#why is she always seen holding a beer or being drunk?

[thetriplets3]

When you're about to cry and he does that "hey, hey" thing

please do this with chris

❝𝐧𝐨 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬❞

chris and i have been together for almost 4 months now having met at a small get together of a mutual friend, which when it comes to them a small get together turns into a party.

-flashback-

i had wandered off starting to feel overwhelmed from the constant talking around me. soon enough i found myself in a room that was turned into a makeshift music studio. the room felt inviting and safe for me to hid in for a while. any open space that wasn’t cover with furniture of some kind was filled with more plants than i could name. the warm soft light beckoned me to make myself comfortable, choosing a bean bag nestled in the corner for an extra sense of security. i curled into myself getting comfy figuring it’d be a while till my friend wanted to go home since i went with her. shutting my eyes i listened to the soft sound of the music playing from the other side of the house. the sound of the mini fridge closing startled me, snapping me back to reality.

“oh shit my bad i didn’t think anyone would be here sorry if i scare you. i was just grabbing a pepsi and was hang out here for a bit but i can go if you wanna be alone i mean you came up here for a reason”

“no no you’re good you can stay i just needed to get away from the crowd it was too much for me. so much for a small get together i should have expected this”

“i get that that’s why i came up here. want a drink? there’s pepsi, root beer, water or iced tea?”

“iced tea please”

he grabbed my drink and made himself comfortable on the adjacent bean bag and didn’t hesitate to ask if i was okay and if i needed anything having heard me mention the party was getting too much for me. i had just met him and he wanted to make sure i was okay, something about that just warmed my heart how concerned he was. we began talking about how we knew the host and the more we talked the more we realized how much we had in common. i’m usually wary of men joining me if i’m alone at a party, you can’t trust everyone most of the time they’re drunk or have some weird intention, but something about chris just made me feel automatically safe. before i knew it it was 4 hours later my friend came in the room outta breath complaining how she’d looked everywhere for me and that she’s ready to go home. not wanting to keep her waiting any longer but also not wanting to leave chris, i begrudgingly get up from my comfy spot.

“i’m sorry i’ve gotta go she’s my ride. thanks for keeping me company i really liked talking to you”

“me too. would i be able to get your number? i’d love to see you again if that’s not too forward”

-5 months later-

safe to say i gave him my number. when we first started dating we both opened up about being hesitant of relationships seeing as it’s my first one and he’d been hurt before, the whole idea of dating was unfamiliar to us but we worked through it and i think getting all of our worries and insecurities out really strengthen our relationship.

despite bring together for a few months he’s yet to see me cry which i know isn’t a big deal but that’s just who i am. i’m a sensitive person but i hold it in and break when i’m alone. i was always a very emotional empathetic child the slightest thing made me cry whether it be sad or happy tears. constantly being told “stop crying” or “you’re crying over that?” really got to me now i try and keep my emotions in.

sure chris has seen me get upset or worked up about something so silly. one time i was putting the dishes away and could hardly reach the mug shelf but nonetheless i tried putting a mug in a spot that looked like it’d fit and pushed it a little too hard knocking the mug i made for chris when i did a pottery class on a friends birthday. the mug was coming straight towards i tried catching it but couldn’t and it landed on the ground with a loud smash. tears instantly pricked my eyes seeing the cup i was so proud of smashed to pieces.

third person

chris was playing video games in the living room with his headset on, one ear slightly uncovered so he could listen to you softly sing to your music finding comfort in your voice and presence. a shattering sound followed by your silence had him ripping his headset off and running to the kitchen to see you with the saddest frown on your face and your breathing picking up. rushing over to you he kicks the remnants of the mug out of the way.

-your pov-

“what happened? are you okay? are you hurt? did you step on any pieces?” his voice filled with concern as his eyes dart across my face for any signs of hurt.

“your mug. i broke your mug” my voice so quiet it’s barely audible but the cracks in it indicating in close to tears.

“oh baby it’s okay it’s just a mug i can get another one as long as you’re okay i’m not concerned about the mug. are you okay?” he says lifting my chin drawing my attention to him instead of the tragedy on the floor.

“but it’s the mug i made you your favorite mug and i just smashed it to pieces i’m sorry i shouldn’t have tried reaching when i knew i couldn’t. i broke your mug” i spew out apologies as tears start escaping my eyes.

“hey hey no tears baby. look at me forget about the mug for a sec i care more about you right now, are you okay?” he says cupping my cheeks as his thumbs rub across my cheeks in a soothing manner, wiping away tears as they fell.

“yes i’m okay”

“good i’m glad” he says as he lifts me onto the counter away from the shards and stands between my legs. “i’m not upset about the mug baby. yes it was my favorite mug but only because i know you made it and i loved how excited you were that you made a mug on your first try making pottery. it melted my heart that you could have made anything and you immediately thought to make something for me. it was the thought and love that went into the mug that made me love it. things are replaceable no need to get upset i’m glad you didn’t get hurt. i appreciate you putting the dishes away you didn’t have to do that”

“you had a busy week i just wanted you to relax and not have to deal with the dishes but then i made a whole scene and- and i- your mug” my voice falters, eyes still watery.

“nope don’t wanna hear it pretty girl i’m not upset or mad don’t worry about it okay. i’ll clean it up. how about for our next date we do pottery huh how’s that sound? then i can make you something too i have ideas already”

“i love you thank you for being so gentle with me and my silly feelings”

“i’d never get upset or over something like this or anything really. it’s not silly for you to be upset over this i know you were proud of it you’re allowed to be sad. i love you and i think it’s beautiful that you have the capacity to feel things so deeply” he wraps his arms around body one arm holding my head to his chest as he plants kisses to my hair.

i love the way he loves me

taglist: @antisocialties @iluvmatt @dwntwn-strnlo @fake-coolbeans @opheliaofficial07 @angelcake-222 @oneirophobic @strniolo @lollibumblebee @ssturniolo @20nugs @strniolo @abbie13sworld @luvsturniolo

#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader

[sweetandgentlecreature]

Can I request a jealous or possessive Sy, thanks!

Hey girl!! Of course! Why not a little bit of both, while we’re at it? I have a lot of thoughts about Sy being the jealous type, and his possessiveness goes hand in hand with that. Thanks for all the sweet comments you leave me, I really do appreciate them all! ❤️❤️

It’s the Little Things: Jealous!Sy Drabble

Warnings: grumpy-bear energy, navigating jealously and possessiveness in an established relationship, with a little something sweet (ha! Fic jokes) at the end

Sy is not a perfect man. He's been through all of the training, all of the boot camps and exercises, two tours and everything in between. None of it could have prepared him for life outside of the job. You've never asked him for perfection, and why would you? After all the shit he's done, everything he's seen, you were glad to have him this way. Flaws and all. It sure beats the alternative. He could've come back an emotionless robot-type, or worse. Not at all.

Nights like tonight make you thankful to have him back. The bar is crowded, almost shoulder-to-shoulder, but that's pretty normal for small town nightlife. When the beer's this cheap, you get used to it.

He watches you from his seat in the corner booth, basking in the glow of the neon lights and twirling a bottle cap between his fingers. His buddies are piss-drunk, talking over the noise of the crowd."Man, did you see that blonde with the tits? Could that skirt get any shorter?" "How could I miss her? One stiff breeze and that'd be all she wrote."

Sy never understood it. Why get married to someone if all you want is what you can't have? Their poor wives deserved better. He'd scoff and just shake his head, then flick the bottle cap their way to shut them up.

About that time, you'd make your way through the crowd to take a break from the dance floor. Relieved to have your presence as distraction from the current conversation, he welcomes you with open arms and sits you on his knee.

"Havin' fun?"

You smile and nod eagerly. "Yeah. The girls went to the restroom, so I'm taking a break." When you notice that the bucket of beer is empty, you stand again. He tries to protest, to pull you back down onto his lap, but you brush him away. "No, babe, you stay. I'll go grab us another bucket and I'll be right back."

Sy digs his wallet out of his back pocket and hands it off without protest. Drinks are always on him. He hates to see you go, but good lord, does he love to watch you leave. Things are good...until they aren't.

All it takes is for one drunk bastard to spoil the mood. You're standing at the bar, waiting on your drinks, when a harsh smack on your ass gets your attention. It takes you by surprise and you whip your head around, ready to scold your bear of a man for being so crass. A stranger meets your gaze and grins down at you maliciously, drawing you in against his chest. His grip is iron-tight, but before you can speak, he's gone.

Bottles crash to the floor. The crowd circles the commotion and you fight your way though to get to the source. Sy's got him pinned against the bar as he wails on him, each bunch landing with a sickly crunch on the drunk guy's face. You try to scream over the crowd to get his attention, but it takes Sy's friends and the bouncer to pull him away. It's safe to say that you're no longer welcome in that bar, but good riddance. You wouldn't want to go back anyway.

Sy trembles with rage. His eyes are dark, his knuckles are split and bleeding, but he's otherwise alright. He'd seen it all from across the bar. That poor bastard didn't stand a chance. When he sees you now, he grabs you up in both hands and holds you out to look you over for injuries. He didn't mean to start a riot, but when it comes to his woman, Clayton Syverson doesn't mess around.

"Fuck, baby, are you alright? C'mere, let me look 'atcha," he scrambles over himself, searching you for signs of distress. When he meets your eyes again, he relaxes a bit. You're not hurt, but you sure are pissed.

"What where you thinking?! He could've hurt you! What if he had a knife, or a gun?! You're not bulletproof, you know!" Taking his fist in your hands, you hold it gently and brush your thumb over his knuckles. Nothing's broken, but it'll be sore for a while. Sighing, you shake your head at him. "Come on. Let's go home."

The next morning, he's up making breakfast. His hand is wrapped, thanks to your doing, and he pops a chocolate chip into his mouth as he flips another pancake on the skillet. You slip in behind him and wrap your arms around his waist. You kiss him on the shoulder, running your hands along his chest as you hold him close. It's quite the juxtaposition to the events of last night, but you don't mind. It'll be one hell of a story to tell the grandkids someday. "How's the hand?"

Sy holds it out and flexes his fingers, wincing a bit at the twinge of pain. Sure, maybe he's not bulletproof, but he'd do it all over again to protect his girl. That, and the sex afterwards was pretty damn great.

#request #henry cavill #captain syverson fluff #captain syverson fanfiction #captain syverson smut #captain syverson fic #captain syverson #syverson fanfiction #syverson x reader #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fic #henry cavill smut

[cloudy-em]

The Deal - Lip Gallagher x Fem!Reader

To be honest, I don’t know why it started. I made a deal with Y/N that if she pretended to be my girlfriend so I could avoid Andrea, then I’d do whatever she wanted for a day. It was stupid. I didn’t even like Andrea. We had sex at a party one time and suddenly she was following me everywhere. Of all the people I could’ve asked to fake date me, I don’t know why I asked Y/N. Some neo-freudians can claim that it was my subconscious trying to manifest my hidden urges into real life, or a neuroscientist can claim that I’m not a genius and that I’m actually stupid. I’d definitely agree with both perspectives. 

At first I was shocked that Y/N even agreed. We’re close friends, sure, but it was definitely a higher-stakes ask. When she said yes, I felt a bubbling excitement, but I wrote it off as excitement that I could finally get Andrea to leave me the fuck alone. 

It started slow. We’d hold hands at school, skip class to smoke together. Nothing out of the ordinary for us. Usually, I’d hold her hand in the busy hallways to ensure she wouldn’t get pushed around, and we always shared our cigarette and weed stashes with each other. That was phase one. 

Phase two consisted of being seen alone together in public. I’d saved up some money from doing other kids’ homework, so I’d start taking Y/N out on dates. Not under the L or to the Alibi where we could get free beer, but actual dates where people would see us. Little diners nearby, nothing to expensive. We’d go after school most Fridays and get fries or milkshakes to share. Pretty soon, rumors were spreading that Lip Gallagher was no longer available for a quick fuck because he was dating Y/N L/N. 

Phase three was the phase I figured would keep Andrea away for sure. Y/N and I would leave classes and pretend to fuck in janitor’s closets and bathrooms, locking ourselves in and fake moaning, trying not to laugh at each other over how stupid it all seemed. She’d started sleeping over in my room as a “just in case”, and it worked out for both of us. If Andrea was ever walking by the house, she’d see us walking in or out together or in the windows. It worked for her because she got to avoid her home life. We’d share cigarettes curled up in the top bunk together, laughing over how we’d gotten $50 each from one kid’s tutoring session. Andrea didn’t stand down. 

Phase four was the last and final phase that Carl, Ian, and I had planned to keep Andrea away. Y/N and I would go to a party, drink a lot, get a little handsy, and head back home together. Andrea was a party girl for sure, and there’s no way she’d miss one, which made it easy for Y/N and I to execute the finale of the operation. Ryan Bodero was hosting a big party, and Y/N and I thought it would be a good one to finalize our mission. We arrived fashionably late (we smoked a joint together to help us get through the evening) and the party was in full swing. Drunk students everywhere, clouds of smoke, loud music, and enough alcohol to be a full-service bar. I squeezed Y/N’s hand, guiding her through the crowd. She let go of my hand to hold onto my bicep as she stood on her tip-toes to whisper in my ear. 

“Andrea’s over there, by the bar, you wanna get a drink?” she pulled away and smirked. I nodded at her before rejoining are hands and heading over to the “bar”. We stood right next to Andrea. Perfect. 

“Alright, baby, what do you want? I’ll make it for you,” I was playing the role of good boyfriend probably louder than I needed to, but whatever it took. Y/N giggled, twirling her hair and pretending to think. “Hmm, what about a vodka cranberry?” she requested. Of course, after being friends for years, I knew that’s what she wanted. I nodded and kissed her forehead before moving over down the counter to mix her drink. I’d never kissed her forehead before. The only PDA we exhibited were hugs and handholding, but it felt natural to place a kiss there, like I was keeping her safe while I was away. After everything she’s been through, it’s what she deserves. I’m supposed to be her loving boyfriend, afterall. 

I finish her drink and bring it over to her, a beer in my other hand for me. She takes her drink and takes a sip, knowing before she even tasted it I made it how she likes it. She smiled at me, wrapping one arm around my neck in a brief hug and pulling away. It was too soon. “Thanks, honey! I’m gonna go talk to Laila real quick and then I’ll be back!” I watched her walk away, smiling even after she left and leaned up against the counter, looking around the room. When I turned to my right, Andrea was suddenly there. 

“So, you and Y/N, huh?” she asked. Thank god, she’s finally accepting that I don’t like her, and she’ll move on. “Yeah,” I sighed. “Best thing that ever happened to me!” I laughed. “Ha, well, I don’t think you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to her,” Andrea says. I’m confused, and she can see it on my face, so she grabs my chin and turns my face to where she’s looking. Y/N and Ryan Bodero are talking, a bit too close for comfort, and his hands are on her hips. Only, she doesn’t seem to want them there. I feel my blood boil, ripping my face from Andrea’s grip. 

“Hey, asshole!” I say, walking towards Ryan. “That’s my girl, didn’t you know?” Ryan rolls his eyes and laughs, “No, but I don’t think she cares.” He pulls her closer for emphasis, but she tries to pull away, an uncomfortable look on her face. “Let me go,” she says to him before looking at me, practically begging me to do something. 

“Alright look, Ryan, I get that you have no respect for women, but let me teach you something. When a lady says no, you respect her,” I tell him, smashing my beer bottle on the side of his head. He lets her go and stumbles backwards, but comes back for me. We throw a few punches back and forth. My knuckles are hot, but I barely notice the pain. He can’t treat Y/N like that. I won’t allow it. He gets me in the eye, and I’m sent backwards. I go to lurch forward again, but Y/N touches my bicep. 

“Lip, you’re hurt, let’s go please,” she says. I nod at her, seeing her concern, but I turn to Ryan. “This isn’t over.” Ryan turns back to his friends as Y/N and I walk away. I hear her mutter, “yes, it is over.”

It’s a short walk back to my place, Y/N still clung to my arm, quiet but worried. When we walk inside, she tells me to go sit in the kitchen. I do. She grabs ice and some towels to clean up the blood and put ice on my eye to keep the swelling down. I’m sitting in the chair, and she’s standing in front of me, one of the few times she’s ever taller than me. I can’t help but stare up at her, but she doesn’t meet my gaze, too focused on cleaning the blood from my lip and nose. 

“Lip,” she starts. “You can’t just start fights like that. Someone could call the cops or maybe he’ll press charges! You can’t afford to go to jail.” 

“I know, baby,” the nickname rolling off my tongue like second nature and I barely notice her shoulders tense. “But he wasn’t respecting you, and he needed to be taught a lesson.” 

“No, he didn’t-” she starts to argue. “Dammit, you’re my girlfriend and I love you! Let me look out for you, please!” I’m slightly exasperated, not even realizing my confession. She’s shocked, lips parted like she wants to say something but can’t. I sigh, slouching in the chair, defeated. 

“Look, I know that wasn’t the deal. You didn’t sign up for a real relationship. But we’ve been friends for years and I’ve had a crush on you but I kept trying to get over it because I didn’t wanna fuck things up and here I am fucking things up but the more we fake dated, the more it felt real and I know in reality you’re single and you can do what you want but seeing my girlfriend being harassed by some asshole just made me so mad and I just lost it. I’m sorry.” I don’t usually talk about my feelings. I don’t even remember the last time I talked about my feelings. But I needed her to know that it wasn’t a spur of the moment thing, that I wasn’t just lonely. That I really cared for her. I closed my eyes, preparing for the worst. 

I feel her run her fingers through my hair, her rings gently tugging on the strands. 

“You’re right, baby,” she says softly. I look up at her, and we make eye contact for the first time since we walked through the door. “You’re my boyfriend. I should let you look out for me, just like you should let me look out for you. We’re in this together, right?” I nod, at a loss for words, still processing. I wrap my arms around her, my head hitting just below her breasts as I hold her tightly, her fingers still moving through my hair. 

“What do you say we forget this whole deal and we just date like we’re supposed to?” 

We both liked that idea.

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thank you so much for reading!!

requests are open, so send me a message if you have any ideas or if you'd like to join one of my taglists!

#fanfic #writing #shameless #lip gallagher #lip gallagher x reader #fiona gallagher #svetlana yevgenivna #mandy milkovich #ian gallagher #carl gallagher #liam gallagher #gallavich #x reader #reader insert #female reader #one shot #fluff #angst #jeremy allen white

[prettykittycastle]

love your writing! can you do something where the reader and dean are sharing their sex experiences and she tells him that she’s never squirted before and he makes her? & them being friends with like a lotttt of flirting and sexual tension

Alright

Summary: Dean offers to make the reader squirt for the first time.

(The reader is AFAB and uses she/her pronouns. The ethnicity/race is any.)

(Content Warning: Fingering, slight dirty talk, multiple orgasms, slight choking, squirting, overstimulation)

It was pushing midnight and me and Dean were still going hard, drinking and laughing our asses off about a multitude of things. He was drinking his usual whiskey while I chose to stick to a nice, cold beer. Sam had already decided to call it a night early and went to bed the second we came from our case. Surprisingly, the case we worked was actually pretty easy to figure out, the only problem was actually fighting and killing the monster. It took a lot of effort but we were able to do it with minimal injuries. Me and Dean decided that such an easy case should be rewarded with a peaceful night of drinking and laughing.

"I didn't mean to. I had no control over it," Dean defended himself, laughing along with me at his story.

The conversation had somehow switched to the topic of embarrassing sex stories.

"I was cumming every where and it just landed wherever. I didn't mean to cum in her eyes or her nose."

"Oh my god, Dean. That's horrible!" I told him, can't help laughing harder.

"If I'm horrible, then so is she. She once squirted in my face and it landed in my eye."

I couldn't hold back the next wave of laughter that came from my throat and I had to place my beer bottle on the bunker table before I accidentally waste it.

"So what about you?" He asked, taking a sip of his whiskey.

"What about me?"

"Squirted in a guy's eye? Something else?"

"Oh, never," I chuckled, shaking my head. "I've never squirted before."

Once I felt that my laughter has simmered down, I picked up my bottle and and was about to drink when I noticed the look upon Dean's face and his silence.

"What?"

"You've never squirted? Ever?"

I shook my head and sipped my beer.

"Why not?"

"I don't know. It's just never happened. I don't know if I can."

"Lots of women don't know until they get with someone who can fuck them good enough," he stated, downing the rest of his whiskey, looking at me with a look that I've never seen on him before.

Me and Dean tended to sometimes have our moments of not knowing whether or not we would be good together but we would always sort of ignore it and pretend it never happened. Don't ruin a good friendship, is what I always tell myself. The look in Dean's eyes is making me think that perhaps it might be worth trying to experiment with him just to see.

Clearing my throat, I try to ignore the tingling in my core that his look is giving me. "Well, I guess I haven't found that person yet." I took my bottle and drunk the last of my beer, feeling my body getting hotter and hotter, the longer he looked at me.

"If you want, I could see if I can make you... Just to see if you can."

Oh fuck. He wants to make me squirt. Just the thought of it is making me soak my panties.

I was about to open my mouth and tell him yes when he suddenly stood up from his chair and took a few steps to stand in front of me, his clothed crotch being right at eye level with me. Even through the thick jeans, he was wearing, I could see the growing bulge of his dick and I so badly wanted to-

"(Y/N)," he said and I looked up at him to see the look on his face become even more intense.

I stood up, my head stopping at his chest, and decided to say fuck it and grabbed his flannel, pulling him down to my lips. Surprisingly his lips were extremely soft and they tasted like the whiskey he was drinking, but the way he kissed me was something out of this world. The way he moved his lips against mine made the tingling inside me quickly grow to a small burning and I could feel my panties getting more soaked.

Pulling away from my lips, he lightly wrapped his hand around my neck and I looked up at him to see that the usual happy green eyes of his were now full of pent-up hunger. "Get on the table, sweetheart," he ordered, his voice deeper.

"But, Dean, we-" I was cut off by the feel of his hand giving me a light squeeze, making me gasp.

"Get on the table, now," He demanded and this time, I didn't hesitate to do as he said.

Still holding my neck, he began kissing me again, moaning against my lips.

"Dean, Sam could wake up-" I tried to say, pulling away.

"Then let him see." He continued kissing me, slipping his tongue into my mouth. I could feel one of his hands unbuttoning my pants and unzipping them, before I felt the tips of his fingers dip into them, under my panties and to my center.

"D-Dean," I moaned into him, feeling him lightly rubbing my clit.

"You're so fucking wet," he groaned, rubbing me faster.

He placed one last kiss on my lips before taking his hand off my neck and moving it down to my pants. Still rubbing my clit, he used his other hand to pull my pants down, the hunger he had was evident in his hurry-ness to take them off. When the pants were at my knees, I helped him out by kicking them the rest of the way off. I couldn't help but feel a sense of pride in knowing that he was this horny for me.

"Fuck, (Y/N)," I heard him groan. "You really are soaked."

I looked down to see the crotch of my panties was almost soaked through by my wetness. Any other time I would have been embarrassed about it, but not tonight. Tonight, all I’m thinking about is Dean’s face between my legs.

"It's all for me, sweetheart," he asked, grabbing the edge of my panties and yanking them down my legs.

"Yeah," I told him, kicking the panties off my ankles and to the floor. "I wanna squirt for you, Dean."

My words did the trick for him and he quickly dropped to his knees and moved his fingers from my clit and replaced them with his tongue.

"Oh," I moaned loudly. He didn't waste time and quickly began circling my clit with the tip of his tongue while he inserted a finger into me, my walls gladly sucking it in.

"Fuck, your pussy's tight," He told me before sucking my clit into his mouth and thrusting his finger in and out of me.

"Oh God, Dean," I moaned, looking down at him. His hungry eyes looked up at me as he moaned and sucked on my clit, the vibrations making the burning inside me grow. I could see my juices running down his hand and leak onto the table.

Shit, I'm close, I thought, feeling the burning in me getting hotter fast. Letting out another moan, I reached down and grabbed the back of his head and pushed his face into me, grinding onto him and feeling his finger go deeper into me.

"Yes, yes, yes," I whimpered, grinding harder on his face.

I suddenly felt another finger squeezing into me, and he thrusted both of them faster into me. I could feel his finger tips curling inside me, hitting that special spot inside of me that made my eyes roll back.

“Oh fuck, Dean. I’m gonna cum,” I moaned, the burning getting hotter with each thrust.

“Cum, babygirl,” he said against my clit, and again, I followed his demand and came. While my body was rocked with waves of pleasure, Dean kept thrusting his fingers into me, his fingertips hitting my G-spot over and over, and I could feel the small stinging of overstimulation beginning.

“Dean,” I whimpered, trying to close my legs, but he kept his fingers in me. He suddenly stood up and wrapped his hand around my neck again, squeezing it slightly. The feel of his strong hand squeezing me made the fire that’s started in my body burn harder and almost too much for me.

“Dean, please,” I pleaded with him, not knowing whether I wanted more or wanted less from him, and put up a hand against his chest to push him away.

“Let it happen, sweetheart,” he told me and I could see a cocky look in his eyes. 

Before I could ask what he was cocky about, the most amazing pleasure washed over my body, taking my voice and breathing away. It was so good and so strong, I could barely keep my eyes open. I could feel my pussy gushing juices all over his hand and onto the table.

“Feels good, doesn’t it, sweetie,” I heard him say, but his voice sounded suddenly distant.

I could feel him still thrusting his fingers in and out of me and I lowered my hand to try to move his hand away. The pleasure was too much and I felt like if he kept going, I might actually pass out from the pleasure. 

With one last thrust, he slowly took his finger out of me and let go of my neck. I felt him caress the side of my face and I looked at him to see him licking his fingers clean of my juices. 

“How was it,” he asked, taking his fingers out, a small grin on his lips.

“I think we both know the answer to that,” I replied, about to move off the table, but stopped when I felt how wet and weak my legs were. I looked down to see that my thighs, some of the table, and a little bit of my shirt was covered in my juices. “Oh shit.”

“Yeah,” he said, cockily, and I looked back up to see him fully grinning at me. “I’m that good.”

“Shut up,” I moved my legs off the table and tried to stand up, but almost fell at how weak they still were, but before I could fall down, Dean had caught me and held me up against him, wrapping an arm around my middle. 

“You alright,” he asked. I nodded at him and noticed that the cockiness he just had was quickly replaced by a nervousness that was rare to see on the older Winchester, almost reminding me of a scared teenager. “You alright with this? With us?”

“Yeah.”

“And you're alright with us being...more than friends?”

“Dean,” I couldn’t help but chuckle at his nervousness. “You just made me squirt for the first time on the table. Yes, I want to be more than friends.”

“Oh,” he chuckled and I was glad to see that I eased his nervousness. Looking up at him, I couldn’t remember why I waited so long to do this with him.

“Wanna go to my room?”

“Um,” I looked over my shoulder to the table to see the puddle of my juices sitting on the edge. “Maybe we should clean the table, then leave. And be quiet. Don’t wanna wake Sam.”

“Too late.” 

We both turned to see a tired and angry Sam looking at us in pajamas in the entryway. His hair was all over his head and he had bags under his eyes. 

“Clean it, then go to sleep. No more tonight.”

“Okay,” I told him. Usually I would feel embarrassed, but now I’m just glad me and Dean finally got together and I looked up at him to see he wasn’t embarrassed either. We were both alright with this.

#supernatural #spn #supernatural imagine #spn imagine #supernatural x reader #spn x reader #supernatural x black!reader #spn x black!reader #spn x woc!reader #spn x female!reader #supernatural smut #spn smut #dean winchester #dean winchester smut #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x black!reader #dean winchester x woc!reader #dean winchester lemon #spn lemon #dean winchester x female reader #black!reader #woc!reader

[steddieas-shegoes]

Another request idea! I was listening to What a Time To Be Alive by Fall Out Boy and the line "But, baby, please, I just need someone to hold me Even though you don't even know me" struck me as a particularly good steddie prompt. Maybe some hurt/comfort? Thanks for even reading this request!

Full disclosure: I never got really into FOB. I mean obviously love their classics. Anything that was on the radio I liked it just fine. But I did have to go listen and look up the lyrics for this one because just that line had me going feral with an idea. I've read a few fics where Steve and Eddie meet at a party, which honestly makes a lot of sense canonically. Eddie has the goods, parties need the goods, Steve threw a lot of parties. This is a slightly different take on that premise. It's a LOT of hurt, and a LOT of comfort. Steve is kind of pitiful actually, and I love that for him. Eddie's super into it too. Also tagged it light dom/sub because of nonsexual type things that happen while Eddie is comforting Steve. To me, since they didn't have a discussion about it and aren't in a relationship, it could just be seen as one dude kind of being a little pushy when taking care of another dude, but that tag doesn't exist so here we are. I hope this gets posted in time for you to cry in the school pick up line! - Mickala ❤️

---------------------------------------------------------

Steve should not have come to this party. Tommy always threw a huge one at the end of the year, right when his parents left for their anniversary vacation, and Steve always came.

But this year was the first year he hadn’t been invited by Tommy.

He really hadn’t been invited at all, but it was just common knowledge that it was happening here and now, so here he was.

No more crown, hanging onto his sanity by a thread, and his only friends were barely 13 years old.

Being a wallflower was a new thing for him.

He watches from the corner of the kitchen, sees the people he used to call friends getting drunk, getting high, dancing. It doesn’t seem fun anymore.

He’s glad that’s not him anymore.

So why does he feel like crying?

He holds it in, takes small sips of his beer, focusing on the bitter taste. He didn’t even like beer. Just drank it to maintain the King of Keg Stands crown

As the night drags on, it sinks in that he just doesn’t fit in this world anymore. It wasn’t made for him, he wasn’t made for it.

He didn’t really fit anywhere.

He choked back a sob, rushing out the back door of the house and down to the pond that Tommy and his dad fished out of.

No one ever went out here, too worried about bugs or snakes, but Steve couldn’t find it in himself to care right now.

His legs gave out when he reached the dock, his body sinking down to the wood below him as he felt tears fall down his face.

It wasn’t a panic attack, he’d had plenty of those, made it through plenty of them on his own. This was just sadness.

He was alone out here, not even the noise of the party to keep him company.

He was alone everywhere, really.

Sure, he had the kids. But they were kids. They hung out with him because he protected them, not because they thought of him as a friend.

His parents hadn’t been home in nearly six months, hadn’t called in two, didn’t even seem interested in the fact that he was graduating high school.

Nancy didn’t give him the time of day, nor should she after everything that happened.

The friends he grew up with, the friends he thought would be there for him, ended up being terrible.

“Shit, Harrington? Is that you?”

Steve sniffed.

He couldn’t be found like this, his reputation would suffer even more, somehow.

He wiped his eyes quickly, hoping that it was dark enough the other person wouldn’t see the movement.

“Uh, yep,” Steve managed to say after a deep breath, surprised that his voice didn’t sound as wrecked as he felt.

He turned around and saw Eddie Munson walking up the dock.

Everyone knew Eddie only got invited to these parties because he sold weed. Eddie himself only came to the parties because he knew he could make a killing just for showing up for an hour or two.

The only times he’d ever spoken to Eddie were to make sure he showed up for his own parties, offering him a tip of $20 just to come well-stocked.

He always came, never accepted the tip, and usually left a rolled joint in Steve’s room at the end of the party.

He didn’t think he did that for everyone, but he was too scared that it would stop if he asked.

“What are you doing out here?”

“Just felt like fishing,” Steve responded, slapping his hand against his face as soon as he said it.

“With your bare hands in the dark?” Eddie snorted. “I will give you free weed for a year if you can manage to do that right now.”

Steve cracked a small smile.

“Make it free weed for life and I may consider hopping in and giving it a try.”

Eddie’s laugh filled the night, loud and full of life. Something Steve needed to hear.

But Eddie sobered quickly, watching as Steve looked down at his lap.

“Needed a break from the party?”

“Guess so.”

“It didn’t seem like you were doing much in there.”

Steve just shrugged, not sure how to explain without crying again.

But apparently Eddie wasn’t going to let him get away with that.

“Heard about you and Nancy, man. Sorry it didn’t work out,” Eddie said, nudging his shoulder with his hand.

He was really close, close enough for Steve to feel the warmth radiating from his body. It was that awkward time between spring and summer, and the night was warm, but it still felt nice.

He hadn’t had someone so close to him on purpose in a long time. Maybe if he scooted an inch to the left, he would brush against Eddie’s hand just right and-

“Shit, you’re crying again,” Eddie said.

His hand was suddenly on Steve’s shoulder, and Steve shivered at the contact.

He closed his eyes and realized that, yes, he was crying again.

Dammit.

Warm, strong arms were wrapping around him, pulling him tight against an equally warm, strong chest.

He let out a sob, his chest hurting with the effort it took to hold in as much noise as he could.

A hand was in his hair, fingers carefully running through the length of it.

“It’s alright, sweetheart. Let it out. I got ya,” Eddie was saying quietly against the top of his head, his breath sending shivers down Steve’s spine.

Steve couldn’t catch his breath. The way Eddie was holding him, talking to him, caring for him, it was more than he’d ever really had.

He knew he’d never see or talk to Eddie again, so why not embarrass himself?

“Match my breaths, Stevie,” Eddie calmly tried getting him to calm down.

And he could if he tried, he knew he could. He wasn’t having a panic attack, just a breakdown he’d been meaning to have for a year now. He needed to get it out.

“Look at me.”

Eddie’s tone was different now, deeper and difficult to ignore.

Steve looked at him, eyes wide, wet with tears still falling. His nose was running, he could feel it starting to drip, but Eddie was holding him tightly, and he couldn’t move his hands to try to wipe his face at all.

“Good boy.”

Steve shivered again. He blamed it on a chill in the air, but he knew that they both knew there was no chill in the air.

The air was humid, a rainstorm expected the next day keeping the environment around them stale and still.

“You can cry as much as you want, but you have to breathe. Understand?”

Steve nodded, taking in a shaky breath.

“Better,” Eddie smiled, his face still showing concern, but relaxing when Steve started taking more frequent, slow breaths.

He felt less tears gather and fall the more breaths he took, his eyes never leaving Eddie’s smiling face.

“Doing better, sweetheart?”

Steve nodded, but he still felt the lingering loneliness, knew that when Eddie left him, he’d be back to square one.

“What’s got you so upset, huh?”

Steve shrugged, letting his head rest on Eddie’s shoulder.

“Did someone hurt you?”

What a loaded fucking question that was.

Yeah, a lot of people hurt Steve, for as long as he could remember, emotionally and physically.

But he wasn’t about to spill his guts to Eddie, even if he was being nice. He didn’t know the guy enough to start talking about his abandonment issues.

Eddie’s hands were running along his back, soft and then harder, soft again, then settled in his lower back.

His hands were big, bigger than Steve’s even, and his fingers were long. His splayed out hands covered all of Steve’s lower back area.

He felt covered, protected.

He didn’t want to get up.

“Steve, if someone hurt you, you need to tell someone. It doesn’t have to be me, but maybe your parents or the counselor.”

“Can’t tell my parents if they’re the ones who hurt me,” Steve spoke before realizing what he was saying.

It hit him so suddenly, he started to pull away, a small whimper leaving his body without his consent.

But Eddie wasn’t letting him go, tightened his arms around him and shushed him gently.

“Hey, stay with me. We don’t have to talk about it, let me just hold you a bit more.”

Steve gave in. He couldn’t understand why, or how, or what was running through his mind. He just knew the way Eddie was holding him made him feel whole for maybe the first time in his life.

He chased that feeling, sinking further into Eddie’s chest and letting the man rock him back and forth slowly.

Thinking went out the window as one of Eddie’s hands slowly brushed through his hair, then a finger slowly traced along his hairline, down his jaw, over his lips.

The whimper he let out now had nothing to do with being upset.

“Okay, sweetheart?”

“Why are you being nice to me?”

Eddie’s fingers froze, but only for a moment. Steve knew he’d never outright bullied Eddie, had probably been nicer to him than most of his friends had, but it didn’t change the fact that he’d never been particularly kind either.

His finger moved back along his lip, then up along his nose, then to his forehead. It was like he was trying to commit everything to memory, soaking every moment of this up because he didn’t think he’d have it again.

And maybe he wouldn’t.

But Steve wanted this to happen again when he wasn’t having a mental breakdown in Tommy’s backyard.

“Because sometimes there’s a lot more to people than what everyone sees and I think I see you a lot better than most people do. I don’t need you to explain anything to know you’re hurting and you don’t deserve to be.”

He said it like it was simple, like it made all the sense in the world for him to comfort him.

Maybe to him it did.

“But I was an asshole.”

“You were. But it doesn’t take a genius to see you aren’t anymore.”

“How do you know that?”

Eddie was quiet for a minute, his fingers moving back to Steve’s hair and tugging gently so he had to pull away from his chest and look at him.

“The old Steve would have never even given me a chance to help. He also wouldn’t have been standing by the wall for a party like this or escaping to a secluded area to cry. The old Steve wouldn’t be looking at me like you are right now.”

“How am I looking at you?”

“Like you want me to kiss you,” Eddie smiled.

He said it easily. Like saying it wouldn’t have made most other guys punch him immediately.

“And if I do?”

“You’ll have to ask nicely. You may be a changed man, but I do deserve some manners.”

Steve smiled at him, his charm replacing any lingering sadness.

“Oh? So if I were to lean in and kiss you that would be rude? I need to say please?”

Even in the dark, Steve could see Eddie blushing.

“I’m not stopping you,” Eddie finally said, voice strong despite the redness of his cheeks.

“So if I said please, you’d kiss me?” Steve asked as he inched closer, his breath hot against Eddie’s lips.

“If you said please, I’d do anything you wanted,” Eddie gasped out.

“Please kiss me,” Steve breathed out, his lips gently grazing against Eddie’s.

Eddie pushed forward the final centimeters, his lips warm and wet against Steve’s.

They both groaned into the kiss, Eddie’s hands cupping Steve’s jaw to keep him there.

Steve moved so he could straddle Eddie’s lap, his hands resting on Eddie’s shoulders as he finally gained the higher ground.

He realized quickly he didn’t want it, not with Eddie.

He let out a whimper and Eddie pulled away for a moment, but only to smirk and nudge him back.

“This dock isn’t gonna collapse under us, is it?”

“Don’t know,” Steve supplied as he settled on his back, Eddie hovering over him.

“Guess we’ll have to find out.”

Eddie’s lips were back on his, demanding, but slow.

Minutes passed, maybe hours.

Steve felt safer than he ever had, here under Eddie, with every possibility that someone could find them eventually and not giving a shit about it.

Eddie would keep him safe.

He didn’t know Eddie well, but he knew that much.

No one who helped a known asshole when he was having a breakdown at a party would just leave him to be beat up for kissing a dude.

The way Eddie touched him, rough hands fluttering over any place his skin was visible, lips and tongue making new patterns against his own, it felt like Steve was being cherished, appreciated, loved.

If this was all he ever got, if this is all he ever felt and tasted of Eddie, he thinks it would be enough.

Or it wouldn’t and he would never feel like this again.

“You’re thinking too loud, sweetheart,” Eddie mumbled against his lips.

“Just feels good,” Steve added, placing another kiss against his lips.

He could feel the shift, the way Eddie was slowing down, pulling away inch by inch.

It wasn’t enough.

Steve whimpered.

“Sh. It’s okay, Stevie. We’re just pausing for now,” Eddie moved back, kissing his forehead before there was too much space between them.

He heard voices in the distance, a reminder that the party was still happening and possibly wrapping up.

“Did you drive here?”

“I walked.”

“You walked?”

Eddie sounded upset.

“I’m only a street away. Not a long walk.”

“I’ll drive you back to yours. Walking this late after so many idiots have been drinking and plan to drive is dangerous.”

Steve rolled his eyes.

“I’m not a damsel in distress or whatever they’re called.”

“Ah, but you are. Crying alone outside in the dark, waiting for a big, strong man to come save you? My chariot awaits!” Eddie was helping him stand as he spoke, then bowed and gestured towards the road where his van must have been parked.

Steve couldn’t help the laugh he let out.

Yeah, maybe he was a damsel in distress. Maybe he would let Eddie rescue him.

Maybe he didn’t have to be so lonely, at least for tonight.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steve is so lonely #this is pre-season 4 #hurt/comfort #ficlet #request

[hangmans-girl]

One Admiral's Daughter (Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Reader)

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Simpson!Reader

Summary: Of all the people in the bar, Bradley's eyes decided to set themselves on a forbidden fruit.

Warnings: Light cursing, sexual innuendos (but nothing happens really), fluff, sexual tension

Words: 4,107

Author's Note: I whipped this out of my brain the last minute because I thought that it has been months since I wrote and this has been in my drafts for as long as I can remember. I hope you like it :')

Damn, it's bitter. You thought as the warm remains of the vodka scratched your throat. You shoved the glass away from you as you stared at it with so much hate.

"What did the glass do, dear?" Penny asks as she places a cold glass of beer in front of you. You groaned as you leaned away from the counter.

"I'm bored, Pen. Why can't I just work for you?"

Penny smiles, "You know I can't hire you, that's an order from your Dad."

You rolled your eyes and sighed. Your dad always loved to ruin everything for you. You never know how he always knew what you were doing despite him being really busy with his work. Sometimes, you'd even think he had been sending someone to spy on you when he was not around. "Fine, I guess I'll just sit here and try not to go mad with boredom."

Penny ruffled your hair as she chuckles. "Silly, why don't you just go to your office or the base to kill your time?"

You shook your head. "First, office hours are 'till 1 pm only, and second, Dad's office is too quiet for me. The Hard Deck is literally the only place that's keeping me sane, Pen."

"Well, what about you go dancing now since it's almost 7pm and customers are already flooding in? Maybe you could get yourself a dance partner or something."

You grimaced. "No, thanks. I'd rather stay here and keep myself company."

"See? You won't even lift your butt out of that chair," She shakes her head, "I'll go take some orders now. Ring me up when you need more." She adds as she tapped the side of your beer mug.

You smiled at Penny before drinking from your beer again. It's going to be a long night.

"Hey, Rooster. Check her out," Payback elbows Rooster on the stomach as Rooster looks at where he was pointing.

"I love me a woman in red." Payback adds as he continues to look respectfully at the girl on a red sundress by the bar counter.

Rooster shrugged. "What about it?"

"What do you mean what about it, man? She's hot."

"How do you know that? You haven't even seen her face." Rooster punches his friend's chest lightly before looking in the girl's direction again. This time, the girl was already facing their direction, talking to a stranger with a beautiful smile on display.

Rooster forgot to breathe for a second. "What about now?" Payback asks Rooster as if he'd sensed his friend's sudden change of heart.

"You wanna know what I think?"Rooster asks, eyes still on the girl, "Hold my beer." He shoves his beer mug onto Payback's chest as he made his way to the stage.

"Oh, come on, man! I don't like where this is going." Payback groans as he saw Rooster grab a microphone.

Rooster then made his way to the jukebox to type in a song. "Trust me, Payback, " He says as the song starts, tapping Payback's chest before making his way toward his target. "This is how you get a girl."

As you drank your second beer of the night, you suddenly felt a hand on your shoulder. "Excuse me, miss," You turned to see who it was and saw an unfamiliar man with a mustache who had a Hawaiian shirt on with a white tank top underneath.

Your brows furrowed in confusion when another man shoved him aside. "I'm sorry, miss. He's just drunk--" His words got cut off when the mustached-man shoved him aside as well.

"I've never seen you looking so lovely as you did tonight, I've never seen you shine so bright," He sings, stepping much closer to you. You chuckled, looking around as you saw people gather around your space to watch him sing.

"I've never seen so many men ask you if you wanted to dance, They're looking for a little romance, given half a chance, and I have never seen that dress you're wearing or the highlights in your hair that catch your eyes, I have been blind;" He continues, as he points at you accompanied with his dramatic gestures as he sang.

You continued watching him sing since he had a wonderful voice to begin with and people started to sing with him. He then grabs a rose from a bouquet he saw at a random table, handing them to you before he concluded his song.

You gladly accepted the rose from him as he smiled in victory, mindlessly handing the microphone to his friend from earlier. "You've got a nice voice, do you sing like that to every woman you see?"

Rooster chuckles as he pulls a seat for himself. "Just the pretty ones."

"Well, how many were they?"

"Just one."

"Oh, so that makes me the second one?"

"No, the first one. I've never actually done this before," He laughs, grabbing a beer from the counter as he drank on it. "Y'know, It's crazy how I went through that just to get your name." He adds, making you giggle in response.

"You could've just asked," You shrugged, extending your hand toward him. "I'm (Y/N) Simpson."

You saw him wince at your response. "What's wrong?" You asked.

"Nothing, it's just...I've never thought of the chances of me dealing with another Simpson for today, you know?"

You tilted your head in curiosity. "Oh, you could tell me about it."

"Over beer?" He asks as he places an empty bottle on the counter. You grabbed him another cold one and placed it right in front of him. "Yup, over beer."

He muttered a small thanks as he drank before speaking. "Well, we have this superior officer at work who can be insufferable at times. Last time, he made us train 'till the wee hours of the night and uhm...I'd love to tell you more, but I think I've stressed out how much of a jerk he can be sometimes."

You leaned back against your chair and shook your head. "That sucks, like what are they? a god or something?"

"Of the Navy I suppose, he's an Admiral." He replies, making everything make sense to you.

"So, I take it that you're from the Navy." He nods. "So, you're a pilot?" You asked as he nods again, making you smile mischievously. You realized that he was actually talking about your Dad so you decided to get the whole gossip from him without him suspecting anything.

"You know what? Tell me more about this Admiral Simpson. Get it out of your chest." You encouraged him as you leaned closer to listen more carefully. He didn't seem to realize what you were doing so he continued to speak ill about your Dad the whole night.

There were times that you agreed with what he said since your dad was a bit annoying, and there were times that you'd laugh at their experiences during their training. Overall, the night became less boring when Bradley stepped in.

"So, this is it, huh? When can I see you again?" He asks as he leans his arm beside your waist, his height towering over your seated figure.

You tilted your head as you smiled at him. "I think we'll be seeing each other more often, Bradley. You can count on it." You winked at him before pushing him away gently by his chest, leaving the bar and leaving him wanting more.

The next day, you decided to spend the rest of your day at your dad's office since you just got off of work and The Hard Deck was still closed. "You could've just stayed home, (Y/N)." Your dad says as he busies himself with his paperwork.

You sat on his guest couch as you reached for the hidden stash of fashion magazines underneath his wooden center table. "It's too boring at home, dad. I promise to be on my best behavior here." You replied as you flipped the colorful pages of the magazines.

"You better be." He adds before he calls his assistant. "Yes, sir?"

"Call Lieutenant Bradshaw and Lieutenant Seresin to my office."

The assistant then leaves as you looked at your dad. "Are they gonna be here for long, dad?"

He looks up at you for a brief second before he flips the pages of his paperwork. "No, I just have to tell them something. I don't want to hear any word from you over there, am I clear?"

You rolled your eyes as you grinned wickedly, giving your dad a small salute. "Yes, sir."

As you scanned the pages of your magazine, you found an interesting read about bags, practically hiding half of your face with your magazine. You heard the door open as you saw two large figures enter the room through your peripheral vision.

"Well, gentlemen. I just want to tell you that you have done a good job on this mission," You heard your dad say as you continued to read, not minding their praise stories about some mission.

"And of course, there will be another special training detachment that both of you and the rest of the Dagger Team will execute. It will take place 3 weeks from now and I'll have Maverick relay the rest of the details of this mission. For now, I want both of you to lead the team in exercises."

"Yes, sir!" They replied in unison, making you look up at them in irritation.

Your irritation suddenly turned into fascination as you saw who it was. Bradley. He was standing upright and proper in front of your father on his flight suit. You grinned as you closed the magazine you were reading, propping your head on your hand as you crossed your legs in the process.

Oh, how you couldn't wait to see the look on his face when he notices you. As your father dismissed them, they turned in your direction to head to the door and Bradley stopped in his tracks when he spotted you.

You swiftly glanced at your dad who was currently busy signing his paperwork before turning your eyes toward him again as you waved at him and gave him a smile. A flash of realization washed over him as he walked out of the office with heavy footsteps.

Bradley looked like he had seen a ghost as he walked away from the Admiral's office. "Hey, Bradshaw. What's wrong with you?" Hangman asks, snapping him out of his thoughts.

Instead of answering, Bradley only shakes his head before he continues to walk away from Hangman. He couldn't believe it. He just couldn't believe that he was talking shit about the Admiral to the person who turned out to be his superior officer's daughter.

He mentally punched himself as he headed to the ready room before slumping himself on the couch to sulk the whole afternoon. The last thing he wanted was to ruin his career by dallying with an Admiral's daughter.

You, on the other hand, asked permission from your Dad to go out and get some fresh air. You actually just wanted to roam the corridors and explore the whole base without your dad appointing someone to chaperone you all throughout your exploration.

You still grinned at Bradley's reaction when he saw you at your dad's office. Where could he be right now? You thought, peeking at every room you passed by, hoping to see him at least.

You saw a room in the corner with a half-opened door. You headed straight to it before peeking inside. Your lips curled up in a smile as you quietly pushed the door open upon realizing who was in the room.

"So, Lieutenant Bradshaw, huh?" You spoke as you closed the door behind you, making him get up from the couch as he looks at you in shock.

"What are you doing here?"

You placed a hand on your chest and acted as if you were offended by his question. "What am I doing here? Am I not allowed to visit a friend?" With your emphasis on friend, he cleared his throat before he stood from the couch.

"Look, last night was a mistake. I didn't mean all of that." He stutters as you make your way toward him slowly with your arms crossed on your chest.

"Even the part that you found me pretty?"You whined, making him sigh in return as you giggled at his reaction. "We both know that it wasn't a mistake, but don't worry. I won't tell on you," You added as you took some steps back to lean on the door to block the exit.

"Good. Because that won't happen again." He says as he walks in your direction. You stood your ground on the door as you continued to stare at his towering figure.

"You're leaving? So soon?" You knitted your eyebrows together as you looked up at him with an innocent doe-eyed look.

Bradley sighs in frustration as he ran his hand through his hair. "Please move away from the door, miss." He says, making you pout at the sudden honorifics.

You sighed as you trailed your hand up his chest, tracing your fingers on the patches of his fight suit as he looked at you with dark, brooding eyes. "Why don't you make me, Lieutenant?"

He closed his eyes as he clenched his jaw before grabbing your wandering hand on his chest. "It's best if you leave me alone, miss. It would be better for the both of us." He says before pushing you gently aside as he hurriedly exits the room.

It has been like that for months. Bradley ignoring you and you trying to get his attention. You would even show up in your dad's office in a sundress on a daily basis, the ones that your dad had claimed "had a shortage of fabric", but you didn't care. The moment Bradley saw you on it, you knew how it affected him since he couldn't take his eyes off you when you roamed around the base.

It was starting to frustrate you when you couldn't get him to look at you or even talk to you. Sometimes, you'd even follow him around just to coax a reaction from him or get him to talk, but he always acted like you weren't there.

One day, you've decided that you've had enough of his indifference and devised a plan to corner him.

"Lieutenant Bradshaw, Admiral's office, now." Bradley heard the assistant say as he leaves the ready room to head to the Admiral's office. When he arrived, the door was wide open, and he proceeded to enter the room.

He sat on the chair in front of the Admiral's table. The Admiral wasn't there or in any corner of his office. His brows knitted in confusion before he heard the door close and the lock click. He turned back and saw you walking towards him with a sultry smile.

"The Admiral's not here. He's on sick leave, but I promised to take care of things that I can handle." You said, moving your dad's name plaque to the side before hopping to sit on the table as you crossed your legs, revealing an ample amount of skin in Bradley's view.

"Why did you call me here? Do you have any idea what you're doing?"He stands as he glanced at the door as if he was afraid of someone walking in on both of you.

"Relax, I locked it." You giggled. "Besides, what do you think I'm doing? I called you here to ask you about something," You tilted your head at him. "Unless you thought---" Bradley quickly cut your words off with his.

"I wasn't thinking that!" He retorted almost too quickly.

You sighed before waving your hand in front of his face to dismiss the unruly topic. "Enough of that. Why have you been ignoring me, Bradley? I've been talking to you for months now but you're always acting like I'm not there."

"I'm not obligated to talk to you, miss." He replies curtly, making you gasp.

"After all we've been through--"

"We've been through nothing, okay? Because we were never friends nor lovers. I don't know what you've planted in your mind to make you even think that we had something." He said. You hopped off the table as you took a step closer to him.

"You know what? You're such a jerk." You spat before leaving the room in a haste, heading home to drown yourself in tears and in vodka.

Bradley stood there as he composed himself, internally applauding himself for holding himself back and mentally punching himself for saying those things to you.

These past few months, Bradley had been trying to avoid you since he didn't want to spark an issue that he was interested in an Admiral's daughter. Even with your advances towards him, he was holding on to his patience for dear life not to drag you inside of a room and ravish you.

He just couldn't, he can't risk his career for this. Knowing Admiral Simpson's character, he personally wouldn't let it slide if he found out about Bradley's feelings for his daughter. Keeping that in mind gave him somewhat of a reason not to even touch a single strand of your hair.

Two weeks passed and Bradley's mind was a mess. You stopped coming over to your Dad's office and you weren't at the bar, too. He started to wonder where you might be. His wonders managed to get in the way of his training as well and it caught Maverick's attention.

He approached Bradley who was sitting on the couch with his head on both of his palms. "Hey, Brad. Talk to me. What's going on with you?" Maverick sits beside him as he places his hand on Bradley's back.

"I'm fine, Mav. Don't worry about it." He says, running both of his hands through his hair before burying his face in his palms again.

"I wouldn't be asking if you are. You've been distracted during training for a while now. Talk to me, what's going on?"

Bradley sighs. "I...I kind of got involved with someone."

Maverick's eyes widened. "You got someone pregnant?"

"No, I didn't. God, Mav." Bradley groans as Maverick sighs in relief. "Oh, thank god. Then who did you got involved with?"

"(Y/N)."

"Well, she seems to be a nice girl. What's the problem?"

"Well, the problem is, she's Admiral Simpson's daughter. I can't get involved with an Admiral's daughter."

To Bradley's surprise, Maverick burst out laughing. Bradley looked at him in confusion. "You know, you might not be my son, but you sure take after me, too."

"What does that mean?"

Maverick calms himself before speaking. "Well, back in my prime, I was involved with an Admiral's daughter, too. It didn't get me in any sort of trouble like what you currently have in mind, but it did appear on my record."

"Your point is?"

Maverick taps Bradley's shoulder. "The point is, you might be worrying for nothing. It's not like you have plans on hurting the Admiral's daughter, right?"

Bradley shakes his head in response. "I don't, but it can hurt my career, Mav."

"Well then, you pick. Pursue the girl with clean intentions and be happy with her or be a mess like this forever and be the one to hurt your career because you wouldn't be able to think straight anymore."

"Are you saying I should risk it?"

"Well, if you're fine with waiting for 30 years to take her dad out of the picture, then don't risk it."

Bradley chuckles. "30 years? Who the hell waits that long, Mav?"

Maverick shrugged. "I did." Bradley leans back in surprise. "You know who the Admiral's daughter is?"

"No way.."

"That's right, It's Penny Benjamin." Maverick smiles to himself as he looks at Bradley.

"There's no way I'm going to wait that long, Mav." Bradley stands from his seat as Maverick did, too. "Go for it, son." He tapped Bradley's shoulder before Bradley ran out of the ready room, thinking about the places you might be at the moment.

Good thing he knew just where to look.

You brushed your hair as you looked at yourself in the mirror. Was I not attractive enough? You thought. You didn't really know what to think at the moment. You did everything in your power to get him, but he didn't want to.

You sighed as you rolled your eyes and thought that it was his loss anyway. While you were deep in your thoughts, you heard a loud thump on your balcony as you were brushing your hair.

You quickly grabbed something random from your dresser as you stood up, making your way toward the curtained balcony. You gasped in horror when a tall, broad, hooded man pushed the curtains aside and made himself known before you.

You threw the thing you were holding toward him, which turned out to be a wooden hairbrush, that hit him on the head. "Ow, what was that for?" The mysterious man winced in pain.

Your brows creased in confusion. That voice, it's familiar.

"W-Who are you and what the hell are you doing here?!"You asked, grabbing your unplugged hair straightener as you pointed it at him. The man pushed his hoodie back and revealed who he was.

It was Bradley.

However, since you were still furious with him, you threw the thing you were holding at him anyway. This time, he was able to dodge it as he looked at you with a baffled expression. "What the hell are you doing in my room and how did you even get past the guards?"

Bradley shrugged. "I have my ways," He took a step closer as he sighed. "I'm here to talk to you."

"There's nothing to talk about, okay? You made it perfectly clear that I meant nothing to you---"

"Okay, I didn't mean it, okay? I didn't mean all of it. I just...I was scared that maybe you're just flirting with me and I didn't want to risk my career for nothing, but I really can't stop thinking about you. You keep messing with my head and--"

You crossed your arms, leaning beside the intercom in your room. "Do you really expect me to believe that?"

Bradley sighed as he pointed at the balcony. "I think I've proven myself well enough, considering the fact that I could've died down there in the hands of your guards."

"It's not my fault you snuck in like a thief," You said as you pushed yourself away from the wall, making your way toward him. "Is that all you have to say for yourself?" You added, trailing your hand up his chest to his nape, making him look down at you.

"Well, I..uh..I want to ask you out on a date.." He mindlessly said as he drowned himself in your eyes. God, you were beautiful. He thought.

"That was the lamest thing I've ever heard." You giggled before pulling him in for a deep kiss. He pulled you in, gripping your waist for dear life.

The kiss was passionate and all that both of you didn't notice that the door suddenly opened, revealing your dad and his fuming disposition. You immediately broke the kiss and gently pushed Bradley away as both of you composed yourselves.

"What. is. the. meaning. of. this?!"

Your eyes widened at your dad's exasperated question as you looked at Bradley. "I must've accidentally pressed the intercom button earlier."

"It's okay, I'll talk to him." He gave you a small smile before you sighed and cursed yourself.

"You, young man. Out. You're going to explain yourself in detail how and why the hell are you in my house and why on earth would you even dare touch my daughter." Bradley nodded slightly as he walked towards the door.

"Dad--"

"You stay out of this, (Y/N). I'll talk to you later." Your dad said with finality in his voice, slamming your door shut.

You sighed as you bit your lip, remembering the kiss from earlier,

What an idiot, he could've just went straight to the entrance and talked to your dad. Instead, he settled with the thought of sneaking in the Admiral's home; worse, inside the Admiral's daughter's room and was caught red-handed.

You smiled at his idiotic ways and laid in your bed, thinking about what could happen to Bradley.

Surely, he wouldn't be subjected to any torture or any sorts of punishment.

This arrangement was bound to happen anyway whichever ways he could have done it.

#bradley bradshaw fluff #top gun maverick #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x oc #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster fanfic #bradley bradshaw x y/n #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw headcanon #rooster top gun #top gun rooster

[jjsanguine]

@bengiyo talked about how Pisaeng's mother manipulated him into staying in the closet, which I didn't even catch the first time I watched the episode because her words are so twisted and layered. I knew she was manipulating him, but how long was unclear to me. But anyway I think this manipulation might be why Pisaeng has no friends except Pear. Apart from the fact that he's apparently being spied on wtf

In my experience as a woman in the loosest sense of the word, if I even mentioned a boy I knew my mother would be like oooooh are you dating??? And she doesn't even know I'm queer, this wouldn't be larger into any chance that it might just be a phase. Guarantee if Pisaeng was seen within hand holding distance of a girl who isn't Pear because Pisaeng has probably been shooting down the idea of being her romantic partners all her life and it's only as he approached 30 that he'd give into the pressure his mother would be all "marvellous, you're straight now, yes?"

So, guy friends it is, but the only guy around in secondary school was Not, and Not and Co like to drink and to be homophobic and generally prickish. It makes the chance of developing a crush fall to zero but like, witnessing casual queerphobia isn't fun, and neither is being the most sober person in the room.

Pisaeng drinks socially but he's never gotten too drunk to drive as far as I recall, so he is always pretty lucid. Not barely has a filter when he's sober, if the choice is between that as conversation and crushing loneliness, it's no wonder Pisaeng chose the latter.

At least until Kawi fell from the sky. From Pisaeng's POV, He's cute and he hangs out with the visibly queer Max often enough that everyone assumed they were dating. But Kawi told Pisaeng to fuck off in 1st year and approaching max instead was not an option if Pisaeng wanted to quash the gay allegations rather than fuel them, so for Pisaeng it was back to starting at the walls of his giant, empty house or sipping beer tersely while Not and compatriots tried to out lad each other.

Pisaeng's mother probably thinks friendship as in actual friends not just people who you fake laugh around and send some expensive gifts and then they agree to help you do insider trading to be frivolous and so doesn't care that her son is languishing because that's just the price you have to pay for money and power. And what wouldn't anyone give to live like this?

I feel like Pisaeng doesn't care that much because he's got a job in University even though his parents are rich. Like you couldn't pay me lmao to have worked when I was in uni. The only frivolous things he's spent money on are eating semi regularly at a fancy restaurant, arcade coins so he could get a plushie for Kawi, and jewellery so that Kawi could give it to Pear. He could live a similar lifestyle in only his DJ salary.

That he's a DJ is notable. His job is watching people come with their romantic partners, and friends groups and even complete strangers to have a whale of a time that he gets to participate in, even if indirectly. He's getting social interaction from work and barely because he's got mental blocks preventing him from seeking out the real thing.

Until Kawi from the future appeared and said we're going to stick together like glue by force.

#be my favourite #be my favorite the series #be my favorite #pisaeng #struggled to get this down before i fell asleep and all my words fell out of my hands

[daughterofthereaper02]

please please please could you make single mom reader and jake?? jake tries to flirt with her all the time, but she tries to be friendly because is scared of being hurt again & jake doesn't know about her baby. also she's not a pilot, penny's close friend. sometimes helps her at the hard deck. maybe he sees her and her baby while she is chatting with penny at the beach one evening.

i really wanna read such a thing!! 🥺🥺

A/N: I hope this is what you were looking for :)

You gave some of the regulars a friendly smile, giving out beers and ringing people up for drinks. You glanced over as Hangman came up to the bar "Hello beautiful" Jake said, making you blush a little. You gave him a polite smile "Lt. Seresin, as I told you before I am flattered but my answer will still be no to going on a date with you" you said with a grin. He groaned and looked at you with pleading green eyes "Please? Just one? I would love to take a beautiful woman like you out on a date" he said. You rolled your eyes and shook your head "You can tell me your order though" you told him with a smile, He sighed and told you, walking away.

Penny came over to you “That man is in love with you. I’ve never seen him like that before” she told you softly. You shook your head “I can’t and you know why. I need to focus on Jackson, he is my priority. Besides, Jake will probably want nothing to do with me when he finds out about me having a one year old” You said quietly. You hadn’t been heartbroken when your sons father wanted nothing to do with him, you were only dating two months when you found you were pregnant, it happened after you both getting drunk on your first date. You had done the whole pregnancy by yourself but when Penny heard, she helped you immediately, you were friends for a few years despite you being younger then her.

Despite not being heartbroken over the guy, it still hurt and you didn’t want your son to deal with men walking in and out of his life. “He is arrogant, I’ll give you that but you should see how he always looks for you in a crowd and the smile. All I am saying is to think about it” she said, putting a hand on your shoulder. “Don’t forget the little get together tomorrow for dinner. Mav is excited” she laughed. You shook your head fondly, that man was head over heels for your best friend.

The next day you were on the beach, holding Jackson and bouncing him a little as you talked with Penny. All you were doing was discussing the schedule for when she needed you to come and help her out. You never saw Jake staring and Maverick shook him “Hangman, what;s wrong?” he asked then looked “Oh, that’s Y/n’s son Jackson. You should go up to her” he told him. Jake nodded and came up to you as you finished talking to Penny. “You have a kid?” He asked softly, watching you hold your son tighter as he giggled, he looked just like you. “Yes. This is my little boy Jackson. Jackson, say hi to Jake” you grinned and your son waved a little.

“So you aren’t single?” He asked, rubbing his neck awkwardly. “I’m sorry” he started to tell you and you cut him off “I’m single but I’m focusing on my son. His father walked away at the pregnancy test, I don’t want men coming in and out of his life. He deserves the stability” you said, watching his face. “I can’t promise for us to work but if you’re worried I won’t stay because you have a kid, that will never happen.” he told you. “Instead of starting to date, how about we get to know each other first? I would love to get to know you and your son” Jake told you, a bright smile on his tan face.

You looked at Jackson before looking at Jake and nodded, “I can do that” you murmured. He spent the whole time with you both and got to know you, your heart fluttering as he played with your son easily. Your son didn’t like many people but he seemed to love Jake almost immediately.

Three months later you were both officially dating and while you both had your fights, he never walked away. Jake stayed a constant in yours and your sons life.

#jake 'hangman' seresin x reader #jake 'hangman' seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin #top gun: maverick #Top Gun #penny benjamin #pete 'maverick' mitchell

[nikkicloudie]

Tomorrow Never Dies

Kuina is the most gorgeous girl you have ever seen in your entire life, of course, there were a lot of pretty women but none pecked your interest until you met Kuina that is. You guys met at a cafe in Tokyo when you both bumped into each other while you both git your coffee. Ever since then, it was like love, at first sight, she would practice makeup on you and you would do her nails you guys have been dating for 2 months when she told you that she was born a man but felt like a girl, and of course, you supported her as the loving girlfriend you are. She never spoke about her past or her parents while you showed and told her all about hers she told you nothing about them until she explains how her dad would always want her to be the man that Kuina was supposed to be. She told you that her father was verbally abusive you didn't want/push her to say anything more. 

So when you both ended up in the borderlands at the beach it wasn't the most ideal considering what the rules are….1. You much always be in a bathing suit 2. You are free to live your life as you want so it means you can drink and have sex all you want 3. Death to all traitors…You always wore a shirt over your swimsuit all the time but you weren't complaining when you saw Kuina with her blue swimsuit it was like an angel in haven when you saw her you might as well has a dick then and then just you got a lady boner.

During the games, Kuina would always save you and you would return the favor but save her when she needed it. Being at the beach for a few days didn't seem all that bad at all you got free food and beer and on hit days a pool. The downfall was when drunk men and some women would try to have sex with you when you didn't wear a shirt. Kuina would be the one to stop it if it got too serious and make the person walk away with a black eye and a bloody lip if they didn't leave you alone. Kuina grabbed your arm gently and walks away around the corner and gently pushed you against the wall as she starts to make out with you holding you by your cheek while the other one is sliding down your stomach to your ass gently giving it a squeeze as you moaned a little giving her the chance to put her tongue down your throat and her hand moves away from your ass down your bathing suit bottoms to your clit as she gently starts to rub circles and brakes away from the kiss to attack your neck as you wrap your arms around her neck as you keep moaning.Her hand starts to move fast on your clit and you moan loader when all of a sudden she stops and looks at you dead in the eyes “were gonna have to be quiet” she says and she starts to repeat her hand motion again “alright princess?” she says as you respond with a moan and starts to slowly put her hand further down into your entrance as her fingers go in and out going faster and faster. As you feel a familiar knot as you came onto her fingers. As your eyes were watering Kuina takes her fingers out of your tight hole and smiles at you “lets get you into bed Princess” she says you were about to leave when you heard a sound of a biscuit being eaten and swallowed “This is why we have bedrooms for a reason you know?” there stood Chishiya eating his damn biscuits. “Just came to get Kuina for a meeting,” he says as he walks away….Chishiya with his stupid biscuits.

#aib kuina #alice in boderland x reader #kuina x fem!reader #smut #chishya

[madhattervanessa]

Kinktober 2022 - #5

Kinks: Drunk Sex, Infidelity

Words: 1084

Pairing: Will “Ironhead” Miller x F!Reader

Look, I have never before written for this man and that’s half the fun but- damn. Also don’t mind me being late in my own schedule, that’s what I made this relaxed schedule for bc uni is kicking my ass.

Love y’all!

Kinktober 2022

"Will, your girlfriend is literally over there, stop throwing your charms at me. You're drunk. Besides, I'm not looking to get killed by her girl gang."

She’s not his girlfriend. You know that. But you can’t help yourself, you like to fight when you’re drunk.

"Tipsy. I'm just tipsy. I haven't seen you in, what, 2 years?"

You turn to glare at him and of course this close, he is even more handsome. He is still the golden Miller's boy, the charmer of your school and glory child of too many prom king election wins.

But he is also Ironhead and you can see it in his broad shoulders, the stiff military posture that barely slips even when he is drunk and crooning against you; the scruffy beard and beer stench from his mouth don't fool you. The few special ops runs you had done together had been on the forefront of your mind for years.

He grins and you roll your eyes at him, trying and failing to fight off the warm memory of what else had happened half the times you had been alone, amped up by too much adrenaline and bloodlust.

"You're looking real pretty."

"I have a fiancé." You hold up the simplistic ring for his view and nod towards the bartender, motioning him for another drink.

"I know." He leans back against the bar, spreading his arm over in front of you, flexing and showing off so obviously in front of you, you're starting to consider helping his girlfriend beat him up later.

You knock back the last sip of your drink and meet his eyes.

"'S this ranger kid from the national park, yeah?" He takes the hand you had previously shown him and lifts it closer to his face again. His fingers rub over the sleek metal as he intently studies it before that arrogant and smug look slips back towards you.

"How deep is your nose buried in my fucking business, Miller?", you sneer, feeling the alcohol shortcut any thought prior to talking. The tequila and the mojitos are always quick to make your blood boil, quick to act out - Miller knows. And he likes pushing your buttons.

"You know I look out for you."

Your new drink arrives and you shoot Will another look before draining about half of it.

“I do know you, Ironhead. Maybe a little too well.”

“Then why are you sitting all the way over there?”

-

It's wrong.

It feels very right, though.

Your lips are tingly from the alcohol and salted glass rims and you melt into him, pliant under his touch as he guides you into your own apartment like it's his, too. Your lips meet as soon as the door falls closed.

It's almost instinctual at this point - you know each other's bodies better than any girlfriend or boyfriend could, every movement intimately familiar as you shove yourself into his waiting arms.

He groans against your lips and tugs you closer by your belt loops. You almost stumble over the hiking boots in the hallway before he manages to steer the two of you towards the couch.

His movements are sluggish and you taste whiskey when he dips his tongue into your mouth- it takes you both a second to get more coordinated than just tongues bumping into each other but when you feel his tongue tangling with yours it shoots straight down to your core. He spreads a hand over your jaw and when he ends the kiss, he pushes his thumb into your mouth. You envelop it with your lips and when you open your eyes you catch him watching, staring at your mouth as he slowly pulls his thumb out. He rubs the spit slick digit over your bottom lip and you open your mouth only for him to kiss you again with a grunt.

He falls backwards into the generous cushions and you fall with him, bumping your shin against the leg of the couch and then your arm on his elbow before he manages to pull you on top of him.

He pulls your shirt off before he discards his. You struggle with the hooks of your bra for a moment and he reaches up to tug at it, pushing your own hands away - a moment later you hear a loud rip before your bra falls to the ground.

You can’t even look if he really just destroyed your underwear because he manhandles you down to lay underneath him to pull at your pants next.

“Ironhead- slow down”, you mutter but he already has you naked underneath him. He does back off but only to pull at his belt until he is standing there naked, just like you are.

He is breathing heavily, meeting your eyes from where you’re leaning up on your elbows. Your lips part as you take him in: He had never lost that military, lean build, if anything, he has become more bulky. You feel the want in the back of your throat at the sight of him in front of you.

He moves in on you, pulling you towards him by your ankles over the sectional and you wriggle against his grip but go still as his large hands fan out over your calves, sliding up over your thighs.

He kneels between your legs, his lips pressing open mouthed kisses against your sternum and you squirm as he licks over your salty skin, rubbing his cheek against you. His lips find the swell of your breast and he looks up at you, swallowing you whole with his hungry gaze before licking over your nipple.

You let your head fall backwards, straining to push your chest out towards him more as he pulls you further down, one of his arms slung around your back and shoulder, cradling you as he slides his hard cock into your shamefully slick pussy.

“Fuck- Ironhead-”

He lifts his head from your tits and mock bites at the tendon of your neck before kissing you again.

“Say my name.”

You strain, gritting your teeth as he rolls his hip deeper into you. The next bite to your skin is real and you curse him.

“Will- oh my god, Will, don’t stop.”

-

You slip your ring back on in the morning, regarding both the sleeping man on your couch and the simplistic metal a sad look despite the morning sun bathing everything in a dreamy, comforting glow.

This could never happen again.

Ever.

#kinktober #kinktober 2022 #kinktober2022 #will ironhead miller #will miller x reader #will ironhead miller x reader #will ironhead miller x f!reader #triple frontier #william ironhead miller

[yeasymuffin]

It is well into thursday afternoon, the curse of living in Europe i guess, but I'll still post something for the wip wednesday. Thanks for tagging me @paperstomach!! :D

I don't know which one of my mutuals are working on stuff, so if you see this, feel free to share your wips (even if it isn't wednesday) and tag me in it if you want some feedback or just a fun comment ^-^

I have two things I am working on at the moment (three if you include my thesis 🤐) so I'll post both. One being a sapphic Victorian-esque ghost story about a haunted hotel near the beach. The second being my recently revived medieval Brittana fic inspired by this piece of art by @katimanki

At the bottom, below the 'read more' link, is the first chapter of the Brittana fic. It's like 5k words so enjoy! (@unholy-fabray you seemed interested so I'm posting this for u <3)

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Premise: Addie and Dolly are riding horseback on the beach. This is the first time they are being honest to eachother about what they are dealing with (Addie being mentally unwell, and Dolly caring deeply for her)

Addie shared a look of deep earnest. A heaviness settled upon hers shoulders. The weight of which her companion shared, for she halted her steed, letting the silence beg for Addie to answer the unspoken question.

“I want to be emaciated.” She said at last. “To feel the same kind of instinctual hunger the gulls feel as a need to drive them up into the sky. That way, and that way alone, could I explain why I feel the way I feel.”

A breath of silence fell between them. The gulls sailed low today, feeding on what tiny creatures hid beneath the surface of the sand. Dolly watched the birds with a naïve kind of curiosity as they spread their wings to glide up each time a wave got to shore with the intent to wipe away all that was before – the rhythm of which never seemed to tire.

“Well then, it must be so.” She spoke. Her face contorted in a stern frown. “But only long enough for you to explain it to me. Then, afterwards, when you sink away in the despair you cried out, let me raise your chin and fill you with love. Let me fill you till it comes out of your nose, and I will wipe away the snot, and hold you, and tell you all can be well. If only you let yourself feel it.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

AAAAAND THE GLEE FIC:

Long Live: chapter one

Throughout the evening the regular folk enters the taverns until a lively buzz of songs sung by drunk rumbles through the streets. Every so often, when a drunkard is kicked out for becoming too rowdy, a passerby would be able to distinctly make out the lyrics of the drinking song as the words roll of tens of stumbling tongues. Where each tavern poured their own ale, so were the songs and festive hymns hand crafted and specific to the place.

The Vulgar Elderberry, known by locals as the most disorderly and unrestrained pub of the city, where middle-aged men go to pick fights and prostitutes make a humble fortune, is as busy as usual. At every hour of the day there is a group of drunk men, but as soon as the sun goes down the benches and stools fill till the early morning sun peeks over the horizon.

Santana, who might as well be wearing Hans Christian Andersen’s red dancing shoes, is having a blast. With only a bat of her eyes a new drink finds its way to her hand. Men are at her feet with every sway of her hips or twirl of the skirt. And they are at her feet in the literal sense since she is up on her third table of the night. Drunkards are watching her from below, tongues nearly rolling out of their mouth and on the sticky surface of the table which has seen the spillage of many a beer.

On the table next to her is a blonde girl she has seen a couple times before. She does not know her name but somehow they always end up at the same tavern and decide to entertain the guests together. Though it is clear the girl does this on a regular basis, dancing into the early hours of the day, Santana thinks she is decently able to keep up in her drunken haze.

The regular bard is strumming away on a lyre, his beautiful song drowned out by the intoxicated attempts of the patrons singing along. Santana has reached the point where the loud chants do not sound loud anymore and the world is engulfed in a blanket of bliss. Yes, this means she sometimes misses a beat or nearly hits one of the guys who is sitting at her table in the face when she kicks her leg up, but hey, she is at the Elderberry. Any visitor is bound to come home with multiple bruises.

At a dark corner of the bar she sees someone dressed in a dark cloak and a blue tunic. The guest has had two mugs of beer at most and has been looking at her intensely all night. Santana, being a glutton for attention and praise, dances harder for every guy staring at her but tonight she has been dancing for this visitor and this visitor alone. Sharp eyes ogle her from under the hood, face inexpressive no matter how suggestive her dancing gets.

If anyone is sober enough to pay attention to the relatively tall visitor in blue, they would notice how out of place the person is. Not only does the person look too old to still be dressed as a squire, the light blue fabric of the tunic is too expensive for any commoner to wear to a pub like this. A night without a fight is rare, and though people like to show off their riches and power in any social setting, the average response to vanity in the Vulgar Elderberry is a punch to the throat. To wear a light blue dyed linen tunic is asking for trouble.

Santana’s eye fucking gets interrupted when she feels a slosh of beer hit her feet. Still dancing, she looks down at the two guys who just toasted too zealous for the state of their motor control. Their spilled toast is all over the table. She shouts a string of curse words at them and not so subtly stomps in the pool of beer, trying to splash them back.

Too drunk or turned on – or both – to care, the men wipe the drops of beer from their face and out of their beards. Two pairs of lust filled eyes look at her, not registering the thundercloud that is forming above Santana’s head. The bald one barks at her like a dog, which encourages another fellow at her table to howl at her. All night, men have whistled and jeered at her but now most guests are unable to remember how much they had to drink. The last bit of Santana’s rationale takes over. Too much exhilaration will lead to men grabbing her for a dance and trying to suck her tongue out of her mouth, which is the last thing she wants.

Helplessly, she looks over at her blonde friend as she twirls, which may not be the best thing to do as she is certain she would trip if asked to walk in a straight line. Still, Santana never said her rationale was logical or the most efficient. After a couple twirls, she finally meets the eyes of her friend who frowns at her, asking what is wrong. Santana nods to her feet where one of the men is trying to grab at her dress to smell it. The girl nods, having understood the cry for help, then looks at her own crowd of drunk men and smiles teasingly.

“Me and my friend here are kind of getting bored.” The girl shouts. Santana is barely able to make out what is trying to say despite their close proximity. The men at her feet perk up, ready to serve this nymph anything as long as it gets her to keep dancing for them.

One guy jumps up on the bench and props one of his feet on the table. He extends an arm and reaches out for the girl. She places her hand in his outstretched hand. He grabs it tenderly and kisses it. Despite the softness of the kiss, which feels out of place seeing the tavern they are in, it is the lewdest thing Santana has seen all evening. She gawks at the sight. There might as well have been two people going at it doggy style on the table next to her.

“Two ale for these lovely broads who have been entertaining us all evening.” The guy screams at the bar.

“It’s on the house!” the bartender yells back as he puts two large mugs on the dark oak surface of the bar. An ocean of hands reaches out to bring the mugs to their destination.

A hand grabs Santana’s lower arm. Ready to fight off a man who cannot keep his hands to himself, Santana spins around to face her assailant, fist in the air ready to punch a bloody nose. To her surprise, it is the girl. She is leaning dangerously far forward and beckons for Santana to join her on her table. Assisted by a steady tug, she jumps over to the table. Delighted when her shoes do not stick to the table top, a luxury her old table did not have.

The girl does not let go of her. Repositioning her hand instead and intertwines their fingers together, her other hand finds Santana’s waist. The blonde turns her head and screams something at the bard. Santana is too drunk to hear it, overwhelmed by the sudden close proximity and the intense brown eyes the girl has.

“Dance with me.” She says. And Santana does.

Never before has she danced a peasant partner dance. After a minute of stepping on toes and legs tangling in skirts, she understands the rhythm of the dance. She smiles brightly at her partner when she figures it out. The girl grins back, all shiny teeth and pink lips.

Beneath her, the men’s clapping slowly increases. Santana dances like it is the only thing she has ever done in her life. Her body moves on its own, keeping up with the pace that grows faster by the second.

They hop and twirl and shimmy. Without looking away from the girl, Santana knows her whirling her red dress and the orange dress of her partner creates for an impressive sight. Two flames growing brighter and brighter in an endless waltz until they burn up together.

They dance on and on. The muscles in her legs are screaming at her to stop, but Santana cannot help it. If this is where she dies, dancing on a table in a disgustingly dirty tavern, so be it. May the heavens find her exhausted soul and realise that for once she enjoyed what she was doing with every fibre of her being.

One of the gods must have heard her death wish, as in the next second one of Santana’s feet slips off the table and she nearly tumbles into the lap of a sweaty, overweight guy. The only thing keeping her on her podium is the blonde girl who instantly drags her back on her feet.

The delirium of her aching body is taking over, or perhaps she is a lot more drunk than she thought she was. An all-consuming laughter bubbles up from her stomach and leaves her body. She looks like a maniac, but she cannot find the energy to care. There is no one here able to scold her for her unruly behaviour. The chest pressed against hers starts moving in shocks. The girl, too, is laughing hysterically.

She needs a full minute to get her laughter under control. Suddenly, as the last hiccups of her giggle die down, she realises she is still clinging to the girl who is sweaty and hot under her grip. A droplet of sweat rolls down the girl’s neck and pools behind her collarbone. Aware of the heaving chest pressed against hers, and the inappropriate intimacy Santana lets go. Albeit hesitantly.

The girl smiles at her, bright eyed, then turns to the men at their feet. “Where are those beers? I feel hot!” She knows exactly how to play a crowd.

“Yes you are!” A guy screams from a couple tables over.

A large mug filled to the brim is pressed in Santana’s hand by the girl. Her head is spinning. If she drinks this and keeps on dancing, she will sleep in the gutter tonight. Having sweat off half of her body weight, Santana takes a big gulp of her beer. She cringes when the lukewarm liquid fills her mouth, having expected the beer to be cold.

“Chug! Chug! Chug!” A guy with a sophisticated moustache chants. He must be a notary of some sorts during the day.

The blonde nudges Santana with her hip and lifts her mug suggestively. Not really caring much for her future self, Santana lifts her own mug with a devilish grin. They toast clumsily, spilling a fair amount as the mugs hit and start chugging.

From across the room, Santana makes eye contact with the peculiar visitor as she chugs her beer. Wanton from dancing, Santana decides to do something she has never done before. With her free hand, she undoes two buttons of her dress, showing off her cleavage. Nearly finished with her beer, she pulls the mug away from her mouth ‘accidentally’ spilling the remainder which drips down her chin and disappears between her breasts.

The cheers of the crowd beneath her leave her cold. Still, Santana bites away her smugness. She caught the visitor biting her lip and fumbling with the belt, hands restless from seeing Santana act all licentious. The victorious smile on her face is hard to supress so she turns to her still nameless friend and focuses her attention on her.

Her heart is running in circles behind her ribcage and kicking up a storm. A heat is growing from deep within and burns her up from the inside. It is dizzying. Santana feels like she can puke at any moment.

The girl says something.

“What?” Santana asks confused.

“It’s Quinn.” The girl repeats. Santana blinks. She does not remember asking the girl for her name, but she must have. Whilst she struggled to keep the content in her stomach inside, her body must have taken over and made small talk. Like when her mind goes away to that special place where she can run away on the back of a horse and ride into the sunset, while her body is talking about the current affairs of the kingdom with some stuck up duke.

“Are you okay? Do you need to sit down?” Quinn asks. Her eyes warm with worry. Santana wishes she can take her home. Quinn seems like a person you can be truly honest with, who would not judge you for the demons in your head.

Santana shakes her thoughts away. She forces herself to take a couple deep breaths. “Yeah, I’m good. The dancing wore me out.” She says. “I’m San- Rosario. Rosario San Cruz I think we’ve met before.”

“Quinn Fabray.” Quinn grabs her hand and spins her around. The soft fabric of Santana’s red dress undulates in graceful waves as she twirls. “We have. I remember because I never had a dance partner that’s able to keep up with me the way you do.”

“Why thank you.” Santana says demure, instinctively bowing elegantly as she takes the compliment. As Santana comes back up she bites her tongue to keep from smiling too hard. Though it’s too late. This Quinn girl has already brought out her cheek dimples. Santana hates them. She is usually pretty good at showing off a certain emotion when really she is feeling something else, but when her cheek dimples show, everyone can see she is truly happy in and out. Information which she prefers not to give away.

Quinn takes Santana’s mug with one hand and holds her other hand up invitingly. “May I have another dance with you, Rosario?” She says with an accent mocking the highbrow and royals.

“But of course you may.” Santana grabs the hand, responding in the same accent.

Quinn regards her, then pecks a kiss to each of the mugs and throws them behind her without looking, like a bride throwing her bouquet. Men dive after the mugs, deeming them worth more than jewellery. Not even a peregrine falcon diving after its prey is as fast.

The bard is playing a joyful song, Quinn sings along softly as she leads Santana. Santana cannot fully commit to the dance however, she keeps one eye on the men fighting over the mug - not trusting it will simply blow over. The tension she had tried escaping by going here has returned. The tiny demon running around in her skull is pulling on all the strings, creating doom scenarios of what could happen. Ranging from a simple barfight to a dragon ripping the roof of the tavern and burning them all alive.

“Stop thinking.” Quinn points out sharply. “This is the third time you’ve stepped on my foot and your eyes keep darting to the side. I know for a fact you’re not distracted by a handsome knight.”

Santana frowns at what Quinn might be implying. “What? I totally like knights.”

“Yeah, who doesn’t?” Quinn lets go of her for a second to do her own little freestyle whilst she stares at the guy whose hand she kissed earlier. “But I don’t see them here. Just enjoy the moment. Worries are for tomorrow.”

Quinn’s hands find her body again and she leads them into a high tempo waltz. Santana gets twirled around again, seemingly Quinn’s favourite move, and lets her thoughts fly away from her as she spins around.

In anticipation of the dip Quinn leads her into she takes a deep breath and closes her eyes. Arms stretched out dramatically, she fully trusts the hands around her waist to not drop her. Her long, dark hair nearly brushes the table top. Her flair for the dramatics is appreciated as whistles and shouts fill the air, shortly drowning out the music.

Then she is pulled back up, rougher than she expected. A yelp escapes her mouth as she crashes into Quinn. Instinctively, her feet position themselves so she is ready to waltz away but the lead does not come. Quinn is looking at something behind her then hisses in her ear. “Duck.”

Before Santana can ask what is going on, firm hands grab her shoulders and she is pushed downwards. With a thud she falls on her ass on the table top. Tears jump in her eyes at the sharp pain that shoots up her spine. Her skin will be bruised for a week. One foot is in the lap of a passed out drunk guy. Carefully, she tries to remove her foot and crawl of the table. A heavy body crashes into her and nimbly slides off the table.

“There is no time to be nice.” Quinn chides. Rudely, she drags Santana to her feet and checks her over. By then, Santana realises the side of the table they are on is empty, aside for the passed out guy. The gears in her head are turning as she looks around. People are chanting, not the regular songs, but cheering and howling. Instead of the low notes of a mostly male choir, deep aggravated grunts fill the air.

The chanting, together with the groups forming between the tables click in Santana’s head. There are fights happening. Multiple.

“I knew the mugs were going to cause trouble.” Santana says to no one in particular as she looks at the fight at the opposite side of the table. A shoe flies through the air and hits a guy who had previously nursed his beer unbothered. Agitated from the beer that spilled all over his tunic he grabs the shoe and throws it back, hitting a different bystander in the face. The bystander makes a face that can only be described as an toad blown up with anger, and stalks towards the guy with heavy steps, nearly stumbling over a nearby bench.

“Good for you genius. We have to go.” Quinn snipes. Her hand locks around Santana’s forearm. With difficulty, Santana keeps up with the swift pace with which Quinn moves through the maze of tables and drunk, fighting barbarians. The closer they get to the exit, the rowdier things become.

The tavern has been filled to the brim the whole evening. Multiple fights are breaking out and escalating. In the chaos of fallen benches, mugs flying through the air and people being pushed over or stumbling away in a drunken stupor, it is hard for two women to fight their way through the crowd. Quinn pushes herself in the slowly moving stream of exiting people, attempting to pull Santana with her.

“Wait!” Santana shouts at Quinn. “I’m missing someone.”

“Forget it.” Quinn shouts back over her shoulder. “We need to leave now or a guy unruly from fighting thinks he needs a victory prize.”

Santana looks back but her vision gets blocked by two tall guys behind her, seemingly brothers. All around her are sweaty bodies. The air smells of barf and wet, dirty clothes. Her arms are pressed to her body. If people are not careful she will be crushed like grain in a mill. The only thing that is keeping her from fully panicking is the death grip Quinn has on her.

All of a sudden the pushing from behind stops, but before she can look behind her to see what happened, a strong arm wraps around her waist. She is yanked out of Quinn’s grip and dragged backwards. She screams in surprise, then a second animalistic scream leaves her throat fuelled by pure anxiety.

Quinn was right. A burly guy who has had too much to drink thinks he owns the world and anyone in it. In order to truly feel like the king he is, he needs his little princess to entertain him. And he has decided Santana will be that princess.

Her whole body stiffens. She is a drawn bow ready to let go. This is yet another guy who thinks she is only good for one thing. His audacity is as big as a dragon and his regard for the thoughts and feelings of others is as true as the existence of gnomes – just a fable. He is a dirty pig, just like the rest of the scum that fills this tavern each night. In a blind fit of rage, she turns around and punches the guy square in the face. Then adds another punch at the nose, for good measure.

Instantaneously, the person lets go of her and grabs at their face. Then throws the hood they are wearing off their face. Two angry and confused blue eyes stare back at her.

“Santana, what the hell?”

“Oh my god Britt I’m so sorry.” Shocked, Santana clasps two hands over her mouth.

Brittany, her self-acclaimed bodyguard and partner in crime, is standing in front of her. Blood seeps from her nose and between her fingers down her chin, dripping on her sky blue tunic. It will suck to wash the blood out later.

“What did I tell you? If something happens. You find me and we take the back exit.” Brittany’s tone is razor sharp despite her the slightly nasal tone from pinching her nose. It cuts through Santana’s heartstrings. Never before has her friend ever been this angry with her, and Santana has gotten entangled in big messes.

Santana nods quietly. Even her mother’s tyrannical scolding has never hurt as much as this. She grabs Brittany’s clean, outstretched hand and lets herself be lead outside. Whether Brittany has threatened the bartender or has found a way to pull some strings Santana does not know. Regardless, they exit through a hatch in the basement through which the beer barrels are transported.

The side street is quiet. There is a light drizzle but Santana refuses to wear the cloak Brittany offers her. She tells herself it is because Brittany will need it later on, as she will face the elements face first as they ride back home on their horse, not because she feels ashamed therefore refusing any comfort.

Brittany holds her close as they walk to the stable. The bleeding has stopped, but she sports a dark red moustache on her upper lip. More smears of blood cover her chin, cheeks and hand. Santana’s ears are buzzing and the ground sways like the sea. She hopes she will not have to puke later the evening, or worse, wake up in the middle of the night and having to find a tub to puke in. Besides her obvious drunk ailment, she is aware of her exhaustion. She just wants to cling to Brittany as she rides, maybe cry a little, and lay in bed.

They do not share a single word until they reach the stable. By that time, her intensely beating heart as calmed down, and the rush and fear from the last few moments in the tavern feel like a dream. In spite of that, Santana still knows it really happened. With every step she takes, she is reminded through a growing bruise on her ass. She sighs as Brittany pulls her pockets inside out for a pair of keys.

“I’m sorry.” Punching Brittany square in the face is not something she ever thought she would do. The shame and hurt inside her do not subside. On the contrary, they keep growing. Santana knows she did something very, very wrong.

Brittany sticks the key in the lock and pushes open the heavy stable door. “I should be sorry. For stealing these keys of the stableboy. He probably got into a lot of trouble for losing these.” Brittany jingles the keys. She grabs a burning oil lamp that hangs on a nearby hook and turns it up, leading them to Fleetwood.

The gelding is chewing his hay loudly. Being the glutton he is, he attempts to take a couple last bites as Brittany pulls him from the stable. Santana watches with her arms crossed as Brittany tightens the girth. She is swaying lightly on her feet, too intoxicated to stand still. They left Fleetwood in his tack with the knowledge they would be back within a couple hours and wanting to leave as soon as possible - maybe even fleeing from a scene.

“After you, my lady.” Brittany bows elegantly as she lets Santana get on first.

A bit unstable, Santana climbs on the back of the tall, grey dappled horse. She has climbed on many a steed with a dress, but alcohol is a consistent humbler and makes even the greats question their skill if they consume enough. Once she sits secure with both her legs on one side Brittany leads the horse outside by the reins and locks the stable again. She then pushes the keys through a gap between two planks of the door.

It is as if they were never there.

Santana is staring at the stars when she feels the saddle underneath her shake. Brittany climbs on behind her. She watches as Brittany makes her red dress disappear by pulling the dark cloak over her legs, protecting her from the cold of the night. A warm hand splays over her stomach, pressing her into the squire’s body. Unconsciously, Santana chooses to believe Brittany wants to feel her close, and that it’s not an act to keep her from slipping off the horse’s back.

With the slightest pressure of Brittany’s feet, Fleetwood takes off in the direction of the castle. His heavy hooves echo through the narrow city streets, a nuisance to anyone who is not vast asleep. Santana cannot muster up enough energy to care, both her body and mind exhausted from drinking and dancing.

“I danced the whole night.” Santana mumbles as soon as they reach the edge of the city. Fleetwood steps sound muffled on the dirt. The words fall off her tongue with difficulty, the muscle too ungainly to pronounce words properly.

Brittany nudges her cheek with her nose. She hums. “That you did.”

“And, I made a friend.”

“You always make friends. You’re very charming.”

“Yeah but, she’s a real friend.” Santana turns to face Brittany, since she is sitting sideways on the horse she does not have to turn much. Nonetheless, the hand around her waist clings on tighter, making sure she does not fall off. “Like… We talked. We had a connection.”

“Sounds amazing.” Brittany deadpans, her focus on the dark trail ahead as she encourages Fleetwood to counter.

“You don’t have to hold on so tight.” The grip of the hand on her hip is bordering on painful. “I’m drunk. Not dumb. I can sit on a horse.” The grip slackens, albeit a little bit.

By the time they reach the castle, Santana is sure she is not imagining the tension between her and her best friend. Normally, Brittany would guide Fleetwood in an easy canter once they leave town until they reach the open field. From there, they would watch the lights on the castle walls grow bigger, Fleetwood walking at his own pace.

Brittany would reminisce about funny figures she saw at the bar or how she won the rigged game of dice. Santana would giggle, perhaps even laugh vehemently in that way only Brittany can make her laugh. She would ask how she did it, how does one cheat the cheater. Brittany would stay silent, and smile a smug smile that makes Santana melt like cream on a warm cake. In those moments, with her head nestled underneath Brittany’s chin as she listens and the light of the stars guiding them home, Santana feels normal.

Any sane person would argue it is extremely dangerous, two girls on a horse in the middle of an open field at night. Raiders or anyone who is uncivilised enough to attack random people could easily sneak up on them and overpower them. Perhaps it is exactly that, the fear of being raided, something any peasant on a trip fears, is what makes her feel normal. Between the castle walls, there is always one pair of eyes on her at least. Where the most vile thing that can happen is someone dropping her new gown on the floor. There, the things she fears most being Miss Corcoran’s lectures about taxes or her father finding out about her nightly escapades, which don’t seem so bad when compared to being held at knifepoint in the dark.

Besides the couple sentences they spoke at the beginning of the ride, they have not talked at all. Brittany forced Fleetwood to canter home without taking a rest, making no effort to enjoy the nighttime through laughs.

Santana feels like an intruder as she watches Brittany remove the tack and makes Fleetwood comfortable for the night. She lingers in the walkway between the stables and pretends to be busy with one of Fleetwood’s neighbours. When the horse retreats her head and there is nothing around Santana can distract herself with. She mumbles an apology.

“What?” Brittany sticks her head out of the stable she is in.

“I’m sorry.” Santana repeats, supressing her usual jeering. She never repeats an apology. She barely even apologises for things in the first place. So, if Brittany can simply accept her apology that angry feeling in the pit of her stomach will go away and they can both sleep soundly.

For a moment they just stare at each other. Brittany’s face is blank, but Santana knows she is thinking. She can tell by the way Brittany keeps tapping the handle of the bucket she is holding with her index finger. She is bothered.  

Brittany sighs deeply, closing her eyes for a moment. “It’s okay. It just… hurts.” She flashes a forced smile.

They confronted the problem, talked about it, and Santana apologised. Perhaps not in that order, but it doesn’t matter. Things are a-okay again, starting now. There is totally no reason for tension anymore, Santana decides.

“Yeah.” Santana lets out a shaky breath. “Let me at least clean you up.”

As response she gets a smirk that blooms into a toothy grin. And now Santana knows things truly are okay again.

Quietly Brittany shuts the door that leads to the kitchen. Santana lights up a discarded oil lamp and searches for some rags in drawers. Which, despite the light of the lamp, is hindered by darkness. She grabs the empty air next to a handle on multiple occasions. Once she finds a clean rag, she dips the cloth in a vat of water that stands off to the side and walks back over to Brittany who perched herself on the table. Next to Brittany is a tray covered by clean cloths, the surface of which billowed by the pastries underneath.

“Do you really think they’ll miss one or two?”

“Mercedes worked really hard on them. They’re for the feast tomorrow.” Santana puts the oil lamp on the table and brings up the damp cloth to brush of the dried blood. “Or tonight, I guess.”

“Another one of those stupid dinner parties? Didn’t you have one a couple days ago?” Brittany scrunches her face. The cold cloth uncomfortable against her skin.

“I did.” Santana responds factually. “My parents are inviting all the princes from neighbouring kingdoms and hope I like one. That way no more stupid knights die from Sapphian. Apparently she already has 110 documented deaths since she first appeared, not counting the peasants she kills when she raids the nearby towns. Half of those deaths are our own knights.”

“Never come between a dragon and her treasure.” Brittany says solemnly, then grins.

“You’re so weird.” Santana scoffs, feigning annoyance.

Brittany wraps her legs around Santana’s waist and pulls her close, locking her feet together at the ankles. “You love it.” She teases.

Santana hums in agreement. She ignores whatever Brittany is doing with her hair. She assumes the squire is braiding the strand of hair, judging by the repetitive tugging on the left side of her forehead. When she deems Brittany clean, she grabs a dry part of the rag and wipes off the damp skin.

Brittany pulls a face of disgust and lifts her head backwards, away from the dusty cloth, and wipes her lips with the back of her hand. “It’s good. You know I hate that.”

“You prefer staying wet?”

Instantly, she regrets her word choice. Brittany bursts out laughing. Santana punches her lightly in the stomach, directly in a patch of dried blood. She wipes her knuckles clean, an annoyed frown on her face.

“The gods punish immediately.” Brittany smirks. She sits back, leaning on her elbows. She has this smug twinkle in her eyes that messes with Santana’s head. She hates it, and Brittany is very much aware of that. The legs around her hips tense up, squeezing slightly in a teasing manner.

Brittany stares at her for a while. The light of the lamp reflects in the corner of her eyes and highlights a few loose strands of hair. This observation jogs Santana’s memory. She looks down to see a tiny, messily braided tuft of hair. She picks it up to get a closer look.

“You know Tina is going to brush it out in the morning, right?”

Brittany shrugs. “’s our little secret.”

For a few seconds Santana simply stares at her. “I am way too drunk for riddles right now.”

“I meant,” Brittany sits up and reaches over towards the tray of pastries and grabs two, “that only we know who ate these.” She bites into her enthusiastically, spilling crumbs all over the table and her lap. She presses the other one to Santana’s lips, waiting for her to bite it.

Santana gives her one of her ‘are you serious’ stares but bites when Brittany keeps pressing. She moans obscenely when the flavours of the icing and the berry filling blend in her mouth. She stuffs the rest of the pastry in her mouth.

“These are so good.”

“Told you we should try them.”

Santana rolls her eyes. Not knowing what to do with her hands, she plants them on Brittany’s warm thighs. “You always want a bite of everything when there is food available. You’re always hungry.”

“Yeah, but these are Mercedes’ pastries, so they make me like, extra hungry.” Brittany waggles her eyebrows.

“Weirdo.” Santana says through a yawn. She wants to touch the tip of Brittany’s nose lovingly but instead presses her finger into the cheek beside it. She frowns, annoyed with her own failure to perform a simple task. Brittany watches her for a moment, then jerks into action.

“Let’s get you to bed, my lady.” She says solemnly. Her feet untangle and drop to the side, finally freeing Santana from her leg trap.

As they sneak to Santana’s room, Santana anticipates getting her cuddle on; The only thing that will help her survive the tedious dinner tomorrow.

#wips #long live #beach hotel #my writing #glee #santana lopez #brittany pierce #brittana #glee fanfiction #fanfiction #fiction #victorian fiction #brittana fanfiction #brittana fic

[balbigalum]

hey, could you write something about cole and reader in a modern setting? where the reader is younger than him and is Aegon's best friend, and Cole being the bodyguard and stuff, having to put up with Aegon and his annoying little friend, even though he thinks she's hot he won't admit it, and for some reason he sees her shirtless and it becomes a bit awkward and at the same time there is a lot of tension, idk why am I asking this, just curious, please let it be intense and spicy

okay i had to get out of my comfort zone for this because i really think i need to practice when it comes to explicit content lol so here is my attempt

(nsfw under the cut)

Aegon’s hand shakes as he tries to type on his phone, giggles leave your lips like little bubbles waiting to be popped, both of you are beyond drunk and you are sure Aegon is under some other influence. Your heels are killing your ankles while you hold onto Aegon, he still has a small bottle of champagne on his other hand which is making the whole ordeal of texting his chauffeur even harder. 

“Just– Just call him.” You yell at him above the music and he shakes his head.

“Nuh-uh,” He taunts like a child while keeping the phone out of your reach, his pale complexion is tinted pink. “If he knows I’m drunk he is telling Cole and then I’m gonna be fucked.” He adds and you roll your eyes, he finally settles on sending his chauffeur a poorly articulated voice note, letting him know you two were ready to be picked up. 

Your drunken antics are cut short when Aegon’s chauffeur is nowhere to be seen in the parking lot of the club, instead of the short old man that’s used to drive you two around his personal bodyguard stands in front of the car. You shove your elbow against Aegon and point at the man with a raised eyebrow, Aegon looks as confused as you are.

���What? Where is Wyllam? I called him… Didn’t I?” Aegon presses, half of his sentence being muttered in confusion. 

“Wyllam was kind enough to let me know the Prince was in need of something more than just his chauffeur.” The man says, his mouth is pressed in line and his eyes look strict. You knew Criston Cole, he had been around Aegon for as long as you remembered, always picking up after the Prince, always reminding the Prince of how his mother would feel if he continued to exploit his ill behaviour. He was a looming presence, always behind you two, you were well aware he was not truly fond of you. When you entered Aegon’s life, Cole made the mistake of thinking you were some passing girl, that Aegon would quickly get bored of you and swap you for the best next thing. What Cole didn’t know at the time was that you weren’t Aegon’s little girlfriend, and that you would stick by him for a long time. 

It was a shame really, Cole is an attractive man, tough and handsome, you had always felt drawn to his black eyes and tanned skin. You often tried to offer him some fun, a beer here and there, a joyride, but he always remains serious and unmoving. He often looks at you in disgust, especially when you sport some dress that’s too short or some bikini that leaves little to the imagination, he looks strained when you walk around in nothing but Aegon’s oversized shirts, something Aegon finds amusing and even encourages. There was this one time Criston thought you were too drunk to perceive his curious eyes raking your body up and down while you sat in the passenger seat of the SVU, you don’t remember much of that night but you are sure he made some comment under his breath, something about how a girl like you should be more careful parading yourself like that. You still laugh at that every once in a while. 

“Get in the car now, Aegon, you too.” He shoots a stern look to you and you are sure he muttered “Brat” under his breath, you roll your eyes at how serious he is taking this little thing. 

Aegon crawls into the back seat and you can guess by the groans that comes from him that if he doesn’t lay down quickly enough he is going to throw up all over the car’s floor, you jump into the front seat and Cole closes both of your doors with a little too much force. The ride is awkward to say the least, Criston’s knuckles turning white with the way he is gripping the wheel, you let your window down and try to sober up, allowing the cold wind to brush your face, it does make you feel better.

“Are you having fun?” Criston asks, tone laced with annoyance, you don’t reply. “One thing is me having to deal with him, but you don’t make it easier… You’re an enabler.” It's not the first time someone accuses you of enabling Aegon or something of the sort, truth is you are sure it’s the other way around, even if nobody appreciates it you actually keep Aegon out of a lot of trouble. “Hey, princess, I’m talking to you.” He says snapping his fingers right in front of your face, you push his hand away.

“‘m not a princess.” You mumble, wanting to be done with this conversation.

“You’re not? Then why do you behave like one? I work for Aegon’s mother, not you.” He is getting mean and you can tell he is frustrated, you’re not sure why, Aegon has always been the same, it doesn't matter how much Alicent tries to change the way her son is, he will always be Aegon. 

“Fine, I’m sorry.” You snap at him, not sure what you’re apologizing for, just wanting him to shut up.

When you finally arrive at the Targaryen’s residence Aegon is fully asleep. Cole doesn’t waste any time opening your door like he often does and instead goes around the car to get Aegon, he half drags him towards the door and you follow them, heels in hand. By the time you are inside the house Aegon starts groaning and squirming in Criston’s grasp and before he can let him go, Aegon throws up. You wrinkle up your nose in disgust, some of Aegon’s vomit getting on Cole’s perfect buttoned up shirt, the rest on the floor while Aegon uses him to stabilize himself. 

Cole is not looking at him when Aegon is done, who kindly pats him on the shoulder and gives him one of those toothy smiles Aegon is known for. 

“Sorry about that, man.” Is everything Aegon offers him before walking in the direction of his room, you don’t even look at Cole, focused on following Aegon. You feel a sting of shame creeping up your body at the scene your friend caused, you help Aegon off his clothes and into his bed, he pats the place next to him for you to join him but you scoff at him.

“You’re such a dick, they’re gonna blame this on me, you know?” You tell him, even though you are well aware that he is already half asleep. Once you make sure he is not gonna choke on his own vomit you decide to make your way through the house, searching for Cole. You’re gonna offer him a small apology, something believable, you don’t want him running his mouth to Alicent, last time it happened you weren’t welcomed into the Targaryen home for two months. 

The house is quiet and big, it takes you a while to find some light coming from a room, you hear water running from one of the bathrooms and you can only assume it’s Criston trying to wash Aegon’s vomit off of him. You want to blame the alcohol still making your blood buzz or maybe your need to fix the possibility of Alicent hating you more than she already does, either way you opened the door to the bathroom without knocking, just trying to find Cole and get this over with.

Criston stands over the sink, shirtless, hair wet and pushed back, he looks tense and stressed out. His forgotten shirt discarded in the tub, he is gripping the sink with force and you can see the perfect outline of the muscles of his arms and chest, he finally looks at you. 

“Yes?” He says, he obviously pissed off, at you, at Aegon, at the fact that it’s the middle of the night and he is awake babysitting you two. “Can’t you knock?” He stands closer to you now, you can smell his cologne, you blink at him trying to find something to say.

“Sorry,” You start. “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to–” He rolls his eyes.

“You didn’t mean to what? Huh?” You shake your head at his closeness, at his tone, you try to speak again but he cuts you. “Get out, go keep Aegon’s bed warm.” He says, you gasp at his comment, red and small your anger starts to make its way up your throat, you weren’t Aegon’s whore, doesn’t matter how hard it was for his family to understand it.

“No.” You say.

“No?” He asks. A quiet, humorless laugh floats out of him as your fingers begin nervously fidgeting with the hem of your dress. You try to keep your forehead up.

“I came here to apo–” 

“You know what your problem is?” He presses. “You’re a spoiled cunt, princess.” His tone is heavy and hungry, authority clinging onto every word, you want to be offended by his statement but his gaze feels crushing. “Nobody has ever put you in your place, have they?” He says, a hand, big and strong, finding its way to your jaw, holding you there. “You’re too used to always getting what you want… It’s not cute.” He doesn’t look angry anymore, rather a smirk form on his lips, you put your hands against his chest looking for support and he makes a sound deep in the back of his throat. 

He closes the space between you too, kissing you hard, biting your lower lip and making you hiss. He starts to make his way down your neck and you feel his stubble on your sensitive skin, his left hand starts toying with the hem of your short dress. 

“You’re gonna make things even,” He mumbles against your neck. “I’m always running after you and Aegon, you owe me a little bit, don’t you think?" He says biting your neck slightly between each word, he grabs your left hand and brings it to the front of his pants. He is half hard, you gulp, feeling a familiar sensation between your legs and nod slowly. 

“I’m sorry.” You say, he kisses you again and puts a leg between yours, the friction making you feel dizzy, you can feel him getting harder by the second. 

“Yeah, I bet you are… Always wearing these dresses,” He says, snapping one of the straps of your dress. “You better be sorry, always putting up a show wherever you go.” You gasp loud against his cheek when his fingers find the inside of your panties, his fingers are thick and rough, he is a working man and it shows in his hands. The wetness between your legs makes him groan as he sinks two fingers inside of you, you let a string of soft moans out as he works you open, he knows what he is doing and you wonder how many women have laid under him. 

You’re closer to the edge now, you feel warm all over, his other hand going up your throat, fluttering his fingertips up to your mouth, dipping his thumb inside, you moan around it and close your eyes, you feel overwhelmed and pliable under the older man’s touch, and right when you’re about to cum he takes it away. You whine at the loss of touch and he cleans his glistering fingers on your dress, his other hand still holding you softly by the neck. 

“Suck me off.” He says and your teeth bite down on your lip, his hand finds the back of your neck and gently pushes you down until you’re on your knees, facing his growing bulge. You watch him as he undoes his belt and you can’t think of anything hotter, your own need making your mind feel cloudy. “You want it?” He asks and you nod. “Outloud.” He orders.

“I want it, Criston” You say, cheeks blushed, and reach his way, he pushes your hands away and you look up at him confused. 

“I don’t work for you, I’m not Criston to you.” You stare at him for a second trying to figure out if he is joking, he is holding your gaze. You swallow your pride and let the heat of the moment guide you.

“I want it… Sir.” You say looking away from him, he laughs again and finally allows you to pull his underwear down. You open your mouth for him and he guides his tip to meet your lips, you can already taste some precum, you feel desire taking over, urging and pulsing under both your and his skin. You comply when he grabs the sides of your face and you let him fuck your mouth, his eyes flash darker with hunger, you wonder how long he has been wanting to do this. How many times he locked his jaw and burned holes on Aegon’s back while he cuddled you innocently on the couch. He grunts above you, petting the hair off your face, you can feel the sting of tears on the corner of your eyes, but you don’t want to stop.

“You’re good at this, princess,” He makes a noise that sounds disappointed in a way, you try to not pay attention to it, rather focusing on working one of your hands on the base of his cock, you tease his head with your tongue and give him a kiss right on the tip. His movements become more and more erratic, and he is leaking precum on your tongue, you know he is close and it excites you. You realize his hands don’t know how to be gentle as he quickens his rhythm, he makes a small movement that alerts you he wants to pull out of your mouth and you shake your head no as best as you can around him.

“Shit, baby,” He groans, digging his fingertips fiercely into your scalp as he cums. You pull back and let him catch his breath, sweat making his perfect skin shine under the bathroom’s light. He crouches down at your height and gives you one final kiss, you follow his lips hungry, feeling your core pulsing with want, you want him to take care of you. He smiles and caresses your cheek slowly. 

“You can go with Aegon now.” He says, a smirk on his face. He walks away, leaving you there, needy and deprived, you whine dumbfounded. You do as you’re told and you go back to Aegon’s room, confused about what just happened. Aegon shifts in his sleep when you get into bed with him, wearing one of his shirts, he scrunches his nose not opening his eyes.

“You smell like sex...” He mumbles while cuddling closer to you, making you sigh deep from your chest, you hug him tight even if he smells like sweat and a bit like vomit.

#criston cole #ser criston cole x reader #ser criston cole #house of the dragon #hotd fic #anon #blurb #nsft

[writethelifeyouwant]

Made For You | Chapter 8

Summary: Dean and Sam like what they have together, and if screwing your brother screws with the universe’s “grand plan” while they’re at it, then even better. Neither of them has ever cared much for tradition or fate, but it turns out there are some destinies you can’t escape. Sometimes, someone is just made for you. 

Pairing: Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader Rating: 18+ Warnings: Incest Tags: AU, Time Jump, Omegaverse, Alpha!Dean, Omega!Reader, flirty Dean, anxiety attack, age difference, taboo relationship, scent attraction, innocent reader, Virgin!Reader, romantic reader, true mates, unexpected heat Word Count: 3k Created For: @spnabobingo - True Mates

Series Masterlist

Dean’s POV

Dean is pretty sure that that omega –Y/N– isn’t going to call him. She doesn’t seem the type, considering how jittery she’d been when she was standing in front of him. It’s a shame, really. She’s exactly what Dean’s been craving; some fresh meat to sink his teeth into and corrupt until she was cum-drunk on his knot. But apparently, the bartender, Jo, had given him a bad tip, because Y/N had practically sprinted away from him when he made his advances. The memory makes his spine prickle uncomfortably, and he wonders when he got so sensitive that being rejected by some barfly actually stings his ego. 

Is he getting too old to be hitting on girls like that? He’s never had age be an issue for him before, Dean knows he’s still good-looking, even with the few extra wrinkles around his eyes. And usually, chicks dig the age difference; they want an older man with experience, and he wants some sweet young thing who’s amenable to being taught exactly how he likes it. Secretly, he’s always hoped that if he keeps hitting on girls that look like they could be in college, one of these days he’ll run into a virgin. But meeting an omega virgin is rare these days, since sex outside marriage has become less and less taboo, and unless you meet the omega before they go into their first heat and then position yourself nearby until they do, there’s not much chance of finding anyone that’s truly unspoiled. 

Bitterly, Dean drains his beer and looks around the Roadhouse, scoping out the other patrons for any other prospects. To his disappointment, there is a sum total of zero. Switching gears to look for the bartender instead, Dean sweeps his eyes back towards the kitchen and watches Jo emerging with a tray of chicken wings that she drops on the end of a pool table for the players to pick at between shots. He raises his empty glass and waves it a bit to catch her attention, and the blonde turns in his direction, a big smirk spreading across her face as she nods to indicate she’s seen him but holds up a finger to ask for a minute. 

Dean nods back courteously and settles on his stool again with a bit of unease. What had she been smirking about? Was sending Y/N his way just a prank Jo was playing to embarrass him for making a pass at her first? Well, that’s just mean, Dean rolls his eyes as he decides that must be it. He hadn’t meant anything by it; there’s nothing wrong with wanting a little company every now and then. He’d given up the idea of relationships a long time ago, that would never be in the cards for him. Not after– 

Dean blinks sharply and shakes his head to dislodge that train of thought. He hasn’t thought about Sam in fuck knows how long. Why on earth is his little brother’s face popping into his memory now, of all fucking times? 

“Want a refill, handsome?” Jo asks, popping up from behind the bar and cracking through Dean’s now stony exterior. 

“Oh, uh, yeah, thanks,” Dean grunts, pushing the empty glass her way and eyeing the bartender suspiciously as she pulls him a new beer. 

Jo isn’t looking at him, but he can still see the smirk on her face, and it sets him on edge. She hands back the glass a moment later, still trying and failing to hide the smug smile on her face, and Dean’s spine rankles. 

“Listen, sweetheart, I don’t kno–” Dean breaks off. He was planning to tell her to shove her smug face back into her own business and leave him alone, but a chime on his phone makes him pause and look down. It’s a text from a number he doesn’t recognise, and he curiously swipes it open.

Hi Dean, if you’re still interested I’m free after my shift tonight, but I don’t finish until 11 – Y/N 

Dean blinks at his phone in surprise. Huh. He never in a million years would have thought Y/N would text him, but he’s not sorry that she has. 

“Dean?” Jo’s question brings Dean’s attention back and he looks up in confusion to see her staring at him expectantly. “Did you need something else?” she prompts him, raising her brows slightly and cocking her head to the side. 

“Uh, n-no,” Dean shakes his head, his earlier grudge against the bartender now entirely forgotten. “Nope, I’m good. Thanks, sweetheart,” he raises his fresh drink in gratitude and takes a healthy glug, smacking his lips and sighing deeply. 

“Alright, well, holler if you change your mind,” Jo pats the bar as she walks off, that same devious little smirk back on her lips, but Dean doesn’t give a damn about whatever self-satisfaction she’s getting out of playing matchmaker with her customers, because it looks like he’s getting laid tonight. He grabs his phone again and composes a reply to Y/N, not wanting to leave her hanging in suspense too long. 

Dean: Hey Y/N, definitely still interested 😊11 sounds great

Y/N: Okay cool 😊 Y/N: If the place empties out before that then I can close up earlier, I feel bad making you wait around so long 

Dean: Don’t worry about that sweetheart, I’d wait til dawn if you asked me to

Dean hits send before he even really comprehends what he’s just typed. He has no idea what made him say that. For one thing, it was corny as hell, but for another, that was a bit intense for someone he’d only met for a few minutes not even an hour ago. God, she probably thinks he’s some weird desperate freak. What if he’s scared her off again? 

And apparently, he is a weird, desperate freak, because the thought of not seeing Y/N again tonight makes his chest tighten in discomfort and his skin feel wrong, like there’s something trying to separate it from his flesh, pushing air into the undetectably small spaces between each cell and making space for… something. Fuck knows what. He’s never felt like this before. Dean looks suspiciously at his beer for a moment, brings it to his nose, and sniffs, concentrating, but there’s nothing detectably wrong with it; no scent of roofies or other herbal additives that might send his hormones into a frenzy. 

Dean checks his phone again and sees that Y/N has read the message but hasn’t texted back. Fuck, she definitely thinks I’m a freak. He scrubs a hand over his stubble in lamentation and sucks up his pride, sending another message. 

Dean: That was really fucking cheesy, can we pretend you never saw that and go back to you thinking I’m cool and mysterious? 

He waits anxiously as the tiny dots that indicate Y/N is typing a reply appear on his screen, taking another drink in an effort to rein in his nerves. Why the fuck does this chick have him so on edge? 

Y/N: When did I ever say I think you’re cool? 

Dean’s heart sinks for a split second until her second message pops up. 

Y/N: 😜

His heart swells in his chest, like it’s soaking up warmth from some internal sun. 

Dean: Okay, I see how it is

Dean: Anywhere around here actually open for a drink past 11? 

He adds the next message as an afterthought, wondering if he should be finding somewhere to take Y/N out for drinks, or if this is more of a ‘bottle of whiskey in his motel room’ kind of drink. Either option was just fine for him, although he doesn’t even have a motel room yet; he should probably fix that. 

Y/N: Well, if we stay at the Roadhouse I can get us the drinks for free? 

Dean: Well you’re definitely the cooler one between the pair of us now 

Dean texts back with a smile on his face. It feels good to flirt a little like this, shake out the cobwebs a bit. His past few hookups were all too drunken and desperate to include any of this kind of foreplay. He misses the anticipation of it, having to work for it just a little bit. It makes the reward so much sweeter, and he has a feeling Y/N is going to taste sweeter than anyone he’s been with in a long while. 

Your POV

You come back from your break completely giddy, but also massively panicking. You haven’t been on a date in over a year, and you’ve never been on a date with someone who might be your true mate before. Looking back on your past relationships now, you can see the differences in your feelings for those boys over the way you’re feeling now. Those emotions had all been in your head, they were thoughts; you could trace their origin, they had reason and motivation, there was some semblance of logic, even to the ones that had turned out to be illogical. What you’re feeling now is nothing like that. 

There’s no rhyme or reason, no clear trajectory of thought. You couldn’t explain what you’re thinking or feeling to somebody else because you don’t even understand it yourself. It’s innate, whatever this pull you’re feeling is, it’s a part of you. The desire bursting into tiny flames at the head of each individual nerve in your body is woven into the very fabric of your being. It’s feelings, not thoughts that can be spelled out with words, meaningless letters on a page that have no connection to you once you’ve written them out. No, this feeling is a part of you –just like your true mate is a part of you– the same blood whirring around two separate bodies, singing out from one to the other, automatic and uncontrollable. 

Back in the kitchen, even through all the greasy scents of truck stop cooking and Ash’s more recreational activities, you can smell Dean. You’d be able to pick him out from a crowd of thousands, you’re certain of it. Now you’ve caught his scent you’ll look for it in every part of your life – for the rest of your life. Even now, standing here waiting for Ash to finish readying the next order, you feel your body drifting towards the door in an unconscious desire to be nearer to Dean. To your alpha. You shudder at the thought. 

Dean is your Alpha. You’re his Omega. You aren’t just you anymore, you’re part of something. You shake yourself out of your reverie when Ash rings the bell to signal the order’s up, and force your brain to step in and give your daydreams a reality check. You might be entirely certain about what’s just happened, but you have no idea how Dean feels. Does he feel the same helpless pull towards you and your scent that you do towards him and his? Does he even believe in true mates? Not everybody does, after all. In this day and age, the concept is becoming more and more like a fairytale to most people. What if Dean thinks you’re just some silly child who believes in fantasies and nonsense? What if he doesn’t want a true mate who’s probably half his age? Fuck why is this the first time you’re even considering that?

You console yourself with the fact that he is at the very least interested in fucking you, despite the obvious age difference. But fucking someone and falling in love are wildly different, and you’re not naive enough to think that the age gap won’t be a factor if you pursue this relationship. For one thing, what one earth will your dad think of you? Dean is easily the same age as him, and your dad has always been the overprotective type. What if he pulls out the gun you know he still sleeps with under his pillow and shoots first, asks questions later. And fuck, does Dean even know about the supernatural? How in fucking hell are you supposed to explain that the majority of your closest friends hunt monsters when they’re not at their day jobs. 

Your head is spinning, thoughts dancing visibly in front of your eyes until they’re replaced with the image of Dean, blurry, and waving a hand in your face. You blink rapidly as your eyes try to focus on him, and you realise that while you’d been lost in your mental spiral, you’d carried your tray of food out to the dining room, delivered it to the table, and begun to make your way back to the kitchen, entirely on autopilot. You aren’t sure how you ended up on the floor with your back against the leg of a pool table though. And that’s where you are now, your knees curled up into your chest, and Dean crouching down in front of you, hand gently covering the top of your shoulder and shaking you a little, trying to call your attention back to him. 

“Y/N? Y/N!” Dean’s voice barks a little more sharply and he snaps in front of your face a few times. “Y/N, you with me? C’mon, look at me sweetheart,” he pleads, his eyes swimming with worry. His scent is different too, tinged with something bitter, and it makes you frown. You don’t like that smell. 

“Sorry,” you whisper, surprised at how scratchy your throat feels, and you don’t think Dean heard you, so you try again. “Sorry,” you rasp, forcing your eyes to focus on his face, but that’s a mistake, because this up close Dean is so overwhelmingly gorgeous you become speechless again. 

“Are you alright sweetheart? What happened?” Dean asks, hand still on your shoulder, now massaging it gently, and you find the contact is really helping to soothe you and focus your thoughts so you can answer him. 

“I-I don’t know,” you mumble, trying to figure it out. You’d just been thinking so loudly, it had blocked out everything else around you. It had happened before, but not for a few years. The last time was in high school, during your senior exams – and you understand what happened now, it was an anxiety attack. God this is fucking embarrassing. “I uh, I’m fine, it just happens sometimes,” you try to excuse it, but Dean doesn’t look like he believes you. 

“Do you think you can stand up?” he asks cautiously, and you nod. Dean pushes himself out of his squat with a groan, then offers you his hand, pulling you up like you weigh nothing at all, and you accidentally fling yourself into his chest with the momentum you hadn’t been expecting. “Woah, easy there tiger,” Dean laughs, catching you in his arms as you try to steady yourself by locking your hands in his t-shirt, very firmly under the flannel that he’s currently wearing over that one, thin layer of cotton. “At least buy me that free drink first, huh?” he grins, winking at you teasingly, and you feel every inch of your skin burn in a confusing heat – an annoying combination of intense embarrassment and even more intense arousal. With horror, you realise that you can feel something wet between your legs. 

Fucking hell, he’s barely touched you and you’re already leaking. Maybe that Cosmo article wasn’t too far off, after all. It feels like you’re…. Oh shit. You’re going into heat. Fuck. You breathe out unsteadily, burying your face into Dean’s chest and feeling your heart flutter against your ribs. 

“Alpha,” you whimper, trying to suppress your words, not wanting Dean to hear you embarrassing yourself like this. 

“Y/N?” Dean forces you away from his body, holding you at arms’ length so he can look you in the eye, and you shiver when you’re no longer burrowing into his warm scent, despite the fact that you feel like boiling water is beginning to drip through your veins. Dean studies you seriously, and you feel your lips tremble the longer he stares at you, internally begging him to feel what you’re feeling. 

“Omega?” he whispers the question, trying out the word on his lips for the first time, and you nod furiously, tears welling up in your eyes at hearing the term of possession from him for the first time. 

“Please,” you gasp, the word breaking free from your lips in a rush. 

“Okay, okay, shh,” Dean pulls you back into him, cradling you against his chest and wrapping his arms firmly around your back, rubbing his heavy hands up and down to try to dissipate some of your shiverings. “Where can I take you, sweetheart? Gotta get you somewhere… a little more private,” he hesitates over the words, like he’s choosing them carefully. 

“Behind the bar,” you jerk your head to indicate the direction, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. “Rooms to stay, for… you know, in case,” you explain sheepishly, and Dean nods his understanding, not at all abashed at the idea of taking you to a back room where probably dozens of couples have mated before you. You used to hate the idea of ending up in a position so desperate that you’d need to use one of those rooms, but now you’re eternally fucking grateful for their existence. 

“Right, let’s get you to bed, omega.” The alpha ducks suddenly and sweeps an arm under your knees, catching his other behind your back and lifting you up bridal style, marching you to the door behind the bar without any further delay, and he chooses the first door he sees, kicking it shut behind him and settling you on the bed before leaving briefly and locking it behind the pair of you. 

Series Tags: @outofnowhere82 @ladysparkles78

We’re All Mads Here: @vulgar-library @negans-lucille-tblr @fandomfic-galore @petitgateau911 @schaefchenherde @kickingitwithkirk @little-diable @laxe-chester67 @kassyscarlett @austin-winchester67 @flamencodiva @katbratsupernaturalwhore @letsbys-library @fictional-affairs @leigh70

All SPN: @cemini-winchester @akshi8278 @stoneyggirl @deandreamernp @lyarr24 @lovealways-j @slamminmine @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @alaufeyson @raidens-realm @tatted-trina6 @defenderrosetyler @cluz1babe @maliburenee

#spnabobingo #dean x reader #alpha!dean #omega!reader #smut fic #angst fic #supernatural fic #supernatural smut #wincest #omegaverse #made for you #series #please read warnings

[arixwrites]

Marcus Baker x OFC Pt. 2

So, as of right now in this lil "series" Ginny and Georgia do not exist! I just want Marcus to be semi happy and with G&G comes so much drama

Marcus Baker x Allison Littman (OFC)

words: 1k

Brodie’s parents were holding a dinner party tonight, so his basement was off limits for the group’s hang out. Allison wasn’t a huge fan of all of Abby’s friends but she was an honorary member of MAAN so she was usually forced to make an appearance. Don’t get Allison wrong, she likes to have fun. She likes to drink and smoke, just sometimes they can be a lot. Also, some of them were just full on assholes. Allison really had no idea why Abby was even friends with people like Press, Brodie, and Samantha. Tonight, the hangout spot was the Baker’s. The Baker parents were at Brodie’s parents’ dinner party and they were known to run late into the night so the house was safe for a couple of hours. Everyone was outside so the stench of the weed wouldn’t stick in the house. It was early spring in New England so it still got really chilly at night. Luckily the kids had been drinking for the past two hours, so they didn’t really feel it at this point, however, this was not the case for Allison. She was sipping on the same white claw for those two hours watching an “intense” game of beer pong. She made sure to ‘ooh and aah’ at the appropriate times so as to not bring attention to the fact that she would rather be anywhere else than on the Baker’s back patio freezing her ass off. She slowly turned around and tried to

sneak into the warm house. Max grabbed her by the waist ‘Hey, Ally! Where ya goin’? You’re gonna miss your sister beating Brodie’s ass at beer pong!’ Max was already very drunk. Allison knew this because of the smell of tequila on her breath and the way she screamed in her face louder than usual. So, she knew her answer really didn’t matter, 

‘Just going pee. I drank so many of these,’ she shook her white claw, ‘I will be right back.’ Max agreed and gave her a big wet kiss on the cheek. Allison did actually have to go pee; she just also wanted to hide out in the warm house until the Bakers inevitably came home and busted the kids. Allison really didn’t understand how the others are let out of their houses with how much they get busted for partying, but hey that’s not any of her business.

 After finding that the bathroom upstairs was occupied, Allison tried to distract her bladder by looking at all the photos and artwork on the walls of the hallway. Allison saw a glimpse of a really beautiful and colorful piece of artwork in what she assumed was Marcus’s room. She hadn’t seen him all night so she assumed that he was out with friends. The door to his room was open and Allison could not resist. She peeked her head in and what she found surprised her. 

She had never been in Marcus’s room before, only Max’s when she and Abby came over. Allison has always seen Marcus by himself or with few friends. He doesn’t stand out and it doesn’t seem like he cares to. Also, after what happened to his friend the year before Allison thought she noticed a slight change in him. So, when she saw his walls full of large sprawling drawings, in color and in black and white, she was mesmerized. She knew he could draw well from being in a couple art classes with him, but she had never seen him express himself like this. She only ever saw the stupid projects made up by their teachers. This was different. She could tell that the art on his walls was full of emotion and passion. 

The last person she ever wanted to hear spoke up behind her, ‘Hey’

 She quickly turned around, ‘H-Hey Marcus!’

He questioned her and crossed his arms in front of his chest, ‘So, what’re you doing in my room?’

 Allison was so embarrassed and when she’s embarrassed she doesn’t really have control over her mouth and body. Sometimes, in especially horrifying circumstances, she has actually blacked out and just gone on autopilot. ‘Nothing creepy like smelling your bed sheets or stealing your underwear. I’m not a creepy psycho, I swear.’  She laughed to try and soften the blow of those choice words that decided to come out of her mouth.

 Marcus actually full on laughs, ‘I wasn’t gonna go there, but now I’m actually concerned’ He dramatically furrows his brow for a second then smiles when he can’t keep up the act. 

Allison fiddles with her hair. She had never seen him smile like that before, ‘Okay, that came out completely horrible! I was actually on the way to the bathroom when I saw your artwork on your walls and I couldn’t resist coming in. True story, I am sorry, and please forgive me’ 

He nods, ‘Alright, I’ll forgive you. If you answer this question,’ He pauses and waits for Allison to agree. ‘Why aren’t you out in the backyard destroying your liver with MAAN and the rest of your friends?’ 

Allison shakes her head and holds three fingers up, ‘3 things. One: I have been petitioning a name change for years now and I keep on getting overruled.’ Marcus laughs again and she loves it. ‘Two: They are not my friends! Well, MAAN is but not the others…well, Hunter’s actually really nice, but y’know who I mean.’ Marcus nods in understanding. ‘Three: I just don’t want to. I don’t spend all my days counting down until the next party’, she shrugs, ‘But! If I say that I’ll get looked at as a freak or called a nerd or something’ Allison had never told anyone this. Ever. Not even her twin sister and she wasn’t sure why she was telling Marcus right now.

 He smiled, ‘Who cares about those assholes,’ that made Allison laugh, ‘If you want, you can hide up here with me. I have Smash Bros.’

 Allison beams, ‘Really!? That sounds great, thank you’ This isn’t the first time Marcus has seen Allison smile, since she is a generally cheerful person, but it’s the first time that it’s been just for him. He really liked that. ‘I call Kirby, though.’ 

He turns on the switch for them and looks back with confusion, ‘Kirby? Why Kirby?’ 

Allison answers him in a baby voice, ‘Because he’s just so cute I could die.’ 

Marcus laughs, ‘Sure, have Kirby. I don’t want you dying on me.’ Allison fiddles with her hair. She really didn’t think the night would end like this. Meanwhile, Marcus doesn’t think he’s laughed like this in awhile. He can’t wait for the next MAAN hang out. 

Monday Morning… 

It’s morning break, Marcus is sitting on the bean bags in Red with Silver. Together they’re going over the Chemistry lab that Marcus actually did finish. He doesn’t mind Chemistry. Silver is asking him to explain how he got the answer he did. Coming down the hallway he hears his sister exclaim a totally trivial reason why she’s going to die today along with Norah and Abby trying to comfort her. He’s ready to completely ignore MAAN as usual until he hears Allison. 

Allison is a couple paces behind the rest of MAAN half listening to their conversation and half listening to a podcast until she sees Marcus. She can’t help but smile, ‘Hey Marcus’ she waves.

Marcus waves back, ‘Hey Allison’ 

The rest of MAAN turn back and all look at Allison. Max exclaims, 'Ally saying ‘Hi’ to Marcus and Marcus saying it back?! That’s just totally normal’ Before rounding the corner of the hallway Allison looks back over to Red where she finds Marcus already looking in her direction.

#ginny and georgia #marcus baker #fanfiction #OFC #marcus baker fanfiction #maxine baker #abby littman #marcus baker imagine #ginny and georgia fanfic #marcus baker x ofc #allison littman

[desicroft02]

New Years Eve- JJ Maybank x Fem Reader

You and the Pogues throw a party and you and JJ are the only ones without a New Years kiss.

"Y/N hurry up! They're waiting for us!" yelled JJ as you walked out of the package store. "I'm coming J hold on." He took the rest of the beer from you and went to open one and you slapped his hand away. "Hey! No drinking until we get there, you're driving us back. And you promised we would get as fucked up as we could together AT THE PARTY. Not before it dumbass." The party hasn't started yet because we haven't arrived." JJ replied rolling his eyes. "Well then let's go JJ. I wanna get drunk so I don't notice the couples making out at midnight." You really wanted to kiss him at midnight. Hell, you wanted to kiss him regardless of the fact that it was New Years Eve. The Pogues new years was usually only friends, but now the group has turned to the two couples; John B and Sarah, and Kiara and Pope, with you and JJ being the only single ones. Although JJ hooks up with alot of girls so he doesn't seem to mind being single.

"So.. You invite a girl over tonight to kiss at midnight?" you asked him looking down. "Nah, I don't need to start my new year with some random girl. Besides, we made it very clear this was a Pogue only party." "Oh yeah, I forgot. Sorry." "Anyone you wanted to kiss at midnight Y/N?" he asked wiggling his eyebrows. "No not really. The boys on this island are repulsive." "You think I'm repulsive Y/N?" he asked, putting his hand on his chest. "Yes, so repulsive I can't even believe I'm seen anywhere with you on a daily basis. How embarrassing." you looked over at him but couldn't keep a straight face. "I'm sorry J, you know I'm kidding right? I love hanging out with you." you punched his shoulder lightly. "I know. You love me too much to think I'm repulsive cupcake." You couldn't help but blush a little at the nickname. JJ never failed to make you feel butterflies in your body every time you saw him.

You arrived at the Chateau and JJ walked in with some beers saying "And the party has officially begun." You smiled to yourself, bringing the rest of the beer in. "Y/N, why are you smiling so much?" asked Sarah walking onto the porch to you. "Oh I'm just excited to get drunk and hangout with everyone. It's been a stressful year." Kiara looked at you, and came up to you guys and said quietly "You sure it's not because you just were alone with JJ and you're coming up with a plan to kiss him at midnight?" "What? No.. I would never do that. Shut up Kie." Sarah and Kiara giggled and helped you carry the beer to the table. "I think you should do it. He obviously likes you." whispered Sarah. "Y/N it's so obvious that you guys like eachother. You're both just too dumb to realize it." said Kiara. Maybe she was right, she has known you longer, and for Sarah to think it for not knowing you guys for long, it convinced you a little more.

"Yeah well maybe drunk me will confess my feelings for him. Now be quiet before JJ hears." "Before JJ hears what?" John B asked, wrapping his arm around Sarah. "Nothing John B, shut your mouth." "Okay okay. So defensive." he said throwing his hands in the air. You walked over to Pope "You ready to let go for the night?" "No I'm gonna make sure you all don't get too wasted, but I'll probably share a joint with you guys. Assuming you and JJ don't fiend the whole thing." "Hey bro, you know us, always wanting to get high. Right Y/N?" he said while coming up behind you, ironically with some joints. "Gimme that." you said trying to grab one. "Not so fast Y/N. Everyone gather round so we can begin our night of fun." John B and Sarah walked over and you all sat in a "circle", passing the joint around. "To the end of a shit year?" you said putting the joint in the air.

Once the joint was finished you began drinking and laughing with your friends. It was about 10:30pm and you were on your third or fourth drink, and decided you needed some music. "Guys I gotta go get my speaker out of the Twinkie, we need some bops up in here." you slurred. "Uh, I'm gonna go get it Y/N. Where is it the front seat?" asked JJ. "No I don't know where it is, I'll go with you." you said getting up and walking out of the house before anyone could stop you. JJ followed you closely and once you got to the van you looked at him "Wanna smoke some more?" "Y/N, you're already a little fucked up maybe wait." "JJ the 6 of us passed a blunt around and I drank a little I'm fine. Come on you promised we could get fucked up." you whined. "Well.. Okay, but if I think it's too much you're going to lay down and stop for the night." he warned. "Fine. Can we smoke it out here together though? You said it yourself we love getting high together. I don't want to share."

He took the joint out of his pocket and lit it, taking a breath in. He held it up to your lips and you inhaled it, keeping it in for a minute. "Fuck." you said coughing. "More." you grabbed it from his hands and took 3 more hits of it, before putting in his mouth, with one of your hands on his chest. "Woah there, I think you've had enough. Here sit down for a minute." he said motioning you to sit in the back of the van. You sat down on the edge with your legs dangling off, occasionally kicking JJ on purpose. You were feeling the effects of the weed and alcohol now, you turned your head to face JJ and went dangerously close to his face. "You know J, we could stay out here together a little longer and you could let me have some more weed.." you said your lips almost brushing his. He breathed out "Uh, I think. I think you've had enough Y/N. And besides, the others probably miss us." he said looking at your lips.

You went to lean in but you were interrupted by Kiara yelling "Guys what are you doing out here? Is Y/N okay?" You pulled away from him, upset you couldn't kiss him. "Yeah we're coming." you said while abruptly getting up and grabbing your speaker from the front seat, walking into the house. "Were you guys about to kiss Y/N? I'm sorry." said Kiara. "No, it's fine, I have all night. Besides he probably doesn't want to." She looked down upset and you put your hand on her shoulder "I'm sorry Kie. It's okay it really is. Why don't you pick the music?" You were walking towards the bathroom when JJ walked up to you putting his hand on your back. "Hey what was that all about, why did you come in here so angrily?" he asked. "I didn't walk in here angrily, I had to pee JJ." you said. "Hm, okay.." he said walking away.

You walked into the bathroom and looked at yourself in the mirror. Your eyes were dilated and bloodshot. You started laughing to yourself about how fucked up you were, and proceeded to tweak out in the bathroom for probably 10 minutes. You heard a knock on the door, and you opened it to Sarah. "Y/N you should kiss JJ at midnight. I heard him talking to John B about you guys almost kissing outside." she blurted. You just looked at her not knowing what was going on. "Y/N are you okay? What were you doing in here?" You just looked at her responding a minute after "What. I was going to the bathroom duh. Lets go." You said pulling her away. "You guys wanna play a game or watch something? I brought cards against humanity and we have like an hour and a half left." you said looking at your phone. You sat on the floor and JJ got up from his spot and sat very close to your side. After about an hour of playing you were all a little worn out and your head ended up on JJ's shoulder. "Cupcake you can't fall asleep it's not midnight yet." he said shaking you.

"What was your guys favorite moments of this year?" asked Kiara. "Definitely meeting all of you." smiled Sarah. "Meeting Sarah." said John B. Kiara and Pope looked at each other and smiled "Growing the balls to tell Kiara I loved her." She blushed and said "Agreeing to get with this clown and the day Y/N, Sarah and I went to the beach and watched the baby turtles hatch." All of them saying being with each other made you feel awkward and upset because you wished you could say the same thing about JJ, but regardless you were happy for them. JJ looked around for a moment before saying "Just being here with you guys away from my house. And smoking beer and drinking weed." he said. Everyone looked to you waiting for an answer. "Oh, um. Getting to be with y'all and having girls days." you said smiling to Kie and Sarah. Everyone went on to talk about the adventures with the gold and how scary but exhilarating it was. Your alarm began going off and everyone looked at you confused. "What? I set an alarm for 11:55 to remind me to either roll another joint or get a shot ready to drink at midnight." "Yeah good idea Y/N. Can I join?" asked JJ.

You guys walked into the kitchen and he leaned up against the counter. "So J, what do you think? Wanna take a shot of vodka with me? I brought some nips from the house that I've been saving." He shrugged his shoulders "Works for me." You grabbed two from your bag and handed him one. You went to head back into the living room with the rest of the group, but he grabbed your hand. "JJ come on, we have one minute left." You said "Guys are you coming?" yelled Pope. JJ just looked at you and pulled you into him. "Drink with me Y/N." he said. In the background you heard the others counting down from 10, and your heartbeat racing. You unscrewed the cap and held it up to your mouth at "0" but you were stopped by JJ's lips. Your hands found their way around his neck and you pushed yourself up against him as close as you could, kissing him back. His arms went around your waist and he pulled away smiling at you. "You still owe me for the kiss in the van I never got." he said smirking.

You leaned towards his lips again "What was that kiss then J?" you asked. "That was your New Years Kiss, now come here." He crashed his lips into yours and you pulled at his blonde hair, kissing him back harder. This felt more euphoric than the weed and alcohol mixed. You didn't want to stop, but after not being able to breathe anymore, you pulled away looking into his eyes. "JJ what was that?" "Something I should've done sooner. Y/N will you start the new year with me as my girlfriend?" he asked you. "Yes I will JJ." you said standing on your tip toes nuzzling your head in his neck. "Happy new year cupcake." he said rubbing your back. You heard the Pogues cheering. "Now that's how you start the new year man!" yelled John B. You and JJ laughed "Still wanna take a shot?" you asked JJ. He poured yours down your throat and drank his simultaneously. You guys walked over to the rest of the Pogues and Kiara winked at you, and Sarah clapped. Pope fist bumped JJ "I'm happy for you guys." You smiled and said "Happy New Years guys." while grabbing onto JJ's hand.

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank fluff #obx imagine #obx fanfiction #jj maybank obx

[deobi-scenes]

anti-romantic — bae j.y.

summary | ‘sorry, I'm an anti-romantic I want to run far away. Already, my heart that chases you, burns up in a small flame. - Anti-romantic by TXT’

genre | friendship, youth, fluff

notes | sorry for not being able to post my last two entries for inktober. I was down with a flu these past few days; hopefully I feel so much better now. Will probably catch up on my entries as soon as soon as possible.

———

y/n’s POV

"babyyy, why is the world so mean to me?" I cried while chugging on my fourth bottle of beer.

"I don't know. Maybe you were a demon in your past life." Jacob replied shrugging his shoulders

"at this time, you still managed to annoy me. Wow." I said rolling my eyes at the boy who was obviously having fun seeing my dead-ass drunk state.

We were currently at the back of his car. Drinking beers and just looking at the stars, just like we always did.

I was balling my eyes out because my boyfriend or should I say ex, broke up with me for the second time.

"baby, I told you he isn't good for you."

" thanks for saying that, Captain obvious. I mean, I'm pretty. Everyone wants to be with me and yet he has the audacity to break up with me. TWICE." I said

just then, a wild idea popped in my head.

"baby, let's go get tattoos."

he just raised his eyebrow at me and started picking up the empty beer bottles laying on the ground.

"go, inside."

somehow, we ended up on the tattoo shop that his bandmate, Kevin goes to.

" so what would it be?" the tattoo artist asked us.

We look at each other and giggled.

"pear!" we both shouted

"okay... you're call man." the tattoo said before asking me to sit on the chair.

Jacob and I decided that we would place it on our ribs. One, because I was too afraid to get it elsewhere and second, if he is seen with a tattoo, the management and the fans would go crazy.

After minutes of arguing, I finally persuaded Jacob to go first because I was really afraid.

When it was my turn, just five minutes into the session, I was screaming so loud that Jacob had to hold my hand.

"baby, why didn't you stop me." I cried

"baby, you wanted this remember."

"can I ask you guys something?"

the tattoo artist suddenly spoke making the both of us look at him.

"sure, hit us up dude." Jacob replied

“are.....you guys dating?"

We both bursted into laughter while the tattoo artist stared at us like we're maniacs.

“no, dude. You can take her if you want." he teased

“Really Jacob?” I said rolling my eyes at him. “Well, Hmmmm, how do I explain this. We're not dating nor do have romantic feelings for each other. We're best friends-more like brothers and sisters but not blood related."

"but you call each other..... baby?"

" You know how famous Jacob Bae is. Fans call him all sorts of pet names, babe, baby, angel and all sorts random shits. I got jealous so I joined the trend. Isn't it right baby?"

Jacob only nodded his head in response. Totally buying my answer.

———

Jacob’s POV

"Isn't it right baby?" I nodded my head and looked at the girl who was dead ass drunk but still managed to get a tattoo.

"I'm sorry if I ask too much but seriously, I thought you guys are dating. You look good together."

the artist said making y/n smirk.

"hun, I look good with or without Jacob. But for the record, I never saw myself dating him. I want someone like him but not him, do you get what I mean? Besides, Jacob will rather put me up for auction than date me. Plus, have you seen their fans? They're scary people." She said imitating a tiger.

I chuckled at her depiction and finally her tattoo was done.

" look!"

She excitedly said pulling me towards the mirror and showing me her new tattoo.

" sure you won't regret it anytime soon?"

I asked her knowing that when she gets sober, she will scream her lungs out for the outrageous permanent ink on her body.

"I won't." she said not paying attention and repeatedly touching and wincing in pain.

"pabo.' I said looking at her.

I went over to the cashier and paid the tattoo artist.

"you’re in with love her, don't you?" he suddenly spoke catching me off-guard

"no.....?" he just chuckled at my response and pat my shoulder.

"whatever you say man."

Here's the thing. I do have feelings for y/n but I was afraid that if I blew it up then it would just taint our friendship.

Hence, I made my decision to stay just the way we are now than lose her forever.

#the boyz imagines #tbz imagines #the boyz fanfic #tbz fanfic #sangyeon #jacob bae #younghoon #hyunjae #juyeon #kevin #new #q #ju haknyeon #sunwoo #eric sohn