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painsandconfusion · 7 months

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Sir

Little Fox - Part Fourteen

(tw: impalement, hand gore, broken bones, fingore, burns, punishment, escape attempt, murder, blood, carnage, corpse, rotting corpse, death, intimate whumper, needles, injection, dead body, gore)

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Kara had long fallen numb, just staring at the spatters of crimson and watching the blood dry. Puckering around the edges and flaking away in others.

It was probably hours, but to the mind that swam in darkness and agonizing blur, it seemed like an eternity.

Or. Maybe just a few moments.

Alec returned, whistling a nursery rhyme as he trotted down the stairs, filling the small basement with clanging echoes of his heels hitting the sharpcut steel, accented by the piercing whistle.

Kara’s eyes mashed shut, chin tucking into her shoulder.

Alec’s laugh warmed the sharp sounds away as he stepped up to her, kneeling on the blood-smeared cement - evidently not caring if the tacky red stained at the knees of his jeans.

“Aww..little fox, you look so tired.”

There was barely any malice behind her voice. She couldn’t muster much at all. Just a semi-robotic, dull, “ffuck you.”

Alec raised a brow, leaning back. “You want me to leave again, then huh?”

Kara’s eyes pinched desperate, flicking up to him.

Alec smirked down at that. “No?”

She swallowed thickly, tongue pressing to the back of her throat and sticking in it’s dryness. “..nno.”

Alec’s smirk warmed just a touch as he reached out, delicately combing hair from her face with gentle fingers. Her skin shivered and pinched under his touch anyway. “You ready to get down from there now?”

Kara’s eyes closed again. She was tired. So tired. Tired and sick and trembling with the static, numbed pain. “..y es”

Alec hummed, knuckles hooking under her chin to pry it up - face curling toward him. “Ask nicely.”

Kara’s stomach rolled.

The smallest piece of her, long buried in darkness, wished she would say no. Spit in his face. Lash out and kick him.

But her legs were all but numb. There was no spit in her mouth to hurl his direction. She had no more quips to give. No tools to use against him. Not even for something as simple as this.

“..pl-ease” crackled from her dry throat.

Alec hummed a smile, pinching her cheek lightly and shaking it like she was a goddamn toddler. “I think a ‘sir’ would make that ask stick a little better, don’t you~?”

Kara grimaced, face pinching around his grip. Trying to ignore the bruise even if every flicker of pain made her head spin.

Fine.

She wanted to lay down. She wanted to be done. She didn’t want to be here anymore.

She couldn’t sit here, kneeling and nailed to a pole any more.

She wanted to be done.

So the words slid out of her, clattering down from her lips, dispassionate and empty. “..please sir.”

A grin pulled across Alec’s face now. He let go of her cheek, thumb smoothing out the forming bruise. “Good girl. And here I thought you were gonna be difficult.”

Regret immediately blooms in her gut as Alec stands, wandering toward the shelves to grab something - supposedly to get her down. Even Alec had more faith in her.

Shame starts sprouting up alongside the regret.

Metal pulls rippling clangs from the shelf as Alec drags a hammer from its place. “This is going to suck. You know that, right?”

As if her stomach wasn’t already in knots.

She didn’t know why she was so stupid as to assume that when she was ‘done’ she was done. But no.

No, there was a fucking nine inch nail ripped through her hands - of course getting down was going to hurt.

Kara’s eyes squeezed shut again. If she weren’t completely out of tears, they’d be rolling down her cheeks again. “..y-yeah-”

“Good.” Alec kneeled down in front of her again, reaching up to wipe a little blood away from the head of the nail. “I’m going to hurt you. Very badly. Then you’ll go back to your room and I’ll get you some food and water and you’ll sleep.”

She kept her eyes closed, not wanting to see his face as it pressed closer to her. Feeling his warmth parallel her own as he reached up to where her tingling hands fell limp on the nail. Her arms once again stretched up a little - shaky in their attempt to take weight off the wound. “..kk-kay-”

Her breath was coming shallow again, churning her stomach in short, choppy punches. Quick and breathy as she tensed - ready for the hurt.

It was blinding.

She’d thought her hands were finally falling numb, but as the cool steel pressed against her palm they started tingling to life just in time to feel every little ripple and snap of the bones in her palm.

A ragged, raspy wail clawed up her throat as she felt bones break and flesh rip. It rang through her skull and left her empty, crashing to the concrete once the nail was gone.

Glitching, shaking arms tried to pull closer to cradle her mutilated hands to her chest, but they wouldn’t quite listen.

Alec sighed, sitting down cross-legged. He took one of her arms, ignoring the scream that followed. His hand started working up it. Gripping and massaging at the muscle. Making sure the shoulder and elbow were properly in place. “You know, you’re not the only one who’s had a bad day.” Slightly teasing, but there’s a bitterness behind it.

Kara’s eyes finally opened, blurred by hot, salty tears - evidently she’d had some left after all. She just..stared at him. Half pleading, half judging. Her fingers twitched, pulling squeaks and whimpers out of her as he worked blood back up her arms, one at a time.

Blessedly, he did manage to stay away from her hands, working only at the fiery muscles until her arms were able to move properly.

“Alright, that should do ya.” He let her arms fall back to her, letting her clutch them against her chest, breaths short and punching down her throat as she tried to get a grip on the pain.

It wasn’t going well.

Alec nodded toward her door. “Go on, get back to your room.”

Kara’s eyes strained up, across fifteen feet or so of concrete toward the open door.

She looked back at him, desperation and exhaustion in her eyes. How was she supposed to get there? Her hands were ruined and her feet burned to oblivion and back.

Alec just rolled his. “I don’t care if it hurts, just get there. You can crawl.”

She just..stared.

Alec’s eyes darkened a little. “Or I’ll nail you to the beam again and you can stay out here?”

A little panic surged through her, and she pushed herself up to sitting. Almost.

Pausing for a breath.

“Go.”

Kara’s stomach churned - it didn’t seem to be stopping that new favorite activity. She muttered out a ‘ffine-’ and fell onto her elbows and knees, forcing half numb legs to shove her forward through the agony.

The thick, pointed steel of the hammer curled around her jaw, pulling her back to face Alec. “What I’m looking for here is a ‘yes sir’.”

She didn’t have it in her to fight anymore.

Fuck, she just wanted to lie down why couldn’t she just lie down??

But she didn't want to stay here - didn't want to spend another second next to the long-cold corpse.

The words dropped from her mouth without much care. “Yesssir.”

Alec hummed in approval, letting the hammer fall away from her face.

Kara didn’t know how she shoved through - probably because individual steps didn’t hurt that much more than holding still. That, and the blind fear of Alec bringing the hammer down on her skull if she took too long. Either way, she dragged herself - somehow - back into her room, collapsing on the floor by her bed.

Alec didn’t follow.

She had a few blessed minutes of solitude. The cool concrete pressed against the edges of her burns, pulling soft whines from her throat, but soothing aching muscles anyway. She just let herself lie there, eyes closed against the pain.

But pain returned anyway. It pushed open the door, holding a small glass and a box. Wearing a soft smile.

“Awwww,” it cooed. “You’re so cute all curled up like that.” He shifted to sit on the bed, arms scooping up under Kara to pull her up to him.

She blanched at the pain, head swimming and whimpers falling from her lips. He didn’t care. She ended up curled up in his lap anyway.

“Shh..no more hurt, I’m just getting you some basics.” He reached for the glass, pressing it to her lips.

Kara hesitated, breath stinging against her ribs. “Whh..at is-”

“Mostly water. Some vitamins. It’s warm but won’t burn you. It’ll help.”

Her nose wrinkled up, but she let the rim of the glass slip between her lips, hesitant at first, then drinking greedily as he tipped it up.

Little by little, he let her finish off the glass, then sat with her, hand carding softly through her hair.

She didn’t care much at the prick of the needle. That much was familiar. What she didn’t know was why. Why he cared to give her her daily doses. Why he cared to get her prescriptions right. She didn’t bother wondering how he knew what she took or how often. She was done questioning his sleuthing skills.

She just..curled into him, exhausted, twitching, and oddly grateful for the touch. The estrogen. The water. The bed.

She knew vaguely that she should be pulling away.

Should be upset.

Should be rejecting this.

But instead, she just found her eyes closing, breaths rough but shallow. Small. Curled into him and relishing the fingers in her hair.

She let go, letting him whisper soft praises and slipping away into a gray fog.

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(tags: @prisonerwhump @mabledonut @paleassprince @distinctlywhumpthing @there-will-always-be-blood @wormwriting @thecitythatdoesntsleep @whumpworld @bandages-andobsessions @deltaxxk @warm-my-whumpee-heart @whumpy-catfish @whumpasaurus101 @looks-better-in-blood)

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educationalporpoises · 4 months

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Before the Fall of Rome

Merry Christmas @blood-mocha-latte from your Secret Santa! (me) Hope you enjoy this fic, and your moodboards totally gave me the bug so I made one to go with this fic too :)) Rie, I had a blast writing this fic for you <33 Also here on AO3 Before the Fall of Rome, Luztoye, 2.2k, M June, 1949. There's a reunion on the fifth anniversary of D-Day. George and Joe meet again for the first time since Bastogne.

June, 1949

George was outside smoking, leaning up against a plaster column in the shade. He was on his second cigarette when a busted cream-colored Willys pulled up in front of the hotel and Babe Heffron got out of the front seat, opening the door for a lady in the passenger seat. The lady in turn pulled open the back door and held out an inconspicuous arm for Bill Guarnere to pull himself up to standing. On the other side, Babe did the same with Joe Toye. George recognized him, but the set of his shoulders, the way he carried himself, had changed from the man George had jumped with.

Joe had a suitcase in one hand, a cane in the other, and walked purposefully towards the entrance to the hotel. George flicked the butt of his cigarette into the gravel drive and stepped into line with him, passing by the doorman holding the big door to the hotel.

“Hey Joe.”

Joe grunted.

“Ballroom’s down to the right. We’re all staying on the second floor mostly, and there’s an elevator back here,” George said, trotting alongside Joe. At the elevator Joe set down his suitcase and waited for Babe and the Guarneres to catch up after checking into the hotel, shifting his weight to one side and smoothing out a crease in his pant leg where it caught above the knee.

George remembered suddenly that this was the first time he’d seen Joe since Belgium, since the snow and the blood and as his throat tightened he smiled, wide, and said “I’d probably get you lost trying to find the room.”

He left Joe standing in the hallway with his shoulders slumped and his mouth a thin line and went to help set up the ballroom. It was still mostly empty, only the guys that organized the reunion had arrived. George was only there because he’d caught a ride with Winters, who was chronically early and terminally helpful.

Winters was different in civilian clothing, his hair just beyond regulation length, his shoulders and his smile looser. George had stopped by his house in Nixon, New Jersey, a hulking, empty brownstone with a shiny Cadillac parked in the garage. Nixon (the man) had driven in from the city and cooked them dinner both nights, pouring George and himself liberal glasses of vintage wines and retelling the same stories of his childhood they’d all heard through Toccoa and the war. He’d fallen asleep in the back of the Cadillac as Winters drove them to Pennsylvania and told George about the different farms they passed by.

“We’ve heard enough about cows, Dick,” Nix said blearily from the backseat, “Luz, what are you doing next?”

“I liked hearing about the cows, sir,” George deflected. He’d told them about the last four years, taking care of his little siblings and the seasonal jobs around town he’d been picking up. But Nix had his number and knew George had no idea for his future. “I was thinking once Molly is in school I’d look into one of those job programs they have for soldiers. Learn a trade.”

“Trade work is good, Luz. You know, I put myself through college wiring telephone poles. I must have wired half of Lancaster County by the end of it,” Winters said. He glanced in the rearview mirror at Nixon, and George watched his face twist briefly before he looked back at the road.

In the ballroom Winters was directing Popeye and Tab in putting up a banner that read “506th PIR E Company” in a big red script, with “Currahee” underneath. Nixon was standing by a big table of food, some of it catered by the hotel, some of it brought by the wives and fiances of the men that had arrived. Nixon had made lemon icebox cookies the day before they left.

“Luz!” Someone behind him called out as George tried to filch a cookie from under Nixon’s nose. He turned around, wiping powdered sugar on his pants, and saw Lipton, smiling around his scar.

“And, well, we’re not telling people yet but Angie is expecting,” Lip said in an undertone, after he’d filled George in on the weeks since their last letter.

“Well tell her Uncle George is always available for babysitting. Lord knows your rugrats will be easier than the little Luzes.”

“Everyone’s easier to manage than Luz kids. That’s why they keep you around at home,” Lip joked, “You keep them out of trouble and they keep you busy enough you can’t get into trouble either.”

Lip made him promise to visit the boarding house before Angie gave birth, “Or we won’t have time to see you until the baby is in school,” and they made tenuous plans for the fall, before Lip went to talk to the other officers.

George chatted with Popeye and Moore when he arrived, and pulled Johnny Martin into a hug when he arrived. The light grew into sunset, and eventually Nixon officially opened the bar, everyone yelling over each other which drinks they wanted.

George had an Old Fashioned, in honor of the man himself, and another for confidence. By the time he was teetering between tipsy and drunk the sun had turned mellow and the room was hazy and dim. Men were dancing with their wives while others sat around talking. Winters made a brief statement standing on a chair, a glass of punch (miraculously no one spiked it) in his hand.

“I was proud to lead you into battle five years ago and I am proud of all that you have accomplished in civilian life, and the futures you have earned. Currahee!” he said, and they all cheered, and afterwards all the men had toasted each other until George was pushed up on the chair and wished them all luck in their lives after the war in Sobel’s marching cadence bellow. He’d done Sink and Dike and a big German caricature, and then mimicked a couple of movie stars, yelling orders or repeating old jokes from the war, before he was let down from the chair and handed another drink.

He watched Babe Heffron talking to Martin and his wife, a shadow hulking behind him. George went up to the shadow and tapped him on the shoulder.

“Luz, can’t you see I’m in the middle of a conversation,” Joe grumbled, following George to an empty table.

“You hadn’t said anything in five minutes.” “You were paying attention?” Joe asked, his eyebrow quirked.

“I just couldn’t see Martin with you in the way, wanted to get another look at his behind,” he said, and Joe smiled, a little. He tilted his head down when he did, as though it was a secret.

He wasn’t sure how to approach the years of silence between them, but Joe cut through the awkwardness and asked, “So how many little siblings did you come home to?” and George got to tell him about Molly, who was three now, and his nieces and nephew, and being there to see baby Robbie walk for the first time.

“You could’ve seen me walk for the first time too,” Joe said, the first time either of them made reference to the war, “Babe was there. He was trying not to laugh the whole time. Don’t know how he and Bill are friends, they never stop fighting.”

“Philly’s still the same, then?”

“Guess so. When I left the hospital I tried to go back to the mines, but I couldn’t stand long enough. They tried to give me a paperwork job but I don’t have a head for numbers,” Joe said, his shoulders up by his ears again. It was unspoken in the company that not all the boys could read as well as each other– Bull Randleman was the smartest man in the company, but he would dictate letters home to Martin. Joe had left school at twelve. George’s ma had made all of them finish high school, and he was glad for that now.

“I’m um, I’m back in the city now. Taking some classes at the college. Bill’s wife helped me set it up, it’s free for GIs.”

“That’s good, Joe, real good,” George tried to hide his surprise, “What are you learning about?”

Joe spoke further into his beer, “History. When I got back I realized… We were part of something big. They’ll teach about us in school one day. I want it to be right.”

George imagined Joe sitting in a lecture hall, arguing with the professor.

“History is long. What’s the best part of it so far?”

“We read a book about Roman generals. They led these campaigns across the continent– they wouldn’t’ve needed paratroopers. The soldiers just marched,” Joe looked up, “This one fella, well, I guess he was an opposing general, he marched his elephants over the Alps.”

Joe’s laughter was low but bright, and George indulged another sip of his Old Fashioned, lest he think something untoward about his old friend.

“Sergeant Toye, you will brush that elephant until he shines. Do you expect to go to war with dusty tusks?” George affected in Sobel’s voice, attracting the other men towards their table.

Before Bill Guarnere and his wife (Frances, George reminded himself) went to bed he came over to shake hands with Joe and say goodnight. Joe took a minute for quiet words between them, while Frances politely invited George to visit them in Philly next time he was in the area. He got a sense that if she learned he’d been in Pennsylvania without gracing the Guarnere household he’d have a riot on his hands, and promised to call on them when he could.

“G’night Toye, Luz,” Bill said, and took his wife’s arm as they went back towards the rooms. George looked away, and caught Nixon and Winters in the corner of his eye, standing close together. Nixon had his arm wrapped around Winters’ shoulders, and for a moment his hand cupped the back of his neck, thumb brushing the divot between his skull and spine. So it was like that, George thought, and wondered why an invite into their house had been so readily given. Nixon was not a cautious man, but he guarded the things he regarded as his– dogs, peaches, wine cellars.

Joe caught him watching the officers, and he turned back to their conversation.

“I hadn’t planned to come,” Joe said, “I haven’t talked to any of them since Bill and I were in the hospital together. But Babe showed up with Bill and Fran and they would’ve left me alone, but… My brothers weren’t in the war.” George nodded, Joe had told them about the various illness or necessary labor jobs that had protected the other Toyes.

“I was lonely, I think. So when Babe showed up I went with him,” He said, and sat back, done with his piece.

George said, before his brain could catch up with him, “Would you come with me now, if I asked?”

Joe nodded, and pushed himself up from the chair.

The prosthetic was easier to get off than he expected. Two buckles across his thigh, a snap connecting the harness to the wood, and Joe Toye was naked as the day he was born spread out across the floral pattern of George’s hotel bed.

George liked to tease, liked to talk and bite and argue, and he hoped they would have time for that, in the bright, impenetrable future they now had, in this time after the war. But Joe was a simple man to please, and the noises he made when George put his mouth on his cock were almost as good as his growl when George teased him to a point of rage. And George liked it pretty fucking well when he let himself draw the blowjob out a little long, until Joe pushed down on the back of his head and said, “Suck.”

Without speaking Joe curled himself behind George to sleep, his arm resting across George’s stomach.

“Goodnight, Joe,” George said. Joe grunted.

The next morning, after breakfast, George got back in Winter’s Cadillac, and went back East for the summer, waiting until Molly went to school and cleaning fish guts off his denim coveralls. He would receive letters in Joe’s stout, blocky handwriting, words scribbled out until everything was spelled correctly. In the fall he left again, and Joe Toye would pick him up at the train station. He would apologize for not having a car, and with his balance on the prosthetic he couldn’t take a bag from George either, but they walked together to the narrow apartment they would share until Joe got his teacher’s license.

George would work for one of Joe’s cousins (he would come to learn there were always more cousins) in the back of an autobody shop, mopping floors and sweeping up the screws and bolts scattered around. Joe taught history, and at night he would read to George from the books he consumed rapidly, and George would tell him they were Achilles and Patroclus, even with Joe’s Achilles Heel and all.

After the war, they continued.

#hbowarsanta23 #band of brothers #luztoye #porpoisewrites

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idolatrybarbie · 7 months

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lust for a vampire

for my fifty follower celebration! @heareball asked: max phillips and prompt no. nine— "you look so pretty like this." title from the song. i am so sorry this ended up being like, gross. and long. thanks to @wannab-urs for the reassurance and beta. if you recognize the horror movies referenced in this fic i love you.

rating & word count: 4k words | explicit

warnings: very briefly mentioned drug use, sexually explicit content, more plot than porn, dubious consent question mark, supernatural stalking, blood and its consumption, pussy slapping (like once), orgasm denial, spit play ???, background sex work/stripping, physical altercation (not with max), vaginal fingering, pet names (sweet thing, honey, sweetheart), i changed how vampires work from bsb because my writing, my rules.

It’s late now. Another thirty minutes and you get to flick the switch to the overhead lights—on and off, on and off again. Closing time. You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here. Then there’s bar cleanup, a little sweeping, some heavy mopping. Assuring that no one’s upchucked on the stone bust of sexy Dracula out front, or making one of your coworkers clean it up if they have.

You can’t say that this is exactly what you dreamed of doing for the rest of your life: living in the slimy suburbs of a tourist trap border city, doubling as a bartender and host at a vampire-themed titty bar. Whatever. You suppose there are worse things. The patrons are usually so distracted by the girls that are actually naked that they leave you alone. The most you get is a grunted drink order, sometimes with an accompanying snort if the man ordering has just spent a little time in a bathroom stall with a bump of Big C.

Usually. Tonight, there’s a man at the corner of the bar who seems to be paying you attention in particular. He’s eyeing you more than Kali, the dancer spinning half nude on the main stage pole as crimson-coloured corn syrup slides down her body in waves.

You noticed him right away. He looks nothing like your regulars; usually sex and death goth chicks and their annoying boyfriends, or black metal listeners who could use a good shower…or three. No, the man at the bar is unlike anyone you’ve ever seen walk in here before. A tailored suit jacket strains slightly against the breadth of his shoulders, waistcoat unbuttoned as he sits sipping at his third whiskey and coke. His hair is slicked yet stylishly tousled. The glint in his eye tells you that he knows he looks good. Cocky, then.

Mercy saunters up to him with a sway in her hips, skin as pale as the moon outside. She bleaches her hair to white twice a month, keeping it shorter to handle the damage. The woman is a vampire in the flesh if you’ve ever seen one, clad in crimson lace as she lays a hand of finely manicured claws on his shoulder.

Mercy leans into him, whispering something softly into his ear. At first, you can’t gauge his reaction, watching the exchange out of the corner of your eye. You’re torn between him shaking his head and telling her to get lost, or happily obliging to let her take him for a private show.

He seems to be considering it, too, eventually nodding with a bright smile. You can’t look at his mouth as he does, teeth too bright for the low light. It looks like they almost glow. He and Mercy disappear to the back, finding one of the empty private rooms to take their business. You finish polishing another rack of glasses before a customer flags you down for a refill.

You don’t see the man when you announce last call, or again before you’re locking the doors behind the last couple of stragglers. The girls are in the back already, taking off their makeup and packing up to head home. You give the bar another good wipe down as Martin and Phil take the dirty glasses to the back. When the bar is adequate in its cleanliness, you get started on spraying down the tables. Louis is mopping both stages, the sudsy water of the industrial pale turning black from the sweat, spit, and fake blood.

Closing at three o’clock, the lot of you get out at almost four-thirty in the morning. The light of dawn hasn’t quite hit the horizon, the moon missing from the sky behind clouds of city smog. The streets are truly dark. You navigate through the alley behind the club, passing a twin pair of Dumpsters.

It must have rained while you were inside, the sidewalk wet with remnants of it. Puddles pool in the corners of the road. If you were anyone else, if you were anywhere else, this scene might be a little concerning. This is the part where the killer emerges, silent but deadly behind the wisp of a girl as she walks the streets alone. The situation isn’t exactly safe, per say. Definitely not ideal. It isn’t your fault that the closest lot with free parking is four blocks away.

You are no wisp, and this is no monster movie. This is a Saturday night like any other.

Or, well, it’s supposed to be. Turning another corner, you come upon Mercy standing in the middle of the sidewalk. Still clad in her outfit from the club, she notices you almost immediately. You stop yourself, processing what it is you’re looking at. Darkness stains half of her silky lingerie, and in this lighting you can’t tell if it’s real or fake.

Mercy sways where she stands, eyes narrowing the slightest before her face softens, an agreeable smile pulling at her lips. Her six inch heels clop against the concrete as she closes the short distance between the two of you.

“Mercy?” you ask. “What are you doing out here?”

“Hey baby,” she drawls.

“Is everything okay?”

“Much better now,” Mercy smiles. Her teeth are stained red. All of this blood…is it hers?

“What happened? Did someone do something to you?”

Your pulse is racing as you dart your eyes around the street. It remains empty spare you and her, your eyes telling you that the coast is clear. Still, the situation feels off. Mercy is still smiling as your stomach roils in your gut. When she sways a little too far to the right, you grab ahold of her arm, looping it around your shoulder.

“We’ll get you back to my car, okay?” you ask.

Mercy takes a couple of steps with you before the axis of the world changes. No, wait. Only the axis of you. The dancer has you pressed to the hard, clumpy brick of a building. Her arm sits over your neck, putting pressure on your windpipe. You claw at her arm, scratching at the milky white of her skin. It’s no use. Mercy is putting those self-defense classes to good use trying to choke you out right now.

She moves in closer to your face, nosing at your jaw down to the side of your neck.

“Smells so good. I just need…a little bit,” Mercy breathes into your ear.

“No,” is the only word you can press past your lips.

“It’ll only hurt a little, honey,” she continues, voice dripping with sweetness. It’s the one she uses with clients, a tone that’s pulled thousands of dollars of cash from the eager wallets of horny bastards. “Then, it’s going to feel so, so good.”

As your vision speckles, Mercy licks a long, wet stripe along the skin of your neck. Something about the action sets you off; the pre-emptive finality of it activates your survival instincts as you bring a knee up to her gut. The blow winds her. Mercy pushes herself off of you to clutch at her stomach, a frustrated growl ripping itself from her throat.

“That wasn’t very nice, bitch,” she mutters.

You take off down the street, praying to whatever god that Mercy’s newfound kink for street violence hasn’t instilled in her the ability to sprint in Pleasers. You’re so close now; the lot where your Chevy sedan has been parked and baking since dinnertime is finally in sight. Air isn’t quite reaching your lungs as fast as you need it, the world around you hazey as you continue to run to your car.

Blinking, the parking lot is gone when you open your eyes again. Someone’s dropped a black curtain in front of you—or so you think. When you collide chest-first with a man on the sidewalk, you recontextualize. You were staring at the shoulder of his suit jacket.

Another moment passes as you realize just who the man is. Three-piece, from the club. The man who sat at the bar making eyes at you all night long. Tonight must be a cosmic punishment.

“Hey, whoa there.” He holds his hands out, almost in surrender. Concern blankets his features as he looks you over. “Everything alright?”

“Look, I really don’t have time—”

You stop yourself, sucking in frantic gasps of air. Grabbing onto the nearest wall, you brace yourself as you cough and choke on oxygen. The stranger watches you, then glances down the street the way you came. It seems his critical thinking skills have kicked in.

“Is someone following you?” he asks.

“My crazy fucking coworker…” you start, “has taken up casual street assault.”

“Let’s get you out of here, alright? Is your car nearby?”

You nod, pushing yourself up and off the wall. He guides you across the street to your car, standing with you as you sift through your bag for the keys. When you find them, you turn to the man.

“Well, thanks.”

“Not a problem at all,” he says. Slowly, he turns to walk away. Then you remember how many drinks you served him earlier.

“Hey, do you want a ride home?” Bad idea. Bad idea.

The man turns around and faces you once again. “I’m alright,” he says.

Three whiskey and cokes, a couple of shots, and whatever might have gone out to his private room that you hadn’t been able to keep track of.

“It’s not a hassle,” you shrug.

This is better. You would rather drive to a stranger’s house at dawn and drop him off than have him pass out somewhere in the street—or worse, let him try to drive home and end up hurting someone.

You tell him your name. He says his name is Max. The two of you get into your car. Buckling your seatbelt, you ask, “Maxwell? Or Maximillion?”

“Just Max.”

You hum. “Straight to the point.”

“I try to be.”

The car starts with minimal fanfare and you pull out of the parking lot. You scan the streets for any sign of Mercy, but come up empty in your search. You’re too tired to think about her or the odd encounter anymore.

“So what draws someone like you to a place like that?” you ask, referring to the club.

“Someone like me?” Max asks.

“Come on, look at you. The suit? You look like you’re fresh off the trading floor.”

“Not quite. Mergers and acquisitions,” he says.

“Point still stands,” you say. “What brings you to a gothic striptease?”

Max shrugs beside you. “Reminds me of college, I guess.”

You can’t help the laugh that falls from your mouth. The strange answer does nothing to satisfy your lingering curiosity, but you focus back on the road. Max tells you when to turn and which streets to take, leading you out of town. Twenty minutes into your drive, you realize he’s guiding you past the university and over the connecting bridge.

“Lewiston?” you ask, glancing at him. Max is already staring at you, eyes softening when they meet yours.

“It’s quaint,” he says.

And he’s right. When you pull into the driveway of his house, you momentarily wonder if you’ve arrived at the wrong address. Max doesn’t share the hesitance, getting out of the car and rounding the front to meet you at the driver’s side window. You roll it down, letting him duck his head in the slightest bit.

Max leans his forearms against the opening in the door. “Thanks for the ride,” he says. And then he’s offering to let you come inside, grab a coffee before you hit the road again.

You want to say no—should, considering how late (early?) it is. Glancing at the clock on your dashboard, you look up at Max to politely decline, but can’t summon the words. There’s something about his eyes, dark and wondrous as they stare. He doesn’t blink, waiting on your answer.

“A coffee couldn’t hurt,” you say. A smile pulls at the corners of his lips.

Max steps away from the door to let you get out. It closes with a solid thud, and then he’s leading you up to the front steps of his home. He doesn’t reach for any keys, simply turning the knob and pushing the door open. You barely make note of this, too distracted by his presence and the walls of his front hallway.

Everything in here seems perfect, the cutesy makings of a home somewhere in the countryside. And yet that’s what makes it totally out of place; the floral wallpaper, the simple wooden frames holding photos of faces you can’t quite parse in the dark. Maybe you’re letting outdated stereotypes get the better of you, but someone like Max would usually be living in a sleek, stainless steel cavern—not Little House on the Prairie.

Like he can read your mind, he says, “This isn’t my usual decor. It was my grandmother’s house.”

“Oh,” you nod. “Sorry for your loss.”

Max shakes his head, giving you a dismissive wave as he turns left and mills about a small yellow kitchen. “She was old. It happens. I’m in town to settle up some things, see what ends up happening to this place.”

“So you aren’t from around here,” you say.

Back turned to you, the laugh he lets out shakes his broad shoulders the slightest bit. “You caught me,” Max says.

“Between condolences and meetings with lawyers, you find solace watching naked women cover themselves in blood?”

He’s facing you again. The coffee has started to brew, steam rising from the machine as the warm smell of arabica greets your nose.

“Something like that,” he says. “What about you? The bartending life all that they say it is?”

“It’s alright.” You lean in the doorway, never quite stepping into the kitchen. “Not as terrible as other places.”

“But you aren’t fulfilled,” Max says for you.

“Things could be worse.”

“Hm,” is all he gives you.

Max gets two mugs out of his grandmother’s cupboards, filling them both when the coffee is done a few silent minutes later. He closes the distance between the counter and where you stand to hand one to you. Then he sits at the short table wedged in against the wall. The implication to sit down with him settles over you, but Max doesn’t say anything.

He’s waiting because he knows that you will. Deep down, you know it too.

When you cross over the threshold into the room, the world shifts. Only slightly, barely noticeable with the porcelain burning in your palm. You take the seat across from Max and set the coffee down.

“How is it?” he asks, nodding at it.

“Good,” you say. Neither of you have taken a sip of the stuff.

Max’s hand is on the table, resting on a doily next to his own mug. He asks, “What’s got a woman like you walking the streets at night all alone?”

“Free parking,” you say.

His lip twitches. “That all?”

“Fourteen dollars a night adds up when you work six times a week.”

“No, I mean,” Max says, “that can’t be it.”

His hand is closer to your own now. You aren’t sure when it moved. The proximity of his skin to yours sets your pulse racing again; instinct kicking in once more.

“Small town, lots of tourists. People from all over the world in and out of there all the time. You’re sure to come across some scary characters.”

“When you’re the one plying ‘em with alcohol, it’s a little different. Don’t wanna bite the hand that feeds,” you say. “I can handle myself.”

“I’m sure you can,” Max agrees. He uses his pointer finger to draw a line along the length of your thumb. His touch is ice cold. The contact makes you shiver.

“I don’t scare easy,” you continue, heart in your throat now.

“Is that right?” he asks.

You can’t tell what he means by that. You move to grab the mug before you, finally taking a sip to avoid answering the question. The brew is acrid. This close to your nose, it smells like lemons and bleach. Frowning into the mug, you look up at Max again. His chair sits empty.

Your brain can’t catch up with your eyes. Suddenly, something is pressing into your back, and for the second time tonight you find yourself pinned to an unfamiliar wall. Max is gentler than Mercy, a single hand at your shoulder to press you against the peeling paint behind you.

You open your mouth to say something, anything at all. Please don’t kill me. The coffee’s fine, I swear.

“Aw, don’t be scared,” he says, low and close to your ear. The words rumble in his chest, something like a purr against your ribcage.

“Don’t hurt me,” you whisper.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Max says. “You look so pretty like this.”

“What do you want?”

“What do you want?” he asks, turning the question around. “I’ve watched you… I know you, sweetheart. This isn’t the life you want, is it? Certainly not the life you deserve.”

Despite yourself, you start to lean a little into his body; aching cold against your broiling warmth. Your neck and forehead are damp with sweat.

“I can give you all you’ve ever wanted,” Max says. “Remake you and your life. Never grow old. Never die.”

It’s fun to be a vampire. Yeah, you’ve seen that nineties movie too.

All night, you’ve been missing the forest for the trees. Mercy and her frantic, violent behaviour; the stains that soaked her lingerie. Max sidling up to the bar again, out of place and yet perfectly suited to the grimey, bleeding environment.

“Max…” you breathe.

“All you have to do is say yes,” he says.

This man is overwhelming, breathing down your neck and nosing along your jaw. He’s not pinning you to the wall anymore. You’ve elected to stay here. Thoughts are hard to manage, everything covered in a thick fog. His presence is intoxicating, and you have a feeling that’s on purpose.

All girls don’t want bad boys, and yet you feel yourself caving. An answer sits on the tip of your tongue. If only you could spit out the goddamn words…

“Please,” you say.

“And she’s polite with it too. Sweet thing.” Max’s cool thumb drags across your cheek. “What do you need?”

“Anything. Everything, please.”

God, this is pathetic. In your right mind this scene would make you sick, but at this moment you can’t help it. You are a wound all over, easing into Max’s soothing touch. He can fix this—fix you, needy and wanting in this lovely little home. It’s all you want; all you’ve ever wanted.

Max kisses your neck once, twice before he pulls away. His right hand wraps around your ribs to support you, the other trailing up and over your stomach, your sternum. He splays his fingers across your clavicle, feeling the heat of your skin. His touch is bleak, sapping the warmth from your body.

You can’t tell if it’s his voice or your own echoing in your ears. What draws someone like you to a place like this? But what kind of place is this exactly?

Max shreds the front of your shirt, the sparkly white logo of the strip club torn in two as the fabric hangs limply off your body. With no bra underneath, he has free access to fondle your breast. His cold hand over your heart makes you shiver.

Kissing down your chest, he still holds your side, even as he crouches in front of you. Through bleary eyes, you watch as Max kisses at either of your hips before making quick work of the button and zipper of your jeans. You pull at his hair, needing him up here. Truly, you need him everywhere; to consume you and warp you beyond identification. Go ahead and make you something new.

“Max, please,” you whine.

He licks a line from your stomach to the dip between your neck and collarbones, cold air catching at the saliva in the absence of his tongue. Then he’s face to face with you again, smiling. Max slides his hands into your pants and tuts lightly. You’re wet, and he can feel it. Embarassment floods you, making you squirm.

“Oh honey, relax. It’s only natural,” he says.

Max rubs at you over your panties, lightly grazing your clit through the fabric with each pass. It’s gentle. It isn’t what you need.

You grip his arm harshly. No matter what he is, it hurts. A little bit of something flashes in his eyes, coming and going too quickly. Something you need.

“Give me what I want,” you demand softly.

“This what you want, huh?” Max asks.

He shoves his fingers past the band of your panties, the pads of his fingers brushing hard against you. Two of them find your clit, circling over it deliciously. Still, this isn’t enough. You whimper with a shake of your head.

“Oh no, sweetheart. That’s not it,” Max says knowingly. He’s teasing and it’s killing you. “Want these, huh?”

As he asks, Max bares his teeth at you; long and intimidating, the enamel looks sharp and pointy. Seeing them has you canting your hips up into his hand.

“Bite me,” you gasp. “Bite me, bite me, please.”

His fingers on you move impossibly faster, hedging you towards the edge at a lightning pace. Heat spreads from between your thighs outwards, creeping up through your stomach, your arms, your fingertips. It’s a struggle to keep yourself upright against the wall.

Max returns his mouth to your neck, sucking and licking at your skin. You close your eyes and wait, expecting the heavy hammer of pain to fall on you soon, orgasm just out of reach. Instead, he tugs your underwear down a little further in your jeans, cupping you in his hand. He slaps your cunt once, drawing your attention back to him.

“Look,” Max says. “Pay attention now.”

Then he continues his ministrations, fingers on your clit again. You open your mouth to groan. It’s then that he bites you, catching you off guard. The pain is searing, so hot that it’s cold underneath your skin. You can feel the length of his fangs where they dig deep into flesh.

Blood rushes from the punctures immediately, trailing in a thick stream down your body. Max gulps as he drinks it down, hand still working you over. Your orgasm drowns you, an unforgiving wave. It hurts, stomach clenching at the sensations that wrack your body. There is no air left in your lungs, all of it punched out by the pain. He’s holding your head underwater.

What kind of place is this? A very, very bad one. Strawberry Shortcake’s den of iniquity. You’re bleeding out surrounded by dainty floral wallpaper and a man—monster—that’s going to eat you alive.

You slump between the wall and Max’s chest as he withdraws his teeth from you. Blood pumps out of your carotid artery in a steady pace, another gush with each beat of your heart. It pools on the white tile of the floor. Everything is red and slippery.

Max bites into the flesh of his wrist and brings it to your lips. With the little strength you have left, you grip his arm and hold it against your mouth. You drink what slowly flows from his veins. Max’s blood is cold against your tongue, going down like a shot of cheap tequila.

“There you go, sweetheart. That feel better, hm?” he asks.

When he’s sure you’ve swallowed, he tips your head back gingerly. His face over yours, Max purses his lips. He lets spit gather between them before pushing it out of his mouth, pulling yours open with his thumb to catch it. The saliva, mixed with your own blood, slides coolly against your tongue.

You’re dying, probably. Maybe you’re already dead. Doesn’t matter, really.

Max is here. He has remade you.

#pedrostories #max phillips #max phillips x reader #bloodsucking bastards #max phillips fanfiction #pedro pascal #50 followers

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playbucky · 1 year

Text

Thick and Thin.

You’re apart of the 141 and go through the thick and thin of having Graves hunt the team down. Characters – Ghost, Reader (Pluto), Gaz, Price, Soap. Word Count – 2.4k

‘Lt.’ You greeted him, he dropped the chair down and looked ahead, the smoke from the cigarette spilled into the air. ‘Can I help you, Sarge?’ He asked, his voice gruff as you walked up to his side and noticed the small strip of skin was showing. ‘You got another smoke?’ You asked, looking out to the rare view you got from the safe house. ‘Yeah.’ He leant to the side, which revealed more skin as he pulled the packet out his pocket before he flicked the top open and held it out. You grabbed on of the cigarettes and placed the end in your mouth before he produced a small light, he pressed the trigger and the flame appeared. You bent at your hips and cupped the flame and placed the cigarette into it. ‘Thanks.’ You mumbled as you balanced the cigarette between your lips as you straightened. ‘Didn’t know you smoked.’ He said, you shrugged your shoulders as you closed your eyes and exhaled. ‘Smoke when I’m bored.’ You commented, he shook is head. ‘Bored?’ He quizzed, you hummed before you inhaled. ‘I can’t sleep, I guess the moons aren’t aligned.’ You joked as you motioned to the clear sky with the burning cigarette and glanced at him to see the corner of his lips quirk up. ‘Take if you didn’t sacrifice a lamb on the full moon?’ You asked. ‘Nah, was too busy with the haunting people.’ ‘I’ve told your to set an alarm it’ll help.’ You commented, he scoffed as he exhaled the white wisps of smoke before the pair of you feel into silence as you smoked, when you and Ghost were together you didn’t really need to speak, you had always found comfort in each other. You glanced down at the last of your cigarette, the ambers had reached the bottom, you pressed the hot end into the metal pole before you rolled your shoulders. You spared one last look out at the view. ‘I should head back, thanks for the smoke.’ You told him as you placed your hand on his shoulder and have it a squeeze as you passed by him. ‘See you bright and early Sarge.’ ‘Of course Lt, gotta bet Soap at the push ups.’ You reminded him as you opened the door and stepped inside.

‘Lt.’ Gaz said, he nodded his head as he walked over to the group and took a seat as he watched you and Soap do push up. Soap had a layer of sweat across his face and the back of his shirt was damp between his shoulder blades and with every exhale he sprayed swear off his nose. Where as you had a small sheen over you face but were going up and down smoothly. ‘What’s the score?’ Price asked, he lounged against the doorway. ‘Soap, fifty three, Pluto, sixty.’ Gaz informed the Captain, who looked amused. ‘Tenner on Pluto.’ Ghost said, Price and Gaz looked at him. ‘Just a tenner?’ You asked as you looked at them through your eyelashes, Soap grunted next to you. ‘Do you want to add to it?’ He asked, he leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees and dropped his hands between his thighs. ‘I get a thirty minute shower, no interruptions.’ You grunted out, the muscles down your back strained as you looked up at Ghost, making eye contact through the small holes. ‘What would you do for the remaining twenty?’ Gaz almost asked innocently, your brows furrowed as your pushed yourself up then down before answering. ‘This girl has needs that none of you can suppress.’ You commented, Soap froze in a plank as they all turned and looked at you and as you continued. ‘You really think I’m gonna get off when your all in the building?’ You quizzed, Soap muttered something before he continued on with his push ups. ‘I can take my time and get ready instead of rushing, do you know how long it’s been since I’ve did my full routine?’ You asked them, your voice sounded strained as pushed yourself up again.

Ghost stood outside the door, the corner of his lips quirked underneath the mask as he heard you hum some random tune, he raised his fist to knock on the door. Three times he did it, silence was on the other side before a ranging heat came from behind the wooden door. Ghost was flung back, his back collided with the wall before. He rolled onto his side, his ears ringing as Price and Gaz quickly ran over, Price bent down and helped him up onto his unsteady feet. ‘What the hell happened?’ Soap quizzed, he kept his pistol aimed into burning room. ‘We need to go.’ ‘Pluto.’ He motioned to the room. ‘Ghost, she didn’t -,’ Soap said, he turned back from the room that was completely engulfed in flames. ‘Johny don’t.’ His voice came out gruff as he shook his head, trying to steady his spinning head, Soap passed Price as he entered the living room with Gaz. ‘Ghost.’ Price said, his hands landed firmly on his shoulder. ‘We’ve been compromised.’ Price stated, Gaz appeared at the bottom of the hallway, bags draped over his shoulders, weapon held tightly as Soap showed up at his side.

‘Task force 141,’ the familiar voice said through the radio, ‘it’s seems like we’re at an impasse, with me having Pluto and you the flash drive.’ Graves said, they stood in a crescent moon shape as they waited. ‘I’ll give you thirty seconds to agree to hand the drive over before I…’ he trailed off. ‘Exterminate Pluto.’ He said, they looked at Price, who glanced at Ghost whose eyes were narrowed and had darkened. ‘We can’t.’ Gaz said, everyone looked at him. ‘Not with the information that’s on it.’ He added, quick to explain himself, ‘and I don’t have a enough time to create a fake.’ He said, his brain coming up with all solutions but none that would get you out. ‘Too slow.’ Graves said, then the loud bang made its way over the comms, they could also hear it from the building that they watched. Ghost tensed up, his gaze focused straight ahead as the others dropped their heads. The static filled the comms from your end before it went silent, Soap looked back at Ghost before he turned and marched away. ‘Ghost.’ Soap called out, he didn’t stop and Soap looked to Price. ‘Simon.’ Price said, Ghost froze as he clenched his jaw and turned back to the three men that looked at him. ‘We can’t leave her in there,’ Ghost said, he briefly closed his eyes, ‘Even if it’s just her corpse, she deserves a burial.’ He said, Price closed his eyes and sighed before he nodded.

‘Sarge?’ Ghost called out. The group moved into the room with their weapons raised, they looked over the room and noticed the chair toppled back, legs dangled over the side. They hurried over to it and Gaz inhaled when he saw the blood that had pooled under your head. ‘Pluto.’ Gaz breathed out, he dropped down and swung his weapon behind him. He automatically placed a hand on your neck, his fingers slid with the blood before your eyes snapped open and your hand grabbed his. You flipped him over and straddled him, your arm raised to punch him. ‘Sargent, it’s us.’ Ghost said, your shoulders tensed as you looked down to Gaz, the fear in his eyes was evident. You quickly stood up and wobbled, you gained your balance before the pain down the side of your head made you reach an arm up. You pulled your hand back and looked at the blood that coated it. ‘You need to -‘ ‘It’s fine.’ You snapped, then you caught Price as he looked at you, ‘I’ll clean it at the safe house or are we being picked up?’ You asked, but it didn’t matter you would be with them either way. You glanced around the room, the blood, your blood stained the floor and your noticed your weapon discarded on the ground. Parting from the group you walked over and picked it up, you checked the barrel and the clip before you lifted the strap and draped it over your shoulder. You could fell Ghost’s dark eyes on you as you joined the group and fell into step behind Gaz, his back stained red from when you flipped him over.

You had just finished cleaning the wound, giving the deep scrape a deep clean and watching your blood stain the water pink before it swirled and disappeared down the drain. Now thanks to how hard you were clenching your jaw, your jaw and head were sore, the missing skin and chunk of your ear didn’t help either. You ignored the door as it was opened when you cleaned the mess up and washed your hands, now on your search to find some painkillers to dull the pain. ‘What the hell we’re you thinking, Sarge?’ His voice bounced off the walls, aggravating the pounding of your head, you closed your eyes but were quick to open them as his heavy footsteps sounded at the smaller doorway. ‘He couldn’t get the drive.’ You commented, you pinched the bridge of your nose as you swallowed. ‘And what about you?’ He quizzed, you dropped your hand and looked at him. ‘My life for all theirs? Seems like a good deal.’ You commented, you went to walk away but his gloved hand grabbed your bicep and pulled you back. ‘You believe that little in yourself?’ He asked, you stared at him. ‘No, I know my assets but I also know when other things should be put above me.’ You to him truthfully. ‘So please Simon, let go of me before I put you on the ground.’ You snarled, he held eye contact with you for a few more seconds before he let go and walked off.

‘What’s happened between you and Ghost?’ Price asked as he dropped into the seat next to you. ‘A lovers quarrel?’ Soap quizzed, you rolled your eyes at his joke. ‘We’re the furthest thing from lovers.’ You said, Soap arched an eyebrow as he took a large bite of his sandwich, Price watched as you looked down at your watch then to your half eaten sandwich. ‘Here.’ You offered it to Soap, he looked at it confused, ‘I need to go train the newbies.’ You explained as you stood up, the chair slid along the mixture of sand and gravel. As Ghost rounded the corner, the group watched as you gave each other a nod before you walked away and Ghost walked over to them. Soap and Price looked at each other, confusion took over when Ghost’s large figure dropped into the seat across from them. ‘What have you done to piss her off?’ Price asked, Ghost lifted his head. ‘Nothing.’ He grumbled, Soap scoffed. ‘No?’ Soap asked, Ghosts eyes moved to him. ‘You aren’t talking like you normally do. Your conversations have completely disappeared and now you just nod at each other.’ He pointed out, Ghost narrowed his eyes. ‘What, I do pay attention.’ He commented, Price rolled his eyes as Soap kicked back and rested his feet on the plastic table, the chair and it creaked. ‘Fine,’ Price said, ‘the pair of you won’t admit it but don’t let it affect us out on the field, we know the pair of you have this connection.’ He said, Ghost looked down.

‘Sarge.’ His deep voice said, your hand dropped from the missing part of your ear and dragged along the scar on your cheek before your hand dropped to your lap. ‘Lt.’ You replied, listening as he walked over and took the seat next to you. ‘How are the recruits?’ He tried to make small talk. ‘Cheeky and cocky.’ You replied. ‘Reminds me of someone.’ He commented, you hummed and closed your eyes as you fell into silence. ‘I don’t like this.’ He broke the silence, you pursed your lips together. ‘Don’t like what?’ You asked, he moved in the seat. ‘Not talking to you.’ He said, your forehead crinkled as your brows dropped. ‘I know I pushed the barrier.’ He continued. ‘You didn’t Ghost.’ You replied, scratching your nails across the tough bit of dirt that was attached to your trousers. ‘I made you think that you’re just a part that we can change out, we can’t.’ He said, you shook your head. ‘You can.’ You told him. ‘No, no one would be able to put up with Soap. Price wouldn’t have a level head and Gaz wouldn’t be able to ramble on about the games and shit.’ He explained, the corner of your lips quirked slightly before you dipped your head. ‘And what about you Ghost?’ You asked, making eye contact, ‘does our friendship mean nothing to you now?’ You added, he looked down which gave you your answer. ‘You know what, I understand.’ You said, you tapped your knees before you stood up and stepped to walk away. ‘I can’t lose you.’ He admitted, you stopped and rested your hands on your waist as he looked up at you. ‘When he pulled that trigger my heart shattered, and then the blood-’ he trailed off, his hands clenched into fists on his lap as he looked down to the ground, finding the dirt suddenly interesting ‘I can’t lose the only one thing that is good from my past.’ He said, your hands dropped to your side as you looked at the man in front of you, seeing the young boy you had first meet. ‘Simon.’ You whispered, he looked up at you. ‘How do you think I feel every time you’ve disappeared and shown up with a new scar?’ You asked. ‘We, well I read the contract that we signed many moons ago and now that we’re in the one four one, we agreed to put our lives on the line in order to save the innocents back home.’ You explained, moving to sit next to him on the bench and took his hand, his fingers tightened around your smaller one. ‘I just-‘ he trailed off, your squeezed his fingers. ‘I know.’ You replied before you both leaned closer to each other, your heads rested against each other as he sighed. ‘I’ll live as long as you do.’ He said, you scoffed and dropped your head to his shoulder before you gently whacked his thigh. ‘What do you mean I was cocky and cheeky, that was you.’ You said recalling his earlier comment, he chuckled and wrapped his arm over your shoulders and pulled you close.

#Simon Riley x reader #reader x Simon riley #simon ‘ghost’ riley #simon riley #simon ‘ghost’ Riley x reader #reader x simon ‘ghost’ riley #soap mactavish #John price #MW2 #cod mw2 #cod mw x reader #reader x cod mw #call of duty

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garykingz · 11 months

Text

The smoke from the soccer boy.

You hated lectures, and you knew all too well that you could get that studying done better alone. So, whilst hiding under the university's bleachers, you try to do so. That studying becomes null when you notice the loud, cocky goalkeeper on the field across from you... and you were smitten.

Fluffy shit.

(AN: This is movie!Warren. Not the real life guy.)

—

Welp. Here you were again. You watched between the chairs of the bleachers as the Kentucky university students played their usual soccer – they were sure as shit serious every time you sat here and watched. You never watched in a creepy way; you were merely just bored each time you came here to skip a certain lesson. Or more, skip a seminar that lasted like two hours.

But since the boys gave you some little entertainment as you skipped, you supposed it wasn't so bad. Sometimes you'd bring a book. Or text your friends on your flip phone with a cute heart charm that hung from the bottom.

It'd been a few weeks since you started doing this and you wanted to feel guilty. You did a little. But you would've rather read or studied in peace under the bleachers in that time rather than listen to a lecture.

As you pulled your phone from your pocket to check the time, you smiled. Two hours was good. Placing your phone on the seat in front of you and pulling out a book you'd been reading the last couple of days, you leaned against a pole that kept up the seats. You hummed softly as you flicked the pages with grace; your eyes dancing across the words. This was better. Much–

"Fuck you, Warren!"

"You wish you could, Jake!"

Well, fuck. There went your damn peace. You let out a soft sigh before going back to your book. You were sure they would pack up soon. They had to. Right? They usually did already but you assumed this was taking longer for some reason.

"Lipka, aggressive touch!"

You could only make out chuckling after hearing what you assumed was the couch yell out. God, just leave.

"And that's a win for me~"

"Why you cryin' for, huh?!"

"Ooooh! Look at that, gorgeous catch. By me."

Whoever that was talking the most was the one who kept pulling you away from your book. You finally had enough and closed the book with an annoyed expression pressured into your face. As you stepped a little closer to the bleachers to see, you glanced up and down the field until–

"Warren, good catch!"

Him? Oh. Oh, he was pretty. He was taller than the rest of the boys but that wasn't the only thing that made him stand out. He had his brown curls pulled back into a small ponytail at the nape of his neck while wearing the most arrogant smirk across his face. It should've looked that way at least. But it didn't. He looked… like he was the main character to your favourite romance YA novels.

Your hands reached out a little as your fingertips pressed against the inside of the bleacher seats as you peered through them. This Warren was playing goalkeeper. Before you knew it, you kept your eyes on him the majority of their play. You watched as every now and then he would pull his white gloves tighter onto his hands and then wipe dirt from his face with them. You watched in awe as his shirt would lift just that little every time he jumped and stopped the ball. And he was good at that too. Really good.

You didn't know that you ever cared for sports this much. But with your eyes dancing over Warren's every move – you sure as hell liked whatever this sport was. …If you even remembered half the time what you were watching.

When you heard a bell ring and the boys finally stopped playing, your eyes widened. Oh, shit. Had you actually wasted your whole time watching this damn game for a cute boy? That wasn't unlike you to get smitten but the whole damn lesson? Reality check – you were supposed to be studying.

As you pulled your flip phone from the seat and placed your book into your bag, you turned to walk away when you noticed Warren with two other boys, talking and laughing together. His smile was… really beautiful. You were surprised you hadn't seen him on campus before. Well, you were glad to know your hiding spot was going to shed a little entertainment now at least.

And it did. A whole two weeks passed and you kept up your streak. The Tuesday and the Thursday, you skipped that damn same lecture. You did get some studying in – you weren't going to slack off completely… but you sure did abandon your book more than a few times to watch Warren between the bleacher seats again. Damn it. You hated how charming you thought this guy was. Sure, you hadn't breathed one word to the man but… you were just as sure you were going to at some point. …Right?

When you heard the bell ring for next classes; you picked up your book that had only been flipped a few pages since sitting down. Oops. You made sure you were going to read more next time. When you placed them into your bag, your eyes looked between the bleacher seats once more. And when you did…

"Warren, come on, man!"

You felt your heart race in your chest as you had your back against one of the beams that held up the seats. You held your bag to your chest as you clutched it tightly. He was looking over to you. No – he was looking at you.

Those seats weren't making you completely invisible and you knew that. But you knew they wouldn't notice you while playing their games. …That wasn't until that bell rang and your eyes met with his. "Oh, God," you whispered under your breath. You couldn't move now. You couldn't leave when they were now leaving so quickly.

The way he pushed his brown curls back out of his face with his gloves fingers; his smirk on his face for that small moment before he turned to you. He looked so serious when you met eyes with him. He didn't see you… He couldn't have. It was Warren; he would've smirked or given you a wave at least. It was Warren Lipka, afterall.

Ten minutes must've passed as you stayed there. You had to make sure they finally left. Sure, you were going to be late for your next class but you had to know they– he was gone.

Now; when that Thursday came around, you questioned whether or not to go back to your usual hiding spot while you ditched. You knew you were bunking off under there way before you even noticed Warren so, it shouldn't have stopped you. But somehow, you were hesitant. You were hesitant to be caught. …And then… as you drew closer to the bleachers and the soccer field was empty of players, you held your bag under both your arms in front of you.

"Look at you, that's some moves you got there."

His voice rang in your head and, annoyingly enough, it caused you to bring a small flustered smile to your face. God, were you smitten.

Fine.

You said to yourself before walking over to those same seats. Your shoes grazed against the grass and you made your way over. As you finally walked under as you have done many times before, you pulled your bag from your shoulder and dug around inside for your book. When you took it out and placed the bag on the floor, you were surely enough ready to actually get some studying in.

So, you thought.

When you looked up from taking your book out, you noticed a boy on the other side of the seats. He stood facing the field, back to you as he held one hand in his pocket and his other to his face. Your eyes danced up his body, from his jeans, to his red plaid jacket that hung over his shoulders to his– …His dark brown curls that blew in the wind every now and then.

Warren?

As the wind blew his hair, you noticed there was smoke spurring out into the breeze from his face. That smell… Was that weed? You almost doubted it was Warren for a moment before you heard him sigh.

"Enough of this, hm."

That voice. That deep, husky sounding voice. It was Warren Lipka, alright. What the hell was he doing? Wasn't there practise today?

You couldn't help but look through the bleachers at him, your fingertips pressed against the back of one of the seat rows. He was quiet. It was unlike him – from what you'd seen he was so enthusiastic on the playing field. But right there, it seemed as though, for what you could tell, was a sense of sadness looming over him. Sadness? Lost in thought? Something.

Watching him take a puff from his joint and pull it away between his index finger and thumb, your eyes seemed fixated on him. That man you'd been admiring from afar on the soccer field seemed very different from the man you were longing at right now. Like, somehow, you noticed a puzzle piece was missing from his usual charismatic front you'd been so fond of.

When you leaned in a little closer, Warren blew the smoke from between his lips.

Cough. Cough, cough.

Oh, no.

You quickly covered your mouth and took a step back, your eyes narrowing now as you tried to keep as quiet as possible.

"Oh, and here I thought you were gonna stay quiet."

With your hands over your mouth, you felt your heart race in your chest as you took a step back away from the seats. Away from Warren.

As you keep stepping back, the heel of your foot catches your bag and you fall back, landing on the grass. "Ah! S– Shit…"

As you wince a little and collect yourself again, your eyes notice sneakers now facing you on the opposite side of the bleachers. When your eyes drifted up, one seat, two seats, three seats…

Warren was looking down at you, pulling the joint away from his lips again let out a small chuckle. "You're good but no ninja."

You're silent – like everything you might've ever planned out to say to him had been thrown into the trash. Into the landfill. You had your chance and now it was ruined. You felt your eyes water a little as you pulled yourself up, bringing your bag with you now.

"I… wasn't hiding," you finally replied.

"Hm?" the man hummed, raising an eyebrow. "Really? 'Cause it sure as shit looked like you were."

You felt your chest tighten and your eyes flicker away from the man you'd been admiring over the weeks. When you gulp, you grip the strap of your bag over your shoulder now and turn around to walk away. You'd never felt so embarrassed.

"What's your name?"

You suddenly stopped when Warren's deep voice perked your ears.

"Don't tell me you're gonna walk away and not give me a name."

With your brows furrowing more and more in a pondering state, you part your lips. Maybe it was stupid to just answer on the spot. Or maybe it wasn't. But he finally acknowledged you. After all this time, he…

"Y/N… My name is Y/N," you finally spoke; your back still turned to Warren.

"You like hiding under here, Y/N?"

You turn around a little when you hear his feet shuffle on the ground; walking around the bleachers now to stand a small distance away from you to your left. "There's better places to ditch on campus, y'know."

"It was quiet here usually," you replied softly. With your hand still around the strap of your bag, you bring yourself to turn to him fully now. "Not until recently."

"Soccer fields are pretty loud spaces. Not great for reading n' shit," Warren explained, his voice calm and collected; but that almost made you more nervous.

"Not usually. Only when… certain players are there." Your eyes finally meet his and he offers you another smirk.

"You didn't enjoy my play?" he asked with a teasing tone.

You were quiet for a moment before speaking up again, "You're… e– entertaining, for sure."

"Oh, I'm real entertaining," Warren replied, his brows lifting a little as he kept his gaze on you. It was intense enough to make you turn away, afraid he might notice the flushed expression on your face.

"So, what class?" he asked, taking another puff from his joint.

"What…?" you asked, your eyes flickering to him for a moment.

"What class have you been ditchin'?"

You swallow before taking in a small, sharp exhale through your nose. "Art 1800s history. It's nothing I can't learn on my own time. It's just a lecture class."

"...Art, huh?"

You noticed the shift of tone in his voice when you finally turned back to him; your hand not leaving the strap of your messenger bag. "Yeah," you confirmed.

"Well, how about we hang out not under the bleachers on Saturday," he said; more being a statement than a question.

"Are you… asking me out?" you asked, almost as if you were making sure of what he was saying.

A small chuckle leaves his lips which causes your eyes to widen. Oh, no. He wasn't. He wasn't at all. You're so–

"Yeah, Y/N. Art student to soccer student. Sound good?"

When your eyes search his face; your attention falls to his lips when he smirks again, pulling the joint to them once more before flicking it to the ground.

"You don't–"

"Y– Yes. Sure… I'd like that," you replied, almost too quickly as your words kept going.

Warren's cocky smirk turned into a playful smile as his hands made their way into the pockets of his worn jeans. "'Aight, then."

"Wait," you muttered softly. "Why'd… you ask? I mean…"

"These seats aren't an invisible cloak, sweetheart. It was nice to have a cute audience every time I played," he explained. As his brown curls blew with the slight breeze, you felt your brows raise a little. Gosh, he really was… beautiful.

"I see," you replied, your voice seemingly more soft than before.

"Art. So, you know Spencer, right?" Warren asked, his voice perking up a little.

"Spencer… Reinhard?" you pondered, wondering why he's asking about that boy so randomly.

"Mhm. Get him to give my number to you. I'll text you later."

When he gave you one last smile, he turned around and began to walk away. As your eyes were about to turn away from him, you heard his footsteps stop.

"I hope I'll see you Tuesday still, though, yeah?" he perked up, turning his head back to you.

You let out a small breathy laugh and nodded with a smile, "Of course."

#rambles #american animals #movies #fic #evan peters #warren lipka

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penguinwithitsarseonfire · 1 year

Text

Didn't Have It In Myself to go With Grace

Part 1 | Part 2 (you're here!) | Part 3 | Part 4 |

Pairing: 10th Doctor x Reader

Word Count: 4,228

Warnings: We're getting some minor violence and body horror

Summary: The Doctor takes you and Donna to Arteides for the biggest wedding in the universe. You have a grand time, meeting the queens, taking in the music, and suffering the far too knowing gaze of one particular Queen. The party, unfortunately, is rudely interrupted.

A/N: So firstly, apologies this is so late!! I'm definitely continuing this, thanks for sticking with me! Also I was kinda misleading in the first part. This story will have an unhappy ending, the happy ending comes in the sequel, which is already in the works!

“It’s the biggest celebration in the universe!” The Doctor said with a grin, flicking several switches on the console.

“What is?” Donna asked, following behind him. She was taking careful note of what buttons he pressed.

He turned to face Donna, raising an eyebrow before side stepping away from the console. You poked your head to the side. If Donna couldn’t watch, then maybe you could.

“The wedding of Queen Karyia and Consort Inari,” the Doctor continued. He threw his screwdriver in the air, caught it, then pointed it towards you. “Just picture it, the entire city in the throes of a month long party. Technology, art, music, all the best highlights of the enlightenment age - which the pair ushered in, mind you.”

You shook your head lightly. “Doctor, we don’t know who they are.”

“Oh they’re the rulers of Arteides,” he said casually, as if that was something you were supposed to know. He reached over to the other side of the console where Donna couldn’t see.

She huffed, glaring at the back of his head. You tried not to laugh. This back and forth was a growing trend for them.

“Still don’t know what that is,” you said, stalking around so you could make note of what he was doing. He pressed down a couple of buttons, red, blue, then orange. You locked eyes with Donna, mouthing the order. She gave you a conspiratorial grin.

The Doctor’s face fell into shock as he turned to you, all preparations for flight forgotten. For a moment you blanched – had he seen you? As casually as you could, you leaned against one of the pillars, gesturing for him to speak. “The party?”

“Oh,” his face brightened. “Oh that’s right! We never went to the Arteides’ settlement on Pluto. We wound up in Kathra instead!”

You and Donna screwed your faces up at that particular memory. It had involved far more slime than either of you were comfortable with.

With a similar air of casualness to your own, Donna spoke. “The pretzel room would’ve helped out with that.”

She shimmied closer to where the controls were on the console.

The Doctor glared at her, pointing the screwdriver at her like it was a wand. “That-”

“Doctor please,” You said, because if you had to hear another argument about the pretzel incident, you were going to go insane. You gestured towards him to continue. “The Arteides’ settlement?”

If it made for a distraction for Donna, the Doctor was none the wiser.

He turned a rotor on the console. You were kind of impressed, it looked like an exact 45 degree turn to the right. You tried to avoid meeting Donna’s gaze and she leaned over slightly to see the rotor. You were not about to draw the Doctor’s attention to her.

The Doctor met her gaze, freezing Donna in her steps. “Salt and chocolate,” she said, feigning perfect ignorance in her behaviour. “I’m just saying, it would’ve helped a lot,”

You shot her a look. You were not getting into this again.

You noticed The Doctor pause, looking at her. There was this moment, a prolonged pause where no one said anything. A light tension crackled in the air.

Then the Doctor opened his mouth.

“Alight!” You jumped off the pole you were leaning on, scrambling towards the console before they could go at it again. “Tell us about this party Doctor, c’mon. Why’re we going?”

“Ah,” the Doctor began, and you were grateful for distracting him. “Queen Karyia and Consort Inari have been together for age’s, right. Like – I’m talking years, and just a decade off from her reaching the middle of her reign, Karyia marries her.”

You nod your head slowly, ignoring the notebook Donna pulled out and – where did she even get that? “Okay,” you prompted, refocusing on the Doctor. “So why’s it a big deal?”

“So think of what the greats have ushered in on Earth, Catherine the Great, Alexander the Great, Victoria, Anne Gloria,” he was gesturing into the air, Donna’s nosing forgotten. “When one of them gets married, it’s the talk of the century. Think of that,” he made a stretching motion with his hands. “But bigger.”

“So it’s like a festival?”

The Doctor grinned. “Sure – parts of it. But it’s also more.”

He danced around the console, flicking levers and pressing buttons. You tried to follow the movement. There were two red buttons he pushed simultaneously, or was it one and then the other shortly after? The Tardis made a whirring noise and he cranked something, but you couldn’t for the life of see what he held.

The Doctors hands flew over the controls. A button pressed here would quickly pop upright as he made some other sort of movement over there. You struggled to keep track.

After a moment he paused, eyeing you, then Donna. “And both of you,” he said, his voice far too knowing. “It’s gonna take more than sneaking about to learn how to fly this old girl.”

Donna spluttered out a protest, your own face falling as the Doctor gave a giddy laugh. He looked up at the centre piece, pushing down the final lever. “Allonsy!”

The Tardis shook. You wrapped yourself around the nearest structure, the console room swaying. Donna let out a cry. She was knocked into the railing, her knuckles white by your side. You were used to this – you were supposed to be used to this. But the shaking was violent, like the Tardis was struggling against chains you couldn’t see.

The familiar wheezing, groaning of the Tardis was louder – harsher. It screamed sharp in your ears. You almost squeezed your eyes shut, as if that would drown out the noise.

Then it stopped. The Tardis settled. And the familiar chime of the final landing rang out through the room.

You looked around, slowly detangling yourself from the pillar. The Doctor’s hair was windswept, his eyes slightly surprised. “Well,” he said. “A bit more dramatic than expected.” “Dramatic?” Donna’s voice was hard. She unfurled her hands, knuckles still white as they closed into fists. One hand still deftly held the notebook. She turned to face the Doctor. “You have some explaining to do spaceman, what the bloody hell was that?”

“Well,” he drew out the word. “I may have been more theatrical with the controls than normal. Throwing you off the scent, as it were.”

You rocked your head into the pillar, taking in a deep breath. After a moment, you moved over to Donna, plucking the notebook out of her hand. “Please tell me we’re at Arteides,” you spoke into empty space. “I swear if we need pretzels or something-”

“No pretzels,” the Doctor said. At least he had the decency to look sheepish.

You ran a hand through your hair. “So, the party?” The Doctor brightened. Bouncing over to the door. “Yes! Come on you lot, plenty of time to get mad at me later.”

Donna snorted.

Subtly, you passed the notebook back to her, making sure the Doctor wasn’t there to see. You two could draw up a plan some other time, but the Doctor didn’t need to know. She slipped it into her handbag.

With another deep breath, you locked arms with Donna, following that madman out into a party you only had some understanding of.

Whatever warning the Doctor could have given you though, it would never have been enough.

It was vibrant.

Cobblestone streets wore sheets of oranges, purples, and greens. Confetti hung in the air, suspended in glitter and light. The music felt tangible, wrapping itself around your frame and holding tight. It was joyful, it was interesting, it was barely describable.

“The music,” Donna cried. “Is it 80’s music? Or like some sort of folk remix?”

It was the closest description you could agree with. The sound snaked through your body, drawing your focus to the smell. Spices, fruit, wine, you could barely pinpoint anything that was familiar. It danced around your head, dragging your attention through the crowds.

And the crowds. People wore colours here that you had never seen before. They were draped in gowns, fabric that sparkled, fabric that changed colour in the light. Others wore suits, or what you could best interpret as suits. They wore patterns you couldn’t explain, in colours you couldn’t name.

The people were baked in laughter, in conversation that felt so distant, yet so intimate – like all the best parties. They walked in pairs, or stood in small groups, animated in discussion. Some wore masks, others wore elaborate make up, the kind only those professional makeup artists on social media seemed to pull off. Some wore nothing at all, letting the light reflect against their eyes.

Glancing down at your old jumper, you felt sorely underdressed.

The Doctor was off, his laughter distant with the trail of his trench coat. In an instant you were following, Donna close by your side.

Up close, you were surprised to find that all the people here were human. You expected something… grander. Aliens with antenna, or with three eyes. Something to make them distinct, as completely unordinary and splendid as the rest of the place.

Instead, the humans – because they were human, down to the ways their noses turned and the way their hair folded, smiled as you passed. They waved as if you were completely in place, like your boots and jeans didn’t stick you out like a sore thumb.

Your thoughts were drowned by the music. It blended into classical, the transition nearly effortless save the way the dancing around you shifted. You found yourselves in a large open ballroom, with an orchestra lining one entire side. The orchestra was framed by the most brilliant view.

Oranges, purples, pinks, and blues painted the sky, intermixed by red and pink clouds. Sunset here seemed to stand still, suspended in one perfect moment. A ravine sat behind the orchestra, draped under the golden sky. There wasn’t even a barrier, one swell swoop and someone could tumble on down. You could hear a river run languidly, and itched to see it. Donnas arm in your own held you back.

“I parked us close,” the Doctor said, and, despite the music, you could hear him perfectly. His voice bubbled with excitement. “This party is happening all over the planet, but this is the place to be,” his eyes scanned the crowd until gently, he raised his finger, pointing towards a raised platform. “That’s them. The newlyweds.”

They were beautiful.

Queen Karyia, because in that crown she was clearly the queen, wore a golden dress. It went down her body in waves, a stark contrast against her rich ebony skin. Her hair glowed under the chandelier light above her, her tight curls giving a halo-like effect against her face. She smiled warmly at her partner, her eyes glittering.

Consort Inari – because who else would it be, stood by her side, caught in laughter. She was doubled over, a crease forming in her deep, navy dress. Her pale skin was adorned in silver, a small tiara caught in her short dark hair. She looked up, her eyes falling on you, Donna and the Doctor. She placed a hand onto Queen Karyia’s forearm, whose gaze followed.

A bundle of nerves curled in your throat, which you swallowed nervously.

Donna spoke before you could get the words out. “Is it a good thing that they’ve spotted us?”

“Oh it’s perfect,” the Doctor replied, his eyes wide. Excited.

They descended from the platform, though you couldn’t see any stairs, and made their way through the crowd. Their place here must have been as effortless as breathing, as they meandered through without as much as even a glance from the guests.

Queen Karyia broke out into a warm, giddy smile. “Doctor,” she said, her voice deep and warm, like a golden age Hollywood starlet. “Oh it is good to see you.”

Consort Inari stood by her side, her smile just as kind, but smaller, reserved. “You have kept yourself away for too long, old friend.” “Ah well y’know how it is,” the Doctor said. “Had places to see, friends to show the universe too – oh,” he gestured to you and Donna. “Speaking of…” Donna unwound her arm from yours, reaching out to shake their hands, before pausing it in mid-air. “Uh – do we shake your hands? I don’t know the proper etiquette for this.”

Queen Karyia laughed, taking Donna’s hand from its awkward hover. “Queen Karyia,” she said. “But any friend of the Doctor’s is a friend of mine. You may call me Karyia.”

“Inari,” her partner introduced, her gaze falling onto you. “You sure know how to pick them, Doctor.”

You swallowed again, suddenly self-conscious. You gave them a small wave, introducing yourself. Karyia’s gaze followed, and she gave you an appraising, if unsurprised look. Her eyes sparkled with mirth. “As bright eyed as the last, Doctor. Surely you have a type?”

Donna let out a cackle, and you watched, envious, as her nerves seemed to fall away. “Oh my god he does, doesn’t he! You should have seen the Doctor with Amelia Earhart-”

“Everyone enjoys flying,” you said, burning with embarrassment. You whacked her hand, which had begun to move animatedly as she spoke. You couldn’t begin to think that the Doctor thought of you like that, that he looked at you the same way he had looked at her. “Donna shut up.”

You met marvellous people all the time, that was par for the course when travelling with the Doctor. And it was wonderful – really, it was! But the Doctor looked at those people like they restructured the planets they walked on, that they grasped onto individual matter and shaped it into golden stardust.

You didn’t do that, so he never looked at you like that.

Donna raised an eyebrow at you, somewhat questioning, but mostly amused. She gave you that look often, especially in regard to the Doctor. Once, she had told you it was the look she gave you when you were particularly dense, but she had never elaborated on that, so you chose to do the same.

The queens gave Donna an equal conspiratorial smile, although Karyia’s was wider. “It’s an absolute pleasure to meet you,” Karyia said. “Doctor, where have you been hiding these two?”

The Doctor rubbed the back of his neck, skin flushed. Was he embarrassed? “Earth.” He told them. He rocked on the balls of his feet, the redness on his face clearing. “Early 21st century. Hell of a time.”

“Indeed,” Inari said. “You must share with us stories from your time. My Karyia is a fan.”

Karyia’s hands ghosted over your arm, securing onto your elbow. “Do let us show you around, won’t you? I would adore learning of your experiences.”

The hand on your arm was warm, solid, but light enough that you could brush out of her hold if you wanted to. You gave her a grin. “Yeah, definitely. I’d love to hear all about your world too.”

Inari turned towards Donna. “Do you dance?”

Donna’s face stretched into a somewhat awkward, apprehensive smile. “Maybe after a pint.”

The Doctor brightened. “Oh, they have excellent ginger beer here. Love the stuff, makes your nose itch,” his attention was swayed by a passing waiter, who held a tray of overfilling food. They were bright red, closer to the colour of paint than food. The Doctor’s eyes lit up. “Oh, they have nibbles!”

Inari let a small laugh. “Well then, let us get some.”

She gave Karyia a nod, one that was so subtle that had you not been watching her, had your eyes not been focusing on the way the silver jewellery in her ears caught the light, you would have missed it all together.

Karyia walked you away from where you had gathered, the others heading to... somewhere. You presumed a bar, but you couldn’t see one around.

Karyia was an excellent tour guide. Her free hand waved over the different people that were in this open space. She spoke about the meaning of different clothes, their shape, their style, their history – the reason why they wore what they did.

“…She’s wearing a bell bottom skirt,” she would wave towards one woman, her dress a pillow of pastry, her hair curled and shaped like the branches of a Japanese maple, red and beautiful. “Most likely because she knows she looks good in it, but the style was popularised on the banks of the Northern Sea…”

Karyia told you of the colours, the way they took up the space, weaved themselves through everyone at the party – the whole party, all over the planet. She spoke of the golds, silvers, and blues, the reds and oranges, the colours you couldn’t yet name, with the same sort of awe you felt when you first saw them.

“…And it’s delightful,” she would say, and she would direct your gaze to a wall of tear drop crystal, swaying in an unfelt breeze. “Colour is for all, it shapes us, builds us. We celebrate it the way it celebrates us. Without colour, we are nothing…”

She walked you to the orchestra. Some played instruments you were familiar with, violins, clarinets, flutes. Others were less so, they were made in odd shapes, twisted wood and bright metal. They sounded both distinctly different, and intimately familiar, and it washed over you.

“…It is my favourite form of music, classical,” Karyia would explain. “There is something so gravity defying, something so intimate about it…”

And eventually, she would pull you away, further from the crowds, further from the orchestra, and the colours, the music, and the noise. Karyia would pull you into a small corner, and with a twinkle in her eye, one that was coy, honest, she would ask you.

“How long has the Doctor been in love with you?”

And it didn’t matter that you were standing at the edge of open space, the wall of tear drop crystals framing your back. It didn’t matter that the crowds, the colours, the music, the Doctor, were all so far away.

The noise came to a stop, fell away until all you could hear, all you could feel, was the way your heart dropped.

Your voice came out in a stumble, breathless. “I – wait what? I – I don’t know what you mean.”

Karyia gave you a crooked grin. It was a lovely smile, bright and warm. But it looked odd on her face, like something imperfect shouldn’t sit there, shouldn’t form there.

“I am a Queen,” she told you. “And I would like to think I am a good one, an observant one,” her expression hardened slightly, daring you to argue with her.

Of course, you did not.

She continued. “If I did not know what a man in love looks like, I would have been felled years ago.”

The words were sobering, they wrapped around your hammering heart.

“I don’t know if that true of the Doctor though…” you said, doubt clawing against the back of your neck. “Like – he’s the Doctor. He’s…” your voice lost the words.

Karyia’s hand wrapped around yours, holding you firm. “What do you think of, may I ask,” she said. “When you think of home?”

Brown eyes. It should have startled you how fast they swam into your mind. Brown eyes, ridiculous gravity defining hair, a bright smile.

Home was the Doctor.

You shook your head, as if you could physically shake the image of him from your mind. “What are you getting at?”

“Maybe,” Karyia’s voice was soft, her eyes twinkled with knowing, stripping you bare. “You should consider what he thinks of – or rather, who he thinks of – when he thinks of home.”

“If I were a jealous woman,” a familiar voice interrupted, full of mirth. “I might think you were in a compromising state.”

You flushed, turning towards Inari. She gave you a satisfied smirk, nodding towards the way Karyia’s hand was clasped over your own, her other hand still on your arm. Donna stood by her side; eyebrow raised curiously. The Doctor, on the other hand, looked pensive.

You thought about the ridiculous hearing he had – had he heard? “Oh woe is me,” Kari laughed. “And during our wedding month,” she gave Donna a considering look. “Did you take her dancing while she is dressed like in that attire?”

Inari gave her a small smile. “I could not insult your orchestra like that my love,” she turned to Donna. “Or our friend here. You do deserve better clothing Donna.”

“Your friend,” Donna said, slightly miffed. “Is standing right here.”

You stayed quiet, eyes trained on the Doctor. He had his thinking face on, the one he didn’t think you – or anyone else, could recognise. It was a ruminating, near brooding expression, one he only wore when he was particularly stumped.

Karyia noticed just after you did, and turned her gaze to him. “And what of you Doctor, enjoying the music?”

The Doctor turned to you both, as if waking from a dream. “Oh me? Oh,” he drew out the sound. “I’m very happy, as happy as a happy berry.”

You frowned in confusion. It was… a bizarre sentence.

Karyia however, laughed again, and you figured the Doctor was referencing very specific planet humour here.

Inari’s small smile grew ever so slightly, before addressing Karyia again. “I found Luc, and have sent him to gather some clothing for these three.”

The Doctor looked affronted. “I’m dressed wonderfully thank you. I’m even donning my best coat; Janis Joplin gave me this coat.”

“And if we knew who they were,” Inari said with a near sarcastic drawl. “I’m sure we would be in awe.”

Donna shrugged. “It actually is a bit cool.”

The Doctor brightened slightly. “I’ve never thought about that much, being cool. But yeah, it’ll definitely grow on me.”

With a silent cue, Karyia guided you all back to the party. A stocky man with thinning hair stood by the orchestra, a clothing rack sat snugly behind him. “I-I have gathered everything you asked for miss – erm, queen – no, erm,-”

Inari waved a hand, cutting the man’s stuttering to a halt. She gave him a small, reassuring smile. “Thank you Luc, you have been most hopeful.”

The man’s – Luc his name was, brightened, his mouth growing into a large grin. “Oh excellent! I am most happy, erm – very honoured and… erm,”

Karyia spoke softly. “Thank you, Luc. That will be all.”

His mouth snapped shut. He nodded quickly, still smiling, and scurried off into the crowd.

Karyia clapped her hands together. “Delightful! Now you may all chose a gown,” she eyed the Doctor. “This includes you, Doctor.”

The Doctor went to reply, but was interrupting by a jarring speech, which cut off the orchestra. It ripped you from conversation. In the silence, you turned. Black smoke curled around the conductor, wrapping itself through her hair and up her baton. It pooled at her feet. Her orchestra sat frozen, hands still against their instruments, paused mid-note.

“How lovely,” the conductor spoke – except, it couldn’t be her. Her voice twisted down your spine. It was closer to a growl than anything human. It was low, distorted. It made your skin crawl.

“The greatest party of the century,” she continued, and turned to face the room.

You recoiled, your heart slamming into your throat. Her skin was pale, clammy, with a golden, bubbly shine. Her hair leaked, pearls of black wriggling against her hairline. Smoke turned to dust as it dripped onto the floor. Her mouth was pulled taught, a smile curled into a snarl.

Her eyes though. Her eyes were human.

And they were terrified.

She gnashed her teeth. “And I wasn’t invited?”

Tendrils of smoke whipped from her fingers, snaking their way to near a dozen orchestra members. The smoke liquefied, moving in an oil, tar like substance, and slunk into their skulls. It pooled over their eyes, and forced its way into their mouths and nostrils. Branches snapped themselves off, wrapping themselves around their throats.

Steam curled around them – or was it smoke? It gathered in waves around tight buns and cropped styles, burning at their hair. It was almost like the smoke was dancing. Almost.

Because their bodies fell from their heads.

The pungent smell of burning flesh didn’t hit you. Not immediately. It was slow, rolling like the bodies rolled down the stage. Their cauterised necks flopped by the barrier, like they were waving.

The remaining orchestra sat – frozen.

The string from a violin bow snapped.

The smell hit you, putrid and hard. It burned against your nose, tart and grating. It coiled itself into your gut, and clawed up your throat. No – that was the bile.

“Maybe then,” the black tendrils lifted the heads, their eyes going from black pools to bright red spotlights. They cast an eerie glow against the stage. “I’ll make my own party,” her voice moved like ice. Harsh and disjointed. It wasn’t human. “Think I can have your fun?”

The eyes of the head closest to you went hot, red growing brighter. In an instant, a jolt of electric energy shot forth, hitting a dancer by the stage. Her scream was lost in her throat.

A clarinet clattered against the floor.

And all hell broke loose.

A/N^2: Tag list - @fizzymilkduds @justfloatingthroughtime @girl-inthestars @howdidthishapen @hopefulfuturenovelauthor - let me know if you'd like to be included! The next part will be out in a week!

#the doctor x reader #tenth doctor imagine #10th doctor x reader #tenth doctor x reader #10th doctor #Doctor Who #DW #Didn't Have It In Myself to go With Grace

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love-toxin · 2 years

Note

Eddie with a sweet girlfriend who works as a babysitter. Sneaking over to the house where shes working, being quiet while she lays the kiddos down, cuddling on the couch that turns into a makeout session and Eddie makes a joke about making her into a mom. She's so good with kids and it just has Eddies head spinning thinking about giving her their own little baby to care for.

im gonna go insane

you're barely sat down for a few minutes before that telltale tap tap tap wakes you out of your own thoughts. it keeps going as you follow the noise, tap tap tap, down the hallway of the second floor, tap tap tap, through the door of the spare bedroom the family has set up, tap tap tap.

finally, when you draw the curtains with a ssshhh of the rings sliding across the pole they're hung on, your lips break into a smile and your eyes do a dramatic roll at the face grinning at you through the window. with a hup and two hands stuck underneath it, you push it up and open to get a breeze of cool air right in your face from the humming night outside.

"all clear?" Eddie winks, hands already steadying himself on the sill.

"all clear," you sigh, and step back to watch him rather un-gracefully pull himself through and squeak out an "ow!" when he lands haphazardly on his arm. he jumps up and brushes himself off quickly, though, and leans in for a kiss that you're too slow to sideswipe, but for your hands on his chest that do nothing more but grip his shirt as he hums into it.

"don't you dare wake the kids, Eds." you pant the moment you manage to break off his lips, but your boyfriend is so undeterred that his eyes are still glinting with what can only be mischief. he pauses in between your query and his reply, his chocolate-brown gaze darting back down to your lips before he finally manages to answer you.

"wouldn't dream of it, mama."

oh, he's on that again. Eddie doesn't make his desire much of a secret, but it's still a surprise to hear him talk at length about babies and child-rearing and the like. he hasn't dropped those conversations since you started babysitting, and he certainly isn't slowing down if the hands creeping round your waist to grip your ass are anything of a tell.

"behave, Munson, before I kick you out."

"oh, you wound me, princess." he snickers, partly because your tone simply has no bite to it. "you don't wish to bear the child of your beloved knight? to make love until the dawn breaks on our kinsman's palace?" as he continues, his voice grows more dramatic and he pulls you in closer and closer, nuzzling his nose into your throat until you're giggling and pushing at him as he tickles your neck with his kisses. it's cheesy, but it's good cheesy. it's Eddie cheesy. and you can't help yourself when Eddie gets this way with you, all playful and flirty and touchy and lovey-dovey.

"maybe," you finally manage to poke him in the chest, before drawing your finger up and flicking his nose in the process. "if said knight keeps quiet, the princess will let him give it a try. in our palace." you can't even finish it without grinning, and Eddie's excitement burns brightly in those starry eyes as he breathes out a "really?" and you give him a nod back.

"shit," his breath hitches as he squeezes you close, his curls tickling your nose now as he presses you to his chest. on every inhale you get a whiff of cinammon-scented cologne, wisps of shampoo, leather and the heady tinge of sweat, all the smells that define Eddie. "I'm already stiff, honey." you can tell, quite clearly, and while you want to offer him a chance to head home and relax until you finish up....you know that he's not going anywhere. when he finally releases you from that bone-crushing hug, Eddie swoops in for another kiss before he proposes a movie and a cuddle on the couch downstairs until it comes time for the parents to come home, and for him to slip out the way he came. but the whole time he's gonna be on edge, keeping you tight and close against him, rubbing your shoulder as you snuggle up next to him and lay your head on his chest--and all he's gonna be thinking about is doing the same in your own house, where the kids sleeping upstairs will be his and yours, and he'll have all the time in the world to stroke your hair as you lay in his lap and enjoy the best thing that's ever happened to him.

#eddie munson #eddie's angelface #eddie munson x reader #st 4 #stranger things #ellie writes #anons

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partyanimal167 · 11 months

Text

Be Careful, She Bites- Nico x F! Twilight! Reader

Idk why, but I randomly got into a Gangsta. kick again, and gosh, I really miss this anime. I've read some fics on AO3 and know some people here who are in the fandom. I don't think I've ever written anything for the fandom, so I might as well try while I'm on this plane. I need to remember to add this anime to my pinned post.

I hope this is good. Thanks for reading!!!

CW: canon-typical violence, language, slightly unhinged fem reader lol

You weren't interested in being on your best behavior while trying to settle in a new town. Someone needed to make things interesting.

"You need to act right." That was the order you continued to repeat to yourself as your trailed behind your employer into a bland abandoned warehouse that could have been easily confused with the tens that surrounded it. You didn't really care what business was being carried out right now. The boss only needed you as protection which was a smart decision. The two of you were still new in town and while you had the blessings of the big heads' across the country, their protection from money alone could only do so much with the distance.

You easily ignored the lecherous stares shot your way from some low totem pole men. You continued to roll that sour hard candy in your mouth as you leaned against a stack of crates. The weather was sweltering, so you were happy you decided to don a cropped hoodie and capris. One guy kept staring, so you flicked him off. "Y/N," Damn you could never have any fun.

Negotiations were wrapping up when yelling and gun shots could be heard nearby. A window crashed from the side of the building, and two men stood casually. One had a gun out, long white blonde hair, and an eye patch. The other looked a little more rugged. He had black hair, a permanent scowl, and hand rested on the sword resting on his side.

You crunched your candy and grinned wildly. This looked like the good type of trouble to be in.

"Yoohoo, the Monroe family sends their regards." The blonde says before shooting a weaker pawn. The men instantly move to attack before other individuals join the intruders' side.

"What the fuck is going on?" the man who was talking to your boss exclaims before starting to run away.

You wanted in on the action, but you knew your priority was to get to safety. You leapt to your boss' side and started to run towards an exit.

You were cut off by that dark-haired fellow who crouched down and seemed ready to pull out that sword on you. You grinned and held out your arm in front of your boss. "I'm really in a playful mood, but I suggest you get out of my way." He didn't say anything to you, but your reflexes kicked in and tossed a knife behind him--knocking down a man who had a gun in his hand and aiming at you.

"We're not with them. Just candidates for a business relationship." the boss explained. The man didn't seem to care at all, but he looked passed you two towards his partner.

"Let them be. We don't need more work." his friend called out. In an instant, he was over by him; the light breeze passing by you.

You chuckled and continued to run off. "Hope to catch you soon!"

~~~

Your boss was adaptable if anything. That attack led to that group being absorbed and now business wanting to be done with the notorious Monroe family. You caught some of the details when your partner droned on the phone with the big bosses. You wish you paid more attention though because now you were being shuffled around a too nice-looking banquet room filled with overly dressed individuals and you in your finest pair of slacks and dress shirt. Against your better judgement, your top buttons were undone with the chain of your tags peeking at the right angle.

It was insisted that the venue and Monroes would be a safe space for your kind, but in your experience, there was no such thing. You grumbled when greeted by Daniel Monroe and properly chastised afterwards (though he didn't seem to mind much).

The only thing that kept you from running off was the arrival of those two men from before. Since the meeting, you did a little research and got quite a variety of information on the Handymen duo. They seemed like a good type of trouble to keep close for backup, and you expressed that to the boss. They seemed to agree with you for once.

The one named Worick smiled nicely to the boss and yourself--even kissing their hand. You thought the gesture to be corny yet kinda hot all the same. Your boss was not amused. Worick went on to introduce Nicolas to you. Your suspicions about your similarities were confirmed from your research, and you didn't mind peering down at the man. "Hey cuite," you chuckled. He only glared at you. You straightened up and held out your hands. No need to be mean, I don't bite. He showed more emotion with your hands being used to communicate.

"Stop being a brat. Yes you do." your boss scolded. They turned their attention back to Worick. "Excuse her, if I give her an inch, she takes a mile. Can never be to cautious."

That seemed to be enough for a laugh. "Well that's what makes working with our partners so exciting."

~~~

Nicolas knew trouble miles away, and you were trouble. He didn't often come across Twilights that were similar in strength to him, and he didn't need to see your tags to know.

He had been trailing your duo for a few hours at the request of Cristiano family who knew that you were from some distant family of powerful people. They just wanted to make sure you weren't trying to upset the city's power balance. It was boring work truthfully, but there were perks to being quiet and knowing how to hide.

Right now, the two of you were in some shitty restaurant, so Nicolas sat in a narrow alley bored. There were probably a lot of things going on during this busy time of day that he couldn't hear or cared to.

However a whoosh passed his face could definitely be felt.

He looked up to see your form standing at the alley entrance and turned to see one of your knifes stuck in the brick wall a few feet away. He reached out for his sword.

"Wow wow," you held out your hands in defense, "no need to get all violent on me." You laughed. "Can't I play with you a bit? After all, you've been on my ass all day."

Nicolas shouldn't be too surprised hearing that you knew he was lurking. He grunted and relaxed slightly on his crate. He glared at you.

"Shame we're on the same side right now," you leaned against a wall, "I wanna know how look in a fight. You one of those pill poppers?"

He knew what you were suggesting. Nicolas grunted. We all pop pills. Gonna die either way.

You grinned then shrugged. "Got a point there." You walked towards him. Nicolas was ready for an attack, but you passed him to retrieve your knife. "So what fun is there to do in this godforsaken city?"

There is no fun for us. We're here to kill and follow orders.

You sighed and rolled your eyes. "What a killjoy." you still had a mischievous look in your eyes. Nicolas didn't jerk away when you reached out your hand and cupped his chin. You ran a thumb across the bottom of his lip and licked your own. "Lucky for you, I still think we can show each other a good time. There's always that at least." you grinned madly when your thumb entered the man's mouth and was held tightly between his teeth.

"Be careful. I bite too."

~~~

I miss this show/manga so much!!! I hope Kohske is doing okay. Her wellbeing is more important.

I liked writing for this fandom. The world is such an interesting setting and how things work in it. Maybe I'll try some more later.

Thank you for reading!!!

#gangsta #gangsta fanfiction #nicolas brown #nico brown #benriya #gangsta manga #gangtsa x reader #nicolas x reader #black fem reader #twilight reader #mine #stewie writes #partyanimal167

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themarginalthinker · 6 months

Text

Little Talks

(prompt from @roseate-lagomorph, for my two Nosferatu ocs Jen and Fen! Conversations in the dark, about many things unspoken of.)

Jen watches the curl of smoke drift upwards into the darkness of the tunnel.

He was alone, among the 'front lawn' of his haven. The tiled walls and flooring - not done by his own hands. He was a craftsman, but not for the pretty and aesthetically pleasing in the world. The star-burst patterns in mosaic the swirled around each other in van Gohg dizziness had been placed by hands that still saw use for the beauty.

Mm. Jen huffs out the last of his grey, nicotine-laden breath in one go. The menthol is the only real sensation he actually feels from it, tingling at his lips and throat. The actual drug in the tobacco having long since lost any effect on his dead system, when not laced into and metabolized in blood.

Jen flicks the used butt of the cigarette away, landing perfectly in the metal coffee can that was a constant presence outside the door. He reaches into his pocket, pulling out the little paper carton for another. They may not actually do anything for him anymore, but a habit is a habit.

"Three in a row. What's sticking the gears tonight?"

Jen's face is tensing, growling before he even looks up to the voice. The old voyeur.

"Fuck off," he hisses, sticking the new cigarette in his mouth, but not lighting up right away.

From the darkness down the way, melting out of the shadows and the twisted nets of internet and electrical wires that lead into their haven (one of the youngers had set all that up - Jen wouldn't touch any of it with a ten foot pole, thanks) came a body. Long, lacking the body fat that many of their clan did with the Rot having stolen it from them, teeth like tusks sticking out at odd angles as he smiled that stupid grin.

Fenster comes to stand before Jen, hands in his pockets looking for all the world like the bastard belonged there.

Jen stares at him head-on as he flicks the clicker of the lighter, the flare of golden light dancing in shadows across their faces. Fen doesn't flinch. He's been with Jen too long for a mere lighter flame to startle his Beast.

The cherry of the cigarette glows as Jen starts it with an inhale, and keeps staring at Fen.

"Four."

"Fuck off, where were you," asks Jen, redirecting the point away from his chain smoking.

Fen leans against the wall, the colorful mosaic. His sleepy-eyed smirk is as infuriating as it is impossible with his teeth, but he somehow always manages. Jen pretends he doesn't see it.

"Out."

"Out where."

"What are you, my mother? It's past ten o'clock, but none of us know where our kids are."

Jen moves to stand, (to do what, he's not really sure, but like hell is he going to stand here listening to the fool fool at him) but Fen's too quick. Like a shadows slipping through water, Jen suddenly finds himself pushed back against the wall, a body thinner than his but taller, enough to keep him still, standing over him.

Those long, protruding teeth are near his ear, a hushed whisper.

"Calm down. It wasn't anything big, just...some assholes who needed a reminder that even if they can't see us, that block belongs to us."

Jen breathes. A clear breath, free of smoke. Fen is so close, he can smell him instead. The faint traces of paint chips, the constant, lingering scent of the Mesh, and something...unique. All himself.

Fen can feel Jen's shoulders relax under his hands.

"Am I gonna get word about it later?" Jen asks.

Fen shrugs. "Maybe. Not really a clan thing, just something I thought I'd take care of."

Jen rolls his eyes. "I'm sure he'll have a field day when he finds out."

Fen clicks his tongue in something one who didn't know him would almost call sympathy. "Been on your ass?"

"Alfred wants three new levels. All individual chambers."

Fen pulls back, and together, the pair makes to sit on the little bench just outside the door, where Jen had been earlier.

"Is he...you know. Finally giving into the idea of..?"

Jen remembers his vice, and takes another, much longer drag of smoke. He lets it linger inside for a while, curling blackly around his dead lungs. No feeling. Using the action as a distraction.

Fen waits.

"I don't know," Jen eventually says. "I don't ask. I just do."

He's the only one who really can. Rotschreck at the sight of a welding torch and beam cutter would send any work team into a frenzied pack. But not him. And because of that, the old codger kept him close. Always expanding. Always building something. Jen's always been a good worker.

Fen must notice his silence, because clawed hands come to rest on the one not holding the cigarette.

"Maybe it's not what we think."

Maybe. Maybe those little metal boxes aren't being made with the intent Jen knows they are.

He doesn't know. He won't ask. They'll see in the end, he supposes.

"Could I have one?" Fen asks.

Jen hums in assent, and starts to reach for the carton in his pocket, but before he can, the lit cigarette is plucked from his mouth, and being drawn on by Fen. Jen blinks, and watches.

Jen raises an eyebrow at this display.

Fen grins.

"Want a better distraction?"

The night is long. Work is never far from the door.

"Might as well," Jen says, with his own small smile.

#vtm #vampire the masquerade #this warren #Jen Montgomery #Fenster Weiss #clan nosferatu #drabbles

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sweetyyhippyy · 2 years

Text

Flattery Works. Eddie Munson x Fem! Reader. *SMUT*

*NOT MY GIF*

SUMMARY: Eddie gets asked to supply weed for a party. They smoke together, get to talking and the after effect turns hot.

TW: DO NOT INTERACT IF YOU ARE NOT 18+! Smoking weed, mentions of body insecurity throughout, pet names throughout (sweetheart, baby, princess, angel, good girl, daddy), oral sex (fem receiving), biting, a whole lot of dirty talk, unprotected sex (because I’m a whore… I’m sorry), choking, spanking, a little bit of possessiveness?, creampie (because once again… I’m a whore), praising.

WORD COUNT: 5.4K

A.N. This is my first time writing for Eddie! I really hope anyone who reads this, likes it!!

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

It was already 20 minutes past when he said he would be at her place to drop off the weed she asked him to bring over. The only thing her friends asked her to bring to the kickback they were having.

She sighed heavily, knowing she would have to resort to asking creepy ass Reefer Rick for the hookup, which also meant having to pay almost double what Munson charged, plus she knew she was going to have to slap his hands off some part of her body.

She grabbed her purse, walking to the front door, her heels clacking against the hardwood floor from her bedroom to the front area. Just as soon as she opens the door, she’s greeted by Eddie, his hand balled up in a fist getting ready to knock on her door.

He has a cute little smile on his face when he sees her. Trying everything to not look at her body that was on display.

“Jesus you scared me.”

“I know I’m late, but I’m here. I got what you asked for.” Eddie says, walking straight into her apartment with his little metal lunch box in hand.

She shuts the door behind him, following him to the couch as he sets the lunchbox down on the ottoman, opening it up to different small bags inside.

“Mexican sativa. You and all your girlfriends zenned out for the night, but still lively to party.” Completing the sentence with a little shimmy.

She can’t help but laugh, taking the bag from him. “Thanks Munson. What do I owe you?”

“For you, since you’re so pretty, $30. Plus, I’ll throw this one in just for you later.”

Maybe Eddie was laying it on a little thick, but damn she really was pretty, somehow even prettier than normal with her hair and makeup done to perfection, and the tight little red and black dress she was wearing that really showed off how truly beautiful her figure was that she liked to hide as much as possible.

“Thanks, Eddie.” She smirks, handing him the money from her purse. “You uh, you want to stay back and actually smoke this with me? I’m not going to lie, I’m god awful at rolling. Tragic really.”

Eddie smiles and takes the bag back from her, getting to work packing them a blunt to share. “So where’s the big party for the night?”

“My friend Katie’s house. It’s just going to be us girls. At least that’s what I hope.” She sighs, leaning back on her couch next to Eddie. “See if Jessica doesn’t show up with her dipshit boyfriend like last time.”

“She’s still with that guy?” Eddie laughs, bringing the paper packed with weed up to his mouth, licking the paper to make sure it’s sealed fully.

She half zoned out watching Eddie lick the paper, somehow her thoughts going straight to a dirty place. “Uh, yeah unfortunately. Even though he’s fucked every girl in Hawkins by now.”

“Oh yeah? You too?” He says with a wide smile on his face, knowing exactly what he was doing.

“Eddie Munson! Asking about my sex life.” She laughs. “And no, not me. I wouldn’t let that creep touch me with a ten foot pole.”

Eddie grabs his lighter from his jacket pocket, flicking it on and lighting the other end of the blunt, handing it over to her. “Ladies first.”

“Such the gentleman.” She teases, taking a baby hit to start out with.

“Oh come on, princess!” Eddie laughs as she exhales the smoke slowly. “You can do better than that.”

“Fuck off, Munson. I’m pacing myself.” She teases back, trying not to think of the nickname he just called her.

“Aww, pretty girl can’t handle her weed?”

Almost just to prove a point she takes a bigger hit, blowing the smoke back in his face with a smile afterward. “Actually, pretty girl can handle her weed, thank you.”

***

Eddie and her had been laughing their asses off for the past 20 minutes at some stupid story she was telling him; light touches on his arm, and brushes against her thigh.

Each touch made her body vibrate. Smoking already made her a hornball, but adding Eddie into the mix, someone she had secretly thought about letting do unspeakable and sinful things to her.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“About?” Eddie asks.

“You ever accept certain favors as payment?”

“What like chores?” He knew exactly what she was talking about, but part of him wanted her to say it, almost as if hearing her say the dirty words made it just that much hotter.

She rolls her eyes playfully, shaking her head. “No. Like… sexual favors.”

“Oh! That’s what you meant.” He teases with a shit eating grin. “You know, I can honestly say I haven’t.”

“You don’t get ass?” She turned blunt when she was high.

“Uh, I mean… I… I think I do.” He stammered through his response.

Eddie would be half dumb and half stupid to say she wasn’t cute. He had known her for a few years through her older brother, one of the guys he played D&D with before he started Hellfire club. Eddie would come to the house every now and again, obviously seeing her, interacting once and a while. Now that she was an adult, he felt less creepy admitting she was cute.

“I’m doing everything except spelling it out for you, Munson. Get there faster please.” She laughs, taking another hit.

“Wha-what are you talking about?”

“Eddie.” She sighs, shifting in her seat to get closer to him. “I’m hinting that I want you to fuck me.”

“Oh.” He says with wide eyes. “Why?”

Fucking Eddie.

“What do you mean why? I’m horny, I think you’re hot. Hell, I’ve thought you were hot since my freshman year. Just couldn’t act on it since you and my brother were friends.”

“You really want me to?” He asks, trying to mask the excitement he has in his tone.

“I do. Is that so hard to believe?”

“When you look like that… yeah kinda.” Eddie shrugs, his eyes scanning her up and down, committing her whole being to his spank bank for later.

“Look like that? What do you mean exactly?” In the back of her mind she knew the outfit wasn’t a good idea, she knew it “didn’t belong” on her body, that it “showed off too much of her body”. She got an earful about how “nobody wants to see your body” from stupid Jason Carver in 11th grade in front of half of the school.

Eddie’s doe eyes widened, knowing that what he really meant didn’t translate well. “No, no, no baby. Not like that. You are a fucking knockout. It’s just hard to believe that someone as pretty as you, would want anything to do with a guy like me.”

“I want a lot to do with you actually.” She smiles, shifting on the couch, opening her legs slightly, just enough to make the hem of the dress rise up to her mid thigh.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Eddie mutters under his breath, eyes glued to her thighs. He needed to feel if they were as soft as they looked.

“You are more than free to touch me, you know. Usually I’m not one for taking control so I was kinda hoping you would.” All the confidence the weed had given her 5 minutes ago was completely out the window, but the one thing that wasn’t thrown out the window was that she was beyond desperate and wanted Eddie more than anything.

Eddie took one more long drag from the blunt and blew the smoke out, motioning for her to come closer to him.

She climbs into his lap, straddling him right away. “Hi.” She giggles, touching the jacket on his body.

“Hey, princess.” He responds, his voice already deep and husky. “You’re sure about this? You’ll be known for fucking the freak.”

She snakes her hands up to his long waves, locking her fingers in his thick hair at the base of his head. “Maybe I don’t care about that. ‘Sides, you being a freak might work in my favor.”

“Fuck, I’m in trouble with you.” Eddie mutters before pulling her closer to his body, kissing her lips finally. He squeezes her hips, wanting to feel every inch of her body.

She knew he had to feel the heartbeat between her legs the more she pressed herself against his lap, trying not to grind against him but finding it almost impossible not to move just a little.

The second he feels her grind against his lap, Eddie groans in her mouth, licking at her bottom lip to encourage her to open her mouth so he can play with her tongue.

She smiles into the kiss, opening her mouth slightly finally, moaning as she feels Eddie swipe the tip of his tongue against hers.

They stayed in that position for a while, getting lost in each other. Eddie’s rings touch up her thighs, pushing the hem of her dress up over her ass, his hands massaging her ass.

Her whole body shivered feeling the cold rings on her warm skin. She was the first one to pull back from their kiss, her heart beating out of her chest. “Unzip me in the back.”

Eddie’s slender fingers go up her dress, unzipping her quickly, helping her slide the straps down her shoulders. “Holy shit.” He mutters, his doe eyes glued to her bare chest now exposed to him.

She takes his hand and rests it on her stomach, guiding him by his wrist up the rest of her torso to one of her boobs, leaving it there.

His rings once again make her shutter as one of them brush across her nipple, making the nub grow hard. “You know how god damn beautiful your body is, sweetheart? Like a fucking goddess.”

She wasn’t used to body praise, especially during sex, but seeing how Eddie looked at her naked torso, the part of her body she was so insecure about, it made her ache for him more and only encouraged her to keep going. “It’s not fair I’m almost fully naked and you’re not. We need to change that.” She climbs off his lap, sliding out of the rest of her dress and stepping out.

“No… no fucking panties.” He whispers to himself even though she could still hear him.

“Want to take this to the bedroom?” She asks, putting her hand out to take his.

Eddie nods his head, snapping out of his trance, letting her help him off the couch and guide him to the back of her apartment to her room.

It wasn’t until they reached her room that he noticed she was somehow eye level with him. She was always much shorter than he was. His gaze went down her body until he noticed the high heels still on her. “Baby, fuck.” He almost whines.

She turns in confusion as they walk into her room, flicking the lights on. “What?”

Eddie was quickly shedding his jeans and leather jacket off his body, letting them fall where they may. In an instant he was completely naked as well, grabbing her by her face and kissing her again roughly. “All you have on are those fucking heels, you’re going to be the death of me. Bed, now.”

She smirked at him while she crawls up her bed, laying in the middle waiting for Eddie.

He follows her up the bed, spreading her legs apart using his body, his hands gripping her thighs. “Open your mouth sweetheart.”

She opens her mouth, automatically sticking her tongue out.

Eddie slides his middle and ring finger into her mouth, a devilish smile plastered on his face. “That’s it, princess. Soak ‘em up.” His eyes burned holes into her the deeper she took his ring clad fingers down her mouth.

She lightly gags on his fingers, pulling her head back, releasing his fingers with a string of spit following. A low, pleasurable hum fills the room when Eddie swipes this thumb across her lip to break the spit string.

“Want me to touch you here?” Eddie asks, teasing her entrance with his soaked fingers.

Her body chases his fingers, wanting him to just dive in. “Yes, god please touch me.”

His two fingers push in slowly, stretching her out.

She whines borderline pathetically, rolling her eyes to the back of her head. “Fuck.”

“Keep going, princess? You going to feel full with just my fingers?”

Her eyes were soft, reading desperate as she stared back at his own eyes. “Yes, keep stretching me out.”

Eddie lays on the bed next to her, his fingers still inside her. “You going to be a good girl and cum for me?”

She nods her head frantically, biting her lip.

His fingers slowly draw in and out, drawing out obscene wet noises. He takes his thumb and swipes it sideways against her clit, he remembered reading an article in Playboy, yes read that it was much more pleasurable for a woman’s clit to be played with from the side than just in a plain circle.

“Oh fuck, Eddie!” She gasps, grabbing his forearm.

Eddie’s cock was painfully hard, fighting the urge to rub himself up against her thigh. With his other hand, he slowly travels up her body, to her face, cupping it in his hand while he turns her face toward his. “Damn, you are so beautiful, baby.” With the tip of his tongue, he licks her bottom lip before kissing her hungrily.

Her moans vibrated against his lips the quicker he fingered and rubbed her clit. When she was high, all of her senses were hightened, especially when she was having sex while high. Everything was more intense. Slowly, she felt the tingling feeling creep up her entire body.

There was no way she was already about to cum. Nobody had ever made her cum during sex, but she could never even make herself cum this quickly.

She whines again as she pulls away from their kiss, digging her nails into his arm. “Eddie, I wanna cum.”

“Yeah, cum on my fingers princess. You know I wanna taste how good it tastes after.” He doesn’t change a thing about the way he’s touching her; the pace, pressure, nothing. “Come on angel, cum for me.” He whispers in her ear. “Show daddy you can be a good girl.”

She didn’t know what sent her over the edge, the fact he called himself daddy, the fact that she did want to be a good girl for him, or hearing his voice in her ear. Her whole body shook as she rides the waves of her orgasm out, crying into Eddie’s shoulder, gripping onto him.

“That’s it, baby.” Eddie coos in her ear, pressing kisses to her collar bone. “You did so good for me.”

She nods her head, nuzzling into him for comfort.

Slowly Eddie took his fingers out from her still contracting entrance, his wet fingers grazing her thighs, trying to give her a chance to calm down. “Can I give you a taste?” He asks, kissing her cheek.

“Yes.” She mutters out, still trying to regain her composure.

Eddie picks his head and presses a quick kiss to her lips before working his kisses down the middle of her chest, licking both her nipples before kissing down her stomach, spending extra time there just to show her that he was in love with her body. He slid his body down her bed, resting his wild head of hair between her thighs. His tongue licks up and down both her thighs before biting the skin just to tease her.

She giggles at the small pinch, slightly clenching her legs together.

Eddie wraps both his arms up around her thighs, keeping her legs spread, wasting no time parting her lips with his tongue, kissing her clit before flicking it with his tongue.

She figured out why he had wrapped his arms around her thighs the way he did, that way when he did something that would normally make her clench her thighs, she couldn’t. Her fingers make their way to his long hair, combing them through his hair until she had the dark mane tangled in her fingers.

It was the way he moaned against her while he sucked on her clit that really did it for her. There was nothing hotter than a man who got hot and bothered from eating pussy.

Her clit was still beyond sensitive, only making it harder to keep her legs spread open. “You’re so good at using your tongue, daddy.” She whispers, deciding to use the name he anointed himself. “You going to make me cum again? All on your tongue this time?”

Eddie nodded his head in response to her question, his dark eyes looking up at her while he continued to eat her out.

“You know you look so good between my legs? You know I’ve thought so much about how fucking hot you would look eating me out?”

Unbeknownst to her, Eddie was finally relieving some of the pent up pressure of his cock, moving his hips against her mattress. Her dirty talking to him only made him want to move quicker, but he didn’t want to blow his load before he got a chance to actually be buried deep inside her.

He let one of her legs go, using his fingers to dive back into her entrance, fingering her again.

She rolled her head to the side feeling full again, letting a long sigh out as she got readjusted to his fingers.

She tasted like a mix between heaven and the sweetest fruit on earth, especially the more wet she got, and there was no way he was going to stop before she exploded all over his face. Hell, at this point, he didn’t care if he drowned. It would be a hell of a way to go.

Little muffles, whines and whimpers started coming from her the sloppier his tongue movements got.

Eddie could see, what he could only assume was a mix of his saliva and her juices creating a dark patch on the sheet under her.

“I need to cum! I need to cum again! Eddie!” Her fingers started to pull at his hair.

The harder she pulled, the quicker he sucked on her clit, licking it here and there just to make her jump.

Tears started to sting her eyes as he fucked his fingers into her harder, trying to hold on for just a little while longer.

She didn’t know what Eddie was doing to her that she felt the overwhelming urge to cum so quickly, he knew exactly how to read her body’s needs, even though it was their first time together.

It hit her like a truck, Eddie still not letting up on his rhythm or pace as she shook again.

Tears started to roll down her cheek as she shut her eyes tightly. She cried Eddie’s name over and over, pressing his face into her pussy further as she tried to roll all over the bed, only to be stopped by Eddie’s grip.

Eddie stared at her through her orgasm, his cock throbbing at the sight of her nipples growing hard and the tears falling from her face. Finally he decided to pull away from her, giving each one of her thighs another kiss before sitting up onto his knees.

She grabbed for any part of him she could grab, needing his closeness again, especially now that he had brought her to tears from cumming so hard. Finally she finds his hand, grabbing it to help sit herself up onto her butt. “I need you.”

“Need me where, princess?” Eddie asks, pressing a kiss to her wrist.

“You fucking me. Please, Eddie.” Her voice was desperate, tear stains on her cheeks.

“Yeah, my baby. On your hands and knees first.”

She obeyed him, quickly getting onto her knees, her torso laying flat on the mattress.

“Here, lift your head.” Eddie says, grabbing one of her decorative pillows and placing it under her head.

The sweet gesture made her heart swell.

It wasn’t until now that Eddie noticed a crescent moon tattoo on her lower back, little star shapes scattered along her lower back, the sight of the tattoo making his cock jump. He grips the base of his cock, slapping it against her ass.

She wiggles her ass at the feeling, giggling at the anticipation of finally having Eddie Munson inside of her.

“Fuck, I’m an idiot.” Eddie murmurs, rolling his eyes in annoyance.

“What happened?” She turns her head, looking back at him with concern, part of her thinking that maybe he was coming to his senses and was regretting the decision to fuck her.

“I don’t have a fucking rubber.”

“It’s okay. Birth control is a hell of a thing.” She smirks.

Eddie drags his tip up and down her wetness, making his tip wet with her cum. He slowly pushes himself inside, both of them gasping as he bottoms her out. “So fucking perfect.” Once Eddie found a rhythm both of you were happy with, one of his hands wrap around her neck, his fingers applying pressure on the side of her neck.

“Oh fuck!” She whines, shutting her eyes at the feeling. “Harder.”

With his other hand he grabs a bundle of her hair, bringing her up to be pressed up against his chest. “Yeah, princess? You think you can handle me fucking you harder?” He growls in her ear, applying just a bit more pressure to her throat.

“Yes, daddy. I can take it.”

“Look at me.”

She turns to look at how beautiful Eddie was, his big brown eyes glued on her while his mouth was slightly opened with low grunts coming out. His skin was flushed from all the effort he was exerting.

Their skin slapping together only coaxed him to fuck her harder.

“Who would have thought you can take cock so well? You look so sweet and innocent, but only I know how much of a cock slut you are.”

She whimpers in response, not able to form a coherent sentence, or even a single word for that matter.

“Tell me, sweetheart: how long have you had fantasies about me being balls deep inside this perfect pussy?”

“A-a few years.” She shakes out, sinking her nails into his pale thigh.

“More specific, princess.” He sings, tapping her clit with his hands.

She whines loudly, almost crying. “Do you remember the night, fuck, my parents invited you over for dinner and you spent the night? We accidentally bumped into each other after your shower. I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

Eddie laughs in her ear, nipping at the skin under her lobe. “What, you were only 16 right? Being so young thinking such sinful thoughts about me. What a naughty fucking girl. Don’t you think so?”

All she can do is moan, Eddie was fucking her stupid.

Eddie roughly throws her back into her bed, his cock slipping out of her quickly.

She lands with a slight bounce, whining at the loss of feeling full.

A loud smack, followed by a stinging burn on her ass makes her whole body tense. Two more smacks on each side, the rings really adding a whole different sensation. She clenched around nothing at the feeling of the lingering sting.

“I asked you a question.” Eddie grumbles in her ear. “If you want me to fuck you, you’re going to need to use your words and answer me when I speak, do you understand?”

Before she can answer, he strikes her one more time, grabbing her and flipping her onto her back.

“Yes, daddy I understand!” She says quickly, giving him her soft babydoll eyes.

Eddie spreads her legs back open, taking his middle finger and drags it up her slit, licking it. “You want me to keep going?”

“Yes, daddy.”

He settles back between her legs, once again rubbing his cock against her lips before pushing himself back in. As much as he wanted to keep his dominant, mean composure up, he could feel it slipping with each thrust.

She grabs him by his shoulders, bringing him to be chest to chest with her, needing to be close to him.

Eddie presses a kiss to her forehead. “God I can’t wait to make you cum again, princess.”

“Yes, please! Again!”

Eddie reaches down to rub her clit, determined to get her to cum one more time. “I’m going to make you cum around my cock, princess. Wanna feel you get even tighter around this fucking cock.”

She nods her head, biting down on her nail. “Please. Wanna cum again.” Her voice was shaky and hoarse. She couldn’t help but roll her hips, meeting his sharp, deep thrusts. “You’re so good, daddy! So good at fucking my pussy.”

“You’re going to make me addicted to this pussy. Don’t know how I’m going to get anything better than this.” Eddie grunts before licking circles around one of her nipples, taking the nub between his teeth and lightly biting down on it. The way he flicked his tongue at her nipple was similar to the way he played with her clit earlier.

She gripped her fingers through his messy, damp hair, wanting him to stay sucking on her nipple. She could hear her moans and cries become almost nonexistent the longer their scene went on. “Eddie, you feel it? I’m so close.”

Eddie’s head snaps up from her chest, sitting up onto his knees. He takes both of her legs, resting them on his shoulders. “Oh, fuck baby. Feel how deep I am?”

“Yes! So deep! So good! Please! Don’t stop!”

“Oh trust me baby, I’m not going to stop. Never going to stop fucking this pussy.” He whispers, hitting her pussy deeper than he could have imagined. “Tell me, ever had anyone else fuck this pussy this good?”

“No! No! Only you, daddy! Only you!” She was openly screaming at this point, not caring that the whole floor she lived on, or the poor old man living directly under her could hear her getting fucked into a different world.

“This is my pussy, baby. Yeah? This pussy belongs to me.” Eddie was losing it at this point, as much as he tried to shield it, she could see him struggling to hold his orgasm back.

“Yours. All yours. I’m all yours.”

“Yeah? My girl?”

She didn’t even have a chance to answer before she hit her climax, her body stiffening like a board at first. “Y-yesss! I’m your girl, Eddie! Eddie!” She cried his name, literally. Tears flooded down her face as she shook, sobs coming from deep inside her chest.

Eddie slowly stopped playing with her clit to avoid overstimulating her. Watching her look at him with tears rolling down her face made him weak. “That’s my girl. So good, baby.” Eddie coos, pressing sweet, loving kisses to her forehead. “You think you can finish taking my cock? That way daddy can cum?”

She knew she couldn’t answer him with words, her brain far too fuzzy. All she could do was nod her head, mouthing “yes” although no sound came out.

Eddie didn’t stop his rhythm at all, it felt too good to do anything but rough fucking her.

“Eddie!” She whispers, although she really meant to scream his name. She sank her teeth into his shoulder, undoubtedly leaving him a bruise.

“Fuck, baby. Take it.” He whispers in her ear. Eddie had the internal battle whether or not he wanted to pump her full of her cum, or if he had the strength to pull out of her pussy. His body didn’t give him anymore time to think before he came deep inside her, buried deep inside her.

Eddie couldn’t help grunt her name out over and over, his forehead pressed to her shoulder as he shot the last bit of his cum in her. “You are unbelievable. Holy shit.” Eddie exhales, gripping the base of his cock as he slowly pulls out, making both of them sigh heavily.

She whines at the feeling of being empty, pulling him back to her. “Again.” She pouts, flashing him her big eyes again.

“Baby, I’m spent. You came for me 3 times, you gotta rest.”

She shook her head, almost on the brink of tears again. “Again please! You’re so good, I’ve never came like that before, I need more.”

Eddie smirks, laying on his side while he cuddles next to her, spreading her legs apart. “You’re lucky flattery works with me. Tell me you can handle one more and I’ll make you cum one more time.” His fingers playing with her swollen and sticky lips.

“I-I can take it! Please daddy. Wanna cum again.” Her voice was so small and delicate as she begged.

Eddie takes his two fingers, gathering up the mix of both of their cum and spreading it around her clit.

She shutters feeling him touch her beyond sensitive clit, but she was completely drunk off his touch, and she needed just to cum one more time to feel complete. “Fuck, baby.” Her head drops to the side, exposing her neck to him.

Eddie growls into her neck as he peppers the skin with opened mouth kisses. “My girl.” His fingers continue to draw lazy circles on her clit.

She rolls her hips, needy for more of Eddie. “Don’t stop please.”

“Trust me, princess, I couldn't stop even if I wanted to. Come here.”

They lazily make out with each other, both of their tongues everywhere, and both of them moaning in each other’s mouth.

The familiar tingle inside her starts to build, and all control of her body was gone.

“Eddie! Cum!” She wraps her hand around his wrist, trying to move his hand to make him go faster.

“Give me one last one, baby. You’re so close. Think about how good it’s going to feel, cumming 4 times for me.” He continues to press kisses to her neck, which brings her over the edge.

She cries out loudly, her back lifting off the bed, her heels digging into the mattress.

“That’s my girl.” Eddie says, kissing her cheek. “Such a good girl.” His spare hand reaches out, wiping her tears away that were running down her cheeks. He stopped massaging her clit once she lowered herself back onto the bed, his hands going down to her inner thigh to massage.

She cried once she came back to earth, burying her face in Eddie’s chest, needing his comfort.

Eddie wraps both of his arms around her body, squeezing her tight so she knew he was there and wasn’t going anywhere. “You did so good, baby. So proud of you.” He whispers in her ear.

She nods her head, still feeling sensitive and completely fucked out. “ ‘M tired.” She mumbles.

“Yeah, you did a lot, baby. Safe to say you’re not going to your little party?”

She chuckles, picking her head up from Eddie’s sweaty body. Her hair was deflated, the crimps she once had completely sweated out, the black eyeliner and mascara bleeding down her face. “No, definitely not. I kinda would rather stay with you in bed.”

Eddie smiles and leans up to press a kiss to her lips. “So you’re inviting me to stay?” He asks with a wide smile.

“Oh, you’re never leaving again.” She laughs. “You gave me the best fuck of my entire life, you’re stuck with me.”

“You know, somehow that’s really not a threat to me. Maybe I don’t have any problem sticking around. Maybe… I dunno… maybe I wanna…” He stutters through his words, looking away from her.

“Maybe you wanna…” She tries to coax it out of him.

“Take you out places. Like dates and stuff. Boyfriend and girlfriend shit.”

She tries to hide the smile on her face at the sound of going on dates and doing relationship type things with Eddie.

“I dunno, it’s dumb.” Eddie sighs.

“No no no, baby it’s not!” She says quickly, touching his face with her fingertips, liking how the slight stubble felt between her fingers. “I like the idea of doing that stuff with you.”

Eddie’s sweet eyes look up at her, a smile spread across his face. “Yeah? Alright well, maybe we can do something in the morning. Granted you’re able to walk in the morning.” He chuckles.

“It’s a date.”

#Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson smut #Eddie Munson fic #Eddie Munson x fem!reader #Eddie Munsonxreader

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readyforthegarden · 1 year

Text

Step into Christmas - S.F.K.

AN: I didn’t mean to make this as angsty as it did, but I promise there’s a happy sappy holiday ending!! I was going through it when I wrote this and Sam is my comfort gvf guy so... ya know.

Warnings: angst, mentions of loss of loved ones, and dealing with the emotions of the holidays

WC: 2991

Danny’s Holiday Fic // Josh’s Holiday Fic // Jake’s Holiday Fic

"Oh! Look at these little trees! They'd look so cute on your mantle!" you squealed, grabbing the small box set of three flocked and glittered mini pine trees from the shelf in front of you. You looked them over and turned to Sam, who was leaning against the handle bar of the shopping cart, looking less than enthused. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, babe," he assured with a sigh, flicking the shimmery tinsel in front of him with a bored expression on his face. "I'm ready to be home, all the different, bright colors are starting to hurt my eyes."

"Oh, yeah, we have been out for a while, huh?" you smiled at him tenderly, placing the trees in the cart and moving to stand next to him as he pushed the cart towards the checkouts. "Do you want to stop and get something to eat on the way home?"

"Sure." Sam shrugged noncommittally. You popped up onto your tiptoes, pressing a quick, chaste kiss to his cheek as you waited in line to checkout with all your new decorations. You spoke with the cashier as they rang up your items, gushing over the cute outdoor light ups you'd picked out. Once you had paid, Sam helped you load your car up with and he drove it back to his house, letting you be the passenger princess and play Christmas music on the radio.

You could feel the air shifting more and more, a feeling of anxiety bubbling up in you as Sam stayed quiet on the ride home. You chalked it up to the fact the two of you not having eaten much that day, but even after stopping for a quick bite at a vegetarian restaurant, the feeling persisted. You took a few silent, deep breaths, calming your own nerves. Sometimes Sam was just quiet, and you knew he loved you more than the breath in his lungs, as he would profess in your mirror as you brushed your teeth or did your hair nearly every morning.

"Okay, I'm going to start putting stuff up and away." you told him softly once things were brought inside. Sam nodded, giving you a soft smile.

"Do you want any help?" he offered. You could see in his eyes he was only offering to be nice. You shook your head, wrapping your arms around his waist and looking up at him.

“Go do your thing, I’m gonna make the North Pole look like the dollar store.” Sam pressed a kiss to your forehead with a slight roll of his eyes. He patted your bottom gently as you moved away to the living room, picking up a bag that had some new ornaments in it and skipping to the tree, cooing happily at Rosie as she followed you, tail wagging.

Sam tried to ignore the soft beat to your cheerful music downstairs, but he'd already had enough of the holiday. You had been so adamant since Thanksgiving about decorating, always detouring to the decorations aisles at the stores and showing him every glittery bauble. It was bad enough the holiday was so commercialized, but now it felt like it was being shoved down his throat before he was ready to admit the year was almost over. He sighed, closing the book he was trying to read and decided to go grab a snack, chalking his irritableness up to being hungry again.

As he made his way down the stairs, he became more irritated at the boxes that were strewn about, and as he ruminated over the mess you'd made in his home, he tripped over one of the small light up reindeer you had taken out, stepping on the prongs and inhaling sharply. His hand slammed against the wall with a thwacking noise as he reached out to balance himself, startling you and Rosie.

"Sam?" you came around the corner, eyes wide in fear at what you might find. "Are you okay?!" Sam sighed and nodded silently as he waited for the pain in his foot to subside.

"We're done decorating for christmas, okay? We're done." he shook his head now, sending you a look."

"Oh. Okay, I'm sorry, I was going to move those in a few minutes. I didn't think you'd come back downstairs so soon."

"It's whatever. Just clean this stupid stuff up. I didn't even want any of it." you felt a small pang in your chest.

"Oh, I thought you liked my decorating for Christmas. You were fine going to the stores to get it with me."

"I just don't understand why all of this stupid crap means so much to you! All we need is a tree, and some lights, not all of this shit!" Sam snapped and waved his arms around his living room exasperatedly. Your heart cracked, all of the work you'd put into the decorating felt wasted within an instant. Tears welled in your eyes and you tried to blink them away, as regret and shame crossed Sam's face as he realized how he snapped. You set down the small, plushie gnome you had been placing on the top of his piano to keep it out of Rosie's strong jaw, moving away from it and him and picking up your keys. "Baby, please, I'm sorry."

"I'm just gonna go home, okay? I think we need some space. I'll come get all of this crap out later." you moved around his arms as he tried to stop you from leaving. You got into your car and didn't bother adjusting the seat, stretching your legs slightly to reach the pedals and backing out of his driveway, and going to your own apartment.

You had already set up a little light up tree in your living room, leaving it on while you were gone and felt a little bit better once you saw it's glow in the winter mid-afternoon dusk.

You laid on your couch, fighting back the tears. All you wanted to do was have a perfect first Christmas with Sam, and now it felt like it was all ruined. You finally let all the feelings you'd been keeping at bay flood in, missing your family and wishing that they were still there with you. You turned your face into the couch pillow and let the tears flow.

🎄🎄🎄

“Hey I need your help.” Sam sighed as soon as his older brother picked up the phone. Jake raised an eyebrow. “I fucked up with Y/N.” Jake sighed, running a hand over his face.

“What happened?” Sam explained all of the things that had happened the past few days, the decorating, the music, the movies and shows. Jake listened patiently, and when Sam was done, he took a deep breath. “Sam, you realize this is her first Christmas, he favorite holiday, without her family, right? Her parents are gone, she doesn’t have any siblings. She’s probably trying to fill a void and not make you worry at the same time.”

“Shit.” Sam swallowed, a pit in his stomach. “I didn’t even realize…I’m awful. I fucked up, big time.”

“Yeah, you really did.” Jake’s jaw was sent, disappointment in his brother evident. You’d been close to Jake, since you had trouble sleeping too, and had many late night heart to hearts with him over the past few years. So to say Sam hurting you upset him was an understatement. “You said she left, did she go to her apartment?”

“I think so.” Sam nodded. “She won’t answer my texts or calls.”

“Deservedly so.” Jake huffed. “I can try calling her.” Sam’s eyes were scanning the decorations around the living room, the lawn ones still in their boxes.

“No, go get her.” Sam said. “Bring her back home. I’m gonna make this up to her.”

“How?” Jake asked skeptically, seeing a slightly crazy look in his baby brothers eye.

“You remember Bronner’s, back home?”

“Yeah?”

“My house is gonna put it to shame.” Sam hung up, immediately dialing his best friend Danny, and texting his other brother Josh, explaining to them what happened and, after being scolded by both, got them to agree to his plan. Within an hour, Danny and Josh were at Sam’s, lugging boxes from their cars in.

Across the town, Jake was knocking on the door of your apartment. You dragged yourself from your position in the couch, peeking through the peephole and undoing the lock before opening the door slightly.

“Hey love.” Jake gave you a soft smile, and you swallowed down your sadness to give him one back.

“Hi Jake.” You opened the door more and gestured for him to come inside. He thanked you quietly and you shut the door behind him, smoothing your palms on your jeans. “Sam sent you?”

“Technically.” Jake admitted. “I would’ve come after he told me what happened anyway.” you bit the inside of your cheek, crossing your arms over your chest. “I’m not here for him, though. I want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’ll be fine.” you sniffled. Jake shook his head. “Really, it was just a little lovers spat.” Jake nodded, conceding.

“Well, I’m starving, and I’d love some company for dinner.” he smirked good-naturedly. “Wanna join me?” you thought it over, knowing if you didn’t go with your friend, he’d order in and stay with you anyway. “Come on, don’t make me eat soup alone at a diner.”

“Sure. Let me get my coat.”

🎄🎄🎄

“Hey! Watch out Rosie!” Danny gently tugged the dog out of the way of the light up inflatable snowman Josh was plugging in. “Go on, get back inside.”

“I think we need more green lights.” Sam called, standing towards the road and looking over his front yard.

“We cleaned out the store of all their lights, so I don’t know where you’re gonna get ‘em.” Josh called back. Sam frowned at his brother and sighed. “I think we’ve done everything.” Josh stepped next to Sam, glancing over the home. “If we do anything else you’re gonna blow a fuse.”

“A fuse is a small price to pay to make her happy.” Josh set his mouth in a straight line.

“You know this is just a bandaid, right?” Josh asked quietly. “You’re going to have to have a real talk about what’s going on.”

“I know.” Sam nodded. “But I need to make her know I do appreciate everything she’s done, and why she's done it.” Josh clapped Sam’s shoulder.

“Well, every twinkle light in the tri-county area should be a good start.”

“Jake’s on his way!” Danny announced, jogging over from where he had hung lights on one of the small oak trees in the yard. “He took her to dinner and said he’d help her grab some things from here, so they should be here soon.”

“Shit okay.” Sam began to scramble, checking lights and making sure everything looked good, and the inflatables were facing properly. He ran inside, ripping off the button down shirt he had sported all day and pulled on his white cable knit sweater, your favorite of his. You always snuggled and hugged him more when he wore it.

When Jake’s car pulled in the driveway, Sam practically leapt out the door, hearing Josh and Danny greet you and Jake.

“What happened here?” he heard you ask, a slight tone of awe in your voice as you took in the lights. You were stunned, looking up at everything that had happened since you left earlier in the afternoon.

“The Grinch’s heart grew three sizes today.” Josh smirked, nodding to the small walkway from the driveway to the front door. Your smile fell a bit, knowing Sam was waiting up there for you. “Go on, take in the splendor of your winter wonderland.”

You gave him a soft smile as he ushered you forward, and you took a few hesitant steps towards the pathway. You glanced back quickly, catching Jake’s eyes. He gave you a supportive nod, and you took a deep breath and moved forward again. Sam had completely covered his entire home and yard with lights, and you felt your eyes prickle with tears. You laughed at the Santa peeking out from an outhouse, and aww’d at the light up golden retriever wearing a Santa hat and holding a present by the bow in its mouth. The bushes were covered with multicolored net lighting and bright blue icicle lights dangled from the edge of the roof. You looked up, seeing Sam standing in front of the front door, wringing his hands anxiously. He gave you a beaming smile, albeit one tinged with guilt and a little shame. You made it all the way to the bottom step before you stopped, looking up at him with tears welling in your eyes.

“I’m sorry.” “I’m so sorry!” You both apologized at the same time. Sam’s brow furrowed as he stepped down to greet you.

“What are you sorry for?” Sam shook his head. “I was a complete and utter asshole, I didn’t even realize what this holiday meant to you, especially now.” you went to wipe a spilled tear away but Sam beat you to it.

“I should’ve just told you what I was feeling.” you admitted. “To be honest, I didn’t realize how over the top I was going until you pointed it out.”

“You’re not the only one who can go over the top.” Sam smirked, gesturing out to the yard.

“You did all of this for me?” you whispered, afraid your voice would crack if you spoke above that. Sam grinned.

“I had some helpers.” Sam nodded to the driveway, where three heads quickly ducked out of view behind the corner of the garage. “I did the inside myself though. It’s more cozy.”

“Sam, this is crazy and wonderful.” Sam reached out, cupping your face with one of his large hands and you leaned into it, his strong palm cradling your cheek delicately. “You didn’t have to do all of this. I just…after my mom passed, I kept thinking, this is it, this is the last Christmas I’ll have with my dad. And last years really was. I thought all the awfulizing and worrying and anxiety had prepared me to be without them. But it didn’t. And I just tried to do my best to not feel their absence, I guess. But instead it pushed you away.”

“You shouldn’t have to carry that alone, love.” Sam’s plush lips fell to a slight frown. “And I’m sorry I’ve been shit at helping you carry it. But from here on out, I’m going to do my part completely. For as long as you’ll have me, I’ll carry whatever you need me to.” Tears were spilling down your cheeks, dripping onto your shirt and pooling into his palm as he held your face still, his free arm wrapping around your waist and holding you close. “If that means turning my house into a landing strip every Christmas, I’ll be up there hanging lights on the roof all day and night until they’re perfect for you.” you chuckled and shook your head.

“That’s a lot.” you smiled up at him with a sniffle. Sam smiled back. “We don’t have to do this every year…but I do want to keep the outhouse Santa.”

“It’s yours, baby.” Sam laughed. He was about to say something else, but was cut off by Danny’s disembodied voice.

“Look up!” it called from around the garage. You and Sam both looked up at the same time, seeing a ball of mistletoe hanging by a bright red satin ribbon above your heads.

“Now this is a Christmas tradition I like.” Sam smirked down at you endearingly. He adjusted his hand that was on your face, letting his fingers slide back into you hair a bit as you leaned your face up to his. He asked softly if he could kiss you, and you answered with a resounding yes. As soon as his soft lips touched your own, you felt your heart strum and a warm feeling spread through your body. The only word in your mind was “home”. After a few moments enjoying the mistletoe kiss, you parted, both of you smiling at each other sappily. “Let’s get you inside before we freeze into ice statues together.”

“Wait,” you paused. “I know we have some talking to do, but they worked so hard with you. We should invite them in for a hot cocoa and some cookies, don’t you think?” Sam gave you a soft smile and nod. You turned away, hopping down the stairs and jogging down the walkway. The three brothers that had been hiding behind the garage quickly made themselves look busy, like they weren’t watching you and Sam kiss and makeup. “Very inconspicuous. Incredibly nonchalant. Now get your asses in the house so we can make some cocoa.”

“Oh, we couldn’t impose.” Josh feigned politeness before booking it for the front door, shouting to Sam that he’d better have stocked up on oatmilk. Danny followed him and Jake gave your shoulder a squeeze as he passed you, a happy smile tugging at his lips.

“I’m rooting for you two.” he said quietly as you walked with him up the walkway. “But if you ever need help kicking his ass, I’ll be there.” you chuckled and patted him on the back.

“I’ll be taking you up on that one day, I know it.” You stopped next to Sam as he let Jake inside ahead of him, and nodded for you to go through. You stood under the mistletoe again and crooked your finger, beckoning him over with a sly smirk on your face. Sam grinned and in two large steps he was in front of you, arms wrapping around your torso and lips crashing onto yours.

“Merry Christmas, lovely.” Sam whispered against your lips. You smiled into his kisses, squeezing his body to yours.

“Merry Christmas, Sam.”

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#sam kiszka x reader #sam kiskza #sam gvf #greta van fleet imagine #greta van fleet fic #greta van fleet #gvf fanfiction #gvf fic #greta van christmas #sam might be getting a NYE fic so he'll get a fluffy redemption don't worry

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perceabeth · 2 years

Note

childhood friends coffee shop au

mari bestie u missed the memo where i said JOCK au but it's ok i wrote u this <3

People Watching

“What about the kids sitting at Crescent?”

“Cres– you can’t name our tables, Annabeth.” Percy leans his elbows on the counter and peers around the snack shelf. “That’s… no. I think they’re friends.”

“So you knew what I meant by Crescent.” Annabeth points a finger at him and Percy snorts.

“The table by the window that opens up into Crescent Street? It isn’t rocket science.” He flicks her forehead and Annabeth scowls at him. “But they’re not dating. Look– the guy in the yellow jacket, he keeps checking his phone. It’s way too desperate– he’s texting a partner, or a potential partner, a crush. You know.”

“Fair enough.” Annabeth looks around the room. It’s slim pickings today– late Tuesday mornings aree generally quiet.

“There.” Percy says. “What about that group by The Bar?”

“The Bar?” Annabeth makes a face at him. “I’ll have you know that table is named Lawyer’s Ledge. Silena and I spent ages naming these tables. They’re our children.”

“Except all your names suck. But fine. Who in that group is dating?”

Annabeth observed them carefully. “There. The girl in green and the ginger girl. Look at the way they look at each other. I’d bet money they’re holding hands under the table when they think their friends aren’t watching.”

“I’m not sure. The tall skinny guy bought the redhead’s drink.”

“So? Maybe they’re friends. Maybe he owes her.”

“Fine. It doesn’t matter.” Something over her shoulder catches his attention. “Don’t make it obvious but a new couple just walked in.”

Even before she can find it in herself to be irritated– why would I make it obvious? This isn’t my first rodeo, Percy– her new customers have already crossed the length of the café and are currently waiting to be served. The girl seems warm enough– bright smile and sparkling brown eyes. Her companion is a little less welcoming, keeping an awkward but respectful distance from her, his broad shoulders rolled back and his spine erect as he watched Annabeth step back into the counter.

“Hey guys, what can I get for you?” She turns on her screen as the girl hums, scanning the menu.

“I’m going to get a large iced double shot caramel macchiato with five pumps of vanilla syrup. Is that okay?” Annabeth glances at Percy, who’s trying really hard to keep a straight face and then nods at her. “Extra whip, and some extra caramel drizzle on it.”

“Sure thing.” Annabeth checks the time on her screen. It’s only 10AM but Annabeth and Percy have already been on their feet for five hours. With that amount of caffeine and sugar for such a small body– it’s hard to imagine the girl shaking off the effects of her drink by the time night rolls around. “And you?”

“I’ll have a green tea. Regular, please.”

“Not a coffee person?” Annabeth asks as she rings them up. The guy shakes his head.

“Not really. Also a lemon muffin for me.” He adds, looking at his friend, who thinks about it for a moment before deciding against any food. Annabeth thinks she might be better for it. She’s grateful to have this job– if for any reason that it helps pay her bills– but she wouldn’t touch a single thing from their bakery with a ten foot pole.

“Cool. Percy?” Annabeth hands him the order. “Need me to help?”

“No, I’ve got it.” He waves her off and Annabeth turns back to the couple.

“Got any plans for the day?”

“Not really.” The girl looks up hopefully at the boy. “Just thought we’d come grab some coffee and work on an assignment together.”

“It’s a nice day out, isn’t it?” Annabeth’s met some dense boys before– hell, she’s worked alongside some dense boys before– so it doesn’t take much for her to catch onto the girl’s tragic plight. “Sure your assignment can wait. Go out, enjoy it. We’re not going to see the sun like this for a while.”

“What do you think, Jason?” The girl taps her card against the reader and pays for the entire thing. Annabeth notices how she isn’t thanked. “You know… Jones doesn’t expect anything from us for another two weeks.”

“I don’t know.” Jason glowers at Annabeth like she’s the single source of all his problems. It doesn’t bother her all that much– she’s had a lot worse from customers who’ve received the wrong flavouring in their coffee. “How about we work for a bit, and we’ll take it from there.”

“Sounds like a plan.” The girl doesn’t seem too beaten down by their compromise. She looks around the coffee shop and studies Annabeth for a moment before doing the same to Percy. “So what’s the vibe here supposed to be?”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugs. “You’re so… frills and lace in your hair and he’s so… ripped jeans and just-rolled-out-of bed. No uniform?”

“Cool boss.” Percy tells her as he carefully places Jason’s lemon muffin on their tray. He slides it across to them. “Thanks for coming down.”

They watch the two of them debate between two tables– Baby Shit and Makeout Corner– before settling on the less fortunately named one. Percy lets out a sympathetic oof.

“Baby Shit.” He sighs. “That’s a shame. They aren’t getting far.”

“You never know.” Annabeth counters. “Maybe they’ll graduate to Makeout Corner.”

“If she doesn’t die of diabetes first.” Percy snorts. “Cocaine would be a healthier option than what she’s drinking.”

“Stop.” Annabeth laughs. “She looks like she really likes him, you know.”

“First date?” Percy asks. “She paid for the entire thing. I’d say that’s pretty progressive.”

“Sure, in the 1800s.” Annabeth smacks him in the chest. “They don’t seem like they have much in common on the surface, do they?”

“Oh, yeah. He’s a military brat. She’s got a rich father. They’ll be miserable together.”

“You think?” Annabeth tilts her head as she watches them. “I don’t know. Sometimes it’s nice to be with someone different from you, right?”

“Why?” Percy grabs her by the hips and tugs her backwards into him. “Like frills and lace in your hair is different from ripped jeans and whatever she called me?”

“Yeah. Like that.” Annabeth presses a kiss to his jaw. “Exactly like that.”

“If that kid’s anything like me,” Percy mumbles into her ear. “She needs to make a move. And fast.”

“Why?” Annabeth asks. “Did I have a lot of competition?”

“Yeah. That girl from my art class was super into me. She’d have snapped me right up if you hadn’t swung in on time.” Percy says, dead serious. “I’m hot commodity, Annabeth.”

“Fine, then.” Annabeth lets him lift her off her feet and push her onto the counter. Technically, they aren’t allowed to do that, but the place is empty enough that their chances of getting caught are pretty low. Percy steps in between her legs and she locks her ankles around him. “Want to bet who can pull more people?”

“I’m not playing that game with you.” Percy throws his head back when he laughs. “You kidding me? You’d wipe the floor with me.”

“Glad we’ve established that.” Annabeth smirks and Percy leans in for a quick peck on the lips. “Hey. None of that cute stuff. Cindy finds out we’re making out on the clock– we’re both fired.”

Percy presses his forehead against hers. “That’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

#mari #perseannabeth #dizzy miss lizzie #q&a

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