#so this is me taking a push from that tune xoxo!! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

multimilfs · 20 days ago

Text

Agnes O'Connor x Fem!Reader: Beginning & End

Summary: Taking a late drive to get your mind off a few things, you get more than you bargained for from a not-so-routine traffic stop.

AO3

A/N: Wasn't sure how to tag this since Agnes is technically an Agatha... variant? persona? Also I didn't tag the Agatha taglist since this isn't technically Agatha? tricky tricky... This is basically just pure smut with a sprinkle of plot.. enjoy xoxo (also let me know if you want more of Agnes?)

Words: 6.2k

Included: Established relationship, Jealousy, Smut; choking, spitting, bdsm, possession, semi-public sex, car sex, fingering, cunnilingus, daddy kink, roleplaying, power dynamics, dom/sub, teasing, begging

Tag List: @escapetodreamworld @ghostsunderstoodmysoul @multifandomfix

You sigh as you lean into the leather seat. The music is loud enough to hurt, but you don’t turn the volume down, glad of the noise even if you don’t feel like singing along. Trees fly by outside the window as you drive.

A sign passes in a flash but you catch the number; 45. Your speedometer reads 55.

Making sure you’re alone on the road, you push it to 57 just for kicks. Even as the dark scenes on either side pass in a blur, the road ahead is clear. The moon hangs low and bright above, reflecting off the filled-in parts of the pavement.

The song changes and you sigh again upon hearing the familiar tune. It only reminds you of your wife; who should be home and in bed with you, but ended up on night-shift instead after hassling a suspect a bit too hard, canceling your planned evening.

Which leads you to driving the backroads between Westview and Eastview, hoping the journey will tire you out enough that you can sleep. Instead it lands you in the position of blowing past a hidden cop.

Just your luck.

You groan as you turn the music down and pull off the road into a flat area of grass. With the lights, you can’t tell if it's a Westview or Eastview officer at first. You have pretty good chances of getting off with a warning if it's one of Agnes’ coworkers.

But it’s not one of the regular officers. It’s the Chief’s car. You hit your head against the steering wheel. He’s been riding Agnes’ ass for months and will likely give you a hefty ticket just to spite her.

While you’re hitting your head against the wheel, there’s a knock on your window. You roll it down without looking, “Look, Chief, I know the deal. You can just write me a ticket and I’ll pay it tomorrow.”

“Oh, will you now?”

You pause.

Looking up in disbelief, “Agnes?”

“That’s Detective O’Connor to you.” Her face doesn’t change from the stern facade, “You were driving pretty recklessly back there. Have you been drinking tonight, ma’am?”

Subtly as you can manage, you check your side mirror to see if anyone else sits in the police cruiser. It wouldn’t be unlike the Chief to put Agnes through some insane test. No shadows lurk in the other car.

You drag your eyes back to Agnes. She’s waiting, still just as stoic, but you see the mischief in her eyes. Well, if she wants to play, why not up the stakes?

Tilting your head and smiling, “Of course not, detective. I’ve been a good girl.”

A split-second pause tells you she wasn’t expecting that. She licks her lips before the act slips back into place. She scoffs.

“That’s what they all say. Wait here.” Her hand pats the open window before she’s heading back toward the cruiser.

You watch her walk away in the side mirror with a grin. Her confident gait stirs something in you, always has.

For a split second you consider throwing the car in drive and peeling out of here. You’re curious to see what Agnes would do. You hope she’d chase you all the way home; that way when you get there you could finally have a taste of what tonight was meant to be.

You want Agnes painfully. Between work deadlines on your end and long hours on hers, you’ve been too tired to do more than cuddle, or some heavy kissing on a better day. You miss the connection that comes from baring yourselves to one another. And the orgasms, too, of course.

Agnes is back at your window, breathalyzer in hand. You make a split second decision.

“Please, detective, I can’t afford another ticket, and my wife will be so mad.” You plead, using that innocent, wide-eyed expression you know turns her on, “Is there anything I can do to… pay it off, per se?”

To her credit, she doesn’t crack this time, “Are you soliciting an officer of the law, ma’am?”

“No, of course not! Unless that’s what you want.”

“Step out of the car.”

The commanding note in her voice goes straight between your thighs. You open the door and step out, watching her brows raise at only the long nightgown you’re wearing. There’s a chill in the air that makes you shiver. Her eyes are drawn to your chest before she shakes away whatever is going through her mind.

While you’re enjoying the game, you do hope she’ll let you get back in the car soon. The cold is unmanageable without more substantial clothing.

Agnes holds up the breathalyzer, “Open your mouth.”

You do so without thinking. A blush races up your face. Agnes can’t help but smirk.

It’s not the breathalyzer that finds itself between your lips, but two fingers that settle on your tongue and press. You jolt at the pressure. Tears come to your eyes as you gag, but the weight of her fingers doesn’t ebb. You fight against your gag reflex to curl your tongue around the digits.

Closing your lips around them, you swirl your tongue like one would around a piece of candy. Even through blurred vision you can see how Agnes’ eyes darken. She leans forward, staring at your lips.

Her fingers move deeper, pressing harder, fucking your throat. You swallow around them.

You find your mouth and throat empty as Agnes pulls out. Her hand grabs your face before you can close your mouth and holds it open, fingers wet against your cheek. She grins meanly.

“Stick out your tongue.”

The second you do, Agnes spits in your mouth. You whimper. It’s humiliating and you feel yourself clench around nothing. You leave your tongue in the position she demanded, obedient as ever.

Agnes laughs, “Swallow.”

Humiliation, in combination with your startling need for her touch, forces the tears to spill over and down your cheeks. The sight of them seems to please her. She’s always loved seeing you thoroughly debased; loves knowing only she can break you down like this.

Partners in the past did try. Yet they would hesitate, hold back, believing they knew the limits of your desire instead of trusting you. A few would panic when they saw tears in your eyes and pull out of the scene completely. You often found yourself pretending; toning down your desires to ‘acceptable’ levels and leaving yourself unsatisfied to avoid that worried look in your partner’s eyes.

But you’ve never had to pretend with Agnes. From that first time, she went as far as she wanted, knowing that you were an adult capable of safe-wording if it was too much; it wasn’t. You had been dripping and needy the entire time. You had cried while she sat back and watched you polish her boots with your tongue, and had nearly come undone from the act alone. It was everything you craved—Agnes was everything you craved; trusting, dominating, cruel when it suited, and the most loving partner you’ve ever known.

You had vowed then and there that you weren’t letting her get away. And how lucky for you that she put a ring on your finger; the ring that is so much more than a symbol of love; but a brand, too, just as you desire.

“I wonder what your wife would think of you offering yourself up to me,” Agnes muses, “but you’re so eager for it, I can’t help but wonder if she’s not satisfying you properly.”

“Only you can satisfy me, detective.” You flutter your lashes.

That draws a real laugh from her. Something inside you preens. You lean forward into Agnes’ space, angling your head for a kiss, but she pulls back.

“Be that as it may, soliciting an officer is a crime, as is reckless driving.” Her hands reach for her belt, where her handcuffs rest in one of the holsters, “I’m going to have to take you in.”

Though the idea of being cuffed and fucked however she pleases excites you, you’re not entirely pleased with how your original plan was ruined. Agnes knew where the line was during interrogations and she crossed it. Knowingly. It’s safe to say you’re a little pissed she acted out.

A mean-spirited voice in your head considers pushing Agnes away entirely, leaving her wet and turned on for the rest of the night shift while you go home and find solace in your favorite toy. The rational part of you knows that no toy can replace your wife, and it’s her you want. You’re just not going to make it easy for her.

You fall to your knees before she can work the cuffs off her belt. She jolts at the unexpected change. You slam against the ground pretty hard and wince, but don’t dare stop.

Your hands find her belt buckle. Deftly, you start to undo it, “Please, I can make you feel good. I’ll do anything.”

Agnes raises her brows. She doesn’t stop you from undoing her belt or slowly lowering the zipper of her pants. There’s a tenseness in her jaw as she thinks over the request. Intent on sealing the deal, you move your hands from the front of her pants; instead leaning forward to place a kiss where they’d just been.

Looking up through your lashes, you beg, “Please.”

“Well, since you’re so eager for it.”

Ignoring the screaming in your knees, you shoot to your feet, capturing Agnes’ lips in a hard kiss. You attack with lips and teeth and tongue. At the same time, you slip your hand inside her pants and past the waistband of her panties.

She groans against your lips when your fingers play in her wetness. Your fingers ghost over her clit and you grin into the kiss. Two hands settle on your hips and shove, your back hitting the side of your car; it hurts for a moment before you’re once again lost in the feel of your wife, how she’s using her position to grind against your hand, the obscene noises leaving her throat.

Your clit throbs with every roll of her hips. It’s intoxicating that she’s just taking what she wants, using you as a toy to achieve her own pleasure. But the desire between your own legs reminds you of the end goal.

Agnes’ hips pick up speed, her usual low groans evolving into panting, high-pitched whimpers. She’s so close. You consider letting her have what she wants.

Moments before she can fall over the edge you pull your hand from her pants. Hands settling on her chest, you shove her back. She jolts and stumbles. Her fucked-out expression from seconds earlier shifts to confusion, then anger.

“What the fuck?” Agnes snarls.

“You’ve been bad, detective.” Still leaning against the car, you cross your arms over your chest, “Or should I say Daddy.”

Agnes stands straighter. There’s steel in her spine now, jaw taught as darkness comes over her expression. Amusement alights inside your chest.

Her hands begin to unravel the belt from the loops of her pants, “I’m going to paint your backside blue.”

“I don’t think so.” Your voice is hard. “You see, I had a lovely evening planned for us. Dinner, a movie, clean sheets for us to spend all night ruining. And we didn’t get to enjoy any of it because someone couldn’t control her temper. So you, daddy, are going to fuck me until I decide I’m ready to forgive you.”

“It’s cute that you think you’re in control, baby.”

Agnes steps into your space, belt in her hands. You stop her with a hand on her chest before she can get close enough to do anything.

“I am in control.”

“Those with the upper hand don’t usually have to state the fact.”

You tilt your head, “If you don’t give me what I want, you’re not going to touch me for weeks. I’ll fuck myself and all you’ll be able to do is watch. And I’ll stuff all the pairs of panties I ruin into your bag, your pockets… everywhere you go, you’ll be reminded of just what you’re missing.”

The smug expression slowly slips from her face. She tries to push forward again, but you’re unyielding; clenching your fist in the fabric of her shirt until she feels the subtle bite of your nails. There’s fury and a small trace of fear in her eyes.

It’s rare that you have the upper hand. Usually Agnes is twelve steps ahead of everyone—you included. But this time she miscalculated, and she’s going to pay for it.

“Your choice, daddy.”

She scoffs. Shaking her head, a few pieces of her hair free themselves from her low ponytail. They lay in and over her face before she blows them out of the way carelessly. She hasn’t been taking care of it, you can tell; and briefly, you consider if you can get away with commandeering her into taking better care of herself.

You likely shouldn’t push your luck. Agnes is going to punish you enough for this stunt, you’re sure.

The belt is tossed onto the ground a few feet away in a silent show of surrender. Her eyes are dark, churning with a mixture of fury and arousal. A brief moment passes where you wonder if you’re taking this a bit too far, but you shove it down; Agnes is an adult just as you are and will tell you if you cross any hard lines.

“Is the heat on in the cruiser?” You ask.

She pauses, taken-aback, “Yeah, of course.”

“Good. You’re going to fuck me in it later. But first—”

You open the back door of your own car as wide as it can go, just so you can perch on the seat with your feet still outside. With a smile, you open your legs wide. You hadn’t considered this outcome when you left the house for your drive, so your panties are relatively plain, but it doesn’t matter since they’re soaked through.

Agnes takes a step forward and you hold up a finger. She pauses. You point at the ground.

Her face goes red, “Not fucking likely.”

And then she’s on you. She’s holding herself up with one hand on the seat, the other dragging your face to hers. Her body rests perfectly between your legs. With a low moan, you roll your hips against her front.

Her grip on your face is painful. Thank god her nails are clipped short.

Agnes pulls away from your mouth to bite and suck at your throat. You throw your head back, still grinding up against her, moaning with abandon. The friction is nice but it isn’t what you wanted.

“I want you to eat me out.” You force out.

“I don’t care what you want.” Agnes growls.

“Oh? Well, I guess I should be prepared to handle my own orgasms for a while, then.”

As you say that, you stop grinding, and lay fully against the seat, one of your arms snaking its way down your front and between your thighs. You’ve only circled a finger around your clit twice before her hand catches your wrist in a punishing grip.

“Try it and I’ll tie you to the bed everyday when I go to work.”

“I made my terms abundantly clear.”

“You know what you forgot though, brat?” Agnes taunts, lips right next to your ear, “You’re too greedy to settle for your hand or your little toys. It’s only a matter of time before you get bored and come crawling back to me.”

“Maybe I’ll just crawl to someone else. Agent Vidal has been hanging around.”

A hand closes around your throat and you whine. She squeezes, your vision going fuzzy around the edges. You roll your hips.

“I’ll lock you in the house if you even think about it.” Her voice is hard, promising, “You’re mine, baby.”

“Prove it.”

That’s the wrong thing to say.

Agnes pulls back completely. Her hands leave you, the pressure of her body is gone. You look up and she’s standing just far enough away that you can’t touch her. You growl.

The look on her face is one you’ve seen a dozen times; the very same one she wears when you’re about to endure something you don’t like. But you vow not to let her have the upper hand. Not this time. This time, you’re going to make her bend.

“I’ll see you in the morning.” She says.

The words are like a bucket of cold water over your head. You don’t spend long dwelling on the threat, there’s no time.

Agnes is halfway back to the police cruiser when you worm your hand into your panties and bury two fingers inside without preamble. Despite being the source of your own pleasure, you jolt, back bowing off the seat. The moan that leaves your lips is exaggerated; pornographic.

“Oh, yes!”

You hear her footsteps come to a stop. You don’t dare open your eyes, not yet. The pleasure you’re experiencing is real, even if it is half of what it could be with Agnes’ help, but you have to keep up the act—have to make her jealous of your own fingers.

Though she hates to admit it, Agnes is jealous in all aspects of life. There’s a bit of healthy competitiveness worked in there that you can admire. Yet some days… some days she comes home fighting mad, hair a mess and muscles clenched tight as she recounts the events that made her that way. And lately they’ve all had the same person involved—

Agent Rio Vidal.

A loaner agent from the FBI, here to figure out some of the more poignant details of a murder on the Westview-Eastview county line. She’s confident and cutting and painfully attractive. Somehow, she knows how to push every single one of Agnes’ buttons, in work and play.

You’ve only met her twice and each time Agnes was an animal afterward. The appreciative glances and suggestive words made you blush—and though you won’t admit it, turned you on a good bit—while Agnes could barely hold herself back from attacking the woman. So possessive. So jealous.

You can use that.

The door on the other car hasn’t opened and you know she’s watching with rapt attention. You put on a good show, rolling your hips into your one hand while pinching at your chest with the other. You could get off on her watching.

Another exaggerated, high-pitched moan, “Oh, Agent Vidal!”

Though the woman is attractive, you can’t imagine anyone but your wife. Agnes doesn’t need to know that.

Strong hands grab your calves and pull you half-way out of the car. You squeak, eyes snapping open. Agnes looms above you and oh fuck you’re in trouble.

“You little bitch.” She snarls, hand coming to wrap around your throat.

You try to moan but she doesn’t give you that much air. Another deft hand rips your own from your panties, even going so far as to rip the fabric off completely. There’s the ghost of her fingers above your center. You roll your hips.

The sensation of loss and blurry edges is usually a huge turn-on; maybe it’s the intense change from oxygen to no oxygen, but you’re struggling more than normal. You tap her wrist three times.

Agnes pulls away completely. Her hand is off your neck, the other gone from between your thighs. You take in large lungfuls of air and feel your heart-rate slow just a little. A little whine works its way from your throat, though it’s mainly a result of the throbbing between your legs that’s still driving you crazy.

Your wife’s hands hover over you, eyes concerned, “Honey?”

“I’m okay. You didn’t hurt me.” You assure, sitting up and kissing one of her palms, “The quick change just… startled me. I’m okay.”

“Should I… Do you need me to take you home?”

“Oh no, Agnes O’Connor, you’re going to finish what you started.” Spreading your legs offers an obscene picture of just how soaked you are, made even more tantalizing by the ripped panties clinging to your thigh, “Unless you want me to find someone else who can finish the job.”

It’s like flipping a switch.

Overwhelming is a word that could be used to describe Agnes in bed—smothering, even. She has a way of overtaking every single one of your senses at once. Your skin is on fire with her touch, with the faint strands of hair tickling your face. The scent of burnt break-room coffee clings to her jacket. You even taste it when her tongue invades your mouth, moaning obscenely against your lips.

You like being smothered, though. You crave it; aching for anything that will let you turn your mind off and just feel.

Agnes pulls back. Her breath is hot against your lips, “You’re such a brat.”

“Only for you, daddy.” You murmur.

A shudder passes through her at the name. Her grip tightens on you, near bruising. You moan.

“Where do you want me?”

“With your mouth between my legs.”

“Fingers?”

“Yes, please.”

Agnes chuckles, “So you do remember your manners. Interesting.”

You roll your eyes. To your luck, Agnes doesn’t see—if she had, you would have been punished accordingly. Though you realize things are a bit off-balance with your threat hanging in the air; any other time, Agnes would have you bent anyway she pleased, taking all she wanted until you couldn’t handle any more.

Being in control is… odd. Not unwanted, but odd. You have to be more aware of yourself, confident in every command that leaves your lips. You’re glad that this is Agnes’ preferred role even if you’re enjoying the change.

Lips kiss the inside of your thighs and you shudder. When she sinks her teeth in, you squeal, jolting at the change. Your hand falls to the top of her head.

“Not what I meant!”

“Oh, then what did you mean?” She taunts.

“If you don’t make me come right now so help me—”

The heat of her mouth on you is enough to shut you up. Her tongue drags up your slit with agonizing slowness. She teases at your clit for only a moment before repeating the slow drag, making you whine, pressing her head closer.

You feel the rumble of her laughter and god help you the vibrations feel amazing. Yet when you try to move your hips for more, her hands keep them pressed firmly to the leather seat.

Another threat sits on your lips that never comes to pass. With the last slow lick, she fastens her lips around your clit and sucks, hard. It’s painful and wonderful and your back bows off the seat, hands scrambling for anything to clench into. The weeks have been long and you know you’re not going to last.

“I’m going to come.” You force out.

She laughs again. That, in combination with her attention focused solely on your clit, sends you straight over the edge. You feel wild, unhinged as your hips move without any guidance from your mind, chasing the waves of pleasure that make your every muscle go taut.

But when the pleasure subsides, Agnes doesn’t stop. She pushes two fingers inside and curls them in that way you like so much. You clench around them, though you ache, not ready for more so soon.

“I can’t—Please, I can’t.” You beg.

“One more, baby. You can give me that, can’t you?”

“I can’t.”

“You can.”

And you do. Her fingers know every inch of you well, her mind cataloging every spot that makes you whine, every move she performs that sends you over the edge. She calls on that knowledge as the pads of her fingers rub against that spot inside you with abandon until you can’t breathe, shrieking and moaning loud enough that you worry someone will hear you miles away.

The pleasure tenses your body so tight that you worry the muscles will never relax again. It hurts in that delicious way only Agnes can bring out.

When you do relax, she’s licking gently at you, collecting the flavor on her tongue and savoring it like a fine wine. You twitch. The hand you have in her hair pushes as you attempt to slide further onto the seat, away from her mouth.

“No more,” you beg, “please.”

“Am I forgiven?”

You laugh, breathless, “Not quite.”

You tug her up wordlessly until the weight of her is draped over you. It’s nice, comforting to feel her close. Her warmth helps fight against the cold biting at your lower half. Sighing, you bury your face in her neck, your hand coming up to lazily play with her hair.

Agnes accepts the touch. She traces little patterns on your hip over the nightgown, soft and quiet. You can still see the red and blue lights from your hiding place in her neck.

“Why do you have the Chief’s car?” You ask.

She scoffs, “Mine broke down three hours into the shift. Had to call the Chief and walk all the way to his house to get the cruiser.”

“What? Agnes, why didn’t you call me?”

“I wanted you to enjoy your night in, honey.”

You think about arguing, but you recognize the exhaustion in her voice, and decide not to push it—for now. It’s an argument you can save for later.

“So what was it, the battery? I thought we just replaced it.”

“I think the old girl might just be done for. We’ve had her for a while.” Agnes shrugs.

“But that’s… we brought Nicky home in that car.” You whisper, chest aching.

Another piece of your life—connected to your baby—that you won’t get to keep. Agnes tenses, her breathing growing ragged, and you feel terrible; she’s likely already thought about this the whole shift, spent all these hours remembering it alone. That’s why she didn’t call you—she didn’t want to drag you bag into the deep end of the pain, too.

You press a gentle kiss to the side of her neck. No wonder she took the first opportunity to play with you, she needed the distraction.

“I’m sorry, my love.” You murmur.

“Not your fault, honey. These things happen.”

She sounds less and less like herself with every moment. You don’t want to shove the grief aside—the grief counselor said that only made things worse—but this isn’t how you want to handle it; Agnes draped over your freshly-debauched form in the backseat of your car.

This is a conversation, a breakdown for home, where the two of you can take all the time you need to soak in the new loss. You need to distract her away from this.

“Will the force offer you one of their vehicles?”

“Yeah. They should.”

“Where did you break down?”

“By the bridge on Old Forest.”

Perfect.

“Let’s give her a proper sendoff, then.”

Agnes pauses. The look she gives you is questioning, as if not quite believing your suggestion, but she knows better—knows you’re serious about this.

“Alright.”

Which is how you find yourself halfway across town, on a back road with no streetlights, pulling off perilously close to a ditch. Agnes' car is unmistakable even in the dark—from the extra mirror on the hood reflecting the moonlight to the dent in the back bumper she never got fixed. You feel suddenly overwhelmed as you trace your fingers over the body.

So many memories, good and bad. Your late-night trysts in the back seat. Bringing Nicky home. The back seat full of his stinky sports gear. Agnes’ old case files winding up on the floor.

Agnes comes up and drapes her jacket over your shoulders. The warmth of her body has seeped into the cloth, now blocking out the chill in the air, “This might not be the best idea.”

You raise a brow, “Cold feet, detective?”

“Mine are nice and warm. Yours, however...”

She looks up and down your scantily-clad form with a worried furrow of her brow. It’s sweet, but not needed.

“I don’t think our plans will keep me anything but warm.” You smile, leaning back against the car while pulling Agnes close, until every inch of her is pressed against your front. Her hands settle on your hips as she kisses you with a softness belaying the vulnerability she still feels, “Unlock the car.”

“Honey—”

“Agnes, would you rather I went home?” You murmur.

“Of course not.”

“Then what do you want?”

“Beats me.”

“You know what I want?”

Using your leverage against the vehicle, you draw one of your feet up the inside of Agnes’ leg, careful to press every part of yourself against her. Her warmth radiates through her flannel and jeans and you smile.

She raises a brow, “I’m sure I can guess.”

“I want you to bend me over in the backseat of this car like you did that first time. You remember, don’t you? How pissed you were that I’d been teasing you for five dates.” You laugh at the memory, “You couldn’t even make it out of the restaurant parking lot.”

“You were so loud we almost got caught.” She recalls, voice low, gravelly.

“There’s no one around to catch us now.”

Agnes wraps one of her arms around your waist and uses it to tug you sideways, making quick work of unlocking the car. With the hand not on your waist, she opens the back door, and eases her jacket from your shoulders. She lays it out on the cold seats with the warm side up.

Not for the first time, you’re moved by her consideration of your comfort. It would be so easy for a partner to disregard the little things if it meant getting to the end goal faster; but not Agnes. You reward her with a long, slow kiss.

When she pulls away, there’s a fond little smile on her lips. She pats your hip, “On your hands and knees.”

You obey without question. Crawling onto the backseat, you’re reminded of just how confined the space of a car is. You have to keep your head bowed so as not to hit your head on the roof. It’ll be worth your while, but you know the two of you will be feeling the adverse effects of this choice for days.

Agnes follows and shuts the door behind her. She works her way into the backseat until not a bit of space exists between the two of you. Every inch of her front is pressed against you, draped over you like a warm blanket. You push your backside back into her crotch, teasing.

“I should’ve sent you home to get your purple.” You say.

“Be good and you can have my cock later.”

Warm fingertips trail up the back of your thigh until they snake under the hem of your nightgown. The soothing heat of her touch is lovely compared to the bite of the cold air. You lean into it.

“Yes, daddy.” You sigh.

Her body pulls away from yours and you turn, confused. A sharp slap to your backside makes your breath stutter, your core clenching around nothing. Your toes curl.

“Interesting that you want to be good now, when you’ve been testing me all night.”

“What can I say? I’m motivated by rewards.”

You’re satisfied that Agnes seems to be in the moment, rather than locked up in the memories in her head. Intent on keeping it that way, you lean back into her, arching so you can match her entirely. Her muscles go taut and relax and being able to feel it makes you ravenous.

Two fingers push your ripped panties aside and begin to drag up your slit, teasing. It should be noted that you are trying to be good for her, offering the control she takes to so well. You like to think she can tell, too.

When she slips her fingers inside you without torturing you further, you’re sure she knows.

You push back, desperate. You want more of her and bad. It’s as if the orgasms she gave you less than an hour ago never happened. Every muscle in your body quakes with the knowledge of what only Agnes can give you. And you want it so deeply that it threatens to bring tears to your eyes.

“Please.” You beg without prompting, “Please, more.”

A split-second hesitation belays her surprise, but she does slip another finger inside, stretching you even wider. You can’t stop how you move, nor the noises that come out of your mouth. You feel cursed with hunger only she can sate.

It’s this car, this backseat, and the memories here that are driving you so mad. It’s the life attached to it that you never thought you would get; a family, a future, a wife who loves you despite all the ugly parts others had run from. It’s the years you haven’t had to live out alone, the pain you’ve shared. It’s the fact that this act was once a beginning and now it’s an end.

Her lips press against the back of your neck, impossibly gentle, so unlike the role she’s meant to be playing. Something inside you breaks.

“Agnes—“ You choke out.

“It’s okay, honey.”

You let go.

You let go from holding yourself back—fucking yourself on her fingers until you shriek with pleasure. You let go of the ball of emotions in your chest, of hunger and pleasure and guilt. You let go of the pain and let tears spill over onto your cheeks.

It’s not the best orgasm you’ve ever had, but it doesn’t need to be. It’s a goodbye to this piece of your life. It’s an end. And it hurts just the same as it feels good to embrace the potential of something new.

Agnes holds you, steady as ever. You feel the dampness of her own tears on your neck.

You turn and lay on your back, welcoming the weight of her. You use your thumbs to wipe away the tears coming from her beautiful blue eyes.

“Am I forgiven, or do we have to go another round?” She asks.

You grin, not taking your hands from her face, “You’re forgiven, my love.”

“Thank god.”

Agnes drops her head until it rests on your chest. You laugh, extracting the hair tie so you can run your fingers through the length of it. Her arms wrap around you as much as they can.

She presses a kiss to your chest, over where your heart is. You gently work through a knot in between your fingers. The windows are clouded with perspiration. Beads of water reflect what little moonlight peeks through the trees. Moonlight or no, you know every dip and curve of your wife’s form, and could identify every part of her without sight.

The stale coffee smell has worn off, replaced by the faint undertones of the cologne she wears each morning. It’s deep and musky and comforting.

Maybe it’s the weight of her head on your chest in combination with the memories that makes you speak, “Have you ever thought about us trying again?”

She tilts her head so she can look up into your eyes without lifting from her resting place. Her brows are furrowed.

“Trying again?”

The weight of her beautiful eyes on you almost makes you change the subject. These conversations are so much easier without that layer of intimacy. But you’ve started something and you’ll be damned if you don’t finish it.

“To be parents.” You whisper.

“I’m a little past due on that, baby.” Her smile is self-deprecating.

“I’m not.”

“You never wanted to carry. I remember that much.”

“That was then.” You continue smoothing through her hair, “Now… If you want to try again, I’ll do it. I want to do it.”

You can’t decipher the look in her eyes. She doesn’t pull away, but she’s tense.

“We don’t need to decide right now. We have time.”

She nods, “Alright.”

“You’ll still be daddy, even if you aren’t my baby-daddy.”

“That was terrible.”

It doesn’t stop her from grinning, nor does it stop you from laughing. Something in the tension eases. You can’t lean down and kiss her like this, so you press a kiss to the pads of your fingers, and press them to her lips. She nips at them playfully.

The quiet is nice, but you can feel the cold settling into your bones. You need to be back in a heated car before you get sick.

“When is your shift over?”

“In a few hours.”

You nod, figuring out what time she’ll come home and how it fits into your schedule, “I have nothing after work if you want me to make good on those orgasms I owe you.”

“I look forward to it.”

It takes some time, but you and Agnes manage to untangle yourselves and worm your way out of the back seat. She sits, keeping you wrapped in her coat, until the inside of your own car is nice and warm. That earns her a few lingering kisses.

She trails you on the drive home before speeding off to do god knows what during the last few hours of her shift. And when you fall asleep—already feeling sore—an eagerness sets in your chest of what awaits. With an end, a new beginning.

#agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness #agatha all along #agnes o'connor #agnes o'connor x reader #agatha all along x reader #agatha all along fanfiction #agatha harkness fanfiction #wlw #wlw fanfiction #nov2024 #multimilfswritings

344 notes · View notes

slasherscream · 1 year ago

Note

the crazy ass boys and that punisher scene *would* be kooky crazy and you absolutely should do it - the FLAVOR…

A/N: do i feel bad for reader? yeah, of course... but lowkey this shit kinda funny. TW: the kevin and josh parts of this feature attempted sexual assault of reader. if you get the urge to community label this block me and don't read it instead xoxo.

crazy ass boys gang + reader kills someone based on that one punisher scene

billy loomis:

He deserves it. The hands wrapped tightly around his throat, his mind going foggy from the lack of oxygen. Head pounding in pain from the several blows he’d taken to it. His vision swims as he stares up at the monster he himself had created: Ghostface.

One thing he’d never considered about making it so he and Stu were the sole survivors of the Woodsboro massacre was what tantalizing targets they’d become for any Ghostface copycats. He curses himself for it now. It was ridiculous to think that infamy like theirs wouldn’t inspire other bloodthirsty maniacs.

To be murdered in his own home, the way so many of his own victims met their fate, is particularly insulting.

‘What an ironic way to go,’ Billy thinks as he starts to black out.

And that should be it. There shouldn’t be anything after the blackness. But suddenly he’s taking large, greedy gulps of air again and rolls to the side heaving. He finds himself face to face with the Ghostface copycat who sports a new accessory: a kitchen knife in the side of their neck.

Senses coming back to him, he slowly begins to hear the miserable animal-like whimpering of another person in the room and rolls onto his back. Standing over him and his cheap knockoff is his partner, Y/N, blood splattered across their trembling hands.

“Did I kill them? Are they dead?” Before you’ve even finished the sentence Billy is shaking his head no.

“No, baby, no you didn’t kill them. It’s okay.” The words hurt to get out but he forces them anyway. He has to reassure you that you aren’t like him. That you aren’t a killer.

Believe it or not, he never wanted this for you. You aren’t like him or Stu. You aren’t built for this. But here you are, blood on your hands because it came down to Billy or a stranger and you’ll always choose Billy, no matter what the choice costs you.

Billy forces himself to move when he notices the way the rise and fall of the Ghostface’s chest slow to the jerking heaves of the dying.

He yanks the knife from their neck and they make a gurgling, wet noise of pain. It’s the sound people make while they drown in their own blood. Billy is more than used to it, and barely registers it. But as quiet as the room is, the noise is deafening for you, and you turn to retch.

“You didn’t kill anyone baby, I promise.” Billy slits their throat so quickly it’s done before you even turn back around. “I killed them, okay?”

josh washington:

Josh’s hearing these days is inhuman, which is only fair since Josh himself isn’t quite human these days.

Also inhuman is his bond with you. He’s in tune with you, to put it lightly. His abnormally cold body forever seeks out the heat of your own. He relishes in your calming scent. He listens eagerly for the sound of your breathing, your heartbeat, your voice.

That’s why, even with the music at this party turned up to deafening volumes, he registers the sound of your scream as if you were standing side by side.

The noise awakens something animalistic in him. His mouth, already half split into a permanent, razor-toothed snarl, pulls back even further. He looks monstrous. He pushes and shoves violently through the crowd of mindlessly gyrating bodies in a panic.

‘Where are you, Y/N?!’ He thinks, sick to his stomach.

Even through the heavy smells of sweat, alcohol, and weed, he’s able to follow your scent outside. Here he’s in his element. The air is clear and damp, and it’s easy to track you. You’re in the woods just beyond the house, still screaming, when he finds you.

Immediately he gathers you in his arms, snarling and growling into the open air at any potential threats.

“I killed him. I killed him, Josh.” You shriek, voice high and sharp with panic.

He nuzzles his cheek against yours comfortingly. It takes him a second to remember he’s human and can speak. That’s when he smells the blood. His pupils dilate at the sweet, metallic scent and he searches for the source, eyes seeing perfectly even in the darkness of the night.

His eyes land on a man laying haphazardly on the ground, head bent at an odd angle on a rock. Blood oozes sluggishly over the stone and Josh’s heart stops at the sight.

“I was just trying to get some air and this guy followed me out here and he wouldn’t leave me alone, so I ran, but he followed me. He followed me! And he tried to…” You sob on the words that won’t come and Josh knows instantly what happened. His mind paints the rest of the horrible picture. “... all I was doing was trying to get him off me. That’s all I was trying to do! I didn’t mean to kill him, Josh. Oh god, I didn’t mean to kill him.”

You’re not a killer. Josh isn’t one either… but if he has to choose which one of you will have to bear the weight of taking a life he knows he won’t let it be you.

He crosses over to the man, who looks up at Josh with unseeing eyes. There’s only one thing to do. Josh bends down low and braces himself for the way your attacker's blood will taste when he rips out their throat with his teeth.

stu macher:

text from babygirl/babyboy: [ stu there is someone in the house pls hurry im scared ]

He glanced down at the pocket of his jeans ready to roll his eyes when he heard your text notification.

You were probably texting him because you’d checked the kitchen and realized you needed some spice or vegetable ‘desperately’ to be able to make dinner tonight. He almost felt like ignoring it and telling you he hadn’t seen the text until he pulled into the driveway of your home.

But begrudgingly he paused, shifted the grocery bags around in his arms, and pulled out his phone.

His heart stopped.

Instantly, he knew you were serious. He might fuck with you like this but you’d never do the same to him. He dropped the groceries on the ground and ran to the car.

He doesn’t text you to ask if you’re okay. He’s terrified of the answer he could get. More terrified of getting no answer at all, so he just drives. He focuses on the thought of you at home, needing him, and breaks every speeding law there is to get to you.

He parks down the street so as to not tip off the intruder. He grabs the hunting knife he always keeps in his car even though Billy tells him not to and stalks like an animal toward the home you’ve built together. The rage he feels is indescribable. Someone is in his house terrorizing what’s his.

He creeps in through the wide open back door of the house. He pauses and listens for a sound over the pounding of the blood in his ear.

Nothing. For one soul crushing moment there’s nothing at all.

Then he hears the sound of you crying from upstairs and it makes his heart stop. He runs up the stairs as quietly as he can and throws himself into the bedroom ready to do anything to save you.

But you’ve already saved yourself, it seems.

You’ve curled yourself up in the corner closest to the door, watching as the man who attacked you bleeds out from the stab wounds you put in his stomach.

Stu stops moving and watches as the man tries to stop himself from bleeding out, his own cries blending with yours. You were smart enough to keep the knife and you hold it towards the man, shaking with adrenaline and fear.

“Baby-” Stu’s voice breaks the spell you’re in and you turn to him and begin to cry in earnest. You were holding yourself together, waiting on him to save you and he came too late.

“He’s dying Stu, I killed him. Oh god, I killed someone.” Blood from the knife you’re holding drips onto the hardwood floor of your bedroom.

“No, baby, you didn’t kill him.” Stu already failed you tonight. He’s not going to let you become a killer because someone broke into your house and you had to survive.

He crosses the room, kneels in front of the burglar, and stabs them twice in the neck. The warm blood hits his face and he doesn’t even relish in it. Just waits for the light in the burglar’s eyes to dim. When it does he turns back to you.

“I killed them, honey.”

jd/jason dean:

The sound of a gunshot rings through the basement loud and clear.

JD freezes, mind racing as he thinks of what to do next. It’s not every day that you’re caught planting bombs in the building where the Dean’s office happens to be. This was his last stop.

All the other bombs have already been carefully placed throughout campus. Even if he’s caught now, the detonator is only just out of reach. If he can reach it, the plan will still be a success. The only minor hiccup would be dying beneath a couple thousand piles of rubble. But that’s a small thing. It’d be worth it. For you, JD would do anything.

This university had taken everything from you. He’d watched it happen. Had sat by, rage simmering just beneath the surface as he tried to let you handle your own problems. You’d insisted he’d let you handle the situation. You’d let yourself get walked all over, is what happened. But JD doesn’t blame you for how everything turned out.

You’re too gentle. Too sweet. You don’t have that animal instinct to fight or go to war. It was one of the reasons you endeared yourself to JD so quickly. You were intensely vulnerable in a world so resolutely cruel that you were breathtaking just by existing. To watch you come to harm of any kind was painful. But it all ended today. Even if it killed him.

“Oh no, oh please no.” Your voice makes JD turn in bewilderment.

“What on Earth are you doing here-” JD’s eyes go wide at the scene before him.

There’s a security guard on the ground, unconscious, a pool of blood seeping from them. He can see the entry wound on their back. He wonders if the bullet is lodged in them or if it went straight through.

“I didn’t want to kill him. I was just- I was coming to stop you from doing this but I didn’t… I saw the guard coming up behind you with a gun, and… and his finger was on the trigger. He was gonna kill you. He was gonna-”

JD steps gracefully around the puddle of blood the guard is making and takes you into his arms. You fall into them with a wet sob.

He feels his heart go warm, the way it always does when he holds you. You came here to stop him from protecting you and wound up protecting him in turn. Whether you like it or not, the two of you are soulmates. You’ll always come first to one another. Damn the rest of the world entirely.

But JD knows you’re too tender for this. Knows that killing will break your spirit, not free you the way it freed him.

He gently pries the gun from your fingers (and almost laughs at the thought of you trying to confront him with his own gun), turns, and shoots the guard execution-style in the back of his head.

“You didn’t kill anyone, darling. You don’t have it in you.” He pulls you back into his arms. “But don’t worry about that, you’ll never have to when I’m around.”

kevin khatchadourian:

Kevin told you the guy was bad news. But generally, Kevin was an untrustworthy judge of character because he hated everyone, especially anyone who pulled any of your precious attention away from him. So, you decided to tutor the other man despite Kevin’s insistence you do no such thing.

You should have listened to Kevin.

Of course, your classmate didn’t actually need tutoring. He was just trying to get close to you. He said as much as he pinned you against your couch, rough hand sliding up up up your leg, to the juncture of your thighs. It quickly became clear that your classmate didn’t care whether or not you wanted to become close to him as well.

You’d shoved him away from you as hard as you could once he started trying to remove your clothes. It was a good shove. He’d landed right on the corner of the coffee table. There’d been a sickening crunch as the back of his head hit the wood. Then there was nothing. And now he was making a low, animal noise from what seemed like the very pit of his stomach. He must’ve been in agony.

You didn’t move a muscle. You were probably in shock. You just sat, holding your ripped shirt to your chest. All the while knowing that if you didn’t do something soon, this man that had tried to force himself on you would die.

Kevin walked in through the front door of your apartment. You heard him take off his shoes. Throw his keys onto the table in your entryway. Heard him begin to shuffle his way toward the scene of the soon-to-be crime.

“Y/N?” He’s suddenly kneeling in front of you, blocking the view of your attacker, who still keeps on with that miserable whining.

“Kevin?” Numbly, you reach for him, place your hands on his shoulders and grip them tightly. You try to pull him towards you but he holds himself away, staring at you.

“What happened?”

You glance a little to the side and can see the other man still sprawled across the ground. “I should have listened to you.”

Kevin’s thumb gently drags along your freshly busted lip, smearing blood along the length of your mouth, “What happened?”

His voice is so unusually tender that the haze of confusion and fear breaks and you sob. You try again to pull him towards you and this time he comes willingly, enveloping you in his arms. For someone so distant, who adopts and discards emotions and feelings as easily as a mask, Kevin’s embraces are always tight and all-consuming.

You stay like that for only a few minutes. When Kevin pulls back, he wipes away your tears with your own ripped shirt. You stare at one another. You never know what he’s thinking, now being no exception, but for once you let yourself get lost in the inky blackness of his eyes and feel comforted, not unnerved.

“Go take a bath.” The command comes out of nowhere.

“What? Kevin I-” A slightly louder moan than the rest cuts you off and the look on Kevin’s face fades from whatever was there when he was looking at you to his typical viciousness.

“I’m going to put him out of his misery. He’s already dying. There’s no use calling an ambulance, and I wouldn’t let you anyway. So you’re going to let me do what I need to do, and you’re going to go take a bath while I do it. Then you’ll go to bed, and when you wake up, it will all be over. Understand?”

He doesn’t give you the option to disobey. He helps you to your feet, guides you to the bathroom, and even starts the bath for you. Then he goes back into the living room to kill a man as if it means nothing to him.

You sit in the bath with your knees to your chest, and listen to the sounds of running water instead of focusing on the fact that the man has finally gone quiet.

#crazy ass boys gang #billy loomis x reader #stu macher x reader #jd x reader #josh washington x reader #kevin khatchadourian x reader #heathers imagine #scream imagine #until dawn imagine #we need to talk about kevin imagine #ran out of steam to do nathan sparrow ben and david #maybe one day #if you see any typos respectfully no you didn't lmao #ENJOY y'all been waiting for this one

672 notes · View notes

spidrzfall · 3 months ago

Text

Masks, messages, and secrets ⤑ Peter Parker.

finally, i have time to write again. Oh my goodness. enjoy this one, you guys! Sorry if it's not like totally action packed honestly this is a slow burn, and with a ton of small ideas, im working on, so bare with me, please. Im trying, i promise, but this is bound to have some just generic normal people living life scenes, so yeah! Sorry if this is disappointing, though. love you all xoxo - A.

☆° Peter Parker x Male Reader

☆° part two of Tough Night.

☆°�� FLUFF - just some banter splice of life stuff babes.

°•▪︎ Fem readers DNI ♡♡

♧ warnings: Language, all characters are 21+ ♧

♡ READ PART ONE : Click me!

♡ Part Three : Coming Soon !

(M/N) didn’t have the gulls to tell Eugene he was secretly texting Peter on the side, after their small dispute the week after, it was almost impossible to even bring up the subject of Peter. It wasn’t hard to see that Eugene was little to not a fan of Peter at all, talking (M/N)’s ear off about how much of a push over he was and he wasn’t someone he wanted his brother to be associated with. Eugene since a young age cared deeply about his brother, from the second his parents brought him from the adoption center a part of him felt the spark of keeping him close, that brotherly instinct to care more about the other and teach him to fend off for himself. Even at a young age Eugene made sure (M/N) knew how to protect himself, not be a pushover to anybody and especially not take shit from anyone.

Home life wasn’t easy on the two, Their father was a drunk who actively threatened their lives and well beings whilst their mother aside from being absent anytime she was in their lives she only instigated the yelling and mental drainess that came along with even living with their father and an absent mother. Eugene always made sure to protect his brother from then, basically taking him into his own care with making them food, getting supplies for their classes in school, driving (M/N) half across Queens to school because the two were enrolled in different schools, making sure his brother didn’t endure everything that happened at home by taking every yelling from their dad. Even with taking bullets for the other he basically trained (M/N) to defend himself, times where he influenced him to not be a pushover…

Everything he claimed Peter was, he never wanted his brother to be.

Was it a surprise to anyone when (M/N) was secretly texting Peter behind Eugene’s back? No. A part of (M/N) was rebellious, whilst he did appreciate Eugene’s protectiveness he couldn’t help but admit sometimes it was overbearing, he knew Eugene had good intentions but there were times he felt he couldn’t even become friends with anyone because of his brother. That of course struck rebelion, the rebellion of (M/N) Thompson. Secretly being a lot more sympathetic, being friends with (what his brother called) losers, not mixing in with the crowd, letting his heart weave the way into life and not his judgment. He allowed himself to be free, something Eugene couldn’t be. Though (M/N) knew why, it was how the guy was born it wasn’t like he had a choice but be a close minded and rough guy. He let his own anger and judgment cloud his decisions and way of expression that was toxic and cruel, which (M/N) would be lying if he said his brother wasn’t changing those old ways now that he was an adult. But that was just still in the works.

Another ding came from (M/N)’s phone, as he slurred in his sleep before another one came through…and another..and another. As he groaned, putting a pillow atop his head trying to tune out the noise, knowing it was probably Eugene texting him something stupid or a string of memes, though it came to the slight realization that (M/N) had Eugene muted on his phone. As he slowly peaked his eye from underneath the pillow as he tiredly grabbed his phone, groaning at the light immiting as his eyes adjusted before checking his notifications Peter’s contact showing through as he looked at the time, what the fuck was this guy doing up at 5 A.M.

(M/N) chuckled as he rolled his eyes before grabbing his phone and rolling over to get comfortable as he opened up his phone and went over to messages, taking note of the 10+ notifications from Eugene’s silenced contact as he ignored them before going to Peters contact, a stiff laugh leaving his lips as he replied.

(M/N) set his phone back down before settling back into bed and drifted into his deep state of sleep. The room, dark some hints of the sunshine occasionally shining through but not enough to separate him from his sleep, his snores echoing in the four walls of his bedroom as the slow quiet hum of the apartment's A.C can be heard. The cold breeze substituting the once warm bedroom.

It wasn’t that late by the time (M/N) woke up, shuffling out of bed and grabbing his towel before tiredly making his way to the bathroom and beginning his day with a fresh cold shower, the cold water that hit his skin slowly dissolving the fatigue from his body and into a state of mind where he was finally ready to start the day. Stepping out the shower and into his towel as he dried himself and put on clothes that were much more comfortable yet presentable as he dried his damp hair, adding some coconut oil just to enhance his hair's health and get rid of any damage. Putting on his shoes before tackling his messenger bag that looked like it was massively decorated by a 5 year old who was handed unlimited access to pins and buttons, stepping out the door and to the more lively part of where he lived. Eventually stumbling across his favorite breakfast joint, SoBal Forest Hills, stepping inside as he ordered his usual which was an Acai Bowl, eating it peacefully before stepping out only for somebody to bump into him, making his breakfast splatter on his shirt, staining it a magenta color with sprinkles of the granola that laid atop of it.

“Watch it! God dammit this was my favorite shirt..” (M/N) mumbled as he tried to take off the remains of the now ruined food. Turning to the guy he had bumped into only for a flash of red and blue to pass by him, Spider-Man. Of course, only the one person who bumped into him the whole day was a criminal being chased down by the well known vigilante, looks like he wasn’t getting an apology anytime soon. Deciding to live with the stain as the salvaged the little of acai left in the bowl as he ate it up before throwing it away and making his way towards the small supermarket nearby as he picked up some food he thought he needed to survive the next couple of weeks before finally going back home, stepping inside, placing the groceries onto the wooden dining table and quickly taking off the stained shirt, dragging himself into his bedroom before placing on a brand new shirt, shuffling out his jeans and into some basketball shorts before going to unpack his groceries.

Nightfall not taking to long to arrive before he heard his phone buzz in the midst of him ordering some food ,feeling too lazy to cook, as he looked at the notification, falling in from Peter who was asking him to call which (M/N) gladly accepted as he looked at his phone that had an incoming call as he accepted, a loud windy sound coming from the speaker as he chuckled. “Dude, where are you? A giant fan?” (M/N) was the first to speak as Peter let out a dry laugh “No, I’m just running. Mother hubbard, I’m exhausted.” Peter panted, his voice partially muffled which (M/N) assumed was the sound quality as the windy sound finally came to an end, most likely from him stopping to take a breath. “So Acai bowl huh?” Peter continued after finally catching his breath, a small pant still leaving his lips.

“How’d you know?” (M/N) leaned against this counter, as he crossed his arm. His phone on the counter and on speaker, Peter's voice echoing from the phone's speakers. “I was doing some outdoor photography for work and I saw you, I was gonna call out but you seemed frustrated so I let you be.” – “Could’ve bought me another Acai bowl, just saying could’ve put me in a much better mood.” (M/N) joked as it managed to get a laugh out of Peter which made the other smile. “SoBal Forest Hills, right? It’s near where we live so I might at some point, when I’m feeling nice.” Peter replied. “Oh when he feels nice, what an honor.”

“yeah yeah, don’t get flustered on me now- shit I gotta go, sorry man. I’ll text you! Bye- Hey!” Peter had a small outburst before the call hung up as (M/N) stood in his kitchen, a confused look on his face before shaking his head and continuing to order his food. Awaiting for it, cuddling up into a blanket on his couch, Forest Gump playing on his television, his attention drawn away as a small knock came from his balcony. As he raised a brow, not sure if he heard it before it happened again as he stood up and cautiously peeked through the curtains. A glimpse of red and blue shining from outside as his eyes made contact with the familiar almost diamond oval shaped lenses as he took a double take. Opening the curtains as it revealed Spider-Man on the other side which caused (M/N) to rub his eyes before opening his balcony.

“Spider-Man?” (M/N)’s voice was laced with uncertainty as he looked at the masked vigilante who waved at him, the other hand behind the hero's back. “You’re the guy the car thief bumped into this morning, right? Acai bowl guy.” Spider-Man finally spoke as he faced (M/N) settling on the edge of the balcony, the question earning him a nod from the man. Spider-Man’s hand came out from hiding to reveal an acai bowl, “Here. As an apology for this morning.” The hero handed him the small bowl as (M/N) hesitated but took it. “Thanks…How’d you know I live here?” There’s a question the hero didn’t expect as he let out a nervous laugh, it’s not like he could tell the other he was Peter so he came up with an obvious lie, “It’s a part of the powers.”

“The powers?” (M/N) crossed his arm over the other as he raised a brow, skeptical. “Yeah. the powers.” Spider-Man repeated, affirming him. “So where does my friend Shane live?” (M/N) asked as he eyed the hero who scrambled for a reply. “Okay it’s not the powers but I have my ways to know these things.” – “So a stalker.” – “No, gross. I’m not some weirdo.” Spider-Man scoffed as he waved his hand as a dismissal. “You’re a guy in red and blue spandex who can thwip out webs from the wrist and climb walls, I don’t think you get a pass from not being called a weirdo.” (M/N) replied. “I take it back, i want the bowl back.” Spider-Man joked as he extended out a hand to take the bowl back. “Hey! No. this was an apology gift” (M/N) replied, laughing. “Well i take back my apology.” Spider-Man protested, enjoying the familiar banter.

“You are so much more rude than what people let on.” (M/N) spoke before temporarily going inside to put away the acai bowl. Going back outside where he had left the vigilante. “Only when I need to.” The other replied. “Your voice sounds familiar…has anyone ever told you that?” (M/N) asked as he leaned against the railing of the balcony “Only a few dozen people, I have a handsome recognizable voice, probably a celebrity.”

“Yeah? You’re probably some celebrity named Andrew Garfield or something weird like that…”

“Andrew?Jees no. ”

“Is your name Andrew”

“You’re off by a landslide.”

The two laughed, before staring at each other. Quickly interrupted by a knock coming from inside as (M/N) stepped in for a while hearing it again, “that’s my dinner…say do you wanna split..it…” (M/N) paused as he turned around only to see nobody looking back at him, the hero long gone as he frowned before closing the balconies glass door and curtains and getting his food, thanking the delivery person, in the midst of it all finding himself wishing the hero stayed longer. A text interrupting his thoughts, It was Peter, telling him he was home from his run as (M/N) texted back a ‘glad your home safe’ only for a request of a call to come in which he accepted. Eugene on the other line, “You’ll never guess who came by tonight” (M/N) began interrupting Eugene’s hello. “Who?” Alex adjusted himself on the floor, chewing his food quickly and swallowed it before replying back to Eugene.

“Spider-Man!”

“Bullshit.” Eugene laughed. “He brought me an acai bowl.” (M/N) replied before adding another piece of food into his mouth a satisfied hum leaving his mouth as he savored it. “Why?” Eugene asked as he can be heard shuffling, blankets rustling given he was most likely on his bed. “Some guy ran into me this morning throwing my breakfast onto my shirt and he felt sorry so he brought me some.” Eugene only hummed in reply “How’d he know where you live?”

“His powers.”

“His powers?”

“Yep. His powers.”

credit :: enchanthings - dividers !!

@darknessbringer the ideas !!

#andrew garfield x male reader #tasm peter parker #tasm peter parker x male reader #andrew garfield #male reader #andrew garfield peter parker #andrew garfield peter parker x male reader #peter parker x male reader #the amazing spider man

36 notes · View notes

silvervioletvalentine · 1 year ago

Text

🎱🖤!The boyfriend experience!🖤🎱

Pairing : Quinn Hughes x Cherrie!

Word count : 10k

Summary: in which he’s bad with words so Trevor comes up with plan ‘the boyfriend experience’ . Aka- show her what’s it’s like to have a man that’s in love with her In hopes that she sees what was right there waiting for her all along.

Warnings: fluff. Tiny bit of angst? Dickhead ex’s and Cherrie and Q snap like little angtsy bitches at each other like once or twice. That’s it? I think. Idek. I’m not sure I like this one but have it anyways! Xoxo

Quinn felt like their weekends were repeating itself as they heard the slamming of their front door, high heels being thrown angrily to the floor before she let out a strangled scream of heartbreak , frustration and hurt .

Not looking in either of their directions as she stomped through the apartment with tears in her eyes , pretty dress all rumpled and lips trembling again .

Quinn shared a familiar look with Trevor as they both watched their friend sniffle and cry over yet another guy that wasn't worth a single tear of hers , feeling his own heart squeeze painfully in his chest for her, the same way he did every time this happened.

He oftened wondered why such a beautiful and golden hearted woman like Cherrie kept letting these stupid , heartless assholes break her down like this.

De ja vu became the same old song , the same tune, the same lyrics but with a different man each time. All of them causing her nothing but heartbreak and pain, yet she never stopped or gave in.

Trevor told him it was because she had watched her mother do the same thing , going through guy after guy her whole life. Screaming , crying and going through the same endless cycle of toxicity and drama until she finally found the one.

Like Mother , like daughter . All she wanted was to find her one, her person ..her best friend. So she looked and she searched , she laughed prettily at date nights , she let them touch her skin and kiss her blue but each time she came back home alone. Each time yet another attempt at love needed , Quinn could see the light slowly fading from her pretty eyes , could see the strain in her sweet smile . Could see the toll the heartbreak was taking on her body as she grew more tense , more on edge and more argumentative .

Refusing to listen to any of them, refusing to believe that her friends advice was right . That love would find her when she was ready , that she needed to stop looking for love in dirty bars and sleezy clubs, that she wasn't going to meet the one past midnight.

But Cherrie was stubborn , and she was a hopeless romantic . A hot mess. So she went on every date , accepted every touch and every empty kiss in hopes that it would make her feel something .

Longing to feel that spark , to feel her heart come alive again , to just feel something other than pain, other than disappointment and guilt when yet another attempt at love blew up in her face.

Trying to push down the tears as the disgust and self doubt set in, wondering why they didn't want her like she wanted them too. Wondering why she wasn't enough to keep them loyal, wondering why every man she tried to love always turned out to be the same .

Liars with pretty faces and the charm of a two faced snake .

Another notch added to her pain as she saw her boyfriend leave a party with someone that wasn't her. Watched him smile like he had never smiled at her , kissing this beautiful girl like she was the star in his sky.

Her boyfriend found the one. And it wasn't her. It never was. She was always the stepping stone for them to find someone better. Every ex boyfriend had found the one after ruining her , after ripping her apart and tearing her heart to pieces .

They got their happily ever after . They got their happy story. They got their one. Their northern star.

Cherrie got Empty apology's , the 'it's not you it's me.' She got the slammed doors and pitying looks from her friends as yet another man didn't want her.

She could feel the hollowness spreading across her chest as she sniffled and roughly wiped at her eyes, glaring over at a grimacing Trevor , who was shaking his head quietly at her. Looking like he was going to say something

So she snapped "I don't want to fucking hear it right now alright? I know. I fucking know!" Daring them to say a single word about it.

She didn't give them a chance to reply, didn't even spare them a second glance before she was stomping off to her bedroom , the door slamming shut loudly behind her as she threw her tired body down onto her bed . Burying her burning face into her pillow as she screamed into it, cursing out his name.

Just like with everything else . She never learned.

It was tensely silent between then for a while before Trevor finally scoffed and muttered sadly "I wish she would stop doing this to herself." Hating seeing his friend in so much pain. Hated that she couldn't just see what was right in front of her.

Every day he had watched them dance around each other , his friends hurting each other without even realising it.

For so long now , He had watched Quinn quietly watch her from afar as she laughed at another mans jokes, watched Quinn swallow painfully and force himself to look away each time she cried to them about yet another love gone bad.

He had watched Quinn silently love her for the past three years while Cherrie wondered why no one could ever do so, oblivious to the longing glances and heartache that she was causing the quiet hockey player who wasn't brave enough to say a thing.

So they both hurt , and they both wished for it to be different.

Trevor was so fucking sick of it.

He said so , looking at a frowning Quinn on the couch opposite him , still staring silently at the space where she had been stood.

"You're losing out ya know? Wasting time because Some day she won't come home crying because she's got her heart broken again." He told him straight up , fed up with the both of them acting like this.

Quinn didn't answer. He never did.

Simply rolled his eyes and crossed his arms defensively over his chest , refusing to look up from his feet. Heart sinking deeper in his stomach as he heard her cry from her room, inhaling a little shakily as he told himself that she wouldn't want him anyway . She just didn't look at him as someone that could make her happy in a way that ‘just friends’ didn’t.

Not that he blamed her. He hasn't actively tried to either. Had never done or said a single thing that could make her aware to his feelings . Had never so much as touched her softly like he wanted to , they only ever bickered and shoved at each other as friends. No matter how much he wished it was different , he didn’t have to guts to put his heart on the line like that .

So instead He held her hair when she was throwing up after drinking with her friends.

He silently passed her tissues when she cried quietly during a sad movie. He pulled her away from fights that started just because she was drunk and bored, hauling her home before she could cause anymore trouble.

He was the one that she played video games with. The one she bickered with over what they would eat each night . He was the one who drove her to her dates, the one that had her location on his phone to make sure that she was safe. The one to pick her up the following morning , same dress and walk of shame.

They never spoke about it, he just brought her back home and they ignored the quiver to her voice and the tightness of his fists around the wheel as he drove them home at sunrise .

He was never an option for her. He knew that but it didn't mean that it hurt any less to watch her get her heart broken all over again. To watch her be used and thrown away like she wasn't something special , as though her very being didn't make him feel complete . As though the simple Brush of her fingers never sparked his fuse.

But he never said a thing. He was too damn scared of what could happen if he did.

"You should try man. What have you got to lose?" Trevor said.

Hearing enough, Quinn shoved to his feet and shook his head at him in annoyance.

“Shut up." He muttered underneath his breath , not sparing him another glance before he made his way down the hallway.

Taking a deep breath as he hovered outside of her bedroom door for a moment , hesitating , before finally knocking softly and stepping inside her room.

Cherrie, now wrapped in a oversized hoodie , eyes rimmed red and scowl plastered to her pretty face. Glared at him tiredly "come to tell me 'I told you so?'" She muttered , angry with herself for letting this happen again. Ashamed that she was so weak for each and every lie they gave her.

She just wanted somebody to love her. Just her. Was that so much to ask for?

Quinn felt a pinch in his chest at how she thought he would throw her pain straight in her face , shaking his head at her. Feelings Hurt .

But he didn't let his feeling show. He never did.

Instead he simply sighed and shrugged his shoulders casually before asking "no. Wanna make some cookies? I want something sugary." Picking it out from the top of his head.

He just wanted her to stop looking so fucking sad over some asshole that didn't even deserve to breathe the same air as she did.

Cherries lips parted a little as she frowned, looking over at him in disbelief . She watched him shuffle on his feet, not meeting her eyes. Instead he fiddled with the soft dressing gown on the back of her door and she found her glare softening immediately .

Sniffling quietly , she shuffled off the bed and pulled her sweater further down her thighs . Shoving her feet into the fluffy cow face slippers , she missed the way Quinn looked down at the ridiculous googley eyed slippers with a small quirk of his lips. Fondness covering his face.

So She sighed "chocolate?" She muttered. Peering up at him through wet lashes , sniffling again as she wiped at her face tiredly. Just wanting this awful day to be over.

Quinn hummed a little as he opened her door, nudging her through it first gently first before he followed her out.

"Obviously." He replied quietly , ignoring the raised eyebrow Trevor shot them from the couch as he played video games.

He wasn't doing anything, wasn't going to try anything . No matter what Trevor thought he knew.

He just wanted her to stop fucking crying all alone In her bedroom like a saddo. That's all. and cookies always made her feel better before. He had once watched her eat an entire plate full after watching the notebook.

Cookies were always the best option to go with.

Cherrie pulled her herself up on the countertop next to him , watching quietly as he pulled out all the ingredients and got to work. She held the mixing bowl while he measured out the sugar. Silence lasting between them for a while, neither knowing just what to say.

Legs swinging , she placed her foot on his hip as he leaned over to pour the dry ingredients into the bowl. Cherrie stirring it as she neaded her toes into his hip absentmindedly .

Quinn's lips quirked at her actions but he didn't move away, he just pinched her ankle and muttered casually "the moron kind of remembered me of megamind with that big ass forhead of his."

The casualness of his comment made her snort , both amused and startled.

Then She laughed . Hollowly. Taking her foot back as she placed the bowl onto the counter and reached beside her to grab a glass of much needed wine.

Quinn watched from the corner of his eye as she poured the red wine until the glass was almost full, sighing quietly to himself as she gulped it down without any hesitation . Knowing what was going to happen. They had this routine pinned down by now.

"Only megamind turned out to be a good guy in the end. This one turned out to be a fucking liar and a cheat." She grumbled upset .

Exhaling loudly as she shook her head in disbelief at herself , wondering when her luck in love would change. Or if it ever even would.

Quinn didn't know what to say. So it went quiet between them again, Cherrie sipping on her wine while he put the cookies on the tray with a icecream scoop.

Eyes down to the tray, he muttered "but he was also blue so.."

Cherrie grumbled "maybe I like them blue. Matches my fucking mood eh?" She laughed amusedly , eyes down to her glass missing the way Quinn frowned sadly at her.

Stupidly , she added without thinking "I'm gonna have to redownload tinder again. That'll be fun."

Quinn slammed the oven door shut a little too hard, making her look over at him, startled by the sound.

She found his eyes already on her, face hard and lips pursed as he struggled to push down the rush of anger and sadness he felt . Shaking his head at her in disbelief .

"Isn't that what started this mess in the first place?" He remarked , unimpressed by how she was already planning on her next heartbreak when it had only been hours since her last one.

She was a fucking glutine for punishment. He wished it didn't hurt to know why she did it. Wish it didn't hurt so much to see her to find love in every single guy that wasn't him. In all the wrong places and wrong people.

He wasn't even an option in her mind , and it stung.

"Why not take a break from it?" He added hopefully. It would lessen both of their heartbreak, at least for a little while.

Cherrie, tipsy and pissed off with the whole male species in general. Scoffed cruelly "and be forever single like you are? I don't think so. I actually want somebody to come home to." She muttered coldly.

Quinn paused.

Gripping the towel tightly in his hand, felt the blow of her words. Then Turned them straight back at her like an arrow because arguing was familiar .

Feelings just hurt.

It was easier to be angry than to be sad.

"Better to be single then getting constantly cheated on by guys that don't even see you as a fucking human being. You're just a stepping stone for them to use until they find the next best thing." He snapped back.

Wincing as soon as the cruel words had left his mouth , knowing that he had gone too far. That she was still too vulnerable, her heart still too sore with heartache to hear it.

Wounded , she jumped down from the counter and glared over at him angrily.

Slamming her empty glass down onto counter, she felt her lip quiver , another arrow to her chest .

She looked into Quinn's hardened face, then saw his eyes shift uneasily , saw the remorse come a little too late.

"Fuck you!" She shouted at him hatefully .

Head spinning and heart hurting like a bitch because she knew that he was right. And that's what hurt the most.

“At least I can get someone! You're single because no one fucking wants you! Not even for night! At least I have someone to cry over! What do you have? Hockey! That's it!" She was hurting him and she knew it but she couldn't shut her mouth. She never could. They never could.

Months of hurting and months of men invalidating her feelings, and treating her like shit.

She was enough for men to fuck but that was it and it fucking hurt so bad. It hurt to see her friends roll their eyes when it happened to her again and again and again. Like she wanted it to happen. Like she asked to be used and thrown away like a dirty rag when they were done with her.

It hurt to see Quinn not a say a thing when it did. To have him so close , yet he didn't hold ber. Didn't wipe away her tears. He always stayed away.

He didn't look at her when she got ready for her dates, didn't say a word when she brought them back home. But she saw the judgment all over his face when they would still be there in the morning , saw the way he would scoff beneath his breath and leave as soon as he saw her in their T-shirt , not returning until they were gone again.

It was like he didn't give a single shit and it fucking stung because that was all she wanted him to do. But he never did. He treat her like a friend he barely tolerated.

He would make her food but he would never sit down to eat with her. He would hand her a drink on a night out but leave as soon as she got up to dance. He never stayed around to hear her reply, never stayed long enough for her to ask him to dance with her . Never looked at her long enough for her to catch his eye and smile his way.

And it hurt and it made her angry that it did because she didn't understand why she felt that way. Why she wanted Quinn to look at her , why she wanted him to listen to her stupid jokes and go crazy Golfing with her. Why she saw something at some stupid store and immediately wondered what he would think about it. Why she always looked for him in each crowded room even when she knew he wouldn't be there , preferring to stay home and out of the way.

She didn't get it. Because Quinn wasn't her type. She usually went for tall, tanned , six packed guys with more ego than brains . The kind that looked so good that it made her brain halt all together , the guys so hot that she forgot what assholes they were as soon as they took off their shirts and flashed their white grins at her. That was what she usually went for and it always ended up in tears, for her at least.

Quinn was ...Quinn wasn't them. At all. And maybe ..maybe that was why it stung so much to hear the words come out from his mouth.

When all she wanted to do was talk to him and tell him that she was sorry , that she didn't mean it. That any girl would be lucky to have him.

Because he was, he was a good guy. Beneath the grumbles and the mumbles, he was good.

She felt like a evil cunt stood next to him. Both of them glaring at each other, too tired and too worked up. Both should have known better than to do this then.

"Fuck you!" Quinn shouted back at her, so hurt and so fucking angry.

Trevor , quickly hauled his ass up off the couch as soon as he heard them screaming at each other nastily . Running into the kitchen , wide eyes darting between the two of them in shock.

"What the hell is going on?!" He exclaimed while pulling a seething Cherrie away from Quinn before she could hit him. Or do something just as stupid.

She choked on a sob "he's a fucking dick! He Can dish out the truth but can't handle it himself!" She snapped out .

Quinn scoffed coldly at her in return "truth? The truth is that you're so fucking desperate for attention that you get with these stupid assjole and then-" he ignored Trevor rapidly shaking his head in warning to him, Quinn only seeing red after being bathed in green jealously for so long .

“-Then You expect us to be all sympathetic when it ends in you getting fucked over again! You cause your own bullshit Cherrie !" He shouted at her furiously .

Trevor winced in shock "shit- man- come on-"

Cherrie snatched her arm from his grip before laughing humourlessly "fine! If that's how you feel then I won't fucking tell you anything anymore! I'll deal with my bullshit on my own! Since I'm such a fucking attention seeking bitch-!" She shoved past the both of them in a rage . Just wanting to go to sleep and forget that she even existed.

Quinn groaned loudly , hands rubbing over his face in frustration . Because that wasn't what he wanted to say or what he meant at all. But he had never been very good at words. Just like she wasn't with her own either.

"I didn't say that-I didn't call you a bitch-"

"You might as well have! But trust me, I don't think of you very highly right now either!" She screamed while pushing open her bedroom door "so fuck you and your cookies you asshole!" She screamed over her shoulder , then the door slammed shut behind her.

Leaving both Trevor and Quinn in a tense silence in the kitchen . Trevor looking at him in disbelief as he ran his hand through his hair stressfully.

Disappointment quickly filled his gaze as he looked at Quinn. "dude-what was that? Screaming at her isn't going to get her to-"

Quinn scoffed angrily , cutting him off. "god just shut up! I don't care alright? She's just acting like she always does. Blames everybody but herself!" He snapped. Pulling the cookies out of the oven before they burned.

The anger making him practically throw them down onto the plate, the hotness of them not even registering with him. Too busy with his head full of her tearful eyes and razor blade tongue.

Trevor rolled his eyes at them behind his back. "just like you then. You like to blame her and the guys but I don't see you stepping up and doing what you want to." He said blandly. Sick of them both .

Quinn swallowed, eyes still down to his hands putting away the cookies. "you don't know what I want to do. I don't know why I even fucking bother." He muttered upset. Grabbing a smaller plate and placing two of the bigger cookies on it.

Trevor smiled a little in amusement as he watched his actions.

"cause you love her." He simply responded.

Quinn shook his head in denial but his down turned eyes were glossy as he grabbed a glass and filled it with cold water .

“I don't. She just-" he inhaled sharply in frustration "she's so fucking stubborn. She doesn’t listen. She looks right through me-"

Trevor groaned again in annoyance. "man. She's not psychic . And shes obviously not smart with love. She's not gonna know if you don't tell her. You haven't even tried!" He wanted to shake him until he realised that she was right there.

All he had to do was reach out for her and never let her go.

Quinn scoffed lowly at him "she doesn't feel that way about me. The new guy every week tells me that. I can't tell her-" the thought made him want to be sick.

What would he even say? He always fucked it up when it came to speaking . Just now proved it to him.

Trevor just shrugged and said "so show her then. Show her what a good boyfriend you could be. Show her how a man in love is supposed to treat his girl. Show her what it feels like when you're the one." He felt like a love guru . Maybe reading all those trashy magazines in airports about love had finally payed off.

He couldn't wait to rub it in all of their friends faces that he was right , that he was their Cupid’s Angel . He just needed it to work.

Both so he could be brag to everyone about him being right ,but mostly so his friends would stop pouting and just be happy together . It seemed so simple in his mind.

Quinn paused and frowned a little at him "show her? How?" His curiosity was peaked because he didn't know how much longer he could go on seeing her with everyone but him.

It hurt too much now.

Trevor grinned smugly at him "give her the boyfriend experience. You can't tell her how you feel? Show her then . Do what you want to. Do everything that you stop yourself from doing because you're too scared she won't feel the same way. Then see how she reacts." He told him confident that his plan would work.

And Quinn, well, Quinn felt like he had everything and yet nothing left to lose.

All he wanted was Cherrie but he needed to show her just how much he cared and shouting at her wasn't the way to go about it.

The next morning Cherrie slugged herself into the kitchen to find a plate already set in front of her usual seat, brows furrowing as she watched Quinn scrape scrambled eggs , bacon and scraps onto the plate . Even greeting her with a small smile as he placed a glass of orange juice beside her plate too.

She slowly took her seat, warily glancing over to Trevor to see if he was finding this as weird as she was.

Having expected Quinn to still be pissed off after their fight last night , he usually stayed on the couch with his bowl of cereal. Refusing to talk to anyone until it was past twelve.

But it was half nine in the morning and he was cooking her breakfast and smiling at her, Cherrie felt on edge . Carefully poking at the food on her plate , eyeing it suspiciously.

"Have you put laxatives in this?" She blurted out, still half asleep and wondering if she was dreaming . Because in what world did Quinn smile and make her breakfast for no reason?

Quinn looked over at her with a offended frown, ignoring Trevor snickering at the look on her face.

When he glanced at him, he just gave him a encouraging thumbs up. The plan to treat her like he was her boyfriend, without actually being it , already set in motion.

He felt awkward as he tried to explain "you usually forgot to eat in the mornings and well...that's stupid and I don't want you to be hungry until lunch so.." he shrugged it off, making his own bowl of cereal. Taking the seat opposite her at the table instead of heading off to the couch like he usually did.

Cherrie was looking at him like he was going to shoot her right there and then.

"Quinn..." she didn't know what to say. But hunger got the better of her, so she shovelled the food into her mouth and decided to shut up and not complain. Humming happily at the taste.

"Thanks." She muttered around her fork , digging in. Missing the way his eyes lit up as he watched her enjoy the food he had made her. The first three attempts burnt and chucked at the bottom of the trash can.

But attempt four was a success.

He hid his grin behind his spoon , swallowing his mouthful as he eyed her then, in a large shirt , sleep in her eyes and hair a wild mess. Curls going off in every direction . He loved seeing her like this, to him , this was when she was most beautiful. Just being herself.

Remembering the way Trevor had told him to compliment her and tell her just what he thought , he tried to give it a go.

Tried to.

Clearing his throat a little he gathered his courage then "I like your hair." He blurted out. Grimacing a little at how strange he sounded , as though he too couldn't believe what he was saying.

Cherrie carefully eyed him over her plate , self consciously running a hand through her hair in attempts to get it to stick down.

“It's a mess. I haven't even brushed it yet." She said, wondering if he was messing with her.

Quinn let out a awkward laugh , shaking his head slowly as he motioned towards her hair like an idiot .

"no. I mean it always is-" seeing the offended look on her face he quickly added "I mean. I like it how it always is. Even when it is messy!" He wanted to die.

Trevor was face palming , eyes closing in disbelief as he watched Quinn fuck up something as simple as complimenting her . But to his defence , they had spent the last few years only ever insulting each other and every honest compliment came wrapped up in sarcasm and jokes.

So he was...new to this.

Cherrie frowned "geez thanks Quinn. I know it's a mess , you don't have to rub it in!" She snapped, still tired and still upset from last night.

She quickly finished off her breakfast and stood up, Downing the orange juice all the while glaring at him.

Quinn spluttered while trying to fix his mistake , hands waving about in front of him "I'm not! I don't mean it badly! I love your hair!" He tried to assure her.

She clearly didn’t believe him , scoffing "you've just called is messy!" She exclaimed.

He huffed in frustration wondering why he was so bad at this. "It is! But that's because you've just woken up! And it still looks good! That's all I'm trying to say." He almost shouted , annoyed that he couldn't even compliment her right.

Unfortunately Cherrie thought that he was annoyed at her .

So she glared, looked at his own messy hair and scoffed again "well. Whatever Quinn! When was the last time you even washed yours?!" She threw at him before stomping off to her room again.

Leaving Quinn to Gape at where she had just been stood in disbelief . Trevor sighing long and hard at him, patting his shoulder in pity.

"Not your best effort. Could use a little more work on that." He winced . Having forgotten that quinn lacked any charm at all. He had the grace of a drunk elephant .

It was going to be long time until their plan worked.

It got even stranger after that and Cherrie felt like she was living in a alternate world where Quinn Hughes actually put in effort to being around her, always making up some excuses to help her and just be there by her side.

Like now, after hearing her tell Trevor that she was heading out to get some drinks with her friends, Quinn hadn’t hesitated before offering to drive her there , despite the fact that he has been in the middle of playing video games with his own friends.

He had hauled his ass off the couch, grabbed his car Keys and practically ran to catch up with her speedy steps.

Eyeing him warily as he Unlocked his car , then held open her door and stepped back, waving his hand at her to get inside.

"You don't have to . I could have gotten the bus." She muttered utterly confused to why he was suddenly offering his services like this.

He didn't like driving anyone anywhere and she knew it. That's why she had never asked for a ride.

Quinn got into the drivers seat, started the car before simply shrugging his shoulders casually as though his cheeks weren’t a bright pink.

"it's not big deal. I wasn't doing anything anyways ." He lied.

Cherrie played with the ends of her hair , side eyeing him as she watched him place his hand at the back of her head rest , looking between their seats as he backed out of the car park.

Making her Inhale a little too sharply as she eyed his tense bicep and focused face, sinking further down on her seat. Wondering how he could look so good in a matching sweatshirt and sweatpants , scruff and all.

She wondered if she was having some sort of crisis because now all she could think about was how hot Quinn really was. A thought that she had desperately tried to never remind herself of.

But it was hard to do when he was suddenly being so nice to her , cooking her food and driving her places just because he wanted to.

She felt her heart soften. And hated it. Because what the actual fuck?

"You were playing games with your friends ." She tried to argue . Feeling a little bad that he had jumped up after her, not even giving any excuses to them. Something he would no doubt be getting rinsed about later.

Quinn looked over at her briefly , admiring the glitter around her eyes , before looking back at the road with a heavy exhale .

“Yeah well. That can wait. I like your dress." He suddenly told her. Changing the subject abruptly.

She glanced down at her little black dress and smiled a little , feeling her cheeks flush . Not used to Quinn complimenting her like this.

It felt nice. The giddy feeling in her stomach Letting know that she wasn't as immune to Quinn as she likes to make herself believe.

"Thanks. I'm er-I'll try to be quieter coming in tonight. I probably won't get back till after midnight." She told him quietly.

Recalling how pissed off he had been the last time that she had woken him up after one of her nights out , drunkenly crashing into the coat stand and managing to knock everything over in the process.

This time, Quinn just shook his head with a soft hum.

Hesitating for a moment before mumbling "I can pick you up too. I don't want you taking the bus home while drunk." As he pulled up outside the bar that she always went to with her friends.

Warily eyeing a group of young guys laughing outside of it, hoping that none of them caught her eye. His heart couldn’t take much more.

Unbuckling herself , she shook her head quickly "oh no. I'll just get an Uber-"

Rolling his eyes at her stubbornness to accept his help , he sighed loudly . Looking at her with a raised brow "Cherrie. Please just let me pick you up? I won't sleep knowing you’re out anyways." He said Honestly .

He never did. His body only ever relaxed when he knew she was safe and at home with him.

Surprised , she slowly nodded her head in acceptance . Smiling a little unsurely at him "okay. If you're sure.."

He smiled back at her gently , exhaling a light laugh at how out of place she looked then. Looking at him like she had never even met him before. He winced to himself and wondered guilty just how much of a jackass he had accidentally been to her lately out of his own jealousy. Realising that in an effort to not let her know just what she meant to him, he had pushed her away. Something he had never wanted to do.

But he was trying now. This was him trying. He was going to make up for it all. He swore.

"I am. Text me when you're ready to come home alright?" He said lowly . Reaching over to fix the strap of her dress back into place gently before moving back again before she could even blink .

Cherrie exhaled shakily , nodded her head and pulled open the door. Slowly getting out "alright." She agreed . Still in shock by how nice he was being towards her now.

All she could think was as she walked to the bar door, glancing ober her shoulder to see Quinn still waiting to see her though the door, only pulling off when she was safe inside. Was.

She could get used to this.

It was nearly two in the morning by the time he picked her back up from the bar, chuckling a little to himself at how drunk she was . Practically throwing herself into her seat, heels quickly disregarded as she grinned over at him happily.

Quinn laughing quietly as she suddenly reached over to squeeze his cheeks between her hand, squishing his lips together as she giggled at him. Pinching his pink cheeks gently .

“I was thinking about you." She blurted out , leaning forward to slap a kiss to the end of his nose before pulling away.

Casually leaning back into her seat like she hadn't just flipped his heart around, Quinn flushing red as he buckled her in. Laughing a little shyly , skin tingly from her fingertips. Shocked by the sudden touch.

"Yeah?" He turned on the car , then reached back with one hand to hand her his sweatshirt, a bottle of water and then a McDonald box. Grinning at the look on her pretty face.

Cherrie gasped loudly , beaming at him as she threw on his sweatshirt without a single complaint. Digging straight into the fries , looking over at him with wide eyes. Glossy and dazed. Like he was her saviour.

"Dude..." she breathed out in amazement "I can't believe you got me McDonalds. That's so nice." She spoke around a mouthful of fries. Never taking her eyes off him.

“And you look so pretty. Why?" She spoke her mind. Drunk and not having a filter at all.

Quinn laughed bashfully , stomach fluttering from her sweet words. He scratched at his jaw awkwardly "I knew you'd be hungry. And I don't.. look pretty." He mumbled shyly .

Heart pounding in his chest as he briefly glanced over at her at the stop light, taken by the sight of her drunk, in his sweatshirt and smiling at him like he had made her whole night.

She had made his. He smiled to himself , chewing on the inside of his cheek to stop himself from giggling like a lovesick idiot at how soft she made him feel.

She giggled and offered him a fry, holding it in front of his mouth as he quickly leaned forward and took it from her fingers with his teeth. Muttering a small thanks as he did so.

"You do." She insisted , leaning over to feed him another one.

Tapping her finger up against his pouty lip after she did , eyes locked on his mouth as he swallowed. Nervously side eyeing her , his cheeks a pretty red.

"Do you remember what you told me the first time that frat bro broke my heart?" She suddenly asked him, finally pulling her hand away.

Crossing her legs beneath her, Quinn reached over and gently tugged down her dress as soon as he caught sight of a peek of lace. Letting out a light laugh as he tapped her thigh for a moment, squinting his eyes as he thought that far back.

"That was three years ago Cherrie. You've had like a gazillion other douchbag boyfriends since then." He commented teasingly , fingers clenching around the wheel as he forced himself to keep his hands to himself .

No matter how adorable he y she looked in his sweatshirt , dress peeking out the bottom, hair a mess and mascara smudged beneath her eyes as she gobbled down her burger like a little gremlin.

Mouth full of burger , she grumbled "not that many." Swallowing her bite, she looked at the raised judgmental brow her gave her and sighed loudly "fine that many. But the first time I cried in front of you.."

Quinn groaned at the bittersweet memory , heart clenching as he remembered the way her big eyes had filled with tears as she sobbed into his chest after finding her boyfriend fucking another girl at a party .

Quinn remembered her crying , reminded talking her to sleep. He also remembered hauling his ass over to the party to beat the guys face in. His knuckles had aches for a week after that.

Not that she knew about it. That was something he swore his brother and friends to keep hush about .

"I told you that he wasn't worth your tears and that you deserved someone that made you happy." He remembered then, softly repeating the words that still stood true now.

Cherrie hummed quietly .

Nodding her head as she glanced over at him, yawning as she finished her burger. Gaze lingering on the healing scab on his nose from his last injury , she sighed quietly.

"This has made me happy." She told him softly , tugging her hands into the sleeve of his sweatshirt , watching the colour bloom across his face at her words.

He chuckled a little , heart beating a little faster as he spared her a quick glance. "Yeah? Which part? McDonald's or the sweatshirt that I'm never getting back now?" He teased lightly. Pride filling him that he had put that smile on her face.

Just Him. Nobody else. It felt nice.

Cherrie just shrugged lightly as they pulled back up to their apartment block "all of it. Thanks Q."

Not even ten minutes later , a drunk and confused Cherrie was bursting into Trevors bedroom , startling him awake with a scared gasp. Eyes going wide as he gaped up at her, watching her pace in front of his bed with a strange look on her face.

"What the fuck? Are you on drugs?!" He exclaimed quietly , mindful of the fact that it was three o'clock in the fucking morning .

He sent her a tired glare. Hand over his racing heart as he cursed her out.

She just sighed dramatically and placed her hands on her flaming cheeks , concerned with how she suddenly felt .

“Somethings wrong." She said worriedly "Quinn is being nice to me all the time. Why is he being so nice?" She demanded to know.

Trevor just snorted a little in amusement , before yawning.

“He's always been a little extra nice to you." He replied. Cause it was true.

Cherrie wasn't having it. Shaking her head with a deep frown on her face "not like this!" She denied quickly .

"he's-hes like doing everything for me and-he keeps making me breakfast and driving me everywhere. And he keeps smiling at me and complimenting me and-"

Trevor cut her off with a small smirk , smugness filling him as he realised that his plan was actually working. She was noticing Quinn's efforts.

Plan 'boyfriend' was a total success.

He knew it. Call him love guru now.

"Why do you think he is?" He asked her , trying to work reverse psychology on her. But he forgot who he was dealing with here.

Haunted by a long list of asshole ex boyfriends , she grimaced worriedly "is he mad at me or something?" She wondered out loud "like is he trying to lure me into a false sense of security before he gets his revenge?"

Trevor was horrified, gaping up at his poor friend in disbelief. Genuinely concerned .

“Jesus Cherrie! You need to stop dating these psychos! Holy shit!" He exclaimed shocked , rubbing at his face stressfully.

“So what if he's being nice? You like it right?" He said.

Cherrie slowly nodded her head, looking off to the side as a grin slowly pulled at her lips without her even realising it.

"yeah I mean-" she trailed off with a little sigh, picturing the way he had whispered goodnight to her as he dropped her off to her room. Kissing her cheek and promising to get her a really greasy breakfast for her hangover in the morning.

What a turn on.

"He's got a nice smile hasn't he?" She mumbled , fiddling with the ends of her hair as she pictured it. Crooked and uneven .

So cute. She sighed dreamily without even realising it.

Trevor smirked to himself and tried not to fist bump the air in front of him. Fighting back a smug giggle.

I'm a fucking Cupid’s angel . He thought proudly . Quinn better make me best man at their wedding . Cause otherwise he would still be pining from afar while she got her heartbroken every other month.

It became a pattern after that. Cherrie arriving home after work to find a new vase of flowers on her bedside table every Friday , alongside some candy or some of her favourite food whenever he knew she needed the extra kick me up.

She started going to more of his games, wearing his jersey and cheering him on. Waiting for him by his car, getting dinner together each time they won. Or just lazying out on the couch playing some rather violent video games if they didn't. But Quinn still wanted to be by her side.

He texted her in the mornings. He checked in on her during the day, making sure that she was okay. Sending her stupid jokes and memes that he knew she would like, sending her cat videos that he found (spent hours collecting for times like these) . FaceTiming her when he was at away games and missing her. Which was always.

Then he started travelling home with her, then met her father and started going golfing with him while her mother fussed over him and kept giving her daughter knowing looks .

Cherrie just looking amusedly confused as she watched him easily fit into her crazy family , so much so that he went out to guys night with her brothers who had hated every other guy that she had brought home.

But they loved Quinn. They all did and she was filled with a strange , overwhelming feeling in her chest when she came into the front room one morning to see Quinn laughing over the phone with her dad, both of them talking shit about some Golfing enemies they had thrashed that weekend .

Her father had once hit an ex boyfriend of hers with a golf club. Ran over another one with the wheel of a golf buggy. So this was rather shocking sight for her to see him being so friendly with Quinn.

But it was different this time she guessed. Because Quinn wasn't her boyfriend. But sometimes it felt like he was. And recognising the butterflies making house in her stomach , she recognised the racing of her heart whenever he nudged her shoulder and whispered some lame joke in her ear just to see her smile.

She finally saw the signs.

She noticed the way Quinn always looked for her first in every room, the way he would keep looking over at her when they held party's to make sure that she was still okay.

She noticed the way he smiled when she did, the way he went out of his way to be near her. Even coming along to the dentist with her, claiming that he was 'bored'. But she knew that he just wanted to take care of her .

It was the way he automatically reached for her hand when they went to cross a road , the way he refused to let anyone else buy her drinks at the bar. guarding her drink with his life when she went to dance or to the toilet. Glaring down any guy that even so much as looked at it or her wrongly.

She saw it now and she felt it right through. And she felt so fucking stupid that it had taken her this long to see what was right in front of her the whole damn time.

So when they sat in their favourite bar, watching a game on the tv while they waited for their friends to arrive .

And then when a cute guy, usually her type, walked over and asked her if she wanted to join him and if he could buy her a drink or get her number . For the first time in her life she turned the guy down politely , and didn't feel any regret.

Glancing over at Quinn to see his eyes down to the wooden bar top, his brows furrowed as he fiddled with the label on his beer , no longer focused on her. No longer smiling.

She walked away from the guy and sat down beside him again, nudging Quinn arm gently when he still didn't look up.

“You okay?" She asked him softly , concerned by the sudden change in his demeanour .

Quinn just mumbled something she couldn't hear, making her frown. "Huh?" She leant her head down , trying to catch his gaze.

He gave her it for a split second , catching her eye before looking away just as quick.

“I'm fine." He mumbled , "I just -you haven't been on a date in a while. I think this might have been the longest you've been single." He muttered .

Refusing to look at her. Heart squeezing in his chest as he glanced across the bar to see the guy she had been talking to occasionally glancing over at her, exactly the type of guy she went for.

Everything he wasn't.

Cherrie laughed a little, swallowing thickly as she realised that he was right . Knowing exactly why she hadn't even thought of moving on to another guy too.

"yeah. I mean-" she inhaled trying to find the right words to say and failing "I don't want to go through any of that shit again anyway. No more wasting time with the wrong guy." She looked at him , hoping he'd understand.

Quinn slowly turned his hand , brows furrowing in confusion .

“You didn't-" he glanced back over at the guy before looking back at her "you didn't give him your number?" He breathed out, shoulders tense with fear.

Cherrie shook her head and watched the way he exhaled , his shoulders relaxing again. Finally looking her in the eye, relief flowing from his body.

He wasn't exactly subtle. She wondered how she had missed the signs for so long.

But she had never been very smart when it came to love. A little stupid, a little naive. But she got it now.

And hopefully it wasn't too late.

"I didn't." She said and watched him smile a little to himself "no more tears for you to wipe away ." She joked lamely .

Quinn just laughed in relief "yeah. Yeah. I never did like to see you cry."

And that was how Cherrie found herself , the following night , standing in front of Quinn's room with flowers in her hand , knocking on his door gently . Taking in a deep breath to gather her courage , telling herself that she could do this.

When Quinn opened his door, he froze.

Eyes darting down to the flowers in her hand , then back up to her, taking in her pretty dress and perfect makeup. Her red lips and hopeful eyes.

He didn't dare to breath , hope was a dangerous thing after all.

"What-" he hesitated for a moment too long , shocked at the sight in front of him. He swallowed thickly .

"are you going on a date?" He fucking hoped not. He would cry.

If she had come to his door to show off her flowers and let him see how beautiful she looked for another man, Quinn didn't think his heart could take it. Not anymore.

Cherrie gently shook her head , laughing a little

Nervously as she shuffled awkwardly on feet. "

“Can I come in?" She asked him quietly , knowing for a fact that Trevor was somewhere listening in. He had been smirking at her since the moment she came home with flowers and found her nervously mutttering to herself around the apartment.

He knew. She knew. Quinn was the only one that didn't. But he was about to.

He pulled open his door and let her in, gently closing it behind her as he warily watched her stand in front of his bed , his eyes widening in disbelief when she suddenly thrust out the flowers to him, laughing nervously. Flushed.

"There for you." She told him quietly , watching him carefully take the flowers from her hands.

Looking down at them with parted lips, his breath hitching as he dared to peer back over at her. Chewing on his bottom lip. Heart racing in his chest.

"Cherrie-is this-" he looked at her hopefully "what's going on?" He wanted to know. Didn't want to get his hopes up. But he didn't have to worry about his heart breaking because she was about to make it all better .

Finally.

Taking a deep breath , she spoke calmly "Quinn?"

He exhaled just as nervously , gently setting aside the flowers on his bed as he slowly moved closer to her. "Yeah?"

"Can I date you?" She bluntly asked him. Deciding not to beat around the bush. She just wanted him

Now. Sick of wasting so much time. Three, nearly four fucking years of hurt, of pining , of disappointment and pain. And it had finally come down to this.

And all Cherrie could realise then was as she looked a blushing , wide eyed Quinn hesitantly standing in front of , sweet and kind and so fucking pretty , was that it should have been him all along.

It had been really . She was just so fucking stupid for chasing fake love in strangers when she had the real thing right here in front of her all along.

Quinn felt his ears ring , heartbeat in his mouth as he gaped at her in disbelief .

“What?" He choked out a nervous laugh. Swallowing thickly . "are you serious or are you fucking with me?" He Honeslty felt a little like he could faint then. Breaking out in a anxious sweat as he gaped down at her.

Cherrie just giggled and placed her hand on his bicep , squeezing gently as she moved closer to him, peering up at him through her lashes deliberately .

"I'm not fucking with you, I want to fuck you but thats different." She slyly muttered. Taking the chance now that she finally knew she had it.

Quinn gently placed his hands on her hips , inhaling deeply through his nose as he tried to push away his shock to speak clearly .

Cheeks on fire as he mumbled "you can. Do that." Hardly able to meet her eye. Feeling like he was dreaming.

Cherrie beamed up at him , cupping his cheeks in her hands firmly . Giving them a little loving squeeze as she tried not to squeal in excitement .

"you'll be my boyfriend ? Seriously?" She double checked .

Biting down on her bottom lip to try and contain her happiness. But it shone through. It was unstoppable . Just like his love for her.

Quinn laughed sheepishly , gently nudging her nose with his own as he admitted to her shyly "I've er-kind of been acting like your boyfriend all along Cherrie. I was trying to get you to notice.. giving you the boyfriend experience I guess..”

Cherrie eyes widened , both embarrassed that she was so fucking oblivious and just overwhelmed with love that she felt for him.

Because he had never given up on her. Not once.

He had waited. And she had never felt happier than she did in that moment . And she knew that this was it.

So she kissed him.

Hands cupping his jaw as she tugged him close , free hand tangling in his hair as she gently tugged at the strands until he was moaning lowly against her mouth. Kissing her back just as firmly , just as relieved as he tasted the taste of her mouth on his tongue .

Titling his head to deepen the kiss, his nose nudging against her own, he laughed breathlessly against her mouth.

Pulling away just enough to let her know "I love you." Before Kissing the sides of her mouth too, then her chin. And then all across her beautiful face , grinning widely against her cheekbone as she giggled and embraced him, arms sliding sound his neck to hold him there.

"Fuck me. I love you." She said it like it was something she had always said. And maybe it should have been. Because Quinn had always been right there. Waiting for her to notice him.

And she did now. She noticed the way his cheeks flushed red as he traced soft circles into her cheekbone with his thumbs , gazing down at her like she was his god.

She noticed the way his kiss lingered on her lips , the way he sighed so softly and sagged against her in relief , letting her hold him. Trusting her with himself . Letting her pull him close and whisper how much she needed him, how she was never going to look away from him ever again.

And Quinn. Wrapped up in her love , lips swollen from her kisses. Realised that for the first time ever , Trevor was actually right.

His plan had worked.

He got the girl.

God. He thought with a dazed grin against her neck as she pulled him down to the bed , losing his breath as he looked down at her beneath him. Still in disbelief that this was real. That this was actually happening.

Trevor was never going to let this go. He was going to be even more insufferable than he already was when he found out .

But it was totally worth it, he thought with a dazed grin as she roughly tugged his shirt off , tearing it off impatiently when it didn’t come off quick enough. kissing every inch of his skin that she could reach with her mouth , sucking and biting her name into his skin until he was a panting mess beneath her .

Until they are both naked and both together , till she was taking control and pinning his hands above his head as she slipped her tongue into his mouth confidently . Riding him like she was his cowboy , his head thrown back in bliss as he moaned so loudly , so shamelessly as she fucked him like she was in love. Like she knew she had all of him. Like she knew that this was the rest of their lives.

And between the pants, the moans and the shrill screams of pleasure. Quinn just knew that there would be no keeping their love a secret. Because Trevor and their poor neighbours definitely heard him scream her name as she made him see heaven.

It was never subtle at all. Never had been and never would be. But he didn’t have it in him to care at all because he had wanted this for so long .

All it took was for him to give her a bit of the boyfriend experience for her to realise that he was the one. That he had been there waiting for her all along.

And if this , he is he’s breathlessly up at the ceiling in a daze as she buried her face into his neck with a low moan, biting underneath his jaw until he was groaning her neck , his cock buried deep inside her as she rocked his world. If this was the just the beginning of her girlfriend experience, then he couldn’t wait for the rest of his life with her. Excitement , desire and love filling him , mind , body and pure fucking soul.

And It only took forever. But That wasn't long at all.

#quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes oneshot #quinn hughes imagine #nhl oneshot #nhl imagine #nhl fic #ice hockey oneshot #ice hockey imagine #hockey oneshot #hockey fic

170 notes · View notes

ssturniolo · 1 year ago

Note

i play guitar so maybe like, showing matt kr chris some songs

Guitar

𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤 - Chris x fem!reader

𝔰𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶 - y/n shows Chris what she’s learned, realizing he might need this more than she thinks.

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰 - just some kissing

I’m sitting on Chris’s bed, guitar in hand, waiting for him to get home from a meeting. I can’t wait to show him the new chords I learned and possibly play him a song if he’s in the mood.

Hearing the front door open, I race down the stairs to greet him at the door.

Nick walks in greeting me with a smile that slowly fades as he glances back out the door. “Chris and Matt are still in the car, neither of them are in a good mood so id um, suggest not talking to them right now.”

I sigh, my smile dropping. Is been like this for weeks now. The boys getting back from a meeting, and immediately locking themselves in their rooms, not wanting to be bothered. I walk back up the stairs and sit on the couch hoping one of the boys will join me, and surprise-surprise, they don’t.

Matt and Chris walk up the stairs, both completely ignoring me and I can’t help but feel hurt. I watch the hours tik by, not paying attention to the show playing in the background. Sighing, I stand up knowing that I’ll have to face Chris to grab my things.

I softly knock on his door, getting no response. I push it open assuming he’s asleep, only to find him at his desk with his head in his hands.

He looks up, giving me a sad smile. “Long day?” I ask quietly, getting a nod in response.

Pulling him up, I wrap my arms around him, enclosing him into a hug. His body relaxes into mine as he rubs the pads if his index fingers along my lower back, creating different patterns.

I press a kiss to his cheek before taking his hand and leading him to the bed. “I have something that might cheer you up” I say smiling at him.

“And what’s that?” He questions looking intrigued. He watches as I pull out my guitar and make sure it’s still tuned correctly.

“Ready?” I ask looking directly into his beautiful blue eyes.

“Always” he responds a smile spreading across his face. He watches in awe as I play the chords that I’ve been struggling with for weeks now, and wraps me in a bear hug when I finish.

“That was so amazing y/n, playing guitar is one of the coolest things ever and I’m so proud of you for doing it” he says planting a soft kiss on my lips.

Setting my guitar down, I turn toward him grinning. “Feeling better?”

He pulls me close and lays down wrapped up in my arms. “I felt better the moment you walked in love” he kisses me on the forehead before tucking his head into the crook of my neck, and falling asleep holding me close.

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

I’m not sure how I feel about this one but I hope you like it! I honestly know nothing about guitar playing so if I wrote anything that doesn’t make sense please correct me! I really love writing on here I’d love some more requests :)

XOXO - Zoe

#chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets #imagine #fypage #fypppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppp

228 notes · View notes

xocasper · 2 years ago

Note

I wanna read Ray toro hurting me (sexually) and enjoying it (sexually) cuz of his enormous cock (sexually)

this ask is so funny so i'm posting the excerpt under it. here is ray toro x fem reader sadomasochism/size kink/literally fucks you dumb AND numb but he's really nice about it/dacryphilia/straight up porn by yours truly. enjoy xoxo

his cock is buried inside of you, stretching you open more than his fingers ever could. it’s a snug fit but you take him so well, biting your lip to distract yourself from the burn. it hurts in the best way possible, and your shallow breathing fills the silence as he pushes deeper.

“take all of it for me,” he says, voice barely above a whisper.

you feel like he's going to split you open, letting out a soft sob and squeezing your eyes shut, trying to prevent them from watering. he notices, caressing your cheek and shushing you softly. he knows you can take it. he’s never bottomed out, knowing how sensitive you are, but you swore that you could handle it. you want to behave for him, letting him stuff you full of his cock like a good girl should. he wouldn’t push you if didn’t want this, and he's watching you carefully to make sure he still has your consent.

“look at you, my pretty girl,” he coos, watching his cock disappear inside of you, nearly every inch enveloped in warmth. “you’re doing so well.”

another cry spills out, muffled as you clasp your hand over your mouth, clenching hard around him. he moans and your thighs threaten to close, but his hands swiftly move to pry them open. he’s so close, giving a sudden push and sinking in completely. tears well in your eyes and you quickly blink them away, but he’s already seen them. it’s totally sadistic, but it turns him on more to see you like that. you’re crying over his cock, quiet sobs escaping you because he's too big for his sweet girl. but you’re so obedient, suffering through the unbearable stretch and digging your nails into his biceps, taking a shaky breath before telling him to continue.

“please,” you beg, voice teetering on the edge of breakage. “please move.”

you sound vastly uncertain, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t worried. “are you sure?”

his voice is so gentle, and he’s caressing your thighs as if he’ll shatter you. his delicacy has your heart pounding, and you answer with as much confidence as you can. “yes, please.”

god, you’re so fucking good to him. slowly, he pulls his hips back, listening to you gasp as your muscles contract again. just as soon though, he’s pushing back in, and the burn and hot tears return. yet, everything’s alright—you’re into the pain as much as he is, moaning at the stretch and soaking his cock.

“you’re doing so well,” he murmurs, lazily rolling his hips against yours. “gonna let me come inside you, baby? fill this pretty pussy up?”

you nod, whining as he nestles himself inside of you. in almost every way, you’re his, fueling his lust even further. it’s insatiable, and ray’s barely holding himself back as his hips rock against yours. he loses focus for a moment and tunes into his desires, giving a particularly harsh thrust, only for his eyes to shoot open and down to you. his first thought is to coddle you and apologize, but your lips are parted and you’re squeezing the life out of his arms. you’re enjoying it, and he can’t help but pause to admire you, briefly falling out of rhythm.

you’re at war with yourself. it hurts, but he's holding you close and gazing down at you like you hung the fucking moon. the pain makes your head spin, twisting into a sick sort of pleasure, and you're moaning at the warmth it brings. he's filling the air with the same sounds, and it makes everything remarkably easier. it's all in your head, and with a bit of effort, you can focus on ray. how he's feeling, how perfect he thinks you are for letting him use you. it's arousing, and you grip his arms a little tighter at his imaginary praise.

it’s not long before you're numb to the pain, your head too cloudy to feel anything, really. ray's pulling you a little closer as his pace picks up, his touch as loving as ever. your eyes flutter open to see his staring back, swimming with a foreign hunger. he’s always so gentle—he takes care of you, always meeting your needs and making sure that you’re okay. but now? you don’t really want to be okay. you want to see him basking in euphoria and moaning as he comes inside you, blissed-out after using you to fulfill his own fantasies.

“more,” is all you can manage, the word coming out as a whimper.

it’s a simple request, but it still surprises him. ray would never deny you anything, although he still glances down to make sure you’re certain. “really?” he breathes, panting as he shines with sweat.

he sounds hopeful, so you nod, moaning as he thrusts a bit harder. “mhm, god, please,” you beg, the words running together until you can barely understand yourself.

his name is on your tongue and it’s spoken like a prayer, desperate and pleading for him to ruin you. there's a building pressure, and everything starts to feel tense. he’s growing rougher, head falling forward as he moans without restraint, gripping your thighs and pounding into you until it hurts. even as the tears begin to fall, you can’t tell him to stop. you can’t take this from him, so you slur obscenities and cling to him like your life depends on it. and it’s worth it, because he looks so pretty behind the mess of curls, pupils blown and cheeks flushed. you’re the one who did this to him, wrecking him the same way he’s wrecking you.

it all starts to fade, becoming too much, too quick, and the pressure lifts. you’re oblivious to tears that roll down your cheeks and how you’re so much louder than he is. you’re just staring up at him with wide, watery eyes that beg him to come. warmth ripples through you but you hardly notice, too delirious and drunk on his touch to revel in it. no, you’re focused on him.

“look at you,” he muses again, so in awe at the sight before him.

it’s like he can’t believe that this is real. you’re a dream, his fairytale girl. you're so perfect and kind, giving everything you have to him, even if it hurts. he’s more aware of your orgasm than you are, feeling you tighten around him in repetition until his body’s doing the same. he’s panting and his hips are stuttering, thighs tensing up and he thrusts one final time. his word is good, and you watch as he comes inside you, focus melting into bliss as his breathing evens out. you’re still gazing up at him and he’s half convinced that he broke you. he carefully pulls out and memorizes the scene—your lax figure and stained cheeks, all proof of your perfection.

it’s quiet, save for his murmured praise. he kisses your temple, soft and easy, cradling you like a china doll. it’s like you’ve forgotten how to move, still so numb, but you take a rattled breath and form a few words.

“did i do good?”

he’s surprised that you have to ask, but he wastes no time reassuring you. “you did wonderful.”

you sniffle and roll onto your side, ignoring the stickiness that coats your thighs. everything else seems trivial—all you need is ray, his warmth and comfort, making sure you’re alright before he leaves to clean up. and he does, letting you nuzzle into his chest and play with his hair. his arms wrap around your waist and he pulls you closer, resting his head on top of yours until you’re drowsy and okay. that’s all that matters to him.

your eyes fall shut, and there’s a light dip in the mattress when he gets up, leaving a cold emptiness in his wake. it’s not long until he returns though, placing water on the nightstand and wiping the mess away. you don’t register much more than that, just his embrace and a hint of pride as the same thought orbits your head.

you did good.

#answered asks #casper after dark #ray toro x reader #ray toro smut #not adding my taglist because it's literally an excerpt and not going on my masterlist or anything #gender is crazy but i would let ray toro feminize me as much as he wants

236 notes · View notes

whatthefishh · 2 years ago

Note

I'm having a rough night. Nothing serious just a long day.

Tell me a secret about Marc. I know you have one. Give me a secret thot.

Hi babe I’m so sorry you’re having a tough night 🤍🤍 take a deep breath and I hope you enjoy this random tidbit of Marc thots

Kudos to @kittyofalltrades and @dameronscopilot for the brief discussion we had on this Heheheh

Secret Thot #1: he likes praise. Not a surprise, I know. He likes knowing how good he’s being for you and he likes telling you, too. He doesn’t like to talk about his feelings a lot, it just gets lost in translation and he has a hard time telling you how much he loves you. Except when he’s between your legs, then he’s all mouth and says the filthiest, most depraved shit. You have to shut your eyes because looking at him when he comments on how wet you are while putting the fingers that were just inside you in his mouth is too much.

Secret Thot #2: he may have a daddy kink. This isn’t something that comes out all the time, and you don’t pull out the big guns until you’re ready and able to take the brutal dicking down he will inevitably dish out once you say it. Just know this - he won’t go easy on you.

Which leads me to my next Thot:

#3: overstimulation. He loves (LOVES) to push you to your limits, pulling orgasm after orgasm from you, playing your body like a fine tuned instrument with manic glee as you lose yourself to him, completely turning over control as he brings you over the edge again, and again, and again. Almost painfully so. You sometimes have to beg for him to stop (he does immediately, kissing you, bringing you back down with soft and gentle touches).

Secret Thot #4: Marc loves to mark you :) he likes to leave behind evidence of your time together, of his love for you, of his presence in your life, of how much you belong to him, and he to you. He loves to see the physical proof of it days later, he loves to see it peeking out of your regular day clothes, loves the idea of someone else seeing them and knowing you’re taken, knowing your his. Marc watches with glee as you have to pull out your concealer just to cover up a particularly dark, blossoming bruise on your neck, not hidden in the slightest by your sweater. He just leans against the doorway of the bathroom as you tilt your head in the mirror this way and that, trying to see if it’s still visible (it is, you don’t have theatre makeup for God’s sake).

Okay that’s all for now Ty for coming to my slutty blurb of the night love you xoxo

#inbox 💌#Marc Spector smut #melody tag #moonknight smut #marc spector x reader

114 notes · View notes

mackenzielovee · 3 years ago

Text

ambivalence part two: swim - rafe cameron

a/n: anxiety = through the roof. im already almost finished with part 3 and i LOVE it so stay tuned! i hope you love this chapter! leave me a comment and lmk xoxo

Summary: Rafe tries his best to give you what you want, but you don't let him.

Warnings: swearing

Word Count: 5.1k

series masterlist

my writing

"Top, can I please just stay in the car?"

You unbuckle your seatbelt, already knowing the answer. Topper shakes his head, glaring at you like he is annoyed you hadn't listened the first time he explained why you have to go into the Club with him to pick up his paycheck.

"It is prime lunch time right now, Y/N. If Marco sees me, he'll practically force me into an apron and tell me to get to work. You're my plausible deniability."

"Plausible deniability?" you question as the two of you climb out of his Jeep, "What, did you commit a crime? It's not that serious."

"Oh, trust me, it is. Sorry we can't all set up direct deposit the second we get hired," he mutters, waving you forward with him.

You shove your hands into your jacket pockets and groan, following Topper toward the Club. It's a little windy today, so you figure Topper's probably right about the lunch rush. All of that bad golfers came in for a bite to eat so as not to embarrass themselves any further.

"You act like direct deposit is a chore," you continue on, watching Topper shake his head, "It literally could not be easier."

"Yeah, yeah. We don't all have mountains of time on our hands, Little Miss Perfect."

You sneer at the nickname, punching him in the shoulder as payback. He'd called you that once and got such a reaction out of you that he will pull it out every once in a while just to make sure you still hate it.

Topper pulls the door of the Club open and allows you to walk in first, gently setting a hand on your hips when you stop short in the entrance. He's barely able to get inside.

"Busy," you mumble to him, pointing to the groups of men gathered around the bar and flooding the outside deck.

Your eyes float around the room, eyeing all of the old men in polos, when you find Rafe in that crowd. Also in a polo, his hair is messy from the wind outside. He hasn't bothered to fix it, but you can tell by the amount of empty glasses in front of him that he's been here a while. You watch as he picks up his filled glass and brings it to his lips, eyes flickering up and meeting yours instantly, almost like he was able to feel you looking at him.

You watch his eyes flicker down to Topper's hand still on your hips, and feel frozen when you sense Topper lean his head down to whisper in your ear.

"Come on."

He removes his hand from your hips and brings it up to the small of your back as he tries to lead you forward. You follow Topper's guidance and walk toward the swinging door labeled 'Employees Only'. Once you two are through the door, Topper drops his hand from you completely.

Topper glances around for your boss, and when he doesn't see him, he sighs in relief. He leads you into the office, letting you wait outside the door while he makes small talk with the assistant manager. The second he gets his hands on his check, he's out the door. He grabs ahold of your elbow and leads you out, not wanting to waste any time being seen.

"You're being a little dramatic, you know," you inform him.

He pushes open the swinging door once more, glancing around for Marco.

"Shut it. If you'd ever picked up a check on a busy day, you'd understand, too."

You just shrug, not totally convinced. Topper sees Rafe at the bar and breaks for him without even mentioning it to you. You throw your head back and follow him over, knowing you can't get into Topper's Jeep without the keys. Otherwise, you'd just go wait for him in the car.

"Yo, dude," Topper greets him the second he's within speaking distance.

"What up, man?" Rafe questions, holding his hand out for Topper to shake.

"Ah, you know," Topper shrugs, "Y/N and I are happy to be off today, holy shit."

Rafe snickers, taking another sip of his drink. You're tucked behind Topper, but you still have a view of Rafe. He hasn't so much as glanced your way.

"Yeah, I can imagine."

"Is this what you're doing today?" Topper asks him, making you wince at the judgment in his voice.

"Well, I don't have a job, Top," Rafe turns in his chair, looking up at his friend. You stare at him, and he feels it, but he doesn't look at you.

"What?"

"Ward gave me the axe," Rafe explains.

Your eyes go wide, thinking about how Rafe had told you before he told Topper. You furrow your eyebrows as you stare at him, hoping to catch his glance. You want to know why he told you that, why he trusted you.

"Dude, I'm so sorry. If you need anything-"

"I'm good," Rafe stops him, moving forward in his seat once again.

Topper sets a hand on Rafe's back, patting him as if to comfort him. Rafe doesn't react or respond, just takes another sip of his drink.

"If you need a ride later, just give me a call. Y/N and I would be happy to come get you."

Your eyes flicker over to Topper, but he's too focused on his friend to be concerned. You look back over to Rafe when he laughs audibly.

"I'm sure she'd be thrilled to do that."

Topper elbows you in the stomach, trying to silently tell you to speak up. You cough awkwardly, then sigh, then elbow Topper back. Rafe's looking forward now, so you can only see his side profile. He's clenching his jaw, which draws your attention for longer than it should.

"It's fine," you speak up, your voice weak, "If you need a ride, we'll get you."

You watch as his jaw unclenches at your words, and his eyes flicker down to the glass he had set down on the bar. He licks his lips, then sits up straight and turns back to Topper. No glance to you, not even a little one.

"Hey, thanks, man. I'll be fine, though. Appreciate the concern," Rafe holds his hand out for Topper to shake once again, his way of telling Topper that you two can go now.

"All right," Topper nods, meeting Rafe's handshake, "If anything changes, give me a call. Let's play a round next weekend, yeah?"

"For sure. I'll make us a tee time later today," Rafe agrees.

Topper releases his hand and pats Rafe on the back again. Rafe turns back in his chair, keeping his eyes on the floor so he doesn't risk accidentally looking at you. You feel Topper turn to you, ready for you to lead him out of the Club.

"Bye, Rafe," you say gently.

He doesn't react. He pretends as if he doesn't hear you. You glance to Topper, watching him shrug. You take a deep breath and then turn away, feeling Topper once again set his hand on your arm so he doesn't lose you in the mass of people surrounding you. You don't look back at Rafe, even though you really want to. By the time you're out the door of the Club, you convince yourself he truly didn't hear you.

"So, are you finally out of the 'eating ice cream by the gallon' and 'watching The Notebook a million times over' phase?" Topper teases you.

You two had come to the beach for some peace, which gave you exactly that. You needed to be somewhere that wasn't your house, and when Topper suggested it, given the weather, it seemed perfect. The sun is tucked under clouds, and with the wind, you feel extremely content. He had a spare towel in his Jeep, which is what the two of you are currently sitting on.

"I have not watched The Notebook once, shut up," you laugh, shaking your head at him.

"I thought all girls did that," he defends.

"I'll let you in on a secret, Top," you say, sticking your spoon back into the ice cream Topper had bought for the two of you. It sits in between you, his spoon having gone untouched for a while now. You wonder if he bought it for you under the premise of sharing.

"Okay, what is it?"

"Girls don't like to be teased about The Notebook. It's actually a very classic film."

Topper lets out a loud laugh, "Yeah, okay."

"You've never even seen it!"

"No, I haven't," he agrees, "And I will never."

"Hm, I think I can change your mind," you smile.

He looks over at you now, watching the way the wind blows through your hair and how you pull your jacket tighter around your torso. You look down and pick up your spoon once more, taking another scoop of ice cream from the container.

"Y'know, I'm gonna say something, and if you ever repeat it to anyone, I'll deny it," he informs you.

"Okay."

"I missed seeing you smile."

Your head shoots over to him at his words, watching him break out into a grin. You do the same, letting your eyes fall from his after a second. He reaches down and swirls his spoon around, but doesn't take a bite.

"Yeah, I'd definitely deny it if I ever said something that cheesy," you tease him.

He laughs and shakes his head, "Shut up, would you."

You laugh once more, looking over at him with your smile as if to silently thank him. Of course, his words carry meaning with you. Sometimes, you feel as if Topper's the only person who really sees you, who attempts to understand who you are, not just what you've done.

"So," Topper starts again, shifting his position so he can pull something from his back pocket, "I forgot. We still need to figure out what to do with this."

He unfolds the picture of you and John B that you had handed him last night, watching as your smile falls completely. You reach over and gently take the photo from him, looking at the happy girl staring back at you. He had his arm wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you close to him. You remember that moment, and you can physically feel your heart squeezing in your chest.

Topper reaches over and pulls the picture away, noting your expression. You let him take it, not bothering to put up a fight.

"Come on, now. Didn't mean to put a damper on things. Maybe I should hold onto it for a little while-"

"No," you shake your head, "Just toss it. The next trash can you see, just get rid of it."

"Y/N-"

"I mean it, Top. Just get rid of it."

"All right," he nods his head, tucking the picture back into his pocket.

You lay back on your elbows, sand threatening to flood the towel. You shift your weight so no more sand gets on you, the grainy feeling underneath your elbows making you uncomfortable.

"So, what did Sarah say to you after I walked away last night?"

Topper snorts, laying back and copying your stance. You glance over at him, noting the way his hair is messed up from him constantly running his fingers through it.

"Oh, the usual," he shrugs, "I am the equivalent of gum stuck to her shoe, I think. It's like nothing ever even happened between us."

You sigh, "I felt that way with John B last night. He wouldn't even look at me."

"I'm sorry, Y/N," Topper says, his voice softer, "I know how that feels when it's fresh. It hurts like hell. Now, when I see Sarah, I just laugh. She's like - she's like a Venus flytrap. Always flaunting the new guy she's caught. She'll suck the soul right out of that poor sucker and then spit him out and move onto the next."

You know he's right, you'd seen Sarah do it a million times with guys all over the island. You remember how bad Topper had been when she left him. But, something about her next victim being John B makes the comparison to a Venus flytrap less funny to you.

"Yeah," you reply, barely above a whisper.

Silence falls over the two of you as you watch the ocean and think about John B. In his nice outfit at the Club last night, the way he had stayed dead silent when Sarah was disrespecting you. That wasn't him, that wasn't the John B you knew and loved. You suppose Sarah's already got her hooks in him, removing the parts of him you'd loved the most.

"So, Rafe kicked them out?" you question after a while, eyes trained on the ocean.

Topper chuckles, looking over at you, "I was wondering when you were gonna ask me about that."

"What does that mean?"

"Nothing," he says quickly, "It's just - Rafe seemed different. He's never thought twice about Sarah being a bitch to anyone. I don't know, maybe I'm thinking into it too much."

"I'm still not following your point, Top," you sigh.

"I don't know if I even have a point."

"You always have a point."

"Fair," he snickers, "Nah, I mean, he just seemed really pissed off for a guy who had just arrived. It wasn't like he knew what Sarah had said. He wasn't even there."

"Again, not catching your point."

Topper sighs, "Point is, he was mad. And I was confused, because he wasn't there one second, and the next he's dragging Sarah out by her arm and telling John B to get lost."

You steal a glance at him, swallowing before you speak, "What else did he say to them?"

Topper thinks for a moment, trying his best to remember. He recalls standing over the table, trying to read your shitty, scribbled writing of John B's order, when Rafe was suddenly looming over him with a clenched jaw.

"He didn't really say much. It was like, he looked at Sarah and she knew her fun time was over. He literally grabbed her arm and forced her up from the table, called John B a prick and told him to go back to the Cut, then escorted Sarah from the deck. He didn't want to make a huge scene, obviously, because any one of those people could've told Ward. But, I swear. If looks could kill, we'd be at a Cameron funeral right now."

You take a deep breath and look out at the ocean again, trying to picture it all going down. You're almost sorry you missed it. You would've loved to see the look on Sarah's face as she gets dragged from the Club.

"That's weird," you say, finally, "I'm not sure why he cared so much."

"Me neither," Topper shrugs, "He's probably just fed up with her games. Just like the rest of us."

You bite back your next question, hesitant if you should ask it or not. The way Rafe had ignored you at the Club is still sitting in the back of your mind; you'd been unable to let it go. You swallow, deciding that it's Topper you're asking.

"Did you notice how he didn't say one word to me at the Club?" you question, staring down at the melting ice cream now.

"Yeah. But, that's normal for you guys, right? I mean, I know you aren't his number one fan, or whatever."

You nod slowly, thinking about how he's right. You suppose you'd just gotten used to the way Rafe had talked to you at dinner the other night and then last night at the Club, and going back to nothing after that just took you by surprise.

"We should probably get going," Topper changes the subject, eyes flicking down to his watch.

You nod and stand up, collecting the ice cream bowl while Topper picks up the towel. You two start walking up the beach as your head spins from all the words Topper had said to you.

"Don't forget to throw that picture away."

"I won't."

College night comes and goes. Your mom had pushed you so hard to go, but you remained strong in your stance. You had camped out in your room that night, eating out of your snack drawer instead of going downstairs for dinner because you knew she'd make some smart comment. By the time Thursday night rolls around again, you wish you had a pass out of the weekly Cameron dinner.

You return to your normal outfit at your mother's insistence, a dress and light makeup. She'd given you a pass the past two weeks because of your breakup, but she didn't want the Camerons to think it would be a regular thing. It almost seems as if she cares more about what the Camerons think of her than what you do.

"You look beautiful," she tells you when you descend down the stairs.

You just give her a quick smile, then busy yourself by setting the table. When the doorbell rings, you make no move toward the door. You just inhale and adjust the napkin at your seat for the fourth time, trying to make yourself look busy.

"Look who decided to join the land of the living," your brother, Scott, mutters to you as he passes through the dining room to the foyer.

You roll your eyes, watching your mother shamelessly rush to join your father and your brother at the door. Silently, she waves her hand at you to come over and join them, but you pretend you don't see her.

You listen as they all greet the Camerons with their high pitched voices and hugs, making you want to throw up. You inch toward the foyer, smiling widely at Wheezie when she walks in. She sees you and smiles, rushing toward you.

"You look pretty," she complements you with a hug.

"Thanks, Wheeze. You, too. Love this purple," you smile, pointing down to her beautiful sundress.

"Thank you," she grins.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see him walk in. You look up before you can help it, watching as he gives your mom a wide smile and a hug. Sarah stands next to your father, no doubt charming him into loving her.

You're surprised when Rafe's eyes move to yours, as he had not given you the time of day at the Club last week. You watch as his eyes quickly skim over your body, taking in the dress you're wearing as best he could in one second. He swallows visibly, then brings his blue eyes back up to yours. He stares at you for a few seconds, then moves his glance back to your mother, who's been blabbing to him for minutes.

Eventually, your mom leads everyone into the dining room to sit. You're already seated when Rafe slides into his usual spot, not saying a word or looking over at you. You had never noticed the silence between the two of you until now; it almost feels deafening. Your brother sits down beside you, too, not looking at you. You know he's frustrated with the way you'd been acting the past two weeks, so you try to give him a grace period.

Dinner is served right then, Rafe passing the dish full of chicken to you without a word or a look. You're paying attention today, which both of you are grateful for. You steal glances at him for a while, wondering if he'll ever break the silence.

"Rafe, have you signed any new clients?" your father asks, sending you out of your trance.

You realize you've been staring at Rafe for a while, but with a quick glance around the table, you know nobody saw. You notice Sarah smiling in her lap and you instantly know she's on her phone. You roll your eyes, sure it's John B on the other end.

"Um, no, sir," Rafe speaks after he clears his throat.

You watch as your dad sends a look to Ward, as if he doesn't understand. You're not sure why Ward doesn't just tell the truth, but you're sure you already know the answer.

"Rafe's been taking a hiatus from work," Ward explains, "He has some things to figure out."

Rafe snorts beside you, earning yet another glance from you. You watch as this week, it's his turn to push his food around on the plate.

"You have a bright future, Rafe," your father encourages.

Rafe drops his fork onto his plate, the loud clatter earning the attention of everyone at the table. Even Sarah. He smiles smugly at your father, sending a look to Ward before he speaks again.

"Thank you, sir."

Everyone returns to normal, your mom and Rose breaking off into conversation, Sarah returning to her phone, and Scott trying his best to get involved with the business discussions of Ward and your father.

You look to Rafe again, noting the way his jaw is set and how his hands are folded together with his chin resting on top of them. You open your mouth to speak, but it gets drowned out by your mother.

"Sarah, did you go to college night?"

You sigh and throw your head back against your chair. Rafe tenses beside you, but he doesn't move his head or speak.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Did you enjoy yourself? Any schools jump out at you?"

Sarah glances at you and smirks, making your blood boil. You know that she knows you didn't go, so she's going to have fun with this one.

"Oh, yes. There were so many great schools. I particularly liked UGA and UNC. But, who knows. I'm just really glad I went. Helped me to narrow down my list of choices."

You clench your jaw and inhale sharply, fingers tightening their grip around your fork. You listen to your mother sigh, then sit back in her chair.

"I told Y/N she should go. She just didn't listen."

She sends a glance your way, but you don't meet it. You stare down at your plate, the food no longer looking appetizing. Silence falls over your end of the table, Sarah proud of herself.

"This chicken is delicious," Rafe speaks up, earning your attention.

"Thank you, Rafe," your mom smiles, "It's an old recipe."

"You'll have to give it to Rose," he nods.

You look over to him, wondering if he was trying to save you or if he was just being friendly. Your suspicions are confirmed when he finally steals a glance at you, only for half a second, to make sure you're okay. When your eyes meet his, you're sure it was intentional.

The glance is the extent of your conversation with Rafe through dinner. Once everyone retires into the living room for a glass of wine, you step out onto the back patio. The lights from the pool are the only thing that light up the space, but you don't mind. You step over to it and stick your feet in, aimlessly splashing the water around.

You're not surprised when you hear the back door open, forcing you to close your eyes and take a deep breath. The hair on the back of your neck stands up, and you're sure it's Rafe without having to think twice. You listen to his footsteps as they approach you, exhaling when he sits down beside you.

He sinks his feet down in the water, his thigh brushing yours slightly as he gets his bearings. You glance at him out of the corner of your eye, surprised when he holds a wine glass out to you in his right hand. He doesn't speak, doesn't look over, just holds it out in front of you. You reach out and take it, silently taking note of how he doesn't yank his hand away when your fingers brush.

"Thanks," you say sheepishly, bringing the glass up to your lips.

He hums in response, sipping from his own glass.

"How's your hiatus going?" you attempt.

His face doesn't change, "Don't wanna talk about it."

You exhale and nod slightly, glancing down at the wine glass in your hand. His has more in it than yours does, but you're sure that's only because his tolerance is so high. You move your legs around, splashing the water.

"Stop," Rafe snaps, but his voice sounds half-hearted, "You're splashing me."

You take another sip of wine before you speak, "So, you're really back to hating me, huh? Say what you will about Rafe Cameron, but he obviously doesn't go back on his word."

You recall last week in your kitchen, when he told you he'd be back to giving you a hard time the following week.

"What the hell does that mean?" he questions, turning his head to look at you.

"Nothing."

Your voice sounds annoyed and frustrated, which causes Rafe to let out a heavy sigh. He takes a long gulp of his wine, then laughs to himself and shakes his head.

"So, you're mad when I'm nice to you, and you're mad when I'm mean to you. What am I supposed to do here?"

"I didn't say I was mad," you counter.

"Well, you're clearly not happy."

"Yeah," you nod, "Because you're being a dick."

"That's what you wanted, remember?" he raises his voice at you now, regretting it when he sees you flinch.

You don't speak right away, you let the silence linger. Rafe runs a hand through his hair, sighing in frustration.

"So, that's why you completely ignored me at the Club with Topper," you figure out.

Of course he had heard you say goodbye to him. You feel like a fool for ever believing that Rafe Cameron wouldn't be paying attention.

"Yep," he replies, popping the 'p'. It pops louder than usual because of the wine covering his lips.

"I wasn't a big fan of that, just so you know."

You voice is lighter, as you're trying to ease some of the tension. You can tell you're successful when you watch Rafe make every attempt in the world to suppress the smile threatening the ends of his lips.

"The princess has spoken," he replies, taking another drink from his glass. Even though he started off with almost double what he gave you, your glasses are just about even.

You smile, shaking your head. Swirling the wine around in your glass, you think about what you want to say next.

"Maybe I was wrong," you decide to say, watching his head snap over to you.

"What do you mean?"

"I-"

The back door opens forcefully, Sarah's high-pitched voice ringing through your quiet moment.

"Rafe! Dad says five minutes. Might wanna sneak those wine glasses back inside before someone notices."

She's teasing you both and you know it, but thankfully, she just closes the back door once more. Rafe exhales and then downs about half of his wine in one sip.

"Please, continue," he encourages, voice broken up from the bitter taste of the alcohol burning his tongue.

"I don't remember what I was saying," your face flushes. Rafe shakes his head immediately.

"Yes, you do."

His voice is matter-of-fact. As if he doesn't buy into your excuse for one second. You're thankful it's dark outside so he can't see you pink cheeks.

"Um," you hesitate, taking another gulp of wine for encouragement, "Maybe, I don't know. We could just try and be friends, or something."

"Or something?" he raises his eyebrow, gaze fully settled on you now. He almost looks amused at how uncomfortable you are.

"Rafe," you whine, "I'm being serious."

"Here I was thinking I was being punked," he jokes, smirking.

You roll your eyes, pulling your legs from the water, "Oh, forget it."

"No," he grabs ahold of your arm before you can rise, watching as you immediately settle back into your spot, "Come on. I'm just messing with you. Or, can I not do that anymore, either? You're gonna have to write me a rulebook."

"I will."

"I know," he snorts. You notice how he still hasn't unwrapped his fingers from around your forearm, even though there's no threat of you leaving anymore, "I, uh, wouldn't mind it. Trying to be friends, I mean."

You smile before you can help it, feeling as his fingers slowly unwrap themselves from your arm. He brushes the pads of his fingers against your skin as he pulls his hand away, making you shiver. He grins, too, but he moves his head so he's looking at the water instead of you.

"Okay," you reply, biting your lip.

"Top talks about you enough. There's gotta be something good about you, I guess."

You roll your eyes, "Maybe just a couple things."

He laughs, finishing off his wine. You watch as he drains the glass, then take a long sip from yours as well. You finish your own glass with one last gulp, swallowing roughly as the wine goes down your throat.

The back door is thrown open again, and you hear Rafe groan quietly.

"Rafe," Sarah grunts, annoyance heavy in her voice.

"I'll be right there," he replies to her.

"Now," she hisses, "Dad says-"

"I'll be right there, Sarah," he raises his voice, turning around to look at her so she knows he's serious.

"John B says hi, Y/N," Sarah remarks before she slams the back door shut again.

You roll your eyes, wishing you had more wine to swallow as your mind falls right back to your ex-boyfriend again.

"Sorry," Rafe mumbles.

"You should go," you say quietly, "I'll take care of the wine glasses."

"Be careful. Your dad would kick my ass if he found out I gave you a drink," he smirks, winking at you when you look up to meet his eyes.

He drags his legs out of the pool and then stands, watching you do the same. You adjust your dress once you stand, smoothing it out.

"You look good," he blurts out, mouth parting slightly when he realizes he said that out loud.

You laugh when he looks down at the ground, then scratches the back of his neck as he tries to figure out a way to recover. When he meets your eyes again, you smile softly at him as if to thank him.

"Goodnight, Rafe."

He returns your small smile, giving you one back. You bite the inside of your cheek as he hands over his empty wine glass, never taking his eyes off of yours. You take the glass from him, swallowing when he takes a step forward.

"Goodnight," he whispers. You can feel his breath slightly on your cheek, giving you chills.

And as you lie in your bed later, replaying the entire night in your head, you realize it's the first night in about three weeks that you haven't cried, that you haven't sobbed and begged and wanted John B. It's the first night that you feel hopeful; happy even.

But you just can't quite put your finger on why.

Tags: @hollandsour @flowerkidlxrry @kookkyra @pogueslandia @sarahwasfound @fuzzyhumanpersontrash @rafecameronn @rafeswh0ree @outerbankies @morganwilliams @lilgodessshines @proactivetypeofperson @abrunettefangirlnerd @the-chaotic-cow @absolute-fcking-chaos @dontstopxx @natty2017 @kaatelyyynn @ellxlouise1 @hayley1623 @namelesssav @riseabovetheexpectations @divanca2006 @jordynsharum @11fandomfanatic11 @calpalisallweneed @eatingchocolatecrossaints @dudinahoff @notpeachybby @anonymousobxfan @blue-4-55-readinglist @deenaswifeyyy @premixed-margarita @444f4iry @alularae3 @toolateformcrtooearlytoleaveemo

*if you would like to be added/removed from my taglist at any time, please send me an ask!

#drew starkey #rafe cameron imagine #rafe obx #rafe cameron #rafe fic #rafe #rafe fanfiction #rafe outer banks #rafe imagine #rafe x y/n #rafe x reader #ambivalence #obx fanfiction #fanfic

1K notes · View notes