#send bail money

[p-redux]

From Submit Option:

_________________________

"Is this true from 2023?

Yvonnesays:

March 6, 2023 at 12:05 pm

Tobias Menzies is currently in Clovelly in North Devon with a woman, I saw him yesterday on the harbor wall, they seemed very cozy and I found out her name is Rachel and she is a writer from The Uk. They were very nice together, she looks maybe 45 ish and they were holding hands and kissing, he had n at first a covid mask but when people moved away he remove it and it was obvious it was him, I was sitting to the left of him and he didn’t see me until I asked for a picture. Can I send you the pictures, he wasn’t! keen on having it taken but its a great snap, and it shows the woman too…."

_________________________

I hadn't heard anything about this. I did a quick search and found that the info from above is from here. 👇

It's from this Tobias Menzies fan website. 👇

https://tobiasmenzies.org/2023/01/28/tobias-menzies-2023-sundance-film-festival-omnibus/

As you can see in the comment above, the sighting was written by a fan named Yvonne. So, Yvonne, if you happen to get wind of my post, DM me, please. You can message me here or in DMs on my Twitter/X account, p_redux. Come out, come out, wherever, wherever you are, Yvonne! 🤗

As for this UK writer, Rachel, I haven't had a chance to look to see who she could be. I'll look into it later, but does anyone have any ideas?

If I'd been the one to see Tobias sitting there kissing another woman, I would have ran over, knocked her out of the way, "He's mine, bitch!" And plopped myself right on my Lord and Master's lap. Hahaha. Just kidding. Sort of. 😈 😚 #sendbailmoney

[erismourn]

played d&d with my coworkers tonite. my dog (IN GAME!!! IN GAME DOG) died and I cried so much I had to go home early because animal harm is one of my No Nos in media. i am embarrassed as fuck

[fogisbeautiful]

I don't understand people who listen to videos out loud in public. Like, what makes you think I want to hear discourse on the merits and disadvantages of archeology? I'm just trying to pick up a Doordash order here, I'm at work, could you not?

[pose4photoml]

Your trademarks are being an awesome friend, two drink Fridays, and being able to survive your one coworker. Also just being awesome in general

Hi- This is so sweet 🥰 (much needed to read after this morning)

Your an awesome friend as well, I’m glad we meet, and I appreciate you always letting me vent to ya about well pretty much everything lately!!

2 drink Friday’s started when after a very crazy week I felt I needed a treat!! After that my friend joked that I should do a little something for myself each week since I’m usually busy helping others 😉 So now I reward myself with two drinks from Starbucks every Friday!!

(Even my boss rewards me with Starbucks gift cards when I help out a little bit more at work)

Oh yes the coworker who must not be named! I actually stood up for her last week.. believe or not. I gave her a ride to lunch and told her I didn’t like the way another coworker treated her, especially since she did it in front of clients no less. The surprise look on her face. Priceless!! I believe we had a breakthrough in understanding a little bit more of each other. Now if I could just get her to work on her time management skills at work as sometimes I can’t do my job until she’s done hers. Which is why I get so frustrated with her a lot!!

[feralgoblinqueen]

König with a small (anyone is small compared to this man) gf who speaks up for him and gets angry on his behalf.

Like at work he’s confident, large, and in charge. HOWEVER, König really appreciates someone who speaks up for him in his day to day life.

Needs to send food back at a restaurant? He’s certainly not going to do it. His precious and sweet looking gf on the other hand… polite at first (always) but she will in fact match energy if need be.

Someone staring at him while out I public and he gets uncomfortable? She’s all over it. Will ask politely for them to stop staring but can and will escalate. Has made grown men and women cry AND apologize to her beloved König.

Random jerk on the street saying you could do better than a monster like him? He’s already transferring the bail money because he knows better than to get between you and the object of your wrath.

She would be the epitome of “looks like a cinnamon roll, could actually kill you”. And she’s always so sweet… until you make her man uncomfortable.

[employee052]

update: he has been freed. the bail money worked

THEY DETAINED NARRY IM NOT EVEN JOKING

[thebeast-dennis-etcetera]

Interference Part 2

Prompt: You run to your FBI neighbor when you and your boyfriend get into a fight.

Part 1

You shut your laptop with a frustrated sigh and crossed out the last address you had written down on your pad of paper. The last two days you had been searching for a place to rent, only to be turned down due to your bad credit or limited income. You didn’t have the privilege of asking your family for help, most of them had shunned you once you got into your relationship and the few that did still speak with you were in no position to lend you money.

Your phone rang again for the 3rd time in 30 minutes, a blocked number popping up on the screen. You had ignored it the last 2 times for the fear that it was your boyfriend, but he should still be in jail with no chance of making phone calls, right?

Deciding it wouldn’t really hurt to answer it, you slid the call open and instantly regretted it once the familiar devious voice spoke to you.

“Hello bird,” he greeted with fake sincerity, using the pet name he made for you as a jab at your eating habits. The fear shot through you just as hard as the other night, rendering you speechless.

“I’m out baby. I’ll be home soon and we can sit down and talk about everything. Hopefully you were able to get the house cleaned, it was a mess the last time I was there.”

He didn’t get a chance to say anything more before you ended the call. Anxiety and fear began creeping into your body, making you scramble to grab a luggage bag from the closet before shoving some clothes, toiletries, and your laptop in it. Running into the living room, you peeked out of the curtains, hoping to see Aaron’s car in the driveway. No such luck.

So grabbing your keys, you left the house, not even bothering to lock it and threw your luggage into the backseat of your car. You tore out of the driveway and down the street like a bat out hell, unsure exactly how far away your boyfriend was. As reckless as driving 50 in a residential was, you took your chances of being pulled over and put as much distance between you and that house before dialing Aaron’s number at a red light.

“Hotchner,” he answered professionally from the other line.

“Aaron. He got out. I don’t know how, maybe his mom paid his bail. He called me and said he was on his way to me.” Your words were fast and frantic. You would've continued rambling had Aaron not stopped you.

"Y/N. Just take a deep breath for me, alright?"

The light turned green and you did as he instructed, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, it doing very little to calm your frazzled nerves but appreciated it regardless.

"Now do you have anywhere you can go, maybe a friends house or family member? Somewhere you'd be safe?"

"No," you spoke. "I don't have any friends and most of my family disowned me when I got into this stupid relationship. The rest of them live on the West Coast."

There was a pause of silence as you felt him thinking over the phone. Most likely figuring out the easiest way to get rid of you and your problems.

"Alright. I have some down time before my meeting in an hour. Why don't you come by and we can figure out a plan. I'll send you the address, just take the elevator to the 4th floor."

A second later you felt the buzz of your phone from the incoming text message. "Ok. Thank you so much Aaron. And I'm so sorry for taking up your time." Tears threatened to fall but you held them back.

"Don't be sorry, Y/N. I want to help you. Don't worry, we'll get this all sorted out. Just text me when you arrive."

"I will," you replied before you both said goodbye and hung up. You put the address in your navigation and drove mindlessly through traffic, so many thoughts going through your head it made you want to scream.

The address wasn't too far from your own homes, arriving there in less than an hour and heading into the very drab looking building before taking the elevator, texting Aaron that you had arrived on the way up.

You had just made it to the front desk before seeing Aaron headed in your direction, giving the receptionist a small smile. "She's with me Lonnette, thank you."

You waited as Lonnette printed your visitor badge and handed it over with a friendly smile before following Aaron through the floor, passing by glass offices and cubicles. You were quiet, not really in the mood for small talk which you felt he sensed and didn't bother saying anything as he lead you up some stairs to an office that you presumed was his by the gold name plaque on his desk.

"Have a seat, please," he offered politely, closing the door and walking over to his side of the desk. "Would you like something to drink? Water? Coffee?"

You shook your head. "No thank you. I appreciate the offer though."

He unbuttoned his suit jacket and sat down, moving some files to the side. "So I'm genuinely surprised to hear that he's out of jail. You said you think his mother bailed him out?"

"Yeah. I don't think she knows anything about what happened but whenever he asks her for money, she just sends it to him. I think she feels guilty for never being in his life so giving him money when he needs it helps her feel better about it." You rung your hands together, anxious about the whole situation as well as being there, talking with a man that was pretty much a complete stranger, bugging him for help.

"And he called you afterwards, telling you that he was on his way? Did he seem upset?" His tone was curious as if trying to get every piece of puzzle to fit perfectly in order to build an accurate idea of who your boyfriend was. It made sense considering his profession.

"I don't know. He's really good at hiding his anger until he snaps. He was talking like nothing had happened and we were just going to go back to normal." Your head whipped towards the open window blinds where someone was just walking by, Aaron noticing your jumpy behavior immediately.

"You're safe here. No one knows anything about what happened except you and I," he reassured you, making you relax just a little. "I don't think he'll be out of jail for long though, at least until he sees the judge for arraignment. I will personally see to that."

His words brought you a bit of placidity and hope as you still wondered why he would go through such lengths to help you out.

"I do have a small flat not far from here that I use occasionally for late nights at the office when I don't want to drive all the way home. You can stay there for now, until you find a place of your own if you'd like. Completely up to you, I don't want you to feel pressured."

Your eyes looked up from the floor to meet his, surprised by his offer.

"I- uh. I couldn't impose on you like that-

"You wouldn't be. I barely use it anymore, I prefer to be at my home with my son whenever I can."

Son? He has a son. Of course he does. He probably also has a wife or at least a girlfriend since you didn't see a ring on his finger. The thought of him with a son didn't bother you, in fact it only gave you more of a reason to trust him.

"If you're sure you don't mind," you said, trying not to sound too excited, relieved that you wouldn't have to go back to your boyfriends house. "Please let me pay some sort of rent or something though. It's the least I can do."

He shook his head no, his expression soft and nonchalant. "Don't worry about it. You're gonna need the money for your new place. Just promise me that you won't contact him or go back to that house unless you have some sort of escort, preferably by law enforcement."

You could be my escort.

You nodded in agreement, ignoring your thoughts.

“Alright then. I can send you the address and give you the keys now. I'm not sure if the fridge is stocked but feel free to add or throw anything away. There is a washer and dryer there so you can wash the sheets and anything else you need." He pulled his keys from his desk drawer and removed a ring with a single key on it, holding it out for you.

You took it gratefully and stood with him as he buttoned his suit back up and checked his watch.

"Could I at least make you dinner or something?" you blurted, not sure where such confidence came from. "I mean, I just want to do something for you in return for your incredible generosity." You couldn't stop the blush from burning your cheeks, your words successfully embarrassing yourself.

A small smile played at the corner of his mouth, showing off just the slightest sight of dimples. "I'll be with my son tonight but maybe we could grab a coffee sometime tomorrow."

You smiled back, more than satisfied with his offer and followed him out of his office, feeling a few stares from people but avoided eye contact. Aaron walked you back to the receptionist and even had her add you as a contact so visiting would be an easier feat.

"Thank you again Aaron," you spoke, the anxiety you had been feeling for the last few hours, finally beginning to dissipate. He answered with a friendly nod and you entered the elevators. Once the doors closed and you were completely alone, you took in a deep breath. Maybe everything was going to be ok like he said.

[deposedefenddeny]

Thinking of sending something to Luigi Mangione in prison? Read this first.

As a way of showing support for Luigi Mangione, much chatter has been going on about contacting or providing for him materially while he is in prison. However, one should be realistic about whether things you could send Mangione would be able to benefit from it, respond to it, or even receive it.

To be explicit: in the federal facility where Mangione is being held, in sending letters, those incarcerated are nominally limited to purchasing at most 40 domestic stamps a week; in receiving books and publications, they are limited to keeping only what can fit in the storage areas of their cells; and in receiving commissary money, they can spend only $360 of it per month.

Therefore, below is a curated list of charitable alternatives towards incarcerated people for what people are sending to Mangione, along with a Charity Navigator rating when applicable. Unless otherwise stated, all programs are limited to the United States of America.

Letters

Letters for Liberation: A prison penpaling collective that runs a public penpal program.

Prison Correspondence Project: A volunteer collective supporting LGBTQ incarcerated people in the USA and Canada, which runs a penpal program; also accepts funds to aid in sending resources and newsletters inside.

Black and Pink (rating): An organization supporting LGBTQ and HIV/AIDS positive incarcerated people, which runs a penpal program; also accepts funds for its various support programs.

Books

Books to Prisoners (rating): Distributes books nationwide; accepts funds, or used books.

LGBT Books to Prisoners (not rated): Distributes books to LGBTQ people nationwide; accepts funds, used books, or online purchases of books through wishlists.

Prison Book Program (rating): Distributes books nationwide; accepts funds, used books, or online purchases of books through wishlists.

Sex Worker Outreach Program Behind Bars: Directory of Amazon wishlists for incarcerated sex workers, trafficking victims, and survivors to purchase books directly for a person.

Women's Prison Book Program (not rated): Distributes books to cisgender and transgender women nationwide; accepts funds, used books, or online purchases of books through wishlists.

Also: check this directory of prison book programs in CA/GB/USA curated by the Prison Book Program to support a local organization more specific to a region (such as the Appalachian Book Project, serving KY, MD, OH, TN, VA, WV).

Commissary funds

The Commissary Fund (no rating): Sends commissary funds to incarcerated people in New York state.

Last Prisoner Project (rating): Among their other programs, sends commissary funds to people incarcerated for cannabis offenses.

Mission [Green] (no rating): Sends commissary funds to people incarcerated for cannabis offenses, in addition to legal advocacy.

Other forms of support

Innocence Project (rating): Criminal justice reform organization working against wrongful convictions.

The Marshall Project (rating): A nonprofit, nonpartisan news organization about the criminal justice system.

National Bail Fund Network (rating): A directory of community-led bail and bond funds throughout the nation, with the option to give to all as a collective through the directory, or pick out a specific local organization to give to.

Prison Math Project (not rated): Connects incarcerated people with mathematicians to support their interest in mathematics by correspondence.

[mugglebornmarvelite]

Flirting with Disaster

Paring: TASM!Peter Parker x Fem!Reader (Brother's bestfriend)

Summary: You're about to go on the first real date you’ve had in years, and the nerves are hitting hard. So, you turn to the one person who might help: Peter Parker, your brother’s best friend.

Word Count: Roughly 1.5k 

Warnings: Fluff, anxiety around dating, mentions of insecurities, unrequited/complicated feelings, cringe-worthy moments

Note: I’m planning on making this a three-part or a four-part. Let’s see. Oh, and I've been away from my usual shenanigans, so I am going to post twice this weekend :)

Part 2

Navigation

Divider by: @strangergraphics

You sat cross-legged on your bed, phone in hand, as if looking at it too long might make it spontaneously combust. The flutter in your stomach definitely wasn’t from hunger. 

No, tonight was the night—a real date. A proper date with an actual guy. 

And the thought of it had you wanting to crawl under your blankets and pretend the world didn’t exist.

Your friends were all in your corner, practically sending you a virtual pep squad of texts: You got this! Go for it, girl! But deep down? You felt more like a deer in headlights. Spiraling towards your impending doom.

You weren’t ready. Mentally? Nope. Emotionally? Not even close. Physically? Definitely not.

Flirting? Kissing? Oh God. It felt like you were about to attempt something far more complicated than rocket science, like you needed a PhD in how to act normally around a guy just to get through the night. And if anything even remotely intimate was on the horizon? Yeah, that sent you straight back to high school, where you could barely look at a guy without tripping over your own feet.

Talking to your brother about this? No way. He’d send you a full PowerPoint presentation on how awkward you were, followed by an Excel spreadsheet of potential embarrassing scenarios. Your mom? She’d tell you how beautiful you were and then proceed to give you every single detail of her first date with your dad, including the color of the sweater she wore and the exact type of pasta they had.

Which left you with one option.

Peter.

Peter freakin’ Parker.

He’d been your brother’s best friend since before you could remember. Still, somewhere along the way, he’d gone from being that cocky, arrogant, too-cool-for-school guy and literal genius whose favorite pass time was annoying you to someone who made your heart do a little flip every time he looked at you. The messy hair. The cocky grin. The snarky vibe that screamed I’m cooler than you, and you were just you. Awkward. Nerdy. And definitely, the girl who’d had an intense crush on him when you were younger, an embarrassing crush at that. But, for the record, you had mostly gotten over.

Mostly.

But now, with the date creeping closer and your nerves flaring up like fireworks in your chest, you were desperate. You needed help.

So you hit dial.

“Hey, little peach.” His voice slid through the phone like melted chocolate, smooth and warm, and the kind that made your chest tighten in a way you didn’t know how to process.

“Hi, Peter,” you muttered, trying to sound casual, trying and failing miserably.

“Long time, no talk. What’s up?” His voice was laced with that familiar mischief, the one that hinted he knew something was off but was enjoying every second of the suspense. “Don’t tell me you burned down your kitchen trying to make some sad excuse for pasta and now you’re too embarrassed to call the fire department? Because, if so, I’ll happily dress up as a fireman and fulfill that fantasy for you.”

You stammered, and he laughed. Loudly.

“You’re hilarious, asshole,” you grumbled.

“I try.” He chuckled. You could practically hear his smirk. “So what’s the emergency? Need bail money? Lemme see, petty theft? Destruction of public property? Actually, scratch that, even you wouldn’t pull something like that, peach.”

Peach. That damn nickname. It hit you like a sucker punch of nostalgia. You remembered summers spent trailing behind him and your brother, trying to act like you were calm and cool while you tripped over your own feet just trying to keep up with them.

You cleared your throat, doing your best to sound like you had it together. “Uh, I need a favor.”

“What kind of favor?” Peter’s tone shifted instantly, a little more serious now. “Everything okay? You’re not in actual trouble, right?”

Panic crept up your spine. Why had you called him? This was so stupid. But here you were, spilling your guts anyway.

“Uh, yes. No. I mean…” You sighed, your voice wavering. “I have a date,” you muttered, hoping he wouldn’t hear the tremble in your voice. “It’s tonight. And I’m freaking out. Like majorly.”

There was a long pause on the other end. Then, that unmistakable chuckle, the one that made you want to punch him. “Wait. Hold on. You? Freaking out about a date? I didn’t know you had it in you little miss awkward. You?” His voice dragged out the last word like it was the funniest thing he’d ever heard.

You grumbled, rolling your eyes. “Yeah, thanks for the support, asshole,” you muttered. “You’re just gonna mock me, aren’t you? This was a waste of time.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, regretting the entire call. You were better off canceling the date and hiding in your apartment with a Netflix binge and a pint of ice cream.

This was just as humiliating.

“I’m sorry for bothering you,” you mumbled. “Bye-”

“Hey, hey,” Peter interrupted. His tone softened, just a little. “I’m sorry for laughing, okay? But you know I can’t help it.”

You huffed, but something in his voice made you hesitate.

“But seriously, you? Nervous?” His voice was almost affectionate now, though he still sounded like he was having way too much fun with this. “Baby, you’re smart, you’re funny when you try, and last time I checked, you grew up gorgeous. What’s there to be nervous about, hm?”

Your heart did that weird skip thing, and you cursed your traitorous body. Baby.

He didn’t even know what he was doing to you when he said it. He said it like it was nothing—like it didn’t even matter. But it hit you harder than it should’ve. 

"Easy for you to say," you snapped back, but even as you tried to sound annoyed, there was a softness creeping into your voice. “It’s been forever since, you know, I’ve had to, like, flirt or kiss or whatever. I don’t want to make a fool of myself.”

There was a long pause. Then, Peter’s voice came through, low and laced with mischief. “Wait a second. Are you asking me to teach you how to flirt? I’m honored, peach.”

“What? No!” You nearly dropped the phone in your panic. “I…wait! No! That’s not what I meant!”

“Oh, but now I have to,” Peter said, sounding far too pleased with himself. “Come over. I’ll help you practice. Flirting, kissing, whatever you need.”

You gaped at the phone, heat rushing to your face. “You can’t be serious.”

“Come on, peach,” he continued a dangerous lilt in his tone. “You used to trust me with everything. Like that time you tried to ride my skateboard when you were, what, ten? You ate it so bad I thought your brother was gonna faint. But I carried you home, dried your tears, and made you laugh instead of cry. You know I’ve got you.”

You closed your eyes, cringing at the memory. You’d been ten, desperate to prove you weren’t just the annoying little sister of his best friend. You’d failed miserably, but Peter hadn’t laughed at you. Well, at least, not until after he made sure you were fine.

"Oh my god," you muttered, cringing at the thought. "I was a mess back then."

Peter’s voice softened, but that smirk was still there. "You were adorable, though. Adorable," he teased, his voice dripping with something almost affectionate. "Especially with those rainbow bandages on your knees. I swear, I could’ve sold tickets to that disaster."

“Don’t remind me,” you muttered, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks.

“So, come on over,” he pressed. “I’ll give you a crash course. I’m talking flirting 101, kissing for dummies, the whole shebang. You can thank me later.”

You bit your lip, and for a moment, you weren’t sure if you were blushing from memory or how his words made your stomach flip.

You hesitated for a second. This was ridiculous. 

"Peach, you still with me?" His voice broke through your thoughts. "What's your decision?"

But you sighed, giving in. “Alright,” you said before you could stop yourself. “Fine. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

“Good girl,” Peter purred into the phone, and you froze. His voice sent a shock through your system that left you breathless. Suddenly, the whole flirting crash course didn’t feel like a joke anymore.

You knew he was messing with you, but it didn’t stop your skin from flushing.

You stared at your phone, wondering what you’d just gotten yourself into.

Peter Parker was going to help you with your love life. No big deal, right?

You weren’t that kid anymore. You definitely didn’t have a crush on Peter Parker.

“Don’t give me that look,” you glared at your stuffed animal as it silently judged you with its big brown eyes. “I don’t have a crush on him anymore.”

That’s what you told yourself, anyway.

Mostly.

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed!

Tags: @ficcharsimp

If you'd like to be added to my taglist

Much love x

- Maeve

[padawansuggest]

Do you think the clones know about espresso? Do you think they know caf comes in a condensed and bitter form?

CODY’S SPACEBUCKS ORDER THAT ONE 17 SHOT ESPRESSO AND FIVE PUMPS OF BLUEBERRY SYRUP THAT THE BARISTAS WILL REMEMBER IN HORROR FOR THE REST OF THEIR LIVES

Fox just replaces his water with espresso and ends up in medical within a week for the resulting rage he unleashed on the senate and probably a single lightsaber ouchie (the doctors will kiss it better) when Palpatine thought Fox was trying to murder him.

Anyways. Cody bats his pretty eyelashes at Obi-Wan who in turn bats his pretty eyelashes at Bail who in turn buys them a ten thousand credit espresso machine and Cody never has to deal with the SpaceBucks workers looking at him Like That again. Also his orders were all like 50 credits each and that was really cutting into his stolen credit card money.

Anyways. Obi-Wan becomes used to dirty chai lattes because it’s the only tea that Cody consistently gets right for him out of some sort of horrible spite. He loves his adorable caffeinated monster so much. He’s gonna bat his pretty eyelashes at Bail and convince him to send them on a fancy vacation. Bail is a fan of anything that gets these menaces to his chastity out of his office.

Anakin once mixed up his caf mug and a can of grease while working on a new droid in Padme’s space garage while less than half awake because him and Padme are trading off who’s watching the twins to keep them from getting out of their cribs with the force, and trust me, he didn’t notice till a couple gulps in, and yes, he made this everyone else’s problem. Rex had to hold his hair back while he puked. Ahsoka is the one that switched his mug and the can of oil.

Fox drinks herbal tea now.

Fives once made coffee but replaced the water with monster and Echo still thinks of it and weeps sometimes. Why did he do that??? The smell was radioactive.

Omega pouts at Hunter whenever he drinks caf around her because ewwwww but he’s too dad shaped to stop that is his fuel, come on kid, let’s go fishing. Horrible. She would like to be unadopted plz (if you stop cuddling her she WILL tantrum thanks.)

Bail Organa for Chancellor, this is all. Elect him for the title because he’s the hardest working man in the galaxy. (Plz don’t fucking elect him he would like to go home to his wife next week he’s exhausted.)

[l3irdl3rain]

THEY PUT MY BOY IN JAIL!!! PLEASE SEND BAIL MONEY. OR ELSE DONATE FOR HIS CIGARETTE FUND FOR WHEN HE INEVITABLY GOES TO PRISON

[mymindisneverhere]

FAVORS (5)

Part Five

warnings: 18+, MDNI!, SMUT, sub!Terry, soft dom!black fem OC, oral sex (male receiving), unprotected sex, dirty talking, lil bit of angst, explicit language, lots of dialogue, slow burn (forgive me if I missed any)

Masterlist

*Knock Knock Knock* 

Khloé went to open the door without even looking through the peephole. She swung the door open and stood there for a few seconds. 

“Can I come in or do you just wanna stare at me?” Terry smirked. His expression quickly became serious as he saw that her demeanor hadn’t changed. 

‘What did I do now?’ He thought. 

Khloé turned and walked away. He followed behind her, quickly shutting the door and locking it. He walked deeper into the room and stopped once she turned around to face him. 

She wore a soft pink slip dress that fit snug to her body, with small slits down the sides, showcasing her round hips. Her hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail and her lips were bare

“Is something wrong?” He asked, eyebrows raised in concern. 

Khloé took her eyes off of him and looked around the room until her gaze landed on her dining table. She walked over to the set, pulling one of the chairs out and away from the table. 

“Sit.”

Terry eyed her skeptically as he made his way over to the chair. He sat down on the soft cushion in the seat and spread his feet apart, hands rested against his legs. 

Khloé walked out of his view to the small closet by the entrance. He heard some ruffling for a few seconds until the door snapped shut. She reappeared back into the open area, stern eyes locked on him. He looked down at her hands to see rope hanging from her grasp. 

“I have a couple of questions for you.” She stopped directly in front of him. “Because I’m under the impression that you’ve been lying to me and I don’t like being lied to.” Khloé placed the items on the table and looked down at him. 

“If you give me the wrong answer, you remove what I tell you to remove.” 

She stood in front of him, hands behind her back, chest on full display. He stared directly at her breasts. The slip she wore was so thin he could see her dark nipples through the dress. He licked his lips, excited for whatever she was about to task him with. Staring unapologetically, he could feel his dick growing in his pants, completely unaware of what was to come. 

“Who is Summer McBride?” 

“She’s family.” He responded confidently. 

“Watch.” She instructed, looking down at his wrist. 

He looked up at her to read her expression. It remained the same, still and unpleasant. He unhooked his watch, still eyeing her as he took his time removing the accessory. He placed the watch onto the table and returned back to his initial position. 

“Let’s try this again, who is Summer McBride to you?” 

He paused before answering. “She’s a woman I met in Shelby Springs. She’s like family to me.” 

“But she’s not an actual relative though, is she?” 

“No ma’am but-“ He answered, ignoring her eyes. 

“So you did lie to me?” She tilted her head. “Shoes.” 

“I didn’t lie t-“

“Shoes!” She spat, uninterested in whatever he was about to say. 

He let out a breath as reached down to untie his work shoes one at a time before kicking them to the side.

“Why did you have me send her $16,000?” 

“She helped me with the bail money for my cousin. She also played a part in uncovering some of the corruption in the city. I just wanted to return the favor.” He spoke remorsefully. 

Khloé looked down at him, noticing the guilty look on his face. “You said she was in need of assistance, so that was another lie?” 

“I can expl-“

“Shirt.” 

He huffed as he reached down and raised the company shirt above his head, pulling each arm out of the sleeves and tossing it to the floor. Sitting back against the chair, he continued staring down at the floor awaiting the next question. 

“A woman, who you met not that long ago, is bringing you lunch that you left behind at her home?” 

He remained silent. 

“Why were you there?” 

“She was nervous about the money popping up out of nowhere, I just stopped by to ease her anxiety.” 

“A phone call or text wouldn’t suffice?” 

“Well, yes but I wanted to-“

“Pants.” 

His eyebrows bent as he stared up at her, frustrated at the fact that he couldn’t even finish his sentences without her cutting him off. She lifted a brow as if she were repeating herself without having to. He stood from the chair, standing over her while he undid his pants. She was eye level with his bare chest, watching as it flexed with his movement. 

Terry stared down at her, seeing the mixture of anger and lust in her expression. He dropped his pants and stepped out one foot at a time, kicking them off to the side. 

“Keep standing.” Her eyes shifted to his, which were already on hers. “Were you involved with her?” 

“No ma’am.” 

“So you had me send her that much money just to say thank you?” Khloé folded her arms in disbelief. 

“She has a daughter who needs better schooling, I wanted to help her the same way she helped me.” 

Her weight shifted to her right leg. “What does her daughter have to do with you?” 

Terry took a deep breath before responding. “If you’re trying to ask me if I’m the father of her daughter, the answer is no.”

“So Mr. Richmond is such a noble man that he sent the majority of the money I offered him to a woman for her daughter who he has absolutely no ties to whatsoever?” She laughed, sarcasm lacing every word. 

“Yes.” He answered harshly. 

She squinted, sensing the sincerity in his voice. Her eyes darted back and forth between his. He may have been telling the truth but he had still broken one of her rules.  

“Okay, let’s say I believe you.” She stepped around him, behind the chair and grabbed the black rope from the dining table. “You’re still in violation of one of my rules. What was rule number 2?” 

“Break up with whoever I was dating. But I wasn’t dating anyone.” Terry answered, looking over his shoulder at her. 

“I also told you not to have any women popping up asking for you.” She shot back, undoing the rope in her hands. “Boxers.” 

He let out a deep sigh as he ran his thumbs against the waist of his underwear and pushed them down. She looked down at his bare ass, licking her lips. 

“Sit down.”

He obliged.

She pulled both of his arms behind the chair and tied the rope tightly around his wrists. “Do you like when I’m being a bitch to you Mr. Richmond?”

“I don’t recall you ever being that nice to me in the first place.” 

She walked around the chair to face him and grabbed his jaw pushing his head back forcefully. 

“You’re gonna learn to watch that smart ass mouth of yours.” His jaw clenched in her hands.

She slowly bent down to tie his ankles to each leg of the chair. He watched her as she tied the restraints and noticed a blind fold in her hands. Now standing, she tied it around his head covering his eyes for now. 

“I’m not gonna hurt you too bad but if you decide to bitch out, let me know.” She whispered into his ear and licked his earlobe. She bit down on his ear, noticing the change in his breathing. She trailed down to his jaw until she got to his lips. Kissing him for a moment she allowed him to fall into her rhythm before she bit down on his bottom lip. This wasn’t the moment for intimacy, she needed to make one thing very clear to him.  

“My rules are to be followed.” 

Khloé ran her hands down his body, feeling every muscle, every vein, every piece of him. Her hands traced down his abdomen until she reached his dick. She rested on her knees as she came face to face with it. 

Tracing the veins in his dick with her tongue, she followed them all the way up to the tip, teasing him. He cursed when he felt the warmth of her tongue on him, making his stomach flex a bit. She licked him again, embracing the taste of him on her tongue. 

“If you followed my rules, you would be inside me however you choose right now.” She said, placing wet kisses along the shaft.

“I d-didn’t know she w-would pop up.” He barely managed above a whisper.  

She wrapped her lips around his dick and sucked on the head, her tongue rubbing against the underside of it. She slowly raked her teeth against his shaft, noticing his teeth clench at the feeling. Pushing down on his dick, she sucked him dreadfully slow, taking every inch of him with in then pulling back and spitting on his tip. 

“Oh fuck.” 

“She shouldn’t have come looking for you.” 

The sounds of her sucking him filled his ears instantly. The only thing he was forced to focus on was the pleasure he was getting from her and the noises that came with it. His mouth hung open as she sucked him, turning him into the bitch she knew he’d be as the minutes rolled by. 

She moved her hand, pushing her head all the way down until all of him disappeared into her mouth. She stayed there for a few seconds until she felt herself gag then raised her head up. The thick strings of spit that hung between the two of them made her clit throb. The enjoyment she got from throating him was very clear as he heard her moan each time she did it. The more she gagged, the wetter she became, the more he felt his nut rising.

“Aw look at you, you’re so helpless.” Her voice had switched from harsh and cruel to soft and sensual. The way his dick jumped each time she spoke, she knew it was driving him crazy. “I love seeing you like this.” 

Unable to move, only allowed to receive the pleasure she was giving him. She sucked him sloppily, moaning at the feeling of him hitting her throat, letting all that built in it run down his dick. 

“Shit.” He said through gritted teeth. His body tensed as he felt his nut brewing. She felt his dick stiffen in her mouth so she pulled back, painfully sending him back down the ladder. 

“Are there any more women I should know about Mr. Richmond?” 

“No ma’am.” He grunted. 

The frustration in his tone caused a soft giggle to escape her lips. She grabbed his dick once again, rubbing the tip against her wet lips before licking it again. His dick was glistening, along with the bottom half of her face. Running her thumb under his balls she lifted them, licking and sucking while stroking his dick, squeezing the tip every now and again. 

“Fuuuck, I’m s-sorry.” He breathed out. The feeling of her toying with his heavy balls and his dick all at once had him in a frenzy. He wanted to cum so badly but she wasn’t gonna let that happen anytime soon. Every time she sensed his nut building, she’d stop just to watch his frustration grow on his face. 

Terry dropped his head back as his lips parted, loving and hating every second of this pleasure he was getting. On one hand it was everything he wanted but on the other hand the edging was tormenting him.  

However, Khloé was thoroughly enjoying herself. Her pleasure was coming solely from the feeling of his hard dick in her mouth and his inability to breathe or speak clearly. If she really wanted to she could give him head all night, that’s just how much she was loving his reactions. 

Khloé dragged her tongue across his balls once more before spitting on them and licking it all back up to his dick. The sound alone made him let out a deep moan. He was past the point of trying to maintain his composure. She was breaking him down one second at a time. 

She slapped his dick against her tongue and looked up at him, the expression on his face swarmed with desperation as his eyebrows furrowed. 

“I think I need to see those eyes when I finally let you cum.” She reached up behind him to untie the blindfold. 

His eyes fluttered open once the blind fold was removed, the soft blend of green and gray filled his irises. He looked at her, the sight sending him right back up the ladder she had just forced him down once again. She stroked his dick, letting the head hit her lips as she stared directly into his eyes. 

“You wanna cum don’t you Mr. Richmond?” She asked, licking him as he opened his mouth to respond. 

“Fuck y-yes.” He whimpered. 

“What’s the magic word?” A sly grin on her face. 

“P-please.” 

She proudly sucked him, allowing her hunger for him to completely take over. He watched her go to work on him. His legs jerked against the restraints, while the muscles in his stomach flexed violently. His dick was beginning to stiffen once again and she kept throating him, still staring directly at him. He closed his eyes tightly, finally releasing all of the built up tension in her mouth. 

“Ah fuuuuuuuck.” His voice roared through the room as she continued sucking, not stopping until his sack was totally empty. His head dropped forward, as his body folded inward on its own. His body jerked again and again as she continued her motion, showing no remorse. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He chanted through clenched teeth, veins popping out his neck.

Finally letting up, she pulled back and rested a hand on his leg. His body slowly began to relax as he let out a deep breath. Opening his eyes, he looked down at her as she stuck her tongue out, mouth full of his DNA. She closed her mouth and swallowed then wrapped her lips around him one last time just to be sure she got all of what she wanted. 

“Ssss-shit.” He hissed, trying to fight against the natural reaction his body was having once again, twitching and jerking against the chair. 

She released her grip and stood to her feet. He took this time to regain his composure. His head hung as he breathed heavily, nostrils flaring with every breath. 

“I’m not done with you.” She pushed the straps of the dress off of her shoulders and let it drop to the floor. Straddling him, she placed sloppy kisses down his neck, biting and tugging on his skin. 

Khloé lifted her hips and positioned his semi-hard dick right at her entrance. She slid down slowly, squeezing her walls purposely to watch the agony spread across his face. He clenched his jaw at the feeling of her tight pussy on his now sensitive head. 

Sitting all the way down, she began rolling her hips, bouncing up and down on him. He tried his hardest to avoid her gaze, dropping his head to her shoulder. He didn’t want to tap out but she was doing a number on him. 

“Look at me.” She spat, grabbing his jaw and forcing his eyes back on hers. She bit down on her bottom lip as she continued fucking him. The look on his face was bringing her flood to the surface faster and faster. 

“This dick belongs to me don’t it daddy?” She asked, completely out of her body. 

“Yes ma’am.” 

She continued rocking her hips on him, chasing her own orgasm while also conjuring up another from him. The sounds of her ass slapping against his thighs echoed throughout the room. 

“Are you gonna lie to me again?” 

“N-no ma’am.” He was struggling to hold himself together. 

“Good boy.” 

She threw her head back, completely caught up in her own pleasures. Her hand slid down to his neck, while the other fondled with her nipples. He watched her as she used him like a toy solely for her enjoyment, not caring about his. 

His stomach began to flex once again as her pussy tightened around him. 

“Fuuuck I’m about to cum all over this dick.” She moaned.

Her voice was like kryptonite for him at this point. Announcing her own climax had his coming right along with hers. 

“Oh shit.” He groaned loudly.

“Yes, give it to me!” She demanded through gritted teeth. 

They came in unison, loudly cursing each other until they couldn’t take anymore. Her body bucked along with his as she held onto him with her hands wrapped around the back of his neck. Bringing her movements to a stop, she let out a few deep breaths.

Terry dropped his head, completely wrecked and defeated while the rest of his body went limp. She finally brought her gaze back down to him and placed her head against his. They both sat for a while, silent and out of breath. 

Minutes passed and the room fell completely still. They both returned to their normal states, heartbeats rested, breathing steady. Khloé sat up and looked down at him, gently lifting his chin. His eyes were barely open.

“Omitting information is lying to me. I need to know everything and everyone.” She spoke softly. She caressed his face and placed a kiss on his lips. “Come, shower with me.” 

Terry stepped out of the bedroom and made his way into the kitchen, following the aroma that spread throughout her place. He stopped just a few feet out of her view. Khloe was preparing a late night dinner for the two of them.

He watched as she stood over the stove, flicking her wrists and tossing in seasonings in left and right. She was deep in her element. Her movement around the kitchen was swift, humming to herself, a small smile on her face. 

“You’re not the only one with great ears Mr. Richmond.” She spoke, not bothering to look up at him. “Or should I say ex-Marine.” 

Terry chuckled, finally stepping into the kitchen and taking a seat at the island. After their shower Khloé gave him a plain white T-Shirt and gray sweats to lounge in. Some old clothes she had purchased for an ex-lover that he never got to wear. 

“I didn’t wanna interrupt your flow.” 

She giggled, turning off the eyes on the stove. 

“There’s a very important event coming up and I need you there with me.” She started. 

“What’s the occasion?” 

Khloé let out a deep breath, clearly annoyed. “My mothers 60th birthday party,” She rolled her eyes. “There is no dress code but I would prefer you’d wear an outfit I picked out for you.” 

Khloé reached up into the cabinets next to her refrigerator and grabbed two large white plates. She carefully plated the meal she prepared for Terry and herself. Two 8oz steaks cooked medium, grilled onions, asparagus and creamy mashed potatoes sat beautifully on the expensive plates as she carried them over to him. Grabbing a tall bottle of her favorite red wine from her wine rack, she poured a decent amount into two wine glasses and took a seat next to Terry. 

“This looks really good.” He said in surprise, looking down at his plate. 

“When I’m not traveling to spy on the warehouses, I’m perfecting my cooking skills.” She smiled, taking a sip from her glass. 

“I have to admit, I'm very surprised.” Terry glanced over at her. 

“There’s a lot to learn about me Mr. Richmond.” 

“I’m listening, if you’re interested in sharing Ms. MacArthur.” He said, grabbing his utensils and digging into the meal that sat before him. 

Khloé placed her wine glass down and stared at him. She was only joking but he sat quietly, waiting for her response. She was taken aback at his genuine interest in her. Not her money or her popularity in the city, but simply her. 

She told him all about her dreams of becoming a chef and owning her own restaurant downtown someday. Ever since she was a teenager she loved being in the kitchen and coming up with new recipes. Having rich parents who spent most of their time perfecting the family business and less time building bonds with her caused her to spend most of her younger years studying their private chef as she prepared dinner for the family every night. 

After sharing her dreams and aspirations with her family, her mother in particular didn’t seem to believe that culinary arts should be the path Khloé should choose. Khloés looks were supposed to get her the richest man in town, connected with high class social groups and the privilege of being a housewife and mother to beautiful children.

“MacArthur women do not serve people, people serve MacArthur women.” Khloé stated, mimicking her mothers deep, condescending tone.

Khloé didn't see her future the way that her mother saw it, however disappointing her mother was far worse than going after her own happiness. Although she hated the duties of checking in on the warehouses and attending the events for her family’s business, she didn’t want to be a traitor and ruin her fathers legacy. 

“As long as everyone else is happy, I’m happy.” Khloé finished with a forced grin on her face. 

“Are you really happy?” Terry looked over at her with a raised brow. He could see the obvious discomfort in her face but he didn’t care much, he truly wanted to know.

“I have a nice condo in the heart of the city, I drive luxury vehicles, I have expensive clothing pieces, I have a man at my beck and call. Why wouldn’t I be?” 

Terry chuckled at that last part, shaking his head at himself and her. 

“I don’t know-“ Terry started, “-it just seems like living a life that everyone else wants you to live instead of the one you choose would be hell. I mean yeah you have nice things but do you genuinely enjoy them? Or do you feel like you have to because of who helped you get them?” 

Khloé shifted her gaze down to her plate, picking at her potatoes. She wanted so badly to shoot back with a quick witted response but she couldn’t because he was right. But how could she just up and decide to go against everything and everyone who worked so hard to get her here? The thought of it alone brought her a feeling of anxiousness. 

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to upset you.” 

“No it’s fine really.” Khloé stated, stopping him from feeling any guilt about what he had said. “You’re not wrong at all but how can I throw all of this away? I can choose to live a life that is fulfilling and makes me happy but it’s so much easier said than done. The cost would be far too great.” 

Terry shrugged his shoulders and sat back in his chair. 

“I think if you start small and work your way up it’ll get easier as time passes.” Terry laid his fork down on his now empty plate. “You don’t have to make such drastic changes all at once nor do you have to announce it to anybody, just take one step at a time. Before you know it, you’re exactly where you wanna be.” 

She stared at him, hanging on to every word. 

“The cost would be worth it in the end though right?” He asked. 

Khloé looked at his glass that had gone untouched. “You haven’t touched your wine.” She said changing the subject. Terry took note of this but decided against steering back in that direction, not wanting to be too pushy. 

“I don’t drink.” 

“Why not?” 

Terry shook his head as he broke eye contact with her. Memories of the past ran through his mind as he tried to come up with a response. 

“It’s just not for me.” 

Khloé nodded her head slowly before grabbing his glass. “Well it can be for me then.” She joked, tossing the bottom of the glass in the air. 

Terry laughed at her carelessness. As the night went on, Khloé dove right back into her dream restaurant. She told him how she wanted it to look, the food she’d serve, the celebrities that would come and visit just to taste her delicious food. The way she lit up as she spoke so openly about her dream made Terry smile. Her excitement was similar to that of a small child, dreaming fearlessly. 

*BUZZ BUZZ* 

Khloé opened her eyes, frowning from the loud vibrations that were coming from the coffee table. As she slowly came into reality, she could hear soft snoring coming from just above her head. Her hand rested on his chest that rose and fell in a rhythm with every snore. 

*BUZZ BUZZ* 

The cell phone on the table lit up as the loud vibrations continued again. It was Terry's phone. She lifted her head and looked down at the table, annoyed from its loud notifications. Sitting up slowly, making sure not to disturb him, she picked up the phone and read the text message that appeared on the screen. 

Summer:

Can you stop by tomorrow? I’m having some problems with my car. Can’t get it to start. 

Khloé read the text message and looked over at Terry to see him still fast asleep, one arm rested above his head, the other in his lap. The thoughts roaming through her head were becoming louder and louder as she tried to push them away. 

‘You don’t want to be old and alone.’ She could hear her mothers voice loud and clear in her mind. 

Khloé debated on deleting the message so that Terry wouldn’t have a reason to go visit Summer again. She knew her insecurities were getting the best of her and she didn’t want them to ruin this thing she had with Terry, whatever this “thing” was. No matter who she was, there was no amount of money or compliments that would make her feel worthy of having any man by her side. But for the first time in a long time she actually felt seen only after a brief conversation. 

For the first time in almost a decade, she had opened up about something she kept secret. She wasn’t sure if it was the liquor or the amount of comfort she felt while speaking to him, but regardless she didn’t want the feeling to go away so soon. Surprisingly, he hadn’t made her feel as if her dream was far-fetched. After their talk, it actually felt like it could be real someday, like it could be closer than ever before. 

She stared back down at the phone, sighing to herself, she decided to simply turn it off instead. She placed it back down on the table and returned to his chest, shuffling to try and sink deeper into him as she fell back asleep. Naturally he wrapped his arm around her waist, never waking out of his slumber. The more Khloé tried to force herself back to sleep, the more she could hear her mothers voice in her mind.

‘If you don’t make your presence top priority in a man’s life, you’ll lose him to someone less deserving.’ 

to be continued… 

[deceitfuldevout]

Highest Bidder

Dark!Robert Fishcher x Sugarbaby!Reader

Word Count: +3,066

Warning(s): +18, Non con, Loss of virginity, Human auction, Housewife kink, Breeding kink, Misogynistic remarks, Insults, Just plain abuse, Robert is a warning himself.

Author's Note(s): I have been thinking about this for a hot minute. Inspired by @mypoisonedvine Robert Fischer fic go check it out!!

You couldn't stop checking your phone for an update. He was supposed to be here an hour ago. Did he bail? Part of you had hoped so. It would make things a lot easier. Years ago, if someone had told you that you'd be auctioning off your virginity, well, the first thing you'd do is laugh in their face.

That was before everything went to shit. Your parents ended up in neck-deep debt trying to pay off your college, borrowing money from some sleazy loaner company. Soon having no choice but to debate on filing for bankruptcy. Everything they've worked hard for, gone. You didn't want them to worry about that anymore.

This wasn't a huge deal for you. Personally, you've never had any luck with guys and would rather get this over with. Growing up you were always the awkward, ugly duckling of the friend group, so a boyfriend was out of the picture. Only sharing an innocent kiss with a childhood friend, but that was a long time ago. It was only after you reached your 20's where you began to bloom.

He'd bought your outfit and covered the cost of everything. He wants you ready and waiting for him, all wrapped up like a pretty present. He's very particular about these things, even making a list of errands to run before the big day. He requested for photos of the hair and makeup you'd be wearing for the evening. Scolding you every time you did something he disliked. He wouldn't even try hiding it. You reread his previous text message: Change the makeup. It makes you look like a cheap whore. You scoff at the response...how rude.

Even before all of this he would try to test your patience. Sending messages like, 'Do you know who I am? You should be more grateful that I'm giving you this much attention," or "Anyone would be lucky to be in your position,' which made you physically roll your eyes. This morning, he had given you a call as a reminder of where you would meet. He send you the hotel address with money for a cab.

He made sure to give you call in the afternoon as a reminder of what to do after arriving, ending it with, "I don't want to hear any complaining when I get there." before hanging up. You grumble a stray of curse words, this had better been worth it...

You couldn't believe your eyes on how luxurious the hotel was. It's entrance had been decorated with marble and brass statues. There wasn't a drop of it that didn't scream 'money'. You sheepishly sign in, allowing a worker to carry your bag to the room. It had taken a while before you could reach the top. Part of you was impressed, he had really gone all out.

As soon as you enter the room there was this sort of romantic ambiance to it. From the lighting, to the breathtaking scenery of the city. It was all so...dreamy. But this was no dream. You were going to have sex for the first time with some old, rich geezer, gross. You take note of a shopping bag left on the bed, opening it to find a lingerie set.

You held the fabric, inspecting the material. White lace, with hints of glitter that shine in the light. At least the old man has good taste. You take a look at yourself in the mirror, humming at the sight of it. Not bad...hell, you looked fantastic.

Suddenly the door knob jingles, then a heavy knock follows. You leapt from the bed, approaching to open the door for him. But before you could reach the knob it slams open. A man enters, sporting a well-tailored suit, dressed to the nines from head-to-toe. His hair is combed back, a few strands dangle against his forehead. As you scan the man's face, you couldn't help but notice how handsome he was.

There's a light rosy hue to his cheeks. You first notice the striking blues of his eyes and how long his lashes are. He looks like he'd have no problem at all searching for someone. So what is he doing paying for someone like you? For a moment, you were in awe of his presence. Staring back at the man like a deer caught in headlights.

The meeting today had taken its toll on Robert. He was supposed to meet with you hours ago, but there had been an emergency with the company's shareholders. He could practically feel his blood boiling, to the point where it felt almost difficult to breathe. He tugs his tie off and yanks for his shirt to open, a few buttons go flying. He lets out a huff, scanning the room with his blue orbs for something, more specifically, someone.

"So you're the one I've been talking to eh?" a hint of humor in his voice, "Let me guess, you're a good girl caught up in the wrong crowd? Is that it?" he taunts, "I'm sure you've 'never' done this before," the corners of his mouth turn upward into a sinister grin. His eyes are emotionless. Cold as ice. Yet why did they seem so comforting? As if you've seen them before.

He drops his suitcase at the end of the bed, turning towards you. He eyes you up and down, as if he were deep in thought, "Give me a spin," and of course you follow his orders. He raises a brow, "Come here," he commands. You stare back at him, unsure of what he'd just said. Robert sighs, he doesn't have time for this. He's slightly drunk and exhausted from work. Right now he just wants some hard, animalistic fucking.

He tugs your underwear to the side, examining his prize. He bunches up the waistband of your panties before yanking the fabric down. You held your breath, now riddled with anxiety. This was a bit too...casual for comfort. He fists the fabric, holding it to the side while the other hand held your hip.

His voice is deep, much deeper in person, "Hold it for me," he wants to get a good look at his purchase. His thick fingers slide down your pubic area, grazing against the bare skin, he hums, "Even waxed yourself like I told you to, good girl." he slaps the side of your hip, as if he were examining livestock. Your stomach coils at the realization. Never in your life have you felt so...objectified. Still, now wasn't the time to back down. He pushes you against a desk. Until you were now leaning on the table.

He spreads your folds with his thick digits, examining them closely. He held your clit between his fingers, pinching it lightly. You let out a whine from the sensation, bucking your hips from the sudden discomfort. He retreats his hand before flipping you over. His chest now against your back. He pushes you against the table, bending you over for a better view. He was in no rush.

He rubs his fingers over your bare slit. His thumb caresses your bundle of nerves. As soon as he retreats you finally snap the fabric back in place. Now lowering your head with embarrassment. He grips your chin, lifting it until you're face-to-face, "No don't hide from me now..." he plops himself on a chair, tilting his chin up, "Why don't you make yourself useful and help me get this off?"

If you weren't getting paid you would've scoffed at his rudeness. It was obvious he was into power play. Being in total control of everything. Now wasn't the time for letting your emotions emotions get involved. You help him remove his coat and tie, even unbuttoning the rest of his shirt. He's still wearing his pants, now unclasped. He stares you down, a smirk now lingering on his cold features, "Take off your clothes,"

When you start to quickly unclasp the garter belt, Robert's voice booms, "Stop." he orders, "Do it slower," he leans back in the recliner, already palming his erection. You shyly unclasp your belt, letting the straps fall off each shoulder. His hand grazes on an exposed breast, sending shivers down your spine.

He chuckles, "Oh...don't tell me you're that sensitive?" a crude remark. Your brows furrow, why did he have to tease you so? He notices your obvious discomfort, "Don't worry darling, your only job is to fuck," as if that would make things better, "Do you know how to suck cock?" he questions. You give him a hesitant nod, "No...I've never done it before this is my first time--"

"I didn't ask for a whole life story,"

"...No," your lips press in a thin line. He was really pushing it, "So you've never had sex or sucked cock before, tell me, what have you done?" he pulls out his member, already hard and leaking. It's tip was flush pink, the same as his lips. He spits into his palm before working himself up, he knows you're nervous. He wants you to be intimidated by him. He pumps his shafts with slow strokes, "Tell me, what gets you off..." he sighs.

You look down to your feet, suddenly his voice booms, "No, do not look away," to which you began to tear up. His voice is soft now, "Sweetheart, look at me," he huffs. You look up at him now with tearful eyes, he groans, "Oh...that's it..." stroking his cock faster. A finger points directly at you in a 'come hither' motion. You walk towards him, still eyeing his shaft. How was that going to fit?

You felt warm despite the lack of clothing, there's a pooling sensation between your legs. He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you into his lap. His tongue darts against a breast. He teases the bud with his teeth. He made sure it was swollen and sensitive before giving attention to the other breast.

You never knew it could feel this...good. As soon as your hands reach for his hair he instantly stops, Robert remembers the reason why you're here. It wasn't to see him. You only wanted one thing, and he doesn't have time to play pretend. He just came here to collect what he's owed. At the end of the day, you were just a hired whore. He swats both hands away, giving you the cold shoulder. He lifts himself from the seat, throwing you against the carpet. You're confused at the sudden mood swing. It frightens you. Where the hell did that come from?

"It's a shame, you were doing so well," Robert sits up, his leaking cock now presses against his abdomen. He's pissed. He paid you for your time, you were suppose to focus only on his needs. Every word that came from his mouth dripped with anger, "It seems like you need a reminder on whore etiquette," he knows you've probably fucked a few before him, this was all part of your little roleplay act.

"I'm not a whore!" you detest lying, what made him not believe you? Forget it...this wasn't worth an argument, "You know what? You can take your money back asshole! Fuck this and fuck you--" a hand grips around your neck. He'll have to show you a thing or two of what comes with selling yourself out, especially to a complete stranger. You've always knew deep down that you'd regret your first, but this was downright terrifying.

This man, he didn't even see you as a person. As a human being. To him, this was all a transaction that was paid for, "What did you think that website was for? It's a human auction. Not just your cunt. Meaning I own your ass for the next few hours," he leans in, pressing his nose against yours, he growls, "Remember your place..."

Robert pulls you up by the hair, throwing you onto the bed. You scramble to get away but he's much stronger. He began to wrestle you. To which you land a slap on his cheek, hard enough to leave a mark. You pause, now too scared to move. He touches the tender skin, it would surely leave a bruise tomorrow. Which just so happens to be an important meeting, "You little bitch..." he grips your jaw until it aches, forcing your mouth to open.

He takes the opportunity to spit inside, covering your mouth and pinching your nose. You felt like you wanted to gag. Finally, after fighting to hold your breath, you swallow. He grins, "See? even if you try to fight me, I always get what I want..."

You, of all people, should know this about him. Instead you try putting up a fight, "I hate you! I hate you! Let me go!" thrashing around. Both of his hands now pressed against your throat. He scolds, "If you want it to hurt I'll make it hurt like nothing else..." he flips you over, pressing his body against your own, making it harder to breathe.

He lets his pants slide down. Tugging off his boxers. He spits a wad into his hand, that should be enough to get comfortable, for him. But for you? Well, he wants it to hurt you. Otherwise, how will you learn? Whores like you deserve to feel pain. That's what you get for teasing him in your photos. He growls into your ear, "Time to try my pussy..."

He yanks down your panties before pressing his leaking tip against your opening. He muffles your cries in his palm. You couldn't hold back the tears. This man is going to break you! As retaliation you tilt your head to the side and bit into his forearm. He grunts from the pain, it only encourages him to carry out your punishment. He thrusts harder, grinding down his hips to reach as deep as he could go.

You sob from the pain, going limp from shock. All you could do was cry into his hand, bracing yourself against the cushioning below. You turned your head to face the mirror, taking a good look at your own sad, pathetic reflection. You were being dominated by a complete stranger. How did it get to this point? When did you become so pathetic? So desperate to the point where you became a whore for hire?

He held you close to his chest. He knows now you're too tired to fight him off. He kept jutting his hips back and fourth, moaning in your ear with a deep grumble. You could smell the alcohol and cigarettes on his breath. It repulses you. The only sounds that could be heard in the room were of skin-to-skin slapping, Robert's insults, and your muffled cries.

"Fuck....fuck m'gonna cum..." he grunts. He rubs his nose against the crook of your neck, inhaling the sweet scented perfume. He drags his face across the soft, supple skin. He can tell by the shimmer that you applied an expensive lotion earlier. Of course you wanted him, what woman wouldn't? He's handsome, rich, successful, he's the entire package.

So why were you begging for him not to finish inside? You were just being stubborn, that's all. He'll have to remind you of who's in charge, "I bought this pussy fair and square. If I want to put a baby in it, then bitch, I will," he sinks his teeth into your shoulder, biting until the skin breaks. He doesn't stop thrusting his hips. Plunging his cock deep inside to coat your womb. He moans, furrowing his brows from the feeling of your velvety walls.

"You think you're better than me huh? Old enough to fuck but not old enough to get knocked up, yeah fucking right" he huffs, "You just wanted an excuse to be whore..." His voice becomes hoarse, as the pleasure began to increase, "Fuck...fuck I'll buy you a big house just so I can fuck you in it...hm...yeah you'd like that wouldn't you?" he doesn't stop his vigorous thrusts, "I’ll fuck some babies into you hm? You'd like that? I’ll give you a baby with blue eyes…something to remind you of me…" he flips you over, locking an arm around your neck.

All you could do was whine as you wait for the inevitable. Robert licks a stripe against your ear. He grunts with satisfaction, "Want you to remember this for the rest of your life....every time you think about your first time, you'll be thinking of me...." he fastens his pace. All you could do was stare back at your reflection. A tear trickles down your cheek. You couldn't help but agree. It was true, this moment would haunt you for the rest of your life.

Robert knows it. That's what gives him such an ego boost. He felt like he was on top of the fucking world. He growls in your ear, "Remember this, I.Fucking.Own.You." before unloading his spunk deep inside. He muffles a moan in the crook of your neck, bowing his head down to feel the bliss of it all. Fuck, he never came so much in his life. Was it the adrenaline or the pussy? He doesn't care. All he knows is that it's money well spent.

He slowly begins to pull out, hissing from the pleasure your pussy gave. He moans at the sight of his shaft dipped in a crimson tint, "Fuck me...if that isn't a sight for sore eyes..." he's made sure to mark his territory. He flips you over, you're too scared to even look at him.

He slides his hand from your stomach to your pelvis, "Hold on...I want to see it.." giving your lower abdomen a light push, forcing the rest of his seed out. It's mixed with a string of red. His lids are hooded, there's a twitch to his features. He grins, "Fuck...guess you weren't lying about me being your first..." he chuckles, "And here I thought you were just another lying whore..." playing with your emotions.

Robert lifts himself from the bed. He retrieves his belt on the floor, tying your wrists to the bed post. He doesn't want to risk you running away from him. Not while he still had a few hours left. He fixes himself in the mirror, coming his hair back to how it was before. Making sure that there wasn't a single strand out of place. He admires himself in the mirror. He felt like a fucking champ. Like nothing in the world could stop him, and so far there hasn't been.

Robert knew this was a good idea the moment he saw your profile online. He'd been tracking you down for quite some time, it's been a while. His obsession growing with each message sent. He had to own you. Mind, body, and soul. It was a good idea to install the hidden camera in the hotel. He could only stare at you from his office, viewing you changing into the set he'd purchased, admiring yourself in the mirror. He had to wait another agonizing hour before work was finished.

He notices the way you'd tried being presentable, all for him. How you would constantly check your phone just to see what his orders were. Submissive, compliant, needy. So fucking needy. That little pussy of yours needed his cock to break it in. He doesn't want it to end, he tosses a few bills onto the mattress, you don't even flinch. Your mind had already escaped.

Robert leans in, caging your body with his arms, "Why don't I keep you as my little plaything, hm?" he knows you've recently graduated. But what use was a degree compared to what he could give? What greater reward than being his pretty little housewife? You might as well put those looks to use. He plants a kiss against your lips, humming in satisfaction, "Need a good girl to balance me out..." he begins to rant, "And if you ever think of leaving me, I'll send a video of us fucking to your parents,"

But the thing is, you never told him who your parents were. It was then when the pieces began to fall into place. How could you be so stupid? His username was R-Morrow.

This was no other than the owner of Fischer Morrow, the man responsible for your landing parents in deep debt. Of course they trusted him, because he's your childhood friend. You lift yourself up and face him. Your voice in disbelief when you question the identity of the strange man, now with a tearful look, "R-Robbie?" you whisper. He pauses for a moment, head turning to the side as he looks your way, "Did you miss me?"

"...Why? I-I don't understand..." you began hyperventilating. This wasn't happening. Your childhood friend had taken your virginity. At one point, he was your entire world. He approaches you, no longer a lanky young boy but a man. He cups your face, pressing his forehead against yours. He sighs, "Don't you remember the promise we made? To find each other?" his eyes bore into yours, "I could only dream of it, but now?" he wraps his arms around you, holding you close to him, "Now you're finally mine..."

[yelenasdiary]

omg open requests??? this is like super specific BUT maybe gambling addict neighbor fem!reader x rich (maybe like mafia leader or powerful lawyer or just like shield agent lol) natasha. reader is natasha’s neighbor and one night she’s super beat up in the apartment hallway or smth cuz she’s super in debt from illegal gambling and couldn’t pay back. natasha is super protective of reader (maybe r has a small kid or smth), sees this and lets her inside, patching her up, and pays her debt to free her. or beats up those who hurt her neighbor. or both. platonic or not! up to u ! sorry this is so long but feel free to do what u want w the concept! thx ! glad to see requests open again!

Bailed Out

Pairing: Lawyer! Natasha Romanoff x Fem! Reader (Platonic)

Summary: Your neighbour helps you after a little ‘misunderstanding’ 

Angst 

Warnings: Gambling Addiction, Illegal Gambling, Mentions of Physically Assault, Blood and Bruises | 1.7K

AC: Thank you for sending this! Sorry it took so long; I hope you enjoy it! x

Natasha sighed in relief when she finally got to her apartment complex, just knowing she was only a few feet away from being able to kick off her heels and throw her brief case to the side and enjoy what was left of her night. She carried herself up the first three flights of stairs before she heard the soft sobs of a woman crying in the hall. She turned the corner and dropped her brief case instantly when her eyes landed on you, on the floor in tears. 

“Y/n! What happened?” She rushed to your side. You flinched at first, scared she was going to give you another beating not noticing who she was at first. “It’s okay, I’m not going to hurt you” Natasha added, gently lifting your chin up. She saw your busted lip and the small river of blood that came from it. “Who did this?” She asked sternly. 

“It’s nothing, I’m f-fine” you sobbed, avoiding eye contact with your neighbor. 

“This isn’t nothing, where’s your sister?” Natasha questioned in a panic. 

“She’s inside, please I don’t want to worry her. I’ll be fine” you replied, wiping the tears from your cheeks. “Come inside and we’ll get some ice on that lip” Nat suggested before helping you up onto your feet. She picked up her brief case and searched her coat pocket for her keys before unlocking the door to her apartment. You followed behind her into her kitchen where she handed you a bag of frozen peas.

You took a seat at the island in the middle of her kitchen, bringing the bag of peas to your busted lip while Natasha got you a glass of water. “I promise you; this is nothing. Just a little misunderstanding” you said, breaking the silence. The lawyer cocked a brow, “you know that my job is to prove somebody is lying, right?” She said, “so you can sit there as long as you want and tell yourself this is nothing, but I don’t believe you” she added. You looked up at her and sighed, “I just owe some people money” you admitted. 

“For what?” Natasha asked, keeping eye contact. 

You hesitantly shook your head, “it doesn’t matter, this is my problem. I’m sorry you saw the end of it” 

“Somebody just beat you up in the hallway outside your apartment over some money. If it’s something illegal, I don’t care. I’m not going to turn you in, I just want to help. How much danger are you in?” The red head said sternly. You took a few moments of silence before finally confiding in her. You lowered the bag of peas and took a sip of water to help swallow the lump in your throat before you looked at Natasha once more. 

“I owe $20,000 in bets” you admitted. Natasha nodded at your words, “I just wanted to help Casey get into a good college, I swear. But I won a few times and put most the winnings away, but I guess” you paused, feeling ashamed of yourself for not only having to admit to your neighbor but also yourself that you have a problem. “I guess I got lost in thrill of winning and now I know some really bad people a lot of money, money I don’t have, and I have no idea how to get” you added. 

“Why didn’t you come to me? I would’ve helped” Natasha replied. 

“Because it’s my responsibly to look after myself and Casey, it’s just us and I didn’t want her to stress about not being able to get into the college she wishes” you explained, placing the bag of peas back onto your bruised bottom lip. You felt defeated, the feeling of being weak soon washed over you as your eyes dropped to the glass of water in front of you. “What’s the deadline?” Natasha asked. 

“Tomorrow night at 6pm” you replied in an almost mumble. 

Natasha gently lifted your chin once more to look at her, all you could see in her eyes was disappointment which only made you feel worse than you already did. “I’m going to pay it off, okay?” She says. 

“N-Nat, no. I can’t ask you to do that” 

“You’re not asking. I’m telling you; I’m going to pay it. You won’t be paying me back in money, you can make it up to me by promising me that you’ll go to GA meetings, okay? We’ll find you a group close to home and I’ll take you so that Casey doesn’t suspect a thing” Natasha replies sternly so you can’t argue with her about it. 

“Why would you help me?” You asked. 

“Because I care about you and Casey. You’re a smart woman, we all make mistakes, but I know this isn’t what you want. You don’t want to live in fear over money, trust me, I’ve seen enough cases come and go with the cause being over money. Besides, if you want to put some money away for college tuition, I have a few filing jobs I’d be happy to pay you to do if you’re looking for that extra cash” Natasha offers.

“Are you sure? I mean, I’m sure I can find a way to pay them back. This is my mistake” 

“Will you stop for a moment? If I were you, would you do the same for me?” Nat asked. You nodded instantly, “right, so case closed” she added with a soft smile. You gave her a smile in return only to re-open the cut on your lip. 

“Take the peas with you, I’ll come home early tomorrow with the money, and you can come with me to drop it off, okay?” 

You nodded at the lawyer’s words before sliding off the stool at the island of her kitchen, “thank you Nat, I really mean it” you said before she showed you out. 

----

The next afternoon, you found yourself sitting in the passenger seat of Natasha’s car while you watched her take the bag of money to the tall man standing in an alley way. Your right knee bounced in fear while you kept your eyes on the entire interaction that was before you. 

“Where’s Y/n” the man asked when Natasha dropped the bag at his feet. 

“You don’t need to worry about that” she replied as the crook picked up the bag, unzipping the front pocket to check the money inside, “there’s $30,000 in there. $20,000 to cover her debt and the, let’s say tip, is so you guy never both her again. I’m not joking before you laugh, if I ever find out that you or your boss or anybody else in your little illegal gambling games comes near Y/n or even lays another hand on her, I promise to shut down your little business here and you along with your friends will be locked away for a very, very long time” she threatened. 

“Hey, I don’t give a shit, I’m just the guy who picks up the debts but uhm, I’ll pass your message on” he replies with a chuckle.

“That’s not good enough” Natasha spat, “I need your boss’s word that Y/n is free” she added, keeping stern eye contact with him in the dim light from the streetlight. The taller man rolled his eyes as he pulled out his mobile phone from his back pocket. Natasha waited patiently for the silence to be broken. 

“Yeah boss, I got the money, but some woman wants to talk to you” he said, talking into the phone. His words caused Natasha to raise her brows, some woman? She thought to herself. “I don’t know who she is, she knows Y/n, said she needed your word that we won’t rough her up anymore” he added, making Natasha to roll her eyes. “Give me the phone” she reached out. 

The debt collector handed Nat his phone, “Who am I speaking too?” The voice came through the phone. 

“Nobody you need to worry about unless you bother Y/n again. I’ve given your lost dog $30,000 in a bag, 20 to cover the debt and 10 in hopes that you and your business will never bother Y/n again” 

The man on the other line chuckled, “I can’t control what the beggar does with her life, if she comes to me and loses again, that’s on her” he replied. 

“Do I have your word?” Natasha repeated sternly.

“Yeah, whatever. Better be $30,000 in that bag exactly” he said before hanging up. Natasha tossed the mobile back to the man standing in front of her, “run along now” she cocked a brow at him, not wanting to leave until he couldn’t be seen. 

----

You gave your new co-worker a soft smile as you made your way to Natasha’s office to find her lost in the email she was reading. Knocking softly on her door, she looked up at you and gave you a lit nod to enter. 

“I won’t be long, I just need to send off this last email” she said, her eyes quickly returning to the screen of her computer. 

“Take your time” you replied, taking a seat across from her desk. It had been three months since your neighbor basically bailed you out of a lifetime of endless debt and since that night, you’ve kept your promise to her. You attended a gamblers anonymous group once a week which Natasha took you too and waited for you afterwards and you took her up on her offer of the filing job. It wasn’t a full-time position, two days a week in an office of your own, scanning and filing documents both physically and digitally. 

The money you made from the second job was put into a savings account for your sister’s college tuition. She had a couple of years before that time would come, giving you plenty of time to save up as much money you could to help her out. 

“Alright, let’s get out of here” Natasha smiled, logging off her computer, “I don’t want to see the inside of this office until Monday” she added causing you both to chuckle.

“I was thinking, after my meeting tonight if we could go to dinner? My treat, I really would like to thank you for everything you’ve done for me” you said as Nat gathered her things, “Casey will meet us after, I told her we were working late tonight” you added. 

“Sounds good to me but dessert is on me” Nat smiled. You playfully rolled your eyes at her comment, “I won’t win this one, will I?” You asked. Natasha shook her head, “nobody can argue a good peanut butter sandwich” she chuckled.

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[boneblushed]

Glitch

synopsis Rafe has a bad fall on the ski slopes. A temporary amnesiac, he falls in love with you all over again.

a/n oh Euro Trip Rafe I have missed you so bad 🥹

The velcro of your left glove snags, the worn edge catching on the handle of your ski pole. You sigh. The gauntlet cuff on the right side isn’t looking much better, all scruffy and threadbare so the underlying skin’s exposed.

“Hold on,” you call out, skidding to a reluctant stop.

It’s high time you replaced them with a newer pair, especially considering you’ve been using the same gear your parents bought you post middle-school growth spurt. But you don’t come to Aspen nearly enough to justify doing so at the moment; not that money’s a particular issue, it’s more so the inconvenience an unnecessary shopping trip will bring you.

“Dude. Again?”

You abandon the broken strap to send Topper a helpless frown. He’s a little way ahead, partially obscured by the crowd, but the exasperation on his face is made evident by his tone.

He draws nearer and glances down at the shaggy velcro, shaking his head disapprovingly. “We’ve gotta buy you a new pair.”

Above him, the sky is a gauzy blue, juxtaposing the sugary white hue of fresh snow.

“Not worth it Top,” you argue. The strap hitches again, an objection. “They’ll barely get used.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he answers, turning again. “Come on. I’m going to buy you a new pair.”

He’ll buy you a new one, your heart sings. And then it stops. You know better than to read into this gesture — he isn’t being chivalrous on purpose; when is he ever? This is the fourth time you’ve had to stop to untangle or readjust, and you’re pretty sure he’s just getting sick of you holding him up. Logic prevails, but your traitorous cheeks warm anyway, demure about the offer.

“It’s fine,” you insist. The velcro barely sticks when you refasten it. Fine enough. “Let’s keep going.”

You continue to push through the horde ahead of you, making your slow way toward the chairlifts. As you near, the ant-like skiers and snowboarders on the mountain become clearer, and you pull down your goggles, blinded by the sun’s glare.

That’s when the accident happens.

All of a sudden, but crashing in dusky orange slow-motion. Some guy hits a rocky bit of the slopes, losing control of his snowboard and nosediving into the snow. It’s a gnarly looking collision, made worse by his concerning lack of helmet, and you share a worried look with Topper before making your way toward him.

“Dude, fucking move—hey, sorry, best friend coming through—”

You startle, halting abruptly. You’d recognise that voice anywhere.

“—sorry, ‘scuse me gorgeous, I’m just gonna squeeze past you real quick—”

“Noah!”

In the split second that follows, you endure several emotions at once. The first: concern heightened ten-fold. Because if Noah’s referring to himself as the best friend, the some guy in question is actually Rafe Cameron.

The same Rafe Cameron that you love to hate, almost as much as your poor heart avows it.

The second: a concerning ache. Right at the centre of your chest, within your ribcage, as if the tired ligaments that hold it together are as weak as your velcro straps. The feeling swells, and you feel your heart squeeze through the cracks.

And then there’s apprehension, some excitement, a sudden bashfulness that makes your cheeks burn.

All round pathetic. You force a smile that’s more a grimace, hoping that Noah doesn’t notice your disquiet.

He pauses en-route, a surprised expression on his face. “Y/N!” He exclaims, breathless. The surprise melts into a mixture of delight and amusement. “Tell me you witnessed him bailing just then.”

You sigh. “Unfortunately.”

“Good,” he replies soberly, linking his arms in yours and tugging you forward. Your ski poles cross in protest, your centre of balance askew. “You’re coming with me.”

“What?” You ask, evidently bewildered. “Noah…”

You twist around and find Topper in the crowd, who shrugs, equally perplexed. Help me, you mouth, though you’re moving ahead too fast for the poor boy to discern it.

“…uh,” you try again, turning back to the face him, “I don’t know if this is —”

“Y/N,” he interrupts matter-of-factly, zig-zagging through the crowd with ease. “If there’s one person that can talk some sense into him, it’s you. I mean, shit, did you see how fast he was going? He’s going to board himself into a fucking coma if he keeps doing stupid shit like that.”

This brings a pause. It’s sort of endearing, really, how fiercely he cares about Rafe.

Your gaze softens a smidge. “You’re a good friend, Noah,” you say. “He’s pretty lucky to have you.”

“Us,” Noah corrects.

Your pulse jolts. “He doesn’t have me,” you reply, frowning a little.

“Everyone else may believe that Y/N, but I don’t.”

And again, a terrifying emotion bounding forth in your chest. “I —”

You’re saved the trouble of sputtering through an excuse by Rafe’s languid groan, a thready-sounding, “Shit.”

The crowd parts at Noah’s command, and the pair of you squeeze through, now face to face with Rafe.

He’s splayed out on the snow with his limbs in disarray, only one of his boots still strapped onto his board. His cheeks are a chilly rouge, dirty-blonde hair sticking out at odd angles. You resist the sudden urge to reach forward and comb your fingers through it.

“Idiot,” Noah mutters, crouching down beside him. “Absolute fucking idiot.”

He unfastens the aforementioned boot and tosses his board to the side, the nose-end looking notably abraded.

“Huh?” Rafe mumbles, a little dazed. He gropes at his purple-hued goggles blindly, pulling them off to squint up at Noah. It takes a worrying number of seconds for recognition to dawn on his features, and when it does, finally, Noah turns around and beckons you forward.

You hesitate, your gaze flitting down to Rafe’s face. “Someone should call Ward.”

“No!” Rafe yells suddenly, attempting to push himself up before collapsing backward languidly. He clutches his left side and groans, his eyebrows pinching in pain.

His discomfort makes you wince. You spring into action without meaning to, that concerning ache in your chest pulling you forth until you’re crouching down beside him like Noah.

“No Ward,” you murmur, placing your hand on his shoulder. “Noted.”

Up close, you can see a cut on his bottom lip, the rough stubble on his jaw all dewy from the melted snow. Your brow furrows. As he tears his gaze away from Noah to face you instead, you brush back his dirty-blonde fringe, searching for any more injuries. He has a graze on his upper forehead and you thumb over it gently, the furrow in your brow deepening with concern.

You glance up at Noah and nod. “Absolute fucking idiot.”

Rafe tries to do the same, but a sharp ache sears through his head when he attempts to turn it again.

“Stop moving it,” you instruct sternly, exerting more pressure on his forehead to hold it in place. “Noah isn’t going anywhere.”

“Have to,” he groans, his voice all gravelly and rough, “make sure he’s still here.”

He’s almost certain that Noah won’t be, that he’ll turn to him and find that the two of you are the only people sitting on the slopes. He imagines it like that scene at the end of Deathly Hallows, everything in blinding white and playing inside of his head.

You know, because he’s almost definitely dreaming if you’re crouching down beside him right now. With a soft hand on his shoulder, another pressed over his forehead. Two points of contact, he marvels, dazed. He squints up at you again, his reverent gaze falling over you in paces, and it feels as though a fog is descending on his surroundings. Everything blurs. He blinks abruptly.

“Dude,” Noah chastises, leaning over Rafe’s torso so that he’s within his line of sight, “where the fuck would I go?”

Rafe’s eyes widen, and he looks between you and Noah, evidently bewildered. “Bro,” he groans after a pause, his head falling back defeatedly. “I’m fucked.”

Your heart lurches worriedly, and you frown, looking over his figure for more injuries. “R’you in any pain?”

“Not physical,” he mumbles, lifting his head tentatively to squint at you. He drops it again and groans, overwhelmed by your closeness. “You’re really fucking beautiful, by the way. It’s messing with my head.”

You roll your eyes, feeling a tell-tale warm creeping up your neck. “Alright, you guys can go,” you say, turning to address the crowd. “He’s totally fine.”

Noah grins down at him, looking equally parts proud and exasperated. “There he is.”

Rafe isn’t sure what that means. All he knows is that he doesn’t feel fine, his head’s all jumbled and there’s a dreadful ache in every one of his limbs. The sound of blood pounding through his ears is unrelenting, and the chill in the air is downright abrasive. Not to mention, there’s this angel reincarnate that’s leaning over him at present, a concerned expression on her face that’s somehow making her look prettier.

Two points of contact, Rafe thinks again, agonised. Your softened features come to him in slow motion, the light reflected in your wide eyes, the shine of gloss on your frowning lips. You look extremely familiar, but he’s having difficulty recalling your name. There’s this overwhelming pull in chest that tells him you’re a big deal to him—his girlfriend, he hopes, aghast and probably deluded. That’s the concussion talking.

Besides, he isn’t even entirely sure that you’re actually real, all things considered.

“We should probably get him checked out, huh?” You ask Noah.

Noah knits his brow thoughtfully, peering down at Rafe. “You good, Cameron?”

“I feel fucking hungover,” Rafe mutters, pushing himself into a sitting position. Your hand falters as he hangs his head forward, and he reaches up, pressing it back into his skin. The rough pressure makes your breath hitch, less languid and more sure than he’s been since he bailed.

“You’re concussed,” you correct meekly, frowning down at him.

Rafe tries to shake his head, wincing as another bolt of pain shoots through it in dissent. “No,” he says, quick to fix his features. He grins dazedly. “I’m Rafe Cameron. And you’re… well, I hope you’re my girlfriend or something, because otherwise this heart attack in my chest’d be pretty concerning.”

You breathe out a scoff, mildly exasperated. A little relieved. If he’s well enough to remember to be an incessant flirt, he’s well enough for the concussion to not have caused any permanent damage.

“Alright, nevermind, no medical attention necessary,” you mutter, sending him a glare. It’s hard to hide the fact that your palms are clammy when you pull them away.

Noah loops his bicep under Rafe’s and pulls him to his feet, steadying him in place. The throbbing in his forehead intensifies, and he groans, staggering forward and doubling over.

“I don’t know, Y/N,” Noah replies then, frowning. “Maybe I’ll give my mom a call, just to be safe.”

“Your mom?”

“Dr White,” Rafe supplies, forcing himself to straighten. He tries to control his breathing, ignore the way his surroundings seem to be spinning.

Everything except you. His focus acquiesces. He must look pale or something because your gaze is apprehensive, this pretty furrow in your brow that he wants to smooth his thumb over. God, he must look pathetic right now, weak and mildly concussed, the aforementioned bail notwithstanding.

So he lies, adding, “Don’t worry about it White, I’m good,” mostly for your benefit—so you don’t think he’s some fucking chump who can’t handle a bit of a tumble.

He wants to impress you, bad. He plasters on another grin, going for roguish and landing on dense. “Would be better if you let me take you out later.”

“No way you’re asking me out right now,” you reproach, sending him a glare. “You almost just died five minutes ago, and that’s the first thing on your priority list?”

“You are, yeah,” he agrees, still grinning. He tries to walk toward you, staggering a little. “Seriously though, this has gotta be fate — bailing real fucking hard and finding a beautiful stranger along the way.”

You blink. “Beautiful stranger?”

“Heavy on the beautiful,” Rafe agrees, lumbering forward clumsily.

“Stranger?” You repeat, and then you falter, glancing down at his feet. “Rafael —”

He loses balance far too quickly for you to intervene, and he falls against you heavily, causing you to topple into the snow. Biting cold on your back, delightful warmth on your chest. His instincts must be somewhat intact, because he manages to hold his weight up despite being right on top of you.

Like, right on top of you. A terrifying emotion sears through your chest. The smatter of freckles on his nose are almost faded, his cheeks a brilliant rouge, snow-burned lips parted slightly. His overgrown locks brush against your forehead, just.

“Sorry,” he breathes out, and then he pauses, his gaze flitting to your lips. In the beat that passes, he agonises over the soft planes of your face, how pretty your eyes are up close. His heart’s just about pounding through his skin. How kissable your lips look, your cheeks, your neck, how right your figure feels pressed into his. His palms feel clammy; that hasn’t happened in a long while. He thinks, oh shit. And then, I’m absolutely fucking fucked.

You swallow, watching his pupils dilate. “Cameron. I need you to focus for a second.”

“Listen,” he murmurs, ignoring you, “D’you believe in love at first sight?”

“Rafael —”

“Because I know we’ve only just met,” he continues, drawing closer still, his heady gaze deepening, “and that — shit, I don’t even know your name, but I’m pretty sure that if I don’t kiss you right now I’m going to go fucking insane. That’s crazy, huh? I think you make me crazy. Have I mentioned that you’re really fucking beautiful yet? It’s messing with my head. Wait — I think I might’ve said that already —”

“Rafe Cameron,” you interrupt again, your eyes widening slightly. “If this is some stupid prank —”

“Prank?” He echoes, frowning slightly. He leans forward a little, brushing his nose against yours. Your pulse jolts. “You’re a prank.” He groans then, dropping his head to your shoulder. Your closeness may quell the pounding a smidge, but not completely. “You’re not real are you? I’m dreaming all of this?”

Your lock eyes with Noah over his head, sending him a worried look.

“Rafael,” you try again, pushing him off you and sitting up carefully. “This isn’t funny. I’m so beyond serious.”

Rafe, still splayed out on the snow, angles toward you with a furrow in his brow. “I’m confused.”

“Noah,” you say then, your voice louder, a little panicked. “I think you will need to call your mom after all.”

Noah frowns, crouching down beside the pair of you. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong,” Rafe answers, groaning in pain as he sits up. “Is that I’ve made a fool out of myself in front of this gorgeous stranger.”

“Ask her,” you continue, your heart feeling a little odd, “how long post-concussion memory loss takes to wear off.”

Noah eyes widen, searching Rafe’s face for any signs of mirth. “No way,” he says. “He’s gotta be fucking with us.”

“There’s an us?” Rafe echoes, raising his eyebrows at Noah. “Dude. Did you know your girlfriend’s a fucking smokeshow?”

“If this is some new pick up line you’re trying,” he replies, eyeing him warily. “It sucks ass Cameron.”

“Oooh, territorial,” Rafe answers, grinning dopily. He props himself up further, leaning closer to you and lowering his voice to a stage whisper. “You’re totally out of his league, by the way. Pretty sure you’re like, out of the Earth’s league.” He frowns. “That doesn’t make sense,” then groans, “fuck. Having a concussion is like drinking on an empty stomach.”

The pillow of his bicep presses into yours, full well engulfing it. You turn to face him, chewing on your bottom lip worriedly. If this was his idea of a prank, you want to believe that he wouldn’t let it go on this long. Especially not when you and Noah look so concerned, the latter retrieving his phone to give his mother a call.

“Hey mom,” he says, sandwiching his phone between his shoulder and ear and getting to his feet. You do so too. Rafe staggers to a standing position far more clumsily. “Yeah — no — the snow’s been sick, but I’m calling because something’s happened with Rafe. No, no, nothing too serious, he’s just a little concussed and may have some temporary amnesia. I was wondering if…”

“Maybe we can go on a double date,” Rafe tries again, grinning hopefully. There’s a bit of snow that’s melted on your bottom lip from the fall, and he aches to thumb over it, tuck his fingers under your jaw. “You, Noah, me.”

“No, no, he remembers me,” Noah continues, sending you a significant look. “But he doesn’t remember — yeah, it’s pretty selective — uh, maybe a few meters? Uh… no, what the hell’s a trigger? I’ll…”

“What d’you reckon?” Rafe prompts.

Noah turns away and you move your gaze to Rafe, half amused, half exasperated. “You, me, and Noah? Who’re you going to bring?”

“You,” he replies, like it’s obvious.

“And Noah?”

“Me.”

You breathe out an exasperated laugh, shaking your head. Rafe thinks it’s the prettiest sound he’s ever heard. His already muddled brain short-circuits for the billionth time.

“…half an hour?” You hear Noah affirm, the frown on his features audible. “Yeah — no — it’s been just over that — a trigger like what, though? What d’you mean you don’t know him as well as I do, he’s been coming to our house since he was like six years old…”

You don’t realise your brow’s furrowing until your feel Rafe’s rough thumb brush over it. You startle, feeling your skin warm as you look up at him.

“I’m lucky,” he murmurs, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat.

You swallow. “Why?”

“You’re worried about me.” His hand drops to your jaw, thumb swiping over your cheek. You swallow instinctively. “And you’re way too beautiful to be worrying about someone like me.”

“You’ve lost your memory,” you answer weakly. “Anyone’d be worried.”

“I find that hard to believe.” He draws closer.

“Which part, exactly?”

“That people would worry,” he answers quietly, his voice gruff. Closer still. “That I’d forget about someone like you so easy.”

“But you have,” you prompt.

“Then remind me, sweetheart.”

“Not your sweetheart, Rafael,” you murmur, trying for a frown.

“Not my — wait.”

The thumb that’s swiping over your cheek freezes suddenly. “Wait,” he repeats, blinking several times. He scrunches his eyes shut, retrieving his hand to clutch it against his forehead. “Wait — fuck.”

You lean forward instinctively, tugging his arm away to look over his features, his concerning graze. “What? What’s wrong?”

“I knew…” he answers, shaking his head and groaning, “…but…shit, it’s so fucking obvious now —”

You furrow your brow in confusion, locking eyes with an equally bewildered Noah.

He holds his phone away from his ear, walking over and surveying Rafe’s features. “You good, brother?”

“Fine, shit,” Rafe curses again, scrubbing his hand over his face before meeting your gaze, chagrined. He grins hopefully. “That might’ve been quicker with true love’s kiss, though.”

You aren’t about to believe that he’s back without concrete evidence. “And my name is…?”

“Mrs Cameron,” he replies seriously.

You let out a scoff, more relief than indignation, catching the twinkle of mirth in his eyes. “Don’t ever do that again, you hear me?”

“Maybe,” he answers, raising his eyebrows, “if you let me take you out I’ll be too busy to bail.”

You roll your eyes. “Nice try.”

“But I’m maimed, sweetheart,” he adds, brushing back his dirty-blonde locks to show off the forehead graze. He pouts for good measure. “C’mon. Not even a pity date?”

You shake your head exasperatedly, catching Noah’s eye over his shoulder. “You’ll take it from here?”

“What? You aren’t gonna hang out with us?” Noah asks, pressing the phone against his chest. “I thought you were my girlfriend, Y/N.”

“Off limits, bro,” Rafe says matter-of-factly.

You’re about to protest when he draws closer and ducks his head, his warm breath on your earlobe cutting you off. “I won’t ever do that again,” he murmurs, the smile on his face audible, “I promise.”

“Good,” you answer, frowning sternly.

“Oh, and Y/N?”

You turn toward him, startling at his closeness. “Hm?”

He grins wider, brushing his nose against your fleetingly. “Missed remembering you bad, dream girl.”

[fanfictionalraven]

Sleep Without You

Title: Sleep Without You

Song Inspiration: Sleep Without You by Brett Young

Characters: Reader, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Eileen, Mary, Jody, Donna, Charlie

Word Count: 2,082

Warnings: Reader gets drunk, fluff

Author’s Note: This story is not canon compliant because I prefer my characters alive and happy.

“Do not make us come in there and take her, Dean,” Jody says through your bedroom door. You throw your head back and laugh from where you’re standing over the bathroom sink. Dean rolls his eyes from where he’d been watching you get ready. He walks over to the door and pulls it open with a dramatic huff.

“I’m not holding her hostage,” he tells the small group of women he finds waiting. Jody looks past him and you stick your head out of the bathroom.

“I’m almost ready. Sorry,” you apologize. Donna looks between the two of you suspiciously.

“There was definitely some hanky-panky going on here,” she says. Dean rolls his eyes again and walks back over to the bed, taking a seat on the edge. You laugh but blush despite yourself. She wasn’t wrong. The second Dean had seen you in the little red dress, he couldn’t keep his hands to himself.

“Honestly, I’ll meet you at the car in five minutes,” you tell them. Eileen laughs and nudges the two other women down the hall, sending a wink back at you before she disappears herself. You quickly slip into a strappy pair of matching red heels and can feel Dean’s eyes still on you. “Stop.”

“I’m not doing anything!!” He says, defensively.

“No, but you’re thinking about it,” you laugh. Standing to your full height, you hold your arms out and turn in a slow circle. “Alright. How do I look?”

“Too damn good,” he compliments. You smile as you step over to him, his hands coming to rest on your hips. “Don’t get to see you all dolled up like this too often. Without it being for a case at least.”

“I know. This is actually so…normal,” you say, shaking your head slightly. “A bachelorette party.”

“Can’t believe they’re actually getting married,” Dean muses.

“Little Sammy’s all grown up,” you tease, giving his shoulders a squeeze.

“Mmmm,” he hums. “Least this time he got my blessing.” You laugh and shake your head. “You should go before the search party comes back.” Leaning down, you give him a quick kiss.

“Don’t wait up,” you tell him. He laughs lightly and gives your hips a gentle squeeze.

“Don’t party too hard,” he says. You can’t help but laugh again.

“The party consists of the bride-to-be, myself, your mother, two officers of the law who might as well be your mother and your aunt, and a lesbian. I make no promises,” you say as you run a hand through his hair. He gives you a smile and shakes his head.

“Sammy and I will work on the bail money,” he jokes.

“Much appreciated,” you laugh and take a step back for him to stand. He takes your face in his hands and kisses you tenderly. The two of you stand there for a moment, enjoying each other’s presence.

“Y/N!” Mary calls your name as she comes down the hallway.

“Whoops! They sent the big guns this time,” you say, stepping away from Dean. He laughs as he follows you to the door and leans against the frame, crossing his arms.

“Be careful. Have fun,” he says as Mary takes you by the elbow. You wink back at Dean and give him a wave as you stumble along behind his mother.

***

“Don’t wait up.”

Those had been your instructions to Dean. He had tried to follow them. He knew you all would be out late so he made a valiant effort to turn in for the night around 12:30. The scent of your shampoo on the pillow next to him was too much to bear.

At 12:35, he made his way back to the library and poured himself a glass of whiskey. Sitting back in one of the chairs, he pulls his phone out and smiles at the picture of you grinning back at him.

At 12:40, Sam wanders back into the library. He pauses when he sees his older brother. Dean looks up at him and chuckles.

“Couldn’t sleep either?” He asks. Sam shakes his head as he walks over and sits across from Dean who pours a second glass. “What was it for you?” Sam swirls the glass slowly and cuts his eyes up at his brother.

“She usually plays with my hair while I go to sleep,” he admits, a bit embarrassed. Dean smiles and shakes his head, taking a drink. “You?”

“Pillow smelled too damn much like her,” he says, as though it were completely obvious. Now it’s Sam’s turn to shake his head.

“What happened to us?” He laughs. Dean shrugs, glancing back at his phone screen. “I mean…I’m getting married in a couple weeks. What?”

“Nah. I always saw that for you,” Dean says, looking at his younger brother. Sam gives him a skeptical look. Dean shrugs in response. “Hoped for it at least. You deserve it.”

“Just not with Becky?” Sam asks, trying not to smile.

“Eileen is a much better choice. Hands down,” Dean laughs. Sam laughs as well.

The two brothers sit in silence for a little while, each taking sips from their respective glasses. Sam watches his brother pour himself another glass before finally speaking again.

“You deserve it too, ya know,” Sam says simply. Dean looks at him curiously. “Your relationship with Y/N. Being happy and…and loved.”

“I haven’t done a thing to deserve Y/N loving me the way she does,” he says. Sam frowns but Dean gives him a smile. “And yet she keeps on doing it anyways.”

“I understand that,” Sam agrees, raising his glass slightly. Another silent moment passes as Sam gathers the courage to ask his next question. “Have you thought about it?”

“Thought about what?” Dean asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Marriage,” Sam says, making some elaborate, grand gesture with his hands. Dean laughs at Sam’s awkwardness and looks into his glass again.

“I was about ready to ask Mom for her ring but, ugh…someone beat me to it,” he says, smiling at Sam now. Sam’s eyes widen quickly.

“Oh!! Dean, I’m sorry,” he rattles off quickly. Dean laughs and holds a hand up.

“It’s fine. You got to it first, fair and square,” he says, standing and walking across the library. He stops at a lockbox sitting on one of the shelves and quickly puts in a combination. Sam watches his brother, curiously, as Dean removes something from the box. “Had to hustle a hell of a lot of pool but…” He walks back to his seat and holds up a simple but beautiful diamond ring. Sam stares it for a moment before looking at his brother, wide eyed.

“How long have you had that?” He asks. Dean shrugs, examining the ring between his fingers.

“Bought it about two weeks after you asked Eileen,” Dean recounts. “I’d been thinking about it for a while. Almost asked Mom, like I said. I just wasn’t sure if Y/N would go for it. What we have now is one thing. Marriage is whole other one. Then when you asked Eileen…I could see it in her eyes.”

“That was months ago. Why haven’t you asked her yet?” Sam questions.

“Didn’t wanna feel like I was just copying you or trying to steal anyone’s thunder,” Dean explains, going back to the box. “I’ll give it a little time. Let you and Eileen have your moment. Then I’ll ask.”

“Neither of us would care. We’d be thrilled for you both,” Sam tells him. Dean smiles and shrugs, putting the ring away again. He closes the box and relocks it.

“I’ve waited this long. A few more weeks won’t hurt,” Dean says. Sam smiles a little and nods as Dean comes back to his seat. Dean stretches and looks at his phone again. “Now, the real question…is when are you two gonna make me an uncle?” Sam sputters on his drink, quickly setting the glass down. Dean roars with laughter as the door to the war room opens up.

“Cause the players gonna play, play, play, play, play…and the haters gonna hate, hate, hate, hate, hate…but I’m just gonna shake, shake, shake, shake, shake…shake it off, shake it off…” You, Eileen, and Charlie all come in singing together, arms around each other. You all three stumble through a few very uncoordinated hip shimmies.

“Dear God. They are wasted,” Dean laughs. Mary runs around in front of your small choir and heads you off at the stairs.

“A little help?” She calls down to her sons. The two brothers get up quickly and make their way up the stairs. Sam wraps an arm around Eileen’s waist and starts to help her down the stairs as she giggles. Mary assists Charlie who grips the handrail as the room starts to spin on her. You cross your arms as Dean comes over to you.

“I told you not to wait up,” you scold him. He laughs and shakes his head, hands coming to rest on your hips.

“I tried, promise. Turns out I just can’t sleep without my girl,” he says, pulling you closer quickly. You let out a squeal as you stumble and fall into him. Before you have a second to process what’s happening, Dean scoops you up into his arms and starts to carry you down the stairs.

“I could have walked,” you mumble, wrapping your arms around his neck. He rolls his eyes at your protest.

“You wouldn’t have made it two steps,” he teases. “I’ll put you down if you want.”

“No!!” You exclaim, tightening your arms slightly. He laughs and nods.

“That’s what I thought.”

“These three,” Mary says, pointing between all three of you. “Are not allowed to go out drinking again.”

“Herding cats?” Sam asks. Mary scoffs a laugh.

“Cats would have been easier,” she says. Dean looks down at you and smirks.

“Did you not behave for Mom?” He asks. Your shoulders bob up and down as you smile at him coyly.

“Why? You gonna punish me?” You ask with a wink.

“Oh my God,” Mary mutters, quickly leading a still dizzy Charlie towards the hall. Dean laughs wildly as he goes to follow.

“You’re gonna be so hungover tomorrow,” he says. He glances back at Sam and finds Eileen gently running her fingers through his hair. “Sleep tight, little brother.” Sam looks up at him and smiles.

“You too.”

Dean carries you down to your bedroom and tosses you on to the bed, eliciting another squeal from you. You kick off your heels as he goes through the dresser, finding one of his old t-shirts you’d claimed ages ago. He helps you change out of your dress and into the shirt with ease. You fall back onto the bed with a huff and close your eyes.

“Hold on,” Dean says, going into the bathroom. He comes back out a second later with a makeup wipe and sits next to you on the bed. You giggle as he gently and carefully wipes your makeup away. “What’s so funny?”

“Big, bad, monster-killing, Dean Winchester is taking my makeup off for me,” you tease. He rolls his eyes.

“You’d be pissed in the morning if you woke up with all this still on,” he says. He takes extra care around your eyes before finally finishing. “There.” He tosses the wipe into a nearby trash can.

Dean lays down on the bed next to you and you immediately roll over to face him, moving into his side. He lays an arm across your waist, pulling you even closer. Kissing your hair, he breathes in your scent and sighs. You giggle again.

“What now?” He asks.

“You love me,” you say. Dean laughs softly and nods, pushing your hair from your face.

“Yea, I do,” he agrees. You break into a wide grin as you close your eyes. “In fact, I’m gonna marry you, Y/N.” You giggle again and nod.

“I get to be the bachelorette next time,” you say. He laughs again and kisses your forehead.

“Mom’s gonna be thrilled.”

The next morning, Dean has aspirin and water ready by the bed for you when you wake up. You remember nothing from the majority of the night before, especially anything from when you all returned to the bunker. But when you catch the bouquet at Sam and Eileen’s wedding and see the look on Dean’s face, a fragment of a conversation comes back to you.

I’m gonna marry you, Y/N.

***

Forever Tags: @roseblue373

Jensen Tags: @call-me-mrs-winchester