#would you believe me if i said it was the best place i could find

[ghostedgwen]

Hiii I adore ur James fic but we need more Moony! what if reader is Remus' childhood friend and they have been attached at the hip until he met the Marauders and once they've graduated she becomes a Potioneer and basically invents the Wolfsbane Potion and when he finds out it was invented by her they meet again and she admits she invented it for him could end up vaguely platonic but you can also make it full on Remus x reader up to you!! thanks!!xx!!!!

never too late | r.lupin

note : Hello anon, thank you for this lovely request!! Been thinking about this request a lot and finally got around to writing it while I was looking after my sick wife. Yall seem to enjoy my really long fics so here's 6k words for Remus <3

warnings : childhood friends drifting apart, some angst with comfort, mentions of Remus' werewolf struggles, Remus as a cane user, very very slow burn sorry

Remus was a childhood friend you slowly drifted apart with, he had the Marauders and you had Potion books. Years later, you did the impossible of inventing Wolfsbane Potion, he thought it was the best time to reach out.

You never thought Hogwarts would feel so far away from home.

The boat rocks gently under your legs as lanterns sway above the water, casting warm reflections across the lake. Around you, the other first years whisper excitedly, pointing at the silhouette of the castle glowing in the distance. But your eyes aren’t on the castle. They’re on the boy sitting across from you - Remus Lupin, your best friend since you were barely old enough to hold a wand.

He doesn’t speak. He rarely does when he's nervous. His fingers twist the sleeves of his robes, and the shadows under his eyes are darker than usual. Most people wouldn’t notice. But you do. You've always noticed things about Remus.

You grew up together in Whispermere, a quiet magical village tucked between a haunted wood and an old apothecary. The kind of place where magic hummed through the stones and gossip moved faster than broomsticks. There were never many children, so the two of you became a pair soinseparable, like a matched set of spellbooks.

When you were eight, you figured it out. The absences, the injuries, the nights when his house went silent and the air felt heavy with something unspoken. And one day, he finally admitted it.

“I’m a monster,” he whispered, curled on the floor of your room after the worst full moon you’d ever seen him return from.

You remember the rage that sparked in you. Not at him - never at him, but rather, at the world.

“You’re not a monster,” you said, voice steady even though your hands were shaking. “You’re just Remus. That’s enough.”

He didn’t believe it, not then. Maybe he still doesn’t, but you meant it.

You always have.

Now, as the boats drift toward the stone docks and the castle towers above you like a dream, your fingers brush against his. You squeeze gently, a silent reminder: I’m still here.

Inside, the Great Hall takes your breath away with its floating candles, enchanted ceiling, golden plates that shine even without food on them yet. It’s everything you imagined and more. Everything you have read paled in comparison.

Then names are called.

One by one, first years step forward, trembling under the Sorting Hat’s scrutiny.

And then -  “_______, _____”

You turn to Remus and try to smile, but your chest feels like it’s caving in.

“Wish me luck,” you whisper.

He nods. “You don’t need it.”

You sit on the stool. The Sorting Hat drops onto your head, and immediately a voice purrs in your ear.

“Well, aren’t you an interesting one… Clever, sharp, fiercely loyal. Curious about everything. You’d do well in Hufflepuff. Maybe even Gryffindor... but no, you don’t just want to be brave. You need answers. You want to understand the why behind everything. And that, dear one, means only one thing…”

A pause. You feel the Hat probing something deeper.

“You’re thinking about someone else… the Lupin boy. Hmm. Very protective, I see.”

“He’s my best friend,” you think fiercely. “I want to stay close to him.”

The Hat chuckles, deep and amused. “A noble thought. But you’ll both need to grow. Apart, if you must. Don’t fear it. You’ll find your way.”

Then, aloud, it shouts: “RAVENCLAW!”

You slide off the stool, applause ringing in your ears. The Ravenclaw table welcomes you with warm smiles and curious glances. But your eyes scan the room, following Remus as he soon takes his turn.

The Hat takes longer this time. You bite your lip.

Then - “GRYFFINDOR!”

He looks toward you, unsure. You give him a thumbs-up and a grin that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. You’d promised to stick together, but Hogwarts, it seems, had its own plans.

Weeks pass. You find your place among the Ravenclaws, high in their airy tower. You answer riddles to get into your common room and lose yourself in books, ancient spells, and strange magical theories. It suits you, in its way.

But you miss him.

You make time where you can - which is between classes, after curfew, beside the Black Lake under starlight. He’s always tired after the full moon, always quiet. You notice the fresh scars even when he tries to hide them under long sleeves.

You’re always the first to notice, you doubt there’s a detail you’d miss when it came to him. 

Then he makes new friends. James Potter. Sirius Black. Peter Pettigrew. Loud boys with loud laughs and even louder personalities. They’re always getting into trouble, always pulling Remus into it. And he lets them.

You don’t blame him. Not really. But sometimes, when you see him laughing with Sirius or whispering to James during class, something tightens in your chest.

They don’t know, not like you do, and they could never.

One evening, you meet him by the lake. You sit in silence, watching the ripples in the water. The moon is almost full.

“They don’t know, do they?” you ask, finally.

He flinches. “No.”

“Do you want them to?”

“No,” he says quickly. Then softer, “I don’t want them to look at me and be afraid they’re sleeping with a monster.”

You nod, lips pressed together. “You’re not a monster, Rem, you don’t have to pretend either when you’re with me.”

He sighs, shoulders slumping. “I’m not pretending. I’m just… trying.”

“You’re still you, Remus,” you say. “And I still see you. Even when no one else does.”

He doesn’t answer at first. Then, “Sometimes I think you see too much.”

“Someone has to.”

He looks at you, really looks, and for a moment everything else fades - the Houses, the castle, the distance. He’s still the boy from Whispermere, hiding from the world in your attic, clutching your hand after the worst nights of his life.

“Thank you,” he murmurs.

You smile. “Always.”

And in that moment, you know: it doesn’t matter what the Hat said, or where you sleep, or what friends you make. You’re still his anchor, and he’s still yours.

Even if the world tries to pull you apart, even if the moon rises and falls and tries to make him something else - you’ll always be there, reminding him of who he is.

Not a monster. Just Remus, and that’s more than enough.

You knew things would never be the same the moment you got sorted into different houses, but you hadn’t expected it to happen right in second year. The first-year, he was stuck to you somehow his budding friendship with his dorm mates.

Only, this year, it’s different. It happens slowly, the way most changes do. A missed lunch here, a half-written letter there. The space between you and Remus doesn’t appear all at once. It drips in like rain under a cracked window, which is quiet, subtle, and easy to ignore at first.

You tell yourself it’s normal. You’re in different houses. You have different classes, different friends. He has James, Sirius, and Peter now - boys who’ve somehow wrapped themselves around his days like ivy on stone. You’re happy he’s laughing more. You want him to have people.

Still, there are times it stings.

You see them in the courtyard, shoulders pressed together as they whisper about some prank or plan or whatever mischief they’re always knee-deep in. Remus laughs at something James says, head thrown back, the sound real and full and bright.

It should make you happy. It does, but only to some extent. You supposed it was childish, because you are a child, but sometimes, you wish he’d laugh like that with you again.

You still have your moments. After all, some things don’t change.

Full moons still come. And Remus still suffers.

He tells them he’s visiting his “sick mother” or going home for the weekends, but on weekdays he’ll just be sick and staying in the hospital wing. The Marauders, to their credit, don’t press. Not yet.

But you know the truth, you knew it was only a matter of time before they found out. Before Remus shines a light on that he so badly wishes wasn’t true.

You sneak out on those nights, Invisibility Cloak or not. Madam Pomfrey has stopped scolding you when she finds you curled in the chair beside his bed in the hospital wing. You’ve been doing this for years now, long before Hogwarts.

Sometimes you stay awake all night, watching the slow rise and fall of his chest, the faint shimmer of silver scars healing across his arms. Sometimes you just hold his hand and wait for the shaking to stop.

You bring chocolate, potions from your own stash, and books he pretends to be too tired to read but always opens the second you leave.

There is no miracle potion yet. Nothing to make it easier. But there was you, so you stay.

Because love - whatever kind of love this is - means showing up. Especially when it’s hard.

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” he tells you one morning, voice hoarse and broken around the edges.

You hand him a warm compress and raise an eyebrow. “You say that every time.”

“And you ignore it every time.”

“Because it’s a stupid thing to say.”

He lets out a dry laugh that turns into a cough. “I mean it. You’ve got other friends. Classes. You don’t need to spend your nights watching me bleed all over the bed.”

You sit beside him, brushing his hair back gently. “No, I don’t need to. I want to. That’s different.”

He doesn’t look at you. He’s gotten good at that lately. He used to always meet your eyes, no shame in that now that you have seen everything he had to offer. Hogwarts seemed to have changed a lot between you and him.

After a while, you ask, “Why don’t you tell them?”

He stiffens. “Tell who?”

“You know who. Potter, Black and Pettigrew. Your little chaos club.”

“They’re not - ” He stops, then sighs. “It’s not that simple.”

“Why not?”

He rubs a hand over his face. “Because if they find out, they’ll look at me differently. Or worse, they’ll stop looking at me at all.”

“You don’t know that.”

He meets your eyes then. “You don’t know what it’s like. To be this. To be something people fear.”

“No,” you say gently. “But I know what it’s like to watch someone I care about tear themselves apart for being something they can’t control.”

That shuts him up. He hates how you know exactly which words to use, what to say, how to say it. He hates how he can’t resist the warmth you offer, even at the tender age of 13, Remus knew that craving you and your comfort was not good.

He couldn’t depend on you so much. You’ve been enduring full moons with him since you both were 8, it would be too unfair to demand you keep doing it forever. Hogwarts is a new era, a new start. 

You squeeze his hand. “You don’t have to tell them now. But you can’t keep carrying this alone forever.”

He’s quiet for a long time.

Then, softly: “I’m not carrying it alone.”

You smile at that. It’s the first real smile you’ve had in days, and right then and there - wall has barely built.

Still, the distance continues.

You write him notes in class and find them folded carefully in his bag later, but he rarely writes back. You sit by him at meals when you can, but more often he’s wedged between Sirius’ smirks and James’ flying stories.

He doesn’t mean to leave you behind. That’s what makes it harder.

Because he’s not cruel. Just… busy. Distracted, even. Caught in the glow of something new and good and easy, and you? You’re the constant. The one who patches him up in secret, who carries the burden he’s still too scared to share with anyone else.

You wonder sometimes what would happen if you stopped showing up, but you already know the answer. You never would, you could never do that to him.

One night, weeks after a particularly brutal full moon, you find him on the Astronomy Tower, arms crossed against the wind, eyes trained on the stars like they might have answers.

You step up beside him.

“They asked again,” he says without turning.

“About the absences?”

He nods.

“What did you say?”

“That I get migraines. Bad ones. I said I needed quiet.”

You lean against the wall beside him. “You think they bought it?”

He shrugs. “James looked like he wanted to argue. Sirius just nodded.”

“They’re not stupid, Remus. They’re going to figure it out eventually.”

“Yeah,” he whispers. “I know.”

You glance at him. “What then?”

He doesn’t answer.

You rest your chin on your arms. “They’re your friends. They care about you. Maybe they’d surprise you.”

He gives you a look, half amused, half broken. “You always believe the best in people.”

“No,” you say. “Just in you.”

He turns away, blinking hard. He tries not to think too much about it and you try to act like it never held much weight than intended.

You know he’s scared. You also know that trust doesn’t come easy when your entire life has been a series of closed doors and hidden scars. So you keep showing up.

In the quiet moments. In the hospital wing. In the spaces between his laughter with the Marauders and the silences that follow the moon. You stay.

Because even if he doesn’t say it, even if he forgets sometimes, you know he needs you.

The Marauders became legends long before you realized you’d been left behind.

It started innocently with little tricks, charmed ink, floating teacups in the Great Hall. But by fourth year, it was chaos on demand. James and Sirius led the charge, Peter cheered from the sidelines, and Remus followed behind with that half-smile he wore when he was trying not to be complicit.

He was never the loudest. But he was always there and you had no doubt that a majority of the pranks were his ideas with that brilliant imagination of his.

And you? You were somewhere else entirely.

You’d fallen in love with Potions during your third year. You were completely taken by it, it was constant - it was measured and specific, you will only go wrong if you do it wrong, you liked the assurance in that. The discipline of it, the balance. The quiet language of simmering and stillness. The way ingredients interacted like people. Some enhanced each other. Some repelled. Some needed careful handling or they’d break.

You understood that. You didn't mind the solitude. Not at first.

You still saw him, of course. Shared looks across the Great Hall. A nod in passing between classes. He still sought you out during full moons - less often now, but enough to remind you that something tethered you together, even if the rope frayed more each year.

Then came fifth year.

It was a brutal moon. You knew it before the term started. You’d read the cycle and seen how close the eclipse would fall. Too long in wolf form. Too little recovery time.

You were already waiting when Madam Pomfrey carried him in, bleeding and half-conscious, his leg at a wrong angle and the smell of blood in his clothes. He was fevered for days. You didn’t leave.

But when he finally woke, cane leaning beside his bed and the weight of reality setting into his body like cold iron, something inside him snapped.

You remember it too clearly.

“Remus,” you said, gently wrapping the bandage around his hip. “You’re going to need to rest for a while. Let your body catch up.”

He looked away. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not.”

“You don’t get to say that.”

Your hands froze. “I’m just trying to help.”

“I don’t want your help,” he snapped, voice raw. “I don’t need you watching over me like some sad nursemaid waiting for the broken boy to fall apart. I don’t need your pity.”

The silence that followed was sharp enough to cut bone.

You stood slowly, heart loud in your ears. “It’s not pity, Remus. It never was.”

He didn’t look at you. He couldn’t then, he was too drunk on his pain to really consider you and your words, as well as his own.

You left without another word.

He apologized two days later. He limped to where you sat in the library, cane in hand, eyes rimmed with sleepless regret.

“I didn’t mean it,” he said, quietly. “I was angry, and scared. Not at you… never at you.”

You nodded, nudging the empty seat beside you, which he took.

“I know,” you said.

And you did. You forgave him. Of course you did, it was hard not to when it was Remus. But the wound between you stayed, despite you forgiving him. It might have been the first real crack in the relationship that never fully went away.

You passed each other in the corridors and shared tired smiles. Sometimes, you sat beside each other in the hospital wing in silence, both knowing you’d never quite find your way back to where you’d been.

Seventh year came faster than you expected. Your N.E.W.T.s consumed you - Potions, Transfiguration, Transfiguration. You poured yourself into your studies like they were the only things still within your control.

Remus, meanwhile, was surrounded by noise. Always someone beside him, always laughing, always planning something with parchment and ink-stained hands. He was loved, admired even. And you were happy for him.

Throughout the years he grew to be a Remus that was nowhere near the one you knew. He got tattoos, piercings too and you would even see him smoke in the Gryffindor common room parties you’d be dragged into attending.

You never really spoke there, just exchanged greetings and then off you were to mingle with your usual circle while he stuck close to his Gryffindor lot.

Outside of common room parties, you spoke now and then. Swapped books, and would even shared tea on a rainy afternoon near the end of spring term. But it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t the attic in Whispermere. It wasn’t late-night confessions or moonlit truths. It was… polite.

But sometimes, he’d look at you like he was remembering something. Something he thought he lost, and you’d smile gently, pretending not to feel it.

Graduation came not so long after.

You stood in a sea of students in dress robes and polished shoes. The sky was too blue. Your throat too tight. All you could think was: This is the end of something we forgot to finish.

After the ceremony, he found you standing alone by the edge of the courtyard, clutching your acceptance letter from the Potions Guild. It was everything you worked so hard for, yet you didn’t feel as accomplished.

“So,” he said, softly. “St. Mungo’s or lab work?”

You looked up at him. The sun caught his hair. He still leaned on the cane sometimes, out of habit more than need now.

“Both,” you said. “They offered me a hybrid apprenticeship. Field work and brewing. It’s… everything I wanted.”

He smiled, and it was real. “You deserve that. You always did.”

“What about you?” you asked. “Still planning to be underpaid and overworked for the Ministry?”

“Sadly,” he said, smirking. “I think that’s the werewolf-friendly career track.”

You both laughed, and it almost felt normal again.

Then came the pause. The one that wrapped around everything you hadn’t said for years. Seven years ago, he was yours - in all the ways that mattered, and yet he couldn’t be farther from that now.

“I’m proud of you,” he said, voice quieter. “I never told you that enough.”

You blinked hard. “You didn’t have to. I always knew.”

Another silence. This one longer. More final. You allowed yourself to sit through it no matter how much it stings.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “For pulling away. For ruining what we had.”

“You didn’t ruin it,” you whispered. “We just… grew differently. That’s not anyone’s fault.”

He nodded, eyes shining. “Still. I never forgot what you were to me.”

You stepped forward, brushing his sleeve gently. “I’ll always be here, Remus. Maybe not beside you, but… you’ll never be alone. Not really.”

He looked at you like he wanted to say a thousand things. Instead, he just said, “Thank you.”

And then he hugged you, arms around your shoulders, his chin in your hair. For a moment, you were kids again, hiding from storms, trading secrets, pretending the world couldn’t touch you.

Then you let go.

And you both walked into the rest of your lives.

Apart.

Not exactly best friends like you once were. But never strangers.

You hadn’t set out to cure werewolves. That was a lost cause.

In truth, you hadn’t even set out to be a name anyone outside a medical conference would know. All you ever wanted was to understand. To fix what broke, to ease what hurt.

Maybe it started with Remus - those early days at Hogwarts, when he’d stumble into the hospital wing torn apart by the moon. Maybe it was the way he tried to hide the pain, or the way he smiled like it cost him something. You’d sat beside his bed too many nights to count, watching him sleep with clenched fists and a furrowed brow.

You’d never forgotten the way he looked at you after his worst full moon - fifth year, cane by the bed, his voice sharp with shame.

"I don’t want your pity."

That stayed with you. Not as a wound, but a weight. A suffocating reminder.

So no, you hadn’t started out trying to change the world. You were just trying to make it a little easier for someone like him to live in it.

And somewhere along the way, you did.

St. Mungo’s had offered you an apprenticeship the summer after graduation. A split program which consisted of two days a week in the field and three in the Potions wing. You’d taken it eagerly, diving into your studies with the same quiet focus you’d had at Hogwarts.

But the moment you had freedom to choose your own research, you knew what your first project would be.

Lycanthropy.

The transformations. The injuries. The trauma.

The stigma.

There were no quick fixes, no clean solutions. The thing resisted almost everything. Existing treatments were garbage, if they were even treatments, almost none existed due to the image painted of werewolves in the wizarding society.

The werewolf's body changed, but the tragedy was in the mind. The slipping of identity. The violent erasure of the person inside.

So you studied. And you failed. And you studied more. And you kept failing.

You burned through ingredients, scorched cauldrons, collapsed more than one test dummy with unstable fumes. You didn’t care, you pushed on.

There were whispers around the lab. That you were obsessed. That you should focus on safer, more respectable branches of medicine. That lycanthropy was a curse and werewolves are scary creatures that kill without reason.

They said it wasn’t worth pursuing and their scrutiny almost drowned you.

But you remembered Remus. And that was reason enough too keep going, to keep fighting for a world that he won’t be pushing people away in fear that they’d see all the ugly and run away.

It took three years to get your first successful result.

By then you were twenty-one, exhausted, and running on tea and stubbornness. But the batch worked - just barely. It stabilized the subject’s mental state for nine full minutes during the transformation. Nine minutes of lucidity, control. Enough to test again.

You built from there.

Nine became fourteen. Fourteen became thirty. Eventually, you crossed the hour mark - and then something clicked.

It was monkshood. That had always been obvious. But it wasn’t the only key. It was how it mixed with valerian, how the infusion had to be added at exactly 74 degrees Celsius, how the brew had to be stirred counterclockwise before sunrise.

A thousand tiny details. None of them obvious. But together?

Together, they became the thing.

You cried when the final test subject looked up after the full moon and said, “I remember everything. I didn’t lose myself.”

It was a werewolf volunteer, a girl a bit older than you are named Lyka. She had short blonde hair that was curled in coils and her eyes were a piercing grey in colour, she was reserved and strong. She volunteered for the tests right away.

You think she also held out hope to see the future you had envisioned, so she endured the tests however dangerous they may be and you both pushed through and jumped over numerous hurdles.

She’s become somewhat of a friend to you all these years. You even trusted her with stories of Remus, of the boy who was behind everything you’ve been building towards.

And when the press finally got hold of the announcement, you didn’t hide. You didn’t let the hospital PR team bury your name in a headline. You stood in front of the flashbulbs and the questions and said clearly, proudly:

“My name is ______, and I created the Wolfsbane Potion.”

You didn’t stutter, nor did you blink once.

You just thought: Remus. I hope you see this.

He did.

Remus Lupin had not cried since he was seventeen.

Not when he’d graduated. Not when he’d buried his parents at the ripe age of 19. Not even when he’d broken up with someone who said she “couldn’t live with the risk.”

But he nearly cried in the Potter living room the moment he saw your face on the front page of The Daily Prophet.

It had been a peaceful morning. James and Lily’s home which happens to be Potter Manor was warm, lively with the sound of baby Harry’s hiccupy giggles and Sirius humming off-key in the kitchen. Remus had dropped by with a stack of paperwork and a worn copy of Beedle the Bard - a gift for Harry, who immediately drooled on it with affection.

They were laughing over tea when Peter stumbled in, windblown and pink-cheeked.

“Sorry, sorry, I’m late,” Peter said, shrugging off his cloak. “Weather’s foul. Couldn’t apparate in these weathers.”

He dropped a bundle of newspapers on the table, along with a bag of jam tarts. Remus reached for a tart without thinking, flipping the top newspaper toward him.

Peter, halfway through unwrapping a sweetroll, said casually, “Isn’t that your mate from school?”

Remus glanced down.

His hand stopped.

There you were - front and centre, smiling widely and proudly. Not some blurry byline photo or a profile sketch. A real picture, wand in one hand, flask of potion in the other, hair pulled back. Behind you was a cauldron bubbling away.

It was all too staged if he were being honest.

BREAKTHROUGH IN LYCANTHROPY TREATMENT: WOLFSBANE POTION CREATED BY FORMER HOGWARTS STUDENT

Remus’s heart kicked like it remembered how.

The article’s subhead read: ‘I wanted to create something that could preserve identity. Lycanthropy shouldn’t be a life sentence.’

He read your name, printed boldly beneath the headline. It was written in full. You had claimed it all.

Lily noticed first. “Remus?”

He didn’t look up.James tilted the paper so he could see. “Bloody hell. That’s _____, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Remus said. His voice was quiet.

Peter blinked. “Wait, you know her?” He barely remembers you from school.

“I grew up with her,” Remus replied. “We were friends. Best friends. For a long time.”

Sirius leaned against the table. “And now she’s apparently a genius.”

“She always was,” Remus murmured, a small smile tugging at his lips.

He stepped outside soon after, briefly, to get some fresh air.

It had been four years. Four years since Hogwarts. Four years since you’d spoken beyond the occasional stiff letter or exchanged holiday greetings. You had gone and done the impossible.

You’d given people like him hope. You’d changed lives, and you’d done it without ever asking for praise or apology or permission. You had stood there, face lit by flashbulbs, and told the world that werewolves mattered.

That he mattered.

Remus laughed softly, shaking his head. He wasn’t sure whether to feel stunned or guilty. He hadn’t written in over a year. Hadn’t asked how you were. Hadn’t known the thing you were building in the dark would end up this… bright.

And still - he felt seen.

Even from across the silence.

He reread your quote at the bottom of the page, just above your signature:

“I don’t think we should be afraid to try  . Not when people are still suffering. Not when we can do better.”

You hadn’t named him. But Remus felt your words like they were spoken straight to him. Because he knew better, he knew you were speaking right to him.

Back inside, Sirius gave him a long look. “You alright, mate?”

Remus nodded slowly. “Yeah. Yeah, I think I am.”

He folded the paper carefully, tucking it beneath his arm. For a long time, he’d lived with the quiet grief of being forgotten. A side effect of his condition. Of fading away into the margins of other people’s stories.

But here you were, reshaping the narrative entirely.

You hadn’t just remembered him. You had remembered all of them - the ones who lived in the shadows, who never thought they’d be more than cautionary tales or footnotes in Ministry reports.

And maybe… just maybe… you’d done it for him. He stared down at your picture again, his smile quiet and unshakable.

“Godric’s beard,” James muttered behind him, reading the headline over his shoulder. “She really made a Wolfsbane Potion.”

Sirius let out a low whistle. “That’s going to change everything.”

Remus didn’t speak, but in his chest, something shifted. A pressure he’d carried for years lightened. And somewhere deep down, he knew this wasn’t the end of the story. You were out there. Living, thriving, blazing a trail.

And for the first time in a long time, he found himself wanting to reach out, outside of obligation and nostalgia. Because something real had reignited between you.

It didn’t take long for Remus to find you.

The moment he saw your name on the front page of the Prophet, he knew it wouldn’t be enough just to read the article ten times, to keep the paper folded on his night stand like some relic. He needed to see you.

For the ache in his chest that hadn’t gone away since fifth year. The one he thought he could outgrow, bury beneath the pages of law books and Ministry memos. But there it was, alive and sharp and hopeful again.

So he asked around.

He was discreet, as always. But not shy.

You were easy to trace once he learned about your position at St. Mungo’s. The Potioneering Department kept strict visiting hours, but Remus had never been one to blindly follow signs that read Authorized Personnel Only. He lingered until your shift ended, until he saw you push through the ward doors with your satchel slung across your shoulder, hair messily pinned back, a smudge of something silvery at your temple.

It felt like the wind had been knocked out of him.

You stopped when you saw him.

The quiet stretched as you stared in disbelief. He took one step closer.

"Hi," he said.

Your breath hitched. "Remus."

He offered a careful smile, the kind that trembled at the edges. "I hope it’s alright. I didn’t want to owl. I thought maybe... maybe you wouldn’t answer."

You swallowed. You looked older, of course. Grown into yourself. But your eyes were still the same. He could see the traces of that little girl still as he watched your grown self scan him, he bet he must look different as well.

"I might not have," you admitted softly. "I’m glad you didn’t give me the choice."

That made him laugh. Not a loud one, but real. He looked down. "You really did it. You actually - "

"Yes."

"I don’t even know what to say."

You smiled faintly. "Then don’t. Let me."

He blinked as you stepped closer.

"I invented it for you," you said, voice barely above a whisper. "So you’d stop suffering the way you used to. That’s all it ever was. All I ever wanted."

Remus looked at you like you’d peeled the years back with a single sentence.

He didn’t hug you, despite desperately wanting to. He didn’t wanna offend you or cross boundaries.

He just said, very quietly, "Thank you."

And that was enough.

He started taking the Wolfsbane Potion a week later, full seven days leading up to the full moon.

You brewed it yourself, of course. There were still regulatory delays, red tape the Ministry insisted on. But you had your licence. You had your clearance. More importantly, you had him.

You gave it to him with a note attached: Sip slowly, or it’ll make your throat burn. Seven days, don’t miss it.

Remus made sure to drank every single day of the week leading up to the full moon. It was still painful. The bones still bent. The skin still pulled and tore and reshaped.

But he remained. He was still there.

He could remember the walls. The sounds. The feel of the floor. He didn’t thrash, didn’t bite himself raw, didn’t wake up choking on blood and dirt.

And when morning came, he cried.

You were there.

Sitting in the armchair beside the bed in his tiny flat, watching him with quiet concern and a cup of now-cold tea in your hand.

"You stayed," he rasped.

"Of course, I stayed."

He swallowed, throat dry. "You didn’t have to."

You raised an eyebrow. "Remus Lupin, I have stayed with you in worse states than this. Don’t be daft."

He huffed a weak laugh. Then he looked at you. His tired brown eyes meeting yours. You hadn’t slept. Your eyes were shadowed, your robe wrinkled. But you looked proud, and somewhat tender. And maybe a little scared.

"I always missed you," he said.

You stilled.

He continued, voice low. "Even when I didn’t say it. Even when we stopped writing. I never stopped thinking about you."

You opened your mouth, then closed it.

He sat up slowly, wincing. "I loved you, you know. Even back then."

"Remus - "

"I didn’t say anything because I was scared. Because I thought... if I ever hurt you, if I ever lost control, and it was you in the way - "

"I’ve known since we were eight."

He blinked.

You smiled sadly. "Of course I knew. I knew you loved me. I knew you were afraid. But if anyone was ever going to understand, Remus, it was always going to be me."

He looked down. His hands shook. "I just didn’t want to be the monster in your story."

You moved to sit beside him on the bed.

"You’ll never have to worry again," you whispered. "Because I found a way."

He looked at you, eyes glassy. "Thank you."

"You don’t have to thank me."

"I do. I don’t deserve it."

You snorted. "Remus Lupin, you deserve the bloody stars and the moon and the sun. But I can’t give you that. So instead... I give you the potion."

He stared at you, long and quiet. Then he reached out, cupped your face in one trembling hand, and kissed you.

It wasn’t perfect. It was cracked with tiredness and ache and too many lost years.

But it was real, so real that it undid all the distance that grew between you two all these years. You thought you had lost him 7 years ago, but he was still yours.

When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours. "Thank you for giving me something I can never pay back."

You hummed. "Buying me a drink would do."

He laughed against your skin. "I’ll buy you all the drinks in the world."

end. masterlist

[militarywifesvt]

Love next door ( P2 )

Pairing : idolneighbour!cheol x neighbour!reader

Trope : neighbours to lovers / sunshine X sunshine protector

Summary : how can he not find you cute when all you do is pout and cause trouble ? Of course he will be the one to rescue you . Part one

Genre : fluff

Warnings : minor injuries , blood , mini accidents in the end .

A/n : I have a taglist now ! Still not sure how it works but if you want to be in it just leave a comment! First person to join the taglist is @cscstrap 🥇

This is a bit long sorry , I promise it's worth it ! Enjoy !

" Man… the neighbours will actually think you're a celebrity now ," you said lazily , half smiling . " All shady with those glasses and that long jacket . Are you hiding from fans or the mafia . "

The next morning , you woke up late like usual , stretched lazily , and dragged yourself to the kitchen for a quick piece of toast . After slipping on a decent outfit for work and tying your messy hair into a bun , you grabbed your keys and headed to the door , only to see seungcheol right in front of his door , dressing all black , sunglasses on . You yawned wide , not even bothering to cover it, and glanced at him with sleepy eyes as you scratched your hair .

You chuckled to yourself, completely clueless , like you're just talking to any regular neighbour . He grinned and looked away but you didn't wait for an answer , just waved goodbye and walked lazily down the stairs to go to work . But you were shocked to see a large amount of people in front of the building . Cameras clicking , reporters whispering , young girls giggling in that annoying high-pitched voice . Curiosity got the best of you , so you went up and asked one of the girls

" Excuse me , why are you all standing here ? Are you sure you're not at the wrong address ? "

They all looked at you like you just committed a crime .

" haven't you heard ? S.coups apparently lives here now . "

" S. Who ? "

" you seriously don't know choi seungcheol ? " One of the girls gasped , eyes wide .

You blinked once . Twice . That name hit your lazy morning brain , then you realised .

" Oh my god ... I literally just roasted a celebrity . " You mumbled under your breath , aware of what you just did 5 minutes ago .

You never thought you would ever be this desperate to get to work , your office desk suddenly feels like the safest place in the world . Clutching your bag like it was your lifeline , you power-walked towards the street , whispering nonsense to yourself , not believing that you called an international popstar ' shady ' . Forget coffee , embarrassment gave you wings . who knew being offline for a long time can have side effects ?

After much thought later that day , you decided that avoiding him is the best solution . He probably thinks you're an idiot already , he wouldn't want to talk to you anyway . But sadly , the universe has always been against you . You luckily survived the day by pretending the morning never happened , so naturally , you rewarded yourself with some much-needed snacks . Two large bags hung heavy in each hand , swaying with every step . But just as you reached the building’s front door , one bag gave a sudden rip , and everything inside tumbled out onto the pavement . Snacks , cans , and everything else spilled everywhere , turning your attempt of comforting yourself to a disaster . You crouched to collect a can that rolled on the street . But it suddenly reached someone's foot , you looked up , and froze .

Guess who it is .

Take a wild guess .

Correct , the one and only , the superstar , choi seungcheol . Who else could it be ?

He looked at you and sighed softly . Then , without a word , crouched beside you , casually picking up the rolling can .

"Are you doing this on purpose ? " He says with an even tone , without even looking at you . You laughed nervously , stuffing a chocolate bar back into the bag .

" I'm sorry , you can leave if you want . " But he didn't move . And you felt something weird in your chest . As you reached for the same box of cookies , your hands slightly touched . Both of you froze for a long second , holding eye contact . His dark gaze lingered , while you blinked like an idiot despite the embarrassment and whatever that feeling in your chest was .

" guess I owe you , this time " you managed to say , with a creepy , embarrassed smile . He didn't answer . And you could've swore you saw the corners of his lips twitching .

You turned around and left with whatever confidence you still had after this exhausting day .

You collapsed onto the couch , staring blankly at the ceiling as your mind replayed that look . His eyes . That quiet , curious stare . The way your hands touched for just a second too long . You groaned, covering your face with a pillow . "What... was that ? " you muttered . Butterflies ? Panic ? Both ? You couldn’t tell if you wanted to run , scream , or smile like an idiot forever . The couch swallowed you whole as you lay there , brain trying ( and failing ) to make sense of the strange spark left buzzing in your chest .

Seungcheol , on the other hand leaned against the elevator wall , the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips . What a strange neighbour , he thought .

You were like a little storm , messy hair , sunshine grin , grocery bags exploding like confetti . And for some reason , you didn’t treat him like s.coups , but like choi seungcheol . No screaming, no fake smiles . Just pure , clumsy chaos . The elevator dinged . But the thought of you , the chaos , your smile . God , your smile , the surprised little gasp , stayed with him . And then there was that moment . When your hands touched . When your wide eyes looked straight into his . His fingers curled slightly at the memory . Cute, he thought , amused . Trouble. But cute . He sighed quietly, shaking his head.

“ Of all neighbours… why her? ” he muttered under his breath , but the smile never left his face .

Days went by . You did your best to avoid bumping into him . No more snack disasters . No more accidental hand touches . No more whatever that weird moment was . But nothing really goes your way . It happened one sunny afternoon , you were on a walk when you saw a stray dog from afar . You were so caught up in admiring it you didn't notice seungcheol , who was watching from afar , admire you , he was already head over heels for you by now , but that idiot never got the courage to tell you . You reached out to pet the stray dog, but it snapped and bit your hand sharply. Pain shot through you , blood came gushing out of your hand , and you froze, unsure what to do.

Seungcheol appeared instantly, concern written all over his face. “ Show me . ” he said already reaching for your hand .

He insisted on carrying you to his place despite your protests , he then carefully cleaned the wound and wrapped it with soft bandages . His touch was gentle but firm, and his eyes never left yours . As he tended to your injury, a warmth spread through your chest , and you felt your stomach do a backflip when he asked if you're okay . No one actually cared for you this much before and you certainly did not feel something like this towards anyone . This kept you up all night , and by the morning , you came to the conclusion that you have officially fallen in love with him . Unaware that he feels the same , your heart swelled at the thought that you could never have him . He's a superstar . He works hard everyday and can have whatever he wants . Why would he even look at your direction ? He was just being friendly . That's what you kept on saying to yourself for the past month . Until , one morning you woke up surprisingly early for work . As you were walking out of the building , you saw seungcheol . But this time something is different . He's not wearing his usual black outfit with black sunglasses . He has a decent outfit on ( which he spent at least an hour trying to make it look presentable ) and anyone would notice that he's nervous : hands in his pockets , breath uneven , eyes avoiding yours . You knew something was wrong .

" What happened ? Is everything okay ? Are you hurt ? Do you need- "

" I like you , y/n "

Pause .

You couldn't process his words fast enough to answer . So he continued .

" Ever since you got me that cute welcome gift , looking all damn cute . Ever since you treated me like an actual person despite not knowing I was a celebrity . Ever since you treated me like me . No fake laughs , no cameras , no demands . Just you . "

Oh my god . He confessed .

You froze . Your heart pounded . You blinked , Once . Twice .

" Cheol I... You really shouldn't like someone like me but- "

" No it's okay . I'm s-sorry ... Forget I said anything , sorry . " He took a step back and turned around , walking away .

" Wait seungcheol- "

He already left , shoulders stiff , head down . He thought he ruined everything . But he didn't even give you a chance to explain .

Now , you have to think about a way to make everything right , you won't just let him walk away like that . Never .

[willowsnook]

Everything But Goodbye

Mikko rantanen x bsf!reader

summary: Mikko pushes the reader away after being traded from Colorado but finds that it wasn't the best way to deal with his feelings

—--------------------------------------

MR: They’re trading me to Carolina

Your heart stopped when you got that text. It had been a frigid winter day, and you were working out of a cafe in downtown Denver when it happened. Immediately, you pulled out your phone and dialed your best friend’s number. 

“Hey, are you okay?” You asked, worriedly. 

“No, can you come over?” He replied, and you could hear the shakiness of his voice, even over the phone. Packing up your stuff, you rushed out of the cafe and towards your car parked nearby. Mikko only lived five minutes away but you drove your car like you were in the Indy500, making it to his place in record time. 

Your arms were around him the second he opened the door, and he buried his head into your shoulder. 

"I can't believe it," he mumbled against your sweater, his large frame trembling slightly. "Eight years in Denver... gone."

You rubbed soothing circles on his back, guiding him inside and closing the door behind you. His apartment was uncharacteristically messy—clothes strewn across the couch, half-packed boxes already appearing in corners.

"When did you find out?" you asked softly, leading him to sit on the couch.

Mikko ran his fingers through his hair, his eyes red-rimmed. "Joe called me this morning. Said it was a business decision." He laughed bitterly. "Business decision. Like I haven't given everything to this team."

You felt your own heart breaking. Not just for him, but selfishly for yourself too. Mikko had been your rock since you'd met at that Avs charity event three years ago when he’d anchored himself as a calming presence to your overwhelmed state. 

Flashback

 You were way out of your element.

The ballroom was packed, glittering with expensive dresses, tailored suits, and too many champagne flutes to count. The Avalanche’s annual charity gala was something you’d only ever read about in social blurbs or seen reposted on Instagram. But your boss had insisted on sending someone from the marketing team—and lucky you, that someone was you.

You’d barely been working with the local nonprofit for six months, and already you were sweating through your nicest (rented) dress, clutching your name tag like it was a lifeline. You kept circling the edge of the room, dodging eye contact, sipping sparkling water as if it would drown the anxiety bubbling in your chest.

It was when you nearly walked into the dessert table—again—that you felt someone step beside you.

“You trying to take out the cupcakes?” a warm, accented voice asked, amusement clear in his tone.

You looked up, startled—and kind of mortified—to see a very tall, very broad man in a tailored black suit watching you with a crooked grin.

“I—no! I’m just…circling. Strategically,” you said, flustered. “Cupcake defense strategy.”

The man laughed, deep and genuine, and you felt your stomach flip.

“I’m Mikko,” he said, offering his hand. “Rantanen.”

That name you did recognize, and your eyes widened slightly. “Right. You’re…one of the Avalanche players.”

He smiled sheepishly, like he wasn’t quite used to being recognized. “Yeah, that’s me. And you are?”

You held up your badge. “Nonprofit table. I help with community outreach.”

“Ah,” he nodded thoughtfully. “The people who make all of this actually happen.”

You blushed at the compliment, but he didn’t let it go. Instead, Mikko gestured toward the edge of the room. “Come with me. I know a quieter spot, less cupcake risk.”

You hesitated for a second, then followed him toward a quieter corner of the venue where a few players were chatting casually. Mikko introduced you to each of them with a proud smile like you were already part of the team.

By the time the night ended, you weren’t hiding behind centerpieces anymore. You were laughing, sipping real champagne, and somehow ending the evening with Mikko’s number in your phone and the promise to meet up for coffee sometime soon.

You didn’t know then that “coffee” would turn into weekly check-ins.

That check-ins would turn into friendship.

And that friendship would turn into everything.

End of flashback

“When do you have to leave?” You asked carefully.

“Plane leaves in 3 hours,” he replied and you took a sharp inhale. 

You clasped your hands together, “Okay well lets get you packed then.” 

Mikko nodded and stood up as you started moving his stuff into boxes. Keeping yourself busy was the only thing you could do to not cry so that’s what you were going to do. An hour later, you had loaded the last of his stuff into his truck and faced him, a look of uncertainty on your face. 

"So, this is it?" you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Mikko's blue eyes met yours, swimming with emotions you couldn't quite place. The Colorado wind whipped around you both, carrying the scent of snow and something ending.

"I don't want to leave you," he admitted, his accent thicker with emotion. "You're the best thing that happened to me in Denver."

Your throat tightened. Three years of friendship, of movie nights and inside jokes, of him teaching you hockey terms, forcing you to be friends with his teammates while you introduced him to your favorite local spots—all of it compressed into this goodbye in a parking lot.

"Carolina's not so far," you lied, knowing full well it was across the country. "We can still talk every day."

Mikko stepped closer, towering over you in that gentle way of his. "But it won't be the same."

You nodded, blinking away the tears as you wrapped your arms around his waist. He held you close to his body, his hand wrapped in your hair. “It’s okay rakas, I’ll see you soon.” 

—-----------------------------

That was months ago and a lot had changed since then. Mikko for one, was now playing for the Dallas Stars. You had talked every day when he was in Carolina, even flying out there because he was struggling so much. But now that he was on the Stars–the texts and calls were way less. It was like he was treating you as a rival too. 

You stared at your phone, thumb hovering over Mikko's contact. Three missed calls from you, and the last text you'd sent—a simple "How was the game?"—had been on read for two days.

The Avalanche had played Dallas last night. You'd watched the whole thing, wincing when Mikko took a hard hit against the boards, cheering reflexively when he scored before remembering he wasn't yours to cheer for anymore. He looked different in green, his familiar number 96 jarring against the Stars jersey.

With a sigh, you tossed your phone onto the couch and walked to the kitchen. Your apartment felt emptier these days, even though Mikko had never lived here. It was the absence of possibility, you supposed—the knowledge that he wouldn't be dropping by with takeout or calling to ask if you wanted to grab coffee downtown.

Your phone buzzed with a text from your other hockey friend, Nathan MacKinnon. 

Going out tonight with Mikko, little place around the corner 8:00.

You shot back a quick reply, Pass, he doesn’t want to see me. 

The reply from Nate was almost instant: I highly doubt that.

—----------------------------------------------

Nate looked at your text later that night, frowning. Mikko was sitting across from him an raised an eyebrow. 

“What’s up?” 

“Funny thing,” Nate started. “I told Y/N to come out tonight but she said you wouldn’t want to see her.”

This caught the attention of Gabe and Cale who looked over at Mikko who seemed to be squirming in his seat. 

“You two were like inseparable,” Gabe said, confused and Cale nodded in agreement. 

“Things changed,” Mikko mumbled. 

“Bullshit,” Nate barked. 

Mikko stared into his beer, his jaw tightening. The bar noise swelled around them—clinking glasses, laughter, the game highlights playing on screens overhead—but the tension at their table created its own bubble of silence.

"It's not that simple," Mikko finally said.

Cale leaned forward. "Actually, it is. You either want her in your life or you don't."

"Of course I want her in my life!" Mikko snapped, louder than he intended. A few heads turned their way. He lowered his voice. "But what's the point? I'm in Dallas now. Every time we talk, it just... hurts more."

“So what? Just going to pretend she never existed?” Gabe pressed and Mikko sighed. 

“It’s easier this way, it’ll be easier for her too,” he said and the way his voice wavered had the guys decided to not press any further. 

—----------------------------------------------------------

You had moved on. Or at least tried to. Burying yourself in work, friends, and new hobbies, you finally came to terms with the fact that a future between you and Mikko wasn’t happening. Just in time for the playoffs to start and the Avs first opponent? The Stars of course. 

You didn’t want to go to the games but Nate had called you the day of game 3, letting you know that you had tickets right behind the bench and he’d be mad if he didn’t see you. 

“Those aren’t even great seats,” you mumbled to him but agreed. Your sister was in town so she officially was roped into going to the game with you. She wasn’t complaining though - she loved the attention from the team that came along with being with you. 

It was an hour or so before the game and you were chatting with Cale, his back turned to the ice. You were laughing at something he said when you saw Nate embrace someone out of the corner of your eye. Looking over, it was like the world stopped as his eyes met yours. 

Mikko froze mid-hug with Nate, his eyes locked on yours across the bench. Even from this distance, you could see the sharp intake of breath that made his broad chest rise beneath his green Stars jersey. He looked good—too good—his hair a bit longer than when you'd last seen him, his playoff beard just starting to fill in.

Your sister nudged you. "Is that him?" she whispered, but you couldn't respond, couldn't do anything but stand there as Mikko murmured something to Nate and started walking toward you.

Cale glanced over his shoulder, then back at you with a knowing smile. "I'll catch you after the game," he said, squeezing your arm before discreetly stepping away.

The closer Mikko got, the more you noticed. The dark circles under his eyes. The tension in his shoulders. The way his hands trembled. He stopped in front of the bench and even though he was three rows away from you, it was too close. 

"Hi," he said softly, his voice barely audible over the arena noise. That one word carried the weight of months of silence between you.

"Hi," you managed back, your sister's curious gaze burning into the side of your face.

Mikko's eyes darted to your sister, then back to you. "You look..." he started, then stopped, running a hand through his hair—a nervous habit you knew too well. "Good. You look good."

"Thanks." The word came out sharper than you intended. "You too."

An awkward silence stretched between you, filled by the sounds of players warming up and fans filing into their seats. You could see his teammates glancing over, probably wondering why their star player was having what looked like a painful conversation with someone in the stands.

“Can I see you after the game?” He asked hopefully. 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” you replied quickly. 

“Please Y/N,” his voice softened. “I need to talk to you.” 

“Fine,” you said firmly. “I can give you my number since it seems you’ve lost it. 

He winced, “I’ll text you.” 

—---------------------------------------------

The game was painful for you in more ways that one. You took every Avs loss very personally and on top of that, you were dreading seeing Mikko post game. Your sister said she’d catch an Uber back so you found yourself waiting nervously outside the arena, in a secluded spot, long after everyone piled out. 

“Hey,” Mikko called out and you turned to see him dressed back in his game day suit, hair freshly washed. 

“Hey,” you said tiredly. 

“I’ve missed you,” he said softly, taking a step towards you. 

You took one back, “Don’t Mikko.” 

His face fell, and for a second, the silence between you was louder than the chaos inside the arena behind you. You watched as he shoved his hands in the pockets of his coat, shifting on his feet like he didn’t know what to do with himself.

“You don’t get to say that,” you said, voice low but trembling with the weight of all the words you hadn’t spoken for months. “You don’t get to say you missed me when you were the one who disappeared.”

“I didn’t disappear,” he argued quickly, but the way he flinched at his own words betrayed him. “It wasn’t on purpose.”

You scoffed. “So all the ignored calls, the texts left on read, the silence... What was it then? Accidental ghosting?”

“I didn’t know how to handle it!” he burst out, frustration cracking through. “I was drowning in Carolina. I hated being away. And when I finally started to get my footing in Dallas, it just... hurt too much to talk to you.”

Your jaw clenched. “So instead of telling me that, you just dropped me? Like what we had didn’t matter?”

“It did matter,” he said, voice rising with urgency. “You matter rakas. That’s why it was so hard. Talking to you felt like being reminded every day of something I couldn’t have anymore.”

“That’s such bullshit,” you snapped. “You didn’t even give me the chance to figure it out. You made the decision for both of us.”

Mikko opened his mouth, then closed it again, jaw ticking.

“I was there for you, Mikko,” you continued, voice shaking now. “When Carolina was a nightmare? I dropped everything and flew out. I sat in your shitty little apartment and held you when you told me you didn’t feel like yourself anymore. And the second things got hard for you, you just... erased me.”

“I was scared,” he admitted, and for the first time, his voice cracked. “I was scared that if I kept talking to you, I’d never be able to let go. And I thought maybe that was what we both needed.”

You laughed bitterly. “Don’t project your fear onto me. I never asked you to let go. I never asked you to go at all.”

His face fell, guilt etched into every line. “I know. And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

You shook your head. “It’s too late for sorry, Mikko. You can’t disappear for months and then show up and expect everything to go back to how it was.”

“I don’t expect that,” he said quickly. “I just—God, I don’t expect that. I know I messed up. I know I hurt you. But I swear to you, I’m going to fix this. I’m not going to disappear again. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

You looked away, blinking fast as tears pricked your eyes. “You can’t just say that and expect me to trust you again.”

“I’m not asking you to trust me right now,” he said, his voice quiet. “I’m asking you to let me earn it back.”

You crossed your arms, letting the silence stretch between you. For the first time in months, he looked like the Mikko you remembered—guard down, eyes pleading, heart on full display. But it didn’t undo the ache that had settled in your chest all season.

“I’m not forgiving you tonight,” you said firmly. “Maybe not ever.”

He nodded, swallowing hard. “I know. But I’ll be here. However long it takes—I’ll be here.”

You didn’t respond. Just turned and walked away into the Denver night, leaving him standing in the cold with nothing but the sound of your footsteps echoing behind you.

—-------------------------------------------------

True to his word he texted you nonstop over the next week. You only replied half of the time but your resolve was starting to break, especially when a bouquet of your flowers was delivered to your door. 

You watched the series against Edmonton, and you knew he had gotten through your walls when you found yourself actually sad the Stars were losing. Some Avalanche fan you were. 

Game 5 came fast and Nate had invited you to watch with some of the guys at a local bar so you went, forcing yourself to be social. Luckily Tracy, Cale’s wife, was there. You had become good friends with her over the years and it was nice to be around non-hockey playing men every once in a while. 

The bar was packed, filled with Avalanche fans who were torn between loyalty to their former teammate and wanting Edmonton to advance. You found yourself in the same conflicted boat, nervously sipping your drink as the third period wound down.

"You're stress-drinking," Tracy observed, sliding into the seat next to you. "And not because of the game."

You glanced at her, then back at the screen where Mikko was battling for the puck in the corner. "That obvious?"

"The flowers were a nice touch," she said with a knowing smile. "Cale mentioned you've been getting daily texts too."

"He's trying," you admitted reluctantly. "But trying doesn't erase months of silence."

On screen, Mikko took a brutal check and went down hard. Your heart lurched before you could stop it, and you found yourself leaning forward until he got back up.

Tracy didn't miss your reaction. "You still care about him."

"That was never the problem," you muttered, taking another sip of your drink as Mikko skated back to the bench, wincing slightly.

The game ended with Edmonton winning, putting Dallas on the brink of elimination. The bar erupted in cheers, but you felt strangely hollow watching Mikko's dejected face as he left the ice. You stayed a little longer with your friends, happy to have a distraction for the rest of the night. 

Nate’s phone had rang repeatedly and he finally noticed, taking the call outside. After a couple of minutes, he stepped back in, motioning you to come out. 

“What’s up?” You asked as you stepped out but he was still on the phone. 

“Yeah, she’s right here,” He said and handed the phone to you.

“Hello?” You asked, shooting Nate a confused look. 

“Hey Y/N,” a deep voice said. “This is Tyler Seguin, one of Mikko’s teammates.” 

“I know who you are Tyler,” you said amused. 

"Right, of course," Tyler laughed nervously. "Look, I wouldn't normally do this, but Mikko's in a bad way right now."

Your stomach tightened. "What do you mean? Is he hurt? That hit looked—"

"Not physically," Tyler interrupted. "He's... I don't know how to say this without sounding dramatic, but he's falling apart. After the game, he just sat in his stall for almost an hour. Wouldn't talk to anyone."

You leaned against the brick wall outside the bar, feeling the cool night air against your flushed cheeks. "That's just how he gets after losses. He's always been intense."

“No, this is different," Tyler insisted. “I hate to ask this I really do but I’m really worried about him. I’d pay for everything of course, but can you fly down to Dallas tonight?” 

—--------------------------------------

It was nearly 2 a.m. by the time your rideshare pulled up in front of Mikko’s place. The Dallas humidity clung to your skin as you stepped out, exhaustion creeping into your bones. You hadn’t packed anything. Just grabbed your bag, passport, and pain you hadn’t fully processed.

The front door opened before you could even knock.

He was barefoot, wearing a hoodie and joggers, hair damp like he’d just showered, eyes puffy like he hadn’t slept. He froze when he saw you, like you weren’t real.

“Hi,” you said quietly, clutching your bag to your chest.

“You came,” Mikko whispered, like he couldn’t believe it.

“You didn’t leave me much of a choice.”

He stepped aside, letting you in, closing the door softly behind you. The place was dim, lit only by the TV flickering in the background and the faint glow from the kitchen.

You turned to face him fully now. “I’m not here to fix everything.”

“I know.”

“And I’m still mad.”

“I deserve that.”

“And I might leave tomorrow.”

“If that’s what you need.”

You looked at him—really looked at him—and for the first time, he didn’t try to hide how wrecked he was. Not just from the loss, not just from the season. From missing you. From losing you.

“I didn’t come here for you,” you said, voice barely above a whisper. “I came because someone needed to make sure you didn’t fall apart.”

“I already did,” he said, stepping closer, not touching you but standing just close enough for you to feel the warmth radiating off him. “You were the only thing holding me together, and I ruined that.”

You stared up at him. “You did.”

The silence between you felt heavier in the dark. It wasn’t forgiveness. But it was presence. And for now, that was something.

“Do you want me to go?” you asked quietly.

Mikko shook his head instantly. “No. God, no.”

He took a shaky breath, his voice barely above a whisper. “Can you just… stay? Tonight?”

You blinked at him, unsure what he meant.

“In my bed,” he clarified quickly. “Just to sleep. I just—” His jaw clenched. “I don’t think I can be alone right now.”

You hesitated, torn between instinct and anger, heartbreak and habit. But then you saw the crack in his armor—the deep, hollow ache behind his eyes that told you this wasn’t about comfort in the romantic sense. This was about safety. Familiarity. Stability.

You nodded slowly. “Okay.”

Mikko’s shoulders sagged like your answer had held up the weight of the world. He moved toward the hallway without a word, waiting for you to follow.

The bedroom was exactly what you expected—minimal, a bit messy, and still clearly temporary. A few unpacked boxes in the corner. A half-finished water bottle on the nightstand. He hadn’t really settled in here. It didn’t feel like home.

He tossed you one of his clean hoodies wordlessly, and you slipped into it before crawling into bed beside him. You stayed on your side, facing the opposite direction, the space between you thick with memories and tension.

But then you felt it—his hand brushing yours beneath the sheets, tentative. A silent ask.

You didn’t pull away.

A few beats passed before you heard him whisper, “Thank you for coming.”

You didn’t answer. You just reached back and found his hand under the covers, tangling your fingers with his.

He exhaled shakily and whispered, “Hyvää yötä, rakas.”

—--------------------------------------

Morning came soft and slow.

The sunlight filtered through the blinds, painting stripes across the sheets. You were half-awake when you felt him shift beside you, his thumb brushing gently across your knuckles like he was making sure you were real.

You didn’t move. Didn’t speak.

Not until he broke the silence.

“I lied to you,” Mikko murmured, voice rough with sleep and honesty.

You turned your head just enough to look at him. His eyes were already on you, wide open, vulnerable in the way you hadn’t seen in months.

“I didn’t stop talking to you because it hurt,” he said. “I stopped because it scared the hell out of me.”

You furrowed your brow. “Scared you how?”

“Because I’m in love with you,” he admitted. The words were raw, like they cost him something—but also like they’d been building for far too long. “And every time I looked at you, I saw everything I wanted. And I didn’t know how to handle wanting something I thought I could never really have.”

Your throat tightened, but you didn’t interrupt.

“I thought pushing you away would make it easier,” he continued, eyes never leaving yours. “That if I kept you at a distance, the feelings would fade. But they didn’t. They got worse. You were all I thought about. And when I saw you at that game…” His voice cracked. “I knew I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t try to fix this.”

You swallowed hard, still processing, still feeling the edges of your heart that had cracked under the pressure of everything he’d said.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me,” he said quietly. “But I love you. And I’m going to prove it. Every day. I’ll do whatever it takes to earn your trust again.”

You were silent for a long moment. The air between you charged with everything that had been broken and everything that might still be possible.

Then finally, you whispered, “You’ve got a long way to go, Mikko.”

He nodded once. “I know.”

You looked at him—really looked—and this time, you didn’t pull your hand away.

And for the first time in a long time, hope didn’t feel like a lie.

[tyrantisterror]

When I was 3 years old I went to a preschool that had this little green crocheted crocodile finger puppet that was my absolute favorite toy to play with of all time. I named her Chelsea, because Chelsea starts with C and crocodile starts with C and more often than not wild animals in fiction aimed at kids have names that start with the same first letter as their species. I played with Chelsea every day, because she was my favorite toy, and because the other kids weren't really interested in her, and also because I eventually started to hide her in a special secret spot in the room so no one else would find her before I did. She was so beloved by me that when I graduated from preschool, my teachers gave Chelsea to me permanently, because it was clear no one else would ever love that little crochet crocodile as much as me anyway (in part because I hid her). They waited a few weeks after I graduated before doing it, too, and sent Chelsea with some post cards as if the crocodile had been on a whirlwind "travel the world" vacation before deciding to come live with me.

And Chelsea remained my favorite toy all through my childhood. There were others I loved nearly as much, like my Imperial Godzilla and the big red T.rex from the first Jurassic Park toy line and my tiny knockoff plush Charmander, but Chelsea always held the place of honor in my heart. She was my absolute favorite toy.

I kept a lot of my favorite toys through adolescence, even if social pressure eventually got me to give away a lot of them (and some, y'know, broke). That's obviously not surprising to you if you've followed my blog, since I still collect toys into my adulthood. But it's important to note because while I know I made a conscious effort to never throw out Chelsea every time I pared down my collection... at some point, she went missing.

I became aware of it when I graduated from high school. I was feeling really emotional about leaving that stage of my life and, y'know, becoming an adult and shit, and in that state I decided to find Chelsea to reassure myself that I hadn't entirely left childhood behind. But Chelsea wasn't there. No matter how hard I looked, I could not find Chelsea anywhere.

And that was, like, devastating, because the only explanation was that somehow, at some point, I had accidentally tossed her out with some other "childhood junk" while trying to grow up and be responsible in my teen years. I had literally thrown away my childhood in a careless attempt to be more grown up.

Of course I knew she was just a toy - nothing more than some yarn twisted together in the loose shape of a crocodile, lifeless and soul-less and more or less worthless in the objective light of day. But she was also Chelsea, my best friend since i was three, my stalwart little pal, a source of comfort for most of my life at that point, and I had just... tossed her out! Like garbage! What kind of person was I becoming if I could do that to my best friend?

I was very visibly distraught, and my mom noticed. Being very crafty, she tried to find the pattern for Chelsea so she could crochet me a new one. The problem is, she had no idea where to find said pattern. She checked all her books of crochet patterns, and when that failed she tried the internet, but no matter how hard she looked, she found nothing.

So my mom found the next best thing.

The original Chelsea was a tiny finger puppet, and I had "met" her when I was three. Well, I was eighteen now - shouldn't Chelsea have grown too? And as has been established, this crocodile was fond of whirlwind vacations. My mom found a pattern that looked as much like Chelsea as possible while also being a much bigger crocodile, and gifted her to me before I left for college - to show that while we can't stop the flow of time or how it changes us, that doesn't mean we have to leave it behind.

And yeah, I decided to believe it. That's Chelsea now. Yeah, I know that in reality it's a completely different set of yarn made by my mom rather than... whoever it was that crocheted the original Chelsea, but then, Chelsea was never really the yarn. She was the feelings I put into the yarn, you know? So that's Chelsea, all grown up, and still my most prized toy.

...

Flash forward... Jesus, eighteen years, holy shit. A few weeks ago I saw a post trying to identify a different crochet crocodile pattern, and thinking it was cute, I decided to try and look for it on ebay and etsy, just to see if maybe I could find it. I didn't, but do you know what I found instead?

A very familiar crochet crocodile finger puppet. An intensely familiar one, you might say. Of course I bought it. And of course I asked the seller if, perhaps, they might have the pattern for it or know where it came from (they did not, alas). And after a few days, she showed up at my house.

She's not Chelsea, obviously. For one thing, she's far too clean and fresh looking - Chelsea was very well loved, and looked the part, while this crocodile finger puppet has definitely not endured years upon years of a child's affection. And, more importantly, she's not Chelsea because we've already established that Chelsea grew up into a bigger crochet crocodile. This has to be Chelsea's younger sister, Cici.

And if I could find another of Chelsea's kind after all these years, then maybe, with a bit of luck, I might find the pattern for her, and be able to make more of them. Fill the world with Chelseas.

[supernovafics]

𝐃𝐎 𝐌𝐄 𝐀 𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 8.7k words

summary: in which you and steve randomly meet at a bar and realize that you two can help each other out with a similar problem

warnings: explicit language, mentions of alcohol/drinking, mentions of past bad relationships (very recent breakups), smut (18+), oral (f!receiving), protected p in v sex

author’s note: i genuinely can’t believe how long this ended up being lol hope yall enjoy though!<333

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“We could be the greatest wingwoman and wingman for you right now if you just let us, dingus.”

Steve rolled his eyes at Robin’s words. “I already let you guys drag me to this bar, isn’t that enough?”

Robin responded with a simple, “No, it’s not” before taking another sip of her drink, while Eddie said something about how if this were a year ago, they wouldn’t have had to force Steve to this bar because he would have suggested the idea himself. 

“Monica changed you for the worse, man,” Eddie continued, and Steve only frowned at him. 

Robin gave Eddie’s arm a quick whack. “Hey, we promised no Monica slander tonight. At least not right in front of him.”

Steve gave them both the most unamused look. “You guys really had to make a deal about that? To not talk shit about my ex?”

“Okay, don’t say it like that,” Robin told him. “It would actually be super warranted if we did wanna talk shit about her. She was super pretentious and she hated all of your friends; me and Eddie, especially.”

Steve couldn’t think of a rebuttal to that on the spot, so he ended up saying nothing. And then he reminded himself that Monica had brutally dumped him two weeks ago, so why should he even want to defend her to his best friends anymore?

“There’s seriously not one girl here right now that you could maybe be interested in?” Eddie asked, and Steve was grateful that the conversation was at least slightly shifting away from Monica.

But, he didn’t even take a quick look around the bar before answering Eddie’s question with an immediate “No” and hoping that the subject would change again.

Eddie groaned and then proceeded to finish what was left of his beer, and Robin sighed before saying, “If you at least talked to a random girl here, and just maybe flirted a little bit, don’t you think you’d feel a little less sad about the breakup?”

“I’m not sad about it, though,” Was Steve’s immediate response, and it was only kind of a lie. 

It really wasn’t Monica breaking up with him that made him sad; it was more about him spending almost a year of his life with someone that he knew he probably shouldn’t have been with in the first place because of how incompatible they were. That hard truth was what made him feel sad and a little stupid. Actually, scratch that, a lot stupid. But things with her had become so comfortable and routine that it eventually felt easier staying than leaving. 

Robin simply gave him a look before shaking her head. “You’re a terrible liar. Last night I saw you watching that one National Geographic documentary that you only watch when you’re sad. Which I still find kinda weird, but you’re my best friend and I love you and all of your weird coping habits.”

“Wait, which documentary is it again?” Eddie asked, laughing a little. “The one about the whales or the one about the lions?”

“Whales,” Robin answered. “And it's like three hours long.”

“I’m going to the bathroom,” Steve abruptly said before Robin or Eddie could say anything else. 

He left his half-drunk beer with his friends and walked away from the high table they’d been occupying for the past hour and headed toward where the bathrooms were down a random hallway. 

“Don’t try to sneak out the back. We have your location and we will find you,” He heard Robin say from behind him. “And don’t turn it off now that I just mentioned it.”

Steve laughed as he held up his hand, giving her a quick thumbs-up in response. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

There was only so much waiting and hiding you could do, so you decided to ask the first guy that you saw exiting the bathroom. 

“Hey, are the two girls sitting at the end of the right side of the bar looking this way?” 

Surprisingly, this random guy didn’t question why you were asking him that, or why you couldn’t check that yourself, or even question why you were so obviously hiding in this slightly secluded hallway where the terrible bathrooms were. 

Instead, he stepped out of the hallway a little bit and took a peek around the corner for you, and then turned back to you after a second. “Yeah, I see two girls looking this way.”

“Shit.”

“Who are they?”

“My friends.”

The confused look he gave you was immediate. “Why are you trying to avoid your friends?”

You sighed as you leaned back against the wall behind you. “Because they’re trying to convince me that going home with a random guy tonight will help me get over my boyfriend who just broke up with me.”

The laugh he let out in response surprised you. It also made you feel equal parts offended and amused. 

“Is my devastating heartbreak funny to you?”

For the most part, you were exaggerating; your breakup with Elliott hadn’t actually been all too devastating— no outward lying or cheating, just a lot of miscommunications and bad timings— but you kind of wanted this random guy to feel at least a little bad for laughing at you. 

“Shit, no, sorry,” He said, and his cheeks reddened a bit in what you could only assume was embarrassment, and you suddenly felt kind of bad about getting so defensive. “I just laughed because my friends are trying to do the same thing for me, too.” 

“Oh, sorry,” You said, feeling slightly worse now that you knew that you two were in the same boat. “Sorry about your breakup.”

He shrugged like it was fine. “How long have you been standing here hiding from your friends?”

“Five minutes, maybe,” You answered as you pulled out your phone to quickly check the time. Seeing that it was a little after ten thirty let you know that you’d actually been standing here for closer to ten minutes, but you didn’t correct yourself. “My plan is to somehow find an opening to slip out the front door, and then I’ll send them a picture from my Uber telling them that I left.”

“Solid plan.”

“I can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic or not.”

“Maybe a little bit,” He said, giving you a small smile, and it was then that you were realizing, or finally noticing, that this guy was cute; even in the shitty bar lighting you could tell that. 

Maybe it was because of his sweet smile, or maybe it was the denim jacket he was wearing over a plain white t-shirt that suited him really well. Or maybe it was his hair that looked as if he got out of bed and pushed a quick hand through it and then proceeded to leave his home, and you meant that in the best way possible.

Either way, this guy was really cute and so clearly your type— even though you felt like you were in no place to consider anything romantic with anyone, you could recognize his attractiveness— and you were suddenly being hit with an idea.

“Wait, you said that your friends are trying to set you up with someone here too, right?”

He let out a sigh. “Yeah, they are.”

“And I’m guessing by that sigh that you don’t wanna do that?” You asked, and when he shook his head in answer, you continued. “Okay, I think we maybe can help each other get out of here. This might sound a little insane since we literally don’t know each other at all, but let’s just pretend we really like each other in front of our friends— like, be super flirty and whatever. And then we’ll leave here together, letting them think that we’re gonna…” The thought of saying the word suddenly made you feel awkward, so you didn’t. “Do what they want us to do.”  

After taking a moment to process your sudden idea— you honestly wouldn’t have been surprised if the guy said no because it was pretty weird— he nodded. “That’s actually a really great idea.” 

“Thank you. I’m known for my great ideas, actually,” You said, smiling at him as you reached out to grab his hand and intertwine it with yours. 

If the thought of saying that you and this stranger were gonna have sex made you feel awkward, then abruptly holding his hand should’ve felt weird too, but surprisingly it didn’t. “Alright, let’s just act like we’re super into each other, I guess.” 

“I’m Steve, by the way,” He told you. 

“Oh, yeah, that’s probably important information to know,” You said and then proceeded to tell him your name too. 

You led the way to your friends and the small corner of the bar where they were lingering by. 

“Hey, guys, this is Steve,” You said and slapped on the happiest smile you could muster at the moment. 

“Steve,” Danielle was the first one to say something after noticing your and Steve’s interlocked hands. “What’s your last name?”

“Harrington.”

And then Amy was jumping in. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-three.” 

“What do you do?”

“I work at the record store down the street.”

“So, you’re a music guy?”

“Not really, I guess. My friend got me a job there.” 

You decided to stop the interrogation before Steve got scared away by this back and forth questioning Danielle and Amy were doing. “Okay, okay, that’s enough of the interview. His friends are gonna think he ditched them or something.”

“You guys should come over to the table we’re at,” Steve said and then pointed in the direction of where his friends were with his free hand. “There’s enough room.”

You nodded at his words. “That’s a great idea.” 

If Danielle or Amy were aware of this act you were putting on— how you were no longer rejecting their idea of you flirting with some guy to “get over” Elliott— they didn’t call you out on it. Instead, they agreed that going to the table with Steve’s friends was a good idea. 

Quick introductions were made, and then the group settled into typical small talk. However, you and Steve deliberately fell into your own kind of “flirty conversation” and played it up for your friends, all of whom tried to pretend that they weren’t intensely watching you two, but they failed miserably at hiding their staring, which was exactly what you both wanted. 

After a few minutes of exaggerated smiles and elated laughs, Steve leaned in close to your ear. “How long do you think we’re gonna have to do this?”

You softly giggled like he just whispered the sweetest thing to you and then leaned into his ear. “Follow my lead.”

You pulled back and then shifted so that you were standing closer to him, and he quickly took the hint and wrapped his arm around you. 

“Hey,” You said, grabbing the attention of your friends and his, which was easy because they had already been half-listening to you and Steve anyway. “We’re gonna head out of here, so we’ll see you guys later.”

There was a mix of confused and surprised looks that crossed all over their faces for the briefest moment, and then Amy was the one to first say something. “Really?”

“Yeah,” You nodded. “I want to take Steve to my place to show him something.”

“Since I’ve never seen the second Home Alone movie, we’re gonna watch that,” Steve added. Out of all of the movies he could’ve said, you weren’t sure why he was mentioning a Christmas one in September, but sure, you’d play along. 

“You’re gonna watch a movie?” Robin asked, somehow looking both skeptical and amused. 

Steve nodded. “Yeah.”

“Yup,” You agreed as you reached up to lace your fingers with his hand that was around your shoulders and used that to push yourself even closer to him. 

“Okay,” Eddie said, failing to bite back his grin. “Have fun watching a movie.”

“We will,” Steve told him and gave your hand a light squeeze. 

“I’ll text you guys later,” You said to Danielle and Amy, who were looking at you with equally surprised but happy looks. After so many years of friendship, it was pretty easy to read each other, but you hoped that they couldn’t see through what you were doing; you hoped you were faking all of this well enough.

Neither of them said anything, though, and they instead nodded and said different versions of “We’ll talk to you in the morning,” which let you know that they were just happy that you were actually following through with what they wanted you to do tonight. 

Steve pulled his arm from around you and just went to normally holding your hand, and you two said final goodbyes to your friends and then headed away from the table. You two stayed practically attached at the hip until you were out of the door. The cold hit you immediately, but it wasn’t too unbearable with your jacket on, although you still wished that you had opted for a better dress. You gave Steve a quick look as the bar door closed behind you both.   

“Nice idea with the movie thing, even though Home Alone 2 is so random,” You said with a laugh. “They all definitely think we’re about to go have sex in my apartment.”

“I’ve kinda used that movie line before,” Steve said. “It’s been a while, but Robin and Eddie still know what it means.” 

You gave him an amused smile. “Okay, so Home Alone 2 is code for ‘I’m about to go hook up with this random girl’?”

“No, I don’t use the same movie every time,” He laughed a little. “That one was just the first thing that came to my mind this time.”

You nodded as you slipped your hand from his and you reached into the pocket of your jacket to pull out your phone. You opened the Uber app and ordered a car so that you could finally go home. 

“So, what are your plans for the rest of the night?” Steve asked as you slipped your phone back in your pocket. 

“Head home and probably finish the bottle of wine that I had been drinking before my friends dragged me here, and then call my ex and leave very stupid voicemails.”

You didn’t mean to be so honest— if your friends had asked you that question, you would’ve lied and avoided any and all mentions of Elliott because you wanted to make it seem like you were dealing with the breakup just fine— but talking to Steve made you want to be truthful for some reason; maybe because you two were going through the same thing. 

“That doesn’t sound like the best idea.”

“It’s not,” You agreed, but didn’t say that you wouldn’t still be following through with it. 

Things became quiet as you two stood on this sidewalk, not at all as close as you two were when you were trying to play things up in front of your friends. There was actual space between you two for the first time in the last ten minutes, and you weren’t looking at him anymore, instead, you were focused on the quiet street. The faint sounds of all the noise coming from inside the bar managed to fill the silence, and you wondered if this was the part where you two were supposed to go your separate ways. Now that you helped each other get what you both wanted, what else was there to say or do? 

You were about to mumble something along the lines of “Thanks for your help tonight,” but Steve was speaking before you could. “My ex texted me earlier.”

Weirdly enough, you actually felt a little relieved that he was keeping the conversation going. You honestly didn’t mind talking to him. There was something about this entire conversation that felt so simple and easy, even though you were talking about kind of shitty things. 

You looked at him. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

“My friends would say bad. And a part of me knows it’s bad too, but I don’t know,” He shrugged. “It’s kinda tempting.”

You understood what he meant completely, but you still gave him advice that you probably wouldn’t have taken for yourself. “Okay, well, if my opinion matters at all in this, which I know it probably doesn’t, you shouldn’t text her back.”

“And then, in that case, you shouldn’t drunk call your ex,” He reminded you. 

“Why did you two break up?” You asked instead of outwardly agreeing with his words. 

“She did it two weeks ago over the phone,” Steve told you. “She said that things were feeling “off” between us and maybe they always had been.”

“Ouch,” That word felt like an understatement to represent just how shitty breaking up with someone over a phone call was, but it was all you could manage to say right then. 

He gave you a quick nod, breaking your gaze for a second, and then he threw the question your way. “What about you?”

“He wanted to move to California, and I wanted to stay here,” You answered. That was the short version of it; the easy version of it. 

“Okay, that sounds pretty amicable,” Steve responded. 

You almost simply agreed with him just to let this part of the conversation end, but it didn't feel right doing that. For reasons you couldn’t fully recognize just yet, you didn’t want to lie to Steve. 

“It wasn’t,” You admitted softly. “The moving thing came up months ago, and if we were smart, we would’ve just ended things then, but we didn’t. I told him I didn’t want to move, and he said that was fine, but it definitely wasn’t fine. He started pulling away and being a dick, and we both became really shitty toward each other by the end of it until he finally broke up with me and then moved like he wanted to.”

“Okay, nevermind. That sounds like it sucked.”

“And yours seems pretty bad too,” You said. “Doing it over the phone is such a fucked move. Did you see it coming?”

“No, but also yes, which probably doesn’t even make sense,” He answered, and in your eyes, it did make sense, but you didn’t interrupt him to tell him that. “There was something that always felt “off” about us, but in the moment, it never seemed like that big of a deal. Looking back now, though, it’s so obvious that we were never gonna work, and I guess it’s kinda good that she ended it.”

“But, she texted you today,” You reminded him. 

“Yeah,” He said and then sighed. 

“I still don’t think you should say anything back to her,” You told him. “Now, after hearing that she broke up with you over the phone, she definitely doesn’t deserve a text back.”

“If you don’t call your ex tonight, I won’t text mine back,” Steve said, giving you a look that you couldn’t fully decipher, but you were still nodding at his words. 

“Deal,” You said and then held out your hand for him to shake— because it felt like the obvious thing to do, even if the “deal” you two were making was a playful one— and he did. You didn’t understand how his hand was still warm after being out in the cold for the past few minutes, but it was nice all the same. 

As if on cue, a car pulled up in front of the bar with the all too familiar Uber sticker in its windshield. You looked at it for a quick second and then at your phone to make sure it was the right car. And then after that confirmation, you looked at Steve. 

“You coming?”

The confused look he gave you was immediate. “You want me to?”

You nodded and smiled at him. “Yeah, how else are we gonna make sure we both follow through with the deal we just made?”

“Makes sense,” Steve said, nodding back with a small, amused smile on his face, and then he followed you to the car. 

You two sat on opposite ends in the backseat, and it was probably the first time all night that the silence between you two felt a little awkward.  

“Can I read the text she sent you?” You asked, halfway through the ten-minute ride. “Sorry, if that’s weird, I don’t know why I’m so curious.” 

“Not weird,” Steve told you as he tapped on his phone for a second and then handed it over to you. 

You took a brief look at the previous messages sent between them, which was a lot of simple stuff, and then you focused on the most recent one. 

I’ve been thinking about you a lot today. Maybe we can meet up soon and talk? Let me know when you’re free. 

It was hard not to roll your eyes at the message. It felt almost too painstakingly equivalent to something Elliott had said to you the day he moved out of your apartment. His one final attempt to get you to change your mind and move to California with him, as if all the damage to your relationship hadn’t already been done. 

You were about to hand Steve his phone back, but then you noticed something. 

“Steve,” You said, looking at him in the darkness of the car. “Why is there still a heart by her name?”

“I haven’t gotten around to changing it yet,” He answered, which didn’t sound like the best excuse to you because you thought about how promptly you had changed Elliott’s contact name to “Asshole” once he left the apartment for the final time. 

“Alright, let me do the honors for you,” You said as you deleted the red heart and then Monica’s name entirely and simply put “EX.” “Okay, here you go.”

You handed the phone back to him, and he looked at what you did and then laughed a little. “I don’t know why I thought you were gonna make it something a lot meaner.”

“It was tempting,” You started. “But, I don’t know her, so I don’t know what mean stuff would’ve been the most fitting.”

Steve nodded as he slipped his phone back in his pocket. “What’s your ex’s name?”

“Asshole in my contacts and Elliott in real life,” You answered and Steve laughed again and then said a quick, “Got it.”

You made it to your apartment building five minutes later and it took another five minutes, due to very shitty elevators, to make it to your actual apartment.  

“Welcome to my place,” You said to Steve as you flicked on the light and then pulled off your jacket and hung it on one of the hooks by the front door, and slipped off your shoes. 

“Did you just move in?” Steve asked, following suit and doing the same with his jacket, and then toeing off his shoes by the door as well. 

The half-emptiness of your apartment didn’t really faze you anymore, but you understood how unfinished the place looked to someone who was seeing it for the first time. 

“Oh, no, I’ve been here for almost three years now. When Elliott moved out, he took a lot of things, so it looks a little weird and half-decorated now,” You quickly explained, hoping that you successfully masked the sudden awkwardness in your voice because you now felt the tiniest bit embarrassed that you brought him here. “I’m still working on getting a new TV, so for now we can just watch something on my laptop if you want.”

Before Steve could say anything in response, you grabbed your laptop from where it sat on the small coffee table in your living room and then handed it over to him. “I’ll be right back; I need to get out of this dress. But you can put on whatever you want.” 

“Okay,” You heard him say as you headed toward your bedroom. 

It didn’t hit you how sort of insane this entire situation was until you closed your bedroom door behind you, and you were left alone for the first time since you met Steve near the bar bathrooms. Now, logical thinking was kicking in, and you considered just how much of a bad idea all of this was. 

There was a guy who you barely knew in your apartment, and you had no plans on having sex with him, so this wouldn’t end up being a one-night stand kind of thing. So, what would happen instead? You two would simply talk and genuinely watch a movie, and then what?

Although you had no idea what the answer to that question was, it actually didn’t completely scare you. Because yes, this was kind of an odd set of circumstances, but you and Steve were going through the same thing, and that somehow made everything feel different. You weren’t nervous around him, and you hadn’t been all night; instead, things had felt weirdly easy, you realized. And you decided to keep leaning into that easy feeling and not overthink whatever this was or would be.  

You slipped out of your dress and put on what was probably the most comfortable pair of pajama pants you owned and a simple t-shirt. When you stepped out of your bedroom and headed back into the living room, you saw Steve sitting on the couch, and a small, slightly amused smile tugged at your lips as you noticed what was playing on your laptop, which was opened up and back on the coffee table.

“Okay, I definitely didn’t expect you to put on a nature documentary,” You said as you sat down next to him, leaving a fair amount of space between you two. “I don’t know why I thought you’d put on something super boyish. Like, Die Hard or one of the million Fast and Furious movies.”

“Oh, I was planning on putting on Die Hard after this,” He said, and you immediately took notice of the playful tilt in his voice.

“An ocean documentary and Die Hard sounds like a solid double feature,” You joked back with a smile, and Steve laughed in response and then proceeded to tell you that this documentary was specifically about whales. 

A comfortable silence began to linger as you grabbed the throw blanket that was folded on the back of the couch and spread it over your lap and then offered some of it to Steve, which he accepted— it was long enough to fit you both comfortably even though you weren’t right next to each other. And then you focused on the documentary and the Australian narrator talking about the vastness of the ocean. 

“We can watch something else if you want,” Steve abruptly said about five minutes in. His words slightly surprised you because you had actually been finding the documentary pretty interesting so far and you hadn’t done anything to show otherwise. “My friends always hate when I put this on.”

You looked away from the laptop screen and at him. “How often do you watch this?”

“Whenever I’m not feeling great,” He answered, turning a little to look at you too. “Like, sick or sad.”

“Okay, and with your breakup, I guess this has been on repeat these past two weeks?” You asked, and the nod he gave you in response made you think that he was embarrassed by that answer, and you immediately wanted to make him not feel that way. “My personal sad go-to has been putting on this one reality show where people do dumb obstacle courses to win money. There’s like twenty seasons of that show and I’m halfway through it.”

“That’s what we should actually watch after this,” Steve said, giving you a playful smile. 

“Yeah, and we can wallow in our collective sadness,” You nodded in agreement, which made him laugh. “And this will probably sound weird or just not even make sense, but I’m not even sad about me and him breaking up, because I know that it definitely needed to happen. I’m sad about basically wasting the last two years of my life with someone who didn’t end up being “the one” or whatever. Thinking about that feels so much worse than the breakup itself.”

Steve gave you a look that you couldn’t decipher at all. It was probably the first time all night that you felt slightly self-conscious under his gaze. You got the urge to look away from him and focus back on the whales on screen, but you didn’t. 

Instead, your eyebrows furrowed. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Sorry, it’s just, I feel the exact same way pretty much,” He told you. “I’m not really that sad that Monica broke up with me, I just feel really stupid that we were even together in the first place. She didn’t really like my friends and would always make fun of my job.”

“Didn’t you say you work at a record store? What is there to make fun of about that?” 

“She would say a lot of stuff about how ‘it’s a job that’s going nowhere,’ but then play it off like she was just joking.” 

You were unable to hold back your grimace. “Wow, that sounds terrible.”

You noticed the embarrassed look cross his face and you felt the immediate need to change it.  

“Sorry, sorry, I’m not judging,” You quickly told him. “Elliott called me a lot of mean things by the end, and I still stayed with him, so I know all about making dumb decisions in a relationship.”

Steve frowned at your words. “How mean?”

“So mean that you’re actually the first person I’ve even mentioned that to. It still feels way too embarrassing to bring it up to my friends,” You admitted, and it was then that you had to finally look away from him. “I don’t really get why it’s so easy to talk to you.”

“Probably because we’re basically strangers,” Steve said, and after considering his words for a second, you nodded. “And fuck him, by the way, for whatever mean shit he said to you. That sounds pretty terrible too.”

“That’s why I wanted to call him tonight and leave equally as mean drunk voicemails, but you talked me out of it,” You said, finally meeting Steve’s eyes again. “You’re right, though, it would’ve been stupid to do that.”

Steve shook his head. “Oh, when you said that, I thought you meant that you wanted to leave the sappy kind of drunk voicemails where you talk about wanting to get back with him or something.” 

“Oh, no way. I was just gonna list off a bunch of bad things about him,” You responded. “Like, the kinds of things that when you’re dating the person, it just seems like a little quirk or bad habit that you can overlook, but in hindsight you’re like, why did I put up with any of that, y’know?”

Steve nodded understandingly. “Can I hear the list?” 

“You sure you wanna hear me rant about my ex?” You asked him with an amused smile, and Steve laughed a little and nodded again. “Okay, he would always forget to turn off stuff before he left the apartment; the TV, lights, anything really. He never did the dishes and would always get a little annoyed when I asked him to do it. Oh, and he hated whenever I would beat him at any kind of games.” 

“That’s a very solid list.”

“Also, he,” You started and then immediately cut yourself off, realizing that maybe you should have at least somewhat of a filter. “Nevermind, it’s stupid.”

Steve gave you a look. “Wait, now you have to say it.”

“He never…” You looked away from Steve’s curious gaze and instead focused on the blanket draped over your lap. You pulled at a random loose string as you said your next words. “He never went down on me.”

“Really?” He asked, and you simply nodded because it suddenly felt too hard to form words right then. “You were together for almost two years, and he didn’t do it once?”

You nodded again and then finally found your voice. “He said he wasn’t a “fan” of it. Meanwhile, he loved when I gave him a blowjob.” 

It was pretty obvious that your filter was completely gone at this point; if it had ever even really been there in the first place when it came to Steve. 

“Wow.”

You tilted your head at him. “I can’t tell what that wow means.”

“It means that he’s an idiot and you should’ve been the one dumping him, not the other way around, and also, once again, he’s definitely an idiot.”

You laughed a little. “Woah, who knew one word could mean so much?”

“Yeah, it has a ton of connotations to it,” Steve joked, smiling at you. 

You both went back to watching the documentary on your laptop, but there was something about this part of the conversation that didn’t feel over yet. You didn’t feel like you could just go back to watching this whale documentary as if you hadn’t just admitted the most embarrassing thing about your sex life.  

“Um, what about you, though?” You asked, and Steve looked at you again, a confused furrow to his eyebrows like he didn’t fully get what you meant by the question, so you elaborated. “What was shitty about your sex life?”

Steve was quiet at first, and for a second, you thought that maybe for the first time that night, you two had reached a question that was “too much,” or worse, there had been nothing bad about his sex life with his ex, so he had no answer to give you.  

“Um, she always wanted to do the same thing,” Steve finally answered after what felt like the longest stint of silence ever, and you were completely confused by that response. 

“What do you mean?”

“She only wanted to do missionary. Nothing else,” He explained. “And I know that it’s a classic, I get that completely, and it definitely is. But sometimes you just wanna change things up, y’know?”

You nodded instead of outwardly saying anything because you didn’t want to admit that aside from the lack of oral, your sex life with Elliott had been pretty good. 

“So, almost a year of just missionary?” You asked, and Steve gave you a nod that seemed equivalent to the one you’d given him when it was you answering this kind of question. “What would you do if you could choose?”

You noticed his cheeks turning the tiniest hint of pink as he considered the question. “Oh, um, girl on top, I think. That one’s pretty good.” 

You weren’t sure why you expected him to say something a little crazier, but you didn’t tell him that. 

“Good choice,” Was what you said instead. 

There was another lull in the conversation, and maybe that was where it should’ve finally ended, but there was something about it that still didn’t feel entirely over just yet. 

“I could—”

“We could—”

Your and Steve’s suddenly spoken words stumbled over each other and made you both stop abruptly.  

“What were you gonna say?” He asked.

You shook your head. “You can go first.”

“No, no, I’m a gentleman,” Steve told you, a small smile on his face. “So, ladies first.”

You rolled your eyes at him, but there was nothing serious behind it. “I was gonna say that maybe we could… Maybe we could help each other out. Like, show one another what the other was ‘missing out on’ while they were in their relationship.” You then rushed out your next words before Steve could respond to your previous ones. “What were you gonna say?”

“I was gonna say that I could do what your ex didn’t want to do for you.”

“Just me?” You asked, and he nodded. “Well, it wouldn’t be fair if you got nothing out of this.”

Steve gave you a quick shrug. “I wasn’t really thinking about me.”

You teasingly smiled at him. “Wow, you truly are a gentleman.”

He laughed. “I told you.”

“If we did actually do this, though,” You started. “I would also wanna do your thing too.”

“Yeah?”

You nodded. “Yeah. If you go down on me, I’ll happily ride you.” 

Finally outwardly saying the words made you laugh a little; you couldn’t help it. None of what was happening right then felt exactly weird, but it was definitely… surprising.  

“This is such an insane conversation,” Steve responded, laughing too. 

“Oh, yeah, it definitely is,” You said, looking away from him and focusing back on your laptop screen for a second. “We could just go back to watching the documentary and pretend this never happened.”

“Is that what you wanna do?”

“Not really, no,” You admitted. Logically, your answer probably should’ve been the opposite, but you honestly couldn’t imagine saying yes to his previous question and actually pretending that this conversation hadn’t happened. “Do you?”

Steve shook his head. “No.”

“Okay, so it’s settled then. Should we shake on this too?” You asked, mainly joking with your words. 

“Yes, definitely,” He said, playing along. “That’s the only way it will be real.”

You scooted a little closer to him, closing most of the space between you two on the couch, and then held out your hand. “So, deal?”

He grabbed your outstretched hand and shook it. “Deal.”

This was the second handshake shared between you two, but this one felt charged with something different than the one outside the bar. 

Steve’s hand was warm against yours, and you were also noticing how soft it was too. Your eyes stayed on his, and even though you didn’t really know him that well, if at all, you still felt as if you somehow understood what was going on in his head because it matched exactly what was happening in yours. 

With your hands still linked together, he pulled you closer, and then let go at the last second to find your cheek and slot his lips against yours. It was messy at first, a sudden clash of tongues and teeth, but it also felt really good, and it took only a second for you two to find your collective rhythm.  

Steve was a great kisser, which surprised you because first kisses with people were never this good, and they definitely never felt this right. There were always some sort of growing pains as you navigated what to do and figured out what the other wanted, but that somehow wasn’t the case for you and Steve. 

You definitely didn’t expect your first post-Elliott kiss to be damn near perfect, and you decided not to think too much about what exactly it meant that it was happening with Steve; a guy you’d barely known for two hours. 

“You’re really good at this,” You mumbled against his lips. 

“What? Kissing?” He whispered back in between each one. 

“Yeah.”

Steve pulled back to look at you, a small, amused smile playing on his lips. “Thanks. You’re really good too.”

You suddenly started feeling shy under his gaze, so you quickly leaned back in to get him to stop looking at you so sweetly. His hand still holding your cheek kept you steady and further warmed your already burning skin, and you let out the softest sound against his mouth when his free hand slipped beneath your shirt and found your waist, giving the bare skin a quick squeeze. 

You wanted to move out of this awkward side-by-side position and sit in his lap, but you also wanted to get off the couch completely, so you abruptly pulled away from him and stood up. Wordlessly, your hand found Steve’s again, and you led him to your bedroom. 

The second the door was closed behind you both, Steve’s mouth eagerly found yours again, which made you smile into the kiss, as he walked you back toward the bed. The second the backs of your knees hit the foot of the bed, he gently pushed you down on top of it.  

Before he could even ask or say anything, you were pulling your t-shirt off and tossing it somewhere to the side, and then doing the same with your pajama pants. The look he gave you as you now lay on your bed, half naked with only your bra and underwear on, made something stir in your stomach. 

“You okay up there?” You asked after a moment, making your voice light and playful, and also trying to push away the feelings that were starting to make a home in your stomach. 

“Yeah, I’m fine, it’s just… Fuck,” He let out a breath. “You’re really pretty.”

You had to turn your head and look away from him then, but you still couldn’t help but smile at his words as your cheek pressed into the blanket. 

This was just supposed to be another case of two people helping each other out. This wasn’t supposed to be so sweet and nice and serious, right? You weren’t sure, but you could inwardly admit that you liked hearing him call you pretty. 

You still weren’t looking, but you could feel Steve settle on top of you and lean in to press his lips to your exposed neck, making you let out a quiet moan. 

He sucked on your skin, a sensitive spot on the underside of your jaw that had you mewling for him, as his hand moved down toward your cunt. He pulled your underwear to the side and slowly pressed his middle finger into your slick folds. 

“Shit,” He mumbled against your neck. “You’re soaked.”

You let out a soft breath. “Like I said, you’re really good at this.”

He pulled away from your clit and out of your wetness completely and you let out a whine in protest, but then his fingers were hooking into the waistband of your underwear and dragging them down your legs. Your bra was next, and you sat up a bit so that he could unhook it and toss it to the side. 

“Fuck,” Steve said, leaning back to simply just look at you for a moment. “You look so perfect for me.”

You were completely naked now, and he was still fully clothed, but you didn’t even feel shy under his lust-filled gaze because you really liked the way he was looking at you in this moment.

Before you could make any move to grab at the ends of his t-shirt to at least pull that off of him, his mouth was on you once again, pressing a quick kiss to your lips and then moving to your neck and continuing lower and lower. 

Your eyes slipped shut, and you let out the softest sounds as he slowly trailed down your stomach and went to your hips and then to your inner thighs, teasingly pressing his mouth against your warm skin at every spot. You felt his hands hook around your thighs and pull you closer to him. 

“Hey,” Steve said to grab your attention, and your eyes met his. Looking at him with his head between your legs and his mouth so close to where you needed him to be was probably the hottest thing you’d ever seen. “Tell me if you want me to do anything differently, okay?”

You nodded before softly saying, “Okay.”

Your head fell back against the bed when his tongue ran a long slow stripe up your slit. He stopped at your clit, circling the bundle of nerves before latching his lips around it and giving it a quick suck. The gasp in pleasure and surprise you let out in response was immediate. 

After one too many rejections from Elliott, you told yourself that you didn’t like oral anyway, always reminding yourself of other times with past partners when it had been rushed and sloppy. But now you knew just how much you’d been lying to yourself because this felt fucking phenomenal. Steve’s mouth felt perfect on you, and there was nothing about this moment that felt rushed or half-baked, like he was just trying to quickly get to the next thing. 

He slipped two fingers inside of you, pushing in as deep as he could go and his mouth went to your clit again. Your fingers threaded through his hair as he lapped at the sensitive bundle of nerves. Steve could tell just how much you were enjoying yourself with every tug on his hair and the contented sounds you were making above him. 

His hand still on your thigh squeezed roughly as he started to suck hard on your clit, which pushed you closer and closer to the edge. It should’ve maybe felt a little embarrassing— how quickly he was about to make you come only from his mouth and fingers— but everything just felt so fucking good that you didn’t care how fast he was making the tight knot in your stomach feel as if it was going to explode. 

“Steve, I- I’m gonna… Fuck,” You trailed off with a loud moan. Words were alluding in this moment as Steve continued his ministrations against your dripping cunt; his mouth on the most sensitive part of you and his fingers deep inside you, curling against an almost too perfect spot.  

Your own fingers pulled a little harder at his dark locks, which made him moan against your clit and the vibrations from that abruptly sent you over the edge. 

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” The words fell from your lips in a sort of whispered chant as your back arched sharply off the bed and you saw stars behind your eyes. 

Steve continued exactly what he was doing as you came, your moans and whimpers sounding like music to his ears. He happily took and lapped at everything you gave him, absolutely loving the taste of you on his tongue. He continued to finger you and eat you out through your orgasm until he felt you become too overstimulated. 

“Fuck,” You squeaked out when his tongue did one final teasing lick against the sensitive bundle of nerves. “Fuck, that was really good.”

Steve pulled away, and he sat up a little, smiling as he watched you come down from your high. “I’m sorry you’ve had to miss out on that for the past two years.”

You let out a breath of a laugh. “Thank you for the condolences.” 

Your heart rate slowly returned to normal, and you turned to Steve, who was now sitting next to you, and you took notice of the obvious tint in his jeans. 

You reached out to palm his hard length. “Girl on top is what you wanted, right?”

He let out a low groan. “Mhm, yeah, but only if you want to do that.”

“Steve,” You said so his eyes would meet yours, and then you proceeded to give him the reassurance that it seemed so clear that he needed. “I really want to do that for you.”

He looked at you so sweetly, and this time you didn’t look away, you simply just smiled back at him as you crawled into his lap. 

Your fingers immediately grabbed the ends of his t-shirt to pull it up and off of him. “Let’s make things even, yeah?”

He nodded, and you shifted back a bit so that you could work on the button of his jeans. You then lifted your hips so that he could push his jeans and boxers down his legs and off him completely. 

Your eyes became glued to his hard cock. You didn’t really know what you were expecting, but he was huge and you could feel yourself becoming wetter at the thought of him filling you up. 

“You have such a pretty cock, Steve,” You whispered as you wrapped a hand around him and brushed your thumb over his slick tip. He groaned in pleasure, and one of his hands immediately found your hip in response, squeezing the bare skin. 

A part of you wanted him to be rougher; you honestly didn’t mind the thought of finding Steve-shaped bruises on your skin in the morning. However, you didn’t tell him that because this moment wasn’t about you.  

“Does that feel good?” You asked instead, voice soft and gentle, as if you couldn’t tell the answer to your question just by all the sounds Steve was making and by the way he was twitching in your hand. 

“Perfect,” He groaned out, eyes meeting yours just for a second before he was looking down and watching as you kept slowly stroking him from base to tip. “Fucking perfect.”

You smiled and wondered if this was how he felt when the roles were reversed and you were the one who was a mess below him. 

“Shit, I need,” Steve let out a strangled breath and his head fell back against the headboard with a soft thud. “Really need to be inside of you.”

You nodded, even though he wasn’t looking at you, and let go of him to reach over and grab a condom from your nightstand drawer.  

Steve watched as you tore open the foil packet and slipped the condom on his cock; it was probably one of the hottest things he’d ever seen. 

“Do you want me to turn around and take it that way, or like, how do you want this?” You asked, meeting his half lidded eyes as you went back to stroking his cock. After what he’d just done for you, you wanted this to be perfect for him. 

“No, I wanna see you,” He said, free hand coming up to gently stroke your cheek. 

You could feel your skin warm under his touch; somehow, that felt like the most intimate thing he’d done to you so far tonight. You nodded at his words instead of saying anything because you were pretty certain your words would’ve failed you anyway. 

You lifted your hips so that you could line him up with your slick entrance and then your eyes met his as you slowly lowered yourself onto him, completely taking his cock inside of you. 

Your and Steve’s collective moans filled the quiet air, and you were the one to break eye contact with him because your eyes were pinching shut. 

Both of his hands shot to your hips to keep you from moving, which was good because you needed a moment to adjust to the feeling of being so full of him.  

“Shit, I’m gonna fucking explode if you move right now,” Steve mumbled, looking down at how well you were taking him. 

“That’s okay,” You told him softly. Your hands rested on his shoulders for a quick moment, and then they tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck. 

He let out a chuckle and met your gaze. “I want this to last more than two seconds.” One of his hands came up to find your breast. “And I also want you to come with me.”

You hummed at the feeling of his fingers squeezing your already hard nipple. “Still such a gentleman.”

Steve laughed again, and that sound turned into a low groan when you lifted your hips ever so slightly and then sank back down onto him. 

“God, you feel so good,” He rambled out. “Taking me so fucking well.”

His words sent a jolt of pleasure through your body. “‘M so full.”

“Yeah?” Steve asked teasingly, and you simply nodded, words failing you the moment he pushed up into you. 

Whatever control you had was lost. You were technically riding him, but he was doing most of the work, and it seemed as if that was exactly what he wanted. He had a near-bruising grip on your hips as he guided your movements and hit all of the right places with each thrust. 

Your face became buried in his neck when it all felt like too much. “Fuck, I’m so close.” 

Your words were whispered against his soft skin, and you could feel his nod in response. “Yeah, me too.”

He slipped a hand between your bodies so that he could find your clit and you sucked in a breath when his thumb started circling it.

“I wanna see you,” He groaned when he felt you clench around his cock, and at first all you could do was hum against his skin in response. “I wanna see you come for me.”

You pulled back and met his gaze, hands finding his bare shoulders to keep you steady. It was harder to do than you expected because of how much you wanted to let your eyes slip shut and simply just take everything Steve was giving you. 

“Hi,” You softly said to him instead of closing your eyes or letting your head fall back in pleasure due to his teasing strokes against your clit. 

“Hi,” He gave you a smile that made your stomach flutter and his hand on your hip pulled you harder against his cock. “You gonna come for me?”

You could only moan in response and give him a meek nod, forcing your eyes to stay on his. The knot in your stomach was tightening and tightening, almost ready to completely unravel. 

“Go ahead,” He said as he thrusted up into you. “Let go.”

“Ah,” You dug your nails into his shoulders the second your orgasm hit you. He looked at you so fondly, like he truly cared about making you feel good, and that only made you come harder, walls fluttering around his cock. 

You once again buried your face in the crook of his neck, sucking the skin and leaving red marks that would be there later. You landed on what you would later realize was an especially sensitive spot on his neck because the second your tongue grazed over it, Steve was letting out a loud moan and spilling into the condom. 

“Fuck,” He muttered as he came and his hands squeezed your hips to keep you firmly planted on his cock. 

You pulled away from his neck to watch him come apart beneath you. It was probably the prettiest thing you'd ever seen— his blown-out pupils, his mouth slightly parted in a moan, and a few locks of his messy hair falling against his forehead. 

Your and his movements slowed as you both came down from your highs. With his hands still on you, he shifted things so that you two were lying sideways on the bed. His softening cock slipped out of you in the process and you couldn’t help but quietly whine at the feeling. 

You two became a tangle of limbs and warm bodies, and your arms circled around his neck to push yourself even closer to him. 

“Was that good for you?” You asked, soft words hitting right against his ear. “You did like all of the work when it should’ve been the opposite.” 

His fingers began mindlessly stroking the bare skin of your back. “No, that was really good.” 

“Mm,” You hummed in response. “Okay, but it does slightly feel like I ended up getting a better outcome to the deal than you.” 

Steve let out a laugh at your playful words as he pulled away from you, and it took a lot of willpower to not protest his actions and keep him close to you. He pointed at a door, silently asking if that was where the bathroom was, and you nodded in response and he headed in.

You got up from your bed and started picking up the clothes that had been haphazardly thrown around the room. You slipped on your t-shirt and underwear, and when Steve emerged from the bathroom, you handed him his shirt and boxers.

It almost felt a little comical remembering that when you first let Steve into your apartment, you inwardly told yourself that you weren’t gonna have sex with him, and this wouldn’t turn into a one-night stand type of situation. 

And now here you two were. 

However, weirdly enough, the thought of this moment following the typical one-night stand rules— Steve leaving right now and you two never seeing each other again— didn’t sit right with you. 

“Have you really not seen Home Alone 2 before?” You asked Steve as he finished slipping on his t-shirt. The talk of that movie had been such a minor moment in the conversation at the bar earlier, but still, you remembered him mentioning it. 

“No, I haven’t,” He answered. 

“Me neither, actually,” You told him. Christmas movies had never really been your favorites. “Do you maybe wanna watch it now?”

You knew what your words meant— that you didn’t want him to leave yet, that you wanted him to stay a little longer— and he understood that too. 

He gave you a small smile and nodded. “Okay. And this is probably the best time to also admit that I’ve never seen the first one either.”

You let out a laugh as you headed into your living room, where your laptop was still playing the documentary from earlier, and Steve followed right behind you. “Okay, double feature it is, then.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

let me know your thoughts<333

[bettys-redwinesupernova]

THE PRANK THAT BACKFIRED (sort of?)

drew starkey x fem!reader

SUMMARY: reader and drew decide to play a prank on the obx cast for her youtube channel. they do the “asking to have another girl over” prank, which results in a very angry obx cast who are out to get drew😅

based on this ask !! i hope this is what you asked for @xoxosblogsblog !! i had so much fun writing this and it was ADORABLE, i hope you like it :)) <3

WARNINGS: pure tooth-rotting fluff, slight angst (not really), like one (?) curse word, insinuation of cheating (the prank), chase & rudy threaten to “throw hands” with drew lmao. (lmk if i missed anything!)

WORD COUNT: 1.25k

THIRD PERSON +

Y/N adjusted the camera, angling it perfectly to catch the cozy backdrop of the apartment she shared with Drew during her surprise visit to the set of Outer Banks season four.

The faint hum of laughter and chatter outside hinted at the cast heading out to grab food, giving her the perfect opportunity to set her plan into motion.

"Hey, guys!" she began with a bright smile, wiggling her fingers to the camera. "Welcome back to my channel. Today, I've got something hilarious planned. You've seen those TikTok pranks where someone asks if they can bring another girl over while their partner's friends or family are listening, right? Well, I'm doing it today—with Drew."

She smirked, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "I've got the cast in on this. Well, not really in on it—they think I'm at a friend's place for the night, so this is going to be pure gold. Let's see how much they love me and how far they'll go to defend me from Drew's, um... betrayal."

She turned the camera to Drew, who sat beside her on the couch, half-smiling, half-shaking his head.

"I can't believe I'm agreeing to this," Drew muttered, running a hand through his hair. "They're going to kill me."

"Kill us, you mean," Y/N teased, poking his side. "But it'll be worth it. Trust me."

"Uh-huh," Drew replied, arching a skeptical eyebrow. "When JD and Rudy show up with pitchforks, you're taking the blame."

Y/N laughed, her grin widening as she leaned into him. "Oh, come on. You know they love me too much to actually hurt me. You, on the other hand..."

Drew sighed dramatically but couldn't hide the small smile tugging at his lips.

A few minutes later, Y/N tucked herself behind the camera, keeping it trained on Drew. Drew pulled out his phone and dialed JD's number, putting the call on speaker. The phone rang twice before JD answered, his voice lively with the sounds of clinking plates and background chatter.

"Yo, Starkey!" JD greeted. "What's up, man?"

Drew exchanged a quick glance with Y/N before diving in. "Hey, would you guys mind if I invited someone over?"

The line went silent for a beat, then JD's confused voice came through. "Uh... sure? Who?"

"Just a friend," Drew said casually.

"Cool, yeah," JD replied, his tone nonchalant. In the background, Madelyn could be heard asking, "Who's he inviting over?"

"Oh, she's just someone I met recently," Drew added, making his voice as nonchalant as possible.

Madelyn's voice sharpened. "Wait, she? Did he say she?"

JD stammered for a moment, then said, "Uh, Drew, man, what are you talking about? You have Y/N—why are you inviting another girl over?"

"It's not that deep," Drew said smoothly, earning a wide-eyed stare from Y/N as she struggled to keep from bursting into laughter.

"Not that deep?" Madelyn's voice rose an octave. "Are you fucking insane? Y/N is literally the best thing that's ever happened to you. You're just going to, what, throw her away for some random girl?"

"Yeah, Drew, what the hell?" Rudy's voice chimed in. "Y/N's gonna find out, dude. She always finds out."

"She's not even here," Drew argued. "And I just want some alone time with this girl. Is that so bad?"

Madelyn's voice was nearly a shriek now. "YES, IT'S BAD! You're in a relationship, Drew! A really amazing one, with an incredible person who, by the way, loves you more than anything!"

"And we love her!" Carlacia added. "You're crazy if you think we're not calling her right now."

"Right?!" Chase's voice joined the chorus, sounding equally appalled. "Drew, what is wrong with you?"

JD sighed loudly. "Man, I'm so disappointed right now. Y/N's, like, the nicest, funniest person ever. She's practically family. I don't even know what to say to you."

Y/N clamped a hand over her mouth, tears forming in her eyes from trying not to laugh. Drew, ever the actor, kept his tone neutral but shot her a playful glare.

"You guys are overreacting," Drew said, feigning exasperation. "I mean, Y/N doesn't have to know, right?"

The collective gasp from the group was loud enough to make Y/N choke on her laughter.

Madison started a rant so fierce it almost made Drew break. "First of all, how dare you? Second of all, Y/N deserves so much better than this! She's gorgeous, sweet, funny—literally the whole package! And you're just going to throw that away? For what?!"

"I can't believe you right now," Rudy chimed in. "If you're serious about this, I'm calling her. Like, right now."

"No, don't—" Drew began, but Y/N couldn't hold it in anymore.

Her laughter burst out like a dam breaking, echoing through the room. Drew immediately broke character, laughing along as he waved his hands at Y/N’s camera.

"Wait, wait!" Y/N called out, coming into view of her camera. "Guys, relax! It's a prank!"

There was a stunned silence on the other end of the line, followed by a cacophony of voices.

"Are you serious?!" Madelyn exclaimed. "You scared the crap out of us!"

"You both are the worst," JD groaned.

Rudy's laugh boomed through the speaker. "I was about to knock some sense into you, man."

Chase chimed in with mock indignation. "I was ready to drive back and throw hands, Drew!"

Y/N giggled, holding her stomach as she leaned against Drew. "I'm so sorry, but I couldn't resist! I saw it on TikTok and knew you guys would freak out. And you did not disappoint."

Madelyn groaned dramatically. "You two are so lucky we love you."

JD sighed. "I'm not speaking to you for a week."

"Okay, that's fair," Drew said with a grin.

Eventually, after more playful scolding and laughter, the group hung up, leaving Drew and Y/N alone again. Y/N turned off the camera, still giggling as she leaned back against the couch.

"That was amazing," she said, wiping tears from her eyes.

Drew shook his head, his expression somewhere between amusement and exasperation. "You're lucky they love you. If it were just me, they'd probably disown me."

Y/N smiled, sliding closer to him. "Well, can you blame them? I mean, look at me. I'm kind of a big deal."

He laughed, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "You really are. They adore you, you know that? It's one of the things I love most about us—how easily you fit into my world."

Her teasing smile softened as she gazed up at him. "It means a lot to me, too. They're like family. And so are you."

Drew leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. "You're everything to me, Y/N. I hope you know that."

Her heart melted as she cupped his cheek, her thumb brushing against his jawline. "I do. And you're everything to me, too."

They stayed like that for a moment, wrapped up in each other. The laughter, the teasing, the chaos—it all melted away, leaving just the two of them in their shared little world.

"You think they'll forgive us?" Drew asked after a moment.

Y/N smirked. "Oh, they'll forgive me. You, on the other hand..."

Drew groaned, burying his face in her shoulder as she laughed.

"Totally worth it," she whispered, pressing a kiss to his temple.

betty’s notes ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

this was so so adorable and so much fun to write !! i hope you all enjoyed, and please please please like and reblog, it means the world when you do <3

my asks are still open so please don’t hesitate to send any in !! i’m in the mood to write some angst, hurt/comfort if you have any requests for drew or rage <3

[rafesangelita]

♡ when a double date with rafe leads to him feeling a sense of familiarity + you may have revealed your biggest secret yet..

warnings: mean!rafe. enemies to ???, suggestive language, lots of cussing lol, slight angst, mild sexting, light degradation (reader and rafe just like being snarky towards each other), sexual tension, flirty banter (?), slight arguing

a/n: this is part two of this fic right here! if you’d like to be added to the taglist just comment on this post or leave me an ask <3 i do plan to write three more parts to this!

links: previous | next | mini series masterlist

wc: 2.9k

[1:19 AM] countryclub: we have the same area code.

you felt cold sheer panic run through your veins at the revelation, your heart beating in your ears as you kept rereading his message. you refused to believe what he said to be true. this couldn’t be happening. sharing the same area code could only mean one thing— both of you resided on the island.

sure, the island was small, but it couldn’t be that small.. right? your mind was reeling, everything that you two had talked about, the pictures that you two shared, over the last few months ran through your mind at lightning speed. tossing your phone to the side, you rested your head in your hands, trying your best to piece something, anything, together. this mystery man didn’t talk like anyone you knew, or so you thought. you chewed on your bottom lip, your chest rising and falling as you realized that you hadn’t even confirmed if you two shared the same area code. for all you know he could just be making up some lame excuse for leaving you high and dry.

yeah, that had to be it.

[1:33 AM] brattydiaries: fuck you. i don’t believe that.

[1:35 AM] brattydiaries: i don’t need you to come up with some elaborate lie in order to spare my feelings. if you weren’t serious about reaching out to me in the first place, then you shouldn’t have asked for my number.

rafe was pacing back and forth in his room, the taste of tequila from his earlier activities still lingering on his tongue. he scoffed once your messages came in, his eyes narrowing at his screen as he scratched the back of his neck. insinuating that he didn’t really want to talk to you was just flat out insane. nowadays, all he could do was imagine the way your voice would sound in his ears while he pounded you in, the thoughts and images of you taking up his headspace.

[1:38 AM] countryclub: are you fucking stupid?? i was very serious about wanting to talk to you, you live in my fucking brain.

[1:39 AM] countryclub: 252. that’s the area code for kildare island.

[1:39 AM] countryclub: and judging by the way you post your nail appointments every two weeks, along with all the sexy lil try-on hauls you did for me, i could confidently say that you’re not a pogue.

your eyes widened in horror. only someone who lived on kildare island would know about the whole ‘kooks vs. pogues’ thing. besides the confirmation with the area code, you knew he wasn’t lying. you stared blankly at the screen, having no idea what to say or even do about this situation. having these kinds of blogs and letting anyone you knew in real life find out about them was social suicide. maybe not so much for rafe, but you? you were a totally different person out here. you had a reputation to uphold, you couldn’t risk the scrutiny you or your parents would face if anyone ever found out.

as mad as you were at the mystery man behind the screen for ghosting you without an explanation, you could understand his sudden disappearance now that you currently felt sick to your stomach at the realization. he was far too close for comfort. based off of his username, you knew you two had to be running in the same social circles, your blood running cold at the thought of this person being someone you might’ve had contact with before. figure eight wasn’t big enough to keep a secret like this, it was only a matter of time before you two would unintentionally reveal yourselves to one another.

[1:50 AM] brattydiaries: this can’t go on any longer. sorry not sorry.

you ignored the small pang of hurt in your chest when you pressed send. apart of you hoped that he wouldn’t let you off so easily. you couldn’t deny the thrilling feeling that sat in your tummy at the prospect of knowing who he is but also being utterly clueless at the same time.

[1:55 AM] countryclub: nah.

[1:55 AM] countryclub: i got you right where i want you now.

there was no way in hell rafe was going to just allow you two to go back to not talking. he did it once, but he wouldn’t be able to do it again. especially now that he knows everything he wants is on his side of the island. just in arm’s reach. obviously, he couldn’t physically stop you from blocking him, but at least he knew that if you responded to him then you two were on the same page.

and sure enough..

[1:59 AM] brattydiaries: whatever.

were you scared shitless? yes. did you believe that this was going to backfire in some way? most definitely; but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t want this. whatever little sexting arrangement you two had going on, it was the only relatively exciting thing you had going for yourself and you weren’t necessarily ready to let it go.

[2:03 AM] countryclub: so can i call you or what?

you shook your head even though he couldn’t see you.

[2:05 AM] brattydiaries: fuck no. goodnight.

rafe smiled down at his phone before getting ready for bed, both of you finding it nearly impossible to get any kind of sleep. when you woke up the next morning, you were met with at least a dozen messages from chanel.

[8:10 AM] chanel ♡: topper just dropped me off at home..

[8:12 AM] chanel ♡: crazyyyyy night.. but anyways! me and you are going on a double date tonight. idk who topper is bringing but you don’t get to say no because love me, okay!?

[8:12 AM] chanel ♡: LMAO imagine it’s rafe

[8:18 AM] chanel ♡: omg you srsly need to wake up already and come over so you could help me choose an outfit!!

you continued reading through her texts, already dreading tonight’s plans as you decided to go ahead and get the day started so you could get this whole ‘date night’ thing over with. even though chanel jokingly said topper would bring rafe to be your date, you really hoped that wasn’t the case. the last thing you felt like doing was fighting or bickering with him because of your indifferences. after spending the afternoon rummaging through chanel’s closet, she finally settled on a dress that she hasn’t worn out before. “where are we even going?” you asked.

“topper said it’s a surprise so he’s picking both of us up from here.” she smiled, her words making you roll your eyes. you hated not knowing what you were getting yourself into. yet again, here you were, sexting with a stranger who just might not be a stranger after all. by the time topper texted chanel that he was outside, you two were in full glam, ready for whatever tonight may bring you. topper opened the doors for both of you, his eyes widening slightly at the sight of you two. “we weren’t sure how to dress, sooo..” topper nodded, “yeah, i can see that.”

topper had on a casual outfit, a stark difference to the mini dresses and heels you and chanel currently wore. “now is probably a good time to tell us where we’re going.” you quipped from the backseat. at your cattiness, chanel flashed you a glare. “rafe offered up his boat, so i figured we’d just have a couple drinks, have a good time, ‘you know?” you scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest as chanel happily agreed. this was bullshit. not only did you have to spend the next few hours with rafe on his stupid boat, but you were sure this ‘double date’ was going to turn into a third wheeling act real fast.

fifteen minutes later, and rafe was reaching out to help you onto the druthers, an annoyed look written all over his face as you tossed your purse at him first. “what? i don’t want my bag to fall in the water, okay?!” taking hold of your hand, rafe caught a glimpse of your nails, the french tip design looking oddly familar. you squeezed his palm, stepping onto the deck with a sigh. topper and chanel had already made their way inside the cabin area, both of them laughing as they slid the door shut, leaving you and rafe all by yourselves. it was moments like these that made you wish you could be anywhere else.

rafe scanned your outfit, his eyes lingering on your cleavage before you turned around, annoyed. “i guess it’s a good thing topper didn’t mention i’d be spending majority of my night with you. ‘cause i wouldn’t have came.” you snatched your purse back, your heels clicking against the deck as you sat on one of the cushioned chairs near the lounging area. rafe grabbed his cooler, deciding to entertain your antics since all you two had was time. “mmm, i don’t know about that. apart of me thinks you like arguing with me. i know i do.” you scoffed, a bittersweet smile gracing your lips.

“yeah? i bet. female attention seems to be something you lack.” rafe laughed, taking a seat next to you. “oh, i can guarantee you that’s not the case.” he scooted closer, unscrewing the cap from his beer. yeah, right. you knew all about rafe’s inability to hold onto a relationship, rumors of his emotional unavailability spreading around the island like wildfire. “no? i’m sorry, i just assumed since, you know.. you’re a full time asshole.” rafe put his beer down, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he swallowed thickly. “only with you, i am.”

you laughed, finally meeting his gaze. he was a lot closer than you thought, his cologne filling your senses as your eyes flickered down to his lips for a second. “so i’m special then?” you had a faux innocent look in your eyes as you blinked up at him, the sight making his jaw clench. “no,” he smiled, leaning in, “but i can be nice. i can be real nice.” the insinuation made your cheeks heat as his face was just mere inches away from your own. tilting your head, you flashed him a sweet smile before shoving him in the chest.

“that’s never going to happen.” rafe acted like you didn’t have any effect on him, but inside? he was fighting every urge to pick you up and take you back to tanneyhill. he couldn’t help but feel like he knew you more than you let on, your demeanor reminding him of a certain someone. “can i ask why?” he watched as you grabbed his beer, your lipgloss smudging around the rim as you took a swig. “why i don’t like you, or why i won’t let you fuck me?” rafe leaned back in his chair, his thighs spreading as he crossed his arms over his chest.

well you definitely had a way with words..

rafe took the time to get a really good look at you. he had a feeling about you that he couldn’t quite put his finger on, the familiarity driving him crazy. he was determined to figure you out. “both.” he answered, taking his beer back from you. slipping your heels off, you brought your feet up and got comfortable in your spot next to rafe. “well i only realized i didn’t like you when i found out you had been talking about me first. so, really, i should be asking you why you don’t like me.”

rafe blinked. all this time he thought that you felt the way you did just because. “how come you never asked me then?” you stayed silent for a few moments before shrugging. “everyone has always made their assumptions about me. about my parents, about my life.. but no one really knows me, or what really goes on in my home. i just let people think whatever they want.” rafe’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “what do you mean?” at his words, you realized you may have said too much.

putting your defense back up, you backed away from him slightly before you scoffed. “you’re the last person i’d ever confide in, rafe.” the man next to you immediately recognized what you did, having veered away from being vulnerable a countless amount of times himself. rafe couldn’t help but keep digging. “let’s go tit for tat, then. you tell me something, anything you want, and i’ll say something in return. ‘that way it’s an even exchange.” apart of you hated him for making this so easy.

“i’m not doing that with you.” your voice sounded different. it lacked that usual bite and now rafe felt bad for opening his mouth in the first place. before the awkward tension could settle over you two again, you got up with your phone in your hand. “where are you going?” rafe watched as you slid the door open to the cabin area. “inside. i need to make a phone call.” you lied, walking past chanel and topper who were aggressively making out on the couch in the corner.

locking the small bathroom door behind you, you sighed, taking a moment to let go of a breath you didn’t know you were holding. what even was that out there? unlocking your phone, you sent chanel a text that you wanted to leave even though the chances of her seeing it was extremely slim. you stalled, deciding to freshen up your makeup as you waited for this so-called ‘date’ to end already. you were reapplying your lip gloss when your phone went off, making you mutter a ‘thank god’. instead of the notification being a message back from your best friend who was currently getting her face sucked off, it was from tumblr instead.

[9:14 PM] countryclub: what are you doing right now? i could use someone to talk to rn ngl

you looked up from your screen and stared into your reflection. this message came at just the right time.

[9:15 PM] brattydiaries: that makes two of us. i’m not with the sweet talk rn though, but i could use a distraction right now for sure..

[9:16 PM] countryclub: define ‘sweet talk’ cause i had every intention of asking you for some sexy pics and maybe a phone call if you’re down with that?

you refrained from laughing at his text, his bluntness throwing you for a loop. you couldn’t deny the giddy feeling you had in your tummy when you thought about hearing his voice. biting your lip nervously, you pulled the neckline of your dress down, exposing the lace of your bra before snapping a few pictures.

[9:19 PM] brattydiaries: 3 attachments

[9:20 PM] brattydiaries: here’s the first half of your request. make me wet and just maybe i’ll accept the call..

rafe was outside on the deck looking over his shoulder every two seconds to make sure you weren’t coming back in time to see the explicit photos currently illuminating his screen. he cursed under his breath, his eyes raking over the soft swells of your breasts. you were so fucking perfect, he couldn’t believe you were so close yet so far.

[9:22 PM] countryclub: fuckk you’re unreal.

[9:22 PM] countryclub: i hate that i’m wrapped up with something right now, otherwise i’d be sending you paragraphs about how pretty your tits look for me.

you sighed in defeat, making a mental note to send him a text once you were finally in the comfort of your own bed. with you still in the bathroom, rafe took his time examining the photos, his eyes widening slightly as he zoomed in on the dainty diamond pendant of your necklace, the background looking like something he has seen before.

[9:25 PM] brattydiaries: aww, too bad.

just then, chanel knocked on the bathroom door, her hair looking slightly out of place once you opened it. “i just saw your text. you ready to go?” you nodded, adjusting your dress before stepping out. “sorry to cock block you, i just had a really weird moment with rafe.” you explained, tossing your phone back in your purse. chanel waved you off before interlocking her arm with yours. “don’t even worry about it, we’re going back to his place, anyways.” she reassured you.

topper was already outside on the deck once you two made your way out of the cabin. glancing at rafe, you quickly looked away once you saw that he was already staring at you. “well, thanks for letting us use the druthers.” chanel smiled, in which rafe just shook his head. “ah, don’t even worry about it,” he held your stare, “..i had a good time.” blinking away from him, rafe’s eyes caught onto your cleavage once again, except this time; a sparkle from right above your neckline took him out of his reverie.

that necklace..

before he could piece anything together, you were moving with chanel, not sparing rafe another look as you were getting back onto the dock. the car ride back to your place was deadly silent. all except for the music topper had playing in the background. by the time you had gotten home and showered, you felt your world come to a stand still when your phone started ringing, an unsaved number with kildare island’s area code showing up at the top.

accepting the call, you held up the receiver to your ear with a shaky hand before speaking.

“hello?”

“..you sound pretty.”

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[gay-dorito-dust]

How’d they react to finding you sleeping anywhere but the bed…

Dick: sharing the dog bed with Hayley (fail):

At first he thought something was wrong when he didn’t hear you or Hayley greet him home and soon began to search the spy for you both.

So the moment he finds you fast asleep on Hayley’s dog bed with Hayley tucked closely into your chest, head resting underneath your chin. His heart immeditly melted and his phone was out and taking photos nearly every 0.5 seconds, only until he was forced to stop due to how much storage they took up but he didn’t regret it.

Not one bit. He even has one printed out that he kept on him to look at whenever he felt as though he needed to be reminded of how he had waiting back home for him.

You both were effortlessly cute to Dick, he couldn’t help it but feel a little left out as he then tries to join you in the dog bed, only to almost ends up capsizing the three of you and waking both you and Hayley, who began licking his face as her tail smacks you in the arm repeatedly.

‘What were you trying to do?’ You asked Dick, sitting up.

Dick pouted. ‘Join in the fun.’

‘We were sleeping in a dog bed, how’s that fun.’ You said, not bothering to add the fact that you had accidentally fell asleep on Hayley’s dog bed because you were waiting up for him but failed.

‘Fun to me is wherever you and Hayley are.’ Dick answered truthfully.

You smiled as you kissed his cheek. ‘You’re such a dork, you know that right.’ You told him.

‘Yes. And?’ He says cheekily, more than happy to be home with his little family.

Bruce: in the Batmobile:

Alfred told him where you were and that you best be moved to a more comfortable place then the passenger seat of the Batmobile.

How you got in there was a mystery to both men but what was more impressive was how you could possibly sleep against those hard rich leather seats in the first place.

Bruce couldn’t blow but let out a little chuckle when he opened the side door, just to see you with your face half pressed against the seats before jolting yourself awake.

‘Wha- I didn’t do nothing officer it was the dog.’ You said groggily as you tried to blink the sleep from your eyes as they tried to bring reality into focus.

‘Have a good nap did we?’ Bruce asks, finding some amusement in your half asleep nonsense.

‘Why, who’s asking?’ You replied.

‘Your consciousness.’ Bruce joked sarcastically. ‘Come on let’s get you to bed before you develop a-‘

‘Ow my neck.’ You groaned as you held a hand to your neck the moment you tried to move it.

‘-Crooked neck.’ Bruce sighs as he offers you a hand. ‘Come on, let’s go find Alfred so that we can alleviate you of this pain.’ You pouted as you grabbed onto his hand and letting him pull you out of the Batmobile. ‘Alfred is going to scold me isn’t he?’ You asked. ‘Yes, I’m afraid so.’ Bruce answered as he helps guide you out of the Batcave.

Alfred’s scoldings were nothing to scoff at, and Bruce would know as he’s been on the receiving end of a few before in the past. After all getting scolded by Alfred was enough to set a stubborn man straight.

‘Damn.’ You muttered.

Damian: in the barn, on top of Goliath:

He didn’t have to look far, he knew you’d be in the barn but what he wasn’t expecting was for you to be fast asleep on top of his demonic dragon bat, whom had draped a protective wing over you as though it were swaddling you in an extremely warm blanket.

He had told you about the story of how he met Goliath and took him home on more then one occasion, as it was secretly his favourite story because it helped him with his own internal struggles on who he should be, and also how his past doesn’t define him, but what he chooses to do in the future does.

So seeing you cuddled up to Goliath without an ounce of care made him smile a little to himself at the prospect of you accepting him for who he was truly, rather than believe what other people viewed him as. You stood out of the crowd rather than follow it and Damian couldn’t be more grateful for you sticking by him, even through the extremely tough times where even he thought he went too far with his outbursts towards you.

‘Tt. Idiot.’ He says affectionately as he walks further into the barn, stopping along the way to pet BatCow and Jerry the Turkey. ‘Aren’t they?’ He asks both animals who only blinked at him as they mindlessly chewed on their food. Damian hums. ‘You’re right, they may be an idiot but they’re still my idiot at the end of the day.’

Damian ends up falling asleep against BatCow’s side as Jerry the Turkey made himself comfortable on his lap.

Jason: kitchen counter:

Him and Roy have a bet on where Jason would find you asleep next.

It had happened way too often for them that they’d hates themselves forever for not making a game out of it at any point in their lives.

This time Roy betted that you’d fall asleep on the kitchen counter, whereas Jason believes you’ll fall asleep against the window sill.

So when Jason got back home late one night after patrol, he immeditly went to look for you at the window sill. Nothing. ‘Damn it Roy.’ He cursed under his breath as he then walked into the kitchen, praying that he wouldn’t have to tell his friend that he won the bet for the eighth consecutive time.

Only for you to be fast asleep on the fucking kitchen counter, just as Roy predicted you would. Jason felt as though his friend was cheating somehow because it didn’t make sense for him to have correctly predicted where you’d be found sleeping as often as he did. Unfortunately for Jason, he couldn’t back up his claim as to why he thought Roy cheated, for there wasn’t any substantial evidence to prove that Roy was cheating.

And so with a heavy heart, Jason walked over and pressed a kiss to your forehead before pulling out his phone to text Roy that he has won…again, and pocketing his phone as he carried you off to your shared room. ‘I love you chipmunk but you’ve got to start sleeping in places where I’ll surefire win the bet against Roy next time okay?’ He says against your head, kissing it.

‘Okay. I’ll try.’ You murmured.

‘That’s my baby.’ Jason said as he tucked you into bed before following suit.

The next day, Roy was smirking like a Cheshire Cat as he talked about his eighth consecutive victory, whereas Jason looked about ready to strangle the next person who looked at him funny.

[dilf-docs]

Light Up My Life (So Blind I Can't See)

pedro pascal x younger fem!reader

summary: pedro pascal in cannes breaks the internet, only rivaled by the mystery figure next to him at the airport. oh, that's you. oh. well, that wasn't part of the plan. oops.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap, smut, begging kink, lwk praise kink, choking, fingering, creampie, hurt/comfort, fluff, cannes!pedro (yes that's a warning)

word count: 5,984 words

side note: not to be that bitch but i think pedro in cannes 2025 will be my roman empire. shot out to secret dating, love that shit!!!! based on this request by my lovely fren :)

A few days ago, you had been watching a movie marathon in the comfort of your home.

"I can't believe it, you said you liked it!"

"I never said that. I said it looked interesting" he yawns. You narrow your eyes. "Sleep deprivation" he clarifies, as if reading your mind. "But, you chose it"

"Yes, because you let me" you're quick to counter.

"Yes, because we always do what you want"

Even in the distance, he finds ways to tease you.

"Not true. If it was, I would be there, with you. You know I love Marvel"

He laughs. "It's rare to hear that nowadays, less sounding so sure. You're an endangered species, baby"

You gasp. "I'm not that much of a fan"

"Not a lot of people watch a six hour livestream of chairs"

"Five" you correct, "and I did just to see if you'd show up!"

As if, gut feeling aside, he hadn't told you before.

"Alright, my bad. Five. Still, my point stands"

"So does mine. If Coco is there, why can't I be?"

"Do you happen to know hairstyling? I thought your thing was marketing"

"Oh, shut up"

Stanley Tucci briefly shows up on screen. Not that you already know, given the amount of times you've watched it.

"Are you sure it doesn't bother you?" he asks. Could refer to a lot of things.

It's the crack of dawn.

"It's the only time you can give me" you answer instead.

He makes a little pout, making you giggle. The movie keeps playing in your laptop.

"I'm sorry you have to meet me like this"

"Please, stop" at his bad joke. "The lack of sleep is showing"

He just laughs. "I can't wait for you to come"

(Texted you places of London you wouldn't be able to visit. It's just a stopover, you said, yet he insisted on sending links of London's best attractions for tourists)

"I know" you admit, softer. "Me either"

You yawn. So much for a movie you aren't watching.

"Won't it be too tiring?"

Your amazing boyfriend, ever so caring.

"Pedrito" he sighs at his name on your lips, little and a warning. "I'll be fine. Besides, I already dowloaded the movie's soundtrack to keep me company"

Pedro rolls his eyes. "You really enjoy this movie, don't you?"

You take a brief glimpse at the forgotten movie, playing on your shared screen, then back at his face.

A bit tired, eye bags more pronounced. The sleep thing was true. Still, he was the same in many other ways. His broad frame, sharp jawline, grey hair now dyed yet stubborn enough to show in some edges and over his face, in a beard that would scratch against your face when he kissed you, because he liked being close. Too close. You can still smell him, even if he hasn't been in your apartment for over a month now. As if his smell, him being intoxicantingly close, had impregnated on your skin. Another part of his to be yours.

"It's Madonna" like that's enough of a reason.

It shouldn't be this distracting. Singing Who's That Girl after arriving in France isn't a special thing, but to you, lyrics blasting through your airbuds that Pedro hates except when you offer a song and he listens, because he always listens, holds something sacred the moment your feet stretch and you're back on land again, yet people speak French instead of English and time has warped your sense of reality again.

Pedro had checked on you all the time. That was distracting. Some texts during the flight, insisting on buying Wi-Fi on the plane as if he was a millennial who couldn't survive without internet, saying what he couldn't live without was writing to you. That's a lie. You caught him on TikTok sometimes. Over his shoulder, because you couldn't sit together. Liar, you sent. You know he saw it by the way his shoulders wiggled and he covered his mouth to stiffle a giggle over the silence in the cabin. Nevertheless, he continued his little check-ups on you, as if you were a kid.

(Him: in a way, you are. You: Pedro, I'm almost thirty. Him: That's as ambiguous as me coming to Cannes. You: Your fans already suspect. Him: They're smart. You: They are. Him: Listening to the soundtrack? You: Tenth round. Him: You're insane. Insufferable too. You: It's only about forty minutes. This is a seven hour flight. Besides, you love me. Him: I do. Now stop peeking over my shoulder. You: Stop watching TikToks then, you addict!)

Somehow, lost in the music and happy feet struting towards movies, bright sun and the close yet faraway sea, you take too many of those. That wasn't the plan. Don't sit together, don't look in his direction. Over and over again. Precautions. To you, rules. Memorized them. It's not every day you board a plane, but the others are similar, in a way. It was a small price to pay for dating him.

Sometimes you mind.

(You: I miss my personal pillow. Him: I ain't got a belly anymore. You: I'm aware. I was talking about other huge things. Your biceps. HUGE. The one's Julie will show to the world in a day. Those HUGE biceps. I want to bite them. Him: You're a freak. You: Blame Kevin Feige. Him: Not the guy who lost 25 pounds?)

Sometimes you don't.

(You: Come to think of it, you do snore a bit. Him: But I thought you missed me? You break my heart, y/n)

Bump.

The defeaning sound. Coco and his bodyguard glance. But Pedro? he looks. At you.

The internet has rules too. They're both, funnily, f-rules: never forgive, never forget.

His expression is of surprise. They don't forget. His wide eyes. No, that's beyond a surprised face. That's a knowing face. They don't forgive. The subtle difference. He knows you.

Seconds, probably. He goes back to stoic mode. You hear his voice as he chats with Coco. His voice is tight, barely noticeable to anyone but you; know him better than you know yourself. But not today, when he's a supposed stranger and you're another passenger of this plane. An insignificant dot in a crowd. You walk further and avoid his gaze, pretending to search for imaginary stains in your passport, as if you hadn't make the worst mistake of your life.

Days ago, sitting in your bed, you were just another light in the vast Californian sea of houses and salt air. Now, everyone knows he's your something.

Makes sense.

The slip-ups on interviews, his comments about Materialists, his behavior on that interview with Dakota, the mysterious silhoutte that ressembled a woman but was always too blurry and far yet close to identify.

Unrecognizable.

Because you were a nobody. Made a line to get coffee, nothing about you guaranteeing any special treatment. Worked in a publicity agency from Mondays to Fridays, Saturdays if someone called in sick. Took your dog, who complained when the LA sun hit his tiny paws too much, out on walks: Toto, the little cairn terrier who was now under the care of your brother and his girlfriend because of your trip. Was photographed because you wanted and not because they had to, the hidden cameras capturing every move of yours.

That was the privilege of anonymity.

But that luck, like everything else in the world, seemed to have run out.

Now you sit on the hotel room, phone blowing up with messages, mentions, and emails. Funny thing is, despite already having your Instagram account leaked, you were still a ghost. A who?. Just a face Pedro had looked too much for it to be a simple passerby.

You sniffle as Coco brushes your hair, more to calm you than to fix it for the event.

You look through the mirror, not at you, but at the bag dangling from it, and sniffle again. The dress hangs on the closet as Coco gives you a sympathetic look and Lux squeezes your shoulder gently.

"Maybe we can still work it out" you manage to choke up, hoarse from useless crying. So hopeful, as Pedro would say.

The original plan, before the little "bump" on the road, was to attend Cannes while disguised, which meant sneaking as a guest, skipping the whole red carpet.

But now people knew who you were. Or how you looked, at least.

"Not to be a killjoy, but even if the French press is oblivious, I'm sure the internet will catch up as soon as the live stream for Eddington's red carpet starts broadcasting" Lux comments.

"They don't know your name, yet I'm sure they've already memorized your face. You're all over my Instagram" Coco adds, smiling sadly. "Your face is not to be forgotten"

You smile weakly, still feeling bad.

"I don't know what to do" you sniffle, looking back at the dress, one your budget could've bought but leave you on a tightrope for the rest of the month. To your boyfriend, it was barely a tickle on his finances. He insisted on buying it after your bright, unable to hide, smile. Wear it on a special day, and that is today.

Was.

"I'm sure we can come up with something" Lux offers.

"Come with me"

The three of your turn around. You'd recognize that voice even if you were deaf.

"¿Te volviste loco?" Lux asks, perplexed. (have you gone crazy?)

"Un poco" he replies in a Spanish that needs to be practiced a tad bit more, "por ella, sí" (a bit, yes. for her)

"What's going on?" you ask, wiping your tears.

Pedro kneels down in front of you, already dressed in an all black suit. If you weren't on the verge of sobbing for the umpteenth time, you'd tear that suit in two.

"You look good" you sniffle.

He smiles, softly. "I know"

"I love those glasses. They're my favorites"

He smiles again, adjusting them. "I know"

"Se acabó el tiempo, tortolitos" Lux jokes. (time's up, lovebirds)

"Yeah. Are we going to ignore the elephant in the room?" Coco asks, eyes widened in exasperation.

"I'm taking her with me"

"To the red carpet?" his sister asks, surprised.

"No, to fucking Wendy's. Of course, Lux. I'm taking her to the red carpet" he then gives his sister a glance. "You look gorgeous, by the way"

"I know" she flips her hair.

"Yeah, she's beautiful and so are you" Coco interrupts, then points to you. "Is that how you plan on solving this?"

Pedro nods, solemly.

"Listen, it's just a matter of hours before people connect the dots. They already have your Instagram and name. What's next? Your job, your dog?"

You gasp. "I have a whole dump of Toto on my feed!"

"Your account is private though" Lux drops.

"Still!" you panic. "What do I do?"

"Come with me" Pedro insists. "Harm's already done. What would change if we walked down a piece of red clothing?"

"Not even Rooney Mara will walk along Joaquin"

"So? We're not them" he kneels in front of your face again. Wipes a stray tear and grabs your hand. Squeezes it, like fresh oranges for a juice, because he knows you like the gesture. Need it. "And Emma is taking her husband, so"

You only sigh, unconvinced.

"Come with me" he repeats again, like a mantra. Or a prayer. Maybe hoping you'd accept.

"And let the whole world know?"

"Precisely" he smiles, cheeky. "They know some things already. We're just advancing the process for them"

Coco sighs. "At the speed of a bullet train"

"Whatever" Pedro drops. Then, looks at you. "We like it fast, don't we, baby?"

You can only blush in response.

"She'll come with me, then. We'll ride in the car behind" Ullrich sentences.

"No" his grip on your arm is strong but not brusing. Firm, as his position. He gives you a little tug, as to pull you in. Needless to say, you felt like a ragdoll. "She'll come with me"

Fighting Pedro was like trying to tame a tide.

In the end, somehow, he'd managed to rope you into the chaos of the red carpet, black limusines and flashing cameras and inside his car.

You weren't sure. Back in school, you weren't disliked or bullied, but it's not like you were popular either. You had friends, but would rather be alone at times, be it at the library or just sketching at a lonely bench in the park. There was something precious in the silence most people didn't appreciate; you did.

So, to say you where overwhelmed at the bright lights and constant yelling for Pedro was an understatement.

But, if your boyfriend dressed in an all black suit didn't scream Look at me! energy enough, there was you.

It was quick. Everything seemed to be so as of late. The cameras and press, waiting fans, yelled for Pedro, only to then find out he wasn't only here with his sister, but another woman. The airport woman. A loud point of a finger and the whole world knows you're back.

That he isn't your something. No, Pedro is more.

He's your fucking partner.

And it's so obvious, by the way he looks at you fondly. It different from his sister. This isn't that type of unconditional supporting love, but a stronger one. Consuming. One that speaks of devotion. He looks at you. Admires you. Like a painting. As if you had all the answers in the world.

You say hi to his co-stars, maybe a bit too excited to greet Austin Butler. Pedro isn't happy but he's not putting a jealous fit for the cameras. Not when he's busy throwing charming smiles and flexing that body he's worked so hard for under the summer sun.

The world talks. It's all over the news. Your smile, growing only wider when Pedro is near you, hand on the small of your back, right where the dress leaves inviting skin for the rest to see. He introduces you to anyone who wants to listen, always talking, because he's such a yapper. A loud laugher too, and even if it's not with you, you laugh with him, too contagious for you to question it. Posing with the rest of the cast as you wait by the sidelines, taking some pictures for yourself. You see the bee, trying to meddle, imposing and nosy, and feel a little sorry for it, despite Emma's face and the guys' laugh. In a way, you see yourself in the poor insect: taking space where it shouldn't, captured under the lights.

Comments are deceiving, yet there's a movie playing and then an awkward, way too long, standing ovation for you to care. You do. But you try not to, rather focusing on the event and feeling proud of Pedro. You clap and do a little too loud sound that vagely resembles a cheer. Flustered, you find out later on that the video made it out to Twitter. Strangely, even if your sudden appearance in Pedro's life, or rather public life, is well received under that post. Maybe life wasn't so cruel.

"You're not wearing that"

Life is cruel.

"Why not? You knew it beforehand. Said it was your favorite"

"I changed my mind. It's too revealing"

"What are you? Seventy?"

"The age gap is the other way around, grandpa"

And then the fucker flexes his arms. Worst, not even on purpose. Putting on glasses and a pink soft sweater shouldn't be this hot.

"Don't worry, baby. Don't break a sweat. I'll take the grandma sweater off when we get there"

Your cheeks heat up. "That was on purpose"

He offers a cheeky grin.

"Maybe"

Today is the photocall, and if yesterday's outfit put you in your knees, this one sends you straight to the ground. Full force. In a tank top and black pants paired with spiky shoes, his purpose was to serve and to kill you.

He goes again for the round of photos and such, you trailing behind like a lost puppy. Everyone assumes, yet no one asks.

She, the airport woman, now y/n.

(Can't say it out loud either. Not even you, yet, as if the knowing smiles and stolen not so subtle glances hadn't given you away)

You enjoyed this limbo. Of belonging not more inside closed doors and ambiguous coincidences, but on tabloids and loud shutters of camera. You liked the attention but not the label. It was good to see them scrambling, begging for details. Your social media had filled with requests, and even at times, your phone crashed.

You sat in a corner, watching the press. A few clicks here and there, Pedro drinking water and making it sexy (the size difference of his hand and the tiny bottle? You need to be locked up), questions, some about the movie, others about working with Ari Aster and then, awkward ones Pedro handled with grace. He spoke with such reverence, care and thoughtfulness, you can't help but feel your legs weak. You knew he was smart, well read and opinionated, but hearing him was another thing. So lost in this, you don't hear the next question.

"I know no one else is brave enough to ask" the reporter laughs nervously, "but I need to know"

Pedro senses immediately. When he glances briefly at you, hidden on a corner, you know this is about you.

"I don't think you do" he laughs, but there's a certain edge on his tone.

"It's fine if you don't want to answer, but me and everyone else on this room, hell, world!, wants to know who the woman at the airport is"

Before he adds about your quiet but strong presence on both days, Pedro cuts in:

"Is that how you call my girlfriend?"

The uproar is so loud, even Joaquin, who seemed to be on a separate train of thought, jumps on his seat. More questions follow, ones he doesn't answer. Out of boredom or to keep. Some things are meant to be like this.

Tabloids go crazy with the news. You haven't even left the place and phone blows up even more. It will explode at this point. Worse, it's only been minutes. An hour later, it's still as bad. Well, bad is a way of saying it: what you mean is nosy press and the promise of a quiet vacation ruined.

"I don't think it'll ever be quiet again"

You sigh softly, leaning on the door of the car taking you to the hotel.

"It's an opportunity" you reply just to feel the silence.

"Ever the marketer, you bussiness woman"

Even then, he manages to rob from you a faint smile.

At least they don't know where you're staying. That would be awful. You can't imagine having troubles to get out of a car.

"Something's in your mind" as your heels click against cold marble floors.

A shit ton.

You. The fast changes. Impending. Privacy gone. Scrapes of your life out in the open for the world to see. Your relationship and this new stage you're in.

Him. His warm eyes. Firm hand to secure you. Those circles on your back that calmed you down. It's a quiet I love you. Reassurance you don't say but need. I'm here. Pedro won't let you take the fall alone.

But, also, him.

With his body that had been driving you wild. Intoxicating cologne. A small cut abov his beard, still fresh. Thick glasses. Long legs. Strong arms. His charisma. Confidence. A killer smile. Warm eyes. Kind. He laughed too much and filled the gap of your stolen breaths, waiting.

"Want me to tell you?"

Smug grin you could wipe off his face.

"I'm all ears"

He too has noticed you. Short glances. Parted lips. So plump he can still taste them. The lipstick inside his cheek, over his white pristine smile if he hadn't licked it off. A part of you in him. Another. Your body, always so perfect, but in that dress he bought? He steals a look now. He definitely pictured you in it, yet this is better. How you own it. The cameras aren't flashing your way, but their eyes trail your every move. You had that in you: a beauty that wasn't loud, but made sure to be noticed. Like the air: not seen, just felt. Sometimes light, others heavy. He feels light-headed. Today you chose another set he bought you. In away, Pedro feels as if he owns you. But a tender belonging, of soul to soul, possessive, yet not as an object; he was raised right. Although, after your giggles with Austin...

"Pedro..." all sweet voice. He likes his name a lot. More if it's from you.

Your silence is both punishing and teasing.

"Tell me what you want" he insists.

"You know me" you play coy.

"I wanna hear it" desperate.

You cave in. Then, lean. His hairs raise in a prickly trepidation.

"They know too much" he feels your pressure, fears. But also, he feels your hot breath and short gasps, as if you can't hold this any longer.

"I'm sorry"

You shake your head with parted lips and hooded eyes, blood rushing to your cheeks.

"Show me something only I'll know"

Pedro's control shatteres at your words, a low, animalistic growl rumbling up from his chest.

"You're gonna make me fuck you in here" he spills the lewd confession.

"You're going to get us kicked out of this hotel"

"Can I at least kiss you on the elevator?" he pleads. Puppy sad brown eyes and all.

"Maybe"

In an instant, he takes your wrist in his grip, pulling you stumbling to the dinging door.

"Be patient" you mumble as his lips ghost over your neck. You glance at the numbers.

"We're on the thirty-two floor"

"Patience is a virtue"

"I don't care"

As soon as the door opens, he strides out with desperate, urgent steps.

"This isn't our floor"

"Fuck!"

The short time from the twenty-four to your actual floor felt interminable, every second stretching into an eternity as the weight of your shared desire hung heavy in the air.

"Jesus" you mutter.

"That good or bad?" he asks, mouth busy and voice sort of muffled against the flush skin of your neck.

"Good" you manage to mumble, hands on his hair.

Alright, you miss the messy curls but you can see them insist on the top of his hair, now starting to get sweaty, Coco's work going to waste.

"Then let's give them more to talk"

As soon as you crossed the hallway, Pedro kicks the door shut behind both of you. He's got your back pressed against it, roughly, as if he couldn't wait a bit longer, mouth taking yours in a hungry kiss.

His hands roam your body, gripping, squeezing, tugging at any little space of honeyed skin he can, taking off the buttons with a feverish desperation. You swear one of them pops, if your ears don't deceive you.

"You bought that dress. I liked it"

He rolls his eyes. "I can buy you a new one. A whole closet"

"But I liked this one" you pout.

He kisses your pouty lips. "Then I shall move the earth to get the same one again for you. Now... where were we?"

He's back to kissing you roughly, and soon, your brain is too fuzzy and lost in the force of his lips on yours, that the cameras and late interview are soon forgotten in the back of your mind.

"I'm going to ruin you" he says against your mouth, voice ragged with lust. You let out a little moan as you squirm under his insistent touch. "So hard, so deep, you won't forget who you belong to. Never"

You should feel threatened. Scared, even. But no, down there? You're a wet mess.

The dress falls to the floor with a soft thud. At least he didn't rip it.

"No bra, baby?" he asks, voice thick. You swallow harshly and nod. "Bad girl. Such'a tease"

His mouth drops then to your chest, lips kissing and teeth grazing the soft swell of your breasts. His tongue runs cold through a shiver, moving to your nipples, taking the hardened bud into his mouth and sucking hard. You feel his hands then over the rosy flesh, grabbing what he can, which, given the size of his hands, it's a lot.

"All this for me?"

You nod, lost in the grunts, sweat, his mouth and touch.

"That's right. Mine. You're mine, baby. Just mine. Say it. Tell me you are"

"Yes!" you gasp. "I'm yours, Pedro. All yours. Only yours"

He groans into your mouth as your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer. There's too a low sound coming from his throat, probably an approval sound of some sorts. His hands now slide down to your hips, gripping the free skin until he lifts you up. It's always like this. Now, you wrap your legs around his waist, tiny ankles locking at the small of his broad back.

Finally, he takes you to the bed in the middle of the room, all while never breaking the kiss or stopping his greedy hands from touching you. You whine and squirm, weak under his spell.

"So antsy" he softly says.

"I think you meant your hands"

With a little laugh, he lays you down on the bed, body hovering over you, pinning you to the mattress. Before, he'd take his time to let go of the shirt, undressing slowly and almost reluctantly. Now, he takes no time in stripping off his shirt, revealing the toned body under an already revealing shirt. You love Pedro, in all of his forms and shapes, but weren't you incredibly turned on like a horny teenager for this new body? Maybe it was his new energy, how it oozed off of him in the form of flexing biceps, slim figure, toned chest and stomach and disarming smile. He was a menace and knew it, by the smirk visible even through the soft moonlight filtering through the window.

"We should've turned the lights"

"I like you like this" needy fingers now turn tender as he traces soft hearts on your face, the rough skin brushing your soft flushed own.

"At least the nightstand one. It's yellow"

"No"

He leans down to claim your mouth again, or just shut you up. It's helpful, anyway, as he kisses you until you're breathless, lips swollen and tingling.

"Someone's insatiable today" you croak out.

"For you? Always" he replies, fingers finding the damp patch in your panties, rubbing over it, thick fingers pressing against your clothed pussy. "It's never enough, baby"

He lets out a little grunt.

"Fuck, you're so wet" voice rough with lust and surprise. "Julie's outfit turned you on that much?"

"Even the hideous ones did" you whimper. "Imagine this one"

"I chose some of those, you know" he sounds a bit offended.

"Whatever. I'm happy with this Cannes run. I'll send some flowers or take her to lunch"

"So caring" he mocks.

"For dressing my man like a complete eye candy? Hell, yes"

"No one uses that term nowadays" Pedro interjects.

"Here you go again. You're my biggest hater. Shut up and just-"

You turn desperate at the pressure his fingers apply on your clothed slit. He smirks at that, eyes dark.

"You want this, don't you? You want me inside, filling you, stretching you around my cock?"

"Yes" you whimper again.

"Say it" he demands.

Never would you beg for something, but goddamn, didn't this man reduce you to a puddle of moans and pleasure? Your common sense, no, normal functioning, basic even, flew out of the window with just a kiss.

"I need you"

His fingers press even deeper, and the pulsing light pain sensation drives you wild, making you whimper again.

"Pedro-" you whine, hips rocking up against his hand, seeking more of that delicious friction.

He clicks his tongue. "Manners, baby"

You squirm, violently and desperate. He really was going to make you beg for it.

"Please, Pedro"

"That better" fingers slightly more insistent. "One last time?"

Fuck dignity, man.

"Please, Pedro. I need you. I need you so badly" you choke out.

He grins like a schoolboy, eyes dark. "Good girl"

He rewards you by making a quick work of your panties, practically tearing them off and tossing them aside. His fingers then were on your bare skin, drumming on sensitive thighs.

"Don't tease" you plead through gritted teeth.

"So impatient" he tsks. "Want it now, baby?"

You nod, feverish.

"Because you asked"

"Because we always do what I want" you choke.

His eyes shine dark. "Easy, brat"

He strokes through the slick folds of your, pussy, pushing two long, thick fingers deep inside you, curling them just right, hitting that well known spot that made you see stars.

"So tight" his voice comes out strained. "So fucking tight and hot and perfect"

Pedro pumps his fingers in and out, thumb rubbing tight circles over your clit. His mouth drops to your breast again, suckling hard, biting just on the edge and then licking to soothe the sting. You feel heat building, the pressure coiling tighter and tighter in your core. Your hands scrabble at his back, nails digging into his skin, as to urge him.

And then he pulls away, leaving you empty and aching. You whimper at the loss, making him chuckle a bit.

"Calm down, baby. I ain't going anywhere"

He starts undressing what's left of his clothes, and if you liked the outfit, him naked takes the win. His cock springs free, long and hard, the thick head already glistening.

"See?"

He settles himself between your thighs, the thick length of his cock nudging against your slick folds. He looks down at you, eyes intense under the moonlight. His large, calloused hands slid under your hips, gripping them hard enough to leave bruises.

If spilling it in the interview wasn't enough, he was going to mark you, claim you, make you his.

"I'm going to fuck you now" Pedro announces, voice low with lust. "I'm going to fuck you hard and deep, just like you need. Like we both do"

With that, he thrust forward, pushing past your entrance. You gasp at the intrusion, feeling your pussy stretch around him, accommodating his size. It always happens; he's just big like that. He pauses, letting you adjust to the stretch, before pushing forward again, sinking deeper inside.

So thoughtful.

"Fuck, you're so tight " he said through gritted teeth. "So fucking tight and hot and perfect. You feel incredible, y/n"

He starts to move then, pulling out slowly before thrusting back in. Each push brings him deeper, until he was buried to the hilt inside. He sets a hard, fast pace, the bed creaking beneath with the force of his thrusts. The room filled with the sound of their mingled moans and gasps, sweat pooling like a second skin.

And if things couldn't get any better...

One hand came up to your throat, long fingers wrapping around it. He didn't squeeze, not yet, just rested them there, feeling the flutter of your pulse.

"Nervous?" his thumb brushes over your racing heartbeat, a teasing promise of what was to come. "C'mon. Don't get shy on me, baby. I know you like that"

(You did. He was new to this, mainly going off some spaking and dirty talk. Now, he seemed to be into it, if not more, as you. It was always exciting when he did it, never telling you before. If you didn't want to, he stopped. You know he would, at least, because so far, you've never told him to)

You nod, walls clench around him.

"As much as you like feeling my cock stretching you open? Filling you up? You like knowing I'm the only man to be inside this perfect little cunt?"

"Yes" you gasp. "God, yes. No one else, but you, Pedro. Only you."

A wicked grin spreads across his face and he tightens his grip on your throat, just a little. Enough to make you feel it.

"That's right, baby. This cunt belong to me now. Your body. You. You belong to me"

He starts to thrust harder, faster, headboard slamming against the wall with each snap.

Pedro feels you starting to tighten around him, breath coming in short, sharp, desperate gasps.

He knew you were close.

He leans down then, his rough stubble rasping against the smooth skin of your neck as he growled in your ear.

"Be a good girl and come for me" he urges. "Let me feel this pretty pussy spasm around my cock. Feel it come undone on my dick"

His hips never slow, pounding into you with deep, powerful thrusts. The grip on your throat tightened just a touch more, fingers pressing into the soft flesh. Not enough to cut off your air, but enough to make you light-headed.

"I'm going to fill this cunt with my cum. I'm going to pump you so full of it, you'll be dripping for days"

You let out a choked moan at his filthy promise, back arching off the bed. He could feel her starting to convulse around him, her slick walls fluttering and clenching. He was so close too, his balls drawing up tight against his body as the pressure built.

"Come now. Let me feel you scream my name as I fill you up. Let the whole damn city know who you belong to"

With a final, brutal thrust, he buries himself to the hilt inside you. At the same time, his fingers tightened around your throat, squeezing just as your orgasm crashes over. You let out a strangled cry, body shaking and shuddering beneath him as you come apart.

"Fuck, y/n. Fuck"

With a load groan, he comes too, cock pulsing and jerking inside you as he pumps you full of his hot seed. Spurt after spurt, until he sees your stomach bloat lightly and you feel it sloshing inside you like the distant waves on the beach.

He collapses on top of you with a loud sigh, weight pressing you into the mattress, his cock still buried deep inside your fluttering heat; it's still dripping.

You both lay there for a long moment, chests heaving, bodies slick with sweat, as you catch your breaths. Finally, he lifted his head to look at you, his eyes soft.

"You're incredible" voice raw. "I can't believe you're mine"

You giggle, feeling his arms wrap around you, pulling you close as you snuggle against his neck. He can feel your soft, warm breath tickling on his skin. A sense of peace and contentment settles over him, and he sighs happily.

"Yours" and a quick tired sloppy kiss. "You drained me, thought"

"If you weren't such a tease..."

You playfully swat him, weakly.

"Shh, just relax" he murmurs, one hand stroking slowly up and down your back. "You did so good, baby. So fucking perfect. As always"

You can't helo but say: "And now the whole world knows it"

He captures your lips in a slow, deep kiss. It was different from the hungry, desperate kisses before. This one was tender, almost sweet. Full of a quiet, growing affection.

"It's okay" so quiet you would miss it. "I've got you, baby. And I'm not going anywhere"

You make a soft, contented lazy sound as you snuggle even closer, fingers playing with the short hairs at the nape of his neck. He feels your body starting to give up.

"Promise?"

He tightens his arms around you, holding you like he means it. You are the most precious thing in the world to him, but he doesn't want to tell you. He wants you to know. So he holds you tightly, like a vow. Something to keep. Something worth.

"Promise"

cr: divider @kodaswrld / gif: @a7estrellas / dts: @io12n

[littlelovelunette]

sevika with a shy!inexpierenced!succubus reader 🥹 i feel like they'd be so cute together!

A Virgin Succubus?

Sevika x Inexperienced!Succubus!Reader

Contains smut, strap, fingering, virginity loss of reader!

Please have mercy, I've never written succubus before...

When Sevika told you she wasn't scared of being charmed by you, and you weren't doing it on purpose and she was aware of that— you didn't want to believe her.

In a place like Zaun, people of your species barely survived, making them the victims of assault. But you knew Sevika would keep you safe, she vowed to afterall. She knew you were inexperienced and never meant harm with your powers.

So much so that you always wore a beret to keep your horns hidden, tail tucked away in the big leather coats you wore even during the warm weather, “You'll be fine,” she reassured and kissed your forehead whenever she saw you getting too vigilant.

“You've never once seduced someone?” Eventually, Sevika's curiosity got the best of her and she asked you when she was at Last Drop once. Surprisingly enough, she wasn't playing poker when the question was dropped, she was simply enjoying her alcohol.

“No, I just… I think it's wrong to let someone's lust control them,” you answered, “I'm pretty inexperienced— I'm sorry—”

“No, don't be,” Sevika placed a large hand on your thigh, “It's okay, I like virgins.”

Your cheeks glowed red and you hid your face behind the curtain of hair, “I'm— I'm… not very experienced in these things, it won't be fun with me, I swear,” you said but Sevika wasn't listening to a word of your denial.

“We'd only know if we slept together, no?” Sevika chuckled, wrapping her flesh arm around you and bringing you closer, you could smell the alcohol and smoke on her.

You smiled, nervously, “M-mhm…” you looked down at your legs, dreading Sevika finding out just how inexperienced you were. You'd not once even masterbate, too scared of putting your fingers in yourself because what if you got hurt in any way? How embarrassing would that be?

Now you were laid on the bed with your legs spread, scared of what Sevika would do to you. She did exaggerate how much it hurt for virgins that's why you were scared. You watched as Sevika took out something from a drawer full of silicone dicks.

It was a big bottle of lube, she smiled, “It'll make it easier,” she said, pouring a generous amount onto her hands before reaching your pussy with a pause to take a look at your face, silently asking for consent.

“Go ahead…” you whispered and then let out a shaky breath feeling her touch your sensitive parts. She didn't do much, just smeared the lube over your clit and hole.

“Ready?” She asked before she slowly sunk in a single, thick finger inside.

You gasped, “It's big…”

“It's one finger.” Sevika chuckled, slowly curling it, your hands instantly wrapped around her like a vice, scratching her back. Sevika bit back a hiss of pain— no, she liked it. “Someone's eager,” Sevika teased before adding a second finger, scissoring inside your pussy to stretch you out a little. Just enough for her strap.

“It feels weird,” you mumbled, your wetness squelching around her fingers as she worked.

“It'll start hurting soon,”

“Sevika!” You whined and then moaned feeling her curl her fingers at your g-spot, it felt good. A weird tingly feeling spread across your lower tummy and then suddenly you felt emptiness— her fingers were out.

Before you could even begin to complain, Sevika poured a generous amount of lube over the strap’s head. Your heart almost fell to your stomach seeing the sheer size of it, “It's huge, it won't fit,” you instantly said.

“Come on, doll, don't be so negative now,” Sevika smirked, guiding the head of the strap to your hole. You wanted to run away, but you also wanted to be courageous and brave.

“I can do this…” you whispered to yourself and gasped when the strap slowly slipped inside.

“Tell me when to start moving,” Sevika said when the toy was deeply seated inside of you.

You sighed, a little shaky and shuddering but that was fine. It hurt, the stretch hurt a lot but you could only imagine the pain if she started moving, “You're doing so well for me,” Sevika said as her flesh fingers stroked the side of your face, mechanical arm holding one leg and caressing the skin of your plush thigh.

“It hurts a lot,” you said, feeling the tears come but you didn't want to cry.

“I know,” Sevika traced the curve of your breast, taking one in her flesh hand and giving it a gentle squeeze, “It'll feel better soon, I promise,” she leaned down and took one of your nipples in her mouth and you moaned.

You could feel her warm, wet tongue swirling over your nipple and teasing the nub. Your back arched off the bed and you giggled, “That's— that's actually good,” you said, tail curling when she did that again.

“Want me to move now, honey?” Sevika asked in a low tone and you nodded hesitantly.

“I can wait if you—” “No, please,” you heaved a deep breath, “I'm ready.”

“Okay, then, if you want me to stop, just say so,” Sevika slowly started moving the strap, her hips pistoning in a steady motion.

Your legs came to wrap up around her waist as you moaned, your eyes closed and your head tilted back giving Sevika access to the midsection of your throat. She leaned and started leaving hickeys. You moaned loudly when she sucked a dark spot on your neck, teeth sinking to leave a bite mark around the hickey. “You're so beautiful.”

The pain of the thrusts melted into a sort of pleasure you'd never felt before and the only thing that escaped your mouth from then was soft “Ah”s as your legs tightened around Sevika's hips. Sevika smirked down at your needy form, slowly increasing her pace.

Even though she was being a little rougher and faster now, the pleasure you felt was otherworldly and something you couldn't exactly word out. Your lower tummy clenched, some sort of knot forming, your skin felt hot, “S-Sev…” you moaned comparatively louder than your other moans, Sevika shushed you gently.

As if she knew what was happening, “Just let it go,” she cooed and your back arched off the bed again. You bit down at the side of her neck as you came undone on her strap, body shivering from the sudden coldness you felt against your skin after your pussy stopped convulsing.

You laid back, down, breathing heavily, “That was… what was that?”

“Your first orgasm.”

[southernimpala]

big distraction

sam winchester x fem!reader

summary ↬ sam needs to distract you long enough for dean to decorate for your birthday, and he chooses the best way possible

notice ↬ birthday smutttt (mdni !) whoop whoop !!, promised some bday smut so here ya'll go, can't believe im 19 now eeeee, oral (f!recieving), unprotected p!v, sam is pussy drunk btw, birthday fluff !, no use of y/n, lowercase intended !

wordcount ↬ 2.5k

birthdays were never your thing. and they weren’t a hunter’s thing, either. always being on the road, never knowing if you’d even live another trip around the sun. it all seemed superficial and unnecessary to celebrate. 

so when sam and dean find out your birthday is today, you beg them to keep quiet about it. 

“no candles and cake?” dean jokes, nudging your shoulder in the booth of an old diner you were getting breakfast at, “or special birthday pancakes?” you see him point to the birthday special written in cursive letters on the sticky menu. 

“no,” you solidify, taking a warm sip of coffee, “being alive and with you idiots is enough.” 

your boyfriend, sam, who's sitting across from you forking his eggs, shakes his head but stays quiet, like he’s planning a surprise attack behind your back. 

you don’t notice him catch dean’s eye as you read over the check, or see them scouting potential places to buy party decorations while you drive to the motel—yes, you insisted to drive baby—and you certainly don’t hear them whispering to each other as you lose yourself in a book on the weirdly comfortable mattress that is probably twice your age. 

when dean comes back from an outing later that night—“just talking to potential witnesses,”—he said, totally suspiciously, you’re eyes run down his arm to him carrying inside the large duffle bag he keeps in the trunk, full of salt guns and holy water. 

you sit up straighter in your seat against the bed frame, suddenly alert, but sam makes no moves, “what’s wrong, why are you—” 

“just would rather have these closer to us,” he rushes quickly, a lopsided smile on his face, dropping the duffle like it doesn’t weigh a ton on the gross motel carpet, giving sam a ‘am i doing okay?’ look that has your brows furrowing. 

“dean, can i see you in private?” sam says through gritted teeth, nodding to the bathroom. 

dean sends him an awkward grin, nodding before they both disappear behind the off white door. in an instant, you’re pressed up against it, ear turned on the highest setting you can, trying to hear through the loud AC unit and buzz of cars outside the open window. 

although, you don’t have to listen too hard. the two of them are so loud, you wonder whether you could’ve stayed sat on the bed. 

“alright, here’s the plan, you stay here and set up—i’ll distract her.” sam’s voice. 

“why do i have to decorate? the cake’s probably smushed in the damn duffle—”

“just let me handle it, okay?” 

“i’m gonna need twenty minutes.” 

“it takes you that long to frost a cake and put up a sign—” 

“thin ice, sammy.” 

you imagine sam’s face and try to swallow a laugh, but the revelation that they’re planning a surprise for you is enough to knock your world off its axis. even though you told them not to fuss, there’s something pure about them doing this for you. something the three of you could use in the midst of the chaos of your lives. 

“how are you distracting her? gonna take her into town or something?” dean’s voice. 

“i don’t know, maybe, i—” 

“no,” 

“dean—”

“you’re not having sex in my car.” 

your face burns. 

“dean, i didn’t—” 

“i saw that look!” 

your palm comes to cover your mouth, stifling another burst of amusement. 

“let me take care of it alright? you just focus on hanging the sign up the right way.” 

you hear shoes shuffling against the bathroom tile, and you spring up quick to settle yourself back comfortably on the bed. 

the door opens and sam meets your eye, “dean thinks he left something in the car,” he says, as if you’re stupid. the inside of your cheek is shredded so you don’t smile. 

“alright,” you throw the book down onto the floral duvet beneath you, swinging your legs over the edge of the bed, “shall we?” 

both boys’ faces crease in confusion at your compliance. but nonetheless, you follow sam outside as he sweeps the impala’s keys off the table. 

once outside, you find it hard to keep your hands off him, rubbing your palms up his arms as he walks you to the parking lot, anxious to surprise him. 

when sam shuts the car door, you’re on him in a second, pouncing like a cat onto his lips. he melts instantly into your taste, like every plan and course of action he thought to distract you vanishes from his mind. his large hand comes to cup your cheek, soft under his calloused touch, and you’re moaning at the sensation of his fingers tangling in your hair. 

sam pulls from you just slightly to murmur, “you beat me to it.” 

his voice, husky with desire, has you squirming in the rough leather seats, aching for his touch to cover you everywhere, and you feel giddy knowing it will, “how else am i supposed to celebrate my birthday?” 

a warm chuckle breathes past his lips, swollen and pink, “i thought you didn’t wanna celebrate it?” 

you smirk, moving to place chaste kisses along his jaw and down the veins of his neck, eliciting a sultry laugh from him that makes you never want to stop, “i think i can allow this.”

“think or know?” he teases, savoring the pleasure building in his body, fueling a fire only you know how to control, how to burn hotter. 

sam’s hands grip your waist at the sensation of your mouth trailing across his skin. with your nose buried in the crook between his shoulder, you smell the fresh soap, old lore books, and something spicy like aftershave as it fills your brain like fog. he rests his cheek on the crown of your head, reveling in your lips for another moment before he’s gently laying you down in the backseat, your legs spreading like muscle memory as he nestles between them. 

his fingers slowly hike the white sundress you’re wearing up your legs, making sure to just barely graze your thighs. wetness starts to pool in your center as he recaptures your mouth on his, heavy breaths and gasping moans as his hands trail higher up your body beginning to fill the impala. 

“will dean be mad?” you mumble against him, eyes closed in bliss as he palms one of your breasts, “—that we’re doing it in his baby?”

sam laughs mischievously, knowing damn right what the answer is but at this point, you’re both too far gone to stop, and the bulge pressed against your inner thigh, just missing where it needs to be, confirms that for you.

“he won’t mind,” he says, sighing as you start to fumble with the buttons on his shirt, revealing his taut abs and broad chest, adorned with the anti possession tattoo that has your mouth watering. 

“oh, he won’t, will he?” you help him shrug the rest of his shirt off while he un-patiently starts to tug your panties down, “pretty, right?” 

“so pretty,” he smiles, but tosses them to the side like they’re nothing but a useless barrier between him and the paradise between your legs that’s his, catching them on the steering wheel,“and no, he won’t mind.” 

before you can protest again, he’s delving into your pussy, slick and warm with your primal need for him. his tongue moves in agonizing circles up and down your folds, making you writhe and grip his soft locks in your hands to keep you grounded to earth. 

but when he sucks your clit past his lips, you’re sure you see heaven. 

“sam!” you shriek, bucking your hips into his face as his chin dampens. you feel his smirk against you, he can taste the way you fall apart, but the pressure doesn’t let up.

“mmm, taste’s so good,” he mumbles drunkenly, fingers pressing imprints into your thighs as he holds them down beside his head. 

you throw your head back against the back window, trying to ignore the little voice in your head yelling, “you’re in a motel parking lot and anyone can see you if they just—” but the white hot pleasure that explodes from your body as he flicks his tongue right there removes any thoughts other than your need to have him inside you, to give you something to clench around as you jolt and ache. 

his name falls from you like a prayer, one he answers faster than god as his pants are off and boxers pulled down before you can even open your eyes. 

you manage to get a glimpse of him as he pumps himself a few times, the length you’ve taken oh so many times now a gift that seems too perfect for such a meaningless birthday. but when he pushes into you, hot, sweaty, skin against yours, it’s hard to see how you can’t celebrate the day after this. 

“god, yes,” you moan into his ear when he leans down, chest against yours to be as low under the window as possible. 

his eyes clench shut in pleasure, “fuck, you f-feel so good,” he sputters, because all he can focus on is the way you’re squeezing him.

sam moves like he was made to fit in you, hitting that spot inside you everytime that has you see stars. even now, as he struggles against the urge to drive into you so hard your legs will need days to recover, he’s gentle, soft, as he stretches and kisses and worships. 

the impala shakes and rocks underneath you, and you’re sure if it wasn’t 9:00pm on a tuesday, you’d probably be caught by now; windows fogging and the occasional pop up of sam’s hair through the glass when he lifts up to watch himself disappear in you because he just can’t help it. he throbs at the sight and you feel it deep in your core, pressing your climax faster.

“‘mmm, best b-birthday ever—” you mumble, your words harshly cut with a whiny moan when sam’s idle fingers come to toy with your clit, “jesus christ!”

“not quite,” he gasps a laugh, “oh, fuck,” 

your vision blanks. the coil snaps. pussy squeezes so tight sam can barely move. 

and the impala seats? soaked. 

sam follows close behind, hips stuttering, soft lips parted all the way as your name slips off his tongue, dripping with the taste of you. you swallow his moan, his whine, as he fills you, still pumping through both your highs. 

your pussy leaks his warmth. you catch him staring. 

“make sure it doesn’t get on the seat!” you worry, starting to sober up. 

you can tell he isn’t all the way back to earth, so he drunkenly smiles, “i think we’re past that point, baby.” 

as you fix the straps of your dress, sam reaches behind the seat for a rag to wipe the leather, probably the cloth dean keeps in the car in case of oil spills or, well, this. 

your legs shake as you step out of the impala, suddenly feeling overexposed and like everyone in the motel was watching somehow. sam’s throws his clothes on, his princess hair barely fixed with puffed lips that match yours. 

you try to catch your breath as the wind whispers against your sticky skin, “think dean’s done decorating the room?” 

sam’s eyebrows furrow for a moment before lifting them in realization, mind blanking, “u-um, how did you—” 

“kinda hard to keep a secret when you both talk so loud,” you nudge his shoulder playfully, unusual butterflies spreading through your stomach as you anticipate the surprise waiting for you inside, “it was a good effort, though.” 

“and that’s why you—” jumped my bones, he wants to say, but he knows you know already, “i’m gonna get you,” he promises, grinning crooked at the way you outplayed them, “your next birthday, the surprise is mine.” 

“sure, sammy,” you wink, fishing the key out of his back pocket before unlocking the door. 

as if on cue, dean, who is by the bedside lamp, flicks it on to expel the darkness and reveal an unevenly hung HAPPY BIRTHDAY sign in holographic letters strung up on the wall above the beds, stuck messily with duct tape. there’s a mixtape on the duvet with birthday girl’s birthday mix written on the top, paired with a dollar store bow dean’s slapped on, and a few books stacked together that you can only assume is sam’s gift. 

the cake on the end table, with messy chocolate icing that’s also all over dean’s fingers, is what sends tears teasing your waterline.  

“surprise!” he shouts, waving his hands in the air. 

sam shakes his hand against his throat, mouthing, ‘she knows’ behind you. 

dean narrows his eyes at his brother, rolling them and throwing his arms up, “really, sam? you couldn’t even keep the surprise?” 

that forces a watery laugh out of you, cheeks flushed and heart warm, “it’s fine, it’s fine, dean, this is—” 

“awesome, right?” he finishes, that shit eating grin right back where it belongs on his scruffy face. 

“yeah,” you agree, instinctively leaning against sam’s chest, “it’s awesome.” 

sam’s hands come tight on your forearms, rubbing gently to soothe the emotions he knows you’re trying to bite back. your lip wobbles between your teeth as dean reaches for the cake. 

“maybe i could get behind none of that gross birthday special pancake crap,” he hands you the cake, which is resting on a flimsy paper plate while he fishes for the lighter in his pocket, “but no candles and cake? sweetheart, that’s just unacceptable.” 

dean reaches to switch the lamp back off, the room consumed in pitch black again, save for the moonlight emitting little light through the dingy curtains. the small, orange flame stemming from his lighter illuminates all three of your faces as he burns the tip of the pink candle, mumbling a ‘there we go’ as he flicks the lighter back off. 

“make a wish,” sam says softly as he stands behind you. 

you shut your eyes, make your wish, and blow. 

dean starts to clap. sam’s touch is grounding. 

“happy birthday, baby,” he murmurs in your ear, just for you. 

when the lights come back on, and dean uses a machete to cut the cake, he notices sam trying to fix the lopsided buttons on his shirt, that was very hastily thrown back on. 

what you didn’t realize he’s also looking at, is the medium sized hickey on sam’s neck.

“soooo,” dean starts, trying not to make his starting obvious, “i thought she was the only one supposed to get presents today.” 

sam’s forehead creases. you look up from the cake you're actively stuffing in your face. 

“what do you—” sam follows dean’s finger to the mirror, where the purple bruise you gifted him rests tenderly on his soft skin, “oh.” 

dean chuckles, shaking his head in contempt, “what kinda distraction did you give her?” 

sam’s too flustered to speak, so you swallow the smooth chocolatey goodness down your throat and answer for him. 

“a big distraction.” 

let’s just say you and sam weren’t allowed near the impala by yourselves for a long time.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ tags ↬ @h8aaz , @sacr1ficialang3l <33

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ sam winchester masterlist !

[celestiamour]

‧₊˚✧ ❛[ under your roof ]❜

ft. logan howlett x f! reader — xmen, marvel

╰₊✧ your baby daughter really likes uncle wade’s roommate, and logan would be lying if he said he didn’t form a quick attachment to the two of you as well┊2.9k words; prt two

setting: deadpool & wolverine (2024) worst! logan contains: probably occ logan, he’s on his best behavior, mostly fluff with a little side of angst, single mother reader with an unspecified age, this chapter is mainly between logan & your daughter, reader has a bad relationship with the father & he’s an asshole, one joking threat of stabbing

➤ author's note: this was so much fun to write! single mom reader and her daughter are so lovely and i have two more part featuring these two and logan coming up! i hope you guys enjoy

kids don’t like logan. it’s not a profound discovery nor is it a surprise to anyone who learns this fact. he’s intimidating enough to make some full-grown men piss themselves with so much as a glare, much less little babies who start sobbing uncontrollably when they see a giant scary man walking around believing that he would eat them or something even though he’s literally just standing there. whether the little ones have an instinct that signals him out as a mutant or he simply looks like a bad man from one of their fairy tales, he isn’t sure, but it’s not the best feeling either way when he’s trying to settle back into normal life with the constant weight of knowing that he’ll never fit in.

it doesn’t help that, in general, he isn’t good with kids either. he’s generally patient with their immaturity since they don’t know any better, but he finds the crying and whining extremely headache-inducing to his sensitive senses without a clue how to calm them down.

moving in with wade and acquainting himself with his friends was a start, but the missing part of his life to make him finally feel loved and at home was the family of two who lived downstairs. the first time he met you was also the first time he met your daughter when wade told him to dress a little nicer because the two of them were invited to your place for dinner. he explained that the two of you were practically siblings and that it would probably be something he should get used to, reminding him to “turn that frown upside down” because he was about to meet someone who “puts gordon ramsey to shame.”

the last bit sounded great to him, especially because no one in their household knew how to make anything more complicated than noodles without setting it on fire and the cost of outside food was really starting to tally up. still, he just wore some cargo pants and threw on a leather jacket, running his fingers through his hair once which was already a lot more effort than he’s ever put into meeting anyone else before.

wade didn’t even bother knocking, just being himself and picking the lock as he so typically does, kicking the door open and yelling a loud ass “daddy’s home!” which echoed throughout the apartment as well as the hallway they were standing in. the mouth-watering smell of grilled salmon filled the air, making wade hum in excitement, “do you need help with anything? taste testing, perhaps?”

“no, do me a favor and stay away from the kitchen!” your voice rang out loud and clear, sounding much like a mother scolding a teenager for the thousandth time. “i’ll stab you, do me a favor and just hang out in the living room.”

“okie-dokie!” he responded in an annoying sing-song voice, “come on, peanut, take off your shoes.” the said man could already tell how at home his roommate seemed in this place, just as comfortable as he was back home, walking with steps he’s taken many times before and prompting logan to do the same (except he was mainly keeping to himself and being much more mild-mannered in this unfamiliar area).

the place was as spacious as the small area could be and tastefully decorated, but all sharp corners of furniture were taped over to dull the edges and the carpet had multiple kinds of colorful toys littered about. in the center of it all, was a little toddler about two or three years old, playing with a kitchen set and trying to copy what her mom was doing by running back and forth between the living room and the kitchen. she didn’t even notice the two men at first, not until wade called out her name and she dropped the plastic utensils to clap her hands together before waddling over to him.

“hey, baby! how are you doing? did you miss me?” he cooed in the high-pitched voice reserved only for mary puppins, reaching down to pick up the girl by her underarms and kissing her cheek, spinning around with her in his arms as she giggled uncontrollably. “do you wanna meet the big scary wolverine while i go bother your mommy? who am i kidding, of course you do!” he then dropped her onto the couch, making sure that she didn’t bounce up too high on the cushion and hurt herself. “okay, you keep her company while i go see what’s for dessert— bye!”

before logan could say anything, he was already gone, disappearing around the corner into the sound of sizzling foods and the scent of herbs. pursing his lips together and shuffling his feet around for a second, he grunted and braced himself for the child to start sobbing uncontrollably because she was left alone with him. the first time he meets you, whom he’s heard so many good things about, is going to be when you have to kick him out with his tail in between his legs for disturbing the peace of your home.

but the cries never came, and his eyes met her big curious ones as she just stared up at him in silence. it was honestly a tad bit unnerving like she was sizing him up and carefully thinking about her next move. 

and then she started giggling like earlier, kind of a more gurgling noise of playfulness more than anything, standing at his feet and waving around her short outstretched arms to signal that she wanted uppies from him.

“oh no—“ he’s not sure why he even let out a word or protest to begin with when he knew she wouldn’t listen, but it was pure instinct since, once again, he had no idea how to handle children. although she would probably also start crying if he didn’t listen to her, so he reluctantly bent down to pick her up, holding her close to the side of his chest and nervously awaiting her next move.

she was motionless for a minute with a little hand on her chubby cheek and the other trying to clutch onto the thick leather of his jacket, eyes darting around like she was seeing the world from a new perspective for the first time even though he was a hundred percent certain wade held her like his when they are the same height.

“kitty!”

“what?”

she pointed at the top of his head, his hair tuffs specifically, and reached out to pull on one of them curiously.

“no— not a kitty!” he’s never going to escape that fucking nickname, he wouldn’t be surprised if his roommate taught her to say that before she met him in person, able to perfectly envision wade crouching in front of her with a stupid picture of him on his phone and training her to say “kitty” every time she saw his photo by rewarding her with candy or something since there is no way she associated someone who looks like him to a kitten so quickly unironically.

“no kitty?”

“no— logan, lo-gan.”

she tried to pronounce his name a few times before giving up after getting stuck in the second syllable, blowing a raspberry and going back to what she was doing earlier— finding the most fun in tugging on his cowlicks like she was trying to figure out if he naturally woke up like that with the inability to brush them down or styled them with gel every day.

he sat down on the couch, the cushion sinking under his heavyweight, and sat your daughter down on his lap instead, except she didn’t want to sit down. standing on his lap and pressing her little feet into his thighs, she began to climb onto his shoulder like he was a jungle gym, using his arms as stepping stones to reach her destination while he bent over at the waist to allow her to crawl onto his back without falling behind him.

“you’re like a little lemur,” he muttered, still in slight shock that this kid seemed to like him and wasn’t freaking out like he was the big bad wolf. he wouldn’t admit it, but it was a really nice feeling that gave him a sense of normalcy like he was just some guy rather than the killing machine mutant most knew him as. she wouldn’t stop giggling and holding onto him, which made him feel his ice-cold heart melting like snow by spring’s first touch. 

all the while, he could hear you and wade chatting away in the background: something about him needing to step away from the stove, how you needed to trust him because him starting “that fire” was a one-time thing, what was for dessert, and then taking a sharp turn when the conversation suddenly shifted to the topic of the father.

he felt somewhat guilty about listening in, but he knew that deadpool was going to tell him eventually, so there wasn’t really any harm in a bit of eavesdropping (besides, it would have been difficult to ignore considering that your baby was being very well-behaved and his hearing wouldn’t have been able to pick up on anything else.)

“so… any news about her dad?” the solemn tone of a man who was hardly ever serious a day of his life was more terrifying than anything he’d ever witnessed in his long life.

“... he suddenly wants to be a family man, i guess…”

“what the hell does that even mean?”

the sound of a knife chopping vegetables against a wooden surface slowly came to a stop followed by a sigh. “like he wants to have a family… just not with the one he already started… he’s busy planning his wedding with the girl he cheated on me with and told me not to contact him again for any reason.”

“oh my god, what an asshole! fuck that guy!”

“i can’t believe that was the guy i thought i was going to spend the rest of my life with, could you imagine? i don’t even know what i could have done wrong for him to be like this— i asked him so many times and he just said that he’s ‘fallen out of love,’ has ‘moved on,’ and that i would ‘be cruel’ to ask him to stay even if it was for the sake of our child…”

“well if it’s any comfort, he would have been on the next episode of forensic files the second i got a moment alone with him— i mean, the last time we saw him, he literally pushed his own daughter away when she tried to hug him! what kind of sociopath wouldn’t adore such a cutie patootie, especially his own flesh and blood?! ”

“it’s fine,” you hissed, gritting your teeth at the memory. “it’s not like he’s done anything to deserve getting to be called a father to an angel anyway, i’ll take care of her myself— wait… didn’t i also invite your new roommate? did he not come?”

“no, he’s in the living room, he’s been here this entire time,” he informed, taking a bite out of an apple like an asshole from a film.

“and you didn’t tell me?!!!” you quickly ran into the said area, finding logan and your daughter together on the couch. “hi! oh, i’m so sorry i didn’t come to greet you properly— and left my daughter for you to look after too— god, i’m just a terrible host!” you tilted your head, “what’s your name?”

he then realized he was staring which was rather impolite, mouth slightly agape too like a fish out of water which left a few seconds of awkward silence in between. “i-i’m logan,” he managed to sputter, “nice to meet you..”

wade raised a nonexistent eyebrow at his strange mannerisms before a wide, shit-eating grin split his face. 

“aww, baby, why are you bothering this poor old man— come to mommy, it’s dinnertime,” you clapped your hands and held them out fully expecting her to reach out and grab onto you as she usually does, but instead she looked up at you with big pleading eyes and held onto him even more tightly like a koala clinging to a branch. “oh, did you get attached already? you really are my daughter… logan, could you do me a favor and put her in her high chair while i plate everything?”

“yes, of course.”

you turned back into the kitchen, leaving the two men to follow with one holding your baby in his arms. all it took was one look to understand what he was thinking, logan didn’t need to be a telepath to know. 

“if you don’t shut the fuck up—”

“i didn’t even say anything!”

“good, keep it that way.”

love at first sight, wade has seen it plenty of times and understands it well, something so unpredictable and powerful, that it could bring the wolverine down on his knees. it’s even more potent when he trips over himself seeing you in your natural environment instead of all dressed up for a first date, slightly sweaty from the heat radiating off the stove, unkempt hair sticking to the sides of your face, no makeup or defenses up— just you as yourself to the core.

“alright, bub, let's get you seated…” it took a few tries to get her in because she refused to align her little legs into the holes of the plastic piece, but she eventually got into it just fine and he pulled up his own chair to watch you place a one of the most decadent plates of pasta with chunks of salmon he’s ever seen in front of him with a word of gratitude. 

“sorry it isn’t anything special, i completely forgot that i arranged this in the first place….”

“oh, no, it’s perfect—”

“you’re damn right ‘it’s perfect!’” wade interjected, “lemme tell you, wolvie, this simple plate of pasta is better than sex, i know damn well you’ve never tasted anything like it in all your two-hundred years!”

“well, now that you say it like that, he’s going to have high expectations and it will taste like ass compared to the actual best pasta dish he’s ever had.”

“he likes ass, don’t worry—”

the said man cleared his throat to steer the conversation back around, feeling the foreign sensation of embarrassment burning his face hit him at full force. “it’s delicious, thank you, truly the best i’ve ever tasted.”

“aw, you don’t have to say that.”

“no, he’s right, i think you really outdid yourself this time!”

the dinner was carried by cheerful conversations and fun stories, and despite just meeting you today, logan almost felt like he knew you for years and this was something a commonplace tradition between loved ones which was something he’s been yearning for for as long as he can remember. as he watches you laugh and feed your adorable baby, he can’t help but wonder about the idiotic man who was willing to throw away something so wonderful— something which would complete his life and fill the void in his heart.

“well, you two can hang around while i clean her up and put her to bed. there’s some wine and beer in—” you watched as deadpool had already opened your fridge and was digging around like a raccoon in trash before fishing out two bottles of beers and closing the door with his hips. “alrighty then, i’ll join you two in a bit.”

he watched as you disappeared into the hallway before diving headfirst into the couch next to the wolverine and handing him his beer, kicking his feet and smiling as if he was a middle-schooler at an all girls’ sleepover. “okay, so she has a solid job as an accountant, has her own place and car, is funny and pretty, but most importantly for you, single. she doesn’t like flowers as gifts, but if you gift her groceries or cleaning supplies—”

“she wouldn’t want an asshole like me,” he grunted, taking a sip from the bottle. “not when she just got free from another one.”

“peanut, i met the other guy, you’re infinitely better than him! as much as i would like to keep you to myself, i have already planned out my speech at your wedding as your best man, so just keep in mind that i’m your wingman, okay? don’t lie to me either, i know you have a little crush, and i think she does too—”

“no, she doesn’t.”

“quit cutting me off, you motherfucker!”

it was easier to try and suppress the sprouting seed of infatuation before it bloomed out of control. he didn’t want to hurt you or himself by chasing something that shouldn’t be in the first place. you deserve better, you and your daughter. you both should have someone who was younger and had the energy to be a good father and husband, not some old mutant who was freeloading off of his roommate and terrified of losing more people he cared about. if you knew about the blood on his hands and the claws embedded in them, you would probably be worried that you allowed him to hold your baby and shun him permanently. 

and yet he was already attached, sitting here imagining domestic life where he could see her grow up through the phases of life and help her navigate its complexities while also waking up next to you in his arms and seeing your beautiful smile everyday. 

maybe he won’t let that glimmer of hope die out and just hold onto it for a little while longer, allowing it to leave a little lingering smile on his weary face.

[devotedsweetheart]

・❥ SAY IT AGAIN

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊|• 0:10

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ rundown :: you find out caleb had been logging into your phone at random times of the day to keep track of who you were texting. frustrated, you call him to yell at him only to question what exactly he was doing on the other end.

WARNINGS :: NSFW! 18+ , phone sex , sub!caleb (per usual) , masturbation , cnc , use of y/n

a/n :: highkey got this idea from that one scene in twk when cardans kissing jude & telling her to say she hates him..🌝🌝

he had absolutely no right to be invading your personal space. absolutely none.

you were so fucking angry.

caleb was away on a trip with gran. usually, he would simply ask to check your phone, and you'd happily give it to him- knowing he means well. but with the shit he has been pulling, you're starting to question whether or not he really does trust you like he says he does.

you had found out that he was hacking into your phone because the device started acting awfully odd. opening apps you didnt click on, siri turning on without any context, letters on the keyboard being pressed when you never tapped on them in the first place. confused (and frankly a little scared), you took it to a professional to get it checked out. when he asked if anyone else had the password to your socials, thats when the realization dawned on you.

you felt so stupid. utterly dumb. but how were you supposed to know? you had told caleb about the issue multiple times and each occasion you mentioned it he would always say the same thing: "thats so weird, pips.. maybe you should go get it checked out or something." feigning complete innocence.

you had enough.

driving home as fast as you could, you barely reach the front door before you're calling him nonstop until he answers.

"hey pips! i missed yo-"

"you fucking liar."

there's a beat of silence at that. your breathing is heavy, going right into the mic- giving caleb an idea of what he's in for.

"um.. excuse me?" caleb manages, swallowing thickly. he knows exactly what you're going to yell at him for and he's praying to jesus christ himself that he can manipulate his way out of it.

"you know exactly what i'm talking about, don't try to play dumb. you've been going into my phone and looking through my shit. i thought you said you trusted me? what happened to that? i mean, seriously, caleb, i thought we had gotten over this." you say, voice pinched a bit higher than usual. you're pacing around the room in order to keep yourself calm, heart beating at a distressing rate as you don't like to argue with him.

"pips, i really don't know what you're talking about," he utters, licking his lips. "i know whats been going on with your phone has been messing you up, but you don't necessarily have to blame me for it. look, once i get back i'll help you figure out what's wrong with it just to prove that it's not me. deal?"

you can tell that he's trying his best to soften his tone to make his lie more believable, but you aren't gonna buy into it.

"no. no, caleb, just quit the act already. i'm so tired of this. i'll give you two choices," you say, sitting down on the couch; elbows on your knees. "either you stop with the whole hacking thing and we stay together, or i cut things off with you and we never talk again."

for a moment, there's nothing being said. pure silence. he's absolutely speechless on his end of the phone, mouth agape and eyes wide. every few seconds, he'd attempt to say something but nothing would come out- resulting in something that resembled a stutter.

"well? what's it gonna be?" you asked, becoming to grow impatient.

"y/n.." he whispered. "you.. you can't do that to me. i-.. i'm sorry for doing all that crap. i didn't do it because i don't trust you... it's other people that i don't trust. please believe me, baby. i can't stop doing it, it's just my way of keeping you safe."

aaaand now it's your turn to be shocked.

"are you fucking serious?" you yell, and you swear you can see the look on his face regardless if he's visible or not. eyebrows raised up, cheeks as red as roses, eyes backed up with tears. you know how much he hates being yelled at by you... but he deserves it. "you can't be serious. please tell me you're pulling some joke."

" baby, please. i-"

"enough. just quit it. i fucking hate you, caleb."

he swallows. no, practically gulps. he shouldnt be turned on by the sound of that. he really shouldnt. he knows he should be terrified by the threat of you leaving him... but the tent growing in his pants is getting undeniably uncomfortable that he just can't seem to care.

unzipping his jeans, he gently lays his back on his bed, being carefully quiet to ensure you don't hear.

"you're fucking insane and no matter how much i try to talk to you about it you never change. it is draining, caleb. you have absolutely no idea how fucked up you are."

he's nodding against his phone, murmuring small 'yeah's here and there to let you know that he's listening. what you aren't aware of is the fact that instead of really listening, he's actually moving his hand at an insane speed on his dick. it gets to the point that he can't even respond, the pleasure taking over. all he needs is for you to tell him how bad he is and how much you despise him for him to be able to go over the edge.

the fact that you don't even know whats going on keeps him going for even longer.

"...-is so frustrating, caleb! you don't even care for me and... wait, are you even listening? hellooo?" you shout, expecting an answer.

he picks up his phone from where it was sitting on his pillow and takes it off speaker phone to reply. "y-yes, baby? 'm sorry.. i'm, um, listening. keep talking." he responds, stuttering over his words.

you roll your eyes, thinking he simply just doesn't care. "my god, you're so fucking annoying. i hate you so much, y'know that?"

he nods hastily, even though you can't see it. "y-yes. say it again. please." the last word comes out broken as he was embarrassingly close to cumming.

you stop in your tracks, both eyebrows furrowed. "um..." you utter, confused at what he was playing at. "i... hate.. you..?"

"f-fuck!" he whisper-shouts, hips thrusting into his hand as he drops the device back onto where it was initially. he brings his previously free hand down to his cock to stroke the tip, twisting his wrists. biting his lip, hard enough to draw blood, he makes his best effort to keep little whimpers inside of his mouth. it works for the most part... but you already knew what was happening. he does it too many times for you to not know.

"caleb." you warn.

he doesn't answer, he can't answer, mind is too hazy from the force of his orgasm. he's practically like putty on his bed, half asleep and half awake.

"text me in the morning." you say before hanging up and throwing your phone on the bed.

he will not ever learn.

[ohsoimaginari]

painful reminders || jwy

synopsis: in which your boyfriend undergoes a cramp simulator

cw: fluff, crack, established relationship, intended as a nonidol!au but can be read otherwise, periods, one mention of vomiting, brief mentioned of a period from hell, absolute theatrics, reader calls wooyoung youngie, one jagi used i think?, fem!reader, boyfriend!wooyoung

words: 2641

edited but nobody’s perfect ~.~

an: this is absolutely ridiculous. i cannot stress this enough.

it

is

ridiculous

but i have no regrets. had sm fun writing it. okay let’s continue ^•^

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Having to deal with period cramps is arguably one of the top five most painful experiences one has to go through every month or so. You’re sure many agree. And for you, most times on the first and last day, they would absolutely wreak havoc, as if your uterus was out for vengeance.

There would be nothing more you could bring yourself to do than to curl up in a tight ball with a heating pad on your lower abdomen, the strongest painkillers you could find in your system and a whole lot of hoping and crying that it would end soon. And that was when they were being courteous.

It was an awful time, truly despicable and without mercy in every way and you dreaded each time your period drew closer and closer. Which is why you don’t understand why your boyfriend, Wooyoung, would ever want to experience something akin to that.

“What?”

You stared at your boyfriend dumbfounded as he held out the unthinkable machine to you. “It’s a period simulator. I ordered it online. There’s so many of them so it was a little confusing choosing the best one but a lot of people say this one’s the closest to the real thing.”

You blinked. Then again, mouth slightly agape as you continued to look at him with a mix of disbelief and horror.

You shook your head as if to clear your already existing thoughts to make room for better processing of the words that had come out of his mouth.

“So, let me get this straight,” you started slowly.

“You want me—“ you made a point to gesture to yourself for further emphasis—“to put these patches on you—“ you pointed at him—“so that they can simulate period cramps?”

Wooyoung nodded as if you had asked him any other mundane question that required his active response.

“Yes.”

You paused, processing his answer but it still refusing to register in your brain.

“You want to feel how period cramps feel?”

“Yes,” he simply answered again.

You still couldn’t believe what you’d heard was true, trying to convince yourself it had to be some sort of fever dream.

Once I wake up, I have to remember to drink my vitamin C, you thought because that was the only explanation you could think of.

“Willingly?”

“Yes,” he said.

Too calmly.

Too honestly.

He had no sense of apprehension to him, no sense of doubt. He was sure, so sure it bewildered you. What on earth could have possibly possessed him?

You pictured him sitting in front of his laptop and searching for the contraption in the first place, typing in the letters to form the words period pain simulator, and reading through every review for each product meticulously. How many of these products or reviews there were in the first place, you didn’t know.

Did you even want to know?

“Why?” Your question came out a lot more exasperated than you had intended. You didn’t mean for it to happen, you were simply too puzzled to fully comprehend the situation at hand.

He smiled at you sheepishly, his smile managing to dazzle you for a bit, only adding on to your current bewilderment.

“Well, I see how much they affect you and I’ve heard stories of how awful they can feel and I’ve always been a bit more curious. It’s my way of trying to understand you better.”

Your heart swelled but that still didn’t change the fact this was an odd, albeit slightly amusing now, request. You simpered, nearly giving in but still willing to talk him out of him. “Youngie, you don’t have to do this to understand me better. What you do already is more than enough.”

Wooyoung simply shrugged, clearly determined to go through with his plan no matter what you’d say to him.

“You’ve told me you’ve experienced them while doing normal things. I just want to know how bad it could get.” You sighed, admitting defeat.

“Okay. If you insist. But remember, this was your idea,” you responded a little reluctantly. You eyed him with hesitation drawn on your face from the encouraging words he gave you as he handed you the machine and you examined it.

It was similar to the blood pressure monitors you’ve seen before but instead of one sleeve, it had for small patches you had to paste onto your lower abdomen.

You read the instructions carefully before proceeding to paste them onto yours first.

“I’ll put them on first so I can give you an accurate-ish experience of mine.”

You were doubtful this would even come close to the real thing but anything to humour your boyfriend who was enthusiastically encouraging you to proceed, still no qualms about his own future experience with the machine on show.

You eyed him strangely before looking at the screen. There was a giant 0 in the middle that would go all the way up to ten and another graphic of a bar beside it to better illustrate the intensity level. You pressed start, bracing yourself to experience these godforsaken cramps when you weren’t even close to your time of the month.

You wondered if you could even accurately remember them because as soon as you were finished with your period, it was as if you had no recollection of the torment you had gone through.

But when the intensity was on level one and you felt that slight tug in your abdomen, you knew you would have no problem remembering.

The first two stages were not so intense, as expected and you told him so. “This is usually just before my period starts or the day before, warning be that it could start any day now. So not too bad. I think you’ll be fine.”

He nodded fervently. You couldn’t tell anymore whether it was from excitement or nerves.

The machine automatically cranked itself up to three and the pain slightly intensified but still bearable. This was reminiscent of the pain you’d experience on the day you were meant to start. Still nothing bad.

By four, you could clearly feel them and were shocked at how accurate they actually were. “It’s not too bad but this is around the time where I should start making sure I have the equipment I’ll need because it only gets worse from here.”

You could’ve sworn you saw him gulp and his expression was now a lot tamer, as if it was finally dawning on him what he would have to go through.

“Remember, you don’t have to do this,” you reminded him as the pain heightened to six. It was nothing you couldn’t really handle but around the time where you have to make sure your heating bad is prepared and you’ve already taken a painkiller.

He paled when you tell him this but still persisted.

Seven, you told him, was when you’re waiting for the painkiller to kick in but it’s unbearable now and eight is when it’s on your worst days; where your hunched over from the pain, gripping fiercely at whatever was in reach and tears threatening to run down your cheeks. You’ve only ever experienced a nine twice in your life—where you felt so much pain you vomited on both occasions but you wouldn’t let it get that far.

Even you had your limits.

You only had to sit down at eight but was still going strong enough to narrate your experience for him. “Eight is usually the limit. It’s around there where I have to lie down or sit down and wait for it to subside but after I’ve taken my painkillers it lasts around fifteen to twenty minutes so it’s not that bad.”

Wooyoung had grown silent by this time but he seemed a bit encouraged by your vocalisations for each round.

It didn’t stop you from worrying for him.

He helped you put on the patches on himself in the correct spots and stood comically rigid, his back as straight as a ruler and fists clenched on either side.

You snorted.

“We really don’t have to do this. It’s good enough you help me through my time but you don’t have to actually feel what I feel.”

“No, no, no,” het lets out quickly, shaking his hands in protest and trying his best to steel his nerves.

“I can do it. I’ll be okay.”

You sighed before preparing yourself, and him, to press start.

“You ready?” He didn’t respond with words anymore, simply aggressively nods and clenches his jaw.

You pressed the button and at the sound of the click, he screamed.

You immediately stopped and attended to him, concerned. “Are you okay? Did it hurt already?”

If that was the case, you weren’t even sure you’d make it past three.

Wooyoung sheepishly laughed and dismissed his reaction. “I’m sorry, I panicked. I’m sorry. No, continue. I’m ready now.”

You proceeded to press the button a little more suspiciously and cautiously than the first one, your worry only growing.

You saw on the screen the intensity was at level one and the only thing he’d done so far was slightly jolt from the pain. He assured you he was okay and that you should continue.

It steadily jumped from two until three. Wooyoung released an unrestrained curse that startled you but you couldn’t help your giggle. “Are you okay?”

Words had evaded him as he clutched on his lower half but gave you a thumbs up to show he was still fine.

By the time it reached four, more than you what you thought he would handle, his whole face had surprisingly turned a bright red and you could see small sweat beads forming on his forehead. Wooyoung had his eyes clothes tights and he had the same expression like when he was lighting heavy weights.

“Jagi, you have to breathe, okay? You have to breathe or you’ll pass out.”

Your concern was mixed with amusement and as much as you wanted to switch it off, you couldn’t help but find a little bit of sadistic humour at his reaction.

At number five, he let out such a yelp it took you by surprise and you almost dropped the machine but found your bearings soon enough.

His screaming wouldn’t stop now.

You tried to speak to him over the noise but you highly doubted he could hear you but you had to still try.

But before you could speak, Wooyoung fell onto all fours and cursed louder than before. “Should I stop?” You asked him, a bit startled as he crawled on the floor in what was obviously excruciating pain for him.

He shook his head once more (although not as convincing as the other times) but was now full on sweating.

By seven, the most peculiar thing happened: he began to undress.

“Hot…hot…” was all he could manage out as he took off the black t-shirt he’d worn which, if it were a different colour, you were sure would most likely be drenched in sweat.

You knew then that you had to make a quick executive decision and you switched the machine off.

His ragged breathing filled the air, as if he had run a marathon and he looked over at you with a dazed look.

“Why’d you…why’d you stop?” he croaked. “Because you would’ve died and how would I explain to your mom you died from period cramps?”

His haggard breathing continued as he stood up. “I was fine. I could still go on.”

He fanned himself and you scoffed.

“No, you couldn’t,” you said and gave him a sympathetic grin.

Once he’d regained his breath, he looked over to you with a newfound admiration in his eyes. “You stood there and spoke to me throughout that entire thing when it was your turn.”

You nodded.

“I’ve seen you do your chores after you’ve told me you had cramps.”

You nodded again. “I mean, they have to get done eventually right?”

He shook his head, still in utter disbelief. “You spoke to me. You’ve walked around, done your chores and have gone to work…while that was happening to your body?” His voice was tinged with incredulity and respect. You gave him another amused smile and nodded.

“Yes, Youngie. That happens while I carry on with my day. It only really gets immobilising around level ei—“

Before you could finish, he pulled you into a tight hug. You giggled into his arms before putting your own around him.

“I love you. I don’t know how you do it but I’m so proud of you.”

“For cramps?” You looked up at him with scrunched eyebrows.

“For enduring. But I promise you as long as I’m here, even when I’m not, I’ll find a way to make the whole experience a lot more bearable for you. No one deserves to go through that.” He suddenly poured, as if deep in thought. “I wish there was a way I could help everyone,” he mumbled under his breath.

You rolled your eyes at his theatrics but said nothing more.

As if suddenly struck with another realisation, he brightened.

“My mom! My mom’s probably gone through that too! I have to go call my mom and apologise to her!”

Before you could even ask him what exactly it was he was apologising for, Wooyoung had already gone in search of his phone.

You carefully repackaged the machine into the box it came in and prepared to store it when you overheard his conversation with his mom on the phone.

"...And I promise I'll continue to be an even better son that you deserve, mom. I'm sorry for the headaches I've given you. The pain you've already been through is enough, I shouldn't have added on. I love you, mom."

You stifled your giggles as you placed the box in a safe location, hopefully far from Wooyoung's reach again.

When you returned to where he was, he looked dejected. You raised your eyebrows and sat next to him, ruffling his hair. Usually he'd shoo your hand away with more vigor but he only did so weakly this time.

"What's wrong?"

He turned to you with a pout. "My mom. she hung up on me. She asked what I was going on about and then I told her and even told her I loved her but she hung up on me."

You covered your snort with a sudden cough before cooing at him and bringing in him for a hug, hopefully hiding your expression.

"You have to understand it's not everyday you hear your son tell you he willingly experienced something most women hate going through." Wooyoung sighed but cuddled into you more. Just then, his phone pinged and he picked it up, reading the message he'd received and then smiled.

"It's my mom. She says she loves me too and that I should take care of myself and you."

He pocketed his phone and pulled you closer to him again, his mood much lighter than previously, even if you knew he wasn’t all too displeased about his mom’s earlier reaction.

“I promise you and her that you’ll never have to worry about me again. Especially on your period. Or worry about your period, actually. I still can’t believe that happens every month. Every month?”

You chuckled but nodded your head as your boyfriend went on about the unfairness of it all and how he’ll do anything in his power to make sure yours go by smoothly from now on.

And he did.

He insisted on being included on your period tracker and now every time your first or last day near, you always have some painkillers, chocolate and a heating pad waiting nearby and a helpful boyfriend who’s ever so eager to give you any type of message you might like.

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an: i’m gonna try to be consistent with at least one post per month again but i’m back in school rn and the workload is ungodly but i’ll try my best!! anyways i know this might be completely ridiculous but i’ve always wanted to do this prompt with someone and wooyoung seemed perfect for it lol i’ll write something better and more serious for him one of these good days i promise!! okay enough of me rambling bye for now <3

[charmedsquirell]

How I got into the void

Hey guys,

My name is Sylvie. i want to share that two years ago, I started to look into the void state because I was in bad place in my life. I wanted to be useful for my family and give them everything in an instant. I downloaded tumblr and started to follow all the blogs I could find. I found a lot of information. Most of it contradicted one another and that confused me a lot. The people that helped me the most were b4ddprincess, lucky kiwii, adambja and wizlizbelle. When Wizliz left, i also deleted my tumblr since she was the only one who i used to rant to and i was really suicidal.

i found her again and started to ranting to her about my life which was irritating and I'm sure like most bloggers do not want to be trauma dumped on but i just did not have anyone on my side. But I wanted to make this post bc i know her blog doesn't exist anymore but there were people who wanted to know more about this stuff. I basically asked for tarot readings from her so i could see why it was not working for me and i would like ask every single day. one day she told me that my only problem is resistance. I will try my best to explain it like she did.

so basically the ego feeds on resistance because it knows you do not believe in the positive things you tell it fully and some people have their ego under control, some people do not. I used to do like 4 hour non stop affirming every day and it did not work for me. so she said stop affirming, stop asking tarot, and give in to the voice. I was like is she guiding me to do the wrong thing but then she said it helped her a lot. So i was not believing in this but i did it (she sent a script of what to say) and the voice came

"you will never date Alek and he will never love you" and i said "yeah i know. and?"

"you will never lose weight and be fat forever" and i said " yeah i won't. and?"

"you will never enter the void state" and i said "yeah i know i won't, and?" and then the voice like just stopped. there was nothing. literally nothing and my mind had never ever been clear. so i teold her like this happened and she says "you basically tamed your ego and put it to sleep by giving it what it wanted to hear but because you've been affirming and trying all these methods in your past, your subconscious will not buy into negtivity. Your subconscious is the part of your brain that cannot function on its own and blindly believes you. It cannot even see what u see."

i was literally so shocked because i would always affirm "no! he will love me and i'll enter the void" like trying to convince the go but wiz said that you can tame the ego and make it work for you instead of trying to convince it. when you agree with it, it becomes silent. like oh she gave me what i wanted to hear, now what? so now when i would think "the void is hard" automatically i would hear "no it's not". like not even me saying it but just a same voice that would be negative before.

look, i do not really care for like what is and what is not or whatever drama that happened. and it was bad to see her go but the truth is that we do not need to hear from others. Of course if she had not told me, i would not know but sometimes putting in the work does more damage than good sometimes and i used to see many like me here.

So then finally i tried this at night, when lying down i let the negativity came in and i did not resist it. when my mind became completely silent (it took maybe one to two minutes) i said "i am in the void" and i felt no resistance. then i did not expect anything but just to affirm over and over. finally i was there. it was the void and i knew because i did not even feel my whole body just like a floating thing like ball of light. I affirmed that my dad would get his job back and my bf would love me. i affirmed for losing weight. all that came true so fast but i spent time in the void. when i woke up, i had it. my dad was happy he brought sweets to celebrate. everything else came true as well. so now i come back to tumblr to say goodbye again that maybe we have to work with us and not against.

just to be safe, this is just my experience and i'm not gonna like respond or anything bc i do not want to be a blogger especially after seeing the drama. you may not feel this way but this worked for me. maybe it will work for you and maybe not.

[alisonsfics]

wrong name

pairing: tyler owens x best friend!reader

summary: you were doing a great job suppressing your feelings for your best friend until you hooked up with a guy and called out tyler’s name in bed. but it’s fine, tyler would never find out, right? right?

word count: 3.4k

warnings: smut, unprotected sex, car sex, fingering, praise kink, dirty talk, minors DNI (18+ only)

It had been one week since the most mortifying moment of your life.

You’d gone on a first date with a guy named Finn because that’s what you do when you’re trying to get over your crush on your best friend. You hope that maybe you’ll meet a guy that you’ll fall harder for and stop crushing on the guy who would never see you like that.

So, you went back to his place after dinner, and the sex was mediocre at best.

At first, Tyler only popped into your head for second. You imagined how much better it would feel if it was his hands running over your body. Then, you had more intrusive thoughts. Like the thought of Tyler bending you over and fucking you.

It’s only because you were desperate. There was nothing worse than trying to pretend you were having a good time when you were just bored out of your mind.

So, you suggested to Finn that he should blindfold you.

From there, your imagination really soared, and you allowed yourself to believe you were with Tyler.

It was a fun little secret, just for you.

Until you both came, and you called out Tyler’s name and not his.

You were praying you’d spontaneously combust because you couldn’t face him after that. You quickly scrambled back into your clothes and went home.

You were doing okay at pretending it never happened. When you were lying in bed at night, the memory liked to sneak up on you and mortify you all over again.

So, you were boycotting dates for the moment because you couldn’t risk doing it again.

You had a boring night of wine and a movie planned for yourself when Tyler called you. “Hey, Tyler? What’s up?” You asked him, cheerily.

“You got any plans tonight? I was thinking about going out to a bar.” He suggested.

Even over the phone, his voice ran right through you. Goosebumps ran down your arms as you tried to hide your excitement. “That sounds great. Pick me up at 8?” You suggested.

“Sounds perfect, see you soon.” He replied.

You hung up the phone and flopped backwards onto your bed. The heat rushed to your cheeks. You had to fight the urge to giggle and kick your feet.

You’d been friends with Tyler for years, which didn’t mean you stopped getting butterflies around him. You just got better at hiding it.

You both had been through a lot together, and you didn’t want to jeopardize it by letting he find out you were harboring feelings for him.

So, you picked out a cute black dress to wear. One that Tyler’s eyes would linger over, but he’d never admit it. Just like every time the two of you went out to a bar.

You’d just finished getting ready whenTyler’s red truck pulled up outside your apartment. You quickly ran down the stairs to greet him.

“There she is,” he said, his eyes running down your body as he got out of the truck. That look of awe was enough to make you feel dizzy.

You could feel the butterflies start to swarm as he walked closer to you. “You look gorgeous as always.” He said, taking your hand and spinning you in a circle.

You thanked him as he pulled you in for a quick hug.

“Your chariot awaits.” He joked, opening the passenger door for you.

The drive there went by in a flash. You and Tyler knew each other like the back of your hands, so you could easily spend hours talking about nothing and everything.

“So, any particular reason you wanted to go out tonight?” You asked, looking over at Tyler as you both took a seat at the bar. You knew Tyler’s favorite solution for problems at work was going out drinking with you. No one could calm Tyler down the way you could.

“Can’t it just be because I wanted to hang out with my best friend?” He asked, cocking his head to the side. You rolled your eyes at him, swatting his arm. “While I am a delight, I know that’s not it.” You encouraged him, letting your hand linger on his forearm.

His eyes darted down. The way your small hand was gripping onto his muscular arm was enough to distract him. You quickly pulled your hand away, feeling slightly embarrassed after seeing his reaction.

“Just tornado stuff. We had this big opportunity to get a bunch of data, but some of the equipment malfunctioned. We lost almost everything.” He explained. He was eager to move the conversation past how he had almost malfunctioned because you grabbed his arm.

You gave him a small sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry, Tyler. That’s frustrating. You’ll figure it out. I mean, you’re the tornado wrangler after all.” You said, cheesily trying to cheer him up. Tyler chuckled and looked down at his hands.

Ever since Tyler had been branded the “Tornado Wrangler,” you loved to tease him about it.

“Oh, c’mon, you know I hate when you call me that.” He groaned, smiling at you. You cheekily shrugged your shoulders.

“I gotta go to the bathroom real quick. Can you watch my drink?” You asked him. Tyler quickly nodded, sliding your drink over in front of him. You rushed towards the bathroom, where you assumed there’d be a line.

“Two shots of tequila please,” Tyler heard a man come up to the bar and order beside him.

He didn’t pay a lot of attention to it, until he saw the man down both shots back to back, out of the corner of his eye. “Rough day?” Tyler joked, looking over at the man.

“Rough week,” the man corrected him, with a grim expression. Tyler looked at the man’s face, not being able to shake the feeling that he knew him from somewhere.

“Wait, do we know each other? You look familiar.” Tyler said, furrowing his eyebrows as he thought. The man gave him an awkward smile and shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t think so, man.” He said, knowing he’d never seen Tyler before.

That’s when he saw Tyler’s eyes light up in recognition. “Oh, wait. You’re Finn, right?” He asked him.

Finn’s expression only became more anxious and worried. “Yeah, umm. I am, but how do you know my name? I don’t think we’ve ever met.” He asked.

Tyler quickly shook his head, trying to assure the man who was growing more nervous. “No, we haven’t met. You went on a date with my friend Y/N last weekend. She showed me your picture before you guys had your date.” Tyler said.

Finn nodded in recognition. All the memories of that night came rushing back to him. “Oh, yeah. That explains it.” Finn said, sheepishly. It was clear to Finn that this man he was speaking to didn’t know anything about how that date went.

“Sorry, don’t want to be rude. I’m Tyler, by the way.” Tyler said, quickly shaking Finn’s hand. Finn stared blankly back at him. “Tyler?” He asked, feeling his blood run cold. Tyler nodded, giving Finn a friendly smile.

Meanwhile, you were on your way back to the bar.

“Hey, Tyler. I’m back.” You said, reaching to grab your drink back from Tyler. Your gaze drifted past Tyler to the man that was standing beside him.

“Hey, Y/N. Good to see you.” Finn said, with a fake smile. You felt yourself freeze. You wanted to run away, but you couldn’t convince your feet to move.

“Oh—uh, Finn. Yeah, good to see you.” You nervously lied. Your eyes darted between Tyler and Finn. You were praying Finn hadn’t found out Tyler’s name. You were also praying he hadn’t told Tyler what happened.

“I guess you haven’t told your friend, Tyler, here that our date was kind of a bust.” He said, coldly.

You wrapped your hand around Tyler’s bicep, trying to tug him towards you. You wanted Tyler to get the hint that you really wanted to leave.

Tyler turned to face you. He saw the pure panic in your eyes. “You okay?” He asked you, quietly.

You tried to form the word “no,” but no sound would come out of your mouth. All you could imagine was Finn telling Tyler what happened. You could practically see the way that Tyler’s face would change.

“I think the guy deserves to know.” Finn said, noticing the way you were tensed up. You weren’t hard to read in this moment, but Finn had been humiliated when you said the wrong name. So, he wanted revenge.

“That’s none of his business.” You said firmly. You refused to look Tyler in the eye. You were worried that if you did, he’d somehow see into your soul and know what happened.

“Let’s go.” Tyler said, standing up and wrapping his hand tightly in yours. Tyler knew how uncomfortable Finn was making you and wanted to get you out of there as quick as possible.

Tyler turned to leave, pulling you with him when Finn yelled after you both.

“We hooked up, but she called out your name, not mine.” Finn said.

You felt the hair on the back of your neck stand up. Your stomach sank. You felt like the floor was going to open it up and pull you under.

You tugged your hand away and ran out of the bar and into the parking lot. Tyler was trying to process what he’d just heard.

He turned around to face Finn, who had a grin on his face. “The lady told you to shut up.” Tyler practically growled, shoving Finn against the bar.

Tyler turned on his heel to follow you towards the car.

When he got outside, he saw you standing by the passenger side of the truck. Your arms were crossed, and your eyes were focused on the ground.

“Sweetheart—” Tyler started to say before you cut him off.

“I want to go home.” You snapped. Your tone came out harsher than you meant to.

Tyler slowly nodded. He didn’t want to push you to talk about something you didn’t want to talk about. You both got into the car in complete silence.

Tyler hesitated before putting the keys in the ignition. He glanced over at you. He could see your eyes starting to water as you still refused to look at him.

He cautiously reached over to let his fingers interlace with yours. “Will you please look at me, sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere. You’re not scaring me away. I promise.” He said, softly.

You hesitantly looked over at him. He gave you a soft smile, trying to calm you down. “Finn was a douchebag for telling me, but I’m not going anywhere.” He assured you. You softly squeezed his hand.

He used his other hand to brush a piece of hair behind your ear. “So…you were calling out my name, huh?” Tyler asked you, with a cocky smirk.

Your eyes went wide. You tugged your hand away from his and covered your face with your hands. “Tyler,” you complained, dragging out his name.

He chuckled to himself. “I wasn’t trying to tease you.” He said, holding his hands up in surrender.

You peeked at him through your fingers. “That’s exactly what you’re doing, Owens.” You said, groaning to yourself.

He shook his head. Then, you felt him grab both your hands. His rough calloused skin scratching against your soft hands. He moved your hands away, looking you in the eye.

“I was just offering to make your little fantasies a reality.” He said in a low voice.

You leaped across the car, grabbing the collar of his shirt and kissing him. His hand flew to the back of your neck as he kissed you back.

You could taste the liquor on his lips. The kiss was sloppy and hungry. You’d both wanted this for too long to be patient. His fingers weaved through your hair, holding on tightly.

His other hand grabbed your waist. His fingers caressed the silky material of your dress. His mind could only think about how much softer your skin would be under his touch.

You seemingly read his mind. “Go ahead,” you mumbled against his lips. You could feel his lips curve up into a smirk. He slipped his fingers under your short dress, caressing your upper thigh.

He noticed the goosebumps that were covering your legs. It only encouraged him more. His hand slowly moved higher up your thigh.

You whimpered against the kiss. You felt the familiar aching between your legs. You needed his touch like you needed air. “So needy for me, baby,” he said, cockily.

The pet name sent a shiver rolling down your back. You bucked your hips up against nothing. “Please,” you begged him.

He rubbed his thumb across your clothed heat. A small wet patch had formed in your panties. Another whine came out of you.

He quickly pushed your panties to the side and plunged a finger into your folds. You gasped, pulling out of the kiss. Your eyelids softly fluttered closed.

“Oh, fuck,” you mumbled softly. Tyler peppered kisses to your shoulder as you leaned your head back. Your senses were overwhelmed. There wasn’t a single coherent thought in your head. He curled his finger inside of you, making you buck your hips against his hand.

“You want another, sweetheart? Can you handle that?” Tyler asked you. You furiously nodded your head. He could feel his jeans becoming strained as he watched you writhe under his touch.

He added another finger, stretching you out. Your mouth hung open as you adjusted. Your wetness only allowed Tyler to move his fingers quicker. He quickly moved them in and out, watching as your breath quickened.

Your stomach started to tighten. You reached for anything to sink your nails into. Your hand landed on Tyler’s bicep.

He pressed his thumb into your clit. “Tyler,” his name fell effortlessly from his lips. He quickened his pace. Every breath and moan from you made him go faster.

“Cum for me, baby,” he praised you.

He started rubbing circles around your clit. You whined, helplessly grinding your hips down against his hand. You swore you were seeing stars. “Oh fuck, Tyler, I’m gonna—” you swore, biting down your lip.

“Go ahead. Cum on my fingers.” He instructed. Your orgasm hit you. You clenched around his fingers, riding the high. “Tyler, so good,” you mumbled. Your legs were shaking, and you threw your head back against the headrest. He continued pumping his fingers into you.

“That’s it. There you go.” He softly praised you. Tyler’s fingers slowed down, helping you down from your peak. He brushed your hair out of your face and kissed your lips softly.

He wiped his soaked fingers on his jeans. You softly nipped at his bottom lip. His smirk grew again. “What do you think you’re doing, sweetheart?” He asked you.

Instead of answering him, you climbed across the console into his lap. Tyler pulled out of the kiss to watch you, in shock. His eyes were wide at the sight in front of him.

You were straddling his lap. Your skirt was hiked up to your hips while your cum was running down your thigh. Your makeup was smudged. Your lips were swollen. And you looked tired out from your orgasm.

“Hold on, just a second, baby,” he said, quickly sliding his seat all the way back and leaning the chair as far back as it would go.

As soon as you both had more room, you were back all over each other. Tyler’s hands were possessively holding on your hips. You unbuttoned Tyler’s shirt as you kissed him. Feeling the last button come undone, you raked your nails over his bare chest. Tyler groaned into the kiss. Your touch was magic on him.

“Need you,” he mumbled against your lips. You tugged his shirt off his shoulders and threw it in the back seat.

Tyler leaned back as you reached for the hem of your dress. He watched with a cocky smile as you pulled the dress over your head. He’d just been fingers deep in you, but the sight of you in your bra and panties was enough to make him crazy.

“So fuckin’ beautiful, darling,” he practically moaned. He grabbed the back of your neck and pulled you down to kiss him again. Your hands struggled to undo his belt while he unclasped your bra.

Having Tyler’s hands on you had your skin burning. You felt like your skin was on fire, in the best way. You could sense his desperation. His hands explored your body, not wanting to leave any part untouched.

His hands covered you, helping you undo his belt and unzip his jeans. He quickly tugged his jeans down to his knees.

You pulled out of the kiss to take a breath. Tyler buried his face in between your breasts, leaving sloppy kisses and a trail of saliva. He leaned forward, taking one of your nipples into his mouth.

Your eyes rolled back, grasping onto Tyler’s arms. “Need you, Tyler,” you mumbled.

“All you had to do was ask, baby.” He said, tugging down his boxers. His cock spring out, slapping against his stomach. He watched as you practically drooled over him. He brought you back into the moment as he pulled off your panties.

“You want to do this right here? Or you wanna move into the backseat?” He asked you, smirking at your eager expression.

“Right here,” you said. The words came out rushed as you captured his lips in a kiss. He smirked against your lips. “Hang on, sweetheart. If you’re gonna ride me, you’re gonna need this.” He said, grabbing his cowboy hat from the backseat and plopping it on your head. A bashful smile appeared on your face.

You shifted your weight, holding onto Tyler’s shoulders. “Go ahead, cowgirl.” He encouraged you with a wicked smile.

You slowly sunk yourself down onto his length. A low groan escaped Tyler’s lips at the feeling of you wrapped around him. “Fuck, darling,” he moaned, grabbing at your hips. He helped lift you up and let you plunge back down on his cock.

“Oh, Ty— so good,” you mumbled, rolling your hips back into his.

Tyler took a mental picture of you riding him while wearing his hat. He wanted to remember it forever.

With his assistance, you sped up the pace. You were ramming your hips down against his. With each thrust, you could feel Tyler reaching deeper inside you.

“This what you were thinking about with that other guy? Thinking about wrapping your sweet pussy around my cock. You fit perfect. It’s like you were made for me.” Tyler praised you. His comments went straight to your core. Your legs started to shake.

His name fell from your lips. He bucked his hips up to meet yours halfway. “Need to…f-f-faster,” you stuttered, feeling your muscles begin to tighten.

“Don’t worry, I’ll help ya,” he assured you, grabbing a tight hold on your hips. He slammed you down on his cock.

You could feel him brush up against your g-spot. You clenched your eyes shut, a whimper escaping your lips. “That the spot, sweetheart? Don’t worry. I’ll give it the attention it needs.” He said, flipping your body over so he was on top.

“You did so good, honey. But just let me do the work. You focus on cumming for me.” He instructed you.

He braced his leg against the console and started pounding into you. Your legs began to shake. You wrapped your hands around the headrest, your knuckles turning white.

“I’m almost—” you said, breathlessly. The noises bouncing off the truck walls were almost pornographic. You could hear every thrust. From Tyler’s low groans every time you squeezed around his cock to the sound his cock made as it slipped through your wetness.

His hand flew down to your clit, rubbing small tight circles. “Can’t last much longer, darling,” Tyler moaned. You could tell from his erratic thrusts that he was telling the truth. You vision was starting to go white as the muscles in your abdomen contracted.

“Oh, shit. I’m gonna— oh, fuck, Tyler.” You called out as you came around him. Your walls clenched down around his cock, pushing him over the edge. “Oh, fuck,” he groaned, bucking his hips into yours and he came inside you.

He collapsed against you, slowing his pace and bringing you both down from your highs. His sweaty body pressed against yours.

“So, how’s that compare to what you were imagining?” Tyler asked you, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips.

You gasped for breath. “S-so much better,” you mumbled, breathlessly.

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