#greetings from the denial town

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Everybody Knows That I'm a Good Girl, Officer

Summary: After Javi brings home a pair of handcuffs from work, your plans for the night start to look very different.

Word Count: 7.2K (she got away from me real fast)

Pairing: Husband!Javier Peña x Wife!reader (no use of y/n)

Warnings: SMUT (18+), unprotected p in v (It's implied that Javi got the snip, we're good y'all), oral (f and m receiving), face fucking, sex toys, roleplay (kind of? Javi's got access to handcuffs and you're giving him enough attitude to bring out the brat tamer in him 😵‍💫), rough sex, creampie, edging/orgasm denial, overstimulation, dom!javi (but still the same sweet, soft Javi that we all know and love who loves his wife), a sprinkle of a breeding kink (because it's trademark at this point), heavy on the praise kink, sexting, safe word/consent (hawt), spanking (not that hard), one AFFECTIONATE use of slut!, Javi is our aftercare king (are we surprised? no.) Javi's mouth is so filthy I'm washing my own out with soap, I'm not gonna lie to y'all, this is NASTY and I don't think I've ever put this many warnings for something lmao (also, still fluff and dad!Javi because I say so)

A/N: ....... Soooooooo, yeahhhhhhhh. This is hands down the filthiest thing I've ever written 🤠 Steppin' a little out of my normal comfort zone for this one- idk what's in the water this month, but I think someone may have to come put me out to pasture pretty soon!!!! Checking myself into horny prison with a life sentence!!!!! I hope you guys enjoy, I know it's different than the norm, but lemme know what you think 🥺 Thanks for supporting me through my horny endeavors, ily all!!!

The days of chasing down bad guys and capturing criminals were a thing of the past for Javier Peña- at this point, the closet he'd come to his past life in Columbia in his position at the Laredo Sheriff's Department was using every ounce of patience he had to deal with his knuckle headed co-workers whenever they did something stupid.

While the job title "Border Protections Consultant" provided Javi with a much quieter and calmer life than working as a DEA agent, when his daughters had asked him to come in for Career Day, their classmates were convinced that he might as well have been straight out of "Men in Black."

Unfortunately for the other parents who had decided to show, Javi's appearance had out shadowed any of the other jobs after his daughters classes had learned he worked for the Police Department to help catch "bad guys" (even if the better part of the class had decided to ignore the fact he wasn't the one physically going out to stop them).

After showing off some cool accessories he had brought with him from the department and sharing some watered down, age appropriate stories to make his presentation more interesting, the Peña girls were the talk of the town at Alma Pierce Elementary, riding the high of being dubbed "The Kids With the Coolest Dad" by everyone in their class, especially after he signed them out early with promises of slushies before heading home.

So when Javi and the girls arrived back to the house, it was no shock to you that your daughters were still beaming with excitement about their dad's celebrity appearance.

"Mommy, Mommy!" Lucy, your oldest squealed as she burst through the door, dropping her backpack with a thud to greet you in the kitchen, "Dad had the best job at all of Career Day. All the kids in my class said he was the coolest one."

"Oh was he now?" You smirked, watching as Javi and your other two daughters, Elliot and Harper, trailed behind Lucy, equally beaming with excitement.

"Yeah! That's what all the kids in my class said too!" Elliot exclaimed, plopping herself down next to her sister at one of the barstools at your kitchen island.

"Me too!" Harper added, finding her usual spot next to her sisters.

"Looks like someone's reached celebrity status." You giggled, playfully raising your eyebrows at Javi as he came to greet you, wrapping one arm around your waist while the other dropped his work bag on the countertop, pulling you closer for a kiss.

"What's a celebrity?" Harper asked, staring at her sisters in confusion.

"Someone who's like, really famous." Lucy answered, Elliot nodding adamantly in agreement that her dad was, in fact, their elementary school's newest celebrity.

"So I take it the presentation went well then?" You asked, shrugging at Javi, trying not to blush with pride from his daughter's admiration.

"Guess so." Javi replied, shedding his suit jacket and tossing it next to his bag, loosening his tie and rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt to his elbows before reaching in one of your cabinets to grab a glass of water.

"Dad told our class about how he helps catch bad guys and put them in jail, for like, forever."

"And he told everyone about how a long time ago, before he was old, that he used to go run through the streets and catch people and put them in handcuffs!"

"He even brought in handcuffs for everyone to see!"

The last comment most definitely caught your attention, crossing your arms over your chest and tilting your head at Javi, trying your best to keep from letting a suspicious smirk spread across your face.

"Oh? Daddy brought handcuffs? Daddy doesn't normally use handcuffs at his job. I wish I would have gotten to see them."

While your girls would have never noticed anything unusual about your question, Javi was nearly choking on the sip of water he had just taken, very clearly understanding the implications of what you had just asked, coughing a few times as he tried to compose himself.

"Are you okay, Daddy?" Harper asked, looking at Javi with concern.

"Yeah, I'm- I'm good, baby. Just didn't know Mommy wanted to um- wanted to see my handcuffs so badly." Javi stammered, glancing over at you with a devilish look in his eyes.

"You should show her! They're really cool, Mom!" Lucy proposed, her sisters nodding along in agreement, blissfully unaware of the tension rapidly thickening between you and Javi.

"Um- y-yeah, maybe later, Lu." Javi stuttered, still keeping eye contact with you as he answered his daughter, "Why don't you guys um- why don't you guys go play outside for a little bit."

"Really?! Before homework?!" Elliot squealed in surprise and delight.

"Yeah, go- go play. Mom and I will come get you guys in a few."

Javi could barely finish his sentence before your girls were sprinting to the backyard, leaving you and your husband alone in the kitchen in a silent stare down until the backdoor was shut behind them.

"Man, you must reallllyy wanna show me those handcuffs, Javi." You cooed, tongue darting out of your mouth as you bit down on your lip, getting a kick out of how rattled one little comment had made him.

"You better be careful with that shit, Hermosa." Javi groaned, stepping towards you, hands sliding down your back until they were groping your ass, slowly kneading the soft flesh in his hands.

"Yeah? Or what? You gonna use them on me?" You mewled, whispering in Javi's ear, the hot breath of your words making him audibly moan, taking a deep inhale and exhale to try and keep from busting right then and there.

"Jesus fucking christ- If you're gonna keep teasing me like this, then maybe I fucking should." Javi sighed, pulling you closer to feel the bulge hardening in his slacks, pressed against your thigh.

"Is that a threat, or a promise, Officer?"

At this point, you knew you were playing dirty, but you couldn't help hit, sultry smile spread across your lips at the way Javi's jaw had gone slack, practically hitting the floor in horny disbelief that your night was about to take such drastic turn.

"Depends, has sido una chica mala (have you been a bad girl)?" Javi hummed, voice rumbling deep in his chest as his grip around you tightened, eyes growing dark with lust, watching you play innocent, batting your lashes up at him.

"Para ti? Si. (For you? Yes.)"

Letting out a low, quite laugh, Javi shook his head before reaching one of his hands up, wrapping his fingers around your jaw and top half of your neck, forcing your gaze up at him and his smug snarl.

"Then it's a promise." He paused, the two of you staring at each other with a silent thrill of excitement pulsing through your veins. "Go pack the girl's bags, I'm dropping them off at my Dad's."

"Javi, are you sure? It's a Friday night, we can't just drop them at your dad's like this last minute. What if he-"

"Talked to him earlier this week. I know he's not busy. Even if he was, he'd drop whatever it was to have a sleepover with the girls. Like I really need to twist his arm to watch them."

"Okay, well what are we gonna tell him when he asks why we're dropping them off unplanned?" You retorted, knowing Javi wasn't wrong, but feeling bad for springing your girls unsuspectingly onto your father-in-law.

"That it's an emergency." Javi shrugged, his mouth working faster than his brain to find an answer to your question.

"Being horny isn't an emergency, Jav." You sighed, rolling your eyes at your husband.

"I'll figure something out. And if you keep talking like that to me, it most definitely is an emergency." Javi smirked, gaze of his reassuring, sweet brown eyes winning you over with ease.

"Okay. Go call your dad, I'll get the girls ready." You grinned, anticipation bursting at your seams as Javi raced to the back door, throwing it open to yell out to your daughters.

"Pollitas (little chickens)! Come inside, we're going to Abuelo's!"

The two of you were convinced you'd never worked faster to get your daughters out the door, frantically throwing together their sleepover bags with their help before Javi was nearly tossing them into his truck, the girls none the wiser and happy as could be to have a surprise sleepover with Chucho.

"Thanks again for watchin' em, Pops. We'll come pick them up in the morning." Javi nodded, giving his dad a quick hug after dropping off Lucy, Elliot and Harper, who had blessed him with a short and sweet goodbye as they rushed off to the barn to go feed the horses, leaving Javi to part ways with his dad.

"Of course, hijo. You know I love having mis nietas (my granddaughters) here, even when it's a surprise. I must have missed it on the phone, but what was so urgent? Not that I'm complaining." Chucho asked, resting his hands in the pockets of his worn jeans, patiently waiting for his son's response.

"It um- something uh- something came up, and I-" Javi stammered, face turning bright red as his eyes darted towards the ground, trying to come up with some sort of bold faced lie off the top of his head before his dad cut him off.

"I thought I done getting grandkids?" Chucho smirked, relishing in Javi's uncomfortability, having a sneaking suspicion exactly why his son had made such a quick and urgent request.

"Jesus, Dad..." Javi sighed, burying his face in his hands to try and hide his embarrassment, not confirming or denying his father's acquisitions.

"Makes me happy to know you two are still very much in love." Chucho chuckled, patting his son on the back.

"Okay, I'm gonna go now," Javi huffed, scrunching his face in shame, giving his dad one more awkward hug before trotting back to his truck, "Thanks, Pops."

"Don't mention it, Javier. Take your time tomorrow. Tell your wonderful wife I say hello and that I hope the two of you have a fun night toget-"

"Jesus Christ... Bye, dad." Javi groaned, climbing into the driver's seat of his truck, slamming the door behind him as Chucho disappeared into the house, giddily laughing to himself.

Meanwhile, while Javi was busy dropping off the girls (insisting that you didn't come, because he'd have zero self control if you did), you had decided to go digging through the back of your underwear drawer, looking to find something to surprise Javi with when he returned home.

You pulled out a few choices, tossing them onto your bed to browse through before finding a black, lacy set you had almost forgotten about- the delicate, barely there, see through lace of the bra paired with the equally as skimpy thong seeming like an ideal option for the night ahead of you.

If you weren't already thrumming with enough anticipation as you changed into your new attire, your phone lit up on your nightstand, buzzing as Javi's name popped up on the screen.

Javi: Leaving Pops. Be back in 20.

You stared up at the clock, quietly calculating Javi's arrival time before you were interrupted by another vibration.

Javi: Wait on the bed for me. Don't touch yourself until I'm back.

You could almost hear Javi's voice, commanding you with just enough sternness, but not enough to stop you from pushing the limits just a little.

Grabbing your phone, you opened up your camera, dropping to your knees in front of the full length mirror in your bedroom, seductively posing to tease just enough of your surprise to get Javi home to you in 12 minutes instead of 20.

You: Yeah? And what if I do? 😉

You smirked as you sent your text and picture, giggling to yourself at Javi's near immediate response.

Javi: Fuck me. You're so fucking sexy.

Javi: Your pussy's all mine tonight. Be a good girl and do what you're told. Bad girls get punished.

You: Maybe I wanna be punished 😏

Javi: Careful what you wish for baby. See u soon.

You could already feel your stomach swelling with arousal, your text messages alone beginning to soak a damp patch into the lace of your thong, making the fabric clinging around your swollen and puffy pussy, leaving you with a throbbing ache between your legs.

You wandered over to your nightstand, searching around the back, just like you had done with your dresser, looking through the few toys kept there. It had been a while since any of them had made an appearance in your bedroom, not because you or Javi were opposed to it, but because with how religiously Javi wanted to be the one who made you feel good, it wasn't often they were going to use unless you were uncontrollably horny and Javi wasn't home.

And even though at this point he'd be home in 15 minutes, right now, you found yourself in both of those categories, the added layer of seeing if he'd make good on his threat only turning you on more.

With the way your clit was throbbing and cunt clenching around nothing, you opted for your rabbit vibrator, climbing into bed with the toy as you settled yourself into the pillows, lying on your back and spreading your legs to try and ease the ache between them.

You ran the head of the toy over the soaked fabric of your panties a few times before pulling the damp lace to the side, shuttering as it brushed against your clit. With how wet you were from want, you easily slid the tip of the toy into your entrance, sinking it deeper into your pussy until the smaller end was hitting against your sensitive bundle of nerves. You whimpered at the sensation- still feeling no where near as good as what Javi would, but finally easing the fluttering of your pussy and throbbing of your clit was enough to give you temporary relief for now.

You thanked whatever lucky stars were out there in the universe that your vibrator had battery power left, clicking it on to feel the low hum shoot through your lower half, making you squirm against the sheets.

You lazily dragged the vibrator in and out of your heat, just enough to prod against your g-spot without leaving your clit untouched, imagining Javi's length thrusting in and out of you while the worn pads of his fingers circled your throbbing nub, whispering filthy, sweet nothings into your ear as he fucked you.

"That's it, pretty girl. Make yourself feel good. So fucking wet, making such a mess for me."

You threw your head back on the pillow, clamping your eyes shut as you let the scene continue you to play out in your head, turning up the intensity of your vibrator as you rocked it faster and deeper into your cunt.

"You're taking it so well, baby. My good girl. There you go. Pretty little pussy wants to cum so bad, huh? Greedy thing couldn't wait for me to take care of her like I asked?"

You were so caught up in your own pleasure that you could have sworn you'd heard Javi speaking to you. Too lost in your imagination, you didn't stop, feeling your orgasm beginning to creep through your body. So lost, that you didn't hear the heavy footsteps padding their way to the edge of the bed or broad body looming over you.

"Just couldn't wait until I got back, huh?"

Your eyes shot open, the all too familiar low and sultry laugh much too real for you to have imagined, looking up to see Javi standing over you, hands on his hips as he watched you fuck yourself on your vibrator.

"Javi! J-jesus, baby. You scared the shit outta me." You huffed, trying to catch your breath as you scrambled to turn off your vibrator, whining at the loss as you pulled the soaking toy out of you, sitting up straighter on the bed.

"Wouldn't have scared the shit out of you if you did what you were told." Javi tutted, smirking to himself, "You gonna be a good girl and do what you're told, or am I gonna have to teach my pretty little wife a lesson about following directions?"

Before you could say anything, Javi was grabbing you by the hips, pulling you to the edge of the bed so your legs dangled off the mattress, letting him lean in to give you a desperate kiss, tongues and teeth clashing in a messy fight. With his hands frantically roaming your body, tracing over your lacy silhouette, he pulled away from your kiss just enough to let the words of his whisper dance against your skin.

"Donut. If it's too much. Repeat it back to me."

"Donut." You moaned, nodding your head in agreement at your safe word.

"You promise you'll tell me if it's too much? I don't wanna hurt you, amor." Javi asked, the familiar sweet and sensitive concern of your husband unveiling itself through your facade, puppy eyes locking with yours for confirmation.

"I promise. Damelo, Papi. (Give it to me, Daddy). "

As soon as your eyes locked in harmony, giving Javi your promise, the once sweet and innocent gaze had now turned to something much darker, the brown of his pupils pooling with lust, reaching behind you to grab the vibrator laying on the comforter, still covered in your slick.

Dropping to his knees, Javi parted your thighs, settling himself between them to admire the wet, puffy mess you had already made by yourself, running his fingers over the lacy fabric that had been barely covering it up, tugging it tight like a rubber band before letting it slap against your pussy, eliciting a pathetic whimper from you.

"She's crying for me, isn't she, baby? Poor thing. Trying to fuck yourself on this, wishing it was my cock, weren't you?" Javi scolded mockingly, turning on the vibrator and running it through your folds, teasing you everywhere but where you wanted to be touched.

"Y-yes. Wanna cum all around your cock, Javi." You moaned, face scrunching as he slid the toy up and down your weeping slit.

"But bad girls don't always get what they want, do they? Sometimes," He paused, slipping the toy into your hole until the longer curve was flushed to your g-spot and the shorter to your clit, "sometimes, they have to beg for what they want. You gonna be a good girl and do what I say?"

"Make me."

The words rolled off your tongue with a bratty confidence, a challenge you knew damn well he'd accept. Javi turned on the vibrator, cranking it up to it's highest setting, tongue running over his teeth as he watched your body jolt, grabbing fist fulls of your bedsheets to brace yourself.

"Oh fuck-" You muttered, swallowing hard, trying to suppress the shock of pleasure that had ignited in you as the vibrator thrummed at full force, Javi pushing it right up against the soft spongy spot inside he knew drove you wild, making sure the other part of the toy stayed nestled between your folds.

Javi could see your pussy beginning to flutter, clenching tighter around the toy as arousal began to seep out of your hole, pressing the vibrator deeper into you, only egging your impending orgasm on further.

"I know you wanna cum, baby. Ask nicely before I make you beg for it." Javi groaned, the hand not holding the vibrator now digging into your hip, holding you in place.

"N-no." You stammered, confidence wavering as you felt the tingle at the base of your spine start to spread rapidly through your body. Gripping tighter onto the tangled sheets, you felt your legs begin to tremble, cunt clamping down around the toy, about to cross the finish line until-

"Fuck! Nononono, Javi- fuck!" You cried out, whimpering as Javi yanked the vibrator from your cunt, leaving you empty and aching, the near high of your almost orgasm quickly dissipating.

"What's it gonna be, Hermosa? You gonna be good for me now?" Javi mewled, snarky smile spread between his lips watching your chest heave with heavy breaths after leaving you on the brink of collapse.

"Fuck- No. Make me, Javi." You huffed back, trying to keep cocky as if you weren't seconds away from crumbling under his touch.

Javi's response was nothing but a low laugh to himself, turning the vibrator back on high and stuffing it into your hole, fucking you with it more intensely than before. Your eyes rolled in the back of your head, jaw going slack as the feeling of the fullness and buzzing consumed you, putting you back on edge of where you just were moments ago.

The only thought you could process was how close you were cumming, cunt throbbing and pulsing around your vibrator, body trembling with need as the coil in your stomach was about to snap.

"J-Javi, Javi, I-" You stammered, trying to string together a coherent sentence.

"What, baby? You gonna cum?" Javi asked, taunting you with his tone.

You tried your best to nod your head, nearly there, thinking that Javi would give in, only to let out another wanton cry as he pulled out the vibrator again, even more desperate and empty than before.

"Fuckfuckfuck! No, fuck! Javi, no-" You sobbed, white knuckling your sheets, bucking your hips into nothing, "Javi, let me cum. I wanna- fuck- I wanna cum!"

"Brats don't get to cum, cariño." Javi tutted, tossing the vibrator to the edge of the bed, caging your body under his, teeth nipping across your skin, hands cupping your lace covered breasts, fingers slipping under the fabric to tweak your pebbled nipples while his mouth met yours. "You want it? You get on your knees and beg for it like a good girl."

"And what if I don't? What if I don't wanna listen, Agent Peña?" You retorted, staring up at him with a devilish grin, trying to egg him on enough to reach for the handcuffs he had dangling out of the back of his pants pocket.

Reaching down to snake your hand between your bodies to try and rub your clit, you were stopped in your tracks, Javi wrapping is hand firmly around your wrist, grabbing it, and your other free arm to pin both your wrists to the bed above your head in his grasp.

He paused for a moment, looking down at you for a silent confirmation that you were comfortable with what was about to happen next, both of your heart beats pounding in your ears as you gave him a subtle, but adamant nod, biting down on your bottom lip with a sultry grin.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Fuck me-" He murmured to himself, trying to keep from laughing under his breath from pure exhilarated elation, breaking his stern facade. After a brief moment of self-composure, Javi was digging in the back pocket of his slacks, pulling out the shiny, silver pair of handcuffs that had gotten you in this position in the first place. "Either you listen, or I make you fucking listen, Hermosa."

"I'm sorry, Officer, I never have been a good listener." You cooed, batting your lashes and pouting at him with the big doe eyes and plush bottom lip, watching something animalistic begin to consume him.

In a sudden and frantic dance of limbs, Javi was clipping his handcuffs around your wrists, leaving enough room to wiggle them without pain in the confines of the cool metal, but with nowhere near enough room you were breaking free from them without his help. Bringing your now locked arms from above your head to in front of your chest, Javi was manhandling you off the edge of the bed to the ground, settling you to your knees in front of him.

A feverish thrill ran through you as you watched Javi undo his belt, metal buckle clanging as he shoved his pants and boxers down his hips, his painfully hard cock springing free, slapping against his stomach and leaving a trail of precum on the bottom of his shirt.

Your mouth watered as you watched his length bob in front of you, wishing your hands were free to wrap your fingers around his base, stroking him while you lubed him up with your spit and his precum before taking him into your mouth. Instead, it was Javi running his hand along his shaft, the other reaching down to thumb at your bottom lip, coaxing your jaw to go slack for him.

"Open." He commanded, tapping the tip of his cock against your tongue as you stuck it out, the warm and salty dribble of his precum leaking into your mouth.

Javi gleamed watching as your thighs clenched together beneath you, wiggling to try and give yourself any kind of friction as your slick coated the inside of your legs. He ran his hand across your cheek, cradling the back of your head as he ran his fingers through your messy hair, grabbing a fist full near the base of your neck to yank your gaze up at him.

"Could have cum by now if weren't gonna be sucha brat, baby girl. I know you want me to fuck you so bad. You wish that I was stuffed so fucking deep inside you, huh? But you're so fucking greedy for my cock, you'll take it wherever I give it to you, won't you?" Javi huffed, nostrils flaring as you nodded your head, his tip still resting on your tongue before your lips wrapped around the head of his shaft, taking him into your mouth as your tongue ran along the length of the thick vein pulsing in his cock.

With a subtle shift of his hips, Javi was thrusting himself deeper inside your throat, making you hollow your cheeks and breath through your nose, the curls at his base filling your nostrils with his sweet and musky scent.

“So greedy, you'll let me fuck this pretty little mouth of yours, won't you?” His voice rasped, hitching in the back of his throat watching you fill with his length, "You're gonna be a good girl and let me stuff your throat so full of my cock that it'll fuck that bratty mouth right out of you, won't it, hermosa?"

His other hand met his first, cupping the back of your head while he fucked into you, hitting the back of your throat as tears welled in your eyes and drool pooled from your lips as his cock consumed your mouth. You nodded your head, looking up at him with teeth gritted and eyes darkened, his grunts and moans becoming louder with each push and pull, so demanding yet desperate at the same time.

"And after I fuck your mouth, I'm gonna fuck the brat out of you with my tongue," he paused, drawing back to slam his dick to the back of your throat, "I'm gonna fuck you with my cock," He paused again, repeating the motion, wetness dripping down your eyes and mouth from your tears and saliva, "I'm gonna fuck you 'till you're begging me to stop, because who does this pussy belong to, baby?"

Jerking back his hips, he freed his cock from your mouth, leaving you coughing as you tried to clear your throat, completed wrecked in the best way, the thick and musky tang of him still lingering on your tongue.

"It's yours, Javi. My pussy is yours, baby." You whimpered, your mask of cocky confidence now fading to reveal rampant your need and want, your pussy too painfully aching to hide it any longer.

Javi grunted, lifting you off the ground to guide you to your bed, letting your back bounce against the mattress as Javi once again settled between your thighs, slinging your legs over his broad shoulders.

You looked down to see his eyes widen as he admired the absolute wreck that had pooled between your legs, slick smearing your cunt and the inside of your thighs, pussy so swollen and shiny that you were convinced you had never been this worked up in your life without any sort of relief.

"Say it again, baby. Whose pussy is this?" Javi mewled, licking a long, flat stroke across your cunt.

"Y-yours, Javi." You moaned, bucking your hips into Javi's face, desperate for more.

"Louder, cariño. Let me hear who this pussy belongs to." The movement of his tongue repeated, this time added a few more broad strips, draping his hand across your stomach to hold you in place.

"Y-you! Oh fuck- It belongs to you, Javi! " You cried out, writhing under his touch, egging on the primal and possessive part of his brain.

"Do think you finally deserve to cum, hermosa? Poor pussy made such a fucking mess, I can feel her throbbing for me, baby." Javi taunted mockingly between licks of your cunt. "Beg for it, Osita. Beg for it like the filthy girl I know you are only for me."

There was no use in fighting it anymore, every shred of fight you had left in you had disappeared, leaving you a sobbing, whimpering mess, so dire to cum, you would have cried and plead for hours on end if that's what it would have taken for you to finally get what you wanted.

"P-please, Javi, please. Please, baby, I'll be good. Fuck- please make cum. Pleasepleasepleaseplease- Fuck!"

Your sobs were cut off as Javi dove between your legs, the slow and monotonous licks of your pussy now turning into him devouring you, sloppily eating you out like it was his last meal on earth, and he wasn't leaving a fucking crumb behind.

The way his mouth sucked and lapped at your clit had the coil in your spine that had been tightening over and over again for what felt like hours now reaching a near breaking point. Your wrists were straining against the handcuffs still clasped below your hands, writhing and thrashing under Javi's touch, wishing that you had something to grab onto to ground yourself.

"Fuck, Javi, Fuck- don't stop baby, please- ohmygod- I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna-ahhhhhh!"

Your pent up orgasm crashed through you like a tsunami, every inch of your body radiating with such intense pleasure that you could feel your legs shaking around Javi's head, sobbing out with relief while you gushed arousal into his mouth, going limp with ecstasy.

But to your surprise, the sensation between your legs continued, Javi still relentlessly drinking you up, his pace unfaltering as he worked you through your high, clearly determined to make you cum again.

Latching his lips around your sensitive bundle of nerves, Javi sucked at your clit with a feverish intensity, fingertips gripping into your hips to keep you in place and hold you against the bed, keeping you right where he wanted you until he had you crumbling under his touch.

It wasn't long before the tingle at the base of your spine was building rapidly again, your pussy fluttering and throbbing, so sensitive from how long you had waited for release of your last orgasm that you could feel your second building just as fast as your first.

"I'm gonna- fuck- Javi, I'm gonna cum again, oh my- fuck- fuckfuckfuck!" You sobbed, limbs feeling like Jello as your next high hit you, eyes rolling to the back of your head, cumming so hard you were convinced you were seeing stars.

With your eyes scrunched shut, you hadn't seen Javi pulling away, shedding his shirt before grabbing your hips to flip you over, maneuvering you so your locked arms were outstretched in front of you and your chest pressed to the mattress, the firm grip returning to your hips to raise your ass in the air, wet and puffy pussy on display for him as he hovered at the edge of the bed behind you.

"Pussy's so fucking sweet, hermosa." Javi hummed, swiping two fingers through your folds and collecting your slick from your still trembling cunt, caging his body over yours as his other hand wrapped around your neck and jaw, pulling you up to flush your back against his chest, tacky with his sweat.

"Taste." He ordered, bringing the two shiny fingers to your lips, dipping them into your mouth while your tongue swirled around, tangy and sticky arousal filling your senses. "Think she's ready for me, baby? Or should I fuck you with my fingers until you're begging for my cock?"

"N-no, I want it, p-please, wanna cum around your cock so bad. Wanna feel you Javi, please." You whimpered, swallowing hard with Javi's palm still gently splayed around your throat.

"Okay," Javi paused, reaching down to grab the base of his shaft, coating his length with your arousal as he ran it up and down your slit until the blunt head of his tip was notching into your entrance, "but this greedy little cunt is gonna take everything I have to give her, understand?"

"Mhmmhmmm-" You nodded against his skin, whining as he sunk the rest of his length inside you, the sweet sting of his stretch setting you ablaze.

"Fuckkkk-" Javi muttered under his breath, pressing his body weight into you to force your chest back down to he bed and ass back up, running his hands over it, massaging the plump flesh before bringing a flat hand down to it, smacking it just hard enough to make you whimper.

"Dirty fucking girl. You loved getting fucked like this, don't you? Getting fucked like the pretty little slut you are just for me." Javi huffed through gritted teeth, giving your ass another smack as he dragged his cock out of your cunt before ramming it back into you.

"Mhmmmmmmhhhh- fuck- Just for- oh fuck- just for you, Javi."

He began to set a punishing pace, pounding into your g-spot, making sure that every thrust was flushed with your ass so that you took every inch of him inside you, practically punching the air out of your lungs with every stroke.

Javi felt so full inside of you, stretching you out in a way that was all consuming, the position he had you in opening you up to take as much as he could give. Your fingers tugged at the sheets, handcuffs rubbing against your wrists as you tried to brace yourself, so worked up and overwhelmed that you were nearly drooling onto the bed.

The noises coating the walls of your bedroom were unspeakably lewd- the wet squelching of your pussy, Javi's balls slapping against your ass, the wanton moans and grunts with every push and pull making your room sound borderline pornographic.

You could feel your cunt beginning to clench again, fluttering around Javi's cock as he rammed into you, your legs beginning to tremble as you could sense your third orgasm creeping through your body. With how sensitive you were, you knew the wiry hairs around the base of Javi's shaft rubbing your clit would be enough to push you over the edge again, wishing you could reach back to grab Javi's hip, digging your fingertips into his tanned and sweat-ridden skin while you came.

"Javiiiiiiii- Fuck, fuck, fuck- I'm so c-close- Don't stop, don't stop, don't, Fuck!"

With each orgasm that crashed through you, your body became more and more loose, feeling like you were melting and floating all at once, all consumed by your dizzying high while Javi's pace remained steady, fucking you through collapse.

"That's my girl. Cum all over me. Let me feel you, baby." Javi smirked, giving your ass another smack as you cried out his name, too wrecked to let any other words form in your brain besides his.

Still staying stuffed inside you, Javi was scooping his arms around your front, one splayed across your middle to keep you upright as your sat back on your knees, the other back around your neck and jaw, tilting your head to lean back on his shoulder while he sucked at your pulse point.

You were all but sobbing at this point, pathetic whimpers and moans rumbling from your chest with each deep thrust of Javi's cock only intensifying as his fingers reached down to circle your clit, so sensitive that just the presence of his hand pressing around your nerve bundle had you crying out for him.

Your face was flushed with heat, sweat beading down your temples with the warmth of Javi's chest pressed against your back, feeling your heartbeat pound so loud you could feel it in your ears.

"It's too much- fuckfuckfuck- it's too much, Javi." You whined, the pitch of your voice registering higher and higher with each word that came spilling from your mouth, starting to squirm in his grasp. Your movement only made him tighten his grip, forearm pressing into your stomach and fingers locking around your jaw as he whispered in your ear.

"Nuh uh. This is what you wanted, remember, baby?" Javi tutted, somehow feeling like he was fucking into you even deeper than before, "You're gonna take what I give you. You're gonna cum for me one more time. Cum for me one more time and then I'm gonna fill you so fucking full of me that I'm gonna leak out of you for days and make sure you remember exactly who this pussy belongs to."

The pads of his fingers pressed more firmly into your clit as they circled faster and faster, each snap of his hips crashing into your g-spot, the volume of your cries growing so loud, you had never been more thankful you didn't have any neighbors close by you were worried about hearing you.

"You're taking me so well, baby. C'mon, just one more, Hermosa. Be a good girl and give me one more. I know you can take it. Take it, take it, take it-" He groaned, chanting with each thrust with a low rumble in his throat, bearing his gritted teeth and flared nostrils as he fucked into you, knowing with the way your pussy was gripping him like a vice, you didn't need much more to get where he wanted you to go.

"Javi, Javi, Javi, Javijavijavijaviiiiii-ahhhhhh! Fuck!"

You were convinced that if Javi hadn't been holding you down, you would have floated away, cumming so hard that your vision went white, everything around you feeling like it was moving in slow motion as pleasure swept through every inch of your body, slumping into Javi, now finally chasing his own high.

"Did so good for me, baby. So fucking good." Javi praised, voice sweetening softly as he held you pressed to his chest, kissing and nipping at the damp skin on your shoulder. "Gonna fuck you so full of my cum. Bet you wish I could still knock you up, huh? Let everyone know who you belong to. Let them know that this perfect little pussy is all mine. I'm- oh fuck- I'm so fucking close. Feels so fucking good. Mierda- I love you so muc-ahhhhhhh-"

Javi's incoherent babbles were cut off by a final stutter of his hips, balls drawing up into his stomach as he spilled deep inside of you, warm ropes of his cum painting your velvety walls.

Still keeping himself stuffed inside you, you could feel the mix of your spend seeping out your spent hole and down your thighs, the dripping only exacerbated by the heavy heaving and panting of both of your chests, rising and falling in sync, so blissfully fucked out from your highs.

After a few seconds, Javi came to, pulling out of you with a hiss, reaching over the side of the bed to shuffle through his pants pockets, digging up the keys to the handcuffs and unlocking your wrists, gently kissing them where the metal had left red marks on your skin.

"Lay down, baby girl, lemme take care of you, okay?" Javi cooed, the flip of his demeanor instantly switching back to tender and soft, pressing a kiss into your messy hair as he shuffled to your ensuite, coming back with a warm washcloth to gently wipe up the mess between your legs.

"You've taken care of me plenty, Javier Peña. I don't think I'm gonna be able to walk for the next week." You giggled softy, still giving your heart rate a chance to come down to normal.

Javi tossed the washcloth into the hamper next to your bed, crawling next to you and pulling you close to lay your head on his chest, tracing dainty circles with his thumb across your skin. "Are you okay? It wasn't too much? Sorry if I got carried away or-"

"Javi! Baby, why are you apologizing?" You asked, looking up at Javi as you felt his shoulders shrug beneath you.

"I just- I don't ever wanna hurt you, Hermosa.

"If you're trying to get me to stroke your ego and tell you that you have a huge dick, then yes, you do." You teased, the two of you softly snorting while Javi rolled his eyes at you.

"Shut up, you know what I mean." Javi huffed, giving you a playful nudge.

"You take such good care of me, Jav. I know you would never mean to hurt me. Besides, I asked and you delivered. This was hot as fuck. This honestly may be a top 5 of all time." You smirked, nudging him right back.

"Yeah? God, you're so fucking sexy. We still got it after all these years, huh?" Javi smiled, pulling you closer to his chest, tickling you with kisses across your face.

"Yeah we do. Although maybe next time we get some more comfortable handcuffs. Those things do not feel good."

"Honey, they're meant to be used on actual criminals breaking the law. They're not supposed to be comfortable." Javi teased, laughing at your suggestion.

The two of you lay in silence for a moment, a peaceful and content quiet washing over you, basking in the warmth each other's bodies tangled together in a mess between your sheets.

"Do you ever miss it?"

"Miss what, Osita?"

"I don't know- having a more exciting job, getting to handcuff actual criminals, not just your wife. I just- I know that you always say how different and boring your job is now, and if you ever wanted to go back to doing something like what you used to then-" Before you could finish your thought, Javi was cutting you off with a passionate kiss, gently cradling your cheek in his palm, looking at you with those sweet brown eyes you loved so much.

"I don't ever miss it. My boring office job gave me a life where I have the most beautiful, amazing wife and daughters. There's nothing in the world that would ever make me even have a chance of giving that up. Besides..." Javi paused, sneaky smirk spread across his face.

"Besides what, Jav?"

"Using the handcuffs on you is way more fun."

@chaotic-iguana @rhoorl @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

@pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24

@3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @raspberrybesitos

@partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo

@endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @milly-louise

@jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled

@pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper @vee-bees-blog

@hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr

@amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler @burningnerdchild

@copperhalfcent @theoraekenslover @bloodyinspirationaldemon @vee-bees-blog

@samgirl4life @pigeonmama @survivingandenduring @itsokbbygrl @javierpena-inatacvestnotifs

[shinestarhwaa]

BENEFITS || SEONGHWA & SAN

In which you accidentally walk in on Seonghwa riding San's big cock

Genre: Smut

Pairing: Seonghwa x San x Fem reader

Word Count: 2.5K

Tags/Warnings: Threesome, Idol!San, Idol!Seonghwa, staff!Y/N, switch!San, sub!Seonghwa, dom!y/n, m x m, anal sex, voyeurism, masturbation, handjob, oral sex, degrading, praise, dirty talk, unprotected sex, namecalling, bigdick!San, fingersucking, 69-position, use of toys, orgasm denial, facial, double penetration, breeding kink

Taglist: @anyamaris @a-soft-hornytiny @whatudowhennooneseesyou @wooyoungmybelovedhusband @woosanbby @dreamlesswonder86 @changbinslovelylegs @jonghostie @lovjensoo @mjyungi @bratty-tingz @sugarnspice630 @wisejudgedragonhairdo @mingisg00dgirl @vesvosmozhno @therealcuppicake @unholywriters @enbymingi @jjoongstar

ENJOY!

It was not unusual that you stayed over at your friends' dorms. After all you have known them ever since the guys became a group. You have worked with the boys from the start and watched them grow throughout the careers, and during those years your bond with them grew as well, becoming the closest friends with them.

You got off work about an hour ago and after you went home to freshen up and change clothes you made your way to one of the boys' dorms. You hadn't been at Seonghwa, San and Mingi's dorm in a while so you decided to surprise them with some snacks and a movie night. You ran into Mingi in one of the hallways and greeted him with a hug. ''Where are you off to, Min?'' you asked him. ''Oh, my family is in town so I'm gonna go grab some dinner and a movie! But San and Seonghwa are home, they'll be thrilled to spend a night with you I'm sure!'' Mingi was so giddy it made you laugh out loud.

''Well have fun, you, I'll see you soon!''

You waved Mingi 'goodbye' and you made your way to their dorm. You pressed their code on the doorlock and entered, taking off your shoes and coat and put the bag of snacks on the counter in the kitchen. You frowned at the weird noises you heard from one of the guys' rooms. You entered San's first, but it was empty and surprisingly tidy. You quietly closed the door before walking over to Seonghwa's room.

The strange noises got louder and through the closed door you couldn't exactly figure out what it was. Knowing Seonghwa he would either be watching some K-drama or playing some new game on his Switch, you thought to yourself. But nothing could have ever prepared you for what you saw when you opened the door.

Seonghwa was sat on San's lap, both guys naked from the waist down. San's hands roamed Seonghwa's body as he bounced in San's lap, letting out a loud moan. You gasped loudly and your eyes widened, your body freezing in shock.

Both men turned their heads towards you instantly, shocked they've been caught fucking. ''H-Holy shit,'' you stammered, gripping onto the doorframe so you wouldn't pass out from shock. Your hands and legs were shaking as you saw Seonghwa's hard, leaking cock peak from under his sweater and you saw it twitch. And twitch again.

''Y/N...,'' San started, ''we... did not expect you.'' You nodded. ''Clearly.'' ''I'm sorry we- Hyung will you stop clenching around my cock?'' San sighed. ''I c-can't help it I might just come,'' Seonghwa whined. You swallowed thickly. ''I... I'll let you finish,'' you said quickly, ready to exit the room before Seonghwa shouted, ''No!''

''N-No, stay...,'' he panted. San looked confused for a second, but soon enough he agreed. ''Yeah... Why don't you stay actually?'' San suggested, ''Don't you see how much little Hwa gets off on this? Don't you think it's fun to play with him?'' San teased. You nodded slowly and before you could change your mind you closed the door behind you and leaned against it.

''Well, are you, Hwa?'' you asked. Seonghwa looked at you with big, round, pleading eyes. ''W-What?'' ''Are you getting off on getting caught by me? Doing something so... so dirty? Is that gonna make you come sitting on San's dick?'' you spoke.

This wasn't like you, you weren't this kinky, this good of a dirty talker. But it came naturally to you. The way your dear friend Seonghwa looked like such a good cockslut, so disheveled. ''Are you gonna answer her?'' San grunted as he bucked his hips up, fucking into a whining Seonghwa. ''Y-Yes I'm gonna come, gonna come,'' he babbled.

You walked closer, sitting down on his desk. Seonghwa looked deeply into your eyes, as if he was begging for something. You took his leaking cock in your hand and you barely started jerking him off before he came over your fingers with a loud cry. San slowed down his movements and held him tight to his body with his hands on the elder's hips.

The feeling of Seonghwa's hot, fresh cum on your fingers made your pussy clench around nothing, and you could feel yourself get wetter. You held your fingers in front of his plump, pink lips and said, ''Suck.'' Seonghwa was slightly startled but opened his mouth and sucked your fingers clean.

''That's a good boy, hm? Being such a good boy right now,'' San said as he slowly carressed his back to calm him down. Seonghwa moaned around your fingers and nodded eagerly. He sucked at your fingers like it was a big, juicy cock, and he was so eager you swore you couldn't take it any longer.

You pulled your fingers away from him and took off your sweater, your lacy red bra catching their eyes. ''I'm gonna need one of you to fuck me, like right now.'' Seonghwa eagerly got up from San's lap, San following after. You took off your pants too, laying down on Seonghwa's neat bed.

''Your room is so tiny, gosh, there's barely enough room to get fucked in here,'' you muttered as Seonghwa and San - now fully naked - also got on the bed with you. San laughed, ''I like a challenge, don't you?'' ''Zip it, smart ass,'' you said, grabbing his jaw. San was startled at the sudden action and instantly shut his mouth.

Right in this moment it occured to you that you could be in charge if these two if you wanted to. They looked so drunk on their lust you were sure they'd do whatever you'd ask them to do. ''Eat me out,'' you ordered them. They wasted no time in getting your bra and panties off, ripping them slightly in the proces.

Kisses were pressed onto your body left and right, literally, and they traced your lips, your jaw, your neck towards your tits, and down towards your wet awaiting cunt. You spread your legs as wide as you could and both guys settled between them.

The tension in the room was so thick you could cut it with a knife. The way San and Seonghwa looked up at you made your brain foggy. First you felt San's velvet tongue on your inner thigh, licking a stripe up to your pussy. He circled the tip of his tongue around your clit, earning a whine from you. Seonghwa dipped his face slightly lower so he could prod his long tongue at your entrance. You felt him slip in and out repeatedly while San focussed on your sensitive clit.

Sure, you have fantasized about the members before but actually acting on it? No, you had never planned on that. Although a threesome with San and Seonghwa must be the best case scenario here. You felt so powerful and pleased, having two of the most handsome men on earth feasting on your wetness. You moaned louder and ran your hands through their hair.

San's hand fondled your breast as well, softly playing with your sensitive nipple. Your breathing quickened and your hips bucked up into their faces as the pleasure began to take over your body, completely overruling you. Your eyes rolled back and you cried out as you came. They gently rode out your orgasm and Seonghwa slightly bit your thigh, which made you come back to earth.

''Was that pleasing enough, Y/N?'' San grinned, peppering kisses up your stomach and chest. ''Hmm, we're not done here, you know,'' you smirked. ''What do you want, Y/N?''

''Hm... I gotta say I did enjoy watching the two of you... San lay down,'' you said, standing up to make place for him. San laid down and looked at you nervously. ''Seonghwa.''

Seonghwa looked at you once more, those big brown eyes still pleading as hard as ever. ''You... Hmm... You sit on his face, darling,'' you said. Seonghwa looked at you, kind of shocked. ''Sit on his wh-'' ''Now.'' you said in a stern voice. Seonghwa nodded and looked at San, who couldn't help but play with his cock even at the thought.

The eldest moved towards San and hovered above his face. San grabbed Seonghwa's ass in his hands and pulled him down, licking a stripe up his hole. Seonghwa whimpered and leaned down, getting face to face with San's large cock. Without any hesitation he took his member into his mouth and sucked it skillfully. You watched Seonghwa's mouth bob up and down as San ate him out. The sounds were so sinful you could have never imagined it.

You looked around the room and noticed a dark box halfway shoved under his bed. It was slightly open and you could see something bright pink. Knowing Seonghwa now this could only mean one thing. You pulled the box from under the bed and opened it, confirming your suspicions. The box was filled with toys. A devlish smirk played on your lips as you looked through the various options.

Seonghwa released San's cock from his mouth with a delicious pop. ''W-What are you doing, Y/N? T-That's a secre-'' ''If it's secret you need to put it away correctly. And what am I gonna do with it? I'm about to use some of these on our precious Sanie.''

That made San pull away from Seonghwa's puckering hole. ''Wh-What are you going to do to me?'' You grinned and sat in front of him on the bed. You pulled out a smaller, slimmer dildo from Seonghwa's collection. ''What a pretty little thing... Do you use these a lot baby?'' ''I-I uhm...''

''I bet you open yourself up with this before fucking yourself on San's huge cock at night, huh?'' ''N-No we've never-'' ''Shut your mouth and put it to good use,'' you ordered, silencing Seonghwa. He went back to sucking San off, but San could no longer concentrate at anything because he was nervous for what was coming.

You parted San's legs and drizzled a little bit of strawberry flavoured lube on it. You carefully slid it into San, who cried out at the stretch. You smirked and turned the vibration up. ''Is this your first time Sanie?'' ''Y-Yes, oh God, please, please be gentle,'' he pleaded, nails digging into Seonghwa's skin.

''Hm, I'll be nice, Sanie, because you are a good boy for me aren't you? Maybe you overpower Seonghwa but you're just a needy little boy for me, isn't that right?'' ''Y-Yes, that's right,'' San obeyed, whimpering as you pushed the vibrator deeper inside him - but not deep enough for him to be satisfied.

But with the way Seonghwa hungrily sucked his fat cock he started to get closer and closer to climaxing. Before he could do so you pulled the toy out and threw it to the side. ''Off, Hwa,'' you ordered him, and quickly he obeyed. San sulked when his orgasm was denied, but pulled himself together when he saw the stern look on your face.

You leaned in closer and took San's girthy cock in your hand. You pumped it up and down and soon enough San felt his orgasm come closer and closer again. ''That's it Sanie, you can come now, and you're gonna come all over Seonghwa's pretty face hm?''

''Yes, please, please come on my face, fuck,'' Seonghwa cursed, positioning himself right in front of San's crotch. You tapped San's cock on Seonghwa's lips a few times, earning a slight whimper from the eldest. Seonghwa opened his mouth wide, tongue open and that was all San needed to burst. He came in thick ropes of white, hot cum, streaking Seonghwa's lips, tongue, nose and cheek.

''My good boys... well done,'' you smirked. You carefully traced his cock again. ''You're still hard, Sanie, do you want another turn? Maybe you want to come in my pretty pussy this time?'' His eyes widened at those words and he nodded enthusiastically. ''Y-Yes, please,'' he begged you, ''please let me come in your pussy too.''

You turned to Seonghwa, and asked him too, ''And do you wanna come in my pussy as well? Do you both want me?'' Seonghwa scooched closer and pressed kisses in your neck. ''Yeah, please, wanna fill your pussy, please?''

''Mhm, lay down, Hwa, I'll get on top of you,'' you say as you helped him lay down. You straddled him, caressing his silky soft skin. Carefully you sank down on Seonghwa's shaft, letting him fill you up completely. You throw your head back and let out a long moan as you start to slowly move.

Suddenly you feel two firm hands on the back of your thighs, roaming your soft skin. The stretch burned in your core and you whimpered, feeling so full now San has snugly slid his cock besides Seonghwa's inside your needy cunt.

He pushed you down onto Seonghwa's chest, so now you are face to face with him. Your eyes glid over Seonghwa's cum-covered face, still ever so stunning. You moved yourself up and down the two cocks, meeting San's thrusts in the process. The way he rolled his hips felt so deliciously good you started to give in to the immense pleasure and let your mind get clouded.

The thrusting, slapping of sweaty skin on sweaty skin and the sinful moans and whimpers were adding to your pleasure. Seonghwa's hand ran up to your cheek to cup it as he lost himself in his pleasure. ''I'm coming, I'm coming, fuck!'' he cried. ''Come for me, you're gonna breed my little pussy, hm? Breed that little pussy of mine and fuck me full with your come,'' you moan shamelessly. This sends Seonghwa over the edge, spilling his seeds deep inside you. He sighs deeply as he slips his cock out of you, but holding you as San still ruthlessly slams into you.

San's moans became louder and his thrusts became erratic. You were writhing underneath him, squirming underneath his body as your legs trembled, your orgasm washing over you like a big wave. You screamed out as you reached your climax. San followed you soon after, emptying his balls inside you with a loud grunt.

He rode out your orgasms and slowly pulled out, watching your pussy leak immediately. He smirks before laying down on his side, pulling you on his chest to calm down.

When the three of you calmed down from your highs you grinned softly. ''What?'' San asked. ''Was this really the first time you guys fucked?'' San and Seonghwa looked at each other hesitantly.

''Well, we've done... things, you know. It started with masturbating together, just releasing pent up energy and that turned into handjobs... blowjobs and a whole lot of groping.''

''You two are so dirty oh my God,'' you laughed, ''does anyone know?'' ''Well dear God I hope not!'' San sighed. ''It's not like we're a thing... It's just like... friends with benefits,'' Seonghwa explained. You nodded and gently cleaned Seonghwa's face off.

''Do you think I could benefit too from now on?'' you laughed. ''You don't even have to ask, Y/N, we ain't letting you go anywhere.''

[jesusatemysnatch]

“anything? that right?”

old!logan howlett x f!reader

summary: you end up in logan’s shop with an oil leak and can’t afford to pay him

wc: 2.3k (i’m in hell the brain rot is BAAAAD)

authors note: plot is very cliche like ik eat me. while writing this i took a break and got an edit of logan to tulsa jesus freak. yes i’ve lost my sanity. also i don’t know shit about shit with cars so yea

warnings/tags: MDNI. dubcon. unspecified age gap. logan is a little mean?? reader has no description besides hair long enough for logan to grab, wearing short skirt. logan grabs readers face. hair pulling. big dick logan (canon). pussy pronouns. spanking. throat fucking. degrading. tears. dirty talk. pet names. daddy kink. fingering. aggressive sex. unprotected sex (wrap it up). cream pie. orgasm denial.

your type doesn’t frequent this place, the auto shop on the edge of a town that’s seen better days. most of logan’s customers he’s had for years, he’d grown used to the faces that come through the shop, greeting people on a first name basis at this point in his career. like hell did he ever expect you. you, who stood behind him when he’s hunched down, working beneath the hood of a truck. he didn’t hear you coming, the radio on his workbench drowning out the sound of your footsteps. “shit,” he hissed, peeling back from the piece of shit he’d spent his afternoon working away at, white beater stained with oil and god knows what else. he paused abruptly when he finally noticed you, drawing in a slow breath. if he didn’t have enough on his plate, here you are. a pretty, young thing. in the thick of the summer you’re hardly dressed in much at all, a little top and a short skirt. “ain’t hear you come in,” the clear of his throat echoes off the walls as he walked towards his bench, wiping his hands with a greased up towel. “can i do for you?” his teeth clamp down on the toothpick stuck out his mouth, an oral fixation to try and keep his mind off smoking while on the job. it hardly worked for shit, nicotine always in the back of his mind. the radio gradually softens, pair of glasses pulled onto the bridge of his nose. “think i have an oil leak?” you sound unsure of it, logan nods, scribbling it down onto a forum he kept for his records. “bring ‘er in. take a look,” his boots thud quietly across the floor, walking past you to pull open the garage door. the wiring had gone out a couple months ago and he’s yet to get around to fixing it, muscles straining as he pulled the door up an over his head. he watched you pull your car in, sighing as you stepped back out. “well.. ain’t even have to look. engine sounds like shit, definitely a leak. i’ll pop underneath anyway, see f’somethin’s loose or if it’s a crack.” he nodded, wheeling his creeper out from beneath the bench with his foot. he tries not to groan as he sunk to the floor, his body too old for this shit. he pushes himself up underneath the car, brow knit in a tight furrow as he took a look around to access the problem. “oil pan has a crack, s’pretty fuckin’ bad. i can change it out for you, take me an hour.. hour an a half at most.” he nods, sat upright, an elbow propped against his bent knee. your expression flashes with annoyance and he thought to himself that you looked like a fucking brat, but god damn did you wear it so well. he fights back with the corner of his lips that threatens to tug up.

logan gathered up what he needed, not paying you any mind as you’re left with not much other choice but to sit and wait for him to finish on your car. dressed like this he figured you had better places to be, but he didn’t give a fuck. you came to him, and the way he saw it was your choices were limited to accepting the help and learning some patience or ruining your car. he’s good at the work he does, it’s why he has so many loyal customers, why he’s been in business so long. he could’ve given you some grief for the look you gave him when he told you about the wait- and he still might. “she’s good as new.” he nodded, sliding out from beneath the car with your cracked oil pan. his chest is slick with sweat, glistening under the dull lighting. he brushed his dirty hands against the thighs of his jeans as he stood, tossing your old cracked pan into the trash as he approached his work bench again, quickly jotting down the work that he’d done. “s’goin’ to be.. nine hundred fifty three. s’for the replacement, fresh oil and that god damn look you gave me earlier.” he nods, dropping the clipboard onto the desk. “take cash or card.” his arms cross over his broad torso, forehead creasing as his brow sunk in. “this is a joke, right?” you ask, scoffing out a laugh as you look up at him though his expression doesn’t let up, unamused. “do i look like m’makin’ a fuckin’ joke, sweetheart?” his jaw is clamped tight, his tone flat, serious. “you can’t charge me for a look?” “i can charge you whatever the hell i feel like. i had other shit goin’ on.. could’ve made you wait a hell of a lot longer.” you scoff out in disbelief at him, shaking your head. “i don’t have nine hundred dollars.” you finally admit and logan’s head dropped forward, a low chuckle coming from his lips. when you didn’t pull out a card he knew this shit was going happen. he saw right through you. “alright so.. let me get this straight, sweetheart. you came here for me to look at your car knowin’ you didn’t have the god damn money to pay for it? is that right?” he lacks sympathy for you, pretty as you were you had another thing coming if you thought you were going to pull a fast one on him. “i might be old, girl, but i ain’t no fuckin’ fool. i tell you what.. no money, no fuckin’ keys.” his voice is low, your keys dangled around his finger and he shoves them down into his pocket. he walks away from you, too god damn angry to be stood in front of you, having wasted enough time on you already. “please, you don’t understand.. i need my car. i can pay you what i have right now and bring you the rest next week, please.” you beg, coming up behind him where he’s hunched over again beneath the hood of someone else’s vehicle, the same one he’d been working on when you arrived. “ain’t my god damn problem.” he muttered, biceps flexing beneath his tanned skin as he tightened a bolt in place. “i’ll do anything.” you plea again and logan slowly stops what he’s doing, looking down at the truck battery he was working at. he sighed loudly, recomposing himself as he peeled back from the truck, walking towards the garage door. he reached up, muscles flexing across his back as he pulled the door shut, closing off the inside of his shop from the street view.

“anything? that right?” he’s standing before you now, looking down at your shorter frame. “anything.”* you repeat in a whisper. he drew in a slow, deep breath as your palm slid over the front of his dirty jeans, stepping closer into you until you’re tucked between him and the truck. he groans when your squeeze your palm around him through the denim, your lips curling up to a sinisterly sweet smile when you tug at his belt. he grabs your face hard, lips puffed out slightly when he pulled you in for a kiss. it’s sloppy, his tongue lapping across your lips before dipping into your mouth, an anger filled hunger. he’s pissed off, but you’re pretty enough that he’d be willing to accept your throat as some sort of payment. he looks down at you as you pull back from his kiss, sinking to your knees. he appreciates that you had no issue getting to the point. “i reckon you must’ve been thinkin’ about this the entire time, sweetheart.” logan mused as you grabbed his cock out from inside his jeans, moaning at the sight of him. “bet you ain’t ever seen a cock that big huh, girl?” the palm of his hand pets against the back of your head as you stroke him slowly, his shaft filling out your small palm. “hands behind your back.” he nods slowly, gathering your hair into his fist, holding the back of your head with a tight grasp. he taps the weight of his cock against your tongue before he lays his base flat against you, slowly pulling his hips back as your warm tongue licked over the veins that protrude from tightened foreskin. “nice an wide.” he mutters, feeding the head of his cock into your mouth, a grunt parting his lips when he brushed the back of your throat. god damn. “you’re goin’ to sit here and take it like a champ. reckon you ought’a think about havin’ my god damn money next time. stupid girl.” he warned you before his hips draw back and roll forward, pushing the length of his cock down the curve of your throat. it’s lewd, the repeated squelch of your throat as he pushes himself inside again and again. “should’a known you’d be this big of a slut when i saw you. cute little fuckin’ outfit, barely wearin’ anythin’ at all. just knew how to get an old man goin’.” he grunts, unbothered by the tears that have begun to roll over your cheeks. he’s selfish, using your throat to his advantage, balls slapping the underside of your chin. the cute outfit you’d turned up in ruined by your own slop of saliva as it dribbled out the corners of your mouth. “good fuckin’ girl. payin’ off every fuckin’ dollar.” his skin is slick with sweat, head lulling back against his shoulders, blinded by the dull white light above him. your throat is exactly what he needed at the end of a shitty week, and he had no shame in taking out his stress on you, sure you wouldn’t be forgetting him anytime soon.

when he finally lets up you choke out a cough, spit strung between his soaked cock and your mouth, breathing hard as you look up at him with watery eyes. still, you come chasing for more, hands sat on his denim clad thighs as you licked your tongue along his cock, gasping in a breath of air before you took him back into your throat, craving the feeling once more. “fuck’n hell.. look at you. must really need that god damn car, huh?” his fingers move into your hair again, yanking your mouth back off his cock so he could pull you up from the floor. “ain’t that right, princess? you’d do anythin’ for those keys back, huh?” “yes, daddy.” you choke out and what patience logan had left snaps, swiftly turning you around by the hold he has on your hair. he lifts the skirt up over the swell of your ass, palm of his hand roughly swatting against. you. once, twice, three times. your cheeks are stained red as your legs tremble, impatiently waiting for him to give you more. “let me see ‘er.” logan nods, bent over you and he pulled your panties to the side, spreading your cheeks so he had a perfect view of both holes, your pussy slick with your own arousal.

“you like gettin’ treated like a slut.” he acknowledged, spitting against his fingers before he brings them to your pussy, fingertips swirling your clit before he pressed two long fingers into your core, free hand wrapped around your throat. he stroked his fingers slowly at first but gained speed as your arousal coated him, making it easier for him to plunge his fingers into your tight hole, biceps flexing with each stroke of his fingers, feeling out the warmth of your walls, infatuated with the way your pussy sucks his fingers back in. he grins at the gasp you take in when he replaces his fingers with the head of his cock, pushing yourself up straighter as he sunk himself deep into your pussy. “daddy,” you softly grab at the hand he has around the middle of your throat, moaning as his chest presses up against your back. “you ever been stretched out this good before?” he asks beside your ear, breathing out a quiet laugh when you shake your head no. he grabs your face again, pulling your lips back to his when he fucks into you, hard strokes that press your hips against the grill of the truck, sure to leave you with bruises in days following. he swallows the moans you cry out, roughly driving his hips into yours. he’s unrelenting, giving himself to you hard the way you deserve it, the way you so evidently love it. it’s been a long god damn time since he had pussy this good, and fuck was he obsessed with yours, cursing himself for fixing the troubles your car had given you instead of giving you the run around to keep you coming back for more. hell, with the way you’re fucking yourself back onto his cock you just might anyway. “you’re going to make me cum, daddy,” you choke out, and he grabs at your hips, pulling him deeper into your sopping cunt. “that right? this ain’t even about you, princess. this was for me, remember? who says you’re allowed to cum?” he is brow furrows, getting a rise out of the way you while beneath him, small hands grabbing at the truck. “please, i know it’s not about me but please let me cum, daddy.” you whine, legs trembling beneath you, threatening to cave under your weight. he doesn’t respond, just fucking into your stretched core while you beg him to cum again and again. he ignored you until he spilled first, filling you with thick ropes of his cum, hips flush against yours so you take every drop deep inside. “you want to cum now, sweetheart?” he asked and you nod, rocking your hips back against him as your chase your own high.

needless to say, logan was more than willing to return your keys. and you.. well you might purposefully pop a tire soon.

[6ronze]

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃

jujutsu kaisen w SAMURAI!TOJI FUSHIGURO. format. fic. warnings. fluff + hurt/comfort + nsfw. mdni. fem!reader. beating mention. spanking mention. pretty domestic and vanilla ngl. lots of praise(good girl, etc). a bit of dirty talk. fingering. endearments. wife!reader. toji in denial that he’s stupidly in love. summary. samurai!toji w his pretty wife + non-sorcerer au so he’s just miserable here

author’s note. gcbuiawbf got this idea out of nowhere. a bit inspired by hell’s paradise.

toji zenin. His birth name given by his parents along with all the responsibilities he never knew he was obliged to carry. If his soul while a fetus was informed that he was about to be born in a family where prowess reigned supreme and the right to be treated as a human had be fought for, perhaps he would have never wished to be born at all.

Against his will, he was birthed by his mother anyway, having to be scowled at and ostracised by his own clan which was said to be family. Growing up as a child, he learned what he had wasn’t family by the sight he was greeted with when he went out to the capital—children his age, running around with colourful toys in hand instead of a sword. And most importantly, they laughed. Smiled even.

It was something so mundane—a smile—yet something so foreign to him. The only smile he knew of at that age was the smile his relatives had when they kicked him on the ground, using the wooden sword he was given to train to hit him instead. The only smile he knew, was one full of sadism.

The older he got, the stronger he became, the more he realised he was slowly starting to pick up that same trait from them.

Very so often, he’d accept challenges from his peers or outsiders that wanted to humiliate him and his skills, looking down at him despite his bloodline of the Zenin clan.

He’d unsheathe his the katana he had resting on his hip, lazily taking stance and staring the arrogant man dead in the eyes with his own void eyes.

Such duels would end with the same outcome—toji having them laid on the ground, the sharp edge of his long katana dangerously close to the opponent’s neck. Sometimes—just sometimes, he’d smile. Just sometimes, he’d unintentionally make a thin cut to the neck just enough to draw blood.

He would be lying if he said the view from above wasn’t satisfying, the feeling of finally being the one looking down on someone as pathetic as the ones that humiliated him for years. The sneer he’d make with his lifeless eyes under the thin shadow that masked his face from his muscular and tall physique would make anyone think their life was about to be taken in a blink of an eye. But he wouldn’t. Toji would spare himself the trouble of having to face his elders for making a scene out of nothing.

Toji’s lived at the isolated quarters of the zenin estate for years—and that wasn’t about to change. It was where his mother birthed him and died—and so it would be where he would live and die.

The very least he would expect or care about was having a wife to continue his bloodline despite his progressing age. He knew better than to be greedy and trap a lady to the hell he lived in. Besides, he had absolutely no intentions of taking the ladies he’d frequently meet at the brothels out in town as his lover, let alone as his wife.

So the news of the elders arranging him a wife from another samurai clan shocked him. It was early morning when he was informed of such news, he had almost spat out his sake. The only thing he could utter in response was a loud, deep, huh?

Toji finally met you face to face after hearing your name being repeated by his elders when he had a meeting with them. Your family name rang a bell, though he never thought much of them since they weren’t politically involved in anything other than war.

He’s sat beside you, his hair slightly better groomed and yukata straightened compared to the sloppy way he wore it before. Making an effort in his appearance was the least he could do—since he was convinced he wouldn’t bother changing a thing about himself just for your sake.

“Your wedding ceremony will be held five days from now. End of discussion,” one of his elders concluded, the leader of your clan bearing witness and agreeing. Toji merely stared head on to his peers, moving a hand to lift his cup of sake and chugging it down without a hint of respect.

After a few more minutes of discussing the details about the ceremony, he finally turned his head to look at you—his future wife. His eyes scanned you from head to toe, your figure considerably insignificant to his. From what he thought would be an average woman being wed to him, his eyes lingered on you quite some while before he glanced elsewhere, his expression unreadable still.

You two parted ways for the day and he returned to his quarters, cup of sake in hand and his arm rested on the knee of his leg that propped up while sitting on the floor, his other leg bent towards himself. Toji stared out the courtyard of the estate, trying to peel the image of you out of his head. He internally cursed himself and his elders for suddenly arranging a wife for him just because they didn’t want their reputation to be tarnished by having an unmarried man. What was he supposed to do with a woman he’s never met before anyway? Regardless, he refused to be like the men within the zenin clan that lacked sympathy towards women and children.

The wedding ceremony was brief but complete. He was the best dressed he ever was in years, with you by his side. Just some family member from your families and a brief dinner, and the ceremony was complete. You didn’t seem to say a word about it either. Deep down he wondered if you loathed him, or your parents, for setting you up the low life of the zenin clan instead of his cousins. He would never know, he didn’t want to anyway. Ignorance was bliss, he thought.

You were lead back to his quarters after the ceremony ended, the sight of the somewhat empty and undecorated room not giving you much of a shocking reaction as he had hoped. Toji didn’t know what exactly he hoped, maybe a look of horror, sorrow, or pity. Yet he looked at you only to see you nod and acknowledge him, your expression remaining calm as if saying ‘I can work with this’.

Your first night together was mostly silent, perhaps a bit awkward whenever he tried offering you a blanket and separate futon to sleep in. While you thought that he didn’t like you, he was worried (albeit in denial) that you’d be uncomfortable sleeping with him.

To his and your surprise, you ended up having a brief yet meaningful talk that same night while you were both in your respective futons, about to sleep. He liked that you didn’t have expectations, understanding of his situation and yours now that you’re his legal wife. Maybe you weren’t so bad.

Months had passed since your wedding. And he’s become increasingly close to you—he’s fond of you, is what he would say in his own words. Though in the eyes of servants, others that weren’t blind, could see just how infatuated he was with you.

With how he’s stopped going to the brothel he so frequents in the capital, with how he’s become more hostile to those who insult you, it was quite clear how he cared for you, at least. Though what they didn’t know was how flirty he is with you behind closed doors, how he it was simply impossible for him to keep his hands to himself whenever he was in close proximity with you. He was insatiable. Not that you’d tell that to anyone. Unless you wanted a good spanking in the privacy of your quarters.

“What’d I tell you about gossiping with the maids, hm?” He’d murmur against the skin of your neck from behind you, his hard body pressing up against your soft one. His hands were all over you, the curve of your hip and the soft flesh of your breast that he had cupped over your loosening kimono, his calloused fingers circling your nipple making you shiver and squirm.

“I wasn’t gossiping, you fool,” you mumbled, your breath shaky and your body writhing in vain attempts to rid yourself of his touch.

“Then what were you doing? Bragging? Complaining?” You heard from the shell of your ear, his hot breath fanning your skin and the sound of his breathy laugh making you groan in frustration in embarrassment.

“Neither,” you huffed, settling yourself down on the futon with his arm under you still, holding you close to him.

“Liar,” he quickly refuted, his lips grazing the skin behind your ear and slipping his hand under your robe, searching to cup one of your tits and fondling it the second he captured it. His other hand moved down to your thighs, hooking his fingers under the slit of your robe and pulling it away to reveal your bare thighs, and exposing a hint of your dampening heat.

“There’s my beauty,” he whispered, his eyes flickering down your body from your shoulder to see the present he unwrapped for himself, your pretty cunt. He’s reminded you so many unneeded times before that he owned it, you. His calloused fingers slid to the apex of your legs, parting your puffy folds since your legs remained insistent on keep closed.

“Toji—” you started only to quickly be silenced with a deliberate stroke of his finger up your slit, the pad of said finger resting on your clit. The sudden touch made your lips part to exhale a shaky moan, your eyes looking down between your legs to see the movement of his hand.

“Yeah? Need something, sweetheart?” He hummed by your shoulder, burying his face into the crook of your neck to feast on your skin. While his teeth nibbled and marked you up, his finger on your clit began rubbing deliberate circles, feeling you up until he felt it twitching against the pad of his digit. Before you knew it, he had parted your folds further, slipping his thick middle fingers into your entrance, revelling in the way it made you squirm against him, your ass rubbing against his hip. You could only answer him with pathetic mewls that were only music to his ears, knowing damn well he wouldn’t be giving you much time to catch your breath to utter coherent words.

“Thought so, baby,” he scoffed triumphantly at your soft moans, his fingers curling inside you as he thrusted it in and out of your slowly, making sure to leave brief harsh kisses on your g-spot to keep you wanting, to keep you clenching around his digit in need but not enough to make you cum.

“You’re so tight around my finger, darling, can’t imagine how much tighter you’d get when I have my cock buried inside you. Think you’d like that? Feelin’ stuffed?” Was what he kept on whispering to you while he bottomed his finger in and out of you at a steady pace, making sure you’re feeling it as much as he was—and fuck was he feeling it. Even if he had you drunk on his finger, you weren’t exactly oblivious to prodding of his cock on your lower back. You just didn’t have the capacity to focus on it, not when he was turning you on with the mere thought and descriptions of him fucking you.

Toji felt you beginning to spams around him, your voice getting more and more high-pitched and whiny along with your nipples hardened to peaks between his cruel fingers. Signs of you being close to cumming was everywhere and he noticed them all, though he led you on to brink just to pull away when you needed him most.

“Yeah, not on my finger baby. You know where I want you most—where I want you best,” he grinned, his voice gravelly and hoarse as his breath brushed against your already warm skin.

Toji slid his finger out of you with slowly, savouring the way your juices coated him. The mere sight of his slick finger assured him that you were ready for—so fuckin’ ready.

“C’mere,” he mumbled, his free hand now slipping under your thigh, lifting your leg up to forcefully part your legs knowing you’d cramp yourself while trying to keep it up for him. “Yeah, ‘m here,” he assured from behind you when he finally took notice how you kept calling out his name, your voice all whiny and shaky in desperation. He positioned himself from behind you, shifting his hips and snuggling closer to you to lose whatever distance you still had left between each other.

“Feel that? ‘M all hard and ready for you, baby. Just like how ready you are for me,” he cooed, tugging on his own yukata to free his raging hard on, letting the thick girth slick with precum prod your ass, earning a needy whimper from you. He couldn’t help but stare at your side profile, taking in the sight of his wife making such expressions you’d never make for anyone but him.

His arm under your body curled your body suffocating close to him, making sure you could feel his chest against your back and his chin buried on the top of your head, alternating the choice of preying on the skin of your neck or ear.

After a moment of teasing, he finally slid his cock over to your wet folds, letting the tip mingle his precum with your slick juices before he pushed upwards, slowly penetrating your entrance that fluttered around him already, making it hard for him to go further.

“Fuck, princess—you gotta relax. I know you can take me in like a good girl,” he groaned, his jaw clenching at the feeling your soft flesh against his tip before you finally relax, letting him push further into you. He kept on uttering filthy encouragements by your ear while he made you take him in inch by inch until the hilt, his head tilting to kiss down your neck. He stayed still for a moment to let you adjust to his size, not letting that moment go on for too long until he started bottoming in and out of you with you slow, deliberate thrusts, your leg trembling in his hand.

“All mine—this tight cunt’s all mine.” The foul words that reached your ears would have normally had you recoiling in disgust but now, knowing those words came from him, it only made you moan shamelessly in his arms, your insides churning with pleasure and need to chase that high that he so often gave you. His need for you was palpable, almost equivalent to yours with how his hand kept alternating between your tits while he fucked you, his pace quickening now that the knot in his loins was tightening.

Your shared bedroom room was filled with nothing was the scent of your arousals, the lewd squelching sounds of his thrusts into you and loud shared moans. Toji’s hips didn’t stop for even a moment to let any of you rest, not when he was so close, you were so close. His grip on your breast tightened along with his grasp that help your thigh up, his hips bucking into your until he felt his balls tighten, his cock eventually spurting ropes of his thick semen into your canal, his movements jerky until he stopped. He nestled his cock into you until the hilt, unloading himself and letting you clench all around him.

He savoured the feeling with heavy pants, deep growls on satisfaction leaving him when he realised you came with him. Toji kept himself inside you for a while, not showing any signs of pulling out as you both basked in the afterglow.

He’d finally lower your leg down, humping against you lazily now that you’ve both came down from your high. Toji cradle you close to him, his hand slipping out of your robe to move his hand to your stomach instead, his face buried in your hair as he inhaled your natural scent and the musk of your mixed fluids that had began to ooze out you.

“Think you’d be up for another round after this, darling?” His low voice breathless voice met your ears, earning himself an annoyed frown which he merely chuckle at in response.

[adragonprinceswhore]

Sexting & Taking Nude Pics w/ Hockey player!Aemond

Warnings: 18+, smut, AFAB reader, naughty pictures, degradation, teasing, masturbation, edging, manhandling, orgasm denial, P in V

A/N: Sometimes ovulation wins.

Inspired by this amazing art by @novembermorgon 🩵

“Where's my reward?”

An amusement snort leaves your nose. The game only ended a few moments ago, yet he's greedily demanding that you send him what you'd promised.

“Only winners get rewarded”

“I won.”

You smile to yourself as you type, fingers quickly moving over the screen.

"We won*"

"Whatever. Send it."

"Winning by sudden death doesn't count. You should've scored before it went into overtime"

You see him typing, but knowing Aemond, the reply won't be a long one. The delayed answer is due to him not knowing what to say.

God, you love tormenting him.

In all fairness, you were just quoting what he'd told you before. Winning a match that goes into overtime means that the other team scores a point, even if they lose. "If you can't beat them in 60 minutes, you didn't win", he'd said.

"I'll do better next time. Please, send it."

Usually, it'd take more to make him beg. He must be desperate.

You're still smiling as you close your eyes momentarily, imagining him sneaking off to one of the bathrooms by the locker room, still breathing hard from the strenuous match and with sweat covering his face, droplets sliding down his neck and disappearing inside his away jersey.

If you were there, you'd help him out of the white shirt and shoulder pads, planting tender kisses to his wet neck, secretly craving the taste of his salty skin. He always smelled his best straight after a game.

Maybe you'd get a bit carried away and let your tongue glide over the smooth skin over his adam's apple, prompting him to huff in proud amusement as he teases you for being such a needy slut.

Unfortunately, he’s not playing home in Old Town tonight and you're not there to greet him as he exits the ice.

Instead, you've agreed on a different arrangement. Whenever his team wins a match, you send him a little reward.

Today, it’s a picture of your ass, clad in a black thong you know he likes. It had taken you a good 30 minutes to get the position, lightning and angle of your camera just right, and you weren't about to spoil that on someone who can't beat the Winterfell Dires before overtime.

"Only winners get rewarded. Do better."

Still smiling, you bite your lip to calm yourself.

You can picture it so clearly; Aemond frustratingly exhaling through his nose at your unwillingness to give him what he craves.

He's not much better himself. He's teased you to the brink of madness before; edged you until you couldn't think of anything but him.

You feel a dizzying yet pleasant rush of power wash over you as your screen lights up again.

"Please, baby. I need you"

Mischief makes the smile on your face grow wider.

"I don't entertain losers"

Oh he must be fuming. Running his hand over his face in annoyance, clicking his tongue, thinking of all the ways he wishes to make you submit to his will.

Surely only making his balls ache more with need.

"Please, I've thought about this all night. I'm so fucking hard."

Warmth spreads in your chest. You know he only wants you; that he's just as insatiable for you as you are for him.

Yet, opportunities to tease him like this do not come often.

"There's plenty of porn online. Enjoy!"

If you were with him right now, this is where he would've had enough. Picking you up and throwing you on the bed, climbing on top of you and caging you in. Pressing his heavy bulge against your core, lowly murmuring "If you don't shut up, I'll make you" into your ear.

But the distance between the two of you has robbed Aemond of his cockiness.

"Please."

"Show me"

Your mouth waters as you open the image he sends you. The large hand he has around his shaft holds on to it firmly, veins on the back of his hand and down his forearm popping out from the intense blood flow. The tip of his cock looks vexed; bright red and glistening with arousal. You press your thighs together, no longer able to ignore the pounding growing fiercer.

You type even faster than before.

"What are you thinking about right now?"

"You. About how badly I wish you were here. About how I'd fuck you in this filthy bathroom as the lads are getting ready outside"

Defeated by your own desires, you send him the picture of your ass before putting away your phone, closing your eyes and allowing your hand to travel down between your thighs.

You can see him clear as day. He's grabbing the side of the white sink with one hand, the other furiously stroking his length, eyes glued to the screen of his phone as it rests on the ceramic surface.

He's panting; biting his lip and huffing loudly through his nose. Sweat slides down from his forehead to his flustered cheeks, pooling above his parted lips, dripping down.

Staring at his reward, he thinks back to all the ways he's had you. In your flat, in his car, in the bathroom of that high-end restaurant.

His grip on the sink tightens, thinking about how he'd grabbed the flesh of your ass so harshly it left marks as he pounded into you, causing your unabated moans to echo through the room.

He bites his lip to stop the words from spilling;

"My little slut", "My dirty girl", "My good whore”

Mine.

Mine.

Aemond runs the soft pad of his thumb on your cheeks, collecting the tears of frustration spilling from your tired eyes.

“Poor thing can’t take a bit of teasing”

He’s tone is infuriatingly smug, tutting and interrupting you when you open your mouth to protest.

”Doesn’t feel nice, does it?”

No, it doesn’t feel nice.

Or does it?

You honestly don’t know what’s pleasurable anymore, being forced to the edge of pleasure but denied release time and time again.

Aemond’s fingers, lips, tongue and teeth had coaxed you into pleasure-drunk submission. They’d made you beg for permission to cum, cry for permission to cum, plea for permission to cum. But to no avail.

“Tell you what-”, he starts, seeing eye boring into yours with an intensity only ignited when he was feeling particularly bloodthirsty.

“-I’ll take some photos of you, to enjoy when I win next week’s away game, and then I’ll let you cum”

You’re beyond feeling embarrassed, head instantaneously moving up and down in a furiously eager sign of compliance.

Aemond’s teeth sink into his bottom lip to stop the amusement bubbling up inside of him from making itself know.

He must admit that he likes you best like this; completely at his mercy. His to do whatever he wants with.

Grabbing his phone from the nightstand next to the bed he’s got you caged within his arms in, he swipes his thumb over the screen to open the camera.

He admires you through the lens. The way the short, delicate hairs by your hairline stick to your sweaty forehead. The way your naked breasts still heave from exhaustion; skin damp and glistening. The way your agape mouth pants softly.

And then, your features change.

“Stop doing that”

“What?”

Aemond looks stern, like he’s about to lecture you, “Faking it. You’re posing”

“I’m not!”, you defend yourself with a high-pitched protest.

“You are”

Mind still fuzzy from the strenuous, extensive foreplay Aemond had insisted upon, you don’t know how to appease him.

What does he want?

Sensing your confusion, he places two large palms on each side of your waist, leans down to offer you a soft kiss, and flips you over so you’re on your stomach.

Being manhandled by Aemond while your senses have left your head and relocated to your throbbing centre feels comforting, so when he grabs your hips to pull your ass up, you mumble a muffled “thank you” into the mattress.

He always moves your body with soft yet commanding hands, making his display of dominance feel more like an act of adoration and care.

And he’s always so warm, soothing your exposed skin from the chill air of the hotel room.

“Look at me”, he commands softly, tracing his fingers from the small of your back down to the velvety skin of your buttocks.

Turning your head to the side, you meet his eye, watching as he picks up his phone once more with one hand, while the other grabs his hard length, stoking it briefly before lining it up with your dripping cunt.

As he finally enters you, after god knows how much excruciating teasing, you feel your body turn into jelly; pliable to his every whim.

Your fists grab the sheets of his bed with a cramp-like grip, your mouth falls open with a loud moan, and your back arches in pleasure.

And you hear a click.

Aemond smiles behind the camera, satisfied with getting the picture he’d wanted all along. He moves it down to inspect the way you eagerly take him in, swallowing his cock over and over like the greediest of gluttons.

Enthralled, he admires the way he goes in and out; stretching and shaping you from the inside.

He puts his phone to the side, both hands once again finding home in the dip of your waist. His eye flickers to your bliss-filled face, an amused, condescending laugh leaves his lips,

“Are you drooling?”

You don’t care about his taunting anymore; too filled with him to care about anything else. Aemond moves forward, resting his face right next to yours.

The damp skin of his cheek sticks to yours, his breath fans hot air over your face,

“You’re so pretty like this”

You wait for him to kiss your cheek and award your endurance by finally paying attention to your aching clit.

Instead, he leans back once more, and pulls out.

“Aemond!”, you cry, unable to hide the utter devastation you feel at being denied your peak yet again.

“If you want to come you’ll have to work for it”

He’s smug again, enjoying your desperation a bit too much for your liking. Irritated and impatient, you push him to lay on his back and sink down on him in a selfish attempt to chase your own pleasure.

To your surprise, he allows you to take command; placing one of his hands on your hip, thumb coming down to flick your clit. The other hand picks up his phone again.

“You’re close?”

“Y-, yes”

His thumb continues to rhythmically circle your bundle of nerves as the grip he has on you tightens. His hips roll up to meet yours each time you sink down.

You grab his bicep, anchoring yourself to him with nails that harshly dig into his flesh.

So close.

A few more rhythmic movements and you feel fierce pleasure erupt inside of you, causing your mouth to fall open again as you whine out your pleasure.

Click.

Click.

Click.

You’re still sitting on him, breathing heavily as you try to catch your breath and come back to reality after feeling the release of seven denied orgasms wash over you.

Suddenly, you’re on your back again, Aemond hovering over your panting form. Your face is flustered and your hair is even messier than it was before.

Click.

The smug smile on his face has morphed into pride, and perhaps there’s something more, something far more vulnerable than he’s ever allowed himself to show you, hiding behind his miss-matched gaze.

“Gevie”

Thank you for reading! I have an idea for an upcoming part about these two, but with loads of angst as well 🤩 lmao you know I can’t help myself! Kisses 😙

[rafeandonlyrafe]

never truly gone

words: 2k

alternative universe where rafe was the one to fake his death instead of ward

warnings: funeral, discussions of death and grief, established relationship, murder confession (canon murder), implications of smut (no actual sex)

you are barely tuned in to the words being spoken at the funeral, lost in the haze of grief. dressed in the same outfit you wore for your one year anniversary with rafe. it was his favorite. was. the word hits you like a ton of bricks.

it didn't feel real for the longest time, part of it still doesn't, the feeling in your gut that your boyfriend isn't truly gone, but as you pick your head up and look around, you realize you have to get over the stage of denial.

“are you okay?” your mom whispers, reaching over to squeeze your hand. you rip it immediately out of her grip. of course you're not okay. who could be after their first love, their high school sweetheart, blew up?

“now is the time that we invite anyone who would like to say a few words up to the mic.” the pastor says, looking out into the crowd, members of rafes family having already spoken.

ward turns around to look at you. he invited you to sit in the front row when you first arrived, but you didn't want that kind of attention, your every reaction being scrutinized, if you’re crying too much, or not reacting enough.

“would you like to speak y/n?” 

you look at the crumpled, tear stained piece of paper with some words scribbled on it.

“i-i don't know if i can.” you admit. ward seemed so strong when he spoke, the same pillar of community he seems to be when speaking at town halls or midsummers.

“whatever you say, im sure rafe would appreciate it.”

you nod, take a deep breath, then stand. your mind seems to blur as you walk to the front, the pastor greeting you with a soft hug then leading you to the podium.

you clear your throat before looking down at the paper. 

“i never imagined a life without you. you were the first man i ever loved and i can't… i can't see myself ever having that same love again. we changed each other so much. we went from kids to young adults planning out their life together. i love you so much, rafe. i always will no matter how much time passes.” you vow.

your next words turn robotic, talking about the family he left behind, his accomplishments, things that don't actually matter to you but you know should be said. you recount the five years you were together, knowing someone is no doubt scoffing at how little it is, but it was your whole world.

you manage to hold in your sobs until you sit back down. you spend the rest of the funeral with your head down, unable to look at the pictures hung around the church.

-- 2 months later --

you let out a groan as you turn over in bed, not wanting to wake up, wanting to spend another day rotting under the covers.

“it's almost noon.” your mom says, peaking in to the door.

“yeah.” you say, sniffling as you see the photo on your nightstand when you go to look at your alarm clock. you can't bring yourself to move it, even if it makes you cry every time you see rafes smiling face. “i know.”

“maybe we could go out to dinner. or order some pizza? you need to eat, baby.” you know your mom is just looking out for you, but the thought of food makes you feel sick, eating at this point when your stomach truly needs it.

“yeah, maybe.” you pick your phone up off the nightstand and unplug it. “im gonna take a shower and get dressed.”

“that's good.” your mom says. “i love you, y/n.”

“love you too mama.” you pause for a beat when she doesn't shut your door. “thank you.”

you mom nods before exiting. you open up your phone to the gallery that causes you as much pain as it has joy, flicking through your final photos with rafe before sighing and getting up to shower with him fresh in your mind, determined to not forget a single thing about him.

--

you're about to go to sleep, pass out and hopefully not dream of anything. you went out for dinner like you promised your mom, trying to keep a brave face for her. she didn't even mention anything when you came back from an extended trip to the bathroom with tear stains on your cheeks and red eyes.

you grab your phone, swallowing harshly to stop yourself from crying again as you click on your messages, rafes contact still pinned to the top. 

you click on your messages. the last text was rafe saying he loved you. you never got to text him back, but you know he was aware of how much you loved him.

you scroll back for a bit, smiling at his jokes even with the tears in your eyes.

you lock your phone and place it on your chest, looking up at the glittering stars through your skylight. “i miss you so much, rafe. why'd you have to leave me?”

your phone vibrates. you almost ignore it, not caring who it could be from, you've practically ditched all your friends, hoping they won't hold it against you when you finally feel good enough to hang out again, if that time ever comes.

something in you makes you pause when you go to plug your phone in, makes you hesitate and open up the text.

baby, im so sorry. please meet me outside, im at your dock.

love, rafe

you frown at the text from the unknown number, considering ignoring the obvious prank as you fling off your covers, body now fueled with rafe, but when you look out the window, there is an unfamiliar boat tied to your dock.

you slip on your shoes, not really thinking of a plan as you head outside, rushing through the yard to find out whoever is playing tricks on you.

the moon barely lights your steps as you stomp down the wooden dock until you're close enough from the boat for them to hear you and far enough from your house to not wake up your mom.

“this isn't fucking funny!” you scream. “whoever is pranking me, you're fucked up!”

a figure steps out of the boat and onto your dock. it takes your eyes a second to adjust, to really take in what you're seeing, to know it's reality.

“n-no.” you take a staggering step back. “im-im seeing things.”

“it's really me, baby.” the word hits you like a bullet as you fall to your knees, not caring that they dig into the wood. “i can explain everything but-but can i touch you? ive missed you so goddamn much.”

“this isn't real. you're- you're dead. im dreaming.”

rafe moves closer, dropping to his knees as well and pulling you into a tight hug. it isn't until he touches you that you know that it's not a dream, hes real and warm against you.

“oh, god.” you begin to sob, clutching onto rafe, clambering closer to him, climbing onto his lap and hugging him so tightly it's like your bodies could become one.

“im so fucking sorry baby. i love you. i love you so much.”

“i love you.” you sob, pulling back to look rafe in the eye. “i-i love you and you can never leave me again.”

you'll demand answers later, but now you're just happy your initial gut instinct was right, your boyfriend is right here, alive and well.

“can i kiss you? you're probably pissed at me but-”

you don't wait for rafe to finishing, surging forward and smashing your lips against his, all the passion and feelings of the past two months without him, but also the past five years of love, put into your bodies as you kiss under the moonlight.

“baby-” rafe gasps after a minute. “i-i need to get back on the boat. just in case i’m seen. come with me.”

“okay.” you're not sure what it means, but you're not going to let rafe out of your sight.

rafe climbs onto the boat before helping you, hand carefully stroking over yours as he leads you into the cabin.

“did you tell anyone that i messaged you?” he asks, sitting down on the bed and pulling you to his side.

“no.” you shake your head. “my mom doesn't even know.”

“that's good.” rafe nods. “i faked my death.”

“i can tell.” you giggle, unable to keep away for much longer as you press your lips against his in a quick peck before curiosity has your tongue loosening. “how? why?”

“my dad planned it for me. the boat was rigged to explode and i went and suited up in scuba gear. the why…” rafe hesitates for a moment, and you can read every emotion on his face.

“just tell me.” you say. “you can't hurt me. you can't make me mad at you, not when i just got you back.”

“i killed sheriff peterkin.” rafe swallows harshly. “it was to protect my dad, but of course nobody would believe me.”

“i believe you.” you tell rafe, tucking your head into his neck. “that must have been so scary, but i know how you'd do anything to protect the people you love.”

“my dad didn't want me to tell you at all. i agreed to wait until after it happened, but it all moved so fast, and when i got to where i was supposed to hide out for a while, i realized i had no way of contacting you. i had to steal a phone and this boat and leave the safehouse.”

“what's the plan now then?” you ask.

“have you come back to the safehouse with me. it's in the caribbean, on a gorgeous island. i will provide everything you need, we won't have to hide there.”

“and what will i tell my family? tell everyone?”

“well, your mom loves me.” rafe smiles, knowing he's right. “i think we can trust her to keep the secret. as for everyone else… maybe you just need some time away from the outer banks after what happened. maybe some cousins in michigan or something?”

“whatever.” you shake your head. “i just need to be with you.”

-- one week later --

“when you said safe house…” you look around the mansion. “this is not what i was picturing.”

“the locals here think im a cousin of the cameron family. allows me to stay here without much suspicion. i do keep a low profile and stay out of touristy areas just in case, but we can do whatever you want here. the ocean is right outside our doorstep.”

“and money? do i need to get a job?” you've never worked before, having grown up wealthy, but you're willing to do anything to keep your life going with rafe, having told your mom who didn't believe you until rafe stepped into the room. she saw the spark in your eyes and recognized it as the same one in hers when she looked at your father, and her time was also cut short when he passed young.

she made you promise to call and to let her visit every couple months, just enough to not be suspicious.

“no.” rafe shakes his head. “my dad funnels me money. cash, so no one gets suspicious.”

“honestly, i could just stay forever in the house and in the backyard.” you laugh, wrapping your arms around rafes shoulders, pressing a kiss to his lips.

“my dad will figure something out eventually, i don't expect you to hide for the rest of your life.”

“okay.” you shrug. now that you're with rafe, you don't care. you're going to be happy no matter what after feeling the pain of losing him.

“there is one more room i want to show you…” rafe picks you up, your legs slotting around his waist like nothing ever happened. 

you laugh as you kiss his neck, knowing exactly where he's taking you.

sfw tags: @winterrrnight @bejeweledreverie @ladyinbl00d @ethanthequeefqueen @drewsephrry

[rafesfavgirl]

gurl i neeed a part 2 of stop asking me to stay, that broke me😭😭😭

you ask, i deliver :) hope you like it!!

i don't regret a thing — r. cameron

part 1.

❝ we're not the only ones,  i don't regret a thing every word i've said, you know i'll always mean ❞

pairing: ex-bf!rafe x fem!reader

context: you and rafe have been dating for seven months, and while the relationship started it out well, as soon as the honeymoon phase ended (about 3 months in), everything went to shit. you've been trying to put up with it, knowing the situation with ward, but tonight, you realize you've had enough.

words: 2.4k+

warnings: swearing, toxic relationship, mentions of drug use, mainly fluff, a little angst, might still make you cry. rafe being an absolute simp for you, basically.

rafe wakes up the next morning, faced-down on topper's living room couch with almost no recollection of what happened the night before. except one thing—you'd finally walked away from him.

"not enough to choose me. you give in every time." your words echo in his head, as he opens his eyes.

fuck. what did he do?

"good morning sunshine," kelce comes down the stairs and greets rafe, who looked as if he couldn't move from the couch. "you sleep well?"

"i slept like shit," rafe groans, finally sitting himself up. "what the hell happened last night?"

"you mean other than you getting coked out and royally screwing things over with y/n?" kelce sasses him. "not much bro."

rafe shoots him a glare. "i did not royally screw things over with y/n."

"are you sure about that?" kelce raises a brow at him. "cause i had to drive her home last night crying, bro."

rafe's ear perk up at kelce's confession of you crying over him. you wouldn't have. you were the one who broke up with him.

"she was crying?" rafe asks.

"do you seriously even have to ask?" kelce replies. "i can't even count on two hands how many times you've made her cry the last few months."

no, that couldn't be true. surely he hadn't made you cry that often.

"shut the fuck up kelce," rafe gets up from the couch in complete denial of how shitty he's treated you the last few months and makes his way over to the kitchen.

rafe opens the fridge and grabs a bottle of water, while kelce joins him in the kitchen.

"you know it's true," kelce says, leaning back against the counter and crossing his arms. "you just never see it, because she won't let you."

was he right?

"you know how y/n is, bro," kelce adds, as i take a sip of water. "she'll never let you know you're hurting her, because you fear nothing more than being the cause of her pain and losing her. but she's also not going to beg and cry for you to stay and fight for her."

i did know that. that's what i loved about her. she didn't necessarily play hard to get when i tried asking her out on a date after months of texting, but she didn't give in too easily either. she wanted me to prove i was serious about her before giving me a real chance. she knew her worth.

i recap the bottle i'm drinking from and set it down on the counter beside me, my eyes focused on kelce. "so what should i do?"

kelce holds his hands up. "if you don't know by now, i can't help you."

—

rafe wasn't an idiot. he knew what he had to do.

so, after going home and taking a shower to freshen up and get a change of clothes, he drove to the flower shop in town to get you a bouquet of lavender and baby's breath, then nothing bundt cakes to get your favorite treat—a white chocolate raspberry bundt cake—and finally, your house.

once he parked his truck in front of your house and got out, he went through his usual routine of rounding around to your backyard, where he moved the ladder the gardeners used towards your bedroom window.

he climbed up and knocked, balancing the flowers and bundt cake in one hand.

you were sitting in bed watching after we fell on your laptop with a box of tissues beside you and puffy, red eyes when you hear the knock on your window.

without even thinking about it, you already knew who it was. this was just what he did. and against your better judgment, you got up from your bed, and walked over to pull the curtains open and find rafe outside with a regretful look on his face, a bouquet of flowers and a small box of your favorite treat.

slowly, but surely, you unlock the window and pull it up.

"i'm sorry," he speaks before you can, and you scoff.

"you know, i'm getting real sick of hearing you say that," you reply, turning around to walk away and reposition yourself back on your bed, while he slips in through your window.

"i got you flowers," he offers you a small smile and holds both items out to you. "and your favorite bundt cake. white chocolate raspberry."

your eyes shift from the gifts in his hand to his piercing blue eyes. they were no longer dark like they were last night, but there was a sense of uncertainty in them. like he wasn't sure he could win you back.

"so what? am i suppose to just forgive you? just like that?" you retort.

he lets out a sigh, and takes a seat at the edge of your bed, placing both items down on your bed next to your box of tissues. he finally gets a good look at you—from the messy bun on your head, to the bags under your eyes from barely getting any sleep last night, to your red, puffy eyes—and realizes just how badly he's messed up this time.

"i should've just fucked all those other girls. at least they know how to have fun." he still couldn't believe he said those words to you last night.

"i don't deserve your forgiveness," he admits. "i know that. but i want it, y/n. and i'm willing to work for it."

while those words were music to your ears, you were apprehensive. he apologizes every time. and while things do change for a while, they're never permanent. and a week or two from now, you'd be back in this same situation again. was that really worth it?

"i know i don't deserve any more chances," he continues, his eyes only focused on yours. "but i promise… i promise just give me one more and you won't regret it."

your eyes shift between his. he looked a little… scared? was he really that afraid to lose you?

"i don't know, rafe," you say honestly, shifting a little. "you've hurt me so bad… i don't know if i can take you doing it one more time."

"i'm not going to," he immediately shakes his head and reaches out to take your hands in his, fiddling with your fingers and glancing down at them. "please, baby, please. just let me show you i'm the guy for you. that i can be the guy you need and want me to be."

"how?"

"you'll give me a chance?" he asks, his eyes lighting up at the idea of being given another chance to win you back. 

despite your brain screaming at you not to, your heart wins over and you nod. you couldn't help it. every part of you yearned for him. and if he was willing to show you that he really could be the guy you knew he was—the guy you fell in love with—then maybe it would be worth it.

"wear something nice," he says. "i'll come back to pick you up at seven."

—

at exactly seven on the dot, you hear rafe park his car in front of your house, and look out your bedroom window to see him dressed in skinny black slacks and a long sleeve, white button down carrying a bouquet of red roses as he walked towards your driveway and front door.

you can't help the small smile that forms on your face as you hurry to strap your heels on and look at yourself in the mirror one more time, before grabbing your purse off your vanity and heading down the stairs.

"where are you heading off to?" your mom asks when you pass by the living room, all dressed up.

"date with rafe," you reply, walking towards the front door.

your parents had never been rafe's biggest fan—they weren't exactly unaware of how often he's made you cry the last couple of months—but they also knew they couldn't stop you from dating whoever you wanted, so they never fought you on it, and you were grateful for that. it was comforting to know they'd support you no matter what happened.

taking a deep breath, you place your hand on the doorknob, and finally open the door when the bell rings.

rafe's eyes instantly widen at the sight of you, his eyes trailing down your body wrapped in a tight, short, satin red dress. "wow," he gasps. "you- you look…"

your cheeks redden at his loss of words. "you don't clean up too bad yourself, cameron."

he smiles at your use of his last name as a nickname, and holds the red roses in his hand out to you. "these are for you."

"you already got me flowers this morning, you know," you joke, taking the bouquet from him. your mom was gonna be pleased to know rafe was back to filling up all her flower vases.

"i know, but…" he trails off. "you deserve the best."

the blush on your cheeks deepen at his words. "give me a second," you turn to walk back towards the living room, and set the bouquet down on the coffee table in front of your parents. "don't wait up."

they don't even get a word in before you're walking away again to join rafe outside.

"shall we?" you ask, looking up at him through your lashes, as you closed the door behind you.

"just… one more thing," a sly smile comes across his lips, as he reaches into his back pocket to pull out a black blindfold.

you stare at it, your mouth agape. "you're kidding, right?"

he shrugs, "i want it to be a surprise."

you groan, but give in anyway. "fine. but if i trip in these heels because i can't see where i'm going, consider us broken up for good."

he laughs at the threat, even though a part of him was afraid you still wouldn't forgive him after tonight. "you know i won't let that happen. turn around."

you do as he says, and he ties the blindfold around your eyes, before taking your hand in his and leading you down the driveway towards his car parked up on the curb. he opens the door for you, and carefully helps you into the passenger seat, before closing the door and rounding the car to get in the driver's seat.

the second the engine comes on, your romantic taylor swift playlist plays through the car's speakers.

"you didn't," you say. he would always complain when you had aux because she was all you'd ever play.

"i guess she's not too bad," rafe shrugs, chuckling as you began singing along to the lyrics of wildest dreams.

rafe continued driving through the island for another ten or fifteen minutes, before he finally pulled the car to a stop in front of his family's beach house on the edge of figure eight, completely secluded from everything else.

he gets out of the car first, and helps you out, taking your hand in his to lead you through the house and out to the back porch.

"are you ready?" he leans in towards your ear, and goosebumps rise along your skin at his proximity.

you nod, and he reaches his hands up to the back of your head to untie the blindfold.

it takes a little while for your eyes to adjust, but once they do, a feeling of warmness fills your heart at the sight in front of you.

red rose petals were scattered in the sand of the private beach, along with fairy lights, a candlelit table for two set up in the center of it all, as acoustic instrumentals of taylor's best love songs played through the speaker situated on the porch.

"you like it?" he asked.

you turn your head to look at him. "rafe, i… it's perfect."

"that's what i was going for," he shrugs smugly, and nods his head towards the set up. "come on."

you both remove your shoes, before he takes your hand in his again and leads you down the back porch to the table in the middle of the beach.

"i can't believe you did this for me," you say, as he pulls a chair out for you to sit in.

"i'd do anything for you," he smiles, taking the seat across from you once you're seated.

—

after a three course dinner and a bottle of wine, which was all served to the both of you by a waiter that rafe hired from the country club, the night slowly came to an end, an endless amount of stars filling the night sky above you.

but while you were focused on the stars, rafe was focused on you.

"god, you're beautiful," he says, causing you to look at him now.

you chuckle, "shut up."

"no, i'm fucking serious," he replied, standing up from his seat.

you watched him carefully as he walked over to you, and held a hand out.

you glance at his hand and tilt your head up at him, "what are you doing?"

"dance with me," he says.

"you're asking me to dance?" you raise a brow at him.

"mhm," he nods. "you gonna say yes?"

"well how can i say no?" you reply, a small smile forming on your lips as you put your hand in his.

he leads you a few feet away from the table, and rests a firm hand on your waist, as you trail a hand up to his shoulder.

he locks his eyes with yours as you both begin swaying to taylor's timeless, and scans your face.

"what?"

he shakes his head, "i don't deserve you..."

"rafe…"

"but i'm gonna do everything i can to make sure i become the kind of guy who does," he cuts me off. "i want to be better, y/n. not only for you, but for myself too."

you smile, and pull him closer, your hand snaking to the back of his head.

"i'm sorry for being such an ass the last few months," he says, and you close my eyes, taking the moment in as he continues. "i know i haven't deserved all the chances you've given me, but i'm not gonna disappoint you again. i want to be the guy you think i am."

you pull away, just enough to have your eyes lock with his.

"you are that guy, rafe," you tell him, and you mean it. "you just need to let him show more."

he smiles, "you're pretty damn amazing, you know that?"

"so i've been told," you shrug jokingly.

he chuckles. "i love you, y/n."

"i love you too."

reblogs and comments are deeply appreciated <33

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[rezwrites]

So maybe it is too HORNY of me but hear me out… Pastor! Agatha Harkness x non believer reader where Agatha knows Reader doesn’t believe in heaven and she is going to show you to heaven... smut, dark smut (?)

Never too horny for Pastor!Agatha!!

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, legal age gap(reader is in her 20s) religious themes, sacrilegious language/situations, allusion to stalking, corporal punishment(spanking w/ a ruler), sadism/madochism, body worship, oral sex(r! receiving) overstimulation, orgasm denial

a/n: Here you go! I’m so sorry it took so long, I hope you enjoy!

Moving back with your parents after college wasn’t something you’d planned. Giving them the news hurt more than you admitted. It was a major blow to your pride, not to mention the anguish of leaving behind your freedom of living on your own.

Walking around your parents new home was strange; A whole new layout to memorize in a new area. They had moved out of the city and into a smaller community, a few months after you started college, it was hard to keep up with them. Grateful that they had packed up your things from the old house and set up your own room for you; that they had kept you mind. The small community town was nestled between rolling hills, its charming streets lined with quaint houses and colorful gardens.

Sitting down at dinner, you and your parents caught up on each others lives. Your father still has his job in the city, even though the commute is longer now. He recently had gotten promoted, which allowed your mother to leave her job and stay home.

“So, honey, what do you plan on wearing to church tomorrow?” Your mother questioned, her eyes brightened as she awaited an answer.

“Oh…” hesitating, you wrung your hands in your lap, “I actually wasn’t planning on going.”

“Of course you’re going. Don’t be silly. You can consider this another rule while you’re living here.” Your father hadn’t uttered a word, his way of telling you he agrees with your mother. Slumping in your chair you took another bite of your salad, knowing better than to argue with her about this. “Besides I already told the Pastor about you, that you’ve lost your way in life. She’ll help show you the path.”

You aren’t lost, so to speak. College drained you of your savings to where you couldn’t afford to live on your own after you graduated. You just needed a roof over your head until you saved enough, and found a job that put your degree to work.

Your parents were always devout but after moving they, your mother especially, became more religious. Every sparse phone call you’d have with them over the years your mother would find a way to squeeze God into the conversation. Each time you would tell her to stop but she’s stubborn believing she could convert you.

The small wooden church stood proudly amidst a lush green meadow, its weathered facade showing signs of age and history. The air was filled with the sweet scent of wildflowers, carried by a gentle breeze that rustled the leaves of nearby trees. The sound of birds singing and chirping provided a melodic backdrop, while the warm rays of the sun cast a soft golden glow on the church's worn wooden exterior. As you approached, the rough texture of the splintered wooden doorframe greeted your fingertips, evoking a sense of reverence.

The pastor stood at the altar, a welcoming smile on her face greeting everyone. The heavy, opulent, white and gold adorned chasuble covering almost all of her save her hands; cleric collar peaking out underneath. Sunlight seeped through the ceiling-tall stained glass window, casting an ethereal glow over her.

Your mother ushered you to the fourth row on the left. The hair on the back of your neck stood up feeling eyes on you. Sitting down you look around, a few dozen people filled the sanctuary but no one was looking at you. Your mother hands you a hymnal, asking that you at least follow along.

Listening to the sermon it’s hard not to roll your eyes, but you definitely pay attention to the pastor’s alluring voice. The way her voice commanded all attention on her. All eyes and ears of the congregation clung to each word she spoke, as if she was a prophet herself.

Lithe fingers dancing through the air as she talks, your mind can’t help but wonder to images of her hands on you. When the congregation kneels to pray, your brain conjures the most unholy ways to have Pastor Agatha’s hands on you, taking you apart and putting you back together.

With everyone heads bowed Agatha scanned the room as she spoke. Her azure eyes landing on you next to your parents, the lost little lamb. Your parents had to come to her a week prior pleading her to help set you back on the path of God. She’s happy to help any lost soul find the light, but the moment she saw you trailing in behind your parents something in her shifted.

The pianist plays choral music while each row takes their turn walking up to the altar for communion. Standing up your mother beckons you in front her as the usher approaches your row. Stepping up to the Pastor you felt pressure on your shoulders. The expectation from your mother behind you and the rest of the congregation waiting behind her. “The body of Christ,” the Pastor smiled reassuringly handing you a wafer, her fingertips grazing the back of your hands. She raises the chalice to your lips allowing you to take a sip, announcing, “The blood of Christ.”

The wafer tastes like sweet paper as it dissolves on your tongue mixing with the bitter wine. You did your best to hide the grimace on your face as you walked back to your seat. Continuing with the service time seemed to stretch on to infinity. Beginning to doze off, Agatha raised her hands from the pulpit announcing, “Go with God.”

Confusion on your face as the congregation monotonously, almost robotically repeated back, “As He with you.” Everyone stood up as you shook the daze of tiredness from your mind. Shuffling out the door, the pastor was awaiting everybody outside already.

Your mother placed a hand on the back of your shoulder guiding you in front of her introducing you, “Pastor Agatha, this is our daughter.”

“Ah, yes, I remember. I’m glad to see you’ve joined us today.” Shaking her hand, she covered yours, her hands soft and warm. The close proximity to her again had you speechless, her light floral perfume filling your nose, “Well, the confession box is open every day after daily mass, which ends at twelve. I’m also available should you need anything. Feel free to drop by anytime, dear.”

—

You spent the rest of the day in your room, trying to keep your mind off of Pastor Agatha. Uneasiness settled over you as the day grew on. Tossing and turning all night restless, tiredly blinking as you watched the moon set and the sun rise from your window. Hands flew to your stomach as it growled, craving junk food but your parents didn’t keep that in the house.

Stopping at the door you slipped your shoes on. Your mother lifted her head from her book, questioning, “Where are you heading?”

“Just going to the general store for some snacks. Would you like anything?” You offered, checking your pockets to make sure you have everything you need. “Dad left?”

“Yes, not too long ago. I’m making breakfast soon if you’d like to wait.” With a shake from your head your mother wished you well, returning to her book.

Stepping outside the warmth of the morning sun washed over you. The quick ten-minute walk to the middle of town was tranquil. The pleasant scent of freshly cut timber mingled with the sweet aroma of freshly baked bread, wafting out from the nearby bakery. The streets slowly begin buzzing with life as everyone bustles off to work or daily routines.

The general stores moderately weathered wooden deck creaked, slightly gave way underneath you. The windows were adorned with faded advertisements, flowing in the gentle breeze. Inside, the cashier was paying attention to whatever local news channel was on. Quitely, you walked through the neatly arranged shelves.

Browsing the chip aisle you couldn’t believe the assortment of flavors this small town had. Some flavors you wouldn’t even be able to find in the biggest markets in the city. Wasabi, braised Pork flavored, bbq lamb just to name a few.

“Quite the appetite, hm?” Clutching three bags on chips in your hands you spun on your heel to find Pastor Agatha standing behind you. Her black clerical shirt tucked into her jean pants. “Allow me to pay for this?”

“Oh, no Pastor. You don’t have to.” Refusing, you clutching the chips close to you.

“Please just call me Agatha, besides It’s just a few things. It’s no problem at all.” Unease pitted your stomach as she took the bags placing them in her basket. You felt like a lost puppy walking behind her around the store as she finished her own shopping.

You didn’t dare look at the total of everything, guilt eating at you for letting her pay for your stuff. Stepping out in front of the store she handed you your bags of chips, “Are you heading back home? You look exhausted, sweetie, be sure get adequate rest.”

“Yes, thank you, pastor. Have a good day.” You didn’t know what it was, but the air around her was becoming suffocating.

Agatha stood watching you scurry away. As you turned the corner behind the bakery she started back towards the church. Placing the bags down by the first row, she kneeled at the altar, the floor creaking beneath her. She prayed for forgiveness for breaking the Tenth Commandment- Thou shalt not covet.

Oh heavens above did she covet, her hand between her slick thighs all night long. Aberrant thoughts of you ran rampant through her mind, your angelic voice tempting her will like a siren out at sea. Lust and Greed sunk their claws deep into her the second her eyes landed you from her spot at the altar. On her knees she begged God to deliver you to her; praying for your attention, affection, your entire being in that instant, she craved you- her lost little lamb.

-

“I think you should go to confession. It’s been a few days since church.” your mother stood at the doorway of your bedroom.

You lifted your head from your book, “But I haven’t done anything to warrant-”

“Just go.” You notice your mother’s hand grasp the door knob. Again, no room for discussion, “Maybe you can talk to the Pastor about the recent sleepless nights you’ve been having.” Huffing you got up, stomping out of the house. You’re a grown-up, you don’t have to do this. You could go sit at the park a few blocks away and say that you went, however your feet kept carrying you the opposite way towards the church.

Walking in the sanctuary, you noticed it was the end of daily mass. Moving off to the side letting people file out of the door, just leaving you and the pastor. Agatha smiled, motioning you over, “Confession, I presume?”

You nodded, subconsciously picking at your fingernails. “Come child. The confessional is in my office.”

“In your office? Why not out in the sanctuary?”eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Confessions are personal. It’s about what’s said between you and the lord.” She led you to the back of the church where her office is. The large grandfather clock along the back wall briefly caught your attention, ticking with each pendulum swing.

“But nobody is here.” You gestured back to the bare pews and the silent sanctuary.

Closing the door she smiles at you pointing to the confessional against the far left wall, “Like I said. Personal.”

Slowly striding to the confessional you took a deep breath. Closing the curtain behind you, you kneeled at the partition, steadying yourself. “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. I have never had a confession.”

“What is your sin, dear child.” Agatha spoke from the other side of the partition. You could see her sitting through the lattice opening.

“I’m not sure. My mother always says it’s because I’m a nonbeliever.” Wiping your hands on your thighs, attempting to quell the rising anxiousness.

“Your mother. But what about you?” Her tone sharp.

“…impure thoughts. For another woman.” A blatant lie. The way you love has never been sinful, your never see it as such.

“Thoughts like?” You can hear the curiosity in Agatha’s voice.

“Her hands on me, wrapping around me; fingers curling inside me. Her marking my neck.” Trying your best to stare at her through the small openings, gauging her reaction.

Lord above give me strength, Agatha thinks, her body tensing. Simultaneously, another part of her is praying you’re talking about her. Nothing but pure elation rushed through her when she saw you step in the door after mass. She can feel your eyes lingering on her, her restraint fading.

Agatha was silent for a moment before she spoke up again, “And you think that’s sinful?”

“No. If we are supposedly each made of Gods image, then why would it be wrong?” you began to challenge.

“Three Hail Marys and…”

You scoffed, “Is there a non prayer alternative?”

Another beat of silence before you heard her door open. She stepped out of the confessional, opening your door. Grabbing your elbow Agatha dragged you to the chalkboard across the room.

“You know, back in the old days Catholic nuns would use corporal punishment. Since you refuse a prayer penance, you will receive a physical one. After all, suffering is next to godliness.” She yanked the bottom half of your dress up, tying it up with a hair-tie, sliding your panties down your legs. “There is no modesty before our Lord.”

Although you wanted to be naked in front of her, you never expected it to be like this. Though you cannot deny the arousal beginning to pool in your core.

The noise of chalk on the board grates against your eardrums. Top of the board right in the center it read: Doleo pro peccatis meis

“What does that mean?” You asked looking back to find Agatha pulling a wooden ruler out from her desk.

“I repent my sins.” She cracked the ruler against her palm, walking back over to you, “One hundred lines written perfectly in cursive Latin, each mistake gets you a lash, little girl.” Her harsh, condescending tone sent another jolt to your core. You did your best to withstand the jarring noise of the chalk as it traveled across the board.

Collapsing to your knees after finishing the line, your ass on fire, legs unwilling to hold you up any longer. Fifty one lines, twenty three lashes- you purposely started making mistakes after the thirteenth line. The stickiness between your legs grew with each hit on your backside, soaking your underwear.

Heavy footsteps approached from behind, Agatha’s shadow looming over you. Casting your gaze up, Agatha had her hands on her hips, shaking her head, “How disappointing you couldn’t finish, but I must admit you lasted longer than I expected.”

Her hands snaked through your hair, craning your head back against her thighs, wiping your tears away with such carefulness. Wincing as your heels of your shoes pushed into your welting ass.

“Does it hurt?”

“Yes,” you whispered. She let out a hum small, a smirk appearing on her face. “May I confess, pastor?”

“Of course, my child.” Her smirk twisted into a smile.

Boldness has never been your forte, but something about this woman makes you want to cast all caution to wind. She cradles your face, keeping your eyes locked with hers as she awaits your confession. Yours eyes burned with desire, “It feels good.”

“Didn’t know the little lamb was a pain slut.” The tips of her nails started to curl under your jaw, “Do I need to beat the sin out of that cunt of yours?”

Your voice dropped turning serious, eager to see how far you could push her, “I’d rather you fuck it out of me, Pastor.”

Agatha’s face dropped as she yanked you to your feet, pushing you against her desk. Caging you in, Agatha’s eyes darkened with lust, her voice low, “You are a snake in the desert.”

Hooking your finger under her clergy collar, you pulled her closer, “Does that mean you can’t resist the temptation?”

She leaned closer to your body, legs locking around her hips keeping her close. “When it’s a heavenly angel like you? Cast me to hottest fire.” She surged forward clashing her lips with yours, rough and uncalculated. Groping your tits through your dress, she pushed you down your back hitting her desk.

Excruciatingly slow and methodical Agatha dragged her lips away from yours, making thier way down to the tips of your shoulders. Appreciative moans left your lips as Agatha trailed along your clavicle, dipping to back your neck. Her deft fingers peeled your dress off your shoulders, her lips gracing the top of your boobs. She mumbled something inaudibly, pressing her face in your breasts. Pulling on her hair you lifted her head from your chest, teasingly asking her to repeat herself. Lust evident in her blown out pupils, “I said, ‘quite the angel.’”

Suddenly dropping to her knees Agatha untangled your panties from your ankles, slipping them into her pocket. Throwing your thighs over her shoulders she kissed your inner thighs, inching closer to your dripping core. Propping yourself on your elbows you watched as Agatha stared intensely at you before diving into your pussy. She lapped carefully through your folds, figuring out what spots make you squirm the most. Arching your back when her lips wrapped around your clit, hands gripping the edge of the desk. Hips canting into her mouth as she pulled you closer, giving a hard suck. She pulled away much to your displeasure, softly kissing your inner thighs, her hands reaching up to rub over stomach.

Agatha wanted nothing more to devour you until you were begging her for release but she reigned herself in, worshipping you like the angel God bestowed upon her. Languidly pressing kisses she traced back to your cunt, tonguing her way through your folds again. Your soft moans were like heaven’s chorus to her ears. Thighs tightened around her ears when she moaned, ego jumping with every praise that fell from your lips.

She stayed on your clit as you quivered beneath her. Sharp sucks melting to easy kisses as she worked you through your orgasm. She broke away allowing you a reprieve. A part of her wished you’d asked for permission but she didn’t dwell too much on it; she has plenty of time to correct your misbehavior.

Agatha attacked your sensitive nub again, using her fingers to tease your slit. It was too much but you couldn’t get enough. Jerking your hips, you pleaded for more. Wrapping your hands in her hair you pulled her closer, the edge approaching quickly. The white light of pleasure behind your eyelids came into view again, warmth flitting across your body. Heaven on earth must be this right here: having Pastor Agatha between your legs, devoting herself to bring you to ecstasy. Eyes screwing shut, you whined with tears brimming your eyes, “gods right there.”

Agatha hastily pulled away, all the sensations ceasing, leaving you high and dry. Chest heaving as you shot up, casting a glare at her.

“Did you think it’d be so easy?” Agatha laughed out, thumbing a tear off your cheek. “God doesn’t reward the undeserving.” You pulled away, hopping down off the desk.

“my underwear?” You tried to look around for them but Agatha kept a firm hand on your hip. She chuckled fixing your dress, smoothing it out.

You turned to her stoned-faced, “I’m not kidding.”

Her laughs died before she put on a stern face of her own. “Lose the attitude.” She lightly swatted you on the butt, hard enough to get her point across, “Maybe if you’re good enough you can have them back tomorrow, after you confess again.”

She walked you out to the church door, hand firmly on your hip the whole way. Seeing you off she considered letting you come again tomorrow, if you actually sleep tonight.

[kaiyunsim]

Adding weight —

pairing : idol!anton x male!reader x idol!eunseok

summary : after your adventures with anton in the gym before, his gymbro friend decides to tag along after taking a break from the gym. you all start to get along and maybe even too close for comfort?

warnings : SMUT!! (dni minors), unprotected sex, orgasm denial, threesome, drunk anton, eunseok being freaky, erm probably more idk tho,

a/n : i hope u guys enjoy cuz this is def not my best work. def taking a break from smut because i am not good at writing it. so, sorry if its not as good as the first part !

part 1 — part 2

— not proof read — (w/c : 3.1k) — minors dni —

anton didn’t usually share his workouts with anyone other than you lately. since their first steamy encounter, his sessions had taken on a new layer of excitement, catching your shy glances, enjoying the subtle touches as he spotted him, and the unspoken tension that hung between them. anton hadn’t defined what they were yet, and neither had you, but that uncertainty made it all the more exhilarating.

then there was eunseok, his best friend since high school, and his occasional training partner whenever he was in town and not busy. eunseok had a competitive spirit and a knack for pulling anton out of his comfort zone. they shared a deep trust, one that went back years and had been built on countless shared experiencesl.

one evening, eunseok showed up at anton’s apartment with a six-pack of beer and his usual bluntness. “so, who’s this gym crush you’ve been hiding?” he asks, flopping onto anton’s couch.

“why do you always jump to conclusions?” anton replies, a grin betraying him. but as they talk, he ended up admitting more than he planned about you. eunseok raises an eyebrow, intrigued by this side of anton he hadn’t seen before. as the night went on, eunseok couldn’t resist teasing him, but anton brushed it off. at least, he tried to.

later that night, when eunseok made it home, he had messaged anton the night before.

eunseok: yo, you hitting the gym tomorrow?

anton: yeah, 4am. before practice.

eunseok: cool. been too long. i’ll join. let’s see if you’ve gotten any better since last time.

anton smiles at the message. eunseok was competitive by default but also a good friend, always pushing anton to train harder. what anton hadn’t accounted for was what would happen if eunseok and you crossed paths.

the next morning, anton walks into the gym with eunseok. the two had always made an odd pair. where anton was reserved and quietly confident, eunseok was loud, playful, and loves being the center of attention. the session was just another in their regular routine, until they spot sam by the squat rack. you looked a little out of place, but you weren’t quite expecting to see anton with someone else.

as they approach the free weights section, anton’s pulse quickens when he spots you at the squat rack. dressed in his usual fitted shirt and sweatpants, you were mid-rep, your face focused, a light sheen of sweat glistening on your brow. you didn’t see them right away, which gave anton a moment to mentally prepare.

“hey, is that him?” eunseok asks, elbowing anton with a knowing smirk.

anton shot him a warning look. “don’t start.”

“i’m not starting anything,” eunseok says, holding up his hands in mock innocence. “just making observations. he’s cute.”

before anton could respond, you just finished your set and looked up, your face lighting up when you saw anton. your smile faltered slightly when you noticed eunseok, who was now watching you with an intrigued expression.

“morning,” anton greets, walking over. “y/n, this is eunseok, my training partner sometimes.”

you give a small smile and nods. “nice to meet you.”

“likewise,” eunseok replies, extending a hand. his grip is firm, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary. “so, you’re the guy who’s been keeping anton so busy these days?”

you chuckle nervously, glancing at anton, who looks mildly exasperated. “uh, i guess?”

“don’t mind him,” anton says quickly, brushing off eunseok’s teasing. “let’s just get started.”

eunseok was pretty experienced in his gym work. he would watch and correct anton and you whenever you were doing something wrong. he was even able to lift some heavier weights that you though were too scary to even try. eventually, you all have a break, sitting in silence as you try and regain any energy you have left.

“you know, y/n, you should come with us to grab a drink sometime,” eunseok says suddenly, breaking the silence. “i’ve got a feeling anton hasn’t introduced you to the real him yet.” his words were teasing, but there was a hint of challenge there. anton nudges eunseok to stop.

you blink, looking between them. “i’d like that,” you say, your voice soft but genuine.

after eunseok convinced you to join him and anton for a drink. anton was reluctant at first, knowing how unpredictable things could get when he and eunseok drank together. but you seemed eager, and something about the idea of the three of them hanging out outside of the gym sounded… exciting.

they met at a quiet, dimly lit bar that eunseok had picked. he know the bartender, and by the second round, they had their own booth in the corner, tucked away from the crowd.

they began drinking and as the drinks flowed, the usual gym banter turned into more personal stories, funny childhood memories, embarrassing confessions, and stories of wild nights they barely remember. anton nurses his whiskey while you stuck to beer, but eunseok kept a steady pace, ordering rounds and toasting to everything from “surviving leg day” to “making new friends.”

halfway through the evening, anton starts loosening up, his usual reserved demeanor softened by the alcohol. he laughs more openly, his arm slung across the back of the booth, occasionally bumping into you as they talk. you, who had been watching anton with quiet fascination, found yourself leaning closer, drawn to anton’s warmth and the easy way he smiled when he was with eunseok.

“anton’s always been like this,” eunseok says, nudging you with a grin. “all stoic and serious, but get a few drinks in him and he’s a total softie.”

anton rolls his eyes but didn’t pull away. “i’m not a softie,” he mutters, but his voice was relaxed, and there is a faint smile tugging at his lips.

eunseok smirks, leaning back and stretching his arms behind his head. “sure, whatever you say, man. but don’t think i haven’t noticed the way you’ve been acting around y/n here.”

anton blinks, glancing at you, whose cheeks were already flushed. “what do you mean?” he asks, his tone playful but slightly defensive.

“oh, come on,” eunseok groans, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “you’re always watching him. spotting him. and now here we are, all cozy in a booth after hours?”

by the third round, anton was visibly tipsy. He isn’t sloppy, anton is the kind of drunk that made him affectionate and a bit too honest. his cheeks were flushed, his laughter more frequent, and his filter had all but disappeared.

you sip your beer, watching anton with amusement as he leans against the table, gesturing animatedly while recounting a story about a disastrous hiking trip eunseok had dragged him on years ago.

“—and this guy,” anton says, pointing a slightly wobbly finger at eunseok, “thought it would be fun to take a shortcut through a swamp. a swamp, y/n!” he leans closer to you, his face is a picture of exaggerated disbelief. “we were ankle-deep in mud for an hour.”

you chuckle, your eyes crinkling. “sounds like you’ve had a lot of adventures together.”

“too many,” anton replies, grinning as he tilts his glass for another sip. “but that’s eunseok for you. always... always pushing boundaries.” His voice softened on the last part, his gaze briefly flicking to eunseok, who raises his glass with a smug grin.

eunseok leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand as he looked at you. “and what about you? what’s the most adventurous thing you’ve done, y/n?”

eunseok raises an eyebrow, his lips curving into a teasing smile. “i don’t believe that for a second. you’ve been hitting the gym, pushing yourself. you’re definitely braver than you give yourself credit for.”

you felt your cheeks warm under eunseok’s gaze. there was something about the way eunseok spoke, direct, but with a subtle challenge. that made you feel both nervous and intrigued.

“y/n's braver than he thinks,” anton interjects, his voice slightly slurred but earnest. he rests his arm across the back of the booth, his hand brushing against your shoulder. “i mean, he’s doing great at the gym. strong. determined. and… and you’re just, like… really cool, you know?” he gives you a lopsided grin, his eyes sparkling with the kind of sincerity only drunkenness could amplify.

you laugh, ducking your head. “thanks, anton. you’re not so bad yourself.”

eunseok chuckles, leaning back and crossing his arms. “you’re such a softie when you drink, anton. it’s adorable.”

Anton shoots him a mock glare. “i’m not a softie. i’m just… honest. and you!” he points at eunseok, his tone turning playful. “you’re always trying to steal the spotlight. don’t think I don’t notice.”

eunseok raises his hands innocently. “hey, i’m just here to make sure y/n feels welcome. you’ve been hogging him all to yourself at the gym.”

anton frowns, looking between you and eunseok as if just realizing something. “you do spend a lot of time talking to him lately,” he mumbles, his words slightly slurred.

eunseok smirks, leaning toward you. “can you blame me? y/n’s good company.” His voice drops slightly, a flirtatious edge creeping in. “and he’s got this quiet confidence about him. i like that.”

your eyes widen slightly, unsure how to respond. anton, however, isn’t having it. he sits up straighter, his expression somewhere between amused and indignant. “hey, hey, hey. don’t go making him uncomfortable.”

eunseok chuckles. “relax, anton. i’m just being friendly.”

anton narrows his eyes at him, then turns to you, his tone softening. “you’re not uncomfortable, are you? because i’ll kick his ass if you are.”

you laugh nervously, shaking his head. “no, i’m fine. really.”

“see?” eunseok says, clinking his glass against yours. “we’re good.”

but anton isn’t satisfied. he leans closer to you, his hand finding its way to your knee under the table. “just so you know,” he playfully warns, his voice quieter but no less slurred, “you don’t have to put up with eunseok’s crap. i got your back.”

you smile, your heart skipping a beat at the warmth in anton’s gaze. “thanks, anton. i appreciate that.” you reply playfully back, knowing it’s his drunkenness speaking.

eunseok watches the exchange with a knowing smirk, his eyes glinting with amusement. and maybe something else… “wow, anton. protective much?”

anton waves a hand dismissively, nearly knocking over his glass. “whatever. you’re just jealous because y/n likes me better.”

eunseok laughs, leaning in close enough that his shoulder brushed against yours. “oh, i don’t know about that. y/n, what do you think? who’s your favorite training partner?”

you blink, suddenly caught between anton’s earnestness and eunseok’s playful challenge. “uh…”

anton groans, dropping his head onto your shoulder dramatically. “don’t answer that. he’s trying to start something.”

eunseok grins. “am i? or am i just making things… interesting?”

you laugh, the tension easing slightly as he looked between the two of them. you couldn’t deny that there was something electric about being caught in the middle of their dynamic, anton’s warmth and sincerity on one side, and eunseok’s teasing confidence on the other.

eunseok moves close to you, pushing the boundaries as he places a hand your thigh softly, “you’re looking really good tonight.” anton, being the jealous drunk he is, quickly places his hand around your shoulder and gives you a jealous glare. he even goes in to kiss you and his lips land peacefully into yours, more aggressively than usual. he’s more possessive like this.

eunseok finds the situation funny, anton being so jealous. after you guys kiss, eunseok don’t even give you a chance to take a breath as your lips quickly land into his. your taken by surprise and as you pull back you look at him wide eyed, not in a bad way.

hits hands find their way to your waist, tugging you closer. anton also wants some of you so he takes your chin and pulls it towards him, capturing your mouth with his.

eunseok, being the teasing, boundary pushing man he is, tugs your shirt up, revealing your lean stomach to the two.

“eunseok, we’re in public…” you say with worry.

“i told you i know the guy who runs this place. trust me. i got us a good spot.” eunseok smirks, by a good spot eunseok asked the owner if he could get the booth in the corner cause he knows no one would check on them.

with that, he spins you around and repositions you so your on your back while on the table with your head towards anton and you behind to eunseok.

— smut ahead !! —

eunseok grazes his hands over your buldge, which he noticed was growing. “aww looks like someone wanted some attention”

you reply with nothing but a gulp, both scared and excited for what’s to come.

before you noticed, the intoxicated anton already unblucked and unzipped his pants, leaving his buldge in his underwear in front of your face. you decide to help relieve him and pull them down to reveal that same cock that hit you up last time.

“i forgot how horny anton gets when he’s drunk. we don’t take him to parties anymore…” eunseok chuckles

“shut the fuck up” anton replies, clearly embarassed but also doesn’t care because of all the liquor in his system. he pressed the hard shaft on your lips. you know what to do next so you spread your lips open to take it in.

you start to choke as anton pushes all of it in every thrust, enjoying the warmth that comes from your mouth.

eunseok sees what is taking place in front of him and want’s some attention too. he undoes your pants and you’re distracted with anton and pulls both your pants and underwear down at the same time, your cock popping up. he jerks it at a fast pace while undoing his own pants.

you squirm at the dual sensation from both anton and eunseok. you didnmt know who to focus on but it didn’t matter because you were getting equal attention from both. “god, you’re so responsive aren’t you?” eunseok teases. “i like that”

sooner or later, his clothes find their way off of him, you aren’t able to see how big his cock is but you can definitely feel it as he thrusts roughly, hitting your prostate almost immediately.

the sudden and tight intrusion in your entrance makes you cough around anton’s cock as well. as if the dual sensation before was too much, you feel overstimulated as the two men work on both of your holes. your moans would only be muffled from the girth of anton’s cock in your mouth, taking up the space in it.

anton begins to whimper and softly moan at how good his cock feels in your mouth, it was immacutlate. his cock felt good and your ears were blessed with drunk anton noises.

eunseok never backed down, if anything, he picked up the pace, running his cock deep into your hole. his hands move to your back, pushing you back to make it arch, only making his dick push harder and harder. “like my cock in you? you’re taking it so well”

you can’t even process what eunseok said, you just respond with muffled moans and whimpers.

“fuck, keep making those noises and i’m gonna cum, y/n…” anton blurts out. to no surprise, you keep making the noises, the stimulation was too much that made your brain empty other than the two hot men pumping their dicks into you.

with you not stopping, anton feels his climax building ip and eventually releases his sees into your mouth. you swallow in reaction.

anton pulls out of your mouth allowing you to gasp for air. with eunseok still thrusting into you, your gasps for air was also combined with moans that would’ve been heard if eunseok didn’t put you in a secret booth.

“taking my cock so nicely.” eunseok teasingly comments, “want me to cum?”

you can only nod, wanting to feel his seed in you. and sooner or later eunseok’s pade reaches an ultime high, comebined with the noises you make which turns into cries, not of sadness, but pleasure. eunseok hits you with one final thrust which is accompanied by his cum filling you up. nicely and warm in your hole as you lay there without much energy left.

“fuck,” he groans, “your turn to cum now,” he says with a smirk, wanting you to cum as he and anton already did.

he grasps your cock like he did before, and strokes it with a fast pace. anton, wanting to get in on the action, takes your faces and kisses your lips, absolutely feeling your lips out.

eunseoks pace brings you close, squirming and moaning in anton’s mouth. seeing you react so easily to his hands on you. he knows your reaching your climax, with all you were enduring earlier, but decides to twist it up a little bit

he lets go of your cock, ending all stimulation around it. you pull back from anton’s lips, letting out a little whimper in the process. “w-why eunseok..?” you ask him, grabbing his arm, trying to get him to resume his actions.

he just gives you a smirk, chuckling darkly not long after. “beg for it then.”

“what?”

“you heard me. beg” eunseok repeats.

you remained stunned, this sudden turn from eunseok. it wasn’t too surprising though, as he liked to push boundaries as usual. you were too desperate to have your release that you would do whatever to let it happen.

“p-please eunseok…”

“please what?”

“please let me cum”

with that he grasps onto your shaft resuming the quick pace he was at before. anton’s hands going all over your body before peacefully landing on your nipples to help play with them.

with the sensations coming back to you, you feel your climax building up. white spurts come out, landing on eunseoks hand. your body twitches with each wave that comes out and the feeling of dopamine is something that you never felt before.

you feel like you’re going to pass out from it but anton picks you up and puts you back down on the seat.

“that was something” eunseok says, back to his normal teasing self.

“y-yeah” you respond, still recovering.

“you took it too far seok” anton complains.

“yeah right, y/n was totally into it”

“was not”

“was to”

this banter carried on, you smiled, thinking how cute it is.

“wait…” eunseok blurts out, suddenly remembering something, “anton, we fucking have practice tomorrow don’t we?”

anton has a small pause before answering, “shit, yeah we do”

eunseok finds his phone ringing on silent, it was likely on for a while as it was warm. it was from shotaro, probably looking for him. “taro is looking for us”

“fuck he’s going to be mad, isn’t he…”

[hbyrde36]

Love, Lies, Bleeding

Steddie | R: Mature/Teen | One-shot | WC: 2122 | AO3

When Vecna was defeated and the Upside Down was dead and gone as if it had never existed, and all their various wounds were well on their way to healing, the in-the-know citizens of Hawkins who’d fought for its future set to the task of learning to live a normal life again. A life unburdened by savage monsters and the dark force that had toiled beneath their feet for so many awful years.

It was less of a surprise and more of a surrender to the inevitable when, in the midst of all that living, Steve and Eddie finally fell into bed together.

It happened on a night like many others, after the pair had spent a full day running the kids all over town, to the movies, the arcade, the diner, with Steve still playing chauffeur to a group of teenagers who were a few years away from getting licenses of their own. 

And jobs. 

And money.

He didn’t really mind, if he was honest, and he minded even less now that Eddie often tagged along too. The dark haired boy had a way of making any situation fun, no matter how dull and mundane.

After dropping off the last rugrat, they stopped to pick up a six-pack, and on Eddie’s suggestion drove out to the old quarry to enjoy a few beers under the stars, and some time together away from the watchful eyes of the party.

It wasn’t the first time Steve had felt the pull of Eddie’s unique charm, or noticed the way his eyes shined bright under the full moon, or the way his plush pink lips looked so inviting as they wrapped around the tip of his beer bottle, but it was the first time that he felt brave enough to do something about it. To lean in and take those lips with his own, to lick into Eddie’s mouth and taste the cheap beer on his tongue. 

It was divine.

They didn’t actually make it to a bed that first time, both of them too pent up from weeks of denials and pining, leading to quick and dirty shared handjobs in the backseat of Steve’s BMW.

Eddie assured Steve that it was fine, better than fine, that it fulfilled a long held teenage fantasy that he’d never in a million years thought would come true.

They made it to Steve’s bed the second time though, later that same night, and the third and the fourth times, and within a week they were officially a sickeningly sweet couple who couldn’t keep their hands off each other and spent every spare second together.

The first time Steve saw it happen, was by pure chance.

After Eddie had sucked his soul out through his dick yet again, and he’d happily and eagerly returned the favor, they’d both dropped off into a deep, contented sleep.

Or so Steve thought.

He’d jerked awake not long after passing out with a charley horse in his calf, clamping his mouth shut against the yelp of pain that was desperate to escape. There was no need for Eddie to lose sleep too over a stupid cramp. 

Except Eddie was in no danger of being woken up, because he was nowhere to be found. His still-warm side of the bed was empty and the bathroom door stood wide open revealing it to be vacant as well. If not for the soft footsteps on the roof just outside his window Steve might have thought Eddie was downstairs getting a drink of water, but one peek through the curtain confirmed his fears.

With a pit in his stomach Steve climbed back into bed, and stared at that window into the wee hours. 

He never did find out how Eddie got back inside in the morning without alerting him. Despite his confusion and heartache at seeing his boyfriend slink away under the cover of darkness, Steve had eventually fallen back asleep, too exhausted from speculating and crying to stay awake. All he knew was that when the sunrise greeted him through the open curtains, the warmth on his face was mirrored by the warmth on his back, where Eddie was pressed up against him, holding him close like he always did, as though everything before had been nothing more than a bad dream.

The next night, and every night after, Steve would pretend to be asleep, listening and watching in secret as Eddie slipped from the bed and tiptoed over to the window, opening it as carefully and quietly as he could before crawling out onto the flat part of the roof, jumping down to the concrete below.

For weeks Steve said nothing. He didn’t know what to think, or how to confront Eddie without running the risk of ruining what they had with any kind of accusation. 

Apart from Eddie’s nightly escapades, and the fact that Steve was starting to suffer from some serious sleep deprivation, things were good—great even. Steve had never felt so seen and supported by a romantic partner before, and the sex was hands-down the best he’d ever had.

They were happy.

So happy, that if Steve were a heavier sleeper, if he didn’t know what he knew, he’d think he was in love, and that Eddie was too.

He didn’t want to believe Eddie was cheating on him, but there were limited reasons he could come up with as to why a guy would sneak out of his boyfriend’s bed in the middle of the night without wanting said boyfriend to know. 

And the longer it went on, the harder it became to pretend nothing was wrong.

“Where do you go at night?” The fateful question, which had to come eventually, fell unbidden from Steve's lips one morning the moment he opened his eyes, before he could so much as think about talking himself out of it.

Eddie was out of bed and halfway to the bathroom, his bare back to Steve. At the words, he froze, body stiffening, but he didn’t turn around.

“I know, Eddie. I’ve seen you,” Steve went on in a whisper, when Eddie continued to be silent and unmoving. “I’ve known for a while now. I must have watched you crawl out my window a dozen times or more and it’s—” his voice cracked as he choked back a sob. “It’s breaking my fucking heart.”

Eddie bowed his head, his shoulders dropping heavily in defeat, but still he refused to turn and look Steve in the eye. 

“I don’t understand. Is there someone else?” Steve asked, finally giving voice to his greatest fear.

That at least seemed to finally snap Eddie out of it. He whirled, turning horror-filled eyes to Steve that glistened with unshed tears. Rushing back over to the bed, he threw himself down on his knees in front of it, where Steve sat half-hidden beneath the covers.

“I would never. Sweetheart, you mean everything to me. I swear to you, that’s not—” Eddie trailed off with a shake of his head, his voice lowering to an almost imperceptible whisper when he spoke again. 

“It’s so much worse.”

Steve begged to differ. 

He could feel the sincerity in Eddie’s words and his body instantly sagged in relief at the confirmation that his boyfriend, the person he already thought of as the love of his life, wasn’t about to shatter his heart. In his mind, nothing could be worse than Eddie cheating on him.

“Eddie, whatever it is, I can handle it. It can’t be any worse than what I was imagining.” Steve reached down to pull Eddie up onto the bed with him, coaxing him into his lap.

“You say that now, but you don’t know!” Eddie wailed, hiding his face in Steve’s chest as his body shook. “What I’ve done—what I am? You’ll hate me. I hate me.”

Steve wrapped his arms tightly around Eddie as he broke down, rocking him back and forth and kissing his hair over and over again until he calmed.

“Oh, baby,” Steve cooed softly. “It’s alright. Whatever’s wrong, we'll deal with it together.”

“Don’t call me that. I’m a monster,” Eddie said through a sniffle.

“You’re not—”

“No, Steve, you don’t get it. I’m…” Eddie sat up abruptly, wiping his face hard with his hands. “Well, I don’t know what I am exactly.”

Steve’s brows drew together in confusion. “What are you saying?”

“I think… I think I’m a vampire. Or at least vampire adjacent?”

Steve cackled, unable to hold it in.

“It’s not funny!”

“Sorry, sorry,” Steve said, quieting himself, and reached out to cup Eddie’s cheek. “Really though, what’s going on? Are you sleepwalking? Do I need to start tying you down to the bed at night?”

Eddie stared off into space for a moment as though the idea had possibilities, but he quickly shook it off.

“I’m serious, Steve. The bats, I think they changed me.”

“That can’t be right,” Steve argued. “I got bit too, remember?”

“How could I forget?” Eddie smirked. 

Warmth bloomed in Steve’s belly, but there would be time to deal with that later, for now he had to keep them both on track. “Eddie, focus.”

“Right,” Eddie sighed. “I’ve thought about that too and I think—don’t freak out—but I think the difference is, you survived their attack.”

Steve wasn’t following. “But… So did you?”

“Did I though?” Eddie asked gently, reaching up to cover Steve’s hand with his own, where it was still holding his face. “Dustin couldn’t find a pulse. Even you said I wasn’t breathing when you found us.”

“I said I thought you weren't breathing, but I'm not a doctor. Obviously I was wrong.” Steve bit at his bottom lip. “Baby, please tell me I was wrong.”

“It wasn’t obvious at first. My heart beats, I’m still warm, I still eat food and all. I didn’t even realize anything was wrong until a few weeks after everything went down. I was so tired all the time and there was this… thirst, that I couldn’t seem to quench. Then one day Wayne had a couple steaks thawing on the counter, just sitting there in a pool of red juices and I couldn’t look away from it. My mouth started to water and somehow I knew that was what I'd been craving, what I needed. The raw steak milkshake didn’t tide me over for long. I needed something fresher, warmer.”

“Why didn’t you come to me?” Steve blurted out, finding the whole idea was anything but a turn off. “You know I would have—”

“I know,” Eddie breathed, another small smile briefly playing on his lips. “Believe me, I thought about it, but we weren’t together yet, and you have no idea how grateful I am that I didn’t come to you for help.”

“Why?” Steve was almost afraid to ask, but he had to know.

Eddie looked down, letting his own hand drop and throwing off Steve’s touch. “I didn’t know. I swear to you Steve, I didn’t know.”

Steve wanted to scream but he kept his voice even and calm. “Didn’t know what?” 

“I didn’t know that when I bit down on that poor homeless man’s neck I wouldn’t be able to stop!” Eddie shouted, raising his head to reveal fresh tears streaming in rivulets down his pale face. “I killed him.”

Okay. That certainly would put a damper on things. Steve quickly moved the fantasy of Eddie feeding at his neck as he fucked him, back in its box, and cradled his boyfriends face between both of his hands. 

“I love you,” was all he could say. 

“Didn't you hear what I just said?!” Eddie asked, defiantly. “I’m a murderer!”

“It doesn’t change the way I feel about you.”

“B-but, Steve, I—” Eddie sputtered, trying to look away again.

Steve didn’t let him, keeping his hold firm. “Do you love me?”

“More than anything,” Eddie replied with zero hesitation.

“Okay.” Steve grinned, leaning in to press a kiss to Eddie’s lips, tasting the salt from his still drying tears.

“O-okay?” Eddie asked, when he pulled back. “Steve, it didn’t stop with one homeless man. I tried animals but it wasn’t the same. I’ve killed, like, a dozen people by now.”

“I understand,” Steve said, because he did. 

And he knew exactly what they needed to do now. 

First, and most important, order of business was keeping Eddie out of jail. They needed a system, some way to find victims who wouldn’t be missed, people who had it coming, bad guys who deserved justice that always seemed to elude them.  

“How do you feel about vigilantes?”

Many thanks as always to my amazing besties @penny00dreadful and @pearynice for the encouragement and beta work! 😘

Permanent taglist(open): @penny00dreadful @pearynice @sidekick-hero @firefly-party @bookworm0690

@wonderland-girl143-blog @goodolefashionedloverboi @themagicalari @awkwardgravity1 @rocknrollsalad

[horsewithaface]

So I rewrote the Battle of the Five Armies for my Everyone Lives AU because yes I’m still in denial and no you can’t stop me

• Everything up to Fíli getting captured is the same

• Fíli is caught by Azog and held out over the cliff. Kíli is below in the nook. While Azog is giving his speech, Kíli shoots him from below in the wrist, causing him to let go of F��li. Fíli falls to the ground, onto Kíli, breaking his fall, who drags him into the nook and hides him as he tends to his brother’s wounds. Fíli regains his strength after a short moment and, despite Kíli’s better judgement, Fíli gets up, and races back to the top, calling for Kíli to follow.

• The two brothers fight countless orcs as they climb the stairs of Ravenhill, searching for Thorin. Once they come upon the plateau of ice, they find Bilbo weeping over Thorin as they speak.

• Kíli shuts down, thinking it is too late, but Fíli remembers something crucial. Back in Lake-town, he had pocketed a pouch of Kingsfoil in case his brother’s wounds hadn’t truly healed. With it was a messily-written note of Tauriel’s incantation written out phonetically.

• “I will not let you go, uncle. Not today. It is not your time. We will have a great feast tonight and will walk within the halls of Erebor among our kin. I cannot walk there without you.” - Fíli to Thorin as he kneels down opposite Bilbo, preparing the Kingsfoil. He rips open Thorin’s shirt, revealing the weeping wound before pressing the mixture into it. Thorin lets out a roar of pain but Kíli snaps to attention and runs to hold him down to stop his thrashing. Bilbo grabs Thorin’s hand with both of his, pressing his forehead against the bloodied knuckles, whispering pleas for him to hold on.

• The Kingsfoil incantation only partially works due to Fíli being a novice in elven spells, however it buys them time for Gandalf to get there and finish the spell properly.

• Thorin is taken to the medical hut where he regains his strength for the next week despite his refusal and insistence that he is fine. Bilbo eventually gets through to him and Thorin gives in, allowing the healers to aide him.

• Thorin does not remember what happened when he had succumbed to the dragon sickness, it is only when Bilbo flinches at a sudden movement of his when he is getting frustrated that Bilbo realises Thorin does not remember. Bilbo reluctantly tells him the truth when Thorin demands to know what he did wrong.

• Thorin never forgives himself for his actions, even going so far as to denying his birthright and banishing himself from Erebor. He gives the crown to Fíli who does not accept it, choosing to go with him for Thorin is more important to Fíli than ruling. Kíli never wanted the crown and so the brothers appoint Dain as the rightful king for they would not have prevailed without him.

• Thorin and Bilbo part ways, Bilbo returning to Bag End unsure if he will ever see Thorin again because despite what happened, he never blamed Thorin for it was the fault of the dragon sickness and not his own mind.

• After about a year, Bilbo hears a knock at his door. He is greeted with a very nervous Thorin, quite a juxtaposition from his usual stoic nature. Bilbo doesn’t believe his eyes, convinced that he is dreaming. Thorin cannot help but whisper, “Bilbo…” before engulfing the hobbit in a hug.

• Thorin rambles on a whole poetic speech about how he does not deserve redemption for his actions and he simply came to apologise. Bilbo takes Thorin’s face in his hands, pulling him down to eye level.

• “Stop it. Just stop it, you giant oaf. I forgive you. You never let me speak my mind after the battle. I never blamed you, Thorin. I never have and I never will. It was that bloody dragon, not you. I stand by my word when I say that I am glad that I have shared in your perils. You are more than any Baggins deserves.”

[aliorsboxostuff]

Hey! Sorry for the ask, but if you're still taking requests could I maybe request a Tyler Owens x ftm reader

Readers been on his storm chasing team for a bit, helps Boone coordinate the social media presence or something-

I don't have a well thought out prompt- just a like. How they get together finally after months of pining and comments of "are they dating yet?"

- 🌟

AHH HELLOOOO 🌟 ive been waiting for a Tyler Owens req for agessss nowww omg thank you and ofc my inbox is opened rn!! This fic turned more into like,, a yearning, slight slow-burn-ish fic with a hint of humour from the team lmaooo, ALSO! If y'all didn't know, Dani is Non-binary! So i’m giving them a They/Them pronouns, hope yall like it !! <3

Twin Flame Tornadoes

Tags: Tyler Owens x Male!Reader, StormChaser!raeder, FtM!Reader, No use of Y/n, Boone, Dexter, Dani, Lilly, Kate, Javi, Yearning, Crushes, Fluff, Hurt/comfort, just a bit yk, Found Family, Internalized Homophobia (?), maybe??, General Homophobia (westerners yeesh), Denial, Dirty thoughts, iykyk, Tyler is actually so smitten its insane, Such a lover boy 

There wasn't a lot of space in the West for someone like you. Someone who isn't normal, who didn't stick to ‘her’ own path in life and grow up, get a job, and start a family—No, someone like you takes up space, and most mid-westerners would look at you with burning rage in their eyes. Most would dismiss your identity, bigoted speeches and shouts at your face, protest against your community, and for half of your life you've grown accustomed to it, a unique shield you've perfected after years of dismissal.

But that shield became useless. The shield you've spent your life honing was now nothing but a backup plan, especially when you're with the Wranglers. Especially with Tyler

=====

There wasn't a lot of space in the West for someone like you. Someone who isn't normal, who didn't stick to ‘her’ own path in life and grow up, get a job, and start a family—No, someone like you takes up space, and most mid-westerners would look at you with burning rage in their eyes. Most would dismiss your identity, bigoted speeches and shouts at your face, protest against your community, and for half of your life you've grown accustomed to it, a unique shield you've perfected after years of dismissal.

But that shield became useless. The shield you've spent your life honing was now nothing but a backup plan, especially when you're with the Wranglers.

You joined the Tornado Wranglers just a couple of months after they took off. Back then, you were about to leave town as you finally got a proper job somewhere in Brooklyn, somewhere safer for you to exist. That night, the sudden ring from your phone halts your packing, your hand closing the suitcase while rummaging through your pile of clothes to answer the call.

“H-hey hello,” You greeted, shoving your phone between your ear and elbow. 

“Hey! How’s it going man!” Boone’s loudness almost made you drop your phone in shock, quickly collecting yourself as you catch yourself. “I hope you’re well!” 

“Boone? Is that you?” You smile, hearing your old high school friend's cheery voice. You hear a chuckle from the other end, making you grin.

“‘Course it is! One and only!” He answers. 

You chuckle, nudging some of your sweaters to take a seat, your bed creaking slightly. “Hey! I’ve been good, been okay. You, Boonie?” 

“Never better man,” Boone’s undoubtedly grinning ear to ear, you thought. “Listen, I got a proposition for you now- You busy?”

You shrug, knowing you’ll only be catching your flight in two days. “Nope, I'm all ears,” 

“So I’ve gotten myself into this storm chasin’ thing again, you remember right? Remember when we used to take your truck out in the fields, runnin’ out there and driving our asses way too close to tornadoes when we saw ‘em?”

You sigh, a thump on the bed as you throw your head back to the pillows. “Yeah, of course,  those were the days…” 

“Right? So I started doing this professionally and so-” 

“Wait,” You roll over onto your stomach as you stuff a plushie underneath you. “Professionally? Did you actually join-” 

“A storm chasin’ group! Yeah!” Boone’s laughs shake your core, and something warm churns inside you.

You recalled those days. In high school, you and Boone were inseparable. It didn't take a lot to know why, from an outsider's point of view. Back then, you were outcasted silently, your peers mostly talked to you only if need be, otherwise you were a recluse who kept to yourself, not by choice sadly. Though it's different with Boone. He never cared what you were, how you identified yourself. He sees you as you and for that same reason you two became good friends. At the age of 17, you got an old pickup all fixed up, and the first thing you did with it was to storm chase with Boone. 

That day, a storm warning rang around your town, and while your neighbors closed their windows and blinds, you and Boone took the truck out into the field and chased after it. It was exhilarating, the adrenaline was addicting as you felt the harsh wind against your skin, your hair astray, the loud cheers beside you as Boone was halfway out of the truck. It was dangerous, it was reckless, yet those were the best days of your life. 

Eventually, life took over, and when graduation came around, you busied yourself with college, unknown to you where your best friend went. You never imagined he was the first one to turn the once hobby into a profession.

“Now, about that proposition,” Boone clears his throat. You blink, an unwavering smile on your lips. “Seein’ as I'm now in the storm chassin’ business, me and my buddy need’s another guy for our team, yeah? And I mean, I thought, who else would be a better candidate than you!”

You laugh, though can't help but furrow your brow as you ask; “Wait- you want me? Boone I haven't chased in a while, not since high school,” A sigh as you run your hand through your hair. “I'm not saying no, ‘s just…”

“You don't need to do nothin’ you don't wanna! Buuuut…” He falters, you hear a click of a tongue. “We do need an extra hand on the camera…” 

You pause, eyebrows raising. “Wait… Camera?” 

That's how you found yourself being the 2nd cameraman for the Tornado Wranglers.

While Boone rides in the action truck, you stay back with Dexter and Dani, recording mostly behind-the-scenes shots for YouTube and the occasional passes of point of view whenever the gang goes storm chasing and streams it online. 

It's been a solid 2 years now, and since then the Tornado Wranglers have risen in popularity. From a couple thousand to now reaching a million followers on Instagram, a solid half a million on YouTube and Twitch. Not to mention the myriads of fan accounts now arose, especially for the group's appointed leader, Tyler. 

Each time you went to edit some footage of the latest run, there's always one or two fan edits you stumble across, mostly on Twitter, with yet another catchy pop song that Tyler probably would know if he wasn’t engrossed in his country music, that you’d have to roll your eyes at and scroll past. Not before bookmarking it. 

Truth be told, you’ve harbored a pretty big crush on the guy. Tyler was never one to care about whose identity is what, if he did he would’ve been harsher towards Dani or wouldn't let them join the team, but you were never sure where he swung. You and your gender were never a problem for him, but the constant heart throb whenever the blonde passes by will start being a problem for you. 

He’s a cocky flirt, confidence and charisma are practically an infinite fountain within that man. He’s smooth and witty and every girl's dream, which is evident with the majority of the Tornado Wranglers fanbase being women and the occasional longing gay men, much like yourself. If you don't take into account the usual Storm Chaser fans, the people on the internet would agree about Tyler being alluring. 

—

“Join us for a drink won't ya’?” The voice tore your focus away from the laptop screen and up to captivating brown eyes. The owner of said eyes is leaning on the doorframe of the truck, a shield from the bright floodlights as it captures his frame like a halo, his arms cage you just above your head, a playful smirk on his lips.

You grin, shaking your head to turn back to your laptop before your heart makes another leap from Tyler's presence. “Sorry boss, I gotta get this out tomorrow, remember?”

“I'm sure the fans won't mind it being a day late,” His dismissal would've been nothing if his hand hadn't landed on your shoulder, squeezing slightly which almost got you to gulp. “You’ve been on that thing for hours now, I think your eyes would appreciate the break,” 

His hold, warm and inviting, finally got you to sigh and save the active project, before promptly closing your laptop and facing the man. “Fine, but you buying,”

“Who said I didn't?” His hand drops to your wrist where he tugs slightly, getting you to exit the confines of the truck into the cold evening night. 

The crew was with the many other storm chasers, the motel’s parking lot filled with various trucks and music and chatter amongst many others. When you finally join the team as they lounge around the control van, they cheer at your and Tyler's arrival. Other than Lilly and Boone who were busy reviewing today's footage with various awes and cheers, they all had beers in their hand and were satiated after today's busy day. 

Tyler grabs two bottles from the cooler, offering one to you. Your hand grazes his slightly as you receive it, “I thought you said you were buying?” 

“Hey now, this pack came outta my pocket, y’know,” He chuckles, which makes you grin.

Suddenly, your eyes drop to where he’s holding the beer bottle as he brings it lower to his crotch level and fuck he guides the cap to his belt buckle and pops it open. The liquid inside fizzes slightly before he finally takes a swig, his lips curl around the tip as he gulps down, his Adam's apple bobbing with the motion, hands somewhat damp from the bottle's condensation. He wipes at his lips before his gaze drops to yours, a visible heat within them that makes you physically tear away from.

Did he really need to do that? Beside you too? Does he want me dead?

“Need a hand?” Yes- You cough, finding the soil beneath you interesting, 

“Uh sure yeah,” A forced gulp as you handed him your bottle. He repeats his earlier motion though you opted to save yourself from a growing arousal by glancing over to Dani. Yet that was also a mistake. 

Dani had their eyes on you the whole time, undoubtedly seeing the way your face grew in color at what Tyler did, and they smirked at how you completely chose to look down after focusing too much on the man's hand. They raise a brow, which you reply with a knowing stare. They laugh, their smirk just growing in smugness, before they tap something on their thigh which makes your heart drop. 

There, perching idly, is their phone, camera pointing towards yours and Tyler's direction. Your eyes widen, changing from looking at the phone, back to Dani, then back to the phone, before to Dani again, now your eyes soften into a plead. Your puppy eyes doesnt work on them as their phone flops back down to their thigh and into their pocket. 

You groan slightly before Tyler hands you your beer back. “Thanks,” you reply shortly and take a sip. 

The hood of one of the trucks was vacant so you took the liberty of perching on it, craning your neck to look up at the stars. The glimmering spots above were prominent here in the open fields, unlike those in the city. You knew, if you did take that job back then, you’d miss the easy breeze and clear skies of the mid-west. Tyler soon follows, leaning beside you, one arm hung on the hood, his stetson long forgotten somewhere. 

You figured the man would spend more time with Dexter, maybe plan out what they’re going to be doing tomorrow, but instead he hovers near you. He takes a sip, before he cocks his head upwards. 

“Next month’ll be storm season,” His eyes still focused on the sky when you glanced over. 

“Yeah? More toys for us to play with,” Tyler smiles as he hears your reply, you can't help but too. 

“There will be…” He takes a swig of his beer, the clicks his tongue as he finishes. “A journalist, from England. He’ll be going with us for some weeks,”

You hum, though a bit concerned. Not for the team no. If the Tornado Wranglers were dropped into a jungle with nothing but a match you're sure the team could pull through. You’re worried about the journalist, being from Europe no less. When you turn to spot Boone and Lilly both cackling at today's footage, hunched over the iPad, you chuckle, earning Tyler's attention.

“What? Something about the guy?”

“No no,” You smirk, sipping slightly from your bottle. “Just hoping the guy’ll survive us,” 

Tyler balks slightly, before he takes a glance at the crew scattered about, and laughs alongside you. There’s so much professionality the team can do, and while the obvious is to be proper hosts for the upcoming journalist, you can't help but imagine how insane it would be for such a prim-propper European to join a rag-tag group of Americans.

—

“Hey, Kate here take some food and water,” She glances towards the items you're holding, the girl immediately shakes her head. 

“I'm not buying food from you guys,” Her eyes widened, fixing you with a stare. Your head tilts at her response. 

“We’re giving these away,” Your head motions towards your friends behind you, giving out needed food, water, and clothes from the merch boxes. “We’re selling out shirts practically free and handing food and water away, everybody here needs some,” 

The destroyed houses around where you and Kate stood paint a clear picture. The tornado that Storm Par and The Tornado Wranglers were chasing destroyed the nearby town, effectively rendering some of the citizens there with no home and almost no remnants of their things, clothes and pictures scattered beneath the debris, The blonde’s eyes scan the area around, softening when she hears your explanation, eyes fleeting towards the van behind you.

She sighs and musters a small smile. “It's fine, I don't need it, give it to the other people,”

You hum, before pushing the bottled water into her hand. “At least take the water,”

“Okay, thank you,” She nods, another smile enough to reassure you. You reply to her nod before jogging back to your friends. Kate watches as you gather with them, immediately helping more survivors with food and clothes. She watches at your team, before glancing briefly at Javi, then climbs into the car and drives away. 

Later that night, while fatigue reigns over the team, everyone currently catching up over dinner and drinks, you watch as Tyler barely touches his food while downing his 2nd bottle of booze. You knew the man could handle his liquor, well over yours, but he rarely drinks as much as a 3rd bottle when it's with the group. Worry and suspicion steadily bubbling up within your heart.

As you took the space beside him, leaning on the cold car exterior, your flannel button up to combat the cold night air. “You okay?” 

“Hm? Yeah, pretty good,” He takes a sip, sighing as he finishes. “You?”

“Alright,” You nod. 

A silence falls between you and Tyler, though it's a mutually welcomed one. Usually, the team would be loud with a mixture of someone's Spotify playlist playing on the speaker, a thrumming of guitar from Dexter, or Boone just cracking jokes and making people laugh. Though tonight, you both knew the team was exhausted, physically and emotionally. Despite how many times you chase a tornado, the aftermath and impact it has on any town never get easier to swallow. 

You bask in the easy breeze, the usual humidity following a storm from the previous hours. The air invites you to tilt your head upwards, eyes shut to bask in its wind. It sways your lapels a bit, taking the day's tiredness away with it. When you feel a warm hand rests on your nape your eyes flutter open, Tyler’s warm browns greet you when you blink. 

He has something in his look, something warm with care and compassion. It swirls a deep whirlpool, pulling you deeper into its grasp, like longing and want and pining and you're too scared to find out which is which. You watch as Tyler’s gaze slips down and pauses on your lips, parted as you force yourself to inhale sharply, then immediately back to your eyes. A pregnant pause, too long to mean nothing, until he gulps and tears himself away, opting to pat your shoulder instead as his focus shifts to the ground. 

You had to collect yourself; a deep breath as you felt his sturdy pats, then he pulled slightly, a reassuring grip that grounds you. “I'm glad.” he finishes.

You had to blink and force yourself to take a sip from your bottle, mimicking Tylers movements in finding the dirt interesting. You were about to keep up the gimmick before his hand dropped which had you following his line of sight. Just meters away from the group’s huddle, Kate walks in the direction of her motel room. She’s in a hurry, something in the way she walks slightly fast and breath too labored. You recall you haven't seen her after handing her the water bottle hours ago, now that it turned into the evening,

When you turn to asses Tyler, he had the same look he gave you earlier. The same dark eyes with determination and longing. Something hurts, a pang in your chest, throat suddenly dry like you swallowed sand. 

He follows her steps, up the stairs, and as her door closes. 

Your eyes follow his.

Tyler hums, blinking once, before shaking his head and taking a big gulp.

The sting is back. It’s sharp and hard beneath your abdomen, like it’s begging to be let out, a nail inside a balloon that's starting to deflate too quickly. Enough to force you to breathe manually and gulp down your beer just enough to eliminate the possibility of anxiety.

You had to muster yourself to talk. “Go,” 

Tyler turns, a smirk on his lips. “Wha-”

“Talk to her Ty, I know you wanna.” You grin albeit forced. “She ain't okay, not like us. Go.”

He sighs. He takes another minute before handing you the rest of his beer then starts to walk towards the stairs. As he climbs the steps, your eyes meet his, a slight hesitation, before you give him a firm nod, and he continues to Kate’s room. 

You let out a breath you didn't know were holding, chest tight from god knows what. 

After a sigh, you decided to turn back to the others when Dani punched you straight on the arm, hard.

“Ow! What that for?!” 

“For being a dumbass!” They stand a head below you yet they could intimidate anyone within a five-mile radius. They sigh, poking an accusatory finger at your sternum. “You didn't see how Tyler looked at ya’? The boy had puppy eyes on you and you went off and told ‘em to chase Kate!” 

“What are you even talkin’ about Dani?”

They huff, wiping a hand across their face. “I know I’m the only one here that knows you like Tyler- don't cut me off.” You immediately close your lips. “But we all saw that! Hell, even Boone and Lilly did!” 

“You two were about to make out if it weren't for Tyler wussing out!” 

Heat shot upwards, coloring your cheeks in embarrassment as you immediately shot the thought down. “N-no we weren't, and you know that,” 

“‘Sides, look at him! He ran over to ask Kate-” As you spoke, the said couple ran past the group going god knows where with god knows what, Tyler's expression a calm and soothing wave while Kate’s anxiety slowly simmers down. You knew he was taking her somewhere to get her mind off of today's destruction. In another part, you're glad Tyler is the gentleman he is, in another, you wish you were in Kate’s position. 

“See!” You continue. “They’re probably going to a bar or something, take her mind off of things,”

Dani rolled their eyes. They heard the slight change in your tone, the hurt and hint of jealousy. They understand, they know just how long you've been harboring your crush. 

They sigh and turn, leaving you as you watch Tyler and Kate disappear into the night. 

—

“You used to be a rodeo cowboy?” Kate laughs, both in disbelief and awe. The man beside her grows slightly in color, admittedly looking anywhere but at her. 

He nods shortly. “Yeah, only for a bit, before I went to college and became a meteorologist,”

“I knew chasin’ storm was my calling, as much as I loved takin’ care of the bulls and horses,” 

Tyler’s focus is back on the show in front of them as Kate nods in acknowledgment. She used to go to rodeo shows, albeit not as much since she was busier with her studies, and not long after moving into New York. Tyler, much to her credit, isn't as bad as his internet persona makes him out to be.

The man beside her is confident but not cocky, has his knowledge to back up his snarkiness. She smiles when he laughs, captivating brown eyes enraptures her.

Kate recalls the moment before she stormed inside her room. Just out of her peripherals, she saw Tyler with his friend, the one other person he seemed to have a special connection unlike the others. She knows how much Tyler cares about his team, they're basically his family, though with the man that stood beside him, and the way Tyler had a secure hand on the man's back, Kate knew there was a hidden meaning between the gesture. She was too overwhelmed by her emotions that she shut herself in her room without much thinking, not until Tylern coaxed her out to watch the rodeo show. 

Another round of cheers erupted in the audience. All was well, until the wind picked up and Kate’s heart dropped. 

—

“Tyler fucking Owens!” Said man immediately spun around when he heard the familiar voice. Before he could react, strong hands grabbed the sides of his face like a vice. “You scared the shit out of me!”

“Are you okay? Hurt anywhere? Is everyone else okay? Where’s Kate–”

“Hey- Hey now, hey,” 

Tyler holds your wrists, his hold warm and grounding, evidence of his existence. It soothes you immediately, the consuming fear slowly dwindles into nothingness and when he slowly rubs circles atop your veins the erratic pumps subside. 

“Darlin’, I'm alright.” A smile playing at his lips.

Relief engulfs you as you choke back a sob. Instead, you pulled at the back of Tyler's head, crown connected with crown as you shut your eyes tight. You feel his hand slide to your nap, soothing your worry, another hand snakes its way from just below your ribs then to the middle of your back. A small pocket in the world was formed, a place enough for the two of you to let your worries float away, a bubble where you’re sure Tyler is safe in your arms. 

When Dexter informed the group of the tornado alert one town over, a chill ran down your spine. You left almost 20 miscalls on Tyler's phone and immediately headed to the town where the alert took place, hoping to god Tyler and Kate didn't spend the evening there. 

Your fear came true when you spotted the two between debris, ambulance and emergency personnel already surrounding the two to make sure of their condition and before you knew it you sprinted past the other civilians towards Tyler.

“Im glad.” You manage to choke out as the two of you separate, though your hand lingers on his shoulder. Tyler pats at your arm before he gives it a reassuring squeeze, the last of your anxiety ebbs away. 

You turn to see Kate making her way through the debris which immediately changes your focus to her. “Hey- Kate!” 

—

“Wait wha- I thought you ran in there to get Kate? Ty her planes about to leave-”

“I can't keep chasin’ someone I don't want.” He stops in front of you, his chest rising and deflating from his run in and out of the airport. 

“What do you mean?” 

He smiles, taking a step closer towards you which you instinctively backed away from. “Kate made me realize something that- damn smart woman!” Hes grinning, wide and blidning.

“When we met, I thought I wanted someone like her. She great, don't get me wrong, smart woman and I know she’ll go places if she keeps up in the storm business  but also- Meeting her made me realize something,”

He pauses as his hands slowly glided upwards, warm on your arms where they land. “As much as I wanted her, I’ve never worried about anyone as much as I worried about you.”

“When you ran after Kate yesterday, outside into the tornado, I thought I lost you. I was so scared- I’ve never felt fear like that. You were selfless, you ran with her knowing your safety wasn't guaranteed.”

He takes a ragged breath as he blinks rapidly, and your worry rises. He continues. “We’ve known each other for a long time, baby you were there when we started it all,” 

“All I’m sayin’ is that- I’ve liked you. Loved you for so long but I kept avoiding it cuz’ i didn’t wanna ruin what we have, And meeting Kate? Made me realize I shouldn't keep avoiding something I know you want too.” 

Finally, finally Tyler stopped to breathe as you stared, bewildered. On one side, you can feel your face growing in warmth from his, albeit, sudden and hurried confession, on another side you worry just how forward you had been with him. Were you the one that made him question his sexuality-

“But you’re not gay… are you?” You hesitate, voice small. 

Tyler laughs and it's almost contagious. “Honestly that's- I don't know. Not yet. But loving you? That, I'm certain.”

“But you- I'm a guy, Tyler. You see me as a dude, don't you? You don-”

“No, God no! I don't care what you were. You’re you, baby, and I love you for you,” 

You’re at a loss for words. You thought the man you’ve had a crush on was going to run into the airport and kiss the girl of his dreams, similar to those cheesy romance movies Dani and Lilly likes to watch but no. No. instead, the man of your dreams, the protagonist of your love life, is standing in front of you, devotion and love and yearning in his eyes as he stares into yours. He holds your arms softly yet insistent. 

You answer, through a trembling voice, “I.. I love you too, Tyler,” 

Without missing a beat, Tyler crashes his lips into yours. He pulls you by your hips, secure arms around you as you wrap your arms around his neck. He couldn't help but grin, making you laugh before he steals yet another breath, deepening the kiss by moving languidly, hand now rubbing circles. When your lungs burn, begging for oxygen, the two of you part, both panting with the centimeter of distance. Tyler rests his forehead against yours, sighing in pure contentment. 

“Woo! Finally!” You hear Javi’s voice making you recoil in surprise. The man in question is leaning out of the Storm Par truck, cheering at both you and Tyler. You laugh at his excitement, then suddenly Tyler’s head drops to hide into the crook of your neck, letting out a small whine. The sound would've spurred you on if it weren't for Kate also cheering as she walks out of the airport's doors. 

“Yes! Took you two long enough!” She grins, quickly pulling out her phone and snapping a picture. “I’m sending this to Lilly,” 

You laugh, holding onto Tyler’s flannel while he does the same, his laughs ghosting over your pulse. He stands, though his eyes are still deep in yours. Tyler moves a strand of hair behind your ear, his warm smile enveloping you. You can't help to smile as well, letting yourself fall deeper into those captivating browns.

— reblogs appreciated! Requests are open!

[hells-plaid-angel]

Dean had the lung capacity of a deep-sea diver. After years of holding his breath as he drove through tunnels, he'd honed the skill, only gasping for breath when the Impala's windshield broke through the darkness and into the light. The habit had formed as a child but lingered into adulthood as most childhood fantasies did.

As a boy, his father raised him on superstition. If you made a wish when the world was swallowed by blackness and you could hold your breath until the end of a tunnel, that wish would come true. Over the years he'd wished for a hundred stupid things. He'd wished his mother was still alive, that he lived a normal life or that a pretty girl would look his way. He'd wished his father had been the one who'd died in the fire. He wished he didn't feel that way.

Once Dean had blacked out in the backseat of the Impala when driving the I-90 through Boston. He'd come to with Sammy squealing like a stuck pig and John Winchester cursing like a sailor. For the next year, being in Massachusetts made him feel light-headed.

Kids and old men are similar in their love of rituals. Dean was no longer a child, but he wasn't ready to call himself an old man. The ritual had changed over the years, but at its heart, it was always the same.

Dean found his new ritual each night he woke from a nightmare. That night, he found himself in the bunker. The image of his hands covered in blood lingered in the darkness of the room. He held his breath wishing for the dream not to be true. He only breathed when he switched on the lights and found his hands clean. In his dreams, Cas was always dying.

The nightmares weren't helped by the fact that the angel had died, numerous times. His sleep-addled mind took time to sort fact from fiction. Had Cas come back this time?

Dean Winchester knew better than anybody that death didn't always stick. Dean Winchester knew better than anybody that the universe liked to make him suffer. Both statements were equally true.

In the nightmare, Cas had died in his arms. He'd awoken, held his breath, switched on the lights and choked out a breath, which sounded suspiciously like a sob. When the drowning feeling reseeded he found himself exiting his bedroom, searching for the object of his nightmares as a drowning man searches for land.

Dean would never admit to himself he was looking for Cas, but the knowledge was there. There were many things Dean knew but wasn't ready to admit.

Dean found the angel in the library of the bunker, absentmindedly flicking through ancient texts and Sam's collection of trashy fitness and lifestyle magazines indiscriminately. A heavy weight on his chest dissipated. Cas looked up at Dean's sharp inhale. He could breathe again.

"Hello, Dean," the angel greeted, as though he were late to some prearranged meeting.

"Morning, Cas," Dean spoke, for lack of a better topic of conversation. He collapsed into the seat beside Cas.

"It's currently 3:15 a.m. and the sun isn't scheduled to rise until 5:25."

"Thanks for the weather report, buddy," Dean griped. His tone lacked the usual exasperated edge he used when Cas said something that struck him as particularly alien, which was often.

"How are you, Dean? You seem... unmoored."

People in the twenty-first century didn't use words like 'unmoored'. Dean knew exactly what Cas wasn't saying. Dean seemed upset. If there was one thing Dean didn't cope well with, it was being anything less than 'fine'. They were experts in each other's pathology, which would always feel strange. Dean wasn't used to being known.

"Can we talk about something else?" Dean had been working on the concept of denial. However, avoidance was fair game.

"If I'm going to be staying here long term, I want to buy better magazines," Cas stated, tossing the magazine haphazardly. He'd been staying for longer than usual. Dean kept feeling like he was holding his breath, waiting for the angel to disappear.

"We can drive into town come morning. Need to clear my head anyway."

"You haven't been sleeping well," Cas observed, his eyes shifting their attention to Dean. The blue-grey eyes said more than his words. His eyes were an ocean to an inexperienced swimmer. Not everyone could read them. Dean could. There was something more to them. A strong rip beneath steady water. There was a storm raging beneath the surface.

"It's creepy that you've noticed that," Dean remarked.

"You haven't been very quiet."

Dean wondered how much Cas heard. Did he talk in his sleep? Did he call out Cas' name in the night? Had the angel heard the moments of weakness where Dean had let himself muffle sobs behind his hand?

"This isn't changing the subject."

"I've been changing the subject all week. Evidently, it's not working," Cas' voice was resolute.

He and Dean shared their stubbornness, which always led to unproductive stalemates. They were two bucks with their antlers interlocked, starving and trapped in their own idiocy.

"The thing about being human, Cas, is that things don't magically just get fixed because you want them to." Dean rebuked.

"I'm aware, but have you actually tried to fix it?"

They were fighting. Why were they fighting?

"Talking never really solved much in my line of work. You know that."

"Is this about work?" Cas questioned.

They hadn't had any difficult hunts in weeks. Cas knew it wasn't about the job. He wanted Dean to know he knew.

"It doesn't matter what it's about. That's not the point. You don't get it." Dean felt the truth pushing its way up to the surface.

"Then help me understand."

"The problem ��." Dean began before he felt anger or frustration choke the words from him.

"The problem is you keep dying."

He'd expected Cas to baulk at the confession. Dean wasn't one for sharing fears or feelings. What he hadn't expected was the look of horror that settled on the angel's face.

Dean scowled and scrubbed at his cheek, quietly cursing himself when his palm pulled back wet. Over the years, he'd gotten good at crying quietly. He hated that he was able to hide it from himself. Men didn't cry. Dean didn't cry. It was a lie, not so much a superstition, but a fable. A story he told himself.

"Dean I — I didn't realise my death... affected you so much. I apologise for the oversight," Cas spoke slowly, as though deliberately choosing each word with care.

How the hell could Cas not know his death, every goddamn one, hurt Dean? Cas was family.

"Yeah, well, I pegged you for a lot of things, Cas. Stupid wasn't one of 'em. So just... Be careful. I'm going to bed," Dean mumbled, praying for a quick exit.

Cas grabbed Dean's arm as he passed, stilling him. Dean felt the restriction return to his throat. He held his breath. He wished Cas knew what he meant without having to say it out loud.

Neither man spoke. The silence stretched long and loud between them. Cas clung to Dean's arm like a dying man to a life raft. For his part, Dean was just trying to stay afloat. Slowly, almost imperceptibly so, Cas' palm slid down to hold Dean's hand. Dean let him, which was as good as a confession.

There would be no confessions. A confession implied guilt, something that Dean had in droves, but not about Cas. It wasn't a lie so much as it was a fable. If a story was told long enough it became history.

He and Cas were still in the dark, biding time between apocalypses. He wished that when they finally found themselves in brighter times, there would be no need for confessions.

[thecoffeelovingfreak]

𝒔𝒐𝒘 𝒂 𝒔𝒆𝒆𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒚

sequel to eyes of the ranger

pairing: boothill x gn!ex-undertaker!reader

genres: western!au, angst, domestic fluff, bits of hurt/comfort

word count: 8.6k

warnings: spoilers for boothill's backstory, death, heavy angst, explorations of grief, gun violence, blood, implied suicidal thoughts, unhealthy coping mechanisms

notes: I've only seen the bare minimum of his story leaks, and they've been spinning around my head ever since. Some details of the timeline might be tweaked, or imagined/added, but that's just for the au. Still, please enjoy this sequel, and what more I've added to this world! Here's some flowers again :) 💐

Read it on ao3!

~~~

Candles cast their glow brightly across wood panels as you hummed a lilting melody. Hands played with your hair, tugging on the strands to draw your attention away from the swirling pot of stew.

“Papa?"

"He'll be back soon, sweetie."

Your daughter shifted on your arm as you placed the spoon back in its resting spot. Her head fell against your shoulder, no doubt growing bored as crackles of fire echoed across the cabin.

You resumed the tune, bouncing slightly from side to side. She perked up once more as you took her hand over your first two fingers, thumb covering its small size. Her eyes began to crinkle as her first few teeth were revealed by a smile. She always loved dancing and music, likely because of her "silly papa".

When he left for town in the afternoon, he tripped over the porch's last step – on purpose, you suspected. She quickly laughed from where she sat with you in the rocking chair, calling him the nickname as he straightened up again. In just a couple strides he was back in front of you, fingertip meeting her nose before she swatted at him. He chuckled, leaving another kiss on both of your foreheads and embarking again.

As you gently spun, her gaze drifted to the window. She lit up, brighter than any heavenly body, and pointed to the door.

"Papa! Papa!"

The sound of approaching hooves met your ears softly, leading you to peer through the glass panes. Unfortunately, your vision was greeted by the furthest people from Boothill.

The National Hunter's Agency had grown to infamy everywhere you went. They had been given many pardons, and bought off plenty of sheriffs and their higher-ups to be able to operate as they pleased in numerous states. It seems now, after two years, they had caught wind of your bounty and wanted to cash in.

You carefully set her down on the floor, hands staying at her sides in case she lost balance. With some support, you walked her to your shared bedroom, guiding her to hide in your shaker wardrobe.

An anxious hand rotated the knob on the front door, leaving you face to face with a row of five men. Two in suits at the center, and three dressed more rugged at their side.

"Good evening." one greeted, smoke flowing from his mouth. "I assume you know why we're here."

The reverberations of your boots ceased before the steps as you stared at the lineup. "Naturally."

He hummed, throwing the remains of his cigarette to the dirt.

The agent at his right spoke up, "Why don't you walk down here, then."

“Isn’t it your job to capture me?”

“Continue resisting and you don’t have to be the only one we take.”

Your resolution faltered, and the hunters closed in. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

“Are you sure?”

Glass shattered behind you, followed by heavy thumping. Tendrils of dread inched in, their freeze creeping over your bones.

“Step down.”

Despite every instinct screaming for you to move, to follow their commands, denial and fear kept you in place.

“You’ve got about one minute before we force you to.”

A glaze fell over your surroundings, the situation tumbling to the wayside as your thoughts and blood rushed in unison. It was five against one, and each of them were armed – you were not. They had more information than they were letting on. Someone was searching the cabin for your daughter, likely their sixth. She would be weaponized if she was caught, stuck in the crossfire of your bounty.

Was there a way out of this? To prevent what seemed increasingly inevitable?

Well, yes. You could give yourself up.

But there was no guarantee of her safety afterward, or that you would remain alive.

Still, you and Boothill had made a promise when you first took her in, just one year ago. If danger ever presented itself, you would lay down your lives to protect her.

One of the hunters drew his pistol as your boot hit the first step.

Another dismounted, his dirtied white shirt twisting, then straightening once more as he approached you. A rough grip captured your arms, dragging them behind your back. Something hard hit the ground at your right, a rope thrown by one of his partners. It was wrapped and tied around your wrists, the friction beginning to cast a light burning sensation over the skin.

A foot met the back of your knees as he tightened the restraints, dust rising at the impact. One of the agents joined you, the scent of smoke lingering on his fingers as he brought your head up to meet his eyes. They returned to his side a moment later as his gaze turned to the cabin.

A hunter had your little girl in his grasp, her steps short, frightened, and struggling as she was led down the stairs. She looked at you, searching for answers or what to do.

The saddled agent’s voice sounded from behind, “The NHA seeks to rid these ranges of their impurities. When you wish to uproot an evil such as yourself, no trace must remain.”

He gestured toward the four hunters, and his fellow agent disappeared from your view.

Then the brutality they were known for reared its unforgettable head.

The low flat heel of a dress shoe met your back, staying there as you writhed on the ground, watching up at your daughter.

A metallic barrel crept to the rear of her head.

The tendrils of dread became horrible claws, sinking into every organ and twisting.

Warm ruby droplets cascaded over pale brown and flesh, as the shot’s echo dulled your senses and her body crumbled to the ground.

The claws dug open a void as a defeated cry exit your lips. You were released from under the agent’s foot, flipped over to stare at the cloud-stricken dusk. Voices yelled around you, the words fading into one persistent cacophony. A hand pressed itself down onto your shoulder, before a pain blossomed in the other. A rugged face peered down at you, contempt rising in their features. A new flower of sharp ache grew in your left thigh, tears finally stinging at your eyes.

A fresh splattering of blood flowed over your face, shocking you out of despair. Their body went limp over yours, and you quickly brushed them to the side. Now free from the hunter’s reach, you sunk your hands into the dirt beside you, slowly turning yourself back to your stomach. The hilt of a knife hit the ground as you did so, veins coming alight with panic from its twist in your wound.

Despite every injury, you only had one focus – to see your daughter one last time.

Sharp gravel digged uncomfortably underneath your legs as your restrained hands inched forward. Blood thrummed in your ears, yet the unmistakable sound of gunshots broke through. Within a matter of seconds someone rushed to your crawling form. They called for you, voice breaking at the scene as a hand brushed through your hair.

“Darlin’?”

Your head rose at every emotion kept within that one word, asked by a husky voice you could find in any darkness. Anguish cast itself over his face when he finally saw what you were headed toward. He sank to his knees next to you, a wrecked sob reaching into the evening only to be greeted by no comfort.

Reluctantly, you gazed at your daughter’s corpse, journeying silently past Boothill to finally touch her.

A sticky scarlet liquid mocked you, revealing your sorrow-stricken features coated in its kind within the pool. Your fingers rose to her, a warmth lingering below as she was turned. You summoned any last inkling of strength you had, smiling down to her and speaking softly.

“You were my pride and joy, sweetheart. I’ve had no greater honor than being your parent.”

You leaned down, a soft kiss landing on her forehead before you cried a chant of apologies. When any words you could conjure finally entered oblivion, your eyes looked back to Boothill. He hadn’t moved an inch, rendered paralyzed by the gravity of what he arrived home to. It seemed as though he had been ripped apart, every wire inside of him fraying.

This was your fault, and you were sure he knew that too.

Regret became a well in your heart, rising from the depths and overflowing onto its dying grass. Your head ached, thoughts swirling until each one sinked in grief’s whirlpool. In resignation, you lie beside her, holding her chilled hands between your fingers. If you closed your eyes, you could still see her smile as you danced making dinner.

It would feel best if you never opened them again, but you couldn’t leave Boothill to carry this weight alone. He didn’t deserve such a fate.

A hand swiped over your stained cheek, drawing you back to miserable reality. Tears descended from silver, embers kindling beneath their despair. You lifted your hands from hers, closing her lifeless eyes. Boothill’s hat rested at his chest, head downturned from where he knelt.

Together, you mourned.

—

PART I - Fatherhood And Other Dreams

"Papa! The moo-moos!"

"I see them!" Boothill chuckled, watching a finger point at their pasture.

Rena wriggled against his side, wanting to move closer to them. He complied, jogging to the wooden fence as she smiled.

Her small hands reached past the log fence, petting along one of the cow's heads as it grazed. She had such an affinity for the animals here, something you always joked she got from him.

Every morning like clockwork, she would point them out, longing to go and sit with them for a while. He would join her, occasionally teaching her things about their diets or hair as she would get close and stare into their big brown eyes.

Today she angled back against his leg and smiled at her altered reflection in them, before you tousled her growing hair. He hadn’t heard you approach, too absorbed in the scene to hear your boots kick up dust. His hand rose to rub against the back of your neck as you leaned into him, sipping on your mug of black coffee.

He had noticed your odd positioning on the pillow, no doubt leaving you with some pains when you woke. Quiet snores filled the room; something he would laugh with Rena about, her high-pitched giggles overtaking the silence of the night as her hands pat against your cheeks. Your light snoring would cease, and your face would scrunch up at the unexpected disturbance before you recognized the poking of your daughter. He watched as you tickled the side of her neck, placing a hand on her back when she fell on your chest and wiggled around in joy.

He’s never felt more love than in those little moments, witnessing his entire world as two shining stars amidst the murky midnight.

“In!”

“Brush first?”

“Yeah!”

He was brought back to you after a quick shake of his head, two gazes of the same color waiting for him. One enthusiastic, the other fond and patient as he bent down to pick up Rena. She played with his low braided hair, pulling a few small strands free. You ventured to the stables, likely fetching a brush that she had dropped on one of the chairs yesterday.

The grass was fresh with dew, shining under the morning rays. He opened the gate with ease, feeling a breeze run over his cheeks as he shut it behind him. The pasture was wide, yet filled with only ten cows. Each one would be brushed daily by Rena, starting with one patterned in brown and white. It was an activity she had adored since the first time you had brought her out to help just a couple months ago. Seeing how much she enjoyed it, he joined the two of you only a week later.

You came to his side, handing the brush over to her as you sipped on your coffee. He gestured at you with his chin as bristles met little hairs. With a smile, you turned the mug in his direction, a warm and bitter liquid flowing over his tongue.

A gentle laugh left your lips when the cow’s head moved, rising up into the brush and slightly twisting into it. Rena turned to you, beaming as she moved the brush to another spot. The cow reacted in turn, and you laughed again.

~

The wood ceiling of the barn came into view as Boothill’s head was tugged backward. A light chuckle echoed through the space, falling in time with the noon bird's chirp. His hat tumbled to the hay and dust riddled floor, yet it didn’t remain for long. Little hands left the ends of his hair, snatching the hat instead. He watched, bale in hand, as you scooped up Rena. In a swift motion, you placed his hat on her head, one arm wrapped around your neck and the other reaching for the large brim.

The bale crashed onto the floor, beginning a new stack by one of the stables. The sound brought Rena's attention to him, her head tilting backward to spot him from underneath the hat.

“Like papa!”

“You wanna be like him?"

"Yeah!"

"Then we're gonna have a lot to teach you."

He grinned, the brightness of the sun’s rays and his daughter’s admiration seeping into his smile. With her now distracted by one of the horses, he wrapped an arm around your waist, leaving a kiss on your lips before continuing his work.

~

The orange and golden rays of sunset beckoned your gaze to the large window overlooking the front porch. Rena slept peacefully on your chest, a combination of a full stomach and boredom likely the cause. You brought the book in your right hand to the other supporting her, flipping the page carefully.

The slow thumping of boots echoed through the door, prompting Rena to stir. She had always been a light sleeper, though she didn't always fully awaken. It seemed that this evening she would, leaning backward into your hand as the door opened. Boothill's figure emerged, lit by the bright horizon. She shuffled as her eyes opened to meet his, slowly laying further backward against your hand. Letting the leather-bound book fall from your lap, you wrapped both hands around her. She whined, leading one of your brows to raise.

Boothill inched closer, stopping at the edge of the rug in your little living area. You set Rena down, your hands staying at her sides. She watched the floor intently, gaze shifting between it and her papa. Quickly you picked up on her intentions, standing behind her and holding her hands just above her head.

Her foot moved forward slightly, and excitement blossomed on both your and Boothill's faces. He knelt down, holding his arms out for her. Feeling encouraged, she moved faster, taking her first few steps with your support. When she finally reached her papa, he lifted her up, cheering at her along with you. She beamed, her feet kicking back and forth in the air as she giggled.

~

The stars twinkled in the growing twilight, contrasting with the auburn and violet hues on the horizon. Cool grass stood between your fingers, the tranquility of the coming night bleeding into your spirit. The hill provided a lovely view of the valley below as crickets began to chirp. A thin herd of deer moved like whispers just a few feet before you.

One startled in your direction, the sound of Rena picking at strings increasing its paranoia. She was transfixed by the instrument, plucking as she sat in Boothill’s lap. His affectionate gaze watched down at her, adjusting the blanket over her legs.

There were many nights over the past few days you would wake to find Boothill absent from your bed. Rena would stir at your side, face scrunching further into the pillow as she murmured. After returning her stuffed bear from the other side of the bed, you would walk to find him at the kitchen table. The fire lit various scenes; some filled with brushes and varnish, others with whittling tools and etched knobs. Sometimes he would be passed out against the table, shavings coating his cheek. He wanted to complete the gift as soon as possible, his wish of sharing and passing on melodies and lyrics from his life fueling his craft.

Feeling fingers brush through his hair, Boothill would awaken to your soft gaze. Wordlessly you wiped his cheek, taking his hand in yours and bringing him to bed.

Gentle singing met your ears, skilled strumming of a guitar accompanying it. One large hand shifted up and down the strings, holding, shaking, and lifting to change the tune. The other encased one of Rena’s guiding her through the song.

The sun completed its descent underneath the horizon, and the herd of deer found their way back into the forest. Hints of light hung in the sky, now joined by colors of dandelions and the deep sea. The high-pitched babbling of your daughter chimed in during certain sections, forming a heart-warming duet. With your head on Boothill’s shoulder, you hummed along.

—

The town of Iris Creek was blissful, wilted blossoms gathering on the path's edges from the growing heat. The watery flow of its namesake echoed through the grand trees, calming your mind as you approached with Boothill at your side. After your most recent hunt, a week of rest was well-deserved.

Leaning down, you let the velvety liquid rush between your fingers. Its chill permeated your flesh, a content smile on your face as Boothill toyed with your hair.

“I enjoy seeing you this way.” he whispered, staring at you lovingly.

You turned, removing your hand from the water and laying back on the grass.

“At ease?” you questioned.

He nodded, resting down beside you, hat on his chest. You brushed aside his lengthening bangs, turning the strands together before running a thumb over his cheek.

He leaned into your touch as you asked, “Do you watch me sleep then?”

Embarrassed, his face angled toward the ground.

“Gettin’ shy on me, cowboy?”

He gave no response, simply meeting your eyes with a tender silver. Your lips met his cheek, feeling the bashful warmth gracing his features.

“I like it.” you spoke softly in his ear, leaving a little bite along the lobe.

One hand came up to your waist, holding tightly as your focus shifted to his neck. The other fell into your hair, gripping after a bold lick to the revealed skin.

“Can’t help but be at your mercy, sugar.”

“Such a charmer.”

“Around someone like you, it’s only natural.”

A nibble at the edge of his jaw led his fingers to rub underneath your shirt.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Well, look at you. One conversation and I was hooked.”

“All it took was one challenge for you to love me?” you chuckled.

“Sugar, all it took was one glance.”

A cry reverberated down the creek as you finally kissed Boothill’s lips. It was panicked and small, drawing you almost entirely from the moment.

Pushing off of his chest, you sat up to survey your surroundings. Boothill rubbed your thigh, looking at you curiously. Just a minute later the two of you stood, spotting a tarnished cloth amongst the bank’s brush.

“Do you see that?”

He followed your gaze, walking ahead of you only to kneel down and lift the sullied fabric. His eyes widened as he beckoned you over. The crying intensified, a tiny head turning from side to side.

A baby.

Boothill was the first to move, cradling them gently in his arms. You brought a finger to their grabbing hands, brushing another one over their forehead.

“What should we do?” you wondered aloud.

“Take them in?” he uttered.

“Are we ready for that, though? We’re wanted criminals, Boothill. That’s no life for a child.”

“Then we settle down.”

“There’s still no guarantee we won’t be hunted or ambushed.”

Your hands fell back to your side, unsure eyes watching the gears turn in his mind.

“We would be their parents, together we can take anybody. Lay down our lives if necessary. We could find somewhere more isolated, maybe even further out of this state. Teach them some of our methods as they get older.”

A heavy sigh left your lungs, the weight of dozens of questions slowly dissipating. There were many details to discuss and new plans to craft. Nonetheless, your head landed on Boothill’s shoulder, two adoring gazes on your child.

~

Butter-colored rays bore through the train car’s windows, wide mountains of tan rock and green bushes waiting outside. A bundle of blankets lay in your arms, encasing your daughter in comfort and warmth.

Boothill had left for them not long after you brought her back to the hotel, returning worriedly with them in hand. They were soft and luscious, leading you to wonder who he had stolen them from. “Only the best for our little girl” – it wasn’t just a statement but a promise.

Another was sworn that evening, your daughter finally clean and sleeping in your arms. Boothill rest behind you in the bed, shielding your small family from any danger while wrapping you in care.

“What should we name her?” he asked quietly, warm breath fanning over your neck.

You pondered silently, letting your head lay on his shoulder. “How about Rena?”

He hummed, a thick finger running over her forehead. “From that play of Effie's, right?”

“I think her story was admirable. Live freely, out on your own road, never waste your time with what you can’t change.”

“Now I like the ring of that.”

“See?” you smiled, a teasing slant to it. “When I wrote to her a few days ago she added in a thought or two about the characters. She said Rena also meant melody, at least according to what she could find in Thatcher's library.”

“Then it's settled.”

His chin landed in the crook of your neck as he simply watched her be, absorbed in thoughts of the future. It wasn’t until she stirred, eyes opening and hands seeking, that you witnessed him take on a gentleness formerly reserved for only you.

His eyes began to water as she held his finger close, staring up in his direction yet unable to pin him down. When she finally did, he sat like a spooked deer, only releasing a low, happy chuckle after your own.

A cough down the car broke you from idle reminiscence. Boothill read a crinkled paper, the letter sent from the ranch you were seeking out. He had come back one evening with the result after days of asking around. Down near Iron Springs, there was someone with plenty of land – could provide decent wages and a cabin to stay in. A suitable place to settle down, with much for Rena to learn and experience.

Taking his cheek between your empty fingers, you pinched and watched him grumble. Despite your lifestyle, you could only hope that this would be a lovely and safe life for her.

—

PART II - A Luminous Star, Ephemeral

Murky skies cried chilling droplets, harshly soaking your bloodstained shirt. The evening had to be setting in, but any hope of seeing the sun finally fade had long since dissipated with the storm’s onslaught. A frayed splinter dug into your palm, the weight of the shovel increasing as the hole in the ground deepened. The dirt was malleable, easy to unearth and pile up.

Many graves were dug by your hand, and you prayed this would be the last.

Boothill wept only a few feet away, Rena’s corpse in his arms underneath a sturdy tree. Ashamed, your gaze fell back to the emptying plot.

Heavy throbbing found its home along your left side, yet still, you had to dig. The pain was deserved – a punishment that fit your crime. Crusting edges tug and bent at the surrounding skin, the quickly cauterized wounds only growing more irritated by the rainwater.

Trickles of pink traversed down your cheeks, blood washing away slowly with your tears. Leaning on the shovel, your eyes rose from the ground. A strong and steady breeze cast the rain in sheets, carving figures in the mist. Discerning who they were was useless, you could remember them anywhere.

Your father, the Weston family, and your daughter.

The mud and soil coating your fingers shifted to a deep scarlet, beads falling from their tips and hitting your boots. Trees morphed into tombstones, and you found yourself paralyzed. Mr. Whitfield’s gravelly voice rang in your ears, drowning out any natural melodies.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to mourn a pure soul, lost too soon. Rena Blackwell was an adored child, and she will continue to be so in our thoughts, and all the way to the depths of our hearts. Her smile could dispel any darkness, and her curiosity persisted to the ends of the earth. Her fascinations lie with animals and music, her greatest friends a pony and her papa’s guitar. May she find eternal peace amidst these mountains and plains, their windy song carrying her gently to the hereafter.”

Lightning crackled across the sky, an omen of your judgment day. Boothill’s shadowed figure stand illuminated by the last ounce of daylight breaking from the clouds. Rena lay delicately in the grave, eyes closed and hands folded, his hat just beneath their union. Wordlessly he took the shovel, leaving you to kneel at her side as dirt cascaded over her corpse.

Stars found their stages in the wisp-struck night sky, their beaming light mocking. If they were tangible to Earth, you would have left plenty of rounds in them. Mourning was an act displayed to you since childhood, but it never came easily. Perhaps that was part of the point. Loss would never be simple, and humanity is far too complex to handle it so. Death was an odd thing, and despite working so intimately with the inevitable specter, it had yet to reveal every one of its forms.

Every body you would prepare never revealed its secrets. No amount of soap and water could cleanse it's invasiveness. No number of incisions and blood drained could release the agony. The fluids injected could not provide life, and clothes would only emulate. Death was permanent, and excruciating to all.

You could shoot a man without hesitation, but being along the receiving end of that cruelty, you could only resign yourself to regret. You killed bad men, yet they still had lives. Friends and family they found or created.

The grating sound of a knife on wood reached your ears, breaking into your thoughts. Boothill sat opposite to you, a neat piece of bark in his hands. Raging thunder rolled, sending a chill down your spine. Paranoia created the shattering sense that you would be reunited with Rena by dawn. Either by your own hands or someone else’s; perhaps the heavens would shoot back, sanctioned by some higher force that heard your monologue.

You watched him work, one tainted hand of yours rubbing back and forth over the dirt housing your daughter. His actions soon faded to oblivion as the song of the storm played on.

When a new bolt of lightning crashed, you became privy to her tombstone.

Rena Blackwell

Beloved star

1892 - 1892

Boothill stood, utterly dejected and tear-stained, before extending a hand down to you. His head met your shoulder once you rose, and one of your hands reached his hair. Strength was needed of you, not misery. The only comfort you received was a fact – no harm would befall you in Boothill’s arms, unless he pointed the gun at you instead.

—

Cheers ascended from under the floorboards, filling your pitch-black room with taunting joy. Your eyes remained on the ceiling, hands at your sides as you lay still – attempting to sink into the hard mattress while the hurricane to your left continued. It was the sixth night ending like this. Boothill had yet to find slumber, his journey to it only filled with suffering. He never reached out, always keeping his back to you and his face toward the pillow.

Despite the stinging urge to run your fingers through his hair, not once could you ever. Conflicting instincts wanting nothing more than to soothe him, but craving an escape.

You rubbed your eyes, throwing the sheet off of your body. The night chill creeped in, the sensation a welcome dissipation for your tenseness. A sniff echoed before a heavy sigh, and not even a moment later the bed resumed its light shaking. Stomps came in unison from the bar below, startling you to jump. With a worn exhale you sat up, feet touching the rough floor. In just a couple quick movements, you were dressed well and ready to face the ruckus below.

A saddened silver gaze finally revealed itself in the sliver of light from the doorway, but yours focused only on the ground, afraid to face him.

Instead, you would find solace in a bartender’s hands, the liquor he poured leaving a delightful blaze in your throat – easing the pain one sip at a time. It was only now you could understand why Isaiah Weston made the choices he did. Too cowardly to navigate his emotions, much less his son’s. The vulnerability intimidating, and any words gone with the wind. A weight too heavy to hold, but various fears preventing you from ever sharing it.

Getting lost in the bottle was a romantic escape, then, even if you would come to regret it. That blossomed the vicious cycle, when your method of coping only added more guilt – defeating the purpose of this night to begin with.

A hand placed itself on your shoulder, bringing your gaze from empty shot glasses to a familiarly styled head of black hair. Tears rapidly welled in your eyes, spirit feeling despondent when their hand returned to the counter.

“Jasper?” you whispered, feeble hope fueling your delusion.

They shook their head at you, “I’m afraid that’s not my name.”

“My apologies.” you nodded, downing another round as they began talking to the bartender.

He was dead, the first to meet the end of your revolver. There was no place to find him besides six feet under, at the very cemetery you first met.

Perhaps a visit to Fort Talia was what you needed. It had been four or five years since you left that fateful night with Boothill, never to look back. Although now, after everything, maybe looking back is the right thing to do. Return to, and learn from the past in order to glance forward. Walk the deck of the funeral parlor, stop by your old house. Finally speak to your mother again.

It was decided. Talk to Boothill come morning and see if he would join you.

—

Bright noon rays lit up the dusty buildings of Fort Talia, its peaceful people walking past Boothill with nods and greetings. Under any other circumstance he would respond, however words failed him now. The brim of his new hat hung low, obscuring his features and providing a bit of comfort. The less others saw of him the better.

He was fractured, too many pieces scattered across the range for him to find. Conversation would not come easy when he could hardly even handle a talk with himself. Your hotel rooms had become suffocating as of late. Silence reigning and gazes only ever in opposing directions. It was cold – a sensation Boothill had become unfamiliar with after all these years. That only served to make your icy temperament feel like a burning hell. No words exit your lips, eyes focused out of windows, on the ceiling or the floor. It was unbearable, the shunning that leaked from your figure.

What had he done to make you feel so? Was he even to blame?

Silver watched the clouds drift over the sky, a horrible longing to join them occupying his mind. A nearly impossible fate for him, now feared more than ever.

“Papa!”

A small, light voice shouted excitedly, followed by the pattering of boots on the deck.

Boothill turned expectantly, arms shifting and ready to pick up his daughter.

Instead he was made a fool.

He quickly returned to a regular stance, leaving down the nearby alleyway to lean himself against the wood. That was somebody else’s child, not his. The title he came to love most would never be used again, abandoned amidst the Iron Springs forest. “Papa” was her first word, and possibly even her last.

He recalled the tears you shared when she spoke, listening to her babble about him. Her voice was that of angels, as if he was finally worthy of speaking to the heavens.

Now he lost that angel, the most vivid star in the sky.

~

Three moss-coated tombstones lay before you, names that you first came to know at fifteen.

Isaiah, Callie, and Jasper.

Ellis must rest in Warren, then. Forever separated from his family.

A couple desert marigolds grew along the path to the cemetery, and you left one at each of their graves. Six in total gathered in your hand – one for each person you were to visit, as well as two extras for whoever you saw fit.

Boots trudged through the dry ground, avoiding stones that shaped plots or decorated the base of a tombstone. Rocks of grey and tan sat below your father’s and the one now beside it.

Upon reading the inscription, the marigolds fell to the dust.

Your mother was buried at his right, her death only one year ago.

With your forehead to the fine wood of said tombstone, your resolve finally crumbled. Any strength you wished to hold forsaken for the misery you denied. Tears flowed and fell frenzied, patiently creating a mud where your fingertips dug into the ground.

All of this loss, but why?

Why cherish anything if it would only be ripped away?

Holding your precious little girl one moment, only for her blood to splash over your face the next. Befriend a lonely boy, one who you found a kinship with, just for him to be shot by your hand.

Your mother, who despite her own mourning, still silently reached out to you, giving you what support she could muster. Your father, who robbed and killed unbeknownst to you, still provided and taught you things he knew about the world that would never be shared at the old schoolhouse.

They all had one common thread – loving you.

Burden, plague, curse. All words that could describe what a detriment you were. If they never loved you, never met or created you, perhaps their fates would be different.

What of Boothill, then?

—

Droplet-stained windows displayed a wagon of bottles stopping outside of the saloon. One of the drivers lept from its front, unlocking the back panel and pulling out two jugs. He lifted them in each hand, a big smile on his face as he cheered through the doors.

The crude and familiar scent of cigarette smoke curled through the window as you cracked it open, the stale quietude of your hotel room grating your nerves. Boothill observed you idly from the bed as you inhaled deeply, palms on the framing. The smell was lovely now, soothing almost. His gaze bore into you, seemingly trying to decipher your inner world.

"What is it?" you spoke softly, head turning toward him.

He sighed, eyes shifting to the ceiling. "I… You've just been so… cold I guess. I try not to take it personally, but I can't help it sometimes."

"Our daughter died, Boothill."

He sat up, "You think I don't know that?"

With a heavy exhale, you faced him. "Of course you do, but I just…"

"Every day begins and ends with her. Not a second goes by where that scene ain't fillin' my head."

"You assume it isn't the same for me? I watched them shoot her – her blood was on my face for hours! Do you think I can forget that?"

"I'm not askin' you to!"

"It sure sounds like it!"

"I just want some answers and for you to recognize that you're not the only one hurtin' here. Shutting me out hasn't been doing any good."

"Shutting you out? I recall you doing that to me. Any time I reach out, you leave or move away from me, and I get no words, nothing! You've got no love or respect for me anymore!"

"Don't you go there." He stood, inching closer to you with every word. "How dare you say that I feel nothing for you. If anything, you've been giving that treatment to me. Do you know how it feels to lay there cryin', wishing that your partner would just run their fingers through your hair and share that pain with you? No. Instead they go out for the night doin' who the heaven knows what, and then return at dawn like nothing happened. Like they didn't just abandon you to return reeking of alcohol or bruised and bloodied. Do you know how powerless that makes somebody?"

"I'm handlin' my own pain my way. I'm tryin' to be strong for you!"

"I don't want you to be strong for me! I want to know that my partner is here, and never leavin'! You remember what I said? I take care of you and you take care of me. That was the promise!"

"Well how are you takin' care of me exactly?"

"How am I supposed to begin if you never let me in!"

"Rich comin' from the likes of you."

"Why're you talkin' down to me? Do you think that helps?"

He paused before you, staring down into your eyes with a mixture of fire and love – an undertone of concern and fear. His hands came to hold your shoulders, and you hesitantly accepted the touch. One drifted up to the side of your neck, his thumb tracing your jaw and the edge of your cheek. The way he'd always comfort you. A guilt began setting in, tearing and biting at your throat, preventing any words from leaving you – likely for the better after your childish retorts.

"I don't wanna fight with you, darlin'. Please, just talk to me."

Wordlessly, you placed your arms around his neck, hugging him cheek to cheek. His own came to encase you when you finally whispered everything in his ear.

"I miss you… so much it hurts. I'm so sorry for all of the turmoil I've given you. That was never my intention. I just… I felt like you hated me. Blamed me for her… death."

"I never could."

"And I know that now. I didn't mean to be so cold, and I understand how you need me. I must admit I'd like to be selfish and have you do the same."

"That's not selfish."

You sniffed, "My… my mama died a year ago."

"Darlin'..."

"I didn't know." Fresh tears welled in your eyes. "She had no way to write to me. I have no idea what could have happened to her. She was all alone, lost to the world in our little house."

His hands descended to your hips, carefully stepping backward as you clung to him reluctant to move. He turned, setting you down on the bed before walking to get a blanket off of one of the chairs. The soft wool came into your hands before a weight settled behind you.

“Lay down.”

You shifted up the bed, throwing the blanket over your legs and resting your head. Boothill shuffled up next to you, his cheek to your chest. He stared up at you, eyes closing when your fingers finally ran through his hair. A sigh filled the room, mingling with gentle neighing from the street below. Silver was revealed to you once more, a low and husky whisper reaching your ears.

"We had this huge tree, back on the farm down in Redhawk. Its branches were wide and overflowing with leaves, but on a windy night you could see the stars through them. My fathers, they were always dreaming -- planning for our future. We'd sit out there and they'd talk for a while, answer any of my questions and teach me some life lessons. Eventually, one would get to strummin' on the guitar and we'd sing and cheer along – it was the most fun when some of their friends would come to visit or we'd host some guests from the road.

One was more pragmatic than the other, though they both had sharp minds. He could talk to anybody, find out anything he wanted to know. More caring and gentle, but still very strong. My other was a great gunslinger, and charismatic to a fault. He was a little rough around the edges, but I loved him anyway. They were my idols; taught me nearly everything I knew before I started goin' on the round-ups. Wasn't until I went back to our farm just a couple years later that I found it tore apart, two letters on the dining table for me. They were gone -- one captured and killed by the NHA and the other off to get revenge. He left me one of his revolvers, the same one I still use today."

Your fingers ran over his exposed cheek, noting the brimming water in his eyes matching your own.

“They raised a brilliant son.”

Your voice cracked as you finished speaking, watching him cry into you as you released your own burdens. The euphoria of budding forgiveness and the grief previously set aside catching up to you. It seemed that nearly every pain of yours was one he shared at some point or another, and it only emphasized the resolution of your argument.

You needed each other now more than ever.

—

“Are my eyes playin’ tricks on me?”

“Well I don’t believe it either.”

A man shook hands strongly with Boothill, hitting his other down on his shoulder. He had a confident glint in his hazel gaze, a boisterous air around him.

“How’ve you been, you beautiful piece of scrap?” he chuckled.

“Times have certainly been better.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, friend.” was his somber reply.

You extended your hand, feeling a calloused one against your palm.

“I see you’re his partner in crime, undertaker.”

“You got one of your own yet?” you asked, trying to keep the atmosphere light.

“Of course! You’re more than welcome to come by tonight and meet her, our kids as well! We’ve got two of them raisin’ hell all over the place.”

“Thank you, but-”

“We’ll be there.” Boothill interrupted, a sharp smile contrasting with his sullen eyes.

“I’m happy to hear that!” Lee beamed, “Some supper'll be ready for you.”

His hand hit your elbow playfully before he focused on Boothill.

“What liquor do you like now, ‘Hill?”

~

Lee’s porch was well-lit, a small garden out front with bright flowers and a structure of twigs resting alongside the stairs. It was likely built by his children, or whoever got distracted while watering and left puddles on the steps. A light knock reverberated through the door, summoning a figure that stood as tall as the knob to open it.

“Hello!”

Quick steps came from behind them, before the door was tugged open further.

“Come in, please!”

You were the first to cross the threshold, a large fireplace and a set table coming into view. Chairs were gathered immediately to your left, some books and a half-built pyramid of empty cans decorating the scene. Blankets were gathered against the wall, dark brown eyes meeting yours as a shaggy dog rose from its bed.

Lee carried a pot to the table, a white cloth protecting his hands from the hot handles. He uttered warnings of the heat to his kids, the same ones who greeted you at the door. Another figure, just slightly taller than him, followed behind with a pitcher of water in one hand and a bottle of bourbon in the other.

While they continued preparing the food and adjusting the ambience, one child tugged on the ends of Boothill’s coat. The other peppered him with questions, looking excitedly at his gun and even more so at the chamber kept in his arm. A small smile grew on his face at their attention before they returned to Lee, wanting to know stories about his “heroic” friend. He followed them to the table, pouring two cups of water from the pitcher and handing it to them. Joyfully, they thanked him and resumed their conversation with Lee.

Seeing what he had raised mixed feelings. You were happy that he had found somebody of his own, that they seemed to love each other and work well together. That joy still couldn’t bury the tinge of envy sinking in, created from how it hurt to be reminded of what your family could have been had Rena simply been allowed to grow.

Scratching behind one of the dog’s ears, a tap landed on your shoulder and grey fingers came into view. They held a glass out to you, filled with clear liquid.

“For you, darlin’.”

The undertone of his words were not lost on you – avoid drinking tonight. Let me take care of you.

“Would you like some stew?”

The welcoming voice of Evelyn sounded from the dining table, a bowl and ladle in her hands. You accepted her offer, watching her gold wedding band glint in the light as you approached her. Their dog followed just behind, its nose occasionally bumping into the back of your leg.

The stew was warm in your hands, making a soft thud against the counter as you sat beside Boothill. A savory broth coated your tongue, the heat of a home-cooked meal comforting amidst the chilly desert night. Conversation flowed easily between all of you, as if you were playing back at the saloon years ago. It wasn’t until there were scraps in bowls and empty glasses covering the table that it took a more serious turn.

Evelyn dismissed their children, Emmett and Mable, from the table. Begrudgingly they went to the living area, playing with the dog and continuing to build their pyramid.

"What happened, 'Hill?" Lee questioned lowly.

You placed your hand along the back of Boothill's neck, meeting his somber gaze. “Let’s talk about it.”

He sighed, his eyes leaving yours and looking at the couple on the opposite side of the table. "Just eight or nine months ago we found a baby up in Iris Creek. We took her in as our own, raising her at that ranch I was tellin’ you about in Iron Springs.” He paused a moment, and you brushed your thumb against his nape, your focus remaining on the wood floor. “About… About three weeks ago the NHA came knockin'. They killed her right in front of them." His gaze turned to you momentarily. "I arrived shortly after."

"I'm so incredibly sorry to hear that." Evelyn spoke gently, placing her hands over one of yours and Boothill's. "I won't pretend to know that pain, but we're here if you need anything."

Lee reciprocated her action, a grit in his voice that was vastly different from hers. "Those cruel bastards will get their judgment day." He exhaled after a glance from his wife, solemnly looking at you, then at Boothill. "She's right, though. A room, food, company, whatever you need. There'll always be a warm fire ready here for you."

—

Bidding farewell to the McHale’s was difficult. They wanted nothing more than to continue catching up, but the night was passing and grogginess collectively set in. Emmett and Mable shouted their goodbyes from the porch, accompanied by the waves of Evelyn and Lee. You returned their gestures, slowly riding off from their home. Boothill’s gaze turned to the stars after saying his own goodbyes, watching the sky as he shifted back and forth. There was much to ponder after that visit, especially for him. The two of you hadn’t talked much in the past few hours, occupied by your own worlds and memories of the past.

Life had been fulfilling thus far, though one world-altering regret weighed heavily on that idea. A certain finality came with it, a need for eventual acceptance lest you meet that finality yourself. In time you would arrive there, but for now it was best to let the pain run its course – feel it and share in it. Boothill had no expectation of you than to simply be there for him as he is for you. Rena had two parents, and lived the best, most beautiful life you could provide for her.

There was one thing you had learned about death -- all that it claimed were eternally benevolent, either in life or the hereafter. If your parents, or Boothill's fathers were here right now, made of flesh and blood, they would want the best for you. For you to live another day and find your place in this wide and bittersweet world. They strived the same as you, to give their child the life they deserved. Perhaps Jasper's notions in the face of death's door were correct. Family would reunite, free of burdens and earthly matters. Spirits would live on in bliss, their memory preserved by each generation.

When you picture all that you've lost, you see a beautiful ranch -- just like the one you worked in Iron Springs. There would be a grand tree, housing Boothill's fathers and little Rena giggling and tugging on one's hair just like she would with you. Your parents would exit a cabin with various drinks and a bowl of apples, stopping to share one with a horse on their way to the meeting spot. Maybe even the Weston's were there, Isaiah smiling from a rocking chair on the porch. Callie would be happy, free of sickly features and whistling a tune. Ellis, cleaning his guns right beside his father. And Jasper would walk from the door, giving each of them a hug before running over to your parents and helping them carry their goods.

If the day ever came, when you would face that reaper with your boots on, that was the life you craved to return to. One where you could drink, laugh, and settle things with your large family -- everyone you ever held dear gathered 'round to celebrate the day. You would wait for Boothill, the inevitable fact being that he would outlive you. It was an idea accepted long ago. Confronting reality was necessary for the life you lead.

Yet that was the other thing about death -- love surpasses it. No matter what kind that love was, it would dance across the edge into the realm of departure. While it may alter itself, those living would still hold its fondness.

If the day ever came that Boothill joined you, either as he is now or as Jesse Blackwell, you would greet him with arms wide open. That very same love remaining with the dead, living in their own peaceful way at your little ranch.

"What's on your mind, darlin'?" he whispered, gazing at you now, instead of the night sky.

"You, and our dreams." you replied with a small smile.

“How romantic of you.” he chuckled, a contrasting and heavy look in his eyes.

Silence rode along between you for a moment until you spoke up, “Where do we go from here?”

He exhaled, a defeated yet promising sound. “Let’s just start with our hotel room. Take it one day at a time from there.”

[rellsingsovern]

There’s no grounds, Jawbone!

On Wednesday afternoon, three days before spring break, The Bad Kids receive their late report cards and open them together. That Friday, they are marched through a door, expecting to die.

The POV of various parents and teachers of The Bad Kids, during the days leading up to the Last Standard Exam.

Chapter 2: Denial (read chapter one on ao3 at rellsingsovern!)

Riz came home exactly when he said he would, which immediately tipped Sklonda off to the fact that something was amiss.

It was late for the town of Elmville, which meant that her night was just getting started. Who says 9:52 pm on a Wednesday night can't be the perfect time to start reviewing her court footage? She’s 20 seconds into the video and three minutes into hitting the refresh button over and over again (curse the Strongtower wifi) when the sound of a motorcycle grumbling up to the building down below blended into the whine of the single fluorescent bulb up in the ceiling of the living room (curse the Strongtower electricity). Her ear flicked of its own accord a few minutes later, registering no footsteps approaching, as to be expected of her rouge son, but picking up the rustling of papers coming from the hallway through the thin walls.

She frowned absentmindedly. Ever since her and Riz had had that talk in November she’d done her best to pay more attention to his habits and tendencies regarding his fucking insane schedule. Much like one of his boards, he kept all his belongings in an ordered chaos she doubted even Pok would have been able to wrap his head around. Sticky notes on papers, papers in folders, folders in binders, highlighters and rubber bands and paper clips in every color made their way from his backpack to his briefcase to his backpack again, leaving Riz his hands free, an intentional move on his part. Wouldn’t be a very good rouge if I couldn’t draw my gun because I’ve got someone’s homework in my hands, he’d quipped to her early in the year, before the bags under his eyes became darker than a bruise and his eyes twitched as much as they blinked, before Fabian started throwing parties Riz for some reason still went to and before Kristen roped him into-

The sound of a pin in the lock snapped her out of her own head and back into her apartment. The part of her that was Sklonda Gukgak: Mom of Riz noticed Riz stumbled through the door lacking his usual grace, most likely due to the backpack that had been progressively more and stuffed full of school supplies ever since Falinell (it made her wonder why he didn’t open his briefcase as often anymore). The part of her that was still Chief Detective Sklonda Gukgak of the Elmville Police Department noticed that in Riz’s hands were his lockpick that he used to enter the apartment and a pile of envelopes and coupon papers that was certainly their mail, bills and coupons and more bills and a dark red envelope with the official stamp of Aguefort Adventuring Academy on it.

And more bills. Great.

Her ear flicked again, and she absent-mindedly thumbed the arrow keys on her crystal laptop, the ones she knew didn’t work anymore, taking in her teenage son who was home before 10 for the first time in a while. “Hey sweetie,” she greeted, eyeing the papers in his hands. She always got the mail, on account of Riz just straight up Misty Stepping into the apartment in a rush between school and his office and school again. “I’m glad to see you, you hungry or anything?”

Riz stepped through the door, closing it behind him, looking down through the lenses of his glasses. “I’m fine, thanks mom. Jawbone ordered Bastion Market.”

She hummed, thinking of the two most recent text messages in her crystal.

3:06 pm

hi mom just finished yearbook club heading to mordred then stand-up night then home around 10 getting rides from fabian love you

4:48 pm

Hey Sklonda Jawbone here, Riz mentioned something about an event he was supposed to attend tonight but he’s decided to stay here for dinner instead, perfectly all right with myself Sandy and Lydia but just wanted to update ya in case you go looking. He’s not taking the grading news too well. I’m sure he’s told you about it but just a heads up. Working on a solution for the kids in the morning, yall hang tight 👍

Riz had, in fact, not told her about ‘it’ yet. Sklonda had had half a mind to call Sandra-lynn to see what Jawbone had meant, but decided to wait until Riz got home, although she had expected to see him way later, if not the next morning. She eyed the red envelope he still held in between his fingers, flicking the lockpick with a small thwack thwack thwack on the seal and wondered if that was ‘it’.

“Thanks for getting the mail, kiddo.” She knows he knows what she’s actually saying. You never get the mail, that’s my job, you’re home early, what are you doing?

What’s wrong?

He shrugged his seemingly 50 pound backpack off his 90 pound body, putting it on the floor but not taking his eyes off it. “Just thought I’d get it on the way up.” His voice says, steady and even-toned.

Former Chief Detective Sklonda Gukgak sees his body language say please don’t question me further.

Hah, Mom Sklonda Gukgak thought to herself. Not a chance in hell.

“Y’know,” she said, closing her laptop and pretending not to notice the way her son’s shoulders rose to his ears immediately. “Whenever you give me a time you’ll be home by, you’re never actually home at that time. And I know you’re very capable, Riz, but I worry about you.”

He muttered something under his breath, holding out the stack of bills to her, holding that damn envelope in his other hand, still not making eye contact.

Riz was a perfect rouge. He had a light step and a light touch and an impeccable aim. He had a brain that ran a million miles per hour and a goblin grit he inherited from his father. He’d been picking the lock to the apartment since he was twelve and learning to shoot a gun since he was thirteen. He was smart, sneaky and secretive.

But he didn’t keep secrets from her.

After Pok died, Sklonda had tried to keep many things from Riz. How scared she was. How exhausted she was. She would throw herself into work then throw herself into bed, crying with her face in Pok’s pillow as the signs of him faded from their life, as silent as she could so Riz wouldn’t hear. His desk became dusty, his razor sat unused, and his pillow stopped smelling like his cologne. She ran and ran and ran from the pain, never thinking about it, closing the door to his office where the ghost of her husband sat until Riz had tried to leave for school one day in shoes too big for him and a briefcase that hadn’t left the apartment in weeks.

At her protests, her nine-year old son had looked at her through his shaggy hair with big, sad, golden eyes. Pok had always been the one who gave Riz haircuts.

You never talk about him anymore, he said. You pretend you aren’t tired all the time and you pretend he’s not gone.

It hurts, mom.

Her beautiful, brilliant, investigative son had deduced what she wouldn’t, what she couldn’t tell him. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts.

It’s okay if it hurts. I’m still here.

She didn’t open the door to Pok’s room, and she didn’t let Riz go to school with his shoes. But from that day on Riz toted a briefcase everywhere, and on his tenth birthday she gave him a haircut, his own pair of brown loafers (still a little too big, but at the thrift store you take what you can get) and took him to Cravencroft where she whispered all her deepest fears, laid them down on the dirt under her son’s knees and in front of her husband’s grave, confessed to the bone-deep exhaustion that weighed down her arms and her legs and her heart.

Gukgaks don’t give up, Riz whispered back to her, golden eyes shining like suns, an echo of his father’s favorite phrase. She looked at his close-cropped hair and saw Pok. Then she looked at the bags under his eyes and saw herself.

After that Sklonda only had one secret to keep, and Riz had walked into Pok’s room and blew the dust off his desk two years ago in a mighty whirlwind of a 15 year-old detective hot on the case. With the blood of a dragon still hot in her stomach, she and Riz had promised to never hide anything from each other. Not their stress, not their exhaustion, and not their thoughts. Never again did she try to hide her tiredness from Riz, allowing him to replace her cold cups of coffee and lead her to bed on the days when her feet felt like stone, and when he got too jittery and manic with a drive to solve whatever mystery he was currently on she pressed at him until he eventually spilled his guts and she could get him to call a friend for backup in getting him to sleep at least four hours a night. Riz had been raised to notice all he could and never back down, and she had been the one to do it. He had his adventuring party, and she had a new job and new friends, but it was still just the two of them at odds with a world not meant for goblins, two Gukgaks in a shitty apartment, one weighed down with something they wouldn’t confess to and the other who noticed looking up through golden eyes.

Sklonda held out her hand for the red envelope.

Riz, who told her everything, who called her in freshman year every time he discovered something or murdered someone, who as soon as he got back from his spring break quest told her about Pok, who told her about the Loams and the Spies Tongue curse and Fig’s (maybe) god, did not hand it over.

Not a chance in hell.

“I’ll be in my room,” Riz started, leaving his backpack by the sofa as he turned and started away.

“What’s in the envelope, Riz.” She said, pushing as much goblin mom into her voice as possible and knowing it worked when he froze in place. “I don’t like knowing there’s a secret you’re keeping from me.”

“It’s not important.”

“Of course it is.”

He laughed under his breath, still turned away from her. “No, I mean like, it’s really not important anymore. Nothing in there matters.”

“Riz…”

He laughed again, and something in her stomach, a liquid mix of hot worry irritation worry froze into something heavy and cold like dread as his laugh broke into a dry gasp, sharp and cutting. “It’s fine, mom, really.”

“I’m sure it’s not, whatever it is, but I’m sure it’s not that bad either. You can just tell me honey, you know I won’t ever be mad.”

Her words seemed to register and nudge him away from whatever he was spiraling towards, but she still felt her lungs tighten and the cold sharpen in the pit of her stomach. He turned to look at her fully, and she didn't flinch, would never shy away from her son, but his eyes were dull, darker than she’s ever seen, as dark as her own during those first few months of just her and Riz.

He handed her the envelope with shaky hands and in the blink of an eye was suddenly sitting down on the other side of the couch, pressing himself into the flat cushions like they could swallow him whole.

She opened the envelope with no small amount of trepidation, wondering what could be so bad that her son came home at a reasonable time at night.

Reaching inside, Sklonda pulled out two pieces of paper, one significantly bigger than the other. Looking at the smaller one first, her heart at first fell and the soared with pride as she beheld a small slip of paper detailing that her son had earned an A+ in his rouge track during his most recent semester. Student shows signs of mastery at mundane and arcane lockpicking. Student shows signs of mastery at detecting/disarming mundane and arcane traps. Student shows signs of mastery at dealing damage with both short and long range weaponry. Student shows signs of mastery at remaining unseen by others.

The list went on, and she turned to Riz with elation. “This is amazing, Riz!”

He looked at her out of the corner of his eye, sinking further into the cushions. “Read the other one before I vomit again, mom.”

She flicked open the larger paper with confusion, starting to read, and with every word the ice in her stomach turned back into red hot anger.

Dear parent/guardian,

Your child, Riz Gukgak, has been moved to PASS/FAIL academic status at the Aguefort Adventuring Academy due to FAILURE/EXPULSION of party member Kristin Applebees. PASS/FAIL academic status will nullify any and all extra credit earned from extracurriculars including athletic teams, school-sponsored clubs, and volunteer work in compliance with the Aguefort Adventuring Academy. Your child will be allowed to remain at the Aguefort Adventuring Academy for the duration of their current school year. They must attend graduation and complete their teacher evaluation(s) in order to be accepted back into the Aguefort Adventuring Academy the upcoming year. If your child is a part of any multiclass program they will not be accepted back into their additional academic tracks and must remain only in their primary class the upcoming year. PASS/FAIL academic status cannot be removed or rectified from a student’s academic transcript with exception of the undergoing and completion of The Last Standard Examination. Please contact guidance counselor Jawbone O’Shaughnessy with questions, comments, or concerns.

Regards,

Interim Vice Principal Jace Stardiamond

Failure. Expulsion.

Kristen Applebees.

“-and I don’t even remember if we’re eligible to take The Last Stand this early in the year or if we have to wait until the last semester, but Kristin will be forced to leave this Friday, so if we can’t take it, I don’t know what we’ll do, Fabian, Gorgug, and Fig will be screwed next year and-“

Her blood was boiling, her ears were ringing, drowning out Riz’s voice.

Failure. Expulsion. Campaign manager. Someone else’s homework. People who call him The Ball.

Kristin Applebees.

“-hates her, and I don’t understand why, it’s just not fair-“

“It’s not fair,” Sklonda hissed out, a mirror of Riz’s, her snarl cutting through the air and making the words die on her son’s tongue. Forcing her hands to be still, pushing down the hot flash of rage in her belly, she schooled herself into the professionalism of Public Defender Sklonda Gukgak. Her son needed the cool head and steady tone that she prided herself on, her analytical eye and her forthrightness.

She could fret later. Her son had been blindsided by something she really should have seen coming ever since November, and it was time to address it.

She continued, voice low, watching her son’s posture relax bit by bit. “It’s not fair. Thank you for showing me, baby. We’ll figure it out, I promise.”

Riz turned to face her fully on the couch, knee nudging hers, and the hotness of worry irritation worry surged behind her eyes for half a second as she noticed a vein on Riz’s forehead that had never been there before. “You’re not mad?”

“No, kiddo, not at you. Never at you.”

“But…” He worried the chain of one of his necklaces between his teeth, a nervous trait he told her he’d picked up over the summer. He had sat up out of the cushions, but his knees were still drawn up uncomfortably, pressing his arms into his chest. “Without the pension, and without the extracurriculars… the scholarships-”

Stress was a thing Sklonda was familiar with. It lived in her apartment walls, on the underside of the peeling wallpaper. It filled the rooms in the flickers of darkness when the lights stopped working. It sat in the bottom of her coffee cups, and she’d admit that she found herself chasing it like her son chased clues, with a lot of intensity and only a little self-awareness. She knows her son too well, just like his mother and father in all the best and worst ways. Riz had too much in common with her, too many bad habits, and she’d sooner go back to her old job than ever let her son send himself more into the same stress-filled state she lived in for his party members.

“It’s not your fault,” she said, shuffling closer and putting an arm around Riz’s shoulders, wincing when she felt they were far too tight. Something in her quietly cooed when he laid his head down on her shoulder, glasses being knocked askew, strands of green hair falling and tickling her chin. “I’m not mad at you. I know how hard you’ve worked this year, and I’m so sorry Kristin messed it up for you.”

The shifting of chains between sharp fangs stopped. “...What?”

She rubbed his shoulder, keeping her voice low and soothing. “You’ve been doing far too much for her since the beginning of the year, Riz, it was really a matter of time before-”

“Mom, stop!”

Worry irritation worry confusion dread pooled in her gut as Riz shoved himself off her side and stood up off the couch furiously. “You can’t say that about Kristin, mom, how could you?”

She blinked hard. “What do you mean, how could- she got expelled, Riz, I know she and Fig aren’t academically inclined but c’mon, at least Fig is actually trying.”

“And what makes you think Kristin ‘isn’t trying’?” Riz scoffed, claws making quotes in the air with a harshness that rivaled when he tore into Kalvaxus two years ago. “She tries harder than the rest of us combined, she works so hard-”

“At what, Riz? Her campaign? The one that you run for her?”

“You don't get to talk about Kristin like that!”

This is exactly the opposite of what she wanted to happen. She wanted to hug her son and tell him it would all be alright while texting Sandra-lynn and Jawbone about what the heck The Last Standard Examination was and how Riz could take it. She could count on her fingers the amount of times conversations with Riz had turned to shouting, and even then they were always family matters, never about his party.

Sklonda loved Kristin, she really did. From the back half of freshman year until spring break of sophomore year Kristin spent a lot of time in Strongtower, rotating between the Faeth house and Gilear’s place down the hall before he moved out, wherever Fig was staying that week. Then it was down a few floors in Jawbone’s; sometimes she could still hear the shrieks of laughter echoing up through the thin floors as a gaggle of 15 year old adventurers ran through the halls far later than they were supposed to (not that she ever had the heart to tell Riz to keep it down when he hung out with his friends). Riz was a quiet kid before he went to Aguefort; Sklonda got the idea that Kristin had never been so. She always said what was on her mind, even if it was exceedingly inappropriate (she’s heard enough stories from Sandra-Lynn about her and Tracker during spring break). Always loud, always chaotic, a girl who jumped from idea to idea like she jumped from home to home.

That was a little cruel of her to think, Sklonda had been the one to order the raid on her house, after all.

Kristin had gotten a little quieter after spring break, Even Sklonda, whose building was no longer the Bad Kid’s default hangout spot, could see that. But she had also gotten a lot more chaotic.

“Kristin’s a good kid,” She said slowly, frowning when Riz shoved his hands under his glasses. “But you have to admit she struggles to stay on track sometimes.”

Riz glared at her through his fingers. “Doesn’t give you the right to insult her.”

“I’m not insulting her! It’s just the facts, sweetie, I know she’d never do anything to hurt you on purpose. But-” She waved the paper towards him, and he flinched away as though she were brandishing a gun. “-there’s two names on this paper, one being my son who joined every single extracurricular at the school and one being a girl who’s name my former coworkers apparently know due to several dropped charges of trespassing at the steelworkers factory?”

“You know I’ve probably got stuff on me too, mom, my midterm in December was to break into a warehouse downtown and plant a non-lethal arcane grenade set to go off when discovered.”

She remembered. It hadn’t gone off until February. He’d gotten an A+.

“That’s different, and not the point. Yours was an assignment for school, and Kristin’s apparently not been doing hers.”

“She’s got reasons to struggle, her god died, mom, I was there-“

“She can still cast, can’t she? You do everything for her, why can’t she at least maintain a C?”

“Oh my-” Riz dragged his hands down his face, muffling his next words. “You don’t understand-”

“Riz, I just worry that-”

“It’s not Kristin’s fault!”

“Then who’s is it?”

“I’m trying to explain-”

“Riz, don’t make excuses for her, she brought this on her-”

A sound filled the room, a short, sudden thing that sliced through the air. Riz’s eyes went wide, claws half curled at his side, and she realized the sound had just come from him.

Pressing his lips together as though he could stop the violent hiss that just came out of his mouth, Riz turned away and fled down the hall to his room, leaving his backpack and briefcase and a burning sensation behind Sklonda’s eyes that she couldn’t tell was rage or tears.

Another swing and a miss from Sklonda Gukgak about her poor, poor, boy.

A light flashed at the corner of her vision, startling her enough that her eyes were pulled away from the corner Riz disappeared behind. It was coming from within the couch cushions, and she reached in to pull out a blinking crystal.

10:02 pm

u alive the ball? kristin and I are still out here i wont leave until you respond

10:03 pm

i know u dont want to but if u told ur mom shed understand im sure of it

10:08 pm

we’re still herwogoTAKD2739/@(

10:08 pm

ITS KRISTIN I STOLE FABIANF S CRYSTL TMRW MORNIGN FIRST THIGN BOBBY DAWNS OFFICS I HAVW AN IDEA

10:09 pm

I L OVE OYU MAN THat assholes gonna pay for failing me on a fuckin technicality

What?

The blood rushing in her ears drowned out the incessant drone of the fluorescent light, but straining her hearing she realized that several floors down there was still the rumbling of a motorcycle.

Someone else’s homework. People who call him The Ball. Campaign manager.

Kristin Applebees had dropped Riz off from her own house, had stayed with Fabian and refused to leave until he texted them back, and here Sklonda was blaming her and probing at her son until he hissed and ran from her.

All sensation left from her, and numbly she got off the couch and started toward Riz’s room, crystal in hand. Stopping outside the closed door, Sklonda didn’t bother to knock. She knew he knew she was there.

The door didn’t open.

I don't understand, I don't have all the facts, I don’t know what’s going on, please tell me, she wanted to yell at the door like making more noise would save her from her mistakes.

“You left your crystal on the couch.” She murmured softly instead.

A pause. More rustling of papers, and when Riz opened the door he was holding his glasses in one hand and what looked like a map in the other, eyes dark. She held the crystal out.

He took it gingerly, and the numbness faded by just a little bit when his eyes got a little brighter, flicking over the crystal screen. He didn’t smile, but his face lost a little bit of tension.

He bit his lip and looked at her. “… I’m sorry I hissed at you. I didn’t mean to.”

She tried to smile, but wasn’t sure she succeeded. “I’m sorry I didn’t let you explain, sweetie. I’m all ears.”

He glanced at his crystal again, something changing in his posture. For a moment she was afraid he would close the door again, and even though she wanted nothing more in the world than to demand answers, she would let him.

“I don’t think I want to talk about it anymore tonight.” He said slowly, cautiously.

Sklonda nodded, thinking desperately about asking Sandra-Lynn out for drinks tomorrow.

“I just…” Riz looked down at the map in his hand, the words Ashgrove Cemetery scrawled in his handwriting at the top. “We’ve all worked so hard, Fig and Kristin and everyone, and-”

He swallowed. “I was gonna find the rouge teacher, mom. And now it doesn't matter.”

She could think of a million things to say, but all that came out of her mouth was, “Gukgaks don't give up.”

Her brave, smart, resilient, beautiful son’s eyes filled with tears, and he shut the door to his bedroom.

Stumbling back to the living room, Sklonda clumsily grabbed her crystal from the coffee table and sent a text, claws clicking against the screen.

10:13 pm

Jawbone, Riz just got home. What is The Last Stand?

The rumbling of the motorcycle faded from earshot. A few minutes later, her crystal lit up.

That oh so familiar heaviness of exhaustion and fear, the stress that lived in the bottom of her coffee cups, in the papers spilling out of Riz’s backpack hit her like a truck as she read Jawbone's response.

The lights flickered, and in the flash of darkness she saw a vision of her son, slumped over a desk, a paper in front of him with a dark red A+ written in goblin blood.

[klonnieshippersclub]

Love Awaits

Happy New Year! This is my post for Day 3. Yes, I know it's a bit late and I'm very sorry for that. It's also not set in 1910 but in Marcel's youth. We have a bit of a "found family" coming together in this AU. This is a little longer than usual to make up for the delay.

Randall was her responsibility. It was only a few years ago he was kicked out of their home. Randall was a Bennett and the Bennetts valued family but Randall was a boy and he didn't quite fit. Bonnie took on the responsibility of caring for him and abandoned the only home she knew. He was only a small child, but their bastard father saw Randall as useless. It was early in the year when they had lost their mother from magical overload in defeating a pack of rogue wolves that were terrorizing a nearby town.  Grief turned their father cruel. Bonnie and Randall left their small town Louisiana for the city. She was essentially a single mother at just fifteen with a five year old to take care of. It was hard but they made it work.

Years passed and they were happy. All they had was each other but that was enough. Randall even referred to Bonnie as his mother. At the age of 10, Randall found a slightly older boy unconscious by a pond. With his magic, he was able to send a message to his older sister. Luckily, she was not too far away and could provide medical aid to the unnamed boy with the knowledge she had from working as a nurse. Upon waking, the boy introduced himself as Marcel. Despite Marcel's insistence that he could walk home on the other side of the city, Bonnie and Randall brought him to their small home.

Hours passed and the boys lost time playing games (nothing too strenuous in consideration for Marcel's condition). Bonnie was making dinner when a belligerent knocking started at their door. When seeing the vampire snarling at her, Bonnie immediately sent him an aneurysm with her powers. She only stopped at Marcel crying out that this was his father. A vampire daddy was unheard of, but Bonnie believed the boy. With Marcel explaining the situation to his father (he was jumped by a rival to his father), the tension in the room disappeared. Bonnie made the sudden decision to invite the vampire inside if he provided his name. Klaus Mikaelson. From this point on, the families were close and the boys were basically inseparable.

It was a summer morning months later when Marcel dragged his father to the Bennett home. Klaus entered ready to greet Bonnie and Randall ran by with only one shoe to play outside with Marcel. Klaus called out to him, “Randall, get back here. You can't run off without your other shoe.”

The boy ran back inside the house to retrieve the shoe with Marcel following him. “I've been looking for it everywhere,” Randall said. Thanks, Pa.”

Bonnie appeared from the kitchen hearing their exchange with her hands on her hips. She voiced her confusion towards Randall. “Pa? He's not your father.”

“But Marcel said-”

“Shhhh,” interrupted Marcel while glaring at the younger boy.

Klaus raised a brow at his son and asked, “Marcellus, what did you tell him?”

“I only said it would be nice if we were a family.”

Randall continued, “And he said that mothers and fathers belong together.”

“Quiet!”

Bonnie could sense one of their childish arguments brewing. The arguments were never over anything serious but they tended to work out their problems physically and she didn't want them wrestling in the house. The last time they did so, they broke a vase of flowers. “Boys, we aren't together,” the Bennett witch remarked.

Marcel rolled his eyes at Bonnie's denial. “Are you sure?” he asked.

“Of course.”

“Then why is Pa so nice to you when he's mean to all the other ladies in covens?” Randall wondered aloud.

“He's not your Pa, Randall,” corrected his older sister/maternal figure.

Klaus and Bonnie were close but it wasn’t a relationship. “I respect Bonnie more than the arrogant witches of the city,” the Original justified.

Marcel joined in the questioning, “if you aren't together, why do you two always spend time together?”

Bonnie was surprised by the sudden interrogation and felt a bit defensive. The boys were together like glue. It shouldn't be so shocking that their guardians knew each other well. “We don't spend that much time together alone. You both are always with us.”

Randall was tired of their ridiculous excuses when he knew the truth. “Why did I see Klaus laying in bed with you?” he accused. “You were kissing!”

“Randall, what have I told you about spying?”

Instead of listening to the lecture he knew was coming, Randall took off with both shoes on his feet at lightning speed. He did not want to deal with his sister's wrath at him for violating her privacy. It didn't seem like a big deal to him anyway. He left immediately when he saw their lips touch. Marcel laughed as he went to catch Randall.

Klaus couldn’t help but to observe Bonnie and admire her beauty, even in her anger. “They think we’re in love,” Klaus said with a laugh.

Bonnie sighed, “it sounds silly and imaginative.” As much as her body desired his touch, they couldn't ever be romantically involved.

“We couldn’t ever be in love.” Feelings would complicate things. It would be a mistake for them to create a family together. Mortality would always separate them. As witches, they could never find happiness as vampires. Marcel could choose to turn when he got older, but Klaus could not expect that of Bonnie and Randall. “That’s a boundary that shouldn’t be crossed.”