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schmidtsbimbo · 4 months

Note

if you’d like to you should def do a ethan x reader where the reader has a super shitty boyfriend and is enemies with ethan, making fun of him nd stuff like that

so what if to get back at the boyfriend, ethan fucks the reader and in like the middle of it ethan whips out his phone/her phone and calls the readers boyfriend, making him listen to her whimper/whine ethan’s name 😛😛

★Jealous Boy - Ethan Landry ★

𖦹Warnings: MDNI 18+, afab reader, unprotected piv, cunnilingus, cheating, pet names, hair pulling, fingering, slight dumbification if you squint

⋆｡°‧Requests are open! Comments and reblogs are welcome and appreciated ♡

―୨୧⋆ ˚A/N: i love you for this idea anon, i kinda hate everything about this especially the ending, hope this still turned out okay! , made this so much longer than I originally planned or wanted to, pls let me know if i missed any warnings!

Word count: 1.9k

This has not been proofread^_^

Just hours ago you were arguing with your boyfriend at a stupid frat party you never wanted to go to in the first place.

Now you’re standing here in your kitchen, breath hitched in your throat as you stare at the man above you.

Pinned between his body and the dining table, his arms completely closing you in.

You look down, eyes landing on your phone that’s in his hand as watch message from your boyfriend coming in.

You hear a short and dry laugh come from the man above you as you move your eyes between him and the phone.

“Look at what a fucking loser you’re with y/n” Ethan says as he moves his arm, turning the phone towards you so you can read the messages.

You stare at the messages before you look up at Ethan, the sight of him smirking above you making you lightheaded and weak in the knees.

You stay quiet for a moment and get a split second of clarity as you look away from him.

“We shouldn’t be doing this Ethan” You say, voice full of doubt as you look back up at him.

You feel a shiver go down your spine as he inches closer to your face, his lips brushing past your cheek as they hover over your ear.

“I still don’t understand why you chose him when I’ve been right here” he whispers, lightly nipping at your ear and sending goosebumps down your entire body.

You stand there completely frozen, trying to form a single coherent thought as your chest is rising and falling trying to control your breathing before you feel his lips smashing against your own.

You let out a small shriek at the sudden impact but quickly sink further into it, making Ethan smirk into the kiss as he places his large hands onto your waist, pulling your lower body towards his.

He breaks the kiss and trails kisses down your neck as you part your lips at the sensation.

“Jump” he simply mumbles against your skin before he brings his lips back to yours.

You instinctively jump into his arms and let him lift you up, placing you on the table and never breaking the kiss as you spread your legs, letting himself position himself right between them.

He starts to trial soft and sloppy kisses down your neck, his hands running down your body as they reach the top of your jeans, tugging on them lightly as you eagerly lift your bottom off table with your hands, making it easier for him to slide the jeans down your legs till they’re discarded somewhere behind him.

Ethan’s lips make their way back up to yours, completely engulfing them like a starved man as his hands find their way to your chest, his thumbs rubbing small circles against the peak of your breasts, earning a small whine from you as your hands make their way up his shoulders and wrapping around his neck.

He breaks from the kiss and drops to his knees, grabbing your legs with his hands and pulling you closer to the edge of the table, your clothed heart right in front of his face as he lets out a groan.

“Just as pretty as I imagined” he says looking up at your face as he brings his hand up to your core, rubbing small circles onto the bundle of nerves under your soaked panties, making you throw your head back and hold back at the sensation.

His words send jolts of electricity and need straight to your core as you bite your lip, trying to refrain from letting out a whiny gasp.

He smirks at your reaction and starts planting slow and soft kisses up your thigh, almost torturing you with how slow and delicate he was being before he finally reaches your core, moving his hands from your thighs to the top of your underwear, ripping the fabric from your body with his bare hands and instantly diving his head between your thighs.

Giving you almost no time to react as he licks a flat stripe up and down your folds as you let out a gasp and throw your head back, your reaction making him smirk as he wraps his lips against your clit.

“Look at me” he mumbles against it, roughly sucking on your clit as he hooks his arms around your thighs to keep you in place.

You let out a whiny moan at the harshness against your clit and bring your head back up to look down at him, your hand reaching down to his curls and gripping them as you watched him eat you out like you were the most divine thing he’s ever tasted.

You tug on his hair again, making him groan against your clit, the vibration of it making your brain foggy as the feeling of desire in you continues to grow.

“Ethan” you moan out as you involuntarily buck your hips up, earning another groan from Ethan as he tightens the grip on your thighs, the thought of his fingers leaving bruises on your thighs threatening to send you over the edge.

You try to hold it together as you try to form a single sentence, not being able to let out a single word but a pathetic whine, “Ethan, please”

At this he pulls away for a moment, your sleek making his lips shine as he looks up at you expectantly.

“Please what, baby?” He says as he leans back in between your thighs, planting a soft kiss directly on your clit that makes you buck your hips again, a small moan escaping from your lips, earning a chuckle from him as he pulls away again and looks back up at you.

“Use your words, princess” he whispers as he loosens his grip on your thighs, his lips hovering above the skin of your thighs as he waits for you to respond.

You let out a whiny moan at his teasing and bite your lip, not being able to form any words from how dizzy the sight of him on his knees with his head in between your thighs makes you.

He immediately stands up as the sounds leave your lips, engulfing them in a kiss as one of his hands wrap around your waist, your hands traveling towards his shirt and tugging on the hem of it as you hear the sound of his zipper coming undone and his pants dropping to the floor.

He breaks the kiss for a second to quickly remove his shirt and you follow right behind him, adding your shirt to the growing pile of clothes on the floor.

He dives straight to your neck as he starts leaving marks and bruises all along your collarbones, his hand reaching down to your aching heat as he dips his fingers in between your folds, earning a quiet moan from your parted lips.

Within seconds you feel yourself lose control all over again at the feeling of his rough fingers rolling the small bundle of nerves in between his fingers.

You instinctively reach down for his wrist, not wanting to come undone so quickly.

“Ethan, please” you mumble against his lips as you move your hand from his wrist to the edge of his boxers.

“Please just fuck me” you finally moan out as you tug on his boxers, any feeling of embarrassment gone as it’s overpowered by the feeling of desire.

He lets out a groan at your words and breaks the kiss to plant sloppy kisses on your neck as he tugs down his boxers.

“So needy, just begging for more, begging me to fuck you” he says in between kisses as he grabs your hips with his hands, moving his head up so your foreheads are touching as he lines himself up with you.

Giving you almost no warning he slams himself into you, giving you no time to adjust to his size as you let out a gasp, throwing your head back as you feel him stretch you out in the most delicious way possible.

He quickly sets a steady pace, fucking into you fast as his arms hold you flush against his chest, making the table shake with every thrust as he snaps his hips into yours.

He tucks his head against your neck, letting out groans that instantly threaten to throw you over the edge, your own moans being muffled by the skin on his shoulders before he lets go of your body, pushing your back onto the table, never losing his rhythm as his hands hold a strong grip on your hips.

“Such a pretty girl” he says, slowing his pace down a bit, causing you to let out a small whine at the loss of friction his skin made against your clit.

“What would Jacob say if he saw you like this? Begging whining for me to fuck you?” He asks as he keeps his pace slow.

His words send waves of heat straight to your core as you claw at his arms, trying to get a hold of anything to try and control yourself to no avail.

You knew how wrong this was, cheating on your boyfriend with the one guy he told you to stay away from.

You knew how wrong it was and yet you’re crumbling beneath him, wrapping your legs around his hips, keeping a greedy hold on him as he fucks into you.

You watch him reach for something next to your head through your teary eyes, not being able to focus on what he’s holding.

“How about we call him, huh?” He asks as he starts picking up his pace again, making you clench around him as more moans start slipping from your lips again.

He groans at this and drops the phone next to your head again, quickening his pace as you start to unravel beneath him.

You hear the phone ringing and Jacob picking up within seconds, you no longer had any control over the noises you were making as the moans freely fell from your lips, not caring if Jacob or even the neighbors could hear you at this point.

You hear muffled yelling coming from the phone that gets completely tuned out with your moans and Ethan’s breathy grunts, letting out a small gasp as he grabs one of your legs and throws it over his shoulder.

Your eyes widen at the sudden change of angles as his tip brushes right against your sweet spot, making yo feel lightheaded as your climax is approaching fast.

“C’mon, let him know who’s got you this needy and whiny” Ethan says in between grunts and breathy moans, the words spilling from his mouth earning a whimper from you.

He reaches one of his hands up and tangles it in your hair, slightly lifting your head from the table as he grips your hair.

“Hmm? Too fucked out to talk?” He asks as he leans down to whisper in your ear, his words making you clench around him as you feel yourself seconds from climax.

“Ethan, I’m gonna come, please” you whimper out, not even thinking about what you say as the words leave your lips.

The pressure of the new angle and his filthy words sending you over the edge as you arch your back, chanting his name over and over again like a prayer.

His climax follows right behind yours as you start seeing stars from how sensitive you are, squeezing his arms trying to stabilize yourself with anything you can grab as he collapses on top of you with one final thrust, completely filling you up with his warmth.

You slowly start coming to your senses as the high starts to fade, becoming aware of your surroundings as the muffled yelling coming from the phone starts playing in your ears again.

Ethan gently lifts himself off of you and pulls out slowly, causing a small whine to fall from your lips at the loss of contact.

You watch him as he grabs the phone from the table and puts it up to his ear, a smirk playing on his lips as he lets out a chuckle before throwing the phone back onto the table.

He leans down and pulls your bruised and swollen lips into a kiss, breaking away from it as he puts his hand on the back of your head, placing your foreheads together.

“You don’t know how long I’ve waited for this.”

#ethan landry #ethan landry x you #ethan landry x y/n #ethan landry fic #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry smut #jack champion fic #jack champion #ethan landry scream #ethan scream 6 #ethan landry x fem!reader #ethan landry x female reader #scream #scream vi #scream smut #scream fanfic #Rosie writes ―୨୧

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wearywinchester · 1 year

Text

Wrong Turn

Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: When a fight with Dean leads you to take a breather, what was supposed to be a quick walk turns into something more.

Requested by Anonymous: “Hi <3 Can you write a Dean x Reader, they are in a relationship but they have a nasty fight one night, reader goes outside for a walk to take a breath but there is a storm and it's raining bad and she just gets lost and Dean freaks out when she doesn't come back? Angst and fluff please.”

Warnings: angst, arguing, swearing, mentions of blood, injury, anxiety, fluff

Tempers were well beyond their limit, a seemingly ongoing theme of the entirety of that day, stretching all the way through to that evening. Dean’s anger was never a surprise, not when it came to those that he held closest to himself. He can’t help it, never could. He gets himself so tightly wound with the ever growing desire to keep everyone safe, to keep everyone no further than arms length. He gets himself so worked up that he bursts, let’s that anger gush out of him in bouts of swearing and strings of words he almost always regrets later.

Tonight was no exception, not even close. It just might’ve been the worst fight the two of you have had in quite some time.

“I can’t believe you,” Dean says behind you, the motel door slamming shut faster than you can turn around to see him shove it closed with his boot.

“Believe what, that I did my job?” You say.

He was fuming, you could hear it in his voice. It was gruff and his words were sharp, an edge to it that wasn’t present most of the time. There was no humor, voice of that sweeter side you’ve always loved. It was filled with anger and frustration, deepened with irritation.

He chuckled, empty and humorless at the words that fell from your mouth and into the tense space. Did your job. To him, that was quite possibly the most ridiculous thing you could’ve ever said in your life given the context. The stupidest even.

That chuckle was so beyond bitter as he looked at you with a narrowed stare, those beautiful green eyes the angriest you’d ever seen them. Not at all soft as they most often were, not at all gazing at you with an adoration you can never ever fathom comes from looking at you. That loving gaze is replaced with the utmost of frustration as he stares you down, brows knit together.

“Doing your job? That’s what you’re calling it?” He says, laughter in his words as he tosses his duffel bag on the bed harshly, some of its contents spilling out of the half zippered opening. “Since when is putting your ass on the line to lore a damn monster a ten times stronger than you doing your job?”

You roll your eyes at his words, at the way he raised his voice. You wanted to say you couldn’t believe what you were hearing but that��d be a lie. It was Dean Winchester after all, you expected it.

“We hunt monsters for a living, Dean. Did you think I was just going to sit back and watch it kill somebody else? You would’ve done the same thing if I didn’t beat you to it,” you argue.

His cheeks were tinged a soft shade of pink, only making the freckles spattered on his cheeks and across the bridge of his nose all the more noticeable. Dean doesn’t flush, not unless he’s angry, not unless he’s pissed. And there he stands, pink and rosy with his jaw tensed as tight as ever as he looks at you, looks at you till he can’t anymore in an effort to calm himself down.

“I wouldn’t do something that damn stupid,” he says, his gaze returning to you.

“You would and you have, Dean, don’t give me that,” you say, watching his top lip quiver in anger. “Every hunt you do something reckless and stupid and everyone’s supposed to be okay with your self sacrificing way of handling things because you think you’re doing what’s best. You always put your ass on the line in a million and one different ways, but when I do it it’s stupid? That’s a load of crap and you know it, Dean.”

You’ve raised your own voice now, watching his chest rise and fall heavier and heavier as he wipes his hand over his mouth.

“Y/n—”

“No, tell me, Dean. How is that fair?”

“You don’t—”

“How is it fair, Dean?” You’re damn near yelling, body tense and the pit of your stomach filled with a heat that travels to your cheeks, burning hot as you swim in your anger.

“You can’t just go running around painting yourself as bait every chance you get. You don’t know what the hell you’re getting into, and you damn sure don’t know what you’re doing,” he counters, his gaze unwavering.

“Don’t know what I’m doing? I’ve been in this nightmare of a gig just as long as you have, and I’m still swingin’. Don’t you dare say that I don’t know what I’m doing,” you say.

You’re livid, cheeks on fire as you stare him down, finally thinking to release the handles of your duffel bag that’d been trapped within the tightness of your grasp long enough for your hand to be sweaty, long enough that your fingernails left crescent shaped indentations on your palm.

“God, do you even hear yourself when you talk, Y/n?” There’s that bitter laugh again, humorless as he rubs his hand down his face.

Now it’s your turn to laugh, an action that pulls his gaze back to you.

“Then maybe you should look in the mirror, Dean. Tempting your own fate and looking death right in the face seems to be your thing,” you retort, watching his brows scrunch even tighter together.

His lips part, finger raising to point at you with a slight tremble before it drops back to his side and he’s almost at a loss for words. Almost, as he shakes his head.

“You know what, Y/n? I’m not the one with a damn gash on my forehead. I’m not the one walking around with a torn off piece of my flannel tied around my hand to stop the bleeding. I’m not the one walking around, doing a piss poor job hiding a freaking limp because I’m too damn proud to admit I did something stupid. So tell me, Y/n, is it really just my thing?”

Your chest was heaving at this point, whole body trembling with adrenaline as you stare up at him with as much anger as you could muster. You could feel that strain in your throat, that horrid soreness that came with the ever difficult battle to keep that lump from rising and allowing your voice to break. That stupid lump that accompanied the tears that pressed so adamantly behind your eyes that it burned, that it stung.

He had you angry, blood boiling as you stood there in front of him. He was no different, standing there with a jaw clenched so tightly you thought his teeth would damn near crack. He had a certain anger in his eyes, anger mixed with something you couldn’t quite place as you stared him down for as long as you could muster.

He always knew how to poke and prod, get under your skin. He was stubborn more than anyone you’d ever known, probably more than anyone that could exist. He was Dean Winchester.

“You’re a dick, Dean,” you say, all the venom and hurt you can muster in those four words. As much as you could even though it felt like your throat was on fire. Felt as though barbed wire was woven around it from all the built up pressure of the tears you’re trying to hold back to keep him from seeing.

There’s that laugh again, that same bitter laugh as he hears your words.

“Yeah? You act like you’re so tough, Y/n, like you’re the best damn hotshot hunter there is. You act like you know everything and you sure as hell don’t so get off your damn high horse before you do something even more stupid and get yourself dead.”

He was shouting by this point, brows knit and eyes narrowed as he stared at you with twice the anger than a minute ago and he was only met with the same look. The very same apart from the welled up tears and the wobbly lip you sunk your teeth into to try and hide it the very best you could. You couldn’t.

You couldn’t keep your facade up, not in front of him. You never could. It was damn near impossible as you stood there until you couldn’t anymore, spinning on your heel. You brushed past him, shoulder bumping him and nearly throwing you off balance as you head for the motel door.

“Where are you going?” He asks, his tone incredulous.

“Away from you. What’s it look like?”

You grab the door handle and can hear him scoff as you swing it open and at first he doesn’t think you’re serious, not as he chuckles and shakes his head, maybe to egg you on even.

He doesn’t think you’re serious even as you slam the door shut behind you, and maybe not even for a few minutes after that. But after that few minutes it doesn’t seem so funny anymore, it never did, especially not when you didn’t walk right back in. He doesn’t think it’s funny when he swings that motel door right back open to find the parking lot empty, the Impala void of your presence—to find you nowhere to be seen.

He stands there for a moment with a clenched jaw, anger pulsing through him that’s rapidly redirecting towards himself. But he simply steps back into the room and slams the door shut behind him so hard it rattled. Ran his hands through his hair and drug them down his face.

But he doesn’t move, too steeped in his own anger to go on after you as you walked along by yourself in an effort to cool yourself down.

It was cold out, that steady drizzle still coming down but bearable enough to keep on walking away from that motel and away from the man that’s got you all fired up.

Your cheeks were heated and your heart was still pounding. That horrible pressure behind your eyes of unshed tears had finally broken loose, hot tears rolling and mixing with chilly raindrops on your skin. Your face was scrunched in a way you couldn’t help even if you tried as you let them out, frustratedly wiping them away as if there was still a chance of the older Winchester seeing them.

You loved him, but god, you hated him sometimes. He was too protective for his own good, too angry. He’s got you so wound up you don’t know whether to scream, cry, or never turn back to that motel room again. Or perhaps all three. But you know you’d never actually run off. That may be exactly what you’re doing right now but you’d always find your way back to him.

He’s got a heart of gold but you’re too damn pissed to want to think about that right now.

He’s in that room by himself, Sam in the room next door. He’s in that room stewing in anger and regret for the things he’d said out of that anger. He’s beating himself up for that unshakable habit of saying things he comes to regret. He wants to rip that motel room apart, wants to go looking for you. He wants to do it all but instead he sits on the edge of that squeaky motel bed for a matter of seconds before he gets right back up again, splashing his face off with cool water in the bathroom sink. But instead he stays in that motel room, his remaining anger leaving him spiteful before that guilt trickles in.

It’s cold, damn it’s cold as you walk along the tattered sidewalk. The pavement is cracked and crumbling away at the edges, gravel spilling over from old parking lots you pass by. You’ve got no idea where you’re going, and no idea where you are. Of course you don’t, you’ve never been to this town in your entire life and it’s near in the middle of nowhere.

You were wandering around this little town and it quickly began to feel not so little as you continued on in a direction that surely wasn’t towards that motel.

Your heart was beating a mile a minute and you were almost too angry to care about your surroundings. So worked up that you felt damn near invincible, didn’t really care about any threats because that anger was enough of a driving force to keep you safe.

But that couldn’t be farther from the truth, not even a little. Because deep down, under all that anger, you realized maybe this wasn’t the best idea.

He’s an idiot. He’s such a damn idiot that you almost couldn’t bear it. He always did this. He always tried to bench you, to hold you back on hunts. He always tried to jump in and save the day, always stole your thunder. He treated you like some rookie hunter that constantly needs a watchful eye, that constantly needs to be supervised like you don’t know what your doing. He acts like you’re some rookie hunter that couldn’t go two seconds on their own without getting into some life threatening situation.

He acts like it’s the end of the world when you step in, when you do something risky for the sake of keeping people safe. He blows it so far out of proportion, makes it seem like you couldn’t possibly do anything more stupid when he does the same and more. He does the very same every single time without second thought, but when you do it, there’s no greater crime to commit than doing your job.

He was so hypocritical it drove you insane.

You were a mess of emotions, fury and upset knotted in the pit of your stomach. It burned and it sat heavy, made you want to scream till your throat was sore. But you decided against it, didn’t want to draw attention to yourself more than you already felt you were as you walked alone through the empty street.

Your chest felt tight, your frustration having you ready to burst and that even felt like it wouldn’t be relieving enough. It felt like your emotions were too big for you to handle.

You were angry, you were pissed. You felt everything all at once, all of it as the wind picked up. It was more than noticeable as the gusts took your breath away for a moment, distracting you for just a second.

You knew the weather was bound to worsen, you saw the flashes of lightning beyond the street lights. You heard the low rumble of the thunder that followed it. It wasn’t until the drizzle of rain picked up to a steady pour that the storm you knew was brewing was fully there. You were caught outside and damn near lost in the middle of a freaking storm.

Unbeknownst to you, Dean was worried, of course he was. He’d be worried even if there wasn’t a stupid storm letting loose.

God, you hated him sometimes, but you loved him too.

You were stubborn as hell, stubborn enough to let yourself walk along a bit further and doom yourself even more. To keep on going and getting yourself even more lost and upset as the tears on your cheeks mixed with the rain. You walked until you wore yourself down and it took some doing, your anger took some work to wear away as you stomped along.

You walked until you gave in, till you caved.

It’d been who knows how long as you ducked under the overhang of a small store, digging in your pocket for your phone.

12:47 am.

It’d been forty-five minutes. Forty-five minutes of stubborn spite and being far too angry for your own good. Of being so stuck in your own head you didn’t stop yourself from getting into danger, but maybe that’s just what you do.

You held your phone with a shaky, wet hand, scrolling through your contacts before highlighting Dean’s name. Just the sight of it had your stomach churning, that burst of emotions flooding through you but you hit call anyway, pressing the phone to your ear.

It rang once, twice…

“Hello?”

No matter how angry you were, you couldn’t deny the rush of relief that washed over you at the sound of his voice.

You didn’t answer right away, a few quiet moments passing.

“Dean—”

“Y/n, where the hell are you?”

“Hello to you too,” you say, and you didn’t even need to see him to know he wasn’t amused.

“Now’s not the time for games,” he says.

“Like you care,” you mutter, more to yourself than anything but he still heard it.

“I called you seven freaking times, Y/n. Don’t tell me that crap,” he says, and you can hear the sheer anger and frustration in his voice, a little impatience mixed in there too.

You pull the phone away for a second, catching that number seven right beside his name. Dammit.

You simply sigh, get all quiet for a moment or two as you stand there with your free arm wrapped around yourself, foot tapping against the wet ground.

“Y/n, where are you?” He reiterates.

You’re still quiet for a second, biting your cheek.

“I don’t know,” you admit softly, swallowing.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” He says incredulously.

“I mean I don’t know, Dean. We’re in a town we’ve never been before in the freaking boonies, what do you think?” You say louder, quieting back down and shrinking back against the wall at your outburst, trying to hide from any unwanted attention.

“Landmarks, Y/n, gimme landmarks,” he says, tone a little softer.

You hum softly as your eyes dart around, searching for the most helpful piece of information you could find.

“Dave’s. Dave’s Bar. Uh…a diner across from it too,” you say, wincing at the sudden crack of thunder.

“I’m on the way. And please, for the love of god, stay put. Don’t go wanderin’ around or I swear I’m gonna freakin’ lose my damn mind,” he says.

“Dean, I—”

There were those three beeps, those familiar three beeps followed by the stupid dead battery symbol. That fear in the pit of your stomach heightened, and you’re banking on Dean’s ability to find his way around because there’s no way in hell you’re stepping foot into that bar to use the phone. That just might be the stupidest thing you could do second to walking out here in anger by yourself in the first place.

That familiar sense of panic settles deep within you, heavy as you bite the inside of your cheek. In a matter of seconds you quickly find that you no longer wanted to storm off and go wherever your feet take you. You no longer wanted to walk farther away, not even a single step. You wanted to do none of that.

You wanted to be inside that Impala where you know it’s safe, hell, you wanted to be in his arms because that’s even safer. But instead you’re stuck outside in dodgy weather all by yourself, with no one to blame but yourself.

You had entirely no idea how far you were from that motel room, let alone where exactly you were. It could have been a much shorter drive for Dean than it was a walk for you, it had to be. But then again, you guys were in a town you’ve never been to, and he could only guess based off the information you gave him.

Worry ran circles in your mind, lap after lap that he wouldn’t find you, not for a while. Or even worse, that by the time he did, you’d have been snatched up by a crazy monster or an even crazier human being.

It made that dizzying feeling send waves through your chest, quickening your heart beat as you paced in the same spot. He told you not to move, so you shouldn’t. You shouldn’t, but you felt like a moving target the more you lingered in the same area. You felt like eyes were on you and you just couldn’t see them. It was unnerving.

He told you not to move, so you shouldn’t.

You sat on the nearby bench before realizing how soaked it was, not that it really mattered. But you stood back up in a huff, lifting your hands to your face and brushing away your wet hair.

You did something stupid, of course you did, but you’d never tell him that. Sure, getting some fresh air was always a good idea when arguing, gives a chance to cool off and clear your head. But not in the middle of the night when a damn thunderstorm is about to break loose.

You were being reckless, thinking in the heat of the moment and acting on it as people so often do. As Dean so often does. You dug your own grave and now you have to lay in it as you stand there with chattering teeth and your arms wrapped around yourself to maintain the non existent warmth you had in your body.

Seconds felt like minutes, minutes felt like hours, and hours felt like damn decades until you saw headlights. You didn’t dare draw attention to yourself in the event that it wasn’t Dean—he was incredibly observant, he’d see you without it.

But you heard a distinct three honks of a familiar horn, and that relief settles over you once more. He pulls a u-turn in the middle of the wide road, stopping along the curb right in front of you as he leans over the bench seat to look at you.

He sees that look on your face, he sees your stance, he knows you’re not going to make this easy for him, he knows. You’re stubborn as hell and he loved it and hated it all the same. Hated it in moments like this.

He knows, so he does himself a favor and gets out of the car and into the pouring rain.

“Well I’ll be damned, looks like you actually listened to me,” he says, looking at his surroundings, the very same ones you’d mentioned to him on that phone call.

You hadn’t strayed too far just like he’d asked you to, you stayed put.

You roll your eyes, exhaling a larger than life huff. “Don’t get used to it.”

Now it’s his turn to roll his eyes, and that expression he’s got is far less than humored as he narrows his eyes at you. He could tell you’d still be difficult, no matter how scared or upset or truly bothered you were, you’d always be difficult first because being stubborn is what you know best. Didn’t want to show how vulnerable you were, how vulnerable you are.

“You gonna stand there all night or are you gonna get in the car, sweetheart? It’s cold and this storm ain’t going anywhere,” he says, a hint of demanding in his voice.

“Then go back to the motel if you’re so uncomfortable. I’m sure can find my way back,” you counter, brows knit together.

“Like hell you can,” he nearly yells, his frustration evident. “Don’t be stupid, Y/n.”

“I’m not being stupid, Dean,” you say, equal anger in your tone.

“Yeah, you are, Y/n. You went wandering off in the dinky town we know nothing about in the middle of the night, and you got yourself lost in a storm. You’re damn lucky I found you before some monster, or even worse, some creep, got their hands on you. So yes, Y/n, you’re being stupid,” he shouts, that vein in his neck bulging and his chest heaving lightly.

“Go away, Dean.”

That’s all you could manage to say, all you could muster. You meant absolutely none of it, not at all, but that stubbornness in you was hard to resist.

“Y/n, just get in the damn car before I make you do it myself, and you know I will,” he says, a clear warning in his words.

You simply stare at him, you stand there and stare at him across the roof of the Impala as the rain continues to pour all around you, the wind making everything all the more intense.

You stood there and watched the crease between his brows, one created from your stubbornness and his frustration. You watched as the rain had his hair sticking to his forehead, no longer spiked up or disheveled from the sheer amount of times he’s run his fingers through it in the past two hours.

You stand there as the wind and the rain sends chills over you, cold and constant. He looks like his last fuse is about to blow, and he knows what you’re doing. He doesn’t give a damn about the weather, couldn’t care less now that he knows you’re in one piece, not lost in the middle of a storm. But he knows what you’re doing.

You’re so damn stubborn, so angry at him that you don’t want to listen, even if it’s inconveniencing you. You’re so frustrated, the last thing you want to do is sit a mere two feet away from him for who knows how long. It’s the last thing you want but yet it’s the only thing you want.

Not just because you were cold and wet and miserable. Not just because you were tired and in the midst of a freaking storm. He made you so damn pissed but you could deny the comfort that settled over you. Hell, is washed through you, rushed.

You didn’t want to listen to him, purely out of spite, not as you stand there and look at that expression he’s got. But yet that’s all you want to do.

After another passing moment, you exhale a short huff and open the door, getting in the car without a word.

The leather seats squeaked as you did, as Dean did, your soaked clothing making it inevitably so. The heat you felt from the vents was immediate, comforting in contrast to the cold weather just outside. And it wasn’t long before he sped off.

You sat pressed up against the door and he very much noticed, was about ready to say something but he decided against it for this moment. Kept his tight, white knuckled grip on the wheel instead. But that didn’t keep him from glancing over at you more often than not.

He could feel you shivering, even if you insisted on sitting as far from him as you could. In reality, you wanted nothing more than to tuck yourself against him, but that spite you’ve got going on was still going.

You looked ridiculous, absolutely ridiculous sitting there like that acting as if he had the damn plague. Acting like you didn’t absolutely love the idiot sitting 3 feet away when it really could have been just one or two. You looked stupid and you knew it, you knew he knew it too.

“You gonna glue yourself to the door the whole way back to Bobby’s too?” He asks.

Exhibit A.

You exhale a huff, biting the inside of your cheek.

“Maybe,” you say, stubborn as ever.

You hear his quiet scoff, you know he’s shaking his head without even seeing him.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Y/n,” he says, glancing over at you briefly to see just how tightly your brows were scrunched.

“Shut up, Dean,” you say, quiet but he very much heard it.

He only shook his head, chuckling to himself quietly but this time it wasn’t completely void of humor. You were ridiculous.

You noticed how he turned the vent towards you, then you noticed how all of them were. Never mind the fact that he may have been cold. He pointed all the damn things towards you and that alone had you wavering.

No, you couldn’t. Couldn’t just give in so easily to that green eyed fool because he’d get all smug, let it go to his head. No matter how your heart skipped a beat, no matter how sweet the gestures were, one’s he did without second thought because he would always put you first.

No matter the cause, no matter the situation, he put you first every single time without hesitation. Doesn’t matter if it’s walking closest to the street when walking, or giving you the last beer. No matter if it’s giving you his jacket in the cold or ripping a damn piece of his flannel off to bandage you, even if it was his favorite one. He always put you first.

But you couldn’t think about that right now, you’d give in too easily. Couldn’t let him have that satisfaction because you may be ridiculous, but you you stubborn too.

What you could do, however, was scoot a little closer. Just a little bit, then a little more, and maybe you’d be damn near pressed to his side until you finally are.

“Think better of it?” He asks, and you hear that amusement in his tone.

You simply huff, displeasure on your expression as you glare up at him.

“Just cold, don’t get too excited,” you grumble, resting your head back on his shoulder as you cross your arms around yourself.

Just cold.

You were quiet the rest of the drive back to the motel, the drive that wound up being twenty minutes. Seemed like nothing, like a quick trip in a vehicle. But to walk, it felt like it was infinitely longer.

That familiar motel came into view as Dean slowed down, swinging into the small lot and right back into the same parking spot as he’d been in just hours prior.

It was still raining, still heard rumbles of thunder after flashes of lightning. The wind still blew against the car and swayed it faintly, the culmination of all three proving to be less than inviting for you to want to get out of the warmth and safety of the car and into the elements, even if it was just for a few fleeting seconds.

You scooted away from Dean as he dug in his pocket, fishing around for the motel key. He pulled it out with a smal a-ha, something that had you rolling your eyes as you push open the door.

It was quite a cold shock, actually, the weather a sharp contrast to the warmth of the Impala. But luckily Dean was just as urgent with getting inside the room as you were, though you still released your exhale just as loudly.

You can tell he’s not a fan of that action, not one bit as his jaw tenses momentarily and maybe even an eye roll. But it’s a matter of seconds before he pushes open the door.

It looks just as you left it, duffel bag on the bed, a few clothing items strewn about it in an effort to find something to wear. Though you were mid argument at the time, the action proving to be pointless and it showed.

Dean’s bag was in the same spot, unzipped and rifled through as it sat on the floor next to the bed still.

It was much warmer and much more dry than the inclement weather just on the outside of that door. But it was still tense. It was still tense and moody and damn near suffocating just as it was in the car, just as it was out in the storm. That was something that motel room couldn’t take away.

You brush past him in a huff, feeling his eyes on you as you made your way to the bathroom. You don’t care—he can look at you all he wants. He can glare, can furrow his brows, he can look as moody as he’d like but you don’t care. You most certainly do, but you’re stubborn enough to not want that to show.

You switch on the light, it’s yellow glow illuminating the small room. This is the first time you’d really seen yourself since this morning. The gash on your face, how tired you looked. How swollen your eyes were from crying, how rain soaked you were.

You looked exactly how you felt, and your reflection only made you more upset.

You were so worked up, so out of sorts, you left the bathroom all together in the huff that you entered it in. Just as upset as a few minutes ago, passing by Dean in the very same way as the first time.

He didn’t say anything, not at first. He didn’t say anything as he stood there and watched you, hands paused from what they were doing digging around in his bag. It wasn’t until you began digging in yours that he spoke up.

“What are you doing?” He asks, something more than curiosity in his tone. Something that sparked your frustration.

“Getting ready for bed, what’s it look like, Dean?” You counter, discontent in your tone as you speak.

“So you’re just gonna neglect your wounds like it didn’t happen and go to bed?” He says.

“Yes, Dean, that’s exactly what I’m doing.”

You continue to rummage through your belongings, not fully knowing what you were looking for in your anger until you spotted a shirt to sleep in. Of course it was one of Deans—you haven’t worn your own clothes to bed for quite a long while. It wasn’t going to change just because you were fighting like cats and dogs.

You dug around some more in search of your toothbrush, snagging your hand on something sharp enough to make you recoil as it brushes over your wound. You knew he saw it, of course he did. He saw most everything.

“Y/n,” he says.

You don’t respond, instead shrugging off your coat, letting it fall to the floor in a rain soaked pile, you shirt soon to follow. You could tell he was growing impatient again.

You sat on the edge of the bed and began to untie your boots, careless and rough with your actions. So careless that you gripped them with your frustration to toss them inside rather than kick them off like you normally do, the action sending jolt through your palm once more. It was a crippling wave of pain, one that had you sucking a sharp gasp through your teeth as you jerked your hand back

“Y/n,” he said, louder this time.

“What?” You ask, your annoyance evident in your tone.

“Would you calm down for a second?” He says.

“I am calm, Dean.”

He laughs again, the humor far from it once again as he looks at you.

“No, you’re not. You’re too damn busy huffing and puffing that you’re bangin’ yourself up even more than you already are!” He all but shouts.

“I’m fine, okay? It’s just a freaking scratch, Dean,” you yell, holding up your hand. It wasn’t until you looked at it, saw the fresh staining of blood on the scrap piece of flannel that you knew you were in for it. “Son of a bitch.”

“Bathroom. Now,” he says.

You look back at him.

“I can handle it.”

“I wasn’t asking, sweetheart. Bathroom,” he says.

You simply look at him for a moment or two, the very same way you did earlier when he asked you to get in the car. You look at him and see he’s not backing down, that he’s not kidding. So you roll your eyes and get up from the bed, brushing past him again and bumping him with your shoulder.

You can be pissed at him all you want, he didn’t care. He was patching you up no matter how much you fought him on it because he always did, and he always will.

You walk back in the bathroom with a short huff, the older Winchester right behind you.

“Have a seat.”

You roll your eyes. “You don’t have to tell me what to do, Dean.”

“Apparently you do.”

You glare at him, hopping up onto the counter anyway. You could tell another comment was sitting on the tip of his tongue but he chose against saying anything further on the subject.

He set the first aid kit down, flipping open its lid. His hand hovered over it for a few passing moments, as he looked over everything, pulling out the roll of bandage and the antiseptic, grabbing a moderate stack of gauze from its compartment.

He set everything down and laid it out on the counter before returning his focus to you. He grabbed your hand gently, so very gentle in contrast to his temper. He held your hand in his and turned it so your palm faced upwards. He let go momentarily to untie the knot in the fabric around it, requiring a little extra work from how tight he’d fastened it earlier. But soon enough he got it, loosening it up.

When he pulled away the fabric to reveal a nasty scratch that’d been plenty smudged with crimson, you lifted your gaze to see his expression. You saw the tension in his jaw, saw the way his brows pulled together in displeasure. You saw it all while you felt the gentle caress of his thumb over the heel of your hand.

He got caught up in staring for a few more moments, noticeably so, and he cleared his throat. He snagged some gauze and the bottle of antiseptic, opening the plastic cap with a flick of his thumb. He tipped the bottle over and squirted the clear liquid on the gauze, grabbing your hand once more.

He looked at you briefly, long enough to make sure you met his gaze as if to offer a wordless warning. He drizzled some of it directly on your hand, the sensation cold and stinging almost immediately and you half make an attempt to pull from his grasp but he tightens around your wrist gently, just enough to let you know he wouldn’t let you recoil.

He waited a few moments before taking the dampening gauze and dabbing away the excess liquid, tossing the dirtied material aside in favor of grabbing fresh ones.

Your hand was tender as he wiped away the blood, making sense of what he was working with ones he got it more cleaned up. It was red and irritated, hand throbbing from all the fuss and handling of it that you so desperately wanted to be over. So much so you began to squirm and continue to try and recoil.

It was no use.

You were relieved to see he’d been done with the liquid torment, for now at least, grabbing the roll of bandage. He’d laid down fresh, dry gauze first, peeling back the edge of the roll before he began wrapping it around your hand. He was gentle throughout the process, gentle despite being so horribly the opposite just hours earlier. He’d always take care of you.

His thumb brushed over the fresh bandage for a few moments, his gaze shifting to your cheek. You knew what was coming next.

“Dean, I can take care of the rest,” you interject, watching him nearly roll his eyes.

“I’m sure you can, but I didn’t ask you to either.”

You huff once again and roll your eyes, looking the other way when he grabbed more dampened gauze from the counter.

You felt his finger under your chin, redirecting your gaze to him so he could see better. You struggled to keep from moving, the anticipated pain having you trying to get yourself situated, shying away from that damn antiseptic in hopes he’d just call it a day.

Of course he wouldn’t.

“Dammit, Y/n, would you hold still?” He says, patience thin as he rests his hand on your cheek and redirects your gaze once more.

You heave a heavy sigh, shoulders slumping a little bit as you allow him to, eyes narrowed as you look up at him with all the annoyance you could muster. You didn’t want to hold still, you wanted to dig your heels in and do the exact opposite of everything he said. You wanted to piss him off even more because you were still angry, still upset with him.

You gave it a valiant attempt, tried your hardest and it lasted you a little while as you sat there on that counter. But with the way he’d been cradling your face in his hand, the way his thumb brushed back and forth across your cheek almost absentmindedly. It was hard to keep your irritation in place.

“He really gotcha good, huh sweetheart?” He asks, tone much softer than moments ago but that anger was still very much there. Not at you, but at the damn thing that put its hands on his sweetheart.

It’s like a burning feeling in the pit of his stomach, sitting heavy as a damn boulder there, getting heavier and heavier with each passing minute the more he allows himself to think about what happened, what could have happened.

He always does that to himself. Always keeps himself up at night. Lays there and let’s one scenario after the next plague his mind on things that could happen to you, things that could happen to Sammy. Things that could happen on his watch, trying to figure out ways to prevent said imaginary things to happen so he’s prepared for anything and everything. Things that could happen when he’s not there, even just for a split second. Those were the things that bothered him the most. Drove him insane till he got this tightness in his chest that had him nearly bursting at the seams.

He gets himself so worked up on those nights, all while you’ve got your head on his chest and you’re sound a sleep, not a care in the world for a few hours time. He envied it, how at peace you were, but it’s all he wants for you, helps loosen that tightness in his chest knowing you’re at ease. At ease while he lays there and torments himself with what ifs and things that didn’t even happen, things that might never happen.

Dean Winchester might seem calm, cool, and collected under the pressure of this hunting life. He might seem like he’s got everything under control at all times, got a plan for everything, a solution. And most of the time, he does. But he’s also got himself so wound up on the future way far ahead of him that it renders him anxious and stressed more often than not.

You simply shrug at the question. “S’alright.”

There’s that infamous eye roll he gives, that anger building once more at your nonchalance of the situation. It’s part of what’s got him so angry that night to begin with. You act like you don’t care when you really do, act like everything’s fine and that it’s just part of the job. It is, but getting hurt like that, hell, even getting just a simple scratch. To him—that’s purely like a nightmare when it comes to you.

He couldn’t care less how banged up and bruised he got, but when it comes to Sammy, when it comes to you, he gets so damn pissed he can hardly see straight.

“No, it’s not,” he says, dabbing away the remnants of blood smudging around it on your forehead.

You’re half tempted to argue in response, tell him he’s being dramatic. But you’d only be poking the bear, something you’d done the entirety of that night. But that look on his face, painted with worry and fear, you saw it and didn’t have the heart to poke and prod at him, at least not in this moment.

So you settle for a deep sigh, looking up at him while his other hand still rests on your cheek. You know part of him is being a little dramatic, you know he doesn’t need to get so tightly wound on scenarios that didn’t even happen, but pointing it out would do no good.

He drops his hand in favor of digging through his first aid kit. It’s always fully stocked, nearly jam packed to the gills with just about anything you could imagine. At every hunt he’ll stop at a gas station in whatever town you’re in, buy a box of bandages, supplies, anything he thinks he may need. He’s got this paranoia of running out, this worry he doesn’t have enough in the event of an emergency. But that worry is something he keeps to himself.

He pulls out three closure strips, tearing open their packaging. He’s careful in the way we places them, wants them to be damn near perfect, wants to add as little pain as possible to the pain he’s sure you’re feeling. Just the idea makes him riled up and angry at the thought of you hurting.

He dabs away any additional blood that formed, that cut looking a little better now that it’d been properly taken care of, leaving it to look a little red and angry after having been touched.

You continue to sit there on that counter as he cleans up, tossing the trash in the small bin on the floor right next to it. He can feel you staring, of course he can. He can feel it and confirms it when he turns back to you.

He averts his gaze for a moment as he grabs ahold of your hand, gently as his eyes glance over the fresh bandage. That very hand his shaky as it rests in his palm, his thumb brushing over the heel of it as a wordless for me of comfort.

You can see the way his jaw tenses as he looks at it, at the way his brows crease and knit together. You can practically see the gears turning in his head, working on overdrive and you know he’s thinking about what happened that day. And it’s almost as if he can read your thoughts, tearing his gaze away as if to clear his mind, shake away his own thoughts before he looks at you.

His gaze is still narrowed with that anger, but it’s quick to soften just a little when he meets your eyes.

You bite the inside of your cheek for a moment, swinging your dangling feet once or twice when you bump his leg with your foot.

“I’m fine, Dean,” you say, not so much in a stubborn, dismissive way this time.

His brows pull closer together again at the words, words he doesn’t agree with, but there’s that damn smile of yours. Soft and sweet, a little humor behind it because you’re trying to lighten the mood. All he can do is look at you, look at that small grin and wonder how he got so lucky to have you looking at him like that.

You reach up and swipe your thumb along his chin, wiping away the smudge of dirt that was smeared there. But you didn’t drop your hand, pressing your thumb in the soft dimple in his chin before you caress his cheek softly, letting your hand settle there.

You can feel his stubble scratch under your palm, can feel the tension in his jaw. But you can also feel it subside as the tips of your fingers brush over his hair as they rest at the nape of his neck. He may have been your tough guy, may have been rough around the edges, but nothing could compare to the way his gaze softened as he looked at you. As he responded to your touch in the gentlest way possible.

It worked wonders to sooth his anger, anger that still lingered and threatened to build up and tighten in his chest if he thought about that day one more damn time.

He leaned forward and rested his forehead against yours, hands resting on the tops of your thighs. He heaved a heavy sigh, breath smelling like the burger he’d had for dinner, and the beer he’d drank to wash it down.

His nose bumped against yours, and you can feel his unease without even looking at him, you know there’s words on the tip of his tongue.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he says, quiet as his breath puffs against your lips with each word.

You’re silent for a moment or two, something that maintains that unease he feels. Because he knows he gets angry, so damn angry that he acts like a jerk. Says things to piss you off in the heat of an argument. He knows it.

But it’s quick to ease when he feels your lips on his, soft and gentle, something he wastes no time in leaning into as he kisses you a little harder. He basks in every last bit that that kiss lingers, parting momentarily as his breath brushes against your lips warmly before kissing you again once, twice, three more times.

He can’t help but steal another as he pulls you closer to the edge of the counter with a grip on your hips, pulling back just enough to see your face.

You see every freckle, every single one, speckled across the bridge of his nose and splayed over his cheeks. Dotting along his eyelids and disappearing up into his eyebrows. You see the one that sits in his top lip, one that you never fail to press a kiss to, this time being no different.

You see the soft creases by his eyes, the near permanent lines of worry between his brows. You see every single detail up close and personal as you sit there and stare at him. And the way he runs his hand along your rain dampened hair, brushing it out of your face, it’s the only thing that distracts you and pulls your attention.

“Guess I’m sorry too,” you say, that humor in your tone making him roll his eyes. But the meaning, the sincerity is very much there and he knows it.

“You’re a pain in the ass, sweetheart,” he says, pressing a kiss to your forehead before spinning on his heel and stepping out of the bathroom.

“Hey!” You protest, hopping down from the counter with a fake frown that threatens to turn to a smile, even more so when he turns to look at you with raised brows. “Am I at least your pain in the ass?”

He pretends to ponder the question long and hard, lips puckered in thought as he stands there and watches you grow impatient and lightheartedly offended.

You’re about ready to scoff when he steps closer, hand reaching up to settle at the nape of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair softly.

“Always have been, sweetheart,” he says, pressing his lips against yours.

—

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#dean winchester #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester angst #dean winchester oneshot #dean winchester fic #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester fanfiction

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l0vergirlv0mit · 6 months

Text

Bags

Song to go with: Bag by Clairo ❤️

Pairing: College!Hazel Callahan x Reader

Summary: you’ve been in love with your best friend for years. Watching her date people sucks especially when one of the absolutely despises you.

Contents/warning: Switch!Hazel x Switch!Reader, fingering, oral, pet names, nipple play, cursing, threats, light? violence (nothing gory), sm yearning.

A/n: for the dorm imagine Buffy and willows dorm from btvs<3. Also reader isn’t fem but also isn’t masc but is definitely masc leaning. for my in between girlies 😘.

You alarm clock rudely wakes you up with an incessant buzz. Hitting it a bit to hard it falls off your night stand making you groan into the sunlit room. You sit up with squinted eyes not noticing that Hazel was still in the dorm. “Well good morning sleepy head.” She smiles at your groggy state.

You wake up just enough to snatch the alarm clock of the ground and punch it off. “Ughhh good morning.” Your eyes finally adjust to the light fully taking Hazel in. She was still in her pjs wearing a white wife pleaser and low waisted grey sweats. “Shouldn’t you be in class right now?” You ask her confused as to why she was skipping her morning class.

“I should but Anya had me up till 2.” She clasps her hands around the back of her neck. She still had her tired raspy voice probably having woken up a couple minutes before you. “Oh god spare me.” Suppressing an eye roll you got up from the bed and grabbed your towel, getting ready to go to the showers. Anya pissed you off to no end.

And it wasn’t because she was dating the person you wanted more than anything (maybe a little bit). It was her glares and her back handed compliments that she gave you any chance she could. How she would snap at people over anything and everything she was extremely abrasive.

Your friends tried to explain that that was just her personality but you didn’t function like that you were quiet and sweet. Both didn’t mix well so she tended to single you out. Always trying to push you out of your comfort zone by teasing and getting a rise out of you. You can barley ask a waiter for ketchup let alone defend yourself. But you refuse to tell Hazel about her behavior because she was happy. She was so sweet to Hazel and that made you most livid.

“Not like that y/n we went out for our 4 months.” She grinned at your scrunched face. “How fun nothing says I love you like sleep deprivation.” She raises her eyebrows at your grouchy mood with a soft smile still on her lips.

“Oh wow someone’s moody, anyway Josie was texting the group chat about a going to the bar tonight are you gonna come?” Hazel asks you hoping you’d say yes because you never go out. “Mmm I’ll think about it Haze Ill probably have a lot of work to do.” Hazel sighs. “Pleaseeee you never come out with us anymore.” She give you a pleading look. “I have a lot of today I’ll let you know if I’m up for it.” You giggle at her childish tone and pat her shoulder then leave the dorm.

—

You let Hazel know you were coming and put your phone down and change out of your work clothes. Your style has always been a bit more grungy and masculine only really dressing a bit feminine for special events or outings.

You put on your favorite baggy black jeans that hung off your hips so beautifully. Then put on a spaghetti strap tank top and a long sleeve over it made of black mesh and lace that was completely see through. You left your hair messy and smudged black shadow and liner on your eyes. Finishing off your outfit by putting on your black docs.

Hazel was already with the group so you drove yourself to Josie, PJ, and Isabel’s shared apartment. You found your way to the apartment door knocking timidly. You rock back and forth on your feet waiting for someone to open the door.

When someone finally does it’s her. She doesn’t talk to you directly. “Y/n is here now guys can we finally leave?” She says not letting you in yet talking to YOUR friends behind the door.

Hazel quickly comes to the door and smiles brightly at you pulling you in by your hand . “Oh wow someone’s trying to get lucky tonight.” Hazel softly says nudging you. This earns you a glare from Anya.

The group sits in the living room area to catch up before heading out. Everyone’s talking but your mind is elsewhere. You’ve always been the quieter one of the group so your lack of conversation goes unnoticed.

You can’t help but stare at Hazel and Anya. A deep grief blooms in your chest. Hazels arm around Anya protectively. Anya tucks a piece of hair behind Hazels ear and kissed her on the cheek. Hazels face becomes so soft and loving it tears you apart wishing so bad that you were Anya. Hazels hand travels to her waist to pull her closer just to top it off.

You look at Anya for a bit taking in how perfect and pretty she is. She’s so feminine and put together. She was everything you would never be. She had on a full face of makeup that was perfectly done and a dress that hugged in all the right spots. She was an absolutely gorgeous girl.

You were only pulled out of this haze by Josie putting her hand on your knee. Knowing exactly what was going through your mind. You had drunkenly told her about your 2 year long crush on Hazel in a club bathroom. You look back at her with glazed over eyes and squeeze her hand as a silent thank you.

“Are you guys ready to get wasted cause I am.” Josie announced and pulled you up with her off the couch. She looks to you and smiles trying to change the mood that’s setting in. You smile back but felt suffocated anyway and had to leave. Everyone excitedly agrees and heads over the bar.

—

This bar was THE bar all the college kids go there to find hookups and get drunk. The group gets drinks to loosen up but you decide to hold off for tonight. You let your friends make you dance their tipsy state amusing you. You move timidly at first but the encouragement from your friends has you swaying to the music.

You danced with Britney trying to absorb her confidence in some way. When Hazel comes over to playfully dance with you twirling you around and giggling. She saw your shyness and was trying to remedy it.

She made you sway with her hands on your waist. It was all friendly and playful and you were best friends so it wasn’t unusual behavior.

Nonetheless you felt your face get warmer at her proximity. Anya was staring from the bar after telling Hazel she didn’t feel like dancing. Anya really thought Hazel was just going to sit there and watch all of her friends dance instead.

Anya quickly changed her mind though. Seeing you too make her jealous. Hopping out of her seat and waltzing over to shove you away from Hazel with feigned innocence. Hazel mouths sorry towards you and it was your turn to go to the bar and watch from a far. You get yourself a coke to sip on since you would be driving later, not much of a drinker anyway.

You sit there mindlessly scrolling your phone trying to keep yourself occupied. Watching them still it hurts your chest. Hazel holds Anya close she has her face in the crook of her neck holding her from behind. It was a real sight. Especially when Hazel looked so good. Her cropped white tee and baggy jeans left just enough midriff exposed to mesmerize you.

Josie comes to sit besides you breaking your trance. “I hate her.” Is all she says and she looks from Anya to you. “Me too.” You both laugh together. “Yeah she’s kind of a bitch isn’t she.” Josie remarks pressing her lips together and furrowing her brows.

“Yeah she’s something.” You huffed and smiled brighter grateful for your friendship .That’s when Josie gets a certain look that you know to well. “You wanna smoke?” She flashes you a wide grin and wiggles her eyebrows. “Oh god yes.” You take one last sip of your coke and follow her outside.

—

You and Josie walk back into the bar in a hazy giggle. After a shit talking session that had you loosing your shit and gasping at gossip. You go to dance again and you notice Anya arguing with Hazel.

Anya rolled her eyes and says something that made Hazels face contort into hurt. Hazel says something in a pout then storms off in the other direction. “Jesus they do this shit every fucking night bro.” Josie rolls her eyes following Hazel to the bathroom. Every night? You though to yourself. You were under the impression everything was great?

The anger taking over your body doesn’t let you ponder over it more. Body moving without you telling it too, you yank her shoulder to face you. She was taller than you and definitely stronger then you but you didn’t care. The face Hazel made at Anya was enough motivation. You could’ve fought 10 frat boys and won.

“Hey! What did you say to her.” You could stand her being mean to you but being mean Hazel was absolutely not allowed. “I don’t think that’s any of your business y/n.”

She looks you up and down. “I suggest you fuck off before I tell her your little secret.” She gets closer to you only inches from your face. “What do you mean secret?” You started getting nervous. She grabs your face in her hand and looks in your scared eyes. “Your in love with her. It’s pathetic really the way you gawk at her.” Her acrylics are digging into your cheeks. Frantically staring at her in disbelief.

“Start keeping your distance y/n, Im not worried about you im just annoyed that you THINK that could happen. Like she’d ever be into someone like you.”

She let’s go of your face lightly tapping it. You feel tears fill your eyes about to break the barrier of your water line. “I-i… f-fuck you Anya.” Tears cascade down your face. Anya just vocalized your internal thoughts for the past 2 years now your sure she’s some demon from hell that crawled out to make your life miserable.

Just as Hazel and Josie come out of the bathroom they see you walk quickly out of the bar. Hazel feels completely exhausted, this was supposed to be a fun night you FINALLY agreed to have fun and hang out again.

Hazel follows you out just catching up to you when you get to the door of your car. “Y/n! Wait! Please, where are you going it’s barley been an hour?” She looks at you confused eye brows pushed together and hands on her hips. “I’m tired Hazel.” You can’t face her you can’t stop the tears rolling down.

You open the door but Hazel puts a firm hand down closing it again getting frustrated at your short response. You finally look her in the eyes and she takes you in. “Holy shit y/n are you ok?” She goes to put a hand on your shoulder but you flinch. Her face becomes even more worried than before. Staring at the streaks running down your cheeks.

“Please Hazel I just wanna go home. I’ll talk to you tomorrow ok.” Hazel moves her hand from the door and lets you open it. “We will talk about this tomorrow?” She ask you to get more confirmation. “We will.” You reassured her knowing talking was the last thing you were gonna do.

You drove back to your dorm still feeling shocks of fear pulse through you at the thought of Hazel knowing you were completely in love with her. Losing her would do more than wreck you. She’s been your best friend for what felt like forever.

Finally inside your dorm you rip your clothes off and put you pjs on as fast as you could. You didn’t bother to take your make up off and fell asleep as soon as your head hit the pillow. Thank god for the weed.

—

Your woken up by the jiggling of keys. You turn to look at the time and you way overslept. “Oh your up.” She closes the door lightly walking over to your bed. She puts a brown paper on your nightstand and smiled softly at you. “I got you a bagel from the place we like, I made sure they put extra cheese and hash browns. And I got you salsa.” The same sadness you felt the night before washed over you. Her sweetness makes you fall apart in more ways then one.

“Thanks Hazel.” You can only produce a small awkward smile. “Do you wanna talk about last night?” She carefully sat next to you and put her hand on your back, rubbing up and down. “I’m ok Hazel, really it’s fine.” You brush her off.

“I can’t help you if you push me away y/n. You’ve been really distant recently I’m worried. I-i mean did I do something?” She spoke softly and looked at your face silently begging for you to look her in the eyes instead of the floor.

But you can’t you start to cry before you can even get a word out. “No you didn’t do anything I’m sorry. Last night Anya was just really mean. Well she’s mean every time I’m around her but I-I’m sorry.” You spoke through tears and hiccups not even knowing even know why you were saying sorry. Regretting everything you just said. You knew Anya was going to tell her—everything was going to be ripped away from you.

Hazels face contorted into anger and shock. You were petrified that you had made her angry at you. “Anya did this.” Her tone was steady and dark. You nodded. Her jaw was clenched and her fist balled breathing heavily. She grabs her keys and opens the door. “I’ll be back in 30 minutes.” She shut the door behind her harder than she meant too. She quite literally couldn’t control her anger. She liked Anya, a lot actually, but the fighting has gotten to much. Hazel could handle a bit of sass from her here and there. But knowing she hurt you had Hazel enraged.

—

It had been 45 minutes of you sitting there bouncing your leg. Shaking anticipating the consequences of your breakdown. You tried watching a movie to get your mind off of your situation but you couldn’t focus. The bagel on your nightstand making you nauseous just by being there. Frustrated tears forcing there way up every once in a while.

You hear the knob jiggle and keys. Your immediately alerted. Hazel calmly walks through the door and moves to where you’ve come to stand infront of your bed. She takes your face into her soft hands pulling you into the deepest kiss you’ve ever had. When she finally lets you catch your breath she looks in your watery eyes .

“Why did you never tell me.” She whispers looking over your post cry face. Your lips puffy and pink frustrated cheeks. You notice that her lip is busted and she has a mark on her cheek that is definitely going to turn into a bruise. “Y-you aren’t angry? Are you ok?” You started to tear up again from the relief.

“No baby i could never be angry at you. And I’m fine just thought I should put what I’ve learned in my boxing class to use.” As she’s wiping your tears way, your remember, her and Anya took the same boxing class; thats actually how they met. Hazel looked angry but you didn’t think she was THAT angry. “I didn’t think you thought I was pretty.” She pulls you closer to her. “What! Why is that?” She questioned from the crook of your neck. “Cause you date girls like Anya I didn’t think I was your type.”

Hazel suddenly starts placing kisses on your neck. She realizes she has you turning into putty in her hands, like she always wanted. Everything about you was captivating to her in this moment. The way you smelled, the way your skin felt, how she could hear your breathing pick up with every kiss.

Your heart was racing you couldn’t believe this was actually happening. “Your not gonna have to worry about Anya anymore honey, I promise. Your the only girl I want. And your sooo my type.” Hazel sucks a bruise with no warning into your neck and licks over it. “Oh my god Hazel please.” Your hand reaches up into her hair your fingers tangled in her silky brown tresses. “Please what baby?”

Your face got impossibly redder whole body on fire unsure of how to answer her. Feeling the way Hazels hands roamed you made your head spin. You just couldn’t take it anymore pulling her up lightly by the hair to have her look at you.

“I need you.”

You make sure you say it clearly. Hazels eyes become more lidded than before overcome with lust. She pushed you backwards towards her bed until you fall into her sheets.

“Y-your so beautiful.” Shes stammering seeing you laid out in HER bed. She connects your lips again teeth clashing and tongues fighting for dominance.

You want to make her feel as good as she’s making you feel. Her knee comes between your legs giving you relief from pulsing heart beat that’s developed.

Your grinding on each other urgently. Years of pent up sexual frustration and longing being released.

You try to keep up with her kisses the best you can. The friction making you lose control. Completely entangled in each other, hands trying to feel every part of her.

Exchanging heavy breaths and soft whimpers. It was frenzied and sloppy it was the hottest thing you’ve ever experienced.

You tug her shirt over her head. She does the same for your exposing your bare chest. “Fuck.” Her brows pushing together as she feels her arousal pooling in her boxers. She can’t help but gently thumb your hard nipple trailing kisses from your collar bone to your breast.

She took the soft flesh into her mouth leaving hot kisses. Her hand massaged the other. Her lips wrapped around your nipple and released it with a pop. You let out a strained moan.

Her hand traveled to the waist band of your pajamas pants. Teasing you with her fingers moving back and forth under the fabric.

“Can I take these off.” She ask you her eyes begging you to say yes, desperate to see all of you. “Please” You nodded and she gently undressed you leaving your skin vulnerable to cool air for your dorm.

It doesn’t matter though, because Hazels warm body is pressed to you in a second. Her hand trails from your breast to your hip slowly, keeping your attention.

“Do you know how long Ive wanted you?” You shake your head, voice escaping you in the moment. Her finger slides through your folds, your wetness sending waves of pleasure and confidence through her. The sound alone made her ache.

“Way to fucking long.” She slips a finger in your soaked needy hole. You let out an open mouthed exhale. She slips in another finger. “Fuck! Mm-n!”

Her fingers stretched you out and the sensation was mind numbing. An endless repeat hazelhazelhazelhazel. Was all you could think about. Her fingers curled at a slow pace hitting just the right spot. Working your clit with her thumb at the same time.

“Im I making you feel good honey?” Her voice was gentle and attentive. The way she was grinding down on your thigh mixed with your pretty noises was making her go insane. Your moans start to get more frequent. As you were embarrassingly close to release so soon. “S-so good Hazel.”

“Talk to me sweetheart. This is all mine now right?” Hazel questions you her pace picking up and mouthing your tits. “All yours all yours all yours all…” You mumbled to her as your eyes flutter. “That’s right honey.” She kept a rough tempo leaving marks on your chest until you were finally coming undone under her.

Shes watches as your orgasm possesses you. Moaning her name as you arch your back grinding yourself against her fingers. “Yeah honey just like that cum for me baby.” She doesn’t stop till your squirming from overstimulation.

You catch your breath for a second before becoming focused. You didn’t want your fatigue from your orgasm to keep you from pleasing her. Hazels already pulling you into another deep kiss like before.

“I want to make you feel good now Hazel.” She seemed a little shocked. As you think about the girls she’s hooked up that’s probably not the kind of treatment she was used too.

“You don’t have to y/n, making you cum is pleasure enough.” She seemed almost nervous. You shake your head and take her hand placing the two fingers that were just fucking deep inside of you into your mouth.

Releasing them with a pop. Her eyes are droopy and mouth slightly open. Her chest breathing deeply overwhelmed with lust. “No Hazel. I really want to make you feel good.”

Hazels ripping off her sports bra without another word. You nudge her shoulder down and straddle her. She’s frantically trying to take her sweats and boxers off. You help her rip them off and throw them across the room.

The sight is beautiful she’s completely soak, all you want is to have your face between her thighs. “Can I taste you?” You ask coyly as your hands rub up and down the tops of her thighs, your words going straight to her core. “Fuck, y-yeah, yes p-please—I mean.”

You settle between her thighs leaving light kisses on her inner thighs. Hazels having a hard time keeping still with you so close to where she needed you.

You look up into her eyes through your lashes as your breath fans over her soaked cunt. She lets out a whimper on accident and it set her body on fire with embarrassment.

Finally you lick a broad stripe. Hazel sign in relief. Her fingers pulling at your roots. Your hands are hooked over her thighs keeping them apart. Tongue flicking over her clit at a pace YOU didn’t even know was possible.

Hazel eased into the feeling of being taken care of. She’s switching between look you in the eyes and looking at the ceiling when the shyness become too much. She quietly took in the sensation of being taken care of before speaking trying to get rid of the shyness.

“I’ve thought about you like this s-so many nights.” Hazel mumbles out between whimpers. You push your finger into her curling. “Yeah?” You question quickly. She throws her head back when you go back to sucking on her clit.

You add another finger. Pace becoming quicker and deeper. “I always imagined this,oh god,h-happening during one of our movie nights.” You hum into her creating a whole new sensation as her legs start to quake. “I th-thought youd take the hint. Oh god don’t stop.”

She let out a soft laugh until the knot in her stomach was becoming to much to handle. “I mean we c-cuddled for like 3 hours at a time! Shitshitshit!” Hazels grip on your hair became tight as her eyes rolled back, letting out a loud moan. The knot in her stomach snapping as the white hot feeling flushes over her.

You watch her in awe. Her chest heaving as she grinds into you her other hand gripping the headboard showing her toned tricep.

You help her fully ride out her orgasm then pull away to use your shirt to clean yourself in and lay next to her gently.

Hazel turns to look at you with a tired smile spreading across her face. She cups your cheek once more kissing your forehead. “I thought it would end like this too.” She says to you quietly. “Me too.” You reply going to kiss the tip of her nose. She looks into your eyes for a moment thinking.

Her eyebrows push together as a though crosses her mind. “Did you ever eat the bagel?” You laugh at her genuinely concerned question and pull her into an embrace, warm bodies lovingly entwined. “No I actually thought I was dying though in my defense.” Hazel pouts at you.

“Did you beat up Anya?” You question her instead. “I tried to but she honestly kicked my ass sooo bad, like embarrassing I’m so happy you weren’t there” You laughed at this too.

“I looked cool though right?” She dropped her voice dramatically. “Oh yeah sooo cool.” She gasped at your sarcasm.

When your both of yours laughter dies down it’s seems both of you have the same realization that your best friend was now your girlfriend. Eyes saying what they needed too.

“You wanna watch a movie?” You asked quietly. “Only after you eat cause a $12 bagel on a college student budget is atrocious.” She kissed your forehead and nudged you to get up.

(Thank you for reading😙)

#hazel callahan #hazel callahan x reader #bottoms 2023 #bottoms movie #hazel callahan imagine #hazel callahan x you

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 months

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A special sort of craving 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen

Summary: A stranger appears at your cafe and leaves you unsettled.

Part of the Backwood AU

Note: I found this in my docs and then I was like this could be an AU and people will hate me but here we are. I am heavily considering adding at least one other character to the AU bc I have an idea I don't think i'll ever get to full length with.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

He doesn’t belong. Not in this sleepy village. You can tell by the ring on his pinky, a golden signet that boasts of wealth not known to the farmers and lumberers of the desolate locale. His cheeks are red as if he didn’t expect the crisp autumn bite, though his jacket is unzipped to his chest, revealing a golf shirt with some designer logo sewn into the collar.

He tilts his head as he considers the glass display with shelves of bite-sized tarts and fragrant pies. You approach the other side, standing on tiptoes to see over it. His eyes slowly rise with your movement, a dimple in his cheek of amusement. You skirt around to the side of the display and lean over the lower counter so he can see you.

“Hello, you looking for something in particular?” you ask.

“Something sweet,” he answers, his crooked grin lingers as he lets his gaze wander back to the pies, “cherry… it’s been a while since I had a nice, juicy cherry pie.”

He licks his lips with the last word, reaching up to brush his fingertips over his bristly mustache. Your smile threatens to falter but you keep it on. He definitely isn’t from around here. Not with his accent or the hair slicked back so neatly.

“You want a slice?” you ask brightly. “Two bucks for a slice, twelve for the whole thing.”

“Hmm?” he raises a brow and sidles over to stand across from you.

“The pie,” you say as he puts a hand on the counter, leaning in as his other rests on his hip, “did you want some?”

His eyes fall down to the top of your apron, the red and white checker distracting him as you mindlessly flick the frill around the skirt. His smirk blooms fully and he stands straight.

“Wouldn’t mind a slice… of the pie,” he says as if it’s some joke. You don’t get it.

“Sure,” you say as you go behind the display and take out the cherry pie. You take it to the metal table behind you as you hear him, sense him looming along the counter. “You want anything to drink, sir? Some milk? Tea? Coffee? We do a combo for three-fifty.”

“Mm-mm-mm, a nice glass of milk would go nice with the pie,” he purrs, “they usually got you working all alone, sweetness?”

You look over your shoulder as you shovel a slice onto a plate, little flowers painted around the waffled trim.

“It’s my shop,” you say as you take the dish and grab a fork from the tray. You place it beside the till and type in the total, “cash or card, sir?”

“You own all this?” he leans his elbows on the counter, bent at the waist as he looks up at you.

“Sir,” you nod.

“Card,” he stands and stretches his arms over him before he drops his hands, poking his fingers in his back pocket.

“I’ll get that milk,” you say as he swipes his card, “and I’ll bring this over to you if you wanna sit.”

“Ah, table service, I like it,” he says as the machine chirps and accepts his payment, “you country folk are all so… nice, aren’t you?”

“Suppose,” you say as you open the fridge and take out a small carton.

You glance over as he tucks away his wallet. He winks and walks away. He drapes his jacket over the chair by the window as you grab a glass and hurry over to the counter. You place the glass and carton on his table as he sits. You go back to the counter and bring him the pie.

“You visiting someone?” you ask curiously.

He looks at you pointedly. You hesitate. You forget that the city slickers don’t like questions, but everyone in the village knows each other, so your habit has you careless.

“Bought some house called ‘The Grove’,” he answers as he pushes the fork through the braided crust, “apparently it’s a big deal.”

“The Grove?” you can’t help your surprise, “wow.”

He scoffs, hardly amused, and slides the fork into his mouth, sucking off the pie as he watches you. He chews and swallows slowly as he hovers the silver over the oozing pie.

“You know it?”

“It’s pretty far out,” you say, “but yeah, everyone knows The Grove.”

“Sure,” he pokes a cherry so the juice leaks out, “this is good pie. You make all these?”

“It’s my recipe, but I think Melinda did that one.”

“Don’t get good home cooking like this in the city,” he plops the cherry in his mouth and his jaw tenses with the tartness, he hums in satisfaction. He looks you up and down once more, “don’t get that personal touch.”

“I’m glad you like it, I’ll let Melinda know,” you push your hands into the large pockets of your apron, a movement that further catches his attention.

“Sounds good, cupcake,” he opens the carton and pours the milk into the glass, “you do delivery?”

“Sundays,” you answer, “not that we get many requests but…”

“Personal deliveries,” he insists, “like you said, house is far away, and I’m new in town. Wouldn’t mind a familiar face and a nice pie.”

You rub your neck, “well I don’t usually do the deliveries.”

“Melinda?” he prompts.

“No, Terry takes them with the lumber.”

“Mm,” he frowns, “right… guess I’ll just make the trip in.”

“Okay,” you nod, “let me know if ya need anything else.”

“Oh, I definitely will,” he slithers as you slowly turn away.

You feel him watching you as you try to hide behind the counter. You take a cloth and the cleaner and start wiping down the back of the display. You hear the clink of his fork against the plate.

City people are always a bit odd, but he gives you a bad feeling.

#lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #drabble #series #au #backwoods au #the gray man #a special sort of craving

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icy-bluez · 2 months

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Bake Me Some Hearts

Warnings: Established relationship, suggestive (Zayne), lots of fluff.

Synopsis: When you're in the process of baking something for them.

Characters: Zayne, Xavier, Rafayel

A/N: My search history now consists of 'which food explodes' 'can bread explode' 'how to bake' 'how do whiny cats behave'

Zayne:

You were making cookies or at least, trying your best to. Turning up the heat of the oven you waited, humming a song and happily dancing around the kitchen. Zayne had come back from work earlier, tired and exhausted, demanding your presence in the bedroom. He then proceeded to adorably fall asleep on your chest.

You had stroked his hair, rubbed his back and kissed him until you felt sure his nightmares wouldn't bother him, then got up to make cookies for him in an attempt to make him feel better. The 'ting' of the oven alerts you. Taking out the baked, cat-shaped cookies you start piping frosting on them. It wasn't until you started on the second batch that you felt two strong arms snaking around your waist. You giggle as your back comes flush with a solid chest.

"Hello my dearest snowman. Did you sleep well? " You ask. He rests his chin on top of your head before answering.

"I suppose. What are you up to now?" He asks, languidly, voice and octave lower and distinctly sleepy.

"I'm making sure the snowman is well fed."

"Mm. Come back to bed with me." He demands, nuzzling his nose to your neck.

"I'm almost done love, almost." You say, turning slightly and cupping his cheek. He places a kiss on your palm, closing his eyes. Adoration fills your heart looking at the beautiful man towering behind you. You smile, putting a bit of frosting on his lips.

"Just a moment."

Turning back towards the cookies, you started flourishing them with toppings and decorations till you were satisfied. Zayne licked off the frosting on his lips mumbling about it tasting good. Skeptically, you took a bite out of a nearby cookie. Satisfied you turned around to let Zayne take a bite out of it too.

"These are the only cats that won't run away from you."

"Well aren't you playful today?"

He leaned down to capture your lips, licking, sucking and tasting the inside of your mouth till your cheeks turned the darling shade of pink he loved.

"I would say they came out quite well." He comments whilst wiping off a bit of frosting from the corner of your mouth and licking it, never breaking eye contact.

Suffice to say you were fiercely red, dizzy and out of breath when Zayne lifted you up and put you down on the kitchen counter, kissing you silly. The both of you had only a half eaten tray of cookies to keep you company as the night got darker and the moans louder.

Xavier:

"Xavier stop that!" You exclaim, laughing as he tried his level best to bake a singular piece of bread. The one he had tried to make earlier had exploded, dramatically. He just added too much yeast.

"I don't understand...what did I do wrong?"

You just proceed to laugh harder, grabbing the corner of the kitchen table in an attempt to stabilize yourself.

"Your skill in exploding things seems to be getting better everyday." You had tears in your eyes, which you wiped, trying to control your laughter.

"At least one of us is having fun."

"Wait...hehehe, you have to make sure you don't add too much yeast."

You walk in front of Xavier, taking the mixing bowl away from him and adding a good amount of ingredients.

"Didn't I do exactly that?"

"No you dumped the whole packet in." He grabs a remnant of the bread that had exploded and puts it in his mouth.

"It's got a coarse texture but it tastes fine..?"

"Oh my god Xavier don't eat that! Haha!"

You proceed to knead the dough you made for a solid ten minutes, then add butter, knead it again until your hands are tired.

"Now we need to wrap it for a while, then let it rise for a while which might take about...2 hours. Can the sunshine boy's stomach wait that long?"

"Should we just give up on making bread? You have a ton of snacks in those cabinets." He says looking down at you with those beautiful blue eyes of his. You can't help but grab his face, pull him down and kiss his nose.

"Aww baby. Why don't you go get something for yourself and I'll make us some croissants in the meantime?"

"But I want to help as well..."

"Hmm, you can help by getting yourself the packet of frozen mixed berries from the fridge and eating them plus feeding them to me. I can tell you're hungry."

Xavier giggles softly, in that raspy, permanently sleepy voice of his. "You know me so well."

If there was anyone who knew exactly how touchy Xavier was, it was you. He never stopped touching you, grabbing your waist, kissing your neck and shoulders, pecking your lips and then running away. The golden sunrays infiltrated the room, as if drawn to Xavier. It highlighted your features and the both of you laughed at each other's shenanigans. Baking with Xavier was a bit too wholesome.

Rafayel:

"Hello Linkoln Police? This is your neighborhood famous artist, Rafayel. Yes...yes, I'm calling to complain about something."

You listen to your dearest, needy Rafayel whine on the remote-turned-phone as he sits on the couch in the living room that is adjacent to the kitchen. All you can do as you bake pastries is try your level best to suppress the smile threatening to split across your face.

"Hmm, the woman who stole my heart has been ignoring me the entire day! Callously might I add! I am so close to being admitted in the hospital for the disease-you-get-when-you-have-no-heart-syndrome!"

You burst out laughing.

"Hear that officer? That's her laughing! Menacingly! She has no sympathy for this poor, amazing artist!"

You walk up to Rafayel who was sat on the couch with a prominent pout on his face. He was definitely sulking.

"Really Rafayel?" You ask, still smiling. You sit down beside him, wiping your hands on a clean towel before touching his face.

"No..." He turns away. "I'm mad at you." (Sorry this reminded me of that lil cat picture with the caption 'no talk me i angy' I had to say it.)

"Babe I was just making pastries for us to enjoy later tonight."

"I know and I have successfully lured you away from the ferocious pastries with my charm." He says before tackling you onto the couch with him. You lie below him smiling and giggling at his antics. You look up through smiling eyes to see a grin on Rafayel's face.

"I missed you...I really did not want to go on that overseas trip..." He says and buries his face in the crook of your neck. You bring your hands onto his hair and start running your fingers through it.

"I know love, I know. But you're back now."

"Yeah and you're ignoring me..." He says, softly kissing the side of your face.

"I did not haha..." You turn your face to meet his lips in a gentle kiss.

"Well, would you like to help me out then? I'm only left with the decoration part."

"Only if I get to keep my arms around you the entire time."

You laugh again before kissing his forehead.

"Don't assume you were the only one who was suffering. I missed you too."

Rafayel smiles.

ANTHOLOGY LIST

#i love them all your honour #zayne love and deepspace #fanfiction #love and deepspace #zayne #rafayel #xavier #xavier love and deepspace #fluff #suggestive #rafayel love and deepspace

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ficnation · 6 months

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Chapter 2: Biting Into the Past

Series: “Eat Your Heart Out” Pairing: Hannibal Lecter x Female! Reader x Will Graham Word count: 3,9k+ Warnings: canon-typical warnings

Main Masterlist

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Will’s eyes flutter open gradually, the gentle sunlight caressing his pupils with its warm, comforting fingers, slowly coaxing him out of the dreamless slumber. He isn’t drenched in sweat like always, and there’s no sign of dread in his mind. It’s a peacefulness he missed so much—a peacefulness that was taken from him a long time ago.

The man rubs sleep away from his eyes with the back of his hand. He lies still for a while before the events of yesterday rise up to life in his clouded brain. He lets his arm fall limply onto your side of the bed. The sheets are cold underneath his palm. You’ve been gone for a while already, and he’s surprised your movement didn’t wake him up earlier. Will mumbles out your name, propping himself up on his elbow as he looks around the room.

You sit on the carpet in front of the fireplace, back leaning against one of the armchairs. The fire casts a warm glow over your skin as you pull the blanket draped over your legs a little higher. Your focus is solely on the book grasped in your hands—it’s a picture of pure serenity. Eyes glued to the pages in front of you, you allow the words—each line and sentence—to carry you away into the distant lands of the story.

“What are you reading?” Will asks, his voice spiked with a twinge of raspiness that’s always there in the mornings or when he’s sick.

You turn your head toward him slowly, but you keep your eyes on the page till the end of the sentence. When you finally look at him, he can’t help but smile at you softly—you mirror him in an instant.

You close the book and raise it above your head, giving the brunet a clear view of its cover. “The Godfather,” you reply with a cheeky glint in your eyes.

“Again?” He raises his eyebrow in curiosity.

You’ve read that book at least six times already, and Will could never figure out why it pulled you in so much—why did it keep you from reaching for something new and different. Was it the feeling of familiarity, fear of change, or did you genuinely enjoy the fictional world of Italian mafia so much?

You stand up and stretch your arms over your head with a satisfied groan. You don’t even need to use a bookmark before you put “The Godfather” back into its designated spot on one of the shelves.

Will sits up a little straighter as you throw the blanket over your shoulders and join him in bed. You find a seat between his quilt-covered thighs and drape your legs over his hips, crossing your ankles behind his back. Will’s breath hitches in his throat.

“You’ve been missing out,” you say with a cheeky grin, pulling yourself just a tad bit closer, craving the heat of his body.

The man in front of you takes a deep breath, then readies himself to disagree. He’s seen enough of murder and scheming to last him a lifetime. But before he can object, you lean in and seal his lips closed with a kiss.

Will doesn’t even think of resisting as his hands wrap around your waist, pulling you flush against his body, like he has no intention of ever letting go. When you pull away, his eyes are closed, his mouth slightly open. He looks downright angelic—absolutely gorgeous.

“We should probably get up,” you say, teasing him—testing him. Your fingers find solace in the messy brown curls on top of his head, tugging gently.

“In a little while… Just a few more seconds…” Will moans out, already lost in the sensuality of your touch. He doesn’t dare to open his eyes as he buries his face in the crook of your neck and just breathes you in like a drug.

Your fingers run through his hair again, and he can’t help but bite down on your flesh softly. You whimper, and it spurs him on to continue, so he soothes your skin with the tip of his tongue, tasting you, before he kisses you again. There’s no thinking, no reason in his head that tells him he should stop—there’s only longing. He’s waited so long to be able to do this again, he can’t deprive himself of this—he can’t deprive himself of you .

With a hand on his diaphragm, you push him away gently, and he drops back onto the pillows with a heavy sigh. He looks up at you with hooded eyes, and you wonder how did you manage to get through a single day without this man by your side.

“Will, I have a meeting with Crawford in two hours,” you protest, but your tone is unserious. He knows you don’t really care whether you should show up or not.

“You do?” Will raises an eyebrow, his hair in disorder, his breaths shallow and fast. It’s almost as if he’s been pulled back into reality, a reality in which other people and responsibilities unfortunately do exist. “Do you really have to leave so soon?” His tone is hopeful, a touch of vulnerability in his eyes—maybe even desperation.

You really want to say “no” and stay right where you are, straddling his hips—preferably with fewer clothes on. But the mystery of your sister’s murder still occupies the back of your mind—the deepest and darkest cranny of it. It’ll eat you alive if you don’t find out what exactly transpired.

“I hoped you’d come with me,” you propose, leaning down to kiss his forehead in consolation. That’s all you can offer him, and you hope it’s enough.

“I thought we’d spend the day together,” he confesses. The raspiness of his voice makes you inhale sharply. “I just… I don’t want you to leave.”

Will looks at you— really looks at you—and takes your hand in his, fingers entwining with yours. You can feel how tight his grip is, feel how important this is to him. It’s a sentiment you share—you missed him too, and you don’t know how many times you’ll be able to do this again. What if you were the Chesapeake Ripper’s next victim—his main course?

“And we will. I just need to talk to Jack, and then I’m all yours. I promise,” you extend your pinky toward him, raising your brow in challenge.

Will looks at your pinky, then back at you, before he extends his own in return. They curl together, and his face turns somber. He’s aware that if he looses sight of you today even for a second, he’ll panic. He absolutely dreads it.

“I’m holding you to that promise,” he says, his voice suddenly serious. But he doesn’t let go of your pinky, it’s almost as if he doesn’t want to risk letting you escape again. The grimace he sends you is a poor excuse of a smile.

“Are you ready?” he asks after a minute of silence.

Your eyes never stray from his face as your eyebrows scrunch in pretend-confusion. You look down at your pajama-clad body and your position straddling Will. “Uhh, can’t say that I am.”

“It’s not what I meant.”

You know it’s not, and that your attempt at diverting his attention elsewhere wouldn’t work. He’s the last person that could ever fall for it. You might know Will more than he even knows himself, but it doesn’t mean this goes only one way.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” You shake your head and pull away from him, goosebumps rising over your arms the second you get up from the bed. You want to—you just can’t.

The blanket that was previously draped over your shoulders disappeared somewhere when you were busy kissing Will and despite the burning fireplace, the chill of the room still makes you shiver. You cross your arms over your chest, shuddering.

Will doesn’t push, he never did and he never will. The moment your feet clad in fluffy socks hit the floor, he’s reaching out to take your hand in his. He knows exactly what you need and even though he didn’t take your bait, he pretends he did.

“You always look beautiful,” he says softly, raising your hand to his face, so he can kiss your knuckles. “But I guess clothes that aren’t a pajama would be a little bit more appropriate for a meeting with Jack.”

“Yeah,” you agree with a grateful smile—your voice almost a whimper. He understands you. He knows you.

“I already let the dogs out,” you inform him when his gaze strays toward his furry friends asleep by the burning fireplace. “Should I make breakfast?”

The man nods and watches as you cross the room toward the kitchen. He just can’t help but notice your figure—your curves, the way your body moves, the way your hair flows with every step you take. You must be conscious of his staring—you’ve always been aware of your surroundings, he taught you the importance of it—and yet you don’t react. You don’t ask him to stop, either.

“I can only offer you grilled cheese and eggs,” you say, pulling your hair up into a loose bun on top of your head. “We should probably stop by a grocery store on our way back.”

“Grilled cheese and eggs will do fine...” Will’s mouth quirks up into a smile.

He reaches for his clothes, that lay draped over one of the armchairs. Eyes glued to the muscles of his back as he pulls the shirt over his head, you retreat into the kitchen after a second of hesitation. Will joins you soon after.

You offer him a bowl and a fork to whisk the eggs as you look through the cupboards to find a pan or maybe even a toaster if you’re lucky. The man starts to whisk the eggs, a contemplation playing over his face as he watches you rummage through the cabinets.

It’s only now, in the morning light, that Will notices the difference in your behavior from when he saw you last. You are more confident, your movements more fluid and graceful. Your hair shines with silk, and your skin glistens with health. He is reminded again that you’re no longer the curious-eyed girl he met at work—you’re a woman now, aware of your knowledge, charm and the cruelty of the world. That light inside you might be gone, but there’s a new one taking its place—one he doesn’t recognize yet.

“Can I ask you a question?” Will peers at you, his fingers on the handle of the pan as he heats it up. He looks more serious now, and that makes you wonder what’s on his mind.

“What was your life like once you left? I mean, I thought I knew, but seeing you now…” his voice trails off as he tries to find the right words. He isn’t good at it. It was far easier when he tried to prepare the questions in his mind at night, when it still felt like a fantasy or a dream.

Reminded of the reason you found yourself back in Wolf Trap, Virginia—your expression turns somber. You blink away the tears gathering in your eyes and turn to face him. The deep breath you take before speaking doesn’t give you the relief you hoped for.

“I didn’t have to watch dead bodies every day anymore. Turns out, this kind of detox does wonders for your health.” You rest your back against the cold counter, shutting the final cupboard after retrieving a few jars of spices from it. “I thought I’d be miserable going into witness protection. I missed you so much. You were all I could think about for the first few years, but then I just shut it all out. The past, I mean. I had to start my life from scratch.”

Will winces at your words—at the idea of you being without him, out of his reach. “Shut it all out?” he echoes softly. “You made me fall in love with you, and then you disappeared without saying anything,” the words pour out of him, and you can hear pain and anger in his tone, but there’s something else too. Something he’s fighting to keep hidden. “I... You never said why you left. But I couldn’t be mad at you. I just wanted you to be safe.”

“I couldn’t, Will. They didn’t let me say my goodbyes. It’s a miracle I even managed to convince Jack to tell you.” You sigh deeply, raising your hand to stroke his cheek, but the pained look in his eyes makes you drop your arm before it makes contact with his skin. “I’m sorry.”

“You could have at least written…” Will looks away, ashamed for even asking. He knew he couldn’t fault you for it, it wasn’t your fault, and yet, here he was, feeling hurt. “I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know if you were safe, if you were even still…” his voice trails off at the end. He wasn’t even sure if you were still alive—if you still loved him, still wanted to be with him. He thought about the worst.

You don’t need him to verbalize it. You understand him without words. “I never stopped loving you, Will. There were men in my life, but they were just... strangers. I didn’t want any of them to stay.”

The idea of you being with someone else makes Will feel queasy, but he tries to dismiss the thought when he sees the love in your gaze. He had something with Alana, or at least he thought he did. She wasn’t a woman of his dreams, but she was the first one that didn’t give up on him for a long time—until she did. Will wasn’t even sure if he wanted to be with her, but she showed interest, and it’s been so long since you disappeared, he just accepted it. Now the thought of touching someone other than you makes him want to wash his hands for hours, as if that would erase what he did.

Will moves a bit closer to you, so close that he can feel your warmth. “I didn’t stop thinking about you either,” he admits. “Every day you were the first thing on my mind. When I woke up, when I went to sleep…”

“I’m so sorry.”

“I’d lay there, and all I could think was, ‘where are you?’ and ‘why did you leave me?’ It was torture.” Will shakes his head, trying to clear his mind of the painful memories.

You move a little closer, and he raises his hand to rest it gently on your arm. You might as well be the only two people on the entire planet—nothing else matters at this moment but you and him.

“I will never do that again. I promise you that. I will never disappear again.”

Will pulls you into a tight hug, burying his face in your neck, breathing you in. He doesn’t want to think about this anymore. He shouldn’t have to because you’re back, and you promised him you’ll never leave him again.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” he whispers. “Don’t ever leave me again.”

He doesn’t want to be without you, doesn’t want to feel the void in his heart again. Even though he knows you could never hurt him willingly, he doesn’t want to go back to that empty place, doesn’t ever want to doubt it again.

You’d stay like that forever if you could, but the smell of burning eggs makes Will move away swiftly. He takes the pan off the heat and stirs them.

“Looks edible to me,” you mumble, looking over his shoulder. You’re still moved by his confession—by his desperate embrace.

Will doesn’t respond, instead focusing on ensuring the eggs are indeed edible. When they are finished, he grabs two plates from the cupboard over your head, then serves them.

You catch a glimpse of a smile—the tiniest glimpse—and you know he wants to be happy, wants to find peace and happiness in the present—but it’s clear the past has cast a shadow over him. Your presence has improved his mood considerably, and yet you’re aware of that shadow every time he looks away from you. When he leaves the kitchen, you almost let out a whimper. You feel guilty that you weren’t there when he needed you.

The room is quiet when you join him at the table, a plate with a stack of grilled cheese sandwiches on it. You sit across from Will and send him a reassuring grimace—it was intended to be a smile—placing the food in the middle of the table.

“You’re far happier than I expected you to be after what happened,” Will admits, shuffling the eggs around his plate mindlessly. He regrets the words the second they leave his mouth.

But it’s too late to take them back as you look at him with wide eyes, fork dropping onto the wooden table with a clatter. He looks down at his food, suddenly feeling the weight of his actions—how the air turns heavy around the two of you.

“I didn’t mean to...” Will shakes his head, as if he can’t believe what he just tried to insinuate. His mind is a mess, and he can’t find the right way to change the topic.

You cut him off with a deep sigh, resting your elbows on the table as you look anywhere but at him. “I shut it off. I don’t want to remember it for now. If I want to survive this, I had to shut it off. If I think of her for even a second too long, I’ll break down. I can’t do that.”

It pains Will that you don’t allow yourself to even say your sister’s name out loud after what happened. He nods, his eyes on you. It’s hard for him to process the idea that you can just... push away those feelings, like they don’t even exist. After all, he’s the opposite, he can’t stop himself from feeling. You’ve always told him that the reason you two are so different is because you shut yourself off while he feels everything.

Will understands your decision, though—not wanting to deal with the pain, not wanting to face it, not yet.

“You can talk to me about it if you want, you know,” the man offers gently.

“I know,” you acknowledge him, finishing the conversation. You lift your fork back and eat your breakfast, acting like nothing ever happened. It’s reassuring for some reason.

Will watches you eat, his eyes wandering over you, admiring the shape of your lips as you speak, the soft lines of your eyelashes. He’s happy to see you eat, happy to see that your body is no longer tense and stiff—a reaction to what he said. You seem to be slowly relaxing back into your natural movement.

You look up at him, and a small smile crosses your lips—almost like you’re reading his thoughts. Before he can protest—he should be paying attention to his food—you catch his gaze and ask him, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Will doesn’t deny it, but he takes time to answer you. “Just admiring you,” he says softly. “You seem different… Like yourself.” You’re still incredibly beautiful in his eyes. But you’re so relaxed, your body language more open than ever. You are different—maybe even better than before.

Squinting your eyes at the words, you call him out on his bullshit, but your tone is unserious. “You’re saying it, but those are not your thoughts. I was far quieter back then. I can’t imagine that my loud mouth is something familiar to you.”

Will grins, but he knows there’s still a lot of truth in what he said.

“No…” he says, shaking his head with a small laugh. “I’m happy you’re finally speaking your mind. Back then, you didn’t speak enough. Now I feel like I’ll need to remind you that silence can be comfortable, too.”

You observe him quietly, surprised he doesn’t relate to his description of the new you . This is probably the most open he’s been since the day you’ve met. You’re glad. You’ve lost almost ten years—now, it’s time to catch up, to piece everything together.

“But now… I’m not sure if I can handle your mouth. I feel like I’m going to get a migraine if I keep listening,” he changes the tone of the conversation, and you look at him in disbelief.

“Will!” You feign feeling hurt, clutching at your heart and blinking fast.

Will rolls his eyes, and that little smile of his returns. His gaze drifts over your fingers, your arms. And he’s so tempted to reach out and touch them, feel the softness of your skin. Or grab your arms and pull you closer.

You finish the breakfast in a playful mood, not touching any topics concerning your past after the mention of your sister. Will can’t help but marvel at your transformation. As he watched you eat, laugh, chat and make quips like you’re not afraid of being yourself, he can’t help but think that maybe your disappearance was the best thing that could have happened to you.

He wants to enjoy you as you are now, as you always were, and he looks down at his plate, his thoughts wandering back to everything you said. Will is still curious, he wants to know everything there is to know about the years you were away from each other, but he leaves you be for now.

Once you’re done, Will offers to wash up the plates and lets you get ready. You agree after a little playful resistance.

When you find him again, you’re wearing beige linen dress pants, white lace button-up and your favorite coat—business casual at its best. Will takes comfort in the fact that at least your style didn’t change much.

The outfit looks fantastic on you. You always knew how to dress to emphasize your curves, the smooth, elegant lines of your figure. The white button-down hugs your body, emphasizing your breasts and waist, and the long line of the coat highlights the length of your legs. It’s feminine, a bit provocative, and yet there’s a sense of modesty in your outfit—you’re not trying to prove anything to anyone. In a way, you’re just being your normal self. The real you.

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” he says softly, his eyes fixed on you.

You acknowledge the compliment by walking up to him and standing on your tip toes to kiss the slope of his nose.

Will smiles, and gently cups your face. Your lips are so close. Your skin is soft, your smell still drives him crazy, and you are so, so beautiful.

You feel his fingers gently caress your cheek, your neck, your collarbone, and then your arms… and as you move in closer, he moves with you, his fingers wrapping around your back. Your bodies are pressed so close together. He can feel the warmth of your skin. He looks at you—at the smooth skin of your neck, at the soft shape of your lips, and then—his mouth is on yours.

You will be late—you know that, yet you can’t bring yourself to keep all the affections at bay. And this is another reason why Will has always been in love with you. You’re not afraid to chase what you want, to seize something even though you know you shouldn’t. He loves that about you, and he loves kissing you. Your lips are so soft, and the sound of your shallow breaths sends a rush of excitement through his body.

The doorbell rings.

And Will just about loses it. You smile to yourself, enjoying this game you’re playing. You feel how much he wants you right now, how much he wants to lose himself in you, and you can’t blame him.

The bell rings again, louder now.

#eat your heart out #hannibal #hannibal tv #hannigram x reader #hannibal lecter x reader #will graham x reader #will graham x hannibal lecter #hannibal lecter x will graham #hannigram #hannibal lecter #will graham #hannibal lecter x reader x will graham

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seeingivy · 1 year

Text

soccer players

satoru gojo x f!reader

in which your sneaky link/situationship satoru gojo realizes he likes you more than he thought during your soccer championships

“I think we should keep it a secret. Just a little longer. I like keeping what we for us.” he whispers.

You deflate, hiding your face deeper into his chest so he can’t see your dejection. Satoru Gojo is hilarious, brilliant, and beautiful - the best guy you’ve talked to by far. You use the word “talked” loosely. You and Satoru didn’t do much talking while you were together. After accidentally swiping yes on Hinge while you were drunk, you and Satoru had established what many would term friends with benefits? A situationship? Dating?

He was good in bed. And at making breakfast the morning after. And watering your plants, picking up your medicine from the pharmacy, buying you flowers while running errands. And at giving you a massage after soccer practice, taking showers with you, buying you hot chocolate after your exams. Sometimes you’d see him around campus, his hand slung around a girl you didn’t know and you tried your hardest to ignore the burning in your chest whenever he didn’t give you a second look. But lately, you thought lines were blurring. He just met your family last week, hugged you outside your class, and promised to come to your soccer game. He was confusing, to say the least.

Either way, you were falling, hard. You hum in agreement, promising to keep it a secret - both your relationship and your true feelings for him. You ignore the fluttering in your chest when he presses a kiss to the top of your head before drifting asleep.

You leave Satoru asleep in your bed, swinging your cleats over your shoulder to head to your soccer field. You scribble him a note, mentioning that the big game was today and that’s why you had to leave early. He gets whiny when you didn’t leave him cuddle time in the morning.

Kyoto played dirty. It made you nervous. You had to get there early, practice drilling hours before to make sure you were warmed up for the game. Last year, you were benched due to a hip injury from one of the regular season games. This time, you were ready to play.

You watch the sun rise against the bleachers, marking around two hours till the game starts. You see a few of the players trickling onto the field, joining you to warm-up for the game. Maki smacks you across the back of the head, before starting drills with you.

Maki’s girlfriend Nobara takes her seat in the front of the stands, two streaks of blue swiped against her cheek. You think of Satoru, fast asleep in your bed and feel your heart twinge. You wish he was here, cheering you on, cheesy face paint smeared across his face.

You brush away the thought, willing away your nerves for the game.

You and Maki stalk off to the locker rooms, trying to clean out before the game starts.

“Nobara won’t stop complaining. She’s seated by some idiots apparently.”

“Nobara thinks everyone is an idiot - you included. But I bet it’s that dude from Kyoto, from last year. You know, the big bulky guy who keeps saying his type in women was women with big asses.”

“Bloody idiot, I forgot about him. But no, she said it was some guy with white hair and black sunglasses. He’s here with that girl Hana, the one from Nobara’s business class.”

You pause, your hand clenched hard into your locker. White hair and black sunglasses. You sincerely hope that the idiot Maki is talking about isn’t your idiot with white hair and black sunglasses. Well, he isn’t really yours to claim but that’s just semantics.

You walk out onto the field, beelining towards the stands with Maki. Maki moves to greet Nobara, pressing a kiss to her cheek. You give her a knowing look, ready to start teasing her. Before you can even get a word out, she pushes you straight off the bleachers and you fall back, against someone.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry. My friend just pushed me off. I didn't mean to hit you.”

You look up and holy shit, this guy is hot. He has long black hair, secured in a small man bun at the back of his hair. He’s holding you by the edges of your elbows, having caught you before you fell off the stands all together.

“No problem. I’m glad she did.”

You feel your eyes widen and Maki and Kugisaki, their nosy asses, leaning over your shoulder to hear your conversation.

“Suguru. Suguru Geto. Are you playing today?”

“Yeah. She’s the captain of the Jujutsu team. And she’s only a junior.”

“And she’s single.”

You elbow the two of them, warding them off. You turn back to Suguru, giving him a sheepish smile.

“Only a junior? That’s impressive. Play good and I’ll give you something.”

“Like what?”

He takes out a sticky note, with scribbling five numbers on it. You take it in between your fingers, giving him a confused look.

“The rest of my phone number.”

You look up at him, giving him a gleaming smile. He’s hitting on you. And he’s not half bad to look at either. You feel someone come up behind you, snatching the little sheet between the tips of your fingers.

“The game’s starting. Get on the field, L/N.”

You look up to find Satoru staring down at you, an annoyed look plastered on his face. So he was that idiot Nobara was mentioning. You can’t decide if you should be flattered he came to your game or mad that he brought another girl. You reach for the sheet, but Satoru holds it over the top of his head, shaking his head at you.

“No. Go play your game, pretty girl. You can have it back after.”

Pretty girl? First he says he doesn’t want to tell people you’re seeing each other but then he goes around getting jealous when you talk to another guy? He stalks off to the stands, sitting back next to Hana, who was too engrossed in her phone to even be paying attention. You see him crumple the sheet of paper into his pocket and curse him for being so possessive in the first place.

“Good luck with the game. Sorry for pissing your boyfriend off right before you start”

“Thank you. And he’s not my boyfriend.”

“Good. Find me after. I’ll give you all ten digits at once.”

You shoot him a smile, before running off to start on the field.

One minute before half-time, the ball gets kicked into Maki’s face, her nose spilling red all over the field. At the end of the minute, you can see Nobara run onto the field, the two of you dragging her on to the bench.

The other team mills around, taking breaks as the people in the stands get up to talk to the players or grab snacks at the concession stand two feet away from you.

You grab the ice, Nobara tending to Maki as she groans in pain on the bench. You try to ignore the worry rising as Nobara holds her nose - there’s no way she can play now but can you really win without her?

You feel a hand on your shoulder and you turn to find Satoru looking down at you, his eyes filled with worry.

“What?” you whisper, slightly annoyed from earlier.

“Would you keep playing even if I asked you not to?”

“What? Why can’t I play?”

“I didn’t realize you play against literal body slammers. They just broke your friend's nose.”

“All the more reason to play. I have to win so it’s not for nothing.”

He narrows his eyes at you, clearly unsatisfied with your answer. You look over his shoulder, Nobara standing to the side so the medic could assess the damage on Maki’s face. You feel him moving closer to you, his hand moving for yours. At that second, Hana comes up, two drinks in her hand and a hot dog. He puts space between the two of you, his eyes still boring into yours.

“Here’s your drink and the food you asked for, hun.”

“I got you one, too. A drink, I mean. ”

You turn your back to find Suguru with a lime green Gatorade in his hand. Before you can talk, the whistle blows, signaling the end of halftime. Surugu and Hana stalk off the field, returning to the bleachers. Satoru stays behind.

“Your secret admirer doesn’t even know the Gatorade flavor you like.”

“And your little girlfriend thinks you like ketchup, hun.”

“Oh, come on. Jealous? You know you’re the only one for me.”

“Says the guy who literally snatched Suguru’s phone number out of my hands.” “Suguru, huh? Gonna give him the big victory kiss?”

“Probably. Bet he’d actually kiss me in public, you know.”

“Breaking my heart, pretty girl. I’m going to go cry in the stands now. Win the game in one piece, please.” he says, shooting you a grin before returning to the stands in his seat next to Hana. Asshole.

You’re awoken by the sound of ringing in your ears, muffled shouting nearby. You can feel the prickly turf against the side of your arms, your sense of surroundings totally impaired.

“She’s my girlfriend! You have to let me through.”

“There’s no way.”

Satoru? You flutter your eyes open, to find yourself surrounded by a circle of people. You recognize Maki, a gnarly bandage covering the length of her nose, Nobara, your team members, and the medics from earlier surrounding you.

“Oh thank god, she’s awake.”

You turn your head around the circle looking for the voice you heard. You could have sworn it was Satoru. You try to sit up to look for him, the pounding in your head sending you back towards the ground. Before you can hit the turf, you feel someone catch you, holding you steady.

“I asked you to win in one piece, Y/N.” he complains, his hands holding you up in place. You wince as he props you up, the blood rushing to your head all at once.

“We won?”

He smiles brightly, taking your face into his hands.

“Yes, pretty girl. You won.”

You clamp your hand against his mouth, shutting him up.

“Shh. People can hear you.”

You move to scoot away from him, the circle of people still surrounding the two of you on the ground. He tightens his grip on your hands, leaning forward to press a kiss against your lips. He breaks apart, resting his forehead against yours.

“Let them.”

Satoru nods at the circle around him, getting up to let the medics do their work. You can feel their hands running a bandage across the side of your forehead. Satoru stays close by, his hand tangled in his hair as he asks the medics how often you should take medication, if you need stitches, if it’s a concussion.

You feel Maki crouch on the ground next to you, her eyes squinting when they meet yours.

“You good?”

You nod, giving her a weak smile. She kicks you in the shin, glaring daggers at you.

“You had a boyfriend and you didn’t tell me.”

“I didn’t tell anyone. And he’s not my boyfriend. Well maybe he is? We didn’t really talk about that yet.”

Nobara crouches down, handing you an ice cold bottle of water. The medics around you walk away after finishing up your bandages, joining the group talking with Satoru and the coach.

“Knew that son of a bitch was lying. He ran onto the field after you went down, begging them to let him through because you were his girlfriend.”

“In front of other people? He's kind of embarrassed of me or something. We’ve been seeing each other for a while but he never really wanted to tell anyone.”

“Don’t know. He seemed really worried, like full on sweating buckets when you wouldn’t wake up. I bet he’s just that confused idiotic guy type.”

You nod at her, the two of them helping you onto your feet. The second you stand up, you feel Satoru’s hand sliding across your waist and his other hand guiding your free arm around his shoulder.

“Slow down. You can still faint, you know.”

You wave Nobara and Maki goodbye, Satoru not letting go of you as he guides you out of the stadium.

“Girlfriend, huh? That’s news to me.”

“Shut up. Wait here while I bring the car around. We can order Chinese at home.” he says, pressing a kiss to the side of your cheek, before running off to his car.

Home. He’s coming home with you. He called you his girlfriend, kissed you on the field, and he’s coming home with you.

You feel a tap on your shoulder and find Suguru sliding on the bench next to you, a little slip with his phone number scribbled on it as promised.

“Oh. Wait, Suguru I-”

You’re cut off by the car directly in front of you honking twice, a very annoyed Satoru sitting in the front seat. He rolls the window down, glaring at the two of you on the bench.

“Stop cheating on me! We just started dating like twenty minutes ago.”

He leaves the car in park, stalking out of the car to help you in. Suguru awkwardly stalks away, apologizing to the two of you before walking off aimlessly in a different direction. Satoru leans over, clicking your seatbelt into place before driving back off towards your apartment.

“Unnecessary, Satoru. He was just trying to be nice.”

“Too bad. You were mine first.”

You’re nestled in bed, Satoru lazily tracing circles around the small of your back. He’d brought you home, helped you shower around your bandages, ordered your favorite Chinese food, and gave you two Asprin’s to help with your pounding headache. You knew Satoru was the doting type from the fever you had a few weeks ago, but this was next level.

“Love?”

“Hm, ‘Toru?”

“You know I didn’t keep us a secret because you’re something to be embarrassed about right?” he whispers, his lips resting against your wet hair.

“Yeah.” you lie, realizing you might have been talking a little bit too loud earlier.

“Everyone just disappears when things become too real sometimes. Maybe they realize I’m not super carefree and outgoing all the time and go running in the other direction.”

You run your hand along the length of his chest, stopping to rest it against his heart. You can feel his heart hammering under your hand.

“I didn’t want you to run away, that’s all.”

“I won’t do that. I really like you, Satoru.”

He looks down, sending you a soft smile before pressing a kiss to the top of your forehead.

“I like you too, pretty girl. More than I’d like to admit.”

You smile, your cheeks burning at his words.

“Your lesbian friends, you know the green hair and that idiot Kugisaki. When she got hurt, the first person everyone looked to was Kugisaki, rushing her onto the field. You got hurt and no one even looked at me. I had to fight my way there.”

“You didn’t even talk to me in public, let alone admit we were seeing each other.” you deadpan, frowning at him.

“No, no. I know. I just mean that it made me realize that I want people to know I’m your person. That they should rush me onto a field when you’re not okay, congratulate me when my girl wins the game.”

You sit up, taking his hands into your face.

“You’re my person?”

“If you’ll let me be.”

You smile and lean forward, pressing a soft kiss against his lips. You feel him smile against you, laughing against your lips.

“Yes, Satoru. You can be my person.”

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the-fiction-witch · 1 year

Text

Sneak

Media TMR

Character Newt

Couple Newt X Reader

Rating Cute + Smutty

Concept Sharing Hammocks

Smut Cuddles / grinding / kissing / fondling / overexcitment/

I waited eagerly and rather impatiently. I sat on top of the watchtower, I was always last to sleep and the boys knew I had a habit of sitting up on the watchtower till everyone else was asleep. Watching as the homestead slowly darkened as each lamp was extinguished. I had my own little private space but it was on the edge of the deadheads, yes it was away from eyes but it was dirty, damp, and muddy. My hammock is strong between two trees with a wooden box for all my things. It was nice to have a little privacy being the only girl but I felt lonely and somewhat abandoned out there most nights. But I had myself a solution.

Once I saw the last light go out plunging the glade into utter darkness I smiled.

I waited a few minutes more listening to the sounds of the boys snoring mixed with that of the maze changing beyond the walls.

Once I was sure all the boys were asleep I quietly climbed down the tower. I didn't bother to light my lantern as I knew this path was like the back of my hand.

I headed through the glade's grass past the kitchen, past the bathrooms, past the benches and post. Until I reached the homestead.

The tall messy structure the boys had created to house them all, hammocks hung from every place they could be hung.

I made sure to slip off my shoes walking in the grass and dirt on my tiptoes to avoid making noise I moved through the maze of hammocks all full of sleeping glades until I reached what I had been so eager for.

The center of the homestead were the keepers all slept being the earliest boys here they of course took up the center with the most space between them, they each had fabric covers hung from trees to hide their hammocks so they each has their own space and privacy. I snuck around making sure not to be seen or heard as I made my way to my most favorite place.

I ducted under a cover to make sure I wouldn't be spotted and I smiled widely at the hammock before me.

The dirty old once red fabric hammock hung from two trees with the curtains hung around so it was impossible to see other hammocks from here, in the hammock laid such a cute sweet sight.

The thing second in command laid on his back his head on a small pillow half the size of the other boys under his neck to keep his head up, his fluffy blonde hair out of place a little where he had been messing with it all day, his eyes closed gently his mouth hung open slightly, his hoodie on the floor by his shoes, leaving only his orange vest to protect his body, his chest slowly rising and falling with each gentle rested breath, his arm over his stomach lazily the other hung off the hammock towards the the floor, his legs stretched as much as they could in the little hammock another pillow the same size as the other under his bad ankle giving it a gentle support.

I smiled, setting my shoes down too and going over fixing some hair from his face.

I moved closer and pressed a little kiss to his dirty forehead he stirred a little but not enough to really move.

So I slipped off my hoodie setting it down with my shoes before I gently climbed into his hammock making sure not to tip it or to push on him too hard until I was laid ontop of him one leg down between his own the other up around his hip, my head on his chest my arms snuggly around him immediately I felt so safe, so secure and happy.

I did this alot, ever since we shared a small drunken nap cuddle in the grass a few bonfires ago, ever since I had been sneaking in for cuddles, he didn't know I always came after he was asleep and of be gone long before he woke up, plus he works so hard on the gardens that he sleeps like the dead. So I'm always able to climb in and cuddle.

I don't think he minds as he never seems bothered by me.

And as usual as I laid nuzzled into his chest his arms slowly shifted coming and wrapping around me holding me to his body.

I felt so happy, so secure and safe, so relaxed and peaceful I could have stayed cuddled here forever.

I got a lovely night sleep as I always did but woke to the sun starting to make its way above the walls so I sat up with a yawn having to carefully peel his arms from around me as I sat up completely, "ummmm good morning newt," I smiled giving his cheek a little kiss before I tried to climb out however I leaded my weight a little too far and the whole hammock tipped over throwing me and newt onto the ground "oww" I complained

"Ahhh- what the" he complained sitting up a little rubbing his head from the fall "ahhh! Y/n!" He yelped grabbing his hoodie and for some reason covering himself… not sure why?

"Hi" I smiled

"What the bloody hell are you doing here?"

"Uuuuuuuhhh"

"And why am I on the ground?"

".... earthquake?" I suggest

"Y/n?" He warns

".... I may have snuck into your hammock last night"

His eyes went wide "you what?!" He asks but then realized his volume this early "you did what?"

"I snuck into your hammock while you were sleeping"

"....why?"

"For cuddles."

"For a cuddle?"

"Ummm humm" I nodded "ever since we fell asleep together by the gardens I've been sneaking in. I feel really safe and cosy when I sleep with you"

"Awww, that's really sweet y/n." He smiled "you could have just asked. You're more than welcome to come cuddle with me if you want to"

"I am?"

"Of course you are. I was wondering who I've been cuddling the last few weeks. I thought I was imagining it" he says "that doesn't answer why were both now on the floor?"

"The hammock tipped"

"Ahhh. That makes sense" he nods "did you wanna maybe keep cuddling? At Least till we have to go to work?"

"I'd like that" I smiled

He happily got up and got settled back in the hammock then opened his arms for me so I happily climbed back in how I was nuzzling into his chest "I see why you like cuddling in here. It's nice" he Cooes stroking my hair

"It's very nice, my favorite place in the world" I smiled

"It might just be mine too" he Cooes

"Wake me when it's time for work"

"I will. Sleep tight y/n" he says giving my head a kiss

"Goodnight newt"

"Night"

I groaned a little as my body knew it was time for work, I stirred a little already mad as I didn't to get up, and my stirring seemed to wake him too

"Umm?"

"It's time for work"

"It is? Ummm five more minutes love" he complained hugging he tighter

"No come on or we'll cuddle all day"

"I don't have any objections"

"Newt come on Alby will come kick your butt of you don't get up"

"Fine" he sighed "for me to get up I need you to get up love. Your on top of me."

"I'm working on it"

"You don't seem to be working on it very hard?"

"And your jumping out of bed?"

"That's because in cuddled up with you, why would I wanna rush away from something so cosy" he says kissing my head

"See that's why I'm not moving"

"Come on, Its bacon for breakfast today" he reminds

"So you want bacon more then cuddles?" I pouted

"Ummm don't make me choose love" he sighed "hey? If I sit up that'll wake us both up."

"It would"

"I'll do it. For a kiss?"

"Really?"

"Just a little kiss?"

"Alright" I smiled moving a little so I could see him "hi"

"Hi"

I smiled and leant in pressing a soft kiss to his lips he happily kissed back tightened his arms around me his hands settled in the small of my back and my waist gently stroking my skin as we softly kissed the soft sound of our lips clacking slightly as they moved Against one another the only sound in the whole glade but the wind in the trees and the kitchens starting up breakfast till I slowly pulled back he did try and lean back in clearly desperate for our kisses to continue

"Don't make me go"

"What? Youre the one who wants your breakfast?"

"I know, don't make me leave you" he says stroking my cheek and pulling me back to kiss him till I pulled back

"Come on newt. Or no cuddle tonight" I warn sitting up to have a stretch

"Fine. I wait up for you this time"

"You better" I smiled leaning down to give him a kiss "newt?"

"Yes love?"

"Is that your belt pressing into me?" I asked given as I sat up in his hims indefinite felt something pressing against me

He blushed a little but bit his lip slightly before he chuckled "that's not my belt love"

"Isn't it?"

"No it is not" he smirked tugging me back to kiss him our kiss more giggly and playfully

"Newt! Your late!" We heard from behind the curtain but we barely had time to move as Alby came around into newts little hammock space clearly mad he was late for work and all I had managed to do was sit up.

So as far as Alby was concerned he just walked into see newt on his hammock, me sat up on his lap, his arms around my waist both of us clearly been kissing with our hoodies and shoes on the floor.

He looked us over and we both turned red the only thing either of us could manage was newt very quickly sitting up and blurting out

"It's not what it looks like" he yelped

Unfortunately given I was still sat on newts hips, as he sat up he was squarely faced with my boobs in my small vest shirt as the shirt had fallen considerably in our resting and now left little to the imagination especially given my one bra was in the wash, something he noticed as soon as he had uttered those words and now was unable to focus on anything else being meer inches from me and clearly excited by that as the stiffness below me hardened even more. It was obvious he was desperate to kiss me and get his hands or well get anything of his on my shirt.

"Newt gardens now. Y/n laundry. I'll deal with you both later" he demanded "and if your gonna do that do it in y/n's hammock"

"Yes Alby" he both nodded and he quickly left us alone

"Come on or we really will get on trouble" I giggled trying to climb down

"No no no. Come on love please. Just five more minutes" he pleads grasping me quickly and firmly trying to tug me back closer to him almost pulling me against his chest kissing my jaw and down my neck even across my chest

at first I merely giggled "newt-"

"Just five more minutes love I promise." He groans in his over excitement even starting to grind his hips against my own until one of his hands grabbed my ass and I immediately stopped him pushing him away grabbing his wrists to force him away from me

"Newt!"

He breaths "Your right. Your right. I'm sorry." He says calmly "I was thinking with the wrong head for a moment I apologize" he says moving his own hands back

"Thank you" I nodded "be careful with that"

"I'll try. Sorry"

"It's fine. Maybe we can play around with other heads suggestions after lights out" I smiled tapping his nose and giving his lips a kiss

"Umm don't encourage me love" he smirked "I'm gonna have to go to the shower aren't I?" He sighed

"I think so" I nodded "sorry newt" I told him climbing out and getting my hoodie on

"It's fine love. It's where you normally send me anyway" he winked getting his own hoodie on as he climbed out too "so, how about I come see you tonight?"

"You'll see me later? At break time and lunch atleast" I laughed getting my shoes on

"I know I'll see you around the glade but. How about I meet you at your hammock tonight after lights out?" He asks getting his shoes on

"I'll be waiting"

"You better be" he smirked giving me a gentle kiss "see you later love"

"See you later newt" I smiled before we each headed off to work.

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