#knew he was gonna be there and waited for him to show up

[goldfades]

who else decodes you? / who's gonna know you, if not me? / and who's gonna hold you like me? / no-fucking-body / so tell me, who else is gonna know me? | joe burrow⁹ (part one)

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⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐨𝐫�� 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 7.5k

⟢ ┈ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦��𝐫𝐲 | you and joe had been inseparable since LSU, with him promising you everything—a dream home and a life together. everything felt perfect during your golden days, but as time passed, things shifted, and the cracks began to show in your once-perfect relationship

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | angst... just straight up angst. asshole-y joe, lots of fighting, reader being a trophy wife, just real sad things im sorry i wrote this yall. NO happy ending in this part, part 2 will have a happy ending dw guys!!!

You met Joe Burrow before the world did.

Before the Heisman, before the draft, before his name carried weight outside of Athens, Ohio. Before the sleek suits, the Cartier glasses, the endless debates about whether he was the next great quarterback of his generation. Before all of that, he was just Joe. Your Joe.

The one who texted you goodnight from his twin bed in his childhood home, the one who took you to McDonald’s after late-night practices because that’s all he could afford. The one who kissed you in the front seat of his beat-up truck, hands a little rough from lifting weights but gentle when they held your face.

You were there for it all.

Through the transfer to LSU, when he was just a backup with something to prove. Through the championship season, where he turned into a legend overnight. Through the draft, when you held his hand so tightly your knuckles turned white, waiting for the moment his name would be called. Through the move to Cincinnati, where you learned the ins and outs of being an NFL girlfriend—then an NFL wife in everything but title.

You never needed the ring to prove your place beside him. Not at first.

Because when you love someone for that long, when you’ve been there since day one, you assume you’ll be there forever. You assume that one day, when the time is right, you’ll walk down the aisle and he’ll be standing at the end of it. That the same boy who once promised you the world in a whisper under Louisiana stars would eventually make good on it.

But love isn’t always enough.

And timing? Timing has a cruel way of making a fool out of you.

Before the waiting, before the uncertainty—there was LSU.

The golden days.

The kind of love people wrote songs about, the kind that burned so bright it felt untouchable, invincible. You and Joe had been through the trenches of college life together—cheap dates, sleepless nights, long drives in his old truck where he talked about the future like it was already written in the stars.

Joe had always been a planner. He didn’t just dream—he mapped things out, broke them down into plays, like a game he knew he would win. And in every version of the future he spoke about, you were in it.

“I’m gonna make it,” he told you one night, lying in the back of his truck, staring at the Baton Rouge sky like it held all his answers. The air was thick with humidity, cicadas singing in the distance, but neither of you cared. You were twenty, wildly in love, and the world hadn’t touched you yet. “I don’t care how long it takes, or how many people doubt me—I’m making it to the league.”

You smiled, running a hand through his hair. “I never doubted that.”

Joe turned then, propped himself up on an elbow, his sharp, determined eyes softening as he looked at you. “And when I do, I’m gonna give you everything.”

It wasn’t just a promise. It was a declaration.

Not just any ring—a rock. One that would catch the light from across the room, the kind that would make strangers do a double take. Not just any house—your dream home, the one you’d always wanted but never thought possible.

You had told him, once, in passing, the kind of house you loved. You were scrolling on your phone, lying with your feet in his lap, showing him a picture of a home that looked straight out of a magazine.

“That,” you had said, tapping the screen. “That’s the dream.”

White exterior, big windows—floor-to-ceiling in the living room, so the sunlight would pour in every morning. A wrap-around porch, because you always loved the idea of sitting outside with a glass of wine on summer nights. A kitchen with the biggest island imaginable, because you loved to cook, even if Joe barely trusted himself to make toast. A cozy sunroom, filled with mismatched chairs and overflowing bookshelves. A clawfoot bathtub in the master bath, where you could soak for hours after a long day.

Joe had barely glanced at the picture before he said, “Done.”

You laughed. “Joe, that house is like… five million dollars.”

“So?” He had smirked, cocky and confident in that way only he could pull off. “Give me a couple years.”

You shook your head, amused, but deep down, you believed him. You believed him because when Joe Burrow set his mind to something, it happened.

And when you asked, jokingly, what kind of dog he wanted, he just scoffed.

“Dogs? No. We’re gonna have like, eight cats.”

You snorted. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” He stretched out, hands behind his head, already painting the picture in his mind. “They’ll have dumb names, too. Like, I don’t know… Fettuccine. Or Tuxedo. Or—oh—Larry.”

“Larry?”

“Yeah. Larry’s gonna be the ringleader.”

You shook your head, laughing so hard you had to wipe tears from your eyes. “You’re ridiculous.”

Joe just grinned, pulling you in, pressing a kiss to your temple. “You love me.”

And you did. God, you did.

You loved him through the highs—the Heisman win, the national championship, the night he got drafted when you held his face in your hands and told him this is it, baby. This is everything you worked for.

You loved him through the lows—when he tore his ACL his rookie year and sat in silence for hours, devastated, gripping your hand so tight it went numb. When the pressure of the league weighed heavy on him and he retreated inward, needing space, needing you to be his anchor without him ever having to say it.

You loved him because he was Joe.

Because he was the boy who once whispered about forever under Louisiana stars, who promised you a rock, a dream house, and eight cats named Larry and Fettuccine.

Because you believed, back then, that promises were made to be kept.

--

It started small.

A casual comment, barely even a question, when you were knee-deep in cardboard boxes in your new Cincinnati apartment. You’d been together for years by then, had already lived together in Baton Rouge, but this—this felt different. More permanent. He was the face of a franchise now, the golden boy of an entire city. And you? You were the woman who had been by his side through it all.

So when you held up a framed photo—one of the two of you from his LSU days, his arm wrapped around you, both of you grinning like you had the whole world ahead of you—you said it without thinking.

“Guess we’ll need some wedding pictures to put up soon, huh?”

It was light, teasing, the same way you’d joked about it a hundred times before. But this time, Joe didn’t laugh. He didn’t even smile.

He just exhaled through his nose, set down the box he was carrying, and ran a hand through his hair.

“I’m still adjusting to all this,” he said, gesturing vaguely at the apartment, the city, the new life he was stepping into. “Let’s just… settle in first.”

You told yourself it made sense.

Joe had always been slow to process change. He liked routine, predictability. He had just gone from college quarterback to the number-one draft pick, from playing in front of thousands to playing in front of millions. If he needed time, you’d give it to him.

And so you did.

You poured yourself into the role of supportive girlfriend, the unwavering presence behind the scenes. You went to every game, wore his jersey, kept your social media lowkey even when the WAGs of the league started reaching out. You made sure home felt like a safe haven for him—a place where he wasn’t Joe Burrow, NFL quarterback, but just Joe.

Months passed. Then a year. Then two.

And still, nothing.

You tried to be patient. You tried not to compare. But it was impossible not to notice when guys who had been in the league half as long as Joe were proposing to their girlfriends. When you went to team events and saw wives flashing diamond rings, their hands resting on their husbands’ arms like they belonged there. When your own friends started getting married, settling down, building the life you always thought you and Joe were working toward.

You weren’t the kind of girl who begged for a ring. That wasn’t you. That wasn’t why you loved him. But you also weren’t stupid.

So, one night, after a Bengals win, when it was just the two of you curled up on the couch—Joe half-asleep, his head resting on your thigh—you ran your fingers through his hair and asked,

“Do you ever think about it?”

His eyes cracked open slightly. “Think about what?”

“Marriage.”

The word hung in the air between you, heavy in a way that made your stomach tighten.

Joe didn’t sit up, didn’t tense. But he also didn’t answer right away. He just stared at the ceiling, his fingers drumming lightly against your leg.

“Yeah,” he said finally. “I think about it.”

That was it. No elaboration. No follow-up.

And maybe it was the years of knowing him, of reading between the lines of what he didn’t say, but something about his tone sent a cold prickle down your spine.

You swallowed. “And?”

Joe sighed, shifting so he was looking up at you fully. His face was tired, drawn, the way it always was after a game.

“I love you,” he said first, because Joe always led with love, even when he was about to disappoint you. “I just don’t know if I’m… ready for all that.”

All that. Like marriage was some heavy, unbearable thing. Like it was a burden, instead of the only thing you’d ever wanted with him.

But you didn’t push. You never pushed.

You just nodded, kissed his forehead, and told yourself that he just needed more time.

You’d already given him years. What was a little longer?

For every golden memory, there was a night that ended with you crying into your pillow, your chest aching from the weight of words left unheard.

And Joe was never the type to yell.

That was the problem.

You could scream, slam cabinets, cry until your eyes were swollen, beg him to just say something—but Joe would sit there, jaw clenched, eyes locked on some invisible point in the distance. Silent. Stone-faced. Like he was waiting for a storm to pass rather than standing in the middle of it with you.

And when he was done listening, when he decided he had nothing to say, he’d just walk away.

No slammed doors. No cruel words. Just an exhale through his nose and the slow, deliberate sound of his footsteps leaving the room.

Then came the silence.

Hours, sometimes days, where he wouldn’t touch you, wouldn’t look at you, wouldn’t acknowledge the way you curled up on your side of the bed, arms wrapped around yourself because if he wouldn’t hold you, you had to do it yourself.

It always started the same way.

Joe had never been a selfish person—at least, not intentionally. He loved you, worshipped you in his own quiet way. But he was also a man who had spent his entire life being taken care of.

First by his parents. Then by his coaches. Then by you.

At first, it hadn’t bothered you. You wanted to take care of him, because loving Joe Burrow meant making sure he ate real meals instead of surviving off protein shakes and granola bars. It meant picking up after him when he left his clothes on the floor, washing his jerseys so they always smelled like fresh detergent instead of sweat, keeping your home together while he threw every ounce of himself into football.

But over time, something shifted.

The gestures that had once been acts of love started to feel expected. You would spend hours cooking his favorite meal, only for him to eat in front of the TV without so much as a thank you. You’d clean up after him like clockwork, while he’d scroll through his phone, oblivious to the way you were moving around him like a ghost. You handled the small things—the groceries, the laundry, the appointments—so he never had to think about them. And the worst part? He didn’t think about them.

He didn’t think about how exhausting it was to pour so much of yourself into another person and get nothing in return.

One night, after a long day where you’d cooked, cleaned, and ran errands while Joe came home from practice, showered, and immediately planted himself on the couch, something in you snapped.

You had been standing in the kitchen, scrubbing dishes, while Joe sat in the living room, watching game film, oblivious to the way your hands were trembling from frustration.

“Joe,” you called, trying to keep your voice steady.

He hummed, eyes still on the screen.

You turned off the faucet, wiping your hands on a dish towel. “Do you even see me anymore?”

That got his attention. His head lifted slightly, brows furrowing. “What?”

“Do you see me?” you repeated, voice shaking now. “Or am I just here? Like some… unpaid assistant who cooks your meals and cleans your shit and waits around for you to remember I exist?”

Joe blinked, clearly caught off guard. “What are you talking about?”

You laughed, but there was no humor in it. Just exhaustion. Frustration. A bubbling anger that had been simmering for months. “I do everything for you. And I never ask for anything in return. But you don’t even appreciate it, Joe. You don’t see it. You don’t see me.”

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Jesus, babe. I—look, I didn’t ask you to do all that.”

Your heart sank.

There it was. The knife, twisted so deep you almost doubled over from the pain of it.

You swallowed, eyes stinging. “You shouldn’t have to ask for basic effort.”

Joe exhaled sharply, pushing himself up from the couch. “I don’t have the energy for this right now.”

And then, just like always, he walked away.

The silence stretched for days.

No matter how loud you got, how many tears you shed, it never mattered.

Because Joe didn’t scream.

Joe shut down.

--

The restaurant was dimly lit, the kind of place where the wine was poured before you even asked and the waiters moved so seamlessly you barely noticed them. It was a Bengals event—one of those exclusive, high-end dinners meant to bring players and their partners together, a little PR, a little networking, all wrapped in the illusion of luxury. Normally, you didn’t mind them.

But tonight? Tonight, Joe was off.

He had been for weeks. Ever since the injury, ever since he had to watch his team play without him, it was like the weight of the world had settled on his shoulders and refused to budge. You had tried, God, you had tried—to comfort him, to give him space, to be exactly what he needed. But no matter what you did, it felt wrong.

He barely talked. Barely looked at you. And when he did, there was something in his eyes you couldn’t place.

Resentment?

Disappointment?

You didn’t know.

So you sat at the table, plastering on a smile, sipping your wine, pretending everything was fine as the conversation buzzed around you. Ja’Marr and his girlfriend, a few of the other guys, their partners. The usual crowd.

The joke started innocent enough.

“You’re literally the dream NFL WAG,” Ja’Marr’s girlfriend said, laughing as she leaned over toward you. “Like, you do everything for him. Cook, clean, go to every game. You’re basically the gold standard.”

The table chuckled.

You laughed, too, but there was something hollow about it. It wasn’t that the statement was wrong. It was just that… for the past few months, being Joe’s girlfriend hadn’t felt like a dream. It had felt like an uphill battle, like loving him was a test you were always on the verge of failing.

But before you could say anything, Joe scoffed.

Loudly.

The kind of sound that cut through the easy, playful atmosphere and made everyone shift in their seats.

You turned to him, confused, but Joe wasn’t looking at you. His jaw was clenched, his grip tight around the base of his glass.

“You think I don’t know that?” His voice was low, sharp, edged with something you couldn’t name.

The table went quiet.

Your stomach sank.

“Joe,” you said softly, placing a hand on his arm, but he pulled away, shaking his head.

���I need air.”

And just like that, he was on his feet, pushing back his chair, striding toward the exit without another word.

You barely hesitated before following.

The moment you stepped outside, the cold air hit you like a slap. The parking lot was mostly empty, save for a few blacked-out SUVs and a couple of lingering staff members. Joe was already a few steps ahead, his hands on his hips, breathing hard like he was trying to keep himself together.

You didn’t care. You weren’t going to let this go.

“What the hell was that?” you demanded, heels clicking against the pavement as you caught up to him.

Joe exhaled sharply, tilting his head back toward the sky. “I don’t wanna do this right now.”

“No. No.” You grabbed his arm, forcing him to look at you. “You don’t get to humiliate me in front of everyone and then walk away like nothing happened.”

Joe turned then, eyes flashing with something you had never seen before. Rage.

“You think I don’t know?” His voice was louder now, cutting through the night air, his face twisted in frustration. “You think I don’t fucking see the way you take care of everything? How perfect you are? How much you do for me?”

Your breath hitched. This wasn’t the first time you’d fought, not even close. But this was different.

This was Joe shouting.

He never shouted.

“You think I don’t know how much you’ve sacrificed? How much you’ve had to deal with while I sit on the fucking sidelines, watching my team play without me?” His hands were in his hair now, voice cracking under the weight of it all. “You think I don’t feel like a goddamn failure every second of every day? That I don’t fucking hate myself for it?”

Your chest tightened. “Joe—”

“I get it, okay?” His voice was hoarse, his breathing heavy. “I get it. I don’t deserve you. I don’t deserve any of this.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

The silence stretched between you, heavy and suffocating.

Then, finally, you swallowed hard, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I never said that.”

Joe looked at you then, really looked at you. And for the first time in weeks, maybe months, you saw it.

The exhaustion. The fear. The guilt.

And underneath it all, something else. Something raw and painful and impossible to ignore.

“I can’t do this,” he said suddenly, shaking his head, stepping back. “Not tonight.”

Your stomach dropped. “Joe.”

But he was already turning away.

Already leaving.

And for the first time, you didn’t go after him.

Time, though, has a funny way of making fools out of people.

Because a little longer turned into another year. And another.

And soon, you weren’t just the girlfriend who had been with Joe since before the fame. You were the girlfriend who was still waiting. The one people whispered about at games, in comment sections, in DMs you tried not to read.

Why hasn’t he proposed yet? If he wanted to marry her, he would’ve by now. She’s been with him forever. That’s kinda embarrassing.

You weren’t stupid. You heard the whispers. You ignored them, brushed them off, laughed about them with Joe like they didn’t sting.

But deep down, they did.

And then, one night, you cracked.

It wasn’t planned. You weren’t trying to pick a fight. You were just lying in bed beside Joe, scrolling mindlessly on your phone, when an engagement post popped up on your feed. Another NFL couple. Another ring. Another reminder.

You set your phone down. Turned toward Joe, who was staring at the ceiling like he always did when he couldn’t sleep.

“Joe,” you said softly.

He hummed in response, eyes still fixed upward.

“Are you ever going to marry me?”

The words weren’t sharp. They weren’t bitter. Just quiet. Tired.

Joe closed his eyes. Let out a slow breath. And in that moment, you already knew the answer.

Not yet. Not now. I need more time.

The same thing he’d been saying for years.

But this time, you weren’t sure you could keep waiting.

--

It didn’t happen in one moment. It wasn’t a clean break, a single conversation where you both sat down, acknowledged the inevitable, and walked away like two people who had outgrown each other.

No, it was ugly. It was heartbreaking. It was loud.

It started in the living room, the place that had once been your sanctuary. The place where you curled up on the couch together after long days, where you laid your head on his lap while he absentmindedly played with your hair, where he kissed you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered.

But tonight, it was a battleground.

You stood near the coffee table, arms wrapped around yourself like you were trying to keep from falling apart, while Joe paced in front of the fireplace, his hands tangled in his hair. His face was flushed, his breathing uneven, his entire body radiating frustration. But under it—under the anger, the exhaustion—was something else.

Defeat.

“We can’t keep doing this,” Joe muttered, voice low but strained, like it physically hurt him to say it out loud.

Your stomach twisted. “Doing what?”

“This!” He gestured between the two of you, his voice louder now, raw with emotion. “The fighting, the tension, the constant feeling that no matter what I do, I’m letting you down.”

You flinched, because that wasn’t fair.

He wasn’t letting you down—he was shutting you out. Pushing you away, piece by piece, until you barely recognized the man standing in front of you.

And yet, despite it all, you still wanted to fight.

You needed to fight.

“Joe, you haven’t even tried—”

His laugh was hollow, sharp. “Tried? Are you kidding me?” He shook his head, running a frustrated hand down his face. “I have been trying for months. Trying to be what you need, trying to hold this shit together while I feel like I’m losing everything.”

Your throat tightened. “I never asked you to hold it together alone.”

He looked at you then, and the pain in his eyes nearly brought you to your knees.

“I know.” His voice cracked. “And that’s the worst fucking part.”

You felt like you couldn’t breathe.

Because suddenly, you saw it—the breaking point. The moment where all the fights, all the silences, all the nights spent lying in the same bed but feeling miles apart had led to.

This was it.

You swallowed, hard. “Joe… don’t do this.”

His jaw clenched. “I don’t know how to be what you need anymore.”

“I don’t need you to be anything—I just need you to try,” you choked out, hot tears spilling over your cheeks.

“I am trying!” His voice cracked, his hands gripping his hair like he was barely holding himself together. “But I’m not enough for you! And I don’t think I ever will be!”

The words hit like a physical blow.

Your breath hitched, and for a second, everything blurred—your vision, your thoughts, reality itself. Because how could he say that? How could he look at you, after everything, and think he wasn’t enough?

He had always been enough.

He had been everything.

Your chest heaved, your heart splintering, but you forced yourself to take a step forward, reaching for him like you had so many times before.

But this time, Joe stepped back.

Like touching you would break him completely.

Like it already had.

A sob ripped through your throat. “Joe, please—”

His eyes were glassy now, his own tears threatening to fall. But his face was set, his hands shaking at his sides.

“This isn’t working anymore.” His voice was barely above a whisper, but it cut through you like a blade.

And just like that, the world tilted.

You had imagined a lot of worst-case scenarios over the past few months—imagined nights where he would sleep on the couch, imagined him needing time apart, even imagined him telling you he wasn’t ready for marriage yet.

But this?

This was never supposed to happen.

He was supposed to fight.

He was supposed to love you enough to stay.

But instead, Joe exhaled shakily, like this was killing him too, and took another step back.

Like he had already made his decision.

Like he was already gone.

And then, through the unbearable tightness in your throat, through the tears blurring your vision, you said the only thing you could.

“What about everything you promised me?”

His face broke. Just for a second.

And then, softer than you’d ever heard him, he whispered, “I meant every word.”

And still, he turned away. Still, he walked to the door, grabbed his keys, and hesitated for only a second before pulling it open.

And you stood there, frozen in time, watching as the love of your life—the boy who once promised you forever under Louisiana stars—walked out of your life like he had never meant to stay.

The door clicked shut.

The silence that followed was deafening.

It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real.

Your legs gave out before you even realized you were falling. You collapsed onto the couch, hands clutching your chest as if that would somehow stop the pain, as if pressing hard enough could keep your heart from shattering.

But it did.

Piece by piece. And Joe?

Joe was gone.

--

Joe wasn’t sure when it started.

The feeling had been creeping up on him for months—slow at first, like a whisper in the back of his mind, something he could ignore if he kept moving, if he kept winning.

But then he got hurt.

And suddenly, there was nowhere to run.

No game to prepare for, no film to study, no Sunday nights under the lights where he could lose himself in the only thing that had ever made him feel like enough.

He had always known you were out of his league. Everyone did.

You were a force—bright and untouchable, the kind of woman who could walk into a room and have everyone wrapped around your finger without even trying. You were loved in ways Joe had never been. Not because of what you did, not because of your talent or your career, but just because of who you were.

And Joe?

Joe was… Joe.

He had worked for everything. Clawed his way to the top, gritted his teeth through every setback, played with a chip on his shoulder so sharp it could cut. He had spent his entire life proving people wrong, showing them he was worth it, and still, sometimes it felt like it wasn’t enough.

But not with you. At least, not at first.

At first, you had looked at him like he was someone special—not because of football, not because he was Joe Burrow, but because he was yours. And for a while, that had been enough.

But then the marriage thing came up.

Then the quiet expectation that he was supposed to take the next step, that he was supposed to be ready.

And fuck, he wanted to be.

He wanted to put a ring on your finger, wanted to build a life with you, wanted to buy you the house you dreamed about and fill it with all the stupid cats he promised you back at LSU.

But the more you pushed, the more it felt like he was already failing.

You deserved the world, and he—he wasn’t sure he knew how to give it to you. You had grown up with love. Joe had grown up with pressure.

Your family adored you, your friends would kill for you, strangers on the internet called you an angel, and the worst part? They were right.

You were perfect. You were kind, and patient, and you gave so much of yourself without ever asking for anything in return—until, eventually, you did.

Until you started looking at him like you needed something more.

And maybe that’s when it started.

The resentment. The guilt.

The way he began shutting down because every time he looked at you, he saw someone who had given him everything, and all he could do was hold it in his hands and wonder when he was going to drop it.

So he pulled away.

And then he got injured. And then it got worse.

Because for the first time in his life, Joe had nothing to offer.

Football was gone. He was stuck on the sidelines, watching his teammates play without him, watching the world move forward while he stood still. And every time he came home, there you were—beautiful and untouchable and looking at him with so much love, and God, it made him want to rip his fucking hair out.

Because you weren’t supposed to love him like that.

Not when he was like this. Not when he felt like nothing.

And so, he made himself nothing to you.

He let the silence stretch between you, let the fights spiral into something he couldn’t control, let the guilt eat him alive until the only option left was to let you go.

Not because he wanted to. Not because he didn’t love you.

But because he loved you too much to keep being a disappointment.

Because you were everything. And he was just him.

--

Joe barely remembered the drive to Ja’Marr’s house.

The roads were dark and wet from rain, the city quiet in the way it only got after midnight, and yet everything inside him was loud. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, his hands gripped the wheel so tight his knuckles were white, and his breath came in short, uneven bursts, like his body was still trying to catch up to what had just happened.

He had left.

He had actually left.

The second Ja’Marr opened the door, his easygoing expression dropped. “Shit.”

Joe must have looked as bad as he felt.

Ja’Marr didn’t ask questions, didn’t crack a joke or act like this was nothing. He just stepped aside, letting Joe in without a word.

Joe walked past him, straight to the couch, sinking down like his body couldn’t hold him up anymore. His hands were still shaking. He stared at them, trying to steady his breath, but the more he tried to push it down, the worse it got.

He felt like he was imploding.

Ja’Marr sat across from him, elbows on his knees. “You good?”

Joe huffed out something that was supposed to be a laugh but came out broken.

“No,” he admitted.

And then, just like that, the weight of it all came crashing down.

He broke.

For the first time in years, maybe ever, Joe let himself feel it.

His shoulders caved, his head fell into his hands, and before he could stop himself, a sob tore through his chest. It wasn’t quiet, wasn’t controlled—it was raw, guttural, the kind of grief that sat heavy in his ribcage and made him feel like he was drowning.

Ja’Marr swore under his breath, rubbing a hand over his face. “Damn, man.”

Joe couldn’t respond. He could barely breathe.

Because he had spent so long trying to convince himself this was the right thing—that letting you go was necessary, that it was better for you, that one day you’d understand—but now, sitting on his best friend’s couch, in a house that wasn’t his, without you, it hit him.

You weren’t in the next room.

You weren’t waiting for him to come back.

You weren’t his anymore.

And for the first time since he met you, since you were just a girl in his corner, since he was just a college quarterback with a dream—he was alone.

—

The house was silent.

The kind of silence that wasn’t peaceful, but hollow.

You stood in the middle of the living room, arms wrapped tightly around yourself, staring at the front door as if it would swing open at any second, as if Joe would walk back in, apologize, say he didn’t mean it.

But the house stayed empty.

You should’ve done something—gone to bed, taken a shower, moved—but you couldn’t.

Your body felt detached, like you were floating just outside of yourself, watching as the reality of what had happened settled into your bones.

He was gone.

You sucked in a shaky breath, your eyes darting around the room, landing on all the pieces of him he had left behind. His hoodie draped over the back of the couch. His sneakers kicked off near the door. The blanket you always fought over, still crumpled where he had last used it.

Your throat tightened.

It felt wrong.

How was it possible that someone could just leave, and yet everything still looked the same? How was it possible that the world hadn’t just stopped?

Your body moved before your mind could catch up.

You grabbed his hoodie, pulling it into your chest, clutching it so tightly your fingers ached. It still smelled like him—like his cologne, like home, like everything you were supposed to have forever.

A sharp, broken sob tore through you.

Your legs gave out.

You sank onto the floor, your body curling in on itself, gasping for air between sobs that didn’t seem to end.

You had imagined a million worst-case scenarios for your relationship, but you had never imagined this.

A fight, maybe. A bad one.

A few nights apart, maybe even a week.

But not this.

Not a house that suddenly felt too big, too cold, too wrong without him in it.

Not a silence that felt like it would swallow you whole.

Not an ending that you weren’t ready for.

Not Joe—your Joe—leaving, and not coming back.

Joe didn’t tell his parents right away.

He had gone weeks pretending it wasn’t real, pushing it down, acting like if he ignored it long enough, it wouldn’t hurt. Like the breakup was just another fight, another rough patch, and any second now, you’d come home.

But then spring rolled around, and he found himself back in Athens for a few days, sitting at his parents’ kitchen table, pushing food around his plate while his mom chatted about some wedding she had gone to.

He barely heard her—until she said your name.

“I just know she’ll look so beautiful at her own wedding one day,” Robin said, smiling like the thought made her happy. “Did she ever decide on a dress style? I remember she showed me a few options the last time we talked.”

Joe’s fork clattered against the plate.

His parents looked up.

The room suddenly felt too small. The walls too close. The weight in his chest unbearable.

“She’s not picking a dress,” he said flatly.

His mom’s smile faltered. “What do you mean?”

Joe exhaled sharply, staring at the table. His throat felt tight, his hands fisting in his lap. “We broke up.”

Silence.

Not the kind he was used to. Not the easy kind.

His dad was the first to speak. “When?”

“A while ago.” His voice was hoarse, his jaw tight.

Robin looked like he had just slapped her across the face. “Joe… what?”

She sounded hurt.

Like he had broken her heart, too.

“You didn’t tell us?”

Joe swallowed. “I didn’t know how.”

His mom was still frozen in shock. “But—why? What happened?”

Joe should have had an answer. He should have been able to give them some logical, concrete reason why the only real love he had ever known had just… ended.

But there wasn’t one. Not really.

So he just shook his head. “I wasn’t enough for her.”

His dad exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face. “Joe—”

Robin’s eyes filled with tears, and that—that was what finally did it. That was the moment it hit him, the moment the denial shattered and left nothing but cold, brutal truth in its place.

You were gone.

Not just for a few days.

Not just waiting for him to fix it.

You were gone.

Joe scraped his chair back so suddenly it screeched against the floor.

“I gotta go,” he muttered, standing up, hands shaking.

“Joe—”

“I just—I gotta go.”

And then he was out the door, out of the house, into his car, gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white.

His vision blurred. His chest caved in.

He sucked in a sharp breath, trying to hold it together.

It didn’t work.

That was the moment Joe decided he needed a distraction.

A new game plan. A new something—because if he let himself sit in this pain, if he let himself really feel it, it might consume him completely.

So he did the only thing he knew how to do.

He threw himself into excess.

He spent money like it was nothing, like it was oxygen, like keeping the spending going would somehow fill the empty space inside of him. New cars, new watches, expensive nights out where the bill was triple what it needed to be. If someone wanted a round of shots? Joe was covering it. If his guys wanted to go to Miami for the weekend? No problem.

And the women.

That was the easiest distraction of all.

They were everywhere—at the clubs, at the restaurants, at the parties where he never used to go but suddenly needed to be. They touched him like they wanted him, smiled at him like he was the most important man in the room. And for a few hours at a time, he let them.

He let them run their hands over his chest, let them whisper in his ear, let them follow him back to hotel rooms or his new penthouse in the city.

He let them treat him like he was whole.

But then morning would come, and the illusion would shatter.

Every single time, he’d wake up next to someone who wasn’t you.

Someone whose perfume didn’t smell like yours. Someone whose touch didn’t feel like home. Someone who would roll over, press lazy kisses to his skin, and call him baby in a way that made his stomach twist.

Because you used to call him that.

And now you never would again.

It was supposed to feel good. It was supposed to be freeing, making up for lost time, for all the years he had spent as the devoted boyfriend, the one-woman man, the guy who turned down numbers and shut down flirting because he only wanted you.

But none of it worked.

None of it made him feel better.

Because at the end of the day, he was still Joe.

And you were still gone.

It took one of his teammates pulling him aside one night to finally say what he couldn’t.

“Bro,” Sam said, hand on Joe’s shoulder. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Joe blinked, pulling his attention away from whatever girl had been whispering in his ear at the bar. “What?”

Sam gave him a look. “You’re not this guy.”

Joe let out a sharp laugh. “I’m fine.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Are you?”

Joe didn’t answer.

Because he wasn’t.

Not even close.

But he wasn’t ready to admit that yet.

So he just exhaled, forced a smirk, and lifted his drink. “Don’t worry about me, man.”

But Sam was worried.

And deep down, Joe knew why.

Because no matter how many nights he spent surrounded by people, no matter how much money he threw at the problem, no matter how many women climbed into his bed—

The only thing he ever felt anymore was hollow.

--

The day you packed your bags and left Cincinnati, you didn’t cry.

You had done enough of that.

Your best friend had offered—begged, really—for you to come stay with her in Columbus, and after weeks of waking up in a house that no longer felt like a home, you finally said yes.

It wasn’t running away.

It was survival.

Joe had been your world for so long that, without him, you weren’t sure where to stand. Your entire adult life had revolved around him—his schedule, his dreams, his highs, his lows. You had built a life inside of his. And now, that life was gone.

So, for the first time in years, you weren’t trying to be somebody’s something. You weren’t trying to be the perfect girlfriend, the supportive WAG, the woman who held it all together.

You were just trying to be you.

Whoever that was.

—

Columbus was different.

It wasn’t Cincinnati, where every street corner reminded you of Joe. Where the grocery store held memories of early-morning runs before his games. Where your favorite restaurant was the place he took you after he signed his first big contract. Where you couldn’t go anywhere without seeing a billboard with his face plastered on it, a cruel reminder that he was still Joe Burrow, still untouchable, still larger than life—just not yours anymore.

Columbus was quiet. A fresh start.

Your best friend had a cozy apartment near downtown, and the first night you arrived, she didn’t ask questions. She didn’t push. She just ordered takeout, opened a bottle of wine, and let you sit in silence.

That first week, you didn’t do much.

You slept too much, or not at all. Some nights, you laid awake staring at the ceiling, wondering if Joe was doing the same. Other nights, exhaustion won, and you crashed so hard you barely dreamed.

The dreams were the worst.

Because in them, he was still yours.

You still woke up to the sound of him moving around in the kitchen, still felt the weight of his arm draped over your waist, still heard his voice murmuring morning, baby in that slow, sleep-rough tone he always had.

But then morning would come, and none of it was real.

So, you started over.

You got a cat.

It wasn’t planned—you had just gone to the shelter one afternoon, thinking you’d look, thinking maybe it would distract you for a few minutes. But then you saw her.

Small. A little scrappy. White with a black spot over her eye, looking at you like she had already decided you belonged to her.

The name came easily.

“Larry,” you told the adoption worker, lips twitching into something like a smile. “Her name is Larry.”

Joe would’ve laughed at that.

Joe would’ve—

No.

This wasn’t about Joe.

Larry was yours.

So you took her home, bought her the stupidest, most ridiculous toys you could find, and let her curl up on your chest at night, purring so loudly it drowned out the silence.

You learned how to French braid.

You had never bothered before—your hair had always been something he liked, something he ran his fingers through when he was half-asleep on the couch. But now? Now, you spent hours watching tutorials, standing in front of the mirror, fingers twisting and looping until, finally, you got it right.

It was small, stupid even. But it was something just for you.

You started reading.

At first, it was just a way to pass the time—something to do instead of scrolling through Instagram, instead of wondering what he was doing. But then you fell into it, deep. You found yourself curled up on the couch for hours, lost in stories, letting yourself escape into other people’s lives.

Romance novels were hard at first. Because love still felt like a wound, like something sharp and raw and too close to home.

But one day, months after the breakup, you found yourself reading a love story and not feeling like your chest was caving in.

That was progress.

You cooked for yourself.

You had always cooked for Joe—his favorites, his comfort foods, the meals he requested after long practices. But now, you cooked what you wanted. You tried new recipes, bought ingredients you had never used before, made dishes with no one else’s preferences in mind.

It was weird, at first.

But then, one night, you sat at the table, eating something just for you, and it didn’t feel lonely.

It felt… peaceful.

You went on long walks, alone, with no one to check in with. You bought flowers for yourself. You started journaling, writing down things you had never let yourself think too hard about.

You let yourself exist.

And one day—on a random, unremarkable afternoon—you realized something. It had been weeks since you last thought of him.

Not that he was gone.

Not that it didn’t still hurt, sometimes, in quiet moments when you weren’t expecting it.

But for the first time, in a long, long time—

You felt like you. Without him.

[nemisuki]

The Audacity

Synopsis || You've come to the realization that your boyfriend is way too gorgeous to be outdoors alone, time to show everybody he's taken... in your own secret way.

᧔o᧓ || katsuki bakugo x f!reader, she/her pronouns, fluff, no smut or angst, physical touch, kinda suggestive if u squint, flirty and jealous reader, flustered bkg, aged up to seniors, dating au, short fluff oneshot, silly moments, he’s just a lil guy, 806 word count

She couldn't believe the spontaneous words exiting his mouth, there's no way her blonde — who possesses such high levels of intelligence — could be this dense!

The girl jolts up from under the covers, sitting on the bed to give him her full attention.

"Wait wait wait, what did you say?"

His brows furrowed with confusion at her sudden interest, as he mindlessly grabs his phone, slipping it into the side pocket of his trousers.

"I said I'm gonna go buy snacks, ain't shit in the dorms-"

"Dressed like that?!"

The question left her lips before he could even finish, a look of disapproval on her face.

His head snaps back at her in response to the verbal objection — internally wondering what the hell is going on — it's not like her to comment on such trivial matters.

"The fuck? What's wrong with it?"

A frown threatens to form at her concerns, he didn't put much thought behind his clothes. Why should he for such a quick trip-

"You're wearing the sluttiest outfit!"

Everything around him seems to freeze for a moment and he looks utterly dumbfounded.

What in the world is she on about?

"Grey sweatpants AND a black tank top? Oh hell no... you look way too good."

She abruptly stands up and marches in his direction, a visible pout on her face as she shamelessly checks him out, her eyes practically glued on his torso.

The tight fabric only enhances the outline of every muscle and crevice of that chiseled work of art. It doesn't help that his overall physique has grown more prominent throughout their years at UA.

It's simply not fair to look that good so casually, it's sickening!

"So you're jealous?"

A smug smile slowly forms on his face as he reaches out — grabbing a hold of her waist to pull her in — leaning down to get a good look at her.

Feeling his ego skyrocket at her silly declarations.

Those red eyes sparkling with amusement, only causes her thoughts to multiply the longer she stares into them.

Then it suddenly clicks.

"Not at all, but I AM a bit territorial."

He suddenly freezes as she lessens the remaining distance between them, y/n confidently pressing a soft kiss to his neck, the feeling leaving a warm sensation on his skin.

Tingles spread to every part of his body.

His grip on her waist slightly tightens at the contact. Her eyes glanced at his neck then met his flustered gaze a few seconds later.

A gentle smile on her face that causes him to break away from her touch — so overwhelmed he fears things might escalate — shying away just in case, not wanting to seem like a lovesick fool.

"You- uh- I'm heading off now idiot!"

He grabs whatever jacket was at the entrance and hastily puts it on, trying to ignore the increase of his rapid heartbeat.

For some reason she begins giggling behind him, he could only assume she knew how flushed his face was.

"Mkayyyy be safe~"

"Yeah yeah I know."

He walks out of the dorm room in no time, making his way out of campus — in the direction of the nearest convenience store — silently thinking to himself about how much of an idiot she is.

And how much of an idiot he is for her.

Soon enough he reaches the store, grabbing all the snacks he saw necessary, not forgetting to put her favorites in the basket simultaneously.

It was only after a few minutes, when he began noticing multiple stares directed at him while walking around the aisles. His brows furrow with annoyance as he approaches the cash register.

He begins handing the old lady his items, trying to think of a reason for all the unwanted attention he's been receiving since he arrived, what's with everyone?

"Ah you're in love young man? How adorable."

His eyes snapped to the woman behind the counter, caught off guard by her sudden question, suspiciously giving her a once-over.

"Hah? What makes you say that?"

She simply chuckles in response and points at his neck, handing him his change and bag of goodies.

He awkwardly walks out of the store, completely clueless as to what the hell just happened. Out of curiosity, he takes out his phone and opens the camera, his eyes widening at the sight.

A vibrant kiss mark planted right on his neck — her tinted lipstick on full display for everyone to see.

His mind goes on overdrive as he remembers her laugh and words. That possessive brat did this on purpose!

He quickly puts on his hood and dials her number, rushing back to the dorms with purpose. She happily answers at the first ring, oblivious to the chaos she brought upon herself.

"Katsuki hey what's up-"

"YOUR SO FUCKING DEAD!"

"Uh-oh..."

*Your call was disconnected*

✦ ⎯⎯⋆ ˚｡⋆ ୨ masterlist || taglist || intro || socials ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⎯⎯ ✦

a/n ||| im trying to think of what to write for valentines day and i have ZERO clue, idk what trope or au to do ughhh. obviously it's gonna be bkg related but im fr so lost! anywayssss wrote this randomly at 2 AM, going to knock out now nighttttt! tags ||| @leleyro @zaiban2989 ໒꒰ྀི ´๑  ̫๑`  ꒱ྀིა

[vampzity]

restrictions | S.CB

★ DAY NINE: BONDAGE WITH CHANGBIN ★

pairing: bf! changbin x f! reader

Changbin never liked it when you misbehaved. It drove him nuts and you knew that. Yet you loved every punishment and every restraint that came with it. He was bound to show you what exactly happens when you go against him.

[warnings]: MDNI 18+!!, smut, dom! changbin, bondage, rough sex, oral (m. receiving), hair pulling, spanking , slight choking??, pet names (baby, slut, doll, pretty, good girl), cursing, changbin sees mc as his “doll”

word count: 1.5k

“What the fuck is your problem?!”

Changbin stormed into your shared bedroom, seeing that you were still dressed in your light blue babydoll dress and white heels. The babydoll was see through, enough to show the matching lingerie set you wore underneath.

You sat on the bed, arms crossed as he yelled at you. He slammed the door behind him, beyond annoyed with your impulsive actions.

“You never told me your friends were coming over. You just told me to sit in the room and wait.”

You pouted at him, looking away from the harsh glare he gave you. He pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head as he walked over to the dresser. He opened it, shuffling through it as you attempted to reason with him.

“I just wanted to show you my outfit. You forgive me, right Binnie?”

You received no answer, watching as he chuckled to himself. You tried to peek around him only to no avail as his figure was a lot bigger than your line of vision.

“I try to give you benefit of the doubt, give you some freedom.” Changbin closed the drawer, placing the things he grabbed on the top of the dresser.

“But you keep testing my patience, over and over.”

He turned around, walking over to your body. A large red ribbon was roped in his hands, his once calm look now a cold one. Your gaze met his as he waited for you to put your hands out. You kept them to yourself, knowing that there was no use in reasoning with him at this point.

He held his hand out, signaling for you to put both of your wrists out for him. You shook your heard in refusal, unsure of how unruly his punishment would be this time around. He sighed one of disappointment, rolling his eyes.

“You have 5 seconds before I start tallying.”

You immediately held your arms out, looking down as you tried to avoid his gaze. He wrapped the ribbon around your wrists, tying them together tight enough to cut off your circulation. He pulled you by your hands, bringing you to your feet so that you stood in front of him.

Your eyes still averted him, but he was quick to hold your chin up. His eyes hung low, a small smile painting his face as the grip on your chin tightened.

“Listen to me, and listen real good.”

He unbuckled his pants, letting the zipper fall. His buldge poked out from his underwear, ready to burst out of them. He pulled out his cock, pushing your shoulder down so that you sat on your knees. You eyed his member, watching how it throbbed in front of you as his hand ruffled through your hair.

“I’m gonna fuck this pretty face of yours, and when I’m done,” he glanced over to the bed, his eyes falling to the hooks that would hold your ropes.

“I’ll be sure to put good use of this little dress you put on for me.”

Your heart sank, meeting his low eyes. He smirked at you, tapping his tip against your lip softly. He smeared his head against your lips, groaning at how soft they felt.

“Be a doll and open for me will you?”

You did as you were told, allowing him to slip his length into your mouth. He let out a soft groan, moving his hips slowly. His hand held the back of your head as he fucked your face, being careful to make sure you don’t choke.

He let go of your head, nodding at you to continue while he stood there. You swirled your tongue around his cock head, looking up to see him smirk at you. Drool seeped from the side of your mouth and into your chest, while coating his dick in the process.

Changbin tilted his head at you, sighing at how slow you were being with him. He grabbed a fist full of your hair, making a yelp escape you as you flinched under his touch.

“You think that’s funny, eh?!” You quickly shook your head no, afraid of his sudden remark.

He grabbed your head, shoving his cock back inside of your mouth and fucking you harshly. You gagged repeatedly as his head pushed against the back of your throat, feeling slight mounts of air leaving you. Your teeth grazed against the skin of his length, making a loud groan leave his mouth.

“Fuck, fuck baby..”

He slammed his cock into your mouth, admiring the drool dripping down your chin. Changbin wasn’t average either, oh no. He was big. He had girth and unfortunately for you, he was going to make you take it.

He pushed your head against his dick as he fucked you, throwing his head back in pleasure. Spirts of his precum lined your mouth, his dick throbbing in agony as he tried so hard to hold himself back. His thrust grew harder by the second, unable to keep himself in check as he got sloppy with you.

Hot loads of his cum filled your mouth as he continued to fuck himself through his orgasm. His cum dropped down from your chin onto your chest, nearly choking on as you were helpless with no hands to use.

“That’s it pretty, swallow it all like a good girl.”

Changbin pulled his cock out of you, watching as you licked the remains off his tip. He smirked, dragging you up by your arms and sitting you on the bed.

He undid the ribbon, switching it to one side as he placed another red ribbon on the other. He tied them to the hooks of the bed, keeping you in a position where your ass was facing him. He pulled on the restraints, making sure they were secure before walking over to the dresser and pulling something from ontop of it.

Changbin walked back over to you, pulling down his pants and getting into bed with you. He tied a gag ball around your face, stuffing the gag into your mouth and tied extra ribbon around your ankles, keeping your legs in place so you couldn’t move at all.

“Since you want to walk around like you’re some kind of slut.” he held a vibrator to your clit, turning it onto the highest setting.

“You can get treated like one too.”

He moved the toy against your bud, earning an overwhelming amount of moans and whimpers from you, only for them to be blocked by the gag. He rubbed the head of his cock slowly, watching as your legs shook uncontrollably at the pressure.

“Not so sorry now, huh?”

You stood there helpless as he abused your pussy, body feeling weak as your climax built inside of you. A loud smack rang through your ears, your ass suddenly tingling from the sensation that made you cry out.

“See how obedient you are for me?” he landed another smack to your ass, your skin turning a light shade of red. “That’s how I like you to be.”

He held his dick and rubbed it against your wet entrance before pushing himself in. He groaned in pleasure, taking his thrusts slow as he held the vibrator to your clit. A white ring formed around his member, as you had already let yourself go under the pressure.

“Aw cummed already? I hope you know that I’m not done with you babydoll.”

He held the vibrator against your clit, letting his thrusts fasten as you cried out in pleasure. Your cunt squeezed around him, barely able to take all of him in from how tight you were. You tugged at the bondage, body shaking from the overstimulation.

“Fuck, you’re so tight baby. I gotta open you up.”

Changbin spread your ass slightly, admiring at how stretched out you were becoming for him. Your pussy was swollen from his girth, from the constant abuse he gave it.

You whimpered, struggling to say anything as the gag made it harder for you. He dropped the vibrator, grabbing onto your waist and ramming into your sore cunt. You cried out, begging for him to slow down as his cock forced your walls open. His head brushed against your sweet spot, pounding it with every thrust.

“You’re such a good girl for me baby.” he threw his head back, cursing at the ceiling with every squeeze your cunt gave him.

“Look at how well you’re taking me, fuck.”

He leaned over your fragile body, kissing your back softly. His nails dug into your skin, your ass growing sore from how hard he pounded into you. He grabbed onto your hair, pulling your head back as you whimpered in pleasure.

“Gonna cum in this pretty pussy of yours baby. Need you leaking.”

Changbin smacked your ass for a last time, sweat trickling down his forehead as you struggled to keep your body from falling apart underneath him.

In no time he let out a loud moan, letting himself go inside of you. He worked his cum into your hole, being sure to not let any spill out of you before pulling out. He watched your hole ache for his size, slightly stretched from the abuse. He kissed your lower back softly, kneading his fingers into your ass.

“Next time you’ll know not to test my patience, isn’t that right doll?”

back to valentine’s masterlist

a/n: YIPPEE DAY 9! lowkey thinking of doing a bonus special when this is all done. i’m thinking twt links for ateez & skz ? 🤭

taglist: @dvrktvnnel @scarfac3 @jjongibears @dollywoo @h4untedgrl @rvereri @joonezra @yyaurii @hwasddeongbyeoli @mingtinysworld @tiredlittlevirgo @honeyhwaaa @evidive @inniesfanblog @bluesungology @stephanieeeyang @potentialgay @galaxy4489 @nickgurl4life @fangirljas929 @desirehorizon @channiesluvrclub

[alessandra-14]

A slip of the tongue

Dean Winchester x sister!reader and slightly Sam Winchester x sister!reader

Summmery: After a tough hunt, leaving the three hunters bruised and hurt and Dean angry at his little sister. But when she slips up and calls him "Dad," everything shifts.

Warnings: none really

(It's been requested weeks ago but I just now I managed to get it done)

Being raised by two older brother who don't really know what they're doing, may not be to ideal but for Y/N that's all she could have asked for.

Their dad was rarely ever home, usually away on hunt and blinded by the need to revenge his wife. So Dean and Sam had no other choice than to step in and raise her to be a strong smart woman. And she wouldn't trade that for anything in this world.

Like that one time when Dean tried to get her ready for the day.

“Sam, do you know how to braid hair?” Dean asked, frowning at the tangled mess called a ponytail. She was 5, sitting cross-legged on the motel bed, flipping through an old, dog-eared picture book.

“No, but I’m not the one who promised she’d look like a princess today,” Sam shot back, rolling his eyes. He was fifteen, gangly and awkward but always ready to help.

Then Dean also rolled his eyes and glared at his little brother. "You know you don't have to be so sassy all the time Sammy." He sayed in an obnoxiously annoying tone, to which Sam didn't say anything further.

Dean huffed, trying to mimic the motions he’d seen in some movie Y/N had made them watch. “Hold still, kid. You’re gonna look amazing.”

Or that time when both brothers decided to take her to the fair after she had been begging to go there for days.

The fairground lights twinkled and Y/N was full of energy, practically dragged her brothers toward the entrance.

“Dean! Funnel cake first! No, wait—the merry-go-round!” she shouted, her voice rising above the carnival buzz.

“Slow down!” Dean laughed and quickly tried catching up to her. Sam slightly less enthusiastic, rolled his eyes but followed close behind.

They played games. Dean won her a stuffed lion and they shared a funnel cake, When they reached the ferris wheel, Y/N squeezed into the seat between her brothers, resting her head on Dean’s arm.

“This is the best night ever,” she whispered already sleepy and exhausted after this fun night out.

Dean smiled, pulling her close. “Yeah, kiddo. It is.”

But their lives weren't always fun and peaceful. More often than not it was the complete opposite. John's anger, the constand yelling and fighting between Sam and John, the hunting. Oh especially the hunting.

The two brothers were never a big fan of taking her with them on hunts but John insisted she had to learn, so they hadn't much of a choice than to agree. But after seeing how good she actually is at this they decided to let her tag along even after John was long gone.

The Impala’s rumble was a soothing constant, a reminder of safety despite the chaos that had just unfolded. Sam’s face was taut with worry as he pressed a blood-soaked rag against her arm, the gash beneath stinging like fire. Dean’s jaw was clenched as he drove like a mad man, his knuckles white against the steering wheel.

Y/N sat in the backseat, trying not to wince every time the car hit a bump. Blood was soaking through her white shirt, but she knew better than to complain about a piece of clothing at the moment. Even if she really loved that shirt.

The hunt had gone sideways—what a surprise.

Dean and Sam had both sworn to protect their sister at all costs. But lately, she’d been trying to prove she could handle herself, trying to show them she wasn't just the kid tagging along anymore.

It was supposed to be a simple salt-and-burn. Ghosts were her bread and butter. Something relatively easy to handle. But this one had been different. Angry. Vengeful. And ridiculously fast. Before anyone could react, it had slashed at her, sending the girl flying into a set of windows.

“Pull over,” Sam said suddenly, breaking the silence. His voice was calm but firm. “I need to stitch this up before she loses too much blood. We've waisted to much time so far."

Dean didn’t argue, which was how she immediately could tell he was mad. He pulled into the parking lot of a dingy gas station, threw the car into park, and slammed the door shut behind him as he got out.

Sam turned to his sister, pulling out the first-aid kit. “You okay?”

“Peachy,” she said through gritted teeth.

Sam sighed but didn’t push it. His hands were steady as he threaded the needle and got to work, his murmured apologies lost in the sharp sting of every pull. Y/N tried to focus on the familiar sounds of Dean pacing outside the car, his boots crunching on gravel.

When Sam finished, he gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze and got out to check on Dean. The girl was alone for maybe thirty seconds before the driver’s side door opened and Dean slid in loudly. He turned to face her, his green eyes scanning her pale and tear struck face and then her bandaged arm.

“You okay, kiddo?”

“I’m fine,” She muttered, avoiding his gaze.

“Fine?” His voice was sharp, edged with frustration and anger. “You know you could’ve died back there.”

She flinched at his firm tone. “I wasn’t trying to get hurt, Dean.”

“You think that matters?” he snapped. “You’re supposed to be careful. You’re supposed to stay back and let us handle it. We know what we are doing!”

“I know what I am doing too and most importantly I’m not a little kid anymore!!”

“Well, you sure as hell act like one sometimes!”

The words hit her harder than she wanted to admit. Y/N looked down at her lap, blinking back tears. She knew he didn’t mean it—not really. Dean was scared. He always got like this when something happened to her or Sam. But that didn’t make it sting any less.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered after an intense silence.

Dean sighed heavily, dragging a hand down his face. His voice softened. “I just—damn it, I can’t lose you. You get that, right? You and Sam… you’re all I’ve got.”

The tears she’d been holding back spilled over, and before she could stop yourself, the words slipped out.

“I know, Dad.”

The silence that followed was definitely awkward.

Her heart sank as soon as she realized what she’d said. “I—I mean, Dean. I didn’t mean. I—”

But he didn’t look angry. His eyes widened for a moment, then softened into something she couldn’t quite place. He reached out, his calloused hand gentle as it gripped her left hand.

“Hey,” he said softly, cutting off her rambling. “It’s okay.”

She looked at him worried and confused, her bottom lip trembling. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Yeah, you did,” he said, a small, sad smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “And it’s okay. You’re my kid as much as you’re my sister. Hell you’ve always have been.”

The weight of his words settled over her, warm and reassuring. For the first time since she’d climbed into the Impala, the tightness in her chest loosened even for just a moment.

“Thanks, Dean,” She whispered.

“Don’t thank me,” he said gruffly, though his hand lingered for a moment longer before he pulled away. “Just… stop scaring the crap outta me, alright?”

She nodded, a small smile breaking through. “I’ll try.”

“Good.” He started the car, the familiar rumble filling the space and waited for Sam to come back in too. “Now, let’s get you patched up for real. And next time, you’re wearing body armor, I don’t care how stupid it looks.”

Sam climbed back in, raising an eyebrow at the sudden shift in mood but wisely deciding not to comment. As the Impala roared back onto the highway, Y/N leaned her head against the window, a strange sense of peace settling over her.

Dean might not have been her dad in the traditional sense, but in every way that mattered, he was. And now, she didn’t have to pretend otherwise.

[secretlysamcro]

Black female reader x Jax Teller SMUT, violence, explicit language & possible spoilers If you’re under the age of 18, haven’t finished the show or dislike any of said topics, please read no further.

Request: “Reader is the well liked bartender at the Sam crow clubhouse who has know Jax and the club since childhood. Jax and reader have essentially become friends with benefits though he secretly hold deeper feelings. Tara comes back to town causing Jax to start icing out reader and placing his focus on Tara. Because of this reader calls the arrangement off with Jax who acts like he doesn’t care at first , however once he sees the reader entertain other men, Jax becomes jealous and possessive and decides to profess his feelings to the reader who shares the same sentiments. This causes a fight that spins into smut 😈They have sex and she decides to be his old lady”

Backstory: y/n & Jax have known each other for years, growing closer in the past year though, since Tara left Charming. Being the favourite bartender in the SAMCRO clubhouse has a lot of benefits. Brothers who have your back, free booze and now, the possibility of being dicked down by the VP whenever the fuck you want. Both you and Jax have already broke the ‘no feelings, just sex’ rule but neither of you have said it out loud but now… you’re both gonna pay for it. Tara’s back on the scene again, and Jax not knowing where his loyalty lies, fucks up…big time.

The sons roll into the SAMCRO parking lot, their engines cutting out one by one. It had been a long run, miles of open road but their business was handled. With just enough tension left to make them want to get drunk.

Jax, the first off his bike, swings off rolling his neck as he leads the way inside. He already knew what the others didn’t, the usual pretty sight wouldn’t be behind the bar tonight.

Chibs stretches his arms over his head, cracking his back “Christ, I need a whiskey”

“Make it two” Tig says, rubbing a hand down his face as they follow Jax inside.

The usual noise was present in the clubhouse. Music playing low but just enough to hear, the usual crow eaters loitering around. The bar however, missing their favourite bartender. No familiar smile, no teasing remarks, no y/n.

Tig let’s out a groan “Where the hell is y/n” he questions.

Chibs looks around with his brows raised, before joining in on the protest. “Aye, place feels off when she’s not here”

Bobby already dropping into a chair, gives a lazy shrug “don’t think she’s working tonight”

“Since when does she ever take a day off” Juice pipes up, sounding personally offended.

“I heard cherry say last night before we left y/n wouldn’t be in” Bobby relays what he had heard.

Jax smirks to himself but stays quiet, heading straight over to the bar and grabbing a beer for himself. He pops the cap off with his teeth before taking a swig.

The clubhouse was alive with conversation and the clinking of glass as the guys settled in. Cherry moved behind the bar filling drinks and flashing flirty smiles, but it never felt the same when y/n was missing.

Jax, sat among them, unbothered as he nursed a beer with his free hand. Every so often, he pulled his phone out, his thumb hovering over the screen as he checks the time. He doesn’t say a word about what or who he was waiting for, and no one bothered to ask.

Across the room, Happy was in his usual spot, sprawled out in a chair with a crow eater draped over each side of him. He moves between them effortlessly, kissing one before turning to the other, his hands roaming over the both of them, not caring about the eyes on him.

Bobby scoffs, nudging Tig before nodding towards what he’s witnessing, “Look at that greedy bastard” he says, shaking his head.

Tig smirks, raising his glass “gotta respect it”.

A low rumble pulls into the lot catching their attention, it wasn’t a bike, but it was just as recognisable.

Jax exhales, knowing exactly who it is. Stretching his back before pushing off the bar. No urgency, no rush just a quiet decision as he turns to walk away, disappearing down the hall.

The others notice Jax slip away, but think nothing of it.

Juice, who was closest to the door, checks outside. “Well, well, well, look who decided to show up”

The second you stepped inside, the air around the room changed. The conversations didn’t stop, but they slowed as all eyes flickered towards you. Your skin, deep brown and glowing under the dim clubhouse light. Your lips full and glossed just enough to catch the reflection. And as always, your hair flawlessly laid in your signature style that never loses its charm. Everyone noticed you, no matter where you went. You were the kind of beautiful that made men reckless.

Tig grinned, tilting his head towards your every move “You know sweetheart, I’d get down on one knee for you”. You scan the room briefly, realising that Jax is missing. Probably already in the place you're headed.

You don't skip a beat as you shoot back at Tig, “Oh really? I heard you’d do the same for Mrs. Venus too” you throw him a quick wink, as you recall how much he had been bragging about her a few nights ago, Tig being a little too drunk to keep his mouth shut. Laughter erupted around the bar as Tig clutched his chest in pretend hurt.

“Brutal” Chibs muttered, shaking his head before downing his drink.

You give a casual wave to the others. They nod, grinning in response. But you don’t slow down or stop to entertain them. Your path is now clear, and its obvious to them where you’re going.

The guys exchange knowing glances, immediately understanding now why Jax had snuck out moments before you entered. They’d been aware of this little thing you two had going on for a while now. It wasn't unusual for the two of you to disappear together, only to return moments later, as if nothing had happened.

Chibs lets out a low whistle, realising the deal “That boys down bad”

Tig rests his head in his hands, sighing dramatically at being rejected by you once again. “Every damn time, man”

You round the corner, Jax leaning against the door with a beaming smile plastered on his face. “You took your time” he says, his voice smooth but teasing.

“Had to get Tiggy off my back” you laugh, playing along.

He lets out a soft, amused breath, stepping aside just enough to let you slide through the door. His body stays in place, but his head follows you, almost mesmerised. As you pass, the brush of your hand just below his belt sends a small jolt through him.

“You coming or what?” you question with anticipation.

he laughs aloud, “trust me, we both will” he responds, his words thick with promise. He's got a devilish grin on his face, as he pushes off the wall, pulling his jeans up a little tighter following you into the dorm, the door clicking behind him.

If only one of you had the guts to speak up first, to admit that this little thing between you went far deeper than just the sex.

A week and a few days had passed since the last time Jax was buried deep within you, the longest time you’d gone this year without having sex, and ever since, something had been off.

At first it was subtle and easy to brush off. But tonight? It’s impossible to ignore and you’re done entertaining his attitude. As usual, the clubhouse was busy, the usual mix of members, hangarounds and crow eaters filling the spaces. You were in your usual spot behind the bar, keeping the drinks full and entertaining the guys with your usual back and forth banter.

He’d been shut off since he walked in, cold and distant, not even a ‘hello’ you’d seen him in his moods before, but this was something different. He was shutting you out completely. So, you decided to return the favor.

“You want a drink? or you just gonna keep standin’ there with your face all screwed up like that?” You ask, one hand on your hip and the other on the pump.

He moves away from the counter as you approach, his jaw tightening. “Nah, I’m good” he barely looks at you.

You let out a sharp laugh “that’s what I thought” you retort, as you move away serving someone else at the opposite side of the bar. The guys pick up on the tension immediately.

“Damn” Tig whispers under his breath, amused at the drastic shift between the two of you. Chibs raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything. Jax walking away avoiding any possible questioning.

You weren't directly near them but you could still hear, so when Juice, drunk and loose lipped mumbled something about Tara being back in town and how her and Jax were ‘figuring things out’ the realisation hit you like a brick.

Thats why he’d been so reluctant to touch you, talk to you, or even look at you. Because of her. Because of Tara.

No, you and Jax weren't together, just friends who fucked on the regular. No strings, no feelings. That was the deal. A deal that you had both broken without saying a word.

For a year, it’s been only him, and only you. Nobody else in either of your beds. So finding out he’s there trying to fix things with the one who left him, when just days ago it was you he was fucking. Yeah, it fucking hurts.

You hadn’t spoken to Jax in a week, He barely came up to the bar anymore. When he was at the clubhouse, he stayed hidden in the dorm or locked away in church, anywhere but near you.

Its nearing the end of the night, and you’re ready to leave the bullshit and the mayhem behind. You grab your bag, throwing your things together as you make your move towards the door.

The boys are saying their goodbyes to you as Happy pulls you into one of those brotherly hugs. The kind that always made you feel like you had someone in your corner. “Take care kid” he says into your ear.

You cling on to him for a second longer than usual, needing the warmth and reassurance. He was the older brother you never had, the one who could always read you better than anyone else.

You give a quick wave to the others and head for the door, avoiding Jax at all costs. He was slouched at the back table, watching you with that unreadable look. The same one he’d been giving you for days now, ever since Tara had shown back up. Fuck him though, why should you let him treat you like this.

You slam your car door shut, the sound echoing through the silence. The engine hums as you rub a hand over your face, finally able to breathe. Finally able to feel the weight of everything crashing down. The anger, the hurt, its all there now about to spill over until a knock at the window stops you. The darkness makes the figure hard to recognise, but the flash of those familiar fucking rings, you knew exactly who it was.

Your fists tightens on the wheel as you press the button, the windows sliding down. And there he was, stood with one hand resting on the roof, looking at you as if nothing had changed.

“Not staying? he questions, with that familiar arrogance, as if he expected you to turn around and run back to him.

Your face twists into a snarl “What the fuck would I be stayin’ for?”.

He leans in closer, that pathetic look in his eyes, the one he wears when he knows he’s fucked up “Its been a minute” he taps his finger against the frame, like that was suppose to mean something to you.

You scoff at his audacity, shaking your head “Didn’t notice” you shoot back, your tone less than happy.

He takes a long sigh, “you want me to beg or something?” the defensiveness creeping in.

“Aww, you miss me now? Tara not fucking you like I do?” you respond, the fake sadness in your voice as you scrunch up your face, letting the words sink in.

He stiffens, his jaw clenching, suddenly having nothing to say.

“Yeah, your boy juice runs his mouth when he’s fucking drunk” you snap, chewing the inside of your cheek. “That’s why you been actin’ like that. Cuttin’ me off cause you’re back with her?” You look him in the eye now, your lashes fluttering towards him, waiting for an answer.

Jax exhales sharply, dragging a hand down his face, looking like he’s thinking of something to say. Anything to say, but he’s coming up blank. He can see how pissed you are now, the little signs that someone else might not clock onto, but he already has.

He sees the way you keep biting your cheek, the way the curses roll of your tongue like a second language and how your fingers won’t stop twisting the rings on your hand.

“It’s not like that” he finally mutters, but you cut him off before he can even bullshit you.

“Not like what Jax?” You spit out “Not like you’ve been fuckin’ me for a year, sleepin’ in my bed and now shes back, you’ve gone running? Did you forget she was the one that left you?” You sprinkle that little insult at the end, knowing it would hit him where it hurt.

He just stands there silently staring at you, no emotion on his face at all.

You already know the next thing he’s gonna say is gonna piss you off, and when he finally opens his mouth, it does exactly that. Because instead of admitting his feelings for you, he takes the easier route. The one where he’s an asshole.

“It’s not behind your back” he says, once again his voice cold and detached, like none of this fucking matters, like you don’t matter. “No feelings, That’s what we said right?” He’s staring through you, not at you.

“Just sex. That’s all it’s ever been” He tilts his head slightly, acting like he doesn’t care. His lips portraying the tiniest smirk.

Your jaw clenches so fucking tight it aches, but all you can do is laugh. Not because you find this funny but because you cannot believe the audacity of this fucking man.

Deep down, you know Jax feels something for you, but he’d rather choke on it than admit the truth.

“Cool” you mutter, your voice being the one that’s now cold. You lean in, close enough to catch the whiskey haunting his breath. “If you need your dick sucked that bad, call your lil girlfriend”.

He stares back at you, not saying a word. You hold his stare, if he was gonna stop being a pussy and fix this, it was going to be now.

But he doesn’t. He pulls out his phone, taps the screen, the silence so powerful, you even hear the dial tone.

He grins right in your face “Hey Tara, you free tonight?”

The composure that you had left, snaps. You throw your hand up, getting ready to slap the shit out of him, but Jax is too quick, he jerks his head back just in time, and instead of hitting his face your nails rake across his cheek, a sharp deep scratch that immediately starts bleeding. You watch as the fury settles in his eyes.

You stare at him, your heart pounding. But he doesn’t retaliate. He slowly pulls back, his fingers grazing the cut that you had just left.

His eyes narrow as he sees the blood on his hand. He looks back at you, the muscles in his jaw flexing.

“You’re fucking crazy” he says through clenched teeth. Without another word, he watches you slam the car into reverse, your tires screeching as you leave the lot.

He’s fucked up. He knows he has, the second it happened. If he could take it back, he would. But the damage is already done. He’s made his bed, and now he has to lie in it… even if it means someone else other than you, filling the empty space next to him. He lights a cigarette, downing a shot as he waits for the one who broke his heart.

You weren’t even planning on going tonight. The annual SAMCRO cookout. Same faces, same bullshit, and him. Tonight though, you were done hiding. Fuck it, he made his choice and that choice was Tara.

You step out of the shower, the steam curling around you. You drag your nail through the thick lotion, the same nail that left the scar on Jax’s pretty face. Your hands glide over your smooth skin, the moisturizer sinking deep into your rich complexion. Then, comes the dress. The little black one that clings to your body like a second skin, the one he used to pull up with desperate hands. You slip it on, letting it mould to every curve, every dip on your body on display. Next, come your earrings. Big and gold, the shimmer catching against your mocha scented skin. You finish your outfit with your knee high boots and your long leather jacket. Thankfully, your apartment is only a five minute walk away, which works out just fine. Because you already know you’re about to get reckless.

Before you even hit the gates, you can already feel the energy. The music blaring, the smoke from the BBQ rising up, thick and heavy. You can hear the laughter, the chatter and the roar of the bikes as they pile in. The smell of meat grilling in the air, mixed with the familiar smell of trouble.

All the usual suspects, all the familiar shit. Thankfully, you’re not scheduled to work tonight. Gemma always gives you the night off for events like this. She’d rather you be part of the chaos then stuck behind the bar serving drinks.

As you walk into the lot, the place is packed. People spilling out of the clubhouse and bikes lined up like fucking soldiers. You’ve been around the club long enough, worked the bar long enough but for some reason tonight feels different.

“Y/N! You ready for my meat yet?” Tigs voice cuts through the noise, loud as hell. You turn to find him holding a jumbo hot dog, the bastards grinning like he’s just made the best joke in the world.

You roll your eyes as you stroll over, giving him a once over, deciding to play along. He’s standing alongside Chibs and Happy, thankfully no Jax in sight… yet. You’re unsure if they know what had happened the other night between the two of you, and frankly you didn’t give a shit. “And if I said yes?” You ask, matching his banter.

Tig nearly loses his shit. “I mean, who could resist” his smile sharpens. He doesn’t wait for you to respond, shoving the thing in your direction. Without hesitation, you bite down on the end of the hotdog, Tigs eyes jokingly darken as Chibs and Happy Jeer him on.

“How you been?” Happy asks, the way he’s watching you, it’s obvious they know.

You don’t want to go there, not now. So you spin some bullshit about how you just needed some time to yourself, trying to steer the conversation away from whatever the fuck happened with Jax.

Chibs, sensing the tension pulls you over to the side. “Y/N I’m telling you this cause I’ve got love you… we all do. But she’s here with him”.

Your stomach ties in a knot, but you don’t let it show. Of course she fucking is. You give Chibs a quick kiss on the cheek. He knows what’s up, he’s trying to look out for you without betraying Jax and you’re thankful for it, but it still fucking stings.

You push further into the madness. Weaving through the crowd, meeting familiar faces, sharing small talk here and there, but still, no sight of Jax, or her.

“Hey sweetheart” a hand slides over your shoulder and you feel the warmth before you even turn. It’s Gemma. “You smell good” she adds, her voice smooth as she steps closer to you.

"Hey Gem" you greet her, pulling each other into a hug.

She looks you over, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. "You feeling better?" she gets closer to you as she speaks.

"Yeah, thanks" you reply, forcing a laugh. You know she sees right through your 'I'm too sick to come to work' bullshit.

You and Gemma always got along, she never asked questions she didn't already have the answers to. She knew about you and Jax, even if it was never said out loud. She saw how he softened around you, how much more at ease he was with you, more than anyone else, and as his mother, she appreciated how you helped him get through the aftermath of Tara, even if it was all in secret and never 'official'. She had never gotten along with Tara, even before she left Jax in pieces.

She looks at you, a little deeper than usual. “You know I’d always have your back?” she says, her words are heavy almost like a warning. Its cryptic, but you know exactly what she means. This was her way of saying ‘do what you gotta do’, no matter what’s going on with Jax.

The door creaks open as you step in, it doesn't take long. Jax is sitting at the bar, his back to you and his shoulders relaxed, like nothing ever happened. Tara, sitting next to him whispering too easily in his ear. You fucking hate it, but you force it down.

You take your coat off and adjust your dress before heading straight towards the bar, your heels clicking against the concrete, like a pre warning. Without a second thought, you slide onto the stool, directly next to Tara, close enough, that your thigh nearly brushes hers and close enough to make him fucking suffer. You don't say a word, you don't look at them. You just exist in their space like you fucking belong there.

Juice is behind the bar, pretending to do something useful, but mostly just messing around with bottles. Tara completely oblivious, doesn't even notice the way the air thickens around you. She's still smiling, still talking to Jax, unaware of how the entire room dynamic, has just shifted.

"Tryna steal my job Ortiz?" you say, setting your coat on the side.

Jax hears your voice before he sees you, every muscle in him on edge, knowing you’re close. Juice's eyes immediately flick to you, and then over to Jax. His lip twitches like he's trying to hold in a laugh.

He laughs awkwardly, "someones gotta keep shit in order while you've been off the grid" his words are careful, like he's tiptoeing around a landmine, his eyes continuing to go between you and Jax.

You tilt your head slightly, "hmm" is all you respond.

Juice stands there, unsure of what to do, he rubs a hand over the back of his neck "you want a drink, or you just here to bust my balls?"

“Both” you say with a sweet smile. “whiskey... neat” your tone is effortless, like none of this fucking bothers you.

Jax is watching you. You can feel it, the burn of his eyes into the side of your face. His eyes never leave you. Cold and calculating, almost as if he's trying to figure out your next move but he doesn't say a word. He doesn't need to. He never expected you to show up tonight, and the second he heard you order a whiskey, he fucking knew. He knew tonight was bound to go south. He'd seen you drunk before, and with this shit brewing? Shit was never gonna end clean.

Juice places your drink in front of you, he extends his hand, offering to take your coat too. As soon as you rise from your seat, Jax's eyes drag over you. And then it hits him. That dress. His favourite fucking dress. The one he'd fist in his hands as he fucked you against any available surface. It's hugging every curve, taunting him. His jaw tightens, his fingers flexing against his beer. Fuck, he misses you.

You pick up your glass, turning to leave, but at the last second, you pause. Not for Jax though. For her.

You turn to Tara, your voice laced with fake sweetness "Missed home, huh?"

Jax is almost vibrating with tension, Tara is still completely oblivious. "Yeah, its good to be back" She smiles in your direction.

Jax's jaw is clenching. You still show him no interest. Your Gaze locked on Tara, and he knows, deep down, you're doing it on purpose, and its fucking killing him.

“Thanks Juice,” you say, tossing a grin over your shoulder before heading back into the crowd.

You barely make it outside, before your wrist is yanked, so hard your bracelets are digging into your skin. He pushes you discreetly against the wall outside the club, just out of sight.

His grip is tight, too tight and he’s barely holding himself together.

“You think this is some kind of fucking game?” His voice sounds more like a growl, his nostrils flaring in anger.

You tilt your head, finally giving him the attention he wants.

“Do you?” You say, almost as if you’re challenging him. He tightens his hold for just a second.

“Cut the shit” he growls, his voice rough.

You scoff, moving your face closer towards him, close enough that he can feel your breath on his top lip. “You started it” your voice is sharp and also taunting.

For a second, it feels as if he might snap, grab you or even kiss you, maybe he’ll completely lose it.

But you just smirk, slow and cruel and then you slip free from his grasp, turn and walk away.

He looks up into the air, exhaling a deep breath. A few steps away, stands Gemma witnessing it all.He stands there, his fists clenched as he watches you walk away, like he doesn’t want to chase after you, drag you back to where you belong.

But he doesn’t fucking move.

He doesn’t need to see her, to know she’s making her way over. He can feel it.

“Not now, ma” he says, exhaling hard through his nose and running a hand through his hair.

Gemma scoffs, stepping right up beside him. “I’ve seen you do some stupid shit, but pushing her away for Tara?” She shakes her head in disgust “you must be outta your goddamn mind”

“You don’t know shit” Still, he doesn’t move, his eyes tracking your every movement.

“I know everything, Jackson” she moves closer to him, her face inches from his. “I know watching her walk away is killing you, I know you feel something real for that girl, but I know you’re too much of a stubborn little shit to admit it” Jax goes to speak but she cuts him off just as quick. “So instead. You’re walking around with that stuck up heart breaker who’s already ruined you once?”

He says nothing, shifts his eyes slightly to Gemma, he knows she’s talking the truth, but like she said, he’s way too stubborn.

“Don’t be a goddamn coward Jackson” She shoves past him, her shoulder knocking his as she storms off.

You’ve spent the night effortlessly dodging both Jax and Tara, three drinks in and already you’re feeling the warmth spread through you. The alcohol just about taking the edge off, just enough for you to be able to relax a little.

You’ve caught up with Opie and Donna, laughing over their kids and life. The conversation being easy and light hearted. Opie, not mentioning Jax once. And you’re thankful for it.

You’re currently stood having a quick chat with Unser, the two of you standing next to the BBQ, a joint in hand. He offers, but you politely decline, pulling your own from your purse. Whiskey and weed? Probably not the best combo, but you’re too far gone to care right now. You’re still laughing at the shit show unfolding in front of you. Juice fumbles with the grill, burning nearly everything he touches.

“Give it here” Unser groans, rolling his eyes as he takes over the grill, his face giving that ‘’I’m too old for this shit’ kinda look.

You feel a presence right next to you, it’s unfamiliar but not unwelcome.

“Can I get you a drink?” The voice is deep but smooth. You recognise him but you don’t really know him, you remember the way he checks you out though. He’s one of those faces you always see at these kind of things, someone who’s always there but not quite in the circle.

You look him up and down, dark hair, full of tattoos and broad. He has that rough kind of vibe, but not in the biker way. Out of instinct, you almost decline, but then you remember who you’re dealing with. And if jax wants to play this game, then so can you. You don’t owe him shit.

“Lead the way” you respond, a flirty smile creeping upon your face. Your voice is calm, but inside, you already know what you’re doing.

Jax is sat at a table in the back of the clubhouse, a cigarette burning between his fingers, pretending like he's not coming apart at the seams. Chibs and Tig see it, the tightness in his jaw, the way his knee bounces up and down. But Tara? She's still clueless.

That's when you walk in.

His firm hand rests low on your back, steering you towards the bar. Jax clocks it instantly, he drags hard on his cigarette, the smoke hitting his lungs with force and then, you look at him, just for a second, but long enough to make it clear.

You slide onto a barstool, your body angled just right. Legs crossed, dress rising just enough to make a man sweat, your lips curved in that dangerous smile. But its not for the man in front of you. Its all for Jax.

You laugh, leaning closer, your hand grazing over his arm. Jax watching the whole damn time. He watches as you whisper something into his ear, he watches as you raise your hand, playing with the hairs at the back of his neck, just like you would do for him.

You're playing dirty, and he knows it, and its fucking working.

Jax swirls his glass in his hand, barely listening to whatever the fuck Tara's going on about. The muscles in his forearm flexing with how tight he's holding it. He watches how you bite your lip between sips, how your finger trails down the side of your glass, How you lean in too close when talking to him. He knows you, he knows when you're getting too loose, too reckless.

He shifts in his seat, trying to breathe through it. But its fucking impossible. Tara, grabbing onto his arm, snapping him back to the table "You okay?" He gives a sharp nod, but his eyes don't move off of you.

Chibs and Tig exchange a look, both of them knowing exactly what's about to unfold. They barely have time to react, before either of them try to steady him, he's already on his feet. He looks at Tara, "I’m sorry" he breathes out, the words cold but he doesn't care.

He's done pretending, that 'sorry' means its the end of whatever the fuck they had going on since she's been back. Tara blinks, she’s caught off guard by his bluntness. She cant read him right now, and he doesn't give her any time to try.

He yanks the guy back so fast his drink spills across the table, the glass smashing against the floor. You don’t even feel bad, because your petty plan has worked perfectly.

The room falls into a heavy silence, all eyes now on Jax. Tig and Chibs, already on standby in case shit gets out of hand. But the guy doesn’t even try to fight back. One look at Jax and he’s already backing away, his hands raised in surrender.

You scoff, shaking your head “are you foreal?”

He doesn’t answer, doesn’t even hesitate.

His hand wraps around your upper arm, fingers sinking into your flesh, hard enough to leave marks.

“Get the fuck up” he orders, his voice dangerous.

And that’s exactly what you do.

You let him drag you through the clubhouse, past the staring faces, stepping over the innocent guy who you sucked into your petty little game.

As you pass Tara, you flash her the bitchiest smile you can manage. Loving the way her face tightens, before Jax pulls you out into the cool night air.

She, doesn't even need to think about it, she knows exactly what's going on. Slowly, she picks her bag up from the floor, her hands trembling. She doesn't say a word, just straightens her back like she's maintaining control. But it’s all an act, she knows she's lost him.

Chibs shakes his head, he knows how this is going to end, and its only a matter of time before everything blows up. Tig on the other hand, sits there, grinning like Cheshire cat. He’s always had a twisted love from drama, and this is only the beginning.

He pulls you toward the garage. Shoving open the heavy metal door and yanking you inside. The second the door slams shut behind you both, you know shits about to get real.

Jax is pacing like a caged animal, his movements sharp and erratic. His chest rising and falling in heavy, uneven breaths. Sweat beads lined up in perfect formation along his brow and his hair a damp mess. He looks like a man about to lose his fucking mind.

Meanwhile, you're leaning comfy against the Chevy, which is due to be serviced tomorrow. Arms folded beneath your chest, the alcohol humming through your veins. You've seen Jax like this before, ready to throw hands, ready to tear through anything or anyone in his path. But being the one in his line of fire? its fucking delicious.

His fist slams into the side of the Snap-On toolbox, splitting his knuckles, the blood dripping to the ground.

"FUCK!" he shouts, not in pain but in fucking rage.

He shakes his hand, regaining his composure as he walks closer to you, his eyes full of frustration, and something else you recognise.

"Stop fucking playing with me" he seethes out, his voice thick with warning.

You tilt your head, that infuriating smile back on your face. "Or what?"

His jaw swings side to side, his anger just about contained, but you don't back down, you aint built like that.

"Wait, let me guess…" you taunt, cocking your hips further in his direction "…you don't want me no more, but no one else can have me, right?" your words leave your mouth strong and slow. "Well fuck that, I aint the one”

And that, was all it took.

Jax moves so fast you don't even see it coming. One second, you're testing his patience, the next, his hand is clamped round your throat.

His grip is a warning, a promise even. Anyone else might be scared, but you? you're aching for more, thighs clenched and your pulse racing.

You wanted to push him, to see how far he'd go, and fuck. You’ve got exactly what you wanted.

"You think I don't want you?" he's looking at you, fucking intensely. His grip tightening ever so slightly.

You raise your hands, gripping his. The blood from his knuckles a vibrant contrast against your dark skin. Your nails dig deep, leaving a new set of fresh marks on his flesh.

"YOU BEEN FUCKIN ACTIN LIKE IT! YOU RAN BACK TO THAT BITCH QUICK ENOUGH” Your voice trembles, barely holding your words together.

Jax releases your neck, shoving your hands off him equally as fast. "WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT ME TO SAY Y/N? YOU WANT ME TO SAY SORRY?" His voice echoes through the garage.

You shake your head, the disbelief washing over you. "I don't want your sorry Jax" Your hand hovers where his grip just laced your skin. "I want the fuckin’ truth" you say softly, a desperate edge to your voice.

He knows exactly where you're going with this. This has never just been about sex, and you both knew that this moment was going to come sooner or later. He exhales harshly, his hands against his face like he's praying for some fucking patience.

"Tell me you don't have feelings for me" you whisper, your voice trembling but still powerful. "Tell me you don't love me the way I love you".

Fuck. You just drunkenly confessed you're in love with him. There's no turning back now. You've broken the rules first. The words are out, raw and real and your confession hangs in the air.

Silence.

For a moment, you see it in his eyes, the vulnerability, the fear and the truth he wont fucking say.

But then, just like that, its gone.

Anger rises over you again, you scream, shoving him and pounding your fists against his chest "TELL ME!" you're desperate to hear the words, to know you're not alone in this.

And then, he breaks.

"You want me to say it?" His voice comes out as a low growl, something almost wicked.

Then, he spins you around, your back now in line with his chest.

"Jax! what the fuc-" Your words are cut short. Too distracted by the rough tug of his hands, dragging your dress, his favourite dress, up your thighs and exposing your curves in his most favorite way.

He presses a heavy hand to the centre of your back, forcing you to arch against the hood of the car.

"You wanna hear me say it?" He repeats, his belt clinking as he fumbles to get it undone.

You're so fucking ready for him, you can't even get the words out, but the moan that escapes your lips tells him, its exactly what you want.

His fingers slide between your thighs, parting you, gliding between your wetness.

"You knew it was gonna end like this, didnt you? All fucking wet, begging for it. Thats why you've been pushing me so hard…ain’t that right darlin’" he leans his body weight over you now, his stubble pressed against your cheek.

You laugh under his force, because he's right. This is exactly what you wanted.

And that's what pushes him over the edge, because he knows it too.

He kicks your legs apart, lining himself up perfectly.

And then he's inside of you, burying himself back where he belongs with a slow, dominant thrust.

A broken moan rips from your throat as he fills you, stretching you so perfectly, you can't even breathe. He groans into your ear, gripping your hips so tight you know you'll still be wearing his fingerprints tomorrow.

"Fuck y/n" he's panting fast, dropping his forehead against your shoulder. "You feel so...fucking..." and then, he goes harder, throwing his head back in pure bliss.

The car rocks with every thrust beneath you, your palms flat against the cold metal hood, as he fucks you like he wants to ruin you.

His hands slide up your body, wrapping around your throat once again, tilting your head back so that he can kiss you. It’s deep and messy, just how you like it.

"You wanted the truth?" he breathes out, the impact of his thrusts getting harder. Another loud, elongated moan is your only response.

"I fucking love you" he mutters into your ear as your nails dig into the metal.

He reaches a hand underneath you, circling your clit, slow and deliberate drawing whimpers from your mouth. He knows exactly how you like it.

You lift one leg, draping it over the edge of the hood, giving Jax the freedom to adjust himself. His hands grip your thighs as he pulls you closer, shifting his angle and deepening the connection between the two of you.

"Fuck, this is gonna kill me" He laughs. The garage is too cramped, the car an awkward height for Jax's tallness and the hood is freezing against your back.

You sit up straight, the intensity as strong as ever, he slides his hands down your body, brushing against your skin. You're crashing into the metal shelves, knocking tools over in the process. The loud clanking sounds echo around the room but it doesn't stop either of you. It only adds to the chaos of the moment.

You guide him toward the corner of the garage, Jax kicks off his jeans and boxers in a fast move, his breath quickening, both of your eyes dark with hunger as he slides himself down against the wall. Without wasting another second, you hover above him, slowly sliding down onto his thick cock with a low, breathless moan. You're in control now, and he loves it.

You bury your face into his shoulder, muffling your moans. "Fuck! y/n" he groans, his hands digging into your ass cheeks as he tries to make you move faster.

His eyes burn with need as he watches you fuck yourself on him, rolling your hips in deliberate moves, your moans getting louder with each one. "I love you too" the words escape your lips, Jax's cock twitching in response.

Outside, Chibs, Juice and Tig are making their way to the garage, following after you both in the aftermath of the mayhem you had left behind. They stop for a moment, hearing things knocking around, but the absence of voices has them confused.

"You think they're fucking or fighting in there?" Tig laughs, squeezing Chibs’ shoulders from behind.

Chibs takes a long drag from his cigarette "Who the fuck knows...could be both".

And then they hear it.

The sound of you and Jax coming together, both of your moans filling the air like a perfect fucking harmony.

The desperate guttural sounds of pleasure echoing through the garage, and into the parking lot outside, making it impossible for anyone nearby to ignore. Your soaked walls flutter around his cock as you both hit your peak, your bodies trembling together.

The guys stop dead in their tracks, eyes wide as they all look around at each other in a mixture of disbelief and amusement.

"Yeah… they’re definitely fucking" Tig laughs, they spin on their heels avoiding the garage at all costs. They know exactly what's happening in there, and they sure as hell aren't about to interrupt.

Photos & gifs do not belong to me, just edited together.

If I had a £ for every time I wrote the word fuck or fucking in this story, I’d be fucking rich 💀

Again, please don’t take anything written as a stereotype/generalisation I’m writing from my own black heart lol 🖤

Thank you for your requests! Love a bit of jealous Jax. | Also, apologies for not adding in the old lady bit, I tried and it worked smoother ending it here, but I can always do a part two…

(Slowly getting through one request at a time, so please don’t think I’m ignoring or not doing them, just doing them in the order that they come in)

Jax Teller Masterlist

xoxo secretly samcro

[quxyivs]

hey bbg GIVE ME THE MOST DISGUSTING railway inspired chan fic LIKE I NEEDD ITTTT

Possessive

Parings - Dom Vampire!Chan x Sub! Fem Reader / Genre - Smut (Mdni!)

Cw - Lots of blood, p in v, cream pie (wrap it up ppl), biting, Chan refers to reader as his pet, porn with very little plot, reader is tied down, Chan feeds the reader his blood (cause gotta have the railway ref.) Reader is called slut, Chan is called sir, BIG DICK CHAN🗣️🗣️ no spell check🙏🏾🙏🏾

_ ꒰꒰ ᠀୧ __ Synopsis ‿‿ Bangchan hates how much you’re around Changbin, always fawning over him too. So he decides to teach you a lesson on who you belong too

╬ Authors Note 𓈒 ་། 𓇻 This took me so long mostly because I had NO idea how I wanted to approach this

You were always known for your friendly nature. You would always go and hang out with your friends almost like every other day. At first Chans didn’t mind the fact that you spent a lot of time with your friends. You’re a human and you deserve the chance to be free! However.. it became a problem when you started hanging out with his other vampire mates. Especially Changbin. You were always ogling at his arms. Always complimenting his body.. it was starting to piss him off.

Today was no different. Changbin was over and you were fawning over his arms. Every flex, every noise. All of it was making Chan’s blood boil. The final straw is when you and Changbins hand nearly touched. He instantly snapped and told Changbin he had to leave. After practically throwing Changbin at the house Chan marched towards you.

“In the bedroom. Right fucking now.” He said his voice deep and leaving no room for argument. As you got into the bedroom he slammed the door and locked and tossed you onto the bed. “You wanna be a fucking slut? I’ll show you what happens to sluts.”

Chan rips off your clothing almost in a single tear. “I-i wasn’t being a slut sir-!! I was-“ “Shut your mouth. Not another fucking word yeah? I’m gonna make sure that you’re not friendly with another fucking vampire.” He leaned towards your neck as he took a huge bite, his fangs seeping deep into your skin and drawing blood. He licks the blood and chuckles lowly before sitting up and biting his own arm drawing blood.

“Open wide.” He grabs you by the mouth forcing your mouth open as he lets his blood drip into your mouth. “There we go.. now you won’t ever need another vampire.. you’ll be mine..” He said into your ear. He then grabbed a rope from the dresser and tied your arms up to the headboard as his hands traveled down your body leaving hickeys and bite marks.

He eventually got you wet dripping folds but instead of eating you out he sat up and undid his pants, his cock springing free. “S-sir… that’s not going to fit it’s too big-…!!” You whimpered out. You knew it would fit, it always did, but the sheer size of it just always made you shake and whimper. “Oh baby trust me… it’ll fit..”

He spread your legs apart as he rubbed his cock between your folds as he slipped in. “S-so big!! Sir!!” Your toes curled as he pushed in slowly, your walls tightened around his tip causing him to groan. “God this pussy is so fucking tight and wet for me..” He then slid all the way in making you and him moan out in pleasure. He gave you but a few seconds to adjust before pounding the living hell out of you.

“W-Wait-!! Fuck!!” Your legs were shaking already as he went faster. “Hold on tight baby..” He leaned down his face right above yours as your legs wrapped around his hips as he pistons into you. “Yeah… that’s it.. tell me who you belong to. Tell me.” “Yours!! All yours!!” You cried out as you grip at his shirt and hair. He chuckled as he leaned into your ear going faster. “Yeah that’s right. You’re my little pet.. all mine.” He bit down on your neck again as his sound of skin slapping increased.

“Close-!! Close!! Im gonna cum!!” You moaned out your eyes rolling back and your grip on his hair tightening. “Fuck fuck!! Cum on my cock! Cum right fucking now!!” He groaned loudly as he sped up causing the two of you to release together. He aggressively rode out his orgasm until your cunt was full of his cum. After the two of you panted for a while he sat up and pulled out, his cum flowing out your slickly cunt. Chan looked at you in the eyes seeing the effect his blood was starting to have on you. “You’re mine now..” He said darkly as he squeezed more blood from his arm and watched you go crazy trying to drink it.

╬ Authors Note 𓈒 ་། 𓇻 this is kinda short BUT I HOPE YALL ENJOYED🫶🏾 I got another angst fic coming up and some new ateez fics🫶🏾

[darnell-la]

JEALOUS OF HIMSELF

pairing: butch!wolverine x reader x jealous!logan howlett

summary: Logan felt ignorant of his jealousy towards his female variant. she was him, but better when it came to getting close to the woman they had eyes for. he was ready to lash out once he saw y/n being his variant up to her room until the variant had a plan — a plan she had been planning for weeks.

warnings: homosexuality, female variant automatically being better, jealousy, dominating, rough sex, threesome, creampies, breeding kink, claiming, territorial, anger, etc.

note: I spent a while on this one — I really see the vision in this story, and I hope guys do too!

this story was requested!

———

“I think you’ve had enough to drink tonight, Bubba,” Lo, the female variant of Logan asked as she brushed up against y/n’s back. Y/n had only been in the void for a month, and it didn’t take any time for the two wolverines to make their move.

“And, why is that?” Y/n asked as she turned around in her chair with a smirk plastered across her face. “You can barely hold your class, sweetheart,” Lo said before she leaned into her ear. “And, I bet you’d let me kiss you with ease,”

Lo was known for taking her shot whenever she wanted, and right now seemed like the best time. Y/n had been eyeballing Lo all night, smirking, and even looking her up and down. She knew exactly what she was doing.

“Hey, Bub — Why don’t you fuck off, yeah?” Logan said as he came up to the two, blood boiling because he knew Lo was here to make a move on y/n before he could.

They’ve been fighting over the young girl ever since she got here, yet they both never had any luck. Even though y/n shows affection towards both of them, she loves watching them argue for her.

“Why would I? Seems like she’s pretty comfortable here, yeah?” Lo turned to y/n who was smiling at the two already butting heads. “Yeah- I’m comfortable,” y/n said as she softly touched Lo’s bicep, making sure to look straight into Logan’s eyes.

“You see — Your girls comfortable,” Lo said before chuckling and leaning back into y/n’s ear. “How about we bait him upstairs to have a good time, Bub,” Lo whispered, making sure Logan had no idea what y/n would be giggling at.

“C’mon, then,” y/n said as she got up and pulled Lo with her. “Hey!” Logan said as he followed the two. He knew how much of an asshole head be if he tried cock blocking Lo because his cousins get y/n, but at this point, he didn’t care.

“You’re gonna have a fun night tonight, sweets,” Lo whispered into y/n’s ear before slapping her ass, as y/n made her way up the stairs to her room. “Hey- Lo! — We need to talk!” Logan demanded only a few feet behind the two, witnessing everything Lo was going to get.

“We can talk tomorrow- I’m pretty busy, as you can see,” Lo said as she made it to the top of the stairs. “Go into the room, princess — I’ll be right there,” Lo whispered into y/n’s ear once again before stopping to look back at Logan.

“Who the fuck do you think you are? Huh!?” Logan pushed Lo against the wall. “Someone who can get your girl before you,” Lo smirked as Logan turned around with his fist tight, wanting to beat Lo unconscious. Would it matter? He would be basically beating himself.

“You needa chill, though, dude — I never said I wouldn’t be down to share,” Lo said, wanting Logan to finally understand that she liked the Wolverine, which is them both. Not just one.

“What? Are you fucking dumb!?” Logan grabbed Lo’s by her tank top and slammed her against the wall. “Hey- Relax! — I’m saying we can have her at the same time. She’s in there waiting for us both, not just one of us,”

At first, Logan wanted to argue until he thought to himself. He calmed down at the thought of y/n actually wanting him to. Even if she bonded more with Lo. He honestly couldn’t care less who she liked more, he just wanted y/n to know she belonged to him too.

“If this is one of your sick games, you’re dead, you understand?” Logan asked. “Understood, Mister James,” Lo said before pushing Logan off of her. “Now, don’t hold back — I’ve been dying for this night,” Lo warned Logan not to mess up what they’ve both been waiting for, for weeks.

“Sorry, I took so long, Bub — Had to convince this dickhead that you’ve got plenty of holes to kiss, yeah?” Lo asked as she made her way into y/n’s room. Logan came in after her before closing and locking her room door.

“Yes, but- I-I didn’t know you were serious, Lo. I-I’ve never done anything like t-this before,” y/n said as she shifted in her bed. “I think you’ll be just fine, Bubba — All you’ve gotta do is lay back, and let us work, yeah? We’re two big strong mutants that shouldn’t need you to do much,”

The way all speaks to y/n, makes her feel safe and sure that absolutely nothing could ever go wrong, as long as she’s there. Lo was the only reason why y/n was in the position she was in now.

“F-Feel-Feels good,” y/n stuttered, now laid on her back as Logan’s fingers curled inside of her, and his tongue went at it on her bud. Lo on the other hand had one hand pinching a free nipple as her other nipple stayed occupied with her mouth.

“J-Just so much,” y/n whined at how rough Logan was fingering her. Without knowing, the man kept edging her, making it harder doe her to give him what he’d been asking for. “Stop holding back, Bub, before you make me angry,”

Y/n whined at the way the man talked to her. She loved his aggression, but right now, his aggression wasn’t giving her time to leak over his face.

“Dude, you’re switching your strokes too many times. Stay at one!” Lo shouted at the man, but Logan refused to listen to her. “Fucking dick,” Lo said as she got up and pushed Logan off of y/n.

“Get to suckin’ on her tits before I slice your tongue off — Fucking useless,” Lo said before she went down onto y/n, instantly making y/n cry out in pleasure. The young girl's hands rushed through Lo’s hair as the other reached for Logan.

“I-It felt good- I just need it more g-gentle for the first run,” y/n wants to make sure Logan didn’t feel left out. The man leaned into y/n, wanting to apologize, but y/n crashed her lips onto his to assure him he read fine.

Within a minute, y/n could feel the knot in her stomach ready to untie. She tried holding it back for a little, just to keep Lo in between her legs, but it was impossible. She had shushed and throbbed onto the woman Wolverine’s face.

“F-F-Fuck,” y/n shook as Logan kissed over y/n’s neck, wanting to somehow mark her as his in some way. He wanted people, including Lo to know that y/n had to be his.

“Maybe, instead of giving her middle school hickeys, fill her up,” Lo suggested as she got up to wipe her face. “What!?” Y/n said after Logan pulled away, wanting to know if she heard Lo well.

“C’mon, Bub — We’re all adults here — Plus, you talk to me like your average girl-friend. I know you’re on birth control,” Lo smirked over at y/n as she wiped her face in the cover of the room.

He didn’t know why, but Logan felt a rush of going feral run through his body. The thought of filling her up, and claiming in that way whenever he pleased, was something Lo couldn’t possibly do.

“I — I don’t know about that,” y/n said, as she looked at Logan who was now looking at Lo. She could feel her heart drop, knowing she signed up for something that she wouldn’t get out of any time soon.

“Is this a one-time thing, or does she actually belong to us?” Logan asked. “I barely wanted to share her with you,” Lo admitted. “So, I’d be the only one filling her up?” Logan asked, making Lo roll her eyes. “God, are all of my men variants so territorial?” Lo rolled her eyes as she sat down on a couch.

“Yes, Logan- You’ll be the only one to fill her up, now could you maybe make her orgasm like I did, or so I have to get back up and show you how it’s done?”

Logan wasted no time hovering over y/n and moved in between her legs. “Wait- I-I didn’t agree to anything yet,” y/n said which only made the two wolverines laugh.

“Baby, just relax and take the real Wolverine. He may not be good with his fingers, but because he’s me, I know he’d be a dog with his dick,” Lo just knew Logan wasn’t going to disappoint when it comes to fucking y/n. She’ll never tell him, he she had been waiting to watch this for weeks.

“Logan? Are you seriously not gonna talk to me?” Y/n looked up at Logan with puppy eyes, maybe thinking he’d slow down a bit, and let her get an idea of what she was in for, but those eyes only made him want to use her more.

“I’m gonna fuck the shit out of you, y/n, and you’re not gonna fucking stop me — Just like you didn’t stop Lo from eating your sweet soul out,”

Logan had already had his cock out, ready to go to work on y/n, but now y/n began to fight. At first, Logan thought he should maybe calm down, and that y/n could perhaps actually be uncomfortable.

But, then he remembered how strong y/n was. She was a variant everyone down here was scared of, including Cassandra. If y/n wanted to push Logan off for real, she would’ve by now.

“You like it rough, don’t you?” Logan asked right before he reached for y/n’s neck, and gripped. “Then you’d be perfect for me,” Logan added before he plunged into y/n, making sure every inch slipped past her folds.

A scream escaped her mouth before they turned into whiny loud moans. “Yeah? — Feels good?” Logan asked, wasting no time pounding his way into y/n with as much roughness as she could take.

“Logan-“ y/n’s voice broke as her eyes squinted, trying to figure out ways to take him, but it was impossible. He was huge and long, and every vein he had brushed all over her walls.

“T-Too much- Please — Please break real quick,” y/n quickened her sentence as she felt like she couldn’t speak. The way he pierced her stomach made her feel like she was going to pass out. She would be lying if she said she hated it…

“I don’t think you need a break, princess — I think you need it deeper, yeah?” Logan asked, but couldn’t care for an answer as he pushed y/n’s legs further apart and back before pounding deeper into her.

“N-No- Fuck,” y/n felt ashamed that she was going to cum hard around the man she swore could never have her. He knew exactly how she felt, and that’s why he smirked down at her. He was an asshole, but she loved it.

“Thought I couldn’t fuck you, huh? Look how easy it is now — Can’t even take a few inches,” Logan growled inches from her face. “I don’t think that thing’s a few inches, buddy,” Lo chimed in.

“But, she talked so much shit — Telling people I couldn’t possibly handle you, yet, you’re here fighting for your life,” Logan teased as y/n’s violently shook. She tried keeping her voice in but ended up whining so loud, her eyes began to water.

“Ah huh- that’s it — Give it to me, baby,” Logan groaned as he picked up his pace. “Fucking give it to me!” Logan shouted in the young girl's face as y/n felt like she was going to see her memories flash before her eyes.

“That’s fucking it, baby. That’s fucking it- That’s how I want it — That’s how I want it!” Logan continued to pound as he felt himself twitch and then spill into y/n. He could tell by the way his cock twitched, that this would be the biggest spill he’s ever had.

“No way she’s leaking you already,” Lo giggles to herself as she watched the man pound down into y/n’s now messy and soaked cunt. Logan had groaned at what Lo said, now feeling like he could dump a few more into her.

“Turn around,” Logan demanded, but before she could even think for a second, Logan pulled y/n up, turned her around, and slammed her down on her stomach.

“Log- Logan!” Y/n went to speak, but she was too late. The man had already slammed into her from the back, basically imprinting her into the mattress. “So fucking tight!” Logan growled into y/n’s ear as he ran his hands through her hair to tug on it a few times.

“You’re like an extra small condom on my cock- squeezing me so fucking good — All in the right places,” the huge man whispered in her ear before leaning up and pushing her head into the mattress, now slamming into her with absolutely no mercy.

[vandme12]

KC!Ronin x reader with ABNORMALLY sharp canines???

Like basically fangs that tend to cut their tongue or bottom lip!!! Picture me this (batman) they kiss him and accidentally cut his bottom lip and he's just like "🧍"

Kiss of the Devil

You don’t mean to cut him.

Really.

It’s just that your teeth have always been sharp, sharper than they should be, and sometimes you bite the inside of your own cheek for no reason other than existing. But this? This is new.

Ronin had been egging you on all night—his usual brand of taunting, circling you like a wolf who already knew where the weak points were but enjoyed playing with his food. And you, in your infinite wisdom, had decided to shut him up the most effective way possible.

By kissing him.

It was a short kiss, messy, heated, but nothing compared to the immediate shift in his expression the second you pulled away.

He blinks once. Twice. Lifts a gloved hand to his bottom lip.

It’s bleeding.

A slow, lazy grin spreads across his face, tongue darting out to taste the copper warmth. His eyes flicker with something dangerous, something amused, something… impressed?

And then he laughs.

It’s sharp, wicked, delighted.

“Ohhh, sweetheart,” he drawls, licking the cut again, as if savoring the sting. “Did you just—” His grin widens, showing off his teeth, flashing them like a challenge. “Did you just bite me?”

You cross your arms. “Not on purpose.”

His laugh tapers into a low chuckle, head tilting as he steps closer. “You got fangs, baby? That’s adorable. Here I was, thinkin’ you were just playin’ hard to get, but no—” He taps a finger against your chin, tilting your face up like he’s examining you. “Turns out you’re actually a little bloodthirsty, huh?”

“I am not bloodthirsty,” you huff, though the warmth creeping up your neck betrays you. “It was an accident.”

“Mm.” He makes a skeptical sound, but his smirk only deepens. “Sure. That’s what they all say. Next thing I know, I’m wakin’ up in a coffin with a stake in my heart, wonderin’ where it all went wrong.”

You roll your eyes. “Shut up.”

“Make me.”

And there it is—his usual game, taunting and playful, but now laced with something new.

Interest.

You shove at his chest, but he catches your wrist with ease, his grip light but unyielding. His thumb brushes over your pulse, and his eyes flick down to your lips, like he’s waiting for you to do it again.

Tempting.

Instead, you sigh dramatically. “Are you gonna keep teasing me, or do you actually have a point?”

“Oh, I always have a point, sweetheart.” He steps in even closer, so close you can feel the heat radiating off him. His voice dips lower, conspiratorial. “And mine is… I think you owe me.”

You blink. “Owe you?”

Ronin taps his bottom lip—the one you cut—mocking. “You drew first blood. Which means I get to bite back.”

Your stomach flips.

It’s not that you weren’t expecting some kind of retaliation—it’s Ronin, after all—but the casual way he says it, like it’s a simple fact, has your pulse jumping.

You school your expression into something unimpressed. “You’re insane.”

He grins, all teeth. “And you are one bad day away from a vampire arc, babe. Just embrace it.”

“I am not a vampire.”

“Oh, sure, sure. That’s what a vampire would say.” He flicks your teeth with a gloved finger, dodging your swat with ease. “Damn, those are sharp. You ever just… wake up in the middle of the night with an urge?”

You groan. “I’m not a vampire.”

“Coulda fooled me.” He presses a finger to his still-bleeding lip, smearing the red slightly before tilting his head. “Betcha wouldn’t even need to sharpen ‘em, huh? Natural-born predator. That’s kinda hot.”

Your face burns. “Ronin.”

“What?” He grins, completely shameless. “I’m just sayin’—I like a person who can bite back.”

You don’t dignify that with a response. Instead, you yank your wrist free, step back, and rub your face with both hands, trying to cool the heat creeping up your neck.

Ronin, as always, looks far too pleased with himself.

He watches you for a moment, then finally—finally—decides to show some mercy. He stretches, rolling his shoulders like a cat settling after a particularly amusing chase. “Alright, fine, I’ll let it slide this time.”

You give him a flat look. “Oh, will you?”

“Yep.” He pops the “p” and winks. “But don’t think I won’t be keepin’ an eye on you, sweetheart. Can’t have you runnin’ around, turnin’ unsuspecting folks into creatures of the night.”

You roll your eyes so hard it almost hurts. “I hate you.”

“Aww.” He clutches his chest in mock offense, but the smile never fades. “Hate’s just love with more commitment.”

You groan again, and Ronin laughs, taking that as his victory.

But still—

When you walk away, you catch him rubbing at his lip again, tongue darting out like he’s still savoring the sting.

And the next time he leans in close, his words ghosting against your throat, you swear he does it just to see if you’ll bite him again.

[heart-of-the-morningstar]

Valentine’s Day Fic - First Preview

Have a sneak peak! Warning for minor sexting 😉

Ring ring ring

Your phone buzzed in your pocket as you walked along the streets of Hell. Pulling it out, you saw Lucifer's adorable rubber duck icon pop up on the screen. You smiled and hit the answer button.

"Hey Luci, what's going on?" you answered cheerfully.

"Oh, you know, just waiting for my darling to return home to me," he sighed dramatically on the other side of the phone.

"Hon, it's only been an hour!" you scolded playfully. "I had to pick out something special for tomorrow, you know."

Tomorrow was Valentine's Day; one of Lucifer's favorite mortal holidays. The chocolates, the flowers, the romantic setting, everything about it excited the little devil! And of course he always treated you to a special candlelit dinner, complete with dessert and champaign. But you knew Lucifer always looked forward to the end of the night; that time he gets to worship you as the goddess he sees you as.

This year, however, you decided you wanted to spice things up a bit. Which is why you made it a point to visit the Entertainment District which housed the best collection of sex apparel in the pride ring. Lucifer insisted on giving you anything you wanted, but new lingerie wasn't all that you were looking for; some new toys were definitely needed. It took a while to convince him since you knew he didn't like being left alone for too long, but you promised him that you would be as quick as you could. Nevertheless, that didn't seem to stop him from calling you up after only a short amount of time.

"I knoooowwwww," Lucifer groaned on the other end. "But is there any way I can convince you to come home sooner?"

His proposition intrigued you, so you decided to play along. "And how would you do that, I wonder."

You swear you could almost hear him smile. "Well, my dear, since you got to go out and look for a special outfit, I thought I would try my hand at creating one just for me! Gotta say, I'm pretty happy with it! Tight in all the right places!" You heard the static-filled snap of the fabric hit his skin as he spoke.

"Wait," you paused, moving yourself up against a building. "Are you wearing it right now?" He was doing this on purpose, you knew he was. He knew how to tempt you. And picturing Lucifer in something less than decent did nothing to help keep your composure out in public. You could already feel the heat in your face begin to rise.

Lucifer chuckled lightly. "Would you like a sneak peak, love?" Before you could answer, there was a buzzing on your phone. He already had a picture queued up just to tease you. You opened the message with a gasp, fumbling your phone in your hands. The picture showed of his exposed stomach with the rest of his body covered in a lovely black. It looked as though he shot this photo from the waist up because you could make out his forked tongue that was sticking out through his sharpened teeth, smiling wickedly at the camera.

Quickly, you closed the picture hoping know one else had seen what was on your screen. "You ass, I almost dropped my phone!"

"Hey, you're the one who opened it!" he shot back. "But I can tell you like it, isn't that right?"

He was right, of course he was! How could you not! But he was getting too cocky for his own good. If he wanted to be a brat today, you had no trouble giving him exactly what he wanted. Even if it meant cutting your outing a little bit short. You were going to surprise him with his favorite chocolate candies, but perhaps you could get them after you taught him a lesson.

"I'll be home in 15 minutes," you responded in a hushed tone, trying your best not to draw the attention of others. "If you aren't handcuffed to that bed by the time I'm back, you're gonna be in for it."

“Is that a threat or a promise?” Lucifer murmured, sending shivers down your spine. What a fucking tease, but God, did you love him.

“You have 14 minutes now,” was all you said before hanging up the phone as you pushed yourself away from the wall and began to walk back towards the Morningstar mansion, paying no attention to the onlookers who noticed your brisk pace as you passed them. There was someone who needed to be put in his place.

[nexiva]

You made me hate you

Part 4

Bucky x reader

Warnings: ok now they really hate each other, really angsty part and a lot of swearing (again)

Summary: A not so nice morning in the kitchen with Sam and Bucky

A/N: I couldn’t wait any longer haha so enjoy this part :)

Masterlist

Five months. Five months of avoiding each other like the plague. And when we do run into each other? Jesus Christ, even Captain America himself would bolt from the room.

Barnes has gotten a little more… how do I put it? Confident. In the wrong way. About three months ago, he was still trying to talk to me, still trying to convince me—just like everyone else. But I wouldn’t give in. I would never forgive him. Maybe after all this time, it seems childish, but I didn’t care. I stood firmly on my ground.

And once everyone realized I wasn’t going to change my mind, that’s when things started heating up. Barnes was starting to get so cocky. The worse my remarks got, the more he started snapping back at me. I could see I was driving him insane—not that it was my intention. I just didn’t want to see him. But since he was already there, I couldn’t stop myself from throwing sharp comments his way. Until, finally, he had enough and started fighting back.

“Fuck, Sam, I swear I tried everything. But she wouldn’t even let me get a word in. I’m so done with this. Guess some amends just can’t be made.”

I walked into the kitchen with every intention of ignoring Barnes and making myself a great breakfast.
“Morning, Wilson.”
“Hey, Y/L/N.”

I could tell Sam was uncomfortable, but that didn’t stop him from asking a stupid question.
“So, Bucky and I were about to go for a run. Do you wanna join us?”

Oh God. Pathetic.

Barnes practically choked on his coffee, barely stopping himself from suffocating (what a shame that would be).

“If I were you, I wouldn’t let him outside. He might ‘accidentally’ run over someone and then claim he was forced to do it.”

Oh, I knew that one was going to hurt. But it rolled off my tongue so sweetly that I couldn’t stop myself.

Barnes threw his cup against the wall. Sam flinched slightly.

“You are a cunt, you know that?”

Bucky stepped closer like he was about to throw hands. I got up immediately.

“What? You gonna kill me too now? Finally finish collecting the whole family, asshole?”

And he just stared.

Nothingness in his eyes.

I wanted it to hurt. I wanted him to feel exactly the way I did. But strangely, there was no satisfaction in seeing him suffer. It wasn’t as enjoyable as I had imagined. So much time had passed, my rage had only grown, and yet… I couldn’t put a name to that stupid feeling inside me. Oh no, it definitely wasn’t sympathy or guilt—it was just exhausting.

For the first time, I saw something in his eyes. Fear?

I didn’t care to figure it out. Not at that moment.

“Fuck you,” was all he said before leaving the kitchen.

I sat down with a small smirk but also with a hint of uncertainty (hopefully, it didn’t show).

“Um, so that went well?”

Sam, not knowing what else to do, sat down with me.

“Y/N, aren’t you tired of this?”

The bastard could actually read my mind sometimes.

“Despite everything, you two have a lot in common. He was under HYDRA, you had NEXUS. You really should—”

I couldn’t listen to him any longer.

“Despite everything? You mean the fact that he killed my sister? And HYDRA? NEXUS? We have nothing in common. I never killed anyone for someone else. No one ever controlled me like some brainless puppet!”

“Because Fury saved you! You little brat! You think you wouldn’t have done the same as him if Nick hadn’t stepped in?”

Silence.

A long, awkward silence.

I had no idea how to respond. And I sure as hell wasn’t about to admit he was right—even if he was.

“I wonder if you’d say the same thing about him if Fury hadn’t shown up back then. You need to get it together, Y/N, because everyone is tired of your shit.”

Sam stood up, looked at me, and walked out.

I couldn’t admit he was right. I couldn’t get rid of the fog in my head. That horrible memory.

I refused to back down.

The kitchen felt emptier than before.

Sam’s words hung in the air like a goddamn storm cloud, suffocating me, pressing against my chest. "Everyone is tired of your shit."

I clenched my fists. Fuck him. Fuck them all. They didn’t get it. They weren’t the ones who had to wake up every morning and remember that someone ripped their soul apart like it was nothing. They weren’t the ones who had to stand in the same room as the murderer and pretend like he was just another member of the goddamn team.

I grabbed a piece of toast and took a slow bite, staring at the shattered ceramic from Bucky’s cup still lying on the floor. Someone else could clean it up. I wasn’t going to.

The compound was quiet now, except for the faint hum of the fridge and the distant sound of traffic outside. I let myself breathe. But my hands were still shaking.

Then I heard it—the door slamming shut.

I exhaled through my nose, already knowing who it was.

“What the fuck do you want now, Barnes?”

Silence.

I turned my head slightly, and there he was, standing in the doorway, arms crossed, jaw tight. He looked like he hadn’t cooled down one bit since storming out of here a few minutes ago.

“I’m not done talking.”

I let out a dry laugh. “That’s funny, I could’ve sworn you told Sam you were done trying.”

His nostrils flared. Good. I wanted him angry. I wanted him to feel something.

He took a step forward. “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, Y/N.”

I shot him a look. “Oh, I don’t? Enlighten me. Please.”

His eyes darkened. “You think you’re the only one who lost someone? You think you’re the only one who wakes up every day hating the person in the mirror?”

That caught me off guard. For a second. But I didn’t let it show.

“The difference between us, Winter Soldier?” I stood up, stepping closer until there were just inches between us. “I lost my family. You were the one pulling the goddamn trigger.”

He swallowed hard. I saw his fingers twitch—just slightly. Like he wanted to punch a hole in the wall. Or grab something. Maybe grab me.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he let out a bitter chuckle and looked down.

“You think I don’t know that?” His voice was lower now. Tighter. “Every goddamn day, I think about the people I killed. I hear them screaming in my fucking head. And you?” He shook his head, his tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek. “You don’t even want revenge anymore. You just want something to be angry at.”

I stiffened.

He saw it. He fucking saw it, and I hated him for it.

“Go to hell, Barnes.”

His lips curled into a humorless smirk. “Already been there, sweetheart.”

And with that, he turned on his heel and left, leaving me standing there, fists clenched, pulse racing, and for the first time in a long time—completely speechless.

[mayxxday]

Well-Conditioned : Katsuki Bakugou

Katsuki was acting oddly. And that was underwhelming of a statement to put it because he was all over the place. Fidgeting, crackling, and irritation were through the roof. Katsuki was barely in his seat even. Bouncing his leg, he couldn't help but feel like he did something wrong. Why else, wouldn’t you kiss his cheek as you always did whenever he did something for you?

Katsuki sucked ass when it came to talking love. But it wasn’t that he didn’t show it through his actions. Softened gaze dripping honey each time he wiped his sweat palms on his pants before cupping your cheeks. There was no way he’s gonna get the sticky vile flammable on you—his precious. 

Katsuki showed his love when he snatched your backpack off your shoulder, throwing it over his while he dragged you out of the class. He earned himself a sickly sweet kiss on his cheek, showing that you acknowledged his actions and their meaning. It wasn’t an ‘I love you,’ but that’s what anyone but them would say.

Katsuki wasn’t big on grand gestures of love either but he made do with little trinkets and stickers he bought because ‘he thought of you’. And you like it that way. Or at least that’s what he inferred when you would jump into his arms, kissing all over his face.

He surely couldn’t write about his love, he tried that crap and ended up charring his desk black. But he packed you bentos whenever you were to travel back home from the UA dorms. He made sure to put in extra effort and make the fanciest dishes in case your parents were to see the food and judge him off it ( a good potential husband?). Before you would have seen the inside contents or noticed a lacking love note he should have written to you, he would have his arm tugged down, his precious on her toes, to press a big smooch to his cheek. 

Katsuki was more than gentlemanly for you, he was your boyfriend, so, of course, he tied your shoelaces for you (why do you still use the bunny ears method, is his excuse), draping his jacket over your legs whenever you wore skirts, all because he knew you liked to manspread worse than him. He carries pads and hair ties in his bag, but which boyfriend wouldn’t? He holds your heels with a grumpy frown, holding your waist to ensure you didn’t trip in his shoes because you thought you could handle being in heels all day. 

Katsuki did all this not for praise or compliment. No, he wasn’t obligated to do these either, but he did it because that’s what a good boyfriend would do for you. That however didn’t mean he didn’t appreciate or relish the kisses he received each time he showed his love through his actions. 

So what was different today? When he draped his jacket around your shoulder today, why didn’t he get his kiss? And he knows you noticed it, turning your head to him offer your sweet smile, before returning back to your conversation with Mina. 

THAT’S IT? Katsuki was confused, he had even leaned in to receive his daily dose of kiss, instead of awkwardly standing back straight noticing his instinct. Was he desperate? No. Was he needy? Maybe. Why can’t a man get his share of kisses?

Staring at you annoyed he waited for you to notice. 

BUT YOU NEVER DID.  

He even huffed thrice, each time only receiving a distracted rub on his thigh while you gossiped with Mina. Gosh, he wanted to explode her right now. When he finally got over his petty subtle hints he just grabbed your face to face him. 

"How long will it take ya' to kiss me, brat?” 

Katsuki was easy though. Maybe not for everyone, but his little doll had him wrapped around her finger. When you just smiled innocently at him, pecking his lips without a question. The beast was finally appeased. 

“Thank you for the jacket, ‘Suki”

Goddamn, this woman really had conditioned him to seek her kisses without a clue in her pretty head.

likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated >.<

please lemme know if you wanna be added to my taglist. my inbox is open for any requests too if you guys might have any.

[fourtyforever]

I knowwwww I'm supposed to be working on emergency care but I have the absolute brain worms for the ballet au from opening night so here's 3.5k of ballet max verstappen being the bane of ballet nico rosberg's existence

---

The worst year of Nico’s professional ballet career was also the same year they moved that prodigious blonde freak up from the junior company, which in hindsight might have had something to do with it. 

He showed up to the first rehearsal of the season in his uniform shirt and black tights from the junior company, even though company dancers were allowed to wear anything they wanted, and he stood ram-rod straight at the barre while the rest of the company lounged around waiting for class to start. He had the ugliest haircut Nico had ever seen, but he was good--good enough that Nico understood why they brought him up early, even though he knew that must have sucked big time for the other dancers in the junior company who were his age. 

It hadn’t really registered to Nico, because there had been bigger things on his mind. Things that spent the whole class on the opposite side of the studio from him, looking, frankly, upsettingly good in a loose tank top with the arm holes cut even wider to show off the muscle he had built at that summer intensive in Brazil. Lewis avoided eye contact with Nico, and Nico did the same, but it was a little impossible not to look. Their last season hadn’t ended well, and it didn’t feel like time apart had healed any wounds. Still, Nico didn’t really have attention left over to pay to the new kid until Seb mentioned him after class.

“That boy’s going to give us all a run for our money this year,” he said, following Nico out of the studio to the dressing room. The kid in question was still gathering up his things just out of earshot, totally oblivious to the conversation about him going on just a few good steps away. “Are you worried?”

“No,” said Nico, very confidently, which turned out to be a mistake. “There’s always new dancers. He doesn’t seem that special.”

“He’s good,” grunted Kimi. 

Seb nodded. “I can see why he got moved up on his own.” He looked over at Nico out of the corner of his eye as Nico tried his best to ignore him. “Do you think Lewis is worried?”

Nico shouldered open the door to the dressing room, trying to let it close in Seb’s face. It didn’t work. “I don’t think any of us need to be worried about some moderately good teenager,” he said as Kimi and Seb pushed through the door behind him.

“You’re talking about Max?” asked Daniel. Like usual, he was butt-naked in the middle of the dressing room, forcing Nico to make very pointed eye contact. “He’s pretty good, isn’t he?”

“Someone ought to take him under their wing,” said Seb, elbowing Daniel in the ribs.

Nico scoffed. “Nobody ‘took us under their wing’ when we were starting out, and we turned out fine,” said Nico. 

“Michael,” said Kimi, simply. 

“Yeah, you’re really gonna sit here and say Schumi meant nothing to you?” added Seb, and Nico had to acquiesce. But it had been years since Michael retired, and these days he didn’t feel all that advantaged by the older dancer’s mentorship. 

“We also didn’t get moved up to the company by ourselves out of nowhere,” said Daniel. He looked thoughtfully back at the door that neither Max nor Lewis had come through yet, dick still out for all the world to see. “Must be tough. He could probably use a friend.”

“Save your pity for the kids that didn’t get moved up,” grumbled Nico. He had hoped to get to bitch about Lewis to Seb a little bit, who was always a good listener even though Nico knew he talked with Lewis just as much as he did with Nico. But if everyone wanted to instead focus on the new wunderkind, that was, well, whatever. Nico didn’t care.

---

Nico certainly noticed Max at their first joint mens’ class with the junior company, because it was impossible not to. The kid was a freak. Nico had always been a turner, but Max very nearly matched him when they did à la seconde turns side by side. Then he put the whole junior company and a good chunk of the senior company to shame when they did jumps across the floor, hitting the kind of split in midair that Nico usually only saw from the company ballerinas or from Lewis. His musicality was kind of shit, and his port de bras clearly needed work, but there were certainly worse things to be bad at. 

The only time he made eye contact with Lewis was when Max replaced a single pirouette with a quadruple out of nowhere, meeting and matching Lewis’s shocked face out of force of habit. He regretted it as soon as he looked, but there was a weird sort of comfort in knowing that Lewis was just as unsettled by this new guy as he was. At the beginning of last year, which felt like a lifetime ago, he would have been standing next to Lewis and whispering under his breath about how insane the new kid was. For now, though, he had to be content with stolen glances and ignoring Daniel’s appreciative whistle from behind him. 

---

At the company mixer and pizza party, Nico sat across from Lewis at the same table they always sat at since they started in the lowest level of the junior company, entirely ignoring each other. Max, of course, sat right in between them, with Seb on one side and Daniel on the other. 

“Who do you think will be the cavalier this year?” he asked, his mouth full of pepperoni pizza. He had loaded up his plate with nearly half a pizza, fucking kids and their impossible metabolism. He wasn’t about to break a nearly-a-year vegan streak for some subpar pepperoni pizza, but that didn’t stop him from feeling a little jealous. 

“It’s barely August,” said Nico, hating how Lewis looked up at the mention of the Sugar Plum cavalier role. He probably thought the part was as good as his, secure in two years of being cast in the top role while Nico was passed back and forth between Snow King and the Nutcracker prince. The Nutcracker didn’t matter as much anymore, but Nico couldn’t afford to give anything less than his full effort, not when casting for the spring performance came out barely a week after the last Nutcracker show. “It’s too early to be worrying about that.”

“Auditions are in a month,” said Max. “I want to be prepared.”

“Playing guessing games isn’t going to make you more prepared,” said Nico.

Max shrugged. “Neither is being so uptight, but we of course all have our own strategies.” 

He stuck another piece of pizza in his mouth, and Nico fought the urge to get up and slap his paper plate across the room. He had to settle for glaring at the top of the kid’s shitty hair. Lewis went back to his phone and his vegan mushroom pizza which he wasn’t even pretending to enjoy, while Seb smiled that toothy smile that meant he could sense drama unfolding and Daniel laughed like Max had told the funniest joke he’d ever heard. Pathetic. 

“You know what we all used to call him?” said Seb, a truly mischievous smile spreading across his face. 

“Nico?” said Max. “No. What?”

Nico kicked Seb under the table, but it made no difference. “Britney. Because of his pretty blonde hair.”

Honestly, Nico could not imagine what would possess Seb to tell the awful child that. His eyes lit up as Daniel giggled and even Lewis looked up at the mention of Nico’s nickname. “Britney,” Max said, the name sounding already way too comfortable on his tongue. “Like Britney Spears? I can see it.”

“I’m not doing this,” announced Nico, picking up his plate and storming off to join a random gaggle of junior company dancers at the next table over. 

---

Nico was cast as the Sugar Plum Cavalier, but he still couldn’t really enjoy rehearsals, not when Lewis was getting just as much of the praise as the Nutcracker Prince. He especially couldn’t enjoy the full-company rehearsals where he had to watch him dance, graceful and majestic as he’d always been. 

“Why do Britney and Lewis hate each other?” stage-whispered Max from behind Nico. He was doing such a bad job at being quiet that Nico almost thought it was meant for him to hear. In any case, it was enough to distract him from watching Lewis rehearse the fight scene with Fernando. 

“There’s, like, history between them,” was Daniel’s just-as-loud whispered response. History was an incredible oversimplification. Lewis had been the first friend he ever made in ballet, the only other boy in his beginning dance class when he first started out who made him feel like he might actually belong there. They had been each others’ rock moving up through the dance school and then the company, the only constant in the chaos of that world. He had been Nico’s first crush, the first person to know he was gay, his first kiss, first everything. 

Not that any of that mattered now. 

“What kind of history?” whispered Max. “Were they, like..?”

Nico couldn’t see what kind of gesture Max did to finish that sentence, but he could guess what it was based on Daniel’s barely muffled laugh. “Uh, yeah,” said Daniel. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure.”

“Oh,” said Max. “Well, that is very stupid, then. What, did they just break up and now they can’t talk to one another?”

Nico wanted to turn around and give the shit child a piece of his mind before he realized that the absolute last thing he wanted was for either of them to know he had been listening in. “I guess it was a little more complicated than that,” said Daniel, at least doing the bare minimum of coming to Nico’s defense. “But hey, I guess that’s what you get for dating a fellow dancer.”

Maybe he was right, Nico thought. Maybe it was a doomed idea from the start. Maybe that was something Nico should have realized when Lewis had reached for his hand that first time and Nico had taken it, that this would hurt them in the long run. It made something wrench in his chest to think that, something small and bruised and soft but still alive no matter how hard he tried to squash it, that cried out that what he and Lewis had had to have meant something. But it was hard to believe that now, when they could barely look at one another. 

“I think they might just be stupid,” whispered Max. “There’s nothing wrong with dating a fellow dancer if you’re not stupid.”

Incredible. Nico had to close his eyes and count to ten to keep himself from punting that blonde bastard straight across the studio. The Coffee Princes dance that Max and Daniel were both in could not come soon enough, he thought.

---

It was nice that the studio tended to hire the same handful of guest choreographers every year. The jockeying for their favor was always a little less pronounced when everyone knew who they would pick as their favorites. 

However, that meant that everyone--Nico included--was completely fucking blindsided when Horner picked Max out of all people to have a solo in his latest contemporary piece, passing over Nico and Lewis and his former favorite Seb to put the kid in the front and center. It was completely out of nowhere. Nico had been expecting to be competing with Lewis and Daniel for the top solo in a Christian Horner piece, but not once did he imagine being overlooked in favor of fucking Max. 

He didn’t even develop an ego over it, which was kind of the worst part. Dancers that got a taste of success and then walked around like they owned the place were sure to crash and burn at the slightest provocation, and Nico would have been happy to let the terrible child wear himself out and then fade back into oblivion. But Max acted like it was the most natural thing in the world, like he was used to getting all the best roles and therefore wasn’t especially affected by this one. And the worst part was that in Horner’s position, Nico might have done the same thing. Max continued to be unreasonably, unbearably good, in a way that sometimes made Nico want to pull a Tonya Harding on him, bash in his kneecaps after class (though he’d have to do it in the rare moment where Daniel wasn’t annoyingly attached to him). The only consolation he ever got was that Lewis looked just as happy to be there as Nico was, which was not much at all.

Though sometimes Nico thought that Max was more aware of his unique position than he let on. “I really don’t know why everyone always complains about the contemporary pieces,” he said one day while they were getting changed after rehearsal. “I think this is actually a lot of fun.”

“Yeah, I bet you would,” Nico muttered. He thought he might have heard Lewis snort under his breath at that from the other side of the dressing room, but he wasn’t sure. He would obviously never look up to check. 

“What was that?” asked Max. It was impossible to tell whether he was being genuine or not, which was even more aggravating. 

“Don’t mind Britney,” said Daniel, putting an arm around Max’s back that was maybe a little bit too friendly. “He’s just jealous of you.”

Nico was going to kill them all, including Seb for telling Max that fucking nickname. He threw his shorts into his bag with a little more force than necessary. “Enjoy it while it lasts,” he sneered, aiming it more at Daniel and reveling in the sudden look of confusion that came over him before storming out, slamming the dressing room door. 

---

The spring show was Don Quixote, and for some asinine, unbelievable reason, they had decided to double cast Lewis and Nico in the role of Don Quixote, so that they had to go to all the same rehearsals and switch off every other run. Maybe they thought it would be better for the two of them to be in equal standing, but all it meant was that every single rehearsal was like reliving their falling out from start to finish. It was made so much worse by the fact that Max was cast as Basilio -- way higher of a role than anyone should expect for their first spring show. 

“You need to move forward here,” Max told him after they finished a run but before Nico could swap back out with Lewis for the next one. “Always you are in my way, and if you don’t move I might crash into you next time.”

It was a little much to deal with while Nico was still catching his breath. He still couldn’t understand why Max was never so much as winded after this much dancing. “What?” he gasped, just to give himself a little more time to breathe.

Max huffed indignantly. “When you’re finished with your solo. You need to move out of the way faster, because I’m starting my next part right behind you.”

“He’s got a point,” said Lewis, staring directly at Nico. 

Nico sneered at him. “I only have three steps before the last couple of jumps to get across the stage. I am already traveling as much as I can.” He spared a look at Lewis, looking him up and down and pointedly lingering on his legs that were shorter than Nico’s just because he knew it would hurt, twisting that particular knife. “I doubt you’ll have an easier time getting there.”

He could see that he had struck the nerve he was aiming for, Lewis’s lip curling just the smallest amount. Part of him wished it hurt more to hurt Lewis, instead of the sickening satisfaction he was left with. But there was still ground to be gained--they hadn’t yet chosen which of them would get to dance 7 shows and who would only get 6--so Nico didn’t really have sympathy to spare. All he felt was bitterness, whether he did better than Lewis or worse. The fact that they were forced to be so close together made it harder for Nico to feel anything else, the love he had for dance that brought him here almost foreign to him now. Sometimes it felt like too much, like the horrible wanting he felt--wanting to be better than Lewis, wanting to hurt him, wanting him back, wanting to prove something, wanting things to go back to the way they were--was poisoning every moment he spent in the studio. 

“Well, you need to be farther forward somehow,” said Max, putting his hands on his hips. Nico could strangle him. “Otherwise I’m going to run into you one of these times.”

“Boys,” said Toto, looking back and forth at the three of them disapprovingly. Max backed down slightly at his voice, but not very much. One of the only things Nico had to look forward to was the day that kid finally mouthed off to Toto (or god forbid, Director Wolffe herself) and got absolutely eviscerated. Nico would laugh. Lewis might laugh with him. “We only have time for one more run tonight. Max, begin your solo farther upstage. Lewis, swap with Nico.”

Max rolled his eyes, but did as Toto said. Nico didn’t meet Lewis’s eyes as he stormed back to the corner of the studio to watch the two of them dance. 

---

It was all too much. Nico needed someone to vent to. 

It couldn’t be Lewis, for obvious fucking reasons. He found Seb in one of the smaller studios, but he was busy teaching the townspeople dance to some of the junior company dancers. “Sorry, I really have to finish this,” he said. “You can complain to me in half an hour, though. Or you can go talk to Kimi?”

“Kimi’s not going to let me complain,” said Nico.

Seb laughed, and some of the dancers around him laughed too. They followed him around the studio like ducklings, and sometimes Nico was jealous that Seb had been able to move so peacefully from the studio’s top dog into more of a mentor for the younger dancers. “I think Daniel’s done, though. I just saw him going into the dressing room on my way here.”

“Perfect. Thanks,” said Nico, shutting the door to the studio and stomping off towards the mens’ dressing room. He and Daniel were okay friends, and he had a reputation as the friendliest guy in the company for a reason. He might have to leave his gripes with Max out of his rant, but that was fine when his complaints were more to do with Lewis anyway. Maybe he could even get some gossip about the kid out of him if he played his cards right. 

The studio was loud with the sounds of concurrent rehearsals going on in studios all around them, so Nico didn’t have any warning about what he was walking into until he opened the door--which was a little stuck, but the old doorknobs always opened eventually if you jimmied them the right way--and stopped dead in his tracks. Seeing Daniel Ricciardo’s bare ass in the dressing room was not even slightly out of the ordinary, but what definitely was out of the ordinary was seeing him pinning someone to the wall, pale, muscled legs wrapped tight around his waist and hands buried in his curls as he thrust upwards, his shorts discarded on the floor next to a suspiciously familiar white T-shirt and pair of black leggings. The person he was fucking against the wall of the dressing room lifted their head from his shoulder, and Nico was shocked, dismayed, and horrified to be looking into the eyes of Max fucking Verstappen. 

Daniel, at the very least, had the common courtesy to look mortified when he turned his head and shoulders around to see who had walked in on them. Max very much did not, looking almost pleased with himself as Daniel scrambled to cover both of them with his body. “Shit--fuck, sorry Brit--Nico, sorry, I thought I locked the door.”

Nico slammed the door shut. After a bit of shuffling, he heard the old lock click shut and heard a metal chair screech against the floor until it was resting in front of the doorknob, and then the sounds--which he hadn’t been able to pick out of the rest of the noise of the studio before, but which he could definitely hear now--started up again. Nico fought the urge to scream. He didn’t even have a leg to stand on to yell at Daniel, not when he had been among the small group who walked in on him blowing Lewis in a dressing room at the theater back in junior company.

Fuck this, then, he thought. He stormed back the way he came, passing Seb as he walked out of the other studio. “Don’t go in the dressing room,” he growled, picking up his ballet bag and marching straight out to his car. 

None of it really mattered, in the end. He would perform Don Quixote and prove for once and for all to Toto and to Lewis and to whoever else that he was and always would be the best dancer at this fucking studio. Then he would attend every summer audition he could find, take the first offer he was given, and get the fuck away from this place and hopefully never see Max Verstappen’s fucking face again.

---

also on ao3 

[rik0shii]

Kang daesung x fem!reader who's just as chaotic as he is!! both of them always prank the older members in YG and teasing the younger ones(aka CL and minzy lol) until they're annoyed <3

I'm literally so grateful that you and the other writers decided to write for bigbang bcs if not we wouldn't have SO MANY finger lickin good fics of them especially MY KING DAESUNG‼️we need more ppl appreciating these cuties fr🔥

Double Trouble Couple

You and Daesung, the Double Trouble Couple, are always up to playful mischief. In this moment, you prank Taeyang by changing his phone’s lock screen to a funny meme, all while teasing CL and Minzy. Amidst the chaos, sweet couple moments shine through, showing how perfectly you and Daesung balance fun and affection.

(Kang Daesung x Chaotic!Fem!Reader)

hii tysm for requesting!! YESS WE DO NEED MORE BB FANFICS!! as a vip since 2018 i have to do them justice!!also, daesung is my bias😖😖! reposts and comments are appreciated!!

Another day at YG, and the Double Trouble Couple was ready to spread their usual brand of fun and chaos. You and Daesung were masters at balancing sweet couple moments with just the right amount of harmless mischief.

You were lying on the couch in the practice room, scrolling through your phone, while Daesung sat next to you, absentmindedly flipping through a magazine. It was one of those rare moments when things were calm — but you knew it wouldn’t last long.

You glanced up at Daesung, a mischievous grin forming on your lips. “Hey, babe, I have an idea. Let’s mess with Taeyang for a minute.”

Daesung’s face lights up with that same glint of mischief. “What do you have in mind?”

You giggled. “What if we rearranged his phone background to something really ridiculous? Like… one of those puppy memes that say ‘When you’re too cute for this world’ or something equally cringe-worthy.”

Daesung laughs, shaking his head. “That’s perfect. He’s gonna be so confused when he sees it.”

You both sneak over to Taeyang’s bag, where his phone was lying. With the stealth of two professional pranksters, you quickly change his lock screen to the cringiest meme you could find — a baby panda trying to look tough, paired with the text: ‘Me: 1% scary, 99% adorable.’ You high-five each other in excitement.

Daesung chuckles. “He’s not going to know what hit him.”

As you return to your spot, trying to act completely innocent, you notice CL and Minzy talking nearby. You can already tell by their facial expressions that they’re waiting for the moment to see what kind of chaos you and Daesung have planned.

CL crosses her arms, raising an eyebrow at you. “What did you two do this time? I’m getting that ‘we’re about to get pranked’ vibe.”

You smile sweetly. “What? Us? We’re just being cute.”

Daesung leans in, acting all innocent. “Yeah, we’re perfectly innocent. We wouldn’t do anything… mischievous.”

Minzy shakes her head. “You two are trouble.”

“Are we?” you reply, looking at Daesung with a grin. “We’re just adorable trouble, aren’t we?”

Just then, Taeyang walks back into the room, holding his phone and looking at it with furrowed brows. “What the heck is this?”

You try and fail to hold back your laughter. Daesung pats you on the back, trying to act like he’s unaffected.

“Taeyang, are you okay?” you ask, feigning concern. “It’s just a meme, right? I mean, who could resist the cuteness of a baby panda?”

Daesung laughs, nudging you playfully. “The real question is, why isn’t he taking the compliment? I mean, 1% scary and 99% adorable? Who wouldn’t want that on their phone?”

Taeyang looks at the two of you, an eyebrow raised. “You guys are so childish.”

You grin, a little too sweetly. “Maybe, but we’re just spreading some love around here.”

Daesung throws his arm around you and laughs. “Yeah, love and glitter. We’re basically the best at it.”

CL is trying to hold in her giggles, but Minzy can’t stop laughing. “Honestly, it’s cute. You two are just evil sometimes.”

“You’re welcome,” you reply with a sweet smile.

Later on, after the laughs have died down and Taeyang finally changes his lock screen back, the four of you fall into a comfortable silence. But, you know it won’t last long. Not with you and Daesung around.

As you and Daesung sit next to each other, your legs touching, there’s a softness in the air. You glance at him, and he turns to look at you. Without a word, he leans in and kisses the side of your head, his hand gently resting on yours.

“You know,” Daesung says softly, his voice filled with warmth, “I love this. Just being with you, messing around, making everyone laugh. It feels… right.”

You smile up at him, your heart swelling. “Me too. We make the perfect team.”

His thumb strokes the back of your hand. “Yeah, we do. I don’t know how I got so lucky.”

You can’t help but laugh, squeezing his hand. “Lucky? You’ve definitely earned it. I’m basically chaos in human form.”

He laughs with you, then pulls you closer, his arm draped around your shoulder. “You’re my chaos, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Minzy, who had been watching the two of you, sighs dramatically. “It’s so cute, but honestly, it’s annoying how you two just work together.”

You grin at her, teasing. “What can we say? It’s called couple goals.”

Daesung laughs, his arm tight around you as he responds, “Honestly, we make being cute look too easy.”

CL rolls her eyes but can’t stop herself from smiling. “You two should really calm down with the couple energy. I’m literally single here, and it’s giving me a toothache.”

“I can’t help it,” you say with a grin. “Daesung is just too adorable.”

Daesung playfully bumps you with his shoulder. “Don’t go too hard, babe. I’m already a heartbreaker.”

As the evening goes on, the playful teasing continues — but so do the quiet, affectionate moments between you and Daesung. Whether it’s the way he gently brushes your hair out of your face or the way you both share secret smiles across the room, there’s an undeniable connection between the two of you.

And even though you’re both little troublemakers, in this moment, it feels like the calmest chaos — just the way you like it.

[lemon-zest-art]

Faster Than You - Sonadow

A/N - i know i posted hours ago but i really want here and AO3 to be at the same place lmao

Feel free to comment or make any fanart and tag me! I hope you guys are enjoying so far :3

Ch.3

Silver couldn't help the eye roll, feeling a small elbow hit his side as he did so. Turning to look at blaze that was giving him a certain look, causing him to gulp lightly and put back on a soft smile.

They both looked at Sonic, and couldn't help but feel a bit out of place as everyone kept stopping the blue blur for pictures and signatures.

Sonic on the other hand tried his best to use these interactions as a way to distract himself from his earlier fantasies, which wasn't entirely unsuccessful one could say, at least he wasn't in Greek land anymore.

He would talk a bit, sign whatever object or body part that was asked and then pose for the camera. A routined action he only got used to doing after such a long time of being in the business. He suddenly felt a daring glaze coming from his two friends, and as a result excused himself from the crowd and went to join his friends.

Silver had gotten the three of them a nice table, further away from the crowd where they could actually enjoy some time without being flustered by others every two seconds. This bar was known to be frequented by popular people, they were lucky enough to have a reserved area for the racers. Greeting a couple of other racers they knew on their way to their seats. The barmaid offered them drinks on the house.

Sonic couldn't be any more glad, what better than a couple of drinks to help his uncommon problem?

As he put his hand out to grab the free drink, Silver placed his hand on top of sonic’s.

"Dude, we're not here to watch yourself get wasted"

Sonic scoffed slightly

"Calm down man, it's just a drink!" He said with his classic smile, sliding over the other two drinks to his friends.

"I just wanted to get out with my two best friends! My buddies! My amigos!"

Blaze rubbed her temples a bit as she sighed

"This can't end well..."

[...]

A couple hours went by, and luckily the trio was actually having a lot of fun. Reminiscing of the past, laughing and genuinely spending quality time together.

"I'm gonna go grab more drinks, be right back" sonic mentioned as Silver was going on and on about some childhood story. Blaze nodded towards the blue blur, as if to confirm she heard him. But as sonic got off his seat, not only did he realise how much he actually had to drink, but instantaneously noticed a very recognizable jacket sitting by the bar. Immediately his face turned pink, images of grapes and white robes filling his mind as his audible 'gulp' could be heard. He did his best to control his breathing as he walked towards the bar.

And there he was, in flesh and so close he could smell the fresh odor of his perfume.

‘So not only does he get to be hot, but he smells good? This shouldn't be legal’

He couldn't help but notice the sweet hints of cinnamon emanating from him. Making it much more difficult than it is to order such a simple drink, stealing a few glances every few seconds. In his mind he was being oh so subtle about it, but the drinks and nervousness was showing otherwise. Any more and we’d start seeing actual beads of sweat gliding down his face and neck. He wiped his sweaty palms on his jacket, succeeding to order his drink as the barmaid left to make it.

He had to say something, anything to him. This was the right moment to do so. He let a small cough out of nervousness, finally opening his mouth to speak when suddenly-

"So, you're finally gonna say something?"

Interrupted Shadow, a small smirk posing on his lips as he took a small sip of his drink. Sonic blinked his eyes, furrowing his eyebrows as he tried to say something

"Ah..e..euh- i’m sorry what?" Was the best he could get out. Mentally slapping himself at such a pitiful answer.

He waited for shadow to follow up with something, anything- but his drink got there and shadow still hasn't followed up. Sonic huffed lightly, grabbing his drink and turning around to go back to his friends.

"Yknow, it's bad for your reputation to stalk others." Shadow yapped, turning around to finally face the blue racer who had his back towards him.

Sonic slightly growled out of anger, sluggishly replying

"You're really annoying yknow-.... that..."

Unfortunately once again losing all credibility as he turned around, about to let Shadow have it but being immediately flustered by the scene before him. Not only did he not expect to be as close as they were, but the other surely was putting on a show for him. In his left hand he held his drink, the right arm holding his weight as he leaned onto the bar. His legs slightly ajared on each side of his chair as he looked directly into Sonic's eyes, the kind of action Shadow would put fault on the alcohol. Taking another sip as he looked directly into the other's emerald eyes, waiting for the blue hedgehog to continue with his thoughts. Instead all that could be heard was Sonic's thoughts accidentally leaving his mouth as he scratched the back of his neck

"oh.. crap"

[orienteddreamerrr]

John Wick Valentine’s Day Drabble:

(Y’all gonna love this!)

John Wick X Fem Reader

John already knew what today will bring. Will it bring him grief? Would it bring him pain? Or will it bring him some happiness? Ever since he lost his wife, he had always turned to you for comfort. Sometimes for more. And with it being Valentine’s Day, he wants to treat you. He rolls up to your house in his mustang exiting the driver’s side holding a bouquet of flowers and a small gift bag. As he comes to your doorstep, giving it a knock, you were able to open it, finding him handing you the flower bouquet, smiling a small smile. “Happy Valentine’s Day…”, he greets you, as you can’t help but smile back and take the flowers from him. “Aw John…you didn’t have to do this…”, You see John shake his head a little. “Just showing appreciation…for someone who has been by my side…even through the most dangerous situations…I couldn’t have asked for a better ‘partner’…”, You felt like tearing up at this as you put the flower bouquet off to the side before going up to wrap your arms around him, feeling his arms wrap around you in return. After a moment, he pulls away as he hands you the small gift bag. Taking it, he gives you the “okay” to see what’s inside. As you do, you find a small velvet box as you take it out, putting the bag off to the side, feeling your heart racing out of nowhere. Opening the velvet box, you see it was a ring, the size of it to fit your ring finger. Your eyes widen a bit. “Wait…you’re not…”, You look to meet John’s gaze as his smirk was growing into a proud one, nodding his head slowly as he kneels down onto one knee. “Yes…I am…will you marry me?”, You felt your eyes watering as you can’t help but say yes, watching him stand back to his feet, his own eyes were watering as he takes the ring from the box, taking your left hand to slip the ring onto your finger. You felt like you were floating as you hug on him again, feeling him hug back as he just pulls away a little to kiss you, his lips pressing up against yours as you kiss him back, knowing he was your Valentine…and going to be your future husband!

Who would be interested???

@scarlettspectra

@johnwickb1tsch

@treedaddymcpuffpuff

[grimesve1l]

When Rafe met Barry's cousin from the mainland

Summary: Barry and Rafe gets a suprise visit from Barry's favorite cousin

Warnings: Drug use, swearing, mentions of weapons, and a lil suggestiveness?

Rafe and Barry were discussing prices and doing lines when they heard a car pull in Barry's drive way. "You expecting someone?" Rafe asks. "Nah, I don't know who the hell just pulled up but ima find out." Barry goes outside while Rafe waits. "Well shit you could've at least told me you were coming." Rafe hears Barry tell the stranger.

"I didn't wanna ruin the suprise" he hears a female voice reply. Barry comes back inside with a girl he didn't recognize following after him. "Y/n this is Rafe, Rafe my favorite cousin, Y/n." Barry says introducing the two. "Sup" Rafe says barely looking up from the line he was making. He takes a hundred dollar bill and snorts the line before turning to look at Y/n.

"Damn Barry if I knew you were hanging out with cute frat boys I would've dressed more like a sorority chick." Y/n says sitting next to Rafe. "What do you know about sororities. Your ass didn't even go to college." Barry responds. "Neither did you asshole" Y/n retorts. She turns to Rafe and asks "So what are doing with my cousin cause this doesn't really look like your scene?"

"Just uh business." Rafe replies "Oh business. Okay." Y/n replies while nodding. "Well you two have got yourselves another partner." she says putting her hand on Rafes shoulder. "Wait what?" he replies. "Oh nah." Barry butts in "Look you can stay here with me all you want but you're not getting involved with this shit." he says motioning to the coke, money and guns lying around the room.

"Why the hell not? It's not like I wasn't involved with this kinda stuff back home." Y/n replies. " That's back on the mainland. Here you're gonna get your shit straight alright. You're not gonna be like me." "What I am gonna do then." Aye country club won't you just complaining about how the cart girls at the country club can't do their job right?" Barry asks Rafe. "Yeah always mixing up the wrong drinks and shit." Rafe replies.

"Perfect looks like you have a job" Barry says pointing to Y/n "and you have a new cart girl" pointing toward Rafe. "A country club seriously?" Y/n asks. "I don't know why your complaining guys like Rafe secretly love your whole weird poor girl vibe i'm sure you'll make bank." Barry points out. "Whatever" Y/n replies while sitting back on the couch. Barry's phone begins to ring. " I gotta take this. Don't do nothing stupid while i'm gone." he says while leaving room.

"So Rafe you gonna show me around your country club?" Y/n asks pulling her legs up on to the couch and turning to face him. "Maybe." he replies. "Maybe? What you scared to take a girl like me up there around all your preppy friends?" she jokes as she lights up a cigarette. "Nah but if you want you could come to a party i'm having tomorrow. See what kinda people will be at the country club."

"Is this your way of asking me to come over to your place?" she asks while blowing out her lips. "I guess so." he replies while laughing and putting his hands behind his head. Like this Y/n could see how big Rafes biceps were. She leaned over to touch one "I look forward to it then." She says looking him in the eyes while giving him a mischievous smile. He looks up at her and smirks "Yea?" "Yea." she replies while leaning in closer.

Right before their lips could touch Barry came back. "Aye man what did I just say?" Rafe jumps as Y/n sits back in her spot. "Seriously Barry?" Y/n groans. "What do you mean "seriously" y'all were about hookup up on my couch!" "I was only gonna make out with him geez Barry. I'll remember that when you bring a girl back here." Y/n says standing up. "Whatever i'm tired. Ima go to bed" she says.

"But first gimme your phone" she says to Rafe. He does so instantly and she puts her number in with the contact "y/n<3". "Call me alright?" "Yeah" Rafe replies. "Okay goodnight boys" she says as she disappears down the hall. "Man why didn't you tell me about her sooner?" Rafe asks once he knows Y/n can't hear. "For this exact reason. She's already got you pussy whipped and y'all ain't even kissed yet." Rafe just sat back in the couch with a smile wondering what would happen the next time they saw each other.

A/n: i think i'm gonna make this into a series cuz i'm already thinking about where else i can take this so hope y'all enjoyed cuz there's fs gonna be more!!