#bourbon time 'round the clock

[butwilltherebealcohol]

someone talking about the future: and with _____ imagine what things will be like in like 5 years!

Me, envisioning being alive for another 5 years: uhm. fuck no nono fuckno no godno please fuck no

#tw depressed #tw suicidal #hahaaaa im so tired :) #personal #guess who's drunk #bourbon time 'round the clock #future #no thank u

[eddies-house]

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Smoke Signals

Chapter Three - Two Old Fashioneds

W/C: 5.2K

Eddie x Fem reader - Grumpy!Bartender!Eddie x Shy!Reader

Your first shift at The Bourbon goes less than smoothly and more chaotic. Does the town's hard-ass really have his shit together like he leads everyone to believe?

A/N: guys I'm so excited for this to pick up even more (i want to make them kiss like barbies but all in good time)

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The ins and outs of a bar were something you could have never anticipated and while similar in certain ways to a diner, there was a distinct line that separated the two.  A diner had grumpy old men complaining about not getting their coffee soon enough.  The bar had grumpy old men slurring their words, groaning about their lives and insisting that a ‘cute lil thing like you’ would fix everything.  You had to stop yourself from gagging, plaster a smile on your face, and carry on.  Because one complaint and you could be out of a job, only proving that you couldn’t handle the ‘rowdy’ customers as disclosed by the boss, who now that you thought about, hadn’t seen in the last forty minutes.  

Not one other server was on staff to at least show you the ropes, it seemed like you were the first one.  One of the bartenders, Jett, who had been the one you’d seen working the day before, was unfortunately selected to both train you and run the bar for the most part tonight, no time for a proper introduction before you were thrown into the deep end, only a quick exchange of names.  It was a Thursday night but apparently to people in Knife’s Edge that meant the weekend started early.  Poor Jett was nineteen years old and the whole bar depended on you two ever since 8:00 PM when you clocked in for your very first shift.  It was nauseating having to ask him stupid questions in between attempting to serve tables while he made drink after drink, desperately trying to keep up with each order and delivering them to the right customer, even going as far to step out from behind the bar to tend to some of your tables.  You assume he was probably used to it, what with how he did it without hesitation and seemed to have his own little system in place.

It wasn’t your fault, he assured you.  It’s just that you happened to pick up your first shift the very night that the kitchen ran out of beef which also happened to be the main ingredient of one of The Bourbon’s only menu items, the famous Shreddar Burger topped with an ungodly amount of cheese and jalapenos.  Turns out the customers went wild for it.  It didn’t seem appetizing but you weren’t going to argue with the crowd favorite.  And now it was being requested left and right, the explanation that the kitchen was currently out but should be back to whipping up another round soon, not enough for their hungry bellies.  The best you could offer was a basket of fries until the beef magically showed up, Jett insisting that someone was taking care of it and that the cook would be back to whipping them up as planned sooner than later.  You were beginning to lose faith in his promises but proceeded one step at a time regardless.

Just one more task and then the beef will be here and I won’t have to hear another damn grievance over a heartburn-inducing burger. 

Yet it seemed to never come to an end, table after table requesting the very same order each time; only for you or Jett to break the news that their precious burger would have to wait and that again, the best you could offer were some fries or chicken wings, neither measuring up to the pedestal they held this burger on.

By around 9:15 PM, out came Eddie from the kitchen, door swinging behind him as sweat dripped from his brow.  He was out of breath, chest heaving while he gestured for you and Jett to come over to which you obeyed, zigzagging around tables in a hurry with a tray tucked under your arm, brows pinched together stressfully.  A new party of eight had just arrived which prompted you to push three tables together to accompany them, their drink order hadn’t even been taken yet and Eddie seemed to pick the worst time to call an impromptu meeting, in the middle of a never ending rush.  Burgerless.  

“Beef’s here.  Jett, I need you to help with the rest of the boxes so we can get burgers going.”  He instructs, the boy immediately following orders and frantically heading through the swinging door at full speed, very aware that he still had the front of house to attend to.  “And you, Bambi, change of plans.  I need you in the kitchen.”

So much to unpack in just one sentence.  The kitchen?  Bambi?

“Well–I-I thought I was just a server–”

“I said change of plans, I need you in the kitchen.”  Before you could ask further questions, he disappears into the kitchen and for a split second you turn to glance at the full bar awaiting service only to wince and follow him.  No one was managing the front and that made your nerves twitch but you suppose the boss knows what he’s doing.  At least you hope.  Your first hour or so had been a shit show.

Pans clanked against the metal worktop as he shoved them out of the way, clearing the space and igniting the flat top all while not batting an eye at you or caring to further explain.  You could just make out the formation of numbers on his lips, no sound coming out, but he was distinctly lip syncing the numbers one through three over and over.  It was strange though you didn’t have much time to process it, instead opting to internally lose it over the sheer idea of filling in for another position.  You didn’t sign up to be a cook and this was way out of your scope of skills.  He deemed you as incapable of being a server and now he was putting the foundation of this place on your shoulders.

“Randy, our cook left.”  He begins, oiling up the surface, his focus never faltering.  “Don’t know why, don’t know where.  All I know is I went to pick up beef and when I came back he was gone.”  

Jett scrambles near the back door, hauling boxes of beef into the walkin freezer as your eyes dart between him and Eddie, a certain queasiness forming in your stomach.  Eddie continues pulling supplies out and though it's within your rights to demand to return to your original position in the front, you can’t, the words won’t come out.  

“So you’re gonna flip burgers, Jett and I will be in and out to help while also holding it down out there.”

“I don’t even know how to ‘flip burgers’!”  

It comes out less hostile and more alarmed, your eyes feigning apprehension at the current inconsistency of the place.  In any other circumstance you should leave, quit with your dignity intact however that is not an option and you are in no position to be calling any shots; you begged for this job, afterall.

“You don’t know how to flip burgers.”  He deadpans.

“I-”

“You ever flipped a pancake?”

It’s not a genuine question, more of a mockery of your simpleminded excuse.  His head drops to catch your line of sight that had been previously shooting around the colorless kitchen, saturated in grays and whites that would drive anyone mad.  

“That’s not what I meant–”  You proclaim, setting your tray on an unoccupied work top.

“Just–cook the meat.  Make sure it’s not raw.”

As if that wasn’t the whole point of ‘cooking’ it.  This guy must have thought you had mush for brains yet he was the one with a crumbling structure of a business just based on what you’ve experienced in one night.  One hour, even.  You were starting to miss the senior citizens from the previous evening that appeared to have had a great deal of patience in comparison to the younger crowd that seemed to have more audacity and a shorter attention span.

“But what about–”

“Stop asking questions!  Just follow my lead.”  He demands, rushing out to the back, the door propped open so he could assist Jett in retrieving the remaining boxes from his truck.

What lead?  There was no lead.  Only chaos.

You idled next to the grill, shuffling your feet against the grimy tiles beneath you and taking notice of the astonishingly disgusting drain on the floor, coated in some kind of copper-colored grease.  At least if Eddie came back in to yell at you for not doing anything, you had the excuse of manning the grill, ensuring his precious bar didn’t burn to the ground though metaphorically, it already was.  What else were you supposed to do?  

–

You were sure the smell of beef, onions and cheese were going to be crusted into your hair for eternity when all was said and done.  Eddie and Jett had been taking turns walking you through the steps of creating this so-called famous burger and after a few mutilated testers, you eventually got the hang of it and it became a game of rinse and repeat.  Sometimes an order for a rare cooked burger would come in and you could only hope that you cooked it just enough that it wouldn’t bring on a nasty case of food poisoning to whoever had requested it.

Eddie stood behind you at the fryer, back to you while putting together another batch of fries to store under the heat lamps while you pieced together yet another burger, setting it along the space designated for finished meals along with its corresponding ticket underneath.  Eddie dumped some fries onto the plate before swiping it up and delivering it to its table.  When he quickly came back in to repeat the same motions, a question lingered in the back of your mind and it only made sense to ask it.

“Why am I on burger duty?”  You question, mentally facepalming at the phrasing you chose.

“Come again?”  He gives you another chance.

“I-I mean, if I’m brand new, why put me in charge of one of the most important things on the menu?  Why don’t you cook and I keep serving?”  

It seemed like a valid concern, only your first day and suddenly you’ve moved up to head of the kitchen?  Okay, maybe not head of the kitchen but that’s how it felt when thing one and thing two were constantly rotating out and mainly only managing fries and other small bar foods that were simple enough to make in big batches.  The grease from it all felt prominent on your skin, and you feared your sweat was going to become one with the vegetable oil.

“Every person out there knows me.  And I know them.  I know how to butter them up.”  He explains, a rogue curl escaping his messy bun in the mayhem of it all as he dumps another large portion of potatoes into the fryer.  “You…well, you know.”

It’s uncertain whether that was meant to be an insult or simply him losing his train of thought.  Either way, you didn’t read much into it, only nodding hesitantly.

“Don’t worry, we’ll throw you back to the wolves in no time.”  Eddie half jokes, exiting the kitchen once again, this time with plates balanced on his forearms and palms, Jett zooming past him to start up another round of wings.

“So, how are you enjoying hell?”  He laughs, giving his hands a good scrub down.

“Oh, it’s amazing.”  You exaggerate, piling some cheddar cheese high on top of the charred meat, topping it off with jalapenos and a bun, then plating it up with some fries.

“Well, I promise it’s not like this every shift.  And contrary to what you may have seen tonight, Eddie’s a good boss.  Just kinda cranky but you learn to ignore it.”

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.”  The man in question rushes by, heading for the walk-in freezer, yet again counting in threes, this time using his fingers as well.

–

As promised, you were sent back up to the front once things had slowed down, the bar emptying out aside from a few regulars that had straggled behind.  It was a manageable workload between three people, plus Jett was able to offer a little more in depth training behind the bar as well as giving you the official tour of The Bourbon.  

There was the main room where all the action was, dimly lit to create a nice ambience littered in knick knacks that decorated the walls, torn band posters covering the ceiling along with some Christmas lights.  Of course there was a pool table though you hadn’t witnessed any intense games in your short time here.  Jett took the liberty of educating you on the kitchen a little further should anything of tonight’s nature happen again.  You learned where everything was kept for their small but cherished menu, where the storage closet containing all the cleaning supplies was as well as the back office which was only reserved for Eddie according to Jett.  Lastly, he showed you the dumpsters, in case you happened to be on trash duty and he even gave you strict instructions on how to close them back up so animals wouldn’t rummage.

Now you were back behind the bar, being taught to make the signature drink, an old fashioned containing cinnamon, nutmeg, and ginger.  You could appreciate it, a bit spicy and a touch smooth, accompanying that burnt wood taste that would get you there fast.  It wasn’t a difficult drink to make however, perfecting the presentation was what set you back.  You couldn’t simply toss a cherry and an orange twist into the liquor, it had to be done tastefully.  Or that’s how Jett explained it, claiming that those were Eddie’s words.  The drink was in a way, an art and you couldn’t be sloppy with it, not by The Bourbon’s standards.

A  hectic night of becoming a makeshift cook, training as a server, and an intake of so much new information would do a number on anyone and the bags under your eyes clearly showed the physical exhaustion you were experiencing.  You didn’t think you ever worked so hard even at the diner back at home during rush hour.

“Little lamb made it through the night.”

Tilting your head up from the cocktail before you momentarily, you’re met with that pair of intimidating but gorgeous eyes, nearly black in the low lighting of the bar.  It was interesting, you’d seen many brown eyes in your lifetime but none of them resembled something quite like the universe he held in his, his outlook on things noticeably different from the average person.  He had taken a seat at one of the stools on the opposite side of the bar from you, some paperwork laid out in front of him as he began scribbling something down.  All you could offer him was the raise of your brow in acknowledgement of his presence, too engaged in perfecting the cherries on the toothpick just right, balancing them on the rim of the glass like a circus act.  

“They’re too close together.”  Eddie remarks, his gaze glued to the paper he had been marking up, an inventory list you notice at a second glance. 

“Hmm?”  You might as well have been in your own world, some kind of trance caused by fatigue pulling at your muscles and overworked mind.  

“Cherries.  They’re unbalanced.”

For a man of such few words, he still seemed to say a lot.  The attitude ingrained in his tone never appeared to let up and it felt as if something was either always bugging him or losing his interest.  Never content, always sour and sharp-tongued.  

“Oh.”  You sigh in defeat, as if it were impossible to simply pick up the toothpick resting against the glass and your finger and move the cherries, solving the case of the wobbling toothpick.

Jett emerged next to you after participating in some small talk with a regular at the end of the bar, a grin on his youthful face despite what a shit show the night had been.  So far you observed that he was something of an optimist, smiling his way through tough situations.  It was refreshing.

“There you go!”  He praises, gesturing greatly to the drink you’d just created.  Your third try at it. 

“Jett, you’re bein’ a shitty example.  Leaving your sheep unattended.”  Eddie grumbles, sticking a toothpick in his mouth.  You’d be lying if you said you wished he’d stop sticking toothpicks in his damn mouth.  Well, half-lying.  You’d admit he looked good chewing on a tiny piece of wood but he did it far too often.

Wait…sheep?  Were you the sheep?  Was this a jab at you?  You’d just spent the night keeping this place afloat and he was insulting you once again?

“Munson, I’d say I’m doing just fine considering you left us without a fuckin’ cook the whole night.”  Jett defends.  You want to grimace, knowing this wasn’t the standard when talking to your boss but Eddie seemed unphased while the boy kept grinning at him as he leaned against the bar.  “Plus, it seems like this sheep kicked ass on only her first day.”  He nudges your shoulder with his, sliding the drink you’d just concocted in front of Eddie.  You smiled in appreciation of his kind words.

“I didn’t leave you without a cook.  Cook fuckin’ left without telling anyone.”  He reasons, immediately throwing half the drink back in one swig.  

Please don’t taste shitty, please don’t taste shitty, please don’t taste shitty.

“And I guess you proved not to be as dainty as I thought.”  Eddie admits to you, throwing the rest of the drink back.  No complaints yet.  Only what you could make out to be a compliment.

“So can she stay?”  Jett pleads, bottom lip jutted out for emphasis.  He seemed to have taken a liking to you but then again, the place was short staffed so maybe he was just desperate to have anyone help out.

Eddie looks up from his list, pen tapping against the bar top with annoyance.  There was still no indication whether the old fashioned had been any good or not, seemingly forgotten about amongst the conversation and it was quietly eating at you.  The need for validation.

“That’s up to her, kid.” 

Both pairs of eyes landed on you, anticipating your answer.

“Well, uh, I dunno.”  You shrug.  “Was I even any good at making a drink?”  Like you had a choice in accepting the job, this is all you had.

“I dunno.”  Eddie replies, sliding the glass back over to you.  “Try again, let's see.”

“That’s a yes.”  Jett chimes in.  “Big boy wants a refill.”

“Jett, I will personally give you a swirly.”  There’s a glimpse of humor in Eddie’s tone, the smallest you’ve seen within him so far though you refrained from giggling.

“Oh, a swirly?  Real mature.”  Jett mocks, Eddie quietly snorting a laugh in response.  

His smile was cute.  

And it may be the first time you’d seen a genuine one from him.  He had dimples, deep, deep dimples.  It was a wonder why he didn’t put them on display more.

In the midst of the banter, you began whipping up another old fashioned, The Bourbon way.  You figured it wouldn’t be your place to insert yourself among the jokes, being the new girl.  It was best to keep quiet until you blended in a bit more.  Several customers throughout the night had already initiated conversation stating they’d never seen you before and you didn’t need to draw any more attention to yourself than you’d already received.

“Make it a double?”  Eddie interrupts your process.

Again you look up to meet those large eyes, practically black holes absorbing any and all light aside from a tiny sparkle you found that survived within them.  He was asking and not demanding.  He owned the whole damn place and yet he was asking you to make it a double when he could very well just tell you.

“Yeah.”  You whisper, unsure of yourself.  A double just meant…well, double, right?

So you turn to Jett who was now scrubbing at an especially sticky spot on the bar.  He didn’t take any notice in your silent plea much to your regret.  You looked like an idiot, pondering over what exactly the measurements should be since today's training didn’t exactly cover what to do should someone ask for a double.  At least you knew how to use the entirety of the kitchen though…

“Just another shot.”  Eddie instructs, emotionless.

With a nod, you kick right into action, using what you learned and putting it to use while remembering to add an additional shot and not completely overlook it in your uneasiness.  You didn’t care to peer up at him once more, uncertain if he was still watching your every move and unsure whether he would reprimand you for making one mistake in crafting his drink.  He said nothing so it was safe to assume he had resumed filling out his boring paperwork.

“See, she’s a natural!”  Jett applauds upon turning back toward you as you carefully pierce the cherries with a toothpick, balancing them just how Eddie had taught you.  

It really wasn’t rocket science and you could feel the humiliation seep into your bones at the thought of him judging you for simply not being able to figure out why they kept falling in before.  You were by no means a natural.

“You’re gonna be the new favorite, I can already tell.  Everyone’s gonna love ya.”  Though Jett’s words are appreciated and far too kind, you can’t help but doubt his confidence in you.

You were used to being a fly on the wall, observing and keeping to yourself among loud personalities.  And you were okay with that.  Being so removed grants you the ability to perceive everyone else without barely even being perceived yourself.  It was flattering, the way Jett talked you up having only known you for a few hours but you knew you were nothing special.  He was just being nice and most likely picked up on your anxious undertones.

Eddie remained mute, continuing to scribble away at the paper in front of him as if you and Jett weren’t there.  Just as silent, you slid the drink over into his peripheral before occupying your hands with a rag to wipe up any remnants caused by your shaky hands.  He only scanned the drink over once before tapping his pen against the counter, three times.  Always in threes.  

Awaiting his consensus on your bartending, you pretend to pay no mind, as though his opinion is the last thing on earth you would want.  Really, it’s all you want.  To know if you exceeded at crafting the bar’s signature drink or if you failed so miserably that he wouldn't let you behind the bar again.  After all, your official job title would be ‘server’ and server’s didn’t generally make drinks, they served.  But this wasn’t a normal bar and it seemed everyone was performing more than one job at a time so if you had to make drinks you might as well be somewhat good at it.  And if not, it could render you useless in his perception, seeing as he’d already underestimated you before.

When he finally takes a sip, large hand wrapped around the glass, you refrain from sucking in a breath because although he had already had one, he gulped it down like water.  This time it seemed he was performing a quality check.

“Good.”  His monotone voice doesn’t convey much other than you’ve at least satisfied him to some extent.  But that's it.

Next to you, Jett celebrates again before tending to another customer and then yelling out for the last call.  Eddie’s focus doesn’t budge from his work while he sips away at his drink, this time nurturing it rather than greedily throwing it all back.

–

Some time around 12:30 AM Jett had dashed out after the bar received a phone call from his mom complaining that the racoons had stormed their barn and came too close to threatening their chicken coop again.  With all patrons now gone and only cleaning and closing left to be done, Eddie dismissed him from work and told him to get a better handle on the raccoon situation seeing as it happened three times in the past month.  Jett muttered something about how raccoons are relentless and how they will find a way if they really want to on his way out.  

With one last wipe down of the tables and a thorough cleaning of the bar top, all that was left on your mental checklist given to you courtesy of Eddie was making sure behind the bar was organized and pristine for the following day, bottles accounted for, and glasses washed and dried.  He was absent for a good thirty minutes but you concluded he was doing his share in the kitchen as you heard the clanging of metal on metal and a few curses every now and then when there was an extra loud crash. 

The sudden crackle of a speaker and booming music startles you, a glass nearly slipping out of your grasp at the sound.  A harsh metal song blares through the bar, guitar wailing and bass vibrating, causing a few bottles to gently clink against each other on the shelf.  Seconds later, Eddie came sauntering out from the back office with a broom in hand and a cigarette hanging from his bottom lip, unlit.  

You try to ignore whatever he may be up to but find it impossible not to look up from the glass you were polishing off.  His hair was unruly, now out of the confines of a bun and seeming to have only gotten bigger throughout the night and–he wasn’t using the broom for sweeping.  Instead, he crawled on top of a freshly cleaned table with his dirty, clunky boots and poked at something in the rafters, tugging it forward.  You wanted to be mad that he was stepping on your freshly scrubbed table but you couldn’t help but be curious, pausing your motions to stare and try to predict his next move.  

The end of the broom was looped under the handle of a small wooden box and his arm stretched out to open it before pulling some cash out of his pocket and sticking it in the box.  Then he closed it back up and shoved it back into place, out of sight.  Once he jumped down off the table, he began walking toward the back again, stopping in his tracks when he realized you were standing there watching him the whole time.  

A puff of air escapes his lips, his bangs briefly blowing upward before resting back against his forehead.  You tear your gaze away, now more interested in cleaning water droplets off of another glass.  Your heart pounding, his footsteps only inch closer and closer and yet again, he is on the opposite side of the bar from you, staring you down.  It was obvious he had forgotten you were there.  The unlit cigarette is plucked from his lips in between his fingers and tucked behind his ear.

“You didn’t see that.  If it goes missing, I’ll know it was you.”  He speaks so gruffly and low, as if someone might hear despite the place being empty.

Nodding in submission, you can’t bring yourself to catch his fierce gaze.

“Yeah?”  Eddie pushes for a verbal response, more intensity to his tone.

“Yes.”  You chirp.  Like a pathetic little bird.  

Satisfied with your answer, he hums, resting the broom against a stool before making his way around the bar, pulling a rag out of his back pocket and assisting you with wiping down the remaining glasses.  There had to have been at least a dozen left and by the looks of it, he had finished his tasks and wanted to get out of here.  So you worked in silence, side by side.

It felt like an eternity but it must have only been two minutes later when you began to feel antsy.  Like you were supposed to initiate a friendly conversion.  Some kind of bullshit small talk.  And then your better judgment kicks in, telling you ‘better not’ since the man beside you didn’t seem like the small talk type.  In all fairness you weren’t either but it felt like you had to constantly conform to certain standards.  Then your mouth started running without a second thought because one thought provoked you and now you just had to know.

“So…the bingo night…is that a regular thing?”

A side eye from him may as well have shot daggers directly into you, his movements pausing as he scowled.  So you backtracked.

“N-nevermind–”

“Yes.”  He answers abruptly, much to your surprise.

“Oh.”  

Your voice comes out soft, as if trying not to spook an animal.  And for as annoyed as he looks, he’s the one who answered after you attempted to give him an out.  He was a very conflicting man, hard to read and mysterious.  

“Every Wednesday.  The senior home wants its residents to get out every now and then.”

“And…they chose a bar?”  A smile tugs at your lips, one that you can’t help.

“What’s wrong with that?”  

His face shows offense but his tone holds some kind of amusement, the slightest bit of personality seeping through the cracks and exposing itself to you.

“I just–nothing, it’s just, out of every place they could choose…a bar?”  You couldn’t wrap your head around the idea, shaking your head.

“I mean, we’re the only place that offered.”  

There’s a genuine kind of hurt behind his words.  You’re unable to determine if it was directed toward your question or something else wading through his mind.  Or if it was even meant to slip out in any way based on how closed off he was.  Your guess was that his sudden projection of an emotion was a slip up and that it was up to you to ignore it otherwise he’d give you an even harder time.

“Oh.”  Again, your soft spoken voice carries itself gently to his ears.  “That’s…nice.  Really nice.”  You say honestly, glancing at him.

For having such tough armor and such offputting behavior, Eddie was pretty.  His curls were messy and appeared to be pieced apart by his fingers running through them constantly, leaving them fuzzy and unkempt.  But still appealing.  And his side profile illuminated by the warm lights was soft but still manly, handsome.  He was good looking, there was no denying that.  His personality was rather repelling though and good looks could only get you so far, not that he was flaunting how attractive he was and using it to his benefit.  

Coming out of your trance, you find that you’re both down to the last few glasses, silence taking over once again.  Out of the corner of your eye, you take notice of the way Eddie’s mouth forms numbers again, without sound.

One, two, three.  One, two, three.  One, two, three.

All mouthed as he seems to breathe unevenly.  You don’t draw any attention to your observation much like earlier when you’d caught him doing the same thing.  There were depths to him that you were beginning to feel were unexplored by anyone other than himself.  A loneliness detected beneath the surface of his solid and impenetrable armor.

~end~

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tags - @gravedigginbbydoll @ohauggieo @spicysix @lunatictardis @ali-r3n @batkin028 @mrsjellymunson @witchwolflea @emma77645 @emxxblog @eddiemunson95 @angietherose @lottie-90 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @pullingattheroots @avalon-wolf @vintagehellfire @cryingglightningg @foreveranexpatsposts @winchester-angel @mmunson86 @witchwolflea @kurdtbean@micheledawn1975

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fic #eddie x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson au #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x you

[rosewaterandivy]

1. not passive but aggressive

Summary: Rumor has it, that hometown hero-turned-teacher Steve Harrington is hot for teacher. The English teacher next door to him at Hawkins High, who also happens to be his childhood friend, that is.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x chaotic!dumbass reader

Warnings: No use of y/n - reader goes by the nickname Trouble instead, depictions of drinking to excess, cursing, questionable deflection tactics from reader, not so veiled references to BigDick!Steve, roughhousing (inspired by this scene from Just Friends), Steve’s inability to win a fight

A/N: Modern!Teacher AU, English teacher reader, History teacher Steve, slow burn, friends to lovers, romance. Here’s 3.3K of minor exposition and mostly chaos; feedback and reblogs are appreciated, enjoy!

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Then - Fall term, October 

The bourbon uncomfortably burned its way down your throat as you finished the glass. Sure, it was only slightly, but in your normal, non-drink addled mind, that enough was the signal for you to pack it up and head home. Your head cocked to the right as you meditated on the thought, before deciding against it.

You signaled to the barkeep for another round and mindlessly checked your phone. Nada, nothing, zip - of course no one was wondering where you were, you’re the “stable” one. Another glass was set in front of you, along with a bowl of pretzels and the advice to, “Eat something; I’ll call a car to take you home.”

A scoff came from your mouth as you lifted the drink to your lips, “I’ll car a call to take you.” Regardless, the pretzels looked somewhat appetizing and you grabbed a handful to shove into your mouth. You eyed the barkeep maliciously as they placed the call and continued to nurse your drink.

Nancy’s phone began to ring as she toweled her hair dry in the bathroom. Glancing at the number, she answered and placed the call on speakerphone, “Hello?”

She could faintly hear music making its way down the line, “Hi Nancy, this is Kyle from The Hideout. I’m sorry to inconvenience you, but a friend of yours is here right now and has been for some time.” He said, adding your name for good measure.

Nancy raised a brow, “Is she alright?” She cleared her throat slightly and wiped her palm against the mirror. “Do you know what time she got there?”

Kyle, the bartender on duty, sighed audibly, “I don’t know ma’am, she was here before I clocked in, I guess.” He sounded uncomfortable or annoyed, knowing you he was probably a little bit of both. “I’m only calling because I’ve cut her off and told her I’d arrange a ride home for her; I wanted to give you a heads up since the ICE contact wasn’t answering.”

“Okaaay,” she drawled, “That’s fine.” She wrapped the towel around her torso and made to open the bathroom door, “I’ll be there in a few minutes; thanks Kyle.” She ended the call and passed through the living room on her way to change. 

Steve and Eddie were zoned out in front of the TV watching something or other while Robin busied herself in the kitchen. “Hey Nance,” she greeted with a nod, “Everything okay?” 

Nancy threw a smirk her way as she entered her room, closing the door slightly to change. She rifled through her dresser and settled on wearing a matching set of work-out clothes and a black jacket. “Hey guys,” she called through the door as she stepped into her yoga pants, “I have to go pick-up Trouble at the bar and she’s not doing too well, according to bartender Kyle.” 

Nancy finished dressing and stepped into the living area of the loft. Robin was still in the kitchen, wiping down counters while Eddie and Steve had killed the volume on whatever they were watching. “Aww, she having a bad day?” Eddie asked in a curious tone, eyes glancing to Nancy.

She shrugged, “More than likely, yeah. I’m thinking she’ll have to crash here, if that’s alright with everyone?”

The roommates chorused their agreement and Steve turned the volume back up on the TV. Nance grabbed some keys from the table by the door and inquired as to what they were watching. “Rocky Horror!” Eddie blurted as Steve rolled his eyes and sighed. “It’s a bona-fide classic and he still hasn’t seen it.”

With a glance of pity directed toward Steve, Nancy opened the door. “Congratulations; see you losers in a bit.”

When Nancy arrived at the bar, she spotted you immediately because well, it was fairly difficult not to. Kyle, as promised, had cut you off and you did not take the news of that terribly well. You had turned into a slump on the bartop, “Kyle, my man, my dude, my guy,” you implored in earnest while making grabby hands, “How could you betray a bitch like that?” Your lips fell into a pout in a sad attempt to lure Kyle into serving you more bourbon. “Look at the-the uh, … bottle there. It’s so close to being a goner man, c’mon just do me a solid.”

Kyle, resolute in his decision, sighed and shook his head, “It’s still a no from me,” His eyes brightened as he spotted Nancy. With a nod to you he replied, “Nice effort though,” and brusquely went to serve other customers.

Nancy laid a deliberate hand on your shoulder, “Okay, time to go,” she chorused. Your face broke into a soft smile, “Natty Light! What’re you doing here?” Your speech was noticeably slurred but you seemed pretty content. “D-did I call you?”

Wrapping an arm around your shoulder, she maneuvered you into a standing position. “You did not,” she supplied while grabbing your purse and slinging it over your shoulder. “But Kyle over there did, said you’d need a ride home.”

At the mention of the bartender, you grimaced. “Oh, you mean Chairman Kyle of the Sober Socialist Society?”

Kyle, still in earshot, volleyed back, “I am not a Communist!”

“I didn’t call ya a commie, you dumbass!” you huffed, struggling to face him as you were being herded out the door, “I don’t know your personal political beliefs,” you babble, “We’re not that close!” You continued to grumble to yourself as Nancy led you through the door and onto the sidewalk in front of the bar. She guided you to the car around the corner from the bar, mindful as you teetered over the pavement.

It was a struggle to get you inside the car with the flailing legs and colorful epithets directed at Kyle, but she managed it. This night was not one of your best, but Nancy doubted she could get a decent answer as to why out of you in your current state. As she shifted the car into gear she also made sure your seatbelt was clicked in, and then proceeded into the intersection. 

Steve was in agony. 

Eddie had forced him into watching this overly saturated horror musical under some forgotten pretense. And eventually Robin had joined them, which somehow required Eddie to get her caught up on everything he’d missed. “Okay, so this sweet transvestite from transexual Transylvania, Dr. Frank-N-Furter, is like a mad scientist and creates their own companion ala Frankenstein.” Robin had nodded along diligently as the man enthusiastically explained the plot. “But there’s this storm and flat tire that waylays the sweethearts, right? And they have to seek shelter at Dr. Frank-N-Furter’s creepy old house for the night.”

Hearing the keys in the door, Eddie paused the film. “Oh thank god,” Steve sighed in relief. He ignored Eddie’s glare as Nancy entered the loft with you, currently slumped against her back. Next door neighbors and friends for as long as could remember, Steve is familiar with your antics and general lack of any self-preservation instinct; you’d somehow been even worse in high school, he shudders at the thought.

But rarely he had never seen you like this. 

All soft, pliable, and blinking owlishly as you raised a hand to wave at them, “Hey guys,” you rasp, clearly haven fallen asleep in the car on the way over. Scattered hellos filled the room and Nance deposited you on the couch with a, “I’ll be back with some water, you have to drink it all.” 

You nodded lazily and sunk into the couch cushions; they moved to accommodate you and Eddie started the movie again. “Ooh, I love this one,” you cooed. Cuddling into Steve’s arm, he smiled slightly listening as you softly hummed. 

Nancy placed a glass of water on the coffee table and mouthed ‘sorry’ to Steve before settling in on the armchair. You continued to chirp occasionally like a contented cat. He glanced up to find Eddie and Robin turned toward you in interest.

With a deep sigh, you murmured, “Now that right there, is a decent fucking man,” as Eddie, played by the late, great Meatloaf, made his grand entrance to serenade Columbia. Then your eyes drowsily closed and you fell into a light sleep against Steve’s arm.

It was clear that you were drunk, blissfully buzzed and tired. He didn’t mind that you’d all but melted into him and the couch, these things happen. With your head resting on his shoulder, Steve caught the palpable scent of bourbon as you dozed off. He continued to watch the movie, aware of Nancy’s gaze on you searching for any clue as to why you’d decided to get rip-roaring drunk like you were still an undergrad who didn’t get raging hangovers.

Nancy, observant to a fault, noticed that you’d fallen asleep on your right side, cheek nuzzled onto Steve’s arm. Your left side was exposed, arm resting on your hip and left hand startling free of an engagement ring. She drew in a short breath, and with a low growl said, “Oh, I’m going to fucking kill him.”

You awoke blearily, sun streaming through the windowpane and directly into your eye doing fuck-all for your plan to sleep in. It was cloyingly warm and your neck was starting to hurt, jaw hooked over the world’s most uncomfortable pillow it would seem. You’d have to talk to Nance about her interior design choices.

With a sigh, you rub your cheek against the fabric and blink open your eyes. Planting a hand firmly against the couch, you push yourself up only to hear a pained grunt. You pause and scrub your eyes with the back of your hand, only to find one startled Steve Harrington.

“Whathefuck,” you mumble out, voice gravely and low as you look around the room.

You vision swims and tunnels.

Oh, so you’re definitely hungover. Well, that explains the fact that you’re not waking up in your own apartment. Steve looks down right disturbed to be awoken in such a fashion, sprawled out on the couch in a rucked up shirt and jeans, wedged into an uncomfortable corner shoulder-first.

“You sleep in your jeans Harrington? Weeping christ.”

“Uh,” he stammers out, his voice lower than you’d ever heard, eyes wide and glasses eschew, “D’ya think you could move your hand?”

“Huh?”

You both glance down to find your hand resting against his thigh, not the couch like you’d thought, dangerously close to his crotch and–-uh, morning situation. Eyes nearly popping out of your skull, you abruptly move the offending appendage and clear your throat, heat rising to your face.

So, if the earth could like, cataclysmically end right now, that would be juuust great.

He hurriedly stands up, taking a pillow to cover himself. He runs his free hand through his mess of hair and slowly backs into the hallway, “I-uh-,” he stammers at you, “L-Lemme just get Nance.”

You don’t dare make eye contact. Only once you hear furtive whispers and the opening and closing of a bedroom door, do you breathe in relief. Shaking your head before you can think better of it, you pinch your eyes shut at the rattling pain in your skull. Elbows resting on your knees, you cradle your head and groan into your hands.

“Screaming into the void already?”

Nancy looks unfairly put-together, yoga leggings and an old Emerson college shirt graces her figure as she crosses to the kitchen. You, however, feel freshly regurgitated into existence and in all likelihood look like you’ve lost a fight with a rabid raccoon. Which tracks, depressingly enough.

She starts the coffee maker, shutting the pods into the machine with more force than necessary. “How many shots of espresso?” she chirps grabbing creamer from the fridge, shutting it loudly. 

You shudder at the noise and brace yourself for the clinking of spoons against mugs. “Ugh, twelve, please,” you say despondently and flop back onto the couch, hands covering your eyes. 

From the corner of her eye, Nancy sees you dramatically thrash against the sofa cushions. With a roll of her eyes, she dumps a few espresso ice cubes into a glass and shakes up the oat milk to pour over it. She hadn’t expected Steve to be the one staying up with you last night, you and Eddie had more of an affinity late nights and Rocky Horror. But, he had an early morning with the band and bowed out around midnight or so.

Apparently Steve had elected to babysit you on the couch, long after Rocky Horror had finished. She recalls you bullying him into watching High Fidelity and Empire Records before saying her own goodnights. Robin having trotted off to sleep even earlier. The morning sun basked in through the large interior windows of the living room, an abysmal heat accompanying it, which is apparently what woke you. 

She flicked the switch to the overhead fan and dropped a straw into the atrocious concoction you referred to as “coffee.” The espresso cubes had begun to melt, she’d only thrown in half the amount you’d requested. Swatting you to move aside, she placed the glass in your outstretched hand.

“Bless you Nancy Wheeler,” you intoned as you struggled to sit up. She pulled your arm and set you up against the cushions and pillows. You took a sip, smacking your lips as your thirst was quenched. 

Nancy huffed at your lack of manners. “So,” she sighs, “What happened last night?”

“Question,” you cut in and pause to take another sip. “Is Harrington licensed as an exotic animal handler?”

You’re ridiculous.

And that’s putting it lightly.

“What?”

You tongue the straw as it has seemingly escaped your mouth. Nancy watches as it travels from one side of the glass to the opposite before you give up and shove it into your mouth. She’s positive she’s going to lose it if you don’t get to the point soon, and it’s not even 9 a.m.

“Well, y’have to be licensed to handle exotic animals, like snakes and stuff.”

“Get to the point please,” she snaps.

Your eyes go wide, “Sheesh, okay. Forgot you were such a tightass in the mornings.” You take a painfully long sip, straw gurgling with the scant dregs of coffee that are left. “Stefano,” you continue, much to her exasperation, “I have reason to believe he’s harboring a fugitive.”

Nancy huffs inwardly, she really doesn’t have time for your classic deflections. But hey, whatever she had to do to get to you to spill.

It is at this precise moment that Robin makes her presence known, soft footfalls against the wood floor. She rasps a greeting and busies herself with the coffee grinder as you begin to speak again.

While she grinds the coffee beans, it’s impossible to make out what you’re saying, exaggerated gesticulations and all. The screaming motorized blades shriek their way across the apartment, eliciting a shout from Steve’s running shower, “God, what is that!?”

She hates you right now, well, you and Robin. The two current banes of her existence, one hungover and the other just a regular space-cadet. Rob is slumped over the counter wearing and ancient tank-top and what has to be the brightest pair of neon shorts known to man, Eat Me, emblazoned on the ass. Nancy is pretty sure she’d stolen them from you, actually.

Nancy hasn’t thrown up since Steve’s college graduation party, but this morning she just might out of sheer spite.

“Shut up,” you grouse in response, “Everyone fuck off for like, a second.”

Robin stops the incessant grinding of coffee, quickly followed by Steve stomping into the living room, fresh from the shower and pissed as hell; wet and shirtless, basketball shorts accentuating his slutty little waist. 

Nancy notices how quickly your face colors at his arrival, accompanied by an audible gulp. He snatches a mug from the shelf as Robin works the French press, closing the cabinets after her she chaotically yanks them open. 

She turns her focus back to you, eyes narrowing, “Out with it.”

Slurping loudly from your empty glass of iced coffee you shrug. “Well, you asked for it.” You set the glass down on the coffee table and roll your neck in preparation for whatever it is you’re about to say. 

Nothing good, probably.

“We need to alert animal control for the anaconda in Steve’s shorts,” you say airily, as if you were commenting on the weather.

Ah, so one of you classic deflection tactics it is then. Talk about literally anything else but the problem, bonus points if you can annoy Steve in the process. 

“The fuck!” Steve slams the mug on the counter padding over to the living room. Robin cackles in laughter, nearly spilling the freshly brewed coffee all over herself in the process. The look on his face should be enough to shut you up. Smug as all hell as he crosses his arms, purses his lips, and glances at your red face to Nancy’s blinking one.

“Harrington,” you declare, hoping your confident tone will throw him off, “Unless you can produce a license for your, uh, anaconda,” you pause for a beat, nodding to his crotch. “We don’t want none.”

“Okay, that’s it!”

He all but body slams you against the couch, Nancy barely making it out of there with the drinking glass intact. Your shriek makes him flinch only because of its sheer volume, but he continues his relentless assault nonetheless. The pair of you grapple like children on the sofa, hands scrambling against torsos and arms. The occasional thwack followed by a mocking, “Stop hittin’ yourself, stop hittin’ yourself!”

The two of you never did quite grow out of your competitive wrestling phase, it would seem. WWF was standard viewing between the pair of you growing up, Steve spending more time at your house than his own. Which eventually grew into weekend-long sleepovers in the basement and Eddie attempting to hotbox the supply closet as you all got older and rowdier.

You’ve launched yourself across the couch, impressive in your current hungover state, effectively pinning Steve underneath your legs and laughed maniacally. There’s a beat of silence followed by the unmistakable sound of a loogie being hocked as you attempt to snicker-snag him and dangle it above Steve’s face. He recoils in terror, mouth unfortunately open (despite Robin’s “Christ Steve, close your damn mouth!”) and attempts to squirm out from under you.

“What’s all this then?” Eddie asks as he rolls in from meeting with the band. Not even batting an eye at the tangle of limbs that had by now scrambled to the floor with a thunk. 

“Oh, the usual,” Nancy supplies, rinsing the few dishes in the sink and loading them into the dishwasher.

Robin laughs fondly, “Remember the last time they did this?”

“Mmm, sure do,” Eddie leans against the counter, nodding in thanks when Nancy passes him a cup of coffee. “Fratalina Wine Mixer of 2012.”

“No, it was the All Out 80s party before finals in 2014.”

Nancy sighs in exasperation, “Guys.” Robin and Eddie stop their bickering, looking to her, “It happened at both.”

Steve somehow gains the upper hand in the fall before you can snag him with loogie and an uncomfortably loud slurp echoes through the room. Nancy scrunches her nose in distaste as Robin films the entire tussle on her phone.

Steve throws his weight against you, hands pinning your wrists to the floor. His chest heaves taking deep breaths while he settles against your hips and thighs. “STOP MOVING,” he puffs out. You ignore his rough command and continue to thrash on the floor, face contorting in the effort. “I swear to god, if you don’t–”

Whatever Steve had planned to say next was cut off by your scream. You’d taken a deep breath in preparation and let loose the loudest caterwaul you possibly could. Steve pleads with you to stop and shut up, but you continue to scream unabated. Eddie snickers to himself, “That’s some real final girl shit right there.”

Eventually, Steve has no choice but to cover your mouth with his hand. You bite him in retaliation. “Shit,” he grimaces, retracting his hand and shaking it out, “D’you sharpen your canines or something?!” Before he can remember to secure your arms, you reel up with a grunt and shove Steve to the floor. 

“How the turn tables,” you taunt, reclaiming your previous position sitting on Steve, earning a snort from Eddie and Robin. He attempts to swat you away before you can begin to snicker-snag him again. You laugh and clamp your thighs tighter against his hips, the nylon of the shorts proving to be more slippery than you’d bargained for. 

Steve goes uncomfortably quiet and impossibly pink in the face as you situate yourself. Settling back on your haunches, you appraise him as he tries to look anywhere else; your eyes light up in realization. “Huh,” you grin, hands falling to your hips, “Didn’t know that was your kink, Harrington.” He groans and shoves the palms of his hands into his eyes, refusing to acknowledge the growing semi he was currently sporting. 

Unceremoniously, you slide off of him with a plop and cozy up against the base of the sofa. “Nance,” you grin, finger pointing to Steve’s shorts, “You never told me Harrington was packing.”

Swiftly, and true to character, Nancy levels you with “the look.” The patented dead-eyed Wheeler stare, known by all feared by few. To be fair, it’s only when she breaks out the snarl that you have to worry.

“You’re an idiot,” Steve mutters, eyes shut, “And I hate you.”

Robin wheezes, jostling her phone and panning to Eddie. He smirks, eyes sparkling with mischief, “Hey Siri, play Anaconda.” 

You jump up with more energy than you should have and cackle. Steve remains flat on the floor, much to your chagrin, as you bop along to the song. “This dude named Steven used to ride motorcycles / It's bigger than a tower, I ain't talking about Eiffel's,” you and Eddie sing out, Robin recording all the while.

Sure, you’re grinning and laughing now but it never truly reaches your eyes. Nancy half-heartedly sighs watching you dance around Steve’s prone body on the floor. 

It’s plain as day to her and literally everyone else that there is more than simply friendship between you and Steve. It’s obvious that he’s been smitten for a while now.

Well, obvious to everyone except you. 

For all your insight, you’re pretty dense.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #stranger things #reader insert #fanfiction #the kids aren't alright - rosewaterandivy #steve harrington x you

[palomahasenteredthechat]

Lady Luck

He's baaaaaack.

Just a dark little drabble to round out an uneventful weekend.

Warnings: 18+, MINORS DNI, M/F intercourse, suggestions of drug use. A whole host of sin.

The knock is expertly soft but insistent.

Turning his head, he smooths the wrinkles from his trousers and lumbers to standing, already unsteady on his feet. The drugs here pack a wallop and he keeps forgetting to halve his doses, but the nervous energy propels him forward until he hits the door. He fumbles with the chain and swings it open to reveal her, sucking in air through his teeth in approval.

She was exactly right. Long legs and curves, sexy but not tacky. Expensively dressed. He wondered if she was a dancer. 

“Come in,” he murmurs and she does, coolly taking in the view from the suite onto the Strip below. He steps toward the bar and trips, righting himself as he takes her elbow. “Can I get you a drink?” he asks and his words are almost slurring. 

“Let’s take care of business first,” she coos, taking in his unsteady gait, the sweat stains underneath his armpits on the designer silk. He nods. “Of course.” So it’s come to this. He fishes his wallet out of his pants and counts out the hundred dollar bills, handing her the cash and watches as she expertly counts it and puts it in her handbag. She takes out her phone and texts whoever was waiting, and looks up and smiles a megawatt smile, revealing ferociously perfect teeth. “I’ll take a bourbon.”

He turns to the bar and sources out a bottle of Woodford Reserve and shakily pours her a healthy two fingers of the amber liquid. I’ll probably pay for that too, he thinks. 

It was easier this way. No mess, no entanglements. No sneaky social media posts, hinting at something that wasn’t there. Angering Jules to the point of a heated argument in the rain whilst stuck on the freeway (that’s not why she was angry, whispered a voice but he pushes it back down into the recesses of his mind).

Regardless, Jules was gone, headed back to LA, and he was here, off the clock for a day or two until he was required to show up somewhere else and perform. Sin City at his fingertips. Would be a waste of an opportunity to simply sit on the couch and scroll through Raya until he’d satisfied himself.

He hands her the heavy tumbler glass and watches as she sips, confidently tossing her purse on the table and taking in the view. The back of her dress dips to the convex of her lower back, jutting out suggestively above her firm ass. Definitely a dancer, he thinks and he flushes, remembering.

She turns and takes in the burn on his cheeks. “Don’t be nervous,” she says. “I only bite if you pay extra.”

He grins. “I think I’ve got another hundred in my wallet somewhere.”

—---

She’s exquisite. He thrusts slowly, savoring the velvety sensations, amplified by the edible. He’s floating on a wave of euphoria, as the pleasure builds in soft waves. Her legs are wrapped around his waist and he runs his fingers along her thigh before squeezing it and raising her leg against his shoulder, followed by the other. She braces her hands above her head for support as he rises to his knees and speeds up, the force of his thrusts shaking the mattress against the headboard.

Sweat drips into his eyelids and he locks eyes with her, chasing his orgasm, already thinking about the next one. Once he gets going he can’t stop. His sexual urges have become kaleidoscopic, nonexistent one day and unceasing the next. There were days when he couldn’t maintain an erection and days when he was insatiable. Part of the thrill was the unknown each time he embarked on a new adventure. 

His hands shake as he gets closer, riding the edge of release, hoping to finish before the acid in his stomach rises into his throat. He holds his breath and wonders if he could get her to punish him. He does own her for the night after all.

She squeezes him with her pelvic muscles and he releases his breath in a sharp laugh as he ejaculates, slowing down and milking himself until he collapses on top of her. He grins and kisses the side of her face and she turns away. “You’re really sweaty.”

“Comes with the territory, love,” he whispers and then rolls off of her, mopping his brow with the sheet. “I’ll try to clean up before we have another go.”

“Sure,” she says. “I’ll be right back.” She rises and he watches her perfect ass as she goes into the bathroom. Suddenly exhausted, he flops back against the mattress and stares at the ceiling. The ringing in his ears sounds like the clang of slot machines, an echo of earlier when he sat at the blackjack table nursing a watered down drink, numbly watching the cards turn over as the dealer’s hands moved so fast they were a blur.

It was all a blur, come to think of it. It kept speeding up and he didn’t know when it was going to stop. But goddamn he was going to enjoy the ride.

It’ll be alright, he thought. I’ll be fine. He looked over to the bedside table to find his phone, because he wanted to text that thought before it slipped away, but she came back out of the bathroom and climbed on top of him before he remembered who he was supposed to text it to.

#fear and loathing #its fiction kids #fiction

[guardian-of-gotham]

@who-is-muses

When Harvey opened the door to his office on the first day of his new job, the first thing to greet him was a range of smells similar to a buffet table all set for Sunday brunch at a nice diner. The next thing to greet him was the sight of his best friend of several years, Bruce Wayne, turning towards the door in surprise after having lost track of time while obsessing over the smallest, perfectionistic details he wanted to get right before the other man arrived.

"Harvey?" Bruce glanced at the clock above the door, confirming that it was in fact time for his friend's shift to start soon. "Shit. Um... Surprise!?" Despite his own self-consciousness regarding his preparations, everything looked immaculate and over the top. Tea lights set atop miniature scales of justice were strewn about the room, safely distanced from anything flammable, of course, and a pair of detachable sconces containing a pot of algerian ivy were hung on the two side walls. Behind his friend's new desk was a large, round blackboard with "Congratulations Harvey!" written on it in an elegant font, and framing the whole thing was a giant golden laurel wreath. Off to the side was the true center of attention, though: a banquet cart supporting a larger set of scales, each tray laden with an assortment of food.

On the left, the dishes included grits and eggs with fried bologna, creamy mushroom and brie croissant sandwiches, bananas foster belgian waffles, cinnamon rolls, tahitian vanilla bean souffle with salted caramel anglaise, bourbon pecan cream cheese stuffed french toast, and buttermilk biscuits with sides of butter and sausage gravy. Underneath the tray, there was a chafing fuel can to keep everything warm. Such a thing wasn't present under the right tray, though, which contained chilled or room temperature foods, like chocolate-dipped strawberries, banana slices with a chocolate peanut butter ganache dipping sauce, coffee crumb cake, white chocolate raspberry scones, and a bowl of fresh raspberries and sliced strawberries with whipped cream. To the side of that tray, there was also a bucket of ice containing a bottle of Dom Perignon dated the year of Harvey's birth and a few pitchers of various juices. Meanwhile, the warmed tray had beside it a pot of coffee, a thermal carafe containing steamed milk, a tin of hot cocoa mix, a few jars of various syrups and toppings, and a ceramic cup containing a recently-made salted caramel latte with a laurel wreath drawn in the foam on top, a design which Bruce had spent months perfecting each time he made himself coffee at his own office.

Speaking of Bruce, the man himself looked nowhere near as elegant as everything he'd set up. Having gotten no sleep at all between the previous night's patrol and the extensive time spent in the kitchen this morning, his eyes were accented with a prominent pair of dark circles. He was sweaty and disheveled from running around to get everything done in time, leaving several strands of his otherwise slicked-back hair hanging in front of his face. To keep from over-heating, his shirt was only half-buttoned with the sleeves rolled up, and while his suit jacket hung neatly from the coat rack at the door, his tie hung loosely over his shoulders. He'd hoped to have the time to make himself look more presentable before Harvey arrived, but instead, he quite literally appeared to be a hot mess.

"Oh, um, these are for you!" Bruce blurted suddenly, stepping aside to reveal an ornate glass vase containing a bouquet of red and blue pansies on Harvey's desk. His new position also revealed a lock-picking kit he'd set aside there earlier, as well as a microwave and mini fridge tied up with red ribbon next to some filing cabinets against the back wall, but he was too tired and nervous about his friend's reaction to comment on, or even pay attention to any of that. A fiery pink haze spread across his cheeks as that nervousness shifted to embarrassment over the dawning realization that he'd likely overdone things.

"This isn't too much, is it?"

#who is muses #you absolutely should not feel obligated to match this length #i don't think I've ever spent this many paragraphs just describing things before #i also don't think i've ever done as many google searches for one starter/response as I did for this one 😅

[writingsoftheunderworld]

Purple Portals Are A Hazard OR How To Deal With AU Bullshit When It's Your Job Technically

Summary: Bonnie Bennett was enjoying a quiet day in, cup of hot cocoa in hand, fluffy blanket and her favourite comfort movie ready to begin when her best friend started spamming her phone. Damon Salvatore was dealing with a recent break-up, his first love turned current hell bunking with him for an as yet unforeseen time and a quickly dwindling supply of bourbon.

Neither were prepare for someone to literally fall from the skies - aka broom closet - today, but alas this is the hand they were dealt. Roxy, the having fallen out of a closet person in question meanwhile, seemed to be far more in her depth then anyone thought she should be and enjoying all of this way too much.

Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 5 Chapter 6

CHAPTER 4 (LINK TO AO3)

Bonnie felt like she was living a fever dream.

It had been a few hours since three people dropped into the Boarding House, one of which herself, and Bonnie had not yet found the mental fortitude to go back home. Damon was off somewhere in the house, likely pacing, but Bonnie preferred to remain in the library for a bit longer. It was quiet now, the whole house really, and she needed this small moment of quiet. She absentmindedly looked at the clock on the wall, sighed, rubbed her shoulders as a brief breeze chilled her and then settled back down. Caroline and Stefan should be returning soon, she knew, and she figured she’d be there to explain the situation since she couldn’t get the fortitude to go back home yet. Damon had offered her a room - her room from back in 1994 Prison World in fact - in case she wanted to spend the night, so she figured it wouldn’t be that big a problem. And the guests had gone away for now, settling in their new rooms themselves, packed close together, on the farther side of the Boarding House from the usual residents. Bonnie thought she saw Katherine stand guard around that area - the doppelganger was just as out of her depth here as Bonnie herself it seemed, and what did that say about Bonnie that she was comforted by the thought.

“Bon Bon, you ok?” Damon’s voice was low, barely above a whisper as he walked into the room, rounding the small staircase down to where Bonnie was sitting on an armchair. He looked better than he had some hours ago. He’d changed his shirt - donning a plaid shirt he’d scrunched out of the boxes in the attic after Bonnie returned home from 1994 - and it made her smile just a bit, to see that he too needed the comforting presence of the past sometimes.

“I don’t know.” she replied after a moments’ hesitation. She and Damn didn’t pretend with each other anymore, hadn’t since that day a month into 1994 when both had had a breakdown - or perhaps breakthrough - so she quieted the voice in her head that told her to make up something, to lie about being fine with what’s happened today. Damon nodded, squeezed her shoulder as he passed her by to pour himself a glass of bourbon, and then settled on the floor by her legs, his back to her knees and shins, head tilted to look up at her. Bonnie shifted in her seat to accommodate him, one hand falling into his hair and the other on the arm of her seat. If she was surprised by his actions she gave no indication outside of a soft exhale when he’d settled. Daon didn’t do this often, Bonnie knew, but he’d done it a few times in 1994 and once or twice since returning home - each time after a particularly grueling emotional day. 

“I think Roxy is married to me.” he mumbled after a quick swig of his glass. Bonnie just turned her gaze to him, eyebrows furrowed. “Her shirt. I own a shirt like that - small hole in the arm and all from where I got hit once.” he expanded and Bonnie hummed in understanding. She’d figured something had to be tied to him - Bonnie and Katherine had replicas, Damon couldn’t have had nothing right?

“Is that a problem?” she wondered aloud. She knew he wasn’t taking his break-up from Elena well. He’d been essentially blindsided by the whole argument that ultimately led to it - even if both himself and Elena agreed to split. In his words, the resentment had snuck up on him and he hadn’t realized how bad it’d gotten until Elena mentioned her father while coming back from a date night and he’d said something snarky in reply. Which only allowed Elena’s resentment to rise to the surface. In the aftermath, both had found themselves unable to continue the relationship and mourning what had once been a strong friendship, now in tatters. Neither was taking it well and couldn’t figure out where it had all gone wrong it seemed. Bonnie was wondering if either realized how little love they still held for each other when they spoke of it - she and Care had taken notice that’s for sure - but she sure as hell wasn’t going to mention it to him now or Elena when they saw each other again. It wasn’t any of her business ultimately, and she hoped they’d build themselves up on their own - they were both strong enough to do so.

“Mmm, dunno.” he slurred, not drunk, but sleepy it seemed. “I don’t know how I feel.”

“Well, are you sad about it? Angry? Happy maybe?”

“Bit of all, I think, but it’s muddled, like they’re all a sludge in my head, you know?” he replied. “Wonder what Stefan will think of this?” 

She let out a soft chuckle at the wiggling eyebrows he sent her way, and shrugged. She was wondering the same about Caroline.

                                                                                                                       

Roxy was in her designated room with Kat and Bonnie, acutely aware that somewhere very close down the hall was Katherine spying. She wondered if she realized Bonnie put a silencing spell over the room as soon as the door closed, but she probably did and didn’t care. 

“So the portals are blocked off now?” Kat wondered, settling on the bed, head resting on a pillow and body curling around where Bonnie was resting against the headboard. 

“Yeah, shouldn’t have anymore people falling through now.” Rox answered, jumping on the mattress at the foot of the bed then instantly regretting it as the four bags of blood she’d consumed made the room spin. There was a reason she didn’t like to overindulge on blood - it hit her worse than a kid of sugar high and crashed harder than one as well. “Ugh, I think Imma be sick.”

“Not on the bed, Rox” Bonnie cautioned, nudging her arm with her foot, no mercy in her bright green eyes. Kat laughed at Roxy’s pain and high-fived the witch, before resettling on the bed more firmly. Roxy turned on her side, facing her friends. She hadn’t meant for anyone else to get pulled through. She’d figure the portal would close once it pulled her in, like they usually did, and then keep her there for a couple of days of fun and spit her back out home with no one any the wiser. Now, with Bonnie and Kat here, it became clear this universe was a bit different. For one, time was still moving back home - not anything too special about that to be honest, but inconveniencing nonetheless - and the universe seemed to be hungry for more. She hadn’t lied to Damon downstairs, universes didn’t like outsiders moving in, but in rare cases, some universes took an almost malicious enjoyment out of dragging as many people through when they bumped together. And Kat had been pulled in as she was getting Irina from kindergarten, for fucks sake - her daughter, that she’d never thought she’d get a chance to have, even after Nadia had become a staple in Katherine’s life, who she’d given birth to and got to raise and love and spoil and watch her play with her much older sister and just be a part of her life. Talk about malicious. Not to mention, by all intents and purposes, Bonnie had been going on a date. Not another one and done night of fun, nor a quick time limit event until she left town again, but something that might actually turn into a long term partnership. She’d been meeting with Enzo, after all. Enzo, who she’d had a crush on for the past year, who, Roxy knew - from her husband, who was as irredeemable a gossip as Caroline no matter how much he liked to protest the fact - had had feelings for the woman for at least as long. And now both were stuck here, in an alternate universe, just because Roxy was a part of their lives-

“Hey! Stop that” Bonnie told Roxy, a frown on her face. A quick look at Katherine revealed she too seemed unhappy about where Roxy’s brain decided to go.

“Sorry.” the woman mumbled, falling on her back again. She could feel her heart beating - pounding in her ears and her chest so strong that if she didn’t know better she’d have thought the sheer strength of it was shaking the bed entirely - and the minute tremors in her libs as the blood settled slowly. She wondered if Kat ever experienced this kind of high - having become the type of vampire Roxy was nearly 6 years ago as a last ditch effort to save her then human, quickly aging life. Kat had never said anything the like and Roxy knew she drank far mor blood and far more often than Roxy did - she’d always kind of forgot she needed to drink blood for months on end only to nearly die from a papercut because she’d been this creature for so long she couldn’t be bothered to remember. “I’m really sorry, guys” she tried again, a lump forming in her throat and eyes closing as the sting of tears threatened to overspill. 

“We’ll get home, Rox, it’s fine. We always do when this happens, and it’s not like we haven’t done this before.” Bonnie reassured, leaning to hold Roxana’s hand and causing Katherine to grumble when her position lying on the bed was disturbed by the movement. Still, the other vampire extended her leg to push at Roxy’s, as though to reaffirm Bonnie’s words in the laziest way she possible could - she’d been more laid back since becoming another type of vampire, likely the lack of constant bloodlust and heightened emotion if Rox were to put an explanation on it. 

 “Plus, imagine the mess we could cause here Rox!” Katherine added, suddenly standing up. She waited for a reply, but neither woman was looking at her, so, hit with a sudden wave of energy, she settled herself over Roxy, framing her between her arms and knees, face leaning down. “Did you see the look on my face when we flirted?” she whispered, her body now flush with Roxy as the woman shook with barely repressed laughter.

“Sure did, why?” Roxy managed between giggles.

“I’m 500 years old and repressed in this universe Rox, I wanna blow her fucking mind!” she declared, before bending to kiss Roxy on the lips, closed mouthed, but clearly intimate, a grin pulling at the corner of her lips.

“Kat! I already told them I married into the Salvatores” Roxy admonished halfheartedly, laughter causing her to stutter. 

“You can still flirt though, not like we don’t do it with Damon or my hubby around, or like they complain.” Kat argued back, having allowed her weight to fully sink into Roxy’s body.

“Bon, bit of help here?” Roxy whined, pretending to struggle to breathe under Katherine’s weight.

“Damon doesn’t care. Nor does Hiro. Plus you two have a long standing joke of getting married, complete with wedding dresses already bought, Rox.”

“Traitor.” but she was grinning. “Plus I’ve made out with Kitty Kat before getting with Dee, so I guess it wouldn’t be lying to her per se?” 

“See, we can flirt as friends!” 

“What did I do to get stuck with you two?” Bonnie’s long suffering reply was the last straw, the three burst out laughing as soon as her words settled into the air.

“We’re home!” their laughter paused, Caroline’s voice carrying through to their room, then began again. Poor Caroline had no idea what she’d just walked into. And, as Roxy and Katherine’s eyes met, mischievous glints in their gazes, neither did Stefan. Bonnie almost felt sorry for their hosts as she trailed after her friends whose hands were intertwined, wry grin as she watched the Katherine of this universe nonchalantly descend the stairs after them to introduce themselves to the two new hosts.

#tvd #tvd fic #tvd fanfiction #bamon #bamon fic #bonnie/damon #damon x bonnie #bonnie bennett #damon salvatore #katherine pierce #original character #my writing #PPAAH

[your-dietician]

Cocktail Bars, Live Music and Buzzing Clubs Highlight Fort Myers Nightlife

New Post has been published on https://medianwire.com/cocktail-bars-live-music-and-buzzing-clubs-highlight-fort-myers-nightlife/

Cocktail Bars, Live Music and Buzzing Clubs Highlight Fort Myers Nightlife

Fort Myers and the surrounding barrier islands, offer some fantastic nightlife. A top stop for the party crowd wanting lots of options is downtown Fort Myers. The brick streets are lined with funky dens, wine bars, pubs and clubs. The area really gets cranking during the monthly Music and Art Walks.

Another hot destination for the bar-hopping bunch is Gulf Coast Town Center. Even though it’s extremely popular with the college crowd, there are spots that cater to every age and any taste; from Tequila bars to cigar bars, and piano bars.

Vacationers looking for a more relaxed island-style vibe will enjoy sipping a beer or cocktail at one of the many beach pubs on Estero and Sanibel Islands. If you’re looking for a party on Fort Myers Beach, the Cottage Beach Bar consistently delivers a good time. It’s directly on the beach with live music nightly, and it is right next door to the Spring Break party mecca of the Lani Kai Island Resort if you’re feeling adventurous. 

Whether you want to chill to live music or dance to a DJ, you’ll find a spot to embrace in this 10Best list. 

*Please note. Some of these establishments suffered damaged from Hurricane Ian, a category four storm that hit the area on September 27th, and may still be undergoing repairs.

Photo courtesy of Gina Birch

This is not your average pizza place, it’s a haven for karaoke lovers. A longtime favorite for pizza, for decades locals have also gravitated to this bar for late-night fun. Besides the cold drinks and friendly bartenders, karaoke is the main reason. It has become so popular that karaoke contests are often held here and when Broadway touring shows are playing at the nearby Barbara B Mann Performing Arts Hall, the professionals often stop in for a song or two, off the clock. This doesn’t mean that every singer who signs up here has talent, but they do have fun. In addition, the kitchen cranks out hot, cheesy pizza pies, New York-style; the perfect accompaniment to a cold beer and a night out.

Recommended for Best Nightlife because: A family pizzeria by day, packed bar by night, this is the place to be if you enjoy a good round of karaoke.

Gina’s expert tip: Tuesday is half-price pizza day. Check social media and website pages as specials are subject to change seasonally.

Read more about Mona Lisa Italian Restaurant →

Photo courtesy of Gina Birch

One of the first local breweries in the area, this one has grown to become the biggest and most popular by far. Expanding its facility in an odd, off the beaten path industrial park, Fort Myers Brewing Company has more than 20 taps, TV’s to watch your favorite sporting events and oversized games like Jenga and the bean bag toss, to keep you company while you sample the award-winning brews provided here. The atmosphere is laid back, people even bring their own lawn chairs to hang outside. Food trucks can be found along the narrow roadway so you can hang out here for hours without the pressure of having to fit into a “scene.”

Recommended for Best Nightlife because: A laid back, casual atmosphere awaits at the area first and largest brewery, with games, food trucks and fantastic beer.

Gina’s expert tip: Look for a Panther Crossing sign on Daniels Parkway as a marker for the turn to this obscure industrial park

Read more about Fort Myers Brewing Company →

Photo courtesy of Gina Birch

Adjacent to Twisted Vine Bistro, this bourbon and blues bar has brought a new level of “cool” to downtown Fort Myers. The space is cozy, with reclaimed wood, low lighting and a small stage that has been home to some of the best jazz and blues musicians in the area. The owners also have a knack for booking big names and Grammy-winning artists looking for a venue traveling between gigs in the bigger cities of Tampa and Miami. You’ll not only find an extensive selection of bourbon, scotch, whiskey, wine and other spirits but also small bites. The Barrel Room is a hot spot with sophisticated fun in Fort Myers.

Recommended for Best Nightlife because: For live music and an extensive spirit selection in a rustic setting, this is the place to check out in downtown Fort Myers.

Gina’s expert tip: Interested in listening to music over brunch? Check out the Jazz Brunch every Sunday

Read more about The Barrel Room at Twisted Vine Bistro →

Photo courtesy of Gina Birch

The owners of the Roadhouse have connections and they use them, to the extreme delight of music lovers. The family of famous trumpeter Louis Colombo, opened the cafe in 2007, inspired by their successful restaurant in Cape Cod. Colombo had quite a career, performing with legends the likes of Dizzy Gillespie and Tony Bennett. He spent the winter months in Fort Myers where he loved to get on stage at the Roadhouse, his famous friends did too. Colombo passed away in 2012 but his friends still come back and play in his honor. This is a great place to both dine and dance, catering to the over 40 crowd. Once inside this beautiful cafe, you’ll forget you’re in a strip mall in Florida, you’ll think you’re in the big city and have just hit the musical jackpot.

Recommended for Best Nightlife because: The Roadhouse is known for booking world-renowned jazz musicians in this classy, cool nighttime spot.

Gina’s expert tip: Make plans to eat here, the food is excellent and the menu wide-ranging.

Read more about The Roadhouse Cafe →

Photo courtesy of Gina Birch

The Cottage is cool, a favorite spot for locals year-round. As part of the more civilized and recently remodeled Gulfshore Grill, the Cottage is a casual, outdoor beach bar with an unobstructed view of the water. People come by car, by boat and on foot to party here. You’ll find live music at The Cottage just about every night. Sometimes the acts are solo and more mellow, other times full bands set up and rock the deck. At times you can also hear the music coming from the neighboring Lani Kai Resort, a Spring Break magnet. It’s fun to watch the madness from the safety of the Cottage deck, but also easy to walk next door and join the raucous celebration.

Recommended for Best Nightlife because: One of the most consistently popular party spots on the beach, no matter what time of year, for location, entertainment and the beach views.

Gina’s expert tip: Be wary of the “no parking” signs when looking for a spot here, beach towing is aggressive. Opt for the valet.

Read more about Shuckers at the Gulfshore and the Cottage Bar →

Photo courtesy of Gina Birch

This former Chinese restaurant has morphed into one of the most infamous local bars in the Fort Myers area. You’ll know you are in the right place by the giant statue of Buddha, sitting in the parking lot. A couple of things you can be sure of in this bar, the drinks are cold and cheap and the music is loud. Local bands love to rock here as well as those on the touring circuit. There’s something about the small dance floor of the Buddha that makes people get a little crazy. It’s not uncommon to see partygoers dressed in jeans and a T, jumping around next to someone in a polo or even in formal attire. Everyone is welcomed at the Buddha.

Recommended for Best Nightlife because: This rock-n-roll joint has cold cheap drinks, loud music and a space where everyone seems to fit in.

Gina’s expert tip: There’s a makeshift garden area in the back for those wanting fresh air.

Read more about The Buddha Rock Club →

You don’t have to wear cowboy hats and boots to get into this country-themed club, but you will fit right in if you do. You’ll also do well if you like to, and know-how to line dance. However, the Dixie, as locals call it, wants everyone to join the fun so they offer free line dance lessons at the beginning of the night. Dixie boasts the biggest hardwood dance floor in the area and also has plenty of room for live bands and other special events. If you don’t think you can handle country music all night long, then you’ll be happy to know that the DJ’s here love to spice things up with hip hop and dance mixes. In addition, there are drink specials and freebies almost every night of the week.

Recommended for Best Nightlife because: You’ll find more than just country music here, DJ’s, live concerts and lots of dancing has locals flocking here.

Gina’s expert tip: Have a designated driver if you plan to imbibe as police in the area have a fierce reputation.

Read more about Dixie Roadhouse →

Photo courtesy of Gina Birch

Gulf Coast Town Center (GCTC) is one of the hottest dining and drinking destinations in Fort Myers. The sprawling village-like layout has watering-holes in every corner making it a one-stop party shop. No matter what the crowd or what your mood, you are bound to find a suitable place to play here. Enjoy live music, cognac and premium hand-rolled cigars from The “World Famous” Cigar Bar, top-shelf tequilas at Cantina 109, or dealing pianos and dancing at The Keys Bar & Grille. You can even catch a movie here. GCTC is close to Florida Gulf Coast University so it’s a popular place for the college crowd, but with the sheer number of restaurants and bars, any age will find something enticing.

Recommended for Best Nightlife because: Gulf Coast Town Center has dozens of bars and special events, to make this a one-stop party place to suit any mood.

Gina’s expert tip: Check the website for free concerts and movie nights.

Read more about Gulf Coast Town Center →

Photo courtesy of GIna Birch

The Firestone is a four-story entertainment and restaurant complex in a historic building, facing the renovated waterfront in downtown Fort Myers. An express elevator at the entrance leads to the rooftop, the Sky Bar where some of the area’s hottest DJ’s keep the party going until the wee hours of the morning. The Martini Bar on the third floor is known to locals as the “Brick Bar”, with space for live bands as well as DJ’s. The bar has been renovated, and while it still has some of the old rustic feels, it is definitely posher. Check the website for an updated list of bands and expect to wait in line on a Friday or Saturday night

.

Recommended for Best Nightlife because: The four-story Firestone has something for everyone; dining, dancing, live music, DJ’s and a chic rooftop bar.

Gina’s expert tip: Parking can be a challenge so take advantage of the free valet service in front of the building.

Read more about The Firestone →

The Downtown River District of Fort Myers really comes alive during the monthly Art Walk (first Friday of the month) and Music Walk (third Friday of the month). Galleries, museums and shops stay open late, with special exhibits, activities and lots of music. During Music Walk performers and bands take to the streets and to dozens of venues, playing jazz, rock and roll, top 40 and everything in between. Just as fun as the street party is the extended bar hopping at popular watering holes like the World Famous Cigar Bar, Gotham, Ford’s Garage, Space 39, The 86 Room, Club Indigo, City Tavern, Downtown Social House and more. You’ll find a bar downtown to match almost any mood.

Recommended for Best Nightlife because: It’s the best free party in the city, on the doorsteps of some of the most popular bars and clubs in the city.

Gina’s expert tip: Street Parking is free after 5 pm.

Read more about Art Walk and Music Walk →

Read full article here

[chubbybuckydumpling]

Of Riches and Rings

words: 2.9k

pairing: Helmut Zemo x female reader

warnings: smut, fluffy smut, voyeurism, masturbation (m/f), oral (m/f receiving), blowjob, 69, choking, squirting, unprotected sex, porn without plot

A/n: As a celebration for reaching 500 followers, please enjoy this filthy Zemo smut :) Let’s hope the next episode still makes him likeable! Dividers by @firefly-graphics

My Masterlist

The clock is ticking with every passing second. Tik tok. Tik tok. His fingers tap on the crystal glass of expensive bourbon. The plushy armchair gives into his weight, forming nicely around his back. He checks his jeweled watch. It’s been 10 minutes. You’re taking too long. Tik tok. Tik tok.

He turns his head to gaze around the room, searching for a distraction, but he can’t get you off his mind. Inevitably, his gaze falls to his hand where an elegant ring dresses his finger. A soft smile plays on his lips, but it makes him yearn for your presence even more. Taking a deep breath, his eyes drift back to the clock on the wall. Tik tok. The seconds are passing. Tik tok. His patience is wearing thin, this is not what he had planned. An annoyed growl escapes his lips which surprises him. His self control is definitely slipping. Tik tok. Another minute gone by. Tik tok, tik tok.

“Alright, enough”, he grumbles, getting out of his chair. His tight black slacks cling to his legs, the dress shoes rounding out the look. He places his glass on the nearest shelf, the sound of his heels swallowed by the carpet. The dimly lit hallway carries him from door to door until he closes in on the bathroom. It has a kitschy postcard attached to it.

He can’t help but scoff, “Wash away your troubles? Really?” Reaching up, he is about to rip it off when he hears a sound. A low moan, to be particular. He stills completely, doubtful of what he heard just seconds ago. Just when he’s about to write it off as some weird hallucination, it happens again. His eyebrows raise, a smirk working its way on his lips.

Oh.

This is going to be fun. Carefully, he reaches out to turn the door knob until he can safely open it, just a gap, of course. He chuckles to himself, of course you didn’t lock it, little minx. Turning to peek in, he has to bite his lip to stop a groan. There you were, propped on the bathroom counter, panties discarded by your feet, fingers plunging into your pussy.

The squelching sounds mixed with your soft moans and frustrated whimpers makes his trousers tighten. He feels himself twitch, the sight of you, head thrown back in pleasure and eyes shut tightly. The amount of want that floods through his body makes him undo his fly, the tight material only falling down a little.

One of his hands wanders down his dark turtleneck and he reaches into his grey briefs to take out his half hard cock. He licks the thumb of his free hand, working his tongue around it to get it nice and wet. Once he is content with his work, he pulls down his foreskin and presses the shiny digit against the head, circling his slit. His hips thrust forwards and he has to grab onto the door frame. Shit.

He feels his cock fatten up, twitching in his hand while he slowly fists himself. His eyes are trained on your fingers, the way your core grabs onto them. He builds up a steady rhythm of squeezing his length and playing with his crown, teasing his sensitive head. It’s hard to quiet his sounds, but he’s used to controlling himself, reducing his urges to achieve his goals.

You, however, feel no need to be quiet. Your fingers don’t reach far enough and frustration, greedy want overcomes your senses. You groan, hips rutting against your palm. The pressure against your clit feels good, but it’s just not enough. Your free hand frees your boobs from the bra cups and you begin to squeeze your nipple, whining at the pleasurable pain.

He speeds up his motions, tightens his grip and lets his body take over. Your breasts are beautiful, the tight nipples hard against the cooler air. He feels his desire overcoming him, carnal want filling his veins. His balls tighten, abdomen contracting irretically. He feels himself twitch in his hand. The silky skin of his hard cock feels nice against his hand and he lets out a growl, little droplets of sweat forming on his forehead. The fabric begins to cling to his back.

“I hope you’re not planning on coming anywhere else but inside me”, your voice sounds strained, eyes trained on his thick length. The delicious view makes you lick your lip. He just grins, not surprised by your actions at all, “Wasn’t planning on it, sweet girl”, he replies, a soft smile on his lips. He collects all of his self control to tuck himself back, before he fully opens the door, moving closer to you.

He closes in on you, arms placed on the counter on either side of you. You pull out your drenched fingers to pull him closer, but he is faster, catching your wrist before you could touch him. Smirking, he draws your hand closer and envelops your coated digits with his mouth. He moans at your taste, tongue licking of every bit of your wetness.

You whimper, the sensation around your fingers with the knowledge of what exactly he is licking off makes your belly tighten. His gaze is still trained on you as he slowly pops your fingers out. His chest is heaving with his deep breath. He looks amazing, delicious even. You can't stop yourself for any longer and dash forward to press your lips against his.

The kiss is hungry, greedy. Your desire mixes with his while your tongues dance together. He licks into you, one hand coming up to clutch the back of your neck, pulling you even closer. A deep growl vibrates in his chest, everything about you is just so good. Your taste, the way your scent seeps into his nose, the feel of your tongue against his.

A feeling of desperation seeps into your body and you let your hands wander to the hem of his shirt. You let yourself explore his upper body, feeling his soft skin against your hands, all while he dominates your mouth. When the oxygen runs low, you part, immediately pulling the dark turtleneck over his head. He helps you remove it and chucks the expensive article behind him.

Instantly, his swollen lips are back against yours, more sensitive this time. He bites into your lower lip, dragging it a little before he lets it snap back. Aroused, he allows his hands to grip your waist with one hand while the other strokes over you, caressing your skin until he finds your breasts. He manages to rid you of your bra, your boobs falling free of the constricting material.

“You are so beautiful, mein Engel”, he whispers. You’re completely exposed in front of him while he is still half covered, what you desire most remaining hidden. Warmth rises to your cheeks, yet you don’t feel embarrassed. He’s shown you time and time again how much he desires you.

“What took you so long?”, the question falls from your lip and you can’t help but smirk mischievously at him. He pulls back a little, eyebrows raised, yet he can’t hide the smile on his lips. Not in front of you, “Well, Mrs. Zemo, I wasn’t expecting your toilet break to turn into this”, he gestures to your lower body, “Not that I’m complaining”

You giggle, grabbing his neck to pull him in for another kiss. He feels so good against you, his tight chest against your own breasts. His warmth seeps into you, blanketing you into a calming sense of comfort. He lets his arms surround you, pulling your body closer to his, directly onto his huge bulge. You gasp into his mouth, a strong tingling sensation running through your core. He groans at the pressure, pushing you right on him again.

“Fuck, Helmut”, you whimper, burying your head into his neck, “Please, I need you” He tightens his grip, growling at your words, “Then hold tight. Can’t just fuck my most precious on a sink now can I Engel”

He picks you up, holding you close. His arms strain a little, but you know he would never drop you. Navigating through the hallway he quickly moves towards your bedroom, opening the door with ease. His display of strength makes you clench and your want for him surges even higher. He lays you down on the king sized better, leaving you with a kiss to your nose.

“Beautiful”, he mumbles after taking a step back to observe you. With quick and precise motions, he strips himself of the rest of his clothing. His fully erect cock jumps up to stand tall and proud. You lick your lips with desire, the sight of your husband just always so arousing. Before you can mention how attractive he is, he drops down to his knees, hands parting your thighs.

“Look at you, so wet for me”, he drawls, eyes switching from focusing on your pussy to searching your face. Slowly, he lowers himself, his hot breath fanning against your exposed core. “You look so delicious”, he groans before he buries himself in your folds. His tongue teases your entrance, pressing against it, but never quite breaching. His nose bumps against your clit, sending a shock of arousal up your spine. You let out a moan when his tongue trails up higher, circling the most sensitive part of yourself.

Suddenly, he begins to suck the bud into his mouth and you gasp, back arching. You bury your hands into his soft hair, tugging slightly with need. He continues teasing your hooded bundle of nerves, but adds his fingers back inside you. With delicate motions, he strokes your velvety walls, reaching for your sensitive g-spot. A sudden cool sensation pushes at you and you realise it's his wedding ring. Clenching, you moan his name, needy; greedy. Your pleasure is ascending, the feeling of his flexible tongue with his talented fingers, you begin to shake, thighs trying to clench around his head.

“Fuck, please, I want to suck you off. Need it, please”, you whimper, tears blurring your vision. At your distress, he immediately perks up to check your face for any sign of discomfort. When he can’t find any, he coos, moving up to cradle your face, “Hey, shh, it’s okay, you’re okay”, he whispers, gently petting your hair, “You just want to have your mouth filled, ain’t that right?” You nod, leaning into the warmth of his palm.

He pushes himself further up the bed, laying on his back. His cock looks delicious, pre cum coating the crown. It has a lovely red colour, a beautiful contrast to his pale tummy. Helmut gestures towards his length, smiling at your sweaty face, “Take it then, mein Engel, but let me make you feel good too” His voice sounds strained, his need for friction obvious.

You crawl up to him, eyes trained on his heavy cock. Sniffling, you position your pussy above his face and lean down to take his hard length into your palm. Squeezing and turning your wrist, you tease him, enjoying the soft, veiny feeling of him. He moans and dives back into your pussy, licking and nibbling you so well. His fingers breach your stretched opening once more, his other hand grabbing onto your bum.

He kneads the soft flesh as you feel the ring that makes him yours again. A sudden flame of desire fills you and you envelope his cock with your mouth. Immediately, you press your tongue against the silky underside, your free hand, clad with your own wedding ring, massaging his full balls. He moans against your pussy, twitching inside of your mouth.

Both of you get lost in the pleasure, tongues licking and sucking greedily, fingers playing over your most sensitive parts. He begins to thrust up, his beautiful head hitting against the back of your throat, making you gag around him. He pulls off of you, breathing heavily, “You good?”, he forces out. You nod, pushing your hips back against his mouth. He chuckles, but goes back to work you over, sucking and tickling your hard clit.

You take a deep breath before you lower your mouth back onto him. You focus on inhaling through our nose as you go deeper and deeper until your nose scratches his trimmed pubic hair. He whimpers, moaning as you swallow around him. The vibrations feel so good against your core and you groan, egging him on even further.

His balls tighten, but he pulls you back swiftly, clamping his base tightly, panting heavily.

“Don’t want to cum just yet”, he groans. You whimper, so drawn to him, an overwhelming sexual tension tingling through your body. Electrified, you turn around, getting on your hands and knees, presenting yourself to him. Hearing him moan, you push your ass out even further wiggling slightly. His hands run up to your shoulders, starting at your cheeks, slowly roaming over your skin. His chest presses against you, cock jutting itself between your cheeks, balls against your wet entrance.

His hands run down your arms and he kisses at your neck, working his way to your pulse point where he begins to suck and nibble. You draw in a shaky breath, goosebumps rising all over your skin. You whimper, once more becoming teary eyed. He lets up bruising your skin, a lovely hickey already starting to form. “I love you, Mrs Zemo”, he whispers against your ear. Smiling softly, you turn your head, “I love you too, Mr Zemo” Your husband grins, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple.

Drawing back, he teases your slick hole with his wet head, slapping his length over your clit until you’re moaning for him to take you. Finally, he pushes into you, carefully at first, yet slowly bottoming out. Once he’s balls deep inside you, he lets out a loud groan as you feel him twitch. Involuntarily, you clench down on him, the feeling of being filled up just so perfectly satisfying.

He begins to pull out, only to push back in, gradually creating a fulfilling rhythm. His thrusts push against your walls so well, a delicious sensation that makes your eyes roll back into your head. Helmut’s firm hands run down to your breasts, squeezing and toying with them. It feels incredible, being touched and claimed all over.

His hips become faster, thrusts stronger. The sounds of skin slapping together, deep groans and growls as well as your own moans and whimpers fill your room, a beautiful song of pleasure and affection, a sonnet of lovers living out their desire.

He pushes himself up, the rhythm of his hips never faltering. With his weight supported solely by his knees, he pulls you up against his chest, slick bodies pressed against each other. His hand sneaks around your throat, tightening slowly. A shockwave of arousal consumes you when you feel the platinum of his wedding band against your sensitive hickey. “You feel so good around me, taking me so well, such a good wife for me”, he babbles, thrusts becoming more irregular, but harder, more determined.

“I want you to cum on my cock, can you do that, Engel?” You nod once he lets up his hold on your jugular, taking deep breaths. “Need you to say it, need to hear my good little wife” Panting, you gasp, “I will, please please please. I want it so, so bad” Suddenly tears jump into your eyes with desire and love for the man behind you.

Growling, he pushes you down into the mattress, your cheek pressed to the satin sheets. His hips grow even faster, pushing further, filling you up harder. The new angle makes him hit your velvety spot head on every time, pushing you into even higher layers of pleasure, but once he drops his fingers down to your clit, you crumble, desperately sobbing into the bed.

The coil and desire in your lower belly tightens. You begin to clamp around him uncontrollably, your entire body beginning to twitch with the anticipation of your upcoming high. “Shit, I’m gonna cum, ‘m so close, please let me cum”, you beg, convulsing around him. “Let go for me, Engel. Cum on my cock”, he rasps and with a particular hrd thrust, you break, cumming all over his thick length.

Thighs shaking and back arched you let the pleasure take over, all while your husband still fucks into you furiously, tight circles on your clit. With a few last pushes into your tight heat, strong and hard, he spills into you, filling your body up with his white, hot seed. The feeling of being stuffed with his cock, overflowing with the seed of the love of your life and the delicious pressure against your sensitive nub, you feel a new, yet so familiar sensation overflow you.

Screaming his name, your pussy flutters while you gush around his pulsing length, drenching him with a mixture of your and his orgasm. Convulsing one last time, the final gush of cum squirts out of you. Helmut carefully pulls out of you and watches as your core clenches, trying to keep his seed inside you.

Drained and exhausted, you collapse on your side, eyes shut. Your legs twitch with the aftershocks of your orgasm, but you’re too fucked out to notice. Warmth and safety consume you when you feel your husband’s arms wrapped around you, his face against your neck, “I’m so proud of you, Engel. You did so well”, his breathing isn’t quite back to normal, the intensity of his orgasm left him a little drained and floaty as well. “Hmm, thank you”, you mumble, cuddling back into him, “I love you” Your heart flutters when you feel him smile against your skin, “I love you too. So much”

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[heynikkiyousofine]

A Deal With A Demon

Summary:  Kagome’s struggling to keep her family’s bar afloat after her mother’s death. One night, a demon makes a deal, intriguing her to change her life.

Trigger Warning on this fic! I'm so sorry I forgot to mention it before, there is an attempted assault in the first part. 

Part 1 l Part 2 l Part 3 l Part 4

ao3

Dedicated to my dear friend @enchantedink-ag Much Love! 💕

Three days had passed and Kagome had returned to work, everything seeming normal again. Koga hadn’t returned, but Ginta and Hakkaku had once, apologizing for their friend. She merely smiled, gave them a round of drinks and sent them on their way. She hadn’t told Sango yet either about Inuyasha, but had told her about Koga pushing his luck and that he was no longer allowed back in her bar. Sango hadn’t taken that very well and wanted to kill him.

She looked around her bar, the empty stools feeling more and more like a death sentence these days. She had decided to visit her father today and he wouldn’t even look up from the television at her, his hand wrapped tightly around a handle of vodka. She hadn’t stayed more than five minutes, only to bring in the mail and take out the trash. She had almost begun crying when she saw the shattered picture frame of her parents in the trash. Removing the photograph, she tucked it in her back pocket before dropping the trash out the back.

Back at the bar, she reached in her back pocket, pulling out the worn photograph once more. Staring down at the woman, she brushed her fingers over her face, sniffling a bit. Mama, I miss you. Her mother had passed almost six months ago and because of her focusing on the bar, she hadn’t really had time to grieve. Her father’s drinking had run the business into major debt and she hadn’t even heard from her brother since New Years. Wiping a stray tear from her cheek, she folded the photograph back up, slipping it back into her pocket. Grief sure has a funny way of presenting itself.

Glancing at the clock, she figured someone would be in shortly for a nightcap and decided she could go ahead and start on her front of house inventory, keeping an eye for any patrons. Grabbing the clipboard and a pencil from the office, she heard her front door chime, signaling a customer. Putting on her best smile, she headed back behind the bar, ready to serve the patron and gasped at the man who walked in. Inuyasha frowned at her as he took a seat on the closet bar stool.

———————————————————————————————————

“Why were you crying?” He asked, glancing at her hand. “Is it your hand?” He reached forward, his clawed fingers grazing her palm softly, she trembled and pulled her hand back in shock. He stood quickly, knocking over the stool and backed away. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have, uh, done that.” He muttered.

She could see he was panicking and held her hand up.

“Wait! I’m okay, look.” She set down her clipboard and pulled the bandaid off, showing a solid pink line that had formed over the cut. It was still a little tender, but she had pulled away because she liked the way her body reacted at his touch. She realized he thought he scared her or was disgusted by her. “Your claws just tickled a bit.”

“Tickled?” He stared at her in horror. “My claws don’t tickle.”

“Well, they did me.” She giggled at his horrified expression. “Your face! I’m so sorry!” She began to laugh louder and he smirked, sending butterflies in her stomach.

“Tickled. Alright.” He shrugged, shaking his head, smiling at her softly as he bent to pick up the knocked over chair.

“Bourbon again?” She asked, reaching for the handle.

“Nah, it’s not my favorite. I prefer scotch, Macallan or Johnnie Walker if ya got it.” He mused, setting his chin in his palm.

“I got you.” She smiled over her shoulder, pouring him a double of Johnnie Walker Black. “So, um, how have you been?” I’m an idiot. The demon who saved my life just arrived back at my bar and I asked how he has been. Kagome, ya idiot. He smiled at her and shrugged, despite her inner turmoil. 

“You gonna tell me why you were crying earlier?”

“I asked you a question first.” She smiled ruefully, leaning on the counter in front of him, sliding his drink.

“Technically, I asked first as soon as I walked in.” His fang peeked out over his lip as he leaned forward towards her. She held her breath, staring into the golden depths of his eyes as if they were baring his soul. She slowly leaned closer, feeling his warm breath on hers. Is he going to kiss me?

Suddenly, he blinked quickly and leaned back, bringing his glass to his lips and she shook her head.

“I was crying because I missed my mother.” She whispered, her mind focusing on the almost kiss.

“Your mother passed away?” When she realized he was still talking, she blinked, missing his question. When she looked at him confused, he laughed softly and repeated himself.

“Oh! Yes, she passed over six months ago, from cancer. My father, he hasn’t been okay ever since.” She looked down at her fingers tips, picking at the bar top. She really needed to refurnish it, the wood was deteriorating after all these years.

“I’m sorry.”

She looked up suddenly, surprised. People have been saying sorry, most not really caring and the few who really mattered to her had yet to really listened to her about it. Sango just tiptoes around the subject and her boyfriend Miroku, she didn’t really know all that well yet. Her cousin, Kikyo, came for the funeral, but like her brother, hadn’t spoken to her since the holidays.

“Thank you.” She whispered, smiling for him softly. His apology seemed genuine and while she was thinking him, she realized something. “Can I ask a question?”

“Haven’t you been asking them already?” He smirked. Glaring at him playfully, she waved her hand mockingly.

“How come I’ve never seen you around before?”

“I ain’t your normal demon. You remember when that scum was here trying to hurt you and you prayed for someone to help?”

“So you’re like a kami or a deity?” She asked, surprised.

“Nah, just a demon who makes deals. You made a deal and paid your debt by pouring me a drink.” He crossed his arms across his chest, letting it all sink in. She hummed, nodding her head and turned to grab her clip board. Figuring he would be the only bar guest tonight, she began to count her inventory.

“Does that not surprise you?” He asked after some time.

“You remember what I said the other night? He’s not the first demon to visit my bar, plus with the way my life has been going, I’m not surprised anymore.” She shrugged, writing in her numbers. She heard his soft hum and continued to count. They spent time in easy silence and she briefly wondered to herself when she was that comfortable with anyone, besides Sango, like this.

“Where is your dad?”

“Hmm?”

“Your dad. This is your family’s bar, so why isn’t he here helping?”

“He didn’t take mom’s sickness too well, his drinking got really bad after her death. He barely leaves his chair anymore, drinking handles of liquor a week.” She set her clip board down, staring at the clear liquid in the closest bottle. She sighed, her heart breaking a bit as she swallowed the tears that threatened to fall. Turning towards Inuyasha, she poured him another drink, putting on a smile for him.

“Why do you do that?” He whispered, his voice laced with curiosity. She looked at him, tilting her head, having no clue what he meant this time.

“You put on a fake smile, when everything is clearly not okay.” He murmured, leaning closer on the bar top again.

She had no idea what to say. That fake smile she used a lot for her guests, especially when they were particularly annoying. That was part of a being a bartender, so she shrugged, unsure of how to explain. Ever since her mom got sick, that smile had been her mask, keeping people at an arm’s reach.

“You don’t have to do that with me.” 

Her shoulders sagged and she smiled for him, a genuine smile, relieved. Why am I so comfortable with him? He’s a stranger and yet, I feel safe, like he wouldn’t let anyone harm me. He smiled back softly and Kagome began to feel a sense of peace for the first time in a while.

“Are you staying long today?” She asked, reaching for a glass to pour herself some water.

“I can’t for much longer, but I was passing through and saw you, so I thought I would check in on you.” He shrugged, getting to his feet, throwing the last of his scotch back.

“Will I see you again?” She asked quickly, her heart lurching.

“Maybe, depends on if you need a deal or not.” He smirked, his fang glinting again the light. She shook her head and grabbed his empty glass, wiping the bar top of any stickiness. When she looked up to say bye, he was already gone. Smiling to herself, she went back to counting her inventory, determined on getting home at a decent time tonight. 

———————————————————————————————————

Pulling the mail form her box, she sighed as more red letter’s were stamped on white envelopes. Past due, past due, respond immediately, past due. Can’t I ever get a letter with some good news? Gathering the bills under her arm, she closed the metal door, turning her key to lock her mailbox. Heading up the stairs to the third level, she felt her phone vibrate in her pocket as she reached her floor. It’s after two am, who is calling me?

When she glanced down at the phone, figuring it was a drunk dial, she ignored the random number and inserted her key into the door, careful to be quiet in case Sango was already sleeping. Opening the door, she heard the television going softly, and glanced around the corner into their small living room. Sango was sleeping, leaning against Miroku’s shoulder. He glanced at her and held his finger up, Kagome smiled and nodded.

She headed towards the kitchen, figuring a nice cup of ramen noodles would be good for a quick dinner before bed, tossing the bills on the counter. I can deal with those later. She set her phone and keys next to the pile, not seeing another phone call coming from the same unknown number. She filled the kettle up with water, setting the pot on the stove as she turned up the heat. Grabbing the instant ramen down from a shelf, she didn’t hear her phone buzzing a third time. She leaned against the counter, waiting for the water to heat, thinking about a hot shower to soothe her muscles.

After a moment, the kettle began to whistle and she poured the scalding liquid into the styrofoam cup, closing the lid. Soft footsteps came from behind her and she looked over her shoulder as a sleepy Sango, followed by a grinning Miroku, walked into the kitchen. 

“Just get home?” Sango murmured, rubbing her eye, yawning.

“Yeah. Headed to bed?” She smiled at the two. They were really a cute couple, he helped keep her level headed. She was going to tease her for sure for falling asleep on him. Before Sango could answer, the home phone rang and Kagome frowned. Who calls this late? An equally frowning Sango reached for the phone, answering promptly. Kagome checked her ramen, waiting for her to tell her who it was, when Sango’s faced paled, her grip on the phone tight.

“Kagome, I think you should take this.” She whispered. Miroku stepped behind her, squeezing her shoulder in support. Kagome’s forehead wrinkled as she grasped the phone from her best friend and answered.

“Kagome Higurashi? We’ve been trying to reach you. There’s been an accident, it’s your father.”

taglist: @enchantedink-ag @yukinon-writes @jeremymarsh @thejustmaiden @sailorbabydoll92 @loveinu40 @knittingknots @dawnrider @moonandwind @lavendertwilight89 @malditamigs @coyfoxmama @hazelhalfpint @sailorlolo @liz8080 @eriimoonsstuff @gottalottasocks @swaggingtomboy @kalcia @splendentgoddess @wheremydreamsliethereyoullfindme @elcubanpapi13 @kawaiichan67 @mandirox89  @banksdelivers @sorayastrife @abominablesnowpickle @joaniemae @sheremylunadandelion90 @babeewiththepowerr @betrosed @misteria247  @bluejay785  

#inuyasha #inuyasha x kagome #kagome #inukag #mirsan #dealwithademon #part2of4

[wiypt-writes]

Sunny Side Up

Summary: Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, right? And for Mike, there’s no better way to start it than by eating his favourite thing, ever.

Pairing: Mike Weiss x Reader

Warnings: Smut (NSFW, 18+) Brief mentions of drug addiction- nothing graphic. Language!

A/N: So this was what popped into my head after seeing @imanuglywombat​ post that damned latest Sex Position as part of her downright filthy and wonderful “Is That Even A Sex Position” weekly challenge. This position is called “The Special Breakfast”. See here for more information. And you can totally blame @sweater-daddiesdumbdork​ for this one. I wasn’t gonna write it but…yeah, I did. Sorry not sorry.  I’ve tried to make the reader as non-descript and as inclusive as I can but I don’t usually do reader x fics so I apologise if it hasn’t quite hit the mark.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar the reader.  By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Tagged my permanent tag list.

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********

“No, that’s not the same, at all.” Mike’s voice drifted up the hallway of you house as you closed the door behind you, shutting out the bitter January wind that has descended over Dover. “Yeah, well they signed up to the terms so....”

You glanced at your watch, it wasn’t even seven-AM yet and he was already on to someone about the current case he was working. But then, that was Mike all over. An addict, only now you were glad to say the only thing flooding his system was adrenaline and passion for his work.

You hung your jacket up on the pegs by the door, unwrapped your woollen scarf from round your neck and placed that over the hook above your jacket and then reached down to unzip you boots, before toeing them off. Your sock clad feet padded down the wooden floor of the hall towards the kitchen and you walked in to see Mike was bent over a file on the island in the middle, already dressed for the office.

“Clause ninety-one, paragraph twenty, sub-bullet two. Yup. We’ll present that to them today, give them chance to respond.” He paused for a moment, his head turning to you, a warm smile spreading across his face as you leaned over for a quick peck before you headed to the fridge for a soda. “Yeah. Okay, no problem, see you about half eight.”

With that he placed the cordless phone down and turned to face you.

“Morning, Baby.” He grinned, before he nodded to the Diet Coke in your hand. “Interesting choice of drink for breakfast.”

“Technically it’s not my breakfast time.” You shrugged back. “More like dinner, I suppose.”

Mike chuckled as he crossed to space towards you, his hands falling to your hips before he bent down and brushed his lips against yours in a hardly there kiss. “Good shift?”

“A heart attack, car accident, two broken legs, couple of flu cases and a shit tonne of idiotic drunks, the finest Delaware has to offer.” You shrugged. “Usual shit.”

“I don’t know how you do it, Dr Y/L/N”

“Lucky for you I do, or we’d have never met.”

“And I’d be dead.”

“Don’t.” You shook your head, swallowing a little. The memory of that night almost eighteen months ago was still raw. If you hadn’t stopped by at Mike’s that evening following an argument the pair of you had earlier in the day, you’d never have found him almost dead from an overdose. It had been a long road to recovery, and whilst nothing was ever proven, Mike and Paul were convinced that it was something to do with the safety needle case they had been working. Despite the fact that there was enough heroin in his system to stop his heart, Mike swore blind to you he hadn’t taken anything but a few lines that night, and there was something about the way he said it that made you believe him. And so did Paul.

The authorities never managed to prove anything, but there was one good thing to come out of it. When you had broken down and told Mike how scared you’d been that he was going to die and that you couldn’t cope anymore with the constant fear that one day he would kill himself for real, it gave Mike the final kick he needed because he didn’t want to lose you.

So he got clean. And this time he did it for good.

It wasn’t easy, for either of you. Once he was medically fit enough, Mike had been placed on a programme at a Rehab Centre, whereby he saw no one bar trained medical specialists and councillors for six weeks. It felt like the longest six weeks of your life but he did it. And when you went to pick him up, you instantly burst into tears at how different he looked, how better he looked, how healthy he looked.

The road to recovery is a long one, paved with temptations, you knew that being a Doctor. And whilst Mike knew and understood his triggers thanks to his programme, those temptations met him everywhere, especially because he knew exactly where and how to get his fix. So the pair of you agreed to take a fresh start. You traded Texas for Delaware, the State you were originally from, and you were beyond proud to be able to honestly state that Mike Weiss had been clean now for eighteen months. Well, apart from alcohol that is. But even that was enjoyed in moderation, and to be honest, you’d rather him sit at home with a glass or two of bourbon each night that sticking fuck knows what into his veins.

You cocked your head to one side as his hands flexed on your hip and he gave you a little side smile. “Sorry. Oh, hey guess who I got a call from?”

“Who?” You asked as he stepped back, grinning.

“The Alligator Farm. Snappy’s got himself a lady friend. They’re gonna send me some photos and stuff.”

You smiled, giving up that beloved alligator had been a hard sell to Mike. “That’s great.”

“Yeah. Oh and Paul was thinking of coming over with the family in the spring. I said they could stay here, I know it’ll be a squeeze but is that okay?”

“Course it is.” You reached up to cup his cheek. “It’ll be lovely to see them again.”

Mike smiled and dropped another kiss to your lips, this one slightly stronger before you pat his chest as he rest his forehead against yours.

“I need to go shower.”

“Want me to come join you?” He asked, eyebrow raised and you smiled.

“As good as that sounds there’s something else I want more.”

“Oh yeah?” He grinned, his eyes flickering down to the buttons on your blouse and you laughed.

“Calm down, Stud. I want pancakes and bacon, I don’t give a shit what time it’s supposed to be for me.”

Mike groaned as you moved away from where you’d been stood with your back to the large, stainless steel fridge and headed out of the room. He watched you go, the gently sway of your hips in your well fitted black pants made his groin twitch. He was half tempted to fuck your demands and go and jump you in the shower whether you wanted him to or not, but he’d seen the flicker your face had given when you’d described how your twelve-hour shift had gone down. Despite your blasé tone, he knew you too well and understood exactly how tired and stressed you were feeling. So, instead, he turned his attention to making breakfast.

Something he prided himself on was his cooking ability. He’d picked it up pretty fast since you’d moved here, he found it was a welcome distraction, so much so you very rarely made meals now, bar when you insisted on doing a roast which he never argued against.  Within fifteen minutes he had a stack of pancakes, bacon, eggs- sunny side up, as you preferred- all laid out on the island and ready for you to help yourself to. He’d just poured you an orange juice when you walked back into the kitchen, hair piled on your head in a messy bun, wrapped in a dressing gown and he was pleased to see you looked relaxed.

“Oh, Mikey, this looks great!” You smiled as he wrapped an arm round you, kissing your head. He watched as you helped yourself to a huge plateful before making your way over to the table and sitting down with a sigh. Mike tucked his tie into his shirt to avoid it dropping into his food and plated himself a helping up before he sat down at the place next to you, cracking his neck slightly. The pair of you chatted about the day ahead, which for you consisted of sleeping until it was time to get up for your next shift, Mike’s contained a meeting with a company who he was currently in the process of negotiating a settlement with on behalf of a client. When you’d finished, Mike made to clear away the dishes but you gently placed your hand on his arm and stood up, insisting on doing it as he’d cooked.

When you returned to the table, Mike pushed his chair back slightly and patted his knee.

“Come ‘ere.” He smiled softly and you grinned, settling yourself on his lap sideways, your arm looping round his shoulder, fingers gently playing with his suspenders. He gave a contented sigh as he wrapped his arms around you and pressed a kiss to your head, happy to simply be close to you for a moment.

“You doing okay?” You asked and he smiled, your words carrying that hidden meaning- ‘Do you want a fix, today?’

“I’m good, Babes.” He pulled back to look at you. “I promise.”

Smiling you gently placed your lips on his in a soft kiss, which soon became heated as Mike’s hand slid up to the back of your neck, holding you in place as his tongue slid along your bottom lip. He was pleased when you reciprocated, opening your mouth slightly to allow him in. He could taste the sweetness of the syrup on you from your pancakes and, as your tongue gently swirled against his, he let out a little groan from the back of his throat and he felt you smile.

“How long till you have to be in the office?” Your voice was lower than you’d intended, betraying exactly what you had in mind and Mike grinned at you, pulling back a little, as he glanced up at the clock.

“Just over forty-five minutes, why?”

You bit your lip, fingers toying once more with his suspenders which were clipped to the waistband of his light, grey trousers and sat over a maroon shirt, set off with a black tie. “Do I gotta spell it out to you, Weiss?”

“No, I just like hearing you beg.” A cheeky glint flashed in his eyes and you gave a snort.

“I do not beg.”

“Really?” He arched an eyebrow and in a swift moment he stood up, causing you to give a shriek of a giggle as he sat you on the table in front of him. “I bet,” he pushed on your shoulders causing you to rest your weight on your elbows as he loomed over you, gently reaching for the tie on your robe, “that I can have you singing my name and begging for more,” his hands made quick work of the knot and pulled it open, before his fingers slid up the front, opening it to leave you bare in front of him, “in less than five minutes flat.”

“Less than five minutes?” You looked up at him, his eyes blown with lust and you smirked. “You’re so full of shit.”

He wasn’t though, you knew full well that you were the one full of shit. Mike had on many an occasion had you crying his name in less time than it took you to sing a verse of the National Anthem, and he knew it as the cocky expression on his face showed.

“Oh, Baby Girl.” He chuckled, bending over, his mouth brushing against that spot on your neck, the bristles of his short beard scratching your skin. “Have you learnt nothing, yet?”

“Only that you’re a cocky little bastard.” You tried to keep your voice level but it didn’t work. Your words came out a shaky whisper as one of his hands gently splayed on your stomach and brushed up your body to your sternum as he peppered hot, opened mouthed kisses across your collar bone, before his lips ghosted up your neck, over your chin and his mouth claimed yours in a searing kiss as his hand palmed at your breast. As he rolled your nipple between his finger and thumb you gave a moan and he smirked against your mouth.

Suddenly, he was gone from over you and you frowned, missing his sudden presence and you propped yourself up on your elbows to see him settling back in the chair by the table.

“Mike, what the-“

You were cut off as he reached over, grabbing your ass and hoisting your pelvis up, pulling you towards him. Before you could register what was going on, your legs were over his shoulders and you just caught a glimpse of his face, as he quirked an eyebrow at you, lips curled upwards in that maddeningly smug bastard grin, before his mouth was trailing up the inside of your thigh.

“Oh, Jesus.” You let out a little groan as he neared the place you now desperately wanted him and he chuckled.

“No, just me.”

“Fuck off you-“ But whatever it was you were going to call him flew from your mind as his tongue licked up your sex, and grazed against your clit, teasing it with quick, hardly there flicks which, you were ashamed to say, had you riled up something feral. His hands palmed at your ass, his fingers curling round the outside of your thighs as he quickened his movements, his mouth expertly devouring you, tongue flicking into your entrance as his lips circled that sensitive nub, giving a suck that made you cry out, your back arching off the table, pushing yourself further onto his face.

Mike let out a chuckle which vibrated exquisitely against you and you gasped again, your hands slapping onto the cool surface of the table, fingernails feeling the grain of the wood as he upped his efforts dramatically, lips and tongue teasing you in a way that was so delectable it was teetering along that fine line between pain and pleasure. His mouth expertly devoured every inch of you, from your inner and outer pussy lips to the depths of your walls, tongue fucking you like you he was starving, despite the breakfast the pair of you had eaten moments ago.

“Fuck, Mike, I need…” Your voice was croaky, the words sounded far off as they bounced around your lust addled brain and once again he chuckled.

“I told you.”

“Yeah, yeah you arrogant sh-oooh fuck!” You cried as he gently nipped your clit. “Shit!”

You were willing yourself to remain grounded, wanting to prove him wrong but you couldn’t. You couldn’t fight the urge you felt to ride over the edge which was building like a fire inside you. When his mouth was over you completely once more, tongue deep, you felt him move one of his hands and his thumb pressed against your clit, before the pressure eased off and his tongue slipped away.

"Okay, okay you win, Mike, please for the love of God!” You groaned and with a final, maddeningly smug chuckle he dove back in, only this time when you felt your orgasm brewing he didn’t stop. One of your hands flew to his hair, pulling lightly on his soft, spiky strands and he gave a growl as you tugged, his efforts doubling once more as his beard scratched against your sensitive pussy and inner thighs. The coil in your belly was tightening, your entire body quivered and with a final flick of his tongue you gave a cry as your orgasm crashed over you. Your toes curled into his back just below his shoulders, your own back arched as your walls clamped down over nothing, the room fading out as everything went silent and the lights erupted in front of your eyes, your entire body feeling like you were floating.

Mike grinned, guiding you through your release before he stood up, pulling you further to the end of the table as he undid the flies on his trousers, freeing his painfully hard erection. The swollen head of his dick gently swirled around your folds before he buried himself inside you, groaning as he felt you fluttering around him in the after throes of your orgasm. You let out a low groan and finally opened your eyes, looking up at him as he pounded into you, fully clothed, those fucking suspenders that drove you wild still looped over his shoulders.  

He slid one, large hand under your back and pulled you up causing you to cry out as he drove deeper into you, his hand on the base of your back pulling you up and towards him as he dipped his head to give you a dirty, sloppy kiss whilst he rolled and thrust into you. Then His lips moved down, nipping at your neck, his breath hot on your ear as your head fell back, a low moan rumbling in his throat.

“God, I love seeing you like this, fucking wrecked all because of me.” His panted words made you groan even more as the heat in your groin was beginning to mount again. “Makes me higher than any fucking drug ever could.”

His thrusts continued, hard, deep, and you felt his dick throbbing inside you as he drove up against your spot, his lips back on yours as he kissed you hard, swallowing the pants and whimpers you were making as you began to teeter on that cliff edge again. With a deep roll of his hips you let out a low wail and came, once more, your core spasmed around him as your entire body tingled, and that was enough for him to follow you. With a powerful thrust he stiffened, a low grunt stuttering from his lips as he pulsed inside of you, his hips growing sloppy before they stopped completely. His chest heaving, he pressed his forehead to yours, the pair of you gasping for breath as you came down from your high.

“Shit, Mike.” You managed to stutter as he grinned, his lips meeting yours in a soft peck. “That was…”

“Yeah, I was pretty good.” He chuckled and you slapped his arm as he moved and pulled out of you. You straightened your robe and stood up, wincing as you felt his release trickled down your inner thigh.

“I need another shower.” You grumbled, before you glanced at his crotch, the damp patch where he’d pressed against you was clear as day. “And you should probably change your trousers.”

Mike glanced down before his eyes met you, and he shrugged. “Maybe I won’t. Maybe I’ll go into the office like this and then every time I see it I’ll be reminded exactly what a damned good breakfast I had this morning.”

You blinked before you shook your head, scoffing. “You’re gross.”

He laughed. “You love it, Sweetheart.”

“I love you.” You corrected, your hands sliding up over his shoulders and he smiled, a pure, innocent smile that made him look like a schoolboy before he took your face in his hands and kissed you deeply, pulling away, his nose bumping against yours.

“I love you too.” He whispered, his eyes locking onto yours. “Now go, before I decide to play hooky for the day.”

“Don’t tempt me with a good time, Weiss.” You smirked, before with one final quick peck you left the room.

Mike watched you go, before he ran his hands through his hair and turned to glance around the kitchen, his eyes falling to the table he’d just fucked you senseless on.

He should probably clean that before he went to work…

#uglywombatsexpositionchallenge #mike weiss #mike weiss x reader #mike weiss x you #mike weiss reader insert #reader insert #mike weiss fanfic #mike weiss smut #chris evans #chris evans characters

[butwilltherebealcohol]

I’m not striving for doing anything right, I'm not even pretending I can uphold that standard anymore- At this point I’m just praying every godforsaken morning I wake up that I don’t fuck up and/or piss somebody off that day. that’s all I ask

I'm working up the nerve to end myself y'all, I promise, I know i KNOW everyone wants me gone. just give me some more time, more booze, and more isolation. I'm almost there.

#tw suidical #tw depression #sad drunk #bourbon time 'round the clock #this made sense in my head #kill me please #tw

[mirkosintern]

Crawlin’ back to you

pairing: dabi x fem!reader

genre: smut with a lil angst and fluff if you squint

notes: reader is a member of the lov, set in the meta liberation army arc (before the war!), possessive dabi, wowee this is my first work!! I never expected myself to be able to write a piece but here we are ehehe this was inspired by a certain tiktok actually. U may have already noticed but the title is from the song do I wanna know? by the arctic monkeys<3

warnings: 18+, unprotected sex, breeding, cum play, dubcon-ish?, toxic relationship, degradation, vulgar language, alcohol

word count: 3k

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That the nights were mainly made for saying things that you can't say tomorrow day Crawlin’ back to you Ever thought of callin’ when you've had a few? 'Cause I always do Maybe I'm too busy bein’ yours to fall for somebody new Now I've thought it through

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Dabi wasn’t one to do feelings. He’s screwed numerous women, but they were nothing more than some toys to fulfill his sexual needs. Neither did he want to have feelings, nor did he need to. Afterall, his side hoes who begged to stay with him even after all the degradation he’s given them disgusted him the most. He would snicker at their pathetic attempts and cut them off ruthlessly.

However, you were an only exception.

No, he did not have feelings for you, he swears he never did and never will. But you were different from his other disposable sluts--he kept you around. He didn’t ghost you, instead, he kept coming back. It is only because you’re a member of the lov as well, he thinks. You are easy to access since you’re always around the lov base, and he doesn’t even have to worry about getting caught by civilians or stupid bitches who suddenly decide to turn him into the police. You guys were practically co-workers with benefits, fuck buddies where the “buddies” part is questionable.

Dabi didn’t mind that he made an exception for you until that night. That very night where you sleepily decided to crawl into his arms after a rough round and whispered him how you loved the rough texture of his skin against yours. That very night where you pressed delicate kisses beneath his jaw. The moment of intimacy—making his heart pound and warmth spread beneath his cold skin—was threatening. You were threatening.

That’s where he cut you off completely. He did not knock on your bedroom door located in the lov base anymore. He stopped sending those “you up?” texts at 3am. He didn’t even lock eyes with you or talk to you anymore.

It feels as if something heavy dropped inside you, squashing your heart to the point where it’s painful. You try your best to ignore the pang in your chest and remind yourself that you guys were nothing more than co-workers with benefits. However, the enduring heartburn only functions to make you realize how attached you were to him. He’s Dabi, the biggest scumbag you will ever meet, what did you expect? What were you thinking? It should be no surprise this happened, right? But having to encounter his stupidly handsome face every day was not doing any help. You are a girl with dignity, you tell yourself, trying your best to ignore his strong scent of campfire and cologne drowning you every time you guys are in the same room.

The pain is suffocating you for weeks, and you finally decide to completely get over him. The night Dabi brings a bimbo to his room and fucks her loud enough for everyone in the lov to hear—for you to hear—you’re done with everything. You step outside, get drunk, do anything to numbify the pain the raven-haired guy has caused you, and even meet a nice-looking guy who seems to be interested in you.

You are doing good without Dabi.

You don’t need Dabi anymore.

You are not letting him get to your head.

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A party.

League of villains is all about privacy, but they also started having some fun after uniting with the meta liberation army. Now they had sufficient money, people and place to throw parties every now and then without the danger of getting caught by civilians. Afterall, a number of heroes were in their side as well.

“Not gonna lie, you guys do know how to host parties.” Keigo smirks, picking up a glass of bourbon whiskey. “It’s fuckin’ lame,” Dabi answers as he downs a glass of liquor.

“So, what happened with y/n?” Keigo throws a suggestive smile.

“The hell you mean what happened with her?” Dabi frowns.

“Y’know, didn’t you guys used to be a thing or something?”

“Nah, she was an occasional fuck and that’s it.”

“Oh really? The Dabi I know never fucks a same bitch twice though. I thought she was something special.”

“Special?”

“Yeah, thought maybe you actually wanted her.”

A smug grin appears on Dabi’s face. “Never even liked her.”

“Have you seen her and her new boyfriend?”

The smile is quick to vanish from his face after hearing the word boyfriend. Dabi’s eyes widen, immediately glaring at Keigo. Before he could say anything, Keigo tilts his chin to point something.

“There they are.”

Dabi turns his head only to find you clinging onto some guy’s arm. Your cheeks are flushed –a pretty, pink glow on your face—as you bat your eyelashes at the guy. Bubbly giggles escape from your lips while you stare at him through half-lidded eyes. The guy’s arm is secured around your waists, pulling you closer to him.

Dabi sees red.

His entire body freezes as his grip around the liquor glass tighten. Dabi doesn’t say anything for a moment, but there is no way Keigo wouldn’t pick up how his cerulean eyes are flaming at the sight. “Well, I thought you knew.” Keigo pats Dabi’s shoulder. “Wouldn’t matter anyways right? You never liked her.”

“…Right.” Dabi takes another sip from the liquor, his eyes still fixed to you.

Keigo’s words are true; at least they are supposed to be true. Dabi didn’t have feelings for you. He doesn’t do romance. No feelings were ever involved with any of the women he’s slept with, and he made sure of it. It was so clear for Dabi without a question.

But why is it unable for him to erase the sight of you with some guy as he forces himself to sleep that night? Why are your sweet giggles echoing his head? Why can’t he get rid of the thought of you in that tight, black dress that perfectly complements the curves of your body? Why is the moment where the guy places his hand on your inner thigh replaying in his head? Why are thoughts of you messing with his mind?

“Fucking hell.”

Dabi gets up. This was fucking annoying. You were truly fucking annoying.

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You tilt your head to check the glowing digits of your digital clock on the nightstand. 2:15am. It’s late, and you haven’t even taken off the dress you wore to the party. You are too tired both physically and emotionally. You’ve done quite a decent job in entertaining the man who’s accompanied you through the whole party, but it was truly an energy-consuming task. You and him walked around as if you guys were the happiest couple in the party; but the truth is that you guys aren’t even properly dating yet. Solely because you have constantly been refusing to properly answer him asking you to be his girlfriend. It’s not that he’s bad looking or anything, but the idea of being with him just doesn’t sit right with you. Ever since you’ve met him, he couldn’t keep his hands off you without asking you anything about consent. You always had to pull his hand away with an uncomfortable smile, yet he never took a hint. However, when a dating rumor about you and him started and spread quickly, you didn’t try to correct anything. Maybe it was because you wanted to pull out a reaction from a certain villain. Maybe your unusual actions at today’s party; clinging onto the guy and laughing at every single word he spoke; was to make Dabi witness how happy you were.

 Truthfully, you were dying inside.

 What was even worse was that none of your attempts seemed to bring an ounce of reaction from Dabi. When have you become so pathetic and desperate? You feel tears welling up in your eyes, hot and burning, but you don’t want to cry. Not for an asshole like him. You take out your phone, find the guy’s name, and text him that you don’t want to see him anymore. You feel a little guilty, thinking that you may have used him to provoke something from Dabi, but your thoughts are too worn out for you to comprehend anything. You flop onto your bed and bury your face in your pillow. You huff out a deep sigh, and the soft texture of your cotton pillow feels warm on your cheeks. In all honesty, you were thinking about Dabi the whole time you were at the party. Whenever the guy’s hand creeped up your thighs or gripped on your ass, you imagined it was Dabi’s, trying your hardest to feel something from the contact.

 You weren’t over Dabi. You never were. Realization hurts, leaving a sour feeling in your mouth.

 Your body shoots up at the sudden, loud slamming sound emerged from your door. Your teary eyes widen at the lean man slamming the door shut. “Dabi?” You ask, not believing your eyes. “What the hell are you doing here?” Without an answer, Dabi’s one hand reaches for your throat as his other hand grips your wrist. His large body is towering over you, and you feel your bed shift as he dips one knee in the mattress. His sapphire eyes pierce through your soul, and you can feel his raging anger just from looking at him.

“You’re such a pain in the ass, y’know that?”

“Dabi, what are you-“

He doesn’t let you finish the sentence, pulling you in for a heated kiss. Your lips open reflexively, enabling him to deepen the kiss. The kiss is aggressive, and he doesn’t know whether it is because of his anger or his pent-up desires towards you that he has been suppressing. The kiss gets sloppier over time, hot and wet with saliva and tongue. He lets go of the grip on your wrist and starts tracing your inner thigh with his thumb, and you let out a soft moan. You finally pull away from the kiss to catch your breath, but he doesn’t cease to caress your thigh. Instead, he lowers himself to your ear. “You seem to really love thigh touches, don’t you?” His low voice and hot breath brushing the shell of your ear sends chills down your spine.

“Huh?”

“I always knew you were a slut, but never knew you were this much of a whore. You would bend over any guy who offers you some touches, right?”

Tears swell in your eyes again at his vile words, but it’s hard to talk when his knuckles are repeatedly brushing your clit.

“I’m… not a slut…nngh.” Suppressed moans escape your lips.

“Yeah? Why are you making those sounds then?”

“Dabi…”

He yanks your dress up and dips two fingers inside your lace panties, making you let out a weak yelp. Dabi raises his brows with a smug grin on his face.

“Oh, so she indeed is a slut huh? You get this fucking wet from a kiss?”

His two digits start pumping inside you, and you grip on his white shirt at the sudden sensation. Your gasps and moans get louder, and you suddenly feel his wet lips against your neck. Dabi sucks hard, making sure to leave dark purple marks from your jaw to your neck and shoulder, as he repeats the step of curling his fingers and pulling them inside and out your hole. “Dabi…too fast.” You whine out. “Yeah?” A sadistic grin appears on Dabi’s face. “Be a good slut and take what I give you.” His thumb reaches for your clit, making your legs shiver.

“Nngh…stop, I’m gonna… Dabi I’m gonna cum.”

“Stop? You want me to stop?”

“No!”

“Do you deserve it though?” he slows his pace while teasing your clit. “Beg.”

It’s humiliating, really—but do you have any other choice when you are this close?

“Please, Dabi… I’ll be your good slut. Please let me cum!” Your desperate cries have him pumping his fingers fast again, and soon you’re seeing white. Hot drops of release coat Dabi’s fingers as he pulls out.

“Say ah.”

“A-ah.”

You obey, and Dabi sticks his digits inside your mouth. Your mouth wraps around them immediately, sucking as if it’s a pacifier. “Good girl,” Dabi says as he pats your head, and it makes your stomach swoop with sick pride.

The bulge in his pants is becoming painful, and he contemplates on fucking your mouth. But he’s too impatient; He feels the need to abuse your cunt right now. He wants to hear your screams and cries as he proves who you belong to.

“Take that off.” Dabi gestures at your dress, and you start undressing as he demands. Dabi pulls down his sweatpants and boxers, causing his cock to spring out. It’s so pretty, you think, and you can’t help but admire his red tip, glistening with precum. He pumps his length a few times and lines it up with your entrance. You inhale a sharp gasp as you feel his whole length inside you. It feels so full; it feels as if he’s gonna split you in half if he starts moving.

“Ah, too big.”

“I know.” Dabi looks down on you. “Take it like a little slut you are.”

Before you could even talk back, he is moving inside you. Your moans blend with the noise of the bed creaking; a perfectly harmonized orchestra to Dabi’s ears.

You knew Dabi wasn’t one to prep you or go slow, but you feel like he’s going way rougher than usual. His wild thrusts have your head lolling backwards, and Dabi does not miss the chance to take a hard bite on your neck. You scream out of both pain and pleasure, and you feel two hot streams of tears on your flushed cheeks.

“Aww, she’s crying.” Dabi says in a mocking tone. “Bet you love the pain.”

Humiliation fills your chest and you turn your head away, but Dabi quickly grabs your chin with one hand, forcing you to directly face him.

“Who’s the one making you feel this full?” he asks.

“Y-you.”

“Did he ever make you feel this way?”

Wait, he? Who does he mean by he? Your alleged boyfriend? Could it be possible that Dabi was doing this out of jealousy? You try to comprehend, but it’s impossible for you to think clearly, not when Dabi is fucking you stupid. “No!” You shout.

Dabi’s free hand reaches for your clit and starts rubbing circles. “Tell me, who does this pussy belong to?”

“You…” You try to answer, but he suddenly lifts up your lower body and slams into your cervix in the right angle. It has you moaning even louder, your insides spasming around his cock.

“I can’t hear you.” He smirks sadistically.

“You, Dabi, it belongs to you! I belong to you!” You’re screaming his name like it’s the only word you know, making his cock twitch. “That’s right. You are all for me, all for me to use. Just a pathetic little slut for my cock.” A satisfactory grin appears on Dabi’s face.

Dabi lowers his body down and grunts directly into your ear as he thrusts even faster. The sound of his skin slamming into yours is so erotic, and you can feel how close you are.

“You wanna cum huh?” His words have you nodding frantically, babbling incoherent words. Yes Dabi—wanna cum so bad—wanna be yours—wanna be your good girl—please, dabi.

“Then do it. Make a mess on my cock.”

“Nngh, Dabi!” You scream out his name as euphoria washes down your body. His release follows you soon enough, painting your walls white. You feel warmth filling your belly while his groans echo in your ear. You’re still sobbing and panting after he pulls out, without any energy left to move. As your blurry vision starts getting clearer, you feel his warm skin and the sting of his cold staples against your back. His long arms wrap around your oversensitive body, pulling you closer to him.

“You’re messing with my head.” Dabi rests his forehead on the back of your shoulder.

“Huh?”

You’re confused, but Dabi doesn’t elaborate. His ego doesn’t let him do such thing.

“When you said you belonged to me, did you mean it?”

You bite your lower lip, not knowing how to respond to his sudden question. Millions of unspoken words and feelings are hanging in the back of your throat, creating a huge lump. You swallow them all and spit out a question instead. “Do you want me to belong to you?”

“Yeah.” Your eyes widen at his unexpected response, butterflies fluttering inside your chest. “Be mine.” His low voice vibrates against your soft skin. Your heart melts at his words, and you cannot stop your feelings from overspilling anymore. At that moment you both realize; you and Dabi were meant to crawl back to each other, no matter how hard you both try and struggle.

“I’m yours.” You smile, “I’m all yours.”

#dabi x reader #dabi x y/n #dabi smut #bnha x reader #bnha smut #mha x reader #bnha x y/n #touya x reader #touya x y/n #todoroki touya x reader #dabi #todoroki touya #dabi lemon #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #dabi fanfic #dabi fic

[angryschnauzer]

Blackwater Lake - Chapter 2

Summary: There’s a little town high in the mountains where everyone has a secret, and every family has something that makes them unique. In Blackwater Lake those that are outcast by nature come together.

Characters/Pairing:  Vampire!Walter Marshall x Female Reader

Warnings (for this chapter); Talk of PTSD, Reader is ex police, Possible home invasion, NSFW sexy times, protected sex.

Previous Parts: Werewolf!Sy: Moonlight on the Sand  Castle Under The Stars.  Werewolf!Sy, Vampire!Walter: Chapter 1

This will be a series of stand alone stories/2 parters, which will revolve around the residents of the town, with some recurring characters. The ‘reader’ for each story will be a ‘new’ reader, so its not the same woman being with all the male characters.

I do not run a tag list, but please follow @angryschnauzerwrites​ and put that blog onto notifications. You’ll then get an alert every time i post something new.

Chapter 2

Walter had managed to recover from the shock of seeing his best friend and his wife being able to make their eyes glow, and as unbelievable as it sounded, had accepted their explanations of how they’d been turned into Werewolves. Much like his own knowledge of Vampirism before he had been turned himself, he quickly understood that what the media made these quirks of nature to be and what they actually were had been greatly exaggerated. 

Sy had stayed up into the early hours of the morning with him, sharing the better part of a bottle of bourbon as he’d described how it affected their family, and how his wife only turned when her period coincided with a full moon, and how they dealt with childcare during the times that they would turn. 

-

Walter woke with a start, the soft mountain light pouring in the windows and for a moment he was confused, not recognising his surroundings until he remembered spending the rest of the night on Sy’s couch. His mouth felt like something had crawled inside and died, and he swore in that moment not to share hard liquor with someone that could howl at the moon. Finding some painkillers high in a kitchen cabinet he crushed two between his teeth before drinking straight from the tap. Standing tall he moved his neck, trying to get the kinks and knots out of his muscles when a pair of fluffy slippered feet appeared in the doorway. Looking up Walter poorly suppressed a laugh as he saw Sy wearing a pair of sheepskin moccasins and what was obviously his wife’s robe;

“Reginald, you look stunning” Walter muttered as he watched his friend shuffle into the kitchen

Sy held up his finger and waggled it, wincing at the sunlight pouring in the window;

“Don’t…”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t call me that, the only people that call me that are the preacher or my Ma, and unless you’re planning on marrying me or making me biscuits...”

Walter laughed, leaning against the counter as Sy filled the coffee pot as if he was on autopilot, before reaching into the refrigerator and pulling out a baby bottle with the previous day’s expressing date on. Setting the bottle to warm in a bowl of water he handed Walter a tin of coffee;

“Fill that up, i’m gonna go get Luna”

A few minutes later he reappeared holding his little girl in his arms, wrapped in a soft blanket covered in moons and stars. Grabbing the bottle before settling at the kitchen table, he popped the lid off and shook the bottle, before lifting it and shaking a few drops onto his tongue, laughing when he saw Walters eyes go a little wide;

“Better straight from the source but Mama is sleepin’ so its me in Mama’s robe” he explained with a grin on his face. Walter placed a mug of steaming black coffee in front of Sy; “Thanks man… hey, in the fridge there’s a pint of pigs blood from Walkers Meats… ya’know, if you need it”

“Why have you got pigs blood?”

“The missus was gonna make some Scottish thing, some sorta sausage, but if you need it, we can always get another… in fact she’s gonna be too tired to use it before it spoils, what with the full moon and all...”

Sy turned his attention to his tiny daughter feeding in his arms, giving Walter the sense of privacy to do what he needed to do. As Luna finished her bottle Sy held her to his shoulder, rubbing her back until she let out a burp he would have been proud of himself, only looking up when he heard Walter also let out a low belch;

“You need me to rub your back too Walt?”

“Fuck off Sy” the vampire said lightheartedly, a sense of relief in his mind now that the guy that had become one of his best friends knew his secret.

-

Pulling the last crate of bottles off the back of the pickup you thanked the guy from the craft brewery and waved him off, taking a deep breath before slowly climbing the fire escape at the back of the bar that led into the storeroom. It had been a long shift already, starting at 10am you’d opened up and started the ovens, restocked the bar as the cleaners had come through and cleaned the place top to bottom. Your boss was always decent to his staff, paying a good wage and having the cleaning crew come in during the closed daytime hours rather than in the early hours of the morning.

Working around them as they did their job, you restocked the caddy’s on the tables with silverware, napkins, and condiments, before returning to the bar and checking on the ice machine.

“Hey we’re all done now” one of the cleaners said as you looked up.

“That’s great, thanks. You guys always make this place look good”

Chatting with them you walked them through the storeroom - something your boss always insisted on that any non bar staff had to be escorted through - before one reached for the wooden rail on the fire escape. Something made you stop talking and before you could stop yourself, one hand was pushing one of the guys back into the storeroom, the other was grabbing the shirt that was already standing outside. Just as you did the rail slipped away, as if in slow motion, the three of you looking in fear as the heavy wood crashed twenty feet below onto the empty kegs that were stored beneath.

Speechless you stood there, fingers still curled around the shirt of one, hand splayed across the chest of the other;

“Fuck” you whispered quietly, not to anyone in particular.

“You could say that…”

-

Having made sure both cleaning guys were ok, if a little shaken up, you made them leave by the front door then considered your options. Dialling the boss you weren’t surprised to hear it ring out before going to voicemail. He had strict downtime rules, and was more than likely out on his ranch land taking care of his horses. Knowing he trusted you to make the right judgement, you scrolled through your numbers and dialled Marshall’s Property Maintenance;

“Marshall’s, what can i do for you?”

“Hi, i’m calling from Big G’s Sports Bar? We’ve just had the handrail fall off our fire escape. Wondering if you’ve got space to fix it this afternoon?”

There was a pause before you heard a long exhale of breath;

“Yeah, sure. I’ll be there in twenty minutes”

“Thanks Walter”

Hanging up you smiled. You’d worked with Walter when you’d been on the police force, you’d been a patrol cop that would assist with crime scene control and you’d been first on the scene for countless horrific acts of violence. One final call had given you PTSD so bad you’d resigned, finding a home in the small town of Blackwater Lake and a steady job at Big G’s Sports Bar. Your boss was the big quiet type, liked to spend more time out on his ranch with his horse, having enough trust in you to run the day to day operations of the bar as his assistant manager. 

-

It had been well past 9pm when Walter finished the repairs. Your boss had come in and helped him out when he’d got your text, leaving you in charge of the first few hours of opening. When the two men reappeared through the storeroom you smiled at them, getting ready for the evening handover before grabbing your coat and clocking off.

A few minutes later as you hopped off the last step of the fire escape onto the dandelion scattered gravel - your boss liked to let them grow - you smiled at Walter as he was loading his tools into his truck;

“Hey, thanks for today. Really saved our bacon… without the fire escape we wouldn’t be up to code so couldn’t have opened”

“S’ok. Glad you called” Walter admitted; “It’s been a while…”

Scuffing the gravel with your boot you swallowed the lump that was in your throat;

“How have you been? Since… ya know…”

“Alive. Wouldn’t be here if it hadn’t of been for you and your partner”

“We did what was needed… not every day you see va…” you stopped yourself, you still hadn’t completely come to terms with what you’d seen; “V...vagrants doing that… I’m just glad we got there in time…”

There was a moment of awkward silence before Walter rounded the truck and stood in front of you;

“Do you need a ride home? Your boss mentioned that you walk to work and you stayed late where he was helping me get this fixed”

“Thanks, that’d be nice”

-

Over the next few nights Walter would appear at the bar early evening, usually under the pretense of checking the work on the fire escape or dropping off the bill to the office, and you quickly clocked that he would always be leaving just as your shift was ending to conveniently give you a ride home. Not that you minded, the weather had turned unseasonably cool after the warmth of the parade weekend, so the casual conversation as he drove you home in the warmth of his giant truck was a good way to end the day. 

As he rolled into the parking lot behind your apartment complex you wondered if you should invite him in for a coffee, but weren’t sure if you were reading his intentions correctly. Gnawing on your lip you reached into your pocket for your keys, smiling at Walter as he pulled the truck to a stop;

“There we go, home sweet home. Have a good night”

“You too Walter”

Stepping out you smiled and gave him a little wave, knowing he waited until you had gotten into your building.

-

Watching you go Walter cursed himself. When Rachel had left he’d been in the dumps even more than usual, but over the last few days he’d taken a shine to you. He was pretty sure you had clued onto the fact that he had always turned up around the time of your shift finishing, but when he’d found out from Geralt that your car had died and you couldn’t afford to repair it, he didn’t like the thought of you walking home alone. Sure Blackwater Lake was a sleepy little town, but keeping in mind what lurked in the woods - both natural and supernatural - he felt better knowing you’d gotten home. He had been sure you were going to invite him in for coffee tonight, but he’d gotten butterflies in his stomach and had blurted out a farewell before you’d had the chance.

Looking up at your apartment he let out a sigh. 

Then… then something caught his eye. You hadn’t been in the building long enough for the shadow to be you, knowing you stopped to grab your mail each time you entered the building. Killing the engine he reached to the glove compartment for his gun - he still had a concealed carry permit - and raced to the building.

-

Juggling your mail and your purse, you held the letters in your mouth as you searched for the right key on your set when suddenly the sound of thundering footsteps made you spin around, your jaw dropping when you saw Walter appear from the staircase and running to your side. His hand was on your arm and he was pulling you to the side of your door before holding you to his chest;

“There’s someone in your apartment”

“What? No, i locked everything before i left… and there’s no sign of any damage to the door…”

Letting you go he pulled his phone from his pocket and dialled for the sheriff, but as you listened in you could hear the volunteer dispatcher explain that both the Sheriff and the two deputies were out on the highway dealing with an 18 wheeler logging truck that had spun off on a bend. Walter cursed under his breath and hung up;

“Do you still carry?”

“No… not since…”

“Ok. Unlock the door and stay behind me”

The next minute seemed to last both seconds and hours, following Walter through your apartment until he silently pushed the bedroom door open with his gun;

“Freeze!”

The shape in the darkness didn’t move, and when you peered over Walters extended arm and you realised what he was looking at, you let out a sigh and flipped the lightswitch, the ‘threat’ suddenly illuminated and Walters shoulders dropping;

“Oh…”

Your spare uniform shirt was hanging on the frame to the window where you’d hung it earlier in the day so the sunshine would dry it. You let out a deep breath and laughed, resting your forehead against Walters shoulder;

“It’s just my uniform…” you hadn’t realised your voice was shaking until Walter turned and wrapped his arms around you

“I’m sorry i scared you”

Burying your face in the warmth of his sweater, your voice was muffled as you spoke;

“Its ok. I’d rather you have seen the mess in my apartment and saved me from an intruder than the alternative…” you smiled weakly at him, and it was then that the tension in the room was like static before a storm. Like the first lightning strike, when Walters lips touched yours it was as if electricity coursed through your veins, the kiss hungry and needy, contact between two touch starved people needing that connection. Your fingers curled in threads of his knitwear, pulling yourself closer as his arms wrapped around you and his hands splayed out over your ass, squeezing handfuls of flesh so he could pull you flush against his body. The kiss deepend and his tongue sought entrance between your lips which you eagerly granted. He tasted of coffee and peanut butter chocolate, and when he pulled away you were both gasping for breath.

“So, vampires do need oxygen then?”

“How do you…? How are you not scared?”

“Because i was there when it happened. And I've seen you hundreds of times since. I’ve seen you in the mirror, I've seen you outside in the sunshine, i’ve literally served you garlic bread…” you paused; “And i didn’t need to invite you in. Whatever myths are linked to your condition, i know the Walter behind them, i know the quiet and controlled Walter that assesses a situation and ensures everyone is safe…” you paused; “Because I know i’m safe with you”

Walter opened his mouth to speak, but the lump in his throat caught the words. Closing his eyes he rested his forehead against yours, letting out a shaky breath as you gently held his face in your palms, your thumbs softly caressing the skin of his cheeks where his beard ended. You pressed your lips to his, and this kiss was different, this kiss was full of passion, of acceptance and the growing need that was blooming. 

Clothes were scattered as fingers and lips found each new patch of exposed skin, running your fingernails down his massive chest as you both fell to the bed, your fingers curling in the coarse hair that covered his chest before clutching at his belt as his teeth sharply ran over the line of your collarbone and you let out a gasp;

“More…”

“I… I’m not going to bite you…”

“I don’t want you to, but my neck is super sensitive, it's like my biggest turn on…”

At that moment Walter could feel the change, his eyes paling and his fangs growing more prominent as you watched from below him, but what he wasn’t expected was the groans that escaped your throat and the way your body shook;

“Did you just…?” he cocked an eyebrow, he already knew you’d just cum, but he wanted you to admit it.

“Yes, fuck yes, now i need more…”

With a growl he ducked his head down and peppered sharp kisses over your neck, hands working on each others jeans before you were able to kick them off. Your hands ducked into Walters pants and you grasped at his hard length, hot in your palm through his underwear;

“Oh fuck, you’re big…”

“Don’t worry, i’ll go slow… do you… do you have protection?”

“In the drawer”

He reluctantly pulled himself off the bed, and you propped yourself up on your elbows as he searched out the condoms, pulling the box out and swinging something else from his fingertips;

“These aren’t regulation edition”

The pink fluffy handcuffs had been a present a long time ago, and had somehow moved apartments with you;

“Next time…” you reached and grabbed them from him, tossing them aside before grabbing the box and a small foil packet, ripping it open with your teeth as Walter quickly shed himself of his boots and jeans, his dark boxers discarded as you reached for him and smoothed the latex over his fat dick.

He smoothed his hands down your legs, before tugging you down the bed and flipping you onto your stomach, pulling your hips up until your ass was in the air. The rough brush of his beard against your soft inner thighs was quickly soothed by his tongue swiping a firm lick through your soaked folds. He took hold of your hips and you felt him move into position, the firm nudge at your entrance before with a low groan he speared you with the slow stretch of his girth.

“You feel so fucking good… so tight…”

Your fingers curled into the bedsheets and your jaw hung open, the sheer pleasure that was coursing through your veins felt like an elixir as Walter hammered into your tight velvet channel. The carnal slap of flesh on flesh resonating around the room, only joined by the breathless pants escaping your lips and the grunts Walter would let slip as he sought pleasure in your body with his own. He splayed his fingers over your back, running the palm of his hand up your spine until he was able to cup your neck and pull you up, flush with his heated body. His sharp teeth scraped over your neck, his beard rough against the etched skin;

“Look in the mirror. See how amazing you look”

Focusing your attention on the dresser mirror that stood in the corner, you watched as Walter continued to slowly rock his hips, fucking you slow and hard from behind. But it was his eyes that drew your attention, icy pools of white with deep obsidian pupils piercing the tundra, and the flash of danger from his sharp teeth at your neck, just catching on the skin as he spoke;

“You’re so fucking beautiful, dunno what i did to deserve you… will you cum for me?” he slid his hand down your stomach and in the patch of curls at the apex of your thighs, seeking out the sensitive pearl of your clit and rubbing the pad of his finger over it in firm circles; “Will you cum for me?” he repeated, punctuating each word with a sharp thrust of his hips.

“Yes… Walter, please…”

“What do you need…”

“My neck, please…”

Walter knew he couldn’t bite you, there were so many unknowns he’d never explored, but he closed his eyes and focused his energies on bringing you to completion. Thrusting his hips in time to the movement of his hand, whilst sucking a hickey onto your neck, knowing his teeth were rubbing against the skin but not breaking it. The triple stimuli sent you over the edge, your head rolling back onto his shoulder and your mouth open in a silent scream as you came so hard you saw stars, shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body as your walls gripped Walter tight, before with one final thrust you heard him growl as he came hard.

He held you for the longest time, your heart racing in your chest as echoes of your orgasm ricocheted through your body. As Walter started to soften you felt him hold the condom at the base of his shaft as he pulled out gently;

“Err… bathroom?”

“Just through there” you nodded to the door off of the bedroom as you fell to the bed, laying back with a smile on your face.

A few moments later he reappeared with a warm washcloth, first soothing your neck before tenderly attending to the mess between your thighs. After putting it back in the bathroom he appeared at the side of the bed, reaching for his jeans when you caught his wrist and pulled him onto the bed;

“You don’t need to go”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to overstay my welcome…”

“Look, unless you’re going to turn into a bat or something, you’re fine… we can talk, order some takeout…”

Wrapping his arm around your shoulders, you snuggled to his chest as he smiled sleepily;

“That sounds good. Can i take you out on a proper date at some point?”

“That’d be nice. Though our options are slim in this town, its only Sue’s Coffee Shop or Big-G’s Bar… unless you want to get a take-out pizza and sit outside on the kerb”

“I’ll cook, come to my place? What are you doing Friday night?”

“I’m off, but…”

“But?”

You felt your cheeks flushing with heat;

“I’m due on by the end of the week…”

“Oh. OH…” You looked up at Walter and saw a flush over his cheeks and his blue eyes glinting with excitement and a smirk on his lips.

“Oh… you’re into that?”

“You’re… not? Because i just want to say, i would happily give oral to my girl on her period even pre-vamp status…now its just…”

“A snack?”

He let out a low belly laugh;

“Yeah, you could say that”

Curling up to Walter’s chest you felt a sense of calm you hadn’t experienced for a very long time, the conversation flowing easily and long into the night, before you both fell asleep in each other's arms.

#walter marshall #walter marshall x reader #walter marshall smut #Vampire!Walter #henry cavill

[wordsnwhiskey]

As It Should Be | Chapter 4: Company

Pairing: Agent Whiskey x F!Reader x Frankie Morales

Summary: Whiskey gets a surprised call and he and Frankie have a long talk.

Rating: M

Warnings: Talks of drug use, alcohol, mentions of character death, mentions of canon typical violence, PTSD, violent nightmare

A/N: I really wanted this conversation to happen between these two given their respective histories. We all know that Whiskey needed therapy and in this verse he gets it. It’s also my HC, from what I vaguely know (I’m not an expert and I could be very wrong), that Whiskey was an officer in the Air Force where he flew/placed in jets and that’s how he knows how to fly an F-22 (The Silver Pony).

We are getting some angst and some fluff this time folks!

Also, yes I do have a specific soap in mind for Whiskey, it's Old Glory by Duke Cannon

Huge special thanks to mi esposa @danniburgh and my friend Agent Capri Sun for the betas and encouragement!!

Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Chapter 3: Statesmen & Demons | AO3

He was drowning. He needed...something. He needed help.

Frankie pulled his phone out, went to the recent number that was, as of yet, unsaved, and pressed ‘call’. His shaky hand brought the phone up to his ear as the line rang.

Whiskey’s hair was still wet from his shower, and his white t-shirt clung to his damp skin. Eyeing the take out on his counter, he sank into his couch and smiled at your texts:

Whiskey: Thai sound good, sweetheart?

Bourbon: God yes Jack, I’m starving!

Whiskey: I’ll let you know when I get outta the shower, see you soon sweetheart

He was just about to send you a message to come on over when his phone rang. Glancing at the clock on his stove, then back to the unfamiliar Texas number on his caller ID, he frowned.

“Whiskey.”

His greeting was curt. Who the hell would be calling at 8:30 pm on a Wednesday?

“H-hey Whiskey, it’s me, Frankie. Is… uh, is she there?”

Whiskey’s frown deepened, not that he minded Frankie calling him, far from it, but his voice was cracking like he’d been... crying?

“Oh, hey there, Flyboy. No she isn’t, do you need me to get her?”

“N-no, no… I, uh, I don’t want her to see me right now. I’m, uh,” Whiskey could hear Frankie take a deep breath on the other side of the line. “I’m having a bad night, Jack. Could you come get me? I’m at the hotel.”

Jack shot straight up, practically leaping to his feet.

“Did you…?”

The question clung to the air like lead, crushing both of their chests in the silence.

“No, I haven’t… I just… fuck.”

Jack was moving, grabbing his leather jacket, keys, and Stetson, practically sprinting out the door.

“Don’t worry about it, Flyboy. I’m headed your way.”

He shifted his weight while he waited for the elevator to take him to the parking garage, shooting off a quick text to you in apology. Frankie’s words, “I don’t want her to see me,” rung in his ears and he decided to hold off on telling you what had come up, at least until he could see you at the office tomorrow.

Whiskey: Hey sweetheart, sorry something came up and I can’t do dinner tonight. Everything’s fine, see you at the office, sugar. X

Your phone went off and you quickly unlocked it, eager to hear back from Jack so you could head over. A frown pulled the corners of your lips down at his text, but you knew he wouldn’t cancel on you without good reason.

You: See you tomorrow, cowboy. Better make it up to me ;)

Frankie had left the door slightly ajar and was pacing around his room, arms crossed in front of him when he heard a quick knock, then the handle was turning and Whiskey crossed the threshold. He took a cursory glance around the room: nothing but minibar booze bottles, thankfully. Whiskey let out a sigh of relief that was short-lived when he took in Frankie’s demeanor. Frankie’s face was taut with shame, and his gaze refused to rise any higher than Whiskey’s boots.

“I didn’t know who else to call,” Frankie choked out, “ Pope, and Hawk… I can’t disappoint them again. I’ve been clean for three years, and I didn’t…”

Jack shook his head and beckoned Frankie over, wrapping his arm around the other man’s shoulders and pulling him in for a quick, tight hug.

“C’mon, Flyboy, this is not the time nor the place to talk about this. I’m taking you back to my place, and we’re gonna have some whiskey that’s much better than what you’ve had here, and then we can talk.”

Frankie nodded and grabbed his hat, planting it on his head as Whiskey tugged him out of the hotel room. He was so deep in his thoughts and his guilt for having Whiskey come out that he didn’t realize where he was until the elevator dinged. Whiskey unlocked and opened the door to his condo, giving way to a view so incredible Frankie almost forgot to breathe. Across from the entryway, on the far side of the condo, the gorgeous New York night skyline twinkled back at them from beyond the wall of glass windows. Frankie marveled at the rustic elegance of Jack’s home. It had an entirely open floor plan, giving Frankie a view of the dark cherry butcher block island, the top-of-the-line range top, and other appliances, all immaculately clean. For a moment, he wondered if that was because Whiskey ordered out more than he cooked, but then he saw the bags of takeout on the counter and immediately felt guilty.

“I’m sorry, looks like I interrupted your dinner plans.”

Whiskey closed and locked the door behind him, hanging his jacket up on the nearby hook. He glanced over at the takeout, then put his hand on Frankie’s shoulder.

“Don’t worry about it, partner. I just told her something came up. You hungry? I ordered her Drunken Noodles, be a shame to put them to waste.”

Frankie was about to decline when his stomach rumbled, and Whiskey chuckled.

“C’mon, Flyboy, go sit down on the couch and I’ll bring the food and some whiskey round.”

With a nod, he toed his dress shoes off (they were all he had without his go bag) and made for the brown leather couch. He sat down a bit stiffly, feeling awkward given the circumstances. Whiskey brought over the containers of food, handing one to Frankie and resting his own on the coffee table before grabbing them the promised drinks. He sat down, and Frankie took his drink in one hand, relishing in the smooth burn as he took a sip, then set it down to dive into his food.

They ate in a relaxed and cozy silence. Frankie finished first, which wasn’t a surprise. When Whiskey finished, he took Frankie’s empty container with him to toss in the garbage before he made his way back. An awkward silence replaced the previous comfortable one, and Frankie found himself having a hard time pulling his gaze from the amber liquid in his glass. Whiskey took a deep breath, then turned on the couch to face Frankie.

“Santiago said you’ve been clean for three years? That’s quite the accomplishment.”

“Yeah, thanks. Doesn’t really feel like it right now. I feel like I failed. I’m worried I’ll slip up.”

“I don’t think you will, Frankie. Neither do Pope or Bourbon.”

Jack didn’t know why, but the words rang true in his mind, even though he hadn’t known Frankie for very long.

“You don’t seem like the kind of guy to throw three years of hard work away, Flyboy.”

A small smile tugged at Frankie’s lips and he took a sip from his glass.

“Must’ve been weird for Halcón. Last time she saw me, fuck, I was barely with it. The suspension hit me hard. I had been getting my shit together before Colombia and the funeral. I just wanted to be able to fly. I couldn’t and still can’t stand the idea of being grounded. That, and I knew my fianceé would leave me if I didn’t get it together. But then, well, we all went to Colombia.”

“I couldn’t imagine being grounded. I don’t fly often, but to not have the option? I dunno what I’d do.”

Whiskey shook his head and grimaced. Frankie perked up, head snapping to meet Whiskey’s gaze.

“You fly?”

“Mmmhmm, was in the Air Force for a bit, did jets. Statesmen has an F-22, the Silver Pony, that I fly.”

A small buzz of excitement was washing over Frankie, and he subconsciously scooted closer to Whiskey. He didn’t really have anyone to talk to about flying, even if helicopters and jets were two very different means of flying.

“What made you risk it, Flyboy? What happened in Colombia?”

Frankie frowned and let out a deep sigh.

“Pope had been down there for a few years, chasing a narco named Gabriel Martín Lorea. He finally got a break when his CI told him she knew where he was hiding out and where he was stashing his money. He showed up outta the blue asking us, our old team, to come down and do recon, $17k just for a week of recon. If we wanted to stay on after that, we’d be entitled to 25% of whatever we seized, and the rumour was that Lorea had $75M on him. I’m guessing Halcón was busy with a mission for you guys, and I’m glad she was. It ended up being a fucking shitshow.”

Whiskey noted the faraway look in Frankie’s eyes as he sighed and took another swig from his glass, shaking his head as Frankie recalled the events.

“After the recon, Pope said he thought we could do the job ourselves, take all the money and not tell the local governments. We found out that the local agency hadn’t been the ones to pay us the $17k. That had come out of Pope’s pocket. He was so sure that the locals were on Lorea’s payroll, and if he went to the local agency, Lorea would disappear with the money. At the end of the day, none of us could say no. Turned out the rumors of Lorea having $75M were wrong. The house was stuffed, literally, with cash. Tom, our captain, got greedy. He ignored our hard-out time and insisted we take more loads of cash. We ended up stealing close to $250M, then we burned the house down.”

Whiskey whistled. “$250M is a lot of money, partner…”

Frankie barked out a humorless laugh, his eyes rueful.

“Too much. Our helo couldn’t take it all and make it over the Andes. I knew it before take off, and I warned Tom and Pope, but all any of us could see was the money. Tom didn’t want to leave it on the runway. I almost had us over the Andes when a gearbox blew, and I had to get us back to flat. We had to cut the money net, and it was just our luck that it happened to be over a coke farm. It was a bad landing. I honestly don’t know how none of us were seriously injured, but Pope and Tom went to go and convince the farmers to get out of the money. Our comms were out, so we were going off of hand signals. Tom got too trigger happy, and he dropped a few of the villagers. I-I provided cover fire, too…”

Frankie hung his head, no matter how much Will, Benny, or Pope had tried to reassure him, he still held an enormous amount of guilt over what had happened. He felt Whiskey’s hand rest on his shoulder, and he leaned into the touch.

“That’s what you were trained to do, Flyboy. You couldn’t have known any different, especially without comms.”

Frankie nodded, taking a large gulp of his whiskey, then continued on.

“A couple days later, we took fire in the mountains, and they got Tom. It ended up being a kid and another guy from the coke farm. We killed them, but there was nothing we could do for Tom. Headshot, he died instantly. 10 years we all served together, and then he was gone, leaving behind an ex and two daughters. It could have been any one of us though, Jack… we all took lives during that mission. Tom just took the wrong ones. It… it could have been me even, I shot some of those villagers, too.”

Frankie felt Whiskey’s grip on his shoulder tighten and looked up to see the empathetic sadness of someone who truly understood how he felt reflected back in Whiskey’s eyes. Frankie cleared his throat.

“We ended up bailing on a lot of the cash, taking only what we could carry in our daypacks and tossing the rest in a ravine so we could haul Tom’s body out with us. At the end of it, we made out with around $5M, but we all agreed it should go to Tom’s family. I got back to find my fianceé had left. She couldn’t stand my leaving with Pope. Looking back, my addiction is probably what really did us in, but I was devastated to come home to an empty house after everything that had happened. Things got… dark after that. I fell back on old habits, fuck, I had barely been clean a few months when we went to Colombia. I didn’t want to think about what we’d done there, didn’t want to feel the emptiness, didn’t want to sleep and deal with the nightmares. I was a mess, and I… uh, I took too much one day. Pope found me unconscious, lying on the ground, and got me to the hospital. When I came to, I realized I didn’t want to end up dead in my shitty apartment, once they discharged me, I checked into rehab.”

Frankie took another drink. No one other than Pope knew that knocking on death’s door had been the turning point for him. Whiskey chewed on his lip, taking a drink and debating whether he should share his past as well.

“Drugs are… a terrible thing to get hooked on. My high school sweetheart, carrying my unborn son, was murdered by two meth head freaks robbing a fucking convenience store. I was on leave from the Air Force, waiting for them to come home when I got the call. I didn’t realize how much it festered in me until about a year back when we were taking down the Golden Circle.”

Frankie nodded. He remembered that he had been glad he was clean by then.

“I’m sorry, Whiskey… I didn’t know, I shouldn’t have-”

Jack’s hand moved from Frankie’s shoulder to rub his back reassuringly.

“Listen, the things you’ve done and seen for our country… and not, well, it’s a lot, and I know it’s not the same as the freaks who… it’s not the same. I almost sabotaged the mission. My hate-addled brain thought it would be justice… It was Bourbon who very literally knocked me on my ass and kept me from making a decision I’d regret. She encouraged me to see a Statesmen counselor, which has been a lot of work, but has been more helpful than I ever thought it would be. Have you thought about that?”

Frankie was distracted for a moment by Jack’s hand. It felt nice, reassuring, safe, things that had been sorely lacking for him today.

“I have and I did, well, I had to as part of the program, and I kept it up for a bit after. It helped, but… I couldn’t really talk about what happened with Tom. Sure there’s confidentiality and all that, but what we did is all kinds of illegal. I couldn’t exactly bring that to a session or group.”

Frankie snorted, a ghost of a smile tugged at a corner of his mouth.

“Really though, aside from the program I was in after rehab to get my license back, I’ve gotten some hobbies and some other out-outlets. This was just a lot. I needed to not be alone.”

Jack cocked his head at the way Frankie stuttered and subconsciously fidgeted with the bandage on his right wrist. He had picked up from the night prior that Frankie had a thing for pain, and Frankie’s reaction when he had bandaged him up was further proof of that. But using it as his sole outlet or method of working through his issues was something he wouldn’t enable. His eyes narrowed, and before Frankie could blink, Jack snatched his left hand, mindful of the tender marks as he held fast and fixed Frankie with a hard stare. Frankie flinched at the sudden movement then his eyes widened a little.

“You know this ain’t a solution, Flyboy.”

Jack’s voice had an edge to it bordering on a growl. Frankie shook his head quickly.

“Shit, no, Whiskey, the i-impact p-play stuff, i-it’s an outlet, and it’s not my only outlet. I met my old partners, Sam and then later on her husband, a year and a half or two years ago. I was a year clean before I even had my first session with either of them. I met Sam when she booked a flight tour, and one thing led to another… She’d come back into town and sometimes her husband would come with, but we all kept everything pretty quiet. They helped me relax, and they had their fun.”

Frankie was doing his best to be nonchalant, but he couldn’t help the slight bitterness creeping into his voice. Maybe it had to do with the fact that Jack’s tone had thrown him off guard, unexpectedly stirring something in him. Whiskey, of course noticed on both counts, having been trained to do so. He could see through Frankie a mile away. Frankie nervously took another sip from his glass, shuddering as Whiskey’s thumb gingerly rubbed circles over the marks, seemingly accepting his explanation.

“You know, had I known about your… interests, I would have done things a bit differently last night, Flyboy.” He winked at Frankie, then smirked as he examined Frankie’s wrist more thoughtfully. “How are they doing?”

“G-good, thanks. And uh, well, you’re one of 3 people who know.” Frankie murmured.

Whiskey’s eyebrows raised slightly in surprise as he nodded and released Frankie’s hand.

“Really? Not Pope or Bourbon?”

“Are you kidding me? Pope would never let me hear the end of it. There are some things he doesn’t need to know.” Frankie chuckled and shook his head. “And Halcón? Well, there was never any reason for her to know. We never did anything together before last night.”

“How long has it been since you last saw Sam or her husband?”

Frankie downed the rest of his whiskey, eyes far away for a moment, remembering their last session, the sharp pain followed by a rush of endorphins and the occasional soothing praise. He shook his head gently, blinking himself out of his memories at the feeling of Jack’s warm hand on his knee.

“It’s been a while, six months? They moved overseas.”

There was a beat of silence, Whiskey could sense there was something up, it was a subtle shadow flitting across Frankie’s face. He decided to push a little more.

“Did you have feelings for them?”

“It was complicated.”

The edge in Frankie’s voice was tinged with pain, and he tried to cover it up with a laugh that came out humorless.

“I guess it isn’t that complicated. After six months, things shifted, and they made it clear I wasn’t part of their long term plan. It became very transactional, which was fine, but there was less and less... care after.”

“Oh.”

The response slipped from Jack’s lips, and he was momentarily stunned quiet before his temper began to flare. His index finger and thumb gently gripped Frankie’s chin, forcing him to meet his gaze.

“Listen carefully, Flyboy. What I did last night was the bare minimum of what someone should do in that kind of situation. Anything less is negligent. Christ, how was this ever stress relief for you if you were left to free fall afterwards?”

Whiskey’s voice was calm and even, but Frankie could see the fury raging in his eyes. Sensing Whiskey’s desire for understanding, he nodded then shrugged.

“I guess I’d try to go on a hike with one of the guys or go train at the gym.”

Silence fell between them, a muscle in Whiskey’s jaw clenching before he glanced at the clock and let out a deep sigh, willing himself to calm down.

“It’s already just about midnight, Flyboy. Why don’t you go shower, and I’ll put on a clean bandage for you once you’re done. You can use my bathroom. There’s a clean towel hanging you can use. Don’t worry about clothes, I’ll leave something for you to sleep in on my bed so you can change while I set up the guest room for you.”

Frankie was about to protest, saying he could do his own bandages, but Whiskey fixed him with a stare and shook his head.

“Go on Flyboy, get yourself in the shower. Head down the hall, second door on the left. Your room is across the hall. I’ll be waiting there with the medkit when you’re done.”

Whiskey took Frankie’s empty glass and stood, taking their glasses to the sink while Frankie got up and made his way to the shower. A pensive frown tugged at Whiskey’s lips. Tonight certainly explained a lot of things. The sharp fury that permeated Whiskey’s chest when they were talking about Frankie’s previous partners returned. How could someone not be bothered with aftercare? It was also clear that Frankie felt abandoned by them. On some level, the poor man was probably terrified of that happening again, if he even entertained the thought of something between the three of you. Whiskey waited a few moments until he heard the water running before heading into his room. He let out a sigh as he grabbed a white t-shirt and a pair of linen shorts for Frankie to wear, leaving them on the bed before he left to make sure the guest room was all set.

Frankie undressed quickly, folding his clothes and setting them down on the vanity in a neat pile crowned with his hat. Next, he made quick work of unwrapping the bandage around his wrist and tossing the materials in the garbage. He let out a sigh of relief as he stepped into the shower and the hot water scoured the last two days from his skin. The relief was quickly replaced with a small whine of pain as the water hit his wrist. Closing his eyes and bracing himself against the wall with his forearm he breathed through the pain, acclimating to the sensation. Frankie took a minute to just exist, trying to enjoy the quiet that had slowly crept back into his mind. Taking a deep breath, he set to work getting himself clean. The steam made the air thick and heavy with the scent of Whiskey’s soap, something akin to leather and tobacco leaves. It clung to Frankie’s lungs, and he could have stayed there enjoying it for considerably longer. But, he didn’t want to keep Whiskey waiting, so he rinsed off and hopped out of the shower. He toweled off, smirking to himself when he saw it was monogrammed (because of course it was), then headed out and changed quickly into the shirt and shorts that had been left for him.

Whiskey looked up in time to see Frankie stride through the doorway wearing his shirt and shorts, smelling like him, his soap. He swallowed thickly and tried to recover with a smile.

“Feel better, Flyboy? C’mon, sit down. Let’s have a look.”

Frankie nodded, then took a seat next to Whiskey on the bed and gave him his right hand. Whiskey hummed his approval at the lack of resistance from Frankie, something the pilot felt tug at his chest.

“This is looking much better, Flyboy, should be completely healed in a few days.”

Whiskey smiled as he finished tending to and wrapping up Frankie’s wrist. Without prompting, Frankie offered his other wrist and Whiskey couldn’t bite back the smirk that followed. He was glad though, glad that Frankie was trusting him with this and was embracing these moments, even if it was for something small. Frankie’s left wrist was considerably better off, but even so, Whiskey was still gentle as he looked him over.

Frankie’s heart fluttered at the intimacy of what was happening. Here was Jack, a man he’d known for barely 48 hours, who was taking care of him, who had dropped everything to come get him, who had spent his evening letting Frankie talk. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had treated him this way.

There was an overwhelming urge building in his chest, and without thinking, he acted on it.

He gripped the collar of Whiskey’s t-shirt with one hand, tugging him closer as Frankie leaned in and kissed him. Whiskey was shocked for a moment, it had been the last thing he had been expecting, but he quickly recovered when he felt Frankie’s tongue swipe at his lip. His hand rested along the column of Frankie’s throat, thumb grazing over the scruff along his jaw as he deepened the kiss, leaning into Frankie and tasting him.

A small moan pulled Jack back to his senses, resting his forehead against Frankie’s and cupping his jaw with this other hand. They both panted, trying to catch their breath, and Whiskey smiled as he gave Frankie another quick kiss. For a moment, Frankie was worried he had overstepped when Whiskey cut off their kiss, but looking into the other man’s eyes, he knew that wasn’t the case.

“You’ve had a long day, Flyboy, we’re not gonna do anything tonight. Tomorrow though, if you want, I could help you get rid of some of that stress and help you come down the right way. No rush, no pressure, you can say no and nothing changes. I don’t want an answer right now either, sleep on it.”

Frankie’s breath quickened and his pupils dilated at the thought, but one thing nagged at him.

“What about Halcón?”

Whiskey chuckled and patted Frankie’s shoulder.

“Well it’s what we both want, in a manner of speaking. She’d be onboard, but she doesn’t have to know exactly what we do for now unless you’re comfortable with it. A lot of this is stuff I know she wants to go over on Friday, but for now, when it comes to me and Bourbon, keep an open mind and try not to overthink it, partner. If you want to do this tomorrow, then we can do it. If not, no harm, no foul, you’re still welcome to stay here and keep me company.”

Frankie nodded, still processing what Whiskey had said and more than a little surprised that Whiskey was inviting him back regardless of his decision. Whiskey stood up then, squeezing Frankie’s shoulder.

“G’night, Flyboy. Holler if you need anything.”

Frankie was back in Colombia. He felt sluggish, his feet refusing to respond the way he wanted them to. He saw the villager from the cocaine farm pop up from the rocky outcrop, but Frankie couldn’t move, couldn’t draw his gun to take him out. He cried out in anguish as the man fired.

“No! Tom!”

Then he was surrounded by Pope, Benny, Will, you, and Whiskey, statuesque as the man who killed Tom lined up and dropped Pope, moving his way down the line. Frankie was sobbing now, he was being swallowed up by the ground, sinking helplessly as the people he cared for were murdered.

Whiskey woke with a start to the sound of shouting.

Ripping the sheet and comforter off, Whiskey glanced at the clock. It read 01:30 and he sighed. Frankie just couldn’t catch a break.

“P-please, No! Po-Pope, God, n-no, Hal-Halcón! Whiskey!”

He really didn’t want to shake Frankie awake, worried as to how he might react waking up from that sort of dream, but Jack had to do something.

“Hey, Frankie, I’m right here, you gotta wake up. Wake up, Flyboy.”

Frankie shot up, feeling like ice water had been poured down his spine. He was wild-eyed and breathing heavily, but once again, Whiskey’s soothing words served to ground him, and he clung to them with all he had. He felt Whiskey pull him into a hug, and Frankie didn’t care about the awkward angle, he clung to the embrace as well.

Whiskey’s heart ached at the way Frankie clutched at him after hearing him call out Pope’s, his, and your names. He had a vague idea of what might have happened, he still had dreams where he couldn’t save his loved ones every now and then. Once Frankie’s breathing calmed a bit, Whiskey tugged him up out of bed.

“C’mon Flyboy, you’re coming with me.”

Frankie didn’t argue, he just followed, grateful that Whiskey was pulling him by his hand, needing that point of contact. Whiskey pulled back the covers on the side opposite of his and waited until Frankie crawled in before he pulled the covers over him, then slid in on his side of the bed. He scooted a bit closer, not wanting to crowd Frankie unless he wanted the contact, and was pleased when the other man scooted back until his back rested against Jack’s chest.

“Get some sleep, Flyboy. I’ve got you.”

Sooner than he expected, Whiskey heard soft snores coming from Frankie. He smiled then wrapped his arm around him and pulled him closer.

Thank you for reading! Reblogs & comments are much appreciated!

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#Agent Whiskey #Agent Whiskey x Reader #Agent Whiskey x f!reader #Agent Whiskey x you #Jack Daniels #Jack Daniels x Reader #Jack Daniels x f!reader #Jack Daniels x you #Frankie Morales #Frankie Morales x reader #Frankie Morales x f!reader #Frankie Morales x you #Catfish Morales x reader #Catfish Morales x f!reader #Catfish Morales x you #Agent Whiskey x F!Reader x Frankie Morales #As It Should Be #AISB #my fics #pedrostories

[peachraindrops]

Gg prompt!! Rio cracks his phone screen 😂

The air was chilly and dark in a way that made her feel like it had to be the latest point of the wintery midwestern night. The sun set hours ago and there was still no sunrise in sight. Perfect time for a drop as she’d learned.

She sat there perched and lightly swaying back and forth on her usual swing with Ruby on one side of her and Annie on the other. The frigid air was burning her face but her limbs and hands were toasty warm with all the extra layers she’d piled on, plus a hat she loved to wear in crime mode. The chains of their swings all creaked with every twist back and forth in a sort of creepy musical rendition, at least during the night. Somewhere off in the distance of the deserted playground the old metal merry-go-round blew idly around and around, squeaking eerily in tandem with their swings.

A year ago this would have seemed like the devil’s playground to her...somewhere only drug dealers and criminals lurked around in the middle of the night. It felt basically the same tonight, except for some reason she felt like she belonged. Whatever that meant.

“Yo,” Rio grunted, his voice hoarser than usual, a sure side effect of the late hour and cold winter air too.

“...Yo.” Annie welcomed back like she seemed to think he was talking to her in the first place. She was never quite picking up on social cues, not from him or from anyone else. She was always somewhat immature, childish she might even say. It was like time stopped for her when she had Ben and she never quite found the time to finish growing up herself.

The way Rio was looking at her told her his greeting was meant exclusively for her, seeing as how he’d been eyeing her the second the words left his mouth. If she knew any better she’d swear the corner of his mouth was begging to turn up in the same way she felt hers doing whenever she saw him.

He ignored Annie completely which wasn’t very surprising since that’s what he always did. Beth felt Annie’s eyes snapping back and forth between them while she watched intently until Rio asked, “How’d it go?”

She smiled proudly and pulled a heavy black duffle bag from behind her, plopping it down cockily in front of her feet. “Seven fifty, washed and folded.”

Rio grinned, nothing in him looked surprised but he appeared impressed and it did something to her. Like she wouldn’t mind getting that look from him all the time. “That’s my girl.”

His words sent a shiver down her spine while he gestured down toward the bag so that one of his guys knew to come scoop it up and count it.

Ruby scoffed off in the distance and she vaguely heard Annie mumble a sarcastic you’re welcome more to herself than to anyone else around.

“It was easy,” Beth beamed and he nodded, pulling his plump bottom lip between his teeth and humming soundly. His face glazed over and sent a rush of heat through her entire body.

“Think you can do it again?” Rio asked her, intrigued. If she was being honest with herself she knew they should probably quit while they were ahead, get out alive. Like this operation wouldn’t run smoothly forever. She just couldn’t. It was like she was enjoying her first glass of bourbon after twenty dry years of sobriety. A smooth rush flowed through her veins leaving her desperate and eager for more.

Beth grinned and mimicked him, “At least once more before I flip my game.”

His jaw dropped the tiniest bit, and his phone he had been idly holding slipped out of his hand and tumbled onto the hard ground screen side down. He looked stunned, amused, but mostly just impressed as his eyes flicked down to his fallen phone and back up at Beth. One of his guys chuckled from a few feet away, interrupting whatever was going on back and forth between them.

Rio bent down to pick up the casualty that was his phone and saw the screen had shattered. He sighed and tossed it into his back pocket to worry about later.

“Oh yea? How you gonna do that?” he ended up laughing, referring back to her flipping her game and she smirked. Beth looked over to Ruby and then over to Annie, both long clocked out of the conversation they were never really a part of anyway.

Annie took it as her cue to grab the bag full of dirty money that one of Rio’s guys had dropped down by her feet, mumbling to Ruby while she did it. What are we, invisible?

Ruby sighed, trying to hush Annie while they walked ahead of her to head back to the van. Their bickering followed them out into the dark of the night. Beth lagged behind and turned back toward Rio who was still watching her with that same intensity, grinning somewhat wildly at her and still waiting for an answer.

She couldn’t help herself. “Sorry, school isn’t in session right now.”

Then she let him watch her walk away.

#takes place during s1 #these two kinda fit together for me so i put them in one haha #beth x rio #gg fanfic #nbc good girls

[peakascum]

Reunion pt. 2

This is set before ‘Reunion’. More like a prequel. If you guys like it I would love to make a short series on this character! If you want to be tagged please send me a message and I will happily do so.

This is merely an introduction.

Also, this was inspired by THIS SONG.

The moon’s ominous glare settled upon Small Heath illuminating the train’s path. Out stepped Y/N Shelby’s trembling legs just as the clock struck three, prompting every Shelby’s eyes open and a heaviness settle upon their chest. A girl born at the witching hour to young parents. Her mother’s pride, her father’s joy. She always loomed through the shadows in the coming years shifting into whichever entity her family wanted. The first child, the caregiver, the silent spawn, the forgotten daughter, all in hopes to keep her away as an important souvenir. Her father deemed it difficult to even glance at her after the death of her mother, the girl unfortunately inheriting a striking resemblance to her. A feather-light touch, untamed hair, and the unforgiving smirk that etched her face after a witty remark escaped her lips.

But Gypsy blood ran thick and moved swiftly past the train station, through the canal, by butcher’ peak, and into the doorsteps of her loved ones. Quiet hums escaped her lips as the air grew thicker, a soft lullaby that kept the drunk men at bay and wandering eyes to themselves.

Y/N Shelby had been left with her stepmother after witnessing her father’s death right on their doorstep. She shuddered as the dreadful scene played in her mind. It had been raining, a drizzling rain, not uncommon for England. The blood, so much of it, poured through the bullet holes and onto the steps they climbed every day after an evening in the fields. The screams and noise that her stepmother made were nothing compared to the unbearable silence she emitted as the scene unfolded before her. Dead. Dead as the rabbits he brought home after hunting. Cold as the winter chill that forever seeped through her veins.

The bell at the inn rang as soon as she opened the door. The room was distasteful and reeked of bourbon, but it would do, for now. The woman at the front desk eyed the Y/N’s contemplative stare in an intent to analyze the new, yet familiar, face.

“Room f’one?” She asked twitching her brow up.

“I don’t see anybody else here.”

“Right.”

The woman sported a thick coat with an intricate pattern that reminded Y/N of the ones her mother used to sow. Eyes were painted heavily with dark colors that faded in the wrinkled creases of her skin. Only certain women wore that on this part of town. But Y/N was certain she wasn't that type of woman and merely wore it to catch the attention of men. Yet, at this hour she was sure the only souls that would dare trespass the inn were wailing ghosts and, well, herself.

“Are there any job openings in town that you know of?” She muttered timidly. The woman tore her eyes away from the check-in book and scoffed. “Ye’ should be careful asking for jobs ‘round here,” she paused and surveyed her body, “specially a young girl like y’self.”

Y/N hummed in acknowledgement.

“What about the Shelby Company?” Y/N asked slyly.

“Wha’ about them?” The woman asked squinting her eyes at the girl.

“Any free spots?”

“Aren't y’bold!” The woman wheezed out a laugh. Y/N trained her eyes on her, deciding wether or not the laughter offended her. 

“Is that amusing?”

“Tha’ kind of talk only calls f’trouble.” The woman finished with a cough. A heavy cough that she swears only someone from Small Heath makes. Y/N’s face remained stoic as the woman jotted down an address onto a crumpled piece fo paper. 

“Ask for a Mr. Zhang. Tell ‘im tha’ Tillie sent ya’”. Her name was Tillie. “‘reckon it’s the fastest way t’get a hold of a Peaky lad.”

“I’m no whore, Tillie,” Y/N smiled wickedly, “but you already know that, don’t you?”

Tillie cocked her head to the side and savored the girl’s words. A face so hauntingly familiar that made the older woman clutch her hanging rosary in response. Y/N hummed in silent understanding and thanked her for the room and the recommendation.

A whore she was not, but as all women she could play any role, morph into any character she desired. The ends would justify the means.

She accommodated herself in the sturdy bed by the window a she hummed a quiet Romanian lullaby under her breath. Her eyes trained on the flickering lamp post across the street. Moths waltzed around it as if dancing to her tune. Fingers curled around her hairbrush and weaved through her hair in a harmonious dance, prepping herself for the days ahead. Forgotten daughter no more, she would earn her way back to her family. 

A dynasty so rightfully hers.

The witching hour had stirred the Shelbys from their slumber and would be greeted with a coldness deemed as uncommon for the season. The sensation elicited groans and shivers from the family. Prompted oil lamps to light up their bedrooms and halls in attempt to make sense of their sudden awakening. It even prompted a certain Blinder, not of Gypsy blood, to stir awake in sudden wariness and light a candle to his bedside. 

Candles and lamps that would flicker a dance every time she hummed the same lines. 

Tags: @peakywitch​

#Peaky Blinders #peaky blinders imagine #Peaky Blinders series #John Shelby #john x reader #john shelby imagine #john shelby fanfic #john shelby au #john shelby x reader #isiah jesus #isiah jesus imagine #Isiah Jesus fanfic #Isiah Jesus x reader #thomas shelby #thomas shelby fanfic #thomas shelby imagine #Tommy Shelby #tommy shelby imagine #peaky blinders fanfiction #reunion