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bleedingoptimism · 4 months

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As Steve walks into the grocery store he pulls his sunglasses off, only to put them back on again immediately. The lights of the store make the back of his eyes sting. Hungover from a bad headache, not that people here would care why. Whatever, is not like everyone already doesn’t think he’s an asshole. He doesn’t need to perform for anyone anymore.

A guy, singing to himself down one of the aisles peaks his attention, he’s tall and has long black hair and Steve belatedly remembers that he’s Jon’s friend from California.

“Argyle?” he asks, more to himself than to him, but Argyle turns and smiles at him as if they are old friends. He approaches and grabs his shoulder, shaking him a little.

“Oh! Hi Stevie!”

The confidence and attitude he carries himself with make Steve smile for some reason. It’s like he’s very sure of himself but in a nice way, not in a douchey way, like his high school buddies were. Although hearing someone call him “Stevie” reminds him of Tommy and a very different time and he can’t help but shrink inwards a little, “Oh no please, just Steve,” he says with an apologetic smile, pulling his sunglasses off again and placing them on his head. And because he doesn’t want Argyle to think he’s the douchebag, he explains further, “‘Stevie’ brings back bad memories,”

Argyle leans his head to the side with a pout but then smiles and squeezes Steve’s shoulder, “Dude, it’s fine, we can just make new ones, man! Better ones.”

Steve’s first reaction is to scoff. As if it were that easy… but then he thinks, hell, maybe it is. Maybe it is and it makes him smile. Argyle is way too outgoing for it to be comfortable for other people, it’s kind of ridiculous. For a second, he wonders if Jonathan found it jarring when he first met him. But Steve finds it refreshing. He shakes his head and smiles,

“So what were you looking for? Maybe I can help?” he offers.

Argyle turns in a circle, letting go of Steve’s shoulder and opening his arms wide, like he’s presenting the store to Steve, “See man, I'm mentally preparing myself for the munchies. I kind of wanted to make a pizza but like sweet? You get me?”

“Like a pie?” Steve chuckles.

“That! Sounds delicious, dude! But I don’t know how to make a pie,” Argyle laments, and Steve has no idea what possesses him to say,

“I do. You want help?”

Argyle stills his whole body and then shakes it before he starts snapping his fingers rapidly, startling Steve.

“Ok! Ok ok ok ok ok! Are you busy right now, man?”

“Just need to buy my groceries…” Steve says unable to keep the bewilderment off his expression.

“I’ll help you with that, we’ll buy things for the pie and then you invite me over, how’s that my dude?” Argyle says, no preambles, “I have a doobie and a lot of questions about all the shit that went down” he adds moving his eyebrows up and down quickly.

“What about Jon?” Steve can’t help but ask.

“Ah man, Jonny is with Nancy right now. Those two love birds had a lot to talk about, so I figured I’d make myself scarce.” Argyle answers, nodding apprehensively at his own statement.

Steve finds himself nodding along before saying, “Yeah, okay. Let’s do it!”

“Hell yeah, Stevie!” Argyle exclaims throwing his arms up and this time, Steve doesn’t cringe at the nickname.

After that, Argyle follows Steve through the store, helping him put things in the cart, making a few comments about differences in products or prices from California, but mostly staying out of the way and humming to himself. Steve asks him what he wants the pie to be (strawberries and chocolate) so he gets the ingredients for that too and then they are off.

When they get to his place, Steve tells him to get comfortable while he puts stuff away but Argyle helps him out before sitting on a tall stool in the kitchen and watching as Steve gets all the ingredients for the pie laid out.

“You know dude, you’re kind of exactly how I imagined you’d be,” Argyle tells him, gifting him another one of his smiles.

“Really?” Steve asks surprised.

“Jon told me all about you, man,” he answers nodding.

Steve raises an eyebrow at that, “And you still want to hang out with me?” he asks, half judgy, half defensive.

“Of course! Because you know what I got from it, dog?” Argyle asks and Steve just stares at him, afraid to know the answer.

“That you are a good person, Stevie! So you got off to a rocky start dude, so what? I think that makes you all the more interesting.”

Steve purses his lips in an attempt not to smile and raises an eyebrow.

“You went to hell and beyond for someone you didn’t even like! You’ve paid your dues and a half for whatever shit you did when you were younger and it could’ve made you bitter or closed off, man! But it didn’t. Not even the tiniest little bit. You barely know me and you invited me over and offered to bake pie for me, dude!”

Steve chuckles and shakes his head, “You got all that from what Jon told you? Also you invited yourself over,” he jokes.

Argyle laughs and then just shrugs, choosing to ignore Steve’s question about Jon.

He lets it go, and Argyle lights up the joint while he starts making the pie. After they both get a few hits, Argyle starts asking him about everything. ‘Start from the beginning’ he says.

Steve starts off a little stiff but gets looser with the weed and Argyle's presence and ends up telling him practically everything. Argyle asks a few questions every once in a while, sometimes about the process of making the pie. Sometimes some really intense shit like ‘and how did that make you feel?’, ‘did you think you were going to die?’ ‘were you scared?’.

Steve answers everything honestly, and it feels incredibly cathartic. His favorite questions are the ones about the pie though, and he smiles the biggest when Argyle says next time he’ll make one for him.

In turn, Steve asks him how he met Jon and chuckles when Argyle confirms his thoughts and tells him Jon didn’t like Argyle one bit at first.

“He said I was too happy. He didn’t trust it. Dude couldn’t trust anyone that hadn’t gone through some kind of shit in their lives” Argyle laughs, “But I can thaw even the coldest of hearts, man! As we got to know each other, he realized that I did have my own shit going on, but that happiness was a choice for me. Is who I had chosen to be.”

They talk about that too, how it wasn’t an easy choice. How some days it’s harder than others, to keep at it. How all the Upside Down shit affected him too.

By the time the pie is done and the joint is gone, Steve feels incredibly close to Argyle. Like they’ve been friends forever.

“So that’s pretty much it,” he says with a sigh after finishing a rant about why he doesn’t keep in touch with his high school buddies because Argyle had asked about them.

“Dude, you’ve been through so much,” he says solemnly.

“Yeah, you know that’s…. Life…” Steve says, shrugging. He doesn't know exactly what to say, suddenly feeling very awkward at being seen.

“Nah, Stevie. Me being kicked out of my house as soon as I was old enough to get a job ‘cause my parents couldn’t afford to keep feeding me and my younger siblings…. That’s life.” Argyle says seriously and quickly dismisses Steve's worried face adding, “It’s ok dude, they were great parents, they raised me well and I still go visit every other weekend” And then sighs and looks sternly at Steve again,

“Like I said, that’s life. What you’ve been through? Was hell”

“The kids had it worse- Ell-” Steve starts but Argyle interrupts him.

“That doesn’t erase what you've been through, Steve. It doesn’t make it less of a nightmare, man.” Steve just looks at Argyle as what he’s saying sinks in.

“And you got through it, dude. You came out the other side even a better person than when it started and like- you saved lives! You saved my best friend's life and like- like- you should be proud of yourself Stevie. I’m proud of you, man” he finishes with a carefree smile. As if he hadn’t just rocked the ground Steve was standing on. And he doesn't know if it’s the weed, or Argyle’s words, or both but Steve closes the distance between them and hugs him.

“Oh, hey! Hugs! I love hugs!” Argyle laughs, and hugs him back, taking it all in stride.

“Sorry,” Steve sniffles embarrassed, “I didn’t know I needed to hear that till you said it,” he croaks.

“Nah, it’s good. I got you” Argyle responds, patting his back lightly.

The hug is wonderful, friendly, warm, and just the right length but when he’s stepping away from Argyle, he hears a wary sound from the kitchen door.

“Uhm…hi”

It’s Eddie. Pocker-faced and cautious and Steve knows him well enough to know he’s freaking out inside.

“Oh, hi! Eddie! Good to see you, dude!” Argyle says good naturally and completely out of the loop. Steve smiles at him too and rubs his eyes with the back of his hand to dry them off a bit.

Whatever Eddie was thinking goes out the window when he looks closely at Steve and walks towards him, leaning closer to look him in the eye, “You okay?” he asks concerned.

Steve nods and Argyle clears his throat, “I’m going to… set the table for three,” he says, so maybe, not as out of the loop as Steve first thought.

Eddie completely ignores Argyle and grabs Steve’s face, his thumb caressing the underside of his eye, “You really ok?” he asks again and Steve chuckles,

“Yeah,” he answers with a smile.

Eddie hums and then looks back towards where Argyle is opening and closing cabinets in the dining room, looking for plates, “So… Should I be jealous?” he asks and Steve snorts amused,

“Of course not,” he says.

“You sure? ‘Cause maybe your type wasn’t curls and big eyes, maybe it was long hair and weed all along,” Eddie presses and Steve can tell he’s trying to make a joke out of it but is actually asking for real and Steve gets frankly, really annoyed.

“You know what? Maybe you should be jealous. Argy would never accuse me like that,” Inwardly he cringes at the nickname but it gets the point across. Eddie’s face falls and he looks devastated and terrified for a second before Steve smirks bitchily at him and then Eddie is frowning.

“Asshole” he murmurs, despite still holding Steve’s face as if it were precious and fragile.

Steve steps closer, placing his hands on Eddie’s waist, “You started it” he says as an apology. Kind of.

Eddie huffs and moves his hands to Steve shoulder’s, one thumb pressed to his pulse, “I regret it”

Steve hums, “Just for the record? A little possessiveness is kind of hot,” he says and pecks the tip of Eddie’s nose, “You questioning my feelings for you? Is not.” and then flicks it.

“Dully noted,” Eddie nods.

Steve looks him in the eye as he leans closer, kisses him fully in the mouth firmly, eyes open the whole time, and then whispers “Good boy,” before he steps away.

He smirks again seeing the full-body effect his little stunt has on Eddie. The way his eyelids fall, his mouth opens, the goosebumps on his arm hair, and the shiver that runs through his spine. He takes a moment to take it all in before he smiles, less predatory and more friendly. Eddie smiles back, and shakes his head amused, like he can't believe Steve is real. He does that a lot.

Steve then takes Eddie’s hand on his own and kisses his knuckles before moving past him and dragging him to the dining room with him,

“Now c’mon. Let’s go eat pie with my new friend”

e͟n͟d͟

a coffee? a doobie? ☕🥐💕

#stranger things #argyle #steve #friendship #and a little #steddie #on the side #because i cant help myself #i wrote something

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mypoisonedvine · 8 months

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Ok 1 I love your Halloween theme, and 2 can I request a delightfully unhinged threesome between estranged twins, jackson and Dr. Crane 👀

oh my i wonder who could've given you such a ridiculously thirsty idea!!! definitely wasn't me ummm anyways this turned out to be another full length fic, so. yeah.

𝖌𝖊𝖒𝖎𝖓𝖎 | jonathan crane x reader x jackson rippner

length: 3.6k

warnings: NONCON SMUT (dark as fuck, 18+ only, read the warnings), kidnapping, implied stalking, yandere!jonathan, threesome with oral m receiving and breeding kink, housewife kink, slight corruption kink, possibly inexperienced jonathan??

It was eerie, seeing his twin on the other side of the doorway; it wasn’t quite like looking in a mirror, but it was closer than anything else was.

The differences were obvious, and had only become stronger over time: the hair, the glasses, even the way they dressed. But the biggest difference between the brothers was their smiles… in fact, Jackson was wearing that tilted, toothy grin already. “Well, look at you,” he greeted smugly, “Doctor Crane.”

“I wasn’t sure you’d really come,” Jonathan admitted quietly.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d ever call me again,” Jackson laughed as he stepped inside, despite never actually having been invited in. “Nice place, Doc— guess they pay you pretty good at the looney bin.”

“We, uh, try not to use that term,” Jonathan mumbled as he watched Jackson roam the apartment, getting a little nervous that he might break one of the more expensive decorations or artifacts.

“So, what’s this problem you needed my help with?” Jackson wondered as he spun on his heel to face his brother. “Must be a pretty sticky situation you’ve got yourself in if you have to ring up your big brother.”

“You’re only four—"

“Four minutes older, yeah, I know,” he rolled his eyes, “but somebody had to be first.”

“I need… advice,” Jonathan finally answered, “regarding a sort of… sensitive situation.”

“You can spare the foreplay, Jonny, this isn’t my first time,” Jackson smirked. “Just tell me what happened.”

“Nothing… happened, really,” he sighed, “I just… there’s someone that needs to be… dealt with.”

“If you want a hit, I don’t actually do that,” Jackson explained, “but I can call somebody for you—“

“Not a hit, no,” Jonathan shook his head, “the opposite, really… I need her kept alive.”

Jackson raised an eyebrow. “Oh? A ladyfriend you want protected?”

“Uh, sure,” Jonathan mumbled awkwardly, “but I’ll take care of that. It’s her, um, footprint, if you will. Her old identity, and all that— I need her to disappear, so to speak. W-well, she already disappeared… I just need people to stop looking for her.”

“You know, you’re always full of surprises, Jonny,” Jackson laughed. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you have this woman in your basement.”

“I don’t have a basement,” Jackson replied.

“That’s… not the part I was expecting you to deny…”

Soon enough, Jonathan escorted Jackson to his bedroom, where you were tied to one of the bedposts by your wrists, curled up in a shaking little ball, watching with wide eyes as the two men entered the room. Jackson realized you probably hadn't seen anyone other than Jonathan since getting here-- that, or you were just thinking oh fuck, there's two of them?!

“Why’d you dress her up like that?” Jackson snorted, admiring the vintage-style dress and heels, with a matching set of pearl earrings and necklace. “I didn’t know you were so… traditional.”

Jonathan cleared his throat, his cheeks tinting a bit pink. “Can we just focus on the present issue, please?”

"And what a lovely issue it is," Jackson cooed as he stepped closer to you, admiring you with a tilted head.

You watched him approach with wide eyes, finally speaking in a broken whisper. “Please,” you choked out, “help me— he’s keeping me here, I think he’s gonna kill me—“

“Oh, I’m not worried about that,” Jackson smiled, “he’s real sweet on you. I’d just be worried about whatever freaky shit he’s into.”

“Well, as you can see, she’s not adjusting very well,” Jonathan sighed. “I thought my drugs would help— and she’s pretty obedient when she’s been given a large dose, so I was sort of right— but I can’t keep her high all day, she’ll build a tolerance. And I know her case is going to get a little too much attention, if there isn’t some kind of closure for the police or the family sometime soon. I mean, a beautiful, promising young medical student? Gone without a trace? It’s cable news catnip.”

“You’re right about that,” Jackson agreed. “There’s a pretty face perfect for the papers.”

As Jackson reached to tilt your chin, petting the line of your jaw, Jonathan slapped his hand away. “Hey, hands to yourself,” Crane warned, “she’s mine.”

“Okay, Mr. Defensive,” Jackson widened his eyes, raising his hands like he was perfectly innocent. “How sloppy were you? Are they gonna find any evidence that brings them here?”

“I don’t think so,” Jonathan sighed, “but you can’t be too sure. Even without evidence, she took one of my classes, so if they get desperate enough they can certainly trace her to me.”

Jackson sighed. “That’s tricky,” he nodded. “And it gives us two options.”

“Which are?”

“The happy ending, and the sad ending,” Jackson explained. “Happy ending: I get one of my little computer nerd friends to fake a plane ticket to somewhere exotic. Send a postcard to a friend. Just like that, she’s absconded from her old life, escaped the pressure of med school, and everyone thinks she’s off somewhere getting her groove back or whatever.”

“And the sad ending?”

“Bloody clothing planted by the woods, with a tip that somebody saw her hiking,” he shrugged. “Big bad wolf got to her. Simple as that. That one’s handy because no one’s gonna expect her to come back… and you can have her all to yourself, forever.”

Jonathan bit his lip, obviously excited by the idea. “I'm guessing that will require taking a sample from her?"

"Not too much," Jackson promised, "you're a doctor, you can do it safely."

"She's scared enough of me as it is," Jonathan sighed. "I thought she would... take to it a little faster."

"What, you thought she would like getting kidnapped?"

"I thought she would appreciate how well I can take care of her," Jonathan clarified.

"Oh, Jonny," Jackson laughed, "you haven't learned a thing about women since the last time I saw you, huh?"

Jonathan didn't even have the heart to deny it.

"When they ask if they look fat in something-- you just say no, don't even look, okay? It's like DARE: Just. Say. No." Jackson informed his brother sternly. "And when they say they're not hungry and don't want anything, just order some fries anyway or she's gonna end up with half your entrée. And most of all-- you can't forget this one-- they really dislike being kidnapped and held in captivity."

Jonathan crossed his arms. "I knew that," he announced defensively.

"Let me ask you this," Jackson began with a twinkle in his eye. "Have you used her yet?"

Jonathan shuddered a little, looking embarrassed as he looked at you and then to the floor. "J-just once..." he admitted. "That was... a lapse in restraint. I had wanted to wait until she was more comfortable, but..."

"But you just couldn't help yourself with a sweet little thing like this in your bed, huh?" Jackson finished. "I get it. And she looks cute when she's scared."

You shuddered under Jackson's hungry stare, and he winked at you. "So, you'll take care of it?" Jonathan reminded him. "Happy ending or sad ending, whatever you think is best."

"Well, I'm always a fan of a happy ending," Jackson smirked. "You know speaking of: I figure I can give you a good deal on this whole thing... you know, since you're family."

"Alright," Jonathan nodded.

“I’ll make sure her case is closed… if you let me take her for a spin.”

It seemed to take Jonathan a moment to realize what that meant, before he laughed incredulously. “No,” he asserted, “absolutely not.”

“Oh, don’t be so insecure,” Jackson pouted, “she’ll still be yours when I’m done with her. You can keep her for the rest of your life— I’m just asking for one night.”

"I can pay you very well for your time, Jackson," Jonathan promised.

"Eh, money's boring," Jackson shrugged.

"If I recall correctly, women tend to bore you pretty easily as well," Jonathan accused with a frown.

"Sheesh, you kidnap one woman and you start getting all judgmental that I haven't settled down," Jackson rolled his eyes. "I don't have a lot of time for anything serious, that's all. In fact, I barely have time for anything these days. That's why I figure I can help you break in Mrs. Crane over there."

"I don't need any help," Jonathan promised.

"Except for the part where, if I don't help you, you're probably gonna get caught with a missing woman tied to your bed," Jackson reminded him.

Jonathan sighed, clearly realizing the choice he had to make.

“C'mon, just a little favor for your favorite twin brother? You can stay and make sure I don’t do anything you wouldn’t… approve of,” Jackson rolled his eyes, “you prude.”

"She's innocent," Jonathan breathed, "that's what I liked about her-- it's why I had to bring her here. You'll... you'll ruin her. I can't let you do that."

“Seems like you don’t really have a choice,” Jackson noticed, lowering his voice and leaning in closer to Jonathan.

There was a pause, and finally Jackson turned to leave the room as he patted Jonathan on the back.

"Get a good lawyer, buddy," he offered as his final piece of advice.

But before he could take another step, Jonathan relented with a sigh: “Make it quick.”

“Hey,” Jackson shrugged with a grin as he shed his jacket and tossed it aside, “no promises.”

He all but leapt onto the bed, crawling up to you as you whined and shrunk away.

“Did y’hear that, babydoll? Jonny said it’s my turn to play with you,” he purred.

As you tried to shrink away, he grabbed you by the ankle and pulled you down, forcing you onto your back and keeping your tied wrists above your head as the rope when taut.

He growled as he laid on top of you, leaning in to kiss your neck. “I can make it good for you,” he breathed, “if you behave. It’ll be so much better than whatever my idiot baby brother does to you— promise.”

Jackson's hands crawled up your skirt, and he bit his lip as you kicked your legs in protest.

"Be good, baby," he warned you sharply. "Good girls get a treat... you know what bad girls get?"

You didn't seem that invested in an answer, but he continued anyways as he lowered his voice and spoke by your ear.

"Bad girls get fucked up the ass," he whispered, giving a quick little kiss to the side of your face; suddenly, you relaxed a bit under him and stopped resisting so much. "That's a good girl," he praised, spreading your legs a bit and petting them until he reached higher and found you totally bare under the dress. "Oh my, Jonny didn't even give you panties to wear? Poor baby..."

Jonathan shuddered and crossed his arms, looking away with his head and yet unable to actually look anywhere else but the bed. He was trying to figure out how his brother had gotten you to behave so quickly... when Jonathan had given in to temptation and forced himself on you, it was a constant battle to keep you down as you kicked and screamed and begged him to stop. Whether it was the sight before him now, or the memory of that night, Jonathan felt his cock twitch in his trousers.

Jackson sat up a bit, opening his own pants and sighing as he wrapped his hand around himself. "Fuck, look at that pretty pussy," he purred as he held your legs open wide with his other hand. "Oh, we're gonna have so much fun together, sweetheart."

He spit straight down onto you, smearing it around your opening with his tip, before pressing right up to your hole. He groaned loudly as he slid inside-- one long, slow stroke as he filled you. You whined and shut your eyes tight, but otherwise resisted the urge to struggle.

"Fuuuuck," Jackson purred, holding on tight to your hips as he simply buried himself inside you for a moment. "So tight, honey, Jesus."

Beginning to move, he laid himself down over you and kissed your neck again, moaning against your skin. You whimpered, back arching slightly under him, and he smiled when he felt you tense up as he thrusted into you just a little harder.

"Oh, baby, feel how deep I am?" he grunted. "Feel how good I'm stretching out that little hole? Fuck, keep squeezin' me like that and maybe I will make this quick..."

He grabbed your hips and yanked them up a bit, holding you right where he wanted you-- and sitting up again, so he could get just the perfect angle as he started fucking into you again. Normally he would build up a little more naturally before being so rough but, well, you weren't going anywhere... he could just use you and chase his own pleasure. That said, he still grinned proudly when you moaned suddenly, your head falling back and your back arching. That was when he decided that, even though he had no real obligation to make you come, he was going to anyways-- if for no other reason than to know that he could take total control of your body, and force you to an orgasm even unwillingly.

"Right there?" he taunted as you whined, giving you fast and hard thrusts right into the place that made you bite down on your lip. "Yeah, that's it-- you're getting so wet, honey, you feel that? Gonna soak my fucking cock, aren't you?"

He tilted his head back and shut his eyes, letting himself bask in the feeling for a moment. You made little sounds, obviously trying to hold yourself back, but the longer it went on the less you were able to fight it-- soon you were properly moaning, arching your back deeper, your walls clenching on him rhythmically as you came.

"Fuck, just like that," Jackson praised as he watched you give into it. "Just like that, baby, fucking cream all over me-- good girl."

Jonathan watched in astonishment as you quivered all over, nervously clearing his throat as he tried to conceal the throbbing erection in his pants-- and it seemed to remind Jackson that his brother was still standing nearby.

"What was that about your girl being innocent, Crane?" Jackson laughed. "'Cause she seems like a desperate fucking whore to me."

“H-how’d you make her do that?” Jonathan asked with a shaky whisper, licking his lips a bit as he watched you writhe against the mattress.

“Nothing to it, really,” Jackson smiled, “just gotta find that spot and beat the hell out of it. Here, I’ll show you.”

You whimpered as Jackson pulled out and slid his fingers inside you, curling them against the place that had become more sensitive than ever.

“Right here,” he explained, “you try it.”

He took his fingers out as Jonathan approached the bed— and you felt Jonathan’s fingers slide in a second later, a bit more hesitance to his movements. He let out a wavering sigh, and Jackson smiled.

“Feel the swollen part? Rub her there— hard.”

He curled his fingers slightly and you bit your lip.

“Harder,” Jackson instructed.

“I-I don’t want to hurt her…”

“Well, she needs it rough,” Jackson laughed, “so man up and make her come!”

You yelped when Jonathan harshly pressed into the spot, making your whole body shake as he started to thrust the digits in and out of you. “Wow,” Jonathan breathed as he watched you, his brother smiling proudly next to him.

"She can probably come again pretty fast," Jackson assumed, "you should try. See how fast you can make her scream again."

Jackson, meanwhile, moved to kneel by your head, slapping your face a little to cue you to open your mouth. He groaned as he rubbed his tip over your tongue, forcing you to taste yourself alongside his salty precum.

You unintentionally clench on Jonathan's fingers, and he smiled wide. "Like that?" he asked eagerly. "Are you gonna come again?"

"Just keep doing it," Jackson urged his brother before speaking to you again. "C'mon baby, you can take a little more."

Holding your hair, Jackson started to fuck your mouth a bit more earnestly, making Jonathan frown at him after you gagged a few times. "Be careful," he warned him, "don't hurt her."

"I know, I know," Jackson rolled his eyes. "But look at that mouth, Crane, don't you think it's just made to take cock?"

Jonathan couldn't exactly disagree, he'd fantasized about your mouth plenty of times. But now, he was much more focused on your pussy-- he was watching it closely, enraptured by the way his fingers moved in and out of it... and the way it responded, gripping him tighter and tighter.

"Go on, suck it," Jackson ordered you impatiently, smacking you on the cheek again to try to encourage you. You whimpered and hollowed your cheeks, blinking up at him as he grinned down at you. "Oh, pretty eyes-- I can tell why Jonny couldn't resist you..."

You moaned again, and Jackson raised an eyebrow as he looked down for a moment at what Jonathan was doing-- which was moving his fingers faster inside you, watching you whimper and writhe as you reached the edge again.

"Show me," Jonathan begged, "come for me-- come on my fingers."

It happened pretty quickly, and Jackson let you take a break from sucking him for a second so they could both enjoy your pretty moans as you creamed around Jonathan's fingers.

"O-oh, fuck," Jonathan gasped, "I can feel her... pulsing."

"Yeah," Jackson grinned, "really something, isn't it?"

"Fuck," Jonathan said again, taking his fingers out and suddenly climbing onto the bed. "Need to feel that on my cock."

"Atta boy," Jackson praised with a laugh.

Jonathan moaned loudly as he pushed inside you, your own reaction a muffled groan around Jackson's cock which he shoved between your lips again. "Oh, god," Jonathan whined, "you feel even better than I remember, angel-- fuck, I missed you so much."

He was even more desperate and impatient than before, fucking you quickly and eagerly even though you were far too sensitive for it after coming twice in a row.

Jackson pulled back out of your mouth, but held your head steady as he stroked himself rapidly. “Gonna coat that pretty face,” he growled, “keep your mouth open, baby, I’m close…”

You whimpered and tried to keep your throat shut, afraid to choke on his come while laying back like this, and after a few more moments he groaned loudly as ropes of come fell over your face and onto your waiting tongue. You grunted a little in surprise but just tried to squint your eyes in case some got too close, but the vast majority went into your mouth or over your cheek.

"Fuck," Jackson purred, milking his cock for every drop before finally taking his hand away and sinking back, looking down at you with a new redness and sheen of sweat to his face. "Good girl. You can swallow now baby-- oh, wait, let's make sure you get it all first."

He swiped up the come on your cheek with his thumb, feeding it to you as you closed your lips and swallowed his salty spend.

"I told you good girls get a treat," he grinned.

Jonathan, meanwhile, was panting and whimpering and clearly trying to hold himself back-- but the way he held you tight enough to bruise gave away how close to the edge he really was. "I can't wait," he finally admitted with a groan. "I need to come, angel-- I need to come inside, get you pregnant. Then we can be happy together."

Suddenly, he started to rub your sore clit with his thumb; and you jolted again, pulsing around him as he sighed and dropped his head onto your shoulder.

"Fuck, beautiful-- just like that, let me feel you come again, please. Then I can fill you so deep..."

"You can make her come one more time," Jackson assured, "she's so sensitive-- go on and come for him, baby, let him feel how hard you come..."

Though Jonathan was a little irritated by the way Jackson made it seem like a favor you were doing on his behalf, he couldn't complain when he felt you coming around him, slick walls pulsing so perfectly around him that he had to come with a loud, broken moan. He kept moving until he was sure he'd given you everything, heart racing as he imagined and hoped that he'd properly bred you this time.

Then, there was a silence. Not very long, but plenty nervous as the three of you caught your breath.

"Well... mazel tov," Jackson offered with an awkward laugh, getting up off the bed and getting himself back in order. "I'll call you when it's all taken care of, Jonny. You, uh... you have fun with her, alright? Call if you need anything or, you know... feel like sharing again..."

"I wouldn't hold my breath for that, Jackson," Jonathan sighed.

"Don't miss me too much, honey," Jackson winked at you as he slipped his jacket back on. "But feel free to think about me so you can get off while this guy's fucking you," he joked, motioning to his brother with a tilt of his head.

"Don't listen to him, angel," Jonathan cooed at you as Jackson finally left the room. You shivered a little as he trailed kisses all over your face and neck, holding you a little tighter. "You're all mine-- you finally know that now, don't you?

#jonathan crane x reader #scarecrow x reader #jackson rippner x reader #jackson rippner smut #jackson rippner dark smut #jonathan crane smut #jonathan crane dark smut

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briefalpacashark · 1 month

Text

~Cowboys and Men = Part Two~

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“She's her own woman. Who knows not to mess with pretty little cowboys like you,” Jonny stated. He didn't like the cowboy from the moment they meet. Weather that be due to the insult or not was unimportant.

“We’ll see about that,” Arthur smiled, walking away.

“Can we kill him?” Ghost asked.

“Such a pity a civilian was caught in the crossfire,” Jonny shrugged, adding onto Ghost’s statement.

“I volunteer. I'll just say my aim was off,” Gaz offered.

“Easy boys,” Price shut down the idea. But he wasn't necessarily opposed to it.

Tommy was a good rider for his age. He stayed on the back of the beast of a bucker longer than anyone else. Then it was your turn.

“Fucken hell,” you whispered as you climbed into the pen sitting atop the horse that moved around ready to send you straight to hell.

“You look nervous,” your head snapped to the side to see Tommy smiling at you.

“He's wild,” you nodded down to the horse.

“You can still back out,” he suggested. That smile he wore, was he being suspicious or just a dick. “Ain't no shame in being a buckle bunny,” he stated. Your face settled into a frown at the insult.

“Lets go!” you announced. Man, that horse rocked you. You lasted an average amount of time. At one point, you lost your hat. You were thrown from the horse in a dramatic fashion tumbling across the ground. The people cheered as you got yourself to your feet. When you recovered from the fall, you looked around for your hat. It had fallen out of the arena. With your body still buzzing with adrenalin, you jogged over to it. As you were about to reach down Arthur had picked it up.

“Than-” your words trailed off as he took off his own and placed yours upon his head. Your face flushed as you were reminded of the hat rule. He grinned, leaning down over the railing holding his own out to you.

“Ohhhhh looks like she's got an admirer. You two youngins be safe tonight,” the announcer called as wolf whistles sounded front the crowd. You brushed your nose, ducking your head in embarrassment.

“Will she take the hat?” the announcer asked.

“Take the hat! Take the hat!” the crowd began to chant. God, how did it happen? Spotting Tommy watching from the side, you second guessed your actions. In one of the meeting Price had order you all to blend in. To play the part.

If he thinks you're a buckle bunny you'll play the part of a buckle bunny. You took Arthurs hat and placed it on your head, the crowd going wild. Arthur smiled, tipping the hat to you as you walked off.

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It was game time. You all convened drawing your hidden guns as you headed for Tommy, only when you arrived at the garage he was gone.

“The fuck?” you questioned. When returning to Arthur he meet the team halfway with a sorry look.

“He left early, right after your run,” Arthur stated in an apologetic tone.

“Let's go. We should still be able to catch him on the road,” Price suggested.

“Hey, come on. He'll be here again tomorrow. You'll have a better chance then anyway,” Arthur held his hands up to slow you all.

“Why's that?” Jonny asked.

“Less people. He stays for drinks after,” he stated.

“You better not be fucking us around,” Ghost warned, turning fully to tower over Arthur.

“Wouldn't dream of it,” he answered. You all turned to Price ready to act on his decision.

“Fine,” Price stated. The boys walked off, ready to head back to the ranch. You walked up to Arthur with a bashful smile.

“Here,” you said, handing his hat back to him.

“You know the rules, right?” he asked. Wear the hat, ride the cowboy. If you put on a cowboy's hat, it meant one of two things. He was coming home with you or you were going home with them.

“I do. But I was playing a role. To keep Tommy thinking I'm the buckle bunny he suspects,” you said beckoning for your hat. Arthur looked slightly disappointed at your words.

“I see. But I want you to know the offer still stands,” he said, taking your hat of and stepping closer to place it on your head.

“And while I'm flattered, I'm sorry but I have to refuse,” you stated with a small smile.

“It's the Ghost boy isn't it?” he asked. You sputtered a resonance as you chuckled, stepping back.

“Funny,” you said fixing your hat so its brim covered your eyes from his gaze.

“Well, if I was him I'd get a move on,” Arthur stated with a knowing smile before walking off. With a huff you shock your head searching for the boys, unknownst to you one particular one with a skull mask was situated in a shadow watching the whole situation with an uneasy feeling in his belly.

“If I were you I'd get a move on,” Ghost knew Price had approached him. But his statement still made him jump.

“Don't know what you're talkin bout,” Ghost muttered.

“That cowboy’s working his magic. I’s get in before you regret it,” Price stated with a knowing look. Ghost stared at his Captain a man he trusted with is his life.

“Men like us don't deserve a woman like her Captain, we don't deserve happy endings,” Ghost muttered. Price nodded. A part of him wanted to agree.

“Well she deserves the world. And if she wants you in that world are you going to refuse?” Price asked.

“She deserves better than me John,” Ghost whispered. His hands were dipped in too much blood to ever hold her.

“I don't think so,” Price shrugged.

“Oh yeah, what do you think?” Ghost almost snapped at the man.

“I think you deserve each other,” he whispered, giving Ghost shoulder a firm pat before walking away. He didn't say it with malice. He said it with a kind smile. Trying to tell his solider that he did deserve happiness.

That night you were all sat round a fire with a few of the ranch hands. All drinking and simply enjoying the night. Some shared stories. Jonny made up a few of his own playing the part of the cowboy. One of the ranch hands were plucking a banjo admitting he had just started to learn. After a few seconds he was forced to put the instrument down by the many annoyed ranchers.

“Damn thing sounds like a cat dien,” A rancher called.

“Come on now, the banjos a beautiful instrument,” you called out in defense. You were sat in between Price and Ghost on a log.

“You did hear what we hear right?” Jonny asked, pointing to the embarrassed lad.

“No offense, but you need to hear it played right. It can be beautiful,” you said.

“Oh yeah prove it,” Gaz dared. With the help of a little alcohol you shrugged, standing up. “Hold that for me, will ya sweetheart?” You asked passing your bottle to Ghost who automatically took it.

“Not your sweetheart,” he grumbled. You chuckled with a wink before walking over to the lad.

“May I?” you asked. He handed over the instrument and the picks which you slipped onto your fingers.

“Didn’t want to say anything before, but it probably would help if ya tuned it,” you said plucking a few stings to get the right tune. Arthur stood from his seat, which was semi center allocated and offered it to you.

“Why thankyou sir,” you tipped your hat as you sat down.

“Now, no one make fun of me. I'm a little rusty,” you whispered.

“There is no way you know how to play that thing,” Jonny muttered. You smirked giving him a wink as you adjusted.

“This one's called sugar hill,” you muttered before you began. To there surprise, a cohesive and beautifully uplifting melody echoed from your fingertips. Your audience was silent as smiles settled onto their faces. It was peaceful, beautiful. It was a moment you wished you could freeze. Yet when the song ended so did your little fantasy. Everyone cheered and clapped.

“Oncour!” Arthur called.

“Alright, if the crowd wishes,” you grinned befor diving into another song.

After a while everyone was sort of talking to themselves. You sat by the lad form before giving him a few pointers.

“So Ghost was it. What do you do?” Your head snapped up at the question much like the other boys. Next to Ghost saw a woman, drop dead gorgeous and she knew it type of woman. She sat really close to him. A seductive smile on her lips.

“I'm on Anna’s team,” he stated simply. “I know that. What's your speciality?” she asked. She was just making conversation. Only it wasn't just a conversation for Ghost. It was an interrogation. One he need to keep his cover though. His mind went blank. All he had to say was something to do with horses, or management. After all you didn't think the boys would be asked anything past that. Laswell certainly didn't so she didn't give the boys specialised jobs in your so called team. In all Ghost’s wisdom he turned to look for help. His eyes mistakenly rested on Jonny.

“He's uh. He's our musician,” You and Price almost smacked your foreheads at the words. Out of all the jobs Jonny could have chosen he chose musician. Ghost eyes narrowed into a glare for a split second before becoming blank.

“Oh my, that's amazing, what do you play?” she asked, moving closer. So close that her chest brushes by his arm. Your frowned at the gnawing feeling that settled in your stomach.

“Guitar,” Ghost answered.

“Oh you're in luck,” the woman dispersed to the back of truck before pulling a guitar out. Great, just great. She trusted the instrument into his hands with an excited smile.

“Will you play something for me? Please,” she flashed her pretty eyelashes.

“I don't feel like it,” Ghost stated.

“Oh come on. What, you not a real musician then?” she pressed teasingly. Ghost was a good soldier, so he knew he had to do whatever he could to keep his cover. So to all your utter shock he slipped the guitar on. And started playing.

I can't help falling in love with you, by Elvis Presley.

I can't help fucking falling in love with you by Elvis Fucking Presley.

His voice was beautiful, deep and steady. Like the beat of an old tribal drum. His eyes focused solely on the guitar as he sang. The team was shocked into slack jawed silence. Simon Riley was singing and play the actual guitar. You never thought you would see the day.

And you found yourself wishing. Wishing that the person he was singing to was you. A stupid dream. You didn't see it, in fact you just missed it. Ghost had looked to you, a slight flicker of his eyes caught by very few. When you looked up at him, his eyes had returned to his guitar. Two gazes so soft, only for it to have been missed by the two they were intended for. It was painful for the boys to watch. When the song finished, everyone cheered yet again. The girl wasn't wearing a hat so when she reached over and took Ghost and placed it on her head with the bite of her lips, almost everyone cheered and whistled. The girl blushed and ducked her head. The hat rule. Wear the hat, ride the cowboy.

They look good together. You thought. His eyes were focused solely on hers as she spoke.

A sad smile spread across your face as you acknowledged the painful truth. Simon would never be someone like that to you. Sure you were friends, well, you hoped you were friends. But he had never made any clear signs. Every time you would say something sweet he would shoot it down. Just remembering his pervious comment, your throat stung bitterly. You were good at hiding dejection, you could pretend like it didn't affect you at all. But it did.

Love wasn't in the cards for you. You supposed you had accepted that fate long ago. Still knowing the fact didn't make it hurt any less. You tried not to think about it as you continued to teach the guy. Still, the mind rarely listens to you. Moments of the past passed through your mind, all the times you had tried to flirt. Tried to lay down a hint. Tired to be sweet. Tried to show him that you liked him. All ended in either being shot down or ignored. It wasn't like he was rude about it. He just didn't leave any room for misinterpretation. Misinterpretation you constantly enacted when you failed to see the expressions his mask hid.

And it didn't help that the only time he was sweet to you, when he held your hand so tenderly in the hospital. When he pressed his lips to your palm and leaned into your touch. Due to the drugs you couldn't remember a single moment of it.

“So what do you think, we proper cowboys now or what?” Jonny asked Arthur.

“Well you ain't proper cowboys till you've played cowboy poker,” Arthur shrugged.

“The fuck is cowboy poker?” Jonny asked.

“This is the stupidest fucking thing I've ever done,” Jonny looked like he was about to shit himself. At the moment you all were sitting around a shitty plastic table on shitty plastic chairs. You Gaz, Jonny, Price, Ghost Arthur and another lad. In the middle of a coral.

“So we just sit here!?” Gaz asked as he breathed deeply and quickly on the point of hyperventilation.

“Yes sir,” Arthur sung from beside you as he handed you a bottle of whiskey. You took it downing a good two gulps.

“This is stupid,” Price grumbled.

“And yet you're still sitting here,” you stated, handing the bottle to him.

“Not a word to Laswell. Understood?” he gave you all pointed looks.

“What scared you'll get in trouble from the missus?” you asked.

“The wife?” Arthur asked. You all chuckled as Price shook his head, handing it to Gaz.

“Are we really doing this?” Jonny asked. At first he thought it was just a joke, but as he saw the bull being rounded up he was staring to grasp the situation.

“Whatever you do Jonny, don't get off the seat,” you said.

“This is fucken mad,” he whispered shaking his head and snatching the bottle from Gaz.

“Forget your big boy pants back at the shop Jonny?” Ghost asked.

“Fuck you LT,” he snapped.

“SOMEONE WANNA EXPLAIN THE RULES?” Gaz asked.

“Last one at the table wins the pot,” you said watching as they slipped the bull int he chute that lead to the coral.

“Don't worry the bull always goes for the table first,” Arthur shrugged.

“THIS IS CRAZY!” Gaz screamed.

“Yeah not much smart thinking went into the creation of this. Pretty sure it was just booze and idiocy,” you stated.

“Set em free!” Arthur yelled. The sound of the gate crashing open sounded and the bull was let lose.

“Fuck this,” Gaz was the first to leave taking the bottle of whiskey with him. You all watched as the bull locked in on its target. It cleaved through the table Jonny and Price leaving before it hit. The table was destroyed and Arthur jumped out the way before the bull plowed straight through him. That just left you and Ghost.

“Scared big guy?” You asked.

“Never,” he stated. Your eyes locked as the bull found the two of you. You were a little way aways from each other, You had sat on opposing seats so that meant the bull was going to choose one of you. It was a stare of between the two of you as you heard the bull fast approaching.

Were you a little angry at Ghost? sure. You liked him and he didn't like you. A small flicker of childish rage bubbled within you. How dare he not like you? What was wrong with you? Why not you? It was a stupid little thought, but it was still there. So you kept his gaze, both of you refusing to look away.

And one moment Ghost was there and the next he wasn't, broken plastic chair legs flipping through the air. The bull had slammed into him.

“Oh shit,” a chuckle left your lips as the bull ran off. “You alive big guy?” you asked, rushing up to him in a bit of worry. Your eyes watching the bull that fought with the piece of chair stuck on his horn. You had to get out of the coral.

“No,” Ghost grunted painfully.

“Come on, don't wanna get hit again do ya?” You asked, pulling the man to his feet. The two of you rushed to the fence of the coral. Ghost found his thoughts not on the worry of the bull hitting him for a second time but focused on your hand. Which held his tightly as you pulled him away. Making it just in time, the bull pulled to a skidding stop as you both flung yourself over the top. You hit the ground beside Simon your hands still clung together. As you gazed up at the stars loud laughter erupted from your chest as you gave his hand a squeeze. Simons eye on the other hand was focused on you.

“That, my fiends is cowboy poker!” Arthur called, holding his hand out to you. You pulled your hand from Ghost’s grip and took the offered helping hand.

Later that night, when everyone was asleep, you snuck out to the field, taking the banjo in hand. You continued to drink as you rested upon a tree plucking the banjo as you tried to sort out your thoughts. Which unfortunately constantly pulled themselves back to a certain activity you though Ghost, and the girl were partaking in. Unbeknownst to you, Ghost had completely ghosted the girl, avoiding her at all costs.

“The fuck you doing out here?” Ghost voice had you flinching, knocking the bottle of booze all over you.

“Shit,” you cursed.

“Drinking on the job?” he asked with a teasingly disapproving tone as he approached.

“Well, can't always be the model soldier now can I?” you asked, putting the bottle to the side whipping the alcohol the best you could.

“The boys got worried when they woke up and you weren't there,” Ghost explained. You checked your watch. It was 5 am around the time you all would usually get up. You had not realized that you had sat out there for so long.

“I'm a big girl,” you shrugged.

“True,” he nodded, sitting down on the log closest to you.

“Didn’t know you could play the guitar. Much less sing like an angle,” you muttered.

“Think I sing pretty?” he asked. You smiled.

“Like a siren Simon,” you said flashing him that smile he loved so much.

“Didn't picture you as a Elvis fan,” you said.

“Oh, yeah?” he asked.

“Yeah, picture you more as a heavy punk. Maybe a little rock,” you shrugged with a teasing smile.

“Well for your information I partake in the enjoyment of the country quite often,” he said.

“Oh, really?’ you asked, a small chuckle leaving your lips involuntarily. A contagious one seeing as Simon's shoulder shook slightly with a chuckle of their own.

“I wanted to be a cowboy when I was a kid. Dreamt of owning a farm of my own,” he admitted. You paused your plucking. Simon had never talked about his past before. It seemed to serious for him as he quickly changed to a joking tone.

“The guitar original started as a way to impress the ladies,” he stated.

“Well you don't need any help there. That chick seemed smitten with you,” Simon briefly caught onto the slightly bitter bite that came at the end of your sentence. He wanted to believe it, but he also believed it could be his mind playing tricks.

“Just like you are with the cowboy?” Simon didn't know why he said it. Perhaps he wanted you to repute it.

“Who? Arthur?” you asked with a snort.

“What? He's got the horses, money, he's alright looking,” Simon shrugged. You shook your head the whiskey bring out your honesty like it always did.

“Nah. He's uh, he's not the one for me,” you stated simply.

“Who is?” The blatant question caught you off guard. You chuckled nervously, casting your eyes down to the banjo as you plucked it.

“I uh, I don't know,” you muttered. Simon tried not to be dejected at it. “The fucker better hurry up though. I'm getting impatient,” you joked, your eyes flicking up to Simon”s for only a second. It was only a second they needed to be caught in the pools of brown. Simon was studying you, like he did to everyone. Taking in everything about you. But there was something else in his eyes. He seemed like he wanted to say something. Price's words burned in his mind. He wanted to offer himself up as a potential candidate. But as hard as he tried, his tongue simply wouldn't move. You waited a few moments for him to say anything. Then you waited a few more. A sad smile spread across your face. It wasn't possible.

“The girl you end up with is gonna be one lucky bitch Simon,” you whispered turning away from his gaze as you stood. You put the banjo down as you watched the sun rise.

“You think?” finally his mouth wanted to speak. It just didn't say the right thing.

“I know it,” you whispered, patting his shoulder as you walked past him, back to the house. Your hand squeezed his shoulder before slipping off. Simon’s hand reached up, his fingers missing your’s by mere millimeters.

In a bush nearby, Soap slammed his palm over his eyes, cursing his two teammates under his breath.

Everything was going great. You and the team had a plan. You were seated at a bar area with Tommy not too far away. The second day's events came and went. And now you were just waiting. Waiting for Tommy to peel away from the group so you could nab him.

A beer was placed down in front of you.

“Sorry I didn't order this,” you spoke up to the bartender.

“He sent it for you sweetheart,” she said, pointing to Tommy. You forced a smile, giving him a cheers motion. He politely dismissed himself from the people he was talking to and made his way over to you.

“Hell of a ride yesterday,” he said.

“It was average,” you shrugged. He smiled as he sat down beside you fairly close. So close in fact that your shoulders were pressed together.

“Yeah, it sure was,” he stated. Your heart stopped as you heard the click of a safety. A moment later you felt a cool metal pressed through your shit into your side.

“Well shit,” you muttered, deciding to take a large sip of the beer.

“Shit is right, sweetheart. Now listen close or i'll blow your guts over that lovely girl next to you,” he threatened nodding to the woman who sat beside you. He had a gun pressed against you.

“There's an awful lot of people here,” you stated.

“Good thing my gun has a silencer on it. And if I'm not mistaken, you look a little drunk,” he said his lips twisting into a cocky smirk.

“Wouldn't be surprised if you passed out, you know. But being the general man I am I’d be sure to take you to a quiet spot,” he suggested. He was right. The music was blaring. Nobody was paying attention to you. And you were alone. You were the lookout. The boys were stationed elsewhere in wait for him. But he didn't know that.

“My boys are watching mate, I wouldn't,” your words got cut off by his boisterous laugh.

“No sweetheart. You see, I know they're waiting for me tucked in little hide holes around the exit. I know you're all alone. Now what you're going to do is tell your little friends that I'm on the move. Heading in a completely different direction than they think I am. Then you and I are gonna slip out the back where I have a car waiting,” he explained it all.

“And if I don't comply?” your question was answered by the gun being pressed further into your side. Yet your gaze remained unfazed. Unshaken. There was no fear in your eyes.

“Then I kill him,” he stated, nodding to the bartender. “And her,” he said, nodding to another random person. “And her,” he added, nodding to a little girl who walked by. You stared at Tommy trying to see if he was speaking the truth. To find any lies in his eyes. You couldn't see anything, he was good at hiding his thoughts. And you couldn't risk it.

“How did you know?” you asked.

“I got a little tip off,” he shrugged.

“From who?” you asked.

“And why would I tell you?” he asked.

“I don't know, cowboy to cowboy?” you suggested. He chuckled again.

“You may be a cowboy kid. But there's things that are a little bit more important than that. Now on with it,” he stated. Rolling your tongue along your inner teeth, you pressed you finger to your ear.

“This is Bingo, Bushy, you there?” you asked. At the other end of the coms, the boys all frowned in utter confusion.

“What is she on about?” Jonny asked.

“Doc? This is Bravo 6. Repeat your last?” Price asked.

“Bingo has visuals. Target on the move. Casper and Dirt are clear to engage. He's headed for the west car park,” You hoped and prayed that the boys would understand.

“Good girl,” Tommy said, reaching up to rip the earpiece off before you could get a response from them.

“Capser and dirt? What's that supposed to be? Me and Ghost?” Jonny asked.

“She's not using out code names,” Ghost stated into his comms the realization washing over them like a wave.

“Somethin’s not right,” Price grumbled gruffly.

Tommy had quickly taken you out of the bar area to the secluded back. You were walking to the car, the gun now pressed against your back. Your hands were clasped behind your head per his orders as he had taken your concealed weapons, but he still didn't trust you.

“Isn't this the part where you say I'm not going to get away with this?” he asked.

“Don't need to say something I know is gonna happen,” you shrugged.

“What?” his question was answered by a gun shot. You moved to the side and back, slamming your body against Tommy pinching the arm that held the gun between your arm and side. His pain scream ripped through your ears, a shot having cleaved through his leg. Your hit sent him flying to the ground as you ripped the gun from his grasp falling with him. Pulling your elbow back you stuck him in the face.

Bullets ripped above you as the boys took out the few enemies that emerged from the car. Flipping Tommy who was wallowing loudly in pain over you slipped some zip ties around his hands. Pulling them taunt you glanced back at the car gun at the ready. Finding all enemies neutralized you stood.

“Doc you alright!?” Price was the first to make it to you.

“Course. Took your time,” you muttered.

“Ghost had to get into position,” he nodded to the shadow that stood on a nearby building sniper on his shoulder. Holding your hand up in thanks, he simply nodded.

“We look like a bunch of rag tag outlaws in these getups,” you stated as you heaved Tommy up along with Price.

“Price she alright?” Ghost voice pressed into Price comm.

“She's all good,” Price said back.

“Tell em to stop worrying. And remind Jonny he still owes me a photo,” you told Price. When Ghost joined back up with you, you flashed him your usual smile.

“Thanks for having my back Big guy,” you held you hand out for a fist bump.

“That not your blood is it?” he asked nodding to your pants. You looked down.

“Of course it's not mine. What feel your shootings getting a bit skew?” you asked. As you went to look up your vision was blacked by the brim of a hat. A hand placing it on your head and ruffling your hair with it.

“Quick thinking Doc. Good job,” Ghost hand left your head where he had placed his hat. You tilted it back watching as Ghost loaded Tommy into the back of the truck.

He had put his hat on your head. Through your faint blush, you shock your head. He didn't know about the rule. You told yourself to stop being delusional as you got back to work.

Little did you know Ghost knew all about the rule. Thats why his heart hurt so much to see you willingly taking another man's hat. As you left Price was talking to Arthur. Arthur's eyes scanned over you all as he waved a small goodby. You waved back falling to notice Ghost standing behind you with the smuggest look of victory on his face. After all you were still wearing his hat.

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=Cowboys and Men Part 1 Here=

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=COD Master List here=

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#141 x reader #141 x you #cod 141 #cod ghost #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #task force 141 #tf 141 #simon riley x reader #cod #cod mw2 #ghost cod #call of duty

370 notes · View notes

estrellami-1 · 9 months

Text

If I Should Stay

Part 1 | . . . | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11

Nancy gets back with Jonathan not too long after. He barges in and makes a beeline straight for Steve. “You know where Will is?”

Steve nods. “There’s a lot to explain.”

“Then you’d better start soon.”

Robin, his savior, steps in. “C’mon, Jonny-boy, let’s go for a walk.” She leads him outside, and Steve can hear her start. “What do you know about time travel?”

He smiles and looks around. He can hear Eddie upstairs, practicing the song. The boys are occupied with planning, Nancy’s looking over Mike’s shoulder, and El’s watching him with big brown eyes. He focuses on her and lets his smile grow. “Wanna help me make dinner?”

Her eyes widen a little, but she nods. “What are we making?”

“Probably sandwiches,” he shrugs. “I’m not sure what else I have. Can you find the bread in the pantry? And there’s butter knives in that drawer over there, we’ll need two.” He winks. “One for you, and one for me.”

She does so, and he pulls out the condiments and lunch meats, as well as the jelly. “And the peanut butter, if you can find it,” he calls from where his head’s stuck in the fridge. He looks around for anything else he might need and grabs the pickles before closing the door.

“Y’know the best part about making dinner?” He asks her, impish grin growing on his face. She hums inquisitively. “We get to make ours first and eat while we make the rest.”

She giggles and accepts the high five he holds out.

They get to work assembling sandwiches. She pauses, mayonnaise slathered halfway onto a piece of bread. “Steve?” He hums. “I’m scared.”

He sighs and puts down his knife. “I am too, El. Terrified, if you can believe it. But I have faith in us. I know we can do it.” He wipes his hands off and rounds the counter, taking her hands in his. “You are the strongest person I’ve ever met in my life. Even stronger than Vecna. And this time he won’t know we’re coming. We’ll have the element of surprise on our side, and we will defeat him. We’ll find Will and Barb, and after this we’ll never have to worry about it again.” He strokes a hand over her head and sighs. “There’s something else, too. I know where Papa is.”

She pulls back, eyes wide, posture stiff. “Whoa, hey, it’s okay,” he soothes. “I’m not going to take you back there. Ever. Okay?”

She nods hesitantly, but allows him to pull her closer again. “I was going to ask if you want us to take care of him,” he murmurs. “Lock him inside and set the building on fire, or something.”

She shakes her head. “He loves me!”

“Oh, El,” Steve whispers. “I thought the same thing of my parents for a long time. No matter how mad they got, how much they yelled, how much they hurt me… they said it, so it must be true, right? They must love me. I must be the problem.” He shakes his head. “That’s not love. You fear him, El, and for good reason. He made you into what you are, but you never asked for this, and it’s okay to be angry about it.” She looks up at him with wide eyes, and he sighs. “I’ll give you some time to think about it,” he murmurs. “If the answer is still no, that’s okay. But if you change your mind, that’s okay, too.”

She nods, steps out of the hug. He lets her go, feeling like he’s almost knocked a vase off a table. His heart’s still thumping oddly, eyes wide, scared to make the wrong move.

But then she looks up at him and offers him a small smile. “Thank you,” she says. “I know the way you treat me is different from how Papa treats me. I do not know yet if they are simply different forms of love or if you are right. I think you are, but…”

“You need to see for yourself,” Steve nods. Moves the metaphorical vase back from the edge of the table. “Let me know if there’s any way I can help prove it.”

“I will,” she says, and picks up her butter knife again, spreading mustard onto a piece of bread. He goes back to his side and smiles at her.

“Steve?” She asks after a second. “When my hair grows back. What does it look like?”

He thinks for a second. “It’s fluffy,” he says. “Very soft and light. Like cotton candy.” He puts his head to one side. “Floofy,” he decides, and grins.

She giggles. “Like you!”

He opens his mouth to tell her no, she’s wrong, except… he can’t. “Yours is even more beautiful,” he tells her. “And kids in school nicknamed me ‘the Hair’. That’s how famous this was.” He tilts his head her direction, and a lock of hair falls in his face. He splutters and shakes his head, grinning when she laughs again.

“I am very glad you came back, Steve,” she says suddenly, seriously, a little at odds with the smile still quirking her lips up.

His heart breaks and mends all in the same second. It feels like absolution. “Me too,” he says, and means it.

Permanent Taglist: @justforthedead89 @ilovecupcakesandtea @madigoround @bookbinderbitch @suddenlyinlove @nburkhardt @artiststarme @paintsplatteredandimperfect @i-less-than-three-you @alyelf @quarble @messrs-weasley @littlewildflowerkitten @vankaar @starman-jpg @bornonthesavage @steddie-there @goodolefashionedloverboi @andienotannie @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @platinum-sunset @just-ladyme @steddiestains @swimmingbirdrunningrock @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @martinskis-lydias @notaqueenakhaleesi @sleepyboosstuff @bestwifehaver @m-owo-n @thatonebadideapanda @finalmoondragon @velocitytimes2 @callmeanythjing @ajeff855 @ilikeititspretty @knitsforthetrail @sillysparrow @that-one-corvid @ace-is-bored @local-writers-corner @harpymoth @weirdandabsurd42

Fic Taglist: @blondlanfear @do-you-want-something-more @str4wb3rry-guy @paperbackribs @ninjapirateunicorns @bisexualdisastersworld @hiscrimsonangel @lolawonsstuff @xo-r4e @thedragonsaunt @l0st-strawberry

#stranger things #if I should stay #steve harrington #eddie munson #eventual Steddie #slow burn #robin buckley #platonic stobin #eleven #jane hopper #this is just an excuse for me to write #Steve and el as siblings #i love them your honor #Steve and el #starambles

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 months

Text

To be alone with you 7

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, power imbalance, cheating, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your babysitting gig becomes complicated. (f!plus sized!reader)

Character: dilf!Clark Kent

Note: Long time, no see.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

Spaghetti and meatballs. Simple and delicious. You assume it’s one of Clark’s specialties, the way Jonny talks about it. A plateful steams before you, the garlicky scent tugging at the appetite you hadn’t noticed before.

After the unsettling night alone, you’re starting to feel normal again. It’s comforting to have someone else there, even if it is Clark. He’s not a bad guy, he’s nice enough, it’s just that underlying imbalance that makes it awkward. Technically, he’s your boss. Even if he wasn’t, he’s much older, you’re not sure you have much in common.

“Uh, what do you want to drink?” Clark calls from the kitchen, “I see Sprite and… not much else.”

“Oh, I’ll have one, please,” you answer. You don’t drink soda often, your mom’s the one who keeps the Sprite in the fridge but it’s so hot out you could go for a crisp drink.

You wait patiently, not wanting to be rude and start before he’s sitting down. It only seems right after he went to all the trouble of cooking for you. Clark appears with two glasses. You’re surprised he didn’t just bring the cans but don’t think much of it.

He puts a glass beside your plate, then his own, a few cubes of ice in his. You notice how his hair curls with the heat, a little askew from his efforts in the kitchen. You smile and thank him for the drink.

“This looks good. You really didn’t have to go to all this trouble. Dad left me pizza money.”

“It’s fine. I’m a bit restless without anyone around. I’m used to this,” he shrugs as he sits down, his shoulders wider than the chair. Sometimes you forget how big he is. It’s almost absurd when he’s just an overworked suburban dad in your head.

“Dig in, please. You didn’t have to wait,” he stirs the sauce into his noodles.

“Oh, it’s okay,” you twirl your fork in the pile of pasta. You blow over the steaming sauce and lean forward, tasting it as you try not to flick sauce all over. You hum and do your best to slurp up the ends of the noodles without making a mess. “That’s pretty good.”

“Yep, got more than my good looks,” he chuckles, “I can cook too.”

You smile, taking another bite and chewing through the tension. There’s a bit of zest to the sauce. You can’t disagree with his self-appraisal. He can cook.

You take the folded paper towel next to your plate and wipe your lips before you reach for your soda. You gulp it greedily and nearly choke. You sputter as the carbonation bubbles up to your nostrils.

“You okay?” Clark asks, his cheek ticking.

“Oh, yeah, yeah,” you sniffle and push the paper towel to your nose. You laugh at yourself and clear your throat, “I… haven’t had sprite in a while, guess I forgot how it tastes.”

“Ah, well, did you want water?” He asks.

“No, it’s fine. Not bad,” you turn the glass and look at the soda, “bit of an aftertaste.”

“I don’t really have soda,” he sits back, poking at his plate, “most water. A juice box here and there.”

“Makes sense.”

Your forks clink as you eat in silence. The air is thick as both of you search for something to talk about. Where you’re struggling to find some commonality, there’s a twitchiness to him that suggests he’s trying not to say everything.

“If you’re up for it, maybe we could watch a movie?” He suggests.

“A movie?” You weigh the prospect. You suppose it’s a better idea than staring at the wall. Movies are a great way to fill awkward silences. “Sure, why not. Been a while since I saw anything good. Do you have anything in mind?”

“Nah, not really. I mostly end up watching Pixar so it’s on you. I trust your judgment.”

“You shouldn’t,” you scoff, “I love Pixar.”

He smiles and gives a small chuckle, “well, just don’t be mad when I mouth along with the dialogue.”

“Kidding,” you take another sip of Sprite, trying to wash away the tomatoey tang, “promise, adult movies only.” You cringe as you realise what you said, “I mean, grown-up– er–”

Clark laughs louder, “I got it,” his cheeks bulb as the cleft in his chin deepens, “I know what you’re saying, don’t worry about it.”

“Right,” you shift in your chair, thoroughly embarrassed. You really are so smooth. It’s a good thing it’s just him, you’re sure he’s not very worried about your dumb remarks.

🏡

Despite your efforts to help, Clark insists on cleaning up. You let him as you go upstairs to take a quick shower. Sweating in the sun reading all day has left you feeling a bit musty.

You pull on a pair of striped pajama shorts and a loose tee shirt. You do a face scrub and some moisturising serum before finally emerging, feeling fresh and a bit sleepy. You can hear Clark below scuttling around.

You go downstairs and peer towards the darkened doorway of the kitchen. You pass it and stop just at the threshold of the front room. You find Clark laying out the cushions on the floor along with the throw blankets and pillows. The coffee table is moved aside to allow for some space as the TV glares behind him.

You give him a curious look and he flinches as he notices you. You come forward slowly as the loose hem of your shorts ripples against your thigh. You’re suddenly very aware of how much of your legs are bare. Oh well, it’s only Clark.

“What are you doing?” You ask as you cross the room.

“Oh, me and Jonny do this. I figured you weren’t into making forts but I just thought–” he stops and looks down at his handiwork, “it’s lame, isn’t it? I’m sorry. I’m just trying to make things feel normal… for both of us.”

You give an empathetic smile, “it’s nice. Really,” you look him in the eye, the bold blues gleaming back at you, “it’s sweet. And it looks cozy.”

“Great,” he lightens up as he drops the last pillow, “well,” he turns and grabs the remote, “choose something.”

You nod and take the remote. You sit on a cushion and lean back against the couch. You flick through the new additions on the main screen and choose a movie you’ve heard a lot of buzz about. You blink as the light suddenly goes out and you look over to see Clark’s shadow moving towards you. It gives you an eerie wave of deja vu as you recall the silhouette of the intruder.

You shudder and reach to put the remote up on the couch behind you. You turn back around and a large yawn erupts without warning. You rub your itchy eyes and shake your head, the edges of the television almost blurry as you try to focus on it.

“Tired?” Clark nudges you as he sits beside you.

“Didn’t sleep after… after last night,” you say.

“Ah, of course not. That was a stupid question.”

“It’s f-i-ine,” you yawn again, “really. I’m sure I will tonight. Especially with you here.”

“Really?” He breathes.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t be able to turn the lights off if I was alone,” you lean into the couch as you slouch down, “anyway, I’ll be quiet. Movie’s starting.”

He doesn’t answer as he mirrors you, plumping a pillow behind himself as he wiggles down and gazes up at the screen. Your eyelids feel heavy as you fight to keep them open. The opening scene barely ends as you feel your body slackening with fatigue. You’re barely going to make it through the credits.

You turn onto your side, leaning on your elbow as you hug a pillow under your head. You feel Clark shift too. You blink, a long blink, and when you open your eyes again, you’re lost. You have no idea what the characters are talking about.

You flutter your lashes and try to sit up. You give up as an achy weakness bites at your muscles. Oh well, if you fall asleep, you fall asleep. You can’t fight it anymore.

You close your eyes and wade in the shallow pool of exhaustion. Your head goes wobbly as you’re vaguely aware of the hues flickering and flashing from the television. A sudden warmth rests on your hip, a light sensation you can’t place.

“Are you awake?”

The question blows through you. You don’t have the strength to answer. Your eyes feel strange, dry and almost painful.

You wiggle, shaken by a strength not your own. You slip further from consciousness. You flip onto your back, dragged down until you're entirely flat on the floor. Your eyes are glued shut as you’re trapped in the dregs of sleep. You can’t break through, but you can feel the world around you.

You feel a tickle over your stomach and along your chest. A soft squeeze and a dampness blows over your throat. Heat surrounds you as something prods below your jaw, something soft brushing on your neck. A low drone swirls in your ears.

“Mmm, sweetie, you smell good,” Clark’s voice distorts as you languish in the void, “I bet you feel even better.”

Another tickle. Just along your thighs. A coolness that breezes over you as fabric ripples against you. The loose leg rumples against the crease of your leg as a stroking sensation flicks around your clit.

The electrifying currents radiate from your core. Your chest rises and falls with your rushing breaths. Your heart beats loudly, further deafening the muffled voices coming from the television and the low moan drifting into your ear. Your name plucks at you but cannot rouse you.

Wetness across your cheek then on your lips, delving inside, pressing to your tongue. A sloppy lapping, slickness around your mouth, a new weight over you. Tugging at your shirt and roughness against your tender skin. Squeezing and kneading your chest as a fire razes over your.

Your legs are pushed wide. You feel the world shift and tilt as you come near the surface. Your eyes slit and you can see shadows pulsing all around. A heavy blackness hangs over you as you feel heat against your thighs. Firm muscle holding you open.

You gasp as the wetness along your cunt eases the intrusion. Your eyelids flick up and your eyes roll as your head lolls dizzily. You fight to lift your head but can’t. It’s too much just to look around.

The single digits moves in and out of you, inching deeper each time, the ridge of knuckles grazing your walls. You moan as the hand pulls back and a second finger stretches you. In, out, the wet noise of your tight cunt nips at your shame.

It’s not a dream. It can’t be. It feels too real. Too deep. He’s touching you, he’s inside you. Mr. Kent rocks his hand against your cunt as he hangs his head next to yours and pants, his large body draped across you.

“Baby,” he purrs as your arms remain paralysed at your sides, “shhh, it’s okay. It won’t hurt…” he whispers, “the pills will help.”

You don’t understand what he’s saying or what he’s doing. No, no, you’re wrong. It has to be a dream. He wouldn’t do this. He doesn’t want you. He has a wife. He’s heartbroken over her.

The glare of the TV limns his shoulders, broad and rounded with muscles. He’s naked. The colours skew over his skin as he curls his back, dragging his fingers free of your cunt. He leaves a wet trail down your thigh.

He pushes his knees up, keeping you splayed around him. He feels along your shorts, once more delving past the loose cotton. He prods against your folds. A bulbous, thick shape that has you clenching. He lines his tip up with your entrance and leans in, just enough for you to whimper.

He slides back along your lips, slickening himself with your stolen pleasure. He rubs against you, over and over, stopping again at your entrance. He huffs and jostles you, urging his thick forearm under your neck. Your head hangs back over his arm as you groan and curl your fingers against the blankets.

“Baby, it hurts me too,” he dips his hips, forcing his tip past the tight resistance. Your voice rises, tiny, short squeaks as you feel the daze splitting with your inside. “Just a little…” he rocks back and in again, an inch at first, over and over, shaking each time. “Little more…” he sinks in further and your voice grows more steady.

Your eyes are wide and terrified as the pain assures you of reality. You tense but your body won’t obey. You can’t stop him. You can’t move!

“Little…” he repeats and thrusts deeper again, “...more,” he rolls back and in. His arm bends around your neck as he buries his face in your hair. His other hand braces your thigh, nails digging in as he keeps his motion. With each tilt, he slides in more. More and more until you’re agonizingly full.

You let out a whine, long and desperate as he reaches his limit. He keeps himself there as he whimpers and shakes. He wiggles his hips as he feels you around him.

“Oh god, I… you’re so good. Why are you so good?” He puffs and thrusts, jolting your entire body, “you… you’re so good I had to. I know…” he ruts again, “I shouldn’t… I shouldn’t…I shouldn’t…” he chants as he keeps his motion, easing back slowly only to snap back into you.

Your eyes wet and tears trickle out. It’s more than the pain, it’s the horror swelling in you, boiling but unable to flow over as you remain helpless. You close your eyes and choke on a sob as he rams into you faster, flesh clapping louder each time he dips into you.

You ache as he fucks you. On and on. It feels like forever as you strain against the futility, only able to bend and unbend your fingers. Please stop. Please get off. All you can utter are senseless garbles.

“Baby,” he growls, “I’m gonna– I can’t–” He pushes off of you in a panic, sliding halfway before he spasms and bucks, whimpering as you feel him spill into you, “shit, shit, shit,” he pants as he stills himself, “I didn’t mean to… not inside…”

Your head falls to the side, your eyes rolling back into your skull. You let the darkness win. You’re going to wake up and it’s all going to be a nightmare. Right?

#clark kent #dark clark kent #dark!clark kent #clark kent x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #au #dcu #dc #superman #to be alone with you #babysitter au

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withacapitalp · 1 year

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Because the girlies really loved my last post about Argyle (and I can't remember if I put this here or not) have some more unconditional jargyle love

“I got a job today,”

All conversation halted as over a dozens pairs of eyes turned to stare at him. Argyle gave them all a half smile and shoving some more vegetables in his mouth.

“A job?” Jonathan managed to sputter out, looking at Argyle like he was from another planet. He did that a lot, always had, so it didn't really bug him.

Argyle was fine with being weird.

“Hawkins Pizza! Gino wants me to start on Thursday, earlier if I can. They reallllllly need the help,” Argyle said with a disappointed shake of his head, taking another bite of broccoli and telling them the whole story.

He had gone in on an impulse while he was waiting to pick up Robin and Steve from work. He had just wanted a slice, maybe to pick some up for dinner tonight so Joyce didn’t have to cook, but he had walked into a waking nightmare. Half baked mushy dough, tomato sauce that tasted like it came right out of a jar, and a cheese blend that had zero stringiness.

They didn’t even have pineapple. It was a complete travesty.

The owner hadn’t appreciated his observations at first, even threatened to kick him out, but he had managed to swing the man around by offering to make him a real pizza.

Twenty five minutes later Argyle had a job offer and a super nice new boss. Turns out the dude was way chill, just overwhelmed by being one of three restaurants left standing after the earthquake. But good pizza made everyone feel better. It was one of the reasons Argyle had loved being at Surfer Boy so much.

“Y’all won’t be able to handle the sick ass pies I’m about to be slinging,” He said with a lazy shaka and a chuckle.

Everyone was still looking at him, but not with as much confusion. They all congratulated him, lowly going back to the conversations they had been having before.

Well everyone except Jonathan, but that guy was always zonked out.

“You’re staying?” Jonathan finally asked.

“As long as its still cool for me to crash on your couch, my guy,” Argyle answered. Shoot. He probably should have asked that first before taking the job, but he had just been excited to get to start making pizzas again. Being in Hawkins wasn’t anything like Cali, and he had jumped at the chance for something just a little bit familiar.

“Of course it is. Stay as long as you want,” Jonathan answered automatically, not missing a beat, “I just- I-“

Jonathan cut himself off with an irritated sigh, turning to stare down at his plate. Argyle let him have the moment, bopping his head along to the music playing in his head and happily spacing out.

Jonny needed things like this, moments where he could debate whatever was going on inside. His best friend was ‘cerebral’ as his abuela would put it- he needed time in his head to find the right thing to say.

Or he needed time to find the courage to say he wanted to say without fear. Either way, Argyle didn’t mind waiting.

“I guess I just didn’t expect you to want to stay,” Jonathan mumbled out, still keeping his eyes on his plate and not his best friend, “I mean given how insane everything is,”

It was insane. It was all insane.

Two weeks ago they had been hitting golfballs into old cars and talking about how Jonathan needed to get his shit together, and now they were sitting in the living room of an abandoned cabin halfway across the country, surrounded by people who had only taken ten days to feel like family to him.

It was insane that Jonathan’s little sister could move stuff with her mind, and there was apparently an alternate dimension full of hell beasts that were determined to break into their world and destroy everything. It was insane that he had known nothing about the guy he swore was his best friend, and it was insane that Argyle still managed to find a way to love him through all of it.

But sometimes insane was a good thing.

“Where else would I wanna be?” Argyle said instead with an easy grin, slinging an arm around Jonathan’s shoulder and leaning into his best friend’s space.

#jargyle #Jonathan byers #argyle #argyle stranger things #Jonathan and argyle #st #st 4 #argyle ficlet #jargyle ficlet #stranger things #stranger things ficlet

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marvelmusing · 1 year

Text

The Twins

Featuring William ‘Billy’ Russo & Jonathan ‘Jonny’ Russo the co-CEOs of Anvil Security

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader

Summary: You reluctantly decide to go to a work gala, only to find your boyfriend and his brother working for a client there.

My Masterlist

As soon as you step into the room, you can feel Billy’s eyes on you.

Wherever he is, Billy is always subconsciously checking who enters and exits while he’s in the room. His gaze stays on you from his position at the bar as he holds tightly onto a long forgotten drink.

His younger brother Jonathan - or Jonny as he has always insisted on you calling him - is standing beside him, looking down at his phone with a small frown on his face.

From the earpieces tucked around their ears, you know they’re both working which makes you reconsider your decision to attend this gala.

If both of them are working on the floor it means either they have a high paying client or there’s an imminent threat. Neither of those options seems like something you want to get caught up in. Just as you’re considering leaving, you see Billy say something to his brother.

Jonny lifts his head up, eyeing his brother with confusion for a brief moment before his head is turning in your direction. The sudden attention of them both makes you shiver, and you shoot a questioning look at them both.

Billy glances around quickly, doing a once over of the floor before he steps away from the bar, moving directly towards you.

The crowd parts for him easily and by the time you manage to pull your eyes from him, Jonny has disappeared from the bar and Billy is curling his fingers around your wrist, tucking your hand into the crook of his elbow.

“Billy? What’s going on?”

There’s a tension in his shoulders but he pats your hand in reassurance as you weave through the crowd towards the door.

“Jonny’s gone to get the car, he’s gonna take you home.”

“That’s not an answer.”

His voice lowers into a warning,

“Sweetheart, don’t be difficult. Not now.”

As Billy steers you towards a back entrance, you’re silent and you can see the frown of concern deepen on his face.

If there’s one thing that eats Billy up inside, it’s the silent treatment. You’d never ignore him intentionally, but right now you don’t want to risk saying something that will distract him.

When you finally step outside you see a discreet Anvil car running with a familiar figure sat at the wheel. Just as you’re turning away, Billy says your name softly.

When your facing him again he runs a hand over his hair and begins to ramble.

“Listen, I’m sorry about all of this, it’s just that I need to concentrate, and I know I can’t do that if I’m thinking about how you’re here and could get hurt.”

You nod in acknowledgement, but Billy still looks uncertain as he examines your expression.

“We alright?”

A soft smile tugs at your lips.

“Of course we are, Billy.”

He breathes out a small sigh of relief. Then the corner of his mouth lifts as he curls an arm around your waist. He tugs you closer, until you splay a hand over his chest.

“You look beautiful, by the way.”

Your smile widens.

“Thank you.”

He kisses you softly, his lips lingering over yours until he whispers,

“I better go.”

You nod.

“Be safe.”

Despite his insistence on needing to return to the gala, Billy waits until you’ve closed the car door behind you before he moves back inside.

As always, it’s strange parting from Billy only to be reunited with the same face as you sit down next to his brother.

He smiles widely in greeting.

“Hey princess.”

You smile back.

“Hey Jonny.”

He waits before your seatbelt is clicked into place before sets puts the car into gear and heads off towards Billy’s apartment. When you realise Jonny isn’t taking you to your apartment, you aren’t too surprised.

At a red light, Jonny drums his finger over the steering wheel before he glances over at you.

“I hope you’re not too mad at Will. He only wants you to be safe.”

“I know. Thanks for taking me home.”

He nods with a small smile.

When he pulls up outside Billy’s apartment building you aren’t completely surprised that he intends to walk you all the way to Billy’s front door. Even still, you can’t help but protest teasingly,

“No one’s going to jump me in the elevator.”

Jonny smirks, shaking his head.

“Will would kill me if I didn’t make sure you were back safe.”

Once you do reach Billy’s front door, you pull out your keys and unlock it, stepping inside. Jonny’s eyes scan quickly over the doorframe and the entrance hall, deeming it untouched from when Billy left this morning.

“Thanks again.”

You rest your hands on the doorknob as Jonny rocks back on the balls of his feet.

“No problem.”

“Stay safe, both of you.”

He nods, his shoulders straightening.

“Lock the door behind you, and I’ll get Will to message you when he’s heading home. I know he’d tell you not to wait up, but I also know you wouldn’t listen to him.”

A small laugh leaves your lips as you begin to close the door.

“Goodnight Jonny.”

marvelmusing Tag List: @dreamlandcreations @blanchedelioncourt @idaofinfinity @slytherheign @ellooo0ooo @vixenofcourse @dumb-fawkin-bitch

Billy Russo Tag List: @blackbirddaredevil23 @rafaelakelley @theysayitscrazy @nyx2021 @skybridgerton @dragon-of-winterfell @chickensarentcheap @stardustmorozov @sweetwritingfanficfriend @witchcraftandwit @ladyofsoa

BB Characters Tag List: @rachlovesactors @noortsshift @aikeia

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo the punisher #billy russo imagine #billy russo x female reader #billy russo x y/n #billy russo x you #billy russo drabble #billy russo edit #the punisher au

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v0id000 · 1 year

Text

Ghost owns several weighted blanket and usually brings the lighted owns on base. Soap started to asked about after some time in there relationship and ghost wasn't really sure how to answer because he just like the feeling of being pressure by the blanket after. Stressful day and that the headphones he usually wears are noise cancelling so he doesn't get to irritated by all the noise. Soap just looks at him for a few minutes and then suddenly turns around and said he forgot to do some paper work and disappears. Ghost was heavily confused but got to bed at the time he usually does.

After that incident soap started to asked question which seems odd to ghost because no one else ever seem to be asking or been asked this questions.

He also see price and soap talking to each other for longer time of periods and not just soap being scolded for blowing something up.

After several weeks soap shows up nearly bouncing of the walls at ghost room. Ghost just looks at him. Soap strated to talk in heavy accent and really fast ghost didn't understand anything.

Ghost just looked at Jonny and said "slow down mactavish and speak English"

Soap blinks and then repeat again " sooo Simon you Rember our conversation about you blanket right. So I did some digging and researching and I think you autistic"

Simon looked stunned at Jonny and just scoffs " good joke Jonny"

Soap just says " no joke Simon in serious I had some talk with price to And I know you don't like therapist and all that stuff but I think you should look into autism and how to feel more alive and better with it"

Simon just looks at soap and laught

Secretly he started to look into the topic and realised slowly he sure agree with a lot of symptoms and learning slowly how to understand himself and his emotions. He gets stim toys and starting to embrace his interest and not feeling ashamed of himself and his characteristic.

Soap also secretly support ghost and adding more stim toys to his collection and making sure to know about ghost safe foods and learning how to make his tea exactly how he likes it

#ghost call of duty #ghost mw2 #headcanon #ghostsoap #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #soapghost #ghost x soap #drabble #soap mw2 #autistic simon ghost riley

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punk-in-docs · 2 years

Text

🕷Wolf Men & Secret Heists🕷

Eddie Munson x Reader

9.2k words.

Behind closed doors and locked in shadows. Woven in between all these things, it seems a great burning crush is being harboured in the pair of your huge hearts.

“Hey.” You breathe. You almost sound nervous. You hate that you do.

In the half dark you can see Eddie’s eyes look stunning black. Big pretty tar pits that tug. His grin flicks into white.

“Hey.” He answers back.

Trying not to trip over where he stood. He’s certain you’d be able to hear the way his heart is pounding his ribs so hard, like it’s rattling against the barred window of his bones.

Or;

You and Eddie enjoy a rendezvous in a storage closet at school. Some inevitably dirty stuff happens-

Warning: There is smut in this! Fingering /sex references and all manner of dirty talk. follow the rest of the Super Freak series here-

Heels that click and clack on lino. That’s how you know your friend has arrived. She’s stomping up to your locker and to no one’s surprise- first thing she does?

She whines.

All scary padded shoulders in her bleached denim jacket glittering with rhinestones. Neon blonde hair piled up and bouncing. Plastic pink hoops rattle in her ears.

“My life stinks. I woke up with a zit on my chin. And I think I’m getting a fat ass.” Linda slumps against your locker with a scowl like her world simply must be ending.

“Good morning is the more traditional greeting.” You comment.

Side eyeing her, as you move her aside with your binder, to wrench open your locker. Actually getting some books out to do some learning.

She didn’t even bother to look pleased at the fact you were back and feeling much better- by the way. So nothing much had changed there.

Linda was still her vacuous-poison slinging self. School was the ever steady same. A crush of gossip, hormones, pooling levels of geekdom, and elitist social strata.

Your world was back to rights, so it seemed.

You rummaged in your locker for your weighty English textbooks. Linda shoved a stick of pink gum in her mouth. Shrewdly eyed you up and down as she slowly chewed. Judging you from under those periwinkle eye-shadowed lids. Long flick of mascara on her lashes. Neon pink heavily dusted on her cheekbones.

“Why do you look different?” She asks you with one raised brow. Trying to put her manicured finger on it.

“Do I?” You comment. Knowing full well you do. Maybe you allow yourself a small mercy of a half smile at that.

You’d left your hair down. Sprayed perfume on your wrists and neck again. Prettied up more than you would for school usually. Dare you say it, you’d even put on mascara this morning. Just a little indulgence.

You’d wanted to rectify the situation; the last time he saw you, would leave him the lingering memory of unshaved legs, untamed bed hair, and snoopy shorts. And you probably looked green from being sick.

You felt this outfit was a must, to clear the air. So to speak.

You’d dived submariner level deep into the back of your closet to find this dress. A simple cream button up with red flowers swirled all over. Little cute climbing roses. You wore it with just your white socks and your old sneakers.

Right day for a dress outside. It was that soupy kinda Indiana day that lingered, pressing sunshine down with stuffy mugginess.

You keep the real reason you’d prettied up very close to your chest. She’s already checking her hair in her compact. Despite the fact she probably checked it five seconds ago before climbing out Jonny’s wagon of a car.

“Laundry day?” Linda asked with a staining tone of judgement at the end of her question. Eyes on her own reflection. Not turned to you.

“Yeah.” You beam. Because it was easy to sway her. And that padded lie was far more preferable to the truth. Not that she’d bother at all.

You didn’t, couldn’t, pique her interest unless gossip or bitching was involved. You mainly leave that acidic, razor-studded ball in her court.

You missed the old Linda sometimes. That Linda.

The goof she’d been before High School and it’s noxious halls grabbed a hold of her. She used to love books. Nerdishly so. Always with the books. Wore a bright yellow camp fun time t-shirt and used to adore thrashing around your room to your Romeo Void cassettes. The way she used to chug a coke and burp afterwards cause she didn’t give a shit if it wasn’t ladylike.

Then it was like someone flipped a switch halfway through your freshman year.

Suddenly she was all about what was the right table to sit at. Worried about being visible. Started ranting about cute purses and funky tight pucci tops. The right clothes she went broke trying to buy, to stay current. Cause ew vintage clothes. What the fuck. This isn’t the 70’s anymore grandma.

She compromised instantly on who she would be. She grew up, apparently. You like to think you never did take that full compromise.

You missed the same scruffy kid as you. Joined at the hip like twins. With her mousy brunette and un-permed hair (shocking, unthinkable) the way she wore scuffed muddy kneed jeans and sneakers to school like you, and boys had been a distant and irritating spec on her radar.

The way she got more and more hung up on hot pink nail polish, hormones and chasing after scoring beer and trashy sex. How she’d rather be flipping through glossy fashion magazines and gossip columns than her actual studies.

Your friend, who she was in the before, would have been straight round to you like a shot, once upon a time if you’d been sick. Or not at school for even one class. She’d whine at you, and irritate, until you felt better.

She’d have slung her ass over to yours in an instant, burst through the door to raid your fridge. Sat criss cross applesauce on your bedroom carpet throwing flowery pillows and your teddies at you, because she was bored at school on her own. And how dare you-

Now all she wanted to do was pop pink bubbles of gum on the sidelines of her boyfriends basketball games, and natter away to preppy airhead cheerleaders, rather than put any effort into her own life.

She became the bitchy stooge you’d always sworn to hate when you were little kids. Erecting makeshift tents in your bedrooms and telling ghost stories.

No rectifying it now. She’s in way too over her permed head. Drawn to the dark side.

Her life now is lipsticks, new mini skirts, and blowjobs. And she revolves around her thug boyfriend like one of Jupiter’s moons. Heaven forfend she ever falls out of orbit.

You mourn it for a second. Looking at her inspecting her one very small zit, probing a finger to it, like its satan’s own hell spawn nesting on her face.

“I should be in fucking Notre Dame bell tower.” She grumps.

You dig in your locker some more. Shake your head with a sigh. Strong arming all your books in hand. Hunting for the one for your chemistry class that began in ten minutes. You shift stuff onto your hip.

“Paper bag over your head?” You suggest.

She scoffs at you. “Nice.” Knocks her elbow into your locker door to hit it up against you.

A shadow brushes past you. A disgusting greasy wash of assaulting Paco Rabanne stinks up the air. All spice and wood, overpowering.

You fight to roll your eyes. Her revolting boyfriend lumbered past you. All cologne and seriously no braincells.

“Baby.” She chirps all sweet. Demeanour swirling into sugary sweetness. They’re acting like they didn’t just see each other two minutes ago.

“Hey.” He gives her that lopsided too white grin.

She folds her arms out for him and he kisses her right up against the locker door. Tongue noises and mouthing, sucking making you feel suddenly like vomiting again. That wasn’t kissing. It was like he was trying to swallow her. Suck parts of her face off in slurpy chunks.

“What you doing after school tonight?” He asks close to her ear but loud enough for all to hear.

“You, probably.” She flirts. Eyeing him like he was a full steak dinner. Dragging her sharp nails down his letterman.

“Christ.” You wince in revulsion. They resume tangling and knotting their tongues.

“Can we help you?” Linda asks when they stop sucking face. Having heard your gripes. Her lips were red swollen already.

You glare, boredly. “Yes. Give me a larger sphere of personal space. Couple of hundred miles should do.”

“What’s up your ass, Picasso?” Jonny asks as he splays a hand against the locker near her shoulder. Her spit is gleaming wet on his lips. Charming.

He used that really clever arty nickname he’s assigned to you. You half wonder if it’s because he hasn’t got the mental acuity to learn your name. Or if he even bothered to know it. Probably couldn’t even spell it-

“No one as per usual.” Linda sighs in a cruel little jab.

You bite back the strong urge to kick her in the leg. You really do bite your tongue so hard it stings. You wanna shout:

Eddie Munson. That’s who, Linda. Eddie goddamn freak fucking Munson is currently so far up my ass. Matter of fact, he’s so balls deep I can feel his cock tickling in my throat. Kay?

If only you could say those words aloud. Open up your mouth and let them tumble past your teeth, unfurl from the bed of your tongue.

You could only imagine. Their faces would be pure comedy gold reacting to that news. You’d walk down these halls cackling and blast the finger at them.

Jonny pipes up to you.

“I got a buddy, Derek, whose looking for a date to the game. You’re like, kinda his type.” He offers up to you. Eyeing your chest when he remembered his buddy said something about liking big tits.

Your eyes sharpen with frost creeping in at the corners.

“I’d rather lick a filthy toilet bowl. Thank you.” You beam all sweet. Venom punctuating your smile.

“She doesn’t date jocks. Her idea of a hot date is a library group study session.” Linda explains.

Yes. That’s my idea of a blistering hot foursome, you think.

“Hey. The head librarian is a total hot fox. Maybe tonight is the night I’ll finally score.” You play around. Waggle your brows.

“Shit. You eat beaver?” Jonny asks dumbly. Laugh grazed on his voice.

You make a disgusted face. Of course that’s a sick term only a meat head jock would use.

“That would explain so much.” Linda tilts her head at you meanly. He mutters something to her and she laughs.

“Glad I can amuse.” You scathe.

They smile all bratty together, not listening to you, and then they go back to their mating ritual. She wraps her arm around his neck. Mussing those sweaty looking blonde curls of his.

They finally break apart. He’s wearing so much of her waxy pink lipstick. “I’ll swing by for you around seven- wear that pink thing I like.” He asks.

She giggles all squeaky. They kiss. Again.

You feel like you’re watching an exhibit at the zoo enclosure. Gag.

You shut your locker. You’ve heard enough. “See you in class. If you can remember to stop humping.”

They don’t even hear you. Rolling your eyes. They’d only break apart with brute force. Or if a teacher walks past and throws the safe sex advice at their backs. Telling them to disperse. This isn’t a brothel.

You start down the halls and away from hormone-and-braincell-dead central. Leaving them to it. You clutch your books and weave past people.

And you’re suddenly awfully cheered. Perked up by the sight a few locker rows down from you. Why, it’s your favourite ever metal head.

Eddie has his head shoved in his locker. Up on his tippy toes rifling through for something. Scooping his hand right to the back.

You know just from essences of his character you’d already gleaned, that his locker would be an absolute garbage tip.

Littered with trinkets and random mementos. DND dice. A pack of playing cards. A dead can of spray paint in chilli neon red. Cool pebbles or stones he’d found outside the trailer. Odd pencils and plastic figurines from cereal boxes and his Hellfire club. Loose erasers. Pencil shavings. Broken Metal cassettes.

Possibly long forgotten school text books, lost in amongst crumpled leafs of odd paper, scored with old ideas for campaigns. Old purple and red sharpies and dead ones he doesn’t use anymore but clings onto them anyway. For god knows whatever reason-

When you scoot up to his side and tap him gently on the leather shoulder. He shoots five feet in the air, like a startled firework that’s just been let off.

Bless the boy. You made him screech and jump. He jerks back and his shoulder slams into his open locker door.

He splays his ringed hand wide over his raging heart and calms when he sees it’s you. Huge puddles of muddy brown he has for eyes widened, big as saucers. Now they relax when he falls onto the shape of you.

Ceases screeching when he does see it’s you. Smile curls up the side of his mouth instead.

Cause, Holy shit, it’s you.

His voice breaks on the first word when he speaks. “Jesus fucking christ of Nazareth, Pencils.”

You flinch. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you Munson.”

He leans against his locker for support and laughs under his breath. “Holy hell. I’m not used to that. How stealthily do you move around. My god-“

His eyes fix onto yours. Eye contact that sets shimmers living inside your skin.

“I never considered myself as particularly covert.” You offer.

“Honey. Trust me. You could work for the CIA.”

You preen a little with the way he calls you honey.

“Not sure I’m entirely what they’re looking for you know.” You tilt your head and smile.

He smiles back. It’s magnetic.

Your smile just pulls things out of him. Cute sweet things like fluffy pink kittens and rose petals. He looks at you and it’s like, maybe it’s stupid as shit, but he feels like someone has finally found him.

“You didn’t die. I’m so relieved. You’re feeling better?” He asks all curious as he shuts his locker door.

Violet purple sharpie in hand. He uses the shutting of his door, as an excuse to sidle up close to your side.

You’re not going anywhere. You sought him out. Stood holding your books and talking to him and- god. This is like the fucking high school romance in some tacky movie. And he’s the lead.

You’re wearing a dress. He makes his twitchy eyes focus on your face. Because he’s so tempted to let his eyes soak and swim up and down the rest of you. And he’s trying so much not to act like a sexual slobbering deviant with you nearby.

Your hair was down. So pretty. It looked so soft. He bet it still smelled gorgeous too. Still wearing that tropical sweet bite of coconut from before. Your legs were bare and you wore your paint spattered sneakers. Sweet little red roses swirled on your dress.

“Much better actually. I had one hell of a great nurse.” You lean in an tease him a little.

“Florence.” You smile, saying it lowly.

He blushed. Dear god, how he blushed at that praise. His cheeks filled ruddy with it.

You realise you’ve caught him off guard and hooked this bizarre vulnerability out of him. Keeping him caught on his toes. Literally.

He bites his lip. “Yeah but I can’t promise I’d look good in nurses uniform, pencils.” He winced at the thought.

“I think you’d pull it off nicely.” You assume. He chuckles.

“Don’t think I have the equipment to fill it out.” He grins as he twirls the sharpie in his hand.

Nerves. Just silly infatuated nerves. He picks idly at the peeling metal stickers on his locker door with a thumb nail.

You’re stood near his locker in public, in full view of the eyes of everyone in this hallway. You’re here, you’re so cool about it. In ways he can’t be.

Stood there all cute, and there’s your perfume sneaking across to him like oranges and petals, and there’s flirting skated on your voice and your smile- holy fuck.

He didn’t think you’d want to openly come up to him in front of everyone like this. He’s so happy he’s not listening to those fetid bear traps of usual Munson anxiety littered in his head.

You want to kiss him so badly right now it’s driving you into madness. When his tongue darted out to wet his lips. You follow the movement almost hungrily. Those heaven looking lips. Now you’re feeling better, you can’t ignore it in this close vicinity.

You want Eddie.

And the look he returns back, seems like a full reciprocation on those wants.

“How’s our respective friend the dragon doing?” He asks. Otherwise he’ll just blush and stare at your lips.

He tries not to skate his eyes over your scooped neckline (he fails) He can’t help it. He’s a simple man composed of hormones and he’s dying, actually slowly crawling to a painful death, to see more of you under that dress.

“Currently wrapped around her ogre of a boyfriend.” You nudge your head over your shoulder. He peers.

“Ew. Now that’s gotta be unsanitary.” He drags his eyes down the lockers and quickly sees exactly what you meanHe puts one hand on his hip. Is very quick to focus his eyes back on you. Fuck that noise. You’re by far a prettier sight to rest his eyes on.

“They won’t need to show sex ed classes anymore. They’re one strawberry flavoured condom away from putting on a little dirty show.” You smirk. Pure horror at the notion etched on your face

Eddie smirks all wide in agreement. “And in the hallways too.” He tutts like a scandalised nun.

“Have they no shame?” He asks you in faked affronted mockery.

“Should try carpooling with her. Her hand so far up his leg it borders on a porno shoot.” You shudder.

“Your poor eyes.” He says worriedly. He does worry for them. You’d have to scrub that image away with stinging water and soap. Maybe he could help. Nurse Munson and all that-

He shoots forwards and cups the side of your head like he could pull out the foul memory by osmosis alone.

His warm hand on your head fired up so much passion in your blood. Your veins skip and pop and sing with the bliss of his touch. It’s insane.

There’s that tender eye contact again. The one that feels like the start of a wildfire in your heart. Swirls up and swells, desolated everything in it’s wake. Both bursting with things unsaid. Things you want to be done-

Undone is more like it.

You’re fully ready to admit you would like to be the one wrapped around Eddie this hallway with your horny tongues down each other’s throats. Hands crammed in back blue jean pockets. One last hickie before the class bell goes.

“Hey uhm. Do you have a free period today?” You ask him. Curious smile.

You’re shuffling things in your hands. You bring a pencil out the tucked pocket of your binder. Yellow legal pad on top of your pile.

“Mmmm. Maybe I’ve a three third. Why’s that?” He plays with you. Smiling at you with cheekiness all smug on his amused mouth.

Your smile grows to hear it. “Oh nothing big. I thought we could uh, don some rubber face masks and pull a bank job that’s all.”

He bubbles up with laughter. That straight shiny grin of his you’re head over heels for.

“Hey I call dibs on wolfman mask. Alright?”

He then howls a loud ‘Aroooooooo’ which makes the poor kid walking along next to you to stumble back into someone else, all skittish. Almost caused a pile up in the crushing throng of bodies walking past.

You both giggle about it when the poor kid can’t zoom away down the hall fast enough to get away from you.

“Another great movie by the way. I watched it so much as a kid I think Wayne thought I’d go nocturnal, sprout fur and fangs, and eat sheep on Friday nights.”

You chuckle. “Well. You know. A hobby is a hobby. He shouldn’t judge.”

“And I guess that leaves me with the choice of Clown mask or Michael Myers.” You decide. Tilting your head.

“I think you could pull it off pencils.” He flirts. “I have faith in your abilities.”

“So where we running to after this heist? I assume we’ll have to go underground. Assume new identities. Or hell. Let’s leave the country. Spend our spoils.” He narrows his eyes. Plays along.

“Ah see. I thought Tijuana.” You offer up.

He points at you. Brows raised under those bangs like he’s considering it. “I like Tequila. Let’s go for it.”

“Probably shouldn’t keep discussing it out in the open. Loose lips sink ships.” You warn.

“Honey, everyone here is not even paying the slightest attention to us. Not with Malibu Barbie and Ken putting on their National geographic reproduction special down there.”

As he turns and rants, you decide to surprise him by leaning right in and smacking a kiss right into his cheek. Up on your tiptoes to reach him. Apples and cigarettes mingled with old leather. Smoky scent of Eddie.

The look on his face: utterly priceless. Cheeks flaming red. Eyes stuck on you.

When you bite your lip still smirking and scribble on your pad of paper. Eddie thinks his heart may be about to actually fucking grind to a stop.

He needed a nurse now. Goddammit. A nurse. A cigarette. Defibrillator. A cold beer. In that order.

He thought it would be the booze or cigarettes that would get him, one day. Or the way he drives, that borders on escaped lunatic driven to maniacal suicide. But oh no.

It’s you that’s gonna get him. Gonna pump his pathetic little heart off it’s mortal coil.

Eddie, my boy. It’s always the pretty ones that will try and kill you.

He feels like his little overwhelmed heart is one large throbbing entity now ruling his entire freakin body.

Your stood so close your books almost brush into his chest where you hold them. Where you look down and scribble on your paper. You tear off the bottom of the paper and hand him the jagged slip.

“So. Maybe in your free, you can meet me. Here.” You tap the end your pencil to the paper you pressed into his hands.

He looks down at your neat loopy hand. Definitely had an artist’s slant about it. You’ve written directions on there;

Art department. Down the corridor. Closet opposite the Degas ballet rehearsal poster.

Eddies eyes flick back up to you. “Closet huh?”

He remembers with alarming alacrity what happened the last time the pair of you were in an enclosed dark space. Hands wandered and there was an insanely hot amount of making out.

He’d had that thought of you with fever hot hands on him peppered through his dreams for the last week. He may have jerked off to the memory of it a couple times. Hence why he’s just falling to pieces right here in front of you, now.

You offer a flirty look right back. Boldly you meet his gaze. “All heists should be planned in secret. And storage closets are kind of our thing now.”

“Damn. We have a thing.” He shakes his head at you. “Smooth talker.”

You blush and look down as you laugh at his crass joke. Maybe that’s exactly what you hoped.

Eddie is struggling to believe he’s the one to pull a blush out of a girl merely with his words. That’s never happened to him before. He liked the hell out of it.

“Count me in, I’ll be there.” He tucks the slip of paper in his pocket. Patting it after. Safe keeping. Breast pocket. Stuffed right close to his heart.

You nod. “Good. Because. Uh-“ You step right in and whisper those words to him. “I’ve been thinking about you a stupid unhealthy crazy amount.” You confess.

“That absolutely makes two of us.” He meets you head on in this crush.

“So I can’t be held responsible for my damages when I get you alone in the dark, again Munson.”

Eddie nearly falls over. And he’s stood leaning against a very hard, very solid stationary surface.

And he’s thought about some very very filthy shit with regards to you and darkened spaces. Things involving his bandanna tied around your eyes. Or binding your wrists. He thought about sucking and biting on your neck to hear more of those delicious yelps.

He thought about kissing you to absolute air starved death. About anything and every which way you could enjoy twisty hot n’ heavy sex, in numerous wild positions.

He swallows right now. And he really, reallyhas to fight the urge to shove his mouth onto yours, right here, and now. He wants to taste you. Slam your back to this locker and shove his tongue in the smiling cup of your mouth.

He wants under your dress. Pawing at you like a pervert. He feels like some parts of him will never recover from this. Ever.

“Goddamn pencils.” He whispers to you lowly. He almost moaned it. It shot straight to your gut. Lightning zap powerful.

Those dazzling chocolate drop eyes. He looks drunk with you. Hungry for you.

The shrill school Bell cuts into your heated atmosphere. You bite your lip and hate that you have to step back. More distance that you didn’t want or need. Fuck.

“See you there?” You step away. Voice laced with hope.

He’d tug you along there right now if he could.

“You betcha sweet lips I’ll see you there.” He grins. It’s maniacal and so sexy of him.

You join the crowds and melt into them as you walk away. Unable to resist leaving him with a smile flicked over your shoulder.

When you get back to Linda she didn’t even know you’d gone.

Eddie watches you the whole time before he had to peel his eyes away, and turn his mind to definitely less important things. Picking through crowds for you.

Mirrors on the ceiling. Pink champagne on ice. Welcome to Hotel California. Ready a room for one please-

Cause it’s sappy as fuck, he’s well aware, but he never wants to check out of or quit this feeling you leave in him. He’s scrounging for more. Always more. Hopefully come his free he can have it.

Free period better hurry it’s ass along-

Ballerinas. Where the ever living fuck were these damn ballerinas.

Eddie wanders along the arty corridors. Looking very out of place as he had done the last time. Paper scrunched in his clammy palms. Golden ticket.

When people appear walking the other way, heading for him, he ducks and squirrels it over to the nearest display. Hair whipping behind him. Wallet chain tapping his Jean thigh.

Pretends to be very seriously studying the artwork pinned to the cork boards on the walls. Graphite smudged fruit bowls. Interesting

Hands behind his back. Peering around at the people shuffling past him.

They continue on down the hall with their sketchbooks in hand. Bumping into each other and telling jokes and utterly engulfed in their conversation.

They don’t give him so much as a cursory glance. Like he’s suddenly melded as one with the walls. All the better.

He stands with his hands behind his back and leans back from his hips. Swaying to watch them walk away and stoutly ignore the lingering metal head.

When they disappear out the doors, he’s on the move before they’re even ripped out of sight. Trying to be stealthy and quick about this. He scurries along like a scampering cat. Worried a teacher is gonna catch him and then he’s gonna have to slink his sorry ass outta here.

Zips at top speed down the hallways. Nimble on his sneakered feet. Most of the classroom doors were shut. Noise happening behind them. Art classes being dictated. Creations flourishing under tip of graphite pencil scraping on paper.

The humming whirl of pottery wheels down at the end of the hall. That same smell of sticky old paint and dry clay dust. Sad pot plant table to the side again. In all its droopy unloved glory.

Posters with names of artists he’s never heard of whizz him by. His eyes pick apart every one. Blue almond branches all twisted and nutty brown. Not the one he needsthough-

“Ballerinas.” He hums to himself.

Tutus and plié’s and all that shit. Eyes speedily scanning the walls. Flicking around in the way that makes him look manic. And then-

He sees it. Inconspicuously tacked to the wall. Mouldy mustard walls on a drab background only punctuated with the milky blue light of ballet dancers. He grins as he shoves the paper back in his pocket.

His eyes flick from that poster to the door opposite. Shabby old thing. The old sign on it looked weathered. Bold printed letters that read ‘Storage.’ He bites his lower lip in a smile.

Bingo, baby.

He’s at the door like a flash. Twisting his head around shoulder to shoulder to see if there’s anyone. Hair whipping around his eager face.

He shoves that handle so hard and slips inside the closet, it’s a wonder he didn’t break the thing.

His eyes adjust to the darkness inside. There’s old drying racks. Shelves for storage. Old paint tins. Old cloth canvases. Rolled up painted scenery curtains from the canteen stage, bunched up to one side. Dusted in spiderwebs and forgotten. Some wash of blue dotted with snow from a Nativity scene. Some foggy green garden from a tenth grade Shakespeare play from long ago.

He steps forwards. Eyes fading comfortably into the darkness. And there you are.

You’d put watermelon lip smacker on. Fluffed your hair. Rubbed a little dribble of perfume at your wrists.

Biting your lip all nervous and fiddling with your skirt. Floundering on the spot at the end by a low bench table. The space seems to be crushing down on you both. The realisation you’re truly alone again comes stifling as a vice.

Behind closed doors and locked in shadows. Woven in between all these things, it seems a great burning crush is being harboured in the pair of your huge hearts.

“Hey.” You breathe. You almost sound nervous. You hate that you do.

In the half dark you can see Eddie’s eyes look stunning black. Big pretty tar pits that tug. His grin flicks into white.

“Hey.” He answers back.

Trying not to trip over where he stood. He’s certain you’d be able to hear the way his heart is pounding his ribs so hard, like it’s rattling against the barred window of his bones.

“Funny seeing you in here.” He comments. That flash of his bone dry wryness rearing its head. He picks his way through the dark to you. Hands lingering on his hips.

He sees the smirk it draws from you. Eyes glitter in the dim.

“Yeah. Often hang out in here on the off chance someone wanders in.” You shrugged. Humour laced your voice.

“Like a spider, building her clever web.” Eddie widens his eyes.

Swaggers nearer to you. Closing in. His stomach tightens in want with every step his legs eat up.

“Very metal. Very sexy.” He adds. Tilting his head and his smirk at you. He hears how that made your breath hitch.

“Guess that makes you my prey then doesn’t it?” You tease.

He’s one step away. Moving closer to you in that dancy-swirly way he does. Other people walk. You’d have to come up with a whole new word for the way Eddie Munson moves.

“Oh. Happily baby.” He drawls. He’s right in front of you.

Your breath is getting scarce. Lungs shrinking in your chest like weedy little deflated balloons.

The eye contact can only be described as the most insanely hot thing you’ve ever felt. Tugging yanking warm static bursting in your belly.

“You uh. You, look really pretty today, by the way.” He says so earnestly. Makes your heart squeeze and flip. Your cheeks are blood hot. Rushing full with it.

He gently places a comfortable hand over your hipbone. Eyes glued to yours to check this is ok. Every inch he covers he’ll always be checking that it fits safely into the parameters of your boundaries.

“Better than snoopy bed shorts?” You ask.

“I’m a fan of both. As I believe I said once, it’s not your clothes I’m looking at. It’s the girl under them.”

“That’s sweet.” You beam.

He slides fowards. Hips crushed to yours. You cup the side of his cheek. Feeling the slight push of stubble. His hands smoothed over your hips. Settled back on the dip of you there.

“Although- I’d quite like to see more of the girl under them too. Key word being, under.” He flirts boldly.

“Stop talking already and kiss me, Munson.” You laugh.

“See, your cunning plan of lying in wait worked, Ms. Black widow. You got me…”

Because even when he’s zoning in to kiss you, he still has to make noise about it. Of course. He’s like a heat lamp that never shuts up-

You shut him up indefinitely - or for who knows how long - not very long you bet - when you slant your smiling mouth across his.

Keeping him there as you smile against his mouth. Hand cupping the back of that wild haired head, the brain inside that seemingly that never stops churning.

Maybe you could make it still and calm for just a little while-

Eddie moans into your mouth and fully wraps you closer. Arms crossing over your back. Fully seating you inside the safe bands of his arms, crushed in the enclosure of his chest.

You stumble back and you pull him in with you. Arm around his neck and brushing that DIO patch. When you pull away to gasp for air, he wastes no time. Nosing at your neck to make your knees quake.

“I missed you like, an insane fucking amount, pencils.” He says inbetween mouthing at your jaw and under your ear. Kissing and sucking. Biting gently and soothing with his lips.

Your heart is slamming for attention in your hipbones. You’d let it slip from your memory how magical this boys lips are.

The night after he climbed out your window, when you woke up in the morning, alone. That hit hard. Of course you didn’t expect him to stay. But half of you wondered.

For just a second you pawed at the pillow next to you. Fingertips sinking into the worn old cotton. Still clinging with the scent of cigarettes and apples. Your chest swallowed up your heart cause- you just ached after him. Such a loud messy ball of kinetic energy that made such a pulsing groaning absence when he wasn’t there.

You wanted to just listen to him breathe down the phone to you. Spend hours and hours wasting time listening to the shuffle and shift crackle of the line and his manic laugh down the other end. Just making him break into a smile turns your whole day on it’s head. Tips you inside out and throws you round.

You can’t love him small. Or quietly. And you’ve never realised that before now. And that emotion is running into you now, headlong, like a fucking freight train.

“I missed you too.” You say. Clutching at his shoulders like you needed him to keep you rooted to this earth.

And your heart clenched cause it was so true it hurt. You’re almost in agony with it.

Sensing the neediness in your voice, he wraps you up in a kiss again. Each other’s spit skated on your lips.

It’s filthy and simply glorious.

“How much did you miss me?” He grins. All playful and toying with you even though your all wrapped up into him. Seeking quantifiable terms.

You pull his face in again and kiss him in a way you hope comes across as suitably needy answer.

This damn much, you dope.

Thumb stroking over his cheekbone. Fingertips sliding into his hair. He huffs in pleasure with the dirty way you kiss. Eyes rolling back in his head.

You’re kissing him open. Licking into his mouth. Finding his tongue with your own in a way that gets him hooked.

“Eddie.” You whine against his mouth. Almost whimper his name. Pressing it to his teeth.

Okay. His heart may actually fucking explode. Top of his head is gonna pop off like a champagne cork.

His hips roll onto you. Long slow roll. Languid smooth like bourbon. Pressing the start of a very hard erection into your belly. Stiff against his zipper.

His hands slip down your waist and he claws into the cheeks of your ass. You give him another one of those delicious sounding whines.

“Fuck.” Comes tumbling out his mouth when he realises he was grinding shamelessly into you. He shifts to pull back to say something-

“Shit-fuck- sorry, I didn’t uh mean to-”

He’s not going anywhere. Your hands yank into his lapels and then there’s this moan from you that spills into his mouth. You speak the words to his mouth. Sharing the same air. You give him a tangible direction he can follow.

“Fuck Eddie. Don’t stop.”

His knees almost give way. Thankfully, he’s got you to lean into.

“Mmm god fucking fuck, pencils the things I wanna do to you…” He mumbles. His voice dipping low and breaking with need as he grinds those hips into you once again.

“Yeah?” You smile when he ducks to hungrily suck at your neck again. “Why don’t you tell me about those things. I’d love to hear them.”

You cup his head. Let him wander all over you. Mashing your lips to his with no musicality. All hunger. But just anything anything anything for that graze of friction.

You reel him in and you’re winding your pelvis in a circle against his. He almost trembles with the pleasure of it. He groans into your lips and devours your mouth as you push your hips together.

“Filthy things. Wanna grab your tits and lick your nipples. I-oh Jesus. I wanna, hmm, finger you until you wet my whole hand, baby. Can’t get enough of you. I wanna get you off again and again.” He sighs.

His reward for his filthy wants is your hand sneaking to the front of his jeans and cupping his stiff bulge. His whole body jerks like a live wire shock.

“I want all of that.” You tell him. Matching him step for step in this desire. Your fingers spread out, cupping the whole length of him. Palming his balls too. The pain of it being through the denim is like a half sensation and to his shame it turns him on more.

“You got me thinking filthy too. I’ve dreamt about what it would be like for you to work your dick into me. Stretch me open.” Cause he feels girthy. Maybe you could have a flip side to this freak nickname. Sex freak.

“Shit.” He whines.

Closing his eyes against your neck. Ringed fingers wrapping right around your wrist. You got him almost drooling down your collarbone.

“Fuck baby, yeah. Touch me.” He murmurs desperately.

Guiding your hand to rub against his cock even harder. He almost choked when you fiddled and clunked with buckles to get his belt undone and slipped your hand inside. Stroking over the barrier of his underwear. His hips rutted to you.

You met that rhythm with winding thrusts and roll of your own hips. So damn good.

“You can touch me, too.” You tell him.

Oh god. You’re a dream. He’s dreaming. Slap him awake somebody-

And then before he can ever register fully what’s happening, you take his hand and slip it right up under your skirts.

Rest in peace to his little senseless head. His brain may aswell be melting out his ears by now.

“Damn. okay. Fuck.” He bites his lip all swirling with nerves and excitement.

He was never one to deny a lady in distress. And when you place his hand right over the crotch of your sopping hot cotton panties, he can’t quite believe his heart is still ticking. His breath shudders through his throat.

His stomach physically swoops like it’s riding a tilt-a-whirl when he scoops his fingers under the barrier of your panties and finds you so slick and hot. He runs two fingertips through plump gummy lips and his dick has never been this hard- he swears.

You gasp out when he sinks those fingers deeper.

“Sorry.” He pants. He stops. Desperate black eyes shining at you. Spit coating his raw pink lower lip. His rings must have been too cold against your pussy.

“It was a good moan.” You promise in a purr. Your nipples are skipping with electricity. So hard they fully ache for touch. His fingers felt amazing. You urge him on.

He slithers them deeper, curling up and slotting deep. Muffled his moan against your shoulder. Your hand cupping his balls. Those were pretty damn big too.

He feels drunk. Pumping his fingers into you, this feels better than any damn high he’s had.

“How do you- what do you like?” He manages to ask as he eyes the way his hand is bumping through your panties and your skirts. Rolling to your pussy in a comfortable pattern. But he needs to find out what it would take for you to cum.

That fact he’s so excitable, and yet still wanting to know what it will take for your orgasm, makes you clench down on him.

He bites his lip at the feeling of your pussy suddenly strangling his fingers. Shit that was hot.

You reach for his hand. His pressure was heavenly, but you fine tune the angle of his fingers. Sinking them deeper, getting him to curl them just a little more-

Then he finds that spot that makes a yelp fly out your mouth.

He smothers you with a smug kiss to shut you up. He does not wanna get caught by a teacher in a dark closet with his fingers halfway up your pussy.

“You wanna get us caught honey? Cause I sure as shit don’t. You got an orgasm to give me.” He grins with newfound confidence making him brave.

He slows and curls and stretched his fingers. Sloppy squelches begin to get louder and louder. You’re getting his fingers wetter and wetter. It’s addictive.

“Like that?” He asks, sloppy hot against your mouth. Tongue sticking your lower lip.

“Fuck yes.” You pant. Face screwing up into ecstasy. Brows pulling up in the middle. Mouth dropping open. Eyes rolling up.

You widen your legs and let him finger the hell out of you. And holy god it was so good.

You can feel the callused tips of his fingers decadently flicking that godforsaken spot deep in your walls.

The way his rings add an extra jolt of friction and another layer of texture against the mouth of your cunt. How you must be getting those things on his fingers so wet cause you’ve never been this sloppy or loud before.

Granted you’ve only done this to yourself a few times. You’ve achieved the main goal of course- to cum. But this is so much more pleasure somehow. His fingers are bigger and he’s taking the time to explore and learn you. It’s ridiculously sexy of him.

Your hands grab for him. Whining for more, for that extra touch that is guaranteed to get you there, you take his other hand and push his thumb into the soaking folds of your mons. Guiding him to find your clit.

When you gently swirl the pad of his thumb around it, you cry out loud again and it makes him throb in his jeans. Hips thrusting forwards to him.

His stomach clenched and knotted in want knowing he’s making you writhe in bliss on the ends of his fingers.

“Take what you need honey. So fucking pretty for me. Bet you look so pretty when you cum. Couldn’t stop thinking about that.” He kisses up your jaw. Cleverly using his thumb and two fingers to drive you insane.

He’s fully ready to admit he’s thought about you flushed and naked and sweaty in his stained bed. Maybe those wet stains would be from you.

He lived with you inside his eyelids at night, picturing you naked, as he was desperately squeezing and tugging his own cock and just trying to imagine the way you’d sigh his name and the way you’d taste on the bed of his tongue.

How it would feel to have you in your hands and knees for him in his bed. Nails on the wall scratching down his band posters. Cock buried so deep you’d hiccup sobs with it. His hands clawing your hips and ass as he slammed you down on his dick and felt you cum around him, shrieking his name like a curse, toes clenching.

Something shredding loud and filthy, A little Sabbath maybe, playing on his stereo to mask the broken sound of your cries. As he curled over your back and worked his cock into you.

“Eddie.” You whine for him. Voice a weak gaspy stutter. Spreading your legs around his hips as he stands closer. Pressing right in so he can kiss you.

“So wet for me baby. Think I’m gonna get my wish of you wetting my whole hand aren’t I?”

“Yeah- yeahyeah.” You can’t nod fast enough. Poor baby he’s got you drunk on the thrust and drag of his fingers.

He can’t help it. You’re frying his brain. He has to kiss you. Wants to swallow you while. He needs touch. Needs.

He wants your nipples grazing hard on his hot tongue. Soft tits mashed in his face. Your pussy he’s cupping in his hands. Your ass. Your lips. He fully needs every part of you cause that’s just the way he wants to love you. Love you to strangling death.

Your cries intensify. You’re close. Drawing closer.

“Oh god please say you can come over to my place one night. Please, pencils. I can’t take it if you don’t.” He mumbles against your open moaning mouth. Kissing you and shoving his tongue in your mouth.

You push yours to meet it dumbly. Nodding. You break away to gasp.

“Okay- don’t stop. When?” You manage to scrape together the braincells to ask.

“Whenever you want I don’t care, oh-shit you’re so hot.” He felt you squeeze down on him.

You’ve got him so good he’s babbling. “Whenever. Come over whenever. Stay the night. Stay the whole weekend. Stay forever-“

“Keep doing this and kissing me and I’ll never leave.” You say as you clash for a kiss again. Bodies rocking.

“I can do that.” He mumbles inbetween heavy breaths. Huge great smile on his lips.

Both Eddie’s hands working you so cleverly. You will say this for the boy, he may hate school, but he’s damn sure a quick study.

He doesn’t know what’s louder. Your moans, or the sloppy squelches he’s fucking out of you.

When you start to tremble and clap your hand over the back of his, his eyes don’t know where to land. He drinks in the way your face twists into an expression that almost looks like pain.

“Close. M’so fuckin close.” You warn him. Your voice is wounded.

“Shit. You cumming?” He checks.

Your answer is in the form of a cry. You can’t even form the words. They don’t make it out your mouth. You can only cry and shudder. The shape of his name ready to come out your mouth as you clench and clench-

Eddie mashes his mouth to yours. Hungrily kisses you though the shaking whirling torrent of your orgasm.

He drinks in your delicious whines and kisses your lips raw whilst you cum hard on his hand. His thumb slowly swirls to a stop on your clit. Wringing out every last burst of pleasure that he can. Ceases the hard thrusts of his fingers.

You did wet his hand after all. He can feel your slick coating his fingers. Some splashed down on his palm between the webs of his fingers.

He doesn’t even care that he didn’t get to finish. Watching you tumble headlong into bliss - because of him - was more than enough.

“Damn.” Eddie watches in rapt fascinated pleasure as you struggle for breath and your chest heaves.

The ends of your fingers tingling where you clutched his scratchy denim shoulders. Your head shot to little floaty scrunched stars and noisy crunching static.

“Holy f-“ Eddie cuts you off. Smears into your mouth with a kiss that takes all your remaining breath. Sucks it right out your soul. Brings his hand around your back. His soaked fingers rest against your thigh.

“Fucking drenched me.” He noses into your cheek. Kissing down your jaw. He can’t resist your neck and he doesn’t. You’re sure the burning patches of wet on your skin are some pretty decent hickies.

“Not my fault you’re a quick learner with talented fingers.” You smug into a lingering peck you place on his lips.

He wiggles them into your thighs. He really was dripping. Wetly slapping your skin. “Pure magic.” He smirks.

You sag forwards into him. Ease the strain in your burning thighs.

“I’m trying to wrap my head around the fact I just made the hottest girl ever, cum in an school storage closet.”

“Not your average Friday?” You sigh. Teasing.

He pinches your thigh for that. “Menace.” He chuckles into your neck. Holding you close. Sighing in bliss as he lays his nose into your hair and smells that coconut scent again. He’s dreamt about that too. Everything about you is delightful and he’s dozy drunk on every essence.

“So. Any plans tomorrow night?” You ask as he kindly pets your pussy one last time.

Draped your panties back to their rightful place. You bite your lip as he brushes his fingers against you through them. You were more soaked than before.

“None at all. Well, a bank heist. But that’s not til next week.” He plays.

“Your place? Scary Movies? I’ll bring pizza and beer.”

“Fine. But I’m buying the pizza baby.”

“You just made me cum. Pizza is most definitely on me.”

That draws an amazed and blushy laugh out of him. “You sure you’re real?” He checks.

“Definitely. I am no mirage.” You answer as you reach your hand around that skinny trim waist of his and cup his ass through his back pocket.

You bite your lip with glee. It makes him smile and his hips jerk into you.

“Alright. Alright. Damn. Menace. What am I getting myself into here-“ He wonders.

“I don’t know but I really like where this is heading.” You admit.

“Yeah? Me too.” He looks at you and his grin slowly climbs across his cheeks. So sweet.

You tenderly look at each other a moment and it’s like the whole rest of this world can go get fucked.

“Had you better get back out there before someone notices you’re missing?” He asks Pointing his thumb to the closet door. After fumbling with his fly and his own belt.

“Shit. Probably.” You answer glumly. Sighing as you untangle yourself and get used to your weight on your own two feet again.

Eddie smooths your skirts down. But you think it’s a cheap and yet sweet excuse to cup your ass some more. You chuckle with it and he slings your body forwards into another kiss.

Waddling you both across, joined to the door. Swaying side to side like penguins. Hands in his hair as you kiss him again. Leathered arms wrapping around your waist.

He pushes you up against the back of the closet door, kisses you so deep. It makes you smile. One more. Just one more.

“Call by around 6.” Eddie offers.

“You bet.” He pecks you so sweetly for that.

“I think you got drugs in these lips of yours you know, Pencils.” He says when he can’t pull away from making out with you. Rolls his hips into yours naughtily.

“Corny, Munson.” You smile. But you won’t pretend that compliment doesn’t make your stomach sizzle.

He scoops you away from the door and you twist to open it. His mouth sneaks to your ear. Chin resting on your shoulder.

“Tell me it’s stuck and we can stay in here for hours.” He sneaks his hands up your thighs again.

“You’re terrible.” You twist back.

He grins with lusty lidded eyes aimed your way.

“That’s not what you said five minutes ago sweetie.” He preens. Chest all puffed up with the fact he made you orgasm.

You jiggle the handle and it crunches and swings open with a creak.

“Rats. Foiled again.” He curses.

You step out into the hallway. Out the shadowed clutches of the closet. You peer around checking the coast is clear.

You creep out with Eddie a hairs breadth behind you. Chin on your shoulder. His hands comfortably on your hips again. Watching the sway of your bare legs and cute skirts.

A sudden voice to your left made you both shoot out your skin. Eddie yelped again. Leaping to pull you close but then realised that would probably be inappropriate in front of a teacher.

His hands slipped for you and then waved jerky in the air and fell away. Awkwardly fidgeting to his sides.

“Shouldn’t you both be in class?” Came the sudden and dowdy interjection.

Mrs. Clary, the ninth grade art teacher stood looking at the pair of you with suspicion through her gold rimmed glasses, linked by a shimmering chain around her neck.

She wore ankle length skirts and a brown cardigan over a beige blouse. A short sweep of a nutty brown bob streaked with silver framed her frowning face. A little frumpy in her appearance but she was a complete stick in the mud. You certainly didn’t miss any of her classes.

“Mrs Clary.” You answer her with due politeness.

She’s busy frowning at Eddie. “What are you doing here, Mr. Munson?” Her eyes narrow. Mouth pinched at the puckering corners. His rep around the school was well cemented as trouble.

“Just-“ He floundered and his head hopped around seeking for an answer.

“… came to help this lovely art student here get something out the…closet.” Is the best excuse he can come up with.

“Get what?” She presses. Looks from him to you.

You dig your nails your hand to keep from bursting into a smile. Your face is itching with the need to not laugh. You chew your lip so hard. Hoping the lie isn’t etched over your face.

“Something. Uh- really heavy. From the very top shelf.” You jump in to defend him.

“Yes. That’s better.” He shook his finger pointing at you. Then he lays on the charm real thick.

“I was wandering my merry innocent way past and I wondered if she might need help.”

He meets your eyes and how you don’t lose it, you’ve no idea.

“Mmhmm. Yep.” You agree quickly.

“Did you get what you were looking for?” Mrs Clary asks. Clearly unimpressed.

“I sure as hell did.” Eddie beams like a letch.

You snicker.

“Back to class right this second.” She warned shrilly. Barking her order.

“Yes, commander.” He bows. Saluting.

You scurry away and Eddie shares a look with you before he goes. Being shooed away like a disobedient loping stray.

An ear splitting wolf whistle echoes down the corridor. It made Mrs Clary leap into the air in fright. Clutching her chest.

You look over your shoulder, with hot cheeks and catch the sight of that maniacal grin splitting his face. You can’t help chuckling.

Mrs Clary sighs in sheer moody irritation. “That boy is nothing but trouble. Steer clear.” She snips at you.

He wiggled his fingers in a silly wave and a wink as he dances out the doors. Hair flapping behind him.

If this isn’t love then you’re an absolute fool.

🕷 It may be of interest - but there’s a next part now 🕷

#eddie x female reader #eddie munson x oc #eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x reader #stranger things season four #i would die for this man #punkwrites #super freak series #eddie munson x original character #eddie munson my beloved #eddie my boy #eddie my beloved

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notexactlyrocketscience · 1 year

Text

TMA ending reflections (and theories about the sequel!)

When I initially listened to the ending, it felt like a good plan (and the prospects of a perfect happy ending) unnecessarily jeopardised. Jon and Martin’s panicked conversation sounded so hopeless and their final decision felt impulsive. Everything was in shambles, and a good outcome was unlikely at this point. The promise of Somewhere Else seemed like an empty euphemism to make certain death more bearable. I was frustrated, and heartbroken.

Now that I've taken a few days to process and distanced myself from the characters' momentary pain, I actually truly believe that what happened at the end was a happy accident instead.

I don’t think I can put it better than the Reddit post already has—The original plan proposed by Annabelle could have had equally (if not worse) disastrous outcomes. Even if it had been canonically executed, knowing the way Jonny and Alex love to write, things would still have been shown to end ambiguously—just less tragically poetic. For the purposes of the narrative, I think they did a great job of ending the series on a climactic, fulfilling (and hopeful!) note that remains faithful to the overall tone of The Magnus Archives. Jon and Martin weren’t exactly planning on doing what they did, but it’s given them a chance at the best and happiest ending that was up for grabs.

And I love that I genuinely don’t feel like I have to be in denial of the canon at all to fully believe in this interpretation, since it was left strictly ambiguous on purpose.

But there’s more!

The Magnus Protocol teaser has a seemingly unharmed (and physically corporeal) Martin surprised to see the familiar tape recorder show up again, long after he’s assumed they’ve stopped listening. This, plus the fact that Jonny and Alex have confirmed they will appear in TMA 2, tells me:

It’s unlikely that Jonny and Alex will appear simply to voice other side-characters, even those with distorted voices. It’s clear from Q&As that they take casting very seriously. I can’t see them double-casting (former) main characters.

So we’ll see Martin again, post-escape from Eyepocalypse. Not just an old S1-to-S5-era never-seen-before Magnus Archives tape found by Alice and Sam. Including formerly unrevealed tapes from TMA would be a really nice touch (and I hope we’ll get that too!), but I’m sure Jonny wouldn’t release that particular teaser if he wasn’t solidly planning on following through in some way. Jonny has always been very serious about giving the audience breadcrumb trails with properly viable clues.

Well … what about post-Eyepocalypse Jon? Well, I think Jon is only going to appear in such a way that either fully retains the ambiguity of the TMA ending, or hints/confirms in some way that he is also alive and unharmed (in whatever avatar or semi-avatar form).

In any case, if post-Eyepocalypse Martin (and maybe Jon) do indeed appear (which seems very likely at this point), it will also be implied or shown that they are, indeed, together—in a non-tragic, romantic, bordering on wholesome way.

I say this because confirming their death or separation after the TMA finale would completely ruin the sanctity of the ending. It’s really neatly tied up and beautiful as it is right now. Answering questions to ambiguous events negatively in sequels (eg having formerly surviving main characters simply as side-characters who die in sequels) is really hard to land properly. It borders on being disrespectful of the investment the audience put into the original. Jonny has always been very receptive and sensitive to these things.

However, showing that characters from a previously ambiguous ending are living their best lives as mysterious side-characters that pop in and out—bamboozling the main characters (but delighting the audience)—is a lot easier to execute favourably. It also keeps from taking attention away from the protagonists and the main plot of the sequel.

So my expectation (read: hope) is that we’re going to see Jon and Martin in our world, where the end of TMA implied that the tapes are, and where I assume The Magnus Protocol is set! They will be happy and together (this may be explicit or implied vaguely, I am not sure how they’d keep that completely ambiguous if the post-Eyepocalypse versions of the characters themselves explicitly appear), and nothing worse than TMA finale will happen to them.

I only have this belief because I have incredible faith in Jonny and Alex as writers! I think they subverted insensitive tropes creatively and did just about everything right in TMA, and I can’t say that about most authors I love. Yes, I do generally want my blorbos to be safe and happy, but the above is not just a culmination of my wishful thinking. Jonny and Alex have already said that they certainly aren’t going to try to overshadow TMA, but I’m also hoping The Magnus Protocol will complement TMA while not really trying to step on TMA’s toes. They didn't have to drop so many JonMartin return hints (or even write JonMartin into TMA 2 at all) but they did. Super excited and optimistic for what's to come!

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emrys-rusts · 28 days

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HIHI BRAND NEW MUTIE!!!! YOU INTERACTED WITH MY POST SO I GOT MY SILLY QUESTIONS :))):

Obscure Fadom(s) you need to talk about

That song that you have a mental break down to and then kill a man to in the same day

Why are you so cool?

Something in your immediate vicinity that would look so much better if it was bedazzled

Favorite type of tit

Your favorite thing you've ever created (meme, art, writing piece, ect.)

Character you would love to kiss (romantically or platonically)

Person you want to meet so badly, alive or dead

Favorite meme ever (I would ask vine but some people don't even know what vine is)

Food you would currently devour of placed in frontof you

Favorite weather in detail

Hyper specific color appreciation

HII AND YEAH, I LOVE ANSWERING QUESTIONS AND OVERSHARING <3 makes me feel like a special little boy :]

Obscure fandoms I need to talk about:

Okay, so this is a bit difficult to answer, as I have a LOT of interests. I'd say the most obscure ones to most people would be russian classical literature, specificly the brothers karamazov by fyodor dostoevsky! I've read that book when I was 14 and it has never left my soul since. It marks an integral part of me as I continue to grow and find other interests that define me. Overall it'd be classical literature, and adding to that I'd say..sci-fi horror? Is that a genre? I just LOVE expressive gore and psychological torment, and if I apply that to anything fantasy and the 80s (which is also a recent interest-box of mine that includes a bunch if stuff I love) i guess a vibe starts to form..eldritch horrors? I guess?...BUT I think none of that is as obscure as my interest in The Mechanisms at the moment, I am being COMPLETELY sucked in, that and tma are just somehow perfect for me, and very comforting..It's tough at the moment, and they serve as good scapegoats for my anxiety, and offer comfort as well :) HUH so I think I got a bit side-tracked, other than that there is just interest in the history of human culture, including arts, linguistics, and probably the history of medicine (and just how horrificly unsafe the practise used to be). None of these are fandoms but they include a wide range of fandoms for me!

The song I have a mental breakdown to and kill a man for

OKAY SO, AGAIN, PROBABLY A LONG ANSWER-

Currently? I'd say lullaby and homesick by Dr.Carmilla - Exhumed & (Un)plugged.

https://youtu.be/lldnep2m2Bo?si=rbf2xP687lcp3HyQ

https://youtu.be/lLo0XpXU5GA?si=Xqmgk0L0dVNTsM9e

sweet sweet jonny and carmilla angst...jonny and carmilla parallels my love, I am thinking of you non stop...oh you are so drawable...

I'd also add Lost In The Cosmos Lonely by The Mechanisms!

youtube

It tugs at my heartstrings and rips open my veins, and I scream and cry into the vast void of bitter and cold nothingness. I cry everytime. The serene tone is so good and the song resonates with me deeply. I'd even go as far as to say that it is my favorite mechanisms song..

Other than that I'd add three more songs, Trees and Flowers by Strawberry Switchblade, and both Love, Me Normally and Against the Kitchen Floor by Will Wood. They connect to my soul.

Why am I so cool?

Well, I never take a proper coat with me outside especially when it's chilly. Do I have a coat that fits my style? Absolutely. Do I still want everyone to see how many belts I can put on my person? Without a question.

Something in my vicinity that would look better if bedazzled

I'd say my wall! My room has an in built second floor where my sister used to sleep before she moved to another one, and whilst the lower floor is littered with artworks and two tolkien maps and all my books, I'd like to decorate the walls up here with some posters of my favorite bands, some character shrines, you know the like :) also the washing machine needs to go

Your favorite type of tit

You evil little shrinklings already know the answer to that one. But..I shall indulge I guess..

*shakily inhales* Drumtit.

*everyone cheers*

My favorite creation

If I was Dr. Carmilla or Frankenstein I'd say a child, but as of now, it must be my two of hearts digital artwork where they kiss in all sorts of ways :) I am genuenly very proud of that one. I have some difficulty loving my art, it's probably a self worth thing haha. I also love my patched jacket, but it stinks by now and I'm scared to wash it

Character I would love to kiss

I'm ace but I do kiss romanticly when I ship them with a character I project onto

Jonny d'Ville (platonicly) (I project a LOT), Drumbot Brian (romanticly), Martin Blackwood (platonicly), jonathan sims (romanticly/platonicly), michael shelly/distortion (platonicly), gerry keay (romanticly), both gunpowder tim and tim stoker (platonicly), any of the mechs really (platonicly), not sure about carmilla yet, but a reluctant hug, pavel karamazov/smerdyakov (platonicly), any of the karamazov brothers (platonicly) I'm gonna stop here but yeah :]

Person I'd want to meet so badly (alive or dead)

Well if it comes to people I look up to then that'd include david tennant, jonny sims and ethan becker. If you read this, no you don't. But yes they inspire me greatly to keep going and do what I love doing. I'm very passionate about stories and story telling, wether delivered, written or visual :)♡

Then there are, of course, my online mutuals (@cryptile and @drdrizzey ) and some of my old discord pals over on the russian literature server! Haven't been there in a long while but a meeting would be nice!

Favorite meme/vine EVER!!

I KNOW WHAT VINE IS!! I WAS BORN IN 2006 I'M ONE OF THE LAST ONES!!

I love so many vines pls I'm having difficulty choosing, but I did make a couple of vine compilations on my youtube account (needs updating btw-)

youtube

Other than that..

Food I would currently devour

Jonny and Brian making out, water

Favorite weather (in detail)

When it's warm, not too hot and not too cold, and there is a slight breeze in the air that sometimes gets a bit stronger so that it can sweep up some leaves and branches to make that crackling sound on the asphalt I am walking on, but it's never strong enough to tussle my hair or anything. The sun isnt too bright and you can smell a far away waft of rain. You can enjoy the chill a bit when you pull of your cardigan. Not many people around. And I also love it when the sun is out but it rains slightly. Very damp but in a comfortable way :)

Specific colour appreciation

Warm colours!! Musty, dusty colours that have bits of tone sharpness within but overall present the image of a lived in eastern european apartment from the 19th century. Probably on the scale of yellow I'd say

Thank you for the asks, it was really fun♡

#asks #answer #fyodor dostoevsky #russian literature #the brothers karamazov #the mechanisms #pavel karamazov #jonny d'ville #personal post

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mlmmetalhead · 2 years

Note

HIIIII soooo good morning/evening/night idk at wich time you'll see this bUt i kinda remembered this scenes in wich jonathan is high as hell and i tought it was funny- THE POINT IS can i request a jonathan byers x male reader in wich they are both smoking and the reader accidentaly confesses his feelings towards jonathan and they end up kissing but like in a cute way- idk just them both laughing and loving each other it would be very adorable

thank uuu <3

Love you so much, it makes me sick.

Jonathan Byers x Male reader

CW: drug use (duh), brief mentions of sex, cheesy ass ‘i love you more’ banter.

A/N: I wrote down a real conversation I had with my friend when we both were drunk for the first part.

"Dude, open the window, or I'm going to fucking choke"

Jonathan got out of bed, coughing up the marijuana smoke enveloping his lungs, and reached for the window, carefully opening it. He peeked out the window and sucked in the lilac-scented air, which in the same second mingled with the sweet smell that was coming from his room. After standing at the window a little longer, he looked around. Opening the curtains, Byers shivered and sighed.

"Is that better?", he asked and, without waiting for an answer, settled back on the bed. Y/N nodded in agreement, peering into the darkness surrounding their room. On the other side of the street, sparse lights came on. The wind picked up.

"Shit, Jonny. Have you ever wondered how our existence and our existence of our world relate to each other? Well, take our motorcycles, for example. They, too, appear to give our consciousness some sort of place to retire to. To sit on a motorcycle that means nothing and means nothing about you-and to exist."

Y/N turned toward his friend, trying to focus his gaze on his face. Byers stared at him in silence for a while, then let out a weak chuckle.

"What? I don't get it. Why your motorcycle is... Like, our existence?"

"Not my motorcycle, idiot, and I don't even have one. Life.", L/N held his finger up meaningfully. Jonathan made a pensive face.

"So, does everything in the world have something to do with motorcycles?"

L/N shook his head and shrugged.

"What motorcycles, you uneducated dummy, it's a metaphor. An elementary metaphor. Elementary, though very profound."

Jonathan shook his head, "Nah, I don't get it. When did you buy a motorcycle?"

"I never bought one. A motorcycle, it's like... Speed, and in life, everybody's got... And aspiration, and it's like... Ah, fuck it, forget it."

Jonathan threw up his hands in defeat. "All right, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be rude. You seem kind of weird today."

Y/N waved his hand and turned away. "It'll be all right. I'm just tired. Gotta get some sleep."

His friend looked away. "I know what you mean. I've thought about it myself sometimes. And then, all of a sudden, you realize you can't live like that. You don't even have to fuck somebody."

"What's up with the fucking thing? Haven’t gotten lucky in a while?"

"No, it's kind of a... Metaphor... Or whatever it is you said."

Y/N laughed, leaning back on the bed. "You're such a dumbass, it's funny. I love you even more for that. Not that I didn’t love you in the first place"

Byers turned to him and made a face as serious as he could under the influence of weed. L/N furrowed his brows, trying to figure out what it was he was saying.

"Wait... What?" Jonathan leaned toward him and looked into his eyes. "What did you say?"

"What did I say...?" L/N lowered his gaze to Jonathan’s lips.

Byers blinked slowly, waving his head. His gray-brown eyes glowed and it was as if he was looking right into Y/N’s soul.

"Are you... Are you serious right now?"

There was an unease in his voice that sounded serious. Y/N suddenly relaxed and sat up on the bed.

"What did I say?" - he asked again, confused, and laughed without waiting for an answer. "I don’t understand. Maybe I said something wrong, huh? Am I going to get in trouble?"

He laughed again. An uncertain smile appeared on Jonathan's face and he laughed softly, too.

"Geez, Y/N, you're such a sweetheart..."

Byers raised his hand and ran his fingers down his friends cheek. L/N stared breathlessly at his fingers, a fire burning beneath them. And, submitting to that warmth, Y/N felt the world change. It was as if he wasn't inhaling oxygen from his lungs, but a stream of bright, fresh waves that grew stronger and stronger and suddenly carried him far from his bedroom. Him and Jonathan. The two of them together. And at that moment, Jonathan pressed their lips together, and L/N realized that what he had just felt was, in fact, the most important thing in his life. Then Jonathan embraced him and Y/N felt his body come alive, filling with new life.

"It's time. I don't want to live without you, Y/N," he whispered.

"It's the marijuana talking in you now, Johnny, or the alcohol, I don't know..."

"Maybe," Byers replied, and, wrapping his arms around his neck, drawing himself closer, “But what I do know is that today, here and now, that's all I need. Y/N, I love you. I love no one more than I love you. And I love you more than I love myself. Tell me, do you love me?"

L/N laughed and kissed him on the nose. "I said it first, of course I love you. I love you very much, Johnny. I love you so much I'm afraid I can't hold it in...I love you so much, I could just eat you."

"Don't eat me... I'm not tasty..." Jonathan smiled as he nestled in Y/N’s lap and buried his face in the others shoulder, inhaling the scent of his hair.

"You know, you're so funny when you smile, N/N..."

"And you're very funny when you laugh. I always laugh with you. It's the most beautiful thing I've ever experienced in my life."

"You don't understand, Y/N... You don't understand how good I feel with you..."

"I'm sure I'm better off with you than you are with me."

"That's not true, I love you so much more. When I look at you, my heart melts."

"Liar, I love you so much more. I really do..."

"I mean it. You're the best." Jonathan kissed Y/N’s shoulder, then his neck, then went up to his ear, and finally reached his face, attacking it with messy butterfly kisses.

“Oh, stop it!” L/N laughed trying to get Byers back with an attack of his own, before grabbing Jonathan’s head to stabilize it in one place, capturing his lips in a long, sensual french kiss. After a while, they separated for air, Jonathan placing his forehead upon Y/N’s, staring into his lovers eyes.

“I still think I love you more though.”

#x male reader #x reader #stranger things #stranger things x reader #stranger things x male reader #jonathan byers x reader #jonathan byers #jonathan byers x male reader #jonathan byers x you #male reader #gay #jonathan byers imagine #jonathan byers x y/n #🍷 mlmmetalhead

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carmillatism · 9 months

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you’ve already sort of shown the relationship brian has with religion, but i’m curious about your take on how he felt about galahad considering the whole “preacher” vibe. if we’re moving forwards with the complicated (and negative) relationship he has with religion then how does that translate to how he interacted with galahad? or was is more of a “large passing of time” thing so it wasnt as impactful?

sorry just have DBB thoughts again,,,

oh!!! i love that question a lot! thank u for asking. i was actually just thinking about this, what with my backstory fic about brian. i have many thoughts on this, so i'll set some of my basic thoughts up first and then answer the question once the context is set!

i think hnoc happens by the time carmilla is airlocked (after that second-ish but canon big one where who killed dr. carmilla comes from (i say second cause of a line jonny says in the homesick live, but that's not important here)) and tim, raph, and marius have joined. not entirely sure if this is after or before dr. carmilla comes back (what with her showing up in dr. pilchard with all nine of them), but i lean towards after (which i think this would be after she's kicked out again).

i say all this to explain the fact that i think brian has done a shit ton of healing from when he first joined, so he's definitely a lot better with not judging himself, healing from religious trauma, and working on being more assertive.

i also believe that brian doesn't actually have prophetic powers, at least not to the extent that characters like to bring up. i think he just has good pattern recognition and predicts things well (this leads into ideas of how people will blow up (lie about) people's fame in history and present time as a way of meeting their own ends. basically, i think brian has no part in these rumors, and people just spread it cause he can never escape the false accusations (i autism-code him no matter what apparently /lh)).

this all to say that brian probably found fort galfridian interesting and went down to check it out (it kind of reminded him of the settlement he stayed on in his backstory. his feelings are complicated about it). he goes down there, kind of chilling in the chaos, and then he comes across galahad and i think his first reaction when he sees galahad is "holy shit holy fuck holy-" and he just kind of spirals. cause yeah, he's doing better, but he also does remind him of one of his worst moments, so he may lose it a bit.

this could have maybe led to him being hung in the first place? he could have tried to question galahad's teachings because he worried galahad was using and lying to fort galfridian's people like the priest once did. this obviously causes unrest due to people liking galahad and not the outsider, so he's hung (this is just speculation i've sort of come up with on the spot!). when brian doesn't die from the hanging and continues to not die, the people are like "what the fuck". brian's pissed, and when he's pissed he says some ominous shit (but there is a place deep within him that does want to help the people), so they think he's a prophet and hang him by his ankle.

brian, who's like "well, this is interesting" sticks around cause it's wild, he's invested, and the mechs are a million light years away. he still doesn't trust galahad, however, galahad starts to talk with him, really about anything, a lot cause he finds brian interesting and because he feels bad for trying to kill this guy who was actually a prophet (probably thinks he's sent from god).

as he talks to brian, brian starts to have a change in judgment. he doesn't trust him all that much still, but he begins to realize that he didn't lead with an open mind and that maybe it would be okay to hear him out. he sees that galahad cares deeply about what he does and fully believes what he says to be true. brian is still weary on religion (especially organized ones) as a whole, but he does start to believe that what galahad is doing is better than he first thought. he finds company in galahad and other townspeople and really starts to care about them (and he's had a fucking headache for like a century now. wonderful).

and then the events of the album start to happen. when you're a hanged man in the center of town (idk if that's canon but it is now /lh), you hear a lot of shit: gossip, folklore, daily occurences. brian starts to catalog and connect this info he gathers (he's bored and a scientist; what more could he want?). a bigger picture starts to dawn on him, so he shares the info with the people who come to him (and who he seeks out). he wants to help galahad and tells him about the grail. he hopes that galahad will take the news well, but his reaction worries him, and he begins to regret what he said.

he hears later on about what galahad is doing and what he's saying, and he grows even more worried, seeing parallels between his past and the beliefs galahad begins to hold. brian thinks he's in too deep and tries to stop him, but that doesn't work out. he feels extremely guilty when he hears about galahad's death, and spirals a bit into blaming himself and having thoughts about his past that aren't the best. then he's in a sun for a century, and a good amount of his healing goes out the window. (but at least those lines of healing are still carved into his mind so it will be easier to find those routes and get himself back to healthy a lot faster than it did before (using a metaphor here that i heard and like with how it can be easier to heal once more if those paths of healing are there, fresh, and easy to reach. i was actually told about the opposite, which is why it's so easy to fall back into anxiety or other cycles of negative thinking)).

anyway... i am not one for brevity, apparently (no one is surprised). haven't thought this much about any of the albums before lmao (i usually focus on the mechs themselves abdknkd). but this is quite a fun concept to think about. i also like the idea that galahad is absolutely smitten with brian. it's just really fucking funny to me lmao. i also like to think that brian is just along for the ride whenever it comes ot galahad like, okay, you go you crazy guy.

also, sorry for any discrepancies between this and hnoc canon, i have not faithfully inscribed the entire album and it's info into my mind with long-lasting ink /lh.

thank you for the question, and don't worry! i love your questions and adore that you find my thoughts and writing so interesting and cool! it means the world to me. anyway, thank you again!

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madnessreruns · 1 year

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👉👈 jonny x male reader,, maybe with zome gorey murder. az a treat.

Alley Break

Jonathan Crane x Male! Reader

Note: I assumed you wanted gotham! Jonny cause you really like him but if you wanted a different version I’ll rewrite this for you <3. Also he’s kinda weird in this story. He really likes your heartbeat idk why I included that he’s just funky.

Oh this takes place in 4x16, specifically the Arkham breakout scene.

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You sat in the corner booth, the sunlight blazing in through the bars on the tightly locked window. No matter how close you were to the outside, you could never get out. It wasn’t like you weren’t used to it, you just got used to the endless white walls and iron doors that felt like they were heavier then several elephants.

You gently tapped the table, the rough texture made your nose crinkle as you imagine how it would feel to scrub it. Poor cleaners. I guess it’s better then some of the other things they have to clean.

You glanced around the room, the bars around the doors made you feel like a animal in a cage, that’s how the treated you. Everyone around you was no worth talking to, either so violent you wouldn’t come out, or they didn’t know how to speak coherently in the first place.

This got you to think, where were your friends…

You missed your buddies. None of them were around, not even a sight of one. You scrunched your eyebrows up, yes they had bad behavior sometimes, but they very rarely got into trouble for it.

As you were speaking, you could feel eyes burning into the back of your head. You ignored it, either a guard who didn’t mind his business, or an inmate who picked up interest for you and would leave eventually. But you almost jumped out of your seat when you felt a hand on your shoulder.

You whipped your head back, making eye contact with the masked man looming over your, his hunched figure still standing taller then anyone else in the room, even fully grown guards. Despite him being much younger then them.

“Jesus fuck, you scared me dude don’t do that again,” you hissed as he sat down, trying to calm your racing heartbeat as you closed your eyes, still feeling his unblinking gaze not leaving your eyes, waiting for you to open your eyes to make that unbreaking eye context he had with you. He didn’t say anything, just stared at you, his deep dark gorgeous brown eyes gazing into yours.

You let out a cough, looking away at the floor, dirt and dust covered the tiles. Dirty footprints and handprints indented the layer of grime on the ground. You glanced to the doors, to the other tables, and the inmates.

“Where’s the others?” You quietly asked, glancing back at him, he looked around the room, his gaze lingered on each of the inmates for a moment longer then it feels like he should. His bagged face shows no emotion, the blinding light from the hanging fixture illuminated each crevice of the sack.

You always wondered what he looked like under it. You had a basic idea, brown eyes, pale skin with dark circles under his eyes, skinny figure, dark brown- almost black hair that hung of his scalp. It made your cheeks warm, a involuntary smile as you thought. He always intrigued you, his quiet whisper of a voice, his quick snappy answers, his gentle actions that he did when no one was looking. You would never tell him you caught him making an origami crow once mindlessly.

You had picked up small personality traits that he had without him realizing he was showing, something as simple as sawing thank you when Jerome got him a spoon, to when he helped you up after a guard decided to fuck with you when he was having a bad day and wanted to humiliate you for his own entertainment. You always wondered why that guard never showed up again, you had a sneaking suspicion, but you’d never tell Jonathan that you knew.

“Hello?”

A soft slightly grumbly voice snapped you out of your trance, Crane staring you in the eyes. You cocked your head.

“Hm? What’s up?” You asked softly, scratching your head trying to draw attention away from your ever growing red cheeks from his deep dark eyes.

“You… we’re starring..” he said, before leaning forward completely bending over the desk, your nose practically touching yours. You could feel your body start to shake as he loomed over you.

He gently turned his head to the side, eyes not leaving yours as he stood. You chuckled, gently moving back as he just followed, practically mounting the table just to be an inch away from you.

“Something I can- uh do for you,” your voice quivered as you asked, fear surged through your veins along with the excitement of him being so close. He gently placed his hand on your shoulder, before trailing down to your chest. He pressed his hand hardly against your chest, letting out a breath you didn’t know he had been holding.

You glanced down at his right hand, it was talking the table, he was humming a beat that synchronized with his hand, and with your heartbeat. Every beat was a tap, a soft hum that left his lips as he listened and felt for a moment longer.

He stayed like that for awhile, several minutes. You glanced around, all of the other inmates minding their own business, the guards didn’t fucking care even if they noticed, it didn’t matter to you anyways, your entire world revolving around the man practically pressing up against you.

When he stopped, he pulled his hand away, shrinking back into his sleep, his hand didn’t stop tapping the table, still aligning with the beating organ in your torso even without him feeling and listening.

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Your leg bounced as your toes on your bandages foot sat on the floor. Energy built up throughout the day and was trapped in a small room. Even if you would run around in the room, the guards would get pissed for being to loud. Fucking assholes….

You bounced and twitched your body, your fingers fidgeting with your dirty blanket that sat on your bed. The walls spinning as the claustrophobia of the small space setting in on your for the night. Somehow every time you left your cell you forgot how cramped it was.

You stood up, gently jumping in your toes as you walked around your room, fiddling with the peeling paint in the wall, tapping the dirty yellow light that emitted from the ceiling light that hung from above the entrance to your cell, right in front of the door.

You tapped on the top of the toilet, you don’t think you ever even used it, it was rusty and dirty and gross. You wouldn’t doubt it if someone used if once and ended up sick.

You lay down in the middle of the floor, head heavy against the hard floor as your back pressed up against the cold tiles, without a doubt your we’re sure that you saw a cockroach crawl under your bed. Ew ew ew. You let your eyes close, the soft whirr of the fan outside your door was the only noise you could make out from the hallways. Besides from the approaching footsteps, loud boots clanking down the hall, your scoffed, a neighbor inmate probably tried to get out and ended up getting themselves stuck halfway out their window.

But their footsteps didn’t stop at any of the other doors, in fact, they stopped right in front of yours. You heard a loud banging knock, before a soft click of the lock signaled a guard was entering. You halfway sat up, to tired to pretend to care about this.

“Get back in your bunk,” the man grunted, glancing down at you.

“No….” You groaned, going back down flush against the floor.

“Yes, you will,” he grunted, lightly kicking your legs,”Don’t make me make you,”

“Whattaya gonna do? Shoot me?” You chuckled, not afraid of anything he was gonna do. He looked like he name was Steve. You don’t take people named Steve seriously.

“Don’t do this tonight, you’ve been good for the past few days, don’t ruin this,” he threatened. All these guards, empty threats and alcohol is the only thing they had in them.

“I’m sorry guard but I don’t see why I have to , get up? I’m not like- doing anything bad or anything,” your said, you felt kinda like a child whose arguing with your parent on why they shouldn’t eat candy for dinner.

“Just get in ya fucking bunk!” He raised his voice, leaning down to grab into the front of your shirt, but before he could, he stopped in his tracks.

You paused, his eyes widening. You raised an eyebrow, the way he just stood there was obviously creepy. But it turned more concerning as you glanced down, the cloth covering his stomach had turned a dark crimson, the deep red liquid began dripping down his abdomen and onto the floor, a bit of it leaking into your legs.

He collapsed to the ground, a large object perturbed out of his back, you leaned forward, before the object was pulled out by an unknown hand that had come from above.

You looked up, a familiar silent figure stood in front of you. You looked in awe, blood splatters covered his chest, his black and white striped top had been ripped to shreds, and his under shirt was soaked with blood, whether it he his own or someone else’s wasn’t exactly your concern right now.

You both looked at each other in silence, you gaped, you didn’t know if you were absolutely scared shitless that he was going to stab- spear(?) you next, or if you were to be excited to see where this was going to go. You glanced behind him, several other guards laying on the ground, bleeding out or already dead.

“Um- hello?” You awkwardly greeted him, he just blinked, you didn’t know if your his silent demeanor was scary or awkward at this point. Yes you two were friends, but at this point he was killed several people and had picked up his large stake he had murdered the others with. But he also killed the man who was trying to give you back into your bunk.

He didn’t respond, he just stood up straight, his shoulders still slumped he but he wasn’t leaning over your. The body in front your you twitched, before getting a kick to the side, which quickly put him back to sleep.

You looked back up at him, he gently leaned forward, grabbing your hand and helping you up. He still stood taller then you even when slouched and exhausted, he just looked at you, he cupped the side of your face, trailing his hand down to your neck, leaving a trail of red on your face, the smell reeked.

His hand stopped at a certain point, caressing your throat as he brought two fingers up to feel your neck, closing his eyes as two of his fingers felt into your neck. He felt your pulse, softly breathing out. Which being a you to a realization.

His mask was ripped. A large gash in the mouth area left the bottom half of his face vulnerable: You could see him, a soft jawline, pale pink lips, the tip of his nose peaking out from under the burlap material sitting onto of his face. He seemed to notice you staring, bringing his other hand up to feel his face, his cold hand resting on his cheek.

You reached your hand up, gently bringing it up to his face, you didn’t actually touch him, you just ghosted your fingers over his jaw, his breath slowed. You brought your hand closer, and closer, until your fingers almost touching him, you wanted him to know what you were about to do.

Before you could, you were ripped away from that was you as you glanced back, one of the guards got up and began stumbling towards you. He reached for his gun, you were pushed back into the room as Jon picked up his weapon again as he kicked him down, pushing it through the side of their head, a pool of blood and brains leaked out onto the floor. You stepped out, leaning down over the man, cocking your head to the side.

Before you can continue he grabbed your hand again, pulling you out of the hall.

“Wait! Where are we- where are we going?” You we’re out of breath, confused and your head was spinning.

“Leaving,” he grunted, leading you through mazes of walls and rooms.

“What the hell happened here?” You asked stepping over bodies of inmates and guards as you were led through the prison.

“Riot,” he mumbled, his voice much more clear now that his mouth was open.

He didn’t say anything else, and you didn’t either, you just silently walked. The only sounds in the empty prison was the steps of your feet and his heavy breathing.

When you exited the cold waded through the air as you both stepped down the stairs. He led you down through the gates, no guards to be seen.

“Where are the guards? Where is anybody? There are not citizens or anything?” You asked him softly, walking down the sidewalks. He didn’t say anything, he just pointed.

You glanced up, gaping. People were standing on the edges of the building, almost mindlessly, their eyes glazed over, their bodies completely stiff, in a complete straight row, not one person out of place.

“What the fuck….” You scoffed, glancing over at him, he wasn’t fazed, of course he wasn’t.

“How did this all happen?” You ask, still hand in hand with him.

“Tetch,” he mumbled, “We practiced a break out, tonight was the night,” he mumbled,

“You, the clown and the Hatter? You asked, remembering him hanging out with the other two increasingly much, you would be lying if you were to say you weren’t jealous.

“How did I not know this?” You asked, looking over at him.

He just shrugged, his eyes returning to the surface in front of him, leading you down an alley.

“I suppose you didn’t hear it,” he muttered, “That’s why I went back to get you,” he looked over at you, you could see so much more emotion on his face after his mask was cut. His lips went tight, jaw clenched as he continued to walk. “I couldn’t let you stay in there,” he looked back at you. You both stopped, the dark alley providing a cover of darkness for a quick break

You legs aches, your arms felt like they were gonna fall of. You sat on the ground of the alley as he lowered himself down with you.

You two just sat together, you looked back at him. He just stared in front of him, he was lost in his own mind. You gently reached forward, cupping his face, desiring to continue what you had left off earlier. His head snapped to you, you pulled back slightly, flinching from his sudden move.

He paused before pushing his face into your hand, allowing you to brush your hand against his soft skin on his cheeks. You gently rub his lips, before trailing your hand up to his mask, softly pulling up on the material to see his full face. He paused you, glancing around to make sure nobody else was coming, before allowing you two pull of the remains of his facial wear.

He was gorgeous

His face was soft, angular, his eyes were a warm brown, thin lips a soft pink, his cheeks were slightly puffy, but not anything that would change his face shape. He looked young, not someone you’d expect THE Scarecrow to look like. He was pretty and almost childish looking. His hair was slightly tangled, it hung of his scalp, beautiful brown locks.

“Wow….” You softly sat in awe. Before slowly leaning into his embrace, pressing your lips to his. He gently embraced you, placing his hand on your cheek, he softly kissed you, pulling away a moment before you wanted to. You smiled softly, watching as he returned it right back. You lay your head down in his shoulder, as he lay his head in top of yours.

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#cas.txt #Gotham #gotham fox #gotham tv #jonathan crane #jonathan crane x reader #gotham jonathan crane x reader #gotham Jonathan crane #gotham scarecrow #mutuals <3

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