#me: smoking my sixth cigarette

[onefunctioningbraincell]

John hated to go on a mission right after a big fight with his girlfriend. She was so young and temperamental, and to make things worse, she was also stubborn as hell. Sure, he wasn’t without fault either, but he was older and wiser, always doing his best to mentor her, teach her how to be more patient. So when he was facing radio silence on her part, he began to lose his calm little by little.

At first he only noticed the rapidly declining amount of his beloved cigars. Then he became irritated, snapping at people for no serious reason. Simon knew what was eating him. He always knew when they were fighting at home, as if he had a sixth sense for this thing. The lieutenant was sneakier than him as he always suggested bypassing his girlfriend and talking straight to her parents.

They loved John. Maybe because they were closer in age compared to her previous boyfriends, or maybe because he was in the military and they knew he would do anything to protect their daughter from harm. Either way, this trick usually worked, and as if he was a lucky charm because it was his idea, Simon had to sit there and listen to the conversation.

“I’ve been trying to reach her, but there’s nothing, she doesn’t even read my messages,” he complained to the couple. His friend gave him a thumbs up then he rolled up his balaclava to his nose before lighting a cigarette. “Have you talked to her? Is she okay?” John pressed on, trying to sound extremely worried.

In reality, he wasn’t worried. He knew she was okay because she was always okay. She was just acting like a brat, a behavioral trait that he would have to correct once he got home. He listened to her parents explain how she had just visited them the day before, and how her mother would immediately call and scold her for making him so worried about her.

“You don’t need to, I’m sure she’ll reach out eventually,” he told them, sounding as relieved as he could.

They said their goodbyes and he tossed the phone on the desk. He looked over at Simon who flashed a Cheshire Cat smile at him before saying, “Told you they would know. They always know,” he added with a laugh.

“I can’t believe this woman. Just because we get into some stupid fight over something as trivial as who will pay for our trip to Italy, she goes no contact with me,” John said before letting out an exasperated sigh and sitting down on his chair.

“What was that fight about exactly? She doesn’t wanna pay?”

A scoff left the captain’s lips. “The opposite. She received a hefty bonus at work and now she wants to pay for the trip,” he told him with a shake of his head.

But Simon only tilted his head to the side as he blew out some smoke. “What’s wrong with that?” the lieutenant asked, genuinely curious about the answer.

John shook his head. “Nothing, I know that, but she should save that money. I always tell her to be reasonable when spending it,” he replied. “I want to take care of her. Am I a bad person for this?”

“No, you’re not.” The captain opened his mouth to say thank you, but Simon was quick to raise a hand and stop him. “But you should let her treat you every now and then. She wants to do something nice for you, John. Don’t take this away from her.”

With a sigh, John picked up his phone and began to type a message in the app you used. When he put it back down, Simon raised an eyebrow in question. “I sent her a text where I admit she was right and I won’t interfere in her plan,” he informed his friend.

“I’m sure she will be very happy to read this.”

She might be happy to win this battle, but he sure as hell wasn’t about to lose the war. He just needed to put a little more effort into the process of making her his pretty little housewife. Once he was done, she would have to do nothing but stay at home and wait for him to go home to her.

Soon after Simon left the office, John’s phone beeped twice. He took a look at the screen and noticed it was a message from her. With a smile on his lips he opened it, only to find a photo of her in nothing but a set of brand new lingerie with a short sentence under it.

I bought this for you. I have something special in mind for the day you come home 🎀❤️

#john price #john price x reader #captain john price #captain john price x reader #modern warfare #mw2 #mw3 #call of duty #simon riley #simon ghost riley #ghost

[pettyprocrastination]

Taste Test

Pairing: Line Cook!Simon Riley x Line Cook!Fem!Reader

Summary: Simon is warned by his manager about the dangers of a workplace romance. You are asked for your opinion on seasoning.

Warnings: profanity and smoking.

Wordcount: 1.3k

Note: take this silly little thing as an apology for my utter lack of activity lately I'm so sorry yall! Made simon a linecook as a little joke au but now its kinda stuck in my head and not leaving lmao. Big thank you to @madhyanas @thesadvampire and @yeehaw-djarin for being my beta readers and editors for this story! I smooch you all <3

__________________

Simon had just finished plating his sixth steak of the night when the manager, Elise, a woman with twitching hands and cold eyes, pokes her head into the kitchen and barks his name. 

“My office.” 

The others snicker and bump shoulders like schoolboys, calling out a jested “fuck did you do this time, Riley?” that he doesn’t bother answering with words so much as a choice hand gesture thrown into the air before he ducks under the door frame and disappears down the hall. 

“You want to tell me what I’m getting chewed out for?” Simon rasps as he tucks his hands into the front pocket of his apron, scarred fingers curling around the carton of cigarettes tucked within it. 

Elise’s office is hardly bigger than the pantry, just large enough for a rickety desk piled with bills and a chair with a threadbare cushion that was all but pressed flat. 

“I’m not reprimanding you, Simon.” 

“Is that so?” 

“Think of what I’m about to say as-” Elise tilts her head, flashing him a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “A preventive measure.” 

Simon fishes out a lighter from his back pocket as she continues. She doesn’t have the energy to tell him to stop.

“What do you think of the new hire?” 

Truthfully, nothing.

You don’t talk much outside of work. While the other cooks are content to crack jokes and tell stories of their weekend to one another as they prepare meals, you have no such social connection to anybody within the kitchen. The only moments Simon had even heard your voice was the rushed announcement of your position behind somebody or when coming around the corner. 

“She’s fine.” He takes a slow drag of his cigarette and exhales, smoke curling from his lips as he speaks. “Does her job and doesn’t bitch like the others.”

“She’s more than fine.” Elise motions to a stapled pack of paper on her desk. 

 “Kid went to culinary school, trained under some big fucking names and even worked at some five-star joints before coming here. All her previous employers say she’s a hard worker who picks up shifts and doesn’t cause trouble.” 

She picks up the paper and points it towards the six foot four cook hunched in her doorway.

“Which is exactly why I’m telling you now that she is off-fucking-limits to you.” 

Simon bites down on his cigarette. “S’cuse me?” 

“Don’t play coy, Riley. You’re far too fucking grown to pretend you don’t know what you do.” 

He does know. Simon is more than aware of the past flings he’s had with multiple servers, none of which have ended on a positive note and all of which resulted in a souring work environment until they up and quit - leaving front of house understaffed until the next poor bastard walked through the door asking about the Help Wanted sign hung outside. 

But the blame can’t be on him entirely, that is. Each doe-eyed waitress entered a fling with the cook knowing good and well what his intentions were, because he had no issue with saying it right to their face. 

‘I’m not looking for a relationship.’ 

Simon is a blunt man. He tells people what he wants because in a world full of dragging feet and double entendres, he values efficiency and honesty above all else. 

“Listen, I’ve never stopped you from dipping your hand in the cookie jar before, but this?” She waves your resume in front of him again. “This right here? Off-limits. If you run this poor girl out and leave us understaffed for the Sunday rush I will fucking gut you myself, Simon.” 

It’s only been a week and a half since you’ve started working with them. Part of him wants to laugh at Elise’s exasperated accusation. That somehow, in the midst of chaotic shifts where several customers complain and a few bar patrons get rowdy enough for him to have to drag them out by the collar, he’d be able to find the fucking time to learn your goddamn name, let alone sweettalk his way between your legs. 

But then he remembers the muffled laugh you hid in your sleeve yesterday when listening to the dishwasher crack jokes during the lunch rush and how you tap the side of your apron in a constant rhythm when looking for something within the kitchen. Simon interrupts his own thoughts and frowns, mildly surprised about just how much he noticed of you from the corner of his eye during the daily lunch rush. Had Elise said nothing, he wouldn’t have cast a second glance in your direction. But now?

“Simon! Are you listening?” 

She may have just cursed herself. 

“Yeah-” He stamps his cigarette out on the ceramic tray on her desk, offering her a dry clip of his voice before turning on his heel. “No fucking the new cook until we find coverage, got it.” 

Simon narrowly avoids a stapler being thrown in his direction before ducking out of her office and back into the kitchen where his coworker grins at him from the sink. 

“So? She fire your dumbass yet?” 

Across the kitchen, you cut onions with a flicking wrist that never ceased movement, brows furrowed and mumbling to yourself. 

Simon hums. 

You’re quite pretty. 

“Not yet.” He rumbles. “She likes my smile too much.” 

You spare Simon a glance as he settles back into his work station next to you before you resume cutting. He notices there’s a scar on your bottom lip, a little sliver of raised skin that goes from the bottom of your chin to the swell of your lower lip. 

“Hey.” 

His voice shakes you from your focus, hands freezing as you turn to look at him, lightly craning your neck to meet his eyes. 

Simon holds out a spoon to you, the other scarred hand hovering beneath to keep it from spilling. 

“Mind giving your opinion? Can’t tell if it needs more garlic.”

There’s a moment where your brows cinch together and you look at him with caution, as if to sniff out any sort of deceit within his offer before you mumble, “Yeah, yeah, okay,” and lean forward. 

There’s no need for him to feed you. You’re a fully grown woman who could take the spoon from his hand with no issue, but Simon finds himself guiding it to your mouth and letting his other hand tuck under your chin in an affectionate gesture far too intimate for the back kitchen of a local restaurant. 

Simon is sure that Elise has cursed him too. He hadn’t given you a second glance or a spare thought since your first day. But now, he watches your eyes flutter shut as you hum at his cooking. 

“Good?” he asks. 

Your tongue darts out to catch a stray droplet of sauce on your lower lip. “Good.” Your lips purse like you have something more to say and you raise your hand, pinching your pointer finger to your thumb in a universal gesture. 

“Could use just a bit more garlic though.” 

There’s a brief moment after you speak where panic fills your eyes as Simon says nothing. Frantic thoughts fill your brain, wondering if that was some sort of test for the new hire that you had failed due to your own personal tastes until the man that towers over you nods. 

“More garlic.” He echoes. With a short nod of his head, he turns back to his station without another word. 

Simon doesn’t speak to you again for the rest of your shift yet at times during the night, where an unexpected pause takes over the kitchen for a brief but appreciated moment of silence, you feel his gaze on the back of your neck. 

When the time of the night comes to hang up your apron and slip through the backdoor, he joins you without a word. A large looming shadow walking in step with your own, unexpected but not unwelcome. He bids you a rasped “ ‘Night” before turning to his car as you unlock your own, offering him a mimic of his words before you drive home. 

You notice in the reflection of your rear view mirror that he doesn’t leave the parking lot right away. But rather chose to wait until you do to finally depart. 

#line cook simon tag #nobody look at me im rusty lmao #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x female reader #simon riley x you #ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon riley x fem reader #watch me find eight fucking typos the minute i post this lmao

[vikkirosko]

There should have been one of the 50+ requests that are in the drafts (At this rate, my thoughts about getting 100 requests in one period will come to life ...), but instead here is this oneshot. Why? Because the theory of how the first season of Hazbin Hotel will end has sad me. The last episodes of the first season will be released very soon and I'm afraid to imagine how much agnst I'll see there. Especially after the sixth episode. That's why I wrote this oneshot to release some emotion. Initially, there should have been a slightly different topic here, but what came out was what came out...

🕷 Angel Dust x male!Reader Oneshot Smoke of menthol cigarettes 💖

Angel couldn't sleep. He tossed and turned in his bed for a couple of hours, but sleep did not come to him, so he decided to leave his hotel room. When he went out into the hallway, he heard soft music. It was unexpected, because usually everyone was asleep at this time. When he went down to the first floor, he saw you. You were lying on the couch with your legs crossed and smoking a cigarette. Coming a little closer, Angel smelled menthol. It was the smell of your cigarettes, so different from the smell of those that Valentino smoked.

"Can't sleep?"

You turned your head slightly, looking at him. Angel chuckled.

"I wanted to ask you, what are you doing here so late?"

"I recently returned"

Angel grinned harder, easily throwing your legs off the couch and sitting down. You grinned and put your feet on Angel's lap, then blew smoke at the ceiling. You sat in silence for a few minutes and you were both quite comfortable, but you broke that silence.

"Have you ever thought about what you're going to do in Heaven?"

Angel chuckled.

"Do you think it's possible?"

"I'm talking in theory"

Angel thought about it and looked down. He knew exactly why he wanted to go to Heaven. His sister was there, the person closest to him. It was for her sake that he was ready to change. But lately, he had been increasingly tormented by thoughts of what he would leave behind. Here in Hell, his life was far from a dream, but there were good moments in it. For example, Cherri and their friendship. Or Charlie and her care. Or you. Angel didn't talk to you about it, but he had feelings for you. You, with your calm smile and the smell of menthol, you who were willing to take risks to help him. Angel liked you. The thought of him leaving and you staying here in Hell made his heart ache.

"I don't know, but what about you?"

Your lips stretched into a grin.

"I don't think I'm going to Heaven at all"

Angel looked at you with an uncomprehending look, which did not escape you. Your grin widened.

"I can hardly smoke in Heaven, and I'll go crazy without my cigarettes"

You laughed at your own joke. Angel looked at you and said something that made you wonder.

"Let's go to Heaven together"

You fell silent, looking at him in surprise, and then smiled a soft, sincere smile.

"Well, it won't be so boring there together"

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #Hazbin Hotel Oneshots #Angel Dust #Angel Dust x Reader

[unclewaynemunson]

'Back off, man, I can do it alone.'

'No you can't.'

Granted, Max couldn't see shit anymore, but she could definitely feel how Eddie was looking at her – how he was winning their staring contest simply because her withering glare didn't exist anymore.

'Look, I don't want you in there with me, period,' she said, trying to sound more in control than she was feeling. She felt her cheeks burn and she hated it.

'Why not?'

She sighed, wishing she could still roll her eyes. 'Jesus, Eddie, do I really need to spell this out for you? It's one thing that my mom has to help me with literally everything, but there's no way I'm gonna let you.'

'Max.' She hated how Eddie's voice had gone soft all of a sudden. 'What are you afraid of?'

She merely scoffed in response; she still felt her cheeks burn. She didn't want to be here, didn't want to have this conversation, didn't want to think about how fucking vulnerable she felt. All she wanted was to go to the goddamn bathroom, was even that too much to ask?

'It's no different for me than for your mom, you know,' Eddie said. Max wished she could see his face, because something in his voice was different than usual but she didn't know what exactly it was.

'You know that's not true,' she said, her jaw clenched.

'No, it is.' She could hear how he took a deep breath. 'I'm gay. So, um... I can promise you it won't be weird.'

'Oh.' She didn't quite know what to do, taken aback by the vulnerability of those words. He didn't need to share this; he only did it to make her feel comfortable. He just handed her this big secret, trusting that she'd react in the right way, that she'd help him keep it, that she wouldn't want to hurt him. It was almost too much responsibility; she didn't really know what to say. She wasn't good with comforting or kind or reassuring words like Lucas.

'Does anyone else know?' she asked.

'My uh... My uncle.'

The scent of smoke made its way into Max's nose and she grimaced, but didn't tell him off; if any moment was a good one to have a cigarette, this one would probably be it, she supposed.

She still wondered what Lucas would say in this moment, but kept coming up empty.

'Okay, you can help me in the bathroom,' she finally decided, shifting back into a more practical mindset.

'Soooo...' Eddie dragged out the word. 'Are you - are we - okay?'

'Yeah, of course.' She should probably thank him for trusting her and tell him that he was her friend and she would always love him no matter who he loved or some sentimental bullshit like that, but she felt too awkward about it so she went for silence instead.

While Eddie helped her into the shower and washed her – at least as far as possible with all her casts – her mind kept running. It wasn't as awkward as she had expected it to be, to have Eddie undress her and touch her skin and even help her on the toilet. He was surprisingly gentle and kept checking in to make sure she was feeling okay, and he even made some lame jokes to try and keep things light. It made her think that this could be what it's like to have an older brother. It made her think of Billy.

'Billy would've hated you,' she finally broke the silence when she was dressed in fresh pajamas and lying with her head against the sink, Eddie's hands massaging shampoo in her hair.

She felt his hands freeze against her scalp.

'He always used to call people fags and pervs and... you know. And he'd beat people up for it. Sometimes I wondered...' She paused, hesitating. 'If he was, like, compensating for something.'

'Compensating?'

'Yeah, you know... If you go around calling enough people queers, no one will expect you to be one, right?'

Eddie hummed. 'I didn't know your brother very well,' he told her. 'Some people say that the queers have this instinct, like a sixth sense, to recognize each other, but I think that's bullshit. Or well, not entirely, sometimes you do get like a vibe from someone – but in the end, you can't just know someone's truth like that. And some people will bury that truth deep, deep down. And we can hardly blame them for that. It can be easier to pretend, you know – it's definitely safer. This world wasn't made for being different in that way. For being different in a lot of ways, actually. Whatever his demons were, whatever war was going on inside of him, I think Billy knew that very well.' He turned on the tap and started rinsing her hair.

'I'm sorry you can't get your answers,' he added when he turned the water back off again.

She sighed in response and let Eddie help her in an upright sitting position. She could feel how he started brushing her hair, carefully, as if she'd break into pieces from just the tiniest touch.

She realized that Eddie was right: there was no way to know what wars exactly took place in Billy's mind. The only thing she did know is that he had been a terrible brother to her - but that, despite that, she still wished it would've been different.

Billy wasn't here anymore; he was buried in the ground and his body was slowly falling apart, eaten by worms. But Eddie was here.

Eddie had constantly been at her side when they were both in the hospital, and now that she had come home, he still was. He checked in on her every afternoon; he cooked for her and her mom; he told her stories to entertain her and tried his best to make her smile whenever she was feeling frustrated by the limits of her body. He listened to her when she wanted to talk, and he kept her company when she didn't. He looked out for her and even trusted her with his secrets. He was more of a brother to her than Billy had ever been. He was right here - and she had all the time in the world to ask him all the questions she never got to ask Billy.

'Have you ever kissed a guy?'

She heard Eddie chuckle softly. 'I have.'

'Have you ever had a boyfriend?'

'Have not.'

'Why not?'

And he answered everything she asked him, all while softly stroking her brush through her hair. And when her mom came home, they drank tea together on the couch, and it strangely felt like they were a proper family.

#don't mind me rambling about stranger things #max mayfield #eddie munson #he's her brother alright #stranger things #fruity ficlet

[megumimania]

AOT LONDON BOY HCS PT 2

featuring: reiner, onyankopon, armin

a/n: this is part two of these hcs, part one is here! thanks for tuning in its kinda rushed my bad 😪, likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

ARMIN

-armin would be from islington or finchley maybe even south, but I don’t see him living in like bougie areas such as kensington or chelsea or like richmond

- him and eren went to the same primary and secondary together

-armin was literally his get out of jail free card because of his stellar reputation in academics

-he always gets free stuff from the corner shop or the chicken and chip shop

-doesn’t own a car, he either bikes or takes the tube because he cares about the environment and doesn’t want to add onto the extra pollution in london

-his dress sense is very casual like a t shirt, a pair of loose fitted trousers and some trainers but when he cant be bothered he’ll wear a tech fleece

-he has a very good sense of direction, like he knows the fastest routes for anything, like when eren and connie dragged him to carni (if you went this year im saur jealous 😩 but anyways) and it was time to get home armin found a quicker route that got them back pretty fast

-knows all the best secret spots in london for anything! which makes hanging out with him more fun because you experience a new part of london when you’re together

-he isnt a fan of eren’s scamming ways but when eren asks for help he always answers as long as he’s not a part of it

-london men i feel like are terrible with their feelings but armin is the exception, he would be very open with you about his feelings and such

-reads so much, you’ll catch him at hyde park or greenwich park reading till the sun sets

-he smokes cigarettes but he’s trying to cut it out for you

-his playlist would be very diverse since he’s been brought up in a multicultural area, like it would go from bashment, to rnb, drill to pop

-unlike his unserious counterparts *cough cough* eren and connie, he’s very loyal!

ONYANKOPON

-my ghanaian king, shoutout to my ghanaians!!

-he speaks twi so well that people forget he was brought up in the uk

-he would be from peckham or lewisham for suree, he’s deffo been dragged around by his mum round rye lane market on a saturday morning carrying that trolley with him

-he goes to a pentecostal church, he’s always leading youth service and helping out at church events.

-the aunties love him for this because he’s the perfect son that they don’t have and they just love him in general

-ony can cook and im being for real, so you guys never eat out unless ony wants to show you to a new niche restaurant somewhere

-he has snap but doesn’t have a bitmoji because he thinks it’s immature 😕 but eventually he caves and makes one because you ask him too

-hes always promoting his boys stuff whether that be music,

-he deffo went to an all boys secondary and then he went to a mixed sixth form after, he gives me those vibes

-he used to go to the library to link girls after school 😭 he had a big playboy phase but hes calmed down

-he used to be one of those people at stratford westfield trying to sell you magazines before you enter

-hes not stingy with his money, hes always spoiling the people he loves

-he has a bunch of caps and grills that he likes to rotate out weekly, he has great style

-he works in corporate london so its rare that you dont see him outside of a suit and tie but he always makes time for you

-ony is always holding your bag for dear life when you go to bait areas like oxford street or westfields or like the tourist spots because people be getting their shit stolen loool

-he loves late night tesco trips anything that he can do at night i.e late night walks, drives etc

-bossman is always giving him discounts on stuff because ony is loyal customer.

REINER

-look at that man and tell me he wouldnt be from essex tell me!! like thats pure dagenham material right there

-if you search up a typical person from essex, he would come up

-he probably owns those skintight chinos with those ugly polos with the church shoes

-he tries to downplay his accent a bit since sometimes its hard to understand him but when hes upset his accent comes through in full force

-always at spoons or at the club till early hours

-reiner gives me bricklayer vibes so thats what im gonna roll with

-when he comes home from work in summer hes like hot and sweaty but it makes his biceps glow so its kinda sexy idk

-has a bunch of tattoos, most of them are birthdays of family members and a picture of his grandma who passed away

-has a british bulldog called belle, the dog is fucking scary but reiner thinks the world of her and thinks she can do no wrong

-listens to mainly dnb, garage, techno

-downs pints at the pub like it’s nothing, he has a high alcohol tolerance

-proper geezer that’s all i have to say tbh!

#aot x reader #armin x reader #onyankopon x reader #attack on titan #aot fluff #aot headcanons #vina writes #aot reiner #aot x black!reader #black writblr #aot x black reader #armin attack on titan #armin arlert x reader #aot onyankopon #reiner braun #aot

[littlemissvincentvega]

Hii could u write a part 2 to the morning wood hopper fic? Maybe hopper accidentally bumps into the reader at a bar and he takes her home and Yk… 😏

MORNING WOOD pt. 2 / a perv!hopper one shot

PART 1

a/n: OMG i finally wrote something and it is the part 2!!! i'm going to do part 3 soon (might start writing it tonight) it will most likely be the finale of this little miniseries thing with hopper. but i had so much fun writing this and i hope y'all enjoy ♥ also also i'm in the process of setting up the tumblr tips thing bc i am Poor and somebody asked me about it aaaages ago :) thanks @nonsensecynical for the request and the inspiration for doing the part 2!!

18+ explicit content / perv! jim hopper x fem!reader

cw: alcohol, smoking, sexual themes, general perviness

Wisps of smoke left his nose like an angry bull. He tapped the cigarette on the edge of the ashtray in front of him, watching as the ash fell into it. It had started out clean and empty, but since Jim arrived a small pile of cigarette butts had accumulated there. He nursed his (sixth? seventh?) drink, focused on the melting ice cubes that swirled around the glass.

"Need a drinking partner?"

Hopper looked up from the bar, his eyes widening a little when he saw it was you. Of course it was. He'd jacked off to the thought of you that very morning, so why the hell wouldn't he have to deal with speaking to you as if he hadn't just mentally fucked you into next week? "What?"

You snickered slightly and shifted to sit beside him at the bar. Unbeknownst to Jim, you were already a couple of drinks in, which was why you were so calm about approaching him. You'd considered this a few times before after seeing him drink his problems away, but today was the day you grew a pair, for some reason. "Are you having another drink?"

"Probably," came his mumbled response. He looked at you, "Why?"

You pretended not to notice his gaze drop briefly to your breasts and gave him a coy smile. "I'll get your next one. You look like you need a drinking partner. You're always in here by yourself."

"(y/n), I couldn't ask you to do that," Jim said, sitting up to look at you properly. Why was a young, beautiful thing like you bothering to speak to him? He arched his brows. "By myself--? That's by choice, not because I don't have friends, you know."

"You didn't ask me, I offered. I'm buying the Chief of Police a drink. Least I can do for you doing your duty," you grinned, ignoring his further comments. He closed his eyes in annoyance, sighed through his nose and begrudgingly agreed.

-

"Let me give you a ride home," Hopper told you an hour or so later, sliding the empty glasses toward the barkeep. "Least I can do after you bought me a single drink."

You grinned upon seeing a smile twitch on his usually stoic face, then slid on your coat. "I didn't tell you to pay for my other drinks. I just... let you do it. It's fine, I'll drive myself home."

"No, no-- not happening." He was already ushering you out, a large hand hovering near your lower back. The bitterly cold air of the evening woke you up slightly, and you grimaced at the change in temperature. "I'll hafta arrest you for drink-driving. Wouldn't want that."

Being slightly merry, you bit your lip into a smile of mischief and eyed him. "Would that involve you putting me in handcuffs?"

That kinky little shit. I knew it. Hopper stared at you for a few moments, then continued to whisk you to his truck. "Yes."

Jim helped you into the passenger side of the truck, closed the door for you and then made his way to the driver's seat. He cleared his throat and glanced your way. You had slid your coat down your shoulders just a little to allow the cold air around your breasts. And yes, he could see your nipples trying to poke through the fabric of your shirt. Dark gaze lingered on them for a moment before he cleared his throat again and switched on the engine. "Thanks, uh, for keepin' me company tonight," he mumbled.

"Oh-- don't mention it. It's nice to not drink by myself for once."

"You there a lot?" he queried, taking a look behind before reversing out of the parking spot.

"Mm, sometimes," you hummed, popping the cap off of your lipstick and topping it up in the mirror. Hopper wished you wouldn't do that. It was making his mind go to places, places it had been that same morning. Making him think about how beautiful you'd look with those beautiful plump lips wrapped around his cock, pumping and sucking...

And then you broke his trance with a question. "Should you even be driving?"

"What?"

You returned the lid to your lipstick and put it in your handbag. "You're technically drink-driving, Chief."

God. Stop calling me that. He glanced your way, a gentle smirk tugging at his lips. "What'd you just call me?"

Brows arched, you stared at him and tried to ignore the pulsing between your thighs. After a short pause, you answered him, albeit a little quieter. "Chief."

"Exactly. I'm the Chief of Police, I can do what I want." And what I want is to fuck your brains out.

You simply rolled your eyes and chuckled a little, opting to look out of the window. Jim took that opportunity to steal a few glances at your body, the way your skirt perfectly hugged your hips, how the low-cut top showed off your delicious breasts. How he'd like to grab them, knead them, suckle on your perfect little nipples. He swallowed thickly, making an attempt to ignore his twitching cock. No, not twitching-- it was throbbing.

When you turned to look for any packs of cigarettes Jim had laying around his car, it wasn't difficult to see what he was trying to hide. It only made your core ache more for him, and from what you could see, he was big. You diverted your gaze from it quickly, locating the cigarettes, and sparked up. The first exhale definitely helped to calm you down, but it was barely a distraction from how sopping wet you felt.

The rest of the ride was quiet, almost awkward considering how you were both feeling (unbeknownst to each other), but Hopper broke the silence when he pulled into the trailer park. "Which number are you again?" he mumbled. He knew the number.

"Right there." You pointed at your trailer, which was painted light blue (a DIY job Eddie Munson had helped you with, much to Steve's dismay).

Hopper pulled up at the side of your home, hands resting in his lap to conceal what was going on down there. A small smile was given to you. "Home sweet home."

You noticed that he didn't turn off the engine, which was a slightly disheartening, but your horny little brain had other plans. One hand rested on the door handle and you looked across to him, eyebrows raised. "Aren't you gonna walk me to my door?"

Oh, God, why? He looked mildly annoyed, staring at you silently for a moment. "The free ride home not enough?"

"Nope." You flashed him a grin.

Rolling his eyes, Jim switched off the engine and exited the car. In his mind, he was hoping his erection had subsided a little, but he knew full well it wasn't going away until he took care of it. All he had to do was pray you didn't notice. "Alright," he helped you down from the truck, savouring every moment his hands touched your body, "five more steps and you're home safe."

"Huh, chivalry isn't dead, after all," you joked, walking with him to your porch. You fumbled to grab your keys and began to unlock the door.

"Sure," he cracked a small smile again. You were sweet-- he found you to have a decent sense of humour, too. "Uh, thanks again for keepin' me company."

You removed the key and opened the door, looking up at him. "You're welcome. Do you want to come inside for a bit?"

For a moment, Jim's eyes widened and he fell silent. He looked inside, then back to you. "No, I should get goin'. Got stuff to do."

"What stuff?" You held his gaze, subtly ran your tongue along your upper lip.

"Y'know-- laundry. Got some, uh, dirty dishes--"

But he was cut off. Your hand, much smaller than his, had found the outline of his erection, and you were gently rubbing it through his work-slacks. "What else?" you breathed, watching the poor man try to catch his breath.

He swallowed thickly, all too aware of how heavy he was breathing. Gaze dropped to watch your hand, then slowly rose to capture all of the beauty your body held. His eyes finally met yours again. "Gotta take a shower... maybe it can wait..." Without warning, he pushed you inside and slammed the door behind you both, shoving you against the nearest wall. It made the framed photos there shake, but Hopper didn't care. You squealed with surprise-- his cock rubbed against you as his lips met yours, all hunger and pent-up frustration and passion. He groaned against your lips, only pulling away after a few seconds to catch his breath and look at you. Yes, it was clear. You both wanted the same thing.

-

PART 3 COMING SOON!

#hopper #chief hopper x reader #jim hopper x reader #chief jim hopper #jim hopper #jim hopper fanfic #hopper fanfic #hopper smut #chief hopper smut #hopper x you

[training4theapocalypse]

a fine wee lass, a bonnie wee lass ch.1

John ‘Soap’ MacTavish x Fem Reader

Rating: Explicit - 18+ only

Word Count: 2k

Warnings / Tags: Smut, infidelity, size difference, references to previous underage romance (when they were both teens).

Summary: You're the bridesmaid at your brother’s wedding and his best man, John MacTavish is back in town. You just hope he doesn't remember when you last saw him, when you tried with all your might to stop him from joining the army.

A/N: I've not played COD since like 2012 but I keep seeing clips of Soap on TikTok and my wee Scottish heart just fancies the pants off him. This is inspired by a Scottish folk song called 'Bonnie Wee Jeannie McCall'. The dialogue is written in Scots - I hope you can follow along.

ALSO I just found out about @glitterypirateduck’s challenge by a happy accident the day after I wrote this and this fits nicely into:

Prompt 28: They don't need to know

Masterlist (there’s no other COD stuff here sorry)

Chapter 1: The first night I met her she was awfy, awfy shy

You pull your shawl around you as you stand outside the old castle. Rain lashes down across the sprawling Falkirk countryside while revellers laugh from the wedding inside. The music hasn’t started yet - you think that you’re safe to have a breather before you need to go inside for the first dance. 

You stand as close to the wall as you can, taking cover from the rain. Your pink satin shoes are getting soaked. Not that it matters. The shoes your brother’s new wife chose for her bridesmaids are so ugly it’s unlikely you’d have worn them again anyway. But she’ll be fuming when she sees the state of them.

The door to the castle opens behind you and you move over, dodging a puddle to let the newcomer seek the shelter of the castle wall too.

“Awryt, darlin?” asks a voice and you look up from the puddle at your feet to see John MacTavish, your brother’s best man, pulling out a packet of cigarettes from his jacket pocket. “I didnae think you smoked.”

“I don’t,” you say, putting your vape to your lips and raising your eyebrows once.

He pulls a sour face. “Them? They’re fulla chemicals and like, mercury, and that.”

“Oh aye? What’s in these? Vitamins?” you ask, flicking the pack of cigarettes in his hand with a forefinger. “You didnae smoke afore joinin’ the army.”

“Aye, well, I was sixteen when you last saw me. And you were, whit, twelve?”

“Fifteen, John.”

There’s only a year between you and your big brother, Tam. But the way he and John treated you, you’d have thought there was a decade between you. Acting like you were an annoying wee tag-along. You just wanted to be included from time to time.

But that was ten years ago. Last time you saw John, he was just a boy, and you, just a lass. But now he’s older, with a scar on his chin that’s only highlighted by his coarse, dark stubble. The scar cuts across the hair there like white lightning. He’s taller, and broader than when you last saw him and his hair is shaved much shorter and neater than the teenage John you remember.

“Aw, aye. I mind now. You and your pals had wangled your way intae the sixth-year leavers’ gaff. As usual.”

“Did I? Any excuse for a drink back then, I s’pose.”

“Aye, but I remember ‘cause I wis leavin’ in a few days for the army. And you were -” He cuts himself off suddenly.

“I was whit?” a smile cracks across your face, waiting to hear his description of how you looked that night. Beautiful? Stunning? Mesmerising? You see yourself as you had been - your hair perfectly straightened, your Oh Polly bandage dress hugging your form in all the right places. In your memory, you were the embodiment of a siren. You had dolled up that night to impress the older boys. Or, if you were honest, one particular older boy.

“Well, I mean,” he says putting a cigarette between his lips and flicking his lighter. The orange glow briefly illuminates his face, casting shadows that seem to momentarily harden his features, making you remember he’s no longer a boy of sixteen but a man of twenty-six. “You were absolutely gantin’ for it.”

Your mouth falls open and you hit his arm. 

Mortifying. 

“Whit? Fae you? Aye, right !” you say, sarcastically but your face flushes bright red, immediately giving you away. You might have been drunk but John MacTavish rejecting your drunken advances as a teenager was probably the defining moment of your formative years. 

As your words, brushing off his teasing, hang in the air, the jolt of embarrassment reminds you of a different party.

On that fateful night, ten years ago, the music was much louder. The floor was littered with empty cans and bottles and you’d ‘accidentally on purpose’ bumped into John in the hallway before pulling him into someone’s parents’ bedroom. You’d recklessly thrown your arms around him.

“Woah, woah, woah. What you daen?” he’d whispered in a panic.

“Please, Johnny,” you’d slurred drunkenly. “I dunno when I’ll see you again. Somethin’ tae remember me by.”

You had leaned in to kiss him but he turned his head. You were so drunk you didn’t care. You sucked on his neck, feeling that dark stubble under your sloppy tongue as your hand found his cock in his jeans.

But he’d stopped you in your tracks. Pinned your arms to the side. He was stronger than you, even as a teenager.

“Naw, look, I cannae,” he had said. And even though your eyes could barely focus on his, you could tell he was annoyed at you. But you didn’t care. You just wanted him so badly. 

“Aw, come on, John. Please? I’ll show you my tits,” you had said. “I’ll - I’ll go the full way. I’ll do anythin’. Just - just don’t leave, awryt?”

The sound of cheers from the reception hall cuts through your memory and snaps you back to your current, rainy surroundings.

“Aye, well, I was probably just dreamin’,” says present-day John. “It probably never happened.” 

It’s considerate of him, to pretend that it never happened.

But no matter how hard you try to pretend, there’s no denying that you made a fool of yourself, plain and simple. 

Sometimes late at night when you can’t sleep, the memory makes you cringe as you replay that embarrassing moment. You try and cut yourself some slack, remind yourself that you were just a desperate, heartbroken teenager who’d drunk half a bottle of vodka working up the courage to make the move she’d always thought about. Begging John not to join the army. Begging John to fuck her. 

He had declined both requests.

But that doesn’t matter because you’re a fully grown woman now. One that hasn’t spent more than a second thinking about John MacTavish coming home for her brother’s wedding. No, sir. Not one second. Definitely not.

You exhale a laugh like it’s a funny memory. “Maybe it did happen. I cannae really remember, I must have been steamin’ drunk,” you say. But you know what happened. He knows what happened. And he knows you know. 

John's response comes with a delay, his chuckle soft and tinged with a hint of meaningful self-deprecation, to try and frame some of the embarrassment back onto himself. “You must’ve been steamin' to have tried it on wae the likes of me. You were always far too good for me,” he laughs, but this time his smile doesn’t quite reach those bright blue eyes. 

There’s a long silence as you say nothing. With a deliberate motion, you bring the vape to your lips, inhaling deeply, the action grounding you back to the here and now as the artificial kiwi-passionfruit-guava fills your lungs with something that you know must be bad for them. As you exhale, your gaze drifts down to your soaked shoes, the pink satin darkened by the rain. They’ve changed beyond recognition.

“Woah,” he coughs his own puff of smoke. “Now just whit is that ?” asks John, his eyes clocking your left hand.

You tilt your hand subtly, letting the diamond catch the cloudy daylight. “Did Tam no mention it?” The words linger between you, almost casual. “I’m engaged, John.”

For a moment, John just stares at your hand, his face unreadable. Then, a low whistle escapes him, a mix of surprise and something unspoken. He glances up at you, his eyes searching yours for the answer to a question that he doesn’t voice. “Engaged, eh? Tam never said a word.” His gaze shifts away, a frown creasing his forehead. “Where’s the lucky man the night?”

“He’s offshore the now - he works on the rigs.”

“Christ, I’ll say,” says John, taking your hand and examining your ring. “He’d need tae be workin’ in oil for a big rock like this wan.”

Your hand feels small in his. His thick brows soften from a frown when he pulls his gaze up from your engagement ring to meet your eyes. His eyes are blue and full of a warmth that you wouldn’t expect from someone who, from Tam’s account, is a hardened soldier. 

Your heart thuds in your chest when you realise that he’s been holding your hand for too long. But you don’t retract it.

“Aww the best tae the happy couple, then,” he says softly. “I suppose Tam never telt me ‘cause he had a lot to be dealing wae his own wedding and that.” John lets go of your hand. “Dae you no miss your fella, wae him being offshore?”

“Four weeks on, two weeks off. I see him plenty… More than your missus sees you, I expect. How often d’you come home? Once or twice a year?”

“I’ve no got a missus so I don’t need tae worry about that.”

The raucous laughter from inside the wedding venue dies down suddenly. And you hear the master of ceremonies announcing the entrance of the bride and groom.

“Gads,” says John, stubbing out his half-finished cigarette. 

“If we miss the first dance, we’re fucked,” you say. “I’ll never hear the fuckin’ end of it.”

You try to carefully step over the puddle - John takes your arm and holds on to you so you don’t fall. He opens the oak door for you but as you’re about to pass, he grips you tighter, stopping your movement. 

“Listen, darlin’, there are some things that are just off-limits,” he says, his voice a low, gravelly whisper in your ear as he leans close. He smells like cigarettes - normally that smell would turn your stomach but there’s something sweet in his aftershave, like vanilla, that makes the tobacco smell musky and warm. 

“Meanin’?” You look up at him, confused.

“The last time I saw you,” he murmurs. “You were mad wae it. I couldnae, in good conscience, take you up on that offer when you were that drunk. And you’re my best pal’s wee sister tae boot. I couldnae dae that tae Tam.”

“John, that was - that was a long time ago. It was nothin’.”

“And now,” he continues. “Now you’re engaged. Which means you’re even more off-limits.”

Off-limits?  

He’s talking like you’re in that bedroom again, begging for his attention. Except you’re not. You’re not begging for John again. He’s just assuming that you’re about to.

That presumptuous bastard. 

“You’ve got some fuckin’ nerve, John MacTavish. Who are you tae try and let me down gently? It’s been ten years and I’m no even slightly interested in you anymore.”

“Naw, I know,” he says, refusing to match your volume or tone of indignation. “I’m just tellin’ you out loud why I won’t be trying it on with the most beautiful lassie in the room. And why I said no back then, as well.”

“Haul! You two!” You and John spring apart to see your tiny, furious wee auntie storming down the hallway. “You’re missing your brother’s first dance with his new wife and you’re both supposed to be on the dancefloor.” 

“We - we are?” you stammer.

“Aye, did you no hear the emcee telling the wedding party to join the bride and groom? That means bridesmaids and groomsmen, ya pair of glaikit idiots. Your maw’s fuckin’ ragin’”

And with that, John lets the door behind you swing shut and you both leg it past your auntie to the reception room, with you leaving wet footprints in your wake as you go. The music from the room swells into clarity as you burst through the doors and skid inelegantly onto the dancefloor. 

Your brother and his wife are too absorbed in their own happiness to have noticed your late entry and you breathe a sigh of relief. But it’s short-lived. You immediately stiffen again when John takes your waist and you realise that he’s your dance partner.

As the two of you begin swaying to the music, your mind races. You’re no longer that sad, rejected teenager, yet here, in John's reassuring grasp, you feel the ghost of her stirring. His gaze is careful, and guarded, but there's still that question in his eyes that he’s forbidden to ask.

And behind your own eyes, you can’t help the stream of curses going off inside your head. 

You curse your nerves for being the reason you got so drunk at that party. 

You curse John for being Tam’s best man.

But most of all, you curse yourself as you watch your left hand rest on John’s shoulder as you dance, the giant diamond ring glittering like a heavy disco ball. 

#scotland forever #soap x reader #john soap mactavish #task force 141 #smut #soap cod #soap mw2 #john mactavish x reader #burns night #cod fic #cod mw2 #cod fanfic #soapitup

[l-starlight-l]

The love of a hero

Smoke signals

Masterlist

A/N: so I was reading some of my old post and low-key hated how it was written so I decide to rewrite the whole love of a hero series. Hopefully it’s a little better now!

Description: it’s your first day of work at Arkham asylum and you share a smoke break with a handsome hero

Warning: smoking, cursing, mental hospital

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

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:Reference:

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Being one of the most successful Psychiatrists in the country you hadn’t planned on getting fired from your dream job. You had been working at black-gate prison for three years and in one day it all went down the drain. You needed a new scene away from all of the shit that happened so you had decided Gotham was the perfect city to move to and there just so happened to be an open position at Arkham Asylum. You had a good feeling about your new life as soon as you made it off the train. You had friends in the city and it seemed like a place that needed a good fixing up, which was your specialty.

The only condition of the asylum hiring you with your strange record, was you had to start immediately. Which meant as soon as you got into Gotham you were racing to get to the creepy building on the outskirts of the city. When you got there you could tell they were in deep need of staff. A kind older lady met me in the lobby and introduced herself as the head doctor, she gave you a tour of the facility and a list of patients that were yours. The list was very long, it had about sixteen names on it, and you had never had this many patients. You made it your goal of the day to at least introduce yourself to each one of the patients. As you scanned the list some very popular names were on it like, Harvey dent or Pamela Isley. One name in particular caught your eye, Harleen Quinzel, you had known her before she became what she is now. You had went to school together and ended up getting pretty close. You pushed her to the end of the list so you could prepare yourself to see her again after everything that she’s been through.

You had just finished your sixth session of the day with “the scarecrow” and it had shaken you up a little so you thought a brake would help. You looked around for a quiet place where you could get some fresh air. Luckily when you walked out a pair of doors at the back of the building there was a small bench and no one to be seen. You let out a sigh of relief and plopped down on the bench. You rustled for something in your pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. It was a bad habit you had picked up while at black gate but you were cutting down. You only smoked when you were stressed, which seemed to be happening more and more often. Patting your pocket you find nothing, “are you fucking kidding me” slips from your lips as you realize you don’t have a lighter.

You leaned back and close your eyes trying to find some relief before going back to work. There’s soft footsteps that land right in front of you. You lift open one of your eyes and see a very large man in-front of you. You look up at him, he’s wearing a big red helmet. You think for a second, there were a lot of vigilantes in Gotham but which one was this. “Red hood?” You quietly asked confused.

“What are you doing here” he asked but not in an aggressive tone, it was more of a confused tone. He didn’t put right answer you question but you took it as a yes.

“I should be asking you that” you say with a tinge of annoyance in your words, “you’re the big masked man who came out of no where”

You can’t actually tell through the mask but his body language makes it seem like he’s embarrassed. He reaches for his head and takes his helmet off revealing a very handsome face clad in a black domino mask. “Sorry I was just surprised, no one is usually over here” he says softly ruffling His bad helmet hair.

You nod like you agree with him even though you have no idea. You hold up the cigarette in your hand and ask “you got a light”.

He nods and takes out a cigarette of his own, putting it in his mouth and holding the light to it. You get up and touch the tips of the cigarettes together in the flame so they light simultaneously. When you sit down and look back up at him you can see his face is a little flustered. Maybe that was a weird thing to do to a stranger. “So are you a new doctor here?” He asks clearing the awkwardness from his voice.

You nod taking a drag off the cigarette and blowing it out, “it’s my first day” you say with a laugh. You eyes wonder up and down him as you wonder, “and you? Are you one of the “bat-boys” that run around Gotham” you ask doing air quotes with your fingers.

He chuckles, a deep sound that makes your ears hum. A smile grows on your face as you watch him. “I suppose you could call me that. You don’t look like you’re from Gotham?” He questions taking you in.

“I’m not” you say bringing your knees to your chest on the bench and taking another hit of the cigarette, “I just moved to the city, well not yet, after my shift I get to move into my new apartment” you admit.

He smiles and opens his mouth like he’s about to ask something else but his phone rings. He pulls it out of his pocket, he reluctantly steps away to answer it. You can tell he is annoyed with the person on the other side. You watch him with a smile on your lips, you caught yourself being a creep and take another drag and look away. He finishes up on the phone and walks back over, putting out his smoke. “See you around doc” he says with a warm smile and disappears into the shadows. His smile stays with you even when he’s gone, it felt so warm and genuine. You let out the breath you were holding and finish your cigarette. You stand up from the bench and dust yourself off, you need to see him again you decide. You walk back into the building regretting the next few consults you have.

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Word count: 1,029 >~<

Tag list: @princessbl0ss0m @mxtokko @atadoddinnit

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#jason todd #red hood #batfam #dc comics #jason todd fluff #fanfic #jasontoddx #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x gender neutral reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #jason todd x reader #jason todd fanfiction #dc universe #dc fanfic #red hood x gender neutral reader #red hood x fem!reader #red hood x you #red hood fanfiction #red hood fluff #red hood fic #red hood dc #romance

[buckets-and-trees]

Buck's Eleven

Title: Buck's Eleven Fandom: MCU Characters/Pairings: Bucky and Steve with mentions of Bucky x ex!wife Reader Word Count: 1.6k

Summary: Going into a job this big, you have to take the house or know the house will hunt you down and swallow you into its belly. Vegas is unforgiving. Good thing they're the best at what they do.

Content/Concept Warnings: Thief/Con Artist AU, smoking, 1960s elements, references to sexual acts

Notes: CONQUERING FOUR EVENTS/CHALLENGES, which is my crowning moment this summer:

@buckybarnesevents WEEK FIVE of Hot Bucky Summer: "When I First Met You..."

Sixth square of @buckybarnesbingo U4: "AU: Historical"Playing Games"

Featuring Lemonade and a Road trip for @the-slumberparty's June Challenge

AND MY FOURTH AND FINAL SQUARE for Connect4 Alternate June-iverse: C4 "Thief/Con Artist" (and including an Alpine sighting so I can collect my TOE BEANS)

This is an MCU homage to Ocean's Eleven drawing direct inspiration from the 1960 and 2001 films. The 2001 has been one of my favorite heist movies since it came out, and I had never seen the 1960s original until this week, but once I started watching it, my jaw dropped with excitement over how ripe it was to adapt for a Bucky (and Steve) AU because in the original, it's 15 years after WWII and the crew is a reassembled group of guys who were in the army together!

I borrowed some dialogue beats directly from the 2001 film, and those are in bold italics.

Story graphic by me, story dividers by @firefly-graphics, reblog graphic by @vase-of-lilies

Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

“Good morning.”

“Good morning.” Bucky takes a seat in the chair across from the penitentiary’s release board and settles his hands casually in his lap.

The man in the center taps his cigarette in the ash tray before returning it to his lips. “Please state your name for the record.”

“James Buchanan Barnes.”

“Thank you. Mr. Barnes, you’re meeting with this board today to answer a few questions so we can determine whether or not you intend to break the law again.”

Bucky nods. Contrition. Congeniality. A touch of charisma, but nothing too memorable. That’s what he must serve up.

“This is your first conviction, but you have been implicated in a long list of other cases for confidence schemes and frauds. Is this a fair and accurate record?”

Bucky glances at the doll off to the side at a small table of her own, clicking away impressively at a typewriter.

“I expect your records to be nothing but accurate, though – as you said – I’ve been implicated but never charged.”

“Mr. Barnes, what we’re trying to find out is: was there a reason you committed this crime, or was there simply a reason you got caught this time?”

“My wife left me. I was upset. I fell into a self-destructive pattern.”

Exactly what he knows they would like to hear.

“If released, is it likely you would fall into a similar pattern?”

Bucky cocks his head almost imperceptibly. “She already left me once; I don’t think she’d do it again just for kicks.”

“Fellas, you know I’d do almost anything for ya, but not… not this,” Banner looks between them, rubbing the back of his neck.

Steve smiles warmly, the smile he knows tricks his friends and his marks into whatever he needs. “Why waste all the little tricks that the army taught us just because it’s sort of peaceful now?”

The din of the night club around them – games of cards, dames performing on stage, drinks being served up all around – gives them all the privacy they need to hold a sensitive conversation around the table, just the three of them.

“We’re trained men,” Bucky adds.

“I know. I know you are, and we always did good work.”

“Better with you on the crew, you keep us careful.”

“You remember a little operation called Stacks back on the Sokovian front?” Steve asks.

“Do I! Eleven of us in and out under the cloaking of the trees at night with more Axis piles of cash than was decent for either side to have stockpiled away.”

“We should have buried it,” Bucky says.

“Speaking of money, you’re going to need an enormous amount of backing to pull this off in Vegas. The city’s not a sleepy little town tucked away near the mountains and off the grid of the main occupation, it’s got a million neon lights glowing on it every night.”

“Fury, easy.”

“None of us are gonna be as easy as you think. You’ll need the best electrician around, and Tony’s out.”

“Got religion?” Bucky asks.

“Naw, he and Pepper have got a kid now.”

Bucky looks to Steve, but he seems unconcerned. “Morgan – she’s cute.” Steve looks back to Banner. “I think he’ll do it.”

Banner shakes his head, but grins. “Pepper’s already unhappy he’s back in the game on the fluffy jobs, but if you think you can convince him… You get Fury and you get Tony, I’ll play ball with you.”

“You can’t do it. It’s impossible. I made it impossible. I invented casino security. When I first met you boys, you were bright young cocky upstarts. Now you’re bright and cocky – and just lucky that most of the time you’re not too cocky. Now I like you boys, but it can’t be done.”

“You know what? You’re probably right.”

“Eyes were too big for our stomachs.”

“You would know better than anyone.”

“Sure, sure. I just don’t want to see you boys behind bars, especially since you’re fresh out, Barnes.”

“Well, we appreciate the lemonade all the same,” Steve says, setting down his now empty glass.

“It’s hand pressed every morning down at the river market.”

“And thank you for taking care of Alpine while I was away,” Bucky scratches the the head of his white cat, who hasn’t stopped purring since being reunited. He scoops her up to his chest, and he and Steve stand to leave.

“It was good to see you, Nick,” Steve says.

“Give Maria your addresses on the way out, she’s got me a good source on Cuban cigars, I’ll send each of you a box.”

Bucky nods. “That’s sure nice of you.”

They turn and start to walk across the terrace toward the patio doors.

Fury looks after them. He sighs. “Tell me the marks.”

They slowly turn back, appearing to casually answer, but knowing this will bring him in.

“The… Sahara–“

“–Sahara, the Riviera, and the Dunes,” Bucky finishes.

“Hold on.” Fury stands. “Those are Pierce’s places. What do you two got against Pierce?”

“Pierce is the king on top of the mountain right now, nothing more than that.”

“I still owe him for how he got me with Project Insight,” Steve adds, “but I could get him back some other way. The golden opportunity to knock over his casinos on the fight night of the year, Thor vs. Starlord in a few weeks? That’s just destiny giving me the gift to make it sweeter that it’ll be his money.”

“And, Rogers, you’re okay with this knowing full well who the dame rumored to be attached to his son’s arm?”

“Yep,” Steve says without hesitation. “It’s not about her. Pierce is the king on the top of the mountain right now, we just want to topple him over. I still owe him for Project Insight. Besides, Buck’s not stupid enough to make this about a dame who divorced him, and like you said it’s only a rumor that she’s his doll.”

Fury turns his stare to Bucky. He shrugs. “She’s made it pretty clear with the divorce papers.”

He studies him for a moment, then seems satisfied.

“And you’re just going to go on your little road trip across the country recruiting your team?”

“Who doesn’t love a summer road trip?” Bucky asks, a full grin on his face.

“Sam’s already in Sin City, picked out a nice house for us to set up and lay low in Henderson.”

“Henderson’s nice and sleepy. Banner will be there by the end of the week, and we just came from seeing Tony.”

“You should swing through Salt Lake City, look in on the Maximov Twins, they’re pulling off some impressive stuff among the locals there.”

“I’ll put them on the list.”

Steve leans up against the side of the convertible while Bucky starts to pump the gas.

“Sam’s not eager about the kid.”

“I know he’s not,” Bucky smirks. “But he’s our grease man. There’s a reason they’re calling him the Spider Boy Wonder now. Besides, he was a kid before I went in, it’s been four years, he’s not a kid anymore.”

“He’s impressive.”

Steve lets silence fall for a beat.

“Tell me it’s not about her. Tell me you are not stupid enough to make this about her.”

Frankly Bucky is shocked and impressed that it took Steve thirty minutes to press him about you now that he knows.

“It’s not about her, it’s about five million cool a piece.”

Steve looks dubious. “Because when we say ‘till the end of the line…’”

“It’s not about her, she just happens to be there, but I’m not ignoring that fact – we’re just going to use it to our advantage because she’ll be a blind spot for him.”

“Because she was a blind spot for you?”

“No, she was never that.” She was fireworks, electricity, what kept him sharp when he was on his game, before he got caught and sulked behind bars.

Steve sighs and his face softens. “I know. Just promise me we don’t do anything stupid.”

"No, nothing stupid. Too much riding on this. Heist of our lives."

As they pulled out onto the street, car aimed for the interstate, Bucky wouldn't spend the duration of the road trip thinking about you, but you would cross his mind frequently, as you always had.

With the miles ahead of them, the memories of you could distract him in peace. Thoughts of when he first met you. Thoughts of sneaking into rooftop parties and pools at places like Fury’s like you two had done when you were both too broke to get in any other way. Thoughts of his hand disappearing under your skirt and up to tease the delicious heat between your thighs. Thoughts of your head falling back and exposing your throat to him. Thoughts of your head falling forward to rest against his. Thoughts of you gasping beneath him as he thrust inside you. Thoughts of you wrapped up in his arms, leaning against his chest as you watched the sun set on your little balcony of that third-floor apartment in the city. Thoughts of the soft mornings and late nights in the bed you had shared together until you didn’t. Thoughts he fights both to hold onto and forget.

But you were unforgettable. You were his. You had to be his again. He's waited for just the right angle to set you in his sights again, and he knows he can get you as sure as he knows they will walk away with over fifty million and without a trace.

Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

#bucky barnes au #navy and roo's sleepover #buckybarnesbingo2023 #bbb2023 #hotbuckysummer2023 #alternate juneiverse 2023 #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes and steve rogers #oceans eleven au #bucky barnes x reader x steve rogers #alpine the cat #aspen wrote something #connect4au #female reader

[stray-cat-21]

Kissed just to be kissed💋

Summary: The (cheerleader) reader finds out Eddie hasn’t been kissed just for the sake of kissing. Lots of kisses follow.

An: thinking about making this a series of blurbs/fics about Eddie and a popular cheerleader reader. Not in any particular order just random thoughts and ideas like the bat Eddie series. Asks accepted same as the bar series lol. This also is longer than I intended

“That doesn’t count Eddie!”

“Why the fuck not she had her tongue down my throat that counts to me!”

“Because you were making out not kissing! When was the last time someone kissed you just to kiss you?”

“Um somewhere around never?”

“What?!”

“Princess I’m a freak. Girls aren’t exactly lining up.”

“Well what about your first kiss?”

“Uh sixth grade this girl Tammy got dared to kiss me. Got me to meet her at swings and right after we kissed she started laughing and half the cheer squad jumped out and laughed with her.”

“Oh Eds I’m so sorry that’s terrible.”

“Not really a big deal. Guys like me don’t get just kissed. We get made out with in dirty bar bathrooms to say you fucked a guitarist.”

Eddie had just shrugged it off returning his attention back to the popcorn and bad movie.

(Y/n) however could not just let it go. Even after the movie was finished and Eddie was driving her back home she couldn’t get his words out of her head.

Guys like Eddie especially deserved to be ‘just kissed’. Even if she wasn’t entirely sure guys like Eddie Munson existed. It seemed more likely he was basically a one time deal then the mold was clearly broken.

“Hey Eds will you meet me at the park tomorrow by the old swing set?”

The question Startles Eddie a bit. The drive had been far too quiet in comparison to the others. For the most part he had been worried about whether or not he had said something that could have upset her due to the silence.

Of course in his mind the conversation about kissing was long forgotten so he was just completely confused at the request.

“Gotta play date I don’t know about princess?”

“No goofball it’s a surprise will you meet me, please?

Eddie eyed her for a moment trying to get any sign of her intentions but was left just as confused.

“Of course I’ll meet you.”

“Perfect! I’ll see ya tomorrow at six handsome!”

Eddie watched just as confused as she practically skipped all the way to her front door. He was completely perplexed. The two probably would have hung out the next day anyways but what could they possibly have to do at a playground at night.

Eddie arrives at the park first, fallen leaves crunching under his sneakers as he makes his way to the swing set

It’s the playground by the trailers on the ‘other side of the tracks’.

Only the kids from the park seem to hang out here if they have to but most make the ride to the nicer one

On chilly nights late into the fall season it remains empty.

He takes a seat lighting up a cigarette while he waits

The rusty metal chains creak under his weight

He only manages to take three anxious puffs before (Y/n) is coming up.

He’s surprised to see her dressed in her cheer uniform

“Hey princess gotta new routine you wanna practice?”

It seems to be the easiest guess she’s practiced in front of him before when she was extra nervous

After all why else would she be wearing the uniform to a playground in 60 degree weather.

“Nope that’s not why I’m here Eds.”

Eddie puts out his cigarette blowing the smoke away.

“Okay you wanna elaborate or?”

“I’m here to give you a proper kiss.”

Eddie stunned rendered speechless which is a hard accomplishment that (Y/n) manages to do quite often

“W-what?”

“Remember our conversation yesterday? Well I say we give your first kiss another go. For real this time, the kind you deserved the first time.”

Eddie’s mouth flounders open and close a couple times trying to form some sort of response.

Any witty response, flirtatious joke, or sentimental remark is lost on his tongue.

His mouth is suddenly completely dry.

“You wanna kiss me?”

She hums in response nodding her head with an eager smile.

If you had told him during the summer that in his third go at senior year he’d be offered to kiss a cheerleader he would have laughed maybe even gagged.

But this was really happening.

“Sweetheart really it’s okay I don’t mind. It was a a long time ago.”

“I know Eds but that shouldn’t have been your first kiss. It’s not right. So now you get to kiss a cheerleader at the swings for real. No laughing this time I swear. You can check the bushes if you’d like.”

They both share a laugh at this easing the light tension.

“I didn’t bring any gum gonna taste like cigarettes.”

“That’s okay I don’t mind Eds.”

Eddie takes a deep breath soothing his palms over his denim covered thighs.

“Alright princess how are we gonna do this?”

“Just close your eyes.”

Eddie does as told shutting his eyes.

(Y/n) slowly moved into the space between his legs.

Eddie’s heart is pounding in his chest.

He can feel her tuck some of his rampant curls behind his ear

Goosebumps cover his skin even under his jacket.

Before either can change their mind she’s pressing her lips against his

Eddie subconsciously takes in a sharp inhale at the contact

(Y/n) had chosen a much more subtle cherry flavored chapstick over her usual lip gloss.

Their lips move together a little clumsily but it creates the perfect spark regardless

She lets out a content sigh leaning just a bit further while Eddie’s hands are carefully holding her waist.

(Y/n) let’s Eddie be the one to pull away all though if it had been an option he would have stayed their for the rest of his life.

When his eyes open (Y/n)’s smiling brightly at him waiting for his reaction

“Definitely never been kissed like that before.”

“We should definitely do that more often.”

“I mean not that I’m saying no but really?”

“You said guys like you don’t just ‘get kissed’ well I disagree I think you deserve to be kissed often and by someone who knows how. I’d like to be that someone if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t think friends are supposed to kiss princess.”

“Who says? I’m okay with it if you are?”

“Alright yeah I’d like that.”

He half expected her to forget about it or that it was a one and done kind of deal. Or even that he hallucinated or dreamed it.

But Monday morning when he picked her up for school she greeted him with a kiss to the cheek

When the bell for first period rang she stood on her toes to give him a quick peck on the lips

Thank satan he was leaned up against the lockers or he might have fallen over

They don’t have any classes together so she doesn’t see him till lunch

“Eddie bear I brought you lunch again.”

Once she’s finished divvying out the contents of her lunch box she leans over kissing his cheekbone softly.

Those of Hellfire that were paying attention where shocked sharing confused looks

Sure they knew were all in agreement that the pair was already in love and just didn’t know it but they figured if something had happened Eddie wouldn’t have shut up about it.

No one is brave enough to bring it up so they eat lunch discussing the upcoming campaign

Shortly before the bell rings (y/n) has already finished eating and begins to leave for class a little early to return something to a friend.

“I gotta go boys I’ll see you later. Bye Eds.” She hums.

He tilts his head towards her this time so she kisses Eddie right on the lips. It’s a little slower than a quick peck but fast enough to not linger.

Most of the club’s mouths are hung wide open in disbelief.

“Dude when the hell did that happen?” Gareth is brave enough to ask

“When did what happen?” Eddie plays clueless.

“(Y/n) just kissed you? Like on the lips?” Jeff points out.

“So?”

“So when did ya get the balls to ask her out?” Gareth asks

“No way a babe like (Y/n) is into Eddie, they’re fucking with us.” Wheeler laughs

Eddie in response chucks a small pretzel at Mike’s head.

“For your information I didn’t ask her out. And it’s none of your damn business.”

The group continues to ask question and make theories about what’s going on.

“A dare?”

“A bet?”

“She’s actually been replaced with a an alien?”

“Enough!” Eddie finally shouts smacking his hands against the table.

The bell rings thankfully saving him.

At the end of the day (Y/n) is at cheer practice while Eddie waits for her out at the fan puffing from a cigarette.

Eventually he sees her exiting the gym talking to Chrissy Cunningham and one of the other cheerleaders, the only two (Y/n) can really stand. While the rest of the cheer squad lingers behind them talking to their jock boyfriends.

Eddie stomps out his cigarette. He thinks this will be the real test whether or not she kisses him knowing full well their all watching

Sure enough the second their eyes meet she runs a little bit ahead locking her arms around his neck while he hugs her waist.

“Hey princess how was practice?”

“It was fine, ready to go back to your place though.”

“As you wish.”

Before she pulls away she makes sure to stand on her toes again leaning up to kiss him.

He’s a little shocked but eventually kisses her back.

He doesn’t even care when they pull apart and the jocks and cheerleaders are making snide remarks about the scene.

It’s Wayne’s night off so he’s actually back at the trailer when they get there.

“Hey kids how was school?”

“Was alright actually stayed through the whole thing so.”

“I told ya that girl was a good influence on you son.”

Rather than running off to his room they decide to hang out with Wayne for a bit

The three lounge around the couch watching a terrible cheesy horror movie Eddie picked out

“I’m gonna grab a drink, you want one sweetheart?”

“Yes please.”

After the many kisses of the day he doesn’t even think about it just leaning down to give her a kiss before strolling to the kitchen.

“I’m actually gonna grab a beer.” Wayne follows his nephew into the kitchen.

Eddie is grabbing two Yoo-hoos from the fridge when Wayne clears his throat.

“When did that happen?”

“What?”

“Don’t bullshit me boy we both know I saw what happened.”

Eddie took a deep breath leaning his back against the counter. While Wayne pulls out a can of beer cracking it open.

“Oh yeah that.”

“Mhm start talkin.”

“It’s not what you think uncle Wayne. We’re just friends still.”

“Last I checked your other friends didn’t go around kissin you like that.”

“You don’t know what Gareth and I get up to.”

“Boy could you be serious for a minute this is (Y/n) we’re talking about.”

“Fine fine well we were talking about kissing, and she figured out I’ve never been kissed to just be kissed. Apparently that’s like this big deal to her. So she started kissing me.”

“So she ain’t your girlfriend but you’re kissin each other?”

“Yeah something like that.”

Wayne snorts shaking his head just a little sipping from his beer.

“What’s so funny?”

“Girls like that don’t just kiss boys for no reason. I’m tellin you Eddie you better fess up before it’s too late.”

“Yeah I know I know.”

Wayne pats his nephew on the shoulder and the two return the living room

#eddie stranger things #eddie munson x reader #stranger things x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson/reader #eddie munson/you #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x cheerleader!reader #edide Munson x reader blurbs

[heartfullofleeches]

Convenience Store

Yandere Goddess x G.N Reader

Genre/Tags: Comedic Horror, Yandere| Mentions of blood and death

Word count: 1k

-

She's late again.

This is the sixth time in a row that your coworker has shown up late for work. You both work in a crappy convenience store in the middle of nowhere, where you and her are the only employees; aside from constantly changing your manager whom you never hear from unless they're screaming into the telephone.

Ding - Ding

The sliding doors' sensor alerts you to a new arrival with a friendly jingle. You know it could only be one person - since you never actually got any customers. The woman pulls off her coat and baseball cap with the line of "People fear me, Fish want me" crudely drawn on with a marker, and sits both on the floor by the coat rack. She coincidentally happens to be wearing a shirt with the same line and poor penmanship.

She strolls over to the frozen drink machine; creating a concoction of each flavor - and a bottle of an energy supplement. She, at least, makes her way to the counter; finishing the drink in a few gulps. She grins at you, eyes hidden behind red riffs of hair.

"Heya, Y/n. How's my favorite cashier?"

"Hey, Salem."

She scoffs at the nickname. "I told you that's not my name. You know what it is."

You really didn't. She never told you what it was or wore her badge. You started calling her that due to the brand of cigarettes she smoked, and created quite the tab on. You didn't care much either way, especially since you had plans after work.

"Can you hurry up and clock in? I'll be late to my appointment so they can take off this cast."

A day before your first shift, you got into an accident that broke your right arm. They still made you come in the next day, bit Salem was nice enough to draw a skull as well as write her phone number on it. Over the phone your doctor informed you that today was the day. You hope you'll be able to find the hospital in time.

Salem wiping a blood stain off the counter before she leabs against it. "Yeah, it's about that time. I made sure to give the guy who did it an extra swing before I threw him in the woodchipper."

"Thanks?"

She sighs. "I'm gonna miss all this?"

"Are you quiting or something?"

"No, but you are in a way. You're finally waking up."

"What are you talking about?"

Salem pulls out a lighter, grabbing a pack of cigarettes from behind you. "There's something I gotta tell you, Y/n."

"Okay?"

"You're dead."

"...o...kay"

"You were sacrificed by a cult to awake a being of unspeakable power. One they believed could gift them that same power, but it doesn't want that. It just wants to destroy. Been doing that for quite some time now."

"Alright."

"I'm that being, Y/n. I've kept you in this limbo for what feels like months, but has only been 48 hours. It took me a while to figure out how put you back together. It was like working with wet play-doh that kept falling apart and had bones."

"I sorta figured that out by now."

"Right. What you probably haven't figured out is that I'm in love with you. I've done this little song and dance before, but there's something about you that I can shake from my mind. I'm not even technically that God. I'm one of its meals that took over after it was killed. That's how its immortally works. Pretty vicious cycle."

Salem lights her cigarette, taking a long drag as she pats you on the back. "I'm only telling you this as a caution for what you're about to see. It ain't pretty, and I'm not either - but I don't have any plans of letting you go. I've decided to turn a new leaf. Peace and love, and all that. Less someone tries to take ya from me again.. See you in a few, Y/n."

She finally clocks in. You head to the store's exit, a white light beyond its reach. You had questions, but they would have to be left to another time as your body moves on its own. The door chimes once more as you take your final exit.

-

You wake on the floor of a large cabin; a foul stench in the area and piles of bodies around you. An outstretched arm lies in front of you - and nothing more. A familiar jacket is thrown over your body; your own clothes sticky and cold from the puddles of blood around you - one centering from right beneath you. You slowly sit up, remembering what happened before you died.

You were on your way home from work and had to take a side road due to construction. While making your way, a truck plowed into your car; knocking you out cold. You woke back up right before they slit your throat.

A frightened scream draws your attention to the front of the room; the alter where your life was stolen. A cult member is held in the large fist of a near indescribable figure. Its head scraps the ceiling; back turned so all you can see is the tail coat of its attire and the edge of the mask that hides its upper face. The pinkish tendrils that flow from its head weave together in what you could best describe as a lion's mane. It pulls back the mask that covers its face, a multitude of black tongues sweeping across the cult member's face before separate pairs of jaws are clamp around their body. It drops what's left of the corpse like a discarded rag; turning its head upon you.

It steps forward, a mist enveloping its body as it moves. As the fog shrinks and clears, you're left staring at your old coworker who greets you with a wide grin - fixing her cap on her head as she holds out her arms.

"Welcome back, baby! Gathered a welcoming party just for ya!"

Salem walks over, taking her jacket from your lap and putting it on before offering you her hand.

"Hope you don't forget everything I told you. Let's go get something to eat, I'm starving."

#yandere oc #yandere #yandere scenarios #yandere x you #yandere headcanons #yandere insert #yandere imagines #yandere blurb #yandere x reader #yandere teratophilia #female yandere #yandere x y/n #yandere x darling #yandere god #yandere monster #tw yandere #yandere writing #yandere drabble

[sawcondeezicons]

my last girlfriend was a feminist, vegan punk who broke up with me because she thought i was too angry.

[ID: 6 circular icons of adam faulkner-stanheight from saw. the first and fourth icons show him side-on, wearing a white t-shirt and smoking a cigarette, his hair wet; the second and fifth icons show him holding a camera over his face and taking a photo, wearing a loose, striped button-up; the third and sixth icons show him looking towards the camera with a shocked, scared expression, his hair wet and his shirt soaked in blood. the second, fourth, and sixth icons' backgrounds have been edited to be in black and white. /End ID]

#og #horror #saw #adam faulkner stanheight #blood tw #saw 2004 #adam stanheight #adam stanheight icons #adam faulkner stanheight icons #saw adam #saw adam icons #saw icons #saw series #saw films #saw movies #horror icons #horror movies #saw 2004 icons

[biomic]

mom screamed in my face for telling her not to smoke and then called my sister to say i was a "fat bastard loser" and that she hopes i die. awesome. that's a lot even for her. for context, she was in the hospital last month with severe breathing issues and was essentially put on palliative care because they couldn't get a proper diagnosis before she ended up recovering. she would've died if i hadn't put my foot down and taken her there. and that's like, the fifth or sixth time i've basically saved her life. i've genuinely lost count by this point. but asking her not to smoke a cigarette is a step too far i guess!

im just so exhausted that this is all happening again. she spirals and she improves and then she spirals again and none of the systems in place that should be able to help us can do anything without more money than we can afford. my sister called me afterwards to know what the hell was going on and i just broke down. as comforting as she tries to be she's still quick to remind me that i shouldn't hate mom because she's mentally ill and she's a victim in all this too. i've tried so, so hard over the years to stay compassionate and empathetic towards my mother and i know she doesn't "actually mean" most of the things she says in this state, but when am i allowed to just say i don't care anymore? even when she's stable and receiving treatment, she downplays the impact it has on all of us and refuses to self reflect beyond a few measly "sorrys"

it's so dehumanizing to take care of someone for over 15 years, sacrificing so much of your time and energy and life just to still be treated this way. like im shit on the bottom of her shoe for daring to question her for HER benefit. i can never get those years back. i am so much less of the person i could've been because of everything i've had to do and give in the hopes that maybe this time, she'll really get better.

i will be okay. we're already putting things in motion to get her care again, and maybe by some miracle, find somewhere she can stay and get help long term this time. i will not hurt myself (and i never have before), and i will not shut down and disappear for two months without a word like last year. i still hate that i did that. i don't want to worry anybody, and i don't even want to be making this post. my new therapist has been great and so incredibly helpful already and i'll get into all this with her later in the week, but i just had to get this out of my system for today.

<3

#awful day. #very heavy family stuff. just needed to get it out somewhere #i will be okay

[sag3vrr]

102 // matty healy x reader

• warnings: swearing

• angst with some fluff here and there

• summary: two people so stupidly in love they don’t even realise the others feelings

Well, we’re here

We’re at the common again

Smoked six of the ten fags that

I only bought an hour ago

The old bench creaked slightly as he sat down, the only noise in the quiet park beside the slow breathing of you and Matty. He avoided your gaze, only looking down.

He fumbled around his pocket, the already beat up cigarette packet coming out along with his hand, despite the fact it was only so recently bought. The packet was half empty, and flimsy and he pulled out another one.

“You bought those earlier. What’s that, the sixth one?” You brought it up, it wasn’t healthy. He only sighed.

He turned to finally meet your eyes. Deja vu hit you like a strong gust of wind - It took you back to a similar day, around this time of the year.

It had been a hard day, life throwing so many troubles at you, as if telling you that you’re life had been going so well, something had to happen that would knock you slightly.

You always thought it seemed cheesy, but it was like fate. It was like fate when you fell upon those brown eyes, eyes that spoke to you, and told you they were going through the same thing.

After that, the two of you always came back to this place. It was your common ground. A place the two of you could come to and just talk. Be open. Be yourselves.

His voice shook you out of your trance.

“I’m sorry.”

Your hand was on his in an instant, heat engulfing his cold hand. You were always warm, something he had noticed about you - no matter the season, the weather. He always seemed to noticed the small things.

The argument that morning was forgotten.

Said well i

I like the look of your shoes

I like the way that your face looks

When i’m arguin’ with you

It was always small things he brought up. Small things that somehow made your cheeks turn red and your heart swell. Things that make you forget all the difficult times.

“I like your shoes.” He told you, as you sat side by side on the train.

You turned your head from the view of the countryside, to a view you always preferred. He had that sweet, innocent smile plastered on his face.

He was already looking at you. No, looking into you. He seemed to see straight through whatever front you subconsciously put up, he may as well be able to just read your mind.

“You okay?” He asked.

“Yeah. Yeah, just… thinking. It’s silly, you don’t want to hear about it.”

He kept looking at you, his kind eyes simply telling you to carry on. To tell him. To open your heart and mind to him because that’s all he wants.

“Well, it’s… everything is going so great right now. I don’t really think i’ve ever been so happy in my life. But it feels like something bad is inevitable. Like it’s waiting for me to be unprepared and throw its self at me.” You sigh, looking down at your hands in your lap. “Does that make sense? I don’t know. It’s…” You falter, lip slightly trembling.

“It makes sense,” Your head lifts up again at his words. You instinctively smile, because he gets you. He understands you, relates to you. “It makes so much sense. I feel exactly the same, darling.”

Like always, the name makes your heart skip a beat.

He doesn’t think there’s anything he could ever dislike about you, no matter how many awkward stories you told him from your past, insecurities, habits that would normally put some people off, he loves every one of them.

Even other small things, because even in the midst of an argument, which in realness, was quite a stupid one, he notices them.

“Can you just fucking look at me, Matty? You are seriously pissing me off right now!” The words came out with aggressiveness, and it made him do what you said.

His eyes flickered over your features, eyebrows furrowed, lip slightly pouted, eyes narrowed. as you waited for a response.

He couldn’t help but think about how pretty you looked.

And so when

When we all grow old

I hope this song will remind you that i’m not

Half as bad as what you’ve been told

You always reassured him that you didn’t believe or simply didn’t care about the things that were put in the news about him.

Yet you could tell there was always something eating away at him about it.

He would ring you, ask you if you’ve read what was put on by a journalist on something stupid, like The Sun. You’d eventually go around to his place, simply to calm his nerves.

“You know what i think about those, Matty.”

“They take so many fucking things out of context, it’s so frustrating. I’m not like that. I swear to God, i’m not—”

“Matty!” You cut him off, a gentle hand on his shoulder, and he stopped immediately. “I know. I know you. The real you.” You reached up with two fingers to tap his temple. “I wish you realised that.”

He sighed. “I do. I do. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.” You opened your arms, and he understood.

The two of you hugged, embraced. His body slightly shook and you heard the odd sniffle come from his nose. Your hand soothingly ran up and down his back.

And when i knock

At a hundred and two

And i see your pyjamas

I can’t stop smiling at you

It was an often recurrence, and had become a part of your routine. You would start pouring two cups of tea, or two glasses of wine. Set out an extra blanket. Small things you do when you know a guest is coming round.

It’s not like he would ever actually tell you he was coming, you began to catch on to when he would. Some might call it impossible, but you sure as hell were always right.

You would jump up instantly at the familiar, rhythmic knock at your door. Rush there, and open it with a big smile on your face.

He’d stand there. In winter he usually had a scarf wrapped around his neck and head, engulfing him. His nose and cheeks red, a big coat on, with a sweater and always multiple layers underneath, unruly curls trying to get out of the scarf they hid under, a few stray ones over his eyes.

While in summer, he would be clad in a lot of the time, either a tank top or simple t-shirt. While he claimed to dislike men in shorts, he would usually be in some. His face red from heat rather than cold, for which you would always stress to him how he needs to start putting suncream on.

“Hi.” You’d say, smiling widely, your hair slightly messy, make-up free, and always in some comfy pyjamas.

His face always had a big grin on when he was at your place, which never seemed to falter.

He wished he could just stay there forever, kiss you. He wished he could simply tell you he wanted that.

But he couldn’t, not really knowing why himself.

And that’s why we’re here

We’re at the common again

I’ve been pouring my heart out

Towards your optimistic grin

Whatever happened, it always seemed to lead back to that bench. In that park. Besides that willow tree.

“And there’s this stupid song that just won’t sound right. And i feel like i’m never going to get this album finished. No matter what i do, something sounds wrong. Off. I don’t know why. I know what i want it to sound like, and… feel like. So why won’t it?” He rambles on and on, his heart pouring out and flowing into your ears. You wish you could lock it inside your mind, and keep it forever, just like he does with you.

“It’s going to be okay.” You tell him. You didn’t really know if it would.

And because you say it, the optimism rubs off on him. As if you could say anything with that honey-like voice, and he’d believe you without a doubt in the world.

I said well i, i

I like the cut of your jib

I like the way that your face looks

When you’re yappin’ on about him

His mind feels like a broken record playing, looping the same lyrics again and again whenever he’s around you. He can’t stop but think about how beautiful you always seem to be. It’s like it came so natural to you, no matter what you’d be doing he could never imagine you it looking breath taking, because whenever he’s around you he feels like he has forgotten how to breathe properly.

You had just got back from a date with a guy. He didn’t like it - but if he didn’t have the balls to tell you, he remembered it wasn’t your fault. So he listened, he listened all about it while silently wishing it was him.

“He was really nice. I haven’t met anyone like that in a long time.” You told him, yet you couldn’t even believe your own statement yourself. You certainly have.

“Are you going to see him again?” He asks, with hopes you’ll say no.

“Maybe. I don’t know.”

But on this shirt

Well i found your smell

I just sat there for ages

Contemplating what to do with myself

That night, he got home with a bag of stuff he had left at your house he needed to take home and wash.

He had found a shirt in the bag, and was hit with an instant, comforting smell. The scent of the perfume you always used everyday with out fail smelt heavenly to him. It was weird, because it felt like you were stood right next to him.

He slumped into his bed with a huff, his hands still tight in their grip of the shirt, until his knuckles turned white, forcing him to drop the shirt.

He let out a curse of frustration, his hands going up to cover his face as his fingers reached up to tug at his hair in frustration.

He wondered why he couldn’t just tell you. He wanted to. Maybe it was fear. Fear that you wouldn’t feel the same. He would rather suffer in the background of your life than lose you forever.

He imagined himself going over to your house right now. One in the morning, and just telling you what he longed to.

“I am so fucking in love with you.”

He muttered the words to himself, and collapsed back onto his pillows, his head filled with you.

I called you up

At a hundred and two

We just sat there for ages

Talkin’ about that boy what

Was gettin’ on to you

You, you, you

The rhythmic knock came up at your door, taking you by surprise, you hadn’t expected him to come today, and you find your way to the door even quicker than most days.

“Matty?” You say as you open the door.

He appearers out of breath, in a simple hoodie and joggers. “I’m sorry… i just- had to…” he trails off, not finding the words.

“Come in, get inside you daft twat, i’ll make you a cuppa, how’s that sound?” He obliges, steps inside.

You end up talking for ages, and you tell him about the new guy you’ve been seeing. Really, he was only a distraction, to stop you thinking about Matty. If only he knew that.

He doesn’t tell you that night.

In fact, he never does. He never directly tells you.

He goes on tour. You move on with life.

In some insane way, it’s like everything that happened between you and Matty wasn’t real, there was no evidence of it, anyway.

The smell of him that one lingered your apartment was replaced with a fresh, new one. There was nothing of his there anymore. His number hidden, forgotten among a flood of over contacts.

You took your headphones out, pausing the youtube video you saw the link to when you stumbled upon an instagram post about Matty performing a song acoustically by himself.

You looked up at your house number - 102.

And only then, do you realise how naïve and oblivious you had been.

When your inside your house, everything hits you all at once, you picture everything as if he was there, the now empty ashtray with too many cigarette butts to count, the now carefully placed cushions of the couch scattered about randomly, two wine glasses on the kitchen counter.

And as you sit there, contemplating what to do, you finally decide.

You do something you should have done a long time ago. He sounds slightly taken aback as he answers the phone with your name.

You call him to a hundred and two.

#the 1975 #matty x reader #matty healy the 1975 #matty healy x reader #matty healy fic

[eddiesbigolepp]

i think were alone now

synopsis: eddie has to sneak around to his sweet little girlfriend, not that he minds anyway.

pairing: eddie munson x cheerleader!reader

warnings: swearing, cigarettes, eddie being a total corn dog.

word count: 749

a/n: heavily inspired by the song, i think were alone now by tiffany

the quick glances, and small smiles you sent each other were barely enough to get you through the day. keeping your relationship secret was tough, but the two of you agreed its what you wanted. it kept the eyes of the nosy hawkins high girls out of your life and the meddling hawkins high boys out of his. it was a win win.

today was odd though, you felt his eyes linger on you longer than usual and when you passed him in the hall he looked sad and a little lonely. lunch time was no better. as you pushed around the food on your plate, listening to chrissy ramble about what cheers to do at tomorrows game you saw him. looking at you. every few seconds you’d see his eyes flash over to yours through the sea of heads.

even his friends knew something was off when he didn’t yell once all lunch. they tried to engage in conversation with him, but all he would do is nod or stuff another fry into his mouth. he smiled once, when he saw you laugh at a joke the girls had made but thats about it. he left early, lunch box in tow as he busted through the doors of the cafeteria.

once the school bell rang, you bee-lined straight for your locker. ready to drop off your calculus text book and pick up your history one. when you open the door a piece of paper flutters out.

“meet me at my van. i know its sixth period and you really have to keep your grade up in history but, i miss you.

please come sweetheart im dyin’ here..

-eddie”

you giggle to yourself, folding the ripped page and holding it to your chest as you look around. the door to the lot was right there, no one would notice if you slipped away.

so you did.

you leave the building and start looking for that familiar van. its all the way at the end of the parking lot, and you roll your eyes knowing that he used it as bid excuse for being late this morning. by the time you make it, you see the back door of the van pulled open and him sitting on the ledge.

“oh thank god you made it,” he says standing up quickly to pull you into a hug. “if you didn’t come i don’t know what i would’ve done.” he mumbles into your hair.

“hello to you too!” you laugh, wrapping your arms around his neck. “what’s up with you today, eddie? is everything okay?” you question, pulling your head back to look at his face.

“its nuthin’, i just missed my girlfriend.” he mutters, leaning in to kiss you, before you guys hear doors opening in the distance.

“sixth period gym,” you say, and he groans pulling away from your embrace. “they’ll see us if we stay here.” you frown, flattening the front of your cheer skirt.

“get in, lets go, hurry up, chop-chop,” he laughs pulling your door open and helping you into the passenger side seat. he walks around the front after closing both doors and hops in. “lets get out of here yeah?” he smiles and you lean over to kiss his cheek before he takes off.

when he puts the van in park, you’re confused. he parked on a dirt patch on the side of the road. “where are we?” you ask, hopping out of the van.

“somewhere special..” he smiles, grabbing your hand and guiding you through the forest into a clearing.

“whoa, thats huge!” you laugh running up to the large rock that sat at the middle of the clearing. you look back at him with the widest smile and it makes his heart melt.

“it’s skull rock, come here to smoke sometimes,” he says and you turn to him, “other people come here to make out,” he smirks and watches a blush rise on your face. theres a snap and your head whips around toward the noise.

“doll,” he says coming up behind you and grabbing your hand, “i think were alone now,” he chuckles pointing toward the rabbit that jumped out from behind the bushes.

“shutup,” you laugh, “i just don’t want anyone bothering us.” you mumble as he turns your body around to face his again.

“now where were we?” he says, holding your face with his right hand and holding your waist with his left and pulling you in for a kiss.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie x cheerleader!reader #eddie stranger things #eddie munson st4 #stranger things 4 #stranger things #stranger things imagine #ST4