take⠀ his ⠀ kiss ⠀ right ⠀ outta ⠀ my ⠀ brain ⠀ ⠀— ⠀ ⠀ lh43
summary ⠀: ⠀when y/n l/n was kissed by Luke Hughes at umich before he left for New Jersey without a word — she didn’t expect his older brother to be the one to reunite them, 2 years later.
warnings ⠀: ⠀Luke Hughes is bad at feelings, slight angst, sad reader, reader is alluded to have tattoos, Luke is kinda (very) stupid
type ⠀+ ⠀notes ⠀: ⠀smau & written ++ reader is at umich for public health sciences & neurosciences, also i’m british i have no clue how USA summer holidays work , i’m also not too proud of this one
faceclaims ⠀: ⠀sophia birlem + random pinterest girls
pairing ⠀: ⠀Luke Hughes x reader
ynuser
dear god ּ tate mcrae
liked by yourbsf, lhughes_06 and 20 others
last practical of the semester, go blue!! 💛💙
yourbsf ּ ❤️ by creator
gorgeous girl!
userone ּ ❤️ by creator
oh you’re in my neuroscience class!
Seeing Luke in her likes even after he had gone on to New Jersey was like a stab to the heart. Y/N wasn’t so sure if it was the fact that he had kissed her the night before he left and never spoke to her again — or the fact that just the week before he had been cozying up with some sorority girl from across campus and avoiding her like the plague in turn.
So when she got the unfamiliar notification of ‘quinnhughes has followed you’ flashing on her phone screen during a lecture, she didn’t know how to feel.
A deep sigh escaped her as she stood from the seats of the lecture hall, more than ready to go home for the summer and see her parents. But it seemed the universe, and Quinn, had other plans for her.
texts between y/n and quinnhughes — 19.06.25
ynuser posted to their story!
caption 1: i guess i’m omw to a lakehouse? ✈️🛥️🤍
caption 2: here we go i guess? 😅🤍
caption 3: landed safe 📸 @\_quinnhughes
Stepping out of the car was odd, a wave of nausea crashing through y/n as she circled Quinn’s car, grabbing her bags from the trunk as he made sure Luke wasn’t around just yet.
It felt weird, just 18 hours ago she had been finishing her last class of the semester and now she was at a lake house with her former flings brother scoping out the grounds to make sure he didn’t see her walk in.
“He’s not here, they’re all out at the boat” Quinn nodded, holding open the door as y/n’s shoes ground against the gravel of the driveway, her suitcase toppling side to side behind her.
A comfortable silence sat between the two as he showed her to the last remaining guest room, pulling her suitcase in; Quinn looked at her, a small smile on his face.
“Thankyou.. for doing this-” Quinn spoke, before trailing off, pulling out his phone when it buzzed in his pocket — chuckling softly at whatever was on his screen.
Y/n unpacked silently, opening drawers and closets as she placed her clothing and belongings in them; jumping slightly at Quinn’s voice once again breaking the silence.
“They’re all gonna take the boat out and wakeboard, if you’d like to join? i’ll introduce you as my friend” Quinn said, a smile in his tone as he looked at the younger girl.
“you know what- sure, i’ll be out in a moment” She smiled, small but meaningful — watching Quinn shut the door behind him.
Pulling out a bikini, one that covered just enough but not too much and a tshirt; she let out a deep sigh, getting changed in silence — wondering to herself what the fuck she was doing.
summary: you're more stubborn than the apocalypse. eric is the personification of a sad, wet dog. your world's collide when the world as you know it ends. (6.3k)
pairing: eric (a quiet place day one) / f!reader
contents: strangers to friends to lovers, a couple of losers in love, apocalyptic setting, angst, hurt/comfort cw for mentions of grief and anxiety, brief mentions of injuries, and smut 18+
You wake up that morning in a bed that is not yours, in a room that does not belong to you, in an abandoned cabin you turned into a safe house three weeks ago.
Everything around you is foreign. Including the world outside these rotted walls, which turned entirely on its head in a blink. A blink that somehow turned into three months gone.
The only thing familiar to you now is the stranger lying in the bed beside you — on the right side that he has wordlessly claimed as his own. Before Eric was a guy you shared beds with, he was a guy you found in the rain. A boy with big, wet, puppy dog eyes who followed you like a stray after the world fell.
That was all he was to you for a month straight. A burden. Deadweight. An ever-anxious being that had nearly gotten you killed more times than you could count. You never saw him any differently until you almost died — a certain death involving you, an old beartrap, several aliens with uber-sensitive hearing, and a stupid boy who was too dumb to leave you behind.
“I can’t leave you,” Eric blubbered through tears, whimpering in faint whispers so the blind monsters wouldn’t hear. “I won’t.”
“Then you won’t make it at all, you idiot,” you spat through gritted teeth, eyes wide and stern and glittering. You wouldn’t let yourself cry, not even with your leg all but torn to shreds, but Eric’s sudden stubbornness scared you. Why now? Of all times? you thought to yourself, Why does he have to be so stubborn now?
“I wouldn’t want to,” Eric promised, bloodied hands trembling where they gripped your arms. “I wouldn’t want to make it without you.”
That was a month or so ago, but you carry the horrors of that day still.
In the vivid nightmares that rattle your bones. In the marred skin of your ankle, hidden beneath bandages, slowly healing with each passing day. And in the strange boy with puppy dog eyes who still hasn’t left your side.
Let me check your leg, Eric scribbles on a notepad.
His handwriting is slanted and small and hardly legible — fitting for a man whose mind is always racing faster than he can keep up.
The marker is fading slowly, too, dying from excessive use because the majority of your conversations are spoken through written words on a page. You’ve gone through a notebook or three already.
You snatch the notepad from his grip to write a response of your own. Eric peels the tattered blanket from your body to survey the gauze around your ankle. He peeks beneath the bandage, and his chest pinches at the sight — not because of his sensitive stomach, but because of the harsh reminder of the day he almost lost you.
The paper swishes faintly when you turn the notebook back to him. Okay, Dr. Eric :P, you’ve written in sloppy cursive. The boy grins at the mischievous look in your eyes.
“That’s Doctor Eric Esquire to you,” he corrects in a whisper that makes his accent sound more posh than usual. He smooths the gauze back into place with a gentle hand and says, “You’re healing fine, I think. I’ll have to go out and scavenge for more bandages soon, but these should last for another…”
The sounds of your rapid scribbling fill the quiet cabin. Eric trails off in wait, wide eyes darting from the marker in your hand to the pinched look of concentration on your face.
He sees a strange sort of giddiness sparking in your otherwise serious features that makes him fearful. Intrigued, yes, but still distantly fearful. All your ideas tend to get him into trouble.
The notebook turns to him again. His stomach does a backflip.
Wanna go on an adventure?
“This is… Not what I was expecting,” Eric muses beneath the sounds of a rushing waterfall.
His words echo slightly in the expanse of the dank cave. It’s the first time you’ve heard his voice in full volume, deep and accented and smooth. His pretty whispering annoyed you to no end back when he was just a stranger with exactly zero survival instincts. Now, you never want him to stop talking.
“Well, that’s why it’s an adventure,” you lilt, wiping water from your brow with the neck of your t-shirt.
Your clothes stick to you in places where the waterfall had splashed you on your way underneath it. The still air of the cave, strangely cool compared to the humid air outside of it, makes you fight back a shiver.
Eric eyes you from a distance, features swirled in a quiet concern. It’s impossible to relish in this little ounce of peace when you have the kind of mind he does — the kind of mind that’s always anxious and always filled with thoughts of you.
He cares so much for you, far more than he planned to, that it’s made him chronically fearful. He’s grown to realize, since he met you, that the two words are rather synonymous. You can’t have love without fear — and what is there to be fearful for, if not for the ones you love?
“Your bandages really shouldn’t be getting wet, you know?”
You scoff and limp further into the damp hollow. The quiet sound of your steps reverberates within the stone walls, along with the subtle scuffing of your bad foot. “You said I was healing okay, remember?” you huff and drop the basket in your elbow onto the cobblestone.
“I said you were healing fine,” Eric chuckles, crossing his arms over his chest. “There’s a difference.”
“Not really,” you shrug with a scrunched nose, flashing him a fleeting glance over your shoulder. You turn away again and wince at the distant ache in your ankle when you crouch.
Sometimes the scars hurt like they’re still fresh, still weeping scarlet and throbbing like a new wound. Eric’s not a doctor, but he tells you that it’ll probably be that way forever. “Phantom pains, I think they call it,” he says in a posh accent that makes him sound more official than he really is. You’re inclined to believe him, anyway.
The boy watches as you sort through the wicker basket you stole — or borrowed, as you claim, “’cause it’s not like the owner’s coming back for it anytime soon.” It’s full of stuff you wouldn’t let him see, like it was some kind of big secret.
He grimaces when you squat, putting unnecessary weight on a barely healing leg. He knows it hurts, even when you pretend it doesn’t — especially when you pretend it doesn’t. His chest pinches like the ache is his own. Like sympathy pains or something. He worries so much for you that you’ve given him fucking sympathy pains.
“We shouldn’t have left,” Eric agonizes, wiping a pair of anxious hands down his face. He swipes his fingers through his hair and finds the chestnut curls now partially damp. “I shouldn’t have let you leave. I mean, what if we have to run, huh? What if we have to—”
“We won’t,” you groan as you stand to full height again. You hold an old quilt in one arm and gesture wildly with the other. “That’s what the waterfall is for. They can’t hear us under here. Nothing’s coming.”
He knows you’re right, but it doesn’t worry him any less.
“How’d you even know this was out here?”
You falter for a moment. A mere blink of a second. But Eric catches it immediately because there isn’t anything about you he doesn’t instantly notice. He’s rarely ever seen you, his silver-tongued girl, so ambivalent. And something about it frightens him.
“I was… on a walk one day… while you were out scavenging—” you answer slowly, shrugging like it isn’t a big deal at all, though you immediately follow it with, “—Don’t get angry.”
Eric’s pink mouth falls softly agape, opening and closing like a fish’s might, while he tries to find the words to say. To shout. To scream.
“Y-You... You— You left without me?” he stammers, voice booming.
The words ring across the expanse of the shallow cave, bouncing off the damp stone walls. It’s the loudest he’s heard himself talk since the world ended, and the notion startles him. Like a dog just learning how to bark.
Eric’s breath hitches in his throat as his dark eyes widen in fear. He waits instinctively for the screeching of far-off monsters and their booming footsteps — prepares for an adrenaline rush that’ll give his weak arms the strength to carry both of you to safety.
It never comes.
The sounds of the waterfall shield you from the war raging outside of it.
When the panic passes, the anger resumes.
“Do you have any idea how dangerous that is?” Eric agonizes, quieter now, though the corner of his lip twitches with withheld anger.
You keep your back to the boy and lay out the contents of the wicker basket. A floral quilt to cushion the stone flooring, two bottles of wine to share between you, several bags of stale chips, and one MP3 player that’s somehow stronger than the end of the world. You pay Eric no mind as he continues to rant behind you.
“What if you’d gotten killed? What if— What if you got lost and I couldn’t find you—?!”
“Don’t shout!” you gripe despite your own booming voice.
“Why not?” Eric questions with a cynical laugh. “I thought nothing could hear us under here?”
You spin back around to face him, grimacing slightly when your healing wounds start to burn. You tilt your chin in a look of defiance, though your eyes sparkle faintly in the dim natural light — something mischievous and strangely shy.
“I don’t want you to shout because I put a lot of effort into this,” you answer in a steady voice, lips quirking in a distant smile. “And we can’t enjoy it if you’re gonna be grumpy the entire time.”
Eric blinks at you for several long moments, brown eyes wide like an owl. Only then does he notice what you’d set up for him in the brief minutes he’d been blinded by his anger. A picnic of sorts — fashioned with a moth-eaten quilt, dusty wine bottles, and snacks you’d scavenged and seemingly stashed like a squirrel. It’s about as fancy as you can get in an apocalypse.
His mouth opens and closes again, this time in a quiet sort of shock. “Wh… What?”
“Well, you kinda spent your entire birthday taking care of me, so… I figured we were past due for a celebration.”
Eric’s brows pinch together. A furrow of deep thought settles between them.
He realizes he hadn’t thought twice about his birthday till now. Hadn’t thought twice about turning another year older, just like he hadn’t thought twice about needing to be repaid for taking care of you. He did both things without thinking. He can’t control his urge to dote on you like he can’t control the existential dread of getting older.
“How’d you know it was my birthday?”
“‘Cause you told me once,” you shrug. “And I keep track of the days in my calendar, so—”
“So, you’re saying that… That you did all this...” the man laughs, gesturing to the cave and the waterfall and the wine. “For me?”
A similar-sounding laugh sputters from your own mouth ‘cause you do it all for him. From going on stupid picnics to fighting monsters from another planet. Everything you’ve done up until this point, you realize now, you’ve done for Eric. You keep on living despite the unfavorable odds for Eric.
“Of course I did. It’s not that big of a deal,” you scoff, crossing your arms over your chest to shield your bleeding heart. “I mean, you kinda saved my life. The least I can do is take you on a stupid fucking picnic.”
When you turn around again to ease yourself onto the blanket, Eric tries to make out the words to thank you. Not just for what you’ve done here, but for what you’ve done all the days since he found you. Because you’ve saved his life too, more times than he could count, actually — ‘cause that’s just what you do. You save each other and don’t think twice about it because that’s what you do when you care for someone.
He forgot all about birthdays and picnics and what it meant to be alive before he found you. And now that you’re here, you spend every single day reminding him of everything the end of the world begs him to forget.
“I’m— I’m sorry… I’m sorry for shouting at you,” Eric stammers in a sheepish murmur, scratching awkwardly at the back of his neck.
“I know,” you nod, smiling as you pat the spare spot beside you. “Now stop being weird and come sit down.”
The wine is warm, the chips are stale, and the quilt just barely cushions the hard ground beneath you — but everything’s still somehow perfect. Your MP3 player is almost as old as you are and cracked down the middle, but the music plays just perfectly from its headphones, anyway.
Maybe it’s perfect ‘cause it’s not perfect.
Or maybe it’s perfect because you’re here.
You sit side-by-side on the handmade blanket, legs crossed and knees brushing, as you share an earbud between you. Conversation ebbs and flows between snacking. Music fills the silence.
I was sittin’ in a crummy movie with my hands on my chin,
All the violence that occurs, seems like we never win...
Eric tips his head back to down the rest of the cheesy crumbs in the package he holds in a pale fist. His scruffy cheeks jut like a chipmunk as he chews through the mouthful. “I missed this, you know?” he mumbles.
You set the wine bottle beside you after taking a lengthy sip, licking the bitter-sweet grape from your lips. “What?” you wonder aloud. “The wine? The Cheetos? The music?”
The boy goes quiet as he ponders the question. He figures he was talking about you, mostly — this sort of connection between humans, this sort of comfort, this sort of normalcy. The music answers your question in his silence.
—Love and mercy, that’s what you need tonight…
So love and mercy, to you and your friends tonight…
He nods anyway. “All of the above, actually…”
“You know what I miss?” you wonder beneath the rustling of the Scooby Snacks you dig your hand into. You chuck a cartoon bone into your mouth and find the graham-cracker components have gone soft with time. “I miss driving down backroads… going way faster than what’s probably allowed… with the windows down and the radio all the way up…”
Eric watches the far-off look in your eyes as you stare, unblinking, at the waterfall ahead of you. Clear water rushes from the mountain and falls hard onto the cobbles and the still water below. Rogue drops splatter inside the shallow cave, occasionally splashing you with fat droplets.
The running waterfall cast fleeting shadows over your face, littered now with faint scars. Your features are much softer than he’s used to in the natural light.
“I miss college parties,” he confesses, wiping his palms on his knees.
You wash the dry graham cracker out with another sip of wine and try not to laugh as you swallow it down.
“Why’s that funny?” Eric wonders through his own chuckle, only partially offended.
“I don’t know… I guess I just didn’t take you for a partier.”
“I wasn’t really…” he concedes with a shy shrug, gaze averted and cheeks pink. “But I was a really big fan of karaoke.”
“Well, that makes a lot more sense.”
“Doesn’t it?” Eric humors with a scrunched nose.
You tilt your head back to laugh — a pretty, airy sound that echoes within the cobbled walls, only partially drowned out beneath the rushing waterfall. You shift closer toward him when you’re upright again, probably without realizing, but Eric notices. He can’t help but notice everything you do. And he can’t help but lean instinctively closer to you, too.
He can smell the natural scent of you beneath the various surrounding ones — of freshwater, pine, and whatever cologne was spritzed on your shirt before you found it. He can smell the sweet wine on your breath, too, and he quickly realizes that you’re close enough to kiss. If only he weren’t so chicken shit.
The proximity makes his cheeks flush, though you’re not nearly as fazed by it.
“I forgot what that felt like…” you muse in a quiet voice of disbelief.
Eric smiles so hard his eyes squint. “What?”
“I don’t know… just, like, happiness? I guess?” you laugh. “I used to think that was impossible before now.”
“Yeah… Me too.”
The conversation lulls for a moment. The music playing in your ears takes over:
—I was standing at a bar and watching all the people there…
All the loneliness in this world, well, it’s just not fair…
You cage your smile between your teeth in a feeble attempt to conceal how wide it’s grown. Your eyes are wide and sparkling, likely from the wine, as they flit between both of his darker ones. Eric exhales a breathy chuckle in response, all giddy and nervous for a reason he can’t name (probably from the wine, too, if he had to guess).
He feels himself leaning in to kiss you before he realizes it. He only catches himself when you pull unknowingly away, reaching again for the glass bottle at your side. His heart drops to his swirling stomach as his cheeks flare a deep pink.
“I’m glad you followed me like a creep for a week straight, you know that?” you confess with a teasing squint in your eyes as you bring the lip of the bottle to your mouth.
Eric scoffs at the memory, which feels like yesterday and ancient history all at once.
He was by himself when the world first fell — a stranger in a strange country, and the loneliest he’d ever been in his life. And, perhaps, the most scared, too.
Then, all of a sudden, he sees this girl rush out of an alleyway and into a monster-infested street to save a dog from an otherwise unavoidable death. Eric watched from a distance as you returned the scared pup to its owners — a very young couple cowering behind a car, not that much older than you.
You pointed them in the direction of a military base setting up camps for civilians then went the opposite way. Away from guaranteed protection. Like the safest hands were your own.
Eric made the quick decision to follow you as you went. He figured if you were brave enough to save some dog that wasn’t yours, and stare death directly in the face while you did it, then you could do just about anything.
He didn’t know, then, that he was making the best decision he’d ever made in his life.
“Well, I’m glad you didn’t pummel me in the face for following you like a creep.”
“I should’ve,” you quip. “But I liked your company too much, I guess…”
“Liked?” the boy parrots, laughing loudly at the turn of phrase. “Is this your way of saying you’re finally tired of me?”
You roll your eyes and hide your smirk behind the neck of the wine bottle. “Do you think I would’ve done all this shit if I wasn’t the least bit fond of you, Eric?”
The question is rhetorical, but you expect a lighthearted quip from the British boy anyway. Your words seem to settle something heavy on him, though. It’s the very first time you’ve admitted out loud, without a shred of sarcasm, how much you really care for him.
Eric forgets to say anything at all. The cave fills with a loud silence. The steady drumming of the waterfall and the whisper of rustling trees. Strangely peaceful for the end of the world.
“Wanna know something wild?” he asks you after a few long moments. His accent makes the words sound heavy on his tongue. Your brows raise to egg him on, and he continues, stumbling over himself in the process. “I’m… I’m not happy the world ended, but… I am— I am glad that it brought me you.”
Your breath catches. It’s the most profound thing anyone’s ever said to you, you think. Way deeper than any measly ‘I love you.’ And how are you meant to respond to that? To his confession that the end of the world was worth finding you? There’s no string of words in the English language that could possibly compare to that.
Eric waits for your response with bated breath. He hopes for an affirmation of your similar affection, of course, but a rejection would be better than nothing at all. He blinks at you with hopeful chocolate eyes, then flinches away when you laugh.
“You’re such a sap,” you say, giggling, as you reach suddenly for his face.
You cradle his scruffy jaw between warm and gently calloused hands, pulling him into you with an admirable effortlessness. You kiss him like it’s natural to you — like he was never just a stranger — like you’ve spent entire lifetimes kissing him.
You take the breath from his lungs with little effort. Eric tips his head back and sighs when you swipe your tongue along his chapped bottom lip. The exhaled breath fans across your cupid’s bow, and you smile against his mouth as you clamor gracelessly into his lap — straddling his lean hips and pressing your beating heart to his.
The earbuds fall carelessly to the ground, and the fading song plays muffedly from beside you:
—Love and mercy, that’s what you need tonight…
So love and mercy, to you and your friends tonight…
Your mouths click when they part, a subtle sound beneath the drumming waterfall behind you. Your eyes are heavy and lidding as they fall to Eric’s kissed mouth — now a rosier shade, gently swollen, and shining with your spit. A stamp of ownership, almost, that makes your chest swell with pride.
Eric looks up at you with big, wet eyes as his hands fidget on either side of your waist. “I’ve been waiting for that for ages,” he confesses in a low murmur.
A small smile quirks faintly at the edges of your mouth. “Could you maybe say something that’s not super cliché?” you tease.
“How about… I really, really want to kiss you again?” Eric offers in a honeyed tone that makes his accent heavier. He swallows hard, adam’s apple bobbing. “And that I… I wanna make you feel good?”
You cage your bottom lip between your teeth to hide your smile. Your fingertips are calloused and cold as they toy with the curls at the nape of his neck — tiny chestnut strands coiled in perfect ringlets. Eric fights back a shiver.
“Then I’d say that…” you begin with a mischievous lilt to your voice, wild eyes flitting from his pink lips to his watery eyes. “I’ve been waiting for that for ages.”
You part from him then, taking the warmth of your body with you as you sit on your knees across from him. The rugged ground is hardly cushioned by the thin quilt. You can vaguely feel small rocks digging into your skin, but your need for him is much louder.
You cross your arms in front of yourself to swipe your t-shirt over your head. You toss the discarded fabric carelessly beside you, then work at the buttons of your jeans — also borrowed, and just a half-size too big for you.
Eric watches with his heart in his throat. It’s the most naked you’ve ever been in front of him before. The sight of your bare skin, covered now only in the sports bra you’ve had since the world ended, makes his head swim. It takes him a moment too long to realize he should be undressing, too, and he rushes to catch up.
The two of you undress yourselves in relative silence. The sight is hardly as sexy as you’d expect — full of fumbling limbs far too eager to be graceful. Eric’s shirt gets stuck on his chin. Your jeans get caught at your ankle. The tense lull between you ebbs into a symphony of entwining giggles.
With your clothes scattered in abandoned piles, you lay back against the blanket. Eric settles on top of you with a strange sort of effortlessness — like it’s muscle memory to him, even though neither of you has done this for a long, long while — much less with each other.
The weight of his body is warm and heavy over yours. You slide your hands under his arms and curl them over his freckled shoulders, digging your nails softly into his pale skin to pull him further into you.
You watch with heavily lidded eyes as Eric brings his hand to his mouth. He slides his pointer and middle finger between his lips, wetting the pads of them with his tongue. You exhale a deep breath when the limbs come out again, glittering in the low light.
He studies your features with a dark and unwavering stare as he slips his fingers between the lips of your pussy — tracing the velvety lips for a moment before easing them slowly inside. Your eyes flutter shut at the foreign feeling. Eric smiles to himself, wrist flexing, as he explores your silky cunt with his fingers.
“Please fuck me,” you sigh when his palm bumps your swollen clit. Your head tips back as your hips buck upward, all but melting under his touch. “Please.”
It takes Eric a moment or more to formulate a response. You’ve never been so subservient like this before, so needy for him. This must be the eighth wonder of the world, he thinks to himself, as he continues to work you open with unworthy hands.
“Have to get you ready for me first,” he tells you, voice and low gritty, as he exhales a breathy chuckle that fans across your jaw. “Don’t wanna break you, honey.”
You manage a scoff in response. “Well, that’s very presumptuous of you— oh…”
Eric crooks his fingers until the tips of them brush a spongy depth inside you. Your mouth falls agape at the feeling, so foreignly full beneath him. His spit-slick lips curl into a lazy smirk. “That shut you up, didn’t it?”
You would’ve spit a snide remark back at him if his thumb hadn’t pressed so mercilessly to your delicate clit then. The words dissolve like dust on your tongue and escape only as a breathy moan.
Eric continues his relentless pursuit with nothing but two of his fingers. Relentless, you think,because he’s hardly trying to make you cum now. You’re not sure if he’s just oblivious to how good he’s making you feel, or if he’s pushing you to the edge and jerking you back on purpose. It’s agony either way.
He only stops when his pointer and middle finger start to prune, the pads of them softly wrinkled from your honey. He wipes them off on the quilt like a total barbarian. You would’ve said something about that, too, if you weren’t still trying to catch your breath.
Eric rises to his knees. His bare chest, dusted with sparse hair over the sternum, rises and falls with uneven pants. His cock hangs heavy between his spread thighs — half-hard, glowing red, and leaking faintly at the tip. His wide hands are softer than your own as they smooth up and down the length of your thighs. His thumbs rub soothingly over the supple insides of them — with a touch almost as gentle as the melted chocolate gaze he looks at you with.
“Are you alright?” he wonders, all quiet and suddenly shy, like you aren’t all but dripping for him now.
“You’re so annoying,” you gripe with a scoffed-out laugh, rolling your eyes because you’re certain he’s teasing you. Your stomach sinks when the genuine glimmer in his eyes doesn’t waver. You squirm beneath him and his unyielding gaze. “I’m okay, Eric,” you murmur sheepishly, never easily serious.
He nods to himself and swallows hard, still visibly unsure. It makes you wonder if he’s second-guessing. “Stop staring and kiss me, you asshole,” you grouse with a forced laugh, tightening your grip on his shoulders.
Eric’s mouth quirks in an absentminded smile. “Just let me look at you for a second…” he whispers, squeezing the outsides of your thighs with warm hands.
“We don’t have to whisper anymore, dummy,” you tease in a hushed tone of your own.
His grin widens until his eyes wrinkle at the edges and his tongue pokes softly through his teeth. He laughs despite himself and grips his heavy cock in his fist. “You’re so mean, you know that?” he asks, folding your knee back with his free hand. You’re not sure if he’s expecting a real response, but he slips into you before you can give him one.
He fucks into you slow — bitterly, painfully, and agonizingly slow — forcing you to feel every inch of him. His cock is of average length, but girthy enough to stretch you open. You’re suddenly grateful he thought to use his fingers on you despite your impatience, but the two of them alone hardly equate to how thick he is.
Both of you inhale sharply when he’s fully sheathed inside of you, neither exactly used to the feeling. Eric allows you a moment or more to adjust before sliding out again. You exhale softly together in entwining moans that get lost beneath the sounds of a raging waterfall.
Eric thrusts into you again with gritted teeth, trying not to whimper too loudly when your pussy clenches around him. He bends at the waist to hide his face in your neck and exhales all his pathetic moans there.
He keeps one hand clenched into a fist on the blanket to prop up his weight; his other slides beneath your head to cushion your skull from the hard ground. You grip the boy by his flexing biceps, digging your nails into the skin every time he thrusts into you. Jaw clenched, nose scrunched, eyes squinted — you take his cock without complaint despite the very loud feeling that it’s all too much for you.
Eric is everywhere, and the notion alone overwhelms you. He’s in you, on top of you, all over you. Like the air you breathe. You need him just the same. Not because he’s your friend but because you’re scared you might seriously die without him.
It’s dramatic at best. At worst, it’s the exact opposite feeling you should have for anyone in the apocalypse, where death is essentially promised for both of you.
Tears prick your eyes at the thought, though you’d rather blame them on Eric’s merciless thrusts. They’re sloppy and unmeasured as he struggles to find a rhythm. He’s similarly overwhelmed by the pleasure. You can tell by the way his body trembles over yours, and the way he buries loud moans into your pulsepoint. You can feel the vibrations of each moan in your veins.
The way you’re pinned beneath him cages your clit between your bodies. Every time Eric’s lean hips thrust upward and back again, the coarse thatch of hair above his cock brushes your sensitive button. You couldn’t free yourself from it if you tried. You’re not sure if you even want to.
“This is good for you, right?” Eric wonders through heavy pants, voice wavering under the weight of his pleasure. “Please tell me this is good for you.”
Any other time, you would’ve laughed at him, but now you only nod. Rapidly and with your jaw clenched tight. Just as pathetic as he is.
“’S good,” you promise through gritted teeth as the coil in the pit of your stomach starts to tighten. “It’s so good, Eric. Feels so fuckin’ good.”
The affirmation makes him moan. Loudly. Enough for you to be momentarily grateful for the cover of the rumbling waterfall. Eric buckles down over you and strengthens his rapid, irregularly timed thrusts with a feeble cry.
Your own whine rumbles in your throat, falling from your mouth like honey. Your warm skin, now slick with a layer of sweat, begins to buzz. The need for release builds like a dam within you — somewhere deep, right where the tip of Eric’s cock fucks into you.
Your thighs start to tremble on either side of his waist. Your hips begin to buck despite yourself. You can’t be sure if you’re running from the pleasure now, or chasing it entirely.
“You gotta cum, baby,” Eric tells you through a pitiful whine, face still tucked into your neck. He licks his lips and starts to babble: “I can’t— I’m too close— I need you to cum before I do, baby— Need you to cum right now— Fuck.”
“Is your idea of dirty talk always this pathetic?” you would’ve joked if you weren’t already cumming for him.
Your mouth falls agape in a silent moan as your head tips back into his palm. Your back arches as you reach the height of your pleasure, pussy fluttering through every wave of it.
Eric fucks you the entire way through your orgasm — despite your nails biting crescent shapes into his shoulders, despite your velvety cunt tightening around him, despite the very overwhelming feeling that he might burst entirely.
Only when your body goes lax does he pull out of you.
The empty feeling makes you whimper. Your weeping pussy clenches around nothing while Eric jerks himself off. You can’t see him, but you can feel his wrist moving in rapid motions between your legs.
A groan rumbles deep in his throat as he tenses on top of you. His still body goes rigid. Something warm and wet spits on your inner thigh a second later — a heavy load of his pearly white cum, which he gives you three of before he’s milked himself dry.
Eric collapses on top of you when he’s officially spent. He forgets to hold up his weight, and you deliberately decide not to remind him. You let the man soak in the waves of his pleasure while you strain to reach the wicker basket at your side — struggling for a moment to find the handful of napkins at the very bottom, then using them to wipe up the mess on your thigh.
“Ah, shit,” Eric curses when he notices (his mess or his weight, you can’t quite tell). He sniffles and rolls off of you. “Sorry…”
Your head whips in his direction. You find his face all flushed, glowing red along the apples of his cheeks and the very tip of his nose. His eyes are big and wet, too, glassy like he might cry.
Buzzing with concern, you rise to your knees, watching intently as Eric reaches for your discarded pile of clothes. You set them aside when he passes them to you and hold his face in your hands instead. His stubble scratches at your delicate palms. Your wide eyes sparkle with concern as they dart over his teary features.
“Hey… Hey, what happened?” you agonize. “Are you okay?”
Eric laughs at himself, then sniffles again as he wipes his nose with the back of his hand. “Yeah… So much for not being cliché, right?” he jokes.
“What happened?” you repeat, giggling this time at his crooked smile.
“Nothing,” he assures, shrugging his freckled shoulders. “I just… I’m just really happy, I guess…”
Your tight chest deflates with a sigh of relief as you nod in response. “Yeah… I am, too.”
Eric’s grin widens at your confession. His cheeks speckle a rosy color, like he’s pleasantly surprised by the response — as if his softening cock isn’t still sparkling with a mixture of your cum.
You meet his smile with a scowl, rolling your eyes as you shove playfully at his shoulder. “Don’t look at me like that,” you grumble and turn away from him, reaching for your clothes.
Your body looms over him as you stand, putting very little weight on your scarred leg. You bend at the waist to tug your underwear up your thighs.
Eric shoves his boxers on with a cheeky grin. “I’m really glad I found you, you know that, right? Even though you’re mean to me all the time?”
You scoff and drag your sports bra over your torso, yanking it at the hem to pull it over your breasts. “I’m happy you found me, too, stalker,” you respond in a monotone that would otherwise suggest the opposite. But Eric catches you smiling when you reach beside him for your shirt and knows you really mean it.
“You love me,” he insists playfully, right before stealing a kiss from you.
His lips only manage to brush the corner of your mouth in his haste, but he grins wide about it anyway. Your face screws like you weren’t begging him to fuck you ten minutes ago, as you wipe your cheek with the back of your hand.
“You’re disgusting…” he hears you mumbling as you turn away, tugging your shirt over your head.
Ghoul and I have had a lot of on our plates unfortunately due to work and school so we have been pretty inactive on the blog. Once school our for the winter break I should be back to posting regularly (or at least trying to) and in the meantime I’ll see if I can queue anything
summary: rafe is stressed, and keeps staring at his girlfriend with the cutest puppy eyes. so what's the worst that could happen if she gave him a little love and attention just like she would to a puppy?
pairing: rafe cameron x reader
warning: stressed rafe, swearing, rafe is actually a softy for his girl, sort of suggestive? dumbification if you squint, rafe calls reader mama once, rafe loves his girls tits, not proofread.
wc: 363
“FUCK.” was the only thing heard through the vast halls and spaces of tannyhill, that and the door slamming, which y/n swore she felt shake the entire house. Padding down the spiralling staircases cautiously she sought out her boyfriend.
Finding him outside sat by the pool with his head in his hands, mumbling incoherent curses and phrases to no one in particular, she could tell he was angry, that was plain to see.
“Rafey..?” she speaks softly, crouching down next to her boyfriend, a perfectly manicured hand gently moving to his half covered bicep, the shirt hugging his muscles perfectly.
“Mmm.. hiya babygirl..” Rafe mutters, looking at y/n with puppy eyes, the same eyes he had been giving her every day for the last week when he thought she wasn’t looking.
“Hiya rafey.. You’re givin’ me puppy eyes again.. Y’know like i mentioned that y’do last night..?” she giggles, tilting her head to the side to get a better view of the boy in front of her.
“Told ya princess, i don’ give ya fuckin’ puppy dog eye- ohh.. Mhh,” Rafe’s sentence was quickly cut off as y/n’s hand found purchase in the long messy strands of his hair.
Scratching in a claw motion as she watched her once scary boyfriend push up into her hand like he was chasing the feeling.
“Ffuck.. Mama- can’ d’tha.. T’ me gon’ make me all dumb.. Shhit- stop i-it..” Rafe stutters out nervously, yet the way his body reacts when y/n starts to pet him exactly like a puppy tells her that he doesn’t really want this to stop.
“Oh? Stop, hm? Cmon rafey.. Just enjoy it.. Let mama take care of her boy..” She giggles again, this time softly, her voice low with care and intent.
“Your.. boy?” Rafe flushes as he tries his damndest to process that nickname, and he likes it, he likes it a little too much, he thinks. When you pull him into your tits however? His face is buried in there until the sun starts to set and you’ve had to crack your knuckles multiple times from the cramps of petting the boy atop of you.
wraps ⠀ her ⠀ lips ⠀'round ⠀ a ⠀ Mexican ⠀ Coke ⠀—⠀cl16
summary ⠀: ⠀Lando Norris’s sister finally gets her break on social media, and catches the eye of a certain ferrari driver, much to Lando’s (older) brother dismay.
warnings ⠀: ⠀allusions to cigarettes & alcohol, Lando trying to shelter his sister from his profession, charles been absolute downbad, rough translated french & spanish
type ⠀& ⠀notes ⠀: ⠀smau ⠀+ ⠀hii y’all, rafesnerd here.. its been a long while since i wrote anything.. so here we are with a charles social media au!
faceclaim ⠀: ⠀lucia ferrato
pairing ⠀: ⠀charles leclerc x norris!reader
ynnorris
fake ID (Coke & Rum remix) ּ riton
liked by maxfewtrell, lando, charlesleclerc and 67,521 others
ynnorris ּ guess who finally got her brothers blessing to unprivate her insta mhhmm yup!
lando ּ ❤️ by creator
okay you make it sound like i hid you from the world!!
ynnorris
effectively you did!
pietra.pilao ּ ❤️ by creator
oh we know this diva and we know her well!
ynnorris
oh stawpp max watch out i’m stealing her 😘☺️
maxfewtrell
erm. no??? thats my woman
ynnorris
she aint boutta beeee 😚
carlossainz55 ּ ❤️ by creator
ahhh! ¡La pequeña señorita finalmente se muestra!
(the little lady finally shows herself!)
ynnorris
i would have earlier if lando wasnt overprotective, hi carlos ❤️
userone
wait!! so this is the little norris we hear about?? she’s gorgeous oml 😍 also charles in the likes?
userfive
i was abt to say girl wdym charles in the likes BUT HE IS
usertwelve
WAIT HE’S WHAT???
userfifty
oh my god he is. OMFG
charlesleclerc ּ ❤️ by creator
alors tu es la petite dame ?
(so you’re the little lady?)
ynnorris
le seul et unique !
(the one and only!)
charlesleclerc
Et tu parles français ? Quel joyau Lando a-t-il caché ?!
(and you speak french? what gem has lando kept hidden?!)
ynnorris
Oh oui ! 😅 J'ai une licence de français
(oh yes! i have a degree in french)
charlesleclerc
oh mon bon dieu… 🫣
(oh my good god…)
texts between y/n and charles — instagram, 19.02.24
EXACTLY! like he is definitely just the dumbest boy for his partner when they’re alone on vacation or at tannyhill, his head in her lap while she scratches at his scalp and he’s just letting out tiny pathetic little mewls and whimpers when you scratch just the right sensitive spot,,,
and his eyes are rolling back like the gif below, like UGH he is drifting between the lines of horny and wanting to sob and let out all of his issues to you, spinning dangerously close to the hard shoulder of calling you mommy and mama and burying his head in your tits
summary: when the slytherin boys have finally had enough of you and theo bickering, they take matters into their own hands and handcuff the two of you together.
pairing: theo nott x virgin!reader
warning: 18+ smut, p in v, oral (f & m receiving), spanking, choking, soft dom!theo, enemies to lovers, swearing, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), creampie, theo is a bitch at the start, bratty!reader, hate sex, hair pulling, arguing, first time, not proofread, google translate italian.
wc: 2.3k
Theodore Nott, Theo to some, and your personal pain in the fucking ass. Since your first year as a slytherin, Theo had strived to make your life a living hell. It started with teasing you in italian but when you yelled back at in perfect italian with a thick accent, he stopped.
He stopped because the second the words “Theodore fottuta puttana” left your mouth, he was hard. He was hard because you had called him a bitch, in his mother tongue no less. That’s when he knew he was fucked.
The second time theo knew he was fucked was when he heard you holding a perfect conversation in italian with a fellow student and you had dropped your pen while absentmindedly spinning it around inbetween your fingers, which has already made Theo slightly more riled up than he would’ve preferred to be for the first class of the day at 8am, but when you cursed in italian? He was painfully hard.
In potions class that day, you had unfortunately been partnered with Theo, trying to make a calming draught. However, because Theo was nothing if not a nuisance he had decided to periodically whisper teasing Italian to you everytime you so much as leaned near him to grab the ingredients.
“Oh come on, Principessa, sai che sono irresistibile.” Theo whispered, a smirk on his face as you leaned over to grasp at the small, lace bag of lavender for the potion,
“irresistibile? Theo mi fai incazzare a non finire, fottuta puttana.” You scoffed, accent thick with anger and some sort of weight. You didn’t expect Theo to freeze when you spoke to him like that, his face flushed as he stared down at his shoes.
Choosing to ignore it was your best bet, you thought, maneuvering around Theo for the rest of the class where he stood, still frozen like you had petrified him.
When the bell rang it snapped Theo out of his trance, he rushed away from you, unlike usual when he would linger while you cleaned up the desk and surrounding areas to tease you and make you fall behind and be late to your next class or wherever your next destination was.
In the slytherin common room that night, Theo sat there with Mattheo and Lorenzo, the two boys beside him engaged in conversation. But Theo? He was staring at you as you moved around the common room so effortlessly.
He stood up suddenly, walking over to you, preventing you from walking back up to your dorm, his voice low and teasing as usual as you stared up at him, an unamused look on your face.
“Hey, ragazza carina..” He murmured softly, his hand slowly brushing at a strand of your hair that lay idly on your shoulders.
“Oh, datti una pausa, Theo? Non ho intenzione di andare a letto con te così facilmente come tutte le altre ragazze del nostro anno.” You quipped, Theo didn’t freeze this time, instead he pushed back at you.
“Perché no, hm? Sono fantastico, saresti fortunato a dormire con me.” Theo grumbled, his tone thick with anger and unresolved tension.
“perché theo! tutto quello che fai è infastidirmi e farmi incazzare tutto il giorno, ogni giorno, è come se fosse la tua fottuta missione nella vita. se avessi voluto scoparti, credimi, l'avrei già fatto.” You finally snapped, your hands flailing as you dug your heels into the fluffy rug by the fireplace where you stood, staring at Theo.
“perché-” But Theo was cut off by a very, very, disgruntled Draco holding a pair of handcuffs, and your face dropped. Draco had made a passing comment at a party one night that if you and Theo continued to bicker, he would handcuff you to each other for an entire day to make you get along.
You didn’t think he was serious, but it turns out he was. Grabbing Theo’s hand roughly, he enclosed the cold metal of the handcuff around his wrist, the mechanisms twirling as they locked. Draco made a grab for your wrist but you jerked away,
“Draco I swear to fucking god if you put those handcuffs on me.” You spoke, tone serious as you dodged him, not looking at where Theo’s wrist now idly swayed, he was frozen again. But this time you noticed it when you turned and brushed against him to dodge out of the way from Draco, Theo was hard.
You felt the cold metal click around your wrists, and the rough hands you could only recognise as Mattheo’s fell away from your wrist as your armed tugged back to your side, Jolting Theo out of his trance.
“Cosa... che cazzo?” Theo mumbled, blinking slowly as he glanced down to his wrist that was now bound to yours by the freezing metal of the handcuffs.
“Use your eyes, Theo, we’re handcuffed to one another.” You mutter staring up at him, noticing the way he bit his lip, god you wanted to kiss him, what? No. no you didn't, you hated him, you shouldn’t want that.
“Posso vederlo, cazzo, non cercare di essere intelligente con me.” Theo groans, staring down at you as his eyebrows knit together, and suddenly you’re being tugged behind him away from the common room, to somewhere you had never dared to venture, his dorm room.
Your socked feet stumbled and toppled against the cold stone stairs behind Theo, who stayed silent through your ushered protests. He had never acted like this, but some primal part of him had finally burst through the flood gates once your wrist was bound to his.
“Do- do you think, that this is fucking funny? Ragazza carina?” Theo spat, his eyebrows still knit together as he stared down at you, drinking in the sight of you in your pajamas, nothing but a slip dress, cardigan and frilly white socks.
“Think- think what, is funny, Theo..?” You faltered, staring up at him with a newfound vulnerability he had never seen, usually the roles were reversed if this situation had been somewhere public like a classroom.
“This. Ragazza carina, teasing me. Cursing me out in italian, leading me on, wearing all this shit when you know i’m there? It’s like you want to fucking ruin me. Do you know what you do to me, hm?” He accused, eyes still drinking in the sight of you.
“I don’t wear these for you Theo-” You started, before he cut you off, his free hand finding purchase under your chin as he tilted your head up, kissing your lips passionately yet full of so much greed and hatred you swore you could feel it.
He grabbed your free hand, placing it on his belt as he let it lay there. Your perfectly manicured hand was such a stark but welcomed contrast to the thick, dark and worn leather of his belt.
You hesitated until theo pulled back, a small and frail string of saliva connecting the gap between where your lips both aggressively worked against each other seconds before.
“Cazzo.. Get on your knees, bella, come on now.” He demands, low, but firm. And you oblige, much to your own shock, your brain starts to feel fuzzy, and you don’t even think about the fact you’re now on your knees on the cold stone floor of the dorm room, no less for the man you claim to hate so desperately.
You sank to your knees as they knocked together, your soft skin was always something Theo had found himself staring at when you would wear skirts. Gently reaching up with a shaky hand you undid the clasp on Theo’s belt. Hands fumbling nervously.
“Mhhm. That’s it amore, cmon. Good girl.” He chuckles as his hand slowly laces into the strands of your hair roughly, one small tug was given by his slender hand.
You pulled down his boxers with the one hand you still had control of, gasping softly when his cock pushed out and slapped against his sweatshirt. You didn’t expect him to be that big. Of Course you had heard the rumours about how big he was but you never believed them.
Gently your lips enveloped the head of his cock, a low and thick groan emits from the man above you, and some primal part of you urges to seek out more of them, like a lifeline you need to survive, somehow his moans push you deeper into that fuzzy subspace you had already fallen in to.
Bobbing your head as you slowly twirled your tongue around the prominent veins on his cock wasn’t something you thought would drive him crazy, but the second tug he gave at your hair told you differently.
“Mnngh. Shit bella, don’t.. Fuckin’ do that eh? Gon’ make me wanna ffu-fuck your brains out. Ohh merda- merda baby.” a string of profanities tumbled from Theo’s lips, urging you further into the mindset and need for his cock.
“D-do it then, teddy. Fuck m’ brains out.. Please?” You pulled back from his cock, looking up at him with swollen red lips and puppy dog eyes, that he found himself not being able to resist.
You felt his hand unlace from your hair, tugging you up by the handcuffed wrist still entwined to his, pushing you onto the bed on all fours, and you gasp, of course you do. But what makes you gasp more is when he roughly flips up the sheer but silky material of your nightgown, tugging off your panties so they meet your knees on his soft, plush sheets.
“Y’ ever done this before, bunny? Be honest with me.” He mutters, his fingers slowly running through your folds, gathering up the slick and wet on his fingers.
You shake your head, stuttering out a hesitant but simple “No.. no, I hav-haven’t teddy.. Will you be my first..?”. And he groans, he fucking groans. At that, and at the thought that someone as standoffish and cocky as you, someone who he had forced himself to hate overtime, is the same girl begging him to take her first.
“Shit, bella.. Such a big ask, you sure you want me t’ take it? If i- cazzo. If i fuck you now bunny i don’t know if i’ll ever be able to fuck another girl again..” He trails off, he knows that he’s right when he says it, if he claims you, like this, then he’ll just keep coming back to you.
“Then,, let me be the one you come back to- please, please fuck me Teddy.” You mewl out pathetically below him, then you feel it, large and intruding but strangely welcoming, the tip of his cock slowly pushing into the tight wetness of your entrance.
“Oh!.. oh my go-god teddy.. So big” You whimper, feeling just the tip of him stretching you is enough to push you closer to the edge you could never get with your own fingers or the toy you had bought at a novelty shop and successfully hidden during all of the dorm checks.
He pushes in further, his cock bullying your tight cunt as he stretches you, his bottom lip tucked between his teeth as he runs his free hand down your back softly, mumbling out small curses.
“That’s it bunny. Cazzo- y’ feel so damn good, so tight too..” He mutters out, pushing into you fully after slowly inching into you, letting you adjust as he feels your walls pulse and clench around him.
His free hand slowly moves to circle your clit with his middle finger, gently pinching at the small sensitive bud occasionally. He leans forward, his cock simultaneously pushing further against your cervix.
He whispers into your ear softly, his free hand now wrapped around your waist loosely. “Gonna move now, hm? The safeword is sheets.. Tell me if this gets too much and i’ll stop, yeah baby?”.
You nod, and he starts to move, slowly fucking you as you grasp at the sheets, eyes rolling back at just how good it feels to have him inside of you, bringing you closer and closer to the edge with every deep and meaningful thrust.
“Yesss- yes teddy- theo- oohh fuck- fuck.. Feels so go-good.” you babble out, meaningless curses and words tumbling from your lips as you feel the coil in your stomach getting ready to snap, the ropes frayed as you cling onto the small piece of resolve you still have.
“Good girl- that’s it bunny.. Cmon, let go f’ me.. Can tell you’re close, can ffuck-in’ feel it with every.. Fuck- gonna cum soon baby, you wan’ me in or out?” He mutters quickly, his thrusts losing rhythm as he nears his high.
You cum then, making a mess over his cock, babbling again as you beg for him to paint your insides, your thighs trembling and your free hand still gripping at the sheets. You feel him cum inside of you. Thick, hot ropes of cum painting your insides as you gasp.
“G-god bunny.. You did fucking amazing.. All that for your ff-first time.. Shit you’re perfect..” He smiles hazily slowly pulling out of your cunt, his cock covered in your’s and his cum, a filthy mixture yet one he definitely wouldn’t mind seeing again.
“Gon’.. fuck- gon’ get the key from m’ nightstand.. Know where Draco got these from.. Gonna unlock us an’ then clean y’ up.. ‘Kay babygirl..?” He mutters again, fishing the key from his bedside table as he uncuffs the both of you.
You nod weakly rolling onto your back on his bed as you stare up at the ceiling, causing Theo to chuckle softly before walking over to the bathroom, grabbing a warm wet washcloth as he gently wipes up the mess on your thighs before lowering himself between your legs.
Gently kissing down your stomach, all the way to your clit as he gently starts to lick up the mess you both made. Smiling against the soft skin of your thigh as he plants another meaningful kiss into the soft flesh.
And that’s how you fall asleep, clad in your nightgown with the man you once considered your enemy gently eating you out to clean up the mess between your legs, the mess he knew only he would get to cause again. Even if those words weren’t ushered by you, he knew.
can you do 2 and 18 from the drabbles propmts w carter kane💙😭
#2: “Hey, hey, calm down. They can’t hurt youanymore.”
#18: “What’s the matter sweetie?”
(Queen of Geeks)
I was running and I was scared. Actually, I wasterrified. Downright terrified for my life. Something was behind me and it wascatching up. I didn’t want to look back, but I knew that if I did look back, I couldtell if I was safe or not. But that didn’t matter when it jumped.
“Hey, (Y/N)!”
I caught my breath as if I was actually runningand opened my eyes. I was lying on the sofa, but now I was sitting up withsomeone’s arms around me. My first reaction was to fight but the arms held metighter.
“Hey,hey, calm down. They can’t hurt you anymore.” Carter whispered.Realising it was him; I grabbed his arm tightly and took a deep shaky breath.Behind me, I could feel Carter shaking.
Once I found my voice, I turned my head to look atCarter. Despite the fact that I was the one who had woken up from a nightmare,it looked like Carter was more shaken.
“Hey,what’s the matter sweetie?” I asked him.
My voice brought Carter back to reality and helooked at me.
“You scared me,” He pressed a kiss to my hair and Ileaned back against his chest.
“I had a nightmare,” I sighed. “Same one as usual,”
“I figured, you yelled my name and I thought thatsomething happened to you.”
“Just got scared out of my mind, nothing elsehappened.” I closed my eyes and held Carter’s arm. “Will you stay with me?”
