#I’ve had this idea for a while but I saw a fic mentioning his bad typing and I’m like alright that’s IT I’m writing it

[a-concert-just-for-me]

plot twist hunter isn’t bad at typing in particular, he’s just dyslexic lmao

Here’s some stream of consciousness dialogue between him and Luz I did real quick on my lunch break

Yes I really did look at a Singer instruction manual for this LMAO

[xxbimbobunnyxx]

Cat and Mouse

(Perv!Eddie Munson x Perv!Fem Reader)

Summary: Eddie thinks you are innocent and oblivious to all the pervy things he does behind your back, but what he doesn’t know is that you’re fully aware. Not only that, but you like it, and you just might be a bit of a perv yourself. WK: 8k (idk what happened)

Warnings: Where do I even begin? This is filthy guys… Panty stealing, honestly just Eddie and Reader both taking things of each others without asking (and using them to pleasure themselves), Maybe a tiny bit of angst? Idk there’s like a second where they’re both doubting themselves but it’s solved quickly. SMUTTTT!!! Unprotected P in V, Oral (M and F receiving), overstimulation(on R), hair pulling, slightly sub!Eddie? Idk he’s just really down bad(but so is R), dirty talk but like dirty dirty. Idk what to tell y’all they’re pervs, they’re gross, this is feral. If I missed anything pls lmk!! 18+MNDI!!

A/N: Listen… idk what came over me with this one… a horny demon possessed me and wrote this.. It was fueled by my feral period brain and all the perv Eddie fics I’ve seen where Reader is innocent, which is still very hot and I love it but I’m a whore so I wanted to write something where maybe she wasn’t as innocent as Eddie thought. That’s it, that’s all I have to say, pls enjoy the filth. 😌 (also shout out to @take-everything-you-can for mentioning something about taking Eddie’s shirt, I kind of took that idea and ran a mile with it.) My Masterlist

You met Eddie a few months ago, you were working at your uncle’s comic book shop when he came in looking for some dice. He came in a few more times after that, always needing something for his campaign, or looking for a comic for one of his younger friends he told you about. He would always stay and talk to you for a while, telling you things about his life, asking about yours. Eventually he asked you if you wanted to come to one of his shows and the two of you had basically been inseparable since.

You hadn’t known him long but it didn’t take long for you to pick up on a few things. Like how his eyes would always linger on your thighs when you’d cross them on his bed in your little ruffly skirts, or how they looked like they were going to pop out of his head when he noticed you hardly ever wear a bra. You noticed he always talked to you in this way that made you seem so innocent and pure, untouched. You weren’t, but noticed he liked it, so you played into it.

You started to notice things going missing, a pair of underwear that didn’t quite make it in the dirty clothes basket, a tester vile of your perfume you had left over from before you decided it was worth buying the whole bottle, a picture of you from your stack of polaroids that was of you at the beach in your little red bikini.

So you started leaving things. Your dirty underwear on display, always at the very top of your laundry basket. A nearly empty bottle of your favorite lotion sitting next to the trash, ready to be thrown out. A picture of your tits with your forearm just barely covering your nipples at the top of the stack of Polaroids.

Each time they would be gone, and you weren’t sure at this point if he was just playing along or if he was the one that was really that naive.

•

The first time Eddie saw you he was convinced you were an angel. Standing behind the counter at the comic shop downtown in your little white sweater and pink skirt. When he walked up to look at the dice in the glass underneath the register he could see your white thigh high socks. You had this cute ribbon in your hair and when you spoke your voice sounded like sugarcane. You asked him if there where any sets that stood out to him, and then you surprised the hell out of him by asking if they were for D&D. You had never played, but your cousins and your uncle did, so you knew the basics.

He couldn’t stop himself from coming in after that, finding any excuse to make a trip to see his favorite girl. Maybe he would decide he needed a new mini for an NPC or offer to go get a new release of a comic for Dustin while he was at school. He always spent a while standing there talking to you, getting to know you, ogling you because he just couldn’t help himself. How could he? When you would lean over the counter giving him a perfect view of your tits through your thin shirts and hardly ever wore a bra? When you would ask him to hold the ladder steady so you could get something up high and he would get a perfect view up your skirt of whatever panties you wore that day? You were irresistible.

He learned that you weren’t only beautiful but actually really cool. You knew a lot about comics, you had read Tolkien, you loved horror movies possibly more than he did, and you were down to give any music a chance.

You also had this innocence about you, like you almost didn’t realize how much he wanted you. It just made him want you more. You’d look at him with those big round eyes and pouty lips whenever he would tease you about something. When he would compliment you outright you always made this little squeaky noise and he would notice you squirm or press your thighs together.

But once you started hanging out with him outside of work that’s when he really lost control. The first time he was at your house he saw a pair of your panties next to your laundry basket. Clearly dirty by the way he could see your juices left behind on the crotch of them. You were in the bathroom changing and he just couldn’t resist. He picked them up off the ground and held them up to his nose, inhaling your scent. He felt slightly sick but he had already gone this far so he figured he might as well just have a little taste. He licked the patch where your pussy was, and even though they had mostly dried you still tasted divine. His head spun and his cock hardened as he imagined what you would really taste like. He heard the bathroom door across the hall creak open so he quickly shoved the panties into his back pocket and sat down on your bed, one leg bent at the knee crossed over the other to try and hide the very prominent bulge in his pants.

Then there was the time you had to run down to the mailboxes to check your mail, he already had been subtly staring at the small vial of your perfume after you proudly announced to him that you decided it was your signature scent now, showing him the larger bottle. He figured you wouldn’t need the small one anymore, it was almost gone anyways. So he did what he’s been finding himself doing more and more often when he’s in your room, he pocketed it. That night he sprayed it on his pillow, holding it to his face while he had your panties wrapped around his cock. Bucking into his hand with reckless abandon, imaging what yours might feel like instead.

Then there was the day he was at your apartment before you were supposed to meet up with some of his friends for a movie night and you wanted to shower after work. He was bored, snooping around a little like he usually does when he gets a moment alone in your room, and he came across a stack of Polaroids. His heart warmed when the top one was a photo of you and him at a metal show you went to with him and the guys a few towns away.

You were always surprising him and that night was no exception, banging your head until your little ribbon was about to fall out of your hair. He fixed it for you, of course. He kept looking through the stack of photos, seeing images of you and your friends back home, some of you and your cousins, and tons of you here in Hawkins. Mostly of you and him, some with his friends that were now yours too. But when he got almost to the bottom of the stack he saw a photo of you and your friends at the beach, all smiling wide at the camera. He could only see your neck and shoulders but he could tell you were wearing a little red bikini of some kind. He eagerly flipped to the next photo, hoping there might be one that proved him right, and he was not disappointed.

This picture was just you, laying on the beach with your legs outstretched in front of you, your hands were buried in the sand and just like he thought you were wearing a bright red bikini.

The way you were leaning back on your hands was making your chest stick out and the way one of your legs was slightly bent made it so he could just see the curve of your ass from the side. Your skin glistened with what he assumed was a mixture of sunscreen and sweat and he wanted to lick it off. Your eyes were adorned with heart shaped sunglasses that matched the red of your swimsuit and if he looked close enough he could tell even your toes matched.

He felt his cock harden immediately, licking his lips at the sight. Without even really thinking he shoved the photo in the back pocket of his jeans, hoping you wouldn’t notice it missing.

You tempted him twice that day, it was just too easy when you threw your clothes on top of the basket after your shower and walked into the kitchen to get a snack. Your panties were directly on top, the crotch side up, and he could see a fresh wet patch there. He couldn’t help it, he pocketed them and excused himself to the bathroom, running his tongue along the cloth where your juices had collected. His eyes rolled in the back of his head and he felt like he was going to pass out. It only took a few tugs of his cock before he was spilling cum all over his hand and exiting the bathroom with his pockets full of treasures like nothing ever happened.

•

About two weeks into this cat and mouse game you still weren’t sure you were just playing with yourself, you were alone in Eddie’s room. He ran out to his van to check for the tape he was looking for and you were sitting on his bed and one of his shirts was thrown haphazardly near his pillows like he had taken it off right before going to sleep. The thought came to you and before you could question it you were grabbing it and holding it up to your nose. It smelled good but not like you were expecting. You were expecting the scent of weed mixed with tobacco, apple shampoo and the aftershave you got for him after you told him the smell of the one he was using smelled like a 60 year old man’s wife picked it out for him.

It smelled like those things, but it also smelled like… you, your perfume. But there was something else. When you picked it up it felt slightly dry and maybe a little bit crunchy and upon closer inspection you noticed that it was dried cum. Did he spray your perfume onto his cum shirt? Was he smelling it while he stroked his cock? Thinking of you? The thought made your pussy pulse and your head spin, but it wasn’t what you wanted. Plus, he would definitely notice this missing. So when you heard the trailer door swing open you acted fast. Grabbing one of his discarded shirts that was on the ground near his bed and shoving it into your bag.

That night you did something you would’ve felt ashamed of if you weren’t positive Eddie’s done something similar, maybe even dirtier from the looks and smells of that shirt you found.

You wrapped Eddie’s shirt around your pillow and rode it until you came three times. As you drifted off to sleep still holding onto the pillow you wondered how much longer you could go without actually having the real thing.

•

Eddie was starting to wonder if you were doing this on purpose, his first indication of that being what he was currently holding in his hands. You were in the kitchen making lunch for the both of you and he was snooping around, as one does. But something caught his eye when he was walking by your shelf, something that wasn’t there before. Right on top of the stack of Polaroids he had found the bikini photo in was a picture of your tits. Your nipples were covered by your forearm, but your tits nonetheless. He was absolutely positive this hadn’t been there before, he definitely would have noticed.

Did you notice that he took the bikini photo and leave this here on purpose so he would see it? Did you take this for someone else? The thought of that made him sick to his stomach. His thoughts were bouncing around in his head like a ping pong ball trying to decide if he was reading into it, if he should take the photo or leave it. If he took it would you be mad? Would you be offended if he didn’t?

Before he could contemplate his decision further he heard your steps coming down the hall so he made a snap judgment and shoved it in his pocket. Practically launching himself onto your bed, he grabbed one of your cute frilly pillows, threw it on his lap and hoped it wouldn’t come off as suspicious.

You were walking down the hall with two bowls of Mac and cheese when you heard a shuffling sound and then the creaking of your mattress like someone just jumped on it. You smirk to yourself, wondering if Eddie saw the gift you left him.

When you open your bedroom door he’s sitting on your bed with a pillow in his lap, he flashes you a smile that is almost believable but you could see the slight flush in his cheeks. You set his bowl down on top of the pillow, and smile back.

“There you go Eds, one gourmet bowl of Kraft, as promised.” You mock curtsied, setting your own bowl down on your nightstand before walking over to your dresser under the guise of grabbing some socks. Making sure to glance as subtlety as possible at your shelf, and just as you thought, the photo was gone.

“Why thank you madam” Eddie held the spoon in his hand with his pinky out as he dramatically took a bite.

You giggled at his antics, as you grabbed the socks out of your top drawer you saw an opportunity to tease him further. You had already seen Eddie eyeing you in your little house shorts and your tank top so you pulled out your white thigh thighs, the soft fuzzy ones that you only really wore at home and made a show of putting them on.

You kept your back to him, bending over extra as you slid them slowly up your legs. You make sure to pull them up as high as they go. Leaving only a small section of skin between the top of the socks and the bottom of your shorts.

Eddie was pretty sure he was going to pass out and he thanked his past self for putting this pillow where it is right now. He watched as you pulled on your socks wondering how something as mundane as putting on fucking socks could be this sexy. When you snapped each one in place it made the meat of your thighs slightly giggle and the way they were sitting just under the curve of your ass was making it look extra juicy. He wanted to bite into it before he made his way between your thighs and spent the rest of his god damn life there.

“Fuck” He swore under his breath and hoped to god you didn’t hear him.

“Hmm? Eddie, you okay?”

You turn around and look at him with that fucking look you always gave him, like you didn’t know how sexy you were, like you didn’t know you drive him fucking crazy.

“Uh - Yeah! I was just saying fuck this is really good, I forgot how much some good ol’ kraft hits the spot.” He smiled and hoped his excuse was convincing enough, taking a large bite for good measure.

“Right? It’ll always be my favorite no matter how many homemade or restaurant kinds I’ve eaten, nothing beats it.”

You crawl onto your bed, making sure he can see down your shirt and plop down next to him on the pillows, leaning over to grab your bowl off your nightstand. Eddie can see your ass even more when your shorts ride up and he suddenly feels like he’s got to get out of here before he says or does something totally humiliating.

“I - uh - I just remembered I have to help Wayne! I told him I’d help him move his stuff into my old room since he has been so tired and hasn’t done it! So I’m - I gotta go!” He stood up swiftly, turning away from you and throwing the pillow down behind him. He didn’t turn around, just kept marching towards your door with his bowl still in hand. Only when he was practically out of your bedroom door did he turn his head to the side and address you.

“Thank you for lunch! I’ll leave the bowl in the sink! I’ll um - I’ll see you later!”

He didn’t even give you a chance to respond, ditching the bowl in the sink, grabbing his shoes not even bothering to put them on as he ran out the door to his van in only his socks.

You sat there with your mouth hanging open, eyes wide as you stared at your bedroom door wondering what the fuck just happened. Did you go too far? Were you making him uncomfortable? Maybe he changed his mind about you… Or maybe… maybe he ran home to jerk off… maybe you did go too far but not in a bad way. That’s what you hoped at least.

You bit your lip and clenched your thighs as you entertained that possibility. Was he going to go home and jerk off to your photo? Maybe with your panties held to his nose or wrapped around his cock? At least that’s what you liked to imagine he did with them, you could be wrong.

•

You were wrong, but not about that. Eddie normally used your panties exactly how you imagined. But not right now, no. He didn’t even make it home, hell, he barely made it out of your apartment building before he was pulling off into some trees and furiously tugging at his cock while he practically dripped drool on your photo. He made sure not to though, he couldn’t taint it like that. It had to remain in perfect condition in case this was his only chance to see your tits.

He grunted and whined, spitting down onto his cock and rubbing it around his tip with his thumb. His pace increased as he imagined it was your hand, or even better, your tits. He imagined sliding his spit slick cock between them while you sucked and licked at the head, he imagined covering your face and tits with his cum.

“FUCK!” He throws his head back against the seat, his eyes cross and he practically bites through his bottom lip as he cums all over his hand, his pants, even some on his shirt.

After he came down from his high, the reality of what he did hit him. He not only probably confused the hell out of you by running off like that without barely saying goodbye, he just jerked off in his fucking van to a photo he took from your bedroom. This was getting out of hand. He had to get himself under control, maybe some distance would help.

•

You hadn’t seen Eddie all week, ever since he ran out of your room like a bat out of hell and that was unusual. You guys usually saw each other a few times during the week, even if it was one of you bringing the other lunch while you were at work.

You called him a few times, either getting his voicemail or only having a brief conversation before he came up with an excuse to get off the phone. You started to wonder if you were reading things wrong after all. But that just didn’t make sense, why would he take all those things if he didn’t like you? If he didn’t want you in the desperate way you wanted him? You almost felt like you needed him.

So you decided to make a last ditch effort, no beating around the bush this time you were going to be straight forward. You grab Eddie’s shirt, your Polaroid, and your white lacy thigh highs with the little pink bows that he bashfully complimented one day.

You wrap the shirt around your pillow like you have done so many times now you’re almost ashamed. You take off your shirt and shorts before pulling on the thigh highs, leaving you in just your little white lace panties and socks.

The first photo you take is a shot from above of your tits, you can see your thong and the very top of your lace adorned thighs.

The second features your face, your eyes wide in that way you know he loves, your middle and pointer finger shoved down your throat with your lips wrapped around them. If you look close enough you can see a bit of drool dripping down between your boobs.

The third photo is a full nude, your legs spread and pussy on full display for him.

The next one is the one you’re most excited for, the one that sparked this entire plan. It’s an upshot of you from the neck down, you’re straddling the pillow that’s wrapped in Eddie’s shirt in just your socks, your free hand grabbing onto one of your tits.

The last photo is you in the same position but it’s from below, you have your fingers on your pussy, opening yourself up for him against the material of his shirt.

Satisfied with the spread, you gather them up, grab your discarded thong and remove the shirt from your pillow. You fold the panties and the photos into the shirt like they’re a gift to be unwrapped and put them in a little box. Then you write out a note.

Eddie,

if you wanted my panties… all you had to do was ask. You’ve taken all my cutest ones now. But that’s okay because I took something of yours too, I thought you might want it back.

Xoxo - Your angel.

You sign the note with the nickname he had awarded you and fold it in half, putting it on top of the shirt and then you put the lid on the box. Now all you had to do was give it to him, everyone had planned to meet at Gareth’s for a movie night tomorrow and he was supposed to pick you up. You could give it to him in the car before you get there and tell him not to open it until he gets home. It was the perfect plan. Hopefully.

•

Eddie was nervous on his way to pick you up for movie night, he had managed to avoid you the entire week, much to his dismay. He felt pathetic but he missed you, and even though he was still feeling guilty he was excited to see you.

He pulled into a guest parking spot in front of your building and was surprised to see you already standing there. He usually had to come in while you finished getting ready because you were perpetually running late. But you were standing there in a little white dress and a soft looking pink knit sweater, holding a little box in your arms. He figured it was some kind of baked goods, you pretty much always brought treats to every get together.

You saw him pull in and waved as you walked over, he jumped out of the car so he could come around and open the door for you.

“Hi Eddie, this is for you. But don’t open it now, open it when you get home. Okay? Promise me?”

You sounded nervous, hell, you looked nervous. What was in that box? He doesn’t know how he’s going to get through the night not knowing.

“A gift? For me? Angel, you shouldn’t have.” He tried to play it cool, even though he was feeling anything but.

“I didn’t spend any money on it or anything… but I’m not giving it to you unless you promise you won’t open it until you get home later.”

“Yeah, I promise.” He smiled at you reassuringly.

You handed it to him nervously, and he took it with glee, immediately shaking it like a Christmas present.

“EDDIE!! Don’t do that, you’re never going to guess what it is so just wait, please!”

You were looking at him with this pouty look on your face and he literally would’ve said yes to murder at that moment so he agreed. You let out a breath of relief as you got into the car, now all you had to do is wait.

•

Movie night wasn’t awkward like you feared it might be. When Eddie picked you up he acted totally normal, like he hadn’t been ignoring you all week and you couldn’t tell if that annoyed you or not. Maybe a little. You wanted to ask him about it but you also didn’t want to make things awkward by bringing it up so you tried to act as normal as you could.

That little box in the back of Eddie’s van was in the back of your mind all night though, you couldn’t stop overthinking and second guessing your decision. You even almost went out to his van at one point to take everything out and shove it in your bag but you talked yourself out of it.

Eddie was in a similar boat, he was having fun, he was engaging and acting as normal as he could but all he could think about was what possibly could be in that box. He knows you made him promise but there are several times where he has to physically stop himself from just going out to his van to look in it.

When the last movie ends you and Eddie were both quick to gather your things and leave. Him wanting to get home as fast as possible to see what was in the box and you wanting the looming thoughts of how he might react to just be over with.

Your goodbyes were chaste, neither of you bringing up the gift you had given him. He walked you to the door like he always did but he didn’t ask to come inside and the hug he gave was much faster than the usual bear hugs he would normally give you.

•

Eddie sped home, he lived in a studio apartment a few miles from yours and the drive had never felt so long. He pulled into his parking spot with a screech, grabbed the box from the back and rushed inside.

He didn’t even bother to take his shoes off, throwing his jacket across the back of the couch before plopping down on one of the cushions with the box in his lap.

He took a deep breath before opening it. At the top was a note, he unfolded it and as he read it he swore all the blood from his body went directly to his cock.

Underneath the note was his shirt, his favorite Iron Maiden one he hadn’t been able to find for a few weeks.

It was folded neatly so he gently took it out of the box, it felt heavier than it should and when it was fully in his grasp he could feel that there was something inside it.

He sets it down in front of him on his coffee table so he can unfold it and his jaw drops when he sees what’s inside. A pair of your panties, a little white lace thong is sitting under a stack of Polaroids.

His hand shakes as he reaches for the photos, when he sees the first one he actually moans, and then they somehow just keep getting better. But he stops dead in his tracks when he sees the second to last one.

You have his shirt wrapped around your pillow and you’re straddling it in nothing but those fucking socks, and he’s seriously going to lose his mind, especially when he sees the last photo of you in the same position, spread open for him.

It took him a second to get past the fog of lust to realize what this means. You knew. You always knew what he was doing. It all makes sense now. The way your panties were always so easy to steal, how he always happened to have the perfect view of your tits and ass, the photo. Also you took his shirt, you didn’t just take it, you put it on your fucking pillow and humped it. He hopes you did it more than once. He picks up the shirt again and he really looks at it this time, there’s little white streaks all over it, from you. He brings it to his nose and it’s the best thing he’s ever smelled. Both of your scents mixed together, topped off with the sweet smell of your pussy.

His initial thought was to rip his pants off and stroke his cock until it was raw but he realized he could do better than that. He could have the real thing. He needed to see you. Now.

He didn’t even think twice about shoving everything back in the box and walking back out the door to his van. Speeding off in the direction towards your house.

•

You were laying in your bed trying not to let your anxiety consume you when you heard banging on your door. Your heart pounded and your mouth went dry, you knew who it was, there was no way it could be anyone but him.

You opened the door and there he was, looking absolutely feral if you might add. His eyes were wide, pupils blown out, he was breathing like he ran a mile, and his hair was all over the place. You wanted to eat him alive.

“You knew?” He held up the box you had given him earlier the night, his hands shaking.

“Yeah…” You bit your lip as you nodded. “I knew the whole time… from when you took that first pair of panties, I knew.”

“And you didn’t say anything?” He looked at you, his eyes filled with lust and confusion.

You shake your head, a smirk forming across your lips.

“Why not?” He was still panting, hands grasped tightly on the box.

“It was fun, I thought for a while there that you knew I was doing it on purpose, and then when I realized you didn’t it was almost hotter to me for some reason… I’m sorry if that’s weird.” You suddenly felt super self conscious, was he mad you didn’t say anything?

“I stole your panties, multiple pairs might I add, and you’re asking me if it’s weird that you left them out for me?” He laughed, bringing his hand up to your cheek and rubbing his thumb across it.

“I could never think you were weird angel, do you know how sexy that is? And these photos…” He groaned, his eyes rolling back in his head. “Did you really…”

“Fuck my pillow with your shirt on it? Yeah.” You nodded, your face nuzzling into his palm.

“Jesus fucking christ… that’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard in my entire life, shit.”

He used the hand cradling your face to pull you closer, clashing your lips together in a hungry kiss. You immediately buried your fingers in his hair, like you did in all your fantasies. You wanted him closer but the box was still in between you so you broke the kiss long enough to pull him inside and discard it on your kitchen counter.

You pulled his mouth back down to yours by the collar of his shirt, running your tongue along his bottom lip and he immediately granted you access. Your hands made their way back into his hair and he gripped your hips pulling you tightly against him.

“God Eddie, I want you so fucking bad.” You moaned against his lips.

“Angel, I’ll give you anything you want after all these sweet gifts you’ve been leaving me without me even knowing… you really thought I knew?” He took your face in both your hands, running his hands down your neck and rubbing his thumbs along your jaw.

“For a while there, yeah… That’s why I left you that first picture, but then when I came back in my room and you were acting all nervous I realized you definitely didn’t know. I thought for a second I might’ve made you uncomfortable but I took the chance with the photos anyway… looks like it paid off.” You looked him up and down, biting your lip.

“Fuck yeah it did.” He pulled you into another bruising kiss that you happily returned. You stood there in your kitchen making out for what could’ve been minutes or hours, tongues exploring every inch of each other's mouths and your hands mapping out each other's bodies.

You finally pulled away, breathless. You smirked at him, placing a kiss on his throat before turning around and walking towards your room. Eddie wanted to scream at the sight of your ass in your tiny little pink spandex shorts. He bit down on his fist instead, admiring you for a moment before practically running after you.

You were standing in the middle of the room with a smirk on your face that he’s never seen, one you must have been hiding from him this whole time. You looked like you wanted to eat him alive and he was going to let you.

“Tell me about your fantasies Eddie… tell me what you did with my panties, I wanna know so bad.” Your smirk turned into a little pout, giving him that fucking look. The one he knows now is all an act, but something about that just makes his dick even harder for you.

“Fuck, you really want to know? The first time I sucked on them while I jerked off and right when I was about to cum I wrapped them around my dick and came all over them.”

“Mmm… that’s what I hoped you’d do, tell me more…” You walk up to him and run your hands down his chest, hook your fingers in his front pockets and give him the look.

“I can’t believe this is happening, I - uh - I was so scared if you ever found out you’d hate me. But fuck, I never imagined you would be into it.” He put his hands on your hips and squeezed, almost like he was making sure this was real.

“Well, you better believe it honey, because I am so so into it.. please tell me more.” You lean up and press wet kisses along his neck.

“God damn.” He throws his head to the side more, granting you further access to his throat. “When I had a second pair I sucked on the newer ones and used that same pair to jerk off. Then when I got your perfume I sprayed it on my pillow so that I could smell you and taste you.”

“Mmm Eddie, that’s so hot.” You bite into his throat causing him to let out the cutest little yelp, sucking the skin into your mouth, wanting to mark him as your own.

“Then once I had the bikini photo I was able to see you too, so it was like I was surrounded by you in every way possible.”

His hands snake down your hips to grab onto your ass, the material of your shorts and the feeling of your soft skin contrasting with the calluses on his fingers.

“That day when I found that picture of your tits… and then you somehow found a way to make putting socks on one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen and you topped it off by bending over in those little shorts with your ass practically in my face? I barely made it out of your building before I pulled over and jerked off in my van like a depraved psycho.”

You moaned at that, pulling back from his neck to look him in the eyes.

“If you’re depraved… so am I.” You pull your tank top over your head and throw it on the ground behind you somewhere, followed by your shorts. Eddie seriously thinks he’s in love with you at this point because you’re not wearing a bra or panties but you are of course wearing white thigh highs. You’re standing there like every fantasy he’s ever had about you come true, but better.

“Angel, those pictures have nothing on the real thing” He grabbed onto your tits, twisting your nipples between his fingers. Using his nose to brush your hair away so he can whisper in your ear. “I need to taste you so bad, like, so bad. I need to know what the real thing tastes like.”

“Mmm fuck, yes, want that so bad.”

You lay back on your bed and spread your legs, showing him how wet you are for him. Eddie doesn’t think twice before dropping to his knees in front of your bed and throwing your legs over his shoulders. He wishes he had it in him to kiss every inch of you before tasting you but it was like someone offered him the nectar of the gods and he needed it now.

He parted your lips with his fingers before running his tongue along your slit, licking up and down with a flat tongue before shoving it as far as it could go inside you.

“Ho- holy shit! Eddie!! Fuck, your mouth is so good.” Your fingers found his hair again, tugging and the groan he lets out sends vibrations through your pussy.

“I thought your panties tasted sweet but nothing will ever taste sweeter than the real thing, oh my god baby.”

His tongue comes up to circle your clit, wrapping his lips around it and sucking. You feel his fingers circle your entrance before he’s inserting his pointer and middle finger deep inside you. He curls his fingers in just the right way, he’s still sucking your clit while he runs circles around it with his tongue and you feel yourself getting close.

“I’m gonna - I’m gonna - fuckinnng cum - I’m gonna cum.” You pull his hair again and start rocking your hips against his face. You watch his eyes roll back and feel him moan into you again, knowing he’s enjoying this as much as you is what sends you over the edge. Your hips rising off the bed and your hands falling from his hair to grasp the sheets. Eddie brings his free hand down on your abdomen to hold you down as he fucks you through your high.

You try to push him off once it becomes too much but you hear, or more so feel him let out an “Uh-Uh” into your pussy. His hand that’s pinning you down doesn’t move and his fingers stay buried inside you. He’s licking and sucking on your clit like a man starved and you immediately feel another orgasm crash over you. Your entire body shakes and you let out noises you didn’t even know you can make.

When he feels you push at his head this time he lets you, looking up at you with a grin on his face, his chin and mouth covered in your juices.

“Sorry… you just tasted so good and when you came it was so hot I didn’t want to stop.” He looked awfully bashful for someone who was just eating you out like it was his fucking job.

“You’re sorry? Holy shit Eddie, I’ve never cum that hard in my entire life.”

He smiled triumphantly, you’d think just told him he won the lottery. He came up and covered his body with yours, kissing you without wiping his face. The taste of you on his tongue was intoxicating so you pulled away from the kiss and licked his lips, then his chin, and down his neck.

“Fuck, we taste so good together.” You moan.

“Holy fucking shit, you’re my dream girl.”

“Let me return the favor, I wanna taste you too, also you are wearing way too many clothes right now.” You pull at the hem of his shirt and he puts his arm behind his head to pull it off.

You’ve never seen him shirtless before and you needed a better view. You push on his shoulders until he lifts himself off of you and lays back on the bed. You throw your leg over him to straddle him, looking down at him in awe.

“Wow Eddie… you’re beautiful.”

You smile at him with that devilish little smile he’s becoming addicted to as you run your soft hands along his chest before raking your nails down his torso, all the way to the waistband of his jeans. His back arches off the bed as he lets out this sound that you want to hear him make over and over again.

You grind your hips down on his, fiddling with his belt loop and looking at him with a question in your eyes.

“Please.” Now he’s the one giving you the look and you understand why he loves it much. Those big brown eyes are wide and glassy, there’s a slight pout on his lips and even though he just ate you out so good it makes you want to sit on his face.

But there’s something you want more, something you’ve been dreaming about. So you undo his belt and jeans with deft fingers, pulling on the waistband of both his pants and boxers. He lifts his hips so you can pull them down and when his cock pops out and hits his stomach your jaw actually drops.

You always figured Eddie was big. You caught small glimpses through his jeans when he thought he was hiding his boners better than he really was, so you had an idea. But it’s bigger than you imagined, and so so pretty. The tip red and leaking precum, each vein prominent because of how hard he was. You lick your lips and spit on your hand, wrapping your hand around his cock and pumping it a few times. He makes that sound again and you know you’re addicted to it now.

“Your cock is huge baby, I can’t wait to feel it stretching me out.” You spit on the head of his cock, circling your thumb around it before you lean down and take it in your mouth.

“Holy - fuckING - sh - shit!” Eddie instinctually jerks forward, his cock hits the back of your throat and you gag.

He’s about to apologize but you don’t pull off, just push his cock further down your throat until your nose is snug against the hair at the base. There’s tears coming out of the sides of your eyes and drool dripping down your chin but you’re moaning and so he can tell you’re enjoying it. You circle your tongue around his shaft a few times before pulling off.

Not for long though, you take him as far as you can without gagging and start bobbing your head up and down, your hand moving in time with whatever your mouth can't reach. Eddie is a moaning mess, he’s babbling your name in between curse words, switching between grabbing onto your hair, the sheets, and his own hair.

When you pull off his dick and bring your mouth to his balls, swirling your tongue all around his sack before sucking one into your mouth he’s pretty sure he’s in love with you. But he’s also positive that he wants to fuck you so he grabs you by your hair and pulls you off.

“Hey, I wasn’t done!” You look at him with a pout and you whine. Every time Eddie thinks he can’t possibly be anymore obsessed with you, you prove him wrong.

“Yeah but I was about to come and I want to fuck you so badly.” He’s the one whining now.

“Can I ride you?” You ask him like that’s even a question.

“Fuck yeah you can.”

You eagerly climb back up to straddle him, wasting no time lining him up with your entrance and sliding down on his cock. It’s still a stretch but you’re so wet it hardly hurts. You rock back and forth a few times once your hips are flush against yours and you moan in unison at the feeling.

“Oh sh- shit, your pussy is so fucking t- tight. Feels better than I could’ve ever imagined.”

“Yeah? Your cock is so fucking big, filling me up so good Eds.”

You start riding him hard and fast, your ass bouncing against his thighs, your tits on full display and you’re moaning his name over and over again like a prayer. He has one hand on your ass, grabbing it so hard you’re sure you’re going to have a bruise there tomorrow, and you honestly hope you do. He brings the thumb of his free hand up to your bottom lip and runs it across it.

“Suck.”

You do, happily, swirling your tongue around the digit and moaning at the feeling of having something in your mouth while your pussy is being filled too. He pulls it out and you’re about to mourn the loss but then he’s rubbing circles on your clit and fucking up into you to meet your thrusts.

He starts fucking you so fast that you can’t keep up, you put your hands on his chest, your nails digging into his flesh and just let him take you. He’s fucking you hard and fast, his cock hitting just the right spot while he continues to circle your clit.

“Eddie I’m c - close I-I’m close.” Your babbling and drooling, fucked out and on the brink of what you know is going to be a mind altering orgasm.

“Me too Angel, I need you to cum for me. Cum all over my cock just like you dreamed about when you were humping your little pillow.” His feet are flat on the mattress and he’s somehow fucking you harder than he was before. When you cum your vision goes white, pleasure jolts through your entire system and you aren’t even sure you’re on this planet anymore.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck I’m gonna- I’m gonna cum, where do you?”

Eddie talking brings you back to earth just enough to respond, to tell him what you want.

“Inside! Eddie please inside! I want you to cum inside me so bad!” You start to meet his thrusts, he’s still rubbing your clit and you’re so sensitive you already feel another orgasm coming on.

“Oh fuck!!!” Eddie cries out as his thrusts slow down to pumps and his cum spills inside you. The feeling sends you over the edge, cumming right along with him. Your walls squeeze him for all he’s worth.

When you come down you let yourself fall onto his chest, both of you panting, your hearts pounding. You lay like that for a while, catching your breath and enjoying the feeling of each other. Eventually your knees start to cramp and you slide off of him, settling at his side with your head on his chest.

“I’m gonna fuckin marry you someday.”

You laugh, even though he doesn’t sound like he’s joking.

“Yeah? I think I’d like that. Then my underwear will stop going missing because we will live in the same house.”

You both started cracking up at that.

“I’m serious though, can I have some of them back? You really did steal all my best ones…” You looked up at him and pouted, giving him the look.

“That’s not gonna work the same now that I know you’re just using it against me…”

“You sure about that?” You stick your bottom lip out further and make your eyes even wider.

“Ugh, no. You’re still not getting them back though, I’ll buy you new ones.” He brings his hand up to push your hair out of your face and places a kiss on your temple.

“Why? So you can just take those ones too?” You tease.

“Nah, I have the real thing now. I’d rather take them off you.”

Tagging the bbs: @the-unforgivenn @lokis-army-77 @gravedigginbbydoll @bettyfrommars @eddiemunson95 @melodymunson @bangaveragewhitewine

[zeppelinlvr]

Two Reverse

Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Summary: You, Dean, and Sam go after a demon on short notice, you end up getting hurt in the process.

Felt sad, wrote angst sorry guys. Also, I know Andromalius is a higher up demon having 36 legions of demons at his service (I think?) and I know it's unlikely you’d be dealing with him as the process of even trying to summon him would be so complicated, but demonology is so complex just pretend him going after you is reasonable. Also i’ve been on an Adrianne Lenker kick lately so bear with me. Thank you all for the support on all my fics! 💗💗

Warnings: Angst (with a happy ending cus I can't write sad endings), cursing, fluff.

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You and Sam were desperately researching, trying to find out what demon was targeting these people, four had died already and the two of you had made little progress. Dean was out interviewing people and trying to get anything he could about what you were dealing with.

“Sam, I think I know what we’re dealing with” you told him “I looked into the victims and two of them were thieves, not just shoplifting, they broke into people's houses and stole valuable items, and two of the other victims were just assholes, they were both bullies in high school and were super entitled”

“I’m not following, how are they connected” Sam asked

“The demon Andromalius goes after people who are wicked and theives, he’s not in a lot of the common demonology books is probably why we hadn't made the connection sooner but he’s mentioned in The Goetia, the Lesser key of Solomon” You explained

“Best explanation we have, I’ll start looking into how to exorcize him” Sam replied

“I’ll call Dean and we can figure out a plan to draw him in” you told Sam.

Dean was headed back to the motel, having little luck with his interviews. He felt his phone buzzing in his pocket and saw your name as the caller id and the stupid picture you had taken of yourself and made your contact photo. He smiled at your dumb expression before answering the call.

“hey, I didn’t find-“ he started but was cut off by your quick rambling, you were excited to finally have figured out what you were dealing with.

You explained to Dean what you had told Sam, then asked “we need to figure out a way to lure him into us, Sam’s researching right now but I wanted to see if you had any ideas”

“Well, I’m a thief and I’m probably wicked so we could use me as bait, figure out how to get him near us, then I’ll distract him while you and Sam try to kill him” Dean suggested

Your stomach knotted at his plan, you didn’t want him to put himself in danger “Dean, I don’t want to use you as bait, we can think of something else” you said trying to hide the worry in your voice.

“I can handle myself sweetheart” he told you “I’m almost back to the motel, I’ll talk to you more then” he hung up the phone after you exchanged goodbyes.

As he said, Dean arrived in the motel room a couple of minutes later. you gave him a brief hug upon his arrival, not out of the ordinary, he got used to the fact you were touchier than him and he was okay with it, never admitting it but he enjoyed being hugged by you.

You explained Deans plan to Sam, making sure to comment on how bad of an idea you thought it was, hoping Sam would also immediately shoot it down.

“We might not have any other choice, I’m getting signs of him a few miles from here, we need to go now” Sam grimaced

You sighed, worry filling your body but you chose to push it away, frantically getting ready to leave with Dean and Sam.

Dean hurled to a stop in front of a mildly secluded house, when you stepped out of the car the three of you heard things breaking and screams coming from inside. You all quickly ran to the door, Dean not bothering to pick the lock but rather just choosing to kick it down.

The scene in front of you was horrific, there was a woman, who had already died, lying on the floor of the living room. You heard a struggle down the hall and Dean made his way there, signaling you and Sam to stay out of sight in order to try to get some element of surprise.

When Andromalius caught sight of Dean he dropped the man who he had nearly killed. Dean yelled out “I’m here you asshole, come get me”

“No, it’s not you I’m after” Andromalius hissed

Dean's expression faltered slightly but he tried his best to keep the demon distracted “I steal all the time, and I’m definitely not a good person” he shrugged

Sam had an opening to the demon, he figured it was now or never, so he ran out from the spot he was hiding in. He was stopped before he had a chance to stab the demon. Sam found himself pushed against the wall with a harsh force.

“Where’s the girl?” Andromalius said, a dark expression growing on his face.

Dean clenched his jaw, trying to hide his worry “She’s an angel compared to me, you don’t want her” he defended

You snuck your way out of your spot, and managed to grab the knife Sam had dropped. You had your arm in the air, ready to stab him when he quickly whipped around, smirking when his face met yours.

You felt a force choking you, and slowly lifting you off the ground, tears welled in your eyes and you desperately tried to kick and fight back.

Then the searing pain came, ripping through your abdomen. You choked out a scream and tears poured down your face, you tried to kick and claw at him as the panic truly set in about how this could end. You cried out as the strength left your body, your vision blurring.

Dean and Sam were both struggling with everything they had. Dean had managed to get ahold of the knife, and with Andromalius’s focus stuck on you, Dean stabbed him in his back.

The demon had been killed and you fell to the floor, his force no longer holding you up. You choked and gasped for air. You were a mess, crying and panic still coursing through you.

Dean ran over to you, kneeling beside you and cradling you in his lap.

“Hey, it’s okay sweetheart, you did so good” he tried to comfort, his voice shaking.

He quickly flung off his jacket, pressing it to your abdomen, you hadn’t noticed the severity of the cut from how panic stricken you were, but you were losing a lot of blood.

“Sammy call 911” Dean yelled at him

“you’re gonna be okay, just keep looking at me, okay” he told you, trying to keep you calm.

The pain of the gash was becoming more prominent as your adrenaline wore off, you felt yourself growing weaker.

“Dean, thank you for always looking out for me” you choked out, it hurt to speak but you needed to tell him “You and Sam are the best things to happen to me” you tried to hold back the stinging tears, a lump in your throat. “I love you so much Dean”

“Hey no, don’t give me a goodbye speech, you’re going to be okay” he said shakily, a few tears running down his face.

“An ambulance is on the way, keep applying pressure” Sam told Dean, as he made his way over to you, helping Dean support your body.

You fought so hard to keep your eyes open and to keep listening to Dean voice, his reassurance that you were going to be okay, it was just a scratch, and that you were so tough.

You fought so hard, but his voice was fading, you felt your eyes droop before your body went limp in Deans arms.

“nono fuck” he whispered “I still need you” “Someone fucking help” he was now yelling “Castiel, some fucking angel save her”

"Why the hell did it go after her, I'm the one it should've gone after" Dean sobbed

"Dean, demons don't exactly see a grey area, there's probably something that happened on a hunt and he found that as an excuse to go after her, don't start blaming yourself" Sam told him, a few tears slipping down his cheeks.

Sobs racked Deans body as he heard the familiar flutter of wings. He was instantly yelling at the angel “fucking help her, I’m not letting her die on me”

“Dean, she’s going to be okay” Cas said and made his way over to you, placing a gentle hand on your forehead and began to heal your wounds.

You opened your eyes groggily, after your vision cleared, you were confused at the sight of the angel above you and Dean and Sam’s tear-stained faces.

You quickly pulled your shirt up to inspect where the gash had been, only to find nothing there, although your clothing was still stained with blood.

You frantically scrambled up and engulfed Dean in a hug.

“Hi sweet girl, I told you you’d be okay” he choked out

You allowed yourself to cry, tears streaming down your face as you sobbed harshly.

Deans heart sunk upon hearing your pained cries, he was already blaming himself for not intervening sooner.

After it sunk in that Cas had saved you, you whipped around to face him, his face ridden with what seemed like concern. You moved over to him to hug him, still sobbing like there was no tomorrow. blabbering out your thanks to him. He didn’t exactly understand what was happening, but he attempted to hug you back, gently wrapping his arms around you.

“You’re okay now Y/n, that’s what matters” he told you

You nodded in response, trying to stop your crying but your attempts didn’t do much, you were so overwhelmed, you were scared, thankful, and a little embarrassed by your sappy speech.

You turned back to Dean “I’m sorry for getting cheesy, I thought I was gonna kick the bucket and I needed to tell you a few things” you laughed awkwardly, still lightly crying.

He shook his head and brought you back in for a hug “I uh, feel like, me too” he struggled, wanting to tell you he loved you but he couldn’t get the words out.

“I know Dean” you nodded

You heard a siren in the distance, none of you wanted to explain the situation. Cas was gone in an instant, you, Sam and Dean were quickly making your way to the door. Dean carrying you in his arms despite your insistence that you were able to walk.

Sam drove and you sat squished next to Dean in the passenger seat.

“Sammy, I promise I’ll give you a hug when we get back to the motel” you told him, your nose stuffed up from how much you’d be crying. Sam laughed lightly in response.

Dean pulled you into him, holding onto you tightly as if you were going to slip away from him, swearing to himself to watch out for you.

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[sunflowersteves]

another day, another dollar || b.b.

pairing || bradley “rooster” bradshaw x reader

summary || Is Rooster jealous that some random aviator won't stop looking at you? Definitely not.

author’s note || i'm so glad you guys enjoyed my last rooster fic!! i have so many ideas for rooster and i hope you guys enjoy this one! <3

warnings || jealousy, misogyny (not from rooster), fem!reader, some mention of violence, smut, oral sex, blowjob, praise kink, a little sub!bradley, [18+ only]

“Getting pretty busy, huh?” 

You turned your head around to the unfamiliar voice. You almost raised an eyebrow—he looked smug. “Yep.” You replied, short and sweet. 

You gave him a strained smile in hopes to keep up some customer service facade. You whirled back around to continue to pull the tap and fill up more beers.

He decided to talk to you again. “Think you can handle all this by yourself?”

At the Hard Deck on a buzzing Friday night, you were the only one tending to the bar. Ever since dusk peaked at seven-thirty in the evening, you had been busy refilling beers and taking orders—then occasionally ringing the bell when someone couldn’t pay their tab. 

Penny asked you for a favor when Amelia came home from school with a really bad case of the flu. You knew she felt bad enough leaving you alone on the busiest night of the weekend, but you didn’t mind. Not one bit. You had wished Amelia a speedy recovery. 

You were doing pretty well from the rush of Navy officers, lieutenants, captains, and everywhere in between asking for ales and lagers.

It had actually been somewhat fun chatting up conversations with people. Out of nowhere, though, this lanky twenty-something man stationed himself right in the front of the bar.

He had been staring at you for more than five minutes, and when you paid him no mind—since you were quite frankly busy with customers—he decided to strike up a mundane conversation. It was almost nauseating. 

When you had turned your head the first time, he had his elbow resting on the bar and twirled a pint of beer in his hand. He had a fresh face and flirty twinkling eyes that almost made you gag a little. You knew exactly what he was doing, and you weren’t interested. 

You could tell he was a Naval Aviator with the whole khaki color suit and hat on his head. You could also tell that by the looks of it that he’s new.

You didn’t spin back around, though, when he asked you that question. You didn’t want to give him any attention—hopefully, he will get the goddamn hint. 

“Think you can handle all this by yourself?” Gross. 

“I’ve been doing this for a while. I think I can handle it just fine.” You then turn to Coyote with the four beers he asked for—a genuine smile on your face. He thanked you kindly before sauntering back off to your group of friends by the pool table. 

“Really? I’ve never seen you in here before.” He locked eyes with yours before trailing down your figure and admiring the curves of your hips in tight jeans—a shudder of disgust ran through your body. “I would’ve remembered someone like you.”

Yeah, he was definitely new because if he saw the six-foot-four Top Gun aviator—the top one percent of fighter pilots in the world—that was glaring daggers into him, he would have shit his pants on the spot. You were sure he would never set foot in the Hard Deck again. 

You were Bradley’s, and Bradley was yours. Everyone in the vicinity of the bar knew that. You were always perched on his lap while he spread his skilled fingers across the piano. His arms were always wrapped around your waist as you destroyed Hangman in darts. You two practically couldn’t get your hands off of each other every second of the day. 

No one in their right mind would disturb the pure, raw love between the two of you.

Not tonight, though. Tonight, you were forced under the confinements of the bar area, giving this newbie the perfect opportunity to try and stake his claim.

“Maybe you’re the forgetful one, kid. I’m here every weekend.” You fought the urge to smile in victory when he gave an annoyed expression as the word kid left your mouth.

═ ∘◦❦◦∘ ═

“You gonna do something, Rooster?”

His eyes never left your cute irritated face. He watched you give the guy a one-worded answer with a mundane expression. As much as he wanted to give you the kiss of a lifetime, he stood back. “No.”

With Bradley’s answer, Jake was even more amused. “No? I’m surprised. I’d figure by now you’d be trailing over to her like some lost little puppy.”

Bradley bit his cheek to keep from snapping back. He knew that Jake was just giving him shit. He knew that he was just trying to get him all riled up.

It’s what Jake does. But he couldn’t let anything get to him, or he would trail over to you like some lost puppy. Hangman was undoubtedly and stupidly right. 

Jake’s eyebrows raise in surprise at the brooding silence. He expected some little quip and then a smack upside the head from Phoenix right next to him.

Damn, this must be really grinding Bradley’s gears. Jake almost felt guilty for his friend sulking in the corner of the Hard Deck.

“Don’t let Bagman get to you, Rooster. He’s just jealous that your girlfriend rejected him first.”

Phoenix grinned with a teasing smile, and Jake just grumbled to himself. At that, Bradley snorted and shook his head. He was still silent, but his demeanor had at least changed. All of the pilots smiled at Rooster’s shoulders relaxing just a smidge. 

Bradley hated feeling jealous—the angry green monster that sprouted in his chest and sat home in his head was relentless in its hold on him.

His heart always throbbed in his chest, and anger bubbled through his veins when some guy or girl gave you a bashing smile and feather-light touches to your shoulder.

He always stayed silent—brooding—as he watched you from afar. He never wanted you to feel like he didn’t trust you because he did. Oh, he did. He trusts you more than anyone else in the room, and he flies life or death with some of them. He would follow you to the ends of the earth if you had asked him to.

He figured it is most likely some unresolved tension from the tragedies that have struck during his thirty-five years of life, and anyone that wanted to take you away from him burned a hole in his chest.

So, to combat these ingrained feelings, he sat idly by as that guy’s hips were attached to the bar and watched you dodge every single flirtatious glance and awkward pick-up line. He knew you could handle yourself, and there was a whole gaggle of naval aviators that would stop at nothing to make sure you were doing okay. 

“Need another beer?” A peace offering. Jake was already standing up from the bar stool and about to make his way over to you.

He nodded solemnly. “Thanks, Bagman.”

═ ∘◦❦◦∘ ═

You looked bored. You looked so absolutely uninterested in this guy still speaking to you, and now, he was over-explaining how F-18 engines work and fly. You were a mechanical engineer. You knew how plane engines work. 

You tried to tell him you did, but he was quick to interrupt to continue telling you about how F-18s have more than one-hundred thousand horsepower.

If you didn’t respect Penny’s establishment and reputation, he would’ve been thrown out of the bar by now. Typical men with their typical egos. Though now that you think about it, you’re sure Penny would have encouraged it. 

Your eyes locked with Jake’s, and your eyes lit up at the familiar face. Finally, someone you actually enjoy talking to. Not that you would ever tell Jake that. 

“Need savin’ over here, hot shot?” Jake had interrupted the aviator and ignored the very irritated look that was sent his way. It was almost like the guy was insinuating that he had caught you—that you were going to be his tonight. The feeling of possession he exuded made you want to gag again. 

Jake could tell you wanted this shift to be over as soon as possible. Your eyes glanced at the random man staring at you before turning your attention back onto Hangman. “Nothing I can’t handle. How many beers?” 

“Two, please.” Jake smiled—cocky little shit. “I think you should go talk to your boyfriend over there. He’s been stewin’ for quite a while.” He paused, eyes sliding over to the stranger. “I could even help ya with the bar.”

You turn around to fill up the empty glasses that he handed to you. “Don’t I know it, Bagman.” It was like the aviator that had been hitting on you all night had disappeared—though, you wish. Just you making drinks while your friends entertained you. It was nice for a moment, actually. “I’m due for a break soon enough.” 

Jake spoke too soon, though, because Bradley was already making his way over to the bar. He couldn’t help himself when he saw the guy stare straight at your ass and bite his lip. The action made his blood seethe with vexation, so his feet started walking before his brain caught up.

“Boyfriend?” The guy looks shocked. His eyes were wide as he stared at you. “What the fuck? I’ve been trying all night, and you didn’t say a fucking thing?”

You pursed your lips. Irritated. “I did.”

“Huh?”

Rooster stood tall near the bar, watching the scene before him. He studied the menacing glare you struck at the guy and a hand resting on your hip.

“I told you multiple times when you were talking about damn plane engines that I have a boyfriend—who’s a naval aviator by the way. I’ve made it crystal clear.”

He didn’t miss a beat. The stranger’s eyebrows were furrowed in rage. He stood up from the bar in an irate stance. “You’re a fucking bitch. Do you go around eye-fucking all the guy's then?” His eyes move over to Jake’s.

“You allow your slut to do this, man?”

You, Jake, and Bradley all froze. The whole bar dulls out into silence from his loud gestures, and all eyes are on you four now. 

The audacity of this kid to insult and degrade you when all you were doing was listening to this guy talk and talk. You gave clear signs of being uninterested. Clear. Not to mention he also had the sheer audacity to make a scene in Jake and Bradley’s presence.

“The fuck did you just say?” You were almost in his face as you leaned over the bar—a hard glare set on him with your fueled anger. The grip you had on the bar counter was starting to ache, but you didn’t care. 

“Tame your fucking girl, would you?” Jake’s hands clenched by his side at the comment.

Bradley’s chest heaved up and down, and he could feel the burning emotion consume his entire body and soul. His hands were almost trembling by his side as his thoughts of tearing this asshole to shreds simmered inside his head. 

The guy scoffed. He tried to turn around to leave but was met with Bradley’s hard chest. Clearly, he had no idea what was coming.

Bradley was sweet—a kind, gentle soul. He has picked you up from your lowest and drew you back up. He has told you things about himself that not even he understands. Bradley Bradshaw was a good man—one of the best, you would even argue. 

However, he had a temper. Call it the jet fuel that was practically injected into his veins, but when that temper was pushed to the brim because someone fucked with you? Yeah, they should hope to be six feet under before Bradley could get to them. 

Bradley towered over him, almost making the guy tower down. He was seeing red—fully unsaturated rage at the disrespect toward you. The guy tried to regain some confidence, oddly enough. “Move out of my way.”

Bradley didn’t move—he didn’t even blink. His jaw clenched and unclenched. His eyes bore into the stranger to assess him. His hand twitched at his side as if it was gearing up to make a move. 

“Apologize. Now.” His voice was deep—it was gruff and hollow that immediately went straight to your chest. He didn’t look like the Bradley you knew, the Bradley that would carry you for three miles from a sprained ankle.

This Bradley looked menacing. This Bradley looked deadly. And you weren’t going to lie, it was hot as fuck. 

“Who the fuck are you?”

Bradley’s eyes flashed with something you were unfamiliar with. He has been jealous before, yes, but it has mostly been the reassuring kind. This was pure seething rage. His eyes were almost red from the amount of anger that pulsated through his body. 

“Apologize.” Bradley breathes out, but his eyes are digging into the man in front of him. “Or I will rip your fucking kneecaps off.”

Jake stood tall—back stretched out as he watched the interaction. He would spot for Bradley any day, especially to assholes like this random guy. He wanted to be ready for anything that could come Bradley’s way. 

The guy opened his mouth but quickly snapped it shut as Bradley took a step closer if it was even possible. He almost dared him too—almost wanted him to so Bradley could get in some punches that this guy deserved. 

“I-I-I’m sorry.” The guy tried to take a step back but was met with the bar counter. “I didn’t mean—”

“Not me.” Rooster pointed directly at you. “Her.”

He spins around faster toward you than you had seen a person spin in your life. “I-I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

He looks up to your boyfriend for approval, but Bradley’s eyes locked with yours. You nodded as a signal to your boyfriend that you were okay—things were okay. All you wanted was for this guy to leave and Bradley to be by your side again. It’s all you could think about.

Bradley’s eyes retreated back to the stranger, and you could have sworn that the guy almost flinched. “If I ever see you in here again, I will not hesitate. Do you understand?”

The aviator nods vigorously and tries to ignore the deadly glare from Bradley. His hands picked at his sides in nervousness. “Do you understand?” Bradley repeats.

The aviator’s eyes widened. “Y-Yes. I understand.” 

Bradley’s posture somewhat succeeds back into a relaxed form, his eyes already returning back to you in comfort and warmth. Every tipsy person located in the bar had shouted in celebration for kicking out the guy that ruined all the fun. Coyote and Fanboy unkindly escorted him out of the bar and threw him out onto the sandy beach. “Don’t fucking come here again.”

In the bar, everything and everyone had gone back to normal. People started laughing and smiling once more—shoveling more drinks into their mouths. Some even started racking the balls on the pool table and throwing darts.

For you, though, you couldn’t take your eyes off of Bradley. 

He was on you in less than a second, taking two full strides around the bar in desperation. His hands gripped your hips harshly and his lips collided against your own. Your back bumps into the bar, which causes the bottles of booze to rattle against the glass. 

His tongue is shoved into your mouth, and he groans deeply at the taste of beer. His nose harshly bumps against your cheek—messy and harsh with every swallow and molding of your mouth.

You almost whined into him. “Bradley.” Your breath fanned up against his cheeks, and his knees felt so fucking weak for you.

His body starts to sloppily drag you away from the bar and into the back corner of the Hard Deck. His lips never once left yours in a fury to feel you—to be inside of you at any and all cost. His hands make their way down the back of your thighs, and you instinctively jump. Your legs wrap around his torso as he continues to walk backward.

Jake rolled his eyes. “Yeah, sure. Go fuck like bunnies. I’ll man the bar, I guess.” But there was a hint of a small smile on his face. Finally, you two could cut the shit and fawn over each other once again. 

═ ∘◦❦◦∘ ═

Bradley pulls you into the supply closet near the break room at the back of the bar. His back hits one of the shelves, and you could hear the sound of cleaning bottles falling onto the floor. 

Neither of you could stop your fluttering hands that followed each other’s curves. Bradley’s lips trailed down your jaw and neck, which left you breathless and aching for more. Your body feels hot—and elated—from his calloused fingers digging into the flesh on your stomach.

“Bradley, please.” He thinks he knows what you are begging for. He wants to taste you on his tongue. He wants you creaming into his mouth until you’re so dumb that you don’t even remember your own name. 

To his chagrin, though, you stop the trailing hand that is trying to make its way between your thighs. “I wanna taste you, Bradley. I wanna swallow your cum.”

His eyes widened. “Fuckin’ hell—” Bradley breathes out, fast and light. He watches you sink down onto your knees and clumsily drag his shorts to pool around his ankles.

You weren’t very graceful from your pure desperation to have his cock in your mouth. Bradley didn’t mind, though. 

His cock jumped from the sight and thought of you in such a state of yearning. “Pretty baby.” He whispered, but it sounded more like a whine. 

Your lips trailed kisses around his thighs. “Do you know how hot it was to see you almost lose your shit on that guy?” Your words slurred together from the intoxication of his broad muscles and lips that were sucked in between his teeth.

You pull down his boxers and almost drool from his ruddy tip dripping in pre-cum. You lightly graze your fingers across his shaft and your mouth waters from his shaft twitching. Your eyes flickered up to see his reaction, his hooded eyes watching you pump his cock.

“You had been watchin’ me all night, Roo. I could feel it.”

He licked his lips. “He-He—” He moans your name. “F-Fuck. He-He can’t take you. I–” God, you’re so hot from your lust-filled eyes racking over his hopelessly hard cock. He withers in your grasp, and he couldn't help but say your name over again. 

“Oh, Roo, no. He can’t take me, hmm?” You hum out the last part of the sentence so your mouth can gravitate to the bulging vein on the side of his cock. “I’m fucking yours, Roo. I’m yours.”

You swirl your tongue and suck your lips around his tip. His hands latch themselves into your hair, and he tugs and tugs. How is he already so close to the edge?

You’re barely touching him, but he feels like he’s on cloud nine, and the knot in his stomach twists and pulls.

“F-Fuck, pretty baby, yeah. You’re mine. You’re mine.” He repeats the saying as his hips involuntarily hump your mouth. You gag around him and his cock shoves further deep into your throat.

You want to guide him to a sweet release for being such a good partner to you. He is yours. He is your Bradley. 

“Oh, fuck–fuck baby, please. My fuckin’ girl—yeah, yeah, yeah.”

He lowly groans out—deep, guttural, and sultry—while his cum paints the inside of your mouth. Thick ropes shoot into your mouth, and the salty taste made you salivate even more. Your eyes watch his hung-open jaw and his eyes trailing down to watch you suck around his cock. 

You swallow all that he has to offer, and you moan out his name while still stuffed with his cock. His eyes widened slightly at the action, and his heart swirled in his chest. How did he get so lucky with you?

You go to stand up and pull his pants back up, but he catches your hands.

“Oh, pretty baby, you aren’t leaving me so soon, are you?” His palm rests below the back of your neck and pulls you into him. His breath fans up against your cheeks, and he presses sweet kisses on your jaw, working his way up to your temple. 

“Roo, if you don’t fuck me right this minute—”

He chuckled. “Don’t worry, pretty baby, we’re jus’ getting started.”

[livelaughlovesubs]

Ermermerm soooo… can u plz do a lil fic where like, reader is a hardworking person and is like working a 9 to 5 job or wtv and one day they get yelled at by their boss and since reader is pissed they come home and takes the frustration out on Kunikida by fucking him HARD and goes on multiple rounds ermmmm…. THIS IS SO BAD IM SORRY ｡ﾟ(ﾟ´Д｀ﾟ)ﾟ｡

Ur fics r my girl dinner. Anywayz… luv u nini!! Thx 4 putting up with me ;3

- 🎀

No no no, it’s alright bae, I don’t mind. Your ideas are always so good too, I’ll work on the other ones soon, it might take a while but.. oh well

Dom!reader x sub!Kunikida

Reader is gender neutral

Warning: pegging (you can read it as strap or not, it’s not mentioned)

“Ugh, who does he think he is?!” You vented, seemingly annoyed. “Screaming at me like that, son of a bitch. Hey, kunikida, the fuck are you doing?” Your grip on his waist tightened, basically pinching him. He arched his back and yelped a little, “ah..! What are you- mhm, doing.” The male was riding you while you held him by the hips, giving him instructions and commands. “You are doing a horrible job, fuck it, I’ll do it.” Without giving him any warnings, you changed positions and got up, caussing him to fall onto his back.

“Ah, y/n?! I- UgH-Hngnn!” Kunikida gasped, now in the mating press with your arms forcing his legs to be raised to his chest. “You see I didn’t have a great day.” He moaned as he felt you deeper inside him, all thanks to this new position. “And I really don’t have any patience now.” Right before you started moving, his reached out to you, his shaking hands gently grabbed your arms. “P-please.. it’s the third round, I can’t do anymore…!”

That was the truth, he’s been riding you for a while now. Though just because that needy whore’s been pleased, doesn’t mean you were satisfied with his performance. “I’ve expected more from you.” You admitted with a cold gaze. Kunikida flinched as he saw your expression, shyly avoiding eye contact. He did kind of expect it, but it still surprised him when you suddenly started moving. Since he was stretched already due to the previous rounds, you were able to move faster from the start. Snapping your hips against his while panting slightly, using your anger as energy and his body as stress relief. “Ah-ahHhAa!” The Blondie cried out, tears rolling down his pretty face and decorating those flushed cheeks. His glasses were placed away on the nightstand, at a save distance. There were times were they broke during your sessions.

His body trembled with each thrust, he bit his lip to suppress those deliciously embarrassing moans he’d make. It was of no use though, because the pleasure was too overwhelming, so much that he was losing his mind. “What’s the problem, kunikida? You are normally so cool headed after all~” you teased him, not stopping with your relentless pounding. Fuck, you just loved that humiliated face of his. The way he shook underneath you, eyes pleading for your mercy, it was absolutely stunning. Like a drug to which you got addicted, and you couldn’t get enough of it.

“Ah- uHhh..! Y/n, y-y/n, MHmmm!” The man whimpered through clenched teeth, you always had to embarrass him like this and he was never able to get used to it. What happened at your work this time? One day he was definitely going to kill that boss of yours. Since when you get furious over them, in the end, he’s always the one to suffer. “What are you thinking about, getting distracted like this?” Your question pulled him out of his day dream, startling him a little. He wasn’t even able to respond before you considered it unnecessary and moved even rougher. Taking away from the speed and instead focusing on reaching deep inside him.

Kunikida could swear he saw stars, the way his entire body tingled each time you touched him was rendering him to a mess. He was getting closer to the edge, his legs wrapped around your waist to keep you closer. You felt a shiver down your spine, he was too cute when like this. “Ah.. ughh, y/n..!” The male groaned again, he used all his strength to whisper a warning but the words didn’t want to come out, “I’m- mhHmm! C-close..” it was just too much for him to handle, he was already sensitive from the previous rounds. It’s not his fault you feel so good.

You didn’t slow down, there was no need for it. Watching him all twitchy and messed up like this was your favourite thing to do after all. He clenched around you as he came, leaking his cum all over his belly. It dripped down his shaft in an erotic way, all the way to his hole, soaking his thighs and the bed. “Uh..HhhMM.!! Ga-gahhhHh..” a chocked out moan slipped from him, lasting until he finished his load. Some tears rolled down the sides of his face, or maybe it was sweat? He looked at you with trembling eyes, a hint of need and undeniable ecstasy present. “Good job.” You praised him, before turning him around onto his belly, licking your lips as you did. “Let’s keep doing that until you forget my name~” Those desperate eyes turned into one of fear and curiosity soon, he just pressed his face against the pillow as he let you do whatever you wanted. What a good little stress relief~

(Tag: @nvllxiety)

[ghostssweetgirl]

Hii!! I just wanted to say i love your work and i had a request 😋

could you write a fic (or hc) where ghost finds the fem!readers sh scars? like she’s sitting in between his legs and he’s holding her thighs and he feels the scars. he asks her to show him and she explains (she’s a little insecure cause she thinks he’ll judge her but he doesn’t) them and he makes her promise that she’ll come to him for help??

(if this makes you uncomfortable please don’t feel the need to write it🙏🏼)

Omg thank you sm <3 also on another note to those reading this (followers or not), I’ve been on and off on here. I’m getting to a point where I can start writing semi-often again. If you go a little further down my blog, I’m also about to start another series (it’s planned and 0% written).

It’ll be short-ish, but yeah, I’ll give it a shot.

If you didn’t read all of the above, this will contain mentions of self harm and bodily scars and mentions of non-specified trauma.

Minors do not interact

You were unwinding with Simon at the end of the night, in between his legs on the ground looking up at the night sky.

It’s been comfortably silent. Not needing much words to help each other decompress after the recent missions you’ve been assigned. Your back against his chest, his calloused fingers softly rubbing against your arm that rested on his leg.

“Y’ a’right, luvie?” He spoke softly. “Anythin’ goin’ on in that pretty lil head?”

You smile, and think about it. You take a deep breath. In all honesty you couldn’t even think of where to start. You don’t know if you’re okay. But you feel okay right now. That’s all that matters. You finally decide, and quickly shake your head. “Mm-mm. No, I’m good. And you? Are you okay?”

He sighed, his hands tracing the top of your thighs. He plays with the fabric of your shorts for a moment and rests his chin on your shoulder. “No, ‘m fine. Fine right here.”

You close your eyes and your thumb rubs small circles against his wrist, his hands’ movements slow as you feel him gently soothing over an arrangement of scars on your thigh. Some deep and overlapping each other. Some light. You shudder and hold your breath for a moment.

It was part of the reason you joined the military. The hell you had to face in your former life essentially pushed you over the edge. And it was the only thing that felt like a proper release.

You didn’t want to talk about it, really. Even though you were safe with Simon. You didn’t want to feel the shame of being judged. If anything, you knew if anyone understood, he definitely would.

But it’s still not your favorite conversation.

Ugh.

He studied them for a while, tilting his head. Not in a judging way, you managed to take a look and saw his once stoic gaze become soft, almost pained. His brows furrowed as he cleared his throat.

“Can…” he gently scoots away from you, caressing your shoulders as you lean up and hesitantly meet his eyes. “Can you show me?”

You sigh, holding your hands over the area. “I… I don’t really…”

You stutter and ramble, unable to get the words you want out.

“It’s a’right, I’ve got you,” he cupped your cheek.

You turn more towards him, enough to where he can see, thank god for the dark sky, the moon light was enough for him to get a general idea and look over without him seeing the anxiety on your face. He held your thigh, and leaned down to press a gentle kiss against your scars.

You were completely froze at this point, not in a bad way. His reaction was a lot less… well, you don’t know what you expected because you would have avoided this if you had the choice.

“It’s… from my past, and—”

“You don’t have to tell me what you don’t want,” he comforts you, pulling you to his chest.

“But what I do want,” he looks down at you. “I need you t’promise me you’ll come to me when you need help or anything. Anything. Anytime. Okay?”

“Please.”

It wasn’t like him to beg. But he needed you to be safe. Safe from bad people, from the horrors of the world and from the horrors of your own demons.

You nod your head in agreement. “Okay.”

He grunts approvingly, his grip on you even tighter now and it goes back to silence just like before. The least you could do in return is offer him the same he does to you, so you cup his cheek, cradling his face as you whisper to him.

“And you come to me for anything. Okay?”

His eyes close in relief as he rests his forehead against yours and if his embrace wasn’t tight before, it’s almost a death grip now as both arms squeeze your whole body, a silent ‘thank you’.

—

[verstappenf1lecccc]

Gimme.....Fernando x Mermaid!Reader

3035 Characters 550 words

this is the most random request I’ve ever gotten idek know where i got this idea from but do enjoy this is my first nando fic!!

Fernando's obsession with mermaids started at a young age, the age of 16, the typical teenage hormone-induced age, where everything and anything could make a lad horny. It wasn’t until Fernando saw a mermaid documentary that his thoughts of erotica surrounding them started to wander, something about the unknown nature of mermaids enticed him.

It was almost like a taboo, only for him to secretly indulge in. He’d once mentioned his interests in mermaids to his mates and they just laughed him off, saying that mermaids were not real and that if he wanted action that bad, he should just invest in a flashlight and let his thoughts wander.

It wasn’t until he got a little bit older and started focusing more on his career that he saw the first signs of mermaids actually existing.

He thought he was delusional and that his mind was playing tricks on him. Perhaps his thoughts of an interaction with mermaids really were taking over his brain, leading him to find anything and everything related to mermaids real.

Fernando really thought he was going crazy. He’d heard the stories from local fishermen who were at sea for ages and how they had seen and one bold man even claiming how he’d actually had sex with one of them. Fernando knew better than to believe them and made it a vow that he’d give up his mermaid fantasies.

That realization only came after he’d asked one of his one-night stands to dress up like a mermaid while having sex with him. He'd even gone ahead and got the girl flippers and the whole ensemble. That same girl used the flippers to whack Nando and call him a freak. He knew if this got leaked to the public, his career would be over.

Fast forward to the middle of June and the Spanish heatwaves really got Fernando thinking about his little taboo kink. He had decided to take his boat out and just clear his head; he’d find a quiet little spot and park his boat, letting his mind wander here and there. He’d been used to the little creeks and slight changes in the water direction, just blaming it on wind direction and tide changes.

What he would not expect even in his wildest dreams was that there was a mermaid sitting right on his boat. She was stunning; everything Fernando could have imagined.

Her hair was cascading down her back, and her eyes gleamed under the setting sun. Fernando didn’t know what to do; he didn’t want to startle his precious fantasy, but he really wanted to get close to her. He mentally made a note to get his fisherman friend the biggest export deal in the country because it was him who had told Fernando to dock where he had docked.

Fernando didn’t even have the chance to decide if he should make a move or not; his mermaid lover made the choice for him. She lunged forward to capture his lips and, coincidentally, his heart as well.

The kiss was intense; every single perverted thought Nando had couldn’t even come close to how good it finally felt when she made contact with him, and that’s when he knew that land or sea, they would be together for the rest of their days.

[spookyscarydemonbabe]

Near Death

A/N- Merry Christmas Eve to those of you that celebrate 🖤 i feel like i’m definitely posting this too late but it’s the first fic i’ve finished in a WHILE and i miss writing so much 😭

Summary- Eddie’s been trying all summer to get your attention, and he’s planning on getting it by any means necessary. Even if that means putting himself in danger.

Genre- Hurt/comfort (i think?), fluff

Warnings- mentions of drowning, CPR, giving mouth to mouth

Tag List- @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @munsonology @esme-viridian @gvf23 @wheels-of-despair

Word Count- 3.9k

“You can’t be serious…” Jeff said to Eddie, a shocked expression on his and the other boys faces as they approached the lake.

“Oh, i’m serious,” Eddie smirked as they started to hear the shouts and laughter as they saw the edge of the sand, “and it’ll work.”

“Yeah, but the only downside is that you could die.” Gareth laughed.

“That’s a sacrifice i’m willing to make.”

Over the summer, Eddie and the boys decided they might as well put their free time to good use over summer break and volunteer to help out at the local summer camp. Not because they wanted to, but because it was basically the only place that would let them to as little work as possible and still have all of them on the same off days. Not to mention, Eddie got to see a lot more of you there.

He didn’t think girls like you were interested in volunteering at summer camps, but that first day he saw you down by the lake, sitting at the end of the pier, lathering sunscreen on your body in your little red bathing suit keeping watch over the campers and counselors as they jumped and splashed in the water.

He wanted you so bad. If only he could get your attention.

You’d smile and wave at him in passing just like you did with all the others at camp, but Eddie always let his gaze linger on you just a little longer afterwards. He didn’t know what it was, but something about you just made him so eager to break open your quiet shell and see the real you.

You weren’t the type of girl to be rude to any of the other counselors, for the most part everyone liked you quite a bit. You were just quiet, kept to yourself, but you were confident in your loneliness. You were never seen with any of the other cliques of counselors, and you liked it that way.

Eddie and the boys found a small area to place their towels and clothes on the sand, of course with the perfect view of you at the end of the pier.

“So let me get this straight,” Grant started as him and the boys stripped down to their swim trunks, “you’re going to pretend to drown so that (y/n) can ‘save you’ and do the whole mouth-to-mouth thing? You’re going to kill yourself for a kiss that isn’t even a kiss?”

Eddie shrugged as he pulled his hair back,

“Yep, pretty much.”

“I think this is the dumbest idea you’ve ever had…” Jeff smirked.

“Fine. But when it works, you can all go fuck yourselves.” Eddie said with a smile, rolling his eyes as he separated himself from the group.

They all shook their heads in disbelief, not sure wether they should laugh or be worried about this idiotic scheme. Either way, it was going to be awful fun to watch.

Eddie slowly approached the pier, making sure to keep out of the way of the campers running to jump off the side into the designated deep end. Everyone knew that past the pier was a drop off, going down almost 20 feet with god knows what resting at the bottom of the lake. He knew that if he wasn’t careful with his plan, he’d be stuck down there too.

He could feel his palms get sweaty as he got closer and closer to you, hearing your giggle as you watched the kids do their weird stunts to get your attention as they jumped off the pier.

You were laid back, your legs dangling off the end with your toes in the water as your arms ere outstretched behind you to keep you held up, hair down, sunglasses over your face. You could feel his presence behind you and smiled to him as he approached closer,

“Hi Eddie.” You said to him with a smile.

“Hey (y/n).” He smiled back, looking down at you and hoping your sunglasses could hide your eyes well enough not to see the pink on his cheeks, “How are you?”

“Good.” You said with a giggle, taking little glances back and forth between him and the kids splashing in the water, “You?”

“Good.” He smiled, obviously a bit nervous, though even he wasn’t sure if it was because he was with you or because he knew he would be faking his own death within the next 10 minutes. “Do you mind if i sit with you?”

You shook your head and moved to the side, giving him a little more room to sit at the edge of the pier with you,

“I don’t mind. Scared of the deep end?” You joked, giggling as he took his seat next to you, his feet in the water next to yours.

“‘Deep end’, what, it’s maybe 6 feet?” He watched another kid run and jump into the water next to him, a few drops of water landing onto your legs.

“Just about.” You turned your head, looking at the water past the rope blocking off the drop off, “It gets really deep over there though, i think close to 20 feet.”

“Damn, really?” Eddie slowly stood back up and stepped carefully over to the end of the pier, nervous, but ready to put his plan into action.

“Be careful!” You told him sternly, “It drops off almost as soon as the pier ends.”

“Really?” Eddie slowly leaned over, peeking over the edge with a smirk on his lips, “Doesn’t look that deep-“ Eddie cut himself off with a shout, not expecting his plan to go awry.

He had planned everything out from start to finish. Sitting next to you at the pier, having a little chat, falling into the deep end and having you dive in and rescue him, pulling him back onto shore and giving him the kiss of life. He didn’t expect a kid to slip up on the pier behind him and push him into the lake.

The fall caught him off guard, and as soon as he hit the water it was like every thought he’d ever had about swimming had completely left him.

You gasped as you watched Eddie disappear beneath the murky water, quickly consoling the kid that ran into him, assuring him that you knew it was an accident before yelling for all the other kids lined up to do their jumps to get off of the pier. The other counselors on shore called the kids back into their groups to do a head count.

You stood at the end of the pier and tossed off your sunglasses, jumping into the water after Eddie.

It was cold, murky, and you knew it was bad for your eyes to keep them open underwater but you didn’t care. All you needed to do was get him back up safely. Thank god he wore the trunks with the yellow flowers on them.

You quickly swam down to him, grabbing his arm and keeping a tight grip on it as you swam back up towards the surface.

As soon as you broke the surface of the water you swam to the end of the pier, doing your best to lift him up onto the end with the help of the few counselors that came to your aid,

“Pull him up,” You said as you caught your breath, climbing back up as they lay Eddie out onto your towel, “lay him on his back.” You crawled over beside Eddie, pushing back the counselors to give you some room.

A wave of anxiety rushed through your veins as you looked down at Eddie. No movement, no motion. It was terrifying.

You didn’t want to lose someone like him.

“Eddie?” You spoke softly to him as you knelt at his side, “Eddie can you hear me?”

No response.

You reached your hand out to his neck, feeling for his pulse for a moment, but there was nothing.

Your instincts moved you quickly, both hands clasped together on his chest, pushing back and forth, up and down at a constant and quick rhythm. With every 30 pulses you would put your ear to his chest, listening for a heartbeat, but after the third round you knew that it wasn’t helping much. He needed to breathe.

You moved quickly, tilting his head back and moving your hands to keep him stable, one hand holding beneath his chin to keep his mouth open while the other held his nose shut. Everyone was crowded at the beach as they watched you work, eerily quiet. You couldn’t imagine how Eddie would feel after it was all over.

You took a few quick breaths before leaning down to him, your mouth over his, trying so hard to break that barrier and push the air back into his lungs, swapping back to chest compressions after each breath, hoping and praying that one of them would be the one to bring him back to consciousness.

It was agonizing, and though you couldn’t tell how much time had gone by since you started, it was like time stood still. You weren’t stopping until you knew Eddie was back, until you knew he was safe.

With one final breath, you leaned down and pushed the air into his lungs, thankfully for the last time.

You felt his body jerk beneath yours and turned him onto his side, and you’d never been so relieved to see him coughing up the water that was held in his lungs.

He was gasping for air, taking deep breaths as he slowly moved onto his back, and you could hear the crowd of campers and their respective counselors applauding as a few of them rushed to quickly move Eddie back off of the pier and down to the first aid cabin. At least he’d be safe there.

You stood up with him as two of the counselors slung his arms over their shoulders, propping him up and walking him carefully back to camp. Your hand never left his the whole way back, and though he still wasn’t strong enough to speak, you could feel him gently squeeze your hand in his. Almost as if he was trying to say ‘thank you’.

You stayed by his side the whole walk to the first aid cabin, but Eddie stayed silent. You couldn’t tell if he was still in shock, embarrassed, or scared of the whole ordeal. And you wouldn’t blame him if he was.

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

It had been a few hours since the incident, and by this point everyone had nearly forgotten about the ordeal from earlier.

The kids were playing their last few games outside before getting ready for bed, their counselors were either keeping an eye on them or getting the cabins ready, but you and the boys had been worried sick about Eddie.

He hadn’t spoken a word since the pier earlier, at least not to you, and it scared you to death not knowing how he was. All the camp nurse said was that he needed rest, he didn’t have any brain damage from the lack of oxygen but he would have some chest pains from the constant compressions, other than that he would be completely fine within the next day or so. Still, you worried for him.

The boys were nice enough to keep watch over him to let you head back to your cabin and change out of your bathing suit, and you were more than grateful to finally be back in your ugly camp uniform.

As for right now, you each were sitting quietly outside the first aid cabin, just waiting for any word from the nurse that it would be alright for you to go in and see him again. You knew he needed rest, you just didn’t expect him to nap for this long.

“You think he’s just not able to talk or something?” Jeff asked no one in particular.

“Maybe?” You said back, “He could still be in shock from the whole thing.”

“From over 5 hours ago?” Grant chimed in.

“I don’t know… I just hope he’s alright.”

You fidgeted with the ends of your shorts, just needing to keep yourself occupied while you waited for the nurse to tell you he was talking again. It’s what you were all waiting for. And it was like agony to not know how Eddie was.

You never would’ve considered you to be close with one another, you weren’t necessarily friends per se, you usually saw him with his group of campers like all the other counselors and you showed him the same kindness you show to everyone else. You’d heard of his reputation from a few of the other girls, but he didn’t seem anything like how others would describe him.

Eddie and his friends were just normal teenagers. They were great with the kids, they goofed off on their off days, they did all the same things that every other teenager did and you could see through that tough exterior that they were all just big kids too. And you admired that about them.

As soon as you heard the door creak open, your heads shot up, seeing the nurse peering out from it,

“He’s feeling a bit better, you can come in and see him if you like.”

Without any hesitation, the four of you stood up from your chairs and rushed to get in to see him, and though Eddie was definitely looking better, he was definitely still a little shaken up from the incident. The boys huddled at the sides of the little bed Eddie was laying on and you took the empty chair next to the bed, looking down at him with a little smile, but you could see that his eyes were still slightly shut.

“Hey man, how you feeling?” Grant asked.

“A little sore in the chest, and it hurts a little to talk and breathe but the nurse said that i should be fine in a day or two.” Eddie shrugged, giving you all a slight smile to show that he was alright.

It was a small gesture, but it definitely made you all feel better about his condition.

“Are they gonna send you home?” Gareth asked.

“They said it was all up to me. The nurse said i wasn’t out long enough to cause any brain damage, and i don’t feel like there’s any damage up there, so i’m going to stick around.”

“Did they call Wayne and tell him what happened?” Jeff chimed in.

“Yeah, they called him as soon as an ambulance got here. The paramedics talked to him on the phone for a bit to explain it all, and i’d prefer them explain it to him rather than me telling him about it, he’d kill me…”

You looked over and saw the boys snickering at the end of the bed, and you furrowed your brows in confusion, knowing that you were clearly missing some piece of this puzzle.

“What do you mean?” You asked him, and as he turned to you, you could see his face go white.

“We’ll give you some space and let you talk it out.” Gareth said, him and the other two slowly making their way out of the first aid cabin, but you could see Eddie making eyes at them just begging to stay.

You looked to him as soon as the door closed,

“Why were they laughing? What happened that i don’t know about?”

Eddie was silent, and his gaze moved from yours to down into his lap, a look of shame on his face followed it.

“Eddie, you could’ve died, this is serious. What happened?”

He groaned to himself, knowing that he had to tell you at some point. And he’d rather have him tell you than one of the guys.

“You have to promise you won’t be mad…”

A little smile came to your lips hearing the familiar line said to you by so many campers after sneaking a bucket of frogs into their cabin or trying to sneak off to the lake for a swim,

“I won’t promise you anything, but if you tell me the truth i won’t be as mad. Depending on what it is you did.”

Eddie took a deep breath, his hands wiping over his face to knock him back into reality.

“Ok, um…” You could hear his voice trembling, and carefully reached out to hold his hand as it lay back at his side.

“Just tell me Eddie, please.”

He looked up into your eyes, and though he was terrified to tell you the truth, he knew he needed to.

“I like you (y/n). i like you a lot… And i had this stupid plan where i thought it would be a good idea to pretend to drown so you could save me and i’d get the chance to kiss you. It was the dumbest thing i could think of and i didn’t think it could go wrong but… I didn’t think of how scary it would be if something did go wrong.”

Your eyes widened, but no words could come to mind for describing how you felt. You sat back in the chair and your hand slowly slipped from his as you stared at the wall in front of you, and you could tell that your reaction wasn’t one he was expecting, but it wasn’t one you were expecting either.

He had the best intentions, you knew that for a fact, but the fact that he decided to do something as idiotic as pretending to drown just for a little bit of affection from you took you back. You weren’t angry, you were upset, but angry wasn’t the word for it. But it did hurt your feelings that he felt his best course of action was to pull a stunt like this just to get something as small as a kiss from you.

“You know…” You started, your eyes slowly moving to look down at your hands in your lap, “I think that’s the dumbest thing any guy has ever done to get my attention.”

Eddie pursed his lips and looked down in shame.

“But, i will say,” You sighed and looked up to him with a small, reassuring smile, “i don’t think you meant for it to go this way. I know you had good intentions Eddie, but it was a stupid idea, what made you think you had to do something like pretend to drown to get my attention?”

Eddie shrugged, eyes still down in his lap, unsure of what to say.

Scratch that.

He knew exactly what to say. He just didn’t want to make it any worse for himself. The one thing he wouldn’t want to do was end the day with not only a near death experience, but with you hating him too.

“I don’t know… And i’m sorry. I think it was just my boy brain convincing me that in order to grab people’s attention i have to pull these idiotic stunts, without thinking about what could go wrong… I’m sorry for putting you through that, and i understand if you hate me, but i do like you (y/n). I think the rejection scared me so much i put everything else in the back of my mind just to be able to talk to you without being scared to…”

His boy brain was definitely to blame for this.

And it was unfortunate that you wanted so badly to be mad at him, you would’ve been just as angry had anyone else pulled a stunt like this, but you just couldn’t find that anger.

Something inside you was trying so hard to bring up that anger, but seeing how guilty he felt somehow pushed it back down.

His apologetic puppy dog eyes, his pursed lips keeping him from saying anything else to keep his position from getting any worse, the boy nearly died and yet he was still profusely apologizing for what he did. His guilt somehow made it better.

But you couldn’t stand to see him so shaken up and not offer him any kind of comfort.

You slowly leaned forward, one arm wrapping around his shoulders as the other draped over his chest, your head resting on top of his in a soft embrace. His hands carefully moved up from his lap, gently holding onto the arm over his chest. You couldn’t see his face, but you could tell there was a smile tugging at his lips.

“Don’t let this hug fool you, i’m still angry at you.” You loosened your arms around him, lifting your head and carefully looking down to him.

“I know.” Eddie said as he looked up to you, “You have every right to be.”

You smiled down to him, reassuring him that though you were angry now, there was definitely going to be an opportunity for him to make it up to you.

“I’m just glad you’re ok.” You slowly leaned your head down, placing a gentle kiss onto his forehead. You could’ve sworn you felt him tense up as soon as your lips touched him.

It was quiet for a moment between both of you, but it was a comfortable silence. Eddie wanted to say something, anything, but he felt that for now he would enjoy the silence with you.

He could ruin your moment with his big mouth another time.

You both heard a gentle knock on the door to the little room you were in, and you both looked up to it to see the boys once more.

“Alright if we come in?” Grant asked, peeking his head in through the door.

“Yeah, go right ahead.” You said with a smile, slowly standing from the chair you were sitting in and straightening out the little gym shorts you had on, “I was going to head out and check on my kids, see how they’re doing after all that.”

The boys made their way back into the room, and you could see a few snacks hidden in their hands and some cans of pop from the vending machines hidden not all that well in their pockets. And you couldn’t tell which one of them it was, but you could definitely recognize the smell of weed on one of them as they walked past. You smiled to yourself. Eddie definitely needed something to help calm his nerves after that, and weed sounded like the perfect remedy.

“I’ll see you guys later. I hope you feel better soon Eddie.” You smiled to them and gave them a polite wave goodbye, shutting the door behind you. Though you could hear them talking as soon as you heard the door click.

You couldn’t exactly make out who was saying what but you could definitely hear them talking about you. And you figured it the perfect moment to finally make the situation about you.

You peeked your head in through the door and the boys all turned to you,

“And Eddie? If you wanted to kiss me so badly, you could’ve just asked.”

You gave him one last smile and figured it was right time for his friends to see him red faced.

You were certain that for the rest of the summer, the two of you would be the talk of camp. But it didn’t bother you much.

What’s so bad about having a rumor about yourself and a hot guy?

You were just hoping he wouldn’t pull anymore dumb stunts to get your attention. All he needed was to be himself.

It’s the only thing you’ve ever wanted.

(this was written for my summer camp AU event, if you’d like to request a fic or HCs for it please let me know! 🖤)

[roseghoul26]

Part 4

Arthur Morgan x f!Reader

"'Do you love me?' You asked, voice barely louder than a whisper.

Arthur nodded, gazing at you like you hung the moon and the stars.

'Then say it. I promise you, nothing bad is gonna come from it.'"

Synopsis: A retelling of the mission "Blessed are the Peacemakers", where instead of Arthur getting kiddnapped, it's you.

Tags: fluff, friends to lovers, eventual smut, smut, torture, mentions of sexual assault, no actual SA, dutch is father figure, so is hosea, arthur morgan deserves everything, fem reader, afab!reader, she/her pronouns used for reader, not beta read

Author’s Note: this part is the smut part, with some story too. i struggled with this chapter cause i’ve only written smut like twice so here we go lmao.

next fic i’m thinking of doing javier or charles (loml), and i have different ideas for both. and i’ll def. write for arthur again, and feel free to send requests or ideas (or literally send whatever i love getting messages)

Taglist: @photo1030

part 1 ❉ part 2 ❉ part 3 ❉ part 4

And it was a long ride, done in silence as the two of you made it to the meetup place. The cowboy occasionally looked over his shoulder at you, but other than that there was little interaction. There was tension between the two of you that was on the cusp of snapping into a million pieces, but there was nothing you could do about it right now. Mustering what patience you had, and also pushing down your desires, you made your way to Emerald Ranch. 

Lenny arrived a short while after you and Arthur, sweaty and anxious, but thankfully alive. And he wasn’t followed, so you thanked the universe that luck was on your side that day. 

After meeting up, you’d sold the stolen goods to the fence, and with the combined cash you’d pick up, the three of you had a nice haul of about 750 dollars. After everyone received their cut, there was almost 400 dollars left to donate to camp, which you stuck in the box with a proud smile. Not bad for your first job back, you thought. 

Dutch seemed to think so too, complimenting you as you wrote in the ledger. “How we managed to survive those weeks without you, I’ll never know. Thank you, dear.”

You just shrugged. “Don’t mention it. And you can thank Arthur for keepin’ us afloat.”

Dutch didn’t say anything to that. Instead, he lit a match for his cigar, moving so his back was facing his tent as he smoked. Now facing you, you saw him in your peripherals observing you as you finished writing, letting the ink dry before closing the book. Not appreciating his staring, you questioned him with a look. 

“Take Arthur to Saint Denis to… look for leads. Yeah, go look for leads.”

“Huh? Right now?”

“That’s what I said, right? I’ve heard that the hotels ‘round there are brimming with opportunities. And take as much time as you need, if you catch my meanin’.” He gave you a wink, but you continued to stare at him like he grew a second head. “You’re smart, dear. You’ll figure it out. Now go, before I change my mind.” He dismissed you with a wave, staring out at the open water as you left.

“Oh… o-okay?” You were halfway to your tent when it dawned on you: Dutch was giving you permission to leave camp for a bit, which was convenient, to say the least. You turned to thank him, but he seemed lost in thought, so you saved it for later. “Make sure Lenny gets sent out too,” you still shouted out, hoping that Dutch heard you. 

Entering your tent, you found Arthur already there, which was no surprise. He had practically beelined there after you all arrived at camp, barely giving you a passing look. You hadn’t given it much thought at the time, but when you saw him hunched over as he sat on the edge of the bed, knuckles white as he gripped the edge of the cot, you immediately became concerned. Racing through your thoughts, you tried to remember if it seemed like he was in pain earlier. It wouldn’t be unlike him to get injured and then hide it. 

Rushing to his side, you were on your knees as you looked at him, scanning his body for any blood or obvious injury. When you found nothing, you looked into his eyes which you found closed. “Love? What’s wrong? Are you alright?” you asked, brushing back some of the hair that had fallen in his face, his hat discarded somewhere nearby. His cheeks were rosy too, you noticed.

When he opened his eyes, you were startled to find how dark they were, and he stared through you. “Shit, did you hit your head?” You moved to stand and examine his head further, but a gentle hand on your shoulder had you sinking back down to your knees. 

“I’m alright,” his voice was strained. Arthur didn’t provide any more details, and you heard him let out a huff of air when your hands rested on his knees, your face only a few inches away from them as you peered up at him. 

“Then what’s goin’ on, Arthur? You’re scaring me.” He placed one of his hands atop yours, fingers shaking slightly from the strain of gripping the cot. It tickled when he started dancing his fingers across the skin, but you kept your face still as you watched him. 

“Oh, princess. You’ve got no idea what you do to me, do you?” His voice was breathy, barely audible to you as his hand stilled. Finally, his eyes focused on yours, growing impossibly wider when he realized the position you were in. “Here,” he extended a palm up, offering you to put your hand in his. When you did, he kissed the back of it gently, before bringing it right above his heart and pressing it to his chest. Even through his shirt, which you had just noticed he had a few more top buttons unbuttoned, you could feel his heartbeat, which was beating like the speed of a hummingbird’s wings. 

Suddenly things started making a whole lot more sense with the dilated pupils, heavy breathing, and his sporadic heartbeat. Immediately your concern was replaced with something less selfless, a hungry need growing in you as you took in Arthur being in such a state, and all because of you.

“Since last night, I can’t stop thinkin’... and ever since the house it’s gotten worse. I can barely look at you without remembering the way you felt… and you’ve got me so damn turned on I can’t function.” His voice turned into a growl at the end, and you felt yourself pressing your thighs together, trying to ease the growing tension building between them from his confession. God, everything felt warm. 

Arthur didn’t miss the movement, as subtle as you tried to be. With a knowing grin, he pressed one last kiss to your hand before setting it back on his knee. “It took everythin’ in me to not take you right there in that house,” he said it so casually that you almost didn’t register what he said. Your grip on his legs tightened, and you found yourself sitting up straighter on your knees, now at chest level with him. 

“I would’ve let you,” you confessed, and Arthur moved closer to you, almost touching his lips with yours. Slowly, just like Arthur had done to you, you brought your hands up his thighs. You felt them tense under your touch, and you heard Arthur let out a little noise as your hands traveled up.

And up. 

And up until they rested at his belt, and you toyed with the loopholes as he started down at you. You could feel his breathing grow rapid, huffs of warm breath against your face. As you halted, you heard him groan. “You want me to touch you?” It was a redundant question, but you asked anyway. 

Arthur swallowed. “Yes.” He tried to press his lips against yours, but you kept your head far enough away. The hands on hips helped him stay put, and you relished in the fact that he could easily break free from your “hold”, but he didn’t.

“Then tell me. Tell me what you’ve been thinking of.”

You saw his blush extend past his face and down his chest. “That… it ain’t proper.”

You chuckled at that. “Since when do we care about what’s proper, Arthur?”

“I suppose we don’t,” he agreed, and he relaxed some. A few moments passed, then he was resting his head against yours. “You want me to tell you, or show you, princess?”

“Why not both?”

“Can’t do that.”

“Can’t, or won’t?” You pestered, a teasing grin on your face.

“I can’t, cause there ain’t gonna be much talkin’ when my head’s between your thighs.”

Whatever rebuttal you had died instantly in your throat. “Oh,” was all you were able to get out, your mouth growing suddenly dry at Arthur’s boldness, and that tension growing was starting to become unbearable. 

“Oh?” He mocked, laughing when you softly slapped him on his leg.

“Shuddup,” you rolled your eyes. Placing your hands back on his thighs, you felt the thick muscles there, built from years of a hard life and survival. “Tell me more,” you asked, moving your fingers closer and closer to the zipper of his jeans, looking down at your task at hand. Your face flushed when you saw the very noticeable bulge between his legs. 

“You never answered my question,” you felt rough, calloused fingers under your chin, which gently brought your gaze back up to Arthur’s. 

“Show me, Arthur.”

He nodded, a light smile on his lips. “Alright, princess. We’re gonna have to be quiet though.”

The whole reason why you came into the tent came back to you. “Well, maybe we don’t have to be. And I did say I was gettin’ you out of camp, and, well, Dutch has told me to bring you to Saint Denis to ‘search for leads’,” you said, hoping that Arthur got the hidden meaning quicker than you did. 

“Did he now?” You nodded. “Well, why didn’t you say so sooner. Don’t wanna waste any time now, do we?”

“In my defense, I thought you were in pain when I walked in. You jerk,” you bopped him again. Arthur just shook his head at you. 

Standing up, you supported your shaky legs by holding onto his shoulders. Despite being fully upright, you still held on, not really wanting to stop feeling him. You now stood above him, able to look down at him as he sat on the edge of the bed. Bringing your face lower, you kiss the space between his brows, then moving down the arch of nose and planting one on the tip. Then kissing the apples of each cheek in quick succession, you hovered just above his own, and you cupped his face in your hands. Your thumbs rubbed the stubble of his cheeks, and you couldn’t help but wonder how it would feel between your thighs. It wasn’t the first time you’d wondered, but you hoped that soon your questions would be answered. 

At last, your lips finally made contact with his. If there was one thing you would never tire of, it would be kissing Arthur. His lips were surprisingly soft, plush yet firm. Even though you had kissed him many times before, each time felt like the first, the overwhelming feeling of him taking over every sense, every nerve in your body buzzing with energy. Eagerly Arthur reciprocated, lips moving against you like they were created to fit with yours perfectly. Before you allowed the two of you to get swept away, kissing his forehead before stepping away.

“C’mon, pretty boy,” you grabbed his hat, affixing it atop your head with a wink as Arthur scoffed. “Let’s go to Saint Denis. I’ve heard the hotels there are… lucrative.”

Arthur stood now, rebuttoning up his shirt and attempting to make himself more put together. “I’m sure they are, princess.” He gestured you out of the tent, and the midday air did little to cool you off. 

Walking toward your horses, you saw Dutch talking with Lenny, before the older man patted him on the shoulder and walked away. Because Lenny was facing you, you gave him a questioning thumbs up, and he nodded in return. “Have a good night then, Lenny,” you called out. 

“You too, miss.” You saw his eyes flick behind you. “Both of you,” he added, before walking to a nearby campfire and plopping down, laughing lightly to himself. Reaching your mount, you patted TT on his neck, and then offered him a sugarcube from the saddle bag. He gladly ate the treat, snorting when he finished. 

You went to mount TT, but Arthur calling your name had you halting, only one foot in the stirrup as you turned over your shoulder to look at him. He stood beside his horse, holding the reins in his hands. “Ride with me?” he asked, smiling brightly when you made your way over to him. 

When you got close enough, after giving you a quick peck on the cheek he placed his hands on your hips. Easily lifting you on the rump of his horse, you immediately wrapped your arms around him when he mounted. Scooting forward as best you could while sitting sidesaddle, your chest pressed against his back, and you rest your head on his shoulder. His hat was kind of in the way, but you didn’t dare take it off. 

After ensuring that you were secure, he began moving, the camp quickly leaving both your visions shortly. He kept his horse at a fast pace, which was nowhere near as fast as you were going earlier, but you didn’t mind. You sighed in contentment, finally able to be alone with Arthur and place any worries about camp behind you, at least for a couple days. No petty squabbles, no jobs, no Pinkertons. Just you and Arthur. 

Arthur seemed to feel similarly, based on the way he relaxed in your grasp, leaning back slightly against you. Letting go of the reins in one hand, he rubbed your leg affectionately. His chest tumbled beneath your hands, and you realized he was talking, but you could barely hear him. 

When you asked him to repeat himself, Arthur turned his head to the side, making it easier to hear him, but it made you have to lift your own off his shoulder. “I said ‘thank you’.”

“Okay? You’re welcome?” you responded with uncertainty. 

“For gettin’ me out of camp like this, and despite how much I wanted to fight it, you knew I needed it.” 

“I mean, I wasn’t the one who got you out. You can thank Dutch for that.”

Arthur shook his head. “Sure, only after you presumably said somethin’ to him. And you’ve been the one trying to get me out all day! Don’t downplay yourself like that.” Arthur paused for a moment before continuing. “And you’ve always stuck your neck out for me like that, even before,” he gestured to your arms wrapped around him, “this. You’ve always seen me as more than the camp workhorse, more than a means to an end… more than myself… and I guess what I’m tryin’ to say is I appreciate it. For carin’ about me.” Arthur sighed. “I don’t really know what I’m saying…” he trailed off, refacing forward.

The sincerity in his voice had you heart breaking, but you also felt angry. Not at Arthur, but at the others, for using Arthur until he wore thin. Angry at the world that told him he wasn’t worthy enough to be loved, to be cared for. And you were angry at yourself, for holding off on telling him how much he mattered and meant to you. 

Grateful that he had his back to you so that he couldn’t see the tears in your eyes, you clung on tighter to him. Your voice cracked as you spoke, and you prayed that Arthur didn’t hear it. “You don’t gotta thank me for that. You deserve more, so much more, but I’ll give you all I have. I love you, Arthur Morgan, and I mean it. I’ll never stop sayin’ it until the day I die.”

Something wet hit your hand, and you realized Arthur was crying. Not sobbing, or making any audible noise; his shoulders didn’t shake either. But a few tears had left his eyes, one of them hitting you as they fell. “Arthur?” You asked, concerned.

Arthur, who clearly wasn’t expecting you to see his tears, quickly wiped them away, his hand no longer resting on your leg. “I… shit. Sorry.” You could tell he was embarrassed, trying to gloss over his emotions.

“I didn’t mean-”

“You ain’t done anything wrong,” Arthur reassured. “It’s just… I never thought I’d feel this way again, not after… not after Mary. I thought this part of me died a long time ago, and I just accepted that. I thought I’d never be loved again.” He chuckled humorlessly. “A part of me can’t believe this all ain’t a dream. I’ve wanted it so long that it seemed unobtainable.”

You knew about Mary, from the bits and pieces you learned from Hosea and Dutch. Arthur had never spoken about her with you, and you never asked, not wanting to push that boundary. Shamefully, you expected to feel some tinge of jealousy at the mention of his ex-lover, but you didn’t. You felt angry at her, for the way she broke his heart, and made him believe that he was unlovable. And strangely enough, you felt the tiniest bit of gratitude, but you weren’t quite sure who it was towards. All you could say is that you were thankful that you were now entrusted with Arthur’s heart, and you were going to cherish it. 

“Well,” you returned your head on his shoulder, “you’re very much awake, and I hate to break it to you, but you’re stuck with me now.”

“Thank God,” he responded. You couldn’t tell which part he was thankful for. 

Glancing around, you saw the outskirts of the town or Rhodes behind you, and the fence marking off the Gray’s property ahead of you, meaning you and Arthur were well on your way to Saint Denis. Another ten or so minutes of riding would get you there. Arthur had returned his grip on your thigh, and you settled in for the remainder of the ride. 

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

You weren’t a fan of Saint Denis, with the polluted air and dirty streets, and the equally filthy people. Although it was deemed to be the pinnacle of modern civilization, you had to disagree. What “great” city like this would leave parts of their population unhoused, unfed, uncared for. Or elect snakes in positions of power instead of people, whose only interest in mind was their own. Or how the joy of living seemed to be sucked out of the people, and how they’re now only soulless husks whose only purpose was to work and sleep. 

You voiced your thoughts to Arthur as you rode in, the metal archway proudly reading Saint Denis disappearing behind you. Passing by a group of well dressed individuals, Arthur nodded in agreement. 

“And to think, they wanna make everywhere like this.”

Arthur didn’t respond, just continuing to lead his horse though the streets. The sounds on hooves on the cobblestone was quite loud, but it was still barely audible over the sound of machinery and engines. People stared at you two as you passed, and their eyes lingered on you for longer than necessary. It occurred to you that you probably looked quite out of place because of the way you were dressed.

You wore skirts and dresses from time to time, and you liked wearing them, but they weren’t the practical option for days like today, where you’d need to quickly get on and off your horse, and would have to move quickly and silently. But every scrutinizing glance from well-dressed strangers had you regretting your choice of apparel. You told yourself that you shouldn’t care what these people thought of you, but the innate human desire to fit in and be accepted was overwhelming, especially now. 

“You’d think I’d grown a third arm, the way people are lookin’ at me,” you joked. 

“Don’t let ‘em get to you,” Arthur sent a deadly glare to one said person, whose face turned ghostly white as he scampered away. 

Chuckling, you kissed Arthur on his cheek. “My knight in shining armor,” you swooned, earning an eye roll from the cowboy. 

“Not like you need one.”

“Maybe not. But if my knight was you, I wouldn’t say no.”

He chuckled lightly. “What’s so funny?” you questioned, laughing slightly yourself. 

“Nothin’. Nothin’ at all, princess.” 

Turning the corner, you were met with with a rather crowded street with buildings towering over you. But directly ahead of you stood your destination, a large hotel that spanned three floors and the name of the establishment sprawled across the front in a language you didn’t recognize. 

As Arthur made his way to one of the many hitching posts in front, you felt your heartbeat begin to accelerate as you remembered why you were here. Anticipation had your body on edge, almost tense in the way you held on to him.

You were always impressed at the way Arthur seemed to notice every small detail, but right now you found yourself cursing that ability. He took note of the way your body went rigid, and he reassuringly squeezed your thigh. “You good?” You knew that he wasn’t just talking about right now; he was asking if you were still comfortable continuing what had started last night. 

“Yeah,” your voice was breathier than you would’ve liked. “I’m just… excited.” Sure, you were nervous as well, but it was easily alleviated by the trust you had in the man. 

“Good,” he smiled. Bringing his horse to the post, he quickly dismounted, securing his mount with a loose knot. Next, his hands met your waist as he helped you off. Your legs were slightly numb from the way you were sitting, but you stayed steady as your feet made contact with the ground. 

After double checking that his horse was secure, and had plenty of food and water nearby, he held out his hand, pulling you along when you took it. He held the door open for you, and the joke you were about to make fell short as you took in the interior of the hotel. 

Large, swooping archways cascaded above your head, the large vaulted ceilings filled with paintings and statues that observed you as you walked in, your hand still linked with his. It reminded you of something you'd heard about a while back, some chapel in Italy with painted ceilings like this. The walls were stark white, and no less decorated, paintings with golden frames facing you, and the marble floor beneath you clacked as your boots made contact. An ornate chandelier lit the room, located directly in the center of the entrance area. Its jewels glinted in the light, reflecting tiny rainbows across the walls.

It was breathtaking, to say the least. Eyes wide, you let yourself be pulled by Arthur as you took it all in. “Maybe it ain’t so bad they’re tryin’ to make cities like this, if this is what it turns into.” You laughed in disbelief. “It’s beautiful.”

Arthur seemed less impressed than you, eyes barely glancing over the various art pieces adorning the walls and ceiling. “Don’t go changin’ your mind now. This,” he waved his free hand around, “is how they get ya. This is all just a front.”

“You’re no fun,” you chidded, and your vision was suddenly obscured as Arthur flicked the hat down on your head. A very improper squawk left you as you quickly fixed the hat, glaring up at him with no real heat. 

“I’m plenty fun, princess.” By this point, you’d reached the front desk, where a very impatient looking man stood. As Arthur ordered a room, you continued to peer around, not paying much mind to the conversation. We weren’t only distracted by the art now, but your mind began to wander to the events that were sure to transpire shortly. You shamelessly ogled his body, now realizing he left his usual jacket back at camp, only down to his undershirt now. His well built shoulders caused the fabric to be pulled taught against his body, leaving little to the imagination. How would they feel under your touch? Would you grip on to them tight as he took you, letting you leave scratches down his back? Would they spread your legs apart as he-

Your thoughts were broken when you felt a tug at your arm, and you glanced at Arthur who regarded you with an amused glance. Based on the way he was grinning at you, you knew he knew where your mind had gone. “Bath?” He asked, and your mouth felt dry as you tried to respond.

“After.” The clerk couldn’t have done a worse job hiding his disdain, but you ignored him. Arthur took the room key from him, not even thanking him before heading up the staircase behind the front desk. 

It felt like forever, the walk to the room. You’ve had your share of encounters in the bedroom, but it had never felt like this. It never felt this right. 

It seemed like hours went by before Arthur was unlocking one of the rooms, letting go of your hand for the first time to get it open. Like the gentleman he was, he held the door open for you again.

The rooms were no less decorated, but once the original splendor wore off, you found yourself caring less and less. A large four poster canopy bed sat in the center of the large room, a plush fur carpet beneath it. The room was well lit, with a balcony on the right side that was allowing copious amounts of sunlight into the room. The window for the balcony was left open, and you found yourself quickly closing it, the curtains settling as the wind was cut off. A basin with water along with a few towels and rags occupied the leftmost side of the wall with the balcony, with a wooden dresser neighboring it. 

Now in the room, you took off your boots and socks, not wanting to track too much dirt across the carpet. Leaving them near the wardrobe, you made your way to the bed. The fur, which had to be some kind of large white bear, felt pleasant against your bare feet as you approached. The sheets felt even better than the carpet, rich silks flowing through your fingers like water. 

Sitting down at the foot of the bed, you dragged your hand across, and you made your way up one of the wood posts, the material sturdy and well polished. You wondered how much a room like this cost to rent for a night or two. Turning to ask Arthur, you found him at one of the nightstands that framed the bed, unholstering his gunbelt and placing it there, as well as taking off his own boots. 

When he felt your attention on him, he smiled warmly, leaning up against the post you were examining after reaching you. He had his hands on his hips, about where he would rest his hands if his gunbelt were there, looking at you with such fondness that you completely forgot the question you were going to ask. Staring up at him, any rational thought went out the window to your right; the only thing on your mind was him. He must’ve seen this change in your demeanor, pushing off the post and stopping now right in front of you.

“Show me, Arthur.” It came out less like a request and more like a demand. 

Arthur chuckled, a low yes ma’am leaving him before his lips were on yours. It wasn’t soft like you were expecting. The force in which he kissed you had you nearly landing flat on your back, but you caught yourself with one arm, the other finding purchase on the side of his face as you cupped it. Kissing you like you were the only thing keeping him alive, he leaned over you now, but the angle he was doing it was not the most comfortable, relying on only his core muscles to keep him upright and not crush you.

Breaking away, you took a gulp of air, laughing at the way Arthur chased after you, like he couldn’t bear to be without you for only a few seconds. Scooching back on the bed until your back was resting against the multitude of pillows available, you opened your arms up. Crawling up after you, Arthur sighed, content, when your touch returned, still holding him in one of your palms.

Wasting no time, he fervently resumed his kiss, teeth grazing your bottom lip gently. His hands tangled into your hair, his hat falling somewhere on the bed, but you were too engrossed to care. One of his knees slotted between your legs, the other resting by your hip. As the tension in you returned, you found yourself inadvertently grinding against his thigh, trying to find some sort of relief. Arthur groaned when he felt you begin to use him, his mouth going slack against yours. 

Moving from your mouth to your jaw, he pressed open mouth kisses as he went along. When you tried to move your head to follow him, you felt his grip in your hair tighten. Not enough to cause any pain, but it kept you still as he continued his exploration. You weren't able to do much but sit there, hips grinding against Arthur, but it wasn’t doing anything except get you more and more heated.

You expected to feel him start to leave hickies across your neck, especially when his mouth started trailing down your throat. But he didn’t, rather he was gentle with the soft skin, leaving no physical evidence that he was there. Before you could even comprehend what you were asking for, you were speaking, combing your fingers through Arthur’s hair like it was going to help convince him. “You can mark me, Arthur. Please. Let everyone know I’m taken.”

Your whispered pleas were not met on deaf ears, an almost painful sounding moan leaving the man as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. His breath tickled your ear as he panted, his hands releasing your hair as they framed each side of your head. You thought he was going to turn the idea down, but you were elated when you felt his lips return to your neck, now sucking and biting as well. 

“Anythin’ for you, princess.” He sounded positively wrecked. Traveling down the column of your neck, you felt him leave marks, marks that you were certain were going to be dark purple by tonight.

“Fuck, yeah, you’re so good to me. My pretty boy,”  You cooed, nails scratching his scalp lightly. “Everyone back at camp is gonna see these marks; they’re gonna know what you did to me. They’re gonna know you fucked me so good.”

Arthur sat back on his heels, hair in disarray from your fingers. The sunlight filtering in caused the strands to become golden, like the color of the frames you saw downstairs. He looked almost heavenly in this light, the way the sun illuminated him. God, he looked beautiful. His blue eyes were nearly black with lust, and the normally stoic man seemed to be falling apart. “You- you can’t keep sayin’ things like that… then sayin’ I’m beautiful,” he murmured, running a hand down his face. 

So your thoughts weren’t as secret as you believed. “Why not?” You questioned, a teasing smirk on your face. “I’m only tellin’ the truth.”

“Truth or not, if you keep goin’ on like that, I’m ‘fraid this night’s gonna end quicker than either of us would like.” Glancing downward, you saw Arthur readjust himself. The bulge in his pants looked uncomfortable, painfully even. With a sympathetic noise, you reached for the zipper on his pants, ready to alleviate him. 

You were surprised when he stopped your hand, his fingers wrapping gently around your wrist. “Next time. I… I need to taste you, princess.”

“Is that what you were thinkin’ about earlier?” You tried to sound unbothered, knowing damn well that you were practically throbbing at the idea of him going down on you. The desperation in his voice added fuel to the fire in you, finding yourself growing increasingly wetter at each thing coming from his mouth. 

“One of many things,” he confessed. “Is that a yes?”

“Arthur, if you don’t get your ass-” your comment was cut short by his mouth on yours. It didn’t last long, before he was returning to where he left off on your neck. This time, however, you felt his hands work at your belt, throwing it somewhere behind him when he got it unlooped from your pants, which were next to go. It took a little bit longer, but eventually they were tossed behind as well, leaving you in only your undergarments from the waist down.

You went to start unbuttoning the shirt you wore, but Arthur beat you to it, his dexterous fingers quickly undoing the buttons. He rested his head against yours, eyes looking down as we worked, grumbling obscenities when one of the buttons was stubborn. Eventually it was off as well, the shirt and the bandana adding to the growing pile on the floor. “I thought you liked me in your clothes,” you teased. 

“I think I like you better without any. Now,” he nudged your arms, “up.” You complied, lifting them to allow Arthur to slip your chemise up and off your body, and, like the other articles, found a new home on the floor of the hotel. The cold air on your bare chest caused you to gasp, goosebumps erupting across your skin. All of that was forgotten when you saw Arthur, the heat in his gaze easily melting the chill of the air. 

He sat back on his heels again, taking in your almost entirely exposed body, the only remaining thing on your body being your drawers. Letting out an appreciative noise that sounded almost like a purr, he rested his hands on your hips, squeezing lightly at the flesh there. Bringing his hands up, more and more goosebumps formed following his path, like your body was mapping out the way he touched you.

“God, you’re so gorgeous, princess. Even more so than I imagined.”

“You imagine me naked a lot, Arthur?”

He was right below your breasts now, running his fingers right below where you wanted him to touch. “You already know the answer to that.”

“For how long?”

Arthur stilled at this, a flash of panic cutting through his lustful eyes for a split second. “You want the truth, or a lie that would make me less of a creep?”

Well, now you were curious. Raising a brow, the man on his knees in front of you gave out an exasperated sigh, no longer looking you in the eye as he responded. “Roughly two years ago. I…” he trailed off, moving to rub the back of his neck, but you caught his hand in yours, forcing his eyes back on you. 

You laughed, mostly at Arthur’s expense, but also at how long you firmly believed that your attraction was one-sided. “You silly cowboy,” you urged him back by tugging his arm, and he rested on his forearms, caging you in. “I’d be a liar if I said I hadn’t been doin’ the same.”

He hovered a few inches above you, and you could feel the heat emanating from his body. “I’ll have to see that sometime,” he spoke low in your ear. “You spread open, touchin’ yourself to the thought of me.” He paused for a second. “But that’ll have to wait. You,” he tugged at the lobe of your ear with his teeth, “keep distracting me. Let me get back to work.”

Sitting back up, he returned his hands to your body, still keeping away from where you wanted, just taking you in with his eyes. When you tried to push your chest up into his hands, he gave you a disapproving frown before pushing you back down. “No one ever teach ya patience, princess?” The absence of his body heat caused you to shiver, your nipples pebbling from the cold and arousal. 

His hands brushed over the scars across your body, his touch lingering on the one on your left shoulder, the one the O’Driscolls gave you over a month ago. You didn’t have time to feel self conscious before his lips were pressing light kisses on top of it, murmuring soft words under his breath. Finally, you felt his hands cup your breasts, kneading the mounds in his hands, his mouth leaving marks as it joined his hands in his touch. His hands did feel even better without a shirt blocking them, the callous of his fingers deliciously rough against the soft skin

He didn’t stay there long, his own patience being worn thin. He moved down your body now, pepper kisses across the various marks on your body. His fingers pulled at the strings of your drawers, quickly unlacing the bow there. Lifting up your hips to help him, he pulled them off, and they joined the pile. Finally, you were completely bare to him, and you heard him groan appreciatively. Trailing his mouth down your body, he halted just below your belly button, his hands resting on your thighs. 

He looked up, and his smirk was downright sinful as he lifted one of your legs across his shoulder, further exposing yourself to him. One hand held your hip, the other lying unused by his side. Your hands clutched uselessly at the pillows supporting you, gripping even harder when you felt him part your folds with fingers. His eyes were fully locked onto your cunt now, letting out a whistle when he saw how obviously wet you were. “This all for me, princess?” he asked, peppering kisses along the inside of your thighs. 

“Just for you. It’s only ever you.” You panted.

You felt him smile. “Good.” He removed his hand, and you almost let out a small whine at the loss of contact. You were quickly silenced when you felt those same fingers sweep through you, gathering your arousal on them. The digits were soaked, but you had little time to feel embarrassed before he was running his tongue up them, tasting you. You let out a noise, somewhere between his name and a moan as Arthur cleaned his fingers, his eyes closed as he savored the taste.

“Gonna get me addicted, princess,” he groaned, his fingers leaving his mouth and resting on the inside of your thigh, keeping your legs propped open. “But I bet ya taste better right from the source.” You felt him place one last kiss on your thigh before his mouth was on your cunt, his tongue following the same path as his fingers through you. Going bottom to top, it was a broad sweep of his tongue, not targeting anything specific but you still felt your hips buck against his face when he grazed your clit. 

The hand on your hip moved, resting across your lap to keep you still as he passed his tongue through again, and again. “Easy, girl,” he rumbled, and you would’ve been offended that he was talking to you like a horse if he wasn’t currently buried between your legs. Instead, you threw your head back, the soft feather pillows preventing you from smacking the headboard. Your grip moved from said pillows, moving to burrow into Arthur’s hair. Your fingers went to weave between the strands, but you second-guessed your decision, especially when he started focusing his tongue on your clit. 

You tried to retract your hand, but Arthur caught it no longer holding your legs open. He brought it back to his head, and you gripped on to his hair. Arthur let out a pleased groan at that, and it seemed to spur him on more, lapping at you like he was dying of thirst. Every flick of his tongue sent jolts through your body, cries and whimpers of his name leaving your lips every time. You knew he had a silver tongue, but you never expected to be falling apart on it. 

Because he was no longer holding you open, your thighs closed around his head with both legs on his shoulders, but you were too lost in your pleasure to notice. Now you were able to feel his beard against the sensitive skin, feeling better than you’d imagined. It would probably be chaffed and irritated in the morning, but every time you felt it you’d remember the way Arthur was devouring you. 

You were so caught up on that new sensation that you hadn’t noticed the newly freed hand move between your legs, a gasp leaving your lips when you felt him pressed against your entrance. He stopped at your reaction, but he continued to use his mouth, the tension in you growing and growing at each flick.

When you provided no protest, he continued, slowly pressing his finger into you. It didn’t take much effort, your arousal helping to ease the digit in with little resistance, and within moments he was knuckle-deep. He was big, far bigger than your fingers, and you let out a small noise at the stretch. “You’re doing so good,” Arthur praised, his finger not moving to let you adjust. “My good girl.” His words were muffled, tongue still pleasuring you between words, but you heard them loud and clear. 

You weren’t quite sure why that got a reaction out of you, but a very audible moan left you, and you clenched around Arthur’s finger, pulling even harder at his hair. He let out a surprised groan that turned into a chuckle as he felt you, and you could hear him smirk. “You taste so good, and you’re so tight,” He bent the digit inside you, almost in a beckoning motion, which caused you to see stars. “My good girl’s gonna cum for me, right? Let me feel you, princess.”

You were close, that was certain. That tension, the one deep inside you that had been begging to be released since what seemed like forever, was about to break. You just needed one more push. 

He started slowly pistoning the finger in and out of you, at least as best he could with your thighs in the way. Before long, he was adding a second finger, the additional stretch just about making you finish right there. You tried to convey that to Arthur, but it was coming out as an incoherent ramble. “Arthur… I- I’m… please…”

“I know, princess.” He kept at the same pace, drawing your pleasure out of you. The thing that broke you was seeing Arthur rocking his hips against the bed as he laid on his stomach, trying to find some relief. With a loud wail of his name, you came, trying and failing to thrust against his face as he pinned you down, fingers flexing against your hip bone. It felt like every nerve in your body was alive, buzzing with energy as pleasure wracked your body, and your eyes shut on instinct, which seemed to heighten the sensations you were feeling. Arthur removed his fingers from you, but he kept his tongue moving, obscene noises leaving him as he worked you through your orgasm. 

Boneless, your thighs went lax against his head, hands slumping to the sides of the bed, releasing the man from your death grip. But he either didn’t notice or didn’t care, still drinking you in. But you were starting to feel overstimulated, and you let out a small noise of complaint, which got Arthur to stop. He tried to hide a proud smile as he came back up, but you saw the corners of his mouth were raised slightly as he lay on his side next to you, letting you take a moment to recuperate. 

You took a few moments to just breathe, regaining control over your body and heart rate. Turning your head to face him, you slowly opened your eyes, and you nearly immediately shut them when you saw your arousal absolutely soaking his face. “I-,” if you weren’t flushed before, you sure were now.

Now Arthur was grinning, realizing what you were looking at. He wiped his mouth like he just finished a delicious meal. “I could do that all day.” He brushed his fingers across your body, not demanding anything, but just feeling you. “You doin’ alright?” 

You scoffed. “You’re askin’ me that? I nearly killed you with my thighs!”

“I told you I don’t mind if it hurts. And it’d’ve been a hell of a way to die,” he joked, and you slapped him lightly on the chest, which, much to your disappointment, was still covered with a shirt. You noticed, as your gaze went south, that he was still fully clothed, and you found yourself frowning at that.

“What’s wrong?” Arthur asked, confusion and worry now etched on his face, and he began to retract his hand slowly.

“You’re wearin’ too many clothes,” you whined, tugging at Arthur’s shirt.

He sighed in relief. “Whatever my good girl wants,” he chuckled, even more so when your breathing hitched. He got up, standing right next to the side of the bed. He slowly began unbuttoning his shirt, and you sat on your heels in front of him, waiting. 

When you deemed that he was taking too long, you started untucking his shirt, working the buttons at the bottom. “Impatient?”

“I’ve waited two fuckin’ years, Arthur.” You hadn’t meant to sound angry, but your patience was truly wearing thin. You didn’t feel too bad when he started unbuttoning faster, the article off before you realized, joining the pile beside him. His pants were off shortly thereafter, the belt still in them hitting the ground with a clang, and he kicked them off his feet. 

You moved back to let Arthur get back in the bed, and he sat where you were minutes prior, back against the pillows and headboard. Straddling his waist, your hands immediately started roaming the newly exposed skin, his muscles twitching under your touch. He truly was beautiful, almost aggravatingly so. He was well built, strong muscles protected by a healthy layer of fat that made him even bigger. 

Various scars and marks littered his body, all proof of surviving a hard life; you kissed each one you saw. Your fingers ran across his abs, the muscles tensing as you went along. You were surprised to find that his entire body was covered in hair, not just his arms and legs, but you definitely weren’t complaining, the pure masculinity from it all the more attractive. 

Speaking of masculinity, an experimental roll of your hips against Arthur’s had the man groaning, head rolling back slightly. But it also let you know that he wasn’t just well built, but well endowed. Quite endowed, if you were being honest.

After giving him a quick kiss, you moved back until you were more on his knees, and you tugged at the waistband of his undergarments. Like you, he lifted his hips up, and you quickly discarded it behind you. 

One look and you knew you were in for a long night. He was long, yes, but thick as well, able to stretch you out in all the right places. You tried to wrap your hand around the base of him, your fingers nowhere close to reaching each other. Slowly, you began to pump him, and he let out a strangled moan. His tip was red and leaking, and you wanted nothing more than to lean forward and lick it. And you tried to, at least, but he redirected you with his fingers around your jaw, bringing his lips crashing against yours. 

The kiss was filthy, his tongue sweeping into your mouth like he owned it. The fingers on your jaw kept your mouth open, a moan leaving you when you tasted yourself on him. He pulled back, eyes shutting when you continued to move your hand up and down his length. He stilled you by grabbing your wrist, pulling you back up so that you were straddling his waist again. 

“Y’feel amazin’, princess, I just wanna last.” He let go of you, settling his hands on your waist instead. “You ready?” 

“Please, Arthur.” One hand gripped his bicep, the other on his shoulder. “I need you.”

“And you’ll have me. Just don’t wanna see you hurt.” You felt his hand creep up your front, hovering just in front of your face, and his pointer and middle fingers brushed your bottom lip. “Suck,” he instructed, digits pressing gently against the seam of your lips. You parted your lips, enthusiastically taking them into your mouth, running your tongue alongside the bottom of them. Your eyes never left his, and you felt him twitch beneath you as you bobbed your head up and down. “Atta girl,” he praised, “get ‘em nice and wet for me.”

You’re sure you were soaking his lap at this point, but you didn’t care. Working your tongue along the knuckles, his hand quickly became covered in your drool. With a pop, his fingers left your mouth, leaving you panting around nothing. You watched, transfixed, as Arthur brought his hand to his cock, slowly stroking himself as he coated his length. He let out a soft gasp, eyes rolling to the back of his head, and the delicious noise had you clenching around nothing.

After a few passes, he stilled at the base, holding himself upright. Urging you to get up on your knees, you scooted until you were just hovering above him. His tip nudged your entrance, and you both let out similar moans as you slowly sunk down on his length. Your fingers dug into the muscles of his bicep, most likely leaving crescent-shaped marks in their wake. 

“That’s it. Nice and slow now…” he spoke, voice strained and clipped. The hand on your waist was vice-like, Arthur using every ounce of restraint in his body to not just sink you down on to him. 

Even though Arthur had done some prep with his fingers, and your mixed arousal and spit helped to ease things along, the stretch still burned. You rocked up and down, slowly taking more and more of him in you. Small noises left your lips as you worked yourself down, feeling every ridge of him in you, and your face buried into his neck. “Relax,” Arthur murmured, the hand on your hip rubbing reassuringly on your back. “We’ve got all the time in the world.”

“Arthur…” you moaned, your legs beginning to shake at the exertion.

“I know, princess. You’re doin’ so well. Just a lil’ bit more.” He kissed the top of your head, which would’ve been more wholesome outside the current circumstance. 

It took a little bit of you moving up and down him, working yourself open until you were able to take him completely. Eventually, your hips were flush with his, and your head rolling back as you finally felt him fully sheathed in you. You’d never felt so full before, his cock reaching places you’d hadn’t realized existed. 

When you leaned back, it puffed your chest in his face, and his mouth was on you in seconds, lapping and sucking and kneading at the soft flesh there. “Oh, Arthur.” Your hands were in his hair, keeping him close as he lavished your breasts. “You feel so good.”

Not stopping for a second, you heard him something, and the tone was almost proud, but it was hard to tell over the blood rushing in your ears. As you let yourself get used to him, rocking up and down him slowly, you moved your head to the side to let him bring his mouth up your neck, and you saw something brown out of the corner of your eyes. Turning even further, you saw Arthur’s hat a few feet behind you, and a wicked idea crossed your mind. 

It took a bit of reaching to get the hat, causing you to pull yourself away from Arthur’s mouth. He let out a noise of complaint, hands trying to bring you back until he realized what you were reaching for. “Princess…” his usually gravelly voice was even more so, the word barely audible through his clenched teeth. 

“What?” You flashed him an innocent smile. Clutching his hat in your hand, you slowly rode him, sinking up and down his cock. You tried to seem unaffected, but you couldn’t stop the whimper that you let out. 

You secured it on your head, clenching around him when you heard the almost predatory growl that left him. He was losing the battle with his restraint, and you wanted nothing more than to see him succumb to his desire. Running your fingers though the hair on his pecs, you brought your lips close to his, only a hair’s width away from connecting. “Princess.” It was more of a warning than anything, and you felt him let out a huff of air.

“What’s the matter?” You teased. 

“Nothin’,” you watched his eyes flick down to your entrance, watching his cock disappear into you. You would’ve believed that he was content with you just using him for your pleasure, enjoying the feeling of your walls fluttering around him, but you’d seen the look in his eye when you put his hat on, and felt the way his fingers tightened on you as he fought to not to just take you as he pleased. 

You wanted to see him lose the control he fought so hard to maintain. 

“Really? Cause you seem tense, cowboy. Like you’re holdin’ back.” You smiled gently, rubbing his chest reassuringly. 

“Dunno what you mean,” he tried to play dumb, looking away from you as he spoke.

You brought his gaze back to yours, caressing the side of his face as you did so. “I don’t want you to.”

It took a few moments for Arthur to respond, eyes not leaving yours as you continued to ride him. “Are you sure, princess? I…” he exhaled shakily, “It might hurt-”

“I know what I want, Arthur. You’re not the only one who likes it a little rough.” You brushed your lips over his, and you could tell he was still fighting himself. “I wanna feel you for days after this, Arthur. I wanna be able to feel you whenever I walk, every ache I feel remindin’ me of when you absolutely ruined me. I need you to ruin me, Arthur. Please, fuck me-”

Your rambling was cut short when he smashed his lips against yours, muffling your noises as he effortlessly lifted you off his cock before slamming you back down. He set a brutal pace, hips snapping up as he fucked up into you. The kiss didn’t last long, your head rolling back again, hat barely staying on your head as he took you as he pleased.

The sound of your collective moans filled the air, the sound of skin-on-skin muffled by your voice. “Yes, Arthur!” you cried out, and you felt yourself working up to another climax, already worked up from riding him previously. You tried to praise him some more, but you words came out garbled and incoherent, too overwhelmed with what he was doing to be able to develop a sentence. 

“What’s that, princess?” you could hear him smirk. 

You tried to respond, but all you could let out was a loud moan. You were just happy you weren’t back at camp, or else you’d never be able to look anyone in the eye ever again. 

You heard him moan out your name. “You feel so good, you know that?” He panted. “Like you were made for me to ruin.”

You let out another cry of his name, growing closer and closer to your release. “That’s right, let everyone know who’s fucking this pretty cunt so well.”

In the back of your mind, you knew that Arthur was going to be embarrassed as hell afterwards, saying stuff like this. But the filthy words coming from his lips had you gasping, a jolt of arousal shooting through your body. You said his name like a mantra, spurring him on even more. “Arthur, I’m- I’m so close,” you moaned.

“Fuck, me too, princess,” he didn’t slow down his pace, and you felt him bring his fingers to your clit, caressing the bundle of nerves. “C’mon then, cum for me.”

The added stimulation from his fingers, plus the sharp drag of his cock across your walls was enough to make you cum, his hat finally falling off as your head was thrown back in pleasure. This one was much more intense than the the last one, and you swore you blacked out for a second. 

You probably did blackout, because you hadn’t realized you were on your back until a few moments later, Arthur’s hips snapping into you as he chased his own release. He pulled out suddenly, and you felt yourself pulse around nothing, feeling empty at the lack of him. Arthur was on his knees above you, pumping himself quickly as he came all over your chest, hot ropes of cum hitting your stomach and breasts.

He sagged forward once he finished, hands on either side of your body as he laid there catching his breath, being mindful to not crush you. You ran your nails along his scalp, the man shuddering under your touch. A few moments passed, both of you just basking in the afterglow of your release. The room wasn’t cold anymore, the heat generated from the both of you causing a sheen of sweat to cover your bodies. A bath definitely sounded good right now, but you didn’t want to get up, body pleasantly sore and exhausted. 

You felt Arthur sit back up, getting off the bed entirely. You watched him grab one of the rags from the water basin, pouring a bit of water on it before returning to you. You let out a small hiss as the cold water made contact with your skin, Arthur apologizing as he cleaned you up. His touch was light, reverent, his eyes filled with an emotion you weren’t able to place as he wiped down your body. As Arthur walked away, wiping down himself as well, you situated yourself under the covers, the silk feeling wonderful against your skin as you nuzzled into the pillows.

Arthur joined you shortly, the bed shifting under his weight as he joined you under the covers. You watched him open his arms for you, and you gladly let yourself be wrapped up in them, your chests pressed together, and you felt him press a gentle kiss to the top of your head. “You alright?” 

Smiling, you looked up at him. “I’m amazin’,” your voice was scratchy. “Just sore. And don’t you dare apologize,” you glared at him when he opened his mouth to do just that. 

“We can get you a bath later, if you’d like.”

“As long as you join me.”

You felt Arthur chuckle, his chest rumbling against yours, kissing you now on the forehead. “Whatever you want.”

Sighing contentedly, you stared at Arthur, who had now closed his eyes, his tiredness now making itself known. You were too busy scanning his features that you hadn’t noticed him cracking an eye open, raising a brow quizzically at you. “What?”

“You’re very beautiful, Arthur.”

You watched him stammer for a second, the bright red flush returning to his face from minutes prior. “It’d be pointless to disagree with you, wouldn’t it, princess?”

“Yup,” you giggled. The two of you sat in comfortable silence after that, until a question you’d been meaning for a while came back to you at that moment. “Why’d you call me that?”

“Call ya what?”

“Princess. I thought we already established that I ain’t one.”

“You want me to stop?” 

You shook your head. “You better not. I like it. I’m just curious why you use it.”

“To be completely honest, I ain’t quite sure why either,” he chuckled. “It started as a bit of a joke, before we became serious. But I liked the way you reacted to it, so I kept callin’ you it just to see your reaction. I kept sayin’ it after because you deserve to be called somethin’ unique, somethin’ that’s special to us.”

“Earlier, you said I was something’ better than a princess. What’s that?”

“It’s cheesy,” he tried to avoid the question, but you gave him a pointed look. Sighing, he relented. “You’re, well, you. You’re an outlaw, a gunslinger, a survivor. You’re a confidant, a friend, a leader. You’re my girl, my angel, the best thing that has ever happened to me. All things that are infinitely better than some royal title.” He shrugged. “And sure, maybe you ain’t a princess, but you deserve to be treated like one. I guess callin’ you that, it’s a constant reminder for me to treat you like the incredible person you are, and to not take your love for granted.” 

You held back the tears that threatened to spill from your eyes. “You’re oddly poetic at times.”

“I told ya it was cheesy,” he grumbled, the bashful smile on his face dropping when he saw the tears in your eyes. “Shit, it wasn’t that bad, was it?”

Despite the single tear rolling down your face, you laughed. “I love you so much, Arthur Morgan.”

He said your name slowly, wiping away the tear with the pad of his thumb. “I love you too.” You tried to smile at him, but a yawn overtook you, causing Arthur to laugh lightly. “Let’s get some rest. I’ll be right here.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

[snaillock]

heeyy^x^

i really like ur writings🤭 and i’m happy bc finally someone writes male reader stories

anyway!! i would like to request a sae x gamer/streamer m!reader fic, where the reader is a big gamer and also a twitch streamer, how did sae get along with that, how does sae take it when the reader doesn't pay attention to him because he's playing / chatting with his friends on discord🫣 sorry if i write something wrong english is not my first language😔 had a good day!!

sae itoshi x male!streamer!reader

tysm anon! i’m glad you enjoy my stuff! i also hope you enjoy this and that it’s to your satisfaction

tags: male reader, established relationship, jealous and overthinking sae, surprise! sae also sucks ass at communicating, also lowkey self-indulgent since i secretly dream of being a streamer, doing a different format than what i typically do

sae knows he’s being hypocritical but he simply can’t help it.

he saw the way you would hole yourself up in your office, streaming for several hours straight almost every day. sometimes you wouldn’t even get out to take a break.

you could’ve given yourself a much more laidback schedule thanks to sae’s success and wealth. instead you chose not to rely on him financially and prioritized your self-independence and stability. the only thing you really accepted from him career-wise was the massive clout boost that came with being his boyfriend. not to mention, you just loved the career path you chose, even if it did make you stressed sometimes. so you were more than fine with committing a lot of effort into it despite his insistence.

he understands and relates to how busy your lifestyle can get, yet he can’t help but feel a little neglected when he rarely sees you outside your office during the day and knows you don’t have much time free time to spend with him.

and perhaps he did feel jealous whenever he overheard you and your other streamer friends voice calling and playing games, laughing and cracking jokes with each other.

ugh he hated the idea that he could get jealous at all. he knows he should be more rational about this. he’s supposed to be the rational one! but he can’t help it. you’re his boyfriend! you should be spending your time with him. laughing and making jokes with him.

it’s gotten so bad that he even felt annoyed by your viewers fawning over you. he knew feeling a threatened by them was crazy because who the hell doesn’t know you’re sae itoshi’s boyfriend. anyone would be crazy to try to come in between that. plus he has plenty of his own simps going insane over him. so he of all people should be more than aware of what it’s like to be with someone who’s famous and very out there in the world. he should especially expect this when he’s dating such a good looking guy.

sae has rarely felt insecure about himself either. until his mind started spiraling and he manages to convince himself that he isn’t interesting enough to be with you compared to your gamer friends. he definitely doesn’t say anything to you about it since he doesn’t want you think he’s weak because of it. instead he lets those overcooked insecurities build up even more and more in his head until he starts believing them.

one day he noticed your office door slightly cracked open so he peeked his head in to see you streaming. which you then noticed from the corner of your eye.

“sae!” you spun your chair around to face him. you quickly took off your headphones, forgetting to mute the microphone, and held your arms out with a big smile. “come here baby!”

he was surprised and flustered from your enthusiastic response. how could he not be when he’s been living with those negative ideas about the relationship for a while that he’s gotten so used to them. he reluctantly walked over to you to which you wrapped your arms around his neck, making him bend down to your eye level.

“i’m so sorry i’ve been so busy lately,” you said before cupping his face and planting kisses on his cheeks. “i promise i’ll make it up to you.” his face softened as he felt his worries wash away thanks to your words and kisses.

“alright,” he nodded. everything’s going to be alright. he watched your screen from the corner of his eye as the live chat started going crazy, with a slight smirk on his face.

a.n: when i got this request, i was also working on a much bigger sae fic which should be coming out in a few days or so. it’s currently 2k+ words. so stay tuned and if anyone wants to be tagged when it’s posted, let me know!

i also don’t think i can post a fic without using read more. i always write so fucking much.

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Out Of Depth (But We’ll Be Okay)

Summary: Clint Barton x Fe!Reader -> You and Clint have been having an intimate relationship and it’s been hidden from the rest of the team. But, what happens when Fate throws you both a curve ball and it can no longer remain a secret?

Disclaimer: Fluff, swearing, feelings of being completely terrified of life, Sam and Bucky being idiots. Ignoring Endgame and CW. Clint has never been married or has kids in this fic. Friends/Co-workers to lovers. FwB SMUT (description is brief in the beginning, so feel free to skip), mentions of unprotected sex (be safe, wrap it up) MDNI. IF YOU CONTINUE READING THIS, YOU ARE CONSENTING TO READING 18+ THEMES. THIS IS YOUR WARNING.

Clint was good at his job. 

He had to be. He had no other choice. If he wasn’t good, that meant he was bad and that could result in one of two things. Either, he’d get fired. Or, he’d die. If he was bad at his job, he’d prefer his exit to be the former of the two options, but when it came down to it, he wouldn’t really have a choice. 

But, he was good at his job. So, it didn’t matter. 

What he wasn’t good at, however, was being a dad. Or, at least, being told he was about to become one and not freak out about it. 

You had told him three days after you had found out yourself. 

You could remember it. Being stood in your bathroom until you saw the very pink double lines appear on the centre of the stick, which made you back up until you sat on the toilet seat and placed a hand to your mouth. 

At first, you didn’t know how to react. 

You and Clint weren’t exactly…together. 

It had started just over a year ago when, after some strange happenings on missions, you found comfort in one another. It was just simple and casual. No strings. Just sex. But you were friends. And co-workers. So, you were both incredibly careful. 

But then you remembered the night in the hospital. Well, medical bay. 

10 weeks prior, you’d both been on a mission that left you more than worse for wear. Stage 4 concussion, three broken ribs, the rest severely bruised, cuts and scrapes to the rest of your body and loss of memory for the first 24 hours. 

But, on your final check-up, you were left by the doctors, alone, in your room. 

During your stay, Clint had come almost every night to sit with you. Even helped you get to and from the bathroom when the lights were too bright and your entire body felt like it had just been hit by a 1000 tonne truck. 

Other nights, when he wasn’t helping you to and from the bathroom, he’d lie with you and you’d both sit and watch some crappy old movies that Clint had managed to find. Some were better than others, but even then, you’d both fall asleep half way through. 

But, after 10 weeks, you had your final check up and Clint came to see you. 

You both talked for a while, about what was to come. What missions would be given, when you were going to be put back into the field, what he had done to Natasha to make her so mad that she came to you to ask for help in getting back at him. 

And then he sat beside you and asked how you were feeling. 

“Like I want to get out of here.” you had answered honestly. “I just want to get back to normal.”

“And your head? You took quite the hit.” Clint pushed a strand of hair from your face so he could see you more clearly. 

“The concussion has gone but I still have a small headache.”

“You know, there are ways to get rid of that.”

You smirked, already having an idea on where Clint was going with this. “So, I’ve heard.”

“Maybe I could help you out?”

“Really? How so?”

Slowly, Clint moved closer to you before you continued to lie back until he was flush against you and the mattress where he slowly kissed your neck. 

“Well, there is the usual. Yoga,” a kiss, “Sleep,” another, “some weird tea that probably tastes like nail polish remover,” another kiss. “And then there's my idea. And, it technically hits two of the three.”

“Oh, really?” you laughed as he continued to press his lips against your skin. “And what is that?”

“I think you already know, baby.”

You smiled before his lips met yours. From there, your bodies took over. Your hands came up his side before pushing their way through his hair. His knee pressed between your thighs, teasing you ever so slightly. Meanwhile, his hands gripped at your hips pulling you closer as a moan emptied itself into his mouth. 

“Let me take care of you,” you heard him tell you before his lips moved back down your neck, leaving a trail of, come by morning, love bites in their wake. 

Usually, you were both so careful. But that night…that night you just wanted each other. Needed each other, even. You let him take care of you; his fingers pressing into your skin just hard enough to make you want more, his lips and tongue leaving marks across your body that only made it yearn for more, his knee pressing against you before he replaced it with his hand, his fingers curling up inside of you. All the while, he watched you curse underneath him, swear to God, swear to anyone who would hear your cries of pleasure. He felt your hands roam his body until he finally moved himself to your core where he felt your fingers and nails run themselves down the back of his head and neck, begging him for more. 

You climaxed twice before he entered you, and even then, you came again. 

He was the only man who had done this to you. Others, they had come close, but it was never like this. Clint took his time, teasing your body in ways you didn’t know would have you begging for him to the point where you felt as if it was going to last forever. 

And afterwards, he’d take care of you then, too. He’d wipe away any wetness from you before handing you a glass of water and helping you stand despite wanting to fall asleep in his arms there and then. By the time you’d get back from the bathroom, he’d hand you a t-shirt of his that just covered you - but still, if you weren’t both so relaxed, he’d take you there and then…again. 

And you’d let him. 

But that night, rather than using any safe measurements, it all remained unprotected. Something that would only come to your mind after being sat in the bathroom for an hour and half, staring at the two very pink lines on the white stick. 

It took you three days to initially come to terms with what was about to happen. Even then, you hadn’t fully accepted it. You were pregnant with Clint’s baby. And in 9 to 10 months, that baby will be born, hopefully healthy, and soon enough would be an exact share of your and Clint’s DNA.

On the fourth day, you went in search of Clint. And, you found him in his bedroom at the compound. 

After giving your knock, he called for you to come in. 

“It’s unlocked!”

The moment you entered, you locked the door behind you. 

“Clint?”

“In here.”

Tony had created a connecting room for him to practise against targets so when you entered he had his arrow drawn and released it on bullseye. 

“Hey,”

“Hey.”

“We need to talk.”

“I’m all ears.” 

You nodded. Mostly, his focus was on the targets so at least that made it easier not having to look him in the eye. 

“Okay, I’ll just get to it,” you took a breath, clasping your hands together. “I’m pregnant.”

The arrow that Clint had drawn and intended to go through bullseye once more…landed in the wall. 

“You’re…”

“Pregnant,” you nodded. “9 weeks, I think, at least.”

“When did…”

“Three days ago. I know, I’m freaking out, too.”

Clint looked back to the targets, not knowing where else to look. 

“I just thought you should know.”

Clint nodded before backing up and sitting down on one of the chairs beside the wall. 

“You’re pregnant?”

You nodded. “Yep.”

“And I’m gonna be…”

“Yep.”

“Huh.”

You moved to sit beside him. “I know. Believe me, I’m still trying to wrap my head around the whole thing.”

“Does anyone else know?”

You shook your head. “No.”

“You’re really pregnant?”

Sighing, you lifted your hips from the chair to pull the fresh pregnancy test from your back pocket. “Pretty positive.”

You handed him the test where he let out a small gasp, covering his mouth as he looked down at the two pink lines. 

“Look, I don’t know what I’m doing.” you said. “And…if you don’t want to be involved, I’ll figure it out. But, I want you. I want you to be involved.”

“No, no, no,” Clint cut you off. Despite the fact he was in complete shock, something he was certain of was…”I wanna…I wanna be involved. If we’re in this, we’re in this together.”

You nodded after a moment. It was nice to have some support and know you’re not alone in your fear. 

Clint soon looked back to the stick before reaching over and taking your hand in his. “We’re gonna have a baby.”

You could see a small smile growing on his face, which mirrored itself on yours. “We’re gonna have a baby.”

A small laugh came from Clint’s lips before he pulled you closer into a hug, the pair of you looking at the double lines before he turned and looked to your stomach. You weren’t showing yet, but you would be soon. 

Gently, Clint lay his hand over your stomach before you placed both of your hands over his. 

“We can do this, right?”

“We’ll figure it out.”

You smiled. “Okay.”

It took a while to figure out how to tell people since they didn’t know you and Clint were together in the first place. But, one morning when Sam had woken up and found you in the kitchen, reading, whilst Clint cooked breakfast, he offered you a cup of coffee. 

Usually, you’d never turn one down. And always had it at full strength. 

Only, for the last couple of weeks, Sam hadn’t seen you with a coffee or even a beer on a Friday night. He also hadn’t seen you in the sparring ring for a while. Typically, you’d usually be against him or Clint and within seconds, you had them on the ground. That was a tactic neither of them could figure out. 

“Are you on a cleanse or something?”

“Why?” 

Clint looked over his shoulder to you, only to see your eyes focused on Sam. 

“Because you haven’t been drinking coffee or any kind of alcohol or caffeine.” Sam said before letting out a chuckle to himself as he poured himself a coffee. “Either that or you’re pregnant.”

Silence settled over the room and the moment you and Clint locked eyes, having a telepathic 

conversation between one another…Sam noticed. 

Confusion was the first thing he felt. Why on earth would you and Clint look at one another like you had a secret? 

“What? What is it?”

Clint tilted his head quickly. It was up to you. 

You nodded and turned back to Sam. 

“Actually…”

Sam put his coffee down and stepped back. “Wait, you’re…?”

“Pregnant.”

“Holy- Oh my - Holy shit.” Sam broke out in a smile before rounding the kitchen island and hugging you. “Holy shit, you’re actually- wow. Wait, who’s the-”

Then when Clint came behind you, laying a plate of food in front of you, and you looked at him, Sam took another step back. “Oh my God.”

“No-one else knows so, please, can you keep this to yourself for now?” You asked. “We’re still trying to figure out how to tell people.”

“I didn’t even know you two were, like, a thing.”

“Technically, we weren’t.”

“But you’re having a kid together?”

You nodded. “But, please, Sam, keep this to yourself for now.”

“Keep what to himself?” Bucky entered the kitchen. 

“Nothing.” Sam answered walking back to his coffee. 

Bucky, with narrowed eyes, made his way around the kitchen. His eyes barely left Sam. “Oh, come on, you can’t keep a secret to save your life.”

“I can.”

“Not with me. Took you all of five minutes to tell me that Jessica from accounting is having twins.” Bucky said before he saw a bead of sweat drip down the back of Sam’s neck as his eyes widened for a split second before looking at you. “Oh, my God. You’re pregnant.”

“How did you-”

“Told you. He can’t keep a secret from me. Also, you haven’t drunk a single ounce of coffee in, like, four weeks. So, it’s either that or you’re on a cleanse. And you would never give up coffee voluntarily.”

“Well, if you know everything, Einstein,” Sam turned to Bucky. “Who’s the dad?”

“Barton.”

You dropped your fork, finishing your mouthful before looking to Bucky with the expression of Oh, for God’s sake. How? Meanwhile, Sam seemed slightly offended and confused at the fact Bucky seemed to have the whole thing figured out. 

“What? She’s wearing his shirt.” 

You looked down and realised it was true. How had you not even noticed?

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone. But, you should tell people soon or else they’re gonna figure it out. Also, you might want to add more ginger to your meals.” Bucky added. “It’ll help with the morning sickness.”

“How the hell do you know all of this?” 

Bucky shrugged, sipping his own coffee. “I had to help a woman give birth in a small town in Germany. When I came back, I figured it was more likely to happen so I read a couple books. I can lend them to you, if you want.”

It was safe to say you, Clint and Sam were more confused over Bucky’s hidden history as a midwife than your and Clint’s relationship and baby. 

“So, when’s your first scan?”

“Okay, this conversation’s too weird for me. Can we please change the subject?”

“Can we see the pictures when you do?” Sam asked. “I wanna see a picture of my nephew or niece. I call ‘favourite uncle’.”

“Who says you get it?” 

“I do.” Sam told Bucky. “We all know Nat’s gonna have first dibs at Aunt. I call Uncle.”

“What about me? Or Steve?”

“Steve’s everyone’s Grandpa. He gets that title.”

Whilst the two idiots in front of you argued over the title of ‘favourite uncle’ before eventually coming to the decision that the kid will decide, Clint had come behind you, taking your empty plate from you. 

“What do you say we make a run for it? Someone will find them and ask them what they’re arguing about. Let them tell the rest of the team.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Slipping yourself from the stand, you felt Clint take your hand in his before you both made a run for it out of the kitchen, down the hall and into Clint’s bedroom. 

Miraculously, you both managed to shower and get dressed, packing a small bag before making a run for it and not being stopped or called by anyone. 

Clint drove you both out of town for a couple of hours to a small town clinic. They were small enough to know that they were away from Shield’s radar as well as the Avengers. And, with barely any people in the waiting room, there were no people trying to report news over why you and Hawkeye were in a maternity ward. 

The doctor called your name and you and Clint headed inside where you lay on the bed and began asking questions about your health and when you think you got pregnant before covering the lower half of your stomach in cold gel and began the ultrasound. 

“One thing I will say is that you have to be careful. I understand the professions you two are in, but where you can, rest. Try not to lift anything heavy over your head as it can strain your lower back,” the doctor gave you both some more advice before they moved to find the baby’s heartbeat. 

“See this, right here?” you and Clint looked at the monitor. “That’s your baby and this…” a small galloping sound from the speakers. “is your baby’s heartbeat.”

As one hand lay below your head, your other was in Clint’s hand. Swiftly, he brought your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckle as you both watched the monitor and listened to the sound of your baby’s heartbeat. 

“Oh, my God.” It brought tears to both of your eyes. 

“I’ll get you some pictures printed off.”

“Thank you, Doc.”

“Clint,” his eyes didn’t leave the monitor until you looked at him. “That’s our baby.”

“That’s our baby.” Clint smiled back before leaning in and pressing a quick kiss to your lips before laying his arm around you, both of you looking at the monitor. 

The doctor handed you some paper towels to wipe the gel from your stomach before leaving the room for a moment to grab a couple of information pamphlets and other small things that would help you and Clint on your journey. 

By the time you got back into the car, you and Clint simply looked at the photos you had been given. From the pile, Clint tore one away and placed it in his sun visor.

The rest of the day, you and Clint drove around the small town, taking in a couple of the sights, eating at their ‘Number One Diner’ before hitting a couple of smaller stores, buying a couple of baby things. Thankfully, anyone that you ran into didn’t seem to have a clue who you or Clint were. Either that, or they simply didn’t care. That made it a lot easier to buy baby clothes and books. 

And, by the time the sun was setting over the horizon, you and Clint sat on the hood of his car, your laps covered by a checked blanket and a soda in your lap, Clint’s phone rang. 

“Who is it?”

“Nat.”

The moment Clint answered, Natasha was already speaking. 

“You’re having a baby and you left the members of Sesame Street to tell me?”

Clint turned to you, “They’ve blabbed.”

“Wow. Took longer than I thought.” You said, looking at your watch. 

“Is she with you?” Natasha asked. 

“Yeah.”

“Good, tell her I’m mad at her, too.” 

“Nat said she’s mad at you.”

“She’s mad at you, too.”

“Guess we’re gonna have to find someone else to be this kid’s favourite Aunt.”

“Whoa, hey-”

“Guess we could ask Wanda?” you suggested. “Or maybe your Rookie?”

“Kate? Really?” Clint asked. “She is the closest in age to the kid. What about-”

“Hey, hey! Do not give my title away! I did not fight to save your life to have my title of favourite Aunt thrown to some Rookie.”

“You like Kate.”

“Besides the point.” Natasha brushed off. “That title stays with me.”

“What do you think? Should we let her?”

“Is she still mad at us?”

“I don’t think she can be if we give her the title.”

“Okay then,” you smiled before taking a sip of your soda. “You only get the title if you’re not mad at us.”

“Fine, hold on a sec,” in the background you heard Nat shout for Steve. “Rogers, be mad at Barton for me.”

“He threatened to take away your title?” you and Clint heard Steve laugh before the phone was passed to him. 

“Maybe.”

“Hey Clint.” Steve said. “Congrats, man. We’re all really happy for the two of you.”

“Thanks. That means a lot.”

“Just a word of warning, though.” Steve began. “Tony’s already started clearing a space out in the compound for a nursery so if you two thought you’d be moving out, I don’t think Tony will let you leave.”

“Thanks for the warning.”

“What is it?” you asked Clint. 

“You know how we talked about finding a house?” you nodded. “That’s not gonna happen.”

“Tony?”

“Yep.”

You smiled with a small chuckle. “Figures.”

Steve hung up soon after that, leaving you and Clint in your own little world for a while to watch the stars and moon settle over the land.

Over the next couple of weeks, time was spent between telling Shield and HR about what was going on and getting ready for what was to come. Hill gave you both a grilling but, off the record, she was happy for the both of you. Fury had done the same thing, fully expecting an invite to the baby shower. You had also been assigned to desk duty and advising from over Skype. 

Clint could see you were getting agitated so he pulled a couple strings to get you into teaching the new recruits. It wouldn’t be a job that would put you into danger and it would keep you busy just enough for you not to be completely bored. 

The nights you spent by Clint’s side. Each night you’d both ready a couple of the parenting books you’d bought from the small town outside the city or what Bucky had gifted. 

Neither of you had really talked about what your status was together. The nurses at the hospital had referred to Clint as your husband, something neither of you had corrected. Not that you had noticed initially. 

Even the team had questioned it at certain points, but never when you were together. 

So, as you sat beside one another, reading over the books that spoke about ‘mom’ and ‘dad’, Clint turned to you. 

“What are we?”

“I don’t know.”

“Me either.”

“Are we even meant to be something?”

“Well, we’re co-parents, right?”

“Yeah.”

A silence settled over you both for a moment before you placed a hand on your belly and spoke before looking at Clint. “We can do this, right? Be parents together?”

“Of course we can.”

“Then why do I feel so out of my depth?” you asked. 

Clint sat up, pulling you with him. “Hey, look at me. We can do this.”

“What if we screw up, Clint?”

Wiping away the small tears from your eyes, Clint gave you a smile. “Then it means we’re parents. They all screw up, right? But, if we can’t do something, we’ll just send the kid to one of their aunts or uncles. This kid has got a big family. At least we can give the jobs of Birds and the Bees to someone else.”

You laughed. “Like Nat?”

“I love her, but probably not.”

You laughed again, wiping away the tears from your eyes, your emotions coming back into check. “Yeah, probably not. We should keep Bucky off that list, too.”

“Agreed.” Clint nodded. “What about Pepper?”

“We should probably tag team her with someone. She’s a strong woman but this kid is half you, half me. If it’s not awkward to begin with, it will be eventually.”

“That’s true.”

You and Clint shared a laugh as he took your hands in his, keeping his eyes on you before he moved closer and kissed your lips. He brushed the hair from your face, your hand coming to his wrist. For a moment, he thought you were about to push him away, but instead you brought him closer. 

The months passed with pain and pleasure. 

The further you got into your pregnancy, the more the nights became restless and the pain spread across your body. However, the only thing that seemed to remain pleasurable was being able to make a start on the nursery and the fact that your morning sickness had worn off. But also, having Clint by your side, knowing you weren’t alone in your fear or excitement…that made it all a little easier. 

Natasha, with the aid of Bucky and Sam - who she sent on errands to keep them out of her way - planned the baby shower where you and Clint found out the gender of your baby and learned that Fury, Clint, Sam (by default as he and Bucky flipped a coin for which gender they guessed), Wanda and Yelena were the only ones to guess correctly. 

A baby girl. 

The moment the pink powder released from the target as Clint shot a single arrow to its centre, everyone erupted in cheers and shouts of enjoyment. 

Yelena and Sam rubbed their success in Kate and Bucky’s face, respectfully, whilst Hill handed Fury 20 bucks and Clint came to find you, hugging you tightly from behind and you looked with joy to the pink powder. 

“We’re having a girl.”

“We’re having a girl,” you confirmed with a smile. 

Eventually, your due date came…and passed. 

You were already on maternity leave, so your days passed slower than usual. Clint would come in and check on you at lunch and on his breaks. 

Your days were spent in uncomfortable pain, watching crappy movies and tv shows. Sometimes, someone from the team would come and sit with you and Sam and Bucky had taken a liking to Bake Off - it led to them sitting in the kitchen, baking sweet treats for you to try until you declared a winner. 

But, one afternoon, sitting outside with a book resting on your pregnant belly, watching the trainees run their drills on the ground, Steve came and joined you outside. 

“How are you doing, Momma?” 

You smiled as Steve stepped from the sliding door and sat at the end of where your feet were propped up on the sofa. 

“Eh,”

“That bad?”

You sighed, sitting up a little higher. “I love this kid, but I just want her out already. Come out, please.”

Steve chuckled as you held your belly and yelled in the hopes she’d hear you. 

She just kicked back. 

“As stubborn as her dad.”

“She’ll be here soon,” Steve smiled. “And you and Clint will have your hands full.”

“Can’t wait.” you said. “I like being busy. This,” you motioned around you, “I don’t like it.”

You and Steve sat and chatted for a while longer, mostly about the missions coming up and the books you had been reading. He’d leant you a couple which you had managed to finish in four days. 

But then…

You hissed in pain, holding your belly. 

“Whoa, you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine, just uncomfortable.”

Then the pain came again. “Ow, okay, no. That hurt. Ow!”

Steve sat up quickly, helping you as carefully as he could. “Come on, you need to get to the hospital.”

“I guess she heard me.” 

Steve laughed, and so did you - which only brought some more pain. 

“Clint, I need to call him.”

“I’ll call him on the way to the hospital.”

“He’s on the other side of town-”

Steve helped you inside, “He’ll get there. I promise.”

Then Bucky and Sam came around the corner. “Hey, are you okay?”

“She’s going into labour. Do you know where Clint put your hospital bag?”

“Bedroom, under the bed.” you told Steve who then gave the instructions to Sam and Bucky. 

“I’ll get the bag,” Sam shouted, running right before Bucky ran left. 

“I’ll bring the car around.”

“Steve, I’m scared.”

“I know, but you’re gonna be okay.”

Steve gave you a kind smile that reassured you of his promise. 

By the time you got downstairs, Sam and Bucky were rushing around like two headless chickens. Bucky hopped out of the driver’s seat and ran to the otherside, pulling the door open. Steve helped you inside before taking the keys from Bucky. 

“One of you needs to go and pick Clint up. Buck, take the bike.”

“On it.”

“Sam, go and find Natasha.” Steve commanded. “Let her and the others know what’s happening.”

“Steve!” 

“Okay, go.”

Steve jumped into the driver's seat before pulling out of the driveway and towards the hospital. On the way, he pressed a couple of buttons on the monitor inside the car, calling Clint. 

“Clint, listen to me, Bucky’s on his way to you.” Steve explained. 

“Is everything okay?”

“I’m going into labour! Ow, crap.”

“Oh, shit.”

“We’re on our way to the hospital now, just meet us there.”

“Okay,”

In the background, you heard the roaring of Bucky’s motorbike. He had to have driven through multiple red lights. 

“He’s here now. Honey? It’s gonna be okay.”

“Just get here, please. I’m not doing this without you. Argh, fuck.”

“I’ll be there.”

“Clint!” Bucky shouted. 

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.” you replied. “Just get here.”

“Clint we’re pulling in now,”

“Okay, I’m on my way.”

“Barton!”

As you were rolled into the labour suite, Steve kept watch for Clint before he came barrelling around the corner, not fully aware of where he was going. 

“Barton!”

Clint followed Steve’s voice in a circle until he finally spotted him and ran down the hall to your room. 

“How is she? Is she okay? Is the baby okay? What did the nurses say? Is everything-”

Steve took Clint by his shoulders. “Everything’s okay. They’ve just broken her waters so she’ll be giving birth soon enough. I’ll keep the others out here.”

“Thanks, and thank you, Steve.”

“No need,” Steve smiled. “Now go to her.”

Clint gave a final smile before entering the room and rushing over to you. And you couldn’t have held him tighter. 

“I’m scared, Clint.” you told him as the midwife came in and told you you were ready to give birth. 

“I know, baby. So am I, but you’ve got this, okay? Hey, look at me.” you looked at him as he held onto your hand. “You’ve got this. I love you,”

“I love you, too.”

It was only now that you realised today, of all days, was the first time you’d both told one another the truth of your feelings towards each other. 

Clint pressed a kiss to your lips. “Stay with me?”

He nodded. “Always.”

“Okay, dad, help her up.” the midwife called your name. “When I tell you to push, give me all the strength you can muster, okay?”

You hummed nervously. Maybe you were wrong. Maybe you wanted her to stay inside, for a little while longer. 

Clint held your hand the whole way through, pushing the stray hairs from your face and holding his arm across your back for support as you pushed and pushed and pushed until finally a cry rang out throughout the room. 

“You did it, mom. A beautiful baby girl.”

“You hear that?” Clint looked at you, smiling as he pushed the last couple of hairs from your face. “You did it, momma. She’s here.”

“She’s here? Is she okay?”

Clint looked over to the nurses and midwives measuring, cleaning and weighing your baby girl. “Yeah, yeah. They’re just cleaning her off.”

Clint had tears in his eyes as he looked back at you, pressing a kiss to your head and your lips. “You did it.”

Moments later, you were handed your baby girl wrapped in the blanket you and Clint had bought her all the way back when you had your first scan. 

Feeling her skin against yours, you felt your heart explode. 

Clint didn’t leave either of your sides once, looking down to his baby girl and the love of his life. 

“I love you, and I love her.”

“She’s so small.” 

A few hours later, you and Clint were sitting in a clean hospital bed, your baby girl in his arms as she slept. 

Wanda was the first to enter, Sam and Kate quickly followed behind before Bucky, Natasha and Steve followed suit. 

“Hey, can we come in?”

“Yeah, come on in, guys.”

“Hey, honey, how you feeling?” Wanda asked you, walking over. 

“Tired.”

“Can I see her?”

Clint carefully handed your daughter over to Wanda where Sam and Bucky stood around her. “She’s beautiful.” was the main repeated comment between the three of them. “And strong, too.”

“She gets that from her mom,” Clint smiled at you before looking towards Kate. 

“I brought you a couple things,” Kate told both you and Clint. “Figured everyone will be thinking about the baby, they’ll forget about you - and you’d probably forget about yourselves. So, your usual from Benny’s.” You praised Kate as a saint as she handed you the familiar paper bag. “Plus, a bag filled with every post-birth thing you could possibly need. Wendy has a Nurse-friend who has had, like, a gazillion kids, so she knows all the tricks of the trade.”

You smiled, hugging Kate. “Thank you.”

“Oh, and, Clint,” Kate handed him. “This is more for the baby, but I figured you could hold onto it for her until she grows up.”

Inside was a kid’s bow and arrow with an old, small carving in the top. 

K.B

And then underneath it, 

E.B

“Figured it should be passed down to the next generation of Hawkeyes,” 

Clint tried his best to keep his emotions in check as he smiled at the meaning of this gift. 

The bow and arrow that had once belonged to Kate now belonged to his daughter and when she was old enough, she could learn to shoot just like her dad. 

“Thank you, Kate. Really. This means…a lot.”

You rubbed your hand over his forearm before taking his hand in yours. 

After an hour, and lots of pictures, everyone else headed home and you and Clint were left with you baby girl, fast asleep in the hospital cot. 

“Our very own baby Hawkeye.” you smiled, leaning on Clint’s chest as his hand rested on the side of the cot, his eyes only leaving his daughter to look at you. 

“I never thought I could be this scared and happy at the same time.”

“Ditto.”

“We can do this, right?” Clint asked you. 

“She’s here now, we don’t have much of a choice.”

Clint chuckled and looked back at his daughter. “True. God, I can’t believe she’s here.”

“I know,” you smiled. 

Clint kissed the top of your head, holding you closer before looking at you. “I love you.”

You looked up to him and nodded. “I love you, too.”

Leaning down, he pressed a soft kiss to your lips before leaning his head against yours. 

“I know this is nearly 2 years, too late, but…do you want to get dinner with me tomorrow?”

You chuckled, smiling. “I’d love to.”

“Great, I’ll meet you here, 6 o’clock, Benny’s included? I’ll be the one sitting beside you.” 

Laying your arm over his stomach and leaning in closer, still smiling, you replied; “I can’t wait.”

Smiling, you could hear the thrill come from Clint’s heart inside his chest before he placed another kiss on your head and you both kept your eyes on your daughter. 

Your baby Hawkeye, Evelyn Natasha Barton.

[cherry-jamm]

𝐈 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐰

・❥・ You had no clue he was alive, but he didn’t know that

・❥・word count: 2k

・❥・warnings: mentions of death, mentions of past sexual abuse, ANGST, LOOSELY based off one scene from tsitp, my own hc of pre-vamp Astarion

・❥・ Has anyone else seen that one tsitp edit to Sign of the Times? No? Also it occurred to me that now 2/3 fics I’ve posted on this platform are about vampires, lord I fear I have a type, also also, let’s just pretend Astarion can remember his life pre-vamp, just pretend for me thank yewwwww

You adored your best friend more than words could describe. Anyone could tell how you admired him, just from how you looked at him. Astarion had always been very handsome, you struggled to look away from his gorgeously tanned skin, and his platinum curls. Your eyes caught on the strong curve of his nose and the way the sun highlighted his brown eyes. But he was more than just his appearance. He was clever and too charming for his own good.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Astarion would ask, his voice tinged with a teasing playfulness.

“Like what?”

“Like that.” ‘Like you’re in love with me’ is what he failed to say, but the message rang clear. The air thickened. You shrugged, eyes never breaking from his. He smiled and shook his head, the slightest bit of pink forming on his cheeks and the tips of his ears. For all that you adored him, Astarion would worship you.

Then one day, you stopped seeing Astarion. He didn’t show up to the cafe you two had planned on meeting at, perhaps he had fallen ill. He stopped showing up to work, a spontaneous vacation he had forgotten to tell you of in advance, possibly. He wasn’t home, everything had been just as it was left no longer than a week ago. A thin layer of dust covered the house, completely undisturbed. Another week had passed before you got closure.

“This is (y/n) (l/n)?” A large man asked. He had knocked at your door late at night, a heavy hood over his eyes. You hesitantly nodded in confirmation. “You were close with Astarion Ancunin correct?” He asked.

“Correct.” You replied slowly, your curiosity peaked, along with your worry, anything could have happened to your best friend, he could be anywhere.

“I’m here on behalf of Cazador Szarr, to inform you of Astarion’s passing.” He nodded coolly as if he hadn’t just delivered the worst news one could deliver.

“How?” Your voice was quieter than you wished it to be.

“He was murdered on Cazador’s estate. We’ve been unable to determine who killed him, but we are working diligently to bring him to justice.” The hooded man assured. Tears welled in your eyes, your throat closed in on itself. You nodded quickly and closed the door once the man had left.

You never saw Astarion’s body. It was a morbid thought, sure. To wish to see the mutilated corpse of your best friend was a sentiment not shared by many. You assumed his body had already been handed off, most likely to his parents. Oh Gods, you wonder if his mother has seen the cold mangled body of her young son. You’d have to check on her eventually. You wonder if he was handled with care. Did the hooded man carry Astarion in his arms to pass him onto his father? Or was he perhaps shipped in a cramped box, tossed on their doorstep with no regard to the remains of the young boy, who had so much life ahead of him?

You lost track of how long you mourned. You would never see him again. You’d never hear his voice, look into his beautiful brown eyes. You missed him so bad it would keep you up at night, your head hurt from staying awake so long, yet your chest hurt from the idea of falling asleep and having a singular moment of not thinking of him.

After a while, you finally started to allow yourself to rest. After that, you began letting yourself enjoy things. You started getting invited to large parties hosted by Cazador, as some effort to apologize for the tragedy that had befallen your closest friend on his property. A cold case as it had been declared after almost a month. You attended a few, you couldn’t help but be made uncomfortable by the atmosphere, the guests seemed off, and you couldn’t help but feel like you were being watched every time you set foot near Cazador’s palace, for no particular reason. Perhaps it was Astarion’s ghost keeping watch over you.

It had been your first time leaving Baldur’s Gate in years. Except for a short trip to your and Astarion’s parents you had taken a few weeks after his death, you hadn’t left in the many years since his untimely demise. You still remember that trip vividly, the smell of the countryside, and how everyone seemed to walk on eggshells to avoid speaking of the no-longer-present boy.

You weren’t doing anything particularly important on this trip, simply looking around at whatever there was to find. You had found your way to a busy market, scents of fresh bread and lavender and bright silky fabrics overwhelmed your senses when one thing caught your attention. A head of platinum curls. The head turned towards you and you swear you felt your heart drop into your stomach.

It was him, Astarion, undoubtedly. He’s changed, barely recognizable if you hadn’t known him like the back of your hand. You felt like you would be sick, seeing the dead boy clearly not dead. His once sun-kissed skin was now a ghastly shade of white. Cinnamon brown eyes now ran a shade of red, dark as blood. It was jarring, seeing the boy you once loved so suddenly in such a vastly different state. Yet, his nose remained the same, as did his high cheekbones, his hair hadn’t changed one bit, except perhaps it was a bit messier now.

“Astarion!” You yelled before you could stop yourself. Your feet carried you to him as if it was second nature to be as close to him as possible. “Astarion!” His head turned towards you, his ruby red eyes giving you a once over before widening in surprise. You saw him take a step back, like a scared dog. You stopped running, only a few steps away from him. “How? How are you here right now?”

“I’m sorry who are you?” He asks. His eyes tell exactly what his mouth won’t, the same way they always have. He knows exactly who you are.

“Don’t play dumb.” You start, he flinches away. “You know who I am.” A few people look over at him, friends you presume. You inspect each of them, what a team he’s gathered. One of the few, a rather tall tiefling walks up to you with her fists clenched. As she approached it was like heat radiated off of her. She was about to open her mouth when a man who seemed rather keen on minding his own business stopped her. She continued glaring. “We need to talk.” You hissed to the man in front of you.

“Whatever it is that you want, I can’t provide.” His voice shook ever so slightly. Anger rose in you, he had left for 200 years and been presumed dead only to reappear and act as if he was scared of you.

“Astarion.” You said, warning in your tone. Silence hangs in the air for an uncomfortable amount of time. “We need to talk.” You repeated. “Alone.” You could only imagine how you looked to his friends at the moment, a strange person running towards Astarion and insisting on privacy for a conversation. You hardly cared at the moment, too lost in inspecting every curve and line of your best friend’s face. After a second he looked towards the group and nodded them away wordlessly, he held the gaze of the tiefling a second longer.

“Well, guide the way.” He said in a faux confident manner. You huffed and turned on your heel. You lead him away from the bustle of the market, somewhere you two were ensured privacy. You found yourself near a murky pond, shaded by trees, and inhabited by large bullfrogs. Just as it became most important for you to speak, you felt your throat close up. Your mouth ran dry as you looked at him.

“I thought you were dead.” Your voice held a mixture of anger and hurt. You felt tears sting your eyes and you tried to blink them away.

“You’ve done quite enough, you don’t need to lie to me now.” He said. His eyes were wider now, his lips were pressed in a thin line. In stark contrast to the confident way he had held himself around his companions.

“I- what?” You asked breathlessly.

“I said you shouldn’t lie.”

“I’m not.”

“You have some nerve.” Astarion started. He pointed an accusatory finger at you, his face now flushed red. “Coming after me after Gods know how long, only to pretend you didn’t see me at my worst? When I was nothing more than Cazador’s spawn. You disregarded me then, why do you think you have the right to crawl back to me now.”

You felt hot tears dare to fall out of your eyes at his seemingly unwarranted anger. He looked at you like you were nothing but a monster. “Cazador’s spawn?” You repeated quietly. “You mean you- you’re-” You sputtered. You felt like the air had been punched from your chest.

“A vampire?” He scoffed. “You really should stop acting clueless, it’s hard to watch.”

“I am clueless.” You shot back immediately. “I had no idea, I-I thought you were dead. I heard the news that you had been murdered.” Tears fell down your cheeks and dripped down your chin before you could stop them. You sucked in a harsh breath. “If I had known you were alive I would’ve fought for you.” Your hands reached out to his chest, you didn’t know if you were trying to push him away or bring him closer.

“What?”

“Fought for you! I would’ve fought for you, through everything. I would’ve been there for you!” You sobbed.

“I thought you knew!” His hands found yours on his chest. His skin was ice cold and you almost hissed from the temperature change. “Cazador had told me you knew."

"You think I would've just abandoned you?" You cried, gripping onto the fabric of his shirt.

"You were at the parties!"

"And I had no idea you were there!" You insisted. Your salty tears clung to your lashes, and your throat hurt from yelling. "You should've told me!"

"How? How would I have told you?" His crimson eyes bore into yours.

"I don't know! I just wish I could've been there for you! I would've helped you, no matter what." Your voice broke off as you cried. Astarion didn't cry, he barely made an expression as he looked at you. “I’m sorry.” You whispered, your voice quivering. “I’m so sorry.” He still didn’t make much of an expression.

“You should go.” He said after a beat of silence.

“W-what?”

“I said you should go, anywhere but here.”

“I’m not leaving you again, Astarion.”

“Well I don’t want you here.” He insisted.

“Why not?” Your voice raised.

“Because if you stay any longer I think I’ll fall back in love with you.” His voice was quiet and collected. Your voice died in your throat.

“Fall back in love?” You murmured, as if speaking it too loudly would make it untrue. “You were in love with me?”

He ran his hand through his hair and looked away from you. He took a step back. “Yes.” He hesitated. “I was. Which made it all the more heartbreaking when Cazador,” he spit the name with enough venom to burn right through you. “told me that he had told you about my… transformation, offered me to you as a warm, or cold, body, and you declined. He said you simply didn’t wish to see me anymore, that you were glad to never speak to me again.” He inhaled a shaky breath. “Which is a?”

“Lie.” You finished for him. “I was told that you had died. Cazador had one of his men tell me you had been murdered. I was too lost in grief to question any further. Clearly I should have.” You laughed humorlessly. “I mourned you. Everyday. For years.”

“You did?”

“I did.” You sighed. “And I did it because I loved you. With everything I had.” Awkward stillness came once again. “Can I kiss you-” You were cut off by feeling Astarion’s cold hands grab your cheeks softly and pull you into a short, tender kiss.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered. He laughed airily.

“What are you apologizing for?”

“For not being there.” He took a deep breath.

“Well… you’re here now.”

“And I don’t plan on leaving.” You finished

[stardusthuntress]

To Speak Without Words - Ch. 1

Crosshair x female!reader (she/her pronouns for now, might get spicy later) 

Word Count: ~2k 

Tantis Rescue AU! I’ve had this idea for ages, and now that S3 has rescued Omega and Crosshair it dawned on me that I never actually posted this one! Seems like there’s no better time to post it than now! (also: TECH LIVES!!)

Summary: (mini-series) Crosshair starts to fall for the woman he’s rescued with. She has learned to read him easier than just about anyone else he’s ever met. He learns her too. 

TW: Crosshair has PTSD, and Hunter is still learning how to deal with it. Speaking of, it starts with a flashback to a torture scene… while Crosshiar is still in Hemlock’s custody (well, Hemlock thinks it’s more like ownership, but who needs his opinion anyways); I do mention that they both get back in the fight later, but it’s not a big focus, comparitively

A/N: So, I’ve had this for ages, but I thought I needed more to it before I posted it… turns out it’s pretty complete as is! And now that we’ve actually gotten to see the Tantis exfil and Crosshair and Omega return to the gang, I realized I really needed to just post the darned thing! I just want to say, I didn’t change this to fit anything from S3, it’s been written like this for ages, I just fixed some typos before I posted it, so S3 has not been an influence here! 

PS. This is my FIRST Crosshair fic on here!!! WHOOOOOO!!!

PPS. I promise I'll get back to the "Right Attire" posts soon! Just needed to get this one out of my WIPs!

Crosshair banners from @/djarrex, hyperspace banners my own!

He’s barely conscious. Voices enter the room. All are familiar, but not in a good way. But only one has a name he can vaguely remember, something to do with something deadly, like a poison… Hemlock! That was his name. The name sank like a rock in his mind, and took his stomach with it. Nothing good was coming, that was for sure. 

But one was new. A female. She seemed as upset as his stomach felt. But despite how queasy he felt, this he needed to see, to understand why she was here and whether he knew her. 

Slowly, he opened his eyes. At first, everything was a blur… gradually, his eyes focused on her face. He’d never seen her before, but the fear and pain he saw on her features was more than familiar… and then the memory faded…

Snippets of other memories flash through his mind, all out of order. His mind is beginning to block out large chunks of his captivity… 

Hemlock’s voice broke through the haze of it all, “I see those paternal instincts your batch mates displayed still exist, but unfortunately, I need the little girl for another experiment.” He turns to the TK’s standing guard, “Remove her from the room.” Then turns back to Crosshair lying on the table, “Let’s see what other animalistic emotions you tend to display. I know you recently gave up your disdain for, what did you call them, ‘Regs’? How about the civilians you thought you were protecting?” Hemlock once again turns towards the guards in the hallway, “bring the woman in.” 

Flashes of moments of both of their agonies as they both did their best to conceal their ‘animalistic tendencies’, as Hemlock put it, flash through Crosshair’s mind. Doing their best not to become attached to the person at the other end of the table, but the need to protect them was as inevitable as if they had been sharing a bunk. 

She’d been dozing off against her corner of the cold, hard table, sitting on the floor, arms chained to the corner above her. 

Crosshair was sitting across from her, attached to the foot of the table in much the same manner, doing his best to stay awake while she slept. They always took turns, so they’d have warning when Hemlock showed up. 

She woke up with a start when Crosshair nudged her with his foot. She looked at him, bracing for bad news, but he simply nodded towarads the door. 

“Shield!” Crosshair announced, he could see the corridor more clearly than she could from his spot at the foot of the table. 

She reacted instinctively, knowing that word meant protecting her face and neck as best as she could. No sooner had she done so than the wall that had been blocking her view of the corridor was blown away in a blast that rocked the whole room. 

When the dust settled she found a rough-looking man staring Crosshair down. 

Her head was still ringing from the blast, but it seemed like the man was mad at Crosshair. 

Hunter looked down at Crosshair’s battered form, leaning wearily against the wall. “One question for you brother… why? Why did you aim it at me before rescuing the kid?” 

There was a pause, while a disgruntled man with a device wrapping around the back of his head knealt down and began drilling away at the cuffs restraining Crosshair. 

“I could ask you the same question.” Came Crosshair’s venomous reply. 

Both men tensed, like they were preparing for a fight. 

“NO!” She shouted, tugging against her restraints, reaching for Cross with her feet in a meager attempt to shield him from the wrath of the long-haired man. 

“Here, lemme help you, little lady,” a voice spoke up from beside her, and thick arms reached around her and took ahold of the cuffs around her wrists, easily ripping through the restraints anchoring her to the table, snapping the cuffs in half without hurting her wrists at all. But she barely noticed, as soon as she was free she launched herself across the room and put herself between Crosshair and the tattooed man. 

“NO.” She said firmly. “Don’t hurt him.”

“I wasn’t going to, Sweetheart. He’s my brother. Just wanted to knock some sense into him, that’s all.” 

“Don’t. Touch. Him.” She backed up towards Crosshair, stumbling, barely able to keep herself on her feet, until her back bumped his chest. Crosshair’s hand found her shoulder, and she knew it was an attempt to steady them both. 

“I won’t hurt him.” The tattooed man said. “I promise. I’m Hunter by the way. What’s your name, Hun?” 

Crosshair’s grip on her shoulder tightened. A warning. Both to her and Hunter. Reminding them both that she had Crosshair’s protection. 

Hunter raised his hands to emphasize his point, “I won’t hurt either of you. But we gotta get you both out of here, it’s a long way, and neither of you look so stable on your feet.” He held out a hand in offering, but the two clung tightly to each other. Strange. Crosshair prided himself of never needing anyone, even his brothers. Clearly, they were used to only having each other and a hard time. Hunter retracted his hand. “I’ll be with you the whole way, I’ll do my best to catch you if you fall.” 

She glanced over her shoulder at Crosshair. He’d never told her about his squad, but Hemlock had done his best to pry information about them from him. She knew who they were, and that Crosshair refused to tell anyone about them, but she didn’t know why. She didn’t know if he still trusted them. One nod was all it took to confirm that they were ok, but the anger in his eyes, as he stared Hunter down, told her volumes. 

Days later, Crosshair and Hunter end up in a big argument, no one caught how it started or why exactly, but she can’t stand it. She has to step in. 

“But you still don’t SEE him, Hunter!” 

“You wouldn’t know. You weren’t there.” Hunter defends, his words heavy with his own pain. 

“I know— “

“—She knows.” Crosshair’s reply is curt, angry, and pained, and Hunter notices he won’t hold eye contact anymore, but he’s not sure why. He thinks it has to do with that annoying need to get attention only to ignore it when he does have it. 

“Hemlock had security camera footage,” she says quietly. 

Hunter’s cold, angry exterior begins to soften. “I take it he used it against… when he…uhh…” 

“Sorta,” she confirms. 

Crosshair is staring pointedly at one spot on the ground. There’s nothing there. But he can’t look at anyone right now. Not when thinking about what the two of them went through back there. 

She puts a hand on his arm. 

He tenses beneath her touch, but doesn’t push it off. 

She steps forward, slowly, and leans her head against his temple. 

“We’re both safe now,” Hunter can hear her whisper to him. “I’m okay now.”

What was that second thing she’d said? I’m okay now? Hunter’s mind was reeling. That wasn’t what he was expecting her to say. Had he heard her right? For once, he questioned his heightened hearing. 

She turns the conversation back on Hunter to take the attention off of Crosshair so he has a moment to breathe and return to himself. 

“Hunter, listen, I know you want Crosshair to communicate more. But you know Crosshair prefers to use actions to communicate instead of words. And yet when he does use actions to communicate, you ignore them.”

Hunter is stunned into silence. He has no idea what to say nor what to look for. 

She continues, “You said he aimed his blaster at you before rescuing Omega from the wreckage, and yet you did the same thing back in the training room, right before they destroyed everything.” 

She still pets Crosshair’s head and neck, as he hides his face in her neck, “You said Crosshair didn’t care about any of you, even the kid, after he chose the Empire, and yet he still managed to get a message to you, plan 88, remember?… he was caught and tortured immediately after.”

On her shoulder, she can feel Crosshair’s breathing returning to a normal, slower pattern, but he still needs more time, so she continues, “You know Crosshair never misses his mark, he keeps his target in the crosshairs, hence the name. And yet, whenever he found himself fighting against you boys… well, you’re still here. Doesn’t that tell you a lot?” 

Hunter is staring at his brother now, worry on his face as Crosshair begins to surface from the woman’s shoulder, but she’s not done yet. 

“Do you know how long he waited on that platform on Kamino before the Empire found him? Do you know what it’s like to have that much time alone with your thoughts, and yet he still warned you with plan 88. And you weren’t there when he disappeared in the ice and snow on a frozen world, returning a few days later nearly frozen to death with a dying reg on his shoulder, and then ending his commanding officer when the reg died because no one gave him medical care.” 

Crosshair’s eyes were misty and distant as he turned his body towards Hunter, though he still refused to look at him. “He saved me first.” Was all he said. 

Hunter stepped forward slowly, placing a hesitant hand on Crosshair’s shoulder and raising his eyebrows to tell him he did want to hear more. 

“I stepped on a mine. He saved me first. We were the last troops stationed at the outpost.” 

“Just two men to protect an entire outpost?” Hunter asked, trying to understand what his brother had gone through and what the empire’s strategy was in it. 

“Raiders wiped out the rest. Empire refused to send more. I was the last—” but Crosshair’s voice broke on the last word, he couldn’t finish it. 

Hunter stood there, confused and startled. He’d never seen Crosshair like this. He’d seen him mad and upset as a cadet, but never like this. 

The woman gently tugged Crosshair back towards her so she could whisper in his ear. 

“Then it’s a good thing you’re still here to remember him, to remember them all. Even the ones you never met. I know we can’t get them back, but we can remember them and what they mean to us, regardless of whether we tell anyone else about it.” 

He nodded, and once again hid his face in the crook of her neck as fresh waves of emotion silently racked his body. 

Hunter watched, helplessly. He didn’t know what to do. Until she yanked him over by his wrist, and dragged him to sit down on the floor with Crosshair between them. 

Unbenounced to the three of them, the others had been hiding just out of sight, but close enough to listen in. Tech got up from his spot, crouched beside Wrecker and Echo in the dark hallway, and quietly walked over to the tangle of limbs. Without saying a word, he took off his chest plate and sat down behind Crosshair, their backs pressing together. 

Crosshair did not react, nor give any signal of acknowledgment, but he didn’t need to. Right now, he just needed to let it out. 

After a moment or two, Wrecker and Echo entered too, each doing the same as Tech, joining the group without saying anything, just there, leaning against each other. Even little omega emerged from her room and snuggled in between Hunter and cross, Lula tucked in her arms. 

It took Hunter a long while to think through what he could say that would help, if anything actually could… until he finally settled on a simple sentence, hoping it would be enough. 

“I’m so sorry I was so blind to what you were trying to say, Brother.” 

Crosshair’s grip on Hunter tightened. 

Hunter took that as a good sign. 

“I’ll try to do better,” he offered. 

They woke in the morning, still in a giant cuddle pile on the floor of the ship….

Please don’t steal my work! I pour my heart into these so if you like it please reblog to share instead of reposting it! And NO dropping it into an AI to finish it for me! That’s stealing my work and feeding it to an AI without my consent. It is not okay to give an AI something you didn’t write yourself! 

[mandobatemans]

intrigue (Tom Wambsgans x f!reader)

warnings: infidelity, fingering, unprotected piv sex, soft!dom tom, size kink kinda, biting, greg, do NOT have sex with the head of conservative news organizations irl!!!, i am a shivcel fr anything negative abt shiv in here i didn't mean it ily siobhan 🫶, NSFW UNDER THE CUT

word count: 4,740 (i got carried away)

A/N: this is loosely based on s4 e7 but there's no real timeline so it probably takes place like somewhere around season 3 or 4? this is my first succ fic so...enjoy 🤗 & also this took me SO long to write i'm so deeply sorry to anyone who was waiting

also posted to ao3

Tom had never been a fan of the whole “open marriage” arrangement. When he thought back to that fateful night (fateful night…who else would say that about their wedding night?) what he remembered most was the look on Shiv’s face when she told him that she wanted an open marriage. On their wedding night.

It was more for Shiv anyway. Tom rarely thought about actually acting on the arrangement, whether it be out of love for Shiv or loyalty to her father, he wasn’t sure. Sure, he had kissed someone here or done oral there when high on coke, but he had never actually fucked anyone else.

Something was different, though, tonight. Firstly, they were hosting a Waystar/ATN event at their apartment, and despite being chairman of ATN, he wasn't even sure what the evening was for. Shiv had told him about it last minute, casually mentioning it as they were being driven to work, like it was dinner at Logan’s rather than hundreds of media moguls and politicians to host. Actually, dinner at Logan’s felt equally, if not more, important than tonight. A better equivalent for how nonchalantly Shiv had mentioned it would be Connor inviting them somewhere.

Secondly, Shiv had suggested, outright, that they both find someone to hook up with at the party tonight. Earlier in their bedroom, after getting dressed in silence, Shiv had turned to Tom while putting her earrings in to share the idea. He knew she would be acting on it whether or not he did, and why shouldn’t he? It had been a while since he had gotten laid and was verbally (and physically) assaulting Greg a lot more as a result.

Did he just pick someone? How did you approach someone and say, “Hey, I’m in an open marriage but I’ve never actually done anything more than get my dick sucked with anyone else…anyway, let’s fuck!”

Tom fidgeted with his glass as he surveyed the room.

Despite your personal beliefs and the endless human rights violations that Waystar was affiliated with, their (and by extension ATN) events were some of the most lavish you'd ever attended. As a political journalist, it was standard for your company to send a journalist or two to whatever soirée the Roys were throwing. Everyone took turns, and this time you had drawn the short straw. It hadn’t been too bad so far, you thought, although perhaps you were jinxing yourself. You had kept to yourself mostly, chatting with other journalists you frequently saw around the city on assignments, snacking on the hors d'oeuvres, and listening to the ridiculous conversations political and media bigwigs were having.

You had been to an event hosted by the Roys before, but they were usually at ATN, Waystar, or some expensive venue. Being invited as a member of the press to Shiv Roy’s apartment felt strangely intimate. You were certain this was some calculated business move on the part of one Roy or the other, but you honestly didn’t really care. Whatever drama was happening within Waystar Royco was contained within the Roy family. You were simply here to supplement a piece your coworker was writing on the atmosphere of this political season.

It was only an hour into the party when you had collected all the quotes and interviews you needed, and sampled almost all of the hors d'oeuvres. Your boss expected journalists to stay for most, if not all, of the night for these things, in case some political bombshell were to happen. You were pretty sure nothing too monumental was going to happen in this room full of suits, especially with all of the Roys notably absent from the festivities. Even Shiv, whose house it was, looked like she wasn't paying any attention to what was going on in her home. In fact, she had been in the corner all night, talking to some prominent New York and D.C. women, important enough that you knew their faces but not important enough for you to attach any names to them.

You checked your phone for the time. You could probably get away with leaving in another hour if you made up some family emergency as an excuse for your editor. Even another hour seemed like ages. Maybe you could re-interview some people? Speak to some guests whose quotes would never make it in the article just to kill time? Sighing, you opened your messages, thumbs hovering over the chat with your editor, putting your journalism degree to use by brainstorming an excuse to get you back home in your bed before ten o’clock. When you turned around to pace while you typed (a nervous habit), you found yourself face-to-face with one of your hosts.

It felt like a fucking cliché. Literally bumping into someone at a party? If one of your writer friends wrote something like this, you'd tell them it was bullshit and things like that didn't happen in real life. Yet here you were, inches away from–

“Tom Wambsgans, Chairman of Global Broadcast News at ATN.” He introduced himself, reaching out a hand for you to shake.

You returned the handshake, grateful that he wasn’t offended by you bumping into him. “I know who you are.”

“And I know who you are.” He paused. “That sounded stalkerish, didn’t it? I meant, I know who you are because I’ve read your articles.”

“You have?” You were surprised. Your company and your articles in particular were considered left-leaning, the very opposite of the stories ATN ran.

He nodded. “Gotta keep up with the competition. I’ve seen some of your features on the network, as well.”

“Really? I would have thought you would just watch ATN all day,” you teased.

Tom made a face and then shook his head. “No, no, no. Plus, I wouldn’t really call any of our journalists ‘journalists’ so much as pretty faces. You do your own research and look good on the camera. That’s impressive.”

You raised an eyebrow and Tom’s eyes widened, processing what he had just said.

“God, I do sound like a fucking stalker.”

You laughed, “Just a little bit.” You let him cringe for a second, then smiled to reassure him. “No, but I’ve seen some of your interviews since you took over ATN. You look good on the camera, too.” You paused, before adding, “Maybe that makes us both a little stalkerish.”

His eyes lit up at your response, earning a genuine laugh (the first one that night not faked for some suit, he noted).

“Uh, sorry for bumping into you. I wasn't looking where I was going,” you explained, waving your phone in your hand for context.

“Ah, cell phone. The curse of the twenty-first century.”

You furrowed your brow involuntarily for a moment. He wasn't how you expected the spouse of a Roy to be like. Whether that was a good thing or a bad thing, you weren't yet sure.

“I’m making a huge ass of myself, aren't I?” He sighed. “I’ll leave you to the party–”

“No! It’s okay. Stay,” you heard yourself say. It was Tom’s turn to raise an eyebrow. Okay. You found him attractive. And even despite his eccentric comments, you also found yourself wanting to talk to him more. You were, however, purposely avoiding looking at the wedding ring on his finger.

To Tom, it all seemed too perfect. You, for example. He was being honest when he said he had seen and read some of your work and that he enjoyed it, and he did sometimes watch other networks to get an idea of the competition, but he had left out the fact that there was something about you in particular that made him watch the entire segment when you happened to be on air. And the fact that sometimes he'd scroll through your articles online and imagine you reading them aloud to him. But he wasn’t a stalker. And now you were here, in his house, on the night that his wife had all but shoved him into the bed of anyone that he wanted.

But still; one pleasant, slightly flirtatious conversation didn't mean you wanted to ride off into the sunset with him. Or, more accurately, go upstairs with him.

He scanned the room for Siobhan. Although it had been her suggestion, and he knew she had acted on the arrangement before, he still felt like it was somehow a trap. Like she’d hire someone to hide behind the bedroom door that night and catch him with his pants down (literally) to use as blackmail.

But sure enough, she was across the room, laughing at something some lobbyist had said, and resting her hand on the other woman’s arm slightly longer than a casual touch would last.

The longer he thought about it, the more confident he felt. If you were interested, he wanted to spend the night with you. And maybe more. But he was getting ahead of himself.

“It's kind of loud over here. Come on,” he gestured with his head toward the opposite corner of the apartment, one not occupied by any guests save for an elderly politician snoring on the couch.

You followed him, nodding when he asked if you wanted another drink before picking a champagne flute off of a passing server’s tray. He handed it to you once you reached the corner, your hands touching during the exchange. It seemed like even more of a cliché to feel sparks fly at this tiny touch, so you ignored that, as well.

“You host these kinds of things often?” You asked, leaning against the wall and taking a sip of your champagne. The room was full of very important people, though none of them seemed to be talking about very important things. You couldn't quite wrap your head around why a high-level executive who had married into one of the largest media conglomerates was wasting his time talking to you (flirting with you?), but you had seen stranger things in this city.

He grimaced and shook his head. “No, no. I’m usually just a guest.” Tom laughed and took a sip of his drink. “And not a very important one, at that.”

“I’m sure that's not true. I mean, how many people watch ATN? And you’re in charge of what airs or doesn't air.”

“1.89 million,” he replied, taking a sip of his drink, “Outside of the office, nobody’s really worried about what I think.”

“Not even your wife?” You stopped after you said the words, giving your brain a second to catch up with your mouth. “I’m sorry, I didn't mean any disrespect, I–”

“No, no, no, no, it’s okay,” he assured you, reaching out to rest a hand on yours consolingly. Tom leaned in closer so only you would hear him, unnecessary considering the secluded corner you two were in.

“But no, not even my wife.”

Your eyes darted to his hand atop yours, suddenly aware of how large his hands were. They almost completely covered yours, and they felt so comfortable and right there, like–

“We have an open marriage,” he suddenly said.

“Oh.”

Tom seemed disappointed with this reaction, quickly removing his hand from yours and adding, “That’s just to say that, our marriage is, uh, unconventional, so her not caring what I have to say isn’t that unusual.”

You were still processing the feel of his hand on yours, much less the revelation that he actually might be flirting with you and that it actually might go somewhere. By the time your thoughts caught up with you, it seemed like he was about ready to excuse himself and go scream at his reflection in the bathroom.

“Well, I’m sorry about that,” you responded, mirroring his gesture from before and resting your hand on top of his to comfort him. “You don’t deserve that, really.”

He scoffed. “You don't know what I deserve.”

You looked up at him, taking the time to absorb the look in his eyes that revealed just how much he was going through.

“Uh, Tom?”

Tom rolled his eyes and turned away from you to snap at the source of the interruption. “What, Greg? Can’t you see I’m having a conversation?”

“It’s just–well, Shiv is leaving with someone.” The taller man gestured at the door, where sure enough, Shiv was weaving her way through the crowd toward the elevators with the lobbyist from earlier, her hand guiding her by the small of her back.

Tom bit the inside of his cheek. “Well, Greg, we do have an open marriage. So, everything’s fine. Now, scram.”

Greg looked between the two of you and hesitated for a second before nodding and disappearing back into the bustle of the party.

Tom turned back to you. “That’s Shiv’s cousin, Greg. I’ve sort of taken him under my corporate wing, so to speak. Showing him the ropes and all that.”

You nodded, finishing your champagne.

“Well,” he said.

“Well,” you echoed.

He paused for a minute, though it seemed to last much longer than that. “You’re writing an article about this party, right?”

“Yeah,” you responded, unsure of where he was going with this.

Tom leaned in, lowering his voice. “What would your editor say if you got a behind-the-scenes look at the party?”

You raised your eyebrow.

“Of course, you'd have to come upstairs…” Something shifted in his tone. You were well aware of what the change implied, and you’d be lying if you said you didn't want to jump at the offer. This wasn’t you, though. Sleeping with a married man? On top of that, not just any married man, but the host of the party that you were covering for work. It sounded like a problem you’d encounter on an Intro to Ethics exam. But any moral qualms you had about the issue were pushed out of your head when you registered the way Tom was looking at you.

“Of course,” you repeated, nonchalantly, setting your empty champagne glass on a nearby table.

Something flickered in Tom’s eyes. “Shall we?”

“Lead the way, Wambsgans,” you replied, gesturing dramatically.

Neither of you spoke for the entire walk away from the excitement of the party to the quiet of Tom’s bedroom. It looked much like you had expected it to look: modern, chic, and impersonal. You were sure Tom (or Shiv) had some personal items somewhere in the house, but the bedroom was so clean and styled that the only indication anyone slept or dressed in there was some of Shiv’s makeup and jewelry strewn haphazardly on the vanity.

When he had closed the door behind you, Tom stepped closer to you experimentally, as if he was afraid you'd flee like a wild deer if he moved too fast. You stepped closer as well, which seemed to give Tom the permission he was looking for. Within seconds, his mouth was on yours, his hands cupping your face, all tongue and teeth. There was hunger and desperation in the kiss, but it was hypnotizing, beckoning you deeper and deeper. He was almost doubled over to reach you (god, he was tall), so you shifted your weight to stand on your tiptoes.

Tom broke the kiss, leaving you with a confused look on your face.

He shed his suit jacket, throwing it carelessly on the floor. Next, he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt to his elbows. Tugging on the length of his tie, he loosened it enough to undo a few buttons at his collar, revealing an inviting expanse of chest hair.

“Turn around,” he told you, snapping you out of your male-stripper-fantasy gaze.

You did as he said, something in his tone going straight to your core. You felt him run his hands from your shoulders down your arms, then down your hips and up to your waist, the action bunching up the fabric of your dress. He moved your hair to the side, pressing hot kisses to your neck that made your eyes roll back.

“Can I take this off?” He whispered, his lips trailing up to your ear.

You nodded in response, trembling momentarily under his touch. Tom unzipped your dress, helping you push it down your body and step out of it. He unhooked the back of your bra without moving further. It occurred to you then how wrong this was, to be sleeping with someone else’s husband in their own bedroom, but to your surprise, you didn’t care. The only thing you cared about was the heat of Tom’s gaze on your bare back. You took your bra off the rest of the way and discarded it on the ground next to your dress. Once in only your underwear, you turned back around to face him, watching his eyes follow every curve of your body to drink in the newly exposed skin.

“Wow,” he said, simply, reaching out to grab you by the hips and pull you closer to him. “You’re gorgeous.”

Grinning, you stood on your tiptoes to kiss him again, cradling his face in your hands. You felt him smile back into your kiss. Before you knew it, he had you pressed against the wall, totally enclosed by his larger form. He went from kissing you on your lips to your neck to behind your ear to your chest, as if he couldn't decide which spot deserved the most attention or for how long.

One of his hands slid down to the waistband of your underwear, the cold metal of his wedding ring a shock against your hot skin. You made eye contact with him as his hand slipped between the fabric and your skin cup your cunt, whining when you felt his touch. He seemed to get off on that, capturing you in a kiss again at the same time he slipped a digit into your wet heat. You were too hot; you pressed your hand to his chest to stabilize yourself and pushed your underwear down your legs and kicked them off. Tom smiled at this, getting right back to pumping his finger in and out at a pace that almost made you melt down the wall.

It was probably a power trip thing, you thought, you totally naked and him almost fully clothed. You didn't mind because it was kinda hot, but it wasn't what you had expected from Tom based on the unassuming, Midwestern image of him that was circulated in columns and by the Roys themselves. But, then again, you hadn't expected to find yourself in this position at all when you left your apartment earlier that night.

The pace of his fingers felt so good, so intoxicating, that now that you had him, you needed more of him.

“A-another one,” you whined between kisses.

When you opened your eyes to look at him, Tom had a smug look on his face. Sure, it was arrogant, but it turned you on, so who really cared? “Yeah?” he asked, “You want another one?”

“Tom,” you hissed, gripping onto his shoulder as his finger curled in just the right way that it made your legs go numb.

The look remained on his face, but he added another finger nonetheless. Tom appeared to inhabit both extremes when it came to sex: he really wanted to pleasure you but he also really wanted to do what he wanted. Luckily, those two wants aligned.

He was making you feel so good that you needed to have more of him. Your kisses got sloppier, each so desperate to be further molded with one another that your tongues tried to push impossibly further into the other’s. Tom shifted his hand so he could angle his thumb to rub slow, tantalizing circles on your clit as he continued to pump his fingers. Your grip on his shoulder tightened–you feared your fingernails would leave dents in his skin–but like so many other things tonight, you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You could feel the pressure rising in your middle, your cunt clenching around his fingers in anticipation of your impending orgasm, but then it stopped.

You opened your eyes that you hadn't realized were squeezed shut to look at Tom, who had his hand in front of your face, fingers glistening with your slick. “Open,” he encouraged. You obeyed, accepting his fingers into your mouth and licking them clean with a ‘pop.’ He stared at you like you had hung the stars in the sky. He jerked his head toward the bed. “Sit.”

There was authority in his commands, but you didn’t fear him; from the short amount of time you had spent with him, you knew he was at his core a sweet man. You would admit to yourself that you had been curious how his awkward, nervous energy would translate into the bedroom, but once alone, he seemed to be a different man.

You watched him strip off the rest of his clothes eagerly, smiling up at him once he rejoined you on the bed totally naked. He must’ve noticed you staring, because he asked: “Do you want me to put on a condom?”

You shrugged, shifting your eyes back up to his own. “No, it’s okay. I'm on birth control.”

He sighed in relief. “Good. I don't even know if I have one in here.”

“Then why’d you ask?” You laughed, encouraged by the smile that crossed his face when you did so.

“Seemed like the gentlemanly thing to do. If you said yes, I would’ve sent someone to go get one or borrowed one from–”

“Tom?”

“Yeah?”

“Just fuck me already.”

“Alright. If you say so,” he teased, leaning down over you to kiss you. Both your lips were red and puffy from all the kissing and some biting, but it didn’t matter. You could feel his cock pushing against your stomach from the angle, so you reached down to take him in your hand and pump his length.

“Fuck,” he murmured against your skin, face buried in your neck as he pressed kisses to the every inch of available flesh, “Fuck…Can I?”

“Please,” you responded, noticing a little desperate hitch in your voice that you ignored. Tom licked his hand and cupped your sex with it, running the pads of his middle fingers through your folds a few times to collect the wetness between your legs. Gently, he guided his length into your opening

inch by inch, watching your face for any sign of discomfort before bottoming out.

You should’ve expected his dick to be big from his height, the size of his hands, his nose, whatever, but you hadn’t considered just how big. It was quite a stretch to take him fully, but he gave you all the time you needed to adjust and get comfortable. When you were ready, you bucked your hips up into his to give him the okay.

Tom took your permission to move and ran with it, grabbing your left leg and placing it over his shoulder before pressing you down further into the mattress with his body weight so he could thrust into you at a deeper angle.

You lifted your head to meet him to return to making out, the sensation of his tongue down your throat even more erotic now that he was inside of you, as well.

His thrusts were deep but not as aggressive as he had been with his fingers. He wouldn’t vocalize this, or even admit to himself that he was thinking this, but he wanted this to last. As much as it was supposed to be a hookup–emotionless sex–he found himself wanting it to happen again, despite his attempts to push those thoughts deep into the recesses of his mind.

One arm was thrown around Tom’s neck, hand gripping a fistful of his hair. Your other hand went down to your clit, beginning to rub circles to match the pace of his thrusts.

“You wanna cum again?” He teased, “Again, when I haven't cum once?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, playfully, slipping your finger down from your clit to lightly stroke the length of his cock that wasn't fully inside of you.

He let out a moan, eyes twinkling as he snapped his hips a little harder, snickering when you gasped in response.

Tom caught you in another kiss, resting his weight on his forearm that was positioned next to your head. You arched your back up into him, urging him deeper, which he obliged. “Touch yourself,” he said, disconnecting his mouth from yours just long enough to give the command.

You smiled into his lips, rubbing your clit again as his thrusts became sloppier and jerkier. He was holding on until you came again, despite his earlier cockiness. The moment he felt your walls tighten around him, he let go, spilling inside of you with a grunt.

He pulled out, rolling off of you to lay beside you.

Tom was still catching his breath, and you watched his chest heave for a few moments. “Hey, you okay?” He asked. “Everything alright?”

You smiled, nodding and reaching over to kiss him again. “I'm good, yeah. You?”

“Perfect, actually.” Tom smiled back at you. He found himself lost in the moment, lost in your eyes, lost in the connection you two had just had, and it was too much for him. Quickly, he sat up, ready to change the subject. “You need to clean up?”

You furrowed your brow at the sudden shift in his demeanor, but going along with it nonetheless. Despite him just having been inside you, you didn't feel like it was your place to mention the change. “Yeah. Can I?” You asked, gesturing vaguely toward the bathroom.

“Yeah. Oh, yeah. Go ahead. Towels are above the sink.”

You flung your legs over the side of the bed and stood, heading toward the bathroom. “I’ll just clean off real quick, then I’ll be out of your hair.”

“No, no, no. I mean, you can stay the night. If you’d like, that is. I could call you a car, though, if I’ve made some awful faux pas and you don’t want to look at me for another–”

“Tom.” He focused on you again after his brief spiral. “I would like to stay.”

He grinned. “Great, that's great.”

“Just let me–” You waved your hands around your lower body, “–clean all this up.”

“Yeah, of course, sure. I’ll be here.” He added the last part in a quasi-sing-song voice.

At the sound of the shower turning on, Tom rose to locate his clothes and try to clean up. He pulled his boxers back on, taking his dress shirt, pants, & jacket to be thrown into the hamper. They really should be dry-cleaned, he considered, but found that he couldn’t be bothered. As for your clothes, he wasn’t sure what exactly to do with them, so he laid your dress across a chair in the bedroom and left your bra and underwear on the floor. He was still considering whether he should pick them up or not when you came out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around your torso.

Once you had dressed in your undergarments again and Tom had given you an undershirt to sleep in, you started to wonder what all this meant. If it had just been a hookup, why were you staying the night? You had thought you’d feel dirty and disgusted with yourself, spending the night in someone else’s bed with someone else’s husband, but you didn’t. You didn’t know what that said about you, what it meant that you were perfectly comfortable talking into the night with Tom, both laughing and sharing stories long after you had agreed to turn the lights off and get some sleep. That almost made it worse, you thought, that it wasn’t just sex. That made it dangerous.

After you had drifted off, Tom spent a few minutes watching you sleep. He tucked a stray hair behind your ear, watching the worries of the day wash off your face while you slept. He knew it was wrong to be more comfortable in this bed with you than he was with his own wife. But that was something to deal with (or repress) in the morning. Here, now, with you wrapped in his and Shiv’s bedsheets, your form against his chest rising and falling with his breaths, he could pretend it was meant to be like this.

@swiftcession @greenwrldsz @zirrocom @lukas-matsson @ledtassoo @bluecruz97 @rita-lean @grainyimag3

[mammalsofaction]

Hi I wanted to ask you about a fanfic idea? You don’t have to answer this but I have a couple ideas and I’ve been to busy to really put it to use.

You know in the movie into the 2nd dimension where Perry’s able to hold up 2 kids, 1 teen, and a fully grown evil scientist. I thought of the idea of what would happen if his host family saw that or if he got a bit to rough with Dr d during a fight.

You might have already had this idea or have even already done it but i thought it would be a fun short fic or something.

Early Days

Rating: G

Relationships: Bg Lawrence Fletcher/Linda Flynn-Fletcher

Characters: Linda Flynn-Fletcher, Lawrence Fletcher, Perry the Platypus, Heinz Doofenshmirtz mentioned, Flynn Fletcher siblings mentioned

Add tags: Non graphic depiction of violence, non graphic depiction of injuries, family feels, light angst, PnF S1 Hail Doofania, human Perry the Platypus, mute Perry the Platypus

A/N: This takes place in the early days of Perry and Heinz's nemesis ship. In the episode Hail Doofania in S1, Perry spends almost the entire episode wearing a protective collar. His flashback shows us that Heinz pushed him down a sandpaper making factory that tore up the fur on his body, making Linda suspect he's scratching himself up due to some sort of rash.

In the human!Perry version, I take this further to mean that he's wearing some sort of neck brace, meaning that Heinz had--at some point early in their relationship--had hurt him quite bad. I thought it's fitting to fulfil the ask. Perry still calls Heinz 'Doofenshmirtz'.

This fic mainly centres around Perry's relationship with Linda and Lawrence, and how they worry for him. The boys are maybe 5 years old here, making Candace 10.

If you want to understand the reference to Ferb's mom, i recommend reading my human Perry lore post linked in my pinned post.

Im sorry this took so long @salty-frenchfry . Between life happening and my laptop going Ka-put, finding the time to properly address this ask took longer than I'd like. I never forgot it though! I hope this little short is ok 😭

---

In his line of work, injuries were unavoidable.

Often times, they were easy enough to hide. Bruises were most common. Perry's long since taken to keeping a spare set of make-up with a replenishable bottle of concealer on his person, whether that be the dash of his hovercar or the storage box beneath the seat of his scooter. And what the concealer couldn't hide, his sleeves and long trouser pants could.

He's good enough at what he does. That being said, sometimes Doofenshmirtz gets a lucky shot.

Linda stormed into his private ward like an avenging angel, and Lawrence trails behind her in a more sedate, nevertheless eager pace. The nurse, as well as a be-suited nameless OWCA insurance representative slips out silently to leave him to their harried concerns, though not before the former sends him a small smile for good luck. The married couple barely notices.

"What happened?" Linda demands. Lawrence makes himself at home in the bedside chair, letting his wife take charge of the mother henning for now. "The hospital told us you'd gotten involved in a car accident? Oh Perry, your handsome face." She cried, bottom lip wobbling, and if Perry didn't have his left hand in a cast and his body completely leaden with drugs, he would have reached out to reassure her. As it was, he could only attempt to do what he can with a strained smile.

He hadn't known, until this point, what excuse OWCA had given the Flynn Fletchers to obfuscate the circumstances surrounding the severity of his injuries, but he really should have guessed. OWCA loved car accidents. In truth, he'd lost his balance over the edge of a rooftop while fighting with Doofenshmirtz, and he'd somehow managed to push Perry over. Perry had fallen through a roof of a sandpaper making factory, down 20 feet onto some crates and toppling heavy machinery. He'd almost broken his neck, fractured his left wrist, dislocated his left knee joint (the side that had broken his fall) and his face looks like he'd gone 5 rounds with Mohammad Ali. Thankfully he'd found he'd managed to thwart Doofenshmirtz's scheme anyway (he'd thrown a shoe into the revealed gearwork of his Unpaved-Inator, a machine designed to revert paved walk lanes into unstable cobbled paths. As if Danville didn't suffer from enough sabotage in terms of accessible walkable infrastructure), so at the very least, it was not a complete failure. The paperwork would've been impossible, instead of just insufferable.

He'd been given a voice to text machine by his bedside by his functional hand, a small voice box in respect to his disability, and he uses it to lie in it's emotionless vaguely feminine robotic voice. "T-boned into a truck running a red light." He says. OWCA would take this lie and run with it later. "Thrown onto the road. Think it slipped."

Linda and Lawrence made appropriately sympathetic noises. When Perry lolled his head to the side, he realizes his brother-in-law looks far more haggard than he'd initially noticed; red rimmed eyes and a glassy smile. Stiff upper lip. Well. Ferb had gotten it from someone. "You'd scared the children out of their wits, Perry." He says quietly, likely to conceal the shaking in his voice. "They're waiting in the car as we speak. None of us had quite the appetite for dinner after we'd gotten the news."

The strained smile slips into a slightly more sincere, more painful smirk. "Just the kids?" Perry asked, and Lawrence barks in laughter that sounds far too similar to a sob.

He can't imagine what he sees, what it must've been for him to have gotten the news. OWCA had told him it was a car accident too, for Ferb's mother nearly 5 years ago to the dot, now.

He'd not even got to see the body, then.

His heart squeezes in guilt, an all too familiar ache. Lawrence had been through enough: the point of a stable nemesis ship was to avoid injuries of such a caliber. To provide stability, safety. Security. Perry didn't want Linda, didn't want the kids, to ever worry about whether he would come home, especially not with the line of work he tells them he's involved in.

A gentle knock on the door heralds a familiar face: a specialist Perry had seen once or twice walking down the corridors of OWCA's medical bay as an emergency field medic, sans the white fedora with a red band denoting his position within the organisation.

This time he was simply wearing a signature Doctor's lab coat, holding a clipboard and flanked by a pocky young adult in scrubs, buzzing with caffeine. "Flynn-Fletchers?" He requested gently. Linda makes an affirmative noise, and the duo welcomes themselves inside the ward with that familiar professional smile.

"He's got banged up pretty bad out there." The doctor offers in a vague, sympathetic manner. "Has he told you what happened?"

Perry thinks he sees Lawrence and Linda share an unreadable look. "A car accident." Lawrence echoes hesitantly. "With a truck?"

The unnamed doctor nods, writing something down on his clipboard, likely the cover story he would need to report back to Francis shortly. "The impact had broken his collar bones and given him a mild concussion." He reports. The pocky nurse at hands out a print of Perry's X-ray reports, and Perry watches the married couple analyse the given print like it was anything comprehensible. "He'd landed on his left side, fracturing his left wrist, up to the back of his ulna, so we're casting it for now. No surgery beyond the one we've done to his collarbones immediately upon his arrival to the AnE, which has already been covered by his work insurance."

This seems to surprise Linda. " As an accountant?"

The doctor doesn't even blink. "Seems like it. Good health insurance plan. We're assigning him to a couple more days in the hospital to watch over his condition, and about 2 months bedrest before he can go back to work. If everything goes smoothly, we can discharge him by the end of the week. Any questions?"

"Paid vacation?"

It's a question asked through the robotic monotone of Perry's given voicebox. The doctor gives Perry a secretive, sympathetic smile for the unspoken concerns he understands far too well. "I'm afraid you will have to ask your superiors. My influence remain within these walls, I'm afraid. But I'll put in a good word."

Perry sighs. It comes out weaselly and creaky, and Lawrence reaches forward to squeeze his uninjured shoulder in reassurance. "Thanks, doc." Perry says, because he wasn't an animal.

"My pleasure." He says, which must've been some sort of cue. The pocky nurse moves to exit, leaving them with the X-Ray prints, and holding the door open. "I'll let you get your rest, and you may refer to Consultation for any questions regarding visitation hours. We'll be able to greenlight him tomorrow."

Linda and Lawrence thank him, watching him leave before they redirect their attention back to Perry's prone form.

Linda has her lips pursed in displeasure. "Your boss doesn't really want you back so soon after your accident, would they?"

Perry sighs again. This time, the exhales brings his attention to his parched throat. "I can't say." He types into the voicebox. It's not the answer she was looking for, he can tell from the continued sour look of her face. Lawrence face becomes even more pained.

"Can you promise you won't be doing this again?" He requests, and while his throat and his guilt tears him from the inside out, Perry lets himself chuckle lightly.

"I can't help these things, Lawrence."

The silence that follows is heavy with things Perry feels they're both keeping from each other. Linda sits heavily in the chair next to her husband, and reaches out to squeeze his hand, hanging limply by the armrest. Lawrence looks him in the eye, pointedly silent, and he smiles something wane and unreadable.

"No," he says. "No, I don't suppose you can."

[b4mpyre-k1zz3s]

Three Nights in Mexico

Mexico- a beautiful, vast country that Y/N would have otherwise loved to visit if she didn’t have to be responsible for a gang of grown children while she was there.

Johnny Knoxville X Fem!Reader

(Fluff)

4.1k Words

Warnings: Suggestive content, drug mention, alcohol use, one night stands, nudity, skinny dipping, cavity searches, vomit, waterborne disease

An: Thank you so much for sending in requests! This is the only Manager!Y/N fic I’ve written about a place I’ve actually been to! XD As a note, if you have not tried a concha I am URGING you to those things r to die for! Also, the incident described in the beginning of this fic was actually based off of a real thing that Steve-O did! Anyways, thank you for the requests and please keep them coming!

The guys were full of giggles as you sat around in those uncomfortable plastic chairs in the Mexican customs office. You started to feel that you were the only person who was taking this remotely seriously, given the fact Knoxville was capturing this whole thing on the camcorder you knew he wasn’t supposed to have there. Even Steve, who was currently receiving a full cavity search on the other side of the very thin wall, thought what was happening was comedy gold. But you really couldn’t feel too bad for him- after all, it was his decision to ask the security agent if he could lay on his back and go through the baggage X-Ray machine (you still had no idea why he let him), and he did intentionally put that condom full of cocaine in his ass as a part of that “Drug Mule” stunt he was planning for the new movie. To nobody’s surprise, the oblong shape in his colon raised a couple red flags. Your heart went out to whatever poor, latex-gloved security agent was currently feeling around in him. For a while, there was nothing but stifled snickers while everyone in the waiting area held their breath, before it was broken by a yelp from the other room and that familiar raspy voice, “Ah- dude! Aren’t you supposed’t take me out to dinner first or somethin’?” How did you even let this happen?

Your high school level understanding of Spanish wasn't helping you in the slightest as you tried to bargain with the custom’s officer, “Uh…¡Necesito ir ahora! ¡Muy urgente, señor!” Why couldn’t it be Bam or Ryan or Johnny who got pulled back there instead of the one guy in the group that actually spoke the damn language? From the other side of the room, Chris raised his hand and chuckled, trying his hand at reasoning with the buff man in the uniform you were pleading, “Hey! I mean- I could stand in for him!” Turning to shoot a ‘shut the fuck up’ glare back at him, you went back to what you were doing. “¡Ellos son actores muy famosos! Yo soy sus agente.” He didn’t budge.

It was moments like these that made you nostalgic for that time you had to bail Steve out of airport custody after that time he had the idea for an awesome stunt- trying to see how long he could keep a cigarette lit inside of a federally owned building: not very long. Sighing, you thought back to that piece of advice Jeff let you in on from his Wildboyz days of traveling abroad with these idiots. For a while you considered if you would really stoop so low as to follow his word, but considering the circumstances, you didn’t really have a choice. Blinking hard under the white fluorescent lights, you hesitantly pulled your wallet out with a sigh and, as sneakily as you could, slipped a couple five-hundred peso notes into the custom officer’s waiting hand. He looked at you, then to the other agents who all clearly saw what you did, and made a gesture to them to open the door.

Knoxville couldn’t believe it. A lady such as yourself, who was always so damn adamant about them obeying the law- did you actually just bribe a customs officer? He didn’t think you had it in you. The entire ride to your hotel in that shitty, little, not private at all shuttle bus full of all the other idiot tourists, he caught a glance here and there of you with this amused look on his face as he just imagined all the ways he was going to hold this over your head. But you didn’t notice- you had better things to worry about, such as the fact Ryan was currently fast asleep on your shoulder and didn’t show any signs of waking up any time soon, or the million questions Bam had been pressing you with since you left the airport. Even after you told him that no, just because it’s not a great idea drink the tap water in Mexico doesn’t mean he should avoid showers or brushing his teeth like the plague and yes, they do have alcohol other than beer and tequila here (including whiskey, which he was particularly concerned about), he still had more damn questions. “Hey- hey, Y/N. D’they have skate parks in Mexico?” Wordlessly nodding, you leaned your head against the cool bus window. “What about McDonald’s- d’they have that?” You squeezed your eyes shut at his insistence- it was like dealing with a four year old. Groaning, you rubbed the space between your eyes, “Yes, Bam. They have McDonald’s in Mexico.” You knew his high school education didn’t leave him with the most awareness of the world outside of the states, but you didn’t think he was that stupid. Christ- he’d been to Cabo for Viva La Bam! Letting out a sigh of relief, Bam sat back in the stiff little bus seat that probably hadn’t been cleaned in years and nodded, thinking out loud, “I could make do with that, yeah...”

That night, after everyone got unpacked, the guys decided to go out to have a few drinks, especially after a bit of animated convincing and high inference language from Steve, who went on and on about how they were gonna fuckin’ party tonight, and that last time he was in Mexico he was just swarmed with chicks who were fiending for a piece of the ole’ Steve-O. Hearing that, the guys were more than eager to jump at that opportunity, leaving you and Ryan, who was too tired to party that night, to sit back in the room. Taking a sip from the bottle in his hand, he looked up with half lidded eyes and held it out to you, “Want some?” You shrugged from where you sat on the bed as your eyes stayed fixed on whatever movie was playing on hotel cable. “Nah, m’alright.”

The night went by pretty quietly after that- for you, of course: you watched some tv and got to bed at eleven or so. It wouldn’t be until the next day where you would catch word of all the shit that went down while you were peacefully asleep. And as the early morning sun came streaming in your window picturesquely, you stirred in your bed to discover that Bam, who was fast asleep, was lying by your side, which is both a nightmare you had definitely had before and a sentence you never thought you’d say. Panicking, you peeled his arms off of you and hurriedly sat up to survey the damage, notably the fact that the room was completely empty besides the three of you- three including Ryan, who felt as if he’d spent the night with his head in the minibar and was about this close to vomiting in his shoe, still hadn’t left his chair and was slowly blinking awake. “Ryan! What the hell happened last night?” Groggily, at first, he began to recount the story he got secondhand from Bam.

Everything had been going fine until right about two am at the bar, because as we all know, the road to cultural understanding begins and ends with beer- well, tequila in Steve’s case. Three hours at the shitty little bar near the hotel, and Bam still couldn’t get a drink, which had absolutely nothing to do with his lack of language skills. They had been relying on Steve, which was getting hard considering how popular he was that night given how many shots he was buying for random strangers. Bam had to look up and yell to speak to him, due in part to both the loud music and the distance between the bar stool and on top of the bar where he was standing. “Hey-hey dude. Can you ask for some Jack Daniel’s?” Steve was more occupied with the cheering crowd he had attracted from the Payaso de Rodeo he was doing standing on the bar top, made more impressive was how well he was dancing after downing that fifth of tequila. Turning to the bartender with a grin, he held up two fingers and shouted, “¡Mas chupitos, por favor! ¡Mezcal!” There was only one word in that sentence Bam understood, and he was pretty sure the word for whisky is the same no matter what language you say it in. Johnny, who happened to be sitting next to him at the bar groaned, lamenting his own language barrier he encountered trying to chat up the hot chick next to him, and said no nobody in particular, “Not with the fuckin’ Spanish again…” as if they wernt in a country whose official language was Spanish. Throwing his hands in the air, Bam turned to him, exasperated, “That’s what I’m sayin’!”

That’s around when Bam decided to leave the bar, stumbling alone through the streets of Mexico City to get back to the room: hungry, sober, and mad about it. He found you and Ryan still awake. Ryan shot you a ‘what’s his problem?’ look as Bam threw himself onto the bed, but given your years of expereince dealing with his pissy nonsense, you could sort of read him. Angrilly grumbling to himself, he didn’t even hear you as you punched in the number for room service, “Hey, can I get a cheeseburger and a bottle of Jack Danniel’s up to room 107?”

In between ordering it and receiving the food, you had fallen asleep, completely missing the mumbling, half coherent rant Bam gave to nobody in particular, questioning why they couldn’t have filmed that desert shit in Arizona or New Mexico or some other fuckin’ place besides Mexico and lied and just said they went there, all while sounding more or less like a little kid asking his parents to bring him home from summer camp. He was ready to call it a night, which really just meant getting naked, but thank god that when there was a knock at the door, Bam at least had the decency to pull a shirt on before he went to answer it, assuming it was one of the guys getting back from the bar. The look on the delivery guy's face as he stared up at him from where he was setting the food down was priceless, made even more so by the fact that the shirt Bam grabbed was several inches shy of his crotch. All Dunn heard was the delivery guy’s panicked, stumbling footsteps as he dashed down the hallway and Bam, who was seemingly oblivious, didn’t question how it showed up or who ordered it as he brought the food in with a shrug, “Guy ran off quick.”

It was that point in the morning you decided to leave the boys and head to your own room. When you opened the door to do so, lo and behold, there was Johnny. In his underwear, laying face down in the hallway, and very not sneakily eating off of a room service tray that you knew wasn't yours. “Alright Knoxville,” As his eyes darted up to you like a guilty dog, you rubbed your temples and went into responsible adult mode, “let’s get’cha to bed…” You had to lean down and grab him under the arms to pull a little and get him to his feet, surely a funny sight especially given the fact he still had a little bit of someone else’s breakfast on his face, “Oh, you wanna go to bed with me?” Leave it to him to try and flirt with you as you were practically carrying him to his room. Given the fact he was still a little drunk, you were thankful you didn’t have to get them on set for a few hours and you hoped Johnny could just sleep it off. “Cmon, lay down...” That earned you an eyebrow raise and a crooked grin from him as he fell back against the mattress, something that you would’ve found charming if he didn’t have a very clear piss stain on the front of his boxers, “Ooh! An assertive woman…I like it!”

Still drunk, Johnny stared up at you from the bed with hearts in his eyes as his lips curled into a knowing half smirk and he shook his head, “Y/N- I still can’t believe y’bribed a cop…” At the mention of that incident at the customs office, your face dropped, flushing pink with embarrassment as Ryan blinked in disbelief, “Wait, who bribed a cop?” While you were out in the hallways, busy hauling in the six foot one man who was laying out there all by yourself, Bam had apparently woken up and was still snickering when you whipped your head around. “Oh my god- Y/N bribed a cop!” He was still laying on the bed shirtless, tangled up in the sheets like some kind of male model. “Yeah,” Ryan sat up, taking a swig of stale whiskey from the open bottle in his hand, “an’ you slept with her.” And the misunderstandings kept coming…Now Bam’s expression of wide eyed delebeif mimicked yours as he misconstrued the idea of sharing a bed with the image of the two of you fucking. “Wow…first a felony, now you’re screwin’ Bam? Never really pegged you for the wild type, Y/N.” Sighing, you shook your head as you tried not to let Johnny’s teasing get you flustered. It’s not like you wanted to admit that you actually kinda enjoyed it when he talked to you like that. You decided just to go back to your room and try to catch a few z’s before you had to get their asses up. As you went for the door, Bam buried his face in his pillow, groaning, “Ugh…I’m gonna be sick.” You had awoken to an ugly, half remembered montage of, ‘no it didn’t happen. it couldn’t have happened! that’s your story and you’re sticking to it.’s and all you wanted to do was go back to sleep.

So you did. Unfortunately, you were rudely woken up maybe an hour later by Jeff's call on the hotel room phone and you tried to make yourself sound more awake than you were, “What’s up?” In contrast to his usual tone, he sounded surprisingly calm on the other end of the line, “Hey, just calling to check in and make sure everyone’s ready to shoot. Be on set by 9!” Making a mental note of it, you pulled yourself to your feet and started getting dressed as you shot a glance at the clock. “Got it- yeah, we’re doing alright. But, now that I think about it, I don’t know where Chris or Steve are…” Suddenly, his tone sounded distinctly panicked, “Wait what?” but before you could try and explain yourself, Jeff was going off on you, “Listen, I’m not gonna be bailing these guys outta some- some Mexican jail somewhere! I need their asses on set for that cactus jump stunt today.” Before you had the chance to argue, he hung up. How the hell were you going to manage this?

The first thing Steve realized when he woke up with the sun in his eyes was that he was surrounded by dogs, which he was stoked about before he realized the fact he was also just asleep in an alleyway, which never meant anything good happened the night before. Sitting up groggily against the brick wall behind him to try and collect himself, all the street dogs that were sniffing and licking at Steve’s face quickly turned to what he only just noticed he was laying on- a bag of dog food. The dots took a while to connect in his head but eventually he put two and two together, reaching over to tear open the cloth bag. Pulling himself to his feet, Steve grinned to himself as he watched those little fellas chow down. Meanwhile, about half a mile away, Chris was waking up as well, only in maybe less ideal circumstances than his buddy did: laying on the sands of some public beach, ass naked, with no clue as to where the hell he was or how he got there. Pretty par for the course for those two.

After an hour of driving around, you eventually corralled everyone up, as uncomfortable it is to be trapped in a moving vehicle with a completely nude man. Better you than the police, you thought. You caught bits and pieces of their conversation, gradually piecing together the story as best you could: Steve and Chris, the last people in the bar that night, got thrown- not kicked, thrown out around three or four. They decided to call it a night, but before they headed back to the hotel, Steve told Chris he was gonna stop to take a piss. Before he got the chance to zip up his pants and make his way out of the alley he stepped into, Chris was long gone, having run off with two ladies from the bar who met up with him outside and seemed very eager to catch up with him. But still, you were thankful to finally have everyone together again. Hell, with the way things were going, you might actually have everyone on set on time today! You were feeling more relaxed than you had the entire trip as you opened the door for Chris and Steve, “Alright you two. Just get ready and meet me downstairs in five-“

As you would come to find out, it wasn't the thought of sleeping with you, which in Bam’s mind was on par with fucking your babysitter, that made him feel sick. Yep, you opened the door and there he was, regurgitating the contents of his stomach and not even having the decency to close the bathroom door behind him. Steve, in one of his seemingly random moments of wisdom, knew immediately what was up, “Drinks with ice?” From where his head was in the toilet, Bam nodded. Steve held up his hand to whisper to you, “Send him out with a bucket- he’ll be fine.” before turning back to Bam, “You’ll be alright. I mean, there’s worse you could have, man! Giardia, Montezuma’s Revenge…” You weren't the only person who was amazed at his medical knowledge as Chris looked over at him with wonder in his eyes, like a kid watching a magic trick, and chuckled, “Woah. You should be a doctor or somethin’…” Now that’s something you don’t want to see- Steve as a doctor.

That night, after Bam thankfully started feeling better, you made the poor decision of leaving the guys unsupervised at the pool under the assumption that there was only so much trouble they could start within a fenced-in area, like putting a toddler in a playpen. Oh, how wrong you were. You spent the night peacefully alone in your room, happy that things were finally calming down a little. That was, however, until you received a phone call that whoever was staying in said room needed to find new accommodations because they were no longer welcome. “I’m sorry sir- this has to be a mistake!” But the guy on the other end of the line hung up on you before you could reason with him. Hurrying to your feet, you punched Jeff’s number into your phone, knowing he would without a doubt be pissed but you didn’t really have anyone else to call. Rushing to the elevator then down into the lobby, you quickly found the manager and the words seemed to tumble out of your mouth, “Oh my god- I am so sorry about all of this- I really don’t- what is going on, exactly?” Deadpan, all the guy did was point you to the pool area outside.

Running out and onto the pool deck (even though that’s the one thing people tell you not to do), the very first sight you were greeted with was this white blur standing out against the darkness of the night sky. A few seconds later you realized what it was- Steve-O, doing a gainer into the pool off of some second story balcony he climbed up on, and splashing into the water, ass naked. You couldn’t see if Bam or Chris were clothed from where they were messing around and wrestling in the pool, even less with Knoxville and Ryan, who were sitting over in the hot tub chatting up a few half naked girls, but you made some assumptions. You were fucked. Unequivocally, unilaterally fucked. And then, with impeccable timing, guess who comes screeching up behind you, practically parking the van on the sidewalk? “You. Out!” Storming past you, Jeff was a man on a mission as he threw open the gate and grabbed a very unsuspecting Bam by his hair, hoisting him up like a mama cat and giving you a clear as day view of his pasty white ass.

“What on earth made you think, ‘Oh! Let’s all get shitfaced and swim naked in the hotel pool!’“ Jeff was anxiously pacing back and forth in front of the bench that he hauled the guys onto while you, under his orders, passed out towels for them to cover themselves up with. He shook his head like a disappointed father, “Now, thanks to you, you shitheads just got your sorry asses kicked out of the one hotel that’d take you! Great fuckin’ job, guys...” You felt a little awkward standing by his side as he lectured them while the guys just sat there, staring at you guiltily as if you were the lifeguard that kicked the kids out for adult swim.

Unbeknownst to you and everyone else, Jeff and the rest of the crew were staying at a pretty fancy resort, while you and the guys got the shaft and had to stay at the creepy craphole down the road. “Wait- why couldn’t we stay here?” Chris asked as the group was busy oohing and aahing and cursing their director under their breath as they pulled up to the sparkling mass that was the hotel. “Because,” Jeff roughly shifted the car into park, “somebody has a tendency to jump out of windows.” This comment was directed towards Bam, made even more so by a little thing you referred to as the Margera Curse. Due to his reputation, all it took was one look at his ID and whatever hotel, rental car agency, or insurance provider immediately denied Bam (in particular, but the guys had experience with this to lesser degrees).

One star people at a five star resort. That’s what it felt like when the guys walked in the marble floored lobby wearing nothing but their towels. There were ladies wearing pearls and businessmen in suits- for god’s sake, the place had a damn chandelier, and there was the Jackass crew, half naked dripping chlorine all over the tile. Of course, given the fact they were celebrities, they attracted quite a great deal of attention as Warden Tremaine tried to quickly escort them through the lobby without causing too much of a commotion. Still, they couldn’t help but take it all in, waving and smiling as a few tourists snapped pictures with around-the-neck cameras, like they were some kinda landmark people could go home and say they visited. But eventually, you got to the one room all the guys were crammed into and Bam groaned when he got a look at it, “We’re sharing a room again?” Rolling his eyes, Jeff turned to his own door, “Yes. You idiots earned it.”

Later that night, you were about halfway into a vending machine concha when you got a knock on your door. See, you hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast and by that time of night you were starving, so you had gone ahead and grabbed a few snacks for yourself. To your surprise, even though everyone had surely gone to sleep, standing there in front of you out in the hall was…Knoxville? “Uh, hey Y/N.” It must’ve looked kinda funny from an outsider’s perspective as you stood there, still chewing on that last bite you took while he explained, “I wanted to say sorry for all the shit the guys an’ I pulled tonight...” It was a rare moment of remorsefulness from him, which was odd considering how typical this was in terms of things you had to deal with. “It's fine- I mean, they’re not your responsibility.” In fact, they were your responsibility- you were paid to have them as your responsibility, and even you weren't all that concerned. “I’m serious. I-“ Midway through his sentence, Johnny’s stomach growled, and you realized that he was probably in a similar situation as you were. So, in an expression of goodwill, you took the pastry that was in your hands and held it out to him. Looking at you, then the half eaten concha with some speculation, then to you again, Knoxville accepted it, looking right at you as he took a bite out of the part you just ate from.