#lets fucking turn the tables around for ONCE in my goddamn life

[sobbingscripter]

𓈒⋆⑅˚₊୨🌼wc. 3317🌼୧₊˚⑅⋆𓈒

a/n. low-key forgot to specify the timeframe but this is like, a couple days after the sex.

“You know, I’d really fuck the shit out of Riddler.”

“Can we bring back shame?” Mark lowers his comic book, expression scrunched into a grimace as he stares at you from where he’s lounged on your bedroom floor, the edge of his T-shirt raised just enough to showcase his rippling abs and that deep, deep V.

“I’d suck the tip clean off.” You’re unbothered by his audible gag, simply focused on the crack of paper as you turn the page, your legs extended and crossed at the ankles, your toes wiggling in your socks and you let out a bashful giggle, biting lightly down on the nail of your index finger as your eyes rove over the panels. Your eyes focus on the bright colours, occasionally flitting towards Mark’s seething expression.

“I’m disturbed.” He announces, before lifting himself from the floor, muscles flexing as he stretched his arms overhead and he sets his comic down on the bedside table, before prying yours from your hands and tossing it into your desk with freaky accuracy.

Gorgeous brown eyes stare at you from beneath long lashes, gaze roving over you and the way you lounge so lazily across your bed, a double chin formed at the way your head is propped up by pillows.

“You’re gonna get a neck pain like that.” Mark huffs, before moving to stand at the edge of your bed, hands wrapping around your ankles and he tugs you roughly, your head sliding off the pillow and he moves to straddle your hips. Hands slide up your arms, fingers lace with yours and he pins your hands to the soft covers and he cracks a grin.

“How’s college?” Mark inquires. “Mom says you’re an overachiever.”

“Define ‘overachiever’.” You peer up at Mark through your lashes, your gaze locked on his, and goddamn, your brain’s melting the more you focus on how warm his hands are against yours. Fingers laced with yours, folded over one another like they belong there, his lashes fluttering with each blink and the curve of his smile as he just looks at you.

Not doing anything.

Just looking.

And you’re starting to think Pinterest was right when he brings a hand up, gently picking an eyelash from your cheek before he fists his hand, brushing it against your chin and he mimics an explosion.

And the laughter just bubbles from you, your head tipped back as giggles fall from your lips, and he shifts his body, wrapping his arms around your waist and he pulls you onto him. Your knees dimpling the sheets on either side of you, his face pressed into the curve of your neck, lips ghosting over the supple skin that has an indentation by a bra strap too tight and Mark’s teeth bite into the elastic, tugging it from your shoulder and he presses his lips against the mark left behind.

His lips are soft.

Hands cradle you like you’re something delicate, like you haven’t been his biggest bully for majority of his life, and you melt against him.

Muscular arms keeping you pressed against him, your soft thighs bracketing his hips and you press your lips against his temple.

“I didn’t think heroes had the free time to dick around like this.” You hum with a snort, your hands shifting, cupping Mark’s face as you lift yourself, pulling one of the pillows absentmindedly to prop his head up and he watches you with soft, heart eyes.

“It’s Saturday.” He answers you, hands bracketing your hips. “I’ve got all the time in the world.” He pauses. “Until night time. Then I have no time.”

“My mom said we can patrol tonight if it’s okay with your mom.” Your giggle is melodious, it’s sweet and messy all at once. His eyes rove over the curve of your lips, the dimples in your cheeks and the way your eyes crease at the corners. He likes the way your necklace dangles so carelessly, he loves the way your eyes watch the sun and he just loves.

He's known you for over a decade and he can’t think of a single thing he hasn’t fallen in love with.

“When did you get so… pretty?”

Mark’s voice is a soft, almost theatrical whisper, his thumbs brushing along the soft flesh of your hips where your shirt had ridden up. “You look like an angel…”

“It’s the sunlight.” You snort at him, a grin curling your glossy lips. That warm, summer-y smile that has his breath stuttering in his lungs, your hand shifting to cradle his cheek, your palm warm against his flesh.

“No.” He lets out a breathless laugh. “No, like… you look like a fucking painting right now.”

“Wait, like, really?” Your brows furrow.

“Yeah, like… that painting of— you look like a Monet.” He tilts his head, pressing a kiss to the softness of your palm. And there’s a warmth that burns at his belly when your head tips, a light and easy smile creeping onto your face.

“You’re really beautiful…”

The sweetest silence settles between the two of you, and Mark hums softly. He never thought loving someone could be this easy. He knows it’s not too soon. It never could be when it’s you.

“Which painting?” You hum softly, leaning forward and your lips press against his cheek.

“Bitch—” Mark huffs. “Just touch my wiener.”

⋆⑅˚₊୨🌼୧₊˚⑅⋆𓈒

“I’m not a furry but—”

“You’re gonna say the most furry thing ever.”

“The shark could get it.”

Mark lets out a heavy breath, eyes shutting and he takes a moment. Before looking at you, expression distasteful and he grimaces.

“Can we never watch ‘The Reef 2’ without you wanting to fuck an actual shark?”

Mark watches the way you shovel a handful of chips into your mouth, your gaze locked on his and he should be turned off, but the way your grin grows as you shake your head, mischief in your actions as you giggle.

“No.” You snort. “No we can not.”

“Sick freak.” He grunts under his death, reaching over, a pudgy thumb wiping away the crumbs from the corner of your mouth, absentmindedly bringing his thumb to his lips, licking away the salt before turning his attention back to the screen of your TV.

And your lips purse and you try to ignore the way your pulse flutters, instead focusing on shuffling more comfortably, your back pressing against your puffed up pillows and you swallow.

“That’s gross. I don’t know where your thumb was.”

“It’s gonna be in your ass if you don’t stop fucking with me.” Mark takes another handful of chips, his toes wiggling in those stupid fucking Hot Wheels socks.

And you swallow.

“Say ‘no homo’.”

The leer Mark gives you is something nightmares and very, very dark fantasies are made of and he takes a slow slurp of his smoothie, lips pursed around the straw. And he simply turns his attention back to the screen, biting the inside of his cheek to keep his smile hidden but the dimple in his cheek pops.

“Mark, say ‘no homo’!”

⋆⑅˚₊୨🌼୧₊˚⑅⋆𓈒

“Oh my God.” Mark grunts. “Why did I agree to this?”

His knees and palms dimple your mattress, powdery blue sheet refusing to bend to his will, edges popping off the corners of your mattress and you hum, lips curled as you keep your eyes glued to that stupidly perky ass.

“I don’t know but I’m loving the Invinci-cheeks.”

Mark glares at you over his shoulder, the tips of his ears burning a furious red as he clenched his jaw, annoyance only spiking at the way your grin widens.

“Yeah, look back at me.” You tease.

And Mark huffs. “Same way you looked back at me?”

The silence is deafening, your obnoxious slurping stilling and you swallow, sucking in your cheeks and Mark doesn’t know why the act makes him a little breathless. He’s seen you do it countless times when you’re speechless, unable to come up with an immediate retort but he swallows hard.

“That’s a pretty fucked up thing to say.” You whisper, your heart beating erratically pounding behind your rib cage because did you actually look back at him?

And Mark lets out a huff, finally managing to spread the sheet comfortably enough, and you plop down, internally gloating at the way he silently stews at the creases that form in the sheet.

“Why’re you making me make your bed?” Mark huffs, muscular arms crossing over his chest. “It’s the middle of the day.”

“Because, dear, naïve Mark, when you leave, I’m gonna take an 8 hour nap and wake up on a plane of existence higher than yours.” And you stretch your arms overhead, letting out a yawn and Mark’s eyes drop to where your shirt rides up, exposing the soft skin of your belly, and his arm reaches out, a warm hand splayed across your tummy. It’s sweet and a little weird, but you like the way the heat seems to sink into your navel, warming you up like some kind of humanoid toaster.

“That’s nice.” You sigh softly, your lashes fluttering and you rest back, your back flush against the memory phone and your head lolls, gaze falling on Mark and the way he looks at you like you’ve personally designed and hung the stars in the sky.

“You’re so—”

“Do you have a foreskin?”

Mark’s expression falls. “Can we not have a single nice moment without you ruining it?”

Your lips purse and your brows furrow like you’re deep in thought before you shake your head. “No, m’sorry. I can’t see that happening for us.”

He would be annoyed if that devious little smile on your lips didn’t make his tummy tense, and his hand reaches for the front of his jeans.

“You wanna check if I have a foreskin?” He questions and once you nod, you’re wishing you didn’t. Because seeing Mark undo his buckle with one, nimble hand, is a religion you weren’t sure you’d ever find yourself being a part of but holy fuck, you could watch him do that for hours.

Mark frees his cock. Easily, and lazily pushing the waistband of his boxers down and he shifts comfortably. You’d think it’d be less impressive because he’s soft but no. Not at all.

A pretty, flushed pink head, just a little bit darker at the base with a teensy bit of skin that overlaps just the ridges of his tip and you purse your lips.

“Is now a bad time to tell you I can’t tell the difference between cut and uncut when they’re soft?” You peer up at Mark through your lashes, shifting a bit more comfortably and he lets out a huff of a laugh.

“Here’s the scar,” He hums, moving just a bit closer and he shows you that barely imperceptible scar, right near his tip, “see?”

You don’t know what convinces you to do it. You really don’t.

But you’re tracing your thumb over the scar, peering up at him through your lashes and your eyes are so soft, so concerned.

“Who did this to you?”

“Oh my fucking God.”

The laugh bubbles from him easily, his head tipping back and you watch the curve of his throat as he laughs, shoulders shaking and lips curling. Pearly teeth showcased, and the dimples in his cheeks deepen, accompanied by a healthy little flush and he snorts, before looking back down at you.

He watches the way you watch him, teeth biting down on your bottom lip to hide your smile but he can see the way your cheeks turn rosy the longer you watch him.

And you look back down, tracing your thumb over the scar once again. Feeling the subtle change in texture.

“It’s a cool scar though.” You hum. “Kinda makes your dick look like a hammerhead.”

Mark nearly loses it when you begin to hum the Jaws theme, biting the inside of his cheek to stifle the laughter but it all comes to a grinding halt when his dick twitches, and your lips part, watching as a bead of precum slowly drips from his slit. And he swallows.

“Do you get hard when people make jokes?” You raise a brow, scooping up the bead and watching the way it rests so comfortably on the pad of your index finger, and he shakes his head.

“Only you.” He inhales sharply when you trace that divot with your finger, his brows furrowing and he tries to keep his hips from twitching, anchoring them down to the bed instead of letting them crave the contact.

Your lips purse in concentration, before you hum quietly.

“You gave me head but I never got to do it to you.” You state with a hum, nails tracing patterns on his thigh, and he can feel the ticklish sensation through the denim of his jeans and he swallows.

“You— uh-um… You don’t have to. I don’t mind if you’re not into that…—”

“I am.” You reassure, eyes lowered and watching the way his cock stiffens, blood rushing all the way to the appendage as it flushes a pretty, rosy pink and your hand wraps around his base.

Your hand’s all warm, all soft and delicate-fingered. The cool metal of your rings make his skin prickle and his hips are jutting before either of you can say anything, cum spurting across the front of your T-shirt, as well as creamy ribbons that reach all the way up to the curve of your jaw.

And you swallow.

“I— fuck, m’so sorry. I didn’t mean to—” Mark’s breath stutters when your head dips, your eyes locked on his and your tongue drags along the tip of his cock, wet muscle flicking against his slit. And his hands fist the sheet.

“Finish making my bed.” You lift yourself from where you’re resting, unbothered by the mess on your throat and you make your way towards your en suite, closing the door behind you and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

Internally panicking and you have to fight to get your nerves steady.

And your lips purse, an intrusive thought causing you to drag your digit through the messy spent on your throat, and you bring your finger to your lips. Tasting the peculiar taste. Brows knitting as you try to place the flavours. Sweet. A little bit bitter, and so, so warm.

Mark stares at the bathroom door, his heart pounding in his chest before he grabs his phone, bated breaths slipping past his lips and he pants hard. Thumbs flying across his keyboard and his leg bounces.

Invinci-bitch: “Tell Cecil I’m not coming.”

Invinci-bitch: “Space flu or whatever.”

Rex takes a while to respond.

Rex Splooge: “Space herpes. Got it 👌”

Fuck. Mark discards his phone, tucking himself back into his boxers before continuing to make your bed, although, big brown eyes keep glancing towards the bathroom door.

He’d really prefer to not have ‘space herpes’.

But he’ll take what he gets.

Especially if what he gets, involves that plush, shit-talking mouth wrapping around his cock.

⋆⑅˚₊୨🌼୧₊˚⑅⋆𓈒

“William, she’s making my hands sweaty.”

Mark’s voice is hoarse, wiping his sweaty palms on the surface of his shorts for what could be the eighth time this hour, eyes darting towards where you’re helping clean up the kitchen, a mess after Mark’s 13th birthday party. A few neighbours kids, maybe a handful of classmates he liked and a mess of wrapping paper that you’d suggested he keep.

“Yeah.” William slurps on his milkshake, blueberry tinting the inner bits of his lips a slight blue. “Me and your dad were mocking you for it.”

And Mark huffs.

“Of course you were.” And he glances back towards you, your arms submerged in soapy hot water, lips curled into a grin as you chat so easily with Nolan, who’s rough hands remain drying the dishes. “She’s so… pretty.”

Mark’s lips curl at the memory, eyes focused on you as you continue swiping through your For You page, attention entirely captured by the sight of makeup brushes, gently brushing against some stupidly overpriced mic, accompanied by gentle taps against the stand. His arm remains tossed over your belly, cheek pressed against your shoulder and a leg wrapped around yours. His warm palm, pressed against your even warmer tummy.

And he swallows.

“I think Mark’s got a crush on you.” Nolan’s voice is quiet, hands wrapped up in a plaid kitchen cloth, the bright crimson standing out against his muscular forearms. “Look.” And you follow Nolan’s gaze towards Mark.

Surrounded by kids, opening birthday presents and giving toothy grins and sweet ‘thank you’s.

And your expression softens.

“Mr Nolan, if Mark likes me, it’s because he’s never spoken to another girl before.” You snort. “He’d have a crush on William if William was a girl.”

And you glance back towards Mark, catching his gaze and you watch the way his lips curl, perfect teeth displayed and God, your heart clenches in your chest. And you smile back, trying to play off the way those rosy apples make your face heat up.

“Your heartbeat got sooooooooooooooo fast.” Nolan whispers, almost conspiratorially. And you glare up at Nolan.

“I’ll make him dress up as Duct-Tape Man.” You threaten and Nolan’s eyes narrow at you. And you snort out a laugh.

“Why’d you get so mad about that in the first place, sir?” You question.

“He used the good tape.”

“It wasn’t because you were the only girl I spoke to.” Mark speaks up, swallowing heavy and he glances up towards your face, eyes roving over your features and ultimately, landing on the curve of your bottom lip. So plump. So inviting.

“Huh?” You question, a brow raising and you pause the video on your phone, screen displaying, ‘GRWM FOR CONFRONTING MY BF ABOUT CHEATING ON ME W/ MY BD’.

“When you told my dad I would only like you because you’re the only girl I spoke to.” He whispers softly. “That wasn’t why.” His warm grip tightens on your waist, fingers pressing into the soft, squishy flesh.

“It was because you were the only girl I wanted to talk to.”

There’s a knot in your belly, your lashes fluttering with each slow, cat-like blink you give Mark and you feel the way his heartbeat gets faster. His breathing deepening and his eyes flicker towards your lips, brows knitting in a way that could only be described as longingly before he meets your gaze again.

Puppy eyes soft and loving.

“You’re still the only girl I wanna talk to.”

Your expression softens, lashes fluttering so prettily and you swallow, the corners of your lips tugging downwards and you can feel your eyes becoming a little bit glossier.

“What about William?” Your voice is sweet, and so soft, and it would’ve sounded earnest if he didn’t understand you. And he snorts.

“William doesn’t count.” He huffs out a laugh, his hand leaving your belly to cradle the side of your face, wiping away that fat rivulets before it an even reach the curve of your cheek and his lips curve into a soft smile.

Before he teases you.

“Now say something nice about me.” He nudges you, shifting over you until your thighs are on either side of his hips, one hand bracing your hio whike the other presses against your cheek.

“You too, are the only girl I wanna talk to.” You snort and Mark rolls his eyes, biting the inside of his cheek to hide the grin that threatens to make his cheeks dimple in that adorably dorky way.

“I’m a man.” He corrects.

“You’re a boy at best.” You huff.

And he leans in, the ball of his nose brushing against yours, breath ghosting over your lips.

“Oh really?” He hums. “You wanna see how much of a man I am?”

T🌼A🌼G🌼L🌼I🌼S🌼T

@lucky-beheaded ; @queen-of-gotham ; @coldvirginbitch ; @wittyjasontodd ; @a-n-a-n-a1 ; @dearlyya ; @broicouldjustbuyyousomekombucha ; @jasontoddswhitestreak ; @daydreams-and-peace ; @misstyy12 ; @fruticake ; @httpstes ; @waterflowersblog ; @glowinthedarkjellyfish ; @vm4879bb-blog ; @monaekelis ; @radlovesfics ; @allycat4458 ; @bigbodycity ; @feral010 ; @anesthesia-4rizzle ; @princesstrunkz ; @blackfox774 ; @sh1d0uryus31 ; @your-lovely-rose26 ; @slugstarzz ; @ripcolel0l ; @strawbiemilk420 ; @verysynical ; @kikiiguess ; @missam ; @luvvfromme ; @luvvcharxo ; @alma-ru3 ; @mxvoid26 ; @urfriendlyfrog ; @the-good-kooshe ; @troublesome-nara ; @secretaccountlol ; @syubseokie; @atanukileaf ; @im-nowhere-but-also-somewhere ; @i-love-frensh-fries ; @lov3vivian ; @boyofroyo1 ; @tamaranblaze ; @supersecretxreadersideblog ; @etphonehome0623 ; @markgraysonlover ; @icanmeltanigloo ; @itzmeme ; @buckturd

[radgeorgie]

Hi. I do not know you, but I want to say a couple of things. I've looked at your blog and you seem like a kind, smart and interesting person. People like you make this world a better place. There's always someone that needs you, even if you don't notice it. Please don't do anything harmful to yourself. Trust me, it will be better. You're not alone in this. You'll be fine.

hi! i know you are trying hard to help me, but this just proves to me that you actually have not looked through my blog. literally, I am alone in this - hence the reason why I keep saying I'm "severely isolated" and "have no one in my life." and i KNOW people NEED me in their life, it's just they don't care enough about ME to keep me in their life past what I can give to them. i'm not even sure if I make the world a better place, considering I never fucking leave this house, and absolutely nobody fucking speaks to me.

i don't want to be needed, I want to be treated like a fucking human being with their own thoughts, feelings, and opinions. i have weight to myself and my words, and my being - more than just what I can do for other people, anon. it's just, absolutely nobody sees that - not even anonymous people on the internet, I suppose.

[jollyhunter]

♡ MILKSHAKE FOR TWO ♡

LOVERBOY ! SOLDIER BOY / BEN x fem!Reader [Happy Valentine’s Day!!]

WARNING Fluff, Angst (bearable), Smut with plot - NSFW - MDNI!; fingering, a lil' spankin', biting, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v (wrap it before u tap it!), softdom!Ben (gasp!), faking orgasm, Ben reprimanding you, aftercare (Ben's way lol), strong language, basically just a general warning for Soldier Boy, no use of Y/N

⋆ ˚｡⋆ NOTE Okay sweethearts, this is my first time writing for Soldier Boy so please be lenient with me. 😭 Getting this man's colorful speech feel right as a non-native English is a real challenge lmao

After reading the Loverboy!Ben Headcanons by @lovedahlia I finally found the courage to pick this idea up again! And thanks @zepskies Coffee Shop Hadcanons for inspiring me with the sweet ending!! (and the pussy drink 💀)

⋆ ˚｡⋆ SUMMARY The lovey-dovey atmosphere around Valentine's Day did little to ease your ache. To put it blunt; Lately your love life's been... let's say dull. Since for whatever reason getting off was turning out to be frustratingly difficult. Or more like, impossible; You just outlast any man in bed.

Well, except maybe for the cocky bastard of a supe seated across of you… Who you’d just made a bet with.

⋆ ˚｡⋆ WORDS ~7.4k [my longest fic so far!? 😭]

♡ MILKSHAKE FOR TWO ♡

One, two, three, five - now another orgasm. You lost count. He keeps rocking his hips as you ride another one of your highs out, his cock throbbing inside you -

“Is it hot?” Ben’s gravely voice throws you right off your imaginary man, eyes snapping up at him with a look of panic and confusion.

The warm scent of weed wafts through the musky air and hits your nose, reminding you of your situation; Right. You’re here to ‘babysit’ Soldier Boy while he’s meticulously rolling joints and taking a swig of his beer every now and then.

“W-what?” Your thumb quickly swipes away the fanfic on your phone’s screen, feigning innocence.

“The picture of your boyfriend’s dick.” He replies. The motel’s dim light frames the intense gaze occasionally drifting toward you, a teasing smile tugging at his beard when he continues. “Can’t ignore the way you’ve been practically eye-fucking that thing for the past six joints.” He jerks his chin at the phone now tightly clasped under your hands likes it’s holding all your sins in one place.

“What- that’s not- no- what the hell.” You stutter, while you’re secretly relieved that his mind took a different direction.

“Hm,” he grunts, unconvinced, his eyes briefly closing. You tense up in the couch when his elbows slide off the table, now resting on his spread legs, his head tilting your way. “What’s it then, huh? Internet?”

Ah yes, you were looking at internet. Hughie had mentioned the word to him some days ago, but no one seems to have had the patience – or guts – to properly explain it to him. You smirk to yourself, but keep the mocking comment back. You didn’t want to risk him snatching your phone away again, as he had done many times before just to annoy you.

“Yeah, internet. It’s like a – a library, but digital, you know?” You try to explain. Your hands casually let the phone disappear in your jeans’ back pocket while you make sure to keep the discussion going. “How do you even know about dickpics? My gramps sure as hell wouldn’t know.”

“Oh fuck off.” He throws you a half-arsed scowl over the edge of his canted beer, “I basically invented it. The concept of showing off your dick to your girl ain’t that goddamn new-fangled.” He sneers the word ‘new-fangled’, his free hand waving dismissively in your direction.

The frown on his lips shifts into a crooked smile at what seems to be a particularly fond memory popping up in his mind. Cute, it suits him.

“I once had Warhol print my dick in the colors of the American flag. Surprised Countess with one on every fuckin’ wall.”

“Wow.” You can’t help but shake your head and crack a laughter at the mental image. “I bet she was ecstatic.”

“Oh you can bet my nutsack. That night we fucked like bunnies. Skeeted those paintings. Redecorated the whole damn thing.” He grins like a proud boy before his fond smile suddenly flips, “Now the bitch’s gargling dirt.”

The air thickened and your chest tightens. Only the sound of his fingers briefly strangling the neck of his beer bottle fills the tense silence in the room.

Your eyes drift to the ground, scrambling for something to say to steer the conversation away from his dead ex - but he beats you to it.

Ben has let out a heavy sigh after he took a swig, the beer bottle now tipped in your direction.

"So. No boyfriend then, huh?" He muses before he tilts his head, his lips curling into a smug smirk, “Gonna spend your national fuck day all alone with a pillow between your legs?”

“I- I’m not spending my - as you call it so colourfully - ‘national fuck day’ with a pillow between my legs. Thank you very much.”

“No? Not gonna rawdog it while you’re thinking of me?”

Your eyes widen at that wild accusation - not that he was wrong about the latter assumption. But you certainly wouldn’t let him know that.

Your cheeks flush slightly and you quickly force your parted lips into a firm, tight line. “For your information. I’ll not spend my day all sad and pathetic home alone but will be going out to Jerry’s Coffeehouse and treat myself with an extra large matcha milkshake with chocolate chips and loads of vanilla syrup. And it’ll be my best fucking Valentine’s day.”

His eyebrow pops up at that, his sharp eyes observing you for a moment as if he’s considering something, his expression a mixture between amusement and something else which you can’t quite read.

After a moment his lips quirk, voice confident, but there’s also a hint of curiosity hidden behind it, “Ah, that’s a code word for you rounding the bases, hm? Get yourself a sweet fuckin’ home run. All Turn-Down and the whole nine yards.”

“What? No – agh - Not everything’s about sex, Ben.” You groan and drag a hand down your face, trying your best to hide the tinge of bitterness in your voice. “Unlike me, I bet you wouldn’t survive a day without jerking off if I wasn’t cockblocking you with my mere presence.”

“And I bet I could ruin you real fast if you didn’t act like a little tight-folded nun around me all the time.”

Your breath catches in your throat for a moment. In all these weeks, Ben never made a move on you. Not even a single attempt at flirting with you. To the point that - even though you knew you shouldn’t - you started to wonder whether it was your looks or your personality you’d have to blame for.

So, yes, you have indeed acted rather, let’s say, ‘reserved’ around Ben.

But that wasn’t because you were appalled by the thought of what he could do to you with you sprawled out beneath him, all open and inviting. Quite the contrary. It was because you liked the thought, but also didn’t want to fall for yet another man who’d just use you for his pleasure.

So you made sure to keep him at an arms length.

“Jesus, you’re so damn vulgar.” You utter, your back slumped against the couch’s armrest while you try your best to act unaffected by his words, “ You kiss a lady with that dirty mouth of yours?”

“What’s the deal with you chicks? I ain’t friggin' Cary Grant, y’know?” He takes a messy swig of his beer and briefly wipes his beard with the back of his hand, “Y’all so damn sensitive.”

“Yeah, I wish.” You grumble, the words slipping your lips before you can give them a second thought.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

“You don’t believe me, sweetheart?”

“You know what? Yeah.” You retort out of nowhere, purely driven by all the pent-up frustration of the past months. Straightening up, you proceed to make it worse in such a confident tone which even surprises yourself, “I bet my ass that I could outlast you in bed.”

It was frustrating. And felt embarrassing. Really. It didn’t help that you tried to sell it as if it was an achievement worth an oscar.

"Well, that just proofs it then."

"Proofs what?"

"That you're a wuss-fucker. Just some pathetic fucking dicks dippin' in there." Ben jerks his head towards the spot hidden between your tightly crossed legs and he snorts in amusement at your grimace. "What? ‘Tis a real shame’s all I’m sayin’. I mean, what real man doesn't make sure his girl gets off first.” He leans back and sneers against the mouth of his beer bottle, “'S pathetic, really."

"Yeah, right." you roll your eyes, your voice tighter, "'Cuz I bet you're such a gentleman in bed. But you can't proof shit."

“Oh you’re on.” He quickly sets down the bottle and flashes his cocky grin at you, his voice dropping an octave to hit that tingling spot inside you, “I’ll have you cum so damn hard, you’ll be screamin’ and kickin’ while I hold ya down. And guess what, sweetheart…”

He pushes off the chair, his large frame looming over you before he bends down to your eye-level, his voice dipping into a low, deep gravelly tone, “I ain’t gunna let ya move a single inch… and have you take it like a good fuckin’ girl.”

Silence. Only the soft gulp of your last sense of self-control getting forced down your throat cuts through the thick air between you.

He holds your gaze, a playful smile spread across his lips when he straightens up again, his voice nonchalant. “‘Course, only if you want.”

“I do.” The answer came faster than you could even process it.

He looks back down at you, a flash of genuine surprise crossing his eyes before he covers it up with a smug expression, “Oh yeah?”

His words were like the flick of a switch.

Next moment clothings were flying across the room, partially torn as neither of you had the patience to get them off properly. The heat between you skyrocketed, heavy breathing filling your ears in tandem with intense drumming of your heart. Soft golden rays peek through the shutters, their light bouncing off his darkened eyes and casting shadows of wild, fervent bodies moving through the room like a tempest.

God you felt so pent up - it was driving you mad. The desperate need for relief, for reaching that sweet peak of ecstasy. It clouds your mind, has your will to think straight completely subdued.

Ben doesn’t seem to be in much more control either, his hands flying across your body, like he doesn’t know what to explore first. He pushes you up against the wall, the force deliberately kept to a minimum. His nose draws a line across your shoulder, inhaling your scent like a drug, all the way up your neck until he exhales again, the hot breath pressed against your skin under your jaw.

“Fuck me – you’re intoxicatin’, woman.” He rasps out, his voice raw and full of barely contained need.

Your breath comes out shaky, head tilted to the side without a second thought. “Ben,” you say his name close to a whine, your mind handing over the reigns to him, “Please don’t stop.”

“Won’t-” he mutters against your skin, his voice muffled by the trail of kisses, “’M not gonna stop until you’ve cum.” His teeth skim along your pulse point and for a moment you feel like your legs give in. But he quickly steadies you, his large hands moving down your sides to hold onto your hips with a firm grip. “Promise.” He adds hoarsely, some of your skin now tugged between his teeth as he starts to leave love bites in his wake. “We got a bet goin’, after all.”

Your body’s now moving on instinct and for only one purpose. Your need, your heat, it’ll keep you going, you know it. No matter how long you’ll have to pant like a racing horse, no matter how much you’ll regret it the next day when you’ll feel stiff and aching at places you didn’t even know you had muscles.

It all doesn’t matter right now. It is all just you and him. The world reduced to his strong arms wrapped around your fragile frame, his muscles flexing as he lifts you up, and his world reduced to your legs wrapping around his hips, your aching core pressed up against his bulging boxers.

Your lips collide with his, their first meeting sending a bolt of pleasure through your body. Your mind goes hazy, your legs tighten around his hips and your hands hang onto his shoulder in an attempt to hold him close.

Your heads swivel, mouths working passionate. But to your surprise, Ben still keeps it slow, savouring every bit of your lips dancing around his. His tongue’s tasting the inside of your mouth as he swallows your moans and fills it with his own groans. Teeth gently pull at your lower lip before he finally breaks the kiss, to give you the chance to catch your breath.

You pant against him, your lips burning from the stubbles but still lingering there. You suddenly feel the rest of your body again, a shudder running down your spine, right to your aching core.

That’s when you notice how wet your inner thighs are, the slick coating your skin and folds. Ben licks his lips, the scent of your undeniable arousal filling his senses. He moves you on his hips, pinning you further against the wall to hold you in place with one hand while the other trails over the bump of your hipbones, dipping down between your legs.

“Christ on a Stake. You’re so fuckin’ pent up. What did those wusses do to let you leave like this?” He groans, fingers coating in your slick as he runs them down your inner thigh.

Your eyes briefly flutter closed, your hips bucking against him with the need for some friction already. “Please, I- Ah-fff- ” You mutter, your words cut short by a terribly needy whine when Bens fingertips brush across your clit.

“Yeah, yeah, calm the hell down” he chuckles, his lips back to suck a red mark at your neck, “’M gonna take care of that needy pussy of yours, dontcha worry.”

You nod, soft moans slipping your red puffy lips as he assaults every inch of skin he can reach. Your eyes widen with a yelp when you suddenly feel yourself getting heaved up high and your limbs flail uncontrollably in a panic.

“Hey- stop struggling darlin’, I don’t wanna hurt you.” He orders gruffly, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips to keep you safely in his grip. With one swift move he lifts you high enough for your legs to drape over his shoulders on each side, his palms now wrapping around the underside of your thighs to keep you pinned between the wall and his head. In moments like these you could feel a shiver run down your back, as you’d just been reminded again of the inhuman power imbalance between you two. Fuck - he could snap you in two if he’d want to.

“Now that’s a view I could get used to,” He growls, his lips curled into a hungry smile at the sight of your dripping hole, all open and inviting, and right on his eye-level. “So damn needy. ‘N so damn beautiful.” He muses, ignoring the increased panting of yours against the top of his head while you’re murmuring his name like a prayer.

His grip tightens as he pushes his head between your thighs, his hot breath against your clit sending sparks of fire through your body. He digs right in, eagerly swiping his tongue between your folds, swirling around your clit, teasing your entrance with slow deliberate slaps of his tongue. You start to squirm and moan in response, the friction like a pain-killer to your aching core.

“Hold still damn it,” he orders, the rumbling of his voice against your folds sending shivers up your spine. You whimper and his intensity increases in response. He groans when your fingers tangle up in his hair and your fingernails scrape at his scalp with frantic motions.

“Fffuck- please, please, please don’t stop, don’t stop-” You plead in weak whimpers as you can feel his beard burn your sensitive skin with every drag of his tongue up your folds, the prickling pain mixing with your pleasure. Meanwhile the muscles in his arms flex to hold you still, keep you pinned up high against the wall and to make sure you don’t accidentally tumble off his shoulders.

His lips close around your clit and he starts to suck terrible whines out of you, your legs fighting his hands under his onslaught. Your pleasure begins to coil tight, your body twitches and your fingers claw at his long hair for the following minutes - but it never snaps. How the fuck does it still not snap?

A whine of protest leaves your lips when he suddenly pulls his head back. You watch his glistening face from half lidded eyes, your chest heaving, some of your sweet juice caught in his beard.

“Damn, darlin’, you’re a tough case, huh?” He chuckles, the tongue swiping his lips to savour your taste again with a low praising groan, “Fuck- Marilyn Monroe’s a dumpster next to you. You taste like fuckin’ heaven.”

A gasp slips your lips when he decides to haul you over his shoulder and with three long strides crosses the room over to the bed when a SMACK has you yelp up. The skin of your asscheek reddens where his hand just swatted you and he chuckles. “You’ve got a long night ahead of you.”

You struggle and squirm in protest but it’s no use, his tight grip around your waist keeps you on his shoulder, facing the other way with your nice bum exposed to him. “You ain’t goin’ anywhere.” His hand swats your other asscheek this time and he laughs at your needy whine, his tone amused as you can practically hear the smirk playing on is lips, “I haven’t even started.”

His voice sounds raspy, but his tone tells you he’s thrilled, as if the fact that you didn’t shatter from his touch yet, has him enthralled. After all, Soldier Boy was used to things being easy for him, to succeed with half an effort, so real challenges were a rare case for him. And your stubbornly high resistance to falling over the edge seemed to be just that.

Next moment Ben bends down, dropping you gently onto the bed before the mattress dips down under his additional weight when he crawls on top of you. His hands roam your body, groping the soft flesh at your hips, your thighs, roughly massaging your breasts as he pinches your nipples between his fingers.

You start to squirm and tremble from need, your fingernails scraping at his taut muscles that box you in from all sides. “Just hold still for me, yeah? Just lemme do the work…” he husks out, voice low and dangerous with promise that sends a shiver down your spine.

He leans in and breaths hot and low against the shell of your ear while you feel his hand trail down between your shaking legs. “Will get this needy pussy wrecked and all mine…”

You hum into his shoulder when he pushes his index finger past your slick folds, and he takes that as a cue that you need more, so his middle finger quickly follows. This time he manages to draw a soft moan from your lips, your arms wrapping around his neck where you start to kiss and nibble his skin. “You greedy little thing…” he growls, his lips quirked into a smirk.

He starts to pump them, his fingers curling to hit your spongy spot that earns him at least a little louder moan. “Please,” you start to beg, “I need more, Ben… please-” He doesn’t wait and jams a third finger inside your tight cunt before he flicks his thumb over the hood of your swollen clit, the pace of his hand slapping loudly against your cunt increasing. The stretch of his fat fingers filling you up, rubbing your g-spot and scissoring, it all has your legs trembling, the coil in your stomach tightening again to the point where it just – flat lines.

Ben notices the frustration in your eyes and he leans in to press a sloppy kiss onto your damp forehead. His thumb rubs faster circles over your clit, his eyes locked onto your face when his impatience starts to mutter under his breath. "We got us a real stubborn pussy here, hm? You think everyone else is too much of a wuss to keep up with you, huh? Is that it? You need someone who can give as good as they get?"

“Fine” He grunts, pulling his fingers from your dripping hole, his voice gruff with irritated determination, “Looks like this’ a job for my dick. Gonna fuck you over that edge in no time.”

“Please.” You whine, your face buried in his broad shoulder. Your clit swollen, throbbing, tingling, every nerve of your body burning hot and leading down to that one single aching knot as your system was threatening to short-circuit your brain, just to get this damn bundle of nerves to finally erupt.

He quickly gets rid of his boxers, his thick cock free and fully erect. He grapples with your twitching legs, spreading them apart and pulling you back towards his hips where his pink tip pushes against your entrance. You stifle a mewl, your hips bucking instinctively as you need him. Need all of him.

Both of your groans collide between your lips when he snaps his hips and pushes his shaft all the way into your tight channel in one - unceremonious – go. He stills for a moment, his breath hot and heavy when it wafts against your face, “You good?”

His voice was low, a hoarse whisper between the two of you. You nod once again, a weak “yeah” tumbling off your lips. His hands move up to grip onto your hips like handles, his hips slowly starting to move.

You groan at the feeling of his thick pulsing length dragging down your soft walls before being jammed back in all the way up until he hits your cervix and he coaxes a whimper from you. His pace isn’t fast, but his thrusts are deep, each one well measured and deliberate.

“That’s it, you can take it… taking my cock so fuckin’ well...” He mutters against your skin, his tongue swiping across your salty skin.

When he starts to increase his force, your fingers dig into his skin and if it wasn’t for his indestructibleness, he was sure he’d have some nice and long claw marks of you down his back. He hooks your legs over his shoulders and cants your hips, getting an even deeper angle this way. Slouching noise fills the room, the sound of wet skin clashing together in time with your increasing moans and whines and his grunts and groans.

His hand suddenly reaches up to grab your chin, his eyes locking onto yours. "See, darlin'? I’ll have you fall apart beneath me soon enough… can't keep your pussy giving me that attitude, that's how you end up in a mess like this.” He mocks you with a teasing chuckle, “Getting the stuffing pounded out of you, all because you couldn't control that naughty mouth of yours and had to make a bet with me."

You just nod, the meaning of his words flying by your clouded mind. Your sole focus’ on your building pleasure, rapidly charging up your throbbing clit. Ben notices it too when your walls start to clamp down on his cock, every hard thrust forcing its way back in to keep the pleasure building.

“Fuck – you’re so tight – You gonna strangle my damn dick at this point.” He hisses, his fingers digging into your flesh again to pull your hips back and meet his thrusts.

“You close, darlin’?” Ben grunts above you.

There it is again. That embarrassing moment of silence. You would’ve sighed right now if it wasn’t for you being buried beneath Ben and his punctured thrusts knocking the air out of you.

Are you close? Your core’s on fire. Certainly. To the point where it hurts even. You feel your legs and feet tingling like white-noise is rushing through your blood, leaving every sensitive nerve in its wake going numb.

But still. You know you wouldn’t tip over. Stuck in that fucking uphill battle. It was just. Not. Enough. It never was nowadays.

The blatant lie sits on the tip of your tongue when Ben’s gruff voice suddenly cuts in.

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare fake it.”

How - Your mind comes to a screeching halt.

You choke it back down. Cancel the act that was up next, your well-versed finale to the dull program you were used to.

Shit, he knows.

“N-no…” you confess under your breath. The sound of it weak and to your relief, lost between his heavy grunts.

Or so you think.

“What? You think I’m some spineless wuss who can’t get his girl off?” He punctures each word with a deep thrust as he keeps pounding you into the mattress, “Just tell me whatever the fuck you need me to do, I’m not gonna cry, Jesus Christ.” He continues to reprimand you in a firm tone, his voice holding a hint of disappointment.

You gasp, your breath gets stuck in your throat. No man has ever asked you this before. No one.

Ben suddenly stills, his green eyes locking with yours when his voice takes a serious tone, “You need me to be rougher, pretty girl? That it?”

Your breath hitches, your mind dizzy and clouded by his musky scent, the feeling of him inside you, above you, all around you - and the heat still burning between your legs, still not on that damn edge to your long chased relief.

He leans down next to your head to scrub his beard along your cheeks and up to your ear, “Just say the word,” he growls and you can practically see the smirk spread across his face by the way he sounds.

He knows. Fuck he knows you need more.

And yet he waits for your response, patiently, his body still hanging onto you with a tight grip while his hot breath wafts against the shell of your ear in short bursts like a countdown.

There’s a moment of tense silence, like the calm before a storm. A force that is waiting for you to invite it in, to let it wreck your temple.

“Y-yes, please,” Your voice’s trembling slightly from each puff of warm air that’s huffed from between his lips and smothered across your skin, sending a shiver down your back.

“Jackpot,” he hums, a satisfied expression on his face before his lips begin aimlessly placing kisses all over your face, as if trying to soothe your frustration. “Not gunna hold back anymore… gunna fuck you so long ‘n so hard you won’t be able to walk for the next days. You like that thought, hm?”

“Y—yeah- please – just don’t stop…” you admit with a needy whine, your legs twitching against his shoulders and your head tilted back while your hands start to fist the sheets in anticipation. You’d surely fall over the edge in the next minutes. You had to.

Little did you know, that you’d still be going for the next couple of hours.

You switched positions every time you felt how your clit was going numb from the overstimulation and the pent up energy. Ben’s bulky body kept working relentlessly, his power not faltering once, his pace never slowing down unless he noticed you needed a moment to catch your breath.

He’d be trapping you under him, ass high up in the air, back pressed down with one hand splayed across it, wrists somewhere buried in the pillows and pinned there roughly by his other hand as he slammed is cock against your cervix in a brutal pace.

“Tell me when you’re close,” he orders, his lips against the spot behind your ear and his long, stubby beard scraping your skin as his jaw moves, “I want to see your beautiful face when you rock that high the way you fuckin’ deserve.”

“Oh- Oh fuck- I- I’m close-“ you scream as you feel his hard tip punch your spongy walls like he’s trying to engrave himself into your every inch and his fingers meanwhile rubbing your clit sore. He roughly flips you over onto your back, his lips catching yours just in time when your walls flutter around him and finally, finally that sweet relief crashes down on you. Unexpected and intoxicating as your guttural moans get muffled by his mouth. “God- this- you, God-”

He pulls back, huffing a raspy laughter with a mock-offended tone, “God? I’m fuckin’ better.” He feels your cum coat his cock, your walls wrapping tightly around him. It takes all his will power to hold himself back, to not empty himself inside you. Not yet. Not when he’d promised you to keep going all night. “That’s it,” He plants a praising kiss onto your forehead, his gruff voice rumbling against your skin, “And now let’s hear it once more. Just for good measure.”

And he does. Fingers sink into your skin whenever he’d move you around, large hands holding you down, up, on top of him, against him, muscles working all around you while they would bend or push you into any position, effortlessly.

His superhuman strength overpowers you without even trying, but it feels like he’s only ever using as little as needed to get a reaction out of you. A good reaction. When he roughly flips you over again, pushes you into the mattress, pins your head to the sheets as you squirm and tremble under him, you notice his lips brush up against your ear more frequently, murmuring incoherent, soothing words. Like he’s following the urge to be closer to you. Making silent check-ins. Always making sure you’re not overwhelmed, making sure that those whines and yelps are the cause of pleasurable pain and nothing else. At last, you find yourself on top of him, straddling his hips, bouncing on his hard cock as you ride him like a bull. “What was that about you outlasting me, huh?” He taunts and mocks you in time with rough strokes along your exhausted gummiwalls, “‘bout taking whatever I can throw at you, hm?” He snaps his hips up to meet you halfway when you yelp a short admission, “O-okay, you win!”

His lips curl into a smug smile, “What was that? You gotta work that pretty mouth of yours. Gramps ears ain’t that good.” He pulls you down roughly, making you take him deeper with each thrust of his.

“Y-yar r-ah-iight!” You groan as you fall apart one more final time. Your walls flutter and this time he allows himself to let you pull him over the edge along you. His pulsing cock coating your insides with his warm cum. Your voice’s raspy from the harsh breaths you’ve sucked down your open mouth for the past hours.

You collapse to his chest, shaking from the waves of pleasure that rippled through your every fibre and the feeling of his warm seeds filling you up and dripping down his shaft and onto his skin. His arms wrap around your back to hold you close while he murmurs naughty words against the crown of your head.

While Ben had gotten himself a joint to smoke, you padded into the bathroom, getting yourself cleaned. “You doin’ good, darlin’?” He calls after you, loosley holding the joint between his lips as he props himself up against the bed’s headboard.

You return after a while, your body wrapped up in a towel as you make your way back to the bed and snuggle up to him. He drapes his arm lazily around your shoulder, pulling you closer so that your head rests on his firm chest.

“You really had to work for it… huh?” You break the silence with a low mutter, feeling some embarrassment creep up on you.

“You kiddin’?” His eyes snap down at you and he takes a drag of his joint before he continues, “Darlin’, you’ve got the drive of a bunny in heat. Taking my cock so fuckin’ well. Most tap out after the second round but you -“ he lets out a low whistle close to a hiss, “- you just keep goin’ all night – Fuckin’ unbelievable.”

“Oh shush…” You giggle sheepishly.

“Just speaking the damn truth. You be proud of that, ya hear me?” He says in a firm voice, while he reaches up to stroke a damp hair out of your face.

You smile, feeling your chest tingle and your cheek warm up, “This was… this was unbelievable. You were amazing.”

He laughs and flashes a cocky grin down at you, “Told ya my dick would beat your pussy over that edge.“

You cringe inwardly at his choice of words, “That’s not what I meant. I’m not talking about your… your dick or your stamina. I’m talking about you.” You pause, his eyebrows knot together and you quickly add, "Like, non-physically."

He stares at you, nonplussed - then irritated. “Fuck me. You - you snort some of my shit, prissy little thing?”

“No, Ben-,” a soft, frustrated chuckle escapes your lips that makes his eyebrows twitch together again, “You - you are amazing.”

You repeat but this time tilt your head back to hold his gaze, like you’re pointing at the soul hiding behind those green orbs that stare back at you, while your fingers draw invisible circles on his arms.

Silence.

Ben’s sharp eyes are searching your face for clues, like he’s mentally going through every drug that could have led you to say something as ridiculous as that.

You smile in return. A genuine, honest smile. Aimed at him. And his mind short circuits for a moment.

A faint flash of something like a blush crosses his cheeks, but it is covered up the same moment with his usual gruff expression and an irritated scoff. “‘Course I’m fuckin’ amazin’. Besides that, I just wanted to win the bet.” His teeth flash at you between a cocky smirk. “And I proofed you damn wrong.”

Ah, there it is again, good ol’ Soldier Boy.

Walls and barb wire and mine field; all up and ready to defend that one and only fragile part of his indestructible body. Keeping it strapped down by some rush of power trip and waterboarded in his twisted idea of love.

You chuckle, knowingly. That damn soft smile on your lips again.

He stares down at you with an unreadable expression, like he’s fighting the urge to slap some sense into you for throwing such an inappropriate gesture his way. To him, it was infuriating, really. But thanks to that stupid curve dancing across your face, he now feels himself caught up in a whole new range of emotions.

You could have gotten up now and left. Like you were sure he expected you to. Probably one of the reasons he kept silent, his brows pulled low like a defensive shield against your gaze, his arm draped around your shoulders so awkwardly… ‘cuz he knew he wasn’t good at this. Aftercare. He’s practically just waiting for you to snap at him, and pull away without another good word. His eyes narrow further, almost provoking it now as he felt himself slowly crumble under your warm presence.

But none of these thoughts crossed your mind. Instead your fingers gently trace the frame of his hardened face that could’ve fooled anyone but you.

That speck of a blush had been more than enough reason to settle down further into his chest with a soft hum, “Mhm, you did win... Win-win.”

Mindless chattering carries the cozy atmosphere of Jerry’s Coffehouse, each table occupied by couples sharing desserts and passionate kisses. All except the one set under your arms, your fingers loosely holding onto the card before you drop it to the table in resignation.

The sweet scent of sugary sins whirls around your nose, intrusive, mocking you. Now that you are here, sitting in the middle of a room full of unfiltered, tooth-aching love all around you, it seems like your appetite has been spoiled for good.

Truth be told, you can’t entirely blame the lovestruck couples boxing you in like in a bully circle. The problem is much worse. You feel lonely. Not the usual lonely, but terribly lonely because you had something for a moment, something real special, and now it was gone again.

It feels like so many unspoken feelings still hang in the air. At least for you there are. You are pretty sure that Ben was more than happy about Butcher’s interruption just when you thought you’d seen a glimpse of something more beneath this scraggy hard shell of “Soldier Boy”.

You exhale heavily. Your eyes glued down to your empty hands.

Well, it doesn’t matter now, does it? Your job to watch Soldier Boy was done. He’d moved on. It was over. After all, last night was just for some fun, right? Something to finally get you off, to feel so much more than-

You mentally kick yourself. Get your shit together and get back to your old life.

You fish out your phone from your pocket and open the fanfic from yesterday. With a heavy sigh you scroll down the blurry words, memories of your past night flashing across your inner eye – when a sudden noise almost has you drop your phone.

The coffee table rattles under your elbows as the opposite chair clatters into it under the force of a kick and the following screeching sound has some heads whirl around to watch the scene with raised eyebrows.

Whipped cream sploshes for a second as the large glass CLANGS down in front of you and hits the wooden surface with the force of a drunken man handling a beer bottle. You instinctively dodge back in your seat. Your eyes watch the green contents of it sway under the thick layer of chocolate sprinkled cream topping before your befuddled look darts up to meet him.

Ben slumps down across of you. His casual clothes almost could’ve fooled one to believe he’s a regular guy, if it wasn’t for his bulky frame hanging off the seat in all directions.

He looks a tad annoyed, but that was something you’d long become accustomed to. There was always something that pissed Ben off when you were around. Or someone for that matter. But mostly, it was just his resting face and you knew better than to take it personally.

“Couples get one pussy milk for two.” He states gruffly, ignoring all the faces turned his way now.

“…Ben? What the hell are you doing here?” You sputter, thrown off by the sudden whiff of musky smoke mixed with an unusual, intense, fresh and masculine smell… was that perfume that just hit your nose?

His stern expression melts into a flirtatious smile. This is new. “Hey sweetheart. Miss me yet?”

“How did you know I was here? - Wait- did you just say, for couples?”

“That’s what the sailor-hat-cum-gobbler back there said.” He boots back the chair next to you to kick up his legs while he continues with an annoyed grunt, but lacked any bite, “This green spew better be worth my damn money.”

You blink at him rapidly, and quite frankly, dumbfounded. Is that emotionally constipated man even aware of what he just said or-

“That’s what we are, innit?” He cuts you short, his voice as gravelly and confident as always.

But the way his green pupils glance up at you from the corner of his eyes, a thick strand of hair falling into his face when his head tilted away slightly, like a puppy afraid to get kicked… His emotions were subtle, a rare and fleeting moment, and anybody else might have dismissed it. But it told you so much more than he was willing to admit.

When your eyes flicker down to his hand twitching from his death grip on the arm rest, your chest tightens.

Oh my God. Ben was dead fucking serious.

“Don’t people usually first date?” You chuckle nervously, trying to lighten the mood.

And to buy yourself some time as you try to grapple with a situation you had never expected to find yourself in.

In fact, you have pictured yourself in it ever since you stepped into that shabby damn motel room where he had locked eyes with you for the very first time.

His stern expression makes way for a raucous laughter, his voice booming across the small coffee in pride. “I think we’re past that point, love, after I’ve fucked you raw. For five fucking hours. That’s longer than any damn date I’ve ever had.”

“Jesus Christ - Ben - tune it down! Please.” You plead in a hushed voice, face flushed as you can sense all the curious eyes watching you both closely, like you’re part of a live performance. And a scandalous one on top.

“I don’t hear any complaints. Just stating the facts here, sweetheart.” He chuckles cockily and winks at you, clearly his full ego back in place again, “So it’s settled, then?”

“Uh- I - uh-,” you stumble over your words, your hands fidgeting and your head still reeling from the fact that he had just announced your new relationship status as if he’d made a decent marketing deal with Vought.

His eyebrows push together, that familiar look of impatience taking over his face as he tries to understand why you’re still hesitating. You swallow thickly, the lump in your throat blocking any chance to voice your inner struggles.

You visibly shrink under his intense gaze and your eyes sink to the table, unsure of what to do. You sense him move across of you and you half-expect him to either snark at you now or just simply get up and leave. Damnit, now you fucked up.

But instead he slides the XXL milkshake across the table until it bumps into your tightly clasped hands and your eyes dart up to meet his again. He searches your face, emerald eyes sharp, analysing, but motivated by genuine concern.

His calloused fingers slide off the glass to brush them against yours, gentle, almost hesitant. As if those very same fingers hadn’t groped and gripped your flesh all night like he wanted to leave his marks on every inch of your body.

His large hand moves to cover both of yours, muffling the fidgeting of your fingers with a calm and heavy presence, his actions a big contrast to his rumbling voice. “Hey, you still with me?” He husks out your name, his green eyes boring into yours, gauging your reaction.

Your breath hitches, he squeezes your hands, the tension eases. Ben’s grounding you.

“Yes.” You finally whisper with an affectionate smile, and the same moment his fingers twitch around your hands. “It’s settled.”

“Good.” He mutters to himself and his expression seems almost… relieved.

It’s this moment you realise something: Ben’s not been avoiding his usual flirty and cocky smiles because he didn’t like you or thought you weren’t worth a fling. But because you were more than a possible fling to him. Because this, this was dead serious to him. And he was probably terrified of screwing it up.

After all, people didn’t love Benjamin for showing emotions, for vulnerability, for weakness, for being human. They loved Soldier Boy for being a fucking hero. The strongest. Indestructible. And not caressing fragile hands like they were an extention of the most precious soul in the whole damn universe to him.

His hands squeeze yours once more, as if physically reassuring you, before he pulls away and leans back again, now a content smile embellishing his firm face.

A genuine smile. No show. No flirty Soldier Boy.

From one ear to the other, all Benjamin.

As if he’d seen himself in the mirror, he suddenly shifts in his seat, like he’s physically trying to shake off any remaining trace of that disgusting vulnerability. “Right, so…” He clears his throat, his eyes flickering around the packed coffee shop like he’s looking for some moron to latch onto.

You chuckle softly at the sight, knowing all too well that it’ll probably take a hell of a lot of time and love to get him to smile more like this without having him recoil from his own feelings every time.

Sure enough, Ben has found the perfect victim. “Think we gotta step up our couple-game. Popeye’s still ain’t buyin’ it.” He smirks, his eyes lazily rolling over to briefly shoot a death glare at the sailor-hat wearing employee who’s now cowering behind the counter.

He then reaches over the table again, his index finger flicking against one of the two red-white striped straws bobbing in the sweet drink, before he goes on to strangle his own between his calloused finger pads.

“The dick bender’s been watching you all this time.” He growls, and you can feel just a hint of protectiveness from the way his jaw muscle twitches beneath his beard and his nose wrinkles above the straw that’s now been jammed between his bared teeth.

“Everyone’s watching us, Ben.” You chuckle, before your eyes trail down to the free straw with an amused smile.

Ben nudges your inner thigh with his foot under the table to get your attention. “C’mon, you make me look like some cocksucker here.” He teases and jerks his chin at you and the untouched straw still dangling off your side of the milkshake, “You said you wanted a fucking great Valentine’s day, right? So do me a favour, sweetheart, and start sucking.”

You chuckle and bring the straw up to your mouth to wrap your lips around it. You take the first slurp and your cheeks melt into a wide, knowing smile.

Matcha milkshake with chocolate chips and extra vanilla syrup. That much for ‘a code word’.

-------------

A/N: I hope this turned out okay?? 😭

Also. Maybe I was breaking a taboo here or maybe it’s not as common as I thought, but I felt like it's a topic which I have rarely ever see in fanfics. And I know how some just don’t fall over the edge that easily? Like sometimes it genuinely feels frustrating to chase that relief to no end with no success? Yeah, this story is for you all. I hear you. 🧡

Starting a Soldier Boy tag list for anyone who’s interested! ♡ ❀ꗥ Let me know in the comments or fill out this form!

[ponderingmoonlight]

Hi hi hi! I've been missing Levi content for a while now so I hope you won't mind if I request one. Like reader is a high ranking officer (higher than him obv) and they kinda hated each other bc of his attitude and stuff but then she kinda saves him and they started realizing their feelings and stuff

Btw I hope you enjoy your vacation!

You're so right honey, that's why we're doing this right now

Levi slowly but surely falling in love with his commander aka you

Pairing: Levi x fem!reader

Word Count: 2k

Synopsis: Levi never understood you, always hated the way you drag your soldiers around while carrying yourself with ease. Until you're out on another mission together, until he is the one who needs to safe you...

Warnings: None really, enemies to lovers in a kind of hurried way since this is a one shot, don't expect full on making out because again, this is only a one shot. Fluff fluff fluff with little errors here and there since I didn't find the time to re-read

I hear y'all, dearest aot fans! If you'd like to read more about attack on titan, feel free to push this fanfic and let me know 🤍

The tension is thick enough to slice through it with your gear as the Survey Corps make their final preparations before heading into Titan territory. The mission is risky, with the odds stacked against all of you as usual, but that has always been the life of a Survey Corps member.

Especially yours. Being the Lieutenant Commander meant taking a lot of responsibility for everything that happened regarding titans and your soldiers, always having to decide between the sake of a mission and those innocent lives that trust you with all their heart. The voices around you roam through the way too crowded room hectically, turn into a hot mess of different opinions and strategies.

In the midst of the chaos, Levi Ackerman stands with his arms crossed, his icy gaze fixed on the woman issuing orders just a few feet away.

You are everything Levi dislikes in an officer: confident to the point of arrogance, with a sharp tongue to match. Your strategies are always sound, often brilliant, but you have a way of getting under his skin like no one else. As a higher-ranking officer, you are technically his superior, which makes his hatred grow even worse.

“Are you sure this is the best course of action?”

Levi’s voice cuts through the chatter, his tone edged with scepticism like usual when he talks to you.

You don’t even look up from the map spread across the table. It would have surprised you if Levi kept his voice low when it’s always him who contradicts you the loudest.

“Unless you have a better idea, Captain, I suggest you stick to what you do best: killing titans”, you reply dryly.

Levi’s jaw clenches in the most uncomfortable way, a wave of anger rushing through his veins just by hearing your confident tone.

“And what you do best is risking lives for the sake of glory.”

You finally meet his gaze, your eyes flashing with irritation. But even though you know him oh so well by now, he never fails to get on your nerves.

“I’m risking lives to save lives. You, of all people, should understand that.”

“I understand that, Lieutenant Commander,” Levi retorts, the title spat out like venom,

“but this mission is reckless. We don’t need to take unnecessary risks.”

“The greatest risk is doing nothing.”

Your voice is cold, authoritative. Without gifting him another glance, you turn your attention back to the map, effectively dismissing him.

He storms out of the room in order to calm down his pounding heart, the images of the past missions with countless dead soldiers running through his mind all at once. Levi simply hates the way you talk, how someone so intelligent can be so infuriatingly stubborn and goddamn beautiful.

Beautiful?

“I’m losing my fucking mind”, he mutters to himself.

-the day of the mission-

Everything went smoothly. Getting out of the city, not meeting anything but a few 7 meter class titans who get wiped out by your well-thought line-up. As usual you lead the charge, your orders sharp and precise as you direct the troops with your eyes scanning the area like a hawk. Levi is forced to stay close, not out of any sense of duty to you, but because he knows he needs to be there when your plan inevitably goes south.

And it does.

The titans come out of nowhere, an abnormal horde larger and more coordinated than you anticipated. The battlefield erupts into chaos with your soldiers scattered all over the place before you’re even able to think about an order. Within a few seconds, some struggle to follow your orders while others acting on instinct to survive.

Levi’s instincts scream at him to keep moving, to cut through the titans as he always did. But his eyes keep drifting back to you, holding your ground in the middle of the chaos with your ODM gear flashing as you  maneuver between trees and slice through titan napes with deadly precision.

For a moment, he almost respects you. Almost.

But then, a rogue titan barrels toward you, faster than you could react. An abnormal you didn’t have the chance to see coming, aiming directly for your delicate neck. You turn around, eyes widening, realizing too late that you are out of time. You won’t make it.

Levi doesn’t hesitate. In a split second, he is there, blades slicing through the Titan’s nape with effortless precision. The massive body collapses, narrowly missing your frame as it crashes to the ground lifelessly.

For a second, you forget how to breathe. Blood rushes through your ears violently, your whole body starts shaking. This was the closest you’ve ever been to dying. Right here, on a mission that was supposed to be easy. If it wasn’t for him, you’d be gone by now.

Him.

You look at him, breathless, a mix of shock and something else, something unspoken, flickering in your eyes.

“You’re welcome,” Levi says flatly, retracting his blades.

Fuck, he hates the way his heart almost beats out of his chest. Seeing you almost getting dragged into the disgusting mouth of that demon, that glossy layer of fear glistening in your orbs. Truth is, he can’t imagine what life would look like without you. To be honest, just maybe, he somehow needs you in his life.

You don’t respond immediately, still catching your shaky breath. But when you do, your voice is softer, almost reluctant.

“Thank you.”

He gives a curt nod, about to move on, when another wave of Titans emerges from the trees, cutting off their escape. Fuck, you are trapped with no time to regroup or plan. For a split second, both of you exchangd a glance, a silent understanding passing between you.

In the matter of seconds, that minor spark of weakness disappears out of your orbs, gives way to the hardness of your determination. He can’t help but stare at you, that gorgeous face, how fucking strong you look.

There’s no time to stare at you like an idiot, though. You fight back-to-back, moving in a deadly dance of steel and blood. Levi’s movements are precise and brutal, while yours are fluid and strategic, exploiting every weakness you can find. It doesn’t matter if they are abnormal. At the end of the day, all of them are nothing but titans.

And the man fighting by your side? You allow yourself a single glance at him, how effortlessly he slices through each and every neck. He is the humanity’s strongest soldier, an inspiration even though you’d never say that out loud.

Together, you are unstoppable, a force that tears through the wave of titans with an almost terrifying efficiency.

But despite your efforts, the numbers are overwhelming. Your plan was brilliant, but it hasn’t accounted for this level of resistance. And now you are paying the price.

As you fight, your movements begin to slow, exhaustion creeping into your limbs. Levi notices immediately, his keen eyes catching the subtle tremors in your hands, the slight delay in your attacks. You are reaching her limit.

“Fall back,” Levi orders with sharp voice.

“We can’t retreat now,” you argue, even as your breath comes in ragged gasps.

“We need to—”

“You need to survive,” Levi cuts her off, his tone leaving no room for debate.

“You might be the Lieutenant Commander, but that’s an order. I can’t watch you die here. ”

For a moment, she hesitate, your pride warring with the reality of the situation. But the second you catch that look full of worry on his face, notice the pleading tone in his usual so cool voice, you nod. Together both of you retreat, your ODM gear carrying you away from the swarm of dreadful titans.

You land in a small clearing, both of you breathing heavily. For a long moment, you just stand there, surrounded by the unnerving quiet of the forest, the distant sounds of battle fading into the background.

“You saved my life back there”, you finally mumble into the silence.

Levi doesn’t respond immediately, his gaze fixed on the ground. When he finally does, his voice is uncharacteristically soft.

“You would have done the same.”

You nod, a small, tired smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

“I suppose I would have.”

You just stand there in silence for a while, the adrenaline of battle slowly fading, leaving behind an unexpected calm.

It’s strange, Levi ponders, how the heat of battle has somehow cooled the bitterness between them. Somehow, he doesn’t look at you with hatred filling him up to the brim anymore. Somehow, your beautiful appearance doesn’t provoke him like it did before. In its place, something else holds onto his heart, something he isn’t quite ready to name. Is that…blush creeping up his cheeks?

“I’ve misjudged you. You’re not just a killing machine”, you mutter, your eyes meeting his with an intensity that hits him straight to the core.

Levi raises an eyebrow, too busy to stop himself from blushing to prevent that hint of a smirk playing on his lips.

“And you’re not just a reckless strategist.”

You chuckle, a sound that is surprisingly soft, almost gentle. He never heard you laugh, especially not this sincere. What a wonderful sound.

“Maybe we’re both wrong.”

“Maybe.”

Both of you lapse into silence again, but this time more comfortable, less charged with those countless emotions. How is it that a single battle chased away that thick tension of hatred you felt for him just yesterday? Somehow, all you feel now is respect and…

You swallow hard, hungry eyes staring at the ground. Somehow, you feel attraction. Out of instinct, you shake your head in determination, force some sense back into your mind. You’re the Lieutenant Commander, after all.

 “We should get back to the others. They’ll need our help”, you finally speak out while getting up.

Levi nods, but before you move too far away from him, he reaches out, his hand briefly brushing against your arm. Your eyes dart up immediately, heart almost pounding out of your chest.

“Don’t be so quick to throw yourself into the fire next time. You’re no good to anyone dead” he comments with low but firm voice.

When you send a beaming smile his way, Levi almost forgets how to exist. If he had known how gorgeous your lips look, how well smiling suits you.

He’s lost.

“I’ll keep that in mind”, you reply with a sarcastic but warm tone.

-Bonus-

“They give me the ick”, Jean mutters under his breath.

“What? You mean Lieutenant Commander (y/n) and Captain Levi?”, Connie questions.

“Yeah. Didn’t they hate each other? I always thought I might be able to pull her…”

“Something between them changed, I guess”, Mikasa adds, the whole friend group staring at the both of you in sheer disbelief.

“Why are these kids staring at us so stupid”, Levi mutters under his breath, already on his way to confront those brats.

“Don’t.”

Gently, you grab his hand and pull him back towards you.

“Stay with me. That’s an order.”

“An order? You really think you can order me around?”

“Despite being your girlfriend, I’m still your Commander”, you tease him, now placing your hands against his chest.

“Maybe I’ll have to think about that again...”

Tags:

@lees-chaotic-brain @sanicsmut @levislegislation @istglevi-gotmesimping

[raven-cincaide]

Post Canon! Yuuji wants to be a university student. He says that after all the war and loss he needs to catch up on rest and just be human- like the rest of them. He blames Nobara’s insatiable nagging about ‘finally being around people with taste’ and excuses it by saying that Megumi needs to find someone to love- whether the brooding guy wants it or not. However, in truth he misses the carefree school life. And he knows they all need a break from curses. So, after a lot of nagging from his side, the trio sent in their uni applications minutes before the deadline. 

Post Canon! Yuuji is dead set on living his best life in the coming three years. To study “something” while attending every book and nerd club with Megumi, every frat party and adventure with Nobara, and hell, maybe show off some of his god-given sports skills he shunned in high school. After all, girls still dug that sort of thing even at uni- the entire ‘jocks’ and ‘athletes’ persona, right?! 

Post Canon! Yuuji is determined to experience everything being a ‘normal guy’ could get him. He intends to make new friends, be social, live life and get laid as much as possible. Be single and date until he is sick of romance. But most importantly, he wants these three years to be about him, his wants, his needs, and to be a bit goddamn selfish for once. 

At least, that is the plan he declares to his friends as they step onto campus, Nobara and Megumi rolling their eyes at him before heading to get their schedules. While Post Canon! Yuuji headed straight to the housing office because he’d rather be Sukuna’s vessel again than drive two hours daily from campus to the Jujutsu dorms. 

Post Canon! Yuuji sees you, the administrative assistant so far from his usual type, and instantly knows his plans go straight out the window. He shuffles closer to you and the large desk you’re seated at, mouth dry and hands shaking like a teenager as he places his papers and ID on the table before you. He greets you with a shaky smile he hopes doesn’t look like a grimace. “H-Hi! I’m here for house- housing!” God, he sounds like such a noob. 

Post Canon! Yuuji can’t help the genuine grin that splits his face as you flash him a look that so clearly reads ‘obviousely’ before typing away at the computer. The way you act instantly reminds him of Megumi and Nobara, and he feels more at ease around you. 

Then, addressing him like an idiot feels familiar and almost like coming home: “Here is your copy of the contract and the key. You’re in the main dorms, in a single room on the second floor. recycling at the entrance, and the kitchen at the end of the same hall.” You explain, pointing out the location of his room on a map and then the location of the kitchen as if he was so helpless he wouldn’t be able to find it without your guidance.

 “Anything else?” You ask yet it sounds more like a common phrase you utter, expecting a ‘no’ and turning back to your computer to prepare for the next poor sod with a task a glorified monkey could do

But Post Canon! Yuuji isn’t ready to let you go. He wants more of your attention, so he says the first thing on his mind; ”Aww, man, a dorm room? Are you sure? I-I mean, I’m certain I booked a flat!-” Yuji rushes to put on his biggest puppy dog eyes- the kind Nobara says makes him look like a wet dog- “Can you check again? Please? Me and my friends are not from around here, and If I’ve fucked up on housing- man they’ll kill me–” Yuuji rushes out a full-on water-works story, he’s even impressed with himself, maybe he should take up theatre.

Or not, but hey at least it keeps your attention on him.

Post Canon! Yuuji drinks in you and studies every feature of you. From the dark daggers you glare at him, then to the way your eyes grow mild with pity, to how you bite your lips in thought until he’s sure he’ll recognise you anywhere, just by your looks or voice alone.

“I’m sorry, you booked a dorm room, and no flats are available at the moment” you put on that fake work-voice that instantly makes Yuuji’s face fall. He likes your real voice- mean tone and all- a lot better. 

Post Canon! Yuuji looks like a kicked puppy as he slowly gathers his stuff from your desk. He barely registers the look of surprise on your face, as if you expected him to talk back to you or pester you instead of politely accepting your words the way he does. But he notes how your expression shifts into hesitation and finally determination. 

Post Canon! Yuuji is about to leave when you clear your throat to get his attention. Then, you lean over the desk separating, you two. “You know..” your voice is quiet, clearly not wanting the gathering students in the lobby to hear you, “Not all the apartment keys are gathered yet so there could still come in a cancellation in the next few days... you’re welcome by to check-” 

Post Canon! Yuuji grins widely- the widest he has grinned in many years. “I’ll be here tomorrow!” he declares before being forced to leave your small office as your boss draws your attention away. But Yuuji swears to himself he will be there tomorrow, the day after, and the next day after. As long as it means he can talk to you, if only for a little bit. 

But first,Post Canon! Yuuji needs to figure out what to do if he actually gets a flat through you. Could he bribe Nobara and Megumi to share the costs with him? Maybe post a ‘room for rent’ ad?

Ohh, well, Post Canon! Yuuji decides, with a skip in his step, he’ll cross that bridge when he gets there. After all, he reasons, you have to do some insane things for love, right?! 

Author note: Thank you so so much, @ravester, for asking for a Yuuji-centric post canon hcs I hope this meets your expectations <3

And for the rest of the wonderful readers, what do you think? We have a Megumi one and a Yuuji one, do we need a Nobara one as well?

Main |Raven | Rules and Requests | Masterlist | Cred & Other

All fics are unique works by ©ravencincaide 2024. Do not copy/repost/translate or spread my work(s) without my explicit permission. If you see any of my work(s) reworked/reposted/copied anywhere, please inform me!

[killerlookz]

Your Problem | Heartbeat! AU drabble no.1

part of a series of supplemental drabbles that take place in the heartbeat! au, not intended to be full length fic material- just bits and pieces of lore to expand the universe <3

description: on a night out michael decides to be a major buzzkill and chastise you for drinking too much, joost attempts to talk some sense into him... or at the very least tell him off

warnings: michael (ew), toxic relationship, vomitting, excessive drinking, not proofread, rpf!!! do not continue if uncomfortable

Try as you might- but you simply cannot make sense of the conversation around you. A cacophony of conversation, and loud music- every sound, every syllable pierces your eardrums, the tingling headache you feel creeping up the back of your neck climbs higher, and higher, making you wince.

You had done it again. Drank too much. God on a week night too.

You sit at a table in the back of the darkened bar, head resting in your hands, all of your focus put into keeping yourself upright. Had you really drunk so much more than everyone else here? It had seemed so.

Your eyes widen, suddenly anxious as everyone at the table turns to you, it had seemed you had missed whatever conversation was at hand, one that you were currently the subject of.

"Wha-" You furrow your eyebrows, chin lifting ever so slightly from your palm. Your voice is meek, rich with confusion.

"Oh, no," You hear a familiar chuckle, lazily, your eyes move to the source of the noise, gaze settling to the man who sits diagonally from you. Joost stares at you, a smile on his face, clearly amused at your state, "Someone's had too much fun tonight."

Your eyes narrow, you suppose that someone is you. Though, you can't say you're having much fun anymore.

"I'm f-ine," Your eyes close, hiccuping, a small smile on your face. But soon enough the room feels like its spinning around you, and your eyes are snapping back open, and you force yourself to sit up straight. Its bad.

"Jesus Christ." A much less leart hearted voice comes from beside you, "How much did you have to drink?" You'd know that accusatory tone from anywhere, Michael, your boyfriend, ever the buzzkill.

You shrug, "A lot," Shaking your head, in no state to give an estimate of a figure. "Maybe- uh…. a lot."

"It's every fucking time you go out." You don't even have to look at Michael to know the look on his face, jaw probably tensing, cheeks bitten, so worked up over something so insignificant.

"Its'kay," You're too far gone to even worry about what he's saying, "Calm-hmm down." And you hope for the sake of the rest of the table he does, another argument in front of your friends is not what you needed tonight, after all the whole point of going out was to relieve the stress of your day, nobody, especially you, needed Michael stressing them out more.

"And how do you think you're getting home?" He asks, his voice forceful.

"Walking," You say matter-of-factly, like its a no brainer.

"Yeah right, I'd like to see you stand up without busting your fucking ass right now."

"Wo-hoa-" You giggle, eyes widening, "Language!"

"Are you even listening to me?"

"Loud. And. Clear." You nod. Not really.

"Oh my god." Michael sighs, exasperated, and you can't help but laugh, just a little, at the ways he gets worked up over little things like this. If you had been more sober, you'd let Michael's tenseness get you stressed out too, but right now, it hadn't really phased you.

"Aww, c'mon, lighten up," You pout, placing a hand on his shoulder, "You're like alergic to having a good time." Your words are slurred, far from eloquent, but your point stands.

"Having to babysit you while you're belligerent is not a good time."

"Right," You roll your eyes, turning away from Michael, "God forbid you care about your girlfriend."

"And god forbid you have a little self control for once in your goddamn life."

"'Hey man," Joost interjects, "Calm down." He waves his hand, shaking his head, trying to emphasize how unserious the situation was, "She's fine."

Thank god, at least someone acknowledged how ridiculous Michael was being- unfortunately, not only would Michael never listen to anyone else, he'd especially never listen to Joost.

"Easy to say when you don't have to deal with this all night." Michael is having none of it, angrily gesturing towards you. You furrow your eyebrows, thankful the intoxication at least numbs some of the sensation of what he's hurling at you. Deal with? That's harsh.

"Dude, stop being such a dick, man." He's slightly more confrontational now, telling Michael off, "I've "dealt with" your girlfriend while she's been drunk more times than I can count, she's fine, bro, calm down." Joost throws up his fingers in quotations.

"Going out and getting her wasted doesn't really count as dealing with." Since the moment the two of them had met Michael had gotten some weird idea of Joost in his head, he loathed the fact that he had tattoos and messy hair, hated the way he dressed and the fact that he had chosen music over a "real job". In Michael's eyes, Joost would be nothing else but immature, irresponsible, reckless.

Of course, Michael had utterly oblivious to the many of nights Joost had spent taking care of you after you'd partied a little too hard, even the nights that had occurred while you'd been with Michael. Even post-breakup when you had just needed someone to come home to after a wild night out Joost had been the one to call, much more patient with you than you could ever dream of Michael being.

"Trust me, man, you don't know the half of it." Joost scoffs, unwilling to divulge more than he should, for your sake. If it had been up to Joost, he'd probably have bragged to Michael about all the things the two of you had done together, about all the things that he did that Michael couldn't, "You think all the times you flip out on her and leave after a night out she just miraculously finds her way home? And she just spends the rest of the night alone?"

"Well, then, enlighten me." Michael presses.

"Nah," Joost shakes his head, "Better left unsaid." If Michael knows what's good for him, he'd stop there, shut this conversation down and not continue on. But that couldn't happen, unwilling the accept that anyone could best him, much less Joost, he needed an answer, what was this half of it he was so clearly missing?

"No, no, you opened the door,"

Joost's eyes glance around the table, uncomfortable faces all glaring back at him, Apson, Alanis, Julie, Tantu, You- everyone knows but Michael.

"Look, bro-I'm just saying lighten up, okay, buddy? You're just being a shitty boyfriend." There's some effort to diffuse the situation, wanting to restore the peace at the table, but telling Michael he's a shitty anything is bound to get him even more riled up.

"Oh my god," You mumble, leaning forward, forehead resting in your palm, not ready for whatever is about to come out of Michael's mouth.

"Not wanting a girlfriend with zero self control, who spends most nights getting belligerent with her burnout friends isn't being a shitty boyfriend, I'm trying to get her away from this shit."

"You're just being mean, man." Joost says, matter of factly, "Like, fuck go home."

"Just what I wanted in the first place," Michael almost sounds relieved Joost told him to leave, apparently never having wanted to come to begin with. Yet somehow you doubt Michael's motives, part of you felt as if he had enjoyed hanging out with your friends, if for no other reason then to feel some fake superiority over them. He'd crossed the line tonight though, vague backhanded comments was really the worst Michael had done until now, outright calling your friends burnouts? How could you ever bring him around again?

"Come on," You feel Michael's hand on your shoulder, but there's no affection in his touch, it's merely to get your attention, "We're going home."

You lift your head, the room spinning once again, your head bobs up and down a few times, as you attempt to regain your stability, you don't know if you'll be able to stand up, your sudden movement making your far more nauseous than you had already been. You don't want to be here, but you certainly do not want to go home with Michael.

You're certain all the life has drained from your eyes by now, biting at your cheeks to fight back the uncomfortable, twisting feeling in your stomach.

"Hello," Michael snaps his fingers, "Can you hear me? Home."

You can hear him just fine, but truthfully, you have more important things to worry about now then catering to his every whim, like making sure your dinner doesn't end up on the table.

"Woah," You hear Joost speak once again, concerned, "Hey, alles goede?" You can see in your periphery he begins to stand up from where he's been sitting, probably aware of the sudden sick feeling that's washed over you. You look up at him, taking a deep breath, you squint your eyes tight, not good, you shake your head. He begins to make his way to your side of the table, "C'mon," and you're much more obliged to listen to him than Michael, reaching for the hand he's now stretched out, "Get some air."

Your legs are like gelatin as you attempt to stand up on them, wobbling before you feel Joost's arm around your waist to catch your balance, a bold show in front of Michael after just having told him off. Though you can't care much now, if Michael has anything to say you certainly aren't paying attention- barely able to focus on anything besides getting out of that bar.

Even with your lack of coordination, Joost is able to help you outside with relative ease, obviously no stranger to this. The cool breeze of the night air is nice for a mere second before nausea smacks into you once more, you practically push Joost away from you as your stomach acid burns your throat, closing your eyes tight- finally throwing up the liquor that had been making you so ill.

Truly embarrassing, if you had still had your wits about you you'd feel the full breadth of that shame, but for now, all you could do was sigh, mostly relieved of your nausea.

"Eugh, gross." You mutter, wincing at the taste in your mouth. Joost chuckles from somewhere besides you, clearly amused by your state. "Not funny." You stand up straight, the back of your hand wiping across your bottom lip, surely dragging some of your lipstick with it. You couldn't care less about how you looked now, more so concerned with getting home and some mouthwash.

"It's a little funny."

"Feel s'disgusting." You finally turn towards Joost, who's leaned up against the brick wall outside the bar, disgusting was right, the acidic sting remains on your tongue, the sudden realization of your situation somewhat coming to you, despite your impaired state/

"Awh, mijn arme meisje" He frowns, "Why don't we sit down." Joost cocks his head toward the curb. Usually you would vehemently sitting on the sidewalk, especially in Amsterdam, god only knows what has touched the city's streets, but you're certain if you attempt to stand any longer you'll fall, your brief moment of clarity quickly fading.

"Right," You nod slowly, rocking back and forth while you do so, "Siiit." You take a few, uncoordinated steps forward before Joost is once again grabbing you by the waist, leading you to the curb on the street corner.

"Here," Joost slips his grip from your waist and grabs onto your hand, for stability "Sit down," Your hand remains in his as you plop down on the sloped surface of the curb, his grip strong to keep you from falling over. "Feel better at least?" He asks as he sits next to you.

"Guess'so," You blink as you stare down at your knees, your legs bent in front of you, "Want to brush my teeth."

"I bet," He laughs, "We'll go home soon, ja? Just want to make sure you're good."

"M'fine." You shrug, before wiping at your mouth once more, suddenly insecure about how utterly disgusting you feel. Not just for getting sick, but for seemingly everything else tonight, disgusted by yourself fundamentally. You loathed that Michael had been right about you, that you couldn't handle yourself, that you had no self control, and look where it had led you. You hang your head between your legs, "I'm sorry." You whine.

"Sorry?" Joost asks, confused, "For?"

"I ruined everyone's night." In usual drunk, dramatic fashion tears begin to brim in your eyes. Perhaps you could see the humor Joost seemed to find in your situation if you had been more sober, but for now it had seemed like the end of the world, "I can't control myself, I ruined everyone's night." You repeat.

"Ohh," Joost coos, "No one's night is ruined." He snakes an arm around your shoulder, shuffling closer to you. You fall into his touch, letting your head rest against Joost's chest.

"Don't lie to me," You whimper, tears finally rolling down your cheeks, you sniff, "God everyone must hate me." Dramatic much? Definitely.

"No one hates you." Joost assures, his hand falling to your back, rubbing affectionately.

"My own boyfriend doesn't like me." You nearly choke at the realization, a sob escaping you.

"Michael's just a dick." Joost sighs, "Don't listen to him, hm?" Joost continues to rub soft circles to your back with his palm, tilting down slightly as he does so, pressing a kiss to the side of your head, "We all love you- even when you've had too much to drink."

"I don't deserve you." You sniffle, feeling utterly unworthy of Joost's reassurance.

"Silly girl." He scoffs, giving you another kiss, this one to the crown of your head, "I tell you way often you deserve more."

"Don't feel like I do." You slump down further in Joost's grasp, unable to hold your head up much more, feeling the strain in your neck, "Don't want t'feel like you have to deal with me."

"I like it," Joost's arm returns to holding you around your shoulders, giving you some stability as you rest against him, "Makes me feel like I'm doing something right."

"Stoooop" You mewl, "Make me cry more."

Joost hums, "Sooo sooorryyy," he lengthens each sound, crooning as he extends his sympathy.

His tone makes you giggle slightly, despite the residual tears that fall from your eyes. It had been at least a few weeks since the last argument you had gotten in with Joost, your relationship with Michael stealing all your energy of being mad at someone. If Michael was good for anything perhaps it was, at least for now, repairing your relationship with Joost.

"I need a cigarette," You groan.

"I got you, here, sit up real quick." Joost pats your arm, signaling you to move. And you do, slowly lifting yourself from where you rest against him, letting Joost get to his pocket, pulling out his favorites a pack of Camel blues. You watch as he opens the pack, taking a cigarette out, "Here, open." You part your lips slightly, letting Joost slip the cigarette between them. The small gesture brings a warmth to your cheeks, its intimate, especially as he moves to light the cigarette for you too. His face is close to yours now, tattooed fingers cupping the end of the cigarette, shielding it from the breeze as he lights your cigarette.

You're too busy staring you hardly notice when your cigarette lights, and Joost pulls away.

You inhale, feeling the prickly smoke fill your lungs, a small smile spreading across your lips, despite being a more than merely social smoker, there were few joys in life that could rival a drunk cigarette on a night out. You grab the cigarette, between your pointer and middle finger, turning your head over your shoulder to exhale.

You can hardly stifle the, ugh that leaves your mouth when upon turning around you notice Michael has made his way outside. Your heart sinks, pulling you back to the reality where Michael is your boyfriend and Joost is merely an ex. You wonder how much of everything he's just seen, not much probably, maybe just Joost lighting your cigarette, if that. But part of you just wishes Michael could have seen all of it, the way Joost held you as you cried against him, regardless of how utterly ridiculous the reason, the small kisses he placed to your head, you wish he could have heard Joost's kind, reassuring words.

"Why are you sitting on the ground, it's fucking filthy." Without missing a beat Michael immediately returns the negativity to the night, "Come on, get up, I'm going home."

"Not finished with this," You wave your cigarette in the air, unable to muster the strength to lift up your head to make eye contact with him.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever, just get up I want to leave." Annoyance laced in his words, his hand flailing upward to beckon you up. "I've had enough of this for tonight."

"Just wanna finish my cigaret-"

"I don't care, stand up." Michael interrupts you, more forceful now.

"Dude, she's not gonna get up, just go home man." Joost interjects, "She obviously doesn't feel well let her chill."

"Fine," Michael throws his hands up, "She's your problem tonight. Have fun getting her home."

"I will," Joost hums, his voice matter of fact, "We always have fun."

"Yeah right, good luck." Michael scoffs, walking away. You can hardly feel bad about being called a problem, the relief of Michael finally walking away too great for the moment to be dampened.

Joost laughs slightly, clearly amused by Michael's histrionics,

"No one else I'd rather have as my problem."

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Misjudged

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.2k

Warnings: angst, car accident, getting hurt by car accident, almost dying, minor fluff at the end

Summary: A confrontation at a party sends you racing back home in anger. Dean follows behind you and watches the unthinkable happen. Now it’s up to him to save you.

Square Filled: enemies to lovers (2021) for @spndeanbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are greatly appreciated <3

x

Normally, you love a good party. You love getting loose and forgetting what a shitty week you’ve had, but tonight is different. You’re on a mission and you’re not going to stop until you get what you want. Luna called you twenty minutes ago crying because she wanted to get picked up, and you immediately rushed over at the thought that someone hurt your little sister. She’s newly eighteen but she shouldn’t have been at this party in the first place. She’s too nice and naive for her own good, so you do your best to look out for her.

Too many bodies litter the living room holding homemade drinks and joints, causing the room to stink of stale marijuana.

“Luna!!”

There's no point in yelling when the music is enough to deafen a person, but you still try in hopes she’s close enough to hear you. Once you get past the mosh pit, the room becomes more open with fewer people. On the other side of the room is one person who makes your blood boil in rage.

Dean Winchester.

Of course, he’d be here. Suddenly, the thought of Dean making your sister cry is the only thing you can think about so you stalk over to him. He’s playing pool against his friends and winning, but not for long. You swipe your hand over the pool table, messing up the balls and Dean’s shot.

“Hey!” Dean whips his head to face the culprit and smirks when he realizes it’s you. “Oh, hey, sweetheart. Come to play?”

You bring your open palm back and slap Dean across the face. His friends go still with shock, and Dean moves his jaw back and forth as he processes what just happened.

“How dare you bring Luna here after I told you not to!”

Dean sets his pool cue on the table but otherwise doesn’t react to you slapping him.

“How do you know it was me who brought her here?”

“You’re our neighbor, Dean. She heard you talking about the party and you offered to bring her here.”

“She wanted to come here, Y/N. I was already on my way when she asked me to drive her. I didn’t see the big deal.”

“The big deal is that this party is full of drugs and alcohol and men with granny hands.”

“Last I checked, she’s eighteen. She can think for herself.”

“Last I checked, she’s my family, not yours. Stay out of my goddamn life and out of my business. You don’t see me going to your house and bringing Sam here.”

Dean tips his head back and laughs. “Good luck trying to get Sam over here. This isn’t really his scene.”

“I don’t care. Don’t ever go near Luna again.”

“Damn, man, you need to have a drink. Unwind,” one of Dean’s friends comments. 

You lunge toward his friend but Dean wraps his arms around your waist to prevent you from attacking. For a split second, you like having his arms around you. They feel strong and safe but then reality sets in and you push Dean off you.

“Let go of me. Where is Luna?”

“I don’t know. It's a big party.” Dean sees the glare on your face and fights back a smirk. “Relax. I saw her on the phone with you so I told Cas to give her a ride home.”

“Oh. Good.”

Castiel is a good guy so you’re relaxed at the thought of Luna being in his care. It’s the only part of Dean you tolerate. Castiel keeps him in check. With that, you turn on your heels and start to head toward the front door. Dean abandons his pool game to chase after you.

“Why don’t you stay?”

“Over my dead fucking body.”

You push through the crowd and leave out the front door. The ground crunches underneath your feet from how crispy the ice makes the grass. You press the button on your car which makes it unlock, and you sigh when you hear Dean still chasing after you.

“Wait, Y/N!”

“Leave me alone, Dean. Go away.”

“I don’t get why you hate me so much. What did I ever do to you?”

You spin on your heels to face him and he stops right before he collides with you.

“Hate you? No, I don’t hate you. You piss me the fuck off. Do you really think you can flash that smile of yours and call me sweetheart, and I’ll forget what an arrogant bastard you are? Not going to happen.” You open your car door. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going home.”

“Wait. Let me drive you. It’s icy out there.”

“That’s nice of you to care, but I don’t need you, Dean.”

You get into your car and turn it on. Dean curses when you back out of the crowded driveway and start to drive away. What kind of friend man would he be if he let you drive off into the icy night?

Dean curses when he sees your tail lights disappearing around the corner, and he runs over to his shiny black Impala that he often catches you checking out. Wherever he goes, it’s a chick magnet but he only wants one chick in there.

You.

He leaves the party and follows you down the road, stepping on the pedal to keep up with you. He wouldn’t forgive himself if something happened while driving home, and he didn’t know about it.

Yes, the roads are icy and it’s dark in these mountains and your headlights don’t really work well, but you’re doing fine. There isn’t any ice that you can see so as long as you continue at the speed you’re at, you should get home safely.

Key word: should.

Your phone rings but instead of taking your eyes off the road to answer it, you blindly swipe the screen until the call connects. Before you can say anything, Dean’s deep voice comes through the phone.

“Slow the fuck down, Y/N.”

You look in the rearview mirror and see the sleek headlights belonging to the Impala right behind you. For some reason, you’re in a mischievous mood that wants to piss him off. 

“You want me to slow down?”

Instead of doing what he wants, you press down the gas pedal.

“Y/N—”

“I know how to drive, Dean. I’ve been doing it since I was sixteen.”

“You’re going to fucking crash. Slow down.”

“Bite me,” you growl and hang up on him.

Just to piss him off, you go faster on the slippery mountain roads. You’re not going to admit this to Dean, but you’re kind of scared. With going downhill, you’re finding it harder to slow down. Your brakes work but the ice on the roads makes it hard for your tires to grip anything. Dean would only rub it in your face that he was right and you don’t want to hear it.

You’ve driven these roads all your life in worse conditions, but there’s something about this night that makes it more dangerous. The news has been warning residents of black ice on the roads, more so in the mountains than anywhere else.

Dean keeps a steady distance behind you which is a comfort because if something happens to you, at least you’ll be found. You press on the brakes only slightly but that causes your tires to swerve, and you grip the steering wheel with a deathly grip.

The deadliest part of black ice is that you don’t know you’ve hit it until it’s too late, and it’s too late for you. Your car starts skidding on the icy roads, and you try your best to get out of it by turning your wheel toward the direction the car is going in. That doesn’t seem to help, and your eyes widen when your headlights catch something.

A tree. You’re not wearing your seatbelt.

In the blink of a second, the front of your car smashes into the thick tree trunk, causing it to spin out of control. The side of your head smacks against the hard ridge of the window, and you lose your grip on the steering wheel as the car skids closer and closer to the cliff’s edge. You press down on the brake as hard as you can but that doesn’t seem to help.

Either you’re going to die by falling off the cliff or by plunging into the icy waters below. Your car comes to a stop right before you fall off the cliff’s edge, but the front half of the car is teetering over the edge. One false move and you're going to go over. You’re still-shocked and gripping the steering wheel with a deathly grip, afraid to let go. Tears roll down your cheek that mix with the blood coming from your forehead. Silence and then you hear his voice.

“Y/N?”

“Dean?” you cry.

“I’m right here, sweetheart.”

“I’m so scared,” you whimper.

“I’m right here. I’m not going to let you fall.” The back window was shattered when it hit the tree, so he is able to climb inside if he wanted to. “Can you get your seatbelt off?”

“I’m not wearing one.”

“Fuck. Okay, when I get you out, we’re going to have a serious conversation about proper car etiquette.”

The car starts to spin but Dean doesn’t say anything about it which makes you realize it’s your vision that’s spinning. Your head throbs in pain and black spots enter your vision.

“Dean, I hit my head. It hurts.”

“I know, sweetheart. I need you to stay awake for me, okay? Can you turn around?” With slow movements, you look back at Dean. He doesn’t shine the flashlight directly on your face but he can see the river of blood on your face. He’s fucking scared but if he starts to show it, you’ll start to panic. “I’m right here.”

Dean removes his jacket and lays it over the edge of the window where it broke to prevent glass from sticking to his skin. He keeps one leg on the ground and puts his other leg inside the car to get closer to you. He leans in as far as he can and stretches his hand out to you.

“Grab my hand and I’ll pull you out.”

“What if I fall over?”

“I won’t let that happen.”

Tears spring to your eyes at the thought of never seeing your family again. “Please tell my mom I love her. Tell Luna that too. Tell her I’m sorry.”

“Y/N, you’re going to be fine. Just grab my hand.”

“I’m scared,” you cry.

“I know you are but I need you to be brave right now, okay?” You nod shakily. “I can’t go any further so you’re going to have to climb over the seat. No sudden movements.”

You slowly rise and put both feet on the clothed seat. You grab the back of the seat and turn to Dean who is patient and calm. You know he’s freaking out so you appreciate him keeping a calm head. You sling your leg through the small gap over the center console and the car starts to sway lightly. You halt your movements and calm down when the car doesn’t fall over the edge.

You slowly lift your other leg over the center console but you step on one of your dogs’ toys that squeaks. Your foot slips and you slam into the back of the driver’s seat. The car immediately tips over and you jump to grab Dean’s hand. He pulls you out of the car just as it falls over the edge. You gasp and clutch onto his hand with a death grip because not only did the car go over the edge, but you did as well.

Dean is the only thing keeping you from certain death.

Dean uses his God-given strength and pulls you up from the edge and onto the safety of solid ground. You fall into his arms and cry, the adrenaline already starting to wear off.

“You’re okay,” Dean mutters. He strokes your hair to not only calm you but to calm himself. “You’re okay.” You pull away from him and he finally can see the damage done to your head. “You’re bleeding.”

“You saved me.”

He tucks a strand of bloody hair behind your ear. “I’ll always save you.”

You look down at his lips. Maybe it’s because of what just happened or maybe it’s because your emotions are all out of wack but you’re seeing Dean in a new light. As much as he wants to kiss you, you have more pressing matters.

“I’m not a doctor and you need to get that checked out. Come on.” He helps you to your feet and wraps a strong arm around you. “I’ll call your parents from the car.”

What would you have done if Dean didn’t follow you? How long would you have been out here for? Would you have died? He could have let you go off that cliff but he didn’t. Maybe you’ve misjudged him. Maybe, just maybe, he’s not as bad as you make him out to be.

x

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[xxsp3llb0undxx]

The Pack Imprint

Fem!Reader x Uley Pack {2.9k}

Requested - Unknown

DO NOT POST MY WORK TO OTHER SITES OR CLAIM AS YOUR OWN. I DO NOT OWN THE CHARACTERS OF TWILIGHT.

Summary: Reader is Bella Swan's neighbour, having lived beside the Swan's her whole life. The once close pair, now hate each other all because of the group of shifters that reside in the rainy state of Forks, Washington.

WARNINGS: BELLA SLANDER // SWEARING // NOT PROOF READ

Forks, Washington - February 19th 2005

It had been a month since Bella came back to town, she was the centre of the school gossip, everyone trying to either be her friend or get a date with her. All but one person - Y/n L/n. Bella and Y/n grew up together, they were childhood friends along side Jacob Black. But after her parents divorced and she went to live with her mom, Bella had grown distant with the young girl she once saw as a sister. Two letters a week turned into one a month, which then turned into nothing. Y/n was heartbroken, her best friend had up and left. Jacob tried to be around more often but with school on the res and his dad nagging at him to help around the house, he couldn't fit Y/n into his schedule. Which in turn, made the pair grown apart from each other as well. That was until she came back.

The last month in Forks had been hell. Everywhere Y/n went, whispers about the Swan girl being back was all she heard. Every time she would enter through the school door the chatter about her once best friend would swarm through the halls, Y/n had enough. She was sick and tired of always hearing about her, Bella this and Bella that - it was giving her a headache. Jessica and Angela had gave Y/n's seat at the lunch table away to Bella, that was until she started sitting with the Cullens. It was infuriating, she's been back a month and she's already pining after the only Cullen available, it was pathetic. Bella was like a plague coming to ruin Y/n's life all over again, but she wouldn't allow it to affect her.

When lunch came around, Y/n found an empty table near the back of the cafeteria. Jessica and Angela tried to invite her back to their table but all they were met with was Y/n's middle finger held up in front of their faces, the two girls turned and walked away but not without Jessica muttering a not so quiet 'bitch' under her breath. Y/n had enough of Jessica's shit; the sly things she'd say about everyone, how she would point out peoples insecurities and worst of all - how she victimised herself all the goddamn time. Y/n had got up out of her seat, the screech from the metal legs dragging against the floor grabbed the attention of everyone in the cafeteria. "Hey Jess?" Before the girl could respond, Y/n had grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked her back - the scream she let out was loud, almost deafening the Cullens; who were on the other side of the cafeteria. "Don't you ever call me a bitch again, do you hear me? I'm sick and tired of your bullshit. You just never learn to fucking shut up." With that said, Y/n had let go of her and walked out the double doors leading into the parking lot of the school.

The Cullens had watched the whole thing unfold, Bella clinging onto Edward's arm saying she was scared. Emmett had the biggest grin on his face, he was enjoying himself too much, quiet little Y/n had turned out to be a badass and Emmett loved it. Rose had to stop her mate from joining in, a firm grip on his bicep - enough to hurt anyone that wasn't a vampire. Alice, knowing what would happen, had excused herself before the fight broke out. She wanted to see if Y/n was alright, so the pixie like vampire had decided to wait beside Y/n's car, hoping she would show up soon. But she didn't, at least not for awhile. Alice had gotten tired of waiting, she turned to leave when she heard the car door behind her shut with a soft click. Before she could do anything, the car had reversed and turned out the parking lot - heading as far away from the gates of Forks Highschool.

March 5th 2005

It had been at least a week since the whole incident between Y/n and Jessica. No one had seen or heard off Y/n, people had started to spread rumours around saying she was expelled or she had ran away after what she had done but none of it was true, only no one would really know the truth at least not yet. Bella had rang Jacob after it had turned into two weeks of not seeing Y/n, at first the young wolf sounded unfazed, like he didn't care but in truth, it was all an act. He knew about what had happened, he heard it straight from the horses mouth the day it all occurred. Y/n had drove all the way to Jacob's house, he was in the garage when he head the screech of tires pulling up in front of his house. He had poked his head out the garage door to see who it was, not really in the mood for anyone to come rushing into his house when he was busy. The sight of a distraught Y/n had panicked the poor boy, he rushed over to her scanning her body for any signs of injury but he turned up with nothing. Y/n was on the verge of tears, he could hear her heart hammering in her chest. Jacob brought her in to his arms, the warmth radiating off of him helped calm the girl down a little though she was still shaking.

Y/n had brought Jacob up to date with what had happened, he was proud of her for finally standing up to Jessica but he was also upset that it had to get to this point for Y/n to finally step up and confront her about it. Y/n had stayed with Jacob and his dad for the last couple weeks, begging them to not send her back there. A couple weeks had then turned into a month, Jacob had started to ignore everyone and started to hang out with Sam Uley and his little pack of mutts. Y/n wasn't having it, she was sick and tired of waiting for Jacob to come home but he never did, no matter how many times Y/n had asked Billy where Jacob had disappeared to he never told her. She waited for as long as she could until it was too much, she had trekked all the way over to Sam's place; her hands clenched and face red hot with anger. She was going to get her answers one way or another.

When Y/n had made it to Sam's house, Bella just so happened to be there too. Her fiery orange truck parked in the drive. There was a indescribable feeling in the pit of Y/n's stomach, a mixture between anxiety and full blown hatred. She stomped her way over to the group, Sam was telling Bella to leave but she wasn't having any of it, like always. Paul was the first to notice Y/n, her h/l h/c whipping around with the wind. Before he could tell Sam she was here, Bella had shouted at him. "What did you do to him? He didn't want this. He just up and left without telling me anything because he's scared of you." Paul had laughed at Bella, Jacob wasn't scared of anyone and yet she still thought that. Paul was calm until Bella had gone and slapped him across the face, she clutched her hand to her chest, it was surely broken after that hit. Paul had started to shake violently, Sam had pushed Bella back telling her to back away whilst simultaneously trying to get Paul to calm down. Y/n had the dumbest idea ever, we all must admit she's not the smartest. She had slowly started to step towards Paul right as he had shifted.

Bella's screaming could be heard but that didn't bother Y/n, what did though was the huge dark silver furred wolf right in front of her. It's teeth bared, snarling at her. Though, she felt no fear. Her hand slowly reached up and gently lay upon it's muzzle. The wolf huffed, he wasn't entirely trusting the girl in front of him but he also felt no fear towards her. He looked into her e/c and everything stilled. The noise around him had calmed, all he could focus on was her. Paul felt like the centre of the earth had shifted, like he was finally where he was meant to be. Before he knew it, he had shifted back. Y/n's body flush against his own, protecting him from the eyes around them. Soon enough, a blanket had been given to him to cover up until he was able to make it back to the house and put a new set of clothes on. Paul was confused, how was he able to imprint on Y/n when he had already imprinted on Rachel, Jacob's sister?

After the events of earlier today, Bella had told Jacob to never speak to her again and she left, just like that. Jacob was sat on the steps of Sam's porch, he just wanted to be alone but he knew that was impossible. Jacob felt a shift of weight beside him, he turned his head and saw Y/n wrapped up in one of Emily's blankets, she must've given Y/n the blanket to stay warm. Jacob threw his arm over the smaller girl, the warm his body provided her, soothed the chill that made a home in her bones. "You know, Bella doesn't deserve you Jake. You're too good for her." They both sat there in silence for awhile, the soft chime of the trees rustling in the wind settling in to the comfortable silence around them. The door to Sam's house opened, revealing the older male. "Come inside, we're having a pack meeting." The pair looked at each other before Jacob got up and walked inside, leaving Y/n to sit on her own to watch the trees dance around in the soft breeze.

Inside Sam's house, the pack was all sat around in his living room. Embry, Paul, Jared and Quil were sat on the sofa, Leah and Seth took up the two arm chairs while Sam and Jacob were stood; everyone waiting for Sam to start the meeting. "We all witnessed what happened between Paul and Y/n earlier, Paul imprinted for the second time. What we need to figure out is why that happened." All eyes were on Paul, he felt smug about having two imprintee's but it felt wrong, as if he were betraying Rachel. The meeting had gone on for the last hour, the pack had decided to try and see if they would all imprint or if it was only Paul to be lucky enough to have two imprintee's. The pack had left the house, Y/n completely unaware of what was about to happen. Jacob held his hand out to Y/n, pulling her up on her feet and leading her over to the small field where Paul had initially shifted. "I need you to be as calm as possible, okay? We need to see if what happened to Paul earlier will happen to all of us, I promise I will explain it all later." Y/n only nodded her head, giving Jacob the all clear.

The pack had lined up beside each other, Paul was the first to shift. He felt all the feelings from earlier flood back, his heart pounded as he stepped closer to Y/n. She reached out to run her fingers through this fur, earning a soft grunt from the silver wolf. Next was Embry, he was scared to look up at Y/n, he felt sick to his stomach; what if he didn't imprint? Y/n took careful steps to Embry, his fur was gray with black spots; he was slightly smaller than Paul. Y/n crouched down to be eye level with the gray wolf, his eye's locked with hers and it was like his whole body was set alight. Slight tingles coursed through his bones, he felt complete. Embry nuzzled into Y/n, small giggles erupted from the girl, the sound was like wind chimes clashing together. Embry left with Paul to shift back and change back into their clothes. Quil and Jared were next, Quil's wolf had chocolate brown fur while Jared had light brown fur with black markings around his eyes. The pair had imprinted instantly, their tails wagging behind them as they accepted the affection off their imprintee. Seth had imprinted fairly easy, though he was still scared. The sandy brown furred wolf cowered at the attention of his imprint, too overwhelmed by the feelings bubbling inside him. The young wolf left as quickly as possible, wanting to shift back and put this behind him for now.

Leah imprinted soon after Seth, she finally knew what it was like to have someone meant for her. The tingling coursing through her body was welcomed, Leah stayed beside Y/n refusing to leave the girls side. She would not leave her imprint, not now - not ever. Jacob and Sam were the only ones left, they had decided to shift at the same time, afraid of being rejected. Sam was a black furred wolf, he was like a shadow while Jacob was a rusty brown colour, almost like Seth. Sam was the first to look up at Y/n, her e/c stared straight back at him. His heart was pounding in his ears, he didn't feel anything at first. He knew what it was like to imprint and yet, he felt nothing. Sam was about to give up and just walk away, until Y/n sat in front of him and ran her fingers through his fur, an electric shot went straight though him. Images flashed behind his eyes, growing old with her, having a family of their own, loving her till his very last breath. Sam now had two imprintee's, what was he going to tell Emily? The black furred wolf walked off towards the house, his ears pinned against his head.

Jacob still had his head pointed down, his eyes trained on the dirt under his paws. "Jake? Look at me, please." Her voice was soft, almost a whisper. Jacob listed his head, his pupils blew as images of them laughing together, cooking dinner together, messing around with the pack flashed before his eyes. It was like his ears were flooded with water, he knew he would do anything, be anything for her. His whole world was centred around Y/n and what their life would be like together. A blanket of warmth wrapped itself around his heart, he felt content knowing his best friend would be his forever.

Once everyone had shifted back and back in their clothes, they had all settled in to the living room. Y/n sat on the sofa, squished between Jacob and Leah, while Seth sat in front of her on the floor; his back pressed against her legs. Paul and Jared were fighting over what to watch, while Quil and Embry made popcorn for everyone. Sam was the only one missing, he was sat in his shared bedroom with Emily. They were arguing, everyone could hear it. "Is it my fault? Them fighting, I mean." Y/n felt guilty, she didn't want to tear apart Sam's relationship, she would gladly show herself out if it wasn't for Jacob and Leah physically holding her in place. Paul was the first to say anything, he had crouched in front of the sofa, his hand linked with hers. "Hey.. it's not your fault doll face, no one could've seen this happening. You are our imprint, you are what matters the most to us, it could never be your fault, okay?" Paul kissed Y/n's knuckles, his lips ever so lightly grazing her skin. She sniffled slightly as she nodded her head. Y/n couldn't have been more happy to have the pack, she finally felt loved and included for once. The rest of the night consisted of watching random movies and eating too much junk, Y/n had passed out on Leah's shoulder after the second movie had started. She was soon followed by the rest of the pack, all spread out in the living room. Seth cuddling into Y/n's leg, Jacob flung half on Y/n while Leah was now hanging off the sofa, Paul laying beside Seth on the floor; his head on Seth's arm. Jared and Embry passed out on the arm chairs, their bodies thrown across them like they were dolls tossed to the side. Quil was the only normal one out the bunch, he was cuddled into a blanket away from everyone else, a pillow under his head as he snored.

Y/n had made a family for life, she would not give this up for anything.

[barnxyes]

moth to a flame - dark mob andy barber x fem actress reader | Chapter 2

- Summary: You have captivated the boss’ heart much to your obliviousness.

Warning(s): Kidnapping, mentions of blood, guns, mentions of robbery, underground illegal activities.

WC: 3.3k

AN: Ohhhhhhh my goodness, I’m so sorry I’ve been gone for so long and left y’all without an update. Life has been… well life. I hope you enjoy this chapter and hope you let me know what you think. I’m not really sure where I’m going with this AU, so I’m open to what you guys would want to see!! Truly! Let me know, my inbox is always open!!

You awoke with a gasp as your chest fluttered with the rapid beating of your frightened heart. The sun shone brightly outside the bedroom you resided in, a bed with silk amber sheets below your bottom as you studied your surroundings.

It definitely wasn’t what you were expecting: a dark and putrid basement that came from your nightmares. No, the room you resided in was pristine, with smooth, light gray walls and curtains that draped over the palladian windows overlooking the vast estate that met your eye.

There were men standing at every corner of the vast green field.

You stood, noticing that your shoes were missing, but thankfully, your clothes were intact - wrinkly, but intact.

There was a wooden vanity in the corner of the room and as you started to search, you were met with makeup brushes, perfumes, jewelry, all that you could think of to use if one was getting ready for an important day.

You almost missed the silk dress hanging from a golden hanger, black and flowing, with a low v-line, and heels to match.

“What the fuck.” You breathed, dragging a hand down your hair in distress.

Suddenly, the lock turned, and in walked an older woman, dressed in a traditional housekeeping dress, fitted to her body with her hair done in an updo. Her eyes widened slightly, maybe from recognition, or from surprise that you had awakened, but as soon as she set her eyes on you, she shut the door and locked it, welcoming herself inside the predicament you were in.

“What - what is this? What the fuck is going on lady?”

The woman smiled, wringing her hands before herself before making her way to you, and taking a seat on the corner of the bed. “My lady, it is a pleasure to meet your acquaintance, I am Nora, and I will be assisting you today.” She started, with a thick English accent and blue eyes that captured yours. “Come, we must get you ready to meet Mr. Barber.”

She stood, getting too close for comfort and almost taking a hold of your hair, but you were quick and pulled yourself back. “I think not? I was brought here against my goddamn will, so tell me what the fuck is going on!”

Nora smiled once again and sighed. “Right, I believe I should have started from the beginning. I promise you, darling, you are as safe as can be, and as soon as we get finished here, you will go to dinner and go home, back to your people.”

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

“Well, my lady, I suppose you will just have to take my word for it. Please, we must not keep him waiting, we truly do not mean you any harm, but Mr. Barber is an inpatient man. Come, let’s start.”

It seemed as if time was on Nora's side because as soon as she aided you in dressing and styling your hair, you were done within minutes. She gave you a comforting smile as she unlocked the door and instructed you to follow her.

The heels on your feet clanged against the marble floor as you made your way into the foyer, red rose petals scattered around the floor with large bouquet vases aligned alongside the wall.

“Welcome, make yourself at home, my lady. Mr. Barber will be here shortly. In the meantime, he left this here for you.” In the center of the foyer, a round table sat, an envelope and a velvet blue box in the middle as a flute of champagne awaited you. “We were made aware that this is your favorite.”

You nodded, mumbling in amazement when you took a hold of the velvet box, the weight making you place it on the table where it sat. Gasping at what lay inside the box: a tremendously beautiful necklace, a grayish sapphire blue diamond surrounded with a halo of sixteen smaller white stones.

The chain seemed to follow with similar stones, only bigger and with square cuts and ovals.

Its beauty was almost indescribable.

“Le bleu de France.” Nora announced.

“The Hope Diamond.” You muttered, taken aback by such surprise. “Isn’t this worth millions of dollars?” Though the career as an actress gave you a fortune, you could not imagine spending such a big amount of money on a necklace, even more so gifting it to a random person you’ve never even met.

“I believe so.” She smiled. “Come, we must sit you for dinner.”

With a shaking leg, you studied the dining room, messing with the silverware whilst doing so. “Mr. Barber will be here shortly, madam.” Sensing your uncomfortableness from the lengthy wait, she simmered. “Can I get you anything?”

Speak of the devil, and he shall appear.

Before you, the epitome of a gorgeous man walked in, tall and lean. You blinked, taken aback by his appearance, dark blue suit fit on his body. He offered his hand. “Andrew Barber, it’s a pleasure. Forgive me for the wait. I had things to take care of.”

He seemed so incredibly familiar, like if he was someone known, hidden in the back of your mind.

You stared causing the gentleman to chuckle lowly as he kissed your knuckles, gently caressing the side with his thumb. You smiled of course, always set to perfect first impressions, ignoring the dollop of what seemed to be blood on his white dress shirt, almost hidden behind his blazer.

Andrew Barber

You were so incredibly fucked.

“May I just say, you are much more stunning in person.” He complimented, taking a step back to study you whole. “The cameras truly don’t make such a beautiful woman justice.”

You chuckled, hiding the fear that desperately wanted to make herself known by either crying on the spot or running for dear life. But as a professional, you smiled like you were taught to do so, wide with a charm that made people swoon over, and responded with what he clearly wanted to hear. “Don’t worry.” You replied. “I understand what having a busy life is like, and thank you. I can say the same thing about you. You have a beautiful home, sir.”

“Please, -” like a true and handsome gentleman, he pulled the chair, gesturing with his hand for you to take a seat on the cushion. When he pushed it inside, he made his way to the other end of the table, unbuttoning his blazer to make himself more comfortable. “Call me Andy.” Without losing a beat he continued. “I apologize for the way you were… brought here, but if I hadn’t done it, I’m afraid we’d never meet, and I’ve been wanting to meet you, for the longest it seems. I assume you know who I am?”

Who wouldn’t?

And you wanted nothing more than to get the hell out of there as soon as possible, because men like Andy Barber had no soul, but only the need to corrupt, and a desperate need to obtain power. Though you have never met a man with his status, people talked, and half of the time, they were right.

You gulped in dread and yet your face held a smile, nodding your head. You had no doubt that if you talked, you wouldn't be able to do so again. “Of course sir - Andy. I’ve - I’ve caught a glimpse or two of you on the news.”

“The news.” He scoffed. “They do nothing, but spill lies as I understand you agree, no?”

“Of course. Rumors could ruin one’s reputation.”

“Well, I couldn’t agree more.”

Andy Barber had been caught once.

Just once after evading law enforcement, the FBI, the DEA, you name it. Inside the underworld, he was one of the big ones, famous for the stubborn ongoing battle between the enforcement and his underworld that he carried such pride for.

He was stuck inside a prison for a year or two before he cut loose, never to be seen again… until now. People assumed he’d gone to Europe, maybe even Asia, but there was no one way one could verify. He simply disappeared.

You seemed to recall seeing him on the news in passing, but never paid much attention. He was just another nobody.

Until now.

“I believe you and I have a lot in common. I suspect my caretaker, Nora, welcomed you with a present. Did you like it? I heard that you’re a big enthusiast for the Titanic. I know it’s not the same, but I assume it’s a substitute, no? I thought nothing better than to give the diamond to the woman who, well - who has caught my attention.”

The man who took you, Curtis as you learned, walked in with a smirk on his face, chewing gum and winking your way before he handed the black velvet box to Andy.

“My lady.” He whispered, patting Andy in the back and making his way back to where he came from.

“May I?” Andy stood, striding your way before you could utter a word. But you figured you’d give him what he wished for, gathering your hair in your hand.

With a click, he buttoned the necklace, angling his body lower to allow him the perfect angle of your neck. You shuttered, immediately regretting turning your head because his face was just next to yours. His blue eyes seemed to look through your very soul, not breaking eye contact until finally he moved, clasping the heavy necklace on.

His hands were warm on your skin as he took it upon himself to grab your hair, letting it fall against your back. “How is it, is it heavy?” He questioned, now standing tall before you. It was there that you noticed the holster at his side, but his gun was nowhere in sight.

“A bit.” You replied, the diamond cold to the touch. “Thank you very much. It’s very thoughtful of you. But, I cannot help to ask… was this not in a museum?”

Andy smirked and shrugged, his long legs striding towards his seat. “Was it? I can’t seem to recall.”

You breathed in a laugh, astonished by his disregard, but yet not surprised. He was known for taking what he wanted, indifferent to consequences because he was simply untouchable.

Though you were a good actress - he’d give you that, Andy saw right through the facade, sensing the uncomfortableness that you felt. “I assure you, you are as safe as you can be here. Perhaps even more than with your security team. Believe me, I have not had an attempt in years.”

Clearing your throat, you spoke. “By attempt you mean… on your life… right?”

“I would say so, yes.”

Taking a deep breath then sighing, you smiled, relieved when two women arrived, rolling a small, but fancy food cart. With a small thank you, they bowed after gently placing the food on their table, departing from the room.

“Andy, if I may… where is my security team?”

Where was Ari?

Was he even alive?

Did Curtis kill him?

Ari’s voice calling out for you stuck to your mind, clinging to you with a vice. You knew with no doubt he fought tooth and nail to get to you. But he was outnumbered, and although Ari stood tall and did his cardio like his life depended on it, you knew he was no match to the numbers he stood against.

Andy smiled, uncorking a wine bottle in his hands. “Mr. Levinson and your companion are well, I promise.”

Though he hid it, the sound of another man’s name on your beautiful mouth made him clench his jaw in anger. Couldn’t you see what you meant to him?

“Please, how’s the food?”

With a gulp of the deliciousness that attacked your taste buds, you nodded, humming. “It’s delicious. Thank you.”

“Nora is a wonderful cook. I’m sure you’ll grow to love it just as much as I have. Please, enjoy.”

Dinner was possibly the most awkward situation you have ever encountered. He’d eat and steal glimpses of you, slowly chewing. He knew your heart was beating a mile a minute and he didn’t blame you. Andy knew exactly how and what you were feeling, so he tried to make you feel better, ease the tension with small talk. “So, can I just say I enjoyed your previous project, Kingdom Come. I’m not one to have time to watch such things, but I truly enjoyed the movie. Congratulations.”

“Oh,” you chuckled slightly, “thank you.” Andrew Barber, enjoying a romcom movie, you never thought you’d see the day. It was humorous. “Thank you, Andy. What - what do you usually do on your days… off? I mean I assume you do have a free day here and there?”

He shrugged, gulping the last piece of his meal. “Here and there. It’s difficult to find time for myself and when I do, I tend to sleep most of the time… this…business is very tiring. What about you? Do you enjoy your days off?”

“Well,” you shrugged, “I don’t really think a day off really is one. When I’m not filming, I’m either in meetings or press conferences, so I guess you and I have a few things in common.”

Andy smiled and nodded, raising his glass. “I will toast to you, to hopefully have an actual day off. You need your rest and well, I believe I do too.”

You followed, your charm bracelet chiming when it clanged against the glass. “To a day off.”

After dinner, he surprised you with a walk outside his home, showing you his extensive collection of classic cars, a hobby that he favored. Who would’ve thought, the big bad monster having a childlike enthusiasm for materialistic things.

Suddenly, you were fearful when he asked for your permission to be blindfolded by a red and silky bandanna. How could you say no? You were trapped, with nowhere to go despite the freedom he felt he was providing you with. You simply nodded, as his warmth was against your back, placing your hair back into place once your eyes were covered by the damned thing.

You thought he was at his knees, placing a sock over your bare feet once he took off the heels at your feet, placing what you felt a set of casual shoes on.

Then he guided you and took your hands against his own. “Almost there, I promise.”

Was this it? Was he now going to make you kneel and put a bullet inside your head?

After a few more seconds of walking, he stood to a stop, letting you free and unwrapping the bandana from your head.

The gasp you sprung was almost silent, enough for Andy to hear and chuckle with content. As soon as that thing was taken off from your sight, a multitude of colors blinded you whole with booming sounds coming from the multiple rides. There were a few food posts aligned with yellow tarps covering the small makeshift buildings as well as the games you always dreamt of playing but never got the chance to do so.

He had brought a fair to you.

Your own little amusement park.

“I know it’s not the same thing, but I heard that you’ve never gone to a fair and always wished to do so. Well, here it is. I believe this might be your day off.”

This must’ve cost him a fortune. He had brought this to his own home.

“I - I don’t know what to say.” You muttered, entranced with the sight before you.

Growing up, fun was truly never in your vocabulary. You never did what common children did, creating milestones, middle school drama, graduating high school, going off to college, etc. No, the only life you knew was behind a camera, filming your every move without consent until you were old enough to say no. But even then, it was all you knew what to do. And there was no point in ever starting again.

“You don’t have to say anything, sweetheart. Come. Let’s go have fun.” He offered his hand and with hesitation, you eyed it before grasping it, and allowing him to take the lead.

You don’t think he ever had fun. He was like a child, beaming brightly when you rode the rides that you voiced your concern about. Andy simply shrugged and said, “What’s life without a little risk?”

Of course, he would say that.

After filling your bellies with fried ice cream and funnel cakes, the sky started to dim and you hoped that this was the end of your meeting because despite the slight enjoyment you encountered, this wasn’t your home and oh, how you craved home.

It seemed your wishes were answered. Andy to your surprise wrapped an arm around your waist casually, as you both made your way to his home. You eyed him and he sent you a small smile. You couldn’t help but to look down, pretending not to see.

“I’m afraid it’s time to say goodbye.”

You mentally sighed in relief, nodding his way. “Of course. Thank you for having me. I enjoyed my time with you.”

“I hope that you won’t mind me covering your eyes once again. Would you?”

You gulped. Seeing your hesitation, Andy chuckled. “I give you my word that you’ll be home safe and sound. This is for your safety, more so than mine.”

“Okay.”

Once the blindfold covered your eyes, you could feel his warm hands as they cupped your cheeks as his warm lips met your cheek. “Thank you for this.” He whispered.

And taken once again, he guided you and helped you get inside in one of his vehicles, you assumed. You weren’t sure how long you were being driven to, but the car stopped, and someone was helping you get out.

Disoriented, you stumbled when your name was called. “Ari?” Immediately taking the blindfold off of your eyes, you ran to your bodyguard and embraced him tightly.

“Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” Ari questioned, his brows furrowed in a way you have never seen him before. “I’m fine, he didn’t hurt me I just -“ you gulped, watching Andy’s men get into their cars and haul ass, maybe afraid that they would be followed.

“He just wanted to have dinner with me.”

-

Thank you for your time. Believe me when I say that I have not enjoyed someone’s company in years the way I have with you. It's a shame that it had to end quickly. I trust that our meeting will remain private, just between us both. I know that if this ever comes to light, your career will be at stake. We wouldn’t want that.

It shall be our dirty little secret. You have a wonderful home.

All the best wishes to you, beautiful.

AB

You weren’t sure why you were crying. He didn’t hurt you, didn’t do anything that crossed your mind when you awoke. So why were you crying? Maybe the adrenaline had worn off and now you were realizing how deep in shit you were in. Anything could’ve had happened in his presence. Anything.

Ari dropped you off, safe and sound at your house after making sure you were perfectly fine. He wanted to stay as a caution, but you declined, thanking him for the thousand time that day and walked inside your house.

Imagine your surprise when your heart dropped once again. It was like dejavú. The bouquet of flowers followed you and the rose petals scattered around the marble floor.

He knew where you lived.

And so you cried. This was violating, a violation of privacy that you had no control over. This was a man who took you because he wanted to, because he could.

I know that if this ever comes to light, your career will be at stake. We wouldn’t want that.

It shall be our dirty little secret. You have a wonderful home.

“Fuck.”

[cultofdixon]

Life or Death, Dixon

Daryl Dixon [PLATONIC] • She/Her Pronouns • Youngest Dixon Sister!Reader • It’s always these messy arguments that lead them into messy situations…let’s just hope neither of them have to die for it • ANGST/SFW • TW: Arguments / Gun Violence / Suicidal Tendencies Mentioned / Injuries / Violence / Scar

Requested by: Anon

“Are you seriously still mad at me? It wasn’t just me!”

“Yeah a grieving mother and a fucking ex-tyrant. The perfect team with little miss flight risk”

“I’m your fucking sister and you talk to me like that?!”

“Merle called you way worse!” Daryl snaps as he couldn’t believe he agreed to go on a run with his sister when he hasn’t completely wrapped his head around everything that had happened. The end of the Whispers war and the Reapers.

“At least I didn’t sleep with a fucking pyromaniac’s bitch”

“Hey!” He shoved Y/N to have her get the idea she went too far. But she wasn’t done.

“Seriously. You’re going to be mad about risking my life to save our fucking family when you rolled over on your back for a woman you fucked once in a cabin in the middle of nowhere just to get “inside it all” only for her and her own bitch to escape Maggie’s revenge. They’ve killed a good chunk of her people, Daryl!”

Daryl quickly whipped toward his sister dropping his crossbow and grabbing her by the jacket.

“At least Henry never my goddamn fucking sight long enough for him to get killed” He did it. He needed the last word and the last nerve wasn’t just struck but burned causing Y/N to instantly force him off storming off.

Then what happened next was a blur. Which led them here…

Bounded to wooden chairs and Daryl was the first to wake feeling his mouth was duct taped shut. If only he had duct tape during this risky trips with his bike, it is an easy fix type tool. But that didn’t matter in the moment as he tried to get a better look of his surroundings.

The place wasn’t familiar and once he understood that he quickly glance to his sister noticing the blood pooling from her temple. He didn’t know how long she’s been like such and the panic started to pool inside of him as he tried to make any form of noise to get his sister to react.

But it got someone with a familiar, enraged tone to emerge from the shadows showing the injured Reaper Brandon that had it out for the archer when his idiotic fallen group took him in.

“You weren’t easy to settle down. She definitely was” He laughs lightly as he with all his force kicked the chair she was bounded to watching her quickly sit up.

Y/N had a cut dangerously close to her left eye and it was swollen shut with that side of her face bruised as well. She had to be “put down” in order to be tied up. One can only imagine what they did to Daryl. She didn’t say anything when she rose her head given the pain and she thought if she tried to protest that the gun in the man’s hand would be used on them.

“You pinned my brothers and sister against each other back at our home. Killed big man and that bitch that got away really should’ve been in what…this your sister right?” Brandon grabbed her shoulders from behind her seat watching Daryl tense. “In her place. But you know…pinning siblings on one another make for better entertainment”

Daryl couldn’t say anything but with the way his expression almost always matched his emotions. At least in a way only another Dixon can read. Y/N turned her head toward the man she didn’t know when he rounded back toward her brother.

“What do you want with us? Your family’s gone”

“Yeah…so I need one of you to be” Brandon drops the gun he held onto the table in front of them watching them flinch at first. “There’s one bullet. I think you understand the rules if you’ve lived long enough”

Russian Roulette.

“You know he’ll just aim it at himself” Y/N scoffs spitting a bit of blood onto the table causing the worry and anxiety to build even higher inside her older brother. “Too selfless…”

“Yeah, but I heard y’all’s little squabble in the woods…he may still do what you say. But what are you going to do?” He smirks pushing the gun toward Y/N and taking out his knife threatening to kill Daryl if she didn’t pick it up. But once she did he didn’t retract knowing she would aim at him if he wasn’t going to keep a short leash on the situation.

“Judith gave yea Rick’s gun?”

“Until she’s ready”

“You know how to shoot a colt?”

“I think I can handle a revolver” Y/N laughs holstering it. “We are the only ones besides Negan that have used anything other than a gun. Thought she’d trust you with it more than me”

“You know Rick liked yea. It would’ve been you or Michonne holding that. Both of y’all’s mains not being a gun”

“Michonne is badass with a katana. I’m just a wannabe track and field star with an old javelin”

“So what I’m hearing is you want me to teach you how to use it”

I wish you didn’t Y/N frowns holding the gun in her hand watching Brandon grab her brother by the hair forcing his head back and bringing his knife to his jugular if she didn’t take aim.

The second she aimed it at Daryl, Brandon backed off knowing she was pissed about their argument and finally putting a permanent end to such.

“Life or death, Dixon”

“I choose life, Merle” Y/N rolls her eyes at her eldest brother as they were on the roof he was currently chained on. She decided not to leave him as she watched the vehicles that got the others out flee the city to their camp.

“You chose death here, pumpkin. By staying with me while the walkers flood the building and gain a sense that there’s fresh meat on the roof. You’ve always risked your life”

“For my family.”

“So what are you going to do”

Choose my family. Y/N gripped the handle on the gun, clicking it to load or not load the bullet and right as her finger rested on the trigger.

The two froze watching her quickly aim it to her temple and Daryl fought against the restraints while Brandon stood a bit in shock that she would do such even from what her brother said that he didn’t entirely understand.

Then the gun fired

A thud met the floor

And silence grew in the room causing Daryl to hyperventilate filling the emptiness as he had shut his eyes when he heard the gun fire not wanting to open them.

“You seriously think you’re going to end up alone?” Carol accused Daryl after he had told her about this Leah woman. “As much as not everybody finds a romantic soulmate. There are platonic ones out there”

“I’ve been accused by Y/N that Rick was mine. So I really am gonna end up alone”

“Seriously? Did you forget about the other name in that sentence? Let alone forget that I’m right fucking here?” Carol laughed at such receiving a confused look from her friend. “You still have a family, Daryl. And as much as the world pushed both Dixons into the earth to show them a piece of its mind…Y/N ain’t going anywhere. It will take a real nuclear ending for her to say goodbye to her life. She’s never leaving you, Daryl Dixon”

She’s your blood Daryl felt tears spring in his eyes as his body flinched to the couch of a comforting hand that when he opened his eyes he was met with Rosita’s worry filled expression.

“Aaron told us about his crazy experience being…sort of kidnapped. When you and Y/N didn’t come back when you did…we had to make sure you were alright” She states carefully taking the duct tape off as Daryl quickly whipped his attention to his sister getting cut out of her restraints by Aaron while she also set the gun she held on the table.

The gun was freshly fired. But her end wasn’t met.

Rosita had taken out Brandon and that was the gun fire that out sounded the fire that Y/N triggered. But again, her luck in russian roulette was there this time around.

“You need help standing?” Aaron asked as Y/N shook her head giving out a soft ‘thank you though’ when he went to check their surroundings outside.

The moment Y/N rose to her feet, Daryl brought himself over taking her into his arms caging her a bit. She kept herself cemented at first trying to keep up her front when Daryl has already cracked after what happened. It wasn’t until Rosita gave her a look that led her to give the Dixon siblings a moment of privacy as Y/N sobbed softly the second she left and latched onto her brother.

“You could’ve died…” Daryl stated as the group started their journey back to Alexandria. Y/N just shrugged at him. “Seriously?”

“What? If it was Merle, I wouldn’t hesitate to shoot his bitchass.”

“‘M just glad yea didn’t eat a bullet” Daryl wrapped his arm around her shoulders as she opened the barrel and started laughing like an idiot.

“Bro I would’ve met fucking Merle in hell” Y/N showed him the next shot was the bullet as Daryl instantly swiped the weapon from her. “Hey! Imma need that”

“Nah stick to your sharpened stick shit. Shouldn’t have trusted yea with drugs when you were six. Ain’t trusting yea with a gun now”

“I didn’t take the drugs!”

“Whatever”

[willowlevulett]

The second part of my self-indulgent Jayce smokes sadly on the balcony drabble. Truly, this man can not be written without a desperate longing for his lab partner. Small CW for a small reference of Jayce's canon attempt.

-

The balcony door clicks closed. Jayce feels his throat close along with it.

The freezing air wraps like a wreath around the soft brown hair of his partner, puffs of white smoke from his lips. Puffs of white smoke from Jayce's. Despite everything, all he wants is to know what it tastes like if those clouds meet in the middle.

Despite everything, he wants to press his palm back to the side of his throat for the entirety of whatever was to come. He wants to feel the words Viktor was about to press into the distance between them. If they are to be seperated, deathly final and with a flourish, Jayce wishes he could enscribe each syllable to the harsh callouses on his fingers.

Dramatic, Caitlyn would tease him.

Viktor, despite the surely audible thrash of Jayce's fast beating heart, simply sits and does not speak for several minutes. He stares forward, his eyes focused in a way Jayce knew that he was not on this balcony. Not really. He was a million miles away, dissecting and ripping apart something with his teeth. Savoring each mouthful before he would even think to bring it to Jayce. So he waits, like he always does.

He busies himself with straightening out the mess he made. The one he can at least. The ash tray, now chipped but intact, returns to its spot on the small side table. He scoots his chair back into the position it was before and tosses the chip of glass from the tray into the small trash can where he throws his cigarette butts. It is finished woefully fast and Viktor still isn't looking at him.

He lights another cigarette, angling his chair away from Viktor and blowing the thick smoke out over the side of the balcony. The freezing wind whips it away and ushers it off to better things. His sighs through his teeth. This was stupid. He should just shatter this silence between them. He usually does whenever he messes up bad enough for Viktor to have to gut and clean the imagined Jayce in his head. Looking for clues in the bloodied carcass of his imagined partner of how he could be so stupid. Usually, Viktor would give up, hands buried deep in his spectral innards and demand that Jayce give him the taste of the real thing. And Jayce does, every time.

Jayce would let Viktor rip him open from sternum to hip hone. Would let him dig through as he pleases, caress organs and sinew with the methodical care only Viktor is capable of. Precise and calculated movements, laced with warmth and that small smile Jayce loves so dearly.

Jayce wants to scream 'tell me what to do and I'll do it. I would tear myself apart to keep you warm'.

He keeps his goddamn mouth shut and takes another drag.

"I hate that you got an apartment with a balcony."

The silence stretched for so long, the statement said so briskly that Jayce once again startles.

He huffs a humorless laugh, smoke bleeding through his lips as he repsonds.

"Come on, Vik. You know I'm too dramatic to settle for my own balcony."

"That's not funny."

"It's a little cold to be funny. What did you need? I know you need something. You got that look in your eye like your knee deep in my fucking brain stem." Viktor doesn't turn his head but his eyes shift, giving him an incredulous side eye like Jayce should have no idea that he does that. Feeling bold, Jayce steadily meets his sideways gaze, dares him to deny the assessment.

"I can guess but I always prefer to get my dress downs directly from your mouth." This makes the side of Viktor's mouth quirk. Jayce almost hopes he takes the bait that statement creates. At least it would make this conversation more bearable.

He doesn't.

"What you said." The pause afterward makes Jayce want to tear his hair out. God, he could feel that this conversation was going to be a sputtering engine. Roaring to life and then choking out black smoke, stuttering to a stop in painful stalls.

"You can't just," he bites down onto his lower lip, running it between his teeth before releasing it, "say things like that."

Jayce wishes Viktor would take him between his teeth. Leave dents and marks in him until Viktor was satisfied.

"But it was cruel of me to send you away like that. I apologize."

Cruel is how Viktor still hasn't fully looked at him. Cruel is the unsteady breath Jayce is taking and the pinprick of tears behind his eyes. Cruel is the freezing night air that rushes in the space between their bodies.

The conversation sputters black smoke.

Finally, after one long drag, Jayce rubs his temple and manages to push the words out, "Okay, well, thanks for that. And I am sorry that I made you uncomfortable. I'll keep my feelings to myself from now on."

Viktor seems to crumble in on himself at that. The side of his face looks pained which confuses Jayce. Is this conversation not a continuation of the rejection he received last night? What did Viktor want from this? It certainly wasn't what Jayce just said.

He could feel the cogs slipping in the machine but he couldn't see where it was misaligned. He needed to tear the hatch cover off, get his hands dirty, and potentially mangled in the process.

Well, if there's anything Jayce is good at, it was certainly throwing himself into the blazing heat of forward motion. What were a couple more scars anyway.

"Why does it make you so uncomfortable? Is it truly so horrible that I feel this way for you?" He meant to sound firm, maybe even stern. Instead he sounds petulant, small. The last part of the sentence whispered with a mortifying crack in his voice. He also realizes he hasn't said what he means. Not really. He knows his eyes poured out the truth like a weeping wound, staining Viktor and the couch below them both. But there is a misaligned cog here.

"Viktor, I-"

"I can't." Black smoke, a click of a tongue in frustration, the restart of the engine, "You can't play with me like this, Jayce. You can't look at me like all the hookups you sweep off their feet in bars. I can't be that for you." It was his turn for his voice to drop down into quiet and small. The voice crack sending painful shivers down Jayce's spine.

The statement is so confusing to him at first that he simply stays still for a second, his cigarette dropping ash between his thighs. Can't be that for you and all the hookups you sweep off their feet.

What?

"What?" The misaligned cog in the conversation catches him in the meat of his thumb, ripping out a chunk and sending his heart into a painful squeeze.

"You think that I- oh gods Viktor please look at me."

Finally, oh finally, Viktor turns and his molten honey gaze burns into Jayce. If he was a funeral pyre, Jayce would light the wood himself.

"You think I want a quick, messy fuck?" He huffs out a laugh at the thought. Gods, no. Jayce wanted to bash his skull open and leave his cerebrum as an offering at Viktor's feet.

"Well it makes the most logical sense. You were inebriated and looking at me like-" he clears his throat awkwardly, "like you wanted to eat me alive. After all these years? Of me quietly- well it made the most sense. And I got, emotional. Angry." He shakes his head as if this was the most ridiculous part of the situation, him being angry at Jayce.

"Quietly what, Viktor."

"Please, Jayce."

"Quietly what?"

The wind stills, as if holdings its breath along with the two men on the balcony. Jayce was and always will be reckless.

Jayce slides down onto his knees, the cold ground immediately biting through his jeans and into the bone. He puts his hands forward, clasped as if in prayer, onto Viktor's lap. When the other man startles and looks down at him with a wild look in his eye, Jayce slips his prayers between them, grabbing firmly onto Viktor's hands. His breath, tinged with cigarette smoke and the heat of his emotions boiling over in his stomach, puffs up into the face of the man he's so desperately in love with.

"I am in love with you. So painfully, so wholly that those words aren't enough. If I could tear out my heart and let you inspect it for defects, for a lie, I would. If I could carve your every breath into my ribs, I would. Whatever you want. Whatever you need." He shifts on the ground, pain pulsing up from his right knee. A crunching noise reaches past the pulse pounding in his ears, and he realizes that there was a tiny shard of glass under that knee. He hopes the wound scars.

"I don't care what you have 'quietly' been feeling this whole time. If it's a fraction of what I feel or simply tolerance. I don't care. I'm done folding this away and trying to be normal. I will be whatever you want me to be. A lover, a partner only in the lab, your bed warmer on cold nights. Whatever you want. If I could hand over my soul for you, I would"

As soon as he finishes his dramatic speech, he realizes he means it. More than anything, he means it. He feels insane. He is insane. Those are insane words to say to someone, no matter how entwined you are with them. Despite this, he wants to say more. Needs to say more.

"I don't want to eat you alive." Jayce presses a kiss reverently to Viktor's red tinged knuckles. "I want you to eat me alive."

Black smoke clears, the engine clicks into gear. Viktor's hand snakes out from Jayce's grip and latches onto his chin, a mirror of last night but flipped on its head. Last nights grip was stilling, horrifying, causing him to beg for forgiveness before even knowing the sin. Instead, this touch was electrifying, a potential. A spark for a wildfire that Jayce's mouth stretches open to catch on his tongue. Viktor's thumb sweeps to the side, catching on his lower lip and staying there like it was always meant to.

"You mean it." His mouth is apage in awe, his breath ghosting past his lips and puffing over Jayce's face. "Fuck, you really mean it, Jayce."

And like god sending rain down to parched earth, Viktor presses his freezing, chapped lips to Jayce's. The spark alights on Jayce's teeth and burns through him in a blink of an eye, a gasped breath pushed against a closed mouth.

The kiss descends quickly from the press of lips Viktor might have meant it to be into Jayce desperately angling his head upwards, greedily sucking Viktor's bottom lip between his. Determined to feel where his teeth had sunk into it just a couple minutes earlier. It tastes like smoke, like hot iron, like day old coffee. He drinks it down and begs for more, pressing upwards so his hands can slip from Viktor's lap and into his hair. It's sweaty at the nape from a day in the lab and tangled from his incessant play of the strands there. It's everything Jayce thought it would be. Viktor gasps against his mouth, and that too is everything Jayce had hoped it would be and so much more. Hot and humid breaths passed between mouths. Teeth clicking in a desperate attempt to get closer. Viktor's hand tangling in the fabric of Jayce's sweater, tugging insistently forward, forward, forward.

They break for air out of necessity, but Jayce doesn't let them separate. He buries his face into that column of throat he so desperately wants to map with his tongue.

"I fear more talking will be needed." Viktor out of breath, chest heaving panting breaths that Jayce can feel where his lips brush his neck.

"After. Whatever you need. But after." And Jayce pulls his face down to his once more.

[estrellami-1]

Writer prompt: Steve finding out about Murray getting Joncy together & rips into him for helping their relationship to end the way it did. Nancy & Jonathan realizing that their behavior was not only not acceptable but also cruel (esp Jon for taking the photos)

Hello my friend! I actually had part of this already written and I was trying to see if I was ever actually going to post it… and then you sent this prompt which actually (mostly) works! This focuses more on Steve ripping Murray a new one so I hope this is close enough to what you want! ❤️

They’re having dinner. It’s a once-a-week thing Joyce had decided on, back when everyone was still healing, when they all needed the reminder that they made it out. Maybe not unscathed, but they’re out.

It’s during one such dinner she invited Murray to. She’d leaned over to everyone else, whispering, “I asked him to be on his best behavior.”

Steve doesn’t know how they end up here. How they end up with Murray essentially patting himself on the back for getting Nancy and Jonathan together, then just as suddenly turning to Steve and Eddie with a wicked glint in his eye.

He’s talking, and Steve’s getting mad. He doesn’t care what wild theories Murray comes up with for him. But he’s targeting someone who’s clearly uncomfortable with the attention.

Eddie’s withdrawing. His hands are in his lap, his head’s bowed, his shoulders are hunched.

Steve is livid.

“That’s enough,” Steve says suddenly.

Murray pretends he doesn’t hear. “Of course, it’s not like any of you’d care about that,” he says, gaze lingering first on Robin, then Will.

Steve stands and slams his hands on the table. “That’s enough,” he says again, louder. He’s shaking. Eddie won’t look at him. He can’t feel his face, doesn’t know what expression he’s making, but he’s so, so angry. “Did it ever occur to you that the couple you were oh-so-happy to finally get together meant she cheated on me? Did it ever occur to you that you only knew one side of the story? That I was fucking sixteen years old and a girl died in my pool. I was sixteen and trying to contend with the fact that I was living in a goddamn haunted house. And I’m sorry I wasn’t enough,” he tells Nancy. “I tried, though. If you don’t believe a single thing I say, believe that. I tried.” He sighs, shakes his head, looks down at the table for a second before settling his gaze back on Murray. “Did it ever occur to you that people should get to make their own goddamned decisions? Regardless of someone’s sexuality, pushing people together is never okay. Regarding their sexuality, you don’t get to take that choice away from them. Regardless of who’d be okay with it. That is their choice and you stripped a basic human right away from them.” He leans over, looks Murray right in his eye. “I used to be like you. I used to think I had to be perfect, had to know everything, everyone. Had to have all the answers. But what happens when you don’t? What happens when you don’t know, Murray? What does that make you?” He pauses for a second; just enough time for Murray to open his mouth. “Human,” he continues. Murray’s mouth closes again. “It makes you fucking human. So let us be human, too. Just shut your goddamned mouth for once in your life before I do it for you. Permanently.” He narrows his eyes at Murray. “I took on a Demogorgon with a bat. I took on a Russian soldier with nothing. I’ve been to the Upside Down and back. Don’t fucking test me.”

The silence is palpable.

“Well,” Murray says finally. “Lovely meal as always, Joyce-”

“Just leave,” she says, quietly, but no less severely. He pauses, then nods and leaves.

The silence is unbearable.

Steve’s chair is loud as he scoots it back. “Excuse me,” he murmurs, making his way around the table to get to the stairs. “I’m not hungry.”

He doesn’t look up at anyone. He doesn’t see Robin, teary-eyed and proud. He doesn’t see Eddie, shell-shocked. He doesn’t see Nancy, crying.

He doesn’t see Will, terrified and grateful.

He sees his shoes as he walks up the stairs, making his way into one of the first rooms he finds. Thinks it’s Will’s, based on the decorations.

He numbly makes his way to the bed and slides down to sit on the floor, back against the comforter. He buries his head in his hands and tries to remember how to breathe.

He doesn’t know how much time passes before he hears careful footsteps. He knows he’s visible from the hallway. He can’t bring himself to care.

The footsteps enter the room he’s in. “Stevie?” Eddie asks cautiously. “Are you okay?”

Steve sniffs, even though his eyes are dry as ever. “Ask me again when I stop shaking,” he murmurs, giving an absent smile at Eddie’s huff of laughter.

“Mind if I sit?”

Steve lifts his head, looks at Eddie. He’s got his head cocked hopefully, glancing at the ground by Steve. Steve pats it, and Eddie’s smile grows. “Joyce is officially my favorite of the moms. And the scariest. She laid into Jonathan and Nancy. But, uh. I think everyone else is okay.”

There’s enough emphasis there to make Steve pause. He knows about Will, then.

He’s brought back to the present when Eddie sighs. “Y’know, that guy’s a real dick. Like, an absolute, grade-A douchebag. But, uh. He’s not wrong. About me.”

Steve glances at him. Watches him playing with his fingers. “Yeah?” Steve asks, almost not recognizing the hopeful tone in his voice. Eddie looks over, and Steve smiles. “Me too.”

Eddie moves a hand, tentatively intertwines it with one of Steve’s. Steve squeezes back. “I can’t- my brain, it’s too-” he waves a hand around his head- “to do anything else. But. This is good.”

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees, squeezes back.

A few minutes later Will pokes his head in. “Steve? Eddie?”

Steve turns a tired smile on Will. “Hey.”

Will blinks. “Um. Hey. Can I come in?” Steve pointedly looks around. Will snorts and walks in, settles criss-cross on the floor in front of them. “I, uh. Wanted to thank you, Steve. For. Um.” His breath hitches. “Just. I know nobody would care? But it’s. I feel like it would be a big deal. But anyways I care, and I’m just. Really grateful.” His breath hitches again, and a teardrop hits his hands where they’re clasped in his lap.

“Oh, Will,” Steve murmurs, squeezing Eddie’s hand once before dropping it and holding both arms out to Will.

Will crawls forward and collapses into Steve. “That was really scary,” he murmurs. Steve hums in agreement.

Suddenly Will looks up. “Are you okay? He- he just told everyone, and we don’t even know if it’s true or not, and then you- you completely shut him down, which was awesome, and you’re kinda my hero, but- are you okay?”

“I’ll be alright,” Steve promises, looking over at Eddie, asking wordlessly. Eddie nods. “He was right. About both of us. And all of that. Honestly, my comfort was the last thing on my mind downstairs. I know the words people use. Hell, I know the words I used, before your brother knocked some sense into me.” He widens his eyes exaggeratedly at Will, who giggles. “And I just thought… it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter if it’s true or not. Words can hurt, and I’m done with people I love being hurt. Especially when I can stop it. So… I did.”

“You did,” Eddie agrees, beginning to giggle. “You threatened him, Stevie. That was fucking metal.”

Steve laughs then, squeezes Will tighter to him and leans over to rest against Eddie, content. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Will agrees. “You’re okay, though?”

“I’m alright,” Steve promises him.

Will turns to Eddie. “Are you okay?”

Eddie smiles, ruffles Will’s hair. “I’m alright, Baby Byers. How’re you holding up?”

Will thinks, then nods. “I’m okay,” he says. “Um. Jon and Nancy are at the Wheelers’. Everyone else is still downstairs. Are you-”

“In a minute,” Steve answers wryly. “I’m still shaking.”

Will snorts, tucking his head into Steve’s chest. “I think I’ve been shaking ever since he looked at me.”

“It’s the eyes, right?” Eddie asks. “Like they’re looking into your very soul.”

“Yeah,” Will laughs. “They’re unsettling.”

Steve sighs, lets go of Will with one hand, lets it fall onto Eddie’s. He squeezes briefly, smiling when Eddie twines their fingers together.

Will watches silently. “Were you together before he said anything?”

“No,” Eddie admits. “But I don’t think it would’ve taken much longer. We were already most of the way there.”

Will nods. “And I guess I don’t have to ask if you know about me.”

“Why don’t you tell us?” Eddie gently suggests. “He hasn’t taken that choice away from you yet.”

Will nods, takes a breath. Whispers. “I’m gay.”

“Same,” Eddie grins, offering a high-five. Will looks at him, surprised, before clapping their hands together.

They both turn to Steve, who chuckles. “I’m bisexual. I like both.”

Eddie’s grin widens. “Like Bowie.”

Steve snorts. “That’s exactly what Robin said.”

Eddie waggles his brows. “Great minds, and all that jazz.”

Will and Steve both chuckle at that. Will leans back, and Steve lets him go. “Thank you,” he murmurs. “For what you said, earlier. And for just now. Um. I’m okay. And Mom bought ice cream and that sounds really good right now.”

Eddie snorts. “Go on,” he says. “We’ll be right down.”

Will smiles and walks out, and Eddie turns back to Steve. “Okay?”

“How many times are people gonna ask me that,” Steve faux-grumbles, leaning further into Eddie. He sighs. “I really think the best answer I can give is I’ll be okay. I really wasn’t thinking about myself at all.”

Eddie hums. “What were you thinking about?”

Steve huffs out a semblance of a laugh. “Honestly? You. You’d shut down, you were staring at the table, your shoulders were curled in, you wouldn’t look at me… and then he looked at Robin, and Will, and I just saw red. Like I said, I’m done with the ones I love being hurt. It’s- it was never about me. Not this.”

Eddie tilts his head. “It kinda is, though? It was about us, and you’re a part of us, Stevie.”

“Well,” Steve says, then sighs and gives up, tucking his head onto Eddie’s shoulder. “You said Joyce laid into Nance and Jon?”

“Mhm. Terrifying, I tell you. Like that mom look, y’know? But even worse because she’s been through all this shit and knows all your secrets.”

Steve snorts. “How’d they take it?”

“Nancy was crying before Joyce started. I don’t think Jonathan did at all, but who knows what happened once they left.”

“Crying?”

“Mhm. I wouldn’t be surprised if she comes around the next few days, looking to apologize.”

Steve snorts. “That’ll be the day.”

“I might hang around the next few days. I’d like to see it.”

“I want you to hang around.”

Eddie smiles down at him. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Anything more than this, tonight, I think wouldn’t be a good idea. But you could come over? We could sleep? Talk in the morning?”

“Sounds perfect,” Eddie says warmly. “But first, ice cream?”

Steve chuckles. “But first, ice cream,” he agrees, and together they walk downstairs.

So as I said I had (part of) this done before (the last hundred words or so I just added to help tie it all together), so it doesn’t end as nicely as I’d like. I think Nancy and Jonathan absolutely need to apologize, yes, but I also felt it was important for Steve to say that, to stick up for his friends, and to apologize to Nancy, even if he didn’t need to; it just felt very in-character, like he thinks everything’s his fault, so he’d apologize; but he’s also very loyal and protective, so Mama Bear Steve came out the second Murray looked at Eddie, Robin and Will. Eddie and Steve and Will for the win, I LOVE the dynamic we’ve cooked up for them (because the producers are too chickenshit to let them bond the way they absolutely would), and off-screen Robin and Steve have another bathroom moment with her ripping him a new one in the way of “you need to take care of yourself, dingus, we’re fine, thank you for protecting us but Jesus Christ protect yourself for once-” and then absolutely proceeding to smother him in a hug.

Anyway. I hope you liked it!! I may do a part 2 with Nancy and Jon’s apologies but it depends on if writers’ block keeps kicking my ass the way it has been.

(Edit: sort-of part 2 has been written!)

[cherrysturn1olo]

rewritten love

warnings: toxic rls, shouting, argument, swearing, mentions of cheating, italic is foreshadowing

"Letting go of someone you love is hard but holding on to someone who acts like they don't feel the same is harder”

"you say that all too much you always say 'I didn't mean to or 'it's not on purpose' but do you know what I think y/n" he shouts giving you no time to respond before saying "I think you're just a fucking mess, a complete and utter disaster, and I'm here, stuck with you." His words cut deeper than a knife, each syllable slicing | into your heart a little more "I fucking hate being stuck with you, I hate everything about you" he says his words echoing through your head your eyes gleaming with unshed tears "do you want me to leave, if it'll spare you from this misery I may as well leave" you say your voice cracking and without even thinking about it matt shouts "yes I want you to leave! I want you out of my sight, out of my life, out of my goddamn mind! Get out! Leave! Now!"

I freeze for a second the reality of the situation hitting me like a truck, he's breaking up with me. The man I fell in love at 16. He's telling me to leave. I turn away from him head hanging low as I walk up the stairs, to our bedroom picking up my beige duffle bag off the floor packing a few necessities that I'll need: a change of clothes, money deodorant, and a few bottles of water. Once I got downstairs and tied my shoes, zipped my jacket I look at matt, no sign of regret in his face. I slip my wedding ring off my finger putting it on the cabinet outside our front door. "I love you" I mumble under my breath before walking out the door closing it softly behind me.

end of foreshadowing

The comforting smell of pumpkin spice candles fill the room creating a cosy environment as well as the warm glow of the lamp on my coffee table. It was the kind of night where the rush of the city streets wasn't as hectic. At least for me. And for him matt, my high school sweetheart, people tell me teenage love doesn't exist, but me and matt had proved that opinion wrong. We met at 13, started dating at 16 and here we are at 21 sat on the couch of our shared apartment watching the movie saga I had grown obsessed with over my teenage years (twilight), our pet cat bubbles snuggled up beside me. I loved nights like this, just quiet, enjoying each other's company not a worry in the world. He looks at me as the all to familiar intro of the film plays "seriously twilight again" he jokes putting his arm around me pulling me closer "I remember the first time you mentioned this film, you sounded like it was the highlight of your existence" he chuckles sofitly the sound id grown to love so much. "I love these movies so much Id rewatch it weekly when I was like 14, honestly anything that reminds me of twilight. Oh my god we should move to forks." I say my voice bubbly and excited "youd do that? I thought you liked ther city" matt asked his tone soft. “i’d love to live somewhere like forks, quiet, full of nature..it doesn’t even have to be in forks just somewhere like it” matt smiles at my sentance “we could look into that” he says with a smile on his face suddenly there’s a knock at the door i go to open it and it’s a girl. who looks around my age and she speaks, “is matt here?” i frown “yeah why” i ask “he’s supposed to be taking me on a date” the colour drains from my face and i turn to matt who was walking up to me “i never, i don’t even recognise this girl?” he says confused. she takes out her phone and shows a picture of her and matt. i feel enraged as i turn to matt and frown “care to explain yourself?”

HI GUYS lmk if you w a pt2

[via-l0ve]

could you right a fluffy drabble with Ponyboy hosting a chaotic sleepover with greaser gang anf fem! reader please ? ;000 reader is hinted to have romantic feelings for Dally

a/n: i love these types of requests! i did a short prompt at the beginning and then i popped some headcannons at the end. i hope you enjoy :) i was giggling writing this lol.

warnings: swearing

Sleepover (Gang hc’s + slightly romantic Dallas!)

“hey! hey y/n!” You turn around and see Ponyboy running over to you. School had just been let out and you were headed back home.

“hey Pony, what’s up?” you smiled at him as he finally caught up to you. His hair was messy from the slight windy weather in Tusla; he combed it back with his fingers. He gave you a small grin.

“I’m throwin’ a slumber party tonight at my house! you gotta come y/n, it’s gonna be so fun! besides, you’re the life of the party, wouldn’t be as fun without ya.” he smiled, obviously excited as he explained at all to you.

“sure, pone i’d love to. what time? the whole gang gonna be there?” you asked, smiling at him.

he nodded. “yep, all of the guys and I. around six probably, think we’re gonna order pizza or something.” he shrugged.

“all of the guys?” i blushed a little. “i mean.. even dallas?” i asked, trying to play it off as if it was nonchalant

he rolled his eyes playfully. “yeah, y/n. even Dallas.” he smirked.

“so you’ll be there?” he asked with a smile.

“wouldn’t miss it for the world.” you responded, smiling at him

“good! it’ll be fun!” he gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze and left, leaving you to go home and pack a bag.

Once you get to the house chaos endures

All of the guys are crowded around the table, playing cards and betting their money on stupid bets that Two-Bit and Darry win constantly

“i’m losin’ all my goddamn money cus’ of ya!”

“sorry Steve, not my fault you suck at rummy.”

*throws all of the cards.*

after losing all of their money, everyone decides to make some food (despite literally having ZERO idea how to cook!)

It eventually breaks off into a bake off between

Y/n, Dallas, Johnny, Ponyboy

Steve, Two-Bit, Darry and Soda

Darry was dragged into this and since he knows how to cook somewhat you and dallas were cussing and so competitive because “they can’t have a good one on their team!! ADVANTAGE!!”

So you paired darry with the worst trio imaginable

The kitchen catches on fire because Two-Bit dropped some grease on the stove and everyone started screaming and Steve grabbed a towel and threw it on top of the flame to suffocate it and then the towel got CHARRED and darry had to unleash half of the fire extinguisher onto the stove.

Dallas grabbed you and literally yanked you to the other room bc god forbid you get hurt

darry to two-bit afterwards:

everyone had to take a break after that.

anyways, Two-Bit got banned and became the judge after the small fire and you guys continued to make food.

Ponyboy mistook the salt for sugar and Dallas smacked him on the head after he realized and it was too late because Johnny already mixed it in and you just looked scared bc how tf were you supposed to win now

Little did you know that sodapop and steve literally forgot to put eggs in?? and Darry didn’t catch them??

But anyways Two-bit absolutely GOBBLES up the cookies you guys made and then immediately spits it out because of the overwhelming amount of salt

And he can’t even eat the other cookies because wtf is that

After cleaning up and being very aware of the stove, you all move into the living room and ponyboy goes

“guys i got you all gifts.”

AND THIS MF PULLS OUT MATCHING PJS :(

The entire gang is going 👁️👄👁️

meanwhile you’re literally

“that’s so fucking cute.”

let’s be honest they prolly look like this:

Two bit def wanted the dress

Dallas, steve and darry were all very adamant to not wear any of them

You easily convinced Dallas

“please? we’d all look so good.”

“…fine, y/n/n.”

awww he loves you

sodapop also definitely wore one of the dresses and steve wore the footie pj’s and they matched

you guys went to the DX all dolled up in your matching pj’s and you bought a ton of shit like candy bars and cigarettes and beer and energy drinks

you guys go back home and decide to call three different pizza places and see who can deliver the fastest

(no one thought of the outcome of having like 10 fucking pizzas to eat)

but anyways Pizza Hut was the fastest

Dallas dared steve that he couldn’t chug a beer and eat four pizza slices in four minutes

he did it and the outcome was dallas losing five bucks and steve spending an hour in the bathroom frantically yelling “IM DYING!”

Johnny wants to watch a movie and is indecisive and eventually gets all the boys arguing about what to watch so you and Dallas sit back and eat your candy and watch them all scream and argue over which shrek movie was better (Two-Bit is FRANTICALLY arguing that the third one is superior.)

after they decide on a movie and steve emerges from the bathroom, you pull out facemasks and force everyone to do them with you

you sit on dallas’ lap to put it on him and he’s lowkey blushing and loving your touch but he’s too tough he won’t say anything

but he’s literally looking at you like 🥰

you didn’t tell the guys that the masks were peel offs and you got to watch them all go through the five stages of grief as they ripped the masks off

ponyboy is SCREAMING

literally flabbergasted

Steve is begging sodapop to take it off for him because “it hurts less when someone else does it.”

Two-bit can barley breathe because he’s laughing so hard

Darry is js grunting and i feel like he peeled his off before it even dried so now his fingers are sticky and he’s having a fit

Johnny is the quietest one but he got some in his eyebrow and the YELP he let out when he YANKED IT

Dallas is literally labor breathing “hee-hoo hee-hoo.” lookin ass

you’re literally dying because wtf is happening

after the boys go through their traumatic experience, you all cuddle up and watch your movie.

Darry is the first one to fall asleep and Dallas and you gang up to draw on his face

someone totally drew a dick on Darry’s poor face and when he wakes up and sees this huge weiner drawn on his face he is going to murder

Johnny is out next and he gets the whole treatment of face drawings

i feel like when ponyboy falls asleep steve pours water on his face and he wakes up like moms when their kids wake them up for a drink of water

terrifying.

Two-bit is drunk off his ass bro💀💀 someone get this kid a tranquilizer bc holy fuck

at like 2am he’s talking some shit about interdimensional aliens and it’s lowkey scary

someone put him down.

Steve clocks out and he’s using sodas face as a pillow and sodapop is just enduring it.

Eventually only you and dallas are left and you guys are sitting next to eachother

you pass out and unconsciously cuddle into him and he literally melts

he wraps his arms around you and puts his chin on ur head and passes out

the gang def takes pics of you guys all snuggled up when they wake up

[thatbanditqueen]

A Basic Training Snippet

Life has been very cruel and gotten between me and my favorite pastime... writing delusional scenarios in which I, I mean my original characters, dated Elvis Presley. So I thought for fun I would just share a very short snippet from the chapter of Basic Training I am working on, in which Elvis invites Bess to spend the weekend with him in Waco at the house of his friend, DJ and TV host Eddie Fadal.

This is very rough, I am not sure if it sounds like Elvis, I need to go back through it once I finish the chapter. I haven't even had anyone alpha this. However, I had at one point told @be-my-ally I would participate in the writing prompt "weather" and post Sunday (yesterday) and so this is my very pathetic attempt to just post something that at least mentions weather in passing...

If you want to read or catch up on this WIP you can find it here

“Well, you know I’m mainly a legs and ass man, through and through, but boy oh boy, Bessie is stacked. I tell ya what. Fa sho. I don’t know how it's possible, but they’re even bigger when you got ‘em in ya hands. Why you nodding Lamar, you ain’t ever gotten to second base, quit lyin.”

The rain had stopped by the time Bess opened her eyes again to find the bed empty, though she could still hear the drip drop of water through the hole. There it was, like an inverted nipple in the middle of the new glossy pink wall, a perfect round sphere with layers of drywall caved in around the edges where the firework had shot through. The smell of cigarettes wafted in from outside, along with a set of men's voices.  Bess was about to call to them when she heard Elvis say the word “Anita.”

There was laughter, then the sound of slaps and skids along concrete, as if a scuffle had broken out, followed by more laughter.

“Shit, but you’re wrong, Rex, cuz there are really only two types of girls. See, with ‘Nita, she is a good girl, but she puts it all on the table. If I’m happy, she’s happy, that’s all she wants. She let's it all hang out. All I gotta do is look at her and smile and she’s gonesville. But then, then there are the ones who keep it all tied up. You know, you saw it Lamar, when I come down here, Anita was ballin her damn eyes out. Now Bess, Bess’d never let you see her cry. Not if she can halp it. She plays it cool. But when you touch her you can feel her vibrating underneath that ice, jus enough to know her motor's running. And boy, when you get it going, what a motor. When she cries out, man, you know ya really earned it. Know what I mean?" 

There was some muffled laughter, and Bess couldn’t quite hear everything, but what she did hear made her face flush a deep crimson red.

“Oh, well I found out last night.  I swear, Bess tastes so fresh and sweet, I know I’m the first guy she let touch her.”

“Nah, a college girl?”

“What do you know, huh, lardass? Reckon I been with seventy five, no, I mean a hundred or more girls. Trust me, I know women, that girl spent college with her nose in her books.”

“Now you got your nose in her - OW - what the fuck?”

“I don’t wanna hear you talk bout her like that, got it?”

“But you just -”

“But you just, but you just, just mind ya goddamn manners.”

Bess sat there, unsure if she wanted to keep listening, but as she turned she was distracted by a dark set of eyes staring her from the doorway. She pulled the strap of her nightie up, and smoothed her hair back as she smiled at Janice Fadal.

“Mommy told me not to wake you up, so I’ve just been sitting here waiting. Ready to do my make up again?”

Bess nodded, relaxing as she stood and patted the little girl’s head.

“Sure, just let me get dressed, huh?’

Then Janice’s slick little tongue curved up and licked the bottom of Bess’ wrist.

“I don’t think you taste like ice cream at all. More like salt. “

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more to come, let me know what you think....

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[lauriemarch]

i want to believe it that i could be loved that i could love someone and they will love me just as much and for just as long but i’m a lone wave crashing against the empty thoughtless shore. a girl i loved showed the slightest bit of interest and i became sick with desire, i threw up and dreamt of her and her alone, i joke at every dinner table i lay my head at that i will feast on the women before me, emboldened by my body and the shield it grants me, who can take the fat lesbian with a hunch and cackled laughter seriously? who could love the monster in the mirror? i want a masc a butch a punk girl with blunt hair a pretty masc with a mullet and perfect teeth i want blue hair pink hair purple hair green hair i want lithe limbs or stubby knees i want the sound of combat boots against linoleum or maybe the patter of flats against hard wood blonde hair that glints in the sun a perfect pout stained berry and gloss a button up rolled up to the elbows i want to be famous and gay i want women throwing themselves at me with a speed unknowable. i am a double chin and a flubby stomach. i am puffy and big. you scared me once by tilting a bench i was on and i freaked because you would know how heavy i was, not because i would hit the ground. girls are perfect, all of them that i meet, and i am the perfect exception. the division, not the rule. the singularity. i’m going to write a play about lesbians so i can see myself be loved on stage. fiction sweeter than reality.

-

“political lesbianism.” what if i’m tired. what if i’m fighting a battle different than the girls behind my screen, the girls who pitch and rage against labels and nonlabels and “you are bisexual. hope this helps.” and transmisogyny and evil in 240 characters? what if my battle is slight– it’s a mother and a daughter on a couch, the daughter’s hands scrabble for the solids of her mother’s hands, and i’m crying for the millions of girls i’ll never be. i’m crying for my dad’s death (it hasn’t happened yet) or the fatal car crash that will kill me (i have no way of confirming this) or the eternal hell that awaits me (i love the Lord Jesus Christ). political lesbianism. i am so tired. lesbianism is political and i know this but i want for one moment for my existence to not matter so goddamn much. i want to cry here on this couch with my mama and i want to sleep assured that the sun will rise on my tender skin. i don’t want to argue with you, stranger on the internet, i don’t want to be mean and angry and so fucking bitter!!!! lesbianism is political. i walk around and feel love, bright and hot, from all directions. my friends love me, lesbianism despite. my family loves me, lesbianism despite. the world will come to love me, lesbianism despite. 

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this christmas, i feel useless. i sit on the couch and i sleep for endless hours, i watch too much tv and let my phone autoscroll through instagram. i watch beautiful lives flash in front of me and twinkle through my eyes but my body is so heavy and my bank account shouts into a distant void and i’m sinking further and further into these couch cushions that my parents have so graciously afforded me. my dad wanted to reach out and connect with me last night but all i could do was spit angry, thoughtless nonsense. i haven’t been mad at my dad in years. but i feel so useless, so incapable, so like i’ve failed the two people in this world who have given up everything and more for me to be listless and dead from the ground up. my mom wants me to stand with her at the stove and make handmade dinner rolls but i want sleep and dreamland, stars twinkling above me and a world that makes sense. my dreams are stressful but my life is open-ended evil. my brothers are strangers that keep holding up mirrors. my mom holds my hand tighter in prayer and i think she thinks i’m going to kill myself. my dad keeps asking me “how can we fix it” and i keep crying that i don’t k

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i am the only one of my high school friends with my autocaps still turned off and somehow that feels like a marker of adulthood. i am sitting in the dentist’s chair waiting to get my first cavities filled and i feel so small, like a child in the next room, rough and ugly and unsure of what happens next. marriage is not in my foreseeable future but payton went on and got engaged and married to the best man for her and i keep osculating between lesbian and incredibly unsure and scared of disappointment. my role in this group is the one getting her masters degree and that really doesn’t feel like i’m pulling enough weight, somehow. maybe if it was for something more important or ferocious. maybe if it was a master’s degree in having a child so perfect that the sun shines just for them, or owning a house in a suburb that just makes sense 

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my dad still opens the car door for me and this year i let a girl treat me like dirt. like a spinning plate or an elastic band, snapping back and forth and unsteady and i never knew what was coming that day, or what she meant when she said that. i sent so many screenshotted texts asking what did she mean? or is she flirting with me? would you let this happen to me? am i destined for dirt? 

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sitting on my childhood couch. eating tamales straight out of the husk. watching the thanksgiving episode of gossip girl. having the first real fears about growing up and getting out. of all the things i don’t want to outgrow, it’s my father’s embrace, the way my mom holds my hand in prayer, the feeling of my brother’s hair under my gentle ruffle. i want childhood to cling to me like the expensive perfume i put on in the mornings, a too-mature gift for a girl who places desperate wishes on the stagnant moon. 

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everything i noted down while i was home for christmas this year