Candy Crush. (e.w.)

a/n: inspired by this post from @rafesplaymate

rafe is lost in his own reflection.

the mirror across the room captures every inch of him—sweat-slicked muscles flexing, sharp jaw clenched, blue eyes dark with something dangerous. he’s watching himself more than he’s watching you. maybe he hasn’t looked at you at all.

you’re beneath him, face down in the sheets, barely holding yourself up. your fingers fist the fabric, legs shaking from the relentless pace he’s set, but rafe barely acknowledges it. barely acknowledges you.

"fuck," he mutters under his breath, running a hand through his damp hair, pushing it back. his free hand grips your waist, keeping you in place, admiring the way your body takes him—like you were made for this. for him.

but still, his eyes flicker back to the mirror.

he’s mesmerized. not by the way you tremble, not by the soft little whimpers spilling from your lips, but by himself. the way his biceps flex every time he moves, the way his abs tense, the way he looks on top of you, conquering, owning.

he smirks, licking his lips, shaking his head slightly like he can’t believe how good he looks.

"shit, baby," he breathes, almost amused, gaze still locked on the mirror. "look at me."

you don’t react—too lost in the sensation, too dazed to process his words. and that? that won’t do.

rafe clicks his tongue, slowing just enough to flip you onto your back, manhandling you like you weigh nothing. you gasp, disoriented, barely able to blink before he’s caging you in, pressing you deep into the mattress.

his big hands cup your face, squeezing, fingers digging into your cheeks—not too rough, just enough to make sure you’re paying attention.

"look, baby," he coos, voice low, commanding. his thumb brushes over your lips before giving you a light pat on the cheek, tilting your chin toward the mirror. "watch."

your blurry gaze follows his, landing on the reflection—the two of you tangled in his sheets, your body soft, flushed, wrecked beneath him. but your eyes barely have time to take yourself in because rafe?

rafe is staring at himself.

his grip tightens on your face, squeezing your cheeks together, forcing your mouth to part. his smirk deepens, admiring the way you look like this—helpless, pliant, his.

"you see that?" he murmurs, voice dripping with satisfaction. "see how good i look fuckin’ you?"

his head tilts, studying himself, taking in the sharp angles of his face, the way his damp hair falls over his forehead, the way his hands own your face, your body, your everything.

another soft pat to your cheek, not enough to hurt—just enough to remind you who’s in control.

"bet you feel so lucky, huh?" he taunts, dragging his thumb down your lips, pressing it inside just enough to make you whimper. "havin’ me all to yourself?"

you nod—because what else can you do? you are lucky, aren’t you? rafe tells you all the time. no one else would take care of you like this. no one else would want you like he does.

and fuck, he looks good doing it.

his hips snap forward, and he groans, watching the way his abs tighten, the way his muscles ripple, the way his body completely dominates yours. he’s so into himself, so lost in his own self-obsession that he almost forgets you’re even here.

his jaw clenches, grip bruising as he stares himself down in the mirror, gaze wild, completely enthralled.

"fuck, i’m good."

he says it like it’s a fact. like he needs you to understand just how lucky you are to be his.

and when he finally comes, breath shuddering, head tilting back in pleasure, he still never takes his eyes off the mirror.

because at the end of the day?

rafe cameron isn’t making love to you.

he’s making love to himself.

BETWEEN THE CITY & THE STARS - Part 1

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: In the fall of 1945, Dean is having a difficult time assimilating back into civilian life after the War. He’s visiting his brother Sam in New York City, where he’s beginning to build up his law firm. At two minutes to closing time, you interrupt their evening to solicit a solicitor. Your request? You need help in order to divorce your husband.

AN: My day tomorrow is going to be a bit packed, so I decided to release this a bit early for you guys! So here we go! The first chapter of yet another new series, my first ever 1940s AU. 🥰 I hope you have fun on this one, because I sure did. Again, very much inspired by The Clock (1945), starring Judy Garland and Robert Walker. 💜

Prompt for @jacklesversebingo: Historical Epic

Song Inspo: For this chapter it’s “Cry Me a River” by Ella Fitzgerald

Word Count: 3.9K

Tags/Warnings: Angst, mentions of cheating, PTSD, historical tidbits

✨ Series Masterlist

🎵 YouTube Playlist || Spotify Playlist

Part 1: Legal Grounds

November 2, 1945

Dean idly read the pamphlet stacked with others on his brother’s desk, which advertised his new and successful enterprise.

Law Offices of Winchester, Bialystock & Bloom

What do you know? His brother had his own office, his own business, and his name on a pamphlet.

Dean couldn’t help but curl a finger around a steel ball on the abacus sitting at the head of the mahogany desk, right next to Sam’s nameplate.

He let it fly. The abacus began to clack as one ball hit the other.

Sam looked up from the deposition he was writing to give his brother a wry brow raise.

“So this is what you do, huh?” Dean remarked, crossing his arms.

Without his jacket, his suspenders were on display over his shoulders. His red pinstripe tie was still in place, but his white dress shirt was rolled up to the elbows. Meanwhile, his brother preferred to keep himself more presentable with his sleeves down to his wrists. Jacket on.    

Dean glanced around the office, nodding at the line of bookshelves behind Sam, framing him as the bookish academic he’d always been. There was limited seating in here though, just a spare chair in front of the desk, and another to the right of it. Dean stood on the opposite side.

“If you’re bored, all you have to do is say so,” Sam said. “Which is strange, considering we’re smack dab in the middle of a city that never sleeps.”

He was right, Dean could concede. His little brother had given him a veritable list of things to do in New York City: visit the park, go to the zoo, see a picture show, visit a nightclub, or sample a host of restaurants that Sam knew Dean would probably enjoy.

He’d seen a lot of this place in the week that he’d been here visiting Sam, but a good deal of it he’d either spent alone, or with any willing young lady Dean came across, thanks to the demands of this office. If he was honest, entertaining young ladies was eating into the wallet in his trouser pocket, and the hustle and bustle was starting to be a little much for him.

“You don’t get tired of it?” Dean asked, gesturing to the out there beyond them. “The, uh…the lights, the noise, all the people?”

Sam picked his head up from his paperwork to consider the question. “No, I like it. Keeps my mind busy, and…I guess it makes me feel alive, you know?”

Dean supposed he could understand that, so he nodded.

Sam wasn’t fooled though. He thought he could tell what was running through his brother’s head, watching him fidget, and turn his head a bit sharply when a bus honked loudly outside the office’s glass doors as it thundered past.

It had only been two months since the end of the war. Two months since he and Dean met back in their family home in Lawrence, Kansas after three years fighting on two different fronts, in two different countries.

Both of them had enlisted, but Sam had spent most of his time in London while he was deployed, helping British Intelligence. Dean had clawed his way out of Normandy, and later, out of the Ardennes—the last offensive before the end.

Their experiences might as well have been worlds apart, but one thing remained the same: it had been three years in which neither brother knew if they’d see each other again.

Now, Sam saw the signs. Dean seemed a bit jumpy, overstimulated, but willing to be here to spend a little more time with Sam before he went back home. Guilt prickled in Sam’s gut. 

“I’ve got some work here to finish up, but afterwards let’s go to dinner,” he suggested. “Maybe see a show?”

Dean’s lips flickered at a smile. “You’re burning both ends of the candle. You know that, right?”

Sam opened his mouth to reply, when there was a knock on one of the glass doors—at the entrance to the small building. Their heads turned, and through the open door of his office, they spotted you standing there in the evening light. You wore a wide-brimmed hat on your head and a scarf underneath, wrapped over your hair and under your chin to shield your face. You knocked again with a hand covered by a leather glove, more persistently.

Cocking his head in confusion, Sam stood from his desk and left the room to let you in. Dean hung back and sat on the corner of the desk to wait. He withdrew a cigarette from the pack and a lighter from his pocket as he did so, but he heard you talking with his brother by the door.

“I’m sorry. We’re closed, miss,” Sam informed you.

“It’s still two minutes until closing. At least, according to my watch.”

“…Well, I suppose you’ve got me there.”

“So can I come in? I need to speak to a lawyer.”

“You sure it can’t wait until tomorrow?”

“I’m afraid it can’t, sir.” Your tone was firm, and it more than implied that you wouldn’t be moved. Sam paused then, perhaps to take a steeling breath.

“All right. Come with me, please.”

You later followed behind him through the hallway and into the office. With a lit cigarette between his fingers, his arms crossed, Dean took note of you. He subtly glanced down at your crème-colored blouse, neatly tucked into the long, burgundy skirt (with lipstick to match), your modest, classy heels, and the way you wore your hair. His brows subtly raised. He’d met quite a few girls this week, but he hadn’t seen a lady like you in quite some time.

Should’ve shaved this morning. The thought was accompanied by the way he swiped a subtle hand over his prickly chin.

You gave him a cursory glance in turn, and offered a polite, “Hello.”

He stood from the desk and switched his cigarette to his other hand, so he could shake yours.

“Hey there. Dean Winchester,” he said. He offered a smile with no small amount of charm. “Pleased to meet you…”

You dutifully gave him your first name only. He found that a little strange, but you soon slipped your hand out of his and focused on the nameplate on the desk, followed by Sam himself.

“So you’re brothers,” you realized. “Do you work together?”

Dean scoffed. “Nope, I’m just here to distract him.”

Sam tossed him a sidelong glance. There was a subtle edge of bitter truth in there somewhere, and you didn’t seem to miss it. You looked between the two men, a hint wary.

“Well, as I said, I’m here to speak to the solicitor,” you said. 

“That would be me,” Sam nodded. He went to his desk and sat down behind it, gesturing for you to do the same in front of him. You obliged him, smoothing your hands down your skirt once you were seated. “How can I help you?”

You met his eyes with a directness that surprised him a little.

“I want to divorce my husband,” you said.

To say it shocked the room would be an understatement. Behind you, Dean gave his brother a pair of raised brows. Sam didn’t allow himself to react too much in order to remain professional, but he still tilted his head, blinking, before he focused on you again.

“What’s your husband’s name?” he asked.

“Michael. Michael Milligan.”

“Why do you want a divorce, Mrs. Milligan?” 

Here, your gaze fell to the folded hands in your lap. 

“I have reason to believe he’s been unfaithful,” you quietly replied.

Once again, there was a pregnant pause.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Sam said. His sympathy was genuine, because he could see the way you’d hesitated to say the words, like they embarrassed you, shamed you, and saddened you all at once. 

“But I have to ask,” he added, “do you have proof?”

Dean glanced his way, his brow raising once again. Sam knew what he was thinking, just as he saw how you frowned as well. But there was a reason why he asked, and it wasn’t to be unkind.

You sighed. “What kind of proof?” 

“Pictures. Letters. A witness. Something of legal standing that we can use as leverage and as grounds to grant you a divorce, whether he wants it or not,” Sam said. 

You let out another heavy breath through your nose. “No, I don’t have anything like that.”

“Then what makes you so sure he’s steppin’ out?” Dean chimed in. By now he was leaning against the wall, off to the side where he could smoke with the window cracked open. It let in the sounds of cars and distant honking, people traversing the sidewalks. 

You turned in your seat to give him a tight look. “If you must know, there’ve been…signs. I won’t trouble you with the details, but I’m sure.”

You met Dean’s gaze, and then Sam’s firmly. 

“So will you help me?” you asked him. Sam nodded.

“Yes, I’ll look into your husband and try to find some evidence of his…extracurricular affairs.”

Your lips pursed. “And how long will it take?”

Since you were being so direct, Sam levelled you with honesty.

“It may take time,” he said. “Realistically, we’re looking at months, even after I find what we need… It would be easier to legally separate.”

You had been slowly deflating the more he spoke, but now your expression became stony.

“Mr. Winchester,” you began. “I don’t want to just be separated. I don’t want to live in our apartment, let alone share his bed or wear his last name.”

Despite your best efforts, your voice began to shake. Tears welled up and stung in your eyes.

“I don’t want anything from him, other than his signature on the damn papers,” you said. “The case is that I can no longer tolerate that man in my sight, much less in my life. Will you help me? Or should I look for another lawyer who will actually do his job.”

Sam and Dean shared a glance. For his part, Dean couldn’t remember the last time he heard a woman curse. Despite your outburst, the tears clinging to your lashes stirred both men.

“I understand, Mrs. Milligan,” Sam said. “I’ll help you. Don’t worry.”

He began to look for his handkerchief, but you retrieved one of your own from your purse and quickly dabbed at your eyes, sniffling. You were embarrassed.

“What about your fee?” you said, withdrawing your checkbook. “I, um…I have a little money stashed away. I’ve always worked, you see.”

Sam nodded and went over what his rate would be going forward. Once the two of you came to an agreement, you signed the first check right then and there, even though he felt bad for even taking it from you.

You were still sniffling, and twice you dabbed under your eyes to make sure your face was dry. When you handed over the check, your hands shook, just a little. Sam wouldn’t tell you that he discounted his usual rate.  

Again, he mentioned that he would need some time first to investigate your husband and begin collecting evidence for your case. He asked you for any documents you could safely bring him of your finances, for example. You agreed to do an investigation of your own.

“Just be careful,” Dean cautioned. He was getting an idea of what kind of man your husband was, but Dean couldn’t be too sure of what the man was capable of. He’d hate to hear of a girl like you getting hurt over a few papers.

Dean put out the bud of his cigarette on the ashtray lying on the windowsill. He pushed off the wall to approach where you and Sam were getting to your feet. You gave Dean a nod of acknowledgement.

“I will,” you agreed. “Thank you both. I’m sorry I’ve taken up so much of your time, but I’ll be heading home now.”

“Did you take a bus or a taxi?” Sam asked.

“Oh, I walked,” you replied, and you checked your watch as you gathered up your purse. You headed for the coatrack, but Dean got there first, helping you into your beige wool coat. It went nicely with the burgundy you had on, namely on your painted lips.

“Thank you,” you said to him, but you still didn’t smile. You were a hint demurer now. It seemed with Sam’s promised help, the fire had dimmed behind your eyes and your tongue.

“How about I give you an escort, make sure you get home okay?” Dean found himself offering. “It’s getting pretty late on a Friday.”

Sam shot him a knowing look, but Dean ignored him, instead focusing on your face.

You hesitated. “It’s a bit far though. Out of your way, I’m sure.”

“All the more reason that you shouldn’t go it alone at this time of night,” he argued.

You considered his offer, and him, with a quick perusal. You seemed to be judging for yourself if he was trustworthy. Dean kept his posture straight, yet relaxed. Maybe he’d liked what he saw the moment he took you in, but after hearing your situation, he felt for you. It really was just an honest offer to walk you home.

“Where did you serve?” you asked. “The Army, the Navy, or the Air Forces?”

The question took him off guard for a beat, but he answered you.

“The Army,” he replied.

“Your rank?”

“I was a sergeant, ma’am.”

You looked at him a little more shrewdly, then you relaxed.

“I might’ve guessed,” you said. “All right, Sergeant. Let’s go then.”

You buttoned up your coat and turned to leave the office. Dean shot his little brother a raise of his brows and a what do ya know? kind of smile. He grabbed his dark brown jacket and hat and followed you out.

Sam’s smile was more reserved, with a shake of his head. He closed the door behind you and Dean and locked it. He still had some work he wanted to finish before tomorrow, and Dean’s little show of chivalry would give him time to do it.

Dean had his hands in his coat pockets as he walked with you down the long city sidewalk. Night had drawn into the November sky, but with all these lights, he couldn’t see many stars. It was also cold as all hell. The frigid wind slapped at him every time they turned the corner of a building, snapping right into his bones.

Still, he supposed there was a kind of attractiveness to the city at night. The stores and their signs were all lit up gold and other neon colors. Couples and families walked together, all done up nice for wherever dinner reservation or movie they were trying to get to. It begged the question of what your husband was doing right now if he didn’t notice his wife out at this time of night.

“Where’s your husband tonight, if I might ask?” said Dean.

You shot him a look, reading between his lines.

“He claims to be working late virtually every night of the weekdays,” you said, “but he usually comes home stinking of alcohol.” Your eyes dimmed, even with the pretty lights shining in them. “He was in the Army as well. A corporal. He’s had a hard time adjusting to being back home, and I know that… He doesn’t sleep very well. And do you know, he had a hard time finding work for a while too. Luckily, he has his father’s business to fall back on.”

Dean tried not to show how much your words resonated with him. He didn’t think it a good thing to have common ground with your husband, if he was the kind of man you said he was.

“Yeah? What’s his business?” he asked.

“He manages a meat production plant, of all things,” you said.

“Ah, located in the Meat Packing District, I presume?”

“You’d presume right.”

Dean nodded. “I get it. I inherited the family home back in Lawrence. I just need to figure out what’s next.”

“Lawrence?”

“Kansas.”

“Oh, the Midwest,” you inclined your head. “What’s it like there?”

Dean scoffed. “Dusty.”

You almost laughed at that. At least it earned him your first smile of the night.

“Do you have an idea of what you’ll do for work?” you asked.

Dean chuckled. “Not just yet. Didn’t plan that far, you know?”

“Why not?” you asked.

“Hmm. Guess I didn’t see the point,” he replied with a mild shrug. It hid a deeper, darker well inside him. The part of him that hadn’t thought he’d make it back home after the war.  

You turned to him then, and you saw it behind his eyes. The two of you walked in silence for a little while as the neighborhood blocks began to shift and change, becoming somewhat quieter, more residential. Dean put himself between you and the sidewalk when a taxi zoomed by too close to the curb, resting a hand on the small of your back for protection.

Part of you trilled inside at the small touch, but you immediately beat that reaction down. Dean Winchester was an attractive man, to be sure. His hair was a lighter brown than his brother’s, and shorter too. He had an air of roguishness about him, even though he’d been perfectly pleasant so far.

But by the way he eyed you when you came into the law office, you had a strong feeling he was a flirt. You had no room for that in your life, and not only because you were still a married woman.

Yet, there was something about him that…well, made you curious.

“I was a nurse,” you said eventually, earning his attention. “I was there when they liberated Paris.”

Dean turned to you with newfound interest lighting his green eyes. “You were at Normandy.”

You nodded. “For a while. Almost a year before D-Day.”

Dean let out a short, if humorless chuckle, running a hand through his hair.

“Well, that’s where I was. At that time, at least,” he said. You gave him a similar look; respect, and perhaps finding a kindred spirit.

“I did what I could do before, during, and afterwards,” you said. “I think that’s all we can do now, Mr. Winchester.”

“Call me Dean,” he said. “If you like.”

A second smile almost tugged at your lips. You nodded in agreement.

“Dean,” you said.

In another ten minutes, he was walking you up to your porch at your apartment building. You travelled up the four small steps, while Dean stopped at the second one. For the first time, you had the vantage point above him as you turned on your heel to face him. You were about to thank him when he shook his head, scoffing.

“This guy must be dumb, deaf, and blind, sweetheart,” he said.

Your face warmed in a blush, and you gave a rueful smile when you realized what he meant. He was looking up at you like someone who couldn’t understand your plight. You knew the feeling.

“That’s kind of you, but you don’t have to do that,” you said.  

His brows furrowed. “Do what?” 

“Try to make me feel better,” you said, scuffing the toe of your sensible heels against the brick platform. Dean crossed his arms. 

“Why not?” he asked.

“Because the fact of the matter is, Sergeant, words don’t move me anymore.” You picked up your gaze from the ground, and you met his. “Flattery is just a pretty way of lying, and I’ve grown to really, truly hate lying.” 

It took him a moment, but Dean nodded.

“I guess that’s fair,” he said. He had to stop himself before he proved your point with a smart word on your pretty smile. Although, it wouldn’t have been a lie. He tipped his hat up. “Goodnight then, Mrs. Milligan.” 

You stopped him from leaving with just your voice. 

“Please,” you said, your eyes briefly closing. “Just…call me by my name. My first name.” 

Dean slowly smiled. “Perfect. I like your name better anyway.” 

This time, your smile in return was genuine, if tinged with amusement. 

“Goodnight, Dean,” you replied.

He gave you a charming grin and a more casual soldier’s salute. Then he stuck his hands back in his pockets, turned on his heel, and began to walk back the way he came. You couldn’t help but watch him go for a second or two. His legs were slightly bowed under his slacks, you noticed.

With a blush, you shook your head to rid yourself of those silly thoughts. You closed the door.

That night, Michael came home late, as usual—this time at two in the morning. He reeked of alcohol, also per usual, but this time when he rolled over towards you in bed to say goodnight, you stiffened. He also smelled like a woman’s perfume. Expensive stuff. 

This was one of those signs you hadn’t wanted to tell Sam Winchester. Frankly, it was crude and embarrassing.

“Sorry it’s so late, darling. Got held up,” he said, kissing your shoulder through your nightgown. His fingers played with the ends of your hair while you laid facing away from him.

You squeezed your eyes shut. You were fighting every instinct you had inside you that wanted to recoil from his touch and bolt out of the bed. When just a few months ago, his touch was all you craved, almost desperately so. 

“Where were you?” you asked. Somehow, you kept your voice steady and calm. “You weren’t at the office all this time.”

“Had a couple of drinks with the guys after,” he said with a shrug. “Sorry. The night got away from us, but, uh…I’ll be home on time for dinner tomorrow.”

With your back turned to him, you were able to roll your eyes.

“What’d you make tonight, outta curiosity?” he asked.

“Egg salad sandwiches,” you replied flatly. 

“Hmm. No real loss there then.” 

Your teeth clenched. “If I thought you were actually going to be home when you said you would, maybe I would make a rump roast with all the fixings.” 

Michael paused, but then, he grasped your shoulder, slowly turned you around in the bed until you were facing him. His face was sterner. 

“Excuse me?” 

You remained quiet. Your gaze travelled downwards, avoiding his.

Michael huffed, shaking his head. “Sometimes you got a real mouth on you. One of these days, you just might regret it.” 

He turned his back on you, laying on his side. You did the same while trying to stem your tears.

When did this become your life?

AN: Oof, sorry for all that angst at the end there, but I hope you liked the first chapter! Did you enjoy soldier!Dean and soldier/lawyer!Sam? Do you want to find a dark alley for Michael yet? 😅

And are you ready for what's coming up next? 😘

Next Time:

Dean both could and couldn’t believe it. He might not have been a saint himself when it came to the fairer sex, but if he went through the whole ordeal of marrying one, let alone a straight-shooting woman like you, beautiful, clever…

“Geez,” he muttered. “He could’ve at least waited until the ink dried on the certificate.” 

Sam nodded in agreement. He picked up the receipt to the Cotton Club, and he shot his brother a grin.

“Wanna go to the club tonight?”

Read Part 2 on Patreon! || Coming to Tumblr/Ao3 on 2/14

Join My Patreon 🌟 Get early access to new stories, bonus content, and first looks at upcoming stories, send me requests, and more!

Between the City & the Stars Masterlist

Jacklesverse Bingo Masterlist

Dean Winchester Series List

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Follow @zepskieswrites (with notifications on) to get notified every time I drop a new story or chapter. 💜

Dean Winchester Tag List (Part 1)

@luci-in-trenchcoats @lamentationsofalonelypotato @winchestergirl2 @deans-spinster-witch @roseblue373

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @foxyjwls007 @mostlymarvelgirl @thebiggerbear

@globetrotter28 @midnightmadwoman @chevroletdean @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78

@waywardxwords @waynes-multiverse @twinkleinadiamondsky @my-stories-vault @kayleighwinchester

@rizlowwritessortof @k-slla @jackles010378 @alwaystiredandconfused @nancymcl

@this-is-me19 @spnwoman @illicithallways @pieandmonsters @deansbbyx

@mimaria420 @stoneyggirl2 @fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like @cheynovak @jollyhunter

@deanwinchestersgirl87 @rachiem4-blog @leigh70 @aylacavebear @jessjad

@kmc1989 @siampie @rubyvhs @masked-lost-girl @spnbabe67

@deanbrainrotwritings @alwaystiredandconfused @impala-dreamer @legalmente-loca @sanscas

Loving baby!reader

baby!reader deadass lives in my head rent free. thank you for your service

U ARE SO WELCOME 😭 BABY!READER TAKING OVER THE DAHLIAVERSE RN. lemme entertain the ppl again with her but just a lil as i'm multitasking atm.

baby!reader mansplaining to dean how to fix the car he has to work on

like how men do with girls thinking they simply cannot know how to fix a car because they are literally pretty princesses with no coherent thoughts ever

but it's baby!reader explaining it to dean bc yes dean you do know what you're doing but i know it better

OR BETTER: baby!reader explaining it to brash and gruff mechanics when dean can't fix the car himself

too far from any bunker or bobby's place or anything to do it himself so he has to take it to a shop and he's alr pissy

but then he sees u getting talked down to just bc u are a pretty girl and HE'S ABOUT TO STEP IN. BC U ARE SOOOO PRETTY BUT U COULD TALK CIRCLES AROUND THESE PEOPLE

AND U ARE TOO SWEET TO NOTICE THAT THESE MEN ARE SAYING ALL OF THESE THINGS TO PICK ON YOU

but he never ever should doubt u because there u go, stepping right up to those mechanics and telling them that they're purposely using watered down oil to get dean to bring the car back and charge twice

bc of course u can tell when oil is watered down. u were a car. u know car things.

and dean is SO willing to step back and let u put these men in their place bc really. ..... it's so sexy he's so weak for a powerful woman in a leather jacket </3

btw he does get u a shirt. it's his shirt. it's a band tee he doesn't wear anymore except to sleep. u love it so much.

AND AND AND. ON TOP OF THIS I HAVE TWO BIG CIRCLING THOUGHTS IN MY HEAD ABT THEM RN SO LET ME.

sometime between now in the timeline ( i am literally making up the timeline as we go ) and the first kiss ( WHENEVER OR HOWEVER IT MAY BE 😭 )

dean tells u that u were his first love. bc hello every car guy's first love is his first car

and u are literally so excited it's crazy

like "STOP it. stop it!" GIGGLING KICKING UR FEET

BC U KNOW WHAT !!! DEAN WAS UR FIRST LOVE TOO !!!

AND WAS HE HALF JOKING? YES. BC NO ONE IS ACTUALLY IN LOVE WITH THEIR CAR. BUT U LOVEEDDDD HIM U LOVED HIM !!!! AND NOW HE'S LIKE OH FUCK. HIS BABY LOVES HIM ???

HE PROMPTLY WILL IGNORE ALL OF THOSE BUTTERFLIES AND TRY TO OVERSIMPLIFY IT LIKE "well that makes sense the only other 2 ppl who had u were my dad and granddad and :/ not a good pool!"

but u know what. u would have loved him no matter who he was in relation to u. but u aren't gonna tell him that. at least now when he could expect it. u gotta catch him off guard.

i be like "let me keep this short" and "i'm multitasking" and then make something long asf. LMFAO. BUT THEY'RE IN MY HEAD !!! if u want any of these into a full fic i literally will do it. i cld be talked into it with a simple word of affirmation literally.

guys this is so crazy. omg thank you so much 🫶

𝖜𝖊 𝖍𝖆𝖛𝖊 𝖆𝖑𝖑 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖙𝖎𝖒𝖊 𝖎𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖑𝖉

Summary: when a blizzard hits and traps you and your wife into your new house, you both find the perfect opportunity to christen the whole house. Word Count: 6.5k Warnings/Tags: domestic fluff, dirty talk, thigh riding, shower sex, oral sex, fingering, praise, kitchen sex, grinding, strap-ons, rough sex, spanking, orgasm denial, multiple orgasms, choking, table sex, soft smut, sofa sex, dom rhea/sub reader

the shrill chime of a phone alarm cruelly tore you out of your peaceful slumber, a groan indicating your annoyance leaving your lips instantly, head burying further against your makeshift pillow, the comfortable surface beneath you shaking in a small chuckle. rhea couldn’t stop the inevitable smile that took over her face at your reaction, still amused at how much you hated waking up early, your wife the polar opposite. her arm swiftly reached on the nightstand to turn the noise off, a muffled noise of appreciation leaving you as your head nuzzles further against her chest, the dark haired girl's fingers moving to your hair, softly scratching your scalp.

“i need to get up now,” she murmurs ever so softly, apologetic in her tone as your arms defiantly wrap around her middle, pulling her impossibly closer, legs tangled under the sheets as you refuse to move.

“five more minutes,” you mumble against her, her body shaking momentarily as she huffs out a small laugh, lips pressing against your hair, smile stretching wider as you melt against her body, the embrace lulling you back to your desired sleep.

"i can’t my love,” she whispers, a small noise leaving you. “not all of us have the day off,” she teases, pointing out how she still had to go to work today.

the two of you had finally moved into a larger house outside of the city, wanting to have a proper place of your own as opposed to the apartments in new york or living with damian, meaning you had to find the time to unpack properly and decorate the house in not only your belongings but christmas decorations. you had taken the next couple days off to kick start your new journey in this house, your body begging you to take advantage of the extra sleep you could have before being productive.

“plus, i don’t want h to be annoyed with me right before christmas,” she jokes, knowing how the man she was having a meeting with soon liked to secretly get her a gift, always playing it off coolly, “we both know I’m his favourite.”

“there’s no need to brag,” you mutter, making her laugh softly once again, her body cruelly parting from yours, your eyes gradually fluttering open to squint at her in annoyance, a pout evident on your face. her lips press to yours softly, making the expression switch to a small, shy smile, her eyes gazing at you adoringly as your arms move to grab her pillow, bringing it towards your body to cuddle instead. “now go shower, we don’t want h's favourite to be late,” you grumble playfully, face half smushed against the soft fabric, her angelic laugh filling the room as she listens to your words, knowing she needed to start getting ready.

while rhea was in the shower, your body started to dip in and out of consciousness, gradually falling back asleep, your duvet tucked tightly around you to keep you warm, face pressing further against her pillow, nose picking up her faint scent on it. you smiled at the smell of her, your ears faintly picking up the sound of the shower stopping, mind barely processing it as you continue to fall back into the peaceful slumber you were torn out of.

your eyes only fluttered open when you felt the bed dip next to you, rhea now fully dressed in comfortable sweatpants and a black tank top with 'motionless in white' in bold writing, your gaze flickering over her outfit briefly before meeting her softening sky blue eyes, the various shades overflowing with love and care.

“i’m going now,” she murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead, your lips pulling up into a drowsy smile. “i’ll see you late babe,” she brushes a few strands of your hair out of your face, your eyes meeting hers, conveying your tiredness but also love.

“have fun,” you mumble playfully, knowing how boring these meetings could be, “make sure you wrap up warm,” you remind her, the dark haired girl adamant she couldn’t feel the cold, the way her cheeks and nose redden proving her wrong.

“i will, i will,” she says, holding her hands up in surrender as you reprimand her choice of clothes in cold conditions often, her lips meeting yours one last time before she starts to head out.

rhea leaves you all wrapped up, her eyes lingering on your form as she savours the domesticity of the moment, body soon moving to grab the remainder of her things, grabbing a thick hoodie as you told her to.

soon enough, she’s at the front door, keys jingling in the lock as she twists it, unlocking the door and gently opening it. her eyes widened in surprise, confusion and shock at the mountain of snow piled in front of the door, almost as high as her waist, completely blocking her exit and the entire driveway, no way for her to leave. she curses under her breath, knowing there was absolutely no quick solution for her to get out, the dark haired girl deciding that she was just going to have to let h know the meeting would have to happen without her, explaining her situation.

whilst rhea was sorting out her predicament, you had nodded off once again, quiet snores escaping you as your body stretched across the bed, relishing in the warmth and comfortable surface as much as possible. however, once again you were ripped away from your sleep, a grumble escaping you as you flutter your eyes open at the noise, rhea's figure barely visible in the corner of your eye. you tilted your head to get a better look at her, confusion on your face as you started to watch her remove her shirt, her head tilting as she senses you wake up, smile playing on her lips.

“did i sleep all day?” you question, tone bewildered and full of disbelief.

“you’ve been asleep since i left?” rhea teases, purposely faking an expression of shock, trying her best to hide her smile at the way you sit up in bed, rubbing your eyes to try and wake up, seemingly confused as to where you were, what time it was, and what had happened.

“what-” your eyes meet hers, noticing the hint of mischief in them, your eyes then instantly going to the small clock on your nightstand, reading the time and groaning. you flop back onto the bed dramatically earning a soft laugh from the dark haired girl, her now in an old sleep shirt and comfortable joggers, climbing onto the bed. “you’re so mean,” you grumble, not too pleased with her little joke, your hands wrapping around her pillow and whacking her with it will the little strength you could be bothered mustering, her fingers wrapping around it and pulling it out of your grasp.

“i really am,” she chuckles out, “i’m just so cruel,” her tone dropping an octave as her body moves to straddle yours, fingers caressing your waist, cold hands meeting your warm skin as your shirt hitched up. “what can I do to make it up to my dear wife?” her voice playful and teasing, your eyes opening to meet her amused blue, an inevitable smile pulling at your lips, hands reaching out for her body.

“help her decorate the house,” you say, eyes flickering between her teeth biting down on her lip gently, fingers sliding under her shirt, drawing idle circles against her soft, creamy skin.

“is that all?” she murmurs, leaning down so that her lips are ghosting yours, teasingly brushing against yours in an intoxicating manner, heat instantly consuming your body. you can feel a couple strands of her hair brush your cheeks, her eyes darkening as she tilts her head, barely putting any pressure on your lips as you gaze into her blue with a lustful look.

“hmm let me think,” you murmur, pretending to ponder the thought, arms wrapping loosely around her neck, pulling her body closer to yours, her entire weight pressing into you. “kiss me,” you whisper, her obliging and connecting your lips intimately, a sensual sigh leaving both of you. the kiss was loaded with a tenderness and affection that made your heart melt in your chest, the slow pace allowing you both to savour every little feeling and sensation you caused each other. your heart drummed wildly in your chest, wet mouths moving together languidly and her teeth scraping over your lips while her hands are firm with their touch at your waist, one moving to cup your cheek to deepen the kiss.

eventually, you pull away from each other, her body moving to lay next to you as you smile against her, lips still pressing against each other as you couldn’t resist her, your mind soon catching up with the fact that she was still home, the meeting with h entering your mind.

“you’re not skiving the meeting are you?” you mumble into a kiss, her laughing softly against you as you raise a brow at her, head resting against the pillow as you search her eyes for an answer. the blue softens at your words, fingers brushing your hair back away from your eyes, then settling on brushing over your cheeks, her expression loving as you wait for her response.

“no angel,” she softly chuckles, “i can’t go anymore,” your brows furrow at her words. “we’ve been snowed in,” she explains, your expression switching from confusion to amusement, a soft laugh leaving you at the ridiculous scenario.

“oh no,” you manage out, humour evident in your tone as it was just such a shame you were going to be trapped in your house with your wife all day. “what are we going to do?” your tone still light-hearted and playful, her lips tugging up into that signature smirk of hers.

“i can think of a few things,” she purrs, her hands slipping under your shirt and rising, teasingly ghosting the underside of your breasts, your brow rising at her bold move.

“oh yeah?” your tone fauxing innocence as you loll your head back, letting her lips move to the underside of your jaw, placing soft kisses and occasionally nipping on your skin, earning a soft gasp every time. “tell me them,” you murmur, hands going to her hair, ruffling the dark locks, gently scratching the shaved underside of her head as she sucks a mark on your neck, pierced tongue lathing over sensitive skin, arousal swiftly pooling between your thighs.

“i say we christen the whole house,” she jokes, the two of you only having had sex in the bedroom as you had only moved in this week, the furniture around the house already set up. “i want to watch you come on my fingers, my face, my cock,” you groan at her dirty words, her hands cupping your breasts, touch confident as you arch your back closer to her, desperate to feel the pleasure that she’s promising you.

“fuck,” you sigh out, the idea something you definitely want to try, mouth parting at the feeling of her knee slotting between your thighs, your clit brushing against her toned leg perfectly. “please,” you sigh out, her lips ascending up your neck and along your jaw, coaxing you to lower your head to meet her addictive lips, eyes fluttering close in pleasure as your hips slowly roll against her, heat bubbling in your lower abdomen.

“yeah? You like the idea, angel?” she rasps against your lips, accent wrapping around her words making your head start to spin with desire and arousal. “show me how much you want it,” she purrs, one hand slipping from under your shirt to guide your hips against her leg more securely, a low moan leaving your lips.

“shit, rhea,” you pants out, hips rolling harder against her muscular thigh, a smirk playing on her lips at the way your face contorts with pleasure, forehead leaning against hers. her fingers teasingly ghosted over your nipples, mouth still relentless as she slides her tongue against yours, firm and dominant as you whimper at her taunting touch, desperate for her. you can feel her smirk into the kiss at your submissive noise, teeth gently nipping her lower lip to put some sort of fight for dominance up, her tongue effortlessly sliding back into your mouth and stealing your breath away. “please, I want it so bad,” you groan, panting into her mouth, going back for kiss after kiss, refusing to part from her mouth, “i want you to ruin me. everywhere,” your hips roll a little faster, a low groan escaping her at your words, lips lingering against each other when you part from her to gasp in pleasure, her tensing her thigh pleasantly for you to continue grinding against.

“you’re already ruined angel,” she teases, her thumb brushing over your nipple, her pinching on it softly to make you gasp lewdly into her mouth, hip bucking against her leg harder, a desperate noise leaving you. “i’ve barely touched you and I bet you’re dripping,” she husks out, hips stuttering against her thigh as your fingers tighten their hold on her dark locks, keeping her as close as possible while her hands slide down your body to your ass, firmly gripping onto you and guiding you along her thigh at a consistent pace, your hips faltering at the pleasurable sensation.

“rhea,” your tone a breathless sigh, laced with desire as your first release of the day approaches swiftly, a low chuckle escaping her at your needy tone, “fuck.”

“oh baby, are you going to come already?” she teases, tone a little condescending making your cheeks heat up with humiliation, warmth pooling between your thighs at her words, a whimper leaving you. Her teeth gently bite down on your lip before releasing it, her tongue soothing over the dull pain as you whine again, her eyes meeting your desperate ones while your hips are pulled along her thigh, clit brushing perfectly against the toned muscle.

“shit,” you sigh out, another wave of pleasure taking over your body, your lips captured once again in a passionate kiss. “yes,” you confess shyly in between a heated kiss, her eyes raking over your desperate form, eyes squeezed shut, lips kiss swollen and constantly searching for hers, hips rutting against her thigh like your life depended on it. “please, i’m so close,” you murmur, feeling her smirk into the next messy kiss.

“come for me angel,” she whispers, a desperate noise leaving you as you crash into your release.

with a final roll of your hips, your body tensed against hers, a string of moans being muffled by her incessant mouth while pleasure consumed you entirely, your hands shooting down to her hips, pulling her impossibly closer. her hands slowed your movements against her thigh, letting you buck against her as you rode out the last waves of your orgasm, body melting against hers as you panted for breath.

her gentle breath caressed your lips as you eventually opened your eyes, shamelessly smiling at her and claiming her lips once more, her mirroring your expression and smiling into the kiss, fingers moving to rest at your hips. her blues soften as the gaze lingers, her brow raising subtly at the mischief that appears in your eyes, the way you sinfully bite on your lower lip also gaining her attention.

“where next?”

your back swiftly met the cold tiles behind you, back arching off the wall at the contrast in temperature between your body and the surface, rhea kissing you apologetically as she pins you to the wall in the shower. your hand blindly reaches for the controls, turning on the water to have it running down your bodies, warming the rest of you up as heat was already building between your thighs, her lips attached to your jaw as your head lolls back, smiles playing on your lips.

your hands roam her naked body, caressing every inch of skin you could reach tenderly, touch growing in confidence as you work your way up and down her body, eventually settling on sliding your hand to her core, hearing her breath hitch as her mouth ghosted yours.

“i want you to use me,” you murmured against her lips, tone laced with submission, rhea groaning into a lewd kiss while her hands moved to your hair, brushing the wet strands back away from your face. her lips press against your lips messily, tongue sliding into your mouth briefly, earning a desperate whimper before she smirks into the kiss as her mind runs wild with sinful thoughts.

“on your knees, angel,” she rasps out, flipping your positions so she could lean against the tiles, her fingers threading through your soaked locks and guiding you onto the floor. you can't stop the small curse that leaves your lips as you settle on your knees, hands sliding down her perfectly sculpted body, fingers gliding over toned muscle and soft curves, resting on the back of her tattooed thighs as you peer up at her, her fingers caressing your cheek gently. “you look so pretty on your knees for me,” she murmurs, another groan leaving you as your lips move to pepper kisses along her thighs, eyes still trained on her, watching how her blues darken with desire.

your hands gently prompt her to spread her legs further, your mouth moving to kiss her core, lips deftly wrapping around her clit and sucking gently, a low moan escaping her. the noise goes straight to your core, the huskiness to her voice making your head spin, the taste of her on your tongue further fogging your mind with arousal as your mouth explored her wet sex. you moaned into her core at the feeling of her fingers pushing you closer to where she desperately needed you, nuzzling your face closer so that your mouth was covered in her slick, tongue swiping through her folds, teasing her entrance before moving to softly lick at her clit, a low groan being dragged out of her.

“fuck, just like that,” her voice raspy and low, your eyes fluttering open and peering up at her, a small noise leaving you at the sight of her. Her head was lolled back against the tiles, dark strands sticking to her forehead while her free hand went to her chest, groping at the soft flesh while her hips started to rock against your face, your eyes admiring her beauty. her sharp jawline caught your attention as you couldn’t take your eyes off of her, fingers drifting closer to her core as you needed to see her, hear her, fall apart from your sinful touch.

you slid a finger into her effortlessly, a guttural noise escaping her when you curl it at her sweet spot, her fingers tightening in your hair while her hips buck, her blue eyes casting their gaze down to look at you, her mouth parting as you keep the eye contact. with her blue eyes entranced by you, you slide in another finger and suck on her clit harder, pleasure and arousal coursing through you both at the action.

“angel,” she moans and your entire body reacts to how she moans your name, arousal instantly consuming you, the throb between your thighs incessant. “that’s it, good girl,” she pants out softly, her orgasm swiftly approaching as you thrust your fingers into her a little faster, curling them perfectly each time, the praise making you moan into her core.

the vibrations make her hips buck once more, your free hand lifting one of her thighs and guiding it to rest over your shoulder, letting her roll her hips against your hand easier as well as allowing you to swirl your tongue around her more comfortably, the ache in your jaw being ignored as you had to see her come undone.

you can tell she’s getting closer as her moans grow a little louder, her hips grinding against you a little frantically, chasing her release as you flatten your tongue, letting her use you as you wanted. her reactions encourage you to keep going, hips rolling harder against you, basically fucking your face as her fingers tighten their grip in your wet hair, keeping you as close as possible.

“fuck, i’m so close,” she groans out, focussing all of your attention towards her clit to drive her over the edge, her walls clenching around you desperately signalling how close she truly was. “baby,” she moaned, ragged breaths spilling from her lips before a guttural noise escaped her, body about to crash into her release. “don’t stop,” she groans out sinfully, back arching off the tiles and neck straining as her head lolls back, pleasure consuming her entire body as her hips rock against you, desperately chasing the waves of her high while your fingers and tongue continue to please her.

you waited until her hand softly pushed you away, working her through her aftershocks before settling on peppering kisses to her inner thighs, forehead resting against her soft skin as it was just so addictive, your entire body somehow longing for more of her.

“come here,” she murmurs softly, guiding you back up to meet her lips, the kiss a clash of teeth and tongue as you languidly explore each other's mouths, the dark haired girl moaning at the taste of herself. the kiss eventually fades away as you both lean against one another, her arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you impossibly closer, a smile tugging on her lips as you both relax under the warm spray for a moment.

after you’ve savoured the moment enough, you eventually start to wash each other’s bodies, relishing in the intimacy before deciding to have some food to recharge, an idea entering rhea's mind, one she knows you're going to love.

breakfast was filled with domesticity as you simply sat with each other, relishing in the peacefulness of the moment together as your shoulders brushed, her tatted hand resting on your thigh, thumb tracing idle patterns against your skin while her other hand cared for a warm cup of coffee. it was the perfect moment, the two of you relaxing and recharging as planned before rhea announced she was going to grab something, your mind not paying too much attention to it as you moved to place your empty coffee cup near the sink, leisurely moving around the kitchen and letting your eyes scan over the living room, planning on how to decorate it with all the christmas decorations.

your arms braced your body against the countertop as you got lost in thought, mind picturing the best location for the christmas tree you were going to buy tomorrow, eyes flickering between two corners.

you jumped a little when a pair of muscular tatted arms wrapped around your body from behind, instantly relaxing at the familiar perfume that invaded your senses, a small smile growing on your lips as you lean backwards to rest against her body, eyebrows raising at the feeling of something between her legs, a low groan escaping you.

“what are you thinking so hard about?” she innocently muses, head resting against your shoulder, hands drifting down your barely covered body, resting at the waistband of your panties as you both decided there was no point in dressing properly, the house warm enough.

“where we’re going to put the tree,” you murmur back, going along with her innocent act, pushing your hips back further against the strap on, her lips pressing against your neck, teeth scraping over sensitive skin. “which corner do you think it would look better in?” you ask, moving your hands down your body to meet hers, guiding her hand to slide your panties to the side, wanting to feel the toy buried deep inside you.

“hmm the corner near the tv so we see it more often,” she answers, nipping gently on your neck while her hand moves to position the toy near your entrance, slowly grinding her hips against you, teasing you as much as possible.

the throb between your thighs is relentless as you feel the tip of the toy slide in and out of you tauntingly, rhea’s lips pulling into a smirk as she hears the small groan of annoyance leaving your lips.

“rhea,” you sigh out, tilting your head back to peer into her eyes, the green completely replaced with darkness and desire, body flush against yours as she continues to roll her hips, dragging the toy up and down your dripping folds.

“tell me how you want it,” she murmurs, lips ghosting yours, finally settling the toy at your entrance and slowly thrusting it in, a wave of pleasure flowing through you as her hips press into you, pinning you against the countertop, your hands bracing your body.

“rough,” your tone an affected whisper, "please, just fuck me.” her eyes somehow darken even more at your words, a dominant glint appearing in her eyes as she pulled the toy out of you, thrusting it in a little harder, her hands gliding over your body, eager to give you what you want.

“remember to use your safe words whenever you need to,” she reminds caringly before kissing your lips briefly, feeling you nod into the kiss before her hands move to between your shoulder blades, guiding you to lean forwards, bending you over the kitchen counter.

with every touch, you felt your body burn at the sensation, heat building swiftly at the pit of your lower abdomen as your hands reached across the cool surface, her hands sliding down your body to rest on your hips, the toy being slid out of you until only the tip remained in. when a desperate noise escaped you, she thrusted her hips into you hard, a broken moan leaving you at the pleasure that jolted through you, the feeling of it being buried so deep inside you making your head spin with desire.

your fingers pressed harder into the countertop, desperately trying to hold onto something as the room quickly fills with the lewd sounds of your moans, pants and the sound of the toy repeatedly being drilled into you, her pace merciless and rough as promised, hands gripping your waist tightly as she pounds into you in the middle of the kitchen.

“shit,” her tone low and raspy as her eyes can’t tear away from the sight of her cock being swallowed by your cunt, your arousal coating the toy. “you’re taking me so well angel,” she pants out, her hands guiding you to lift one of your legs up onto the countertop, spreading you out for her, the toy reaching even deeper inside you and hitting your sweet spot with every single thrust at the new position.

“fuck,” your moans grow louder as she snaps her hips into you, her tatted hand wrapping around your raised thigh flexing the veins slightly. helping you keep the flexible position, fingers digging in to create a pleasurable dull pain, your mind completely fogged with the thought of her and the toy being pumped mercilessly into you. “just like that, shit, don’t stop,” you beg with a submissive and desperate tone, rhea moving her hand to spank you roughly, knowing just how you like it, earning another loud noise to reverberate around the room, your eyes squeezed shut at the overwhelming feeling of pleasure consuming you.

“you want more angel?” she pants, her hand rubbing over the reddening area, soothing the skin as she continues to drill her hips into you, strings of moans and chants of her name spilling from your lips.

“please, again,” you whimper, her hand roughly colliding with your other cheek, a red mark forming where her hand had just spanked. “rhea,” you groan after another spank, her dominance somehow making you even wetter, the mix of pain and pleasure causing the heat between your thighs to become intolerable, a pathetic whimper leaving you.

“oh angel,” she coos, her hands soothing once more over your sensitive skin before sliding to your core, fingers brushing your clit and making your body jerk against her, a lewd noise escaping you at the buzz of pleasure that washed through you. “you wanted me to be rough, can’t you handle it?” she teases, tone a little condescending, her sultry voice further adding to the warmth pooling between your legs, walls clenching around the toy desperately.

“i can-fuck, i can take it,” you manage out, her finger firmly circling your clit, body acting on its own as you try to push your hips back in time with her movements, your orgasm rapidly approaching at the vast amount of euphoria and pleasure coursing through you.

“are you sure about that, baby?” she husks out, her hips thrusting harder and deeper into you, more pleasure flooding through you, your body on the edge of another powerful release. “hold it,” her tone leaves no room for argument, a displeased and pitiful noise leaving you, body begging to let your release crash over you.

“rhea,” you plead, her hands snaking around your waist and guiding you to stand again, the toy cruelly being pulled out of you when she can tell you can’t hold it anymore, an annoyed groan leaving you as she turns you around.

her lips silence your frustrated noises, hands going to the back of your thighs, lifting you up, your legs instinctively wrapping around her waist as her tongue slides into your mouth, dominating the heated kiss as she carries you to the dining table nearby, placing you on the edge of it, lips refusing to part.

her show of strength has you moaning into her mouth, gasping in pleasure when she slides the toy back into you, the guttural noise being swallowed by her mouth, lips hot and feverish, partly sucking on yours to drag more noises out of you, arms braced by your side and hips rutting up into you.

“fuck,” you groan, the noise muffled by the wet sounds of your mouths, the feeling of her firm tongue dominating your mouth making you delirious with arousal, the toy that was being thrusted deep inside you making it even harder to think.

“angel,” she pants out and it’s sinful that someone can sound so hot, a whine leaving you as the tip of the toy hits your weak spot repeatedly, eyes squeezed shut with pleasure while her hand moves to your throat, applying pressure that has you whimpering. “look at me,” she commands, your eyes fluttering open as your mouth parts, broken noises being ripped out of you while more arousal pools between your thighs at her predatory look.

the feeling of her hand at your throat, hips mercilessly pounding into you and your previous release being denied has you right back on the edge already, a hint of embarrassment filling you at how quickly she was able to have you begging once again, the shame vanishing at the look of pure desire and hunger in her eyes as she needed to see you come undone for her right now.

“please,” you manage out, eyes pleading with her, her lips once again meeting yours, addicted and intoxicated by each other as you refuse to part for a moment, your hands moving from her body to ruffle her hair, keeping her as close as possible. “i’m so close, please don’t stop,” your tone breathless, her hand still firmly wrapped around your throat, lips parting from yours but you chase them, leaning in and panting against her mouth softly, claiming them to try and muffle your moans.

“come for me,” she groans into your mouth, a string of saliva forming between your mouths before you crash them together again, a low, guttural noise being ripped from the back of your throat when your body is finally thrown into your release.

your moans become unrestricted as your orgasm floods through you powerfully, body buzzing with satisfaction as you clench around the toy, obeying her words as you come all over the strap, vision blurring with pleasure. your fingers tighten their grip on her hair, earning a small hiss from her while her teeth gently nip on your lip, a groan leaving you as you roll your hips as best you can, trying to ride out the last waves of pleasure.

rhea’s lips softly pepper kisses around your face as you recover, a smile pulling at your lips at her gentle and tender action, arms wrapping around her neck loosely, forehead resting against hers while soft pants fill the room.a surprised squeak leaves you when she lifts you off the table, your legs once again wrapping around her securely, face hiding at the crook of her neck as she takes you over to the sofa, falling back gently onto it, having your body straddle her lap.

your lips press a lewd kiss to her neck, tongue licking a stripe over her warm and addictive skin, her head lolling back against the soft cushions behind her, baring her soft skin for you to mark. teeth scrape ever so gently against her skin, earning a small groan from the dark haired girl as you pull back to see her darkened blue, her hands caressing the skin of your hips as they slide under your loose t-shirt, her mouth tugging up into that signature smirk.

you can’t help but let your gaze flicker across her features, admiring them all and subtly biting on your lip, eyes descending down her sharp jawline and the creamy skin of her neck, trailing lower and gazing lustfully at her breasts, the shape of them visible through her shirt. your mind couldn’t help but think back to the many times you’ve had your head between them, lips wrapped around her nipples to drag out sinful sounds, eyes peering up at her aroused state as she would guide you lower, eager to feel your mouth on her lower.

you were snapped out of the various thoughts by her tipping your chin up to make you look into her amused blue, her brow slightly raised.

“my eyes are up here angel,” she teases leaning forwards to press her mouth to yours, a smile on both of your lips as the pace is slow and intimate, your hands resting on her shoulders as hers wrap around your waist, lifting you up and guiding your back down onto the toy, a low moan leaving your lips.

“i can’t get enough of you,” she mumbles into a slow and tender kiss, her hands softly guiding you up and down the toy once more, your lips parting to gasp into her mouth at the feeling, the new angle having pleasure slowly spark through your body, the slower and more intimate pace having your heart melt in your chest, mind unable to comprehend how much you love her. “i’ll never get enough of you,” she whispers into a kiss, a small whine leaving you as your hips raise and sink back down onto the toy, her hand drifting lower to your ass, guiding your movements, the base of the strap grinding against her dripping core.

“fuck, rhea,” you murmur, your eyes meeting her darkened but loving gaze, the heat between your thighs doubling at the mere glance, eyes squeezing shut at the wave of pleasure that consumed you when her hand moved between your bodies, finding your clit to slowly push you over the edge. “i love you,” you softly pant into her mouth, breath fanning over her lips as you struggled to kiss her back, breathless from the overwhelming feeling of pleasure and love coursing through you, the dark haired girl’s smile growing wider.

“i love you too, angel,” she hummed into your mouth, lips stealing occasional kisses as your lips lingered against one another, brushing delicately as your fingers dug in slightly at her shoulders, groaning at her husky tone. “i love this body, the way it reacts to my touch,” she murmurs, lips travelling along your jaw, eventually reaching the shell of your ear and nibbling softly on your earlobe, her sensual breaths making your mind cloud with the thought of her. “the way it’s always at my mercy, the way you're always at my mercy,” she continues with a raspy and sultry tone, her accent beautifully wrapped around her words making you moan lowly, a sigh of pleasure escaping her.

“rhea,” you whine and it’s nothing but desperate, fingers threading through her hair and tugging her head back gently, needing to look at her as your body is once again ready to fall over the edge, her hips leisurely thrusting up into you as your pace becomes more frantic, the base of the toy perfectly brushing over her clit.

“yeah, angel?” she teases in a pant, her free hand moving back to your throat, fingers splaying around your throat softly, applying a small amount of pressure as her hips thrust up harder, chasing her own release.

“please,” is all you can muster, mind not able to produce anything else as your hips bounce hurriedly on the toy buried inside you, her lips silencing the small moans escaping you.

“lose control for me,” she whispers and you can’t help but let out a wanton moan of her name, body tensing in her lap as your release crashes through you. The sight of you, mouth parted and hips rutting against hers, throws rhea into her own orgasm, pleasure consuming you both entirely as you move one another, chasing the last waves of ecstasy together, eventually slowly and relaxing against one another, melting into a tender embrace.

soft pants and gentle breaths filled the room as you relaxed against her comfortable body, rhea resting against you as you both recovered, your fingers threading through her hair in a comforting manner, scratching her scalp tenderly. The dark haired girl’s hands slide up and down your back in a loving caress, warmth fluttering in your chest as your eyes flutter open, meeting her softening blue as she presses her lips softly against you, conveying her love for you into the intimate action.

“i love you,” she whispers once again, your smile growing before you move to hide your face at the comfort of her neck, hands moving to wrap around her body, cuddling closer into her body.

“i love you too,” you murmur, lips pulling up into a teasing smile, rhea feeling the action and awaiting your amusing comment. “but this isn’t getting you out of helping me decorate,” a soft chuckle leaves her lips, body shaking against you as she can’t help but smile, her heart beating wildly with love.

“oh no,” she sighs out dramatically, as if it was the worst thing possible, not minding helping you in the slightest. “we can do that later,” she says, hands caressing down your body, her lips pressing against yours as she smiles into the kiss, your head shaking playfully at her antics, “but right now, i want to cuddle before i have you screaming my name again.” You groan at her words, grinning against her lips, not minding this new mini plan.

“that sounds like an amazing idea,” you whisper amused, unable to wipe the smile off your lips, warmth bubbling in your chest at how much you love this woman.

Bunny

Rafe Cameron x Maybank!Reader

summary: Struggling to keep her and JJ’s home afloat, Y/N turns to the only option that guarantees fast cash- stripping at a club on the Cut. But when Rafe Cameron catches her in the act, he sees the perfect opportunity to tighten his grip around her life.

a/n: I actually said I'd never do another series again but here we are 😼. Looollll anywho, Y/N literally is literally a walking definition of older child syndrome and her and Rafe hate eachother so much stop. This is gonna be such a good enemies to lovers get me outta here

warnings: mentions of drugs, smoking, drinking, a strip club (duh), naked women, drug dealing, aggressive behaviour.

(P2)

The faucet dripped steadily, each drop hitting the rust-stained sink with an echo that filled the quiet of the house. Y/N stood in the cramped bathroom, arms crossed, lips pressed together in frustration as she watched the slow but relentless leak. 

Another thing broken. 

Another thing they couldn’t afford to fix.

She let out a slow breath, running a hand down her face before turning sharply at the sound of footsteps thudding through the hallway. She knew them well—JJ, heading for the door, heading out. Again.

“JJ.” 

Her voice was firm, but it barely slowed him down as he moved through the house, searching for his keys. He muttered, pushing past the worn couch and shoving a hand into the pocket of his frayed shorts.

“Not now, Y/N, alright?” 

“JJ, seriously.” 

She stepped into his path, arms out now, forcing him to stop. 

“Can you just- can you talk to me for five seconds?”

“What?”

His blue eyes flicked up to hers, but there was impatience in them, already halfway gone even as he stood in front of her. Y/N clenched her jaw, gesturing back toward the bathroom. 

“Shit’s breaking faster than I can fix it. We need money and I can’t do this alone.”

“I’ll figure something out, okay?” 

JJ sighed, rubbing a hand down his face as he stepped around her, heading toward the door again. She let out a humorless scoff watching her brother avoid the conversation- once again.

 “What about that job interview at the gas station I told you about last week?”

She’d told him about it last monday, she could still remember begging the manager to give him a chance, given his reputation- well it wasn't the best. JJ’s shoulders tensed slightly, and for the first time, he hesitated. 

“Uh… yeah, about that…”

Y/N’s stomach dropped. She already knew the answer before he finished his sentence. She spoke slowly, warning in her tone.

 “JJ” 

“Look, me and the Pogues were fishing, and we kinda… lost track of time.”

He winced, rubbing the back of his neck. Y/N shut her eyes, exhaling sharply as she lifted her hands to cover her face. 

“Are you serious?”

“I mean, technically, I did show up. Just… a little late.”

JJ let out a half-hearted chuckle, like maybe that’d soften the blow. She dropped her hands, shaking her head as exhaustion settled deep in her bones. 

“Jesus, Jay. Do you even care?”

JJ frowned but didn’t answer right away. He knew he was being a little unreasonable- but in his defense he was just a teen. His silence however told her everything. She looked at him and momentarily took in his appearance, his messy blond hair, his summer kissed skin; she envied him a little, the way he was always out and about, not worried, never stressed. She muttered, turning on her heel.

“Forget it” 

“Y/N—”

But she was already walking away, back toward the bathroom, back toward the leaking faucet, back toward everything she had to deal with alone. JJ hesitated for a second, watching her go, then sighed and yanked open the door. And then it shut behind him, leaving Y/N standing there in the silence. She swallowed hard, blinking back the stinging frustration behind her eyes.

"Yeah," she muttered to herself, voice barely above a whisper.

 "Guess I'll figure it out myself."

After a while she had given up on the leaky faucet, cleaning up the house- to the best of her ability- before settling down in the kitchen.The stack of bills sat on the dining table, a messy pile of final notices and overdue warnings. Y/N stared at them, her fingers running over the edges of the envelopes, as if touching them could somehow make the numbers smaller, make the debt disappear. The utilities, the rent- hell, even the grocery bill? It was all piling up faster than she could keep up with. Sometimes she wished she could turn back time, move back to when she didn't even know about all of this, before she showed her dad she could look after herself - and JJ… maybe then she wouldn't have this constant weight on her shoulders.

With a sigh, she dropped her head down onto the table, resting her forehead against the cool surface. Think, think, think. There had to be a way to come up with money, something quick, something that didn’t involve relying on JJ, because clearly that wasn’t an option either now. Her mind raced through possibilities, but every idea led to a dead end. The front door swung open and then slammed shut. Y/N didn’t even lift her head as heavy, stumbling footsteps made their way inside. 

She knew that gait all too well. 

Her jaw clenched as her father mumbled something incoherent under his breath, his words slurred, laced with whatever shit he had put in his system tonight. She stayed still, hoping, praying, that he’d just pass out somewhere and leave her be. Without a word to her, he shuffled through the house, disappearing into her bedroom. Y/N pursed her lips, lifting her head slightly as she listened to him rustling around in there. She knew better than to go after him. Whatever he was looking for- money, booze, something to pawn- she wasn’t about to get in his way.

Instead, she pushed back from the table, standing up slowly, her hands pressing against the wood as she steadied herself. The house was too quiet now, except for the occasional sound of drawers opening and closing in her room. Her stomach twisted. She needed to get out of here, needed to fix this mess before it swallowed her whole.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She’d been driving with no real destination, letting the silence of the night and the hum of the engine settle her thoughts. She’s gripping the wheel tightly, her thoughts tangled in the mess of overdue payments, an empty fridge, and a father and brother who barely acknowledge her existence unless they want something.Then, as she’s driving through the dimly lit streets, she passes by it. The neon sign flickers, casting a dull pink glow onto the pavement, and without even thinking, she slams the brakes. Her car comes to a sudden stop in the middle of the empty street and can feel her seat belt digging into her chest momentarily, her heart pounding as she stares at the building.

It’s not like she’s never thought about it before. 

She’s heard things, seen the type of girls who walk in and out of there, all done up with money to spend. And right now, she has nothing- nothing but overdue bills and a house falling apart. Her hands grip the steering wheel, knuckles turning white. A part of her wants to just drive away, pretend she never even considered it. But another part of her- the part that’s desperate, the part that’s sick of drowning- knows this might be her only shot. She swallows hard, taking a deep breath before finally pulling her car to the curb. She sits there for a second, hands still on the wheel, staring at the entrance, she brings her hand up to rub it down her face, hand resting over her mouth as she thinks. 

Really thinks.

Then, before she can change her mind, she kills the engine and steps out.

The night air is cool against her skin, but it does nothing to settle the heat rising in her chest. Her heart is hammering, her stomach twisting as she closes the car door behind her. The pavement feels unsteady beneath her feet as she walks toward the entrance. The music from inside is faint but pulsing, the bass reverberating through the ground. She hesitates, staring at the worn-down exterior and the neon sign buzzing overhead. As she approached the door, something caught her eye- a flyer taped to the window, the bold letters glaring at her in the dimming light.

NOW HIRING

This is insane. 

She shouldn’t be here.

And yet, she doesn’t turn around, instead her fingers flex at her sides before she pushes the door open, stepping inside. The shift in atmosphere is immediate. The air is thick with perfume and alcohol, the dim lighting casting deep shadows across the room. The club isn’t packed- it’s late on a weekday- but there are still men scattered around, cash in hand, eyes glued to the stage. A girl moves fluidly under the colored lights, her body illuminated by pinks and blues as she wraps herself around the pole. Y/N swallows, forcing herself to keep walking, past the wandering eyes of men who glance at her but don’t linger. She doesn’t know exactly where she’s going, only that if she stops now, she’ll most likely lose her nerve.

She spots a bar toward the back and makes a beeline for it, hands slightly clammy. A woman stands behind the counter, pouring a drink for some guy in a suit. Y/N waits until she’s done before leaning in slightly. 

“Hey, um- do you know who I talk to if I’m looking for a job?”

The woman lifts a brow, gaze flicking over Y/N, taking her in. Then, without a word, she jerks her chin toward a door near the back as she picks up a glass on the counter and starts drying it. 

“Through there. Ask for Tommy.”

Y/N nods, her pulse jumping as she turns toward the door. This is it. She can still leave, still pretend she never came here. But instead, she takes a breath and pushes the door open. The door swings shut behind her with a dull thud, muffling the thumping bass from the main room. The air back here feels different- less suffocating, it’s dimly lit, the walls lined with old vintage posters of strippers and liquor crates, the faint scent of cigarettes lingers in the air.

Y/N’s eyes adjust quickly, landing on a man seated behind a cluttered desk, lazily counting a stack of cash. He looks to be in his late forties, broad-shouldered with thinning hair and a face that’s seen its fair share of rough nights. A half-smoked cigarette dangles between his fingers. He doesn’t look up immediately, just exhales a cloud of smoke before finally lifting his gaze to hers. His eyes sweep over her, slow and calculating. 

“You lost, sweetheart?”

“I saw you were hiring.”

Y/N shakes her head, her hands shoved into the pockets of her jacket.That piques his interest. He leans back in his chair, eyeing her with something between amusement and scrutiny. 

“That so?”

“Yeah. I—I need a job.”

She nods, trying to keep her voice steady. Tommy taps his fingers against the desk, sizing her up. 

“You ever danced before?”

Y/N hesitates for half a second, “No.”

He smirks like he expected that answer, responding with a slow nod as he places the money he was counting into an envelope labeled ‘Bambi’. 

“You got any experience bartending? Serving?”

“...I'm a waitress at the country club.”

His brow lifts, and for a moment, she thinks he’s going to laugh in her face. Instead, he sighs, rubbing a hand down his jaw, momentarily pausing as he closes up the envelope, puts it onto a pile and looks up to her. 

“So, what? You just walked in here hoping I’d throw you on stage?”

“I’m a fast learner.”

Y/N presses her lips together, shifting on her feet. Tommy watches her for a beat, then gestures toward the empty chair across from him. 

“Sit.”

She does, moving forward and lowering herself onto the chair in front of him, the leather squeaking a little as it makes contact with her bare thighs. He studies her in the dim light, tapping his cigarette against the ashtray. 

“What’s your name?”

“Y/N.”

“Well, Y/N,” he says, dragging the word out like he’s tasting it. “You don’t look like a girl who just woke up one day and decided this is what she wanted to do. So tell me- what are you really doing here?”

“I need the money.”

Y/N clenches her jaw. Tommy hums, nodding like that doesn’t surprise him as he taps the ash of his cigarette on the edge of an empty whiskey glass. 

“That part’s obvious.” 

He leans forward slightly as he continues, resting his elbows on the table. 

“But I need to know what I’m dealing with. You got people who’ll come looking for you? A jealous boyfriend? Strict parents? Any reason this might come back to bite me in the ass?”

Y/N hesitates, because the truth is- complicated. JJ wouldn’t approve, not in a million years, his sister working in a strip club? There was no way he would be happy about it, but the more she thought about it, he’s barely around- and besides she is the older sibling. And Luke? She doubts he’d even notice with the way he’s always high out of his mind. Yet deep down she knew, if he did find out it certainly wouldn’t end well.

“No,” she says finally. 

“No one’s coming after me.”

Tommy watches her carefully, like he’s weighing her answer. Then, with a slow nod, he exhales another stream of smoke and flicks his butt of his cigarette into the glass. 

“Alright, Y/N… I’ll give you a shot.”

Relief floods her chest, but it’s short-lived as he continues.

“First things first- you start off small. No stage, not yet. You’ll work the floor. Waitress, maybe some private rooms if you’re up for it. Tips are yours, but the house gets a cut. If you prove you can handle yourself, we’ll talk about dancing.”

Y/N nods, ignoring the way her stomach tightens at the mention of private rooms. She can handle this. She has to. Tommy gestures toward the door. 

“Come in tomorrow night. Nine o’clock. One of the girls will show you the ropes.”

“Okay, thank you.”

He hums out as Y/N stands up, gripping the back of the chair briefly before letting go. As she turns to leave her hand reaching out for the door handle, Tommy’s voice stops her.

“One last thing, sweetheart.”

She glances back.

“I hope you know what you’re getting into.”

His gaze is sharp, knowing. Y/N doesn’t reply. What could she possibly say to him? She just nods once and steps back through the door, back into the neon-lit haze of the club.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The dressing room hummed with chatter, the air thick with the scent of perfume, body shimmer, and a mix of fruity smoke drifting around. Mirrors lined the walls, reflecting girls in various states of getting ready- adjusting lingerie straps, applying a final coat of lip gloss, securing thigh-high stockings into garter belts. Y/N sat at one of the vanities, leaning in close as she fixed the last flick of her eyeliner. Her figure was wrapped in black lace, tiny straps and sheer panels leaving just enough to the imagination- but she still had a few finishing touches to go. Naomi- better known as Bambi- was beside her, placing her straightener down and popping her gum loudly as she smirked at Y/N through the mirror. 

“You’re getting faster at this,” She mused, eyes flicking down to Y/N’s hands as she fastened a delicate silver choker with a small heart pendant around her neck. 

“First week, you were takin’ forever in here. Now look at you. A real pro, Bunny.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but smiled, smoothing out a stray strand of hair before reaching for her gloss. She teased, voice light but with that tired edge that never quite went away these days.

“Yeah, yeah. You gonna pat me on the head next?” 

“Mmm, maybe after your first private dance of the night. If you’re good girl.”

Bambi grinned and Y/N huffed a laugh, pressing her lips together to even out the gloss. A month and some into this life, and she wasn’t sure if she was settling in or just getting better at pretending she had. It was easier now- knowing the regulars, knowing what songs meant what, knowing how to smile just enough but not too much. The money helped. 

God, did the money help.

She glanced down at her phone, screen lighting up with a notification. 

JJ :  Staying at John B’s 

JJ  :  See you tmr

JJ  :  Good luck at work!!!

Y/N stares at the screen for a moment, her stomach twisting like it always does when she thinks about how much she’s keeping from him. He thinks she picked up an extra night cleaning shift at the country club since that’s what she told him. He has no idea that while he’s crashing at the chateau, she’s slipping into heels and stepping onto a stage under flashing neon lights. She locks her phone, pushing the thought away. 

Guilt won’t pay the bills.

“Busy night, you think?”

She spoke as she ignored the message, flipping the phone over and looking back at the girl next to her. Bambi gave a lazy stretch, rolling out her shoulders. 

“Always is on a Friday. High rollers’ll be in. You might get lucky.”

“Yeah, real lucky.”

Y/N scoffed, grabbing her perfume and spritzing it lightly over her collarbones. Bambi side-eyed her, then leaned in with a smirk. 

“Come on, Bunny. You might actually have fun tonight. If not, at least make it worth your while.”

Y/N just hummed, adjusting the strap on her heel as the familiar pulse of bass-heavy music leaked in from the club floor. The music thrums through the floor as Y/N steps out of the dressing room, the familiar pulse of bass settling into her bones. The club is alive tonight- packed booths, the bar swarmed with men flashing cash, neon strobes flickering over clinking glasses and loose laughter. Bambi walks beside her, adjusting the strap of her bra as she surveys the crowd. 

“It’s a good night,” she muses, eyes gleaming as a man waves down a waitress with a fat roll of bills in his hand. 

“Everyone’s in a generous mood hmm.”

 “Looks like it.”

Y/N hums, already spotting a few regulars scattered through the crowd. The air is thick with perfume and cologne, the scent of whiskey and something heavier and smokier lingering beneath. Girls weave through the crowd, balancing trays of drinks, draping themselves over men who let them. The DJ’s set switches, the bass rattling the room, A voice calls from near the DJ booth, and Bambi nudges Y/N with her hip, a smirk tugging at her lips as she sends her a little kiss.

“Knock ’em dead, baby.”

Y/N exhales, rolling her shoulders back as she steps into the chaos of the club. The energy is thick tonight- bodies packed around the stage, eager hands already tossing bills, the bass thrumming deep in her ribs. She grips the pole, the cool metal grounding her for a brief moment before she moves.The nerves are familiar but distant now, part of the routine; she’s used to it- the way the outside world fades the second she steps onto the platform.

Her body flows with the music, slow and teasing at first, rolling her hips as she wraps a leg around the pole and lifts herself with ease. She spins, the world blurring for a second, heels gliding effortlessly over the platform. A whistle cuts through the noise. A few more bills flutter at her feet.

She twists, sliding down with a deliberate drag before pushing herself back up, hooking her knee and arching her back; thighs squeezing the pole as she extends her body in a perfect line. The music pulses, dictating her movements- fluid and sultry. For a moment, there’s nothing but the heat of the lights and the electric charge of the crowd.

But then as she lifts her gaze mid-spin, her eyes catch on something in the far corner.

Two men in a booth, half-hidden in the dim lighting. They sit relaxed, a quiet presence amidst the chaos, yet people keep coming up to them- leaning in, hands subtly exchanging cash, small bags slipping from one palm to another. She doesn’t need to look too closely to know what’s going down. She presses her palm to the pole, as her feet hit the platform again, hips swaying slowly, her focus slipping back to the crowd in front of her, but something gnaws at her, pulling her attention back. Then, the lights shift, a quick flash of neon, just bright enough to cut through the shadows, and she sees him.

Rafe Cameron.

And he’s looking right at her.

Leaning back in the booth, one arm draped lazily over the seat, a glass of whiskey in his other hand. Her breath catches in her throat, her grip faltering just slightly as she steadies herself. But it’s too late. Her moment is stiffer now, the tension stretched between them, across the crowded room, and he’s locked in the way he watches her. Unblinking. She can’t tell what he’s thinking but she knows one thing for certain- 

He knows exactly who she is.

Y/N forces herself to keep moving, to stay in rhythm with the music despite the ice-cold feeling creeping up her spine. But it’s impossible to ignore the weight of Rafe’s stare. It lingers burning through the dim haze of the club. She glides down the pole, making sure to keep her expression smooth- indifferent. Her heart is hammering against her ribs, but no one in the audience would know it. They see only the show, the slow hypnotising sway of her hips as she lands back on the stage, the way her fingers tease at the hem of her lace bra before she moves toward the edge of the stage dropping to her knees. The song is winding down. One last arch of her back, one last deliberate sweep of her hands up her thighs before letting the final beat pulse through her body.

Applause, whistles, the sound of crisp bills hitting the stage.

She scoops up what she can as she stands, but her mind is barely there. Not when she can still feel the weight of him watching. As she steps offstage, she risks a glance toward the booth again.This time Barry is grinning, chatting with some guy in a backwards cap who’s slipping a wad of cash into his pocket. And Rafe- he’s still looking at her, Y/N’s breath catches as their eyes meet again and this time, he smirks. It’s small, almost lazy, but there’s something in it that makes her stomach flip.

Shit.

She rips her gaze away, hurrying toward the bar, barely registering the sound of heels clicking against the floor or the music thumping through the speakers. She drops her earnings into her basket at the end of the bar- before grabbing a glass of water. Her hands are steady as she lifts it, but her heart is pounding wildly. The bartender gives her a once-over as she wipes down the counter. 

“Damn, Bunny- y'look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“You have no idea.”

Y/N exhales, pressing the cold glass to her lips. Her eyes drift back to Rafe before she can stop herself. He’s talking to someone else now, some guy in a backward cap, shaking his hand as something small and discreet trades between them-

Fucking hell.

She jumps at the sudden touch on her arm, nearly spilling her drink. Whipping around, she exhales sharply when she sees who it is.

“Jesus, Tommy.”

“What’s up with you?”

“Nothing- It’s nothing.”

She responds as she shakes her head slightly, Tommy doesn’t look convinced, but he lets it slide.

“Someone put in a request for you.”

“Who?”

Y/N wipes her palm against her thigh, trying to shake the uneasy feeling creeping up her spine. Tommy leans in slightly, his voice calling out over the music as his head nods in the direction she was just looking. 

“Rafe Cameron.”

Y/N freezes and Tommy notices her stiff shoulders instantly. 

“Something I should know about?”

“Um… I think he and his friend are selling coke-”

“—I know” 

Tommy says easily as he picks up one of the clean empty glasses on the bar, putting it away. Y/N frowns at his words. Since the first day she’d started working here, he had stated to her he had ‘zero-tolerance’ for any of the girls doing coke… so how come now, Rafe Cameron was allowed to walk in here and make this his personal dealing spot. 

“But I thought you—”

“I made a deal with them,” he shrugs, “keeps people coming in, keeps them buying drinks. Business is business Y/N.”

“Right.”

Y/N purses her lips as he speaks and Tommy studies her for a moment, then gestures towards where Rafe was sitting, once again passing over something she couldn't quite make out to a man in a white shirt. 

“I can send someone else, but you’ll lose out on the cash for the night.” 

His voice has that slight edge to it, the one that tells her he won’t be making a habit of exceptions. She hesitates. She could probably say no. She should say no. But then she thinks about the pile of bills waiting for her at home, the ones she still doesn’t know how she’s going to all pay.

“I—” She clears her throat. 

“It’s fine.”

“Good. He’s waiting.”

Y/N exhales, setting her glass down with a quiet clink and then she turns, smoothing out her hair, checking her reflection in the mirror hanging on the wall. Rafe still leaned back in one of the lounge chairs, legs spread, arm slung over the back of the seat. Barry is beside him, but he isn’t paying attention to whatever he’s saying. His eyes are already on her.

Watching. 

Waiting.

She swallows hard, ignoring the way her pulse kicks up as she straightens her shoulders and starts moving toward him. Her heels click against the floor, her movements slow and she can feel the weight of his gaze. When she finally stops in front of him, Rafe tips his head slightly, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Hey there, Bunny.”

Y/N clenches her jaw at the sound of his voice- low and smooth, edged with amusement. She doesn’t let it show, though. Instead, she gives him the same sultry smile she’s perfected for every other man who’s sat in front of her.

“Cameron” 

She says, tilting her head slightly, letting her fingers trail lightly over her bare thigh. Rafe grins like this is all some kind of joke. Like she isn’t standing in front of him in six-inch heels and a barely-there outfit, about to dance for him like she doesn’t know exactly who he is.

"Didn’t think I’d ever see you here"

His voice is smug like he’s savouring every second of this. Y/N bites back a retort. She wants to tell him to fuck off. Wants to ask him what the fuck he’s doing here, why he put in a request for her.

But she doesn’t. 

Because she can’t.

Her fingers twitch by her side as she takes a step closer instead, smoothly moving into his space. Rafe doesn’t move back. If anything, his smirk deepens as he spreads his legs a little wider and Barry chuckles beside him, knocking back the rest of his drink before running his hand over his head. He mutters, already moving to stand.

“ 'ight I’ll leave you to it,” 

But before he can leave, Rafe shakes his head, a smirk pulling at his lips,

"No, no—stay man."

Y/N’s stomach twists. She doesn’t want an audience, especially not Barry, she doesn't even want to be doing this in the first place. The club is still packed, neon lights flickering across the space. There are men scattered around, girls in their laps, some whispering things in their ears that’ll have them reaching for their wallets without hesitation. Y/N has done this a hundred times now. She knows the drill.

But this- this is different.

She inhales slowly as she notices Barry sitting back in his seat, eyes racking over her body and she has to restrain herself from rolling her eyes. She hesitant, her inner conflict gnawing at her mind but eventually she lets out a small breath a moves forward, swinging a leg over Rafe’s lap, lowering herself onto his thighs, moving her hips in a way that’s meant to tease. She lets her hands trail up his chest in a way that’s meant to be practiced and seductive. But then- his hand comes to rest on her hip.

Her whole body tenses.

Rafe notices. Of course he does. His thumb presses against the curve of her hip, just enough to make her teeth clench. Y/N forces a tight-lipped smile, shifting on his lap just enough to make it look like part of the dance- but really, it’s an attempt to put space between them. Her voice stays low, sharp beneath the sultry act.

"There’s a no-touching policy."

Rafe’s smirk doesn’t falter. If anything, it deepens. His fingers stay right where they are, his grip on her hip solid, unmoving. He tilts his head slightly, blue eyes gleaming with something threatening.

"None of the policies here apply to me, Maybank."

He speaks out as his finger slips under the strap of her black thong, tugging on it and letting it snap back into position, the feeling causing a sharp sting on her skin. The way he says her last name- it’s teasing, taunting. Like he enjoys the way it sounds in his mouth and Y/N can’t help but clench her jaw at the thought, heat creeping up her neck.bShe doesn’t let her movements falter though, even as his words sink into her skin like a slow-burning ember. Her ass grinds down onto his lap intone with the song blaring out through teh clubs speakers, her fingers trailing over his shoulders, a practiced motion, a distraction- for herself more than for him.

“That so?”

She murmurs, voice light, teasing, playing into the role she’s supposed to be in. Rafe lets out a quiet hum, his thumb stroking over the thin fabric of her outfit.

“Mhm. I don’t think Tommy would wanna lose his best customers, do you?”

She bites down on the inside of her cheek at his words but th rhythmic roll of her hips never stops. She knows he' s pushing her.

It’s in his nature.

Barry lets out a low whistle from his seat which is followed by a chuckle. Her eye's drift over to him sitting his legs spread wide as he takes lazy sips from his drink.

“Damn didn’t peg you for this line of work Maybank. Not that I’m complainin’.”

Her spine stiffens, at she meets his eye's- yet she refuses to give them the satisfaction of leaving before the song is finished. Her focus shifts to Rafe, on the smug expression he wears as he watches her, like he’s got all the time in the world.

Like he’s enjoying this far too much.

Y/N exhales sharply through her nose. He’s trying to get under her skin. And it’s working. Rafe grins, his grip on her hips unwavering he taunts, his other hand sliding down to her thigh, drifting awfully close to her inner thigh as he tilts his head slightly.

“What’s the matter huh? You dance for all these guys, but you’re nervous around me?”

The song drags on, seconds feeling like minutes. Her body moves on instinct, performing for him, back arching as she struggles not to unravel under his gaze. And then, just as she starts to think she can get through this without losing it- he leans in. His breath fans against her ear as he speaks, voice just low enough for only her to hear.

“Wonder what your brother would think if he saw you like this.”

His voice is casual, but there’s something sharp behind it, something that makes her stomach twist. Her jaw tightens.

“That’s none of your business.”

“Just seems like something he’d wanna know,”

Rafe doesn’t even acknowledge her as she speaks, his full attention locked onto the way her hips are still grinding against him. He muses, tilting his head.

“Bet he thinks you’re a little cleaner or somethin' huh?”

Her pulse thrums in her ears, but she doesn’t let it show. Rafe’s smirk deepens, catching the movement. His fingers drum now against her knee.

“Relax, Y/N. I’m just making conversation.”

“Yeah? Funny, doesn’t feel like that.”

She scoffs under her breath. He hums, tilting his head as he takes her in, eyes darting down from her face. Her stomach knots, but she refuses to cower under his gaze. Instead, she leans in just enough that only he can hear her. “You know,” she murmurs, voice dripping with saccharine sweetness,

“most guys just pay and keep their mouths shut.”

Rafe tutted, a slow, mocking sound, then, before she can react, Rafe casually plucks a few crisp fifty-dollar bills from the stack in front of him. His fingers ghost along the curve of her waist before he shoves them right between her pushed up tits, tucking the money into her bra. Heat rushes to her face- not from embarrassment, but from the pure, seething hatred bubbling up inside her. Her jaw tightens, and she shoots him a glare so sharp it could cut glass. Barry, watching the whole thing unfold, bursts into laughter, slapping his knee like it’s the funniest thing he’s seen all night.

“Country Club” he wheezes, “she gon' kill you man”

“Nah,” he drawls, eyes flicking up to hers.

“She likes it.”

Rafe just smirks, leaning back lazily in his seat and she scoffs, the sound sharp and dripping with disgust, before snatching the money from between her tits and throwing it straight at him. The crisp bills flutter uselessly against his chest before falling into his lap, but she doesn’t care.

She doesn’t want his money- doesn’t want anything from him.

She shifts to push off his lap, to put distance between them, but Rafe moves faster. His hand snaps around her wrist in an iron grip, yanking her back down before she can escape. A sharp gasp slips from her lips as she stumbles into him, her free hand landing against his chest to steady herself.

He’s close now.

Too close.

Rafe’s smirk fades slightly, replaced by something more irritated as he stares up at her. His fingers tighten around her wrist, his grip just bordering on painful, a silent warning.

“I’d be real careful, Bunny”

Rafe murmurs, his voice low and laced with something that makes her stomach uneasy. Her breath catches, but she refuses to look away, her glare burning into him. He tilts his head slightly, his smirk creeping back as he studies her reaction.

“You wouldn’t want your brother to hear about this little conversation, would you?”

The words hang heavy between them, and she swallows hard, her pulse hammering. Y/N sits there, her body tense, her expression carved from pure, unfiltered hatred. Every fiber of her being screams at her to move, to slap that smug look off his face, but she doesn’t. Because if Rafe tells JJ… she doesn’t know what she’d do.

He watches her, sharp and calculating, before plucking the discarded money from his lap. He folds the crisp bills between his fingers in half, before bringing them up to her face. His eyes stay locked on hers, and his lips curl into that insufferable smirk.

“Open up”

He murmurs, voice taunting but firm. Her jaw clenches and she doesn’t move. Amusement flickers in his gaze, but there’s something else there too- something that tells her that she'd not got much choice now. He lifts a brow, daring her to defy him and she hates herself for it, but after a long, thick moment of silence, she slowly parts her lips. Rafe hums in satisfaction, slipping the folded-up bills between her teeth.

“Atta girl”

He muses as she bites down, his fingers lingering just a second longer than necessary before he pulls away. He leans back lazily in his seat, studying her with open amusement, eyes flicking between the money in her mouth and the fire still burning in her gaze. She can tell he’s so fucking satisfied. The song finally comes to an end, the heavy bass fading into the low murmur of conversation and clinking glasses. The second the last note plays and a new one begins, she jerks her wrist free from his grasp, ripping her hand away like his touch burns her.

Her mind is racing- anger, humiliation, and something else she doesn’t want to name all tangling together in a storm inside her chest. She stands abruptly, plucking the money from between her lips with two fingers like it’s tainted. Without even sparing him a glance, she turns on her heel, ready to put as much distance between herself and Rafe Cameron as possible.

But then- she feels it.

The sharp smack lands right on her ass, firm and unapologetic. A small gasp passes her lips and the audacity of it sends white-hot anger surging through her veins, and she whips around so fast her hair nearly follows the motion. Barry is already laughing, a deep, wheezing sound, blowing out a thick puff of smoke as he watches the scene unfold like it’s the best entertainment of the night.

And Rafe?

Rafe just grins up at her, infuriatingly relaxed, his expression unreadable save for the smug amusement dancing in his eyes. Then, as if he hadn't already done enough, he puckers his lips, blowing her a lazy, taunting little kiss to her. She stares at him, disgust and fury twisting in her chest, her fists clenching at her sides- heart thumping heavily in her chest as she becomes certain of one thing.

She’s never hated anyone more in her life.

taglist: @xoxosblogsblog @moonywhisp3rs @i-love-gvf @my-name-is-baby @ltristessedureratoujours @stoned-writer @mariamadison6-blog @rafecameronswhoore @lovelytoomusic @rafesgurl @mysticbby2009 @vanessa-rafesgirl @silkenthusiasts @partygirl14 @amterasuu @xoxo-ada @icaqttt @willowpains @ivysprophecy @mauvesmax @larema121 @ggraycelynn

Special shoutout to @daylighted

Dean sits on his bed in the dorm playing with the phone in his hand, flipping open and closed mindlessly. He had just gotten off the phone with Sam to find out he had gotten in another argument with John. He was worried and even wanted to drive back but Sam urged him to stay, ‘enjoy college’ he said. His eyebrows furrowed staring at the wall blankly, his abandoned assignment sat on his desk waiting for Dean to give it some attention.

But his mind is occupied with his family, and what is happening back home. But also the guilt of being away from Sam not there to protect him if the argument got gnarly but also feeling like he was moving away from the lifestyle. The hunter’s life. He still has his now small hunter collection with him but that’s stuffed underneath his mattress. His room is messy with both dirty and clean flannels scattered all over the room, empty beer bottles sat on the desk. His wall covered with some timetables of the school year, mostly when the good parties are.

But also the photos of him and Sam on his bulletin board, various pinned over, capturing the love and happiness he has for his little brother. And that one photo in the corner him and John, he was slightly younger in the photo. He is smiling widely at the camera looking happily into the lens, and there is John in the corner. Like he’s trying to avoid the picture his face turned away from the camera looking disinterested of both the camera and his son. Dean used to have a photo of him and John that was taken before his Mum died, and you can see the shift in John, looking happy, fulfilled.

But he had to take it down because it reminded him of the pain his Mum’s death caused, and how drastically it changed his father and his relationship with him. But now a larger photo was in the middle of the board. Taken in the courtyard of Stanford the warm coloured leaves surrounding him, you sat on his lap holding the camera, while Dean had you in a soft headlock kissing your cheek smiling. The photo reminding him of the love he had found at Stanford but also what he could choose over hunting. Since he knows he can’t bring you into the lifestyle.

But it also makes him feel guilty, how he was able to be happy away from his family, emotions he’s not familiar too. But also betraying his father, of not being the heartless guard dog he was ultimately bred to be over his childhood. The soft knock on his door snaps him out of his conflicting thoughts. He sighs softly of throwing his phone on his bed before opening door.

To see you standing there with a smile on your face holding up some greasy fast food you know he loves. He smiles widely and pulls you into the room hugging you and closing the door, “hi baby” he kisses you softly while holding the back of your head. Your giggles fill the room as you pull away kissing his cheek, before walking to the desk setting the food down.

“Dean, you said you had done this” you hold the blank assignment up eyebrows raised, Dean laughs softly “it’s stupid anyway, I’ll do it later babe don’t worry” he answers while taking it out your hand and setting it down. He then takes your hand pulling you down on his lap as he lays down you yelp as you go down on his lap. He holds you close to his chest as you reach for the greasy fast food back. Hours pass back of you guys eating the food and drinking the beer talking, as a chick flick plays in the back. The one Dean fought hard not to have it play but complied eventually since he can’t argue with you.

You guys had decided to go down to walk around the courtyard as the sun began to set. His hand wrapped in yours tightly, with you guys walking around in your pyjamas with his leather coat wrapped around you securely. You step on the crunchy leaves revaling excitedly to Dean as you explain it to him. He watched you softly the warm orange lasting a warm spotlight on your face, highlighting each of your features. You ramble mindlessly as he stares at you. He begins to think how he now believes there is something more out of hunting, how he is allowed to feel. And how he would gladly choose you over his father and hunting. Before then softly wrapping his arm around you kissing your forehead. “Let’s head back”

The fluff goes crazy

@deerlysacred @deansbite @beauswhore @beausling @sunsbaby @cowboysandcigarettes @upsidedean @honeyryewhiskey @dulcescorderitas @s4wdvator @prttyinpink7 @starzify @vmiina @soldiersgirl @soangelbaby @whisperingdaze @j2archives @deansbite

it started with a moronic tattoo. a dumb, drunk decision at eighteen, giggling with your college roommates over a blurry photo of soldier boy, choosing the shield because his face felt like too much commitment. a tramp stamp—because that was the joke, right? but the ink settled under your skin, the joke fading with the years, leaving only the truth behind. you didn’t just admire him. you craved him. you wanted to be part of him, wrapped up in the legend, in the impossible strength and swagger of him. it wasn’t just lust—it was devotion, something deeper, something undeniable, almost like you worshipped the ground he walked on.

didn’t matter that he was long gone, a relic of another time, a myth wrapped in propaganda. he was the ideal. brute strength, rough hands, a smirk that cut through the bullshit. they didn’t make men like him anymore, hadn’t for decades, and the world was worse off for it.

so when butcher dragged you into his orbit, you couldn’t quite process it. soldier boy, real, breathing, alive in a way that shouldn’t have been possible. older, sure, but still built like a fucking tank, the weight of him pressing into every room he entered. you were supposed to keep an eye on him, make sure he didn’t burn down the safe house or wander off on some murder spree. glorified babysitting, really. but you couldn’t stop staring.

he noticed. of course he did. soldier boy wasn’t the kind of man to miss shit like that. his gaze raked over you every time you walked in, sharp eyes catching the way your breath hitched, the way your hands trembled when you handed him a beer. you tried to play it cool, but how were you supposed to stay casual when your childhood obsession was sprawled across a ratty motel couch, sweat-slick from sparring, dog tags glinting against his bare chest?

“what’s your deal, sweetheart?” he asked one night, voice rough from whiskey and disuse. “you look at me like you’ve seen a fucking ghost.”

“maybe i have,” the words slipped out before you could think better of them.

he leaned forward, smirking like he already knew everything you weren’t saying. “nah—it’s something else, ain’t it?”

you swallowed hard, pulse hammering in your throat. you could lie. you should lie. but then hughie, the clumsy bastard, fumbled something behind you, and you bent down without thinking, too careless.

soldier boy saw it immediately.

"fuck," he muttered, low and rough.

you froze, heat crawling up your neck as realization sank in. you straightened too fast, nearly stumbling, and when you turned, soldier boy was still staring. not at your face, not at anything above your waist.

his tongue dragged over his bottom lip, slow, contemplative, eyes dark as he took in the ink, the placement, the fucking meaning of it. something in his expression shifted—like a predator sighting something that belonged to him.

"holy fuck," he muttered, voice thick, heavy.

his hand twitched, like he was holding himself back, but then he didn’t. rough fingers brushed your lower back, thumb skating dangerously close to where the ink disappeared beneath your waistband. he traced it, slow and deliberate, watching the way you shivered at his touch.

"this real?" his voice was a rasp, pure gravel and whiskey. "or is this some slutty way of asking me to fuck you"

he laughed, a deep, satisfied rumble, and fuck, you felt that sound everywhere. “that’s some serious dedication.”

“i was young and stupid.”

he hummed, not buying it for a second. “nah. you don’t get something like this unless you mean it.”

he was right, and you hated how much you loved that he knew it. he stayed close, hand warm against your lower back, thumb pressing just above the ink like he was marking you all over again. your whole body locked up, heat pooling low in your core.

“fuck,” he muttered, voice gone rough. “you gonna give me a real welcome back then, or just stand there lookin’ pretty?”

you didn’t hesitate. you turned, grabbed the front of his jacket, and pulled him in. his mouth met yours in a clash of teeth and whiskey, a kiss that wasn’t soft or sweet—was never going to be, not with him. he tasted like violence, like a man who took what he wanted, and God, you wanted to be taken.

his hands were everywhere, mapping out your body with the surety of someone who’d done this a thousand times before. he shoved you onto the bed, covering you with his weight, and when he ground against you, the sound you let out was fucking obscene.

“that’s my girl,” he muttered, teeth grazing your throat, his smirk carved into your skin. “knew you’d be a goddamn dream.”

and when he finally got inside you, stretching you open like he was meant to be there, you thought maybe that dumb, drunk eighteen-year-old version of yourself had been right all along.

tags: @soldiersgirl @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @legalmente-loca @bluemerakis @whisperingdaze @cherrygirlfriend @figthoughts @sunsbaby @ambiguous-avery @bocadelinfierno @sunnyteume @bejeweledinterludes @k-slla @lunaleah @pieandflannel

title: tramp stamp

Thinking about Hayden 24/7

(the fact that im reading this in class...)

Happy News! Part II

Hayden Christensen, beloved Star Wars actor who portrayed Anakin Skywalker, gets to see his new baby— wait, are those... twins? Oh how ironic! | Fluff, corny Star Wars puns.

“So this is baby A, in his little sac how cute. And next to him is baby B,” points out the ob-gyn with a little grin, the irony of the situation is not lost on her. She's been your doctor since you moved to Canada with Hayden, and considering that he's standing next to you right now, eyes wide with a face of almost horror, she can't help herself, patting your hand once. “Congratulations family, seems like the force will be strong with these two.”

Hayden seems to be almost as white as the wall behind him, fidgeting with your left hand which he had in his. He offers a nervous laugh at the force joke, but it's clear the poor man is feeling almost faint. It was one of those chuckles he gave during awkward interviews. His face said it all, I'm too old for this!

You blink a few times, staring at the ultrasound in disbelief. You know your doctor has been doing this for many years and more to come, but you can't help but question her abilities at this point. It just doesn't sound real.

“Are you sure, doc? Nah, I don't think I can— I mean, two babies? That's... Ffff—”

She lets a small compassionate chuckle, you're not the first nor the last patient that finds herself in denial when hearing the news. Carrying twins? And Hayden Christensen's on top of that? This is too perfect, too funny.

The doctor proceeded to explain everything that you were seeing on the ultrasound, and she's confident that everything points out to a healthy pregnancy. Of course, you'd have to come back for a check-up in a couple of weeks, but the odds were in your favor.

“I will give you a moment,” she says, wiping off the gel from your barely noticeable belly before exiting. She left a good photo of the ultrasound up, for both of you to process it as you fix up your clothes and sit on the bed.

You stare at Hayden, just as anxious, if not more. You're the one who's carrying those babies, a huge responsibility on your shoulders now.

“Please let me know if I have to get up and give you the bed, I don't think I can drag your ass up if you faint.” You joke.

Hayden seems to come back to himself a bit, glaring for a moment. His shoulders seem to relax though.

“... Baby A and baby B. I'm not sure if I should laugh at this or not.” He brings a hand to his sweaty forehead, this time chuckling nervously, but despite his initial shock these news are exciting. His laughter immediately brings out yours. “I'm too old for news like these, Jesus Christ. We need to buy double the things, I have to baby proof the house twice! We gotta pick out two names, as if choosing one wasn't tough enough.” He continues to ramble, mostly speaking about how he had to secure the house in case his kids were total geniuses who would get themselves into trouble.

“Twins. You gave me twins, Hay...” You say, pulling down your shirt, your head spinning. Hayden helps put on your jacket, and he even got you down from the bed, gripping you firmly. He dusts your clothes off for no reason, and even tries to fix up your bun.

“Water? Here's mine, drink.” He orders, taking the cap off and bringing the bottle to your mouth. You stare at him, taking a sip with amusement. He seems awfully focused now. “Slowly my love.”

Yeah, something tells you this man is about to become the most protective being on earth. It makes you giggle, he's always been protective of you since you're much younger than him, it sparked every single primal cell in his body to be your fearless anxious protector. But this? You can already tell this has made that instinct stronger.

“You really are Anakin Skywalker, just... don't go on any violent rampages, please. You'd hurt your back.”

Hayden pinches your cheek teasingly. “You damn brat, you're lucky I'm so in love with you.” He huffs, now wrapping you between his arms. He rests his cheek on the top of your head, just holding you for a whole minute without speaking. Your heart flutters like it always did, this man's presence is enough to make you feel at peace, it was a nearly indescribable feeling, but the closest you could get to put it into words was home. Hayden felt like home. “WE are not naming them Luke and Leia.”

“I didn't say—”

“I know your brain, you brat.” He playfully scolded, making you chuckle at being caught. You were absolutely going to suggest it, you'll even add them at the top of the list. “We don't even know what they are yet.” Hayden adds, to which you shrugged.

“Did you ever think this could be possible? You having twins?” you ask him shyly as his hand caresses the small of your back.

“Hm, to be fair I always thought I would only have Briar. But then I met you, you rocked my world, made me fall in love, then we got married...” He recounts with a humorous tone. “Yeah the thought crossed my mind a couple of times, I found the possibility rather funny.”

“But you're not laughing now,” you tut with mock pity, to which Hayden rolls his eyes playfully. “Heh, wait until Ewan finds out, he's going to get a kick out of this!” you add, making him groan, mumbling something about you being a brat again. Out of all the loving nicknames he has for you, that one is his favorite. You remember one interview where he accidentally referred to you as such. He didn't mean to since he avoids talking about his personal life, the man protects you and the marriage strictly, but that day he accidentally blurted it out when the interviewer mentioned your tendency of sharing TikTok edits of him. That brat, it's all he grumbled while blushing, innocent enough, right? Well fans went crazy over it, the poor man was scandalized with the things you showed him, from TikTok edits with inappropriate songs, to fanfics on Tumblr. Needless to say he didn't go out for a few weeks, something you still found hilarious. He always answered that he didn't have the need to go out during those weeks, but you know better.

You make a vague effort to grab your purse from the chair, but Hayden beats you to it, making a disapproving sound.

“I'll do it, you just walk and look pretty.”

“Haydennn—”

“Come on, sit down until the doc comes back.” He orders again, gently guiding you to the chair, making you huff. “We can stop for a smoothie on our way back home, I'll make you a nice bubble bath, give you a good ol' massage afterwards.”

Your brows are almost immediately raised, hearing him talk. It was amusing to say the least, and you wondered how he would get when you were rounder with his kids. You shake your head, a loving smile adorning your pretty face. You're suspecting he's going to stick to your side like a shadow, and frankly, it doesn't bother you one bit. He wasn't lying when he suggested he'd become unbearable, and now that you know you're having two kids? Ohhh boy.

There's a knock on the door, the doctor making her presence known before getting back in the room. After a couple of minutes you're being dismissed, and just as Hayden promised, you're on your way to get a smoothie. You slurp happily as he drives with all the precautions in the world, but it's hard to get exasperated when he looks so damn happy.

about me!

abby. 8teen. she/her. latina/québécoise. media student.

NAVIGATION: masterlist ⋆ wattpad

BACKUP BLOG: @hollywoodmaneaters

requests!

i am always open for requests but just know that I have a tight school schedule. therefore, I might not always answer them fast enough. you can request whoever you like!!

I usually write reader as a female but you can always request for reader to be male or nonbinary!

side note!

english is not my first language. therefore I ask of you to be kind and if you see any mistakes let me know!