#jacob two two and the ghost
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i love spreading misinformation about what happens in this podcast aka.: bunch of thangs i drew but didnt feel like posting separately
#EXPLANATIONS IN ORDER:#based on a set of tags i got on a post by user canyouhearmeow (probs link it in the main blog rbs)#two versions of the same sketch aka.: FUTURE in its new meatsuit :) ill be honest i like the first one more#fourth one is a sketch i did for an art challenge im doing with 2 buddies of mine :]#i have no explanation of the 5th one. im cringe im free im etc (and i love re-using the#''hale stop looking at it with your big wet eyes and SAYER return his gaze'' thing#look at how hes looking at you!! pay attention to him!! (as in its trying to avoid facing its own feelings. it still puts a hand over his)#last one is just. plain ol' shitpost. the file name for that is ''SPEAKER after killing millions''#OH FOR THE. FOURTH ONE THE FILE NAME IS ''kinda feeling like a cuntttttt''#ghosts art#SAYER#SAYER podcast#sighhh the character tags.#SAYER ai#SPEAKER ai#jacob hale#FUTURE ai#sorry about posting so much abt this podcast. you all signed up for it! (GENUINE SORRY TO THE 4 OTHER PEOPLE WHO CHECK THE TAGS THOUGH .#OH ALSO in the first one hale is swearing in hungarian . why you might be asking?#BECAUSE THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE SHRIMPLY DOESNT HAVE ENOUGH SWEAR WORDS#anyways hi i was ghost and i am returning to working on the SPEAKER cosplay for the time being
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âWoah, you win the lottery or something?â
Jack doesnât know why he asks the guy in front of him at the checkout line that, but he does. Half the time, he couldnât give an explanation to why he says the things he does. He took one look at the huge pile of merchandise on the conveyor belt, overheard the cashier calculate the total, and couldnât help himself.
âNope,â the customer says casually, swiping his card through the machine. âJust having a mental breakdown.â He turns towards Jack, lips pursed in an awkward smile, and throws up a peace sign.
Jack blinks. âOh,â he says stupidly. He scrubs a hand behind his neck. âUh, sorry.â
âDonât be,â the stranger replies as he bags his various itemsâranging from a throw pillow with the word Iâm Pretty Sure I Seized The Wrong Day embroidered on it, to a coffee mug that says Live, Laugh, Lubricant. âYouâre not the dumbass roommate who got us evicted with an illegal gambling ring.â
Jack opens his mouth to reply, but isnât sure heâd know what to say anything.
The young man lifts up the pillow, frowning at the vomit green fringes sewn onto the obnoxiously turquoise fabric. âThis is the ugliest fucking thing Iâve ever seen. Why on earth did I buy it?â
âI have a theory,â Jack says.
The guy starts laughing, loud and obnoxious and it should be the most off putting thing in the world, but Jack is utterly enthralled.
This might be the most peculiar person Jackâs ever met, which is an incredibly high bar. Jack desires him carnally.
âYouâre funny,â the guy says, cracking a real, genuine smile this time, and Jack feels his insides become putty in this strangerâs hands. âIâm Davey.â
âJack.â He grins, extending a hand that Davey takes in a shake. âWe should hang out sometime.â
#javid#Javey#newsies#Jack Kelly#David Jacobs#wow look at me Iâm writing!#this is two shakes from crack#sorry yâall Iâm having a bit of a mentie b#and I donât believe in love anymore except in fiction#the way some people donât believe in ghosts but live horror movies#so this is how Iâm coping I guess#reblog it so I donât have to up my antidepressants#god this isnât even good Iâm gonna vomit fr fr what the FUUUUUUCK#someone get me a pillow I can scream into#wow look at me im writing!
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kaitlyn, jacob, dylan, and emma would be the best ghost hunting team i think.
i'm picturing it now in my head, and it's a beautiful and funny scene, truly.
#the thoughts.#it's so fucking funny in my head tho i might actually write it#just a lil something of them ghost hunting#why isn't ryan here you might be asking#bc the moment emma heard that the other three were planning to start ghost hunting#she immediately took his spot#kicked ryan out of the group so she could take his place#one: entertainment for her videos. the occasional ghost hunting video in between her vlogs#two: i want to spread my kemma agenda#the quarry#kaitlyn ka#dylan lenivy#jacob custos#emma mountebank#the quarry kaitlyn#the quarry dylan#the quarry jacob#the quarry emma
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JACOB PORTMAN AND PARENTS.
deathless (catherynne m. valente) // bad men (ghost quartet) // red doc> (anne carson) // (unknown) // hamlet (william shakespeare) // the sun is also a star (nicola yoon) // four friends (ghost quartet) // poor grammar (roar) // the beatrice letters (lemony snicket)
#THESE R BASED OFF THE FIRST BOOK!! and all the stuff he says abt his parents in that#movie scenes r used for convienence. (i wish i had access to a graphic novel copy for pics)#anyways. jacob just like me fr. lol#miss peregrines home for peculiar children#mphfpc#jacob portman#miss peregrineâs home for peculiar children#web weaving#web weave#idk how to tag this#sorry for using two ghost quartet quotes but that musical shows every human emotion#and I Love It. have loved it since 2017.#mine#â
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co-writers: @vincentholdsapen, @vixx-ari
Ebenezer Scrooge captured the Phantasim of Sloth two years ago, and the title of Chainbreaker has only brought the weight of more burdens to be rested upon him.
Now more experienced and knowledgeable in the ways of the afterlife. Scrooge must learn to navigate his own heart and the hearts of others to bring forth the equality that has been sorely lacking... all while dealing with his own search for answers he yearned for so, so long ago.
But will he like what he sees? None can say...
[SNIPPET UNDER THE CUT]
If one were to ask, âtwould be the summer of 1856. A remarkable time for one in the passing realm of mortality. The Black Sea had become detached, retained by none but the grasp of Mother Nature itself. Livingstoneâs odyssey across the African continent was soon to come to an end, and with it a treasure trove of knowledge and insights. Ever loyal and ever victorious soldiers returned home from a gruesome war to receive valorous crosses of the highest honor ever bestowed.
The world continued upon its merry pace, changing and growing. Wanting of nothing and ignorant of everything. Ceaseless in humanityâs endeavours to push themselves further and further into their inevitable end.
Yet when the light of innovation illuminates the brightest corners of civilisation, so too can it cast the darkest shadows of consequence. And when that light fades, those selfsame shadows grow and change like cursed troglodytes that morphed into harbingers of doom. It is in these shadows that new horrors emerge, unforeseen and unbidden, born from the seeds of progress sown with the best intentions.
You need not know the names of these Avaritions, and I shall elect not to speak further upon them. It is not that they are unimportant, mind! Anyone can gain the capacity to be a protagonist in their own tale. Nay, I do not speak their name because if I shall, they would detract from their true purpose as mere fodder for the narrative I wish to tell. Is it most definitely unfair to them? Most likely. But does an audience care for Sampson and Gregory of the Capulets? Or Abraham and Balthasar of the Montagues? Of course not, for they only wish to gaze upon with eagle eyes the tragic fate of their star-crossed heroes. If they were to even be called heroes, in that regard.
Perhaps they were to steal from an unsuspecting and feeble old woman. Perhaps they were to vandalise the sacred walls of a holy temple. Or perhaps they were just two fettered spirits going about on their business without a care in the world, their untoward misdeeds nothing but mere happenstance, a fluke of a crime that was still a crime.
Regardless of the reasons, it mattered not what they had perpetrated, for they had disrupted the normal flow of the realms and risked the safety of mortals. And unwarranted actions required warranted consequences.
"Forgive me, good sirs..."
He spoke with a calm cadence towards them, undisturbed like that of a gentle pond even as he tilted his top hat up with a gloved hand to reveal his oceanic gaze aged by time. He did not waver even when they fought back with the rage of flames unforgiving, or the sting of ice unfeeling. His spear gleamed with a golden glow even amidst the dark of the alley, and the chains that shot from behind him â emitting a resplendent brilliance all of its own â splayed out like the wings of a mighty dragon, or the tentacles of some unholy beast.
Whatever the image the Avaritions must have thought of when they looked upon him with their feeble and fearful imaginations, it did not matter; their fate would remain the same when one gains the attention of the Chainbreaker.
"...but I fear I must take you in for the sake of my clientele. I do hope you'll understand."
Tagged: @undeadchestnut @m0nsterwife @pinkytoothlesso11
#STAVE TWO LETS GOOOO#scrooge 2022#ebenezer scrooge#netflix scrooge#scrooge netflix#scrooge: a christmas carol#a christmas carol#scrooge a christmas carol#scrooge x marley#jacob marley#ghost of christmas past#ghost of christmas present#ghost of christmas yet to come#ghost of christmas future#ao3#ao3 fanfic#co-writer#are you mentally prepared?#I'm not mentally prepared
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"(It's Not War) It's Just the End of Love" for the fic title game
oooooughsfd. idk if i'll be able to get it into the main fic in an interlude, but if not, it'd be a sidefic. joey pov of Syb's Bad Dayâ˘ď¸where joey is kind of reeling in the aftermath of her and syb's abrupt and violent breakup. (tw for briefly mentioned domestic/partner abuse)
joey stays through virgil's funeral and spends some time chatting with earl afterwards. but she's so horrifically numb and when she heads back to falls end, the spread eagle is where she chooses to curl up and cry
mary may is a listening ear and a shoulder to soak up those tears. the bulk of the fic would be joey kind of talking through her grief, telling mary may what happened, and how all of that kind of was a culmination of a lot of red flags joey had just ignored because...well...syb is the commander of a fucking war. stressed people lash out, that's normal. but they don't get piss-drunk and actually strike someone across the face like syb just had.
she also has to grapple with the fact that she genuinely was in love with syb. she'd been harboring a crush ever since syb joined the department. how she had actually fallen in love when she realized that syb was trying to rescue her in the bunker. how she and syb had fucked that night and joey had felt safer than she ever had in her life.
only for syb to turn around and act like it never happened. how she was always distant. joey understands that syb was busy, but sometimes it felt like she was benched. an afterthought. the least syb could do is engage with her when they have spare time instead of getting lost in thought only to spend half the night on the radio with eli or earl talking strategy.
she realizes that what she thought was an actual meaningful mutual emotional connection didn't mean jack shit to syb.
you know. regular breakup stuff
#joey is having an objectively awful day and copes unhealthily (heavy drinking)#but at least she's talking about her feelings and processing them in a way that's adjacent to healthy#meanwhile syb (who also had an objectively awful day but that doesn't excuse her actions)#chooses to cope in an even unhealthier way by driving to jacob's front door knocking on it#and asking him to either fuck her or kill her. fucking him. almost killing him afterwards. and then ghosting him for two weeks#joey i'm sorry sweetie but i am gently nudging you into the arms of mary may. she will keep you safe.#my fic#my writing#oc: deputy sybille la roux
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Rereading Dickens Christmas Carol for the first time in a long time. And the more I reread, the more it strikes me how seamlessly a queer reading could slip within these pages. Not an especially twee reading, wherein all Scrooge's troubles start and end with grief over Jacob Marley's death. For we know that Scrooge was a "Tight-fisted hand at the grindstone, Scrooge! a squeezing, wrenching, grasping, scraping, clutching, covetous, old sinner!" And we know that he and Marley were "two kindred spirits"
And perhaps that very fact makes the similarities to queer life, unintended as they most likely were by Mr. Dickens, achingly poignant to me. Scrooge is, we're told, "secret and self-contained and solitary as an oyster." How much that resonates, for so many of us who shield our innermost selves but from a select group of friends. And we know that Scrooge and Marley were, at the very least, certainly that for one another. Scrooge is Marley's sole mourner; his sole executor and beneficiary; and even Dickens notes, "friend." How reminiscent is that of queer couples across history, estranged from their families?
Scrooge lives in a set of chambers that once belonged to Marleyâclearly Dickens wanted us to believe Scrooge gave up his own dwellings after Marley's death to economize. But with only a flicker of change, those chambers become _their chambers, rented by Marley as the senior member of the couple. The place is so desolate Dickens notes "one could scarcely help fancying it must have run there when it was a young house, playing at hide-and-seek with other houses, and have forgotten the way out again." The perfect abode for two queer misers who wanted no one prying into their business.
Marley's name is still above the door of Scrooge's counting-house: a mark by which, no doubt, Dickens meant to convey Scrooge such a penny-pincher he couldn't bother to have it changed. But a thing can be both! mark of frugality to ludicrous excess and! mark of mourning. "sometimes," Dickens opines, "People new to the
business called Scrooge Scrooge, and sometimes Marley, but he answered to both names. It was all the same to him."
This is why "death of the author" matters so much, in expanding our interpretations of texts. It is vastly far from the lens Dickens would have intended. But, the idea of a ghost of queerness, so taboo in the society it could barely be glanced at sidewise in this tale that is all about the inexplicable and yet that lingers over everything becomes an astonishing lens through which to read this book. Thinking of Scrooge as a queer man, his "melancholy dinner at his usual melancholy tavern" becomes a eerie prefiguring of the hollowness of days spent by Isherwood's A Single Man. In this universe, little wonder Scrooge doubly hates mention of time with family, marriage, etc. when the precise nature of his grief is both unacknowledged and unacknowledgable.
And readings like this are vital, because the uncomfortable truth is, discrimination doesn't "discriminate between sinners and saints", to borrow a Miranda phrase. It is easy, in my liberal circles, to fight for queer people who hold "the good sorts of politics". But what about men like Michael Hess, culpable for supporting Reagan even as his contemptuous homophobia let the aids epidemic run rampant? How much harder is it to remember Michael had a partner? That he deserves empathy and compassion for being practically tarred and feathered out of the party upon his own aids diagnosis?
Expanding our imaginative universes to include queerness, not as redemptive panacea, but merely as one aspect of identity, personality, often in vicious conflict with others. Even! as we consider those stories equally worthy of being told feels vital if we're ever to truly express the complexity of what queer humanity looks like.
#forgive my less than articulate maundering#am currently listening to a truly splendid full-cast adaptation of said#Christmas Carol#and wanted to jot these things down before I forgot them in the flow of the work.#Scrooge as both! cruel bastard bitching about half a crown he'll pay Bob even though he won't be in the office on Christmas#fuming about his pockets being picked as he scathingly condemns the poor for not throwing themselves#into the oh! so! generous work-houses. And _also! deeply bereaved husband just makes him so! much more _alive and fascinating to me#if anyone knows of good Marley/Scrooge longfic where not an inch! of their dastardliness is sanded off I'd _kill for it#Jacob Marley#Ebenezer Scrooge#Ebenezer Scrooge/Jacob Marley#queer stuff#history#book babbling#lit geekery
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dear stranger, | chapter two from right where you left me.
pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader (modern day au) word count: 5.2k
summary: a weekend gateway to with your old high school friends? sounds like a dream! only itâs not really as itâs been three years since you last saw them. three years since you left hawkins without so much as a goodbye, and certain people tend to hold grudges.
content warnings: forced proximity, angsty, suggestive & mature themes, adult language, mentions & descriptions of underage alcohol consumption / substance abuse, recreational drug use, discusses sobriety, emotional hurt / no-comfort, eddie is a bit of an asshole, a little mutual pining, also touches on topics of: divorce, death, grief, self-doubt / insecurities, love triangle?, unrequited love â pls let me know if i missed any!
psa: any images used in chapter headers donât depict readers physical attributes! these are also vaguely â if at allâ described in the story.

Eddieâs first interaction with you, a short conversation outside Bennyâs one faithful Thursday evening, only solidified the idea of a potential relationship, but he was a couple of years older and coming from a completely different world to yours. Trailer trash, and whatnot. He simply didnât think youâd be interested in him like that.
Instead, riddled with self-doubt, Eddie opted to go down the friendship route and being your friend was easy.Â
Despite not sharing a lot of the same interests, the two of you always managed to find common ground and the conversation flow came naturally.
Eddie, in his fuck-the-patriarchy and everything-thatâs-cool way, introduced you to a wide variety of hobbies which, in your world, were considered wildly out of the box: Dungeons and Dragons, Warhammer, all sorts of Anime, punk rock and heavy metal music. The list goes on.
Hoping to humanise your lack of interests aside from your social status, you taught the metal-head all things pop culture. Cue marathons of various seasons of different Real Housewives, making him read Twilight and asking him to choose Team Edward or Team Jacob, and judging celebrity red carpet looks.
There also appeared to be a few short things you both agreed on:
The colour blue sucks.
Lord of the Rings franchise is one of the best book to movie adaptations to ever exist.
Pizza is clearly the best food and can be eaten for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
Additionally, a debate arose one night to potentially include point four: Leia is a cute name for a girl. Eddie looked at you with those pretty brown eyes and smiled wide in agreement âcause even though you were still just a couple of kids, the potential of a future that saw your friendship blossoming, one way or another, excited him. However, the conversation happened when you were both quite high. Point long forgotten by the time the sun greeted the morning sky.
All in all, Eddie worshipped the ground you walked on. Back then, he wouldâve done anything for you, you merely had to ask. The not-so-secret crush blossomed with every interaction and he swore if anyone ever dared to hurt the girl he told himself he couldnât have, all hell would break loose.
How come, a hellish three years later, heâs the one doing the hurting? The question, of course, is rhetorical. He knows exactly what led to the breakdown of your friendship. That doesnât mean however, heâs not completely riddled with guilt for how he just reacted to seeing you for the first time since the end of Senior Year.
His focus remains locked on where youâre after disappearing as his hand rubs the part of him youâve just bumped, and Eddie swears he can still feel your arm against his shoulder. A tingle, an imprint, a ghost. His fingers curl into a fist against the material of his jacket and he eventually drops his head, sigh escaping his lips. Nancy is going to kill him for making you cry.
Upstairs, thereâs a knock on your door.Â
You quickly wipe any last tears that have trickled down your cheeks and call out to whoever is on the other side that itâs open. Robin reveals herself, head tilting to the side as she notices the miserable look on your face.
âNancy is already crucifying him,â is all she says before wrapping her arms around you, pulling you in for a comforting hug.
âShe doesnât have to do that,â you protest, resting your chin on her shoulder. âHeâs got every right to be upset with me.â
âBut the thing is, babe, everything we told you is true. Like, he does ask about you constantly, and he didnât even have an issue with you coming this weekend when Nancy told him you accepted her invite,â she elaborates, pulling back from the embrace and leaning against a set of drawers.
âHeâs just acting like a dweeb âcause you hugged Harrington first.â
You whine, a little too dramatically, while burying your face in your hands. It oddly feels therapeutic. Robin huffs out a laugh at your reaction, poking your arm to get you to look back at her.
âHeâs never going to forgive me, Rob.â You sigh.
âYes, he will.â
âHow can he forgive me when he doesnât want to listen to my apology? He practically said to pretend heâs not here.â
The blonde rolls her eyes. âHoney, you realise that all you have to do is listen to his stupid-ass request?â She says it as if it is the most obvious thing in the world. âThe second you start giving him the cold shoulder, heâs gonna want your attention.â
And Robin was right, of course.
You didnât notice it at first, fully understanding of Eddieâs request to steer clear from one another, plus dinner prep was a perfect distraction from his lingering presence.
Nancy tasks you with making the potato salad. A simple request and one you are happy to oblige. She positions you at one of the counters, your back to the kitchen island where Eddie is sitting nursing a beer. Heâs messing around on Spotify, skipping through songs, and it takes everything you have not to comment about how he should just fucking pick one playlist and let it be.
The one person definitely unbothered by the constant switch in music is Argyle who fell asleep at the table. Body completely relaxed on the chair, head hanging backwards, and light snores escaping his parted lips as Rob tries to balance a stack of Pringles on his forehead.
Jonathan is Nancyâs sous chef, her helping hand, fulfilling every little request she has while preparing the rest of the grand meal. Theyâre giggling together and you canât help but smile to yourself, thinking about how lucky they are to have found someone they feel so comfortable around.Â
Eddie was that someone for you, the thought crosses your mind, sending a twinge signal to your stomach. The twist in your gut is a sort of pain comparable to slicing your hand open, and at that moment your gaze shifts to the knife in your hand, grip tightening. Youâre frozen for a minute. Unsure how to continue with the salad when all you can think about is the boy behind you. The boy that wants nothing to do with you.
Yet, unbeknown to you, also the boy who immediately notices the pause in your movements.Â
Eddie doesnât act on it though. He thinks about it, only for a second too long because Steve approaches you first, briefly placing a hand on your back to gauge your attention, before leaning against the counter next to where youâre chopping potatoes. You smile at him. Eddie can see that itâs timid, small. Clearly thereâs something on your mind and he feels guilty for most likely being the person thatâs caused your dampened mood.
âHow are you doinâ?â Steve asks, crossing his arms across his chest, eyes glued to the side of your face.
âGood.â Itâs not entirely true, but you know Eddie, as well as everyone else currently alert in this kitchen, can hear your conversation. âDelaying cutting these onions âcause I know theyâre gonna make me cry,â you joke.
Steve chuckles. âWell, all you gotta do is ask, sweetheart.â He says before twisting in his spot and reaching for a chopping board. âI happen to be a pro at cutting onions.â
The light laugh that escapes your lips causes Eddie to roll his eyes. Not that you see his reaction though. You also donât see how his grip tightens on the bottle of beer, or how his jaw clenches when Steveâs arm brushes against yours while you both work on the salad.
But despite the anger â the jealousy â bubbling inside of him, Eddie doesnât stop listening in on your conversation with Harrington. In fact, he shuffles his chair closer, lowering the volume on the laptop by one. He canât help himself. Heâll forever be invested in you, even if he says heâs not and that he doesnât care. Itâs all a pathetic lie to cover up the fact that heâs never quite gotten over you.
âSo, howâs Vegas treating you? Bet itâs all parties and no responsibilities,â Steve nudges.
âGod, Iâd be disowned if that were the case,â you reply, chuckling lightly. You donât tell him youâre sober, it doesnât feel like the right time. âFirst year I was there, I worked. My dad scored me a reception job at his firm, so I saved a little cash and moved out on my own, just in time for the following year, when I started my degree.â
Steve hums, impressed. Eddieâs feeling proud, then a little sad because you got into college and he wasnât there to congratulate you. Seemingly, no one from this group was.
âGone into teaching, like you wanted?â Steve asks.
âNot entirely,â you pause briefly, âBut whatâs with the third degree? Weâve got all weekend to catch up.â
Harrington snorts out a laugh. âTrue,â he agrees with a smile, âI guess, youâre just such a mystery now. The usual social stalking doesnât work âcause you havenât updated anything in three years, and whenever I tried to call, you didnât answer.â
Youâre not sure what to say since heâs not wrong in his words, so you opt to say nothing at all. Steve seems to understand your reverence, nudging your arm with his own in the form of a silent assertion that heâs really not mad.
Eddie starts to feel guilty for being the one who isolated you from your friends, your support system. Though you never said it, he knows you left because of what happened at Chrissyâs stupid party. Ashamed of your actions and how they affected the group. Actions that were a result of his rash decisions.
âFuckingâ Are you seriously going to listen to me spill my feelings for you, then try and jump into bed with fucking Harrington?!â Eddieâs yelling, arms stretched out as if heâs daring you.
The sound of Nancy clearing her throat forces the memory to freeze. Eddie glances up at the petite brunette, whose got one eyebrow arched as if to ask what the fuck heâs doing. He shrugs, taking another swig of his beer, then glances back down at the laptop and continues his not-so-secret eavesdropping.
âTell me this, though,â Steve prompts, glancing at you, âare you happy?â
You pause your own movements, taking a moment to ponder his pretty loaded question. When you meet his brown eyes, you smile a genuine smile, surprising even yourself as to how easy it is to answer.
âYes,â you state simply, âIâm happy.â
The screech of a chair being pushed back fills the air, causing both you and Steve to turn around, at the same moment that Eddie walks out of the kitchen. Nancy is quick on his heels, only flashing you an apologetic smile, and the entirety of the last twenty-odd seconds leaves you even more confused.
All throughout dinner, you notice how Eddie is oddly quiet, only chiming in when someone â not you â directly addresses him. No one comments on his unusual behaviour, though Robin shoots you some knowing looks from across the table every couple of seconds.
Then when the group agrees to move outside, while you get comfortable on the patio furniture, Eddie deliberately chooses the chair closest to the steps, as if heâs planning for a quick escape. He lights a cigarette, staring out at the lake, and your entire body is screaming to ask whatâs on his mind, but then again, heâs made it quite clear he wants nothing from you.
So you decide to continue pretending his sullen mood isnât affecting you.
âMerlot or Pinot Grigio?â
âHmm?â
Steveâs at the door, a bottle of red and white wine in each hand. He lifts them up slightly, repeating the question, then waiting patiently for an answer. Although he doesnât have to wait long because you quickly shake your head a firm no.
âI uh⌠I actually donât drink anymore.â
Eddieâs ears perk up at your answer, though he doesnât actually look in your direction. Still pretending to focus on the ripples in the dark water ahead.
âOh.â Steve shifts awkwardly. âWell, now we know why Nancy didnât offer any with dinner. Assuming she knows?â
âShe does.â
âThen Iâm sorry for offering.â
âDonât be,â you say and itâs true.
He goes back inside without another word, leaving you alone with Eddie.Â
The silence is overwhelming and frankly, a little awkward. Itâs odd to be so close to one another, yet feel as though youâre oceans apart. Itâs also odd to have revealed this new and intimate detail about yourself, yet since it wasnât said directly to him, Eddie might as well still not know.
You donât know how to act, so you take out your phone.
Thereâs a text from your mom, âReally hope youâre having a good time, honey. Send some pictures, if you can.â
âsurviving ;)â, your fingers work across the keyboard, then you go into your album and select a photo of yourself with Robin and Nancy. The only one taken so far. âeveryone says hi.â
âEveryone?â
Your eyes flutter to where Eddie is sitting. Heâs still looking at the lake.
âalmost everyoneâŚâ
As the three dots appear on the screen, your phone dings with the unmistakable sound of an Instagram notification. Your super secret secondary profile makes itself known, and you hold your breath for a split-second. But if Eddie heard it, he doesnât say anything.
When you open the notification, the corners of your lips twitch upwards.
That, Eddie notices. Well, he noticed the sound too, but heâs not going to pry about your use of social media after pretty much telling you to fuck off earlier. His mind however, is running in circles. The metal-head knows you havenât posted anything new on Instagram since you left Hawkins, so you must only be using the app for messaging, but who from your old life â that isnât here this weekend â would be dming you at this hour of the evening? The second you smiled, at whatever the fuck you were after seeing on your phonescreen, well, Eddie wishes he handled your reunion earlier a little better because maybe youâd privy him to that information. He wants, no, needs to know who else youâve been in contact with.
And he knows exactly who to ask.
A little too lost in your dmâs, you donât notice Eddie put out the cigarette heâs been smoking and stump back inside. You donât notice him approach Steve, mumble something in the guy's ear and point to his phone. You donât notice them glancing at you through the large window, or whisper manically back and forth. You donât notice Nancy joining in on the conversation, hands on her hips like a disapproving mom.
âSheâs not in touch with anyone else,â she says and because she sees Eddie in particular is not buying whatever sheâs selling, Nancy adds, âSheâs got a second profile.â
Both boys are stunned, albeit only for a minute. Then the back-and-forth begins again. Questions arise. How long has Nancy known? Why doesnât anyone else know? Whatâs the handle? Why not just use the old, original profile?
âItâs none of your business,â she tells them in a hushed tone of voice, âIf she wanted you to know what is going on in her life, sheâd post on the profile she created in high school, okay?â
Steve huffs, wine long forgotten, instead opting for something a little stronger. He pours four glasses of whiskey before motioning for Eddie and Nancy to take one, the last being for Robin who disappeared to talk to her girlfriend again. He takes a sip, liquid burning down his throat.
âI just donât get the secrecy,â he says with a shrug.
With the glass pressed to her lips, Nancy looks out the window to where youâre sitting. A sigh escapes her lips. Thereâs a small smile present on your expression, focus remaining on your phone, and Nancy hates herself for being the person thatâs ruined that, along with breaking the promise sheâs made you about seven months into your time in Vegas.
She wanted to know how you were getting on. Considering by then you told her you werenât coming back to Hawkins any time soon â one of the only texts youâd sent her since the time you left. The brunette girl wanted to know you were safe, happier. Calls werenât going to work since you were barely replying to messages, and itâs not like at that point in time you were keen on letting the rest of the group know what you were up to, so your main Instagram account was out of the question.
Nancy suggested a second profile.
Then she promised she wouldnât tell anyone.
âThereâs two things you should know,â she breathes, glancing between Steve and Eddie. âFirst thingâs first though, you need to fucking forgive her.â Poking Eddieâs chest, her expression is stern. âYouâve forgiven Harrington here, so the least you can do is have a normal conversation with her.â
âNanceââ
âEddie, I swear to fucking Christ. If youâre actually incapable for swallowing your pride for one fucking secondââ
The sound of the sliding door causes her to halt her words and the three of them turn their heads to where youâre now standing, wide-eyed and apologetic because it seems at first glance you are after interrupting a very important conversation.
âSorry,â you say with a meek smile, âI just came to get a glass of water.â
And you donât mean to eavesdrop when they start whispering amongst themselves as you fill a glass with ice. In your defence, however, theyâve never been good at keeping their voices quiet, and theyâre no better now. You hear your name escape Eddieâs lips, then something about Instagram coming from Steve.
Oh.
Having filled your glass with water, you turn back to look at the three of them.Â
To your surprise, the metal-head is already looking at you. His expression is hard to read, but regardless, it makes your heart skip a beat. It also makes you think that the only way for him to start trusting you again, he deserves to know what youâve been up to these last few years â even by means of a now not-so-secret Instagram account.
So you call Steveâs name, not looking away from Eddie at first. When Harrington doesnât react, in too deep with Nancy, you say it again, louder. He spins on his heel then, at the same time that you shift your attention in his direction.Â
Sighing softly, you tell him to pull up Instagram and then you dictate the handle and although youâre watching Steve type in every syllable that escapes your lips, from the corner of your eye, you can see Eddieâs fingers also work the screen of his phone.
Proof of both their curiosities dings in your pocket.Â
You quickly take out your own phone, silently accepting their follow requests while choosing not to comment on the fact that there were two: Eddieâs name gracing your notifications for the first time in three years.Â
With a quick refresh, there in all its Las Vegas glory, is the last three years of your life.
âIâm sorry,â Nancy says, now standing in front of you, âTheyâre relentless little fuckers.â
âHey!â Steveâs offence is melodramatic and Nancy just rolls her eyes at the boy, before linking your arm with hers and leading you back outside. Having one quick glance at your newly found account, Harrington follows quickly behind.
Eddie on the other hand is frozen in place.
He tries to keep a straight face as opens the first image, quickly scanning the caption, before focusing on the picture posted two days ago. Apparently you were in Fort Wayne, visiting your mom. Thereâs a smile on your face that he hasnât witnessed since high school and his heart tightens thinking about how heâd do anything to be the reason for your happy expressions again.
Did you stomp all over his heart? Yes. Rationally, Eddie should hate you for that alone, not even mentioning how you flushed years of friendship down the toilet. And for a long, long while, he did. Eventually, the metal-head realised the hate was superficial because he was actually more angry with himself.Â
âYour behaviour is fucking desperate.â
âFuck you, Eddie.â
That stupid party, and putting you in the position he did, all while you were clearly too drunk, was a huge mistake on his part. It wasnât the right place, nor the right time. Eddie just thought you looked so beautiful that night, and the alcohol cruising through his own veins clouded his judgement.
Then you reacted the way you did. When Eddie found you in the downstairs bathroom of Chrissyâs house in the arms of Harrington, well, you both said some equally rude things in the aftermath. They came from a place of anger, but he could never actually hate you.
You left without a word, before Eddie got a chance to apologise for his shitty behaviour at the party. Before he got a chance to tell you that he doesnât care that you kissed Harrington, or whether you feel the same way he does. All he cares about is being in your life.
Now, your life resides on a profile Eddie didnât even know about until mere minutes ago.Â
Heâs scrolling, slowly. Taking the time to examine each photo, down to the comments left behind. Each image only adds to the ache in his chest. Thereâs experiences here he selfishly thinks he shouldâve been a part of, as opposed to the people youâve actually tagged. Heâs known you for far longer than this dude Jax, who you seemingly went and got a tattoo with.
What hurts the most though, is seeing the proof of how happy youâve been the last three years. How happy youâve been without him in your life.
-
âSo, babe, who the fuck is Jax?â Robin asks with a smirk.
Having been the last person to find out about your secret account, she was sure to take her time to tease you in retaliation. Starting light, with small jabs on the new wellness hobbies youâve picked up over the years like hiking through the Nevada Trails Park, sunset yoga in the desert, and a new affinity for green smoothies. Then moving quickly to your new choice of friends, not judging them by any means, more expressing curiosity as to why these specific people replaced the group from Hawkins.
âJax is a friend,â you answer simply.
âLooks awfully cosy for just a friend,â she teases, glancing up at you briefly before twisting the phone in Steveâs direction, to show the picture.
You roll your eyes âcause thereâs really nothing going on between you and the boy in question, so the teasing you can take. Youâre not ashamed.
âHeâs great as a gym partner, honestly, heâs great for most boyfriend related activities, but he would, one-hundred per cent, make a terrible actual boyfriend.â You say with a soft laugh, sinking further into the cushioned seat as you further let your guard down.
Steve smirks. Satisfied. Clearly glad thereâs nothing between you and Jax, though you donât comment on his reaction. Instead, your gaze momentarily shifts to Eddie, who still hasnât said a single word.
The brunette boy is staring at his hands. Fidgeting with the metal rings that coat his fingers. You canât help but wonder what heâs thinking about, and it takes everything youâve got not to ask him. Is he proud of the person youâve become? Or is his continuous resentment spiralling out of control, because maybe heâs wondering why you could change for those strangers, but couldnât change for him? But that, you couldnât even answer for yourself.
âSo you havenât been dating anyone?â Robin further probes into your new life.
When you glance back at the blonde, she raises a brow, and you know sheâs only asking because she wants the same thing as you: some sort of reaction out of Eddie.
You shake your head. âNo.â
But itâs Steve who reacts instead.
âCome on, sweetheart!â His tone is full of disbelief. âYou mean to tell us that no one in Vegas tried to sweep you off your feet?â
You let out a soft laugh.
âThey sure tried. Iâm just not interested,â you answer with a smile, then reach for your glass of water, bringing the brim to your lips.
âWhy?â He asks.
âSteveââ Nancy tries to cut in, aware of what youâre going to say next. Aware of the reason why you havenât dated, and no, unlike everything else thatâs happened since youâve seen this group last, this decision you made not to date wasnât because of Chrissyâs party.
âI uhâŚâ You clear your throat. âI havenât dated since Billy.â
The group goes silent. Suddenly itâs all really⌠awkward.
âJesus, babe,â Robin exhales dramatically, âThatâs likeââ
âForever?â You interject, trying to keep your tone of voice as positive as you can. âI know.â
Thereâs a beat of silence. No one in the group is really sure what to say next, how to steer the conversation away from this topic.Â
You glance at Eddie who, for the second time this evening and to your surprise, is already looking at you. Brown eyes full of compassion. They say more than words ever could and youâre suddenly feeling hopeful. Maybe itâs not too late. Maybe you could be friends again. MaybeâŚ
Though thereâs still a lot of mending to do before any of that can happen. Starting with:
âBilly dying really fucked me up.â
Acceptance. Admitting your flaws, owning up to your mistakes. Making amends with the people that tried their very best to stand by you in the worst of times, even when you made it damn near impossible to do so.
âI kinda fell off the rails and I uhââ You swallow your breath, gaze shifting from the brunette boy to the lake behind him. The sight of water soothing to your soul. âWell, I made some mistakes and Iâm sorry. To all of you.â
âYou donât have to apologise,â Nancy says quickly and the rest of the group nod along. Aside from Eddie, who is back to fidgeting with his rings.
One by one, everyone eventually says goodnight. Jonathan and Nancy are the first to go, citing an early wake-up excuse and reminding everyone the canoes are rented for eleven in the morning, so breakfast would be at ten. WIth that information in tow, Argyle checks out next. You learn how he hates the open water, so heâs hoping extra sleep will make him less nervous in the morning. Robin gets a call from Vickie. She says sheâll be back shortly but after she disappears, Steve jokes that the next time the blonde will be seen is breakfast. This leaves you with a less than desirable duo.
Steve and Eddie.
Silence stretches for minutes at a time. Out of some sick and twisted principle, you donât want to be the first to leave because that might get misinterpreted as running away, and this entire weekend is about proving how youâve changed. Plus youâre not going to give Eddie the satisfaction of seeing you walk away twice in the span of one afternoon.
Luckily, awkwardness never seems to phase Harrington. Not for long, anyway.
He makes small talk, asks further questions about your new life, wonders if you are open to visitors and practically plans a trip out to see you in Vegas: sooner rather than later, as he puts it. He gets you to laugh on a few occasions and the sound comes naturally, no reservations or concerns.
You make note to apologise to him privately for everything you put him through the night of Chrissyâs party, although you already know heâll tell you itâs no big deal because Steve Harrington has a heart too pure for this world. It makes you momentarily sick that you took advantage of his kindness in a moment of drunken despair.
âOkay kids,â Steve begins and stands, stretching, âIf I tuck in for the night, will you kill each other? Or should I stay to play peacekeeper a little bit longer?â
âWeâll be fine,â Eddie answers shortly. The sentence being his first set of words in hours.
You exchange a glance with Harrington, who seems just as surprised as you by the metal-heads response, and offer up a timid smile.
âGoodnight, Steve.â You say kindly.
âGoodnight, sweetheart.â Then he turns to address Eddie, ââNight, Munson. Donât be a dickhead.â
Eddie grumbles something under his breath, but you donât quite make out the specifics. Instead, you watch Steveâs frame disappear into the lake house and once heâs fully out of sight, a sagging feeling settles in the pit of your stomach â what now?
Although, nothing happens. Silence settles around the two of you. Only the sound of the night, the woods, the water graces your ears and, despite the company, it all feels quite peaceful.
Eddie lights a cigarette. Hesitantly, he offers you one, avoiding your gaze as he holds out the box. You politely decline, further wrapping yourself up in your hoodie and sinking into your seat.
After a few more minutes of utter quiet, Eddie exhales, blowing smoke into the midnight air and finally looks up in your direction. Youâre aware instantly, that his chocolate-button eyes are latched onto you. The sensation sends a shiver down your spine. Clearing your throat, you tilt your head to meet his wide eyes then, surprising yourself, you offer him a small smile.
The metal-head surprises you too. For not only does he smile back, he says: âIâm sorry.â.
âYou donâtââ
But he cuts you off. âI do. About earlier. I was an ass and yeah, Iâm sorry.â
All you can do is nod. Not like you donât believe him, you do. You know Eddie well enough to tell heâs being genuine. Unfortunately, a lot has gone down in the past and three years have passed since. Plus, only a few hours ago, he told you to practically shove your own apologies which can only mean heâs not really interested in having you back in his life. For that, you canât blame him and as much as youâd want âIâm sorryâ to fix things, itâs not that simple â you understand that now better than you did when you first arrived here.
You just need to get through this weekend, you remind yourself and slowly stand up, your own self-deprecating thoughts getting in the way of what you really want to tell him.Â
Eddieâs eyes remain on you, as if heâs analysing your every move, which, unknown to you, he sort of is. This girl he thought he knew, now a mystery and itâs in part all of his fault. Heâs aching inside because everyone else seems to click with you easily, like no time stole memories theyâll never get to experience. Steve cracking intimate jokes mere moments ago causing something vile to bubble inside of the metal-head.
An apology for his earlier comments is a good place to start rebuilding, thatâs what Nancy said. He likes to think he listens to advice, even if he doesnât think itâs good, so he did what his friend told him too and now he wishes he hasnât. Even more so when you clearly donât want to hear anything from him.
âI appreciate your apology, but we donât have to talk about it,â you say matter-of-factly, âWe donât have to talk at all, just like you wanted.â
And Eddie canât dig himself out of the hole he jumped into.

as always, thank you for reading & please support your writers by reblogging <3
story masterlist
& tagging some cool people that expressed interest in this story: @ali-r3n @thelazyarchangel @hufflepuffobsessedwithmarvel @peculiarwren @fxoxo @losingmygrasponreality @kellsck @sp1dyb0y1008 @mmmunson @somethingvicked @darknesseddiem @scream4mami @pineapplechuncks @sophiejayne-illustrations713 @emxxblog @bl0ssomanddie @theladyhellfire @gracelouiseoneill @emquinn94 @transparent-enemy @rach5ive @knew-better-forever-girl-two @lemonmarquee @mossgh0st @probablyin-bed @dustbowleddie @residentoftomlinsonsass @heart-eyed-love @munsonburn3r @helsa3942 @althaiareads @theladyhellfire @v1per1ne @sugarplumsweetiepie
#right where you left me.#eddie munson#eddie munson fanfiction#eddie munson fic#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson angst#eddie munson series#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x fem!reader#eddie munson x female!reader#eddie munson x female reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x y/n
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Meant for You
Jacob Black x Reader:
Y/N returns to La Push, expecting to reunite with her childhood best friend, Jacob Blackâbut heâs distant, too caught up in Bella to notice her. Hurt and confused, she tries to move on, until Jacobâs packmates hint at the truth: he might have imprinted on her. Torn between what he thought he wanted and what feels right, Jacob finally stops running and faces the inevitableâY/N was always meant to be his.
Ëâ˝Ë・âđŚ Ëâ˝Ë・â Ëâ˝Ë・âđŚ Ëâ˝Ë・â Ëâ˝Ë・âđŚ Ëâ˝Ë・â Ëâ˝Ë・âđŚ Ëâ˝Ë・â Ëâ˝Ë・âđŚ Ëâ˝Ë・â
The air in La Push was thick with salt, the waves crashing against the shore in a steady rhythm. It had been years since you set foot here, but the familiar scent of pine and ocean spray immediately brought back memories of childhood summers spent racing Jacob Black along the beach.
You had been inseparable once. Two wild-hearted kids with scraped knees and big dreams, but time had a way of pulling people apart. And now, standing in front of Billy Blackâs house, you werenât sure if things would ever be the same.
The screen door creaked open, and there he wasâJacob Black, taller, broader, with his signature easygoing grin. But there was something different in his eyes, something distant.
âY/N?â His voice was laced with disbelief, and for a moment, his expression softened. âNo way. What are you doing here?â
âI figured it was time to come home,â you said, shifting your weight awkwardly. âI missed this place.â
His lips twitched in what should have been a smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. âYeah? Well, La Push hasnât changed much.â He leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest. âStill the same small town with the same small-town drama.â
You knew what he meant. Bella. You had heard all about his infatuation with her from your old friends. And yet, standing here, you had hopedânaivelyâthat Jacob would still look at you like he used to, like you were important.
But he didnât. Not anymore.
---
Days passed, and Jacob made himself scarce. It stung more than you wanted to admit. He had always been your best friend, but now, it was like you were nothing more than a ghost of his past.
You saw him with Bella, saw the way his entire world seemed to orbit around her. It hurt, but what hurt even more was how he barely acknowledged your existence anymore.
You tried to push it aside. You hung out with Embry and Quil, pretending it didnât bother you, but they noticed.
âYouâre not imagining it,â Embry said one night as you all sat around a bonfire. âJacobâs been...off since you got back.â
âYeah, dudeâs acting weird,â Quil agreed. âItâs like heâs avoiding you on purpose.â
You scoffed. âGreat. Good to know Iâm not crazy.â
Embry and Quil exchanged a look, and then Embry leaned in, his voice quieter. âYou know, sometimes...imprinting messes with a guyâs head.
You frowned. âImprinting?â
Quil sighed. âItâs a wolf thing. When we imprint, itâs likeâthereâs no choice. That person becomes our everything.â
Something inside you twisted. âAnd you think Jacobââ
âWe donât know,â Embry admitted. âBut itâd explain why heâs acting so weird around you.â
The thought was almost laughable. Jacob was obsessed with Bella. He had made that painfully clear. But then again, the way he had been avoiding you, the way his hands would clench whenever you were nearâit didnât make sense.
Not until the night everything changed.
---
You were walking home alone from the bonfire when you heard footsteps behind you. Instinctively, you turned, your heart racing, but it was just Jacob.
For the first time in weeks, he wasnât running away.
âHey,â he said, his voice hoarse.
âHey.â You crossed your arms. âSo, you do remember I exist?â
He flinched. âThatâs not fair.â
âIsnât it?â You exhaled sharply. âYouâve been ignoring me since I got back, Jake. I thought we were friends.â
Something flickered across his faceâguilt, maybe, or something deeper. âWe are.â
âThen whatâs wrong?â
He hesitated, dragging a hand through his hair. âI donât know how to explain it.â
âTry.â
He let out a breath. âWhen you came back, everything shifted. IâI didnât understand it at first, but every time I look at you, itâs like...â He trailed off, his jaw clenching.
âLike what?â you pressed.
He stepped closer, his warmth radiating in the cool night air. âLike the world makes sense again.â
Your breath caught. âJacobââ
âI was fighting it,â he admitted. âBecause I thoughtâhell, I thought it was supposed to be Bella. But itâs not. It never was.â
His words hung between you, heavy with meaning.
âI think,â he swallowed hard, âI think youâre my imprint, Y/N.â
Your heart pounded. âAnd that scared you?â
He let out a dry laugh. âTerrified me. I thought if I ignored it, itâd go away. But it didnât. It just made everything worse.â
You searched his face, the raw emotion in his eyes. âSo what now?â
He reached for your hand, his fingers warm against yours. His thumb traced gentle circles against your skin, sending shivers up your spine. âNow...I stop running.â
A shaky breath left your lips as he cupped your cheek, his touch hesitant but desperate. âI want to make this right,â he whispered. âI donât want to fight it anymore.â
You didnât realize how close you had gotten until you could feel his breath against your lips. His hands, rough and warm, slid down your arms, gripping your waist like you were something precious. He didnât kiss youânot yetâbut the tension between you was thick, electric.
âThen donât,â you murmured.
His forehead pressed against yours, his body trembling slightly as he finally let go of his hesitation. âI wonât.â
And for the first time since youâd come home, Jacob stayed.
#jacob black#twilight#jake black#fanfic#x yn#jacob black x reader#twilight x reader#jacob black imagine#jacob black fanfic
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@asexualbuthorny I am sorry I couldn't give you any kink tober, writing smut made me feel a bit sick at that time. Hope you like this one and dw I didn't forget any ask you sent <33.
requests always open

Whore!Ghost who is an absolute slut for sex
CW: roleplay, puppy play, NSFW, he has piercings, MDNI!! I wanna make a more smuttier version of this, any ideas? All of this is consensual, I do not tollerate r-word and any other problematic things
We know for sure that Ghost is always dead silent all the time and, speaking from my experience, you can't always be like that.
We want loud Ghost in bed! Imagine him sitting on your cock, all good and plaint, all at your mercy and giving out praises.
"Good boy" or "You are doing so good lovey" all while you ram into him biting and marking his neck and jawline, abusing his mouth with hungry and lust-filled kisses.
Or
He wants to get rough and you quickly oblige. Gripping firmly his short dark blond hair as his mouth is half open unable to form coherent phrases and just capable to form moans and whimpers.
He adores when you call him whore, reminding him where his place is, may even chocking (slightly) the protests out of him.
He wants to stay put? Collar him. After a good fuck all he wants is a collar around his neck, you love pink? He will have a pink collar with hearts all over it. A good dog tag with his name "Simon" engraved on it.
A good pup must follow orders no? Tell him to suck you off, he will do it.
You hand pushing his head deeper and your ears hearing those delightful whines of someone who just can't be totally satisfied.
But good pups must be rewarded too you know? Fill him to the brim and if you cum leaks out, push it back inside with a thumb and fuck it back into his abused hole (or cunt) and watch it trail back out just to do it how many times he wants.
Whore!Ghost who loves bondage, he knows he is safe in the bedroom, you two talked about what to do and what to not do as well as safe words so he can enjoy the moments in peace.
In these times, he loves being helpless in the hands of his kidnapper and to live he must endure the "torture" you have for him.
He can't cum, poor baby :( he must endure all the teasing his nipples are suffering, he can't disobey you otherwise he will not have a good ending.
He had to watch you pleasure yourself and whine at the fact he couldn't put his strong hands on your body and give it want it wanted.
He was stuck with his arms on his back secured with the ropes and your mouth on his sex:
is it a cock? Good luck for him, you are gonna tease the fuck out of him sith your warm wet tongue around his pubic and jacob's ladder piercings.
And no he can't cum, good boys listen to their masters
or is it a cunt? Well he mist feel his poor lips being played with and your skilled fingers ram into it. You just look at his abused cunt, all red and filled with juices, watching at how your fingers fill with them and glisten at the light. You can't help but to taste them and wink at him.
#cod x male reader#call of duty#cod mw2#male reader#call of duty modern warfare#simon riley x male reader#ghost x male reader#simon ghost riley#simon riley x reader#simon x reader#simon riley#simon riley x you#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost headcanons#ghost imagine#top male reader#male x male#x reader#x male reader insert#gay smut#smut#whore!Ghost
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always kind of was, j. black
chapter eight, hollow bones
â jacob black x f. reader
a/n: i wonder what is so important he had to leave to do hmmmm i wonder
prev. series masterlist! next.
Since you got back, Jacob found small ways to be around again: dropping by to fix the deck light without being asked, showing up with a socket wrench like heâd just remembered your dad had mentioned the grill was busted. He was around enough that your parents started teasing you again, throwing each other knowing looks over dinner like they knew something you didnât.
You got comfortable. Too comfortable.
Lately, the nights had started to feel off.
He bailed more. Told you he was busy. Said he was tired. You didnât push, but you noticed. The way his eyes drifted toward the treeline more often. The way his phone would buzz and heâd get quiet. He never said it, but you knew there was something pulling him away from youâsomething heavy he didnât want you to carry with him.
Jacob hadnât texted. Not a blurry sunset picture. Not even his usual dry, late-night âyou alive?â that youâd come to expect when the house was quiet and everyone else had gone to bed.
You stared at your phone too long, your thumb hovering over his contact, but you didnât type anything. You expected the dots to pop up on your screen first, like maybe he was already thinking of you.
That weekend, you waited for him at the dock for a fishing day and a swim. You stood with your pole, glancing at your phone every few minutes. When five oâclock came and went, you sat down instead, feet dangling in the water. Then the minutes turned into nearly two hours. Five missed calls to voicemail. You werenât sure why you kept waiting.
Jacob: Iâm sorry I canât make it
You: Thatâs it?
Jacob: Iâm sorry
You left him on read. He eventually promised to make it up to you. Matilda and chocolate cake.
But tonight, the storm hit before he did.
You waited too long in the living room, your parents eventually giving up and kissing your head before heading to bed. You wandered into the kitchen instead, looking for somethingâcomfort, distraction, sugar. Anything.
The storm outside was violent. Unseasonal. Like it didnât belong in a lazy summer night. You stood at the window with a glass of water, blanket around your shoulders, the lightning making brief ghosts of the trees outside.
Thenâtwo sharp bangs on the door.
Your heart leapt up into your throat. You opened the door, blanket still clutched, anger already stitched into your expression.
Jacob stood there, soaked. Shirtless, barefoot, hair flattened to his face, his body steaming faintly in the cold night air.
âWhy the hell are you not wearing clothes, Jacob?â you snapped before you could stop yourself. âWhere are your shoes? Youâre gonna catch a coldââ
You dragged him inside, grabbed a towel, shoved it into his chest. âClean your feet before my mom sees those prints and has a heart attack.â
He didnât say anything, just quietly doing as you said.
âYou bailed on me again, and now you show up like this?â You threw your blanket over his shoulders out of reflex. âWhat is up with you lately?â
âIâm sorry,â he said, voice low like it hurt to say anything at all.
âCouldnât you have texted me? Called?â
He pushed his hair back and looked at you. âDidnât think it would come down this hard.â
âYou scared the hell out of me,â you admit, quieter this time. âI thought something happened.â
âIâm okay.â He hesitated. âDidnât mean to scare you.â
You hugged himâbrief, sharpâand he froze before returning it, his hands settled lightly on the small of your back.
âNo cake, Iâm guessing?â
He looked away. Not a funny joke, you guess. âIâm not staying. I justâJust wanted to come by. Say sorry.â
Your chest tightens.
âThatâs it?â
âI have to go soon.â
You studied him. The way his jaw clenched. The flicker of something in his eyes he couldnât quite hide.
"Donât lie to me, Jacob. Justâdonât. Iâm not mad that you missed things; Iâm mad you didnât tell me you would. Iâm not a strangerâyou donât need to vanish. And Iâm confused. Confused why you donât respond for hours, why you show up at one in the morning, why your clothes are missing." you let out a slight laugh at how ridiculous you sound.
âI know.â
âThen why do you keep doing it?â
âItâs complicated.â
âYeah. Thatâs what people say when they donât want to talk about things. Avoid things.â
Silence. Then a soft âI donât want to hurt you.â
âThatâs not your call.â
You didnât realize your voice was shaking until he looked at you, his brow drawn, almost like it hurt him.
âIâm leaving soon, Jake. I only get you for the summer. Everyone else gets you the rest of the year and I hate feeling like Iâm begging for scraps of time from someone whoâs supposed to be my best friend.â
He winced, like that hit harder than he expected.
âStay,â you almost beg. âJust until the storm slows.â
âI canât.â
âWhy? Is it something I did? Something I said?â
âNo.â It came out sharp, too fast. âNo. Itâs not you, no.â
You stared at him. At the way his hands fidgeted with the edge of the towel. At how he couldnât look you in the eyes anymore.
âYou used to tell me everything,â you said.
âI still want to.â
âThen tell me why it feels like youâre not really here anymore.â
You didnât mean for it to sound like a plea, but it did. Soft and breaking and too close to the truth. Jacob didnât move. His eyes flickered to yours, then down to the floor again, like he couldnât stand to meet the look in your face. Like it might burn.
You watched him breathe. His chest rose and fell too slow, like each inhale was a choice he had to make. The towel in his hands hung limp now, damp and wrung out at the edges where his fingers twisted the fabric.
He shook his head once, barely. âI canât explain it.â
âYou mean you wonât.â
âItâs not the same thing.â
Your throat tightened. âIt is when you used to tell me everything.â
âI still want to.â he repeats, this time more desperate like heâs trying to get you to understand something hiding behind his words.
âThen do it.â You took a step closer. âJust be honest. Tell me whatever it is that makes you disappear. That makes you lie about why you donât come around. That makes you look at me like youâre already halfway gone.â
You didnât raise your voice, but something cracked under the surfaceâraw and hollow. He heard it. His jaw tensed. His eyes flicked to the window as thunder rolled again in the distance. For a second, he looked like he wanted to bolt. Like staying here any longer was going to ruin something.
He didnât move, didnât say anything, didnât even try.
The thunder outside cracked louder this time, a low roar rolling through the floorboards. Rain lashed the windows in steady waves, but inside, the silence thickened like fog. You could feel it clinging to your skinâheavy, electric, expectant.
âSay something,â you said, quieter now. It didnât come out angry. Just tired. Bone-deep and quiet, like youâd already given him all the fight you had.
Jacobâs lips parted, then closed again. His eyes shiftedâyour face, the floor, the towel in his handsâanywhere but yours. Like he was hunting for an answer that didnât exist. Or one that wouldnât destroy you both.
âIâŚâ His voice cracked, barely there. This wasnât the Jacob Black you knew and loved. He scrubbed a hand down his face, jaw tight, rainwater still dripping from the ends of his hair. âI donât know how.â
You stared at him. This boy used to finish your sentences, used to look at you like the world made sense. Now he stood soaked and silent in your living room, unable to finish his own sentence, and he felt farther away than ever.
The rain pounded down harder as if on cue, the wind howling against the side of the house, rattling the windows like fists against glass.
You didnât move. Neither did he.
âI hate this,â you said, almost a whisper. âI hate pretending like everythingâs fine when itâs not. I hate wondering if I did something wrong. If I said too much or not enough. I hate how I keep waiting for you to come backâto actually come backâbut every time you show up, itâs like Iâm watching you from the other side of a glass wall.â
He flinched, not visibly, not muchâbut you noticed. A ripple in his shoulders. A breath that caught too hard in his throat.
âIâm still me,â he said, low and shaky.
âThen why donât you feel like you?â
Jacob swallowed hard. He turned away like he couldnât stand being seen by you as if he would come undone if he looked at you too long.
The towel hit the floor.
âI canât stay tonight.â
The words landed like a blow. You didnât know what you expectedâbut not that. Anything but that.
You nodded slowly, lips pressed together. âRight. Of course.â
You stepped back to give him space, even though all you wanted to do was close it. Grab his hand. Shake him. Ask him what the hell he was doingâwhy he was running when you were right here, asking him to stay. But you didnât because what good was holding onto someone who was already slipping away? Making the choice to do so?
He moved toward the door, slow but sure, like each step pulled him farther into a choice he didnât want to make. The storm outside surged louder, wind curling beneath the frame like it was trying to claw its way in and keep him here.
His hand hovered over the doorknob.
You didnât say his name.
He didnât say yours.
The door opened with a groan and the cold rushed in. Damp and bitter. He stood there for a second, shoulders hunched again, back to you, like he might turn around. Like he wanted to. Like maybe, just maybe, heâd choose you this time over whatever secret he was hiding.
But then the door clicked shut and he was gone.
You stood there for a long time, staring at the empty space where he had just been. The towel still lay on the floor, the rain still pelted the windows, the silence stretched until it wrapped itself around your chest like a second skin.
You were alone and this time, it wasnât an accident.
#jacob black#jacob black x reader#jacob black x y/n#jacob black x female reader#jacob black x you#jacob black fanfic#x reader#twilight x reader#twilight#jacob black fluff#jacob black fic#twilight x you#twilight fanfiction
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onyankapon x blackfemreader!
Genre: Sexy Hot Nasty Ass Smut
âMmph!â Your eyes roll back as rough big hands held over your mouth, fingers sliding off the white clean sink and your thigh almost slipping off of it. Your foot that was on the floor and still in your pink marc jacob slides curl and grip on it. âShut that shit up right now.â A slap was made to your ass cheek and you cry out through his spit covered fingers. Your back was arched and you open your eyes to look in the bathroom mirror.
Onyankapon stands there thrusting ruthlessly in your fat tight cunt, one hand covering your mouth as the other held your thigh that was on top of the sink in place, your short white nails gripping the sink and one hand falls to onyâs lower stomach, you moan and thankful his hand around your mouth was holding you back cause your face would have fallen on the mirror. âO-ony pleaseuuhhhâ your voice is muffled and quiet, âwhat i say huh?â Gold one row grill sitting on his pretty white teeth as he spoke angrily in your ear. Hand now on your neck and his other hand smacking your thigh harshly.
Tears started to form and now he moved closer, chin on your shoulder and he thrusted up, circling his hips into you like he hated you. You almost thought he did until he moaned loudly when your pussy tightened up, signaling your upcoming orgasm. âY-you always fuckin- shit. Always playin with me like you donât give a fuck.â His hand on your neck tightened, your thighs shook and you made eye contact with him in the mirror.
âI donât give a fuck, a-about your damn commitment issues. You hear me?â The hand that was on your neck smacks your cheek lightly to make sure you were listening, you gasp and whine ây-yes ony ohmygosh. please please, i-im so sorry hnnn.â You didnât mean to ghost ony for a week, you just got so detached from your phone you forgot someone actually cared for you and wanted to speak to you all the time and make sure you were okay. You hear him grumbling on the side of you but you just couldnât think.
First he kisses your shoulder, then your cheek and neck. He turns your head towards him so you guys can go in for a sloppy kiss, exchanging moans all while he deep in your tummy. âPussy so good and y-you was finna leave me hm? Make me feel so fuckin good mama.â
Youâre gonna fucking cum.
The way he looks at you with low eyes and the way he rasp his sentences.
âOnyâ it was differentâŚthis orgasm was different. You felt like crying and it was so hard to breath. Your lips formed a pout and you felt your eyes burning with tears .. ânghhh shit w-wait pa ohmygoshhhh wait!â
âNow you want me to wait? Thought you was working for that nut? Cum on that shit, make my shit more wet baby.â Oh and you fucking did. Thighs shaking and you were whining so fucking loud. âP-pa hnnnn daddy fuuck pl-please i c-canât stop-â you were making such a big mess, squirting on the sink and it drips in the floor, hearing the plop plop plop. And your cunt was so fucking tight! âUhn shit.â Ony gasp.
And the unnecessarily loud squelching. Ony was looking down at your pretty two toned pussy, speading your pussy lips from behind to capture your wetness and creaminess. He bites his lips and closes his eyes as his head leaned back âmhhmâ he mumbles and started beating your shit up for a quick second. âImma cum mama⌠cum in this nasty ass pussy, f-fuck baby.â His hips staggered and he moved his face towards your moaning neck. Kissing and groaning up in it ass his bust his load into you.
Both breathing heavy and high on sex.
âDo that shit again and itâs gonna be worse.â
#onyankopon smut#ony x black reader#onyankopon x black y/n#onyankopon x reader#aot onyankopon#onyankapon#aot x reader#aot smut#aot x y/n#aot x black reader#smut#black woman#black fem reader#black reader
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Evenfall
Imagine you wake up in Twilight as a random side character. (Part 5)
Nullification!reader Human reader! Fem reader! SideCharacter Bella! Isekai au! Edward Cullen X reader. Eventually Jacob Black x reader. (2 endings.) (All characters will be written less creepy and one dimensional than the ones in the books.)
Previous - Next
Edwards eyes were glinting again with the emotion that Y/N still could not place.
'What?' Y/N asked, rolling onto her stomach, head resting on her arms.
'Nothing. It's just nice to finally feel the sun again.' Edward smiled, closing his eyes and laying on his back, breathing deeply.
Was there something on her lips? Why was he touching them? Y/N lifted her hand to brush over her lips.
âWas there something on my face?â Y/N asked, sitting up. âIf you say there's a bug I will scream.â
âNo, just some grass, it's gone now.â Edward lied smoothly. He looked a mixture of frustrated and amused. Where else would he find such an oblivious girl who was adamant on not seeing how much he liked her? It was as if she couldnât see herself at all.
He stood up, offering a hand. Y/N let herself be pulled up, grasping his marble hands. He looked rueful, dropping her hand as soon as Y/N stood up.
âHow can you not be afraid?â He let out a growl, dashing past Y/N before her eyes could focus on his form. He was now standing ten metres away, eyes boring into her from just beyond the thicket.
Was Edward having his emo moment?Â
âYou can't run from us.â He said, suddenly In front of her again, impossibly fast.
âYou can't scream or-â
âLook, youâre not a spider, or a roach.' She rolled her eyes, interrupting.
'The only thing scary about you is the fact that you mood swing so hard.â Y/N raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms, her tone final.
âI get that you think you're the world's best predator, but so are humans.â Y/N pointed at him, as if scolding. âYou may be dangerous, but so is every human being, plant or animal. You may be a vampire Edward but you nor your family scare me.â She jabbed at him with her finger.
âHell, not even ghosts scare me.â She threw up her hands in frustration. âIf you wanted me dead, I would have been the day that van skidded.â Â
âBut I-â
âEdward, youâre a good person and Iâm betting youâre also a good friend.â She shook her head emphatically.Â
âI am not scared of you more than I am scared of every other man nor do I think youâre an angel. You may be a vampire but that is you physically. Everything else about you is still human.â Y/N rubbed her hands on temples, looking down and continuing.
âYour emotions, your moral compass and your brain is still human Edward.â She ended, hands on her hips looking as imposing as she could.
âI don't think I've been scolded by anyone sinceâŚ.â He trailed off. âI don't even think Carlisle has scolded me.â He let out a small laugh, disbelief evident in his eyes. In the books, Y/N was pretty sure Carslie let Edward runoff during the mid 19th century so she wasnât surprised.
âYou really are something.â He murmured, placing a hand on her arm, willing her to drop her stance. âIâll try not to be so self deprecating.âÂ
Y/N looked at him and sighed. âOld habits die hard right?â She relaxed her arms and shrugged, allowing him to coax her from her temper.
âEighty year old habits.â Edward grinned, looking slightly self-conscious. It seemed as if time did little to expand a vampire's emotional maturity.
It made sense seeing as the immortal children were also stuck at a childâs mentality.
âYeah I donât think you've aged mentally since, to be honest.â She smirked, then added, âNo offence.â
âNone taken. Although I would like to add that I do have two graduate degrees in Medicine.â He crossed his arms, his face reminded her of a puppy, waiting for a treat. It was so unfair how Edwardâs face was able to dazzle her so easily. Who in the world was Stephanie Meyer thinking of when she wrote this damn book?
âHuh, you can study all day for twenty four hours. I guess it makes sense. One could say you had a slight advantageâŚâ Y/N cheeked, to which Edward playfully hummed. He jokingly took a step forward, his hands poised.
âWhy you cheeky little..â He sneaked forward as Y/N stepped backwards with an impish smile.
âShouldnât I get a headstart?âÂ
âI would, but if I'm being honest. I'm afraid you'll get lost or trip over somethingâŚâ With that he blurred to Y/Nâs side, gently snatching her up by the waist and spinning her around.
âSo I think I'm going to just keep you right here with me.â He flashed a grin, his teeth sparkling in the sunlight.Â
âHonestly if you glittered the same way in the moonlight, I could use you as a torch.â Y/N blinked, she poked his forehead with a finger, awkwardly dangling from his gentle hold.
âWow, you are exceptional.â Edward closed his eyes, breathing in deeply with a wistful smile.
Y/n was miffed, âWhaddâya mean?â She mumbled, as Edward set her down, kneeling on the ground.
âGet on, weâre going home.â
âItâs like five o'clock.â Y/N protested, nudging Edward over with her foot to which he chuckled, playing along.
âYou need dinner. Weâre going home so I can drive us.âÂ
âCanât I have more pasta?â Y/N mumbled, climbing back onto Edwardâs back, hands around his neck, brushing her thumbs over his cool skin. Edward hummed pleasantly as Y/N mushed her warm cheek into his back.Â
âHmm, I could have that arranged.â He said, shifting her weight. âClose your eyes.âÂ
The trip back lasted less than ten seconds. They reached the familiar window, landing on it as Y/N flitted her eyelids open. The sun was beginning to set, casting a breathtaking orange glow across the horizon.
âThey made pasta without us even asking.â Edward gave a light chuckle, setting Y/N down smoothly.Â
âI love your family. Can I marry them?â Y/N joked, skipping through the door, next to Edward as he led them to the kitchen.
âNo one but me is single in my family.â He smirked, looking down at her, âYouâd be marrying me.âÂ
âHm, Iâd have to think about that.â Y/N mused, putting her chin between her thumb and index finger. âYou do have all the qualities that matter in this day and age.âÂ
âWhatâs that?â
âMoney, good looks and youth.â
âIâm glad to know you think Iâm good looking.â
âWhat am I? Blind?â Y/N laughed, reaching the kitchen, smelling the same delicious scent as this morning.
âWelcome back!â Alice called from the table.
The Cullen's were all sitting around the dining table, behind the kitchen island. On the marble white table was a single plate of spaghetti with a set of utensils.
âIs that for me?â Y/N smiled gleefully, keenly looking at the plate.
âOf course,â Rosalie answered, pulling out a chair. âCome sit.âÂ
âSo, has Edward told you everything?â Carlisle smiled, both his elbows on the table, his hands clasped. Y/N picked up her fork and replied,
âWell, mainly everything butâŚâ Y/N brought the food to her mouth and chewed.Â
âI told her everything she asked.â Edward frowned
âWell, one thing I want to know more about is why he says that he canât stand to be near or away from me.â Y/N said, after swallowing her mouthful of food.
âWell, youâre what we would call, his blood singer.â Carlisle began explaining. âYour blood entices him more than any other, your scent is the most appealing to him in any situation.â
âSo, what Iâm like a drug to him?â Y/N blinked, twirling her pasta with her fork.
âYes, youâre like my personal brand of cocaine.â Edward answered, resting his elbow on the table, head resting on his closed fist.
âThatâs⌠interesting?â Y/N looked disgruntled, continuing to eat her food.
The conversation took a lull, the Cullens deciding to discuss their plans for an upcoming hunting trip. Meaning that the sun would be out soon.
As soon as Y/N had finished her plate, she spoke up,
âJust one last thing⌠If there are vampires, do werewolves exist? â Y/N raised her eyebrows quizzically, standing to put her plate in the sink.
âIâm afraid that's something youâll have to ask the people youâre thinking about.â Carlisle said in a grim tone. His perfect statue face, carved in an ironic, stony expression. It seemed as if he already knew where she was going with that question.
âOkay, thank you Dr Cullen.â Y/N nodded, as Edward moved to take her plate to the sink, slipping it from her grip.
âCarlisle is fine. We arenât at the hospital. Besides, I think weâre past the point of titles donât you think?â He smiled, standing from the table. âI assume Edward will be driving you home?âÂ
âYes sir!â Y/N nodded, before correcting herself. âI mean, Yes Dr- I mean, yes Carlisle.â She fumbled, wringing her hands nervously.
The Cullen family were getting too friendly. What was Y/N going to do when they met Bella? She was the main character after all. And what was she supposed to do about Jacob? He had to imprint on Bella and Edwardâs daughter, that was his story line wasnât it?
As Y/N spiraled in her head. The rest of the family chuckled, saying their goodbyes as they one by one stepped out of the room.
âI havenât said this in almost a century but, a penny for your thoughts?â Edward smiled gently, leading her by the waist.
âJust thinking about what will happen to me when you eventually get sick of me.â Y/N word vomited, looking at Edward in a slight panic.
âWhat on earth are you talking about?â Edward frowned, eyebrows furrowed, looking mildly disturbed.
âWell, won't the novelty of you not being able to read my mind wear off at some point?â Y/N shook her head, picking at skin on her hands.Â
âIâm sorry but even if I can't hear your mind, your facial expressions speak louder than words.â Edwardâs marble hands closed over Y/Nâs fidgeting ones.
âYou speak without words sometimes, I like that you're so open.â He whispered, his golden eyes were glittering, lit up by the lamps inside the corridor.
âSo youâll still be my friend if I'm not the only one you can't hear?â Y/N stared at her covered hands. Edwardâs skin was freezing but comforting all the same.
âAlso, do you guys need lights? Don't you guys have night vision?â She looked up abruptly while Edward in turn, stared at her incredulously.
âWhere on earth does your mind go in between thinking I'm going to abandon you and asking me questions Iâm not expecting?âÂ
âI think about getting a dog too sometimes.â
âHm, Iâm not too fond of dogs myself.â Edward grimaced, looking as if he knew something she didnât. The family called out their goodbyes from their rooms as Y/N walked by.
âWhy? Puppies are cute and they love you so much! Yâknow beside the fact that they kinda stink and you have to clean up their poop.â Y/N hummed, pulling her shoes on and tying up the laces.
âWell, we can get one someday if youâd like.â Edward smiled, offering his hand again to lead her to the car.
âHuh? What am I? Gonna marry you?â Y/N teased. âPlanning our future already? You havenât even taken me on a date yet!â
âI just took you to meet my family. What do you think that was?â Edward gave a humoured laugh guiding Y/N into her seat.
âHuh?â Y/N blanched, eyes bug-wide and mouth open in complete confusion.
âYou couldnât tell?â He chuckled, gazing at the shell shocked girl with affection. Edward was leaning over Y/N, his arm bracing his form on the open car door.
Y/N shook her head, mouth snapping shut.
âI can slow down if youâd like.â Edward grinned, eyes crinkling at the edges warmly.
âHuh?!â Y/N was not processing this at all.
âBut I have no intention of stopping unless you explicitly tell me to.â Edward gently closed the car door and blurred over to the opposite side, opening the door and sliding in perfectly.
Y/N stared at Edward, unable to comprehend the current conversation.
âYou like me?â She asked for the third time, not believing her ears.
However, to Edwards credit. He took the questions all in stride as a true gentleman.
âWhy me?â She asked the first new question in five minutes.
âYouâre kind, youâre emotionally mature and youâre not easily shaken. Not only that, you make it so that I don't hate myself.â Edward shrugged, one hand on the wheel, his head resting on the other hand curled into a fist. He was doing very little to hide the smile on his face.
âWeâve only known each other since Friday! â
âThat is true.â He hummed, shifting his gaze onto her with a tender smile. âBut I canât exactly help it. Once one of our kind forms an attachment to someone, it only snowballs from there really.â His smile turned apologetic.
âDoes it have something to do with having a perfect memory?â Y/N asked, suddenly interested in this new information.
âSomething like that.â Edward looked back toward the road. âFor example, this afternoon, I will remember for the rest of my life. From the way your voice blended perfectly with the forest birds. To the way your eyes were illuminated by the setting sun.â Â
Edward gave a content sigh before turning the car to park in front of Charlieâs driveway.
âEven if I wanted to, I donât think I could forget that.â He closed his eyes, breathing deeply for a second before opening his eyes again.
âHow are you single?â Y/N gave him a dubious look to which he snorted.
âIâm actively trying to change that status with you right now.â He opened the drivers-sided car door and whisked over to Y/N in a flash.
âEdwardâŚâ Y/N sighed, as the boy opened her door and held out his hand.
âI didnât tell you to pressure you Y/N.â Edward hummed, leading her toward the front door.
âI did it so you know Iâm not going to randomly abandon you as you so fear. I hate that you think I'm so fickle. That is something I'll have to work on.' He gave her a chaste kiss on her forehead, giving her ample time to pull away. Time that Y/N did not take. Edwardâs lips were cold and smooth on her skin, like nothing she had ever felt before.
Before she could speak, the front door was flung open by a disgruntled Charlie.
âSeven Thirty on the dot huh.â Charlie's eyebrow lifted into a perfect arch.
âYes Chief Swan.â Edward gave him a polite smile, squeezing Y/Nâs hand gently before relinquishing her. âIâll see you soon Y/Nâ He gave her an implicit look, glancing at her room for a second.
Luckily for him, it was a gaze that Charlie had missed. Instead, he was checking Y/N for any signs of possible harm before ushering her back inside, almost not letting her wave goodbye to Edward.
âHow was it? Did the boy treat you well?â Charlie spitfired questions as Y/N shrugged off her jacket.
âHe was a gentleman! His family was very gracious and we had pasta for dinner.â Y/N laughed, amused by the fatherly instincts that were currently on display.
âEnough about me, is Bella here?â Y/N peered into the kitchen, spotting an empty table and chair.
âShe went upstairs, said she wanted to unpack after dinner. I could knock on her door?â Charlie looked unsure of what to do. He wanted both the girls to get along but he wasn't sure how.
âItâs okay, Iâm sure sheâll say hello in the morning!â Y/N gave Charlie a reassuring pat on the back before moving to go upstairs.Â
âIâll see you in the morning?â She smiled.
âYeah sounds like a plan, Goodnight kiddo.â
âGânight Uncle Charlie.â Y/N called out, trekking her way up the stairs.
Y/N glanced at the door on the far end of the hallway before shaking her head and opening her own door.
âWhat is that smell?â a voice whispered, starling Y/N.
âWhat the-â
âI did say see you soon.â The musical voice replied cheekily.
âSeriously though, your house smells like rotten fruit and white chocolate. I hate white chocolate.â Edward growled, grabbing a pillow and nuzzling his face into it. Y/N took note of how he relaxed when he seemingly inhaled into the pillow.
âAre you sniffing my pillowâŚâ
âI CANâT HELP IT! YOUR HOUSE SMELLS TERRIBLE!â He whisper-yelled in a whiny voice.
âI think you might be smelling Charlie's daughter, Bella SwanâŚâ
âSeven hells she stinks.â Edward groaned, unhanding the pillow and pulling Y/N's arm, allowing her to fall onto his lap. He nudged his cold nose into her neck, sending shivers down her spine.
âJust for a second, please. Need to clear my nose.â He huffed, his nose barely grazing the nape of her neck.
âThis seems normal for teenagers.â Y/N mumbled, her cheeks feeling hot. âAlso are you sitting on my bed with outside clothes? Her voice took on a stern tone.
âMm Iâll change your sheets for you.â Edwardâs eyes fluttered open, his eyelashes ticking Y/Nâs skin. âAre they in that closet?â He jutted out his thumb.
âUh huh. Iâm gonna change. If you peek I will scream and Charlie will shoot you. You wonât die but itâll hurt.â Y/N pointed, before grabbing some clothing from the opened closet and walking into the bathroom.
âFeisty one arenât ya?â Edward snickered, pulling off her covers and starting to swap out her sheets.
-
It was now nine and Y/N had settled into her sheets, allowing Edward to slide in with her. He had gone home and changed his clothing in about ten seconds.
Unbeknownst to Y/N he had literally torn off his shirt in such a hurry.
She was leaning into his side, his arm resting on her bed frame.
âYouâre not going to watch me sleep are you?â Y/N wrinkled her nose.
âNo, I would never do that without your permission.â Edward shook his head, his tone insistent. âI only came up here because I wanted to wish you goodnight before tomorrow.â He sat up straighter, looking panicked.
âI was joking.â Y/N laughed quietly, nudging him with her elbow. âNow go home so your family doesnât think I put out on the first date.â
âThey wouldnât think that. They adore you, Alice and Rosalie especially. Rosalie thinks youâre cute and Alice wants to take you shopping.â Edward sighed, slipping off her bed and straightening up his clothes.
âHuh, I knew i shouldâa dressed betterâŚâ Y/N frowned, looking back at her closet.
âYou would look great in a trash bag.â
âWhy the flying fuck would I be wearing a trash bag.â
âGood point.â Edward smiled.
âUntil good morrow my dear kind sir.â
âI bid thee a fine farewell fair lady.â Edward gave a small bow, hand over his heart, eyes lowered.
âClose the window on your way out Edward.â Y/N rolled her eyes, sliding back into her bed.
âSweet dreams Y/N/N.â He winked, sliding smoothly out of her window and shutting it quietly. With a final wave, Edward dropped with a soft almost unnoticeable whump leaving Y/N alone in her room.
âWhat a day.â Y/N mumbled, turning off her lamp.
EDIT-
OK SO IDK I kind of want to write out Bella, I think as a character she isn't quite as developed (Stephanie Meyer kind of self inserted so.... She's pretty one dimensional making it kind of hard to write unless I make her my own character.) So lmk what you think? Sorry it took so long! I'm going to the doctors today so I thought i might as well show you guys what I have for chapter five! Follow the post if you want to see the updates! (you can unfollow after I've updated! Tag lists are beyond me-) (p.s if you comment I'll probably @ you when I've updated!)
#edward cullen x reader#edward cullen#twilight saga x reader#twilight x reader#twilight x you#twilight saga#The twilight saga x reader
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it takes a rampage (to be a dad)
!! fluff & angst; simonâs pov; simonâs insecurities; vague descriptions of violence; repeating allusions to past child abuse; parenthood; f!reader // wc: 3.5k // dividers by @/plutism!
a spinoff of the apple that rolled over to the tree
simonâs not a good man, but he concedes that there are just certain circumstances where you have to be the good man. where you have to bleed and burn through, and sacrifice a shit ton because thatâs what being good is.
case in point: the child, who couldnât be any more than two, bundled in his arms as the squad tries to come down from the adrenaline after a dangerously high-tension exfil.
âwhere,â johnny pauses, breathing deeply, quick fingers unlatching any tight strapping thatâs making it difficult to gulp in air. âwhere ye dumpinâ the brat?â
itâs callously said, but they all know johnnyâs meant it in a place of worryâwhich is founded, by all accounts, because the base is a terrible place to care for a two year old toddler. no oneâs even equipped to deal with the boy, not with the mission still on its last legs; granted, the winding dregs would only require their captain, maybe garrick for backup, to finish but nothing is ever certain.
butâ
the boy shifts on his lap, big brown eyes staring up at simon with unfathomable trust. like the sight of his mask, and weapons, and even having seen him in actionâpoised guns and clean shots on the head; unfazed eyes scanning the explosion of brain matter spilling heâs causedâwas not petrifying.
simon knows what they say about ghostâthe living boogeyman; the harbinger of death and destruction. and yet here the little boy is, looking up at him like simon isnât anything other than man; like simon is something so human.
simon thinks about his place back home thatâs dancing close to the outskirts of the city; he thinks about its picket fence and its brick walls and its big backyard.
he thinks about its love, forged from the softest hands that simonâs ever held; from the hands of the only one that simonâs ever loved.
âiâm bringinâ âim âome.â
.
laswell was kind enough to pull some strings so that the boy has whatever legal documents he needed so simon can bring him back safelyâpassport, citizenship papers⌠adoption documents.
jacob emory riley. (yakov in russian. yasha.) heâs simonâs ward now. his son.
(laswell had congratulated him with crinkled eyes and the softest of smiles; it might just be the first simonâs ever seen her look so at peace.
somehow, it was that brief talk with laswell that made everything feel tangibly raw; simon realized that things got too real too fast, and that he found himself almost wanting to reverse everything heâd done so far because what if he wouldnât be a good guardian to the child? what if simonâs too broken for the child? what ifâ
his thoughts stuttered, quaking until they reach a tentative halt because the boy closed his little fist around the entirety of simonâs finger. he was so small, like that, and still so blindingly trusting even with all the littering scars on his little arms and little legs. he held onto simon so fiercely, he didnât even notice the turmoil in simonâs heart. or how simon had almost given him away in an act of his cowardice because simon is a coward. especially with this.
but jacobâ
but yasha held him, chose him, and the storm raging in his head died down, petering into a quiet chill until simon could bite out a weak but not any less genuine, âthank you,â to laswell.
laswell stared at him, all-knowing as always, before bidding him and yasha a sweet goodbye.)
the boy responds better with the diminutive, all giggly and grabby hands as he toddles over simon. the rest of the squad had eased into their roles, battle-worn bodies turning into the softest cushions with yasha in their arms. he is a shy little thing, hiding behind simonâs leg whenever price would come visit, or refusing to be put down from simonâs arms or even make eye contact with mactavish when itâs his turn to babysit.
garrick was a different story altogether. yasha had looked at him once, studying with such inquisitive curiosity, before deeming his sergeant the safest after simon. heâd grumbled and cooed and begged for uppiesâgarrick had been all too pleased to give it to him.
which is why saying goodbye now is difficult.
yasha would not stop crying, pale face all blotchy and snotty as he wails, chubby arms thrashing, trying to reach for kyle, but the sergeant and their captain are already suited for the mission, ready to leave the moment simon and johnny and little yasha do.
âky! ky!â he cries out, unable to fully say kyleâs name but trying so desperately because his grief is so much bigger than himself.
simon bounces him on his hip, trying to calm the little tyke down, but shrill wails pierce their ears, unstoppable, and he wonders if it was too cruel to have made him say goodbye to kyle and price. simon heard from the medic that it was healthy for children to cry, but yasha sobs like he is grieving, and simon canât fault himâthis is his first, and hopefully his last for a long while, experience of abandonment. sure, theyâve all told him that kyle would just be gone for a while, but yasha is a child, unable to reconcile such reality where his uncle isnât flying home with him.
(they didnât mention the fragility of their lives in their line of work; how, every time they suit up, there are chances that theyâll never return. yasha is too young for such reality.
âsides, kyle promised to come back. so he has to.)
kyle is teary-eyed, so is mactavish, and simon presses his sorryâs and his reassurances on yashaâs inky black hair, while kyle makes a vow once more.
âdonât worry, son,â their captain croons, his face creased in the softest it has ever been. âi promise iâll bring your uncle back in one piece.â
yasha sniffles, watery brown eyes not looking away. then, âoâay.â he lifts an arm up, waving it cautiously. âbuh-bye?â
âyeah, bubsy,â their captain replies because no one can, not kyle who is crying nor simon who canât lift his face up from where heâs breathing in his sonâs baby smell. âbye bye.â
âbuh-bye,â yasha repeats, still quiet but more sure. âky? buh-bye?â
kyle chuckles wetly. he steps forward and pinches yashaâs cheek. âbye bye, little man. see you in two weeks, okay?â
yasha hums, having grown exhausted from his emotional outburst. the base shrink said thatâs normal for children; that itâs good when theyâre emotional, itâs healthy, so simon bites the inside of his cheek to stop himself from fussing.
instead, as a distraction, he nods at his captain and his sergeant, and he and mactavish turn to leave.
âdaddy?â the little tyke asks.
âyeah?â simon replies, turning his full attention to yasha.
âbuh-bye?â
âoh, son no,â simon murmurs. âdaddyâs always goinâ tâbe with you.â
yasha nods, and flops back down on simonâs chest, satisfied.
.
the flight was tedious, sprinkle the listless child with that, and it was just about draining. he couldnât thank johnny enough for being with him throughout because being an uncle to tommyâs kids didnât teach simon much about thisâcranky and emotional two year-oldâs, and their complicated tastebuds that almost made it impossible to feed them aeroplane food, and their odd sleeping patterns.
but as simon shoots yasha a glance, watching the boy sleep peacefully finally, he thinks to himself how itâs all so worth it.
.
johnny doesnât follow them to prestwich, crashing instead somewhere in stratford before making his way back to dundee. yasha hadnât cried as hard for johnny as he did when he said goodbye to kyle, but heâd been teary-eyed even when he refused to be given to his sergeantâs waiting arms. still, simonâs boy had been solemn and gave mactavish a weak wave.
simon tells yasha that johnny would come back in two weeksâ time too, with the captain and garrick, before trailing off when he realized he doesnât know how to tell yasha exactly why johnny was giving them space.
shit, he hadnât even thought about how yasha would react whenâ
the house appears past barren trees, and simonâs lungs constrict in one full swoop. god, heâs missed this place, very much so.
pinpricks fill the back of his eyes, and he desperately blinks them away as he tries swallowing past the lump in his throat, but not even the familiar warmth of yasha could ground simon back. rather, the reminder that simonâs not returning on his own this time makes everything feel a lot more intense, like ragged tendrils curling at the base of his neck, grasping him until reality and faraway dreams blend into something miasmic.
simonâs never once deluded himself with thoughts of having his own family. he once thought heâd go grey on his own, something he was perfectly fine with because nothing is ever sacredâthe catholics had a word for it, johnny said, how oneâs mere existence was the original sin, and simon is neither a pagan nor a believer, but when you grow up with shadows that are ever so perpetually haunting, you learn that not even the sign of the cross can truly ward off the demons.
but then, his beloved appeared before himâjust as⌠fearful; as self-punishing as he had been, and he knows it was twisted but he had been pulled. he had been lulled into the weight of your gravitational force, dragging his heart until it was homesick for anything less.
(two words have never sounded sweeter to him before.
i do.
since then, heâs never hunger for more.)
(until yasha.)
the cab stops, the driver dutifully ignoring how simon must look, all brooding and emotional as he holds his child close, like if he blinks, someone would take him away. he tips generously, and declines any offer of helping with the unloading of bags in the trunk. simon didnât even bring much, just a travel bag and a rucksack stuffed with as many travel essentials for yasha.
the boy is asleep again, exhaustion dragging him back to his dreams. he looks so peaceful like this, and younger too, and simon knows that isnât a good thing because yashaâs so small for a two year old. simonâs only comfort is that heâs bringing him somewhere safe; a place filled with boundless love.
he walks to the front door, debating on whether he should just take the spare key underneath the nondescript potted plant to get in or just bite the bullet and introduce yasha to you like this, through the entrance.
the choice is taken from him when you swing the door open, surprise and disbelief lining your face.
âi saw youââ you say at the same time that he rasps out, âloveââ
he beckons you to go first. you did so with a tremor in your voice.
âi saw you from the cameras,â you pause, roving your wide eyes over him, before stopping at the bundle heâs carrying. âhaley helped me set them upâsaid you can, uh, get notification of movements outside and, andâŚâ
he watches as you realize that youâre about to ramble, so you take a deep breath, finding the centre of your gravity, before, âbaby? whoâŚâ
simon adjusts his hold on yasha, before a careful hand sweeps away the blanket so you can see the boy better.
âthis,â he says, quiet and fragile. âthis is our son, jacob emory riley.â he licks at his chapped lips, the word âourâ settling so warmly in the pit of his stomach. âour yasha.â
âoh,â you whimper instantly, tears already springing from your eyes. a choked sound gets stuck on the back of your throat before youâre rushing forward, careful to not jostle the tyke awake, until youâre pressing yourself against simonâs side, watching raptly.
âsimon heâsââ you hiccup, rubbing your face on his shoulder. âdarling, heâs perfect.â
simon ducks down to brush his lips on the crown of your head, humming deep because yeah, he is. but so are youâand he wouldnât have done this, anyway, without you. because yasha deserved the best and simon doesnât know anyone who could step up other than you.
you, who is so bright and joyful; who has crafted fortitude from the ragged shards of your pain.
you, who is the strongest person that simonâs ever met; how you could look at the storm and find a reason to dance.
you, who is so beautiful and lovely, and so utterly full of love that it spills into everyone you meet and everything you do.
yasha deserves you.
and, love, you deserve a family just like this too.
.
yasha wakes up and simon makes the mistake of not being there for him. he didnât even know he accidentally slept in the living room, long body sprawled on the couch gracelessly. he jolts awake after the loud ring of cries, the fear he felt at hearing yashaâs familiar sobbing slams so fiercely into simonâs heart.
he topples to the ground, knees thudding against the hardwood floors, before he bolts up, frantic as he tears through the house, trying to find his boy, desperate to comfort him and to apologize and to make things right because he never wants yasha to feel so alone in his new homeâ
simon pauses, feet stopping just in front of the bedroom where you and simon had put yasha in since the guest room has yet to be baby proofed and prepared, when he hears your familiar croon.
âshh, darlinâ. youâre alright, i promise.â
simon angles himself so that he can see through the ajar door. youâre kneeling on the floor, head a few feet away from where yashaâs is pillowed. the boy is staring at you with wide eyes, wet and red, but heâs no longer wailing, and simon wonders if itâs because yashaâs internalizing his fear, but then he sees the tyke make grabby hands at youâpudgy fists closing, then opening again. he seems like a baby like this, more than a toddler, and simon watches as you coo, inching closer, giving yasha room to roll away if he wants, but the boy turns to his side, facing you properly, and itâs all the confirmation you need to take him in your arms.
you rise up from the floor, yasha perched on your hip. the boy is still watching you, curious, and you murmur something too faint for simon to hear, before wiping at his wet cheeks and his runny nose.
âhi, love,â you murmur, voice a tad quiet. simon sees the hesitance in your gait, like you donât know what else to say. it takes a heartbeat, before youâre uttering your name, voice curling around the vowels the way simon never gets tired of hearing.
âiâve heard good things about you, you know?â you say, brushing the pad of your finger along the bridge of yashaâs nose. simonâs ears pick up huffing sounds, then your giggles, and yashaâs hum.
âoh, i sure did,â you add, smiling, bouncing the toddler in your arms. âsimon said youâre the best boy ever!â
simon did, he guesses, say that but with more wordsâhe told you how he found yasha, and how yasha had been so brave after such a stressful change in his life; how yasha had been so excited to learn and to trust, and how heâd brighten up everyoneâs day back at the base; how yasha had first called him daddy, and the others uncaâ, his brave little boy so eager for a family that he made one even when all heâs surrounded with was a ragtag of broken men.
yasha is truly such a beautiful boy, so darling and loving.
âsi-âon?â yasha says, attempting simonâs name.
âyeah,â you reply, just as choked up as simon is. âsimon⌠your daddy.â
yasha hums, fist curling up your shirt.
âdaddy,â he repeats, nodding. then, like he remembers that simon isnât there, yasha begins to look distraught again, whining, looking up to you like you hold the answer when he asks, âdaddy where?â
simon takes that chance to walk in. you two whirl to look at him, both with pained faces easing up into the loveliest of smiles just at his mere presence. it makes simon feel⌠raw; that somehow, all he needs to be is himself, and itâs enough to brighten up the room.
his lips twitch up in his own smile too.
âhey there, kid,â he greets, slotting himself to your side so he can pull you close and be in yashaâs line of sight.
you turn, moving to pass yasha to him, but the boyâs hand is still tight on your shirt and he still looks at ease with you, and simon nuzzles his face on the top of your head in comfort when he sees the way your lips wobble at yashaâs easy display of trust.
âdaddy!â yasha cheers. âyou here!â
simon ruffles the soft tufts of yashaâs hair. âof course. did you nap good?â
yasha nods, distracted by the bright colours on the bed. the yellow pillows and the baby blue blanket.
the dog stuff toy.
yasha gasps, utterly delighted, and he wriggles out, begging to be put down, and you and simon watch as he runs to the side of the bed, plucking the toy out with a giggle.
âtowy!â he says, showing it to you and simon.
simon files the name for next time, focusing on yasha as he runs to hug simonâs leg, then yours, before running back to the bed, chatting animatedly to the toy.
simon pulls you close, slotting your back to his front to bury his face on the crook of your neck, because this, right here, is change. but also, heâs home.
âi missed you,â he murmurs, because it is the only thing he can verbalize. he wants to say moreâhe wants to say how heâs never once stopped thinking about you, how heâs always kept a picture he has of you in his helmet, tucked under the crown pad, how heâd always toy with his ring when he has the chance because simon is made of many things, and one of them is your love.
but this is all that forms from his lips, inadequate, but then simon hears the twinkle of your laughter, and, âi missed you too, love.â and knows, there neednât be any more words. not when you two have more time than heâs ever had the privilege to spend.
.
the first time yasha calls you his momââmommy!ââwas just days before the squad was set to meet the rileyâs in their residence.
it was a mundane day; you and yasha are in the living room, playing with his army of anatolyâsâtowyâwhen yasha squeals, finally able to dig out his favourite anatoly from underneath the couch after futile attempts. youâve asked him if you can help him with it, but heâd been so adamant, tutting the way simon does and itâs honestly so adorable that you let him have at it.
so you laughed at the sound of his happy trills, watching as he turns, running to you, saying, âmommy, towy look!â
he falls to your lap, humphing loudly and smooshing the turtle stuffie on your face, and all you can do is gather him close, trying not to cry in front of him butâ
heâs called you mommy.
your little brave boy called youâ
âmommy, sad?â yasha asks, readily giving you another treasure, saying the word so naturally like you were never anything else to him.
âno, sweet pea,â you reply, choked up with the weight of your joy. âmommyâs the happiest sheâs been.â
you kiss his chubby cheek, breathing in his scent, before letting him squirm out of your hold so he can play with another anatoly, leaving you the turtle one. you hold it close, trying to ground yourself, but the happiness bloats and you feel floaty.
god, it is almost unimaginable.
(you tell it to simon later at night, and simon coos as he wipes the tears away from your cheeks.
âiâm so, so happy si,â you breathe out.
simon bumps his forehead to yours. âi am too, baby.â)
.
simon is not pouting, thank you very much. if anyone says otherwise, heâd like to go on record and say that theyâre all a bunch of liars. yes, that includes his beautiful wife too because, again, simon is not pouting.
sure yasha has refused to detach himself from uncle kyle, but that doesnât mean simonâs jealous, he swears.
âyer a lying scumbag,â johnny hisses at him because heâs been trying to get simon to admit that heâs jealous, which simon isnât. âiâm on you, LT. iâm on you.â
âwhatever âtavish,â simon grumbles, hands twitching at another hearty giggle that rings from where kyle is playing with yasha. âlast i checked, the boy still runs away from you so, you know, start with that.â
âoh you motherfuââ
âboys,â price barked out, and simon and johnny cringe at the chastising voice of their captain. âlanguage.â
johnny says something that no one picks up because heâs chewing on his words. simon sniffs, looking away only to meet your eyes. unabashed glee is bright on your face, and simon knows he would be hearing you teasing about this later on tonight.
simon scrunches his nose. you reply with a playful rolling of your eyes.
yeah, itâs a good day. and simon still isnât pouting.
notes: it turned out to have heavier (?) parts than expected. also to clarify, yashaâs been picked up from a mission (the specifics were removed since things got a wee graphic). iâve included a concept photo of simon and yasha, which was fun to use while reimagining! i hope u guys liked this <3 peace out and sm love mwah!!
#simon ghost riley#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley#simon riley x reader#simon riley fluff#cod x reader#suns
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andy barber + "you don't need anything, you want it"
optional scenario: assassin/mercenary
undone by a pretty spring sundress
pairing: dilf!andy barber x babysitter!female reader
warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), smut, piv sex, unprotected sex, creampie, unspecified age gap (but reader is def out of college), thigh riding, dirty talk, daddy kink, praise kink, light bdsm, pet names (sweetheart, angel), some bratting, referenced spanking, fluffy ending
word count: 2,100ish
a/n: instead of assassin/mercenary Andy Barber, may i offer you dilf Andy Barber? 𫣠lol let's be honest, Andy is always a dilf đ¤ but i've already done ex's dad Andy and dbf August so i wanted to do a different trope and i've never done a babysitter fic so i gave it a shot!! hope you enjoy, Aspen!!
The sounds of shrieking laughter and childish games filtered into Andy Barberâs kitchen while you stood at the counter, putting together a bouquet of spring flowers that would sit nicely on his dining room table. Youâd retreated into the house because youâd needed a break from the party Andy was hostingâthe one heâd hired you for the afternoon to help him host.
It was a little outside your normal duties, since you typically worked as Andyâs babysitter, watching his young son on nights the single father had to work late at his law practice. You knew some of the parents in the neighborhood thought you were a little old to be babysitting, given you were old enough to be married and have a family of your own.Â
But you ignored them because you enjoyed babysitting for Andy. It helped supplement the meager pay you received from your day job, and you liked spending time with Andyâs son Jacob, who was a sweet kid. More than that, though, you found yourself really enjoying spending time with Andy.
And if you werenât mistaken, Andy liked having you around as well.Â
In the months that youâd worked for Andy, youâd grown increasingly aware of the way he stared at you when he thought you werenât paying attention.Â
His crystal blue eyes would drift down to your tits when you were looking something up on your phone. And more than once, you couldâve sworn you felt his gaze on your ass when youâd bent over to pick up some toys on the floor. But each time, when you turned to the older man, he was innocently looking elsewhere.
Altogether, youâd gotten the impression that Andy might want you to be more than his babysitter, but he hadnât yet acted on the heated looks he gave you. So you may have taken matters into your own hands and worn a skimpy little sundress to the party he was hosting for the neighbors and all their kids. And you were delighted when it had the intended effect.
You hadnât been in the kitchen for more than a few minutes when Andy cornered you, using the moment when everyone else was distracted by watching the children play a game theyâd made up to approach you. His body crowded you into the counter, close enough that you could feel the warmth of him brushing against the swaths of bare skin not covered by your sundress.
âI need to speak to you upstairs,â Andy murmured in your ear. His warm breath ghosted over your cheek and bare shoulder, causing goosebumps to raise all along your arms.
But you stifled the shiver racing down your spine and continued fluffing the flowers in the vase in front of you, pretending you didnât notice the demanding edge of Andyâs voice or the way he crowded into you. After all, heâd waited months to approach you, and you decided you wanted to have a little fun with him before you gave in to the tension crackling between the two of you.
âYou donât need anything, you want it,â you responded cheekily, your tone light and playful. âIsnât that what youâre always telling Jacob, Mr. Barber?â You tossed your head to the side and gave the older man a sly smile over your shoulder.
Andyâs expression darkened, his soft mouth pulling down in a frown that was framed perfectly by his neatly trimmed beard. He looked particularly delicious in a simple blue t-shirt and jeansâthough you also appreciated all the suits he wore for his job as a lawyer. Youâd spent many a night imagining Andy undressing you entirely while he stayed all buttoned up in one of his suits, making you hump the bulge in his slacksâŚ
Andyâs big hand wrapping around your upper arm brought you back from your distracted thoughts.
âI assure you, sweetheart, what Iâm feeling is a needânot a want,â Andy growled, dragging you away from the counter and forcing you to abandon your bouquet. You didnât protest, though, as he led you toward the stairs and up to the second floor of his suburban Massachusetts home.Â
Andy had only just pulled you into his bedroom and closed the door when he spun you around and crowded into you until your back hit the door. Then, with a muttered curse, Andy ducked down and captured your lips with his own, kissing you so passionately, your head spun.Â
You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and kissed him back just as fervently, your mouth parting and allowing his tongue to twine with yours. He groaned into your lips as he tasted you, the deep sound of his pleasure making you hot all over, wetness gathering between your thighs while your mouths slid together. You squirmed against Andyâs hard body, pressing your softness against him as your body yearned for friction.
Andy shoved one of his legs between yours, his big hands gripping your hips tightly and shifting you so that your pussy rubbed against his thigh. You wrenched your mouth from his with a sharp gasp, your body rocking against his as pleasure shot through you from the tips of your fingers to the ends of your toes. Andy watched you with hooded eyes as you humped against him, hands sliding down your sides.
âWish I could watch you ride my thigh all afternoon, angel, but I need to be inside you,â Andy groaned, reaching beneath your dress and hooking his fingers in your panties, moving you back to pull them down your trembling legs. You let out a little whine at the loss of friction against your pussy, but Andy only hushed you. âShh, I know sweetheart, youâre needy too, arenât ya? Need daddy to fuck you, huh?â
Your head fell back against the door with a thunk and you let out a breathy, surprised, âDaddy,â tasting the way the word sounded on your tongue and enjoying it far too much.Â
âThatâs it, angel, call me daddy,â Andy murmured fervently before capturing your lips in another kiss. You could feel his hands working his jeans open and pulling out his cock, but you couldnât move your arms from around his shoulders; you were pretty sure if you did, youâd collapse to his feet. âChrist, I knew ya would be perfectâbeen wanting this for so long, but that pretty spring sundress of yours was my undoing.â
A pleased smirk curled the edges of your mouth at Andyâs confession, and you decided youâd tell him later that had been your intention with wearing it. For the moment, though, you simply leaned up to whisper some teasing words in Andyâs ear. âIf you need me so bad, then take me, daddy.â
Andy hooked an arm around your waist and spun you again, walking you back to his bed and easing you down onto the plush softness of his blankets while his hips settled between your thighs. His cock rested against your bare pussy, making you moan with desire.
âGonna have to make this quick, sweetheart,â Andy murmured as he brushed kisses to your jaw and cheeks, his hips grinding his length against your soaked folds, getting himself drenched in your arousal. âBut next time Iâll fuck you soft and slow like you deserve, alright?â
âOK, daddy,â you said on a moan, tilting your hips to grind your bare pussy against his cock. Andy buried a grunt in your neck and reached between your bodies, adjusting his cock until the tip pressed against your entrance.Â
Then, all at at once, Andy pushed inside you, both of you moaning at the feel of his thick, hard cock stretching out your tight, warm pussy. It was better than you ever imagined, having him inside you, your body taking his entire length and joining you to him in the most intimate way.
âFeel so good, daddy,â you murmured breathily, your mind spinning with pleasure. You cupped Andyâs face in your hands, your nails raking through his beard gently, as you stared up at him. You hoped every bit of the pleasure you felt was clear on your face, so he could see how good he made you feel.
Andy seemed to, his smile filled with affection and arousal of his own. He leaned down and brushed a kiss to your lips, teasing you with the flick of his tongue before pulling away and catching your eye.Â
âReady, angel?âÂ
âYes, daddy,â you answered sweetly, more ready for him than he could even know.
Then Andy took what he needed, and gave you what you needed, too. He fucked you hard and fast, pumping his thick cock into your tight channel with a ruthlessness youâd only ever glimpsed when heâd take work calls at home. He was brutal, and you wanted to scream your pleasure, but Andyâs hand covered your mouth, keeping you from being overheard by all the neighbors crowded in the backyard.
When he seemed to be getting close, Andy reached between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit and rubbing in tight little circles until you shattered apart around him. You came so hard, you bit down on the flesh of his palm to keep yourself quiet.
Andy didnât seem to mind, grunting through the sting of your teeth and the delicious clench of your pussy, fucking you harder until he pressed deep and came inside you. You shivered when you felt his load leak out around his cock, in awe when you realized just how much come he mustâve pumped you full of that it was overflowing.Â
As you caught your breath, Andy peppered your face with light kisses, praising you. âSuch a good girl, sweetheart, so fucking good for daddy.â He kissed the apple of your cheek, his beard tickling you and making you giggle softly. âNow, I need you to keep my come safe inside you for the rest of the afternoon, can you do that, angel?â Andy asked, catching your eye and giving you a serious look. His hand pressed against your lower belly, making your pussy flutter while butterflies took flight in your chest.Â
It was on the tip of your tongue to simply say yes, but a delightful thought took hold of your mind and you found your lips forming the same words they had earlier in Andyâs kitchen. âYou donât need anything, daddy, you want it,â you said, giggling when Andyâs face turned stormy.
âYouâre lucky we have to get back to our guests, angel,â Andy growled pressing his forehead to yours while he glared at you, though there wasnât much anger to his gazeâonly desperate arousal. âOtherwise Iâd put you over my knee and show you what I do when youâre a bratty bad girl.â
You were helpless to your bodyâs reaction to his words, your cunt clenching hard around Andyâs cock and making him chuckle. âI need it, daddy,â you cried, hands fisting in his t-shirt and trying to hold him close.
But Andy was already moving away, pulling out and stuffing his cock back in his pants. You watched him with a pout while he grinned down at you. When his appearance was presentable enough, Andy hauled you up from the bed and smoothed your dress down over your curves, fixing it for you.Â
âBe a good girl and help me get through the rest of this party and we can have some fun later,â Andy promised, pressing a kiss to your forehead. Then, like he couldnât help himself, he caught your mouth in one last deliciously sinful kiss.Â
You returned to the party with Andy, finishing your bouquet of spring flowers and putting it out on the table. Then, you helped him wrangle the kids and their parents for dessert, everyone enjoying the beautiful spring evening.Â
If anyone from the neighborhood noticed that, after you returned, Andy treated you more like his partner than his babysitter, they didnât say anything. (In fact, in the weeks and months that followed, when it became clear the two of you were together, each of your neighbors would try to take credit for setting the two of you up.) When everyone left, they thanked you just as much as Andy for hosting the wonderful party.
Once everyone was gone and youâd helped Andy put Jacob to bed, he delivered on his promise of rewarding you for your good behavior. Later that night when you told him youâd worn your skimpy little outfit just to see if heâd finally make a move on you, Andy chuckled and murmured that heâd forgive your naughty trick just that once. Then, he made sure to show you just how undone he was by your pretty spring sundress.
#witchywithwhiskey's springtime fun#andy barber#andy barber x reader#andy barber smut#andy barber fanfiction#andy barber x you#chris evans#chris evans fanfiction#chris evans smut#chris evans characters#witchywithwhiskeywork#buckets-and-trees
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Happy Haunts
Melissa Schemmenti is a tough cookie. Until she watches a horror movie.
When you got to work on this particular stormy Halloween you didnât expect to run around the entire school looking for a child dressed as Thanos, but here you are dressed in your best Captain Carter costume going through the halls with Melissa.
âOkay this stagnant chocolate smell is making me wanna barf.â You groan bringing your arm up to cover your nose.
âThis kid thrives on chaos thatâs for damn sure.â The redhead nods eyeing you slyly. Your toned arms were on full display in your tight shirt, the material complimenting your body well. âSo, what are your plans for tonight, Cap?â
Chuckling you glance at the scarlet witch with a smile. âWell, Iâm third wheeling with Jacob and Zach. Weâre going to a haunt and Iâm almost certain Jacob will run out. What are your Halloween plans with Mr. Year round candy guy?â
Having a crush on a coworker was hard, but it made it even more difficult knowing she was dating someone, especially a guy that was so irritatingly nice like Gary.
Melissa chuckles, immediately sobering at your question. âGary? Heâs a nice guy, but it didnât work out.â She shrugs.
âOh.â Is all you can say. That was new information and you felt bad for thinking it, but you were glad it hadnât worked out between the two. Maybe you could grow some guts and finally ask the redhead out.
After following trails of candy wrappers and chocolate baby Thanos is found by Chad, and his reign of terror over Abbott is finished. Now in the break room after dismissal you sit with your plastic shield on the table with a cup of coffee in hand watching the rain splatter the window.
âHey Captain,â Melissa gets your attention, purse slung over her shoulder, âHowâs about you let the scaredy cats go to the haunted house and you come get scared with me?â
âAre you calling yourself scary, Mel? âCause I donât buy it.â You tease grabbing your own bags ready to leave. The idea of spending more time outside of work with Melissa had your heart fluttering in your ribcage. The little crush you had since you started teaching at Abbott went from a spark to a roaring fire fast, and now, thanks to class prep and staff meetings. it may be time to act.
âWe can hand out candy and watch something scary.â Crimson lips turn into a smile that youâve only ever seen on the Cheshire Cat.
âWhat kind of wine should I bring?â
âRed, six oâclock. Donât be late.â She shoots you a smile over her shoulder.
She might as well be a real witch with the hold she has on you already. In the couple hours you had between work and Melissaâs, you went home to freshen up, opting to stay in your costume for now and being a change of clothes for later just in case the night went late.
At six oâclock on the dot you knock on the paper ghost covered door with a bottle of red wine in gloved hand, chuckling at the sound of scared squeals from kids down the street. âLet me in thereâs monsters out here!â You joke.
When the door opens Melissaâs there in all her scarlet witch glory sans her boots. Taking in the sight you canât help but smile. âOh my god, Mel.â You laugh adoringly. âWithout the boots youâre just adorable. You donât have the threatening witch look.â
The redhead rolls her eyes adoringly opening the door wider. âQuiet, muscles. Iâm giving my feet a break before the kids start coming.â
Following her in you close the door kicking your boots off already enjoying the warmth and smell of the house.
âWhatâs that smell? My mouth is watering.â
Cape flowing behind her the redhead goes to the oven letting out a wave of warm air as she pulls out a pan of pizza.
âMargherita mozzarel.â She smiles sliding the colorful pizza onto the wooden tray.
You shake your head with a smile moving to wash your hands at the sink. âHow did you manage that in just two hours?â
âMagic, hon.â She winks rotating the tray as she cuts into the dough, your breath catching in your throat.
âWhere are your glasses?â You hum reaching for the wine bottle trying to distract yourself.
âRight here,â her voice is soft, her hand even softer as she holds onto your arm to reach past you to the cupboard. Bringing two glasses out between her fingers Melissa smiles setting them on the counter beside you. Itâs like she was doing it on purpose.
Dinner eaten and two glasses of wine in, you and Melissa are chuckling away on the front porch handing candy out to the kids. When you see her shiver slightly from the cool air, you wrap your arm around her shoulders gently running your thumb over her skin. âThese rugrats are slowing down, feel like going back in?â You ask knowing she has a movie planned.
âYeah,â Melissa smiles warmly at you, standing up with an empty candy bowl. âLetâs see how long you can last.â
Your breath catches in your throat, eyes wide as you duck your head, all of a sudden very worried about tripping as you follow her into the house.
âYou know, these movies can get scary.â She teases you.
âYeah,â you chuckle nervously, âyeah, movies.â
As you change out of your costume in Melissaâs bathroom, you lean against the door taking a breath. She was teasing you, thatâs all it was. You two were having a fun night as friends. Clad in your sweatpants and a Flyers t-shirt you meet Melissa back in the dim living room chuckling when you see whatâs ready to go on tv.
âThis all you got Schemmenti?â You tease sitting next to her, Laurie strode paused on the tv screen.
âHey, Michael is horrifying okay.â She argues sprinkling the flavor seasoning over her popcorn.
âThereâs no way youâre afraid of these movies, Mel.â
âIâm not,â she scoffs playing it off, patting the cushion next to her, âIâm thinking about you. Now sit your cute ass down.â
Rolling your eyes you sit shoulder to shoulder as the eerie music starts, smiling when you catch Melissa looking at you.
âWatch the movie, scaredy cat.â You whisper reaching over for a piece of popcorn.
As the movie continues you both move slowly, fingers reaching into the popcorn bowl cautiously as the stormy night on the tv screen unsettles you. When a thud comes through the speakers Melissa flinches almost dropping the bowl.
âDolce GesĂş!â She lets out in Italian looping her arm with yours. Pink nails dig into the skin of your forearm making you hum in protest. Slowly pulling away you reach back wrapping your arm around her shoulders instead holding her close. Smelling the wine mixed with her make up from the day you canât help but smile.
The Halloween classic continues, and at some point you end up laying on the couch, Melissa practically on top of you with her face hidden in your neck.
âYou canât have sex while a killers on the loose!â Her muffled voice comes out, soft breath against your skin making you laugh.
âTheyâre horny teenagers, Mel they didnât get the memo.â
Throughout the rest of the movie Melissa plays peek a boo with the screen, using you as a human shield. Eventually your hand finds her back. Fingers moving lazily against the warm fabric you sigh contently enjoying this feeling, grateful that Melissa is comfortable enough to be this vulnerable with you. Before you know it, the eerie piano plays again as Melissa rests her chin on your shoulder meeting your eyes.
âI have a confession to make, hon.â
âWhatâs that?â You ask quietly, a dazed smile that you couldnât help on your lips.
âIâm not afraid of scary movies.â
Taken aback for a moment you look into jade eyes, pupils dilated and looking at you with nothing but pure admiration.
âYou- so this-â you stammer, a soft chuckle rumbling in Melissaâs chest you can feel against your body.
Resting her hand on your hip the redhead tips her head up kissing your cheek.
âYouâll figure it out, hon.â
Mind going a mile a minute you lay there stunned until you feel her lips on your cheek. âWait, Was this a date?â You ask quirking a brow feeling totally stupid.
Melissa smiles moving to hover over you.
âI thought it was. Do you want it to be?â
Instead of saying anything, you sit up, hands on the older womanâs hips as you lean in placing a soft kiss to her lips. It doesnât turn into anything else then, you both exploring new ground cautiously, hands moving slowly until your arms are around her waist.
âYou couldâve asked me out.â You chuckle keeping your arms around her. âYou didnât have to act scared over a movie.â
The redhead playfully rolls her eyes gently cupping your cheek.
âNot that Iâm complaining.â You lean in nuzzling your nose against hers.
Thereâs a comfortable moment of silence at the simple action, Melissaâs fingers playing with your hair.
âAlright, hon. Howâs about we go on a real date this weekend?â She suggests.
Smiling softly you nod keeping your hands on her hips.
âItâs a date.â
#abbott elementary#lisa ann walter#Melissa Schemmenti#Melissa Schemmenti x reader#Jacob hill#Melissa Schemmenti x you
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