car. It made Dean feel like someone had ripped at his insides with a pickaxe seeing you hurt and listening to the whimper of pain that passed through your lips. He knew that he went too far when you broke his nose, but damnit, Dean just wanted you to be safe! And you never listened to what he told you because you were just so damn stubborn and always got on Dean's last nerve.

The truth was he hated that this was your life, hated that you were a hunter and each day you put yourself in danger, because he believed you deserved more. You deserved a normal life with someone who loved you, maybe a few kids, a dog, and a life far from the world that Dean and you knew so well.

Of course the thought of you with anyone else made Dean want to put his fist through a wall. The problem was even though Dean wanted you, he believed that you deserved better than him. You deserved the white picket fence and suburbia, not a darkened bunker underground with a man who wasn't sure he still had anything good left.

It was the reason why he didn't want to tell you how he felt, that, and Dean believed you absolutely hated him and hated being around him in the first place. It's why he buried it beneath the surface for so long.

However, when he was looking at you Dean often forgot the things that happened to him. You made him want to keep getting back up to fight if not for anyone else, for you.

But then Ben had shown up.

When you'd gotten dragged to another universe, Dean had tried everything in his power to get you back. He'd screamed and prayed for Cas so loud and so many times he went hoarse, he'd looked through almost every book he knew of to find the spell to bring you back to no avail, tried several rituals that promised results but gave him nothing, looked at his computer screen for so long that it made him cross-eyed, and drank coffee so strong it made his heart race.

But all Dean knew was that you were somewhere else alone, where he couldn't get to you or protect you, and it made him sick. He hated the thought of you alone trying to fight your way to survival in a place like the Endverse. When Cas finally came five days later and helped Dean bring you back, Dean had been so happy to see you that he'd almost hugged you, but instead he'd made an off-brand joke and you'd run into Sam's arms for a hug that made his chest tight.

Dean thought that he was having a nightmare when he saw Ben, a man who looked so much like himself, stride into the motel room confidently and kiss you. Dean was waiting for you to push him away, to tell him to fuck off, but you didn't, you liked it. And judging by the sounds Dean was hearing through the wall he could see that you wanted Ben.

All it did was piss Dean off that another version of himself got to have you and he didn't. Not when he'd known you longer and you'd only known Ben for five days.

Five fucking days. She's known that asshole for five days and she likes him. She's known you for years and she can't even stand to be in the same room with you.

The thought made Dean's heart clench in his chest. He didn't understand what Ben had that he didn’t have, he was him after all as Dean kept saying over and over to you. But Dean knew that deep down the real thing he was telling you over and over was not that Ben was him, but rather was asking the question: "why not me?"

Does she really hate me that much that she can't stand the thought of being with me? That she can stand to be with someone who looks exactly like me, but can't stay in a room with me for more than ten seconds?

Dean gets out of bed, stomps out the door, and down the hallway towards the library to try and escape the sounds coming from your room. They vibrate down the hall after him, like a flock of seagulls, mocking him all the way and doing little to ease the anger and jealousy swirling beneath his skin.

Sam is sitting in a chair with a large volume in front of him and a piece of notebook paper scribbling furiously when Dean enters the library, but he doesn't appear surprised to see his brother.

"That better be a way for use to get rid of the walking Trojan ad." Dean huffs, throwing himself into the chair across from his brother.

Please let them be using protection. The last thing I want is to be stuck here to raise super baby. I had enough problems with Jack.

Sam gives him a sympathetic look, and pushes his long hair back behind his ears. "Sorry. I'm researching a case in Kentucky, but Cas said that he'd be back in a few hours-"

"He said that ages ago! I want that asshole gone now." Dean's hand tightens on the arm of the chair, so tight that his knuckles are white.  He was happy that the library seemed to be far enough away from your room to escape the noise, but he knew it was happening, which didn’t help at all. "I don’t understand what she sees in that dick."

Sam hesitates for a moment, tapping his pen against the notebook paper.

"Just spit it out Sammy." Dean sighs.

"He might be an asshole to you, but not to her." He replies simply.

"What the fuck does that mean?"

"Well you're kinda…" Sam shrugs and leans back into his chair trying to find the words.

"I'm kinda what?"

"You’re kinda a dick to her." He finishes. "She's getting fed up with it. The other day she told me that she's been thinking about moving out and going back on her own. I've been trying to talk her out of it-"

Dean's blood ran cold. He hated the thought of you leaving again, it meant that he wouldn't know where you were or if you were alive and he wouldn't be able to make sure you were prepared for a hunt or at least be there to have your back if something went wrong- because let's face it, something always went wrong. "What? What the hell are you taking about?! Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because she hasn't made up her mind."

"But why?"

"Because ever since the first time we’ve been going on hunts with her, you’ve been rude and-"

Dean interrupts his brother with a shout. "What? Do you expect me to hold her fucking hand? We’ve seen experienced hunters get killed out there with one simple mistake! And she’s just some amateur-"

"Dean, she's not an amateur." Sam sighs as if he can't understand why Dean was being so difficult.

He was. Sam was used to it whenever the subject of you came up in front of Dean, but honestly his brother's stubborn attitude when it came to you was annoying him.

"She is!" Dean snaps back wishing that he had a beer.

"No, she’s not." Sam shakes his head. "She’s been doing this just as long as we have. You know who her mom was and you know that her mom was just as hard on her as our dad was on you-"

At the mention of their father, Dean can feel his jaw tighten, memories flashing across his mind that he wanted to forget. The cold feeling of disapproval begins to creep up his spine to his shoulders, but Dean shakes it off. "That doesn’t matter."

"I think it does."

"What does that mean?"

"Well, Dean you keep saying that he’s you, but I'm starting to think that she's you."

"You need to stop using all those hair products Sammy, they're messing with your head-" Dean scoffs.

"Just listen to me for a minute." Sam points at him with the pen. "She might be stubborn and sarcastic on the outside, but she's not callous or emotionless. She hides what she's feeling deep down, just like you do. And I think that she likes Ben because he doesn't hurt her and he makes her feel wanted."

But I do want her.

The thought rises before Dean could stop it and he wonders if you'd spent all these years thinking that he didn't want you around when it was all he thought about. Every decision he made was to try and protect you, to put you first, and the thought that you didn't see that hurt him.

"I'd never hurt her-" Dean's voice comes out a little softer and more broken than he meant it to, catching slightly on the words.

Sam shakes his head. "Not physically. But the two of you have been doing this for years and I think that she's sick of you treating her the way you do and then she met Ben. She met another version of you who appreciates her. I know that you’re a little jealous-"

"I am not jealous!" Dean says on instinct, but Sam knows the truth, he's always known the truth, and Dean knows it too.

Sam rolls his eyes at his brother. "You should talk to her. Take Ben out of it and talk to her the way you talk to other people."

"I talk to her like I talk to other people." Dean grumbles as he gets up out of his chair intent on going to the kitchen to get a beer or something stronger to take the edge off.

"No you don't. So go talk to her." Sam waves a hand in Dean's direction before his gaze drops back down to the book.

"She's kinda preoccupied." Dean mutters under his breath and the image of you and Ben tangled up in your bed makes him flinch.

Sam looks up at his brother again, sympathy flashing in his eyes. "Dean-"

"Just leave me alone Sammy."

And with that he turns and makes his way towards the kitchen, hoping that he won't be able to hear Ben and you, and wishing that you hadn't met Ben in the first place.

Reader POV

Ben mutters something in his sleep, rolling his body towards yours so close that his muscular right arm brushes against your bare shoulder. He was laying on his stomach, his face pressed into one of your many pillows, snoring softly, and taking up most of your bed.

It wasn't hard to. The full sized bed was hardly big enough for you, let alone two people, especially not someone as tall and broad as Ben. Which became more obvious when you noticed that Ben's feet were hanging off the end.

You sigh, laying on your back and staring up at the cracks in your ceiling, unable to fall asleep. You followed each one with your eyes, tracing the shapes they made like someone watching the clouds on a hill bathed in sunlight. You'd thought that after everything Ben and you did for the past two hours you'd be able to fall asleep as easily as he did, but you couldn't because your mind was awake and roaming everywhere it could.

It wasn't that you hadn't had a good time with Ben or hadn't wanted to have sex with him. Ben didn't force you into anything. You wanted to have sex with him. You had missed him and it had been a while for you, and you liked Ben. The problem was that now, after, there was an odd feeling stirring in the pit of your stomach, something that felt surprisingly like guilt.

I have nothing to be guilty about.

You chide yourself, hands curling and uncurling on the edge of the blanket the longer you stared up at the ceiling. But it was still there, bubbling up beneath the surface. Your mind kept slipping back into the memory of Dean and you in the broken auditorium.

Each time you closed your eyes you were back in Dean's arms, looking up at him while he pushed your hair out of your face and asked you if you were alright, his eyes filled with something that looked suspiciously like worry. He'd never acted gentle or caring like that before with you and you still felt odd from everything that happened.

Fuck. What is happening to me? I just spent the last two hours with Ben, I shouldn’t be thinking about anyone else but-

You sigh again and shut your eyes, but it just brings the image back to haunt you.

You hadn't had any thoughts like this about Dean, not ever, and you didn't know why now. You'd spent years thinking that he was a big jerk who hated you, but the Dean you saw earlier today was far from that.

In the past, Dean had your back a few times, but it hadn't been like earlier. He'd never held you close, covered you with his body as if he didn't care what happened to himself as long as you were safe, and he'd never brushed your hair away with such tenderness it made your heart flutter in your chest.

No. Dean has been a total dick from the moment I met him, he hates me, he-

The thought stutters to a stop when the hurt and jealousy in Dean's eyes when you kissed Ben comes flashing back through your mind.

Does he? Or did I just interpret that wrong? Maybe it was just the hatred he had towards Ben flaring but… why does he hate Ben? He has no reason to.

But despite everything that Dean had done to you over the years, you didn't hate him.

Even though he tap danced on your last nerve whenever he opened his mouth and often made you feel stupid you couldn't, not when you saw the way he cared so much for other people. Dean Winchester was selfless, he always put other people first and was willing to sacrifice himself if it meant someone else got to be happy and got to live.

You glance at the man lying in the bed next to you. Ben was handsome and strong. He possessed some of the qualities of Dean that you found attractive, but he treated you differently. It was what drew you to him when you got trapped in Ben's reality, not just that he looked like Dean, but that Ben joked with you, teased you, and he seemed to generally care about you.

Dean didn't act that way with you. At least, you'd never seen Dean act that way before today. Today was different than any other day and you wished that it hadn't been.

Ben mutters something else, and this time he leans more towards you, his arm coming up around your waist to hold you against his side. The warmth and weight of it was familiar, but it made the feeling of guilt grow larger in your stomach.

Why is this happening? I didn’t feel guilty the last time I had sex with him.

Your eyes trace the way his dark hair has fallen into his face and over the pillow, and you reach up to push some of the strands back from his face. But with it comes the ghost of how you wanted to do the same thing to Dean earlier, that your fingertips had itched to feel his brownish golden hair in your hands.

Before he'd drifted off Ben had asked you to come with him when Cas sent him back to where he was from, said that he wanted you there with him. You had an inkling that it was the first time that Ben had asked something so serious from a woman. But you weren't convinced that it was because Ben wanted to have a relationship, rather that he didn't want to be alone.

You'd be lying if you said you weren't considering it. Ben was kinder to you, gentle (in his own way), and he seemed to appreciate having you around. But there was something holding you back.

At first you thought it was Sam. He was your best friend and you didn't want to abandon him, but there was another feeling, an ache deep down that you didn't know the cause of. Other than Sam there really wasn't anything in this universe that would hold you back from going with Ben, but obviously there was, you just couldn't figure out what.

Sure Ben's reality was fucked up… yours was too. Demons and Angels duking it out for supremacy while other creatures hid under beds and in the dark to kill people or worse wasn’t ideal either. But you weren't sure what your life could look like there. There wasn't anything to hunt which meant you'd probably be dealing with supes instead and the thought wasn’t appealing. You weren't sure that you belonged in his world.

Maybe I should have asked him to stay with me?

The thought made you bite the inside of your cheek. You'd been thinking about moving out of the bunker. Yes it was the only permanent home you'd ever known, but Dean was getting on your nerves and you thought that maybe you should get a little bit of distance from him. Moving out and Ben staying meant that he could come with you on hunts, but you weren't sure that was the solution either. Ben was strong and brave, but you weren't sure that he had the precision or the delicate side you needed when approaching a hunt to do well here.

It was these thoughts that were keeping you awake and you decide to get some water to clear them.

You slowly begin to slip out from under the covers, gently moving Ben's arm off of you as slowly as you can as to not wake him before you make your way to your dresser to find a clean pair of panties and an oversized t-shirt. Ben sighs and shifts in the bed, the sheets pulling down just a little bit so you can admire the expanse of his freckled muscular back.

You'd seen Dean shirtless before once. He had come running out of his room with his gun drawn when you'd stubbed your toe on your bedside table and yelled. He hadn't put on a shirt before coming into your room, just aggressively kicked down the door wearing only a pair of hotdog pajama pants that you did mock him relentlessly for afterward. You didn't know why he'd looked so frantic when you yelled. It was just a toe after all. There wasn't anything for him to be worried about. Sam had showed up maybe ten minutes later rubbing the sleep from his eyes not worried at all.

But you'd remembered how Dean had looked shirtless. Sometimes the thought came flying into your mind at the most inopportune times, when Dean pissed you off and stuck his face so close to yours that you could feel his breath against your lips and the warmth of his skin through he air. The thought of him shirtless with his pajama pants hung so low on his hips that you could see every single hard defined muscle of his abdomen including the ones that made smart girls like you stupid.

You slipped on the clothes, but stop before you open the door to cast one more glance at Ben.

Although you knew that Ben and your relationship was more physical, there was a part of you that believed it could grow into something more if you went with him, something that you'd been wanting for a little while. Not just Ben specifically, but with someone.

Yes you were lonely, and Ben lessened the ache whenever he was around, but sometimes you wanted more than this and being a hunter didn’t help at all.

You never met anyone or tried to have a real relationship with anyone in a long time. The last permanent boyfriend you'd had wasn't a hunter, but someone you'd met in a bar after a hunt with Dean and Sam. It lasted Four months. Four months of you missing anniversaries, dates, and his birthday. He'd accused you of cheating on him with Sam and you'd found him in bed with his work partner when you'd tried to surprise him one weekend. You hadn't been surprised. Surprising was when the guy had tried to follow after you and both Dean and Sam had blocked his path and told him to "get lost." That was putting it nicely.

Sam had to hold Dean back from breaking the guy's arm when he shouted over the two of them at you that you "weren't worth the trouble." You didn’t understand why Dean was also just as pissed at the idea of the guy cheating on you as Sam.

You shake off the thought and tiptoe out of the room in the direction of the kitchen.

The bunker was silent, the metal floors cool beneath your bare feet as you walked down the desolate hallways. You glance at Dean's closed door for a moment as you pass and the feeling in the pit of your stomach tightens. A flash of the emotions on his face when you kissed Ben in the car and at the school flickers through your mind and you clench your jaw.

What the hell is wrong with me?

When you enter the kitchen you realize that you're not alone. Dean is leaning over the metal table his large hands braced on the top, his back to you, and his head bowed. A bottle of expensive whiskey sits on the counter in front of him next to a glass with the maple colored liquid inside. But the weird thing was that this wasn't the usual stuff Dean drank. This was the bottle that he had Sam hide from him for emergencies, the stuff that you'd only seen Dean drink when he was really upset and nothing else would cut it.

But what?

He turns when he hears you walk in.

You watch his eyes darken slightly as they skate over what you're wearing making your cheeks flush. You didn’t think he was still awake. If you had, you would have wore more than your favorite Metallica t-shirt that was worn soft from years of wear. Dean's gaze catches on the end of it where it hits mid-thigh, lingering a second too long, and makes something spark in your chest.

"Sorry. I was just getting some water." You clear your throat awkwardly.

"Romeo didn't get it for you?" Dean frowns as if the thought of Ben is an annoyance to him.

"No, he's asleep." You shake your head. "I thought you were asleep too-"

"Kinda hard to be sweetheart when the two of you are shooting a porno in the room next door to mine."

You feel your cheeks flush an even brighter pink. You didn't know that Ben and you were being that loud. The bed was a little squeaky, but you hadn't worried about the sound. The icky feeling in the pit of your stomach is back, the guilt rising in a wave the more you realize how much Dean heard.

Again? Why am I guilty? Ben and I had fun, he didn't force me to do anything. I wanted to have sex with him but-

"I'm sorry. I didn't know we were being that loud." You shake off the feeling and move around Dean to get a glass from one of the shelves.

"Guess he was making up for lost time huh? All those lonely months away from you fucking other women were hard I guess." Dean's words bite through the air and made your own temper flare up.

"He's not cheating on me. We weren't exclusive-"

"But you haven't been with anyone since you came back from his world."

Your hand freezes around the glass you reached for on the shelf. Why did he notice that? And why does he care?

The flicker of emotion in Dean's eyes when you kissed Ben in the auditorium comes roaring back, jealousy and hurt. It makes the guilt worse.

You let out a breath to calm the anger that wishes to bite back at Dean's comment. "Look, I know that you don't like him, but Ben isn't a bad person and even though it's not any of your business, we had fun."

You don't know why you felt the need to justify what you'd done with, but the words are out of your mouth before you can stop them. Standing here in front of Dean felt awkward, and it never had before. And it wasn't just because of what you were wearing, there was something else charging the air between the two of you. You were expecting a giant purple elephant to appear in the corner.

Dean chuckles, his eyes dark. "Did you now?"

"Yes." You reply, but you can't hold his gaze, not when he's looking at you like that.

Dean takes a long swig from the glass in front of him, his lips curling on the edges in a cruel smirk. This was the Dean you saw more often, the one that made you feel like a failure and a bother, but it was the first time that you longed to see the soft Dean who protected you from the fallen debris.

"I could hear just how much fun the two of you were having sweetheart." He continues. "But the man who isn’t a bad person toasted a woman that he slept with without batting an eye. Imagine what he'd do to you."

"A woman who was going to kill me." You say to defend Ben. "And he wouldn't hurt me."

Dean's eyes flick down to your thighs, his gaze hardening. "What do you call those?"

You glance down at the place where your shirt meets your thighs and notice the bruises. There were five on each leg and each was a perfect imprint of Ben's fingertips. They didn't hurt and you certainly hadn't felt or noticed them before Dean pointed them out.

But you knew that Ben would never hurt you. He wasn't like that.

Sure he killed that woman today, but she was crazy and she was trying to kill me and-

"He didn't it on purpose. He's stronger than us and sometimes-"

"Don't you dare make excuses for that asshole." Dean growls eyes flashing. "I don't care if he didn't do it on purpose, he still did it. He knows how strong he is and if he can't control himself he shouldn't be sleeping with you!"

"You're being ridiculous!" Ice clinks against the sides of your glass as you make your way back towards the sink.

"No, I'm not. And I want him gone!"

"Oh really?" You snark while placing the glass under the running water in the sink. "I had no idea. You've been so calm and collected since the moment Ben showed up."

Dean opens his mouth to respond, but instead huffs out a breath and pours himself another glass. The amber colored liquid splashes against the sides of the cup as Dean violently picks it up to take another drink.

An uncomfortable silence settles over the kitchen.

The water is cold, but you can't feel it when you take a sip, and you still can't quite look at Dean.

If he really is jealous, why can't he just come out and say it? Why is he being so stubborn and nitpicking someone else?

You sigh quietly to yourself and take another sip of water. The guilt was building again, prickling beneath your skin and bringing an uncomfortable sensation in the pit of your stomach the longer you stand there.

Why am I guilty? Dean being jealous has nothing to do with me and everything to do with him!

You think about going back to your room and being done with it, but you can't something is keeping you in that kitchen with Dean just as something is keeping him there with you.

"He-um-" You swallow. "He asked me to back with him to his universe." 

Dean's entire body tenses as he explodes. "What? Are you fucking kidding me!?"

"No I-"

"Are you seriously considering that?" He demands looking at you like you're crazy.

"Yes. I am." You answer him honestly. There's something hidden beneath the surface that makes you want to tell Dean this. You're not sure if it's morbid curiosity or if it's something else, something that you can't quite place, but you want Dean to tell you what he thinks.

"But why?! You've known that asshole for five days!" Dean snaps back, but you can hear something in his voice, almost as if he's holding himself back from saying something else.

Dean please just say it! Don't keep it in!

"He's not an asshole, he's just rough around the edges." You shrug continuing to make excuses for Ben and thinking about the bruises on your thighs.

"Oh please." Dean rolls his eyes so far into the back of his head you wonder how they didn't get stuck on his brain. "If I took a piece of tree bark and ran it along his arm, he'd make it smooth."

"But-"

"Sam told me that you were unhappy here, but I didn't think you would throw your entire life away to be with that asshole!"

His words make you hesitate for a moment in surprise.

Sam told him that I was thinking about leaving? Why did he tell Dean that?

"What life Dean?" You shout, throwing your arms out to gesture to the entire room. "I don't have anything here! I can't keep a relationship because I let people down. I don't know who my dad is because he walked out on my mom as soon as he found out she was pregnant. My mom died four years ago. I go to bed every night wishing for something else to happen but-" Frustrated tears were burning in your eyes now.

You didn't want to cry in front of him, but the urge to was overpowering everything else, the emotions you tried to keep down for so long beginning to curl and reform from the dark recessive parts of your mind where you buried them the night you met Dean Winchester.

"You deserve better than that asshole!" Dean shouts over you taking another step in your direction.

"Oh and what do you think I deserve Dean? Are you saying that I deserve someone like you?

Dean grits his teeth in frustration, anger blazing behind his eyes. "No I-" He finds his words. “I can’t believe you slept with him.”

"Oh good! That dinosaur. Falling back on something familiar, what a typical Dean Winchester move!" You gesture wildly with your hands sloshing water onto the floor. "I don’t understand why you’re so upset about it. We’re both consenting adults. He didn’t force me to do anything.”

You put down the cup to avoid throwing the glass at him.

“I just don’t see why you did it!” He towers over you, his body pulled taunt with his own anger and frustration.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You shouldn’t be sleeping around with people like him!”

Is he out of his MIND?!

"Why not?" You demand, fists curling into balls at your sides because you know that it's not safe to put them anywhere else. The anger that was flaring in your chest was starting to rival how you felt the last time that Dean and you had an argument and you broke his nose. And it had just finished healing a few days ago.

"Because he treats you like a piece of meat!" Dean shouts it so loud you can hear the frying pans hanging in the kitchen clink together

"Do you even hear yourself? I have seen you in bars picking up women after a hunt-"

You had. Countless times. The bravado Dean had when the three of you were still floating on the adrenaline that was pumping through from a hunt you'd seen first hand in the bars where Sam and you sat at a one of the high top tables watching him weave through the crowds with the sound of classic rock blaring over the crackly speakers. You watched Dean find another woman for the night, saw how he tried his best lines and got what he wanted while you sat in the motel room next to his trying to read beside a sleeping Sam and avoid the noises coming from next door.

"This is different!" He fumes.

"How is it different Dean? I want to know!"

Is it different because he's jealous? Or did I just imagine that?

You didn't think that you did.

Dean's face is bright red with the force of his anger and you're sure yours must be too given how it feels like it's on fire.

"He's always touching you or kissing you, putting his fucking hands on you!" Dean's jaw is clenched tight.  "I've never heard him give you one compliment other than how you look-"

You laugh in his face, but it comes out crueler than you meant it to. "In contrast to how many compliments you give me? Because I don't think there's been any of those."

"I compliment you." He huffs back.

"Oh really?" You scoff. "When?"

Dean is quiet for a minute. His eyes drag over you again, but this time the sweep of them bring a heat vibrating against your skin and your throat gets tight. "I like your shirt."

"HA!" You shout triumphant holding up a finger. "That's looks based."

"You didn't let me finish!" He scrambles. "I like your shirt because I like that band too and you have okay taste in music."

"Oh wooowwww. I have "okay taste in music" let me just swoon right here." You wave your hand back and forth. "Fuck you. I have awesome taste in music!"

"That's not what I-"

"And who is it that should I be sleeping around with? You?!" You roll your eyes trying to take a step away from him, but he moves to intercept you.

His fists are clenched so tightly at his sides that his knuckles are white. “I didn’t say that! Don’t put words in my mouth.”

His green eyes darken as he stares down at you, the fluorescent lights above the two of you catching the familiar hard lines of his face. Even though Dean looked like Ben, he still looked like himself in his own way. The familiar crows feet that graced under his eyes, the subtle tilt of his head, the rough stubble that pebbled over his chin and cheeks, the soft freckles, and the green eyes that you always found on you. There was a small scar just barely visible on the bridge of his nose and a few flecked on the edges of his face that made him more handsome.

You'd noticed how handsome he was in the past, but never like this. You'd never looked at Dean as other than someone who annoyed you. And yes he was annoying you now, but there was something else that you could feel threatening to explode, something you buried deep down and refused to unearth.

“I’m not putting words in your mouth Dean, I’m trying to figure out why this is such a big deal to you!”

Why is it a big deal?

“It just is!"

"Why? Because you're jealous?!" You hadn't meant to say it, but Dean's body goes taunt again.

"I am not jealous. I just don’t want you sleeping with him!”

“I think you are! And you’re not my dad Dean. You don’t get to decide who I sleep with!” You'd had enough of hearing him yell at you, of hearing him bitch about something that wasn't any of his business.

Who does he think he is? We're not together.

“That’s not what this is about-“

“Then what is it about Dean?! Why are you so hung up on something that is none of your business?!”

"It is my business!"

"How? How is it your business? Because you think that Ben is you somehow?"

"He is me!" Dean roars again and you wished he would stop saying it, because it was snagging on something in your chest.

A lie that you told yourself when you first started sleeping with Ben. You knew it. That you liked Ben because he looked like Dean and he appreciated you, that he didn't make you feel stupid, or ugly or not worth his time.

"No, he's not!" You shout back shaking off the feelings for what you hope is the final time. “Why do you care so much about this?!”

“Because I-“ Dean shouts, eyes narrowed at you. “Because I just do!”

“WHY?” You poke your finger into his chest. “I don’t care who you think you are. You don’t get to tell me who I can and cannot sleep with!"

“I’m not trying to!”

“Yes you are! And I am so sick of your bullshit Winchester. This is none of your business. None of this is. It's my life! So why don't you just take your unneeded opinion and-"

The rest of your sentence evaporates into thin air as Dean grabs your shoulders so tight you're sure they're be bruises and pulls you in for a searing kiss.

Your body is frozen in shock, the warmth of his lips against yours holding a softness that you'd never known.

Everything about this kiss is different than the ones you'd share with Ben. You knew better than to compare them, but Ben kissed like he meant to devour you. He wasn't hesitant or afraid to take what he wanted when he kissed you, but Dean?

Dean kissed like he wanted you to understand and that he wished to understand himself. Dean's kiss was passionate, filled with enough emotion that it left you breathless. Ben was never afraid to take what he wanted but Dean, he was almost asking, trying to let you understand, and trying to listen to what you wanted.

But just as he deepens the kiss you push him away and slap him across the face. The sharp sound rings through the kitchen and for a moment all you can do is stare at him shocked while the red mark on his face forms.

"What the hell was that for?" Dean shouts, but the emotion in his eyes wasn't anger, it was hurt.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" You shout back still out of breath. The ghost of his lips presses against yours and the taste of the whiskey remains on the tip of your tongue.

"I thought that-" He clears his throat, eyes widening.

"Thought what?"

"That you wanted me to-"

"To what? Kiss me?" The frustration was building again, because yes it had felt good to kiss him, but you hated that he was doing this now. That after years of him hating you, now when you had the possibility of being happy Dean was making this harder for you.

"Well-"

"No." You poke your finger into his chest, and this time you can't hold back the tears. They slip from your eyes, hot against your skin, as you feel every emotion that you'd kept bottled up beginning to surge up in a wave. "You don't get to do this Dean. Not now. Not after years of you treating me like shit."

Dean sighs and reaches for you, but you pull back from him. Hurt flashes in his eyes again and you can feel your own in the center of your chest. "I didn't-"

"Yes, you did. Damn it Dean, I'm not some shiny toy the two of you can fight over."

"That's not what I'm doing!"

"Then why now?" You ask in a half sob.

Dean pauses. "What?"

"Why after years of you hating me-"

"I never hated you." Dean's voice is more of a whisper than anything else.

"Oh bullshit. Yes you do!" You raise your hand to scrub at your cheeks, the tears falling quicker now.

It was the first time that you'd allowed yourself to cry in front of him, and you were fighting the urge to run back to your room. Ben was still there and you didn't know how the hell you were going to explain to you why you were crying.

"Will you just shut your damn mouth for five seconds and let me talk!?" He snaps running his hand through his hair, frustrated.

"Don't you dare tell me to shut up."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm going to break your nose again if you do!"

"You need to because I'm trying to explain-"

"Explain what? Explain that you've completely lost your mind? Explain that all the years of you undermining me, making me feel like a burden, teasing me, yelling at me, making me feel like I was stupid, and driving me absolutely insane, has just been you trying to say that you love me?!"

You hadn't meant to shout that at him. Hadn't meant to say the word love, but now it was there hovering in the air between the two of you. Dean's eyes are locked with yours and you don't think he's taken a breath since you spoke.

Because love was a little word, only four letters, but why did it always seem so heavy? How could one word have the same weight as a loaded gun? How could something so small cause so much pain and so much hurt?

"Yes." Dean looks down at the ground, not able to meet your eyes. He looks ashamed and you can't find the words to fill the silence.

Because Dean Winchester was in love with you. The man who you'd always thought hated you, who you thought wished that you were never around, and who you thought believed you to be an annoyance.

Holy shit.

"I-" He swallows. "I'm sorry. I didn't know how much I hurt you. All I wanted was for you to be safe and to talk to me the way you talk to Sam." His voice is quiet, just a soft rumble, but you can hear a tremor on the edge of his words. "I didn't mean to make you hate me."

The words strike you right in the center of your chest and it shocks you so much that you stop crying. You'd seen different sides of Dean before. Seen him angry, happy, annoyed, frustrated, sad… but Dean Winchester had never looked broken around you, not like this, and certainly not over you. Whenever something went wrong Dean would isolate himself from you in his room with a bottle of something to numb the pain. It made you feel like someone was gutting out your insides with a pitchfork.

The silence grows between the two of you again, and his head is still bowed and looking down at the floor in shame.

You exhale softly, controlled by something that you're not sure, and reach out towards Dean's face.

He flinches back from you, eyes rimmed red, looking at you suspiciously as if he believes you're going to break his nose. In hindsight, you supposed it was a reasonable fear to have since you'd done it in the past.

"What are you doing?" He asks, voice cracking. Dean's green eyes have dimmed, looking more like an aged jade pot that's sat outside in the sun for too long.

"Please shut up." You sniffle, the end of your mouth twitching into a smile, before you place your hands on the sides of Dean's face and pull him down to you.

The kiss is quick, only a brush of your lips against his to give yourself a taste and when it's done you pull back letting your hands fall to your sides. You're not sure why you did that. Maybe it's because Dean admitted to loving you and he looks like a lost puppy, but-

Dean steps forward into the space, his hands reaching towards your face, and you flinch.

“What are you-“

“Please shut up.” Dean murmurs, echoing the words you'd whispered to him moments ago.

His hands are rough and warm against your cheeks. Worn from years of carrying a gun in his hand and hard work he never shied away from. But they’re nothing but gentle against your skin as he pulls your face to his.

You could be standing on the surface of the sun and not feel as hot as you do now. A volcano could erupt and bathe you in lava and you would just scoff at it like it was a normal day, because kissing Dean feels infinite. It's all consuming. The scrub of his five o'clock shadow against your cheeks, the slide of his hands down your arms that bring goosebumps in their wake, the smell of his shampoo that you always catch when you walk into the bathroom, the nudge of his nose into your cheek, and the soft supple welcome of his lips that draw the breath from your lungs all take you somewhere otherworldly.

You couldn't stop. It was a compulsion, like magnets, like it was something you wanted to do for so long but buried it deep down to avoid the inevitable. Fueled by the belief that Dean would push you away, because Dean Winchester hated you.

But he didn't, he never did.  And in the kiss is something else, years of emotions the two of you pushed down, years of being frenemies of almost losing each other, years of ignoring what was developing between the two of you, and years of watching the other fall for the wrong person.

Dean moans softly into your mouth and picks you up, his muscular arms fitting under your legs to place you on the counter, not pulling away at all and stepping into the space between them to fit himself closer to you. Your hands come to the back of his head, tangling in the short strands at the nape of his neck, shuffling your nails through his hair in a way that makes Dean shudder and pull you tighter to his chest.

Dean pulls back from you out of breath, but rests his forehead against yours, as if any further is too far from you and he doesn't wish to ever let you go.

"I don't hate you Dean." You whisper before he can say anything. "I can't. And I was only with Ben because I thought that this could never happen because you hated me-"

Dean's lips fall against yours taking your next words with it. "I don't hate you. I never did."

"Then why?"

He sighs. "I hated that you were a hunter, that this was your life, that you'd been doing this for so long with no one helping you."

"I'm okay."

"I know that, but I-" Dean hesitates. "I shouldn't have done what I did, but I didn't think that you'd want this-"

"This?"

"Me." Dean closes his eyes leaning further against you, almost as if he can’t hold himself up.

"Why?" Your grip on the back of his neck tightens.

"Because I'm-" He tries to find the word. "I'm not perfect. I'm a jealous asshole. I've done terrible things, made you cry.” He sighs. “You deserve better."

You kiss him softly. "There is no one better. I'm not looking for perfect, I'm looking for human. There's nothing wrong with making a mistake and being imperfect. The imperfections are what make you, you." Your fingers curl into the hair at the nape of his neck. "Dean, you're not a bad person. You are the most selfless man I have ever met. And maybe you've messed up a few times, but I have too. Do you think I'm a bad person for the things I've done?"

There was a list of them that seemed to grow longer each day and it was difficult not to dwell on the things of the past. But standing here with Dean, watching the weight settle on his shoulders, while he told you that he didn't think he was enough for you made you throw it all away.

"No.”

“Do you think that I’m not deserving of love?”

“No. But-"

 You shush him. "Then don’t talk that way about the man I love."

Dean's eyes widen, but you watch the end of his lips twitch into a smile. "You love me?"

"Yeah." You whisper. "I think I always have, but I was afraid because you were-"

His mouth falls over yours so fast you don’t have time to finish the thought. "I love you too."

Your heart flutters in your chest with his words.

"Kinda hard not to." His thumbs stroke along your hip bone over the soft t-shirt sending electricity dancing along your spine.

You smirk. "You're right. I am pretty great."

"I think the word you're looking for is high maintenance." Dean smirks back at you.

"Aww… That means I'm out of your league and you're lucky to have me in your life." You giggle with a smile.

"I am." He murmurs, nudging his nose forward into yours moving in for another kiss.

Someone clears their throat from the other side of the room drawing your eye. Ben is leaning against the doorway dressed in his suit, watching where you're wrapped up in Dean's arms.

Any warm feelings you were having standing there with Dean immediately evaporate and the guilt comes roaring back. You'd forgotten that Ben was still here and you felt bad for him. You didn't want him to think that you used him.

"Ben I-" You begin to stutter, but he only shakes his head at you.

"You don't gotta explain anything doll, I know what this was." Ben smirks, but you see something flicker in his gaze for just a second before its gone.  "And I'm man enough to admit when I'm beat. Even if I don't like it."

"But-" You try to say again.

Oh this is so awkward.

"Don't do me any favors sweetheart, we had fun." Ben shrugs. "That's all this was."

Cas walks into the room with Sam at his heels, who looks much too smug when he spies where Dean has you on the counter. You push Dean back and stand up, while Dean shoots daggers with his gaze leveled at Sam.

Sam isn't phased, but chooses not to say anything.

Ben rolls himself off the doorway and walks confidently to where Dean and you are standing, extending his hand towards Dean. "You take care of her." Ben's eyes flick to you for a second before focusing more on Dean. "She's special."

The hand of guilt on your throat tightens just a little more, because somewhere you wondered if Ben really was as aloof as he seemed or if he had started to care about you a little more than he let on.

"I will." Dean's smile is forced, and you see him squeeze Ben's hand a little tighter as he does.  It only makes Ben smirk wider.

Cas begins to write the symbol on the floor taking care with each intricate detail to open the portal, but you stop him at the last minute.

"Wait." You take a step forward and hug Ben tightly. "Thank you."

"You're thanking me for fucking you?" Ben snorts throwing a smug look in Dean's direction that makes Dean bristle. "Guess I am a gift."

"Shut up." Your cheeks blaze bright red and you hear Dean growl something under his breath. "No, just thank you. For being here."

Ben hesitates. He raises his hand to your cheek, fingers tracing along your skin before he brushes away some of your hair. It was a gentle gesture from him, one that you weren't accustomed to. The emotion in his eyes shifts to something else, but he hides it with a smirk. "You're welcome sweetheart."

"Maybe you'll meet the me from your reality." You say, because you're not sure what else you can say, not when Ben is looking at you like that.

The entire situation was again reaching soap opera proportions and there was only so much you could take before you drove your car off a cliff.

The truth was, you did like Ben. You thought he was attractive, bold, strong, but there was always something a little gentle that lurked under the surface he never let anyone else see.

But you loved Dean. He understood what it was like to be a hunter, understood what it was like to not be able to live up to someone's expectations, and he loved you. You couldn't see a life with Ben, but you could see one with Dean. Ben didn't belong in your world and you didn't belong in his.

Ben's smirk twitches. "Maybe. But she won't be the same as you doll."

Dean clears his throat and steps forward to pull you back into his chest possessively. "I think your ride's leaving." You don't have to look up into his face to know he's frowning.

Ben chuckles. "You know what kid? You're alright." His eyes flick back to yours. "You give me a call if you get bored with him."

"She won't." Dean snaps. “And don’t call me kid.”

Ben only laughs at him and steps closer to Cas as he begins to finish the ritual and when the portal finally opens, Ben goes through without looking back.

And you don’t feel guilty anymore, because you knew that Ben understood.

"Finally." Dean breathes a sigh of relief that makes you snort, dropping his head to your shoulder. It was so casual that you had to remind yourself that Dean loved you and you loved him.

Sam clears his throat. "Hey Cas will you help me with something in the library-"

"What do you have to do in the library?" Cas frowns at him confused.

"Just something come on-"

"But why-"

"CAS!" Sam shouts casting an obvious look in the direction of where Dean and you are standing.

Cas looks at the two of you. "Are they coming with us to the library?"

Sam huffs out a frustrated breath and grabs Cas by the back of his trench coat to drag him out of the kitchen so Dean and you can have a few moments alone.

You snort at the confused look on Cas's face when Sam drags him out, before you turn your body in his arms to look up into Dean's handsome face. "Do you have any idea how ridiculous it is to be jealous of yourself?"

"I thought he wasn't me?" Dean smirks, his eyebrow arching with his tease. His fingers are resting resolutely on your hips, thumbs softly trailing in circles.

"He is a little bit." You admit defeated. "But don't look so smug Winchester."

"I think I'm allowed to be a little bit." His smirk grows and he leans his face down to yours. Instead of feeling angry at the appearance of his smirk it only makes you smile.

Standing here in the aftermath made you see Dean in a different light, made your heart buckle and jump in your chest the longer you stood there in the kitchen basking in the warmth that began to bloom in your chest.

"Maybe…" You gently touch the front of his buffalo print flannel, smoothing the fabric beneath your fingertips. It looked good on him, very little looked bad on Dean.

"Do you regret staying with me?" He mutters.

"What?" You glance back up to see his face and notice that he's not smiling, he's frowning at you, and his eyes aren't as bright.

Dean clears his throat. "Well you seemed like you were really going to miss him and-"

He doesn't get to finish his sentence. You throw your arms around his neck and pull him back down to you, putting you everything you have into the kiss, hoping that Dean can feel how you have no regrets staying with him, that all you want is him.

"Dean Winchester." You breathe, moving your hands to cup his cheeks so he can't look away from you. "I do not regret staying with you, because I love you." You pull him as close to you as you can, his warm hands splayed over your back. "This is where I belong." You kiss him on the tip of his nose. "And this is where you belong. With me."

Dean's eyes warm the longer you hold his gaze. "I'm starting to believe you."

"Anything that I can do to convince you?"

"I can think of a few things…"

Ben/Soldier Boy POV

"Stupid, fucking piece of shit!" Ben growled at the computer monitor in front of him that had a bright red ERROR message splayed across it.

It had been two days since he'd left your reality, and he was trying his best to shove away the disappointment at the fact that you hadn't decided to come back with him. It wasn't that Ben wanted more than what the two of you had, it was that he liked having someone to talk to or try to talk to, and you were a good listener.

He didn’t like opening up to people, but there was something about you. He could trust you and Ben hadn't found anyone he could trust since he got back from Russia.

Ben also wasn't about to admit that he was lonely, he had plenty of women who were eager to warm his bed, but there was something about you that always made him feel different. He wasn't sure what that was exactly.

He'd also be lying if he said that he had wanted to explore it a little more if you'd come with him to his reality. The thought of you staying with him for an extended period of time in his apartment hadn't been unwelcome. Ben had never allowed other women to stay more than a day, but you… Ben would have let you stay as long as you wanted to.

Fuck.

He knew that he wasn't in love with you, but Ben knew he liked having you around. He liked being friends with you and he liked fucking you.

And yes he was disappointed that you had chosen Dean instead of him, but at the same time Ben didn't blame you. You had a history with Dean and when you'd been forced into Ben's reality, you'd talked to him a lot about Dean. Ben knew that you liked Dean more than you cared to admit.

But there was still an unwelcome feeling in the pit of his stomach that Ben wasn't accustomed to.

Ben huffed out a breath to push away the thoughts, while looking at what was left of the keyboard on his desk. The keys were scattered across the wooden top like bits of confetti, broken easily underneath his large fingertips when he'd tried to write an email

When he'd come back from Russia, Ben had taken a job working for the Department of Supe Affairs, but he was "grounded" due to the "anger issues" that he swore he didn't have, and because he didn't listen to Butcher whenever he gave him an order.

I don't need to follow orders. I'm Soldier Boy! I should be giving the orders!

Basically it meant that he was stuck on a desk indefinitely until Annie January, the new department head, released him. She'd also ordered that Ben go to company mandated therapy sessions once a week. He'd refused to go, but after Annie threatened him with termination of his contract, which meant that Ben would have gone back to being someone who "looked like someone who used to be famous," he'd gone to therapy.

And he refuses to admit this to anyone… but he liked it. Someone who was paid to listen to him bitch for a whole hour about whatever pissed him off and actually kept their trap shut was just what he needed.

Sometimes it reminded him of when he would talk to you, but there were still things that he refused to tell anyone and some of those things he had told you.

Ben ran his hand through his hair frustrated at his predicament. He would have liked to go into the field and take out some of his frustration on another supe, but Annie refused to give.

Ben didn't like listening to women, but even he had to admit Annie had a set of brass balls and he respected her for it. She didn’t take shit from anyone and especially didn't listen to Ben's bitching over why he should be in the field instead of being chained to a desk.

"Oi you all right mate?" Butcher calls and Ben can hear the shit eating grin without looking up from his computer screen.

The error message was still displayed in bright red letters, mocking him.

Ben knows that Butcher doesn't give a shit, and is probably about to start teasing him about his inability to adapt to modern day technology.

It wouldn't be the first time.

"Don't you have something better to do? Like fucking that little bitch that Annie is ploughing?" Ben spits back, clicking on the mouse but all it does is bring up another error message in another language.

"Oh mon ami, that doesn't look good." Frenchie walks by to stare at the computer screen that has now gone slightly fuzzy.

"I don’t think that's going to fix it mate." Butcher laughs. " But I called IT."

"I don’t need any of those four-eyed fucks helping me!" Ben snaps turning to narrow his eyes at Butcher.

He's holding a white cup of tea, wearing his usual long trench coat and Hawaiian shirt, with the shit eating grin that Ben knew Butcher was going to have when he looked up.

The last thing Ben needed was some nerd telling him everything that he did wrong. He was already on a first name basis with the director of the IT department, who was a little weasel of a man and who no longer picked up the phone when Ben called to yell at him.

"I think you're gonna want to listen to this particular four eyed fuck. She's new." Butcher gloats. "But don’t say I never did anything for you Soldier Boy."

"What the fuck does that mean?" Ben shouts at Butcher's back, but he's already gone.

Ben turns back to the error message that has begun to flash an even brighter red and now has a countdown.

"Fuck, fuck fuck-" Ben growled and to remedy the situation he puts his fist through the computer screen. It makes a high pitched electrical popping sound, showering his desk in sparks, while the overhead lights flicker, before the screen goes completely black.

Ben was not stupid, but he was a little slow when it came to modern day technology. He was doing better than he had initially, but it was taking him a longer time to understand using his desktop computer at work than his cell phone.

"Hi, I'm from IT. Mr. Butcher called and said that you might need a little help." The voice was small and tentative, coming from somewhere on Ben's left.

"I don't need any help. Especially not from a fucking four-" Ben started to growl, but then he looked up and the words died in his throat.

Because the person standing next to his desk was you.

This version of you looked different. Ben was used to seeing someone in old band t-shirts, worn blue jeans, and flannel shirts, someone who carried themselves confidently and had a hardness surrounding their outer exterior that simply said "don't fuck with me."

But this version of you was softer and a little gentle. Your hair was longer and pushed back from your face by a simple black headband, you were wearing dark framed glasses, an oversized cardigan sweater that covered a simple pair of blue jeans, a striped blouse, and a pair of dark blue converse. The converse made Ben smile. He hadn't seen anyone wearing Chuck Taylors in a little while and it was a welcome sight, something from the past that he actually recognized.

The version of you Ben knew from Dean's universe flashed through Ben's mind again. She was more confident and outgoing, but you looked a little shy, hiding back in the cardigan and using the iPad in your hands as a welcome distraction to looking Ben in the eyes and like a shield.

He thought it was cute.

As much as Ben liked the version of you he knew who didn't shy away from anything, Ben found himself smiling at this one. You were definitely more soft spoken and a little less confident, but Ben could see a sweetness and sincerity in your eyes that he hadn't come across since he came back to the US.

It was the thing that always made him trust the other version of you, the part of him that made him want to tell the other version of you things that he hadn't told other people.

"I'm sorry." You say, even though you have nothing to be sorry about. "I-"

"No. I'm sorry." Ben clears his throat awkwardly and for the first time in a long time he feels nervous. He wasn't sure why that was, not to mention he never apologized to anyone, ever, but he didn't want to scare you away.

"It's okay." You give him a soft smile. "Computers can be frustrating, but sometimes it’s better not to put your fist through the screen."

Ben chuckles. "Probably not my best work."

You shake your head, a wider smile on your face, the motion of it sending the smell of your perfume over him, something floral and a little old fashioned. You look at the remnants of the computer and bite the inside of your cheek deep in thought.

Ben found himself tracing the furrow of your brows and the scrunch of your nose. You were beautiful in every reality to him.

"Well, Mr. Soldier Boy I don't think-"

"Please call me Ben." He interrupts.

Ben wondered if you were this shy all the time and if you'd be just as shy if he took you to bed. He wanted to find out.

Ben had slept with many women in his lifetime and he was usually drawn to women who were more confident and outgoing, sure of themselves, but there was something about your shy attitude that Ben found attractive.

"Ben." You say it in the soft voice of yours, cheeks flushed a little bit as if you're embarrassed to say it. "I don't think that there's anything I can do for this." Your hand waves over the computer. "But I can go talk to my boss and tell him you need another one."

"I'll go with you." Ben stood up.

He didn’t want to let you out of his sight, not when a part of him worried that you weren’t really there or you would evaporate into nothing before his very eyes.

"Oh, it's okay. You don't have to-" You stammer, shaking your head, and not quite looking at him as if making eye contact was a little harder for you.

"I want to." Ben smiles at you. He hears your heart beat quicken and can hear the small intake of breath you have when he smiles. "He's an asshole and I don't want him to chew you out for something I did." Ben explains.

It was partly true. The guy was an asshole. Not to mention, Butcher had said it was your first day and Ben wasn’t going to stand by and have the head of the IT department screaming at you when you had done nothing wrong.

"Oh." You clear your throat, cheeks blushing that cute pink color that makes Ben smile wider. "Well if you'll just follow me."

He hadn’t met someone like you in a long time. And even though he liked the other version of you, Ben was starting to like this one more.

"To the ends of the Earth doll." Ben winks and watches the flush of your cheeks deepen to a crimson and hears the way your heart buckles and jumps when he does.

And the longer he stands there watching you blush, Ben begins to feel an odd feeling flicker in the pit of his stomach racing up into his chest that he’d never felt before and for the first time in a long time Ben was curious to see where it could lead.

A/N: Alright we made it to the end and everyone got a happy ending! Thank you again everyone for all the love and support while I was writing this mini-series 💗

Reveal of the Poll:

🥫: Meeting the reader from Ben's Universe in a grocery store.

💻: Meeting the reader from Ben's Universe in the IT department.

Personally I liked the IT more, and the problem is now I really like the shy reader with Ben. They are so cute and now I'm hyperfixated on Ben with a shy reader so we'll see where that goes 🤣

Thank you so much for reading! As always likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated, but are not required. I love hearing what y'all think!

Taglist For It's Not A Big Deal:

@roseblue373 @mrsjenniferwinchester @livya99 @zepskies

@winchesterwild78 @ladykitana90 @spnfamily-j2 @whyyouegg

@suckitands33 @pizzagirlxnsfwx @s0uz4s @schinug @just-levyy

@xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @minas-fantasies @ladysparkles78

@mochminnie @peachhiz

@impala67stellawinchester @nancymcl @lunaleah @lightdancingwords @kamisobsessed

@justwhisperingfantasies @lunaleah @kamisobsessed @kmc1989 @djudy99

@chriszgirl92

@toxicfataldestiny @im-bili @anniebannanie0315 @jays-bonnie-on-the-side @schinug

@shara-ne @gaida-511 @xxmusic13luverxx @bakugotypecrashout @n-o-p-e-never

@thoughtfullyfurryangel @youroldfashioned

@marvelgeeka @myceliumsunshine @hobby27

@funkenniffler

[aurorawritestoescape]

GIVE ME HELL

Stepdad Joel Miller x f!reader || 1,9 k

part 4 of A Step Into Hell || can be read alone

Summary: you come home drunk and Joel isn’t happy. He decides to teach you a lesson.

Tw: 18+ mdni, smut, step-cest, Joel's POV, dub con (alcohol intoxication) but reader's very into it, big legal age gap, dark!Joel, mean!Joel, possessive!joel, jealous!Joel, pussy/cock pronouns, fingering, unprotected piv, creampie, degradation, slut shaming, a lil bit of praise kink, daddy kink, spanking (1), cum eating, mention of alcohol consumption, mention of unplanned pregnancy, swearing. The pics are for the mood only. Reader has no specific physical descriptions but wears a skirt.

A/n: huge thank you to 🎯 anon for the hottest thots😘 I used the schoolgirl skirt idea in this story, it suited the plot perfectly! Kisses to @milla-frenchy for beta-ing and for loving the mf💋I hope you all will enjoy this part! Love you!💞

Dividers by @/saradika-graphics

SERIES MASTERLIST || MASTERLIST

Here you were. Miss ‘I need daddy’s cock to sleep’ came back from a party, looking like a whore. Who was surprised? Not Joel. A tight top was showcasing your gorgeous tits perfectly, a schoolgirl skirt was so short it was barely covering your ass. But what grabbed Joel’s attention immediately was your slightly smudged make up and your glossy eyes. Even in the dim light of the tv illuminating the dark living room Joel could see that you were drunk.

Probably trying not to sway, you purposefully leaned against the doorframe to say hi to your mother, your voice slightly higher than usual.

Joel wasn’t fooled by your act. A mix of rage and arousal set his body and mind on fire.

Drunk slut! Probably dragged your ass home after being groped and rubbed against all night. What if some horny frat boy fucked you?

Joel’s blood started boiling and your mother’s nonchalant attitude to the sight of you made him clench his fists even harder.

You needed to be punished. What wouldn’t he give to bend the whore over his lap and spank your juicy ass and slutty pussy. Fuck! His wife was next to him on the couch.

“How was the party?” she asked you with a smile.

“ ‘s ok. Going to bed. Good night.”

And you turned around and went upstairs. No! Not gonna happen. You weren’t getting out of it so easily.

Joel turned to his wife with his brows furrowed, having put a mask of virtuous concern on his face and hiding his semi with a throw blanket.

“Aren’t you gonna talk to her?”

”What about?”

“Her state? You ok with it?”

Your mother gave him a shrug.

“Yeah, she’s a little drunk but .. she’s been at a party. And she’s old enough to decide for herself whether to drink or not.”

Joel clenched his jaws but then took a deep breath, calming his nerves, and returned his eyes to the tv. Then he mumbled matter-of-factly, feigning his interest in the show,

“Hope ya ready to become a grandma then.”

He saw his wife fidget on the couch. Yeah, now someone was concerned!

“Why? What do you mean?”

“I mean that if you let her behave like that, then wait for her to get knocked up by some blogger or any other unemployed fucker. No college, no career. Doubt your ex’s gonna be happy that she ruined her future right under your nose.”

Joel glanced at his wife and shrugged like she’d done earlier. The naive bitch looked really worried.

Daddy Joel to the rescue!

“Honey, don’t panic. I’ll handle it. Let me talk to her. As a father figure.”

“Really? You’ll do that?” his wife asked with hope in her voice. Joel took her hand and looked into her eyes.

“Of course. I care about her. Very much.”

He wasn’t lying. You were his perfect fucktoy and he took care of the things that belonged to him.

“Don’t be too harsh on her,” his wife said as Joel got up and quickly adjusted his perked up cock.

“I’ll be gentle, don’t worry.”

Of course that was a lie. When Joel came up to your bedroom, he unceremoniously stormed in and locked the door behind him.

You were standing at your desk, smiling at your phone, probably sending out 1000000 slutty selfies from the party all over the internet.

“Hey! You can’t just barge in like that?” you exclaimed, pouting your pretty lips.

Joel placed his hands on his hips and grumbled with a glare,

“Wrong! It’s my house and I can do whatever the fuck I want. You on the other hand —,” he pointed his thick index finger in your direction and barked, ”— can’t!”

“What?” You seemed confused and tired but all Joel cared about at that moment were his heavy balls and stiffening cock, locked and loaded to ruin his stepdaughter’s hole.

” ’m here to have a talk with you.”

You giggled, “What talk? The birds and the bees?”

“Somethin like that,” Joel grunted, taking a step to you, and then pushed you to your desk.

“Joel!” you half whispered, half exclaimed, trying to stop him with your little palms on his chest, but Hurricane Joel couldn’t be stopped. He roughly grabbed your hips and made you sit on the edge of the desk.

“No… Mom’s downstairs…,” you mumbled softly, already melting when he settled between your spread thighs.

”Then be quiet. You can cry a lil. She’ll think you’re really sorry,” Joel sneered, looking down at you. His chest swelled with pride and dominance - he was big and strong and you were just a silly girl, who foolishly thought that she could do whatever she wanted. Hell no!

“Ya think you can come to my house drunk? Lookin like a whore who’s been passed around?”

You averted your eyes in shame, murmuring,

“Mm.. no. Jus’ had a few beers.”

“Did ya have a few cocks too?”

You shook your head before Joel grabbed your chin with two fingers and tilted your face up to look into your dopey eyes.

”You let anyone use you? Which hole? Bet your sexy schoolgirl skirt is soaked with cum.”

“No-no, daddy, I didn’t…”

He slowly glided his palms down over the fabric covering your hips and then pulled your skirt up, exposing your bare cunt.

A deep growl rose from Joel’s chest before he gruffed, his voice ringing with rage,

“Ya went to the fucking party with your cunt out in the open like that? Ready to serve any cock close enough to her?”

Joel's nostrils were flaring, his fists were clenching your skirt, as he was glaring down at you. He must have looked really scary because you widened your eyes and grabbed his thick forearms.

“Oh no-no-no, Joel! I took ’em off just before stepping inside. Like you told me, remember? No panties in the house.”

His dark eyes were darting between yours, searching for any sign of deceit.

“Hope you ain’t lyin to me,” he grunted, burning you with his fiery gaze.

“I swear, daddy.”

That ‘daddy’ really helped your case. Joel got more horny than mad and looked down at your pussy. Without a word he pushed a finger into your hole and you gasped.

“Did ya wet yourself? Or just that needy?” he asked, keeping the finger inside your sopping cunt. ”Who’s all this slick for? Someone at the party caught your eye?”

“No, I… I kept thinking about you, daddy.”

Joel smirked, “Yeah? What were you thinkin?”

“You… you doing things to me.”

“Hnggg,” Joel pulled his finger out of your hole and licked his skin clean with a lopsided grin on his glistening lips.

“You got horny-drunk, yeah, babydoll? Could’ve called daddy. I woulda come down there, dragged you to the bathroom and pumped ya little cunt full.”

“Really?” you asked with a drunk smile, your heart eyes set on Joel’s face.

“Course not, dumb slut. I ain’t drivin god knows where on a Friday night to fuck you. Especially when I know that the pussy is gonna come to me.”

You scrunched your nose and pouted.

“You’re so mean.”

“Ouch, you hurt my feelings!” Joel barked a laugh and roughly grabbed your pussy, making you moan. Then he leaned down to your face, so close your lips were almost touching, and you reached up to him, initiating a kiss, but Joel pulled away and instead squeezed your cheeks with his hand.

“I ain’t kissin your beer hole. And here’s the talk I promised you.”

You pushed his hand away and glared up at him. Your stepdad grabbed the back of your neck with one hand, your pussy with the other and continued,

”Ya got drunk. And drunk girls are always in danger of bein used. I reckon you better learn this lesson at home than at a party full of strangers, uh, sweetie?”

He shook his hand full of your cunt and you whimpered a needy “yeah”.

Then Joel pulled you off the desk and roughly spun you around. You squeaked but didn’t protest. Manhandling you was always easy, like dealing with a rag doll, especially now when you were drunk.

“We don’t have much time so let’s start,” he spit and pushed you down on the desk. In a second your hands were clasped by his hand behind your back, his huge cock bulge pressed to your naked ass, your holes ready for him to use.

“Daddy, fuck me,” you whined needily, wiggling your naked ass, brushing it against his hard-on.

Joel titled his head and grinned. The bitch was really desperate. You’d always been a slut for his dick but the alcohol seemed to have made you extra horny.

“You don’t deserve my cock today, slut, but all this slick can't go to waste”.

Joel let go of your wrists, tugged his sweatpants down and freed his leaking stallion. Then he roughly stabbed you with his length and shoved it to the hilt in one go. You took him easily, your pussy dripping with need for his giant schlong, and moaned into your palm, already fluttering around him. Suddenly, Joel froze.

“Wanna come on daddy’s cock?”

“Yeahhhh.”

“Yeah? Then work for it, baby,” he ordered through gritted teeth, keeping himself from bursting inside you — your cunt felt fucking fantastic as always.

“Daddyyyy…”

Your whine only made Joel laugh. He slapped your asscheek, and growled,

“Move! If your pussy wants the fireworks, ya better ride my horse cock. I ain’t doin shit for you tonight.”

He stood still with his hands holding your hips, his throbbing cock deep to the base inside you, while watching you squirm and almost cry with frustration. You begged him again but Joel didn’t move an inch while all his inches were being soaked by your crying pussy.

Probably having realized that he was serious, clumsily and slowly, on trembling legs, you started moving your body back and forth, exposing Joel’s shaft to his eyes and then swallowing it back with the greedy mouth of your cunt.

“Yeah, sweetie. You doin it, look at ya. Take what you need. Milk him dry, babydoll.”

Joel’s praise seemed to entice you, to inject some energy into your body, and you started fucking yourself with his cock faster and harder. Slapping noises filled the room as your ass was banging against Joel rougher and rougher. Your stepdad dug his fingers into your soft hips, watching you pleasure yourself with his hard cock.

“She’s so thirsty— wants to get drunk on daddy’s hot sperm, uh? — ’ll make her swallow it all to the drop.”

Panting heavily, Joel sounded intoxicated himself while talking about your wet cunt, seeing her rhythmically sucking in his fat length and spitting it out.

“Yeah, daddy. Please.”

“Good girl—,” Joel croaked and began emptying his balls inside you, pouring all his rage and jealousy into your pulsating cunt.

You came right after, almost crying on his exploding cock, pushing your face into your palms to muffle your ecstatic moans.

When Joel filled you full of his cum, he pulled out and stood over you splayed on the desk like a used fuckdoll. He was catching his breath, watching your winking hole drip his creamy jizz, then wiped his cock with your skirt and helped you up.

”If I see you drunk again in my house, I won’t let you come for a month, ya hear me?” Joel roared and you hastily nodded. Then his lips curved into a satisfied smile.

“I’m glad we had this talk.”

He looked you up and down again, shook his head and left the room.

Thank you for reading! Please comment and reblog if you enjoyed the fic!<3

SERIES MASTERLIST || MASTERLIST

Tag list: @milla-frenchy @harriedandharassed @iamasaddie @nervousmumbling @bbyanarchist @stevie75 @puduvallee @auteurdelabre @mountainsandmayhem @senoratess @flamingochick55 @theoraekenslover @schnarfer @mermaidgirl30 @staywildflowahchild @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @evolnoomym @keylimebeag @joelmillerisapunk @pascaltesaye @fruityreads @itwasntimethatdidit40

People who were interested in pt 4, no pressure to read bbs: @sunshineispunk @bonezone44 @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler-pascal @tateypots

[lostinlovingrevery]

Somnolent

Trilogy! Logan X F! Reader

A/N: I started writing this while half asleep last night so if there's some parts that seem odd. No there ain't...

Plot: Logan comes back home to you late at night...

Warnings: SMUT, 18+! MDNI, sleepy sex, unprotected PiV, creampie, light cockwarming at the end (watch out for UTIs), fingering, there's some fluff too!

Word Count: 2497

The mansion late at night was always a bit unsettling.

The halls usually filled with kids and teenagers, chatting, laughing, and running about, were empty and quiet. Lights throughout the school dimmed to a lower level, making the halls and most rooms shadowy and dark. It didn’t mean everyone was asleep, but for the most part, the school was tucked in.

Logan quietly stepped inside. He has come back from a solo mission, something to do with getting some info regarding a young mutant that has taken up cage fighting and using the advantage of their powers to win fights. 

Sounds eerily familiar. 

Except for the young part. 

Charles thought Logan would be perfect for the job, considering he had a “career” cage fighting even though Logan insisted that no, it wasn’t a career it was just a way to make some money. Nonetheless, considering Logan had agreed to stay at the mansion and help out after some…various incidents, he told Charles he’ll see what he can do. 

Kid was just some misled youth, believing he was some freak of society and ran away from home. Logan wasn’t really good at helping people through life crisis- considering he was in his own. Gave him some honest advice, and in the end kid ended up deciding to go back home to his parents. Job well done. He did invite him to join the school- purely because Charles told him to offer the invitation, but he declined. One thing at a time.

Hearing the sound of the tv playing, he peeked inside to see the same boy as usual - who claims he doesn’t sleep, watching tv, flipping channels with the blink of his eyes.

“TVs gonna rot your mind bub,” Logan mutters as he watches the channels flip through. 

“Nuh uh.” He mutters. 

“Couldn’t you just read a book?” 

“I read in the day.” He says. He blinks again, and an old cartoon is playing, which Logan recognizes to be ‘The Flintstones’. The boy settled deeper in the couch, seemingly satisfied by the channel he was watching. He scoffed, a grin coming across his face as he shook his head, turning back to go towards the stairs. The wooden steps creaked under his weight as he walked up the stairs. 

There was one thing that had been on his mind the entire time he was gone. The sweet little thing that has really become the sole reason he decided to stay- although he hasn’t told you that yet. 

He stopped at the door that belonged to your bedroom. Cracking it open silently as he peered inside, and he could make out your sleeping figure under the sheets. Stepping inside, he dropped his bag to the floor silently and closed the door behind him. He walked around the bed, his eyes not leaving you as he got closer. 

You were sleeping peacefully on your back, one arm resting across your stomach, the other, folded behind your head, which was turned to the side- facing him. Your hair was messy, your lips slightly parted and your breathing was slow and even. 

You looked beautiful, so peaceful. Different from your usual chaotic self when you are awake. Part of the reason why you grew on him so much. You knew how to push his buttons, but you also knew how to calm him down (Especially when Scott gets on his nerves). You’d been his grounding force since the first day he showed up. 

He leaned over her, his arm bracing himself above you, resting on the headboard as he took in your features. For a long while, he’d been lost in himself. No memories of who he was, or what had happened to him so many years ago that haunts him in his nightmares. Through a series of unfortunate events, he got to discover what happened to him- and you held his hand the entire time. 

Stirring, you slowly opened your eyes, blinking a few times at first being unsure of what you were looking at until Logan’s face came into view. You smiled sleepily, 

“Lo.” 

“Hey baby.” He greets coos. It was then how it occurred to him, how lucky he felt to be able to have you to come home too. Home?

“Mm..” You groaned, stretching your arms above your bed, arching your back in a big stretch. 

“Hm, someone's sleepy.” 

You nodded, closing your eyes with your arms folded behind your head. Logan's eyes lingered downwards, noticing the strappy nightie you were sporting. “What time is it?”

“Late.” He says, his hand coming down to gently pull the blanket from you, exposing the upper half of your body to him, and he felt himself getting hard. The nightie you were wearing, a cotton white, with lace along the hem of the collar, a sweetheart neckline that perfectly accented your breasts. The nightie you had on wasn’t particularly sexy, but Logan was pent up. He’s had to use his hand, getting himself off to the thought of you nearly every night since he’d been gone. 

“How was your trip?” You asked, your voice pitched higher due to your sleepy state, a small yawn escaping you. He looked down at you with half-lidded eyes, 

“Fine. I missed you.” He mutters, leaning down to bury his face in the crook of your neck. Sounds of your sleepy mirth made him smile, and he began to press kisses over your shoulder. 

“I missed you too.” 

“Course ya did.” he mutters, and your hand smacked his, eliciting a warm chuckle from him. His hand came up, fingers hooking under the strap of your nightie, sliding it down your shoulder, as he pressed kisses downwards towards your chest. “This is a cute lil thing you got on bub. New?”

“Bought it for you.” You hummed. He sat up, looking down at you with a grin, and you were looking up at him with a sleepy smile. 

“That so?”

You nodded slowly, closing your eyes again, struggling to stay awake. He felt his dick twitch, watching your dozy form attempt to stay awake for him. He chewed on his lip, before returning to press kisses over the top of your chest again. One of your hands came up to curl into his hair, encouraging him to keep going. His lips pressed in the space between your breasts. 

“Baby, can I show you how much I missed you?” He asks, his voice low- tittering into begging. He looked up, watching your reaction and you nodded. 

He excitedly stood up, shedding his jacket- dropping the leather to the ground, and kicking off his boots before his hands came to unbuckle his belt, and unzip his pants. He pushed your comforter off, and you spread your legs for him, as he eagerly climbs onto the bed between them. He didn’t even bother taking his clothes off, as his lips met yours. 

He kissed you languidly, as you attempted to return the effort, but being half asleep as you were- it was fairly messy. He chuckled against your lips, nipping at them gently. “Someone sure is tired.”

“Uh uh.” You shook your head, brows creasing angrily with a small pout- but your eyes, shut tiredly, fought against your denial.

“Don’t worry about it bub, just enjoy the ride, I’ll take care of you. Show you how much I missed ya.” He purrs, pressing soft kisses to your cheek and back down to your neck. He nipped and sucked at your neck, creating small purple bruises, as his hand trailed down your side, lifting the hem of your pretty nightie up and his fingers traced your inner thigh, before reaching your folds. “Hm, no panties. Dirty girl.” 

“Mm. I did that for you. In case you came back.” You mutter. 

“You spoil me doll.” He mutters, leaning to press open mouth kisses along your jawline, up to your chin, as his fingers began to circle your clit, gathering wetness on them, as he rubbed you and opened you up. You took a sharp breath, as you felt pleasure begin to envelope you. You brought your hands up to your pillow, softly gripping them as you bit your lip. His fingers traced down your folds, reaching to your hole, and he carefully slid one finger inside you. “So tight baby, gotta open up for me.” 

Your hips lifted involuntarily as he began working you open, stroking his finger in and out of you, curling it to hit that sweet spot inside of you that made you moan, and your grip on your pillows tighten. 

“Lo-” You whined, 

“Shh, I know.” He hushed, pressing a kiss to your pouty lips. He slid another finger inside, moving them inside and out in a thrusting motion, before scissoring them open inside you, stretching you open and you gasped. 

“Lo,” You moaned again tipping your head to the side. He grunted, pulling his fingers out and sitting up. He pushed his jeans down, his hard cock came out, popping against his stomach, with dribbles of pre-cum rolling down it. He took himself in his hand, lubing himself up with your arousal and his pre-cum together as he stroked himself. 

“Fuck, hadn’t stopped thinking about you all week baby.” He groaned. 

Your relationship, while still new - had been nothing but passion, and trust. You and Logan just seemed to get each other without having to say a word. Communication wasn’t Logans forte, never was as he began to realize as memories of his long life slowly come back to him. A random scent triggers back to something distant, his childhood home. A song that reminds him of his time in the 70’s, with a woman who led him to become like his now, long since dead and gone. A sound of a low flying plane, reminding him of the wars he’d been apart of. It was a lot- the mind can only remember so much. You always were patient with him though, talked him through everything. He’s addicted to you.

Climbing forward, he pushed your thighs wider,  and lifted the skirt of your nightie to your belly, exposing your lower half to him. He felt saliva filling his mouth, the urge to taste you crawling up his spine, but his cock throbbed painfully and he decided that eating you out like you were a rare delicacy was going to happen later. He leaned over you, an arm braced by your head, his free hand pressing the tip of his cock into your hole, slowly pushing inside- a loud hiss escaping him at how tight you felt. 

“Mm!” You moaned biting your lip, you turned your head to the other side. You were still half asleep, aware of what was happening, but your sleepy state made all the pleasure Logan was giving you 10 times more intense, as you drifted in and out of falling asleep and waking up again. Your body felt limp, Logan resting over you keeping you warm like a blanket. If you hadn’t been talking to him first- you would’ve thought this was a dream.  A very wet dream.

He continued moving deep inside until he bottomed out, and he buried his face into your neck, his arms moving to wrap around you and hold you while he fucked you. His pace was slow at first, pulling out almost to the tip, before pushing back in - molding space for his cock inside you.

Your arms lazily wrapped around his neck, one hand burying into his thick curls, as you bit your lip, small whines escaping you with each thrust. You felt incredibly relaxed, being surrounded by him- his voice cooing in your ears, his scent overwhelming your nose, his cock stretching you open so wonderfully. Hitting that spot his fingers were rubbing just moments ago. You brought your legs higher up, wrapping them around his waist- desperately wanting him to stay buried deep inside you as he thrusted slowly. Being around Logan felt nothing but safe, which was something you’d always yearned for. Safety in your life, due to living in a world that hated who you were. 

Harsh pants escaped Logan, his hot breath on your neck as he began to thrust faster, he wrapped his arms around your waist, your hands burying into his hair. 

“Goddamn baby- you feel so good. So fucking good.” He groaned. He was rutting into you, barely pulling out. “So damn wet and tight- you’re all for me aren’t ya?”

You whined, desperately nodding your head as he kept hitting that spot inside you over and over. Your nails dug into his scalp, pulled at his hair, making him moan- then pain of your nails scratching him spurring him on as he began to go faster, his hips slamming into your thighs, lewd wet noises filling the room. 

“Logan-” You whined tipping your head back onto your pillow. He grunted, pressing his forehead into your shoulder. 

“Fuck.” He hissed. “Cmon baby, cum for me. I need you to cum- please-” He whined. Your legs were trembling, his deep thrusts leaving your body to start going numb. “You’re all mine, you know that? All fucking mine-” 

The tight thread pooling in your lower tummy snapped, as waves of pleasure shook your body, wetness splashing onto him, effectively soaking the both of you. You whined his name, arching your back towards him, and he bit down on your neck, thrusting inside you once more, before he let out a loud- very loud, cry of pleasure, panting as he came deep inside you, his warm cum painting your walls, so much of it that it begins to spill out of your hole, still stuffed with him. 

He collapsed against you, his cheek pressed against your chest, a small bit of drool escaping him as he recovered from the waves of euphoria that was still crashing through him. You body went limp, legs unwrapping from his waist, hands falling to either side of your head. 

“Fuck.” He hissed. “See what you do to me bub?” He slowly pushes himself up. Leaning forward to press his lips over yours. You hummed in response. He brushed some hair out of your face, pressing another kiss to your lips. “Lets get some sleep.” He mutters and you nodded. 

He started to pull out of you, but you whined. “Stay in.” You say. He chuckled. 

“You sure?” 

“Mm.” 

“Alright.” He wrapped his arm over your waist, turning to his back and bringing you with him, lying on his chest. “Comfortable?”

“Mm.” You nodded, now more sleepy than ever in your post-coitus haze. He pulled the comforter over the both of you, his hand softly scratching up and down your back, his other hand resting on your hip. Your cheek pressed to his chest. “Lo?” You mumbled. 

“Yeah?”

“You’re mine too, right?” You asks, you were drifting off to sleep, your voice barely a whisper, but he understood you.  

He smiled. “Yeah sweetheart. I’m all yours.” 

[mommyslittlebird]

You Look So Good (On Your Knees)

Voyeur!Mommy!Wanda x Daddy!Natasha x Reader

What was supposed to be just a weekly movie night quickly turns into something else when you catch a glimpse of something you weren’t supposed to see.

CW: Voyeurism, threesome, strap-on, flogging, orgasm denial (? A tiny bit?), caught in the act (once again a tiny bit), punishment, dacryphilia, degradation, hair pulling, choking (not really), reader calls WandaNat mommy/daddy

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: This is for @wandamaximoffsbadgirl. Thank you for all your help! I hope this was worth clawing your way under the door. Writing this (particularly the very end) has put me in a total WandaNat x Reader tailspin so expect some fluffy domestic stuff in the coming weeks.

A/N: I kinda sorta definitely double dipped for this fic, and it’s a spin of a different fic I did for a different fandom. But new fandom new crowd, and I figure almost none of you have read my non-marvel work. So the self-plagiarism is strong, but will probably go unnoticed anyway.

“Wanda? Natasha?” You called into the seemingly empty house.

It was Thursday night, your designated movie night with the couple: your long term friends and fuck buddies. They’d given you a key months ago. So, when you knocked and no one answered you just let yourself in.

You set down your bag in the living room, looking for them around the house. Their cars were both in the driveway. They had to be home. After investigating the first floor, you went upstairs. Maybe they were already in the bedroom waiting for you. That is where you always had your movie nights, after all.

You cracked the door open to find them both on the bed, Natasha underneath Wanda in an intense kiss. Natasha was grinding up against Wanda’s thigh, whining and breathless. You could tell by the way her hips were starting to falter, she was close. They must’ve been at this for a while. You didn’t want to interrupt.

You took a step back, trying to quietly shut the door. Maybe you could just wait downstairs until they finished. But before you could click the door fully shut, you heard Wanda’s commanding voice. “Not so fast, little girl.”

You sighed. You’d been caught. You opened the door back up, revealing Wanda pulling herself away from her wife. She looked at you with a cold glare, curling her fingers, instructing you to come to her.

She had you stand between her legs at the foot of the bed. “Did you not think to knock when coming into mommy and daddy’s room?”

“I-I knocked outside! I couldn’t find you! I was just looking for-“ you desperately tried to explain.

Wanda cut you off with a smirk. “Well, you found us.”

“I-I’m sorry,” you apologized. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“Oh but honey, you did interrupt,” Wanda explained condescendingly. “You interrupted and now daddy doesn’t get to cum.”

“W-what? No but she was so close! Please let her cum mommy,” you pleaded on Natasha’s behalf. You genuinely felt terrible. You knew what that kind of denial felt like and you would never wish it on anyone, especially not your daddy.

Natasha smiled when you jumped to her defense, joining you and Wanda at the end of the bed. She beckoned you over to her, quickly pulling you to sit on her lap. She wrapped her arms around your waist, whispering into your ear. “It’s okay, baby. You're gonna make daddy cum so good later, aren’t you?”

You whimpered, shivering against her. God, you had hoped movie night would start like this.

“But for right now,” Wanda started. “We’ve got to teach somebody a lesson about knocking, don’t we? It’s your fault daddy didn’t get to cum, so daddy should be allowed to punish you, shouldn’t she?”

You looked to Natasha, who just raised her eyebrows expectantly, and then you nodded. “Yes mommy.”

“That’s our good girl,” Wanda purred, running her hand down the side of your face and lightly pinching your cheek. “Now, daddy’s gonna get you all set up on the bench while mommy goes to get some toys, okay?”

They both stood almost synchronously. Wanda briefly disappeared into the next room while Natasha hoisted you up in her arms, laying you face down on the leather bench next to the bed. She propped the back part up so it turned into more of a seat.

Wanda came from the closet with a long black leather flogger, her implement of choice for this particular scene. She handed it to Natasha, who smiled and gave her a kiss. Wanda sat down next to you, propped up over a seat you were now straddling.

She wiped the hair from your face. “Ready?”

You nodded into the soft, plush leather of the seat. You could already feel yourself easily slipping into that fuzzy space, where all the thoughts, worries, and responsibilities became irrelevant.

Wanda smiled, noticing the way your eyes glazed over. “I need to hear you say it, angel.”

“Yes, mommy,” you said as clearly as you could muster.

Wanda ran the back of her hand down your cheek. You shivered. She was the only lesbian you’d ever meet who always wore acrylics. The sharp point of her stiletto nails on your face sent tingles down your spine. You closed your eyes, losing yourself to the sensation.

You felt the leather tassels of the flogger brush lightly against your back. You whimpered, squirming in your seat.

“You don’t have to count, honey,” Wanda soothed. “Just let go. Mommy and daddy are gonna take care of you. You don’t have to think about anything at all.”

With that you felt the first sharp sting of leather snap against your back. You let out a noise between a whimper and moan. Natasha started slow, each hit a distinct sensation on your back, but as she started to pick up the pace, the strikes became less distinct.

In less than five minutes, she’d made a mess of you. You whined and squirmed against the leather seat.

“Aww sweetheart,” Wanda cooed. “Do you need mommy to hold you still while daddy whips you?” Before you could answer, the blows stopped. 

“Nooo…” you whined. “Daddy keep going. Please I promise I’ll sit still. Please don’t stop.”

Despite your protest, you felt two strong hands pick you from your seat. “I’m not done, princess,” you heard Natasha’s soft voice say. “But you’ve gotta stop squirming or I’m accidentally going to hit you in the kidneys.”

You were lowered into Wanda’s lap, where your legs were forced wider apart in order to straddle her. It made it significantly harder to move. She locked her hand around your thigh to keep you in place. Her other hand gently massaged your hair. “That’s it honey. Mommy will make sure you stay nice and still.”

Her long nails against your scalp were almost enough to make the thoughts fly from your head. “But… But you’ll get hit.”

Wanda chuckled and kissed your temple. “Daddy has excellent aim, sweetheart. I’ll be fine. You don’t need to worry about anything at all.”

The leather cracked against your back again. It hurt more now that your back was already raw. If not for Wanda’s hand pinning you in place, you might’ve jumped off her lap entirely. You whined wrapping your arms around Wanda.

She cradled your head over her shoulder, gently shushing your cries as she watched Natasha bring the leather down against your back over and over again.

“Mommy…” you whined into her ear. You were trying to ride her thighs like you had ridden the leather seat, but the awkward position prevented you from getting any friction whatsoever. It wasn’t even until Wanda felt drops of warmth on her thighs that she realized why you were whining.

“Aww,” she hummed, “you’re making a bit of a mess on mommy’s lap, baby.”

“I’m sorry, mommy,” you mumbled into her shoulder. “I just… it feels so good.”

“All this just from a flogging, sweetheart?” She teased. She would’ve loved to tease you further, but she was genuinely afraid you’d accidentally hurt yourself if she stopped holding you in place, much less if she had her hand between your legs.

You blushed, burying your face into her neck. “Mommy…” you whined when the leather stung your back once again. “Mommy please…”

Wanda’s heart melted at your words. The combination of your pathetic voice begging her for relief and your frail body in her arms made her want to ruin you in a different way. You were just so vulnerable. It would be such a waste to not take advantage of you in this state. “Alright,” She cooed. “I think she’s learned her lesson, hasn’t she Tasha?”

Natasha chuckled, but she stopped her flogging. “Do you think she’s learned her lesson, or have you just gone soft for a ‘mommy please’?”

Wanda wrapped her arm around your back, long nails still masterfully massaging your scalp. She rocked you back and forth in her lap. “Oh come on Tasha, look at her: getting all pathetic and leaky in her mommy’s lap. Doesn’t it just make you wanna…”

“Throw her on the bed and fuck her into the mattress until the only things in her little head are mommy and daddy?” Natasha finished.

“Exactly,” Wanda smiled mischievously. It was such a marvelous thing that she married someone who was always on the same wavelength as she was.

You were promptly picked up out of Wanda’s lap from behind. You whined, reaching out for Wanda.

“Now now,” Natasha chided. “None of that. Mommy’s not going anywhere. She’s gonna be here with you the whole time.”

She guided you to kneel on the bed, nudging your legs apart. Almost instinctively, your hands were crossed at the wrist behind your back.

Wanda hadn’t exactly planned on binding your wrist, but when you sat so perfectly, so expectantly, she could hardly resist.

“Natasha, would you like to bind this little darling's hands for us?” She instructed.

Natasha smiled, eagerly grabbing a length of pink ribbon and getting to work on tying your wrists together. She so loved tying you up. While a simple figure 8 around the wrists would’ve done the trick, she decided instead on a more complex design that would bind you up to the elbow. She knew she had time. Wanda would require a thorough inspection before she’d let Nat fuck you.

Wanda ran a singular finger through your slit. Her cold rings and sharp nail bumped over your clit as she dragged her hand upward. The sensation caused you to jump and whimper. Wanda just chuckled, bringing her finger lightly up your body until it was at your lips. You took her finger obediently between your lips.

“Do you think your ready for daddy to fuck you, baby?” she asked. “Does this needy pussy want daddy’s cock?”

You nodded, trying not to wince as her rings made their way onto your tongue, filling your mouth with a metallic taste.

“Which of daddy’s toys do you want, huh?” She asked, intentionally pushing down on your tongue so you couldn’t talk. “I’ll think I’ll have daddy use the purple strap. The one with the- what did you call them- the ‘mean ridges’? The ones that scrap against your special spot?”

You whined around her finger, giving her the most endearing puppy dog eyes you could possibly muster.

“Oh sweetheart,” she cooed, “do you not like that one? Maybe you’d prefer it if daddy tied you to the chair and you watched her fuck mommy instead, hmm? Maybe you’d just prefer not to have any orgasms at all?”

You shook your head frantically. You wanted to protest, to promise you’d be good and take that dreaded purple strap, but you couldn’t speak.

She chuckled. “That’s what I thought, baby. You’re gonna be a good girl for mommy and daddy, aren’t you?”

You nodded. She pulled her finger from your mouth and tilted your head up to kiss you gently.

“That’s our sweet girl,” she praised. “Aw it looks like daddy’s finished tying you up all pretty. Can you say thank you to daddy?”

You craned your neck to the side, trying to see her behind you. “Thank you, daddy, for tying me up all pretty.”

Natasha laughed, pulling you back towards her by the ribbon. She kissed you and smiled. “You’re welcome, baby. Can you show mommy your pretty ribbon?”

You attempted to turn around to show Wanda the way your hands and arms were intricately bound behind your back, but Natasha pushed you forward into the mattress. You yelped, surprised by the sudden move.

“A present, wrapped special for you, my love,” Natasha said to Wanda, leaning over you to kiss her wife.

“You always know just what to get me,” Wanda breathed against her lips. “Now go get ready, love. I wanna watch you make our sweet little girl cry.”

Natasha climbed off the bed behind you, disappearing into the next room.

Wanda’s nails were against your sore back, rubbing soothing as you lay in wait. You attempted to sit up, but Wanda clicked her tongue. “No, baby,” she chided. “Stay just like this.”

You felt the bed dip as Natasha climbed back on behind you. Her calloused hands lifted your hips so you were kneeling tall. The angle forced your face even further into the mattress. You couldn’t put your hands out to hold yourself up with them tied up behind your back.

Natasha ran the tip of the strap up and down your slit, pulling a muffled moan from your lips. She lined the toy up with your entrance, gently easing it inside. She threw her head back and moaned as she felt each of the ‘mean ridges’ push into you, then she pushed your hips forward and pulled them back, silently commanding you to fuck yourself as you adjusted to her girth.

The toy was, admittedly, slightly too big for you to manage without any discomfort. The ridges cruelly raked against your inner walls, causing you to wince with each movement. But with time, you were able to adjust to feel only a slight, delicious stretch.

After you’d grown to a moderate pace, Natasha took over, grabbing your thighs and pulling them back to meet her own. You let your body go limp, allowing Natasha to control your movements completely. You were putty in her hands.

“Fuck, Wands you should see her from here,” Natasha groaned, looking down and watching the large toy disappear inside of you over and over again. “Fuck it’s like she swallowing me whole. Needy little cunt. Can’t get enough of daddy’s cock can you?”

You tried to bury your face into the sheets to muffle the noises she tore from you, but you were unsuccessful. Without your hands or your arms, your range of motion was severely limited.

Wanda’s eyes went wide and her face cracked into a smile when she heard the first hiccup of a cry. She leaned forward. “Tasha, hold her up. I want to see her face.”

Natasha reached down and grabbed your hair, pulling your head up so you were face to face with Wanda. She could see the build up of tears in the corners of your eyes and the way your bottom lip quivered, threatening to give way to a sob.

“Aww, sweet girl,” she cooed. “Are you going to cry for mommy? It’s okay angel, you can cry. Daddy’s not gonna stop fucking you even if you are going to be a sobbing little mess.”

Natasha fucked you harder, nearly pulling all the way out before she slammed back into you again. She kept your head up, forcing you to look at Wanda even as your eyes rolled back and your vision went blurry with tears. Natasha wrapped her hand around your throat, grabbing you just under your chin. She braced her forearm against your chest, pinning you upright against her.

The position only accentuated the effect of the ridges, causing them to bump more aggressively against the spongy spot inside of you. “Aww look at how pathetic you look, crying your little eyes out while daddy fills you with her cock.” Wanda teased.

You felt Natasha’s breath hot against your ear. “Tell mommy how pathetic you are.”

You offered little more than a whine in response. Your bottom lip continued to tremble as tears rolled down your cheeks.

“Aww, sweet girl, there’s no need to be embarrassed,” Wanda assured. “It’s just me and daddy.”

You weren’t truly embarrassed, if you were being honest. You honestly felt like a masterpiece: a carefully constructed vision that Wanda and Natasha had crafted you into. But you played coy nonetheless. You had more fun when Wanda told you how pathetic you looked anyway.

“Poor thing,” Wanda taunted, “never learned how to take a proper fucking without crying.” Her eyes never left yours. Everything about watching her wife handle your helpless body drove her wild.

“I’m sorry mommy… I can’t help it… daddy’s cock feels so good inside of me,” you panted.

Natasha felt a burst of heat in her own core. Between yours and Wanda’s words she could feel herself creeping towards the edge. She just needed a bit of a different angle. She released her hold on you, causing you to fall helplessly back into the mattress. Wanda gently turned your head, preventing you from muffling yourself in the sheets.

You cursed. The combination of Wanda’s gentle hands and the new angle that hit all your most sensitive spots had you so close to an orgasm. All it would take was just a little more pressure on your clit. Unfortunately, with your hands bound behind your back, you were completely at their mercy.

“Please…” you begged mindlessly. “Please don’t stop. Fuck daddy. Please never stop.” You felt so certain that if Natasha pulled out of you right now, you’d simply die on the spot.

“You want to cum on daddy’s cock so badly don’t you?” Wanda teased. “But you can’t touch yourself. Poor baby.”

Natasha changed her pace. She could feel her own orgasm building as she felt the pull of the toy’s ridges pumping in and out of you. “Beg for mommy to let you cum, baby. I wanna hear you begging like the little slut you are.”

“Fuck!” you sobbed. The words poured out of your mouth nearly as fast as the tears poured from your eyes. “Please I’m all yours. I’m mommy and daddy’s little slut. Please, you can use me whenever you want. I’m just a little toy for mommy and daddy. Please I just need daddy’s cock inside me forever. Mommy please let me cum.”

“That’s a good girl,” Wanda praised, “begging mommy and daddy to use you like a little toy. That’s all you are right? A toy for mommy and daddy’s pleasure?”

“Yes!” you chanted. “Yes! I’m mommy and daddy’s toy. Please let me cum. Please mommy.”

“I wanna see you cum on daddy’s cock. Can you be a good girl and cum on daddy’s cock for mommy?” She asked.

Natasha curled her arm around your waist, pinching your clit and milking it between her fingers. Your eyes rolled back and your mouth opened in a silent scream as you fell apart.

Natasha continued to fuck you as you came, clenching around the strap. The pulsing put the perfect amount of pressure on her own clit, sending her into an orgasm not long after you.

She steadied herself on your hips, taking a few deep breaths in an attempt to regain her composure. She pulled the ribbon, and Wanda watched in fascination as the entire thing unraveled itself. They both chuckled as your arms bonelessly flopped down beside you.

Natasha hooked her arm around your waist to prevent you from simply collapsing when she pulled out. She laid you gently on your side before climbing off the bed. She disappeared into the bathroom, leaving you with Wanda.

You whined as the toy left, suddenly feeling terribly empty. Wanda sat down on the bed next to you, chuckling again as she bent over to kiss your temple. “I know, love. It’s just devastating that daddy can’t stay inside you forever, isn’t it?”

You nodded, whining again as you felt her wipe away the remnants of your orgasm.

“You did so well for us, love,” she praised, adjusting your position on the bed so you rested against the pillows. She pulled up some blankets, smiling as you wiggled in blissful content. “Comfy, honey?”

You nodded, reaching your arms out for her.

She crawled into bed next to you, wrapping her arms around you. She kissed your forehead, earning herself a dopey, blissed out smile from you. She kissed your cheek, licking up what was left of a few salty tears. She moaned at the taste.

Natasha came out of the bathroom, freshened up in nothing but a pair or boxers. She joined you and Wanda in bed, crawling in next to you. She kissed the top of your head. “Are you girls ready for movie night?”

You nodded. “I already promised mommy she gets my movie night cuddles this time, though.”

“What the hell?” Natasha said jokingly, pulling you forcibly into her lap and berating you with kisses. “Daddy fucks you so hard you can’t think straight and mommy still get the movie night cuddles?”

You giggled, squirming out of her kiss attack. “You always fall asleep anyway!”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah. Because I just fucked you so hard you couldn’t think straight. You wear me out, little girl.”

“Fine, daddy cuddles until you fall asleep, and then mommy cuddles,” you compromise.

“That sounds perfect, princess,” Natasha smiled, kissing you briefly.

You looked to Wanda for her approval. She smiled. “Fine. You can cuddle with daddy for the 20 minutes she’s awake, and then you’re all mine for the rest of the night.”

You wrapped your arms around both of them, pulling them into a tight hug. “Deal.”

[pinkyqily]

TWO HOOLIGANS INLOVE | JuJu watkins x teammate!reader

Summary: Just you and juju acting foolishly in front of the press

Warning: fluff, use of yn a few times

A/n: This isn't accurate to the actually games so don't bite me, fic is apart of my new series called hooligans inlove this isn't the first part so watch out for that, if you have any juju requests send em my way if you have any feedbacks feel free to leave them happy reading readers 🌹

Usc had just won the game against uconn. You, juju, and Ray had been called for media. After a phenomenal performance from the three of you.

coach knew it was going to be crazy having you and juju up there, but with Ray too, she could only hope y'all would be on your best behavior.

"Now, before you guys head up there, I need you to be on your best behaviors. She told all three of you, "Come on, coach me and yn are good, juju just the problem here." Ray told coach while sending diggers towards juju way

"There's no way I'm getting blamed right now." JuJu yelled, losing her so-called nonchalant chil.

"Can we get going already? No one has time for you two idoits arguing." You told the two girls as you make your way to the conference room." Bro, hold on." You didn't have to turn your head around hearing your annoying girlfriend and teammate calling you, bro.

"Who are you calling bro Judea?". You said out as you stopped in your tracks, staring at juju with your arms crossed around your chest. Ray voice Intervene swinging her arms around you and juju.

"Come on guys, let's not argue."

"If she calls me bro one more time, it gonna end up with more than an argument." You told them both. JuJu, who knew what was best for her, stopped calling you bro but couldn't wipe away the stupid smirk on her face as you guys sat down.

The press was going well Juju and Ray made a few jokes here and there when answering questions until it was your turn to answer some Juju had decided now was the perfect time to be distracting you.

Anytime you got a question she would turn her whole head and body towards you as she looked deep in your eyes not taking off contact.

"So what do you think about this win against uconn and how we're you guys able to come back from previous games?" A reporter asked directing the question to you.

"Um the win was definitely a hard fought and we definitely brought in our all I think we're able to learn from our previous game against,

them on what to do and not to do-.you stopped mid sentence to say, "ju can you stop staring at me like your life depends on it." You told the girl as you guys secretly held hands under the table.

"I'm doing no such thing." She said after looking away.

"Whatever." You told her, but this time yanking your hand away from hers under the table only for her to grab it back

"Can y'all stop wasting the people's time?" Ray spoke up with a slight teasing tone, she was stuck sitting in the middle of two drunk inlove players while it was entertaining she didn't want to be no 3rd wheel

"Um, sorry for that interruption." cough cough as you did that while side eying juju.

"One last question for juju, what did you think of yn performance today and how she contributed to the team performance wise".

"I think that her performance today was topnotch, probably one of her best, she contributed a lot by getting really involved with defense and offensive if I can say so myself she brings a lot to the team when she can".

You found yourself starring back into juju eyes as she spoke there was always something about her that made you feel all warm inside you couldn't tell if it was because you haven't let her hand go or something else.

It felt like only you two were in the room, and that's until Ray voice brought you back to earth. "I think you both got staring problems at this point." She told you as the room erupt with laughter.

Anyone in there could sense the growing tension between you and juju. From the way you both spoke about each other to the not so subtle touches, anyone could tell you're both madly in love.

You guys got up heading back to the rest of them, team.

"Ugh, I can already see the edits coming about you two so nasty." Ray told y'all as she made a gaging sound.

"Oh please, they aren't that bad". You told her

"Not bad, juju was basically undressing you with her eyes, and you sat there eating it up."

"Not my fault that my girl a baddie." JuJu said as her hand brushed against yours. It was little things like this that got you worked up, and she knew it.

"At least I've been promoted from bro to my girl." You told both girls making them laugh.

Before you knew it, clips from the press were already going viral.

Some people called juju whipped sum saying, "You we're complaining even though you were down bad for juju too, people fighting about you guys being gf while others disagree and say you're a couple."

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

wake up call

Summary: Joel was looking forward to a blissfuly at least 10 hours of sleep after being on patrol non stop for a week. Confused after waking up after only a couple of hours he is beyond pissed once he finds out it's a lawnmower of all things that woke him up twenty years into the apocalypse. And he sure as hell is gonna let his neighbour know how he feels about that, no matter how good she looks in those leggings.

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem. reader

Wordcount: 2.2k

Raiting: T

Warnings: lawnmowers at 7 am, a very sleep deprived Joel Miller, yelling, yelling while naked, Joel being kind of a dick but making up for it, tension, flirting, one or two inappropriate thoughts, it's pretty tame tbh

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Full Masterlist // Joel Miller Masterlist

Joel was beyond exhausted. 

With a group of raiders getting a little too close to Jackson than they liked, the last week had been non stop patrol with only little sleep. 

But yesterday, finally, they had gotten the group taken care off and Joel had gotten home at 3 am, intending to not leave his bed until at least noon. He had checked on Ellie who was passed out asleep in her bed, the book she had been reading fallen out of her hands, now laying on the floor. He had picked it up, tucked her in and turned off the lamp on her bed side table, releasing a long, tired sigh as he made his way towards his room afterwards. 

Within fifteen minutes he had taken a quick shower, making sure to use the blackout curtains he had found in the basement a month earlier, before he passed out in his bed, in a blissful, dreamless sleep. 

A sleep that ended way earlier than he anticipated. With his eyes still closed, he turned from his belly on his back, eyes slowly blinking open with a frown. 

The red digits of the clock on his bedside table glaring at him at 6:58 am (or whatever time it actually was. The satellite to the clock probably having died a long time ago)

He threw an arm over his eyes, slivers of light coming though his curtains, the day outside slowly starting while he wanted nothing more than to fall back asleep. 

Why did he wake up?

Eyes dropping back closed, he was about to turn to his side, pulling his blanket up when he heard it. 

A noise. 

A low hum that he couldn’t place at first. 

He searched his brain, the noise somehow familiar much like the annoyance that came with it. 

A sound from another time. 

A time where he also tried to sleep in, only for his little girl to climb into his bed, equally grumpy about being woken up by the same noise he was hearing now. 

Back then it was the Adlers impeccable timing of mowing their lawn precisely at 7 am every Saturday morning, even though the could have done it any other day of the week. Still, instead of using the time they were at home all week while the rest of the population went to work, like clockwork, they would mow their lawn every Saturday at 7 am sharp. 

„What the fuck?“ He whispered to himself, turning his head towards the window as if he could see through the curtain what was going on outside. 

It was twenty fucking years into the end of the world, who was mowing their lawn at 7 am on his day off?

With a mood worse than when Tommy had crashed Joel’s first car before the outbreak he got out of the bed, naked as he had fallen asleep with a groan, stomping towards his window. He ripped the curtains apart, eyes squinting from how bright it was on this summer morning already when his eyes finally fell on who was the culprit in his sleepy plans. 

You. 

His new neighbour. 

He had seen you in passing a couple of times since you got here. 

Maria had told him you had fled from a year long capture of some slavers, urging him to take it easy on you and not be his usual asshole self with being new neighbours and all. 

He had scowled all the way back home.

It had not been his fault that the men who had lived in your house before had been a fucking creep. He had to punch him in the face. Really. 

Taking a deep calming breath he looked down towards your backyard now, his bedroom window facing it, giving him the perfect view on whatever the hell you were doing. 

He noticed that the garden looked well taken care off now, not like the jungle like garden he had in the back of his house. You had cut down some trees, getting rid of some bushes. There were some flowers blooming close to the fence, but in the middle was you. 

Wearing what looked like leggings and a baby pink tank top, pushing a fucking lawnmower through the knee high grass. 

The picture was so foreign to him, he forgot why he was mad for a second. 

It was the lawnmower throwing him off, of course. Or the way you seemed to have no idea how to mow the lawn in the first place, going through your garden in pure chaos. 

It wasn’t you in that outfit that hugged every curve of your body like a second skin. It wasn’t the way he could see the sweat running down your neck even from how far away he was standing as you pushed the mower through your garden. And it definitely wasn’t how your ass looked when you bend down to reach for something, his cock twitching in interest he ignored. 

No.

It was the fucking lawnmower.

Before he knew what he was doing he had ripped the window open. 

„What the fuck are you doing? You want us all to get killed just to have an English fucking lawn?“ He yelled loudly, internally cringing at the way he saw you jump before your head snapped towards him. The noise of the lawnmower stopped and you brought one of your glove covered hands up to shield your eyes from the sun as you looked up. 

He didn’t see the way your eyes widened to not only see him, but to see him as naked as the day he was born standing in his bedroom window. 

„Good morning to you too!“ You yelled back and Joel felt a muscle twitch in his jaw. 

„Stop this fucking nonsense, or I will,“ he said with a huff and now he saw you roll your eyes. 

„Just so you know, I got permission to use it form the council. Fixed the lawnmower myself,“ you said almost proudly, your eyes finally drifting away from his impressive manhood, looking at his garden. 

„Think your garden could use it too,“ you said, before you looked up at him again. 

„I mean it, stop it, or I will,“ he warned before he closed his window and the curtains again. His heart was beating wildly in his chest, his breathing rapid as he tried to calm down, agitated about the audacity of the woman living next to him. 

And what if she had the permission for this nonsense? But to do it at 7 am? 

He released a long breath before he padded over to his little ensuite bathroom, doing his business before he got back into bed, intending to fall back asleep again when the noise outside started again. 

He could let this go. Turn around, hide his head under his pillow and fall asleep. 

Hell, he slept through much worse things since the outbreak started and even before. 

Instead he got up, threw the curtains and window open and yelled:

„Get that fucking thing off!“ 

This time you didn’t even look at him. But you did react, holding one of your hands up, giving him your middle finger while you continued to mow the lawn, seemingly without any plan what you were doing. 

„Fuck this,“ he hissed to himself, before he turned away from the window and searched for his clothes. 

You were getting the hang of this thing, when you saw something move beside you. Turning your head around your eyes widened when you saw your neighbour walk towards you, this time dressed, but no less handsome. 

Making sure to turn the lawnmower off you took a deep breath before you turned fully towards him, ready to argue with him some more when he held one of his hand up in surrender. 

„Let me mow the fucking lawn so I can go back to sleep. I got home from patrol at 3 am. I just wanna sleep and I can’t do this with whatever it is you think you’re doing here,“ he said and your mouth dropped open in offence, ready to argue with him when you noticed the dark circles under his eyes. 

You had heard about the group of raiders that had been threatening the town these last weeks. And you knew you neighbour Joel Miller, even though you hadn’t really talked to him before, was in charge of leading patrol. 

And yeah, maybe it was a dick move to test the lawnmower at 7 am but the last week had been so hot and you had been so excited to finally got the permission to try it out, since construction was working outside of the wall today and would be able to keep an eye on anyone who could have heard you make this noise that you wanted to take care of this before the heat got worse. 

„I’m…. It’s okay. I’ll stop. I didn’t realise….“ you stumbled over your words and Joel stepped closer, making your breath hitch as you tilted your head up to look at him. 

„Please. As an apology. Lemme mow your lawn,“ he said, head tilted as he looked down at you with those big brown eyes and you felt yourself take a step back, almost stumbling over your own feet when he gave you a small smile. 

Joel on the other side flexed his fingers as he walked past you before his hand gripped the handle of the lawnmower, knuckles almost turning white as he inhaled the soft scent of lavender you carried with you. 

„I’ll…. I’ll get you some coffee,“ you mumbled and he raised one eyebrow as he looked at you, already feeling the sweat run down his back from the way the sun was burning down at him. 

„You have coffee?“ He started the lawnmower and you nodded. 

„Might make me less of an asshole once I had one,“ he joked, winking at you and you felt yourself smile while your cheeks flushed. 

„That’s all it takes? A coffee to tame the asshole?“ You teased and his shoulders shook with a huff. 

„I said might. Guess we gonna find out once I had it,“ he said before he turned his head from you and started going in straight lines through your garden. 

And you watched him. Watched him as you walked inside. Watched him as you made the coffee. Watched him as you cut down a piece of the lemon cake you had made the day before. Watched him as he pulled at the front of his shirt to wipe away some sweat from his forehead giving you a nice view of the chest and the little trail of hair leading down towards his groin< you had seen earlier when he yelled down at you. 

You set everything up on the small table on your back porch, thankful that it sat under a tree, giving you some shade. 

Faster than you would ever been he was finished with the whole yard, rolling the lawnmower towards the little shed you had found it in before he walked towards your house and up to your back porch. He was sweating profusely and for some reason you thought about how it would taste when you liked it off of him. 

Shaking your head you smiled thankful at him when he let himself sit down across from you, reaching for the coffee. 

„Fuck, that’s good,“ he moaned after the first sip of coffee and you clenched your thighs at his tone. 

„Good enough to get rid of the asshole?“ You asked with a smirk and he shook his head with a small grin. 

„I’m sorry for yelling. I’d say I’m not usually like that but I’d be lyin’“ he said and you laughed. 

„At least you’re honest,“ you said and he sighed, reaching for the piece of cake, before he almost inhaled it. 

„Fuck, that was delicious,“ he groaned and you smiled. 

„I’m glad. It’s a sorry and a thank you,“ you said and he nodded, before he got up with a groan. 

„Just doing some neighbourly things. Don’t have the best track record with being a people person,“ he shrugged as he walked down your back porch. 

„Still, thank you. You got it done much faster than I would and now you can go back to sleep and I promise I won’t wake you,“ you smiled as you followed him. 

„Much appreciated, darlin’,“ he said. 

You sucked your bottom lip in as you looked after him. 

„Though if you feel the need to yell at me again, do it from your bedroom window again…“ You said and he turned to look at you, frowning.

„I enjoyed the view,“ you winked and it took a couple of seconds before his eyes widened, finally realising he had been completely naked and you most likely got a full view of his junk. 

He gulped, before he hummed. 

„That so?“ He asked and you nodded. 

„I’ll keep that in mind, darlin’“ he winked with a small smirk, before he made his way back to his house where he took a shower and moaned your name as he jerked off thinking about what your body looked like beneath the tight clothes you had been wearing today. 

Before he finally, finally got to bed and slept. 

[shurisneakers]

hey I wanna say I absolutely love your writing ,English is not my first language but your writing cracks me up every time I absolutely adore your work! I wanted to throw in an idea for misery loves company because I really like the grumpy×grumpy ,what about them being loners/grumpy in a wedding,maybe it's Steve's or someone else on the team and they share a quiet dance on the balcony or something so yeah that's my idea ,again love your works ♥️♥️♥️♥️

a/n: hello! thank you for your kindness and for sending this in, I hope you like it <3

this is part of misery loves company but is just a stand alone fic. you don’t need to read anything before this

warnings: swearing, light angst

You slip out before the first toast.

The balcony is quiet, the air sharp against your skin. Below, the city hums, distant and indifferent. The music is still loud behind you, but out here, it’s muffled, softened by the wind.

You don’t belong inside.

The thought comes unbidden, bitter in your mouth.

So the balcony is cold, the air sharp against your skin. The city sprawls below, distant and untouchable. The music inside is muffled now, voices blending together, champagne bubbling in glasses. It’s still too loud.

You lean against the railing, fingers gripping the cold marble. You tell yourself it doesn’t matter. That you don’t care.

You exhale, press your palms against the railing, giving yourself five seconds before you call an Uber to get home.

Behind you, the door creaks open.

"You gonna jump?"

You hear the shuffle of his shoes against the floor as he leans beside you.

You close your eyes. "Go back inside. Make someone else's night worse."

"Yours already looks terrible, I've got a headstart," Bucky says, stepping up beside you.

You don’t turn, but you can feel him watching you, his presence taking up too much space in a very spacious balcony.

"You left early," he grunts out.

"So did you," you mutter.

"Yeah," he says. "People started looking at me like they wanted to ask me to dance."

You scoff. "You just think everyone’s in love with you."

"You're not proving me wrong," he points out.

"You're the most insufferable man I know."

"Honoured."

You finally glance at him. His tie is loose and he looks like he wants to be anywhere but here.

"Why are you out here?"

Your grip tightens on the railing. "Why are you?"

You know he sees it.

"You gonna actually answer," he says coolly, "or are we going to keep doing this?"

You exhale sharply, looking ahead. "DJ’s shit."

"It’s a live band."

"Then they should’ve hired a DJ."

His mouth twitches, but his eyes don't move off you.

"Try again."

"No," you say flatly.

He tilts his head at you, expression unreadable.

It makes you feel like your skin is on fire. Weddings are hard. Weddings with him around are even harder, for reasons you can't put words to.

A beat passed and he finally pushes himself away from the railing.

You're about to make some biting comment, when instead--

"Dance with me."

You blink. "Are you concussed?"

"Not recently."

You scoff, crossing your arms. "If this is some kind of sympathy thing-"

"Jesus," he mutters. "Yeah, I wanna pity dance with you, that's exactly what's happening here."

"Then what?"

He shrugs, "You think you're the only one who's angry?"

Your jaw tightens, teeth harsh against each other.

"We don’t have to talk," he mutters, like he's tired. Like things are hard for him too. "Just dance with me."

You stare at him, skeptical. He stares back, unbothered.

Instead, you grab his hand, passive-aggressive, like the universe owes you something for putting him in your life.

"Step on my feet, I break your kneecaps."

"For the record, I was a good fuckin' dancer."

"There is not one person left alive that can corroborate that," you scoff.

It's a joke, but you're acutely aware that maybe it's exactly why this is hard for him.

He pulls you in, a little stiff, like neither of you actually know how to do this anymore.

The music filters in from inside, something soft, but the two of you aren’t moving right to it.

He sways, slow and easy, like it makes all the sense in the world.

It pisses you off that somewhere, it starts feeling that was for you too.

"You're terrible at this," you mutter.

"So are you," he grumbles.

You scoff. "You said you were good at dancing."

"Yeah, well," he exhales, "people say a lot of shit."

You roll your eyes, but you don’t let go.

Neither does he.

The wind picks up. His palm presses a little firmer against your back. You don’t know what to do with that.

"You think you’re mad now," he mutters, "just wait ‘til I do this."

You frown, "What are you plann-"

You barely have time to react before his lips brush against your forehead.

It’s quick, warm, and a little unpracticed, like he thought about it too hard but did it anyway.

Your fingers tighten against his shirt. Not because you want to hold on. But because you don’t know what else to do with your hands when something shifts in your chest.

"Jes—"

"Shut up," he says, and it's the closest you've heard him come to pleading. "Five more minutes."

The words sit between you, heavy and unspoken.

You don’t know if he’s talking about the dance or something bigger.

Five more minutes.

Like you’re not running out of time. Like something in the world could belong to you, even if just for a little while.

You close your eyes. Breathe him in.

And five minutes stretch on longer than they usually do.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Look, Don't Touch 3

Warnings: this fic includes noncon/rape, stalking, breaking and entering, possible blood and violence, and femcel energy. Tags are not exhaustive and more may be added as the series progresses.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You get bored of watching and that makes you careless. (dark!reader)

Characters: Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes

Note: my back hurts.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.<3

Love you all like snakes love Woody’s boots. Take care. 💖

Bucky's snores roll through the apartment. He's just as irritating asleep as he is awake. Your back racks and your legs cramp as you slump in the chair. Your eyes droop now and again only the roll open and flick to the blue digits of the clock. 

The minutes tick by like hours. His peaceful tempo irks you. It adds to the restlessness of your captivity.  

You don't blame him entirely. You're a dumb fucking bitch. Why didn't you do some scouting before you waltzed in? Wait it out to make sure it's clear. 

You go back and retrace your steps, over and over. Fuck. You're so stupid. So stupid. But not as stupid as that fucker thinks. 

Or as weak. 

He has that chip on his shoulder. He thinks his trauma overrides everyone else's. That no one else has been through shit. What you've been through you don't fucking think about because it's not worth it. He doesn't realise he's wasting his energy being such a miserable shit. 

You stare through the window for a while. The city sparkles here. Not like in your apartment where it blares like a broken television. 

Your head sinks down as your fatigue clouds your obstinacy. Your eyelids meet and your body slackens as much as it can within your bounds. The last look at the clock read about 3am. 

Your mind swirls in a miasma. Thick and viscous. Your skull thumps like sledge on concrete. Then all at once you're awake and shivering. 

The ice cold water seeps into your clothes as you gasp and gulp. Your lashes are webbed with moisture as you drip with the frigid rivulets. Bucky chuckles as a bucket hangs from his grip. 

"Morning sunshine." 

Your teeth chatter as you sneer back at him. You glance over at the city skyline. It's still a dusky mix of grey and blue. 

"0500. Up and at 'em," he proclaims chipperly. 

You shut your mouth and bite down on your shivers. This is what he wants. He's trying to break you. Well it's not gonna happen so soon. You've seen the videos on the dark web. You won't be scared by this emo bitch.  

"Gotta keep a routine." He taunts. 

You roll your eyes. Your gaze catches on the shine on the floor. You must've been out like a light. There's plastic under you. Maybe not just for the water. Well, you're not squeamish. 

"I usually start with a run. What do you do when you crawl out of your hole at one in the afternoon? Probably just the thought of Steve gets your heart pumping," he grits. 

"It helps," you snicker. "I've seen the real thing so... I'm certain my imagination is much better. The vibrator too." 

"Fucking smart ass," he mutters and stomps away. 

It's not a victory but it isn't defeat. You can match his energy, even if he's got you tied up like a dog. You wiggle in seat as that thought tickles something in you. You're twisted just like he said but he doesn't get to do that to you. Only Steve.  

He shuffles around in the bedroom. He emerges in track pants and a long sleeve tee. The legs are a bit too long for him. Steve's got a few inches on him, probably in more way than one. 

"I'll do about an hour," he taps on his watch. "Now you don't go getting into trouble." 

He scoffs and heads for the door. You tempo your breath as the goosebumps prickle over you in waves. Your clothes are soaked through. The door snaps shut and you huff. 

There's not much you can do. You close your eyes again. You're not going to sleep but you'll save your energy. As you languish in the slow drip of water pattering onto the plastic, your clothes grow stale and tepid. The wet fabric is sandpaper on your skin. 

He returns, whistling. He doesn't acknowledge you as he sets up in the kitchen. He puts his earbuds in the case and lets his music blast from the speaker. It's the kind of rock music a teenager listens to when they try to show off. 

You don't move. You're not going to let him see you squirm. He rattles around in the kitchen. 

"Gotta get lots of protein after a workout," he calls through as a pan sizzles. The aromas crawl over you and fill your lungs. Your tongue floods with saliva. "Lots of eggs, bacon, hm, oh Steve got the good greek yogurt." 

You don't answer his mocking monologue. You know what he's doing. Well if he thinks you've never gone hungry, that's his own martyr complex fueling his ego. 

He comes out with a full plate and sits across from you. He plants his feet wide, his plate in one hand as he shovels greedily with the fork. He stuffs his mouth and hums. 

You watch him calmly. He smirks and keeps pigging away on the food. There's enough for both of you and then some. You grimace. 

"How are you feeling? Hungry?" He asks. 

"Repulsed. You have grease on your chin." 

He pokes his tongue as he try to lick it up. You nearly gag at the remnants of food in his mouth. You don’t, you won't, look away. 

"I can hear your stomach," he says through a mouthful. "And your heart. Your lungs, too." 

"Yeah, I know you're a freak. Do you even know how the Russian fucks mangled you or did that go out the window with all the murder?" 

He gnashes his teeth down and narrows his eyes. His smile faded. It's your turn to grin. 

"Real fucked up from what I saw. There were some leaked classified docs after that weirdo Sokovian went off and planted those bombs." You tisk. "Children? Really? That's really der--" 

He's fast. Well, he is a super soldier. In an instant, he's in front of you, the plate is on the floor, and the fork is standing in your thigh as pain sears through your muscles. 

You yipe then muffle it to a groan. You take a deep breath as your lashes flick and you stare at the blood staining around the tines. You exhale through your lips and look at him. You don't stop smiling. 

You cackle, "hoooooo, I got you, Buck. I fucking got you." 

He stands straight and kicks the plate, scattering whats left of the eggs and bacon. He stomps away and balls his fists, grumbling and snarling. You laugh if only to keep from whimpering. 

There's pain beneath the swell of adrenaline. It's going to really hurt in a few minutes but right now, you feel great. You're awake. 

📷

Bucky appears again. His hair is damp and his skin is speckled with the aftermath of a shower. He has only a towel around his waist. Are you supposed to be impressed? 

He doesn't say a word as he moves around the apartment. He goes to the windows and looks out at the city. You stare at the couch dully. You're getting bored and your leg is throbbing. 

He circles around as you raise your brows, biding off the fatigue. Suddenly, he's behind you. He reaches around a rips the fork free. You grunt as blood pools up and spreads further along the denim.  

He wipes the tines on your sleeve, "I didn't get the artery, in case you're scared." He strides around and twirls the cutlery, "strange cause judging by your pulse, you're pretty fucking content with yourself." 

"Ha, is that what you want, hm?" You pout mockingly. "You wanna make a girl's heart race. Poor widdle winter baby don't got no place in this world. He wants to be wanted--" 

"You talk a pretty big game for someone as tiny as you are." He comes around and bends to look you in the eye. "What do you got going on? Who's going to even know you didn't make it home?" 

You hiss through a gritted smile, "you say that like I care. I've been pretty honest with you and myself. Maybe try a bit of introspection." 

"There's different types," he backs up and sits again. "The quiet ones. The violent ones. The talkers. Now, there's different kinds of talkers. The ones who threaten, then there's the ones who ramble. They talk so they don't gotta feel--" 

"You got me, Mr. Barnes. I'm so fucking scared of you I'm gonna piss my pants. You wanna watch again?" 

He chortles, "there ya go." 

"There I go." You sneer. "What's the game plan here, buddy? Starve me out? Think it'll happen before baby boy gets back? You gonna save some for him? Let him know you saved his ass. For once it wasn't the other way around huh?" 

"Shut up." 

"Or maybe that's a bad plan, huh? Steve might lose his shit a little. Realise he's not untouchable. I mean, a worm like me crawled right in--" 

"I said shut up," he snips. 

"You said it, I'm a talker. I gotta talk so I don't shake in my boots. Must feel like a big man. I mean I don't got Hydra juice in my veins and you could snap me like a twig," you scoff. "It's gotta make you a little hard." 

He tilts his head and squints, "you ever think of anything else?" 

"Don't worry, you're not in here," you nod your head. "It's all for the Captain. Second best again, sergeant." 

"You can't help yourself," he leans his elbows on his legs. 

"Well, I broke in, didn't I? Pretty clear I'm a bit off--" 

"No fucking shame." 

"It's really weird, don't you think? We only talk about shame when it's a woman. Men, they can do whatever the fuck they want and they're called outgoing and brave or committed, whatever." 

"Cut that shit," he snips. 

"It's true. But maybe that's not what this is. Maybe this is something else. Something more personal. Maybe you're jealous," you try to shrug. "The winter bozo got no fans to stalk him. Mm, sad." 

He stares at you then his gaze falls to your leg. He stands up and marches off. No answer. Typical. That's the thing about men, they can't admit when they're wrong. Can't own up to their faults but everyday a woman has to pay penance for just existing. 

He stomps back to you and slaps his hand down on your injured leg. The burning sensation of his palm tears a yowl from your and you look down as thick grains of salt tumble out between his fingers. He mashes the salt into your wound. You gnash your teeth and grunt. 

"FUUUUUUUCKKKKKKKK!" You seethe through your clamped jaw. 

He laughs, "this is kinda fun." He puts his forehead against yours. "And I can't help but agree with you, doll. Why the fuck am I fighting my programming?" He squeezes your leg and you wheeze. "Let's get nice and cozy with the soldier. He's got all the good ideas." 

You snort and twitch, halfway between agony and amusement. You push against him and snap your teeth. 

"Finally, something interesting." You rasp. 

He smirks and pushes of you. You groan as he turns cracks his neck. He tosses the salt onto the plastic sheet. You watch his metal hand open and close. 

He spins and struts into the kitchen. He comes back with your notebook. A strike of rage swells in you. Fuck. 

He stands in front of you and licks his fingertips. He clears his throat and flutters through the pages. 

"'I went to his place. It's nice. Different than being outside. His bed is big, it's a wonder he never fucks in it. Seems like Cap is afraid of commitment.'" He guffaws. "You really think you know him?" 

"Stream of consciousness." You utter. 

"Sure," he skims the lines on the pages. "'I think I had my biggest O in his bed. Just with my fingers. I could smell him around me. If I closed my eyes, he was there--'"  

He shifts and the towel twitches. Your lips slant. Disgusting. 

"Do you really think he'd want to touch something like you?" 

"I can draw a line between fact and fiction. How about you?" You chirp. "You can't even remember how many innocent people you killed--" 

"It's getting old," he growls.  

"Maybe Stevie won't want a piece. I'm not delusional, just obsessive. But you-" you nod to his crotch. "Seems like you're getting a bit too into this." 

He lowers the notebook and grins. "You ever actually fucked a guy?" 

"What does it matter?" 

"Is that it? You think Steve wants to pluck the flower in your dusty little garden?" 

"It was never--" you huff and wiggle in the chair. "Look, you don't get it. It was never supposed to be real. It's like a TV show. A distraction. Something to do." 

"Wow, that's sad." 

"Yeah, but it's the truth. A lot of people can't face themselves in the mirror." 

"Oh virtue," he scoffs and throws the notebook on the couch behind him. "Is it honesty or self-pity?" 

"Bit of both." You look up defiantly as he steps closer. "Look at me. I know what I am. I'm a creep but I don't deny it. What you are, you can't even say it out loud." 

He exhales and his chest compressed. He puts his hands on his hips as he glowers at you. His towel tents and you frown. 

"Dude, get that away from me." 

"What's the matter? Is this the closest you've been?" He taunts. 

You lean back and keep your eyes up, "I've seen a dick. Touched a few even. Trust me, I'm not interested." 

"I could put on the suit. There's a back-up in his closet." 

"Nasty." 

"Look who's talking," he retorts. "You think I'm fucking serious?" 

"I know the things you're capable of, soldat." You challenge. 

His eyes flare and his knuckles flash across your vision, bone snapping against your cheek. You close your mouth as it floods with iron. You swallow the blood and wiggle a back tooth with your tongue. You snicker. 

You face him as the swelling thrums hotly under the surface. He glares back at you. You lean back and round your eyes. You've never been good at that cutesy shit. 

He smirks, "keep going, baby. We'll see who breaks first." 

You lower your lashes and sniffle. He hovers and you steel yourself. You lurch forward and open your mouth. The chair tilts with your weight and you bite through the cotton as your teeth meet the towel. You pinch something beneath it. Him. 

He exclaims and punches your head. He grunts as the chair tips and falls on its side. Your head bounces against the chair. The towel heaps next to you as he growls and cradles his erection. 

"The fuck? You are deranged!" 

"I told you to move back," you slur as silver stars spatter across your vision.  

"Fucking bitch," he hisses and leaves you on the plastic. You laugh until it fades into a dry crackle. You hit your head pretty good and he got a few good shots in too. 

[pacofprunes]

KEEP YOUR EYES ON THE PRIZE

DARK CONTENT inho x reader

warnings — noncon, cockwarming, guns, squid game stuff

i’m begging you. if you don’t fuck with noncon and you hate it so much, then don’t fucking read this. 18+

a whole waterfall coming down your face, lip quivering, biting back your sobs. he said he’d make it even worse if you made a sound. so you decide to replace the sobs that you couldn’t let out with heavy breaths. you were about to start hyperventilating. legs tied to his, he was balls deep in you, forcing you to cockwarm him with your arms tied behind your back. god, you felt like you were gonna puke. you feel his cold gloves slide under your tracksuit jacket and onto your bare stomach, making you shiver.

“what’s got you so tense? are the games getting boring?”

you shake your head no, and he shifts under you. you know he did it on purpose, it wasn’t done to get comfortable, it was done to fuck with you. feeling his dick move in you and feeling yourself clench around him. you hated it. he laughs lightly before moving his head into your shoulder to get a better view of the games. he squeezed your arm with one of his hands, the other still wrapped around your stomach. you had to watch all these people die, you put your head down. this was sick. he was sick. he lets go of your arm and grabs your chin, lifting it to make you keep watching.

“keep your eyes up. this is nice of me, no? i could pick up this gun right now and shoot you just like them. it won’t hurt me. i still got what i want.”

he moves his hand from your chin and taps the gun on his table. you hadn’t even noticed it until he said something. he picks it up for a second, wiggling it at you tauntingly before putting it back down. he runs his hands through your hair and wraps his arms all around you, pulling your back right into his chest. you don’t know how, but somehow that made his dick go even deeper, and you quickly try to lift yourself up off of him, despite your legs being tied down to his own. he quickly grips your hips and pulls you back down before slapping you on the inside of your thigh, hard, causing you to flinch up and bounce on his dick, immediately you pause and suck the air through your teeth, more tears dribbling down, all while hearing a low dark laugh from behind you. an evil man you thought was your friend. a man you thought you could trust.

“yknow,”

he grabs a glass of whine from his table and presses it to his lips.

“you’d think you’d be happy.”

he moves the glass to sit on your thigh, a quiet way of telling you to stay still. wouldn’t wanna spill it on his nice suit after all.

“i mean, instead of running the risk of getting shot, now you just have to stay here and run the risk of not pleasing me.”

you swallow hard, your chest rising up and down quickly still as you try to keep your head up to watch these sick games, the whole time you’re looking for gihun and your group, hoping they’re okay. he moves the glass off your thigh and blindly presses the glass to your lips. you move your head away and the wine spills on you, painting the once green jacket completely red. it was the only safety net that you had that he allowed you to keep. that stupid jacket covered in blood and now wine. it was gross, but at least you weren’t completely bare. it didn’t stop him from touching you though, clearly, but it gave you some sort of comfort. he sighs before putting the glass back on the table and you tense more as he rubs his hands up your arms, scared of what was to come next.

“so? what’s going on in that head of yours?”

you take a deep breath before finally speaking to him.

“you’re a liar.”

he simply laughs and he moves once again, making you squeeze your eyes shut and you bite your lip.

“i want to go.”

“you’d rather play the games?”

you slowly nod your head and he hums before you hear something on his table move and something pressed against your back. you try to twist yourself to look behind at him, but he simply grips your arm, sending a threat your way to turn back around towards the tv and you obey.

“let’s play a game then.”

you hear the sound of a gun cocking and he presses it back to you and that’s when you knew what was pressing against your back, causing you to whimper.

“what? i thought you wanted to play.”

“i—”

he moves the gun away from your back and up to your neck and you choke on your words. you feel his hand shift before you hear the loud bang of the gun, causing you to scream, thinking that the bullet went through your head as you sob out, choking on your own tears. coughing everywhere and your chest heaving. he wraps his arm around your neck and pulls you into his back again cutting off some of your air flow and rests his other arm with the gun onto your exposed lap. you felt his cock twitch in you, but any other sensations were dulled out from the fear you were in. it had all felt almost numb.

“you still wanna play the games?”

he positioned the gun under your chin, lifting it up and you let out a choked up ‘no’. he decides to remove it and you finally stop holding your breath. he moves it in front of your face and waves it slightly before placing it back on the table beside him, but it didn’t comfort you in the slightest. your chest was stil heaving and the beads of sweat dripping down your forehead didn’t slow down in the slightest. you hear him sigh behind you before sitting up straighter and doing the slightest movements and the slowest thrusts in you. you immediately start moving your wrists in the restraints, straining to free them, throwing your head down and trying to squirm away and free your legs from his. he just holds the sides of your arms tightly, definitely bruising them under his gloved hands and he continues to grind under you, a small laugh coming from him as he feels you clench around him and he moves his gloved hand from your arm to the inside of your thigh, squeezing it before he sticks a gloved finger in you, lying right next to his dick, stretching you even more and finally a loud sob finds its way out of your throat and escapes your lips. he removes his finger and rubs a few circles on your clit, living for the feeling of you clenching around him before he moves his finger up the inside of your thigh, covering it in your slick. he wraps his arms around you again, pressing you against his chest as you continue to sniffle and let out small cries. he simply runs his hand through your hair and moves a hand to grope your boobs under your tracksuit. feeling that you’re so tense, he runs his hands up your sides and your waist, as if that was going to make you relax at all.

“i told you earlier that being here was better because all you had to do was run the risk of not pleasing me.”

he suddenly grips his fingers as tight as possible into your hips.

“so i’d suggest you start moving instead of trying to be so still unless you want me to pull the trigger next time i pick the gun back up.”

[ww2yaoi]

as of today, february 2nd, ww2yaoi turns one year old! I initially made this blog to promote my mota fic (which I thought absolutely no one would read) so the first thing I ever posted here was a link to my second clegan fic I wrote. that post got 3 notes (maybe even less at the time) but that fic is now my most popular ever at over 1k+ kudos on ao3!!! just goes to show you never know what's gonna happen...

this year has been a rollercoaster in terms of my interests. going from mota/clegan mania in the first part of the year to my insane web(gott) breakthrough around april when I read parachute infantry for the first time. then these last few months I've been so pacific pilled it's not even funny (sidsledge nation there are dozens of us!! dozens!!!). from the spring to the end of the summer I wrote about 90k of unreleased webgott fic then eventually started posting some other stuff on ao3 again (thank you for your support as always <3333) and although I've been on a bit of a fic posting hiatus lately, there are things in the works... trust

to celebrate my blog's bday, I thought I'd highlight some of my fave things I've made for this blog over the past year. because I have made A LOT of bullshit. this blog has been a passion project of mine and a great creative outlet. even if it's lowkey kind of stupid it takes a lot of effort and love to be this stupid :P here we go...

my fave edits I’ve made: joespresso, this artifact of ron livingston summer, uptown webgott, supercut webgott, winnix lovesickness, sidsledge pop girlie extravaganza, all-american b(ucky)itch

my fave fics I've written (not exactly blog content but my fic is the whole reason this blog exists): buck and bucky paint the town red, welcome to the stalag bozo, joe liebgott in peach lingerie, smooch stained webster, everything is better in the spring :)

my fave posts I’ve made: my web weaves, my webgott wednesday meme dumps, my beautiful wife home safely :), who's the other guy?, that one coworker that's just gotta go, his german's as good as mine, webgott as the five love languages, i suck dick loud as hell and also the entire invention of webgott wednesday

anyways, if you've ever interacted with any of my posts, sent me an ask, reblogged an edit, commented on a fic, left funny tags on a meme, messaged me about these shows, etc. THANK YOU!!! you make blogging on here fun and you will have a piece of my heart forever :) I am so grateful to the friends I've made on here (you know who you are I'm sure) and really there's nothing I like more than analyzing our fave ww2 vets like bugs in the dms

here's to another year of nonsense!!!!! <3

- meg aka ww2yaoi :^)

[seitmai]

Ahhh so many thoughts so I'm gonna utilize the read more function

“Oh, absolutely,” Bradley replied, his voice laced with mock encouragement. “She’s single. And you’re you, right? What could possibly go wrong?” He tipped his glass, hiding the grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. Jake chuckled, straightening his shoulders and adjusting his stance like he was walking into battle. “You’re not wrong, Rooster. I’m irresistible.” He set his beer on the counter and took a deep breath, the picture of confidence. “Wish me luck.” Bradley raised his glass in a silent toast. “Oh, you’re gonna need it,” he muttered under his breath, watching as Jake strode across the bar like a man on a mission.

Ahahah not Bradley trying to get Jake into hot water on purpose 😅

Maverick smirked, clearly enjoying the show, but didn’t say a word. Penny raised an eyebrow at Maverick, who simply shrugged, leaving you to handle the situation.

Everyone is just enjoying the show 🤭

Before Jake could respond, Maverick spoke up, his voice casual but carrying just enough weight to make Jake pause. “Hangman, you do know who her father is, right?” Jake’s grin didn’t falter—much. “No,” he said confidently. “Should I?”

If Maverick ask like that, you probably should 😅

“Dead serious.” Jake started toward you again, then stopped to look back at Bradley, his smirk now full-blown. Bradley shook his head, half in disbelief and half in amusement. “This is going to end so badly, and I can’t wait to see it.”

Bradley is ready to get the popcorn 😂

“Not even a little,” you shot back, though the corner of your mouth twitched like you were fighting a smile. Jake chuckled, undeterred. “Good. Wouldn’t be worth it if it were easy.”

He likes a challenge

You finally looked at him, your eyes narrowing. “If you already knew that, why are you still here?” Jake shrugged, his gaze unwavering. “Because you’re gorgeous, and I don’t scare off that easily. Besides,” he added with a wink, “I like a good challenge.”

Called it 🤭

Jake picked up his beer, taking a long sip. “She’s just playing hard to get.” Bradley snorted. “She’s not playing, man. She’s actually hard to get.”

Haha Bradley (trying) to get Jake back on the ground is just hilarious 😂

Jake glanced over his shoulder at you, catching the way you smiled at something Maverick said. A genuine, soft smile, not the guarded one you’d given him. His smirk softened just a fraction as he turned back to Bradley.

👀

You tilted your head, studying him. “Distract me, huh? And what makes you think you’re qualified for the job?” Jake smirked, leaning forward slightly. “Because, darlin’, distraction is what I do best."

I love their bickering 🤭

“My name’s not sweetheart. And why should I?” you shot back, arching an eyebrow. “You seem to like the chase.” Jake chuckled, holding your gaze. “Maybe I do. But it’s not just the chase that’s got me sticking around.” You blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone. For a moment, you didn’t know how to respond.

Their back and forth is just such a good match, that either of them being caught off guard is even more confusing 🤭

You sighed, glancing down at your drink. “He’s…persistent.” “That he is,” Penny agreed, leaning against the bar. “But he’s also not as one-dimensional as he might seem.” You raised an eyebrow. “Meaning what? That he’s not just some cocky pilot who thinks he’s God’s gift to women? Cause that’s what everyone around here is saying.” Penny chuckled. “Oh, he’s definitely cocky. But there’s more to him. He’s loyal, sharp as a tack, and surprisingly thoughtful when he wants to be.”

Penny being an advocate for Jake? I didn't see that coming

You couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped you. “Okay, Jake. You’ve got my attention. Now what?” His grin softened into something more genuine. “Now I get to know you.”

Why is that so cute?! 🥰

He paused for a moment, as if considering his options. Then he asked, “What’s something you’ve always wanted to do but haven’t gotten the chance to yet?” The question caught you off guard. It wasn’t what you’d expected—not some flirty remark or shallow small talk, but an actual question. Thoughtful. Genuine.

Me, taking notes for my next date 📝

You rolled your eyes, but there was no real heat behind it. “You were doing so well. Why ruin it?” He laughed, leaning back in his chair. “Just being honest.”

Urgh who knew Jake had it in him 🥰

I absolutely loved this! 👏🏻😍 Please tag me, if you ever decide to write a part 2 🫶🏻

Chasing You

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x AFAB Reader

Summary: At The Hard Deck Jake Seresin spots a stunning woman who he has no business getting involved with. But he doesn’t know that yet. When he figures out her father is an admiral, his interest only deepens. But she’s not as easily impressed as Jake may have hoped. Will he win her over? Or will the chase be more than he bargained for?

Warnings: I don't think there are any :)

Tags: I want to thank @mynameismckenziemae for supporting me and encouraging me to post this! If you haven't yet, definitely check out her stuff!

Also tagging @djs8891 @khouse712 @withahappyrefrain @86laura11 because it seemed like you may have been interested based on the Ask on McKenzie's page! (If you'd like to not be tagged just let me know!)

The Hard Deck was filled with its usual noise, a mix of laughter, clinking glasses, and the soft background music coming from the jukebox. Jake Seresin leaned against the far back wall, beer in hand, casually scanning the room figuring out who he wanted to spend his evening talking to. 

His gaze stopped when he caught sight of a woman talking to Maverick and Penny near the corner of the bar. She was laughing, her smile lighting up the space, and Jake’s interest was instantly piqued.

“Hey, Bradshaw,” Jake nudged Bradley. “Who’s that?” He tilted his head toward the girl.

Bradley glanced over his shoulder, following Jake’s line of sight. When he spotted you, a knowing grin spread across his face. “Oh, her?” he said, his voice carefully casual.

“Yeah, her.” Jake’s tone was dripping with curiosity—and something more. “She’s gorgeous. You know her?”

Bradley turned fully toward Jake now, feigning thoughtfulness. “Actually, I do. She’s real sweet.” He paused for effect, letting the words sink in before adding with just enough sincerity to be dangerous, “I think you should go talk to her.”

Jake raised an eyebrow, clearly weighing the risks. “You serious?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Bradley replied, his voice laced with mock encouragement. “She’s single. And you’re you, right? What could possibly go wrong?” He tipped his glass, hiding the grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Jake chuckled, straightening his shoulders and adjusting his stance like he was walking into battle. “You’re not wrong, Rooster. I’m irresistible.” He set his beer on the counter and took a deep breath, the picture of confidence. “Wish me luck.”

Bradley raised his glass in a silent toast. “Oh, you’re gonna need it,” he muttered under his breath, watching as Jake strode across the bar like a man on a mission.

As Jake approached, you looked up and met his eyes, your smile widening slightly. Maverick and Penny exchanged a glance, their conversation stalling as they noticed the incoming pilot.

“Hey,” Jake started, his southern drawl turned up to full charm mode. “I don’t mean to interrupt, but I couldn’t help noticing you from across the room. I’m Jake.”

Maverick smirked, clearly enjoying the show, but didn’t say a word. Penny raised an eyebrow at Maverick, who simply shrugged, leaving you to handle the situation.

“Nice to meet you, Jake,” you replied, your tone friendly but guarded.

Before Jake could respond, Maverick spoke up, his voice casual but carrying just enough weight to make Jake pause. “Hangman, you do know who her father is, right?”

Jake’s grin didn’t falter—much. “No,” he said confidently. “Should I?”

“Probably,” Maverick replied, leaning back with a smirk, “he’s sitting over there.”

Jake’s head snapped to the other side of the bar, where Cyclone was seated, his gaze locked on Jake like a hawk sizing up prey.

Jake turned back to you, his confidence shaken but not broken. “You know,” he said with a sheepish laugh, “I think I might’ve left my beer at the pool table. Don’t go anywhere, though.”

Back at the pool table, Bradley was doubled over, laughing so hard he could barely breathe. Jake smacked him on the shoulder, muttering, “You’re a real piece of work, Rooster.”

“Worth it,” Bradley managed between laughs. "You retreating already, Bagman?” Bradley teased, his grin wide and smug.

Jake grabbed his beer and took a long sip before setting it down with exaggerated nonchalance. He leaned casually against the pool table, a smirk playing at his lips.

“Retreat?” Jake scoffed, turning his head to glance back in your direction. “Nah, Rooster. I’m just regrouping.”

Bradley’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh yeah? And what exactly is the plan now?”

Jake’s smirk widened into something almost wicked as he turned back towards the bar, fixing his collar and brushing his fingers through his hair. “Simple,” he said, his drawl thick and smooth. “I’m going to get her number.”

Bradley barked out a laugh, nearly spilling his drink. “You’re serious?”

“Dead serious.” Jake started toward you again, then stopped to look back at Bradley, his smirk now full-blown.

Bradley shook his head, half in disbelief and half in amusement. “This is going to end so badly, and I can’t wait to see it.”

You noticed Jake approaching again and sighed inwardly, though a small smirk tugged at your lips. He was persistent, you’d give him that.You had half expected him to give up once he realized who your dad was. You thought the line about forgetting his drink was him tucking his tail between his legs. 

You glanced over at your dad who was still seated on the other side of the bar, his gaze heavy as he followed Jake’s movements back towards you.

“Back already?” you asked, raising an eyebrow as he stopped in front of you.

Jake leaned casually on the bar, his smirk as charming as ever. “Couldn’t stay away,” he said smoothly. “Hard to ignore someone as beautiful as you.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t entirely suppress the faint blush that you knew was on your cheeks. “Is this your usual routine? Flash a smile, throw out some compliments, and hope for the best?”

“Depends,” Jake said, his grin widening. “Is it working?”

“Not even a little,” you shot back, though the corner of your mouth twitched like you were fighting a smile.

Jake chuckled, undeterred. “Good. Wouldn’t be worth it if it were easy.”

You turned your head back toward Maverick and Penny, clearly dismissing him. If he was just looking for a quick lay for the night he could find it with someone else.

But instead of walking away, Jake stayed put, leaning against the bar like he had all the time in the world.

“Still here? Let me guess,” you said without looking at him. “You’re one of those pilots, aren’t you?”

Jake’s grin only grew. “Guilty as charged. And you? Let me guess…Cyclone’s daughter?”

You finally looked at him, your eyes narrowing. “If you already knew that, why are you still here?”

Jake shrugged, his gaze unwavering. “Because you’re gorgeous, and I don’t scare off that easily. Besides,” he added with a wink, “I like a good challenge.”

“Good luck with that,” you said, turning your back on him completely.

Jake laughed softly to himself, taking the hint—for now. He walked back to the back of the bar where the pool tables were and stopped beside Bradley, who was watching the whole exchange with poorly hidden amusement.

“She shut you down, didn’t she?” Bradley asked, grinning.

Jake picked up his beer, taking a long sip. “She’s just playing hard to get.”

Bradley snorted. “She’s not playing, man. She’s actually hard to get.”

Jake glanced over his shoulder at you, catching the way you smiled at something Maverick said. A genuine, soft smile, not the guarded one you’d given him. His smirk softened just a fraction as he turned back to Bradley.

“Even better,” Jake said, leaning against the bar. “That just means she’s worth it.”

Bradley raised an eyebrow, surprised by the sincerity in Jake’s tone. “You’re really not giving up, huh?”

Jake’s smirk returned, but there was a glint of something more genuine in his eyes. “Not a chance.”

A few weeks later The Hard Deck was once again buzzing. It was Friday night, and the sound of voices and clinking glasses filled the air. Jake was nursing a beer at the bar, laughing at one of Coyote’s bad jokes, when his eyes landed on you.

You were seated at a small table outside near the edge of the patio, absently twirling a straw in your drink as you stared out at the ocean. This time, you weren’t surrounded by Maverick, Penny…or your father thankfully.

“Hangman,” Coyote said, nudging him. “You listening?”

Jake didn’t even glance his way. “Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, already rising to his feet.

Coyote followed his line of sight and smirked. “Oh, this should be good. You really going to try this again? You know who her dad is right?”

Jake didn’t respond, just shot him a wink before making his way toward you.

You noticed him approaching out of the corner of your eye and sighed. Of course, he was coming over. It wasn’t like you hadn’t expected it, but you’d hoped he might take the hint after the last time that you weren’t interested.

“Evening,” Jake said smoothly, sliding into the seat across from you without waiting for an invitation.

You raised an eyebrow, leaning back in your chair. “What are you doing?”

“Just keeping you company,” he said, flashing that infuriatingly perfect grin.

You gave him a flat look. “Who said I wanted company?”

“Call it a hunch,” Jake replied, unfazed. “You looked like you could use someone to talk to. Or, you know, someone to distract you.”

You tilted your head, studying him. “Distract me, huh? And what makes you think you’re qualified for the job?”

Jake smirked, leaning forward slightly. “Because, darlin’, distraction is what I do best.”

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t entirely hide the amusement that flickered across your face. “You’re persistent, I’ll give you that.”

“Gotta be with someone like you,” Jake said, his tone softer now. “You’re not exactly making it easy for me sweetheart, are you?”

“My name’s not sweetheart. And why should I?” you shot back, arching an eyebrow. “You seem to like the chase.”

Jake chuckled, holding your gaze. “Maybe I do. But it’s not just the chase that’s got me sticking around.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone. For a moment, you didn’t know how to respond.

“Well,” you said finally, reaching for your drink, “if you’re expecting someone to go home with you, I’m not her. There’s a cute blonde at the bar in the pink dress that might be interested though.”

Jake grinned, leaning back in his chair. “Who said I was looking for someone to go home with me?”

He stood, giving you a quick two-finger salute before heading back to the bar. You watched him go, shaking your head.

For the first time, you found yourself wondering if maybe—just maybe—there was more to Jake Seresin than his charm and good looks.

The ocean breeze lost its appeal as the night wore on, and you found yourself wandering back inside The Hard Deck, craving the warmth and the noise of the bar. You sidled up to the counter, setting your empty glass down with a soft clink.

Penny caught your eye from behind the bar and made her way over with her usual easy smile. “Refill?”

You nodded. “Just a soda, thanks.”

She grabbed the glass and began filling it, her movements practiced and smooth. As you waited, your gaze drifted across the room—right to Jake Seresin, who was leaning casually against the far end of the bar, laughing at something Coyote had said.

You quickly looked away, but not before Penny caught the direction of your stare.

“So,” she began, sliding the refilled glass back to you, “what do you think of him?”

You blinked, playing innocent. “Of who?”

Penny’s lips curved into a knowing smile as she wiped down the counter. “Jake’s been orbiting you all night.”

You sighed, glancing down at your drink. “He’s…persistent.”

“That he is,” Penny agreed, leaning against the bar. “But he’s also not as one-dimensional as he might seem.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Meaning what? That he’s not just some cocky pilot who thinks he’s God’s gift to women? Cause that’s what everyone around here is saying.”

Penny chuckled. “Oh, he’s definitely cocky. But there’s more to him. He’s loyal, sharp as a tack, and surprisingly thoughtful when he wants to be.”

You scoffed lightly, though the words lingered in your mind. “Thoughtful, huh? Doesn’t seem like the type.”

Penny tilted her head, studying you with an amused glint in her eyes. “Maybe you haven’t given him the chance to show you that side of him.”

You sighed again, fiddling with your straw. “To answer your question, he’s…fine, I guess.”

“Just fine?” Penny teased, arching an eyebrow. “You were staring pretty hard for ‘just fine.’”

Your cheeks flushed, and you quickly took a sip of your soda to hide your embarrassment. “I wasn’t staring.”

“Of course not,” Penny said, her tone light and teasing. “But if you were, I’d say maybe it’s worth it to give him a chance.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress the small smile tugging at your lips. “We’ll see.”

Penny winked at you before moving on to another customer, leaving you to your thoughts.

From the corner of your eye, you caught Jake glancing in your direction, his grin widening when your eyes met. You quickly looked away, cursing the heat rising to your cheeks.

As much as you hated to admit it, Penny’s words stuck with you. Maybe there was more to Jake Seresin.

Or maybe you just weren’t ready to find out yet.

You were halfway through your soda when you glanced over again, catching Jake in the middle of another laugh with Coyote. He leaned back against the bar, looking so relaxed and self-assured that it almost annoyed you. Almost.

When his gaze shifted, locking onto yours, your stomach flipped. His grin stretched wider as if he could see right through you. You quickly looked down, pretending to focus on the melting ice in your glass.

Moments later, you caught movement out of the corner of your eye.

“Need a refill?” Jake’s voice drawled, smooth as ever.

You looked up to find him standing beside you, one hand resting casually on the bar. His emerald-green eyes sparkled with mischief, but there was something else there too—something that wasn’t as easy to dismiss.

Your first instinct was to brush him off again, but Penny’s earlier words echoed in your mind. Maybe you hadn’t given him a chance. Maybe you should.

“Sure,” you said finally, surprising even yourself. You pushed the empty glass toward him. “Knock yourself out.”

Jake blinked, momentarily caught off guard by your agreement. Then his grin returned, slow and satisfied, like he’d just won a small victory.

“Coming right up,” he said, grabbing your glass and heading back to the bar.

When he returned, he set the drink in front of you with a little flourish. “One soda. Extra ice, just how you like it.”

You raised an eyebrow. “And how would you know how I like it?”

He shrugged, leaning against the edge of the table. “Lucky guess…or I may have had some help from Penny.”

You couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped you. “Okay, Jake. You’ve got my attention. Now what?”

His grin softened into something more genuine. “Now I get to know you.”

You tilted your head, intrigued despite yourself. “And how do you plan to do that?”

Jake pulled out the chair across from you and sat down, his movements unhurried. “By asking you questions,” he said simply. “And, if I’m lucky, you might actually answer them.”

You sipped your drink, studying him. “Fine. Go ahead. Ask away.”

He paused for a moment, as if considering his options. Then he asked, “What’s something you’ve always wanted to do but haven’t gotten the chance to yet?”

The question caught you off guard. It wasn’t what you’d expected—not some flirty remark or shallow small talk, but an actual question. Thoughtful. Genuine.

You hesitated, then shrugged. “I don’t know. Travel, I guess. There’s a lot of the world I haven’t seen yet.”

Jake nodded, his gaze never leaving yours. “Any place in particular?”

“Greece,” you said, the word slipping out before you could stop it. “I’ve always wanted to see the islands. The history, the views… It just seems like it’d be beautiful.”

“It is,” Jake said, surprising you again.

“You’ve been?”

“Once,” he admitted. “A couple of years ago. Only for a few days, but it was incredible. The water’s so blue it doesn’t even seem real.”

For the first time, you found yourself genuinely curious about him. “What were you doing there?”

“Just passing through on leave,” he said with a shrug. “But I’d go back in a heartbeat. Maybe next time I’ll stay longer.”

You cleared your throat, glancing down at your drink. “Okay, your turn. What’s something you haven’t done yet?”

Jake smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Convince you to let me take you on a date.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was no real heat behind it. “You were doing so well. Why ruin it?”

He laughed, leaning back in his chair. “Just being honest.”

For the first time, you found yourself smiling back. Maybe Penny had been right. Maybe there was more to Jake Seresin than you’d thought.

Note: This is my first time writing any fanfiction that's more than a paragraph or two. And is also my first time sharing or posting what I wrote so I would love to know what you guys think!

I am also considering maybe writing a second part of this that shows you finally giving Jake a chance if there's interest??

[lara4eclipze]

» I Miss Us

sypnosis: lara was never one to be in situationships nor talking stages, she claimed it was stupid and would only end up with ones heart broken or yearning — yet here she was missing you her only situationship

warning: angst, situationship, hurt no comfort, swearing, ghosting, italics for flashbacks, etc

talks: I'm so sorry for those requests i haven't written yet BUT trust i am gonna write some and release them maybe today and tomorrow!, thank you for your patience ^^

taglist: @ohmyhaely @nyssalvr @vrtualstar @c-yerim @jellaaa @nakylvr @chuugetmesohigh

lara stared at her phone, at your conversation to be specific — it's been two months since you two have even chatted, in lara's opinion is the longest two months of her life

lara used to get excited just staying up and chatting with you — sneaking out of the dorms just to have drinks or eat out with you, it didn't matter that she could've been caught by her management — what mattered to her was you

the door to the kats shared house creeks louder than lara would've wanted — her eyes adjust to the dark environment only to make out a figure standing near the kitchen, their leader sophia

"where have you been?!, you know i have been worried sick? i called everyone including your mom!" sophia screams at lara, maybe for the first time in a while — atleast lara wants to pretend like so

in reality lara has been on sophias nerves ever since she started to talking to you — she always left without telling anyone she would be lazy in practices just so that she can chat with you

"go to your room — and whoever it is you are meeting up with, stop it lara you're getting too distracted" sophia mutters trying to keep her calm demeanor "stop telling me what to do" lara snaps back

"do it or ill tell the management team" sophia threatened, it all just stopped from that moment on — lara had to choose between her needs and wants, she walked silently to her shared room fidgeting with her phone

she debated whether to chat you or listen to sophia yet as much as she hated what she was gonna do she did it

she ghosted you.

the first week was confusing to say the least — lara who always chatted with you through every platform was now getting cold?, her usual energetic response to your chats were now replaced with "yeah" or "okay"

the second week was weird, lara had took almost 2 - 3 days just to respond to you, you double texted you had even called her a few times yet it always ended with her giving you a honestly lame excuse

the third to fourth week hurted the most, lara had fully ghosted you, she didn't respond at all, you knew she was active on her socials i mean she posted every week — she always saw your texts she just chose not to open them, you got desperate for even a drop of her attention, it got so bad to the point you tried contacting her other mutual friends

by the second month you had started to accept what had happened — you didn't wait for a notification from her user anymore, you didnt expect a miracle to happen

lara breaths heavily as she back reads on your chats — it took all of her courage not to call you during all of this, she tried and tried making herself believe that you were just a waste of time that you were just a distraction

yet every little thing makes her remember you, late night trips?, your favorite food, even your scent — it all comes back to you

maybe you were meant for eachother just not in this time not in this moment — she sighs massaging her temples, her lips pressed into a thin line as longing creeps into her

she types then deletes again, types and then deletes — maybe it was too long?, too casual? — lara over analyzed her text to you, until she just typed something simple

a notification pops up on your phone, it was 2 am who would be awake in such hour?

my laru♡: hi, how are you?

your heart sinks, everything you've worked so hard for has come down to this moment, moving on, crying even denial that she ghosted you

y/n: I'm good.

lara's mood shifts, you really are gone — the period on the end of the sentence and the proper grammar, screamed over her

my laru♡: I'm sorry, i miss us

you wanted to respond saying you do too, you missed hours and hours of taking with her — laughing at the stupidest things ever, god even that stupid nickname she had in your chats

y/n: me too.

yet as reality dawns on lara, its all a sick cycle — she could never date you, because of her career, she just wanted to pretend that it didnt matter just for a few more minutes

[nameless-jamie]

I love the PA series!! So so good! The dynamic between them <3 if you ever write more of them, I’d love to see your take on a role reversal type of situation where Jamie has to help his PA (maybe she’s having a bad day or something like that).

Thank you for all your writing <3 and hope your week is going okay!

Tissues and Tea

Masterlist

Jamie Tartt x fem! PA reader

TW: cursing, flirting

A/N: Hello! Thank you for this great request. I hope you like what I made out of it. I'm doing fine, I hope you have a great rest of the week and enjoy your reading. <3

Y/N should’ve stayed home. She knows that.

But the thought of leaving Jamie Tartt to his own devices for a full day? Unsupervised? With a match coming up and at least three emails that need responses before noon? Absolutely not.

So here she is, standing outside his house, sniffling, a little wobbly on her feet, but determined. Her usual pencil skirt and blouse combo were exchanged for some jeans and a loose hoodie. She rings the doorbell and barely has time to brace herself before Jamie swings the door open, wearing—of course—nothing but gray sweatpants and a cocky grin.

"Ew, you look like death."

"Good morning to you too," she grumbles, brushing past him into the warmth of his house.

Jamie shuts the door behind her, frowning. "Nah, for real. Why d’you sound like a ninety-year-old chain-smoker?"

She ignores him, heading straight to the kitchen counter where she usually sets up her laptop. "I’m fine. Just a little cold."

Jamie narrows his eyes, watching as she unpacks her work things with shaky hands. "Right," he drawls. "And I’m fuckin’ Cristiano Ronaldo."

She sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. Her head was throbbing and she could not take any banter today. "Jamie, I’m fine."

"You’re not fine," he counters, stepping closer. "You look like you’re gonna pass out. Actually—" He pokes her arm and she loses her balance a little. "—yeah, that’s definitely wobbly behavior, love."

She swats his hand away. "I just need to get through the day, then I’ll rest."

Jamie scoffs. "Yeah, not happening." Before she can argue, he grabs her laptop and walks off with it.

"Jamie—what the hell?!" she croaks, chasing after him.

"Oi, don’t strain yourself," he teases, holding it above his head like a schoolboy dodging a playground fight. "You’re sick. Ya need to rest. And lucky for you, I’m a proper gentleman, so I’m gonna look after ya today. Call me your personal assistant."

She blinks. "You? Taking care of me?"

Jamie gasps, mock-offended. "What, ya don’t trust me?"

"Not even a little bit."

"Rude," he mutters, placing her laptop high up on a shelf, far out of her reach. He puts his hands on her shoulders and shoves her towards the living room "Now, let’s get ya on the couch, yeah?"

She knows she should fight this, but honestly? Standing for this long is exhausting. And Jamie's 50.000-pound-couch looked comfy ass hell. So, reluctantly, she lets him guide her to the couch, where he throws a ridiculously big fluffy blanket over her.

"There," he says, hands on his hips. "All cozy. Like a little babeh."

"I can’t move," she deadpans, buried under the weight of the blanket.

"Exactly." he pulls the finger-guns at her.

She glares at him, but Jamie just grins.

A beat of silence, then—

"Want some tea?"

She exhales. "That would be nice, actually."

Jamie beams, disappearing into the kitchen. A minute later, she hears cabinets slamming, the sink running, and Jamie muttering "fuckin’ hell, where’s the sugar?" under his breath.

"It's in the second cupboard on the left," Y/N shouted as loud as her croaky voice let her.

"Got it!"

When he returns, he hands her a mug with the smuggest expression. "There ya go, love. My specialty."

She takes a sip—and immediately grimaces. "Jamie."

"What?"

"This is just hot sugar water."

He frowns. "Nah, it’s tea."

"The teabag is what makes it tea..." she narrows his eyes at him. "Let me guess, you don't know where the teabags are?"

"I could put some leaves from my kitchen plant in there. Same thing, innit?" he scratches his neck embarrassed.

She sighs, setting it down. "You’re lucky I’m too weak to fight you right now."

Jamie plops down next to her, looking way too pleased with himself. "You are lucky, actually. Not everyone gets personal Jamie Tartt care."

She gives him a tired, but teasing look. "Oh, so this is an exclusive service? Where do I complain? Is there like a hotline or..."

"Hey don't get sassy with me, you booked the VIP package. Special treatment. No refunds." He smirks, then leans in a little. "Want me to tuck ya in?"

"Jamie."

"I’ll do it proper, promise. Maybe even sing ya a lullaby."

"Jamie."

His smirk widens. "Or, if ya prefer, I could be your personal hot water bottle. Y’know, for extra warmth."

"Jamie."

"What? No cuddlin' ?"

She rolls her eyes, but her lips twitch—because despite everything, he is making her feel better.

He watches her for a moment, his teasing expression softening just a little. Then, without thinking, he reaches out and tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

"Y’know," he says quietly, thumb brushing against her temple, "you spend so much time lookin’ after me. Someone’s gotta return the favor, yeah?"

Her breath catches.

It’s the kind of moment she’s always tried to ignore—the kind where Jamie isn’t just the flirty, cocky footballer she works for, but something more. Someone who cares about her. Someone who, if she let herself believe it, might actually love her.

But she’s too tired to overthink it today.

So instead of pushing him away, she just leans into his already open arms, lets herself relax under the ridiculous blanket, and mutters, "Fine. But if you try to feed me soup, I’m leaving."

Jamie grins. "Nah, love. I’m terrible at soup."

And with that, he settles in beside her, her head on his chest, his arms wrapped tightly around her. Y/n's silent snores fill the room and Jamie sighs satisfied. Yep, he's refusing to move from this position—ever again.

[missconchshell]

Okay, just watched episode 6 of Link Click Bridon Arc. What is going on here??!! I'm so confused about the timelines! Lu Guang's mention of this being his last chance, just like at the end of season 2 makes me think that this is all the same timeline! But I was originally so convinced that this was just one of Lu Guangs failed attempts! I don't know what to think anymore! If anyone has any evidence for either way, please let me know!

Anywho, onto the less confusing parts of the episode! Cheng Xiaoshi went through it in this episode! From thinking he was about to be sold into prostitution, to actually having a good time with the photoshoot, what a whiplash that must have been! And Cheng Xiaoshi and Lu Guang were so cute! Loved them getting pretty photos on the bike before just eating it in the dirt! And then all the fun times are ripped away from him and he's forced to meet his mom, who immediately tells him to forget about this and stop trying to search for his parents! I can't believe that he might have been holding onto this secret throughout all of seasons 1 and 2! This poor boy can not catch a break!

And Cheng Xioashi's mom! Wow that was a shock! Was not expecting her to possess Wang Qing. I wasn't quite a fan of how blasé she was about abandoning her son for like a decade, but I definitely can see where he gets a lot of his personality from. And I have seen someone mention that maybe with her plan to change the past and save his dad, maybe she's working towards a timeline where everything is fine and they both end up coming back from London when he was still a kid, basically making it so that he was never really abandoned. So, for her, this more of a neat glimpse into what her son is going to grow up to be. Still doesn't really excuse her behavior to me, but it makes it easier to process, so I'm gonna go with this headcanon until proven otherwise.

Onto my best boy Lu Guang, wow he was fun this episode! Loved getting to see him have fun with Cheng Xiaoshi and even bond with Xia Fei a bit! And then seeing him show his anger with Vein was neat! So curious about Vein's "death" scene, I can't tell if it was more Lu Guang "orchestrating" his death by delaying him enough to change the timeline so he's killed by Wang Qing, or if Lu Guang actually somehow possessed Wang Qing and directly used her powers to take him out. Hopefully season 3 will give us some answers.

I almost completely missed that Vein had come back to life, only went back to watch the end cause someone had mentioned it in a comment. It'll be interesting to see what role he and Liu Xiao play in season 3 and what their plans are for our crew!

And Xia Fei, wonder what happened to him and the guy who got fired? And will Lu Guang even mention it to Cheng Xiaoshi, or will this be another Emma incident?

I love this show so much, even if it can be a bit of a mess to puzzle through occasionally. I'm so curious about what's coming next, and excited to spend the rest of the day reading others' theories about what the heck just happened!