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obsessivevoidkitten · 1 year

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The Landlord’s Property

Male Alpha Landlord x Female Omega Reader (CW: Non-con, overstimulation, oral sex, vaginal sex, female reader, crying, reader tied up, a/b/o dynamics, fingering, praise, general yandere behavior, scenting, musk, pheromones, chloroformed reader, panty stealing, biting, claiming) Word Count: 7.2k (This may be the longest fic I have ever written, certainly up there, I hope everyone enjoys it, it was a commission from @dusty-void)

You stared blankly at the computer screen, your face illuminated by the harsh white glow of your writing program, completely empty, in front of you. Though you had been trying for hours you could simply not will your brain into action and get any words typed out, now that it was past 3am in the morning you let out a defeated sigh as it had become painfully clear that simply no work was going to get done tonight. You were a freelance writer. You worked from home completing various assignments from content mills, websites, and even dabbled in short stories. The pay was not particularly glamorous, but you had managed to find a very cheap duplex to rent, and it helped that your landlord was very lenient and did not seem to mind that your rent payments were frequently just a bit late. Though you were still always worried about what would happen if he suddenly decided he had had enough. You turned off your computer and settled into your unkempt nest, hoping in vain that you could put your worries aside and be able to sleep peacefully for once. When you woke up from your fitful sleep you realized that you had actually managed to wake up later than you had intended. Feeling almost as if you had not slept at all you forced yourself up from bed and threw on some low effort clothing, you were just going to be alone and in the house all day so you figured it did not really matter what you wore. After getting dressed you trudged your way into the kitchen, starting your late morning off right with your breakfast of choice, pop-tarts. You quickly ate your sugar packed meal before making some coffee and dragging yourself to your work desk and booting up your computer. Your penchant for quick, convenient, sugary meals was probably what had lead you to be as chubby as you were, but you pushed that uncomfortable thought aside for now. You heard your fire alarm go off in its unmistakable shrill tone, once again letting you know that its battery was low as it had been periodically for the past two days. You made another mental note to order some batteries or something and get it fixed. Before getting to work you text your several online friends, you did not go out too much, but you very successfully maintained many good online friendships. After a sending a few hellos and making a plan or two to play a game sometime later this week with some buddies you opened up your writing programs and after a few minute of once again staring blankly at the blinking cursor your brain finally whirred into action and you actually started to make some solid progress. Just when you started to really hit your stride your doorbell rang. The first time you ignored it but after a couple rings you grumbled and figured you would just have to answer it. You grumbled and got up, just knowing this would throw off the roll you were on. You answered the door and saw your alpha landlord Nathan smiling and looking down at you. You were immediately worried you had done something wrong but before you could say a word he spoke. “Heya, I just happened to hear your fire alarm beeping since the wall it is on is adjacent to mine, and I figured maybe you needed some batteries and help reaching it, since omegas tend to be a bit short.” There was nothing angry or even annoyed in his tone, there never really seemed to be, he was his normal amicable self just genuinely offering to help. His green eyes bright and a friendly smile on his face. Even his vibrant orange hair seemed happy. You felt bad though because you were sure you must have annoyed him with how inconsiderate you had been, you had not even thought of him being able to hear the alarm. He was probably just concealing his displeasure. “O-oh, um, thanks that’s too kind of you, I am so sorry for not getting to it sooner,” you stammered while averting your gaze. “Hey, it’s no problem at all.” He went into your kitchen and noticed all the boxes of junk food as well as the wrappers that were in the garbage can which was close to where he had to stand to change the batteries. It was not that he was trying to be nosy or judgmental, but it made him a bit sad that you had no one taking care of you properly. You were a cute omega and probably couldn’t afford good food or did not have the time to prepare it with how busy you were with writing. And you must have been very busy, he could tell by the dark eyes and by the scent of your stressed out pheromones that you probably were not getting an adequate amount of sleep. It tugged at his heart, you were trying so hard, you clearly put yourself through a lot and had trouble with sleeping, eating habits, and getting the rent in on time. It was becoming more and more clear to him that what you really needed was an alpha helping you out and maybe being your mate and taking better care of you than you were capable of taking care of yourself. “Okay, all done, but if you need anything else please don’t hesitate to ask me okay?” He left your home and went back to his, telling himself that he would do a lot more to check up on you in case you were too scared or nervous to ask for help. You heard his words and mumbled out an affirmation that you would definitely ask if you needed something, but you knew that wasn’t true, you tended to just ignore most little problems and inconveniences until they either went away completely by themselves or until they could no longer be ignored. There were light bulbs that needed changing, your AC unit needed to be looked at, and you could probably be a bit tidier, for example. All things you needed to do yourself but were just too depressed and anxious to actually do. You were lucky Nathan did all the outside work, diligently cleaning the gutters, power washing the building, raking the leaves, and mowing the lawn even on your side of the building. And he was always in a nice tank top showing off his powerful body, but that surely wasn’t for your benefit, you thought. He was an alpha after all, and they always enjoyed exposing their muscles whenever given the chance. Of course he really was doing it to attract your gaze, though it never seemed to work. No matter how many times he made advances or hinted that he wanted to be friends you seemed to be completely uninterested. You didn’t check him out when he was doing physical outdoor labor, you did not pay attention when he was working in your unit, and you did not even seem to notice his scent, which was always powerful after working up a sweat for you. He even often worked out before coming over just to make his pheromones really strong. His mind could not entertain the thought that you might be uninterested though, not after all he did for you. You probably just needed more attention to feel comfortable with him, you were probably just too shy and insecure and needed a bit more positive attention and encouragement, so he decided that he would continue to help you as often as possible in the belief that you would eventually come around. Weeks passed since he fixed your alarm, and he was beginning to think that you would never approach him. Nathan was yearning for any excuse to go in your home again, where the air smelled so full of your scent and where he could hear that lovely voice of yours, but there was never a reason to go over there of his own initiative and you never approached him. The increasingly desperate alpha decided he would have to make his own opportunities for you to come to him. He knew when you would go on one of your infrequent walks to the corner store. They were like clockwork, you always went on the same days of the month. You normally were gone at least thirty minutes when you left and that gave him more than enough time to sabotage your home. He knew it was wrong to do it, but if there was no other way to get you to approach him then he had to. Nathan was sure that you liked him, you were just too shy and unsure of yourself to let him know you were noticing his advances, and this would also be another good way to show how handy and helpful he would be as your mate. To show he could take care of you. Nathan made sure to scrub himself clean of any scent that could potentially be left as evidence of his actions, then, as soon as you were gone and were out of sight down the road he went to your side of the duplex and rushed to your breaker panel. He flipped a breaker switch and replaced one of your fuses with a blown one, thus shutting off electricity to a large portion of the building. The alpha seriously doubted that you would know what to do to fix the problem and even if you did you probably did not have any fuses laying around. You did not exactly give off a prepared and organized vibe. As he started to leave a curious smell hit his nostrils, beckoning him into your room. He was powerless to resist seeking out the source of that heavenly aroma, that aroma that smelled so purely of you. He followed the scent to your bedroom and slowly opened the door, he knew such an invasion was even worse than what he had already done, but the smell was demanding that he follow his instincts and find the source. Immediately upon stepping into your room a wave of dizzying pheromones and the scent of slick nearly made him stumble backwards. There, in your laundry pile, he found what was emanating the smell that was causing his pants to grow tight. A pair of slick soaked panties lay on top of your laundry hamper, as if waiting for him. He never could have imagined when he entered your home that your heat had just ended and such a treasure would be left for him to enjoy. He pulled them to his nose and inhaled the scent deeply. He blushed when he thought about the fact that his nose was touching fabric that has caressed your pussy. So sweet and a bit musky, an omega’s most delicious scent reserved only for mates. He had to stop himself from masturbating right then and there, because you certainly would have smelled him had he done so. He decided that it would be okay for him to take a pair because you had several similarly colored and messy ones in your hamper and it would be unlikely that you noticed just one missing. Your landlord quickly left the room and closed the door behind him before retreating back to his home. He put your panties under his pillow and thoroughly washed his face off. His trophy would have to be enjoyed later, when you got back you would soon discover the sabotaged electricity and come to him for help. When you got back from your trip to the store, bags of junk food that passed as groceries in your mind in your hands, you did not notice anything amiss. You were completely unaware that anyone had been there. When you went to turn on the kitchen light you realized that it did not work at all. You needed to change the light bulb, that was the obvious thought that entered your mind, but when you opened your fridge to put your food in it you realized the light inside of it was also not working. That was really odd, your power couldn’t be out, the light in the living room came right on when you stepped in your home. You checked some other appliances and it seemed that all electricity in your kitchen was just… not working. Anxiety welled up within you, you did not know the first thing about fixing this type of issue but you dreaded asking Nathan, you knew he was sweet and would probably be happy to take a look at the issue but you really hated to be an inconvenience and in general you just preferred to be independent. You swallowed your anxiety and made your way outside slowly as if each foot was made by lead. You stared at his door, breathed deeply, and rang the doorbell. Nathan answered fairly quickly, opening the door and greeting you with that jovial smile of his. “Hey, how are you? Anything I can help you with?” “Um, yeah, it seems that my electricity is out in my kitchen, I, uh, wouldn’t normally bug you with it, but I don’t want my food to go bad…,” you explained while looking down awkwardly, unable to meet his gaze. “Oh, sure, I can take a look at it no problem, honestly it sounds like maybe a blown fuse. I have some spare ones, let me go grab them just in case.” He went back to his house before returning with something in his hand. You both went into your unit and he walked into the kitchen and checked all of your appliances to verify they really weren’t working before going over to the panel in the wall and pulling out what you guessed was a fuse and replacing it before flipping a switch. Suddenly, much to your relief, all the appliances whirred to life. “Thanks so much! I am sorry I did not know it was something so simple…” “Hey it’s no pr-,” Nathan began to respond, but stopped when he turned around and noticed that you had already retreated back to your computer, typing away diligently. Nathan was beginning to get a bit frustrated, not at you but just at the situation and with myself. He just did not know what he had to do to get your eyes on him, you seemed absolutely immune to flirting and showing off… It was time for the direct approach. Maybe things really just flew over your head or you were afraid to give him any attention for some reason, maybe you had been hurt in a previous relationship, or maybe you just needed someone to show you that you were worth the affection. But whatever it was he decided he would have to use the direct approach, though he would have preferred to have been getting you to notice him a bit more before he did so there was simply no other option left. Tomorrow he would simply ask you out directly. He was a big strong alpha that took care of you, surely you would not say no. He finally left so you could breathe a sigh of relief, you really did not like having others over. You were grateful and all but under Nathan’s smile you were positively convinced that he was judging you, you always caught him staring at you and it made you more than a bit nervous. With him gone you finished up what you had started on, ate one of your dietary staples, a pack of ramen noodles, and washed up before staying up too late and eventually passing out in your bed while watching YouTube videos. Nathan knows that you do not get up early like he does, so he spends all day getting ready. He put together a thoughtfully crafted courting package. Sweet treats that omegas tended to be fond of and some particularly fragrant flowers all wrapped up in one of his slightly worn shirts so that you had a token that smelled of him. He even made sure it was your favorite color, which he guessed based on the décor in your home. He was pretty sure of himself, so he lacked any nervousness when he approached your door and rung the bell. When you heard it you grumbled, as usual you did not want to be disturbed, especially when you had actually managed to start working. You had not even really bothered to get dressed yet, you had been so busy between catching up on sleep and actually being productive with your writing that you had completely forgotten to change out of the clothes from yesterday and now that you had someone at the door you were now painfully aware that your hair was a bit of a mess as well. You straightened your hair the best you could with your fingers and checked to see who was at the door before answering. When you saw that it was Nathan you felt a sharp panic. Had you forgotten to pay rent? Had you done something wrong? Was he finally tired of dealing with you and had decided you needed to leave. Taking a deep breath you opened the door and greeted him. “Oh, uh, hi Nathan, what’s wrong?” “Nothing’s wrong, I just wanted to ask if you would let me court you? You’re such a cute omega and I really think we are compatible. Don’t you think we would make a good match?” He tried to hand you a courting package wrapped up in one of his scented shirts but you did not take it. “Oh, um, I am really sorry about this, but I am not uh… really looking for a relationship right now. I am just trying to focus on myself and my writing… sorry.” Nathan regarded you blankly for a few moments that dragged on and felt like an awkward eternity before he finally acknowledged your words and responded a bit frantically, “If you’re worried about taking care of yourself you wouldn’t need to! I could take care of all your needs!” “That’s the thing, I really just want to make it on my own and take care of myself completely before I have a mate. I am so sorry I hope you understand…” He nodded solemnly and you nervously closed the door. You hoped he didn’t hate you now, he was a nice guy but you had been completely honest with him. Of course Nathan did not hate you now, in fact it may have been better if he had. Instead he was more determined than ever to make you his. His mind just would not accept in any way, shape, form, or fashion that you were uninterested in him. Instead he was in denial, thinking and reaching for any plausible explanation as to why you would want him but say no to his courtship. The delusional alpha finally reached the most reasonable conclusion, you just did not think you were good enough to date him. It was rather obvious when he thought over all the evidence. You lived like someone who had at least partially given up on themselves. You hastily ate whatever was the lowest effort junk food available, your sleep habits were awful, you never left your home and as he was not aware of your online social life he thought you were utterly friendless. It all added up perfectly in his mind, you thought you were bad and needed to be elevated and you desperately needed someone to care for you, even if you couldn’t bring yourself to admit it. And, as your self-appointed alpha, it was up to him to make sure your needs were met. He sat down and calmly thought of a plan, the fact that you lived not only in an a home connected to his and owned by him made everything much easier for him. The next time you went on one of your little store trips he would once again put a nefarious plan into motion. Your soon to be lover collected all the necessary materials to have a romantic evening with you, his chubby little omega. He had prepared a meal of lasagna, garlic bread, and a side salad with a fancy bottle of wine. As well as some crucial extras such as rope and chloroform. As soon as you were gone he waltzed right on in and set up a lovely candle lit dinner for you and him to enjoy, you would get to see another way that he could take care of you, making you tasty and nutritious proper meals. When you opened the door to your home you were greeted by the scent of Italian herbs, cheese, the hearty aroma of meat in tomato sauce, fresh cut veggies, and garlic. You were confused, sometimes you could detect the smell of food from Nathan cooking next door, but never this intensely. You took a few steps inside when suddenly someone strong gripped you from behind and put a rag over your face. You thrashed and kicked in a panicked frenzy as a sickeningly sweet smell flooded your nostrils. Your kicks quickly grew feeble before everything went black. When you came to you were seated at your kitchen table, your head fuzzy and rope tightly bound your legs and torso. Your hands were free enough to be able to eat, but they would be useless in breaking your binds. In front of you there was a dinner with presentation that would not be out of place at a five star restaurant. A floral centerpiece, candle light, pasta, salad, and garlic bread. And across the table, staring intensely at you with a smile going from ear to ear, was Nathan. You could smell the excitement radiating off of him, this was a crazed alpha with their mate. “N-Nathan? What’s… going on?” Your fuzzy brain struggled to make sense of what was happening but was rapidly catching on as the drugging continued to fade. “Oh good darling, I am so glad you are awake from your nap! Why don’t you dig in? I worked really hard on a nice homemade dinner for you~” He said everything so casually and sweetly. As if a man talking to his wife and not a man talking to a woman he had forcefully knocked out and restrained. You stared at him silently, your mind struggling to come to grips with what was happening to you. Nathan had always been so nice to you, how could he be capable of something like this? “Go ahead and eat pumpkin, no need to be shy, I know how much you needed a good home cooked meal!” “Wh-what the hell is wrong with you?” You asked angrily as you glared at him, probably the most direct eye contact you had ever made with him. “What do you mean? You don’t like pumpkin as a pet name? We can try others and see what f-” “N-no! What? I don’t mean the name, I mean the fact that you knocked me out and tied me up!!” You were seething now, your rage even affecting your scent and making it more acrid. “Oh, don’t worry about that my darling mate~ I just had to make sure that you wouldn’t try to run out of our date! I know you said you didn’t want to be my mate mate but I know you were just being silly, you are just too shy to admit that you want a mate and you don’t think that you are good enough, but no worries! I will prove to you that you are.” You didn’t know what to say. He was completely unstable. “Please eat baby doll, you really need to,” he pleaded as if you were a petulant child refusing a meal, as if this was an everyday inconvenience and not the result of him assaulting you and tying you up. But eating was the farthest thing on your mind and you did not want to give him the satisfaction of giving in to his demands, and you were not entirely sure he didn’t drug the food with something even more potent. Instead you threw yourself in a rather comical attempt to escape. The way you were tied with your arms partially free and your legs firmly bound made you have to resort to wiggling on the floor like some kind of worm. Nathan got up from his seat, hoisted you up, and sat back down with you in his lap. “I know you are shy and maybe even a bit too prideful, but I promise you will feel better with some food in your belly.” As he said this he rubbed your chubby belly and kissed your cheek lightly before holding a fork full of lasagna up to your face. You knew you were going to start crying before you even felt the first hot tear streak down your cheek, you were powerless and scared of what he could do to you so you reluctantly opened your mouth, allowing him to slide the fork in. What at any other time would have been a flavorful dinner with tangy and savory flavors dancing on your tongue turned now only to cotton, as you struggled past your emotional trauma as you ate each bite that he gave you. As you ate he filled your ear with whispered praises, telling you how you were such a good girl, and you just had a bit more to go, and how he was so happy you were eating properly for him. You ate roughly half of everything that he had put on your plate and once you had he rubbed your back soothingly. “Such a good girl for me. I am so happy. My good little omega~” Don’t worry, you will get used to our life together eventually. You wanted to throw up. But you fought the urge, who knows what he would do if you got sick. Force feed you more? Make you take medicine and baby you? It wasn’t worth the risk. He left you on the chair as he cleaned up after dinner, you shooting him daggers with your eyes the entire time that he was doing so, but he just blissfully hummed to himself the entire time seemingly unaware of your glares. For Nathan everything was finally coming together, he had successfully taken the first crucial steps in getting his mate to accept him. When the kitchen was all clean he took you, still tied up, to the living room and put you on the couch. You didn’t have a tv since you never bothered with anything other than your PC or tablet so he turned his laptop to Netflix and placed it on the coffee table in front of the both of you and turned on your favorite show. Once again your stomach turned a bit, how did he know the things that you liked to watch? Had he really paid such a creepy amount of attention to what you were doing during one of the many times he had been over to fix something? Just how long had he been so obsessed with you, and why? Nathan finally removed your bindings after pulling you close, perhaps realizing that they were more than a bit overkill since you were right up beside him with his arm around you. There was no way you could even attempt to escape without him immediately stopping you. And you certainly weren’t going to make the attempt now, he had knocked you out, tied you up, force fed you, and was living in his own little delusion that you would easily accept him as a partner when you did not even really want a partner even in the best of circumstances. Who knew what he might do to you if you shattered those delusions by escaping. You’d have to lull him into a false sense of security and trust before you attempted to do anything. For now you allowed him to stroke your hair as he watched a show with you, though you were very rigid, scared, and not paying any attention at all to the screen, but if he noticed he did not make a fuss about it, maybe it was enough just to be obedient for the moment. And it was, Nathan knew it would take you a bit of time to adjust. There were always adjustments both parties had to make when starting a new relationship. You had to get used to being around him all the time and used to having someone praise you, build you up, and make sure you were being taken care of. He would have to adjust his time and schedule to give you all the time and attention that you needed and he would have to be really patient with you. It was just part of a new relationship. Nothing to worry about. You continued sitting on the couch for him for what seemed like an eternity. He occasionally planted a gentle kiss on your cheek or on your cheek. You flinched a bit each time that he did, but finally he turned the laptop off. While you were more than a bit relieved you had to fear what would happen next. And your fear only increased as he led you to your bedroom. Apparently he did quite a bit more than just bring dinner over and lay in wait for you. He had reorganized your next, not only tidying it up but also adding several new items that he had personally scented. His musk hung thickly all about the room. He had likely placed scented objects all around the room. You scrunched your face as the smell became increasingly gross to you. This was the ultimate invasion to any omega. A non-consensual intrusion into an omega’s nest was pretty revolting and anxiety inducing. A nest was supposed to be a place where an unmated omega had supreme authority in constructing it in a way to make them feel comfortable, safe, and comfortable. This alpha forcing his scent in not only your den but also your nest made you more nauseous than when you were being forced to eat. As he guided you to your nest you begin to truly panic, thinking you were surely about to be raped. You started to try and turn for the door, but he caught you and held you close while rubbing your back. “Shhh, don’t worry babe, we aren’t going to do anything other than sleep okay? You need to fix your sleep schedule, I am your alpha and have to make sure that you rest enough and you have had a long day. Shhh, just relax,” he whispered in a hush tone before licking your neck in the way an alpha or beta does to relax an omega. Though you were opposed to the licking, and you certainly did not want to be in your tainted nest, you did calm down a bit with his assurances that he wasn’t going to forcefully breed you. You let him lead him into your defiled bedding and lay there. He whispered praises of you being his good girl as he slid in behind you and put his arm around you, pulling you close. You felt the heat of tears as they welled up in your eyes and cried silently until you finally fell into a fitful sleep. You woke up from your light sleep to the smell of breakfast cooking and the sound of meat sizzling from the kitchen. You felt as if you had hardly slept at all and your head was pounding, likely from dehydration from all the crying you did last night. You briefly considered trying to sneak out the front door while he was busy in the kitchen, but the rooms were close and at this time in the early morning there would be absolutely no one outside. He would hear you leave and then snatch you back up immediately. And who knew what the consequences would be. Instead you forced yourself into the kitchen and did your best to act like everything was fine. “Good morning sunshine~ I hope you slept well. Breakfast is almost done, sausage and homemade pancakes. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day so I can’t let you go without it,” once again he was saying all of this so casually, as if you could just so easily accept him as your provider and caretaker. “Th-thanks,” you mumbled while trying to sound at least a little sincere. Nathan thought you were, his heart fluttered thinking you were finally starting to accept him. Which is exactly what you wanted. Nathan wasn’t the only one who could think of a plan. Once he completely let his guard down and left you alone for an extended period of time you would get the hell out of here and go to the police. He had taken away all of your electronics so you had no way to signal for help, so you would have to run. So for the next few weeks you let Nathan think you were warming up to him. You ate his food, let him pull you close, you engaged him in conversations, always acting as sweet as can be, and eventually started leaning on him and holding on to him in bed. It worked like a charm, he started leaving you unattended for a few minutes at a time and that time slowly grew bit by bit until one night he said he had to run out to the store to get some supplies he had forgotten to get earlier that he needed to fix a minor leak in the roof the next day. You told him okay and made a big show of being sleepy and snuggling up in your nest with the big plushy he had gotten and scent marked for you so you could always have his scent by you. When he left the home you stared out the window and waited for his car to move out of sight. When it had you sprang up, quickly put some appropriate clothing and shoes on, and ran out the door. Smacking right into Nathan’s broad chest. He must have parked the car down the street then sprinted here while you were throwing your clothes and shoes on. He was a bit out of breath. It had all been a clever trap to test you. “Nathan… I was… just getting some fresh air. I-i didn’t feel well.” You started to back away but he grabbed your wrist a bit painfully and pulled you back to him. “Don’t give me that. I know you were trying to get away from me. It’s my fault, I gave you a bit too much freedom too quickly. And I should have realized how badly I needed to mark and mate with you to keep you happier. I know you won’t admit that you want it yet, but it is clear you are crying out for it.” “Nathan no. N-no please don’t,” you pleaded desperately, each word out of your mouth dripping with terror. Your self elected alpha ignored all of your objections and struggles as he picked you up and started carrying you to the bedroom. You scratched at him, punched, kicked, elbowed, everything you could do to stop what was about to happen. “Calm down baby girl, I’ll make you feel so much better, I promise. Gonna mark you, breed you, you’ll be so much happier, just calm down.” Nathan deposited you in your shared nest, you tried to push him away with your legs and feet but he just caught them effortlessly before aggressively ripping off your pants and then panties, exposing your pussy to him. Then he moved to your top and bra and removed those as well. Your body was completely uncovered. You tried to cover yourself the best you could with your arms and hands but he just pried them away. He now had you completely pinned and at his mercy. The first thing he went for was your neck, knowing that stimulating your scent glands there would be an effective way to arouse you. He licked up and down the sensitive area before kissing and nibbling on it. Your reaction was as strong as it was involuntary, small gasps and whimpers escaping your lips as your pussy began to drool. He firmly grasped your tits, groping and kneading them in his hands as he continued his assault on your neck. You feared he would make a claiming mark soon, his teeth grazing over your skin threateningly, but so far he had restrained himself from that ultimate act of dominance. You had a moment to collect yourself as he temporarily released you to slide out of his shirt, a light sheen of sweat covering his chest, before then taking off his pants and underwear. His large cock bounced free. “No, no, no please I don-,” you started to protest before your pleas were swallowed up by his lips dominating yours in an oppressive embrace. He broke the kiss as one of his hands slowly traveled down from your side to your pussy. He slowly teased the lips as you continued to mutter, whimper, and whine out little pleas and protests. But despite your obvious lack of consent, each word you uttered was steeped in arousal. It only convinced him that he was doing the right thing, that you were just too shy to admit that you wanted it, that your shyness in conjunction with your pride made you try to run away. Mostly it convinced him more and more that he just needed to open you up, in every sense of the word. And with that thought he finally slid two fingers inside your eagerly waiting cunt. Instinctively at the sensation your body completely betrayed you, your legs spread more as if inviting him in deeper while moving yourself into his touch, grinding into his fingers. “See babe, I knew you wanted this~,” he whispered faintly before sliding another finger into your drooling depths. He didn’t let up, in fact he picked up the pace as you began really fucking yourself on his fingers, your body clearly craving release. His previously acrid smell began to actually smell a lot better to you, desirable even. The combination of domination, neck stimulation, and his skilled fingers lead to you cumming a lot more quickly than you normally would. “Gosh, such a good girl for me, already cumming for me,” he said under his breath more to himself than to you, as he regarded you with awe. You were the picture of perfection to him, simply radiant as you panted and shuddered in the wake of your climax. Nathan licked all your juices off his fingers before kissing a trail from your pudgy belly to your sex. He kissed it deeply before sliding his tongue in, thoroughly making out with your nether-lips. His tongue was eager for every drop of flavor inside your pussy, the pheromones your body was producing sending him into rut as all the sensations began to trigger you into an early heat. His tongue probed and prodded every inch it could reach within you as you kept producing more slick. It wasn’t long before another orgasm hit you, causing you to squeeze his head between your thick thighs. He didn’t mind at all, instead taking pride in the pleasure he was causing your body despite you claiming you didn’t want him to be doing this. You laid back limp panting more than earlier in the wake of your pleasure, now not even able to make a single objection. But your mate was nowhere near done with you. The alpha flipped you over and put you on your tummy, you felt a warmth on your thighs as he rubbed his cock against you before sliding it all the way inside you. He started very slowly moving back and forth in your abused pussy, savoring every shudder and movement you made under him. As he began licking and kissing your neck gently while mating you agonizingly slowly you began to break down and cry, once more feeling that sensation that had gotten all too familiar lately of tears welling up in your eyes and raining down your face. “So good for me, such a good girl, such a good omega. Taking my cock so well, making so much slick for me to slide in easily, so so good,” he told you in a comforting voice as he peppered the side of your face and your neck with a bunch of tiny kisses. You were shaking, so broken by him. The slow speed had become completely torturous. You needed to cum again. Despite your shaking and exhaustion and sheer overstimulation you began to weakly rock against each one of his thrusts, driving him deeply and forcing the pace to go a bit faster. Nathan followed your cue and started going significantly faster, his large cock rubbing against your walls so wonderfully. You felt so betrayed by your body, starting a heat at his actions, pheromones thick in the air beckoning him to continue, body moving instinctively to seek pleasure from your rapist and captor. But you couldn’t help it. His praise for you continued and now became almost like a chant. “So good for me, so good for me, so good, so good, so good, so good…,” as the words of praise and worship for you kept tumbling from his lips his knot started to grow inside you, binding the two of you together. This was when he started really railing you, his swollen knot catching against your inner folds in the best way possible, as if his cock was specifically for your use. The sensations were reaching their peak for the both of you. Your face completely wet with tears of desperation and frustration. Nathan’s mouth was back at your neck and just as he filled your insides with thick potent seed he bit down on your scent gland HARD. You screamed out loud. A brilliant mix of both pleasure and pain mixed through you as the bite sent an almost electric feeling throughout your entire body as it quivered once more with the strongest climax you had ever experienced in your life. It was so immense that you blacked out from all the sensations assaulting your body. Nathan licked your neck of the blood his claiming bite had caused and pulled you close, spooning you as his knot stayed rigid within you. You woke up whimpering as your sore pussy was being bred all over again. Nathan had never pulled out of you and when he woke up he started thrusting lightly, trying not to disturb your rest. He smiled when he saw that your eyes had opened and you were already flushed and flustered from his movements. “Ah, my sleeping beauty is awake, now we can start round two before breakfast~”

#male yandere #yandere boyfriend #yandere husband #yandere a/b/o #a/b/o #male yandere x female reader #alpha x omega #omega reader #female reader #My OCs #My OC Nathan

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planetpiastri · 1 year

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I know v-day is soon but if you want to write something before that, I would love 37 from the meet cutes, with bob :)

anon, this is so cute that im using it as the formal start to the prompt party. enjoy!! | join my prompt party!

37. meeting at a fire alarm test, having to evacuate the building

word count - 1.2k

This could not be happening. You hadn’t even lived in this new apartment building for a full week, and everything was already going wrong. First the plumbing busted and none of the toilets would flush; then the fridge broke and all of your produce went bad before your super could get someone out to fix it; and just when you thought things would even out, the whole fifth and sixth floor’s air conditioning had broken.

To cap it all off, after three days of sweating bullets in the blistering summer heat, the fire alarm was going off.

Footsteps thundered overhead as the whole building moved to evacuate. As you slipped out your front door, you saw people flooding the stairs, many holding dogs by the collar or clutching their cats tight to their chests as they ran. A few younger tenants stood in their doorways coolly, nursing cigarettes or joints, or else with their hands deep in chip bags, like there wasn’t a blaring siren going off overhead, their presence serving to remind you just how cheap your rent was.

You brushed past these jaded late-teens-early-twenty-somethings and shoved your keys and your wallet into your pockets, realizing too late that you’d left your phone on the counter upstairs. Trying to go back for it would be like trying to swim upstream at the Rushing Rapids, so you just let yourself get swept away with the crowd.

As you reached the floor below you, the door marked 504 swung open and a man stepped out, quickly pulling on a yellow tee shirt over black athletic shorts and flip-flops. With one glance, you knew his air unit was busted, too. There was a thin sheen of sweat across his face, and his cheeks were rosy-pink. With another glance, you worried that something other than the broken heating might be responsible for the warmth flooding your face.

“Oh, sorry,” he said quietly as the two of you nearly collided, easily falling in place behind you. His hand brushed your shoulder as you walked, sending chills down your back, and you found it endlessly endearing that he’d chosen to touch your shoulder instead of your waist or lower back, like most guys in the building would have done.

Unfortunately, descending the building stairs, surrounded by your sweaty neighbors, didn’t give you much of a chance to do anything but smile nervously at him. You were moving again, painfully aware of the fact that he was right behind you and you were wearing the skimpiest tank top and shorts you owned in an attempt to fight off the heat. The alarm overhead continued to blare rhythmically, fading to a background drone as you moved steadily downwards.

The stairs finally spilled out into the foyer and you followed the mob out onto the front pavement of the complex. All sorts of different people milled about, talking on phones or conversing with their neighbors. Once again, you wished you’d remembered to grab your phone before you left. Now you were stuck awkwardly standing on the pavement in sandals, showing far more skin than you’d usually feel comfortable with outside of your apartment.

A ways off, the man in the yellow shirt was standing on the edge of the sidewalk, his brow furrowed as he typed on his phone. As you watched, he absently reached up to push his glasses back up from where they’d slipped down his sweat-slick nose. He ran his hand through his hair, not paying attention, and then grabbed the front of his shirt, fluttering it to try and cool down.

Almost like he could sense you, he lifted his head and made direct eye contact with you. You quickly turned back to face the building, your cheeks burning, hoping maybe he hadn’t noticed the way you’d very, very obviously been watching him—not even watching, you’d been straight-up ogling—

“Hey.”

Shit.

“Hi,” you said, turning to face him with an apologetic grimace.

You weren’t sure what to expect from him—maybe a confused glance, or an inquiry as to why you’d been staring. But he had a pleasantly neutral smile on his face, and he was passing his phone back and forth in his hands like he didn’t want to keep them still. When he spoke, it was a question. “Are you new?”

“Is it that obvious?” you asked with a wince.

He shook his head, still smiling gently. “No, that’s not what I mean. I just haven’t seen you before.” He gestured around the tenants milling around. “This is a pretty regular occurrence.”

“What, the building catches on fire?” you said before you could stop yourself.

The man chuckled, dropping his head as he did, like he was nervous to make eye contact. “No,” he said. “It’s an alarm test. Legally, they have to do one every six months, but the alarm’s been broken for…well, as long as I’ve lived here. So it goes off randomly every month.”

“And everyone obeys it anyways?” You glanced around skeptically, having a newfound surprise for the amount of people stuck outside right now.

He shrugged. “They jack up your rent for the month if you don’t do the practice. Apparently back in the ‘80s something happened where there was a real fire and people didn’t evacuate because they thought it was just a drill.”

You chewed on the inside of your cheek, glancing up at the old building. “I really picked a winner,” you murmured.

“It’s not all bad,” he said quickly, looking at you with wide, blue eyes. “I mean—the people are nice.”

You gave him another once-over, smiling a bit. “So far, I’d have to agree.”

His cheeks, which were still flushed from the heat, turned a shade darker and he dropped his eyes again. You felt a little proud of that.

“I’m Bob,” he said.

“Nice to meet you, Bob,” you said, introducing yourself. Then you said, “Your heating’s broken, too, right?”

He exhaled heavily. “Yeah. Debbie downstairs has been letting me borrow her box fan, but it’s pretty rough, as you can see.” He gestured down at his slapdash outfit.

You chuckled a little, nodding and gesturing at your own clothes. “How long do these usually last?” you asked.

Bob shrugged. “Anywhere from fifteen minutes to two hours, depending on how quick they can fix the alarm again. The fire department is gonna show up pretty soon and yell at the super, and then they’ll give us the all-clear. But nothing to do until then but kill time.”

You considered this, stepping out to get a look down the street. A few bodegas and small shops lined the sidewalks, but one place in particular caught your eye. Turning back to your neighbor, you said, “Do you want to go grab an ice cream while we wait, Bob? It’ll probably cool us down better than Debbie’s box fan.”

“R-really?” said Bob, blinking at you in surprise. His whole body stilled, like the nervous energy had fled, but he quickly broke into a smile and said, “Yeah. Yes! Yes, okay. Sure. That sounds nice.”

“Come on, then,” you said, and began to lead the way towards the ice cream parlor. And if you were tempted to hold his hand on the walk back, you kept that to yourself. And if Bob walked you all the way back to your apartment and gave you his number, that was entirely his own decision. And if you fell into bed that night with all your windows thrown open to try and clear out the muggy heat, a giddy smile on your cheeks and a newfound fondness for this apartment building in your heart, well… that was just between you and the night air.

#bob floyd #robert bob floyd #bob floyd fic #bob floyd x you #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd fanfic #bob floyd fluff #bob floyd imagine #bob floyd blurb #robert bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd x you #robert bob floyd blurb #robert bob floyd imagine #robert bob floyd fluff #vinny fics #vinny's valentine's prompt party

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shesthejukeboxhero · 1 year

Text

Don’t Blame Me

Billy Hargrove x Fem!Reader (AU)

Warnings: Angst, Violence, Swearing, Alcohol, Parent Loss (flashback), Bullying (flashback) MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH!

Summary: What would have happened if instead of Billy being flayed, it was his girlfriend? (Title and ending inspired by “Don’t Blame Me by Taylor Swift)

A/N: I apologize for not posting in such a long time! I just needed the time to sit down and write this fully because who would want to read a part 2 when I could easily finish it in one part? Anyways, I hope you guys really enjoy this, it has been in my mind for a long time now.

“Oh Lord, save me, my drug is my baby, I'll be usin' for the rest of my life, Usin' for the rest of my life”

You had made plans for after graduation. Work hard all summer, move to California the day after Labor Day. You knew the day he asked you out formally that the two of you were endgame.

He got a job at the pool, you got a job at the new record store in the mall. Some days, he’d meet you at the mall for lunch, or you’d drive up to the pool to see him on your break. Sometimes, the two of you even rented a hotel room to spend the night together without fear of your families noticing. That’s what you were doing that night.

After stopping at your house to get some clothes for the night, you were driving to Motel 6, where Billy was waiting for you. Singing along happily to the Blondie song on the radio, you knew tonight was going to be a good night, until it wasn’t.

It came out of nowhere. The object shattered the windshield of your silver Ford Escort, sending your head straight into the steering wheel. Stepping out of your car to inspect the damage, you notice a weird gooey substance on the windshield.

“What the fuck…” you mutter to yourself when a random squeal and rustling in the bushes sounds out just a few feet from where you are now.

“Who’s there?” You say, suddenly becoming more panicked.

You move towards the bushes to investigate the sound but you suddenly get swept off your feet and you start getting pulled towards the steel mill.

“Let me go! Please, let me go!” You scream as you’re pulled down the stairs, gripping onto the top stair for your life, but the force is too strong. The creature now towers over you, like a giant tentacle. It latches onto your face and drowns out your screams.

Somehow, the creature lets go of you long enough for you to sprint out back to your car and drive away. You don’t know what the fuck just happened, but you know you HAVE to get away from that steel mill.

Eventually you spot a pay phone on the side of the road, and you pull over and sprint to it as fast as your legs can go. Dialing 911, you start getting flashbacks to being pulled down to the steel mill.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

As the flashbacks get more rampant, the lights start flickering more and more, when suddenly, it goes dark. It’s too quiet, not even the dial tone of the phone can be heard. Stepping out of the pay phone, you look around cautiously. As you walk back out into the road you spot a group of people hiding in the fog.

“What do you want?”

Dead silence.

“I said, what do you want?”

Suddenly a figure starts walking towards you. As they get closer, it’s a clone of yourself.

“To build. I want you to build.” Your clone says in a distorted voice, much different from your own.

“To build what?” You say, scared for your life.

“What you see.”

“I don’t understand.”

A crack of lightning sounds and the next thing you know your clone and the crowd are gone.

“I don’t understand! What do you mean, I don’t understand!”

Billy waited all night for you to show up, but you never did. He knew this was unlike you, and figured you’d have a good explanation when he came to visit you at work today. As he walks into the record store, he sees you wearing short shorts and a tank top, something you never wore unless it was incredibly hot out (which it was not that day.)

“Where were you last night?” He says, point-blankly.

“I had a change of plans.” You say, with no emotion in your voice.

“Take him, Y/N. He’s perfect” The voice says in your head, and you feel yourself losing control.

“Please, Y/N, tell me what I did wrong.” He says, looking into your eyes, which just feeds the monster’s desire to take him as the next victim. Feeling your control start to slip almost completely, you realize you have to get Billy out of here, quickly.

“GO AWAY BILLY, PLEASE!” You yell at him, and you see the hurt expression on his face.

“Fine.” He says, leaving without another word, and you mentally sigh of relief. He’s safe, for now. The black veins go back into your skin, and you run to the break room and grab one of the water bottles out of the fridge and chug it, grabbing the other one to cool your face down.

“Y/N, are you okay?” Your co-worker, Daniel says as he checks back in from his lunch break.

“Take him instead.” The monster says into your head. Without thinking, you approach Daniel and grab him by the neck.

“Y/N what the fuck are you doing?” He chokes out as he starts to lose consciousness.

“Relax, it will all be over soon.” You say with a soothing voice.

The days blend together, where your body is moving without you even knowing. Taking whoever the flayer tells you to take. The old lady at the grocery store, the little boy throwing a baseball against a brick wall downtown, anyone. You don’t even feel like yourself anymore, a shell of a girl who once had it all.

Meanwhile, Billy was working hard to figure out how to get you back. Max filled him in on the supernatural beings of Hawkins, so now he knows what happened to you.

“So, what worked for Will was getting him super hot. Is there a way to do that?” Max asks Billy.

“I don’t know… maybe trapping her at work?” He says, trying to come up with a way to save his girl.

The plan is to trap you at work on the day you work by yourself. Billy will barricade the doors from the outside while Eleven turns the thermostat up from outside the shop, while Max and the rest of the party stand outside. As Billy hauls all the materials to the back door, he feels his anxiety rush over him, worried for how you’re going to react. He shoves that feeling aside and quickly barricades all the doors beside the glass front one so you don’t see him until it’s too late. After returning to the front of the store, Eleven starts turning the thermostat up. As the numbers get higher and higher, the control over your mind is lower and lower. It’s getting too hot, and you know that he will be angry.

“It’s up all the way.” Eleven says, wiping the blood from her nose.

“Now we wait.” Max says, standing just behind her brother as he nails the wood planks into the walls of the store to barricade the door.

Your hands clench under the counter, fighting to keep any sanity you have left, but it’s getting to be too much to bare. Meeting Billy’s eyes through the window, your eyes start to water. Walking over to the door’s window, you desperately call out to him.

“Billy please…”

“Y/N…”

“I didn’t mean to!! He made me!”

“Who made you do what?”

“The.. the.. the black thing… the giant shadow!”

“Y/N, please, we only want to help you.” Billy rests his hand against yours through the glass window, and that’s when it snaps. Punching through the window, Billy jumps back in shock. Kicking the wood planks away from the door, the group knows they need to act fast. Lucas fired his wrist rocket at her head, but that just made it angrier. The veins blacken all over your body and you smash through the door, but Eleven slams your body hard against the back wall of the store. Getting her weak enough, you reach your hand out and strangle her but that’s when Mike slams one of the wood planks against your head, giving Eleven enough time to throw you through the back wall of the store.

You walk down the steps to the basement of the mill, where Daniel is waiting, with all the rest of your victims.

“What happened.” Daniel says calmly.

“They know. They know I’m the host.” you say angrily.

“Who attacked you?”

“The girl. Nearly killed me.”

“She cannot kill all of us though.” He says, gesturing to the large crowd behind him.

A few days later, after meeting up with Nancy and Jonathan, the group decides to search for the flayed in the void. You, Daniel, Daniel’s Parents, The Holloways, and Doris Driscoll are all confirmed victims of the mind flayer.

After the attack at the hospital, you and Daniel stand waiting as the mini flayer, comprised of Daniel’s father and Tom Holloway’s bodies, returns to the mill, you look at him and say, “It’s time.”

Back at the cabin, Eleven is deep inside the void searching for the flayed. While the kids argue about why she shouldn’t be in the void for as long as she has been, Billy and Nancy are busy calling local businesses to ask if they have any missing chemicals. Suddenly, Eleven removes her blindfold and says, “I found her.”

You’re sitting alone on your bed in your bedroom, surrounded by floral wallpaper and music posters. Suddenly, you look up and see Eleven. A tear slips from your eye as you show her the possessions you caused, before slipping into an old memory of your own.

It’s the day of the annual Halloween party at Tina’s. You park your car and walk up to the party, dressed in an angel costume. Sipping on red punch, you bump into a shirtless Billy behind you.

“Excuse me, angel.”

“Sorry…-“

“Billy. Billy Hargrove.”

“Y/N. Y/N L/N.”

“What do you say we leave this lame party and you can show me what heaven looks like, doll.”

Suddenly, the memory starts to fade away as a new one starts. In this memory, there’s a much younger version of you, kneeling beside a hospital bed. She sees it’s a woman who looks a lot like you… your mother.

“Daddy, when will mommy wake up?”

He doesn’t respond.

“Daddy?”

That memory fades into a new one, where you’re no older than 8 years old, where you’re sitting on a bench outside at recess, when a group of girls come up to you.

“You know L/N, you’d be a lot less ugly if you actually tried.”

“Yeah, you need a makeover.”

Looking up at them, you say, “No thanks…”

“Too bad.” One of the girls pulls out a pair of scissors, cutting a chunk of your hair off. They laugh as tears fall from your eyes and that’s when it fades to one last memory: the night you were flayed.

She watches as the object hits your windshield, to your desperate call to 911, to getting dragged down the stairs. Not being able to take it anymore, Eleven returns to the cabin to find it empty. Lights flickering, Eleven calls out to Mike.

“He can’t hear you.” You say, in a deeper voice than normal.

She gasps as you step out from one of the rooms.

“You shouldn’t have looked for me.” You say, stepping towards her menacingly. “Because now I see you. We can all see you.”

Eleven backs away, scared.

“You… let us in. And now, you are going to have to let us stay.”

Eleven trembles as you step close to her.

“Don’t you see? All this time, we’ve been building it…. For you. All that work, all that pain, all of it, for you.”

Eleven sobs as you stare at her, intimidating her.

“And now it’s time. Time to end it. And we are going to end you. And once you’re gone, we are going to end your friends.”

“No!” Eleven yells, sobbing.

“And then we are going to end everyone.”

Eleven returns back to the cabin she came from, sobbing. After telling the group everything, they hear a snarl from outside. Will’s neck flares up, and he says, “He’s here.”

Nancy arms herself with a shotgun, and Jonathan and Billy arm themselves with axes. The cabin shakes and then suddenly stops, and that’s when a tendril slams through the window towards Eleven. Billy slams his ax down on it, but it turns to attack Billy. Nancy distracts it long enough for Eleven to tear it apart, but then 2 more fly in. Struggling, she finally tears them apart, but then the mind flayer itself destroys the roof, wrapping one of its tendrils around Eleven’s ankle. Jonathan severs the tendril with the ax while the rest of the group pulls Eleven away from the monster. The piece wrapped around her ankle embeds itself in her leg but Mike rips it out. After Eleven tears it apart, they flee the cabin in Nancy’s car.

After stopping at the supermarket, they flee with fireworks in tow. The flayer sends you out to find them there, but you were too late. Dipping your fingers in the blood left behind from Eleven’s leg, you use it to track where they’re headed— Starcourt.

When you arrive, they are outside working on Nancy’s car, which was tampered with. You rev the engine of your car, getting the attention of the group. They hurry back inside while Nancy fires at you as you floor your car towards the mall, when suddenly a car slams into yours- Steve Harrington slammed the rich guy’s car into yours, giving them time to escape. Spotting Mike, Max, and Eleven trying to escape through a back entrance, you hurry out of the burning car to get them.

“Take the girl, ignore the others.”

Cornering the kids in the hallway, Max starts telling you positive memories, like when you and Billy went to prom together (you promised him you’d make it worth his while afterwards…), and when you helped her get ready for the snowball. None of it works though, and you slam both her and Mike into the wall, knocking them out cold. Knocking Eleven out as well, you hoist her over your shoulder and carry her out to the center of the mall to present to the mind flayer.

Leaning over her, Eleven starts to wake up. She starts telling you details from the memory she saw— the one of you and Billy on Halloween.

“It was Halloween… Billy was there… he called you angel… your little halo and your wings gave it away…. You were pretty, very pretty. Billy loved you the moment he saw you…”

Hearing the memory, a tear slips from your eye. Climbing off of her, you turn to face the mind flayer. As it shoots a tendril out to take Eleven, you stand in front of her, taking the tendril in your chest.

“NO!” Billy yells out, watching the tendril sink into your body as you fall to your knees. The flayer lets go of you because Lucas begins firing fireworks at it, distracting him. Billy runs over to your shaking body, barely conscious.

“Angel, please, don’t leave me…” he says, caressing your tear-stained and blood covered face.

“Billy, it’s okay…” you say softly. “I’ll be okay…”

He lifts you into his lap and holds you close. “But I won’t…”

“I’ll love you forever… just put the blame on me…”

“It’s not your fault, Y/N. Don’t blame yourself.”

You cough up blood. “Billy please, let me go… I love you…” you say, holding his hand before slipping into unconsciousness.

He stays right there, feeling the muscles in your hand fall weak as he still holds your hand, even when the paramedics try to remove you from his grasp. He sits in front of your grave, knowing you wanted him to move on, but he just can’t let you go. You were his drug, and he’ll keep on using the memories of you for the rest of his life.

#billy hargrove x reader #Spotify #billy hargrove x f!reader #billy hargrove x fem!reader #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove fanfic #billy hargrove #billy hargove x reader #billy hargrove x female reader #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things au #stranger things season three #billy hargrove au #Billy hargrove imagine

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jarofstyles · 7 months

Text

FICTOBER DAY 6- Do You Believe in Soulmates?

Hello and welcome to day 6 of fictober. I hope you enjoy a little semi spooky blurb from us...

FICTOBER Prompt list and masterlist

Patreon

WC-1.2k

Warnings- wolves

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“Do you believe in soulmates?” The words floated on the warm night air to Y/N’s ears. She laid beside him on the blanket, looking up stars. It was the third night in a row that they’d continued their stargazing, Harry arriving to her home and promising to have her back safe and sound to her roommate before driving over to the lookout point over the lake.

Y/N was new to town, looking for a new beginning, and Harry had found her on her worst day. Only 2 months in, she had been burnt out. Tirelessly writing her book at night and working at the cafe during the day for just enough for her rent, bills and some food here and there. If she didn’t get her free meals at the cafe, she knew she would be in an even worse spot- but she had left a place that had been dulling her life, keeping her tied and rooted with no place to grow. Leaving had been the best option.

The lake town was tucked into the foothills of the mountains, A nice summer tourist population and a small, tight knit group of locals she was trying to find her place in. The weave was strong and the things seemed to be established, so she was trying to find a nice spot in between to settle- but her hanging out with Harry had made some waves. His family was a long time legacy, basically built the town up. He wasn’t much of a socializing type besides his small, even tighter group of friends, so when he was seen walking around with the new girl in town? It had spread like wildfire. It never ceased to amaze her how fast small towns spread gossip to the trees to set the rumor mill ablaze.

She had been informed that Harry didn’t date around, he didn’t sleep around despite people being more than obvious in their interest. A coworker had divulged that she knew his family was apparently part of some sort of exclusive group with a share of other families in town and the surrounding era. It was all hush hush, but Y/N knew that it wasn’t her business. If Harry had his secrets, it was okay. She did too.

Like how meeting him had given her the inspiration on what to model her male character on in her book.

“I’m a romance novel author, Harry.” She rolled her head to the side. “Of course I do. It’s the best trope there is.” She laughed, looking back up at the stars. Sometimes his stare was a bit intense and made her squirmy. He always seemed to be looking. Somehow, she didn’t mind.

“What do you like about it?” He asked, turning over on his side a bit as she continued looking up.

“Theres a lot. I love the idea of unconditional love, but I know that isn’t realistic. So I think I like the thought that someone is meant for me. That there isn’t something wrong with me for always feeling like something is missing in my partners thusfar. I love that whole thing. Feeling like you were made for someone, that they’ll just get you and how you feel… It’s always been something I wished was something for me. But I hope one day I can meet mine.” Her sigh was dreamy, smiling at the sky as Harry continued staring at her.

“Maybe you already have.” His voice was calm, just as it normally was, his eyes on her expression as he continued. “Well.. What if being with them required sacrifices? If life wouldn’t be different?” His words were ominous but Y/N was a bit oblivious. She always had been, full of wonder and stuck in her own brain. His question was one that had her mind whirling around, colorful thoughts throwing themselves at the walls until one stuck.

“I mean, every good love story requires sacrifice. It’s part of every single good storyline, every memorable romance.” She laughed, nudging his foot with her own. “And I suppose life is never the same after meeting anyone but especially a soul mate. Someone the stars bound to you. The cosmos and the moon, powerful things they are.” She didn’t know just how correct that was. “I’d still want to be with them, yeah. Any relationship takes work and adjustments. I think it would be more than worth it for a soul mate-”

Y/N gasped as she was interrupted by the howl of wolves off in the forest. Shivers hit her body, chills hitting her skin as the sound reverbed off the trees, the full moon in the sky seeming doubly as bright. There were trees on either side of them and her nerves shot into her stomach. It sounded so close. Sitting up, her widened eyes met Harry’s. His body hadn’t moved, hadn’t even stiffened. Oddly, she thought he saw him relax at it. “Uh- should we go? That sounded really close, and I’m no expert but that’s probably not good.” Her nervous hand wringing was a distraction, Harry gently pulling one of them from her own grasp, urging her back down.

“I’m not afraid. It’s okay. The wolves are misjudged. They don’t want to hurt humans.” He spoke confidently. “The humans are the ones attacking first. It’s probably different in other places but here, we respect the wolves and they leave us be.” His words were spoken as if he knew this for a fact. Y/N oddly believed him, despite knowing it was going against all logic she had.

“Oh, alright. I always thought wolves were beautiful but I try and keep a respectable distance. You know?” She tucked a bit of hair behind her ear, sitting back in her original spot as she tried to calm her heart down. The howling was moving further away, and Harry’s calmness was contagious.

“Yes. You’re one of the smart ones. In this town, the relationship with the wildlife is different. We all respect the creatures and nature’s course.”

“Oh!” Y/N gasped. “So that’s part of why there was a questionnaire everyone filled out while filing their documents at town hall, then. Wanting to make sure people knew that. Smart. I don’t know why people wouldn’t accept that, though. It should be like that everywhere.” Y/N sighed, shaking her head. “And do you like them, then? The wolves?”

She didn’t think it was that funny, but the smile that grew on his face and the little burst of laughter made her own smile tilt up the corner of her mouth. The man’s dimples were on display, teeth pearly white and crinkles by his eyes. Harry was attractive- anyone could see that- but to see him light up like that because of something she said? She felt his smile deep in her core. “Well…” He laughed through another howl. “You could say that.”

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venus-haze · 1 year

Text

Creep (Bo Sinclair x Reader)

Summary: You’d grown up in Ambrose, but seeing the mill town’s glory days coming to an end, your family packs up and moves the summer before your senior year of high school. You never expected to return to Louisiana, let alone see Bo Sinclair again, but when your distant husband’s new job brings both, your life goes to hell faster than you can blink.

Note: Yet another Bo Sinclair fic because that man lives in my head rent free. Reader is a cis woman (and a horrible judge of character), but no other descriptors are used. Title comes from the TLC song. This one isn’t as implicitly dark as my other Bo fics, but it’s still there…lurking through the rose-colored lens of nostalgia. Do not interact if you are under 18 or post thinspo/ED content.

Word Count: 7.3k

Warnings: Death, murder, violence. Marital infidelity, emotional manipulation. Implications of kidnapping and prolonged captivity. Sexually explicit content that involves coercion (dubcon re: degradation, choking, bondage, and unprotected sex). Do not interact if you are under 18.

The Traveling Wilburys song that was playing in Taylor’s Drug Store only served to remind you of how old the place was. You stopped in to pick up a prescription for your husband and do some light shopping. The interior hadn’t been updated since at least the ‘80s, save for the digital cash registers and security cameras, a monitor above the glass doors where you walked in reminding you that you were being watched. You shuffled along the scuffed linoleum tile, shopping basket on your arm as you looked at the shelf of painkillers.

Throwing a bottle into the basket, you continued along, trying to remember what you had put on your mental list and coming up blank. You went to the snack aisle, figuring it wouldn’t hurt to grab a bag of chips. While considering whether to go with barbecue or sour cream and onion, you noticed a man walk over just a few feet away from you, holding a basket filled with odds and ends. Normally, you minded your own business, but you turned your head to get a better look at him. He was tall, wearing a well-worn flannel shirt that made you wonder for a brief moment what it’d be like to have your legs thrown over his broad shoulders. Despite the trucker cap pulled snugly over his mess of brown hair, almost covering his eyes, his profile seemed hauntingly familiar until it dawned on you—Bo Sinclair.

You could remember Bo being a cocky troublemaker with no regard for his own personal safety, regularly getting into fights in and out of school. With a swoon-worthy smile and an attitude that made your mother emphasize to stay the hell away from him, you did have a bit of a crush on Bo, one that you kept locked in a box to wither and die when your family moved out of Ambrose. Years had passed, though. You’d changed so much since high school. Undoubtedly, he had to have changed too.

Fuck it. You’d been in town a little over a month and had yet to make any friends. It was nice to see a familiar face—a handsome one at that.

“Bo Sinclair?” you exclaimed, as if you hadn’t spent the past ten seconds staring at him out of the corner of your eye.

As expected, his eyes didn’t light up in recognition when he saw you. In fact, he seemed startled and suspicious. Brows furrowed, he stood stiff as he straightened his posture as you approached him in the snack aisle. His hostility made you second guess your decision to approach him, but you’d already made a spectacle of yourself. Nothing else to do but follow through and hope for the best.

“I’m not sure if you remember me. My family moved out of Ambrose at the end of our junior year, but—“

He relaxed a bit, giving you a grin that made you want to throw your wedding ring on the ground. “Now I know I must be dreamin’ if I see Y/N standin’ in front of me.”

You smiled. “Yeah, you look great—I mean, y’know, it’s great to see you.”

“It’s great to see you too, doll. Ain’t many familiar faces ‘round anymore.”

“Do you live in town, or—“

“Still in Ambrose, few of us left out there,” he said. “Most of the stores shut down, so I gotta drive out here for stuff.”

“Well, maybe I’ll see you around, then. I just moved here a few weeks ago, and I still don’t really know anyone.”

“You mean you and your husband just moved here,” he said, motioning to your wedding ring.

“Yeah,” you sighed.

You had just barely missed it, the gleam in his eye at your response. Somehow, you suppressed the chill that threatened to run down your spine. That much hadn’t changed about him, the darkness that reared its ugly head whenever you found yourself getting too comfortable around him.

Just as quickly, he claimed he had to get going but that you’d see him again. You gave him a half-hearted goodbye, taking his promise with a disappointing grain of salt.

Looking at the bags of chips yet again, you grabbed several, intending to spend the rest of the day marinating in your loneliness with snacks and movies until your husband arrived home from work. Maybe you could talk him into getting takeout rather than you having to cook.

The half-empty house was eerily quiet when you arrived back, ignoring the unopened cardboard boxes that had been taunting you for weeks. Unpacking on your own was a monumental undertaking, since your husband worked so much during the week and spent the weekends doing home repairs that you weren’t able to take care of on your own.

The red light on the answering machine was flashing, and as you set your shopping bags down, you would have bet a million bucks on who the message was from and what it said.

You folded your arms as you listened to the message, huffing discontentedly under your breath. “Hey honey, I’m working late tonight. We hit some snags with that big project for the quarter. Don’t wait up for me. I’m not sure when I’ll be home. Love you.”

“Yeah right,” you scoffed aloud, pressing the button to delete the message.

Just because it didn’t surprise you, it didn’t mean your feelings weren’t hurt. You’d suspected for a long time that your husband had been cheating on you, though you could never prove as much. Still, it didn’t take a genius to put together the consistent late nights, how he’d finally arrive home with the scent of another woman’s perfume lingering on his clothes as if to taunt you. The part of you that was still a little bit in love with him had hoped that the move would bring the two of you closer together, and for the first week, it did. Then, he started at his shiny new job and found someone to scratch his itch just as quickly.

Being in a new town meant you didn’t have your normal circle of friends to gossip and air grievances with, and doing so on the phone wasn’t the same. You wondered if they’d forget about you eventually, tuck you away in a corner of their minds that they didn’t explore often. It wasn’t as if you hadn’t done the same, running into Bo Sinclair earlier that day was the first time you’d even thought about him since high school.

Your morbid curiosity getting the better of you, you wondered where your old high school yearbooks were. Looking at the intimidating stacks of cardboard boxes on the other side of the room, you wracked your brain for where you would have packed them.

The cardboard box labeled ‘photo albums’ proved your gut right, as you dug through it to find your high school yearbooks. The familiar blue and gold design that covered each of the books sent a rush of conflicting emotions through you. Fuck, did anyone actually enjoy high school?

Even back then, Ambrose had been such a small town that to save money, the county had the middle school and high school in the same building. There were so few of you left that it hardly made a difference. Students often had to go to surrounding high schools to participate in extracurriculars and varsity sports. Families who saw college scholarships as their kids’ ticket to a better life would put thousands of miles on their cars to drive them to and from practice during the school year. Your graduating class–at least what was supposed to be your graduating class–couldn’t have been more than forty people.

Such a small town with an even smaller school meant everyone knew each other’s business. It was suffocating. Still, you opened the yearbook from your junior year of high school and flipped toward the back of the thin book, skimming past the R’s and to the S’s. You studied his photo, strange yet familiar. Handsome with his messy brown hair and cocky grin, you wiped at the paper, assuming there was some kind of smudge on his cheekbone until you realized, no, it was a bruise.

Beauregard Sinclair. You’d forgotten that was his first name, not that anyone ever called him that anyway. You certainly never did. Vandalism, fighting, and hot-wiring cars were his hobbies of choice back then. He did well in shop, you knew as much because your home ec teacher bitched about how the shop instructor pulled some strings to let him stay in the class, even after he swung a wrench in another guy’s face and knocked out three of his teeth during class. You’d see him at house parties, lurking in the shadows with a dangerous and almost feral gleam in his eyes, a beer in his hand as he waited for the right time to pounce on a tipsy target. More reason to stay away from him, your high school best friend who you hadn’t spoken to in years would whisper to you. He was young, then, troubled and immature. The man you spoke with in the convenience store was so different–confident and flirty, a strong, blue collar man you should have pursued instead of being blinded by the false promises of white collar domesticity. Damn.

You looked at the photo directly to the right of Bo’s. A boy with long hair who seemed to shrink into himself, as if to be in as little of the picture as possible. You squinted to make out his odd expression–the mask, how could you forget the mask.

Vincent Sinclair. You remembered Vincent, odd and quiet, though by the end of freshman year no one said anything about it. Bo had beat that out of more than enough people that the gossip was only whispers. The two of you had several classes together. Perhaps because you were one of few students who actually gave Vincent the time of day, your US History teacher had assigned you as partners for the final project, an essay on a past president with a visual element to accompany it. Luck was on your side when you reached into the bowl at the front of the classroom to draw the name of the president you and Vincent would cover—John F. Kennedy. While most of the other duos made poster boards or had someone dress up for the visual element of their project, Vincent had crafted an incredibly detailed wax diorama of the Kennedy assassination that almost got the two of you sent to the principal’s office because the blood splatter looked a little too realistic for your teacher's taste.

You set the yearbook down, wracking your brain for the name of the youngest Sinclair brother, a friendly boy who’d run around Ambrose barefoot and often covered in mud. He had just started middle school when your family moved, but you’d seen him briefly in the two times you had gone to the Sinclair house to work on the history project with Vincent. Linus? Leonard? Lester.

In all honesty, you didn’t remember Lester very well. All of the Sinclairs were odd, though. Their father was a doctor, but not the kind your parents ever wanted you to go to. Their mother’s wax sculptures lost their appeal after you turned about 10, the last year that you’d go to the wax museum as a school trip. Mr. and Mrs. Sinclair had always been nice enough to you, but in the second grade, Bo had cut off one of Cindy Jacobs’ pigtails during craft time. He came into school the next day with a black eye, his already scarred wrists an angry red. You could never bring yourself to like the Sinclairs after that.

Slamming the yearbook shut, you closed your eyes, trying to keep memories of Ambrose at bay. Maybe it was for the best that your family moved. You took a deep breath before throwing the yearbook back into the box you found it in and retrieving a bag of chips.

Your husband had already put together the entertainment center, all of your VHS tapes and DVDs well-organized. They were one of the first things you unpacked. After briefly pondering your first movie choice of the evening, you grabbed The Postman Always Rings Twice and put it into the VHS player.

As you settled onto the couch with your bowl of chips, the black and white screen was your security blanket, lulling you to forgetting your woes and instead on Lana Turner and John Garfield making the screen their home for the following two hours. You’d fallen asleep on the couch just before the movie ended, and your husband didn’t bother waking you up when he arrived home at some point that night, because you woke up with a crick in your neck and a note on the fridge that he’d be working late again. You threw the dirty plate he’d left in the sink at the wall. It didn’t make you feel much better.

The rest of the week dragged on as you went about unpacking on your own, your husband working his usual late nights.

When you pulled into the parking lot of Taylor’s Drug Store the next Thursday afternoon, the same day and time you saw Bo the previous week, you couldn’t help but feel a little bit pathetic for deliberately planning your shopping trip around the possibility of running into him again.

Any negative feelings that festered within you on the short walk from your car into the drug store vanished as soon as you walked inside, seeing Bo standing in the shampoo aisle, brows furrowed as he stood in front of the dozens of bottles on the shelves. This time, however, he was dressed in a mechanic’s work shirt and jeans, his cap still pulled over his face, cigarette tucked behind his ear.

“Hi Bo,” you said as you approached him.

He grunted in response. “Huh? Oh, hey, Y/N.”

“3-in-1 not cutting it?”

“You always had a smart mouth?” he said, glaring at you. For a split second, you thought he was angry with you for your quip. “Vincent needs one with this Jujube shit in it. I don’t even know what the fuck I’m lookin’ at.”

“Jojoba oil? Here,” you said, grabbing a shampoo bottle and handing it to him. “He still got long hair?”

He nodded. “Yeah, he ain’t got it cut in a long time.”

“It suited him,” you said.

“I’ll let ‘im know you said so,” he grinned. “You always come in here on Thursday afternoons?”

“I do now.”

“Sure know how to make a guy feel special.”

“Do you wanna get coffee?” you asked, feeling foolishly bold.

He raised an eyebrow. “Your husband gonna be alright with that?”

“I don’t care,” you answered. So what if people thought it was a date, it’d be about time your husband got a taste of his own medicine.

“Well, we can at least pretend you care about your reputation and go somewhere a little bit outside of town.”

You smiled. “Sounds like you already got a place in mind.”

He wasted no time in throwing the rest of what he needed into his shopping basket while you picked up your husband’s prescription, not bothering to grab anything else that was on your list. It wasn’t like you had any other plans for the week.

You followed his truck to a small roadside diner, a greasy spoon type of place family would go to some weekends growing up as a treat. Even though you’d already eaten lunch before going shopping, the smell coming from the restaurant when you got out of your car was tempting enough for you to consider seeing what they had on the menu.

The restaurant’s decor was simple, old yet charming, and as indicated by the handful of cars in the gravel parking lot outside, there weren’t many people there. A friendly-looking older woman sat you and Bo in a booth, the kind with worn out upholstery that cracked in some places to reveal the cushion underneath. You couldn’t help but smile when you sat down.

“Hi there, what can I get started for y’all?” the waitress asked.

“Just coffee for me,” you said.

Bo nodded, pulling the cigarette from behind his ear and sticking it in his mouth as he muttered, “Same for me. Thank ya, ma’am.”

“You got it,” she said.

He lit a cigarette, leaning back in the booth seat a bit. Of course he managed to find one of the few places that still allowed smoking indoors. Looking at his hands, you didn’t notice any kind of wedding band on any of his fingers. The waitress returned to the table less than a minute later with two mugs of hot coffee, pointing out the creamer and sugar at the end of the table.

“So, are you working as a mechanic now?” you asked, fixing the coffee to your preference.

He smiled. “What gave it away?”

“Shut up,” you laughed. “You were always great in shop class. Didn’t you help one of the teachers fix their car once?”

“Vice principal, and he got me out of a suspension for it.”

“Do you work around here?”

“Got my own place in Ambrose. You’d be surprised how many people end up with car trouble in the middle of nowhere.”

“I’m really happy for you,” you said, trying to suffocate the ‘what if’ scenario that began making itself comfortable in your mind. Visions of helping him run a small family business, a kid or two with your smile and his eyes hanging around left you with a lump in your throat. “How are your parents?”

“Folks kicked the can a while ago. Nothin’ really you could do,” he said with a shrug.

“Yeah, mine too,” you said. “How about your brothers?”

“They’re good,” he answered. “Just doin’ their thing.”

“I’m glad to hear it. Any weddings, or—“

“Nope. But how long ago d’you tie the knot?”

“‘Bout four years.”

“You don’t sound happy about it.”

You paused, considering how to phrase your answer as you played with the ring on your finger that suddenly felt like it weighed a ton. Growing up, you and Bo weren’t what you considered friends, but his familiarity made you feel comfortable. Still, you felt odd airing your marital woes to a man you were supposed to just be catching up with over coffee.

It was one thing bitching about it with your friends, most of whom had their own relationship issues, offering you the validation you were seeking. Your strained marriage had come to define your life, as embarrassing as it was to acknowledge.

“Things were good for the first year or so, but after that, I could tell he was getting bored. No matter what I did, it felt like I was an obligation,” you said. “Then the late nights at work started, and by the time I realized what he was pulling, I didn’t know what to do.”

“Why not get divorced?”

“I haven’t worked in years. I’d be on my ass, and he knows it. Sometimes, I think he took the job out here so he could fuck around behind my back and not have my family or friends breathing down his neck about it.”

“Maybe he does it ‘cause he knows you’ll be a pushover about it.”

You scoffed. “I ain’t a pushover.”

“He’s only been pullin’ this shit for so long because he knows you’ll just take it,” he said, the cigarette pointed at your face punctuating his harsh words. “Sometimes when people do ya wrong, they don’t get the message ‘till you show ‘em.”

Clenching your jaw, you looked out the window, avoiding the knowing expression on his face. He was right. Your marriage had been on the rocks for far longer than things had ever been good, but you couldn’t bring yourself to be the one to initiate the end. It was long overdue, and you knew with his history of infidelity that you could get a decent settlement from a divorce.

Perhaps you couldn’t admit to yourself that your marriage was nothing more than a dead horse you just kept beating. Throwing in the towel on your relationship felt like failure and inadequacy, which left a sour taste in your mouth. Things couldn’t continue as they were, though. You had to do something.

You frowned a bit, looking at the clock on the wall behind Bo. He startled you by snuffing out his cigarette in the ashtray on the table, the rattling bringing your attention back to him.

“Got somewhere you need to be?” he asked.

“Nope, he won’t be home for another three or four hours. I got nothin’ but time.”

“Me too.”

You nodded, suddenly feeling shy and averting your attention to the empty coffee mug in front of you, tapping your nails against the ceramic. He put his hand over yours, the clinking noise ceasing as you mustered up the courage to look at him again. As soon as your eyes met his, you were a goner the moment he whispered something about a nearby motel that charged for rooms by the hour, his lips curling into a dangerous grin when you merely nodded in response.

It felt like you blinked and he had paid the check, pulled you outside with him, and led you to his truck, your heart hammering like it did when you were sixteen. The motel was just as sleazy as you’d expected, but when the clerk handed the room key to Bo after he’d gotten it for two hours, you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

As soon as the door opened, it just as quickly slammed shut, Bo grabbing your purse from you and throwing it aside as he trapped you between himself and the wall, feeling as though you were shrinking beneath his intense gaze. When you tried to avert your gaze, he grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him, and you did. For the first time since you were in high school, you really looked at Bo Sinclair. He was just as handsome and terrifying as you remembered him being back then. You wanted him just as much as you did back then, too.

He growled his one and only warning, “I ain’t gonna be gentle with ya, darlin’.”

“I—alright,” you said.

Your hesitance didn’t deter him at all. The kiss that followed was devoid of any romance, but you supposed you’d settle for passion. You kissed him back, trying to keep up with how much of you he wanted. Your open mouth, free for him to claim with his tongue, suddenly felt foreign to you, as if it were no longer your own. Oddly enough, it reminded you of your first kiss.

Despite being a memory you hadn’t revisited in at least a decade, as you replayed it in your mind, you could remember it a bit more clearly. Bo’s truck idling in the driveway, the radio playing soft as the two of you talked. He’d driven you home at his mother’s request as you’d stayed at the Sinclair house late to work on your project with Vincent. You had kept glancing at the front door, waiting for it to swing open and one of your incensed parents to drag you out by your hair for being alone in a car with a boy for so long.

Then, taking you by surprise, he had kissed you, far rougher than you’d anticipated your first kiss being, especially when he tried pulling you onto his lap when you actually kissed him back. You remembered your heart hammering in your chest when he pawed at your thighs. Something else had happened which you couldn’t quite remember. You had felt shameful and uncomfortable when you walked into your parents’ house.

You gasped, brought back to reality when he stripped you of your shirt and bra, exposing your skin to the cool air in the motel room. He unbuckled his belt, and so quickly you could hardly process what he was doing, he grabbed your wrists, binding them tightly with the worn leather so that your skin chafed whenever you so much as tried to move your hands.

If anything, it seemed your shocked and worried expression only served as motivation for him to rid you of the rest of your clothes, pushing you onto the dingy bed as he took off his own clothes, his wild eyes glued to your nude and vulnerable figure.

He stroked his hard cock in his hand as he approached you. “You’re gonna take all of it, ain’t ya?”

“Bo, I don’t know—“

“Don’t act stupid, doll,” he grinned, licking his lips. “It ain’t a good look on you.”

He slid two fingers in your pussy, kissing you as he pumped them in and out of you, and you moaned against his lips. Sure, you’d used vibrators and dildos to make up for your husband’s lack of attention, but you were almost overwhelmed at getting the real thing from a man who actually wanted you, even if it was on such dubious terms.

When he pulled his hand away, your whine at the emptiness became a strangled moan when he slid his cock inside you. His thrusts were harsh and unforgiving, as if he were punishing you for something. Maybe you deserved it for being unfaithful to your husband. You’d initiated everything with Bo until the moment you stepped into the motel room.

You felt helpless beneath him, your bound wrists emphasizing what little control you now had over your body. The way his thrusts became more erratic, sweat beading on his forehead, you knew he was close. You could only imagine the state you were in.

“Gonna fill you up real good,” he groaned.

“Not inside, Bo. Don’t—“

He covered your mouth with his hand that he’d used to finger you. “What? Lil’ slut don’t want my cock all of a sudden? ‘S all you were thinkin’ about when we were sittin’ in that booth earlier.”

You shook your head frantically, unsure of whether you were doing so in protest of his cumming inside you or his taunts. A pathetic whimper came muffled from your lips, and he cursed under his breath, thrusting harder.

“Your pathetic fuckin’ husband don’t make you feel this good huh?”

Again, you shook your head. Sex with your husband was painfully boring. This was more painful than pleasurable, and you considered if you were the pathetic one for being so desperate for attention you’d let your old high school crush treat you with such brutality. You hated how the smug grin on his handsome face made you feel, wishing for a moment you could smack it off of him.

His calloused fingers were ruthless on your sensitive clit, and your stomach tightened as you felt yourself nearing orgasm, struggling to catch your breath with his hand over your mouth. You were dizzy and could feel a tear roll down your cheek from the overstimulation. Digging your nails into the leather of his belt that was still secure around your wrists, you writhed as you came, your pussy clenching around his cock. His own orgasm followed soon after, and you felt him bottom out inside you, cursing under his breath as his cum filled you.

When he pulled out, he pulled his hand away from your mouth, leaving you humiliated at the string of saliva that went along with it. He, on the other hand, didn’t mind as he licked it up, almost to your disbelief.

Freeing your wrists from the restraints of his belt, he threw it aside and settled next to you on the bed. You rubbed your sore wrists, but found the additional friction only made them sting more. For a split second, you wondered how you were going to explain your soreness and the raw skin to your husband. You let out a frustrated exhale. He probably wouldn’t even notice, or maybe he would, but not mention anything, the same way you never called him on the proverbial lipstick on his collar.

A pit of shame and discomfort formed in your stomach as you lay next to Bo, but chalked it up to cheating on your husband for the first time. He deserved it, after all he put you through. You’d thought about cheating on him before, wanting desperately to for so long, but in your mind, it was more on your own terms, as an active participant rather than how Bo threw you around.

Turning over to face him, he was sitting against the headboard, a smoldering cigarette between his fingers. You scooted over, throwing an arm over his bare torso as you rested your head against his chest. He stiffened, but before you could move away, he pulled you a little closer.

The two of you spoke softly for the next hour or so, before finally getting up from the bed. Neither of you said much when you got dressed, you waiting by his truck while he turned in the room key. He drove you back to your car, which you’d left at the restaurant.

“See you next week?” you asked quietly, the slightest bit of hesitation in your voice.

He grinned. “You can bet on it, darlin’.”

This rendezvous continued for the next few weeks, the two of you eventually stopping the pretense of getting coffee altogether and meeting at the motel once or twice a week. Whenever you’d see him, he’d have a new bruise or scratch somewhere, claiming it was just a byproduct of his work. That didn’t explain the scratches that looked like someone had clawed the hell out of his arm. He never mentioned having a cat, and while you knew better to assume the two of you were exclusive, you wished he wouldn’t lie about it.

Though generally you knew what to expect from him, it was as if each time you had sex he was testing your limits, pushing you further than you were comfortable at times. Still, you were worried that if you protested too much, he wouldn’t want to see you anymore, and you’d be on your own again.

“He’s gonna be out of town this weekend for a work trip, at least that’s what he says. You wanna stay over?” you asked as you got dressed, taking care to keep the fabric away from the fresh bruises on your hips.

“You askin’ me to defile your literal marriage bed?”

“Yeah, and I’ll cook dinner too.”

He laughed. “You drive a hard bargain.”

In the days leading up to Bo staying for the weekend, you could hardly contain your excitement. You didn’t know anyone to have a housewarming party, so you never got the chance to show off the house to anyone. It was neat enough, but you wanted the place to be spotless, each room cleaned and unpacked so you could indulge in your increasingly frequent fantasies of Bo coming through the front door at the end of the day.

As much as you didn’t want to admit it to yourself, you were excited for the gossip. You had a cordial enough relationship with your neighbors, but you wanted them to see the truck that certainly wasn’t your husband’s in the driveway, the handsome man leaving your house Sunday afternoon looking far too disheveled and satisfied for an innocent weekend visit. What’s more, you wanted them to hear you, no doubt what you were up to while your husband was away, word eventually getting to him that his wife was stepping out on him. Finally he’d get a taste of his own bitter medicine.

Your husband hadn’t bothered returning home after work on Friday, bringing his suitcase to work with him in the morning so he could head straight to the airport from the office. You honestly didn’t remember where he was going, and you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Not when a little after six, you heard the knock that made you rush to the front door.

A change from his usual work shirt, worn out jeans, and cap, Bo stood on your front porch in a dress shirt and nicer jeans. You smiled, giving him a kiss on the lips for the neighborhood to see. Moving from the doorway, you felt a bit nervous for him to see where you lived.

“Some place ya got here,” he said, looking around.

“It’s his. My name’s nowhere to be found on the mortgage,” you said.

“The guy buys a house like this and is barely in it?”

You shrugged. “I don’t get it either. I’ll give you the grand tour later, though. For dinner I was thinking chicken fried steak, mashed potatoes, and I forgot to get a vegetable so that’s just gonna be frozen green beans,” you said as you walked into the kitchen.

“As great as that sounds, I was thinkin’ of startin’ with dessert first,” he responded, his gaze hungry as he took in the sight of you standing in what had become your natural element.

“The bedroom’s right up those stairs,” you whispered, glancing toward the staircase.

He grinned. “Lead the way, darlin’.”

Taking his hand, you led him upstairs and down the hallway, past the closed doors of the empty spare bedroom and hardly stocked guest bathroom. Your bedroom door, however, was wide open. You’d never admit the amount of time you spent cleaning it before he came over, at least wanting a nicer experience than the dingy motel rooms that the two of you had been accustomed to having sex in.

He hardly took a look around before pushing you back onto your own bed, kissing you as he slid one of his knees between your legs, pressing it against your clothed pussy.

“You know what I wanna see you do tonight?” he asked, his voice low.

“What’s that?”

He practically spat his answer back. “Ride my leg like a bitch in heat.”

Your breath hitched, and you nodded, wasting no time in moving over so he could sit on the edge of the bed. When you reached for the hem of your shirt to start undressing, he clicked his tongue.

“Clothes on, darlin’,” he said, patting his thigh.

You could feel your face heat up as you settled on his lap. Doing this fully clothed left you with a sense of humiliation you weren’t sure whether or not you liked. Slowly, you grinded your hips against his leg, holding onto his shoulders for support.

His hand slipped between you, his fingers rubbing your clit through your panties while the other squeezed your hips. You could feel your orgasm building up when he pulled his hand away from your clit suddenly, giving you a cruel grin in response to your look of betrayal.

He smacked your ass. “C’mon now, you gotta work for it.”

It didn’t take you long to get a rhythm going from there, squeezing his shoulders and letting out high-pitched whines of frustration as you chased the pleasure that seemed just out of reach. Something in your core tightened, and you desperately tried to get more friction from the rough material of his jeans to your aching, clothed pussy.

Biting your lip, your eyes fluttered shut for a brief moment as you considered the situation you were in, humping the leg of a man who wasn’t your husband in your shared bed while he was none the wiser. It was wrong and debauched, but it made you wetter than your husband ever had.

“Jesus Christ, ya really are a lil’ bitch in heat, gettin’ my nice pants fuckin’ soaked,” he taunted, flexing his thigh as you rutted your hips against it.

You moaned, hiding your face in the crook of his neck. “Bo, fuck, I’m close.”

“What the fuck?”

You felt like someone had dumped a bucket of cold water on you upon hearing your husband’s voice. Turning around to look at him, he was furious—and marching right toward you.

He pulled you off of Bo, and you landed painfully on the ground. Just when you thought he’d start in on you, he punched Bo square in the jaw. Pushing yourself off the floor, you narrowly avoided the two men beating the shit out of each other in your bedroom. Your husband managed to get a solid kick to Bo’s leg, and his knees buckled as your husband readied himself to land another blow.

“Fuck you! Get off of him! Get off—“ without thinking, you grabbed the lamp off of the nightstand and swung directly at your husband’s head.

The ceramic base shattered upon impact. He collapsed to the ground, blood slowly pooling from his head, though his limbs continued to twitch. You dropped the broken lamp, eyes wide in shock at what you’d just done.

“Oh my god. Oh my god—what am I gonna—“

You looked to Bo, who despite his split lip, was shockingly unbothered by the situation as he stood up. From the floor, your husband emitted a groan, choking on his own blood.

“He’s still alive. Oh fuck, call an ambulance or-or—“

Bo rolled his eyes, grabbing the cord from the lamp and strangling your husband with it until he stopped making noise. You turned away to vomit on the carpet.

“Are you finished? ‘Cause the way you were carryin’ on, there ain’t no way one ‘a your neighbors haven’t called the cops by now.”

“What do I do? I mean, can we say it was self defense?”

He kicked over your husband’s limp body, showing you the damage in all its bloody glory. “That look like self defense to you?”

“Fuck. Bo, I can’t go to jail. I can’t—“

“Darlin’, no one’s goin’ to jail. You just gotta do exactly what I say. Got it?” he grabbed your face, pulling your attention from your dead husband to him. “Got it?”

“Okay,” you whispered.

He instructed you to break the lock on the front door, and then gather any valuables you could. Your stomach lurched when you realized he wanted to stage a break in, your husband an unfortunate casualty and you abducted in the fray. It was genius, but worrisome how quickly he came up with the idea.

As you set the scene of your now ex-husband’s untimely demise, you tried not to think about how Bo didn’t hesitate to kill him, cold and calculated. No time to consider the implications. You’d made your bed, and there was nothing to do but lie in it—except you couldn’t even do that, because your husband’s blood was splattered all over it.

You took one last look at the house, knowing whatever Bo had in mind involved you leaving and never coming back. The thought evoked no emotions in you. The place was never a home, somewhere you felt particularly attached to. Instead it served as a facade, an ornate casket that was fit for your marriage to formally be laid to rest in.

Upon returning to your bedroom, you grabbed your duffel bag, the one you’d kept packed and hidden in your closet for when you’d meet Bo at the motel. Shoving what you could into the bag and your purse, you attempted to appear casual as you walked outside, putting your things in his truck and waiting for him to join you. You wished you had time to clean yourself up before leaving, feeling self-conscious of getting your husband’s blood and your own wetness on the passenger seat.

Your heart skipped a beat when he opened the driver’s side door a few minutes later, but you calmed down a bit when you saw it was him. Wordlessly, he started up the truck, leaving the headlights off as he slowly drove up your street. When he turned them on a few blocks away from your house, you let yourself breathe a little easier, but you weren’t off the hook yet, not until you got the hell outta town.

“You passed the turn for the motel,” you observed.

“We’re not goin’ there.”

“Then where—“

“Ambrose. Ain’t no one gonna look for ya there.”

“It’ll be all over the news. Anyone could see me and turn me in,” you said.

“They won’t. Trust me,” he said, his firm tone giving you the assurance you were seeking.

He continued driving, the old country backroads becoming more and more familiar to you. So many times when you’d thought back to your youth, you wondered what was a dream or a memory, but these narrow, pothole-littered roads confirmed it was all real.

As soon as you saw the sign welcoming you to Ambrose, you felt like you could finally breathe. The sign had definitely seen better days, but it didn’t matter. You were home.

“God, it’s like nothing’s changed,” you whispered, mostly to yourself as Bo drove up Main Street, passing the places your teen spirit would haunt when life seemed so complicated but was still so simple.

“A few things have,” he said, “but yeah, ya know how people are ‘round here.”

You nodded, about to respond when you noticed the gas station coming up. “Wait, can we stop here? I wanna see your shop.”

He hesitated for a moment but obliged, wordlessly pulling into the station and turning off his truck. You got out, leaning into him when he wrapped his arm around you. Being in your hometown again filled you with conflicting emotions, but the safety you felt on Main Street slowly began to fade as soon as you stepped foot in the gas station.

“So you run this place on your own?”

“Yeah, just me. Not enough people comin’ by to warrant extra help, but—“

He was interrupted by the sound of metal clanking and what you could have sworn was a woman’s muffled screams.

“Bo, what was that?” you asked, anxiety lacing your words as you stepped closer to the source of the noise.

He sucked on his teeth, the sound making your skin crawl. “Nothin’ you need to worry about.”

You stopped in your tracks, feeling yourself become dizzy as the distressed yelling didn’t stop. It sounded far too clear to be your imagination. “What the hell did you do?”

“See, if I was you, I wouldn’t be showin’ so much hostility to the man who saved your ass from the electric chair,” he snapped. “‘Less you want me to drag your ass to the cops that’re crawlin’ all over your house by now?”

“Bo, c’mon,” you whispered, feeling tears well up in your eyes.

“Just get back in the damn truck,” he said, his voice low.

You nodded, dazed as you made the short walk back to his truck. Sitting in the passenger seat, you put your head in your hands, trying to figure out how your life got fucked up so quickly. You’d never know what brought your husband home from his work trip early—if that was even the case, maybe he had his own plans to cheat over the weekend that didn’t work out, his usual squeeze standing him up.

There were so many what if’s that raced through your mind, like if you hadn’t impulsively grabbed the lamp and made the situation go from bad to worse. The way Bo had escalated things to absolute worst by dealing the death blow to your husband, cold and calculated, suddenly made sense. Even if your husband had approached the situation calmly, you knew Bo wouldn’t do the same. It would have come to fruition at some point, but you didn’t expect it to be so soon.

When Bo returned to the truck, you noticed the fresh blood on his knuckles as he grabbed the steering wheel, but didn’t mention it. What was there to say? It wasn’t like you could do anything to help whoever he had trapped somewhere in that gas station. It did explain the scratches and bruises he’d show up to the motel with.

“So, how about that dinner you were gonna make? I’m starvin’,” he said nonchalantly, the key in the ignition making the engine roar to life.

Staring blankly ahead, you whispered something about mashed potatoes. He gave you an unreadable glance from the driver’s seat before throwing his arm over your shoulder and driving up the street to his place, the Sinclair family’s house atop a hill. When he drove past your childhood home, the lights were on inside. You wondered who lived there now.

#bo sinclair x reader #slasher x reader #bo sinclair x female reader #slasher fandom #slasher community #house of wax #house of wax 2005 #slashers #bo sinclair

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lulu2992 · 3 months

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Uncovering the unreleased Far Cry 5 in-game Encyclopedia

The almost complete but unused in-game encyclopedia, reconstructed thanks to the oasisstrings file.

Please note that it’s still cut content, so some information might not be relevant anymore.

You can read the oasisstrings file here. Pictures from this encyclopedia were also extracted and posted by @xbaebsae here.

Part 3: Locations - Whitetail Mountains

PIN-K0 Radar Station

Part of the Pine Line early warning system, the K0 facility was shuttered in the early 90's and left to the elements.

Rattlesnake Trail Bridge

A footbridge along the Makwa Trail, it connects one side of the gorge to the other, like bridges are supposed to do.

Snowshoe Lake

A clear glacial lake high up in the Whitetail Mountains. The water is always near freezing which makes skinny dipping a terrible idea.

Hunter’s Pass Shelter

A remote cabin used as a place to warm up or stay the night by hunters.

Ozhigwan Falls

One of the highest in the area, Ozhigwan falls is one of the natural wonders of the Park.... just don't step too close.

Jefferson Lookout Tower

A watch tower in the middle of the forest, meant to keep an eye out for forest fires or bears... or bears on fire.

Whitetail Park Visitor Center

It's where you'd go to find out what's going on at Whitetail Park, back when it was operational.

Hawkeye Tunnel

A tunnel through the mountain that offers a bird's eye view of the valley below.

Whitetail Park Ranger Station

The Ranger Station that patrols the Whitetail Park to keep it safe back when it was still open.

McKinley Dam

Named after the 25th president of the United States, McKinley Dam is used to regulate water and supply power to the people of Hope County.

Jacob’s Armory

Jacob has converted part of the McKinley Dam power station to be used as sanctuary against the coming apocalypse.

Grand View Hotel

The historic hotel in the Whitetail Mountains it was once the crown jewel of the park. Financial problems shut it down in the 80's. It's been empty ever since.

North Park Entrance

The Northern most entrance to Whitetail Park, abandoned now that the park is closed.

Bo’s Cave

A renown survivalist, Bo lives deep in forest. He is completely off the grid with none of the comforts of modern life.

Cooper Cabin

Another cabin that can be rented at Whitetail Park. Lately has been used as a safe-house by the Whitetail Militia.

Red Tail Cabin

A cabin in Whitetail Park that Eli's Militia use to take refuge from the constant attacks from Jacob's patrols.

F.A.N.G. Center

Friends of the Animals Nursing Grounds is home to Cheeseburger the Bear. Feeding times are 12:00 and 6:00 daily.

St. Francis Veteran's Center

A medical center for returning veterans, St. Francis was shuttered in the 90's when a more modern facility was constructed in a nearby county. When Eden's Gate moved in, Jacob found use for it as a place to indoctrinate his new recruits.

Lansdowne Airstrip

A small airstrip used by the locals for shipping in supplies and sightseeing tours.

Elliot Residence

Home to Rick Elliot and his family, one of the last people to holdout against Jacob and his army.

The Grill Streak

When Chad's diner was burned to the ground he retreated to his food truck. He still works hard to find food for Eli and his Militia.

Breakthrough Camp

A camp where parents sent their rebellious youth in order to get a taste of clean, wholesome outdoor living.

Old Sun Outfitters

The main supply store for camping and survival gear in the area. Seeing the writing on the wall, the owners closed shop and left while they still could.

Baron Lumber Mill

The Baron family lumber mill was already failing financially when Eden's Gate moved in and bought it out.

McNeill Residence

This house once belonged to the McNeill family before they were deemed sinners in the eyes of the cult and were forced to flee.

Linero Building Supplies

A small building supply store that sold lumber and materials. The owners ended up joining Eden's Gate, though not all of them willingly.

Haskell Lookout Tower

A watch tower overlooking the north region of the Whitetail Park.

Fort Drubman

Pretty much all the Hurk Sr. has left after his divorce from Adelaide. It's from here he runs his senate campaign with the dubious help of his son, Hurk Jr.

MCA Mobile Lab

A mobile lab where the Montana Conservation Authority conducts research on the local flora and fauna.

Loresca Residence

Former residence of Jay Loresca, former Navy Seal. Rumor has it he joined the Whitetails, but it's certain that he’s long gone.

Whitetail Mountains Rail Bridge

A bridge connecting the Henbane River and the Whitetail Mountains. It's been out of use ever since the Copperhead Rail stopped running.

Elk Jaw Lodge

Part of the Whitetail Park the Elk Jaw Lodge was a nice place to relax near Silver Lake. Now... not so much.

Wolf’s Den

The secret bunker of the Whitetail Militia, home to Eli, their leader, as well as Tammy and Wheaty.

Oberlin Picnic Area

A nice place for a group to sit down, eat, and take in baseball game at the nearby diamond.

Osprey Cabin

One of the many cabins that visitors can rent at Whitetail Park. Named after birds of prey, thy are the perfect hiding places for Eli's Militia.

Kestrel Cabin

One of the handful of individual cabins available to rent at Whitetail Park.

Mansfield Lookout Tower

An abandoned fire watch tower overlooking the southern region of Whitetail Park.

Frank’s Cabin

A cabin owned by a recluse known as Lonely Frank. He seems to like it that way.

Dansky Cabin

This is where Dicky Dansky comes to write his books about Sasquatches, Bigfoot, and other cryptids.

Valley View Overlook

A place for visitors to stop and take in the view of the forest below.

Stone Ridge Chalet

High up on a rocky ridge is a Chalet where hunters and park visitors could come and warm up.

Silver Lake Parking Lot

A nice place to stop and take a refreshing dip in nearby Silver Lake.

Clagett Boathouse

A boathouse and docks maintained by the Old Sun Outfitters.

Salvage Camp

A small camp where a salvage company is attempting to recover items from the wreck of a sunken plane

Dylan’s Master Bait Shop

In case you needed some fishing pointers... Dylan will likely just point you somewhere else.

Langford Falls Parking Lot

A spot for visitors to pause and take in the beauty of the nearby Langford Falls.

Widow’s Creek

One of Skylar's favorite fishing spots. She'll probably tell you where it got its name.

Fowler’s Retreat

A not-so-secret place where Dave keeps all of his extra Cheeseburger merchandise.

South Park Entrance

The southern enterance to Whitetail Park. Once the gem of Hope County, it has seen better days.

#far cry 5 #hope county #whitetail mountains #jacob seed #bo adams #cheeseburger #chad wolanski #hurk drubman jr #hurk drubman sr #eli palmer #tammy barnes #wheaty #dylan #skylar kohrs #dave fowler

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finalgwen · 1 year

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More of these Rent text posts because it's just way too much fun, also hey theatres in London, someone transfer this production, we've been good and deserve a treat.

#Rent #Hope Mill Theatre #Text Post Meme

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fiapartridge · 3 months

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quinn x oona au ! ₊˚ʚ ₊˚✧ ﾟ.

MEET OONA HASHIMOTO ☆ fc: minnie mills !

born: january 22, 2002

age: 22

career: graduated from nyu for acting and moved back to vancouver, where her family lives, because she was struggling to pay rent in ny after college. she's currently in and out of auditions.

family: she has two younger brothers (they're twins!) who are currently in high school. her mom (a therapist) is her best friend. her parents divorced when she was younger so her dad moved to california with his girlfriend. oona sees him on breaks sometimes, but they don't have a strained relationship. they text all the time. her brothers both play hockey & they're huge fans of the canucks. oona has no care for hockey, like at all.

friends: her roommate is her best friend from college! her name is gracie & they're both aspiring actors.

fun facts: she goes to japan every summer to visit her family on her mom's side, she's a frank ocean girl, she loves baking, her favorite food is strawberries, she can't ride a bike, and she lives in the apartment across from quinn's!

MEET QUINN HUGHES ☆

born: october 14, 1999

age: 24

career: defenseman and captain for the vancouver canucks.

fun facts: a cutie patootie, in love with oona, once ripped off jack's braces.

MISC. ☆

-> listen to the official spotify playlist here !

-> send in asks for the au here !

author’s note 💌 : i’ve been writing so many quinn imagines i figured i might as well make an au for him! hope u like it & i’ll try to stick this one through LOL. send in asks to get to know the au! - fiapartridge ☆

#quinn x oona au! ★#quinn hughes #vancouver canucks

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sleepy-gee · 3 months

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ache - hanahaki!coriolanus snow/sejanus plinth

is it pain, or is it love? he can't tell anymore. all he wants is the antidote.

a/n: these bitches live rent free in my head. also listen to cherry waves by deftones while writing a big chunk of this so listen to that for better vibes while reading <3

word count: 2.2k

trigger warnings: emetophobia (descriptions and depictions), blood, injuries, illness, cliffhanger ending

It started as a small scratch in the back of his throat, an annoying itch that brought up the constant urge to clear his throat. It brought a rasp with it, making him sound slightly more gruff and intimidating than he normally did- There's an upside to everything, right?

The scratch persisted after a few days, developing into a full-blown cough. Great. Another thing he had to hide in class, along with the rumbling of his stomach and his headaches, while also paying close attention to every lecture given. The boy had refilled his bottle of water more times than he could count, hoping it would help soothe his throat somewhat.

Tigris suggested he take a day off and stay home, but like that would do him any good- If he wants that prize, he has to be there every day. He's gone in with worse, ghastly flu's and killer migraines. It'll all be worth it in the end.

“You look miserable, though.” She pointed out one day, sliding a bowl of her famous cabbage stew in front of him.

Coriolanus stirred the mixture, bored of the conversation already. “It's just a cough and run-of-the-mill stress.”

“You know that's not what I mean.” Tigris sat down beside him with her own bowl. “You look like you've got the flu again.” She pressed the back of her hand against his forehead. “Something worse than that, even.”

Coriolanus nearly flinched away from the touch. He was so out of it nowadays. “If.. If it persists, I'll see about perhaps getting it checked out.” They both knew they couldn’t afford it, but hey, a kid can dream, right? The Plinth's do owe him a few favors.. And they'd never tell. They were too kind.. It was a risk, but so was his health.

He knew Tigris wasn't completely satisfied with that answer, but it was the best he’d offer her. Beggars can’t be choosers. “Fine.”

ii.

Coriolanus began to worry himself when he started to cough up blood. The first time, he played it off as sinus irritation of some sort, but when he found himself coughing up more blood than phlegm or spit, that's when he realized it was something.

The coughing fits got longer, too, triggering his gag reflex. God, he hated it. The feeling of acid forcing its way up his throat, the shakiness it brought to his limbs. He wasn't weak, per se, just already malnourished, and not being able to keep anything down certainly didn’t help.

He'd have to excuse himself from class at least once a day and bolt down the seemingly endless marble hallways of the Academy just to make it to the bathrooms in time, not even making it to the stalls a handful of times. Blood rinses off porcelain fairly quickly, thankfully.

His mind raced with possibilities. Could this be a stomach bug of some kind? A strange flu? Something entirely different? Maybe he should get it checked out, but he'd have to be subtle when he asked for aid.

The Plinth's. Sejanus.That made his stomach churn, and his throat close up. Breakfast threatened to resurface as he thought of the Plinth boy. They were neither friend nor foe, just two students going about their days who sat next to each other- That's what Coriolanus thought, at least. Sejanus was attached like a puppy. It was endearing in a way. Pathetic in another. He showed the boy basic human kindness and got worshiped in return. It kept his ego well-fed, which was nice, considering he was starved in all other areas.

An elbow nudged his own. Speak of the devil. “You alright there? You look like you've seen a ghost.” Sejanus asked him innocently. Shit.

Coriolanus nodded, swallowing thickly. Here comes more. “Just fine.. Please excuse me.”

iii.

Seeing a regular doctor would do him no good, he deduced as he stared at the blood-stained petal in the palm of his hand. When the hell did he manage to eat a flower? It wasn't a rose petal. He knew the shape and texture of roses like the back of his hand. Was Tigris slipping new ingredients into their meals, and he just hadn’t realized it yet?

He could worry about whatever the hell that was later, for now, he had another handful of lectures to attend to. Tigris had once again begged him to stay home- He had never missed a day in his life, the Academy would understand- but anything less than perfection was out of the question.

Maybe he was pushing it a bit. The constant purging caused him to lose a lot of his strength. Was his hearing always that fuzzy?

Between the hunger pangs and the newfound difficulty breathing, his focus was slipping, too. He needed some sort of medical intervention, but his pride got in the way. Medical intervention also meant getting a loan, and the only rich kid who seemed to like him was Sejanus.

That funny fluttering feeling again. He'd gotten better at suppressing the random gagging, finding it second nature. The scratching got worse, too, borderline painful. Like vines were clawing their way up his throat. Maybe there were some back there, given as there was a flower this morning.

Others noticed his deteriorating state, too. He could tell by the way they stared at him- Most judging, others scanning for information that could be constructed into gossip later. He wanted attention, but not this kind. The only one who actually said anything kind was Sejanus.

The last person he wanted to see. And funnily enough, the one person who made the ache a little better.

Sejanus lived the life Coriolanus deserved. The one that was owed to him by birth. He should hate him.

So why did his heart nearly stop when Sejanus grabbed his arm to stable him in the hallways after he had nearly collapsed from exhaustion?

Why do the little comments he makes have the biggest impact?

iv.

Two months. He's coughing up bunches of flowers now. Carnations, primarily. Some babies breath. A mocking white rose here and there. It's painful. His throat feels torn up beyond belief, lungs never able to gulp down enough air and stomach barely able to keep in whatever he manages to scarf down.

He can't keep going like this. He needs some sort of intervention.

A doctor's visit is too risky. He doesn't need to be known as some sort of freak, harboring a new disease. Maybe a florist? The idea makes him laugh. He has enough for the main pieces of an arrangement. Maybe he'll start spewing leather leaf and eucalyptus, then he'll be able to complete it. What a hilariously morbid thought. It wouldn't look half bad.

There's only one doctor who's crazy enough to possibly understand this, and it's a horrible option, but it's the best he's got- Dr. Gaul. How would he even approach this? “Hello, Dr. Gaul. May I bother you for a moment? I’m purging flowers.” Maybe he had just finally lost it.

If it persisted, he’d go, he told himself. Just another day or two. This was the last thing he needed, especially with exam season right around the corner. He'd lost so much valuable study time because of this goddamn disease. His grades were slipping, too. Not enough to relinquish his position as the top student, but just enough to cause his professors to pull him to the side, and Sejanus, too, the doting idiot that he was.

“I know you're saying you're fine, but I can see it in your face. You're not.” Sejanus said one day. “You look nearly as pale as your hair, and your uniform looks loose on you.”

“Your concern is flattering.” Coriolanus said, not turning away from his locker yet. Damn textbook refused to come out. Maybe it held too much. “But I can promise you, I'm just fine. Snow’s honor.”

“It's not the worst thing in the world to have someone care about you, and to accept it, y’know?” He asked with his district drawl. Why was his heart fluttering?

As much as he hated to admit it, Sejanus was right. His help, he could accept. When the other was nearby, it felt a little easier to breathe and think, his own personal painkiller. Coriolanus couldn't explain why, but the relief he felt overode his curiosity. Maybe he'd have to keep him around more often and sit closer to him in their shared classes. He wasn't awful company.

Coriolanus turned his head to look at the boy, and his world turned upside down. The black dots at the edge of his vision extended their phantom arms and pulled him down into the abyss. He was barely able to register his body hitting the ground.

When he was able to finally swim his way out of the inky abyss back into consciousness, he found himself in Dr. Gaul's office. Maybe this was the universe's way of telling him to get help for once.

He found himself lying on a surprisingly lush bed, in a dimly lit room, sheets soft as silk and pillow so plush he thought it was made of clouds. He nearly groaned with relief as he rolled over. At least his bones could rest. He couldn't day the same for his organs, which felt like they were being torn apart and rearranged with every movement he made.

"Mr. Snow", the Gamemaker' voice echoed from the end of the hallway. The sound of stilettos hitting the ground followed. How annoying. "You've found yourself in an interesting situation."

"Tell me about it." He wanted to say, but even moving his tongue the slightest made him feel nauseous.

"Hanahaki, we call it. The disease of love. Flowers grow in the lungs, squeezing the life out of you one vine at a time." Dr. Gaul said. "Makes you wish the butterflies in your stomach thing were real, hm? Sounds a lot more preferable."

"Love?" Coriolanus swallowed thickly. Love?

"Love. Unrequited.. Or at least, that's what's thought."

Love was the cause of it? Really? That was just pathetic, really. “I don't love many.”

“That's what you think.” Dr. Gaul switched on the lights, causing Coriolanus to squint. They were obnoxiously bright. “The sooner you admit it to yourself, the sooner we can get you feeling better. In the meantime, we have medication that should help the flowers shrivel up in your poor lungs. It won't dispose of them completely, but..” She handed him a pill bottle.

Coriolanus eyed the bottle carefully before unscrewing the lid and popping two into his mouth. He barely managed to swallow it before an onslaught of carnations nearly as red as his blood spewed from his lips, falling into the trash can conveniently in front of him. “.. I may have failed to mention that one of the side effects is instantaneous nausea. It's still in your system, don't worry.”

Coriolanus wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, careful not to stain his precious school uniform with any of the miserable fluids. "What will cause it to disappear completely?"

"Having the feelings requited, of course. Better fix yourself up quick, you have a guest." The doctor taunted before leaving the room, dimming the lights slightly on her way out. Thank God.

A few moments later, a distressed Sejanus came rushing into the room, looking almost as pale as his classmate. "Coryo?"

"Hey." He attempted a grin. It looked more like a grimace.

"Woo.. Thank God you're okay." He kneeled by Coriolanus' bedside. "You had me worried there. Your skin went all pale and.. You collapsed. Coughed up some blood. Did she say what it was? Are you okay?" It was pure word vomit. The fluttering feeling returned in his heart.

"Yeah.. I know what it is. She gave me some medication." Coriolanus shook the pill bottle, not willing to offer any more information.

"Well, what is it? If I can ask." Of course he would ask.

".. Some silly disease."

Sejanus didn't skip a beat. "Is it curable?"

".. She says so, but between you and me? I don't trust her word on anything regarding this."

"I don't blame you, Coryo." Sejanus pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped away a strand of drying blood/saliva that sat by Coriolanus' lips. The gesture made the flowers threaten to resurface. "What has she said?"

Coriolanus found himself leaning into the lingering touch against his will. ".. You won't believe me."

"Try me. I saw what I believe was a cross-hybrid between a lady bird and hedgehog." Sejanus snorted, bringing a smile to the others' lips.

".. Unrequited love."

vi.

After a grueling few hours of recovery, he was dismissed to glass, Dr. Gaul having granted him a full pardon like he was a criminal or something. Sejanus greeted him outside of the class, making sure to pay him special attention. The boy became his confidante for everything involving the disease. Somehow, it felt easier to talk to Sejanus about it. About everything, actually. He should've given the boy a chance earlier. He had a nice smile. And a nice laugh.

The vines in his lungs constricted. And that's when it hit him.

#fanfiction #the hunger games #thg #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas #coriolanus snow #sejanus plinth #snowjanus #coriolanus x sejanus #mlm #hanahaki #pre canon

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bradshawsbitch · 2 years

Text

international | bradley bradshaw x f!reader

disclaimer: y'hello, this is basically me writing down my maladaptive daydream so like yeah. this is somewhere between reader and oc cause I added some shit to the character. this is for my bilingual queens! 'reader' ain't from america, but u h h h yeah! hope you like it still!

word count: 3700.

warnings: cursing - a lot of cursing, mentions of eating meat, mentions of alcoholic beverages, a bit of self doubt if you squint.

plot: you're an international student, currently located in san diego. on a little sight-seeing tour you bump in to mr. hawaii shirt!

part 2

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You almost couldn’t believe your sheer dumb luck. Was it years of hard work that finally paid off? Maybe. Was it divine intervention? Perhaps it was. But you could hardly believe that you had managed to go through the process of applying for an exchange from your University to the one you were currently sat in. Sunny San Diego had always felt like a perfectly good place to explore, and you had painstakingly went through many Universities’, reading their websites and the description of their international programmes. You’d looked at other countries as well, but you had secretly always been quite fascinated with the US - and when you received the e-mail that a university in San Diego could accomodate you, you’d almost screamed out loud back in your home country.

It had been a few weeks now. The semester had started, the weather was still warm as ever, and you had finally decided that today you would go sight-seeing. Spending the early morning at La Jolla Cove, you looked at the sea lions - marvelling at how cute (albeit smelly) they were, and enjoying taking the scenic route in the beat up, champagne colored, Honda you’d rented. It was automatic - something you weren’t really accustomed to (back at home you always drove a manual). Today was a day off for you, so you felt like you could really do all of the touristy things you hadn’t had the time for since you arrived before the semester started. Sure, you’d spent the first week seeing all the things you felt were important. You’d been to Cheesecake Factory (happily surprised with the hibachi steak you had), you’d been to a baseball game (it was fun! You’d gotten a little pin that said it was your first game), and you’d tried to understand american football - courtesy of a very drunk guy on campus who seemed appalled that you, an international student, did not already know the inns and outs of the game. The memory made you snort out a short laugh.

By the time lunch rolled around you’d gotten to Old Town, where you drank in the charm of the buildings, looking at trinkets in the shops, and stopping to gaze at the Whaley House. You’d never really been too into true crime, but even you knew about the Whaley House - and despite the warm weather, a chill ran down your spine. Shaking it off, you decided it was definitely time for some lunch. Milling about Old Town, you suddenly spotted a quaint little place that seemed to serve variations of tacos and burritos - which turned out to be the best damn burrito you ever ate in your entire life.

Continuing the day of sight-seeing, your little Honda puttered further down, weaving in and out of scenic routes and roads. You’d turned off your google maps when you left Old Town, wanting to have some spontaneity in your adventures. After quite some time driving (it was now afternoon, closer to evening), you found a parking spot to claim, where you figured you could continue on foot. Looking around, you’d managed to find a beach, where a small bar sat - music playing softly from within. Heading for the beach, you peeked inside. It seemed as if the woman inside was setting up for the afternoon and night, and it seemed rather empty. Perhaps you’d have a quick swim and have your dinner there.

You went for a quick swim, enjoying the way the waves cooled your body down and washed away the sweat and grime from having driven and walked around all day. Having a quick dry-off, you swiftly put your clothes on again (only stumbling once when putting on your pants, that’s a win!), and headed for the bar you’d spotted earlier. By now the sky had turned a beautiful shade of red, lilac and blue, as the sun set slowly. Making your way inside the bar, you managed to get the attention of the pretty woman in the bar - standing next to a man with dark hair that she had been talking to.

“Hi, do you serve food here as well?” you asked with a smile, nodding in acknowledgement to the man sat by the bar. As the woman confirmed your suspicions, you ordered something small and made your way over to the other side of the bar - you didn’t want to seem like you were prying. As your eyes scanned the shelves, seeing some familiar bottles and some unfamiliar bottles of liquor - you suddenly felt a strange need for a drink. You’d driven here though, so a coke would have to do.

As you waited for your food to arrive, more people were entering the (what you thought was a) quiet bar. Many of them were dressed in khaki. Now, you didn’t exactly have an impeccable sense of fashion - but khaki always made you think of Bella Swan. Her khaki skirt. Sexy, according to S. Meyer.

Your gaze roamed around to find a blond man throwing darts, his friend trying to mess him up by putting a hand in front of his eyes - to no avail though - it looked like it was a bullseye from where you sat. Looking around further, you spotted a group of people gathered around a pool table - and you almost wished you’d brought a friend, just so that you could play. Of course you could always ask to join, but you felt like you were too shy for that. You never wanted to impose.

Seeing a beautiful woman in a sleek bun walking in, walking with purpose towards the pool tables had you biting your lip. Why were all these khaki clad people so handsome? Was it a club? Your brows furrowed slightly at your own thoughts. Surely not.

As your head swivelled to thank the bartender for the food she’d just delivered to you, you noticed the door swinging open, and a tall form walking in. And boy, howdy, were you glad you’d decided to turn your attention to the door.

Never in your life would you have imagined salivating over a man with a hawaiian shirt over the top of a white wife-beater, let alone a man with a fucking moustache. But damn, this dude had obviously won the gene-lottery. A soft uttering of a curse word slipped past your lips in your native language, and the bartender, who had apparently hung around to witness your reaction, couldn’t help but laugh at the expression on your face.

But like honestly, you felt you were blame-less in this. The man stood tall, with broad shoulders and (when he’d removed his sunglasses) a face that would make a Vogue model envious. In other words, a man that would never in a million years go for you. You sighed, shaking your head slightly, picking up your jaw from the floor, you turned to order a drink from the bartender, only to find that she had moved on down the bar. You could only smile at your own behaviour. You weren’t a teenager anymore! Should a man really make you react like that? A man with a hawaiian shirt at that.

“That seems awfully dry without a drink,”

Perhaps you were having an aneurysm. A short-circuit. A power outage? The voice that spoke was soft, but the honeyed tone of his voice alone made you want to shiver. Turning your head yet again, your lips slightly parted in surprise, you were met by the face of Hawaiian shirt God, standing right there next to you. Blinking a couple of times, you took a quick look-around, just to make sure a Victoria's Secret model wasn’t standing right next to you with something dry that he could comment on.

“Uh, are you– are you talking to me?” it might seem like he was, but one could never be too sure. Perhaps he was talking on the phone. Without headphones. You never know! Hawaiian shirt God chuckled and nodded towards your food and your apparent lack of drink.

“Oh, I drove here!” you smiled “I was going to order a coke but the bartender was too fast for me,” you said in a jovial tone, making sure to not make it seem as if you blamed her. Hawaiian shirt God furrowed his brows, leaning his frame on the bartop, twisting his torso so it was facing you (was it getting hot in here?), with a bewildered look on his face.

“You know you can have a drink and still drive home right?” you could kick yourself. You were used to the slightly stricter laws from back home.

“Oh,” you uttered softly “I’m not from around here. I’m not used to being allowed to drive if alcohol has even touched my tongue,” you joked, shrugging your shoulders.

“Could I perhaps buy you something to drink? Coke is allowed,” he smirked and your breath hitched in your throat as you took in his words. He wanted to buy you a— you blinked and took a steadying breath.

“I– yeah, sure. What’re you having?” you asked, your mind suddenly becoming blank. What did you even like to drink? It was as if you had never had anything to drink ever in your entire life before this. How embarrassing. He answered with the name of a beer you’d never heard of and you wrinkled your nose slightly. The laugh that rolled from his lips was divine. If only you were a stand-up comedian and could make him laugh all the live long day.

“Not a fan of beer, huh?” he asked, smiling down at your sitting form. You smiled sheepishly, shaking your head as you took your bottom lip in between your teeth to think.

“Perhaps a glass of wine?” you looked up at him questioningly, and he smiled in response

“Red or white?”

“White, please,” you smiled. He nodded and managed to make eye-contact with the bartender, who swiftly helped him with the drinks.

“Thank you so much–” you raised an eyebrow, your tone insinuating you wanted a name for Hawaiian shirt God.

“Rooster,”

Hold on. What? Like the animal?

“R-Rooster?” you were trying your damn best not to laugh. Laughing would feel like an insult to this poor kids’ parents. You knew some Americans liked to name their children eccentric things, but you figured that was mostly Hollywood.

His booming laughter at the way you hesitantly stuttered his name had your cheeks warm with embarrassment, and you averted your gaze down to your finished plate of food.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart, my name’s Bradley. I’ve gotten so used to being called Rooster so– I figured not too many civilians would find their way into the Hard Deck,” he smiled, and it seemed as if he was trying his hardest not to seem like he was mansplaining his name to you. Bradley. Alright, maybe his parents did love him after all.

“Oh, well thank you then, Bradley,” you smiled uncertainly “and uh- well I guess I am a civilian, I’ve been sight-seeing all day so you might even smack me in the face with ‘tourist’ as well if you want,” you joked. Again, that chuckle was endearing as all hell. You had no idea what he meant by civilian, but you didn’t want to seem any more dumb by asking what he meant by that.

He searched your face for a little while, letting silence fall between the two of you for a short moment - a moment where you yet again could hear the background noise, the drunk singing, the cheering for the people who played pool (you guessed this is why people were cheering, but you were also quite certain you’d heard a bell being rung as well). And in the midst of the noise, you could vaguely make out words of conversations that happened around you - catching words such as ‘naval’, ‘officer’ and ‘lieutenant’.

“Ohh,” you uttered softly, understanding, quickly checking out a person wearing khaki who passed by you. Of course. It was a uniform! You figured the woman who wore her hair in a tight bun was just a woman who wanted to flaunt her immaculate cheekbones, but now it seemed more likely that they were probably military. How did this always manage to happen to you?

“Are you in the army?” you blurted out, and he at first looked amused, but then borderline offended. Shit. Did you do the ol’ foot-in-mouth now? You knew absolutely nothing about the US military, you didn’t even know shit about your military back home.

“I’m a naval aviator,” he responded with a small smile, his body language telling you he wasn’t all too keen to brag. Even though it was undoubtedly impressive.

“I’m sorry– I didn’t mean to offend you or anything. I know I joked about being a tourist earlier but I sort of am - I mean, I’m an international student–” you were struggling to find words that didn’t make you sound unbelievably stupid, but sometimes when you had to talk fast, it was as if all the english you’d ever learnt fell out of your vocabulary, and you wanted nothing more than to blurt out some familiar words from your native language.

“Are you old enough to be in here?” he asked as you mentioned you were a student. Now it was your turn to be offended. You were nearing your thirties thank you very much.

“I’m working towards a master of science, so I’m definitely old enough to be in here, thanks” you explained, narrowing your eyes slightly at him, a smirk playing on your lips. He smiled at you again before sipping his beer.

“I never caught your name, sweetheart,” he continued.

“You never asked,” you replied, only slightly letting your tone hint at flirting as you sipped your wine, keeping eye contact with him over the rim of your wine glass.

“I’m asking now,” God, the way his voice had lowered and became slightly husky should be illegal. You could feel your body react unceremoniously to the sound of his voice, and you had to lick your lower lip as you pondered how to answer. Should you say your name with like, an American accent? Should you say it as you would usually at home?

You settled on the latter. You didn’t have the confidence to pronounce it like an American would.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that?” you repeated it, slowly, and jokingly said that he was allowed to call you your nickname if he was in a hurry. He laughed at that. You enjoyed making him laugh. His eyes looked so pretty when they lit up in the dim bar-light.

You smiled up at him, and you were just about to initiate another topic of conversation, when his name was called from across the bar.

“Rooster, is this how I find out you’re state-side?” It was the beautiful woman with a tight bun. Damn.

“I’m sorry, would you excuse me for a second?” he smiled at you, and seemed glad to have seen his friend. You nodded quickly “Absolutely!”

And he was gone. Fuck. That was the most exhilarating experience you’d had in a while and you’d let him slip away! It wasn’t as if he was going to drag you out back and take you against the wall (but damn if he wanted to you wouldn’t say no), but still - you had liked how confidently he’d approached you and how sweet he had been about buying you something to drink. You stared at said drink now, swirling the wine slowly in the glass that was now half full - you took a sip as your eyes wandered across the room. The bar had a warm, familiar feeling - even though this was your first time being there. You wouldn’t mind spending more time here. Perhaps they were looking for help - you had bartended before.

Shaking your head, you took another sip of your wine. Rooster had said you could drive home after a drink, but you felt like perhaps it would be wise to wait a little while after finishing your drink before you hit the roads. But now you didn’t have the company of Bradley to keep you occupied, and you heaved a small sigh as you brought out your phone to scroll through social media, checking your instagram story from earlier during the day.

Suddenly, the familiar sound of ‘Slow Ride’ was cut short, and you heard the soft notes of a piano being played. Looking up, you quickly found that the source of the sounds was Bradley, his shade having slid down to rest on his nose. Jesus, was he aware what the hell he was doing? Probably. He smiled as he spotted you, and you couldn’t help but smiled back before he turned his attention to the people standing around him as he started to sing.

This motherfucker needed to slow down. If he wasn’t careful he’d catch a wife. With a voice like that, his endearing approach and fucking insane looks he was surely very popular. If he even mentioned he liked literature or cuddling, you’d be done for.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” you muttered, downing the rest of your wine in one go, letting the glass hit the bartop with a bit more force than you’d first intended. A familiar laughter permeated the air, and the bartender woman was stood in front of you again - ready to collect your glass. No doubt she needed it clean for the next round of costumers.

“He’s something, isn’t he?” she smiled at you, and you could only nod.

“Is he always like this?” you inquired and she laughed again.

“Well, I haven’t seen him in quite a while but yeah, I think so,” she smiled at you “But I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him buy anyone a drink quite this quick before,” she winked at you, making your cheeks warm up again.

“Hey, would you ever need help around here?” you found the courage to ask “I’ve bartended before, and I make a mean whiskey sour,” you smiled. She pondered your offer for a while before answering,

“Let me think on it. Why don’t you come in tomorrow and we can talk about it?” you nodded and thanked her.

The smile on the bartenders lips widened (Penny, you found out her name was,) as her gaze lifted from you, to something above and behind you. Furrowing your brows, you twisted around to see Bradley stood behind you again.

“Hey, sweetheart. Sorry about that,” he smiled at you. Damn. He found you again?

“Don’t… worry about it,” it almost sounded like a question.

“You up for a game of pool?” he questioned, before ordering another beer “More wine?” he asked you, leaning slightly over you, letting his arm brush against yours.

“I probably shouldn’t…” you trailed off, biting your lip in contemplation.

“Come on… stay a while,” he smiled softly at you, his brown eyes twinkling all prettily again.

“Alright then, but I can buy my own drink,” you insisted, but he just shook his head.

Spending time with Bradley felt as easy as breathing, and as the two of you played together, you made easy conversation. Turned out he was quite fond of literature (fuck), and that he was quite fascinated by your field of study (fuckin’ hell). As you missed your third shot, a colorful curse word slipped past your lips and Bradley laughed loudly.

“I can’t believe I missed that!” you complained, throwing your head back, agitated. You were not necessarily a sore loser, but you felt like you were pretty alright at the game and could do better.

“You didn’t have the angle quite down,” Bradley said with a shrug, and you narrowed your eyes playfully.

“Oh, show me how it’s done then,” you mocked him, offering him the table.

“Yeah, I think I will,” he smirked, grabbing a hold of your arm, and placing himself behind you - his chest pressed against your back. For the umpteenth time that night, your breath was hitched somewhere in between your lungs and your mouth. You could feel rather than hear Bradley chuckle against you, his lips now close to your ear as he whispered “More like this,” before stepping slightly to your side, one hand on your hip to lean you over the pool table. Fuck. Fucking fuck. With Bradley’s help, unfortunately you made the shot perfectly. Straightening up, you turned slowly, facing Bradley’s chest before looking up at him.

“That was good, sweetheart,” he praised. Jesus. Your thighs were clenching against your will and you had to swallow before an airy laugh slipped past your lips. You were so close. One of his hands still rested on your hips, the other now rising slowly to brush a strand of hair out of your face - helping it rest behind your ear. The tips of his fingers ghosting against your neck. Holy crap. You hoped he’d kiss you. His eyes searched yours, a small smile playing on his lips, and it felt as if he was inching closer to you.

Suddenly the cleaning lights unceremoniously lit up the bar. Damn. You hadn’t even noticed the last call. You swore you heard Bradley utter a soft “fuck” but you might’ve imagined it.

There was a general stir, as people hurried to finish their drinks and make their way out of the bar.

“I’ll see you tomorrow!” Penny called to you, and you smiled and nodded towards her before turning back to Rooster, who had taken a step away from you. Damn.

“You’re coming here tomorrow?” he asked and you nodded, smiling at him like he hung the moon.

“Hopefully I’ll see you tomorrow then?” he inquired as the two of you made your way out of the bar and out in to the chilly night.

“But uh… just in case I don’t… could I maybe have your phone number?” he continued hurriedly. You blinked slowly, before a large grin found its’ way onto your lips.

“Yeah!” you exclaimed breathlessly, holding your hand out for his phone. He smiled as you put in your contact, and the two of you just smiled awkwardly for a moment before parting ways.

God, what a great adventure you’d had - you thought as you giggled and danced your way back to your Honda, giddy after having given Rooster your number. You were looking forward to spending more time at the Hard Deck if it meant meeting Bradley more.

#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw fanfic #rooster fanfic #rooster fluff #rooster imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw #alex writes

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