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handshakesake · 3 years

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🔥 FIRST IMPRESSIONS 🔥

YUJI/SUKUNA x READER

PART #3

!!! NSFW !!!

/// WARNINGS: Non con, oral, tag teaming, dirty talk, smutty smut smut (Yuji’s aged up, obv) ///

((Okay so now I can start doing DUALITY and if you guys like this you’re gonna lose your minds for the next phase. Also no shame, I’m a sinner and I know. -claps hands-))

Yuji might have sped just a tad bit to get home, right on your heels up the stairs to the front door, seemingly more comfortable since you hardly reacted to his unfortunate curse. Or maybe it was jealousy, seeing the other touching you during the switch and starting a war with him over a girl. If Sukuna wanted to stir him up, it worked. You could barely get the keys into the doorknob with Yuji’s mouth nibbling at your ear, hands tugging you backwards into his chest, dipping his head to bite at your neck.

“Glad to see you’re f-feeling better…but I can’t...mm, I can’t get the door- ah!” You fumbled over your words when he ran his tongue up the side of your neck, sneaking the keys from your hands and whispering with a suspiciously innocent tone.

“I’ll get it, I’ll take care of anything for you….” As soon as the door was open you two were stumbling frantically inside and Yuji kicked it shut behind him, ripping his tie off with a determined look on his face.

“Oh, I’m sure you would.”

Sore and sleepy, you sat up in bed in the dark and felt for your lover next to you, but he wasn’t there. The bedroom was pitch black, no light from under the bathroom door to indicate he was in there, in fact you couldn’t see anything at all. You could feel the sheets under your fingers and were confused, finding smooth silk in place of the fluffy blankets you and Yuji would nuzzle into most nights.

“Yuji?” You called out, but there was no response, just a painfully eerie silence and the sound of water dripping once or twice. You slowly slid off the bed, but when your feet touched the floor you found liquid an inch or so deep. First assumption was that the apartment flooded, so you scrambled for the light switch in the dark, finding no walls or doors. No furniture. Just more empty blackness. Just when you started to panic, you felt a hand slowly wrap around one of your wrists.

“Yuji?” You could hardly breath as another hand grabbed your side, then another arm hooked firmly around your back so you couldn’t escape.

“Wrong again.” Sukuna’s voice wasn’t playful or lyrical like it’d been in the car earlier that evening, it was a spoken growl, and agitated tone that warned you not to fight him. Warm, liquid verbal impatience.

“Why can’t I see you? And where are we?” Instead of pulling away, you let the arms gather you up and lay you back on the bed haphazardly. The mattress shifted, your body began to react to the fight or flight instinct kicking in, but you wouldn’t escape. He caged you in, climbing on top of you and sitting on your pelvis.

“We are within my domain. You wanna see me? Or are you scared of the dark, little girl?” Sukuna was mocking you, expecting the whole scenario would make you try to run, fight him like predator and prey, but you didn’t.

“If you still think I’m afraid of your form, you’re in for a surprise.” You ran your hands along his where they rested on the bed and kept his body up above yours, triggering flames to flicker around the bed, candles with their melting dripped onto the red liquid floor.

“Naughty thing, aren’t you. Wanting a peek at the big bad curse.” He snickered, lower set of hands trailing over your chest, down your waist and to the hem of the only thing you were wearing, a t- shirt. He tore it away with ease, enjoying the way you shivered. He was in thick white robes, body was so starkly similar to Yuji’s, aside from his eyes, arms and the vicious sneer on his face.

“You’re actually quite breathtaking.” You mumbled, half lidded eyes locked on his lower jaw as he swallowed hard, frowning while he brought his face to yours and the tips of your noses touched. His chest rumbled contemplative, he looked almost softer, a gaze of pity.

“Of course I am, I’m your king. Keep up the praises and I might reward you.” A trill cackle erupted from his throat, but it died down when you reached up and tugged at his robes and whined.

“I can’t praise what I can’t see.” Oh, Yuji must have screwed you a bit senseless, because the subservience was not something he’d seen come so easily.

“Ask me properly, little thing. Address your king correctly and I may have mercy on you.” His wicked smile showed fangs that glittered in the flickering candle light, his tongue teasingly wriggling behind its cage just waiting for a taste. His patience was godly, however, despite how many centuries he’d missed this ritual.

“Handsome, wise king Ryomen, have pity on my poor soul. Spoil me with your visage.” You smirk, dizzy with lust, just slightly noticing the deep red smoke on the air around you, sedating you without your knowledge.

“Such an obedient thing…” Sukuna sighed, but his lips were still curved upward, pride swelling as he let his clothes fall off him, leaving you to stare in awe for a few seconds.

“Little thing, you’re practically drooling. And over someone like me? Tsk tsk, what a shame. Though, it simplifies so much you look at me the way you look at the brat. Maybe I can come to terms with sharing my property.” As he spoke, he flipped you onto your stomach, a hand nestling into your hair to yank your head back and force you to look into his eyes.

“Share? What does Y-Yuji say...about that...” You moan your words while his three free hands find every inch of your body and handle you with a roughness your other lover never dared use.

“Ask him yourself.” Sukuna muttered as he turned your head by your hair and you found yourself staring up at Yuji standing at the foot of the claw foot bed.

“This is pretty lewd. Is it bad I’m a little turned on? Fucking pissed, yeah. But...” Yuji was affected the same way as you by the smoke drifting around, causing the bridge of his nose to be dusted pink with the heat of his blood.

“Shut up, brat! We share the same body, it hardly matters. Now keep her mouth shut too while I have my way.” There was no warning otherwise from Sukuna, a cock entering you with a single languid thrust was its own warning. It hurt, stung and you immediately reached out and grabbed onto Yuji’s waist for stability as the beast behind you set a rapid pace from the start. Your cries were so desperate, it tore at Yuji’s heart, but he felt like his legs would give out if he even moved. Between grunts, Sukuna gave him an order, his three free hands still roaming your form carelessly as he fucked you hard.

“Use-her-mouth! Or I will!” The warning was taken seriously, Yuji clumsily and in a haze pulling his jeans down to free himself, reaching for your hair to find Sukuna’s hand already there. With a half groan, half snicker, Sukuna gave Yuji a little help and pulled your head back more, your mouth already agape with desperate moans. As soon as he was in your mouth, Yuji started making some desperate noises of his own, only dwarfed by the occasional cackled of Sukuna, praising your subservience in the same breath he’d tease the brat.

“You’re such a fun little thing to play with, isn’t the brat lucky I let him borrow you?” He growled, but you couldn’t speak, drool dripping down your chin as Sukuna forced you to fuck Yuji with your mouth, fist in your hair painfully tight.

“You’re borrowing her, fucker! She’s m-my girlfriend!” Yuji stammered, they both picked up their thrusting pace and you clawed at the sheets, climax hitting you with no warning. Then another, lightheaded from the struggle to breath as Yuji got more needy for his own release and pushed deeper into your throat. They came in tandem, agonizingly, and you tried not to choke on the warmth flooding your mouth while the other flowed into your cunt so hot you couldn’t stand it. The broken choked cries you made on Yuji’s cock had the both of them rolling their eyes back, satisfied with themselves.

#jjk sukuna #jjk smut #jjk x you #jjk x reader #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #yuji x reader #yuji itadori x reader #sukuna smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #smut #itadori smut

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tenthgrove · 3 years

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Yandere Prompt Event: Formaggio with 1 (SFW)

1: "You're safer with me!"

It’s funny how much he affected you when you never knew his name.

You suppose it’s par for the course when you meet a lot of people. Some of them are just going to be weird. But the man you met on the first Saturday of Summer, with buzzcut hair and an affinity for mesh shirts has stayed with you far longer than your few brief meetings.

At some point or another, he probably did say his name. Something beginning with an F, Italian. You weren’t focusing on his words, more his intonation, his mannerisms. They seemed… purposeful, somehow. Beyond what you would expect for somebody just chatting up a stranger.

You put a stop to things about a month ago, without an official goodbye, of course. If your fears were justified then giving him a chance to react to your rejection would be foolish. So you simply stopped going to the places you would see him.

It worked, on the face of things, and you did not see him again. But he… haunted you, in a sense. It was not that you simply could not stop thinking about him but rather that your mind seemed to respond to a presence your senses were not strong enough to perceive. You even thought you saw him several times. But surely not. If he were really stalking you, you think by now he would have made himself known.

At least in your house, you can feel safe. Nothing out of the ordinary has happened here since this whole ordeal began, which helps you feel certain that even if the man is stalking you, he’s probably quite benign as stalkers go. You were always a bit of a homebody, so if you have to spend more time here until your paranoia subsides, maybe it’s not the worst fate in the world.

You shut your laptop and look at the clock. 10am. Is it too early for bed? Probably? But you are a little zapped of energy. It’s time you did something that relaxes you more. A bath should do just fine.

::::::::::::

You really were more tired than you thought, as at some point in the bath you fall asleep. An atrocious blaring snaps you awake, making you jet up in the cooling water. Fire alarm. Oh shit.

You scramble out the tub and reach for your clothes. You just get done throwing on your underwear and shirt when you smell something awful seeping under the door. No time, you need to go.

Scrambling down the stairs of your apartment you don’t grab a thing. You can’t see the fire anywhere though, so it doesn’t look like your flat is where it started. Still, it’s for the best you’re choosing to run. Spilling out the front door you collide with a wave of deep grey smoke and fall to your knees, spluttering. It’s your neighbour’s property, and there’s such a funnel of smoke spewing out it’s plunging the whole street into darkness.

Fire. Need to run. Need to- get away.

You collapse again in the middle of the road. Can you really pass out from smoke inhalation this fast? No, that’s not it. You’re like a frightened rabbit, shutting down from fear alone. There are cries all around you. No doubt the whole street is running. Can- Can nobody see you?

You crawl forward as fast as you can manage. The air hurts to breathe, so hot and thick. The fire roars behind you- there’s no way it started accidentally.

“Someone? Please… I can’t…” you beg weakly to no avail. They probably can’t even see you under all the smoke. You think… you think you might be about to pass out.

A car screeches to a halt in front of you. You’re too weak to look up and see who it is, but a calmness overtakes you as a figure steps from the car. You’re going to be okay.

“Hey! Take my hand!” A masculine voice cries. It’s vaguely familiar but you can’t quite place it. Even still, it’s survival. You reach up and grab his hand, and with surprising strength, he pulls you into the car. “Right, let’s get out of here,” the man says, revving up the engine and pulling out of the street. The chaos shrinks around you, cool air jetting into your face from the air con.

“Jesus Christ,” the man exclaims. His green eyes are fixed on the rear mirror, watching the smoke as it billows into the skyline behind you. “Shit, I didn’t intend- didn’t think it would- hey, you’re alright now, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” you tell him weakly. You can breathe easy now, so you hope you didn’t suffer too much from the smoke inhalation. You look at you saviour closer. It’s him. The man who took an interest in you a while back. Maybe you would care more if you didn’t just almost die.

“You came out of the house right next to where the fire started, right?” he recalls. “You got real lucky, that thing was spreading like, well, wildfire!”

“Those poor people,” you respond.

“Uh… yeah.”

You’re silent for a moment as your consciousness begins to clear.

“Where are you taking me?”

“Um… hospital! Yeah! I know you seem fine and all but I think we should get you checked out!” He excuses himself. That definitely wasn’t the truth. You’re starting to worry.

“The hospital was the other way,” you remind him.

The man looks back at you. His cheerfulness is gone. That eery purposefulness you saw when you first met him is back, but now it’s no longer just an undertone.

“Hey,” he says. “I think it’s time you went back to losing consciousness.”

“Wait- what?!” you scramble for the door latch but it’s too late, a wet rag placed over your mouth that makes your head spin. You look into your stalker’s eyes with pure desperation. He smiles at you in some twisted display of comfort.

“Now now Sweetie, don’t be getting scared. You’ll wake up just fine once we’re home. You’ll see soon enough, you’re safer with me.”

Right before passing out, you notice the most peculiar thing peaking out of the car’s trunk. Tanks of gasoline.

#TG's yandere event #yandere cw #formaggio #formaggio x reader

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imaginesmai · 4 years

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Arvin Russell - The preacher’s sins (2/2)

Here is the second part of this fic! Hope you enjoy it.

Plot: The preacher’s manipulation is finally kicking in, but Arvin isn’t letting go so easily.

Warnings: It’s about TDATT, so you can guess, again. Violence, manipulation, hurt reader.

Lenora died two days after your argument with Arvin, you and him were drifting apart and Knockemstiff was entering in the coldest Autumn yet to meet. The villagers were on edge every second of the day, there was more violence and the people’s faith was starting to become dangerous. Just a few days ago, a pregnant woman and her boyfriend had walked into the café, and had been kicked out by angry clients who scream obscenities for not being married.

The preacher’s words were starting to make roots into the town, it seemed, and you were no exception; at least, you didn’t think you were. Since that talk with the preacher, he had opened your eyes about your sins, and you could say happily that you were getting better at reading. Every two days, you would go the church and he would be waiting outside, with his car and his bible. He would read to you, helping you understand what you couldn’t and giving you a kind smile. And if you got a word wrong, well, he knew how to fix it.

“And she… uh, she… “ you squinted to see what the word was, but you couldn’t read. Your heart started to beat loudly in your ears under the watchful eyes of the preacher. “She was con… con…”

The preacher put a hand on your shoulder, and your eyes got misty. You knew it was well deserved, because who didn’t know how to read? But it still brought tears to your eyes when it happened. You searched into your brain for something to say, but since Lenora’s death no one was teaching you. Arvin, your sweet boy, was the only reason why you sometimes doubted what the preacher was doing was right. And in order not to lie to his face, you barely saw him anymore.

“Come on, Y/N. You know what to do” the preacher said, unfastening his belt. In a moment of panic, you shifted away from him. “It’s for you own good. You think someone will love some brainless girl like you?”

“Please, preacher” you whined as he got up, belt in hand. “Please, not today. They – they haven’t healed, a-and it hurts. Please, I don’t –“

“You think your suffering is close to what he suffered? You whiny bitch, take out your clothes before I make you”

As quickly as you could, you got naked in front of the preacher, except from your underwear. The first time you did it, just before meeting Arvin in the graveyard, you had cried and begged. Then the preacher had explained you that it was the only way to cure your sins, to redeem yourself for lying to him in the first place. He had told you not to talk to Arvin about it – and you didn’t, because he promised you to teach you to read and be a good girl for him.

You didn’t know if it was because of what happened to Lenora, because of the hurt look on Arvin’s face when you told him you couldn’t meet that weekend, or because you had noticed that lately the preacher’s eyes were shiner than usual when you took off your clothes. But you were starting to doubt if what he considered redemption was really it.

“It’s for you own good” the preacher said, as the belt fell for the first time near your right shoulder. He didn’t bother to avoid the previous days lashes – he liked to see how longer could you keep the tears away. “You want to clean yourself?”

“Please, don’t –“

“I asked you a question!”

The belt fell so many times that you lost count. You thought about how all of this could end – he had told you, you could wipe your sins with the belt or with him. And every time you chose the belt, the preacher’s face got angrier. He wasn’t the nice, quiet man that presented himself in the church a few months ago, with a kind smile. You had really thought he was a nice man, but as the days passed and you were submitted to your own hell, your impression of him was changing.

You were afraid, something you hadn’t been at the beginning. It was easy to ignore what he was doing, because you took it as a punishment for not learning how to read. It was a motivation, and you were eager for each meeting, until one day you could show them that you could read. Maybe write a letter to Arvin, and watch how his warm smile lifted finally your mood. But the preacher had less patience each day, and you were making more mistakes – because he didn’t want you to learn, he just wanted you to choose the other option. Wanted you to leave Arvin and lay with him, and even you, who couldn’t read, wouldn’t do that.

You accepted the hits in silence, waiting for it to be over so he could drive you back to the church. And from then, pretending nothing was wrong.

The familiar truck from the Russell was parked outside your house the next day, when you finished your shift at the café. You almost didn’t notice it, because your father used to have one pretty similar. It wasn’t until you parked your car in front of your fence that you saw the familiar boy staring at you from the side of the truck.

Arvin was smoking, as always, and had a brow raised. He watched without saying anything as you got out of your car, getting ride of the ashes of the smoke. You took your time in grabbing your bag and closing your car – if your memory was right, it had been five days since you last saw Arvin, and it had just been a brief talking in the washing rooms. You had noticed he had something to say, but even if just two months ago you wouldn’t have had any problem talking about anything, now he couldn’t find away.

He waited for you, not saying a word. You chose not to say anything about the bruise and swelling around his left eye, because if you talked, you were sure you would just burst crying. That day the preacher had been busy with a family, so he had given you the day free – which was why you were coming home so soon, and why Arvin and you were the only ones there.

As you left he keys on the kitchen table and your bag on the chair, Arvin closed the door behind him. You didn’t have to look at him to know that he was staring.

“I was ‘ere yesterday” he announced, his voice echoing the empty space. “Waited for you to come back, but your daddy told me you’re coming home later now”

“Longer shifts, you know” you took out the pan, ready to make dinner and avoid the conversation. “Leroy is having – “

“I came from the café, and it was closed” Arvin cut you off. “Is everythin’….?”

Arvin didn’t finish his question, and you felt bad because he wasn’t demanding an explanation – he was just worrying. You kept moving things around for dinner as Arvin understood you weren’t going to talk. There was a suspicious wet feeling on your eyes, and a lump on your throat. The previous day the preacher had been particularly rough, not just with his belt, but with his words. And when you thought about Arvin, about how good he was, you wondered if they were true. If you didn’t deserve him.

Instead of giving up, Arvin walked around the kitchen aisle. Unknown to you, it hadn’t been the first day he had come to look for you. Since Lenora’s death he had kept his distance, too busy in his own grief to notice that you were no longer asking him to pick you up. He blamed himself, for the argument in the graveyard two days before her death and for not being there. So busy, that he didn’t know where his girl was spending her nights away.

He didn’t want you to think he was accusing you, because he would trust you with his eyes closed. But after asking around for a while, he discovered you were spending more and more time with the preacher, and that you didn’t smile as brighter as before. Now that he was finally alone with you, he couldn’t let it go.

“Y/N” he called you, putting a hand over yours and stopping the torture over the poor tomato. “I just wan’ to talk with you. I know she was your friend too, and I’m sorry I wasn’ here before”

“It’s fine, Arvin” you said. You didn’t look at him, nor shook his hand off. With the knife midway of cutting the tomato, you didn’t move. “Sorry for not… being there too”

“No, that’s my fault, darlin’” Arvin finally rounded your body and leant his head against your shoulder. “Can I treat you dinner? I’ve savin’ up for a bit”

“I can’t, I have to – “

You interrupted yourself with a pained whine and scrambled away from Arvin, almost having forgotten how bad your back hurt. The look of pure terror on his face decomposed you whole. In just two seconds, the knife had fallen to the ground and the tomato had rolled away, and Arvin looked like he had touched ice. He was pale, with his arms still open in a mid-hug and staring at you with wide eyes.

The house was silent for a long minute, while tears welled up in your eyes. Arvin looked lost, as if he could just vanish in thin air, but he collected himself well enough to help you up and sit you on the kitchen’s stool, that creaked under your weight.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, not moving his hand from your shoulder. He knelt in front of you and made you meet his eyes. “You can tell me anythin’, pretty girl”

“It hurts” you cried to him, finally saying out loud. “It hurts when I sit, or when I drive. And – and when I sleep too. I just don’t want it to hurt anymore”

“What hurts?”

“The belt”

Somehow, Arvin knew what you were talking about, and lifted your shirt with such soft and caring hands that you heart broke a little more. He asked permission with his eyes before doing anything, and reassured you when you whined in pain. Eventually, the brown blouse you had been wearing for your shift at the café came out, Arvin lifting your arms and passing it through your head.

He left it on the table, and turned you around so that he could look properly at it. The poor wrapped bandages you managed to apply by yourself came out easily as you cried into your hands. One by one, they came apart under Arvin’s skilled fingers, who made a pile of them on the floor. Even if you didn’t see his face, you had a vague idea what it looked like. In that moment, you understood that what the preacher was doing wasn’t right – because you couldn’t talk about it to Arvin without feeling embarrassment and self-pity crawl through your throat.

“I’m so stupid, Arvin” you broke the silence, as Arvin feather touch ran down your back. “I can’t – I can’t get most of the words… They are, a-all the same. And… and…”

“Who?”

You turned around to look at Arvin, and didn’t see any of the reject you had expected from what the preacher had told you. There wasn’t even an inch of anger, at least you thought it wasn’t directed at you. When he met your eyes, there was just worry and love for you, and such a sadness and pain that probably matched yours.

Arvin cupped your face delicately and pressed his lips in the corner of your mouth, catching a falling tear. He kissed your face as many times as the belt had fell on you the previous day, until his own tears were staining your cheeks. Between kisses, Arvin learned about you learning to read with the preacher, about your thought of not being worthy of him and a bunch of other words that made him hold you tighter.

Your bare chest ended up colliding with Arvin’s, and his arms wrapped around your back without touching any bruise. He held your head close as he shook with emotions, and shushed any attempt of apology from you.

“I’ll fix it” Arvin promised you, once the tears were over and you were just holding each other. “I’ll fix it”

“But it was my fault, Arv, he –“

“He fuckin’ beat you. Nothin’ you could have done deserved it” he caressed your hair, and you felt at ease for a long time in a long time. “I swear I’m gonna make ‘im regret every second, a’right?”

“He said I was no good for you” you confessed, hugging him tighter. “I don’t – I have never gone to school and you – you deserve…”

“Hey” he brought your face out and gave you a soft smile. “You’re coming home with me now, and I’m gonna make you forget bout him”

Arvin pressed his lips against you, not minding the awkward position you were in. The kiss was slow and lovely, and you hadn’t notice how much you had missed him until that moment. He kissed you again and again, making sure you weren’t going to disappear from his grasp, and repeating how much he loved you every time his lips weren’t on you. You two held each other for a little longer, until the sun disappeared completely from the sky and the time when your parents came home was close.

Then, he helped you put on your blouse again, wincing every time his eyes landed on your back, and walked with you to his car. You two drove to his house, his grandma in bed and his granduncle away, which left the whole place for you. It wasn’t like that weekend where everything started – you couldn’t say you were the same person as then, but Arvin loved you even more. He let you sleep on his bed, and he held you through the night until you fell asleep.

Once you had closed your eyes, you didn’t notice anything else. You didn’t notice Arvin barely containing his rage anymore, and getting up to get the gun he had gotten for his birthday. He pressed his lips against your forehead and jumped through the window as you slept, getting into his car.

Arvin Russell didn’t get to pull the tigger that night. When he arrived to the church, he saw the preacher bidding farewell to a young girl, and he waited. Waited until he was alone, and decided that a man like that didn’t deserve the mercy to die. Waited, and then he fell on him in the dark night and left him trembling and bloody, crying out in pain each time Arvin brought his fist on his face. He heard the cracking of the ribs, his nose breaking, and the pathetic sobs the preacher was begging with. Arvin left him unconscious on the woods, with no memories of what had happened.

That day, Arvin broke two knuckles and sprained his wrist. The preacher was sent to the hospital and, out of fear, never put a foot on Knockemstiff again. And you healed, physically and mentally, while Arvin taught you how to read. Loving you every step of the way.

Want to read more? Check out my side blog @imaginesmaimasterlists, where I keep all the masterlists! Feedback is always appreciated

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delaber · 3 years

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Can’t Have Your Cake and Another Cake Too

Rafael Casal x Reader

Note: Okay, I’ll stop breaking Rafa’s heart now... Last time, I swear! Thanks for the prompts to these lovely anons. Alhough this is not a prequel to Poetic Justice (Rafa x ER Nurse), poor Rafa’s facing some of the same issues. I very loosely based this story on J. Cole’s Kevin’s Heart (don’t know why I’m always incorporating J. Cole into my fics, but apparently he’s always lurking in the back of my mind) and Phlake’s So Faded. Let me know what you think!

Words: 4.7K

Warnings: Cocaine addiction! Does not have a happy ending (nobody ODs and nobody’s dying ...Only on the inside lol)

Tagging: No one! This might not be for everybody and I don’t want anybody to feel forced to read it 😌

It was supposed to be a great night out. The entire gang was there, and at the instigation of Diggs, Rafa was supposed to be on the prowl to get laid so he could take his mind off of his broken heart.

From his seat in the booth, Rafa had a fairly good view of the dance floor and he had already spotted a few honeys who likewise had acknowledged him by smiling and sending him a couple of long looks. One of them had even twirled her hair between her fingers while blowing him a kiss. He had the green light, all systems were go!

However, of all the things that could've thrown him off his game, Rafa would not have placed a single bet on a phone call. But the minute he pulled out his vibrating phone and checked the caller ID, both the group of honeys on the dance floor and his friends occupying the seats all around him were completely forgotten. Nothing else mattered anymore.

He stared at the screen for a while, reading the name over and over again. What the fuck was Morris calling him for? Rafa had told him to stop. Morris knew he was too weak to say no even though he had promised his girl that he'd stop for good.

...Or, you weren't his girl. Not anymore.

But Rafa was still determined to win you back no matter if you had stopped answering his phone calls or not, so he took a tough decision and pressed the decline button beneath Morris' name. He even contemplated putting his phone on flight-mode to remove all unwelcome temptations - he knew you'd never take him back if he fell back in - yet, for some reason taking himself off the grid was easier said than done, and before he had pulled himself together to actually press the little airplane button, a text from Morris had ticked in. It only consisted of two words but Rafa understood perfectly.

'New candy.'

Fuck... Rafa considered the pros and cons of accepting for a few milliseconds before he came to his senses. No, no, no. The only way he'd ever win you back would be by showing you that he could stay sober even after your break-up. Morris could fuck off! As if awaking from a trance, Rafa hurriedly put his phone back in his pocket and desperately tried to forget about Morris' enticing offer by telling himself that he was strong enough to shake it.

...although deep down, he was aware that it was already too late. That no matter what, he wouldn't be able to stop thinking about it now. And no matter how hard he tried to re-focus on the honeys on the dance floor and tell himself how stupid it was to hit Morris up, it was no use, the damage was done; he was desperate to get high!

Deeply, horribly ashamed of himself, Rafa texted Morris the address of the club and impatiently waited a couple of minutes before he walked outside with heavy footsteps. It felt as if he was walking to the gallows, the shame eating him up from the inside. You'd be so disappointed in him!

However, in order to make himself accept what he was about to do, he reminded himself that apparently, you didn't care if he was high or not. If you did, you would've returned his phone calls, and you would've reacted to the fact that he had been sober for three weeks now - but you hadn't. And with that in mind, Rafa managed to push away most of the shame as he laid eyes on Morris' sketchy Subaru parked by the curb on the other side of the road. He walked across the street with determined footsteps, carefully looking over his shoulder to check if anybody he knew were watching him approach what was clearly a dealer's car.

"What's up, bruh!" Morris called as he rolled down his window. He was wearing sunglasses, looking like an absolute turd in the dark night.

Rafa put his arms on the car's beltline and shot Morris a bro handshake through the open window, "what the fuck are you wearing sunglasses at night for? You look like a dick."

"Nah, man, it looks cool," Morris laughed, "do you like them? Hell, you should like them - you paid for them."

"What do you mean I paid for them?"

"With the amount of money you spend in my shop, I think it's safe to assume that you paid for these sunglasses and the rims on the ride too," Morris snorted.

"Yeah, about that," Rafa looked away, the embarrassment slowly creeping up his spine again, "you gotta stop calling me."

"You said that last time as well but look at you now," Morris laughed.

"Come on man, it's important that I stop."

"You don't wanna stop though."

Rafa let out a sigh, "look, I'm trying to prove something to my girlf- ...ex-girlfriend."

"A'ight, I respect that," Morris nodded slowly but then he quickly continued, "so did you just call me here to pin your lady troubles on me? Cause I have a customer waiting up on Seventh Ave."

Rafa blew out some air, embarrassed by the decision he was about to make.

"...Or do you wanna buy?" Morris continued as he read Rafa's body language.

"...you're not gonna tell Diggs are you?"

"Do I look like a fucking snitch?" Morris looked offended, "and you know me and Diggs don't talk no more."

"Yeah, alright. This stays between us, okay? If word gets out, I'm fucked."

"A'ight bruh," Morris laughed, "Now, how much do you need?"

"Just... just give me an eightball," Rafa mumbled.

Morris let out a small laugh, "an eightball? Man, you're not about to quit," he chuckled and handed Rafa a zip-lock bag with white powder in it.

"Shut up," Rafa mumbled and pocketed the baggie, "how much?"

"Rafa, you're my man, so I'mma give you a discount because I feel bad for you and your girl. Three hundo."

"Three hundred?! Last time it was two-eighty without the discount."

"Times are changing. I haven't seen you in three weeks, man. Plus, this is a good batch," Morris poked Rafa in the chest, "my contact got it shipped in directly from Medellín. Look, it got fish scale and everything!"

"You better not fuck me over," Rafa muttered and threw Morris three hundred-dollar bills before he turned away from him with an annoyed huff.

"Pleasure doing business as always, Casal! See you next weekend!" Morris yelled after Rafa with a small laugh, apparently not a care in the world for who knew about their illegal transaction.

"Fucking idiot," Rafa muttered to himself without turning around. He had more important things to do than to scold Morris about his indiscretion.

Rafa hurried to the restroom and carefully locked the door behind him before he frantically pulled out the zip-lock bag. He examined its contents and saw the pearl-like surface that Morris had talked about - Fuck it looked good! He opened the bag carefully but froze when he caught his own reflection in the bathroom mirror; the loving look he was sending the bag of coke was sickening. It made his stomach plummet. Had he really been reduced to snorting coke alone in a dirty bathroom of a sketchy club? He remembered when it had been a group activity. Before he couldn't control it.

Shake it off! He told himself. He had every intention of stopping after tonight. This would be the last time.

You said that last time as well, a small voice rang in the back of his head, but he ignored his guilty conscience and instead poured out a small pile of the pearl-like coke on top of the hand dryer. Quickly, he pulled out a random card from his wallet and used it to form two heavy lines. Before his guilty conscience could interfere again, he also grabbed a one-dollar bill that he neatly rolled into a small tube and put between his right nostril and one of the white lines, ready for the rush. His gaze, however, lingered on the random card he had used to break the coke into lines; it was his fucking rewards card for the small organic, artisan shit coffee house that you liked. What wouldn't you say if you knew what he was doing? In his mind's eye, he could see the disappointed look you always sent him whenever he'd come home all hyped up, rambling his mouth off. You never got angry with him and his love of coke, but somehow your disappointed demeanour was way worse. He would've taken screaming and yelling over the disappointed stare and the slow shake of your head any day.

Slowly, he removed the dollar-bill from his nostril, stood up straight and met his own eyes in the mirror again - and for a moment, he could truly see how pathetic he was. What the hell was he doing? He was throwing away his last shot at getting you back - and for what? A few hours of euphoria and confidence?

But she doesn't want you back, a small voice rang inside his head, you called, and you called, and you called. You declared yourself clean to her voicemail and she still didn't reach out. Fuck her!

"Yeah, fuck her," Rafa mumbled before he put the dollar-bill back to his nostril. Quickly, he snorted both lines of coke, shooting his head back afterwards, sniffling a bit as he cleaned his nose with the back of his hand. He knew he only had a couple of minutes before the euphoria kicked in, so he quickly brushed off the dollar-bill and the rewards card and tugged them both back in his wallet. The remainder of the coke was stowed away in his shirt's breast pocket for safe keeping.

Ready for the rush, Rafa was impatiently staring at himself in the mirror. He was thinking about how to avoid Diggs and his condescending looks for the duration of his high, when he was finally overwhelmed by the familiar fuzzy feeling. It came out of nowhere and started behind his eyeballs and continued all the way down to his toenails. It felt as if someone had pulled a large, fluffy blanket down over him, and it was slowly heating up his body, making him feel safe and secure. His pulse quickened in time with his breathing, and he had to close his eyes to get himself under control. He felt fucking powerful! Morris had not lied about this coming from a good batch. "Shit, Morris," he laughed.

There was a knock on the door, and Rafa remembered that he had occupied the men's room for a good five minutes now. He took a last look at his suddenly hazed eyes, aware that no matter how hard he tried to hide it, anyone could see that he was high as a kite. He contemplated riding out his high alone in the bathroom but also knew that with the amount of energy present in his body, he couldn't stay in the small restroom all night. He had to dance! To fuck! To fight!

With a suddenly confident bounce in his step, he opened the door, and sent the guy in line what he hoped was an apologetic nod before he confidently strode towards the honeys on the dance floor.

"Hey Rafa!" he heard someone yell behind him.

Hoping it was someone who wanted to fight, Rafa quickly turned around but was slightly disappointed to see Diggs coming towards him with a huge grin on his face. Shit! Rafa realised that he had to act nonchalant around his best friend. Diggs absolutely couldn't know about the coke in his breast pocket, or he'd be all up in Rafa's face about it.

"Diiiiiggs! My man!" Rafa yelled overly excited, clearly very, very high.

Diggs shot him a look at his weird behaviour before he continued, "where've you been, man? I've been looking for you everywhere."

"R-r-r-r-r-r-r-rrrrrrrestroom," Rafa laughed, he was too happy to pretend otherwise.

"Why are you saying it like th-" the huge grin was slowly slipping from Diggs' face, "...hey, Rafa - look at me," Diggs suddenly sounded all serious as he took Rafa's face in his hands, carefully examining his features, "Rafa, look at me."

Rafa let out a low chuckle, "Diggs, you know I think you're handsome and all that, but I don't like you that way," he joked.

"You're being weird," Diggs furrowed his eyebrows, "- and your pupils are huge. Have you been doing lines in the bathroom?"

"Maybe," Rafa laughed, unable to stop himself from revealing his dirty little secret, "why? You want some? I still have a few hits left," he padded his breast pocket.

"You know I don't do that shit anymore..." Diggs let go of Rafa with a sigh and looked away from him.

"Oh yeah, I forgot you're a fucking saint now," Rafa said a bit more harshly than he had intended to. Ever since Diggs had met Emmy, he had been boring as hell.

Diggs chose not to comment on Rafa's low blow, and managed to keep his calm, "I thought you'd stopped, bruh."

"Morris made me an offer I couldn't refuse," Rafa laughed in an accent halfway between Tony Montana and Vito Corleone.

"Yeah well, I'm not the only one who thought you were done fucking around," Diggs said seriously. He was having none of Rafa's jokes, "I just saw your girl downstairs. She wants to talk to you."

It took a few seconds before Rafa understood, but when he finally grasped Diggs' words, he felt the blood drain from his face and his mouth run dry, "what? No, you're kidding me..."

"Nope," Diggs sighed, "I've been running around trying to find you for fifteen minutes..."

"Shit! What the fuck do I do?" Rafa said in a panicked voice, licking his lips frantically, "I told her I was sober! If she sees me like this, she'll never take me back."

"Yeah, well you better pray that you don't run into her."

Rafa ran his hand through his hair, "fuck I'm screwed. She's downstairs?"

"Was fifteen minutes ago."

"Alright, I'm jumping out this window. You stall her, tell her that I got sick or something."

"You can't jump out this window?" Diggs said incredulously, "we're 50 feet up, if you do that, you die! Just walk out the doo- ...oh shit, dude, we're blown. She's here. She's coming over."

"Fuck! Can I still bolt?"

"Of course not!"

"Well how do I look? Alright?"

"You look-" Diggs cut himself off, "...maybe just try and avoid her looking into your eyes, okay?"

"How the fuck am I supposed to do that?"

"The light in here's paying you a favour but apart from that you're gonna have to pull yourself together. You brought this upon yourself," Diggs said harshly before his demeanour changed completely as his eyes interlocked with yours over Rafa's shoulder, "heeeeey," he smiled broadly, "look who I found."

Rafa slowly turned around and met you. Your stunning beauty - as always - immediately knocking him to the ground. He couldn't believe that it had been four weeks since the last time he'd seen you. He'd do anything to get you back!

"Rafa," you nodded formally with a stiff face. Rafa couldn't help but make a mental note on how weird it was to see you without a smile on your lips. You were normally always so happy. He had done this, he reminded himself.

"Hey baby," he whispered, the words weirdly familiar in his throat.

You briefly raised your eyebrows while looking away from him, clearly uncomfortable by the sound of your old pet name.

"Sorry," he continued, "force of habit. ...I'm just happy to see you."

Your gaze slowly found his face, and Rafa prayed that you couldn't see his coke-eyes from where you were standing.

"Well..." you said and clicked your tongue, "I'd like to talk to you."

"I'd like to talk to you too," Rafa said quietly.

"And you're sober? Like you said on my voicemail?"

"Yes," Rafa breathed, "completely sober," he lied thickly, hyper-aware of how awkward it was with Diggs shuffling nervously beside him. He was uncomfortably rolling back and forth on the balls of his feet.

"Good," you finally let out a small smile, "do you want to sit down?"

"Yeah," Rafa nodded.

"Yeah, I'll - uh - I'll leave you to it," Diggs cleared his throat and padded Rafa between the shoulder blades as a way of wishing him good luck.

"Thanks man," Rafa muttered before he followed you down to a vacant booth in the corner of the room. Instead of sitting down opposite you, he made sure to occupy the seat next to you, hoping that it would minimise the risk of you looking into his eyes. He just had to pretend that he was sober until the high quieted down. Fourty-five more minutes - Less if he was lucky.

"So, how've you been?" You said quietly as you were both overlooking the dance floor, avoiding looking directly at each other.

"Not good," Rafa said quietly, "like shit, actually... how about you?"

"Yeah, well I guess 'shit' sums it up neatly... How's sober life?"

"Oh, it's - yeah - it's - it's great!" He said, the lie thick in his throat, "I feel so much better now." He knew how much he had hurt you, and he knew how difficult it must be for you to face him after you'd said that you never wanted to see him again - which just really only made his lying so much worse. Fuck, how he hated himself for what he had done. What he was still doing.

Your eyes darted across his face before your gaze settled on a spot just below his chin. He was relieved that you weren't staring him square in the eyes. "I was so happy to hear your voicemail," you whispered, "you really flushed your stash?"

"Yes," he croaked.

"I'm glad that you're finally taking care of yourself," he couldn't make out your face in the dark but he could hear a hint of happiness to your voice that you were clearly trying to suppress. It made him feel horrible.

"Yeah, I want to stay sober for you," he said slowly. At least that wasn't a lie.

"You have no idea how happy that makes me," you said quietly, the happiness definitely shining through now.

Rafa's heart was fluttering in his chest, and he felt the coke-induced euphoria run amok in his brain, "...does that mean you'll forgive me?" All his senses were heightened.

"It's a step in the right direction" you said quietly, still not looking directly at him, "I've missed you."

"I've missed you too baby," Rafa said quietly and boldly took your hand in his.

Finally, you looked up at him, and to avoid you noticing his bloodshot eyes with the dilated pupils, he took a quick decision, leaned in and crashed his lips against yours.

Luckily, you mistook his desperation for passion and fiercely kissed him back, your hand releasing itself from his, and instead caressing his neck. In-between kisses you managed to mumble, "I'm still... mad... at you."

"I know," Rafa mumbled, enjoying the familiar feeling of your lips against his. Your hands switched to caressing his torso, and your small fingers travelled over his stomach and up his chest, coming to a halt over his heart. It was racing against his ribcage and he had no idea whether it was due to the coke or due to the heap of emotions he felt in his chest. He couldn't believe he was kissing you again. He had completely written it off no more than half an hour ago.

Your right hand moved away from his heart but came to a sudden halt when you felt a small bump in Rafa's breast pocket. Still kissing him, you ran your fingers over the bump a few times before you remembered that it was where he always kept his coke. Quickly, you pulled your lips away from his.

"Wait, no, don't take kissing away from me," he hummed, completely unaware of the discovery you'd just done.

You were looking at his euphoric face with the closed eyes and the swollen lips as you moved your hand over his breast pocket once more.

When Rafa realised what was going on his eyes flew open and he spluttered, "it isn't what you think!"

But he was too slow to react, and before he had had the chance to move away, your fingers went inside his breast pocket and grabbed the small bag from there. "You've got to be kidding me!" You said angrily as you held his coke between your fingertips.

"Baby, I can explain," Rafa said quickly while desperately grabbing your wrist.

"Rafa, you fucking idiot! Don't touch me!" You wrestled yourself out of his grip, got up from your seat, and fast-paced towards the door.

"Baby! Baby!" Rafa yelled out as he ran after you.

"Don't touch me!" You cried, attracting the attention of everyone in your path.

You stormed out the door, Rafa at your heel desperately clinging to every inch of you that he could reach. When you reached the curb outside, he finally managed to run up in front of you, stopping you in your tracks, "baby, I can explain!" He said desperately.

"You said you'd flushed it all!" You were screaming at him now, the tears running down your face.

"It was a mistake, baby, I swear I didn't mean to. I flushed it all, I promise. It's just a setback."

"When did you buy this, Rafa?" You said through gritted teeth, "how long did you manage to stay sober before you decided you wanted to throw it all away?"

Rafa looked away from you, he was so embarrassed by himself, "Morris called and I tried to say no, I really did! Baby, I tried so hard to resist it. But he was persistent."

"Well, did he force you to buy?" You hissed. You were having none of his excuses.

"...No." Rafa admitted.

"When did you buy it?" You emphasised every word, "before or after you called me last weekend?"

"After..."

"When? How long after? When did you have your setback?"

"Does it matter?"

"Yes! I need to know if you did it because you were physically craving it, because you just felt like getting high, or if you did it because you’d thrown the thought of us away when I didn’t answer you.”

"I tried to fight it, I swear I tried to fight it," he was getting choked up.

"Rafa, tell me when you bought it."

He considered shooting you a lie but he didn't want to fuck up any more. "I bought it tonight..." he finally muttered under his breath, avoiding your gaze.

"You're not serious!! You bought it tonight?" You bellowed, "are you trying to tell me that you planned on throwing away your soberness tonight? That if I hadn't shown up, you'd be high as balls right now?"

Rafa didn't say anything, he just looked at you with huge eyes, the embarrassment evident on his face - and first then did you notice his blood-shot eyeballs with the abnormally large pupils that had taken over most of the green that was normally present.

"No..." you whispered when you realised, "no, no, no..." you groaned quietly, clutching your chest, "you're high right now?" The heartbreak was evident in your voice.

Rafa sent you a pained look. He fucking hated himself.

"You're high..." You stated in a whisper, the tears were streaming down your face, "you lied."

He had broken your heart. Again.

"I - I didn't mean to," he croaked, "I was just so happy to see you. I knew you wouldn't want to talk to me if I told you the truth."

"So you planned on telling me when?"

"I don't know," he croaked, "I didn't think it through. I've been sober for three weeks. Tonight's just a small setback. Baby, I swear, I'll block Morris and I'll flush this baggie right now if I can just get you back," Rafa was begging, “I’ll stop if you tell me to!”

"Rafa, how many times do I have to tell you," you cried, "You have to stop because you want to. Not because I tell you to stop! I don't care about the snorting! I don't care that you party and get high! You've done lines of my tits several times for God's sake! But I can't live with the constant lying that has become part of it!"

Fuck, Rafa knew what you were building to. His life's biggest mistake. He had it coming, he knew it. He deserved it. He was a fucking cheating coke-head and he hated it. "Please don't bring it up," he sobbed.

You didn't listen to him. You had to confront him with it because he clearly hadn't understood. "Rafa, you fucked another girl! And you were so high that you didn't even realise it! And when you woke up the next day and saw what you'd done, you lied about your whereabouts and the fact that you'd been high as fuck! I had to learn about it through her!" You were sobbing, "...and instead of staying home and comforting me, you lied about having to go to the studio, and you met up with Morris and you got high! Again! If knowing that you're breaking my heart with your constant lies doesn't make you want to quit, I'm not sure what will."

"I want to stop!" he sobbed. He had never felt so horrible before, "I love you, I want to be with you," he sniffled and took your hand, "please give me another chance! I'll stop snorting. I'll stop lying. I'll do anything for you."

It looked as if you were contemplating his words but the look in your eyes darkened suddenly and you let out a whisper, "no Rafa!" as you pulled your hand away from his.

"Baby, please!" He pleaded desperately, "I love you."

"You love coke more," you whispered.

"I have a problem," Rafa tried desperately, "I know. I can't stop. But I'll get help. I'll do whatever you want me to do!"

"Rafa, if you stop snorting because I tell you to stop, it will never last! You love getting high!"

"That's not true... it's pathetic," he cried.

"Rafa, honey,” you said quietly, “- ask yourself this; would you be throwing away this baggie and deleting Morris' number if I wasn't leaving you because of it?"

"Yes," he croaked immediately.

You took a deep breath of air, hurt written all over your face, "Love," you sighed desperately as a fresh wave of tears started streaming down your face, "you're lying again..." you sobbed, and put the baggie in the palm of his hand and folded his fingers around it.

"I'm flushing it," he croaked.

"Do whatever you want," you whispered and looked him in the eye, "We're not together anymore. I'm done - it's over,” you said as you slowly turned around and started walking away from him.

“No, no, no! Please come back!”

“No Rafa… This time I'm serious,” you said before you started walking again.

This time, Rafa didn't run after you. He just watched you walk further and further away from him as your hands dried the tears off of your face every two seconds. He imagined you stopping, imagined the hurt look you'd send him. How he'd run over to you and take you in his arms. Imagined how he'd apologise and you'd both hug and cry and kiss it out. But you didn't stop. You didn't send him any look at all. And he didn’t run to you, he was glued to the pavement.

He stood as if frozen in time and looked after you even long after you'd disappeared around the corner. Suddenly, however, he noticed that he was still clutching the baggie in his closed fist. Slowly, he opened the palm to reveal the beautiful mother-of-pearl-coloured powder. He contemplated dropping it down the gutter next to him. It would all be so easy.

But instead, he closed his fingers around it and pocketed it right above his broken heart. It would help relieve the terrible thunder that he felt rolling over him. It brought along a storm of emotions. A hurricane of regrets. And he was desperate to get high.

#rafael casal x reader #rafael casal #daveed diggs #blindspotting #rafael casal imagine #rafael casal fanfiction #bay boys #heartbreak #drug addiction #please don't hate me lol

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imkylotrash · 4 years

Text

Love Me With Your Worst Intentions

Pairing: Hardin Scott x reader

Request: May I please request something which is Hardin Scott x an insecure reader. I just think it would be really sweet but with a slight touch of sadness ya know? Anonymous

The note reads ‘Be back later. Don’t wait up’. A classic Hardin message that always makes your stomach do a flip. He has yet to tell you where he goes or who he sees. It’s not that he needs to inform you of his every move - you’re not trying to be his mother - but a general picture of where he is would be nice. Especially with the reputation he’s got. Now the logical part of you knows that he is deeply in love with you and wouldn’t see someone behind your back, but he’s also hurt you in the past. Whenever you thought about how the two of you started out, all your insecurities comes out. You’re aware of how pretty and thin the girls that he hooked up with were. You know that he never cared who he hurt or how. You know about that poor girl back in England whose life he tore apart because of some sick joke between him and his friends. It makes you worry if you’re good enough for him. Good enough for him to change and be the man you know he can be.

“Landon, hey. Can I come over?” It’ll do you no good to wait for him alone. Your thoughts will get the better of you and you’ll make stupid scenarios in your head that probably aren’t true anyway. So who better to call than Landon who can always talk you down. He’s the only one who knows how you feel and how insecure standing next to Hardin makes you feel.

“Sure. You’re always welcome.” It takes you 20 minutes to grab your purse and head over to Landon. The two of you proceed to spend the night having a movie marathon that takes your mind completely of Hardin and what he might be doing. You’re always been insecure even when you were little and the other kids made fun of your accent or your clothes. Boys would tell you to lose weight and girls would make fun whenever you tried to put on makeup. And being with Hardin just made those feelings come back 10 times over. Never being sure how he feels about you and knowing his past conquests.

“Stop!” You look over at Landon surprised by his outburst.

“I can tell you’re thinking about him and clearly he’s not bothered about you right now, so he doesn’t deserve your thoughts.” Landon isn’t really Hardin’s biggest fan at the minute but doesn’t mean that he’s not right. Clearly, Hardin will rather be doing whatever he’s doing than spend time with you. So you clear your mind of him and focus and Landon and the movie. At 2am you decide it’s time to head back to the apartment.

“I’ll see you Monday.” A brief hug is exchanged before you get in your car and drive back. You noticed that you have unread messages from Hardin but you don’t want to open them right now. It’ll just be him asking where you are. Instead you drive straight home preparing to face him and his anger.

“I’m home,” you call out not even bothering to be quiet. You know he’s up waiting for you.

“I texted you. Where the hell were you tonight?” At least he’s not drunk this time. Though painfully sober isn’t exactly much of an upgrade.

“I went over to Landon’s house,” you reply moving towards the bathroom. You’re tired and don’t really feel like arguing tonight.

“Why didn’t you just tell me that?”

“Oh, like you tell me where you go? Maybe I should just give you a note next time with some vague explanations to my whereabouts!” You have no idea where this courage is coming from. Normally you go completely quiet when he picks a fight.

“You don’t need to know where I am all the time,” he dismisses you.

“You’re right, I don’t. But then that’s mutual. I can go wherever I please, and you can’t say a word about it.” You know it’s wrong to agitate him because Hardin is the embodiment of the saying “don’t bring a knife to a gun fight” and you’re the poor sucker who brought a knife. When he’s like this, he will feed off of your insecurities and make you feel so low.

“What’s your fucking problem? If this is how you’re going to be, I think I might just head on over to Molly instead.” He regrets it the minute he says it. You know he does, but his pride will never let him admit that. You see red. Molly is your biggest insecurity and he knows how she makes you feel. It’s all just too much for you. The comment pushes you over the edge.

“My problem is you. My problem is that with the way you treat me, I should hate you!” You quickly cover your mouth with your hands as if that will keep him from hearing the hurtful words spilling out of you.

“Then go!” You deflate.

“You want me to go?” You’re whispering because you don’t really want to know the answer to your question. Your moment of bravery is gone and now all you can think about is how badly you need him to just hold you and tell you that there will never be anyone else. That nobody else compares to you.

“Yes.” Three letters, one word, a thousand knives to your heart. Of course, he’s said this before without meaning it but your mind isn’t built for these games.

“Fine.” You start grabbing random things to throw into the bag before heading for the door. You blink rapidly to get rid of the tears blocking your vision. It’s all just getting too much for you.

“Don’t go.”

“You told me to go. I’m just following orders.” It’s not even meant in a passive aggressive way because there’s no fight left in you right now. He doesn’t love you. He doesn’t love you. He doesn’t love you.

“I didn’t mean it. I was upset.” What’s caused this sudden change in behaviour is a mystery to you but all that matters is how calm he seems now. Not in the eerie way when he’s so angry he might start trashing the room, but in the calm way when he knows he pushed it too far and hurt you a little bit more than last time.

“You can’t say stuff like that to me. You can’t talk about Molly and then ask me to leave.” Your hand is still on the doorknob but you’ve let go of your bag.

“I know.” It’s the closest you’ll get to an apology from him - something you’ve learned the hard way.

“You don’t get it, Hardin. I hate the idea of all the girls I am compared to when I’m with you. I hate how Molly is so stupid gorgeous and I’ll never be that pretty. Or confident. And I hate the fact that you make me feel unloved because I am madly in love with you!” After that whole monologue you find yourself out of breath and desperately trying to hold back the tears that will inevitable fall. It’s the first time you’ve aired your insecurities like that. He knows you’re not Molly’s biggest fan, but you’ve never really told him why.

“I love you. When I see you all other girls fade away. You’re that beautiful. And just the thought of you not feeling that way is disgusting. It’s a waste to even try and compare you to anyone, because nobody comes close to you,” he admits hugging you tightly. And just like that the Hardin you love and adore is back.

“I’m just so tired of feeling like I’m not enough for you.”

“I’m the one who should be feeling like this, not you. In every universe you will always be too good for me. It’s not even a question. How I conned you into loving me will remain unanswered but I’m thankful every day. Even if I’m a complete and utter asshole to you.”

“Kiss me, Hardin.” He complies immediately sliding his hand down to your lower back so he can pull you closer. You let your fingers run through his hair just the way he likes it.

“I don’t ever want you to feel insecure in yourself or in your body. You are easily the fittest person I’ve ever been with and definitely the most amazing,” he whispers. He’s intertwined his fingers with yours and it’s a simple move but it makes the butterflies in your stomach flutter. After his declaration he carries you to the bedroom where he proceeds to prove to you three times just how much he adores your body.

#hardin scott blurb #hardin scott x reader #hardin scott imagine #hardin scott gif #hardin scott #hardin #hardin blurb #hardin gif #after gif #after movie #after imagine #after we collided #awc #awc imagine #awc blurb #after blurb

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jawritter · 4 years

Text

The Art Of Letting Go

Summary: You though you were searching for Demon!Dean to help Sammy cure his brother. When you do find him, Dean shows you just exactly what you’ve been looking for.

Created for: @spndarkbingo

Square Field: Dub Con

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Demon!Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: Smut, fingering, Demon!Dean (yes, he has his own warning), slight angst, dub con, language, spn level violence, I think that’s it...

A/N: This fic was beta’d by @deanwanddamons! Thanks hun! Please do not copy my work! Feedback is golden! Hope you all enjoy this one!

Want more? Check out my MASTERLIST! Still want more? BECOME A PATREON, and get exclusive fics and make request!!

People are affected by things differently. No one processes trauma the same way. Some people close up completely. They refuse to talk about what they’ve been through, and shut themselves off to everyone around them. Some people chose therapy. They choose a professional stranger as a way to vent, or get it off their chest. Some people get violent and want to seek revenge for whatever happened to them, whether that be to a person, group of people, or just the universe in general.

You’ve seen it all. This life, it had very few secrets left for people in your line of work. You’ve seen them cry, kill themselves, go bat shit crazy and murder everyone they were ever attached too. You’ve seen them lock themselves in the house and refuse to come outside again.

You often wondered what had happened to that girl. She was such a good hunter. She had finally come across the one thing she couldn’t handle mentally. You were pretty sure it would happen to you one day as well.

In all the things you’ve seen, in all the horrors you’ve experienced, in all the shit you’ve hunted, you’ve never seen anything that held a candle to Dean Winchester. He once was a damn good hunter, a friend, but had now turned demon. You know it was the mark that had turned him, and what it was doing to him that made him who he was today, but to say he was handling the trauma from his past life as a human to now swimmingly was bullshit. He literally took all the trauma he’d been through in his life, channeled the anger, took on the fucking mark of Cain and died and became a demon. You didn’t give a shit what Sam said. Dean had done it on purpose.

At least he was creative?

You and Dean had never been very close, but in all fairness, Dean was only ever close to a handful full of people. You? Hell, you were just another hunter. Not someone he was ever attached too. Not that he had time to even really get to know you anyway. You grew up in one of the many hunting compounds, and you joined about a month before Dean became the beast you were currently hunting.

You had always idolized Dean in a way. You had heard all the stories over the years growing up, and you always wanted to work with him, meet him. Now? Fuck, now you were hunting the very man you swore that one day, you’d work along side him to save the world. Funny how that shit turned out.

Sam swore he could cure Dean. You remain unconvinced. Either way, the problem at the moment was finding the bastard. Years of hunting when he was human made Dean damn near impossible to find, and you were pretty sure he was leaving the pair of you a trail of breadcrumbs that literally had you going around in circles.

“What, Sam?” You growled in the phone that wouldn’t stop ringing on the seat next to you. It had been ringing almost non-stop for the past thirty minutes, and you didn’t know how to tell him that you still hadn’t found his brother, and were pretty sure you were never going to find him.

“Y/N, listen, I just got some video footage from a convenience store about 30 minutes north of where you are right now. Dean was seen there.He beat a man to death with a skin mag. Can you check the local bars and strip clubs, see if you can find him?”

You rolled your eyes dramatically, thankful that Sam was unable to see it. This was a first. Dean in his demon form, decided to beat the poor ass hole to death with a fucking porn magazine. He had a knife that was very capable to do the job for him, but this just proved there may be more of the old Dean still in here than you wanted to admit out loud. It took all the self control you had left in you not to burst into hysterical laughter, or ask Sam to send you the footage so you can laugh, and not be judged for it later.

“I’ll check it out Sam, but I’m starting to think we’re not going to see Dean again in person unless he wants to be found.”

The resounding silence on the other end was hard to read. You couldn’t tell if you were actually getting through to him with reason alone, or if he was just as done as you were looking for Dean.

“Just… Just try, okay?” Sam pleaded, and you could literally hear the fucking puppy dog eyes in his voice through the phone, damn him.

“Okay, there’s a bar about five miles from me. I’ll start there and If I find anything I’ll let you know.”

“Thanks Y/N, I really couldn’t do this without you,” he says, letting go the breath he was obviously holding.

“Yeah, and don’t you forget it Winchester,” you tell him before hanging up on him. He’d said enough for tonight, and a few strip joints and bars were all you were willing to do before finding a place to crash for a while. Dean may be a demon, but you were still human and needed at least another four hours before continuing this wild goose chase.

You couldn’t deny as you pulled up in front of the old dive bar, that it was just the kind of place the Dean you know would have chosen to hang out in. You could hear the crappy country music blaring even outside in the parking lot, and there were plenty of blondes walking around in cut off shorts to choses from, adding a nice Backwoods appeal to the place that would have drawn the elder Winchester in like flies to horseshit.

Human Dean was predictable, and you missed that. The only question that remained was just how much of the man was still inside the monster.

As soon as your boots hit the gravel outside your car, a cold chill shot down your spine, throwing your hunter instincts into high gear. You didn’t haven’t even have time to grab your angel blade before your body was pinned to the outside of your Mustang with enough force to knock the wind out of you. The smell of sulfur assaulted your senses, and a scent you knew all too well… Dean.

You could feel the cold steal of the first blade pressing into the thin fabric of your flannel, and you shivered involuntarily at the hot breath that smelled of beer, sulfur, and spearmint gum fanning over your face, Dean’s strong calloused hand had a tight grip around your throat, while the other held your hands behind your back as if you were nothing more than a blowup doll. No form of shaking, kicking, or moving at all seemed to be able to break his inhuman hold.

“You know sweetheart, you and my little brother are getting on my last fucking nerve. I told you both to let me go, and what do you do? You chase me across the country like a fucking bitch in heat, all at the request of Sammy.”

You swallow around the lump that was in your throat as best you could with Dean’s hand holding your neck, tight enough to leave a bruise. You knew he’d been leaving a trail for you, you weren’t an idiot, but you didn’t expect him to be so… well, Dean. You expected a stupid demon, like the hundreds you’d sent back to hell before him. Boy, were you wrong.

“Then why don’t you just fucking kill me, Dean?” You asked him, knowing that if he wanted you dead you’d already would be, especially if he knew you were tailing him. “If I’m that much of a fucking pest, why didn’t you just handle it three states back?”

An inhuman growl sounded close to your ear, and you felt his solid chest vibrate on your back, his hand tighten around your neck, cutting off most of your air supply.

You could feel your body responding to his administration, even though you knew it was wrong. The sheer, raw power that seemed to be pouring from his grip on your hand had slick gathering in your underwear and there wasn’t shit you could do about it.

“Why should I do you that favor hun, Y/N, when you and I could have so much fun together.”

Dean’s hot breath fanned over the shell of your ear, closely followed by his teeth, sending a shiver of disgust down your spine, and to your horror, more arousal pooling between your legs.

“Fuck off, Dean,” you gritted back at him, determined to fight against this senseless attraction to the very thing you were trained to hunt and kill from birth.

This is wrong, this is wrong…

No matter how much you repeated it to yourself, the fast growing bulge in Dean’s jeans against your ass had your cunt squeezing around nothing, begging the fucking demon to fill you up, stretch you in a way you’d only fantasised about. Knowing the human Dean was packing, and a god of man that seemed to drip sex on bowed legs? What woman with a pulse wouldn’t think about it?

“See, your lips are saying fuck off, but that little pussy of yours? Well, it’s saying come to Daddy.”

Dean’s hot tongue licked from the shell of your ear to your jawline, and you had to bite down hard on your lip to stifle the moan that was right on the edge of your lips. His hand that had been holding your throat slipped down your body, unbuttoning your jeans and slipping into your panties with ease, wasting no time in slipping two thick digits into your soaking folds, toying with your entrance.

A deep chuckle ripped through his throat when he felt just how wet you were, and damn it if his fingers didn’t already have you on the edge of oblivion as they slipped into your cunt, pumping and curling slowly. You fought against the overwhelming urge to grind down against his hand to get the friction you needed from him.

This is wrong, this is wrong…

“Look at you,” the demon said, grinding his full denim covered erection against your ass as he continued to fuck you with his fingers, hitting your G-spot with terrifying precision. “So fucking wet and needy. How many times have imagined these dirty little fingers of yours were mine, baby? How many times have you cum moaning my name, like your doing right now? Better keep it down or you're going to get us caught, and you won't get to cum.”

You hadn’t realized all the noise you’d been making until he’d pointed it out, but here you were, all but saying his name like a prayer as your legs began to shake, the coil in your stomach winding painfully tight.

“Dean, please,” you begged him, unsure if you wanted him to stop, because you knew this was so fucking wrong. You didn’t fuck demons, this wasn’t you, but be fucked if it didn’t feel so fucking good. Dean was playing your body like a fiddle, and you were helplessly grinding down on his hands as he increased the speed of his fingers.

“Please what, Y/N?” he said, chuckling as you did all you could not to fall over the edge he had you teetering on. “It’s all you sweetheart, all you gotta do is let go.”

You shook your head no as he laughed again, sinking his teeth into your pulse point hard enough to make you almost cum right there, but you refused to do it, you just couldn’t do it.

This is wrong, this is WRONG!

“You know what your problem is Y/N? You are always SO FUCKING TENSE! All the fucking time. You walk around like you got this big stick up your ass, and a chip on your shoulder. I did the same for a long fucking time, but you know what baby girl, I’m gonna do you a favor. I’m gonna teach you the art of letting go, and we’re gonna start right here in this parking lot. Now, cum.”

Dean added his thumb against your throbbing clit, and as if on command from some invisible force, you came hard enough to blur your vision. The coil in your stomach snapped as your pussy clenched around his thick digits, your juices running down his hand and soaking your panties further. He worked you through your release until your body fell lax against the car, and your breath came out in short pants as you tried to stand on shaking legs.

“Hope you're not too tired yet bitch, that was just lesson one.” Dean said, turning you around to meet cole black eyes, and a smirk carved by the devil himself.

You knew this was wrong, but there wasn’t a chance in hell you were going to get away from him now, so you might as well sit back and learn how to let go and enjoy the ride.

Forever Tags: @deanwanddamons @rvgrsbrns @bi-danvers0 @onethirstyunicorn @i-love-superhero @akshi8278 @lyss-dw79 @magssteenkamp @lemondropirwin @squirrelnotsam @hobby27 @spnbaby-67 @mrsjenniferwinchester @defenderrosetyler @screechingartisancashbailiff @thecreatiivecorner @aflamboyanceofgays @vicmc624 @busy-bee-angel-misska @justanotherwinchester @brilovesdeanwinchester @idksupernatural @lyarr24 @amandamdiehl @love-jackles-37-blog @miraclesoflove @Waywardsistershy @emoryhemsworth @dean-winchesters-gardian-angel @softsebastian @tatted-trina6 @deanmonandnegansbitch @hayleeharling @flamencodiva @coldmuffinbanditshoe @bxbyizzy @dirty-pan-goblin @itmejado @supernatural3002 @teresa-67 @thoughts-and-funnies @hearteyes-j2 @miss-nerd95

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tinyboxxtink · 3 years

Text

Build Me Up Buttercup *PART 7*

Whooo man, I don’t know if this is a longer chapter or not. I had planned on splitting the situations into two separate chapters, but it seemed short so I combined them.

If you need to catch up!

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 8

Tag List: @wanniiieeee

Rafael slammed the door to the men’s room open, terrifying some poor cowboy just trying to use the john.

“Sorry…” He nodded apologetically to the guy who grumbled some obscenities as he washed his hands and left, leaving Rafael alone to stew.

Why had he just done that?! Why did he have to glance back at your table as soon as you closed your eyes? In that split second, he had locked eyes with Olivia. They were so close it was like they could telepath whole sentences between each other; and the look she had given him in that moment was definitely saying “What the FUCK do you think you’re doing?”.

Truth be told he really had no idea what he was doing, it all happened so fast. Really, the whole day was a blur. Before today you were just a junior detective to him, albeit a very sexy one. But truthfully you were barely a blip on his radar; you didn’t speak much, and when you did it was usually insulting him or contradicting. How had this one out of town trip completely flipped your relationship through a dryer tumble cycle? First the song in the car, the coffee in the car, the Fahey’s bathroom, and now this. At one point did he start…falling for you? Was he even falling for you? Were you planning this thing all along? Had you been seducing him? No, surely he wasn’t that dumb to just be seduced by a pair of pretty eyes and a tight t-shirt...and a soft soul who’d been through so much at so young…

NO.

He wasn’t doing this. Not here, not now.

----

“What do you mean, he just left?”

Once again you had fled to the bathroom, this time to update your BFF on the never ending nightmare that was this day.

“I mean he LEFT. He mumbled some bullshit about being ‘sorry’ and just….walked away. No I’m sorry, he RAN away.”

“Well...maybe he got scared?”

“A grown man?”

“I don’t know from what you’ve said about him, he seems pretty high strung am I right?”

“That’s putting it lightly…”

“I mean the fact that you even got him on that dance floor sounds like a miracle to me, maybe he just got in his head all of a sudden,”

“Maybe…”

“Which means….” they paused ominously.

“Means what?” you asked skeptically.

“You’ve gotten yourself a def con one situation here, babe,”

“...What?” you were completely lost.

“Everyone knows the rule, Y/N” they kept completely serious.

“Wha-What RULE?”

“The RULE! Once you have a…’moment’ with someone that gets interrupted, you HAVE to actually kiss them...or bang them but let’s be realistic,” they continued in a very serious tone, despite the fact that they were talking conspiracy theories.

“Is ANY of that realistic? What happens if you ‘break’ this rule?”

“You have to kiss them in 24 hours or else you’ll just stay friends forever,” They stated like an oracle.

“Do you hear yourself when you talk, or has the crazy just become white noise at this point?” You rolled your eyes.

“Mock all you want, but you remember Duncan and Sarah?”

“They went on one date and decided to be friends?”

“No no, they went on one date and she got called away before the end of it, thus nixing the good night kiss. And then the next time they ‘went out’, it had been 72 hours and when he went in for the good night kiss, she said they were better AS FRIENDS,”

“...THAT’S what you're basing this insane rule on? A story about people we barely know?”

“Well, it was also on Scrubs. Elliot and JD had to go through SO MUCH just because he couldn’t man up in those 24 hours!” They insisted.

“Oh my god, I’m hanging up--”

“WAIT WAIT WAIT, Come on Y/N just hear me out,” They begged. You sighed, putting two fingers across your eyes.

“Alright, let’s hear it,”

“Look, you can choose to think I’m full of shit, but you gotta ask yourself: Are you willing to chance it?”

You bit your lip, actually pondering if she could be right.

“And you better think REAL quick, because your time has already been cut in half,” they added.

“NOW what the hell are you talking about?”

“You’re like, on a ‘vacation’ right now. Barba is FINALLY seeing you, like a person. A woman. Someone who’s not up his ass for warrants or bitching about deadlines,”

“I’m not that--” you tried protesting.

“Shush. No time. You’re in like, another dimension right now. I’ll bet money as SOON as you hit the city line he’s gonna go back to his robot self and remember the fact that you two are completely inappropriate--”

“Oh come on that’s a strong--” you once again tried defending yourself.

“I’m just saying what he’s gonna reason, babe. You know I’m right,”

You paced the bathroom now, thinking of all the reasons you and Barba were bad news.

“....What if he’s already there? What if that’s why he walked off? What if he’s talking himself out of….ANYTHING?”

“THIS IS WHAT I’M SAYING, HELLO You need another ‘moment’, but without everyone staring at you. I’ll bet you anything that’s what got him into his head all of a sudden,”

Your eyes widened, remembering the front row seats your entire squad had to your little romantic moment.

“Oh my god you might be right...they were all staring at us,”

“See?? You need to get him alone,” They went on, as you walked out of the bathroom.

“...Fuck,”

“What? Fuck what? WHAT?!”

“I may have run out of time,”

You saw Barba approaching the booth again, Olivia gesturing wildly. The body language of their conversation did not seem very encouraging. What was worse, Amber walked up and handed them a check.

“I think we’re leaving, Olivia got the check and she looks like a mad mom bitching out her ten year old for trying to swipe candy,” You groaned, ducking behind a man with a huge cowboy hat and following behind him to a seat at the bar, out of the squad’s eye line.

“You need more time! You can’t just get in the car and drive back with everybody there, the ‘moment’ will never happen!”

“Okay can you stop with this, I’m already flipping out enough without you stating the obvious,” you twirled your hair and bit your lip.

“....You need to do something to your car.” they suddenly threw that at you like it was a completely reasonable statement.

“EXCUSE ME?”

“Slash one of your tires!”

“Are you high right now, be honest with me,” You narrowed your eyes.

“Desperate times, babe,”

“Desperate times, not PSYCHOTIC times,”

“Look if you have a flat tire, you’ll have to call AAA and have them come and fix it, that should give you at least an hour. Then you can go back inside, get him ALONE, and get your moment!” They tried reasoning with you. Was that Hurricane THAT strong, or were they actually making some sense?

“...Why am I listening to this?” you kept a straight face, even though it was just a phone call.

“You can act smug all you want baby, but I can hear it in your voice; you’re considering it,”

“Of course I’m considering it! But it’s...it’s insane. It’s like, ‘Fatal Attraction’ crazy,”

“Ok I’m not telling you to boil his bunny, just inconvenience yourselves for another hour, drama queen,” you could hear both of you rolling your respective eyes at each other.

“And what’s more insane; puncturing a tire, or giving up something we both know you’ve wanted for MONTHS,” They pointed out.

“How do you--” You blinked in disbelief.

“Girl, please. I knew before you did, and I’ve never even met the man,”

After several more moments of silence, you pulled your keys towards your face.

“...I’ll call you later,”

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you sprinted outside to the parking lot and back to your car. You pulled the nail file attached to your key ring, and stared at your tires.

“God forgive me…” You sighed, making a sign of the cross across your chest before kneeling next to your left rear tire.

You dragged the nail file across the tire, it barely made a scratch. Panic began filling your head, thinking of missing any chance to have Rafael’s lips on yours. Your BFF was right, you probably had a thing for him the moment you met him; even though you hadn’t even dared to let yourself think about it, until this morning. This WAS like an alternate dimension, it was like the rules of the ‘normal’ world were moot.

The emotions of it all bubbled to a head as you stared at the tire; with a sort of pathetic battle cry, you PLUNGED the nail file into your tire and pulled it HARD across the top. Air came gushing out, the tire deflating in mere seconds. You sat back, the nail file in your hand like a machete, your breath going in and out like you had just run a marathon. Okay, you did go a LITTLE psycho there for a second.

You barely had time to admire the work, you knew you had to go back inside to make it look like you had been in the bathroom this whole time.

There was no going back now.

----

Back inside you weaved in and out of the crowd back towards the bathroom, then made a turn for the booth so it looked like you had come from that direction. You walked up slowly, still hidden in the crowded bar as you heard an exchange between Barba and Oliva.

“...What I’m saying is, don’t start leading her on when you know it’s not going anywhere,”

“How do you know it’s not going anywhere, Liv?”

“Barba. Be serious,”

Oh hell no. Who was she to make that decision? Surely he didn’t think that...did he?

“HEY, hi,” you spoke up loudly, the entire group jumping at your rather loud greeting.

“Oh hey Y/N we uh, I got the check. I just went ahead and paid for everybody, and when I say I, I mean Dodd’s,” She smiled, like she hadn’t just insulted the fuck out of you.

“Oh, yeah? Ready to head home then?” You acted completely oblivious, noticing Rafael was avoiding your eyes.

“Yeah, I’ve got my nanny waiting on me and it’s already...8 o clock?!” Olivia gasped, looking at her phone.

“Good lord, how long have we been here? I better call my sitter,” Amanda grabbed her own phone out of her bag as the group walked out.

“Well, we were driving for a good 45 minutes outside of Hartford before Rafael made us stop here,”

“Wait, what?” You now for the very first time, took a good long look at the parking lot. The bar was next to a motel on one side, a gas station on the other side next to it. And then field, across from it. And for miles.

You were literally in the middle of nowhere.

“Oh god…” you muttered, mentally yelling obscenities at your BFF and yourself for listening to their bat shit logic. Fin glanced at you quizzically, overhearing your ranting-- and then you heard Sonny’s voice.

“Is that….?”

You saw him gesture towards your back wheel. FUCK.

“Oh my god, are you serious?? A Flat tire?!” Amanda slammed her phone against your car.

“Barba must have driven across a nail, or glass, or something in the parking lot. Probably a broken beer bottle if we’re being honest,” Sonny scoffed looking at the less than stellar cars in the parking lot.

“Hey it’s not Barba’s fault!” You snapped defensively, once again mentally face palming. THINK before speaking.

“I mean it’s...it’s nobody’s fault, right? I mean, maybe the road people? Or, drunk hicks? Certainly no one here in this vicinity though, I mean obviously,” Nope, still couldn’t stop talking.

Olivia’s eyes narrowed, looking from you to Barba, who was staring at the pavement silently. She started to say something, but realized she had no concrete evidence to start throwing accusations.

“She’s right Liv, it was just a stupid accident,” Fin chimed in, patting Olivia’s shoulder.

“Do you at least have AAA?” Olivia asked you, still suspicious of the sudden turn of events.

“Oh yeah, I’ve...I’ve never used it before though,” You dug into your wallet and pulled out a worn out AAA card. Olivia took it and started dialing the number into her phone.

You took this moment to start your mission, despite the fact that your plan was quickly running off the rails.

“Can we…?” You motioned sideways, Barba nodded and moved to the side with you.

“Look, Y/N. The whole dance thing it was, cute. Flattering.”

“Flattering?” you scoffed. Seriously?

“But, I mean you know we’re in front of the whole squad, and we’re working,” His words cut you like knives. Was he actually implying that whole was embarrassing?

“ ..And I just don’t think--”

“ARE YOU SERIOUS?” Olivia’s booming voice snapped you both out of the conversation.

“Yeah, well-- thanks a lot,” she scoffed, tossing your card as she hung up the phone.

“Hey I might--” you walked back over to her, her red hot eyes meeting yours.

“You don’t have AAA out here,” she spoke directly to you, the annoyance of her voice turning to anger.

“W-What do you mean they don’t--”

“I mean, Y/N-- your AAA card is for NEW YORK, and we’re still in CONNECTICUT,”

“Liv seriously will you knock it off? Leave her alone, she didn’t know,” Barba finally spoke up in defense of you, putting space between you and Olivia.

“I’m...I’m sorry, Y/N. I know it’s not your fault,” she apologized, not knowing it was indeed your fault.

“What am I gonna tell Lucy? We’re going to be stuck here until morning,” She sighed.

“Morning?” Amanda exclaimed angrily. “What about my Jesse?”

“I’m sure Lucy will watch her at my place with Noah, Amanda. I’ll call her right now,” Olivia assured her, the two of them walking off to the side.

You started running your hands through your hair and pacing like mad, trying not to hyperventilate. This wasn’t supposed to happen!! This was supposed to be a MINOR inconvenience, not a crisis! WHY did you listen to your BFF?

“Hey, are you ok?” Barba came up behind you and put both hands on your shoulders.

“Come on Y/N you know that’s not what I--” he protested but you wouldn’t hear it.

“Why do you care all of a sudden? Didn’t I embarrass you in front of your colleagues?” You snapped your head around, glaring at him.

“Can we please just forget it, PLEASE? I am already getting my karmic ass kicked, I don’t need you lecturing me on top of it,” You started walking towards the door of the bar.

“What? I’m not lecturing you I don’t--” He trailed behind you.

“EXACTLY,” You spun back around, planting your feet as you stared directly into his eyes. He stopped suddenly almost on top of you, surprised by your sudden stop; his puppy dog eyes were begging you to forgive him.

“Exactly. You don’t want to, I get it counselor. I get it. I should have never--” you feigned tears welling up in your throat.

“Carino--” he went for your hand.

“Don’t. Just-- I’m sorry. For all of this,” You snapped your hand back and ran back inside the bar, noticing Barba following right behind you. Your fake tear filled face now slid into a sly smirk.

You were getting this moment come hell or high water now.

#rafael barba #rafael barba x reader #rafael barba x you #rafael barba imagine #law and order svu #law and order special victims unit #svu fanfiction #build me up buttercup

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jordanr770-blog · 3 years

Text

America Needs Some Talent

I just needed someplace to write down my thoughts so here we are!

I have been watching America’s Got Talent since season 11 when the ukulele girl won. I personally didn’t vote for her but can understand why she won. Same goes for season 12. I was rooting super hard for Diavolo but can understand why puppet girl won. Season 13 had some of the best acts ever (Shin Lim-winner) and I know a lot of people disliked her, but Courtney Hadwin should have at least gotten 5th place over sob story “I’m such a good person and I hit my wife” Michael Ketterer. Kodi Lee was the obvious winner of season 14 and I personally thought he deserved it over the other acts. Other people did not think it was well deserved, and that’s ok too.

Last season we got a spoken word poet in the form of Brandon Leake. I did not enjoy the act AT ALL and was kind of mad that he won, but I will say that even though I did not enjoy him, spoken word poetry is indeed a talent.

Now, you may be thinking that season 16 would be a smidgeon of an improvement over season 15. Talent and reality shows should probably strive to become better every season. But if you thought this show isn’t capable of getting any worse, you haven’t been paying attention because this show will always find ways to disappoint. Last night we were told everyone voted for an INSPIRATIONAL speech giver as the winner. Or I’m sorry, apparently he does magic. His name is Dustin Tavella. But the thing is, he was HORRIBLE at both storytelling AND magic and nowhere near deserved the win. “It was well deserved.” How? How is a kindergarten level “magician” worth a million dollars and a Vegas show? I believe the show in Vegas is about an hour and a half and I am curious as to what is he going to do in that timeframe? Talk about how the folks living in Vegas are living in sin while simultaneously throwing paper in the air MAGICALLY? I’m sure the audience will go wild over that. Or maybe during all of his shows he will adopt a kid a day from different countries and then spend about an hour talking about Little ZimZam’s harsh life and while he’s babbling he’ll be semi incorporating his poor magic skills into the act in the last minute so the poster stating he’s a magician didn’t TECHNICALLY lie so nobody is getting their money back. I really don’t know. I have a lot of thoughts.

Plus, his sob story just did nothing for me whatsoever. Good for you for adapting 11 children, unless it has to do with whatever your act is, shut the hell up and do the trick! Not once did this guy impress or give even the best of a performance of the night. It was always 8+ minutes of “inspiration” and tirades about how we as a society need to be good to one another whilst doing crappy magic. Let me tell you, I know next to nothing about magic but even I could tell he was a less than stellar magician. Even calling him a magician is somewhat laughable. In reality he's a motivational speaker who does terrible magic tricks and who always somehow manages to suck at said terrible magic but America apparently doesn’t notice him screwing up his terrible magic because he’s too busy telling them to look at a crumpled up piece of paper or a ladder or the new photograph of his adopted son who has an extra eyeball or whatever. It’s stupid.

Last night for his final performance Dustin’s act was, and I kid you not, telling us all to be nice. FOR SEVEN UNNECESSARY MINUTES. And I do believe he started to fake cry. Dude, you’re acting is about as good as Heidi Klum’s. You can't act and you can barely do magic. Why are you here? What is your talent? Did he really join a talent show to become some type of inspirational God of obvious wisdom? If that’s the case, he should have gone and done a Ted Talk, many less victims of mediocrity that way. America somehow put him in the top 5 with actually talented people? I think not. The act itself was not impressive and he did the same thing every time, just told a different sob story. If you have to rely on a sad story to win, you don’t deserve to win a show where talent is the main objective.

In case my last few paragraphs were not made abundantly clear, I am not a fan of this dude. At all. I read a comment which stated that a message is not a talent and whoever said that is 100% correct and summed up my feelings pretty accurately. I'm not a fan or boring and basic tricks combined with even worse stories. He's the living embodiment of a motivational meme and anyone who voted for this guy is gullible and can fight me. Maybe people “voted” for him because he attempted to pull on the heartstrings? But because I sold my heart long ago his act didn’t effect me as much. /s But I swear every year they make it more clear that the entire show is rigged.

Well, maybe the voting ISN’T rigged entirely and all the boomers (first time I’ve ever used that term) and antivaxxers and easily swayed by sob story people on Twitter and Facebook voted for him. Doubtful, but you never know. HE WAS SO FREAKING BAD!!!

We are all allowed to have opinions and just because you don’t agree with me that doesn’t mean I am an awful person who deserves DEATH. I keep getting responses and messages on Twitter from angry folk who are calling me heartless because I questioned WHY they voted for him. “Well, IIIII gave Dustin all 10 of my votes!” That’s nice Karen. That is also not an answer and I cannot stress enough how much I do not care that you voted for the phony used cars salesman. Go tell your Prince from Nigeria all about it. Another guy got mad and reported me for “yelling at strangers.” Which is kind of a typical thing people do on Twitter. And I wasn’t even yelling! Lol.

And another point I’d like to make (about this and in general) is people really need to stop using the terms “all of us” and the word “we.” I am my own person and you do not get to speak for me.

“We were all crying when we saw him perform!” - No WE most certainly weren’t. I was seething with anger, yes. Crying? Not even close.

“His magic touched all of our hearts!” WHAT MAGIC? WHERE WAS THE MAGIC IN THIS MANS ENTIRE ACT? I MUST HAVE MISSED IT AFTER I PASSED OUT FROM HIS 7 MINUTE LONG STORY ABOUT HIS BORING LIFE.

His win was a complete insult.

* I personally voted for Aidan Bryant, but I really wanted Unicircle Flow to win before they got kicked off due to the judges having a tendency to suck at picking during judges choice. *

Edit: I apologize if this wasn’t articulated very well or if it seems I basically said the same thing over and over. To be fair it was 3 am when I wrote this and I was still irritated and questioning everything. Still doesn’t excuse the fact that this guy was lame and doesn’t deserve a Vegas show. My mom told me earlier today that people on the Internet are mad about his win and that it’s not fair to take it out on the guy, which I suppose is kind of true. Not exactly his fault the general public has failed and shown their stupidity yet again. If anyone is to blame it is the people who actually voted for this doofus. And AGT. And yeah, I guess I will blame him as well. But I’m not saying go to his Twitter or Instagram or whatever and call him out for being a con artist and bully him.

I think the MESSAGE =P I’m trying to display here is that someone has no business being on a talent show unless they have talent; self explanatory. A message isn’t talent. Being a narcissist isn’t talent. Exploiting your kids and wife isn’t talent. Speaking can be a talent (comedy, that poetry guy, acting, improv, probably a lot of other stuff I’m forgetting about) but one shouldn’t call themselves a magician if one is really a way less cool garage sale version of Talky Tina. Magic IS talent but if you want a million dollars you better have skills that are on par or better than the professionals.

#agt #rant #INSPIRATIONAL #Magic #Adoptakid

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cosmic-lavender · 3 years

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Stability Chapter 4

Otis driftwood x Reader

(I do not own these gifs)

Authors note:~ Quick reminder please be aware of any triggers that may make you uncomfortable when proceeding with the story, which is not limited to hateful terminology (I tried to be as accurate as possible with the dialogue in the movie), mentions of non-con, sexual situations, and violence.~

Saying Baby and Otis enjoyed having hostages would be an understatement, the stress of everything that happened in the last 24 hours took a toll on them, and these poor folks were just the people to help take out some of that stress. “Chinese, Japanese, dirty knees, look at these” Baby sang and danced around the motel room to the forced audience, while her brother sat in the chair across from the group pointing a gun at them. Roy tried to avert his eyes from Baby’s dancing and cower with his wife, but it was slightly difficult with her pushing her tits right in his face.

Otis took this opportunity to further provoke the man. “Hoss, are you staring at my sister thinking bad thoughts?” he asked him, pointing the gun at the four of them. “No,” he replied with a shake in his voice. " Well, why not? are you a faggot?” Otis asked him looking at him slightly sideways "No” said Roy, "Well, what are ya then? I mean you got this hot, piece of ass shaking her shit right in front of you and you're not getting any ideas. What do you call that?" "I'm a married man,” he replied. "Wow!” Baby yelled, waving her hands in the air, “a married man!" "Well, shit” Otis exclaimed “I'm married too! look at us, that's just great! Let's give him a big round of applause, folks for the married man! come on! Oh, man ain't married life just great? You should see my wife Hoss she's got the best part of tits on her whew shit".

Otis looked down at the gun in his hand after that last comment, the hand that had the matching scar that you had on your left hand. He slowly used his thumb to caress the lifted scar tissue. Fuck he missed you, no he ached for you. He trusted you and knew that you could take care of yourself, but the idea that he didn't know where you were and when he was going to find you.. that didn't sit well with him. God, he missed the smell of your hair when he grabbed you by the waist and pulled you close. His large hands gripping your locks as he pressed y/h/c into his nose. The little laughs you would do when he startled you and grabbed you from behind. He took those moments for granted, he knows that now and he regrets it. He thought back to the last night you spent together before you all had to flee. You had helped picked that nights victim earlier that day, you had been at work when a group of young men had entered the gas station, they looked like a group of tourists just passing through,

“Hey waitress why don’t you make yourself useful and go see what’s taking my fucking chicken?” one of them snapped at you while picking up random items and putting them down. “ I’m not your waitress but I can go see what’s taking so long for you,” you replied through gritted teeth, “ thanks sweet cheeks,” he said as he slapped your ass when you walked by. Well needless to say Otis was not happy when he heard that occurred, you had taken down the license plate before they took off and gave it to him as soon as you got in the truck. After heading home and grabbing Rufus, the boys searched the nearest motel for the make and plates of the car. When they found them they kidnapped them and dragged them back to the house. It was a bloodbath, you and the rest of the family took no mercy on the boys, tearing them apart all night.

Eventually, it ended up just being you two in the basement, Baby had long gone upstairs to play dress-up with one of the boys. Otis held the victim that had slapped you on the ass while you stabbed him over and over again, right in the side of the neck then the chest, and later under the armpit, while this occurred Otis screamed words of encouragement to you hyping you up during this assault. By the end you both were a bloody heaving mess, your heart was fluttering like a hummingbird, blood was splattered all over the both of you. You turned to him with your chest heaving heavily, “Otis” you painted still holding the knife, you let it fall to the ground with a clang “ yeah sugar” he walks over to you and grabs your face with his blood-soaked hands lifting your face to look at him, running his finger over your lips, mixing the red lipstick on your lips with the red on his hands, “what do you want from your almighty devil”?.

Seeing the look in his eyes you knew that the devil that lived in him was front and center, this didn’t scare you though, oh no quite the opposite. You closed your eyes for a second, before opening them and looking him straight in his ” you’re the almighty devil, and I want you to make me your fucking whore” with that last sentence you took his blood-soaked thumb into your mouth and sucked on it before letting it out with a pop. He sucked in air sharply before grabbing the back of your neck and shoving you down toward the floor “ on your knees like my good whore”. You happily obliged, kneeling in front of him you took his large member in your blood-soaked hand and inserted it into your mouth. Never breaking eye contact you bobbed your head up and down until you milked every single drop from him. Grabbing your hair he turned your head upward at him, you smiled with your face a mixture of blood and semen, “ such a beautiful good whore”.

“You said you’re married?” This question came from Adam still cowering behind the ladies and Roy on the bed. This question snapped him out of his fond memory and forced him to look toward them. “ Yeah I did, why is that shocking? are you saying that an ugly fuck like me couldn't score a hot piece of ass like my wife?” “no no no that’s not it” “ Then what is it hm? You got something to say to me?, Boy, the next word that comes out of your mouth better be some brilliant fuckin' Mark Twain shit, 'cause it's gettin' chiseled on your tombstone.” “ I just .. does your wife know you do things like this?” asked Roy, raising his voice a little, Gloria gasped and lightly gripped his arm, shushing him.

"Woooo man! getting a little bold there Roy! Such a big brave man all of a sudden, showing off in front of the misses there hm?" Otis said, pointing the gun at Gloria, he got quiet for a second after that, lowering the gun and thinking to himself "All right. okay, mama, front and center, on your feet.". Gloria and Roy looked back at each other confused. "okay, come on, Mama. Take that shit off, let's see what's been holding Hoss's balls at attention all these years" "what … " Gloria asked looking back at Roy then at Otis," What? Take off your clothes, or one of these assholes is going to die. Come on, come on". Gloria stands and shakily takes off her top and pants leaving her in her underwear, "shit, way to go, Roy! she ain't too bad. She got a tight little ass on her!" Baby exclaimed.

Otis grabbed Gloria bringing her to him, why did Roy get to enjoy his wife while he couldn't? Naw fuck that, fuck Roy, fuck the world for taking you away. "Please don't hurt me, please don't hurt me" Gloria begged as Otis pulled her real close in running the gun all up and down her leg and stomach "you like this, don't ya? Say "Yes, I do. " You like that, don't ya? Say "Yes, I do. " Yes, I do. Yes, I do". Gloria tried to look at the ground but Otis pointed the gun at her temple warning her to start compiling "Yes, I... I do".

"You like they don't ya? Hmm huh, mamas" *grunts* "yes yes I do" you moaned as Otis grabbed both your breasts and squeezed them as hard as he could. The messy blow job was just the beginning, after you smiled at him with your sinfully filled mouth he had scooped you up and pressed you up against the nearest wall. You moaned again as he pounded into you and bit your teeth into his shoulder earning a deep pornographic growl from him and causing Otis to thrust into you even harder and faster. "Give me some sugar mama, oh yeah make it sweet" he whispered onto your lips before roughly kissing you, you opened your mouth wider to deepen the kiss and he took this opportunity to shove his tongue inside your mouth. You pulled back to gasp for air after the intrusion on your mouth and before you had a chance to catch your breath, you kissed him again but this time it was soft and gentle, he pushed into you slower now and less violently. He lazily nipped your bottom lip, pulling it back some, he rested his forehead on yours and stared into your eyes as he finished with a few final thrusts.

"Okay. Okay, now. Give me some sugar. Make it sweet. Don't want me to tense up my trigger finger. My finger's getting tense... I want you to say, "You're the almighty devil, and I want you to make me your fucking whore. " Come on, say it. I know it. I know you're feeling it. Say it.". Otis at this point had forced Gloria into a kneeling position after violating her with the pistol. The whole scene was a vile obscene site, he suddenly grabbed her again roughly pulling her up towards him, " fucking … say it" "You're... the... almighty... devil and I want you... to make me your... fucking whore" she splattered barely getting the words out. Otis laughed and shoved her back toward the bed " you fucking make me sick". This site causes Baby to bust out laughing "Woo-hoo! I feel like we're all getting to know each other now". " All right, ladies" her brother exclaims, "I and the boys have an errand to run. We'll be back in a little while. Come on, Hoss, move it. Come on, shit stain! Gotta go! Come on! God damn it!".

#otis driftwood #house of 1000 corpses #three from hell #otis driftwood x reader #otis firefly #thedevilsrejects #the devils rejects

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liliaeth · 3 years

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Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!) See if there are any patterns. Choose your favourite opening line. Then tag 10 of your favourite authors!

Well the one pattern I can see is that I have way too many wips, damn my flighty muse

I’m tagging anyone willing to do this one

1. The Weapons of our warfare are not of the flesh (Nicolò di Genova/Yusuf al Kaysani, The Old Guard

Yusuf wasn’t even sure what he was doing, taking the invader with him. He should have left the man behind after the Franks took the city, but when he’d seen the look on the Christian’s face, that thousand mile stare in the other’s eyes, he’d been unable to do so. There had been a plea in the way he knelt there, not even reaching for a weapon, though he and Yusuf had killed each other dozens of times by now. Almost as if he wanted Yusuf to kill him. That might have been why he stayed his blade at first, that notion that he couldn’t give the other what he wanted, not after what the Franks had done. But then he’d seen the man’s eyes and he hadn’t been able to stop himself from feeling pity for him.

2. The Body Remembers (Scott McCall/Theo Raeken, Teen Wolf

He had flinched.

3. We come from Warriors (gen fic, with some Nicky/Joe , The Old Guard)

Solomon hesitated as he reached the door. He didn't want to go in. Not now, not when Mom would have prettied up the room, trying to achieve holiday cheer, desperate to pretend things were normal, that there wasn't another empty chair at the table. He was about ready to just turn around, to take his gifts back to the car and leave, go to a bar, and drink soda after soda, until he got on too much of a high and had to head out in his car, driving till the carbohydrate high was out of his system.

4.Artefacts of history (Nicky/Joe, Andy/Quynh, Nile, The Old Guard)

His first thought was ‘another one’.

5. Sinking Down (Gen, Andy and Booker, The Old Guard)

Booker wasn’t even sure why he was in this damn room, with these people, none of whom had a clue who he was, or what he’d done. They all had their issues of course, and he wasn’t stupid enough to assume that anything he went through was worse than what they went through.

6. Tomatoes, lettuce and a burger (Gen, Dean and Sam Winchester, Supernatural)

Dean wasn’t sure what it was that made it feel like his heart was torn to pieces. Sam was sitting right there, mere inches away from him. Reading, writing, Dean wasn’t sure what his brother was doing as Dean himself was cooking.

7. A Soldier goes marching on (gen, Nile Freeman, and Jay, The Old Guard)

Jay stared at he empty bunk. Dizzy wouldn’t even look at her. Jay would have screamed at her, but she knew it wasn’t fair, since her anger was aimed as much at herself as it was at Dizzy. And neither would do any good.

8. New Wolf in the Old Guard (Teen Wolf/The Old Guard crossover, Scott centric)

Scott woke up gasping for air. It was the third time this week that he had the dream of drowning. The other dreams were weird, and scary, but he’d have any of them over the ones where he drowned.

9. Good Little Milker (Dean Winchester, Supernatural a/b/o au)

Dean was still sulking. Sam could see it in the poor Omega cow's eyes, the way he glared at the both of them, when he thought Sam or Dad weren't looking. Oh sure, he was playing nice after the rough spanking Dad had given him. Dad had had no choice after Dean's initial tantrum when John had mentioned what was going to happen. It hadn't really been a surprise to anyone but Dean himself, when Sam's younger brother had presented as an Omega. Even during the first signs of his first heat, the boy had still been hoping to present at least as a beta if not an Alpha. But both Sam and John had known better. Dean was a brat, but he'd always been at his happiest when Dad or Sam told him what to do.

10. Clean (JDM/Jensen Ackles, spn rps, non-con)

Jeff couldn't believe his luck. The notion that this perfect piece of slave flesh had never once been fucked was probably the biggest waste of a slave's body he'd ever seen in his life.

11. Light in the Basement (Jensen Ackles/Jared Padalecki, spn rps, non-con)

Jensen wasn't even sure what had happened as he slowly woke up face down on a dusty floor. He stared up at the room he was in. It was dark, stuffy, like there was something in his throat making it hard to breathe. There was a pervading smell of shit and mold hanging around the place, like he was in a badly cleaned toilet in one of the factories he'd been working at over the past few months. He crawled up into the dark

12. The Treaty (Jensen Ackles/Jared Padalecki, spn rps, a/b/o, dub-con)

Peace. After ten years of war, it was long awaited, and even from the throne room, Jared could hear the celebrations spreading across the capitol city. Jared wished he could join the people, spend time with his loved ones and hold his mother, but all he could think of was his father's face as he'd died in Jared's arms.

13. the Wolf who Ran with Hunters (gen Teen Wolf/Supernatural, Scott-centric)

Scott shivered as he woke up. He didn’t want to open his eyes, because once he did, he’d have to accept that he was all alone in some crappy motel room. Outside the window, he could see the dusty town in Oklahoma which he didn’t even know the name of.

14. Covered in Bandaids (Scott McCall/Isaac Lahey, Teen Wolf)

Isaac wasn’t quite sure what he was doing at the field. He shouldn’t even care about lacrosse any more. He was strong now, and lacrosse had been something he’d done because his father wanted him to be more like Camden.

15. Breaking Point (Scott McCall/Theo Raeken, Teen Wolf)

The place was cold. Even with the increased body heat of a werewolf Scott shivered in the corner of the cell. He wished he’d been wearing more than a tank top and his jeans when the cops had burst into his room. They hadn’t told him what he was being arrested for, or what they wanted, which as far as he knew, was not the norm.

16. Kindness for the Devil (Lucifer Morningstar/Scott McCall, Lucifer/Teen Wolf)

It was a night like any other. Things were a bit too quiet over at Lux, but then it was early, and it seemed to make Linda happy, making her more likely to stay instead of having her take Charlie and leaving.

17.Can’t Always hold him back (Stiles Stilinski/Derek Hale, Teen Wolf)

Scott looked down at Stiles, carefully listening to his friend’s heartbeat, pushing out the distraction of outside noise. Nurses and visitors talking in the hall outside, the beeping of the machine monitoring Stiles. He desperately tried to follow the pattern. It scared him, how hard his friend’s heart was working just to keep going, how difficult Stiles’ breathing went even with the oxygen mask covering his mouth and nose. Scott had finally managed to get the sheriff to go downstairs to have something to eat, maybe even take a shower if Mom could slip him into the staff showers. They all knew that their stay here could end up being a marathon that might last days more than it already had.

18. Beloved (Btvs/Angel, co written with @spikesheart)

Sitting at one end of a fully laden table, Buffy looked at the appetizers piled on the finest bone china sitting atop platinum charger plates, studied her matching platinum silverware, and wrangled with the finely woven silver linen napkin in her lap – patently avoiding her lover’s gaze as he sat at the other end. Only the best of everything life had to offer was laid out before her. A wide variety of catered pasta, meat and vegetable dishes filled every square inch of space in between them, yet nothing caught her fancy.

19. Parent Wolf (Teen Wolf, the parents)

She woke up in an endless white room, found her head leaning against the bark of an old tree trunk, staring up and noticing several other men and women waking up alongside her.

20. Missed Shot (gen, teen wolf, Scott-centric)

Scott stared up at the men coming closer and at the man who had just shot him with an arrow. Derek Hale, the creepy guy who’d lured him here in the first place, tried to grab him and pull him loose, but seconds later he was down on the ground as well with arrows in his leg and back. Scott stared around in fear, pulling at the arrow, too scared to think of breaking it free.

#Teen Wolf #the old guard #supernatural #supernatural rps #fanfic meme

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leverage-ot3 · 4 years

Text

notable moments from The First David Job

leverage 1.12

sophie organized the notecards for the intervention

- - - - -

Sophie: Drunk again?

Nate: Are we still unclear? I'm a functioning alcoholic, you know? And the trick is not to get hung up on the "alcoholic." But celebrate the "functioning" part of the sentence.

- - - - -

Nate: Yeah, I- I know all this.

Hardison: No, no, no. See, while you are well-versed in dead-guy art, I myself am not. My entire criminal career is based on technology built after 1981. So I am riveted. Quite so. Please, do go on.

- - - - -

Hardison: Man, am I glad I don't have to break in there. That is one sick security system.

Parker: What, with our tools? Give me three days of prep, it'd be like taking diamonds from the French national bank. That's like taking candy from a baby.

Hardison: I got it.

Parker: A very easy thing to do.

Hardison: Got...it

I love her

- - - - -

Parker: Oh, look, little buddy. (picks up fake statue) That's your new home!

Hardison: Can you please not play with the little naked man? Please.

Parker: I'm not. (sets the statue down)

- - - - -

Eliot: You guys--you know each other?

Ian: Of course. Maggie is Nate’s ex-wife.

Eliot (nervously): Oh.

eliot being completely RATTLED lmfao

- - - - -

Parker: Which conversation do you want to listen to?

Hardison: That's what stereo was invented for.

- - - - -

Hardison: Now, Nate, is Maggie a very good Art Inspector?

Nate: Yeah, she's the best.

Parker: No, no, no, we can't let your ex-wife anywhere near our little naked man!

parker: don’t talk to me or my naked son ever again

- - - - -

Hardison: No, no. Nate, we haven't done any prep. We don't have our tools.

Parker: You want me to break into a secure storage facility with whatever I can scrounge up at the buffet table?

Nate: Pretty much, yeah.

Parker: Cool. I think Sophie left some dresses in here. (turns to look through things)

Hardison: I'll go, too. I, uh, I got a white shirt. I can go wait staff.

(Parker takes off her shirt and Hardison looks the other way, turning the fake statue away from her as well)

hardison is a bashful lil respectful boy and we stan him for it

- - - - -

parker walking in in that amazing dress and everyone looking? good, it’s what she deserves (I’m gay)

- - - - -

Parker: Door's got a silent alarm. (to Sophie) You should hide. (to Hardison) We should pretend to make out.

Hardison: Make what?

(Parker grabs Hardison and they begin to kiss and she pushes the door open a little)

[Founder’s Reception]

(Nate and Eliot turn to look at the building as the sounds of making out come over the comms)

[Museum]

(Sophie goes around a corner out of sight)

Hardison: Let's talk about-- A little bit--

(Parker and Hardison continue to make out. Two guards approach and seem embarrassed. One clears his throat)

Guard: You, uh, bumped the door there. Sets the alarm off.

Hardison: You know what?

Parker: Oh.

Hardison: We, you know how it is.

Parker: Sorry.

(guards walk away and Sophie rejoins them)

Parker: Makeup. (takes makeup from Sophie) Come on. (goes through door)

Hardison: Can we talk about the pretending? That was nice.

(Sophie pushes him after Parker and returns to the party)

poor hardison’s heart must be beating wildly

- - - - -

Eliot: Which one of you did she kiss?

(Sophie sighs)

IMAGINE IF IT HAD GONE THE OTHER WAY THO

- - - - -

parker’s laser grid dodging skills are legendary + her delight when she stands up to see the first david !!!

also we stan a QUEEN who broke into a vault with only a glass of ice, a roll of aluminum foil, gum, and eyeshadow (and a fake makeout sesh)

- - - - -

Hardison: You did not just think about this on the way in from the van.

Parker: Some people do crosswords

- - - - -

Maggie: I-I just, I’m just trying to tell you that I still care.

Nate: No, I-I was –

Maggie: Care what happens to you, I mean. I've never stopped caring about you, Nate

maggie is such a genuinely good person and we love her for it

- - - - -

Parker: Ready?

(Hardison uses his phone to access remote system)

Parker: Come on, come on.

[Parking Lot]

(alarms begin to blare an all the cars)

[Security Control Room]

Guard 1: Hey, the vibration alarm just went off in the restoration room.

Guard 2: Wait. (points at monitor) Look. The car alarms all went off in the parking lot.

Guard 1: Little earthquakes.

Guard 2: Just another tremor.

that’s so smart tho???

- - - - -

Parker tosses the real David to Hardison who catches it)

Hardison: Wha-you-- Don't throw the David.

Parker: You caught it, didn't you?

Hardison: You're crazy

I would have had a HEART ATTACK

- - - - -

Maggie: Adam!

Eliot (turns): Uh, yeah?

(Eliot stops as Nate continues away)

Maggie: Let me give you my number.

Eliot: Great.

[Leverage HQ]

Eliot: I'm sorry your wife gave me her phone number.

Nate: Don't want to talk about it.

Eliot: I-It was only to coordinate where we were gonna go anyway.

Nate: Not talking about it.

hardison is enjoying it so much in the background dnjsjajsjsnnsnn

- - - - -

(Parker puts the statue on the table between them)

Parker: We just stole an $8 million statue on, like, our day off! (she shakes their shoulders happily)

SHES BABY

- - - - -

Pilot: Uh, work? W-what are you talking about?

Hardison: Spot inspection. FAA. Now, look, I want to see this plane's TCAS, VRSM, and 8.1 FM spacing in operation to make sure it's fully functional and in compliance with the new FAA regulations.

Pilot: New regulations?

(Hardison takes out a pen and writes on a clipboard)

Hardison: Pilot unaware of latest regulations.

Pilot: Oh, the new regulations. Of course. Please, come this way. I'll take you right up.

Hardison: Oh, no, no. It's cool, it's cool. I don't need to go up. Just taxi me around the building.

Pilot: Taxi? I thought you need to get up in the air.

Hardison (writes on clipboard): Uncomfortable with black authority figures.

Pilot: Sir, please don't write that.

Hardison: Oh, I will write a letter to your mama if I feel like it.

Pilot: This way, please. It's in order. I-I promise. This way. It's okay. (to copilot) FAA, he's a hard-ass.

(copilot tries to get bags)

Pilot: Screw the bags. Let's go!

this was really funny but also SUCH A GOOD WAY to con people

- - - - -

quinn’s hair did nothing for him in this episode. i said what i said.

- - - - -

(Sophie and Nate get into his car and leave while Quinn continues to take pictures from the open door of the hanger. Eliot walks up behind him)

Eliot: I'm gonna count to three.

(Quinn turns and hits Eliot hard, knocking him across the floor)

Eliot: Nate, we're blown. W—

Nate: Eliot, what’s--

(several feet away, Eliot’s earpiece is lying on the floor. Eliot tries to scramble away, but Quinn kicks him in the ribs, throwing him back, and kicks him several times more)

Quinn: That rib's broken.

(Eliot manages to get to his feet)

Quinn: He said you'd be tougher than this.

quinn: *is a really good fighter*

eliot: *surprised pikachu face*

ALSO the reason eliot was beat up so bad in the beginning was because he kept on trying to get back to his comm every chance he got INSTEAD of truly fighting back. his first priority was warning his team over his own personal safety and ugh we stan a man who cares about his family

- - - - -

,,, imagine you’re driving on a highway and see a chick jump off a bridge onto an armored car, pick its lock and then BREAK INTO said armored car ,,, wyd

- - - - -

poor hardison was ready to relax ,,, he got a soda and made himself some popcorn too

- - - - -

(Quinn and Eliot both stand hunched over, breathing hard)

Quinn: Why won't you go down?

(Eliot laughs, blood falling from his mouth to the floor. Quinn comes at him again, but Eliot catches him and knees him in the chest several times before pushing him away. Quinn falls to his hands and knees, gasping for air)

Eliot: Now that rib's broken.

(Eliot hits Quinn in the face hard, sending him to the floor. Holding his ribs, Eliot walks to the earpiece and puts it in)

payback is sweet

- - - - -

Sterling: Mr. Spencer?

(Quinn is still unconscious as Eliot walks out the hanger doors, breathing hard, limping and holding his ribs)

Eliot: Hey, Sterling. I got some dental work with your name on it. What do you say me and you hook up so I can give it to you?

- - - - -

Sophie: Sterling knows us. He knows how we think.

Nate: So we think like somebody else

THEY THINK LIKE THEIR KIDS

- - - - -

Nate: With a couple broken ribs and a concussion, I don't think Eliot can take out six guys.

(Eliot looks like he’d give it a try)

Nate: You know, but then I thought, "what would Hardison do?"

(Hardison looks at Nate in surprise)

(Eliot pulls out his phone and accesses the computer system, sending a high pitched whine into the comm. devices of the guards. They all bend over in pain. Eliot punches the one closest to him. Nate grabs Geary and slams his head down on the table. Hardison hits another guard in the face with his tied hands)

THAT MEANS ELIOT WAS ALSO THINKING LIKE HARDISON IF HE KNEW WHAT TO DO WITH THE PHONE AND WAS READY FOR IT

also YEET hardison is a badass but wbk

- - - - -

(Parker runs for Sophie. Sterling and his men run for Sophie and Parker. Parker reaches Sophie first and the dive from the roof, Sophie screaming and Parker laughing all the way down)

parker is the only character I’ve ever seen that can scream “yeehaw” and “yahoooooo” without it sounding ridiculous

- - - - -

(Eliot walks into the lobby, holding his ribs. He turns to yell over his shoulder)

Eliot: Hardison!

(Eliot follows Nate toward the door)

Hardison (breathing hard): Wait, Eliot. Eliot, come on.

(Eliot goes back inside)

Eliot: You've got to be kidding me, man.

(Eliot goes to help Hardison carry the painting out)

Hardison: Bring it out, come on.

Eliot: This is just weird.

Hardison: I painted this

okay so we all know that hardison actually hit a lot of cash in the painting but also, eliot actually goes back to help instead of just rolling his eyes and leaving hardison behind. eliot can get annoyed with him but he’d never leave him behind. not even on day one when hardison fell in the exploding building in the nigerian job. eliot was there for him then and he will be there for him for the rest of their lives.

ALSO I really hope eliot got his ribs checked out sometime soon after

- - - - -

Sterling: You're fired. Dust the whole place for fingerprints, okay? I want a forensic computer spec—

(the monitors come to life, showing Hardison’s face)

Hardison: Hey, Sterling. Get out of my house.

(display changes to a 30 second clock that begins to count down)

Sterling: Run. Run!

(all of the men run from the office, coming out onto the street)

Geary: Maybe he was bluffing.

(the entire floor of the building explodes, shooting fire)

Sterling: That's the funny thing about con men. They don't bluff.

- - - - -

the third “scattering scene” of the series

#leverage #leverage 1.12 #leverage 1x12 #the first david job #leverage season 1 #season 1 #notable moments #mine

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katehuntington · 4 years

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Title: Changes - part eleven Word count: ±3000 words Summary “Changes”: Huntress Zoë Sullivan (OFC) crosses paths and swords with the Winchesters, when the brothers stumble on a case she’s already working. When complications arise, they are forced to work together. Summary part eleven: The case is closed and the hunters go their separate ways, but not before having to deal with a few loose ends. Episode warnings: Dark! NSFW, 18+ only! Angst, gore, violence, character death. Description of blood, injury and medical procedures. Demon possession, supernatural creatures/entities. Smut, swearing, alcohol use/addiction. Kidnapping, mentions of torture and murder, illegal/criminal practices. Mentions of nightmares and flashbacks. Music: Purple Haze - Jimmi Hendrix, Highway To Hell - AC/DC. Author’s note: I’m super excited to share Supernatural: The Sullivan Series. There are quite a few people I want to thank: @coffee-obsessed-writer, @soupornatural & @mrswhozeewhatsis, who edited the early drafts, and my girls @girl-with-a-fandom-fettish and @winchest09 who are deciphering the recent version. Everyone who encouraged me to go for it, you are awesome!

Supernatural: The Sullivan Series Masterlist 01x01 “Changes” Masterlist

Flashing lights shimmer bright blue and red on the surroundings of the three hunters. They’re out in the open again, the moon and stars above them, the night air chilly. Dean leans against his Impala, while Zoë has made herself comfortable on the saddle of her bike, overlooking the scene. Police officers are clearing the area, some take notes of what the victims have to say. Before the authorities arrived, the hunters talked to the victims about what to tell the police. Their best advice was to keep quiet. People who start their statement with the word ‘shapeshifter’ usually end up in a psych ward. If they ever need to talk about what happened, they can call the brothers.

All the people have been pulled out of the septic tank by the fire department. An ambulance with Cole in the back is the first to leave the driveway, sirens blaring, while others are treated and prepared for their ride to hospital. Sam walks up to the other hunters and halts, watching the ambulance take off. “Cole is in critical condition, but the paramedic was hopeful. She said if we hadn’t found him, he wouldn’t have survived the night. The others are okay, besides from minor injuries and malnutrition,” he informs. “Good,” Dean says, satisfied. “And Terry Cliffer?” Zoë wonders. “Yeah, about Terry...” Sam shakes his head. “They found him, too.” “Dead?” she assumes. Sam nods and leans against the hood. The paramedics took care of the wound on his head, the injury is barely visible, covered by his long brown hair. “They found his body in the back of the tank.” Zoë sighs. “Damnit.” She glances over to the ambulance where Michelle Cliffer is sitting on a gurney, wrapped in a thermal blanket. She has her daughter and son by her side, comforting her children. Zoë wonders if she knows. The boys catch her gaze at the broken family. “You can’t save them all.”

It's Dean who reminds her of that, to Zoë’s surprise. She expected words of consolation from the younger Winchester, who’s shown her a lot more sympathy than his arrogant brother, until now, that is. She nods at the hunter, hearing his message, but unable to accept tonight’s outcome. Every time an innocent is killed by something she hunts, she feels like she failed. Even though they saved the others, not to mention the many victims that would have followed if they hadn't ended the shifter, Zoë cannot shake that feeling.

When she looks up at Michelle again, she sees that the woman is on her way over. It’s not hard to miss the widow’s grief. “Michelle...” Sam stammers, not sure what to say. She forces a polite smile and gives him a nod, but it's obvious she's torn up. Through the tears, she looks them in the eye one by one. “What you did… you have no idea what this means to me,” she says, her voice breaking. “Just doing our job, ma’am,” Dean responds, as if it’s no big deal.

“It’s so strange...” The poor woman shakes her head, still unable to grasp what happened. “I noticed that Terry was behaving differently about a month ago. I had no idea that--" “- it wasn’t your husband?” Sam fills in. She looks up at him, sniffles and nods. “He looked just like him. A few days ago, I started asking questions and… well, you know the rest.” She looks down, as if she’s trying to find her strength in the soil underneath her feet. Her bottom lip begins to quiver. “They just informed me about Terry.” “We're very sorry,” Sam returns, compassionately.

Michelle looks up, her piercing blue eyes seeking Dean, the man who rescued her and her children. “Thank you,” she says, soft but genuine. “Don’t thank me. Thank her,” he nods at Zoë. “She did most of the work.” Zoë looks up, stunned, not expecting the sudden attention. Her gaze shifts to the mother, who turns towards her, her eyes showing more gratitude than a thousand words could describe. “Thank you for rescuing our children.” she voices, gratefully, and turns to the boys as well. “You saved my family.”

With nothing left to say, she heads back for the ambulance, her little boy walking with her by the hand, but Lizzy lingers, still looking up at the female hunter. After pondering a little longer, the six year old runs towards the huntress and folds her little arms around Zoë’s leg, giving her a hug before heading back to her mother. A small smile pulls at the corner of her mouth as Zoë watches the little girl go. Lizzy waves at her until the doors of the ambulance close, answered by a final salute from the company of three. A breath floats from her lips, the weight on her shoulders made lighter by the young girl, who made it all worthwhile.

“Dude, you smell like a toilet,” Dean comments out of nowhere. He sniffs while making a face, eying his brother, who is still standing next to him. “You wanna tell me you smell like roses?” Sam returns. Dean stares back, puzzled. “What are you--“ Sam grabs Dean’s leather coat and pulls it up, showing the dirt and feces stuck to it. “Ah, shit,” Dean curses. Zoë grins. “Indeed.” Sam can’t help but smirk when Dean pulls himself loose, annoyed. Then he glares at Zoë. “You totally fucked up my favorite jacket,” he gripes, pissed off. “Gonna cry about it?” she pouts at him. He gives her a dirty look and narrows his eyes, but Zoë doesn’t let him off the hook just yet. “You’re lucky you didn’t fuck up my Dave,” she warns. “Next time you have the nerve to get on my bike, I’ll kill you.” “You have such a warm and loving personality, know that?” Dean snarls, sarcastically.

“Talking about warm and loving, you said something about ‘me being all over you’?” she brings up, curious. “You jumped me, and not in a violent kind of way,” he reveals, scratching the back of his head, a little embarrassed. “How did you find out it wasn’t me?” Zoë wonders. “Simple; there was no trace of that bullet wound,” he explains, nodding at her abdomen. “Ah, so clothes were off; you did play ball.” She grins, crossing her arms and leaning back a little. “How far did you make it, exactly? First base? Second base?”

Sam snorts, watching the interaction between the two hunters. He didn’t expect a blush to turn the tips of Dean’s ears pink, however. “Oh, whoa!” she realizes. “You got to third base.” “Dude, you had sex with a shapeshifter?” Sam smirks. “Dude, no! C’mon!” Dean defends. Zoë grins, amused. His denial was a little too fast and too loud. For a ‘professional’ con artist, he’s a pretty bad liar. “Did shifter-me give you a hand or was it the other way around?” “I - that’s not…” Dean stutters, only digging himself deeper. “You know what? I don’t have to answer to you.” She huffs. “Well, since you thought you were having sex with me, I think you kinda do.” “I didn’t have sex with you, or fake-you,” he makes clear, correcting himself while looking confused. “Look, I know what I was doing. I shot the fucker and saved your ass, so I think I deserve some credit.”

But Zoë doesn’t plan to stop. “You’re into me,” she provokes. “You’re so full of shit,” Dean scoffs. “You might come in a pretty package, sweetheart, but you are as sour as they come.” She laughs at the insult and slides her helmet over her head, securing the chinstrap. “I have zero intention to become your friend, Dean, and that was your first clue. When that shifter came on so strong, you should’ve known you were either having a wet dream, or the ‘pretty package’ wasn’t actually this sour bitch.”

The huntress starts the engine of her Harley before the guy she’s been butting heads with can counter. She doesn’t take off however; she’s not done yet. “Oh, by the way, did you know that shapeshifters aren’t sexless?” “Of course I knew that,” Dean utters. “So?” “Well, Sammy there saw the shifter shed and he was pretty sure it wasn’t female. So whatever you did, you didn’t do it with the opposite sex.” Zoë leaves the rest for the older Winchester brother to figure out, and to her amusement, it doesn’t take long before it settles in what she’s implying. When she sees the horror and bewilderment in his eyes, she has to pull every string to not break character. “Bye, boys!”

She turns the throttle and steers her bike towards the road. Sam has the feeling he’s experiencing déjà vu. Last night, they were standing in the exact same spot, Zoë driving off on her Harley Davidson, Dean staring at her in awe. The younger Winchester tries his best not to burst into laughter, but has difficulty keeping a straight face. He decides to play along with Zoë’s little mind game. “Is she actually saying that I...?” Dean stammers, eyeing his brother, unsettled. Sam nods. “Did you really see…?” Sam nods. Nauseated Dean looks away, realizing what this means. “I’m gonna throw up.”

Disoriented, he circles the car and slips into his seat a moment later. In shock he stares at the emblem in the center of the steering wheel; his whole life has been a lie. Purple Haze by Jimi Hendrix starts playing when the driver turns the key in the ignition. As if he didn’t feel dirty enough, the thought of the shapeshifter driving his beloved Impala only adds to his discomfort. Oh well, at least the bastard didn’t screw with his mixtape.

Beams of yellow glide through the car rhythmically, fading in and out every time they pass a street light. The V8 under the hood roars steady, already radiating warmth into the cabin as they are about to drive into the city of Rochester. Dean has turned the heat on, aware that Sam had been stuck underground for hours; he figured his little brother might be cold. The gash on his head didn’t look too bad, looks like he got away with nothing but a scratch. “So, what’s our plan for the rest of the night?” Dean asks him, actually checking if Sam wants to hit the road or call it a night. Sam chuckles, assuming he has other intentions with that question. “Considering you have a date with Vicodin girl?” For the second time this evening, Dean experiences a sudden and overwhelming pressure on his chest as he hits the brakes, almost causing the car behind him to crash into his bumper. The driver honks madly and swerves around when the Chevrolet pulls over. “Dude!” Sam exclaims, startled. He doesn’t answer. When they have come to a full stop, Dean glances at his watch instead; it’s 9:15. Frustrated he slams the steering wheel. “Fuck!” “What’s your problem?” Sam returns, stunned. “That’s my problem.” He nods at his rear view mirror.

It’s just now that Sam notices the sirens behind them. He quickly looks over his shoulder and curses, but is surprised to see the police cars pass them. “It’s not even for us, Dean. Would you relax?” Sam doesn’t understand all the fuss. “Oh, it’s for us, alright,” Dean mutters, nodding at the first responders, who make a sharp right to 6th St Southwest, joined by another vehicle from the other direction. “That’s - that’s where our hotel is,” the younger of the two realizes. The driver rubs his face. “I didn’t bolt the door.” With eyes wide open, Sam stares at his brother. “What?!” “I was in a bit of a hurry,” Dean excuses. “I think Vicodin girl walked in on a dead shapeshifter.” “Please tell me you covered our tracks,” his brother pleads. “I didn’t have time for that, Sam! For all I knew I could have been working on a fucking time schedule here! I didn’t know where you were, if you were alive!” he explains, frantically. “Okay, just chill out. You did take our stuff with you, right?” Sam supposes. “Let me think. Who had the car again!?” Dean returns. “You left my laptop in the room?!” Sam exclaims, freaking out. “All our documents, our records, everything is on that computer!” “I wasn’t thinking straight, okay?! I thought you were dead!” Dean shouts back. “At least tell me you brought Dad’s journal,” Sam asserts. He doesn’t need an answer; when he watches Dean’s expression go blank, he knows enough. “Dean, you didn’t,” Sam sighs and runs his hands through his hair frustrated. “We need to get back in there,” Dean states, determined. “Are you nuts? There are cops all over that place!” Sam reminds him. “Everything we know, everything Dad knows, is in that journal. Names, addresses, phone numbers, you have any idea how many people are gonna get in trouble if that book falls into the wrong hands?!” Sam sums up, his voice raised.

Before Sam can continue the argument, Dean’s Rock N’ Roll ringtone cuts through the tension. Irritated, he rummages around in his pocket and takes out his phone. He checks the display before he picks up; he doesn’t know the number. “Hello?” “Hey, Birdbrain.” He recognizes that voice, even though the sounds in the background are so loud that he has difficulty understanding her. He rolls his eyes skyward. “Zo, not now. I have a little bit of a situation here.” “You mean that you left everything you own except for that damn car of yours in the Deep Purple Inn, which just got stormed by the cops?”

Dean stares at the road ahead, flabbergasted. “How the fuck do you know that?” “Because I was just there.” “You were there?” he repeats stunned. Frowning, Sam looks over at his brother, trying to make out what Zoë is saying. “That lizard took my Macbook and my phone up to your room, I had to get it back. Nice job tidying up the place, by the way.” “I was a little busy saving everyone’s ass!” Dean returns. “I went through a hell of a lot of trouble to get your things, but I’ll be happy to dump them alongside the road somewhere if you don’t drop that attitude. Do you want your shit back or not?”

Silence. Dean curses under his breath, turning the speaker away from his mouth so that the huntress doesn’t pick up on it. He absolutely despises it when he’s forced to take a knee. “Yes,” he growls, grinding his teeth while pronouncing the simple three letter word. “I’m gonna make sure I’m out of the state before I pull over, considering shapeshifter-me shot up an entire bar and I just entered the crime scene of my own murder. I advise you to do the same thing.” “Copy that,” Dean agrees. “And our stuff?” “You’ve got my number. Give me a call in a few days.” “Can’t we just meet up somewhere in Iowa?” he proposes. “No can do, I’m heading to Arkansas for a haunting. Not sure how long that’s gonna take. Leave the state, lay low and call me in a few days, got that?” Dean sighs, rolling his eyes. Seems like he doesn’t have a choice. “Got it.” “Oh, and for the sake of public health, when you cross the state border, take a shower at the first truck stop.” With those words, she disconnects. Dean looks down at the phone and scoffs. Un-fucking-believable. “She has our stuff?” Sam has been staring at him all this time, it’s just now that Dean looks him in the eye. “Unfortunately,” Dean confirms and looks in the rear view mirror, before he turns back on the road and hits the gas.

They pass 6th Street Southwest, which is swarming with police. Sam straightens his back, glad that they don’t have to deal with it. He just hopes this isn’t going to come back and bite Dean in the ass later. “That’s murder number two on your police record,” Sam comments. “You sound like Dad,” the older brother mutters. “No, I don’t,” Sam argues. The corner of Dean’s mouth pulls up. “You’d be surprised how much you’re like the old man,” he remarks. Sam changes the subject. “So, what’s our plan?” Dean shrugs, his right hand on the wheel, his left hand in his lap, unburdening his hurting shoulder. He doesn’t take his eyes from the road as he drives south, down highway 63. “According to Sullivan, we should lay low for a few days.” “Sounds fine to me,” Sam agrees. “Where are we going next?” “Arkansas,” Dean announces. The younger Winchester glances aside at his brother. “Why Arkansas?” Dean returns a smug grin. Sam knows that look, he has seen it way too many times. “You’re gonna follow her, aren’t you?” he presumes. “You actually think I’m gonna wait until she has some spare time in her agenda?” Dean chuckles.

It’s not often, but Sam actually agrees with him. They have better things to do, like finding Dad and hunting down the bastard that killed Mom and his girlfriend; he’s going to need the journal and his laptop for that. “Arkansas it is then.” Dean turns up the volume when the first tunes from Cliff Williams’ guitar comes through the speakers. Putting the pedal to the metal, he joins in with the drums and he can’t help but nod his head slightly on the beat. Bon Scott’s peculiar scratchy voice belts out the first verse and the driver gladly joins him. He doesn’t care that his brother shakes his head disapprovingly. There’s just no way he can let AC/DC’s Highway To Hell go by without singing along.

No stop signs, speed limit Nobody's gonna slow me down Like a wheel, gonna spin it Nobody's gonna mess me 'round

Hey Satan, payin' my dues Playin' in a rockin' band Hey momma, look at me I'm on my way to the Promised Land

I'm on the highway to hell Highway to hell I'm on the highway to hell Highway to hell

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to like or reblog my work, shoot me a message or buy me coffee (Link to Kofi in bio at the top of the page).

Start on episode two here

The Sullivan Series tags: @a-gir1-has-n0-name @destielhoneybee @fookinghelljensensthighs @laphirablack @magssteenkamp

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