#they want you to mark their heavy sarcasm x)

[the-haunted-office]

"Some of you have wondered if I am Mae's sire. I know, it's an interesting coincidence that she and I both have red hair. Well, the answer is yes. I specifically traveled across timelines, read Thursday's mind, then read Doomsday's mind, then hopped into the dimension which contained the genetics facility Doom held up, went back in time, made my donation, and then went back into my own timeline before all this happened and waited to be discovered by Thursday, whose Officemates would then later remark upon my resemblance to her daughter. It's astounding how precisely I pulled off this whole scheme."

[mariasont]

can you do aaron x wife reader who also works in the bau with him & on a case a police officer openly flirts with aaron in front of the team and reader so she stakes her claim on her husband && the team ( mostly derek & pen ) are teasing the two of them for it ??

Marked Territory - A.H

A/N: AHHHHH thinking ab claiming aaron hotchner as ur man has me giggling & kicking me feet

THANK you sooooo much for requesting angel <3 hope you like it!

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

wk: 1.2k

pairings: aaron hotchner x wife!bau!fem!reader

warnings: heavy makeout, jealously

You stood a few feet away with a watchful gaze, arms locked across your chest. The consultant was laying it on thick, her eyelashes sweeping up and down in a practiced rhythm aimed at Aaron. It made you want to throw up. You couldn't help but let out a soft, almost inaudible scoff. The consultant's laughter pierced the quiet, an exaggerated display that felt out of place. Her hand rested on Aaron's arm a moment too long. Your glare could have set the room on fire, you were sure of it, and it only seemed to intensify when Aaron offered a polite, yet distant smile in return.

"Careful there, sugar," Derek joked, sliding into place beside you as he nudged your side. "You're about two seconds from turning this into a crime scene."

You offered a half-glance towards him, "I suppose I can't fault her taste," you said with a forced lightness, even as a twinge of jealously coiled tightly within you, your attention fixed on the hand that dared to claim familiarity with Aaron. "But good taste doesn't come with good sense, apparently."

Penelope swept in with a gasp that could rival a Greek chorus, her eyes wide with a feigned shock. "Wow, I could practically taste your fury from down the hall! Mrs. Hotchner, are we in strategy mode, or should I grab some popcorn?"

You rolled your eyes with a dismissive wave. "You two are ridiculous. What do you expect me to do? Drag her by her hair? Please, I trust Aaron," you stated firmly, because, well, you did. This, however, didn't stop the tiny spark of irritation that flickered within, unbidden and unwelcome, but you squashed it with a laugh. "Besides, if I started a catfight every time someone flirted with him, I'd need my own filing cabinet for all the assault charges."

A glance was all it took for Garcia and Morgan to share their amusement. "Sure, sure," Garcia drawled, her voice dripping in sarcasm.

Morgan's eyebrow arched in silent agreement as he smiled knowingly. "Of course, you're calm. But we both know if that bubble of anger pops, it's going to be one hell of a show."

You tried to ignore it; you really did. You buried your nose in your work, determined to keep your mind off that infuriating woman. You shuffled papers, dove into your case files, and tapped away at your computer with a vigor that doesn't go unnoticed by the team. Every time you caught a glimpse of Aaron, there she was--the consultant--hovering like a shadow. It's almost comical how she mirrored his every move, but you were not laughing.

You found reasons to be anywhere but where Aaron was, taking your coffee break when he's in the break room, opting for the stairs when he took the elevator. It's a dance of avoidance that has you mentally exhausted, but you're trying to channel your inner zen, and being around that woman is doing you no favors.

The office air is thick with tension, a tangible presence that envelops your desk, your focus splintering with every laugh and hushed conversation that drifts over from Aaron's direction. You're the very image of concentration until you see it--the consultant, her proximity invasive, her hand lingering on his shoulder with a familiarity that sears through your veneer of calm. It's the tripping point, the moment your restraint fractures.

You stand, a fluid motion that betrays her anger that charged the room with an energy that has the whole team's attention snapping to you. They recognize the signs--the firm line of your jaw, the fire in your eyes--a rare display that signals an unstoppable force is about to be set in motion.

"Hotch," the name is a clear, firm declaration across the room, a tone you usually reserved for the field. "Can I speak to you for a second?"

The room falls still, a collective breath held by the team as Aaron excuses himself and follows you into his office. The door closes behind them with a soft click, leaving just the two of you. His gaze meets yours, a furrow of worry creasing his brow as he takes in the tempest swirling in your stance.

"Honey, are you alright?" he asks, the professional facade giving way to a soft undertone of worry, as he takes a deliberate step towards you, his eyes searching yours for signs of distress.

With a swift assurance of privacy, your eyes lock on the drawn blinds, and you waste no time diminishing the space between you, hands clasping up to his neck with an urgency that pulls him down to you. Your lips found his in a fervent collision, coaxing a surprised murmur from him. He softly pulled back, his chuckle deep and knowing, as his hands encircled your waist. 

"Honey--I, we're in the office."

His words may have carried a hint of reprimand, but the gentle exploration of his hands across your back drawing you nearer seemed to contradict him. An innocent smile graced your lips as your fingers wove through his hair, eliciting his head tilting back in contentment. "Just missed you is all."

An eyebrow lifted in amused acknowledgement. "Mm, is that so?"

Gently tugging his head closer, your lips crashed against his with a desperate intensity, your hands gripping him as if he were a lifeline.

With deliberate strokes, you raked your fingers through his hair, creating artful disarray. Your hands glided to his tie, tugging it just enough to break the perfect line, then across his jacket, crumpling the fabric with feigned carelessness. Each touch a strategic step in enhancing his unkempt image.

A gentle exhale escaped you as he pressed you back against the desk's edge, his hands forming a cage around you, both protective and possessive.  Your lips curved into a smirk, your teeth capturing his bottom lip and tugging with a teasing pressure, probably a little harder than you should have, causing him to pull back. "Christ, sweetheart."

Instinctively, your hand rose to trace his bottom lip, smoothing over the swollenness your teeth had caused. A soft smile graced your features as you took in the delightful disarray of his appearance. With a satisfied nod, you left a featherlight kiss on his cheek and glided towards the door. "I love you, Mr. Hotchner."

His eyebrows knit together in loving exasperation as he observed your retreat, his hand absentmindedly caressing his lip. God, you kept life interesting. "I love you more, Mrs. Hotchner."

Emerging from Hotch's office, your hair perfectly disordered, a small smirk etched on your lips. You watch as the consultant's eyes stretch wide, a flush of embarrassment covering her cheeks. With a sly wink tossed her way, you glide towards Penelope and Morgan.

"Well, well, well," Morgan drawled, a sly grin spreading across his face as he watched the scene unfold, arms folded confidently over his chest. "I had a feeling those claws were just waiting for the right moment to strike."

"That's our girl! Showing the world whose boss without breaking a sweat." Penelope chirped. "Well, I mean, maybe a little sweat. I'm seriously striving not to speculate about what you two were doing in there."

A playful smirk dances on your lips as you peer over your shoulder at Hotch's door. "Just wait for it," you tease, fingers poised for the dramatic reveal as you count down. "3, 2, 1.."

Right on cue, Hotch steps out, looking every bit as ruffled as you'd intended. His tie hangs crooked, his suit crumpled, and you didn't miss the dark red tint around his bottom lip. The sound of Morgan and Penelope's laughter filled the air as you offered a nonchalant shrug. 

"It's all in the day's work, besties. A girl's got to do what a girl's got to do."

[littlelamy]

the aftermath of the fight: s1!rafe x reader

the tension in the cameron estate was thick, almost suffocating, clinging to every corner of the house. the echoes of raised voices were still fresh in your ears as you made your way down the corridor toward rafe’s room. the fight between him and ward had been explosive—a storm of bitter accusations, angry words, and the unmistakable sound of glass shattering. both men had walked away from it bruised, emotionally and physically.

you’d hesitated for a moment, but the silence that followed the chaos made your decision for you. rafe was volatile after moments like this, and the thought of him alone in that headspace made your heart ache.

the door to his room was slightly ajar. you pushed it open softly, stepping inside. the sight before you was both heartbreaking and infuriating. rafe sat on the edge of his bed, fists clenched tight, knuckles white. his face, usually sharp and full of confidence, was clouded with something darker—anger and pain, mingled with exhaustion.

“hey,” you called softly, keeping your voice gentle. “you need anything?”

his head snapped up, eyes meeting yours with a mix of frustration and something softer, more vulnerable. “what the hell are you doing here?” he snapped, voice rough and raw.

you took a deep breath, swallowing the sting his words left. “i’m here to help, rafe. i heard what happened. you’re hurt.”

he scoffed, turning his head away, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “i don’t need your pity.”

ignoring his harshness, you crossed the room and gently placed a hand on his shoulder. he flinched at your touch but didn’t pull away. “i’m not here to pity you,” you said softly. “i just want to make sure you’re okay.”

you knelt in front of him, taking his hands into yours, carefully turning them over to inspect the bruises and cuts that marked his skin.

“shit,” he muttered, wincing as you gently touched one of the scrapes. “this is a mess.”

“i know,” you replied, your tone soothing despite the tension in the air. “but we’ll fix it. let me help.”

he stared at you for a long moment, the frustration in his gaze slowly softening into something like resignation. “why the hell do you put up with me?” he asked quietly, voice barely audible. “i’m a mess.”

you sighed, reaching for the antiseptic. “because i care about you, rafe. and you’re more than just the anger or the pain.”

he looked away, the faintest blush creeping up his neck, shame weighing heavy on his expression. “i just wanted to prove something to him,” he mumbled. “i wanted him to see i’m not just some...”

you waited, dabbing the cloth on one of his cuts. “not just some what?”

“not just some disappointment,” he finished, the words heavy in the quiet room.

you shook your head, continuing to clean his wounds. “you’re not a disappointment, rafe. you’re just... hurting. and that’s okay. it doesn’t make you any less.”

he let out a low groan, eyes squeezing shut in frustration. “i hate this,” he muttered. “i hate feeling so...so weak.”

you paused, looking at him with a firmness he needed to hear. “you’re not weak. it takes strength to admit you’re struggling. and more to let someone help you.”

his hands trembled slightly in yours, and you could see the cracks forming in the walls he always built so high. the vulnerability in him was raw and real, and it tugged at your heart.

“why are you always so damn good to me?” he muttered, half exasperated, half grateful. “i don’t deserve it.”

you finished bandaging the worst of the cuts, sitting back on your heels. “maybe you don’t think you deserve it, but that doesn’t mean you don’t need it.”

he looked at you, eyes filled with something between frustration and relief. “you really mean that?”

you nodded, leaning up to pull him into a hug. his hesitation lasted only a moment before he wrapped his arms around you, holding you tight, almost like he was scared to let go. the embrace was intense, charged with emotion—his anger, your care, and a shared understanding.

as you pulled back slightly, your gaze locked with his, an unspoken tension hanging in the air. the kiss that followed was slow at first, your lips barely brushing his. but then, it deepened, the softness giving way to something more passionate, more urgent. his hands found your face, holding you close as he poured everything into that kiss—his regret, his need, his longing for something more than what his life had been up to now.

when you finally pulled away, both of you were breathing heavily, the intensity of the moment still lingering between you. rafe’s eyes were softer now, a little lighter, like the weight he carried had lessened, even if just a little.

“thank you,” he whispered, his voice quiet but sincere. “for being here... for putting up with me.”

you smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair away from his face. “i wouldn’t be anywhere else.”

for a moment, the world outside faded away. the fights, the pain, the weight of everything that had happened—it didn’t matter. in that small, quiet space, it was just the two of you, connected in a way that made the chaos of life feel a little more bearable.

[justnatoka]

Wearing Marko's jacket

Marko x Gender neutral! Reader (Implied Poly! Lost Boys x Reader)

Word count: 774

Warning: heavy allusions to smut

Seeing you wearing his jacket makes Marko feel all kinds of things.

Marko thought you were the most beautiful creature he’s ever seen. He thought so ever since he had first laid eyes on you one night on the boardwalk. He was leaning on the railing next to the spot they parked the bikes, David smoking and talking to Dwayne while Paul was blabbering to Marko about something. His eyes were roaming the crowd, looking for their next dinner when he spotted you. It wasn’t just your looks that caught his attention though. It was also the way you carried yourself, that fire in you as you stood your ground against the less than subtle, and very clearly unwanted flirting attempts of some Surf Nazi.

“Come on now, sweetheart, don’t be like that. I promise I’ll show you a good time. No one had any complaints before” he added with a seductive wink. At least you were pretty sure he meant it as one. You rolled your eyes for the umpteenth time in the few minutes this guy has been pestering you.

“Yeah, I’m sure about that.” He didn’t seem to notice the sarcasm in your voice. You were getting really tired of this interaction. “Also, I have a name you know, and it’s definitely not ‘sweetheart’.”

He licked his lips, eyes roaming your body before eventually settling back on your face.

“Oh yeah? Care to share it with me?”

“No, thank you” you sighed. “And honestly, I feel sorry for anyone who has to listen to you talking.”

You left him flabbergasted, his mouth hanging open as you walked away. Marko couldn’t contain his grin as he watched the scene before him unfold. He knew in that moment that he wanted to get to know you. He started talking to you that night, introduced you to the others the next, and as they say, the rest is history.

Now he was looking at you from his position lounging on the bed, feeling pleasantly tired. You’re breathing just got back to normal, and you felt like you could finally stand up without your legs shaking. So you got up to get some of the leftover takeout they brought back earlier. He watched your retreating figure, checking out your butt before you disappeared behind the curtain that served as a door to this little nook of the cave.

He must have dozed off for a few minutes, because the next time he opened his eyes you were sitting on the bed again, Chinese takeout box on your lap and chopsticks in your hand, eating. But what caused him to instantly become more awake was the fact that you were wearing his jacket. And what a sight you were! You put back on your underwear, but aside from that, all you were wearing was his damn jacket.

His eyes wandered appreciatively on your form. Your skin was peppered with lovebites, new ones he just made a few minutes ago next to older ones from previous nights that the others left on you. A lot of smaller ones were covering the skin on your chest and around your collarbones, peeking out from under the fabric, courtesy of Paul. There were some he could see on your inner thighs, already starting to fade. He knew those were left by Dwayne a few nights ago. And of course there were the few big ones on your neck. You grumbled about them a bit, slightly embarrassed to go out in public with such visible hickeys, but David was quick to placate you with more kisses. After all, he loved to show you off as theirs’, and you didn’t really mind it at the end of the day.

Your hair was still a tousled mess as you sat there and filled your stomach with noodles, and he thought back to the noises you made as he was running his fingers through it earlier in the heat of your passion. The sight of you covered in the marks of their love, wearing his jacket… it was doing things to him. In his eyes, you were practically glowing, and his chest filled with contentment. You were absolutely beautiful and you were all theirs’.

You glanced up at him, sensing his gaze and gave him a questioning look. He just shook his head with a smile, tearing himself out of his lovesick daydreaming.

“It’s nothing, you just look sexy as hell” he smirked. “I mean damn, babe! You should wear my clothes more often.”

You looked at him and gave him a smirk of your own.

“Yeah, maybe I should” you answered coyly, offering him the takeout box. Let’s just say you weren’t resting very long.

[lila-lou]

✨All talk✨

Summary: Living with Ben pushes your limits. His toxic presence fuels both anger and a confusing attraction. A heated confrontation turns physical, blurring the line between desire and power, drawing you into a dangerous game you’re unsure you want to escape.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Reader

Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, Language

Word Count: 7158

A/N: English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨

Living under the same roof as Soldier Boy was a test of patience and tolerance. His arrival at the team apartment brought with it a cloud of toxicity, his presence permeating every corner with his disdainful remarks and abrasive attitude. From the moment he walked in, it was clear he had no filter—his words dripping with contempt, especially when directed at you. His misogynistic jabs hit their mark with precision, each comment an assault on your dignity. Yet, as much as you despised his presence, you knew confronting him would only stoke the flames of his aggression. So, until now, you endured, gritting your teeth and counting the days until his fucking departure.

You entered the kitchen, trying to ignore the disdainful gaze that followed you. Ben sat at the table, crushing pills with a grim determination.

"Nice outfit", he sneered, his voice dripping with contempt. "Didn't know we were auditioning for street corners now".

You clenched your fists, resisting the urge to lash out. "Mind your own business, Ben".

He chuckled, his eyes flicking up to meet yours. "Oh, I am. Your business is my entertainment, sweetheart".

Ignoring his taunts, you grabbed a glass from the cupboard, your movements deliberate. But his words hung heavy in the air, poisoning the atmosphere with their venom.

"Back in my time, women had some fucking espect for themselves and didn't walk around like fucking sluts".

"Times have changed, Ben".

He scoffed, a bitter smile twisting his lips. "You think anything really changed? You´re just waiting for a strong man to put you back in line".

You raised an eyebrow, incredulous at his audacity. "To put me back in line?", you scoffed, a bitter edge creeping into your voice. "I've never been in line, Ben. And I sure as hell won't start now just because you think you're some kind of authority".

Ben's laughter grated on your nerves, a harsh sound that echoed through the room. "You'll learn, sweetheart. They all do".

But you refused to back down, your resolve hardening with each passing moment. "Not this time", you muttered under your breath, a quiet vow to yourself. "Not ever".

"No wonder you're single," he mumbled. "You're a fucking pain in the ass, probably won't even shut up if there's a dick shoved down your throat".

Heat rose to your cheeks, anger boiling within you. "You're despicable, Ben", you shot back, your voice trembling with suppressed rage. "I'd rather be single for eternity than spend a minute with someone like you".

He smirked, his expression smug and self-satisfied. "Keep telling yourself that, sweetheart. But we both know you'll come crawling back, begging for a taste of the real deal".

“So you’re the real deal?”, you quipped, a hint of sarcasm in your voice. “More like a sad excuse for a man”.

His smirk faltered for a moment, replaced by a flicker of annoyance. “Watch your mouth, princess”, he warned, his tone sharp.

“Or what?”, you challenged, turning to face him fully, your gaze steady despite the tension crackling between you. “You’ll throw another tantrum like a petulant child?”.

Ben’s jaw clenched, his fists tightening at his sides. “You’re pushing it, sweetheart”, he growled, his voice low and dangerous.

A sinister smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you leaned in closer, your eyes locked with his. “What’s the matter, Ben? Can’t handle a woman who isn’t afraid to stand up to you?”.

The air escaped your lungs in a sharp gasp as Ben's sudden aggression caught you off guard. Before you could react, you found yourself pressed against the wall, his forearm crushing against your throat, cutting off your breath. His eyes bore into yours with a dangerous intensity, a silent warning of the power he held over you in that moment.

"Think you're tough, huh?", he growled. "Let's see how tough you really are".

You struggled against his grip, the pressure on your throat intensifying with each passing second. Despite the primal fear that should have gripped you, a different sensation coursed through your body, one that shocked and disturbed you to your core. Instead of trembling in terror, you felt a surge of heat pooling between your legs, a primal desire awakening within you.

You had to be insane, you thought, even as your body betrayed you. His closeness, the scent of his cologne mingling with the musk of his exertion, the feel of his strong arms pressing against your throat—it all ignited a fire within you that you couldn't extinguish.

Ben's grip loosened slightly, his brow furrowing in confusion. His gaze flickered down, and realization dawned in his eyes.

He raised an eyebrow, a mixture of surprise and amusement dancing in his features. "Well", he murmured, his voice a low rasp. "Seems like little miss tough has a dirty little secret".

The heat in your cheeks spread to every inch of your body, shame and arousal warring within you. You tried to speak, to offer some feeble protest, but the words caught in your throat, lost in the haze of desire that clouded your mind.

Ben's lips curled into a wicked grin, his grip on you loosening even further as he leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear. "Tell me, princess", he whispered, his voice dripping with mockery. "Is this what gets you off? A little danger, a little dominance?".

You swallowed hard, unable to tear your gaze away from his piercing eyes. "Shut up", you managed to choke out, your voice barely above a whisper.

But Ben only chuckled, the sound sending shivers down your spine. "Oh, I don't think I will", he taunted, his lips grazing your earlobe. "Not when you're squirming like this. It's quite the turn-on".

With Ben's body pressed against yours, every move felt calculated, every breath laden with tension. There was nowhere to escape, no way to evade his overpowering presence.

His voice, low and husky, sent a shiver down your spine. "You know", he murmured, his lips brushing against your cheek, "I bet if I were to slide my hand under that little slutty dress of yours, I'd find you fucking drenched".

You gasped at his audacity, the heat in your cheeks burning hotter than ever. "You wouldn't dare", you hissed, your voice trembling with a mixture of arousal and defiance.

But Ben only smirked, his fingers tracing lazy circles along your jawline. "Oh, sweetheart", he whispered, his breath hot against your skin, "You have no idea".

Ben's smirk widened into a knowing grin, his eyes alight with amusement. "You're all talk, aren't you?", he taunted, his voice laced with condescension. "A tough little princess with a filthy mouth, but when it comes down to it, you're nothing but a trembling mess".

You bristled at his words, your pride stung by his mocking tone. "You don't know anything about me", you retorted, your voice sharp with defiance.

But Ben leaned in closer, his lips brushing against yours in a tantalizingly brief touch. "Oh, I think I know more than you realize", he murmured, his breath sending a shiver down your spine. "And I'm just getting started".

With a surge of adrenaline, you seized the opportunity, driving your knee upward with all the force you could muster. It connected with his crotch, and Ben's grip on you faltered as a pained grunt escaped his lips. His smirk replaced by a grimace of agony.

"You little—", he started, but his words were cut short by another wave of pain.

Breathing heavily, you pushed him away, the rush of victory coursing through your veins. "Don't underestimate me", you spat, your voice fierce with determination. "I'm not your plaything, Ben".

Ben took a deep breath, clearly struggling to keep his emotions in check. His eyes blazed with a mix of fury and something else—something almost like respect.

You took a step back, maintaining eye contact with him, and raised your middle finger in a defiant gesture.

Without waiting for a response, you turned on your heel and strode out of the apartment, your heart pounding with adrenaline. The cool evening air hit you as you stepped outside, a welcome relief from the intensity inside. You pulled out your phone and texted your friends, letting them know you were on your way for that much-needed drink.

As you walked towards the bar, a small smile played on your lips. You had stood your ground and shown Ben that you weren't someone to be trifled with.

But as you walked towards the bar, you couldn't shake the lingering sensation of arousal. Despite the confrontation, or maybe because of it, you were acutely aware of how wet you were. The throbbing heat between your legs was a stark reminder of the confusing mix of emotions Ben had stirred within you.

You tried to focus on the anticipation of seeing your friends, on the promise of laughter and drinks that awaited you. But every step you took seemed to amplify the memory of Ben's body pressed against yours, the intensity of his gaze, the rough timbre of his voice.

By the time you reached the bar, your mind was still a whirlwind of conflicting feelings. You pushed open the door, the warm, lively atmosphere inside a welcome distraction. Spotting your friends at a corner table, you took a deep breath and made your way over, determined to let the night wash away the complexities of your encounter with Ben. But as you sat down and ordered your drink, you knew it wouldn't be that easy to forget.

It was 3 in the morning by the time you stumbled back into the apartment, a pleasant buzz from the night’s drinks warming your veins. The struggle to remove your heels almost sent you toppling over, but you managed to steady yourself with a chuckle.

As you made your way to the kitchen, the soft glow of the television caught your eye. There was Ben, lounging on the couch in the living room, a brooding silhouette against the flickering screen. A part of you tensed, half-expecting him to jump up and retaliate for your earlier attack. Yet, another part of you couldn't resist the urge to provoke him just a little more.

"Still sulking over your balls?", you teased, leaning casually against the doorway, a sly smile playing on your lips.

Ben's head turned slowly, his eyes locking onto yours with a mix of surprise and something else—something darker. He didn't respond immediately, just stared at you for a long moment, as if assessing the situation.

"Had a good night?", he finally asked, his voice calm but laced with an undercurrent of tension.

You shrugged, the alcohol in your system making you bolder than usual. "Better than yours, I'm guessing".

He chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that sent a shiver down your spine. "You think you're fucking funny, don't you?".

"Just calling it like I see it", you shot back, stepping further into the room, your pulse quickening at the intensity of his gaze.

Ben leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his eyes never leaving yours. "You're playing a dangerous game, sweetheart", he warned, his voice soft but deadly serious.

You took a deep breath, feeling the intoxicating mix of fear and desire swirl within you once more. "Maybe I like danger", you replied, your voice barely more than a whisper, the challenge clear in your tone.

It was probably the booze that had those words slipping from your lips.

Ben raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he took in your bold stance.

He chuckled, the sound low and mocking. “You wouldn’t survive five minutes with me”, he mumbled, almost to himself, but loud enough for you to hear.

You felt a thrill of defiance surge through you, pushing you to step even closer. “Is that a challenge?”, you asked, the alcohol making your voice steadier and more daring than it would have been otherwise.

Ben’s eyes darkened, his smirk widening into a grin that sent a shiver down your spine. “Oh, sweetheart”, he murmured, standing up slowly and towering over you, “it’s a promise”.

You held your ground, refusing to back down even as your heart pounded in your chest. “Prove it”, you dared, the words escaping before you could think better of it.

The whole night, even as you tried to enjoy the company of your friends and the hum of the bar around you, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. Ben’s words echoed in your mind, blending with memories of his strong arms, his intoxicating scent, and his deep, mocking voice.

You imagined what it would be like to be with him, the forbidden allure of his dominance pulling at something deep inside you. You bet he could fuck like no one else, and the thought sent a shiver of desire through you. Maybe, just maybe, you could try it once, get it out of your system, and then go back to hating him.

As you stood there, the air thick with tension, Ben could hear the rapid beat of your heart, his senses finely attuned to every subtle signal. He rose from the couch, each movement slow and deliberate, like a predator closing in on its prey.

He walked closer, the gap between you shrinking with each step, and you could see the shift in his expression as he caught the scent of your arousal. His eyes darkened, and he licked his lips, his gaze roaming over your body, taking in every detail.

“You can’t hide it”, he murmured, his voice a low rumble. “I can smell how fucking wet you are”.

Your breath hitched, the undeniable truth of his words making your pulse quicken even more. He was close enough now that you could feel the heat radiating off his body, his presence overwhelming.

“You’re practically begging for it”, he continued, his tone dripping with confidence. “All that talk, all that attitude, and here you are, fucking soaked and ready”.

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and you bit your lip, trying to steady yourself against the overwhelming tide of desire.

"I'll enjoy ruining you", Ben mumbled, his voice dark and filled with promise.

You tried to maintain your composure, but the moment his big palm settled around your hipbone, your resolve crumbled. His touch was electrifying, and you practically melted under his hand, your body instinctively leaning into his.

Ben's grin widened as he felt you soften against him. "That's it", he murmured, his thumb brushing the sensitive skin just above your hip. "I knew you had it in you".

Your breath came in shallow gasps, and you felt a rush of heat spread through your body. "Ben", you whispered, your voice trembling with a mixture of anticipation and desperation.

He leaned in, his lips grazing your ear as he whispered, "Don't worry, sweetheart. I'll take good care of you".

And with that, he drew you closer, his hand sliding down to the small of your back, pressing you firmly against him. You could feel the hardness of his body, the raw power that seemed to radiate from him, and you knew there was no turning back now. This was the moment you'd been yearning for, the forbidden thrill you'd been unable to resist.

As his lips claimed yours in a searing kiss, you surrendered to the intensity of your desire, ready to see just how far this dangerous game would take you.

His kiss was a mixture of dominance and raw desire that left you breathless. Before you could fully process what was happening, Ben’s strong arms scooped you up effortlessly, lifting you as if you weighed nothing. You instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck, your fingers tangling in his hair as he carried you across the room.

Each step he took was deliberate, his grip on you firm yet almost tender. The world around you seemed to blur, your focus entirely on him and the anticipation that built with every second.

When he reached the couch, he paused, his gaze raking over you with a predatory hunger. Then, with a surprising gentleness, he laid you down, the soft cushions beneath you contrasting sharply with the intensity of the moment. He hovered above you, his hands bracing on either side of your head as he looked down, his breath coming in steady, controlled inhales.

“You have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into”, he murmured, his voice low and velvety. His fingers traced a path down your arm, sending shivers through your body as he watched your reactions with keen interest.

You couldn’t help but arch slightly beneath him, the ache between your legs growing unbearable. “Then show me”, you challenged, your voice a breathless whisper.

Ben’s eyes darkened with desire, and he leaned down, capturing your lips in another demanding kiss. His hands roamed your body, exploring every curve and dip with a possessiveness that made you feel claimed, owned. His touch was both rough and tender, a perfect blend of dominance and care that left you trembling beneath him.

As his lips trailed down your neck, his teeth grazing your sensitive skin, you felt the last remnants of your resistance crumble. Ben’s hands moved with expert precision, sliding beneath your dress and inching it upward, exposing more of your skin to the cool air and his heated gaze.

Ben sat back slightly, his eyes roaming over your body with an intensity that made you feel completely exposed and vulnerable. He didn't hide his interest as he let his gaze settle between your legs, taking in the sight without a hint of shame.

"Fucking soaked", he groaned, his voice thick with desire. "Just like I said". His fingers hooked into the waistband of your panties, and with a slow, deliberate motion, he pulled them down your legs. The cool air hit your skin, contrasting sharply with the heat radiating from your core.

Ben's eyes never left yours as he discarded your panties, his expression a mix of triumph and raw hunger. "Look at you", he murmured, his voice a dark, sensual growl. "So ready, so eager".

You felt a rush of heat flood your cheeks, but you couldn't tear your eyes away from him. The way he looked at you, the way his hands and eyes claimed every inch of you, was intoxicating.

He leaned back in, his hands sliding up your thighs, spreading them wider as he settled between them. "I'm going to fucking ruin you", he whispered, his breath hot against your skin. "And you're going to love every second of it".

With that, his mouth descended, his tongue flicking out to taste you. The sensation was electrifying, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. You arched against him, your hands fisting in the cushions as he expertly worked you with his mouth and fingers, driving you closer and closer to the edge.

Ben's mouth worked expertly against you, his tongue tracing circles and flicks that sent jolts of pleasure through your entire body. The heat between your legs intensified with each movement, and you could feel the evidence of your arousal soaking his lips and beard.

He groaned against you, the vibrations adding another layer to your mounting pleasure. "So fucking sweet", he murmured between licks, his voice husky and thick with desire. "I can taste how much you want this".

His words only heightened your arousal, making you buck your hips toward him, craving more. Ben responded by gripping your thighs tighter, pulling you closer as his tongue delved deeper, exploring every inch of your sensitive folds. His beard brushed against your inner thighs, slick with your juices, adding a deliciously rough texture to the sensations overwhelming you.

The sounds he made, guttural and primal, mixed with the wet, slick noises of his mouth against you, creating an intoxicating symphony of lust. You couldn't hold back your moans any longer, your hands tangling in his hair as you urged him on.

Ben's fingers joined the fray, sliding into you, curling just right to hit that perfect spot inside you. Your back arched off the couch, a sharp cry escaping your lips as he found your rhythm, working in tandem with his mouth to push you closer to the edge.

"You taste so fucking good", he growled, his beard now completely soaked from your arousal. "And you're going to come for me, aren't you?".

The combination of his relentless tongue, skilled fingers, and the deep, commanding timbre of his voice drove you wild. You could feel the tension building, coiling tighter and tighter in your core until it was almost unbearable.

"Ben", you gasped, your voice breaking as you teetered on the edge. "I'm—".

He didn't let you finish. With a final, intense suck and a precise thrust of his fingers, he sent you over the edge. Your orgasm crashed through you, waves of pleasure radiating from your core, making you tremble and cry out his name.

Ben didn't let up, continuing to lap at you, drawing out your release until you were a quivering, breathless mess.

When he finally pulled back, his face was glistening with your juices, his eyes dark with satisfaction and a promise of more to come.

"Such a good girl", he murmured, his voice filled with a mixture of pride and lust. "But we're not done yet. Not by a long shot".

Still breathless from the intensity of your orgasm, you barely had time to recover before Ben was on you again. His wet mouth pressed against yours, the taste of your own arousal mingling with the raw hunger of his kiss. He didn’t give you a moment to hesitate, his tongue pushing roughly into your mouth, exploring and claiming you with a fervor that left you reeling.

“Taste yourself”, he growled against your lips, his voice a dark, commanding whisper. The wetness of his beard and lips brushed against your skin, a constant reminder of what he’d just done to you.

You could taste yourself on him, the intimate flavor combined with the heat of his mouth sending another wave of arousal through you. His kiss was demanding, his tongue tangling with yours in a fierce battle for dominance that he inevitably won.

The roughness of his actions only heightened your desire, making you cling to him, your hands gripping his shoulders as you kissed him back with equal fervor. His hands roamed your body, one sliding up to cup your breast, squeezing just hard enough to make you gasp into his mouth.

Grinning against your lips, Ben’s hand tightened around your breast, squeezing harder. This time the pressure was enough to make you wince, a sharp intake of breath mingling with the heat of his kiss. His grin widened, a dark satisfaction gleaming in his eyes as he watched your reaction.

“That’s it”, he murmured, his voice low and husky. “I love hearing those little sounds you make”. His fingers kneaded your flesh, alternating between rough squeezes and lighter caresses, keeping you on the edge of pleasure and pain.

You moaned against his mouth. Ben’s other hand trailed down your body, his touch leaving a burning trail in its wake. He cupped your ass, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you.

He broke the kiss, his lips moving to your neck, sucking and biting the sensitive skin there. “You’re mine tonight”, he growled, his breath hot against your ear. “Every inch of you”.

You could only nod, your body responding to his every touch, every word. His hands continued their exploration, one slipping under your dress to find the wet heat between your legs. He groaned in approval, his fingers sliding through your slick folds.

“I can’t wait to feel you around me”.

His words sent another wave of arousal crashing through you, and you arched against him, desperate for more. Ben’s fingers teased you, brushing against your clit before dipping inside once more, making you gasp.

“Ben”, you whispered, your voice trembling with need. “Please”.

His eyes met yours, dark and intense. “Please what?”, he asked, a wicked smile playing on his lips.

“Please”, you repeated. “I need you”.

His grin widened, and he leaned in to kiss you again, his fingers moving with more urgency. “You’ll get what you need, sweetheart”, he promised. "But you’re going to have to beg for it”.

You bit your lip, the intensity of his gaze making your heart race. “Please, Ben”, you said, your voice trembling. “I need you. Now”.

Ben’s mouth traced a hot path down your neck, his breath sending shivers across your skin. He grasped the neckline of your dress, pulling it down with a swift, determined motion that left your breasts exposed to his hungry gaze. Your nipples, already hardened from the intensity of his touch, stood out proudly.

“That’s not good enough”, he murmured against your skin.

Before you could respond, his mouth descended on one of your nipples, sucking hard. The sensation was electric, a mix of pleasure and pain that made you arch against him, a sharp gasp escaping your lips. His tongue swirled around the sensitive peak, drawing it deeper into his mouth before he bit down, sending another jolt of sensation through you.

You moaned loudly, your fingers tangling in his hair as you clung to him, the pleasure overwhelming. “Ben”, you breathed, your voice trembling with the intensity of your need.

He chuckled darkly against your skin, his mouth moving to lavish the same attention on your other nipple, sucking and biting with a roughness that left you breathless. His hands continued their exploration, one sliding up your thigh to push your dress higher, the other cupping your breast, squeezing and kneading with a possessive intensity.

“You want it so bad, don’t you?”, he murmured, his voice a low, seductive whisper. “I can feel how much you need it, but I want to hear you beg properly”.

You swallowed hard, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you tried to steady yourself. “Please, Ben”, you whispered, your voice trembling. “I need you. I need you to fuck me".

He pulled back slightly, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart race. “Not good enough”, he said again, his voice a dark command. “Beg me like you fucking mean it”.

You could see the challenge in his eyes, the demand for complete submission. Your body ached with need, the desire to please him overwhelming. “Please, Ben”, you said, louder this time, your voice filled with desperation. “I need you inside me. Please fuck me. I can’t wait any longer”.

A satisfied grin spread across his face, and he leaned down to capture your lips in a searing kiss. “Good girl”, he murmured against your mouth, his hands moving to unbuckle his belt. “Now let’s see how well you can take it”.

As Ben freed himself from his jeans, the sight of his impressive size made you mumble a breathless “Fuck”. The reality of the situation hit you with full force, and a mix of fear and excitement coursed through you. You pushed yourself up on your elbows, instinctively backing away slightly.

“No, no, no”, you stammered, your voice trembling. “I changed my mind. No thanks, fuck, no”.

Ben’s eyes darkened, but there was a glint of amusement in them as well. He reached out, his hand gently but firmly gripping your ankle to keep you from retreating further. “Oh, sweetheart”, he murmured, his voice low and velvety, “you can’t back out now. Not after all that begging”.

He moved closer, his grip on your ankle tightening slightly as he leaned over you, his presence overwhelming. “I promise”, he whispered. “I’ll take good care of you”.

You felt a shiver run down your spine, the mixture of fear and desire making your heart race. Despite your hesitation, there was a part of you that craved the intensity of what was about to happen. His hand slid up your leg, his touch both reassuring and commanding, as he positioned himself between your thighs once more.

“Trust me”, he said, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made it hard to look away. “You’ll fucking love it”.

Before you could protest further, Ben’s lips captured yours in a searing kiss, his hand moving to hold your hip in place. His other hand guided himself to your entrance, and with a slow, deliberate push, he began to enter you.

As Ben pushed inside you, a sharp cry of pain escaped your lips, only to be muffled by his kiss. The stretch was intense, every inch of him filling you beyond what you thought possible. You clung to him, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you tried to adjust to the overwhelming sensation.

“Fuck”, he groaned into your mouth, his voice thick with arousal. The tightness of your body around him seemed to drive him wild, his grip on your hip tightening as he held you steady.

Ben didn’t give you time to adjust. Instead, he thrust deeper, making you gasp against his lips. The intensity was almost too much to bear.

“All that teasing”, he growled, his voice low and dangerous. “All those smart remarks and your big mouth. This is what you wanted, isn’t it?”.

You whimpered, the mixture of pain and pleasure overwhelming. Ben’s grip on your hip tightened more, his pace unrelenting as he pushed even deeper, driving the breath from your lungs.

“You’ve been begging for this”, he continued, his tone dripping with dark amusement. “Now you’re going to take it”.

With that, Ben pushed forward hard, bottoming out inside you, and the intense sensation took your breath away. You cried out, your nails digging into his shoulders with such force that you could feel the skin break beneath your fingers. He groaned in response, the mixture of pain and pleasure driving him further.

“That’s it”, he growled, his voice a rough whisper against your ear. “Feel that? Every inch of me inside you. This is what you wanted all along”.

You could only whimper in response, the overwhelming sensation rendering you speechless.

Ben’s eyes bore into yours, a feral satisfaction gleaming in them as he reveled in how you felt around him. He didn’t give you a moment to catch your breath. Without hesitation, he pulled out until just the tip of him remained inside you, then slammed back in deep and hard, making you jolt back on the couch.

The force of his thrusts sent shockwaves through your body, each one driving you further into a state of overwhelming pleasure. Your cries filled the room, a mix of pain and ecstasy, as Ben maintained his relentless rhythm. His hands gripped your hips with bruising force, holding you in place as he took you with a raw intensity.

“You feel so fucking good”, he groaned, his voice thick with lust. “Tight and perfect around me”.

Your nails raked down his back, leaving trails of red as you clung to him, your body arching to meet his every thrust. The pleasure was almost too much to bear, your mind a haze of sensation and need.

Ben’s pace quickened, his movements becoming more urgent as he pushed both of you closer to the edge. “You like this, don’t you?”, he growled, his breath hot against your ear. “You love being fucked like this”.

“Yes”, you gasped, your voice trembling with the intensity of it all. “I love it”.

He growled in approval, his thrusts growing even harder, deeper, driving you both toward an inevitable climax.

The rhythm of his thrusts became a wild dance of dominance and submission, a fierce and primal connection that left you breathless.

“So fucking tight, so perfect. I could fuck you forever”, he groaned

The words sent a fresh wave of arousal through you, every nerve ending alive with sensation. You clung to him, your nails digging into his back as you tried to hold on, the pleasure building to an almost unbearable peak. Each thrust sent ripples of ecstasy radiating from your core, mingling pain and pleasure in a way that left you trembling.

“Ben”, you gasped, your voice breaking with the intensity of it all. “I’m so close. Please, don’t stop”.

“I won’t”, he promised, his breath hot against your ear as he drove deeper, each thrust more powerful than the last. “Come for me, sweetheart. I want to feel you”.

The intensity of his words and the relentless pace pushed you over the edge.

“That’s it”, he growled, his voice filled with satisfaction as he felt you tighten around him. “That’s my girl. Come for me”.

Your body convulsed, a tidal wave of pleasure crashing through you as you cried out his name. The world dissolved into a haze of white-hot ecstasy, every muscle tightening around him as you reached the peak of your climax.

The sound of his voice, the feel of his body driving into yours, sent you spiraling higher. The waves of your orgasm seemed endless, each one more intense than the last, until you were left trembling and breathless beneath him.

But Ben didn’t intend to stop. Even as the waves of your orgasm began to subside, he sat back, pulling himself out of you with a low groan. His hands gripped your hips, and he looked at you with an intense, commanding gaze.

“Get on top”, he ordered, his voice rough with desire. “I’m not done with you yet”.

Your legs were trembling from the intensity of your climax, but the need in his eyes spurred you into action. You moved to straddle him, your heart pounding in anticipation. But as you hovered above him, you hesitated, a flicker of fear crossing your mind. The intensity of the new angle was daunting, and you could already feel the promise of how deeply he would fill you.

Ben’s hands tightened on your hips, his eyes darkening as he sensed your hesitation. “I know you can handle it”.

Taking a deep breath, you slowly lowered yourself onto him, feeling the stretch as he filled you once more. The sensation was overwhelming, even more intense than before. As you paused to catch your breath, your legs trembling, Ben’s hands gripped your hips firmly.

“All the way princess”, he urged, his voice a mix of command and encouragement. “There’s still a few inches left".

You were already breathing heavily, the fullness almost too much to bear, but his words spurred you on. With a determined breath, you slowly sank down further, inch by inch, until you were seated completely, taking him all the way in. The depth was incredible, pushing you to your limits, and you couldn’t help but let out a shaky moan as you adjusted to the intense sensation.

“That’s it”, he groaned, his eyes locked onto yours with a look of raw desire. “You feel so fucking amazing”.

His praise sent a shiver down your spine, and you began to move, slowly at first, lifting yourself slightly before sliding back down. The friction was exquisite, every movement sending ripples of pleasure through your body. Ben’s hands guided your hips, helping you find a rhythm that made you both gasp with pleasure.

“You look so fucking beautiful like this”, he murmured, his voice rough with emotion. “Riding me, taking me so deep”.

You bit your lip, the words making your heart race even faster. The intensity of the new angle, combined with the raw desire in his eyes, drove you wild. Your pace quickened, each thrust pushing you closer to the edge.

“Ben”, you gasped, your voice trembling with the overwhelming sensation. “It’s so much… I can’t…”.

“You can”, he growled, his hands tightening on your hips, urging you to move faster.

The command in his voice sent a surge of arousal through you, and you moved with renewed urgency, your hips grinding against him as you rode him harder. The pleasure built to an unbearable peak, and you could feel yourself teetering on the brink of release.

“That’s it”, he groaned, his eyes never leaving yours. “Come for me”.

With a final, powerful thrust, the pleasure exploded within you, a wave of ecstasy that left you trembling and crying out his name.

About an hour later, the room was filled with the sounds of flesh meeting flesh, punctuated by your ragged breaths and Ben’s deep, guttural groans. Your face was shoved into the couch, your ass raised high by his strong hands as he pounded into you from behind. The relentless rhythm had turned you into a moaning mess, unable to form coherent words.

Sweat slicked both your bodies, your hair sticking to your face and neck as you gasped for breath. Every thrust sent shockwaves of sensation through your sore, overstimulated body. Your hips ached from the bruising grip of his hands, and your pussy throbbed with a mixture of pleasure and pain.

“Please, Ben”, you finally managed to gasp, your voice trembling with exhaustion and desperation. “Please, finish. I can’t take any more”.

He growled in response, his pace never faltering as he drove into you with relentless intensity. “Not until I decide”, he replied, his voice rough and commanding. “You’re going to take everything I give you”.

You whimpered, the sheer force of his thrusts making it hard to catch your breath. Despite the exhaustion, a part of you still craved more, the primal desire to be taken completely overriding your fatigue.

Your moans grew louder, each thrust pushing you closer to the edge once again, despite your exhaustion. The pleasure and pain intertwined, creating an intoxicating mix that left you trembling.

Ben’s breathing grew heavier, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he neared his own climax. “Hold on a little longer”, his voice strained with the effort of holding back

You nodded weakly, your body barely able to keep up with the intensity.

With a final, powerful thrust, Ben drove deep into you, his grip bruising as he found his release. You felt the warmth of his climax fill you, his body shuddering against yours.

For a moment, the world seemed to stand still, the only sounds the ragged breaths of both of you as you came down from the high.

Slowly, Ben eased his grip, his hands gently caressing your sore hips as he pulled out and collapsed beside you on the couch.

Ben's breath was still heavy as he reached over, grabbing your discarded panties and handing them to you. "Here, keep this from making a mess", he said, his voice rough but tinged with a teasing edge. You took them, barely able to sit up, your entire body aching and weak from the intensity of the past hour.

As you struggled to pull your panties back on, every movement felt like a Herculean effort. Your muscles protested, and you could barely keep your eyes open. Ben watched you with a satisfied smirk, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of pride and amusement.

"What's the matter?", he teased, brushing his damp hair back from his forehead. "All worn out already? I thought you said you could handle it".

You managed a tired glare, but it lacked any real heat. "I did handle it", you retorted weakly, finally managing to pull your panties into place, feeling the uncomfortable yet strangely satisfying sensation of his cum trapped against your skin. "You just didn't know when to quit".

He chuckled, reaching over to brush a strand of hair from your face. "You actually did pretty good for a human", he said, his voice softening for a moment. "But I'm not done with you yet".

Your eyes widened slightly, a mix of dread and anticipation swirling within you. "Ben, I don't think I can…".

"Relax", he chuckled. "I mean tomorrow. Rest now. You'll need your strength".

You let out a sigh of relief, your body sinking back into the couch as exhaustion finally overtook you.

"Get some sleep", he mumbled. "You earned it",

You nodded, your eyes drifting closed as you let the fatigue wash over you.

Within seconds, you fell asleep against his biceps, your exhaustion finally overtaking you. "I didn´t mean on me", he grumbled.

But as your head sank onto his lap, Ben chuckled softly, his amusement mingling with a strange, unfamiliar tenderness.

"Right now, you don't have a big mouth or that fucking attitude", he muttered to himself, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "You're actually kinda likeable".

He shifted slightly, careful not to wake you, his fingers brushing gently over your hair.

"Well, your pussy definitely is", he added under his breath, shaking his head in disbelief.

Despite himself, he couldn't help but feel a flicker of admiration for you. You had pushed him to his limits, met his intensity head-on, and somehow, you'd both come out of it changed.

He leaned back against the couch, his eyes drifting to the ceiling as he took a deep breath. The room was quiet now, the only sounds your soft, even breaths and the faint hum of the city outside. Ben's mind raced with thoughts and emotions he wasn't entirely prepared to face.

"Shit", he murmured, running a hand through his damp hair. "What the hell am I getting myself into?".

Despite the uncertainty, there was a part of him that welcomed the change, the unexpected connection that had formed between you. As he looked down at your peaceful, sleeping form, he couldn't help but feel a sense of protectiveness, a desire to see where this newfound bond would lead.

With a sigh, he settled back, allowing himself to relax for the first time in what felt like forever.

As he closed his eyes, the last thing he felt was the warmth of your body against his, the steady rhythm of your breaths a comforting reminder that, for now, you were both right where you needed to be.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰

-

Taglist: @blackcherrywhiskey @baby19sthings @suckitands33 @spnfamily-j2 @lyarr24 @deans-baby-momma @reignsboy19 @kawaii-arfid-memes @mekkencspony @lovziy @artemys-ackles @fitxgrld @libby99hb @lovelyvirtualperson @a-lil-pr1ncess @nancymcl @the-last-ry @spndeanwinchesterlvr @hobby27 @themarebarroww @kr804573 @impala67rollingthroughtown @deans-queen @deadlymistletoe @selfdestructionandrhum @utyblyn @winchesterwild78 @jackles010378 @chirazsstuff @foxyjwls007 @smoothdogsgirl @woooonau @whimsyfinny

[beejunos]

SINNERMAN | Alastor x f.reader | part 1.

Summary: After Sir Pentious's failed attempt at spying on the hotel, the Vees approach you to make a new deal—a deal that you can't refuse. Help them take down Alastor, and you will get to kill him again.

After all, the great butcher of New Orleans had killed your brother, so it was only fair that you had killed him in return. And you would love to do it again.

Tags: Alastor x f!reader, slow burn, obsessive behaviour, enemies to lovers, spying, murder

PART 1. | AO3 | PART 2.

Chapter 1. The Deal

The road to hell is paved with good intentions.

Hell was not just a place where souls who had done horrific things with pleasure went, but also with people who had done appalling things out of necessity. Murderers, thieves, abusers and, growing more in numbers every year, politicians - hell was not a place for the weak-minded, but sometimes a human could be pushed into such acts, not because they themselves were more inclined to such behaviour, but because circumstance could turn anyone into a bloodthirsty killer.

You were one of those people.

Condemned to Hell for an eternity for a crime that you still believed to be justifiable. After all, the great butcher of New Orleans killed your brother, so it was only fair that you killed him in return.

"I told you it was a bad idea to pick that idiot to spy on the hotel. Did you honestly think it would work?" said Velvet without looking up from her phone. She was typing something with rapid-fire as she blew a bubble with her pink gum. It made a big popping sound that seemed to echo in the living room, making Vox clench his fist so as not to destroy the desk again. They had just replaced the last desk after he had dug his claws into it and left deep and long marks in the wood, and he did not feel like getting yelled at again for ruining the decor.

Vox counted to ten slowly backwards before he turned around from the monitors to look at the short woman. She was sitting curled up on the sofa before him, dressed in luxurious loungewear with hearts all over it. Valentino was sitting stretched out right beside her, his arm casually on the backrest. He was on his phone as well and did not look up when Vox came closer, but Vox could see that he was also irritated by Velvet's comment from the slight twitching of his right eye.

"Well, Velvet, my dear," Vox said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “I don't remember you having a better idea, but please, if you do, share it with the group."

Vox stopped walking as he reached the sofa, hands behind his back, and leaned down in front of the female sinner to force her to look at him. He had never been good with others ignoring him, and Velvet was taking her sweet time finishing her text before she even looked up from her phone. When she met his eyes, electricity was firing between his antennas, filling the air with static noise.

She just sighed before she picked up her phone again and started typing.

"You picked an idiot; that's why your plan didn't work. Little Miss Sunshine will believe anyone; just pick a smarter spy next time," said Velvet in her heavy British accent, popping another bubble with her gum. Vox's irritation grew with every word she uttered, and for a moment, he entertained the thought of grabbing her phone and throwing it out the window.

"And who do you suggest we'll ask?"

It took Velvet a few more seconds of searching before she found a decent photo, and then she turned her phone and showed Vox who she had in mind. The photo was old and blurry, with its subject in the distance, but it was still possible to distinguish who was in the picture. Vox turned his piercing gaze from Velvet down to her phone and quickly stepped back.

"You can't be serious!"

"Who?" said Valentino, now interested, as Vox started to pace the room. Velvet turned her phone towards the moth demon, and he reared back in alarm. "Are you out of your fucking mind? Do you even know how expensive she is?"

"So what? If you want the job done well, then pay a fucking professional," stated Velvet as if it was apparent.

"Professional? She runs a PR firm! Glorified party whores. Why the fuck should she be the spy?" cried Valentino, throwing his arms in the air. The gesture would have made anyone in his studio flinch, waiting for an impact, but Velvet sat rooted in her seat. She was used to the man's physical displays of anger by now but never feared them since he would never dare lay a hand on her. She lifted one of her eyebrows and continued with her argument:

"Didn't you see the fucking joke of an interview the princess did on the news? The hotel has a serious marketing problem. Everyone thinks it's a joke! What if the princess had someone to help her with the marketing and networking? Someone she would trust wholeheartedly, and that person worked secretly for us? It would be the best fucking spy! Not a guest but a staff member who could manipulate everything from the inside. We would know everything. A staff member would also be with the princess all the time and could keep an eye out for Alastor to make sure that no deal is made!"

Valentino groaned loudly before throwing his phone on the coffee table. He knew that Velvet's argument was good; he just did not like how expensive it would become if they went with it. There was a reason only the top of the elite of hell hired this PR firm, and it wasn't just for the public relations part. Rumours were travelling around the underground networks that you also dealt with some shady businesses, but who weren’t in this town?

"Can't we just kill them ourselves? I still want to shoot someone," mumbled Valentino, knowing none of his partners would accept the idea.

"And what? Piss of Lucifer for attacking his daughter? We could just piss on our own graves instead! If we pay her, we know she will get the job done; after all, you've heard the rumours, right?"

"What rumours?" snarled Valentino, sinking deeper into the sofa. His night was now officially ruined.

"No one hates Alastor more than she does."

"Well, that's not new! Half the city hates the old-timey prick." Vox, who had been pacing back and forth deep in his thoughts, abruptly stopped and turned around to look at Velvet. He also highly doubted anyone could hate the radio demon more than he did, but that was beside the point.

"So, let's use that to our advantage," said Velvet, growing more frustrated by the minute, "She is bound to at least be interested in the job if we can convince her to take down Alastor with us."

It wasn't a dumb idea, which annoyed Vox the most. However, his desire to take down Alastor outweighed any concerns for costs. He was prepared to cut his own leg off with a rusty saw if it meant he could take down the demon that plagued his very existence.

Vox sighed and crossed his arms in front of him, effectively giving up on arguing against Velvet.

"Okay, how do we contact her?"

On the opposite side of the entertainment district, where the Vees residence was located, was a small part of the pride ring where the older architecture still stood. The sinners who lived there were usually the ones who had stayed in hell the longest, many of whom had lived during the 18th and 19th centuries. There were fewer flashing lights and billboards in this part of town, but that did not mean that the sinners who lived there were anti-technology—for the most part.

That was why you liked living in this part of Pride, being from the early 20th century yourself. There were no loud noises, and during the night, you would, on more occasions than not, get a good night's sleep. Compared to the entertainment district, where no one seemed to sleep ever.

Your PR firm was located on the top floor of an old Gothic Revival building in the centre of this district. With its intricate stone details and towering spires, the building could feel almost cluttered and overwhelming on the outside. However, the rooms were spacious and elegant, with large stained-glass windows that cast colourful lights throughout the building.

You loved your office building and its moody exterior and interior. It made you feel like a character in one of the gothic novels that you had only learned to appreciate after your death. You could also argue that the whole thing had been influenced by the fact that when you had died and woken up in hell, your soul had taken the form of a bat. Reminding you of the book Dracula that your mother had loved so much, but that was irrelevant.

Walking around dusty old stone buildings, surrounding yourself with heavy wooden furniture and thick dark fabrics worked much better with the wings, big pointy ears, claws, and razor-sharp teeth you had now.

You had tried in the beginning to surround yourself with things that reminded you of the time you had been alive, but as time ticked on and the years went by, you could not help but leave most of the 20s and 30s behind and welcome the new ages, and all their inventions and quirks, with somewhat open arms. Your youngest assistant, a young sinner named Claudine, who died at the age of 25 in 2015, talked a lot about how similar social media in hell was to when she was alive, but considering the things she liked to show you, social media was one of the inventions you did not have any interests in. Your people could handle it for you instead, and if the three overlords that had strolled into your office like they owned the building were running the biggest tech and social media company in pride, you would happily leave that responsibility to Claudine.

Vox, Velvet, and Valentino were indeed a sight to behold. A poor sight for you. Their fashion and colourful clothing clashed horribly with your moss-green couch.

It was always a satisfying experience to observe new customers arrive at your office. However, this time, you could not help but wish they would just leave.

You put down the silver tray you held, with all the teacups and the teapot, on your mahogany coffee table and sat in the armchair on the opposite side of the sofa. Slowly, you started to pour the tea from the pot into the small and thin teacups before handing the first to Velvet. 

"Suger?" you asked, opening the lid to the sugar bowl. 

"Yes, please," she said, putting two sugar cubes in her tea. The smaller sinner grabbed one of the tiny spoons before she started to stir her tea, making the spoon hit the side of the teacup. The clinking sound seemed to bounce around the room endlessly. She may not have the most refined manners, according to you, but you suspected that she was the one who had wanted to see you in the first place since she was the one who was behaving the best.

"I must say, I was quite surprised when my assistant said that the Vees were waiting in my office." You took one sip of your tea that had one sugar cube and a dash of milk in it. "It is not often that I get these types of unplanned visits unless someone is in dire need of their reputation being saved, and last time I checked, you three had your own PR team." 

"We are here because we are interested in your more niche skill sets." 

Now, that was far more interesting. You had a sense that the Vees were not here for what your company offered on the outside but more for what you could provide that was strictly off the records. 

You looked over at Vox, who had spoken. Waiting for him to continue. 

It did not take the sinner long to tell you their plan and why they had decided to contact you specifically. Hell was filled with sinners and demons who said they specialised in espionage or assassinations, and although they could get the job done, more often than not, these "professionals" would leave long traces of evidence behind, which didn't matter in the end since hell did not have any justice system to speak of, but if you wanted to be undetected, it wasn't the best solution. However, you took your job seriously and worked with the utmost discretion, which led to you now holding almost the same amount of power as any overlord in pride. The big difference between you and the other overlords was that your capabilities were mostly unknown, and that's how you wanted it. It made it easier for you to work in the shadows. To hunt and kill without anyone knowing they were being hunted.

Only two overlords, Carmilla Carmine and Zestial, knew of your strengths and often hired you to deal with others they did not have time for or wanted to make time for. Yet, if the Vees knew about this side of your work, that meant the information about your skill sets was being spread around a bit more frequently than you wanted it. But that didn't worry you too much since you could always have Claudine and Earl fix it in just a few days.

"That is not a small task you have asked of me. To take down another demon is one thing, but to take down an overlord? Who also works for the princess? Now, why would I ever do that?" 

"We're not asking you to take down the princess. Only Alastor," said Velvet, putting a hand on Vox's arm. The man had started leaning forward unconsciously, his fists closing up with every second. 

Alastor. There was no man on earth or in hell that you hated more, and you would gladly watch him bleed to death, forgotten and alone in the forest again. After all, he had killed your brother, so it was only fair that you had killed him in return. But things had changed. He now possessed a form of power that you had never seen in another sinner in all your years in hell, and it made you pause. You knew that as soon as he found out what you had done, he would avenge his death, and you were not sure that you would survive that. So you stayed in the shadows, bidding your time. 

"Either way, we are not asking you to take him down alone. We want you to ensure no deal is struck between that radio freak and the princess. Find his weaknesses and help us take him down." Vox had the sort of manic look about him that you only saw in souls who were consumed by their obsessions, making him unreliable and reckless. But a deal like this did not come to you often, the type of deal that made you believe that you could kill Alastor again, and you never looked a gift horse in the mouth.

"Very well, I will help you, but it will cost you. Five hundred souls."

"Dea-"

You did not let Vox finish before saying, "Each."

"Each? Bitch, are you out of your mind?" roared Valentino, who had been quiet up till now. Even if the other Vees did not start shouting like the moth daemon, they were equally shocked and angered by your demand.

"My prices have always been high. Take it or leave it." You looked over at Vox, staring him down. You knew he would be the first to crack and agree to your demands. Velvet may have been the driving force that had led the Vees to your office, but she was still too rational and would start to bargain with you. Vox would sooner or later let his obsession win, making him agree to your deal.

"Do we have a deal?" You reached out your hand to Vox, trying to corner him and push him into a contract with you.

Before Velvet or Valentino had the chance to stop him, Vox shot forward and took your hand, and as he uttered the words that would sign their contract, an eerie green light filled the room. Cracks travelled up the walls all around you as the howling of hunting dogs travelled with the wind that started to blow in the office. Large shadows of the hunting dogs began to grow on the walls, their red eyes fixing the Vees in their places and right as the dogs would pause and devour the sinners on your sofa, the green light dissolved, and all that was left was the four of you in your office.

"Always a pleasure doing business with new customers," you chuckled, letting your sinister smile dance on your lips.

[pickingupmymercedes]

Show me you care - Lewis Hamilton (NSFW)

SMUT - NSFW

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

warnings: unprotected sexual activities (p in v), brat Lewis

Also, wrap it before you tap it

wordcount: <1k

a/n: So, an anon send an ask to @a-moment-captured and it gave me ideas. I didn't really write Lewis as classic anger-ish pissed off, but as closed-off/ brat-ish frustated, hope that's okay. It's also a short one.

Wrote it in one go, so not really proofread

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

EXPLICIT CONTENT UNDER, -18 DO NOT INTERACT.

______________________________________________________________

Their laughs in the background irked you at all the wrong places, the banter, the photos, online comments they kept checking and laughing at made your blood boil. The whole weekend was frustrating, and sure they were trying to make the air less dense for everyone’s sake, but still, how unbothered the three of them acted was annoying to you.

“Hm… would you guys mind going to that food stall by the hospitality to get me a bowl of something? I could really use some food to get through this thing.” Your voice almost cracking mid-way through, eyes barely looking up from the computer as you reviewed the debrief that would make its way to the amg board back in Germany, your writing relaying how bad the weekend had gone, again.

“Sure… the usual?” Daniel asked already halfway through the door with a chatty Miles attached to him as you nodded and mouthed a thank you, looking back to the screen right after.

“Just write double dnf” Lewis’ voice full of sarcasm echoed in the dark and empty rooms of the almost empty garage.

“Okay, I’m done with the bullshit remarks. That’s not you… not anymore.” You closed the notebook in your laps, annoyance clear in your voice as you approached him seated at the sofa.

“What?!” A testing tone to his voice, he knew what you were talking about and it was almost as if he wanted you to bring it up. You sighted exasperatingly as you reach for his hand.

“Show me you care, Lewis.” Your eyes burned into his, daring him to avoid your demand, to show how the situation truly affected him.

“You don’t want that, love” His pupils got more dilated by the second, his breath hitching in his throat.

“I’m asking you to, show me how much you want this, because I know you do”

He flipped you around in a swift move, his breath now on your neck as one of his hands found their way to your throat while the other pulled you into his chest, his lips finding their way around the uncovered parts of your shoulders.

“I need this last win as much as I need to have you, right now”

The hoarse of his voice while his fingers fiddled with the bottom of your pants made the room grow muffed around you both, his lips leaving ghost like touches after they had left that spot. His heavy breathing mesmerizing as he found his way around your and his pants.

His hand circling around your panties until he put them to the side, his finger on your clit and entrance, your spine curving back almost on its own to feel his radiating warmth.

“You’re always so wet, so needy” He didn’t give you any warning when his dick first stretched you – or maybe he did but you didn’t really listen, too lost in his smell and the feel of his body, only really realizing he had you bent over when you felt the fabric under your stretched arms.

His member reaching painfully slow inside you as he kept going in until he bottomed. Your walls itched for any sort of movement but he kept a tight hold of your hips as you collapsed forwards to the sofa, his hands holding you by the waist as his face contorted in pleasure.

When he finally moved his pace was relentless, each thrust went deep enough to hit your cervix, each time you failed to suppress the moan that left your mouth. Your mind a delicious blank as the only thing that computed was how good he felt around your walls and that his grips on your waist was sure to leave marks.

It wasn’t long before his rhythm faltered, his knees almost buckling as his orgasm hit, holding up just enough to circle your clit for a few moments until you too exploded. Your vision going blank for a while, the only feeling was of his arms holding your back to his chest as his throat left a guttural moan when he pulled out from you.

“Don’t hide from me. I know you care” Your arms reached to his face when you turned into his embrace, his eyes softer now but with a tinge of hurt. His lips went to your forehead, a softness in how he held and moved in striking contrast to his grasp just a few minutes before, his arms engulfing you into his arms in the small sofa of the room.

His friends’ laughter got closer by the second until the lock on the door tried to turn while you and Lewis amusedly heard them call out for you two.

“Shh, let them wonder where we’re at.” He whispered by your head, kissing your head just as his arms held you down.

______________________________________________________________

TAGLIST - @saturnssunflower @xoscar03 @chocolatediplomatdreamerzonk

If you’d like to be added to my taglist you can leave a comment or send me a dm/ask.

[k2ntoss]

UNTITLED N°1 !! demon dean

(gif from pinterest, credits to the owner)

tw ⭒ minors dni, SMUT, dirty talk, dean x f!reader, did i already said this is demon dean shit???? i am vibrating on another level istg, fingering (f. receiving), sex toys (vibrator), spanking, oral (m. receiving), p in v, public space, unprotected sex, etc.

a/n ⭒ ian i swear i'll hunt you down for giving me ideas EVERY FUCKING DAY and yeah, implicit the fact of the lipgloss stuff i wrote for jason but a bit different here, it's 1 am and i'm going back home from a party so prob no proof read, shhhh

words count ⭒ 2.505 (at this point i don't even dream of doing something short)

dean was changed since the last time you saw him, right before he received the mark of cain and way before he turned into a damn demon, sam and you looked for him for days until you stumbled with him outside of a night club which wasn't the best situation to find the guy who was supposed to be your boyfriend, the one that once treated you like the most important thing on his life and now only thought of you as another one night stand.

and what are you doing at a night club? well, long night and almost no sleep so you decided to take baby for a ride and maybe look for dean and here you are, standing in front of him while you fight the urge to punch him right across the face when you notice the lipstick smudges he has all over his jaw and neck "you're fucking amazing, dean" the sarcasm that drips from your voice seems to amuse him, dean grins at you with arms crossed over his chest as he walks closer "looks like you can't remember you shouldn't take the things that don't belong to you, sweetheart" he ignores your annoyance completely, walking around you with heavy steps almost as if he was a predator and you were a sick little animal to hunt and torture.

"yeah? i couldn't care less, what the hell are you doing here?" right behind the club the parking lot is almost empty, the led lights drawing shades on your bodies and the muffled music being almost completely hushed by your voice "having fun, can't a man have fun with a bunch of pretty girls? or are you getting jealous?" he has always had a smart mouth but this time his words do hurt a little but they also fuel your anger "you're being an ass, dean" words come out as a growl, avoiding his question because he already knows the answer damn well, it doesn't take humanity to understand that she loved the dean she used to know and that this dean only made her remember him but here again, he couldn't care less about your feelings right now.

"and you're being a pain in the ass, darling" he'll reply once he's in front of you, a devilish smirk on his lips at the same time he leans in making your heart rush because even with dean being a demon there was still an ounce of the man you loved and that minimal part of him still wanted you and only you, it was enough for it to take over and make you notice the glimpse of desire he had, a growing need to press his lips on yours and pin you against the impala, the same one that has already been the place for a good amount of the times you've let yourself melt into each other's touch and oh, if the evil side of dean hasn't used those memories to get off to your vulnerable image when you tremble under your lover. the way he stands so close to you, how he looks at your lips and licks his owns makes you shiver, making your lips part before he gives into your dean's needs; his lips are over yours, a bruising kiss as his hands grip your waist roughly, his touch making you moan from the pain his hands inflicted on your flesh.

once he pulled back you were panting and dean was living for that, his hand ran until it was on your neck "i think i have something in mind that you could enjoy, i miss someone misses fucking you dumb..." he whispers while tilting your head up to make you look up at him, green eyes fixed on yours made feel hypnotized until the point you walked to the passenger seat as dean got behind the steering wheel, the sigh making you even more hungry because the way he drove always made things to you. dean made the engine roar, pulling into the road until you both were sure it was safe to start anything. dean leaned to your side, his arm going behind your sit until he was able to reach a small vibrator he had used before with you, one of your road adventures from the past "are you gonna be good for me?" his voice was filled with a hint of what felt like mischief but also that cockiness that was part of him, you knew that maybe this wasn't the best idea, you should be the one driving to take dean back to the bunker but you mind was full of the bunch of memories of your boyfriend's dick deep inside of you and that was enough to make you forget any other responsability for at least a while, it had been a good long time since the last time you had any kind of sexual interaction thanks to him so, why not take the chance? so you nodded at him, lips pressed in a thin line as you waited for his next move.

there's a smirk on dean's face as he drives single handled, twisting the small vibrator between his fingers, dropping it on your thigh while you shift on your seat "sit pretty and spread those pretty legs of yours for me" he orders simply and you obey, legs spread enough for him to reach with his hand, undoing your belt and buttons before he slides two fingers under your clothes, starting to caress you slowly, torturing he plays with your clit circling over it before he pinches it softly making you moan shamelessly "fuck, dean..." you mutter when one of your hands goes to grab his wrist to make him stop when his fingers circle a bit faster "oh, you're being a little killjoy" he taunts with a click of his tongue but he takes his hand off you to grab the toy, turning it on just to slide it until he's able to press it against your sensitive bud, the vibrations making you gasp and hold onto the leather seat "just as slutty as always, aren't you? bet you've been dreaming about being fucked by me a lot lately" words making you moan and buck your hips, your eyes fixed on his movements when dean takes his hand away again, fingers coated on your wetness which he licks while glacing at you, the action only making you squirm in need of his mouth on you "and also as sweet as always, mhm, i could pull over and eat your pussy but i have other things in mind... close your legs, baby, and don't even think you can cum before i say you can."

with your legs closed the vibrator was pressed a little harder on your clit, it makes you sigh and whimper in the five eternal minutes it takes dean to find a good place to pull over, behind a small bar. he opens the door, getting to the back seat and sitting there, legs spread and his arms across the back of the seat "aren't you gonna come here, baby?" he asks teasingly, of course he was asking you to walk yourself out of the car and to the back seat, shaky legs and overstimulated, cursing him on your mind but still growing needier so when you get off the car and open the back door you can't help but bite your lip when dean is there undoing his belt and taking it off slowly with his eyes glued to you "come here and lay on my lap, sweetheart" he takes your hand in his, pulling you in taking advantage of your weak legs to make you lay on his lap, tummy flat over the seat while your hips rest over his legs when he closes the door before his hand stops on your ass, stroking you softly as he started to pull your jeans down slowly exposing your silky panties, chuckling lowly at the sight of the wet spot between your legs where the vibrator was still making you squirm and moan "so fucking wet, mhm? thought you would be harder to break down... such a easy whore" dean's voice is as rough and low as all the times you've found yourself so needy and hot for him, the big difference was that right now he was indeed a big bad wolf about to eat you alive.

every thought was erased of your head as soon as you felt his belt comming down to hit your ass, making you moan as dean's free hand snaked between your thighs to pull off the vibrator "oh, the little girl enjoys being spanked? you have a pretty sick mind, huh, you like being treated as a slut?" another spank falls on your rear, making you squirm and hold back a loud whimper before you nod "i love it... when you treat me like that" you moan, your reaction brings a wide grin to his face as he lets the leather belt fall again on your ass, the red marks of it standing over your skin as a sing of the way it would bruise by the morning, fuel for dean to keep it up until your cheeks were all red, your hips up with your ass on the air and your eyes teary from how much you needed him "god... dean, please" you beg and he growls at your voice.

"down. on your knees" he is quick to command, making you kneel on the floor, sitting all pretty and obedient between his legs as he undoes his jeans, pulling them down with his boxers making your mouth water at how hard his dick was in front of you "open that pretty mouth of yours, i want to fuck your face" the amount of dirty words turning you, leaning in you place your hands on his thighs while your tongue runs over his lenght tasting him and moaning softly at the way dean is looking at you. the growl he lets out when your lips are wrapped around his tip is gutural, his left hand going to grab a handful of your hair while you suck on him, tiny licks on him that leave your lips shiny from his precum "never thought a slut could look as pretty as you, mhm, those lips all pretty and shiny for me" he says in a low and raspy tone before he pulls your head by your hair, pressing his cock between your lips to make you swallow him right before he starts to move you, his hands making you bob your head causing you to gag and choke. your eyes are closed but it doesn't stop a few tears from falling from your eyes while dean pushes his dick into your mouth, throat fucking you between growls and moans of pure pleasure, smirking each time you gag and chuckling when he lets you pull away to breath but it doesn't take you too much until you're again looking to put his dick into your mouth "oh, baby so hungry... a needy whore that loves choking on my cock"

you whine when dean pulls you away from him, his hand grips your hair to bring you back to his lap but this time he makes you sit with your back pressed against his chest "i need to fuck that sweet pussy of yours, sweetheart, wanna see you ride me like a fucktoy" he whispers into your ear before making you lean forward, your ass perfectly pressed against him and a nice view of your hips and waist when he lifts you up and pulls your panties to the side before pushing his dick inside your snug walls in a rough thrust "so damn thight... gonna make you scream, baby" dean growls while his hands hold your waist to urge you to start moving.

at first you're just grinding your hips against his, feeling his dick moving inside of you in a way that made you moan softly but the need building inside your tummy made your movements change into quick and sloppy hops while you held yourself on the front seats, tits bouncing and your ass slapping against his body "that's a good bunny, fucking yourself on my cock like a good slut" a low moan escapes his lips and his hands are sliding under your black top, lifting the fabric until his hands are squeezing your breasts "you know how i love it when you're not wearing anything under your shirts? love this perfect tits of yours" you moan when his fingers are toying with your nipples at the same time he decides to move his hips to meet your movements, making him reach deeper inside of you.

anyone who came out of the bar sober enough could see what was going out inside of the impala, the sight of you bouncing with your eyes closed and mouth open as you moaned loudly enough to be heard if someone came closer to the car, it only turned you on more and it showed in the way your pussy clenched around dean like a vice, his strokes only going faster and harder when your legs started to fail you to keep on bouncing on him "who would have thought you would like to be seen getting fucked like a whore, mhm, you enjoy the way everyone knows you're getting dicked down so good, baby?" and you nod, your moans making it hard for you to speak properly, dean is laughing at you and it's humillating but it also makes you hornier "dean... i need to cum, please" your pleas are met with a hard squeeze on your tits and a hard thrust "really, bunny?" he asks with a smirk, hands back on your waist before he leans in to press a kiss on your back "do it, baby, cum all over my cock" and it takes you nothing, your pussy is squeezing him hard making a dark growl escape him and you're about to ask him to fill you up when dean lifts you, sitting you on his lap " 'm not filling your greedy pussy, love, not like you deserve it" he grunts, his hand around his dick as he strokes himself.

dean growls behind you, he's fisting his cock and moving his hand using your wetness to make his task easier and the lewd sounds make you eager to feel his hot load wherever he wants to put it on you "mhm, want me to cum on your dirty body, slut?" he asks with a smirk as his hand slows down for a bit "yes, please..." you say softly and it's the only thing dean needs before he cums behind you, white streaks painting your back and ass as he bites your shoulder harshly "there you go, huh... such a nasty whore" dean mutters on your neck, kissing your skin and nibbling on it "the best fuck i've had lately"

[ohsohoney]

When it comes to love you're just as blinded.

Part Eight

Eminem x Musician

Summary: It starts with a drunk embarrassing video, it spirals into something a whole lot more.

Note: A real long one. Honestly don't know how I did it but it was one session and now I'm dead, hopefully it's good enough! Lots of cuteness though and another snippet with Danny! Be warned cake mix is too baking. So :)

| Set in 2014, just after the release of LP 2

taglist: @thelastemzy

Masterlist

“This is a bad idea, right?”

“Oh, for sure.”

“Marsh.” I admonished, sighing as I rolled my head to the left to level him with a long look before my eyes eventually wandered back on over to the store’s front. 

“What? You said it.” Marshall chuckled lowly, hands interlocked in his lap. 

We were currently sat in the car park of a Trader Joe's, in a spot at a roundabout the midway mark. I hadn’t thought too much of the ask during my sudden excitement to roam around a grocery store I’d yet to see (What? I was showing my age. Bite me.). But it was now hitting me at full force.

“Why’d you say yes anyway?” I was quick to shoot back at him, voice a tad bit strained. I shook my head and eventually resolved into brushing the whole idea away, “Let’s just forget it.”

A scoff and Marshall was rolling his eyes at the notion, “We’re already here. No point in leavin’ now.”

“We didn’t think this through though. I mean, what if somebody spots us?” I pointed out, gaze already surveying the mostly empty parking lot for the next potential pap. 

“You make it out like we’re about to case the joint,” Em snorted, earning a wry smile off of me in retort, a reaction I couldn’t quite help. “Said you wanted to bake a cake, so we gonna. ‘Cause I’ll let you know now, I ain’t got the shit to make this back at the house.”

I blew a soft breath from out of my nose, vaguely amused. “No shit.” I replied, unable to imagine the man in a frilly pink apron and covered in flour on a casual Tuesday afternoon. I ended up sighing again anyway, “You sure? I mean, I could just run in.”

Marshall was already shaking his head at me, “Nah, it’ll be fine. If you really that worried you can take my cap. Or think I got another hoodie in the trunk.”

Blinking, I was unable to say much else before Em was hopping out and rounding the car to pull apart the contents of his boot. He muttered away, mostly to himself, before he returned a couple of moments later, standing by the driver’s door with an oversized hoodie in his hand. He held it out towards me and I found myself taking it with a gentle smile in thanks. 

It didn’t take long for me to tug the jumper on over my head, the hood messing up my hair and catching on the seat belt before I had the commonsense to just unbuckle the stupid thing. Marshall watched the struggle with a mirthful smirk, the silver watch on his wrist glinting in the sunlight from where it rested against the edge of the door, until he eventually moved to close it, cropping up outside of the passenger’s side a second later. He tugged on the handle and I blinked over at him when a gust of wind washed over me.

I guessed I must have looked a tad bit pathetic as I turned in my seat to face him, legs moving to dangle out the side of the car, or at least it felt that way, what with how Marshall’s expression had since settled into something almost akin to fondness. 

My nose wrinkled just as he let go of a soft laugh. It was a sound I found myself feeling a hint of pride about whenever I heard it, even if it meant that I was the victim of the current joke.

“Here, let me.” He spoke, already reaching out to fix my hood and to brush a tangled strand of hair behind my ear. If he heard the way my breath hitched at the sudden motion he didn’t mention it, but I witnessed how his keen eyes flickered back and forth between my own. “There. Screams incognito.”

Snorting at the heavy use of sarcasm, I smiled up at him, only to notice then how he’d crowded himself between my legs to help aid me. My stomach swooped at the realisation and I swallowed thickly, but before I could question the feeling, Marshall was stepping away again, sporting a wry grin of his own.

“Need my hat, Kim Possible? Or you good?”

Rolling my eyes, I shuffled further forward in my seat to jump out of the SUV, feet hitting the gravel with an audible scuff. “She doesn’t wear a hat and even if she did, I doubt it’d be Kangol.” I retorted, slipping by him to reach out and shut the door. 

“Aye, what’s wrong with my cap?” Marshall prodded as the headlights flashed behind us to signal the car locking. I noticed how his brow had wrinkled at the slight when I looked over at him and so I nudged my shoulder with his as we walked across the lot. 

“Nothing.” I claimed with a growing smile, reaching up to knock the brim of his hat just as we made it to the entrance. “Suits you.”

Marshall hummed a sound that was vaguely disbelieving, eyes lingering on me before he turned to pick up a basket. “Know what you need?”

“Sort of.” I replied distractedly, trying to take everything in. “This place is like every Hallmark movie I’ve ever seen come to life.”

“The fuck?”

Rolling my eyes, I just continued on, walking past Marshall, who’d since paused to shoot a bewildered glance my way, and towards a horde of fruit and veg stalls. “It’s just so fuckin’ American. Back home the closest place you’d get to this is a Big Tesco’s and even that’s like a standard food shop. This. It’s something straight out of one of them films.”

“It’s Trader Joe’s.” Marshall deadpanned, blinking back at me now with an expression that just had me cracking up.

“Stop making me feel dumb.” I rebuked lightly, head darting every which way as he slid on over to catch up to me before he then barrelled straight past. I let him lead, figuring he’d be better off knowing where everything could possibly be more than I ever would. “It’s just a big change, ‘s all.”

His cheek twitched with the beginnings of a smirk. “Everything's a big change with you.”

I poked his side in retaliation, pleased when he bristled but didn’t comment further on it. “Where do you reckon cake mix would be then?” I wondered out loud, peering around the aisle we were headed down. Honestly, cereals galore. Captain Crunch, Coco Pops, Cinnamon Toast Crunch… And those were just the C’s. Hang on a second, Eggo’s?

“Cake mix?” Em questioned me, flicking a raised brow my way and tugging me from my observations, “Bitch, I thought you was bakin’.”

Snorting, I couldn’t do much other than shrug. “It is baking!” I attempted to defend, but he was having none of it, shaking his head mockingly back at me. “Just the easier version?” I attempted to argue sheepishly.

I was rewarded with a soft tut, but Marshall did in fact then tilt his head over towards the right to signal where he figured the box mixes might be, “Cheat.”

Giving into the childish urge, I poked my tongue out at him and dipped around the next corner, smiling at the way his low humoured huff followed after me. It was only when I saw an all too extensive stock of baking goods parked up ahead that I quickened my pace, leaving him to trail behind.

“What do you reckon then, red velvet or vanilla? You sort of seem like a vanilla guy.” I commented when he finally caught up, gaze flitting between the two cake mixes I’d since picked up off the shelf before my eyes then darted over to meet his teasingly as he approached.

He kissed his teeth and batted the box of vanilla I held away from his view, rolling his eyes even though we both could see that he was trying to withhold another grin. I allowed the motion. “You don’t know me at all.” Marshall scoffed, getting in my space once more today to make a grab for a box sitting on the shelf just above my head. “All about the chocolate, sweetheart.”

Biting my tongue, I worked hard to keep my face from giving way to how the proximity seemed to make my skin prickle. His eyes found mine though as he held the winning mix up between the two of us. I swiped it from his hold, scanning over the necessary ingredients to keep myself from focusing too much on– whatever it was I was feeling. “Hm, only need to add eggs and milk. Could deck this out though.”

“Whatchu thinkin’?” Em asked me in that way he usually did, like he was genuinely invested in everything I had to say. He’d propped his forearm up on the shelf as he waited for me to weigh in and my stare tracked its way up from the back of the box to roam over the steady way he was now watching me. I reached up to tuck another fallen strand of hair behind my ear, the hood making the typically effortless action that much harder. 

“A shit ton of chocolate?” I proposed with a raised brow. 

“That mean you gone put my kid to sleep then?” He said, then snickered at my sudden change in expression, the corner of his lip tugging upwards. “Z will be bouncin’ off the walls.”

“It’ll be portioned!” I rebuted in the face of his amusement, quick to fall back on all my so-called years of parenting, “She’ll be fine!”

Marshall snorted in retort but appeared to relent, pinching the cake mix from my hand and throwing it into the basket haphazardly, “I’ll be sure to bring this moment back up when I’m right.” He added before he took off, probably in search of the confectionary aisle. 

But see, since knowing the man, I’d long since come to realise that he had a big enough sweet tooth that could rival that of my own, meaning that all this posturing back and forth about decking out the cake was just a facade of sorts, him attempting to put my neck on the line for when the fallout eventually happened. I couldn't bring myself to mind though, not when he was wearing that stupid smug smile and not even when he ended up tossing a majority of the chocolate we’d collected into the basket. 

I ended up grinning all the way back to the car.

“See! It was well worth it now, don’t you reckon?” I said with a sardonic smile, covered in cake mix, egg and frosting, my dirtied hands settled on my hips as I stared down at the hazardous cake we’d gone and created.

My head tilted just so, allowing myself to look at it from a normal perspective seeing as it had somehow managed to slant far left whilst it’d been baking in the oven. But I blamed Em for that one, the idiot having set the temperature up way too high.

“What, so we can cover up the monstrosity?” Marshall shot back at me from where he was stood by the kitchen sink, washing his hands free of all the frosting he’d been licking from the bowl moments before I’d stolen it out from under him. “Yeah, but you know what they say, a pig in lipstick is still a pig.”

Haughtily, I spun around on my heel just enough for my hip to press against the counter and for my eyes to hone in on him. I smirked, “Saying’s actually, a hog in armour is still but a hog.”

“Same fuckin’ thing.” Marshall admonished in a grunt, flicking his sopping wet hands out at me when he pulled away from the sink in search of something to dry them with. I tensed at the attack, feeling the splatter hit me before I peered down to spot a couple soup duds clinging to my arm and the collar of my top. He just chuckled, greatly amused.

“Dick.” I huffed and picked up an M&M from the bowl I’d just poured the bag into to toss back at him in retaliation.

Irritatingly, Marshall managed to snap the treat up out of the air with ease, pushing the blue ball forward on his tongue to flash it tauntingly between his teeth before he finally chewed on it. The crunch resonated in the quiet hum of the house. “You were sayin’?”

I narrowed my eyes, “Show off.” 

But all that did was earn me another light laugh, Em sliding on closer to pinch a few more from the same bowl. “I’m just that good.” He retorted egotistically, before he turned to level me with the last M&M he held, titling his chin ever so slightly to goad me into trying to catch one myself.

Relenting to the fight all too easily, I braced myself in a steady stance and waited. When he tossed it, I managed to extend my neck near enough that I was close to capturing the colourful sweet, but just not close enough, my nose scrunched in annoyance when it bounced off the side of my cheek and onto the counter with a clatter. “Fuck.” I sighed, but not one to be outdone I looked towards him again, “Again.”

He raised a single brow at the demand but followed, picking up another handful and smiling as he prepared to pelt them my way one by one. It was something we continued on with for a short while, tossing the things back and forth between us as we tallied up a score, he was winning of course, but surprisingly I wasn’t too far behind, which actually eased the loss a fair bit. 

We were actually at it long enough that we’d begun to squabble, calling one another a cheat, aiming for anything other than our mouths, even going as far as to switch up tactics by propping ourselves up on counters and barstools to annoy the other, before then crouching down as low as we could on Marshall’s tiled floors. It was there that we were eventually found.

Marshall spotted her first, arm already propped up before him and preparing to aim when his eyes shifted over to the left and caught sight of something standing in the kitchen doorway. His grin wobbled in further amusement, most likely due to the face I’d gone and pulled when I followed his line of sight, still stuck in my current position; squatting by the backdoor. 

We were trying for a record, okay?

“Hey creep, what’s with the face?” Marshall greeted, his laughter carrying throughout the room when he finally tossed the chocolate treat my way only for it to actually make it into my mouth this time around, hitting the roof and sending my startled frown into a gasping smile. 

Rosie was stood there, just off to the side by the counter now, seemingly content to simply watch us with a soft, goading smile on her face, her school bag settled by her feet. She shrugged, glancing over at her dad whilst I bounced on back to where I’d left Em to guard our semi-completed cake. “Nice to come home to noise, is all.”

The tip of Marshall’s nose did something odd then, a reaction to the words that went unnoticed by the girl, but he continued on smiling, dropping the few remaining M&M’s he held back into the packet we’d opened once the bowl had run dry. 

“Didn’t hear you come in.” He mentioned as he rounded the counter to pull his daughter into a hug, steering her away from the onslaught of chocolate that littered the side when Rosie attempted to make a grab for the nearest share-pack of Hershey’s Kisses. “Nuh-uh. Dinner first, kid, then we can talk about you gettin’ a slice of our masterpiece.”

“Masterpiece?” Rosie’s eyes widened as she gifted the two of us a disbelieving snort, gaze jumping back between her dad and me, I narrowed my eyes playfully in retort whilst Marshall settled for poking her dimpled cheek. “It looks like the Leaning Tower of Pisa.”

“Hey!” I chided, just as Marshall responded with, “What we were aimin’ for.”

The pair of us shared a mirthful look before we both started cracking up, Rosie merely shook her head at our antics but it was with the distraction that she finally managed to grab a wrapped Kiss. My eyes widened at the flash of silver I caught sight of just as she darted around the island to escape Em’s outstretched arms when he caught on too, crowding into my side when he shot her a long look, obviously hoping to put her off eating the treat. But it was already unwrapped and on her tongue before I could even blink back down at her. 

I snorted, forever amused by the duo’s antics, and ran a hand over the girl’s plaited scalp. “Snooze you lose, Mathers.” I said encouragingly with a lazy shrug.

Z grinned at the show of support and sent a smug look back at her father, baring her chocolate covered teeth to him. Marshall leant forward so that his palms could press against the countertop and levelled the two of us with another long look, only this one was out of exasperation.

Rosie and I shared a glance of anticipation before we both turned back to face him with a matching set of innocent smiles, Rosie doing a much better job than me seeing as she could work that whole doe eyed perspective. Em heaved a hefty sigh. “Dinner, then cake. Cool?”

The girl beamed and was quick to nod her assent, squeezing my waist in what must have been a delayed embrace of hello, or maybe thanks, before she took a moment to assess our handy work. The cake was sparsely decorated, topped with a plethora of icing, at Marshall’s demand, and scattered with pieces of chocolate that we’d managed to stick on during our M&M disaster. I grimaced a tad whilst Em just looked on in pride.

“This is what you did whilst I was at school?” Z asked, dipping down to get a closer look at the disaster we dubbed a cake. Her expression truly was hilarious when she slowly stood again to dart a quizzical look between us.

“What d’you mean ‘this’?” Marshall answered her, raising a brow high enough to rival his daughter's own. “This is where hard work gets you.”

“Yeah,” I laughed, only adding fuel to the fire with my next comment, “Besides, we made it just for you. Don’t you like it?” I asked teasingly, batting my eyes over at her in hopes to see her crumble just a tad. 

Rosie looked back at the sad excuse of a cake and didn’t falter, “Cake is cake. But next time you guys should probably wait for me.”

“Oh, ‘cause you’re such a chef.” Marshall smirked, having moved to join us on the other side of the island to allow his eyes to roam over the tilting structure, he shucked Z’s chin in addition which only earnt him a prod to his bicep.

“A baker, actually.” Rosie corrected with a smile, ever so pleased with herself.

“Oo,” Em dragged out, taking a stripe of frosting off the cake’s side just so that he could wipe it across the tip of the kid’s nose. “She’s a smartass, too.”

Rosie’s eyes widened in alarm to the smear and her jaw dropped as she gasped, not having anticipated the move. “Dollar!” She exclaimed in turn, wiping the chocolate off her nose before smearing it down her dad’s front.

With a roll of his eyes, Marshall huffed but it was more of a chuckle than an actual sigh as he looked back up from his ruined tee. “Touche.” They shared a laugh as Em went to grab a kitchen towel to wipe his hands clean with, “Go ‘n grab my wallet.” He told her and I watched on as Z did exactly that, swiping a green bill from its contents so that she could go and stuff it in the jar.

I shook my head ever so at the dynamic they made, continuing to smile as Marshall dropped the tissue he’d just been using into the bin before he made a grab for his daughter, causing her to jump and laugh as they tumbled about the kitchen together. I was perfectly content to watch on, slowly packing away the ingredients we had yet to use whilst wiping down the sides, the pair of them eased up after a minute or two, making their way back to the island, Marshall still defending our chocolate monstrosity.

“It’ll taste good, so who cares what it looks like?”

“Most people, Dad.” Rosie countered with a sly smile as she settled onto a barstool, handing over a frosting covered spoon that had apparently strayed during our decorating. I smiled softly in thanks, grabbing the other utensils that littered the space and crossing the floor to wash up.

“I got that.” Marshall assured me, hip checking my side before I could even reach for the dish soap. 

My forehead wrinkled, “I don’t mind.”

He smiled in return, already moving to further roll up his sleeves, “I know, but I got it.”

I let it go, knowing when to pick and choose my fights with him now, and instead wandered back to see if I could make the cake work, picking up a couple of Whoppers that were supposedly meant to be the equivalent of a Maltesers, but I just couldn’t taste it. 

“Can I help?” Rosie asked after a moment, capturing my attention when she sidled up to join me.

“‘Course,” I replied easily, already handing over the bag, “I think if we just cover it with as much chocolate as we can it’ll look…”

“Better than it does?” Z finished for me, her giggles spilling from her lips seamlessly whilst she began to dot Whoppers around the rim of the highest tier.

“Hey, it’s not that bad.” I tried, nudging her elbow with mine, but ended up chuckling too. “It was your dad’s fault anyway, all my previous cakes have turned out perfect.”

“I can still hear you.” Marshall’s voice cut in from behind us, garnering our focus for a split second before I waved him off.

“Yeah, yeah. Just letting Z here know I’m not to blame.” I told him, scattering the remaining M&M’s we had to spare over the top, managing to cover up some of the frosting we’d gone and butchered with a colourful swirl. Rosie snickered, having since switched up with her choice of chocolate so that she could place a few Kisses to the lower layers.

“I was just followin’ your instructions.” Em argued with me, the huff that followed was evident.

“Not well!”

A giggle had me smiling down at Rosie, who was happy enough to let her gaze drift between the two of us. “I bet it still tastes good.” She interrupted, trying to soothe her father’s bruised ego probably. But it was sweet enough to have me agreeing.

“Yeah, I mean who doesn't like chocolate?”

–

Dinner was apparently a Mathers Household classic. Spagbol. Or well just spaghetti to these lot. Something I hadn’t been able to let slide what with me being a fan. Though Marshall seemed amused rather than put off by my attempts at rapping the opening to Lose Yourself whilst he’d cooked, something which earnt me points with Rosie seeing as she could spit it far better than the composer himself.

It was sort of strange to be a witness to him doing such a mundane task like cooking though, but I enjoyed it all the same, watching him talk with Rosie about school as he drained the pasta and added a couple of herbs to the ground mince. An odd sense of privilege came with the slight peak into his daily life, figuring that most would have just expected him to have a live-in chef or a plethora of meals waiting to be reheated in his fridge. But no, Marshall appeared to actually enjoy the activity, enjoy the hush of music that played overhead whilst the steam from a boiling pot simmered under his steady hand, enjoy how slowly the process came together so that he could boss Rosie and I into setting the table when the food was almost ready. 

Rosie had led me into the dining room they used, a room more intimate than the larger one the man had shown me during his grand tour, obviously used for when he had more than just one person over. As I set down a couple placemats, I guessed it was a room that only he and Rosie typically got use out of, the table circular and just large enough so that you had your own space but could easily be roped into another’s. It reminded me of the one we’d had as a kid, wooden, small and quaint, but that had been before one of mum’s boyfriends had fallen through it.

“You okay?” Rosie’s questioning broke me from my thoughts and I looked up to find her settling a fork down onto the mat opposite.

I blinked and then smiled, feeling how easy the gesture came to me. “Just lost in thought.”

She smiled too, hers crinkling the corners of her eyes as she finished setting up by dropping the last spoon down. “It’s nice having you here, you know. Sometimes it’s quiet just me and Dad, even when Ayla comes over.” She remarked, mentioning her older sister with the kind of sincerity that you only really held for your siblings, “You make him laugh, too. Like a lot.”

Blowing out a soft breath that sounded more like a chuckle, I reached out to fix a placemat that was a tad bit crooked, finding it simpler to focus on the small task rather than what the meaning behind Rosie’s words might possibly mean. “He makes me laugh too.” I replied and shot her a slight grin, it was then that Marshall emerged carrying two plates.

“And voila.” The man said as he set the dishes down, butchering the French word enough to have me hiding an indulgent smile.

“Smells good.” I commented, watching as a plethora of steam erupted up off the mountain shaped plate of spaghetti. 

Em flashed me a bright grin, an actual one with teeth that had my mind short circuiting for a split second before he was speaking again, “Lemme grab the last one. You want some drinks?”

Rosie, who had already settled into the seat she’d been standing behind, nodded eagerly in answer, “Soda?” When she received a single brow in retort, she giggled and relented, “Juice, please.”

Smiling at the exchange, I was only caught a little off guard when I looked back at Marshall to find him waiting on my own reply, I silently scrambled for an answer, “Um, just water, please.” I said and he gave a dip of his chin to show he’d heard before he turned to head back to the kitchen. “Want help?” I called out, just managing to catch him before he slipped past the hall.

He looked ready to wave the offer off, before he thought about it. Three drinks and a single plate was easy work for a girl who’d worked a majority of her teens in pub restaurants and the like, but Marshall seemed to realise the slight struggle he might face. “Sure.”

As easy as that. Or so it only appeared, because from the expression that clouded Rosie’s face when I glanced back over to shoot her a quick smile, the exchange seemed to have perplexed her ever so. 

Em had already continued on his route to the kitchen when I looked back to him, hoping to catch something in his answer to the face she’d pulled, but it seemed he hadn't been witness to it at all. “You okay?” I found myself asking, mimicking Z’s earlier question.

She looked a little startled when her eyes flew up to find mine, before she blinked and blew out a gentle laugh. “Didn’t think he’d go down without a fight.”

And oh. I had to chuckle a little at that too, having seen the way he’d been so prepared to deny the help just before he’d nodded. It made me wonder how much she’d bared witness to throughout the years. Em was strong, yes, but he also had a stubborn streak a mile long. 

“What can I say, Z?” I sighed dramatically as I headed towards the door, “I just have a way with people.”

Her cheeky grin was the last thing I saw before I was padding around the corner and then into the kitchen, finding Em stood by the counter with a bowl of grated cheese and the drinks we’d asked for already waiting to be picked up again. 

I snorted softly at the picture he painted, a handful of the shredded cheese halfway to his mouth and face only a tad bit surprised. He flipped me off as I came around to take hold of the drinks, only furthering my amusement. 

“I mean, what an appetiser.” I teased, the words followed by a bout of giggles when he flicked the remnants at me. Thankfully though, most of the cheese only made it about halfway over the countertop, causing my grin to widen that much more.

Marshall went to pick up another load and so I squeaked, grabbing the drinks and darting back out of the room before he could toss it at me.

I was chuckling away to myself by the time I made it back to the table, Rosie having already started in on her dinner, the dead giveaway being the slight red smear of sauce that stained her lower lip even as she pretended that she’d just been waiting patiently for us to return. 

I wiped the corner of my own mouth after settling down her juice in an attempt to warn her and watched as her eyes widened before she cleared the smear away with the back of her hand, the action seemingly saving her from another one of Em’s disapproving looks because not a second Marshall reappeared.

Taking to my seat in an attempt to hide my slight smile, I thanked him for the food, to which the man merely rolled his eyes, ignoring the gratitude altogether. I bit down on my smirk and instead opted for shaking my head as I picked up my fork.

The food was honest to God some of the best I’d had in a long while, whether it was down to it having been ages since someone had cooked a proper homemade meal for me or just him having mastered the art of the dish, I didn’t know. But I made sure to tell him.

Never in all my life would I have expected to have been a witness, let alone the cause of the light flush that coloured the tips of his ears. But it was impossibly endearing, so much so that I refrained from playfully mocking him for it. Rosie though, had no such qualms. “You look a little red, Dad. You gettin’ sick?”

If Marshall could have he would have scowled at the ask, but this was his baby and so I knew that the smile he gifted her as he turned was levelled with a strained edge. “Fine.”

I snorted quietly, but from the way the flush dropped to the back of Em’s neck it seemed he’d heard it all the same. 

Cake followed dinner, as promised. And to my surprise it hadn’t tasted half bad. The chocolate frosting wasn’t all it was cut out to be, not much of a shock seeing as I was alright with it in small doses but even my cupcakes lost their tops nine times out of ten, so Em was gifted the majority of it, something he seemed both pleased and a little guilty about, probably down to the excess amount of sugar. Still he worked his way through it, the three of us talking about Rosie’s day and then our own, leaving out the more exciting details as to not make her feel left out, before we all started packing away.

“Told you so.” Em commented when we’d loaded the dishwasher and wiped the sides free of cheese, his gaze was trained on his daughter, who appeared to be talking a mile a minute about the movie her and her friends had watched at their last sleepover whilst bouncing from foot to foot.

Ah, the inevitable sugar rush. I turned my face away to hide my growing smile before I lifted a shoulder in a small shrug. “It’ll die down soon enough, might even make it easier for her to fall asleep.” I murmured, passing him a tea towel that he used to dry his hands.

With a grunt that was more an amused hum, Marshall paused by the counter and waited for Rosie to take a breath before he cut in, “You got homework?”

The girl seemed to think about it, eyes flitting to the ceiling as though she could see the inside of her brain and was set about working her way through a catalogue there, before dropping her gaze back to him and shaking her head. “No, but I did promise Sara I’d call her tonight.” At her father’s expecting look, she tacked on, “If you said it was okay, obviously.”

“Obviously.” Marshall blew out a soft chuckle, lips quirking ever so before he waved the kid off, tossing the tea towel over his shoulder. “Go on, just not too late, yeah?”

“Promise!” She grinned, darting around the kitchen to knock into his side, arms encasing his torso in a brief hug before she jumped to do the same to me. I barely had time to wrap my arms back around her before she was darting away again, this time headed for the stairs after stealing yet another Hershey’s Kiss from the last of the cake we’d yet to hide away. 

“Z!” Was the only scold she heard before she was gone from sight, leaving only a trail of laughter behind her. 

I snorted too, shaking my head mirthfully whilst I worked my way around the kitchen counter to place a cover over the cake slices and putting them up out of reach.

“Kid’s gonna be the death of me.” Marshall added in a low sigh, still staring off after his daughter before he cracked a soft smile, eyes then flitting over to meet mine. “Best pray the sugar wears off quick.”

I widened my eyes in jest to his warning, but paid it no real mind, knowing he was only being stupid. “Dinner really was good, you know.” I mentioned it again, mainly just to see if I could provoke the same flush from earlier, but also so he knew I meant it. “Where’d you learn to cook like that?”

To my pleasure the tiniest hue could be made out from across the island, but Marshall hid it all too easily with a calculated tilt of his head. He shrugged softly when he answered me, “Know how it is, sort of had to provide for myself for a long while. Mom wasn’t always around when I was a kid, Nate grew up and relied on me most nights, then when I was out in LA tryna make it big, was skimming money off the top of the odd jobs I worked jus’ so I could eat and send some back home.” He levelled me with another look then, palms coming to rest on the countertop, “Sort of enjoyed it, I guess. After a while, just helped me escape.”

I nodded slowly in understanding. Before I could say anything though, the silence the kitchen had gotten swept up in was quickly broken by the sound of my phone.

Jumping at the ring, I blinked out of the dazed staring match I hadn't even realised I’d been a part of with Em before looking around to try and spot the last place I’d left it. Marshall picked it up and handed it over with a sly smirk, having caught on to my short term memory. 

“Thanks.” I breathed out in appreciation and then looked down to see who it was that was calling, my grin grew. “It’s Danny.” I let slip to Marshall before hurrying to pick up the call, “Hey stranger!” I greeted the second the line connected, surprised to note that the signal wasn’t as shitty as it usually was.

“Oh, it’s you.” Came my brother’s short reply as though he hadn’t expected exactly that, his face cropping into view from where he perched on a lower bunk, all tanned from the Cyprus sun. 

I let my eyes fall into a narrowed glare, “Know you’ve always been short of two brain cells, but who did you really expect to fuckin’ see when callin’ me?”

Danny’s smirk came into full focus before he was grinning away, stare jumping away from the camera for a brief moment before it darted back. “Love you, too.” He chided halfheartedly and with a slight tut, leaning forward to rest his forearms against his knees whilst I moved to settle my phone down onto the kitchen counter, “Just figured I’d give you a bell whilst I had some time, that so hard to believe?”

Even when rolling my eyes, I couldn't dampen my smile. “Yeah, it is.” I chuckled, taking in the background and anything else I could, “You at camp?”

He hummed around a nod, looking off to the side probably to get a feel for what I was seeing. “Told you, din’t I? At a base here for a couple weeks, doin’ some more trainin’ for the deployment followin’ my leave.”

“Well, you mentioned the first half.” I acknowledged, but wasn’t surprised. Danny always tended to stick to the most basic of explanations, such as the time he’d gone away with his mates to a festival for a weekend and said he was on his way back– failed to mention that it was a days fucking trip though.

The twat just waved me off, “Exactly. Anyway, what you up to, where you at?” He came in a little closer then to the screen as though he was attempting to look behind my head. “Not still in New York are ya? Thought you’d want shot of ‘em by now, all them Americans.”

Snorting and casting a chance glance up, I found Marshall by the sink, rinsing the few glasses we’d used earlier, he shot an unimpressed brow my way. “Not in New York, no. But still in The States, with said Americans.” I answered him, shaking my head at the way his lips pursed in a low hum, “So be careful, there are big ears listening in.” I also remarked, thinking back to Drew’s nickname for Em.

“Aye.” The man mentioned then warned, having since finished by the sink so that he could now point a warning finger my way, I rolled my eyes but my smirk was far too playful. 

Danny’s voice dragged back my attention to how he had since crowded in closer in an stupid attempt to see through the screen and into the kitchen. “Oi, who’s that? Don’t tell me I was spot on with the mystery man, El! Shit!”

The reminder of Dan’s earlier words the night before I’d met Em had me flushing slightly and immediately my traitorous gaze shifted over towards the man himself, who seemed far too amused as he slid on closer. “Fuck off, Danny.”

The twat only laughed though, all too happy with my reaction it seemed. “Ah, come on! Lemme meet him, just wanna say ‘ello!”

I pressed my lips together to keep the biting words which lined my tongue from springing forth, could always trust your own flesh and blood to turn on you at the drop of a hat. The traitor. “Fuck off.” I repeated, but my words lacked any real heat when Marshall rocked into the side of me to catch a quick peek of Danny’s glinting eyes.

My brother paused as he took in the sudden newcomer and his face was a right picture when he started to stumble over his next sentence, “Ah– right, hang on. Fuckin’ what?”

Unable to help myself, I laughed freely, feeling a little euphoric now that I was no longer on the end of all his ribbing. Em seemed to get a kick out of it too, even now that he was no longer in view he was still close by, smirking at both Danny and I’s reactions.

“Elia!” Danny called hotly, eyes wide as they flickered all over my face as if he hoped to find some sort of answer there, “Tell me that wasn’t who I thought it was.”

Snorting, I gifted him a smug smile, “Can’t do that, sorry.”

“Lia.” Danny practically hissed, before pulling out the face he knew I hated, one which he’d mastered decades ago and had since taught Lottie, seeing as it was the kind that always had me feeling guilty or had the two of them forcing my hand. “Come on, you know you can tell me anythin’.”

I flipped him off, scoffing at the attempt to butter me up but even so, I still felt my walls crumble. “Ugh, you’re such a prick, Danny.” I blew out, eyes straying away from the screen and over to where Marshall still stood, looking back at me, “Do you mind?”

With a smile that I couldn't quite place the emotion behind, Em rolled his eyes at the ask and slid back into view, close enough now that his entire side pressed against mine. I chewed on my lower lip as I watched my brother observe Marshall whilst slowly losing his mind.

“Jesus Christ, man. Shit.” Were the first few words he spouted, a hand coming up to rake across his face whilst Em shook a tad with a light chortle, “I mean, fuck.” Danny continued once his arm had fallen away, attempting to take in the scene again before his stare dragged back to me, “I know you’re in with these lot, El. But shit– Eminem? How the fuck does that even happen?”

I had to laugh at that, knowing full well how he was feeling.

“I mean, come on! Mate! It’s an honour, I swear.” Danny started to fangirl, jaw still agape and eyes almost starstruck.

“Good to meet you, man.” Marshall said in his usual voice, not the one reversed for the public, for interviews and the like, but the one he used with Rosie, with Soup and Drew, with me. I was immensely thankful for it. “Heard a lot about you.”

Danny seemed to remember himself at that, sitting back a bit in his bunk, dog tags rattling with the motion, as he dragged out a long breath. “Only good things I hope.” He chuckled in that charming way of his, the type that used to get him free sweets down at the local shops and have the old ladies outside the cafe swooning.

“Nah, I let him in on that laundrette heist you committed when you were fifteen and told him ‘bout the times you wet the bed.” I interrupted, smirking when Dan’s eyes cut to me.

“You know that weren’t me, it was Danny Evans.” Danny sniped back far too quickly, “How many times do I gotta tell you?”

I chuckled around a small a-huh, “Sure, Dan. How’d you barrel into the pub the same night and piss away a load of ten pences on the fruit machines then?”

He sniffed, feigning ignorance as he glanced away, “No idea what you’re on about.”

Shaking my head, I found Em watching me with a smile of his own. 

“So you ain’t gone deny pissin’ the bed then?” Marshall wondered out loud, chin coming to rest on the fist of his hand.

Startled, Danny’s head shot back round to the camera, he raised a finger at Marshall, “It’s slander, is what it is.” He told the man, “Always been jealous of me, she has. Me bein’ the fitter one of course.” 

“Ha. Hilarious.” I deadpanned, but allowed a small smile to creep through when Em’s knee knocked into mine. “What you been up to anyway, arsehole?”

“Fuck me and all my shit, question still stands, Li.” Danny was hasty to retreat back to his previous ask, “How’d you two meet?” 

Thankfully Em was the one to answer him. “I reached out.” He told him, gaze straying over towards me as he carried on, “Listened to her stuff for a while before I saw that video your sister posted online, figured it was a shot in the dark.”

“One which worked out,” I teased, before I shook my head over towards Danny, who appeared to be watching the pair of us with a dopey grin, “Acting as though I didn’t shit myself the second I found out it was him.”

Marshall snorted beside me, probably remembering the conversation, the way I’d stressed over sudocrem spots and my sound system, whilst he'd been perfectly content.

“Nah, I can imagine.” Danny laughed in ridicule, knowing how much of a fan I’d been growing up, “Failed to fuckin’ mention it though, din’t you?”

The way he’d levelled me with a look, which spoke more words than said, had me shifting somewhat sheepishly. “It was new!” I exclaimed, “Didn’t know how it would all work out. No one but Mila knows where I am, well Lotts too– sort of, I know she’d kill me if she knew knew.”

Smiling at that, Danny’s chuckles dimmed into a low titter before his eyes wandered back on over to Marshall, “Take good care of her for me, yeah? She acts tough but she’s soft as.”

I scoffed lightly, already prepping to roll my eyes when Marshall’s reply caught me a tad off guard. “I’ve realised.” He said gently, giving me a quirked smile when he caught me watching, “But no, she’s in good hands here. Me and my daughter are enjoying havin’ her here.”

My heart warmed at his words, the smile which overwhelmed my face too sappy even for my own liking. I made a vague sniff, pressing further into the man’s side as I hung my head to hide my reaction. Em didn’t falter, in fact he pressed closer too.

“Good to hear it.” Danny’s voice came through before there was a rather loud crash on the other side of the call, one which had Danny’s head shooting up, his eyes widening a fraction before a rowdy figure flew into him, knocking my brother sideways. 

I shared a startled look with Em, completely confused, but noted the way Marshall backed away ever so at the new figure who’d come and intervened. A few more blokes fanned in and around the background, though those seemed to be preoccupied, not even paying Danny and his fellow soldier anymind, as though it was all normal.

“Er?” I heard myself say and it was after Danny had managed to shove the man off him with a breathless laugh, attempting to right himself once more, that I caught sight of the slight amusement which shone in Marshall’s eyes. 

“Fuckin’ lump, I told you to stop doin’ that.” My brother exclaimed, and where I’d expected him to sound a bit miffed by the sudden attack, I was surprised to hear real affection there.

“But, my darlin’, I missed ya!” Came a bright Irish lilt just as a plethora of fawn coloured curls spilled over the bunk’s bedsheets before following his body back up into a standard sitting position. His grin was overwhelmingly white and almost large enough to hide his green eyes from view.

There was a bit more roughhousing as Danny shoved his army mate away when the kid started making kissy faces at him. “Piss off, you twat. I’m on the phone.”

It was that which had the other lad pausing in his messing, his head rolling over to the left where he found Dan’s phone, as well as me, I supposed. I waved, still a little surprised by the whole ordeal. “Hiya?”

“Fuck me.” The Irish man murmured lowly, eyes wide enough for me to see just how light his green eyes actually were, before he shuffled forward to flash a charming grin my way, “Aye, you’re lovely, have we met before? You look awfully familiar, mhuirnín.”

I had zero idea how to answer that, though I wasn't confused enough not to recognise the sweet name he’d used for me there. “Uh.”

“Leave it out, Lynch.” Danny huffed, swatting the other soldier who was still geared up in his tactical vest. “That’s my sister, you dickhead.”

“Wha?” Was the reply Danny received, before his mate turned back to the camera with another endearing grin, “I’m Tadhg, darlin’.” He introduced, name sounding more like Taig. “But I swear I weren’t lyin’ when I reckoned ye looked familiar. We din’t mess ‘round behind a Spoons on me last leave, did we?”

His brash words and assumption startled a loud laugh out of me, one which had Em’s brow furrowing slightly and Danny’s face falling into a scowl. “No we did not, you little shit.” I said, my head shaking at the cheek of it even as he continued grinning cheekily.

“Lynch, I’m warnin’ you.” Came my brother’s low mutter as he yanked his mate back away from the camera, Tadhg didn’t seem to mind the manhandling much.

“I’m just introducin’ meself, Danny boy!” 

“Well don’t, she’s taken.” Danny retorted, confusing me a tad, yet I didn’t deny it, rolling my eyes at my brother's obvious displeasure. 

My stare wandered over to Em, who was fiddling with his thumbs, he looked up at me as though sensing my gaze, I smiled. The gesture grew when it was returned. 

“El. El– aye, Lia!” Dan’s voice rang through, I snapped my attention back towards him but it was almost as though he hadn't expected his shout to draw in one of the lot behind him–

“Oh shit, is that Elia?”

It was sheer impulse, the way my head turned towards Marshall at the unexpectedness of hearing my name. Em seemed to sense my sudden dismay because he was plastered back to my side in a second, arm coming to wrap around my waist. The touch settled the anxious response that had been drilled into me and I was a tad bit thankful for the fact that he was only portionally in the frame when I looked back to my brother.

A third guy seemed to have joined our Facetime call, his eyes as dark as his braided hair and caught on me from where he’d come to kneel on the bunk behind both Danny and Tadhg. “Shit, it is!” His voice was layered in a thick Mancunian accent, one which reminded me of a friend I had back home, “How’d you know Elia, pal?”

“Elia?” Tadhg wondered, eyes flitting across my face before a sheen of recognition settled in there, “Fuck, I just asked Elia if we shagged behind a Spoons.”

“You did what?” The Manc spluttered slightly, his eyes alarmed.

I bit my tongue to keep from chuckling at that, but Em had no such qualms, apparently having picked up on a bit of slang whilst he’d been in the UK, that or just having been ‘round me far too long. 

“Idiots.” Danny sighed, giving Tadhg one last final shove before he let his shoulders drop and glanced over at me, “Sorry, El. I wouldn’t have called if I’dve known this lot would come bargin’ in.” 

“You’re alright.” I told Danny genuinely, I’d take any sort of interruption if it meant I got to talk to him for a little while. “It’s nice to meet your mates though, you lads doin’ alright over there?”

“All good, Els.” Danny assured me, but it was short lived because Tadhg was turning to grace the third soldier with a perplexed look. 

“How’d you know who she was anyway, Sully?”

Sully, the dark eyed lad with the Manc accent, shrugged as he looked back down at his friend, “Mate, she’s been like my crush for years. Had a poster of her on me wall when I were back home.”

My eyebrows raised at the admission (I mean how old was this kid? Fresh out of school?) and it was then that Marshall chose that exact moment to clear his throat. I shot him a knowing look, one which he returned with a rueful smile.

The three lads turned to us at that exact moment, Tadhg laughing at the sudden sheepishness Sully’s smile took on, whilst Danny just heaved another prolonged sigh. 

“Fuck, that’s well awkward.” Sully noted, only furthering said awkwardness. 

Marshall looked over to me, that smile still as present as ever, “Didn’t know you had posters.”

“Me neither.” I snorted quietly in return, leaning into him until our moment was cut short.

“What the fuck, Danny!”

Both Marshall and I’s head spun around to see what had happened, only to realise that it had been us. We were what had happened.

“What the fuck, man?” Tadhg said after a long moment had passed. Too long.

I cringed a tad, expecting to have Marshall move away now that he’d been spotted too, having leaned too far into the camera’s view when his head had ducked down to join mine. But he didn’t, move that is. Didn’t shy away at all. In fact, he nodded to the duo in a small hello. “Sup.”

Tadhg and Sully’s eyes were boring into us now, utterly stunned, which would have been funny if it wasn’t for the shock of it all. Danny sat off to one side with his face buried in his hands before he slowly lifted his head, showing off an all too apologetic smile.

I waved him away before he could open his massive gob to say something as stupid as sorry, it wasn’t his fault and it wasn’t like we’d really discussed anything, about his army friends knowing who I was and certainly not about them meeting Marshall, who Danny himself had only just realised was said ‘mystery man’.

“Alright, clear out.” Danny ended up saying instead, shooing his pals off his bunk. 

Seemed that the pair weren’t all that easily led though. “Oi, whaddya mean? Let us meet the famous people!” Tadhg hassled, shoving back on the hand Danny was trying to push him away with.

“Yeah, man! I mean, fuckin’ hell, Eminem was the last person I figured I’d be meetin’ today, lads.” Sully added as he rocked further into the little space that sat between Tadhg and Danny, elbows coming up to rest on either man’s shoulder. 

“He’ll be the last person you’ll ever meet if you two don’t piss off.” Danny huffed, swatting Sully’s hand off. 

“Ooo, tetchy!” Sully laughed, prodding Danny further by deeming it alright to hang over his shoulder instead now, Tadhg’s face being squished against his torso. “Heya, mate! Your last album? Fuckin’ fire, fella!”

Surprisingly, Em seemed to snort at the kid’s words and had since settled into the fact that he was now wholeheartedly a part of this conversation. “Appreciate it, man.”

I watched on as Sully continued to rant about all the emotions he’d felt whilst listening to the LP and was warmed by the way Marshall answered each of his and Tadhg’s questions with a genuine acknowledgement, delving when and where he could. Danny appeared to watch it all too, observing how his mates fawned over Marshall and even me at times, though Tadhg’s, I figured, was more down to the fact that he was a massive flirt, having picked up on him even trying his luck with Marshall, much to the man’s obliviousness. 

A while must have passed before Danny finally cut in, giving Marshall a small reprieve, “Alright, as enlightening as this has been,” He mentioned, eyes flitting over to Tadhg, who simply winked at him in return, “I wanna talk to my sister for a bit.”

“Awh, mate! We’re soldiers, this is like our make a wish or summat!” Tadhg almost whined, Sully and Danny snorting at his huffy behaviour as though it was typical, but the pair did eventually make a move to leave, Sully giving us a big thumbs up and a toothy grin whilst Tadhg shot us a joint wink. “Here if you ever need a rebound!”

Danny kicked his arse with the side of his boot as the man dipped out of view, though we heard the hearty laugh that followed in the Irish boy’s wake. He was shaking his head ever so when he glanced back at Em and I, “Sorry ‘bout them. Army life makes meetin’ normal people that more exciting, you know?”

I huffed a quiet chuckle whilst Marshall gifted Danny an easy but tired grin, he rapped the counter as he pushed to stand back to his full height. “I’ma go check on Z,” He mentioned to me before turning back to face Danny again, “Was good meetin’ you, man. Have to do this again sometime, for real.”

Knowing my brother like I did, I could see the slight ripple of surprise that echoed through his reaction to that statement, but on the surface he just dropped his chin and gave Em a sporting grin in turn. “‘Course, mate. Lookin’ forward to it.”

Just before he could slip away, Marshall lingered a second longer, hand squeezing my waist where it had failed to fall away in all the time we’d spent speaking and his smile widening just a fraction for me to see. “I’ll come find you in a bit.” I promised, he dipped his head and I listened as he padded out of the kitchen and over to the stairs.

Danny was the one to break the quiet we settled into. “He’s nice.”

I peered back at him to find him wearing a genuine smile, not a trace of animosity to be found in his voice. My grin was small, an attempt to hide the fondness I knew he’d find there. “Yeah, he is.”

Shaking his head around a knowing smile, Danny took his phone into his hand, “I was so right about there being a mystery man.”

Scoffing at the words, I cut my eyes at him but still looked back over my shoulder to make sure that Em hadn’t heard, even though it was impossible that he had, he was upstairs with Z. 

“Shut up, idiot.” I told him, slipping over to the backdoor and into the cool air the garden offered. I’d only been out there the once but it was just as lovely as the house’s front driveway, though a lot larger. “It isn’t like that.” 

Danny hummed, unconvinced. “Sure it ain’t. Remember though, I know you.”

“And what’s that meant to mean?”

He laughed giddily in reply, “You’re smitten!”

“Fuck off.” I huffed, looking away.

He wasn’t having any of it though. “You fuckin’ are! Know it too.” He continued to chuckle, all smuglike, “Deny it all you want if that’s what makes you happy though.”

I rolled my eyes, “It really isn’t like that, Dan. He’s– well, he’s him.”

“You’ve always been a right idiot, you know that?” Danny fired back, voice a little heated though his sigh told me that he wasn’t willing to expand on his statement, “What you been up to anyway? Seen his Porsche yet or is that reserved for red carpets?”

“You’re such a prat.” 

Danny grinned. “So I’ve been told.”

Blowing out a breath, I resolved to let the argument go. “It’s been good here, nice. It’s so different from London. I mean, I’ve seen so much already. Even had a fuckin’ rap battle with this friend of Em’s.”

Danny looked like he didn’t believe me.

“I swear it, Dan!” I laughed in defence, pressing my knuckles into my mouth to keep from being too loud.

“Come off it, you?” He asked, though there was a slight note of awe there.

“Me.” I retorted with a great big old smile, “It was so surreal, like I don’t know how it even happened.”

Danny started chuckling and he shook his head at me in utter disbelief, “Only you, I swear. Wish I could’ve been there.”

“Me too.”

A wave of quiet passed between us. 

“I’m glad you’re havin’ a good time.” Danny finally murmured, looking at me with those eyes that so often reminded me of Lotts, of Mum. “If anyone deserves a bit of happiness, it’s you.”

My eyes flickered between his, a tad bit teary after hearing that, and so I sniffed and looked away in hopes to cover it up. “Hush up.”

Danny’s chuckles resonated even through the phone, bouncing around me and filling my chest with a sense of nostalgia. “Okay, only if you let me know when it happens.”

Brow furrowing, I looked to him with a question, “When what happens?”

All I received was a gentle smile, “You’ll know.”

[fryktheciller]

rosin and cuddles

charlie dalton x gn!reader

notes: you guys i love charlie so much its getting bad and i kinda hate the violin as a pianist but ravel's string quarted basically begged me to write something inspired by it. also, if you'd like to listen to the piece this is the movement i wrote about. enjoy!!

tw: HEAVY swearing (charlie uses fuck as a comma it's canon) and mentions of weed, sex and orgies

Time moves slowly with the bow in hand. Ravel’s string quartet’s pizzicato really couldn't come out right, or, rather, like you wanted it to sound. The weirdly positioned bow makes your hands hurt, the right index finger all sore and a few steps away from bleeding from the pizzicato’s torture, and the left hand numb from the trillo.

“Why the violin, what did I do wrong with my life?” You whisper to yourself, screwing the first phrase and moving into the “bien chanté” one. Your index on the bow feels like heaven, and the legato and more melodic tempo make your focus shift from the sheet music in front of you to the first drops of rain outside.

Charlie comes in, without knocking, and you breathe a sigh, knowing you’re not going to be able to touch the violin until tomorrow. The perspective of doing nothing all night is both sweet and bitter; practice guilt haunts you even in your sleep.

He walks up to you and wraps his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your free shoulder.

—You smell good.

—Of what? Rosin and hair?

He doesn’t reply, just a quick peck on your jaw and pulls back as you put down the bow and dismantle the worn out orange shoulder rest. You rest the violin in its case, as November's typical drizzle turns into heavy rain; you put away the scores on an already messy desk and don’t even bother to close and put back the black and old stand. He sits on the bed, watching you with a stupid smile on his face. You turn at him and lay on the bed, taking off your slippers in the meantime and copying his smile. He follows you, and lays on your chest, arms wrapped around your waist. Your hands slide through his hair, raking through the chestnut locks and scratching his scalp. Charlie takes your hand, kisses it, and nibbles on the tips of your fingers, red and marked from the strings.

–Ouch!– you whine.

–You’re being dramatic.

–Look who’s talking.

He doesn’t reply, shifting towards your neck and burning his nose there.

–You smell good.

–Again?

–'m just sayin’, Jesus…

You grin at him, and he replies with one of his own.

–Will you slap me if I try to kiss you?

–Try and see.

He does, pressing his lips against yours and lingering there; you smile and kiss him back.

It quickly becomes a messy French kiss, and you pull away, flushed and breathless.

–I should’ve slapped you.

–You didn’t. Too bad.– he mocks you, his usual grin curving his lips.

You roll on your side, burying your nose in his neck.

–You’re warm, hot, even.

–I’m going to need some elaboration on that sentence.

–Fuck you.

–Right now?– he sighs, mockingly frustrated. –You do realize sometimes it's great just to cuddle?

You let out a fake laugh, and pull back from his neck, sitting up on the bed and crossing your legs.

–Awww c’moooon!– he whines, your absence leaving him a little colder.

–You’re so fucking insufferable. I fucking hate you.

–Are you for real?!

He sits up on the bed, mocking surprise all over his face.

–I thought I was the only one. I really hate you too!!

You grin at him, the hearty laugh of both of you filling the room. Then you lay back down on the bed, still chuckling; he follows you, arms around your waist, and pulls you as close as possible.

You sigh, clinging onto him as well and closing your eyes.

–’m still mad, for the record.

–Sure you are. How’s Ravel going?

–One fucking hell of a bastard. Amazing, though.

–What? The idea or the practice?– he laughs with sarcasm, and you chuckle as well.

–I absolutely love the second movement, but he was such an asshole to write the first violin’s part so hard.

–Drop the violin and pick up the sax.

–Sure, and does the pack include becoming like you?

–Mean like charming, smart, handsome, and, oh so sexy? Of course.

–More like a fucking cunt, a slut, stupid, and hateful?

He laughs, and you follow him.

–But the violin’s so...

–Amazing? Fun to play and listen to? Cunty?

–Oh, so the violin can be cunty, and I can't? This isn't playing fair!

You laugh heartily, while he pouts mockingly.

–Violin reminds me of Cameron.

–And when did it exactly become a bad thing?

He pulls back, eyebrows raised, and a half-smirk curving his lips.

–Are you fucking for real?

–I like Cameron. He helps me with trig.

–If we had a truth detector, it would be red, like communists. Also, why didn’t you tell me you had a thing for degradation?

You chuckle and pull his ear; he hisses and laughs.

–Still, he’s a fucking snitch,– he mumbles.

–Bringing weed into Welton isn’t exactly great.

–It's not like he says anything about cigarettes.

–Weed is on another fucking level, Charlie.

–Wanna blaze tonight?

–Blaze as in “we cuddle until I reach the temperature of the sun”?

–I’ll go and ask Knox, then.

–You’re really so fucking desperate to get high?

–It’s fun. I’ll be in his room, if you change your mind.

–If you two end up having sex, I’m breaking up with you.

–Yeah, and if I cook one meal, I become a chef.

–That’s a different matter.

–How is that—you know what? I’m fucking Overstreet tonight.– And he pulls back, sitting on the bed, looking at the messy wool blankets over the bed, then at you, with an unserious challenging gaze.

–Can I join, though?

An ugly smirk curls his lips.

–What? The Romans didn’t add women to orgies for nothing.

He smirks wider, and you whine.

–Come back here, c'mon.

He obliges, still silent. You chuckle.

–What is it? Are you mad?

–I'm not mad.

You chuckle and peck his lips.

–Were you for real, though?– he mutters with a soft voice.

You pull once again his ear in response. He whines and chuckles.

–Asking wasn’t supposed to hurt!

–And you weren’t supposed to ask, you slut.

–I'm getting hard, I'm telling you.

–Oh my god, Charlie,– you sigh, shaking your head.

–Your fault.

You laugh and shift a little, so you’re facing him directly.

–Sometimes, which is all the time, I wonder how you can say these sorts of things with a straight face.

–Sort of question Cameron would ask. Are you sleeping with him or something?

–Maybe he stole my soul,– you whisper, smirking.

–You’re flattering him. He wouldn’t have the balls to do that.

You shrug and chuckle.

–We always end up talking about him.

–Your fault.

–It’s always my fault, isn’t it?

He nods and pecks at your lips.

–It was your fault we got scolded today.

–You slapped my ass!

–And you were dramatic about it.

You laugh, and he follows you.

–I hate you.

–Are you sure? The truth detector’s kind of red.

You sigh in response and bury your head in the crook of his neck, and he pulls you closer, running his hands through your hair. Your eyelids grow heavy, and you nap a little, listening to the loud rain outside; until he lets out a (purposefully) loud sneeze.

–Oh, fuck you, Charlie.

–You’ve got this ugly, stinky, fucking rosin; it’s not my fault.

–You said I smelled good earlier.

–Earlier.

You sigh again, pulling back a little.

–Did you study history?

–Look at me in the eyes, you tell me.

You chuckle and pretend to be deep in thought while staring at your own reflection in his eyes.

–The stars say yes,– you murmur, in mock seriousness.

–The stars are fucking dumb.

–You swear a little too fucking much.

–Oh, sorry, mom,– he pleads, faking puppy eyes and a pout.

You chuckle with sarcasm and roll on your back, facing the ceiling.

–Me neither, for the record.

–You’re helping me with the test anyway.

–Oh, yeah, like last time, where we ended up in Nolan’s office.

–We got out of there because of that pretty face of yours, though.

–Is it supposed to be flattering?

–Well, is it?

–’m sorry…

He laughs, and you follow him. He shifts, resting in the crook of your neck, and your arms wrap around his neck, scratching his nape.

–You smell good.

–It's the second or third time you’ve told me.

–Oh, well, sorry for not being able to do anything but profess the truth.

–You literally told me “you’ve got this ugly stinky fucking rosin” a second ago.

–You smell good. The rosin’s fucking nasty.

You chuckle, and he smiles against your neck. Your hands move to his scalp, scratching and running through his hair, and his hands slide down your sweater, tracing little circles on the bare skin of your waist.

–You’re so warm,– he whispers, and you kiss his temple in response.

You rest your head on his own, listening to his steady breathing.

–Are you coming tonight?

–It’s raining, and it won’t stop anytime soon.

–Just say you don’t want to come.

–Shut up, Charlie.

–I have a letter for you.

You smile at his words and chuckle a little.

–Sweet.

–Sweet indeed.

–Now tell me, did Todd write it and you copied it with that pretty handwriting of yours?

He chuckles, biting your neck in response.

–I wrote it by myself.

–No need to lie, pretty boy,– you whisper with sarcasm.

He chuckles again, and you go along with him.

Silence falls again, your focus drifting from his breathing to the heavy rain outside.

–You coming, then?

–Only if you carry me there.

He grins and chuckles, actually considering your suggestion.

–Bet.

–Fifty dollars you can’t make it without putting me down for a little.

–Prepare the money.

You chuckle, and him along with you.

–We should really study for tomorrow,– you mumble, tugging at his hair.

–You’ll pass. You’re smart… I’ll copy from Meeks, and you.

–How much are you paying him?

–Ten dollars and a magazine.

–Pricey. And me?

–What do you want?

–What are you willing to give me?

–Unconditional love and affection until I die.

–That’s the basic plan. Anything else?

–The best sex of your life.

–Fair, but still in the basic plan.

He sighs and chuckles.

–So demanding. Cigarettes?

–How much are we talking about?

–Three packs a month?

–Fair enough.

–And you let me copy all your Latin and trig homework.

–Bold of you to assume I do them.

–You do them for me.

You laugh, and he laughs along with you.

He snuggles closer, leaving faint kisses on your neck; your eyelids become heavy again, and your hands in his hair slow down.

–We’re going to miss dinner,– you whisper, more asleep than awake.

He doesn’t reply; he just tightens the grip on your waist, and his breath becomes slower and heavier.

Needless to say, you skipped both dinner and the meeting.

[samodivaa]

Deny the truth,set my world on fire (Part 4)

Bucky Barnes x Reader (Winter Soldier x Reader)

Part 1⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ Part 2⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ Part 3 ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆* ┗━━━ ━━━┛ He knew that she was having an affair...she denies, but the love marks on her body are still there. She can't tell him the truth, it will break him - the Winter Soldier is indeed inside of him, fucking her at night and Bucky doesn't remember. ┏━━━ ━━━┓ Quotes - Pushkin, Fyodor Tyutchev, Dostoyevsky └── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

Warnings - heavy ANGST, some fluff Words - 3000

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ Song ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆Eventually

Did i cry from my own fic? Yes? ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

4 years ago Bucky’s triggers words were present more than anything, anyone else in his life. Beneath the sheet of gleaming snow, his human-self slept for decades, frozen in time. And everywhere he goes, it follows him; the past is always spreading ashes of memories : all of Winter’s footprints are effaced by her love, the waves of fury are at peace – she is his homeland shores, grounding his soul like an anchor. „Ah, my last love! Thou art both bliss and pain. And joy - and hopelessness-“ Bucky moves to sit next to her on the couch, putting an arm around her and pulls her in close until his head rests on her shoulder. „Doll, what are you quoting?“ he squints his eyes, quotes always brush against the edge of his curiosity, before taking a peek at her book. „My last love; Fyodor Tyutchev“ she proclaims, hardly attempting to hide her growing smirk. „Am I your last love?“ He drawls, a bit of sarcasm touching his tone, but he feels the seed of doubt embed in his heart at his own words echoes in his head. She just giggles, looking at him with glittering eyes, not moving from her comfortable repose. „Of course, Bucky“ She smiles and nods, before turning her gaze to the book once again, rolling the paper sheet between her fingers and gazing at it thoughtfully. „Read me more, I want to hear more“ he mumbles after completing an impressive yawn. He adjusts his position to get more comfortable on the couch as she continues to read, with his head on her lap. His soul is a wounded dove, it has a painful, longing call. A flying bird about to fall, that was poisoned, festered with the past…and now Bucky is surrendering in her embrace, and quietly drinks the healing rays of poem; of poetry - drinking mouthfuls from this healing light, her light – finally seeing the world bright and complete. "It is amazing what one ray of sunshine can do for a man!” ― Dostoyevsky 3 years ago „Snow, frost and sunshine ... Lovely morning! Yet you, dear love, its magic scorning, Are still abed ... Awake my sweet!“ Suddenly her voice sounds in the nothing of the night. Though no louder than falling snow, it cuts across the emptiness, so shocking in the endless silence that the words seem craved into his mind, crackle of emotions infuses the void of his soul after the nightmare. „Winter morning, Pushkin. Why do you always read me that when I have nightmares, doll?“ he feels an oppressive weight settling over him. „Because after a raging snowstorm, a lovely morning always follows, Bucky“ „Yeah, because you are the sunshine in my mornings“ He burbles out a delirious giggle as sweat streams down his face. Having her in his life is a kiss-inspired dream, he needs to touch her to make sure she is real. With his shoulders squared and his body tenses from the unknown reality, his hand gently outstretches to her face. She responds by inching impossibly closer into his palm with sliver of softness in her eyes. She is real.

2 years ago Nature is an artist as it strokes swiftly a winter wonderland. But now, wretches, every drop of blood — don't stain the innocent snow. The scene is set, exquisitely divine — snow always pluck the vibrating strings of Bucky's mind, but her voice is enough to make his worries melt away. Sometimes they talk of the past where еre any roamed or died. They talk of old times when Winter only meant death and not Christmas chimes. There is no wind to speak of, more an icy winter chill outside; because If he wants to overcome the whole world, he needs to overcome himself so they go for a walk to the park, snow crunching beneath their feet. Their hearts are not connected to each other through mutual understanding alone. They are, instead, linked deeply through the wounds of his past — hanging by a string, loosely holding him from collapsing. And she knows when thoughts are tossing him around, bathing in his blood — so she chooses to speak.

„I still remember that amazing moment. When you appeared before my sight. As though a brief and fleeting omen, Pure phantom in enchanting light.“

„Doll, I really think that you love Pushkin more than me“ „I remember reading him for the first time, it was so romantic“ „You are telling me that meeting me was not romantic?“ „Sometimes I just imagine meeting you in a café, far away from here - I imagine that nothing bad has happened to you, Bucky. Sometimes I wish you didn’t remember the past.“ And this is what Bucky learns now: that her love is an antidote to his worries, always, that stands within this otherness of the world, of nature — the beauty and the mystery of the Winter season, out in the fields or deep inside their favorite books at home — both those activities, her ideas; are re-dignifying his worst-stung soul. He doesn’t need to fight darkness. Bring the light, and darkness will disappear, she is his light. She uses his moment of distraction to move away and makes a small ball of snow and throws it right at his nose. „I was thinki-“ Bucky shouts as he wipes the snow from his face. She has the audacity to laugh as he removes the snow, and he decides to chase her. Bucky easily tackles her into the snow, putting his arm around her to make sure she wouldn't get hurt in the fall, faces very close together. „Now, this is romantic, Bucky“ He nodes his head, speechless still. To heal is to touch with love that which was previously touched by Hydra.

Present „How are you holding, Buck?“ „I’ve lived too long with the pain, I won’t know who am I without it“ „You still quote stuff just like you did with her, Buck. Why don’t you talk to her, she is still recovering I talked with her today“ „She doesn’t remember anything, I want her to move on“ his inquisitiveness nearly outweighed his reluctance to talking to Sam about it, attempting to simmer the flames of the protective nature over her. „She might remember, she needs time, Buck-“ Sam pressures him with a challenging look that he more than gladly returns. Bucky considers the proposal and the fact that Sam is giving him a guarded expression that seems so hopeful, followed by a slight nod of his head before speaking.

„The time I spend at Wakanda, with Shiru- I’ve decided to go with the procedure. I can’t trust my mind unless they restart my bra-“ „You can’t-“ Bucky rises from the chair and is halfway to the door of Sam’s house when he turns and says „Enough, Sam, please“

Bucky has fond a peace in nature which was irreplaceable once; he steps outside looking at the colorful sunset. The sun is out, but he is cold, eyes are wild, but the mind is asleep, the world is alive, but Bucky has dead. Nature is love, nature reminds him of her, but he is aloof of everything that screams live for today — he died the moment he woke up to her laying in the white sheets. ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋆⋅☆⋅⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ Flowers will grow back after he stepped on then and maybe in a less miserable times they may see each other again — all his grief says the same things „this is not how it’s supposed to be“ and the world laughs and holds at his hope by the throat „but this is how it is“ The final turn is that. Oh, how strongly grabs them, the secret plot of fate and everywhere he goes, it follows him; the past is always spreading ashes of memories: all of Bucky’s footprints of love are effaced by Winter, the waves of fury are not at peace – no longer is there a homeland shore, no longer someone grounds his lost soul like an anchor.

The sadness won’t last forever, he won’t be able to remember it and for the last time Bucky goes to sleep so he could see her in his dreams for the last time – she taught him everything except to how to live without her – the present feels like the past. It’s a fitting punishment for a monster to want something so much, to hold it in his arms and know beyond a doubt that he never deserved it, that he ruined it – his soul bleeds and the blood steadily, silently, disturbingly slowly shallows him whole –  Bucky is too gone to be healed – he almost robbed her of her life. Now, she will carry the scars forever, but he selfishly remembers their love, there was love and it was theirs. Bucky was too deeply afraid to face her, that the moment their eyes meet and she finds herself staring at a stranger and he will realize that he has become a person she no longer recognizes – he stares at the poem she left for him, it makes him smile, because it reminded him of him and her; of what they used to do – James doesn’t want this to be the end of the chapter but it is – it’s the end of the line for love – nothing ever ends poetically he realizes end and his trust to poetry, it was not beautiful – it was just pain. He performs autopsies on their conversations long ago – he can to lie Sam, but he can’t lie to the hole deep inside – he lets himself cry, it’s better than feeling nothing at – wearing her shirt, because it’s still smells like her, but it will soon fade like his memories of her, of everything, erased forever. How can he live with a conscience that suffers whilst acknowledging his sin; with the memory of knowing she left this poem behind, thinking she would die from his own hands? ◤━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━◥ I loved you; and perhaps I love you still, The flame, perhaps, is not extinguished; yet It burns so quietly within my soul, No longer should you feel distressed by it. Silently and hopelessly, I loved you, At times too jealous and at times too shy. God grant you find another who will love you As tenderly and truthfully as I. Your sincerely, your Doll ◣━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━◢

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„Excuse me for interrupting, but I just saw that you are reading `The Brothers Karamazov` and couldn’t resist coming to talk to you“ a calm voice cut through the silence. „Oh, I just wanted to reread it- you can sit with me“ She has a thoughtful look on her face, heart shattering into so many tiny fragments that it is hard to speak, it leaves her incredulously blinking when she sees his blue eyes eerily crystalline. She only heard about him in periodic whispers over the mouths, hearing about his recovery and adjustment to life all over again.   She never intended to stay long, but she does because it is peaceful and she is not in a rush to leave, but his presence is overwhelming, feeling the presence of eternal harmony, fully achieved just like before. „I need to go for work, it was nice meeting you“   She senses that she should be following a different path, a path where their lines don’t cross. It is too much, she can barely breathes. There is a furious discontent from a moment, which verged on loathing; for her to have all of her memories and for him to be just a stranger taking interest in her book. This inexhaustible fantasy of them meeting again, of them reading books again – she needs to get out here of here, but then Bucky speaks and it’s impossible to smash the idea of them being together into splinters and turn it to dust – his eyes are the ocean, all flows and connects when their eyes meet. „Wait, can I get your number?“ he whispers from beside her, worry clear on his face at her sudden urge to go. He continues to stare intently into her eyes, waiting for their gazes to meet again and he feels his heartbeat speeding up.  „Oh?“ Bucky almost chokes on the air as she turns around to face him, not responding with any words. She just furrows her eyebrows slightly. And it hurts so good that its Bucky’s own free unfettered choice to ask her, to come speak with her. „I want to buy you a book“ his blue eyes trail from her eyes, to her lips thinking about how gorgeous this girl is. She is not sure which is worse – the intense feeling of him being here, or the absence of his previous love for her. Maybe it will be worse if she doesn’t let herself be part of his new life. She is too afraid of giving herself to someone she might lose again, she is too afraid that Winter might come again. Her loyalty to his past, to keeping it a secret its want cost her the most and she needs to bare all of her sins all over again, to keep a secret. „You don’t want to take me on a date?“ she questions while watching him with an amused gaze. „Yeah, yeah – I want to do that, too“ he responses with uncertainty laced in his voice, trying to hide a nervous laugh between closed lips. “You will burn and you will burn out; you will be healed and come back again” „Is that a quote?“ he shrugged, looking startled. „Yeah, it’s from the book, James“ „How do you know my name?“ it is a tormenting thought that refuses to take shape, not even sure if he wants to know the explanation behind this. “I am a fool with a heart but no brains, and you are a fool with brains but no heart; and we’re both unhappy, and we both suffer” Her eyes get a little teary, but she's quick to put a lid on her emotions, it is overwhelming that he doesn’t remember any of her favorite quotes, of the quotes she used to tell him. „Where is that from?“ „Idiot“ „Excuse me?“ „The Idiot, Fyodor Dostoevsky“ she hesitatingly looks at him, he is already looking at her with those ocean blue orbits that hold so much kindness, curiosity, just as they used to. „Oh…that was clever, I will give you that“ he laughs to himself, shoulders shaking with humor. „And I will give you my number“ „Really?“ „No“ “We sometimes encounter people, even perfect strangers, who begin to interest us at first sight, somehow suddenly, all at once, before a word has been spoken”

„That is from Crime and Punishment“ she purposely tries to add amusement to her voice, trying to appear as this has never happened before. She is frozen, words caught in her throat. „Yeah.“ He licks his bottom nervously. "O-okay, I will give you my number"

An invisible thread ties them together – the pull the drag deep inside beneath her skin, the heavy gravity of him. She loved him enough to spend forever waiting, no amount of time is ever enough and even one day if forever runs out, she will be fine, because it’s her decision waiting for Bucky, getting to love him all over again. To exist with him is her greatest privilege and pain – but he has settled into the depth of her soul because, she has found what she loves and it almost killed her – the thought of him forgetting her terrified her before, but it probably terrified him too before his mind was fully reset – she searches for quotes which remind her of them, but he probably did too. This time she is learning him slowly, taking her time; in no rush with her love – there are oceans in James’ eyes and when she looks at them, both emotions and memories hit me waves. Sometimes she wants to scream so loud that the ground trembles, there is so much fear and grief within her that she is decaying from the inside out and there is no one to help me but herself. She needs to stay silent, need to be here for him once again – she loved him and will love parts of him that are not easy to love, turning the pages gently and helping him re-write a happy ending to his narrative. She has loved none, but him and it cuts her soul a million times just to form a constellation to light his way home – angry and half in love with the new him and tremendously sorry for how it turned out for them – it’s not a metaphor, this ache, this fear of Winter all over – but all Bucky’s life was grey before meeting her one day at the café. He brushes up against pink and the barest touch and - the rest of his life is green again, green like Spring. He doesn’t know who he is and the cycle begins again – he pierces her soul ,she is half agony and half love – Bucky is too tangled there, finding his way back to her unknowingly.

And that’s how Bucky imagines it, meeting her all over again after his procedure - in a café, far away from here - he imagines that nothing bad has happened to her. Sometimes he wishes he was just Bucky, sometimes he wishes that the past has never happens - sorrow compresses his heart. His grief passes gradually into quiet tender joy of that daydream. Her memories never returned. Bucky’s memories were deleted successfully. They never met again. ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆Tag list⋅⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ @dear-lolita @i-loveyoubutyourenotmine @blackwood-bodecker-housewife @montyrokz @sarah5462 @mooievis @almosttoopizza @midnightramyeoncravings @itsmadamehydra @ravenromanoff @beetlejuicesupremacy @queenashen @kandis-mom @whitexwolfxx310 @msoldier @venting402 @avery199 @pandabearrrrrrr @tilltheendofthelinepal13 @tokoyamisstuff @happinessinthebeing

“The most monstrous monster is the monster with noble feelings” ― Fyodor Dostoyevsky, The Eternal Husband

[bookworm-with-coffee]

Stay. . .

(Vex x Reader)

Plot; Thrust into a sudden date with no time to prepare, your fate may come to rest in the hands of one irresistible Mesmer— who may just like you more than he lets on...

Pairings; Vex x Reader (Romantic)

Warnings; fluff, jealousy, mature themes, coarse language

________________________________________

The racing thrums of your heart beat against your ribs painfully, lungs and legs burning amidst your desperate sprint through the busy streets.

"Watch it!", passers-by hissed as you brushed past. Others onlooked in confusion or panic over what may be chasing you.

However, all went unnoticed by you as your rushed journey lead you on to the ourskirts of town and to the broken apartment-shack of your best friends, Bo and Kenzi.

The latter had been ignoring your calls all morning and there was little time left before you were expected to be on a date with a Fae you'd crossed paths with only a few weeks ago in the Dal Riata.

'Shoot your shot', was Kenzi's eager encouragement, insisting that you needed to get into the battlefield of love.

And now that you were drowning in those waters she'd told you to swim in, your best friend had metaphorically disappeared off of the face of the Earth.

Thanks, Kenzi.

Shuffling through your pockets, you desperately searched for the spare housekey the girls had given you, for the case of an emergency— should one arise. Like now.

You fumbled and fussed, hissing when the key slipped from your clumsy fingers and clattered to the floor. "Fuck!".

The rickety door finally fell open once you'd managed to jam the key into the lock, wasting no time in forcing yourself into their shared and humble abode.

"Kenzi?", your shout was breathless, knees wobbling and thigh muscles spasming from your lack of stretching before this harsh journey.

Their living space was strangely abandoned, your aching feet leading you to the stairwell that lead up to Bo's room and their bathroom, going no further out of a want to be polite.

"Kenzi?!", you tried again, starting to fume with the prospect of her sudden abandonment of you. "Kenzi!".

Sighing through your gritted teeth, your eyes lulled in a short roll before closing in exhaustion and exasperation. Your head came to a soft rest against the doorframe of the stairwell, hardly anticipating to suddenly have your head lifted and smacked to the plaster without any control of your own. Not in a hard or harsh manner, but enough to make you wince and draw your attention to the culprit.

The living space wasn't quite as abandoned as you'd first thought.

Slowly, your unimpressed glare met the mischeivous twinkle of Vex's darker hues, the Mesmer seemingly proud of himself in his observation of you from the couch.

With his pink satin sleep mask sitting pretty on those thick raven locks, his head tilted, "Could you be any more obnoxious??".

"Nice to see you too, Vex", you huffed indignantly, rubbing at the reddening mark on your forehead. "I didn't know you were taking lessons on irony".

"Self-improvement, actually", he corrected you with his grin growing. "Something you should look into, sometime".

Despite the frustration boiling over within you, there was something so contagious about the Mesmer's caustic sarcasm and wit that always had your own smile flourishing, even now.

Vex was neither friend nor foe, but had slowly drifted closer to the former in the last months.

Abandoning his Dark Fae faction had been far from easy on him. The Mesmer lacked friends on both the Light and Dark sides of Fae, despite his actions in helping both factions and the humans against a threat that could've destroyed the fabric of reality itself.

Vex's actions previous to his betrayal of the Dark were beyond heinous and you didn't need to ponder his undoubtedly heavy conscience over the lives he'd broken and ended. He was beyond remorseful, even if no proper apology had yet been spoken.

In some ways, you'd felt drawn to the Mesmer, having faced a similar lack of belonging for most of your own life. If solitude had taught you anything, it was that anyone with a good heart deserves a second chance— that no one with grace in their hearts deserves to be alone.

There was always a strange gentleness about Vex whenever he spoke with you, finding his charisma addictive and his humour ensnaring. Wordlessly, you'd found enjoyment in his playful digs, ample able to keep up with them and bounce off of them with your own.

In recent months, you'd perhaps come to trust the Mesmer more than you'd ever admit.

"You've missed Kenzi by about—", Vex glanced to his wrist. "Half an hour".

"Any chance you knew where the girls were headed?".

"Beats me", the Mesmer shrugged. "It's not like I was invited. They just upped and left".

Leaving you alone. Your heart sank for him, even if it was for a moment.

"What's got your knickers in a twist anyhow?", his question startled you from your thoughts.

Sighing once more, you sat adjacent to him on the barstools in the kitchen. "A date. And no time to prepare or think—". You grumbled, "I never should have listened to Kenzi—".

A soft and mellow chuckle drew your gaze, unsurprised that the Mesmer was finding amusement at your expense, but there was something strangely reassuring in his glance as he finally addressed the issue at hand.

"You're worried over a date??". Your silence was answer enough. "Sorry to rain on your parade, Love, but you do realise that you have it all going for you?".

You blinked.

"That outfit may be in need of a vast improvement", he continued with a pointed look. "But, it's nothing to stress yourself over".

Shaking his head in exasperation, Vex made a move to return to whatever slumber he'd been having before your untimely interruption. "Now, if you'll excuse me—".

"Vex, wait!", your voice halted him, irking him to raise the pink fabric from over his eyes once more.

"Can't you take a bloody hint?", he whined, instantly softening to the desperate pleading in your hopeful gaze.

It was obvious you needed his help and that you weren't going to give him peace anytime soon.

Following a few moments of inner conflict, Vex finally relented with a huff, "When's this date then?".

"In a few hours".

"Tell you what", he started. "I get you all dolled up nice and proper for this date, but— ". He stressed the last word with a raised finger, stifling your building excitement. "— in return, I only ask for a mani, pedi and facial, at your own discretion".

"Cut the pedi and we have a deal", your arms folded, Vex feigning indecision with a pout.

"The pedi is cut. But, I want the full treatment and that lovely colour you're wearing", the Mesmer gestured to the shade of (f/c) on your nails.

"Deal", your grin was instantly mirrored by his. "So, where do we start?".

"I thought you'd never ask".

Vex began his work in the upstairs bathroom with steaming lavender suds in a hot bath. Whilst you took a long and much-needed soak in the soothing waters he'd kindly run for you, the Mesmer got to work on your outfit.

You hardly thought it was appropriate for him to be rummaging through Bo's extensive wardrobe whilst she wasn't home, but Vex had insisted that he 'practically lived here' and had already stolen and altered some of the poor Succubus' clothes for his own wear.

After leaving the floral warmth of the bath, you wrapped a towel around yourself, using the soft flannel material as a shield for your bodice.

In hearing you leave the tub, the Mesmer had eagerly sauntered from Bo's room with two outfits in hand, both stunning you into an unnatural form of silence. It left you to wonder what other things the Succubus wore and how she did so in the first place.

The horrified nature of your gaze left Vex to second guess his chosen options. "Too slutty??".

"If that's the word you want to use for—", your finger waved across the scant amount of fabric in his hands, "— that? ".

"Gotta leave something for the imagination, I 'spose", he sighed, eyeing one of the hangers with a sense of longing whilst placing it away.

"Does she have nothing else?".

Plucking an old cable-knit sweater from the ancient wardrobe, Vex judged the style with apprehension before offering it to you. "It smells like soap and the disappointment of no sex, but it's better than eau de neighbourhood stripper".

"Brilliant", the soft material was eagerly snatched, irking an eyeroll from your counterpart as his search continued.

"Finally", Vex pulled out a pair of black skinny jeans, the garment decoratively torn, yet suiting for the oversized sweater in your arms. "You should be right with that and a pair of belted boots. I'll see if Kenz has any lying about—".

The Mesmer seemed to almost enjoy being dedicated to your cause, the softest of smiles gracing your features as he raced around on your behalf. And for reasons that illuded you, you felt a sense of relief and gladness with Vex's presence, grateful that it was him looking after you, rather than your own best friend, Kenzi.

Feelings that heightened as your time in the Mesmer's care continued.

Endearingly, he had jested your outfit of choice, sniggering, "I'll be driving you to the bloody nursing home. Grandma phoned. She wants her style back".

"The 2000's called", you retorted with your own laughter. "To let you know that joke is as outdated as those leather pants you're wearing".

Incredulously, his mouth had fallen open in a faux sense of betrayal before collapsing into a fit of giggles.

Snacks and hair products soon littered the living room space, the Mesmer proud of both the mess and his 'artwork' once he'd finished styling your 'illustrious' locks.

"How lucky I am to be carrying this old thing", he all too excitedly whipped out his little ebony brush-bag from his pocket, wholeheartedly psyched to begin your make-up.

"Come here", Vex coaxed you gently, unable to mask his growing smile nor the fond nature of his glance as he invited you to shuffle closer to him on the old sofa.

The tips of his fingers delicately cradled your jawline and chin with a practiced care, darker hues monitoring your expression whilst he slowly applied the various layers with a tenderness you'd never previously observed from him.

Shades and depth soon became apparent in your skin, every movement and tickle of his brush feathersoft against your flesh.

The Mesmer sweetly whispered his actions beneath his breath, uttering his expert advice to you on how to apply blush on to the cheekbones and how less make-up is always more.

"Kenz was right", you marveled, gathering his attention some way through. His brows rose, beckoning you to continue. "Your make-up skills are the stuff of legend".

"Well", his lashes fluttered in a small bout of shyness, a humbled chuckle slipping from him. "I'm hardly done yet. Just wait til' you see me with mascara. That's my real trade secret".

Never had you bonded with Vex on such a level before, your usual and brief interactions with him in the Dal Riata paling in comparison to the in-depth conversation offered by your time alone together.

"Like I told Kenz. Just ever so softly wiggle up,—", he flecked the minuscule brush with a slight tremor to his wrist. "— shaking like a vibrator".

Knowing you had to remain still for him, you attempted to restrain your laughter at his hushed commentary, failing miserably as your cheeks curved in the wake of your smile.

Giggles bubbled their way up your throat by force, stumping the Mesmer to a complete stop. There was a thoughtful tilt to his head and a subconscious caress over your jawline from his calloused thumb as he watched your eyes light up.

The thought of a romantic relationship with you, among other things had undoubtedly crossed his mind once or twice in passing, knowing with some regret that you would never pick him. Who in their right mind would?

At one point, you had been enemies— at the recieving end of his controlling powers. Frozen on the spot as he'd nearly made you gauge out your own eye. Vex had never been more relieved now to have been stopped by your friends.

Nevertheless, you'd made it clear he was forgiven, for whatever foolish reason. Taken what should have been a killing blow meant for him only months ago, that shattered your arm and fractured a few ribs. After everything he did, you'd still defended his life, almost at the cost of your own.

"Vex, watch out!", he recalled your shout, feeling the hard shove of your palm pummelling him to the floor.

Whipping around from the shock, the Mesmer turned to see you clatter to the ground with an agonised cry, nursing the arm you'd tried to use to defend yourself against a crowbar.

There was immediate action from Vex. Enraged by your shared enemies, he used his powers to end them by the means of their own hands in a bloodied massacre reflective of his anger.

Crawling to your side, Vex assessed the damage of your already swelling arm as it started turning a ghastly hue of red and purple. "You saved me", he gasped out, hardly believing that fact himself.

"Of course I did, idiot", you'd growled, clutching at your limb with the excruciating throbbing rippling through every inch of your upper left-hand bones and muscles.

"Who's the bigger idiot?", he'd asked, attempting a smile that was followed by strained laughter on your part.

It made him realise that you saw something worth saving, even if the others never spared a thought for him.

Thereafter, your friend Dyson had been wary of Vex's presence in your life— rightly so, and advised you to stay away from the Mesmer, as he'd cost you far too much already.

"What's the history between you both anyway?", you'd asked the Shifter in nonchalance.

Within earshot of him, Vex heard Dyson give you the entire run-down of what a monster truly was. And it was very Vex-shaped.

And despite it all, you'd stayed.

"You're so beautiful", his soft murmur drew your thoughts into a flurry, spoken with an affection so uncharacteristic of the male before you.

The air in your lungs was gone, followed by your ability to speak. 'So are you', you wanted to reply, your throat taut with hesitation if only to avoid sounding cliché or ingenuine. Yet, every word would have been the truth.

With your current proximity, it had offered you the opportunity to admire the Mesmer for the first time up-close. Aware of every gentle detail of his expression, his flawless Fae complexion, the depth of emotions in those darker hues and the seemingly rueful quirk of his lips whilst he continued in applying your mascara.

"Whoever you're going with is going to be lucky to have you", he spoke, restraining his disappointment from burdening the tone of his voice. "You're going to knock their bloody socks off", Vex's grin brightened in an attempt to reassure you, a twinge of envy biting through his heart for the one you had chosen.

"Thanks to you", your words of gratitude humbled him again, the Mesmer only wishing he'd had more time in your company.

You felt a similar and estranged sadness of your own with your glance to the clock hanging high on the kitchen wall. You should have been happy to be leaving in full preparation for your date. Excited to have a good time with the Fae you'd been gushing over in the last week, instead finding yourself already mourning the thought of Vex's absence to go on what may be some mediocre date.

Vex was eccentric, confident and carefree. Unafraid of being himself, yet with a sense of insecurity and loathing towards any part of himself that had once fuelled his indifference and cruelty. Bearing a gentle soul that spoke to yours in the kindest of ways, encouraging you to come out of your shell and be more comfortable in your skin. To be yourself and be happy.

Everyone needs a Vex, you thought with some regret. Bitter that the others could not see him like this, save for Kenzi.

And with the events of the afternoon— the snacks and make-up, the talking and the laughing, the relaxed and lighthearted atmosphere— it felt like you'd already been on some sort of amazing date that was coming to a bittersweet or tragic end.

Vex snapped his mascara back into his make-up pouch, admiring his work with an impressed once-over from those glittering hues.

"You best be off then", he told you, nodding towards the clock and reaching for the unfinished bottle of spirits you'd both been sharing earlier. "And I'll be patiently awaiting that mani and facial. After you fill me in on the goss from your night out, of course".

Winking, the Mesmer took a swig from the bottle, nearly losing his mouthful through his nose at your joking quip, "That wasn't part of the deal".

"You can't expect me to do your make-up for you and not at least be told about the kiss!", Vex insisted, feigning offence. "I'm expecting bare minimum". Raising a stern finger at you, you both shared in what now felt like a natural smile, unrestrained and kindred. "Now, off with you".

Still sharing some proximity, you used it as an opportunity to lean forwards and catch the Mesmer's cheek in a swift and brief kiss that was much-deserved on his part. "Thank you".

The Mesmer's fingertips instantly flew up to the flesh that still tingled with the echoes of your touch, uttering out something akin to a soft squeak, "What was that for??".

"For helping me", your reply made his lashes flutter. "For being my friend".

Every word was well-meant and left Vex stunned into silence. It was the first inch of respect or appreciation he'd been gifted in the longest time.

He watched as you nodded to him, a signal that you were making a move to leave and felt a surge of confidence that made him lurch forwards instinctively.

All of it faded just as instantly once the Mesmer's fingers were gently tangled around your wrist. "Wait, Love—".

Thinking something was amiss, your brows creased, "What's wrong??".

Stay, he wanted to plead, knowing he truly had no right to ask it of you. That it would be another act of selfishness he could loathe himself for.

You saw a sense of longing cloud those darker eyes, his mouth parting to talk, but no sound willing to escape.

Vex watched the swipe of your thumb, sweet and reassuring over his paler knuckles, every last ounce of his restraint draining from him when at last he mustered the courage to meet your gaze.

"Oh, sod it all", he relented in a breath, crossing the rest of the space between you and drawing your body against his in one careful movement.

The Mesmer's lips instantly found yours with the precise ducking of his head, the contact tender, inviting and desperate all at once.

Adrenaline claimed your ability to think with every dizzying movement of his mouth into yours, the tastes of spiced liquor lingering on his supple and warm skin.

Any insecurities that were rising within him were silenced with the twining of your fingertips into the fabric of his jacket, anchoring him to you as if to fortify any previous indecision you'd had.

Whilst this erased none of his wrongdoings, perhaps this was a step forwards from your previous differences and towards something better for you both?

"Maybe— Maybe I'd like it if you stayed", Vex mumbled against the parted seam of your lips.

"Is that so?", your teasing drawl irked a sheepish smile from the Mesmer. "I was getting the impression you didn't like me".

"Impressions aren't everything, Love. 'Like' would be an understatement".

An urgent buzz resonated from your pocket, your eyes growing wide with the realisation that your original date was still scheduled for the next half-hour.

"Shit—", your exclamation made Vex giggle as you reached for your flip-phone.

It was a message. From your date.

Your heart stopped as the screen lit up with the message,

'Hope you enjoyed your date with Vex!! I'll be bringing home Bo and pizza laters. Lemme know if you'll be home. Use protection, kids! Kisses!! Xx - Kenz 😎'.

"That—", your mouth fell open incredulously. "That bitch! How did she—".

"Can't say I'm surprised", the Mesmer sighed in faux disappointment. "Those are some sloppy texts right there. It's a wonder you fancied this fella at all— Ouch!". He winced when you flicked his ear.

"You're one to talk", you laughed.

"I'm just saying, I don't mess around when it comes to texts. Just say what you bloody mean and be on with it. No need to be primitive".

"Or Kenzi", your addition irked a chuckle from Vex, his darker eyes growing softer as they continued to observe you.

"I 'spose if she hadn't paid the fella to lead you on before faking these texts herself, we might not have ended up here", he reasoned.

"So, what now?", your brows rose. "We staying for pizza??".

The Mesmer's larger hand found your own before he eagerly pulled you along towards the front door with a shake of his head,

"I didn't waste this whole afternoon doing your make-up to spend the evening with Succubuns and her fanclub". Snatching a set of housekeys from the side table, he offered you a wink, "Let's go make this town unsafe! The night is ours!".

"Dal Riata?".

"Dal Riata".

The End. . .

____________________________________

Hey readers!! ❤❤ I hope you all enjoyed this fic!! It's my first in a long while! As always, any and all feedback is welcome! So, please - let me know how I went in writing these characters and how to improve, if I can! If you wished to be added to my tagslist, check out my masterlist and let me know what you'd like to be tagged in!

Thank you all so much for your support!! 💕💕

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TAGLIST; @demigoddessqueens @deadlymistletoe @ladysaturnsdust

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[mystra-midnight]

Haunted Hoedown - DAY ONE

summary: it was like white-hot lightning engulfed your body, setting your world on fire. lights of red and yellow flashed behind your eyes like a disco dance from hell. eddie didn't try to keep you quiet this time.

warnings: 18+ only. teenage!eddie x housewife!reader. unprotected sex. tiny hint of praise kink. hints of dacryphilia. overstimunation. squirting. age gap (eddie’s is 18, readers is 34). cheating (i don't condone this outside the world of fiction). readers husband and kids have names but reader doesn't; no use of y/n. reader has some body insecurities (but is a total milf in my head tbh).

words: 5.3k

notes: day one of the haunted hoedown challenge being hosted by @inklore and @psychedelic-ink. i'm usually terrible at writing for challenges but i've had so much muse for eddie munson that this literally jumped off the pages. i might had missed the mark with the au setting tbh.

prompt: taboo au + "i'll be your dirty little secret, if that's what you're into."

You woke slowly, sleep heavy in your head, as the twittering of morning birds roused you when you wished it hadn't. The world was still dark, the cresting sunlight hardly peaking over the horizon to illuminate it. On your bedside table, your alarm clock flashed, the hard red numbers burning your eyes.

6:30. Blink. 6:30. Blink. 6:31.

Groaning, you reached up to rub your tired eyes, disturbing the crusties that had formed overnight as you swung your legs to the side of the bed. Your bare feet touch the cold tiles, drawing a shiver down the length of your spine.

It was another mundane Monday: wake up, wake your teenage son, wake the twins, make everyone breakfast, get the twins dressed, drive everyone to school, do the weekly shopping, come home, and clean the house before cooking dinner.

You'd had the same routine every week, every Monday, like clockwork, for the past fifteen years. It wasn't that you regretted marrying your husband or having children. You loved them all, but life had felt boring lately—plain and boring.

You lived a comfortable life. Not above your means or in the lap of luxury, but comfortably. You weren't a nineteen-year-old wild child any more. You were thirty-four, a mature mother. And this morning, it sucked.

Peter touched you for the first time in weeks last night, and it wasn't with a young lover's rage. He'd laid between your legs for an hour until an orgasm punched the air from your lungs, huffing and complaining the entire time, making your climax take longer than it should have. He'd made it seem almost like a chore, and you hadn't said anything; you'd rolled over and gone to sleep, like you had every other time.

And try as you might to understand him, it still hurt. It had been years since he'd surprised you with flowers just because he wanted to. He didn't initiate sex like he used to; there were no spontaneous romps in the kitchen while the kids were out and no skinny-dipping in the pool at midnight.

You knew you'd put on some weight after the birth of the twins. It was harder to lose this time around, and even though he still said you were beautiful and kissed all the parts of your body that you hated, it didn't feel the same anymore. He didn't look at you with wild desire anymore.

You tried to shove your hurt down deep; time changed things; it changed him and you. At least that was what you told yourself while you brushed your teeth, staring at the crows' feet that cinched the edges of your eyes. And you told yourself again as you woke your teenage son, who was in the stage of life where he thought he was ten-foot-tall and bulletproof; he’d inherited your sense of sarcasm, as your husband often reminded you.

And you told yourself a third time while you fried sausage links and scrambled eggs. And finally, you told yourself this for the last time when your husband rushed into the kitchen, panicking because he'd overslept and would be late for work again. He'd barely stopped to acknowledge the breakfast spread on the table. He shoved a triangle of toast into his mouth and then was out the front door without so much as a goodbye.

The next few hours blurred together as you finished getting the twins ready for kindergarten while your teenage son protested having to go to school at all, claiming it was stupid, pointless, and useless. Somehow, by some miracle or divine intervention, you managed to get them all ready and to school on time. But that brought you to your current predicament.

There, sitting on the kitchen counter, was the lunch you'd so lovingly packed for your son. You felt your blood boiling with annoyance, your brain skipping between letting him go hungry or taking it to him. But no matter how mad you were, you couldn't let him starve.

So you drove back to the school, fifteen minutes away, for the second time. A little bell rang as you shoved the door open, which drew Lotti's attention from where she sat behind the front desk. She smiled as you approached.

"Let me guess, Corey forgot his lunch again?"

Her lips were tipped into a kind smile, one that mirrored your own tired expression. You hummed with dry amusement before placing the brown paper bag on the counter. "Walked right past it. I swear sometimes he does it on purpose."

"Sounds about right. Teenagers right?"

"You’re telling me. Can you make sure it gets to him before lunch?"

"Of course."

"Thanks, Lotti," you said with a smile before stepping away from the counter. You had every intention of leaving and going to do the weekly shopping, but you stopped when you saw Eddie Munson sitting on one of the waiting room chairs. He was sitting with his head in his hands, hiding his face, but you could see he was pale and clammy.

Most people wouldn't have given him the time of day, but you liked Eddie. He was friends with your son and was always polite and helpful when he spent the night. He would wash up the dishes and play with the twins to give you a much-needed break.

Eddie was a good kid.

He wasn't trailer trash, as some people had taken to calling him. It always infuriated you when you heard them say such vile things about Eddie and his uncle. People were quick to throw stones, but none of them ever took the time to get to know the people they judged.

You gently placed a hand on his shoulder but still startled the poor boy. Eddie jerked back in his seat and stared up at you with big brown eyes, his raised eyebrows hidden behind his wild curls, and eyes glistening with unshed tears. Your heart broke all over again.

"Eddie, baby, what’s going on? Are you alright?"

"I don’t feel well," he answered, his tone dejected with a hint of misery. You lowered yourself into the seat at his side, sliding your hand up and down his back in a comforting way.

"Is Wayne on his way to take you home?"

"No, ma’am."

You internally flinched. Wayne had raised him to be respectful to his elders and especially to women, and he was, despite his metalhead persona. But when he called you ma'am, you always felt like a frumpy old woman.

"He’s working a double today. He won’t be able to pick me up until after one."

You checked your wristwatch for the time. It was hardly nine in the morning. Eddie would be waiting here for hours, feeling sick, miserable, and uncomfortable. You patted his knee and gave him a soft smile.

"I’ll be right back." You stood and moved back to the counter, smiling as Lotti looked up at your approach.

"Lotti, can you call Wayne for me?"

The beauty of small towns meant that she already knew what thoughts were going through your mind. She dialled the number for the auto shop Wayne worked at and handed you the phone. You listened to the dial tone ring and ring before the line finally picked up.

"Hi Wayne, it’s me."

You worried for a minute that he wouldn’t recognise your voice. You and Wayne went to school together a literal lifetime ago. For a while, you’d been sweet on him, but nothing had come from that school yard crush.

"Hey, love, what do you need?"

"Well, I’m at the school. Corey forgot his lunch again, and Eddie’s here in the waiting room. He’s not well, and I was thinking that since you're not able to pick him up, would it be alright if I brought him home? Just for a few hours until he feels better. He can rest in the spare room."

You didn’t know why you felt the need to explain everything in such detail. It wasn’t like you were about to kidnap his eighteen-year-old nephew and drive to Mexico. And given how small Hawkins was, it wasn’t like you could make it that far. You muffle your amused laughter at the thought when you notice Lotti giving you a strange look.

"You can drop him off at the trailer, love. He’ll be alright alone for a few hours."

You looked over at Eddie, hunched over again, hiding his face in his hands, and you knew that that option wasn’t on the table. You’re shook your head a few times before you remembered that Wayne couldn’t see you. "No, no, it’s okay. I wouldn’t feel right leaving him alone when he’s like this. It'll only be a few hours, and then I’ll drop him home when you finish work, okay?"

"Alright, thanks for this."

"It’s what friends are for, Wayne."

Handing Lotti back the phone, you bid her goodbye a second time before going back to Eddie. You place a hand on his shoulder again. He's prepared this time and isn't surprised to find you staring down at him with kind eyes. "Come on, Eddie. I’m going to take you home with me. We’ll get you some water and medicine, and you can rest until your uncle finishes work."

For a minute, it seemed like he's going to protest before he gives in, likely too tired to refuse your kindness. He follows you to the car in silence and doesn't speak for the entire fifteen-minute drive. You glanced at him now and then to make sure he's okay, only to find him asleep with his cheek smushed against the glass.

He's not happy when you gently shake him awake, but he mumbles a thank-you despite himself. Eddie lets you help him inside the house and into the bed in the spare room, which he could have found himself.

Once he was settled beneath the blankets, his dark curls contrasting with the plush white pillows, you went ahead and got him a glass of water and medicine to help him feel better. He was already asleep when you got back, so you left them on the nightstand before going about the rest of your day.

You'd decided that the weekly shopping could wait until tomorrow, which prompted a silly laugh from you while you washed the dishes from breakfast. It was so scandalous that your Monday weekly shop would be done on a Tuesday. That was about the most exciting thing that had happened since the birth of the twins.

The day became a blur as you moved about the house on autopilot. You picked up toys from the floor and put them into the matching trunks at the end of the twins beds, no doubt mixing up which ones belonged to Alice and which ones belonged to Anna. Then you cleaned Corey's room. You groaned when you opened the door only to find a mountain of spoons, bowls, and cups scattered around his computer desk.

You swore if there was an apocalypse and spoons became the world's currency, he’d never go hungry. You washed them next, then put on a load of laundry to wash while you hung out the load you'd put on earlier in the morning.

By the time midday rolled around, you felt like you were actually accomplishing something, which was a strange feeling. Normally, by this time, you'd feel overwhelmed, underappreciated, and drained all at the same time.

Maybe you felt that way because Eddie was still asleep in the guest room. You'd be mortified if he woke up to find your house in such a sorry state. But you didn't need to worry about that now.

You made yourself something to eat—a simple bologna sandwich—and made one for Eddie as well. He'd been in the room for a few hours now, and you imagined he would wake hungry, especially if he hadn't eaten breakfast again. The few times he’d spent the night here during the school week, he’d woof down the pancakes you made as though he were starving.

Wayne worked hard to provide for him, but you could see it was a struggle. You didn’t mind having Eddie over, feeding him, or even donating clothes when his own were beyond repair. Wayne always promised to pay you back, but you both knew that wouldn’t happen. You’d maybe let him work on your car as a favour, but you could never accept money from him.

With a plate in hand, you knocked on the door. Hearing Eddie's soft groans from the other side, you pushed it open, assuming he was awake. The sight that greeted you was not what you were expecting. He was lying on top of the sheets with his dark denim jeans and boxers shoved down his thighs, cock in his hand as he fisted it.

The sight of his heels digging into the mattress and his hips rising to thrust the length of him into his hand made your brain short-circuit, leaving you wide-eyed and open-mouthed. It was only the sound of the plate clattering against the tiles that drew his attention.

"Oh shit, shit!" Eddie shouted as he yanked a pillow to cover himself. You had already turned away, the door slamming shut behind you as you quickly left the room. You pressed your back against the door and covered your mouth with your hand to stifle the sound of your heavy breathing.

You weren't meant to see that.

You definitely weren't meant to see that.

You squeezed your eyes shut as you tried to calm your racing heart, but it didn't help. Images of him flashed through your mind: the bulge of the veins in his forearm as he tugged relentlessly on his cock, how his lips were parted in breathless gasps, and how your name had sounded like Molton Lava falling from his tongue, hot and heavy.

There had been a bead of pre-cum that you'd seen before his thumb moved over it, spreading it along his shaft like lubricant. His chest had risen and fallen with quick breaths as he worked himself into a frenzy, hurtling towards orgasm like a train with its brakes cut.

Had he been thinking about you? Was that why he'd been moaning your name?

Your face felt like it was burning when he knocked on the door, making you almost jump out of your skin. You held the handle tightly to stop him from opening it; you weren't sure you could look him in the eye right now, but he didn't try.

"I’m sorry," he said softly. He sounded sheepish and sincere. "I didn’t mean for you to see that. It’s just... that you're so fucking hot."

You heard him pause and could swear you heard the gears in his mind turning as he tried to articulate his thoughts. It made you feel better to imagine that he was red in the face, blushing with embarrassment more than the impending orgasm he'd been working himself towards.

"Eddie," your own voice was soft and shaking, as were your hands. It wasn't that Eddie wasn't attractive—hell, if you'd been about ten years younger, you'd be riding him just like you'd ridden his uncle in high school. But you were old enough to be his mother, for crying out loud!

"I can leave if you want."

"No! It's not that." You answered quickly—too quickly—with your thoughts moving too fast for you to make sense of them. It had been years since you'd been this flustered. Peter hadn't made you blush in a long, long time. He didn't touch himself while thinking about you.

He didn't love you anymore; your mind graciously and ruthlessly provided.

"What do you want?" Eddie asked in an impossibly soft voice.

"Jesus, Eddie, I don't know!" You shouted through the door. You felt exasperated, confused, and aroused. "I'm old enough to be your mother. And I'm married!"

He had the good grace to be silent, and while you appreciated the moment with your own thoughts, you found them betraying you. You couldn't stop yourself from imagining Eddie, not your husband. His hands on your body, his lips smashed against yours, his breath on your neck, his fingers gripping the flesh of your hips so tight while his cock split you open.

You mentally admonished yourself.

We're horny teenagers with mummy issues your type now?

No, it wasn't that.

It was Eddie; he was your type.

Brooding, filled with emotional rage, the personification of a rebel yell. With his dimpled smile, wild curls, studded belts, and rings for days, he was every high school girl's wet dream.

"I'll be your dirty little secret if that's what you're into."

You shouldn't want to open the door. You shouldn’t be excited and dripping wet from having caught him masturbating. You shouldn't want him.

But when Eddie said that, it's the nail in the coffin that sealed your fate.

You stared at him after opening the door. A part of you was expecting to see him wearing a malicious smirk or his typical joking smile, the one that's lopsided and goofy. But that same part of you is ecstatic that he was entirely serious and that he's still hard.

The outline of his cock was prominent against his jeans, straining against the zipper as your eyes roved down his body and up, taking in every inch of him. It must have been the look in your eyes that encouraged him because the next second Eddie kissed you, all teeth, tongue, and male arousal.

He was rough as he grabbed your upper arms, pulling you against his chest and into the room. The bedroom door slammed shut with an awful bang seconds before he’d all but thrown you onto the bed.

You shouldn't have enjoyed being manhandled. You shouldn't want him, but you do.

His kisses were hot. It was like lava pouring into your mouth and free-flowing through your veins until it felt like you were burning alive, your skin aflame wherever he touched. His hands were rough but gentle at the same time, leaving you with emotional whiplash. Eddie grabbed you with urgency, as though you were all that kept him from being engulfed in this wild fantasy.

And as he stripped you, methodically removing each article of clothing until you were naked beneath him, he took the time to appreciate every inch of your body. He didn't seem to notice the way you tried to hide yourself—hands covering the stretch marks and skin left behind after pregnancy, your thighs rubbing together to hide the obvious sheen of arousal. You grab his face between your hands and pull him in for another fiery kiss to stop his eyes from wandering.

The pads of his fingers were calloused from summers of hard work with his uncle in the shop and hours of guitar playing, creating a rough drag against your skin. He fondles your tits, palming them, rolling your nipples between his finger and thumb until they pebble, until you whine against his lips; the sound he pulls from your throat is positively whoreish.

By the time he dragged his hands down your stomach, you were soaked, the slick of your arousal dripping down your backside to dampen the mattress. Eddie mouthed your neck, leaving broad, wet stripes over your racing pulse with his tongue. "You're so fucking hot," he groaned while pulling your thighs apart. You want to be embarrassed, but when his lips close around one of your nipples, embarrassment flies out the window.

You should have felt guilty. Your chest should have been tight and your heart heavy. Instead, all you could feel was the delicious slide of his tongue over and around your nipple and the way his teeth burrowed so faintly into your sensitive flesh.

He paid the same attention to the opposite one, sucking, swirling, and biting until both were hardened peaks that crowned your breasts. When he lifted his mouth, your skin glistened with his saliva, a line of it connecting his lips to your nipple before it settled into place on your stomach. And then he was everywhere—his mouth trailing down your stomach, his lips, his tongue, his palmy breath, even all the places that you hated.

He took his time, each caress of his lips and swipe of his tongue unhurried as he worshipped your body in ways you hadn't realised you’d been craving. He pressed his palms against the inside of your knees, forcing your legs apart as he slotted himself between them. His breath was hot against your bare cunt, which glistened with obvious arousal.

Eddie gave a low whistle that made you blush.

"Stop," you whispered when your eyes met his lust-blown orbs. You tried to bring your thighs together to stifle the growing ache at your core, but he forced your knees apart.

The gasp he tore from your throat with the first touch of his tongue was loud and strangled. Eddie used the tip to lick from your clenching hole to your clit, gathering your arousal and swallowing it down with a lustful moan that vibrated through your cunt. His fingers tightened at your knees, leaving prints behind when he licked you again, making your hips buck hard enough to almost dislodge him.

"Jesus Christ, baby," he breathed out. "Your pussy's so fucking juicy."

It was all he said before his mouth was on you, his tongue pushing through your slick folds and into your clenching hole to drag the arousal from you. He was methodical, making your hips jerk and twitch. It was like electricity had replaced your blood, turning your body into live wires and leaving you a twitching, writing mess as Eddie lapped at your cunt relentlessly.

Maybe it was it’s months and weeks of bottled-up frustrations; maybe it’s was your feelings of inadequacy and insecurities melting away; maybe it’s was the sheer ridiculousness of sleeping with someone other than your husband; whatever the reason, Eddie and his wicked tongue have you hurtling towards climaxing faster than you thought possible.

Eddie grabbed your wrists and pinned them to the bed when you pulled on his hair; his mouth was now the only thing that kept your hips pinned. It was the stab of his tongue into your quivering hole and his nose bumping into your throbbing clit that threw you over the edge.

Not once did he stop, even as heaven and hell clashed violently around you, leaving you crying beneath the assault of his tongue. It started with white-hot lightening sparking to life in your heart and then settled into a static hum behind your ears when you sagged back to the bed. Your bones felt like jelly, and your limbs trembled with each aftershock.

His tongue pushed through your folds again and again, leaving you a whimpering mess, which was music to his ears. He left broad, wet stripes along your lips, your clit, and your hole, drawing your orgasm out much longer than you thought possible.

Eddie kissed you hard while you regained your senses and came back to earth, his lips working over yours while he ran his hands down your sides and gripped your hips tightly. "Felt good, baby?" he cooed. His voice sounded almost mocking as he pushed a hand between your thighs, the calloused tips of his fingers a rough drag against your clit as he gathered your spend to lubricate them.

The noise he drew from you was whoreish. Your eyes snapped shut while your back arched involuntarily. You twisted your fingers around the sheets when the pleasure began to race too close behind your first orgasm, bordering on too much, too quickly.

"Eddie, Eddie, please, I'll die," you managed to gasp out, your voice straining when he pushed two fingers into your clenching hole, making the arch in your back deepen. He kissed your neck, his teeth leaving faint marks behind on your skin. You grab at his hair again and pull it hard to make him stop before he can leave bruises for your husband to see.

"Not yet, sweet girl; you can give me another one."

He made it sound like a question, but he wasn’t asking one.

The drag of his fingers through your slick walls had your mind going blank as he doubled down on you. Your head is thrown back as nothing comes out of your parted lips. Your thighs trembled to the point of cramps as your walls spasmed suddenly around his fingers. You'd never known that your orgasms could crash so close together; it's like ocean waves crashing over sand—it happens once, and then again, and again.

It was like there was a string that ran the length of your body, and it was being pulled tighter and tighter by the prod of his fingers as he curled them and changed the angle until he finally found that spongy sweet spot that had galaxies and stars bursting to life behind your eyes. You back arched until it hurt, then snapped straight as he fingered you through your orgasm.

Only when your body went limp did he pull his fingers from you. The sound of them moving through your soaked folds was obscene, but not as much as the sight of him licking them clean. Eddie brought them to his lips, his devil’s tongue snaking free to greedily lap up your spend with a throaty moan.

You blink at him slowly to clear the blur of tears from your eyes, but more fell each time your lashes swept atop the apples of your cheeks. Eddie smiled smugly before moving to stand at the side of the bed so he could strip himself in a hurry. He threw his jacket and shirt across the room haphazardly and left his jeans and boxers pooled together on the floor. You watched with half-lidded doe eyes as he stroked himself.

He was far bigger than you'd realised before. When you'd walked in on him, it had all happened so fast—you'd seen him but hadn't seen him.

You tugged your lower lip between your teeth and chewed on it while he crawled up the bed to hover over you, his cock bobbing proudly against his stomach with each movement. "Ready, pretty girl?" He asked as he mouthed up the hollow of your throat before capturing your lips before you could answer.

It wouldn't take a genius to understand why he's asking. He was giving you a chance to change your mind, to tell him to stop and preserve whatever modesty and dignity you have left. He was giving you an out, but you were already lost in him. Eddie. Eddie. Eddie.

You wrapped your legs around his hips and dug your heels into the backs of his thighs to bring him closer. The glide of his cock between your slick folds and the way his mushroom head nudged your overstimulated clit, were delicious. You moaned against his lips. Eddie took this as permission and sank into the warm, wet tightness of your cunt with a single thrust, hissing with pleasure as he seated himself fully within your walls.

"So fucking tight for me," he grunted against your lips. His teeth were clenched, and his eyes were screwed shut as he stilled and gave you a moment to adjust to his invasion. Eddie was bigger than Peter, both in length and girth, leaving your brain short-circuiting and sparking. He was pressed against every delicious spot inside your gummy walls, so that it felt like he was pressed against your cervix, and deeper still.

Your lips opened and closed and opened again in silent, breathless moans when he began to move, setting a gruelling pace right from the start. You weren't a virgin; he knew that. He knew he didn't need to go slow or be gentle. He could throw you over the edge and into oblivion and make you scream his name without any preamble.

He took over your world as he fucked you.

The scent of his cologne was deep in your lungs from where your face was buried against the side of his neck, just so you could attack his skin with sweet kisses and blistering bites. Your hands mapped every inch of his skin that you could reach, committing each detail to memory: the faint dusting of freckles over his nose, the slope of his neck, the way the muscles down his back would shift and tense each time he moved, drawing out and thrusting back in with wild intent.

You could feel yourself oozing—a warm trickle of liquid that rolled down your backside only to be lost in the sheets as he fucked you hard enough to make your tits and tummy jiggle. And as he frantically kissed you, desperately trying to keep you from being too loud, you saw the way his jaw tensed and the flush of colour that crept up his throat and into his face. He was steamrolling towards orgasm like a skydiver caught in a free fall, no wind in his sails, no way to stop.

"Eddie, Eddie." It was a whine, a desperate plea, but for what? You couldn't say.

You canted your hips, raising them to meet the piston of his, so that he could drive himself as deep as possible and crash into the spongy sweet spot he'd found earlier. And when he found it, he didn't stop.

Eddie grabbed one of your hips hard enough to leave bruises in the shape of his fingers and pinned you hard against the mattress. His other hand snaked between your bodies to find your clit, which was still sensitive and throbbing. Eddie drew tight, quick circles around your nub, punching more and more air from your lungs with each rotation when, out of nowhere, the pressure suddenly becomes too much.

The way all your muscles seize had you suddenly panicked, your walls tightening around him like a vice, earning a hiss of pleasure from his tight-lipped expression. He still didn’t stop. You stare at him wide-eyed, your voice strangled, as you try to articulate the way the pressure is building too fast and moving too far beyond what you understand is normal.

"Ed-Eddie, fuck, s'too much!" You cried out as you threw your head from side to side. Tears fell from your eyes like waterfalls, sliding down your temples and disappearing into your sweat-damp hair. You felt yourself tightening around him. He managed a deep groan at the first sign of your leaking cunt.

You grabbed his wrist wildly, your nails clawing at his skin. Your body trembled violently, screamed at you to make him stop. Your brain begged for more.

Another perfectly aimed thrust of his hips, his cock sliding through your quivering walls, his thumb on your clit changing directions, finally broke you. You threw your head back; your eyes opened wide, but you saw nothing as you screamed. It was like white-hot lightning engulfed your body, setting your world on fire. Lights of red and yellow flashed behind your eyes like a disco dance from hell.

Eddie didn't try to keep you quiet this time. Each drawback and push forwards deluged his cock with liquid. He still didn't stop. His mouth was affixed with awe, permanently hanging open as you drenched him, yourself, and the sheets. "Holy fucking hell, baby, just like that, Jesus... fuck, fuck, fuck!"

He couldn't hold back, even if he'd wanted to. He grabbed you roughly by the hips, keeping you pinned to the mattress as he buried himself. Eddie came hard—harder than he'd ever come before. He felt each rope shoot from himself despite the tremors in his body, and he knew that you felt it too. Your walls were on repeat, gripping him, releasing him, and gripping him again, like a record stuck on repeat.

There was relief in his eyes when he slumped forwards, his chest pressing tight against yours. He brushed his face into the crook of your shoulder, curls tickling at your skin as he laughed breathlessly. "I didn't know you could do that," he muttered against your dewy skin, tasting your sex-sweet sweat.

"I didn't know I could do that."

[kishibe-kisser]

Hi :) can I request a Ghost x fem reader where he realizes he loves her during a battle he thinks he might not make it back from. And him confessing to her once back at base? You can mark it smutty if you wanna. :)

Oh I love a bit of angst. I got you.

Same Book Different Chapter (Ghost/Angst&Fluff)

The apartment was quiet aside from the rustling of his bag as he packed his bag. It had been quiet for the last few hours and you felt like even breathing was annoying him. The air was thick with your anxiety and his fear, even though he wouldn't let you know it.

Looking at him from the couch, you pulled your knees to your chest. You had a lot of things you wanted to say, alot of feelings you wanted air out but everytime you opened your mouth it was to dry to say a word. It didn't matter, Simon's actions had made it very clear that he wasn't in the mood to talk. You hadn't been in a relationship very long in the first place but in this very moment you felt it dwindling. His job made things difficult and you knew this when you started dating. In this very moment though, you weren't sure there'd be a relationship when he returned.

You loved him, you loved the person he was even like this. You'd never said it and he never returned the thought remotely, despite that you still loved him. You liked to think you were both on the same page, well maybe the same chapter... well maybe the same book.

"I'm going to bed, you can join or continue to sulk on the couch over there." His voice was gruff and laced with sarcasm. This was how he joked, you knew that and while you forced yourself to laugh, you couldn't bring yourself to make it sound genuine. "There we go." He remarked, holding out a hand for you to take with a small smile. There was definitely a place in his heart for you, you just weren't sure how big it was and well, neither was he.

You spent your night tossing and turning while he slept, or so you thought. Simon couldn't sleep a wink, he never could before going on a mission and well your moving around wasn't exactly helping. He wanted to comfort you but at the same time the weight on his shoulders was heavy enough, your worry wasn't needed. Simon liked you, he liked you alot but in moments like this he knew he would have been better off single.

"Hey, eyes open. What's your problem today?" Price shouted, making sure his voice was loud enough to be heard over the whirring of the plane engine. Simon opened his eyes and just grunted in response. He was trying to catch a few minutes of extra sleep before being dropped in the middle of whatever hell hole they were going to. "Love issues?" Soap teased and his eyes shot open once more, glaring over at the team. It was none of their business.

"Y/N causing you grief? Thought you liked her... alot." Price asked and Simon just shook his head. "Couldn't sleep last night, she kept moving and tossing and turning. It was irritating." He grumbled, lying through his teeth. He thought it was irritation, it was a newer feeling for him the guilt of leaving someone behind before going on a mission misread as irritation.

"She's worried about you. It must be nice to have someone waiting for you when you get back." Price looked at him and Simon shook his head. "I'm thinking about ending it when we get back." Simon felt an ache when he said it, a sign telling him what he was saying wasn't right but he ignored it. Whether he liked you or not, it wasn't important. Your worry was a burden he didn't need, at least he thought he didn't need.

"Let's change the subject shall we." Simon silenced the murmur and opinions of the rest. They were his good mates and normally he didn't particularly care about the things he had to say when it came to relationships, but this was more sensitive to him than he realised. He shut his eyes and rested his head in his seat, still searching for sleep that would never reach him.

He was on high alert, gun tucked into his shoulder as his eyes darted around the room. It was quiet, too quiet and he didn't trust it for a second. Simon could see it in the whole team, everyone was on edge and it was rare for an assignment to have everyone feeling this way.

"Ghost, you got a bad feeling too?" Soap asked, making eye contact with him through the mask. "Yeah, never quite understood what Y/N meant when she said she could feel it in her stomach but I'm starting too." He said, thoughts of you unexpectedly flooding his brain. "She always talks about this wave of nausea and scrunches her nose." He added on, thinking about just how cute you actually were. "Thinking an awful lot about her even though you wanna end it." Soap remarked whipping his head around to see if there was movement in his peripheral vision. "Ending it is on my mind. That's why I'm thinking about her." He lied and raised his gun. "Movement to the left." He added on, hoping the thoughts about you would leave. He needed to focus.

"Oh shit, we got a big group of guys coming this way." Soap called through the coms as they started taking fire. The rest of the team was retrieving data as they returned fire, hiding behind a wall. "We'll be back soon, try holding them off." Price told them through coms, making Simon sigh before laying down fire.

"How much longer?" Simon called through coms, not appreciating that it seemed like the rest of the team was taking their sweet time to get back. "Don't get your panties in a twist, we're coming back now. Some cover fire would be nice though." Price told him, matching his irritate tone. Bumps in the road like this weren't a welcome surprise. "Better be no more surprises." Soap remarked and Simon could only shake his head. "Better be."

Shots rang through the building and Simon thoughtlessly returned fire, at first. The intrusive thoughts were running rampent and he absolutely despised them, you were popping into his mind with every shot. He didn't want to imagine what it would be like coming back from a mission without seeing you. He was regretting being an asshole before leaving and he was regretting not reassuring you all would be fine. He hated thinking that you were at home a worried mess about him. He was realizing you had reason to worry, reason to be an anxious mess before he left as shots flew around him.

He loved you, he knew it now. Now that a stray shot hit his chest, missing his vest and tearing through his skin. No, not now, not right now, not when he's realised this, not when he's worried about you, not when he knows you love him.

His hand shot to the wound, trying to stay up only to stumble to his knees. "Ghost! Ghost, stay up, stay awake!" Soap called out, Simon's hearing going in and out with each word. He'd experienced getting shot before, he'd experienced pain but the fear was new. Price and Soap hovered over him, the shooting having dimmed down and the room getting darker and darker with each with each breath. "It'll be okay Ghost, we're going to get you out of here." Price's tone sounded panicked, Ghost getting hurt wasn't something he had thought would happen.

Black seeped in from the corners of his vision and he let himself relax, the only thoughts in his mind being you as he grew tired and cold. At least if he was going to go, he was going to leave the world with his last thoughts being of you.

It was the call you had feared to receive from the moment you started dating him. It was the call no one ever wanted and the moment you heard, you were in your car and driving to the base. You had tried your best not to cry at all, trying to be strong as you walked through the sterile halls of the hospital. Seeing him in the hospital bed however, quickly changed that and tears brimmed your eyes.

"Doctors said he's going to pull through, he's just been resting a lot." Captain Price told you, his hand on your shoulder for comfort. "If I would have known this was going to go south like this, never would have done it. I'm sorry, Y/N." He added on and you looked at him, not allowing the tears to fall down. "It's okay. Simon's the strongest person I know, if anyone can pull through it's him and I'll help if I can... if he wants me too." You nodded, hugging yourself for comfort and glancing to Simon in the bed. "He wants you too, he wants you. He might not say it, but he does and he won't admit it, but he needs you." Price rubbed comforting circles in your shoulder as you nodded. "I'll give you two a moment." He finished and nodded reassuringly before leaving the room.

You took a deep breath, pulling a chair up to his bed and staring at him for a moment. The steady beeping of a heartrate monitor being the only thing you could hear aside from your shaky breaths. You were even hesitant to hold his hand, but Price's words weighed on your mind.

"He's right you know." His gruff voice surprised you, making dry up your tears. "Simon-" You grabbed his hand, watching as he turned his head to look at you with gritted teeth. He had heard the whole conversation, not wanting to startle you while you talked but he had a few things on his mind.

"I need to tell you something." He was looking at you, wanting to reach up and wipe the tears from your cheeks. "Simon, it can wait." You told him, nodding reassuringly while you stroked his hair. "No, it can't." He tried sitting up and you placed a hand on shoulder, shaking your head no but he was stubborn. "It really can't because it kept me distracted the whole mission." He added on and a wave of guilt tore through your body, did this happen because of you.

"I'm sorry." You said, tears flowing more and more as you broke down. "No, no this isn't your fault. I was an ass to you before leaving, not talking to you and acting like everything was okay." Simon was finding it hard to say especially now, facing you dead on. "Your worry annoyed me and I didn't know how to deal with it. I was going to end it when I got back but I realised how much I need you, how badly I need you. That your worry is good." You were quiet, appreciating the apology and waiting for what else he had to say. Knowing Simon, this wasn't easy.

"I love you. I didn't think we were at that stage yet or at least, I wasn't there. But I am, I am all in now. I like your worry, I need it. I need you there when I come back from a mission, to hold my hand in moments like this. I need you." He finished and your tears flowed even more freely. Your expression was unreadable to him, his hands coming up to hold your face as you cried.

"I love you too." You told him, letting out the shaky breath you didn't realise you were holding. He kissed your lips gently, much more gentle than you were used to and you melted against him. No longer crying from his words but from relief that he was actually okay.

"Considering you love my worry now." You started, wiping your face and smacking his arms harshly. "Getting that call was singehandedly the scariest thing I've ever been through! Don't ever scare me like that ever again." You cried, watching him chuckle before softly hugging you as his body was incapable of doing anything else.

"Yes ma'am."

A/N: I decided to leave the smut out as it didn't really fit the direction I decided to go in. I hope you enjoy it none the less!

[what-the-dark-has-foretold]

Days like This

Gilbert von Obsidian x fem!reader

Navi.

Warnings: smut, mdni, Gilbert bites (not that that's a surprise), implied spy (and/or maid)!reader

Autumn Festival 2024

Wordcount: ~900

Desperate shivers followed each touch; his fingers like ice – cold and unforgiving. The gentle brush disconcerting – too gentle. Too kind. You could feel his gaze on you, forcing your throat and heart to constrict painfully. He was too observant.

A gasp could not be suppressed when the tips of his fingers trailed down your collarbone and towards your chest. Your skin was covered in goosebumps. Finally, his soft hum pierced your hazy mind.

“It suits you.” As he said that, he traced the chain of your necklace, only stopping when he reached the Obsidian stone laying between your breasts. Deliberately ignoring how your breath came out shallow, he picked up the pendant to look at it up close. “What an honour this must be for you.”

Although you knew him well enough to pick up on the hidden sarcasm, behind it, you were sure, you could sense a trace of fondness. It took you a lot of strength to meet his gaze. His eyebrows shot up in surprise, but he said nothing, waiting for your response.

“It is,” you smiled at him. “I treasure every present you give me.”

His chuckle was sardonic, still, you felt his fingers linger, as if trying to feel your heartbeat. There was something flickering in his eyes for but a moment, still you caught it.

Only you knew that he was desperate himself. Only you knew how much he truly longed for a loving touch. How much he didn´t just want to take, but also be given readily. A decision was made in a split second:

“Come here.” He followed your call as if he had waited for it, followed you as you laid back on his bed, rested his head on your chest. He coughed, but neither of you mentioned it. The colder days would be hard on him. Your fingers carded through his hair and ran down his back. His body relaxed under your gentle caresses.

Like this, he did not seem so threatening anymore. He all but sought out your touch, voice cracking in a suppressed whine whenever you seemed to pull away. Then, his lips would find their way to your throat, mouthing at the sensitive skin. Soon, he would start to bite. His hold on you would tighten.

He was a conqueror once more, and you were but a simple retainer. His most prized possession, his most trusted agent.

Ice cold fingers brushed over exposed skin, untying the laces of your dress to render even more of your body utterly his. Teeth followed his fingers everywhere, your skin soon blooming with stinging red marks. He would only be satisfied, when all of you was evidently his.

The mattress dipped under his movement. He heaved himself up, eyes blazing at the sight of you shy – averting your gaze – with your dress partially undone.

“You look lascivious,” he rasped, darkened eyes roaming your writhing figure.

“Gilbert.” You're pleading eyes met his. He sighed, though a little grin played on his lips.

“Oh, come on,” he hummed. Gently, he brushed a stray strand of your hair back, then leaned down to finally capture your lips in a searing kiss. He couldn't help the groan that escaped him at your taste, and he gripped your hips so tight you were sure he would leave even more marks.

Spit connected you when he pulled away. His breath was hot on your face – a stark contrast to his ice-cold touch.

A single heavy look from him was enough for you to pull off your dress completely.

His fingers dipped between your legs, tracing the tip of your clit, then delving deeper and pressing into you. He watched as your back arched and your mouth opened in a silent cry of pleasure, glad that you were unable to see the furious blush spreading over his cheeks.

Far too soon he retracted his hand.

You were not giving much reprieve before the blunt tip of his cock tapped heavy on your entrance. Gilbert caught your lips when he sunk into you. Groaning against your mouth. His strokes were steady – slow but deep and resolute – making your body jolt every time he plunged into you.

His arms buckled at times, but you did not comment on it, instead let your hand trail down his body. He rested his chin on your shoulder, face hiding in the curve of your neck as he sped up. Under his rhythmic thrusts you played with your clit, keening from all the stimulation.

Carefully, you turned your head. His breath had become heavy, his groans lower, his pace hungrier. The way his eyebrows drew together in a frown told you all you needed to know. Sharp nails dragged up his shoulders and to his neck until you finally reached his cheeks. Gently, you pulled him up. He continued pounding into you while you held his face gingerly. Your moans grew louder and he leaned down to press one last searing kiss to your lips before finally stuffing you with his cum.

This was the only time he lost control, hips stuttering against you in erratic thrusts. You came when you felt him twitch inside of you. Moments later you were crushed by his weight. You laughed, but played with his hair, pretending not to notice the content smile pressed against your skin.

Cold days should always be spend like this.

[emsgwenstan]

Papers and ink

Larissa Weems x student reader (platonic)

Warnings: mentions of sh, blood, traumatic experiences?

Words: about 4K.

Idk what this is just came out, it is a lil bit heavy but very quick, a lot more details could have been said but I’ll leave that to ur imagination. I used ‘mum’ instead of ‘mom’ because one I’m Australian and two Larissa is English so… enjoy xx

———

Sitting on your bed with your so called diary; the one you criticised other’s for having because it’s such a cliche for a teenage girl to have, you drew on todays page, no words wanting to form from your brain to paper. Your doodling was interrupted by a knock at the door, if it were your roommate she wouldn’t have knocked.

“Principal Weems.” You said, moving the book and pens to the side and asking her to sit. “Afternoon y/n, how are you darling?” She asked, tilting her head down trying to catch your gaze. “Well, I suppose, and you?” You wondered, meeting her gaze with a superficial smile, one that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “I’m fine, I wanted to check up on you.” She pressed. “Yes, a welfare check up on the poor depressed, sick, burden of a student, right?” You sighed, feeling a little guilty at your backhandedness. “That’s not funny y/n, I’m serious I need to know how you are, not as a care provider or principal, but as me, I need you to talk and confide your trust in me, you can’t shut down again, not after what happened last time.”

You dropped the sarcasm and caught onto her tone. Larissa was referring to a couple of months ago when she asked for students help with carrying some things to a classroom, but in the midst of moving a box, your jumper sleeve rode up and she saw the markings embellished in your skin, and the slivers of blood seeping through the material. Since than she makes it a routine thing to check on you every four days, as annoying as it is, you understand her worry and have come to enjoy her company.

“I’m fine, honestly.” You spoke through your teeth, pleading to what ever she would just leave it alone, you weren’t that lucky. “Show me.” She said. “What?” You were shocked, knowing exactly what the principal is talking about. “Your arms, I will believe you if you show me.” She calmly asked. “No.” You said avoiding her. “Than you are in fact not fine, sweetheart.” She said placing a hand on you knee.

After a while of silence you decide to lift off your hoodie all together, Larissa didn’t move a muscle, instead just waiting for where your going with this. You outstretched your arm and lay your palm face up in her lap. Larissa’s gaze went from the floor to your skin, blinking slowly almost as if it were painful to do so she was met with the familiar red raw lines that stared back at her in torment.

“When was the last time?” She asked, placing her fingertips round the raised wounds. “Night before last…. I’m sorry.” You whispered. “Don’t apologise, I understand. I cannot stop you but it’s disappointing darling, not that I’m disappointed in you, just how you have fallen to having the need to harm yourself.” Larissa’s voice broke and her eyes glazed over. “I’m still sorry though, I… I don’t want to hurt you.” You said with furrowed brows and a heavy bottom lip. “You aren’t y/n. I just wish I could take all of you pain away from you, but I will spend as long as it takes to make you feel better ok?” She curled her hand in yours and used the other to cup your cheek showing her sincerity.

You could see the internal debate with herself displayed on her face before she spoke. “I’d like to share something with you.” Larissa said stroking your cheekbone. “Ok…” You breathed. “when I was your age I shared the same illness, I was in a downward spiral for a very long time. I used to be someone that did everything for everyone and didn’t get a single thing in return, I had crushes and had enough courage to tell them and I was humiliated every time I was turned down. I tried my best in every aspect, academically and socially, every bit of my life and it never seemed to be enough, all parts just crumbled, at least that’s how it felt.” Her face contorted as she reminisced her dark past.

You placed your free hand on top of your already intertwined ones, trying to show your interest and support wanting her to continue. “So… I turned to harming myself.” Her words twisted in your stomach feeling the sense of dread set in, releasing how she must feel about you. Larissa readjusted the way she was sitting, removing her hand from your face to the hem of her dress, also revoking your grasp on her hand to shimmy up the fabric until it bunched around her hips and the tops of her thighs were displayed.

Your eyes widen at the sight of the faded lacerations that adorned her legs. Your mouth fell open as your gaze switched between the principles eyes and her legs. As if you couldn’t control your actions, fingers went curiously towards her scars, but snapping back to reality you slowed. “May I… can-“ you stuttered not exactly sure of what you want yourself. Larissa however, knew what you wanted, she hooked her fingers under yours and brought them to her old wounds.

The feeling of her healed but raised flesh was bewildering, tracing every line with astonishment, curiosity and admiration you didn’t know how to comprehend words. “It’s been a very long time, 26 years actually, but I won’t lie to you… I do have thoughts of doing it again, but I don’t because I have young ones like you I have to set an example for, but also because I don’t really need to either.” She admitted.

“So… how did you get better?” Your small voice hoping for a easy remedy. “I-.” She started before you cut her off by quickly searching your bed. Grabbing a pen you told her to continue. Regaining where she was up to with your question she began to speak again. “I had to let my self feel bad and try to help myself, find healthy coping mechanisms and get out more, socialise and do the things I enjoy instead of putting them off, anything to keep the voice in my head at bay, after a while it got easier, less feeling the need to hurt myself, more moving forward from the dark and into the lighter parts of life.”

You open the pen and with out asking started to draw little stars over her scars, Larissa knows you function and concentrate best whilst using your hands. “What made you do it in the first place? If that’s ok, you don’t need to answer.” You paused to look deep into her eyes showing your interest and wanting her to know your care. Larissa hesitated before speaking, it’s only now she comes to realise herself that this is the first time she’s ever told anyone about her history.

“It was a few days after the 1991 rave’n, my best friend was my roommate and also happened to be my first serious crush, I hadn’t mentioned I was interested in woman, partly due to the times, but because I thought I hinted it enough that she’d know, we told each other everything and were more like sisters than friends, so a couple of weeks before the night of the dance we were talking and I tried to ask her If she’d like to go with me, but she somehow assumed I wanted to go with the boy she liked. The whole situation spiraled out of control and I couldn’t find the strength to admit to her she was the one I wanted, things after that were strained to say the least, she switched rooms and hardly spoke to me, my parents at the time were quite forceful and invasive so I couldn’t turn to anyone, no family and no friends.” She took a long deep breath once she had finished her confession.

“I’m so sorry principal Weems, that must have been really tough, although I’ve had similar experiences to.” You said avoiding her gaze. “Would you like to talk to me about it?” Larissa questioned, hoping that her confession might have been an icebreaker too breech your own conflicts.

“A couple of months ago I finally admitted to myself that I liked girls… I mean i still like boys to but, I don’t know I just feel like because it’s such a common thing now, I don’t want to seem like I’m only saying it to fit in or try to be apart of something if that makes sense. I also understand the parents thing, probably more than most people you will meet, I’m a child of a divorced marriage as your aware and I’ve been manipulated and shaped since a young age, coming here is the only stability I have, I’m just grateful that I don’t have to go back and fourth between families and homes anymore, but also at the same time I feel more lonely than ever.” You spoke unabashedly, laying it out for her to understand, Larissa is your mother figure witch makes you feel safe enough to talk bout things you would dare tell anyone else, but because she’s not biologically a parent it gives you the notion that Larissa has no obligation to treat you like a small child but a daughter she’s never had.

Larissa stored the information amidst her heart as you spoke. “Have you told anyone else?” She asked. “No. Only one girl I had a crush on, but she turned me down and we haven’t spoken since.” You said with tears welling in your eyes, remembering the feelings attached to the time. Larissa was so touched at your openness to her she began to cry. “Oh sweetheart.” She tutted. “So am I the first person you’ve opened up to about this?” She asked shakily. You nodded in response. Larissa’s flood gates opened as she embraced you in the tightest hold of your life.

“I didn’t mean to upset you.” You said in a delicate tone, sincerely sorry for making her emotional. “No darling girl, I just- I love you so much and I know that may be somewhat inappropriate, but it’s the truth.” Larissa spoke into your hair while stroking it. “You know, Your exactly the kind of mother I’ve always wanted.” You whispered. Larissa drew back and let out a watery chuckle as she tucked strands of hair behind your ears. “Than I shall do my best to be that person for you sweetheart.” You smiled and wrapped your arms back around her torso and buried your head in her chest.

A little while later, Larissa was still by your side, but propped up on her elbow with her shoeless feet tucked behind her laying on the bed listening to you explain some of you favourite things and how connected you are with art, she adores how passionate you are and how you find the underlying meaning behind the most simple of things like music, poetry, books and paintings. Larissa finds herself realising how similar you are to her and will never have a problem finding a topic to discuss.

Hours went by and she left before your roommate came home, telling you to have a wonderful rest of your night and she will catch up with you tomorrow before kissing your forehead and murmuring sweet dreams. You felt full of happiness after your heavy afternoon, you couldn’t help but decide to find every sharp thing you own and wander down to the large bins that were placed at the back of the academy, the second the things were disposed you took a deep breath and watched the sunset, knowing that you will never mark yourself again, a turning point, a new beginning you owe it to yourself and to Larissa.

———

Two months had passed and it was spring break, being back at your houses with your family’s was exhausting, already after only three days things started to fall back into pattern with them, however you decided that this was it. No more suffering to survive in a place that should be a haven. No more pleasing the unpleaseable. You have a voice and used it, the world did feel like it was coming to and end but it was only the beginning of a next chapter.

Collecting your belongings that you really wanted, you packed and said goodbye for the last time, no hug no forced physical affection, nothing. Both of your parents were to offended to care about your decision, leaving you with no respect for the pair whatsoever. Nevermore was your home, and Larissa was your mother. With the last bit of money you had left, a one way ticket to the academy was bought, with a pit stop on the way.

———

Arriving back at the empty school, your excitement mimicked the first time you drove through the iron gates two years ago, except now you know where you are and that this is the place you belong.

Making your way up the steps with three suitcases was a difficult task but with the determination of discarding them in your room and finding Larissa was all it took to power through the maze of stone.

The principal gave you her phone number not to long after your heart to heart conversation so you bring up her contact on you phone and called her whilst walking to her office. You knew she would be here she told you that and you’ve come to know she keeps her word in every aspect. The second it starts dialling, butterflies erupted in your stomach. ‘I’m coming’ you thought releasing your breath in a chance to settle the nerves.

“Hello darling, are you ok?” She picked up. “Hey, yeah I am, I was just wondering how you are?” You wondered grinning to yourself as you were approaching the stairs to her office. “I’m ok, I do miss you though, how are you holding up?” She sighed. “I will be very well soon.” You said. “Oh? Why’s that?” She asked. You knocked on her door hearing it both from your perspective and on the line. “Just a second, that’s odd someone’s here.” Larissa paced to the door and opened it holding her phone to her chest. Her face lit up at the sight of you.

“Oh y/n! Your here!” She squealed. You hung up and launched yourself towards her engulfing her in a bear hug, with your arms around her neck and legs around her waist. “My goodness, how are- why are you here!?” She giggled tossing her phone onto the nearest seat, wrapping her arms around you. “It’s a long story but it can wait. I missed you so much.” You mumbled into her neck, smelling her perfume that has become quite nostalgic. Hopping down you grab her hand and drag her back to the office chair whilst you sit on top of the desk In front of her. Larissa really let’s you get away with everything.

“I have a present for you.” You said excitedly.  “for me?” She asked incredulously. “Yes, although I don’t know how you will feel about it.” It came out very weary, all of a sudden the nervousness set back in. ‘Fuck it’ you thought, pulling out the papers from your back pocket. “I got these on my way back in Burlington. I may or may not have somehow stolen them, because they wouldn’t just give them to me but… I have them.” You handed her the folded papers and bit your lower lip in waiting.

Larissa gave you the look after your statement, the look that you so desperately wanted for a long time, the look that says ‘really? Well your lucky I love you’ look. She slowly opened up the paper and gasped. You swallowed thickly, not knowing if it was a good thing or a bad thing. “Y/n.” Larissa breathed as she looked at you in shock, her hand came to rest over her gaping mouth. “Is that ok?” You wondered. She was silent for a minute trying to wrap her head around what was happening.

“Ye-… yes.” Larissa choked out. “You want… you want me to adopt you?” She asked. “I would want anyone else to be my mother but you.” You said as if it were the surest thing you had ever spoken. “So would you… want, to be my uhh…?” Larissa stood and opened her draw without saying anything and pulled out a pen and started to sign every page.

Putting the cap back on and tossing it back in her draw she turned to you and cupped your face. “I can’t think of anyone else I would rather have as my child.” She said kissing your hair and pulling you to her chest.

“I actually have a surprise for you to.” Larissa said taking a step back. “Really?” You asked. “Yes, we’ll sort of.” She began. “The pen you used to draw on my leg a couple of months ago was a permanent marker… and after a few days it was starting to fade, so I thought before it disappears I should make it literally permanent.” She says while pulling up her skirt. “I traveled to Burlington and had it tattooed.” You sat there in shock as you saw the stars exactly the same as when you drew them on there. “Oh principle Weems, I- I don’t know what to say.” Larissa chuckled and smiled down at you. “I will forever have a piece of you with me sweetheart.” You grinned and realised she really did love you as much as you love her.

“I was just trying to find the right time to tell you.” She stated. “Weren’t you telling me that you didn’t approve of tattoos?” You said cheekily. “Well… I’m a hypocrite, but this was special.” She said. You giggled at her words and flexed forward to give her a kiss on the cheek and thank her. “You know when this goes ahead, I was thinking you would like to stay with me?… as in live closer, I have a spare bedroom attached to the other side of my office across from my own quarters?” She quietly questioned, waving her arm in the direction of the room. “Of course!” You shrieked with excitement. “But um, do I still have to call you principle Weems?” You asked sheepishly. “Oh god no. Larissa it’s fine or mu-…what ever you prefer.” She cut herself of before she could finish the word, Larissa didn’t want to overstep due to the fact that she still doesn’t know the situation with your own family, but she doesn’t feel selfish to think that she could be a better mother than your own. “I like that.” You stared at her with a grin, she said cocking a brow hoping you’d continue. “Mum.”

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Obviously it’s very difficult to stop a habit like sh and it’s not always just an immediate stop but for the sake of this story I think it was wise to just put a graceful end to it. If personal experiences are revamped please be safe, love you and ur doing great xxx