#i know he smacked greasy

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

It's a Match! || 141 x Reader

[ Chapter 9 ] || [ Chapter 11 ]

Pairing: Ghost x gn!Reader || 141 x gn!Reader Words: 1.7K~ Tags: NO SMUT, simon is a flirt, first kiss, simon has a PIERCING, simon needed to be held okay? Summary: While overcoming recent heartbreak, you decide to join Tinder in search of a rebound. Your friends advise to just Swipe Right indiscriminately... What happens when 4 soldiers from the same squad match with you? a/n: ghost HAS MADE THE MOVE.

Chapter 10: SIMON?!

You had entered the pub looking for someone who you didn’t know. Unlike with John, you didn’t even have a picture of Simon’s face to go off of.

Not that you had needed one. Going inside and scanning the room, you immediately spotted a tall, blond man with a black mask holding a tumbler of whiskey. He was leaning against a back wall by the dartboard, one foot propped up on the wall behind him.

Tall, blond, and a fan of Bourbon. Check, check and check.

You had made your way over almost immediately, being greeted with a squinting of his eyes and a dipping of his head off to the side.

“You look good.” He had said before raising a finger in the air and spinning it, beckoning you to give a little spin. Which you did.

“You don’t look so bad yourself.” You had retorted as he pulled away from the wall and guided you to the bar, one hand on your shoulder, so he could pay you for the drink, as you had so salaciously demanded on Tinder.

After that, he took you outside, to a table in the corner of the outdoor area of the pub. He parked himself on a lone armchair, legs spread and his position relaxed, spine curled ever so slightly, to make him take up less space. As if that’s somehow possible.

Then, Simon tapped his palm on his lap, beckoning you to sit, which you did without question. His hand circled around your waist, pulling your back to press against his chest.

He felt you press your ass back against his bulge, which earned you a dark rumble of a chuckle right into your ear. “Not as shy as I expected you’d be.” He had whispered.

“You’re the one who made me sit on your lap.” You had retorted as you looked back at him, only to get your head swiveled forward once more by his firm hand on your jaw.

“Eyes forward.” He had demanded. “I wanna drink in peace.” He had told you. He was bossy, but not exactly in a bad way.

“I guess that answers my question.” You had told him as you sipped from your own glass. Behind you, Simon did the same. You could hear the ice clinking against the glass as he dipped the tumbler back to sip from.

“Which one?” He had asked after a wet swallow of his drink and smacking his lips lightly.

“If you were going to wear the mask.” You had answered.

“It’s for your own benefit.” He had retorted.

“How’s that?” You had asked, daring to turn back to look at him, only to be stopped by his firm hand on your jaw, correcting your gaze away again, wordlessly.

“I’m not exactly a pretty sight under this.” He had told you. “Would rather not scare you off.”

“I’m sure it’s not that bad.” You had retorted. “And I doubt you could scare me off.” You added. “Though…” You had trailed off, thinking for a moment. “I won’t deny that if you’re like… super disfigured I might have a bit of a reaction to it at first.” You had told him sincerely.

That had earned you another rumble of a laugh behind you as he leaned in, pressing his chest a bit more against your back.

“Tell you what.” He had said softly in your ear. “I’ll let you have a glimpse soon enough, if the night ends up going the way I wish for it to.”

-

After a few hours getting to know each other, in which Simon kept up his promise of being honest within reason, you ended up at a McDonald’s parking lot, eating greasy food in the front seat and talking some more about all sorts of things. 

You told him about your ex, about your family, about work, about your current obsessions in a certain TV show, a certain videogame, a certain actor… And he returned with his own. Who would’ve thought that this mysterious, sort of strange, guy would like Pedro Pascal?

He made you laugh, his sense of humour extremely morbid and sarcastic and his deliveries deadpan, but just smart enough to draw laughter out of you… And whenever you retorted with a smartass comment of your own, you swore you saw him smiling… Even if the mask was in the way, the corners of his eyes crinkled.

And you made sure to dutifully look away when he loosened his neck gaiter at the bottom, in order to stick fries and nuggets and his drink straw under it…

At midnight, you found yourself being dropped off at home… And just like it happened with John, you found yourself not quite wanting the night to end…

So you invited him upstairs.

-

It’s 5 A.M. when you find yourself waking up in his arms, stirring awake ever so slightly by his movement.

The sun is starting to rise, lighting the room ever so slightly, and making it so you can kind of see a few shadows of your furniture around the room.

Bleary-eyed and groggy, you rub your eyelids, finding Simon’s silhouette still next to you and looking at you.

“You alright?” You ask him softly, receiving a soft ‘Mhm’ in return. You pull yourself away from his arms, leaning up on one of your elbows to look at him.

“Had fun last night.” He tells you as he stretches a bit. “Should probably be heading back to base in a minute, though.”

Your bare leg rubbed lightly against his thigh which was still clad in denim, a consequence of the two of you having had some sort of… sleepover. That’s the best way of putting it.

“I’m glad. I had fun too… Weirdly enough.” You reply as you start to sit up in bed as well. “Never did think I’d end up getting… laid but… not. ‘Laid together in bed’, I guess?” You joke a bit, still too groggy to really make a joke.

“Can just call it cuddling.” He replies as he pulls the covers back a bit in order to sit up and turns on your bedside table lamp, lighting the room in a warm-toned orange-y light and casting shadows further toward the door and the hall.

He still has that neck gaiter of his on over his features, or… maybe he took it off and put it back on? You can’t be sure, you were asleep.

After coming home, you talked some more, played Mario Kart on your switch, watched a horror movie, during which he complained way too much about the realism of the blood splatter and the injuries… And then you kind of… cuddled to sleep.

“I think we both needed this.” You tell him as he nods his head. “Haven’t gotten a good cuddle in… well, ages… And you’re surprisingly comfortable.” You add.

“Definitely.” He tells you, his eyes squinting a bit again. “I… like you.” He admits.

“I… Thank you?” You reply as you sit up in bed next to him, eyebrows raised in surprise.

“That felt wrong to say aloud. Felt a little bit like a little boy in the playground.” He admits and chuckles at himself.

“Yeah… Well… I like you too.” You reply and chuckle as well at how silly it feels to say it so openly.

“Of course you do.” Simon retorts, his tone still flat and deadpan even as he spoke himself up and acted cocky.

“Oh piss off, Simon… It’s too early to deal with your shit right now.” You grumble and nudge at him with your elbow.

“Oh, c’mon… You dealt with it all night last night.” He tells you as he leans over, getting his face close to yours, the neck gaiter just softly grazing against your shoulder.

“Shut up.” You reply, a smirk on your lips. His eyes crinkle into a smile as well, which makes your smirk soften into a little smile.

You gently grab his face with his hand which makes his eyes widen and, as a reflex, he grabs your wrist and stops you from pulling down/up his untucked neck gaiter and show you his face.

This had happened a couple times last night. One of which was you trying to tuck a corner of his mask into his neck had earned you a grab from him, that only relaxed when you explained your intentions.

He’s a deeply mistrusting person, you’ve noticed… And you are strangely intrigued by it.

“Relax.” You tell him. “I’m not going to pull it off.” You assure him once more, which makes him relax.

Instead, you lean forward and press a kiss to his cheek, right on the edge where the mask meets his cheek, your lips softly brushing the stitching of the top of the gaiter. 

His breath hitches and his eyes close for a moment, seemingly basking in the warmth of your little kiss.

As you pull back, his eyes snap open again and he rushes forward, grabbing your whole jaw with his large, rough hand before pulling your whole face toward him once more.

His other hand moves the gaiter up just enough to capture your mouth in his, but not enough to earn you a glimpse of his features. 

His mouth is warm, his lips chapped and dry to shit, and his tongue is… Is that a piercing? Your eyes double in size when your tongue rubs against the cold metal nubs of his barbell piecing.

Simon’s eyes are open too, the corners crinkled in amusement at your shocked reaction. He keeps his grip on your jaw as your eyes slowly fall closed, giving into the kiss.

It’s completely different compared to John’s kisses, or Ethan’s back when you were together. Simon kisses like he wants to take your breath away.

After a moment, he pulls back, the neck gaiter quickly falls back down to cover his face and when your eyes open, it’s as if nothing happened. Simon is up on his feet, putting on his boots and leather jacket.

“We should do this again.” Simon tells you. “I’ll text you.” He adds and winks at you before turning and walking out of your room.

After a moment, you hear the front door of your apartment close and there you are, left sitting in bed, blinking away the shock.

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#ikea writes 💚 #it's a match! fic #cod modern warfare #cod fanfic #captain john price #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #text story #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #simon ghost riley x reader

[writingbyshiloh]

Third Time's the Charm

Request: Hii,if your request are still open can i request something for Gen V?Can you write something where Jordan and fem reader are childhood best friends and Jordan had always been in love with her but they feel insecure because they don’t know if reader will like them in both forms romantically?So when,in ep 3,Jordan dad goes like “Y/n and Jordan will be husband and wife” reader goes “Maybe we will be wife and wife”because she loves Jordan just like they are?

AN: Reader wants to be the first supe president (just to explain why they’re at the gala), I changed the timeline of the ep a tiny bit. I have another request about meeting Jordan's parents but that one might be more angsty.

CW: fem!reader, kissing, no beta, Jordan's parents are just their warning. The start is all flashbacks so I may have slipped on the tense a few times, no beta

WC: 2.0K

Jordan Li was your first kiss. Twice. The first time was in kindergarten, when they tried to kiss you and you smacked them with your Queen Mauve lunch box. Your second first kiss (the one you consider your actual first kiss) was done by you while playing truth or dare at 14. After picking a dare, you were asked to kiss the best-looking guy in the group. You shrugged and picked your best friend - Jordan. 

At age six, they were there when you broke your ankle trying to see if you could fly (you couldn’t). When you did get powers, they were the first person you told.

When Jordan came out to you as bigender, you did an internet deep-dive, trying to understand as much as possible.

Jordan listened to every interaction you had with your high school crush while quietly dying inside, wanting you to be happy. When your high school boyfriend cheated on you and then dumped you for the girl he cheated with, Jordan was there, ready to sink hours into their Xbox to keep you distracted.

The worst week of your life was when you didn't speak to Jordan for 9 whole days. You got into a petty argument where you called them self-absorbed and they called you clingy. The fight snowballed into yelling arguments and ended with you receiving a cold shoulder from Jordan. 

When Jordan got their wisdom teeth removed, you camped out in their room, snuggled under their duvet with them to watch Property Brothers for two days straight. You even made sure they took their painkillers on time and used ice packs.

Every fight with their parents, you were outside in your car ready to pick up Jordan to stay with you. Once you showed up at their house at 6:03 am, eyes blurry with sleep and still in pyjamas. Jordan was crying, bob haircut looked messy from sleep. You drove them to Vought-A-Burger, still half asleep and ate greasy breakfast sandwiches in your car until Jordan stopped crying. 

Jordan was even your date to prom, taking photos with you in their masculine form to get their parents off their back. Once their parents were happy, you snuck them back to yours, where you stashed their prom dress. 

You both even applied to God U together. Too nervous to check your acceptance, Jordan checked yours and you checked theirs. Sitting across from each other on your bed you both log in before giving the laptops to each other.

“Okay, three, two, one…” you counted down, opening Jordan’s laptop. Your eyes scanned for any promising words like congratulations, or welcome. "Accepted" was the first word your eyes caught but you need to fuck with them.

“Jord… I’m so sorry.” You start. Their face falls, and you feel like a dick for doing this. But the opportunity is too good to pass up. “That you believed me! Because you got in!”

They lunged across your bed to see what the screen says. You saw Jordan's eyes scan the same letter you just read, picking out the same words. 

“You’re such an asshole!” they told you, rolling their eyes, gently hitting your arm with the back of their hand

You’ve never been shy about showering Jordan with compliments. Saved in screenshots never to see the light of day, Jordan has kept some of them. 

You: OMG!!! Jordan you’re so pretty. I’m so lucky to call you my friend. 

You: You’re so handsome!!! I love your hair slicked back! If she doesn’t agree you need to drop her. 

You: ur a solid 9/10. Lost a point for not giving me a sip of your drink yesterday lol

Jordan Li has been in love with you since age 16. Probably earlier, if they want to admit that to themselves. You’ve only ever expressed interest in men so they kept their feelings to themselves, not wanting to make you uncomfortable, figuring it was better to have you as a friend only than not at all. 

In your first year, you were even roommates. While Jordan flourished in crim, you bounced between majors before settling into politics.

Every time you brought some frat guy to your shared dorm, Jordan died inside. Trying to get over their long-standing crush, Jordan did the same.

When Jordan made number 2 on the top five, you celebrate with them. Maybe a bit too hard that night.

You were there when their ranking dropped after the death of Brink. A man you only met twice, but you would do anything for Jordan. Especially given how hard you fell for both versions of them last year.

“I’m going to try to tag team with your dad, get some points for you and keep him engaged, yeah?” You ask over your shocker. Jordan is behind you, ready to help with zipper duty for your dress.

“You don’t have to.”

You let out a small scoff. “Dude. I’m doing poli supe. Schmoozing with rich people is like half our courses. Zip me up please.”

“How long have you known Jordan? You seem to be a good couple.” The man you and Jordan's dad suckered into a conversation asks. He's sitting beside Jordan's parents, while you and Jordan are on the edge of some fancy pit or table. 

“Well, these two have known each other pretty well over the years. Jordan tried to kiss her when they were kids, and she hit him with her Black Noir lunch box.”

“It was a Queen Mauve lunch box, actually.” You say with a laugh.

“And she called him ‘Jojo’ for probably the next two years out of spite.” Kayla laughs. It's a special embarrassment when your parents tell stories about your childhood. All the stories are about you but it's been so long ago you can’t remember any of it. Jordan looks worse off, slouchy posture against the banister, while you sit next to him. Part of you wants to tell him to sit up straight, but you figure you can play the grief angle better this way. 

“Oh, and remember when Jordan got his wisdom teeth out? You guys were inseparable. I think I still have the photo of you two passed out watching TV!” Kayla gushes, reaching for her phone to find the photo.

“We all thought you two would be president and First Gentleman.” Dad insists. Your smile is fake and tight, knowing if Paul pulls out prom photos, you would have to quietly fling yourself out of a window. 

Maybe you drank a bit too much liquid courage. Maybe the tension between them and their parents was getting to you. To give Jordan some space, you took their parents for a tour of your classes, knowing they’ll be talking to your family when they go back to Rochester.

Jordan shifting doesn’t even cause you to raise an eyebrow, the subtle sound just blurs into the background.

“Or president and First Lady.” You blurt out, four pairs of eyes darting towards you. “First supes in the Whitehouse? It would be political dynamite.”

“You like this version of Jordan?” Dad asks with bewilderment.

“Of course. I like Jordan because of how smart and driven they are. I like Jordan because of their weird sense of humour. It doesn’t matter what they look like.” you say, trying to prove it to their parents, but also to them. You’ve picked up on their crush many times, too kind to say something that would embarrass them or hurt them. It’s only recently how much you found yourself staring at fem Jordan and wanting to kiss her too. 

“I’m going to go and mingle some more.” says the man, Brad or Rob maybe. You forgot his name right after you met him. His words are like a bucket of cold water was dumped over you. You don’t confess your feelings to Jordan just to Jordan, but in front of their judgy parents, and a possible donner. You need to go. 

You stand and straighten out your dress. 

“I’m going to go too. Other donors to talk to. Go Jordan!" You finish with an awkward laugh and even more cringy go team! gesture by yourself. 

You didn't lie to Jordan and their parents. You did go and talk to other donors but it twists your stomach every time you bring up how amazing their grades are, or how skillful they are at fighting. After donor number three gives you an answer that technically was “we’ll see” but heavily implied to be "yes for Jordan” you went to hide in the bathroom. You have enough battery left on your V-phone to keep it going for most of the night. Tomorrow you can talk to Jordan and hope you don’t fuck it all up. 

You barely look up when the door opens, already have done too much for the day to care who it is. 

‘Hey, can we talk?” You snap to attention at the voice. Of course, you know that voice. It's Jordan, still feminine presenting. 

“Fuck, Jord, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have spring that on you. I promise I’ll just go back and try to get you some votes, you’re going through a lot.” You say, in a rush to get the words out, desperate not to fuck up you’re friendship. The rim of the sink is hard against your back but you can’t help but shrink into it. 

“Did you mean it?” They ask, still keeping a distance from you.

“Yeah, of course, I don’t want to ruin this friendship.”

“No, what you said in front of my parents.” 

Oh right. Your confession. Fuck. It's already out there, might as well keep it going. 

“I may, uh-” you curse yourself for leaving your drink outside the bathroom, wanting something in your hands to stall. “-have a crush. On you. My best friend.” You twist your hands together, wishing Jordan didn’t look so pretty. If your heart beats any faster you may go into cardiac arrest. 

It's Jordan that indicates your third first kiss. It's gentle, and fast, like the second one. She pulls back quickly, but you run your fingers through her hair and pull her closer. The intensity from the first first kiss is still there, only this time you both share it. Her hand smooths up to your face, thumb stroking your cheek in a silent invitation to open your mouth. You comply, and tilt your head into her palm. Her tongue sweeps into your mouth and you can taste the champagne they were drinking. 

The sound of the door opening makes you both jump.

“Stall?” You ask, voice low and hushed. You squirm out from where she has you between the sink and her. You push the door open to the nicest-looking stall, desperate to keep kissing Jordan. They follow your lead eagerly, one hand wrapped around your shoulder to keep you near. 

Dipping their head, they softly kiss your jaw before moving onto your neck. You silently thank the other two women arguing in the bathroom so that your gasp goes unnoticed. Giving Jordan's hair a small tug, you pull them back up to you. The shit-eating grin they flash you makes you want to almost get caught again. 

Your free hand moves to their waist, trying to get as close to them as physically possible. 

You pull back slightly, wanting so desperately to get lost in the moment, but the commotion in the other stall is distracting. Plus you’re nosey.

Jordan frowns when you pull away, eyes scanning your face for something they did wrong. You shake your head and tip it over to the stall.

“The fuck?” They mouth to you, hand still around your shoulder.

You gently push Jordan against the door to give yourself space to squat down. You see two pairs of feet in the stall across the wall. You hear the voices quiet down, before the sound of someone peeing. You frown slightly, weird fetish to do at a memorial gala but you hear rumours about students into more fucked up shit. 

“We should get outta here.” You whisper to Jordan. 

“Weird place for our third first kiss.” Jordan whispers back. You reach around them to unlock the stall door. Third first kiss. You replay the words in your head, a warm feeling blooming in your chest. 

You gently push them out of the stall, trying to keep your laughs quiet as you both scurry past the other couple in the stall. 

#I read it once for spelling and flow then released it to the world #jordan li x reader #jordan li x y/n #jordan li imagine #gen v x reader #gen v x y/n #gen v imagine #whew this got out of hand #time to talk about jordan

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Re your dream: That smacks of MobBoss!Thor. Your current boyfriend is one of Thor's higher-ups and he brought you along to a dinner meeting and Thor is immediately taken with you. Thor is of course very charming and starts working on how to steel you away from your boyfriend.

Take a Seat

Warnings: allusions to mafia/crime, intimidation, suggestions of verbal and mental abuse, toxicity.

This might just be a drabble, but I'd appreciate a reblog and some feedback! You are loved and appreciated. ❤️❤️❤️❤️

"Those are mostly capos," Travis keeps his voice low as he points to the table nearby, keeping the glass in hand to hide his gesture, "I think…" he cranes around, "I might be the only soldier here…"

"Really?" You raise your brows but quickly resume your neutral preen.

You're intimidated as it is. You don't know much about Travis' business, and this is your first time seeing it from the inside. However, it doesn't seem to be anything more than an overly fancy dinner party.

"Oh, and that's Loki," he darts his eyes sharply to a slender man strutting at the other end of the room. He has a short liquor glass in hand and stops to lean on close to a blond man along the head table, "the boss's brother. The one he's chatting up right now." Travis leans in, "Thor…" he explains, "hon," he puts his hand on yours, "try not to stare. Lot of guys in here don't appreciate it."

"Sorry, I…" your eyes catch the pair of blue irises at the near table. The ones set into the chiseled face of that man proclaimed boss, Thor. Your lips part in surprise before you quickly avert your gaze. "I'm just nervous."

"Yeah, uh, well, try not to look like it," he reproaches. "Maybe…maybe I shoulda come alone."

You try not to frown. He does that. When you go out to dinner, if you don't keep a smile pasted on, suddenly the night is spoiled. Or even at home when you're having a quiet night in, you can ruin the night with one wrong word.

"I'll keep my eyes to myself," you promise, "okay?"

"Right," he nods past you and greets another man as he passes by. "Make sure you do. And if someone says hi, don't be so shy. I don't need you getting on the wrong side of these guys." He grabs his glass and takes a gulp, "this could be my in."

"Got it," you pinch the stem of your champagne flute and draw it closer but don't drink. Better not, sobriety will keep you out of trouble.

💍

Travis ends up at another table, enthralled in conversation with a pair of greasy haired gangsters in patterned velvet jackets. You stare at the table, trying not to attract any unwanted attention. Dinner is over and dessert has mostly gone untouched. You're just waiting for the end.

Thinking of the drive back, you should try to hit the bathroom before that. You peek around cautiously and stand, hugging your clutch to your side as you carefully sidle out from between the table and chair. You keep your head down and make your way to the wall, following it to the short hallway that leads to a set of restrooms.

Inside, you take your time, relieved at the moment of privacy. As you wash your hands, you watch your reflection. You look tired even through your makeup.

You grab your purse and go back out. You hold back a yawn as you get to the end of the hallway and you stop to search the room, making sure Travis is where you left him. You take a step, nearly tripping as a deep voice rumbles from closeby.

You think of ignoring it, assuming they're speaking to someone else, but then you remember what Travis said. You turn and look around.

The blond man, the one with the burly shoulders that threaten the seams of his tailored jacket, grins at you. His fingers are woven together and his elbows rest on the table. He winks at you as you peer around in confusion, expecting someone else to be closeby. It's only you.

"You," he separates his hand and points in your direction, "I do not know you."

You open and close your mouth. You step closer as you swallow and find a smile through your nerves. You grip your purse tight and pronounce your name.

"I'm with Travis. Er, Mallory. My boyfriend. Uh, sir."

His eyes twinkle with amusement, "Thor," he introduces, "sir? Please, none of that is needed. Not for a pretty woman like you."

"S-thank you, Th-Thor," you sound utterly stupid as you try to keep your calm. If Travis saw you talking to this man, you know it would be bad. He wouldn't want you messing up his prospects.

"Sit," his invitation is more a demand.

You can't refuse. What little you know of this business suggests he is even more dangerous than Travis. You go around the table as Thor stands and pulls out the empty chair next to him. You sit and make yourself breathe.

"Boyfriend?" He resumes his seat, angling to face you, "not husband?"

"Not yet," you say.

"And why would he wait?" He wonders as you wilt against his handsome gaze.

"I'm sure he'll propose soon," you shrug, "dinner was great."

"Ah, it was delicious," he sits back, "though my company was not so pleasing." He bends his arm against the table, "not like you."

"I… thank you. That's very, uh, flattering."

"It's the truth. I'm afraid I was probably poor company myself. Being as distracted as I was," his eyes cling to you, "wondering who this beautiful stranger is."

You look away. He's charming, if not a touch cheesy. You don't know how to handle it.

"There you are," Travis saves you from your conundrum. "I was just thinking we should–" he stops and clears his throat, "sir," he stands at the end of the table, "hi, er, I didn't see you there," it's obvious his surprise is fake, "Travis Mallory, I work with Haakonson."

"Ah, yes, he is a reliable capo," Thor shifts and puts his hand on the back of your chair, "I was only just having a discussion with your… girlfriend."

"Oh? That's…great," Travis is less than convincing.

"Yes, I was just agreeing with her that it's really too bad you haven't proposed," Thor asserts and your eyes widen. "A girl like her should have a ring on her finger."

"Yea, sir, I agree, I, um, I was… trying to surprise her–"

"Ah, so you have a ring? Diamond? I think a teardrop becomes this one but she might do well with a princess cut," Thor proclaims as he takes your hand, drawing a wince from you. "She should be adorned in gold and gems."

"Sir, I know, I've been working on it–"

"Ah, ah," Thor keeps his hand on yours, "I don't like excuses. And she shouldn't settle for them."

Thor raises your hand and kisses your knuckles. You can only let him. Your scalp spatters with heat as you nearly combust between the two men.

"She deserves a throne… look at her, a queen."

"Sir, thank you. She is. I take care of her–"

"Do you?" Thor accuses, "how do you take care of her?"

You don't dare tug your hand away despite the urge to do just that. You sit frozen as his hand crushes yours. You slowly turn your head to glance at Travis, his cheek twitching in agitation.

"I…" he swallows and tries to wet his dry mouth. He can't yell this man into submission and he knows it.

"Let me give her the throne she deserves," Thor snickers and leans over. His nose tickles your ear and he lowers his voice to a whisper, "come, kitten, sit in my lap."

He sits back and you gape at him, shocked by his suggestion. No, it's an order. You blink and look at Travis again. Thor hits the table with his large hand, the plates and cutlery clattering.

"You don't need his permission," he pulls on your arm, "you need only my word."

"S-sorry," you slide forward in the seat and stand stiffly.

Thor releases your hand and shoves his chair back, running his large hands over his thighs. You step in front of him and he frames your hips, pulling you down before you can think to refuse. You fall into his lap, bracing his forearm to keep your balance.

"Now that is where a woman like her belongs," Thor leans into you and rests his chin on your shoulder, "with a king, not a peasant."

You look at Travis, horror pumping in your veins, a fear reflected in his drawn face. Thor brushes a hand up your stomach and turns his head to nuzzle your neck. The tickle of his beard makes you moan.

Thor lifts his head at last, his arm hooked around you as he clings to your tightly, "what a wonderful gift you brought me, soldier."

Travis does not move. He just stares, blinking as his fingers twiddle at his side. Your lip trembles. What do you do?

"You are dismissed," Thor enunciates harshly.

Travis bites down, jaw clenching tightly, and he murmurs, "yes, boss."

His sole scuffs as he drags his foot back. You watch him in disbelief. He's just leaving you there.

"You see, kitten," Thor reaches to pet your head, "he is not good enough for you. You deserve more than a coward."

#thor #dark thor #dark!thor #thor x reader #drabble #au #mob au #marvel #mcu #avengers

[sprout-fics]

Coyote Kiss

(Philip Graves x F! Reader)

(Call of Duty Masterlist)

Rating: Explicit, MDNI Wordcount: 3.1k Tags: Brat Tamer Graves, Bratty Reader, Motorcycle Graves, Date night, Banter, Bickering, Love/Hate Relationship, Messy relationships, Jealousy Warnings: None A/N: Hi. Here's more of the man I love to hate and hate to love. Forgive me.

He’s smirking at you.

There’s a low, fluorescent buzz to the diner amidst the distant sounds of the kitchen, the gurgle of the coffee machine behind the counter. You and Graves are tucked in a booth, far from the door, where the neon light of the ‘open’ sign catches against the shiny leather of his motorcycle jacket. There’s tinny music over the speakers, the 80’s you think, not entirely sure. You know if you try and guess Graves will only huff at you, correct you and lament about your poor music knowledge.

Smartass.

You can feel the toes of his boots brush against your ankles, and even though you aren’t looking at him you know he’s just waiting for you to comment on it, nudge him out of your space with mild annoyance. Instead you focus on the various laminated displays of greasy food inside the menu, burying your face so you ignore him. Yet even without looking you know exactly how he looks. Relaxed into his seat, arms crossed, head tilted in keen observation, and that damned smirk plastered across his smug face. 

“You haven’t looked at the menu.” You observe, still not looking at him, and you hear Graves shift to attention when you finally acknowledge him.

“Don’t have to.” He replies easily. “I’ve been here long enough to know what I want.”

Or so he’s said. It had taken some cajoling on his part to drag you this far out into the sticks, far away from the Shadow Company base. You’d expected him to commandeer one of the jeeps in the compound, puzzled as to why he told you to dress warm in the middle of the deadly Texas summer heat. Yet then your commander had led you off to a garage, had yanked a tarp back to reveal a pristinely kept motorcycle underneath. 

“Ducati.” He announced smugly, leaning on the bike and running an appreciative hand over the sleek black trim. “One of the best on the market.”

“How did you afford this?” You gaped at him, ignoring his bark of laughter at your open, astonished expression.

“It pays to be a government contractor, sweetheart. You ought to know that by now.”

He walked over to a shelf, tossed you a helmet. It looked brand new. You barely caught it, too transfixed on the motorcycle. Graves sauntered back over, tapped two leather-gloved fingers under your chin.

“Close your mouth, babygirl. You’ll catch flies.”

It had been clear from the get-go that Graves had planned this in excruciating detail, going as far as providing you with a spare jacket that even now remains draped across your shoulders, just a bit too large. You’d hopped on the bike behind him, a little hesitant to grab onto him, at least until he’d huffed and wrapped your arms around his waist himself. The warmth of him bled into your front, helmet tucked against his shoulder and thighs clenched to the bike as he’d sped off out of the compound.

You’d gotten some stares from the guards. There will probably be rumors across half the base by the time you both get back.

You don’t know how long you rode into the desert, the sun setting quickly and casting a brilliant orange haze across the horizon. Graves talked little, focused on the road, stopping only when he was required, planting a possessive hand roaming across the meat of your thigh. When you’d playfully smacked at it, he only laughed.

Eventually you had pulled into the diner just as the sunset faded and the flickering, lonely street lights had turned on. When he had ushered you into the diner, the older lady behind the counter had greeted him in cheerful familiarity. “Phil.”

She’s disappeared now, and you think you heard her mutter something to the much younger waitress about a smoke break. Left alone, you stare into the grease-stained menu and try to decipher the various contents in a vain attempt to not entertain Grave’s twinkling eyes.

He nudges you again under the table, boots pressing against your ankles, spreading himself wide and into your space in a way that’s meant to purposefully draw your attention. You know this ploy all too well, know that if you bite and decide to snip at him he’ll only rile you up further with gleeful audacity, until eventually he handles you into a biting kiss you can’t resist. It’s the constant game you both play, caught between a simmering annoyance that erupts in roaming touches and snipping banter even when you’re caught in his arms. You know the inevitable end of it, how you’ll end up in his bed, feel him haul your legs over his shoulders and tease you even then, smiling against your lips when he forces you to surrender in desperate, mewling gasps.

You pretend to hate it, fight him at every turn, rise to his jabs and return them with your own. It only feeds into his rampant desire for you, intoxicated by handling the feral nature of you, taming you with teasing endearments turned into rasping, sweet nothings as he buries himself inside you. You know you’ll go willingly even though you bite at him like something wild, slightly feral, knowing that at the end of this you’ll surrender to his carnal desires only because it feels so good.

You catch the waitress out of the corner of your eye, see her blonde hair cascade in girlish waves out of her ponytail, french-tip nails holding her ticketbook as she sways over to your table. She’s pretty, thin, looks like something out of those 60’s advertisements done in acrylic posters.

“What can I getcha, hon?” She asks, voice a thick Texas drawl as she cocks her hip, staring straight at Graves. Attentive. Suggestive. 

It makes your eyes narrow.

Graves looks up like he’s noticed her for the first time, offering a polite smile, different from the one he’s given you. 

“Coffee. Black.” He provides, slinging an arm over the back of his seat. “I’ll have the fried catfish sandwich and okra. Fries on the side, biscuits too.”

“Sure thing, sugar.”

Hmm.

You’re ready to order when Graves then points at you. You think he’ll pull a smartass move, declare your affinity for a fresh salad and fruit. Instead he supplies: “This little lady right here will have a burger, medium rare. The works, bacon, egg, all that. Plus onion rings and a coke.”

You open your mouth to protest, but find nothing to object to. In fact, when you frown in a mild pout, your stomach only rumbles in yawning hunger. Graves shoots you a look. 

“And no pickles.” He adds, grinning wolfishly. You’re not sure if you want to bite or kiss him.

The waitress scribbles down all of the above in quick shorthand. “Anything else?”

Graves purses his lips, considering. “Chips and queso.” He supplies with a small gesture of his hand. “Thank ya, darlin’.”

The waitress seems to perk up at that, smiling happily before striding off towards the kitchen. You watch her go, trace her back until she vanishes behind the swinging door, and only then do you catch Graves staring at you. 

“What?”

He raises an eyebrow at you contemplatively. “Am I not giving you enough attention, babygirl?”

Are you jealous?

You scoff, averting your eyes so he doesn’t see the flash of surprise and bashfulness that flickers across your gaze. “Hardly.” You tell him, and your commander only hums, pressing his boot a little more firmly against your calf.

You shoot him an annoyed look. “Quit it.” You grumble, and just as you expect Graves only grins, eyes twinkling at your bite. 

“Can’t help it.” He drawls. “I’m a long legged man.”

You tilt your head at him, a mischievous smile forming on your lips as you consider his words. 

“You’re 5’11.” You correct him. “I know plenty of Shadows that have a few inches on you.”

Graves’ eyes flash at that, and you know you’ve gotten under his skin just a bit by the way his gaze turns just a little sharp before melting back into easy confidence. 

“I compensate in other ways, darlin’. You know that.”

You thin your lips at that, know that for all intents and purposes, he’s right.

Graves takes in your silence and laughs, pleased. 

“Don’t pout.” He tuts at you. “If you need a reminder later, let me know.”

The last time he gave you a ‘reminder’ you’d walked on wobbly legs for two days afterwards, bruises tracing abstract patterns up your chest and throat. And Graves, damnable Graves, had strutted around the compound like a prized rooster crowing at the sun for all the things he knew he had done to you. You’d seethed about it, of course, his egoism, but even then you couldn’t stop the memory of him from poisoning the slow fester of your attraction to him. 

His hands on your wrists, your legs over his shoulders. The hickeys he’s sucked into your throat bloom dark against your skin. You toss your head under him, lips parted in desperate little whines as he grinds himself into you with unerring precision. His back is scratched to hell, and he moans at the burn of it, drunk on the hurt and the intoxicating process of watching your wild nature fold to utter, mewling surrender under him.

“Feel good, baby?” He drawls, voice hoarse with his groans as his hips slap against yours. It shakes the bed. “Can’t even talk because you’re so cockdrunk, aren’t ya, little spitfire?”

And you, you had given into him, had surrendered to his endearing, teasing taunts, had folded under him like you belonged there.

Your thighs threaten to close at the memory, and the motion doesn’t go unnoticed by your commander, who’s face lights up in realization. 

“Yeah?” He provides, shifting forward eagerly. “Bet you’d like that, babygirl.”

“Piss off.” You snap, even though the temptation of it roils inside you with undeniable interest.

Graves whistles, long and low, puckering his lips and feigning surprise. “I like that bark, sweetheart. You know I do, but…”

Graves leers at you.

“I like it better when you bite.”

You choke.

It’s not unlike him to be this brazen, far from it. Yet his taunting is usually reserved for the more private moments, the ones where he crowds you into the shadows of the armory or behind the barracks, seizes your lips in a domineering kiss until you gasp against him. He leaves you like that after, having barely touched you, smirking with that twinkle in his eyes and sauntering off to leave you exactly as he intended. Dizzy, chest rising, mind fuzzy with want.

Here, however, in this place with a sparse collection of other diners, where the blonde waitress peeks from the porthole of the kitchen door, you feel yourself warm under his intent stare, mouth pressing into a thin, flustered line as you avoid his gaze. 

“Look at me, sweetheart.”

You do, instinctively. That tone, when his voice dips lower, less playful,  heavy with intent, always summons your attention. It means listen, eyes up, come here.

You merely glance at him, not entirely turning. Avoiding him still, feeding into this game that you both enjoy so dearly. 

“Maybe I don’t want to.” You drawl, and you know if it weren’t for the table between you Graves would close the distance and seize your chin to make you look. You smile at that in a way he can see, watch the way fire flickers across his eyes at the rebellious streak in you. He loves it. Loves the way you refuse to obey. It’s a challenge he’s greedy to accept, a temptation he can’t resist. The act of making you surrender is an addiction in of itself, a warm swimming desire that feeds into his veins. He’s drunk on the act of taming you, can’t resist riling you up only to put you down. 

It feeds his ego, you think- his oozing confidence that doesn’t buckle even under artillery fire. Graves knows what he is capable of.

Knows he’s capable of taming you. 

Before he can respond to your taunt, the waitress reappears with an entire platter of food. Fries, chips, onion rings, queso, drinks, a burger, okra, and a piece of catfish perfectly fried. The steam wafts up from the linoleum table, and you can’t help your eyes fluttering at the intoxicating smell of perfectly greasy food. 

“Anything else, sweetpea?” The waitress asks in a sing-song little voice, still trying to draw Graves' attention. He looks up at her, tilting his head and softening his eyes just for a moment. You think he’ll flirt with her, maybe compliment her bright pink lipstick.

“That’s all.” He provides instead, short in a way that makes you blink as you watch the rejection pass over the waitress’s face. She nods distantly before vanishing, and Graves doesn’t give her a second glance before he’s lifting his sandwich up and tearing into it like a coyote with a piece of raw meat. 

You survey the table, the wealth of food you know you won’t finish. It’s decadent to the point of excess, and as Graves sucks the sauce from his fingers messily you blink at the spread. 

“Christ, Graves.” You breathe. “There’s enough here to feed the base.”

Graves hums around the next bite of his food. 

“I gotta keep my girl fed.” He provides through a full mouth, and when you scold him for manners he only grins at you before nodding to your burger. “I know you’re hungry, eat up.”

You grumble at him but happily oblige, biting into the meat of your burger. Flavor and warmth explodes across your senses, and before you can help it you moan.

Graves barks a laugh, nudges you once again under the table. 

“Atta girl.” He provides, and you’re too lost in your food to care about the slight mocking tone of his, eyes scrunching shut and savoring the next bite. 

“My little carnivore.” He croons, and you do nudge him with your boot at that, shooting him a glare. His eyes only twinkle with mischief before he returns to his own food. 

It takes time for you both to devour the table full of food with its queso laden chips and golden brown onion rings, the fries that leave grease stains on the wax paper. Graves waggles a piece of okra in front of your face, and you finally give into his cajoling before eating it straight from his hand.

When his knuckles graze under your chin, you resist the urge to bite him.

Eventually you slump back in your seat with a heavy, pleased sigh, hands over your full stomach and immensely satisfied at the warmth of the food that curls there. Graves sips at his coffee, and how he manages to drink it black after eating that amount of grease is beyond you. 

“Feel good, babygirl?” He asks, perhaps a little too smugly, but you can’t bring yourself to pay him much mind. 

“Mm-hmm.” You hum happily, a lazy pleased smile across your face as you look at him.

For a moment, you swear you catch something that veers dangerously close to tenderness.

“How am I supposed to get us both on the bike after all this?” He snarks instead, gesturing to the mess of empty plastic baskets and crumbs you’ve both left. 

You shrug, unable to hide a cheeky smile. “I could probably ride back and get a couple of strong shadows to haul you onto a truck.” You suggest, and in a rare moment of surprise Graves chokes on his coffee. You grin victoriously at him when he wipes at his chin before turning to you with his eyes narrowed. 

“Brat.”

You shrug. “Guilty.”

Despite the scolding, Graves is smiling, and you can’t help but smile back. 

You cringe when the bill is slid onto the table, but Graves doesn’t even blink when he deposits  a fat wad of cash before standing and bringing you with him. He keeps a hand at the small of your back as you both exit into the cool night air, and if you didn’t know better you’d swear he was being a gentleman.

Yet then the hand snakes up to your back, and you nearly stumble in surprise as Graves thumps you a few times between the shoulders. You spin to face him, eyes wide in indignation. 

“Are you trying to burp me?!” You gasp in mild outrage, and in perfect timing you have to swallow down a bubble of gas in hopes he doesn’t notice. 

Graves grins, amused and pleased at the mildly scornful look in your eyes. He merely crowds you backwards until your backside bumps against the motorcycle, his hands catching you by your hips before he hauls himself flush against you. 

You’re not ready for the way the blue of his eyes shift under the glow of the streetlamp, the sudden, dizzying desire he has when he locks his gaze on yours. 

“You drive me crazy, you know that darlin?” He rasps, voice dragging breathily in his chest. It makes you soften against him in your shock, the sudden rapturous fixation of his voice that almost speaks of devotion.

You swallow, heart thumping uneasily in your chest, caught on the razor’s edge of him, afraid that if you get too close he might bleed you dry. 

You almost want him to try. 

“You’re already crazy.” You manage instead, flashing him a mischievous smile that only barely meets your eyes. 

Graves laughs, and laughs again when you nip at his descending lips, a hand snaking up to cradle your skull and press you closer to him. Your hands seize the leather of his jacket in a desperate anchor, swept away by his sudden urge to devour you. 

You’re always hiding in some ways from him, you think, ever distant and out of reach. You feign irritation to quell the thunder of your heartbeat, teetering on the precipice of caution and dangerous desire. If you surrender completely, fall into his jaws, you know he’ll only gobble you up like a wild animal. You fear somehow he’ll chew you until you’ve lost your taste and then leave the remains of your broken heart withering like starved desert flowers. You’re not sure if you can take it.

Yet in this moment, in the laughing kiss he presses against your parted lips, you wonder if perhaps this is meant to be forever.

Taglist:

@alicesfracturedmirror @writeforfandoms

#graves x reader #graves x you #commander graves x reader #philip graves x reader #philip graves x you #reader insert #x reader #my writing #my fic #to add to masterlist #something something Graves is a wild Texas coyote #and I adore and hate him for it #if there's typos here I don't see them I'm not looking #anyways here's wonderwall ig

[keys-hellscape-1020]

You get captured

You get captured by the enemy, you don’t know where you are, or who you’ve even been captured by. Your boys better hurry up and come get you because time is ticking fast.

Platonic!141st x medic!reader

Warning: Angst, hurt/comfort, canon typical violence, heavy mentions of physical assault, being tied up against ones will, kidnapping, gore, mentions of death and dying, cussing, medical inaccuracies, military inaccuracies.

This was not how you were expecting this mission to go, to put it lightly.

Your head pounded, the pain raidiating through your skull, making you feel as though you were a rung bell. You peeled your eyes open, glancing around. You were in a dark, damp cell made of stone. The only light was from an old, flickering lamp that gently swung on a chain in the middle of the room. The door on the other side of the room from you was a large heavy looking thing. The only signs it was a door at all were the hinges on the side, and the small, barred window near the top of it. There was no handle facing into the room.

You struggled to piece together the memories of how you got here. You vaguely recalled rushing along an alley way, trying to meet up with your team mates, when you felt a hard *smack* to the back of your skull.

Ah that’s right. You’ve been captured. Those fuckers.

As your memories started to return you could feel your panic at the situation start to rise before you willed yourself to focus. Don’t give them the pleasure of a reaction, there will be time for that later. Focus.

Observing your surroundings you noticed that you were sat on a cold metal chair which your arms and ankles were tightly tied to with a rope. You pulled on your restraints, trying to see if there was any way you could gain an advantage in your situation, but the restraints were tight, and you could feel rope burn developing already.

Suddenly you heard a loud THUD outside of the door, and there was the small sound of metal hitting metal over and over again. Then the door was pushed open, the stone on the bottom of the door dragged across the stone floor with a horrible screech, forcing you to attempt to conceal a wince.

Out from behind the door came a shriveled looking man. If you had to guess he was about 5’6. He had pasty, greasy skin and looked under weight, although it was hard to tell due to the fact he wore a black suit a size to big for him. He wore no shirt under it, revealing his flabby chest. His facial features looked sunken in, yet somehow at the same time engorged from all the excess skin that hung at the edges of his face. He was clean shaven, with a large bald spot bordered by thin wire-like white hair that was coated in grease. He was closely followed by two large men on either side of him. If you had to guess they were the size of Ghost, if not bigger, but it was hard to get a good read between the fact that they were covered in tactical gear and the poor lighting in the room.

The slimy man slunk forward, approaching you with a sneer that pulled up the flaps of skin on his jaw unnaturally, his two body guards followed closely behind him, starting straight ahead, unbothered about the fact that the light hanging from the ceiling brushed the top of their heads.

“How are you feeling?” The greasy man crackled, putting his face far to close to yours, his breath stunk of rotten fish, and his teeth were yellow and more stumps then anything else.

You did not give him the pleasure of a response, only staring straight back into his shark like eyes. It would take much more than bad breath to make you break.

“I really am so sorry about this.” he began, placing a hand on your shoulder and walking around you. You swore that you could feel his hand leave a trail of slime as it passed along your shoulders and the back of your neck.

He stopped in front of you once more. “I just have a few questions. I’m sure you understand how this… business goes?” He asked.

“Who are you?” You asked, willing your back to remain straight and constantly reminding yourself to maintain eye contact. Don’t give him the pleasure of a reaction.

His sneer, which has been consistent up until now, faded at that. Instead it was replaced with a stomach curling smile.

“Oh? Oh oh oh, come on now!” He cackled, his eyes almost seeming to bulge from his skull. “That’s not important!”

“What is important,” his voice dropped into a sudden whisper, the smile dropping from his face in an instant, “is where those documents your friends found are. So, care to share?”

You kept your face neutral, projecting what you could only hope was a display of perfect calm, as you leaned forward to look him right in his beady eyes. “Go fuck yourself.”

His skin started to stretch and bulge again as his mouth pulled up in to a smile and he erupted in giggles that sounded almost like radio static. Seriously what is wrong with this guys voice?

“I was hoping you’d say that!” He yelped, the sound reminding you almost of a hyena. How they laugh when they’re hunting. How they derive joy from others pain.

“Have at em’ boys.” And with a final sickening smile in your direction he walked out of the room.

~

Your time here so far had been absolute hell. After that very first beating they tossed a bag over your head and dragged you to another room. This room was similar to the old one, except it had a flimsy cot in one corner and a bucket in the other. Not to mention it was far more filthy.

You could only assume these people operated on a 24 hour schedule, and if the lack of daylight hasn’t completely fucked up your sense of time yet you’d deduced that you’ve been here about a week.

Everyday was the same. You’d wake up on your flimsy cot, and have nothing to do for hours but contemplate when, if, you’d ever be saved. With each passing day that if was getting bigger and bigger.

A little after your daily crisis two large guards would enter your cell, restrain you with a bag over your head, and drag you to another room. Once there and secured by multiple pieces of rope the bag would be removed and you would be greeted by the horrible image of grease man and two of his goons.

He would ask you multiple questions, you wouldn’t answer, and thus he would leave his goons to beat you. Following that they would bring you back to your current residence.

Shortly after your daily beating two guards would enter your cell. One would point a gun at your head while the other would set down a tray of food, if you could call it that, on the floor. The substance on the tray was simple, to put it nicely. A small cup of water, paired with a small stale bread roll, and maybe half a cup of some kind of strange, greasy vegetable mush. Is this what made the guy who was obviously in charge so greasy? You hoped you wouldn’t stay long enough to find out.

And thus that was your routine today. You sat on your cot after your tray was collected by the guards. You could feel the festering wounds on your ribs, given to you the first day you got here. The pus in them told you they were getting infected. God you hoped your boys found you soon. What the fuck were they doing?

You shifted on your cot, taking inventory of your most recent injuries. You had multiple bruises on your face, and you feared you had a concussion, as when you stood up the world spun and you felt weak. Although that could very well be because you were being given practically no food or water. You also could barely walk, you suspected a broken knee the cause.

Your clothes were absolutely filthy and you are sure you smell like shit. You’ve been left in a tank top and cargo pants. Everything else had been taken when you’d gotten captured. Including your socks and shoes, to prevent you from getting far if you ran you suspect.

And then, unexpectedly, a large guard burst into your cell and stood in front of you, aiming a gun at your head. You leaned back on your cot, calming observing him as two more men hurriedly came into your cell, one of them being the slimy man in charge.

“You are going on a little trip.” He growled, anxiously glancing over his shoulder at the guard behind him.

You kept your vision on the guards gun that was in front of your forehead despite the spark of excitement in your gut. Don’t give them the pleasure of a reaction. “Nice gun.” You quipped, trying to mask your feelings.

The guard evidently did not appreciate your compliment as he yanked you up onto your feet, causing you to wince as your knee screamed at you, and he roughly tugged your arms behind your back and secured them with a zip tie. The other guard quickly approached you and tugged a bag over your head.

There would only be one reason they would move you on such obviously short notice. Someone was raiding their base. It might be your boys coming for you or it might be someone else and they’re taking precautions. Either way you had to treat it like the latter, this could very well be your only opportunity to escape.

You struggled to orient yourself as you were dragged through the complex. You tried your best to note corners and the sounds around you but you were being dragged more than you were walking and you could barely force yourself to stay conscious.

As you turned another corner you heard a loud bang of metal hitting something. A door opening? You were dragged forward and felt sunlight on your skin, you never thought that you would miss that feeling so much.

Just as you were basking in actually being outside you heard the loud screech of a plane overhead, and then the whistle of bombs being dropped. Fuck.

You heard the guards yell something, they pulled and pushed but you couldn’t tell what was happening, and then, all at once, an impact.

You flew back, your travel stopped by violently crashing into something. A wall? You could feel intense heat in front of your still covered face, it was almost painful. You knew that you had to move, now, but your knee was screaming at you from you putting your weight on it and your ribs hurt worse than ever. It would be fine to just take a little nap right? At least you would die in the sunshine.

You were startled out of your nap by someone roughly throwing you over their shoulder, causing you to let out a pained grunt.

“Sorry Stitch but we have got to move!”

Wait a minute you know that voice. Don’t you? You at least recognize that name, there isn’t many people who call you that.

The person was running, you could recognize that at least by how much they were moving, every time their shoulder moved it jostled your ribs causing you to let out a pained groan.

After what felt like a century they slid to stop, shrugging you off their shoulder and placing you against a wall. They yelled something you couldn’t make out and then the bag was off your head and you could see again.

Hovering in front of you with his brows furrowed in concern was Price. He reached behind you to quickly free your arms.

“Stitch! Are you alright?” You heard someone yell over the sound of gunfire. Turning your head you saw Soap next to you. You hadn’t even seen him there.

“Evac is in 1 minute! Hold position!”

Who said that? Price? Where did he go? He wasn’t in front of you anymore. You tried to will yourself to focus, being this out of it in an active war zone guaranteed death.

You attempted to ground yourself by taking stock of your surroundings. You’re on a roof, placed against a wall. Soap is on one side of you, peaking out from behind cover to fire at who you could only guess were your kidnappers. Price was on your other side in a similar situation, but where were Gaz and Ghost? Did they not come or are they just outside your line of sight? You hoped they were okay.

Your vision was swimming. How long had you been awake? It felt like forever. You leaned your head back against the wall. You could just rest for a moment couldn’t you? Your boys would wake you up.

~

You were stirred awake by your body being jostled side to side, and the loud sound of wind rushing past. You had to will yourself to wake up, were your boys alright? You could never live with yourself if they got hurt retrieving you.

You slowly peeled your eyes open, and your suspicions were immediately confirmed, you were in a heli.

“SITCH.” And with a call of your name someone’s arms were wrapped tightly around you, causing you to yelp in pain as they constricted your ribs.

“Let up Soap!” You heard a raspy voice bark from the other side of the Heli, causing you to lift your head to look at them. You were met with Price, who was looking at you with obvious concern. You never thought you would be so happy to see his horrible, horrible, hat.

Soap pulled back to hold onto your shoulders, being much more gentle now but still keeping a firm grip.

“Scared the shit out of me Stitch.” He admitted, raising his voice to be heard over the Heli. Despite his loud volume the look in his eyes told you that he had nothing but soft intentions.

You rocked forward to tackle him in a hug, which he immediately returned, taking care to be far more gentle this time. Gosh you missed him.

Pulling yourself partly away from him you called out, “Is anyone hurt?” Only hoping your voice was able to carry over the sounds of the heli.

Gaz leaned over from where he was sitting on your other side to put a hand on your shoulder. “We’re all fine Stitch, worry about yourself for once!”

“What he said!” Price called out, giving you a pointed look that clearly said “Rest for once in your life or I’ll make you.” Ghost simply nodded his head, but you could tell he was questioning your sanity at being help captive for a week and the first thing you ask them is if they’re all alright.

“We are landing!” You heard from the front of the heli. Nik? You never thought you would be so happy to hear him.

As the heli cruised down to the base you saw a stretcher and medical personnel waiting, one of your boys must have called in your injuries.

The heli landed and your boys systematically got out until it was just you and Ghost left. You attempted to stand to get out but started falling over as soon as you got your legs underneath you.

Before you could hit the ground Ghost quickly wrapped one arm, with a gentleness you did not know he possessed, around your waist. He brought your other arm around his shoulders and gently and slowly helped you walk. He let you limp along, yet he was still supporting most of your weight, he knew he would at least want to walk out on his own two feet if he had just survived a week of torture. You deserved the same respect.

And so he helped you make your way slowly out of the helicopter, and assisted you in sitting down on the stretcher as the rest of your boys watched. As the medical personnel rolled you away you gave one final wave towards your boys. You couldn’t thank them enough for this.

~

You were getting increasingly anxious to see your boys.

It had only been about 6 hours since you were brought in, and you are sure that if they had been allowed to they would’ve come in already, but doctors and nurses were still anxiously fluttering around you, although thankfully the scans and blood tests were slowing down to a stop at last.

You were in a hospital bed, the smell of antiseptic was comforting and reminded you of home. It reminded you of long hours in the medical bay tending to your boys stupid injuries, yelling at them for not taking care of themselves, what you would give to go back to them right now.

You were roused out of your daze by a sound coming from the other room, the lobby? It was hard to tell where it was coming from.

The doors flew open, (unsurprisingly, you really needed to teach them how to open doors normally) and Price came stomping in.

“It has been 6 bloody hours! I want to see them damnit!”

“Captain I know your upset but we’re running tests, please step outside.” Said a nurse who quickly came up to try and push him back outside.

“Price!” You croaked, your voice was shot to hell and back due to all the smoke you had inhaled earlier.

He immediately rushed over to your side and gently brought you into a warm hug, you could feel his shoulders shaking slightly, was he crying?

“Kid I am so fucking sorry. This never should’ve happened on my watch.” He said sternly as he pulled back to look you in the eyes. Contrary to what you suspected he wasn’t actually crying, but his face was getting more and more red by the second and he was shaking fiercely.

You pulled him back into a hug, (on a list of things you missed, Price’s hugs definitely make top 10).

“Don’t say that. You did everything you could, it was my own fault that I got captured.” You said, attempting to soothe him.

He pulled back once again, and you had to suppress a whine as his heat and comfort left you. Let me hug you damnit old man!

“No. It is no one’s fault but the bastard who captured you. Roger?” He asked strictly, looking you dead in the eyes.

“Check Captain.” you said, your eyes filling up with tears. You missed him, you missed this, so much.

Your emotional moment was interrupted by someone clearing their throat, causing you to turn your head.

There stood the rest of your boys in all their glory. Their presence was not helping your emotional state as once you caught sight of them the tears started flooding out of your eyes like a waterfall.

Gaz and Soap immediately sprung into action, both of them leaping forward to wrap you in a hug as gently as they could. Price fell back to let them comfort you but kept a hand on your shin the whole time to remind you he was there. Ghost didn’t join in on the hug but he was rubbing gentle circles on your back, his presence was quite but his intentions could never be lost on you.

You had a long, long road of recovery ahead of you, there was absolutely no denying that, but with your boys by your side you have no doubt that you’ll make it.

Just after one more question.

“Hey guys, which one of you ordered those bombs dropped on my head?”

Silence.

“OHHHHH would you look at the time? Ghost don’t cha’ remember we have that uhhh meeting! Yeah a meeting!”

“At midnight Soap?” You asked, completely deadpan.

“Yep! Y’know those people in charge! No sense of time! Come on Ghost!” And with that your local Scotsman ran from the room with his tail between his legs, Ghost following behind with a sigh.

“I’m gonna kill that fucker the moment I can walk again.”

#key writing #modern warfare ii #call of duty modern warfare #cod #cod mw2 #taskforce 141 #141 x reader #ghost mw2 #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #ghost cod #mw2 soap #john soap mctavish x reader #cod soap #john soap mactavish #soap x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #mw2 gaz #gaz x reader #john price x reader #john price #price x reader #mw2 price #cod price #cod x reader #mw2 x you #mw2 x reader #x medic!reader #feast my children #more x medic!reader for you

[moonstruckme]

My birthday is in like 2 weekd (the 13th) so I just wanted to make a quick request before I forget :)

Can you write a poly!marauder x reader when it’s readers birthday and she doesn’t have enough time to celebrate so they throw her a surprise party at like midnight?

Hi lovely! Hope I timed this right with the time zones and all, but if I did, happy birthday! Hope you're enjoying it despite your time constraints :)

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 718 words

When you get home from your shift, your hair is greasy, your feet are sore, and you’d normally be ready to collapse into bed but tonight you’re buzzing with excitement despite the late hour. 

The thing is, you’re a birthday person. It’d be easier if you weren’t, because unlike some of your friends who get to celebrate on school breaks or take time off work, you were born smack in the middle of nearly the busiest time of the year. It’s almost like it was prophetic; you were predestined to be in a rush before you’d even left the womb. 

Still, you’re excited for the little things you do get to do to celebrate. James is baking you a cake, and thought you don’t have time for anything on the actual day—tomorrow—you’ll probably go out for a small belated birthday dinner next weekend. It’s not everything you could ever want and more, but it’s what you can do, and it’ll still be fun. 

The house is quieter than you’d expect as you shuck off your shoes. Normally at least Sirius would still be up, but you suppose it is pretty late. Your boyfriends were undoubtedly tired from their own days at work. You shrug off your coat, and suddenly every light in the house is turned on. 

“Surprise!” The collective shout nearly knocks you over, but James appears behind you, laughing as he steadies you by the waist. 

“Whoa, babe, did we getcha?” he asks. 

“I—what?” You shake your head, gawping at your friends, who have materialized all around your living room. “What are you all doing here?” 

“Oh, don’t play coy,” Sirius says, coming over to secure a party hat on your head. “We all know you haven’t forgotten your own birthday.” 

“But—I—it’s tomorrow,” you stammer helplessly, getting past your shock but unable to accept that this is really happening. It’s too good to be true. 

“Not anymore.” He rolls his eyes at you, but his touch is fond as he adjusts the strap of the hat under your chin, knuckle brushing your cheek. “It’s past midnight, babydoll.” 

“You’re old now,” Marlene says, holding a plastic cup up as if toasting to the fact. 

Sirius hums, peering closer at your face. “She’s right. I think I see wrinkles.” 

Your laugh comes loud and sharp, and James’ arms snake around your waist, drawing you back into him. “Oi, leave the birthday girl alone,” he objects.

“We’re all younger than you, Pads,” Remus reminds him, coming from over by the kitchen to bring you a drink. You take it with a smile, and he pecks you on the cheek. “Happy birthday, sweetheart.” 

“Thanks.” You beam, feeling blood rush to your cheeks at all the attention. “Thanks for doing this, you guys, this is…just, beyond nice of you.” 

“It’s no problem.” James gives your middle a squeeze. “Figured if we couldn’t do anything during the day, a midnight celebration was the way to go, you know?” 

“Oh, don’t take all the credit for yourself,” Sirius argues, pinching at James’ side so he yelps and covers his body with yours. “All he did was make the cake, Moony and I did everything else.”

“And by Moony and I, he means that he picked out what he wanted and I made it happen,” Remus says drily, though the look he gives you is soft as mush. “I’m glad you like it, though, lovely girl.” 

“I really do,” you say, cheeks hurting from the force of your smile. “Thank you so much.” 

Remus smiles, and James rests his chin on your shoulder, fondness oozing from all three of your boyfriends. 

“Alright,” Lily says, “if you guys wanted y/n to yourselves, you shouldn’t have invited the rest of us.”

“Hear hear!” Marlene hoists her cup up, liquid sloshing dangerously close to the rim. You think you see Remus wince for your couch. “Shall we have cake and sing?” 

“Absolutely!” James declares, hands sliding to your hips for one good squeeze before he releases you, heading into the kitchen. “Wait until you all see my masterpiece. This is what I should have done for a living.” 

“You’ll want to prepare yourself, gorgeous,” Sirius whispers to you. “I saw it in the fridge earlier. It’s a monstrosity.”

“Be nice,” Remus murmurs. “He tried his best.”

#poly!marauders #poly!marauders x reader #poly!marauders x fem!reader #poly!marauders x you #poly!marauders x y/n #poly!marauders x self insert #poly!marauders fanfiction #poly!marauders fanfic #poly!marauders fic #poly!marauders fluff #poly!marauders imagine #poly!marauders drabble #poly!marauders scenario #poly!marauders one shot #poly!marauders oneshot #james potter #sirius black #remus lupin #james potter x reader #sirius black x reader #remus lupin x reader #the marauders #marauders #marauders fanfiction #marauders fandom #hp marauders

[bunnylovesani]

The Bratty Belle

Chapter 3

Summary: You drop your car off at James' shop and spend the day together, bonding more than expected when you receive a distressing phone call that makes your dark past come to light.

Tw: mentions of abuse/molestation/suicide

WC: 4k

Anxiously slamming the door shut, you got into your rusty car and started the sputtering engine. You almost lost control several times on the short drive over to James’ garage but tried your very best to park as sensibly as possible once you spotted him standing outside in his striped work suit, wrench in hand. 

“You okay?” He asks tentatively as you exit the vehicle, shortly after hitting the curb.

“Yeah! Yeah, great.” You squeak, brushing some dust off your dress and stumbling over to him in your clacking heels. He looks like he’s about to say something about your driving skills but just about manages to hold it in. 

“Come on through, I’ll give you the grand tour.” He opens the door and gestures for you to enter. A shiver courses through your body when his hand brushes past your lower back as you skip into the garage. 

“It’s not much but it’s mine.” His voice echoes against the walls of the open space, tall ceilings and greasy oil spills in abundance. 

“I like it!” You chirp, eliciting strange looks from some of his colleagues who wondered what the scantily clad floozy was doing in their workshop. 

“Uh, guys- this is Bunny. I’m servicing her car.” James explains once he catches sight of their puzzled expressions and they nod at you courteously. “Through here is my office.” He continues the tour and guides you to a small but sleek room complete with a desk and computer. “Leave the car with me overnight and I’ll have it ready for you in a couple days. Do you need some driving lessons while we’re at it?” He chuckles as he leans on his desk, crossing his dirtied arms. 

“I can drive perfectly well, thank you very much.” You huff, cheeks flushing at the memory of the cat you almost ran over on the way here. 

“James, where’s your other tool kit- you know the one-oh. Hey.” A brunette woman with a button nose and a blue flannel shirt pops her head in. A flannel that looked suspiciously similar to the one James wore the other day.

“Hi.” You quietly reply, insecurity enveloping you. She saunters over to him and rests her elbow on his shoulder, brushing past you lightly in the process. “We have to get the Beetle fixed by Tuesday- the woman called to push the deadline up.” 

“Seriously? Who does she think I am, her personal servant?” James recoils and the woman chuckles. 

“Relax babe, you’re all knotted up.” She chuckles as she massages his shoulder lazily with one hand. 

“Oh, and this is Bunny. Bunny, meet Vanessa. Vanessa, Bunny.” He points between you while tiredly pinching the bridge of his nose. Your lips form into a thin smile as you feel yourself shrinking. 

“Aw, she’s adorable. Shy too. What’s she doing here?” She looks you up and down broodingly. 

“Ask her yourself.” He pushes himself up off his desk and gives you a subtle wink as he heads out of his office. “Bunny, give me your keys and I’ll park the car into the garage. Meet me out back.” 

You nod obediently as your gaze follows him out, eyes eventually meeting Vanessa’s in an uncomfortable silence. 

“So. You’re his new neighbour, huh?” Vanessa opens up a pack of gum and takes a seat in James’ chair, not offering you any. 

“Yeah. Moved in last week.” You shuffle nervously under her unfaltering gaze, steely and cold. 

“And you’re already getting a free servicing job out of him. You work fast.” She smacks her lips and you scrunch up your nose at the strong scent of spearmint emanating from her.

“Oh no, I have every intention of paying him for all his-“

“He told me not to charge a cent for this job. Told me to put all costs on his card.” She interjects monotonously, making a stark difference to the chirpy demeanour she had when he was around. 

“Oh. Well, I didn’t know that.” You reply earnestly, feeling a slightly threatening aura lingering in the air.

“Now why would a cold, self-absorbed man like James suddenly want to start doing charity work well into his 30s?” She scans you scrutinizingly and the hair on the back of your neck stands up. 

“Are you accusing me of something?” You reply boldly, sensing her opinion of you had already been formed. 

“I don’t know, Bunny. That depends on what your intentions are.” She straightens up in her seat and blows a bubble with her gum. 

“James is waiting for me.” You head out towards the door, wishing for an end to this painfully tense interaction. 

“You sure that’s not all he’s waiting for?” She quipped and it took every last bit of strength to ignore her, continuing your march out the door.

Pacing to the garage where James told you to come, your head spun with confusion; why would he want to pay for you? You knew the parts wouldn’t come cheap and he’d made it clear he wasn’t trying to pursue a relationship with you- so what did he want? 

“That was quick. Thought you and Vanessa would’ve been chatting for a while longer.” He comments as he slams your car door shut, having just reparked it. “What’d she say to you?” He asks suspiciously after seeing your perplexed expression. 

“Nothing. Just didn’t find the conversation too riveting. Would rather see what my favourite mechanic was up to.” You joked, stepping closer towards him. He raises his bushy brows and cracks an earnest smile, pearly whites contrasting against his sweaty, tan face. 

“So what’s the verdict? Is she wrecked beyond repair?” You ask, peering over his shoulder to observe the rusty hunk of metal you called a car. 

“Of course not. I’ll have her good as new by the end of the week.” He pats your shoulder as he walks by you. “Let’s go for dinner.” 

“Oh?” Before you can even object, he’s unzipping his work suit and walking towards his truck. 

“Get in.” He opens the passenger side door and you find yourself jumping in without a second thought. 

“Burger and milkshake sound good?” He starts the engine with a roar and you nod in response. “Get this on.” He reaches around you and clips your seatbelt into place. 

“Thank you.” You’re filled with confusion over his strangely paternal behaviour as Vanessa’s words echo in your head. 

Glancing over to your left, you ogle the way he keeps a firm hand on the steering wheel, tapping the leather with his fingertips. His side profile is so entrancing, chiselled jawline and Adam’s apple framing his strong features perfectly.

“What are you staring at, you little creep?” He grins and you snap your head back to face the front. 

“You have something on your face. Bit of smudged oil.” You point at his cheek unconvincingly, hoping he doesn’t check in the rearview mirror.

James pulls into a parking lot outside a quaint little diner and parks the car carefully before jumping out to open the door for you. You got the sense that he wasn’t usually such a cautious driver. 

“A girl could get used to this.” You giggle as you take his hand and hop out of the car, walking with him to the entrance.

“It’s concerning that you find basic chivalry impressive.” He mutters, guiding you to a chequered cloth clad booth in the corner of the establishment before taking a seat with a heavy huff. 

“You tired?” You ask, sitting prettily opposite him. 

“Long day. Like every day.” He looks away, grabbing the menu a little too fervently. “What do you want?” 

“Oh, umm...” You peer over and scan the menu but the endless options have your head spinning- you’d always been infuriatingly indecisive. 

James patiently waits for a couple of minutes as you flick through the extensive pages before summoning a waitress over with a raised hand. 

“I’ll have a hamburger and coffee- leave the jug- and a double cheeseburger and strawberry milkshake for the lady. Don’t forget the fries.” He fires out and hands the sluggish waitress the menu back. 

“How’d you know that was what I wanted?” You squeak out, watching the waitress ring the order up in the kitchen. 

“Lucky guess.” He winks. “Too hungry to wait for you to analyse the whole menu. Hope you don’t mind.” 

“No, but a double along with a milkshake might be a little much?” You giggle, remembering how you’d eaten already before you came by. 

“Well, I have to keep you full. I can’t imagine how grumpy you get when you’re hungry.” He shakes his head at the thought. 

“Here’s that milkshake for the lady and a big ole jug of coffee for you, handsome.” The waitress saunters by and pours his drink into a mug, bending over to accentuate her cleavage. 

“Thanks.” He looks her up and down for the briefest moment before ducking his head, weaving it away from her to meet your eyes again. “How’s the shake, kiddo?” He smiles as you take a sip from the stripy red straw.

“Delicious. But I make it better.” You flirt, noticing the sulking waitress frowning as she trudged away.

“I’ll have to taste it sometime.” The expression on his face is calm and sincere with a hint of something in his eyes that you can’t quite explain. 

“James?” You intoned, dragging out his name. 

“Yes, Bunny?” He played along. 

“That day before you came over for the first time, were you arguing with someone on the phone?” You queried innocently, knowing already that he was. 

“You could say that.” He sighed and waved his hand dismissively as the food arrived, delivered by a waiter this time.

“Who with? It looked quite heated.” You coaxed, keen to know more.

“You talk a lot. Eat your food.” He shuffled uncomfortably in his seat before taking a big bite out of his burger. 

Not wanting to push his buttons any further, you abandon your curiosity for the time being and tuck into your meal.

You and James exchange several glances as you eat in a comfortable silence, that familiar bubbling feeling rising in your chest every time you made eye contact. Once you’d finished, James swiftly paid the bill- leaving no time at all for you to voice your protests and effectively silencing you by getting up and heading out the door. 

“Thanks for the lift home.” You murmured once you’d gotten back into the car and he looked at you with an expression that neared disgust. 

“What was I supposed to do, leave you to walk home after I’d taken you out? Honestly, what kind of fucking idiots have you been hanging around?” He scoffs, shaking his head and you shrink down into your seat. 

He wasn’t wrong, you’d never been around the gentlemanly type before and spending time with James was making you shamefully aware of that. 

“Would you like to come in?” You ask sweetly, swaying on your tiptoes once he’d walked you to the front door. “I have some more of those girl scout cookies you liked.” 

“Maybe just for one.” He chuckled at the mention of the sweet treat before strolling into your apartment. 

“Here you go.” You retrieved the pastries from the kitchen and handed them to James, who was standing patiently in the arch under your doorway with an endearing smile painted on his face. “I added some other things I thought you might like.” 

He inspected the transparent bag laden with cookies, cinnamon swirls and chocolate croissants- lovingly wrapped with a satin pink bow. 

“It looks so pretty, I don’t even want to open it.” He stares at it in disbelief. “Thank you. This is so nice. No one’s ever….you really made all this?” 

You nodded and his earnest gratitude warmed your heart. 

“I should be the one thanking you.” You brush your hand against the side of his arm. “I’ve never been shown so much kindness.” 

“Jeez, kid, it was only dinner.” He chuckles.

“And it’s only some cookies.” You assert and he stares at you with a look of understanding unlike one you’d ever seen before. “I know about the car too. Vanessa told me.”

He curses under his breath and looks away, almost looking embarrassed. 

“And you don’t even want to sleep with me. I’m confused, James. Why are you being so good to me?” You stare into his eyes searching for an explanation. 

“Bunny, how can you even say that?” He grabs your face affectionately with furrowed brows before awkwardly retreating his hand a moment later. “You…I don’t even know what to say to that. As if that’s the only interest a man could have in you.” 

“Well, isn’t it?” You ask dejectedly.

“Of course not!” His hands settle for holding your wrists, needing to touch you in some way but not wanting to overstep. 

“So what reason do you have?” 

He looks so conflicted that it takes him a little while to form his next sentence. 

“You seem like a good kid. If I can help you out, I’m happy to.” He replies with a heavy sigh- as if he’s releasing thoughts that shouldn’t be there. 

“And your girlfriend doesn’t mind?” You ask curiously. 

“It doesn’t matter what she thinks. My business is my own.” You look down and notice how firm his hold over your wrists still is. “And I wouldn’t go as far as to call her my girlfriend. We’ve only been out on a couple dates.”

Try as you may, you couldn’t stop the wide grin that spread across your beaming face.  You expected him to scold you in his usual cocky manner- to make some kind of comment about how that didn’t mean he was interested but he simply smiled back. 

A shrill ringing filled the room and you recognised it as the sound of your phone. 

“One second.” You giggled at James and he nodded, stepping aside to answer your call. Looking down at the bright screen, you saw it was your step-sister calling. 

“Daisy?” You picked up hesitantly- you weren’t exactly on speaking terms.

“Dad’s in the hospital. It’s not looking good.” Her grave voice exhaled and a shiver ran down your spine. You hated when she referred to him as your father.

“W-what’s wrong with him?” You ask with morbid curiosity.

“He was in an accident. Hit head-on by a drunk driver on his way to work this morning. You need to get here!” She choked back tears. 

“I don’t know, Dais…” Your mind flooded with childhood memories of your stepdad. Not a single one was pleasant. He might’ve been Daisy’s dad but he sure as hell wasn’t yours. 

“What do you mean you don’t know?! There’s no question, you need to come here and see him now!” She shrieked, desperation laced in her voice.

“I told you I’d never set eyes on that man again. This doesn’t change that.” You tried your best to sound stern despite the pain that was building. 

“I can’t believe you’re being so selfish. Distancing yourself from your family just to prove a point when we already know you lied.” The venom in her voice strikes you to your core. 

“I have done nothing but tell the truth. You all chose to take his side.” The tears started spilling. “My only real family was my mother. And he is the reason she’s no longer here.” 

“She’s got no one to blame but herself. She took the easy way out. I guess you’re a coward just like her.” 

“I hope he dies. Slowly and painfully.” You spit down the line before hanging up and throwing your phone across the room, a sobbing fit racking through your body. 

“Hey, hey, what’s the matter?” James rushes over, wrapping his arms protectively around your shoulders. You’d forgotten he was even here but you were glad to be shrouded in his warm embrace. 

“My stepdad…he’s dying- and I’m happy about it? And I think I might’ve messed things up forever with the only family I have left. I’m a terrible person.” You choked out the words between snivels. 

“I don’t know about the rest but I know for sure you’re not a bad person. Calm down sweetheart, everything’s okay. I’m here.” You weep into his chest, staining his shirt with thick tears. “Why do you hate your stepdad?”

“Wh-when I was a kid, he’d - well he’d-“

“Take your time, angel.” He pulled you in closer when you struggled to get the words out. 

“When my mom first married him, he’d sneak into my room at night and do things to me. I was too scared to say anything. He said it’d be our little secret.” You shudder, feeling more vulnerable in this moment than you had in years. 

“Bunny…” James looked distraught, his face contorted and twisted into a look of disbelief, sorrow and disgust. “And you feel bad for wishing he’d die? If the bastard survives, I’ll go to that hospital and finish him off myself.” 

You stop the stream of tears for just long enough to gaze up at him pitifully- in a state of utter confusion that someone could feel so much empathy for you. 

“And I take it your stepsister doesn’t believe you?” He continues, rubbing your back in an attempt to instil you with calm. 

“No.” You sniffle. “She thinks I’m making it all up.” 

“Did your mother know?” He asks cautiously, careful not to upset you any further.

“No, no I hid it all. It was only a couple years ago that I worked up the courage to let it all out. Thought it would help but it turned out to be the biggest mistake of my life. It filled her with such regret and shame that she didn’t even get to finalise the divorce before she… she couldn’t live with herself knowing she’d let that happen to me. So she, she-“

“It’s okay, sweetheart.” He pulled you down on the couch, sweetly kissing your forehead and smoothing your hair as you cried your heart out. 

“Daisy’s right- I am selfish. If I’d never said anything, she would’ve still-“

“Don’t.” He interrupted you. “Don’t you dare blame yourself.” 

You were used to being rattled beyond repair whenever you came into contact with your stepfamily- but you weren’t used to having someone alongside you to pick up the pieces. Something so unfamiliar had never felt so good. 

“Will you stay with me?” You asked with such tooth-rotting sweetness you were sure he couldn’t refuse. His eyes darted back and forth and he licked his lips in thought.

“Like, for the night?” 

“Yes. Just one night. Please.” Your reddened, glassy eyes looked up at him sanguinely. 

“Of course.” He whispered, rubbing the side of your cheek with his thumb. “Anything you need.” 

Your faces were barely 2 inches apart but your gaze was stolen by his soft lips, plump with temptation. He said anything you need, right? Leaning in a little more until the tips of your noses were touching, you planted a gentle kiss on his parted lips. They rested against each other for a moment before James kissed you back, snaking his hand into your hair as he brushed his lips against your own passionately. 

“Wait.” He pulled away with a wet smack. “You’re vulnerable right now. This is wrong.”

“Then why does it feel so right?” You attempted to close the gap between you but he backed away again, imposing an ever bigger distance. 

“Bunny.” He warned, not budging. 

“Okay. I’m sorry.” You looked down in shame. 

“Nothing to be sorry for.” He looked out the window and you both suddenly became aware of how rapidly night had fallen. “Let’s get you ready for bed, hm?”

“But what about-“

“I’ll sleep on the couch.” He quickly resolves the matter and stands up before heading to your bathroom. “Come on, let’s get that makeup off.” He beckons you and you slug over to him. 

“But I look awful.” You sulk, hesitant to reveal your natural face to him despite crying most of your mascara off. 

“That’s not possible.” He mumbles in a low voice, handing you some pre soaked cotton pads. 

You swipe the black streaks away and wash your face as he leans against the ledge of the bathtub. 

“All done. Are you gonna run away screaming now?” You playfully cover your face with your hands but he stands up and tucks your wrists down. 

“You’re perfect.” He stares right through you, not letting you wriggle out of his grasp until his words sink in. 

“Thanks.” You mutter uncomfortably, not sure what to make of the feelings he was bringing out in you.

You amble over to your room and change into your pyjamas; James being the gentleman he was closed the door behind you and waited patiently.

“You can come in.” You call out and he enters after a few moments to find you in your comfiest set of fluffy pyjamas. “Usually I wear something a little more cute but today, I just-“

“Stop explaining yourself.” He interrupted you again. He loved doing that. “You’ve never looked cuter. I like my girls a little fuzzy.” You giggle and playfully slap his hand away as he pinches your side. 

“Thought you said you don’t see me in that kinda way.” You questioned teasingly.

“And it’s time for bed, little lady.” He chuckles and you throw a pillow his way. “Under the covers, c’mon.” 

You shuffle into bed as he tucks you in, folding the frilly duvet in around you until you were safely cocooned. 

“Alright, all tucked in. You gonna be okay?” He raises his eyebrows with the cutest concern and you nod drearily. “I’m right next door if you need something. Good night, sweetheart.” He places a gentle kiss on your forehead before turning the lights off and walking out. 

After several hours spent tossing and turning, you resign yourself to a night of no sleep. The cogs in your mind whir with dizzying speed and the memories that resurface make you nauseous. You shook your head every time the image of your stepdad, twisted grin beaming down at you took shape but it wasn’t enough to clear your dirtied mind.

Sitting up with a huff, you turned your bedside lamp on and wondered if James was asleep yet. Creeping out the door, you heard his light snoring from down the hall as you tiptoed to the living room. 

He looked so peaceful snuggled around the thin bedspread you kept on your couch but it dawned on you that in your distress, you’d forgotten to give the man a proper blanket. Quickly backtracking to retrieve a quilt, you grabbed your favourite pink one before going back to precariously swathe him in it, trying not to rouse. 

“Mm, Bunny?” He whispered sluggishly, still half asleep. 

“Just giving you a blanket. Go back to sleep.” You hushed before turning around to walk away but you felt a strong grip wrap around your wrist. 

“Are you okay?” He opens his dreamy blue eyes and sits up a little.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine. Just can’t sleep.” You admit, already feeling bad that you’d woken him up.

He shuffles back a little before grabbing the corner of the blanket and lifting it up. 

“Come on. I know you want to.” He smirks and you bite your lip shyly. 

Moments later, you’ve crawled in beside him and you’re enveloped in his arms- the musky scent of his faded cologne lingering under your nose as you press your face deeper into his chest. He held a protective arm around your shoulder as yours lay slouched around his waist, the heavy weight of the duvet pressing down comfortingly on you both. 

James fell into the arms of Morpheus soon after and the gentle hum of his breathing resonated through the night, helping you fall into the most peaceful slumber you’d had since you were a child. 

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[emilio-the-dumb-wrestler]

Please make me grow. I need to have testosterone enough for 50 grown men. I need to be a muscle freak

Increased testosterone has sooo many side effects. And yet you want the dose of 50 men. I find you in the gym looking at one of the biggest men there working out. A 21 year old jock from the local college. I grin as I set my magic in motion. You’re none the wiser as you continue to walk on the treadmill like a sloth.

Walking to the locker room you walk smack dab into the chest of the jock were you just watching. Your mouth even caught some of the sweat that was dripping from this pecs. He patted you on your head. Laughing. Even his sweaty hands left sweet on you as he continued to walk away back to the weight rack Little did he know your change is trigger by DNA. His DNA specifically. You sit down on the bench sweating more than usual and you begin to take your shoes off noticing how much more wet they are.

Your feet are leaving wet foot prints everywhere but what’s even more is that they aren’t your feet ! You flex the. And bend the toes but they aren’t yours ! Yours legs begin to get hairier and more muscular and you’re not even sure what to do. The changes speed up and you begging to sweat even more as you member bulges out and your underwear drops down from the weight it’s not holding. Your abs become defined as your arms bending to blow up with muscle along with your chest. Every inch of you is covered in thick greasy sweat at this point. You go to the mirror. Leaving those wet footprints in every step of your wake and you watch in shock as your face transforms into that of the jock you were watching earlier. You’re not a sex at copy of him. Only you are so much more. You have the testosterone of 50 men compared to him. And to make sure no one is any the wiser I have stuck him in your old body. Weak and feeble. He’s being forced to act like you but in his kind he knows something is not right and he screaming for help.

You go back to the lockers. Smelling like Bo. Sweat dripping from every inch of your body. You find his duffel bag and begin to get dressed in your new clothes. Even his regular clothes are covered in sweat. And they smell rancid as though they have been cleaned. Sliding on his socks even they are damp. Sliding on his shoes they are wet from all the his body produced. And that was before the boost you got. Even more is the size of them. Being much larger at a size 16. You’re going to be lumbering around in his body for the rest of your life now. I suggest keeping water nearby. You don’t want to dehydrate you sweaty stallion.

[bettyfrommars]

Death Becomes Us

Part 8: Warm Hands, Frozen Hearts

vampire!eddie x supernatural!reader

masterlist playlist

18+Only, werewolf!steve, allusions to smut, allusions to devious deeds, mention of addiction, mention of drinking blood, angst, waitress!erica, Bob Newby lives, Chief Hopper sighting, as well as another glimpse of vampire!max.

summary: you go on your "just friends" date with werewolf!steve, but meanwhile, Eddie makes a bold decision and things heat up between the two of you. Jareth's interest in you grows stronger, as does his determination to find out exactly who/what you are as everything begins to come to a head.

word count: 4.8k

author's note: for the sake of this story, Jareth is meant to be a cross between Jamie Campbell Bower and Eric Northman from True Blood. As a little reminder, The Upside Down exists in this story, but not the same way it does in ST. All of the ST characters in this do not know each other in the same way they do in the show. But, Steve and Robin are friends, because, well, always.

Fanger: derogatory slang for Vampire

Previous Chapter here

One week earlier

Steve was summoned to visit Sacrament in the Upside Down, and he should have gone with a few of his brothers in the pack but decided he didn't want company.  He snuck out there through the portal in the woods in his hulking wolf form at first, to sniff the place out, noting the high number of vampires and demobats circling overhead.  

He came back the next night in his truck, through the bridge, and was told to ask for Craven at the bar.

Craven sniffed the air and snarled when Steve walked up, and Steve returned the gesture, curling his top lip to show that he had sharp teeth too.  Werewolves were very strong—supernaturally so—but they were not immortal like vampires, and so it was always wise to operate around bloodsuckers with a measure of caution.

“I’m here to see Jareth,” Steve shouted over the synth music, squeezing in between two scantily clad human women.  

Steve was dressed like he’d just come from chopping wood in the mountains in a plaid button-down and jeans, and a wholesome curl of dark hair that bounced over his forehead.  Craven, on the other hand, was tattooed from neck to hands, wearing a wife beater that fit tight around his muscles and slicked back hair that was a bit greasy, but in a sexual way.  

“No one sees Jareth without an invitation,” Craven said smugly, throwing a rag over his shoulder to brace his hands in front of him.

Steve gave a wry smile.  “You think I’d come here just to shoot the breeze with you Fangers? He knows I’m coming.”

Craven clicked his tongue disapprovingly and went to grab the phone on the wall above the cash register, but in the blink of an eye, Jareth was already standing there, right next to Steve. He must have watched him come in on one of the cameras mounted on the ceiling. Steve moved back, out of surprise, but then he stepped forward again, meeting blonde, vampire Jareth eye to eye, letting him know he wasn’t afraid.

Steve really wasn’t afraid; his alpha ego was too big for that. Sure, he knew there was a chance that an older vampire might best him in the end, but he’d get the fight of his life.  

“Whatever he wants, it’s on the house,” Jareth told Craven, all while never taking his eyes off his guest.  

Steve declined a beverage and followed in Jareth’s wake through the sea of people moving to the music under the blue lighting.

Back in the simple black and cream decor of his office, Jareth found his firey assistant Maxine sitting behind his desk and he waved her out.  

“Oh? You didn’t tell me we were adopting a pound puppy,” she teased with a deadpan delivery, keeping a bored expression on her face.  

Steve knew they’d be taking cheap shots at him, he’d prepared himself for it.

“Get out, Maxine,” Jareth said impatiently.  “I need to have a word with our lycanthrope friend here.”

She obeyed, slinking out the door in her skin tight latex dress and platform heels, smacking her glossy lips in Steve’s face as she went.  

Jareth was in all black with a slim leather jacket on that looked like it had been tailored just for him.  He perched at the front of the desk, crossing his booted feet at the ankles, and folded his arms over his chest.

“Take a seat,” he told Steve.

Steve glanced down at the chair in front of Jareth.  “I’ll stand, thanks. What is this about?”

“You really don’t know why I’ve asked you here?” Jareth’s face looked like it was carved out of stone. “Do you need a hint?” 

For the first time, Steve broke eye contact.  “I don’t have any news about the girl.”

Jareth tilted his head back, so that he was looking down his nose at the visitor.  “You’ve been keeping an eye on her, like I asked?”

Steve gave a tight nod. 

The truth was that Steve hadn’t accidentally bumped into you at the bookstore that day two months ago; he knew where you would be and he’d sought you out.  His pack were in league with what some would consider “vampire royalty” and they made a lot of money doing jobs for them. 

At first, he started looking out for you because Jareth told him too.  But after around the third week, he realized he was protecting you because he cared about you.  He didn’t trust anyone from the pack to watch your trailer after dark, so he did it himself.  There were a few nights when he swore you’d looked out from your kitchen window and saw him: two red eyes glowing in his honey brown fur.  

“What’s your interest in her?” Steve chanced, knowing full well that Jareth would not answer it if he didn’t want to.  

“She says she’s human, but I don’t believe her,” Jareth raised an eyebrow.  “There’s something else going on with that one, and until I find out, I don’t want any harm to come to her.”

You weren’t human, Steve knew that from the first smell.  You were part human, part something else, as if your blood were filled with static from a television.  

“I asked you here because I need you to get closer to her, to see if you can find out anything more about her…condition.”

Steve didn’t like this anymore, he felt like he was being dishonest to you, and that one day you’d find out he was hired to watch you instead of being the avid science fiction lover he’d claimed to be.  Every time he interacted with you lately, he wanted to mention it, but he couldn’t figure a casual way to say, “hey, I’m being paid to watch you, I sleep in the woods outside your trailer a few nights a week, but I’m starting to have feelings, and was wondering if you were free for dinner?”

Steve pulled his shoulder’s back, puffing his chest out a bit.  “If you want to know more about what she is, why don’t you just ask her, man? What’s with all the cloak and dagger?”

Jareth pushed off the desk and walked over to look at a piece of abstract splatter art on the wall while he spoke, clasping his hands behind his back.  “My presence at her trailer park would certainly ring some alarms, I’m sure you are not so dense,” his tone was condescending but proper.  “I don’t want anyone, especially Munson, to know that I have any interest in her. Not yet, anyway.”

Since Steve had been watching you, he was also well aware of Eddie’s comings and goings. “Eddie hasn’t interacted with her in weeks, not that I’ve seen,” Steve told him.  “Appears like the two are avoiding each other.”

Jareth scoffed.  “I’m not particularly a fan of his, but when Edward has a job to do, he does it well,” he turned from the painting and went around the desk.  “My gut tells me that he has something up his sleeve, and my gut is never wrong.”

Steve let the information sink in.  “You don’t think Eddie would hurt her? He’s a car thief and a drug dealer, but not a killer.”

Jareth bent down to pretend to look at some paperwork, but then his eyes lifted to Steve and he smirked. “Is that what he told you?”

“We’ve never really talked but—”

“I’ve been doing my own investigating, but until I get some answers, just get close to her however you can, I want to accelerate this end game.”

“And what endgame is that?” Steve’s voice was low and commanding as he pushed the sleeves of his flannel up to reveal the generous muscles in his forearms.  He rested his back against the wall, not sure he wanted to know the answer. 

“The official endgame, Sir Harrington,” Jareth’s striking, ancient blue eyes gleamed.  “Is none of your business.”

—---

“Sorry about that,” you told Steve as you climbed into the cab of his truck. “I had no idea he was coming over.”  

You were apologizing for Eddie, of course, and the way he’d been giving Steve the death stare when he’d come to pick you up.  The snow was coming down harder now, in huge wet flakes the size of quarters, plopping like dissolving puffs of cotton onto the windshield of the truck.

“Was he bothering you?” Steve asked protectively, glaring at the door to Eddie’s trailer while you fumbled with your seatbelt.  

“No, he’s…he’s just a friend,” you said, trying to blink away the flashes of all of the sex dreams you had of him that were ricocheting through your head. 

After Eddie had stepped out of your trailer and shut the door, he’d stood on your porch for a minute, taking his time to light a cigarette before slowly making his way over to his place.  He made eye contact with Steve a few times through the windsheild, wondering if he should kill him.

The inside of Steve’s big old truck was warm, it smelled like winter wool and the yellow vanilla car freshener he had hanging from the radio knob.  The song Working Man by Rush played low from the speakers.  

You’d heard about the Werewolves of Hawkins from Bob and Argyle when a few of them came into the bar one night.  Apparently, they were very reclusive and only ventured to town in human form every so often.  

“Have you never seen a werewolf before?” Bob Newby, the owner of the bar you worked at, asked you with a tilt of his head and a curious smile.  “They’re all over the woods.  Beautiful creatures.”

He’d said it so casually, as if a man turning into a wolf and roaming around at night was the most normal thing in the world.  

“Are there no werewolves where you come from?” Argyle asked while he wiped down a bottle of tequila.  

You moved your eyes as if to think.  “Uh, nope, not that I know of anyway.  Hawkins is the only place I’ve ever heard of them ever existing before.  What’s next? Are you going to tell me that Faeries and Shapeshifters are real too?”

Bob and Argyle exchanged a knowing look.  Bob gave you a consolation pat on the back, “one day at a time there, missy.  Let’s give you a chance to get used to werewolves first, and then we can move on to the next.”

That night in the darkness of the movie theater with Steve, you turned to whisper in his ear.  “Can you change into a werewolf whenever you want, or only during a full moon?”

He chuckled, leaning in so that his cheek was on your head. He was so warm, you wondered if he had a fever.  “When you’re a pup, in the early days, the transformation happens at the most awkward times.  Once we get older and learn how to control our emotions, we can go through the change whenever we need to.”

“Like right now?” Your lips were close to his neck, breath tickling his skin, giving him goosebumps.  

The side of his mouth moved against your forehead. “Just say the word, darlin’.”

Your hands fumbled together a few times while reaching for popcorn at the same time, and a voice in your head said:

This is nice

Steve is nice

Steve was a good guy who probably thought you were a normal woman who’d led a fairly typical life, and you worried you were misleading him.  

There were a few times though, after the movie and on the ride back, when you felt like he wanted to tell you something, but then he would stop short.  He’d rub the back of his neck and start out with, “yeah, I’ve been meaning to talk to you,” but then he’d shake his head and jump to another topic.  

Steve cursed to himself at how bad he was fumbling the night, he felt like he was a goddamn teenager again. 

The only thing he knew for sure after that night was that he liked you a lot, and more than ever he needed to cut ties with Jareth. He’d been meaning to break free from the politics of the pack to become a Lone Wolf, and this felt like the perfect opportunity.  He was next in line to be Alpha, but it was a role that he had no interest in playing.  

Parked next to the hearse in front of your trailer again, the snow had stopped, but it was up to your ankles now, and you couldn’t help but notice the light in Eddie’s living room was on.  

“Here, wait, let me walk you,” Steve insisted.

“No, I’m good,” you were already on the ground, looking up at him across the seat.  “If Bela hears your voice too close to the house, she’ll just go nuts again.”

You'd told him about your new companion earlier, and he looked at you like you'd decided to take in a pet dragon.

“I’ll wait here until I know you got in okay.” Steve said softly, giving you a nod.  “Hey, are you doing anything tomorrow night?”

“I’m, well, I think–” you stammered.  Was Steve about to ask you on an actual date? “I might pick up a shift at Main Vein tomorrow night.”

“There’s going to be a reading at the bookstore, and I promised Robin I’d help string some lights and set up some chairs.  So, I’ll be in the neighborhood if you want to get something to eat or, whatever.  I’d really like to see you again.”

He said the last part in a rush, partially hoping you wouldn’t catch it.

The admission made your cheeks hot under his steady gaze.

You told him you’d stop by if you weren’t waitressing, and at your front door with the key in the lock, you turned to wave at him one more time over your shoulder before slipping inside to flip the deadlock behind you.  You closed your eyes and leaned against the door until you heard the rumble of his truck growl onto the main road, and then you flipped the lights on.  

“Mr. Wonderful couldn’t walk you to the door?” 

The voice made you jump and a scream caught in your throat.

Eddie was sitting on your couch, arms stretched out over the back of it, as if it were his trailer and he’d been expecting you.  

You let the shock of it subside, taking a long breath to slow your heart rate. 

You hung your bag on the hook by the door and started to shrug out of your coat.  “You know, when I invited you in, I didn’t mean break in whenever you felt like it.”

“I didn’t break in,” he lowered one arm and rested that hand between his legs. “I know where you hide your spare key.”

“It’s not funny, Eddie,” you threw your jacket on the recliner.  “I’d like you to leave now, please.”

“How was your date?” He bit out the last part.

“I’m not answering any of your questions,” you stopped in your tracks and looked around, suddenly alert.  “Where is Bela? I don’t hear her.  Eddie, if you did anything to her, I will —-”

“I would never hurt her,” he moved to stand up, and under his breath he added, “or you.”

“So?” You flapped your arms out, impatiently, blood pressure spiking.  “Where is she?”

Eddie came forward and put a finger to his lips, motioning for you to lower your voice.  He guided you down the hallway, ignoring your protests, until he arrived at your bedroom door and turned the knob, opening it slowly.

Bela was curled up on your bed in a blanket, breathing heavy like she’d just been dosed with a tranquilizer.  

“She broke out again while you were gone,” he whispered.  “Blew the bathroom door right off its hinges and came scratching at my door like maybe I had you.”

Your eyes went to the window across the room, seeing that there were boards hammered over it now, which was more of Eddie’s handiwork.

Feeling you softening at his side, Eddie pulled the door closed with a click.  You were having a hard time meeting his eyes.  You’d been so mad at him, so ready to scream and kick him out into the snow.

“She let you hold her?” You asked, noticing that you no longer had a bathroom door, Eddie must’ve taken it out to fix it.

“I'm charming, what can I say?” he shrugged.  “And I gave her some of my blood from a little eyedropper.”

“You what?” You spun on him, appalled.

“Don’t sound so horrified,” He put his hands on his hips once you reached the kitchen.  “They need vampire blood to calm their nervous system.  She’ll sleep like a baby now.”

In the book you were reading, the author did say that demobats who drank regular doses of vampire blood seemed to fare better than the others, but you’d decided to disregard that information as speculation.  

“In that case, I guess I should say thank you,” you opened the fridge and took out the Brita water filter and a glass from the cupboard.  

Eddie crossed his arms over his chest and leaned his thigh against the counter.  “Did that Steve guy try to make a move on you or what?”

You frowned at him.  “Listen, you don’t get to invade my space and bombard me with personal questions.  Why does it matter so much to you what we did?”

“I don’t trust him,” Eddie had his eyes trained on one spot in front of him, studying a patch of air while he worked his jaw.  

“If it’s any comfort, I don’t think he cares much for you, either.”

Eddie’s head spun to look at you.  “What did he say about me?”

“Nothing!” You clarified, raising the tone of your voice to match his. “He didn’t mention you at all, actually.  It’s just a feeling I got.”

You took a drink, and when you put the glass back down, Eddie moved in, bracketing your hips with his hands on the countertop, caging you there while he searched your eyes.  “Did he kiss you?”

You didn’t answer right away, and so he asked it again.

“Did he kiss you?”

The way his lips hovered there so close to yours made you swallow hard. The air between the    two of you crackled with electricity.  You waited for his eyes to go black, for his fangs to eject, for him to take your blood into his mouth like he had that night in the alley.  

“Would it bother you if he had?” There was an air of pleading in your tone that you had not intended to be there.

Please let it bother you.

Eddie slid his bottom lip through his teeth and leaned back, stepping away from you.  “I just think you should keep your distance from him, that’s all.  Werewolves are notoriously…” he trailed off as if searching for the right word. “...undisciplined.”

You wondered about Eddie’s discipline, how hard it was for him not to go the rest of the way and claim you just then.  To sink his teeth in and suck on that nectar of yours that he craved so deeply.  You could see the desire in his eyes, the way the brown irises melted into umber and his pupils expanded.  

You would not have stopped him, that was the final truth of it.

In that moment, you knew that if Eddie Munson wanted to kiss you, you would not put up a fight. 

You would not pull back and ask, “what are you doing?”

You would just know. 

“I changed the bulb in your porch light, by the way,” he added on his way to the door.  “Noticed it was out.”

You did not turn to watch him go, you kept your back to him.  “Thank you again for Bela and for boarding up the window.”

He mumbled something under his breath that made you look over your shoulder.  “What was that?”

He stopped in his tracks with his hand on the doorknob, hair long around the shoulder of his leather jacket.  “I said, you know where I am, if you ever need anything.”

Eddie stepped out onto your front porch and exhaled a shuddering, long-held breath.  He shut his eyes and rubbed the heels of his palms into them.  “Holy shit, Munson, you are such an idiot,” he scolded himself, feeling a sprinkle of snow again on his flesh.  

He took a step down and then paused, thinking he should go back in.

Thinking he should tell you…everything.

Maybe you would understand.

Maybe you’d lean into his kiss and pull him closer.

Maybe…

But then the shadow of uncertainty shrouded him and he kept going.

—-------

You ended up covering for Argyle behind the bar the next night while he went to California for a week, and thankfully it was a slow shift because you were still figuring out what alcohol went in which drink.  But then a crowd of people on their way to the poetry reading at Robin’s came through, and two of them were vampires, so you had to get out the manual to remember which synthetic blood type to use in the various mixtures.

“Another whiskey with a beer back for the Chief,” Erica scooted up next to you and tapped your arm to get you to lean in closer to her.  “Do you think he’s waiting for someone?”

Jim Hopper was in a booth by himself in the dimly lit room, facing the door, and you had noticed that he seemed very interested in getting a good look at everyone who came in that evening. He still had his uniform on, since he was only recently off the clock, and he was tapping his knee and chewing on the side of his fingernail with some type of anticipation.

You knew that if you got closer, you’d be able to get a better read on his emotional state.

“I’ll take it to him,” you said to Erica, and then the two of you talked about the movie you went to with Steve because she hated it and said she was angry those were two hours of her life she could never get back.  “I can’t believe you let a werewolf take you on a date,” she squinted.  “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were looking for trouble.”

You moved around her with both of Jim’s drinks and winked.  “I’m the one who’s trouble.  They come looking for me.”

“Oh I believe that,” she quipped in your wake.

The closer you got to Jim, the more you could sense the yearning inside of him.  There was desperation with sadness around the edges, and the hint of a familiar sinister urge, much like you’d felt with the Klemps all those weeks ago.  

His eyes met yours only briefly when you set his drinks down, and then you asked if he wanted one menu or two.  

“Not tonight, thanks.  I’m waiting for someone, and then I need to split,” he nodded as he warmed the whiskey in his big hands and wiped a sheen of perspiration from his forehead.

Well, there was your answer.

You and Hopper both looked up when the door opened that time, and you were pleasantly surprised to see Steve standing there.  Shoulders broad in his plaid shirt and his luscious head of hair looking wild from the wind outside.  His face lit up when he saw you. 

“Hey stranger,” you walked over to him, beaming.  

Steve had been pacing out on the sidewalk between the bookstore and the bar for the past 15 minutes trying to decide if he should go in or not.  By the way you were smiling at him, he could tell he'd made the right decision.  

“Hey, you,” he gave a smirk and raked his big hand through his unruly hair a few times.  He glanced around at the 8 or 9 customers.  “Do you have a break soon?  Or can I bring you anything?”

“My shift is over in an hour,” you talked as you returned to your station, waving at Bob through the serving hatch.  Steve rested his elbow on the bar.  “I was thinking I’d make my way over to the bookstore if you’re still around.”

“Oh I think I’ll be around,” he assured, tapping his knuckles on the wood, not wanting to sound too eager.  Out of the corner of your eye, you caught Erica glaring at him.  She was not much of a fan of the supernatural.  

Right behind Steve, a strikingly beautiful woman with short black hair and red lips strolled in. She had a long leather coat that she pulled tightly around her as she walked, and she appeared to know exactly where she was going, strolling over with ancient grace  to Jim’s table.  He stood up to greet her, and then they hunched across the table toward each other as if they were telling secrets.  

You realized you were staring as you spotted a tiny vial of dark liquid in her palm just before she slid it across the way to him under a cupped hand.  

“I’ll come back when you’re finished,” Steve said a few other things, but your mind had not retained them.  “We can walk over together.”

“Sure,” you said absently.  The mysterious woman with Jim got up and left after only a minute or two. Jim downed the rest of his drink, left a tip, and exited out the back, putting his hat on as he went.  

A bit later, as you were changing out of your apron in the back room and counting your bills, you wondered where Eddie was and what he was doing.

It made you curse out loud, the persistent way your mind clung to him.

It was irrational and wholly unfair.  

You wanted him to pull up in the GTO and tell you to get in without any explanation of why or where you were going. 

The customers continued to wane, and Bob told you to skedaddle 20 minutes earlier than you’d expected, so you figured you’d get a head start and meet Steve half way. Erica flipped you off, playfully mocking the fact that you could go home before her.  You snuggled down into your winter coat and pushed through the employee door that led to the parking lot at the greeting of a gust of bitingly cold wind.  You stopped to pull your gloves out of your pockets and the door that could only be opened from the inside locked shut behind you.  

When you looked up, Jareth stepped out of the shadows and loomed there, blocking your path.  

“I’m afraid you'll have to come with me, love.”  

----

hugs and kisses, thank you so much for reading! Your comments, asks, and reblogs mean the world xoxo

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Taglist: @trixyvixx @sllooney @writinginthetwilight @sidthedollface2 @atomickaratel8dy @probablyin-bed @kiyastrf94@briamunson92 @joannamuns9n @jasminelafleur @@bellalillyrose @dashingdeb16 @alba8688 @corrodeddeadlydoll @brassreign @likedovesinthewnd @ilovetaquitosmmm @skrzydlak @onegirlmanytales @angietherose @probablyin-bed @reidsbtch @moonbeamsandmayhem @eddiesxangel @hideoutside @secretdryrose @nailbatanddungeon @thorfemmes @corkadymu @kellsck @mrsjellymunson @poofyloofy

#Eddie Munson fic #Eddie Munson #vampire!eddie #werewolf Steve #Death Becomes Us #vampire Eddie Munson #True Blood au #Eddie Munson series #paranormal reader #Eddie Munson x reader #Spotify

[wh0re43van]

Just friends- (Peter Maximoff X Reader)

Summary: While staying with the Maximoff family, you admit your feelings to your best friend, and he doesn’t seem to feel the same until you inform him that you’re going on a date with another guy

Word count: 4K

Warnings: angst, sad Peter, a brief mention of Unsolicited groping

I’m so thankful for the Maximoffs. They’re allowing to stay with them for a couple months after getting kicked out of my parents’ home. I’m rooming with my best friend of four years, and I’ve never been happier. As soon as he heard about my situation, he welcomed me into his home- into his bedroom- with open arms.

“Honey, I’m home,” The goofball announces as he walks into our temporally shared room holding two pizzas, a 2 liter of dr. pepper, a bag of breadsticks with all the fixings, and a rented copy of The Exorcist.

“Wow, what’s the occasion?” I giggle, sitting up in our his bed, setting down the book I had been reading.

With a fwp, he’s turned down the lights, popped the movie in and arranged the food at the foot of the bed before sitting beside me, now in his pajamas.

“It’s a party!” he gives me a cheesy grin, popping open the pizza box and pulling out two slices, handing one to me.

“Oh god, Peter are we really so lame that this is what we consider a party?” I laugh before taking a bite of the greasy pizza, still hot since Peter was able to get it here in less than three seconds.

“This is the best kind of party! Hanging with your best friend, piggin’ out on junk food, and watching a bitchin’ horror movie? What else could a dude ask for?” He says as he stuffs his face, licking his greasy fingers. I cant help but laugh at the man child sitting beside me, even though it hurts my heart a bit knowing that he only considers me his friend. Don’t get me wrong, I’m more than grateful for Peter (and his mother) being in my life, but I just always hoped for more. It’s been four years and nothing’s escalated despite my many attempts, so I guess it’s time to accept that. I mean, we’re out of high school now, were adults. If he hasn’t shown interest by now then I guess it’s a lost cause. “Besides,” he smacks his lips, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. “The main thing that makes this a party is the fact that you’re here,” he gives a goofy wink, making my cheeks tint pink- but he doesn’t seem to notice.

“How flattering,” I nudge him playfully before opening the 2 liter, taking a sip out of the bottle then handing it to Peter. He mimics my action, then lets out a loud belch.

‘how in the hell does this man have me absolutely smitten over him,’ think to myself as he shoves an entire breadstick into his mouth.

“Whatever,” he chuckles looking away for a second.

“God damn Peter,” my eyes go wide when I see that he’s already eaten half a large pizza.

“What?” he asks as he holds his head up, his arm extended as he lets the cheese slide off the crust into his mouth. “Gotta fuel my metabolism, these rock hard abs don’t just appear overnight,” he snickers before lifting up his shirt, revealing his toned stomach, then takes another gulp out of the soda bottle.

“I guess your body does look pretty good for someone whose diet is 50% carbs and 50% sugar,” I tease, thanking whatever deity it is above us that the lights are too dim for him to see the blush rushing over my face as I stare at his bare stomach.

“You’d think the chicks would be all over this,” he wiggles his eyebrows before deepthroating another breadstick. “They wouldn’t know charm if it bit ‘em in the ass,” he mumbles through a mouth full of bread as marinara sauce drips down his face. “I mean come on, how do I not get girls?” He snickers as he wipes his grubby hands on his pants. I roll my eyes at the messy boy.

“Peter, I know you very well,” I reach for my second slice of pizza. “The reason you don’t get girls is because you can never tell when they’re flirting with you,” I tease, but meaning every word. He’s the dullest guy ever when it comes to picking up on social cues.

“I know,” he chuckles as he turns to look at me. “Real shame too. Sometimes I realize it after they’ve already walked away. Sucks cause I probably coulda’ lost my V-card by now if I understood the first thing about gals. I really can’t pick up on flirting” he says matter-o-factly as he takes a sip of soda.

“Oh, I know all too well, Peter,” I laugh out, my eyes focused on the tv screen. He gives a soft, almost confused laugh, then he’s silent for a minute before speaking up.

“Wait a minute,” he sits up straight in the bed. “Are you implying that even you’ve flirted with me?” he asks with wide eyes full of skepticism. I take a deep breath, sitting up to be eye level with him.

“Peter,” I start, he’s staring intently at me with his brows threaded in confusion. “The only reason I talked to you for the first time was because I thought you were cute,” I laugh out. How can he be so dense?! He stares at me in bewilderment in silence. I can see the gears turning in his head as he thinks back to our first encounter all those years ago.

“Oh my god!” he comes to the realization. “You were flirting with me that summer day in the arcade?” he asks still shocked. It makes my heart happy that he remembers the first time we met. “How did I not realize. God I’m stupid,” he slaps his palm to his forehead.

“Only took ya four years, Quickie,” I tease before taking a sip of Dr. Pepper. “Wasn’t the very first thing that I ever said to you: ‘You’re really good at that, handsome’?” I say and he repeats the quote with me, smiling and nodding. He remembers it word for word. “Come on man, how did you not know?” I chuckle. His eyes are still full of disbelief.

“I was really focused on the game!” his face turns red as he has another epiphany: “That probably wasn’t the only time, was it?” he asks, rubbing his hand on the back of neck, letting out a small laugh.

“God no,” I chuckle, a bit embarrassed but enjoying reminiscing on our friendship none the less. “Remember, two weeks after that, I invited you out to go roller skating?” I ask.

“Yeah of course, you were wearing that limited edition ‘Eagles’ shirt that you still to this day won’t let me touch,” he laughs. I thought that having this conversation would help me get over him, but hearing how well he remembers all our fondest memories together makes me swoon.

“Well, when I asked you, I meant it as a date,” I admit, watching his face once again fill with bewilderment. “But the whole time you were calling me dude and roughhousing me, I just assumed you either didn’t like me that way or you were to dumb to realize it was a date. Lucky for you, I had a lot of fun and chose to ignore it,” I nudge him playfully. He face palms himself again.

“Y/n, I had no idea. I never in a million years thought a girl as rad as you would be interested in me in that way, so the idea of a date never even crossed my mind,” he flops back on the bed, processing all of this new information. “Wait do you still flirt with me? How oblivious have I been? Oh my god am I still missing stuff?” he shoots back up in the bed once again..

“Peter,” I say flatly. “Just last week I changed right Infront of you. I literally stripped into just my bra and panties right next to the tv when you were playing Space Invaders,” I can’t believe this guy. He blushes thinking back to that moment.

“I thought we were just really comfortable with each other! We change infront of each other all the time,” he chuckles nervously. “I still tried not to look out of respect, but I’d be lying if I say I didn’t sneak a glance or two though,” he admits but looks away, avoiding eye contact.

“It’s alright Peter,” I sigh as I close up the pizza box before laying back to watch the movie. “Once a girl comes along that you’re actually interested in, I’m sure you’ll pick up on her signals,” I say not looking at him, accepting my defeat. He’s quiet for a moment.

“Well, how do I know?” he asks genuinely. I look at him, raising my eyebrow, waiting for him to elaborate. “Like, obviously I know a hot chick when I see one, but how do I know when I’m actually interested. I’m clueless y/n,” he lets out a light laugh after the last part, seeming a bit embarrassed as he intently awaits my answer.

“Well,” I prop myself up on my arm to look at him. “I guess it would have to be more than physical attraction. If you’re genuinely interested, then you’ll want more than her body, but also want more than just her friendship. You’ll want to talk to her, to just be in her presence. You’ll care about what she thinks about you. Stuff like that,” I shrug, not sure how to explain what attraction feels like to someone who claims to have never felt it before. He nods silently, absorbing my words. The fact that he hasn’t laughed in my face yet for admitting to liking him is giving me false hope that he could possibly feel the same way. I need this conversation to end soon.

“So it would have to be someone I can see a future with? Someone that I want to impress? Someone that I genuinely care about? But also someone who’s super smokin’?” he asks, wanting a genuine answer. I smile downwardly.

“You’re getting it now,” I sigh. “I’ll be jealous of whatever girl wins your heart over,” I laugh, holding my breath in anticipation for how he’s going to respond to that, preparing to have my hopes crushed so I can move on.

“Oh don’t worry,” he smirks. Here we go. “I’ll make room for the both of you,” he winks. And there it is. My stomach drops, but it’s out now. Now I know that he’s not interested, I know for sure that I’m going on this date tonight. Part of me hoped that Peter would admit his feelings and I could cancel this stupid date, but I have to get out there. “Oh! No, y/n I didn’t mean-” Peters smile drops, and he reaches for my arm.

“No, I get it. It’s cool, man,” I force a smile, standing from his bed, checking my wristwatch. “I gotta get ready for my date anyway. I didn’t even realize what time it was,” I say honestly as I walk over to my suitcase.

“Woah, what?” he zooms in front of me, blocking my bag. “Date?” he asks, a bit of panic in his voice. I scoff, pushing him to the side.

“Yeah, I went to the arcade yesterday while you were out with your mom, now I have a date,” I smile weakly as I strip, then slip into my dress before I walk over to my mirror that I hung on his wall to fix my makeup.

“No- y/n- i- that’s- who… whos your date with?” his words fall out a stumbled mess as if he can’t sort his thoughts from one another.

“Steve. Ya know, the one from the arcade that’s always trying to beat your high scores,” I explain as I brush my hair.

“Steve!?” He shouts in disbelief. “That asshole? Y/n come on, man!,” he almost sounds angry.

“Yeah?” I shrug as I apply some lip gloss. I see Peter pacing behind me in the reflection of the mirror.

“Steve? Really?” he throws his hands up.

“He’s cute. Plus, you know I have a thing for nerds,” I remind him. His face turns red. Why is he acting like this? He just crushed my dream of being with him and now he wants to act jealous?

“Cute?! You mean you’re not just going to be nice?” He sounds so shocked and almost hurt. I turn around to face him.

“I- of course Peter why would I-,” I’m completely flustered. “No.” I say sternly. “No Peter. You don’t get to do this. You had four years man, and just 15 minutes ago I admitted my feelings for you and you said that you didn’t feel the same,” I’m getting frustrated with him, I can feel my blood pressure raising out of anger and embarrassment.

“But that’s not- I didn’t- no you misunderstood!” he starts to raise his voice, laced with panic. “What if I do have feelings for you?” he asks with pleading eyes.

“Do not do this. Peter please don’t do this to me! You can’t suddenly have feelings for me just because I have a date with you nerd enemy!” I shout as my ears burn red with anger. “Don’t be immature,” I poke my finger to his chest, completely irate. He looks like his mind is running a thousand miles a minute. It takes him a couple seconds to rebuttal.

“No! I never said I don’t have feelings! Y/n I didn’t say that!” he shouts, but his voice isn’t angry, it’s worried as he places a hand on my heated cheek.

“No Peter,” I say calmly even though I’m beyond frustrated as I pull away from his touch. “You’re really hurting me right now. You’re the last guy I ever expected to fuck with my emotions like this,” tears well up in my eyes. I can’t believe what he’s doing. My ego was already bruised when he didn’t respond to my confession and now he’s trying to keep me from a date just because the dude plays video games just as well as him. Peter stares at me, his hand still outstretched in the air where he tried to console me. He doesn’t say anything.

Honk! Honk!

Steves car horn sounds from outside the Maximoff home, beckoning me.

“Please don’t go,” his voice is feeble. “Please just give me some time to think. Just five minutes to figure this out,” he pleads with desperate eyes. I almost give in, but I stay strong.

“Peter, there’s a guy outside this house that already has his feelings sorted. You stay here and figure it out. I’m leaving,” I seethe as I stare at his confused and hurt expression, almost making me apologize, but I’m too hurt and embarrassed. He doesn’t say anything, he just grips his fists so tight that his knuckles turn white, his jaw clenches, and I see that he’s holding back tears. I immediately turn to run up the steps because if I look at him for one more second, I would be holding him in my arms, telling him I’m sorry and letting him cry it out. Not today.

•

•

After Steve picked me up, we went to dinner, then to the drive-in theatre. I’m having… a decent time. He’s a little boring compared to Peter, no one can make me laugh like he can. I’m also a bit distracted at how I left my best friend. I think I may have been too hard on him. Now that I’ve calmed down, I think he really was just trying to sort things out. I know that Peter isn’t the most emotionally mature and definitely doesn’t have a way with words.

‘oh god, what have I done?’ I think to myself in horror.

“What do you say, huh?” Steves deep voice shakes me out of my thoughts.

“I’m sorry,” I smile sweetly. “What was that?” I bat my lashes at him, hoping he doesn’t notice that I’ve been thinking about another guy the whole time he’s been speaking to me.

“I said: Why don’t we move to back?” he smirks motioning towards his back seat.

“Uh,” I know exactly what he’s alluding to. Do I really want to go down that road? “Yeah, okay,” I smile. I guess I do. We get out of the vehicle and hop into the back. He immediately pulls me into his lap. I’m a bit taken back by his sudden grip on my body.

“You ever been touched by a real man?” he asks as he peppers kisses all over my neck as his cold hands slip under my dress without even asking. I’m shocked, disgusted, and confused.

“I-uh- can you stop please?” I pull arm out of his grip and crawl out of his lap.

“Hey, I paid for your food and your ticket. You owe me!” he shouts, grabbing my arm again. I have so much pent up rage from earlier, I didn’t even realize it when my hand shot out to slap him across the face full force. He looked at me stunned before getting out of his car, opening the door and literally throwing me out. He picks me up by shoulders and tosses me onto the dusty, bare, dirt. He drives away without a single word.

“What the fuck,” I mutter to myself as I stand up, brushing the dirt off myself. A young man from the next car over rushes to the scene, asking if I’m okay. I simply thank him for his concern, then take the walk of shame back to Peters house.

Now I remember why I waited for Peter for so long; He’s the only decent guy I’ve ever met. As if the silent, cold, horrifying walk back to the Maximoff house at midnight wasn’t punishment enough, once I arrive and enter his bedroom, the sight I see makes my heart break completely in two. I feel physical pain when I see Peter.

His room is dark as he’s laid on his couch, curled up In a blanket, staring at the starter screen on his Tank video game on the box Television. The flashing light reflects on his blank face, allowing me to see his bloodshot eyes, red nose, and puffy lips from crying. He hasn’t seemed to notice me enter the room. My own eyes immediately fill up with the tears I was trying so hard to hold back.

“Peter,” I let out a somber whisper. He jumps up, looking at me with wide, puffy eyes.

“Are you crying?” he zooms up to me, grabbing my arm. “Did he hurt you?” he asks, putting a hand on my cheek. How can he still care about my feelings after how I left things?

“I’m okay Peter,” I lean into his touch. “I should have listened to you, though. You were right about him,” my tear stained eyes meet his. His face flushes in anger.

“What did he do to you? Is he still here? I swear I’ll kill the guy!” He raises his voice with every sentence, balling his hands into fists.

“It’s- I, uhm, would rather not talk about it,” I look down avoiding his gaze.

“Y/n, did he hurt you, yes or no? That’s all I need to know,” He gently lifts my chin to meet his gaze again but I close my eyes. I can’t look at him with out the guilt from making him cry making me feel sick.

“…Yes,” I Whisper, not wanting to elaborate. With a fwp Peter’s gone. I hear the front door open, I rush out to the sidewalk.

“Where the fuck is he?” Peter screams in a tone that I rarely hear from him. He turns to look at me, his once sad expression now pure unfiltered anger: A look I’ve never seen on him before. I’m almost scared.

“He’s not here Peter, I had to walk home from the drive in,” I sigh. Peter looks at me as if he doesn’t believe what I’m saying. He kicks the neighbor’s trash can in anger. With a loud clang, the metal bin is sent flying down the street, his foot mark now permanently indented in the can.

‘Steve’s lucky he isn’t here right now. Jesus Christ’ I think to myself.

“Let’s just go inside, please. I need to talk to you,” I say softly as I grab his tensed arm. He looks at me, his expression softening before he allows me to lead him inside.

I bring him in and sit him down on the couch, it’s silent for a few beats, neither one of us want to look at the other one.

“I’m sorry,” we both blurt out at the same time, snapping our heads to look at each other. The awkwardness subsides as we smile at each other. We both try to start our apology at the same time, then erupt into giggles.

“Let me go first,” I put a light hand on Peters knee. He shakes his head ‘no’.

“No. I’m going first. I finally got everything sorted out,” he takes a deep breath. “Y/n, I do have feelings for you and I’m sorry. I’m just a stupid boy that never learned how to process emotions. You’re amazing! You’re my best friend and I feel so horrible that I hurt you. When you were explaining what it felt like to be attracted to someone, you just explained word for word how I feel about you. I was just confused, everything happened so fast, and I honestly thought you were joking with me at first. I’ve always kind of had the hots for you, but I never in a million years thought that you could ever be attracted to me, so I locked those thoughts away. I’m sorry that I couldn’t express this sooner. I’m so so sorry,” he says in a rush of words, I almost have trouble keeping up with the words coming out of his mouth. His big brown puppy eyes scan my face for my reaction. I just smile at him, tears once again swelling in my eyes for about the third time tonight.

“Peter, you’re such a sweet guy,” I grin and his face beams with joy. “I was such an asshole to you earlier… I’m sorry. My ego and my heart were hurt and I should not have taken that out on you. The way that you still cared about me when I got back from that awful date even though I had upset you right before I left just shows how amazing of a person you are. You are the best thing in my life,” a tear rolls down my cheek, Peter quickly wipes it away.

“Hey, come here,” he says softly before pulling me into his chest. As he pulls me into his strong arms, the scent of his cologne and the warmth of his body makes me forget about every problem I’ve ever had. The steady rise and fall of his chest and his fingers running though my hair could put me to sleep in an instant. “I don’t blame you for anything. That situion just unfolded really poorly and we both said some things we shouldn’t have, but that’s over now,” he kisses my forehead as I snuggle further into him.

“Thank you, Peter,” I yawn as I wrap my arms around his torso. He continues brushing his fingers through my hair and tracing mindless designs on my back, I feel myself drifting off to sleep, all the stress I had been feeling now completely subsided. I lay in his arms, wrapped in comfort as if he’s a warm towel straight out of the dryer. I hear him whisper,

“Goodnight, beautiful,” as he clicks off the tv with the remote. A small smile creeps onto my lips as I slip off to sleep.

#evan peters #evan peters smut #ahs cult #ahs hotel #jimmy darling smut #kai anderson #kit walker smut #ahs asylum #ahs fandom #ahs murder house #evan peters x reader #peter maximoff smut #peter maximoff #warren lipka smut #warren lipka #tate langdon smut #tate langdon

[ellieverkuasidees]

Food For Thought!

T141 x Southern!reader

+ Simon "Ghost" Riley x Southern!reader

Tags: fem!reader! plantonic with the rest of the crew but you and Simon have a little something something yk?, canon typcial crusing, fluff, the boys just being silly, american and british bickering

a/n: so remember that little brain fart I had? so this is what happens when your bored with nothing to do <<33 I know that this won't do many southerns justice, we're all different from different cities to towns but I just wanted to share this with yall :)) also please tell me where yall from! I really want to know! Enjoy!

"What the hell is this (reader).." Price mumbled under his breath. He cranked his neck back as he looked at you with disgust. You rolled your eyes as you set the plate of fried chicken, string beans, and a nice, thick, creamy and chewy mac-n-cheese. "Okay, I'll go get the sweet tea. Do not and I mean do not touch anything!" You warned, leaving the dineing room to the kitchen. Soap came in as Ghost followed. "Aye. The hell is that?" Soap asked, sniffing the air to the unfamillar smell.

Price hunched his shoulder, and turned to the kitchen as you digged into the fridge trying to find the homemade sweet tea you made this morning. "I don't know, she made this mess. It looks greasy." He huffed. "I heard that! You haven't taste it yet!" You came back with a huge jug of sweet tea, the men looking at you with bewilderment. Gaz, running late had came into the dining room, his cheeky smile fading once the scent of southern food hit his nose.

"What's that?" He looked over to the abunces of food. He smiled as he turned to you and helped you with the jug of tea. "Thank you Gaz, anyways. I know you brits-"

"I'm not British." Soap shouted with offense. You all looked at him and then turning the attention back to you. "Anyways! This here? This here is the shit. Your taste buds will never feel the same after you eat these homemade classics of the south!" You squeaked. The men looked over at thefoood, the grease and butter glowing in the light. The men sruvnhed their noses as they groaned in disgusted.

Your feelings where slightly hurt, but as a proud (southern state) native, you must bring them the food from the home of the free. Eitehr way, any food you cook could explode their brains. "Think we should try it L.T?" Soap asked looking up at him. Simon had a bit of a soft spot for you. He loved your american accent, the way you had some much pride and respectful for yourself. He thought it was attractive. Might I say sexy? He was head over heels fpr you and wanted you to like him as much as possible. And if that means to eat your seemingly gross and fatty american food, then so be it.

"Wouldn't hurt to try." He simply said. "Really? Don't wanna be fat like them americans!" Soap joked. You reached over and punched his shoulder as he laughed. "Oh please! Half the people in this country needs a nice oral cleansing..”

Soap rolled his eyes and ignored your jab at him and moved on. “I think we should try it. Don’t seem so bad.” Ghost mumbled as he sat down next to you, his arm resting on your chair. “Really?” Gaz sighed.

“Yeah. Don’t seem so bad. Just Mac-n-Cheese.” He huffed at Gaz with a slight scorn to his tone. “Whateva you say I guess..” Soap sighed as he sat himself down at the food. “I want to try the tea first.” Simon said as he pointed to the tea jug. “Sure!” You stood up and pour each and everyone of you a cup of homemade natural born tea.

“Alright! Drink up!” You cheered. Price, oddity sniffed it and pushed the drink away. “No.” Ghost lifted his mask up, and took a sip before hacking and lammend the glass on the table. “AUGH! AUHN! WHAT THE FUCK?!” He screamed as you laughed at his intolerance to the sweetness of the tea.

Gaz just smacked his lips and pushed the cup away from him as well. “Too sweet, urgh!” He groaned as he smacked his lips and slapped his tongue to the roof of his mouth. Meanwhile Soap was still taking sip after sip of his drink, almost gone at this point. “Seems like you liked it Soap!” You giggled.

“I just like sweet stuff alright?” He chuffed as he sucked the life out of the cup. “I win!” Soap scoffed as he snatched Price’s cup of tea from him. Price didn’t seem to mind anyways. “You’re not gonna try Cap’?” He shook his head no, “I need to watch my blood sugar nowadays.” You chuckled at his words. Such an old man thing to say. Or someone who has diabetes. Either way it’s kinda funny. Not really.

“Okay try the Mac-n-Cheese now!!”

(Should I add onto this?)

#cod modern warfare #cod mw2 #cod x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #southern!reader #ghost cod #john price #john soap mactavish #john price x reader #john price x you #soap call of duty #soap cod #soap x reader #soap mw2 #kyle gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick #kyle gaz garrick x reader

[champagnedrunkandhorny]

Daemon Targaryen x Reader x Rhaenyra Targaryen

"Her lips, her skin, her nose, her eyes, her legs around my head, that is what I want, Syrax" said Rhaenyra to her loyal she-dragon, "and I´m going to get it."

Her half-sister wasn´t like any Hightower spawns. as Daemon would call them. She was determained, soft when anyone was looking, but behind her mask, she was coniving little minsk. Not even a few days ago, Daemon caught a Gold cloak climbing down from her window. After that, the princess was moved to the highest tower in the Red Keep, how ironic. If the green queen thought that would stop the shenigens, well she thought wrong. The little minsk was twrilling around. Her silk skirt moving in circles as she glides with the who-counts-anymore lord. Everyone in the ballroom tried not to stare at the little Targeryen. But her impish eyes moved only to Rhaenyra, enjoying the heiress´ full attention, and to her current partner, keeping him on his toes. "You look ravishing, when you are jealous, wife." Daemon chuckles behind his glass. Rhaenyra rolled her eyes and angled her body away from the little minsk. "Shouldn´t you be also jealous, husband." Daemon shakes his head "Oh, I am rather intrigued by your cat and mouse game." Don´t be fooled, Daemon is the Rogue prince and will cut down any idiot that tries to even look at his wife. But seeing Rhaenyra so preoccupied with his other niece, seemed to only stirr his cock, and sometimes, almost always, he allowed the small man to lead him.

As they were talking, the princess was getting slowly more annoyed. The once intresting Lord of who-knows-what couldn´t get his greasy gaze away from her, she can´t think of any more conversation´s topics and this spiel is only so long intresting as she gets to play it with Rhaenyra. She scrowls as she watches Daemon, she doesn´t call him uncle, take the heiress´attention away from her. "Lord, would you be so kind to acompany me to my table. I am parched." She doesn´t even have to look his way. Already knowing, that his mouth will water at even getting 2 feet away from the royal family. She suddely signals him to wrap his arm around her ellbow.

She could practically feel their gazes on her. Oh, what a coincidence, that her chair is right there, where they could see the young couple. "Let´s see what will the dragon do, when you pull it´s tail." the minsk thought as she angles her chest to the lord and puffs out her chest, widdening her eyes a little bit and pouting out her lips.

Rhaenyra and Daemon stopped what they were doing and watched as the princess grips the man´s biceps and whispers something. He looked as if his brain stopped working. His eyes were focused on her breasts. Rhaenyra gripped the glass under her fingers.

What none of them expected was to watch as the lord grips the lower back of the young princess, traps her in his arms and moved his wine-painted small lips her way.

That´s where the chaos started.

Daemon, that was already on the edge of his seat, sprang up. Sure, he doesn´t like Hightowers, but he is not going to watch a small, unimportant, non-Valaryen decent defily his family member in front of him.

Before he could get to him, the previously mentioned Princess, swingged her arm and smacked him across the face. Not only the smack was heard, but also the breaking of the glass Rhaenyra was holding.

The lord that was strucked, didn´t even have time to come to his senses as the Rogue prince grabbed him along with some Golden cloacks and dragged him away from the scene.

Luckely, Rhaenyra caused enough comotion for the ball attendees, that they didn´t see the other scene. Half of them were drunk or too far away to witness it going down.

The servents quickly jumped to clean away the mess. In that moment, the younger princess seemed to come to her senses. She looked around. Luckely, her mother and brothers were already in their chambers. If her mother or grandfather had witnessed that, she would be already on her ship to the Oldtown or whatever hellhole they found for her.

"Princess, you don´t seem well. Why don´t I guide you to your chambers?" A silver voice made it´s way into her ear. The girl looked up to meet her violet eyes with her older sisters.

here is the full work if you wanna read the smutty part

#daemon x reader x rhaenyra #rhaenyra x reader #hotd x reader #daemon x rhaenyra #daemon x reader #rhaenyra targaryen #daemon x y/n #house of the dragon #daemon targeryen x reader #yandere hotd #daemon targaryen smut #hotd imagine #hotd fanfic

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

Steddie Upside-Down AU Part 10

Part 1 Part 9

Steve wakes up cuddling Eddie Munson’s calves to his chest. It barely registers over the sharp stab of pain that had jolted him awake. At some point in his sleep, he’d rolled onto his injured side, and his own weight pressing down into it makes him groan.

He rolls onto his back, letting go of his hold on Eddie’s calves. His other arm is pinned beneath his legs, already full of pins and needles, so he yanks it free. Eddie sits up, smacking his face into one of Steve’s hanging coats.

“What’s it?” he asks, nonsensically, batting the shirt out of his face.

Steve follows his lead, sitting up opposite him. Their knees knock together. Steve doesn’t pull his away.

Eddie’s hair is plastered to the side of his face on one side, lopsided and greasy, and yet his curls are still flyaway, wilder than Steve has ever seen them. His eyes are closed as he swipes his bangs out of his eyes.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” Steve says.

Eddie’s eyes slit open, scowl already in place as he looks around, disoriented. Steve can see the exact moment the other boy remembers where they are. His eyes widen before he closes them, pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head.

“I was hoping this whole thing was a dream,” he says, voice raspy. “No offense.”

Steve laughs. “Why would I be offended, dude?”

Eddie mutters under his breath. Steve doesn’t ask. If he’s over there talking shit, he’d frankly rather not know.

Eddie finally opens his eyes again. “What now?”

Steve looks at the closed closet door. His minds ticking away, but not going anywhere. “There’s no food,” he says, thinking aloud. “We’ve got water. We can’t kill that thing—”

“—can’t get out of here—”

“—so there’s not much to do, is there?”

He feels young and small, the way he always does when he’s hiding in his closet, knows he’s looking up at Eddie, eyes begging him to contradict what he’s saying. Eddie doesn’t.

His gaze looks just as hollowed out as Steve feels, eyes looking through Steve and into a world they’re no longer a part of. “We should stay here,” he says. “If someone comes looking, they’ll know to check here.”

Left unspoken is that no one is looking.

They crawl out of the closet together. Steve hits his face on that same varsity jacket that had meant so much to him only days before. Now, he’d sell it to the highest bidder for a bag of chips.

Eddie’s standing awkwardly in his bedroom, looking around at all the nothing on the walls, the nothing on the desk. The shell of Steve’s life. He thinks of the mugs and hats hanging in the Munson trailer, the signs of life visible in the dishes in the sink and the blanket folded at the bottom of the couch and aches.

“Can we go to your place instead?” He says it before he makes the decision to open his mouth.

Eddie snaps his gaze away from the blank walls, eyes meeting Steve’s own. “Why?”

Steve looks around at all the nothing again, feels his mouth twisting into a frown, feels his fingernails digging into his palms. “It’s cozier.” He doesn’t look back at Eddie, can’t make himself look away from the picture of the car on his wall. Steve doesn’t even like cars.

“Okay,” Eddie says, quiet. There’s an upward tick of a question at the end of the word that Steve chooses to ignore.

It’s an easy journey. They hear no sounds of pursuit, see no twisted monsters. But his lungs ache with panic until Eddie’s shut the front door of his trailer. Steve never realized they lived so close to one another.

It’s almost funny, when you think about the disparate sounds the shutting of their front door’s make. Steve’s close with a wooden thunk, and the quiet click of the metal bolt hitting home. Eddie’s sounds hollow – like styrofoam. It would be funny if it didn’t make his stomach squirm.

Like a repeat of the standoff in Steve’s own bedroom, they stand awkwardly in the Munson’s living room, the silence stilted. Eddie jiggles his feet, looking around the trailer with the same furrowed brow Steve’d had while eying his own empty bedroom.

Steve doesn’t get it. You can almost feel the people that live here by just stepping inside. It’s so full. What more could you need?

“Wanna get high?” Eddie asks, hands flapping at his sides like he can’t help moving.

“…you trust the drugs you find in this nightmare world?” Steve asks, trying to keep the judgment from his tone, sure he’s not successful.

Eddie smiles so wide his teeth show. He swings the backpack of his shoulders in one fluid motion before dropping it onto the couch and riffling through it. He holds up a metal lunchbox like it’s a prize. His face sags when he opens it.

Steve doesn’t know much about weed, but the jaunty angle both the joints Eddie pulls out don’t look quite right. Eddie straightens them futiley with his fingers before bringing them both up to his nose, sliding them both above his mouth with a showy sniff. His nose wrinkles.

“A little water-logged, but they should be okay, right?” He looks up imploringly at Steve. He shrugs. Eddie looks back down at the joints, lips in a pout. “Is chlorine poisonous?”

“Hasn’t killed me yet.”

Eddie laughs, waving Steve to follow him. “You’re not supposed to drink it, Harrington.”

“It just happens sometimes!” Steve says, following closely behind. “You gotta time your breathing right, or you get a mouthful.”

“And then you swallow it?”

“Fuck off, dude.”

Eddie’s bedroom is a marvel. There are so many posters pinned to the wall, he can barely see the color behind it. There are little trinkets everywhere – guitar picks, rings, little plastic guys that remind him of army men, paint supplies, books, cassettes. There are clothes hanging off his desk chair, guitars mounted on the wall, blankets and sheets balled onto the bed in what looks like a very comfortable nest. There are so many things Steve doesn’t even recognize enough to put a name to.

He walks up to the wall, analyzing what look like band posters. They’re predominantly red and black, angry and vibrant. Steve wants to know what that anger sounds like when plaid on the tape deck he sees on Eddie’s desk. He moves around the room, bringing his fingers up to touch the writing on the guitar – THIS MACHINE SLAYS DRAGONS – before thinking better of it and dropping his hand.

It's while he’s bent down, eyeing the little painted dragon on Eddie’s desk that he realizes the other boy has gone alarmingly quiet. When he turns, Eddie is fidgeting with the rings on his fingers, feet shuffling, biting his lip. Steve raises a brow.

“Sorry it’s so messy!” Eddie says, but he blurts it out so fast, it comes out more like, sorryit’ssomessy.

“It’s nice,” Steve says, surprised by how much he means it. “Looks like someone actually lives here.”

Eddie’s cheeks turn pink as he lifts up the ends of his hair to hide the smile Steve can see peeking through like the weirdo he is. He drops the hair to gesture grandly at his messy bed as if it was a limo. Or a chariot. “Well, sit down, my liege.”

Steve does, back against the wall where the headboard would be. Eddie settles down beside him, knees overlapping with the way they’re sitting crisscross.

Eddie holds up one of the joints, licking the edge almost on instinct before grimacing. Steve’s watching his tongue move along the paper, feels something in his gut tense before he looks away.

The first lighter he tries is just as waterlogged as the joints, not even making a spark. Eddie’s cursing up a storm as he leans across Steve to fumble for the lighter propped up on his desk. That one works.

Steve’s been to enough parties to be unsurprised by the skunky musk that quickly fills the room. He’s avoided smoking at all of those parties, though, so the way the smoke fills his lungs leaves him coughing until his throat burns. Eddie slaps his back, hard until he stops choking. It doesn’t help. Steve doesn’t ask him to stop.

“First time?” Eddie asks, clearly teasing. Steve averts his eyes. “Oh, no shit?”

“I play sports, man,” Steve says, reading the titles of the cassettes stacked up on Eddie’s desk to avoid seeing the look on the guy’s face. “Never really seemed worth the lung problems.”

Eddie nudges Steve’s knee with his own. It splays out on top of his and then stays there. “And now?”

He doesn’t want to say it, but it comes spilling out. “You really think we’re going to live long enough to develop lung problems?”

Eddie doesn’t reply, but the weight of his leg grows heavier. Steve revels in the warmth he can feel from his skin, even with the two layers of jeans separating them. It’s so cold here.

“Well,” Eddie starts, and Steve can hear the grin in his voice, so he turns back. His eyes are manic, smile shit-eating and wide. “This is one cherry of yours I don't mind popping."

This time, Steve chokes for a very different reason. He's not sure he minds.

Part 11

#steddie upsidedown au #steddie fic #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #my fic

[aaizawashouta]

Devil in Disguise

pairing: frat!naruto x fem!reader

word count: 3.9k

summary: why hide your demons when all naruto wants to do is play with them? (Modern au)

warnings: smut (18+ minors dni) fingering, slight overstimulation, oral (f receiving), p in v, cream pie a fight, slight mention of blood

a/n: happy halloween! This is ALL I’ve been able to think about.

Fraternities are the worst. It’s loud. There’s too many people, and you’re burning up in the white turtleneck bodysuit that Ino and Sakura bullied you into. This party had not been on your list of activities for the day. You went to work, being miserable on your feet for ten hours only to come home smelling like greasy food and french fries to find your roommates ready for an attack. All you wanted to do was sit on the couch in your pajamas watching some stupid ghost hunting show while handing out candy.

But when do you ever get what you want?

Sighing in irritation, you adjust the white wings that rest against your back. The headband holding up the halo above your head was digging into the space behind your ears. You only stop fidgeting with it when Sakura shoots daggers at you. Smoothing down the white sweater, you try your best to get comfortable. But it’s hard when you can’t breathe. The air is thick and hazy despite the back doors being open. The sound of laughter and yelling can be heard over the blaring music. Whoever they put as dj needs to be fired.

“Come on, slowpoke.” Ino threw over her shoulder.

You glare at her back, following the two through the crowd. A sharp glare slicing through the idiot dressed in a toga when he bumps into you. Fuck, parties suck. Sakura forges a path that leads straight to the living room. All the furniture is cleared out except where they’re playing beer pong. You bite back a groan when Kiba spots you. Even from a few feet away you can see his eyes light up.

You raise a hand before he can say anything. “I need a drink.”

He bears his teeth in a sharp grin. “Kitchen is that way, babe.”

“How chivalrous of you,” you mumble.

Of fucking course you’d have to make your way through a crowd of people to get to the kitchen. Heat runs up your neck as irritation settles over you. There’s no subtlety—you’re plowing elbows and knocking drinks out of people’s hands. There’s a multitude of names being tossed at your back, not that you care. An hour, that’s it. One game of pong to appease Kiba and you’re out of here. You came, you saw, you conquered your roommates. Halloween over.

Nothing is ever simple.

The kitchen is almost empty. Gaara and Kankuro stand next to the refreshments. You smile, knowing that they’re on guard. That’s something you actually like about this particular fraternity. They may all be dumb meatheads, but they set clear boundaries. It stems from their president, Naruto, you know. He’s a good guy, can rival the energizer bunny and is pure, honest sunshine. You can see him standing just behind the two brothers. Blue eyes taking in the party around him.

You don’t see him until he’s already on you. Empty solo cup in hand, you turn to run into a firm chest. Your brows furrow, a scowl taking up your face as you peer up that guy blocking you from everyone else. His eyes are glazed, glassy and bloodshot. He’s wearing an easy smile, but you don’t miss the bite to it. He thinks he’s a predator, and he thinks you’re an easy prey. Yeah, fucking right.

“Can I help you?”

“What drink you looking for?”

Your gaze narrows. “Don’t worry about it. I got it.”

“C’mon, sugar. Don’t be like that. L’me get you a drink.” He runs a finger down the side of your face before you’re smacking it away.

“Don’t fucking touch me.”

He takes two steps forward, crowding you into the corner. Your eyes flash around him, briefly. Gaara and Kankuro are watching you closely. They know better than to interfere, you know how to handle yourself around drunk idiots who think they can fucking do what they want. When rough, clammy hands wrap around your arm and yank you forward, you almost lose your footing. You would have, if it hadn’t been for the blond stepping in front of you.

Easily Naruto pulls the unwanted grasp off of you, pushing him forward to give you enough room to escape. Your heart thundered in your ears. You stayed right there, right behind your savior.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” The blond all but snarls.

“Nothing, man. Just talking to the pretty girl.”

“Just talking, huh? Is that why you felt the need to put your hands on her? Backed her up into a corner after she told you to stop touching her?”

“I—“

He pushes the guy, making him stumble. “Get the fuck out of my house.”

It’s like a scene from a movie, moving in slow motion. You see the drunkard's face turn into pure rage, fist flying towards Naruto. He lands a punch, a solid one. A large gash splitting open on his right cheek. It starts weeping blood as you gasp. The guy swings again, Naruto dodges it, right hand grabbing it, twisting the guy’s arm before sending a first of his own. You hear the telltale crack of fist against bone as the guy falls to the floor.

“Kankuro.” He barks, getting the brunet’s attention. “Drag the fucker outside.” His voice is low and rough, and fuck if it doesn’t scream dangerous. And you’d hate to admit that it does something to you, that low voice and the blood on his knuckles and the way he stands in front of you.

You swallow thickly, watching the creep get literally dragged outside. Your gaze moves slowly from the unconscious man on the floor to the one who’s stood in front of you. His piercing blue gaze burns into you as you lift your hand and wipe away the blood that’s splattered on your cheek. That’s new. His gaze is so earnest, full of concern and slightly ticked off. The indent between his brows gives it away. Without thinking you reach out and rub it away.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

He shrugs. “I know. Didn’t feel right just watching, though.”

“I’m a big girl. I could’ve handled it.”

His eyes take you in from your head to your toes. You’re more covered than most of the girls here. With the way he’s looking at you, you feel damn near naked. “Oh, I know.” He stares a moment more, hands flexing at his side like he still wants to hit the bastard.

“You going to clean that?”

“I’m alright.”

You only hum. “Come on.”

You grab the unclenched hand and pull him along behind you. He’s letting you lead him up the stairs with certainty that you know which room is his. You only know Kiba’s and that’s because you’re here tutoring him three times a week. A small tug gets you moving, Naruto now in the lead. It’s only now that you take notice of his costume, causing you to snort. His blonde hair is down, shaggy, missing its signature bandana. A brown fur piece is wrapped over one shoulder and pinned at his waist. Fucking George of the Jungle saved you in the kitchen.

Naruto leads you down the hallway, second door on the left. You watch as he pulls out a set of keys from a hidden pocket. His mouth twitches when he hears you huff out a laugh. You don't have much time to look around his room as he leads you into the connected bathroom, but the one thing you can't miss are the stacks of comic books on every open surface — his nightstand, his desk, the dresser, the floor near his open closet. You’re tempted to slow down and inspect them, to see what kind of comics Naruto Uzumaki spends his time reading, but when you look up to see him narrowing his eyes as if he's genuinely light-headed, you forget all about the books and follow him into the bathroom.

It's cleaner than you expect for a college guy, and when you close the toilet seat cover and point for him to take a seat, he doesn't argue. You drop down to your knees and open the cabinet under the sink. The peroxide and gauze pads are sitting in a basket full of first aid supplies at the very front. You grab everything you need before standing back up and organizing them on the counter beside the toilet.

"So," he says, wiping his palms on his jeans as you wash my hands. "Is it everyday that you play nurse?"

You bite back a smile as you dry your hands with a towel and turn to him. "No, not normally. I’m not usually caught as a damsel in distress." You tease, picking up a gauze pad and dousing it with peroxide.

He watches you turn toward him, and he opens his legs even more, inviting you to step up between them to get closer. You hesitate before taking a step forward, leaving a harmless amount of space between your bodies as you start to clean his face. When you realize that your arms aren't long enough to clean his wound properly from this far away, you huff, fighting the urge to roll your eyes before you take another step forward until you're positioned between his open legs. He keeps his hands on his thighs and tilts his head back to give you better access, but you don't miss the near smile on his lips.

"Fuck." He jolts back when you press the peroxide-soaked gauze to his gash.

"I'm sorry." You wince. "I'll be gentle. I'm really sorry. I just — I have to clean it."

His eyes are still screwed shut in pain, his jaw tensing as he inhales slowly. It must be deeper than it looks. You can practically feel the pain radiating from him as he takes a deep breath through his nose.

"What, uh," you speak quickly, trying to distract him. "What did— what did you mean earlier when you said ‘I know’."

His jaw tenses again, but he opens his eyes and looks up at you for a long moment before he sighs. His gaze flicks down to the gauze in your hand before closing his eyes again, as if he's preparing himself for the pain, and then he leans forward and nods for you to continue.

"Well," he says, taking the time to think about his words. His voice is deep and throaty, and you have to keep yourself focused so you don't spiral and think about all the different ways he could use his voice. Like moaning your name. Your thighs slightly rub together at the thought alone.

"Mhm," you encourage, brushing the gauze across his cheek, cleaning away the blood from everywhere but the actual wound, too nervous to hurt him again.

"Just that," he states, only this time the tension in his voice is gone. "I see you. I see you, angel." His lips quirk up, and you can see the edge of his gash open a little more when his cheek twitches. “That costume ain’t fooling anybody.”

Most of the bleeding has slowed, and you bring your hand up and place it on his cheek, rubbing your thumb lightly to relax the muscle there so he won't open his wound any further. When you glance away from the bloody injury to his ocean eyes, you finally register what it is he said.

Your face shifts. Brows furrowing, nose scrunched up in annoyance. What the fuck is that supposed to mean? You’re trying to focus on cleaning the blood around the gash without hurting him, but honestly, it's hard when your temper is starting to flare.

"Yeah, there you are," Naruto laughs, his brows raise slightly, but you ignore him as you toss the blood-soaked pad into the trash and grab a new one. "You’re not fooling anyone, are you baby?"

You sigh, holding the pad tightly in your grasp. Even with him sitting on the toilet seat he’s still a head taller than you. Looking down, you grimace when you see your outfit. You blend in more now that you did when you first got here. A final girl, moment. That drunken idiot had spit out blood and it got all over you. So much for being an angel in white.

“I can fix that, if you want.” Your eyes flash to his, but his gaze is lingering on the white bodysuit.

“I’m not done.”

“It’ll heal.”

He’s up and out of the bathroom before you could blink. You follow behind him, eyes darting around his room, but they keep coming back to watch as his muscles move and ripple with every step he takes. God, this cannot be happening to you. Not a frat bro. Not the fucking president of the stupid fraternity. What the hell is wrong with you? But it’s too late. Much too late. Because this idiot, this sunshine personified, he already fucking owns you—and he knows it. A lump forms in your throat, your body plopping itself on the edge of his bed, fingers toying with the edge of the black comforter.

“Here.” You jump at the sound of his voice, making a blond eyebrow raise.

“Thanks.”

He watches you fiddle with the shirt he handed over. It’ll swallow you whole. A dress in its own right. A hand wraps lightly around your throat, Naruto grins at the sparkle in your eye. His voice drops lower, making heat throb in between your legs. “Kinda pointless to put my shirt on when I’m going to have you naked spread out on my bed, huh angel?”

“Yeah, probably. Kinda was thinking I wanted to ride your face first, though.”

“God dammit, angel. You can’t just say things like that.”

“Come on, Naru,” you whisper, standing up to bring your face closer to his. “Bet you can make me cry with your tongue.”

“Fuck,” he mutters.

There is no preamble. There are no sweet nothings. Your skirt is yanked off, hot kisses pressed to the inside of your thighs. Moans are pulled roughly from you when he begins to suck, leaving his mark on you. Your knees rest on either side of his head. Clothed center rutting up trying to find friction. You ache, you burn. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“This won’t be sweet,” Naruto breathes against your core, hands gripping you to hold your legs wide open, you hear the flick of his pocket knife, the one you know resides on his night stand, and fuck, you know what he’s about to do. You aren’t even angry that he’s going to destroy your clothes. Whatever gets you out of this stupid costume. “This won’t be gentle.”

The blade cuts through the fabric and you whimper.

“I know, Natu. I don’t want it gentle.”

“Think you can handle it?”

You pull his blond locks, making him groan. “Yeah, baby. I’m certain I can.”

His fingers dig into your thighs before trailing towards your core. He groans, feeling how slick you are. Curses fall from his lips, his finger running up and down your seam. Back and forth, back and forth before he shoves a finger inside you. It’s not enough. You want so much more. Need it. Your Naruto, your boyish, chaotic and mean sunshine boy knows exactly what you need. Pulling his finger out only to shove three in, you keen, hands running up his neck and into hair. Your hips are moving on their own, fucking yourself on his hand. He curves his fingers, reaching up in a ‘come here’ motion, and your thighs begin to shake. Speeding up his hand even more, Naruto starts to flick his tongue over the sensitive nub. His grasp on your thighs holds you down so you’d stop running away from him. His grip is so tight you know you’ll have bruises later. He can feel you quivering, you’re so close, but he isn’t quite done with you yet.

Pulling his hand out of you, he immediately smacks your pussy. Your hips rut up trying to chase the pleasure. He smacks it again before rubbing at your clit. You’re almost screaming from the pleasure. Hands knotted in the sheets, hips canting in the air.

“You’re sensitive tonight,”

You glare at him. “‘I wonder why.”

He laughs. “This is my fault?”

“Yeah, Naruto. It was your damn idea! A celibate angel. What a joke.”

You see the flash of his smile before his lips are crashing against yours. He’s ripping off his costume, throwing it behind him as he springs himself free. Your breath catches as you stare down at him. He’s leaking, hard, and throbbing. You pull yourself up onto your elbows as head tilting to look at him. His pupils are blown, black encompassed by a tight blue ring. It’s hot in the room, sweat slicking up every inch of available skin. You run a thumb over the tip, smearing the precum. Your nails nip at his skin and he shivers.

“Nah, all I got is a horny goddamn brat.” He says with a sharp grin.

“Watch it.”

“That’s not how we get what we want is it?” His voice is thick with want, but you can hear the underlying tone.

Pushing yourself up, you're quick to flip your positions. You hover over him, slowly running your soaked folds across him. He hisses at the feeling, sharp eyes glued to where you’re teasing him.

“If you wanted someone compliant, you came barking up the wrong tree.”

Slowly you sink down onto him. He’s almost too big. The head of his cock snags at your entrance, forcing you to start over. You breathe in nice and slow, working yourself slowly until you’re at the hilt.

“Holy fuck,” he hisses with a sharp buck, you had given him permission and he’s taking it, demanding more–needing more the second he feels the tight velvet of your sex.

“Naruto,” you whine, forehead resting against his.

He nods. He knows. He knows you need this as much as he does. You're clinging to him, hands tugging at his hair, cunt clenching around him like he’d slip free at any moment. His thrusts are slow, building a slow burn inside of you. Your toes curl because it’s just the beginning. You draw back, hips moving in a smooth tempo. You hit a good rhythm, letting yourself breathe, relax, and suck him in deeper. You’re almost where he wants you. He meets your gaze and his eyes hold something akin to mischief. You clench around him and he groans. He thrusts up a little harder than before, causing your head to fall back.

“Eyes on me,” You whimper and lift your head. “There you are, my pretty girl.”

You watch each other, a breath apart as you circle your hips and ride him nice and slow. You’re waiting for him to break. Any minute now. You go from circling your hips to lifting yourself up and down. He muffles out curses, hands gripping your hips to help you set a pace. It’s not a nice one. You flex your cunt, lower muscles bearing down as you grip him. He groans, the sound booming in the tight small space.

There’s pleasure coiling behind your pussy. “Naruto, fuck,”

“What do you need, angel?”

“Fuck me,” You whine, pulling on his hair. “Please, baby, please. I need it, need you.”

His gaze drops from your face to where he’s burying himself in your tight cunt. He nods before lifting his eyes. “Stay with me. Ready?”

You flash him a grin and he jolts, his cock twitching deep. You cling to him, desperate and a little dizzy. Your knuckles turn white with each rough, hard thrust. He slides a hand up your stomach, between your breasts so his hand can wrap itself around your throat. He loves to watch you come undone around him, and he’ll never let you forget it either. Your cheeks are flushed, pupils blown with lust, and lips parted as each of your clipped breaths turn into whimpers. He’s so big and you’re so fucking full. He fills you to the brim, cock dragging against your falls. You love every minute of it.

He hasn’t started yet. Not really, but your orgasm takes you by surprise. The course graze of his hairs against your clit. You lurch against him as a whimper escapes. You melt, boneless, like jelly. You’re loose and wet and fucking perfect. His nose presses into your cheek as he grinds into you.

“I love the way you feel when you’re coming on my cock.”

You snort, pulling yourself closer to him. Guttural grunts and low growls meet your ear. It’s a brutal taking, and you are not wet enough. Tears pool in your eyes, threatening to fall with every harsh thrust. You take what you're given, no complaints. You feel him firmly plant his feet, delivering a sharper thrust that has your head hitting the headboard. He mumbles a shitty apology (clearly not sorry at all) but his grasp on your waist is unforgivable. You’re bouncing on his cock now, meeting his every thrust. He’s deep, so deep you’re surprised you can’t taste him. You pull his hair, grinning when he hisses.

“You gonna come for me again, angel?”

Naruto knows you can’t talk. He knows you’re fucked out, gone stupid on his cock. He loves when you get like this, even better when you ask for it. You shift, opening up your legs a little wider. He groans feeling himself sink deeper into you. You’re swollen and raw and you’re living for it. Nodding, his name falls from your lips, breathless–he’s your only savior.

It builds and builds and builds until it has nowhere to go. It roars forward, jolting you, a scream ripped from your throat and your nails digging into him so hard you can feel when he starts to bleed. Naruto is right there. He holds you into place, stubble grazing your cheek. He fucks you through it, jamming himself into your searing overstimulated sex, he meets his end. His grip tightens, a low gravel filled groan comes from deep in his chest, filling you up. Shuddering he falls back against the bed, gasping for air.

“Fucking hell,” he mutters, breaking the silence.

You fall forward, hugging him tightly to you. You hadn’t realized how much you’ve been missing him until you were drunk off of him. You’re aching and sore but you refuse to move away from him. His eyes are still dark and heavy-lidded as he regards you.

“Keep me in there,” he reminds you.

“Mhm.” You hum, scratching his head with your nails. “Missed you.”

“I’m right here, angel.”

“I know, still. You haven’t been inside me in almost a month.” You lightly run a finger over his brow making sure not to touch the gash along his cheek.

“Apart from my birthday.” His words make you grin. “You’re right though, it’s been a shitty month.”

You laugh, lifting your head to kiss him. Both of you jump when someone bangs against the door of his room. You press yourself tighter against Naruto.

“If you guys are done fucking, I’d like to win a game of beer pong.”

Your eyes widen. Kiba. Naruto laughs and pulls his shirt down over your head. You adjust yourself the best you can, watching Naruto as he stands to put his costume back on. He looks back at you, sunshine pouring out of his smile.

“What am I supposed to tell people I’m dressed as now?” You ask, wrapping your arms around him.

“Mine, angel. You’re a mean, nasty brat and you’re mine.”

#naruto x reader #naruto one shot #naruto uzumaki x reader #naruto smut #naruto fanfiction

[peppermint-toads]

i neeeed jealous Carmy smut with an equally intense reader

𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚜 i decided to combine these two because duh 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 carmen berzatto and female reader, smut, jealousy, sad reader, carmen has feelings, 1.7k

The day had been boring. It was raining, cold, and a bank holiday. Even Richie was in a sour mood, not cracking jokes and busting your balls like usual. 

You mindlessly wiped down the counter with a sopping towel, leaving behind streaky water marks in your wake. As you were about to drop the towel back into the little red bucket on the floor, somebody caught your eye. 

He had dirty blonde, curly hair that kind of looked like Carmen’s. You remembered him, barely, from your algebra class in high school. He looked a lot different now, a lot taller, his limbs were crammed into the booth he sat in. 

Technically, it wasn’t your job to wait tables; you were only responsible for ringing in the order and shoving the greasy food over the counter. But something carried you away from the register and over to his table. 

Just a friendly hello, that’s all you wanted. Confirmation that it was him. Nothing more. 

“Can I get you anything else? More water?” You asked with a bright-eyed, charming smile, allowing him a few seconds to take in your face, see if his memory served like yours did.

You waited for the moment of realization to sweep over his features. His eyes lit up and a small smile curled his lips, and he beamed as he recognized you. 

“Y/n? That you?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, pinching your brows together, though, to look confused. “How do you know me?”

Coy, coy, coy.

“Oh, uhhh, we had algebra together senior year. We were lab partners.”

“Right!” You acted surprised. “You're Matthew, aren’t you?”

He shook his head in disbelief as he recalled further, an air of pure nostalgia clouding the two of you into a foggy bubble. “That’s right, it was so long ago I forgot! You went out with that Brent guy, I never got the chance to make a move on you.”

You felt your face heat up. 

“I always flirted with you, you know?” His green eyes were getting a little too intense, a little too pretty. Your stomach sank as you thought about Carmy who had to have been only a handful of feet away. 

“I was too busy staring at Mrs. Johnston’s hairy mole to notice.”

The two of you were lost in a fit of snorty giggles, so lost, in fact, you barely noticed Carmen sneaking out of the kitchen and staring at you from behind. 

Carmen had been so abruptly lured from the kitchen by laughter, your laughter intermingled with another deeper tone.

He watched as you placed both of your hands flat on the table, leaning down closer to the man. He couldn’t see, but he was sure your v-neck shirt wasn’t leaving much to the imagination from that angle. 

He smacked his spoon on his open palm, harder and harder the longer he watched the interaction unfold. He reached his limit when Matthew reached up to rub the end of your shorts between his thumb and pointer finger, glancing up at you with I’m absolutely dying to fuck you eyes. 

He’d taken it too far when he touched you like that, and you let out a nervous breath, about to tell him you should get back to work as the guilt really sunk in. 

Carmen had never really understood jealousy until that moment, until his hand grazed your thigh. You'd never given him reason to feel threatened. He didn’t quite understand why his throat burned the way it did, or why his teeth clenched the way they did. 

Before he knew it, he was approaching the two of you, greeting your ‘friend’ by grabbing him by the shirt collar and pulling him out of the booth. He stumbled to his feet, shouting a “What the fuck, man!” But Carmy was pulling him close to his face, almost spitting in his face. 

“Get the fuck out, alright?” 

His tone was low, but effective, because Matthew was running towards the door. 

“And don’t fucking come back!”

You stood there uselessly, mouth agape and sputtering, probably catching flies. Carmen stood there with you, running his hand over his mouth and down his chin, then letting it drop by his side. 

And Richie whistled, finally perking up at exactly the wrong time. He raised his eyebrows and glanced around at the entire staff as if he were asking you guys seeing this shit?

“Fuck, Carmen! He didn’t even fucking do anything!” 

“Really?” He gaped. “He had his hand up your goddamn shorts?”

“What do you care anyway, huh?”

He just stared at you, jaw still clenched tight. 

Suddenly feeling very aware of your coworkers eyes boring holes into your skull, you rubbed your arm and looked down at your non-slip shoes. “I’m going home, Carmy. Go fuck yourself.” 

“Your shift isn’t over for another four hours!” 

Too late. You were already out the door, getting soaked in the downpour. The train ride home was long, wet, uncomfortable. 

You were entirely ready to sulk in your apartment by yourself, showered, fed, in your pajamas. You pulled your comforter over your head, willing yourself to stop thinking about Carmen, to just go to sleep. But you couldn’t stop counting down the hours, minutes until Carmy would be closing the restaurant and starting his commute home, silently expecting him to show up at your door. 

And he did. 

Banging on your door with a closed fist, Carmen stood outside of your apartment. 

You flung back the covers, shoving your feet in your slippers and wrapping a blanket around your shoulders. 

You let him in. You didn’t even have to think about it. 

He pushed past you, pacing in your tiny foyer before grabbing your face and shoving his lips onto yours. You hummed, temporarily relieved to feel his soft, soft lips pressed onto yours so perfectly. But then you were shoving him off of you, so hard he almost hit the opposite side of the hallway. 

“Are we gonna talk about today?” You asked, trying to conceal how breathless you were from just one kiss. 

“He was being an asshole.” 

“He was just flirting with me, Carmen. You’re not my boyfriend. You said it yourself.”

And he had told you that, told you that the restaurant was his priority, not you. He remembered the day he’d said that to you, and how closed off you were the rest of the day. He thought he maybe saw you crying.

“Is that what this is? Are you trying to get back at me, or something?”

Your tone quickly turned defensive, but the more you thought about it the truer it sounded.

“Fuck–Maybe! Maybe you made me feel like shit, Carmen! Maybe you made me feel like I’m just here so you can get your dick wet!” 

He couldn’t even begin to synthesize his thoughts and put them into words, that wasn’t something he was good at, ever. He decided he could only try and show you. 

His lips were back on yours in a frenzy and you couldn’t decide if you wanted to push him off or crumble under his touch like you always did. You let him shove your back into the wall, his hands shakily pulling off your t-shirt. 

It was his t-shirt, but for once he wasn’t going to be an asshole and bring it up.

The entire thing was rushed and frantic. You weren’t even sure how you ended up in your bed with your legs wrapped around his hips, him shoving his cock into you greedily, like he couldn’t get close enough, deep enough. 

The groans he let out, that you swallowed right up because his mouth was so, so close to yours, were steady and deep and made your stomach flutter.

“You feel so good.” He whispered, kissing right where your ear connected with your face. “Fuck I—I wanted to tear him apart. Hated seeing you with him.”

“I’m sorry.” That was all you could say as you searched his eyes, only finding hurt behind them. 

His hand smoothed up your thigh, grazing the spot where your old friend’s had hours earlier and you felt like crying. You felt like telling him you loved him. 

You bit your tongue, turning so you didn’t have to look at him anymore. He dropped his head into the crook joining your shoulder and neck, hot breaths tickling your skin. You felt his curls on your collarbone and you couldn’t help the sob that got stuck in your throat. 

Carmen pushed himself up on one arm, using the other to push your hair back from your face and kiss your forehead. 

Soon he was shuddering as he came inside of you. His head drooped between his shoulder blades and he stared down at your heaving chest. 

He pulled out, resting his back against the pillows. When you didn’t move, he hauled you up the bed himself, tucking you under his arm. 

A tear rolled down your cheek and onto his bare skin, and you smiled sadly. The warm pad of his thumb swiped it away. 

Maybe you were crying in anticipation, expecting him to leave again, maybe you were crying because of how much you loved him. 

You felt him sigh, your head sinking and rising with his breaths. 

“I didn’t know what to do today.”

You glanced up at him through wet lashes. 

“When I saw him touching you.”

You looked away from him again. 

“Tell me—” you paused. “—tell me what we are.” 

You didn’t want to tell him, and never would, but you were so tired of the back and forth. 

“I don’t know.”

He felt more of your tears on his skin. 

“All I know is, when I saw you with him I knew I didn’t want to see you like that ever again.”

#carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto angst #carmen berzatto x female reader #carmen berzatto smut #carmy berzatto smut #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto angst

[a-writer-on-elm-street]

so i rewatched the boy again recently and i realised there are a lot of things i find hot that i probably shouldn't?

so i made a list:

the mask (this is probably the most normal one on here)

brahms' fucking hands like holy shit, when you first see his hand when he comes out the wall? someone explain to me why that is one of the hottest things i have ever seen

his hair (it's greasy af and that man is in serious need of a wash but his curls, i would die for those curls)

when brahms pins cole to the floor

also, when he smacks malcolm with whatever weapon he was holding (i literally don't know what it's called) i can't explain this one, it's just the way he moves as he does it? idk

speaking of the way he moves...whenever he slowly turns his head like idk it just makes me feel things

"i'll be good, i will."

"get back here."

"kiss?" (when i tell you i'd be pouncing on that man jesus christ)

this. right here:

the curls. the eyes. the goddamn cardigan!?? yes please.

anyway, that'll be all. i also did this for house of wax and with the way this is going, i kinda want to do this for other horror films. :)

#brahms heelshire #the boy #the boy 2016 #brahms the boy #horror