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hees-mine · 3 months

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𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝗺𝐞 - 𝐋. 𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏𝟒

Pairing: heeseung ⚥ reader

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, oral, angst, crying, cum eating, multiple orgasms, age gap, taboo relationship.

Genre: 18+, best friends dad, smut, single dad, minors do not interact!

WC: 4,024k

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Heeseung’s mind was filled with nothing but you as he stepped on the gas pedal, his heart pumping in his chest at the thought of seeing you again.

The whole way there, he clutched the steering wheel out of anxiousness cause the four wheels on his car couldn’t seem to turn fast enough.

But once he finally got there, he parked on the sidewalk cause two cars had already taken up the lot, which most likely meant your parents were home, and it made this all the more riskier for him.

He had no real way of contacting you, so he sucked in a breath and did the only thing he could do, which was knocking on the door, hoping you would hear it before your parents did. It was quite late, so maybe your parents would be asleep by now.

You had just finished hanging out with Jake after what felt like forever. He did manage to cheer you up a bit, but as soon as he left, it was quiet, leaving you no choice but to linger in the silence of your room with thoughts of a certain someone you shouldn’t even care about anymore.

Your thoughts are interrupted by a few knocks on what sounds like the front door. “Hmm” you squint at the clock wondering who could be here so late but you assumed it was Jake seeing how he just left and figured he might have forgot something so you answered the door without thinking much.

Except it wasn’t Jake, and it was the man you couldn’t take your mind off of for the last few weeks. You gasped upon seeing him standing in front of you, a wave of emotions flowing through you all at once as you stood still.

Heeseung felt like the air got sucked from his lungs when you opened the door. His mouth was open as he searched for words, but nothing came out. He could only stare back at you.

You want to embrace him tell him how much you missed him and you also wanted to slam the door in face so that’s what you did.

Or tried to do.

But he quickly wedged his foot inside, stopping you from closing it. “I’m sorry, y/n. Please let me talk to you.”

You scoff at his words and struggle with him to shut the door. “Just go home before you wake my parents.”

“No, y/n,” he says, way too loud, and you’re sure you both wrestling with the door was just as loud. “I’ll scream if you don’t.”

You look at him through the crack in the door, not believing him until he parts his lips, and you quickly let go of the door.

His hand now rests on the knob, and he opens the door a little more, still not stepping in until you give him permission. “Can I come in, please? I just want to talk to you and explain everything. You deserve at least that much, right?” He pleads desperately.

“Heeseung, there’s nothing to explain. You said what you said, and now it’s over,” you whisper as your shoulders slump down. He can see just how hurt you are, and he feels like punching himself for all the things he’s said and done to you, but he had no choice when he was given an ultimatum by his daughter.

He carefully steps inside on his own accord and closes the door behind him you look at him confused yet curious and when you don’t protest anymore he leads you to your room so he can have his chance to talk more privately when you’re both inside he locks your door and sighs while running his hand through his hair.

You stood there waiting for him to talk. Your weak and pathetic self desperately wanted to hear him out cause somewhere deep in your stupid brain, you wanted him to say that he still loved you, but you know that’s dumb.

You also know that you should have put up more of a fight when it came to him yet you caved so easily and you hated yourself for it.

“Come here,” he whispers and steps closer to you, wrapping his arms around your back. “Hmm, my princess.” he hugs you tightly, relishing the feeling of having you in his arms again.

“Don’t call me that.” You tried to push him away, but it was so weak he barely even moved. His heart broke when you rejected his touch, and seeing you down like this was so hard, especially when he knew it was all his doing.

He tried to hold you again, and you let him. Even after everything he said to you, you still just can’t say no to him.

“I wanna tell you something, okay? Please just try to understand from my point of view,” he whispers in your ear and leans back, smoothing his palms over your head, cradling your delicate face in his hands. “Look at me.” he tilts your chin with his thumb and index finger on his left hand, making you look up at him.

You looked so pretty like this, staring up at him, eyes brimming with tears and curiosity that he hoped he could give you the answer for. “Okay, princess?”

You nod your head, and he smiles out of pure relief that you’re even giving him the time of day or night in his case. “Thank you.” he closes his eyes, kissing the top of your head softly. “I love you.” his hands fell to your lower back, bringing you closer to his body as he caressed your back, hoping that it’d comfort you, and it seemed to work cause you literally melted in his arms. “And I know that sounds like a lie. I know it’s hard to even trust anything I say anymore, but it’s true. All those things about you being a mistake were not true at all. Do you hear me? You could never be a mistake. I just said what I thought would be best. I tried to make you hate me cause I knew after we got caught, we wouldn’t be able to see each other again, and I wanted you to move on and find someone you could actually be with, but if I’m being honest, the weeks without you were like hell,” he takes a deep breath his limbs shaking slightly as he confesses everything praying that you believe him. “I kept reading our texts over and over again, just trying to hang onto what little bit I had left of you that night I saw you at the store. I cried on the way home. I was so ashamed of what I did to you I couldn’t even face you,” his voice cracked, and your first instinct was to comfort him, your arms automatically encircling his thin waist.

“Hee,” you start out.

“I’m not done, baby. I need to give you the full explanation you deserve.” You nod, and he takes that as his sign to continue. “I missed you so much, your warmth, your touch, your voice, everything. I haven’t felt that happy in my whole entire life. You came out of nowhere and blindsided me, striking me with not only your beauty but, more importantly, your love. Nothing could ever compare to the way I felt when I was with you, and at night, when I felt so needy for you, I couldn’t even get myself off cause you weren’t there touching me. I barely even sleep anymore. My life is a mess without you, princess. You have no idea what I’ve been going through. Once, I was the happiest man on the planet, and it all got stripped away from me,” he nuzzled his face in the crook of your neck, squeezing your frame. “I was so busy doing my best to make my daughter not hate me, but in the process, I ended up hating myself for what I have done to you, but now I just want to put myself first. I want to be selfish. I’ll risk everything for you, rather that be getting caught by my daughter or your parents. I don’t care anymore, princess, 'cause you’re worth it. You make me so happy, and you mean the absolute world to me.” he scans your face, and when he sees tears spilling from your eyes, he can’t hold his in anymore.

As good as that all sounded, you still just can’t understand how he thought that was the right decision to make.

“What you thought was best? What about me, heeseung? I’ve sat here crying for you, cutting off all my friends cause I couldn’t even function properly, and now you come here to say what you think is best. You could have tried harder. We could have-“ your voice gives out, and his eyes widen as you start pushing him away, pounding his chest and telling him to go. “Get out. I don’t ever want to see you again. Just go.” You weakly hit him. The blows didn’t even hurt, but he felt so weak that every one sent him stumbling back.

“Y/n, I’m sorry,” he chokes out through tears. “Please believe I'm so sorry.” his back hits the wall, and both of your faces are covered in tears as you stare at one another, your breaths ragged and uneven while the pain in your chests grows rapidly.

Your arms give out, and they rest on his pecs while you cry helplessly. “Heeseung, please tell me you’re serious 'cause I don’t think I can take getting my heart broken again.” You sob quietly into his chest, your emotions all over the place. You hated him for what he did, but you loved him for who he was.

“I promise I’m serious. I was always serious, and I told you I’d do whatever it took to make it work.” he sniffles and holds your waist in his hands. “I’m here now just for you. I know I’m probably breaking so many rules and putting my daughter's trust in me on the line, but I love you, and even if I try to stay away, I can’t because my heart loves you.”

That’s it. That’s all you needed to hear, and your next action shocked him to his core as you roughly gripped his collar and pressed your lips against his. He groans against your lips, immediately squeezing your hips as he tilts his head to kiss you more feverishly. “I never stopped loving you, y/n, and even if you were a mistake, you’re the best one I ever made,” he says breathlessly, and his words make you tremble in his arms, your only support being the collar of his white button-up.

“Me neither, I’ll always love you.” In your state of vulnerability, you confess to him, hands tangling in his hair as you kiss him longer, deeper, and more passionately.

You feel the heat between your legs the longer your warm tongues swirl together in perfect sync.

You moan into his mouth, your hands falling to the buttons on his shirt, quickly undoing them one by one. As soon as it’s open, your hands roam his chest, rubbing and kneading the flesh, making him feel lightheaded from how eager you were to feel his body.

“Are you sure about this?” He rests the back of his head against the wall, chest, heaving eyes nearly all the way shut as he bites on his tingling lip.

“Positive,” you say without a doubt and grab the buckle, unfastening it quicker than his shirt. The only thing separating you from him was the button on his pants and the zipper, but soon enough, that was out of your way as well.

He shrugged his shirt off his shoulders, helping you with your mission to get him naked.

You slipped his slacks down to his ankles, and he messily kicked those off, leaving him in nothing but a pair of grey boxers that outlined the thick tip of his dick perfectly as precum seeped through the front, showing you just how excited he was.

You played with him through his boxers, caressing him up and down a few times until you both had to part from the kiss to take a breather.

You took his hand and led him to your bed, reaching inside his waistband and pulling the material all the way down, gently pushing him on his chest, motioning for him to sit.

You began to lower yourself to your knees, but he was quick to grip your wrist and scoot back on the bed to make room for you so you wouldn’t be uncomfortable on your knees.

He lays back and lets you continue watching as you take his hard cock in your hand and pump it up and down. “Fuck me,” he curses. You haven’t even done anything, and yet your touch had him so sensitive and ready to blow his creamy load.

You stick your tongue out, flattening it and licking his bulbous tip, tasting the salty precum seeping out from his tiny little hole.

“Fuck princess, just like that, missed your pretty little fucking mouth on me,” he groans and holds himself up on his elbows, enjoying the view of you lying prettily between his legs as you start to suck on the tip.

You moan and envelop his length inside your warm, wet mouth, making eye contact with him as you bob your head up and down, taking his shaft deep, deep down your throat inch by inch.

Your hands smooth over his tanned thighs, nails digging in slightly while you gag around his cock.

“Oh yeah fuck baby, keep going. Take it all in, gag on it for me,” he says enticingly.

You grant his wish, taking it all the way in and choking on his tip every time it reaches the back of your throat.

“Dirty little thing sucking me off right next to your parent's room,” he smirks. “Could only imagine what they would think.”

You clench from the obscenity of his words. You hate how bad it turns you on. You knew you shouldn’t be doing this next to your parents, but you needed him so badly right now.

“Knowing their precious little princess of a daughter was doing such vile things to a man they never even met” he bucks his hips slightly fucking the back of your throat as you suck him off like it’s the last time you’ll ever get to do so.

You moan around his thick cock, drool spilling past your stretched lips, coating his balls with an unholy about of stringy saliva, and the wet sounds that followed after were nothing but filthy.

“You want sir to cum in your mouth?” You nod deliriously, eyes crossed and rolled back into your head as a gush of wetness leaks from your pulsing cunt.

Without a word, you feel him twitching violently. Seconds later, hot seed gushes into your awaiting mouth, and you gag around him again, milking his cum with the tight convulsions of your throat till he empties himself inside your mouth.

“Fuck” he whispers, hand cupping his mouth to keep quiet while you suck him through his high he falls back on the bed, eyes rolling back and body twitching with the last bit of his orgasm. It’s been so long since he had cum, and this was like nothing he’s ever felt before he filled your mouth with so much cum you nearly couldn’t swallow it all.

You sucked, slurped, and licked everything till you were sure not a drop was left, and he was completely satisfied. You even wiped the corners of your lips for good measure.

“Get over here,” he says hoarsely, pulling you up to his chest and spreading his legs so you can rest between them. “You make me feel so good,” he whispers softly and pulls you in for a kiss, hands gripping your ass and guiding your waist to rub your soaked pussy on his shaft. He could feel your wetness even through your shorts and underwear, which made him hard all over again.

He yanks your bottoms down in one go, his fingers running through your sloppy folds instantly.

“Ahh, s-sir.” You shudder at the feeling. You were so sensitive from not being touched all this time that even just the little bit he was doing felt so good.

“Love when you call me that” he moves his head to place kisses on your neck, licking your jawline as he presses a finger in your pussy, teasing just past the entrance.

You rock back on his finger, taking it deeper inside you. “Feels so good,” you grind desperately on the single digit, wetting it with your arousal.

“Want another?” He breathes out into your neck, nipping on your skin.

“Yes, sir,” he quickly obliges, adding another finger to stretch you out.

“Little princess, taking my fingers with ease.” he squeezes your waist as you roll your hips faster, riding just his fingers.

You press your face into the pillow next to his head, whimpering nonstop in his ear as your juices run down his wrist.

“You sound so pretty,” he says, opening his mouth and kissing your neck sensually.

“Sir, more,” you whine while weakly lifting your hips and growing tired from the pleasure his thick fingers provide.

He accompanies his fingers with a third one that slips in with ease from how wet and worked up you are.

You quickly shake your head and lean back, your face flushed, sweaty, and desperate for more. “Need your cock, sir” he doesn’t need to be told twice. He slips his fingers out of you and easily turns you over so he can hover over you.

“Spread your legs open for sir wide open” his cock jumps at the taste of you as he licks his fingers clean of your sticky wetness while staring at your little aching cunt.

You do as he says. Your shorts and panties dangle from your right ankle, and he slips them off the rest of the way, his hand gripping the hem of your shirt and lifting it over your head with some assistance from you. “So fucking perfect,” he hums at the sight of seeing you braless and takes your breasts in his hands, cupping them and fiddling with your sensitive nipples.

Your back arches off the bed, your hole opening, and closing around nothing, waiting for something to fill it.

He sits on his knees, adjusting your legs around his waist, and he takes his engorged girth running it along your soaking cunt. “Sir, I can’t wait a-any longer,” you whine, feeling like you’re on the verge of tears.

“Okay, my princess,” he guided his tip to your hole, pushing it past the tight opening, invading your warm walls with his thick, heavy length.

“Yes!” You drawl out, sucking him all the way inside you, and you don’t even realize how loud you’re being until he tells you.

“Quiet princess,” he says through a whimper, gripping your thighs as he rocks back and forth, setting a soft pace. “Feels so good dreamt about this creamy little pussy so many times you have no idea.”

He bottoms out and stays still to feel your fluttering walls pulse around him. He fits in you so perfectly, so warm and snug on his dick. “N-not as much as I dreamt about you,” you stutter out, your walls burning from how well he stretched you open. You’ve been thinking about this feeling for so long, and to finally have it felt like nothing short of heaven.

“Is that so?” He smirks down at you and starts moving again, massaging your cunt with his cock nice and deep. “What about?”

“Everything,” you whine, reaching out to hold his waist as he rolls his hips.

“More specific,” he groans and grips your soft breast in one hand, the other strumming against your soft thigh.

“Thought about you, your touch,” you moan, feeling breathless as he fastens his pace, your words fueling him to go faster and faster, creating a white ring of precum at the base of his cock.

“Hmm, mm, and what else?” He whispers the tip of his tongue, swiping across his bottom lip while he squeezes your breast.

“How good it feels when your dick is deep inside me” You press your fingertips into his sweaty flesh, little pink marks forming on his flushed skin.

“That’s my princess thinking about sir even while he’s away. Tell me, love, does it feel good right now? While my dick is deep inside you.”

You quiver from his words feeling even more turned on than you ever had before. “Yes” you mewl.

“Yes, what?” He prods even though he can see it’s difficult for you to speak right now cause the way he’s fucking his dick so good into your pussy.

“Yes sir,” you squeeze around him so tight, and his pace falters for a second.

“God baby, you must really miss me. You’re sucking me in so tight and deep. Your little cunt is begging for this cream” his lewd words make your eyes roll back into your skull, and he smirks at you as you try your hardest to process the pleasure. “You’re so close, huh? Wanna cum on this big dick that you missed so much? Go ahead, princess, let go, cream all over sir's cock the way you’ve been dreaming of” he barely even gets to touch your clit, and you're coming undone, pulsating around him and coating him in your cum.

“Cumming” you scream out a warning, but it’s too late. He can already feel your pussy creaming desperately for him.

“Shush princess, can’t have you waking up your parents” he digs into your hip, speeding up his thrusts, your wet cunt welcoming him in with no resistance. The slide was so slick, warm, and inviting for his dripping cock. “Fuck you’re so fucking sexy,” he huffs out, his thighs violently clapping against your ass as his big dick overstimulates you turning you into a whining mess. “You want them to hear how good sir fucks you? Hmm? That’s far too dirty, baby. Only I get to hear you sound so pretty like this, okay?” You nod, and he cups a hand over your mouth, really picking up the pace, his hips jerking desperately so he can reach his orgasms, and when he feels you cum around him again, he can’t contain himself stilling inside you, and releasing deep into your cunt as his tip bumps your sensitive cervix. “God,” he groans, starting to move again but very slowly and gently. As you ride out your highs together, the wet sounds of him fucking his cum into you were just the icing on the cake. “You’re so perfect” he breathes out dribbles of cum, still leaking from his tip and getting lost inside you as he collapses on top of you, his sweaty chest pressed against yours, your racing hearts matching the rhythm of each other. “I love you much,” he kisses your shoulder.

“I love you too, hee.” You cuddle up next to him, needing to feel his comforting warmth after everything you two had just done.

He envelopes you, hugging you close and nuzzling his face against yours, whispering all the reassuring words you need to hear.

Once you both calm down a bit, he props himself up, pecking your lips sweetly. “What time do your parents wake up?” He asked while stroking your cheek biting his lip to hold back his smile but failing.

“6:30. Why?” You hum, pressing your face into his palm more than it already was.

“Cause I wanted to stay with you as long as possible.” he pecks your lips again. “I’ll leave at 6:00 then,” he decides. “Now get some rest, princess, and don’t worry about a thing, okay?”

“Okay,” you whisper, and your eyes slowly fall shut, and you can rest assured, knowing that this isn’t the last time.

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bookyeom · 4 months

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pairing: vernon x reader word count: 3.7k warnings: angst (she did it y’all!!!!), swearing, kissing, wet!vernon

Author’s Note: this fic is part of the Thirteen Valentines event, but can be read as a standalone! also, i would suggest listening to the song listed below to get a feel for the vibe of the fic, but it’s not necessary. Happy Birthday, Bononie!

kissing in swimming pools by holly humberstone

do you think we were made to last in the coldest of weather? maybe i don’t have to leave so soon you look heavenly in this shade of blue

Vernonie [8:48pm]: finally back from dinner

Vernonie [8:49pm]: everyone’s gone btw, so i’ll come get u now?

Y/N [8:51pm]: yeye! Just text when ur outside

You hear his car before you see it.

His parents must have kept his old, beat-up car from high school for when he came back for the summer, you muse, and it makes you smile. You’d spent a lot of time in that car, listening to whatever new indie band Vernon had “discovered” that week, or eating take-out in the department store parking lot after hours, or your personal favourite: with the engine shut off at the lookout Vernon had discovered on his way home from work one day, tucked away from most of the world as the two of you reclined in his car seats and looked at the night sky.

You used to wonder if it was there that you fell in love with him, but the truth is that you loved him long before he showed up at your door at 1am, eyes wide with excitement over his new discovery, and brought you there in your pajamas.

You still have the hoodie he’d leant you that night in the closet of your childhood bedroom.

Tonight, you shut the door quietly behind you out of habit, twisting the knob so it doesn’t make a sound. You’re long past the days of sneaking out, but your muscle memory won’t quit.

It’s been eight months since you last saw Vernon. You only came home for two days at Christmas, claiming you couldn’t take that much time off from your part time job, and had managed to avoid him. You had still needed the space from him, then. December had only marked four months since he’d broken your heart, and you weren’t sure at the time if you’d ever be able to look him in the eye again.

The months after Christmas break had finally begun to heal you. Your new semester had started, and you had decided to dive headfirst into both academic and social endeavors instead of wallowing away in your dorm room. You’d finally made new friends, your grades had improved, and while it still hurt to see his name when it popped up across your social media platforms, it wasn’t all you thought about anymore.

Right now, you kind of can’t wait to see him.

“Hi,” you say, breathless, and when Vernon meets your eyes, you know you’re not breathless because of the jog from your front door to his car.

He looks good. His hair is a bit longer, curling at the ends and falling softly across his forehead, and you think his shoulders have filled out. His jaw is just as sharp, eyelashes just as long, and you immediately wonder how you’d gone so long without him.

“Hi, stranger,” he says, and you’re terrified that the sound of his voice might tear you apart — but it doesn’t. You hold firm, despite the sound of your heartbeat roaring loud in your ears. It hurts, but it’s a dull ache instead of the sharp pain you’re used to. Seeing him sends a wave of relief through you instead of the dread you’d been half expecting, and you can feel the tension in your chest ease just the slightest bit. You can do this. Because it’s Vernon, and because life sucks without him.

You stare at each other for a few moments, and then he raises an eyebrow as if in a challenge, and you can’t help it. You break into a smile, and then you’re surging across the middle console and pulling him in for a hug. He laughs against your neck, and you know he’s just as happy to see you as you are him. The hand that was on the steering wheel finds your back, and your eyes fall shut.

“I missed you,” you say honestly, and you swear you can feel him exhale.

“Yeah,” he says before squeezing you tight, once. Brief, but enough for you to feel it, to understand, as he adds, “Me too.”

You pull back. Vernon puts the car into drive as you click on your seatbelt, and you fall into an easy, comfortable silence as he begins to make the familiar way back to his place.

When you texted him a few weeks ago, your hands trembling but determined, you hadn’t been sure what he would say. You hadn’t spoken in months.

For a while, you didn’t think you’d ever get over the rejection of last August, but a year away at university had done you good. It was full of distractions; you’d even had a couple of flings here and there. Vernon had texted you a bit at first, because you’d insisted that you were fine, but it had hurt to see his name show up on your phone. You had responded slowly, using any and all excuses to explain away the days that passed without you answering. You’d texted sparingly throughout the year on birthdays and holidays, and you knew he watched your stories the same as you watched his. You knew he knew the real reason why you were distant, but he never pushed. After all, he’d broken your heart, not the other way around.

Eventually, you had recognized that the distance was helping, and conversations between the two of you had become even more sparse after that. It had been hard — one of the hardest things you’d ever had to do — but you’d needed the space. So when his response to your text a few weeks ago had come quickly and enthusiastically, a Vernon-esque “bet :)” in response to your ask to hang out when you got home for the summer, you had been so relieved that you’d cried. Though you’d known he would never hate you, deep down a small part of you had still been afraid that you’d pushed him away for good.

The silence in the car tonight is comfortable, and you’re grateful. Vernon is tapping in tune to the beat on his steering wheel while you hum along in quiet contentment. After a couple of songs that you recognize play in a row, you turn to him in surprise.

“Is this the playlist I made you for your birthday two years ago?”

Vernon simply nods, eyes on the road as he makes a turn. “Yeah.”

“Oh.”

Vernon laughs. “Am I not supposed to listen to it?”

“Just surprised me, that’s all.”

”Okay, weirdo.”

The conversation moves on, but you don’t forget about it, even as you pull up to Vernon’s childhood home.

It looks almost exactly the same. You follow Vernon up the steps and to the front door, through the foyer and to the kitchen where you used to help his mom prep for their summer barbecues. He tosses you a bottle of water wordlessly before he’s slipping out the back door without warning, and you trail behind without question. His peculiar mannerisms don’t faze you, even after all this time apart, and that realization brings you a warm sort of comfort.

As soon as you step through the back door and into the warmth of the summer evening air again, you can’t help but smile. This, too, remains unchanged. The heated pool with its blue and white tiled sides; the metal table with its umbrella, a single tip bent out of shape so that it sags just in one small part; the overgrown trees whose leaves spill over the sides of the wooden fence. You’d spent many days and nights here, too.

You join Vernon, who’s already sitting on the edge of the pool with his legs hung over the sides.

“Damn, you didn’t waste any time, Sol.” The nickname falls out before you can stop it. It’s been so long since you’ve been around him, since you’ve even let yourself think of him as anything other than Vernon. If he notices your slip up, he doesn’t say.

”It’s hot out,” he points out, simple. “Why wait?” He takes a swig of his own water bottle, and you’re smiling again.

You join him without further comment.

Quiet settles between the two of you again, which would be fine if you weren't suddenly itching to ask him a million questions. How was his first year of university? How are his parents, his sister? Is his favourite food still carne asada tacos? Does he still only own t-shirts and jeans? Is he… seeing anyone?

Is he happy?

Had he really missed you?

“I’ll be right back.”

You’re surprised when Vernon gets up, barely missing you with the water he sends splashing as he does. But you don’t question him, your legs swinging back and forth in the water. You watch the underwater lights distort in the ripples you make, distracted by the simple movements and your racing thoughts. When you hear him re-emerge, you turn to find him with two towels in hand. Your eyes widen and you frantically shake your head.

“I didn’t bring a bathing suit, Vernon.” And I am not getting into that pool with you in just my underwear.

He pulls something out from under one of the towels, and you recognize it as one of his favourite band tees that he’s had for years. He raises his eyebrows at you, eyes twinkling in a teasing challenge, and you narrow your eyes at him. The smile on his face briefly sends you reeling back — back to before that night last summer when everything changed. Back to when he was just your best friend who liked to tease you for fun, who brought you your favourite ice cream every movie night, who took you to your high school graduation dance even though you knew he would have rathered gouge his eyes out with a spoon.

Back to when you were in love with him, but he didn’t know yet.

“Fine,” you say. “I’ll get in.”

He grins, and your chest does a little flip-flop. You forcefully ignore it as you take the shirt from his outstretched hand. He turns around to give you privacy, and you keep your eyes on his turned back as you remove everything except your underwear and his shirt. Though he’s grown up now and wears things that fit him better — you had noticed the bomber jacket in his backseat, and the t-shirt he’s wearing that fits him just right — he used to love things that were three sizes too big. The old, worn shirt just brushes your thighs, but you don’t have time to think anymore about it when he moves to pull his own shirt up and over his head.

You watch the muscles in his back contract, and you swallow. Don’t go down this road again, you tell yourself. It’s just going to hurt like hell.

If you’re honest with yourself, you’re starting to wonder if you’d ever really strayed from that path in the first place.

Because when he turns back to you with raised eyebrows and a smile, when he pulls you with him by the hand, it hits you with as much force as the cool water you jump into. And when you resurface and your eyes find him already looking back at you, his hair sticking up every which way and water dripping from his lashes down onto his cheeks, it hits you again.

That you don’t know if there will ever be anyone else for you but him.

You turn away from him, running your hands through your hair, trying desperately to keep your cool. You feel like you’re being punched in the stomach, like that sharp pain you’d felt since last August had never left. You thought you were ready to see him again, and you had been so, so wrong.

You can feel all those months of mending, of trying desperately to get over your feelings for him so you could have him back in your life — you can feel them as they slip away.

“I’m sorry,” was all he’d said that night, and your heart had shattered into a thousand pieces. You could tell through blurry eyes that he was hurting, too, because he loved you, you knew he did. Just not like that. He hadn’t said anything else, even though it looked like he wanted to, and you just didn’t understand. You thought for sure that he felt the same, because he’d kissed you back, because you knew him just as well as he knew you.

And it really felt like you’d healed. Just an hour ago, you’d even been excited to see him again.

You will yourself to breathe.

“Hey. I’m sorry I pulled you in with me.”

You don’t respond.

“Are you okay?”

You don’t answer as his voice breaks through your racing thoughts, your back still turned to him.

“…Y/N?”

He sounds concerned, like he cares. You know he does — know that he always has. And it hurts.

You can feel the water moving behind you when you still don’t respond. You can feel it as he takes a step or two closer, and you can almost imagine the look on his face as he tries to figure out what he did wrong. You feel like you’ve been burned when he reaches for you, when his hand tries to find your arm to turn you back to him. You can hear his inhale when you flinch away, your skin on fire where his fingertips just barely brushed your shoulder.

He tries again, because he loves you. Because he loves you — but not like that. “Talk to me?”

Your eyes squeeze shut, and you take a deep breath. You know you have to face him in order to get through this, to leave here in one piece even if it’s by pretending. You have to. You don’t want him to know, don’t want him to know that you’re still the reason you can’t be close to him, that you still love him, that you probably never stopped.

But when you turn to find him right there, find him so close, when you see that his eyes are full of worry, you can’t find a single word. He looks beautiful in the dim blue light of the pool, and it makes your heart ache.

“Y/N.” Your name is nothing but a whispered breath as he says it, his eyes locked so intently on your face that you suddenly feel warm all over despite the slight chill of the water. His gaze pierces through you, and you watch as it travels across your face, down to your lips, where it lingers.

You’re not sure you’re breathing, not sure what to do, not sure how to possibly move on from what feels impossible. Why isn’t he moving away? Why is he so close?

“I…” He tries again, eyes still on your mouth. Then he snaps his gaze up again. “I’m… I’m really happy that you’re here.”

Your eyebrows furrow. “You…”

“I missed you.” He looks hesitant before he says it, but he says it anyway, and your breath catches when you hear the tender, soft tone of his voice. It makes your head spin. “I really missed you. So much.”

You take a steadying breath at the same time as he does. The air between you feels charged — charged with something you won’t let yourself name.

Then he’s stepping even closer, a hand lifting to your face, and you freeze. You can’t move — you don’t even know if you want to. You’re confused, but you don’t move, and all you can manage to say is a single word.

“Sol,” you caution.

He takes a deep breath in, and then he says, “You haven’t thought about it?”

His hand is gentle on your jaw, thumb tracing lines back and forth across your skin. You feel goosebumps everywhere he touches. Your eyes search his, trying desperately to understand. You hate that you’re finding him extra hard to read right now — now, when you need to know what he’s thinking more than ever.

“Thought about what?” Your voice is small, and you hate it.

Vernon’s other hand lifts to your face, tilting your chin up towards him. His eyes search yours as he speaks, his voice low. “Last summer.” He pauses. “Us.”

The words hit you like a truck.

“What the fuck, Vernon?” You finally manage. You can feel the tears begin to well up, and you pull his hands away from your face. “Don’t you dare.”

He takes a step back, eyebrows knit together. “I’m sorry.”

You stare at him incredulously, frustration bubbling to the surface the longer you look at him. “Don’t be an asshole.”

He doesn’t say anything else, and all you can hear is the water gently hitting against the side of the pool. You frustratedly tuck a lock of wet hair behind your ear before crossing your arms.

“Why would you say that to me?” You’re hurt, and he knows it.

“I just…” He searches your face for a moment before he breathes out, “I think about you all the time. I miss you all the time.”

You can feel angry tears pricking at the back of your eyelids. You blink them away rapidly as you spit out, “You were the one who kissed me back and then pretended like nothing happened. You—“

“Would you have gone?”

You blink when he interrupts you, and it takes you a second to try and understand what he means. You wrack your brain, trying to figure out what the fuck he’s talking about. “What?”

“Would you have gone to school there if I had told you I loved you last summer? Or would you have chosen somewhere closer?”

You’re absolutely dumbfounded as you process what he’s saying. You’re blinking away furious tears, mouth agape as you try and settle on something to say. “Was that your fucking choice to make?”

“I was trying to make it easier for you. It’s your dream school.”

You can’t believe what you’re hearing. “What the fuck? I was in love with you, Vernon!”

“I was in love with you, too!”

The silence is deafening. You stare at him with wide eyes, your heart threatening to beat out of your chest. You wonder if he can hear it. Then you squeeze your eyes shut, your hands lifting to cover your face as you try and regain your composure.

“I thought I was doing what was best for the both of us.”

His voice is quiet. You know he’s telling the truth. It hurts, but you know he’s being honest. That he thought he was doing the right thing.

“I thought that maybe the distance would make it a little easier,” he continues, voice carrying softly across the water in the space between you. “But it didn’t. Not for me.”

Moments pass, and you realize you’re shaking. Your hands stay covering your face as you take deep breaths, waiting until you’ve recovered enough to say, voice low, “I have never been more upset with you than I am right now.”

He’s quiet for a moment before he responds. “I know, and I deserve it. I’m sorry that I made that decision for you. I really am. I shouldn’t have done it.”

You nod after a minute, after you force yourself to breathe, letting your hands fall from your face. You can’t look at him, though, eyes instead focusing on your fingers that begin tracing patterns in the water at your sides. “Okay.”

“And I'm…” He trails off, and you wait. He takes so long that you look up to find him looking at you, waiting, and something in his eyes has you stuck there. He searches your face, and then he says, “I’m sorry that I made you think that I don’t love you back. Because of course I do.”

Your heartbeat has begun to roar in your ears again. “You do, present tense?”

Vernon freezes, eyes wide. He opens and closes his mouth a few times before he finally settles on something. “Shit. Sorry, fuck, I—”

“Is that a yes?”

He inhales sharply. “Yeah — yes. I don’t expect anything from you, though. I promise I’m not —“

“You are such a fucking idiot.”

He doesn’t hesitate. “I know. I know. I’m—”

“I spent so long figuring out how to put myself back together,” you say softly, and he cuts himself off. You can feel tears pricking at the back of your eyelids again. “Without you.”

Vernon’s shoulders sag, and he nods, looking down at the water. “Yeah.”

Your breath catches before you steady yourself and you say, “It’s literally always been you, Sol. Even though you’re a fucking idiot.”

His eyes are wide when they shoot back up to meet yours. You inhale a shaky breath, watching as he waits, unsure.

“It’s still you,” you add quietly, and you’re certain that you hear his breath catch.

“I’m in love with you,” he breathes out before you can say anything else. “I love you back. I did then, and I do now, and I’m sorry I didn’t say it before. I wanted to, I swear. I’m sorry that I hurt you. I’m…” He trails off, a hand running through his hair as he finishes, “I’m just really fucking sorry.”

“I believe you,” you say softly, because you do. You believe him, and you’re not sure your heart has ever beat this fast. Because he loves you — the same way that you love him. Vernon looks down at the water again, and you think you can see the faintest hint of a blush on his cheeks as he thinks. “Sol?”

Your soft voice makes him look up. He still looks uncertain, like he doesn’t know what he’s allowed to do.

“Come here?”

You’re in his arms so fast you can barely process. He’s hugging you so tight against his chest that you can feel the warmth of him through your wet t-shirt, and it sends shivers down your spine. He doesn’t say anything else as he holds you, and neither do you. Your arms are wound around his neck, and you can feel the way his nose nuzzles into the crook of your shoulder.

You pull back, your hands finding either side of his face. He blinks, slowly, taking in every part of you in the same way that you’re taking in every part of him. You brush away a stray drop of water that falls from his hair down onto his forehead, and you’re certain you’re dreaming. He’s so beautiful, a perfect juxtaposition of sharp edges and soft lines, so… Vernon.

And he’s gazing at you like you hung all the stars in the sky — because he loves you, in the same way that you love him.

For the second time in a year, you kiss him first.

A/N: thank you so much to everyone for all the love on the other fics so far :) Here’s the sixth of our Thirteen Valentines in honour of Bononie’s birthday. Please please please reblog if you can to spread the word, and check out the Thirteen Valentines masterlist! If you want to be added to the taglist, send me a message :) Your kind comments and reblogs don’t go unnoticed, I promise.

Taglist: @waldau @wqnwoos @tae-bebe @gyuminusone@savventeen @eoieopda @minisugakoobies @wheeboo @lvlystars@darkypooo @christinewithluv @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @bella-l (Strikethrough means it wouldn’t let me tag you, sorry!)

#Vernon x reader #vernon angst #vernon fluff #vernon x you #seventeen x reader #seventeen x you #vernon imagine #seventeen imagine #seventeen angst #seventeen fluff #thirteenvalentines #my writing #chsfic

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golden-cherry · 1 year

Text

deal - cl16 (3/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: Charles takes you on an adventure, that you won't forget that easily.

Warnings: angst (talks about Charles dad), comfort, google translated French

Word Count: 3.4k

series masterlist

previous part

A/N: part 3! hope you enjoy it! feedback is appreciated!

Sitting on the passenger side of your own car is strange.

It doesn't feel completely wrong, but still, a queasy feeling spreads through you. Like when you lived with your parents. Whenever someone was visiting, your mom had said, "Just sit anywhere," and of course the guests didn't know that you had an unassigned assigned seat. And when they actually sat down in your seat and you couldn't sit in yours, you had the same feeling as you do now at this moment.

After you dressed for the weather, you grabbed your car keys and your camera. If Charles was actually taking you to the most beautiful viewpoint in the country, then maybe you could snap some pictures for your private Instagram account. Your little private photo album. With no followers, no obligations.

Charles car is at his primary residence, according to his statement. Except for a few cars, the underground garage where your car is parked is empty. Your roommate insisted on driving because, first, you don't know where the trip is going and, second, he doesn't want to tell you where to go. Grumpily, you threw him the key and he caught it with a grin.

Then Charles made himself comfortable in the driver's seat of your old Renault as if it were his birthright. Right hand on the wheel, left elbow on the door and head propped on his hand, he maneuvers you through the streets of Monaco. Black sunglasses sit on his nose and the radio plays a pop song that somehow gets played every time you get in the car. Charles whistles along with the rhythm.

You turn in his direction. "Are you going to tell me where exactly we're going?"

Instead of answering you, he just shakes his head briefly. He runs a hand through his brown hair once, whistling merrily along.

You roll your eyes and rub your forehead.

Not only did you just get in the car with a stranger - to be fair, it's your car and Charles isn't a stranger (anymore) - but he actually won't tell you where he's going. "Like I said, we're going to the most beautiful view," is all he replies.

You've looked it up. According to Google, there are about fifteen lookouts. And each of them is supposed to be the "most beautiful view in Monaco," according to the websites. You looked up the locations on Google Maps, but none of them are in the direction you're heading. Maybe he's trying to kill you after all.

"I haven't driven a real stick shift car in ages." Charles wraps his big hand around the gearshift knob to shift into the next gear. His bracelets slide from his forearm to his wrist as he does so. Without much jerking and very smoothly, you move forward.

You raise an eyebrow. "So you only drive automatic cars?"

Charles shakes his head. "My personal car - the one that's at my other apartment - is an automatic. The company car I drive is manual." His hand moves from the shift knob back to the steering wheel. His long fingers grip the worn, dark leather.

"So what do you prefer to drive?"

He shrugs. "I like both."

You purse your lips and look out the window. You drive past small boutiques whose clothes you could never afford, and see cars whose insurance per month is sure to exceed your former annual salary. But this is nothing new to you. This is Monaco, after all. "I've never driven an automatic car before."

Charles glances over at you for a moment. "Really?" You shake your head. "It's kind of like riding a bumper car. Two pedals, gas and brake." He has to grin. "But if you ever drive automatic, please don't crash into other road users."

"Haha."

Charles drives the car out of town. The view out the window changes from old houses, whose architecture enchants you every time, to rocks and trees. By now, a quiet song is playing on the radio, Charles has stopped whistling, and somehow you're enjoying sitting here, next to your roommate, who wants to show you new, exciting things.

It's been ages since you've been introduced to something completely new.

The brunette turns off the main road onto a path that you would have missed yourself. It's not paved, which is why the car jolts quite a bit as you drive along. Trees and bushes line the path, and it is so narrow that it would be quite difficult if another car were to come towards you. If you were driving, you would have peed your pants for sure.

But not Charles. He drives as if he were driving this route every day. He knows where there are big rocks that he has to drive around to avoid damaging your car - which wouldn't be so dramatic - and also where he has to countersteer to avoid driving over potholes deeper than the Mariana Trench.

When he stops after a few minutes, he turns off the car. Then he turns to you and takes off his sunglasses. "I know this place looks pretty shady, and I can understand if you don't trust me. But if you get out of here with me now, I promise you, you won't regret it." He pulls the key out of the ignition. "Unfortunately, we can't get any further here by car. That's why we have to continue on foot for a short while. If you want."

You took a leap of faith when you decided to drive here with him. And he didn't try to kill you last night. That's a big plus. And that's why you hold out your hand to him without giving it much thought. "As long as I can have the key."

A smile spreads across his face as he drops it into your hand. "Let's do it, then."

Charles wasn't lying - it's actually not a long walk. You walk side by side in silence, the key held tightly in your hand. There's not a whole lot of sunlight shining down on you through the trees, and you regret not taking a thicker jacket. You didn't expect it to be so cold in the shade.

And then you arrive. At the most beautiful view in Monaco.

You're standing on a small hill that can't be seen from the main road. There is a single tree here, which is why the sun can shine relentlessly on you despite the winter, warming the skin on your face. You take a few steps forward, not realizing that Charles is not following you as you take in the view.

From here, from this beautiful spot, you can actually overlook all of Monaco. The houses, the yachts, the luxury for which this country is famous. But you don't only see the typical postcard Monaco. You also see the green of the forests, small blue bays of the Côte d'Azur, which you have never seen - neither in reality nor on the Internet - and the Mediterranean Sea, which stretches out in front of you and whose sound you can hear despite the distance.

You feel Charles next to you, but can't tear your gaze away from the view. "It's..." You can't think of a suitable word to describe what you're looking at. None of the million words, both in English and the few in French, would do it justice.

"I know." His voice rings softly in your ears. "Shall we sit down?"

You settle down near the tree. The meadow is dry - thank goodness - as you sit down cross-legged, facing each other. For a few minutes, you enjoy the view in silence until Charles interrupts.

"My father showed me this spot when I was little." He plucks a few tufts of grass from the ground. "He liked to come down here when the world down there" - with a nod of his head, he points to beautiful Monaco - "got too stressful for him. Or too noisy. Or just too much." He smiles faintly. "With three young sons who liked to mess with each other, I can't blame him."

You watch as he grinds a few blades of grass between his index finger and thumb until they trickle down in small pieces. "Then he's lucky you're all grown up now."

Charles lips pucker into a thin line and he lets the remaining grass fall to the ground. He folds his hands in his lap and looks toward Monaco. Even though he has his sunglasses on, you can see he closes his eyes. He takes a deep breath. "My father died when I was nineteen."

You don't know how to respond. You're glad Charles keeps talking. "Aside from my mother, he was the best and kindest person I know. He saw something good in everyone, even if they didn't deserve it. He..." Charles swallows the lump in his throat. "He always pushed me to be better, but always brought me back down to earth when I took off. He was never disappointed in me, ever."

You have to smile. "Sounds like a wonderful man."

Charles nods. "He was." He looks back down at his hands. "I miss him every day."

It's strange to hear someone talk about their parents like that when your own are the complete opposite. You can't remember your parents ever being proud of you. Their disappointment and criticism were your constant companions, which is why you couldn't wait to finally move out. And you haven't looked back since.

"I like to come here when I'm stuck. When I'm stuck in a situation where I wish I could ask him for advice. Or I'm feeling lonely." A faint smile returned to his face. "I may not get an answer here, but somehow - I don't know - I don't feel quite so alone anymore when I'm here."

You don't know what to say to him. You've known each other for less than twenty-four hours, were at each other's throats yesterday, and yet he's confided something so intangibly private to you, while you've been nothing but skeptical of him. Charles has revealed himself to you, laid bare some of his cards, made himself vulnerable. And he did so without much hesitation.

"You don't have to tell me who called you. Or whatever that person screwed up. But if you need to talk to someone, I'm here for you." He takes the sunglasses off his nose so he can really look at you, and hangs them on the collar of his sweater. The green of the woods behind you is beautiful, but nothing can compete with the green of his eyes. "That's what friends are for, after all."

You have to smile. "Are we?" You point your index finger at the distance between you. "Friends?"

You feel your question is justified. After all, your "friends" dropped you after ... after everything that happened.

Charles shrugs. "If that's what you want. After all, we live together. Of course, I don't want to force you into it, nor could I. You'd sooner smack me with a rolled-up magazine. I just think it's almost impossible for us not to become friends."

He is right. The apartment is not very big and there is no way you could avoid each other. Especially since you don't have any obligations anymore, no job to go to every day. You'll be hanging out at home all the time and you'll definitely spend all your time next to each other, as long as Charles has nothing to do either.

That you two will become friends is inevitable.

One look at Charles and you'll throw all worries out the window. Charles, who lets you live in his apartment. Charles, who lets you have the bedroom. Charles, who can cook incredibly well. And Charles, who takes you to the most beautiful place, even though it means so much to him.

He looks at you in surprise as you pull the car key out of your jacket pocket and toss it to him. Surprised, he catches it. "I guess I won't need to lock the bedroom door then, will I?"

Charles grins. "I promise not to kill you while you're sleeping." With his index finger, he makes a cross over where his heart beats in his chest. "I might try it when you're awake, though." He winks at you.

Your grin widens. "Luckily, there are still some magazines lying around at home that I can use to defend myself. Just please don't do it when I'm only wearing a towel. That would be an unfair fight."

Charles laughs. He laughs even though he has just expressed one of his deepest feelings and this place reminds him of someone he loved and lost. Even though he's poured his heart out to you. And yet he's sitting there, cross-legged, in front of you, and he's got his head thrown back and he's laughing so loud you're afraid he can be heard all the way to Monte-Carlo.

And good heavens - it's the most beautiful sound you've heard in a long time.

For a moment longer, you enjoy the moment. Despite the call and Charles past, a lightness has spread through you that you haven't felt in ages. The worries have not fallen off your shoulders, but they are no longer so heavy and you would like to thank Charles for that. But as soon as you can open your mouth, he's on his feet in front of you again, looking down at you.

"I didn't promise you too much, did I?" Confused, you look at him. "I mean, about the view."

You shake your head and stand up as well. Side by side, you gaze down at Monaco. "It's the perfect postcard view."

Charles watches you while you take some photos with your camera. You try to take a good picture from every angle, from every position, and as far as you can tell from the small display, some of the shots don't turn out too badly. When you turn around, Charles is standing right behind you.

"If you need another model," he puts his hands on his hips, "I'll volunteer."

You laugh. "Absolutely not. Or I'll get a crack in the lens."

He pushes his bottom lip forward and pouts. "Okay, wow. I'm going to take that personally. Then don't." He's about to turn away from you when you manage to grab the sleeve of his sweater. He glances briefly at where your fingers are gripping the fabric, and unsure, you let go.

"All right. One photo." You raise your camera. Charles tries to get a decent stance, puts his hands in his pockets, then decides against it, crosses his arms in front of his chest, drops them again, runs his hands through his hair. "You'll have to stand in style for me to take a decent picture."

A slight blush creeps onto his cheeks. "What exactly do you want me to do? What would you like?"

You smile at him. "Relax. This isn't a professional shoot, after all." You lower the camera again. "You said you have two brothers. What's the funniest thing you've been through together?"

Charles thinks for a moment and starts to grin. As he tells you about a Christmas when Arthur had been in charge of dessert but unfortunately switched sugar for salt, making the food inedible, you snap a photo of him. His smile is wide, a dimple adorns his cheek, and the wind ruffles his hair. You don't need to snap another. This picture is perfect.

" ... And then we went to McDonalds in the middle of the night to get ice cream," he finishes his story. He looks up. "Did you take a picture? I didn't even notice!" He stands close to you so he can see the camera's display. His perfume hits your nose. "Oh my God." He takes a step away from you, his grin wide. "I've never looked so good. Can you send this to me?"

The walk to the car takes longer than the walk there, in no small part because you don't really want to leave. You memorize every single step so you can find Monaco's most beautiful view again.

"Thank you for bringing me here."

He looks up from his feet and over at you. "I've never brought anyone here before." He smiles gently. "But somehow I felt like you needed this. To be away from it all for once."

"I appreciate that very much. I promise I won't tell anyone about this." You draw a cross with your index finger where your heart beats. Just like he just did. You know how much this place means to him. Never in your life would you bring anyone else here.

Your car comes into your field of vision. In a moment you would drive back home and everything you successfully repressed until just now would be waiting for you there. But it still can't spoil your mood. Not after the beautiful morning.

You hear Charles inhale to say something when suddenly his phone rings. Annoyed, he pulls it out of his pocket and looks at the screen before tossing you the car keys. You almost drop them on the floor. "I need to make a quick call." His voice tone is cold, definitely not as warm and mellow as it was just a few minutes ago. "Go ahead and get in the car. I'll be right behind you."

You nod to him and walk the few feet. You catch the beginning of the conversation anyway.

"Nous en avons déjà parlé. Je t'ai dit que je ne rentrerais pas chez moi pour le moment. Non, écoute, je n'ai ni le temps ni les nerfs pour en parler avec toi. Je suis en déplacement en ce moment. Cela ne te concerne pas". coming home – discuss – not your business

You unlock the car and plant yourself in the passenger seat, which, unlike a moment ago, no longer feels too wrong. While you can no longer understand what Charles is saying, judging by his facial expressions and gestures, it's definitely not a pleasant conversation. His face is flushed and he runs his hand through his hair several times before rolling his eyes.

When his gaze catches yours, you feel caught. As if you're watching him do something private that's none of your business. And for a moment you think that Charles is annoyed, telling you to do something other than watch him. But he just tilts his head and smiles softly before raising a finger in the air with his free hand. His mouth moves and it looks like "One minute" and some French word you can't make out by lip-reading.

You also answer him with a smile and look at the photo on the camera again. It's a little blurry and definitely not your best work, but it was taken from a beautiful moment and is one of your favorite pictures for that alone.

"Sorry." You barely notice Charles sitting down next to you in the car.

You drop the key into his open hand and look at him with concern. "Are you okay?"

He breathes in and out before putting the key in the ignition and letting the engine rev. He doesn't give you an answer to your question, but starts a new topic. "We're going to see Joris. I'd love to know how he got the idea to rent out the apartment without discussing it first." He doesn't smile, but his voice is no longer so callous. You just nod.

The situation is tense, and there's nothing you can do to defuse it except sit quietly and let Charles feel his feelings without judging him. You'd like to reach for his hand and squeeze it so he knows he's not alone. But you don't dare. The look on his face when you just touched his sweater-not even Charles per se-and the thought that you might be crossing a line burns into your brain.

You interlace your fingers in your lap and look out the window.

Of course, you don't notice that Charles' gaze briefly falls on your hands and that he wishes he could take yours in his for a little comfort.

next part

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc blurb #charles leclerc prompt #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc x female reader #Charles Leclerc one shot #Charles Leclerc angst #Charles Leclerc fanfiction #charles leclerc x reader #Carlos Sainz jr

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gutsby · 8 months

Text

Easy Street

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Summary: You steal a cop car and almost run Daryl over en route to the Sanctuary. You can’t decide if you want to fight him, fuck him, or bring him back to Negan. Lucky for you, Daryl is game for all three.

Warnings: NSFW. Attempted vehicular manslaughter. Enemies to lovers to enemies again. Hatefucking, facefucking, and a fair share of overstimulation. Age gap. Loss of virginity. Dirty talk so foul it may set feminism back several centuries. 7.5k words + this fucking song.

“You are one sick son of a bitch.”

Gripping the steering wheel in one hand and the Collapsable Hearts Club cassette case in the other, you shook your head, disturbed. Even in the sunlight, the miniature music cartridge looked sinister. You flung it to the side.

How Negan could force-feed this shit to his prisoners was beyond you.

You were barely two verses into the song and ready to swerve your Crown Vic into a ditch—it was that bad. In spite of the fiercely upbeat tempo and catchy melody, each spoken word was like nails on a chalkboard. The lyrics almost taunting in how unfit they were for the cacophony of this tune:

We’re on easy street. And it feels so sweet. ‘Cause the world is but a treat—

“—when you’re on easy street,” you finished, reflexively.

Shit. You had to turn this off. You’d drive yourself insane if you listened another minute, you were sure. Your eyes darted to the dashboard and searched for the radio dial in a frantic look. Spotting it almost immediately, you clenched your hand in a fist and struck the button. Hard. Just wanting—needing—the music to stop.

But, to your horror, your careless right hook did just the opposite: instead of shutting off the song, it simply knocked the age-old button off the stereo system. You watched with eyes the size of dinner plates as the metal knob glanced off the gearshift and disappeared into the carpet below, taking with it all your hopes and dreams of escaping this musical torment.

You let loose a string of expletives and scrambled across the seat, almost forgetting you were driving. The tires of the police cruiser you’d hijacked just hours before went veering to the left. You managed to right the car mere seconds before it went flying off the road, but not before you tried retrieving the missing dial.

And we’re breakin’ out the good champagne…

The car swung wide to the side.

We’re sittin’ pretty on the gravy train…

“Where the fuck did it go?!”

And when we sing, every sweet refrain repeats…

“SHUT UP!”

Right here on easy street.

Before you could throw another punch at the dashboard, your whole body lurched forward and your face bashed the center of the steering wheel. Your cop car, freshly dented with the impact of a body you’d just struck, went spinning for a moment before coming to a screeching halt some yards down the road. Fickle bastards that happened to be your airbags didn’t bother to deploy.

You lifted your head from the shattered Ford logo in front of you and groaned.

Catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirror to see the bruised and bloodied mayhem that had taken the place of your face, you barely flinched. You weren’t sure why, or how, it had happened, but from start to finish you remained fully conscious. And fucking infuriated.

With a strength you hardly thought yourself capable of, you hoisted your body out of the car. Blinked hard against the rays of sunlight now searing your eyes, and made a circuit—half-limped, half-staggered in a zigzag sort of fashion—around the back of the car. You wavered on numb, unsteady feet before reaching clumsily into your back pocket.

A smile that resembled something more of a grimace made its way to your face as your fingers closed around the base of your Browning Hi-Power. Whatever dipshit walker that had crossed paths with your vehicle and caused you to wreck was about to get its head pumped full of lead, if it wasn’t dead already.

But just as you started to turn the corner and raise your gun, a strangled voice broke out:

“Hey, hey, stop! STOP!”

You stalled in your tracks and almost dropped your weapon. Either your vision had gone to shit or your mind was playing tricks, but you could’ve sworn you saw a man waving his arms in a panic. Then he stopped.

You readjusted your grip on your pistol and kept it aimed at his head.

“Who the hell are you?”

The man paused a beat to eye you up and down, incredulous.

“You kiddin’?” he retorted.

When it looked as though he was moving closer to you, you fired a shot over his shoulder. The man jumped like a cat on hot bricks and slapped a hand over his ear, yelling,

“’Fuck was that for?!”

“I said, ‘Who are you?’” Your voice steadied with the recognition of your clear advantage.

The man, on the other hand, looked redder than ever. Though he didn’t budge an inch from his place and kept his hands held up in surrender, you could sense from the look on his face he was seething.

“Daryl,” he spat.

“Daryl who?”

“Daryl the-guy-you-just-hit-with-your-car, asshole.”

This time, you were the one to give him a skeptical once-over. Scanning his body for any signs of harm, only to make out a scrape on his cheek the size of your pinky. You wiped the back of your hand over a nose that was presently spurting blood like the Trevi Fountain and frowned.

“Y’don’t exactly look like roadkill to me,” you said flatly.

For the first time, Daryl’s mouth betrayed a hint of a smirk, and he tipped his chin in the direction behind you.

You turned, following his gaze, and eventually lowered your eyes to a lump in the road down yonder. You squinted.

“Is that a—” you started.

“Deer? Yeah.” Daryl finished.

When you angled back to face him, you saw the sour look had returned.

“Was s’posed’a be my dinner ‘til yer goddamn cop car chewed it up,” he said with a scowl.

So it was the deer he’d been carrying that you’d hit and sent your car to shit, and this man was bitching over a lost meal and a busted cheek? You almost couldn’t believe what you were hearing, your jaw starting to clench at the sight of him.

The man carried on, oblivious, “If ye hadn’t been blastin’ yer music so loud maybe you’d’a seen me standin’ in the road with a fuckin’ carcass on my back.”

“Well I wasn’t—”

“Payin’ attention? I figured,” Daryl bit back before you could finish.

Then, after a beat, “Who are ye anyway?”

This part was bound to be fun. The stranger looking you up and down like you were nuts didn’t have a clue who you were, but you had a feeling he knew a thing or two about your people. The Saviors had a way of making their presence known among neighboring communities. You figured by the looks of this guy, he was just another boneheaded denizen of The Kingdom—or worse yet, Alexandria.

You flashed a smile and supplied, “I’m Negan.”

You’d been a Savior all of three weeks and hadn’t yet made the proclamation to anyone outside your camp before, so this felt like a particularly momentous occasion. You were eager to see how Daryl would respond. If it instilled even a fraction of the fear in him as it did in others—you know, when Negan Negan was swinging his beloved, barbed wire bat and saying those things—you’d be happy. If he showed so much as a morsel of deference to you, this would have all been worth it.

Instead, Daryl laughed.

Not a polite laugh, either. A sidesplitting, wide grinning sort of laugh that sent shockwaves through his body and had him doubling over in hysterics. Your cheeks flushed.

“No shit?” he wheezed, “Negan’s got a—a goddamn Barbie doll doing his bidding now?”

“Fuck you.”

“Sorry, G.I. Jane.”

You’d heard enough of this. Had enough of him. You rubbed your blood-streaked face for the last time and turned on your heels. Stalking off in the other direction, the sounds of his laughter hardly seemed to subside, but it was apparent he wasn’t quite finished.

“I’m sorry,” he called after you, likely biting back a smile, “’m bein’ a prick, I know.”

You kept walking and pretended not to hear when footsteps bounded after you. You weren’t sure where you were going, or how you’d be getting there without a car, but you had a hunch that anywhere without Daryl was a place you’d like to be. When you felt a hand on your shoulder, you shrugged it off and told him to shove it.

“Hey— I’m tryin’ to be nice here,” he protested.

When you turned to tell him it generally wasn’t a nice person’s prerogative to remind others they were nice, you stopped. Glanced down at Daryl’s outstretched arm and saw black fabric in his hand. And, just above it, his bare chest.

He’d torn off his sleeveless shirt and was holding it out to you.

“Here,” he grumbled, “For yer nose.”

You eyed the top with mild distrust and hesitated to take it. Daryl rolled his eyes.

You felt your whole body tense when a hand reached out to grab you. Gruff and graceless as ever, Daryl tugged you closer to him.

“Don’t move.”

You couldn’t help but wince when he dragged the material over your face. Certainly wasn’t gentle with it but seemed to make quick work of the dried blood nonetheless. You watched him closely as he continued to dab the makeshift medicinal rag over your lips and nose, and for a moment, he almost looked serene.

“So you’re part of Negan’s harem, huh?”

And the moment was gone. You glared at Daryl.

“I don’t fuck old guys,” you snorted.

As soon as your words hit the air, you cringed inwardly. Why did you say it like that?

It was true, Negan called you his wife—though you hardly considered him your husband—and the two of you had yet to consummate your marriage. You imagined that day would come eventually, but if you were honest with yourself, you really didn’t want to think what that night might entail. You’d barely made it to second base with your last boyfriend.

Presently, Daryl placed a hand over his heart in mock offense.

“Ouch.”

No doubt the man before you had you beat in years, too. By a landslide. He might’ve been a couple years younger than Negan, but he certainly didn’t look it. Had a hint of a youthful aura, if there was such a thing. An eternally cool fifty-something with the attitude of a man more than two decades his junior. You wondered for one brief, fleeting second if he might have the stamina of one too. You quickly regained your senses and felt the urge to barf in your mouth.

This man could be my father, you thought.

This man could be my “father,” your dirtier subconscious suggested.

“Ew,” you said aloud.

Daryl looked up from his current occupation and raised an eyebrow.

“Sorry, I just—” You scrambled for a semi-plausible explanation for your outburst, “—just really hate the sight of blood.”

Daryl chuckled.

“Bullshit. I bet you’ve got some freaky kink for it,” he returned teasingly.

You were just then starting to suspect you might have a fetish for something else. You swallowed.

The taut, toned muscles in Daryl’s arms looked impossibly larger now that they were coated in sweat. With every forceful wipe of his hand, you saw some new bead of moisture fall from his skin or else dribble down his front, forming clusters of tiny rivulets that went trickling off his body. Like a tanned, trim stream of water you just wanted to lick—

“Clean!” Daryl announced, taking a step back to admire his work.

You suspected you still looked like shit, but you didn’t really care. You were too busy ogling Daryl’s body with a look of wanton lust to know, or care, or see much else, including the smirk that had begun to creep onto Daryl’s face.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” he sneered, chucking his shirt at you.

You barely managed to catch it as you felt a blush rise to your cheeks.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you replied, a little too defensively for your liking.

You swallowed your embarrassment with a scowl and started off in the other direction.

“Where ya headed?” Daryl shouted after you.

“Sanctuary.”

“Can I come?”

“No.”

“Can I please come?”

“Not unless you’re looking to have your head on a pike outside of it.”

Daryl grinned, “The thought might’ve crossed my mind.”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. Just when you came across a man with all the appearances of a perfectly aged fine wine and a killer body to boot, you find out he’s just as juvenile and dense as the rest of them. He continued to trot alongside you.

“You scared your husband’s gonna give you a whoopin’ or sumn’?” Daryl quipped.

“He’s not my husband,” you lied.

“Oh yeah?” he pressed.

“Yeah.”

“Then prove it.”

You slowed your pace to shoot him a look. He slowed a little too.

“I don’t have to prove anything,” you snapped.

Daryl raised his hands in defense, smiling just slightly.

“Never said you had to.”

You started to resume your trek again, only to halt a moment later when Daryl cut in:

“Yer a virgin, aren’t ya?”

This time the two of you came to a complete stop in the middle of the road. You saw the smug look on his face and wanted nothing more than to knock him on his ass.

“What did you just say?” Giving him a chance to fix his mistake.

Daryl did no such thing, only smiling even wider and crossing his arms.

“Just seems like you’ve never been fucked before,” he shrugged.

That was it. Without thinking twice, you shoved him hard in the chest and pushed him back a couple paces. Balled your hands into fists and nearly started pummeling his front, were it not for Daryl’s quick reflexes and frustrating ability to snag your two hands into one of his. He easily held your wrists captive above your head and squeezed them together—barely making an effort to restrain them and somehow doing it softly.

“You done?” he asked, unbothered.

You kicked him in the shin. This time he yelped, loosening his grip on you and leaving you space enough to break free. You contemplated another kick or shove for good measure, but seeing the enraged look on his face, you sensed it was in your best interest to flee. So you took off down the road.

You tore down the tarmac like a bat out of hell and chanced a quick look over your shoulder, only to see Daryl sprinting after you. Your stomach all but fell out your ass, and you kicked it into high gear as fast as you could.

“COME HERE!” Daryl bellowed behind you.

Your years outrunning walkers might finally have come in handy now. You sucked in a breath and took off like a shot, racing up the street with Daryl hot on your heels. With every second that passed, you sensed he was lagging further back. If you hadn’t been so scared he might beat you to a bloody pulp, you would’ve flipped him the bird or turned around to stick your tongue out.

The distance between you was even greater now. Your lungs were tight but breathing fine, and behind you, Daryl was audibly panting like a dog. You smirked to yourself.

Perhaps pushing your luck, you slowed down just a bit. Tried to stave off the oncoming wave of lactic acid soon to be stinging your muscles and keep the stomach cramps at bay. With your breaths growing more ragged and shallow by the second, you knew you couldn’t keep at this for too much longer. One of you would have to surrender at some point, and you knew it wouldn’t be you.

You were just then starting to regain speed when you felt something snag your waist. Before you could spare a look to the source of it, Daryl’s arm had already looped fully round your midsection and locked firmly in place. From there, his frame did the rest of the work as he took you both to the ground.

Daryl fell first. Got the wind knocked out of him and ate a face full of asphalt just in time for you to hit his body before you struck the concrete below. He let out a groan beneath you.

Together, you made a heaving, shaking mess in the middle of the road. Your body splayed over his, his arm still hooked around your hips, and the pair of you moaning and swearing and trying like hell to untangle yourselves from one another. You struggled to get upright, but your palms slipped on Daryl’s sweat-slick chest and sent you headfirst into his face. Daryl had just started to sit up when you knocked him flat on his back.

Nose-to-nose and practically panting into each other’s mouths, you shared a single, silent look—and simultaneously conjured up one of the worst ideas either of you had had to date.

“Wanna—” Daryl started.

“Yes.”

You and the man you’d just wanted to beat the living shit out of went shedding clothes like leaves off a tree. Daryl tearing the shirt off your body—so fast he damn near took your head off with it—and you fumbling at the buckle of his belt and whining at the feeling of a growing mound beneath you.

You freed belt, button, zipper, and boxers in a matter of seconds. Shocking even yourself, you started tugging his jeans down his legs, but Daryl stopped you.

“Leave it,” he grunted.

Before you knew it, he was hoisting himself off the ground with you still straddling his waist. Arms securing themselves under you and eyes searching wildly for the nearest car to fuck you on, Daryl groaned when your lips attached themselves to his neck. At length he settled on a long-abandoned Honda Civic perched on the edge of the road and dropped you onto the hood of it.

“Yer a shit driver, y’know that?” he said, yanking your shorts down your body.

You kicked them off at your ankles and inched yourself a little higher on the hood.

“Ever thought I meant to hit you?”

Daryl chuckled at that. Then he started lowering himself between your legs.

You’d been playing it unbelievably cool up until that point. Quick, witty, and nonchalant to a fault, as though you’d done this all a million times before. But inside you were panicked, fighting hard to keep your breaths in check and your stomach from twisting itself into knots. What was he planning to do with you? You’d only seen this stuff in movies, maybe once or twice in an incognito browser you’d opened years ago. You never thought you’d be doing any of it yourself—much less with a man twice your age and little more than a stranger to you—and suddenly, stupidly, you started to worry you might disappoint him.

You hadn’t even noticed Daryl had slipped down the length of your torso toward your heat. You tensed.

The next thing you felt was his hot breath fanning across your thighs, and you couldn’t help but try clamping them together, catching his head between the two of them.

“Ain’t even touched you yet,” he teased, glancing up at you.

You sincerely hoped neither your eyes nor your trembling thighs would give you away, but the look on Daryl’s face revealed just as much. Gaze still locked with yours, he offered a lopsided grin and started to bring his head even lower. Then, gently, he pressed a kiss over your panties. Then another. Then another.

You felt shivers the size of seismic waves pass over your body and he hadn’t so much as dipped a finger inside you. Slowly, you lifted your hips at Daryl’s behest and felt the fabric of your underwear disappear somewhere down your legs.

“We ain’t gotta do this if you’re—”

“Shut up,” you said, exasperated.

“Yes ma’am.”

Daryl imparted one last kiss to your aching core—this time unclothed—and groaned when he felt how wet you were before him. Almost immediately, his tongue darted out and licked a stripe up your slit. You moaned, squeezing your thighs even tighter.

Daryl didn’t mind. Just the opposite, in fact, as he delved deeper and flattened his tongue over your heat. Lapped up your juices and smirked when he felt you squirm above him.

“Dar—oh,” you began, only to break off in a semi-shriek when he found your clit with the tip of his tongue.

“Wha’s’at?” Daryl’s voice came out muffled between your legs. Then lifting his head to be heard a little clearer, “You say sumn’, sugar?”

Your hands acted with a mind of their own as they hurriedly shoved his head back down.

“Don’t stop,” you hissed. You hardly knew what had come over you.

You heard one more muted, ‘Yes ma’am,’ and Daryl went dutifully back to his occupation of tongue-fucking you senseless. Coordinating a lethal combination of kissing, licking, sucking, and occasionally curling a finger inside you, he all but had you convulsing on the car with little to no hope of not cumming in his mouth. You threaded your fingers through his hair and yanked hard as the knot in your stomach started to tighten. One or two more suctioned kisses and a single lick between your folds and you’d be gone.

However, not long after that, Daryl did the cruelest thing you could’ve expected. He stopped.

Straightening up and taking a step back to marvel at the mess he’d made, he felt himself getting harder. All while you cussed and whined about how unfair he was being, he was concocting the filthiest thoughts imaginable. He grabbed both your ankles and jerked you closer. Then, crawling over you with pupils blown wide in lust, he seized hold of your throat in one hand and yanked you up hard to greet him.

You gagged, dragged your fingers helplessly over the single hand that was holding you up, and nearly started seeing stars when Daryl brought his face even closer to yours.

“You don’t cum ‘til I tell you to,” he said through gritted teeth, before letting go of your neck as quickly as he’d caught it and watching you fall back on your ass.

Sprawled out on the hood of the Honda, you cursed your deep-rooted daddy issues for finding that act of aggression arousing. You feigned an angry look and pouted up at him.

Before you could mouth off just to make him even angrier, you felt yourself manhandled once more: this time, plucked off the car and into Daryl’s arms. He promptly shifted your weight to one side and freed one of his hands to start fooling with something you couldn’t see beneath you. When you heard the rustle of fabric and felt him start to strain a little, you got the picture.

Daryl returned you to the car—this time, straddling him on the hood of it.

When he’d made himself comfortable and lifted you over his hips, he said, “You didn’t answer me earlier.”

“About what?” you huffed, already antsy with impatience.

“’bout this.” Daryl slipped a hand between your bodies and grazed your cunt with his knuckle. You pursed your lips tight to suppress the moan that followed.

“What about it?” you whined, trying, and failing, to steady your voice.

The corners of Daryl’s mouth twitched at the sight of you growing flustered. Quietly, he extended one finger and dragged it up your slit. Pretended not to hear when you whimpered his name.

“Have y’ever been fucked there?” he asked casually.

You had long since lost the tolerance for games. You shook your head and told him, “No.”

“What about here?”

Daryl beckoned you with the fingers of his free hand, and when you leaned in, brought them up to your lips. He cupped your chin and tapped your mouth, as if to accentuate his question.

“Nuh-uh,” you said, quietly.

If it were possible for Daryl to get any harder, he would have. You weren’t just a virgin, but an absolute, unadulterated novice to the world of depravity that infiltrated his every desire. Something about the artlessness and innocence in an amateur like yourself sent the blood pumping straight to his cock as he imagined all the things he could teach you. He couldn’t keep from staring at your lips, imagining his member pumping back and forth between them, or at your eyes, wondering how they’d lock with his the moment he pushed inside you. All thoughts of a rough and ruthless piledriver fuck escaped his brain as he sat back and simply relished the idea of being your first. It was all he could think about.

You, on the other hand, weren’t quite picking up what he was putting down and found yourself shifting uncertainly above him. Wondering if you had done something to upset him as he continued to watch you with a thousand-yard stare and didn’t say a word.

“Is that...okay?” you asked, your voice now barely above a whisper.

Daryl’s gaze flitted to yours, and he almost groaned at the wide-eyed expression of naïveté on your face.

Instead of answering, he took your hips in his hands and dragged your lower half over his. Letting you feel, for the first time, just how swollen and erect he was beneath you. Your breath hitched a little in your throat, but you couldn’t deny the sensation was incredible. As before, your body just sort of acted of its own accord and started rubbing against him, while you hoped, implacably, that whatever you were doing was normal. Judging by the sound he let out moments later you deduced that it was.

You hardly realized it yourself, but your heat was dripping with arousal. Coating Daryl’s cock with every gyration of your body while the man below you had only to grit his teeth and hiss at the sensation. When he glanced down to watch you, he almost groaned with pleasure.

“I need to fuck you,” he blurted out, half-declaration, half-plea.

That drove the point home well enough.

You watched with some amusement as Daryl continued to clench his jaw and fight with every fiber of his being not to buck his hips up into you. You almost felt tempted to giggle when all of a sudden Daryl took your face in his hands. Then he kissed you, deeply.

You were taken aback by the gesture but kissed him back all the same, surprised neither of you had made an attempt to do it before. With no great difficulty at all, your mouths melded into one another as he gripped the sides of your face and pulled you even closer. He slipped his tongue between your lips, and you tasted a tang of yourself still lingering on it. You opened your mouth a little wider in the hopes Daryl would afford you more of it.

But then, as quickly as he’d started, he stopped. He pulled away, looked you up and down, and swallowed.

“You sure y’want to?” he murmured.

Presently, and impatient as you were, you decided to take a page from Daryl’s book and gratify his question with a wordless answer. You rolled your hips over his and pushed the head of his cock against your wet, aching hole, peering into his eyes with the purest ‘fuck-me’ look you could muster.

Daryl was already gripping the base of his cock and angling it toward your entrance. Hoping you wanted this as badly as he did, pondering with some apprehension how he might fit you and whether it’d feel good for you at first or take some getting used to—all while needing you on him, around him, filled to the brim with every inch and pleading for more. Unlike himself, he found it near impossible to make that first push inside you, still plagued with the thought he might break you in two.

Sensing this, you did something uncharacteristic of yourself too, and made the first move to ease down on his length.

Your body welcomed him with surprising ease, though the inches came slow and the stretch was something you hadn’t expected. Your eyes flickered to Daryl’s as the sting turned to a burn, and you almost couldn’t bring yourself down to the base of him without the sound of a few strangled whimpers escaping your lips. Daryl’s hands quickly worked their way around you and started rubbing up and down your back, as if to distract you from the feeling while his eyes searched yours for any signs of serious discomfort.

“Hey, you’re good,” he assured you quietly, swallowing a moan of his own as your warmth engulfed him completely, “You’re good, honey, you’re good.”

When you looked to him as if to say, ‘Holy shit, are you sure?’ he just smiled and nodded.

“Takin’ me so good,” he murmured, eyes glued on you, “Doin’ so fuckin’ well.”

His soft consolations rang clear in your ears and encouraged you to keep going. You lifted yourself in his lap and brought your body back down again, this time gratified with Daryl’s first moan. He snaked an arm around your waist and helped you gently buck your hips to his and rock them back and forth. Together, you watched your bodies grind against each other in a hot and sweaty mess, making sounds as sticky and obscene as you’d ever heard before, and right then, you swore you could have cum at the sight of that alone. The initial burn gave way with each passing moment to a sweeter sort of feeling deep within your belly. You picked up your speed just a bit and braced yourself hard against Daryl’s chest.

“My baby feelin’ good?” he said, breaths coming out in shallow puffs now as you rode him.

You bit your lip and nodded, practically bouncing in his lap with your hands still anchored on him and your eyes beginning to close.

“That good, huh?” Daryl hummed.

When you nodded again, he dropped a hand to the spot where your bodies connected and rubbed a light, lazy circle between your folds. Your eyes squeezed tighter at the jolt of pleasure, and your body moved even faster.

“Fuck, Daryl,” you whined. “I-I–”

“What?” Daryl smirked.

You ventured a look back down at him, eyes all glossy and soft. You were still writhing, still rolling up and down his shaft with a fucked-out look as his hips started to snap up into you. In a moment, you surprised the both of you as you gripped his shoulder and said:

“I want you to fuck me from behind.”

Daryl was still rutting into you and somehow unable to comprehend how a thing as lithe and naive as you looked could ever say something so coarse. When he didn’t respond for some seconds, you sighed, disgruntled.

“C’mon, Dar,” you whined, “have I gotta bend myself over this car and—”

Daryl didn’t let you finish. Flipped you over beneath him and did exactly as you hoped he would, stomach flat on the hood of the car and ass up in the air.

He didn’t waste another moment waiting for your assent as he had before. He just thrusted himself in one, sloppy drive and made you moan as he bottomed out inside you. Snatched a fistful of hair in one hand and yanked your head back to meet his gaze.

“Anyone ever taught you manners?” he growled, likely displacing dozens of strands of hair from your scalp with the way he was pulling it, “Ever heard of please, and thank you, daddy?”

Your knees buckled at the last. Stretched and stuffed with his cock, you swear you couldn’t have felt any filthier than the instant he’d uttered that final word in your ear. You watched him, mouth hanging open, and hardly knew what to say.

“You know,” Daryl started, breaking your heart when he withdrew himself from your hole, “I don’t think you deserved to be fucked like this at all.”

Heaving breath after desperate breath over the hood of the car, you turned yourself fully to face him. He wasn’t smiling, or watching you with those careful, kind eyes anymore.

“I do,” you cried, “I want you to fuck me like that, Daryl, I do.”

“I bet you do,” he snapped, retreating another step, “I said you don’t deserve it.”

You would’ve fallen to your knees if you had a fraction less sense than you did. Pleading him with wild, frenzied eyes and legs that were liable to collapse with the weight of your desire, you didn’t blink when Daryl’s hand found the back of your head again—yanking it down this time around.

“Something tells me that mouth needs fucking if it wants a lesson in etiquette,” he griped, shoving you to the ground in front of him.

You cowered on your knees as your face hovered inches from his stiff, expecting member. The problem was, you didn’t know what he was expecting, or how he wanted it done. Were you supposed to take him in both hands and rub him up and down, pepper kisses down every throbbing vein and lick him ‘til he came, tease him with your tongue like he had with you, or else swallow him whole? You didn’t know, couldn’t start, would’ve like to wait another minute or two contemplating your latest charge when all of a sudden, Daryl’s hand pushed you straight on his cock.

Not an easy couple inches or a light, gentle thrust to get you used to his size in your mouth. A full-forced thrust to the back of your throat, causing your mouth to convulse, contract, and gag around him in response. Your eyes welled with tears and ventured a look to the man with his fingers still threaded through your hair. The scowl hadn’t ebbed from his features, and the eyes were hardly more sympathetic. He dragged you back up his length so there was just enough space for you to speak, and uttered, almost mockingly:

“What do we say when we want something, sugar?”

Your mind was buzzing, but the answers came quicker than you thought.

“Please,” you spluttered, drool leaking down your chin, “I say please.”

“Wrong,” Daryl declared.

Without another word, he shoved your face down the length of his cock and pulled it back even faster. You were still reeling with the force of your gag reflex and sucking in a breath when he began again.

“Please what?” he pressed, tilting your head up to face him.

“P-Please, daddy. Please, daddy,” you supplied in an instant.

A marginally gentler touch massaged the back of your head with his fingertips, and for a second, you thought you were clear. Then Daryl went pushing your mouth back onto him, albeit slightly less harsh, and you readily closed your lips around him and bobbed on his cock. You sucked happily and with more enthusiasm than you thought yourself able, just wanting to make Daryl happy and keep him guiding you over his length with a more tender grasp.

And he did just that. Seemingly appeased by your obedience and more than pleased to watch you slide up and down him as you were, he ran a more considerate touch over your head and let you do most of the work.

You flattened your tongue on the bottom and curled your lips around your teeth to keep the friction minimal. Almost amazed how natural it felt to be servicing his cock and wanting, more than anything, to know you were making him proud. When a long, protracted moan graced your ears the moment you reached the base of him, you held him there as long as you could and hummed a quiet, muffled whimper of your own.

When Daryl pulled you off a second later, you were disheartened, to say the least. You parted your lips and leaned in to take him in your mouth again, only to feel yourself being gathered back up in Daryl’s arms and brought to your feet.

“Go on,” he murmured, pacing forward and nudging you gently to the point the backs of your knees hit the grill of the car behind you, “Tha’s my good girl.”

You fell back and watched Daryl’s body trail close behind. By the time you were flat on your back, he was wedged between your thighs with a hand planted on either side of your head.

If wanted him any more, you’d probably be blue in the face, unable to breathe, and on the brink of seeing stars. Your chest rose and fell with the shortest, shallow breaths, and it seemed each passing moment brought you nearer to your fear that they might stop altogether if Daryl didn’t touch you soon. You gladly parted your legs further to accommodate his frame, and when you felt him above you, poised inches from your aching heat, you wrapped your legs around him. Tight.

“Tell me how ye want it,” Daryl grunted.

“Want you deep inside me, daddy, please,” you answered, taking care not to neglect your “manners.” Then, more softly, “Want you to fuck me ‘til I can’t walk, daddy, pretty pretty please.”

Daryl moaned at the sounds of your excitement, feeling you dig your heels in his ass and tug him even closer. His cock twitched at your entrance.

“Tha’ what you want?” he hummed, grazing his lips along your cheek, “Tha’s what my baby needs?”

You nodded frantically. Daryl nodded too, as if commiserating with you, but then felt unable to suppress the smirk that was threatening to grow on his face. He reveled in your pleasure and your pleas all the same and wanted to make this good for you. He couldn’t make you wait.

Pressing a kiss to your lips, he sank his cock between your folds and gratified you both with a familiar, filling stretch. You clenched around him and earned another low, guttural moan as Daryl pushed deeper inside you. It didn’t take long for the pace of his thrusts to pick up, impatience and desperation practically tangible in the air between you. You let your head loll back and felt Daryl’s own fall into the crook of your neck, breaths hot on your skin as he continued to pound you into the metal surface below.

“’s a shame ya don’t— fuck older guys,” Daryl whispered, punctuating his words with another thrust. Ridiculing you for your comments earlier and making you squirm as he did.

If you weren’t so close to climax you would’ve told him to fuck off—probably made yourself look a little stupid as a man twice your age was currently balls deep inside you, giving you dick like no other on the front-end of a Honda Civic. Instead, you swallowed your pride and smiled.

“Glad you could get it up when I did, daddy,” you managed quietly, cloyingly. Almost wanting to slip a sly Cialis joke at the end but thinking better of it.

Daryl took one of your legs over his shoulder then, pounding you at a vicious speed.

“Anything for my favorite Savior,” he returned, just as caustic and cruel as he relished the squelching sounds between you.

Your head fell back with the new, nearly unbearable sensation radiating from your core, and Daryl quickly cradled you between his arms. Hunched over you now and fucking you faster than ever, he wanted—no, needed—to see you cum, and he’d stop at nothing to see it happen.

He hauled your other leg to rest flat on his shoulder and thrusted even deeper. With both ankles above your head and your eyes practically rolled back in pleasure, it took him all of ten seconds to find your clit and make you scream. Not a moan or a shriek or a half-hearted whimper, but a scream that went echoing down the road and through the woods and likely in the ears of every walker within a five mile radius. Neither of you cared.

Your eyes locked on Daryl’s and glazed over with desire, all you needed was release.

“I-I’m close,” you managed, breath hitching with every snap of Daryl’s hips.

“Fuckin’ show me then,” Daryl bit back, “Show daddy how good his cock’s makin’ ya feel.”

What little you could show him came in the form of a strangled moan and a sigh, and Daryl didn’t seem satisfied with this in the slightest. Rather than take you at your word, he grasped your face in one hand and jerked your head toward him. Heart racing and chest shaking with every breath, he drove himself a little deeper and felt you clench him around him even tighter when he hit your sensitive spot.

“Wanna cum for daddy, is tha’ what y’want?” he prodded. Pretending not to hear when you squealed his name and writhed with every graze against your g-spot.

“Yes, daddy, please let me cum— a-all over your cock,” you stammered.

Daryl smoothed the hair out of your face and caught a glimpse of the cockdrunk expression painted on it, and almost shot his load on the spot. But he wouldn’t, couldn’t cum ‘til he had your own release spilling down his member, that much he knew. You were being so good for him, taking him so well, and on top of it all, calling him daddy left and right like your life depended on it. Daryl was smitten.

Sensing your orgasm was fast approaching, he dropped a hand between your legs and took care to keep it gentle. Watched your lips form an “o” and a hand reach for his, hurriedly, while an old, familiar feeling just then started to twist in your stomach.

“Daryl,” you shrilled, squeezing his hand as tight as you could.

“Right here, honey,” Daryl murmured, eyes steady on yours, “I’m right here, you can cum for me.”

He clutched your fingers right back and felt them tighten as a new wave of pleasure broke over you. Your moans came quick and took a higher pitch, your legs wrapped around him like a vice, and the best, albeit maddening, part for Daryl came when your muscles started to pulse around him, nearly sending him over the edge himself. You dropped your head back into his hands and simply felt him—in you, and on you, and at your ear with the gentlest words of encouragement. You breathed out a sigh when the pleasure started to subside.

Daryl didn’t stop. His eyes stayed locked on yours, and the soft, earnest grunts stayed constant as he continued to rut into you and circled a thumb over your clit.

You whined with your sharply heightened sensitivity and pressed your hands to his chest, bewildered by this feeling and why the hell Daryl had kept going.

“Dar—”

“One more, darlin’,” Daryl urged, as delicate as he was adamant.

Your eyes widened, every nerve ending in your body on the fritz. Your fingernails carved bright red crescents in his skin with the force of every thrust, and for a time, it seemed you were riding out the longest orgasm of your life. You clung to Daryl and let your pleasure overtake you. You scarcely understood the sensation more than you did Daryl’s intentions, but the longer he fucked you, the more intense the feeling grew, and within a matter of seconds you were coming undone again, the swell of your second climax washing over you with a mind-numbing fury.

Eager as he was to fuck you into your third, Daryl just couldn’t resist the sights and sounds and unbearable sensations beneath him any longer, and he felt his own orgasm tearing through his body moments later. You felt a spurt of warmth within you and a set of lips finding yours in a frantic, clumsy kiss, and you relished the noises Daryl made as he rode out his high.

You were still kissing in between delirious gasps for air and all but shaking on the sweat-soaked hood of the car. Daryl’s hips slowed before coming to rest comfortably between your thighs, still inside you.

Wide-eyed and smiling, Daryl raised a hand to your head and was just then brushing some hair from your face to plant a couple more kisses, when a voice broke out across the way:

“Ho-ly shit!”

You and Daryl jumped at the intrusion and glanced behind you. Your blood ran cold.

You spotted a familiar salt-and-pepper speckled head of hair and a set of eyes glinting with amusement. Standing off to the side with his attention fastened to the two of you and a head shaking back and forth, slowly, as if in disbelief.

“Daryl Dixon, you dirty, dirty dog!” he chided, “How’s it feel to pop my wife’s cherry before me, brother?”

At the last, Negan tightened his grip on Lucille and smiled.

#daryl dixon #daryl x reader #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon imagine #smut #twd daryl #twd fanfiction #the walking dead #daryl dixon one shot #twd imagine

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longing-for-the-past-times · 8 months

Text

Late night driving headcanons

task force 141 x reader

synopsis: late night drives with members of task force 141

notes: Ghost's part is inspired by this request; also wrote big parts of this during a night ride (going back to college). Hope you enjoy

warnings: none?

masterlist

Captain 'John' Price

He knows it the moment he steps out of the base, around midnight, and finds you parked next to his car, mindlessly scrolling through your phone in the driver's seat. You don't have to tell him anything, he just throws his duffel bag in the back and climbs into the passenger seat, putting his seatbelt on.

You do not meet his eyes as you turn on the engine and leave the parking lot with one hand on the steering wheel while the other one is resting on the gear knob, your fingers impatiently drumming against the hard plastic

Resting his head on the headrest, Price turns to look at you, his eyes filled with silent adoration as he rests his left hand atop yours and starts to rub circles into your skin. He does not miss the satisfied sighs that leave your lips.

The night is dark and the car is silent, yet his touch is loving and reassuring, his quiet presence being a constant you always can rely on. The city lights filter through the windows of the car, casting your concentrated figure in a fluorescent glow. Price wouldn't admit it in front of you, but in moments like these, you take his breath away, both figuratively and literally

It is when you are stopped at a traffic light that you eventually let out a deep sigh and start talking. At first, you have a hard time finding your words, as you usually do when trying to open up, but John's presence has a soothing effect on you, his soft, yet approving smile helping you to keep going

Like usual, Price keeps stroking your skin and listens to you carefully, nodding along to what you are telling him. Whether you had a bad day at work, the printer broke again or your professor at the university did not grant you an extension for the final assignment - he will pay utmost attention to the details that ruined your day and try to find the best words (and potentially actions) that will make you feel better

Is someone bothering you at work? He might swing by during lunch break with his full tactical gear on. Has the printer stopped working? He will carry the new one on his shoulders and lay it at your feet. And the professor? If he cannot change his mind regarding your due date, he will help you himself write that essay (and tear the local library apart in the process)

After you make your usual stop at the gas station for fuel and snacks, you roll the windows down to the cool and refreshing night air, one hand casually resting on the window's edge while the other is holding the steering wheel

You can't help but smile at the familiar scent of Price's cigar and you let out another sigh, yet this time it is a content one.

"Remember, things always work out, little one!", he eventually says when you park into the driveway, ruffling your hair and planting a kiss on your forehead. You place your hands on his shoulders and kiss him on the lips, closing your eyes when you feel his fingers in your hair.

"As long as we are together, we will both be fine!"

Lieutenant Simon 'Ghost' Riley

Ghost knows something is wrong when your messages stop containing emojis. While he is not an emoji person himself, he secretly enjoys the creative and suggestive ways you find to insert them in any of your messages.

But what makes him leave work earlier than usual (and spend only one extra hour on base instead of the usual three) is your clipped reply of "I'm spending the night in. I'm not feeling really well." which is devoid of any bed, sleep or whatever weird emoji he could think of.

And before heading to your place, he makes an extra stop at his, switching his pickup truck for his beloved motorcycle. It doesn't take him long to get changed into the black protective gear and make sure the spare, smaller-sized matching piece is stored in the top case, alongside a matching helmet.

Five minutes later he's at your door, his brows furrowing at the sight of your tired figure. Instead of giving him your usual reassuring smile, you just gesture him to come in and he has to place a hand on your shoulder to stop you from turning your back to him.

'You don't need to talk about it if you don't want to. But we're not spending the night in either.'

It's your turn to frown at his cryptic words, and he gently takes your hands and leads you out of the house until his motorcycle comes into view. He keeps his eyes glued on you and his heart skips a beat when he notices the faint grin that appears on your face, your hands still clasped tightly to his.

'And before you ask, yes, I took your protective gear to the dry cleaners. And you can borrow one of my balaclavas...'

He does not miss the mischievous spark in your eyes and he has to fight the butterflies in his stomach as he knows exactly what you are going to say.

'Can I have the one with the skull on it?'

Playing hard to get is his speciality, so he resorts to rolling his eyes dramatically, blinking rapidly for effect.

'I am wearing it right now-'

'That's why I asked.'

He takes off his balaclava with a loud sigh and gently pulls it over your head until only your smiling eyes are visible. The corners of his mouth quirk up at the innocent, yet grateful look you are giving him and he shakes his head in defeat as he reaches for an identical balaclava in his pocket

Eventually, Ghost can't help but beam at your wide-eyed expression, before helping you get into the protective suit and ensuring the helmet is firmly placed on your head. You do not miss the tender looks he gives you when he thinks you're not watching and you start blushing when he is busying himself with the strap of your helmet, his warm breath fanning over your face

Once his helmet is back on his head, he gets on the motorcycle and gestures for you to join him. It's not the first time you're doing this, but you still get lightheaded at the thought of being so close to him. Yet, as usual, you do not miss the way his body relaxes as you slide your arms around his waist and press yourself against his back, resting your head on his shoulder

The hum of the engine is a distant buzz in your ears as you relish in the friction of the protective costumes and the warmth the body-to-body contact has caused to course through your veins.

The city lights come and go so fast they turn into a blur, and the usual hustle and bustle of the city become a distant sensation as the cool night air embraces your figure the same way your arms encircle Simon's waist.

In that moment, his presence is what keeps you grounded and safe, your hands tightening their grip around his waist as you let out a sigh of relief. No day can be completely ruined as long as you have Ghost by your side.

Sergeant John 'Soap' MacTavish

He does not need a pretext or excuse for a car ride; he'll simply text you or show up at your door with car keys in hand

And you'll only smile at him, rolling your eyes at his sheepish expression and mechanically putting on your shoes as you ask him:

'Who's driving?'

If he had a long or exhausting day at work, he'll simply hand you over the keys, placing both of his hands on your shoulders and guiding you to the car.

But other times he would swing the keys around his fingers and extend his hand as an invitation, gallantly leading you to the passenger's seat where he would fuss over you triple-checking the safety belt and trying to sneak as many kisses as possible

'Not my fault your face looks so kissable!', he'd manage to articulate the words between pecks and your childish chuckles

There were a couple of times when the 'innocent' pecks turned into something more and you had to call it a night and move into the house.

But he usually manages to stop in time, both to yours and his dismay and get in the driver's seat without causing any more distractions

Soap's the kind of guy who would sing his heart out so you two have several shared playlists prepared for the occasion. Depending on who's driving, you or he would choose one of them, put it on shuffle, and let the chaos begin.

You like to sing along as well, but that does not mean that either of your voices actually match the rhythm of the music. If asked, you would both argue that your renditions are decent, but in reality...

There was this one time where you were stopped at a red light and Unchained Melody was the next song to be played. You two had a great time trying to hit the high notes that the original duo did, singing your hearts out in the car, with both windows rolled down.

Let's just say the group of bikers that were stopped on the other lane were not fans - neither of the song nor of your performance.

But the small altercation did not stop you from spending another hour just cruising around the city, and enjoying the overwhelming amount of neon signs and streetlights that filtered through the tinted windows of the car

Sergeant Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick

It is a tradition that casually started the first time he came back from a mission. You were both lying on the couch, cuddling and watching some random sitcom

All was good and fair until you realized you had run out of snacks. And since it was one in the morning, ordering in was not an option.

So you hopped in the car and let Gaz drive around to the nearest gas station to see what you can get

Gaz is definitely the type of guy to say 'I know a place' and proceed to drive you to some hard-to-get, yet breathtaking place. That is what he did that first night, driving you to a quiet place from where you could see the entire city.

You opened the trunk and ate the snacks in there, resting your head on Gaz's shoulder and he on top of yours.

Since that night, every time he comes home from a mission, you go on a hunt for snacks and end up in your snacking spot, as you like to call it

'A snack with a view', you would often joke to Gaz as you huddled in his warm embrace

'Wait- I think the view's missing something...'

He would place his hands on your shoulders, turning you so you were face to face with him and against the nocturnal landscape of city lights

'Yes, it's better now!'

His grin would be impossibly huge, his chuckles eventually missing with yours as you would try to lean forward and steal a kiss from his lips

After the second time you did that, you decided to keep a couple of pillows and blankets in the back of the car

He will always be the one to drive - there's no point in arguing about that

'You do know I'm not a Sunday driver!'

'It's a male instinct, darling! You know, like the primal need to hunt down a bear, cook it and serve it to you!'

If you fall asleep in the passenger seat, he'll carry you inside and tuck you in against his naked torso, pulling you as close as possible to him

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brunnerasposts · 1 month

Text

"wait in the truck"

S.H. x Female Reader

Summary: Steve gets lost on a rainy night and finds you bruised and bloody on the side of the road. You get in his truck, and he drives to find who hurt you and make them pay.

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: OUTSIDE OF ST STORYLINE, mentions of physical, verbal, and mental abuse, swearing, slight fluff, references to violence, strangers to friends

Additional Note: I haven't written any fanfiction in a hot minute so please bare with my writing ;(

"Thank you for listening to 94.7!" The radio suddenly blared once the static had stopped. Steve immediately reached for the volume knob, turning it down. He could barely focus with how loud the rain was pouring and how fast his windshield wipers were having to move. There hadn't been any indications that it would be raining soon, let alone a whole storm. "Jesus," He muttered under his breath, throwing his high beams on. What was worse than being stuck in a storm? Being stuck in a storm and having no idea where the hell you are.

He couldn't remember when he had gotten off track from the directions being repeated consistently by the GPS. Maybe it was when he needed gas? Steve gripped the steering wheel a little tighter, agitated with himself for being so careless. His eyes squinted as he leaned forward, hoping that would help him see the road in front of him better. He was mainly concerned with hitting anything or anyone.

His eyes suddenly stopped squinting as he noticed a figure in the distance. It was a person. Maybe they could help him find out where he was. Relief washed over him as he drove closer. His relief soon turned to confusion as he began to realize this figure was walking away from him in the rain. It didn't look like they had a coat or anything.

He drove a bit faster to catch up with them before slowing down to a stop. He rolled his window down, realizing it was a woman. "Excuse me, Miss, I was wondering if you could help me out here." He asked, hoping to sound as nice as he possibly could. After all, it was the middle of the night and he was a man in a vehicle while she was alone and in the rain.

"I'm a little lost," He admitted, "I could drive you to wherever it is you're going in return. You could get sick being out there like that."

She stopped walking, keeping her head down so her hair blocked her face. "You're being awfully nice for a guy stuck out in a storm." Her voice was shaky, her accent thick. Steve couldn't help but smile, shaking his head. "Just trying to be nice."

The girl lifted her head to look at him, causing Steve's breath to hitch.

The first thing he noticed was that she was absolutely fucking beautiful. He had never seen such eyes. If it weren't raining and dark, he'd probably end up staring a lot longer than he had been. Her eyes were wide, tired, and had little life to them.

The longer he looked at her, the more his smile fell and turned into a scowl. Her lip was swollen with a bleeding cut going from the bottom to top lip. She had bruises all along the sides of her head and near one of her eyes. Her tank top did little to cover the cuts and bruises lining her arms. She held herself, shaking, eyes and nose red from the rain and from crying. She had been through hell. It didn't take long before Steve was reaching across and opening the door, having made up his mind. "Climb in,"

She complied.

He turned the car lights on, watching her as she buckled herself in. Her tank was torn up, dried blood splotches near her stomach area. "What happened?" He couldn't help but ask. She stared at him and was silent for a while. Her whole body trembled, so Steve reached for the heat and turned it on. He then reached into the back seat and grabbed a blanket, handing it to her.

"I..uh," She sniffled, "I was home and trying to fix this light. Couldn't reach it, so I grabbed this ol' ladder and ended up falling down the stairs." She told him, avoiding eye contact as she bundled herself up. "Thank you."

"Stairs, huh?" He asked, not really believing her story. She nodded a little, fiddling with something on her hand. He glanced at it before shifting into drive, turning the light back off in the car.

"This probably isn't any of my business, but couldn't your husband have fixed the light?" He asked, looking for any other roads besides the one they were on.

He slowed the car as he heard her begin to shift, pulling at her finger. She continued to pull until the ring came off, shakily placing the ring on the dashboard. Steve turned the light on again, looking at the blood covered ring. His attention shifted to her hands, seeing bruises of all sorts.

This wasn't just falling down a flight of stairs.

He inspected her face, noticing the watered-down blood that surrounded her mouth. Her watery eyes focused on the ring she had set down. "He's no husband of mine." She whispered.

Steve wasn't one to get involved in other people's business, but too many clues were adding up. He turned his GPS off, accelerating ever so slightly. He found a point in which he could make a u-turn, hand gripping the wheel. They didn't talk for a while. Not until they reached roads that branched off.

"Where is he?"

There was silence for a while, the woman hesitant to speak. "Home." She soon admitted, looking at her lap. "Drunk."

His suspicions had been correct then.

Some light came into view as they approached scattered "landmarks." A gas station, a diner, and a bar. Steve still was unsure of where he was, but he could tell it was a very small town.

"Make a right near that gas station." She spoke quietly, Steve putting his turning signal on. "Which house?" He asked, turning onto the road. "It's at the very end of the road." She told him. Steve nodded and continued driving.

His eyes moved everywhere as he drove. He looked at the road, his rear view mirror, his speedometer, the woman next to him, pretty much anything to keep his mind occupied. The idea of what this woman could have gone through was sending his blood pressure through the roof. He didn't care that she was a complete stranger to him, he just knew she needed help. And he was more than willing to put her mind at ease.

"Are you gonna hurt him?"

He could feel her eyes on him now, but he didn't look over. "It depends." He spoke, spotting the house in the distance. He turned his lights off, driving slowly. "Do you love him?" He asked as he parked, now turning to look at her. Even in the darkness of the car, he could see her uncertainty. He gently reached his hand out, palm facing up so she could put her hand in his.

The woman was hesitant, but she placed her hand in his. "I promise he isn't going to bother you again. Now, wait in the truck." He said before opening the car door. Steve shut the door behind himself and opened the door to the backseat.

"What if he hurts you?" She asked in a panic as he grabbed his pistol and his baseball bat.

"He won't."

Steve went to close the door, but she quickly exclaimed, "Wait," and Steve stopped. "What's your name?" She asked, gripping the blanket around herself now. He couldn't help but smile a little, glad she was finding comfort in his things. "Steve. Steve Harrington."

"Y/N Letcher." She introduced herself. "Mr. Harrington, why are you helping me?" She asked, Steve simply shaking his head in response. "Just wait in the truck." He told her, closing the car door. Rain continued to fall, making his once nicely kept hair into a mop on his head. For once, he couldn't care less. He walked up the gravel driveway, each crunch under his shoe, giving him the confidence to walk up and pound on the door.

If he was being completely honest, he couldn't even answer her question. He wasn't entirely sure why he was involving himself in another person's business other than the fact that she was in trouble and needed help. He didn't approve of this kind of behavior, and he needed to make sure this man never hurt anyone ever again.

The door cracked open, a man in a white wife beater and jeans standing with a cigarette in his mouth. "Mr. Letcher?" Steve asked.

"Who the fuck are you?" Mr. Letcher asked, scratching at his beer covered stomach. At least Steve thought it was beer. Steve grinned at the man through the screen door. "You got company?"

"Who's askin'?" The man spat, his accent thicker than his wife's. Steve twiddled with his baseball bat, opening the screen door which startled the man. He then held the baseball bat against his shoulder, grinning.

"Harrington. Steve Harrington."

---

"Harrington, you've got a visitor."

Steve rolled his shoulders before sitting in his designated chair, glaring at the officer behind him. He adjusted his wrists, looking to the phone on the wall. Taking it, Steve held it against his ear and looked through the glass.

"Your bruises seem to be almost healed."

"I hardly even notice them anymore." She smiled, more lively than he had last seen her. Steve took the time to really look at Y/N. Bruises almost gone, no blood, no cuts, just healing. Healing in so many ways.

"How are you?" He asked.

"Me? I'm doing perfectly fine, Mr. Harrington. I should be asking that."

Steve chuckled and shrugged his shoulders. "It's alright in here. If I can survive one month, I can survive another eleven." He grinned a little until he noticed that her eyes cast down to the handcuffs on his wrists. "I'm proud to be here, Y/N. Please don't blame yourself." He said, watching as she slowly nodded.

"I won't. I just...I still don't understand why. Why help me? You could've just driven me somewhere and dropped me off and...that would be it." Y/N whispered into the phone. Steve's eyebrows furrowed with concern, leaning closer.

"I helped because I couldn't imagine what would've happened to you if I didn't." He frowned, gently placing his finger against the glass. She did the same. "He won't hurt you anymore. He can't," Steve promised, "And I promise the second I'm out of here, I'm gonna make sure you never have to worry about him again."

The woman laughed softly, gazing at Steve. "You've done more than enough for little ol' me, Mr. Harrington." She promised. "It's funny, when people ask me about what happened, I never know how to describe you. I keep wanting to call you an angel, but I don't know if an angel would've done what you did."

Steve chuckled. "I'm sure they wouldn't."

She stared at Steve for a little, glancing to the officer who gave her a minute warning. "Steve?"

Slightly surprised by the use of his first name, he sat up. "Yes?"

"Because of you, I can sleep peacefully, knowing I'll never be hit again. Thank you, darlin'. Thank you." Y/N smiled, eyes watery.

Steve nodded before they both returned their phones to their places. Steve didn't want to move. He just wanted to keep looking at her to know that she was okay now. But he knew.

As he watched her walk away, he knew that she was going to be just fine.

The End.

#Spotify #stranger things #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #stranger things imagine #stranger things x reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #steve stranger things #steve #harrington

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elliespeach · 1 year

Text

no chances part four | ellie williams

˗ˏˋ"you still wanna ask me those questions?" ´ˎ˗

pairing: ellie williams x afab reader synopsis: you and ellie are on rival volleyball teams and after letting your competitive nature get the better of both of you, tensions are high on and off the court. warnings: 18+ we made it yall it's smut time. mentions of weed, foul language, explicit sexual descriptions, r! receiving fingering/head, thigh riding, scissoring, slight choking kink, fight then fuck kinda deal wordcount: 3.1k author note: hi hi lets pretend that the car ride actually took an hour they do it in minutes but lets just pretend ok? ok. i have been in a slump this week my brain is attacking me so i hope this is well enough for yall i didn't wanna leave u hanging!! i have plans i cannot share w you guys ab this series n i am hype asffff but anyway enjoy

when her car left the parking lot it was silent. the radio played softly but you or ellie didn’t utter a word. suddenly the reality of what she had offered sunk in, you two had an hour drive together. ellie focused on driving while you stared out into the window at the dark road. she had almost kissed you again and for the first time it didn’t raise any alarm bells in your head. everything was calm in those moments inches from her face, as if the world had been swept away from underneath the two of you. hearing the song on the radio dim out, your head turned to face her. ellie’s eyes were fixed on the road, one arm at the top of the wheel with the other resting on the gear knob. she caught you in her peripheral and her head turned slightly.

“we don’t even know wh–”

“i think you played–”

you both spoke over each other, attempting to awkwardly break the silence that had enveloped you. ellie laughed lightly and it was probably the first time you had ever heard her laugh, “you go,” she said, turning the wheel to make a left and you caught a glimpse at her hands, gripped firmly around the wheel and a memory of them doing the same to your hips flashed in your mind before you cleared your throat to rid of it.

“i was just gonna say we don’t even know who won the game,” you recalled, your hands placing themselves in your lap and pressing your legs together slightly.

“oh, yeah–” she swiveled her head to catch a quick glance at you before focusing back on the road. “my money’s on my team.” she said cockily, again turning the wheel with only one hand.

“only cause i wasn’t playing, right?” you banter, remembering her somewhat of a confession from your walk. she rolled her eyes but a small smile crept on the sides of her lips as she did.

“oh my god, that is not what i fuckin’ said,” she laughed again, another quick glance at you, who was smiling proudly earning another eye roll from her.

“what were you gonna say?” you asked her, peeling off your knee pads from your legs as they started to itch.

ellie glanced down at your movement, quickly pulling her eyes back up to the road, “oh uhm–” she readjusted her grip on the steering wheel. “just that, your coach was stupid to pull you, you were doing fine.”

your head snapped towards her, a dramatic shocked expression on your face. “a compliment? how did you not just implode spontaneously?”

ellie shifted in her seat, bringing her hand that was previously on the gear shift to the bottom of the wheel and leaning on the window with her now free arm. “just say thank you like a normal person?” her tone had a hint of annoyance but the sly smile on her face gave her away, and instead of prying it out of her you just accepted it.

“thanks–” your eyes darted back out to the road, out of the seclusion that was the community center and into a more urban area with street lamps and business on either side of the road. your eyes caught the highway sign right as you passed it and you sat up, your head turning to see it fade back into darkness as her car kept moving. “that was the highway,” you turned to her, her head snapping back as if to see the sign herself but her eyes returned to the road in front of her within seconds.

“fuck,” she uttered under her breath. the car started to slow down, taking a quick look around the road. “one sec,” she turned her car to the left, placing it as close to the curb as she could, then shifted the car into reverse. her arm swung around to the back of your headrest and her body moved with it. you couldn’t help but stare as she did, her eyes fixed on the road behind you. because of her positioning, you could see the outline of her muscle filled arm, as if she was flexing them. the movement of her upper body made her shirt ride up in the front, exposing some of her toned stomach and before any thoughts could come to mind you darted your eyes away.

ellie could feel as you watched and when she turned her head to meet your eyes they were already gone and she swiftly put the car back in drive before pulling away. the radio was the only thing audible in the car as she turned on the highway, picking up speed as she did and her car revved over the radio. you waited until she was comfortably cruising in the fast lane before speaking again, hating the words that came out of your mouth but not being able to do anything to stop yourself, “so can we talk about the big fat elephant that's in the car?”

ellie sighed while checking her rearview mirror then looking at you briefly, “if you want to,”

“why wouldn’t i?”

“i dunno,” she shrugged, keeping her eyes on the highway in front of her. it was quiet again but only for a moment before she continued. “i can’t give you an explanation, if that's what you want.” she almost sounded disappointed in herself.

“why not?”

ellie rolled her eyes, taking a deep breath in. “why don’t you give me an explanation?”

“because you kissed me, you cuddled with me, you almost kissed me again.” you listed off your reasons, using your fingers to count them off and she looked annoyed.

“i didn’t do it alone–” her tone was harsh, as if the conversation was treading on thin ice.

“yeah, but you started it.” you returned her attitude, feeling a familiar fight coming on.

“do you want me to sit here and tell you that i did it for a reason? there was no reason–” ellie used her hand that was resting on the gears to emphasize her words, feeling agitated that you brought this up when the ride was going smoothly. the high was wearing off between the two of you and with it went the calm that had settled too.

“why are you being so cagey?” your voice raised slightly. ellie switched lanes, seeing the exit she had to take in the distance.

“why are you asking so many fucking questions?” she returned your raised voice, turning the wheel to take the exit. the ramp was long and curved and she slowed to a stop at the red light at the end of it. taking the time to turn to you, a grimace on her face.

you groaned, crossing your arms and leaning your knees against the car door away from her. “just thought we could have a legit conversation, but that seems out of your capabilities.”

ellie pressed on the gas when the light turned green, making a turn towards your campus. the drive had felt like the longest and the shortest in your life, and now you kind of wished you took the bus. she remained quiet as you did, noticing your position in her passenger seat. “jesus fuckin’ christ,” she breathed out as the welcome sign to your campus came into view.

you started again, “i just think its funny becau–”

the car came to a halt on the deserted road sending you forward and you looked at her in disbelief. she quickly put the car in park and as you looked at her face only illuminated by the orange dashboard in front of her, you couldn’t read her. “what the hell, ellie?” you questioned, looking around and you thought she wanted you to walk the rest of the way.

her hands came up to your face, redirecting your focus to her. she cupped your cheeks and brought your lips to hers. although the anger for her in you was still firmly in your chest, you didn’t fight her instead leaning further into the kiss. her tongue found yours like it had in the bathroom weeks ago, slipping it’s way over your tongue harshly sending shivers throughout your body. butterflies danced in your stomach as her hand left your face, wandering down your body to explore.

you wanted to be closer, the middle console blocking any other physical contact you two could share. while still letting her tongue roam your mouth, you moved over the console and placed yourself in her lap. it was uncomfortable, but her hands instantly wrapped around your hips and slid down to grab your ass. you rocked your body against hers, liking the feeling of her underneath you and she squeezed your ass tightly. your lips disconnected from hers and instead found her neck, leaving sloppy wet kisses all over it. ellie’s breathing was barely recovering and as you kissed her neck, incoherent mumbles and short quick breaths filled your ears.

her hands that had been running up and down your back found their way in between you two, groping your tits firmly and you hummed against her neck at the feeling. the pressure formed between your legs all the faster as she massaged them, keeping one hand placed on your breast, squeezing as much as she could, she used her other hand and traced it up your chest to your neck, wrapping her fingers lightly around it. this pulled you back from her neck, making eye contact with her green eyes. though the green had vanished, replaced with dilated eyes glossed over with every touch you placed on her.

she studied your face, her hand still around your neck. her head tilted, taking you all in while you straddled her lap and a sly smile formed on her wet lips, “you still wanna ask me those questions?” her voice raspy, hoarse even and she tightened her grip on your neck ever so slightly. way different than it was before and it took everything in you not to melt in her lap.

“shut up,” you groaned, bringing your face back down to kiss her again, rolling your body against her. you could feel her smirk against the kiss, retreating her hands back down to your hips to move with them against her. the smirk didn’t diminish and this time it was you who snuck your hand up to her neck, gripping with the same firmness she had, you broke the kiss but hovered over her lips as her eyes opened to meet yours separated by only millimeters, “you are insufferable.”

a light chuckle came from her, sinking her fingers into your hips, “and yet here you are,” her neck extending to allow your grip to remain. there was a beat of silence, both of your heavy breathing over powering the radio that still played lightly in the background. you let go of her neck, sliding your hand down her torso and feeling her tits through the layers of clothing. she attached her mouth to your neck as you had done, sucking a little too hard and you worried about hickeys but it felt too good in the moment to tell her to stop. but she did and her words bounced off of your now sensitive skin, “do you have a roommate?”

that’s how you ended up barging into your dorm with her hands all over you, slamming the door shut behind her without ever breaking the kiss. she pushed you against the closest wall, gripping your skin in her hands before trailing kisses down your neck to your stomach, getting on her knees as she slid off your shorts to reveal the very small underwear you had on. she kissed your pussy through your underwear and you had to stop your knees from buckling at the feeling. a wet spot was very obviously noticeable on your panties and it only intensified ellie’s efforts. using her teeth she bit down on the top of your underwear, pulling it down as much as she could before your dripping cunt was in front of her. she used her fingers to move your panties down further, running her hands back up your legs as she looked up at you with lustful eyes.

she lifted one of your legs, slinging it over her shoulder before plunging her tongue into your folds. you bit down on your lip to keep from moaning and your fingers laced themselves in her auburn hair, her tongue already better than anything you could do to yourself. it traced circles on your clit and as she shoved herself deeper into your pussy, you couldn’t help the moans that slipped out of your mouth. with hearing this, ellie was brought back to the bathroom and her brain went into overdrive. she removed her tongue only to then suck on your clit, feeling your leg shake on her shoulder and she brought a finger up to run through your slick.

she looked at you as she did, her mouth a wet mess and you were in shambles above her. her finger teasingly ran up and down your exposed cunt, giving you just enough but not nearly anything close to the feeling over her tongue. your head leaned back against the wall and your eyes shut tight and she tsk’d, still moving her finger lightly, “eyes on me–” she breathed out, waiting for you to look back at her. when you did, a small smile formed on her lips and she brought her slender finger down your cunt. she slid her finger in, never taking her eyes off of you and watching as you crumble before her. when your chest started to heave as she thrust her finger in and out of you, she brought her mouth back to your clit.

you were a mess. dripping on her face and bucking your hips as she went to work, the sensation feeling too good and you felt the familiar twinge below your belly button. you were saying her name between breaths and it only made ellie go harder, pumping her fingers as quickly as she could and revolving her tongue through your slick. without warning she retreated, kissing your stomach while she stood back up. your hands found her face to drag her into a long kiss, she pulled you off of the wall and backed you into your own bed. your elbows propped you up as you watched her tower over you, you used this time to yank off your shirt and sports bra, leaving your chest bare for her.

ellie slipped off her own shorts, her underwear with it before climbing on top of you, reconnecting her lips to yours. you tugged on her shirt and it was off in seconds thrown god knows where. she sat up, tracing her fingers along your body as you laid beneath her and it looked like she wanted to say something but refrained herself. instead, lifting up one of your legs and placing herself so her own drenched pussy was atop of yours. she rocked her hips back and forth, feeling the wetness from both of you spread. mumbles left her mouth as she held your leg in the air, covering her own moans by placing soft and sweet kisses on your leg. ellie steadied herself by clutching onto one of your breasts. her pace began to be ragged, feeling herself come nearly undone. she looked down at you, mouth open and eyes in a haze as you gazed back up at her and despite nearing her finish she leaned down so that her thigh was now pressed against your cunt. you whined into her mouth as she kissed you, the tipping sensation leaving as quickly as it came.

she shuffled off of you, leaning her back to the wall and patted her lap. while you sat down on her lap, she removed her sports bra. her hands fell to your figure and she gazed at you, that unreadable expression still plastered on her face. she looked down at you on her lap and shook her head lightly, “like this–” she moved your body, lifting your leg to move her own out of the way so you were just sitting on her thigh. she tucked your knee in between her legs and her green eyes focused back on you.

moving your hips on her thigh, ellie kneaded on your tits. she enveloped them in her hands while your knee rubbed against her cunt. your hands rested on her legs behind you, back arching and tits out. ellie wasn’t able to conceal her moans at the sight of you and the feeling deep in her stomach. her hands dug into your thighs, pulling them with every thrust of your hips. “h-holy fuck,” she tossed her head back. the sound of her voice was enough for you to start moving faster, and as you did ellie straightened her posture. she wrapped her arms around your back, pulling you closer while you rocked desperately against her thigh.

your foreheads crashed, heavy and hot breath spread across each of your faces. with this, you unraveled. cursing coming out of your mouth along with her name in pants while you shook around her thigh, feeling on top of the world. ellie’s hands moved to your tits, watching you cum on her and feeling your tits in her hands she tipped over the edge as well. her breathing was ragged against you and her forehead left yours while she tipped her head back, eyes rolling. you fell on her chest, while both of you tried to return your breathing back to normal.

she sat with you for a few minutes in silence, you had moved off of her thigh and laid beside her, arm draped over her stomach. her arm was on your back, rubbing small circles. after a bit more of quiet, which seemed to be one of your specialities, you sat up and her eyes followed you. and again, you both spoke over each other.

“i should go to bed–”

“i should probably go–”

without much less, ellie pulled herself off the bed and collected her clothes that had been scattered. you pulled on your own shirt and the awkward silence was heavy in the room. after she had dressed she moved towards the door, hand on the handle. “i’ll see you at the next game?” her eyes scanned your face.

“yeah, i’ll see you then,” you said painfully and without so much of a second glance she left, the door swinging shut behind her.

part five

#ellie williams #ellie williams x you #ellie williams fic #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams smut #ellie williams fanfiction #ellie williams tlou #ellie williams the last of us #modern!ellie williams

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seethesin · 8 months

Text

peace and quiet

pairing: Villanelle x Assassin!F!Reader

tags/warnings: sexual content, car sex, dirty talk, fingering, edging (18+, mdni)

a/n: bet ya didn't see this coming 😏 truthfully, i've had this scenario on my mind for about a month now. i had to write this before i got through the rest of my drafts. im also a bottom!villanelle fan oops enjoy! gif credit.

The last way you wanted to spend your Friday evening was stuck in a Ford Fiesta with the world's most infuriating assassin, Villanelle. But here you both were, cramped and cranky as you wasted hours watching a man go through his nightly routine. Truthfully, you didn't know much about your target except his name, James Fitzgerald. His dossier was light and you suspected that further information wasn't yours to know.

As your handler would say: the less you knew, the better.

Silently, you watched as James moved from room to room in his home; starting in his bedroom, wandering into the kitchen, and finally, settling into the living room. Couldn't the Twelve have a vendetta against someone more interesting?

The blonde next to you must have thought the same thing. Immediately, she turned the radio on, flicking through the stations until she hummed in approval.

"Oh, I love Britney," she muses, beginning to sing along to the chorus of Womanizer as it pumps through the car's surround sound system.

You refrain from groaning.

"Villanelle, I need you to stop." Your voice is strained as your eyes are trained in front of you.

She's completely off-key but sings without a care in the world. Obviously, she's ignoring you and you exhale slowly, squeezing your eyes shut. Villanelle was good at what she did. Great even. But her hyperactive nature and flair for dramatics made you dread any time the two of you had to work together.

It wasn't just her obnoxious nature that made it so difficult for you to work with her. From the outlandish yet stylish outfits she donned to the way she held herself on and off the job, you thought she was stunning. But now, being in such close quarters only seemed to intensify those feelings. Your stomach did somersaults at each pesky thought, unable to get them out of your head quick enough. Entertaining those ideas was a distraction you couldn't afford.

Not in this line of work.

It's just one mission, you find yourself thinking, blinking your eyes open. I just need to get through one mission with her and then—

And then you will work with her again when the Twelve will it. You will still have these terribly ridiculous feelings that you will, once again, have to dissect like you are now. You grit your teeth and instead focus your boring gaze on James Fitzgerald's wrinkled forehead.

Wordlessly, you turn the radio knob towards you, muting the music so you can focus. Villanelle's contralto voice cuts through the silence like a blade and it takes her a few moments to realize what you've done.

"Hey! I was having fun!"

You roll your eyes, tapping your fingertips against the steering wheel.

"I wasn't."

Villanelle scoffs, feigning offense before leaning back. Aggressively, she adjusts her seat, allowing it to fully recline. She lays down, eyes glued to the car ceiling before crossing her arms over her chest petulantly.

You were ready to further accentuate her childishness as she muttered about how you were a 'party pooper,' but paused. James was getting up and walking towards his front door. He was letting someone inside, holy shit! This needed to be documented.

In the dark, you felt for your phone that was supposed to be on the console. Miscalculating, you reached over farther than necessary and instead grabbed—

Villanelle gasped, body arching forward.

Oh.

Your fingers gripped the flesh of her inner thigh, dangerously close to the hem of her shift dress. Blush immediately crawls over your cheeks and you become a stammering mess.

"Oh my god," you ramble, going to remove your hand. "I'm so sorry, Villanelle. I thought that—"

You don't get to finish your sentence. Her hand is over yours and she shoves your palm in between her legs. The wet cotton of her underwear greets your fingers and the heat it emits makes you flatline.

This wasn't real. None of this could be real.

"I know how you look at me."

The statement throws you off kilter and you gape like a fish. Were you that obvious? The idea makes you nauseous; how the hell did Villanelle know your feelings better than you could even comprehend them?

"Stop thinking," she husks and her confidence seems to spread to you like wildfire.

James Fitzgerald and his unannounced guest are long forgotten as you shift in your seat, turning to face Villanelle. Your finger pads inquisitively drag up the length of her clothed slit. Her breathing grows heavier the closer you stroke towards her clit. You can make out her teeth digging into her lower lip and the mischievous glint in her eyes as she stares back at you.

She’s begging you to keep her entertained.

Cautiously, you pull your hand away. The loss of contact squeezes a whimper from her throat, but it dies as she watches you slip two fingers between your lips. You suck slowly, refusing to break eye contact with her before releasing them with a soft pop. You don’t miss the way her tongue darts out to wet her lips.

“Are you going to behave?” Villanelle nods like a bobblehead, practically rutting her body closer to where your hand used to be.

You chuckle. “Good girl.”

Wet fingers glide up her bare leg, meeting at the junction just below her thigh and cunt. Gently, your fingers worm underneath the waistband of her underwear. Painfully slow, you tug them down so that they pool at her knees. They are soaked and the sound of the blonde’s panting is amplified in the enclosed quiet of the car.

"Oh baby," you taunt, watching as she presses her thighs together. You want to swallow her whole.

"Is this all for me?"

"Yes," she sighs out instantaneously, parting her legs as your hand connects back to her cunt.

Your middle finger delicately slides through Villanelle's folds, exploring her velvety flesh. Tracing circles around her labia, you finally brush just underneath her clit. She jerks forward, desperately chasing your touch.

"Villanelle." Her name is a warning on your tongue, tutting gently as you watch her squirm. Your middle finger is fixed in the same position and her fingers curl around your wrist.

"Be nice," she pleads and no matter what your plan was initially, you couldn't deny her further. You nod and gently, your middle finger sinks inside her.

Villanelle tenses momentarily, adjusting to the intrusion before relaxing. She squeezes your wrist, silently goading you to move. You comply, thrusting deeper inside of her.

Your finger moves leisurely at first, more so to savor the first-time feeling of her silky flesh enveloping you. Gradually, you pick up the pace. Her slick drools down the length of your finger and the obscene squelching makes you blush.

Thank god for the dark.

A stream of moans bubbles from Villanelle's throat as her fingernails dig into your wrist. Her other hand moves to her lips, her teeth sinking into the knuckle of her index finger to muffle herself. In response, your finger curls inside of her. She keens, her eyes rolling back as she shoves her hips forward.

"Don't do that," you chide, pumping against the spongy walls of her cunt. "I want everyone to hear how good I'm gonna fuck you."

Her gaze peeks through her lashes, blinking in surprise at the vulgarity of your statement. She's beautifully flushed and the image is seared into your mind. Your ring finger presses inside of her and she gasps, finally removing her hand from her mouth.

"Don't be mean," Villanelle mewls and you can't stop the smile tugging at your lips.

By now, the windows have fogged over in the car. The air between you has risen at least ten degrees higher and you match Villanelle's ragged panting, hyperfocused on every expression she makes. Her hair fans out like a golden halo, illuminating her furrowed brows and parted lips. You want to kiss her, but you instead settle for swiping your thumb across her clit.

Villanelle's chest heaves when you suddenly piston your fingers inside her. She sloppily pushes down to meet your thrusts while her head lolls back against the car seat. By the way her walls fluttered against your sheathed digits, you knew her orgasm was imminent.

James Fitzgerald's departure was also imminent.

Suddenly, the flash of headlights appears in your peripheral vision. A midsized sedan rushes past the front of your rental car. James is driving while his guest in question is in the passenger seat. Your eyes go wide; the memory of exactly why you and Villanelle were here to begin with hits you like a truck.

You withdraw your fingers from Villanelle's pussy and she cries out in both confusion and frustration. Scrambling, she pulls the seat back up so she can properly glower at you.

"What the fuck?" She yells, softening only slightly as she watches you suck your fingers clean before putting the car in drive.

"It's James," you start, pressing the defogger button near the bottom of the dashboard. "I'm gonna tail him."

"I was about to cum!"

You glance at Villanelle quickly as she complains, tossing a cocky smirk in her direction.

"I guess you'll just have to wait then."

#villanelle #villanelle x reader #villanelle x you #villanelle smut #villanelle imagine #oksana astankova #oksana astankova x reader #killing eve #lesbian #wlw #lgbtq #smut #fanfiction #fanfic

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disturbedbeautywrites · 9 months

Text

Time for a change - Jake Seresin Imagine x Bestie Reader

Warnings: physical and verbal violence, cursing, mentions of blood. Mentions of physical abuse and domestic violence

A/N: Here is officially the part 2 to ticking time bomb!

2 days, that’s how long your boyfriend kept the promise to be sober. That’s how long your relationship was good for. Two whole days. On the third day, he came home in a pissy mood from work and had decided to stop at the hard deck on the way home. You looked at the clock, the numbers changing to show it was now midnight. You hadn’t expected him home this late, but thought he just got held up.

However, him staggering in told you he wasn’t keeping his promises. You were fed up. “I’m not doing this. I’m done.” Your words were firm as you went to walk away from him, but he caught your arm in his grip. “No, you’re not.” He smiled at you as he held you tight enough to bruise your wrist. “Let me go.” It was a mix between a whine and a demand, your wrist trying to writhe itself free. He refused and just held you tighter, until he finally let go and you ended up hitting yourself in the eye, hard. You swore and staggered back as you put your hand over it, instantly seeing him become apologetic. “No, I’m done with this shit.” You shook your head and walked to grab your keys, storming out of the house and into your car. You sat there for a few seconds, trying to decide what to do.

12:30 flashed on your dash, the only light in a seemingly endless darkness of your front seat. Your head was leaning against the steering wheel as you swore under your breath and opened up your phone to snap a quick picture of your face. There was already a bruise forming around your eye, the purple and blue colors starting to poke out and rise to the surface. “Damn it!” You sighed and tried to figure out where to go. You had just broken off things with the guy you lived with, so you only had one other place to go.

You dialed Jake’s number and let your thumb hover over the call button before eventually giving up. You felt awful dragging him into this again. You didn’t even know if he was awake. It was almost 1 am by now, and no doubt he had things to do in a few hours. But, you still found yourself throwing your phone down and driving to the all too familiar house that Jake shared with Bradley. They claimed to not be best friends, but you saw right through the act.

You knocked on the door and waited, gnawing on your bottom lip anxiously. “Melanie, I told you I’m not-“ You heard a gruff voice at the door as it opened, revealing a slumber stricken Bradley. His hair was messy and his eyes were half open as he glanced down at you. “Oh, shit. Hey, Y/N.” His face softened as he saw the tears rolling down your cheeks and he let you inside. “He’s in his room.” He nodded towards Jake’s door as you walked over to it. You twisted the knob, sighing when you realizing it was locked. You knocked softly, hearing a rustling inside. “God damn it, Rooster. I told you to knock it off.” His sleepy voice brought out the Texas twang more and you sniffled and looked down at your feet, staying quiet. “It isn’t me, dickhead! It’s Y/N!” Bradley’s voice was irate and grumbling as he gave you a nod and headed back to his room, the door closing behind him.

At the mention of your name there was a pause before the door finally peeked open. He looked out at you with a raised eyebrow, his upset from the last interaction you two had evident. He waited for you to say something before he let out a sigh and leaned against the doorframe. “Fight?” He asked simply and you gave s curt nod, picking at your nails. “Bad one.” You hated this. You hated the small talk. You hated the awkwardness. “Listen, im here for you. But, how many more times-“ You shook your head and cut him off, not looking up at him. “None. I broke it off. I left.” Your voice was muffled as you finally looked up at him, the black and blue bruise showing up in the moonlight.

He swore under his breath as he lightly ran his finger tips along the underside of your eye, holding up your chin to get a better look. He inspected the bruise, tilting your head towards him. “Did he?” He couldn’t even get the full sentence out as you shook your head and showed him your wrist, that was now a dark bluish purple. “No, but the eye happened when I was trying to get away from him.” Jake tenderly wrapped his fingers around your wrist, using it to pull you into his chest. He held you close, his heartbeat soothing you as you finally let a few tears slip. “I’m not going to let him hurt you anymore.” His words were a solid promise, his lips pressing to the crown of your head as he held you as close as he could. “Come on, let’s get some rest then we’ll figure everything out tomorrow.” Jake let you into his room where you got comfy on his bed and quickly fell asleep, exhaustion taking over your body.

*********************

The next day was full of talking with Bradley and Jake and trying to plan out when and how you could easily get your stuff. Jake and Bradley both agreed to talk to Maverick and try to get a few days off of work so they could go to your house without Nathan being there and get your stuff. It would be the easiest that way, you had all decided.

That would take place later this week, for now you were basically just going to be living in the clothes you have and the clothes your friends let you use. Natasha, for instance, was willing to let you borrow some of hers and she was willing to take you shopping. Jake was willing to let you steal his hoodies and his sweatpants and him and Bradley were willing to turn their gym room into a room for you. That was hard for them to give up, but Jake said it was worth it.

The three of you were lounging on the couch, not much noise between you before Bradley spoke up. “Do you guys wanna go to the hard deck? Coyote and the rest of the guys are going.” He looked up from his phone to the two of you, sorry evident on your face. “That’s his favorite place..” you mumble, nerves evident as you started to gnaw on your bottom lip. “I’ll protect you. Besides, I could go for giving him a piece of my mind.” Jake gave you his signature smirk as you looked up at him, eyes sparkling in mischief. “Jake…” Unease was very evident in your voice, your leg starting to nervously bounce as you sat up a bit. “Come on, you know we’ll take care of you. We always do.” Bradley was trying to comfort you now, throwing you a soft smile as you thought about it.

You hesitantly nodded and the two boys exchanged knowing looks as you all got up to go get ready to go. You all three climbed into the bronco, Bradley insisting on driving this time. You sat between the two boys, eyes out the front windshield as you tried to calm your nerves. You were walking into the lions den, you had an army behind you, but you still felt the fear creeping up and into your stomach.

When you pulled into the parking lot of the hard deck, the three of you got out of the bronco and walked inside. The rest of the squad was already there, and Natasha immediately walked up to you and engulfed you in a huge hug. She lead you over to the bar, ordering you a drink. Jake shot her a look that told her to keep an eye on you and she nodded in obligation. The two of you spent some time catching up and ranting before walking back over to the pool tables. Natasha walked off to talk to someone else and you slotted yourself next to Jake, his arm immediately going around you. “Having fun?” His words were soft and genuine as he squeezed your shoulder, hoping the answer was yes. You nodded and gave him a smile, opening your mouth to answer before it quickly snapped shut.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t the bag man with my sloppy seconds.” You heard Nathan’s voice come through the crowd and Jake immediately put himself between the two of you. He pushed you behind him, bicep flexing as he grit his teeth and looked at Bradley. Him and the rest of the daggers made their way over, knowing this would get ugly. “I’m nobody’s sloppy seconds.” You tried to make yourself sound tougher than you felt, Nathan laughing harshly in reply. “Sweetheart, you need an emphasis on the word sloppy.” His words were like a dagger and you winced.

“You know he’s given me no choice but to kill him now, right?” Jake’s eyes were the coldest you had ever seen them and his voice was dripping with venom. He was tired of seeing this happen to you, it was time to take action and end this once and for all. He took a step towards Nathan, boy boys puffing their chests up as Jake pushed the other boy out onto the deck. “Oh, you think you can hurt me?” Your ex boyfriend’s condescending tone was like nails on a chalkboard as you just swallowed thickly and watched as he took the first punch, it landing on Jake’s cheek and mouth. Jake just smirked and felt his lip, feeling it start to swell up as he spit a little blood into the sand nearby.

Jake had always been very good at fighting, unfortunately you knew that personally. In high school, he got in quite a few fights protecting you or his sisters. He was very protective of his girls and he got really good at knowing where and when to strike. He reared back and landed a hard punch right to Nathan’s nose, undoubtedly breaking it according to the loud crunch that you heard follow the blow and the blood pouring from his nose. Nathan staggered backwards, swearing under his breath as he reached up to try and stop the bleeding. “You son of a bitch.” He was seething, almost looking like he was foaming at the mouth.

You looked around nervously, noticing a crowd starting to form to see who might win the fight. It made you nauseous and you just wanted to go home. You watched as Nathan barely managed to give Jake a black eye before Jake landed another devastating blow to your exes jaw, sending him tumbling to his knees.

“Wow, you sure gave up fast.” Jake had a cocky smirk on his face as Nathan just sat there, bruised and bloody. Jake was wanting to bask in the glory when he realized you were nearby and he immediately turned to look for you, his breath hitching in his chest. Where were you?

He searched the people around him before his eyes finally landed on you. You had moved towards the back after Jake threw the last punch, a shy but proud smile on your lips as you gave him a thumbs up. He made his way towards you, your arms immediately wrapping around him. “You worry me to death when you fight like that.” Your words were muffled by his shirt as he hugged you, chuckling as he looked down at you. He had a black eye and a split lip and it made you frown. “That has to hurt.” He shook his head and instinctively let his tongue run over the cut on his lip, half wincing. “It’s not too bad.”

You just sighed and shook your head, taking his wrist and leading him back towards the bar. “Well, at least let me get you a whiskey and get you cleaned up and hopefully no one calls the police.” You gave him a bashful smile as you pulled him back in through the hard deck doors, immediately going up to the bar and ordering a shot of whiskey for Jake. He drank the shot and then you pulled him towards the bathroom at the hard deck, ready to get him cleaned up.

“Nope, hang on.” Jake held back before he ordered a shot for you and another for him, the both of you downing it. “We need liquid courage before you save my life.” He was so dramatic. You rolled your eyes and just shook your head before you went through the door into the bathroom. “Sit down and just hush. Let me get to work.”

For the first time, Jake did as he was told.

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mockerycrow · 8 months

Text

REV ON THE REDLINE (Roommate!Gaz x GN!Reader)

roommate!gaz masterlist — gaz picture credit/source

summary; the first time you were in the car with Kyle was a memorable one. — Kyle is 17/18 in this fic, so the year range is 2011-2014. — 708 words

[WARNINGS; slight heartache, good memories, missing gaz hours.]

WHEN YOU would mention coming to visit Kyle, he absolutely demanded that he would take you on drives with him; in his words, it was a “necessity”. You always laughed—you knew he had a car, worked real hard for it himself and you knew he was proud of it, as this car was his first big purchase. You didn’t see any pictures of the car during your conversations as Kyle claimed you needed to see “the beauty in person”. You imagined yourself pushing the side of his head annoyedly from his stubbornness, making you laugh a bit harder than usual.

What you did not expect is when he came to pick you up from the airport, he arrived in a shiny red convertible. A “2004 Cadillac XLR” is what Kyle said. The interior was well taken care of, the seats were nice and you admit the area surrounding the gear knob being wood was an.. Interesting choice—Kyle told you to take that back, being possessive of his car—but he helped you put his bags in the trunk, and told you to hop in with his classic grin you’ve never gotten sick of.

“Better buckle up, love.” Kyle smirked whilst he clicked in his own seatbelt and adjusted his overhead mirror. You made a face while trying to hold in your laugh which he looked at you and tsk’d, and he swat your arm with the back of his hand. “C’mon, let me have a bit of fun, yeah?” Kyle uttered, which caused you to laugh. You buckled yourself into the passenger’s seat and he started his car.

He turned his headlights on as it was night time and he pulled out of the airport parking lot. You turned on the radio, but you didn’t turn it up too loud. You glanced at him a couple of times as he drove down the road with a mischievous expression; one that widened each time you looked at him. “Kyle..” You said, your voice laced with a warning tone. “What?” Kyle laughed, his thumb tapping against the steering wheel to the beat of the song that was on—it was Foxey Lady by Jimi Hendrix if you recall right—and you pursed your lips together. “I’m not doin’ anything, sweets.”

You raised an eyebrow and let out an “mhm”, where you clearly did not believe him. The wind blew against your skin as the car went down twists and turns. The car began to slow, approached a red light, pulling up beside another car. You don’t remember the car’s brand, but you do remember that Kyle pointed the car out to you. A familiar song started to play on the radio and your eyes widened when you heard Kyle’s deep chuckle, and you watched as his hand grabbed his gear knob. Your heart dropped to your stomach because he was going to do what he told you he would.

“Kyle, I sweAR TO GOD—” You yell the light turned green, and Kyle bursted out laughing as he revved the car to the redline. What scared you worse is that the car you were next to did the exact same thing. You’re suddenly slammed into your seat as the car takes off down the long stretch of road, which caused you to swear and you desperately grabbed onto anything and everything. “Kyle, ohmygod, you son of a bitch—” You snarled out of fear as you looked in your side mirror, the other car’s headlights rapidly leaving your view. Kyle couldn’t stop laughing as his engine roared, but you were sure your heart was pounding louder than his damn car.

This is one luxury you don’t really have anymore now that Kyle’s in the military. He’s gone all the time. Yes, he still owns that old, red convertible—but it’s in a storage unit. Your heart hurts when the familiar song plays on the radio because you know he’s across the goddamn world and isn’t with you to laugh about him scaring the everliving shit out of you.

You pull up into a gated parking lot that held storage units, singing along to the song that’s playing on your radio. “Hear my motor screamin’ while I’m tearin’ up the street..”

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seat-safety-switch · 9 months

Text

You could fry an egg inside my car lately. I park outside, so the sun is always shining through the windows, heating up the interior. The peeling purple tint that was installed poorly in the mid-90s doesn't do much against it. As a result, every time I climb in, I basically scorch my hand on either the steel shift knob, the exposed metal of the worn-out steering wheel, or the exposed metal where my seat cushion used to be but currently is not.

Now, I want to warn you before we go any further. Although I did say you can fry an egg inside my car, I don't recommend doing so. For one thing, the egg is going to get a lot of microplastics inside it, and possibly a little bit of ash from the turbocharger burning off all that leaky oil. That's not really "health code," and I've got enough problems with bylaw as it is. It's a metaphorical egg, okay?

There were a lot of ways that I tried to solve this problem, but by far the worst was attaching a roll-out canvas cover. I stole it from an RV dealership, because I felt that the needs of the many (myself and everyone who has to interact with me) outweigh the needs of the few (the owner of the dealership.) Any idiot could tell you how this was supposed to work: I'd unfurl the awning and put it in a position that blocks the sun.

Unfortunately, physics has a thing called "wind." If you're not familiar, wind is so powerful that entire countries cook their toast using it. In my case, the canvas made a sort of white-trash sailboat sail. What's worse, the sail clapping against the body of my car sealed up all the giant rust holes through which the wind usually blew harmlessly through. With those two phenomenon combined, and also the parking brake I have that doesn't exactly work, my car blew down the street and well away from my house.

Normally, I would have been excited about being able to cover 40 miles without using a single drop of gasoline, but it's not nearly as much fun for your car to crash through a house when you're not behind the wheel at the time. I ended up telling the police some bullshit about it being a prototype autonomous car, which gave me enough time to cut the awning loose and escape while they looked up which billionaire was involved in funding it.

That said, the interior was nice and cool. All that brickwork I blew through did a fantastic job sinking the heat. Another success!

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wardenparker · 2 months

Note

You know I need me some Connie forehead kisses, so Detective Tim Rockford and “Wait! Don’t leave.”

I mean, there’s so many options so I’m tossin’ that one up there, but I’m also gonna say “Connie’s Choice”! You hit a massive milestone so you should getta celebrate however you see fit, darlin’.

Detective Tim Rockford and “____” <- You fill in the prompt.

*points to my forehead*

Right here! When you’re ready. No pressure. 😁😘🥰

My darling Dax 🧡 You get ALL the forehead kisses, but unfortunately also a very sad microfic.

Tim Rockford. 2,332 words. "Wait! Please don't leave!" Co-written with @absurdthirst Warnings: Explicit descriptions of crime scene, death, murder, domestic dispute (verbal), angst

The rain beats against the windshield, his knuckles tight against the steering wheel as the headlights slice through the inky black of the night. Tim doesn’t pay attention, he can’t. The blare of the police radio cuts through the silence in the car, his thoughts racing in circles as he drives as if he’s on autopilot.

Sharp winds whip around his car outside, an annoyance of white noise in the background that only makes his blood pressure rise when it shakes his little car. He knows the address he’s driving to. He knows it by heart.

******

“I just wish you would put me first once.” You express as he jams the loose items that are scattered across the dresser into his pockets. Two dollars and thirty-seven cents in change, a pocket knife, a losing scratch off ticket, a receipt from Jimmy’s Hot Dogs, a random mint, the ever present cigarette lighter and his wallet. The badge is tucked into his jacket, along with his car keys, hanging on the coat tree near the front door.

“I got a call.” He huffs, annoyed by the guilt that is settling on his shoulders. “You know the drill.”

“Can you even tell me the last time you ate dinner at home?” The last thing you want is to be cruel to him but you’re trying to make a point. Your husband of seven years and partner of ten has been slipping further and further from your fingers with every passing day and you’re at your wits end with how to get it to stop.

Your name is like a sigh of frustration and he pauses, turning tired eyes on you. He’s tired of the same arguments over and over again. “I’ll be back.” He tells you, turning and walking towards the door.

“Tim, wait!” The anguish that cracks your voice comes with tears — guilty, burning ones that you were trying not to let free. “Please don’t go.”

His resolve cracks and he turns, his hand on the door knob. “Babe, I have to go.” He doesn’t— not really. It’s not his case, but he feels like it’s connected to that fucking mystery that has taken over his life. As soon as he can solve it, he will fix this gully between the two of you. “I’ll be back in a few hours and we can talk, okay?” You don’t answer, but he takes that as your agreement. “I love you.”

“Be safe.” Unable to even bring yourself to say that you love him back — because you do, you absolutely fucking do but right now it feels like he’s just saying the words to placate you — you turn away and slip back into the kitchen. Tim is never home and you work a 9-5, so the chores pile up relentlessly. Maybe you’ll put dishes in the dishwasher and clothes in the dryer and go to bed early.

Walking out the door feels like he is fighting against himself, but the urge to close this case, to finish things off is too great to ignore. He pushes back the sight of your hurt face out of his mind and pulls his cell phone out of his pocket. Walking towards his car, he’s not Tim, your husband, he’s changed into Detective Rockford.

******

“Detective Rockford?” The primary on the case is already there, and he wasn’t expecting back up. But the seasoned detective that he knows well is a welcome sight, even if Rockford doesn’t quite look himself.

“Hey Jimmy.” Tim gives a wan smile before looking towards the tape. “What do we got?”

The young detective has worked hard for his place on the force and seen plenty, but this one is a lot even for him. “Female. Forties. Stabbed to death in her own living room. Pretty gruesome stuff, honestly, and you know these things don’t usually get to me.”

Tim swallows, closing his eyes and swaying where he stands. “Do—” he chokes out and his voice falters. “Do we have the guy?” He manages after a moment, trying not to cry right there.

“We have tire tracks, finger prints, and plenty of detritus under the vic’s fingernails. She fought hard.” Jimmy shuffles, not used to seeing his mentor this emotional. “Some of the wounds look defensive. And the weapon was left at the scene.”

His lip trembles and he inhales sharply. “Are you— are you sure it’s the homeowner?” He asks shakily, praying for a miracle.

“ID in her purse matches.” The younger man confirms. “Seems like she had barely gotten home. Might’ve been a robbery gone bad, but we need to take a more thorough look before that call gets made.”

Tim shakes his head, body trembling and he screams out your name, rushing towards the house. “Baby! Baby, come out!” He shouts, ducking under the tape and bolting through the door. “Sweetheart? Baby? Answer me!”

“Detective Rockford!” Jimmy swirls to run after him, not understanding what’s caused such a monumental break in his colleague’s behavior. Obviously he knows the victim, otherwise it makes even less sense.

Tim can’t stop, doesn’t even hear Detective Fallon as he rushes into the house and over to the body that is draped in a white sheet, the thick material slowly being soaked red with blood. Choking as he drops to his knees, he reaches up to draw the sheet back.

“Ma’am, you really can’t be—” Detective Fallon’s voice is part of a sea of white noise, unheard and unnoticed by Tim as he reaches for the corner of the sheet he absolutely shouldn’t be touching. “Ma’am, this is an active crime scene!”

But you don’t hear him, blasting past the young detective to stumble into your own living room, where the figure of your sister is crumpled in the middle of the carpet and covered in a sheet. “Get away from her!” Is all you can think to say, burning tears choking anything but fear and anguish out of existence.

Your voice makes him freeze, head whipping up to see you and his eyes widen. Choking out your name, he then whispers— “Is it— are you?”

“Tim?” He’s the last person you ever expected to see again, let alone in this house, but suddenly you’re actually glad for it. He looks like he’s seen a ghost, but you’re shaking with fear for the reality of who is under that sheet.

You are alive. His eyes dart back to the sheet and he looks back at you with a small frown. “You’re here.” He breathes out, immediately understanding. Since the divorce, you had lived with your sister. He stands and moves over towards you. “Baby.” He knows this will hurt you and he wants to take away the pain if he can.

“Is that…” You don’t have to finish the question. The boot poking out from under the sheet is the pair she borrowed from you, and the blood spattered purse with an evidence tag next to it is so familiar you would know it in your sleep. “She accidentally grabbed my purse when she left for work this morning.” You choke out the explanation but lurch forward when your knees buckle and your heart squeezes up into your throat. “Was it—were they—was it supposed to be me?”

“I don’t know.” You are about to break, he’s witnessed enough families to know. Stepping closer, he strokes your arm and looks into your beautiful, devastated eyes. “I don’t know baby, but I’m going to find them. I’m going to find who did this.” He promises.

******

The fluorescent lights of the station are harsh and the coffee in your hand is burnt, but it's better than being in your house. At this point you doubt you can ever go back there again and you're definitely trying to figure out where you're going to go or what you're going to do once you leave the station.

Tim comes back with a bottle of water for you, offering it to you when he walks up, and exchanges it for the coffee that you aren’t really interested in. “Preliminaries look like it was a mugging/burglary gone wrong.” Tim tells you quietly, aware that he probably shouldn’t say anything about this, period, but this is your sister. And you used to be his wife. “Camera footage from the neighbors show that the suspect approached her when she opened the door.”

"I don't–" Your head bobs in thanks when he takes the coffee from your hands and replaces it with the water bottle, though you still don't do anything but hold it. For your whole life you were always the person to be able to take charge and provide comfort in a crisis. Now that the crisis is your own, you're drawing a blank. "Will they let me go back? For–for clothes and stuff, I mean? I need to find a hotel..."

Tim grimaces. “It’s….still a crime scene.” He tells you reluctantly. “No one goes in right now.” He bites his lip, knowing that the DA would be pissed, but he would log a record of it in the case file. “If you want to make a list, I could get you some things.” He wants to offer to let you stay with him, in the old house you used to share, but that might be too much for you.

"No, I...I don't want you to get in trouble for me." There are strict rules for crime scenes. You were a cop's girlfriend and then wife for long enough to know that. "I can just get some stuff from Target tomorrow. Temporary stuff..."

“I can.” He offers, squatting down to look at you. “Do you have a friend…a boyfriend, where you can stay with them?” He asks, even if the idea makes him sick. He lost you, he has no right to be upset if you’ve moved on. “You shouldn’t be alone tonight.”

"No." For as long as you and Tim were together, he knows you never really had an extensive circle of people close to you. You're an introvert and most of your friends were either his coworkers or the spouses of those coworkers. The friends you made in college have all gone their separate ways by now, and you had had your best friend in your sister. "No it's just Liz and me..." It was just the two of you, anyway.

Tim sighs softly and his brow furrows in concern. “You can— you don’t have to— but, you can stay with me.” He offers, unsure of how you would take his offer. You had told him during the divorce that you couldn’t wait to be done so you would never have to see him again, and circumstance had changed that. He still hasn’t told you he hadn’t had to be at that crime scene. He had just memorized your address and when it came over the radio, his heart had dropped.

"Wouldn't you get in trouble?" That has to be a conflict of interest or something, but the idea of being safe tonight has you shaking all over again when you suddenly jolt at the memory of why you even need safety in the first place.

“No.” Tim shakes his head. “You aren’t a suspect, never were. And the captain knows who you are.” He wants to reach out and wrap his arms around you, keep you safe, but he doesn’t want to overstep. “Or I can get you a hotel. Wherever you want.”

For maybe the first time since you walked into your house to see him standing there, you actually look up a little and meet Tim's eyes. "I don't think I should be alone, either," you admit quietly.

His heart breaks at the loss in your eyes, the sense that you are adrift and unsure of your course. He nods. “Then you don’t have to be alone, sweetheart.”

"There's not...not anyone at home who would be upset?" You have no business being upset if there is – after all you're the one who filed for divorce, not him – but you still stop your hand for reaching for him when it's halfway out.

He doesn’t miss the gesture and reaches out to take your hand. “No.” He promises. “Just a really lazy cat named Twix.” He licks his lips, heart pounding at the touch of your skin against his and he pushes those feelings down. He just means to comfort you. “No one since you left. Your blanket is still on the couch.”

“I—” There's no reason to refuse, and you're a little too shell-shocked at the moment to know whether or not you could actually manage all the logistics of a hotel on your own. Besides – again – the idea of being alone doesn't sit well with you. "Thank you." you manage finally, gripping his hand tightly in gratitude.

“You’re welcomed.” He knows he should get you home, his home, and he squeezes your one last time before letting it go. “Let me go finish up for the night, and we’ll get you settled.”

"Wait." Your hand tightens instinctively, holding him beside you. "Please don't leave?" Even in a room full of bustling people doing their jobs, without Tim beside you, you feel completely alone. And even though you know he has to do his job, you just – you need that comfort for a few minutes more.

It’s the same words that have haunted him for years, the ones you had uttered one desperate night that he had disregarded, signaling the end of your relationship. He regretted that night in the middle of the lonely nights that followed, wishing that he could somehow go back, do things different. He can’t change the past, but he can show you the compassion you need. Shifting to his knees in front of you, Tim looks up at you, his eyes wider than normal as he gives you his promise. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m right here, sweetheart.”

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Tim Rockford #Tim Rockford x you #Tim Rockford x reader #Tim Rockford x female reader #Tim Rockford x f!reader #angst #murder #this microfic contains death

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certifiedlovergirlsstuff · 2 months

Note

can we get a fic where r is a nurse or med student and she just had a terrible terrible day at work and steve just comforts her? ly <3

i know nothing about the medical world so forgive me. kinda basing this from a breakdown i had after orientation for my job then texting a friend for some help.

masterlist

silence. peace and quiet after a twenty-four hour on call shift. no beeping monitors, no patients getting angry with you, no messes to clean up; just you sitting in your car letting your brain melt. and then the tears started to sting, face pinching to withhold yourself but letting the floodgates free. your breathing was labored and your head was getting fuzzy, you hoped no one was a witness to your breakdown.

fingers death gripping onto your leather steering wheel, head falling forward and almost hitting your horn. you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to take deep slow breaths, needing to steady yourself before making the thirty minute drive back to your apartment where steve was waiting for you.

steve. with his name popping into your head you reached into your bag, pulling your phone and flipping it open then pressing one to speed dial the landline. the dial tone rang twice and then you heard his voice.

“harrington residence.” just those two words from your husband lifted your sorrows for a moment, allowing you to calmly speak into the receiver. “hi honey.” a sigh of relief before a wet hiccup followed.

you could hear the concern when steve asked, “hey, you off? need me to pick you up?” already knowing you had your car with you, but also knowing you would be exhausted to drive.

you shook your head even though it wasn’t seen, “no, no. just… just wanted to see if you needed anything?” closing your eyes as the welling tears continued. “want something for lunch? was gonna stop by-“

“it’s fine, honey. i already cooked something for you. just get home safe. i love you.” and he didn’t hang up right away, waiting for you to respond back. a croaked “i love you,” then quick to press the end call button. you took deep calming breaths, five in five out, before starting the engine and cutting the radio off.

you kept to the speed limit, sometimes going three over or even five under causing people to honk and speed past you. you didn’t have the energy to care about their pissed stares, just counting the stop lights until you hit your block, rolling into the complex then pulling into your parking spot.

your bones felt like liquid as you gathered your bags and drinks, locking your car then heading up the one flight of stairs. a quick left then past three doors and you stood outside yours, number 736, a lovely floral reef circled the peep hole.

with a heavy hand you slid your key into the lock, turned the knob and was greeted to the warm lighting and laugh track blaring from the tv. the lingering smell of mac and cheese with some baked chicken and steamed veggies caused your stomach to gargle.

“hey pretty.” steve’s smooth voice slid into the hallway with you, his hands reaching out to take your load off your shoulders.

he made sure to keep your belonging organized and hang your coat on the rack. he knelt to the floor and helped tug your sneakers off your aching feet before ushering your further into the apartment to the couch.

reruns of your favorite sitcom light the room as steve leaned in to press a tender kiss on your left temple, eyes closing in contentment. “i’ll be back with our food.”

steve was gone less than five minutes and you could feel your eyes growing heavy as each second passed, head lulling to rest on the back of your couch. you smiled and chuckled low at a joke you already knew, but it still tickled you pink.

“kept it in the oven to stay warm. hope it taste good, i followed the recipe for the mac and chicken, but you know me.” steve set the two plates on the small table covering your feet. “how’s my girl doing?”

he rested a palm to your left thigh and rubbed over your scrubs comfortably. you took a deep inhale before sighing out, “draining.” the one word sufficient in summarizing everything.

steve hummed, “sorry. but luckily you’re taking the next two days off. how about we just rot in bed for one day and then be slightly adults the next day. how’s that sound?” his browns eyes darkened and shaded with the flickering light.

leaning your head onto his right shoulder and fighting sleep you yawned out, “sounds perfect.” the laugh track and commercials becoming your white noise.

#erin’s blurb requests #stever harrington fanfic #steve harrington stranger things #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x female!reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington #steve harrington angst #stranger things imagine

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little-miss-dilf-lover · 1 year

Note

I cannot get enough of ur Tangerine smut LAWD I love it. Would you ever write one where he and the reader are on a mission and Tan screws up something so the reader lets out her anger (& repressed attraction) on him by throwing a punch so he puts her in her place & it just gets FILTHY😩

hii! thank you! omg I LOVE shit like this, and the tension🤭 you wanted filthy, im giving you filthy. also sorry it’s taken so long. thank you for requesting, hope you like it💌

wrong turn

Tangerine x fem!Reader

wc || 1.9k (oops, couldn’t stop writing it)

warnings || 18+ only. swearing + explicit content (literal word porn, repressed attraction kinda sex- the good kind. p in v) minors dni

masterlist + rules

taglist

Being professional partners with Tangerine was never easy, especially if Lemon wasn’t there to diffuse tension. You desperately relied on Lemon to be the buffer between you and Tangerine, but unfortunately, he was back at home, bed-bound with tonsillitis. So this week, it was just you and Tangerine, together for five long days in an unfamiliar city.

“You’re going the wrong way.” You state, pointing to the sign before he gets a chance to speed past.

“I’m not, this is the right way.” He grumbles, keeping his eyes on the road in front.

“No, this way is going into the city centre- it’s the wrong way.” Quickly checking the mirrors, grabbing the steering wheel to change lanes.

“What you doing? You prick… great. Stuck behind this fuckin knob.” He groans, honking at the lorry in front.

“There is a speed limit, you know.” You snark.

“Speed limit, my arse.” Swerving around the lorry that was hogging the lane.

“You don’t have to be such a prat.” You prod.

His neck whips around to flash you a face that said ‘come again?’ Immediately covering your mouth to stifle a cackle. “See? It’s the right way.” You taunt once more.

“Fuck off.” He mumbles under his breath.

“What’s that?” Tilting your head to the side.

“I said, well done.” Forcing a sarcastic smile, giving you an obnoxious thumbs up.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” You jest, turning your attention to your window to hide your grin.

“Now, I’m fuckin lost.” He grumbles, pulling into a ditch.

“We’re gonna miss them.” You point out, checking the time on your phone. “I knew I should’ve driven… they’ve probably already left-“

“Will you shut up?” He groans, emphasising each word.

“No… if you weren’t so arrogant, we’d be there and gone by now.”

“Yeah, that’s real helpful, that.” He snarks, thumping his head back against the headrest.

“Let me drive?”

“No.”

“Why?” Face contorting. “I won’t crash your precious car.” You mock.

“You’re an awful driver.” He gutturally laughs to taunt you. “You go over a curb and you’re like ‘oops’” Grinning at the memory earnestly.

“No, I don’t.” You defend yourself, trying not to laugh.

“Yes, you do. You did it last week.” Deeply chuckling.

“When?” You object.

“Um, last week… Lem nearly went through the fuckin windshield.”

“Oh shut up- that didn’t happen.”

“Maybe… because you were…” pausing to lower his voice. “Singing to your music.”

“Sod off. Now move, we’re never gonna get there.” Swatting him from his seat.

“No.” Pushing your hands away to grip the steering wheel, pulling from the curb to continue driving.

“You have some issues.” You mimicked, slouching and sulking in your seat.

“Not the first woman to tell me that.” He added, grinning with his eyes glued to the road.

When you both finally arrive at the location, you notice the lack of cars parked outside the warehouse. Staring through the window, looking over your shoulder to Tan. “Where is everyone?”

“We must’ve missed them.” He claims.

“‘We’? Nah, you missed them. You got too much penis pride.” You state indifferently. Your eyebrows pull together when you hear him snicker from behind.

“Penis pride?” He mocks, hiding a grin.

“Shut up, you know what I meant.”

“Nah, I don’t. Elaborate.” His head tilted to the side.

“Your need to be in charge because of” pausing briefly to face him again. “…that.” Pointing downwards.

“‘That’? He chuckles deeply. “You mean my cock.” His head lowering, his smirk taunting you.

“Shut up.” Turning back around to hide your burning cheeks.

“You blushing?” He mentions.

“No.”

“I can see you, you know.” He scoffs, waving into your window so you could see his reflection.

Quickly raising your hand to smack the light off, flashing him a scowl.

“Did I make you nervous?” He taunts one more, tapping the exposed skin on the nape of your neck. Immediately swatting it away, slapping his hand. “Anybody ever tell you not to touch a woman without her permission?” You ask with a faux glare.

Raising his hands to show his innocence, dropping them into his lap. “If I’d ask, you’d say yes.” He grins, leaning towards your seat. “Am I correct?

“You should be more annoyed about this.” You change the subject, gesturing to the empty warehouse.

“It weren’t my fault.” He shrugs.

“This again?”

“You brought it up.”

“It’s frustrating that you won’t admit it.”

“Admit what?”

Your face screws up, clearly growing irritated.

“You’re cute when you’re angry.” He taunts again.

Twisting around, smacking him hard against his bicep.

“Do it again… I dare you.” His head lowers, staring into your eyes.

Lifting your hand, you ball it into a fist, hitting him again. He wraps his hand around your wrist, holding it as he pulls it away. “I don’t think so.” He shakes his head, lowering your hand to his thigh.

His grip over your hand was loose so you had plenty of opportunity to pull away, but you didn’t. You just stared into his eyes as you silently agreed to let his hand move yours. Trailing it up his thigh.

“Look down.” He says quietly, his eyes nodding to his crotch.

Slowly glancing down, noticing the huge tent in his trousers. Turning your gaze back to his face, pleadingly looking up at him through hooded eyes.

His fingers softly brush up your thigh, intensely staring at your shallow breathing chest. Lingering a singular finger up your arm until he reached your neck, slowly trailing up your throat and up to your parted lips. Brushing over the soft skin, staring directly into your soul.

It was like some sort of mind game, a game to see who would crack first. You wanted it to be him, but the way he touched you so lightly made you question your strength.

His other hand continues to graze up your thigh, itching upwards and leaving a trail of goosebumps behind. It was like a switch went off in your brain that told you ‘fuck it.’ Crawling yourself over the gearstick to straddle his thick thighs. Instinctively he slides his seat back, allowing more space for you. Gently yanking the sides of your face, desperately pulling you in for an urgent kiss. Brashly working over yours with soft content groans, his hands sliding down to grip your neck. Loosely holding as he trails kisses along your throat, his thumb lifting your jaw to allow him better access, grazing wet hurried kisses along the skin.

His hands snake around your back, his fingers spread wide as he clasps your skin, desperately needing to feel more of you. Lazily licking up your throat to resume deep kisses to your needy lips.

His fingers lightly teasing over your back, travelling down to grip your waist. Pulling you further down into his lap, grinding you against his aching clothed cock. “Fuckin hell.” He groans between kisses, heavily exhaling into your mouth.

Pulling yourself in him closer, your chest flush with his. Wrapping your arms around his neck and tangling your fingers in his hair to deepen the heavy makeout.

“I want to fuck you so bad.” He murmurs against your skin. Sliding his hands under your clothing so he could freely roam your body. Grazing his fingertips over your hot flesh.

“I want you.” Burying your face into the nape of his neck, quietly panting against his skin.

Tan looks up at you, scanning your face, taking in the beauty of your natural features. Eyes darting over your face.

“What?” You ask, a hint of worry in your voice.

“Nothing… you’re just beautiful.” He grins, nuzzling his face between your chest.

“Softie.” You sweetly joke, smiling down at him. Your eager hands unbuttoned his shirt, as he fiddled with yours, practically ripping your top from you. His palms immediately clutching to your chest with a wide grin across his face, kneading into them through your bra.

He snakes his hands over your hips, grabbing them to lift you up. Instinctively, you reach down to undo his trousers, unzipping them so he could slide the fabric out from under himself. Slipping your hands down, prying away the waistband of his boxers, allowing his cock to spring out and stand attentively against his stomach.

His fingers slide up your inner thighs, roaming over the wet patch in your underwear. Smirking as he slips his hand into the fabric, teasing through your wet folds. Separating the fabric and dragging it over to the side to create an opening for him.

Gripping himself from the base, giving himself a couple firm tugs, never once leaving your eyes. Scanning your face for permission once more, to which you eagerly nod.

Lifting yourself to hover over him, aligning yourself with his tip. Gripping himself, sliding his head through your slick. Slowly pushing himself into you, urgently grabbing around your waist to pull you closer to his chest. Steadily lowering you down, allowing his full length to completely fill you. Melting and moulding around him as he keeps you still, bottoming out. You desperately wrap your arms back around his neck, urgently bringing his face into your chest. Your neck slack, as soft pleading whimpers escape your parted lips.

He lifts you from him, lowering you down to sink back in. Leisurely bucking his hips so you could engulf his sensitive cock. He softly sucks on your lower neck, nibbling and grazing sloppy kisses up the length.

Grasping your skin tightly as he winds himself up into you, softly groaning against your now red skin. Milling your hips, grinding yourself over him. Working your walls over his cock, massaging yourselves with every gentle bounce.

He slides his hands up your back, tangling his fingers into a lock of hair at the back of your head, gently tugging to brashly kiss up your throat. Purposely marking you, littering small red patches in a trail behind.

Desperately running your hands over his chest, brushing over his shoulders and sinking your fingers in. Clasping at his muscly torso, dropping your head into the nape of his neck, breathing staggered whimpers against his skin.

His thrusts become more focused as he pokes up into you, grabbing you urgently to fuck you down into himself. Deeply groaning against your collarbone, messily kissing along it.

“Can I cum in you?” He asks in almost a whimper.

Nodding vigorously as your whines grow louder, gripping the back of his head and pushing it into your bouncing chest.

Clamping down, your walls spasming and fluttering around him with your climax. Your intense shudders draw out his own release, spilling deep inside of you.

Slowing down he continues to sloppily fuck his cum into you, holding your jaw to gaze into your eyes. Eagerly pulling your face towards his, slipping his tongue into your mouth, enthusiastically working over your lips.

Breathlessly separating, he sweetly looks up at you before brushing a few rouge strands of hair behind your ear. You slowly lift yourself from him, hovering over his thighs as you smile widely at him. Shifting your weight so you could sit across his thighs, comfortably snuggling yourself into his chest.

“I’m quite glad they weren’t here.” You say quietly, snickering at the memory of what you just did.

“Should’ve done that ages ago.” He chuckles, draping his arm over your shoulder to pull you closer.

Both individually grinning to yourselves, consumed by the post-sex glaze over.

You twist your head up to look at him. “You ready to admit you were wrong?” You smirk.

“Ready to admit you’re a bad driver?”

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