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#i didn’t get to say goodbye to someone and i was in the dark about everything they went through
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Hear me out:
Sirius travels to the future and goes to Hogwarts, he sees Remus as a professor and flirts with him and that kind of shit. It’s an au where Sirius in that timeline hasn’t escaped from Azkaban. He questions shit and Remus eventually tells him that he killed Lily, James and Peter and that he’s now in Azkaban and he can’t accept it, he has a mental breakdown. He finds out about what happened to the others like Marlene, Dorcas, Evan, Barty, Mary, Pandora etc. And he sees Luna yk and thinks about Pandora and he’s like “wait I thought Pandora was with Lily?”
then together they figure out what really happened cuz they see Peter on the marauders map. And they deal with him.
Then Sirius sees Harry and goes: “holy shit he looks just like James!! Am I an uncle?” And when Harry a little gets closer, he goes: “wait- his eyes? Why does he have blue eyes?” And Remus has to explain to him that Regulus joined the death eaters and died when he was 17 and that Harry’s mother is Lily and Sirius goes through another mental breakdown. And after he’s calmed down, he’s like: “so I’m not his uncle?” And Remus is like: “you’re the godfather.” And Sirius cheers up a little.
And when he sees that Harry is in love with Draco he is like: why do the potters have smth for the snarky, sad, depressed, Slytherin seekers who’s mean to them. And ppl from the black family. (I count Draco as a black cuz Narcissa is a black so yeah) (Regulus and Draco both getting the dark mark cuz they were forced😭😭😭)
and when Harry gets a tiny crush on ginny sirius goes like: HIS BEST MATES SIBLING?! OH LOOK HOW FUNNY SHES A GINGER TOO! ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME!? See moony I told you it’s in his genes. (You can decide yourself if it’s endgame hinny or Drarry)
And he sees the Weasley twins and he’s like: “they’re my new idols!!” And Remus is like: “We’re their idols actually”
And he sees himself and James in Ron and Harry.
And after a few months when Sirius has caught up with everything, he flirts with Remus and is like: “you know moony I’m horny” and Remus is like: “well I can’t do anything about it, that would be pedophilia” and Sirius is like disappointed. But they eventually have sex (help😭Sirius is like 15 or 16 btw) and Sirius is like: “yOuR cOcK hAs GrOwN”. They take every chance they get to make out. And Remus is like: “oh how much I’ve missed this, missed you”
(They’re at Hogwarts btw) (it’s up to you if he pretends like he’s a student or if he’s hiding in Remus’ room) (but some professors would know if Sirius pretended like he was a student) (maybe he goes in disguise with polyjuice potion or smth?)
(He meets Harry if he’s just hiding and tells him everything but if you decide him to disguise as a student then he just watches from afar and doesn’t talk to him often.)
Remus asks him if this counts as cheating on his past self. And Sirius is like: “no you’re still you, so cheating on you with you is impossible”
Mcgonagall finds out about Sirius but doesn’t tell anyone.
Oh and it takes place during PoA and GoF. But the events just don’t happen, it’s like a normal Hogwarts year. So yeah no voldy coming back. Or no Sirius escaping Azkaban.
You can decide if Remus stays at Hogwarts during GoF or not, like the events didn’t happen so he doesn’t have to leave. But it’s up to you if he leaves and lives with Sirius in his house during GoF. But they’re definitely at Hogwarts during PoA.
and a bit to the end of GoF they figure out a way to send Sirius back to the 70s. Sirius says goodbye to everyone and leaves (Remus is like FUCKING sad cuz he has no one left) and as soon as Sirius is back he begs his brother to run away with him so that that terrible things don’t happen and he talks to James and Remus about Peter, and they do smth to fix that.
So yeah that was it
SOMEONE WRITE THIS PLEASE!!
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tangledinlove · 3 months
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daylight
part one — the killerverse masterlist
luke castellan x daughter of ares reader
3.8k you and luke castellan via percy jackson
tags. the tangledinlove special (jealousy trope, best friends in love, denial of feelings etc.) and title from the tswift song
a/n. i havent written in sooo long please don’t make fun… also i kiss canon and characterization goodbye because i have not read the books since i was 7 years old
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i. back and forth from new york (sneaking in your bed)
Percy Jackson has become a light sleeper.
He didn’t think it was even possible to be yanked from sleep so harshly, but finds himself jolting awake whenever the kid nexts to him so much as turns over in his sleep.
He chalks the nerves up to his new… situation. If finding out your father is Poseidon and watching your mother turn into dust Avengers: Infinity War style could be called that.
This is also the first time he’s slept around so many people, so he thinks he’s just on edge. It’s not like he was ever close enough with anyone to warrant a sleepover before.
He shuts his eyes, willing himself to go back to sleep.
Until he can’t.
There’s tossing and turning from across the room, and then a muffled noise.
Someone’s sleep talking.
Percy groans in frustration before realizing he’s being too loud. Thankfully, the kid next to him seems to be desensitized to random nighttime grumblings. Which is understandable, seeing as there’s an entire classroom of other children around them.
Percy takes his pillow that’s barely thicker than his forearm and clamps it firmly over his ears. He counts sheep. He imagines them jumping over fences when that doesn’t work. And then he imagines them as Chiron when that doesn’t work either.
The grumbling doesn’t stop. But as Percy peels the pillow from his ears, he realizes that the measly fabric was able to muffle something.
The crying.
Percy squints across the room, his eyes well adjusted to the darkness by now. He can see the Thrasher now, tossing in their sheets as quiet sobs leave their mouth.
Heard what happened to you on the hill. And I just…
He can make out a dark mop of hair.
Wanted to say I’m really sorry.
Tall limbs and a red cotton shirt.
I know what you’re going through, believe me. I’m—
Luke.
That’s Luke’s bed, Percy realizes. The heroic and brave and wise boy who introduced him to camp is crying thirty feet away from him, and he has no idea what to do.
A twig snaps from outside, and Percy jolts upright. Ah, of course, how could he have forgotten about the second reason he’s feeling so twitchy? Apparently all of those mythological monsters he’d learned about are real, too. Because someone out there is plotting against him.
The memory of rain soaked clothes and the feeling of a sharp horn under his hands has Percy fumbling for his pocket, sweaty fingers closing around Riptide.
Should he wake Luke? Surely he would know what to do. But the idea sounded ridiculous. The camp was safe, it had to be. Grover had said it himself. It wasn’t possible for anything to get past that old tree on the hill.
But rational thinking was beginning to look less rational since he was alone with whatever creature was outside. Something was definitely on the other side of the wooden walls, and it was just Percy and his stupid pen against whatever monster is making its way nearer.
Whatever it is is nearly silent, making its way around with soft footfalls and quiet steps. But the wood of the patio outside creaks under their weight, and Percy thumbs the cap of his pen nervously.
The doorknob twitches, and a cold chill goes down Percy’s spine when he realizes that the door isn’t locked. The door creaks open without protest.
It’s a person.
Much less scary than previously anticipated, but a potential threat nonetheless. Percy watches in awe as the hooded figure carefully steps over the floorboard that he nearly tripped over about thirty times already, dodging limbs hanging out of beds and sleeping bags. A perfectly trained ninja in the night.
Percy pushes himself up using a forearm, concealing Riptide in his sleeve.
“Who are you?” he croaks, voice choppy from disuse. “I have a weapon, so don’t try anything.”
He winces at the way it's much less intimidating than he hoped.
The figure whips around, their hood slipping down to reveal their features. Moonlight streaming in through a window illuminates your face.
Oh. It’s you.
Luke had introduced you to him earlier in the day, and he can’t remember much about you. But he remembers the easy way Luke had been around you, a closeness that Percy hadn’t seen before.
You were lingering around the forge, and had gotten a front row seat to Percy nearly setting someone on fire.
“Luke, why are you giving hot tools to twelve year olds?” you’d asked as Percy shed his goggles and gloves frustratedly.
The two boys turned around to find you standing right behind them.
Percy flinched away, and Luke laughed at the face he was making. “Percy, this is—”
“Luke’s best friend,” you had proclaimed, slotting yourself against his side. Percy was on the fence with what he thought about Ares kids, but the difference between you and Clarisse could not be more clear. You were all smiles as you reached down to ruffle Percy’s hair. “Don’t tell Chris, or he’ll get a little angry.”
“Sure, killer,” Luke had said, a smile lighting up his face. He turned away from Percy to face you completely, both of his hands coming to rest on your sides. “I’ll see you at lunch?”
You saluted him seriously, but the way your other hand curled around his arm was awfully casual. “Absolutely, sir.”
He squeezed you once, sending you leaning away from his grasp. Percy felt like he was intruding on something as he watched the two of you playfully fight in front of him.
With a pointed look, Percy’d said, “Uhh. Alright. Nice to meet you?”
You at least had the shame to look a little embarrassed as you released Luke from the headlock you’d put him in. “It was nice to meet you too, Percy.” You took extra care to whack the back of Luke’s head as you left. “I’ll leave you to it!”
Luke watched you leave, a fond smile on his face as he tried to straighten out his hair. “Sorry, where were we?”
“What are you doing up?” you ask from across the room, keeping your voice as quiet as possible. Red Converse hit the floor softly as you make yourself comfortable in a cabin that’s definitely not yours. “It’s late. Go to sleep.”
“I thought curfew was strictly enforced here.”
“It is,” you yank your tattered hoodie over your head, dropping it onto the foot of Luke’s bed. “So keep it down before you wake up Katie. She’s snitched on me twice already.”
Percy huffs. “I’m not even—”
“S-Sorry.”
You and Percy go silent.
“It won’t… I won’t—”
“Luke,” Percy thinks he hears you say. You crouch at his side, sweeping his hair away from his face. Without even a grimace, or a sign of disgust, you wipe what must be his sweat off on your flannel pajama pants. Your voice is softened with affection. “It’s just a nightmare.”
“I won’t fail again,” he hiccups instead.
Your shoulders sag. With practiced hands, you shift the boy over and settle onto the empty part of the mattress with him.
Percy knows he’s being nosy, but curiosity keeps his eyes glued to your movements. You seem to know exactly what to do, digging through a bag at your feet and pulling out a cool water bottle. Your hands go to Luke’s shoulders as you gently coax him upwards, placing the water in his grip.
Luke’s eyes are still shut when he says, “Hey, killer.”
“Hi, hero.”
“What’re you doin’ here?”
When you don’t answer, Luke tips his head back to drink before tossing the bottle somewhere on the floor. He shifts over, giving you more room to lay down. Percy freezes when you meet his gaze head on through the darkness.
“Go to sleep,” you whisper, and Percy knows you’re not just talking to Luke.
You disappear into the mattress as Luke pulls you into a hug. Percy hears quiet rumbling as you whisper something to him, and he can’t tell which one of you pulls his head into the crook of your neck.
Luke sleeps silently for the rest of the night.
ii. now that i thought of you (things will never be the same)
Capture the Flag scares Percy to no end.
A chill goes down his spine as the other team lets out their battle cries, and he begins to doubt what Chiron said about no maiming being allowed. Some of those kids look like they’re out for blood.
The nerves only get worse as Annabeth drags him off to someplace in the woods and promptly leaves him to his own devices. No plan, no help, no sense of direction. He’s honestly expecting a bear to come out of the woods and maul him half to death, but after what feels like an hour of silence, he lounges back on a bit of rocks and watches the clouds.
“Hey, Goldilocks.”
Fear launches Percy to his feet as he takes in his surroundings. Riptide slips out of his hands and clatters onto his shield, spinning around the curved piece of metal like a Beyblade.
It’s you. Again.
“Relax,” you say quickly, raising your hands to show him you mean no harm. Your sword is tucked away and you have a slight smile on your face. “I was just going to ask you what you’re doing all alone out here. Our flag’s in the other direction, if you didn’t know.”
“I know,” Percy huffs, picking up his own weapon. He rights his armor as he looks at you suspiciously. “This girl Annabeth dragged me out here.”
“Annabeth,” you say amusedly. You glance around the two of you like she’s going to jump out of a bush.
“She’s long gone. She dragged me out here just to ditch me,” he says bitterly. “You know her?”
You have a weird smile on your face. “She’s like my little sister.”
Luke had said the same thing to him, out by the archery fields yesterday. “So you and Luke, you’re like, siblings too, then?”
“Gods, no!” you protest, your face scrunching together in disgust. “He’s just… He’s like…”
Percy watches you fumble for your words, his brow raised. You seemed pretty disgusted at his suggestion.
“He’s just Luke,” you decide on, and Percy nods, even though he doesn’t really understand. For a brief second, you look horrified again. “Did he… Say that we’re like siblings?”
“No,” he says, and watches as you smile slowly, satisfied.
Ohh, Percy wants to say. It’s like that. But he knows that you could probably tear his head off if you wanted to, so he bites his tongue.
“How long have you guys known each other?” he asks instead.
Your smile grows fond as you think about him. “Our entire lives. We were friends before either of us even knew about all of this.” You gesture to the two of you and then to the woods around you.
“That’s a long time.”
“Yeah. I couldn’t imagine this place without him,” you say thoughtfully, your gaze growing far away. “Hermes is lucky to have a son like him. He’s great.”
You talk about him so kindly. For a second, he can see his Mom in your eyes, and the adoring way she would speak about his dad on the rare occasions she would bring him up. And Percy knows it’s not nice to assume, but… He’s assuming.
Percy doesn’t phrase it like a question when he says, “You like Luke.”
A twig snaps somewhere nearby.
You’re silent for a second. “I — What do you mean?”
Percy doubles down. “You have a crush on him.”
“Alright, Goldilocks,” you say, amused. “I don’t like Luke.”
“Sure.”
“I don’t!” you insist, looking awfully embarrassed for someone who ‘definitely doesn’t like Luke.’
You turn to face the woods, and Percy has no doubt that your face is on fire.
“I thought you guys liked each other.”
“Percy, stop talking.”
“Like when you snuck into the cabin, I thought—”
“Percy,” you snap, your voice low.
“—you were dating. Like Jim and Pam. Or like Rory and Dean.”
You whirl back around, curious. “You’ve seen Gilmore Girls?”
He realizes what he said too late. “My mom made me watch it.”
Your smile disappears under your helmet as you slip it back on. “Good for her. And I’m sorry to leave you here, but I have to go.”
He frowns. “What? Why?” Percy almost doesn’t want you to leave. You’re the first person he’s seen in an hour, and your company isn’t that bad.
“My sister is about fifty feet away, and I’m supposed to be defending my flag that’s halfway across the woods.”
Percy perks up at this. “Annabeth’s back?”
Finally. He isn’t sure what she’d wanted him to do, because he definitely hasn’t done it.
You shove his shield into his hands as you brush past him. “No. Clarisse is.”
The words take a second to register, but once they do, Percy whips around in your direction. He finds nothing but the rustle of the leaves as you make your quick exit.
“Percy Jackson!” a voice booms from the direction of the woods.
He’s screwed.
iii. i once believed love would be (burnin’ red)
Their team won Capture the Flag.
Percy hadn’t done much, other than get claimed by Poseidon and be used as Clarisse bait. Nonetheless, he was enjoying the celebration feast.
Everyone was in high spirits — especially Chris, who had helped lead the team to victory while Percy was being pummeled by three angry Ares kids.
(Yeah, he was trying to not be too bitter about that.)
A group of campers were cheering on Annabeth for her plan that lead them to the big win. (Definitely not still bitter.) The comradery amongst their team was high, and even those that lost didn’t seem too angry about it.
Except for Clarisse and her cronies, of course. They were sitting in a corner, sending him furious looks every once in a while.
Percy made a mental note to ask someone about putting a deadbolt on his cabin door.
The other Ares kids didn’t seem to mind though, wearing any new battle wounds with pride. Percy could see you across the dining pavilion, talking with one of the boys from another cabin.
Luke did not look too happy about that.
Percy had thought he would be soaking up every glorious moment of the dinner, as he was the one who secured the flag for their team. But he had done nothing much other than sulk and push his food around with his fork.
“Who’s that?” Percy asks, once he notices where his angry glare is directed.
Luke is distracted when he responds. “Oh, uh.” He rubs the back of his neck. “That’s Max. Cabin 9. Hephaestus kid.”
Chris laughs as he takes his seat next to Luke, finally hungry after all of his celebrating. “He’s been trying to ask her out for a while now.”
“And he needs to take a hint.” Luke scoffs. “She clearly doesn’t like him.”
The two of you are sharing an orange. Max breaks off pieces for you to have, and Percy watches as you laugh at something he says, covering your smile with the palm of your hand.
The three of them are silent.
Percy’s head tilts. “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” Luke says, his tone steely. “She’s my… She’s my best friend. If she liked Max, she would’ve told me.”
The three of them watch as the boy stands up and you follow suit. Max tosses the rest of the orange into the fire as an offering, and the two of you head away from the celebration.
Percy gives Luke a side glance. If he had eaten anything, it probably would’ve been emptied up onto the table right now.
Luke shakes the table with the force he uses to stand up. “I’ll be back.”
His plate is left abandoned, and Chris snorts at his speedy departure. Luke’s practically jogging across the pavilion to reach you before you get too far. That old goofy cartoon running sound effect plays in Percy’s head as he does.
The boy closes the distance in record timing, stopping you and Max before you can make your way up a small hill just outside of the pavilion.
Luke must be a great liar, or just really convincing, because after a few words from him and an extended hand, you’re back at his side. You say a few parting words to Max before the two of you turn your backs on him and head back in the direction of the feast.
Unfortunately, it seems like Max is significantly unhappy with that.
He looks a little more than angry when he says something that has you and Luke whipping your heads around.
Whatever he said must not have been nice, because the next second, Luke is advancing in his direction, and the other boy is meeting him in the middle.
The small argument is beginning to attract the attention of the campers on the outskirts of the feast, with a few mixed reactions. Some look like they’re ready to jump into a brawl if need be, and others watch the argument play out, unashamed.
Percy grimaces. “Are they… okay?”
Chris gets up wordlessly to head in the direction of his friend, and Percy trails after him with not much else to do. Other campers join them, forming a bit of a crowd around the three of you.
Your voice sounds biting as you say something to the both of them, and while it seems like Max isn’t angry at you, it looks like he still spits out a snarky comment directed at Luke, if the smirk on his face says anything.
And that’s all it takes. Luke rears his arm back and strikes Max right across the face.
Something that sounds like a mix between a gasp and an “Ooh!” ripples through the crowd as he stumbles back.
That’s gotta sting, Percy thinks as Max steadies himself on shaky legs. The boy looks completely dazed from the single blow. If that’s what Luke can do with a single punch… Percy hopes he never gets on his bad side.
You shove Luke’s shoulder and say something to him, starting another disagreement between the two of you. But now steady on his feet, Max seemingly takes advantage of him being distracted and takes his own shot at Luke’s face. Percy sucks in air through his teeth as he rubs his jaw.
Luke’s on him in a second, wrestling him to the ground as he moves to probably hit him again. But you and one of the older campers rush forward to drag him off of Max just as Chiron’s booming voice sounds from the other end of the clearing.
The crowd scatters like a flock of birds. Chris drags Percy by the back of his shirt collar away from the scene, leaving you, Luke, and Max alone.
Everyone disperses back to their cabins, whispering about the events all the way up until the lights go out.
Alone in the Poseidon cabin, Percy doesn’t see the way Luke enters his own a few hours later, his knuckles sore but his heart aching.
iv. but its golden
You don’t look in Luke’s direction during Percy’s selection ceremony.
Once he’s selected Annabeth and Grover, you give him a genuine smile and squeeze his shoulder before walking away as fast as you can.
Luke calls after you, but you ignore him. The other twenty demigods at the ceremony look away in what’s probably second hand embarrassment.
Percy doesn’t see you again until much later. After knocking on his cabin door, you put a wad of cash into his hands.
“What’s this for?”
“Emergency cash,” you explain as he rifles through it. The stack is heavy. “I know Chiron gave you two hundred, but you never know. Use it only for emergencies, alright?”
“This is nearly two hundred dollars,” Percy says, shocked. “Where’d you get this from?”
“Summer job.”
“I can’t—”
“Annabeth already refused to take it from me,” you protest. “I thought you were my best bet.”
“This is a lot of money.” Percy doesn’t think he’s even held this much cash before.
“I know,” you say, before closing his fist around the money again. “But I know I could’ve really used this money on my first quest. So I’m giving it to you for yours.”
Percy was getting the impression that you weren’t going to leave his cabin with this money in your hand.
“Thanks,” he acquiesces with a smile. “Only for emergencies.”
“Only for emergencies,” you confirm, squeezing his shoulder.
“Were you nervous for your first quest?” he asks, tucking the cash into the inner pocket of his jacket.
You shake your head without an ounce of hesitation. “No. But it’s normal to be nervous, if you are.”
Percy thinks about his Mom, all alone in the Underworld. He was doing all of this for her. He was a little more than nervous.
“How were you not worried? Like at all?”
You shrug, picking at a loose thread on your hoodie. “I was with Luke. I didn’t really have anything to be worried about.”
Percy thinks about Annabeth and Grover. Could he rely on them? The Oracle’s words weigh heavy on his shoulders. Percy wished that he had someone he could count on like the way you relied on Luke.
“Are you mad at him?”
“Who said I’m mad at Luke?” You tilt your head in question.
“You ignored him in front of everyone earlier. It was kinda hard to watch.”
You look away, smiling. “Well, he was kind of being stupid last night. I’m not mad, I just needed to cool down.”
There’s shuffling in the doorway, and you don’t have to turn around to know who it is.
“Speak of the devil and he shall appear,” you mumble under your breath. Luke’s holding an old box in his hands, staring straight at the back of your head.
You give Percy one last reassuring smile. “Good luck, Percy. And I know you and Annabeth aren’t all that close, but she’s a good kid. You can count on her.”
“She’s a good kid.” Luke repeats from behind you.
You turn to face him, your gaze assessing, and Luke’s eyes widen in what Percy thinks is slight fear. But it’s like his entire body relaxes when you move forward to flick his shoulder.
“Thank you for your great input, Luke Castellan,” you tease, leaving a quick kiss on the bruise on his lower jaw.
His eyes blow wide with surprise. “Yeah,” he stammers. “Yeah.”
“See you later, hero.”
The door swings shut behind you.
Luke stares blankly for a good ten seconds before Percy speaks.
“So…” he starts. “What’s in the box?”
“Yeah, uh,” Luke repeats, dazed. “It’s a, uh. A gift.”
Percy presses his lips together, slightly miffed.
It’s obvious to him how the two of you feel about each other. He just wonders if either of you will ever figure that out yourselves.
series masterlist
a/n. evil boys i love u. if i ever write more luke fic itll be through one of their povs so their interactions are less restrained!! lmk if u enjoyed theyre my sillies
5K notes · View notes
janovavalen · 2 months
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✧when social media calls so does the questions || walker scobell x fem!reader
summary: after fans have created more and more of a scene with y/n l/n and walker scobell they are asked about it in their first interview together.
warning: friendly reminder the people/faces i use are just for the aesthetic ofc imagine it’s you bc we’re on that level of delulu<3
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as they day went by y/n sat in her hotel room with her dressers, makeup and nail artist all around . this was probably one thing y/n enjoyed about being who she was and doing what she did.
she got to say there while people made her look pretty at the amazing work they did on her. however, though some of the dresses and suits she had to wear were sometimes out of the ordinary or just tight in general, they always made sure to capture her natural color and make her outfits look beautiful on her.
today y/n would be getting interviewed after she got ready—so was aryan, leah and walker of course. she was beyond nervous, exited? but definitely mostly nervous. she hated when she had to sit in front of a camera—well, it came more naturally when she was acting because she wasn’t really being herself.
but when it came to being interviewed, she was half of the time being told what to say, monitored at all times and some other genuine answers were cut out. she guessed it would probably be more dramatic for the audience and the interviewer.
‘miss. l/n, your being called’ one of her managers called out to her as she was just getting her last piece of clothing on.
‘oh—okay!’ she called back. as her stylist got her finished up and ready she smiled and thanked everyone who gave her a huge smile back while they waved her goodbye.
but before she could leave, she obviously had to take some pictures.
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ㆍ୨୧ㆍ
the second y/n stepped out of her hotel room was as if on the sam strike as the rest of her friends. aryan, leah and walker came out of their separate room with their outfits on.
leah wore a beautiful dress and her afro, aryan wore a simple green shirt and black pants and walker wearing a black jacket with dark blue jeans.
‘okay why is it only me and leah going all out for these outfits?’ y/n placed her hands out motioning to the fact the boys were dressed as if they were going out on a casual walk and y/n and leah to the met gala.
‘well…talk to my styalist with that because i can’t give you an answer’ aryan commented with a smile as y/n laughed a bit. holding her phone in her hand along with her purse.
walker had subconsciously found himself waiting for her to walk beside him which didn’t go unnoticed by aryan and leah.
ㆍ୨୧ㆍ
as the group walked outside was then the lights began flashing in a hurry. the dark sky around them already causing enough ruckus to other people trying to sleep in the hotel, y/n and the group has stopped to give the crowd what they want.
their pictures.
as they did y/n and walker stood arm to arm. him holding the back of his hand along the back half of her back.
while they smiled, waved, posed and did some silly things out of habit. they finally seen their car was ready, signaling it was time to go, so they all began to walk.
but as y/n did she had felt her shoe get caught on something causing her to stop for a second, walker behind somehow able to feel her presence stopped immediately and looked down to her shoe.
‘oh—wait i got it it’s okay—‘
‘no wait let me help’ walker pulled back and leaned down on his knee to see her heel was stuck on the vent of the ground outside. once he got it out someone yelled—‘it’s like a real life cinderella story!’ causing the crowed to awh and flash their cameras faster.
y/n placed her hand over her mouth and nervously laughed as did walker who placed his hand back against her back and let it hold there as they walked.
when they got in the car they immediately sighed of relief from the outside media not being able to get as good pictures but still tired of course.
‘i don’t think ill ever get over this—the lights might be the cause of me going blind to be honest’ leah mumbled while holding her head in her hands, enjoying the heat of the car in this time of day which was a bit cold outside.
‘yeah, i think we should i hide all night and only take pictures in the day or something so they don’t use pictures’
‘that just gives me even more the reason to stay home, so i’m going along with that plan’ y/n smiled at aryan who laughed.
as they drove to their destination, they all had to take pictures and of course videos for their spam’s and personal cameras rolls for memory’s.
ㆍ୨୧ㆍ
when they arrived to their interview destination, the four of them sat in their chairs.
leah and y/n sat next to each other. walker and scobell seated next to each other—so the order being leah, y/n, walker, and aryan.
‘okay, are you guys ready?’ the interviewer asked with a warm smile, they all nodded their heads and y/n gave a nervous thumbs up as she smiled making walker laugh.
‘okay, we’re on in—3,2,1–‘
looking a bit over at the camera pointed towards her she started—‘hello my name is racheal james and i am here with—‘
‘leah jeffries’ she smiled
‘y/n l/n’ she nervously twisted with her hands—
‘walker scobell’ who gave a smile and soon—‘aryan simhardi’ who waved to the camera.
‘hi! hello, welcome hope things went well as you got here?’
‘uh yeah—y’know, paparazzi, yelling, lights—it went amazing’ walker looked at the racheal who laughed, y/n smiled a bit while she touched a bit of her face as leah and aryan laughed a bit.
‘as usual, as usual—so! i have been dying to ask, how did you guys all get along when you were casted for percy jackson?’
‘uhm, we did pretty good? i mean i came in a bit late since my character doesn’t show up till episode four so i got a bit more time to pack at home but y’know, i think i get along with them amazingly’
‘yeah—i mean, when we all met y/n she was very warm and an inviting person, every funny and so energetic i just love her presence’ walker told while looking at y/n who warmly smiled and placed her hand over her mouth.
‘okay! the two of them!? i can’t! they always do this! it’s constant—‘ leah pointed at the two as she yelled and laughed making y/n and walker nervously laugh.
‘that’s what i was going to say! is it always like that?’ racheal smiled at them.
‘oh my—yes! all the time. on set, at dinner, hang outs—anywhere!’ aryan commented while y/n shook her head with a eye roll and walked just smiled, his face red.
‘okay but wait—so, as you all know, the comments on instagram are going insane over walker and y/n i wanted to ask how do you two feel about it? is it uncomfortable? is it truth or just fans being fans?’
‘uhm….i wouldn’t call them fans just more of very distant friends and family? but im not uncomfortable with it all all—‘
‘yeah no i’m not either, it’s kinda funny and amusing to see everyone piece things together more than some do in the show’ walker shrugged as y/n laughed.
‘ou? so, are you denying or backing up on the rumors that the famous (c/n) and percy jackson may be lovers outside of percy jackson?’
leah immediately looked at aryan who’s eyes snapped to walker and y/n.
the two of them nervously touched their faces while shrugging—‘i—um?’
‘yeah, so…y’know?’ the lot laughed as they watched the two teens nervously try to figure out what to say.
‘okay! i’m sorry i’m sorry to make you uncomfortable! let’s just move onto the next question yeah?’ she smiled while flipping through papers.
y/n placed her hand over her face and sighed deeply to calm herself as for walker who looked at her with a smile and a red warm face.
ㆍ୨୧ㆍ
about a couple hours later when the interview was done y/n and walker decided to split from the group who had happened to all want to go out to dinner just to hang out.
walker badly wanted to be with y/n but not when she was occupied with the other group, so he pulled her away from the group for a little bit just to talk which y/n didn’t mind in the slightest.
the two of them were standing on the sidewalk as they talked and laughed together.
‘when she asked what was going on in the comments i’m not going to lie i kind of freaked out like i was like—dude what the hell do i say? what do i do?’ walker revealed as he sheepishly moved a bit closer to y/n who did as well.
‘oh my god—same, i was so nervous i didn’t know what i was going to day next to try and recover from that’ she laughed as walker nodded his head in agreement while he placed a small hand on her arm which she didn’t take note of.
after a laugher died down a bit, the two of them stood in a bit of silence as they felt the cold air breeze past them. since y/n wore a outfit that had no jacket, walker had given her his jacket back at the restaurant after seeing cold chills on her arm.
as y/n held her arms with the jacket getting warmer, walker couldn’t held but admire how pretty she looked under the yellow light of the street pole next to them.
‘you looked really pretty’ he smiled as she placed a hand over her mouth to smile widely before placing it back down to her side.
‘thank you…your not too bad yourself’ she teased as he faked a gasp making her laugh. this only prompted him to go after her with his arms around her shoulders as she laughed out loud while he moved their bodies to the side aggressively.
her face being mashed between chest and arm.
‘oh my god! my makeup!’ she cried out with a laugh as he completely ignored her with his own laughter.
once they were done moving he leaned down to give her a kiss on her cheek making the both of them grow warm and red. she smiled deeply while placing her arms around his waist. the two of them embracing each other in the dead of night.
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yourinstagram
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liked by dior.n.goodjohn, leahavajeffries, aryansimhardi , yourmom and others 
yourinstagram if you guys don’t know…i’m literally terrified of doing almost anything thanks to final destination
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dior.n.goodjohn dude imagine the cars just blowing up out of nowhere while you guys were driving it…
↳ yourinstagram I WAS IMAGINING THAT THE WHOLE TIME WHILE WALKER JUST LAUGHED LIKE WHATS FUNNY?
↳ walker.scobell IT WAS FUNNY BC U WERE CRYING 😭!?
↳ yourinstagram that was supposed to stay between us.😒
↳ walker.scobell oh. 
iamcharliebushnell that’s insane you thought that while driving the whole time
↳ leahsavajeffries i would’ve just got off at that point 😭
↳ walker.scobell oh trust she tried but i didn’t let her leave me on there alone after i paid for that
user282 AHHH MORE WALKER AND Y/N CONTENT<33333
user200 they’re hand feeding us at this point bc omg😭
user1011 i literally love them sm—DID YALL SEE THOES PAPARAZZI PICS OF THEN CUDDLED UP OUTSIDE???
↳ yourinstagram PAPARAZZI PICS?
walker.scobell
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liked by yourinstagram, leahsavajeffries, dior.n.goodjohn, aryansimhardi and others
walker.scobell i think y/n enjoys my phone more than her own phone
view all comments
yourinstagram i enjoy your phone bc u have storage 🧍🏽‍♀️
↳ walker.scobell OUUUU so just take all mine? got it got it
↳ yourinstagram DONT ACT FUNNY ON HERE BC U TOLD ME TOO U TOLD ME IT WAS OKAY!?
↳ walker.scobell *gulps*
dior.n.goodjohn LOOK AT MY CHILDRENNNNB OMG
iamcharliebushnell they grow up so fast☹️
↳ walker.scobell why r u guys acting like your nearing your eighties
user111 LOOK AT THEMMMNM OMG GGOGMGMGMGMGM
user1034 they’re cuties
user77 i can’t believe they’re actually together like someone don’t pinch me if this is a dream i don’t wanna wake up from it
↳ yourinstagram awh😭?
↳ walker.scobell okay this is adorable though
walker.scobell
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walker.scobell no comment
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dior.n.goodjohn GET THHHHHHHHHHHH SHHHHH OUT PF HERE OMG
iamcharliebushnell okay but how many times have they hung out without us is the real question
leahsavajeffries alright yall not to much
↳ walker.scobell HUH😭
yourmom i’m so happy you make her happy☺️
↳ walker.scobell awh mrs.l/n
↳ yourinstagram awh mom STOP☹️
yourinstagram that busted up camera ain’t give no promises
↳ walker.scobell that’s what happens when you drop it like thirty times…
user11000 LOOK AT THEM GUYSSSSSS AHHHH
user220 i’m so happy i shipped them the second i saw them on screen together and irl
user1479 the fact they are literally two half’s of a whole is proof soulmates are real
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taglist: @callsignwidow
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prettyboyeddiemunson · 5 months
Text
what’s your favorite scary movie?
summary: porn star eddie is doing a halloween film with his costar, one that involves a certain mask.
pairing: porn star eddie x porn star reader
word count: 5.9k
warnings: being filmed, daddy kink, use of a realistic plastic knife (nothing weird with it, though), unprotected sex, creampies, choking, brief oral sex (m & f receiving), mentions of anal, breast play, anal fingering (f receiving), degradation, rough sex, kinda dubcon
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a/n: im aware halloween is over, but its always Halloween in my mind! also, sorry if anything like this has been done. I just returned to tumblr, and haven’t read many fics here in like 8-9 months.
18+ ONLY. minors do not interact or follow, or you’re getting blocked.
————————————-
Ring! Ring!
The phone next to you was ringing its familiar ringtone, and you looked at it with an eye roll. Unknown number, typical. You were acting the part of someone who didn’t like spam calls, but you hated them just as much in real life, too. You turned your attention back to the TV, ready to forget all about it and delete any voice mail they may leave, when it began to ring again. The same number popped up, and you killed the call. They called again, and again, and after the fifth time, you’d finally had enough.
“What do you want?” you asked irritably.
“y/n,” a deep voice came over the phone. “How nice to catch you.”
“Who is this?” you asked. 
“That doesn’t matter,” he said, and you could hear a grin in his voice. “I was lonely, and thought I would give you a call.”
“Very funny,” you said. “Tell me who you are.”
“What’s the fun of that?” he asked. “Isn’t mystery supposed to be more fun?”
“Is it?” you asked. “You’re probably just someone I know, trying to play some kind of weird joke.”
“Am i?” he asked. “I don’t think I know you at all.”
“Then how did you know my name and my number?” you asked. “Answer me that.”
“Maybe I have my own methods,” he said. “Ever think of that?”
“Ha ha,” you said with an eye roll. You hung up, but the same number called again and you picked up. “Yes?”
“That wasn’t very wise of you,” he said dangerously. “You didn’t even let me ask my questions.”
“They’re probably something really fucking gross,” you said. “I’m not in the mood.”
“Now, now,” he said, tsking. “What do you take me for?”
“A pervert,” you said.
“You’re right,” he said with a dramatic sigh. “But that isn’t why I’m calling you.”
“No?” you asked with a chuckle. “Coulda fooled me.” 
“What’s your favorite scary movie?” he asked, and you could almost hear the grin in his voice.
“What the fuck?” you asked, sitting up on the couch. “What kind of question is that?”
“Are you going to answer it?”
“No, now goodbye–”
“Hang up again, and you’ll regret it.”
The threatening tone of his voice gave you pause. “Who is this?”
“What’s your favorite scary movie?” he asked again.
“Whatever,” you said, and dared to hang up. It didn’t last long until he called again, and you rolled your eyes as you answered. “What?!”
“I’m sorry for disturbing you,” he said. “I just wanted to talk to you.”
“I’m not gonna entertain you,” you said. “You’re a fucking creep.”
“Just answer my question and I’ll leave you alone,” he said.
“Fine,” you said with a sigh. “I really like Psycho, Halloween, Friday the 13th, The Exorcist.”
“I know you like Friday the 13th,” he said, and he laughed evilly on the other end. “I can see that you’re watching it right now.”
You froze, sitting bolt upright. “What did you just say?”
“Never mind that,” he said. “Do you have a boyfriend?”
“No..” you answered automatically, looking around the darkness of your windows for any signs of life. “How do you know what I’m watching…?”
“Just a guess,” he said.
You got up and turned on all the lights, looking around again to see if you could spot someone. “Look, I need to go–”
“Don’t hang up,” he nearly shouted.
“Look, this isn’t funny or cute anymore,” you said. “I’m really uncomfortable, so if you could please–”
“You look really sexy in your pretty lingerie,” he said. “I mean, I think that’s what it is. You’re wearing that pretty pink babydoll with a thong. You like to tease people, y/n? That isn’t very nice.”
“Fuck you, creep,” you said.
“You didn’t ask what my favorite scary movie is,” he said.
“I don’t care!” you cried. “Leave me alone!”
“It’s The Strangers,” he said, and you could swear his voice sounded different now. More echo, closer somehow. “You know, that movie where those people break into that house.”
“I’m–” you began, and your back collided with someone as you backed away. 
You played the part of terrified really well, and you could see the cameraman giving you a thumbs up as you kept the facade. You turned around slowly, shouting in surprise when you came face to face with a man in a mask. He was in all black, and the rest of his mask was black as well, except for the face. It looked like a ghost, its mouth agape in some kind of eternal shock. In his hand was a knife, but you knew it wasn’t a real one. It was plastic that was made to look like the real deal, something the director found at a joke shop for a little bit of nothing. You shrieked and tried to run away, but he grabbed you and held you against his back as he stroked your hair in a near-loving gesture.
“Shh,” he said in your ear, trailing the knife down your arm. “It’s okay. I’m not here to hurt you.”
“Could have fooled me,” you said, feeling yourself already starting to get wet as you felt him hardening against your ass. “Why are you here, then?”
“I was hoping maybe I’d get lucky,” he purred, moving the knife between your breasts as you shivered. “You’re so much hotter up close.”
“And what do YOU look like under that thing?” you asked, your voice conveying the whole “stall him” vibe that the director wanted you to go for. “It’s not really fair that you see me and I can’t see you. If you’re really not gonna hurt me, then why won’t you show me?”
“I’ll show you,” he said, and you could hear the smirk in his voice. “If you do one thing for me.”
“What?” you asked, turning your head so that you could look at him slightly. 
“Show me those pretty, perfect tits,” he said in your ear, running the knife between them again. “Outside of that baby doll.”
“And what would you do for me in return?” you asked, turning around in his grip and looking into that mask. “Let me live?”
“Maybe,” he said, looking you up and down. “But first, I’ll just show you my face if you do. Let’s start there, yeah?”
You smirked at him, lowering the thin straps of the baby doll and biting your lip. “You’re probably some total asshole under there. I mean, who calls random women at nine on a Friday night, stalks them, then breaks into their house?”
“Keep going,” he said, his eyes on your breasts. “Show me.”
“You’re a real pervert, you know that?” you said.
“And look what you’re doing,” he said smugly. “Giving into me.”
“You came here to kill me,” you said. “I know that to be true, but it seems like you changed your mind. Why?”
“Because why would I waste such a good set of tits?” he asked. “And I know that pussy of yours is also perfect.”
You swallowed, but smirked as you pulled the baby doll down. You exposed your breasts to him, and heard him suck in a breath. That wasn’t scripted; it was his genuine reaction. You bit your lip again, smiling as you stood before him. He took the knife and dragged it over one erect nipple, causing you to shiver and moan slightly. That also wasn’t scripted or an act, and you knew that whatever happened from this point onward, it was going to be genuine. Well, aside from the basic acts they wanted you to perform on each other, but the reactions? It would be all you, and him. 
“Like what you see?” you asked, shaking them a bit as he groaned.
“Fuck yes,” he said, his ringed hands coming up to grope them. You moaned a little, head tipping slightly as he massaged them in his hands. “I guess I need to hold up my end of the bargain, too, huh?”
“Mmm hmm,” you said, mewling as he gave your nipples a soft pinch. “Shit…”
He stepped back, and you whined at the loss of contact. He lifted the mask with one hand, revealing his face underneath. You acted as though you were surprised to see just how sexy he really was, and his pierced tongue came out between his lips with a devils-horn gesture at the top of his head. You smiled, moving closer to him and running your hands down his chest as he looked you up and down again. Soon, he was grabbing your head forcefully, and drawing your lips to his in a passionate, hard kiss. It turned sloppy, your hands wandering and his, too, finding purchase on your hips as he squeezed. Your tongue played with his piercing, and you could feel the presence of the cameraman in front of you both as you made out. One hand tangled in his hair, the other palming the big bulge that was forming in the front of his pants. His hands came up, grabbing your breasts hard as you moaned into his mouth. He tugged your lower lip between his teeth, moving away to start kissing down your neck. 
“You feel so big,” you breathed, mewling as his teeth found your sweet spot. “Fuck…”
“You have no idea,” he said, pulling your body to his before grabbing your ass. “I want you so bad.”
“Come on,” you said, taking his hand and leading him into the living room. You pushed him down on the couch, straddling his lap before grinding against his dick. “You know what I want you to do?”
“What?” he panted. 
“Want you to rip this thing off of me,” you said in his ear, tugging the lobe in your teeth. 
“Oh?” he asked, grabbing the back of it and tearing it down the middle. “Like that?”
“Mmm hmm,” you hummed, kissing his neck as he moaned. “And I want you to put the mask back on.”
“Okay,” he said, smirking before his face disappeared beneath the Ghostface mask again. 
“You know what else I want?” you asked, moaning as you continued to glide along his clothed erection.
“Hm?”
“I want that big, thick cock down my throat.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Mmm hmm.”
“Then what are you waiting for?”
You could hear the smirk in his voice, and it would have infuriated you under any other circumstances. Right then, though, you were too turned on to care. You moved from your spot on his lap to slide to your knees, keeping your eyes on him as you did so. You palmed the bulge in his pants again, feeling how hard he was and suppressing a moan. He watched you from beneath the mask, both of his arms stretched along the back of the couch as you pulled his pants down. His breathing picked up a bit as you put your mouth over his cock through his boxers, and soon, you were pulling those down, too. He was exposed to you now, all nine inches of his thick, pierced, flushed erection at your mercy. As per the script, you teased him a little, sucking on his piercing before swirling your tongue around his slit. He mewled, panting as you took the tip in your lips and sucked eagerly. His arms remained on the back of the couch, not moving yet as you started planting messy, noisy, open mouthed kisses all over the entire length of his cock. You moved farther down to take his big balls into your mouth as well, sucking on them with a moan as you jerked him off skillfully. He was panting a little more heavily now, and you traced his large vein with your tongue as you made your way back up his length.
“Don’t fucking tease me,” he growled.
“Sorry, uh…” you said. “I don’t know what to call you.”
“You can call me Daddy,” he said, reaching down with one hand to stroke your cheek. “And what shall I call you, huh?”
“Anything you want,” you said with a wink, spitting on his cock and jerking him off. “Such a big dick, fuck.” 
“What did I say about teasing?” he asked, tilting your chin up with the knife.
“Sorry, Daddy,” you said, opening your mouth and taking his entire cock.
You gagged for a moment until you got your reflex under control, which was something you’d gotten good at in the business. You could feel him in your throat, stretching, his piercing at the back of it as you drug your head up, then back down. He was moaning above you under the mask, his head tipped back as he tangled a hand in your hair. You looked up at him, bobbing your head slowly as you gripped his base in one hand. You began to jerk him off in time with your movements, ignoring the camera man as he came around to get some close up shots. It felt as if he wasn’t even there, that’s how into it you were starting to get. You could feel your pussy throbbing, wetness settling in the thong you still wore as you sucked him off.
“Fuck, baby,” he moaned, tugging on your hair as you hollowed your cheeks. “You’re so fucking good at that. You’re a filthy little cock slut, aren’t you? I mean, who else just gets on her knees for a man she’s just met, especially one who broke into her house to hurt her?”
You responded by twisting your wrist, eyes still on him as you sucked him off messily. Drool cascaded from his dick and onto the floor below, and your throat was starting to hurt a bit from his piercing. But he was so hot, THIS was so hot, and you couldn’t bring yourself to stop. His hips bucked upward with a loud moan, and you choked as more of his cock went down your throat again. He stroked your cheek tenderly, before yanking you off of his dick. Spit bridged your lips to the tip, and you looked up at him in surprise. Was this scripted? You couldn’t quite remember, but either way, it sent a fresh wave of arousal to your cunt.
“Rub my dick across your tits,” he said. 
“Those are one of my biggest insecurities,” you replied, but did as he asked as he moaned filthily. “But you like them, huh?”
“Fuck yes,” he panted, watching as you sucked his tip again. “You’re so hot.”
“Thanks,” you said, and you continued to alternate between rubbing his dick over your breasts and sucking him off. After a little while, he forced you to stop by grabbing your jaw. “What’s wrong?”
“You’re gonna make me cum if you keep that up,” he growled. “Did I say I was ready to cum yet?”
“No, Daddy,” you said, reaching out to jerk him off. “But I can’t stop worshipping this huge, perfect dick of yours.”
He grabbed your wrist and pinned it to the couch, causing you to whine. “Let me make you feel good.”
“You already did,” he said, grabbing your spit-soaked chin in one hand and forcing you to look up into his mask. “Now, it’s my turn.”
“What do you mean?” you asked, trying to take him into your mouth again, but you were greeted by a light slap to your cheek. “What?”
“I said stop it,” he said, pushing you away as he got up off the couch. “Sit up here for me.”
You whined, but did as he said. You sat down on the couch, watching as he lifted the mask again. He kissed you hungrily, sloppily, one ringed hand squeezing your jaw before it found your throat. He choked you for a moment, and you moaned as his hands found your breasts. He massaged them skillfully, his rings cold against your heated skin, his fingers rubbing your nipples until they were hard buds. He pinched them, tugged on them, swiped his fingers across them, all while you moaned hotly in his mouth. He grabbed his plastic knife, running it over & between your breasts before dragging it over your waist and stomach. 
“I’m going to show you just what I’m capable of,” he said, kissing down your neck after leaving a series of hickeys in his wake. He nipped at your collarbones, before he found your breasts. “You have the hottest body I’ve ever fucking seen.”
“All the other girls you broke in on weren’t as hot, huh?” you asked.
“Not even close,” he said, pulling one of your nipples in his mouth and sucking generously. “Such an amazing set of tits.”
“Fuck…” you whined, one hand in his hair as he tugged your nipple in his teeth. You knew the cameraman was probably getting a pretty good shot with that; Eddie was skilled, he knew what he was doing and how to work a woman’s body. You were reacting to him, wetness pooling in your thong, and you spread your legs for him as you grabbed one of his hands. “I want you to touch me. Please, I need it.”
“So needy, princess,” he said, giving your other nipple the same treatment as the last. He drug the knife down, running it over your cunt as he smirked. “I’ll bet you’re soaking wet for me, aren’t you? You’re such a depraved fucking slut, you know that? Putting out for me like this, soaking that pretty thong for me.”
“Touch me the right way and find out, asshole,” you challenged, and you could feel him grinning against your breast. “What’s so funny?”
“Nothing,” he said, smiling up at you as he started to kiss his way down your stomach. They weren’t gentle, tender kisses; they were needy, hard, bruising. You knew you’d have some marks there tomorrow. “Just that you think it’s so funny and cute to be calling me names right now, when I’ve got the upper hand.” 
“Who says you’ve got the upper hand?” you asked, and he slapped your thigh hard as you yelped. “You didn’t have to do that!”
“Shut up,” he snarled, kneeling in front of you and spreading your legs as wide as they would go. He peeled off your thong, and the cameraman moved behind him to get a shot of your pussy. “Fuck, look at that. So fucking pretty and so goddamn wet.”
“I can’t help it,” you said, shivering as he ran the knife over your bare cunt. “Daddy…”
“I’m going to make you fucking scream, baby,” he said, and he immediately began to devour you.
You had never been eaten out like that before, either off camera or on. The way his pierced tongue moved through your cunt, so skillful and hungry, had you moaning loudly. You usually had to fake your moans, or at the very least, over exaggerate them. Not now; right now, every single noise that fell from your lips was genuine. He was devouring you, his tongue flicking your clit with every drag upward, his hands gripping your thighs tight enough to leave more bruises. You reached down to grab his hair, and he moaned as you pulled it roughly. His piercing dragged through your saturated folds, slowly and teasingly, before he pressed it tightly against your clit. More wetness soaked his face, and his fingers soon joined the mix. The cameraman was getting some great shots, and Eddie began to fuck you roughly on his fingers while his mouth did its magic.
“Fuck, you’re so good,” you gasped, rutting against his face as you clenched around his fingers. “I need more.”
“More?” he asked, his free hand dragging the knife over your thigh. “How much more? I’m giving you all I can, you greedy whore.”
“I want more,” you insisted, your eyes nearly rolling back as he started sucking on your clit. “Please…”
“Is this what you want?” he asked, gathering some of your wetness on the fingers of his free hand and pushing a finger inside of your ass. “Huh?”
“Yes,” you gasped, looking down into his big brown eyes as he started to eat your pussy again. “Fuck, please…”
He took his fingers out of your cunt, instead focusing on your ass. He shook his head back & forth rapidly, growling, his eyes still trained on your face. You kept looking down at him, playing with your breasts as his tongue swirled your clit. You tugged your nipples, and soon he was slapping your hand away with his free one to take over. He squeezed it, massaging it, pinching the nipple as hard as he could. You cried out, and you could feel the familiar sensation in your lower stomach that indicated an orgasm was imminent. He kept going, lapping at your pussy as if his life depended on it, shaking his head occasionally, using his piercing to his advantage. He began to fuck you on his tongue as he fingered your ass, moaning as more of your taste flooded his tongue.
“So fucking good,” he mumbled, moaning as he reached down to jerk himself off. “I’m going to fucking cum just from eating your pussy.”
“I’d rather you cum inside of me,” you said. “I wanna feel that big dick in my tight, wet pussy right now. Wanna feel you pumping me full of cum, and feel how good you are inside of me. Please.”
“You’d rather cum around my dick?” he asked, raising a brow at you.
“Mmm hmm,” you said. “But you gotta put the mask back on.”
“Tired of my face already?” he teased, pulling his finger out and putting the mask back on. “Alright, have it your way. How do you want me to fuck you?”
“From behind,” you said.
“Just like a disgusting fucking whore, huh?” he asked, slapping your ass as you stood up. “I’m going to make you feel so fucking good, baby.”
“Then do it,” you said. “Stop talking about it and just do it already, asshole.”
He slapped your ass hard, leaving a large red handprint in his wake. You yelped but giggled, wiggling your ass toward him as he spanked it again. He held the knife to your throat, pulling you up by your head as his mouth found your ear. You could feel his giant cock throbbing against your ass, and knew he was close already. But if everything you heard about his reputation was true, you knew that didn’t mean anything. He could apparently hold off for quite awhile, even that close, and you were looking forward to having him inside of you. In fact, you needed it more than you ever needed anything. You were tired of doing films with men who had average or below average dicks; they didn’t do anything for you, and you always had to fake it. But with Eddie? You highly doubted you would have that problem.
“Keep calling me that and I’ll slit your fucking throat,” he said in your ear, pressing the hard plastic a little more firmly to your throat. “You’re in no position right now to be a fucking bitch.”
“I think I am,” you said, grinning smugly at him as you pushed back against his cock. “You’ve got me right where you want me, right? So, instead of making empty threats and being a douchebag, why don’t you just fuck me?”
He slapped your ass hard again, dragging the knife across your throat ever so gently. “You’re fucking lucky I think you’re so hot. Otherwise, I would be ending this right fucking now by cutting you wide open.”
“Fuck me already!” you said. “You’re–”
You were cut off by a loud moan as you felt him pushing inside of you. You cried out as his thick length stretched your pussy, and you could feel his piercing deep inside. He held onto your hips to anchor himself, bending you over the couch as he pushed himself deeper. You nearly screamed as you felt that piercing on your cervix, but it hurt so good. You reached down and squeezed his hand, and you could tell that he was trying hard not to break character to hold your hand. He had to know how it felt, and you could tell that he was holding back, even still. The director seemed not to notice, though; he just instructed his cameraman to get a shot of his cock buried deep inside of your pussy. He was almost fully inside, and it took you a minute to adjust to how it felt. Never had you been this full, never had anything felt so good, and you weren’t sure how long YOU would be able to last. He was moaning behind you, and you felt his dick twitch. That caused you to moan filthily, and you looked behind your shoulder into his masked face, a smirk on your own.
“What are you waiting for, Daddy?” you asked, biting your lip. “Fuck me.”
He started to thrust, keeping them slow and shallow at first. The cameraman looked up questioningly, and the director simply shrugged and instructed him to keep filming. You moaned, feeling that piercing against your cervix again with every movement inward. He kept hold of your hips, and soon, he was fucking you a little harder. You knew that he was making sure you were okay first, something that he seemingly didn’t do with any of his other costars. Maybe he found a soft spot for you, or maybe the rest of them were used to taking dicks his size. Either way, you thought the gesture of going off script was rather touching, and you looked back at him with a smile. You couldn’t tell if he was reciprocating, but the sharp thrust inside of you somehow told you that he was.
“You’re so fucking tight and wet,” he said, starting to absolutely DRILL you as you nearly screamed. “Listen to that, can you hear it?”
You could. As he fucked into you harder, you could hear just how wet you truly were for him. His fingers dug into your skin, his breath in your ear, and you just moaned as you clenched hard around him. That caused him to groan, and you smirked as you did it again. This brought another loud crack to your ass, and you yelped as the knife made another appearance at your throat.
“Stop doing that,” he growled. “You needy bitch.”
“Sorry,” you said, but did it again.
He stopped thrusting, putting the knife down to grab your throat with his hands. He choked you for a moment, chuckling darkly as you kept clenching around him. He began to move again but kept his grip, letting go only when you started clawing at his hands. He reached around to grope your breasts, rubbing the nipples as he absolutely pounded you against the couch. He was panting and groaning, the sounds filling the air as the cameraman got another shot of him fucking into you. You could feel your lower stomach tightening, but you weren’t ready for this to be over yet. Fuck, he felt so goddamn good; you never wanted it to end. You would have been content going on forever just like this, with him inside of you as you whined desperately. He knew you were getting desperate, too; he reached down, rubbing your clit in hard, fast circles as you cried out. You clenched again, his hands now on your shoulders as you braced against the couch. He drilled your needy, soaking cunt, each bump to your cervix causing you to moan even louder.
“Cum for me,” he said. “Show me just how much you fucking love what I’m doing to you. Show me what a greedy whore you are for my cock.”
You moaned, and were shocked to see that he was pulling out of you. The director was about to intervene, but Eddie was pushing you onto your back on the couch. He lifted your legs to his shoulders and pushed inside of you again, causing you to moan hotly as he filled you up again. The director stopped and instructed the cameraman to keep going, and you looked up into his masked face with a look of pleasure on yours. You arched under him, writhing, your hands finding his clothed back and digging your nails into the fabric. He pounded you hard, the new angle causing him to hit into your sweet spot. He didn’t use his entire cock this time; instead, he decided to get creative, and fucked directly into your G-spot. The feel of the piercing against it was so fucking good, and you tore at his dark shirt as he pounded against you.
“That’s it,” he cooed, the strokes of his cock remaining shallow and deep as your mouth fell slack. “Cum around my cock, princess.”
“Fuck,” you whined, your jaw still open as your head tipped back. “I’m gonna cum so hard, Daddy.”
“Cum for me,” he coaxed, his fingers rubbing hard circles on your clit again. “Do it for me. Show me how desperate you are to let some stranger fuck you like this.”
Tears began to leak out of your eyes. They weren’t bad; it was just so much, so overwhelming. You could tell that he was having doubts, so you sat up slightly to bury your face in his neck. He groaned, thrusting harder before pushing you back down. He pinned you to the couch, both of his large hands holding you down as he mercilessly pounded you. More tears leaked from your eyes, and he laughed wickedly under the mask.
“What’s wrong?” he taunted. “Is my dick too big for you, you disgusting slut? Can’t take it all?”
“No, i can,” you said, trying to get out of his grip. 
“Then take it and cum for me,” he coaxed, fucking you as hard as he could. “Go ahead, show me you can do it.”
It didn’t take much more for you to cum. A few more strokes of his cock, a few more swipes with his fingers, and that was it. You screamed in pleasure, and none of that was exaggerated or fake, either. You squirted around him twice, and the director was staring in awe as the cameraman caught everything. You kept arching, moaning, bucking up against him as he continued to pound into you. He was panting above you under the mask, moaning as you felt him twitch inside of you. He was fighting hard to keep going, but you knew he was going to lose that fight very soon. You reached down and took his knife, holding it up with a smirk.
“You wanna hold this to my throat again?” you asked. “Maybe that would get you off.”
He took it and did just that, holding it on your throat as he pounded you. You moaned, clenching around him, bucking your hips up against his thrusts to aid him. He looked down at your breasts, then back to where the knife was held to your throat, and you felt him twitch twice. You knew it was coming and, sure enough, it did a moment later. He came hard inside of you, moaning through it, his head bowed as he allowed his orgasm to take him over. He continued to thrust until it was done, stopping and nearly collapsing on top of you before pulling out. But he wasn’t finished, and you already knew what was coming because of the script. He pulled you to a sitting position and opened your legs, eyeing your dripping cunt as he rubbed the knife between both of his hands. 
“Look at that,” he said, running his fingers through your sensitive pussy before he knelt in front of you. “I made such a mess of you, didn’t I?”
“Mmm hmm,” you said, moaning as he lifted his mask. “What are you gonna do about it?”
“I think you know,” he said, dragging the knife over your thigh again before he started eating you out once more. “I’m nowhere close to being fucking done with you, you fucking slut. If you think that I am, then you’d better think again.”
“So much for scary movies, huh?” you asked, moaning as he began to devour your pussy even more desperately. 
“I think this is much better,” he said, eating you out more feverishly. “You know what we should try? You know, since you’re such a filthy girl.”
“What?” you asked, moaning as he fucked you on his tongue.
“Giving it to you up the ass,” he said. “I think that would be fun, don’t you agree?”
“And cut!” the director called.
You whined as Eddie broke away from you, standing up as he helped you. The director was coming onto the set to talk to the cameraman, both of them seemingly pleased with what they’d gotten. Eddie sat the mask and the knife down on the couch, grabbing a water as someone on set offered one. He handed it to you, and you accepted it with a big smile. You took a drink, and Eddie’s hand was on your shoulder in a comforting gesture. He pulled his pants back up and gestured for someone to bring over your clothes. You slipped them on once they did, and Eddie wrapped your jacket around your shoulders for you with a smile. 
“Are you okay?” he asked. “I mean, I didn’t hurt you or anything, did I? I tried to be as careful–”
“No, I’m okay,” you assured him. “Really. I just wasn’t used to someone that big.”
“A lot of the women aren’t,” he said with an apologetic grin. “I always ask them to let me go in slow and careful, but they never really let me. I guess they don’t want to shatter the illusion. It’s just…you were crying, and i was so scared that i was hurting you.”
“Well, I can promise you that I’m totally fine,” you said, taking another sip of the water. “Do you think we did well enough for them?”
“Oh, I think we did,” he said with a chuckle. 
“Something tells me they’ll be asking us to do another one together very soon,” you said. 
“In that case,” he said, smiling as he leaned closer to you and offered an arm. “How about I buy you dinner? I know I’ve worked up a hell of an appetite tonight.”
You grinned, taking his arm with a nod. “Yeah, I’d like that a lot.”
____________
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halcyone-of-the-sea · 6 months
Text
Black Metal and Bourbon (I)
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AU MASTERLIST || PART II
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PAIRING: Biker/Mechanic!Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Bartender!Reader
WORDCOUNT: 8.1k
WARNINGS: Alcohol consumption, drug usage, mentions of sex & intimacy, dark jokes/dirty jokes, rumors, gossip, past toxic relationship, a shitty Ex, protective!Simon, etc. (18+ mini-series)
*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*
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You slapped the damp rag back into the bar top, the fabric heavy with spilled alcohol and other fluids that you didn’t even want to try and think about. 
“Jesus.” Your muscles ache, neck stiff from having to try and slap a dart from the ceiling where some jackass had been too drunk to attempt and hit the target. The thing was still up there, as you weren’t about to spend your entire night fruitlessly attempting to fix someone else's blurry mistakes. 
You glare over your shoulder, seeing the unconscious form of the man in question being dragged out by his friends presently, his slurring chuckles making him sound like a drowning elephant. Intoxicated yells of goodbye attached to your name make you roll your eyes slowly as they begin being said; you push through the waist-height door to allow you behind the front counter. Your middle finger flips the patrons off before boisterous flirting hits the air.
“C’mon baby, don’t be like that—!” Is cut off by the slam of the front doors and you couldn’t be more happy that your boss hadn’t gotten the bolts tightened. 
“Don’t get paid enough…” You grumble, eyes slithering over to the tip jar and seeing the overflow of bills and coins as your fingers wrap the neck of a bottle of Vodka. 
The profit would be split with your coworker even if she’d been gone for more than half a night getting railed by her new boy toy. You can still remember the look she’d given you as she’d walked out during rush hour, her sharp smirk and smug sheen of ‘you won’t say anything, will you?’
Grumbling under your breath, you slip the Vodka back into its slot on the wall racks, while telling yourself you can’t drink on the job; trying to forget the face of the man that had been attached to hers before they’d stumbled to the back alley.  
“Graham Whitaker, you’re such a five-cent sell-out,” you shake your head, sighing heavily into the air that smells like booze and sweat. 
Graham Whitaker—your Ex in every sense. 
You decided to tell your coworker, if she ever showed back up, that the only reason she was getting dicked-down was because it was that man’s plan to try and make you jealous. As if you’d be caught with your pants down over a prick that had cheated on you more times than you could count before you threw his ass out. 
“Not my problem anymore,” your hands move to display themselves in a motion of a settled disagreement before wiping them on your black pants. 
It was late now, of course, with the dart-drunk and his friends being the last patrons that you had to serve. But you’d been in this town a long, long time. 
Sorrel the construction worker came in an hour, Miss Anna-Lee accompanying for her nightly Gin and Tonic before she talked about her late love from the seventies. From there it was three more regulars before closing activities and fighting to get up tomorrow by noon only to do it all over again. 
Over and over and over. 
You lean back on the counter and look across the brown wood and warm overhead lights, behind you, the illumination from the drink rack gives off a dead glow. 
This was your workplace since you'd been of age, and over the years that seemed to drag, here is where you’d stayed. Nothing ever changed in this town—the biggest shock was when you’d broken up with Graham; people hadn’t stopped talking about it for months.
This place was like a prison of slow death and abandoned dreams. Safe to say this was not what you had envisioned for yourself.
You scoff, pushing off the back counter and snatching your rag back up before you can spiral once more.
The stains weren’t going to buff themselves out.
Maybe it was chance that the mechanics shop across the street had shut down, too few employees and too many drug busts. Chance, or fate, whichever it was you chose to believe in that still-air Sunday, it was still a shock to you when you looked out the front window as Sorrel called goodnight through his heavy accent. 
‘SOLD’
“Sold?” Sorrel pauses with one foot out of the door, and he chuckles when he sees where you’re looking in shock, your hand holding a dirty glass. 
“Haven’t heard, then? Few newcomers snuck in under our noses—they’ll be running the place; mechanics!” 
“New?” You laugh. “Who in their right mind would come here of all places?” 
Sorrel shakes his head, grumbling as he pulls a cigarette from his pocket. “You’ll just have to meet ‘em, Doll. Sure you’ll leave a glowing impression.”
“Take that shit outside, you ass. You know I hate the smell.” A smirk graces your dead eyes. 
“Like I said. Glowing.” You glare, but the man slips out of the door quickly and his form passes by the window outside to climb into his truck parked in the street. Two honks from the horn and the older man is off, grizzly-like beard gone just like your boredness. 
New arrivals? 
You blink at the blackened shadows of the street, illuminated by the lights and their tall tree-like bases—the sway of the planted bushes in the boxes outside. Your head tilts at the abyssal building that was once in working order. 
It was a shitshow now, years of abandonment not giving it any helping hand regarding upkeep. The concrete was cracked, the garage door was hanging off of one side, and the front windows had been broken by your Ex’s buddies when they had gotten into a fight like the three-year-olds they were. 
You hum lowly. A hard-chucked set of keys, you recalled. You’d seen it from here easily enough. Hadn't lied to Sheriff Russel when he’d come knocking, and, you suppose, that was why even now the immature posse still tried to scare you by following you home at night to this day.
As if everyone didn’t know where everyone else lived already. 
But back to the current interest for the night. 
“Let’s have a little look-see, then,” you breathe, knowing Miss Anna-Lee would be a good while away like always. You could chance five minutes—it was just across the street after all. 
Shuffling outside, making sure to hold the door until it closes slowly, you step down the single step and stick your hands into your pockets. The night wasn’t hot or cold, simply there like a metaphorical cut on your palm; it wasn’t surprising the more you lived with it, but it still made your skin itch. 
Feet padding, you cross the dead street and take in the long stretch of unkempt grass, stepping onto the broken curb as your shoes crunch broken glass. Long-gone cigarette butts are scattered here and there, the occasional stray bit of metal or trash. Your eyes shift slowly from one brick that makes up the frame to another, the peeling blue color that could use touching up. 
The mural you had painted in middle school had faded a long time ago, just like the great expectations of going into an art career. The eyes of a great gray wolf are only a dark outline that you can’t help but stare at as if a cancer was growing in your brain, hidden behind the reach of green ivy. 
Ripping your eyes away, you ignore the cry of tires from across the town and the pop of an exhaust pipe—the roar of either a car chase by the repeat offender Irene Chaney, or by some stupid kid related to Irene Chaney. 
“She’s gonna wreck one of these days,” you breathe, looking down at your object of intention—the sold sign in all of its red and white glory. 
Your hand snakes out and grabs the cheap plastic, stopping its swaying with a creak and a tilt of your head. 
You just couldn’t understand it—who in their right mind would buy this place? The only thing it would be good as is rubble, at least then some rabbit could make its very dusty home here. 
Sorrel had mentioned multiple people too. 
“Must be up at the B&B then,” your voice carries over the space, the stars twinkling above you as a shadow stands at the end of the cracked driveway. Its hands are in its pockets, tall form bulky with the dark brown leather jacket around its intimidating form. You’re none the wiser, letting the sign drop as you put your hands to your hips. “They better not be fuckin’ dickheads—”
“Mind explainin’ to me why I came to get a drink and now I’m talkin’ to some Bird on my property?” 
You startle, gasp peeling out of your lips as your head swivels as if attached to a string which, in turn, tracks back to the source of a heavy Manchester accent. Grass breaks under your feet, as the gravel of the tone makes you cringe. Your eyes lock on the man who looks like he just came back from a warzone. 
The first thing you noticed was the balaclava and the skeleton detailing, of course, how could you not—the lower half was an inch below those October eyes of the deepest shade of brown you’d ever witnessed. 
Your spine straightens in cautious surprise, hiding the way your hands had clenched as if ready to swing on your Ex if he so happened to be there instead of…this person. 
“Excuse me?” You say, quickly, as if it was forced out instead of a scream. Your face pushes that stern expression back to your face as your throat clears out the hoarseness.
A covered head tilts with its small sliver of pale flesh visible to you—the strong bones of his nose bridge and hidden jawline. The bulk of large muscles and thighs spoke to hard labor, and his booted feet shifted below loose black cargo pants. 
The mask alone caused you a hint of worry in those few seconds of fast study of this phantom’s anatomy. 
He blinks at you slowly, raising the small corner of a dark brow from a respectable distance away.
“Said you’re trespassing, yeah?” Your face gains a sheen of heat, and you glance at your bar behind the stranger, at the bright burn of the lights. 
Taking a stiff breath, your lips pull into a frown as you try to hide your embarrassment.
“Well…a holler would have been just fine.” A fake glare is put on. “What’s with sneaking up on a woman in the middle of the night? Are you some creep or something?”
Those dark eyes stay locked on yours, and for a moment you don’t know if you’ve encountered a statue or not because he doesn’t speak for a moment. 
A puff of breath from his nose. 
“You the bartender, then?” You motion to your nametag above your left breast and grunt. His gaze homes in before he simply says, “Good.”
Without another word, the man turns stiffly before he steadily begins making his way back to the bar; crossing the street with a swift check of the road. You watch him saunter off, jaw slackened and your cheeks hot. The span of his shoulder blades levels out as he rolls his shoulders. 
Where did this guy even come from? The answer was simple, the bed and breakfast was only four buildings down and to the left. Guy must have come in for a late-night serenade with a bottle.
A quick glance is thrown back to the rundown property behind you before you growl and hurry after this individual who currently pushes open the faulty doors of your work. Jogging across the asphalt, you catch the thing right before it closes and slip inside with a puff of air and a shoved-down snap of a sarcastic ‘thanks’. 
Yet, the man is already pulling back one of the bar stools and easing into it when you make it behind the counter. You study him yet again. 
“You’re one of the new mechanics?” Brown-Eyes blinks at you. 
Without missing a beat, he goes, “Bourbon—Kentucky.”
“I asked a question,” you cross your arms, not even for a moment looking away as the silence of the bar sneaks in around you and this strange creature. “Least you can do for a lady is answer it when you act like a damn cat and sneak up on her.”
“You were on my property.” This is leveled out through a grunt, and after a moment of staring, you scoff. 
“I was curious about who had bought such a piece of junk. Guess I have my answer.” Your hand grabs the bottle of Kentucky Bourbon, the amber liquid inside sloshing as you turn back and put it into the wood. There’s a fraction of a dead tease that makes the man seem more human than he looks.
“Well, aren't you a ray of sunshine?”
“I prefer a solar flair.” You comment dryly and set an engraved glass next to the bottle. Something flickers past the mechanic’s eyes, a quirk to the fabric of his balaclava. 
“On The Rocks or Neat?” Your brow raises and you tilt your head. 
“That even a bloody question? Neat.” You snort, splaying your hands before you grab the bottle as he watches you blankly. 
“Sorry, it's kind of my job to ask.” Your hand shifts and you pour a reasonable amount into the glass, knowing exactly when to stop. As you shift the bottle away, you leave it on the bar top and gently push the beverage to him as his gloved fingers take it up. You repress a small smile at the matching bone gloves to go with the detailing on his balaclava.
“Bartenders always have this much attitude?” The glass is kept in front of his person, carefully held in his large grip. 
Moving back, you go to lean on the back counter. This night was quickly taking an interesting turn. “Only if they’re me.” You sigh. “You have a name, then, Brown-Eyes?” 
The individual snorts at the title, but his eyes narrow on you at the same time as if he was held hesitant at the ability for you to make him. He had an air of casual tension around him, like a dog on a thin leash that can only just manage to meet others and stay his fangs. 
Danger, you pinpoint. The man felt like danger. A riptide; surface tension.
Then why was it that you felt more and more intrigued by the second?
“Simon Riley,” he eases, staring with those numb eyes of his before he tips the glass slightly your way. With the thumb on the same hand that holds the bourbon, he hooks it under his face covering and pulls it up until he can connect the glass to his lips and take down a sip as his Adam’s apple bobs in a swallow. 
On the way back, his thumb drags the fabric back to its previous position as if nothing had happened. The image of pale skin and stubble sticks with you, and your eyes shift away quickly without you realizing it as the glass is returned to the counter. 
“Well, Simon Riley,” you mutter, “welcome to nowhere.”
The man hums, eyes looking you over in a single glance before the gaze shifts to the wall behind your head. He says nothing, and the door opens to the next three familiar customers as you move to take their order. As you slip out from behind the barrier, you grumble under your breath before you slip past Simon to the corner booth. 
“For the record, Riley, I do enjoy seein’ that old place getting taken on. Don’t run it into the ground, would you? And if you need a fresh coat of paint, for the love of all things holy, don’t go down to the Schafersons’ place, you come right to me.” 
Walking casually, you greet the three ladies from the downtown library with a smirk and an easy comment about if their husbands knew they were out so late, to which you promptly got cursed out on good faith. Sharing a few chuckles, you get them started on what they need, all the while feeling those brown orbs now following subtly from the side of their sockets, intrigued. 
Simon wasn’t sure what to make of you, and the same could be said about this town as a whole. A woman with such a future trapped behind her eyes, adventure in her blood, why were you here in a place with nothing promised for it except dying businesses and old faces? This was a place where people came to hang up the coat, not try and rip it off of its peg. 
The children born here with ambitions leave, that was the common denominator. Even Simon could see that. But you? Here you were. 
The man peels his eyes away, taking up his glass again and re-hooking his thumb to his mask. Amber liquid seeps into his mouth, pulling the scars on his lips and cheeks as he swallows it down as easily as water. The bourbon pools in his stomach, sending its honied effects to the back of his mind; it would take much more to get drunk, but that wasn’t what Simon was looking for. 
Perhaps he was just out tonight wondering why he’d left the military for a mechanic’s job and come out here—asking anything for a sign that this was the right decision even as his head echoed with the screams and the gunfire. 
And then he’d seen you standing in front of the fuckin’ worst mechanics shop he’d ever seen that he’d signed the property deed for not three hours ago. Hell, he hadn’t even looked at the place before buying it—Price was responsible for the official financial actions, and the man had made him swear that it was worth it.
But fuck, he’d just needed a way out of the city. Too loud, too unpredictable in that previous shop of theirs right by the busy street. MacTavish and Garrick had been easy to convince; they’d all served together before and had no family over here either. 
A new start thousands upon thousands of miles away. 
Your head pulls up from where you chat with the librarians, hearing the slam of the door as the draft wafts in from outside—a small breeze has picked up. 
Inside walks in your very ruffled, and very well-pleased, coworker, Celina Bell. 
She brushes down her top and black skirt, blinking around with blown pupils until her eyes lock on you. A poisonous smile meets your eyes as you raise a brow slowly—Lord, if this girl didn’t realize that fucking your Ex over some workplace squabble wasn’t something to be proud of, she was really a lost cause. 
Simon only glances over his shoulder before turning back around and tapping his fingers against his glass absentmindedly. 
“You alright?” You ask out of due diligence, sparing the ladies an apology look for them being interrupted. 
“Better than alright,” Celina chuckles, walking over with a limp in her step. “Just scored Graham Whitaker.” She fake pauses, blinking as if in realization that a child would know was taking the piss. Your face is stuck in the expression of boredom. “Wait…you two were involved for a few years, right? Oh, I’m really sorry—I had no clue.”
“Yeah,” you look her up and down and blink at the disheveledness. “Sure. Quite the score.” A pause, her lips pulling back into that smug smirk that reminds you of a weasel. Yet your next words leave her face devoid of blood. “You know he got Chlamydia from Stacy Green a week ago, right?”
A pin could be heard dropping. Brown eyes are firmly stuck to the scene, unsure what to make of it. The ladies stifle their laughter.
“...W-what?”
“Y’know,” you motion a hand to her lower body, walking past her back to the bar. “STD. Chlamydia. Results in—”
“I know what the fuck an STD is, you bitch.”
“Woah,” you whistle, “language.” Your body returns to the counter as loud stuttering is left behind you, the frantic patting of a pocket to look for a phone before enraged feet rush to the exit. “Need a refill, Riley?”
“It can wait,” Simon utters slowly. The door slams shut.
You chuckle, shrugging. “Alright, suit yourself.” 
The man takes the names you drop and files them away, slotting them into his mental database for when he needs to work with these people. Yet, there’s already a sour impression just off of comments alone. Who better to get your news from than a bartender? 
You know everyone's dirty little secrets.
You diligently serve the drinks to the librarians, placing them down carefully before Simon once more has a re-filled glass of his drink. He moves it slightly up in a cheer and gives you a stare as you wipe your hands with a clean rag.
“Seems you know everything ‘round ‘ere.” His accent is what draws you in, and you find yourself eager to hear more from him. 
“I’m easy to talk to,” you respond, shrugging and leaning on the counter a foot or two away as you both watch the other. A smirk overtakes your features. “And I am the one that gives people the drinks.”
“So, what I’m hearing,” Simon raises a brow. “Is that you get ‘em dunker than a man on his execution date.” 
You click your tongue, tilting your head in a teasing manner while maintaining a serious face. 
“Afraid you’ll spill your secrets, Riley?” 
His eyes flash at you, and his lips flicker into a smirk you can hear in his voice. 
“It’ll take more than two glasses of Bourbon to get me talking, Sunshine.” 
Your face shifts away, but the sudden fight with a smile leaves you nearly breathless. 
Who is this man?
“Why are you here,” your question meets his ears as he takes back the last of his drink, stomach filled for the night and his searching, for the moment, abated. 
The glass meets the bar top. 
He grunts. “Needed a drink.”
Your lips pull in annoyance. “You know what I mean. You’re terrible at answering questions.”
“Hm, maybe.”
“Fuck off,” you grumble, shaking your head as a low chuckle makes your insides swirl. 
A stack of bills is placed on the counter, and the man stands, grabbing the hood of his black sweatshirt and pulling it up. His gloved hands go to the pockets of his leather jacket with a roll of his wide shoulders. From under the hood, the white of the painted mask glares out from under the shadows that now shroud him. 
You both sneak a glance at the mechanic's shop—a clear view from the front window. 
“See you around, then?” Your head is tilted at him, blinking. You hum under your breath. “I’m going to keep asking you why you showed up in this town, Riley, and I won’t stop until I get an answer.”
Simon quirks a brow, eyes glinting with interest. When was the last time someone had spoken to him like this outside of his boys?
“Look forward to it,” he utters slowly. With a blink and one more dead look, he’s already out the front door and walking back down the street—disappearing like a ghost the same way he had appeared. 
Picking up his cash and counting through it, the librarians across the way snicker, and one calls out, “So, the new mechanic, huh?”
“One more peep and I’m doubling your tab.”
But…you did have to admit, he had been charming…hadn’t he? At least someone here could juggle your attitude.
Three days pass with no sighting of Simon Riley, but just because you didn’t see him doesn’t mean you weren’t witness to his aftermath. 
The shop across the street was practically fixed up while you were asleep. 
Where there had been overgrown grass, there was now a cut lawn getting watered by the reach of an angry sprinkler. The fast movement of the spray reaches the sidewalk that was, somehow, still there under all that trash hiding away like a criminal. Stray bricks are gone and stacked into a pile as you pause outside the bar, staring wide-eyed with your breath caught in your throat in the late morning air. 
The ivy over your mural was peeled back—that faded wolf’s gaze locking with yours, unyielding to the calls of time as its canid body stool as a silent sentinel. 
But, on the third day, as you’re going on break before the night sets in, you manage to not only see Simon again but meet two of the other men who’d moved here.
You pick up your feet and jog across the street, hopping the curb as you blink, impressed at the open garage with its fixed and oiled bay door. Inside it was still dusty—remnants of what was left behind in the corners and scattered. But it was getting there. Quickly. 
“Didn’t know Simon was goin’ to sign on such a piece of rusted shite—where’s the fuckin’ outlets?” Gritted Scottish. You stick your hands into your pockets and enter the large opening. 
“If I remember,” you speak, finding the two men standing slightly off to the side as the bulkier one with a mohawk carries a series of extension cords. Cobalt and brown eyes dart to you in shock—the second man of darker complexion sharing a glance with the other in swift confusion. “When you manage to find them, they’ll all be burst.” 
Blank stares are sent your way. 
“Kids would come by and watch ‘em spark when they were bored. No one really cared enough to stop them.” A clearing of a throat meets your ears as you study the room more. 
It was small, with only one main garage for all the repairs, but that wasn’t new to you. The motorcycles were, though. 
Five in total all parked and resting next to one another near the back wall, all in varying shades of black and gray. Your lips twitch at the sight, imagining your late-night acquaintance riding one of them—you dare say that it fit him quite well, and you weren’t that surprised at all by this.
Biker mechanics. It fits the script. 
“Who’s this then?” The Scot asks you, raising a brow as a friendly smirk pulls his mouth up. “Can’t remember bookin’ any repairs today, Ma’am, might have to wait a few more days before we get it all up and runnin’.”
“I can see. No, I work just across the street,” you spare a friendly smile. 
“So you’re the bartender? The bartender.” The second man speaks, grinning kindly as he searches through a toolbox on a small table. He hums, looking playful. “So that’s why Ghost was gone so long.” 
Ghost…? Did they mean Simon?
The skeletal accents suddenly make far more sense.
“Johnny MacTavish,” A hand is leveled out ahead of you, and you take it casually with a muttering of your own name. “Soap’s just fine as well.” 
Your brow quirks, but you only share an amused nod.
The other individual stands and makes his way over, tall and leaner as to where Soap’s more blatant strength is. 
“Kyle Garrick—Gaz. Pleasure.” 
“Just came over to introduce myself,” your hand shifts back into your pockets as you motion with your head back to the bar. “I’m on my break.” 
“Ah,” Soap’s hands move the cables he holds as he loops them into a more storable shape vertically around his elbow and palm. “Last one to meet then is Price—man’s in town gettin’ lunch for us,” he grunts under his breath. “Hopefully a damn set of zip-ties, too.”
“Zip-ties, Mate?” Gaz breathes a chuckle with a fix of the backward ball cap on his head. “C-4 would bloody help more. At least then we can have a clean starting point.” 
“I think we’re fresh out of C-4, unfortunately,” you huff a laugh, motioning around as the men smirk at you, Johnny snorting a chuckle. “You guys have done a pretty good job so far. I can’t remember when it looked this nice in here.”
“Well, we’re honored, Bonnie,” Soap tilts his head as he ties off the cord with one of the ends. “Makin’ me blush.”
“If Simon had just looked at the place before buying it, we might have been able to open sooner.” Gaz huffs, thinning his lips as he glances over the broken window and the peeling paint—the door to the main lobby that has a punched dent in it. “Couldn’t be worse.”
“Well then it can only get better,” you breathe, shrugging. 
Gaz huffs affectionately. “Not wrong there, then.”
You lean forward, tilting your head. “You’ll find I rarely am.”
“Second time you’ve snuck on,” a Manchester accent scares you once more, head snapping to the side as the light spills in from the garage opening. “This a pattern, Sunshine?”
Simon’s brows are raised as those October eyes lock with yours. Gaz and Soap share a look, smirking before the Scot peels off to find a place to store his belongings. 
“Where have you been?” Gaz asks as you glare at the masked man for once again coming up behind you. 
A bag is presented, leaning off three fingers as a glance gets thrown past you. 
“Down the street. Needed these made.” The bag is tossed and Kyle catches it easily. 
You watch as the crinkly plastic is opened and the dark fabric of four black pairs of overalls is produced, each embroidered with their respective names. 
“What’s wrong with the old ones?” Johnny pipes up, brows furrowed. 
“Looks like you got fuckin’ mugged in ‘em.” Simon slides his attention back to you as Johnny curses with a glint of amusement in his blues. 
“Aren’t open yet.” Your face peels back to a stiff annoyance. 
“I can see that, Riley.” You motion to the other men. “I was being polite.”
He grunts while walking past, muttering through a brief smirk, “Doubt that.” 
Your jaw slackens, but you only growl and hold your tongue as you glance the mechanic over. He still had his leather jacket, but a loose shirt took the place of a hoodie. 
“You ready to answer my question?” Simon locks those eyes with yours from over his shoulder before sliding up to the black form of one of the motorcycles. 
Visible to the naked eye, you take in the lack of fairings around the frame—eyeing the pure black metal of the entire engine from any angle that you might move to you’d still be able to see. It was nice. Perfect, even; damn expensive too. While the thought was enticing, you can’t imagine Simon riding it—he seemed more rugged, more…classy. 
“Negative.” You roll your eyes, but Soap speaks before you can retort. 
“Finally takin’ out the CB1000R, Ghost? ‘Bout time.” The brute throws a blank look at the Scot as Gaz utters to you a few feet away before a casual ‘no’ is leveled out through the space.
“He got it months ago,” Kyle’s eyes crinkle. “Can’t seem to take it out for a ride yet. No one knows what he’s waiting on.”
“Can’t say I blame him,” your words confide. “It’s beautiful.”
“It was a fucking fortune—no use collecting dust is what I say.” You hum, shifting back to Simon who taps the seat of the CB1000R before moving past it to an older cruiser with dents and dirt along the sides. This was more him you thought. Rugged and more dated than the first; something you use on long rides to nowhere.
“Maybe he’s just waiting for a special occasion,” you guess.
“Better get on with it.” Gaz moves away with a shrug and a huff. 
Your lips pull in a small smile, and you watch Simon pull keys from his jacket and insert them as he moves to straddle the larger body of the cruiser, easing into it slowly. Staring, you think about how far that bike could take you—what you could see with it on the open road of possibilities and whipping air. Where would you go? Anywhere. Anywhere and everywhere. 
Eyes shifting away from the motorcycle, they widen as they softly meet Simon’s own—locked for a moment in a staring contest. His lids barely pull down, studying something. You clear your throat and exhale.
Sensing your company was most likely a hindrance at this point, you turn to leave as the engine flares—you wave easily behind your back with a call of well-wishes.
“Come have a drink one time, boys, yeah? I need stories that come from strangers for once.” A ruckus of ‘affirmatives’ and ‘will do, Ma’ams’ sparks up from Johnny and Kyle as you exit to the roar of the motorcycle behind you, your feet kicking a stray rock into the grass before you make it to the curb. 
Before you can cross, a steel body blocks your path. 
“I’ll be needing a drink later tonight, then.” Simon watches from atop his seat, one booted foot to the ground to steady himself as he comes to a slow halt. His fingers curl the handles, twitching.
“Let me guess,” you tilt your head, smirking, “Bourbon?”
“A woman after my own heart,” he draws numbly, October browns as dead as mulch. As dead as dirt.
“And do you have a heart, Simon Riley?” You question, blinking at him as your mind tells you to walk away. Your brain doesn’t need a repeat of Graham—you already had enough problems on your plate right now besides some attraction to this stranger. This push and pull made your heart jerk, even when you know it shouldn’t.
You’d only just met him.
The man hums, thighs shifting on the black metal frame. He says the easiest answer he can. 
“A cold one.” 
Pushing on the ground, he takes off down the road back into the main town for whatever errand he was on this time. Your eyes follow until the figure is no more than a memory of the smell of oil and the metallic tinge of caution.
You hated the smell of cigarette smoke. 
Like a pregnant woman’s aversion to the scent of meat, you grew nauseous at the very hint of cheap tobacco and paper on the air—loathed the burn of it. It had to do with your Ex, of course. The man had been a habitual chain smoker, lighting up one after the other until you had to leave his house entirely to puke on the front lawn. If you thought about it hard enough, you could still taste the ash on your tongue from when he kissed you after lighting up. 
But that was only one of the reasons you’d never moved in with him despite being together for years—the cheating was the other problem. 
Girl after girl, broken promise after broken promise, you’d still held onto him as if he deserved it. Hell, all that Graham Whitaker deserved were the copious amounts of STDs he probably had after sleeping with as many women as he could to try and get back at you. You didn’t have ample reason to ban him from the bar—him or his loud-mouth friends, you should say—so the problem, like a bad rash, persisted. Cars following you after work and all. 
But, the here, the now.
Simon had, in fact, come in for that drink that night—just as he had for the last week up until the grand opening of the boys’ shop. You’d both spoken throughout these encounters and formed some sarcastic and sly-looked bond that the other locals couldn’t understand. You had even learned about his military service. 
The both of you were just…different, people said. No one else really argued with it. 
You finally met John Price before the party that you’d heard from Simon that Soap and Gaz had been eager to host for the town—‘come meet the bastards that bought that old shitty building and see how they fixed it up all by themselves. You should come and give us your money.’
It was there that a proposal was offered. 
“Simon says you told him to come to you about paint.” John was late thirties, keeping a well-trimmed beard with a mustache that was the same shade of brunette as his head of hair. Tall, as well as built, he had found you as you were closing up the bar early for the town-wide party, Celina having already slipped out. 
You were dressed in a long skirt and a nice shirt for the occasion. 
“John Price, I’d imagine,” you comment, stuffing your keys into your pocket as your purse hangs from your shoulder. A throaty grunt tells you all you need to know as you move down the step. “Yeah, I did say that. Do you need some?” You look over his shoulder to the still peeling color on the outside of the bricks as the men are dragging out folding chairs and long tables. There was the clatter of laughter and loud calls. 
John’s blue eyes shift behind him, and he raises a brow slowly. 
“Thinkin’ we’d just hire you,” a side-eye. “If you’d be interested.” 
That was a surprise. 
You begin walking across the street, the man beside you and awaiting your answer. 
“Hire me?” Your voice asks, but you aren’t against the idea. “How do you know I’ll be any good at it,” you chuckle in question. 
“Simon says he found your initials next to the mural—the wolf.” Your feet pause, stuttering for a second before you catch yourself. The blood on your face stops its circulation in shock. “Not a bad piece, then.” John grunts. “...Think you can do a skull and wings?” 
So, you sat with your sketchbook in front of the wall, a portable camping chair below your bare feet as your legs folded under you. Your slip-on sneakers rest in the green grass, kicked off with a sigh. Blinking, the chatter and mumble from the party surround you in a sheen of community and calmness. You can pinpoint every voice, every story being re-told as if new news when it goes in one ear and out the other like a breeze on the wind. 
Humming under your breath as the sun is low in the sky, you hear the silent feet still from over your shoulder. A smirk flickers your lips.
“Snooping, Riley?” 
“My building.” He grumbles, “Seein’ what you plan to do to it.”
You snort, looking over your shoulder and smiling. “If I recall, you’re the one who took up my offer and told Price about it.” 
Simon was dressed in cargos and a compression shirt pushed up to his elbows, the swell of his forearms on full display along with the scars and…tattoos. You blink at them, the swirl of black skulls and guns; barbed wire and dog tags—the dark images that fit him as his motorcycles did on his left limb. Brown eyes flicker from yours to the painted wolf.
“Good at that,” the man says, balaclava shifting. 
Your expression slowly shifts to something far softer than you can remember it ever being; inside of your chest, your heart tightens. 
“Thank you.” 
He levels you, the corners of his eyes easing out of the numb nothingness to show something akin to shielded affection. Molten sunlight on the side of his face, making the color of his irises glow amber. Simon nods to your sketchbook, clearing his throat. 
“I able to see it, then, or is it some secret?” You huff.
“Come here,” your hand motions, palm brushing away eraser shavings as your fingers get stained with graphite. The shadow comes closer, leaning over you as the scent of oil pools in your gut. You blink at the side visage, swiftly looking back down to your sketchbook as a slight wind ruffles your skirt. 
“Price was talking about a skull with wings beside it—later on he made mention of a sword through the top.” While you explain the concept, you inadvertently study the tattoos on the flesh beside you, one scarred hand coming out to lightly grab the armrest of your chair as Simon leans even closer. 
As your face begins burning, breath caught in your throat, he blinks down at the image as he looms, head tilting. 
Simon breathes, chest rising and falling as his eyes go far off. You know the symbol means something, though you also have a good guess that it’s related to this group’s time in the service. 
He hums, and you see his lips open, the rough grate of his vocal cords as he begins to form words for you. 
“It’s—”
Your name is loudly called from across the way, both Simon’s and your heads snapping back as you both realize exactly how close you two have become. The stealing of the other’s warmth like wraiths of hidden longing ceases when you wrench your attention to the man you wished would leave you alone. 
Graham raises the dark bottle of a cheap beer from the dollar store in your direction, walking over. Now, your Ex wasn’t anything spectacular, but even you had to admit it was the best you could do around here if you didn’t want to date men only five years from the grave. Graham was tall, strong, and heavy-willed like a bear. In the day hours, he worked as a farmhand down the way. 
Your body tenses, eyes going tight. Simon sees.
“Who’s this,” he asks slowly, fingers twitching. 
“Ex,” you mutter, grimacing. “He’s going to make a scene.”
Already gazes had started drifting over, conversations lapsing into mute silence as orbs shifted to three different individuals all stuck in the same storm. 
Simon grunts, standing up to his full height and crossing his arms over his chest, legs shifting below him and thighs trading weight. His moving leaves half of you kept firmly behind him and your eyes study his stance as you notice that fact. You blink, and feel something stir in your ribcage, blooming like a flower. 
“Hey, Bartender!” Graham takes a cigarette out of his pocket and lights it as his fingers fumble over the neck of the bottle. “Though I’d seen you over here missing all the action. Nothing’s changed I see.” 
Your face pulls in with disgust.
“Graham, you’re drunk. Go home.” It was true—his words were slurring, his limbs loose with drink. He smirks at you, taking a drag of his cancer stick and puffing it directly at you. Your hand snaps to your nose to try and cover the horrendous smell.
“Nah,” he breathes. “I’m here with Celina, see’s a pretty nice lookin’ broad don’t you think? Not as good of a fuck as you, but, hey, I take what I get.” His expression shifts to hidden anger and Simon takes a heavy step forward before he can finish the rest of his sentence, hands shifting to grasp his biceps harder. Those browns simmer with low ferality—a warning.
The air gets heavy.
“Pretty good little lie you spread about me gettin’ that shit from Stacy.”
“That was a lie?” You drawl lazily and watch your Ex’s eyes flash with rage. But he should know you don’t take shit from him anymore. “Oh,” your fingers tighten over your flesh and make you sound stuffy. “Maybe I heard wrong, you’re right. You don’t have Chlamydia.” You glare. “It was Gonorrhea, wasn’t it?”
“Bitch!” Graham barks, moving forward, but before anyone can realize it, Simon already has him shoved back with a stone-like push to your Ex’s chest.
“Not smart, Mate.” The former soldier utters, arms falling back to his sides. The party by this point had entirely halted in sharp gasps and bated breath. 
Graham’s beer bottle shatters as it hits the ground, the grass not able to absorb the way it slams down to dirt. Your wide eyes stay stuck on Simon’s figure, who’s now entirely hiding your view of your Ex—the wide expansive back that shows the writhe of his shoulder blades and how his spine shifts under the tight shirt. 
Your hand lowers from your face.
“What the fuck?!” Graham spits. “You made me drop my fucking drunk, man!”
“Be thankful that was all, yeah?” Simon’s dead voice is a cold chill on a winter evening. Any sane person would turn and leave immediately. “Cut your losses.”
No one breaths for a long minute, and you can see the other new mechanics inching closer from the sides. All of the locals are deep into the scene, fingers to their lips in surprise. There’s going to be talk tomorrow—the bar will be busy. 
“Graham,” you try to sway the pig-headed man once more from behind Simon. “Go home.”
“So this is what I get,” your Ex spits, head trying to peek over the larger man’s frame to look at you. Simon’s hands clench into tight fists. “I’m with you for years and this is how you treat me? I gave you everything!”
“Those are years that I never want to think about again,” you say with a stiff finality. “And it’ll be a cold day in hell before you ever see me worrying about where you are or who you fuck.” 
Knowing that the situation is over and done with, Simon takes a single step forward and leans into the man. 
“You heard ‘er,” he levels, unblinking. “Scatter.” Simon’s accent made it sound more like a threat, but maybe it was. 
Graham growls and takes a long drag from his cigarette, staring Simon down. 
“Fuck you, you piece of shit.” But all he does is turn sharply on his heel and stomp away, crossing the street to his truck before he opens and closes the door with a violent slam. From across the way, Celina gasps and calls his name, but the engine has already started and Graham is down the road with a roar from the exhaust. 
Everyone is watching you and Simon, and the staring peels back your skin until Simon grumbles and grabs your arm. 
Blinking in shock, he only gives you a moment to steady yourself and slip on your shoes before he drags you inside the garage. You huff and look up at him as you close your sketchbook–trying to not look at those tattoos again. Your finger wanted to trace them—to study the ink down to the layer of skin where it ended and became red flesh and weeping veins. How far up his left arm did they go? Did they only stay at his forearm, or up to his shoulder?
Inside he lets you go, head slightly tilted to the outside as the sounds of hushed whispering pick back up; hurried and filled with electricity. Simon grunts, blinking. 
A heated silence encompasses the two of you, and as your eyes lock, neither can speak for a moment. 
“Sorry about that,” you glance at your feet. “Should have guessed he’d show up and do something.”
“Don’t apologize,” Simon crosses his arms again, boots righting themselves. “That’s not your fault that some bastard can’t act right, yeah? Forget about it, it’s all nothing.”
“You shouldn’t have to be involved—”
“Bloody cut it out, would you?” Simon glares, brows pulling in. “I said it’s nothing.”
He was very passionate about this, it seemed.
You sigh, shaking your head before a tiny chuckle makes the mechanic blink in confusion. “Suppose I can call you my guard dog now, huh?”
“Piss off,” you laugh, covering your mouth with your hand while your eyes narrow down. Simon's own crinkle along the edges, lowering his hands to push them into his pockets. 
A second leads into another, but neither of you has any particular interest in re-joining the others, even if Soap is smugly passing looks and Price smirks into his drink. Gaz fixes his hat while he tips back a beer bottle, hiding a glint of amusement. 
Simon’s voice lowers, seeming to hover closer. 
“You alright, then?” You nod, face heating up as you stare at his shadow-tainted visage and how the face-covering obscured him from your eager eyes. 
“I’m used to his drama. I have no problem giving it back.” Simon hums, October browns glinting like Halloween lights. 
“Seems so.” He pauses, and pushes out a joking, “Not surprised, Sunshine.”
“Good, Brown-Eyes,” you lean back on your heels and smirk. “I’d be offended if you were, with all we’ve been talking to one another.” 
“Getting familiar, Bartender?”
“Of course, Mechanic. Haven’t you heard?” He tilts his head, prodding you on as his eyes soften that candle-like smidge. “I keep everyone’s secrets—and you still have to tell me yours.”
Simon chuffs a low chuckle, and the fabric of his mask pulls as he shakes his skull. “Maybe one day, yeah? Need to stick ‘round to know ‘em.”
Then perhaps this town was worth wasting away in.  
“Bastard won’t cause any problems, will he?”
“No, no, he’s too much of a coward to try and get back at anyone. He won’t do anything.”
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steddieas-shegoes · 1 year
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Wayne first saw Steve Harrington when he was on a class field trip to the plant. He couldn’t have been older than 9. Eddie hadn’t come to live with him yet.
He only saw him for a minute, but it only took a minute to see that the boy had dark circles under his eyes that rivaled his own.
It took him a while to forget about the exhausted child in front of him and how much he reminded him of his nephew.
*****
He attended one of the Hawkins High basketball games during Eddie’s first senior year, took the night off for it, even. Eddie was never one for sports, so the fact he agreed to play with his band during their halftime was something Wayne couldn’t pass up watching. It had to have meant something to his boy for him to even mention it, so he played the part of proud parent and sat through the first half of the game.
But when he saw Steve Harrington out there, he couldn’t help but check for those dark circles or the same exhausted slump he saw in a child much too young to show physical signs of exhaustion.
He appeared to be fine, though Wayne couldn’t help but notice how he kept searching the stands for something or someone during every pause in the game.
Wayne had a gut feeling he knew who he was searching for, and an even stronger one that he wouldn’t find them.
After the game and the show, Wayne helped Eddie pack his guitar and amp into the back of the van.
“Hey, you ever talk to that Harrington boy?”
Eddie’s face was answer enough.
*****
To know Eddie was alive wasn’t enough for Wayne, he needed to watch him breathing, watch his fingers twitch while he slept. He needed to know that Eddie was real, was safe, was right in front of him.
But apparently Steve Harrington needed the same reassurances.
Steve had been by Eddie’s side since they let visitors into the room. As far as Wayne knew, he’d only left once for an hour to visit that Max girl’s room.
He was hesitant to say anything beyond kind greetings and goodbyes when he had to head to work. Steve looked one second away from breaking down.
He held Eddie’s hand like it was a lifeline, and maybe it was for him. Whatever they’d been through was serious, proof of that being the injuries they both were dealing with and the fact that Eddie hadn’t opened his eyes yet.
As much as Wayne wanted explanations, he wanted Steve to find comfort in being with Eddie more.
The dark circles under his eyes remained.
Wayne watched the way Steve would stare at Eddie, wordlessly begging him to open his eyes, and wondered what had changed between them. Was it just the trauma of the situation or something else?
He’d known Eddie liked boys for years; hard to hide when you get caught sneaking out of the house to go to a “special” bar in Indianapolis on a school night. He hugged him, told him he loved him no matter what, and offered to drive him out there himself the next weekend he had off if he promised to not go alone on a school night.
But Steve didn’t seem the type. Wayne had learned how to spot them, mostly so he could protect Eddie, and Steve had never seemed like he’d strayed or even thought about straying from girls.
He shouldn’t assume, though.
He knew how Richard Harrington was.
So he sat silently, guarding the two boys who needed it most.
On the sixth day, Wayne asked a nurse if Steve had left the hospital at all.
“No. Poor boy’s been glued to his side. The doctor had to stitch him up in the room because he wouldn’t leave.”
“Stitch him up?”
“Oh, yes! He had a large wound on his side and his chest had a few areas that needed stitches. He wouldn’t let anyone bandage his neck, but they prescribed him penicillin to try to prevent infection.”
Wayne shook his head. So Steve was a self-sacrificing idiot. Time to address that.
“Thanks, Janet. I owe ya a coffee for takin’ such good care of Eddie.”
Janet blushed. “Stop it! I’m just doing my job.”
Wayne smiled at her before making his way into Eddie’s room.
As usual, Steve was in a chair by his bed, hand in hand with Eddie.
The unusual part was that Steve was fast asleep, head nestled against Eddie’s leg.
It couldn’t be comfortable, but going off of how Steve had looked the day before, he was probably too tired to care about comfort.
Wayne looked at the scene in front of him.
Something else was different, too.
Eddie’d moved.
Only someone who’s been in this room for hours on end every day would have noticed it. Eddie’s head was turned towards Steve, and his other hand had found it’s way to Steve’s hair.
Oh.
So it was like that.
Wayne let out a shaky breath, too many emotions trying to escape at once. His boy had woken up, and had found comfort in someone who hadn’t left his side for almost a week. He couldn’t ask for more.
He slowly made his way out of the room, catching Janet just as she was passing to check on another patient.
“Did Eddie wake up?”
Janet’s eyebrows furrowed. “No, Steve hasn’t come to get us. Why? Is everything alright?”
Wayne nodded. “Everything’s fine.”
She smiled at him and continued on her way.
Wayne smiled to himself as he made his way down to the cafeteria to get Steve some food.
It looked like Steve Harrington was finally getting some rest.
Supportive Uncle Wayne Series Part 2
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samwise1548 · 2 months
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There is a scale regarding Tmagp characters, that goes from very unhinged about the horrors, to literally couldn’t care less. But I didn’t know how to title it so instead you just get this lineup :)
Added Teddy and Celia over here
[ID: A drawing of The Magnus Protocol characters standing in a line, with captions underneath each person.
The first is Colin Becker, with the caption "known saboteur of FR3-D1 [Freddy]". Colin is a white, ginger haired man wearing a dark green shirt over a black shirt and light brown pants. He's holding one hand against a corkboard of papers and post-it notes. His expression is full of rage.
The next is Gwendolyn Bouchard, captioned "suspicious from association, Gwen Bouchard". She is a white woman with long hazel hair with small braids in it. She's wearing a red vest over a brown shirt, a purple knee length skirt and tights. There is a thought bubble next to her with a picture of a red Among Us character and the word "sus" underneath it. Gwen's face is scrunched up in speculation as she glares angrily at someone far away.
The third person is Samama Khalid, and his caption reads "Sam 'casual cyber-sleuth' Khalid". Sam is a tall, skinny, brown man with curly brown hair. He's wearing a long, dark brown corduroy shirt over a grey shirt, and maroon pants. He's walking while looking at two papers in his hands quizzically.
The next person is Alice Dyre. Her caption says "Alice Dyre; Motto: keep calm and ignore the horrors". Alice is a short fat trans woman with albinism. Her hair is buzzed. She's wearing round glasses, a brown shirt with white color and sleeves, embroidered with red flowers. Her light brown pants have a patch on each knee that match the shape of her diamond star earrings. She has her arms crossed and is watching Sam from the corner of her eyes, nervously.
The last fully visible person is Lena Kelly, with the caption "Evil! Evil!! Evil!! -erm, I mean, Lena Kelly". Lena is a light skinned old woman with blond hair put into a tail with a claw clip. She's wearing a grey business suit over a light grey shirt. She is looking directly at the viewer with a neutral expression.
To the right of Lena is a black arm waving goodbye, cut off by the edge. The caption under it reads "also, Mr. noping out of here before things get ugly, Teddy Vaughn.
\End ID]
Closeups under cut
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kelppsstuff · 18 days
Text
Time of year
Summary: Alastor trying to impress you with mating season just starting
ALASTOR X F!READER
Masterlist
Warnings: nswf, biting, wax play, tied up, begging
Taglist: @fandomsbookclub @leathesimp @michelleszn @sashaphantomhive @ladyninggs @sirenetheblogger @jawline-of-steel
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Alastor is a gentleman. Always had been, always will be. His mother had raised him to be one.
Every year Alastor would feel a change in the air — mating season — and every year he never indulged himself. Alastor had no interest in being with someone, why would he give them false hope?
This year things were different. This year he was living in a hotel for sinners to be rehabilitated. This year he’s back in hell after seven years of being gone. This year he met you.
Despite these differences he expected one thing to stay the same, mating season. He expected everything to remain normal this time of year, and at first he didn’t notice the slight changes.
It first started when he’d grow annoyed at people getting way to close to you.
Alastor walked out into the main room of this hotel. A normal thing for him.
He looked over and saw you at the bar, laughing with Husk. Alastor’s ear twitched with annoyance along with his eye. This wasn’t Tom and Jerry, Husker was not that funny of a cat.
Husker looked over your shoulder and noticed his soul owner giving him a threatening glare. Odd.
Alastor made his way over to the bar and placed a hand on your shoulder — which startled you since he hated another persons touch — he spoke with a grin that husk knew was him being pissy.
“Pardon the intrusion however I was going to ask if you would care to join me on a stroll.”
A simple ask that you agreed too, and you had thought the walk went swimmingly. However Alastor’s mood had just worsened.
He spent the whole walk just fending off creepy looks others would give you. He even sent his shadow away go torture a few.
You were walking down the stairs to angel — who stood by the door — putting on the back of your right dangling earring when Alastor saw you.
He spat out his coffee and began to choke on his own spit, you were absolutely gorgeous. You wore a small dark Maroon dress, that made him feel feral. That was his color.
He hurried to you before you and the spider could leave. “Darling! Where are you off too looking so charming?”
His words drew heat to your cheeks and you blessed him with a smile that made him feel like he was going to die in the best way possible. “Angel and I are heading out to that new club called consent.” Alastor’s mind went through simple math.
A club, that had people. People liked good-looking people. You looked divine. People would try and get with you. When hell freezes over.
“Perhaps I should accompany the two of you.”
“No need, I know it’s not your scene.”
You waved him goodbye and walked out. Alastor silently returned to his room. Where he very reasonably smashed every piece of furniture. All reasonable of course.
Alastor had just told himself he couldn’t let his guests of the hotel go out and fuck up there hard work. Let’s be honest though, he didn’t give to shits what angel was up too. He was staring at you.
He noticed a guy, about to walk up to you so he was quick. Grabbed your arm and twirled you into his chest.
You looked up in confusion and when you saw Alastor you voice was mixed with concern. “What are you doing here?”
He leaned down and whispered, “isn’t it obvious? I’m here to dance. I will say we could use better music.” He nipped at your ear with his sharp teeth — drawing blood that would no doubt leave a scratch later — and jazzy music started to play.
You giggled as you twirled you again. Your feet started to move faster in pace with his own.
Alastor picked you up and twirled you in the air. You felt almost alive again at the feeling. Alastor caught you and when you looked at him like he was the only person in the world, Alastor knew this was right. You were right.
The two of you continued to dance all night, and surprisingly everyone had got down with the fast pace jazz playing, not an ounce of complaining. 
Another thing that happened that night was people took photos of you and Alastor. Most had him glitched out but there was one, once that wasn’t.
It had been when he dipped you and you clanged to him in fear of falling. Alastor had a teasing grin and that photo had spread everywhere online.
Typically Alastor hated people being in his business, but he wouldn’t lie he loved the claim it gave you.
At first Alastor felt annoyed at the photo, but when he was walking around cannibal town he overheard two chaps talking about “the radios demon girl.”
He liked that name, he didn’t acknowledge the thought that popped in his mind after that.
‘I’d prefer Radio Demon wife.’
Nope this year mating season was normal. Right? Sure he felt a tad bit more possessive but it was normal. Wasn’t it?
When mating season came around Alastor never once indulged in the desire for a release. Hated the thought of even doing it.
Though when it became so unbearable that it caused him so much pain he decided once couldn’t be bad.
However it was the image of you in his mind that made him cum all over his hand.
That’s when he knew, this year was different.
He was scared at first but soon the need for you overcame that fear. He was the radio demon, he could do anything. So what if he experienced a little change? I mean have you seen you?
That’s when Alastor decided to pull the old charmer he once was when he was kicking in in the living world.
Alastor’s wouldn’t lie, he knew how to charm a lady, he’s had experience. Sure he hasn’t done any of that since he stepped into hell but he sure it couldn’t be that hard.
—
Alastor took a seat next to you at the vacant bar. He tapped his fingers as decided to open his mouth. And pure stupid slipped past it.
“So did it hurt when you fell from heaven?”
Alastor swears he saw a legit loading screen over your head. For the first time since ever Alastor was nervous.
“I think you have me confused with Lucifer.”
Rage bubbled into his skin at the sound of you saying someone else’s name. But nervousness washed that down.
Alastor made a terrible excuse and teleported away. “There’s always next time!” Sureeee.
Alastor was looking for you — something he had been doing often — only to find you in the kitchen with Nifty.
You smiled down and here and took a sip of the soup she gave you. “Absolutely lovely. You should go and give a bowl to Husk.” Nifty nodded excitedly and hurried off past Alastor.
You laughed a little and spoke to Alastor when you were sure Nifty was gone. “That was so salty oh my gosh.”
Alastor spoke before he could register you words even. “You wanna see if I’m salty?”
“What?”
“What?”
You two just stood there staring at one another for a good 10 seconds. Just processing. By the time your brain caught onto what he was saying he was already giving a stupid excuse to leave and rush to his room.
Now you had noticed Alastor trying to flirt. You noticed his little acts of service, and you noticed his jealous tendencies.
It was honestly funny on how Alastor would try to impress you. Alastor felt as if you weren’t interested in him. Let’s say that put quite the downer on his mood.
Alastor sat at the bar, drinking some whiskey when you walked past him. “Hey handsome.” He immediately perked up.
He became so needy for your attention and now that you were giving it to him? That made him want you more.
This was your first time in hell. Your first “mating season.” Most animalistic demons was around this time. So when you found Alastor knocking on your door in the middle of the night, good in hands, something in you went feral.
You invited him in to eat, he placed the food gently on your table. However Alastor felt like he needed to leave, or else he couldn’t control himself.
The smell of you all around? Not to mention he could practically taste your hormones on smell alone.
Alastor took a deep breath and started to excuse himself. “I should be off to bed now.”
He started to take steps to the door but you got in his way. Hand on his chest, eyes slightly begging yet demanding.
The two of you were quiet but the air was thick. It took you glancing one time at his lips for them to suddenly be on yours.
The kiss wasn’t soft, it was hard and rough. Like you was dehydrated and this was y’all’s first sip of water.
You pushed your hands into his hair while he tapped your legs. Understanding the silent command you jumped onto him, letting him pin you against the nearest wall.
You nipped his lower lip, drawing blood. The metallic taste mixed inside your mouth. It made Alastor even more painfully hard.
He let you stand and started to lead you two to the bed. Stripping you along the way as you did him.
By the time he pushed you into the mattress you only had your undergarments on while Alastor only had his pants.
The bed rocked slightly and hit the nightstand. “Careful Alastor the candle.”
Alastor’s gaze flickered over to the lit candle. He pushed you further up the bed and summoned some ropes. Effortlessly wrapping your hands to the headboard.
Alastor reached over to the candle and you whined out in anticipation. At first you were worried at the hot wax, but when Alastor tipped it slightly and the red mold dripped onto you skin you moan out in pleasure.
You hadn’t expected that to feel good but all you wanted was more. You had no doubt Alastor was a masochist but maybe you were one too.
“That’s a good girl.” His voice had a rasp that made you beg him for more.
“Please! Please Al.”
Alastor set aside the candle and started to kiss where the hot wax was starting to harden. He slightly snipped at your thighs causing you to beg him more.
“Please Alastor!”
“Please what?”
“Bite me.”
Bite you he did. Blood drew at the sharp bite he scattered across your thighs. Marking you his. He liked every drop of blood that would flow out the wound until it became to much. He couldn’t wait another second.
He discarded his pants and rubbed his top against your fold. Slightly grinding against your pussy.
“Please Alastor I need it.”
Fuck he needed it too but if he did this there would be no turning back. His afterlife would truly change forever.
But it already was changed, from the second he met you. So fuck it.
He thrusted up into you hard. While he would usually be a gentle dotting partner this time he just couldn’t wait.
He started the push himself all the way inside, not giving you a second to adjust. Blood dripped from your heat and Alastor grew to love the sight under him. You spread out blood, wax, his markings all over you.
He started to move quicker and quicker not giving you a second to adjust to his size. He fast a rough pulling sounds out of you that you didn’t even knew existed. Like you were some porn star.
Alastor sure as hell was fucking you like one.
You clanged to the radio demon, feeling your end about to wash through you.
“Alastor! Oh god I’m going to cum.” He gripped you chin and kissed you roughly. “You cum with only my name in your mouth.”
He pinch your clit and you came hard. Alastor’s name was the only thing you knew as you cried out to him in pleasure.
Alastor didn’t stop, he was selfishly chasing his own release, even if you were overstimulated.
You felt tears form in your eyes and you clenched around him, while he spilled himself inside of you.
When you both came down your high — panting — he slipped himself out and gave you a tender kiss.
He placed tender loving kisses on your thigh and face, slightly massaging your legs, while also making sure his cum stayed deep inside you.
The next morning was filled with the same Lust as the night before, however it was more gentle.
He explained he was like this because of mating season and why you were like this as well. The two of you came to an agreement that this sexual relationship would end when mating season did, even if both of you felt like dying while agreeing to it.
However when the air returned to normal you two relationship did not. You two continued your sinful acts. Like the two of you could never get enough of one another.
It wasn’t long till you confessed your feelings for Alastor, and him returning them.
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Ahhhh! I’m trying new things out with my banner so if it’s a bit different in my upcoming post then that’s why.
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thewritingofamadwoman · 4 months
Text
Billy’s Girl
Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Cheerleader!Reader (reader’s last name is Emmerson; no reason, just cuz)
Warning: Fluff, making out, Billy realizing he’s in love, and Jason Carver being the dick that he is.
Enjoy & let me know what you think! 💙
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“Dude look at Emmerson, she looks fucking hot in that cheerleading outfit.”
“Nah man have you seen Chrissy? She looks amazing.”
“Yeah but have you seen that skirt on Emmerson? If she jumps a little higher, I’ll be able to..”
“Finish that fucking sentence Carver, and the only thing you’ll be able to do is drink your lunch through a fucking straw.”
Billy Hargrove turned around from his seat on the bleachers to glare at the boy seated directly behind him, who was objectifying his girlfriend. Now, dont get it twisted. No one loves cat calling more than Billy Hargrove. But now that he’s a taken man things have changed. He only had heart eyes for his girl. Little Ms Emmerson was one of the first people he met in this shitty, bumble fuck town when he first moved here with his fucked up family. She was beautiful, kind, and sweet, the love of his life. She was the light to Billy’s darkness. He promised her and himself that he would protect her at all costs. And he intended to keep that promise.
Jason Carver visibly gulped at Billy’s threat, knowing that the Hargrove boy wasn’t kidding. Billy’s glare deepened and it his nose flared, almost like a bull ready to charge.
“Sorry Hargrove, didn’t see you there. Just meant to say that your girl is gorgeous.” Jason said, attempting to calm the situation.
Calling her gorgeous? Strike two.
“Yeah I know she’s fucking gorgeous Carver, I’ve got eyes. Just keep your fucking eyes on your own girlfriend and shut your fucking mouth,” and with that, Billy turned back around, eyes back on his girl as she practiced with the rest of her team.
As if feeling his gaze on her, she turned and found Billy’s eyes immediately. She smiled wide and blew him a kiss before getting into the next routine formation. Billy pretended to catch the floating kiss and brought it to his heart. One of the girls around her whispered something and Billy watched as his girl smiled and blushed, the girls around her obviously teasing her about her their relationship. Her bright eyes found his again and Billy’s swore that in that moment, he’d never felt a love stronger than that. His heart tightened in his chest and he felt like he could explode with pride.
Practice ended an hour later and Billy found himself outside, leaning on his Camaro and patiently waiting on his girl. With anyone else, Billy would have driven off, angry at having looked like a fool for waiting an hour for someone. But for his girl? Billy would wait until the end of time. The gym doors opened and the sound of a gaggle of girls made its way to Billy’s ears. He looked up, arms crossed in his denim jacket as he waited to spot her, a smirk immediately forming on his lips when he did. She locked eyes with him and said goodbye to her friends, making her way towards him with a huge smile on her face.
“Hey handsome. Thank you for waiting for me,” she said, as she wrapped her arms around his neck and nuzzled her nose against his.
“Anything for you. Just don’t make it a habit. I barely wait for Maxine when she’s late,” he teased giving her a genuine smile, his deep voice rumbling in his chest.
“That’s mean, you should wait for her more often. It’s going to get chilly soon,” she gently berated him, her fingers playing with the curls at the nape of his neck. Billy suppressed the shiver he felt coming on, and pulled her closer. She giggled in his arms, pressed so tightly against him, and loving every moment of it.
“I’ll think about it. But I don’t want to think about my little shit head sister right now. I want to think about you in that little uniform of yours,” he whispered against her lips, barely touching. She played along, whispering a reply against his lips as well.
“Oh? And what about my uniform?”
“Just that it’ll look way better on my bedroom floor,” he growled and closed the space between them, pressing his lips hungrily against hers. He swallowed her gasp and slipped his tongue into her mouth as he devoured her. One of his hands slipped down to her behind, using his large palm to give her an impromptu squeeze. She squealed into the kiss and Billy laughed against her lips. When they broke apart, they were both panting.
“Woah, where did that come from?” She asked breathlessly. Billy grinned and nuzzled his nose against her again.
“What, can’t a guy show his girl just how much he’s missed her?” She smiled back at him and pulled him into a sweet embrace.
What she didn’t see, however, was Jason Carver’s car behind her as she and Billy were making out.
What’s she also didn’t see, was that while Billy was hugging her, he was sporting the biggest shit eating grin; his arm around his girl’s waist and middle finger up at Jason as he drove by, a scowl on his face.
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livingemkayde · 9 months
Text
ch i. chaser
joel miller x f!reader x unrequited!tommy miller
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chapter one of chaser
warnings: 18+. minors please dni. smut. semi public (kissing) and if you count the bathroom inside a bar. unprotected p in v. dom!joel. a bit of an age gap that's implied but never touched on much (reader might be 22/23 ish and joel is maybe 35/40 in this). no use of y/n!
a/n: lil teeny teeny tiny one shot that i've been thinking about alot and needed to get down on paper! cant help myself when it comes to a cliffhanger ending. Hope you enjoy hehe &lt;;3 (not related to my dbf!joel mini series at all! but working on the fourth part soon 😀) 
if you would like to read more of mine: masterlist!
Getting fucked against the door of a bar bathroom was not on your plans for the night — but your panties were ruined at his first glance.  “Fuck, knew you'd be perfect,” he says into your ear, grabbing at your ass. You hear him pump himself a few times before rubbing the tip of his cock through your weeping folds.  “Gonna ruin you,” he moans when his tip catches your entrance... 
"Cheers!”
You throw your glass towards your friend, Olivia, sitting across from you in some dingy bar in downtown Austin, Texas.
"Cheers," you say back to her — kinda half heartedly — you don't know if it's something you should be cheersing about.
"C’mon — live a little?" She pleads with you.
"I know, I know. I'm just — I don't know — nervous?”
"It's normal to be nervous. I think it'll be something good for you though," she says while peering around the bar. 
You down the shot. It's the first of many. Even though you know you have your interview first thing tomorrow morning.
"There she is!" Your friend says enthusiastically, while you grimace at the bite the vodka leaves in your throat.
"I need a chaser — fuck," you manage to get out before coughing and leaving your stool and her behind.
Babysitting.
Well, the ad really said nannying, but, you're a glorified babysitter.
Fresh from college with an English degree under your belt and you're — babysitting.
Not really what you had in mind for your post grad life, but you needed the money, desperately. And at least this way, you didn't have to work 12 hour shifts for minimum wage. And you could hang out with a cute kid for a couple hours.
You were nervous, but after looking for a job for so long, and finally getting a call back, you needed this. 
And it was your friend, Olivia, who dragged you out to a bar to celebrate your interview — not even job.
You approach the bar, leaning against it to whisper into the bartender’s ear that you needed a chaser, your hands finding the wood while you dig your nails in there.
You thank the bartender graciously, bringing the cup to your lips while turning around simultaneously.
When you move to walk back towards Olivia, you bump into something — no — someone.
"Sorry, darlin’,” a deep voice draws your eyes from your chaser sloshing around a bit in your hand to dark eyes looming over you.
You look up and see a handsome man  — maybe a bit on the older side — but you would be lying to yourself if you didn’t think he was hot. But this is not the time for anything. Not with a very, very important interview looming right around the corner.
You try to brush it off and move back towards Olivia.
“‘S alright,” you mumble out when your eyes meet his, he stands a good head over you, his Carhartt jacket fits snug around his biceps – he just looks…good.
You give him a small smile goodbye, but he catches your hand.
“Can I get you ‘nother?" He asks, his eyes twinkling under the soft string lights attached to the ceiling of the bar.
Maybe you're so entranced by his broad stature, or his dark drawl, or the glint in his eyes, but you don’t really register what he's asking.
"What?" You reply back dumbly.
He chuckles a bit, the warm sound of it overtaking your breath.
He gestures down to your hand where your chaser stands half spilled.
“Your drink,” he says with a smirk on his face.
He waves down the bartender and asks him to give you another.
When it comes, he takes the cup out of your hand and replaces it with a fresh one. When his fingers brush, yours, your heart skips a beat.
"There," he says finally — while his other hand squeezes your forearm. The skin under his fingertips burn.
You don't know what's gotten into you, maybe it's the shot already rooting itself in your system, or the thought that this could be your last night of fun — but you look at him through your lashes and ask — tentatively —
“What did you say your name was?” 
Hook. 
“I didn’t, sweetheart,” he looks at you, his arm stretches out to brace his hand against the bar — caging you in. 
“Oh — sorry. Thought you might've…never mind,” you reply sheepishly, showing him a smile. 
“You wanna know my name?” 
“Only if I get to ask you two questions,” you play with the cup, leaning closer to him, “and I'm not sure you're ready for that.” 
Line. 
“Think I might be,” he leans in, whispering to your ear over the roar of the crowd. “Gimme your worst.” 
Sinker. 
You raise your glass in his direction, prompting him to give you his name.
“Joel.”
You don't know why that name sounds extremely familiar. But you chalk it up to being slightly drunk and his musky scent filling your nostrils makes the tell tale stickiness between your legs blossom. 
“Joel,” you test on your tongue. Something about this guy is intriguing to you. Maybe it was all a game at first but when his eyes flick between your eyes and your lips — you aren't sure if it's a game anymore. 
“Nice to meet you,” you say. He flashes you a gruff smirk.  
“You buy all the girls you ‘bump into’ at bars drinks?”
Joel’s closer — if possible. He smells woodsy and he can't keep his damn eyes off your lips. 
“Nah,” he smiles, looking back into your eyes, “Just the pretty ones.”
You shouldn't blush as hard as you do. 
Somewhere between all the looks and flirting your hand finds his chest, resting above his heart. 
“You think I'm pretty?” you reply with a teasing look. 
“Don’t get cocky now,” he bites back. 
Honestly, whatever you were thinking about before Joel was thrown out the door at the sound of his rich drawl. Now all you can think is him — the whiskey on his breath, his hands finding your waist, and him leaning down — closer. 
You look down to his lips — surrounded with gruff facial hair that you really want to run your fingers through. You don’t care about anyone else at the bar. You don’t even remember you came here with Olivia. Not when he stalks forward, leaning in so you whisper into his ear —
“Kiss me?” in a hushed tone only he can hear. 
He leans back a bit to stare at your face, a knowing smirk already playing on his lips. 
“You only had two questions.” 
Caught a fucking live one. 
“Kiss me,” you rephrase — a declaration, a statement, or even a demand — not a question. 
“There you go,” he growls before ducking his head down to kiss you. It's a little rough — his movements. But he's gentle with his lips. Joel grabs your face with one hand, the other finding purchase on your hip while squeezing hard. 
You moan into the kiss which has you blushing. You didn't mean to sound so desperate for a man you just met. You get even louder when his thigh slots itself between yours — your skirt hikes up a bit, his jeans rutting against your core. 
You feel him smirk against your lips at that. 
“Joel—” you whimper when he ducks his head to place heavy kisses on your neck. 
“Bathroom,” he groans before giving you a quick peck and stepping away from you with a darker look in his eyes. Your thighs clench in anticipation. 
You let him saunter through the crowd towards the restrooms. 
Fuck, what is happening? You're not even that drunk. He just tastes intoxicating and a bit sweet to your surprise and you want more. You know what will happen if you follow him in there, and there's really no hesitation as you down another shot, chug your chaser and disappear into the crowd. 
You knock on the door to the bathroom and it opens almost immediately. 
Joel pulls you inside, pressing you up against the door until it closes. He's on you immediately — pulling down the straps of your top, exposing skin, hiking up your skirt to reveal panties. 
He groans when his fingers feel the wetness through cotton. You moan into his mouth. 
“Been watchin’ you all night,” he whispers into your ear, you snake your hand down at his words, feeling him through denim — your fingers threaten to tug at his zipper, “Pretty girl…” 
“Fuck — please —” you whine at the feeling of his length but he cuts you off. 
“Say my name,” he says — already tugging down the zipper on his jeans, freeing himself, and pushing your panties to the side with his other hand. 
“Joel — jesus —”
He flips your body with strong hands on your hips. 
You bet you look fucked out. Your shirt, halfway pulled off your body, with an open mouth and eyes dusted with lust as you moan out a name you just met ten minutes ago. 
Joel presses you against the door, your hands find purchase in the wood, clawing at the flat plank. 
Getting fucked against the door of a bar bathroom was not on your plans for the night — but your panties were ruined at his first glance. 
“Fuck, knew you'd be perfect,” he says into your ear, grabbing at your ass. You hear him pump himself a few times before rubbing the tip of his cock through your weeping folds. 
“Gonna ruin you,” he moans when his tip catches your entrance but he pauses there. 
“Please, Joel —” you whine and he sinks in more. The stretch leaves you speechless, you whine incoherent nonsense to him. He groans and fights the urge to dive in. 
“Beg me,” he mumbles. 
“What?” You can't really hear much over the ringing in your ears. 
“You want it? Beg,” he demands through gritted teeth. 
That's new. 
But you aren't complaining by any means. 
“P-please I—” You're flushed now. 
“You what?” He inches out this time, you moan at the loss. 
“I n-need you — god — please, Joel.” 
“Fuck. You want it like this? Up against the door? Where anyone can hear you?” He slides back in, almost enough. 
“Yes — yes, please. God, please,” you beg, balling your fists and biting your lip. 
He complies, surprisingly, sinking into you without hesitation while mumbling a small needy under his breath. You almost scream at the feeling and he has to cover your mouth with his hand in response. 
The stretch is almost too much. But somehow it feels nice to be pressed against the door — the pressure getting to an all time high. You could be screaming — saying anything and you wouldn't be able to tell. Everything seems fuzzy around his girth when he starts pumping in and out of you. 
With each slam of his hips you get pushed further into the door, your cheek resting against the wood while his hand wraps around yours, pinning you down.
“Fuck — so fuckin’ tight,” he groans into your skin. 
You aren’t gonna last long — you make that much known — whimpering to him over your shoulder. 
“Joel — I’m-I’m not gonna —” 
“I know baby, I know.” 
He cages you in — chasing after his own orgasm. 
“Doin’ so good for me,” he groans, “Made for me.” 
That sends you over the edge. You get impossibly tight around him and he clamps down on your mouth when you cry out in bliss. He doesn’t let up. Even when you relax around him — spent. 
“Jesus,” his hips stutter as he moans into the back of your head with an open mouth. 
“Inside — please,” you whimper through your overstimulation. 
You moan at the feeling of his hips punching faster even though he’s dead silent, chasing his high. 
You think he might pull out and you really want him to stay in. 
“‘M on the pill — Joel,” you moan but he pushes you harder into the door, squeezing your hand tight when he comes inside you. 
You can feel the hot stickiness of it roll through you — coating your walls. He only lets out a few grunts and moans — mostly stoic behind you.
When Joel pulls out, he spins you around and kisses you. You aren’t sure how you don’t slump to the floor. But a buzzing from your phone knocks you both out of it.
Olivia. 
You answer quickly. 
Hello?? Where the hell are you? 
“Sorry Liv! I got caught up in the bathroom. Give me a second,” you give him a knowing look but he waves you off, fixing your shirt and pulling down your skirt. 
When you hang up, he kisses you again. 
“I gotta go,” you mumble to him reluctantly. He’s still running his hands along your body — his lips ghosting your shoulder. 
“Friend?” 
“Yeah.” 
“Can I see you again?” he says. 
You almost let the unconscious no, sorry slip from your lips but you think about it. You really do — and you want to see him again too. 
“Yeah,” you echo, giving him a small smile before handing him your phone to put his contact in. 
Joel shoves it back into your hand after typing it in. He opens the door, motioning for you to step out first. 
Hm. You note. 
Gentleman. 
“Thanks,” you mumble. You’re about to leave, but he catches your arm, spinning you around before landing a soft kiss on your lips one last time. 
“See you soon,” he whispers. 
_
Miller. 
The name stares back at you — etched into the mailbox. 
You rub your hands on your pants to rid them of the sweat. You have no idea why you’re so nervous. You didn’t get good sleep last night, the hangover creeping into your early morning, making you run a bit late. 
But fuck it. 
You needed this job. 
And people like you. Right? 
You hope that much as you make your way to the front door. You also hope this family will be nice — and you pray to god you get the fucking job. 
You knock tentatively and hear a small voice mixed with a gruff one, coming to the door.
You do see Joel soon. Way too fucking soon. 
Because he stares back at you when the door swings open, accompanied by a young girl. 
He’s speechless. 
You both are. 
_
ch ii. wild things
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wpdarlingpan · 4 months
Text
Snow Falls… In Love
Part 2 ❄️
Yandere Coriolanus Snow x Innocent!Reader
Female Prounouns
Word Count: 2k
Summary: an innocent girl from district 12 is Coriolanus Snow’s tribute. She wins the capitals heart through her love and kind eyes. Now he never wants to let her go, she was his tribute. At first it was admiration, but not it’s grown into something bigger. Love.
Warnings: obsessive behavior, mentions of murder, normal hunger games warnings, self-deprecation
Click which part you’d like to read below! ❄️
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 (Finale)
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The kiss they shared was monumental for Coriolanus. It was as if every puzzle piece fell into place for him. His confidence overruled the idea of Y/N getting murdered in the games the next day.
But that’s all she could think about.
Y/N adored Corio, after all he’d done to keep her alive and favored it was impossible not to. It was difficult for her to process that fact she found someone this special but she would soon die in the games.
“Corio, I-“ she spoke before cutting herself off, figuring out the best way to say it. “I don’t want you to think I have a chance in that arena. Hope is a dangerous thing.”
Coriolanus was silent, staring into her eyes intently as he moved to grab her chin with a firm grip.
“You are going to get out of that arena. The other mentors? Their focus is on making their opponents strong. They will look past simple solutions in favor of brute strength. You will get out of this because of you are your strengths, agility and wits.” He never looked away, not even for a second. He didn’t even let go until he thought he got his point across.
Y/N hesitated but nodded as he goes to hand her a compact case before stopping.
“What is this?” She questions at his hesitation. Not because it’s his mother’s but because he was afraid she open it or something before he could explain. He would never put her in harms way.
“Do not open it until absolutely necessary. Do not smell it or even touch it util that point. Even just a little of it could kill you.”
Y/N understood that he wanted to ensure she’d have a weapon within moments of the timer starting. She nodded as he continued to talk about a hiding space.
“Thank you Corio, thank you for everything you’ve done to keep me alive.” Tears gathered in her eyes, silently falling as he wiped them.
“This isn’t goodbye, I will see you when you win the games. I will see you everyday when I wake up and at the end when I fall asleep.“ Coriolanus leaned in and kissed her softly as he wiped her tears with a plain handkerchief before he retreated back to his house. Not home because he truly believed his home was with you.
~*~
Coriolanus watched the games reluctantly, the blood spilled seem to engulf the screen. He stared at the screen holding Y/N.
The second the countdown stopped they were off. Y/N turned around in fear to see a spear being thrown towards her as she attempted to duck out of the way, but it still managed to cut her arm causing her to whimper in pain.
Yet It didn’t stop her as she ran into the vents, it the hiding place snow suggested but good enough. She was even able to lock it before anyone could notice.
The battle outside was loud. The clangs of metal crashing echoes through the arena. The sounds of screams and grunts as someone’s life vanished in mere moments.
Meanwhile Coriolanus was internally on edge. It wouldn’t show through his poised posture or the indifferent look on his face but the way his heart was beating faster.
There were no cameras in the vents much to Lucky Flickerman’s despair and promises to add one next year.
By sundown there was nearly half of the tributes left.
It was late at night and dark in the arena, most of the tributes were sleeping or staying in their hiding spots since it was dangerous to go out in the dark.
That’s when Sejanus snuck in. He saw the way they hung up his friend from the districts. The torture he went through while he was living lavishly in the capital with his daddy’s money.
To which he used to give his friend a proper District 2 send off.
Unluckily or luckily for Coriolanus it was his responsibility to get him out.
~*~
Y/N peaked out the vent when she heard talking. A voice sounded familiar but with how far away they were it was hard to tell for sure.
Corio couldn’t pass up this opportunity so as his friend gathered himself, he ran up to the vent.
Y/N was on edge until she saw the face of Coriolanus Snow.
The tears instantly began running as she went to along it but be stopped her.
“I have to get out of here. I’m not supposed to be here. But I had to see you, I couldn’t leave without hearing your voice in person. I’m sorry I can’t get you out.” He reached through the vent the best he could and they held hands. “There’s significantly less tributes left from earlier. Your chances are bettering Y/N, now it’s time for you to believe in yourself.”
“I will be okay, I will see you later Corio.” Y/N spoke as her voice wavered. Would she? She didn’t know. But she couldn’t bring herself to fully find comfort in his words.”
“See you later my love.” Corio spoke without truly thinking of the implication of the pet name but couldn’t find himself to be bothered as him and Sejanus ran out of the arena, no other tributes even hearing the sound of the gates closing for the last time until the winner was announced.
~*~
Y/N had begun to sneak out of the vent at night to stretch her legs. Risky but necessary after spending days sitting down in the vent, her breathing silent as tributes would walk by, not sparing even a glance at the vent.
That was until one did notice.
Y/N got out of the vent on the third night, pushing the door open quietly as she stepped out on alert.
What she didn’t know though was there was someone else in that part of the arena. They were crouched in a corner, blending into the shadows the best they could at the orders of Coral.
Tanner got up slowly, reaching to grab his weapon, before running at Y/N.
She heard the rocks cracking beneath his feet before she turned to the noise. His sickle was raised high, a battle cry falling from his mouth as he swung right at Y/N. She dodged it.
That was until she lost her balance and slipped down the slanted rocks.
~*~
Coriolanus was the only one left at the viewing auditorium. He watched closely as Y/N was crawling out of the vents.
He looked around the frames of the arena, checking peoples positions to ensure the safety of his tribute.
That’s when he saw Tanner.
Corio watched in apprehension as tanner ran at her. He was hitting buttons on the keypad urgently, looking for anything to help her after the whole faulty drones thing.
But what else could be done?
~*~
Y/N felt her head slam onto a rock, leaving only a concussion hopefully due to the lack of blood.
Tanner made his way down, almost making a game of cat and mouse out of the chase as he slowly lurked closer.
Y/N pushed her self up even with the disagreement of her head as she went to run before feeling a slight weight in her pocket. Reaching into her pocket as she kept an eye on him, she got ahold of the little ‘gift’ from Corio.
The second Tanner got closer Y/N open the container and blew the entire contents into his face before throwing the container to the center to keep her hands free in case it doesn’t work.
Nothing happened… at first.
Then he collapsed as blood drained from his nose.
Coriolanus watched as Tanner’s feed cut with a look of admiration at Y/N’s ability to defend herself. Because that’s what he saw it as, self-defense.
Y/N saw it as murder. She knew what was going to happen. It was between the two of them. They wouldn’t make friendship bracelets and stop fighting. This was life or death, she had to make her choice. The feeling of the poison in her hand made her decision for her as it brought a familiar blonde to the front of her mind.
But it didn’t make it hurt any less as she watched the light fade from his eyes before shutting them. A quiet promise of hoping he had a better time in the next life before shutting herself in the vent.
With the Rebels attacks increasing, Volumnia Gaul decided the game was over. There was no chance for a Victor. They all would die.
This was not something Coriolanus took into account.
He ran as fast as he could before stopping at the entrance of the doctors building.
Coriolanus had to make a plan… and fast.
~*~
Y/N and the others heard the commotion of something landing in the arena, followed by the sound of crunching underneath it. It was dangerous but they all inched forward as Y/N got out of the vent, watching from afar. Of course she was curious but it was the capital. There was no influence she could have but only hope for the odds and they never seemed to be in her favor.
Wovey was the first to get close
“Is it done? Can we go home?” Tears built in the little girls eyes.
The item began cracking before a sea of snake engulfed the girl like a wave upon an ocean pulling her under the tides.
All of the tributes screamed as they attempted to run for safety. There was just too many snakes, the bites would slow them down before their inevitable death due to the amount of venom flooding their system.
It was down to Coral and Y/N.
Y/N had stayed up by the vent and watched as Coral attempted to reach her but was stopped by the snakes wrapping around her arms and legs.
Then there was one.
Y/N didn’t move, maybe if she didn’t run they wouldn’t be alarmed and kill her? Maybe they would go right past. But that was hope, and she would be hypocritical to have it.
The snakes circled up her arms and legs as Y/N urged herself to calm down. This was her last few moments and she only waited for the inevitable pain of stinging bites resonating throughout her body.
It never happened.
They just slithered around her, coiling themselves as if to comfort.
~*~
Everyone was confused on why the snakes attacked everyone else but Y/N. It didn’t make sense until Coriolanus spoke up
“She calms them! You saw how empathetic she was in the interview” he looked around to see the nodding heads as he hid a smirk “They won’t hurt her. Let her out!”
Tigress yelled to let her out as well. She saw what Y/N was doing to her cousin and she couldn’t imagine what would happen if he lost her.
This brought the crowd to a chant.
Then finally, the games were over.
“The Victor of the 10th annual Hunger Games is… Y/N L/N!” Lucky announced the winner as the room cheered. Corio only talked to Tigress and Sejanus before rushing out of the room to find his love.
After all, there was no proof he cheated.
The compact was shattered upon impact with the snake container.
The white handkerchief had been deemed a tributes.
There was no evidence Coriolanus Snow and Y/N L/N cheated in the games. It was only their secret.
They say love is a weakness.
Especially in the Hunger Games.
But it made the two of them stronger. It was the two of them against the world from the start.
Snow fell in love, but what would it take to keep her with him?
The world may never know
Until the last and final part of their love story.
~*~
Note: Hey Everyone! I hope I did you guys justice with how much you liked the first part. I appreciate all the love and it greatly inspired me to write and finish this story. I know there wasn’t much fluff in this chapter but this plot had to be told.
I will be publishing a part 3 ❄️
Taglist: @diannana @olivetree420
784 notes · View notes
celiastjamesoscar · 8 months
Text
Clean
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Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader
Summary: when Natasha comes back hurt from a mission, she lets you clean her wounds.
Warnings: fluff, light cussing, mentions of sex, jokes about kidnapping, reader being a menace
My Masterlist
Word Count: 3.6K
AN: this is probably the softest fic I have ever written 💀
The sound of soft footsteps echoed throughout the compound as Natasha made her way into the kitchen. She quietly opened a cabinet and grabbed a bowl along with the box of Raisin Bran. She set the bowl down on the island before moving to the fridge and grabbing some milk, and then she made herself a bowl of cereal.
Today had been one of the rougher missions she's been on; it was supposed to be a simple bag and grab, but Hydra agents had gotten the drop on them, and she came back battered and bruised. Along with the bruises, Natasha had minor cuts littering her body, and a small jolt of pain ran through her body every time she moved.
You had warned Natasha not to go on the mission; it sounded too easy. And now, as she sat on the couch and rewatched her comfort episodes of New Girl, she wished that she had listened to you. You were always the wiser one in the relationship, and Natasha sometimes hated that about you. You would always try and talk her out of doing risky missions and she rarely listened to you. She was scared to face your wrath, so she wasted as much time as possible before entering your shared bedroom.
You had joined the Avengers as a surgeon; you were one of the country's best and met Natasha during one of her missions. She was undercover at a bar in Italy when she saw you.
It was a rowdy Friday night, and Natasha’s target was at the same bar. You had accidentally bumped into her, causing her to ruin her dress, and naturally, she was bitchy with you for it. You ushered out a plethora of apologies; you told her that you were only here because your friend had dragged you here but then left once she found someone to hook up with, causing you to be stressed, and that’s why you accidentally ran into her.
You bought her a drink as an apology, and she gladly accepted it. You wanted to talk to her, but she told you she had some business to take care of once she saw her target leave the building.
“See you in a minute, yeah?” She asked once she finished her drink and placed her hand on your arm, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Of course,” you replied, smiling as you watched the redhead leave the bar. Natasha was a willow, and she bent right to your wind, begging you to take her hand and meet her after dark.
Naturally, you didn’t see the woman again, and you felt ashamed for getting your hopes up. Eventually, you saw Natasha again in the same bar, and this time, she bought you a drink. The two of you conversed back and forth about your lives, even though you suspected she wasn’t telling you the whole truth about her job.
“I do background checks at the Smithsonian Museum in Washington,” Natasha said as she sipped her drink. You lightly laughed at her words but didn’t pry; you knew she was lying because her forest-green eyes refused to meet yours for over three seconds. You told her that you were a surgeon at one of the hospitals in New York City, and when she asked what specialty you are, you told her trauma.
The pair talked into the hours of the night, and when it came time to leave, Natasha asked you for your number, and you happily gave it to her. You spent one more week with Natasha before you returned to New York, and it was the best week of your life. You went on lunch dates with her every day she was free, and you quickly bonded with the woman.
When it came time for you to leave, you kissed Natasha’s cheek as you stood outside her apartment with a bouquet of lavender and violets. “I’m heading back to New York at 3 today, and I just wanted to say goodbye before I left,” you said with a smile, but your eyes had pain in them as you handed Natasha her flowers. She smiled at them and welcomed you into her apartment while she put them in flowers. The apartment was bare of any photos except a few that you could tell were of a fake family near the fireplace in the living room.
Take-out containers were in the trash can, while the fridge had a scarce amount of food in it. You weren’t naïve; all the signs you had picked up on that Natasha was a spy. You had dipped your toes in this line of work before; you had worked with Interpol for a year and a half before switching to medicine, so you knew all the signs.
When Natasha returned after putting the flowers in a vase, she invited you to watch a movie with her until your flight, and you gladly accepted it. When the clock hit one, you pulled your head up from Natasha’s lap and grabbed your things. “See you in a minute, Natasha,” you said as you kissed her cheek again and disappeared down the hallway.
Naturally, when Natasha returned to the States, she ran your name across all kinds of databases, and eventually, she found you. She read your file a dozen times: graduated high school as the valedictorian with enough college credit to be an incoming sophomore, finished a year early in criminal Justice, and soon worked with Interpol as a spy. You spent 18 months with Interpol before an injury threw you out, and that’s when you switched to medicine.
Just like high school, you graduated at the top of your class and got an internship at one of the best prestigious hospitals in the country. You’ve been there for roughly a year now, but you were one of the best residents there.
You weren’t even back home for three weeks when an agent from SHIELD asked you if you would like a job offer at Stark Tower. At first, you were a bit shocked at the offer, but when you entered the first floor of the Stark Building, and you saw your redhead, you knew it was her doing.
“It’s nice to see you again,” Natasha said with a sly grin as she led you through the luxurious building and toward a room with ‘T. Stark’ on the name mantle beside the door. You give her a questioning look before entering the room. “Good luck,” Natasha said gently before leaving you alone with the genius, billionaire, playboy, and philanthropist.
The interview went well, aside from the fact that Tony kept hitting on you, and you were offered the job of a head surgeon. The salary was definitely an increase, and it had much better benefits than your old job, plus, you would get to see Natasha a lot more, so of course you took the offer.
One week into your new job and Natasha asked you on a date. It was nothing fancy; a picnic date on the top of Stark Tower, but you would be lying if it weren’t the best date you’d ever been on. You two talked and drank a bottle of Dom Perignon deep into the night, and when it was time to go your separate ways, Natasha pulled you into a soft and gentle kiss. It’s been eight months since Natasha started calling you hers, and she’s never been happier.
However, as she recalls all the happy memories since the start of your beautiful and gentle relationship, she gets called back into reality when she hears soft footsteps echo off the walls. She held her breath and prepared for the scolding that she would inevitably receive, but to her surprise, it was Wanda up looking for a light night snack. “Trouble in paradise?” Wanda asked as she grabbed her own stash of pop-tarts; no one dared to mess with Thor’s.
Natasha sighed at Wanda’s words; the poor girl was on the same mission as her, and Wanda knew how badly Natasha was banged up. “No, I just know that Y/N is going to have my head when she sees how bad it is,” Natasha said with a defeated sigh as Wanda walked over to her.
The Sokovian placed her hand on Natasha’s shoulder and gently squeezed it, “I wish you the best of luck with your lady; may your survival be long,” Wanda joked as she walked off.
“May your death be quick,” Natasha mumbled under her breath once Wanda left the room. She finished up her cereal and cleaned the bowl and spoon before she tipped-toed to your shared bedroom. The Russian quietly opened the door and gently climbed into bed, wrapping her arms around your waist and pulling you into her. You sighed at the contact before subconsciously nudging your head into your girlfriend’s neck.
“Where were you?” You mumbled into the crook of Natasha’s neck before kissing her clothed collarbone. “I had an amazing day, love. I’m so glad you asked,” Natasha joked as she pulled you closer and kissed the top of your head.
You groaned at Natasha’s words before nudging your head against the redhead’s chest. “Life360 said you got home an hour ago, Nat. So where were you?” You asked as sleep left your body. Natasha knew that this conversation could go one of two ways: she could be honest with you and have you scold her, or she could lie and have you not find out until training in the morning and then have you scold her. “I'm cheating on you,” Natasha lied.
“Seriously, Natasha? I'm not going to fall for that,” you stated. The last time she had pulled that was when she snuck out at midnight to watch Barbie with Clint. When she told you she was cheating on you, you went ballistic; you were on the verge of throwing her off a cliff until you saw a pink box in her purse backpack.
“Natasha, what’s this?” You had asked as you made your way over toward her bag. She tried to stop you, but you were too quick, and you pulled out a Barbie doll from its box. “Did you go watch Barbie without me?”
“Y/N, I love you so much, but this was the only time Clint could go with me. You are so beautiful,” Natasha said while making her way over to you. “I bought you the Barbie and car the theater was selling.”
You scoffed at Natasha’s words before setting the Barbie down on your dresser along with the car. “I want to wrap my hands around your neck and not let go, but I’m going to let it slide: on one condition,” you stated as you walked back to Natasha and stopped before her.
“Yes, anything.”
“I get to be on bottom for a week, no questions asked.”
“Deal.”
See, Natasha was one of those people who will lie only when the truth sounds like a lie, and you quickly found that out after that incident.
Pulling back from the memory, Natasha wrapped her arms around you tighter and whispered, “Promise me you won’t get mad?”
“Depends on what it is,” you replied. Natasha took a deep breath and kissed your head once and then twice before speaking, “The mission went a little south today, but I’m okay.”
At the mention of the mission going wrong, you pushed yourself up and the bed and turned on the lamp next to the bed. “What happened, Natasha? Are you alright? I swear to god if someone hurt you,” you trailed off at the end at the thought of losing your lover. “I’m fine, detka. Don’t worry,” Natasha replied as she gently grabbed your hands at the hems of her shirt.
“Natasha,” you warned as your eyes pierced the other soul; she knew you could be intense, especially regarding her safety and well-being. The Russian groaned at your words before allowing you to take her shirt off, and her heart broke at the small gasp that left your lips.
“I told you it’s not bad,” Natasha joked as you pulled her into the bathroom and flipped on the lights. You motioned for her to sit on the sink while you looked through the cabinets for a first aid kit. Now that you were in better lighting, you could see all the cuts and bruises that littered your other half’s body. There was hardly enough skin that wasn't either turning a dark purple or that didn’t have a cut on it; you didn’t know whether to scold her for being so reckless or to cherish her for still being here with you.
Deciding to go with both, you gently cupped Natasha’s cheeks and pulled her into a loving kiss expressing all your love for her. She kissed you back as she wrapped her arms around your waist and slid off the sink. “I love you,” Natasha murmured against your lips as her breath fanned your lips. You kissed the words and pulled back, “I love you too, but I cannot believe you got this hurt and didn’t tell me about it! Now, get back on the sink so I can take care of you,” you said as you opened the first aid kit.
You grabbed some peroxide and put it on a cotton ball before gently pressing it against a cut on Natasha’s lower abdomen. Natasha hissed at the sting and gripped the sink’s edge as she groaned. “I told you to be careful,” you remarked as you set the cotton ball down and put some Neosporin on a bandit. “Yeah, yeah,” Natasha mumbled.
“Tell you what, for every cut I clean up, you get a kiss?” You proposed as you gently placed the bandit on Natasha’s cut. The redhead smiled at this proposition and tried to pull you into another kiss, but you put a finger to her lips, stopping her advances, “Nuh-uh, you’ve already gotten yours for this cut.”
The woman threw her hand back and groaned at your words, “Why do you hate me?” She exclaimed. You scoffed at her words as you grabbed another cotton ball and put peroxide on it, “I don’t hate you; I’m just not letting you bend the rules,” you said with a playful smile as you ignored how Natasha mumbled something under her breath.
When you placed the cotton ball on a cut near Natasha’s collarbone, applying more pressure than needed, she hissed and pushed you away from her, “Ow! What the fuck was that?!”
You rolled your eyes at Natasha’s comment before grabbing her shoulder with your left hand to keep her in place as you pressed the ball back onto her skin. “Stop being a baby, Nat, and let me clean your wounds,” you replied with a slight chuckle, causing Natasha to smack your arm. “Hey! Do not hit me, you little shit!”
“Don’t call me a baby, then!” Natasha retorted, refusing to let you clean her wounds again. You scoffed at her words and put the first aid kit back in the cabinet, and walked off to bed, “Fine, then. If you aren’t going to let me take care of you, I guess you just have to have Doctor Lee take care of you.”
Natasha froze at the mention of Doctor Lee. She’s only been to him once since you started working here, and she hated every second of it. You had the day off and were having dinner with a friend when you got a call from Natasha.
“Excuse me for a second,” you said to your friend while exiting the dining table. “What’s up, my love?” You asked when you stepped outside the restaurant and answered the phone. You had expected Natasha to ask if you would pick her up some food or maybe even ask if she could top tonight, but you didn’t expect her to scream in Russian about Doctor Lee. You had picked up a little Russian just from being around Natasha, so you knew the basic of what had happened: she had gotten a small cut on a mission that required stitches, and Lee made the cut worse, so Natasha had to get more stitches than needed and Lee complained about how rude Natasha was to her face.
Doctor Lee was a grumpy older man but was the best doctor you had ever worked with, so everyone put up with his attitude. You listened to Natasha rant about him for another five minutes before you interrupted her, “Natasha, I love you so much, but I’m going to need to get back to Kate before she thinks I left her,” you said with a small laugh when you heard Natasha groan. “Fine, let’s just hope I don’t bleed out all over our floor, and you have to clean it up,” she replied in an upset tone.
You rolled your eyes at her comment as you walked back into the restaurant, “you will be fine until I get back. If it’s that bad, I’m sure Lee can help you again.”
“He’s the one who got me into this mess!” Natasha yelled into the phone.
“Ah, so it must have been him who stabbed you then?”
The phone was silent for a few seconds before Natasha replied, “Yes.”
“Oh my god, you leave that poor man alone! He’s brilliant,” you said as you sat down at your table and across from Kate, who sent you a knowing smile. She was friends with Natasha’s sister, and she knew that the sisters shared a similar trait of exaggerating things.
“Just because he’s smart doesn’t mean he’s a good person,” Natasha retorted.
“I guess you’re right. I’ll talk to you when I get home, okay? I love you.”
“That’s if I don’t bleed out and die,” Natasha mumbled into the phone before adding with excitement, “I love you too,” before hanging up.
Natasha shook off the painful memory when she heard you get into bed and shut off the lamp. “Hey, Y/N. Wait,” Natasha said as she walked into the bedroom and sat beside you, touching your hip. “Please don’t make me go to Lee.”
You rolled over and faced Natasha, your face heating up as her hand was now on your lower abdomen, and you had to fight back your thoughts. “Are you going to complain?” You questioned. Natasha shook her head and prayed that you would finish cleaning her wounds; she would rather die than return to Lee. “Okay,” you said as you moved from the bed and walked back into the bathroom with Natasha on your heels.
“Do I still get kisses for every cut cleaned?” Natasha asked as she sat on the sink. “Maybe, if you behave,” you replied with a playful smirk as you got out the first aid kit again.
You repeated the same actions with the cotton ball as you did moments earlier and lightly pressed it onto a small cut on Natasha’s shoulder. “Do you remember when we first met?” Natasha asked randomly as you placed a bandaid on her cut. “Mhm,” you replied as you quickly kissed the Russian’s lips, holding up to your end of the deal, “the bar in Italy.”
“Yeah, but do you remember when we met again in the bar?”
You weren’t quite sure where Natasha was going with this, but you wanted to play along. “Of course. Why do you ask?”
The redhead hissed when she felt the sting of peroxide seep into her cut as you pressed the cotton against her skin. You noticed how her eyes looked everywhere but you and how she played with her fingers in her lap; she was nervous about something, and you had no idea why. “I went to that bar every single night after I first saw you,” Natasha admitted after you placed another bandaid on her.
You laughed at her words and her nervousness. “Natasha, you literally stalked me and basically kidnapped me after knowing me for a week! Why are you so nervous to admit you also stalked the bar looking for me?”
“I did not stalk you!” Natasha defended, “I just missed you so much; I searched everywhere for you and didn’t stop until I found you. And I didn’t kidnap you. You were 24 years old!”
“Mhm, if you say so, you can still kidnap an adult,” you replied as you threw away the ball and kissed Natasha again, “that looks like all the serious ones.”
Natasha frowned at your comment; she didn’t enjoy you cleaning the cuts, but she wanted the reward of your kisses. “No, I think I have some more on my back,” your girlfriend replied.
You pulled her off the sink by her hands and turned her around; there were tiny cuts over her back and some light bruises, but nothing that needed cleaning. You pressed your pointer finger into a bruise that was turning purple, “nope, looks good.”
The pain that shot through Natasha’s back when you dug your finger into her bruise was something she would never forget; she would be on her deathbed and still remember that feeling. She ducked away from your finger and turned around, “What the fuck is wrong with you?! That hurt!”
“That’s what you get for ‘adultnapping’ me,” you replied as you put up the first aid kit and left the bathroom. The older woman was right on your heels after turning off the lights, “Don’t act like it wasn’t the best crime ever.”
The sound of laughter bounced around the room as you climbed into bed and opened your arms for Natasha, and she quickly crawled into your grasp, laying her head on your chest. “We were jet-set; Bonnie and Clyde, huh?” You replied and placed a kiss on Natasha's head. “Mhm. I’m just glad you didn’t turn me in for the crime,” Natasha mumbled against your collarbone as sleep slowly took her.
“Of course not, my love,” you replied as you kissed Natasha’s head and rubbed her back as sleep consumed you; slowly drifting off with the love of your life in your arms.
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AN: I rushed this and I kinda hate it but oh well 💀
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f1driverszona · 4 months
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Ca you do Dark!Jenson button but when he was still a driver? Like he got interested with a reporter who is so innocent, kind and nervous around others and he just wanted her all too himself. He would also get jealous if she was interviewing other drivers. One day when she was supposed to interview him, he said he wanted to do it in private but he took her up to his driver's room and they did the dirty. Also smut please 🤭
Innocent mind || J.B
Dark jenson button x innocent reader
Warnings— dark jenson, manipulation, smut, innocent kink, breeding kink, unprotected sex, slight non con, fingering
Summary: jenson was sure you were his person and what better way to keep you tied to him than getting you pregnant?
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“ hello darling” you hear jenson smooth voice say to you as he comes over to you, getting hand a microphone as you were interviewing him pre race. He had a devish smirk on his handsome face adoring the blush coating your round soft cheeks, his gaze drifted down your figure seeing you in a light blue long dress with white flowers.
You looked gorgeous, you always do in his vision especially with how innocent you were, god it does things to him. He craves to wreck your pure aura around you and take you until he is satisfied, yet another bit of him wanted to protect how innocent you were. Sometimes in his head he would picture him coming home from a race to you his pretty innocent wife swelled with his baby in your stomach.
“ hi jenson, so how are you feeling about the upcoming race?” You meekly ask him, he mentally cooed seeing you looking up at him with shiny eyes yet he took notice of you twirling you dainty ring, a tell sign that you were nervous.
He charmly replied to you, “ don’t want to jinx it but I feel like I will get good results especially if I have a pretty girl supporting me” he winks at you smiling widely seeing you blush again, adorable yet sexy at the same time. You were like a little vixen to him.
Soon you wrapped the interview up saying a way too quick goodbye for his liking as you rush to interview Lewis before they head into their cars. He glares at you two but mostly Lewis seeing you blush, his blush at something Lewis says. He hates it, you belong to him the very moment he saw you in the paddock.
He needs to do something, he can’t have someone sweep you off your feet and ditch him, even though you guys aren’t even… anything. He smirks darkly before getting in his car.
………………………………
“ and there goes Lewis and jenson, colliding, both getting sent to the barriers!”
You worriedly stare at the screen seeing the accidental collision, luckily it didn’t look bad but still made you worry. “ that’s rough, they both were going so good to!” Your friend may tells you coming to stand next to you.
“Y-yeah hope both of them are okay” you sigh biting your lip, “ anyway you should go don’t you have to interview jenson?” May asks you as your eyes widen, “ yes! Gotta go, bye!”.
You quickly go to the place your suppose to do the interview but this one doesn’t involve cameras just you and jenson, you get your note book ready to write what he says and see the questions you have to ask him, you jump when someone put there hand on your back, “ woah, darling just me” jenson chuckles at you.
“ oh sorry! You scared me” you tried to giggle it off as jenson stares at you with a soft look.
“ I was thinking we can do the interview in my drivers room where it’s colder” jenson suggested yet it kind of was more of a demand, “ u-uh I don’t k-know” you purse your lips, you guarantee if you went to his drivers room and he’s his usual flirty self you would embarrass yourself.
“ c’mon yn, no harm done if we do it in there” he tells you in a hard voice and using no pet name, something in you are you want to submit to his dominant voice so you did, nodding at him shyly making him smile brightly “ great, come on darling” he takes your hand in yours, guiding you to his room.
Getting in the space you go to turn around but is instead pushed on the small sofa in jenson driver’s room, you gasp in surprise. “ j-jenson what—“ he cuts you off with slamming his lips against your, kissing you feverishly as he gets on top off you.
You try to not give in so you trie to push him off you but he was so much stronger, he undos his belt and wraps it around your wrists putting them behind your head, “ nu huh, your not ruining this for me sugar, I know you want me to” his lip attach to the jugular of your throat, sucking harshly making you hiss but you couldn’t help yourself and let out a little whimper that he heard and smirked against your throat.
When he was content on how many marks he has left on your neck, he quickly got you out of your dress pulling it over your tied hands leaving you vulnerable only in your baby pink Lacey set. “ fuck, you’re beautiful, my beautiful girl” he says to you and much to your dismay you blushe.
You try to wiggle when he goes to take your underwear off, not wanting him to see your actually soak. He slaps your thigh making you jump as he glares at you, “ now, now. Don’t start being a brat, no one likes brats” he tutted, kissing your knee when you complied. “ good girl”.
“ look at how wet you are, my darling” he chuckles mockingly sliding one of his fingers over your slit making you whimper and buckle your hips up wanting more, what’s happening to you? You want him to touch you desperately…
He inserts two of his fingers in you making you moan softly as he fingers you deeply but kinda softly, “ oh g-god..” you whined as he laughs breathlessly, “ no god here sugar, jenson. Say it” he demands yet you were to caught up in the pleasure, he took his fingers out of you making you whine out of protest with tears welling in your eyes.
“ jenson.. please I need you..” you softly say breathless with the familiar blush coating your cheeks, he smirks at you but doesn’t give you his fingers. Instead you feel something much bigger brush against your stimulated clit, making you moan as he gently pushes in you. You didn’t even notice that he took his pants and boxers off.
Jenson grunts feeling you taking him in, he thrusts in you making you both moan. “ been dreaming on this forever” he groans as you continue to moan, “ p-please g-go faster” you beg needing more.
“ such good manners, of course my darling girl” he speeds up, grunting and deep raspy moans flying from his mouth as he did so. He sloppy kisses you hard on the mouth, your tongues colliding together with teeth’s clashing. Moaning in each other mouths as you both could feel your releases coming soon.
“ go-gonna c-cum” you moan loud making him cover your mouth, as much as he would love for people to hear your his. He knows it’s probably not the best decision so he will stick to people just seeing his marking on your neck.
“ c-cum with me darling” he pinches your clit making you jolt as you cum, he bites your neck to muffle his sounds as he slams in you cumming deep in you.
He pulls out as his cum seeps out of your whole making him quickly shove it back in you with his fingers as you tremble from the overstimulation. He sighs contently, he’s got you where he wants you now.
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babygirlmurdock · 2 months
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Confessions
Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader
Summary: Foggy drops a very drunk Matt on your doorstep one night, which leads to confessions.
Word Count: 2.1k
Warnings: Swearing, Alcohol Consumption
a/n: Got this idea from the writing prompt: “You're drunk." "Yes. And hopelessly in love with you." - from @creativepromptsforwriting and I love a little “i hate accidents except when we went from friends to this” (iykyk). Also I was listening to You Are In Love by Taylor Swift writing this, although it doesn’t have direct correlation, I just love that song LOL. Please enjoy<3
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You were sound asleep until you heard a loud ringtone erupt from your bedside table. There’s only one person whose calls surpass your do not disturb.
Matt.
You saw his contact photo and answered groggily, “hello?”
“Hey,” this was not Matt’s voice. “Matt’s, uh, really drunk right now. Someone had the great idea to do shots tonight…” Foggy was trying his best to sound normal over the phone, but he was clearly not sober.
You sat up, scrubbed your hand over your face and glanced over to your clock. 2:17 am. “Foggy, it’s 2 in the morning, I have work tomorrow, you can’t get Matt back to his apartment?” You complained to him. Matt was your closest friend. Grew up going to the same church in Hell’s Kitchen. He was kind of the loner kid, so one day you befriended him and you’ve been close ever since.
“He keeps saying he wants to see you! He kept babbling your name, so we’re about a block away from your apartment now. See you in a few!” Foggy cheerfully said not really giving you a choice.
“Foggy wai—aaand he hung up. Great,” you said to yourself before putting your phone back on your bedside table. You put on the closest sweatpants you found on your floor and one of your sweatshirts. After you found your slippers, you putzed downstairs to retrieve your inebriated friend. When you got outside, you heard the boys laughing from half way down the block. You sat on your stairs leading to your apartment while you waited for your two bumbling idiots.
Matt slurred your name as he approached and almost ate shit half jogging to you. “Jesus christ, Matt be careful it’s dark out here,” you scolded him.
“It’s all dark to me,” Matt laughed at you.
“Alright I walked into that, dick. Hey, thanks for bringing him at least… here. I’ll hydrate him and make sure he’s okay for work tomorrow,” you gave a ‘you owe me’ look over to Foggy as he said goodbye to you. You and Matt made your way up to your apartment.
You closed the door behind you after Matt stumbled in, took his glasses off and put them in his jacket pocket then put his cane on the wall. “Thank you for taking me in tonight, you’re a really good person,” Matt said, pulling you in for a hug.
“God, Murdock, you wreak of tequila,” you pulled away from his strong hug. “I’m gonna bitch Foggy out tomorrow for getting you this drunk on a work night. Why don’t you try to take a shower, I still have an old boyfriend’s sweats in my drawer. They should fit you,” you heard Matt huff as you went to your bedroom to grab the sweats and one of his shirts you stole from him and never gave back.
You knocked on the bathroom door and shouted that you left the shirt and sweats outside the door when he’s done. You went to the kitchen to grab aspirin and make him a Liquid IV mocktail. You really didn’t care if he was going hate the taste of it, it’s nearly 2:30 AM and you want him to go to sleep on your couch quickly. You heard the shower shut off and the door open and close again assuming Matt grabbed the clothing you provided him.
“Your body wash smells girly,” Matt commented as he made his way over to the couch to sit next to you.
“It’s almost like I am a girl… here drink this, take these. You know how I get with people puking and I don’t need any of that tomorrow morning and I know how pissy you get when you have a headache,” you handed Matt the glass and put the pills in his hand.
Matt put the pills in his mouth and swallowed them with the electrolyte mixture you gave him only to have him twist his face in disgust. “What is this? This isn’t water!” Matt protested holding the glass out to you signaling he didn’t want anymore.
“It’s liquid IV, it’s electrolytes. Supposed to hydrate you faster, a coworker suggested them for me when I had the stomach bug. Drink it,” You sternly said. You swore taking care of drunk Matt was like taking care of a stubborn toddler that didn’t want to eat their vegetables. He rolled his eyes and took another gulp out of the glass.
“You know, you should come out with the firm. Instead of being a stick in the mud,” Matt suggested, leaning into you. You huffed out in annoyance.
“Sorry I like my 8 hours of sleep and I’m not my own boss, sue me!” You threw your hands up in protest, “which my sleep is being rudely interrupted by the way.”
Matt leaned in a little closer to you, “your voice goes higher when you get mad at me.” You felt his body get close to you in a way that didn’t feel platonic. “And you breathe faster.”
“Most people breathe faster when they’re inconvenienced, Matt,” you tried to steady your breathing, trying not to sound flustered.
You and Matt knew each other on such a deep level that no one else got you like him and vise versa. Matt trusted you with his secrets and you trust him with yours. You were his first friend in the church. Learning about his dad’s death, being the first one to know he got into his top law school and staying up with him to help him study for the Bar Exam. You’ve been through everything together.
You’d be moronic to think that Matt wasn’t attractive. This man pulls any woman that he wants and you have to be the one to hear about the women he brings home. Whether that be positive or negative. You never thought about your friendship with him other than strictly platonic. Other than that one time you were dared to kiss him when you were 9 on the playground but you both always said that never counted as a real kiss because it was just a peck anyway. But to you, it was your first kiss. You loved telling the other girls at school that you kissed sweet Matt Murdock under the slide at recess.
Seeing Matt date these other girls but never give you the chance seemed like you two were just platonic. Nothing more. Plus you’re not his type, you’ve seen the women he has dated. Supermodel type. Not you. So you buried that feeling deep, deep down and hoped one day it would never be dug up again.
“You know I can hear your heart,” Matt said your name in a husky tone. “And it’s beating awfully loud…” Matt’s face was dangerously close to yours. Mere inches away from one another.
“You know— you know I don’t like when you listen to my heartbeat without my consent, Matthew.”
“And I like it when you call me Matthew. I like the sound of your voice. Have I ever told you that?” Matt’s eyebrows rose up as he drunkingly smirked at you.
“Matt, you’re drunk. I’m going to bed,” you stood up from the couch to make your way to your room.
“I’m in love with you.”
Those words made you stop dead in your tracks. “You—huh?” You whipped around looking at him in disbelief.
“I am. In love with you,” Matt looked up upon you. “Have been for the past few years now. I just never knew how to tell you. And—and I went out with Foggy tonight and ended up drinking way more than I remember. He was the first one to know. He finally pushed me tonight to say something to you. That’s why I’m here. I didn’t want to tell you. I never wanted to ruin our friendship. You’re so special to me, I—I didn’t want to fuck this up.” Matt’s voice slowly started to gain sobriety the more he spoke.
“Matty– I…” you trailed off. Matt Murdock is in love with you. You never thought you’d hear the words you buried come from his mouth.
Before you could finish, Matt cut you off, “I understand if you don’t feel the same. But you have to tell me now so I can get over it. Get over you.”
“No I.. I just—I need to process this information. When did you start feeling this way?” You sat down in the arm chair across from your couch.
“Maybe a few years ago. I always thought you were one of the best people I know. But those platonic thoughts… eventually turned… romantic. Specifically when you came to me with nowhere to go when your ex boyfriend kicked you out after he found out that you were still friends with me and Foggy. God, I hated hearing about him. You deserved better. I learned that night, holding you, while you cried, that I loved you more than a friend. But then came more flings, then I realized you probably didn’t feel the same way. So those feelings were shoved down. Until now,” Matt’s head hung low, looking like he regretted everything that was spewed out of his mouth. Word vomit is better than actual vomit. Although, you felt like you were actually going to vomit.
You stared at him, your heart felt like it was going to come up out of your throat. You knew you felt the same way. But god forbid you dated, and broke up, you didn’t want to lose him. You cherished him so much. The dead air hung there waiting to be brought back to life.
“Please say something,” Matt begged you.
“Matt, I’ve felt this way about you for years. But being me, I never wanted to say anything because I feared losing you,” your voice cracked as your continued, “I feared dating you and potentially breaking up and never having you in my life again.”
You knew Matt could hear your heartbeat out your chest. Your mind was going a million miles a minute processing this. The wave of relief hit Matt like a tsunami. He looked up with his eyes glossy with tears. You got up, made your way to the couch and sat down next to him.
“I don’t want to jump into a relationship with you right away though. I want to be really cautious. I want to kiss you in the worst way but—“
“So do it,” Matt interrupted you.
“If you’d let me finish—“
“I will be doing plenty of that,” Matt smirked at you.
“Shut up and listen to me! I want to kiss you, but I want to take this really slow, Matty. My last long term relationship, as you know, tore me apart. And I’m still healing from that. Doesn’t mean I’m not over him, because I am. But I’m so scared of being kicked out of the blue,” you said looking into his eyes. Your heart was steady and loud. Which meant you were being really serious. You didn’t want to dive in head first and say to the world you were boyfriend & girlfriend.
“Okay. We can do that. Whatever it takes to do this right, sweetie. That being said, can I take you on a date? There’s a wine bar that just opened we can go to. I know how much you love your wine,” Matt teased you about your love for wine.
“Yes you can take me on a date, Matty. I’d love to. Saturday?” You smiled at him. Your first date with Matt Murdock. You’ve only dreamed about him taking you out on a date. “I feel like a teenager right now. My first date with you!” You said all giddy.
Matt laughed at you, “Saturday. It’s a date. it’s cute when you get all flustered. Don’t think I haven’t noticed that over the last few years.”
“What the fuck? I thought I was hiding that so well!” You exclaimed.
“You have to remember,” Matt leaned, inches away from your face, “I can hear everything.”
“Fuck, you’re making it so hard not to kiss you. Not until after the first date though,” you tapped his nose with your finger teasingly.
“Already breaking my heart,” Matt pouted and put his hand over his heart dramatically. You laughed at him. Everything started to look like it was in technicolor. It started making sense. All those years ago, Matt touching your arm lingering his fingers. Him always complimenting you in such poetic ways. None of it was accidental. He wanted you in the same ways all along. You were too oblivious to notice his actions. You couldn’t wait until Saturday to have your first date with Matthew Murdock.
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tags: @yarrystyleeza
I feel like this fic can potentially have a set up for a part to for our reader and Matt on their first date? 👀
All credit to the original gif owner!
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missviviii · 4 months
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i’m absolutely obsessed with grumpy x sunshine ship dynamic so i would love to see if you could write about mizu having a partner who is super energetic and excited while she’s always annoyed.
maybe at first mizu didn’t care for the reader at first but ringo insists on having reader tag along (maybe they are a healer or archer? it doesn’t matter to me!) then mizu slowly starts liking the reader the more she gets to know her? but reader is oblivious and doesn’t pick up on the hints even though it’s obvious mizu like her
sorry it’s so long 😭 i’m so in love with mizu it’s not funny i’m in the trenches right now
a/n: oooh alright!! 🫶 i love this ideaa
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“The Sunshine to the Darkness”
warning(s): swearing
summary: poor mizu has been dropping hints here and there but you, my dear reader, are oblivious to them.
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You stumbled across Mizu that very day she was fighting the Four Fangs. You were an archer, a rather good one at that. But what were your arrows to their swords? So you stayed in the distance, raining down arrows upon them when they got too close to Mizu.
Mizu could not tell who was helping her, distracting the Four Fangs long enough for her to attack them off guard. Yet she was grateful for your help, you managed to save her from quite a few blows that would’ve put her in a much worse condition.
You were doing fine staying back from the fight, that was until you saw a man (Taigen) approaching Mizu just as she killed Bloodsoaked Chiaki and badly wounded. You thought he was going to kill her the moment she fell unconscious from her injuries and blood loss, so you jumped into action. You shot at him, sending an arrow his way, in which he managed to dodge at the last minute.
Ringo appeared just then, tackling Taigen to the ground and demanding to know what happened to Mizu. You hopped off the rocks you were standing on and jumped onto the ground, running over to Mizu and checking her injuries.
“Is my master okay?! Oh no, he needs medicine and help!” Ringo said as he lifted Mizu onto his back. He told you to come and follow him and keep Mizu sitting upright on the horse while they went to a nearby abandoned temple to tend to Mizu’s injuries. You sat on a horse, Mizu behind you with her arms around your waist.
Her eyes opened weakly, finding herself now on a horse and her head lying on someone’s shoulder. You. Mizu looked down, noticing the bow on your side. So you are that archer Mizu thought. And then her tired eyes closed once again.
Mizu woke up once again, this time on a bedroll with you hovering over her with a concerned look. You gasped, realizing she’s up. “You’re awake! Oh my goodness, I thought you were dead!” You loudly exclaimed, helping her sit up. Mizu groaned, both from the pain and your loud voice.
“Gah, shut up, will you? So loud..” Mizu grumbled as Ringo walked over to her and handed her a bowl of medicine to drink. You sheepishly smiled, whispering a soft ‘sorry’ before you stood up and walked over to her clothes. She looked at you. That smile, that little smile. Why did it make her stomach do jumps and flips?
“Here, I sewed up your clothes again. They were ripped and in bad condition so I thought I’d fix them for you.” You placed her clothes, neatly folded, beside her. Mizu looked at you, but didn’t say a word. You hummed, waving Ringo goodbye before you walked outside to see what was Taigen doing.
Ringo looked at Mizu, who was drinking her medicine with a disgusted look on her face. “Master, I think they should stick around with us! They would make a great addition to the team, and they can use the bow and arrow!” Ringo was excited, if you joined the team, you could travel with them and help Mizu! Mizu looked at him, a bit annoyed he’d suggest to drag another person when she could barely stand him.
But somehow, Ringo managed to convince Mizu. Eventually, she reluctantly agreed, allowing you to tag along. Ringo was ecstatic since he liked having you around. Mizu acted like she was annoyed and tried not to pay attention to your shenanigans, but the thing is, she did pay attention. To your smiles, to the jokes you told, to the way you would squeal when you find some cute little charm, and how you were so eager to move in the morning when everyone was still drowsy.
“Hey,” Mizu says while you were looking at jewelry a local stall owner had on display when you and the group were passing by a village. She held out a hairpin, a beautiful one with blue flowers and small diamonds on it. You looked up at her, a bit confused by the gesture. Or why she’s looking away with her hand hiding her flushed cheeks. “I got it for you. You were staring at it very intently..”
You squealed, taking the hairpin and holding it up with a big smile. “Mizu! You didn’t have to! Oh my lord, it’s so pretty!” You smiled, wrapping your arms around her tightly. Mizu’s eyes widened, caught off guard by the sudden hug. Sure you hugged her plenty of times, but this one just hit different. She put on hand on your back as she muttered ‘you’re welcome’. “You’re such a good friend!” Oh, you oblivious little— That hit her a little bit.
Taigen walked over just then, busy eating something until he noticed you hugging Mizu. You, the sunshine of the group and probably the loudest beside him, were allowed to hug Mizu? The closed off, cold-hearted Mizu? Oh there was something fishy.
“The fuck is happening over here? You two getting ready to go out and party or what?” Taigen walked over to the two of you with a suspicious look. You looked at Taigen, clearly beaming as you showed him the hairpin Mizu bought you. Taigen looks back at Mizu, who was pretending to be looking at something else. He connected the puzzle pieces together and— OH. Mizu liked you. He almost smirks, looking at Mizu who was clearly side-eying him with poison in her eyes.
You were so oblivious, so dense. Mizu would never let anyone touch her besides you, much less buy a gift with actual sincerity behind it for someone.
Poor Mizu has been attempting to drop hints for you, yet you never catch on. She lets you sleep on her bedroll, carries you on her back when you complain you’re tired, buys you things you like—hell she even lets you touch her and cling onto her. And you unfortunately did not catch on. How is someone so smart like you yet so oblivious?
“Are you this dense?” Mizu asks out of the blue one day while the two of you were sparring. You looked at her weirdly, confused by what she meant. How did that have anything to do with what you two were doing now?
“Is this your way of calling me dumb or..?” You’re re puzzled, confused by what she means by dense. She’s the one that’s dense, right? You keep trying to show that you like her by doing things like sewing her clothes, buying her charms to carry around on her sword, and taking care of her when she’s sick yet she doesn’t get the hint. You snapped back to reality, jumping off the ground as Mizu aims the wooden blade towards your legs.
Mizu groans, both from annoyance of not being able to hit you and you also being far too oblivious. “No, I’m saying your ass is oblivious-“ she says as she blocks your wooden sword from swinging at her face. You took a step back. Oblivious? About what?
“I dunno. Is there something you need to tell me?” You asked, to which she replied with a soft huff.
“God you’re dumb. You idiot, I like you!” Mizu yells as she stabs her wooden sword into the grass below her feet. She runs her hand over her face, flabbergasted at how oblivious you were. These past few weeks, she’s been passing numerous hints, giving you special privileges, even doing things with you that are a tad bit too friendly to be considered ‘just friends’. And you don’t fucking notice!
It took you a few moments to process that. That it hits you. Her being extremely nice to you were actually hints and little clues! “OH- I thought you were being a good fri—“
Before you could even finish that line, Mizu tackled you onto the ground and slammed her lips against yours. Your hands immediately went to her waist, while her hands ran all over your body. The kiss was rough, almost like she was starving.
Finally she pulled away, out of breath and her face red. “Don’t even think about saying that line ever again. I’ve heard enough of it.”
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abbyromanoff · 5 months
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PAIRINGS: Emily Prentiss x bsf’s child!reader
WORD COUNT: 2704
WARNINGS: smut, anal play, kinda dark Emily, manipulation, poorly written smut tbh, innocence kink, possessiveness, fingering, multiple orgasms, Mommy (E), squirting, cnc, somnophillia, R is JJ’s kid, think that’s all :)
NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN!!
“Love you, Mom. Bye, guys!” Emily watched as you kissed your mom goodbye, the sweet gesture causing her to grin. You waved to the group, walking through the glass door and heading towards the elevator. She knew it was now or never, this was her chance to make her move.
“Alright, I think it’s about time I get home. Why don’t you guys get an early night?” She was usually the last to leave, which is what confused the team. JJ furrowed her brows, spinning in her chair to face the older woman.
“You never go home early, not even on Friday nights.” She noted before a smirk took over her face. “Unless, Emily has somewhere to be.” She teased, causing Garcia to coo as she took a seat next to the blonde. She rolled her eyes, eyeing the clock as she estimated the time of your arrival.
“I didn’t sleep much last night, I’m tired.”
“And why didn’t you sleep much, hm? Were you too busy, say, entertaining other parties?” She flipped the woman off before disappearing past the doors, cursing herself for staying so late before rushing to her car. She started the engine in no time, instantly pulling out of her spot as she followed the coordinates. Her mind never once left you, and she started to worry if she absentmindedly blew a light or took a wrong turn. But she didn’t care, all she wanted was to get home to you.
Her fist came pounding on the wooden door, her gaze falling on every crack and seam that could be used as easy entry, she’d have to warn you about those.
“Em? I, uh, what are you doing here?” You questioned, only to be silenced as she pushed you into your flat, shutting the door behind her while your back hit the cold wall.
“What the fuck, Em-” She cut you off quickly, placing her fingers atop your lips as your breaths became the only sound to fill the room.
“There’s someone after you, and I’m here to protect you.” You furrowed your brows together, kicking away her digit as she towered over you. Her gray hair framed her face, and every line only showed her experience.
“Wha- Why isn’t my mom here, then?” She bit her lip, causing you to repeat yourself. She knew she had to act fast before threatening your trust in her lie.
“They don’t know, okay? Look, you have to trust me-”
“No, I want to know what the fuck is going on.” You pushed, scoffing when she remained silent for far too long. She shoved your shoulders back, forcing you to remain still as she took a moment to admire your expressions in a time of such weakness.
“There’s someone from my past that- that the team doesn’t exactly know about, and when I parked here last week to give you back that sweater you forgot at your mom’s, I noticed his car and I saw him leave the moment he saw me. I- I can’t risk putting you in danger, and since I already have, I’m going to do everything in my power to protect you from it.” It wasn’t entirely false, there was a time in her life when she was haunted by her past, causing her arrival in Paris. But that was when you were so young, you wouldn’t remember a single thing, which she used to her advantage.
“You don’t need to believe me, but all I ask is that you let me stay here, and you let me protect you.” You bit back a snarl and sighed, brushing her off as you brought yourself to the couch.
“I don’t have a spare, you can take the bed.”
“No, this is your place, I’m not going to take that from you. I say we share but if that’s not what you want, then I’ll have the couch.” She debated, crossing her arms over her chest as she examined the building. She wanted it to seem like she was checking in fear of danger, but really she was trying to get a picture-perfect memorization over every inch. That way she could have a better view from beneath her blankets when her fingers were buried deep inside of her.
“Fine, we’ll share.” You mumbled, clicking through endless amounts of channels before losing hope and tossing the remote to the side.
“You don’t have to stand there like a brick wall, you know. We’ve known each other since I was little, you’re allowed to speak.” She took a breath before taking the spot next to you, adjusting her suit jacket before ruffling it off. Your eyes fell to the biceps threatening to break past the tight blouse, but looked away before she could spot you, little did you know she knew the entire time.
“So, you graduated correct?” You nodded, leaning on your hand as your elbow rested on the wooden frame of the sofa. “What was your major again? Psychology?”
“Yeah, I guess I just really wanted to follow down my Mom’s footsteps.” She mimicked your pose, letting the tightness in her muscles loosen with a sigh.
“Well, I think she’d be very proud of her little girl following her lead. In fact, JJ goes on and on about how lucky she is to have a child like you, and I agree, she is quite lucky.” She chuckled at your darkened cheeks, using her thumb to stroke the soft skin after brushing a hair out of the way. It felt right being with you like this, everything seemed to feel right with you. She didn’t know why, no brain she studied had ever given her a clear image as to what differed from hers. She just felt so protective over you, she didn’t want anyone else to get close to you. Knowing you were here, all alone, with no protection until she arrived, it scared her more than she could express.
“I don’t know about that,”
“I mean it! Anyone would be so happy to have someone like you in their life, not only are you such a hard worker, but you’re also the sweetest person I know. Just don’t tell your Mom I said that, she thinks she’s my favorite.” You laughed, slapping her chest lightly as you felt your chest warm. You instinctively shuffled closer, your feet digging under her legs to search for warmth while her hand rubbed your thigh softly to provide you heat.
“Now I feel bad for yelling at you by the door.” You admitted, bringing her to scoff playfully, showing that she wasn’t truly mad at you.
“Oh, don’t stress it, love, I would be pretty annoyed if someone came pounding at my door too.” You gave her a soft smile, letting the comforting silence embrace the both of you before you leaned your head onto her shoulder. She kissed the top of your head gently, getting a small whiff of your shampoo, making her hum in delight.
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An hour later she found herself lying next to you, sighing as the comfort of the sheets embraced her. You were in the next room brushing your teeth, and she didn’t try to stop herself as she peeked under the short bottoms you wore.
“I’m keeping my gun nearby, I hope that’s alright with you.” You crawled next to her, tossing the covers over your frame as you shut off the small lamp. She did the same, frowning as your back turned to face her.
“Yeah, that’s okay.” She hesitated before wrapping her arms around your tired body, letting her face press into your neck with a soft smile. You stiffened but eventually relaxed in her hold. You let yourself fall into a slumber, a peaceful sensation falling over you as images flashed through your mind regularly.
Emily admired the softness in your small snores, she felt grateful to be let in, but she felt worried at how easily you let her pass by with a lie. Anyone could’ve made up something similar and got free entrance, she was just lucky you knew her well enough to trust her.
She knew there was no hope in holding back now, this is what she came to do, to make you hers. She didn’t care if you were her best friend's child, you were old enough to make your own decisions and she was going to lead you into making the right one.
“‘M sorry, baby girl, I promise I’ll make you enjoy it.” Her fingers trailed below your large shirt as they pinched your sore nipples, her breath coming out shallow as her eyes fluttered shut. She pressed her crotch into your backside, letting her false cock rut into you.
“You wouldn’t mind if I just,” She brought them lower, causing her palm to rub against your clit as she teased your tight hole. “Touch you right here, would ya’, baby?”
She wished you were as pure as she wanted you to be, she wanted to be your first but could easily tell that she wasn’t. Instead, she let herself picture it late at night when she was all alone. She’d draw her digits in-and-out of you while you clung onto her, begging her to let you cum for the first time. She hoped you thought about it too, but she doubted it. She could read anyone, but you were like a closed book someone forgot to pick up.
“Fuck, you’re so warm, I could stay like this forever.” She inhaled the residue of your perfume and lotion, they were fading but she basked in all of it. She could feel her wetness grow, biting her lip as she continued to grind into your backside. The strap teased her clit, bringing her great ounces of pleasure.
“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this.” She kissed down your shoulder blade as her mouth parted, a loud moan escaping her. You shuffled in your sleep, your eyes fluttering open as you adjusted to the dark room with minimal light coming from the window. You gasped, your hand falling to meet her touch. Her fingers were plunged deep inside of you, thrusting in and out as you gushed around her.
“F…fuck! Em, g-get off,” She chuckled, using her free hand to rid you of your bottoms completely. A slap came to your ass, eliciting a groan from your end.
“If you really wanted me to stop, you would’ve left by now.” You looked down, noticing she was no longer keeping you hostage in her hold. You still didn’t move, gulping as you settled in. Truth was, you had a crush on the older woman since your teen years. It was normal in the beginning, that was until you moved out and your loneliness grew. With the loneliness came a deep arousal that was unable to be removed, the only way to cure it was desperate women at the bar that reminded you of the woman. Your fingers were never enough, but you knew hers would be more than needed.
“Please, Emily-“ You chewed your lower lip, regretting the words the moment they left you. She smirked through a chuckle, sighing as she slowed her pace, bringing a high-pitched whine from past your lips.
“What was that? Please, what, Y/N?” When you came up unresponsive, she repeated her question, slowing even further until she was stilled completely.
“No- d-do that again, please,” Your hand lowered under your shirt as you palmed at your chest, shuddering as your sensitive nipples hardened to a peak.
“Mm, aren’t I already giving you what you want? I thought you wanted me to stop, so I stopped.” You couldn’t bear to face her, not in this moment, not in this level of heat.
“I…I want you to keep going, it feels really, really fucking good.” She hummed, and that’s when you felt the strap pressed into you. You were so consumed in the threshold of her long digits, you failed to notice what else she was planning.
“God, I want to fuck this ass so damn bad. You want that? You want Mommy to fuck your tight ass, yeah?” Her breath was ragged, her lips in a frenzy on your neck. You choked out a whimper, nodding your head slowly as you mumbled a small agreement.
“Would I be the first, hm? Is Mommy going to be the first to stretch out this little hole?” She lowered her pants, the fabric tight against her skin as they were a borrowed pair from you. You insisted she got out of the jeans she wore to work, even if they fit her body perfectly.
“You’re the first, Mommy.” That was all the permission she needed as she thrusted her hips forward, the tip teasing your hole in a rough, yet gentle manner. Her lips came close to your ear, her teeth sinking into the skin as you yelped in pain.
“Oh, don’t I love making you cry like a whiny little bitch.” She eased in the first few inches for what felt like years but only lasted a few minutes. It felt painful, as if there was a fire pooling inside of you. That was until it slowly started turning pleasant, causing a satisfying sensation to take over you. Her digits slid in and out of you slowly, her thumb taking to rub your clit in small circles, but it was enough to cause your brain to fog up. Your tongue peeked its way past your lips, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as your hips had a mind of your own, grinding against both penetrating objects.
“Such a good fucking girl, Mommy loves her little girl so much.” You cried out, gripping her arm tightly as you shoved your face into the pillow to muffle the noises she forced out of you.
“No, no, you’re going to let me hear every single moan and whimper and cry; I’m not letting you off that easily.” Her length was now more than halfway through the barrier you set. You followed her hand, feeling a small bulge touching the surface. You pushed yourself impossibly closer to her, letting out a weak whimper.
“Mommy, I,” Your legs shook as you clenched tightly around her, soaking her fingers in your sweet nectar.
“It’s okay, baby, make a mess all over me. That’s it, Mommy is so proud of you, sweetheart.” She drove her hips with a harsher pace, watching as your hole squeezed her until she could barely move. She didn’t stop her ministrations, making you twitch in excitement and pain.
“It’s t-too much, Mommy.” She rubbed your clit faster, her groan evident as your juices sprayed across the sheets. You wept loudly, not caring for the neighbor's complaints the next day, they already disliked you, there was no point in trying to amend that.
“No, it’s not. You can go back to sleep, dove, Mommy just wants to play for a little bit longer.” You both knew there was no possibility of you resting after this, you’d both be continuing until the sun rose.
“Your Mom is going to fucking kill me, but, God, I want to taste you so bad.” Your eyes widened as you remembered the plans you and your mother were having the next day. She was supposed to come over for lunch before the two of you would leave to go shopping as she insisted you needed decorations for your new apartment. Emily couldn’t be here when she arrived, she’d instantly get an understanding of who left the dark marks over your neck, anyone who saw you would easily be able to guess the activities that were to be had the night prior, but it didn’t help that it was her job to read people like books.
“I don’t care, just fuck me, Mommy…please?” The moment you spoke she knew she was going to fulfill whatever request you made, and your small, tired voice only proved that. She bit her tongue, leaning close as she placed her digits on your lower lip, dragging it down as you took the offering with a grateful sigh.
“Whatever my girl wants, they get.”
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