#me when old men beef

[mrsimpstabler]

what is this feeling but it’s just Bellini and Tedesco beefing

[dirt-str1der]

What ive learned about the yakuza community is that you guys are way too hung up over that scene in y4 where he pinned haruka to the ground then started panting really heavily , that didnt happen for me , that scene wasnt real to me i forgot about it.

[noxcheshire]

I go absolutely FERAL for this trope with Danny and Vlad.

It’s just so SCRUMPTIOUS, and then adding in Jason Todd as having once been Dan BUT NOT EVEN REALIZING IT?!

He’s a mama’s boy and he WILL get vengeance.

Danny himself had been looking for Dan for such a long time, furious at Vlad for his actions and the results that came from it. Dan was lost Ancients KNEW where, as a helpless baby! He kept the missing person’s report as active as he could because Dan was still out there, he was alive in some way for his soul and ghost had not returned to the Infinite Realms.

Dan was still alive.

He had to be.

And then Danny is visited by Jason Todd, a young boy so painfully familiar that Danny feels his core shake.

Dan, bound to a clone body and experiencing a relatively calm life with the Fentons, gets de-aged by a jealous Vlad and is held hostage by the man, who wants to be involved with family things. Vlad, somehow, loses the baby.

14 years later, Jason Todd is desperately looking for his mother, only for the DNA test to match him with a 30-year-old transman and a billionaire over 60.

Oh, and his own missing person's report.

[katsu28]

connection

pairing: max verstappen x reader

summary: when a holiday gala that neither you nor max want to be at brings two people from vastly different worlds together, you find out that you might have more in common with the four time world champion than you think you do. (3.6k)

warnings: swearing, creepy men (not max don’t worry)

a/n: day three with max :) somewhere along the way this became less of a holiday fic and more of me projecting onto my characters but fuck it we ball! 

You don’t want to be here. 

Truthfully, toting around trays of champagne flutes and painfully tiny hors d'oeuvres to fancy rich people is the last place you want to be on a Saturday night, but your friend had roped you into working this event with her and you need the extra money a holiday event pays, so here you are. 

You’re not even sure what exactly it is either. All you know is that it’s some gala for folks in a totally different tax bracket than you, and you need to be on your best behavior—which, you’ll admit, isn’t your strong suit.

Your loved ones would say your headstrong, take-no-shit personality is one of your admirable qualities, but you know they only say that because they know the real you. 

These people don’t. They don’t need to. All they need from you is whatever you’ve got on the silver platter you’re holding. 

You glide through the crowd like a woman on a mission, turning up the charm to an eleven to get rid of these beef tartare crostinis as fast as you can. 

It’s part of the job description, but apparently some of these old men think you’re throwing yourself at them. The amount of ass patting bordering on groping, and sleazy comments about how you’re young enough to be their daughters you’ve had to endure in the last few hours is astonishing, and not in a good way. 

What you want to do is slam them upside the head with your tray, but you can’t. So you grin and bear it, redirecting their leering as best you can without causing a scene. What a way to start the festive season…not. 

Soon enough you’re out of food and you’re glad for it, because it grants you even just a little reprieve when you return to the kitchen. 

“I swear to god, I’m gonna punch one of those old fucks,” You fume, having just pushed through the adjoining door leading from the ballroom. 

Your friend offers an amused snort from where she’s waiting on a refill of stuffed figs. “Yeah, don’t do that, probably.” 

“They’re disgusting.” 

“They’re entitled.” 

“Okay, so they’re disgusting and entitled. God, the nerve!” 

“Y’know what, maybe you should take your break now? Cool off a little bit before you rip someone's throat out and get us both fired?” She tips her chin towards your hands, and when you look down, your fists are clenched. You’ve got them clenched so tight your nails are starting to dig crescent shaped divots in your palm. Any tighter and you’re sure to draw blood. 

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s—I’m gonna go,” You mutter. You can’t afford to be dismissed from the event and lose out on the payday. The best thing to do is find somewhere quiet, somewhere you can be alone and settle your temper. 

-------

Max doesn’t want to be here. 

Truthfully, milling around shaking hands and making small talk with these people is the last thing he wants to be doing on a Saturday night, but he has obligations to fulfill, appearances he needs to make to cast Red Bull in an admirable light in this season of giving, so here he is. 

His suit is expensive but itchy, the starched collar of his crisp button up pulled too tight around his neck. What he wants to do is rip it off and go home to his cats, but he can’t.

So he grins and bears it, summoning all his years of PR training to get through the next few hours as best he can. 

“Max, there you are!” His press officer materializes right next to him, clamping a hand down on his arm. He bristles a bit at the sudden touch, but it soon dissipates as he realizes it just means he has yet another hand to shake and conversation to make. “There’s some people you should meet with. They’re from one of our smaller sponsors, but important nonetheless. Think you should have a conversation, find some common ground.” 

“Do I have to?” The question is a moot point, but Max feels the need to ask anyway. Just in case the answer has changed since the last time he asked. When all they do is fix him to the spot with a deadpan look, he sighs. “Yeah, heard. Lead the way.” 

Small talk comes easily to him at this point, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t mind numbingly boring listening to the two middle aged men go on and on about something Max couldn’t care less about. 

To the untrained eye, it would appear that he’s listening intently, feeding into their words with every carefully timed nod of the head. A chuckle here, a smile there. All the while, he’s itching to get away. The itch grows and grows and grows until Max can’t take it anymore.

He has to go somewhere. Anywhere other than here. 

Before he can second guess his gut feeling, he excuses himself quickly and expertly, making his way carefully through the crowd and towards the nearest exit. Another glass of champagne couldn’t hurt, so he snags one off a tray on his way out, sipping on it leisurely as he searches for a place to be alone. 

That’s how he finds himself outside in this open area looking over the water, somewhere completely empty and quiet, save for the slight breeze sending tiny waves splashing against the rocks below. 

Max sheds his jacket, undoes the first few buttons of his pressed shirt so he doesn’t feel like he’s being choked anymore. His chin tips towards the sky, eyes scanning the sky above. 

The moon is out in full swing tonight, hanging big and bright in the sky, illuminating the beautiful architecture around him. Max has always liked the moon. It represents success and fulfillment and power, but also has an element of mystery to it. He thinks that, in a way, the moon is kind of like him. 

He doesn’t know how long he stays here, just knows that he doesn’t want to go back inside. Finds himself dreading it, actually. Knows that inevitably he’ll have to make his return, but he’ll delay it as long as he can before someone comes looking for him.  

The sound of a heavy door creaking open draws his attention a little while later, and it makes him sigh. Looks like his time hiding out here is over. He pushes off the pillar he’s leaning on, ready to spin some half assed excuse, but then he hears it.

“Fuck!” You bite out, letting the door slam behind you. The empty area provides an echo to your dramatics. 

Max peers wide eyed around at the sudden expletive, spotting you across the way. So…definitely not his press officer. You’re already pacing back and forth, hands on your hips as you shake your head. 

He should say something, right? Announce his presence? 

He’s about to, but then you start muttering to yourself, something about old rich men thinking they can do whatever they want just because they have money. Colored by a plethora of choice swear words, you look and sound entirely pissed off. 

Probably best to leave you alone for the time being. He doesn’t know you, but he knows anger, and yours has a fire that almost rivals his. You’re also very pretty, but he pushes that thought aside for the time being. 

For the first time tonight, Max’s interest is piqued. Even so, he feels like he’s encroaching on something too personal, too private for anyone else’s ears. 

Maybe he can sneak away undetected? 

He doesn’t remember the champagne glass he’d set down until his foot hits it, and then it’s too late. Thankfully it doesn’t shatter, but the clinking against the cobblestones as it rolls away gives him up automatically. Your head snaps towards his general vicinity, eyes going wide with fear. 

Max imagines it’s probably scary for you to think you’re alone and realize that you’re not, and he’s not a monster. He has no choice but to step out from the shadows, raising a hand in awkward greeting. “...Hi.” 

“Jesus. Shit. Uh, I didn’t know anyone was out here,” You breathe, already slipping back into that carefully practiced professionality. Embarrassment and a little bit of shame runs through you at the same time as realization blooms of who this man is. Everyone knows Max Verstappen is, and you just cussed out his colleagues big time. Oh, you’re so getting fired. “Sorry you had to see that, Mr. Verstappen.” 

Max waves a hand in the air with a shake of his head. “Please, we don’t have to do that. Call me Max.”

It feels a little wrong to do so, but you oblige. “Right. Well, sorry you had to witness that, Max.” 

“Oh, that was nothing. Plus, god knows I’ve done worse.” Somehow, that doesn’t make you feel any better. Max steps out a little further into the light, stooping down to grab the rolling glass before it gets too far. “Is everything alright? If you don’t mind me asking.” 

“Does it look like everything is alright?” You shoot back, throwing your hands up into the air. Then you remember just who the fuck you’re talking to and you freeze. “Sorry! I am so sorry, I—” You take a deep breath, squeezing your eyes shut for a moment. Max isn’t who you’re mad at. This has nothing to do with him at all. “You didn’t do anything, I shouldn’t be taking my anger out on you. I apologize. Again.” 

Max feels his lips quirk into a smile. He doesn’t remember the last time someone had spoken back at him like that. It’s actually quite refreshing. “No need. Probably very warranted too. I’ve been told I’m quite a good listener, if you need to let things out.” 

“I shouldn’t,” You sigh, pressing your lips together. Max raises a questioning brow. “It would be extremely unprofessional.” 

“You’ve just caught me out here hiding from doing my job. I think we’re past professionalism at this point,” He snorts. He takes a seat on one end of the concrete bench nearest, tipping his head towards the empty space next to him. “The floor is yours.” 

You explain your situation as best you can without getting too heated again, half expecting Max to grow defensive of his acquaintances—they always do. 

It’s a pleasant surprise when he does nothing of the sort. Instead he calls them all assholes, along with some other choice words you won’t dare repeat. He apologizes for them, says he’ll do his best to remedy the situation, but you’re sure all it’ll do is make things worse if he gets involved. 

“So…that’s why I’m out here. What’s your excuse?” You finish, letting your shoulders drop. It feels nice to get all of that off your chest for once, and to someone who actually gives a shit. 

Max sighs, dragging a hand through his hair. It probably makes it stick up at all odd angles, but he can’t bring himself to care. “I don’t really like these things. Talking to people, making small talk—between you and me, it’s the worst part of the job. Not my thing.” 

“You like to do your talking on the track,” You supply. 

Max lets out a sharp exhale, leaning back against his palms to regard you with careful amusement. “You watch?” 

“No, but I think I’d have to be living under a rock not to know a little bit about it. About you.” 

“And…what do you think you know about me?” He tilts his chin up almost in challenge, as if he’s daring you to analyze him. 

Challenge accepted. 

“I think you’re lonely.” 

A surprised laugh escapes from his mouth. He certainly wasn't expecting it, but quite enjoys your forwardness. “Well, that was unexpected. Why do you think that?” 

“You’re untouchable. A four time champion, I’ve heard.” 

“World champion,” Max corrects, but not obnoxiously. It seems like a habit to add that distinction, years and years of hard work and dedication and training for the recognition. 

“World champion, my bad.” You nod. “Congrats on that, by the way.” 

“Thank you.” 

“Like I said, untouchable. You’re the best of the best, and I’d assume even though it’s nice to be regarded as so, it’s hard for you to know when people actually want to know you, or if they just want something from you. Hence…why you’re out here.” 

“Whoa. Didn’t know this was going to turn into a therapy session.” 

“Am I wrong, though?” 

“No. You’re right on the nose, actually.” He shouldn’t be admitting this. He’s supposed to maintain the image that he has going for him, but something about you makes him feel like he can trust you with his true self. 

You’ve drifted closer together without realizing throughout your conversation, shoulders brushing, knees bumping. Max’s pinky moves to brush over yours. You let it happen. 

He’s got really pretty eyes, you notice, steel blue staring right back at you. Piercing the careful facade you have to put up when working these events. Some people are charming, and you’ve learned to keep yourself a closed book to keep yourself safe. But Max feels different. Max’s interest seems genuine. 

It only intrigues you even more. You don’t know him, but you want to. 

Max clears his throat suddenly. “I should go,” He says. 

You wait for him to back away, to put some space between the two of you, but he doesn’t. If anything, he looks like the last thing he wants to do is leave. 

Part of you wants him to stay, but you know he shouldn’t. The same is true for you. He needs to get back to his job, and you need to get back to yours. 

“Me too,” You reply, taking careful notice to keep your tone from sounding too dejected. “Thanks for listening to me rant. I feel a little better now.” 

“I’m glad I could help.” 

You force yourself to climb to your feet, putting that distance between Max and yourself up before you have the urge to do something rash. A flash of your mouth on his zips through your mind for a split second. 

No. You can't do that. 

“Bye, Max. It was nice meeting you.” 

“Yeah. Nice meeting you too.” 

Now is the time for you to leave—one foot in front of the other, away from him, back to reality. 

“Wait!” He calls before you can get far. You turn on your heel like you were expecting him to say something else, waiting for him to reach you. He catches your elbow, squeezing gently. “What are you doing after this is over?” 

“Honestly? I was going to go home and pass out on my couch.” Max’s eyebrows pinch in the middle. “But I could be persuaded otherwise. Why?” 

“Would you want to get a drink? With me.” 

“Not really helping the lonely allegations,” You tease, smiling warmly despite your ribbing. Max rolls his eyes goodnaturedly.  “Yeah, I’d love to grab a drink. But I don’t get off until late, so it might be a while.” 

“I’ll wait.” His answer is immediate. Firm. 

“Okay. Okay, cool,” You say, fighting a smile. “I’ll find you after everything is over.” 

“I’m counting on it.”

The night flies by faster now that you’ve got Max to look forward to by the end of it. By the time you’re freed from the shackles of customer service, you don’t feel as drained as you normally do. You’re strangely excited to get to know him some more. 

You find Max waiting for you just outside the coat check, pretty eyes searching the dwindling gala goers until he spots you approaching. He smiles, nods his head in greeting.

“Hi. Everything alright?” 

“It’ll be better the sooner we get out of here.” 

“Let’s go, then.” 

Instead of a bar, he brings you back to his place. It catches you by surprise when he asks, but he assures you it’s more for privacy purposes than anything else, strictly two new friends sharing a drink and some more conversation. 

You’re not sure what you were expecting for a man of his financial standing, but a massive penthouse overlooking Monte Carlo makes sense. You do your best to tame your reaction, but it really is impressive. 

His living room is probably the size of your whole apartment, and that’s just what you can see right now. A pristine white couch sits in the middle of the room on an even whiter carpet in front of a sleek, top of the line entertainment unit, and there’s some sort of sim racing setup with a fancy chair nestled in the far corner near a wall of floor to ceiling windows. Surrounding the rig are a handful of trophies and racing helmets, each of them polished to perfection. 

Over in the far corner is a huge evergreen tree, decorated with twinkling lights and silver baubles. It looks extremely professional, almost staged, and the more you look at it, the more you’re sure he hadn’t been the one to put it up.

“What do you like to drink? I’ll make you something.” Max’s voice pulls you out of your gawking at his home. Your eyes snap over to him hovering next to a bar cart stocked with liquor, sweeping a hand along the bottles. Twisting your lips to the side in contemplation, you tell him your drink of choice and he smiles. “Nice one. I’m more of a gin and tonic kind of guy, but hey, to each their own.” 

You find your way to one end of the giant sofa not long later, aforementioned gin and tonic in his hand, your drink nestled in yours. “I did you, now you do me.” 

Max nearly chokes on his drink, brows flying high at your bluntness. “Sorry, what?” 

You look unphased. “What do you think you know about me?” 

Oh. Of course that’s what you meant. 

He takes a few beats to ponder your question, eyes squinting in thought. Then he fixes you to the spot with a decisive look. 

“I think you have big dreams. Changing the world, making it a better place—but you haven’t quite figured out how to do it yet,” He says, tilting his head. Your chest tightens at his words, because they’re true. “You’re going in circles, not able to figure out that one thing that’ll break the cycle you’re stuck in. I think once you do figure it out, you’re going to do great things. Big things.” 

Like before, somehow the space between the two of you has dwindled into nearly nothing as he looks at you so intently with those piercing eyes of his. You’re a little surprised by how on the nose he is about you, but it also makes sense. Max seems very observant. Perhaps it comes from being on the lookout all the time. 

“If the racing doesn’t work out, you might want to consider psychology,” You manage to say. 

He chuckles, nose scrunching. “Sure, I’ll think about it. Though I think it’s going pretty well at the moment.” 

-------

“When can I see you again?” He asks a while later, head lolling to face you lazily.

His hand has somehow found its way spread over your knee, nimble fingers tap tap tapping mindlessly. The first few buttons of his shirt have been undone, hair mussed from how often he'd been dragging his fingers through it.

Your drinks have worn off ages ago, but you still feel warm and fuzzy. Though you suspect it’s more from the man you’re with rather than the residual alcohol talking. 

You’ve been getting to know each other as the night goes on, swapping stories about your lives until you feel like you haven’t just met him a few hours ago. His are by far much more entertaining than yours, but Max seems to enjoy the mundane of yours. 

Part of you is surprised by his question. In your mind, you were expecting this to just be a one time thing. An easy way to fill a boring night, never to be thought about again. But Max does want to see you again. You don’t let it phase you. Instead, you raise an amused brow. 

“Why? You planning on kicking me out anytime soon?” You joke. Max’s fingers twitch, and he shakes his head. 

“No, I just—I’d like to see you again, is that so wrong?” 

“Not at all. I’d like that too.” You smile at him. “Though it is getting late, so I should probably head out anyways.” 

Max doesn’t push for you to stay, just nods understandingly. “You’re sure you’re okay to make it home on your own? Let me order you an Uber,” He says, digging his phone out of his pocket. 

“Yes, Max, I’m fine. And I can get my own Uber, thank you very much.” 

“Please, let me. I asked you here, the least I can do is pay for your ride home.” He seems like a very insistent person, so you sigh goodnaturedly, waving a hand for him to go ahead. When he’s done and a car is on its way, he turns to you, propping his chin up in the palm of his hand. “I had a nice time tonight.”

You scoff lightly, raising a brow. “I recall you saying something about how company galas are the worst part of your job.” 

“I dunno, this one wasn’t that bad.” Max shrugs, a fond smile playing at his lips. “I met you, didn’t I?” 

“Best night of your life then, huh?” You tease, winking at him. 

“It’s definitely up there.” 

“Too bad it’s ending soon.” 

“Too bad,” He echoes. He tilts his head, rubs at the smooth fabric of the sofa cushion just so he has something to do with his hand. “Looks like we’ll have to see each other again soon.” 

You have all the time in the world to unravel the mystery that is Max Verstappen, if he’ll let you. And judging by the way his hand inches towards yours until your fingers intertwine while you’re waiting for your Uber to come, he will.

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[lordprettyflackotara]

double fantasy || fred weasley and draco malfoy

SMUT MINORS DNI 18+ tw: please read bdsm kinks, choking, threesome, dom!draco, dom!fred, sub!reader, overstimulation, squirting, passing out, collar/leash is used, bondage, face fucking, gagging, slapping. this is one of my more bdsm extreme fics, please do not read if it makes you uncomfy <3

“I still think Ron would be a good pick.”

Fred’s voice was crisp as you rolled your eyes, sipping whatever butter beer mixture concoction he had created. “You’re only saying that because Ron doesn’t intimidate you,” You debated. You weren’t technically wrong, but Fred didn’t know your desired choice would be someone who did intimidate him. You adored Fred and every fiber of him. It was unlike you to desire more than just him, but a craving to be filled to the brim by two men was igniting a passion through your bones. So you both attended a Slytherin party, a noisy and uncontrolled affair. You could barely hear each other, nevertheless scope out a potential match. Fred was purposefully picking those he deemed to be ‘losers’.

After all he didn’t want competition, he wanted you to realize he was ultimately better and never want to try it again. But you were aware of your lovers inflated ego. Which is why when your gaze landed on the Slytherin prince, your lips curled upwards into a smile.

“I pick Malfoy.”

Fred spat out his drink, thankful his cup hadn’t stranded too far from his lips. “Malfoy? Have you lost your mind? Was there crack in your drink or something?” Fred asked. He dramatically grabbed your cup, examining its contents for any signs of tampering. “Freddie, just go up to him and ask. Worst he could do is say no,” You replied. Draco matched Fred’s energy in a way. Tall, assertive, dominant, and mean. You couldn’t ignore the way the thought of being between the two of them sent shock waves right to your core. Fred brushed his shirt off, shoving his hands in his pockets as he headed straight towards the snakes den. Draco was surrounded by his usual group, his eyebrows darting up at the sight of Fred approaching. The old childish beef the two had was long discarded, but that didn’t take away Draco’s distain for the whole Weasley family.

The war may have mellowed out the taunting, but nothing could reverse his father’s teachings. You watched Fred pull him away from the group, the two talking amongst each other. Through the spotty lighting you could make out Draco’s face going through a whirlwind of emotions. You wondered if this was a bad idea, contemplating if all of you being mature adults cancelled out any possible ridicule. You were surprised when Draco handed his muggle grass filled blunt back to Theo, exhaling as the two of them approached you. You tried not to appearance nervous, awkwardly setting your cup on a nearby table. Draco reached you first, staring down into your soul coldly. “I think this is a more private matter. Follow me,” He said. You trailed behind him, Fred following behind you. The pair were oddly quiet, as if they could read each others minds.

You swallowed as Draco led you both into his dorm, locking the door behind you. “Strip,” He commanded dryly. He seemed unamused as he dug a small velvet box out of his wardrobe. You chuckled awkwardly, trying to override the silence. “What?” You asked. Fred casually sat down in a nearby chair, man spreading as he did so. “You heard him, strip,” He agreed. Unsurely you followed suit, unzipping your dress and allowing it to fall to the floor. You stepped out of the shimmery material, stepping out of your heels as you did so. Draco glanced at you in his mirror, before scoffing. “Ditch the undergarments, you won’t need them,” He ordered. You felt goosebumps spread across your skin as you unhooked your bra, allowing it to fall to the floor. You noted the cocky smirk that was painted across Fred’s lips, watching your every move as you kicked off your panties. “Lay on the bed darling,” Draco said flatly. He seemed to be looking for something specific as he rummaged through his box of mystery.

You did as told, your back relaxing as you laid against the velvet comforter. Draco handed Fred a handful of rope, the two exchanging a nod as your boyfriend approached you. He grabbed your ankle first, tying it to the bed frame. “What’s all this about?” You asked. You bit your bottom lip in anticipation. Fred remained eerily silent as he finished tying you up, spreading you out like a starfish. “Fredrick here decided to let me know that you are such a whore you aren’t satisfied with one cock,” Draco stated. Your eyes widened as you watched him pull out a collar, a shiny chain being pulled out right after. “So I told him that I specialize in taming whores and you need intense training,” He said, finally turning to you. He undid his emerald green tie, the collar and chain in the other hand. “So here’s how this is going to work. I’m going to play with you, as roughly as I want to. And just when you’re about to break, Fred’s gonna come join us, understand?” He asked. You nodded, embarrassed of how much your core was throbbing with desire.

Draco wadded up his tie, crawling on top of you.

“Open your mouth slut.”

Any hesitation Fred had about the whole ordeal faded at the sight of you eagerly opening your mouth. Your pupils were blown with lust, Draco roughly shoving the tie into your mouth. He then ran his hands down your body, admiring the way you melted under his touch. His fingertips were barely grazing your skin, your back arching off the bed in an attempt to get closer to him. Draco roughly grabbed your throat, shoving you back down. “Behave or I won’t let you cum,” He growled. Fred licked his lips as his cock began growing harder in his pants. Draco lowered himself in between your legs, using his index and middle finger to spread open your folds. You whimpered under his inspection, the blonde admiring your dripping cunt. “Such a pretty pussy for a cock whore,” He murmured to himself. You felt heat rise to your cheeks as he smacked your folds, your arms and legs instinctively trying to close. He chuckled darkly as you struggled under the grip of the restraints.

“Nice and red now. I say we make them puffy, hmm?”

You moaned into the tie as he abruptly shoved two fingers into you, your wrists struggling against the restraints. He curled his slender fingers with precision, watching you intently as you grinding your hips against his hand. “So pathetic,” Draco mused. He lowered his mouth to your clit, causing a whole new feeling of pleasure to crash down over you. His tongue was an expert, flicking and his mouth sucking in all the right places. You wanted to clench your thighs around his head, to feel him against your skin. But he kept his distance, reminding you who was in charge as he devoured your cunt. Fred was purposefully watching in awe, refusing to touch himself until the time was right. If he was being honest he feared he would cum too fast to the pornographic sight before him. It wasn’t long before the knot inside of you tightened, your warnings muffled by the tie. Draco grinned in sadistic satisfaction as you came, your heart pounding as he pulled away from your cunt.

Mockingly he opened your folds again, shaking his head. “Not red enough,” He concluded. As if the two were able to read each other’s minds Fred rose from his chair, rummaging through the mysterious velvet box. He pulled out a black vibrator, nonchalantly handing it to Draco. The blonde was quick to turn it on, purposefully placing it on the highest setting. Your whines were muffled as he placed it on your clit, your thighs trembling at the sensation. “Awe what’s wrong darling? Can’t handle a simple toy?” He asked mockingly. Your eyes screwed shut, shocks of pleasure running up your spine. A sharp slap to your thigh made your eyes reopen, a stern look painted across Draco’s face. “Eyes open slut. You close them again and i’ll leave you here for Mattheo and Theo’s entertainment,” He snarled. You whimpered at the thought, your hips involuntarily bucking upwards and grinding shamelessly against the vibrator.

“Cmon slut i’m getting bored,” Draco sighed. He lifted up your folds, placing the vibrator directly on top of your abused clit. Your back arched off of the mattress, your legs shaking violently as you released. Juices you weren’t familiar with squirted from your cunt, your eyes wide as you panted. Draco smirked, looking over at Fred. “I say we ruin her now, what do you think?” He asked. The same mischievous smirk crossed Fred’s lips, the two approaching you. You were dazed as they rearranged you, your elbows and knees digging into the comforter. Draco removed the gag from your mouth, your lungs instantly inhaling as much oxygen as they could. A cold leather collar was secured around your neck, the sound of the chain rattling sending a shiver down your spine. You looked up, Draco glaring down at you. “Open up your mouth,” He barked. Fred yanked on the chain, forcing you to balance yourself on your hands.

Lazily you flattened your tongue out across your bottom lip, Fred’s familiar hands massaging the mounds of your ass. “Fuckin slut, wanting to suck another mans dick?” Fred spat coldly, slapping your ass. Your gasp was the perfect opportunity for Draco to shove himself inside of your mouth, your noise muffled.

“What a dirty cumslut,” Draco sneered, grabbing a handful of your hair. You whimpered at the pain, feeling Fred slide into you with ease. “You’re this fuckin wet? Over being used and abused? Filthy,” Fred growled. Tears flooded your waterline as Fred bottomed out, the ginger not hesitating to repeatedly thrust into you. Draco grinned sadistically as he began his own fun, forcing your jaw to go slack as he face fucked you. As Draco abused your throat Fred yanked at the leash, restricting your airway. You felt light headed, drool dripping down the sides of your mouth as both boys spat degrading profanities. You couldn’t breathe, your vision becoming spotty. Unable to tell them you arched your back, fully leaning onto the collar for support. Your head began to spin, the feeling of another orgasm rising quickly. It didn’t take long for Fred’s warm cum to fill your cunt, or for the taste of Draco’s salty cum to flood your throat. Their strong hands kept you upright, your body shaking as your final orgasm sent you into an unavoidable darkness.

The unlikely duo stared down at your unconscious body, a thick bruise forming around your neck from the collar. Your cunt was red and puffy, full of Fred’s seed. It dripped down your thighs as you peacefully slept, your body spent. It was satisfying in a way, seeing you so content after destroying you. “We should do this again sometime,” Draco said, redressing himself. Fred shot him a dirty look, putting his shirt back on. “Are you suggesting you fuck my girlfriend again?” He asked.

Draco brushed stray hairs out of your face, his caring expression mirroring Fred’s.

“Maybe. But she wants me just as bad. We can make it her perfect double fantasy.”

[neonovember]

Oh my GOD oh my for okay though that new fic you wrote with Carmy? 12/10 chefs kiss mwah mwah MWAH!! 💕💕💕 That part with Carmy going ballistic and beating the shit out of that asshole customer I LOVED it!! Now it’s got me thinking of Carmen going absolutely feral, just insane if he’s in the kitchen cooking and calling orders, while you’re out front taking orders from customers. He and the rest of the kitchen just go silent and stop in their tracks when they hear a guy just screaming at the top of his lungs at you, using the absolute most vile words against you and Carmen just sees red, especially if whoever it is ups and yells something along the lines of “You stupid fucking whore-“ and Carmen’s just a blur as he POUNCES on this guy. (Richie’s either cheering him on or trying with all his strength to claw Carmen off before he straight up kills the guy)

Office Doors

Oooh you guys are spoiling me rotten with these requests…I love a good feral fic every once in a while and this one was..well you'll know what i'm talking about once you've read it ;) I haven't written Carmen in a day and I miss him already, school has been up my ass so if you have sent me a request, don't worry it's being written, and re-written and-. Thank you anon for getting my gears going and your lovely messages 🥰🥺 ur support means the world

warnings: swearing, objectification and misogyny, angst, oral (f recieving), smut, thigh riding (?), porn with plot, feral!carmen

carmen berzatto x reader!

(This is totally and completely canon btw)

You stretch your body across the diner tables, dipping a dirty cloth into lukewarm soapy water before rinsing it out. The lunch rush had just slowed to a even pace, the sound of Carmen yelling out dishes from his line finally quieting down.

You have just a little time to spare, and you spent that time quickly wiping down the Beef’s tables that had begun to accumulate a few too many stains and unfinished crumbs of bread.

You had grown up in a home that was always messy, all the time. And no matter how much times you had asked, and no matter how much times you had just done the chores themselves, the clutter of dirty dishes and old wet clothes in the laundry had permanently been embedded into your family home.

It’s partially why you had loved the sterile laboratory of you culinary kitchens. Clutter caused your skin to itch with anxiety, it made you feel dirty, and with the way you scrub the diner tables a little too hard you wonder if it's another one of the many joy’s your family had given you.

And whilst the Beef was so different from your environment back in culinary school, it wasn’t necessarily worse. In fact, you had grown to fall in love with the quirks of the kitchen, the ‘fuck you carmen’ napkin holder, the too small walkway, the framed pictures of beloved regulars and the staff’s families. Most of all, however, was the family you had built here, the kind you couldn't find working under a domineering CDC.

The kind that had always been waiting for you, been planted deep into the earth like roots.

Besides, you and Carmen had bonded together during the late nights after most of the family had gone home. Were you both were left, scrubbing the floor together in a rhythmic silence that seemed to be more therapeutic than work.

You’ve nearly finished wiping down the last of the stools perched against the counter top of the front when a loud guffawing causes you to break your trance-like state.

Jovial yelling breaks into the rarely quiet restaurant as the door swings open, and a stream of rowdy men dressed in pullovers and fleece jackets, with scarves and basketball hats of distinct sport team colours wrapped around their necks.

One man is fully decked out, sporting the jersey and beanie of what seemed to be a hockey team. The boom of his voice indicates he was the loudest too, unaware of the grumble of patrons around the restaurant that had grown annoyed at the man's violent rambling.

You breath out a sigh, finishing off wiping down the bar stools and putting the bucket of dirty water under the front counter. Before ironing out any creases in your apron and preparing yourself for the absolute headache this would cause.

They were a familiar bunch, usually coming in after games late after the dinner rush. It seemed there was a game during the early morning, as they grumble about not having anything to eat the entire day.

Their loud and annoying and swear too much and Carmen hates the way one of them looks at you but they order a shit ton of food and fuck if the bear needs money, what can you say.

Your eyes glance at a cup of coffee Richie had accidently left under the register, and you suddenly crave your afternoon pick me up well after the afternoon. The men begin walking up to the register, ignoring your polite greeting and going straight into listing off items from the menu as if you were a machine. You nod along all the words they were saying, and soon enough you give up on writing it down as they’ve practically ordered the entire menu safe for a few appetiser's. 

“Make it quick, yeah? We’re bloody starving '' One of the men calls out from his seated position in one of the booths and you give them a tight lipped smile, resisting the urge to throw that coffee mug at him. 

Carmen peeks his head from the entryway leading to the kitchen, his unruly ashy blonde curls falling to the sides as he shares a look with you,  as if to say ‘you alright? And you nod in that unspoken way the two of you have and tell him that you can handle it. Working in a kitchen didn't have to teach you how to deal with assholes, you had your family to thank for that one again.

You hear the familiar sound of Carmen shouting out orders, and the sizzle of pans and boiling pots increase in order to push out the lengthy order before more foot traffic would pour in. 

You’re trying to fix the register when it happens, something gets caught in the old janky machine, causing the cash drawer to get stuck as you have to hit its sides at a certain angle to get it to open up again. Years and Carmen refuses to get it fixed, or buy a new one all together, resorting to having it taped up and banged every couple hours to get it working again.

You almost don’t see him, until he is leaning against the counter, into the space between the cash register and you, a greasy smile pulling at his features and he watches you. You bite back a grimace at the way his eyes trail down your apron, fixated on the dip of skin that peeks from the top of your shirt.

“Something you need Sir?” You ask politely, taking a tentative step back, your hand gripping the edge of the counter.

The man smiles strangely at your comment, cocking his head to the side before replying suggestively

“I definitely want something”

You cough, biting back your knee-jerk response to hurl at him, you can feel the burn of embarrassment against your cheeks and you swallow as you try to reply with a steady response.

“You’re food will be out in a short-while-” 

“You know, I think I’ve seen you around here, are you new to town?” The man tries to strike up a conversation

“Came here a few years ago and haven’t left since” You reply with a tight smile

“Ah! I know where you're from exactly now” The man replies with a grin that pulls his face upwards, it's eerie, his smile, like he knows something he shouldn't.

“There’s this porn star online, looks exactly like you, it’s kind of insane” The man replies with a smile that deepens as you stammer

You feel humiliated as you stare back at him, you don’t know what to say, and his eyes continue trailing down your body in a way that makes you feel disgustingly objectified. He’s reduced you to an object for him to gawk at, and you see the way the men behind him jeer and laugh that this is all a play to intimidate you.

You want to run straight home and scrub yourself clean, wash away the feeling of his imprinted gaze down the drain.

“You think we can recreate one of her videos when you get off work here?” The man replies, a glint in his eyes.

“What? You- you” You stammer and he breaks out into a laugh

“Awh, look at her, fucking shaking. Don’t tell me this is your first time?” The man eggs on to his friends, who have begun laughing and cheering him on.

You grit your teeth, trying to get the words out as you glance towards the kitchen, where was he? He leg twitches in want, wanting to get Carmen, wanting to run from the restaurants, wanting to run from the embarrassment and disgust you felt.

The flashes of Richie and Syd passing by is all you can see, the booming voice of Carmen being too wrapped up in the orders to notice what was happening.

“C'mon, just give me your number” The man presses on, leaning in so that only you can hear “It isn't like I don't know where you work” Before he leans back, muttering a halfhearted kidding under his breath

“You are disgusting” You spit out, trying to sound as confident as you can, and the mans eyebrow twitches, and he cocks his head like he was confused.

“What? I’m doing you a favour here, I'm actually a nice guy you know? Not one of those assholes on the street” The man scoffs, moving closer towards you and you have a feeling the man is waiting for a reason to lunge at you.

“Just, just take your food and your buddies and go alright? There doesn’t have to be a fight or-or” You continue, trying to de-escalate the situation and get him to just leave you the fuck alone.

“Are you fucking kidding me? I’m doing you a fucking favour and now your kicking me out?” The man begins to get heated, and his friends behind him watch on in silence, you can notice other customers begin to look your way, sensing the rising anger filling the room. You slowly step back, looking for something to shield yourself in case he comes at you.

“What, you think because you work you have some- some what, control? I don't think you know how this works doll, you give me your number, and I dump my load in you because your nothing but a stupid fucking whore” The man bellow, it’s so loud that it echoes through the Beef, that it reaches even the kitchen sinks where Manny is washing up. 

The man’s face grows red as the veins near his neck begin to pop out, he emphasises the last word, spitting it out like that was all you were.

The restaurant goes silent as the man heaves in exertion, the sound of Carmen shooting out orders is mute now, the slice of steel against bamboo stops, and the bear is fucking quite for the first time since it opened. 

Your body is pushed against the wall, near the swinging doors into the Kitchen, and you can see Carmen back to you, he has stopped cutting at his station, and the outline of muscle contracts under his white shirt.

Carmen turns, slowly, he turns to the family, as they all momentarily stop their tasks in shock at what they had just heard. He begins to chuckle a little to himself, as he replies in a quiet voice you and the man can still hear.

“What did he just say?” 

“Did he really say that? Did he really?” Carmen laughs to himself, nodding and gripping his hands into tight fists as the restaurant air gets thin. The man who had been screaming at you looks towards Carmen in confused fear, not knowing why this man was laughing and yet understanding he had completely fucked up.

The rest of the patrons can hear Carmen’s words, eyes widening, as they realise they were about to be collateral to a very one sided beat down. The crew looked at Carmen in silence, they had been used to Carmen's hot-headed temper, his bursts of anger that was more passion than rage. But this? This quiet silence of Carmen’s words, the way his chest heaves as you glances at your frightened position against the wall? They genuinely feared what he would do next, a silent rage like no other begins to envelop the restaurant, the air thin and suffocating as Carmen begins to walk through the kitchen and into the front counter.

“Don’t call an ambulance this time” Carmen mutters to Richie as he passes him by, Carmen’s eyes are fixed on you, trailing down your body before fixating on the shake of your hands. Carmen knows you well, and it’s the clench of your throat, like you're suffocating, like you can’t breath that snaps something in Carmen.

A malevolence Carmen has never felt spills into his gut, the burn of anger spreading against his chest until hes practically shaking with it, he is filled with this heart ache, like his heart is split in two and gushing as he realises his been cutting fucking chives whilst you nearly died. 

And something predatory fills Carmen, like he must prove to himself he can protect you, and in one swift move, like muscle memory etched into his bones, Carmen jumps over the front counter and swings his fist in one clean motion, knocking the man across the room.

The man’s body crumbles as he slams into the hardwood floor of the Beef, the immediate groan of twisted pain and pleads leave the man's mouth and Carmen is just so sick of his goddamn voice. 

It all went quiet then, the noise of Sydney yelling, of his friends, of the man’s heaving wet coughs, the air conditioner, all white noise. Carmen’s hand reaches for his ankle, dragging him back from his crawling escape.

“Oh, no no no, we’re not escaping now are we?” Carmen grunts, his voice lower than it usually is.

Carmen  wraps an arm around his throat, holding him there as he brings down his fist across his face. The wet sound of bones crunching into muscle and skin go on forever, bouncing across the room until the throaty heave of the man is all that is left of him. Carmen cannot stop the swing of his fists, something possesses him and as one of the men in hockey colours tries to grab Carmen arm he throws him back into the stack of barstool's piled near the tables. He is facing his back to you again, and you state, fixated on how his body moves to support him, the contracts and outline of his strong back, his large forearms that break bone with a mere swing.

His face swollen beyond recognition, piss and blood leaking from him, eyes bloodshot and awry. 

Carmen picks him up by his collar, the smudge of blood dripping down and staining his vest, whispering into his ear as the man’s eyes widen in harrowed fear.

“Apologise”

“..Whatnhn?” The man mumbles, the feel of his tongue swelling up and going numb, Carmen presses a hand against the man's bruised stomach, pushing  against the broken bone of his ribs until the Man wails in agony. 

“Apologise to her or I swear to god I’m breaking your fucking legs” 

The man spits out an apology, but you’re not looking at him, staring transfixed at Carmen,  at the way he’s golden curls fall across his eyebrows, at the way his muscles flex against his white shirt, at the way droplets of blood are splattered across the skin of his jaw. Carmen looks towards you, and something dark takes over his cerulean blues, blowing them out.

“Do you accept? Huh honey?”

You nod, letting an exhale out and Carmen tosses the man to a pile on the floor, reaching for your hand and dragging you to the office, you can hear the scatter of shoes as the men drag their friend out of the beef, and the crew looks towards each other in satisfaction, but also in knowing, in knowing they wouldn't dare open those office doors.

The soft glow of the office is a stark difference to the bright light of the front counter, and you have to blink a couple times for your eyes to adjust, and when you do Carmen’s face is inches from you, leaning you against the office doors, his arm above your head.

The soft glow of the office is a stark difference to the bright light of the front counter, and you have to blink a couple times for your eyes to adjust, and when you do Carmen’s face is inches from you, leaning you against the office doors, his arm above your head.

“You didn't- didn’t have to” You mumble, your voice caught in your throat for a different reason.

Carmen looks down at you, shaking his head in amusement

“Don’t lie to me, you enjoyed that more than I did” Carmen whispers, leaning down near your ear, pressing his nose against the curve of your neck.

You let out a breathless sigh, and Carmen groans as he smells that familiar  vanilla always hinted on your skin Carmen could smell when you passed by you. Now, now, he can practically taste it right on his tongue.

The truth was, you did enjoy it, despite being non confrontational and cringing every time Richie would show you a fight where the crunch of bone on gravel makes you shudder, you were transfixed by Carmen. 

By the way he broke the man to a heaving mess with just his fuckinf fists, those same arms that are edging closer and closer to you, how would they feel between your thighs? The thought wraps itself tight in your belly, and you have to squeeze your thighs for friction.

No one had done that to you, no one had done that for you, and in a strange way it felt nice to be protected. To be wanted, and it causes a need to start building deep within you. 

Carmen's eyes fall to you, and his eyebrow twitches as a look of guilt washes over his features.

“I should’ve been there, I- fuck, did he do anything? Let me get a look at you” Carmen replies softly, grabbing your wrists to look for any bruises he feared you had.

“I’m fine, just a little, uhm, shaken up you know? Said some pretty horrible things” You reply, scratching at your neck as your mind replays the way he had reduced you to a thing.

Carmen shakes his head, his teeth grinding as he grips his fists, his biceps flexing. 

“You shouldn’t have to deal with that, deal with people like fucking him, I swear to god if I find him on the street I’m gonna-“

“Gonna what? Finish off the job? There is always going to be guys like him, that isn’t going to change, and it’s something I have to deal with. But what I can’t deal with is if you get yourself thrown into a jail cell because of-of me” You reply, shaking your head and Carmen looks at you like he’s in love.

Gripping a hand to your chin, Carmen raises it so that you catch the burn of his cerulean blues as you can see.

“And That would be an honourable death for me” Carmen mutters, and you can’t take your eyes off him, until you're gripping his blood stain shirt tight against your chest until the suppression groans leaving his mouth are kissed into your neck.

You want him, want to taste him on your tongue, want to feel his weight against it. 

“Fuckin come here” Carmen groans out, reaching to wrap his hand around your jaw as he presses his lips against your own. The muffled of your moans escape your lips and Carmen slips his tongue between them. 

His pillowy soft lips wrap around your own, his nose bumping into your cheek as he wraps an arm around your back, pushing you against the office doors. It’s all teeth and tongue, the clash of teeth and muffled groans leaving the both of you. 

The suppression of both your desires falling between you two until you don’t stop to come up for air. 

It’s addicting the way he kisses you, and you have to grip his shoulder as an anchor as he begins to trail his lips down your neck, sucking and nibbling at the skin there before dipping down to your clavicle. 

You let out a moan as he blows cold air against the dip of your breasts, and Carmen looks down at you, his eyes heavy as he watches the way you shiver, waiting for him to give you what you want.

Carmen rips open your shirt, his eyes trailing across the curve and dip of your breasts, he mutters something under his breath, something like “beautiful” as his finger trailing the lace before unclipping it and tossing it behind him. 

Carmen cups one of your breasts, circling your nipple before wrapping his lips around it and sucking, you arch your back to him, and he follows it until he rests and your hip, squeezing the skin there as his eyes roll back at the taste of you.

“Please..” You groan out, your eyes watching the way Carmen pressing soft circles into your skin, he looks up at you in confusion, the hint of a smile curving at his lips.

“Please what?” Carmen replies, sucking bruises beneath your tits, drawing it out on purpose, having too much fun watching you suffer.

“Nmfha” You mumble incoherently when Carmen flicks his tongue around your nipple, whilst squeezing the other in his cold hands.

“I can’t hear you, what do you want?” Carmen replies with a hint of a moan, he’s having trouble himself, bucking his hips up into you as he watches the way you shake from his lips

“Wanna feel you Carm, wanna taste you” You groan out with a moan, Carmen grunts at your response, his eyes growing dark and heavy, and in one swift move, he hoist you up and swipes the coffee mugs and papers left scattered across his desk before placing you on the edge.

You spread your thighs, making room for him and he steps between them. 

“You wanna feel me sweet girl? You want me to take care of you? Please let me take care of you” Carmen pleads, rutting up against you as he tries to suppress the want pressing tight against his jeans.

“Carm” you groan out as Carmen tugs your jeans down leaving you in your lace underwear that Carmen grinds his jaw at, you don’t realise it but Carmen blue apron is discarded somewhere in the room, and as he carries you towards the coach you tug at his white shirt. 

He rips it off him in one move, and you drag your fingers across the deep of defined muscle that flexes under your touch.

Carmen moves your thighs so that you're pushed towards the edge of the couch, and he kneels between you, pressing a soft kiss to your knee, before trailing up your thighs. Carmen had been teasing you before but now there is a frantic eagerness in the way he touches you, like if he doesn’t taste you on his tongue he might combust.

Carmen hooks a finger into your underwear,pulling them down until you were bare for him. Carmen’s eyes glisten as he states at you, naked under him and sweating. God the image imprints in his mind and he wishes he can stay here forever.

Carmen presses a soft kiss to the inside of your thigh, and your thighs shake in need, Carmen flicks his eyes up to you, and keeps eye contact, as he licks one long strip across your folds, closing his eyes and he groans at the taste of you. You contort you back at the pleasure the waves through you, eyes rolling back at the pressure of his tongue sucking your clit.

“Fucking- taste so” Carmen mumbles, before dipping his tongue between your folds, dragging it up and down, the sound of your heightened moans ripping through him. 

Dipping his tongue in your hole, Carmen pushes a finger between your thighs, presses soft circles around your clit as his tongue works your folds. Your thighs shake around the curls of his head and he pushes a hand down at your stomach to stop you from moving, making you take every wave of pleasure he pulls from you.

“Carm, please, they’re going to hear us” You groan out, and Carmen shakes his head, causing his tongue to drive deeper into you, before looking up at you, 

“Let them” 

Carmen stretches you out with his tongue, pushing it into you and out until your heaving, his thumb is pressed against your clit, and he pushes a finger into you before sucking onto your bud. 

You begin to see flashes of stars, as he thrusts a finger into your hole whilst sucking you, he scissors you open, curving his finger in a way that hits a particular spot that has you raising your hips, trying to pull yourself off of him, the white hot burn of pleasure getting too much.

“There baby? Right there?” Carmen groans out, thrusting his finger to hit that spot over and over

Carmen grips your hips, pushing you down, deeper, harder onto his mouth and fingers, pressing a second digit into you as he curves it to pull that sweet moan from your lips.

Carmen had many names, but his favourite was the broken syllabus of his own between your lips when you fell apart on his tongue.

“S’ close, so close Carmy, please” You babble out, before resigning yourself to the burn of pleasure the feels like fucking nirvana, it’s all around you, Carmen, this pleasure, it’s all you can taste.

“I know baby, I know, I’m going to take care of you okay, sweet girl?” Carmen groans, thrusting his hips into the floor, searching for friction as he watches the way your eyes roll back.

Carmen laps at your core, pushing the digits deeper, curving them upwards until you were screaming, he pushes your face down to look at him, he wants to see your face as you fall apart, and the coil that has begun to wrap itself tight snaps when he nibbles at your over sensitive clit and you see the way his dark eyes watch you, his eyebrows furrowed and your slick coats his chin.

You can’t feel anything but the white hot pleasure that rocks through you, you aren’t in your body, floating away in the pure saccharine pleasure of Carmen’s tongue and he laps at the pleasure dripping between your folds. 

You mumble incoherent words, the only thing leaving your lips is Carmen’s name as you babble, spit dripping from your open mouth as you're left in a heap, Carmen leaving you dumb.

Carmen works you through your release, licking and sucking at your sweet slick that he gathers on his tongue. You see the way he thrusts into the carpet, trying to find friction as the scene in front of him becomes too much.

The thought splits something within you, seeing how Carmen got off to getting you off was out of this world, causing the pleasure to start building in your core again. 

You drag Carmen up to meet your lips, and then push his tongue between your lips, causing you to taste him on your tongue. Carmen pushes his finger between his lips, sucking on the shine of slick coated there, his eyes heavy as he watches the way you grind your hips against him. 

He pushes his digits into your mouth, groaning at the way you suck on them eagerly. You push him to lean his back against the coach, before manoeuvring your hips to straddle him.

You rock your hips against his jeans, feeling the way the indent pushes and bumps against your core, Carmen throws his head back, his curls falling over his forehead and he grabs your hips, pushing you deeper, down down down until he is thrusting up into you.

You grip his shoulders raising your hips before pulling his jeans and boxers down in one swift motion. Carmen forces himself to look down at you, his gaze watching the way you tug at his length, swiping a thumb across the red tip, dragging pre cum down the thick girth of him.

Carmen groans out, gripping your hips tight, and you raise up, lining yourself perfectly before sinking down on him.

Carmen’s groans are beautiful, rumbling from his chests as he squeezes his eyes shut, you fit so perfectly around him, the heat and warmth and slick of you wrapped tight around his cock. His length is thick and girth, and you have to adjust to his size, moaning at the way he fills you up just right.

As you begin to move, Carmen presses a hand, begging for you to wait

“Just, one second, fuck you feel so good I might cum from one thrust” 

“Who says this is a one time thing?” You reply with a wicked smile, and Carmen groans loud at that.

You raise your hips, dragging your self on him before sliding down, your grind against him and he heaves in the pleasure of your tightness around him. 

It had been so long, and the feeling of you is almost too much. 

You struggle to raise your hips high enough, and Carmen wraps his hands tight around your hips before raising you himself, driving himself up into you and thrusting hard.

This new angle allows him to go deeper, and you meet his upward thrusts, groaning out as he fucks you dumb. You look gorgeous above him, the way your tits bounce with every thrust up has him hard all over again.

“Just like that baby girl, keep going, doing so fucking well, my baby” Carmen groans out, and you begin to shake at the combination of his praise the the feeling of his cock driving into you impossibly deep.

You want to make him feel good and you say this to him, causing his eyes to roll back when you squeeze yourself around him, hard, until his thrusts have to drive into you even harder.

The coach freaks loudly from Carmen’s pace, and he slams you down, positioning his cock deep into you, causing you to press half circles into your shoulder, scratching at his biceps and gripping the nape of his hair that causes him to rumble out your moaned name.

You can feel him getting close, his thrust growing sloppy and deep, you tighten around him, and his eyes are in a trance, watching the way you fit around him so perfectly.

Carmen moves to fold himself upright against you, and your eyes roll back to your head as you feel yourself climb up a familiar peak.

Carmen presses a hard kiss against your lips as you groan out, and as he slips a hand into your conjoined bodies, circling your clit you have to shove your fist into your hand to stop from screaming.

The feel of Carmen’s length driving into you and the sound of his ragged moans, mixed with the over stimulation against your clit, you can’t help but fall apart around his cock.

You squeeze yourself tight around Carmen, and he cries out, his thrusts growing slow as he joins you over the cliff, his cock thrusting up into you with spasms. His cheeks are a blush red, his tongue poking out as he follows both of your orgasms.

You fall against his chest, exhausted, pressing your cheek so that it rested against the hard muscle of his pecs. You swallow back a breath, gripping your hand around Carmen’s, as he brings it up to place a soft kiss. 

Your thighs are still shaking from stimulation, and Carmen caresses a hand across them, rubbing soft circles and you lay across his chest.

You stay like this for a moment, basking in the bliss of pleasure and sex and the soft curves and dips of your bodies.

After a bit, Carmen has to slip his out cock from your thighs, eyes fixated on the way your ecstasy mixed with his one drips down your thighs.

“Fucking gorgeous” Carmen replies, and you look up at him in surprise

“What? You don’t think I'll find you gorgeous after this?” Carmen smiles down at your flustered state, he brushes back the sweat and tears dripping down your cheeks.

“That was..you are. Well fuck, Carmen, why didn’t this happen sooner?” You reply, he manoeuvres you so that your legs lay across his thighs.

“Yeah, uh, we’ll I’ve got a whole bucket of shit you don’t want dragging you down” Carmen replies scratching his neck, suddenly more shy as he lay his heart bare to you.

“Yeah, we’ll you gave me no choice when you practically murdered that man” You reply, biting back a smile, as you press soft circles around his thumb.

“Should’ve fucking murdered him…”

“What happens now?” Carmen replies, looking at you nervous that this was you just scratching an itch, because he was head over heels in love with you and he would never recover

“God Carmen, you didn’t realise I’m in love with you already?” You reply with a smile, “Practically the entire restaurant does” 

Carmen looks up at you in wonder, his eyebrows furrowing as your words hit him hard. You loved him? You loved him. He wants you to repeat it a hundred times, he wants to hear your tongue say those words to him again.

“You are incomparable” Carmen mutters under his breath, before wrapping you tight against his chest, pressing a kiss that feels different now, less crazed and rushed and fueled by heated passion. It was new, it felt like a start of something.

“You think they’re okay out there?” You reply with a start.

“Hell no” Carmen replies, and you can’t help but laugh as you push your head through a shirt Carmen had passed to you.

You and Carm may have just confessed your love to one another, but you still had a goddamn restaurant to run.

[nestaians]

that post reminded me; nesta did in fact work in the cabin

nesta chopped wood, cleaned the dishes and probably cooked for them or least help in the kitchen

bc it was mentioned feyre does not know how to cook

but it is not seen as work by feyre, who shared about their life in cabin from her pov nor inner circle question it

they all make it seem like nesta and elain did nothing, like feyre hunting was the start and the end of any kind of work and feyre alone took care of them when they were in that cabin

they literally act as if all nesta and elain did was spend feyre’s money on luxuries

which is a lie bc feyre had an attitude about her sister wanting to spend money on new shoes bc the old ones was completely worn out and had holes in them

let me make it clear: feyre chose to go hunting

it has never said “nesta made her do it” and nesta is only like 2-3 yrs older than her, she was a child too but everyone is quick to forget that

in the beginning of acotar we see nesta try to look out for feyre and feyre had an attitude about it

if u have multiple siblings it makes sense why nesta is more everything of and with elain than feyre when you read their early acotar scenes. u are obviously going to be closer to the one who is accepting

it was their father who should be blamed but nesta is held accountable and blamed, till this day, for his failure as their parent

feyre painted him but not nesta. not until she “got better” srs words fail me on this

inner circle are a group of 500yrs old with all the knowledge in the world and they don’t see how stupid they are?

holding a grudge and beefing with a 20-21yrs nesta, who -in their world- is just a baby, over feyre choosing to hunt. what a bunch of pathetic losers

there’s something sad yet makes sense about nesta’s character is that she never argues or tries to prove that she did in fact work when they shit on her

feyre listening to mor’s story and the horrible things she went through and feyre immediately thinks “i get why rhysand can’t forgive nesta” as if they are anywhere near the same thing!

feyre is such a nasty person for it, for how she made nesta out to be again and again, you can’t change my mind, she is

to make it worse bc i can, before feyre went back for tamlin, she and nesta were better, in a way

feyre and nesta talked, feyre learned nesta knew she was taken and that nesta went to wall for her. nesta supported feyre and what she wanted to do

and after feyre was turned, when she was with rhysand, she undid all that progress by making nesta seem like a selfish person who does not care about her

feyre was also nasty for saying her sisters only cared about money and social standings

who knew you were taken and risked her life in the middle of winter to go to the wall for you? who supported you and your love for a fae? nesta! she cared about u!

who brought you paints? elain!

is feyre resents them for not doing more then she should just say so

feyre made it worse by bringing 3 faes, who humans fear for very good reason, into their house and let one of them invade nesta space, insult her and parroted feyre’s views on their life in the cabin

there is obviously more things like feyre constantly making nesta do things she does not want to do and making her be in presence of men she does not want to be in but that isn’t related to this topic

feyre has to sets things right, she set nesta up for failure in the eyes of her new family and now wants nesta to be a part of that said family that does not like her nor are quiet about it

nesta and feyre’s relationship is never going to actually heal without feyre taking accountability and apologising. it can’t be just nesta, it shouldn’t be just nesta who has to do it

nesta did work in that cabin. nesta did look after feyre. nesta did care about feyre

feyre wasn’t alone in looking after them, nesta and elain did too, they just had their own different ways of doing it

feyre had thoughts about her sisters marrying off and then it just being her and their father and she can paint, but then who would cook? who would chop wood for fire and keep them warm?

the reason they survived in that cabin bc they had each other. they did it together

but it’s not seen like that by feyre’s pov, by inner circle, by most of the fandom

nesta deserves better

[kleftiko]

❦ FAMILY MEN

ft. aizawa, hawks, bakugo, dabi

HAIKYUU VERSION | BLACK CLOVER VERSION

—aizawa

your daughter looked up at eri as she taught the younger girl how to style hair clips and accessories. your daughter was just over a year old, curious about things but not good with coordination, so eri enjoyed being the big sister and teaching her all about fashion. and who was the model for her cosmetology lessons? none other than your husband, shota. there was nothing his girls couldn’t get away with, so he sat patiently as he graded work on the floor as they tugged and pulled on his black locks. every once in a while there was a wince or grimace on his face because they weren’t that gentle, but he didn’t say anything. you silently laughed watching them from across the room, thinking that you couldn’t have chosen a better man.

—hawks

the habitual babbling of your little boy rang through the kitchen. you looked up at the clock because you knew your boyfriend would be coming home around this time. it seemed your son was starting to get a sense of time by figuring out when his dad came back everyday. and just as planned, the front door flew open, and a rush of red flew in front of you, straight to the highchair as keigo lifted your son. the air was instantly filled with giggles and kisses as the hero greeted his pride and joy. for a minute you were an afterthought, going back to your work until he gave you a few sweet kisses in greeting, son still in his arms.

“can we have a girl next?” he asked and you smiled at him sarcastically.

“can i have a ring?”

—bakugo

you heard him shouting from the other room.

“don’t put that in your mouth! give me that!”

your daughter babbled in the same tone right back at him. despite not knowing how to speak yet, she gave her dad the exact same amount of attitude that he dished out. you were curious and apprehensive to see when she grew up.

“don’t talk to me that way!”

“katsuki!” you called. ��keep it down.”

your husband emerged from the room, holding a freshly changed daughter on his hip who was muching happily on a clean diaper.

“she started it.” he grumbled and you rolled your eyes at his beef with an eight month old. “anyway, i—ow, shit!”

your daughter had bit his shoulder, obviously preferring her dad over the diaper.

—dabi

“i’m home!” you called but got no reply. you kicked off your shoes and went searching for your boys, only to find them in your bedroom. both were napping on the bed, dabi curled his body around his son as if to protect him from the world. your little boy had one hand grasping his dad’s shirt tightly, the other grabbing at dabi’s mouth, some fingers having pulled his lip down a bit. your heart melted at the sight, and you immediately sighed. your instinct was to curl up with them and hold them, but you couldn’t bring yourself to disturb them so you just watched fondly for a couple minutes before dabi’s eyes naturally fluttered open. he blinked a bit before noticing you.

“if he doesn’t get his hand out of my mouth i’m burning him.”

“toya, no.”

[ahllohehn]

HERMITS AND THE OLYMPIANS MASTERPOST (07/31/2024)

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Hermits and The Olympians/Emperors of Olympus is a Hermitcraft/Empires SMP based Percy Jackson AU based off my art and headcanons!

(Please do not use the tags for other PJO AUs as I use them to specifically label what's based off mine.)

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Seperated by art/doodles, headcanons/discussion, fanfics:

# 1 MUMBO PORTRAIT # 2 GRIAN, PEARL, SCAR & MUMBO ART # 3 HaTO FAN CREATION GUIDELINES # 4 GEM, CLEO, DOC PORTRAITS # 5 ETHO & BDUBS THANK YOU CARD # 6 STRESSMONSTER THANK YOU CARD # 7 CAMP EMPIRES FIRST APPEARANCE; BAD BOYS DOODLE # 8 OUTDATED CAMPERS GODLY PARENT SUMMARY # 9 CHIBI MUMBO THANK YOU CARD # 10 GRIAN CLOSE UP # 10.5 WATCHERS CAMEO??? # 11 BDUBS & SCAR; DEMETER CABIN'S HONORARY CAMPER # 12 RENDOG PORTRAIT # 13 MUMSCARIAN / RE: AU SHIPS # 14 IS THERE A CANON PLOT? Answer: I stick with what is canon to me, but I do not force others to follow so. As I am too lazy to do an actual plot. # 15 CHIBI STRESS & MUMBO # 16 BDUBS..? # 17 ETHO PORTRAIT / 1ST AU FICLET # 18 I JUST THINK THEATER KID ARES KID REN IS FUNNY # 19 JOEL AND LIZZIE; SOULMATES IN EVERY UNIVERSE # 20 ORACLE GEM...? # 21 oh snappers! (LOW QUALITY ETHO DOODLE) # 22 AT THIS POINT, DIONYSUS, ARES, AND APOLLO SHOULD FIGHT TO THE DEATH TO SEE WHO GETS CUSTODY OF REN # 23 SKIZZ & IMPULSE PORTRAITS / HEADCANONS # 24 ZEDAPH PORTRAIT

# 25 Camp Oracle’s Journal; Hermits and The Olympians # 26 GRIAN - THE DEATHLY ACTIVITIES MANAGER # 27 ISKALL & TANGO PORTRAITS # 28 KERALIS & XISUMA'S PERSONALLY MADE CAMP PIN # 29 I REALLY LIKE MAKING FUN OF REN /AFFE # 30 I ALSO REALLY LIKE INCLUDING MARTYN INTO THE MIX /AFFE

# 31 TREEBARK ARE MY BOYFAILURES # 32 RENDERED CAMP LOGOS (PNGS IN DISCORD SERVER) # 33 SHELBY & SCOTT PORTRAITS # 34 ETHUBS MY BELOVEDS :) # 35 INTRODUCING: GIGGS # 36 RE: CAMP EMPIRES AND CAMP HERMITCRAFT DOUBLES # 37 LET OLD MEN BOND LIKE OLD MEN (ETHO & TANGO) # 38 OFFICIAL HaTO DISCORD SERVER ANNOUNCEMENT # 39 MYTHICALSAUSAGE PORTRAIT # 40 XISUMA PORTRAIT # 41 HaTO FIRST COMIC SHITPOST # 42 FALSE, KERALIS, & BEEF PORTRAITS # 43 WELS & HYPNO PORTRAITS # 44 MUMSCARIAN FIRST MEETING DOODLE # 45 WHY IS WELS AN ATHENA KID? # 46 HOW IS GEM THE ORACLE # 47 HaTO SECOND COMIC SHITPOST (PRIDE MONTH) # 48 DESERT DUO ANIMATIC; INSPIRED BY BEAN'S TRAITOR SCAR FIC

# 49 MARTYN PORTRAIT / HEADCANONS # 50 IF SCAR WERE TO BE APHRODITE'S.... # 51 REN VS JARS # 52 LIZZIE PORTRAIT # 53 HaTO SCAR & GEM EMOTES # 54 HaTO CHIBIS BOUQUET DOODLE # 55 GRIAN AND HIS SON # 56 KATHERINE ELIZABETH PORTRAIT # 57 MUMSCARIAN MATCHING ICONS FOR PRIDE # 58 HOW ARE YEAR ROUNDERS GETTING EDUCATION? # 59 SHINY DUO MATCHING ICONS # 60 AROACE PEARL (PRIDE MONTH) # 61 BISEXUAL CLEO (PRIDE MONTH) # 62 CAMP CUDDLE SESSIONS # 63 TREEBARK COMEBACK # 64 When Does a Man Become a Monster?; Hermits and The Olympians

# 65 BOAT BOYS MATCHING ICONS # 66 WHAT DOIN'? CAMP HERMITCRAFT EDITION # 67 "I'M A CHILD OF DIVORCE" GESTURES TO ETHUBS # 68 MORE ETHUBS HEADCANONS CUS IM GAY AND SO ARE THEY # 69 DO NOT ANGER THE NON-ZOMBIE WOMAN, MR. ETHO # 70 NATURE WIVES # 71 I COMPLAIN ABOUT THE HEPHAESTUS CABIN'S ABILITIES # 72 TREEBARK MATCHING ICONS # 73 OLI PORTRAIT & HEADCANONS # 74 IT'S NOT ME IF THERE'S NO ETHUBS # 75 WELCOME TO HERMITCRAFT: GRIAN TEXT ADVENTURE # 76 GEM'S ORACLE CAVE TOUR

#77 THE BOYS (+ GEM) GO SHOPPING FOR SUITS #78 PEARL CHARACTER CARD #79 Camper Files; Hermits and The Olympians #80 STRESS PORTRAIT #81 CUBFAN PORTRAIT #82 FWHIP PORTRAIT

#83 PIXLRIFFS PORTRAIT #84 RANCHERS #85 WHY DO I HAVE SO MUCH TREEBARK IN MY INBOX? #86 IDK HOW SAD I'M SUPPOSED TO MAKE SCOTT #87 LONG TIME, NO NATURE WIVES? #88 AREN'T WE ALL A LITTLE SILLY FOR GRIAN SOMETIMES? #89 I HOPE YOU ALL KNOW I JUST BE SAYING ANYTHING ATP

# SECOND MASTERPOST LINK

OTHER HaTO Related Links:

HaTO Roleplay Blogs Masterpost by gem-the-oracle HaTO Archive of Our Own Series HaTO Discord Server

[zombiefiilm]

It’s Cold Out Here

Spencer Reid x fem!reader

summary: spencer reid has just the plan to keep you warm in the car while you wait for a suspect

warnings: some mentioned with the unsub, classic cm type violence mentioned, no use of y/n, nsfw - 18+ only, making out, car sex(ish?), fingering, handjob, male oral, getting interrupted

word count: 2.1k

When you agreed to wait outside the suspected unsub's house with Spencer Reid, you did not expect it to turn into a several-hour stakeout.

You had pulled up just around the corner from the old house that looked like it was rotting from the inside out, with a perfect view of the front porch from where your black car sat, expecting the man who lived inside to leave the house to find his next victim and allow you to follow him.

His victims were all over the place, young and old, men and women, various financial status'. It just hadn't made any sense from the start and there was barely any bones to the profile at all, the only thing you all knew was that he was a man, likely between the ages of 30 and 45, who had a comprehensive knowledge of the human body and that he was somehow able to take his victims from public places in broad daylight. There didn't seem to be any sexual behaviour in these killings, the unsub killing each victim with a single gunshot to the head and cleanly taking out a different organ from each victim.

The only reason you even had a suspect in the first place was two witnesses stating that they had seen a blue Volvo Sedan that seemed to have driven off in a hurry from the locations the victims were being taken from at a similar time. Thankfully, one of the witness statements had included a partial plate, which Garcia was easily able to track down.

Prentiss and Reid had knocked on the front door earlier in the day, hoping to talk to the unsub with the premiss of him being a witness, but to no avail, the door never opened and with every curtain drawn, they had no visual of inside the home either.

Eventually, the plan had become to wait out the unsub, to follow him and pounce once there was any sign of suspicious behaviour, but it was taking significantly longer than expected.

Since the BAU had landed in Missouri, the unsub hadn't made a single move. While it was fortunate that there had been no more victims, it made it quite hard for you to get closer to finding out who he was. Through his patterns though, you were hoping that tonight would be the time for him to find his next victim.

You had gotten to your spot at around 4pm, Spencer driving and you in the passenger seat, and the blue car was still parked in the driveway. You set yourself up, expecting to be waiting for 4 or 5 hours maximum, but as the clock hit 11pm, alongside the command of staying at your 'stakeout' spot until someone walked out of that front door, you knew you were going to be in for the long haul.

Armed with a box of ritz crackers and beef jerky, you both indulged in the most depressing meal you had in a while.

"One of us should try get some sleep and the other can stay awake and watch, just so we're not both out of our minds tired tomorrow" you told Spencer, wrapping your jacket tightly around yourself, attempting to battle the cold air in the car.

"You can sleep first, I want to read through the files again, see if we've missed anything" he brushed a stray hair out of his face as he reached around to the back seat and grabbed one of the thick folders.

"Alright" you replied, tilting your seat back as far as it could go and wrapping your arms around yourself. "Wake me up in an hour".

"Got it"

"Night Reid" you closed your eyes, desperate to get some rest.

"Night".

You weren't sure how long you had been asleep, but you woke yourself up with your own shivering. The car had somehow gotten even colder in the time you were out. You groggily rubbed your eyes, turning around to see Reid engrossed by what he was reading.

"How long was I asleep?" you sat up, still shivering.

Spencer looked over at you, and then down at his watch. "About two hours".

"I told you to wake me up" you hit his shoulder, "you need to sleep too".

"I'm fine, plus you've been complaining about not sleeping well since we got here, you needed it"

You smiled at him, a little giddy over the fact that he was showing how much he cared about you.

You sat up fully now, taking another folder from the back of the car and opening it up. You knew you wouldn't be able to get back to sleep and there was no point in trying.

As time passed, you hadn't even noticed that your teeth had started clattering with the cold.

"Are you okay?" Spencer asked, putting down the papers in front of him. "You've been shivering for a while".

"Yeah, just really cold" you answered simply, glancing up at the house again to see nothing had changed.

"You can have my jacket" he quickly shrugged it off "I run hot".

"Are you sure? I don't want you to be cold either"

Without answering, he just leant over the centre console, and wrapped his jacket around your shoulders but stopped when his face was right in front of yours.

It felt like an eternity where you both looked into each other's eyes without a single word. Right as he went to sit back in his seat though, you grabbed his arm to stop him. You weren't even sure what your plan was but you just knew you wanted him to stay that close.

Neither of you were unfamiliar with looking at each other like that. with longing looks across the office and always sitting across from each other on the jet, it was quite clear to everyone on the team that you both felt like more that coworkers.

"I do know another way to warm you up" he gave you a bashful smile, looking anywhere but your face.

"And what's that?" you whispered, the words almost getting stuck in your throat.

He briefly looked into your eyes, and then down to your lips. You took that as your sign to lean in, gently pressing your lips to his. He almost seemed taken aback, but he quickly kissed you back, opening his mouth and slipping his tongue into your mouth.

The kiss was gentle, warming, as his hand slowly trailed from your knee up to your inner thigh. You wouldn't have expected him to be this forward, but before you knew it, his large hand was resting right over your heat, through your jeans.

He broke away from the kiss, both of you panting lightly "Is this okay?" his question was genuine as he waited for your okay before doing anything.

"Yes Spencer, please, please touch me" you hadn't expected yourself to be so desperate but the thought of his slender hands down your pants had you squirming in your seat.

The smirk that planted on his face at your desperation would be stuck in your head forever. He quickly unbuttoned your jeans and helped you tug them down to your mid thigh, quickly followed by your underwear.

The moment he saw your cunt, he practically moaned to himself, making quick moves to touch you. His fingers slowly gathered up the slick from your slit before his finger gently caught on your clit, making you jolt.

"God, you're so wet already" he whispered to himself, lifting his finger up to the light to get a good look at your juice on him. He moved his hand back down again, this time gently circling your clit.

His movements had you falling into him already, long forgetting about the freezing temperature of the car, your head resting on his shoulder as his finger travelled down to your hole.

He slowly slid his finger inside and you gasped quietly, the way you were already clenching around the single digit had Spencer rutting into the console he was leaning over.

Pumping in and out of you, he quickly added a second finger. You couldn't help but moan in his ear, your attempts to keep quiet waning as he began to curl his fingers, hitting your g-spot right on.

"H- holy shit Spence" you whined, as his fingers perfectly moved against your spongey walls. With your verbal reassurance spurring him on to please you more, he began to circle your clit with his thumb, in time with his quickening thrusts of his fingers.

All of his moves seemed thought out and calculated, like he was studying every single one of your reactions. He pressed his lips against yours once again, his tongue licking into your slack mouth in time with the movements of his hands.

It only took a few minutes before you were a mess, gentle whimpers slipping from your lips, your hips desperately jerking against his hand, desperate for your release, your hands gripping onto his forearms for stability.

As soon as he added a third finger, you knew you were done for. You squirmed in his hold as his fingers sped up, the slick sounds of your cunt filling the humid car as the coil in your stomach tightened.

"God- Fuck Spence, please, I'm gonna"

"Go on, cum for me, please" he groaned, his thumb circled faster around your clit as he pressed his own hips harder against the car, desperate for some form of release.

It was as if your body obeyed his words, seeing white as the pressure in your stomach released.

Your hips jerked into his hand as you came down from the high, Spencer's fingers still pumping in and out of you to help you ride out your orgasm.

Once you finally came down, you feverishly kissed Spencer, desperate to taste him again. You whined into his mouth as he pulled his fingers out of you, quickly missing the feeling of being so full.

As you separated again, Spencer placed his fingers in your mouth, making you taste yourself on his fingers. Once you licked his fingers clean, he pulled his hand back and kissed you again.

"God, you taste so good" he muttered, sloppily kissing you. It was then you noticed his shifting, desperate for stimulation on his cock.

"Let me help you now" you pushed him back into his seat, palming the crotch of his trousers.

He looked up at the door of your potential unsub, ensuring that he was still inside the house before giving you a nod. You desperately unzipped his trousers, pulling them down just far enough for you to pull out his cock.

You quickly pulled his erection out of his boxers, practically drooling at the sight. God.

The tip was red, precum smeared all over his tip, and it was big in every way.

You eagerly wrapped your hand around him, allowing a glob of your saliva to fall onto his tip before you pumped your hand up and down in small movements. You periodically swiped your thumb over his tip, spreading the pearly white liquid around.

Spencer was gripping onto the car door at your movements, his knuckles white as he desperately attempted to stop himself from bucking his hips into your hands.

Then, you decided you desperately needed to taste him. You leaned down, gently taking his tip into your mouth and swirling your tongue around it.

Spencer, in that moment, thought he had died and gone to heaven. He couldn't stop the moans from spilling out from his mouth.

Then, you took pushed your head down as far as you could, tickling the back of your throat as the hair at the base of his cock just-about brushed against your nose. Spencer was on the verge of biting through the skin of his lips to stop himself from fucking your face.

You moved your head back up before taking him entirely in your mouth again, but then Spencer tapped your shoulder and began to lift you off of him.

"The door, the door" his words stopped you in your tracks as he rubbed some of the condensation off of the windscreen in front of him. You got off of him, straightening yourself up in your own seat and pulling up your pants as he tucked himself back into his own trousers.

"I'll get you back" you half whispered as he started the car "later".

You could see him blush lightly as he started to follow behind the unsub. Maybe getting stuck in a car with Reid for 10 hours wasn't such a bad thing.

[milessunflowers]

Hello! Um... lestappen (they aren't together, not because they don't want to be but because it doesn't feel right) being happy about seeing their shared crush again after not seeing him because he decided to go to nascar only for him to switch to formula 1 for 2025 because he accepted the offer the new team gave him and because he missed them too. (Feel like lestappen doesn't tell reader that they have been in love with him since f3 because they thought he was straight, male reader thought that max was straight and charles was bisexual leaning to women and also didn't tell them he was in love with them)

Also! Love everything you've written so far! Love the franco, paper rings, fic its my fav so far!!!

–🍑

thank you so much peach!! that motivates me so much!! also this idea *chefs kiss*

max verstappen x male!reader x charles leclerc

synopsis: when you finally make your debut back in the world of formula racing, max and charles come to terms with how much they loved you, leading to you finally confessing.

author's note: okay so after some practice, i am now comfortable enough that i can write well enough for a driver!reader. for purposes, cadillac will already be a team and reader will be american AND LOGAN IS HIS TEAMMATE BC I SAY SO (miss my american sm😔) EVEN IF IT IS ONLY BRIEFLY MENTIONED. anyways, feel free to request, read the guidelines first ofc! (also apologies for the lack of dialogue in this one. i kinda forgot how to write good dialogue and kinda just let things flow! felt right for the vibes to me idk)

formula one, a true dream come true for you. you had raced in earlier formula series, alongside the likes of now four time world champion, max verstappen, and ferrari golden boy, charles leclerc. you hadn't seen them in a few tears as you had been busy racing in nascar, dominating the tracks at almost every track. you missed them, more than you would ever admit.

when you first heard that cadillac would be joining formula one as a brand new team, you felt sparks of hope erupt deep in your chest. maybe, just maybe, you would finally get the chance to race against your once competitors (and the two men who were your first real crushes).

you hadn't expected to be approached by your manager with a multi-year deal with the american team. without a second thought, you signed immediately, ecstatic that you could prove yourself to those you grew up racing, not including your all-time hero, fernando alonso. you couldn't keep in your excitement, which was clear to everyone in your immediate circle, including your new teammate and mentee (who in reality is a year younger than you), logan sargeant.

when it was revealed you were to be racing for the newest addition to the paddock, max and charles had almost the same reaction: joyful nervousness. they realized all to late the feelings they harbored for you.

but now... now you're back. it was exciting and terrifying for the two men, who have grown accustomed to only really seeing each other and never acknowledging those feelings.

to say that you were all big fat chickens was an understatement.

the first time you reappeared in the busy paddock, charles felt his heart jump to his throat while max just felt frozen. in ways, they each thought you looked better, less stressed and more mature. you seemed genuinely happy, especially in what they always called your natural habitat. you were a social able person after all.

they struck up small conversations during the driver's parade, mainly catching up and swapping jokes. it reminded you three of the old times, even if max and charles back then had some sort of beef. it made you feel even happier and more excited to be back and racing in the formula series.

it took a good few races before the three of you finally shared a podium. you would have never expected to feel more excited about p2 then now. in the cool down room, you chatted heartedly with max, awaiting for the winner to finally arrive. once the three of you were together, it was nothing but subtle flirting and chatter until it was time to go to the podium. even there (save for during monaco's national anthem as well as the italian one ringing) the three would not shut up.

it wasn't until the after party at the club where the three of you drank half of your body weight, confessing with no shame to each other. you couldn't remember the night, having had way too much to drink after celebrating your first podium of the season.

when you awoke the morning, you were in an unfamiliar hotel room, a warm weight behind you. you groan awake, blinking as the morning sun shone bright through the curtains, bathing yourself, max verstappen, and charles leclerc in a beautiful golden li-

wait, max and charles? you sobered up real quick and scrambled out of bed, falling with a loud thud in the process. you curse yourself, trying to grab whatever shirt was closest and pulling it on.

charles was the next one awake, stirring on the farthest side of the bed where he had curled around max. he blinked those beautiful eyes awake, a soft smile gracing your lips before you snapped out of it.

this couldn't be happening. you were half panicked, half happy to have woken up with the two men you had secretly loved for years but never, in a million lifetimes, would have ever thought were anything but into you. charles rubbed the sleep from his eyes, not yet having caught on what was happening. you stood there dumbly, still as a statue as you both finally made eye contact.

you chuckled awkwardly and charles let out a surprised yelp, loud enough to startle the last man asleep awake. you stared at each other for a good, long, ten seconds before max broke the silence with a cough before he sat up, as if all this was casual. it was very on brand for the dutchman.

it was quiet again, charles blinking blankly while you scrambled to collect your belongings. max stops you, sits you back down on the bed, and tries to calm you and charles down. and for some reason, it was too easy for him to.

he was gentle and sweet, carefully explaining what was going (or at least what he thought) before he finally comes clean, opening up about his feelings. after that, it was easy for you and charles to do the same, just in a slightly less organized and calm manner. it was no longer awkward but sweet and caring, soothing each nerve in the three bodies to a nice, warm hum.

you offered to make breakfast while max and charles cleaned up. from then on, it had become routine. from the hotel stays in different countries, to moving into the same apartment in monaco now overrun with pets. it was healthy and well established, the three of you keeping things strictly business at work but at home, leaving raving behind for a nice night in with the lobes of your life.

TAGS! (if you would like to be added, lmk!)

@op-81-lvr-reblogs, @koalapastries, @justaf1girl, @ghostking4m

[hippielittlemetalhead]

Never Took The Time (To Forget) part 4.2: Robin's Boy

A.N: Life is kinda sucky right now with job hunting, surviving at my current job, the strains that come with being a caregiver to a family member while maintaining a long distance relationship and just dealing with mental and emotional self-care. So here's this, super late and not beta-read but at least I wrote it.

As always, feel free to yell at/with me in the comments, tags and/or ask box.

Part 1 (Hop fucks up), Part 2 (Pride and Prejudices: Joyce's Edition), Part 3 (One of Us), Part 4.1 (With a Capital 'P'), Part 5 (Man Of The Hour)

There's not much that surprises Robin Buckley these days. She gets queasy at the sight of ground beef, the big friendly dogs a few doors down at the O'Reilly place make her blood run cold, she can't watch the old Russian movies her dad loves without having nightmares after and she's sleeping with a nightlight for the first time since she was six. But it takes a lot to surprise her.

Seeing the declared dead Chief of Police step out of a sleek black, obviously-secret-government-bullshit car flanked by an agent she recognizes as one of Owens' lackeys from last July when they were making the rounds with Government funded medical care contingent on signing sketchy NDAs? Just par for the course at this point.

Steve's face when Eleven-Jane rushes into the not-dead Chief's arms and it turns into a whole 'Moment'? Said Chief's look of barely interested confusion followed by tired annoyance when Steve drags her in front of him, rambling about Starcourt and new additions to The Party and finally getting to meet 'My Hop'? Yeah, none of that surprises her either. She plays along for Steve, doesn't give Hopper any time to say anything that would take that happy smile off his face or get rid of the way he's practically glowing he's smiling bigger than she's ever seen directed at anyone other than the kids. Tries not to think about the way it makes something in her clench and crouch like a cat getting ready to pounce and bare fangs she didn't realize she had outside of a life and death situation. She introduces herself, maintains eye contact and drags Steve off as fast as she can to do something, anything, that will distract him from trying to catch up like the Byers clan is with the kids and assembled assorted monster fighters.

She's not surprised when she can't stop Steve from stepping up every time Hopper or Joyce or anyone with a badge says they need anything despite his own still healing wounds. She's not surprised when Hop takes it a step too far.

They're at the Hopper Cabin that is steadily becoming the Hopper-Byers Cottage when Hop tells his and Joyce's shared custody bald parasite that Steve is little more than an annoyance he puts up with for the free babysitting service and manual labor and cause he can go up against shit that would give anyone else nightmares while keeping the kids safe and mostly in-check. She's sitting with Eleven-Jane, sewing patches onto one of Hop's old army jackets, (the kid had seen Eddie's battle vest in Steve's car and it had reminded her of her sister Kali and she'd decided she wanted one of her own for the war ahead and then all of the other rugrats had decided they did too so she and Argyle had taken to giving sporadic sewing lessons whenever the kids had the materials to start their own battle attire) when Steve comes round the corner to the back of the property striding with purpose she rarely saw when he was around his kids.

She leaves her unfinished project on the stump she'd been using as a stool and chases after him. She shooes off curious and worried kids, promising to stick with him, keep the walkie close and on, make sure he was safe and didn't run afoul of any demo-beasts or trigger-happy government goons as he made his way to his car and then wherever else he was marching his happy ass.

She hates the fact that when they're both finally back at the little apartment that Owens' yes-men had acquired for Steve when Harrington Sr. decided to be an opportunist prick and kick Steve out for 'not taking care of the house' in the middle of the 'earthquake', that Steve hasn't shed a single tear. She hates that she's not surprised.

He doesn't say anything as he kicks off his Nikes and shuffles over to the 'second-hand' couch they'd gotten from Mrs. Henderson (Steve and Robin were both fully aware she'd just gotten it shortly before Spring break and was in no way in need of a new one so soon, but they both also knew better than to call her out on her kindness). He doesn't look up at her from his spot curled in amongst the throw pillows and blankets they'd been gifted by parents of various members of the party after Hopper and Owens' story that the two of them had saved the kids again from some freak incident like last year with Starcourt. She pulls out the thick quilt they had found in the latest donations bins when Hawkin's government supervised relief force started outsourcing for supplies and basic comforts. He stares at the wall where they'd hung an oversized corkboard dedicated to polaroids and photo booth strips and even some properly printed pictures of the little monster fighting family they'd put together.

She can't pull him out of this, no matter how much she may want to. There's some places his mind goes only Eleven-Jane would be able to reach and neither of them were going to put more on that girl's plate. So she puts on a Bruce Springsteen record she used to hate and curls up as close as she can to him through the quilt and pillows. Every now and then she gets up to get them both water, to grab some crackers to try and coax him into eating and to switch over to a new record or just flip the one on the player but she always comes back to her spot next to her Steve.

"Whatever he said to you, you know it's not true. Right? You're worth more than a dozen undead cops on a power trip." That gets an amused huff.

"Seriously Stevie, the kids adore you, I swear all the moms in Hawkins think you're the best thing since sliced bread and I don't know what I'd do without my personal chump. We're soulmates, remember? One of these days we're gonna mind meld like Spock and McCoy and we'll be unstoppable. I can't make it without my McCoy, Bones."

"I can't make it without you either, you hobgoblin. Thanks Bobby."

The next day is better. Steve is still a little quiet, a little droopy. But he's present and there's a simmering anger underneath his smile that Robin is proud to see him acknowledging but makes her worry about him as he ushers her into his car to drop her off on her rare lone shift at Family Video before he heads out to a quick 'consultation patrol' with some military special operatives to check out something weird by one of the new cracks.

No one had told any of the kids yet, about the cracks starting to spread out in smaller fissures like a slowly spreading infection. Hadn't thought it necessary with Steve and Nancy (both now legal adults and wasn't the government taking full advantage of that) there as a first line of communication while Joyce wrangled a restless Hop as he settles back in and heals and spars with Owens over payouts and government aide for the town and what the growing military presence was and wasn't allowed to do. With the parents occupied the kids had come together tighter than ever, focusing on their injured and recovering from the nightmare fuel that was their spring break. No one noticed.

She can't help the rant she falls into as they drive through checkpoints and past regular civilians being escorted through areas a little too close to a Gate for comfort. She goes on about how half of the soldiers act like Steve is just one of them and the other half treat him with the same cautious curiosity they do Eleven-Jane whenever she makes her way to the 'front lines' these days. She wants to get the weird boy-speak head nods too! Even Nancy gets them, especially when she's walking around with her sawed-off strapped to a jerry-rigged hip-holster. Robin has used Darlin' before, she's speed poured Molotov Cocktails to hand to soldier boys trying not to piss their pants as Steve and Nancy barked orders as they tried to down a demogorgon fresh from the Upside-Down. Where's her battlefield camaraderie?

It makes him laugh and shake his head fondly as he calls her crazy and weird with that soft smile on his face that makes her chest feel warm and fuzzy like her parents' hugs used to when she was 10 and crawled into their bed after having a nightmare. She doesn't tell him to be careful as they turn down onto Main street or to make sure he comes back in one piece as he rolls to a stop in front of the dark storefront. She starts on another tangent about him abandoning her to the drudgery of Capitalism as he gets to frolic in the woods with a bunch of burly men with their toys before he laughingly reaches over her to open her door to start pushing her out of the car. He smiles big and dopey as she practically spills onto the asphalt, still rambling away about neglectful soulmates and abuses of driving power with smatterings of claims that she'll take over his apartment if he dies and use his ashes as fertilizer for the plants he's taken to keeping on the fire-escape outside the living room window if he dares to leave her alone to babysit his hellions.

He shoots back a final, "Love you too Bobby!" before taking off towards where he's meeting the scientists and soldiers he's supposed to lead through Upside Down infected woods. As he leaves her standing on the sidewalk he doesn't make any sort of promise to be safe, to let the government goons just do their job, to make it back to her alive or in one piece. Not even to make it back to her. She plays with the locket she's taken to wearing that holds a curled up braid of hair shades darker than hers or anyone's in her family.

She doesn't watch his car to the end of the street like she might have before Spring Break, after their Starcourt 'adventure', instead she takes a deep breath and unlocks the dumb video store in this dumb town full of dumb people who don't know when to call it quits and just get the hell out of Dodge. She boots up the computer leaving it to warm up while she starts sorting through whatever mess the new shmucks Steve insisted they hire to cover what times the two of them couldn't because of the Arcade (which they had also gone and hired more staff for now that people weren't one tremor away from rioting in the streets) and Upside Down/ government related shenanigans they ended up getting dragged into.

The bell above the door jingles and she has to bite back a groan. "Welcome to Family Video, I literally just got here so you're gonna have to give me a minute before I can help you."

"Afraid we've only got movies round here, officer. You want any other medium of entertainment I'd suggest the arcade or the distribution yard." She won't turn to face him, not sure she can keep her cool if she does right now. Her hands move on muscle memory, shuffling papers into their proper piles and flipping open VHS cases to check if they need to be rewound. "Sorry, guess we'll have to catch up another time."

"I'm uh, I'm not here for a movie." She may have only heard his voice a couple of times and in passing but she didn't call her ears little geniuses for nothing. She forces her body to relax, lowering her shoulders the way Steve taught her to and keeping her voice light like Eddie walked her through, calling on his Theatre Kid skill set to teach the Party how to convincingly lie improvise when being questioned by people who really did not need to know just what was going on in good old Hawkins.

She can hear him sigh and can't help but picture his hand running over the fuzz on his head the way Steve runs his hands through his coif more and more nowadays in a way he never did before Nancy, before he got pulled into this bullshit and Hopper was rumored to be the one signing his paperwork and taking responsibility for him when his parents didn't show up after an almost week long stay at the hospital. "Look, I know you don't like me. And it has been brought to my attention just how much I fucking earned that. But I- I need your help here. To fix it."

There's not much that surprises Robin Buckley these days. She gets queasy at the sight of ground beef and meatloaf covered in ketchup, the big friendly dogs a few doors down at the O'Reilly place she used to pet and give snacks to on her way to and from school make her blood run cold, she can't watch the old Russian movies she and her dad used to stay up late watching together without having nightmares after and she's sleeping with a nightlight by her bed for the first time since she was six. But it takes a lot to surprise her. Jim Hopper might have just done it.

She doesn't stop moving, doesn't want to give him the satisfaction of throwing her off. She fiddles with the sharp little knife she has tucked up her shirt sleeve in the little sheath she and Steve put together between shuffling papers, taps at the button on her vest hiding the mic attached to the walkie talkie that never leaves her pocket these days. When she finally turns to look at him she's not surprised by the thinness of his frame or the way his eyes and cheeks still look a little sunken in. She sees the tired father worried for his kids and his people and his town, angry at the government for their involvment and their stupidity that she had come to expect. She is not expecting the remorse, the fear, she sees looking back at her. She wonders for a moment what he sees when he looks at her, at any of the teens and kids and young adults he's fought alongside trying to stop the end of the world.

"Fine. He'll be back from his patrol-" He looks mildly confused for a moment, meaning Joyce hadn't been passing along even the minimal information Nancy and Steve had been giving her to relay to Hop and the rest of the Party. That would have to be it's own discussion at some point probably. "-in about twenty minutes. You have fifteen. Now why should I help you?"

"You care about Harringt- Steve. You're close, the two of you have been basically Siamese Twins since Starcourt from what I hear. I- I realize that I made a mistake dumb enough shitting Mike Wheeler is making more sense than me, that I fucked up in a way I don't fucking know how to fix. And I am asking. Politely. For your help."

Honestly she's not sure she believes him. Honestly he's surprised her more times in the last five minutes than most anything or anyone else has in the last year. The man has a lot to unpack and the situation with Steve is just a drop in the man's pile of shit he's managed to bury himself under but maybe there's some hope yet.

She checks the watch on her wrist (an obscenely expensive piece Steve got from one of his parents' rich friends at a holiday party he was too young to remember on a leather band that he had outgrown and never got around to replacing) and looks back at Hop. Ten more minutes. "Why are you here?"

Hop groans in that growly sort of way that makes her think of her grandpa Dale, a great bear of a man who had given the best hugs with shoulders to put Jim Hopper to shame. The no-longer-chief runs his hand over his fuzz again, one hand propped on his hip as he shifts his weight to one side and she tamps down the flicker of biting anger at another example of the ways Steve had shaped himself after a man who never gave him the respect or care he deserved.

"I don't know how to fix what I fucked up. Steve's a good kid, I can admit that now. And he didn't deserve my bullshit just cause I couldn't get past old highschool biases. I wasn't there for him like I should have been- like I told him I would be when I signed those papers. But he's not the kid I thought he was, he's nothing like his folks or the other trust fund brats who think they run this shithole town. I don't know what I'm doing. I just know that kid deserves better than I've been doing."

She hums like she's mulling over his little speech to hide the way she's freaking out a little over what to say to all that. Even she doesn't know how she and Steve got to where they are beyond being tortured by Russians for information they didn't have then being drugged out of their minds while fighting inter-dimensional flesh monsters. But she doesn't think that would help Hop much in this situation.

But she thinks she believes him. At least for now.

"Alright, I'll help you with Steve." Hop sighs, his shoulders dropping as he seems to unclench slightly. Seriously, that much tension cannot be good for him after being in a Russian gulag for almost a year. "But not because I think you deserve it. You were right, Steve deserves better, but he wants you and Joyce and the kids to be in his life. Be a part of it. That is the only reason I will help you. He deserves a better dad than the one he's had and for some reason he thinks you're like super-dad."

"I- How the fuck did I not- What the hell?"

Robin shrugs, "The human brain is good at weeding out what it doesn't want to see. You didn't want to see Steve until you had to and that realization brought you to me. So. Ignorance is bliss and all that."

"So what do I do?"

She checks her watch again. "He'll be running late, especially if the fissure he's checking out is as bad as we think it is. So you have time to run back home, get Joyce to make extra of whatever monstrosity of a casserole she's trying to make this week and you get your rugrats to figure out a way to be the last drop off after Steve takes the brats to the arcade later instead of sleeping off whatever knocks he gets on patrol today. Then instead of letting him head home you make him come inside for dinner. Use the excuse of finding out he's been doing patrols if you have to. But you make him go inside and sit his ass down and eat something and you let him just- let him just be, Hop." She's running out of time but there is just so much she wants to get through to him. "Just make him feel like you see him."

"I- I'll try."

"Yeah, sure. Just-" She bites back the vitriol she wants to projectile vomit in his direction. "Just don't hurt him again. He's more than just a babysitter or front lines muscle. And I will make you wish you were back with the Russians if you make him forget that."

"I believe you."

"Good." The bell over the door jingles again and she looks past Hop to see a group of teenagers making their way to the comedies. "Now I have to get to work and you need to not be here by the time Steve comes to check on me. So talk to you later, Chief."

"Right. Thanks for your help, kid."

She shrugs him off as he turns to head out. The teens are watching him not-so-discreetly as they try to act like they're looking through the latest releases. She forgets that the man is as much a mystery as the heavy-duty military forces that have taken over their small town.

"Alright, folks. What are we looking for today?" She still technically has a job to do even if the kids keep their distance from her like they do the rest of the Party who at this point have all been seen either spending time with said heavy-duty military forces or chasing something into the dark of the forest wielding weapons smeared in monster blood, or both. It's going to be a long day.

Tag list (I think this is everyone?)(if your tag didn't work let me know cause they don't always work for me Idk why):

@thelittleclare @jackiemonroe5512 @0body0disphoria0 @strangersteddierthings @lingeringmirth @dead-cherry-bitch @irethsune @ink777 @the-daydreamer-in-the-corner @ledleaf @pansexuality-activated @paintsplatteredandimperfect @kinryuuki @yikes-a-bee @altocumulustranslucidus @ohimamarigold @samsoble @sensationalsunburst @xxbottlecapx @y4r3luv @swimmingbirdrunningrock @flustratedcas @rootbeerandmusic @vinteraltus @wonderland-girl143-blog @failedstarsandgoldenclouds @steddie-as-they-go @steveshairspray86 @youdrewstarsxaroundmyscars @i-amthepizzaman @wormapothacary @croatoan-like-its-hot @maya-custodios-dionach @ineffable-monster-romancer @asquareinverona @ellietheasexylibrarian @pukner @bookworm0690 @nightmareglitter @joekeerysmoles @salchica @lawrencebshoggoth @iheartjennaaa @child-of-cthulhu @anaibis @rocochen20 @katdeerly @samcoxramblings

[cloveroctobers]

access all areas — 10. Zilla Fatu [Winter Prompts]

A/N: i was battling between making this either Jey or Zilla inspired…and I decided to risk it lol s/o tiktok for putting me on again yet I’m still learning him lol 🩵

PROMPT IS FROM HERE + HERE & I’m using: 27. confessing a crush when it's snowing. DIALOGUE PROMPTS —“It's just a wish, I know wishes don't come true." // "Who told you that?"

WARNINGS: This is a shorty fluff! absolutely the language! Suggestive themes & Zilla being Zilla? Whatever that means 😉

<- if you’re bored or open to reading something else cute read my previous floppy flop anthology prompt here.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖⋆ ˚❆.𖥔 ݁ ˖⋆ ˚❆ .𖥔 ݁ ˖⋆ ˚❆.𖥔 ݁ ˖⋆ ˚❆ .𖥔 ݁ ˖⋆ ˚❆.𖥔 ݁ ˖⋆ ˚❆

“You calm down yet?” Is the first thing you say to the brooding man, sliding the door shut behind you as you step out onto the deck.

He sucks his teeth in response, not taking his glare from the approaching evening view, elbows resting along the banister, “Don’t come over here wit that mane.”

You laugh, squeezing the collar of your fur jacket tighter around your neck while you took a spot beside him, “Or what? You gonna cuss me out too? Everybody knew what they were doing sending me out here to deal with your ass.”

Zilla rolls his dark eyes up to the sky.

He knows there were plenty of options that could have had the task of talking to him: Jacob who knew Zilla pretty well and always tried to coach him into having a level head but after that shit he just pulled with Solo at his log cabin? That man was ready to toss Zilla out on his ass himself! Then there was Jimmy who usually tried to see everyone’s POV and that he did when it came to Zilla and Solo’s everlasting beef, Jey (who was currently tipsy) no longer had patience for Zilla’s mouth and as much as the twenty-five year old loved to be at functions with Jey, when they got into disagreements it always had the potential to go extremely left (their tempers combined was insane work) between the two however they could always squash it at the end of the day, and even Roman who was just getting the chance to really know the youngest member, was witnessing it all and open to figuring out where Zilla’s head was at—since they were all in their twenties once before.

Ultimately you stepped up (with light pushing from the other ladies, mainly Ava and Jey) to make sure Zilla was alright after he and Solo almost threw hands. It was all going so well, everyone was having a good time until the competitive sides egos came out.

“And how’s that? You not getting me to sit around the campfire and singing songs with that mutha—

“Alright, relax.” You interrupt with your hand held up, “How is it that I’m cool with your own blood and you’re not?”

Zilla muttered, “Maybe that’s part of the problem too.”

You tilt your head to the side, “What?”

“Let’s not act like I didn’t see him tryin’ to push up on you.”

You’re frowning now.

You and Solo been friends long before you met Zilla. At first you didn’t think he was even open getting to know you because you had ties with Sikoa but eventually Zilla pulled his head out of his ass, apologized for being an asshole for awhile, and you two were able to turn over a new leaf. There were no doubts that the both of you heavily got on each other’s nerves—Virgo men—but somehow there was always love there.

“It’s not like that.” You sigh, “Never has been and I don’t know why I have to sound like a damn broken record for you to get it.” You snap, leaning on your own elbow, and pressing another hand into your hip.

He blinks, “Does he know that?”

“I’m not doin’ this with you, Isayah.” You exasperate, “I came out here to check on your well-being, not you focusing on non-existent problems. Especially when you’re still out here entertaining other bitches like a dog in heat.”

It’s Zilla’s turn to furrow his brows.

“I dunno where that’s comin’ from but I’ll bite, say what’s on your mind then, ma.”

Shrugging your shoulders, you peek down at your acrylics as if that was more important, “…I’m just saying you’re using whatever you can find—something as ridiculous as Solo being into me, as an excuse to whoop his ass at any given time, is funny when your phones been going off from your little groupies since you got here.”

“Ah,” Zilla leans back and points, “You keepin’ tabs on me? How sweet.”

“Shut up, ain’t nobody thinking about you.”

Zilla smirks, “I mean…it’s coo if you are.”

“Me when I’m trying to deflect.”

“I’m not.” Zilla laughs a little, “I don’t gotta lie to you. There’s been a few that I’ve been talkin’ to but it’s never gone any further…cause I’m waiting on your ass, surprisingly.”

From the corner of your eye you spot flakes starting to glide down from the sky. The deck suddenly feels warm compared to the frigid air that first greeted you and almost made you want to crawl back inside.

“Huh?” Is all you can get out.

Zilla mocks you, “Huh? You heard me.”

“So…” you kick at the air awkwardly now, “I guess this is the part where I confess I’m feelin’ you too.”

He nods, “I thought that shit was obvious way back when I was hittin’ it right on Halloween with my hands around your throat?”

Instantly you smack his arm, making him laugh and lick his lips. “I didn’t need a refresher, thank you!”

“I dunno I thought your ass might of forgot,” Zilla turns to fully face you now, “I certainly didn’t.”

And there he goes giving you that taunting stare, that could make one with the most fear in their heart, quiver in place.

Reaching a ring finger out to the man, he breaks eye contact for a moment and reaches his own hand out to interlock with yours. It’s instant static but it’s brief because he’s tugging you right into his embrace. You melt into his frame, his arms locking around you just right as you gently sway side to side in the cold evening. Of course one hand that isn’t wrapped around your shoulders, slides down to hold your backside that’s buried beneath your fur jacket—knowing he would much rather get a real feel—you laugh to yourself.

“Can’t help yourself, can you?”

“I mean…you just said you’re down to be mine, no?”

“I don’t know if I said all that.” You pull back to glance down at his lips, a smile playing on your own glossed ones.

He closes one eye pretending to think about it, “You kinda did admitting your truth to me, girl. Don’t act brand new.”

“That’s all you!” You go to shove him with a laugh, that he mirrors, “Actin’ all fool over you know who when he’s just a friend and whomever is in your phone, you need to dead that by the way.”

“Yes ma’am.” He agrees, “Can I get some love now?”

“Are my hugs not enough?”

“Yeah sure, you smell divine and look even better but I’m really trying to see what you taste like.”

Oh?!

“I thought you didn’t forget.”

“Of my other girl, nah.” He shifts his eyes down your frame, making you gasp, ready to smack him again, “Sweeter than any cherry pie I’ve ever eaten.”

“You don’t like cherry pie.”

He shrugs as if it’s obvious, “You’re my exclusive.”

Shaking your head, you’re not sure what exactly you were going to do with this man but you turn to get a better view of the snow that started to come down harder now. Like a young child, you go to the banister to gaze up at the pretty fluffs that demanded to be seen.

You feel the weight of Zilla’s arms lock around you now, which makes you lean back against him, enjoying his warmth—despite the fact that he was only outside in a hoodie—which you didn’t want to hear a thing about when he caught a cold—and the touch of his lips against your neck.

“…Whatchu wish for?” He asks after a moment, noticing that your eyes were closed as soon as you spotted a star that flew through the sky.

If you blinked you might have missed it.

You’ve always been into shooting stars and the galaxies and shit. Zilla could be a yapper himself but he remembers a late night session after your first and only time together, that y’all got into a conversation of the unknown.

Granted you may or may not have been under the influence that Halloween night but those thoughts still occurred even without.

Lightly turning your head against his collarbone, you realized you’ve been caught, “It's just a wish, I know wishes don't come true."

Zilla frowns, “Who told you that?”

“It’s silly.” Your attempt to persuade him to drop it would be ignored.

Zilla scoffs, “It was me wasn’t it? You don’t gotta be shy about it…plus I actually like hearing what’s on your mind if we’re being honest.” He taps at your temple gently.

You can’t help but to beam at him, “Aw, aren’t you cute!”

Zilla rolls his eyes at you slightly squealing, “Don’t start.”

“Want a kiss?”

“Hell yeah…New Years about to come early.” He returns the grin, licking his lips as you spin to wrap one arm over his shoulders, the other goes to lightly scratch at the back of his head just how he liked, foreheads touching, noses brushing against each other, as you breathe each other in just before Zilla makes the move to place his lips right on yours.

He still knew how to make your toes curl just with one kiss.

“I love yo ass.” Zilla admits, once he catches his breath, an ounce of fear shining through his own dark eyes for a moment before he easily masked it.

A smile that reaches your own eyes speaks before you do, “I know.”

Zilla throws his head back in annoyance, “Forreal? This what you on?”

You nod playfully, “Can’t give you too much access can I?”

“Access?” Zilla repeats with a glance from underneath his lashes, “We been passed that, don’t you think, baby?”

Humming you move to rest both hands on his chest, “I would say you’re right and the feeling is mutual but that might get to your head.” You tease.

Zilla rubs at his face, laughing to himself, “Oh aight, bet. Imma get it out of you though, just you wait.”

“I don’t doubt it.” You wink, pulling the sides of his hood forward more as a brisk chill full of snow glided by you two, and then you toss your leg up over his hip.

Zilla doesn’t hesitate to grip your clothed flesh, his gaze darkening as you lightly bite your bottom lip, “Yeah, I think you’re asking for trouble as if you don’t know that I’m about it any time and anywhere. That hot tub cover is calling our names.”

You peek around his frame, leaning a bit to see the covered tub up ahead and that was enough of a hint into Zilla’s mind.

“Ayo! Y’all better be clothed out here!” Jey calls out, peering through his fingers and lets out a sigh of relief, “Zil, your time out is over! Bring your asses back in here, we about to fire up: den of thieves.”

Zilla groans as he says back over his shoulder to his older cousin, “Man, why your drunk ass gotta be so loud for?! Can’t you see we’re busy?”

“Well get un-busy! I’m sure you will find some other time to get nasty at some point while we’re all here…and you’re welcome by the way!” Jey sends the two a grin before leaving the door open, letting you two know that this wasn’t up for debate.

Watching action movies was part of the family gathering, along with a lot of shit talking and over talking that definitely pissed a few off that we’re trying to get into the storyline. You and Solo were part of the few that hated excessive talking so you just hoped the snacks were good.

Placing a lingering kiss on an irritated Zilla, you savored his lips, which turned a scowl into a smile, then you intertwined your fingers, dragging him back into the cabin full of chaos.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖⋆ ˚❆.𖥔 ݁ ˖⋆ ˚❆ .𖥔 ݁ ˖⋆ ˚❆.𖥔 ݁ ˖⋆ ˚❆ .𖥔 ݁ ˖⋆ ˚❆.𖥔 ݁ ˖⋆ ˚❆

[sugoi-writes]

Hi! I saw your request open. May I request a fiance!alastor x charlie's older sister!fiance!reader, they're in a secret realtionship. During episode 5, lucifer arrives, alastor and lucifer having some sort of beef and some time later either Y/N or Alastor reveals their engagement, really pure fluff

I hope you don't mind how long this took. I'm still a bit rusty when it comes to fluff, I feel. I threw a little angst and inner-Alastor thoughts just to round this out!! No particular warnings past some cursing and bickering old men... please enjoy!

You felt your phone buzzing in your pocket, alarmed when you saw your sister's name flash across your screen. Charlie's name blared at you in glittery, golden font, as Inside of Every Demon is a Rainbow bounced around your room bombastically. She had only called you when absolutely necessary. This couldn't be good...

You hastily picked up your phone, your jaw nearly hitting the floor as Charlie rambled about her predicament. You cut her off, pulling on your cardigan quickly," Don't move-- I'm on the way right now!!!" You nearly blew your apartment door off its hinges, trudging quickly downstairs. You pull your phone back up to your ear, quickly calling for a cab. If half of what Charlie spouted was true... she would need some support. As would Alastor... Quickly.

You took off briskly towards the Hazbin Hotel, hoping you would make it over before Lucifer, your father, had gotten there.

---

You were practically sprinting up the stairs as you left the cab, heart racing. If you knew anything, Charlie would be nervous and unable to convince your dad of change. If you knew anything about Alastor... you knew how much he secretly envied the power that Lucifer harbored. If he wasn't careful, said one wrong thing... he'd be exorcized in a heartbeat. You slam the hotel doors open, panting as all eyes in the room turned towards you. Charlie sighed, seemingly relieved.

"H-Hey there!!! Guuuuys, you've all met my sister, right? Right?" You saw Alastor at eye-level with Lucifer, stooping down to his height. They both looked positively FURIOUS with the other. But when Charlie had made mention of you, both men's gazes flew to you. Lucifer blinked a few times, taking small steps towards you," Y-You... you're here, too?" The King of the Hells looked absolutely shocked, a wide, prideful smile plastering across his face soon after," My oldest, my little duckling, it's so good to see y--"

Alastor hip-bumped Lucifer out of the way and onto his ass, making wide, deliberate strides towards you.

"My darling, mon cher!!! What a wonderful surprise! What brings you here this fine evening?" Alastor was looking between you, Charlie, and Lucifer as his mind raced. The dots were starting to connect.... He knew that you were estranged from both your parents and a younger sibling... bur now, he finalized realized that they just so happened to be Hell Royalty. THE Monarchy with a capital M. He should have seen the similarities... but: this was something he could use to his advantage. Something that made this position here in the hotel all the more concrete.

You chuckled as Alastor greeted you, taking your hand into his own before bringing it to his lips. Eyes and mouths hung wide open as all took in the sight of Alastor putting his lips to something the he didn't murder. Lucifer saw red, launching himself back onto his feet.

"What's the meaning of this? Okay, honey, sweetie-- you KNOW this shitshow???" Lucifer laughed nervously, mirroring Charlie's nervous energy as he rubbed his hands together, attempting to calm himself. His horns had nearly sprouted from his scalp," Duckyyyy...," Lucifer warned," Please tell I'm not seeing what I THINK I'm seeing." Alastor's shit eating grin was very telling, and impossibly wide as he spun you in a quick circle.

"Oh my Hells! Don't tell me, cher... you haven't told your own sister and father about us~?" Alastor teased, a hand clutching his chest in feigned injury," You wound me!"

You did your best not to laugh, gently nudging Alastor off of you," Well, I did tell you that I didnt-- Well, that we don't really see each other much anymore." You gaze at your father, having to look down towards him due to the height difference," Or, eye to eye, for that matter."

Alastor erupted into a laughing fit, both hands on your shoulders as he spun you around," Well, that certainly makes sense now!!! What a revelation!"

Lucifer fumed, barely avoiding biting his bottom lip off. Charlie blinked as she took everything in, eyes widening," So-- so THIS is your boyfriend you were telling me about! Riiiiiigggghhht..." Charlie clasps her hands together, mirroring her father. Her teeth were gritting slightly, as she concluded under her breath," Actually, that makes a LOT of sense, in retrospect--"

You flush even brighter, left hand ducking behind your back," Y-Y-- YEAH! Pffft! Just my boyfriend!" You fumble nervously as you continue," Charlie, remember? I told you about Al: tall, dark, handsome? Old fashioned? The cute little ears~?"

That sentiment surely wasnt shared by anyone else in the room... Angel scoffs as you were able to play with the Radio Demon's ears, the man in question seemingly unphased by your touch.

"Ugh!! Great! She can say it, but when I do, I nearly get eaten alive!!! What gives???"

Alastor was quickly losing his footing in this situation: he had to think fast. He is quick to seize your left wrist, pulling it back out to reveal a small, golden band enveloping your ring finger," I believe the term 'boyfriend' is a bit dated, even for us, isn't it?" Alastor bestows a kiss to your cheek, shocking even you, as he sends Lucifer a shit eating grin. This wasn't exactly the way you planned to tell everyone... but two of the three people in your little family were here, so you might as well make this count...

"No, I think betrothed is much more fitting, don't you~?"

Collective gasps about the room.

"You two are WHAT--?!?!?" screamed Lucifer.

"OH! OH!! IS SHE A BAD GIRL, SIR?!?!?" squealed Niffty as she jumped in place.

"...is she fucking HIGH--??" Husk asked accusingly.

Lucifer and Charlie both look to each other, than back to you, both feeling mixed emotions. Charlie is quick on the uptake, arms wide and welcoming," Ohh gosh, Alastor already felt like family since coming to this hotel!"

Charlie was doing her best to keep the piece, not wanting to lose the Hotel's Manager and her father in one blow," Th-this is great!! Im-- I'm SO happy for you two!" Charlie initiates a hug, squeezing both you and Alastor in a year's grip. Both yours and Alastor's hands instinctively go to pat Charlie on the head, making you flush again as you brush against each other. Alastor gives you a knowing, sweet smile, completing his end of the gesture.

" Oh Charlie, that is perhaps the nicest thing I've heard since coming to Hell~ I say, it almost makes a tear come to my eye!" Alastor pulls away and taps at his eye dramatically with his handkerchief, as you and Charlie continue to hug. Lucifer feels frozen in place, unable to act. If he makes a scene, he may scare you off or lose you again... if he doesn't make a scene now, then Alastor has a foothold that cements him further into this place. He was closer to not one, but BOTH of his daughters.... Lucifer decides its a risk worth taking, clapping his hands together. Maybe he could get rid of this deer carcass soon enough.

Lucifer takes bold steps forward, a jovial grin on his face," W-Well, of course! Charlie is right, anything for my little girl! Princesses deserve the entire world!" In a twist that catches everyone by surprise, he takes Alastor's hand in a firm handshake, his grip tighter than a boa constrictor. His forked tongue flicks and flares as he speaks directly to Alastor.

"...And you intend to give my little girl the WORLD...," he sneers, his voice deepening," ...Don't you?"

Alastor can barely hide the wince he makes as he shakes Luci's hand back, wide toothed grin straining," B-But of course!!! Who would I be to deny such a wonderful woman?"

Charlie's eyes well up with tears, the handshake convincing her that this was water under the bridge. You pipe up, placing a hand on both mens' chest to seperate them," W-Well, I think we should celebrate! Why don't we have some dinner, hmm? Perfect time to talk things over, get a tour of the hotel, AND work on how to help Charlie from here... right, Dad?"

You send Lucifer a warning gaze, one that instantly has him melting. He couldn't deny your request, even if you had a stake in his heart....

"Sounds like a great idea! Id LOVE to know how this freEAAA--king man managed to meet both of my daughters! I'll make pancakes!!!" Alastor throttles Lucifer, waving him off dismissively," Oh nonsense! Niffty and I already have things covered... why don't we all meet in the dining hall? My mother's recipe for Jambalya is absolutely to DIE for!"

Niffty practically vibrates as she starts barreling down the hall," I'll get the plates!!! The plates!!!"

Angel's stomach growls, his hands flying to cover himself," Actually... some food doesn't sound too bad right now. I'm down for some Louisiana spice before work~" Angel slinks down the hall behind Niffty, eager to chow down. Vaggie slowly takes Charlie's hand, looking to the two newest guests," Right... Lucifer, sir, and uhh..."

You politely give Vaggie your name, making her relax," Right... just follow us this way. We can work on that tour after some food."

Both you and Charlie were absolutely beaming, gawking over your engagement band, while Alastor and Lucifer kept respectable distances from one another. Today would be one full of reunions... and maybe a fist fight or two.

But Alastor was more than keen to play. This had been the most entertaining stunt pulled by this hotel yet... and he couldn't wait to see what sort of Morningstar drama he could exploit... but for now, he graciously let you cling to his arm, escorting you and the other misfits down the hall while humming a tune.

To the outside world, the two of you were perfectly balanced, opposites-attract peas in a pod... and, as far as you knew, they weren't exactly wrong.

[bonnie-the-butcher]

Rip Tide | Chapter II

[ MDNI ] [ word count: 6.978 ] [ Masterlist ] 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬: Canonverse/Canon-Divergent; Dark! Content; NSFW; Strong Language; Cheating; Drug Use; OVERDOSE; Some shades of Munchausen syndrome from dear old Rafe; Manipulation; Toxic, obsessive behaviour; Stalking; Violence; DUBCON/NONCON; My writing is really pretentious and English is not my first language, so please feel free to call me out in whichever grammar mistakes you might find find.

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | You and JJ have always been in each other's orbit. He's your brother’s best friend, the guy you've known your entire life. He was kind, protective, familiar. You never meant for the two of you to start hooking up. And you never meant for it to last so long. But when this boy you thought you'd come to know like the back of your hand turns out to be no better than the men he'd warned you about, you find yourself in the sights of the guy he hates most, regardless of wether you want that or not.

Likes, asks reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated. This chapter is a little heavier than the previous one. Please read the warnings and proceed accordingly. You can skip this chapter or skip the story altogether if this is a trigger for you. PUT YOUR MENTAL HEALTH FIRST.

You press your hands against your ears and close your eyes, willing yourself to wake up from whatever nightmare dimension you’d just been thrown in. You do the whole routine: pinch your arm, think of math problems, look at the time, but to no avail. Every time you open your eyes, there you are, in Rafe Cameron’s Range Rover, heading God knows where to a party you were most definitely gonna regret going to.

Barry doesn't share in your dread. He holds you against his chest, bursting out in laughter every so often as he points out different ways the pogues had humiliated themselves thanks to you. And Rafe, king kook, the man who your brother had sworn to kill more than once, steers the car, all but crying in laughter. Every now and then you’d feel him glancing over at you, lips quirking in a strange smile.

You were fucked.

Completely and utterly fucked.

You gazed at the car door longingly, pondering what your odds would be if you just got it over with, and jumped out of the moving vehicle straight into the road. But your daydreams were interrupted as your best friend pushed you softly, turning to you with that shit-eating grin:

– Quit acting like you’re going to your execution, sweetheart. You know damn well you enjoyed every minute of that as much as we did. – You couldn’t tell if he was being serious or just trying to get you angry, and honestly, you didn’t know which was worse. – Damn. Just the look on his face when you jumped in. Shit was a kodak moment.

– I’m gonna be on my deathbed, still laughing at the thought of JJ falling face-first into the ground. – Rafe added, breathless with joy, the words stained by his ear-to-ear smile.

Barry did a double take: – He fell?!

– Bro, you didn’t see it?! – the blonde’s cackling resounded around the car. – It was fucking priceless!

– Sweetheart, please tell me you have security cameras!

– Why would she, man? Who’d wanna rob that dump? – You were taking a deep breath, planning not to be offended, but Barry laughed just then.

– I swear to God, Barry, if I hear your trailer trash ass laugh at my house one more time, I will choke you in this passenger seat.

– Oh, believe me, I don’t want no beef with your house. Someone might say beetlejuice three times while I’m near and God knows what will happen, then.

You’re disappointed more than anything to hear Rafe laugh so hard at that half-baked joke. – Haunted house, really? Is that what you’re going with? If you’re gonna humiliate me, at least make it funny.

– Sweetheart, I don’t know why you thought that was a joke. It’s a warning. Your house is haunted. You need to get out of there.

– I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were living at the Four Seasons.

Rafe snorts, a mix between a laugh and a scoff:

– No offense, but Barry’s place actually looks like the Four Seasons when you compare it to your house.

– Rafe.

– I’m just saying! I’d be as miserable as your brother is if I had to spend a fucking second there, let alone my entire life. Like, I wouldn’t be surprised if I woke up and a gremlin was at the foot of my bed, telling me to leave.

Barry didn’t miss a beat: – What are you talking about man, what would JJ be doing at the foot of your bed?!

– Shining my shoe, probably.

You scoff, unamused:

– You guys are so funny, you know? I’m laughing sooo much.

– Lighten up, sweetheart. You’re acting like this shit is the end of the world.

– Oh, but it’s not. It’s not the end of the world, Barry, the world is fine. It’s just the end of my life. What time is it now? Quarter to seven? In eight hours I’m gonna be stepping out of this Range Rover, and when I walk into my house John’s gonna hit me over the head with a shovel and bury me out in the backyard!

– Not the backyard! – Rafe mocks.

– Yeah, sweetheart. Just cause you’re hause looks haunted, doesn’t mean that you have to do it.

You chuckle slightly, wiping your hand over your face. The absurdity of it all is starting to sink in. You don't want to laugh, you really don't, but you can't help it. Because maybe—just maybe—you’ve resigned yourself to this entire shitshow of a night. – Fuck you, Barry.

The chuckles come out in spurts, unexpected, but loud enough for them to catch it. Barry grins, leaning in closer. He pulls your hair away from your face with a grin, pointing at the smile on your lips as if he’d found a gold mine.

– There it is, sweetheart. I knew you had it in you.

Rafe catches your eye as he looks over, a gleam of amusement in his gaze. You can’t help but roll your eyes.

– Oh yeah, – You mumble – I’m definitely losing my mind. That’s gotta be it.

– No, no, no. Your little surfer rat friends were the ones driving you crazy. We’re helping you out, that’s what we’re doing.

Rafe’s voice is almost too smug for how proud he sounds.

You snort, both annoyed and entertained. – My savior! – You deadpan. – Whatever would I do if you weren’t there to rescue me from the claws of my evil older brother?

Rafe chuckles, leaning in a little closer, like he’s enjoying the way you’re playing along.

– I don’t know, get rat fever or some shit? Whatever it is that they’re passing around to each other all day. – he says, his voice almost too smooth, as you and Barry both recoil in disgust of the picture he’s painted. – But hey, at least you'd still have your looks. That’s gotta count for something.

You shoot him with a side-eye, laughing at the absurdity.

– Aren’t you a charmer? Tell me, Rafe, do you threaten every girl you talk to with the possibility of dying from disease or am I just that special?

His smirk widens, and he shakes his head. – Your guess, beautiful.

Barry cuts in:

– You better not flirt with her too much, Country Club. JJ might come after you.

Your smile couldn’t fade any quicker if you tried. – Let’s not talk about that.

– Oh we’re talking about it, alright. You’ve got a brand new guard dog, and you don’t even say shit to me? Y’know I could use someone to keep the merchandise safe.

– Chill out, Pablo Escobar. Nobody’s trying to steal your stash.

Barry shrugs, leaning back in the seat as he rolls his eyes. – You say that now, but I wouldn’t be surprised if your brother and his little rat pack are plotting some Mission Impossible shit to break into my place.

– Please. – You scoff, crossing your arms. – They’d probably trip over their own feet trying to climb your fence.

Rafe snickers, tapping the steering wheel. – That’s if they could even find your place, man. You practically need a treasure map just to figure out where the hell you live.

Barry flips him off lazily, but you can’t help but laugh.

Then the realization hits you. – Wait, where is this party, again? – you ask, glancing between the two.

– Don’t worry, you’ll like it there.

– Oh, I will. It’s my last day on earth. That’s not what I’m worried about.

– Country Club here’s the navigator tonight. I’m just the moral support.

Rafe smirks but for once doesn’t take his eyes off the road. – Moral support, my ass. You just didn’t want to waste gas getting your own car.

– You know gas ain’t cheap, man. Not all of us are rolling in daddy’s money.

– Right, – Rafe drawls. – But you’ve got no problem freeloading off me.

– Call it historical reparation. – Barry counters with a grin, and you roll your eyes.

– Seriously, where are we going?

– Figure Eight.

Your stomach drops. – You’re kidding.

– Didn’t I already tell you that? – Barry quips, and you glance down at your outfit: your dad’s old marina shirt, a pair of cut-out shorts, and sneakers that had definitely seen better days.

– I can’t go dressed like this. – You gesture at yourself, already imagining the judgmental stares you’d get.

– You look fine. – He pauses, sitting back so he can have a better look at you. – Shit, sweetheart, you look more than fine.

His compliment throws you, so you laugh it off. – Shut up, Barry.

Rafe smirks, his eyes flicking over you in a way that makes you immediately self-conscious. – Take off your shirt. It’ll look nicer like that.

Your mouth falls open, heat rushing to your face as Barry bursts out laughing. – Chill, Country Club!

– Jesus Christ! – you exclaim, glaring at him, but the cocky grin on his face doesn’t waver. Caught off guard, you blurt out the first thing that comes to mind, trying to diffuse the tension: – The party’s at a nudist beach? Is that it?

Barry’s laughter grows louder, though his eyes flicker down to your chest. His grin sharpens, and for a split second, you catch him licking his lips, the idea amusing him a little too much. – That’d be a damn good party.

– Now I kinda wish it was. – Rafe murmurs, barely under his breath.

The air in the car feels heavier suddenly, like all the joking had edged into something else. Barry’s laughter fades into the background as your heart skips a beat. You clear your throat, forcing out a chuckle. – Right. Well, hate to disappoint, but I think I’ll keep my shirt on, thanks. Turn around here, Rafe. – You point to a dirt path to the right.

– Why? – He hums, though he’s already turning, and his hand brushes your leg for a little too long as he reaches to shift the gears.

– It’s a shortcut to Barry’s. I’ve got some clothes there.

– When did you ever leave clothes at my place?

– Oh no, I didn’t leave them. Your hookups did. Half of my closet comes from your conquests.

Barry gives you a long hum, raising a brow, yet still grinning. – So that’s where my “lost and found” is going.

You steer Rafe in the right direction, looking straight ahead in an attempt to avoid his eyes. – You should really change it to just “lost”, y’know? I’m the only one who finds it, it’s not like they come back.

Barry flips you off, tsking under his breath as the car rolls to a stop before his trailer.

You step out, grateful for the fresh air despite the faint smell of salt and weed lingering around Barry’s place. The house isn’t much to look at, but it’s not a complete wreck either, and the little things you left around through the years to make it seem less like a shithole sure did the job.

– I’ll be quick, – you announce, already heading for the door. – Don’t get too comfortable.

– Take your time, sweetheart.

You nod, pushing your way inside. The air is stale but familiar, and you head straight for Barry’s room. The “lost and found” drawer is where you remember it, stuffed with random clothes that have no rhyme or reason. You sift through the mess, trying to avoid touching the more questionable items—like the endless pairs of mismatched underwear—until your fingers brush against something soft and smooth.

The skirt’s fabric is lightweight, almost slippery against your skin, and you can’t help but pause to run your thumb over it. It’s simple but pretty, and you decide it’ll do. Holding it up, you eye it over briefly before tucking it under your arm along with a cute top you find nearby, on his nightstand.

You can faintly hear Barry and Rafe talking outside. Their voices are muffled, and you can’t make out the words, but it's not hard to guess what they’re doing. Barry cuts up quickly, the sound of a random old credit card banging against the glass table outside echoing around the small place. You shake your head, making your way to the bathroom.

You set the clothes on the sink and catch your reflection in the mirror. The reflection staring back at you wasn't unfamiliar, bruises weren’t exactly a rarity in your life, but the one forming around your arm gave you pause. The faint black and blue watercolor stops you cold, a dark smudge against your skin.

You knew it would happen, of course. John’s grip earlier hadn’t exactly been gentle. But seeing it there stirs something inside you—guilt, anger, a mixture of both.

You touch it lightly, wincing at the tenderness. Great. You can bet that if you asked John what that stupid fight you just had was about, he'd be able to give you a play by play, but as soon as he saw this thing on arm —this thing that he'd done— he’d be asking who did it, why didn't you say anything and for how long it had been there.

The thought of your brother sends a sigh out of you. And your mind reels back the bad memories, the memories about how things used to be.

You wanted to believe that his sudden shift toward caring was a good thing, a sign that maybe your relationship could finally improve. But if this mark on your arm was proof of anything, it told you that this protectiveness he'd suddenly pivoted to wasn't going to end great, and leaving like you did tonight only added another crack to that already fragile foundation.

You dread the moment you have to return. Not because of the eventual screaming and fighting, or the possibility of new bruises to accompany his chorus of complaints, but because of the look he'll have on his face right before he realizes you’re back. —The worry, the anxiety of not knowing if you would return.— You know that look better than anyone, because you could feel it on your face every time you looked at the river bank where your father once docked his boat.

Your heart tugs painfully at the thought of his worry, despite knowing it would turn to rage as soon as he saw your face, and you reached for your back pocket, trying to think of something to text him, when the scene flashes in your mind again: His hands wrestling the phone out of your hand, the joyless smile on his face as he held it over your head, beckoning you to grab it.

Your ears aren't burning, but you can bet he's calling you all sorts of names right now.

You'd be surprised if he hasn't thrown your phone in the river. You wince at that thought, knowing you don't have the money for another one. There's barely enough cash for groceries as it is.

But you sigh, resigned, pushing the thought away as you reach for the borrowed clothes. The skirt’s fabric is cool and smooth under your fingers, the kind of material that whispered against the skin. You eye it for a moment, wondering what something so nice was doing buried in the back of Barry's drawer. It's rare you ever have anything nice for yourself.

You’re mid-thought, slipping on the skirt, when the door suddenly swings open. You freeze, your heart jumping to your throat as Rafe steps in. He stops in his tracks, his blown-out eyes widening for a split second before he smirks.

– Oh, – he drawls, standing in the doorway holding tight to the door frame as a crooked smile splits his face. – My bad. Didn’t know you were in here.

– Rafe, get out! – You snap, grabbing the top to cover yourself.

He doesn’t move right away, though. He chuckles, glancing down, and leans in. His hand brushes your bra strap, and you push him away. – You could just go like that, you know. Saves time.

– Out. Now.

– That tattoo is pretty. – He mumbles, you look down at the ink for a split second, and push him away again.

– OUT.

He finally turns, hands over his head in mock surrender. His movements sluggish as he steps away. You slam the door closed, wishing you could shut the door on this memory forever, and pressing your hands into your eyes, cheeks burning against the heel of your palms.

Maybe it was because you’d been humiliated so many times tonight that your body just can't process another hit, but you sit in that moment as if it had burned you. You stare at yourself in the mirror, running your hands under cold water, trying to shake off the shame that still burns under your skin.

You take a deep breath, then another, then push the door open, stepping back into the thick, hazy air of the house. Barry was right there, leaning against the wall with a cigarette tucked behind his ear. He meets you with a wolf-whistle, giving you a slow once-over before grinning – No idea who that skirt belonged to, but I know for damn sure it looks better on you than it did on her.

You scoff and roll your eyes, as the awkwardness that comes from flattery flutters up to your face, but before you can say anything, another voice cuts in.

– Looked better when you weren’t wearing it.

Rafe’s voice is thick, sluggish. You turn, meeting his gaze for a moment that seems to last a lifetime. His eyes are dilated, lidded, for a split second it seems like he’s struggling to keep them open, but you glimpse at that bright, almost radioactive blue while he smirks up at you, and a wave of feelings washes over. He runs a sweaty hand through his damp hair, blinking like the lights were too bright, like he was a second away from melting into the floor.

Barry’s expression shifts, amusement flattening into something sharper, something just shy of irritation. He doesn’t look mad, not really, but he isn’t entertained either.

– Alright, that was funny at first, man, but now you’re starting to piss me off.

Rafe only laughs, breathy and uneven. His shoulders curl inward slightly, his hand pressing flat against his chest.

The sound isn’t right. Every breath he takes feels off, like his body has forgotten how to regulate itself.

– Rafe?

Barry’s voice was firm. No answer.

You were closer, closer than Barry, and that meant you could see it first. The way his face twitched. The way his body swayed.

– Rafe.

Nothing. Your stomach turned.

You glanced at Barry, but he was already looking at you, his jaw tight.

– He isn't well. – You’re not pleased by the obviousness of your statement, but you double down. – Rafe, what’s going on?

The second the words left your mouth, Rafe faltered. His knees buckle, and before you could think, before you could process, he collapses into you, his weight knocking the breath from your lungs.

– Shit. Shit. Hey, hey—Rafe, look at me.

You gripped his face, shaking him slightly, trying to get his eyes to focus. He mumbled something, but it was nothing, just a string of syllables with no meaning, no coherence.

Then Barry was there, looming over the both of you. His eyes weren’t wide with shock or fear. They were narrow, jaw clenched tight. He stood there for a second, just watching, just breathing. And then suddenly, he lunged forward, grabbing Rafe by the collar and shaking him.

– What the fuck did you take? – Rafe didn’t answer, barely even reacted. Barry’s grip tightened. – Do you hear me, you fucking crackhead?! What the fuck did you take?!

You barely registered the pounding in your skull as you snapped:

– What’s happening?!

Barry didn’t look at you. His attention was locked on Rafe, his grip unrelenting.

– What’s happening is that Rafe’s a fucking moron, that’s what’s fucking happening!

Your pulse roared in your ears. Barry shook him again.

– What did you take, Cameron?!

Rafe inhaled sharply, he makes a couple sounds, just as incoherent as before. His hands fist the fabric of your skirt, eyes fluttering between you and Barry, lips moving soundlessly until he exhaled one word, slurred and barely audible:

– Xanax.

That didn’t calm Barry. If anything, it made him angrier. He shoved Rafe back, sending you both to the ground, dragging his hands through his hair in a frenzy.

– FUCK!

The word came like an explosion. Whatever was in his hand went flying, shattering against the wall. You flinched before you could stop yourself, clutching Rafe tighter, your nails digging into his clammy skin.

– Don’t die, don’t die, don’t die— You didn’t even realize you were saying it out loud until Barry’s pacing snapped you out of it. – We need to do something! W-what do we do? – Your voice was thin, cracked around the edges. Your head was spinning. You were scrambling through every piece of information you’d ever heard, anything, anything – Naloxone—should we try naloxone? Or—should we try to get him to puke?

Barry cut you off.

– That’s not gonna do shit! The pills are already in his system, the coke’s already snorted! We can’t get that shit out of him!

– Then what? What do we do?!

– I don’t fucking know!

He turned away again, pacing, cursing, shaking his head like he was trying to shake the whole night off of him.

And that’s when it happened. That moment. That split second where everything should’ve gone numb, where your brain should’ve shut down, checked out, but it didn’t.

You felt everything.

Rafe’s breath, uneven and wrong. His half-open eyes, staring through you. His body trembling, like every nerve ending in him was screaming in agony.

You couldn’t breathe.

Barry suddenly spun on his heel and rushed inside.

– Where are you going?! Barry. Barry! Talk to me! Where the fuck are you going?!

He didn’t answer.

You nearly got up to follow, but then—

– Mmh—

Rafe groaned, weak, so fragile it made something in you snap.

You couldn’t leave him. Not like this.

Barry came back seconds later, shoving something into your hands. A plastic bag filled with some kind of powder.

– W-what is this?!

He didn’t answer immediately, rushing back with a water bottle, pushing that into your hands, too.

– Activated charcoal. Dump half the bag in there and shake it.

Your hands trembled, eyes darting between the bag and Rafe, between Barry and the door.

– And then what?!

Barry wasn’t looking at you. He was searching for something, grabbing his helmet.

– Then you give it to him. Make sure he drinks it. Don’t let him puke it up. Not for a while, at least.

– What-what are you doing?! – Your voice was sharp, frantic. Barry avoided your gaze, snapping his helmet on. – Barry! You can’t do this to me right now! You can’t just leave me here again! I’m gonna end up killing him!

He exhaled sharply.

– I have to go.

– Go?! You can’t fucking go! I don’t know what to do, you can’t just leave me here!

He didn’t meet your eyes. He just shook his head, looking everywhere but at Rafe, the walls, his hands, the floor. His gaze shifted almost desperately, and when he spoke, you caught a sort of shakiness in his voice that he couldn’t mask as anger. – Just do what I said.

– Barry, please— Barry!

You reached for him, but before you could, Rafe curled into you, his fingers weakly gripping your wrist.

You were stuck.

Stuck between your best friend, who was abandoning you, and Rafe Cameron, who might actually fucking die in your arms.

Tears blurred your vision, but you forced them back. Your hands trembled as you tore the bag open, powder spilling onto your fingers, onto Rafe’s skin.

His breathing was getting worse.

Your own breath hitched, but you forced yourself to move. Shaking, you dumped the powder into the water, mixing it as best as you could.

– You’re gonna be okay.

Your voice wavered as you lifted the bottle to his lips.

– You’re gonna be fine, Rafe.

You tilted it gently, coaxing him to drink.

– Everything’s gonna be okay.

The words felt like a lie.

Rafe barely managed to swallow, his fingers weakly gripping your sleeve.

He's still clinging to you, breathless and half-conscious, his shoulders relaxing, the shaking slowly going away.

The hours got away from you.

Sat there on the floor with Rafe in your arms, you were frozen. Shell-shocked. At some point, your hand had drifted down to his chest, and you left it there, shaking over him, almost lulled by the erratic beating of his heart.

He didn’t move much either.

You shook him a couple times, feeling the panic spike inside you again, and only then he opened his eyes, gaze lingering on your crying face for what felt like centuries, until he curled up closer, and that radioactive blue you’d come to be so familiar with over the night disappearing behind his eyelids again.

You’re not sure how much time has passed when he suddenly shoots up, so suddenly that, for a second, you don’t even react. His body jerks away from you, retching.

Rafe scrambles to his feet, managing to take maybe two or three steps into the grass before he falls to his knees again. He heaves violently, and your stomach clenches at the sound of it, at the sharp gag that follows. He pitches forward, one arm barely catching him on the floor before he spews his guts onto the grass beneath him.

You should move. You should move.

But you can’t.

You’re just sitting there, watching him.

The vomit is grey, almost completely liquid. His whole body shudders, fingers twitching against the soil. For a moment, you swear he looks smaller, weaker.

Not Rafe Cameron. Not the boy that smirks like he owns the whole world. Just a person. Some kid that almost died in your arms.

Your instincts take over as you see him falter again, rushing forward, steadying him before he can fall face-first into his own sick. Your hands shake as they find his head, holding him upright, keeping him there.

But he doesn’t stay put for long. Rafe lets himself fall back into you as he gasps and groans, his hand wrapped around your wrist. – Thank you. – He whispers. You hate the words, hate being the object of gratitude, but you’re quiet for a moment as he catches his breath.

You’re still holding his head, brushing his hair off his face. – You’re fine. You’re gonna be okay. – Your sympathetic platitudes sound more sincere now that you’re more certain he won’t just drop dead, but the noises he makes, the groaning, the mumbling. Rafe splutters painfully, his eyes screwed shut.

You try not to breathe as he presses himself into your arms again, as firm as jelly. – Ugh. Shit.

– How are you feeling?

He breathes in deep. His hair brushes against your neck as he lays back into your chest, eyes still tightly closed despite the fact you two had been sitting on that dark porch for hours. – My head… – The suggestion of pain is all he can manage to verbalize, so you don’t push him any further.

– I’ll go get you some water. Just sit still, okay? – You shift, only moving slightly, but he stops you before you can even stand. – Rafe.

– Don’t. Don’t do that.

– I’ll be right back.

– Don’t lea—don’t leave me here. – It hurts to hear it. Hurts to see the hollowness in his face as he begs, hanging onto you like a lifeline.

You soften your voice. – I'll be right back, I promise.

– I don—I don't want water. I'm fine.

– You’re clearly not fine, just let me— The kook pulls you back, back into him, back onto the ground. A flash of his paper-white teeth meets your eye, and the chuckle he lets out rumbles against your skin, warm and breathy. – This isn't funny, Rafe.

– Wanna bet?

– Just stop it. Stop it, man! Look at you! You're a mess! You almost died!

– Didn't though.

You roll your eyes before you can help it. – Are you kidding? You better be kidding.

– I am alive, – He takes a hold of your hand, sitting idly on his shoulder, and pulls it to his chest, where it had been before. His heart thumps steadily under your touch, though it isn't exactly normal. – See? It's a miracle! It's aliiiive!

He giggles stupidly, his smile somewhat tainted by the pounding in his head.

– You're hilarious. Now can I please get up?

– Don’t want you to.

– No. You need me to. Is your ass gonna walk to the kitchen? You can't even stand up.

– Baby, I'm fine.

You disregard the random nickname, though the smile he gives you sends a shiver down your spine. – You don't know that, Rafe. – The smile on his face shifts from mocking to mischief as he raises a brow, and you can feel your own face fall when the realization finally dawns on you. – You… You do know. Are— Are you INSANE?! Why the fuck would you do that, Rafe?! You almost died!

He exhales, still smiling. – It’s not like that, okay? I just got the doses mixed up.

– Mi— You stop yourself short, facepalming. – Mixed up?! You should never mix those two things in the first place! A stimulant and a retardant, at the SAME TIME? No shit your body shut down, what else did you expect to happen?!

– It was just the dose, okay? It feels nice if you do it right.

– It feels nice? – You stagger. – “It feels nice”? You've done this before?

The words don’t register. Not at first. Your brain scrambles to process what he just said.

It feels nice if you do it right.

The way he says it, so casual, so indifferent, makes your stomach turn. Like he wasn’t completely limp in your arms a moment ago, like he wasn’t this close to crossing a line he could never come back from. Like this was just another Saturday night for him.

You blink. You swallow. You try to will down the rising irritation in your chest.

And Rafe? Rafe just leans back against you, impossibly lax, as if the weight of his own mortality hasn’t even touched him.

He laughs again, quieter this time, his breath warm against your skin.

The bastard doesn't even have the grace to answer you, he just chuckles softly, as if he’s talking to a child, as if he hadn't just brushed so close against death you could still smell it on him.

– You— Your voice catches. You shake your head, pressing your fingers to your temple, trying to force some kind of logic into the moment. – You almost died, Rafe!

– Didn’t though. – He murmurs.

The smugness in his voice is unbearable. You feel like shaking him, like splitting his head open to see if the memory was there at all, to see if the sudden hit at his nervous system hadn’t thrown him into some realm of delusion.

– Don’t. Don’t do this shit. It wasn’t funny the first you said it, and it sure as hell isn’t funny now.

– Baby, look. You’re overreacting, it’s okay. I’m okay.

Your brain does not register the words after “overreacting”. You feel like you’re short-circuiting, like this whole moment is some stupid comedy skit where the world has gone crazy and you’re the butt of the joke for not catching on.

– Jesus Christ. – You whisper. – I should’ve let you fall on your face. I should have. Maybe that would’ve knocked some fucking sense into you.

Rafe tilts his head back just enough to look at you, grinning, like this was some great joke you’re both in on. – Shit, maybe. – He chuckles. – You didn’t, though. You wouldn’t.

The worst part?

He’s right.

You wouldn’t. Of course you wouldn’t.

You sit there, staring at him, at the lazy smirk on his lips, at the complete and utter lack of concern in his eyes. It’s like watching someone sleepwalk through a minefield, completely unaware of how close they came to blowing themselves apart. Worse, completely unfazed by it.

Your hands flex against your thighs. A bitter thought creeps in—why does it always have to be you? Why do you always end up cleaning up the mess for people who don’t even care if they survive it?

First Barry. Now Rafe.

It’s not a new pattern. You’ve seen this play out before.

Barry did those kinds of stupid things exactly for the same reasons —To feel good, even if it’s just for a minute, even if this momentary pleasantness can only happen at the doom of everything else.— The sad thing is that both of them think people can’t see through that. That need to do crazy, wild, reckless things that they think are just fun and games, knowing things can —and most likely will— go wrong, just so that the people around them, those people that did nothing but ignore them, and neglect them, would look their way.

And though they usually never did, someone was always there to fix it for them.

Rafe’s someone was his father. Barry’s someone was you.

You think of the way Sarah speaks about Ward. Like he’s hung the moon up in the sky, and it sounds exactly like how John spoke of him. How he thought of him. How he still does. You've worked for the Camerons a couple times. You knew Ward. You know how he treated his son.

Still, every time Rafe got in enough of a fight with your brother’s friends that they ended up at the Station, there was Ward, to make it all go away.

You think of Barry when you were kids, the way he used to flinch whenever someone mentioned his father, the way he refused to go home until he absolutely had to. His mom was gone, his dad was an asshole, and the rest of his family was too busy pretending he didn’t exist to care what happened to him. You weren’t much different. The two of you were just a couple of kids that no one was really looking for, drifting through life, trying to figure out where the hell you were supposed to go. It made sense that you stuck together.

But Barry leaves you behind all the time.

And though you hate to give John the right to say “I told you so”, you know tonight isn’t an exception. It’s just another reminder.

He’d always been careless, reckless in a different way—never planning for tomorrow, always looking for the next easy out. And even as kids, whenever the two of you got into trouble, you were always the one who cleaned up the mess. You were the one who had to make sure he wasn’t living off the food he stole from house parties, who patched him up when he got in fights, who made sure he didn’t get himself killed.

When you met, you’d both been desperate for something, anything, to fill the void. For Barry, it was drugs and trouble. For you, it was Barry.

It wasn’t the first time, and you know it won’t be the last. He always leaves you holding the bag, trying to figure out how to cut the wire before the bomb goes out. Its painful, because you know he has it hard, harder than you. And maybe that’s why he does this to you all the time. He’s older than you, he’s been alone for longer. So when push comes to shove, he always makes sure he’s okay first.

And though you know he isn’t trying to screw you over, or at least so you hope, that doesn’t make it any easier. And maybe—maybe—this resentment you’re feeling has been there for longer than you realized.

The thought is ugly. But it’s there.

Rafe shifts against you, pulling you out of your spiraling thoughts. You blink, refocusing, and find his eyes on you, the exhaustion weighing heavy in them, but still glinting with that same unreadable amusement.

– What are you thinking about? – He’s looking at you now, head tilted slightly, still sprawled against the floor like he has all the time in the world.

You shake your head. – Nothing. I’m getting you some water.

You try to pull away, but Rafe holds on, his grip tightening just enough to keep you in place. His fingers latch onto your leg, curling around your ankle, and he tugs—not hard, but enough that you stumble slightly. – You’re thinking about something. C’mon, you can tell me.

– Yeah I can. You won't be conscious for long enough to remember it.

– Great. So tell me.

– You need the water, Cameron. Just let me go.

– What I need is for you to stop worrying so much. – His voice is slurred, thick with whatever is still running through his system, but there’s amusement there too. Like this is funny to him. – I can keep a secret, y’know? Promise your asshole brother and his little cult won’t find out.

– Let go of me, Rafe. – You glare down at him, but he just grins, pulling again, enough to make you step back.

– Nah, stay. You’re warm.

– I’m gonna be real fucking cold in a second if you don’t let go.

That makes him laugh. A deep, rough sound that rattles through his chest. – Just tell me what you’re thinking about.

– I’m thinking about how you’re an idiot. And how I’m apparently the only person in this conversation who cares if you live or die.

– You care about me? That’s cute.

– Don’t flatter yourself. – You shoot back. – Someone’s gotta make sure you don’t choke on your own vomit. Or dive straight into it. – You frown, pulling him away from the wretch. – Get on the couch. The ground is filthy.

Rafe’s happy to let you pull him around, as he does nothing to help but throw an arm over the cushions and lay back. – You’re good at it, though. Taking care of people. You’ve got, like, a vibe.

– A vibe? – You echo, lips twisting into a smile despite yourself. – What vibe is that?

He shrugs, smirk widening. – A hot vibe.

– You’re unbelievable.

– And yet, here you are. – He laughs. – Putting up with it. You know, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you liked me.

– Yeah, well, it’s a good thing you do then. – You scoff, shaking off his hands. But he’s still chuckling as you step inside the trailer, and his laughter follows you all the way in.

Barry’s trailer is a mess, as expected. Clothes draped over furniture, an ashtray overflowing on the coffee table, empty beer bottles scattered around.

When you pull the fridge open, a wave of cold air rushes out. Only then you realize how hot it is out, the damp, humid climate clinging to your skin even as you stand there. The shelves are mostly bare, save for a few instant ramen cups and a pack of American cheese that might not even be good anymore. The only thing that seems fully stocked is the beer.

Figures.

You grab a bottle of water and head back outside. Rafe hasn’t moved much. He’s managed to drag himself into a slightly more upright position, but he still looks like he could pass out.

– C’mon, – you sigh, reaching for him. – Let’s get you up.

He doesn’t argue, but he doesn’t exactly help either. He’s heavy, leaning against you like dead weight, and it takes everything in you to lift him onto the couch. You drop down beside him, handing him the bottle.

– Drink.

He takes it, twisting the cap off with shaky fingers before bringing it to his lips.

Rafe takes a long sip, then looks up at you, eyes glinting. – What do I get if I finish it?

– Hydration.

He chuckles slightly, that glint in his eye growing brighter as his smirk widens. – No gold star, no nothing? That’s not right. I’m being a very good boy right now. And what? I don’t even get a sticker?

– Tell you what, you finish this bottle and I won’t tell the teacher you misbehaved, how ‘bout that?

You watch as he drinks, throat bobbing with each swallow, before he finally lowers it, exhaling deeply. Rafe hums, his lips twitching up. – Where’s my gold star?

You scoff, leaning back. – I'll show you where it is.

He doesn’t respond right away. Just watches you. The silence stretches for a beat too long, and something in his expression shifts—something unreadable, something you don’t have the energy to try and decipher.

You clear your throat. – Can you stand?

He shifts, testing his weight as he pushes up from the couch. You stay close, hands hovering, ready to catch him if he goes down again. He wobbles, but he stays up.

– Keys, – you say, holding out your hand.

He raises a brow. – Already looking to split the assets? We’re not even married yet.

You roll your eyes, fingers curling impatiently. – Rafe. – With an exaggerated sigh, he digs into his pocket and hands you the keys. – I’m taking you home.

He doesn’t argue. Just takes your wrist, turning it slightly so he can glance at your watch.

– Almost ten, – he murmurs. – Everyone’ll be asleep by the time we get there. – He pauses, glancing up at you with a lazy smirk. – Won’t be the first time I’ve snuck a girl into the house.

You ignore him, looping an arm around his waist as you guide him toward the car. He leans into you more than he needs to, his body pressing into your side as you help him into the passenger seat. You’re careful with him, though there's a part of you that is confused at how he seems to be okay one minute, and completely helpless the next.

The drive isn’t long, but it feels longer.

Your fingers tap against the steering wheel as you approach his driveway, nerves prickling under your skin. You don’t need someone seeing you. You don’t need this getting back to John B.

You park, cutting the engine, already looking at the windows, searching for movement. Rafe lets out a small laugh. – Relax. – He grins. – No one's watching.

[lazyneonrabbitt]

Here you will find the full list of my works for Daryl Dixon and other characters portrayed by Norman Reedus. [Main masterlist]

Requests are OPEN

⬇️ Masterlist under the cut! ⬇️ [My Ao3]

★ indicates smut, 18+ content.

Series

Paintings & Picture frames [Pt.1] [Pt.2] [Pt.3] [Pt.4] [Pt.5] [Pt.6] [Pt.7]

No apocalypse AU. Daryl and reader are studying at the same college and are assigned orientation project parters. [ONGOING, HIATUS]

Wings [Pt.1] [Pt.2] [Pt.3] [Pt.4] [Pt.5] [Pt.6]

Judith plays matchmaker by stealing your jacket and making it match Daryl’s

Oneshots

Records of forgotten times

Digging through old music brings back sad memories, but also happy talks of the future.

Sinful ★

Father Daryl enjoys some private moments with the not-really nun.

Ruppel

You're chilling on the couch watching your favorite show. Daryl joins you because he wants to learn about your interests.

Shielded (Fantasy AU)

Everyone openly shows and uses their powers, except for Daryl. Until you get hurt.

Bad ideas ★

During a laundry round while home alone you find some ..'used' items of Daryl's to fuck yourself with and now have to work through the concequences.

Girlfriend [Pt.1] [Pt.2]

Daryl is in a sucky relationship but doesn't see it at first. Reader helps him see and later shows him how a good partnership works.

Hunters Ink

One tattoo leads to many more when you fall head over heels with the artist.

Creep (modern AU)

Finding an apartment in this new town was easy, but now you needed a job.

Daisy chains

Daryl gets separated after the prison attack. He comes across a home for him and his kid to hole up in. Your home.

Beef

Requested : "Could you do a Daryl x reader where at first he doesn’t like her, and she tries to get to know why hes so mean to her? Maybe he yells at her and then some comfort after?"

Rough times

Requested: Hi! Would you be willing to maybe do a one shot with Daryl x reader in a pre established relationship but the reader is pregnant with a child that doesn't belong to him and she isn't proud of? (non-con if you're comfortable with that) Some angst about the reader being worried he won't love her once he finds out 👀

The fun has just begun

Two men snatch you away for some fun. Before they even get anywhere you and Daryl have turned the tables and have some fun of your own. CW: Torture

Forest Guardian [pt.1] [pt.2]

You plan a week long vacation to a luxury cabin. Luxury is nowhere near what you find.

Not your usual undead Vamp!AU

Which undead do you choose? The ones outside, or the one in front of you?

Breakfast ★ Vamp!AU

Locked in a bathroom stall with a hungry vampire was not how you planned to spent your time hiding from a herd.

Drabbles

Period cramp relief

Photographer Daryl

Different kinds of sex w/ Daryl

You needed Daryl for something

"Hey buddy, what are you doing here?"

"Carol gave me some cookies to share!"

Rick and Daryl go out on a run

Old man Daryl

Showing Daryl how beautiful he is ★

Worshipping Daryl's worn body

Daryl read you like a book ★ Vamp!AU

🐺Were!Daryl 🦊Were!Reader

🐺Series🐺

Shared interests [Pt.1] [Pt.2] [Pt.3] [Pt.4] ★

Grimes!reader. Your father shares information about the man he considers his brother in support of your interests. Those interests take a different turn than he expected..

🐺Multichapters🐺

🐺Monsters among us [Pt.1] [Pt.2]

Your water breaks in the middle of nowhere but you find the prison in time for them to help you. There you meet the man of your nightmares. CW: childbirth

🐺🦊Feral for you [Pt.1] [Pt.2★]

Request. Daryl develops a crush on a soft and sweet lady, afraid to ask you out and ruin your sweetness, only to learn later on your have a feral side as well,

🐺Oneshots🐺

🐺 His girls (xOFCs)

Alexandria's new residents find a dog. And his very handsome owner.

🐺 Full moon meetings

You get stuck in the woods, surrounded by walkers and are saved by ..something.

🐺 Night shifts

During a night shift with Rick he sends you to investigate movement in the woods, knowing it would end with two of his group members coming home together.

🐺 Dog person ★

You’re Dog’s new favorite human and Daryl gets jealous. Lucky for him you’re also good with his dog-side.

🐺 Creature Feature ★

After overhearing your spilled dirty little secret of old world fantasies, Daryl suddenly feels like he does have a chance to get you into bed with him.

🐺 Unexpected

This can be read as a continuation of Dog Person. Reader is pregnant with Daryl’s pups and has to hide it from the community until they can leave for Daryl’s cabin. CW: childbirth

🐺 Roses for the ones left behind

Daryl gets taken and leaves a pregnant reader, not knowing her child and partner aren’t human. CW: childbirth

🐺 New comforts ★ alt. ending ★

No one needed to know that sex between the two of you was for human Daryl only. Alt.: Rick now knows.

🐺 Witch hunt

Thanks to an emotional slip-up you almost risk your home in Alexandria.

🐺 Arrows & Rags

You help a wounded creature who leads you back to its den, where you find the one person you thought you had lost in the walker attack.

🐺 Why didn't you tell me?

You follow Daryl into the woods on the one night he asked you to stay away.

🐺🦊 The softer the skin, the sharper the teeth

Request. WereDaryl and Glen find a she wolf (in human form) out and talk to her about coming to the prison. She and Daryl are mates

🐺 Shame

Your most private moments are shared with the intent to drive you away. And it amost worked.

🐺 Not a monster

Request. Beauty and the Beast inspired fic. Set during Alexandria times.

🐺 Domesticated

Request. Cuddling in bed, like mundane little moments in their relationship

🐺 Bath time

Daryl's distaste for showers rubbed off on his children.

🐺 Forbidden ★

Strickt parents and werewolves don't mix, so you run.

🐺🦊 Found

Daryl finds a young girl and takes her home. He adopts her and learns she's a wolf too.

🐺 Savior ★

You show a little too much interest in Negan's new prisoner so he uses you as a test subject. CW: Non-con, forced impreg

🐺 King of the cage

In the apocalypse, entertainment is hard to come by. Until you hear of underground groups fighting with anything nonhuman.. CW: Descriptive violence and murder.

🐺King and his Queen ★

[KING series pt.2] After Daryl's match he gets treated like royalty by his loving partner.

🐺 Instincts [Pt.1] [Pt.2]

Daryl finds a woman with her newborn pup, taking them into the group. Slowly their bond grows stronger.

🐺 Rules of Nature

Daryl gets hurt on a simple hunting trip and reader patches him up.

🐺 Get rid of it

You and Daryl never fought, until you did. Daryl relives old traumas while you stay at Hilltop.

🦊 The bridge home

Daryl has to introduce his exraordinary girlfriend by accident. (teeny bit of smut at the start)

🐺 Monster outside the walls

A warning about a monster outside of the Alexandrian walls takes a weird turn as new residents turn out to be trouble.

🐺 Demons are a girl's best friend ★

You hide from the rain in a church, not knowing a very interesting beast already claimed the place as his home.

🐺Drabbles🐺

🦊 Daryl was out on a hunt > Daryl liked being around her > Daryl has never been so proud

🐺 Daryl hated full moon these days.

🐺 You, Carol and Daryl go out on a run.

🐺 "Man, 's colder than a witch's tit."

🐺 You and Daryl had a great life.

🐺 Daryl came home early today.

🐺 Daryl saves you

🐺 You were all sitting around the bonfire

🐺 Daryl came home from a run. (xOFCs)

🐺 Cramps

The adventures of Daryl the werewolf and his witch girlfriend.

Inked Sigils. ★

Fate brought you together. Spells finally brought you family

Bored ★

You tagged along with your boyfriend who ‘just needed a minute’, but you were so bored..

Momma's boy ★

You find your boyfriend all alone and desperate in your apartment, so you help him out. Again.

Help wanted ★

Request "Fuck me if I’m wrong but scud just being pounced on by a desperate werewolf girl in heat would kinda be hot"

Warm & fuzzy

You just love him. It doesn’t matter what the others think

Much fun indeed ★

A summary of what being with the biker has thought you over time.

A biker's true loves ★

Request: can you do a story with funny sonny before his teeth got all messed up, younger and with female reader. super smutty. then maybe time jump and they are still together even after his looks have changed?

Coming soon??

Double Stuffed ★ Daryl/Scud/reader

It's your birthday so you get to have twice the fun!