#i expected a lighter blue but this looks good

[feliciasharpclaws]

✯ 𝑶𝑵𝑬𝑺𝑯𝑶𝑻 | l. know/minho

pairing: drift king lee know! x han lue's younger sister oc!

warnings (not really): slight suggestive scenes, curse words, street racing, drifting, bad grammar (i think).

a/n: oc's name is shego lue and she's a racer too, is mentioned that minho is half japanese and a sukeban's son, han's referred as hannie by shego, han likes to call shego, go-go.

btw lino's header credits to @hyunminsunger

During the time Han had became business partners with DK and started going to the car meetings, he never expected to see his baby sister Shego being whispered on her ear and tightly hugged on the waist by Hirai Yuka's son, Lee Minho on a dim corner of the parking lot after winning a purple 1994 Toyota Supra MK IV. Yes, he was aware that his sister was in Japan, after all he had seen her leaving Sean's school with Lee one day on a blue 1996 Nissan Skyline GT-R R33.

The truth was that Han never expected Shego to be that close with Lee Minho or DK Lee Know as people in Minato called him, he knew that his mother Hirai Yuka used to be a sukeban on her teenage years to later get married with a korean financial advisor. So why they were secretly clingy towards eachother only made him more curious, with slow movements he stopped leaning on his car and carefully approached the young adults in the corner.

Lee's back now was facing to him, his right hand was set on the concrete wall and his dominant hand was covering Shegos's cheek and part of her jaw, the sound of slow making out filled Han's ears making him clear his throat and the younger's to separate.

“It's nice to see that you haven't lost your touch Go-Go” Han's usual lazy tone filled Shegos and Minho's ears. Slowly her left hand slipped out of her boy's neck while the other one patted his chest to come out of the darkness.

“And it's nice to finally see you Hannie” Shego's silky voice reached his ears making him smile softly. “I thought I had to go to your garage for you."

Han chuckled, his gaze flicking between Shego and Minho. "You know where to find me, little sister. But it seems like you've found some other... distractions here in Tokyo."

Minho stepped forward, his stance protective yet respectful. "Han, I didn't expected to see you here tonight." His voice was calm, but there was an underlying tension, unsure of how Han would react to the situation.

Shego rolled her eyes playfully, trying to ease the tension. "Come on, Hannie, you knew I'd make friends here. Minho's been showing me around since I arrived. He's actually quite the gentleman when he's not racing."

Han raised a corner of his lips, his curiosity piqued. "And here I thought you'd stick to your books, Go-Go. Isn't that why you were sent here?."

Shego smirked. "There's more to life than just books, Han. Besides, Minho here has been teaching me a few more things about cars. Turns out, I do have a knack for it."

Minho nodded, adding, "She's a quick learner. Not only that, she's really got some natural talent behind the wheel."

Han looked at the purple Supra, then back at the duo. "I know, I taught her how to drive. Speaking of talent, whose car is this?"

"Mine," Minho answered with a hint of pride. "Won it tonight. Thought it might look good next to my GT-R."

Han walked over to the car, running his hand along the smooth bodywork. "Nice choice. Seems like you've both joined forces on car racing, huh?" Suggestion slipped in his voice

Shego stepped closer to Han, her voice softening. "Don't worry. I'm safe here. Minho takes care of me, you know I'm learning, growing."

Han gave a slow nod, understanding the unspoken message. "Just make sure you keep your head in the game. Both of you." His eyes met Minho's, a silent agreement passing between them.

Minho nodded, acknowledging the responsibility. "I will, Han. You have my word."

The tension eased as Han leaned back against his car with a lighter vibe. "Well then, I guess we should celebrate your new ride, Minho. And Shego, you owe me a race to see what you've learned.

Shego laughed, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Challenge accepted, Hannie. But let's make it interesting. If we win would you let Minho officially date me?"

Han smirked. "Sure, why not. You're on, Go-Go. But don't think I'll go easy on you just because you're my sister."

The air was thick with anticipation as Han, Shego, and Minho prepared for the race. The makeshift track was the old runway at Haneda, long and straight with a few sharp turns that would test their skill and strategy.

The cars lined up, headlights piercing the night. Han’s black Evo IX sat sleek and menacing, its turbocharged engine purring with potential. Next to it, Minho's newly won purple Supra MK IV had a reputation for speed but was less known for its handling. Shego, now behind the wheel of the Supra, felt the power beneath her hands, her nerves tingling with excitement.

Han gave a nod to Shego, his eyes conveying both challenge and pride. "Remember, Go-Go, it's not just about speed. You've got to feel the road."

Shego smirked back, her confidence bolstered by her brother's words. "Don't worry, Hannie. I've been paying attention."

Minho, standing beside Shego, patted the hood of the car. "This baby's got some tricks up its sleeve. We'll show you."

A little crowd who had gathered around counted down, the tension palpable. "Three... Two... One... GO!"

Tires screeched as all three cars launched forward, the sound echoing across the empty runway.

Han took an early lead, his Evo's all-wheel drive giving him superior traction. He used this to his advantage, pulling a quick slingshot maneuver to get ahead. His driving was smooth, each shift and drift a calculated move.

Shego, however, wasn't far behind. She leaned into the first turn, feeling the car's weight transfer. Minho had shown her how to use the Supra's weight distribution to her advantage, teaching her to initiate a drift by slightly letting off the throttle at the apex of the turn, then counter-steering to control the slide. She executed this perfectly, the car's taillights forming a wide arc of light as she kept the momentum going, closing in on Han.

Minho's voice was heard from the passenger seat, calm and instructional. "Use the handbrake for a tighter turn. It'll unsettle the rear, but we can control it."

Shego nodded, as they approached a sharper bend, she gently pulled the handbrake, feeling the back end begin to slide. She counter-steered, her hands dancing over the wheel, keeping the car's nose pointed where she wanted it to go. The technique shaved off precious seconds, allowing her to nip at Han's heels.

Han chuckled over a little radio Minho had given him, "Nice move, Go-Go. But let's see you handle this."

He feigned a wide drift into the next turn, making it look like he was losing control. Shego, expecting an opening, committed to overtaking on the inside. But at the last second, Han tightened his line, his car's turbo kicking in, propelling him forward with a burst of speed.

"Oldest trick in the book," Han muttered to himself, grinning.

Minho, anticipating Han's strategy, instructed Shego, "Draft off him! Use his slipstream."

Shego caught up, tucking in close behind Han's Evo. The aerodynamic pull helped her close the gap. As they approached the final stretch, where precision would count more than power, Minho's voice was calm, "Now, let's show him the Supra's real power. Shift down, then floor it at the exit of this turn."

Shego followed his advice, downshifting just before the turn, then as she powered out, she floored the accelerator. The turbo lag was minimal thanks to the car's tuning, and she felt the surge of power, the car rocketing forward.

The finish line was in sight, and it was neck and neck. Han, knowing he couldn't outrun the Supra on the straight, attempted to block Shego's path. But she was ready, braking later into the last corner, cutting inside with a precision that made her brother proud.

They crossed the line together, but the crowd's roar suggested Shego had edged out Han by a hair's breadth.

Pulling over, the engines quieted, and Han laughed, shaking his head as he got out of his car. "I guess I owe you more than dinner now, huh?"

Shego hopped out, her face alight with victory and adrenaline. "Looks like I've got myself a boyfriend, thanks to you, Hannie."

Minho joined them, his hand finding Shego's, a look of genuine pride in his eyes. "And you've got yourself one hell of a racer, Han."

Han looked at them, his smirk softening into a genuine smile. "Seems I do. But you won't win the next time Go-Go."

tags @bigbittysworld, @babygirl-liyah2, @instabull, @sugarp0p0, @urnanscuteoldgrippers, @omgjiminsjams, @ratprincessnr1, @flwrs4bin, @whoisclarie, @adidas6453, @lovelylittleliarxx, @leah-also-known-as-creator, @tojiwifeyy, @lovelygirlnat, @bluegrimm29, @krispypanda13 , @mysexy-anxiety, @poisonlacy, @artisticbrainrot, @sheeeeeesh-100, @lenasimp, @sagestarlight, @frilledjelly, @lillypika, @dreamerwasfound, @c0sm1n4, @kendihalindekiyaratik, @mal-lunar-28, @roninth3creator, @genevieve17, @666kpopfan, @cryingoverfelix, @moni25sworld, @jessicarq, @fic-for-readers, @bellarellasstuff, @missmajdastark, @kitkatdreamsmpmcyt, @deedee09, @iheart1nnieee, @ljwll, @ominous-shoelace, @cherrychopstixx, @chip-05, @carrot-cult, @squirls-world, @keto-keyes, @yukinachan59, @radfoxcollectorposts, @shanty-lol, @fefa-la-printcessa, @hollblauxxx, @anaviieiira, @appleschre, @hnnnne , @crispy-chris, @lucy-bunny17, @hapitanikamari1, @banana1245, @sueps-things, @thorne83, @bluelizze, @soul13home, @koing-slvt, @moonfulmoony, @why-am-i-hereeeeee, @duxkle

[alexturntable]

williamsracing New season, fresh threads 🧵 Our 2025 team kit has arrived.

[dulcescorderitas]

𝓳𝓾𝓶𝓹𝓼𝓬𝓪𝓻𝓮 D.Starkey

author's note: im going to stand by my man 🙂‍↕️

you stroll into the living room, heart thudding as drew turns to face you, his newly blonde hair catching the afternoon light. his eyebrows match the pale shade, and for a moment, you’re struck silent, eyes widening in a knee-jerk reaction that escapes your control.

“oh my god,” you blurt out before you can stop yourself, a cocktail of shock and disbelief lacing your words.

drew’s face falls slightly, a mixture of hurt and amusement flickering in his blue eyes. he tilts his head, those blond brows rising. “yeah, not what you were expecting?”

“i’m sorry!” you rush to say, stepping closer, trying to backtrack the offense. “i didn’t mean it like that. it’s just... different.”

his chuckle is light, but you catch the tinge of unease in it. “it’s for the role,” he explains, running a hand through his hair. “i thought you’d know.”

you bite your lip, guilt swelling. he looks like a goddamn angel—albeit a surprising one—and here you are, making him feel self-conscious. “it’s just... a surprise, that’s all. you still look good. i swear.”

drew crosses his arms, leaning against the back of the couch, clearly not convinced. the golden strands catch the light, framing his face in a halo-like glow. and those brows, lighter than usual, change his expression entirely. he looks ethereal. different, yes. but still breathtaking.

an idea flickers in your mind, bold and reparative. you step into his space, fingers brushing his, eyes locking onto his with a smirk that softens into something sultry. “let me make it up to you,” you murmur, voice dropping into a lower, more intimate register.

his brow furrows in curiosity, the defensiveness in his stance melting slightly. “make it up to me how?”

your hands trail up his chest, fingers tracing the planes of muscle beneath his shirt. “by showing you exactly how much i like it,” you purr, pressing a kiss to his jawline, your lips trailing toward his ear. “i want to taste every inch of you.”

his breath hitches at the suggestion, his hands moving to rest on your hips instinctively. “you sure about that?” he murmurs, his voice a shade darker now.

you nod, pulling him down to sit on the couch, positioning yourself between his knees. the grin you offer is wicked, eyes never leaving his as your fingers work the button of his jeans, slipping them down with a fluid ease. his cock, already stirring beneath the fabric of his boxers, presses against the confines, eager and ready.

as you free him, you take a moment to admire him, your lips parting slightly in anticipation. the sight of him, blond and beautifully flushed, fuels your desire. without a word, you lean in, your tongue flicking out to taste the head, savoring the salty bead of pre-cum there. his groan of approval sends a shiver through you, urging you on.

you take him in slowly, inch by tantalizing inch, the warmth of your mouth enveloping him. your tongue dances along the underside, swirling around the sensitive tip as you hollow your cheeks, creating a delicious suction. drew’s hand tangles in your hair, his hips lifting slightly as he seeks more of the bliss you’re offering.

his moans grow louder, his grip tightening as you take him deeper, your throat relaxing to accommodate him. the blonde strands framing his face are damp with sweat, his expression twisted in pleasure as you worship him with every flick of your tongue, every hungry suck. you want to see him undone, reduced to nothing but a quivering mess beneath your ministrations.

“fuck, you’re so good at this,” he breathes, voice strained with need. his hips thrust gently, meeting your rhythm as you take him even deeper, letting him feel the back of your throat.

the sound of your name on his lips, broken and gasping, pushes you further, your hands squeezing his thighs as you bob your head, creating a symphony of wet, filthy noises. drew’s body tenses, his moans reaching a fever pitch as he teeters on the edge of release.

“i’m gonna—” his words are cut off as he shudders, spilling hot and heavy down your throat. you swallow eagerly, savoring every drop, your eyes locked onto his as he rides out his orgasm, his body wracked with aftershocks.

when you finally pull back, you lick your lips, wiping away a stray bead with your thumb as you grin up at him. “blonde suits you,” you tease, your voice a husky whisper, filled with satisfaction.

drew’s laugh is breathless, his eyes shining with affection and residual pleasure. “you’re something else,” he mutters, pulling you up into his lap, capturing your lips in a searing kiss.

“just making it up to you,” you whisper against his mouth, already feeling the stirrings of something more beneath you, the promise of another round.

[phemiec]

A Mouthwashing (and How Fish is Made) fansong, unfortunately from Jimmy’s POV mostly, sorry. 🐴 Music and lyrics by me, PhemieC

NOTE: this is my first fansong in five years, and sad to say but my voice has been decimated by illness in the last few years, so please don’t go into this expecting it to sound the same as my old stuff.

That being said, I have released an instrumental version, and I would LOVE to hear covers from other vocalists! Feel free to post and sell if you make a cover as well. <3

LYRICS UNDER CUT

[verse 1] Momma bird sleeping and her nest is empty Pretty and clean I feel the crease of envy Cutting a line right through the sky above me Healthy and green just like a good tree should be Momma bird leaving now her eggs are lonely Out from the underbrush I creep so slowly I’ll lay my own, her home is sound and safe, he’s Grey like a stone among her round blue babies She’ll never tell if she’s a few shells lighter Quick cracking clever comes my little fighter  Babes that feel safer they hatch so much slower Thrown down below then by my own fast grower Momma returns to feed her only child he Smells like a stranger and he cries so loudly Drinks of his fill while I look up on proudly Picking away at the discarded bounty 

[chorus] What hides inside has the skill to thrive Do you have the will to decide to survive? A parasite needs you alive To feed their growing appetite 

[verse 2] Thing crawling thirsty, shared flesh, a blessing Drink of my stagnancy, the taste refreshing Carry a part of me and keep on climbing  Top of the ladder’s just a place for dying Dread in your gullet, ignore it, buddy Lead in the bullet, it’s harmless, mostly Let me consume you, let you defend me Curling protector, my friendly fresh meat Im in control now and I like the feeling I’ll play the role of every wound you’re healing Follow the leader was always my thing Swallow your pills and lay still, unwrithing Master of puppets is my one objective Real apex predators can be selective Relay your message, it won’t stop the spread if I replace your tongue when I open your head up

[chorus] What hides inside has the skill to thrive Do you have the will to decide to survive? A parasite keeps you alive To feed their growing appetite 

[verse 3] My stress relief, she keeps asking questions I can’t believe she thinks I’ll learn her lesson Nothing outside of me will ever get in No mocking birdie with an unblinking grin Four beating hooves, I hate to hear them thunder Trample the metal tomb I’m buried under braying beast, neighing in the womb inside her Breaking its legs to glue you back together

[chorus] What hides inside has the skill to thrive Do you have the will to decide to survive? A parasite needs you alive To feed their growing appetite…

[nagiseishirro]

— "would you still love me if i were a worm?"

with: nagi seishiro, mikage reo, itoshi rin.

warnings: can be read as unestablished or established relationship, ending can be interpreted as suggestive or fluff in nagi's, WHY IS SUBCONSCIENCE NOT A WORD, probably ooc reo & rin, gn!reader (no pronouns mentioned).

"bolded dialogue" = their dialogue.

"unbolded dialogue" = your dialogue.

SEISHIRO NAGI:

"sei," you hummed.

it's a hum nagi wouldn't mind drowning in—which is rare; he's usually on auto-deafen mode when in or near a crowd.

...scratch that, he's barely listening when it's just one person alone.

but you? he clings and hangs onto every syllable that strums out your vocal chords—your words don't even need to past your lips for them to be drilled deep into his subconscience.

"mm?" he responds back, pupils flicking between yours and his burning blue screen.

"would you still love me if i were a worm?" you casually let out, as if it didn't burn an arrow through his noggin.

"...(name), is this another one of those pranks where you record my answer and post it online?" as skeptical as he wanted to be, he gave in and answered your dumb (,but oddly adorable to him) question anyway. "yeah, i would." his eyes darted back to his phone, but he wasn't fixated on the screen anymore. "i'll let you catch a ride on my phone. then i can look at you and the game at the same time."

"can't you do that right now?" a feigned tease couldn't help but come out your mouth. "you're a bit too big to fit on my phone." nagi pouts.

"not too big for you though, right?"

REO MIKAGE:

"reo, would you still love me if i were a worm?"

"soil? manure? dead leaves? food scraps? vacuum dust and hair? you want it, you got it." reo stuck a tongue out, accompanying it with a solid wink.

...confused, you let out a "...what?", but you're not actually expecting a real answer. "i researched on that question in case you'd ask that." he bleps.

"whatever, it doesn't matter. i'm not turning into a worm any time soon." if anything, you're more deflated at your semi-failed attempt to confuse slash fluster reo—it was a total backfire. "what's manure anyway?"

"feces." you nearly choked on air. "for the record, i am not eating shit."

"eat shit. ;P"

ALTERNATE/BONUS ENDING:

"feces." you nearly choked on air. "for the record, i am not eating shit."

"you're right, 'cause 'm taking you out to dinner tonight! meet me at six, first hotel after the right turn, black lamborghini with the pink laces, dress in whatever—you look good in anything."

ITOSHI RIN:

"would you still love me if i was a worm?" you chirped directly into his ear.

he wasn't replying, perhaps he didn't hear you?

"would you still lo—" "i heard you the first time." rin groused quietly in a lighter level of monotony—the level it always came to when his presence was met with yours.

"great! so, would you still—"

"no." he simply answered, fiddling with the folds of his freshly tumble-dried uniform. "what!? why not?!" you fake whined, and rin knew all too well about your antics—that didn't stop him from falling in them, though.

"i'm not a worm. you wouldn't be out gardening and going, "wow, love at first sight" to a worm you spot crawling on your rake." and all you got from that was,

"...so, you'd love me if you were a worm?"

rin wanted to facepalm so hard at that cue—and he did, mentally. more so at the fact that his first thought was 'absolutely', instead of 'you're ridiculous', or 'hell no', or 'seriously?'' or—

"would you still love me if i were a wor—" "yeah, yeah. i would."

"see? that's all you had to say." you chimed, a smile plastered across your face stretching from ear to ear; whether it be a teasing smile, or just a genuinely happy one.

rin had to force himself to pry his face away from your field of view, since coercing his blush down was and never will be in the option list.

"also, its 'would you still love me if i were a worm'."

[kiss-me-muchoo]

𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐮𝐬 || 𝐄𝐧𝐳𝐨 𝐕𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐜 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲_ while working on the makeup effects for a production, you end up falling for el naco de Enzo Vogrincic (no te creas papi tkm). But you start avoiding him because it’s not correct to fall in love with that type of man.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬_ AGE GAP (legal), angst, fluff, spanglish fic, cringe, reader is in denial and speaks spanish, idk misunderstandings?, happy ending (irl Enzo nunca nos va a pelar)

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞_ I hate Spanglish but how can I keep both mi gente latino and my RAHHH🦅🇺🇸 people happy? With a Spanglish fic

♪ ♫ 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝟒 𝐄𝐧𝐳𝐨 𝐕𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐜 ✰𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐱

@kissmemucho on X

—————————————————————————

One day, you started hating going to work. It was half work, half practice for college. Still, you started hating it. From moving some months to Spain to work on the makeup team for a movie, to spending hours with each actor to do and make a record of their makeup.

That wasn’t the issue though. It was just that… there was a guy.

You had developed a crush for that man called Enzo. It was so cringe to admit. And it tore you apart because he was significantly older than you. He would never turn to look down at you. That was the most honest thing about the whole issue. And that you were even depriving yourself from befriending him.

But god, How couldn’t you?… there you got his pretty nose and deep eyes. His soft hair and perfect smile. The way he was so kind to everyone and to you. Soon you learned he was single too. It was so damn much that it made you so mad. He was perfect. Gorgeous in every sense.

And that’s exactly why you now hate going to work.

Sometimes the aura around the team seemed to be heavy due to the context of the movie. You had seen how every actor started to lose weight and prepare for the role. Which was a little tough and very demanding. The seriousness surrounding the production was only filed with respect. That didn’t stop anyone to have good moments and be happy. Everyone in the cast believed you were a burst of sunshine at least. Who seemed to make the hours spent seated on a chair with makeup and prosthetics being placed a little more fair.

“¡HEY!…GUAPA, VENÍ PA’ ACÁ!” You heard as soon as you entered the workplace. Once you spotted the little circle of men, you rolled your eyes and chuckled.

“¿Y ahora qué se te ofrece Juani?”

“Que confirmes si venís a cenar con todos” you looked at the others. Matías and the others were exchanging looks, with none other than Enzo. You don’t even look at the man, you can only focus on the boy with annoying but pretty blue eyes.

“Cómo jodes, chico. Ya veré si voy o no, tengo mucho que hacer” that was true, you had a lot to do. But mostly, it was because you believed you had nothing amazing to share with them.

“Podemos esperarte.” Enzo said, which immediately made your stomach flutter and your chest to get congested. He was wearing some t-shirt and those damn Adidas joggers he liked to repeat on a daily basis.

The fact that he suggested waiting for you to go out and have dinner should’ve made you blush, but it only made you nervous, increasing your eagerness to run away from the little circle of men.

“No pasa nada, váyanse ustedes. Que se la pasen bien…” and poor Enzo, he watched how you disappeared through the hallways with your big bag full of makeup and brushes.

“Ya va a caer…”

“Pero si ni me gusta” everyone started laughing. Enzo knew you were younger. He also knew you were from a little too far away from Uruguay, that you were bilingual, that you were passionate about writing and other arts, that your eyes were lighter than expected in the sun, that your hands were very soft and that you were so extroverted with everyone except with him.

“Sos idiota, si no te gustara no te hubieras quedado como mogólico viéndola irse”

“Pero es una niña…” he tried to reason.

“La veinteañera universitaria que trabaja aquí en producción y anda sola por la vida” everyone laughed again. You were certainly an adult. Yeah you still acquired trinkets that could pass for toys, you listened to silly music and watched Winx Club or Bratz movies. But you were a woman after all.

Which led to Enzo wondering if he could ever have a chance with you. You had seen a lot of people, with all the many times you had travelled to Los Angeles, the heart of Hollywood and everything, sometimes he doubted you could be interested in him.

But no… he definitely hadn’t caught an eye on you.

…

It was a Friday. A week from the day you rejected dinner with your workmates. Nothing serious happened after that. Juani made fun and exposed you with random tweets like a bully. He was laughing his ass off of you, so shameless and stupid. However, you on the other hand… were dying out of embarrassment. Especially after seeing how many people started following him. He received an army of girls starving for shitpost around the internet.

“Si no estuvieras por grabar una escena tan desgarradora y seria, te ahorcaba en este preciso momento, Juani '' you wanted to kill him. He had posted online two videos of you, while you were off guard. Two audios of you cursing in Spanish and saying how much you hated capitalism that were becoming viral. And he even made his own stickers of you to pass around the group chat of the cast.

“Eso te pasá por ¡RIDÍCULA!” The tone he used, extremely mocking you was enough to make you laugh along with him and caught the attention of everyone surrounding you two.

“Pues nunca te conseguiré el follow de los ex-One Direction” he stopped laughing, knowing you had made him remember his humbling twitter posts.

“¡Qué boluda… y pesada!”

“Okay, pinche ardido” one of the design team members from the movie appeared and handed you a little paper. It was the list of your schedule. Juani snatched it and opened it before you could even blink.

“UYYY… te tocá todo el día con Enzo” he started teasing you like a child. You rolled your eyes in annoyance.

“Pero la boluda y pesada soy yo”

“Pues si” you finally read the paper and yes… 3 hours with Enzo.

“Well… it could be something bad and it isn’t so…” you admitted sighing, accepting that you would spend three hours swallowing your pride and holding your pierced feelings.

“Dejáte querer…” you frowned confused at the boy beside you.

“What?” You asked laughing, but he only shrugged.

“Nothing, dear” once again, you rolled your eyes.

“De verdad eres medio insoportable” he batted his eyelashes, acting innocent. Deep down, both of you were actually friends.

“Te quiero” he responded, making you laugh once again.

“Si, yo también. Mi pendejito favorito”

“No, ese debe ser Enzo” this time, you blushed.

“Cómo chingas con meterlo en nuestras conversaciones. ¿Te gusta o qué?” He laughed, helping you out with your heavy bag full of brushes and capes and everything.

“No. ¿Y a vos? ¿Gustás de Enzo?” You remained quiet, pretending you hadn’t heard him.

You opened the door of the little room, surprised to see Enzo already there. So you grabbed the bag from Juani and started closing the door.

“Adiós, naco perdedor” and just like that, you closed the door on his face, giggling.

You sighed, closing your eyes, before staring at the plain door for some seconds.

“Hola…” you heard his deep and sweet voice. It was just… that you had to be a big girl and leave aside your foolishness for that grown ass man. He was just a crush… a simple mortal at the end as dramatic as it sounded.

“Hi…” you replied awkwardly. You had seen the following section of his instagram, the most pretty girls, very different from you. Which made you feel… like it was an auto-sabotage. But before you could start feeling depressed again, you decided to keep working, the only reason why you were in that room in the first place.

He would think you kinda disliked him. Every time you entered to work on his makeup, he would be smiling and trying to talk to you. And while you were polite and smiley too, you remained very quiet, always avoiding his eyes.

“¿Cómo estás?” He would ask, looking at you through the mirror in the room.

“Pues muy bien, gracias.” You would reply, turning to open the boxes with prosthetics and other special effects makeup. And he sighed, already feeling a little disappointed.

“¿Me permites tus manos?” You ask him as usual. He shows you the palm of his hands with another smile, which you reply quickly. Your heart started pounding as soon as you walked into the room.

“Perdón si estoy fría.” You admit with a blush, knowing the tips of your fingers were freezing.

“No pasá nada, linda” he had to be joking. He couldn’t call you “linda” just like that? However, you do your best to ignore it.

So you start making little lines of the paint samples you had taken. Until you noticed which one was identical to his skin color.

“Okay, I got it.” You speak to yourself, out loud though. Sometimes Enzo questioned if you weren’t fluid in Spanish, but he had heard you talk and talk with other people in Spanish. Your accent was so clean, so different to the rest of the crew.

“¿Te molesta si pongo música?” You ask him, grabbing your phone.

“No, para nada.”

“Nomás no me vayas a juzgar” you chuckle without looking at him, scrolling through your playlist.

It was the first time you attempted to joke with him. And he wouldn’t risk the opportunity.

“Jamás podría…” you only thank him before starting to play some music.

He was used to your touch now. You had small and soft hands compared to him. Every time you had to pick the right tone that matched his skin, brush his hair and work inches away from his face. It was insufferable for you. And to him… it only built more intrigue.

He listens to how you barely mumble some songs.

“¿Quién es ella?” He asks at the song playing.

“Nelly Furtado” you reply, concentrating on his hands, starting to draw the fake wounds. Promiscuous was a great song to feel empowered while trying to beat the feelings for the man who was extremely close to you and you had feelings for:

Some minutes passed and then Madonna came with Dress You Up and Enzo barely got it right. You sing very low and he tries to hear you with precision. Soon Madonna was over.

“¿Y esta?” You ask him when Gorgeous started.

That damn song was like a curse and blessing at that very moment.

You're so cool, it makes me hate you so much

(I hate you so much)

You've ruined my life, by not being mine

You're so gorgeous

I can’t say anything to your face

'Cause look at your face

And I'm so furious

At you for making me feel this way

That was you. That was how much you hated your feelings for him. Because he would never be yours.

And somehow, Enzo got the message. He wasn’t sure but he felt how you changed the way of singing and avoided his eyes.

“¿Y esa quién es?” He asked once again.

“Esa es Taylor Swift”

“No la conozco” you giggle, ignoring the song a little bit.

“¡Enzo, por Dios!. ¿En qué mundo vives?” You found it very hard to believe he didn’t know half of your musical taste.

“Pues en Uruguay…” for the first time, he makes you laugh and talks to you so fucking much that you have to stop spreading the fake dirt on his face.

You're gorgeous

You make me so happy, it turns back to sad

There's nothing I hate more than what I can't have

You are so gorgeous, it makes me so mad

You’re so gorgeous

“¿Por qué nunca andás con nosotros?” He asks suddenly, and it takes you aback. That you end up looking straight at his face.

“Tú tampoco sales mucho que yo sepa, prefieres quedarte en el cerro tomando fotos. No judgement though…” he laughs, feeling a little too comfortable under your touch on his cheeks and chin.

“He salido varias veces con ellos. ¿Y vos? Cero…”

“Estoy ocupada.” You simply reply.

“No es cierto. Por ahí me dijeron que te la pasás viendo películas y escribiendo fanfiction” you blush, but you keep working.

Actually, last Saturday was the first weekend you cried because of him. You couldn’t even stay at the local bar. You left your friends there to go home. New addition to your routine. Avoiding you problems…

“Maybe… ¿pero a ti qué si no voy?” You ask giggling, hoping he would drop the issue. You pause the music and slip your phone inside your bag before returning to him. Scared of his possible answer.

“Pues… porque te quiero ver” your hands start shaking.

“¿A mí?”

“Si. A ti, linda” he says mimicking your accent and sensing how taken aback you are. And he realized, that he had adapted some of your slang words from all the time he spent with you.

“¿Por qué yo, Enzo?” He smiles, and you want to kill him. He made the gesture like you had been so oblivious for ages.

“Porque…” slowly, he grabbed your wrist, preventing you from keeping working on his face. He touches you with such gentleness that it makes you finally start shaking.

The way he looks at you. It must’ve been a dream, two pairs of eyes deeply connected. He was silently revealing he liked you. Once you get it, you shake your head, his eyes giving you some confirmation.

“No..” You brush away from him.

“Si… tal vez es raro o no me creas… pero, vos me gustas. Por eso quiero verte y busco tus bonitos ojos cada vez que trabajás conmigo…” you sigh, dropping the brush and paint a little too violent.

“¿Y por qué yo entre tantas chicas que están a tus pies?” You are fighting against the tears already forming on your eyes. He remains quiet, and to you… that’s an answer.

He doesn’t like the way you are being too negative. But you don’t like having that conversation at all. You are shocked, and you don’t feel in love at that moment. You feel panic and stress. But you might need to reveal the encounter you saw last weekend to get it over with.

“Fui al bar el sábado pasado y te vi con la chica rubia esa. Si te gusta alguien no dejas a la chica rubia hacer ni un movimiento. No te encuentras en redes a las chicas a las que les das reacciones” maybe you had no right to be so angered. But it had been two months, and everything had worsened. At that point, your eyes were already red and crystallized.

“Nada de eso significó algo”

“Si fue algo. Fue tu manera de seguir teniendo opciones en lo que buscabas la manera de acercarte a mí. Por si no te resultaba la cosa conmigo…” again, he remains quiet.

“Mira Enzo, he estado aquí desde hace dos meses y nunca te acercaste. No te salió el amor por mí hoy y lo sabes…” you spit with anger, grabbing your paint and makeup, hurrying to get out of there.

“Tú a mí me has gustado desde la primera semana cuando te conocí. Pero tú no me quieres, y por eso te evado. Aparte del dilema de nuestra diferencia de edad, que podría ser un problema” you explain putting your coat on and grabbing the bag, ignoring the way he is trying to talk.

“Y eres una persona hermosa, Enzo. Sé que eres el amigo y novio casi perfecto. Pero mi intuición me dice que me puedes hacer daño. Quizá te estoy juzgando pero no me quiero arriesgar, perdón” he steps between you and the door. The proximity worsens everything, he wants to end it all for once with a kiss to make you feel the way he does and swear it’s true that he likes you.

It was already difficult for him. He had felt slightly depressed while filming, he felt weird, in company but alone at the same time. And he believed you were what he needed to lighten his weird mood swings.

But you believed he was lying. He honestly felt hurt that you were mistaking him for some womaniser and asshole.

“No te vayas, por favor” he pleaded, shocked to see your teary eyes. So he started questioning what you said about being hurt.

“Ya acabamos, no te preocupes.” You manage to slip beside him, opening the door and leaving him alone.

The dramatic moment culminated in Enzo feeling more depressed and giving a sadder performance for the movie. For you, it gave you a reason to cry in the shower and stare at the balcony of your place for hours, contemplating the sky and feeling so damn weird.

…

You have flashbacks of seeing him laughing and letting the blonde girl at the bar whisper in his ear. His honest smile and how he admitted he liked you a day ago.

You wished for weeks, now months that he confessed his feelings for you. But the moment he does, it feels wrong. Like it wasn’t meant to happen. Because he’s older, he’s got more experience, he had a very long-term girlfriend once, he is too much unlike you.

Maybe it wasn’t meant to happen and this is how it was supposed to end.

With you bursting out in tears and anger. Him believing you were crazy, but you had a point.

He never made a move. Just trying to talk, but he never invited you to do anything with him, or just to stay with him during the free days. It seemed unreal that suddenly he liked you.

And maybe you’re just scared of falling in love, because he could unintentionally but potentially break your heart.

Nonetheless, on the second day you want to distract yourself, it’s Saturday again and you go out alone to jog, then to buy some new clothes and you are about to prepare your dinner when the pain in the ass of Juani asks you to go out for some tapas.

You agree because you really need to distract yourself from thinking about the whole cringy issue with Enzo.

Probably everyone in the production already knew. But you would shut your mouth just to let the rumours die.

You start your walk towards the restaurant when he sends you the location. It’s a few blocks away, and you frown when you see what type of restaurant it is.

“Amiguito, pero creí que querías tapas. Este es un restaurante vegano” you send him a voice message. And he replies immediately.

“Ay pues para ser fitness un día nada más, chica. ¿Ya vas para allá?” You roll your eyes, not that you didn’t like vegan food but you wanted tapas.

“Si, morro meco. Ya estoy a un par de cuadras” you send back, putting on your EarPods and setting a route.

You realise how much you like wearing sneakers, long dresses and coats with matching purses. Perfect for the weather and your silly thoughts of walking on the streets along some cool music playing in the background.

Until you arrive at the restaurant and you don’t spot Juani. But maybe he was on his way. So you order first, grilled tofu with vegetables and tangy sauce.

It’s a cute place, and by the time you find a table, it’s already dark. The restaurant has candles everywhere and quality music playing.

When you start closing your purse, you look up and you freeze. Because you see Enzo entering the place, with a tiny bouquet of flowers on his right hand and a water bottle on the other.

He was wearing jeans, a random sweater shirt and dark sunglasses.

Oh, fuck him. You want run away but first you had to admit he looked gorgeous.

Quickly you change from your seat, giving your back to him, hopefully becoming invisible until he he leaves.

Your fingers rush to find the contact of Juani and send him a violent voice message.

“Oye, ¿por qué carajo no has llegado? ¿Y por qué Enzo Vogrincic está viendo el menú ahora mismo?” You send and he starts writing.

“Es que él es vegano…” he writes in text, which boils your blood.

“¿Y eso a mí qué chingados me importa, Juani? Ven ya y sácame a escondidas o te juro que me voy a colgar del primer poste de luz que vea” you silently scream, lowering your voice.

“No puedo” that’s it, you’re going to die in a vegan restaurant while Enzo Vogrincic orders food.

You are about to stand up when he literally appears on your table.

“Ey…” Qué maldito, y todavía te sonríe y todo.

“¿Y el Juani ya viene o no?” You ask, trying to sound confident.

“De hecho no va a venir” right, pinche Juani idiota, qué gran amigo.

“Oh okay. Ya me voy, nomás venía por mi comida para llevar” You mumble sighing, standing up from the table, then Enzo grabs your forearm and makes you sit again.

“No, vos te quedas. Aquí, te traje estas” he hands you the flowers, yellow tulips.

A tiny smile wants to lurk in your face.

“Yo nunca le he dicho a Juani… ni a Matías ni a nadie cuáles son mis flores favoritas” you frown confused, grabbing them.

They’re beautiful.

“Tuve que buscar por mi cuenta” he admits, and you frown deeper. Until you open your eyes in shock.

“¿Me zorreraste mi Instagram?” Enzo starts laughing, and you blush. He takes a seat and drops the receipt of his order on the table. You read it, chickpea pasta with arrabiata sauce and zucchini.

You read his order just to avoid looking at his eyes.

“Dejáme explicar todo…” slowly, you look at him. You are still on time to ask for the food to be to go, you can leave and just let this strange issue wash away.

But a waitress appears with your tofu and the pasta. You awkwardly smile and say thank you as well as Enzo.

“Está bien…” he smiles, thinking your eyeliner was so perfect. Your dress was cute and the coat made you look elegant and fine.

“Vos sabes quién te engañó. Le pedí a Juani que te hiciera venir a un lugar para poder verte. Porque conseguí tu número y nunca contestaste ni estabas cuando fui a buscarte” you roll your eyes. Unbelievable how childish was the whole situation.

“Yo quería tapas”

“Dale, ahorita te llevo por tapas” Enzo says with a smile. You simply mock him with a gesture and proceed to eat.

“Lamento no haber dado señales desde el inicio. Creí que con hacer plática cuando me maquillabas era suficiente.” He confesses.

“Con todos sos un amor. Y conmigo… siempre seria y pues… llegué a pesar que no te agradaba” you shrug, eyebrows rising and avoiding his eyes once again.

“Todo lo contrario…” you admit.

“Ya veo. Entonces hace unas semanas, los chicos empezaron a sacar el tema. Que debía invitarte a salir o hacerte venir con nosotros a comer para ahí verte”

“Y ayer me atreví. Pero temo que tu reacción no fue la que buscaba” he says with many pauses, not wanting to disturb you.

“Tú declaración tampoco fue lo que esperaba.” He nods, calming you.

“Ya lo sé, hubiera sido mejor esperar a estar en un lugar… como este”

“Quizá” you reason with him.

“Incluso desde antes de admitir que vos me gustas, no me he visto con nadie. Así que solo eres tú… nadie más” you nod, looking back at the tulips and feeling butterflies at the way he spoke with your accent just to highlight how he wanted you.

“Están preciosas, gracias” you say lifting the bouquet. Enzo smiles. So you know it’s time, you sigh.

“Yo también lo siento por juzgarte sin saber. No tenía derecho de ponerme a reclamar nada. Es solo que me da miedo dejar que esto, pues fluya…” you say, not wanting to repeat once again that your intuition said he would break your heart.

“No te voy a lastimar, nunca. Dejáme quererte. Por favor….” he pleads, accepting he was nervous and desperate. He really longed for someone in the upside down moments of his days.

“Yo solo quiero sentir confianza y seguridad. ¿Me puedes dar eso?”

“Te voy a dar todo, pero más lo que vos quieras. Y si confianza y seguridad es lo que querés…. Así será, linda” you smile, finding his hand on top of the table, intertwining your fingers with him.

“Entonces todo bien, lindo” he smiles more, ending in a sweet laugh.

He helps you pick the rest of the food, both of you also order ice cream cones. Him with chocolate and you with pistachios. And soon both of you are walking together in the streets. Spring is near and it’s your favourite season. You feel happy feeling his warm touch outside of the job. And now being inches away from him feels like a new home.

“¿Si vamos a ir por las tapas?” He starts laughing again, and when he leans, you can feel what’s coming.

“Te puedo besar?” he asks and you nod, so he ends up grabbing your cheeks and smashing his lips with yours. In what possible dream you could’ve seen Enzo Vogrincic was asking permission to kiss you?

“Te quiero” he spills, and you only smile on his lips, deepening the kiss. Feeling the silly butterflies in your stomach and intense tears of happiness. You almost drop your cone due to that.

“Yo también te quiero” you reply, swiftly bumping your forehead with him. He then takes your hand and suddenly you don’t feel wrong about it.

Now it feels safe, warm and true. Like destiny changed its mind and finally it was meant to be.

____________________

update junio 2024: JAJSJDJJDDJ QUÉ MAMADAS ESCRIBÍA EN ENERO. LOL, QUÉ MAL, ENZO AÚN TE QUIERO MUCHÍSIMOOOO🩷

[ruewrote]

ℎ𝑜𝑙𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑜 𝑡𝑜𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑟𝑜𝑤.

PAIRING: evan buckley x fem!reader WARNINGS: the end of s6 e10, no use of y/n GENRE: fluff to angst to fluff, friends to lovers SONG INSPIRATION: close by nick jonas, tove lo WORD COUNT: 5.4k

navigation | ask | evan buckley masterlist

working out with buck had been your idea. you’d been needing a workout buddy for weeks, and when the team’s golden retriever of a firefighter overheard you mumbling about it to yourself, he all but begged to join.

“you kidding me?” he’d said, practically bouncing on his heels. his blue eyes lit up. “i’ve been dying for someone to spot me! eddie’s great and all, but he always wants to do leg day. you can’t skip chest, y’know?”

you couldn’t help but laugh at his enthusiasm, rolling your eyes in fond amusement. “fine,” you’d said, shrugging. “but don’t complain when i make you do cardio.”

he’d placed a hand dramatically over his heart. “cardio? brutal. i’m in.”

truthfully, you weren’t about to turn him down. buck’s infectious energy was always a mood booster, and the idea of having some company – especially someone as good natured as buck, made the thought of dragging yourself to the gym a little more bearable. 

what you hadn’t expected, though, was just how much of a scene your new workout buddy would cause once you actually got there.

from the moment you walked in, it was clear buck had a way of drawing attention. it wasn’t just his size, though, at a towering 6’2 with broad shoulders and a physique that screamed firefighter, he was hard to miss. 

it was the way he carried himself: confident, animated, and completely unaware of how many people were stealing glances his way.

“alright, partner,” he said, clapping his hands together with a grin as he surveyed the gym floor. 

“what’s the game plan?”

before you could respond, he leaned closer, his voice dropping conspiratorially. “wait…please tell me you’re not one of those people who only does the treadmill and leaves.”

your eyebrows shot up. “and what if i am?”

buck gasped, scandalized. “then i’d have to stage an intervention. you’re not just here to take instagram selfies, right?”

“relax, buck,” you said, laughing. “i actually want to work out. and for the record, i don’t even have instagram.”

“good,” he said, relieved. “because i have a strict no posers policy,” he laughs.

the first hour was typical enough. you’d both started on treadmills to warm up, buck kept pace with you, occasionally shooting you goofy grins or nudging your arm to try and playfully throw you off.

but when it came time to hit the weights, the playful banter took a backseat to something else entirely.

“alright,” buck said, clapping his hands together as the two of you moved to the weight machines. “what’s the plan? you wanna start light and work your way up?”

you gave him a look, a small smirk tugging at the corners of your lips. “not exactly.”

he blinked, his curiosity piqued, as you walked past the smaller dumbbells and headed straight for the leg press machine. without hesitation, you loaded it up with plates, a lot of plates.

buck’s eyebrows shot up. “uh…” he hesitated, scratching the back of his neck. “you sure about that? that’s, like, 280 pounds.”

“yeah,” you said casually, adjusting the seat as if it was no big deal.

he stepped closer, his concern evident. “i mean, not to doubt you or anything, but… that’s a lot of weight. you sure you don’t wanna, i dunno, warm up with something lighter?”

you shot him a grin, sliding into position. “relax, buck. i’ve got this.”

he opened his mouth to protest, but the words died in his throat as you pushed against the plate, lifting the weight with almost laughable ease.

his jaw dropped.

“holy–”

you completed the first few reps with smooth, controlled movements, your legs steady as you pressed the weight up and lowered it back down like it was nothing. by the time you finished the set, buck’s jaw was practically on the floor.

you sat up, brushing a bead of sweat from your brow and giving him an amused glance. “what?”

buck shook his head, a laugh bubbling out of him as he stared at the loaded machine. “i don’t even know what to say right now.”

“say i’m strong and move on,” you said, smirking as you got up to grab a towel.

“oh, you’re strong, alright,” he said, still staring at the weights like they might be made of styrofoam. “you’re, like, scary strong.”

you rolled your eyes, brushing off the compliment as you moved toward the next machine. “it’s not that impressive.”

“not that impressive?” buck repeated, practically tripping over himself to follow you. “are you kidding me? you just lifted more weight than half the guys i know! heck, i’m not even sure i can do that.”

you shrugged, unconcerned. “it’s not a competition, buck.”

“no, but seriously, how did you– what’s your secret? is it, like, spinach? protein shakes? did you sell your soul for quads of steel?”

you snorted, shaking your head. “hard work, buck. and maybe a little bit of magic spinach.”

he laughed, still looking at you with something bordering on awe. “okay, but now i’m scared to spar with you. what if you accidentally throw me across the room or something?”

“don’t tempt me,” you teased, grabbing a set of dumbbells for your next exercise.

but buck wasn’t letting it go. he lingered by your side, peppering you with questions about your routine, your strength, and how you managed to make 280 pounds look like a warm up as you both did your shoulder press sets.

“do you ever, like, wrestle people for fun?” he asked, eyes wide with curiosity. “because i think you could clean out a bar with those legs.”

“i don’t usually make a habit of that,” you said, amused by his relentless fascination.

“well, you should. you’d make bank,” he said, completely serious.

you chuckled, shaking your head as you put down your equipment. you moved to another machine. “buck, are you going to work out, or are you just here to watch me?”

“oh, i’m working out,” he said, grabbing a pair of weights. “but i’m also taking mental notes. i mean, i thought i was strong, but now? i’ve got to try not to be lifted by you in every single exercise.”

“good luck with that,” you said, smirking.

buck’s grin widened, his competitive streak lighting up in his eyes. “oh, it’s on.”

as the workout continued, buck kept finding new things to be impressed by.

when you did pull ups, he counted under his breath, his awe growing with each rep. “you’re gonna make me look bad,” he muttered, shaking his head.

“then keep up,” you teased, dropping down effortlessly.

when you moved back over to free weights, buck watched as you lifted with perfect form, the muscles in your arms flexing with every movement.

“i think i just found my new hero,” he said, only half-joking.

“buck,” you said, laughing. “stop staring and do your set.”

“i can’t help it,” he admitted, grinning. “you’re like… the woman version of captain america.”

you rolled your eyes, your cheeks warming despite yourself. “you’re ridiculous.”

over the weeks, going to the gym with evan had become a comforting routine. he always made your favorite protein shakes, bringing it in the reusable cup you’d picked out together on a shopping trip. 

there was a soothing familiarity to the cycle you’d both fallen into: wake up early, eat, meet evan, work out, eat again, then head to work.

it was exhausting, sure, but it also made you feel more alive and motivated than you had in ages.

as much as you enjoyed it, though, it was becoming a bit of a problem. you felt an ache of disappointment on the days evan couldn’t make it or when he brought someone else to the gym on days you were too sick to go. 

there was a twinge of something deeper, an unease in your stomach, whenever you weren’t around him.

you couldn’t stop yourself from sneaking glances at him between sets. watching him lift massive weights with ease, his face barely showing the strain, made your cheeks heat up. flustered, you quickly turned away, taking a sip of water to hide the smile threatening to betray your feelings.

the more time you spent with evan, the harder it became to ignore how much you enjoyed his company – how much you looked forward to your time together. it was in the way when he’d adjust the equipment for you, his knowing smirks when he caught you stealing glances at him, and the way he made the gym feel more like a hangout than a chore.

that morning, as you finished a set on the leg press, you caught evan watching you, his gaze lingering just a second longer than usual. he leaned against the wall, arms crossed, a playful grin tugging at the corner of his lips.

“not bad,” he said. “looks like someone’s been paying attention.”

you shrugged, pretending to be unfazed. “someone had to. i can’t exactly count on you for tips.”

his grin widened as he pushed off the wall, walking toward you. “oh, is that right? maybe i should stop correcting your form then.”

“maybe you should,” you quipped, grabbing your water bottle. “but we both know you can’t help yourself.”

he laughed, low and warm. “you’re lucky i like you.”

you tilted your head, smirking. “oh, you like me? i thought this whole thing was me doing you a favor.”

he stepped closer, close enough that you had to tilt your head up to meet his gaze. “is that what you think?” he asked, his voice dropping slightly. “because from where i’m standing, it looks like you’re the one who keeps showing up to see me.”

you rolled your eyes, even as your pulse quickened. “don’t flatter yourself, buckley. i’m here for the gains.”

“sure you are.” he leaned in just enough for you to catch the faint scent of his cologne. “and the protein shakes, right?”

you shrugged, letting a sly smile cross your lips. “well, the shakes are pretty good. i might keep you around for those.”

he laughed, shaking his head as you brushed past him toward the mats. “unbelievable.”

the rest of the session passed with the same energy. quick-witted remarks, lingering looks, and more than a little playful tension. when you finished stretching, evan handed you your protein shake, his smirk firmly in place.

“taste test,” he said, nodding toward the cup. “admit it. i’m the best gym partner you’ve ever had.”

you took a sip, deliberately slow, meeting his gaze with a smirk of your own. “mmm… you’re definitely in my top three.”

his jaw dropped in mock offense. “top three? that’s all i get?”

you shrugged, walking toward the door. “guess you’ll have to work harder if you want to move up.”

he followed after you, his chuckle soft but full of amusement. “oh, i will. don’t worry.”

as you stepped into the cool morning air, the playful grin you exchanged with him lingered. it wasn’t just the workouts keeping you coming back, and you were pretty sure he knew it too.

you should have said something before you left the station.

the bad feeling in your gut had been sitting there all morning, clawing at your nerves with every glance toward buck. he’d been his usual self. bright, charming self. in the way only evan buckley could be, but something about today felt incredibly off. 

you didn’t know what it meant but you knew it wasn’t anything to do with his usual antics that made you uneasy.

as soon as the alarm sounded, buck had been all business, as if the bad feeling had somehow missed him completely. but it had latched onto you, sinking its sharp claws deeper with every second.

"hey," he had said just before you all climbed into the engine. "you’ve been staring at me all morning. something on your mind, or do i look extra good today?" his grin was wide, teasing, just like always.

you rolled your eyes, the usual banter offering no comfort this time. "just… don’t do anything stupid, buck."

he smirked as he slung his helmet on, the motion so casual it could have been an instinct at this point. "define stupid," he teased back, his voice light as he climbed into the engine.

you watched him for a second, a twinge of frustration running through you. he wasn’t taking you seriously. but the bad feeling, the nagging sense that something was off, wouldn’t leave.

you knew you weren’t being paranoid.

"buck," you called, stopping him by holding onto his arm just as he was about to get into the engine, his back turned to you. "i'm serious. you’ve been a little more reckless lately, and i don’t want to see you get hurt. you need to be careful."

his expression softened slightly, but there was a flicker of that familiar mischievous glint in his eyes. "hey, you worry too much," he said with a chuckle. "i’ve got this."

you exhaled sharply, watching him climb in and settle into his seat. you should have insisted more. should have made him listen. but instead, you let it slide, trying to push aside the bad feeling in your gut.

still, that nagging feeling wouldn’t go away.

the entire drive to the scene, you couldn’t shake it. you kept glancing at buck out of the corner of your eye, but every time he caught you staring, he’d throw you a grin or wink, as if everything was just fine, as if nothing was wrong. he didn’t see it.

you tried to focus on the task at hand, tried to prepare yourself for whatever was waiting for you once you arrived. but that feeling, that certainty in your gut that something was about to go wrong, kept escalating. 

the scene before you was pure chaos. flames licking hungrily at the night sky, smoke billowing in plumes from the high rise apartment building. the rain was relentless, drenching everything, adding a cruel, ironic touch to the flames. you worked quickly, herding evacuees to a safe distance, your voice steady despite the frantic pounding of your heart.

through it all, your eyes kept flickering to buck. he was ‘arguing’ with chimney, both gesturing toward the ladder propped up next to the burning building. you didn’t need to hear them to know what it was about; the decision of who would ascend into danger.

buck won. chimney relented, clapping him on the shoulder before stepping back. you watched buck as he adjusted his gear and started up the ladder.

your hands itched to pull him back, to ground him. but this was the job.

“be careful,” you murmured under your breath, as if the wind might carry your words to him.

he was now fully up the ladder, chimney and eddie stood close by, ready to assist

the hose spraying water over the flames as he leaned into his harness. the muscles in his arms flexed against the pull of the stream, his movements steady despite the slippery ladder and the brutal weather.

you stayed rooted on the spot, keeping a watchful eye on him. every instinct in your body screamed at you to make sure he was okay. he was professional, you knew that, you'd seen it time after time again but also knew that he was always pushing himself, always risking too much.

he adjusted his grip on the hose, pausing for a moment to glance around. his head tilted slightly, scanning the sky above.

that’s when it happened.

a blinding flash of light. searing, far too close. the bolt of lightning struck with a deafening crack, so near it sent a shockwave through the ground. you stumbled back, shielding your face against the glare. when your vision cleared, the madness continued.

eddie was on the ground, sprawled beside the truck, stunned but moving. your eyes darted to the ladder, searching frantically for buck.

your breath hitched.

he was dangling. his body hung limply from the harness. your heart dropped into your stomach, your voice breaking as you screamed his name.

“buck!”

hen was suddenly beside you, her hand firm on your arm. “i’ve got this,” she said quickly, taking your place as you stumbled toward the ladder.

everything around you blurred except for him. your heart racing as you saw chimney and eddie already scaling it, their movements urgent. your heart pounded in your ears. 

buck was still swaying in the harness.

chimney reached him first, working quickly to detach the harness, easing him on a stretcher.  the seconds felt like hours as they maneuvered to bring him down, each movement too slow for your frantic mind.

they pulled his helmet off, revealing a face that was far too pale. he wasn’t moving. he wasn’t breathing.

“oh my god.” the words left your lips in a whisper at first, then louder, more frantic. “oh my god, he’s not breathing!”

your knees buckled, and eddie caught you, his arms steady around your shaking frame. “they’ve got him,” he said, his voice tight but comforting. yet his eyes betrayed him, he was just as terrified as you were.

chimney was already working, barking orders, his hands moving with practiced precision. but all you could do was stare, tears streaming down your face as you clung to eddie.

“come on, buck,” you pleaded, your voice cracking. “please.”

time stretched endlessly, each second a cruel twist of the knife. eddie’s arms tightened around you, grounding you as you sobbed into his shoulder, unable to tear your eyes away from the still figure on the stretcher.

and then, mercifully, chimney shouted, “i’ve got a pulse!”

relief washed over you, a sensation you hadn’t realised how desperately you needed until it finally hit. the moment buck’s chest rose and fell, a steady rhythm of life, you felt a flicker of hope ignite in your chest.

you were the first to jump into the ambulance after they loaded him in, not even thinking, you just knew that you needed to be with him, to stay close. you sat beside him, as the paramedics worked, hands moving swiftly.

your eyes stayed glued to buck, to the rise and fall of his chest with each breath. the fog of his exhale against the oxygen mask was the smallest of assurances, but it was enough. enough to make you believe that, against all odds, he was still here with you.

your fingers curled into the seat beneath you, holding on to that fragile hope. his pulse was steady now, mingling with the low hum of the ambulance. for the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to breathe again, knowing that somehow, miraculously, he was still with you.

later that night, the others came by to visit buck after their shifts ended.

first, it was hen. she walked into the room, her face drawn with concern, her eyes immediately seeking you out. when she saw you still sitting in your uniform, not having moved from buck’s side, her expression softened. she took a slow breath, then crossed the room to stand beside you.

“hey,” hen said quietly, her voice gentle as she took in the sight of you, your exhaustion evident. she noticed how you were clinging to the quiet hope that buck would wake up any moment. she placed a hand on the back of the chair you were sitting in, her touch light but grounding.

“i know there’s nothing i can really say to fix this, but just know you’re not alone, alright?”

you gave her a small, tired smile, grateful for her presence. “i know,” you whispered, nodding toward buck. “i just… i need to be here. he’ll wake up soon, hen. he has to.”

she didn’t push you to talk more, knowing there were no words that could change what had happened. she simply stood there, her presence a quiet comfort. she squeezed your shoulder lightly before stepping back toward the door. “i’m one phone call away if you need me.”

you nodded again, and hen gave you one last look. one filled with unspoken support, before she left the room, leaving you alone with buck, the steady beeping of machines and the soft rustle of sheets the only sounds filling the silence.

next came bobby. his steps were slow, almost hesitant, as he approached. he paused for a moment by the door, taking in the sight of you sitting by buck’s side, clearly worn out but unwilling to leave. he stepped closer, his hand briefly resting on your shoulder in a silent show of support.

“how’s he doing?” bobby asked, his voice low but laced with concern.

you took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself as you gave him the same explanation you’d given hen. “he’s stable. the doctors said it’s just the aftereffects of the lightning strike. he’s in a coma, but they’re monitoring him closely.” your voice wavered slightly, but you pushed through, not wanting to show how deeply it was affecting you.

bobby nodded, absorbing the information. he didn’t ask for more details. his gaze lingered on buck for a moment, his brow furrowing with worry before he looked back at you.

“i know that he appreciates you being here with him.”

you offered him a tight smile, appreciating the sentiment even if it didn’t quite ease the weight in your chest.

bobby gave you one last, understanding glance before he turned and made his way to the door. 

he left quietly, leaving you alone once more with buck, the room feeling a little emptier than before but still filled with that quiet hope that he’d wake up soon.

it wasn't long until eddie got there. he stood at the doorway for a moment, looking at you with that familiar, quiet worry in his eyes. his gaze flickered to buck before he approached. “how are you holding up?” he asked softly.

you nodded, though the exhaustion was starting to hit you. “i’m fine. i just... i need to be here. he’ll wake up soon. the doctors are optimistic.”

eddie gave a short, strained smile, but his eyes didn’t quite match the gesture. “you’re doing everything you can.” he patted your shoulder and lingered for a moment, then left without another word, his presence offering you the slightest bit of comfort.

after eddie, chimney and maddie came by together, both looking drained from their shifts. they paused when they saw you still sitting there, but you shook your head, silently telling them you were okay.

you reiterated what you had said to the others.

chimney gave you a concerned glance, but maddie was the first to pull you into a hug. her arms wrapped around you, offering a quiet but comforting presence. you let yourself lean into the embrace for a moment, grateful for the feeling of someone who understood what you were going through.

they stayed for a little while, with maddie talking softly to you, her voice calm and steady, offering small distractions. eventually, she gave chimney a look, and he gave a brief nod before heading out of the room, leaving the two of you alone.

the room felt a little quieter, a little more intimate, and the weight of everything seemed to settle around you both. after a beat of silence, maddie let out a soft sigh and glanced over at buck, his unconscious form still hooked up to machines. “of course evan would be the one to go and get struck by lightning,” she said with a light laugh, the sound a bit shaky.

you couldn’t help but chuckle too, glancing at buck with a fond smile. the moment lingered for a while, but the laughter eventually faded, and the air grew heavier again.

maddie’s expression softened, her tone turning more serious. “he talks about you all the time, you know?”

your head snapped toward her, the surprise evident in your eyes. “he… he does?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

maddie gave a small, knowing smile and nodded. “a little too much, if i’m being honest. but don’t tell him i said that,” she added with a wink, as though sharing some kind of secret.

you felt your heart skip a beat at the thought, warmth spreading through you. the idea that buck, through everything, even in the midst of his chaotic life. talked about you with such frequency, it was almost too much to process. 

but somehow, it made the weight of the moment feel a little lighter, the hope growing that he’d wake up and that you’d get the chance to hear all of it from him, yourself.

you requested time off, and bobby didn’t hesitate to approve it. he knew, as well as you did, that there was no way you could focus on work, not when your heart and mind were stuck in that hospital room.

so you stayed. you spent your days at the hospital, barely leaving buck’s side. the rest of your life faded into the background. the gym, your job, even basic routines. all of it felt distant and unimportant compared to the need to be there for him.

every night, the nurses gently urged you to leave when visiting hours ended. you could tell they didn’t want to force you out; the sympathetic looks on their faces said as much. they were kind, patient, and understanding, but rules were rules.

each time you left, you were reluctant, your heart aching at the thought of being away in case he woke up. before you’d go, you always leaned down to press a kiss to his forehead, your lips lingering a moment longer each time. you’d clasp his hand in both of yours, brushing your thumb gently across his limp fingers, whispering words of hope he couldn’t yet hear.

at home, everything felt heavier. eating and showering became a struggle, but you managed, if only because you needed to be somewhat put together for him when you returned. you’d collapse into bed, trying to drown out the fear and negativity with the faint hope that maybe, when you woke up, he would too.

a week passed like this, each day melting into the next as you clung to your new routine. 

on this particular evening, as visiting hours neared their end, you sat by buck’s side again. you clasped his hand, bringing it to your lips briefly before leaning over to place another on his forehead.

and then you felt it, a faint squeeze against your hand.

your breath caught in your throat as you froze, your heart racing. slowly, you pulled back and stared at his hand in yours, disbelief mixing with hope. “buck?” you whispered, your voice trembling.

your heart pounded as you stared at his hand, still clasped in yours. for a moment, you wondered if you had imagined it, if your mind was playing tricks on you after days of exhaustion. but then it happened again, a weak, deliberate squeeze.

“buck?” you whispered again, louder this time, leaning closer to him. tears welled in your eyes as you searched his face for any other signs of movement. his eyelids fluttered, just barely, but it was enough to send a wave of relief crashing over you.

“oh my god, buck, can you hear me?” your voice cracked, and your free hand reached out to gently brush against his cheek. his skin felt warmer than it had in days, and the faintest sound escaped his lips. a low, hoarse groan.

you pressed the call button frantically, your hand shaking as you leaned in closer, desperate to see more. “it’s me. i’m here,” you said softly, your thumb brushing over his knuckles. “you’re okay, buck. you’re safe. just keep waking up for me, please.”

the door burst open as a nurse hurried in, quickly assessing the situation. “he’s waking up,” you said, your voice trembling with a mix of joy and panic.

the nurse nodded, immediately moving to check his vitals and calling for the doctor. you stepped back slightly to give them space, but you couldn’t take your eyes off buck. his fingers twitched in yours again, his head turning just enough for you to catch a glimpse of his face. his eyes opened slowly, unfocused but alive.

“hey, there you are,” you whispered, tears spilling down your cheeks as you smiled through the overwhelming emotions.

his gaze drifted to you, his brow furrowing slightly as if he was trying to make sense of where he was. his lips moved, dry and cracked, but no sound came out.

“it’s okay,” you said quickly, leaning closer again. “don’t try to talk. just rest. you’re in the hospital, but you’re safe now. i’m here, buck. i’ve been here the whole time.”

the doctor arrived shortly after, giving you a reassuring smile as they began to examine him. you reluctantly let go of his hand so they could work, stepping aside but never straying far from his side.

“his response is a very good sign,” the doctor said after a moment, turning to you. “we’ll keep monitoring him closely, but it looks like the worst is over.”

you let out a breath you didn’t realise you’d been holding, your chest feeling lighter than it had in days. as soon as the doctor stepped back, you were at buck’s side again, taking his hand in yours.

“see? i told you you’d be okay,” you said softly, brushing a strand of hair away from his forehead. his lips curled into the faintest hint of a smile, and it was the most beautiful thing you’d seen in a while.

a couple of hours later, after the doctors had left and the atmosphere had settled, it was just you and buck in the quiet hospital room. the dim light from the bedside lamp cast a soft glow over him, highlighting the color slowly returning to his cheeks.

he shifted slightly, wincing, and you immediately reached for the cup of water on the tray beside his bed. “easy,” you murmured, slipping a straw into the cup and holding it up for him. “here, small sips.”

buck obediently took a sip, his eyes never leaving yours. his throat worked as he swallowed, and you felt a wave of relief seeing him manage something so simple. it was progress.

“you scared the hell out of me, you know,” you said softly, setting the cup down once he’d had enough. “you got struck by lightning, buck. lightning. do you even realise how lucky you are to be here right now?”

he blinked, his gaze turning thoughtful. “i remember… the storm,” he rasped, his voice hoarse. you immediately reached for the water again, bringing it to his lips before he could continue.

“here. drink more. don’t push yourself,” you said, your fussing in full force now. you fluffed his pillows, adjusted his blanket, and scanned the machines monitoring his vitals, as if you could will them to show even better numbers.

“you remember the storm?” you prompted, sitting back down beside him and holding his hand tightly.

buck nodded, his brow furrowing. “yeah. i was on the ladder… the flames were bad. i remember hosing them down, and then…” he paused, his eyes growing distant. “a loud crack. bright light. and then… nothing.”

your grip on his hand tightened, and you swallowed hard, trying to keep your emotions in check. “buck, you were out for a week. a week. they weren’t sure if you’d–” your voice cracked, and you quickly shook your head, brushing away a tear. “but you’re here now, and that’s what matters.”

buck’s lips twitched into a small smile, his hand weakly squeezing yours. “you’ve been taking care of me, haven’t you?”

you scoffed lightly, brushing it off. “of course i have. someone has to make sure you don’t do anything stupid like this again.”

he chuckled softly, the sound weak but warm. “you don’t have to worry so much, you know. i’m okay.”

you froze, staring at him in disbelief. “don’t have to worry? buck, do you even realise what just happened to you? you almost died! you were in a coma! and now you’re telling me not to worry? you’ve got to be kidding me.”

as you ranted, your free hand gesturing animatedly, buck just lay there, watching you with an amused smile.

“what?” you snapped, though there was no real anger in your tone.

“nothing,” he said, his voice soft and laced with affection. “just… you’re cute when you’re like this.”

your face heated, and you rolled your eyes, but the corners of your mouth twitched upward despite yourself. “you’re impossible, buck.”

“and yet, here you are,” he teased, his smile growing.

you shook your head, leaning forward to press a kiss to his forehead. 

“yeah, looks like you're stuck with me, buckley.”

comments and reblogs are appreciated ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

© ruewrote 2024.

[wolvietxt]

𝓕OR THE 𝓕IRST 𝓣IME …

pairing : dean winchester x female!reader warnings : crying, friends to lovers, fluff, really light angst (squint and you’ll miss it), hunts, food mentions, reader has implied insomnia (self indulgent sorry) wc : 6.1k😈

the gravel crunched under the impala’s tires as dean pulled into the parking lot of yet another roadside diner. the neon sign buzzed faintly overhead, casting flickering hues of blue and pink over the impala’s sleek frame.  

“another diner?” you teased, sliding out of the passenger seat. your boots hit the ground with a soft thud. “you know, there are other food groups besides pie.”  

dean smirked, locking the car with a flick of his wrist. “and i’m sure you’ll tell me all about them, kid. but i don’t need food advice from someone who orders salad at a steakhouse.”  

“first of all, that was only one time,” you shot back, walking alongside him toward the door. “and second, that salad was really really good.”  

dean snorted, holding the door open for you. “whatever helps you sleep at night, darlin’.”  

the diner was exactly what you expected: vinyl booths, laminate tables, and the comforting hum of an old jukebox in the corner. dean led the way to a booth by the window, sliding in across from you.  

“so,” you started, picking up a menu. “are you gonna do that thing where you order half of what’s on the menu? or just pie and coffee?”  

“both,” dean said without hesitation, his eyes skimming the options. “you know me. go big or go home.”  

the waitress appeared moments later, all smiles and a notepad in hand. dean ordered two burgers and, of course, pie. you went with something lighter, which earned you a raised brow.  

“you sure that’s enough?” he asked once the waitress left. “you’re gonna get hungry and start eyeing my fries. i can feel it.”  

“i am perfectly capable of ordering my own food, thanks.”  

“we’ll see.”  

the food arrived faster than expected, and you fell into easy conversation, catching up on the day’s events. the current hunt had been straightforward so far - just a basic salt-and-burn. still, you weren’t exactly looking forward to it. you never where when it came to hunts, they were more dean’s speciality. the looming anxiety and sense of impending doom wasn’t ever remotely enjoyable for you.

“so, what’s the plan for tomorrow?” you asked, grabbing a fry from your plate. “wrap this one up and hit the road?”  

“probably,” dean replied between bites. “unless we get more intel on that death omen case. sam thinks there’s a connection between the two.”  

“of course he does,” you said with a laugh. “guy can’t take a win without overthinking it.”  

“hey, that overthinking saves our asses sometimes,” dean pointed out, though his tone was more fond than annoyed.  

“true. but it also gets him hexed.” you grinned. “remember that time with the chickens?”  

dean barked out a laugh, nearly choking on his drink. “oh man, that was gold. i think we have a picture of him running from that rooster somewhere.”  

“we should frame it,” you said, smirking. “hang it in the bunker’s library for motivation.”  

“you’re evil, you know that?” he remarked, his smug grin widening further.

“takes one to know one,” you shot back, plucking the cherry off of his slice of pie and popping it into your mouth.

your conversations were effortless, the kind of back-and-forth that felt like second nature at this point. it wasn’t until dean reached over and grabbed one of your fries that you gave him a look.  

“you’ve got two whole plates,” you said, swatting his hand away.  

“what can i say?” he replied, popping the fry into his mouth with zero shame. “yours taste better.”  

before you could respond, the waitress returned to drop off the check. she hesitated for a second, then smiled warmly.  

“you two are such a cute couple,” she said, her voice casual but sincere.  

you froze, your mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.  

“we are not a couple,” you blurted out, at the exact same time dean said, “yeah, never.”  

the waitress blinked, clearly taken aback by your synchronized response. “oh, uh, sorry! my mistake.”  

she hurried off, and you stared after her, still processing what just happened.  

“well, that wasn’t awkward at all,” dean muttered, reaching for his coffee.  

“why does this keep happening?” you asked, more to yourself than to him.  

“beats me,” dean said with a shrug, though you caught the flicker of something in his expression - amusement, maybe? “guess we just give off the vibe.”  

“the vibe?” you echoed.  

“you know.” he waved a hand between the two of you. “like… a vibe.”  

“that explains nothing.”  

“then i guess it can just be one of life’s great mysteries, sweetheart.”  

you tried to let it go, but the waitress’s comment lingered in the back of your mind. it wasn’t the first time someone had assumed you and dean were a couple, and it probably wouldn’t be the last. still, it felt… different this time.  

you glanced across the table at dean. he was back to his usual self, leaning against the booth with a lazy grin and a smart remark on the tip of his tongue.  

he caught you staring and raised an eyebrow. “what?”  

“nothing,” you said quickly, looking away. “just thinking.”  

“about what?”  

“the hunt,” you lied.  

he didn’t press, but you could feel his gaze lingering for a moment longer before he turned his attention back to the check.  

“you ready to hit the road?” he asked, sliding out of the booth.  

“yeah,” you said, grabbing your jacket. “let’s go.”  

the drive back to the motel was quiet, the hum of the impala’s engine filling the silence. dean had turned on the radio, and metallica’s prince charming filtered through the speakers. you leaned your head against the window, watching the dark countryside blur past.  

“why are you being so damn quiet?” dean said after a while. “i know i’m always complaining about it but it really doesn’t feel right when you’re not yapping my ear off.”

“‘m just tired,” you replied, though that wasn’t entirely true. your mind was still replaying the waitress’s words and the way dean had brushed them off so easily.  

“well, get some rest,” he said, his voice softer now. “we’ve got a long day tomorrow.”  

“okay, dean.” you nodded, letting your eyes drift shut as baby rumbled on.  

the next morning, you were back on the road, this time heading toward a small, rundown cemetery. the salt-and-burn had gone smoothly, but the death omen case was proving to be trickier than expected.  

“so what are we looking for?” you asked as dean parked the car near the edge of the cemetery, trying to rub your eyes subtly so he wouldn’t notice your fatigue.

“old journal entries mentioned a spirit tied to a cursed locket,” he said, grabbing his duffel bag. “we find the locket, we find the spirit.”  

“sounds easy enough,” you said, though you both knew it rarely was.  

the two of you spent the next hour combing through the overgrown graves, your flashlights cutting through the dark.  

“anything?” dean called out from a few rows over.  

“not yet,” you replied, brushing aside some vines. “but this place gives me the creeps.”  

“aww, don’t tell me you’re scared, sweetheart,” dean teased, his grin audible even from a distance.  

“you wish,” you shot back, though you couldn’t deny the way your nerves prickled.  

as you moved to another section of the cemetery, you couldn’t shake the feeling that someone - or something - was watching you.  

“dean,” you called out, your voice quieter now.  

“yeah? you okay, sweetheart?” his voice softer now, a hint of panic sneaking through. 

“i think we’ve got company.”  

he was at your side in an instant, his flashlight sweeping the area. “stay close,” he said, his tone serious now.  

you nodded, your heart pounding as the shadows seemed to close in around you. whatever was out there, you had a feeling this hunt was about to get a whole lot messier.  

the night was heavy with an unnatural stillness, the kind that made your skin crawl. somewhere deep in the shadows of the cemetery, you just knew something was watching you.  

you stayed close to dean as the two of you scanned the overgrown headstones, flashlights cutting through the darkness.  

“you hear that?” you whispered, your voice barely carrying over the faint rustle of leaves in the breeze.  

“hear what?” dean replied, his gaze darting around.  

then it came again - a low, guttural moan, echoing through the cemetery like a warning.  

“that,” you said, gripping the iron crowbar in your hand a little tighter.  

dean’s jaw tensed. “stay behind me,” he muttered, pulling out his gun.  

“you know i’m not great at staying behind,” you quipped, though your attempt at humor fell flat against the weight of the moment.  

“yeah, i noticed,” he said, flashing you a wry grin despite the tension. “but humor me, darlin’. just this once.”  

the two of you moved cautiously toward the source of the sound, your flashlights dancing over moss-covered graves and weathered stone angels. the air grew colder the closer you got, your breath puffing out in visible clouds.  

then you saw it - a faint, ghostly figure hovering near an old, crumbling mausoleum. its features were obscured, but its presence was anything but subtle.  

“that’s gotta be our spirit,” dean said, his voice low.  

“looks like it’s guarding something,” you observed, nodding toward the mausoleum door.  

“the locket,” dean guessed.  

“how do we get past that thing without getting our faces ripped off?”  

“i distract it, you grab the locket,” he said simply, like it was the most obvious plan in the world.  

“oh, sure,” you said, rolling your eyes. “because splitting up always works so well for us.” when you looked up at, him he finally noticed the twinge of fear in your tired gaze.

“trust me, sweetheart,” dean said, flashing you a soft smile he hoped appeared reassuring. “i’ve got this.”  

against your better judgment, you let dean take the lead. he stepped into the spirit’s line of sight, his gun raised.  

“hey, casper!” he called out. “over here!”  

the ghost turned toward him, its hollow eyes locking onto his figure. it let out an unearthly wail that sent chills down your spine, then began moving toward him with an unnatural speed.  

“anytime now!” dean shouted, firing a round of rock salt to slow it down.  

you darted toward the mausoleum, shoving the heavy door open with all your strength. inside, the air was damp and musty, the faint smell of decay clinging to the walls.  

your flashlight landed on an old wooden box sitting atop a stone altar. you didn’t have time to think - you grabbed the box and pried it open, revealing the cursed locket inside.  

“got it!” you called out, stuffing the locket into your pocket and running back toward dean.  

the ghost was still focused on him, though it was clearly losing its patience. dean fired another shot of rock salt, sending it reeling.  

“move it, kid!” he yelled, glancing back at you.  

“i’m coming!” you shouted, skidding to a halt beside him.  

together, you pulled out matches and a small jar of accelerant. you didn’t waste a second, dousing the locket and striking a match.  

the moment the flames touched the cursed object, the ghost let out a piercing scream, its form disintegrating into a shower of sparks before disappearing entirely.  

“well, that was fun,” dean said, lowering his gun.  

“yeah, a real blast,” you replied, still catching your breath.  

he turned to you, his expression softening slightly. “you okay?”  

“yeah,” you said, nodding. “thanks for the save.”  

“always,” he said with a small smile, clapping you on the shoulder. “come on, let’s get out of here before something else decides to show up.”  

the drive back to the motel was quieter than usual. the adrenaline from the hunt had worn off, leaving you both exhausted.  

“you’re really bad at staying behind,” dean said suddenly, breaking the silence.  

“and you’re really bad at not playing the hero,” you shot back.  

he glanced at you, his expression somewhere between exasperation and fondness. “you’re gonna get yourself killed one day, you know that?”  

“not if you’re around to save me,” you said lightly, though there was an edge of truth to your words.  

he didn’t reply, but the way his grip on the steering wheel tightened said enough.  

back at the motel, you both collapsed onto your respective beds, the exhaustion from the hunt settling into your bones. the cheap, scratchy sheets were far from comfortable, but you barely noticed, too tired to care.  

“you want first shower?” dean asked, already kicking off his boots and wincing at the creak of the bed frame beneath him.  

“you take it,” you mumbled, waving him off and stifling a yawn. “i’ll just... lie here for a sec.”  

he paused, giving you a look. “you good? you’ve been dragging all day.”  

“just tired,” you said quickly, forcing a small smile. “nothing a shower and some sleep won’t fix.”  

dean didn’t seem convinced. “you sure? you’ve been looking... kinda rough.” his voice was softer now, almost hesitant. “when’s the last time you actually got a decent night’s sleep?”  

“i sleep,” you said, avoiding his gaze by focusing on the ceiling.  

“yeah, but do you sleep?” he pressed, gesturing vaguely with one hand. “like, real sleep. out cold. no tossing and turning. none of that zombie stuff.”  

“i’m fine, dean,” you said firmly, though your voice lacked any real bite.  

he lingered for a moment longer, clearly unconvinced but unsure what else to say. eventually, he grabbed a towel and disappeared into the bathroom with a quiet, “if you say so.”  

the sound of the shower running filled the silence, but your mind was louder. it wasn’t that you didn’t want to sleep - it was just that you couldn’t. not really. the hunts, the adrenaline, the nightmares - they all tangled together into a mess you couldn’t quite escape.  

you stared at the water-stained ceiling, your thoughts drifting back to the hunt and, inevitably, to dean. the way he’d thrown himself between you and that ghost without hesitation, his instincts sharper than anyone you’d ever met. it wasn’t just about the hunt; it was about him.  

you sighed, shaking your head at yourself. this wasn’t the time to overthink things.  

when dean emerged from the bathroom, steam trailing after him, his hair damp and sticking up at odd angles, you were still lying in the same spot.  

“your turn,” he said, tossing a towel onto your bed.  

you groaned, forcing yourself to sit up. “if i fall asleep in there, it’s your fault.”  

he smirked, stretching out on his bed and crossing his arms behind his head. “just don’t drown, sweetheart.”  

rolling your eyes, you dragged yourself into the bathroom, the hot water doing wonders for your sore muscles and the lingering chill from the hunt. by the time you came out, the room was dark, and dean was already passed out, one arm draped over his face.  

you stood there for a moment, watching the rise and fall of his chest, his face relaxed in a way you rarely got to see.  

“goodnight, dean,” you murmured softly, pulling a blanket over yourself as you sank onto your bed.  

as you lay there, the quiet hum of the motel settling around you, you tried to let the exhaustion take over. but your thoughts wouldn’t quiet, your body still on edge despite how tired you were.  

at some point, dean shifted, his voice groggy but unmistakable. “you okay?”  

“yeah,” you lied, turning onto your side to face the wall.  

“you sure?” his voice was softer now, thick with sleep.  

“get some rest, dean,” you mumbled, not trusting yourself to say more.  

“right back at you,” he muttered, the faintest hint of concern lingering in his tone before his breathing evened out again.  

you closed your eyes, willing yourself to follow his lead, even as your thoughts refused to let you.

a storm rolled in by the time you and dean reached the next job. thick, gray clouds churned overhead as rain hammered against the impala's windshield, the wipers working overtime. the cabin in question - a decrepit thing that looked more haunted than it probably was - loomed at the end of a dirt road.  

"of course it's in the middle of nowhere," you muttered, peering at it through the rain.  

"yeah, because monsters love suburban neighborhoods," dean said, his tone dripping with sarcasm as he parked the car.  

you snorted, unbuckling your seatbelt. "remind me again why we couldn’t tackle this in daylight?"  

"because the kid who called us swears the thing only shows up at night," he replied, grabbing his shotgun and tossing you a flashlight. "come on, sweetheart. we’ve got work to do."  

the inside of the cabin was worse than the outside. peeling wallpaper, creaky floors, and an unsettling number of broken mirrors made up the interior.  

"i'm guessing the shattered mirrors aren't just bad decorating choices," you said, shining your flashlight across the room.  

"nope," dean said. "sounds like we're dealing with a vengeful spirit. probably tied to one of these." he gestured to the shards of glass littering the floor.  

"great," you muttered. "so, we find the mirror, salt it, and burn it. easy enough."  

"you say that now," dean said, smirking as he headed toward the stairs. "but nothing's ever that easy, is it?"  

you split up to cover more ground - though not without a bit of grumbling on your part. it was horrible hunting without dean, the anxiety looming over you multiplying by a thousand. the cabin had two floors, plus a creepy basement you were hoping to avoid.  

"why do i always get stuck with the creepy basements?" you whined after him as he ascended the stairs.  

"because you're the rookie," dean shot back, his grin audible even from a distance.  

"oh, real mature," you muttered, making your way toward the basement door, sucking in as many deep breaths as you could manage.

the basement was every bit as awful as you’d imagined. damp, dark, and filled with cobwebs. your flashlight flickered as you descended the creaking stairs, and you swore under your breath.  

"if this thing jumps out at me, i’m leaving dean to deal with it solo," you muttered to yourself, sweeping the light across the room.  

you spotted an old, ornate mirror leaning against the far wall. it was cracked but still intact - a likely candidate for the spirit's anchor.  

"dean, i found something," you said into the walkie-talkie dean had insisted you carry.  

"copy that," came his reply. "on my way down. don't touch it."  

"wasn't planning on it, boss," you said, rolling your eyes even though he couldn’t see you.  

dean joined you a minute later, shotgun in hand. he gave the mirror a once-over, his expression hardening.  

"yep, that's the one," he said. "you got the salt?"  

you nodded, pulling the bag from your backpack.  

"good. i'll cover you," he said, positioning himself between you and the dark corners of the basement.  

"you know, for someone who calls me a rookie, you sure don’t trust me to handle things on my own," you teased, pouring the salt over the mirror.  

"nah, i trust you," he said, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "just don’t want you getting yourself killed. i'd miss you too much."  

the comment caught you off guard, and you glanced at him, trying to gauge if he was serious. but before you could say anything, the temperature in the room plummeted.  

a figure materialized behind dean - a translucent woman with hollow eyes and a twisted expression of rage.  

"dean!" you shouted, and he spun around just in time to fire a round of rock salt at her. the spirit screeched, vanishing into thin air.  

"you okay?" he asked, turning back to you.  

"yeah," you said, your heart pounding. "but she’s definitely not gone for good."  

"not until we burn this thing," dean said, nodding toward the mirror.  

you struck a match, lighting the accelerant you’d poured over the salt. the mirror went up in flames, and another anguished wail echoed through the basement before fading into silence.  

back upstairs, you and dean collapsed onto the dusty couch, both of you breathing heavily.  

"you know," you said, leaning your head back, "for a rookie, i think i did pretty well tonight."  

dean chuckled, running a hand through his hair. "yeah, you didn’t screw up too bad."  

"high praise," you said, feeling fatigue spread over you once more.

he glanced at you, his expression softening in that way that always caught you off guard. "i mean it," he said. "you did good, sweetheart."  

you couldn’t tell if it was the exhaustion or the way he said it, but something about the moment felt different. heavier.  

"thanks," you said softly, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious under his gaze.  

before either of you could say anything else, the walkie-talkie crackled to life.  

"hey, uh, guys?" sam’s voice came through, tinged with static. "you alive down there?"  

"barely," dean replied, grabbing the device. "but the spirit's toast. we'll meet you back at the motel."  

"got it," sam said.  

the drive back was quiet again, but this time, it wasn’t just the exhaustion. something unspoken lingered between you, making the silence feel heavier than usual.  

"so," you said finally, breaking the tension. "you think sam's gonna be mad we didn’t wait for him?"  

"nah," dean said, though his smirk suggested otherwise. "he’s used to it by now."  

you laughed, shaking your head. "poor guy."  

"hey, he knew what he was signing up for," dean said. "besides, he’s probably just glad you didn’t burn the whole cabin down."  

"oh, so now i’m a fire hazard?"  

"just saying, i’ve seen you with matches," he teased, and you couldn’t help but laugh again.  

back at the motel, sam was already poring over research for the next hunt.  

"how’d it go?" he asked, barely looking up.  

"spirit's gone," dean said, flopping onto one of the beds. "but the place was a real fixer-upper."  

"great," sam said, clearly not listening.  

"you know, you’re a terrible audience," you said, plopping down beside dean.  

sam hummed distractedly, still scrolling through his laptop.  

"don’t take it personally, sweetheart," dean said, grinning at you. "he’s just jealous he missed all the action."  

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling. despite the exhaustion, there was a strange warmth settling in your chest, one you weren’t quite ready to examine too closely.  

later that night, after sam had gone to bed, you and dean found yourselves sitting outside the motel, the night air cool and refreshing after the storm.  

“you still can’t sleep, huh? we really gotta get that checked out.” dean uttered, breaking the silence. “c’mon kid, what’s got your mind going so crazy?”

"you ever think about, you know, taking a break?" you asked, staring up at the stars, surprised with how he could always clock you so quickly.

"from hunting?" dean asked, raising an eyebrow.  

"yeah," you said. "just... doing something normal for once."  

he snorted. "normal’s overrated."  

"come on," you said, nudging him with your elbow. "you’ve never thought about it? not even a little?"  

he was quiet for a moment, his gaze fixed on the horizon. "maybe," he admitted finally. "but normal’s not in the cards for people like us."  

"i guess not," you said softly, though you couldn’t help but wish it were different.  

the conversation faded into a comfortable silence, the kind that didn’t need to be filled.  

"you know," dean said after a while, "you’re not half bad at this whole hunting thing."  

"high praise," you said, smiling faintly.  

"i mean it," he said, his tone more serious than you expected. "you’ve got guts. most people wouldn’t last a week in this life, but you - "  

he stopped, shaking his head like he wasn’t sure how to finish the thought.  

"but me?" you prompted, your heart pounding for reasons you didn’t quite understand.  

"but you’re different," he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.  

you didn’t know what to say to that, so you didn’t say anything. instead, you let the moment hang between you, heavy and unspoken but somehow perfect in its own way.  

the next hunt came quicker than expected - barely two days after the cabin job. a string of disappearances in a sleepy town near a dense forest had drawn your attention. while sam was still digging through lore, you and dean decided to scout the area.  

"we’ll take the impala and check out the woods," dean had said, tossing you your jacket.  

"because that worked so well last time," you quipped, zipping up your coat.  

"what can i say?" he said with a smirk. "i like to live dangerously."  

the forest was eerily quiet as the two of you trudged along a narrow dirt path. the afternoon sunlight barely filtered through the thick canopy of leaves above, casting the area in a dim, golden haze.  

"you know," you said, stepping over a fallen branch, "i don’t think i’ve ever seen you willingly go for a hike. kind of nice to see you in your natural habitat."  

dean shot you a look. "i’ll have you know i’m very outdoorsy."  

"oh, sure," you said, grinning. "nothing says 'man of the wilderness' like a guy who packs cheeseburgers for every meal."  

"hey, those cheeseburgers keep me alive," he said, pretending to be offended. "besides, you’re one to talk. what’s in your backpack right now? candy bars?"  

"no comment," you said, giggling as he shook his head.  

you reached a clearing after about an hour of walking. the ground was covered in strange markings - symbols carved into the dirt, arranged in an ominous circle.  

"well, that’s not creepy at all," you muttered, crouching to get a closer look.  

dean knelt beside you, his brow furrowed. "witchcraft, maybe?"  

"maybe," you said. "but why the forest? wouldn’t a house or barn make more sense?"  

"maybe they like the fresh air," he said, scanning the area with his flashlight. "either way, we need to be careful. whoever’s behind this probably doesn’t want us poking around."  

"yeah, no kidding," you said, standing up and brushing dirt off your hands.  

the rest of the day was spent investigating the clearing, but the markings didn’t offer many clues. frustrated, you and dean decided to head back to the motel.  

"we’ll regroup with sam, see if he’s found anything," dean said as you walked back to the car.  

"do you think this one’s human?" you asked, wide eyed with expectation.

he glanced at you, his jaw tight. "maybe. but something about it feels... off. i don’t like it."  

you nodded, falling silent. his instincts were rarely wrong, and if dean was uneasy, you knew better than to dismiss it.  

back at the motel, sam had made some progress.  

"the symbols in the clearing - they’re part of a summoning ritual," he explained, showing you a dusty old book.  

"great," dean said, flopping onto the bed. "so, what are we dealing with? demons? spirits? something worse?"  

sam hesitated, glancing between the two of you. "it’s a summoning ritual for a wendigo."  

your stomach dropped.  

"a wendigo?" you repeated. "seriously?"  

"yeah," sam said grimly. "and if the markings in that clearing are any indication, they’re close to finishing the ritual."  

"perfect," dean muttered, rubbing a hand over his face. 

the plan was simple: return to the forest, disrupt the ritual, and kill the wendigo if it had already been summoned.  

"simple," you said, your tone dry as you loaded your shotgun.  

"hey, it’s worked before," dean said, smirking as he handed you a flare gun.  

"yeah, and almost got us killed before," you shot back, though you couldn’t help the fearful expression that broke out on your face.

"what can i say?" he said, shrugging. "we’re good at not dying."  

the forest felt different this time - heavier, like the air itself was charged with something dark and unnatural.  

"stay close," dean said, his voice low.  

"i definitely wasn’t planning on wandering off," you replied, gripping your shotgun tightly.  

he shot you a quick glance, his expression softer than you expected. "just... stay close, okay?"  

"okay," you said quietly, feeling your heart skip a beat.  

the clearing was empty when you arrived, but the symbols on the ground glowed faintly, pulsing with an eerie red light.  

"that’s new," dean said, his jaw tightening.  

"you think the ritual’s already started?" you asked.  

"probably," he said, scanning the area. "we need to move fast."  

you started disrupting the symbols, kicking dirt over them while dean poured salt and lighter fluid around the edges.  

"almost done," you said, glancing over at him.  

but before he could respond, a bloodcurdling roar echoed through the forest.  

"guess that answers that," dean muttered, raising his shotgun.  

the wendigo burst into the clearing, its pale, emaciated form moving with unnatural speed.  

"stay back!" dean shouted, firing a shot that barely slowed it down.  

you raised your flare gun, aiming for its chest, but the creature was too fast. before you could fire, it lunged at dean, knocking him to the ground.  

"dean!" you screamed, panic surging through you.  

he rolled out of the way just in time, his shotgun skidding across the ground.  

"shoot it!" he shouted, and you didn’t hesitate.  

the flare hit the wendigo square in the chest, igniting it in a burst of flames. it screeched, thrashing wildly before collapsing into a smoldering heap.  

dean scrambled to his feet, his breathing ragged.  

"you okay?" you asked, rushing to his side.  

"yeah," he said, wincing as he rolled his shoulder. "you?"  

"fine," you said, though your hands were still trembling.  

he gave you a once-over, his eyes lingering on yours. "you did good, sweetheart."  

the drive back was quiet, the adrenaline slowly fading. when you finally reached the motel, sam was waiting anxiously.  

"did you - "  

"it’s dead," dean said, cutting him off.  

sam sighed in relief, but his attention quickly shifted to the way dean’s hand lingered protectively on your waist as you headed inside.  

later that night, as you sat outside the motel again, dean joined you, a beer in hand.  

"that was really scary. are you sure you’re okay?” you admitted, breaking the silence.  

"‘m fine, sweetheart,”  he said, his tone soft.  

"i know," you said, glancing at him. "but still."  

he met your gaze, something unspoken passing between you. "you know, you’ve got guts," he said, echoing his words from before.  

"so you’ve said," you replied, smiling faintly.  

he shook his head, his expression turning serious. "i mean it. you’re different. special."  

your breath caught, and for a moment, you couldn’t speak.  

"dean - "  

"just let me say it," he said, cutting you off.  

you nodded, your heart pounding.  

"i’ve been doing this job a long time," dean said, his voice low, almost like he was thinking out loud. "and i’m not exactly the kind of guy who’s good at this stuff, but… i like you. more than i probably should."  

your heart skipped a beat, your breath catching in your throat, but you stayed quiet, letting him keep going.  

"it’s not just because you’re super fucking cool or because you can keep up with me," he added, a small smirk tugging at his lips before fading. "it’s because you’re the one person who makes all this crap we deal with feel… worth it."  

his gaze locked on yours, steady and serious. "i don’t know what that says about me, but i know i don’t want to screw this up."  

tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you bit your lip, refusing to let them fall.  

"i… i don’t know what to say," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the pounding in your chest.  

"you don’t have to say anything," he replied, his lips twitching into a small, nervous smile. 

but you did anyway. "i feel the same way, dean," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.  

his lips quirked into a small smile. "yeah, baby?"  

"yeah," you said, and before you could overthink it, you leaned in, pressing your lips to his.  

the first kiss had barely ended, and you still felt breathless, the taste of him lingering like honey. you pulled back just enough to meet dean’s eyes, your hands still clutching the front of his jacket as if letting go wasn’t an option. he looked at you with a softness that felt rare, his usual bravado replaced by something raw, unguarded.  

"so," you began, trying to find words that didn’t feel ridiculous in a moment like this, "i - "  

but dean leaned in again, cutting you off with another kiss, this one slower but somehow even more consuming.  

"dean," you mumbled against his lips, trying to catch a breath, but his hands cupped your jaw, tilting your face up toward him as if the conversation could wait - like anything else in the world could matter right now.  

"mm-hmm?" he hummed, not pulling back. his mouth moved to the corner of your lips, then your cheek, trailing down to your jaw.  

"i’m trying to - " you started again, only to dissolve into laughter as he pressed a kiss to the spot just below your ear, his stubble grazing your skin in a way that sent a shiver down your spine.  

"nah, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice low and teasing. "you’re not trying to do anything but stay right here."  

you laughed harder, the sound bright and almost giddy, your chest shaking against his. you couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt this light, this happy.  

"dean," you said again, still giggling, "let me talk!"  

"nope," he said, his grin audible even as he kissed the side of your neck. "’m way too busy."  

"dean!" you squealed, trying to push him back, but he was relentless, his arms wrapping around your waist to keep you close.  

"what could possibly be more important than this?" he asked, finally pulling back just enough to look at you. his smile was cocky, but his eyes were warm, filled with a tenderness that made your stomach flip.  

you opened your mouth to respond, but instead, a strange mix of a laugh and a sob came out, and suddenly you were crying - just a little, just enough that he noticed.  

his face changed immediately, his smile dropping as he cupped your face with both hands, his thumbs brushing away the tears that had escaped.  

"hey," he said softly, his brows knitting together. "what’s wrong? fuck… ‘m sorry baby, i - "  

you shook your head quickly, the absurdity of the question making you laugh again, even as more tears fell. "no, no, it’s not that. i’m not upset, i swear."  

"you’re crying, sweetheart," he said, his voice low and concerned. "that usually means something’s wrong."  

"i’m happy, you idiot," you said, laughing through the tears.  

he blinked, his hands still holding your face, as if trying to process the words. "happy?"  

"yes, happy," you said, your voice cracking a little as he wiped at your cheeks. "like... stupidly, ridiculously happy. i just - i didn’t think this would ever happen."  

his expression softened in a way that made your heart ache. "you really thought i wouldn’t want this?"  

"i didn’t know," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "i mean, it’s not like you’re exactly forthcoming with your feelings, dean."  

he let out a breathy laugh, his forehead pressing gently against yours. "yeah, well, you’re not wrong there."  

his hands slid down to your waist, holding you close as he looked at you, his green eyes searching your face like he was trying to commit every detail to memory.  

"but for the record," he said, his voice serious now, "this? you? it’s all i’ve wanted for a long time."  

your breath caught, and before you could respond, he was kissing you again, his lips soft but insistent, as if he was making up for lost time.  

this time, you didn’t try to pull back or say anything. you just let yourself fall into it, your fingers tangling in his hair as his hands slid up your back, holding you like you might disappear if he let go.  

when he finally broke the kiss, his lips barely left yours, and he stayed close enough that you could feel his breath against your skin.  

"still happy?" he asked, a teasing edge creeping back into his voice.  

you laughed, your forehead resting against his. "stupidly, ridiculously happy."  

"good," he said, his hands slipping under the hem of your shirt to rest against your waist, his touch warm and grounding. "because i’m not letting you go now, sweetheart."  

"bold of you to assume i’d want you to," you teased, smiling up at him.  

"damn right," he said, his grin returning as he leaned in for another kiss, and this time, you didn’t even try to stop him.  

ᰔ dean winchester : @person-005

taglist form linked in pinned post :3

[weirdogirl888]

temptations part one

dealer!donnie x reader

after being busted, donnie’s reputation as the schools dealer flourishes. but what he hadn’t expected, was for his crush wanting to push the boundaries of sobriety, aswell as his struck rule

don’t fuck the customers.

wc: 4.5k

warnings: smoking, mentions of sex, sexual innuendo, donnie is a loser perv lol

it was another boring day in english. donnie already finished the work and had let his mind wonder. he looked over to see you sitting next to him, equally as bored. donnie had had a crush on you for a while. your soft shiny hair and gorgeous figure made his head spin and schools required trousers to tighten.

you sat staring at the board in a daze, big eyes and long lashes looking past the board and into the field of your imagination. you innocently chewed on your pencil that rested in between your plump lips. donnie was entranced.

he watched how your skirt rid up when you crossed your legs. and how the fat of your thighs spilled out of your black stockings that rode all the way down to your marry jane clad feet.

god how he wanted you. he wants you to be his, he hated the idea of you being with another boy besides him. sure how he made money was illegal. but that just shows how good of a provider he could be! how much he was willing to do to make sure you didn’t have to worry about the money for your next shopping spree. how he was smart enough to have you never be stressed over homework again. not that you ever were. you were extremely smart, a attribute donnie highly admired about you.

as his brain kept stirring, his thoughts got ever more gross. he thought about how’d you look bent over in the old creaky desk chair you were sitting in just next to him. how your hair would smell when it was right by his nose when he rested his head in the crook of his neck while pounding into you. what sounds you’d let out from pure bliss from just him.

as if an angel came sent down from heaven, you turned your head into his direction. your eyes met his blue pearls as your face twisted into embarrassment as you had caught him staring. his hungry gaze met yours and before you could say anything the bell had run signaling lunch. donnie was the last to leave. he had to calm himself down before standing up and facing embarrassment from his already growing boner. a reacouring accurance that the teen boy faced often at school. what a perv.

during lunch donnie stood with his usually group behind the school. where all the delinquents would go to smoke and where he’d get the most business. his friends were talking about the same usual bullshit when you popped out of no where.

“can i bum one?” you say staring at him through your lashes. which was quiet easy, the height diffrence between you two was what always made him go weak.

“uh yea sure yeah.” he said flustered. you giggled.

he brought the cigarette up to you and was confused as you still stood unmoving. then you parted your lips and understanding set in. donnie brought the smoke up to your lips and lit it with his black lighter, you still held your eye contact.

“you’re becoming pretty popular as a dealer darko, you got any of that stuff for me?” you? asking him? for drugs? maybe he shouldn’t be suprised, i mean he is the plug. but such a sweet girl like you buying from him was hardly expected. this was a rare opportunity. he had to be cunning and play his cards right.

“i do, but i don’t bring my stuff to class, what you doing after school?”

“nothing” you say swirling your hair and taking another hit.

“you can come by afterschool, my parents won’t be home.”

“so we can make noise then yeah?”

donnie blushed, could you be into him too? doubtful.

“y-yeah i guess so. meet me at the front afterschool okay?”

“alright sure, see ya donnie.” you say before shoving the rest of the cigarette between his lips and prancing away. when you were a few feet away you turned your head to see if he was still staring. which he so painfully was, but could you help him? the way your hips swayed and how your skirt just barely covered your ass had him beat.

the day passed torturously slow, donnie sat in most of his classes thinking about what you said earlier

make noise? what could she mean by that?

he couldn’t tell if your induendo meant something he’d never thought he’d get. or maybe you said it on purpose just to get him riled up. which he thought was the case. how could a goddess like you be into a freak like him? most girls only saw him as the crazy drug addict. but maybe you were diffrent. he hoped you were.

you stood chewing your gum and rocking your feet back and forth nervously awaiting donnie who would come out of school any second. in all honestly, you’ve never done anything harder than a cigarette. you were sure nervous. but if it was a way to get into donnie’s bedroom, you’d do anything.

thanks for reading part one! if this gets 40 likes i’ll make another, or i’ll just do it anyway. hope you enjoyed hehehe

[munsonhoneybaby]

Dustin Doesn't Know | Eddie Munson X F!Henderson!Reader

Summary: As things with Eddie start to go farther and farther, you worry how your relationship would impact Dustin if he found out.

Word Count: 7k

Warnings: 18+ mdni, drug use (marijuana), stoner!reader, smut, fwb-esque, oral (m and f receiving), balls??, fingering, p in v (protected), praise, implied subspace?? idk if that was coming across tho???

A/N: there’s a lot of stuff about reader that i’m super vague on because i’m thinking of explaining it more in the final part or maybe additional drabbles and stuff like that (she is adopted tho). i really hope that this chapter lives up to the hype and praise that the first one got since it’s taken me three months to update lol. as always lmk if i missed anything in the warnings.

part one | finale | tmic masterlist

When you heard the soft groan of your window slowly sliding open, you couldn’t hold back the grin that spread across your face. Turning around, you were met with Eddie maneuvering his lean body through the window; it wasn’t quite as awkward as you’d expected, but he certainly wasn’t as silent as he’d hoped to be as his feet thudded on your carpeted floor.

“Not too bad, Munson. You’re definitely lucky being a heavy sleeper runs in the Henderson DNA, though.” As you face him completely, he holds out a baggie of weed and a small box. 

Eyebrows furrowing, you took it to examine it further as he explained. “It’s uh– incense. I noticed you lit some last time, figured it was for the smell.”

“Yeah, makes it a little easier for Mom to pretend she doesn’t know.” Opening the package, you placed one of the sticks in the holder and lit the end. “That’s really sweet, Eddie, thank you.”

“Hope the scent is alright ‘n everything, I didn’t really know what you like.” Shrugging his jacket off, he tossed it over the back of the chair at your desk.

Suppressing a smile, you bent down to the drawer next to him to get out your tray and paper again, “It’s actually one of my favorites.”

“Oh,” He seemed pleasantly surprised, but he kept his head down as he took a seat at your desk. “Good.”

“What’re you doing?”

“I’m gonna roll? Why? What’s it look like I’m doing?”

Flicking the back of his head, you replied, “Suit yourself then, smartass. I was gonna do it this time, but never mind.”

“Jeez, touchy,” He huffed playfully as he swatted your hand away. “I don’t mind rolling, I’d be doing it if I were at home right now anyway. Your only job is to sit there and look pretty for me, alright?”

“A little demeaning, but I think I can handle it,” You sighed dramatically. Much like last time, you stretched yourself out on the bed, lying on your stomach as you watched him roll the joint. His fingers handled the paper so delicately, knowing exactly how to roll and pinch it without threatening to rip it. Every now and then one of his rings would drag or clink against the wood of your desk, and you couldn’t help but squeeze your thighs together as you remembered the way the cool metal had felt against your hot skin.

“So, how’ve you been doing?” He placed the finished joint between his lips and held his lighter to it as he claimed the first long drag of the night. “I haven’t seen you in a minute.”

“I really am sorry about that,” You answered bashfully. “I didn’t mean for that to happen, I swear I don’t usually do stuff like that.”

“What? You mean invite in guys you hardly know to make ‘em dinner and let ‘em finger you?” Wearing a massive smirk, he held the joint out to you. You accepted it but huffed embarrassedly and his smirk only grew. “Nothin’ to be ashamed of, babe. Christ knows I’m reliving every second, I could recite every gory detail back to you.”

“I don’t know why you’re reliving it. You made me come, got blue balls, and went home.”

“So? Making you come is like seventy-five percent of the fun. Jerking off’ll make up for missing the rest,” He shrugged.

“You really don’t hold anything back, huh?” You croaked around a chestful of smoke.

“Maybe I just don’t feel like I have to with you.” You couldn’t tell if that statement went deeper than this conversation. “Should I?”

“You don’t have to hold anything back with me, Eddie,” You answered honestly. “As long as you behave around my brother.”

He pointed a finger toward you in warning as his lips curled mischievously, “I’ll remember you said that.”

Rolling your eyes, you take a couple extra hits from the joint before passing it back. He watched as you laid back on the bed, closing your eyes and slowly exhaling, the smoke billowing upwards. Eyes wandering down your body, he took in the way your shirt had rolled up to show the flesh of your tummy, how the band of your thong peeked out of your pajama pants– a different pair than last time– and accentuated the dip of your waist. He wondered how many people had gotten to see you like this; he wondered if they really appreciated it. 

“You’re about to get ash on my carpet and I’m gonna have to kick your ass,” You spoke abruptly, breaking him from his reverie.

“I’m shaking, babe,” He monotoned as he ashed it in the tray.

“You should be.”

“What’s with you, hm?” He stood and placed the joint between his lips, lifting his arms to stretch his back and shoulders. His voice was teasing as he stepped toward your bed, toward you.“Bein’ so mean to me today. You know, you were a lot nicer the last time we smoked together.”

Scooting over to make room for him on the bed, your eyes caught on the faint trail of hair leading into his jeans before lifting to meet his. Reaching out to take the joint back, you said, “‘M not being mean. Just keeping you in line, Munson.”

Crawling into the bed beside you, he settled on his side, head resting in his hand. “Probably a good idea.” Hoping his fingers weren’t twitching with nerves, he slowly grazed them over the soft skin of your stomach. “You know I’m always gettin’ into trouble.”

“I guess I’ll just have to keep an eye on you,” You posited, taking yet another long drag.

“A close one,” He hummed in agreement. His touch moved up your stomach, raising goosebumps in its wake as your head slumped against his shoulder. “This okay?”

Though you were leaning into his touch, you asked, “Do you think this is a bad idea?”

Eddie’s hand froze and he leaned back slightly to try to look at you. “What? What do you mean? Do you think it is?”

You didn’t meet his eyes. “I don’t know. You’re just so important to Dustin and I don’t want to change the way he sees you. I would never want something between us to affect your relationship with him.”

“In the nicest way possible, babe–” He brushed your hair back from your face, finally locking eyes with you. “You worry too much. We’re both adults, alright? Even if something were to happen, I wouldn’t let Dustin get caught in that. We’d work around it, y’know? I think we could be mature about it. If things went bad, that is– and I mean, I don’t really think they would–”

You stretched your neck to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. Careful of the now-unlit joint still in your hand, you squeezed his side. “You’re probably right, Eds.” Your lips trailed to his jaw, lined with a light smile. “I won’t worry about it anymore tonight, I didn’t mean to get you worked up.”

His cheeks flushed and he mumbled only half-jokingly, “‘M not worked up. Just don’t want you runnin’ out on me just yet, you’re actually kinda cool.”

Your eyes softened and your hand slid from his side to his chest, “I won’t go anywhere, Eddie. You don’t have to worry about that. Now,” Pressing against his chest, you urged him onto his back so you could straddle his thighs. He bit down on his lower lip, looking up at you with eager eyes. Slipping your hand into his jeans pocket for his lighter, you continued, “Enough with the heavy. We still have half a joint to finish and I seem to remember getting interrupted in the middle of something important the last time you were here.”

“You know, you really don’t have to feel obligated,” He reminded you. Still, his hands immediately wandered from your thighs, up your sides, and back.

“Who said I felt obligated, hm?” The pads of your fingers brushed his lips as you placed the lit joint between them. “Maybe I’ve just really been looking forward to making you come.”

A cloud of smoke rolled from his mouth as he groaned, clutching your hips to draw you further toward him. “Fuck, keep talking like that and it’s gonna happen way too soon, sweet thing. Been thinkin’ about it, huh?”

“Haven’t stopped thinking about it since you left,” You answered. “About what you’d do when you got home.”

“Yeah?” His hand crept beneath your shirt, running up your spine before guiding you closer. “That’s cute, baby. Thought about me stroking my cock and thinkin’ how much better that pretty pussy would feel instead? You didn’t touch yourself after I left, did you?”

Hips already grinding down against his, you lightly pinched his side. “None of your business.”

“Wait, seriously? I was just fucking around, did you actually make yourself come thinking about me beating off?”

Your head fell back and you let out a laugh that was way too loud for the time of the night. “Eddie, what the fuck?”

He said your name, tone far more serious than his statement required. “You have no idea how fucking hot that is. You’re actually about to make me bust in my pants.”

“Well don’t, alright? We were just getting to the good part when somebody got sidetracked,” You teased. Leaning down, you let your lips graze his and smiled. “Let me make you feel as good as you made me feel, yeah?” After pressing a quick peck to his lips, you sat up. “Take off your shirt.”

“Bossy,” He muttered with false exasperation. As he yanked his shirt over his head and whipped it across the room, he felt your hands drift to the button of his jeans. He tilted his chin to kiss you deeper than before. 

“Of course, you have more tattoos,” You huffed.

He might have asked if that was a problem if he hadn’t picked up on the subtle whine behind your voice. “Mmm, should’a known you’d dig the tatties. I’ll give you a tour later, huh, sweetheart? Wouldn’t wanna get sidetracked again, would we?”

“You’re a jackass, y’know that?”

“I think I’ve been told once or twice, yeah.” Hand framing your jaw, his rings pressed into one side of your neck as his left slow, open-mouthed kisses along the other. “Pretty baby,” He hummed lowly against your ear. “Bein’ so good to me.”

“You still haven’t let me show you how good I can be,” You replied breathily. 

“I just keep on distractin’ you, huh?” He pressed a couple playful kisses to your lips before asking, “Want me to let you get back to work?” Before he’d even finished his sentence, you were unzipping his jeans and scooting backward to tug them past his hips.

“Fuck, I knew you’d be big,” You whined as you eyed the outline of his length within the confines of his boxers.

“I’ll try not to let that go to my head,” He jested with a smirk. 

“I’m sure it will anyway. That’s okay though, your confidence isn’t misplaced, Eds.” When you finally pulled his boxers down, you practically had to bite down on your lip to stifle a moan at the sight. His cock twitched against his lower abdomen, precome almost dripping into the hair there. “Eddie, shit. Gonna taste so good.”

The way his length jumped at the sound of your voice almost had you drooling. He held your hair back from your face, thumb rubbing over your cheek as your hand wrapped around his base. “So fuckin’ dirty, gettin’ all desperate to suck my cock. Go on, baby, I won’t keep you waiting anymore.”

“I think I’m the one who’s s’posed to be saying that,” You hummed. Leaning forward, you let spit drip from your lip to the head, slowly stroking him. 

“Don’t sweat it, you’re worth holding out for.” His words already held a faint pant. As your tongue traced his length he tightened his grip on your hair. When your lips finally wrapped around him, his mouth fell open, a shaky breath escaping him as he hits the back of your throat. “Shit, definitely worth it.” Eyes glazed, he watched how your cheeks hollowed around him, how your lashes fluttered as you kept your eyes down. “Look at me, sweet thing. Gimme those eyes.” Nervously doing as he asked, your gaze locked with his and he stifled a groan. “Too fuckin’ pretty.” 

His hand still sweetly held your hair back from your face as you let his cock slip from your spit-soaked lips, mouthing sloppy kisses along it until you reached his balls. Your tongue laved across one and his eyes rolled back, head falling against your pillows. “What the fuck,” He groaned incredulously. “You’re fucking unreal. I have to be dreaming right now.”

“Vivid dreamer,” You quipped lowly.

Smirk never leaving his face, he tugged lightly at your hair, drawing a small gasp from you. “Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had this dream, sweetheart. Definitely never felt this good before, though.”

“Glad I’m living up to your expectations, Munson.” Taking him back into your mouth, the musky taste of his precome coated your tongue. The moan he fought to hold back became a whimper as you lapped up every drop. Resisting the urge to gag, you bobbed your head further until your nose brushed the dark curls around his base. Your nails dragged lightly over the ink winding around his hipbone, making them jerk in response. 

“You have no idea,” A whine was beginning to leak into his tone. “‘M already close, baby. You’re s’fucking good. Such a good girl for me.” Hand cradling the back of your head, his hips rutted carefully to meet your movements. Nails digging into his hips encouragingly, you tried to keep your eyes on him as the rise and fall of his chest grew more rapid. “Fuck, you’re g’nna make me come.” You moaned eagerly, vibrations making his thighs tense. 

Not wanting to pull your hair too hard, Eddie clutched your bedding instead. His other hand formed a fist which he bit down on, huffing out ragged breaths around it in an attempt to keep quiet. You could feel his cock twitch as his come filled your mouth and a tremor ran through his body as he watched you swallow all of it.

He was still panting as you crawled to his level, planting a far-too-sweet kiss on his lips and smiling. Shaking his head, he breathed, “Too fuckin’ good.”

“Happy to return the favor.”

“Fuck favors.” His hand found a home in your hair again as he pulled you in for a heated kiss. His free hand lifted your shirt until you leaned back so he could tug it over your head. “I just want you. Are you alright with that?” You just looked into his eyes for a moment– silently communicating something that you weren’t sure either of you fully understood– before your lips met his again, reaching behind your back to unclasp your bra. Calloused fingertips brushed down the sensitive skin of your neck and over your chest to your nipples. You shivered, goosebumps pebbling your skin as he teased them with the pads of his thumbs. Your mouth fell open against his and his teeth nipped your lower lip. Trailing a few kisses along your jaw, he murmured, “Pretty baby.”

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps in the hallway followed by the bathroom door creaking made you both freeze. You glanced at your bedroom doorknob to ensure it was locked before you and Eddie both eyed the alarm clock on your nightstand. It was almost a quarter past three in the morning and Dustin would be getting up for school in less than four hours.

“That’s my cue, isn’t it?” He pouted.

“I think so,” You sighed. Lifting your hips, you allowed him to fix his boxers and jeans before he handed you your shirt. “We can hang out again soon though, okay?”

“Yeah,” He snorted, crawling out of your bed to search the other side of the room for his own shirt. “‘Hang out’. ‘Cause I do this with all my friends, y’know?”

“I’m sorry, do you want me to say you can sneak in my window for head again?”

Laughing, he pulled his shirt over his head and slipped his shoes back on before walking back over to you. His hands cradled your jaw, tilting your head back so he could look into your eyes from where he stood between your legs. “Maybe I wanna give you head next time, hm? How ‘bout that?”

Body heating embarrassedly, you tried to look anywhere but his eyes. “I’ll consider it.”

“Mmm, good.” He pressed a long, slow kiss to your lips before hesitantly pulling back. “I’ve got a lot to think about until the next time I see you.”

“I’ll call you, okay?” 

Grinning, he swiped his thumb over your cheek one last time before he headed for your window. “I’ll be waiting, Henderson.” He ducked back out the window and you peeked your head out after him. Throwing you a quick wink, he started to cut across the yard where he must have parked a few doors down, lighting a cigarette on his way. This was far from the last time Eddie Munson would make an escape from your window.

Letting out another sigh, you kicked off your pajama pants and climbed back into bed. After spending nearly an hour tossing and turning, your hand found its way between your legs, seeking relief so you could finally fall asleep.

Nearly four weeks later, you were watching TV in the living room when the boys came in after school. Dustin threw himself down on the couch with a loud groan while Lucas and Mike both sat down with much less dramatic frustration. “I just don’t understand why they can’t rehearse somewhere else, Hellfire uses the same room every week and they’ve already kicked us out once!”

“Well, it is the drama room and they are rehearsing for the school musical,” You reminded him, going to the kitchen. He grumbled something unintelligible in response as you poured glasses of water for all three boys. “You guys could always have Hellfire here again. Gives Mom a reason to get out of the house and I don’t mind having you guys as long as you don’t totally trash the basement.”

There was a brief pause before he spoke again, cautiously. “...Will you make snacks ‘n stuff?”

Rolling your eyes, you ruffled his hair which made him swat at your hand as you answered. “I suppose I could do something like that. I’m not making anything extravagant though. Let me know if there are any allergies I should know about.”

“Should someone call and ask Eddie?” Lucas piped up. “You know how he can get. He probably won’t like not having his throne again.”

“Eddie would probably have Hellfire here every week if he could,” Mike scoffed. After a none-too-subtle look from Lucas though, he glanced at Dustin, then you, and seemed to think better of it. “‘Cause of the uh- snacks, y’know.”

“Right, anyways–” Lucas took over, inconspicuously trying to guide the conversation back on track. “Someone should probably call him and let him know so he can tell the rest of the guys.”

Over the course of the past month, Eddie had snuck in a grand total of three times, and between these secret smoke sessions you managed to squeeze in conversation at the weekly Hellfire meetings. You called him every now and then when no one else was home, but that was it. While you suspected he’d told Jeff and Gareth, you definitely didn’t believe he would say anything to Lucas or Mike. Whatever suspicions they had, you just hoped they wouldn’t share them with Dustin.

You raised an eyebrow at the two of them questioningly and, in almost perfect sync, they stood and said, “I’ll do it!” You still had no idea how they got away with lying to their parents so often.

You suppressed a smile as you heard Iron Maiden’s “Phantom of the Opera” slowly growing louder until Eddie’s van creaked to a halt in your driveway the next week. The music cut out, replaced by voices and doors slamming. He didn’t even knock before he walked in, Jeff and Gareth in tow. Wearing a wide grin, his dimples were on full display as he leaned across the counter separating the front room from the kitchen. “Heard all this was your idea. You obsessed with me or somethin’, Henderson?”

“Excuse me for trying to be a good big sister, I’ll let them kick you to the basement with newspaper and AV club next week.”

He opened his mouth to respond but got distracted when he caught sight of just how much food you made. It looked like you were hosting a potluck; there were three different crockpots plugged in, at least four covered pots on the stovetop, and countless bowls and foil-covered plates scattered across the countertops. “Woah.”

“Did you make all this?” Jeff asked as he stepped into the kitchen.

“Yeah, I hope you didn’t eat anything before you came. I may have gone a little overboard.” 

The three of them grabbed paper plates and Gareth chimed, “How long were you cooking?”

“I don’t know uh– since around ten this morning? It’s really not a big deal. Dustin was at school all day and Mom was at work and I had the day off anyway, figured I had nothing better to do.” You shrugged, turning to get a few glasses out of the cabinet for them. “You can drink whatever outta the fridge. The boys are already downstairs digging in, of course.”

“Thank you, you really didn’t have to do so much. We would’ve been thrilled for a couple bags of chips and a two-liter.”

“Yeah, seriously. Thank you,” Jeff added, he and Gareth piling their plates high.

“It’s my pleasure, guys. Really.”

Eddie’s plate was still empty in his hand, waiting up for them to head to the basement so he could get a moment alone with you. The other two noticed, exchanging a knowing glance before making their way toward the basement door. “We’ll go ahead and start setting up.”

“Thanks, I’ll be down in a sec,” Eddie nodded. When the door closed behind them, he set his plate back down on the counter. “They’re right, you really didn’t have to do all this, sweetheart.”

“Gave me something to do with my day,” You insisted. “You’d better eat some or you’ll hurt my feelings.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m gonna eat. You’ll be lucky if there are leftovers.” He spared a glance at the basement door before his hands found the counter on either side of you, trapping you between his arms. “Maybe tonight I can come back for dessert?”

“I already made cookies and peach cream puffs–”

He interrupted you with a laugh, “C’mon, now you’re practically setting me up for it.” You shoved at his shoulder, fighting back another smile, and he leaned closer anyway. “How about I just come back to thank you for all your hard work then?”

Tilting your chin up, you pressed a soft kiss to his lips and replied, “How about you make your plate and eat your food first and I’ll think about it?”

“I’m already on it. I’ll get seconds, too. I’ll get fuckin’ thirds, babe, you’ll see. The way to my heart is through my stomach.”

“Save the theatrics for the game downstairs, hm? They’re waiting on you.”

“You in a hurry to get rid of me or something?” He asked, maybe two-thirds playfully. 

“You’re here for Dustin is all,” You shrugged, toying with a loose thread on his Hellfire tee. “He’s expecting you down there and you know how he is, he won’t have any problem asking me questions about what takes us so long when we see each other.”

His thumb rubbed careful circles against your upper arm. “I really think you’re reading too much into it. You’re his big sister looking out for him and I’m the head of his school club, we’ve got plenty of stuff to talk about. Dustin’s not gonna notice  if we make conversation for a few minutes whenever we see each other.” His tone grew more joking as he added, “Besides, I seem to remember being owed a certain phone call that I’ve yet to receive.”

“It’s been a week. I can’t sneak you in every night, alright?”

“You would if you could though, right?” He smirked.

Shoving him away, you rolled your eyes. “Alright, Eddie the Banished is now officially banished from my kitchen. Get your food and go downstairs.”

His eyes narrow at you as he started making his plate. Between crunches, he spoke around a mouthful of chips. “You’re a bully, you know that?” 

Grabbing a roll of paper towels, you tucked it under his arm for him to take down to the rest of the boys. “Just make sure you all clean up after yourselves and maybe I’ll let you come back over after Dustin goes to Mike’s.”

“You drive a hard bargain, babe.” He stole a quick kiss before making his way toward the basement door. “But you’ve got yourself a deal. I’ll try and keep the noise down.”

“No, you won’t.”

“No, I won’t.”

When he left about two and a half hours later, he only drove two blocks away, circling around long enough for the younger boys to have ridden their bikes away from the Henderson house. “I could get used to usin’ the front door,” He chimed as he strolled back in. “Think I pulled a muscle squeezing through your window last time.”

Having changed into an old Judas Priest tee and pajama shorts, you were sealing the last few containers of leftovers and putting them in the fridge. “Uh oh, should I start looking for a new dealer?”

“See, that? Mean. So mean.”

“How about I let you go ahead to my room and light the joint sitting on my nightstand? Would I be less mean then?”

He frowned, taking a step in your direction instead. “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay and help you clean up?”

“I’m already almost done, it’ll just be a minute. Promise.”

“If you say so,” He drawled as he headed down the hall to your room. The door creaked as it closed halfway behind him and he looked around your room yet again. He liked being in here, being surrounded by you. He hoped you wouldn’t find it rude that he opened the drawer he’d seen you keep your incense in, lighting a stick and placing it in the holder. The radio was already turned down low when he turned it on, a cassette of Black Sabbath still inside. Then he cracked open the window, taking off his shoes and jacket afterward. 

Holding the joint between his lips, he lit it and tossed the lighter on the bed before continuing to look around. A few necklaces were hooked over the corner of the mirror that hung on your wall. Mascara, rings, and a couple pairs of earrings were left out on your vanity. On your dresser, there was a framed picture of you and Dustin in the Hawkins middle school, your arm around his shoulders as he flaunted a science fair ribbon enthusiastically to the camera. Bottles of lotion and perfume sat beside it and he was obviously lacking a healthy level of self-restraint as he picked one up and popped the cap off to smell it.

He nearly jumped three feet in the air when you spoke up from behind him. “Did you wanna take a pair of panties too or…?”

“Well, if the offer’s on the table–” Still, he had on a sheepish expression as he turned to face you. “I’m sorry, that was probably totally weird of me–”

“Maybe it’s weird of me that I don’t mind,” You shrugged as you took the joint from him and sat cross-legged on your bed. “Thanks for getting everything ready in here. Obviously, I don’t need to tell you to make yourself at home.” 

He sat down backward on the chair at your vanity, facing you though his head was tilted toward the floor. “I swear I wasn’t like– actually snooping through anything. I just looked around the room.”

“Eddie, you don’t have to defend yourself. You were smelling perfume that was sitting out, it’s not like you were rifling through drawers. I told you you could be in here by yourself, I wouldn’t have left anything out I wanted kept private. Besides, I trust you.” Leaning forward, you passed him the joint. “And you don’t have to sit all the way over there.”

“You really aren’t upset at all?” He looked up at you through his lashes.

“Would you just get in the bed? The house is gonna be empty til at least 11:30 and we’ve still got half a joint. I was thinking of possibly smoking a bowl too.”

Suppressing a smile, he settled into the bed beside you. “So, does that mean I still get the panties?”

You replied by jabbing him in the side with your sock-covered foot, but his fingers wrapped around your ankle, pulling your leg across his lap. He traced patterns along the bare skin of your legs as he watched you smoke, occasionally squeezing at your calf or thigh. Feeling a little jittery as the quiet held out, he murmured, “I like your shirt.”

“Thank you, Eds,” You hummed back.

Your little amused smile made his cheeks flush faintly. “Welcome.”

He was flooded with a wave of déjà vu as you crawled into his lap, cupping his jaw to exhale smoke into his mouth. “This feels awful familiar.”

“Well, we’ve got more time than usual.” One hand wandered the expanse of his chest through his shirt as the other placed the dwindling joint between his lips. “I was thinking maybe we could finally finish what we keep starting.”

“You sure we aren’t gonna get interrupted this time?” He asked jokingly.

“We’ve got plenty of time,” You reassured him with a small smile.

“Good.” He drew you closer, “‘Cause I’m thinkin’ we don’t need to go so fast tonight.” Your eyes fluttered closed at the first touch of his lips to your skin, the kisses he left growing sloppier as they moved farther down your neck. A small chill shook his shoulders as your fingers grazed the nape of his neck, caringly gathering his hair into a fluffy bundle and loosely tying it back. So fuckin’ precious. “Thank you, sweetheart. You always think of everything, don’t you?”

“I try.”

Hand cupping the back of your head, his lips molded to yours in a long, slow kiss. As he did, he urged you onto your back, fingers grazing your lips as he settled the joint between them. “That’s enough of that. You don’t have to think anymore tonight. I just wanna take you apart, okay? Make you feel good.” His fingers slipped beneath both your shorts and underwear, gently tugging them past your hips. “Been thinkin’ about this for weeks.” The way he pushed your legs back toward your chest had you spread wide for him, your arms rising to cover your face bashfully. Warm hands eased back and forth along the backs of your thighs as he pressed kisses to the delicate skin at the creases of them. “Fuck, you even smell good.”

Eddie actually moaned when he finally tasted you. His tongue soothed over your clit before delving inside you, hands grasping at any part of you he could touch. Meanwhile, your hands were weaving into his hair, further dishevelling his already-messy bun. “Eds,” You breathed.

He briefly pulled back just enough to pant, “Can you take your shirt off? Please? Wanna see you.”

The second you lifted it over your head he was groping at the newly exposed skin, back to burying his face between your thighs. Looking up at you with those big, brown eyes, he zeroed in on your clit. You gasped, “Oh my god, right there.” When he eased his middle finger inside you, curling it to prod at a sensitive spot, you were unable to stifle a squeal.

“I’m just hittin’ all the sweet spots, huh? Pussy was made for me, baby.” Your hand found his free one on the bed, fingers lacing with his as the other remained in his hair. “That’s right, I’ve got you.” A second finger joined the first inside you, spreading you open. Devoting his effort to making you come, his mouth only ever broke away from you to coo the most knee-weakeningly dirty words. Things like, “Want you to come all over my fingers ‘n’ then I’ll stretch you out with my cock, okay? Know you’ve been waitin’ for it.”

“‘M almost there, Eddie, please. Need more.” Distress colored your tone, muscles tensing and un-tensing sporadically. His hand released yours, choosing to drag the pad of his thumb over your nipple instead. The careful pinch he gave afterward made your toes curl.

Feeling your walls squeeze around him, he fractionally sped up the movements of his hand, tongue still tormenting your clit. Quiet gasping moans overpowered the sound of the music as you clutched at the t-shirt covering his shoulders. “That’s my girl, let it out. I’m right here.” He waited until you’d relaxed to gently draw his fingers from you– arms covering your eyes and forehead as you caught your breath, you didn’t see him lick them clean. His palms were warm and slightly rough as they moved over your stomach and sides, “Still with me, sweet thing?”

“Yeah, yeah ‘m here,” You sighed airily. “Just waiting for the stars in my vision to go away.”

“Oh, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet, babe.” His lips made a path up back up your stomach, sloppy kisses and gentle bites ravishing your skin. Instead, you urged him to kiss you before finding the hem of his Hellfire t-shirt to yank it off. Your nails scraped gently over the tattoos on his chest and he shivered, clutching your hips to his. The icy cold metal of his handcuff belt buckle met the heat between your legs, making you gasp into his mouth. You reached down, fumbling to undo the handcuff design. “Easy, baby, lemme do it.”

Standing from the bed, he took his time working his belt and jeans open, eyes slowly raking over you. His lips curved into a subtle smile making your stomach flip. The way Eddie looked at you sometimes was almost overwhelming. You could see the tip of his tongue poke out from the corner of his mouth as he pushed his pants and boxers down, immediately climbing back over you. “Condoms in the nightstand,” You mumbled against the demon head inked on his pec. 

He reached over to open the drawer, chuckling at the pre-packed bowl in the corner and grabbing a condom. You surprised him by taking it from him, tearing it open, and pulling him down for another long, slow kiss as you rolled it on for him. Humming as you slowly pulled apart again, he said, “You’re kinda fuckin’ adorable, you know that?”

“Don’t be a dick,” You pouted against his lips.

“You always think I’m teasin’ you and I’m not.” His nose brushed your cheek as he murmured, “Just think you’re the sweetest little thing. Let me appreciate you.”

You tucked your head into the crook of his neck a little bashfully. “Wanna feel you, Eds.”

“I’ve got you, honey, don’t worry.” The first few inches already had you clenching around him as he pressed in. His fingers laced into your hair, gently tugging your head back enough for him to watch your face. “There she is. Doin’ okay, pretty girl?”

“Feels so good,” You breathed out. Your voice sounded strained like your throat was tight. “S’big, Eddie.”

“I know, but you’re takin’ me so good. Doin’ such a good job, baby.” He brushed your hair away from your face as he gazed down at you, his thumb stroking over your temple. “Tell me if you wanna stop.”

Your nose brushed his when you shook your head no, nails digging into his shoulder blades. Eddie gripped your thigh, hitching it over his hip. Eyes closing, you didn’t see the way he watched you as he pulled out nearly completely before pushing back in. He admired how your eyebrows furrowed a little, your lips parting with a reserved moan. You still weren’t letting go.

He was gonna change that.

Forgoing the slow pace he’d been giving you to adjust, sudden quick thrusts of his hips had your eyes opening. You blinked up at him with glassy eyes. Thighs squeezing at his sides, you clung to him. Still supporting himself on one arm, the other snuck between your bodies to find your clit. The broken moan you let out made him smile. “S’that what you needed to make some noise for me? Love hearing you, sweetheart.” He hissed as your nails dragged down his back, but that smile never left his face.

Heat licked up your legs starting from the soles of your feet, your stomach tightening as a second orgasm crept up on you. He could tell when you came again, feeling your walls spasm around him while pitchy whines you couldn’t suppress escaped your throat. “Shit,” He panted out. “Fuck, you feel so fucking good. C’n I keep going?”

Nodding, you crossed your ankles behind his back, legs wrapping more comfortably around him and caging him in closer. “Wan’ you to come, Eddie.”

“Jesus, babe, won’t take long if you keep doin’ shit like that.” He kissed you, but your lips fell open against his as his cock ground deeper into you. “God, this pussy’s fucking perfect, baby.” His grunts became pronounced groans as your hands tangled in his hair, hair tie barely hanging on. He gripped your thigh so tight you knew you’d look for fingerprints the next morning. You tugged his lower lip between your teeth and his hips jerked, burying himself as deep inside you as he could when he came.

Neither of you loosened your hold on the other for another minute or two– you just tucked your head into the crook of his neck and let your palms explore the expanse of his back while you both caught your breath. His weight was warm and grounding on top of you, calloused fingertips grazing back and forth along your side.

When you let your head fall back against the pillow you were met with Eddie’s big, warm eyes and soft smile. It was a little flustering, you could only meet his eyes through your lashes. “What?”

But he didn’t answer. He just cradled your face in his hand and delicately molded his lips to yours. It was only after that that he finally pulled out, making your legs twitch around his waist before letting him up. He tied off the condom and threw it away and as he pulled on his boxers, he leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead. “Why don’t you go to the bathroom? I’ll get some water and get the bowl ready.”

“Thank you, Eddie,” You hummed quietly in response.

“Don’t need to thank me, sweet girl.” He handed you your shirt, watching you pull it on and head for the bathroom before he went to the kitchen.

Finding him back in your bed, bowl and lighter in hand, you didn’t hesitate to crawl in with him. Your back against his chest, he offered it to you and lit it as you took a hit. His arm settled around your waist and your fingers loosely wrapped around it. He took a decent hit for himself and finally spoke again as he breathed out the smoke. “Is everything alright? You’ve been kinda quiet– I can go if you want.”

Your hold on his arm tightened slightly. “No, not at all. Sorry, I’m just kinda…” Searching for the words, your thumb tapped impatiently on his skin and you nuzzled yourself further back into him.

“That’s okay,” He reassured. “I think I get it. Take your time, baby, whatever you need.” You hit the bowl again, letting him hold it for you this time and resting your head against his chest afterward. Eddie looked down at you, your eyes closed as you sighed out smoke, and he was taken aback again by how open you were being with him– how much you were trusting him with. Warmth filled his chest at the realization that you were letting him take care of you.

Over the next few minutes, your head seemed to clear a bit. Taking a drink of water, your eyes finally met Eddie’s again, giving each other a small smile.

“So, I’ve got a proposal for you,” He began.

“I’m listening.”

He passed the bowl back to you, gaze following your movements as he spoke. “I wanna spend time with you. Not just sneaking in to fuck around or stealing a few minutes when we see each other at Hellfire, I mean really spend time with you. Let me take you out to dinner or– or come watch a movie at my place or something.” His nerves rose as he kept talking, seeing your eyelids sink lower as you inhaled a lungful of smoke.

He fidgeted with the chain around his wrist until you breathed out a response. “Okay. It’s a date.”

 His face split in a grin, “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

part one | finale | tmic masterlist

tags: @adequate-superstar @akiratoro420 @bbciwp @trixyvixx @yujyujj @nope-thanks @broccolisoupy @spookybabey @comboboo @thecraziestcrayon @mommybaby-witch @imvirginia17 @therensistance @peacheskiwi @skyfullofsong123 @hcneyedsstuff @aysheashea @prestinalove @ungracefularchimedes @psychospore @bellaisasleep @untoldshortsofthefandoms @ficsaremylife @ohmeg @twirls827 @bellasfavoritesweatpants @sebastiansstanswhore @444aslut444 @ourautumn86 @dream-a-little-nightmare @extrainsanity @poniesandcupcakes @trinuh @cantreadbutcute

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(so tumblr doesn’t eat the end of my fic again)

[nomie-11]

Alcoholics Anonymous

masterlist!

synopsis: going to an alcoholics anonymous meeting was the scariest thing you'd ever done, but in everything bad, there's something good to be found as well

pairings: vi x reader

This was the scariest thing you’d ever done. 

It was scarier then when your mother died in your arms when you were sixteen because a drunk driver ran a red light and rammed right into her car, scarier then when you failed out of school because you couldn’t keep up with your classmates because of the grief, and certainly scarier than the first time you decided to pick up the bottle. 

No. This was it. Right behind the doors to the Zaun City Public School #112’s gymnasium was a meeting of alcoholics anonymous, and every self-destructive instinct in your body demanded you to turn in the other direction and run. 

But you didn’t run. Not this time. 

Your legs felt like lead as you stepped toward the door, the peeling paint and faded letters spelling out “GYMNASIUM” doing little to ease the anxiety gnawing at your chest. Each step was heavier than the last, your mind bombarded by every excuse to turn back: I’m not that bad. I can handle it on my own. I’ll quit tomorrow. 

Yet, here you were. You’d heard about this meeting from a coworker—a former addict themselves, they’d shared how it had saved their life. They’d even offered to come with you tonight, but you declined. You didn’t want a witness to your failure if you ended up walking away. 

Your hand hesitated on the cold metal handle of the door. Inside, you could hear the faint murmur of voices, low and steady, like the hum of a distant engine. You took a deep breath, holding it for a moment, before pushing the door open. 

The gymnasium smelled faintly of old wood and cleaning solution. A circle of folding chairs had been arranged in the middle of the basketball court, the kind you remembered sitting in during school assemblies. The people sitting in them didn’t look like the faceless judgemental crowd your anxiety had conjured; they looked… ordinary. Like you.

Your eyes scanned the room nervously as you slipped inside, avoiding direct eye contact with anyone. A woman at the door—a volunteer, you guessed—smiled warmly and handed you a name tag and a marker. 

“You’re in the right place,” she said gently, as if she could see the doubt etched across your face. 

You nodded stiffly, scrawling your name on the tag and sticking it to your chest. First name only. That’s all they need, you told yourself. 

As you moved toward an empty chair, you noticed someone sitting across the circle. Her hair was a wild mane of fiery pink, her posture relaxed yet confident, with a kind of quiet intensity in her gaze. She wore a weathered leather jacket that looked like it had seen a few too many nights in the undercity, and she was twirling a pen in her fingers absentmindedly. 

She caught your eyes just as you sat down, and for a moment, you were frozen under the weight of her gaze. Then, she gave you a small, reassuring nod, as if to say, it’s okay. You’ve got this. 

The meeting began, the chairperson welcoming everyone and explaining the format. People took turns introducing themselves and sharing their stories. Some were heartbreaking, others hopeful. A few were even tinged with humor that made the room chuckle softly. 

When it came to your turn, you hesitated. The silence stretched, and you felt a bead of sweat trickle down your temple. Your throat tightened as you looked around the circle, your eyes landing on the powder blue eyes of the pink-haired woman again. She was watching you intently, her expression calm and patient, as if she had all the time in the world. 

You swallowed hard. “Hi. I’m…” your voice cracked, and you cleared your throat. “I’m Y/n. And I’m an alcoholic.”

The words hung in the air, heavier than you’d expected. But then, the group responded in unison:

“Hi, Y/n.” 

And just like that, the weight you’d been carrying for years felt a little lighter. 

As the meeting wrapped up, people began to mingle, offering words of encouragement or swapping numbers. You hung back, still processing the strange mix of relief and vulnerability coursing through you. 

“First time’s always the hardest,” a voice said from behind you. 

You turned to find the pink-haired woman standing there, hands stuffed in the pockets of her jacket. Up close, her eyes were sharp but kind, a contradiction you couldn’t quite place. 

“You did good in there,” she continued. “Name’s Vi.” She held out a hand. 

You hesitated for a fraction of a second before shaking it. Her grip was firm but warm, and her hands were calloused, grounding you in a way you hadn’t expected. 

“Thanks,” you said softly. “I’m Y/n.”

She rocked back on her heels, eyes glancing to the floor. “So,” she started. “Do you want me to start with the sob story? Or do you want to go first?” 

Y/n pulled her sleeve down over her hand, trying to keep them from shaking. “You go first.” 

Vi gave a small nod, stepping back to lean against the wall. “I’ve been coming to these things for a while now. Caitlyn—she’s my best friend—she kind of made me start. Said I’d end up drinking myself into an early grave if I didn’t get my act together.”

You tilted your head, curiosity sparking in your chest. “Best friend or…?”

Vi smirked, shaking her head. “Just a friend. She was my co-worker back when I was an enforcer. But I quit that job a while ago and joined the pits. She dragged me here after I started losing fights ‘cause I’d show up too drunk to stand, let alone swing.”

Her blunt honesty surprised you, but it also made you feel less alone. “Sounds like she cares a lot about you,” you said softly. 

“Yeah, she does. More than I deserve sometimes.” Vi’s voice grew quieter, her gaze dropping to the floor. “But I didn’t just do it for her. I’ve got my sister, Powder… or Jinx, now. She’s been through hell because of me.”

You blinked, the weight of her words sinking in. “Because of you?”

Vi sighed, running a hand through her grown out hair. “Long story, but yeah. I made a lot of bad calls when we were kids. Got put in jail for seven years for being in the wrong place at the wrong time, left her when she needed me. She’s got her own family now—a daughter, Isha, the cutest little thing—and I’m trying to be better for her.”

The raw vulnerability in her voice made your chest tighten. “It sounds like you’re doing your best,” you said. “That’s more than a lot of people can say.”

She down at you, her expression unreadable. “What about you? Why’d you decide to come tonight?”

You hesitated, the words caught in your throat. But then you thought about the way she’d spoken, so open and unapologetic, and it gave you courage. “My mom. She died when I was sixteen. Drunk driver ran a red light and… she didn’t even make it long enough for the ambulance to arrive.”

Vi’s face softened, her lips pressing into a thin line. “I’m sorry.”

“Thanks,” you murmured. “It was a long time ago, but it broke me. Failed out of school, couldn’t keep up with anything… and then I started drinking. It helped at first. Numbed everything. But then it just made things worse. One day I woke up, still wasted from the night before with my car keys next to a half empty bottle of whiskey, and it was like I was hit by a bolt of lightning.”

The admission left you feeling as if you’d gutted your insides and put them through a drying cycle on a rickety washing machine, but Vi didn’t flinch. Instead, she stepped closer, her voice steady. “That’s why you’re here, though, right? So you don’t become that person.”

You nodded, swallowing hard. “Yeah. I can’t orphan another sixteen year old or kill someone’s kid. Not like that.”

A silence settled between you, heavy with shared understanding. For the first time in a long while, you didn’t feel judged. You didn’t feel completely alone. 

Vi gave you a small smile, one that didn’t quite reach her eyes but felt genuine all the same. “You’ve got guys showing up here. More than most people.”

You chuckled softly. “You too. I mean, it’s not every day you meet an enforcer turned badass pit fighter in an AA meeting.”

That earned you a laugh—a real, raspy sound that made her shoulders shake. “Yeah, well, life’s full of surprises.”

You found yourself smiling back, a warmth blooming in your chest. Maybe this wasn’t the scariest thing you’d ever done. Maybe it was the start of something good. 

———————————

Shuffling into the next meeting a week later, you felt like hell. Turns out quitting cold turkey really screws with your body, because your mind was spinning, you had headaches worse than a terrible hangover, you couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep, and your hands wouldn’t stop shaking. 

With legs as heavy as lead, you trudged into the gymnasium, the bright fluorescent lights making your head reel in pain as you stumbled into your chair, and sat down with a heavy sigh, pressing your hands into your eyes to stop at least a bit of the pain. You didn’t even notice Vi, who had been sitting in her chair waiting for you, and who was now tracking your moves until you sat down. 

“Rough week?” Vi’s voice cut through the buzz in your skull, soft but enough to make you flinch. 

You peeked through your fingers, squinting at her. “Understatement of the century.” 

Vi leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees, the leather of her jacket creaking slightly. “Withdrawals hitting you hard?” 

“Like a goddamn freight train,” you muttered, letting your hands drop to your lap. “I can’t stop shaking, my head is killing me, and I feel like I haven’t slept in years.”

She nodded, her expression thoughtful. “Yeah, I’ve been there. It sucks. But it gets better, I promise.” 

You managed a weak smile. “Any tips? Because right now, I have no idea how to make it better.” 

Vi’s brows furrowed as she sat back, clearly racking her brain for something helpful. “Uh… well, I used to—wait, no, that’s not helpful. Maybe you could—uh… no, that’s dumb.” She rubbed the back of her neck awkwardly, her usual confidence replaced with a rare fumbling. 

You couldn’t help but chuckle weakly at her struggle. “Not inspiring a lot of confidence here, Vi.”

She shot you a mock glare, then snapped her fingers, her face lighting up. “I got it! Come to the gym with me.” 

You blinked at her, deadpan. “What?” 

“The gym,” she repeated, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Lifting weights, boxing, all of it. That’s what I do, anyways. Perfect way to get rid of the shakes, clear your head, and—”

“Vi,” you interrupted, raising a hand. “Do I look like I go to the gym?” 

She glanced at you, then smirked. “Not yet.” 

“Please. I’m practically dying here,” you protested, gesturing to your slumped posture and shaking hands for emphasis. “You really think I can survive a gym session right now?”

”Trust me,” she said, her voice firm but still kinder than anything you’d heard in years. “You don’t have to go hard or anything. Just moving, hitting a punching bag—it helps. Gets all that tension and crap out of your system. And I’ll be there, just me and you.” 

You stared at her, skeptical, with a light dusting of blush on your cheeks. “And you’re sure this isn’t some weird way to laugh at me when I inevitably fall on my face.” 

Vi grinned, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “No promises, but I’ll catch you if you do.” 

Despite yourself, you laughed, the sound weak but genuine. Maybe it was the exhaustion talking, but there was something oddly reassuring about her insistence. “Fine. But if I die, I’m haunting you.” 

“Deal.” She stood, holding out a hand to help you up. “Six tomorrow morning, Iron and Ashe gym, we’ll start slow. Don’t bother bringing hand wraps or gear, I’ll let you borrow mine.” 

Grumbling under your breath, you took her hand, letting her pull you to your feet. The world wobbled slightly, but her grip was steady, grounding. Maybe this wasn’t the worst idea in the world. Or maybe it was. Either way, you were tired of being lonely and sad, so this better work. 

————————————————————

The next morning, you were sitting on a bench in a gym that smelled faintly of sweat and old leather, trying not to look like a deer in headlights as Vi rummaged through her duffel bag. 

“Ever been in a place like this before?” She asked, not looking up as she pulled out a new roll of hand wrap (she wanted to give you the good stuff she had been saving for a special occasion, not the ratty, bloody wraps she never took off).

You shook your head. “Nope. Closest I’ve come is the gym at my old high school. That count?” 

Vi snorted, glancing up with a smile. “Not even close.” She straightened, holding up the wraps. “Here, let me show you how to use these.” 

She stepped closer to where you sat on the bench, dropping to the ground in between your legs, and you froze as she grabbed one of your hands, her calloused fingers brushing yours. Her touch was firm but careful as she began to wrap the fabric around your knuckles. 

“This’ll keep your hands from getting all busted up,” she explained, her voice low and steady. “Trust me, you don’t wanna hit anything without these, at least while you’re starting out. Protect your wrist and all.”

You nodded mutely, too aware of the warmth of her hands as they worked. The tension between you was palpable, but neither of your acknowledged it. Instead, you focused on her voice, letting it ground you like an anchor. 

“Make a fist,” she instructed, glancing up briefly to meet your eyes. 

You obeyed, and she adjusted the wrap around your knuckles, her fingers brushing your palm in a way that sent a jolt of electricity up your arm. She didn’t seem to notice, though the faint flush creeping up her neck suggested otherwise. 

“There,” she said, stepping back to admire her handiwork. “Good to go.”

You flexed your fingers experimentally, surprised at how snug and secure the wraps felt. “Not bad,” you admitted. 

“Not bad?” Vi echoed with mock offense. “That’s professional-level wrapping right there, thank you very much.”

You laughed, the sound easing some of the tension between you. “Alright, professional. What’s next?”

Vi grinned, clearly pleased. “Now, we teach you how to throw a punch.”

She led you over to a punching bag hanging in the corner of the gym, the worn leather scuffed from years of use. Standing behind you, she placed her hands on your shoulders, guiding you into position. 

“Feet shoulder-width apart,” she instructed, her voice closer now. You could feel her breath against your ear, and your heart skipped a beat. “Good. Now, hands up. Protect your face.”

You raised your hands, and she reached out to adjust them, her touch warm and deliberate, sending sparks up your body. “Like this. Keep your wrists straight. Don’t be like me—I block with my face and end up with too many bruises.”

You nodded, swallowing hard. “Got it.”

“Alright, now throw a jab,” she said, stepping back slightly. “Keep your core tight and aim with your knuckles.”

You followed her instructions, your first punch weak and awkward. Vi chuckled, moving back in to adjust your stance again, her hands brushing your arms and waist. 

“Relax your shoulders,” she murmured, her voice soft but firm. “And don’t lock your elbow. Powder comes from your whole body, not just your arm.” 

You tried again, this time putting more weight into it. The satisfying thud of your fist against the bag made you grin despite yourself. 

“There you go!” Vi said, stepping back with an approving nod. “That’s more like it.”

You kept going, each punch feeling a little stronger, a little more controlled. The workout was grueling, your muscles burning and sweat dripping down your face, but for the first time in what felt like forever, your mind was clear. 

Vi had taken the bag next to you, her punches a quicker, harder, and more rhythmic than yours, but she had a wide smile on her face. “Not bad for a newbie,” she teased. 

You paused, shooting her a look, panting. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

”It is,” she said, her tone softening. “You’re looking good, Y/n.” 

The sincerity in her compliment made your chest tighten, and you looked away quickly, focusing on the bag in front of you. 

With a bright red flush on your cheeks, and Vi’s steady punches sounding to your side, the realization quickly dawned on you. 

You liked Vi, and you were so fucked. 

—————————————————————

Days turned into weeks, and soon your gym sessions with Vi became a routine. It wasn’t just about working out anymore; it was about her. The way she’d crack a joke when you were struggling, or how she’d cheer louder than anyone else when you landed a solid kick for the first time. 

And Vi? She wasn’t exactly subtle. She’d offer to walk you home after your sessions, claiming it was a “part of her training program.” She’d linger at the door, her hands stuffed in her jacket pockets, grinning at you like you were the only person in the world. 

But neither of you said anything. Not yet. Maybe it was fear, or maybe it was just easier to keep things as they were. 

Until one day, you didn’t show up. 

At first, Vi figured you were running late. She stayed at the gym longer than usual, pretending to stretch while glancing at the door every few minutes. When the clock ticked past the hour and you still hadn’t arrived, her gut began to twist. 

Something was off. 

She grabbed her bag and left the gym, her mind racing. It wasn’t like you to skip. Even on your worst days, you’d show up, even if it was just to sit on the bench and watch her work the bag. 

By the time she reached your apartment building, her heart was pounding. She knocked on your door, her voice firm but edged with worry. 

“Y/n? You in there?” 

No answer. 

She knocked again, louder this time. “Y/n, it’s me. Open up.” 

She gave it two seconds before she knocked again, and the door slowly swung open to reveal you in the doorway. She gave you a quick one-over, taking in your figure, buried under a heavy sweatshirt she could have sworn was hers and a pair of sweatpants that were far too long on you. 

Your eye makeup was smudged, clearly left over from the day before, and your cheeks were stained by running mascara and tears, and she caught the slight stumble in your step as you grabbed her arm for balance. The smell of stale alcohol and stagnant air quickly flooded her senses, and suddenly, it was obvious. 

You had relapsed.

Vi’s heart dropped, but she kept her composure, her hand reaching out to steady you before you could fall over entirely. Her grip was firm but gentle, and she crouched slightly, trying to meet your glassy, tear-streaked eyes. 

“Y/n…” her voice was soft, laced with worry. “What happened?”

Your lip quivered, and you opened your mouth to speak, but now words came out. Instead, a fresh wave of tears spilled over, and your knees buckled. Vi caught you effortlessly, one arm wrapping around your waist while the other gently cupped your face, her thumb brushing away a stray tear. 

“Hey, hey,” she murmured, her voice soothing but tinged with urgency. “It’s okay. I’ve got you. You’re okay.” 

You tried to pull away, muttering something about how she didn’t need to see you like this, but Vi didn’t budge. Her brows knitted in concern as she scanned your face, her eyes searching for any sign of what had driven you to this point. 

“You don’t have to explain right now,” she said, her voice steady. “But you’re not doing this alone, okay? Let me help.” 

The sincerity in her tone broke something inside you. All the shame, the guilt, the loneliness—it spilled out of you in choking sobs. You buried your face in her chest, clutching at her jacket like it was the only thing keeping you grounded. 

For a moment, Vi froze, unsure of what to do. Then, instinct took over. She slipped one arm under your knees and the other around your back, lifting you effortlessly. You didn’t protest, too lost in your own spiral to care. She carried you to the couch, lowering you onto the cushions with a tenderness that belied her rough exterior. 

“Hang tight,” she said softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face before disappearing into the kitchen. She returned a minute later with a glass of water and a damp cloth, sitting beside you and gently pressing the cloth to your tear-streaked cheeks. 

You hiccuped, your voice hoarse from crying. “I… I messed up, Vi. I ruined everything.” 

She shook her head, her expression resolute. “No, you didn’t. You had a bad night, that’s all. I’ve had them. It happens. You’re here, and that’s what matters.” 

Her words only made you cry harder, and she set the glass down before pulling you into her arms. This time, she didn’t hesitate. She held you close, one hand stroking your hair while the other rested on your back, her presence a solid, unwavering anchor. 

“You’re not alone in this, Y/n,” she murmured, her lips brushing your ear. “I’ve been where you are, and I know how much it sucks. But you’re stronger than this, and you’re not all on your own anymore. I’ve got you.” 

You swallowed hard, her words sinking in, but the weight in your chest still lingered. “I don’t know how to start again,” you confessed, your voice small as you tilted your head upwards, wide eyes meeting the familiar blue of hers. 

Vi’s lips quirked into a soft smile as she brushed a strand of hair from your face. “We’ll chill out tonight, order some takeout, sleep it off, and in the morning when you wake up all hung over, we’ll clean your apartment and start fresh. I’m here, okay? Whatever you need—whether it’s punching bags, late-night talks, or just someone to sit with—I’m not going anywhere.”

Her promise hit you like a balm, soothing the raw edges of your heart. You nodded slowly, the tight knot in your chest loosening ever so slightly. “Thank you,” you whispered. 

Vi leaned her forehead against yours briefly, a gesture so tender it made your breath hitch. “You don’t have to thank me,” she murmured. “We’re in this together, yeah?” 

“Yeah,” you replied, your voice steadier now. Tomorrow will be a new day, and it will be okay. 

——————————————

Your hand hesitated for half a breath as you reached out to the handle of Zaun City Public School #112’s gymnasium doors. It was a Wednesday two days after your relapse, and Vi had insisted you come to this meeting, even though it was the last thing you wanted to do. 

From the other side of the door, you watched as it opened towards you, Vi’s smiling face on the other side. 

“Hey,” she grinned, grabbing you by the hand. “You made it.” 

Vi’s excitement was infectious as she gave your hand a squeeze and gently tugged you into the room. Her grin was broad and genuine, her blue eyes sparkling with pride. “I’m so glad you’re here,��� she said, her voice warm and steady. The confidence she radiated felt like a protective shield, one you desperately craved and needed. 

You managed a small smile, though your nerves still buzzed in the background. “Yeah, well… you didn’t really give me much of a choice,” you teased lightly. 

Vi laughed, her hand never leaving yours as she led you toward a circle of folding chairs set up in the middle of the gym. “Damn right, I didn’t. But seriously, this is huge. I’m proud of you.” 

Her words made your chest tighten in a way that wasn’t entirely unpleasant, and you found yourself holding onto her hand just a little bit tighter.

When the meeting started, Vi surprised you by sliding into the chair right next to yours. She didn’t let go of your hand, either, lacing her fingers with yours. The contact was subtle, but grounding. Every so often, she’d give your hand a reassuring squeeze, silently reminding you that you weren’t alone. 

As the meeting went on, you found yourself relaxing ever so slightly. People shared their stories—some heartbreaking, some uplifting—but all of them were honest and raw. It was a room full of people who understood, and that knowledge made the weight on your chest feel a little lighter. 

At one point, you turned to Vi, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry you had to see me like that the other night.” 

Vi glanced at you, her brows furrowing. “Don’t apologize. Seriously. Caitlyn’s had to scrape me off my bathroom floor more times than I can count. I get it.” 

The casual way she said it caught you off guard, but it also made you feel less alone. You couldn’t help the tiny smile that tugged at your lips. “Really?”

“Really,” she said firmly. “The number of times she’s had to hold my hair back, or just sit with me while I ugly cried? Embarrassing doesn’t even cover it.” She leaned closer, her voice dropping conspiratorially. “And don’t even get me started on the time I accidentally fell asleep hugging the toilet. Cait has photographic evidence. Don’t ask her, she’ll just send it to you.”

You giggled, the sound surprising even yourself. It was small, but it was real, and the way Vi’s face lit up in response made your heart flutter. 

“There it is,” she said softly, her grin softening into something more tender. “Missed that sound.” 

Before you could respond, it was your turn to introduce yourself. The room grew quiet as all eyes turned to you, and you felt your throat tighten. 

Vi gave your hand a gentle squeeze. “You’ve got this,” she murmured. 

Taking a deep breath, you nodded and spoke. “Hi, I’m Y/n,” you glanced down at her hand gently clasped around hers. “And I just relapsed.”

The group responded in unison, their voices warm and understanding. “Hi, Y/n.” 

It was a simple greeting, but it felt like a lifeline. You glanced at Vi, who was looking at you with nothing but pride and love in her eyes. In that moment, you realized she was right—you weren’t alone. 

And for the first time in a long time, you allowed yourself to believe that maybe you’d be okay. 

If you are struggling rn with drug or alcohol abuse, the SAMHSA national helpline is available 24/7 for you to use at 1-800-662-HELP (4357). Please reach out to someone if you are struggling, getting help will be the best thing you can do for yourself.

If you enjoyed this one shot, please check out my other series!

[kabr0ztrousers]

Kabr0z Writes Episode 3: A very bad idea, part 1

Find yesterday's entry here

CWs: usual gratuitous sex scene; demon summoning; serious dubcon, probably noncon when you think about it; heavy cumflation; horror themes; hyper-genitals; it's a lot today, folks

Author's note: Jesus H Christ this one got away from me. It gets good after about halfway but I feel like I spent too long setting up. Ah well, live and learn. I'm also trying something a little new where I'm linking the next few episodes together, so this one, episode 4, and episode 5 will follow on from one another.

There's basically no plot, so do what you want with that, but it's a fun thought.

With that aside, enjoy!

##########################################

It was a bit of a tradition now, whenever Heather was in town you'd get the lowest-rated book on a topic from the internet and take the piss out of it over a few bottles of your favourite red wine. Well, this week the wheel had spun, and landed on Demonology as a topic.

You thought about just saying screw it, and choosing another, but as you browsed the web for a terrible book, you saw it: "My First Book of Shadows" by Creedle and Crabnuts. The store listing alone was comical, from the pictures it looked like it had been printed out at home, badly trimmed to size and haphazardly stapled together. It was perfect. Two minutes later, and £5 lighter, it was on its way, predicted to arrive a couple of nights before her.

You leafed through the book when it arrived, barely a magazine really, and saw it contained what purported to be step-by-step directions to call forth a denizen of Hell, including a list of materials and guides to pronounce the chants.

Something about it... It called to you.

You don't know what came over you, but before you knew it you were walking around the high street, gathering incense sticks, candles, chalk, and a razor-sharp knife.

Heather arrived at your door on Friday evening, you had the house to yourself until at least Sunday afternoon and so we're busy in the living room. Your hands were covered in chalk dust in shades of white, blue, purple and red. The incense smoke was already filling the whole house with heady aromas of bergamot, cloves, camphor and myrrh.

She knocked again, snapping you out of your reverie. Still dressed in your dressing gown (robes are expensive, it turns out) you flung open the door and hugged your friend tight. "I have a surprise for you!"

"What? You've had the place fumigated?" Heather laughed, her voice lilting and sweet in the chill of the fading light.

"Better, come and see" you grabbed her by the hand and took her into the room where your circle lay, half finished, on the laminate floor

"Taken up a cult?" Heather's laughter hadn't stopped yet, then she saw the book open on the floor "Or started without me?" Mock-pouting now as she opened a bottle and started to pour the wine

You lent Heather your other bathrobe and as she pulled it on you couldn't help but see a small pile of her other clothes in the corner. Was she wearing anything under there? You guessed it fits the theme, and you'd been half hoping tonight would take that turn anyway, so you didn't say anything.

Together, you worked on the circle, both on hands and knees to trace the delicate runes and lines onto the ground. A few times Heather's gown rode up and the sight of her pink lower lips told you that, yes, she was completely naked under there.

You finished up, and knelt at opposite sides of the floor, gazing into the circle you'd drawn. Maybe a little smudged in places, but you weren't expecting anything to really happen as you recited the chants. The unfamiliar words felt strange to get your mouth around. As you came to the last few syllables you could have sworn the candles flickered, the incense grew more intense, the chalk lines began to smoulder. You raised the knife in your right hand and drew the point across your left.

That's when you realised your mistake.

The first drops of blood began to boil on your palm. The room became hot, and dry, like a desert wind blowing in your face. Gone were the scents of the incense, replaced with the smell of hot metal, searing meat, ozone, blood.

A noise, somehow the opposite of a bang. A dazzling flash. The guttering candles now ablaze and belching thick, black smoke that billowed down their sides like tar. You could see the fear in Heather's eyes, but neither of you could move. You were transfixed by what had appeared in the centre of the circle.

Too tall, too skinny, it hovered 6 inches off the ground. Spindly legs, 4 spindly arms, pencil-necked and sharp faced. Bald and with curved metal shards forming a shattered halo above its head. It blinked its four angular eyes and spoke with a voice that somehow echoed before you heard it

"Hail! I am Simizel! Viscount of the pit of Ashen Despair, Lord Commander of the seventeenth regiment of the Damned. Who are you to call me?"

You struggled to make any noise, throat dry and gasping for air. Simizel looked around at both of you, then down at the circle below him. "Wait, that's not right" he mused, "That's nonsense, that's spelled wrong, that's right, but in the wrong place, and..."

He looked at you

"It's a little irregular to ask, but what binding spell did you two use?" He was still looking at the ground quizzically as you rose to your feet

"Binding spell?" You croaked, eyes streaming

"Yes, to bind me, you know, so I don't just kill you both and go home?"

His eyes widened and his mouth grew into a wide smirk as he realised what had happened. He reached for the crumpled and charring pamphlet on the floor and skimmed it.

His smirk turned to a chuckle, then a laugh, then a cackle

"By my name! Someone thought they were very clever, didn't they?" He either couldn't disguise his mirth, or wasn't trying very hard "You just copied out any old rubbish and slit yourself open!"

A wave of his hand. You and Heather were floating in front of him now. "I haven't been amused like this in centuries. For being such fun, I'll give you girls some gifts"

He flicked his wrist and both of your gowns burned away, leaving you naked and glistening with sweat and fear

"First, if you want to try this again in the future, do it properly." He gestures at the book and it burns away, replaced with a wax-sealed scroll "That will summon an old friend of mine, just break the seal, read the words, and out he will come"

"Next, I'll make sure I don't leave behind any cambions" His clawed fingers etched patterns into your and Heather's skin. You tried to struggle against the pain, but your body was under his spell. In a few moments of etching, he had carved glowing sigils into the flesh just above each of your pubic bones.

He smiled, almost warmly, "Knowledge, and a boon, normally gifts like these would cost a soul, but I feel generous tonight, so I will simply take my fill of your bodies."

The spell keeping you aloft broke, and you dropped to the floor in a heap. You looked up at him and wondered how you could have missed it: between his pale thighs hung a pendulous, rapidly hardening cock. Your belly began to ache and your mouth water. What had come over you?

You started to crawl over to him, dimly aware Heather was doing the same next to you. Reaching up for this amazing rod as it grew longer and thicker than any human would have, flared at the head like a horse's and knotted at the base. You weren't sure how it was going to fit inside you

You knew you were going to make it.

You started kissing the end, as Heather began sucking on his gravid balls, each one the size of a grapefruit. Simizel cradled your face in his hand, fingers still bloody from marking you, then lifted you up with a gesture.

Upside-down now, you could see a rope of glittering precum hanging from his cock as it pulsed against your lips. You held out your tongue to try and taste it.

As soon as your lips parted it was in your mouth. You felt like your jaw would break. You didn't care. His tongue was at your pussy, licking your clit furiously and making you shake. You tensed up as you came, hips bucking against his face.

He pushed you down. The too-thick cock forcing its way down your throat and making you gag. You couldn't breathe. You still didn't care. You didn't care as you felt somehow even more tongues at your clit, invading your pussy, pushing into your asshole

He started thrusting. You felt as though you could split in half. Some dark power was keeping you conscious as you felt the end of his cock moving up and down in your belly. The thrusting got harder and faster until the knot was driven past your lips and started swelling in your mouth.

His tongues were still at your cunt. Your body squeezing against him as repeated orgasms rocked you. You could feel yourself squirting fluid into his face as he fucked your mouth open even wider

His cock must have been in your stomach now, bottoming out and stuck in you. You could feel it pulsing and could see his balls pumping in front of your face as your belly began to swell with the volume of fluid gushing into you. You tried to scream, in pain, in ecstasy, you're not sure, but the vast mass stuffed inside you prevented any sound escaping.

Heather was still cradling his balls in her hands as she kissed you, licking the base of his cock where it was jammed into your face, tasting where his fluids were leaking out of the sides of your mouth. Her eyes were empty but for lust as she rubbed her hands over her clit, her hips bucking erratically

The knot began to loosen and pull away from you. You felt hands on your hips lifting you from the demonic shaft as it pumped ever more into you, until it slipped free. You saw it hang, still pumping potent demon-seed and painting your friend's naked body in sticky, viscous white as she screamed her way to another full-body orgasm.

The world came back into relief and you realised you were panting and moaning, the tongues bringing you to your peak again and again. Pain rocked your body in between waves of pleasure as you came over and over, cum leaking from your mouth and throat as Heather stood below.

The demon wasted no time, repositioning himself under the two of you on the floor, one pair of impossibly strong hands on your hips as you rode his face, the other positioning your friend's ass over his impossible cock, still leaking and pulsing.

You heard her gasp and call out as it entered her ass, stretching her out and filling her immediately. Again and again he pushed in, her belly growing larger and larger with the size of him and the fluids he emitted. Your orgasmic cried mingled as your mind blanked and you passed out.

You don't know how long it was having its way with Heather, but when you came to you were lay on the floor watching it pull out of her pussy, her ass and throat leaking fluids and her gurgling moans of pleasure filling your ears.

Simizel looked at you and you wordlessly rolled onto your back, legs opened for him. He strode over to you, leaving your friend lying on her side in a pool of his semen and her own squirt.

He loomed over you and pressed himself against your aching hole. You gasped as it pushed in, stretching you around its immense girth. He was at your cervix already, and showed no signs of stopping. You screamed out as it pushed deeper in, lubricating its movement with a neverending stream of thick cum. Your eyes rolling as your orgasm rocked you again and again until he was again at the hilt. You weren't sure how much longer you could take it as he pumped litre after litre into you, the fluids spraying out of you even despite the knot holding him into you.

You passed out again.

This time you woke up and he was gone. Heather was where he left her. Sunlight was starting to eke in through the drawn curtains. You felt your belly, round and full, it sloshed around as you moved towards the bathroom to expel as much of the spunk left in your ass and your cramping womb as you could.

As you stood you felt the mark he left on your skin, it wasn't glowing now but still remained, red and cauterised by the heat of his claws.

You heard movement, Heather was awake and groaning. Her eyes met yours. They were still empty, there wasn't anything there but lurid desire. Your heart dropped as you lamented what he had done to her, before you realised where she was moving to

The scroll

She broke the wax and opened the paper before you could reach her on your shaking legs. She read the words and the walls began to shift.

A purple light suffused the room

You weren't done yet.

[brighttearss]

When the party starts -

You had gotten a joint from someone you didn’t know, probably someone from your school. You came to this party just to try and "fit in" with all these people since you were the new girl. It was your first joint and your first party of this kind, but everything felt so boring... It wasn’t what you expected. Honestly, you didn’t even want to smoke, you just wanted to forget your problems for a while. So, you stepped away from the noisy crowd and headed to the mansion’s terrace—not that you knew whose house it was. You’d been invited by one of the organizers, probably his parents. Nothing surprising.

You sat down, staring at the sky, before trying to light the joint to make things a little more interesting. You searched your pockets for a lighter, but realized you had left it downstairs.

“Great...” you muttered, disappointed, setting the cigarette aside for a few seconds. A shadow approached, and you noticed a girl’s presence. She had long blue braids, tattooed arms, and wore knee-length shorts and a neon blue top that was incredibly bold, yet striking. She was pretty attractive. You admired her for a moment before she sat down next to you, offering a lighter.

“Thanks” you replied, a bit shy,opening a small smile.

“You come here often?” she asked, curious, more as a way to start a conversation as she crossed her legs.

“No... it’s my first time,” you replied, lighting the joint, then handing the lighter back with a friendly smile.

“Ah...”

The girl didn’t react much, just raised an eyebrow. It was a typical event, after all. She took the lighter and pocketed it.

As expected, you choked on the smoke.

“It’s just a matter of time, you’ll get used to it,” she said, taking a drag too and blowing the smoke out through her mouth. It looked kind of sexy—or was the joint already hitting you? Wait... you still didn’t know her name. Not that you hadn’t heard about the troublemaker with blue hair who supposedly sold drugs and had some mental issues, but who cares? You sure didn’t.

“... What’s your name?” you asked as she looked at you, analyzing you for a moment before adjusting her posture.

“Jinx.”

“Oh... interesting name. Different, to be honest,” you tried to compliment her while she continued smoking her joint. You had already forgotten yours. It seemed like this Jinx girl was far more interesting than that.

She let out a light, sarcastic laugh. “Hmm... everyone says that.”

“I bet…”

“You new around here? Never seen you at school,” Jinx asked, leaning in a bit closer.

“Yeah... just got here three days ago.”

“Three days? And you’ve already ended up at a party like this. Impressive,” Jinx said with a mischievous smile, twirling her braids like it was the most casual thing in the world. “Must be a talent.”

"I don’t know where I ended up, actually..."

Jinx nodded in understanding. She noticed your joint was going out and took it from your hand. “Lemme see that...” She took a drag and blew the smoke out, holding both joints before handing yours back.

“Got the hang of it yet?” Jinx gave a small smile, watching as you kept struggling, coughing over and over. It looked so easy. A tear rolled down your cheek, and Jinx, noticing, gently touched your face, leaning in to wipe the tear away softly. You didn’t even need the joint anymore—nothing felt better than that moment.

You leaned in, and surprisingly, or maybe not so surprisingly, Jinx did the same. She planted her hands on the concrete floor, keeping the intense eye contact. Her blue eyes were as deep as the ocean, or maybe like the sky. Then, finally, your lips closed the distance between you two. You were on cloud nine now, for sure. Jinx seemed just as dizzy as you, and it felt amazing as her hands slid from your cheeks to your waist, tracing every inch of your body. Your face was burning red, but thankfully, she couldn’t see it.

"If I knew the party was gonna get this good..." she whispered against your lips with a playful smile.

You give a shy smile. "Same..." Then, you lean back into Jinx's lips, fully immersing yourself in the kiss as Jinx explores your mouth with her tongue, gently nibbling on your lower lip.

And just like that, you continued, kissing and getting more and more lost in each other as the night—or maybe the early morning—wore on... This was definitely way more fun.

★★★

I could have done a bit better, but I did it in a hurry. I'll bring a better one, I promise! ♡

Wc:639

[half-bakedboy]

Number 2 from the 50 cliché tropes and prompts

Your shirt/jumper was in the laundry pile and I couldn't help but steal it

Buck never understood why he had lost so many sweatshirts and button-downs to past girlfriends. Nine times out of ten, they didn't even remotely fit their figure and they were only worn in the comfort of Buck's home anyways. 

Then he started staying over Tommy's house more and more. He'd always come prepared–an overnight bag filled with an extra LAFD shirt, a pair of jeans, a pair of chinos, and two shirts, one with a collar and one without–just in case he needed to rush out in the morning. 

This morning, he isn’t quite as prepared as he wishes he had been. Tommy’s in the shower after sleepily kissing Buck good morning and Buck promised he’d run Hercules–Tommy’s ten-year-old retired racing greyhound–outside before Tommy dropped Buck off at work. Thunder crashes outside and rain pounds on the roof, and Buck didn’t even think to bring a jacket. 

He looks around the bedroom closet, careful not to invade the private space too much, but he doesn’t see anything that might help. He knows there’s an umbrella waiting beside the door, but he’s already shivering from the chill sneaking in through the closed windows and Buck knows he’ll need something to protect his skin. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a pullover laid neatly on top of the laundry pile. It’s similar to his LAFD one, but a lighter blue that matches Tommy’s on-duty uniform. It won’t keep him dry, but it’ll keep him warm and keep the water off of his skin which is all he has time to care about. He snatches it up and shouts to Tommy that he’s taking the dog outside even though he’s not sure he’s heard. 

Before he gets too far, Buck pauses to get the pullover on. The first thing he notices is how much bigger it is on him. He’s not a small guy by any means, and he’s not much smaller than Tommy–at least he thinks–but there’s so much extra fabric that he has to bundle it up at his waist. He can also tell that the back doesn’t stretch taut against his shoulder blades and that the neckline slouches a little in the front. 

It’s strange to wear something so unfit for him, but at the same time, Buck can’t help but feel giddy. He glances at himself in the mirror and feels small, but not in the way he usually does. It doesn’t make him feel inconsequential or overlooked, but like he’s protected and well-loved. It stirs inside of his stomach until the joy begins to bubble in his chest. 

He notices that Tommy’s name is embroidered just over his heart, and he brings his fingers there to trace over the lettering. It takes everything in him not to whisper his name combined with Tommy’s last and he wonders if this was how his old girlfriends felt when they stole his LAFD shirts that had his name brazen on the back. 

Where he expected to be a bit embarrassed at the claiming nature of it all, he can’t help but feel… powerful. Yeah, there’s something powerful about wearing someone else's name, like he’s screaming to the world that Tommy is off-limits because he’s Buck’s. 

He’s Buck’s. 

He’s too busy thinking about what exactly that means for him to hear the bathroom door open and a freshly showered and shaved Tommy emerge. Another figure beside Buck’s reflection startles him but Tommy’s reassuring hands slide around his waist. It’s strange how normal it feels to have strong, long arms wrapped around him and a broad chest waiting to hold him up as he leans back against it. 

“You’re wet,” Buck says, feeling the dampness on Tommy’s unclothed chest. He’s in sweatpants like he’s ready to lounge around for the day, but the bare skin of his upper body is clearly on display where Buck’s body isn’t hiding it. He wants to pull away just so he can take another peek. 

Tommy doesn’t seem to notice nor care that Buck is analyzing them because he’s too busy doing the same. There’s something in his eyes, though, that sends an eruption of warmth to Buck’s face. Tommy tugs at the extra fabric at Buck’s waist like he’s having the same realization as Buck did, and then he slides one hand up Buck’s chest to trace his name. He whispers each letter like a secret into Buck’s ear, piercing eyes never leaving Buck’s in the mirror. 

Buck shivers, pressing back against Tommy and leaning his head back so that it plops on Tommy’s shoulder comfortably. Tommy finishes his name before dragging a finger to the neckline of the pullover and letting it hang there like a weight that keeps Buck grounded.

“You’re wearing my jumper,” Tommy points out like he doesn’t already know. Buck suddenly feels anxious, like he’s made a horrible mistake, and stands back up straight. He turns to look at Tommy as he speaks. 

“Is that okay? I didn’t bring a jacket so I figured—” 

Tommy kisses him before he can finish, and Buck can only hope it becomes a pattern. 

It’s just as soft as their first kiss and every kiss they’ve shared since then, but it grows in passion second by second. Tommy is gripping the fabric at Buck’s waist like he’s deciding whether he wants to pull it over Buck’s head or leave it on his forever. Buck holds his naked shoulders, palms sliding down the hard planes of his chest then his abs, before sliding underneath the waistband of his sweatpants. 

When a cold nose hits his hand, Buck jumps back, out of breath and startled. Hercules is staring up at them like he’s let them have their fun and he’s done waiting to go outside. Tommy swipes at his face as he chuckles and Buck leans down to pat Herc’s head. 

“I’m sorry, Buddy. Am I stealing all of your dad’s attention?” Buck coos, and he can almost hear Tommy’s good-natured eye roll. 

“Well, if Evan here is done distracting me, I’m sure he’d be more than happy to take you outside, huh?” 

“Oh, if Evan is done distracting you? Like you didn’t just walk out of the shower half-naked and damp and looking like you wanted to drop to your kn–” Buck inhales deeply when Tommy glances down then back up and raises his eyebrows. “Alright, I’m out of here. Be right back,” he promises, pressing one last kiss to Tommy’s reddened lips. 

“Mhm,” Tommy hums, watching him start to walk away. 

“Do you want your pullover back?” Buck asks, because he figures that’s what he would’ve wanted to be asked. 

“As far as I’m concerned, it’s yours now.”

It sounds a lot like I’m yours now, but Buck doesn’t dare ask. Instead, he takes Hercules out, ignoring the storm rumbling above him, and strokes his thumb distractingly against Tommy’s name over his heart. He guesses he’s Tommy’s now, too.

(now on ao3)

[respectthepetty]

Blue Boy Faifa is the gift that keeps giving in episode fourteen of Perfect 10 Liners because I don't think he is even aware of how flirtatious he comes across ("I'm trying to get you to tell me your name"), yet he leaves the door unlocked for his brother to comfort his future brother-in-law even though he is pissed at Yotha. Once he realizes he wants Wine's attention, he is going to make the best boyfriend!

But Faifa and Wine might need Tawan's help to get there first.

Because he is the love guru whose spidey sense tells him when the color-coded gays are in love.

Tawan got these two opposites together!

And now red is publicly written over Yellow Yal Arm's heart for his Red Rascal Arc.

So now that Black Brooder Yotha is lighter because of Green Guy Gun, this could be them too!

Yotha already put a ring set square bracelet that is reserved for partners on it.

So Gun has permanent real estate on Cloud 9 much to the dismay of his barking Blue Boy besties when Kong seems to have a poly agenda, but Faifa's "Gentleness Shows Strength" shirt is really speaking to who he is as a character.

Because Faifa is still leaving that door open, so his brother and brother-in-law can continue whatever intricate queer ritual Yotha is committed to rather than just realizing he is IN LOVE!

Doesn't mean he isn't judging them when the morning comes.

It must be a Blue Boy thing because Kong is also judging Faifa for being "too friendly" with everyone and their mom, which is only building up more evidence to be *the* problem in the final story of Faifa x WIne.

But as long as these two color-coded boys in love can keep playing the daisy "he loves me… he loves me not" game who cares about some judgy friends.

Because Arm certainly doesn't care that his besties Green Guy Po and Blue Boy Sand are always judging him for being needy and clingy.

But Yotha also has to deal with his brothers and Neutral Newton is anything but neutral.

He is quick to throw Yotha under the bus about his love life, but I'm hoping this dad joins the elite squad of parents with THREE gay sons since Green Guy Po is out there looking for a boo while Newton is sitting there minding other people's business. Make it happen. Amen.

But now I have to see the exact moment Warit ripped Yotha's heart out and stomped on it. I get the reason, but I also get why Yotha is still so hurt by it. Yotha can't trust himself or what it is feeling because what he thought was love was a lie.

Also, Warit has a type, and it's damaged Black Brooder. Look at the pink light hit as they kiss instead of actually discuss their issues!

They are lucky they are beautiful because they are toxic af.

But I'm distracted by Gun, the light of Yotha's life, making a mistake of planning a weekend visit to his family with Yotha without actually speaking to Yotha first. Babe, your man has trust issues. You cannot spring this on him and expect a good response!

Not even Faifa being the one light thing in Yotha's dark room can coax this Black Brooder into trusting his heart again.

Now the usually happy and chill Green Guy Gun has to convince his color-coded buddies that he isn't in pain because Yotha is being distant at the mere suggestion that he wants something more real, yet nobody is convinced. Not at all. Not even a little.

Yotha is soooo light around Gun, but he is so scared to mess this up that he just keeps hurting Gun, and Gun just keeps smiling through it. They are practically wearing the same color, and I'm in a glass cage of emotions.

And Faifa can't really help either one of them through this because he sacrifices so much of himself for others that he ends up the only one suffering each time. Wine, as another Blue Boy, please be gentle with your future Blue Boyfriend. He will literally die if you don't help him.

Because he and his brothers are so traumatized that Yotha thought it was okay to tell Gun that he should leave him if he found someone to love him better, so now he is sitting outside a bathroom in a light shirt but a dark hallway,

While the light of his life is crying inside of it!

AND NOW THE DOOR IS LOCKED AT NIGHT!

BECAUSE GUN HAS LOCKED HIS HEART AWAY FROM THE DARKNESS! NOOOO!

And now Yotha is taking out the tie that has his birthday on it after imagining Gun back in his room. I'm on the floor. I'm crying into the tie. I'm using it like a Puffs Plus with Lotion, and I'm unwell about it!

No. Gun! Don't do that! Don't show that it hurts when Yotha touches you. Don't do that to my heart when you are basically wearing black because you love him. DON'T HURT ME LIKE THIS!

YES!!!! KISS! MAKE UP! BE BRAVE! BE HAPPY! BE LIGHT!

BE IN LOVE!

[lilasturns]

GOOD GIRL.

you finally get a taste of what it's like to be a 'bad girl', all thanks to chris sturniolo.

warnings: fingering, stoner!chris, high school au, driving intoxicated (pls dont do this ever?), NOT EDITED.

Nothing was going to stop you from your plans. School, study, work, and home was on repeat, 7 days a week.

Ever since you started High School, you decided it was time to put all the bullshit aside and focus on what really mattered -- college.

That was your end goal. Your 'self-actualization' as you called it. Nothing was going to get in your way from being successful.

Although you were a busy girl every week, it didn't stop you from having a social life. You knew how to balance it. Hanging out with your friends wasn't something you did much, but you still had them, which was most important, right?

Your friends were finally able to convince you to go to at least one party in your high school career.

You were standing alone in Nate Doe's kitchen, drinking a Coke out of a red solo cup.

"What's in that?" You heard a low-pitched voice from behind you ask, feeling a hand on your shoulder. Your body tensed as an unknown individual had placed a hand on your shoulder. You weren't that welcoming, were you?

"It's a coke." You answered non-chalantly, bringing it up to your lips to take another sip.

"I hate coke." The boy responded, taking his hand off your shoulder. He walked around to the opposite side of the kitchen you were in, playing with a lighter in his hand.

The flickering blue and red lights were giving you a massive headache, and the blasting music ramped through your body so rapidly you thought you might have a heart attack at any moment.

You stared at the boy across from you, studying his features. Sure, you knew who the triplets were, but you didn't know much about them. You could only assume this was Chris, from the lighter he held in his hand.

"Never seen you at one of these." He sighed.

"Friends wanted me to come." You explained.

"Want me to give you something better to drink?" He asked and walked closer to you. "Who knows if you'll ever come to one of these parties again, right?"

He stood next to you with his head tilted, his eyes squinting at you. His tongue ran over his teeth, causing his cheekbones to thin out, showing you his chiseled jaw.

"I don't drink." You said, still facing front, away from him.

"You don't have to drink," he chuckled, "I got something else with me."

You placed down your cup, side-eyeing him. He continued to stare at you, and you could see him studying your own features before you spoke up again:

"Why do you want me to do something so bad?" You asked.

"Maybe I'm just trying to help you have fun." He defended, his hand playing with the ends of your hair. "Come on, leave with me, you wanna have some fun?"

You turned to look at him, his hand moving to cup your cheek in response. "What'd ya say, hm?" You nod, feeling drawn in by his charm.

"Good girl."

So you were here, in the passenger seat of Chris Sturniolo's car, him teaching you how to smoke a blunt.

You release the last bit of smoke of your mouth, swallowing deeply, trying not to cough. He chuckles at your queasy looking face, patting you on the shoulder.

"Just cough." He commands, and you let out a loud cough, turning away from him and covering your mouth with your arm.

You could feel his eyes on you once again, causing you to turn and look at him.

"Come here." He said, tilting his head to the side. Your eyebrows furrow and your eyes wander, unsure of what he meant.

"Come sit on my lap." He beckoned and your eyes widen, looking at him up and down as he leaned back in the drivers seat. You lifted your right leg over the console, placing it on the outside of his left, followed by your left leg lifting over the console and placing it on the outside of his right.

He placed a hand on your lower back, right above your ass. You squirmed, not expecting him to touch you.

"You've never been touched before, huh?" He questions, his hand traveling down to your ass, squeezing it. You shake your head, your hands pressed against his thighs.

"You want me to touch you?" He asks. "All you gotta do is just say the word."

You stared into his eyes, pondering. Were you really about to let Chris Sturniolo do this? You wanted this, though. Deep know you knew you did.

"Yes." You agreed, your voice low. You took in a gulp, still making eye contact with Chris.

“Good girl,” he praises, running up to your waist. “Such a good girl.”

His other handle cups your cheek, with his thumb running over your jawline. You bite your lip in anticipation, tilting your head a bit.

He leans his head up to kiss you, his soft, pink lip slowly gliding against yours. He kissed you slowly, his tongue brushing against the front of your lips ever so gently.

You parted your lips, letting his tongue enter your mouth. He pulls you down so that you're basically laying on his chest. His hands move down to your waist, squeezing your hips. You rest your hand on his chest and the other on his face.

He begins to move quicker, his kissing becoming sloppier and messier. His hands travel lower, grasping your ass, causing you to shiver. You move your hips against his, and he lets out a groan in response.

His hand goes right under your skirt, his index finger running right over your clit and down to your folds. You pull away from the kiss, the new feeling making you tense.

"You're dripping, baby, you feel that?" He asks, running a hand up from your clit and down to your folds, then back up again.

You whimper, nodding, as you can feel your arousal collecting in your panties. He smirks, biting his lip.

"It's okay," he reassures, "I'm gonna help you."

You nod as he moves your panties aside with one hand. His fingers find your clit, your mouth dropping at the pleasure you experience from just his simple touch.

"Have you ever touched yourself before, hm?" He asks, rubbing light circles over your clit.

You shake your head. It's not a complete lie. You've tried, but you've just never been in the mood to do it. But right now, you sure are.

The feeling that you have is indescribable. You feel desperate, as if you are yearning to be touched. You can feel yourself practically dripping, your body feeling warmer and warmer by the second.

Chris fingers start to move faster, circling your clit even quicker. You throw your head back, letting out a light moan. His fingers dip down to your folds as he runs his index finger through, teasing your hole.

"Please, Chris." You beg, gripping onto his white plain t-shirt, staring at him with pleading eyes.

"You don't have to beg, okay?" He responds softly, entering his finger inside you, slowly.

Your eyes flutter shut at the feeling, gripping harder on the front of his shirt. He uses his middle finger only, moving in and out easily, before entering in his ring finger.

You grind your hips down on his fingers, basically riding them. The way you're feeling is like none other. Your feel filled just by his veiny fingers, and you can't help but wonder what his dick must feel like.

He moves faster, his fingers pumping in and out of you. Your moans keep dropping, incapable of keeping them in. His thumb reaches to your clit and he rubs small circles on it, and let out a loud whine, as the pleasure becomes more intense than it was a moment before.

You can feel a knot start to form in your stomach and you lay on his chest, moaning, and your eyes closed completely shut.

"You need'a cum, yeah?" He whispers down to you, his other hand petting your hair. "Tell me how you feel."

"I-I..feels like, good." You respond, unable to get words out as he moves his fingers and thumb, trying to make you come.

"I know, baby," he soothes, "just let it go."

As if on command, you can feel yourself 'let go', as if you released the knot if your stomach. The pleasure feels too much, so you hop off his lap, his fingers pulling out of you. You groan from the loss of contact with your legs lightly shaking as you sit back in the passenger seat.

He looks at you with a smirk on his face,

"God, I can't want to ruin you."