#when lenny met lenny

[exhausted-think-bucket]

The Beatles and Leonard Bernstein

Daddy loved the Beatles, too, which made me particularly happy. In the swimming pool the following summer, he came up with a third part to “Love Me Do,” so that he, Alexander, and I could sing the song together in three-part harmony, right there in the corner of the deep end. On one of his Young People’s Concerts, Daddy explained the A-B-A structure of sonata form by singing a Beatles song. Oh, how the girls in the audience squirmed and squealed as he accompanied himself on piano, singing “And I Love Her” in his not-so-McCartneyesque voice! He must have known he was onto something, because he began regularly incorporating the Beatles, and other pop music, in his Young People’s Concerts, to illustrate his various points. It kept the kids in the audience interested, just as it had for Alexander and me. (We, and later Nina, were in effect the ongoing guinea pigs for Daddy’s Young People’s Concert ideas.) John Lennon was Daddy’s favorite Beatle, as he was mine. We were both enchanted by Lennon’s book of poetry, “In His Own Write,” and pored over it together. Daddy invented a singing game for Alexander and me to play with him while the three of us lay wedged into the hammock under the big maple tree after dinner. We would invent a round, à la “Row, Row, Row Your Boat,” using Lennon’s poem “The Moldy Moldy Man.” Whoever started the round got to choose what kind of melody it would be: sad, perky, waltz, military. After the first line — “I’m a moldy moldy man…” — the second person had to come in, echoing person number one. Then the third person would come in. The fun of the game was, of course, that you couldn’t possibly repeat the line you’d just heard while simultaneously listening for the next one. It was deliciously hopeless, and a raucous shambles every time — always punctuated at the end by person number three dolefully singing the last line all alone after the other two had finished: “… I’m such a humble Joe.” Eventually, word got back to John Lennon — or to his manager or press agent or somebody — that Leonard Bernstein was thinking about possibly setting some of the “In His Own Write” poems to music. This led to Daddy being invited to meet Lennon backstage during a dress rehearsal for “The Ed Sullivan Show.” It was by now the summer of 1965, and the Beatles were returning to the U.S. to make their highly anticipated second Ed Sullivan appearance. Naturally, our father asked if he could bring his two older children with him to the rehearsal.

- "Famous Father Girl", Jamie Bernstein - 2018

Here is Leonard Bernstein being enchanted by The Beatles, in Inside Pop: The Rock Revolution, 1967.

Even though his viewpoint is understandably informed (and thus imo limited) by his classical background, he appreciated pop music a lot more than others his age at the time did.

I love everything about this, but honestly, to hear my favorite 20th century composer comparing Paul McCartney to Schumann is just...wild.

[aflawedfashion]

Honestly, I don't think Midge should end up with of the boyfriends/husbands we've seen her with

I think midge having several marriages, none of them lasting, while Susie is the platonic great love of her life would be an absolutely fitting end for this character

[urhoneycombwitch]

I know what they call you.

🍯 honey flavour: You’re a little lost in your head. Eddie wants to find you.

🐝 the bees: Eddie x shy!Reader, best friends Steve + Robin

wc: 11k 

cw: alcohol/weed used as a social crutch, R is hassled by a guy at a party (but her boys back her up), brief vomit mention, implied bad home life for R, light SH by way of tight grip, PTSD, R has breasts+V, praise kink, oral (R receiving), one (1) spank, multiple orgasms (R), soft dom!eddie, overstim, coming in pants (E)

foreword: The healing properties of good head <333 Anyways I labeled this R “shy” but she’s more… introverted? Reserved? this one goes out to the weird and off-putting girlies who have a lot to say but are kinda quiet instead. Timeline may be a bit wibbly but designed it to be early 4th-season era, with R (early 20s) having played an undetermined part in the various Upside Down battles from seasons previous.

Loosely based on this anon every1 say thank you anon!

___

It’s spring break, 1986, and you’re cursing the name of your so-called “best friend” Robin Buckley.

You didn’t even want to go to this stupid kegger in the first place, arguing with her the whole ride over from Steve’s backseat.

“Don’t you think it’s totally lame that you’re basically being chaperoned by two gap-year losers?” you’d said, leaning forward to rest your elbows on the console, seatbelt pulling taut across your Rolling Stones tee. “You’re a big girl, Robin, you don’t need Steve and me to babysit you anymore.”

Robin began protesting but Steve interrupted, tapping at your forearms without looking away from the road- “Sit back, wouldja, that’s not safe. And for the record, it’d only be lame if we were, like, thirty and still going to high school kickbacks. Gap-year drinking parties are a rite of passage.”

You’d sat back against your seat with a huff, arms crossed, unconvinced until Robin turned those big pleading eyes your way over the back of her seat. “You wanna talk about lame? Lame is me getting anywhere within a 60-foot radius of Vickie. I am totally hopeless around that absolute beauty.”

She’d twisted in her seat and reached for your hand, and you gave it to her grudgingly (the two of you ignoring another of Steve’s gripe about vehicular safety) as she said, “You’re like, the best wingwoman I’ve ever met. Please come to the party and help me avoid the natural disaster that is me running my mouth.”

Robin wasn’t just being generous- you were a killer third wheel. Especially when alcohol was involved: the walls that you naturally upheld around your introverted demeanor by day turned liquid as whiskey by night, often scoring you major cool points with your friends for things you barely remembered doing the day after. 

So you’d relented, and in turn resolved to get as drunk as possible as quickly as possible (in the name of Robin’s aid, of course), but turns out your best friend didn’t even need your help in the first place; within 5 minutes of setting foot in the crammed house party Robin won a spot right next to Vickie on the living room couch, starry-eyed gaze saved only for the redhead that bore no room for your intervention.

Three shots ago, the situation would have struck you as funny, but it’s been a lonely time (what with Steve abandoning you, too, in favor of chatting up some college blonde); drifting from packed room to packed room, sneakers sticking to the floorboards, winding through throngs of sweaty dancing students just to keep on top of your alcohol consumption.

Kind of like hunting in the wild, you muse, leaned against a wall with red solo cup in hand. Flirt with Amy Thacker and her low-cut blouse to access the watering hole (Mystery Punch, green both in color and flavor); let Lenny Baker put his paws on your waist to gain entry to the standing liquor cabinet. The stuff of nature docs.

If this dimly-lit Hawkins party is the savanna, then you are the antelope- grazing on snacks, never staying in one spot for too long, minding your own business and staying way the hell away from the lion’s den (the group of jocks in Hawkins Tigers polos).

Unfortunately, you push off the wall in search of a refill at the same time Lenny Baker decides to sidle up to you, nearly knocking the cup from your grasp when he bends his thick head to shout in your ear above the music. 

“Great party, right?” His arms are crossed above his tank of a chest, blocking you from a smooth exit via the kitchen archway.

“If you’re into drunk teens, I guess,” you say back, pointedly, licking a stripe up your wrist from where the punch had sloshed onto your bare arm. 

When you look back up Lenny’s still standing there, watching you with a hungry edge that’s starting to make your well-honed antelope-sense tingle. As you not-so-subtly cast your glance around for Steve, Lenny leans in again, close enough to give you a sour whiff of his breath. “I’m legal, if that’s what’s got your panties in a twist. And what’s wrong with having some fun?”

“I’m not into having fun with douchebags who ‘roid away their remaining brain cells to bully my friends,” you retort, flatly. You doubt this guy knows you’re connected to the Hellfire group (de facto sitter, second only to Steve), but the insult seems to land anyways. 

Lenny scoffs, going for a low blow to offset the sting of his bruised ego- “If you’re trying to play the part of slut, you were doing a way better job earlier.”

What the meathead hasn’t picked up on yet is your absolute lack of care about him- or anyone else at this stupid fucking party, for that matter. Besides Robin and Steve, obviously, but they’re equally indisposed at the moment. You’re feeling bold enough that you could play dirty: throw the dregs of your drink in his face, make a real scene- but the shots from earlier are hitting you sideways and you’re not entirely confident in your ability to multitask. 

So instead, with a wink, you tell him, “At least this slut knows when to quit,” and turn on your heel, abandoning the kitchen escape route for a closer door that leads to the back porch.

You suck in lungfuls of cool night air, trying to clear the fuzz of booze from your vision. When you don’t hear any angry footsteps following in your wake, you sink against the wooden bannister and tip back the last of your drink in one swallow. Maybe Steve doubled back to the car…?

With your empty cup left neatly on the railing, you set off down the couple of steps that separate you from the grass, except the toe of your shoe catches on a hidden groove in the wood, and nothing is within reach to grab onto as you trip and begin to fall.

The stumble should have ended with you facedown in the dirt, but something- someone- solid breaks your downward path, catching the upper half of your body in a sturdy hold even as your legs twist around themselves.

“Whoa, whoa, hey, I gotcha. You okay?”

The voice is instantly familiar, one that you’ve heard ringing out from underneath the drama room door on countless occasions as you’ve waited on your various child wards to wrap up their D&D sessions.

Eddie Munson is holding you in his leather-clad arms, larger than life with that big cloud of hair and doe-eyed gaze matching yours. He helps you stand, properly, dropping his hands once you’re stabilized and taking the warmth of his palms with him. 

“You okay?” he asks again, tilting his head, looking at you with fresh concern from under that mop of bangs. “Looks like you had a lot to drink.”

“Thanks, Dad,” you drawl, bravado flooding back in. “Am I really gonna get a fucking lecture on drinking from my local drug dealer?”

Instead of rising to the bait or bristling at your tone, Eddie grins- delighted, wolfish- before letting out a low whistle. “Who coulda guessed: resident Shy Girl has a mouth on her.”

You twist said mouth into your own smile, one that you hope is coy and charming and not dorkily lopsided (because you stopped being able to feel your face after that last drink), and coo, “You thinkin’ about my mouth, Munson?”

He laughs- a full, vibrant sound that lights up the night. There’s a flutter in your ribcage, knocking up a frenzy at the noise, like it wants to get out and at him, but you tamp it down and play it cool.

“You’ve only seen me in the cold, unforgiving light of day,” you continue, as Eddie rifles through his pockets, surfacing with a pack of cigs, eye contact yet to be broken. “My nighttime alter ego is a real riot, all liquored up.”

“Well, I happen to think you’re a riot in the sober light of day, too.” Eddie shrugs a shoulder as he flips the lid of the cigarette box.

You’re unsure if he’s messing with you- he’s gotta be, right? The only meaningful interaction you two have had in the past handful of years has been through the courtesy of the children in your respective care- a few surface-level conversations during carpool pickup, some flirting on his end that you’ve always been too skittish to return. 

Well, until now, you guess. Maybe this is a good thing, him seeing you like this- it’ll either scare him away, or you’ll finally make good on the quiet crush you’ve been harboring.

You’re about to speak again when the porch door opens with a bang; you and Eddie swivel at the same time to see Lenny clomping noisily towards the steps, voice booming out over the thrum of bass back inside- “This freak bothering you?”

You look between the metalhead and the jock, eyes wide and mocking as you call back, “No, but you’re starting to!”

“Jesus, talk about poking the bear,” you hear Eddie mutter behind you, but your focus is taken up by the fact that Lenny is tromping down the steps and reaching out to grab your upper arm, his cold and clammy palm taking up a sizeable amount of space.

You can feel that rage, simmering and easily accessed, start to crawl over your skin. You stand your ground in the face of someone much larger than you, sneakers planted firmly, chin tilted in defiance- I’ve killed monsters in alternate dimensions, asswipe. You might’ve scared me back in high school but now I dare you to fuck with me. 

Before Eddie can jump to your defense, you’re already going in for the bite, voice dripping with derisiveness. “So glad your right hand found its way off your dick for a change, Len. How about you do me one better and take it far, far away from here?”

Lenny’s face is almost purple with anger as his grip tightens, and you feel Eddie moving in at your back- to do what exactly, hard to say, ‘cuz Lenny’s got about 60 pounds on the lanky DM- but just as fast as the tension has ramped up, it gets diffused with the arrival of one Steve Harrington from around the corner of the house.

He cuts a smooth path through the grass to your other side, Robin’s sweater slung over one arm, twirling his car keys in neat loops around his finger, boasting a casual demeanor that doesn’t match up with the steely look he’s giving Lenny. “You heard the girl, Baker. Time to am-scray.”

Whether it’s the rumors of Steve’s nail bat or the manic look in your eyes or the fact that he’s outnumbered, Lenny’s got plenty of reason now to drop your arm. 

Which he does, spitting one last “bitch” at you before hulking off into the night.

The anger in you recedes like a wave. You breathe out a dry laugh, then turn back to the boys, clasping your hands over your heart with faux-dopeyness. “My heroes. How will I ever repay you?”

“Shutting up, for a change, would be a great start,” Steve grouses over the sound of Eddie’s cackles.

“Holy shit. Can’t believe your girl’s feistiness almost landed me in the hospital.” Eddie shakes his head, plucking a cigarette out and sticking it between his plush lips.

“She’s not my girl,” Steve says, even as you wind your arms around his chest from behind, tucking your chin over his shoulder. “She is, unfortunately, my problem.”

“I love when you two talk about me like I’m not here.” You simper at Eddie from your draped position.

He’s watching you with a fondness that feels overly familiar, through the haze of smoke streaming from his nostrils as you pat the chest beneath your hands- “Don’t worry about ol’ Stevie boy. He’s turned into quite the good guard dog after the whole Russian mall takeover last year.”

“Aaaaand that’s enough talking from you,” Steve says firmly, twisting out of your arms and putting his own around your waist. “Say goodbye to your new buddy, we’ve got a Robin to collect.”

As Steve steers you towards the direction of his car you wave at Eddie, a motion that he returns, his rings glinting in the porch light.

“Christ, you really are somethin’ else with some drinks in you,'' Steve fusses, helping you into the backseat, hand shooting up to block the door frame before your head can collide with the metal. “Did you seriously have to bring up the Russians?”

“He probably thought it was a joke, Steve,” you say, exasperated and fighting the twisted middle seatbelt with uncoordinated hands. “You know… those things that you tell people when you wanna get in their pants?”

The crack was aimed at Steve’s recent string of strike-outs in the dating department, but he throws it back at you. “You’re trying to get in Eddie Munson’s pants?”

“No,” you sputter, indignant and feeling suddenly too hot. 

Steve knocks your still-struggling hands from the belt, clicking you in himself, before pointing an accusatory finger in your face. “Stay here while I get Robin, and no throwing up in the Beemer.”

He shuts the door, Robin’s sweatshirt hanging from one shoulder while he stalks back into the house. 

You let your head fall back against the seat and close your eyes, bright cherry embers of cigarettes between lush-lipped curves dancing behind the dark of your lids. 

___

You manage to avoid throwing up in the BMW, saving the worst of it for the downstairs toilet of the Harrington house after Steve drags you and Robin indoors. Once your body is purged of the spirits, you collapse into your usual side of the guest bed, sweaty and exhausted, murmuring an apology to Robin who squeaks at the rocking movement of the mattress. In a few minutes, you’re lulled to sleep by the gentle snores of your best friend.

The morning sun is a very rude awakening, Robin apparently having forgotten to close the blinds before leaving with Steve for their shifts at Family Video. There’s a full glass of water on the bedside table and a few loose Tylenol tablets, the word “DRINK” sprawled on a sticky note in Steve’s handwriting.

You wince, down the meds along with half the water, and start the search for your sneakers.

When you’d signed up to protect a bunch of teens at the end of the world awhile back, it had seemed like a one-time gig. But now, here you were a few years later, loading yourself into your curb-parked junker to willingly cart around the same kids.

While wearing yesterday’s clothes. Even with the sprays of cologne that you’d stolen from Steve’s dresser, you’re pretty sure you’ll be fooling no one.

Evidenced by your first stop in east Hawkins for Dustin Henderson, who clambers into the front seat with a scathing appraisal. “Rough night?”

“You could say that,” you reply, shifting the gear to drive and grimacing at the subsequent squeal of metal that pierces into your left temple. “Learn from my mistakes as a washed-up twenty-something and cool it on the teen drinking, all right?”

“Washed up though you may be,” Dustin intones sagely, digging through his backpack and producing two brown-paper bundles, “you are now one Claudia Henderson Breakfast Sandwich Deluxe richer.”

You take the proffered sandwich gratefully, steering with one hand to peel back the oil-stained paper from the still-warm bread. “God. Is your mom looking to adopt?”

“She’s kind of got the perfect child already, but I’ll keep my ear to the ground for ya,” Dustin says around a mouthful of cheese and egg.

The solid breakfast helps your stomach ease back into a place of normality, but with your next stop adding two more kids to the mix, the rowdy bickering that follows puts that Tylenol to work.

“You’re an idiot,” Max is saying to Lucas over the sound of his indignation in the back seat. “You seriously think Indiana Jones would win against Supergirl? She can shapeshift, and she has heat vision.”

“All I’m saying is, it’s really hard to see a whip coming.” Lucas is stretching the limits of his seatbelt in his earnestness to get his girlfriend on his side.

It doesn’t work- Max rolls her eyes and taps at your shoulder. “Help me out here. His logic is totally shit, right?”

Making a turn onto the main road, you nod your assent without looking back. “I think you should listen to your very smart girlfriend, Lucas.”

Max makes a triumphant “hah”, and Dustin adds fuel to the argument’s fire when he drags in some other comic book character that you’ve never heard of. 

You hazard a glance in your rear-view mirror at Max, who’s too busy dishing out an enthusiastic rebuttal to notice. Her auburn braids swing with the movement of the car, and you wonder if they were done by her mother before work or if Max had to rely on her own hair expertise again. 

You’ve got a real soft spot for Max, always have. While you both have plenty of cause to bond over shitty home lives, it’s also Max’s brash and defiant attitude that drew you to her. She’s got the bravery you can only hope for, something that you are sure to tell her frequently, even though the compliment is hard for her to take.

You score a parking spot that’s right in front of the arcade, calling after the kids already scrambling out of your car that you want to leave at noon, sharp. They all give some form of distracted acknowledgement before disappearing into the building, so you figure the earliest you'll be getting out of here is noon-thirty. 

Not like you have much to do today, anyways, besides bother Steve and Robin at work- since the arcade is conveniently located right next to Family Video, it’s a perfect excuse to wait out the kids’ spring break activities in the company of your nearest and dearest.

You’re cutting a swift track up the sidewalk when you nearly collide with Eddie Munson, for the second time in less than 24 hours.

“Hey!” He beams at you, a wide, easy thing that fits on his face so well, like it was made to be there, boyish dimples digging in. “Long time no see.”

“Yeah,” you agree, trying to smile back but probably landing somewhere in the grimace region as memories of last night float to the forefront of your mind. Small talk. You can do it. Say something. “Um. Were you getting a movie?”

“Nah.” Eddie shakes his head, hooks a thumb at the Family Video doors behind himself. “Keith’s one of my regulars. That guy might actually smoke more weed than me.”

You hum mildly to show you’re still paying attention but really you’re looking at Eddie’s hair, dark curls that shift with each of his movements. His hair isn’t black, like you’ve been led to believe this whole time- with the morning light shining through, highlighting the halo frizz around the edges, it’s actually a deep, chocolatey brown.

Similar to his eyes. Which are trained on you. Because you haven’t talked in a weird amount of time and are now just openly ogling his hair. 

Before you can open your mouth to apologize Eddie asks, “You wanna smoke?”

You nod, perhaps a tad too enthusiastically, and then stretch on your tiptoes to peer around Eddie’s frame at the Family Video sign. “Yeah, but we gotta be fast unless you want the Wonder Twins joining us.”

His grin slips into a smirk, and he winks before taking your hand in his. “A quickie, then.”

That fluttering thing in your ribs is back. The metal of Eddie’s rings are cool against your palm as he leads you around the side of the building, dropping your hand once you both are leaned up against the red brick.

Trying not to outright stare again, you watch from the fringes of your vision as Eddie lights up and breathes a cloud of smoke into the air. His nails are painted black- they weren’t last night. An image of him- hunched over a kitchen table, tongue sticking out of those pillowy lips in concentration, a nail polish brush held in his long fingers- flits across your mind.

Eddie holds the cigarette out, filter-side towards you, and you shake your head lightly. “No thanks. I don’t actually smoke, I just wanted to talk to you.”

Eddie glows. Before he gets the wrong idea you start explaining, arms crossing tight over your chest in unconscious defense- “I wanted to talk about last night. And say I’m sorry. I’m not usually so…”

“Badass? Charming? Hot?” Eddie fills in when you trail off, taking in another deep drag of smoke. 

Christ. You feel heat rushing from head to toe as you ward off his flattery, nails nipping into your upper arms. “I was gonna say… talkative? I guess? I’m normally not one to pick fights, but Lenny was being a dick and I don’t like the way he treats the kids, or you, for that matter, and I was drunk and mouthy but that’s not an excuse to drag you into it and I’m sorry-”

“Hey, hey.” Eddie’s tone is soothing, low, cutting smoothly into your feverish confession. He reaches out and strokes the back of his knuckle across your hand, tiny half-moons from your nails leaving their impression as you soften your grasp on yourself.

He doesn’t seem to mind that you can’t look anywhere but at your sneakers planted in the gravel as he says, “You have nothing to apologize for, sweetheart. I’m a big boy, I can handle myself when it comes to dickwads like Lenny Baker. And I would say that rescuing fair maidens is part of my job description, but…”

Eddie stubs the half-smoked cigarette out against the brick, flicks it to the ground, and waits until you look up at him again before saying “You don’t seem like you’re in need of any saving.”

That flutter, again, as you hold his eye contact for as long as you can stand it. 

The corner of his mouth quirks up. “There she is.”

Mortified, you resist the urge to scream into your hands as you push off from the brick, instead squeezing them into fists at your sides. “Oh-kay. Well. I better head inside or Robin will send out the search party for me.”

Eddie lets you walk past him, but just before you turn the corner he says, “I’m across from the Mayfields in Forest Hills if you ever want some company. Or some good weed.”

Footfalls from his thick-heeled boots recede into the distance, and you take a minute to calm your breathing before pushing your way through the doors of Family Video.

Steve’s stocking a shelf of New Releases at the front of the store, vest-clad torso faced away as the bell above the door signals your entrance. On autopilot he monologues, “Welcome to Family Video, let us know how we can be of service.”

“Aw, I miss the days when you were forced to say Ahoy, mateys!” You tease, Steve turning to give you an irritated frown as you prop your hip against the register counter.

Robin clacks away on the computer, hitting the Enter key a little harder than necessary as she says, “You’re about one mall fire and a bajillion NDA’s too late to ever hear that shit again.”

Keith must be lurking around in the back office, ‘cuz the three of you only refer to last year’s cataclysmic series of events as a “mall fire” when you’re talking in code. 

Or if you’re trying to be funny. But based on the dark circles under Robin’s eyes and the harried way Steve’s shoving a hand through his hair as he drifts towards the counter, you surmise that the three of you are very much on the same page this morning with regards to humor and hijinks.

“I didn’t know it was possible to be this hungover,” Robin groans, sinking her hand into a torn-open Skittles bag and popping a handful into her mouth. “Sugar is supposed to help, right?”

You snort, fiddling with a stack of paper brochures as Steve leans against the counter. 

“Had any more run-ins with the town riffraff?” He asks, feigning casual, honey-colored eyes roaming around the shop.

“I’m visiting you, aren’t I?” You shoot back, unreasonably defensive. 

“Another point for the pretty lady, and Harrington strikes a zero,” Robin totals in her best sports broadcasting voice. “What the hell are you talking about, Steve?”

“Drinky McGee over here was spilling her guts last night to none other than Edward Munson,” Steve replies, looking satisfied when Robin’s eyes bug dramatically.

“Eddie?” Robin hops off the stool, sliding her hands from the other side of the counter to stop your own from ripping the brochures to shreds. “And what, pray tell, were you spilling about with Eddie Muson?”

“Nothing.” You pull your hands from Robin’s, rolling your eyes as if the stakes are low, when in fact the stakes are as tall as the Empire State Building. You can practically hear the wind whistling from this height. “I wasn’t… we barely talked. He was backing me up when some jock started messing with me. That’s all.”

Robin whirls on Steve with animosity- “You left her alone long enough for some meathead to get involved? Jesus, Steve, the hell is wrong with you?”

“Like you shacking up with Vickie after two Tears for Fears tracks is any more responsible!” Steve snaps.

Having spent enough time with both your friends to know their propensity towards petty arguments, you slap a hand against the counter to derail. “Hey! Both of you knock it off. It’s fine, I’m fine, we survived yet another night out on the town unscathed. Let’s just… drop it.”

Steve looks properly chastised, but Robin gets a glint in her eye that confirms she’s not thrown off the scent so easily. 

“You know what they call him, right?” she asks you, lowering her raspy voice even further.

“Eddie The Freak Munson,” Steve supplies, but shrinks noticeably when Robin gives him a withering look. “...not that, then?”

“Of course you, Steve The Hair Harrington, would only know him by that name.” Robin shakes her head, disapproving, before turning back to you with a wicked grin. “Word on the street holds Eddie The Munch Munson in very high regard.”

Steve scoffs at this, but you blink, uncomprehending.  “Munch, like… he eats a lot of food?”

You feel very suddenly and violently ganged up on when Steve and Robin give you mirrored quizzical looks.

“No, babe,” Robin says, slowly. “Munch as in he eats pussy.”

“Jesus christ.” Heat courses through you as you scan the empty store, even as Steve chuckles and says, “You really are a prude.”

A skittle sails airborne into the side of his temple and he flinches, Robin coming to your aid. “That’s no way to talk to a lady, Steven.”

“I’m so not a prude.” You’re quick to jump to your own defense. “I just… didn’t know what that meant.”

You’d had a boyfriend for 6 months your sophomore year of high school, Ben- nice enough guy, but you’d mostly dated as an excuse to get all your firsts out of the way. Some laid-back hookups have occurred since then- it’s not like you’ve been chaste all these years, for fuck’s sake.

But you certainly wouldn’t give any of those boys a prize-winning nickname for their ability to eat you out. 

“It’s all baseless gossip, right?” Steve grabs a nearby wheeled cart and pushes it to the New Releases, resuming his shelf stocking. “I mean, what the hell else are small-townies good for other than trading lies like baseball cards.”

“I dunno,” Robin says, thoughtfully, sucking at her front teeth. “If the token lesbian is hearing about it, then he’s gotta be some sort of sex god.”

Steve’s making a snarky comeback, but you can’t hear him over the whistling in your ears.

You stare blankly out at the parking lot, one hand absently crunching at a brochure, trying really hard to think of anything but those plush lips and all the places you want them. 

____

Ever since the events of last year ripped a hole in your found family’s world, you make it a weekly habit to visit Max.

You’re always armed with some excuse- made too much pasta, please take it off my hands and put this tupperware in your fridge; I was on my way to the thrift store and thought I’d stop by, wanna come with and help me pick out some new jeans?- so that it’s harder for Max to deny your company. Slowly, over the last handful of months, by way of secondhand book offerings and slices of leftover pizza, Max has let her guard down enough to let you in. 

Even on days like today, when her demeanor suggests active disdain (calling you “mom” with a caustic bite when you ask after her last meal, rolling her eyes when she finds you doing the leftover sink dishes), you don’t take it personal. Her coldness towards little acts of kindness is due to the shitty way other people have failed her. And plus, you’ve put in enough effort to be able to see the warm side of Max Mayfield.

Like now, for instance- she’s giving you a bone-crushing hug on your way out, freshly-braided hair pressed tight to your sternum as you hug her back and sway in the doorway. The hug is quick and fierce, over in seconds as she slips back into practiced indifference

“Stay out of trouble this week and I’ll buy you a pony,” you joke as she pulls away, and the smile that she cracks makes it all worth it. 

“Make it a racehorse and you’ve got yourself a deal,” she says, giving you a small wave before closing her front door.

You walk down the dirt path to your parked car, keys in hand. Tonight’s schedule is that of a responsible, sensible young adult- the classified ads on your desk at home need trawling through, and a laundry pile the size of Hoosier Hill waits expectantly on your floor.

But there’s this crawling under your skin, a feeling that tends to flare up every so often, a craving for some sort of release gnawing at the edges. Usually the cure is sad music and masturbation, or some of Steve’s parents’ wine and a cheesy romcom. 

Or weed. That tends to work, too.

You’re shoving your keys into the pocket of your denim jacket and walking across the way to Eddie’s trailer before you lose your nerve, scuffing your sneakers against his porch while you knock.

He looks surprised to see you, dark brows raised, leaning into the palm he’s got on the doorframe- “Oh shit. Hi.”

“Hi,” you reply, tracking one foot up the back of your calf, feeling timid under his gaze. “Do you… can I buy some weed?”

When he nods, you duck under his arm and drop to one knee on the carpeted floor to untie your laces.

“Shit, sweetheart, don’t go to all that trouble.” He lets the door close, enveloping you both in the moody lighting of his trailer. There’s a radio playing the local rock station dimly from one of the bedrooms, and as you toe off your shoes you notice a gleaming black guitar leaned upright against the couch.

“Do you play?” You drift over on sock feet to gently brush across the strings, a faint and discordant noise rising and fading underneath your fingertips.

“Yeah.” Eddie’s voice comes from just over your shoulder as he watches your gentle fingers on his prized possession. “I’m in a band, actually. You should come see us play sometime.”

“That’s cool,” you say earnestly. “I remember when you got in trouble for that talent show performance- your band was totally swindled out of first place, if you ask me.”

When he doesn’t respond right away, you hazard a look at him over your shoulder and find him staring at you again, something you’re still not used to, giggling out a little “What?” as his eyes stay on your face.

“You’re pretty, that’s all.” The Dio logo on the front of his tee ripples when he shrugs a shoulder. As if he knew it would embarrass you, he leaves no room for your disagreement, turning away into the kitchen, stretching tall for the metal lunchbox on the top of his fridge.

His shirt lifts with the stretch, a flash of stomach lined with a trail of dark hair that makes you swallow back the gathering saliva in your mouth. 

“So, weed,” he’s saying as he pops the lid on the box, shaking out a small bag of fuzzy-looking green clumps. “I can set you up with a couple of days’ worth, if you want.”

“That sounds good,” you reply, mustering courage to drift to Eddie’s side, pretending to assess the baggie he’s holding, committing to memory the way his long fingers deftly pluck apart bud from stem. “That way I can come back and buy more.”

His fingers pause, halfway to the metal grinder nestled in the lunchbox as he says, “You know, you don’t need to use weed as an excuse to come see me. I think we’ve already established I like lookin’ at ya, so you’d be doing me a favor if you came by more. Just to hang out.”

This offer sits between you as he grinds the weed down, then tips a stripe of it neatly across some rolling paper. His dexterous fingers pinch and tuck until a joint takes shape, a small strip of the paper poking out.

He holds it to your lips, brown eyes shimmering with warmth as he waits. 

A Stevie Nicks song starts up on the radio, muffled by the trailer walls but crooning through all the same. This close to Eddie for the first time, you can smell him- balmy and spicy, like bergamot and Irish Spring. 

You lean into the joint, licking across the paper in one unbroken motion. Your tongue catches on Eddie’s thumb when you pull away, and there’s a salt-warm taste that settles in your mouth.

“Good girl,” he says, in that low-toned voice, and you have to fight to keep your thighs from pressing together in your jeans.

“Wanna smoke here?” Eddie smooths the spit-damp end of the joint down, giving the end a twist. “Good way to test out the merchandise. First one’s free.”

You shake your head as he extends the joint- “I’m definitely paying you, Eddie. And no, I can’t smoke here.” With you being the unspoken addition to that sentence. 

“Aw, shucks, sweetheart,” he drawls, devilish grin creeping back in, “You don’t trust me?”

“It’s not you I don’t trust,” you admit, before you can stop yourself.

His brows shoot up again, then waggle, obscenely. “Afraid I’m gonna be too tempting to resist once you’re in the clutches of the Green Dragon?”

Something like that, you think, wryly, but that fluttering is back and you really want to shut it up, so against your sensible, better judgment, you take the joint from Eddie’s hand.

“Got a light?”

You haven’t smoked in over a month, and with your tolerance so low two hits is all it takes to get you sprawled out on the living room floor, arms akimbo like you’re making a carpet snow angel.

Eddie’s a bit more restless in his high, plucking melodious and listless tunes from the couch with his guitar, one foot propped on the coffee table near your head.

Feeling loose-limbed and confident, you stare unabashed up at Eddie. He’d put his hair into a low bun, earlier, and there are a few dark tendrils swinging free around his neck with the rocking movements of his body to the music. 

He hits a snag, string buzzing out a dissonant noise. “Can’t focus with you lookin’ at me.”

“Sorry,” you murmur, except you’re not at all. “Now you know how I feel all the time.”

He sticks his tongue out at you, your girlish tittering in answer; you pat the carpet beside your hip. “Come lay with me.”

His body responds easily to your request; Eddie props the guitar back up against the couch and stretches out next to you with a sigh, a wave of that smokey sweet smell coming with him.

Under your weed-filtered view, the popcorn ceiling above you is moving, whorling and undulating in the muted light. You’re feeling gutsy and sure of yourself as you ask aloud, “Do you really think I’m pretty?”

Your head turns so you can meet Eddie’s eyes, which are dancing across your face- cheek to lips to nose back up to eyes- and he doesn’t make a joke, this time, his words coming with weighty seriousness.

“Yeah, I do. I think you’re beautiful. Always have.”

“Always?” Your echo is a soft and seeking thing.

“Yeah, always,” he confirms, simply, as if it’s a fact of life. “Woulda made a move sooner, but you always seemed so…”

“Unapproachable? Aloof? Bitchy?” You fill the gap in his speech with adjectives that have been used to characterize you in the past- usually by boys in the heat of an argument over inconsequential things that have been lost to time, only the labels sticking around. 

Eddie gives you a reproachful look. “No. I was gonna say, you seemed like you were always in your own world.”

This throws you for a loop. Neck on a swivel, you look back up at the ceiling as Eddie continues.

“I wanted to get to know you more, but I’ll be the first to admit I was intimidated by you. I mean, you’re way out of my league-” Eddie ignores the sardonic snort you give to this- “-and I just assumed asking you out would've ended with an epic crash and burn.”

The ceiling stops swaying, and you swivel back to hold Eddie’s eyes again, the weed making honesty easy. “I always kinda thought you were beautiful, too.”

Awash with the bravery that only comes from being in an altered state, you keep the momentum that’s aided by Eddie’s soft smile and push up on your elbows. 

“I know what they call you.”

Eddie blinks up at you, then slowly, slowly, pushes himself up onto his elbows too. “Yeah?”

It’s a taunt, a dare, an I bet you won’t.

Shows how much he knows. When you’re drunk or stoned, he’d be hard pressed to find a bet you can’t win.

You say it, unwavering. “Eddie The Munch Munson.”

His lips fall open, leaning in towards you as if drawn by a magnet, and you think he’s gonna kiss you until he falls back against the carpet, scrubbing his hands down his face. “Shit. Fuck. We can’t do this.”

“Why not?” You’re a little taken aback, ‘cuz while it’s not an outright rejection, Eddie’s upping the drama, hands pressed into the sockets of his eyes, groaning as he tips into your side.

With his forehead pressed into the curve of your shoulder, he says softly, “I think we’re both a little too stoned to be thinking clearly. And I really, really want you to think clearly when it comes to this.”

“Comes to what?” You’re egging him on now, trailing your fingers up his bicep, coy and angelic. 

He rolls away from you, making a pained noise with his face smushed into the carpet before pushing himself off the ground. “You know what, princess. New topic, for the love of god. You hungry?”

You are, actually, and when he extends his hand to help you up, you take it.

Eddie whips up a box of mac and cheese while you sit on a counter nearby, conversation engaging and fluid as he cooks.

Between interjections of ‘scuse me, angel, gotta get into this cabinet and can you take over stirring for a sec? you answer all his questions. You tell him your favorite bands, the states you’d visited on a road trip when you were six, even giving him the whole “my mom’s a nice enough person but we don’t get along” spiel that you don’t usually get to until a third date.

If that’s even what this is. He’s scooping steaming noodles into two bowls, passing you one, leaning up against the counter closest to the one you’re sat on. Your knee rubs against his ribcage as you eat.

In between chews, he lets you ask about himself- his favorite bands, the states he’s never been but wants to travel to someday, the highlights of his golden years with his mom that he misses every day.

There’s a quiet lull, after your bowls are scraped clean and set aside. He helps you off the counter and tells you to pick out a movie; you load The Black Cauldron into the VCR and settle into the couch cushion.

Eddie puts an arm around you, lets you play with his hands for the bulk of the film, running your nails methodically across his palms. 

By the last act of the movie, you can feel your high beginning to fade, taking your courage with it; when the credits roll, you’re ready to call it quits and sleep off the hangover in your own bed.

“You sure you’re okay to drive?” Eddie asks, following after you as you tug your sneakers back on in the hall.

“Yeah, Eddie, I’ll be good. Thanks for the weed,” you say, pulling your jacket tight around your frame. “And for the- for everything.”

The smile appears again; the one that cuts deep dimples into his cheeks as he watches you step onto his porch.

When he says your name, you turn, keys in hand- “Yeah?”

Leaning into the doorframe like he had earlier, he cants his head, streetlight a warm glow across his cheeks. “You wanna know where I got my nickname, you come back in a few days. Sleep on it tonight.” And then he closes the door.

___

So, technically, he told you to come back in a few days, and showing up less than 24 hours later has to hint at being some sort of desperate. 

Which, fuck it, you kinda are, at this point. Frankly it’s a miracle you’ve lasted this long what with the whole being plagued with visions of Eddie Munson’s hands and lips and hair and that stupid fucking nickname every waking and dreaming hour you’ve spent apart. 

While you can appreciate the honorable nature of Eddie asking you to make a clear-headed decision, you’re wishing for a hundred things to take the edge off as you change out of the PJ’s you’ve been moping in all day.

Black tights stretch over your calves as you think of the whiskey you mom keeps hidden in the downstairs cabinet; denim miniskirt smoothed over your hips as you long for a deep hit of weed; hands shakily plucking your black tanktop into place as the urge to be anything but sober gets swallowed down. 

You make the ten minute drive to Forest Hills in silence (relative to the weird engine noises your hunk of metal car decides to make), wracking your brain for silver-tongued excuses but instead drawing blank after blank.

By the time you’re rolling to a stop in front of Eddie’s trailer, you still have no idea what you’re gonna say to him- only that something needs to be said. Max is at the Sinclair’s for the night, one less person to worry about witnessing you slamming your car door shut and walking right up to Eddie on his front steps.

He’s wearing a pair of overalls, grease-stained, shirtless underneath- the tail end of a larger ink piece peeking out against his ribs. There’s a lone bike tire on the ground, held steady by the spokes his boot rests on as he wrenches the middle hub, biceps rippling and flexing with each movement. 

Certainly a sight that would have stopped you in your tracks, on any other day. But you’re determined to have it out with the returning wingbeat behind your navel, planting your Converse in the gravel just before the first step that Eddie’s sat on.

He doesn’t seem surprised to see you this time, instead giving you a lazy smile on a half-tilt, wiping the tire oil from his hands onto the front of his overalls.

“What brings a fair maiden such as yourself to this ugly neck of the woods?” Eddie leans the tire up against the steps and rises to greet you.

You’re gonna lose what little nerve you have left if he touches you so you act quick, speaking as you cross your arms- “I need to tell you a few things.”

That stops him up short, just a few feet away as he inclines his head, hair loose around his bare shoulders. “I’m nothin’ but ears.”

A wet, rattling breath catches in your chest. You give a cursory scan around to confirm that the rest of the trailer park citizens are indoors, soft lights from rows of windows luminous against the darkening twilight sky.

“I have a… a thing,” you start, unsure of where to begin, really wishing you’d come up with a polished script on the ride over instead of being forced to flounder through for the right dialogue. “It started last year. With the mall fire?” 

When Eddie nods his understanding, you continue, in short starts and bursts, like you’re fighting with the words before they come out.

“Something… happened. To Robin, and Steve, and to- to me. It was really bad, for awhile, and then it got better, but I’m still…” your hands squeeze tight into the flesh of your upper arms, nails stinging. “I’m fucked up from it. And the only way I can talk about it is if I’m fucked up, too. S’why I can only hold a conversation when I’m drunk or flirt while I’m high, like there’s this bad thing inside of me that I can’t look at when I’m sober-”

There’s a frantic edge that’s slipped in to your voice and Eddie steps towards you, as if to soothe, but you’re not ready to give in yet so you take a step back, choking out the last few words- “I just- I wish I could tell you everything, but I can’t, not yet, and I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”

From somewhere in the forest behind, a bright chorus of crickets swells as you fix your focus on the ground, as Eddie’s boots crunch forward on the gravel, toe-to-toe with your sneakers.

He moves carefully, as if worried that you’ll spook- lightly brushing his fingers across yours, drawing your awareness to the fact that your nails are dangerously close to drawing blood, a sigh as you release.

“Thank you for telling me.” Unlike your own voice, his is low and sure as his thumbs brush against the red half-moons in your arms. “You’re really brave, you know that?”

He doesn’t leave room for you to dispute this, instead tracing the underside of your jaw with his knuckle, forcing you to hold his gaze, those deep brown eyes soft with empathy as he says, “I don’t have any expectations of you, ‘kay? I’ll be all ears when you need me to be, but you don’t have to spill all your secrets every time you come around. You wanna just watch shitty cartoons and keep my couch warm, that’s fine by me. Nothin’ else needs to happen.”

And it’s his acknowledgement of your admission, his softhearted way of letting you know that nothing needs to happen, that makes you brave.

Brave enough to tilt your chin into the lift of his finger as you say, “I didn’t just come here to apologize.”

You watch his Adam’s apple bob against the taut vein in his neck as he swallows, hard. 

“Yeah?”

When you nod, Eddie blows out a breath and turns on his heel, motioning you to follow him up the stairs. 

Your eagerness is obvious as you scramble up the steps after him, heart starting to thrum in tandem with the flutters as he shuts his front door behind the both of you.

“Take your shoes off,” is all he says, in a low, strained voice, before turning into the kitchen.

Obedient, you drop to one knee and jerk apart your sneaker laces with trembling hands. 

Now on nyloned feet, you step onto the linoleum tile of Eddie’s kitchen. He’s faced away from you at the sink, taut lines of his shoulders rising and falling as he washes his hands.

“You’re sober?” He asks, still at the sink, drying his hands on a patterned teatowel. 

When you realize he can’t see your nod, you speak- “Yes. Yeah. As a judge.”

A soft exhale through his nose, amused, as he finally turns to face you. Eddie’s eyes do that hypnotizing dance- skipping from your chin to your eyes to your lips back up again- and you let him, feeling exposed to the point of nakedness with the intensity of his focus.

“I want to hear you say it.”

The sentence winds through the air, joins the wings in your stomach, sits low in your belly as you shift your weight from side to side, a gentle rock to ease your flayed-alive nerves. 

You say it. “I want your mouth.”

Eddie takes a step closer, nearly toe-to-toe with you again. Over the familiar layer of bergamot and fresh hand soap he smells like the outdoors, and faintly of mechanic oil, hearty and wild.

“Where?” It’s a single word, but with so much weight- suggestive, a taunt, an offer.

You breathe him in, eyes fluttering closed, ‘cuz brave as you’ve been it’s still hard to say some things while looking at him. “Want your mouth… on me.”

He crowds into your space, one hand gliding smoothly to set against your waist, the other fitted against your neck, tapping a thumb to your lips.

You part them, passive and wanting, but he doesn’t press his finger to the pad of your tongue like you’d hoped. Instead, he lets his thumb stroke to the corner of your mouth to make room for his own. 

“Where?” he asks again, this time into your mouth. You can feel the tip of his nose graze yours, pinpricks of his hair tickling your cheeks. 

“Please,” is all you manage this time, awash with heat when you feel his smile form. 

“S’okay, sweetheart. I’ll work you up to it.” It’s a touch condescending, skirting that fine line between tease and mean, the same tone of voice that has your thighs pressing together.

And then, he gives you what you asked for. His plush lips- the ones that you’ve been fantasizing about for what feels like eons- are pressing against yours.

It’s a kiss that starts chaste, tender, but soon devolves into a heady, fevered thing when you push your tongue past the seam of his lips. He melts into you, using the hand he has on your face to keep you steady as he sucks your bottom lip into his mouth, grazing his teeth into the plush of it before going back to twining his tongue with yours. 

There’s an audible wet click as he pulls away, both of your chests heaving in the quiet that follows; Eddie rests his forehead against yours briefly to catch his breath, and then he’s tugging you down the hall and into his room.

It’s pleasantly messy and lived-in, posters and photographs taking up most of the walls, guitar cables snaking and criss-crossing atop his dresser. You take a seat on the bed, hands tightening into the flannel duvet while Eddie begins to undo the buttons of his overall straps.

Wholly fascinated, you watch as he pushes the thick material from his body and kicks it to the side, leaving him in just his guitar pick necklace and a simple pair of black boxers. Now on full display, you drink in the sight of the most skin you’ve ever seen of his- tattoos at his chest and arms dark against the rest of him, pale and gleaming softly in the yellow light of the bedside lamp. 

You’re trying to figure out if the larger piece on his ribs is a dragon or some other mythological creature when he moves in to sit next to you, his kisses erasing all thoughts.

Eddie’s making these throaty little noises as you kiss; his hands track lines from your hips to your sides to your shoulders, your chest unconsciously pressing into his touch. 

When his thumb catches on the outline of your beaded nipple through your shirt, he hisses lightly, drawing back to look at you again- “Is this okay?”

You nod, but he doesn’t seem satisfied with that, tsking as he swipes with his thumb again, watching closely as you react silently to the touch.

“Hard to tell when you’re enjoying yourself if you’re quiet as a churchmouse,” Eddie says, in a tone that’s reminiscent of training a pet. “You gonna let me hear you?”

Your teeth catch on your lower lip as he thumbs across your nipple again, shockwaves coursing into goosebumps as you choke out, “I’m not s-so good at that. Not without- fuck- weed..”

Eddie huffs a laugh, a little derisive but you figure he’s probably got the right, seeing as how you’re this worked up and he’s barely touched you.

“You’re plenty good at this sober, sweetheart. Want me to prove it?”

His hand falls from your breast, extricates one of yours from the covers, and slides it up the meat of his thigh- then to the front of his boxers.

The first noise you make for him is a small gasp, one that matches his own as you cup your palm over the thick jut of his hard cock.

“Told you,” he says, sounding strung-out, his hand still closed around your wrist, “You’re doin’ just fine at working me up.”

You wrap your fingers around the bulge as best you can with the fabric of his boxers separating skin from skin, gaining confidence to explore as his grip on your wrist loosens. The black ink at his ribs expands and shrinks with the bellows of his breath, jolting and stuttering with each stroke of your hand.

Just as he’s drawing in a breath to speak, tightening his hold around your wrist in warning, you still your movements. Delicately, slowly, you slide out of his grasp and take his wrist in your hand, placing his palm on your own thigh.

The whole “reciprocating pleasure with sound” is still a hard one to give in to; maybe you can compensate for your hesitancy by showing instead of telling. You guide his hand up, into your skirt, parting your thighs until his fingers find the wetness soaking through both your panties and tights. 

“Fucking… jesus.” Eddie moves with the fluid surety that you lack, middle finger running up the seam of your clothed pussy, your hips jerking reflexively when he catches against your clit. “This all for me, princess?”

In answer, you lean to bury your face into the crook of Eddie’s neck. He lets you, taking the opportunity to hook your leg over his thigh, spreading you out as much as your fitted denim skirt will allow.

You pant into the column of his throat as he strokes you through the light layers, the fabrics grinding friction into your clit caught under his fingertip. He rests his chin on the crown of your head, cooing praises that have your stomach muscles tensing.

“That’s it, good girl, such a good girl for me.”

Your clit is throbbing now as he rubs you in small, quick circles, and you’re so close to falling over the edge that you have to pull his hand away.

Eddie picks up on your unspoken plea; he tugs the skirt down your hips then tosses it blindly over his shoulder, reaching for the edge of your tights. He slips them down your thighs, your calves, peeling them off you with reverence. When all that’s left is your best pair of satin panties, he maneuvers you up against the headboard and stretches himself flat on his stomach, nose pressing into your core.

That heat has come back, flashing through you with a vengeance as Eddie mouths at your pussy through the satin, sloppily but with purpose enough to have your cunt clenching around nothing.

You stay up on your elbows, watching that mane of dark hair bracketed by your thighs, but when Eddie pulls your underwear down and off your ankle your weight falls back against the mattress.

The flat of his tongue licks a wide stripe from your weeping hole up to spread the wetness around your clit. When he sucks the bundle of nerves into his mouth, your head presses back into the covers, hands grappling above you for something to anchor your grasp.

When Eddie flicks the point of his tongue against that bright spot of nerves your hands find a pillow to grip, and when he moans into your pussy the vibrations have you instinctively pulling the pillow against your face, teeth biting into the fluff, masking the whine that would have been loud in the otherwise quiet room.

You think you might be able to get away with this setup (what with Eddie seemingly focused on making you explode into a million little pieces) but there’s a sharp smack before the outer skin of your thigh is burning, white-hot from the kiss of his rings.

Eddie’s mouth leaves you only for the time it takes for him to rip the pillow from your grasp and scold, “Uh uh, none of that, c’mon,” and then he’s back at your clit, suckling with renewed vengeance.

There are little stars bursting at the edges of your vision, your hands shooting down to grip at Eddie’s hair when he pistons the point of his tongue against you again. Your hips are subtly bucking into his mouth, shaking thighs involuntarily closing around his ears. Normally you’d be concerned about Eddie’s air intake but going off the moans he’s burying in your pussy, you’d hazard a guess that he’s really into it.

As if in confirmation, he pulls off your clit with a wet pop, laving his tongue up the junction where thigh meets pelvis, voice sounding wrecked- “Doin’ so good, sweetheart. Fuck, you got me so hard. Gonna blow a load in my boxers like a teenager, y’taste so good. Gonna let me hear you? Hm? Wanna hear you.”

You’re dizzy with want as you prop yourself on your elbows again, mouth falling open as Eddie sinks two of his fingers up to the ringed knuckle inside your velvet walls.

His other hand comes to rest on the soft curve of your stomach, pinning you in place, before he looks up at you, black pupils nearly eclipsing the chocolate brown. 

“What do you want?” he asks again, patiently, as if he doesn’t have two fingers nestled inside your cunt.

Your efforts to grind into him are stopped with his firm hold on your middle, and he tuts at you again- but instead of a reprimand, he seems to soften a bit.

“C’mon, angel,” Eddie says, with such tenderness that makes tears prick at the corner of your eyes. He presses his lips to the inside of your thigh before encouraging, “Lemme hear you say it, and I’ll make it so good for you. Promise.”

“Want you to make me come. Please.” Your voice is unsteady, but it’s audible enough.

Eddie rewards you by sinking his fingers further, to the hilt, heel of his palm catching against your clit. When you let out a warbling moan, he nods- “That’s it,”- before setting a steady rhythm for fucking his fingers up into you. 

“Fuck, Eddie- fu-uck…” you’re trying, really trying to stay in the moment and not get caught up in the noises you’re making- for him. 

When Eddie reattaches his mouth to your throbbing clit and angles his fingers to hit into that soft, spongy spot with each thrust, you feel waves of pleasure start to wash through you. There’s just time for a choked “Shit, Eddie, you’re gonna make me cum,” before you’re spasming around his fingers.

Somehow, you manage to stay on your elbows, bracing your body through the convulsive shocks, white-hot stars joining the wingbeat rhythm as Eddie takes you apart with his mouth and fingers.

He moans, long and low, fucking you through it and then some- your orgasm has been completely wrung out when you push at his forehead, whimpering at the overstimulation. 

“No, baby, one more, please. Gimme one more,” Eddie lifts his head to plead with you, sweaty bangs glued to his forehead- and then he’s back between your legs.

It’s this moment that makes you retrospective. Sex with boys, in the past, has always been a quick means to an end: a few minutes of foreplay, tamping down your own pleasure for the sake of blowing off some steam. 

But now, pleasure was being given to you in spades by Eddie Munson, and you wanted to give it back to him.

You come on his tongue and fingers, again, stomach tightening beneath his warm palm, and this time you really loose the sounds caught in your chest: a strangled mix of your bliss-soaked whines with his name, Eddie Eddie Eddie. 

You feel the bed frame jolt below you both as Eddie’s hips thrust into the mattress in a frenzied tempo.

“Fuck me.” He pulls away, finally, panting into the side of your knee. He rests his head against your leg, lips tinged pink and shining wet, gazing at you with lust-blown eyes. “You are so fucking hot. Holy shit.”

Bashful as your peak wears off, you pull him forward so you don’t have to look at him when you whisper, “Yeah?”

“Yeah, princess,” he says, slumping against your chest and into your arms. “That’s going straight to my long-term spank bank. Number one. For sure.”

You slap playfully at his shoulder, and he rises on his elbows to kiss you- once on the lips, twice on the cheek- warm palms on the outside of your shoulders. 

“Are you… d’you need any help?” you ask, reaching to tuck his hair behind his ears, feeling the crush of insecurity leech in. “I dunno if you even- I mean, did you…”

From all the physical activity, your breasts are half-spilled out of your bra, and Eddie bends to kiss at the tops of them, affectionately, shaking his head as he goes. “There is no world in which I would’ve lasted, just now. Very noble of you to assume, though.”

He grins at your giggle, then says- “I dunno about you, but I need some new underwear. Wanna borrow a pair of my boxers? Bet you’d look cute.”

________

Later, when you’re both cleaned up, dressed, and full from a pizza delivery, Eddie invites you outside for a smoke.

You sit with him on the porch couch, legs slung over his, a big flannel blanket shared over both your laps while he smokes with the hand that isn’t on your thigh. 

There’s a crunching of wheels on gravel, and Max Mayfield’s bike lamp cuts through the dark.

“Hey, Heavy Metal,” she calls out, undoing her bike helmet and leaning her bike into its kickstand. “Are you done fixing up Lucas’s tires or do I have to keep hauling my ass all the way across town to see him?”

“I’ll have it done tomorrow, Red,” Eddie calls back, giving her a salute.

Halfway to her door, she remarks, “You two are gross, by the way,” 

You cross your arms in the sweatshirt Eddie loaned you, slipping into irksome older sister mode easily. “So how’d it go with your boyfriend, tonight, Maxine?”

She flips you both off, but you catch the smile on her face before the front door bangs shut behind her.

Eddie chuckles, smoothing his palm up your thigh, then takes another drag. “You gotta come night smoke with me more often, angel. The streetlights suit you.”

“Gonna get me hooked on nicotine, too?” Your sock foot pokes him in the ribs and he tuts, snapping it up in his free hand and digging his thumb into the arch of your sole.

“Fuck no, your teeth are too pretty to ruin. Want you to come keep me company while I destroy my lungs.”

Another cloud of smoke lifts dreamily around Eddie’s face. His thumb is working wonders on the tense muscle of your foot as you tip your head to rest on the back of the couch. With the nearby streetlamp, his profile is cast in a warm glow; you do a dance of your own, eyes taking in the strong slope of his nose, tracking down to his lips, back up to the wild curls at his temple.

Eddie feels you staring, turns to fix you with a quit it look that you can’t help but laugh at- “What, so you’re the only one who’s allowed to stare?”

“That’s right,” he confirms, leaning forward to set his cig in an ashtray, bullying his way into your space, rings cold under your chin when he tilts your face towards his- “Gotta pay the piper for that obvious violation, sweetheart. Sorry. I don’t make the rules.”

This time, when the flutter within you kicks up, you have a place for it to go- melting softly into Eddie’s lips. 

___________________

I wrote the last third of this while blasted please don’t judge too harshly lmao

[ilovetoxicfictionalmen]

GRADUATION GIFT

Pairing - Lenny Miller x fem!reader

Summary - You despise your mother and are awaiting the day you can finally be free from her. However, she’s met her so called soulmate who can’t seem to take his eyes off of you.

Warnings - noncon, implying of drugging, brief infidelity, p in v, parental issues, spanking, daddy kink, breeding kink.

Word count - 2k+

Notes - On a roll right now. Definitely wrote this during the course of 6 alcoholic beverages so I apologise.

The Honda Civic rolled up your driveway, you breathed out, your head swayed gently, bloodstream full of alcohol. There was no other way to celebrate graduating high school than by getting plastered at a house party. Despite your intoxicated state, you couldn’t help but to dread the sight of your home. You should have left early with your friends and crashed at theirs.

Only a couple of more months. Until you’re free from your egocentric, victimizing, alcoholic mother. The woman you despise, the creature that drove your father away from your life. You hated her more than everything. She had cheated on your dad for years and when he finally broke she blamed him for everything. 

He fell in love with another and got her pregnant. Your father chose them over you and your overbearing mother. The sad reality was that you couldn’t blame him. But you’ll never understand why he didn’t take you with him. 

You stumbled inside, not really caring if your ruckus woke anyone up. A fresh bottle of water was pulled from the fridge as you sculled down as much as your stomach would allow you. As you walked back into the hallway, your direction pointed to the staircase, you heard a clear of the throat. 

When your eyes landed on him, you lightly gasped. He sat on the cream chesterfield armchair, his legs spread wide open. Minus the jacket, he was still in his suit from yesterday. It was past two in the morning, why the fuck was your so-called step-dad awake? Those blue orbs stared your exposed skin up and down as his hand combed through his wavy brunette hair. You tugged down at your mini dress to cover yourself, but it was pointless. 

Behind his charm, Lenny was creepy. You had picked up on that instantly by the way he stared at you when you accidentally opened the door for him. It was their first date and your mother had plenty of those. However, he couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of you, even when your mother rushed to the door. 

When your mother announced they were going on a second date, you were surprised. Now those, she didn’t have many of. The shocked expression that plastered your face was unhideable when she announced that they were officially together. She even had the audacity to tell you to call him dad. Because he would like that. 

You fell victim to his lingering eyes during all of your brief encounters. There weren't enough excuses to get out of the house whenever he was over. Lenny spoke to you confidently and condescendingly. To which he didn’t fail to drop a carnal comment in each conversation which went unnoticed by your mother if she was in attendance. 

You felt like your mother, making it all about yourself. But you wouldn’t dare to say anything, what else would it be besides you trying to pray horrible things upon her. They were perfect for each other, they were both fucked and the sooner you were out the better.

“Lenny, you’re up late” you shuddered, standing awkwardly as his hawk eyes stalked you. 

There was a glass of whiskey in his hand as he swayed the liquid carelessly. You focused your sight on the glass, waiting for it to spill onto the carpet. 

“You had upset your mother extremely” he said, his tone dripping of disappointment. 

The moment in discussion was earlier yesterday during your graduation ceremony. She didn’t even want to be in attendance. But Lenny convinced her otherwise to go, with him accompanying her to the event, she was already a few mimosas in despite it being a midday ceremony. Afterwards, she didn’t suggest, she ordered that you’d go out for a family dinner to celebrate. 

When you stated that you had other plans, it ended up being a cat fight on the ride home between you and your mother. You didn’t notice Lenny’s knuckles turn white around the steering wheel as he stayed quiet between your shouting match. 

“Well, it’s my life” you shrugged your shoulders at him. 

Who did he think he was anyways? You didn’t give a fuck that he was a retired CIA agent. If anything, he should fucking arrest your mum for being a failure in life. 

Lenny didn’t take his eyes off of you as he finished his drink. He breathed in, dramatically raising his chest as he stood up. Your throat tightened as he stepped towards you, you stepped back just as quick.  

“Well” he mocked your tone. “You know what I think?” He asked, his jaw clenched. 

“What?” you squeaked as he placed the tumbler on the coffee table and headed straight towards you. 

Your body pressed back into the plaster wall as he trapped you in with both forearms resting on the wall right next to either side of your face. He breathed deeply as he considered his choice of words. 

“I think your father failed at discipling you as a child. Left you to be nothing more than a fucking brat leeching off of her mother’s funds” he hissed, his lower body flexed up against yours. 

Your eyes widened at his words, the fire inside of you was brewing however you couldn’t help but to be intensely frightened by this new, menacing side of him. There were little options that would end up in your benefit. “Mum!” you panicked, sure she was a drunk but her self-importance would never fucking allow this. 

Lenny pouted to you sarcastically as you stood frozen, his lips slowly crept to your ear. “Oh, your mother was a crying mess. I had to give her something to help her sleep, she was so overwhelmed. I promised her I’d wait up for you, to make sure you got home safe. Even told her I’d try to talk some sense into you. But between me and you? Sometimes talking doesn’t work, other methods have to be used” he ended up whispering, slowly, suspensefully, seductively. 

Your hands shot up to his chest as you tried to push him away. “What the fuck are you going on about” you whimpered pathetically, desperately trying to push him away but he wouldn’t budge. 

Lenny looked you dead in the eye. “Daddy needs to teach his baby girl a lesson” he stated with a confident nod. 

“Mum!” you shrieked, your voice cracking in the process. You were freaking the hell out by this point as his hands moved down to grip onto your hips. 

“It’s pointless, she’ll be out all night. But don’t let that stop you from screaming” he grinned as he yanked you away from the wall by your hips. 

The first instinct was to run, but Lenny reacted quickly, his hand wrapped around your hair as he yanked you towards the chesterfield armchair. You sobbed out as he post-hasted you over his knee with him sitting comfortably on the seat. 

“You’re such a bad girl. I noticed that the moment I saw you” he brought to light, this wicked smirk on his lips as he pulled up your dress, exposing your bare ass. His fingers traced over your cheap thong as you were whining against him, your body squirming around like a worm. “However, your mother outta be more thankful of you” he voiced, which caused your eyebrows to scrunch. “I never intended on a second date until I saw you” his confession caused you to sob heavily. 

It was true, your mother was just going to be a easy fuck. But when he saw you, he knew that he had to have you. From there, his obsession only grew larger by each encounter. You didn’t know how badly he wanted you, needed you. Your bratty behavior only urged his primal needs harder. Your parents failed to control you, only he would be able to put you back in order. 

“Lenny- Please!” you squealed out as he harshly smacked your rear. 

“Correct my title” he ordered through a snarl.

“Daddy please!” You cried out, completely humiliated as you laid limply over his knee. 

“Good girl” he praised as he smacked you again. 

Over and over again he spanked you, you’d squirm here and there as you tried to take it like a good girl. Mentally, you were begging for it to be over and done with. The sooner it was done, the quicker you’d be able to pack up and run for the hills. 

“I’ve wanted to teach you your place for so long” he groaned, his cock twitching at the redness of your cheeks. You sobbed silently as he admired you. “You know” he spoke softly as his hand gently caressed your burning skin. “Your mother told me how you always blamed her. But in reality, if your father wanted to take you with him, he would have. But clearly you were as much of a burden to him as your mother was” Lenny asserted emotionlessly. He knew nothing.  

You thrashed your body underneath his hold. Lenny laughed as you were blubbering out, desperately trying to break free. He forcefully spanked you again to put your distraught movements to a stop. 

“Don’t worry, daddy wants to take care of you” he promised you condescendingly as he pulled your body up onto his.  

Your arms wrapped around his neck as you shuddered. The tent in his pants pressed up against your covered core and your skin trembled. Lenny kissed your flustered cheek, and then the other. The way he was praising your beauty made you feel sick to your stomach. Your stomach turned when you felt his body shift underneath you as his hands undid his belt. 

“I’ve seen the way you look at me, you want this” he groaned as he stroked his hard length, the tip poking at your hidden pussy. 

You mewled in response, there was no point in arguing with this barbarian. His fingers pushed your thong to the side to allow his tip to rest at your entrance. The irony was how dripping your cunt was despite how terrified you were. 

As his thick cock slowly slid inside of your canal, he grunted at the sensation of you. You whined against his size as you pressed your face into the fabric of the chair. Roughly, Lenny picked up his pace, his fingertips dug deep into the flesh of your thighs. 

“So, you wanna run off to college huh? Leave your mother’s home childless?” Lenny gritted his teeth. 

“Yes daddy” you confessed shamefully. 

Lenny grinned at your easy submission. His hands felt up your skin that he had so desperately wanted. You were moaning around his size, your eyes squeezed shut to hide how they were rolling back. 

“You know, I never gave you your graduation present” Lenny smiled innocently. You didn’t know how to take it. “Oh how it would be a shame if her whore of a daughter got herself pregnant” he grunted, roughly holding your hips in place. The realization flashed before your eyes as you tried to push yourself off of him, but he kept you locked up on top of him. 

“Daddy, no! Please!” You begged, crying like a baby on top of him as he continued to pound his length deep inside of you. 

“Yep, a shame it would be. She’d have to stay home. Depend on her new daddy to look after her” he concluded the thought that would soon become your reality. 

“Daddy please no, no, no” you continued, but it was all pointless. Lenny had already made up his mind long ago. Lenny gripped onto your cheeks and forced you to look at him. 

“Yeah. Gonna fill you up, trap you with my child. Couldn’t fuck a baby into your mother even if I wanted to. You’re at the perfect age for breeding. Got the perfect body and what not. It won’t be hard to convince your mum that you’re just a fucking slut like she is” Lenny smiled to you, his sinsiter expression made him look like a complete different man.  “Don’t worry, she won’t stay in the picture for much longer” he consoled, continuing to smack his balls against your outer skin as you felt your orgasm build up rapidly.  

But she was the least of your concerns now.

[nthspecialll]

I think we sometimes as a fandom tend to hyper-focus on certian characters' backgrounds simply because we like the character when in reality other characters who might not be as interesting has way better backstories, because no, Javier, Arthur and John are not the only ones with sad backstories

Like why does no one talk about what happened to Leopold's sister? Why does no one talk about young Lenny tracking down and killing folk? Why does no one talk about Javier actually in a way working for the government for a while and the reason why he killed that powerful military man? Why does no one talk about why Dutch is called Dutch and not by his actual first name? Why does no one talk about Bill's worst childhood fear coming true? Why does no one talk about both Swanson and Micah saving Dutch's life or that Tilly is also a murderer?

Anyways here is a full explanation of all the Van Der Linde gang members backstories.

Sean MacQuire

Sean Macquire and his father lived in Ireland possibly with more family but had to flee because the English (who were at the time in charge of ireland) were chasing them. They fled for their lives and they were in Boston for a month before his dad was shot in his sleep, showing the remaining Sean that there was truly no honor or shame in the world.

He was then sent to a reform school, which we all know was abusive and a living hell, so he ran, living as a low-life thief, he was a teenager, when he in a bar somewhere in North Elizabeth saw Dutch and Hosea and liked Dutch's watch. He followed the two into an alleyway and threatened them at gunpoint, however they laughed at him and told him to shoot, so he did, except the two others had noticed him first and took the bullets from his gun. Sean started crying, thinking they were going to kill him but instead of doing that they gave him a home, a place to belong.

Lenny Summers

Lenny's grandparents as well as parents were slaves and his mother was born on a cotton field and taken away from his grandmother, who hadn't even known she was pregnant, immediately. His grandmother was then told to simply get back to work.

After the civil war, the old overseer kept making advandages towards Lenny's grandmother, to a point that in the end she needed to kill him and just barely escaped being lynched. Lenny's mother never saw the grandmother again.

Lenny's mother later met Mr Summers who was an educated man and taught Lenny to both read and write, however wehn Lenny was 15, his dad was beaten to death by several drunk men. Lenny stole a gun, tracked and hunted down the men, shooting them and showing no remorse even years later.

Kieran Duffy

Kieran Duffy's father was an Irishman who came to America with a dream of farming. It was there that he met Kieran's mother and not long after having Kieran, they both passed due to Cholera and not shortly after that the stables that he worked at to support himself threw him out. He decided to join the army to support himself but it didn't last long before he quit due to it "not working out well."

After returning from the army, he fell into work with a bunch of unnamed outlaws, though they all passed away, leaving him alone once again.

At some point he ran into the O'Driscolls who gave him a choice, to ride with them or to get killed, esencially forcing him to join them and work as a stable hand for them, though he was at the bottom of the latter simply working with the horses before being kidnapped by Arthur Morgan and joining the Van Der Linde gang.

Leopold Strauss

Leopold Strauss was born into severe poverty in Austria and his family struggled heavily with food. By the time that Strauss was only twelve, his older brother was beating up nightwatch men for whatever cash and food scraps they had on them. By that time Strauss's father had already sold his younger sister Anna, by the age of nine, into bonded labour to be able to provide for the rest of the family.

When Stauss was seventeen he was sent with his uncle to the US due to health problems, however the hellish sight of Brooklyn gave Strauss's uncle a heart attack on the spot, leaving Strauss alone in a forgein country. To survive he began doing illegal money scams and after doing so for years Dutch picked him up.

Tilly Jackson

Tilly Jackson was the daughter of a slave and became an outlaw by the mere age of twelve, running with a gang called the Foreman brothers who kidnapped her but after murdering the leaders cousin after he made advandages on her, she had to flee. She returned to her mothers workplace but found that she had already passed.

Later Tilly ran into Dutch Van Der Linde and as he was already taking care of John Marston and Arthur Morgan, he took her in, becoming just as much as a father figure to her as to the boys.

Micah Bell

Micah Bell was born directly into a life of crime as his father Micah Bell jr was a petty but ruthless and violent outlaw. Already when Micah was 17 him and his father were on run from the law as they had slid Jean and Roscoe Briggs throats and later hung them as well. His father was also his primary partner in crime, however he also seemed to have teamed up with his brother Amos a few times as well, however Amos regretted his past life and started a proper one with wife and children and threatened to kill Micah if he came close.

Micah had several partners in crime later in life, including Joe and Cleet who appears later in the game, as well as a fellow named Norman.

Micah runs into Dutch Van Der Linde in 1898 in a bar as Dutch is trying to sell some stolen goods, however the deal doesn’t work out and Micah steps in to help Dutch and save his life, earning a place in the gang.

Bill Williamson

Bill Williamson, also known as Marion Williamson, was born into an abusive family with a father who lost his mind to alchohol, even going to the point of mixing moonshine with whiskey. Watching this Bill always feared falling in love with liquor and suffering the same fate.

Bill always showed signs of being more of a troubled kid and being sent to a reform school did not stop him from building s solid criminal record as a kid.

Bill would later apply to the military and serve in the 15th infantry, fighting against the native americans before being dishonorably discharged for deviancy and attempted murder in 1892. For a year after he lived rough, truly falling in love with liqour and stealing from people om the side of the roads, one time being robbed himself by a "woman" (likely a cross dresser or genderqueer person).

In 1893 Bill tried to rob Dutch and got angry as the man simply laughed at him, however he calmed down as he was allowed a spot in the Van Der Linde gang.

Daniel "Dutch" Van Der Linde

Dutch's mother was an english woman named Greta and his father a dutch man who lived somewhere near Philadelphia who fought in the civil war and died, which is why Dutch hated southeners.

Dutch's nickname rumors to come from his father's desperate attempt at keeping touch with his ancerstory.

When he was 15, he left home due to troubles with his mother whom he never got along with and simply saw him as a disobedient and troubled kid. He wished for freedom above all so to gain this he started a life of crime and in mid 1870 met Hosea Matthews.

Hosea Matthews

Hosea was born in around 1844 and lived the majority of his earlier life in the mountians, growing to love fishing and hunting. His father was mostly absent, living a life of "sin and debauchery that would make an emperor blush." Hosea saw his dad only about three times in his life but loved him none the less.

He tried to make his way with comedy as a stage actor, however he turned to petty thieft, stealing from his audience and later others in town. He was caught by the sheif stealing a chicken and sentenced to be hanged. Luckiy for Hosea the town folk saw it as a punishment too cruel and a riot broke out which ended with someone shooting the noose around Hosea's neck, allowing him to flee.

Mid 1870 Hosea found Dutch sitting by a campfire and decided to rob him, however found that Dutch had already robbed him. Hosea feared for a moment for his life but it ended with the two of them laughing it off and teaming up.

Molly O'Shea

Molly O'Shea was born into a wealthy Irish family, set up to live a proper and educated life, however she quickly got bored and showed little interest in the life set up for her, so she ran off to America in search of adventure and excitment. At some point she ran into Dutch Van Der Linde and found an interest in him and his life style, only to later genuiently fall in love with him.

Arthur Morgan

Arthur Morgan was born to Beatrice and Lyle Morgan in northen US. His mother died in his early life and he never really got along with his father whom there are rumors was abusive. Lyle lived a life of petty crime and was arrested and executed. Arthur saw his father die and although not having the best relationship, Arthur kept his father's hat and picture.

In 1877 Arthur was 14 and a wild delinquent. He ran into Dutch and Hosea, being picked up and taken under their wing, taught not only the ways of crime but also skills like reading, writing, hunting and so on.

Uncle

Uncle was born in Ohio (insert Penelope Braithwaithe shutter) with the only family present being his parents who died when he was nine and an "uncle" named Jeb whom Uncle hints at being a pedofile.

After his parents death he was on his own and was forced to a new city where he had to care for himself, and from that time to the game start in 1899, we know he has been married at least twice.

Uncle tells many stories of his past such as going to Africa and being worthshipped like a god by the locals, however the truth of these stories are highly doubted due to his tendency to lie. He does tell stories of being a "one shot kid" in his younger days, the truth of these also being doubted, however it may have been his tricket into the Van Der Linde gang.

Susan Grimsaw

Along with Hosea, Dutch and Arthur Susan was one of the founding memebers of the Van Der Linde gang, having run into Dutch during a poker game where both he and she found interest in one another, causing the curious couple and their unruly son to stay in the area a bit longer, paying poker long into the night while Susan sat on Dutch's lap.

Having gotten into a romantic relationship with Dutch, Susan was allowed to join the small group and even stayed when Dutch moved on to Annabelle, now serving as a form of housemother, making sure that people did their work, took properly care of themselves and made camp feel like home.

You can also hear Susan talking to Mary-Beth one time in camp, admitting that she had a fiance once however he went to heaven.

John Marston

John Marston was born in 1873 to an illiterate scottish father born on the boat to New York and a prositute mother who died during his birth. At first John lived with his father who constantly spoke of Scotland and his love for the country, however he was blinded in a bar fight south of Chicargo and later died when John was eight. The true cause of his father's death is unknown however John was told it was a barfight.

John spent a few years in an orphanage before running off and living on his own, at the mere age of eleven commiting his first murder by shooting a man, though he claims it was not his fault.

At the age of twelve John had been caught stealing from homesteaders who planned to have him hanged, however Dutch stepped in and took him under his wing.

Orville Swanson

Swanson used to wrok as a Clergyman but after indulging in the "earthly pleasures", being seduced by alchohol and sex, he lost his family, job and in the end faith, though he desperately tried to regain it.

At some point or another he fell in love with a woman named Margaret, though she was already married, so he simply added bigamy to the list of sins he had already commited. When the two of them were in San Fransisco, the law finally caught up wth them and while she fled onto a ship headed for Shanghai he was stuck and never saw her again.

Under unknown circomstances Swanson came to save Dutch's life and due to Dutch's debt to Swanson he was allowed to join the gang.

Mary-Beth Gaskill

Being a woman of good nature, Mary-Beth did not struggle getting close to her victims after having found herself needing to find a living in the streets. Due to her looks and personality she could with ease fool the richer men into thinking they were saving a poor maiden in need while her fingers slipped into their pockets.

It was through this that Mary-Beth got in trouble with not just the law but her victims as well. One night she had gotten a few foul men on her tail that she ran into the Van Der Linde gang who saved her and asked her to join them.

Charles Smith

Charles Smith was born to a Native Mother and a free African American father, all three of them living fairly happily with his mothets tripe together with a few other free men before the US army chased them away.

They continued to live together but a few years later Charles' mother was captured by the army, leading Charles' father to fall into alcoholism and a deep depression.

At the mere age of 13 Charles left his father and began to live on his own, becoming a supreme survivalist from an early age.

Some point during the late 1898 ran into the Van Der Linde gang in the Grizzlies and joined them.

Simon Pearson

Simon Pearson's family were whale hunters and although Pearson wished to follow in their footsteps it did not go that way due to the whale industry having lessened by the time that he got out of school. Having been forced to look for new employment options, Pearson joins the Navy where he even managed to get stranded for fifty days on a ship filled with plauge, watching his friends and coworkers slowly drop one by one.

After having returned from the Navy Pearson begins to struggle financially and takes a loan, however unable to pay it off loansharks comes after him and it is during one of these attempts at getting to Pearson that the Van Der Linde gang saves him and brings him to camp as a cook.

Abigail Marston

Abigail Marston, originally born Abigail Roberts, was orphaned at a young age and started roaming around bars, scraping whatever few coins she could take from folk before starting a work of prostitution, making an earning by selling her body and at some point running into Uncle at a bar who introduced her to the gang.

Now living with the gang, Abigail still worked as a prositute up until falling pregnant with Jack Marston by John Marston.

Josiah Trelawny

Josiah Trelawny was born in England though he has no memories of his life there, he later imigated to America where he starts working as a conman and trickster. It was during this line of work that he met yhe Van Der Linde gang and joined them bur with a special advandage as he, unlike the others, was allowed to appear and disappear as he pleased, always knowing when Dutch planned to cut him off and return with a big hit.

Josiah has a family living in Saint Denis concisting of a wife and two sons named Tarquin and Cornelius. Just as with the gang, he would disappear on them for months.

Karen Jones

Karen Jones lived as a scam artist in her early years and absolutely loved the outlaw lifestyle and hoped for a bit more which partly drove her to accept the Van Der Linde gang's invitation, hoping to achieve more.

Javier Escuella

Javier Escuella was born in Mexico to a drunkard father who worked for Allende' (a main antagonist in rdr1, a military man) uncle. When he was young he saw his own uncle as well as four other separate men get casterated and fed to pigs for simply suggesting fair wages for their work.

Javier moved on to become a violent and known bounty hunter and revolutionary, fighting against what he saw as a corupt system.

Javier ended up killing a powerful former military man for a woman that he loved, fearing for his loved ones life he fled to America where he knew no english and had no work or food, leaving him starving.

It was in America that he ran into Dutch as they both were trying to steal the same chickens. Dutch took Javier in, fed him, gave him a family and a life, leading Javuer to idiolize Dutch also for his revolutionary ideals.

At some unknown point someone attempted to kill Javier, leading to him having a prominent scar on his throat.

Sadie Alder

Sadie Alder grew up in a harsh envioment and from a very early age learned how to hunt and ride to care for herself, things that Jack Adler fell in love with. The two of them married september 1896, moving to a ranch in Ambarino where they had three happy years of marriage before the O'Driscolls arrived at their cabin.

[imfinereallyy]

Father Figures

pt. 2 here, and full version on ao3 here

The first time James Edward Hopper meets Steve Harrington is when Steve is thirteen years old. It is back when he is still pushing everyone to call him Chief Hopper, or at the very least James to sound more professional. It is mostly a lost cause, as he has just returned to Hawkins after his daughter Sarah's death and most people can't help but call him Jim and Hop in familiarity, in sympathy.

It didn't mean they didn't take him any less seriously though. In fact, his cold, grieving demeanor gave him quite the reputation around town. Made assholes like Lenny Byers and troublemakers like the little twerp Munson turn in the other direction when they see him. So Jim doesn't try to push the professional name too much. He knows people around here respect him.

They respect him enough to follow his word, they respect him enough to turn a blind eye when he takes an extra pill or two.

Jim doesn't think too deeply about his reputation until he meets Steve Harrington for the first time.

He gets a call from Benny. It's directly to his line at the station, instead of a general 911 call. He doesn't think much of it when he answers, most likely it was a non emergency from an old friend from high school. That's the only reason people call him most days.

"Chief Hopper. Make it quick."

"Jimmy." A deep, worried breath comes from the phone.

Jim immediately straightens. "Benny, what's wrong?"

Benny usually only calls for a laugh, or to invite him out for a drink. The guy doesn't care about too much, or ask too many questions. Hearing concern in his voice was alarming, to say the least. "Listen, Hop, there is a kid here. And normally I don't care, cause business is business, but it's two in the morning, Jimmy. And despite the kid wearing the most expensive pair of sneakers I have ever seen, he only has two dollars on him for a meal. He got all skittish when the plate landed too loudly. And I don't know..." Benny takes a deep breath before he continues. "...I just don't want to be at fault if this kid's trouble and some fancy parents come looking for him."

Jim can tell Benny wants to say something else, he doesn't push though. Jim Hopper tries to never ask too many questions.

"Alright Ben, I'll be there in ten."

———

When Jim arrives at the diner, Benny notices him and nods in the direction of the corner booth. And there, sitting with his head low and scarfing down a plate of fries is Steve Harrington.

Jim has never met the kid personally, but he knows his parents. Cold, calculating, and pretty much owns half of Hawkins. Jim is starting to understand why Benny has called him.

Jim slides into the booth across from the young boy. He's prepared to take the kid by the back of his shirt and drag him out of there. He doesn't need these kids to be causing hard-working people any trouble. But when Jim makes a thump in the booth, the Harrington kid's face snaps up in fear, and Jim's plan for an angry monologue just drops.

Because there, on Steve Harrington's jaw, is a bruise the size of Indiana itself. Jim's face remains gruff, but his body language softens. "Hey, kid. What are you doing here so late?"

Steve's posture remains stiff and small. "Sorry sir, I was just hungry and it was the only place open. I wasn't—I wasn't trying to cause trouble."

It's then, for the first time, Jim thinks that his reputation isn't one of respect. Instead, his reputation might something worse. Fear.

"Didn't think you were. Just wondering what a rich kid like you, is doing on this side of town, at this time of night." Jim doesn't say it like a question, just fact. He tries not to take it too personally when Harrington turns his bruised side in on himself.

"Would have uh—gotten something from home but we—I didn't have any food left. And by the time I was able to eat, everything else was closed."

"Able to eat—kid what are you rambling about. Let me call your parents to pick you up." Jim makes his way to stand but Steve grabs his wrist to pull him back.

"No! I mean—" he clears his throat "—not necessary sir. My parents left for a work trip tonight. I uh—don't have a number for you to call them anyway. They call me instead, they never have a solid line to contact. Nothing bad happens in Hawkins anyway, so it isn't something to worry about." The last line sounds practiced, like it is something repeated to Steve religiously enough it's become his own mantra.

Jim is starting to put it together. The waiting all day to eat. The bruise on his jaw. The lack of money for food. God, the kid probably walked six miles to get here.

Jim isn't stupid, he can connect the dots. But Jim also knows when not to push things. When not to rock the boat. When sometimes, even if it pains him, helping someone would be a lost cause. He thinks of Sarah briefly.

It's even worse when that lost cause is just a kid.

Jim decides maybe the best thing he can do for Steve at that moment is to ignore the obvious problem and offer him a bit of kindness. "Well, I can't have ya here this late. Could look bad for Benny. And we don't want to get Benny in trouble do we?"

Steve shakes his head immediately. "No Sir."

"Didn't think so. Why don't I drive you to the station? Don't worry I'm not arresting you. But we got a nice cot there, and you can get some rest. Then I'll drive you back in the morning when I clock out. Cause I'm still on duty and all. Can't be driving you back Loch Nora quite yet." Jim doesn't mention how he can see bags under Steve's eyes. He doesn't mention how it would be quicker to his house than to the station either. Jim maybe, just a little bit, wants to keep an eye on him. Even if it's only for a short time.

"It's okay I can walk—" Jim levels Steve with a look "—actually that sounds great. Thank you, Sir."

Jim nods with finality and starts to stand. "Oh and kid? Enough with that sir crap. I ain't Mr. Harrington." He almost says I'm not your dad. But that felt wrong somehow, giving Harrington senior that title.

"Okay, sir—I mean Hopper. Okay, Hopper."

---

As the years go by, James Edward Hopper keeps an eye out for Steven James Harrington (Yes he looks at his file for his full name. Yes, it makes him feel some sort of way he has his name as his middle name and not his father's. Richard would make a horrible middle name anyway). At first, it's drive-bys to see if anyone's home. Giving the kid a ride if he sees him walking. Swinging by a basketball game or two, to see how he's playing.

Then it turns into busting his ragers. Hauling him in for the night not to arrest him but to sober the kid up. Pulling him over for driving while intoxicated with that dumb Hagan boy.

Jim wants to be mad, he does. He even yells at Steve sometimes. But he can't find in him to be mean to him, not really. Not when he's pretty sure the only thing Steve has consumed in days is alcohol. Not when even though he has gotten much bigger, and the bruises are less visible, Steve never ceases to flinch when Jim grabs him.

So mostly, Jim either just drives him home or brings him in, giving him a sandwich and bed for the night.

Around when Steve is sixteen though, things get worse for Jim. He becomes more frustrated, with Steve, with his job, and with this town. He takes more pills. He neglects his job. He forgets Steve.

Then the Upside Down happens for the first time. Jim tries to better himself for Joyce and the kids. He mainly though does it for El. His second chance, his new reason for trying, his daughter.

Jim knows it's okay to get a little lost in taking care of her. That it's a good thing, and she deserves his full attention.

He does feel a bit of guilt though, after round two of the Upside Down. When Steve Harrington sits in Joyce Byer's living room, looking like he went ten rounds with a semi.

The kids are all over him (including Mike which shocks the hell out of him). Dustin is trying to stop the bleeding on his face, Lucas is holding ice against his head and even El, who Steve met for all of five minutes, is sitting beside him on the couch, holding his shoulder up. There is a look in El's eyes as she stares up at Steve. Like she can see through him, like she knows him. Like she understands him.

Jim feels his heart break a little.

He approaches Steve in a crouched position. "Hey kid, I think we better take you to a hospital. You look like shit." He is sure there is a better way to say it, but Jim Hopper is a blunt man and that was never going to change.

The redhead, Max, snorts. "That's honestly the nicest way to put it."

Steve glares, Jim can't decide if it's at him or the kids. "No. I'm okay."

Dustin shouts, "Steve you are most definitely not okay. Hop's right you look like shit—"

"Language."

Dustin ignores Steve, "—and that's just externally. Who knows what's going on internally."

"C'mon kid, I can drive ya." Jim moves to help him stand.

Steve bursts with anger and pushes Jim away. "I said no. And you're not my dad."

Jim's jaw tightens and he resists the urge to scream back: and thank god for that.

El speaks before he can yell back. "You're hurt." It's soft, it's demanding and it's so very El. Jim watches Steve crumble back into the couch.

His voice is rougher than before, but much more gentle, "No hospitals."

"Okay. At least let Joyce look at ya. She used to be a nurse." Jim puts a hand on his shoulder, careful not to jostle him.

"Okay, Hopper. Okay, Hop."

———

After that, for a little while, Jim tries to look out for Steve again. It's harder this time though. He's more independent and harder to catch sight of. When he does see him, one of the gremlins is around him, and he can't check-in. And Hop has El, and he can't neglect her in favor of Steve. He tries to balance it out, but in the end, Steve isn't his kid.

Jim finds a small loophole though, which is El herself.

He worries about her every she since she ran away and he didn't even notice. And he knows Steve, like him, has a soft spot for the kids. So under the guise of babysitting, Jim gets Steve in his cabin once a week. So someone other than Joyce or Jonathan (or horribly, mike) is spending time with her. Sure, he's not there to keep an eye out for Steve himself, but it's the closest he's going to get.

Besides, biological daughter or not, El is just like Jim. She has a habit of collecting strays. If it's not going to be him looking out for Steve, he can't think of anyone better for the job than his little girl.

———

After Starcourt, somewhere in a Russian prison, Jim thinks of Steve.

Every day, Jim thinks of El. Misses her. Longs to hear her laugh even longs to hear her yell back at him. Every day, Jim thinks of his daughter and mourns what could have been. But Jim knows she's being taken care of. Knows Joyce and the boys will love her, and take care of her. Make sure she knows nothing else but kindness.

He worries though, between those moments, about how there is no one there for Steve.

———

Months later, in Hawkins Memorial, Jim Hopper finds Steve Harrington in a hospital chair next to Eddie Munson's comatose body.

Jim has a lot of questions but doesn't get any of them out because suddenly Steve Harrington is right in front of him, sucking in a harsh "Hop," and then collapsing in Jim’s arms.

Jim holds him close, says nothing, and cries silently with him.

———

During the summer that follows, James Edward Hopper notices a change within Steven James Harrington. Despite the obvious PTSD the boy suffers, and the scars that litter his body, Steve is visibly happier than Jim has ever seen him. He laughs more, he openly cries more, and he loves more.

Steve's now living with Robin in a tiny two-bedroom downtown. He comes to family dinner with the entire party every Sunday. He shares a cup of tea (no more beer for either of them) and a cigarette every Thursday evening on the Byers-Hoppers front porch.

Most noticeably, the biggest difference Jim sees in Steve is Eddie Munson.

Jim once again isn't stupid. And despite being an ex-cop isn't a bigot (he couldn't find himself back at the force, the corruption is too much for him. And he himself, was never very good at his job). So he can easily come to the conclusion that Steve has a massive crush on Eddie Munson.

Dear. God.

It's not that he has a problem with Eddie being a boy, but it's the fact that out of all people he can choose from, Steve had to go and fall for the twerp who used to trip over his laces when running away from Jim for the third time.

Jim feels, after all the years of neglect that Steve faced, he could do so much better.

Steve is happy though for once, and Jim doesn't say anything at first. But it becomes so painful to watch. The lingering touches. The longing gazes. The nicknames (sweetheart, honey, dear god did he just say big boy—).

Nothing ever comes of it though, it's August and neither of them has done anything but pine. And Jim seems to be the only one who notices.

At first, he thinks it's cause everyone is being kind, and giving them room to explore themselves. But with everyone making jokes about Robin and Steve (from the kids) or Steve and Nancy (from Eddie), it seems like no one notices the excruciating flirting between the two.

(Except for maybe Robin, but Jim isn't quite sure Steve and she aren't one organism. He doesn't count her)

Still, Jim ignores it though. He has learned his listen from Mike and El. Getting involved makes everything worse.

That is until, the second week in August right before family dinner, when he finds Steve and Eddie early, sitting on the couch, with Eddie dabbing the blood off of Steve's face.

"What happened?" Jim is over on Steve's other side in an instant.

"Nothing Hop, it's stupid." Steve tries to shrug off, and he looks towards Eddie briefly.

Jim's vision, for a brief brief moment, is filled with unclear rage. It's enough to consume him and makes him impulsive. Jim can't help but think he got it wrong. Maybe the two are together, and Steve had fallen into a bad relationship. He knew that Eddie was trouble, but he didn't think about it being that kind.

And though he is being irrational, and being for once a little stupid, no one can really blame him when he hauls Eddie up by the collar and into his line of vision.

"Munson, did you put your goddamn hands on my kid?"

Jim can hear Joyce, El, and Will (the only other people in the house) all run out into the living room at the sheer volume of Jim's voice.

Steve sits frozen, Joyce and El yell at him to "put him down, oh my god."

And Munson? He starts to ramble.

"No. No! I would never, ever hurt anyone. Haven't we learned this by now? I can barely kill a spider. I have to put them in a cup and put them outside." Eddie chuckles nervously, waving his hands around frantically.

Jim's grip tightens and pulls him closer. He's pretty sure his vibrating at this point.

Suddenly though, Eddie becomes deathly serious. As if he just realizes what Hopper has said.

"Hop, I would lay down my life before I ever hurt Steve. There is no one in this world that deserves kindness more than him. And if I ever do hurt him, whether it be emotionally or physically, I give you full permission to beat me up. Hell, I'll probably throw myself at your fist."

Jim doesn't let go but stays silent as he listens.

"You see, Steve here decided to pull a you when some jerks wouldn't leave me alone at Family Video today. They were throwing around a bunch of slurs. Nothing I haven't heard before. And even though I could handle myself—“ Eddie gives Steve a look “Steve here always has to be the hero and decided to defend my honor. And of course, it just had to turn physical. And Steve decided to take on three guys on his own. Got to say though, he held his own. It was kinda hot honestly—"

Jim hears Steve choke a little beside them, startling him out of his frozen state.

"—And he only got a cut on his forehead from one of the dickwads class rings. I'm a little worried he has another concussion though. Believe me, Hop when I say, I am just as pissed at those guys as you."

At the end of his speech, Eddie calms down and even holds eye contact with Jim. He still doesn't let go of the twerp, despite being considerably less angry. Well, at least at Eddie.

It's Steve though that finally gets him to let go. "Dad, please put Eddie down."

Steve says it like it's nothing. Steve says it likes its the easiest thing in the world. But to Jim, to Jim it's the best thing he's gotten since El.

Instantaneously, Jim drops Eddie back on the ground and scoops Steve into a bone-crushing hug. "You got to stop scaring me like this kid. Can't lose you again."

Steve's almost his height now, so he tucks Steve's head into his shoulder and lays his head on top of his hair. He hears a muffled, wet "I'm sorry" against him.

Jim chokes back tears as he says, "No, no you got nothing to apologize for. Just be more careful. Okay?"

Steve releases himself from his hold and looks at him. "Okay, Hop. Okay, Dad."

Jim ruffles his hair without jostling his head too much. He thinks he would do anything for his kids. Including pushing along this nightmare of a pining contest.

"And if you like him I like him too."

"Huh?" Steve says confused.

"Eddie here. If you like him, then he's okay by me."

Steve goes to stop Jim, but he's already one step ahead. "But if he hurts you even in the slightest, you're watching me dig the grave I'm going to bury him in. Understand?"

Steve blushes from head to toe and nods frantically, knowing if he protests it will only make the conversation longer. The room is silent until Eddie speaks.

"Don't worry Hop, I'll dig the grave for you." Eddie's voice, despite the threat, is filled with delight, wonder, and hope.

My work here is done Jim thinks as he gives the boys one last nod and leaves the room.

And if later, if Jim sees Steve and Eddie holding hands at the dinner table he doesn't comment on it. And if he sees Eddie give Steve's knuckles a light kiss, and whisper something that almost looks like "I love you", he only smiles at the two boys. Because if one more person loves his boy, it's a win for him.

Because James Edward Hopper, thinks his son Steve deserves that and so much more.

———

okay I spent waaaay too much time on this (as per usual) but I wanted to dive in a little more on Steve and Hoppers relationship (and how it impacts Steve and Eddie). I feel like a lot of fics makes them distant friends (which is canonically correct I guess) or surrogate family with no explanation. And I like the idea of them slowing building a father son relationship. Really leaning into you choose your family. I know people have mixed feelings about Steve calling him Dad (honestly sometimes I too think it’s cringey) but sometimes I love it and that boy deserves a good father figure. Even though steddie doesn’t come in until the end, I think it all really blends together nicely. Also in my head either the boys are both out to each other, is at least it’s heavily implied or is a known safe space they are in. We do not support outing people in the house. It’s probably a one-shot, but maybe I’ll add more snippets later on. For now it felt like a good place to stop.

As always I hope you enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed writing it. I just zoned out for like two hours as I wrote it. It kinda made me emotional I’m not going to lie.

part 2 here and the full version on ao3 here

[saintmuses]

❝𝙄 𝙤𝙣𝙘𝙚 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙥𝙤𝙞𝙨𝙤𝙣 𝙞𝙫𝙮, 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙄'𝙢 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙙𝙖𝙞𝙨𝙮❞

Pairing:

Lenny Miller x Stripper!Reader

Summary:

She was one of the former CIA operatives who escaped from the deaths of others when their mission to kill KGB’s director was compromised. She was never to be seen again until Lenny came across her at a strip club he had no intention of going to.

Warning(s): SMUT. P in V. Lap-dancing. Riding. Minors, dni!

Word Count: 3k

New York City had always been lively, so was everywhere in the state of New York. He had recently moved to his apartment about a month ago after leaving Washington D.C. for an assignment.

The narrowed alley was filled with slight echoes from his leather shoes as he walked down the darkened street.

He had been in Europe for a few years, but he left after the success of eliminating KGB’s director with Anna’s help and after she died, he requested a transfer to a different CIA location for a change of scenery.

He cared for Anna, but not like how she cared for him. He had to let her down gently after realizing she was latching onto his kindness for something more during her mission to obliterate KGB’s director.

He'd suppose he would've reciprocated her feelings if someone else didn't steal his heart long before then.

"Give it up for Daisy! Quite a show she gave you guys!"

He paused; his head turned towards the building where his hearing picked up an intriguing announcement.

Rarity had its moments when he used to go to strip clubs to find a potential dancer to warm his bed when they were all that rage back in the day and willingly to break the no-sleeping rule. Now he was satisfied with living in solidarity.

As much as the strip club was dirty but it had a compelling atmosphere with heavy seductive beats.

Of their own accord, his feet moved closer to the door of the club. 

He froze when a bouncer grunted out a number, and he realized that he was standing at the entrance. He fished out a wad of cash after pulling it out from his trouser pocket. Entering through the door after handing over the cash to the bouncer.

Dimmed lights and smokey air greeted him as he moved further in the club.

His eyes scanned the stage to see one of the best dancers. She was the reason why he was in the dingy place.

Only she was already gone before he entered the building, and he felt a flash of disappointment. Nevertheless, he found an available seat by the stage.

He inhaled harshly when he saw a girl, no, a woman passing by him. He recognized her by her face which was adorned with smokey makeup. Her hair was set up with loose curls, and she wore a revealing white lacy bra and a white lacy skirt attached to her white underwear.

It was a fit for her skin tone.

However, what caught his attention was her scent. It was the same floral aroma he had smelled when he first met her.

His hand shot out, clasping his fingers around her slim wrist before she could walk any further.

"Excuse me, you can't touch-" She started, whirling around, almost affronted only to falter in surprise when her eyes landed on the familiar man. "Lenny?" She asked, making a slight noise in her throat as she stared down at him.

He hadn't seen her since the night she disappeared when the first mission to assassinate KGB’s director had gone wrong. Of course, it didn’t deter him from searching for her only to give up when she did a job of eradicating herself from the grid the way they all learned how to if things went wrong.

A few years had made Y/N even more beautiful than she was when she was younger.

His lips curled into a smirk, "Daisy." He said her stage name smoothly before releasing her wrist.

Sure, it was her favorite flower. He knew little things about her the ways he would not care to learn if it was someone else.

Her cheeks quickly flushed in embarrassment, "what are you doing here?" 

Before he could answer her question, a man walked up to them. Stumbling as he went before standing in front of them.

Lenny could tell he was intoxicated by the smell of his breath as it washed over them and the way he was swaying. 

His eyes flickered to her when she shifted uncomfortably, eyes down casting to the concrete floor.

He could feel his skin crawling when he noticed the drunk man leering at her, as he pulled out his wallet, he watched Y/N's face, his mouth grew taut as her eyes widened almost imperceptibly.

She did not want to; it was clear to him.

Lenny reached out, effectively stopping the man from fishing out cash for a private dance. "Pardon me, she is doing me a favor." He said dryly, eyes narrowing when he saw the man turning to him with a challenge look in his pupils’ blown depths.

"I didn't see you pay her," he scoffed.

Lenny’s lips curled in amusement as he absentmindedly grabbed his leather wallet, grabbing a crisp hundred-dollar bill, he saw her eyes widened before he handed it over to her.

"Now I just did," he countered with a hint of smugness in his tone as he stared down at the sleazy man.

He could feel her grabbing the bill, and he turned to her ignoring the man standing in front of them. "May we find a room?"

She bit down her lower lip, before nodding.

When she found them an available room, he allowed her to go in first before turning to a bouncer who stood in the hallway for private rooms; he quietly paid him to not let anyone in until they leave and not to bother them. 

She turned to him after he'd shut the door quietly. "I'm sorry...but I will have to give you a dance," she said quietly. Flushing as her eyes laid on the door behind Lenny’s shoulder. 

"Of course."

He walked over to the couch that was adorned with red leather fabric. Music with tempo beats bled through the speakers. 

It was meant to be seductive.

He sat down with an ease, watching Y/N staring at him with an unreadable mask on her face before she walked over to him shyly. "How long have you been working here?"

She hesitated, eyes flickering away from the floor to his. "Almost four years."

"Why?" He wasn't being judgmental, but he was very curious especially when she didn't answer him. "Y/N, what happened?" He almost persisted.

After a moment of pause, she answered. "I've been hiding from the KGB operatives," she said quietly. "After a near brush with death, I thought that I would have a chance staying low. So, I moved here after I escaped from the building." Her eyes then flickered to somewhere else as it became unseeing. "I joined the strip club to make money."

She leaned down slightly to take off her heels as the light notes started to play from the stereo. He shifted in his seat when he realized she would have to give him a lap dance.

He almost inhaled sharply when her hands touched his trouser-clad knees.

She then slid her hands up his thighs, slowing her pace as she reached up his chest, her fingers ghosting over his blazer.

"Why are you in New York?" She asked, breaking the tension that thickened the moment the door was shut.

His eyes were almost heavily lidded as he was influenced by the tension of the room when he stared down at her.

"I live here now; I left after the mission of assassinating the KGB director went successful." He said, his fingers rubbed on the leather next to his thigh absentmindedly.

Her lips twitched, "congratulations."

Avoiding his eyes, she leaned over him slightly before putting her hands on his shoulders. 

"Thank you for saving me from him." 

Knowing she was talking about the intoxicated male. "You're welcome, and you shouldn't have to deal with that." He murmured.

Her hands applied pressure as she put her knees next to each of his thighs, the air was suffocating him as he had to keep the noises to a slight minimum.

He didn't shy away from her shy gaze when she peered at him, he could tell she was nervous. He didn't blame her for feeling that way, since they never really cross the line of their work until now.

His fingers again itched to trace her skin, and his eyes widened slightly when she started twirling her hips sensually that it affected him greatly.

If seeing her constantly as his operative was bad enough, the fact she was almost naked years later -bra and thong as the only source of cover- would be his undoing.

She was stiff especially with how she was moving with her hips, quite frankly so was he. For different reasons from hers, he thought. She was twirling her hips above his thighs, lowering her form slightly, nearly brushing against the rising bulge in his slacks.

He held his breath, he was being selfish especially with how she was uncomfortable in his presence, but he didn't want to stop her.

He was a gentleman; he would stop if she wasn't willing.

He reached for her hips with his hands and pushed her lower body down onto his hardened cock. Keeping her hips immobilized as the room was filled with a little gasp coming from her lips and heavy breathing from the stoic man.

He closed his eyes when she tentatively started to shift her hips, in a movement that had her grinding lightly against his bulge.

"Lenny." She breathed his name slightly.

His eyes shot open, staring into her depths as the scent of her arousal predominated the air. He was still staring at her when he reached her back. Ghosting his fingers onto her dampened skin as they traced the grooves, ridges, and curves of her spine before enclosing his fingers around her bra clasps.

He then twisted the metal clasps to unhook her bra before sliding his fingers towards her neck. Gripping it slightly before pulling her down so he could taste her lips.

A tiny puff of air coming from her lips in a form of gasp had him giving her a bruised kiss. He wanted it for so long that he was devouring the taste of her lips.

Her fingers gripped his shoulders as she moved her warm lips against his. He slowly moved his hands towards her breasts, cupping them slightly. Thumbs flickering over her pebbled nipples. 

Swallowing her gasp into his mouth after he arched his hips when she went to grind down onto him.

He then slid his hands down around her waist before sliding towards her back to unclasp her mini lacy skirt before making her get on her feet; so, he could put his fingers in her thong before pulling them down.

"You have thought about this, didn't you." He said in a husky tone, making his voice raspier.

Her eyes were wide, watching him, and her mouth was open "no." She said after a beat. It may be dimmed in the room, but luckily his eyes were able to train on how her pupils dilated.

He smirked before pulling her to him, pushing her waist so he could move her away from him. 

She looked at him confused before turning around, and she gasped when he wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her down on top of him.

She leaned back onto him as she'd spread her thighs over his. His hands slid over her legs.

"What did I tell you about your eyes, sweetheart?" He murmured against the curve of her neck, gripping her thighs as he grazed his fingers into the juncture of her thighs.

"I don't remember," a gasp tore from her lungs as he pressed his fingers onto her clit.

He chuckled lowly in his throat, trailing his lips towards her ear. "You're a very bad liar," he rasped, his lips stretched into a predatory smile as he rubbed one of his fingers down through her slit. Collecting her wetness along before pushing a finger into her.

He inhaled slowly when she made a slight noise, and he moved his finger in a thrusting movement before adding another finger.

"If it makes you feel better, I thought about it." He breathed into her ear, "especially after you started working for me." 

Oh, he definitely imagined her in one of situations. Taking her behind on her hands and knees while the others were out of the building for the night.

She inhaled sharply, "you imagined taking me over your desk?" She asked disbelievingly.

He chuckled lowly, "I may be very good at controlling myself, but deep down I am still a man."

She snorted slightly, "a caveman." 

His lips curled upwardly, "you have no idea, sweetheart." He said before using his thumb to rub her clit which made her thrust her hips in response.

"I think you'd be surprised," she murmured, rolling her hips along with his movement. "When I first started working with you, you had this strict professor vibe like a professor since you wore suits." She paused, breathing heavily when he curled both of his fingers. "I used to fantasize you teaching to the class and waited until after the class for you to take me on the desk while calling you sir."

He felt a heat of tendrils curling on his back at the thought of taking her on the desk.

"I'll teach you how to say sir," he rumbled, and he smirked when he felt more wetness leaking out of her. He reached with his other hand to cup her breast and rubbed across her nipple before he pressed a kiss onto her neck.

"I want you to fuck me, Lenny." She quietly pleaded. "Sir," she then said playfully.

He exhaled a weak chuckle before pulling out his fingers, and he waited for her to stand up so he could unbuckle his belt and unzip his slacks.

She stopped him, "wait. I want you to take your blazer off." She said quietly.

He softened before reaching for the black fabric, sliding them off his shoulders before putting it aside. He then unbuckled his leather belt, and he could feel her eyes which made his eyes flickered to hers before lowering his zipper. 

His lips almost curled at the increasing lust in her eyes, before reaching his hand down in his briefs, and took his cock out which gently slapped against his abdomen due to how hard it was.

His eyes darkened at the increasing aroma of her arousal, "come here." He said huskily, eyeing her as she walked over to him.

She then put each of her knees beside his thighs as she straddled his knees, and he inhaled when she reached for his cock, encircling her fingers around his girth.

Her fingers could barely even touch, leaving an inch gap between her index finger and her thumb. "You're so..." she trailed off, struggling to find words to describe his cock.

He smirked, "I know."

Her eyes flickered to his, before rolling her eyes playfully.

He reached behind her, grabbing the curve of her buttocks with both of his hands before sliding her forward.

She lifted her hips slightly enough for his cock to be able to slide into her, and once she eased her hips down. He threw his head back at the warm feeling of her walls sliding down on his cock as she gasped above him.

He slid his hands to grip her hip and moved her upward before slamming into her as he pushed her hips back down.

"Fuck." She moaned, her hands gripping slightly on his hair at the base of his neck before sliding down to his shirt and started to unbutton the fabric.

Once she was done with her task, she raised her hips once again and slammed back down.

He jerked his hips sharply when she used her walls to clench down on his cock.

"Y/N," he warned her, not wanting to come too soon. He reached down with his hand before giving her a soft smack on one of her buttocks.

She jerked her hips in surprise before moaning.

"You like that too," he breathed, chuckling before giving her another one. She inhaled as more wetness leaked out of her once again. 

She looked down at him, and with a mischievous look in her depths, she clenched around his cock again.

She was on her back before she could make another movement on his cock with her vaginal walls, he was on his trouser-clad knees, her thighs wrapped around his hips as he thrusted into her harshly without hurting her.

She arched her back as he hovered over her, his lips barely grazed hers before he dragged his lips as he thrusted into her roughly. 

Their lips clashed once again when the force of his hips made her face level with his.

Her hair was wild as it spread around her face as he reached down to one of her legs, and moved her leg over his shoulder, making him sink into her deeper than he had before.

He grazed his lips on her calf, making her heart jump. He gave her a soft smirk. She slid her hands into his parted shirt before moving them onto his back, rubbing his skin slightly.

He let out a grunt when she dug her fingers on his back, which made him bury his face in the curve of her neck as he jerked his hips into her.

"Lenny." She moaned breathlessly, slightly arching her neck towards him.

He closed his eyes before leaning in towards the juncture of her neck. He then grazed her neck with his teeth.

Her fingers flexed against his back once more, and he could feel the upcoming pleasure. He then growled as he buried himself in her so deeply before he let the final pleasure wash over him; once he spilled into her, he buried his blunt teeth into her damp skin.

Her response was instantaneous, she arched her back and moaned so loudly as the final tempo of the song faded into the air.

Once they relaxed from the high, he withdrew his mouth from her neck before looking at her. "Y/N," he whispered, brushing her loose strands out of her face to look at her clearly.

She peered up at him with a satisfied smile, and heavily lidded eyes. "Lenny."

He gave her a lazy smile before craning his neck to give her a soft kiss.

[ash5monster01]

52nd Street

Chapter Six - Until The Night 🎶

Pairing: Steve Harrington x FemReader

Warnings: 18+, angst, smut, oral (fem receiving), p in v, dirty talk, praise, no use of protection, language.

Summary: Finally at a real job, Steve finds that the both of you aren’t as close anymore. He yearns for the nights when you two are finally alone.

word count: 3.2k

Five ←→ Seven

Masterlist

Fall 1990

But now it feels as though the day goes on forever

It was great, at first. It was great when you planned the beautiful backyard wedding, and it was great when Steve landed his big job, even better when you were able to save up enough to buy back Steve’s childhood home. You were both living the dream, enjoying the married life, and finally doing what you both pictured when you first started dating. Thing was, no one ever really brings up how hard it can be.

When you were just dating it was easy, you both worked the same job, got to go home to your apartment together, were extremely involved in the other’s life. Now Steve left for work and you worked from home. When you were done with that you ran errands, and found yourself lacking any conviction in life. As for Steve, the job would run him down, doing the very thing he promised himself he never would, but he wanted to provide for you. Wanted to share a life that wasn’t constantly a struggle and if work was the only thing he had to sacrifice, then so be it. Just sometimes, he couldn’t shake that mood when he got home.

Because of all of this you had lost some of that passion, that desperation to always be with each other, and Steve was determined to get it back. He did his part, he never asked where you go during the day when he leaves for work in the morning, the both of you going your different ways to seperate situations, and it wasn't that easy anymore. It was required of him to do what must be done and give his time to total strangers. He could no longer save that all for you and it made his days feel like they go on forever. More than they ever did before. So today, on this very Friday he promised himself he would make the most of it. Until the night, when he could make it up to you. He might just make it, eyes trained on the clock and small pile of paperwork in front of him.

"Hey Lenny" you smile fondly at the bag boy that had been working in the local grocery for a few months now. Considering you went shopping at the same time every other Friday, you had come to know many of the workers here.

"Hey Mrs. Harrington, beautiful day today" the sweet young boy answered and you couldn't help but cringe at the name. Mrs. made you feel old, which hopefully you weren’t yet. Then again you were married at twenty three, feeling vaguely like a teenager and an adult all at the same time. You always wondered if things would have been different if you and Steve had gone to college. Either way, you only liked it when Steve called you Mrs. Harrington because it normally led to something a bit more pleasing.

"One of the last good ones Lenny, it'll be cold before you know it" you grinned at him as you loaded the items onto the belt, already mentally checking off that you had everything you would need for the next two weeks. Lost in another world you do not notice the big haired brunnette rolled up behind you. Startling almost instantly when she calls your name.

"Hey Nancy" you grin at her, her soft feautres beaming back at you. Still gorgeous as the first day you met her, you can't help but feel the twinge in your gut everytime you remember she was the first girl your husband loved. You had to remind yourself that was another lifetime ago, years seperating the two and now you were married to Steve and she was engaged to Johnathon, the wedding invite for this coming summer already on your fridge.

"How're you, how's Steve, heard he finally took that big job his Dad offered him? You'll have to have us over for dinner soon, I'm desperate to see how you redecorated" she rambles out, too many thoughts on the forefront of her mind and suddenly you feel overwehlmed. Mind stuck on your absent husband who tried his hardest but couldn't escape the effects of his job. How bored you were all alone all day just to have Steve come home to tired to talk. To tired to do anything really.

Nancy see's the tears rimming your eyes almost instantly and she suddenly feels guilty for anything she had said wrong. She's quick to beckon you along, helping you with your groceries and pretty soon it's not long until you are both stood out of the store, bagged items clinking along in your carts. "What's wrong?"

"It's nothing, really, I'm just overwehlmed" you try to tell her, eyes red and strained from fighting off tears. She shakes her head as you both reach your car, her automatically helping. You already felt bad for scarring Lenny with your meltdown.

"Talk to me, you know I'll understand" she urges, eyes full of fondness and you know it's true. She knew what it was like to be in a long time relationship at your age, she was going through it the same as you, and if anyone understood it would be her. With this in mind you let out a heavy sigh and decide to allow it.

"Steve has just been distant lately. It's not his fault, I know it's the job. He never wanted to work for his Dad, you know that, but he took the job for us. He wanted something that could sustain a future and I agreed, but now we've lost that connection. He comes home too tired for me and sometimes I wonder if we would've been better off staying in our small apartment and running that stupid video store" you spill, all of your fears and emotions barren for the girl who least expected to be in the store parking lot with you, sharing your sadness.

"That's not true, and I'm sure he feels bad about it too. Steve loves you, I see it everytime he looks at you. You guys are just stuck right now" she says with the soft shake of her head and you can't help but sigh. You weren't sure how much more you could take with this no talking thing.

“God I hope you’re right, it would be so tragic if the end of us was something as silly as this. Especially when the whole reason he proposed was because I promised I’d love him just the way he is” you say, hands pressing up to your eyes to relieve some tension and tears. Nancy shifts uncomfortably, knowing she was probably part of the very reason Steve had those trust issues. A lifetime ago she had once called the entirety of him bullshit and she regretted it always.

“Just, try to talk to him tonight. Who knows, maybe things will be different” she smiles at you, silver engagement ring glimmering in the sun as she sets the last of your bags in the trunk. You smile right back, collecting the small brunette into a hug.

“Thanks Nance, we’ll have you and Johnathon over for dinner soon. I promise” you tell her and she smiles, hugging you back tightly.

“Good luck tonight” she tells you as she pulls back, gentle features searching your own and you smile, a weight already lifted from your shoulders after your brief talk with her.

“Until the night” you nod and she gives one last smile and wave before pushing her cart to her own car and leaving you to make your way home. Until the night, you just might make it, when you see him again.

You’re only halfway through putting groceries away when you hear the familiar rumble of the BMW pull into the driveway. You hate the way your shoulders deflate just at the idea of Steve coming in and barely paying you any mind. So you continue to put the groceries away as he makes his way in, tie already loose around his neck as he spots you working away in the kitchen.

Steve notices how you barely even turn to greet him, a sad smile on your face as you continue to do what you always did on Friday nights when he got home. He can see how afraid you are that you’ve both changed but sadly the two of you were just getting older. No longer eighteen year old kids excited to explore the big world. You both had been through a lot and he hated that he was slowly turning into his father. A shell of a man no longer in touch with the love he might’ve shared. This very thought is what brings him to walk towards you and wrap his arms around you from behind.

“Hi Rosy” he breathily whispers, head ducking and placing a kiss on the expanse of your neck. You can’t help but stiffen in his arms, almost shocked by the action. This was the Steve you first fell in love with all those years ago, and you hated how odd it was to see him.

“How was work?” you bring yourself to ask and Steve sighs, chin coming to rest on your shoulder.

“Terrible, couldn’t do a thing just waiting to come home and see you” he admits, knowing all to well how he couldn’t keep his mind off of you all day. You can’t help the way your eyebrows draw together in suspicion and you’re quick to turn around in his arms and face your husband.

“Where is this coming from?” And the question makes the guilt twist in his gut with disgust, hating how he had been treating you these last few months. That was going to change, it needed to change.

“I know I haven’t been great lately. Sometimes it’s hard to remember how many broken hearts and lonely faces we’ve shared over the years. We’ve had lovers come and go but we agreed to stay for each other and I haven’t been doing my part” Steve earnestly says, brows furrowed in sadness and his hands locked around your waist as if he let go you would disappear.

“Steve-“ you start with the shake of your head but he’s quick to stop you, hazel eyes searching your own and trying to portray all the regret buried deep within him.

“I know I’ll have my fears like every man and you’ll have tears like every woman but we got this. Even if today we’re unsure but this is what we believe, I believe in us and I want to know how we can go on? I’m going to make a change because not having you until the night is torture” the words he speaks are ones you had been dying to hear for a very long time and you can’t help but smile as your hands reach to cradle his face.

“It’s been torture for me too” you tell him and just like that his lips are sealed against yours in a kiss, his body weight pushing against you and you get sandwiched between him and the counter. You kiss him like a woman starved, which technically you were. Starving for a desirable touch from your husband who wants nothing but you in that moment.

As Steve kisses you he makes a promise to himself. A promise that when the sun goes down and the day is over, and the last of the light is gone as people pour into the street, he will make his way to you. Getting closer as each of the cars turn their headlights on, you’ll be opening up just as they’re closing it down. Work was no longer going to control him, it was just something for him to do during the day until he came home and dedicated himself to you. He knows this to be true when your fingers slide up and through his hair, lower belly nudging against him. He just smiles into your lips as his hands hook under your legs and lift you to the counter.

“I love you” he says in a way that reassures instead of searches for a response. You smile into the kiss, locking your legs around his waist and pulling him flush against you.

“Then show me” you urge him, fingers digging into his shoulders and you slowly grind against the zipper of his jeans. God bless casual Fridays. Steve just grins, hands hooking under you to carry you to the bedroom, dinner and groceries now long forgotten. He loves that while people were going to sleep, you’ll be just starting to touch. He planned to have it that way every night, thankful he was finally beginning to feel again and beginning to give. It had been such a long time and he liked how it made him feel alive.

“You’re so perfect” Steve grins against your skin, kisses trailing down your neck and to your chest. The sensation brings you back to the very first time you ever slept together, how sweet and caring he was. Just the idea of it brings your hands to his hair, softly tugging just as he starts nudging up the hem of your shirt and placing a soft kiss on your stomach. When his fingers curl in the waistband of your pants you can’t help but whimper, needing so much more.

Steve grins at the sound, wasting no time in tugging your pants down, revealing your panties where a wet patch had already started to form. He groans as his tongue glides over it, desperate for a taste of you because it had been so long. Writhing beneath him, he takes his time as he slowly slides the panties down your legs and revealing your glistening core. Steve smiles at you while he drags his finger through your folds, collecting your arousal on the tip of his finger and nudging your clit.

“Please Steve” you beg him as he removes his finger and places it in his mouth. His eyes sparkle with amusement, much darker from the mix of lust and teasing he had been doing.

“Please what?” he asks while feigning innocence. As if he wasn’t currently between your legs right now.

“I need your mouth” you tell him, voice heavy and full of desire. Steve doesn’t need to be told twice as his dips down, nose nudging against your clit as he licks a long stripe through your folds. You moan, the sound becoming strangled when his lips close around your clit and suck hard. Your moans encourage him, bringing him to eat you like a man starved. Your hands find his hair again, caressing the brunette locks as he shoves a finger inside.

“So fucking tight” he mutters, voice raspy and strangled. You can’t help but admire the way he tries his best not to grind into the side of the bed as he listens to your moans.

You do Steve a favor and make quick work of removing your top and bra as he continues to eat you out like an expert. Your legs start to shake the minute you pinch your own nipples and when Steve looks up to see what you’re doing, he nearly faints. “Let me baby,” he muffles into your pussy as you feel that coil begin to tighten. His hands replace your own, groping at the dough of your breasts as you try not to grind against his face.

“Fuck Steve, I’m going to cum” you tell him and that only brings him to move faster, tongue exploring all of you as you shake against him. When he sucks hard on your clit again, you find your eyes rolling back in your head as your orgasm washes over you. He smirks proudly, wiping at his lip as he stands from you, watching as you shake against the mattress.

“Such a good girl” he grins, starting to undo the buttons on his shirt. You watch him shamelessly, admiring the bulge tucked away in his jeans. Steve smiles the whole time, watching you admire him as he strips to his naked form. Your mouth waters at the sight of his chest hair and you can’t help but giggle as his naked form crawls over top of you.

“I’ve needed this” you tell him, panting as he reaches to nudge the tip of him against your folds. His eyes bore into yours, desire for you through the roof.

“Yeah baby?” he asks and you nod, almost on the verge of tears if he didn’t do something soon.

“Yeah, needed you” you tell him in a whine and Steve grins, guiding himself into you, slowly sinking in. You grip his shoulders at the sensation, nails leaving crescent moon marks against his shoulder blades.

“Fuck” you breathily mutter and Steve grins, moving just as agonizingly slow as he fully bottoms himself out. Steves head tips back at the sensation, not moving right away as your walls flutter around him.

“I wanted you to know before I leave again, before the light of dawn, and before this evening can end, I have been waiting for this for so long” Steve says and before you can respond to the heart felt words he’s pulling back and plunging himself in again. You moan out as Steve finds a steady pace, head dropping back down to look at you. He doesn’t miss the way your breasts bounce from his thrusts and he finds himself steadying with his hands on your chest, ramming into you as he feels your nipples pebble beneath his palms.

“So perfect Rosy” he praises, closing his eyes tight as he struggles not to come undone. Still sensitive from your first orgasm you find it hard to even register how good it all feels. When he starts hitting that one spot you feel your back arch against the covers. Steve knows this tell, had seen it a hundred times before, so he quickens his pace, moaning as you tighten around him more and more.

Before you can even process it, your orgasm hits you like a tidal wave, nearly knocking you out. You practically leave earth as Steve continues to drive into you, relishing in the vice grip you have around his length. His hips stutter when his own orgasm follows, coating your insides as he smiles and starts to drop his body weight against you. When you both calm he doesn’t bother sliding out just yet, enjoying the feeling of being this close to you. Being one with you.

All day he kept thinking until the night he just might make it. If he just kept holding on for when he saw you again. If he had known it would’ve been like this, he never would’ve survived. So he lays against you, bare skin slick with sweat and sticking to his own. He loves that he can hear the thump of your heart in his ear, pounding as you came down from your high. He waited his whole life for someone like you and to think he almost wasted a second of it. He was so glad he figured it all out. Just how badly he needed you and always would.

“Now that was fun” you say, hands softly grazing through his hair as he relaxed against you and Steve smiled, pressing a soft kiss to your chest.

“Good, because it’s happening every night from here on out baby” he says with a smile and you laugh lightly, Steve’s head bouncing against you because of it.

“Until the night then”

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[cultofdixon]

Let me help, sunshine

Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • Your anxiety toward your own self worth because of what’s happen to you, makes it hard to be a part of certain things. But he’s so in love with you that you never had to worry. • ANGST/SFW • TW: Injuries / Limping / Canon Violence

Requested by: Anon

It feels like a fever dream. The good.

Y/N stood outside the burning prison holding herself as she shook from the blasts that forced her out of the bed she almost died in. The force from the blast also knocked her on her side, resulting in injury…

She’s been limping trying to find another from her group, or really shelter for that matter.

This feels like the start of the outbreak all over again. Struggling to walk through the destroyed earth and being mistaken as the undead. One too many accidents happened because of such.

The Claimers found her alone before Daryl joined them, even before Rick killed one of their own. He didn’t know Y/N was a part of them because their paths never crossed, and then again Y/N wasn’t…free. She was controlled that entire time, even when Daryl ended up with them.

He was relieved to find her alive. Relieved on an astronomical level…but it wasn’t a happy reunion. The two of them…

Daryl tried to check on her when he first saw she was with them. But this Len or Lenny guy blocked his way and glared at the archer.

“She’s been claimed, buddy”

The archer of course didn’t know what that meant but given her tense posture and the injuries that looked fresh, this group was one of the messed up ones. Or at least this guy that said such.

Their leader explained the rules. Whatever you see that you want, you say “claimed” then no one can do anything about it. Daryl instantly questioned why it was used on a person and was met with obvious looks that made his skin crawl.

“He won’t do nothin’ around us.” Joe laughs leading the way and the group started to walk.

Daryl wasn’t going to leave her and didn’t want to fight anyone in case they’d inflict anything on Y/N. Because little does she know…

When this group started to move and Y/N slowly faded into the back of the group, Daryl looked to the one who “claimed” her and given he wasn’t forcing her back beside him. He took that as his chance to talk to her in hopes no one notices.

But before he got a word in—-

“I’m glad you’re alive” Y/N whispers to Daryl as both felt that reassuring warmth grow in their chest, relieved that the other is still standing.

“Are you okay?” He whispers as she didn’t say a word but shook her head. She looks like a wreck. “You understand this claim nonsense?”

“I know if I just touched your arm, I will meet the short end of that stick”

Daryl wanted to help her given she seemed to be having trouble walking. But this situation with the Claimers only escalated.

This Len guy that claimed her, wanted to get rid of Daryl and decided to use their rules against him. Though it backfired on the guy and the leader in a way, preferred Daryl in their group. But when Len met the other end of a bolt…that brought up an uncomfortable situation.

“Can we claim what was his?” One of the Claimers stated and Daryl instantly stepped in front of Y/N covering her.

“Claimed.” He states and glared at those who even had the thought, which was most of them. Joe laughs a bit to himself and to Daryl’s eagerness.

“She’s yours, man. Even if she is kind of a dud” Joe continued to laugh and every fiber of Daryl’s being wanted to snap him in half, but given she doesn’t have to worry about any of them laying a hand on her. He could check their injuries at the next break they take.

But the next break happened in the middle of a road…where they were met with those who killed one of their own…that happened to be their family. Daryl did his best to intervene, even Y/N.

Then of course, violence was the only answer there.

It happened fast.

Rick taking out Joe, Michonne going after the Claimer keeping her down and the two going for the one on Carl. Daryl took out one of the Claimers on him as Y/N took down the other on the archer.

But the remaining Claimer knocked Y/N onto the ground, pinning her and the painful scream that ripped out of her when he applied all his weight on her already bad leg…triggered Daryl to full on football tackle this man off of Y/N and boy did he meet his maker.

Daryl went to check on Y/N but she wasn’t letting anyone touch her in the moment. He kept a respectable distance when they recuperated for the night and Y/N held onto herself for most of her avoiding eye contact from everybody. She was really wishing they didn’t lose the prison in that moment. Then she wouldn’t have succumbed to all the pain from the illness to her leg causing a lot of discomfort.

“Have you been with this group since the fall of the prison?” Michonne asked Y/N as she shook her head struggling to catch up to her pace when they walked to this ‘Terminus’ place. “Did you see anyone when you woke up? From the illness…”

“I heard Glenn, but I wasn’t quick enough to getting out. He wasn’t there anymore when I got out so there’s hope that he’s still alive”

“And knowing Maggie, she’s probably lookin’ for him” Michonne reassures whatever ounce of anxiety courses in Y/N’s mind when it came to the living status of their family.

Daryl glances back every once in a while to check on Y/N, making sure she was still behind them. She was getting slower and slower the more they walked endlessly.

And that only got worse after Terminus, and after the hospital…

The group was walking endlessly to a shelter that they have no idea exists. Everyone followed Rick’s lead and didn’t question it, but everyone was exhausted. Depressed. Mourning. It was just too much to deal with. Every break they took felt like it wasn’t enough and Y/N didn’t want to share anything on her mind when it came to her physical well-being. Meaning every thought of “just another five minutes” got shoved down and she found herself dragging her injured leg to avoid limping and stepping on it at times causing the sharp pain to radiate.

Her family took notice of the times she end up in the back and those who didn’t want to face the pain they endured mentally, they would stick with her and talk about it. She couldn’t just walk away, not that she would either. It was difficult to push her pain aside, literally.

“Why is he always looking back here…” Y/N whispers, catching Carol’s attention to look ahead noticing Daryl checking on them every now and then.

“You are always at the back. He’s checking on you. Making sure you’re still with us” Hm…

“It’s just…the deadpan look” Y/N shivered slightly a bit tense. “He’s a bit intimidating…and mysterious. But he’s kinda been like that always…just a bit more protective ever since reuniting…”

Carol may not know about what happened from the prison to terminus regarding her friends. But she knew why Daryl would be protective of Y/N.

The walking became rougher the more their group grew tired and dehydrated…Y/N started to think about staying behind. Because the stops didn’t last long but she found herself taking a while to get back up. Least her wounds weren’t bleeding anymore. The bruises lingered. Main thing being the limp and swelling…

Daryl couldn’t help the anxious feeling he got when the group started to pick back up after they had a break to look around their surroundings for food and water. He checked the group around him and then to the back…

No Y/N.

He didn’t want to rile anybody up and make everyone freak out, so he did his usual check around the group until he got to the back and once no one was looking he started to track back. It didn’t take long for him to find Y/N still sitting at the last spot they took a break at, she just thought it would be easier on them if she disappeared.

“Daryl…” Y/N frowns watching him kneel down to her noticing how bad her leg was and mentally beating himself up for not taking care of it sooner. A lot happened, there wasn’t a big enough window to take care of it. “You shouldn’t be here”

“Oh yeah? And you should?” His anger spilled into his tone with a hint of regret. “Why didn’t yea holler for anyone? Or me?”

“Thought it be easier…” Daryl gave her that same deadpan look that made Y/N now sigh because of the situation. “For me to just. Not hold y’all back”

“That ain’t right. Ain’t right one bit” Daryl scoffs trying to help Y/N up but she smacked his hands away for a moment. “Y/N.”

“Daryl just go. Seriously.” She frowns. “I don’t want to hold anyone back. That’s why I just told a few of y’all that I’ll catch up…”

“But you weren’t. And yea didn’t even tell me that. Since yea knew I would argue…well I’m gonna fucking argue” He sets his crossbow down turning himself around and patting his shoulders for her arms.

Y/N was confused. Confused as to why he cared so much. But she complied as she was too exhausted to try and defend her point in any way. What even was there to defend? She didn’t want to be the burden that she currently was and didn’t want to hold the group back. Daryl got that but every fiber of his being would scream if she wasn’t with them.

The retired sheriff gained suspicion when both Daryl and Y/N weren’t around him. But when he turned toward the back he saw the two. Daryl carried Y/N on his back as she had his crossbow on hers. He sighed a bit relieved before continuing further.

All this walking…made the suspicion thing of water magically appearing, very appealing.

“You think it’s poisoned?” Carol questions Rick as he shrugs, still not trusting it though.

“Someone is watching us”

“So we shouldn’t trust it” Sasha states watching Eugene instantly go for a bottle and the moment he opened it, Abraham smacked it out of his hand. “Seriously?”

“What?! Someone has to test it for poison”

“Should’ve been me” Y/N scoffs. “I doubt imma last much longer on this leg”

“Stop.” Daryl couldn’t help but be upset by such as he blocked her from going over to it. Even if she wasn’t going to.

Then a miracle happened, or a coincidence, whichever you believe in…when the rain started to pour. Few started to open the bottles, empty them and fill it with the rain. Others enjoyed the downpour…and those who’ve lost took it all in

Y/N still kept close to Daryl, this time for warmth but she felt uneasy…nothing changed with the physical feeling but something pained her chest as she looks up at Daryl noticing the sadness that radiated from his blank expression. She took a chance by gently interlocking her fingers with his as he instantly brought his attention to their hands before looking at her.

“I’m gonna be okay, Dixon. I have you”

Her words struck him down, while the rain actually made her fall down from slipping. A small laugh was shared even if that drew more worry from Daryl’s end.

The two have been close and the time from the Claimers to the barn being told about this new place that they could call home brought them closer. Now the group was being evaluated to be helpful around the community, they took their chances with it. With caution of course.

“How’s your leg?” Maggie asks Y/N once she got settled on the couch, after being told to stay out by both Daryl and Rick.

“The surgeon guy they have said I won’t lose it but I have to stop walking on it”

“And yea better listen” Daryl was quick to add bringing himself to the window behind the couch sticking close. Maggie let out a small laugh to his response but she knew he cared for Y/N.

It’s been a day and a half with being in this new community and Daryl kept to himself for the most part. Sticking outside on the porch of Carol’s on the side that connects to Rick’s. He would look in the window every now and then to check on Y/N making sure she stayed put. She slept for the most part given she didn’t let herself sleep when with the Claimers and during the illness she was afraid to. Finally not dealing with any threat she thought it would be okay and she was being taken care of so nothing to worry about.

Reg, Deanna’s husband, made his way over to the Grimes’ residence when most of them were out and Daryl instantly shot up from the porch when he got to the steps.

“Heard y’all had someone with a bum leg. Thought I’d bring these over” He states pointing out the crutches in hand. “We found them a while ago but knew Pete didn’t want your person using them immediately.”

“Thanks.”

“You gonna give them to…?”

“Y/N.” Daryl brought himself to the Grimes side and took the crutches as Reg smiles in his direction when he didn’t return it back. “Her name is Y/N”

“She’s important to yea, huh? I can tell” Reg smiles with a laugh followed as Daryl felt a twitch of a smile that he did his best to hide.

“I uh. Better get these to her…”

“If you ever need anything, don’t be afraid to ask” Reg adds while taking his leave as Daryl watches him go to make sure he was gone before going inside the house.

The man always manages to sneak up on everybody, but to his surprise Y/N wasn’t asleep and gave him a smile the second he walked in.

“You shower yet?” She smirks listening to him scoff instantly. “Carol made me ask next time you came in to check in on me”

“You know I’ve been checking on yea?”

“You are sneaky, but not that sneaky” Y/N smiles bringing her legs off the couch patting the space next to her. Daryl approached at first because of the discomfort that grew on her face when she moved her leg, but then sat with her when she relaxed once more. “Those for me?”

“Nah they’re for me” Daryl jokes, a bad one, but it got a small laugh from Y/N. “The swelling down?”

“Yes. Not completely but enough to move around I guess…” She carefully brought her leg onto the coffee table showing Daryl as his worry poured out of him but in his own way. His eyes said everything. “Daryl, can I ask you something?”

“Mhm”

“Why…why were you so upset when I told you to leave me behind? I didn’t…if this place never came, I wouldn’t have wanted to be a burden to you all”

“And I can’t live in a world without you” Daryl without any hesitation admits a hidden feeling that Y/N, of course, didn’t connect that at all by everything he’s done. But it made sense…

“Daryl…”

“I wanted to go back in, when that son of a bitch attacked the prison…but Beth dragged me out. Tellin’ me you’re still alive. I believed her, but I was angry” Daryl frowns keeping his eyes onto his hands as he messes with a loose thread at the hem of his shirt. “I would’ve been angry forever if I let yea die in there…then those fuckers had yea. Hurt yea…and thank fuck they met their end, for ever laying a hand on you. But it just got worse and you were hurting the entire time that I just. I just needed to control one thing just for a moment…to keep you around…so I’d understand if yea don’t feel the same way or anythin’. But I’ll always do my best to keep yea around. For everybody, for myself, and for you.”

The immediate silence gave mixed signals to Daryl but before he could even have the thought of getting up and giving her space. Y/N gently brought her hand to his, letting him carefully take hers.

“I know you’re serious about your feelings…Im a bit…taken back…because I’ve never been a first choice or whatever. I’m not the best at explaining my feelings”

“Neither am I” His thumb rubs circles against her hand feeling her squeeze his hand while a soft giggle escapes her lips.

“Yeah, but at least you said something” Y/N smiles warmly. “Because let’s be real. Rick or Carol or Maggie—-literally anyone in our group. Would’ve probably had to lock us in a room together to get one of us to say something…if my anxiety of being locked in places didn’t kick in” he hums for a quick response taking in her words.

“I thought I scared yea. That’s why I didn’t say nothin’ sooner”

“Mm. You are intimidating, but I was more afraid of being rejected more than anything”

“So…”

“It’s mutual, Dixon” Y/N continues to smile leaning into his space pressing her lips against his cheek as his eyes closed to impact, and he found himself leaning toward her when she pulled away. “We’ll take it slow, Daryl. But to reassure you…I’m yours and no one will change my mind”

Daryl exhales finally letting that weight of possible rejection go as he turned entirely toward her releasing her hand and gently brushing the loose hair out of the way of her beautiful face. Admiring every feature for a moment.

“Will you let me finally help yea, sunshine?”

And so she did.

It took a few days to get used to walking without the help of crutches or her family hovering whenever they got the chance. Y/N was given a pantry job like Olivia which made it easier for Rick’s plans and Daryl got close with Aaron so he’s been planning a run with him while also building a bike. Which lifted his spirits when in this place, beside her of course.

“Hey!”

Daryl quickly turns to the voice after turning his bike on and tried to fight back the smile that succeeded in shinning through when Y/N made her way over to him without too much of a struggle.

“Hey…how’re yea feelin’?”

“Better. Going on a test run?”

“Yeah, ain’t letting yea on it until I know it won’t fling yea off without me knowing”

“So considerate” She laughs followed by a smile. “Be safe. Can’t have you limping”

“Mhm. I will…and even if shit happened, I know I’ve got yea”

[aphroditeslover11]

Hi! I hope that you're having a great day/night! Could I request Lenny Miller with a younger reader?

Love Of His Life

This came so naturally, I’m not sure if it’s what you were hoping for but it just flowed out of my hands!

Warnings: a little smut, age gap, not proofread

Lenny had met you when you were spending a year in Paris, having taken a French degree that required you to spend a year abroad as a part of your study. It took some convincing for you to go out on a date with the older man, but he was persistent and eventually won you over. After he had taken you to dinner at Le Meurice, picking up the tab himself, he had walked you home and sent flowers to your tiny chamber de bonne the next day along with a note thanking you for your company. The fact that he was old didn’t mean he was dull or sleazy as you had feared, it meant that he was a hopeless romantic who knew how to treat a woman properly. The next time you met he had taken you for a picnic in the Jardin Du Luxembourg, complete with amazing French cheeses and a bottle of expensive champagne. It was fair to say that pretty soon you were hooked. Everyone always said that you were mature for your age anyway, so the concept of the age gap quickly became irrelevant to you.

A year later and you had finished your degree. When it got towards the end of your time studying in France Lenny had taken the risk of proposing you after taking you back to Le Meurice like he had on your first date. You hadn’t thought before saying yes, he put in for a transfer to be near you whilst you finished your degree and life continued in your strange state bliss.

You tied the knot quite quickly after that, getting married in a small service. His parents had both passed and he was an only child. Neither had much in the way of family, but you had agreed to a wedding in the church where he had grown up in Hawaï, though he wouldn’t admit it you knew that it made him feel close to his parents. You had the perfect white dress and he was in uniform, a hang over from the days when he had been climbing the ranks of Navy SEALs before he had been recruited into the CIA. As there were so few people you didn’t bother having a proper reception, he opted to take you to the beach where he had spent his time as a child, eating cheap burgers as your wedding breakfast and replacing the lights of a dance floor with the soft glow of the stars above you.

After this you moved to New York, he was promoted and took over a senior intelligence post, stationed in the city. He was in and out of the UN meeting with his counterparts, meeting all kinds of people. You knew he worked so hard because he wanted to prove he was worthy of you, his young and beautiful wife. You were remarkably proud of him, even if he found it hard to believe it. He was smart and had invested some of what his parents had left him into the stock market back when he was in the navy and used it to buy a beautiful apartment on the Upper East Side. It had a beautiful kitchen diner where you would attempt to cook together, often ending up in resorting to ordering takeout after Lenny decided that it would be a good idea to modify your recipes. There was something beautifully domestic about this life, it was still unpredictable but safe. Lenny refused to tell you much about his past because he didn’t want you to view him differently, but he gave up the guns and the action so he could live a safe life with you, finally letting himself rest.

After having seen so many horrible things he would want to protect you from the harshest realities of the world. You were young and innocent and so perfect for him, he didn’t want to taint that. He would never let an argument go unresolved before you went to bed. On the rare occasion that you had a proper row he would usually cave first and give you your way. He would usually be so in control of himself, but when he did shout it was harsh and loud, it always terrified you and as soon as he saw the look on your face he would cave. He could never stand the thought of you being afraid of him.

Arguments would often end in the bedroom, he would be the gentlest lover after a fight, peppering kisses along your collarbones before slowly moving down your body. He would be attentive, bringing you over the edge as many times as he could with his hands and his tongue until he had finally made it up to you. Only then would he seek any pleasure for himself, sheathing himself within you and moving so gently it would be as if you were made of porcelain. He’d be terrified of hurting you after seeing you so vulnerable earlier.

There could be another side of him in bed though. A raw and passionate one that came out after a difficult day at work. You learnt how to bring it out yourself over time, how to tease him with subtle touches at the work galas that he took you to and how he could never control himself when he saw you in just your lingerie and a pair of Louboutins. On those nights he would go for rounds at a time. Voracious, like a starving man at a banquet. He delighted in having you spread out below him, completely vulnerable to him and at his mercy. You always looked so small from that angle, he could do anything he wanted to you, and moreover he knew that you would let him and enjoy it. No matter how hard he took you though, he always ended with his head buried in the crook of your neck, whispering passionate prose into your ear and telling you how precious you were to him, how he would never let any harm come to you.

He managed to temper his protective tendencies well. Although both of you knew that it wasn’t a necessity, you found a job working in a little bookshop a few days a week, something to occupy your time. He was always anxious that something from his past would come back to haunt him, to haunt you, but he did his best to keep his worries separate from your life together. On account of your age difference, he was forced to confront the fact that there were things that you would want to do that he had left in the past, many years ago. You had a tight circle of friends that you would go with for nights out - clubbing, dancing and drinking in dives that he would never go into. He would never do anything to stop you, he would want you to live a life as full as you would have without him. Still, he couldn’t help it if he had to stay up until 3:00 am to make sure that you got home safe.

You had a beautiful life together in New York, it was something that you had built together, brick by brick. Every day he found himself falling deeper in love with you. He often said that he would probably have ended up dead in an abandoned corner of some far off land if he hadn’t had you to force him out of his ways. He pushed so hard for so long yet in you, your fragility and youth, he had finally made something to make him slow down. He finally understood the meaning of the phrase - you were the love of his life

[wobblesthecowgirl]

I'm No O’Driscoll!

Chapter Four: Lenny!

Tags: Arthur Morgan x Femreader, enemies to lovers, O'Driscoll reader, game plot, Arthur doesn't have tuberculosis, eventual smut, age difference, 18+, mild gore

Word Count: 3.3k

A/N: I hope you guys enjoy this longer chapter! Sorry it took a little longer to get out! They say drunk words are sober thoughts! But don't get it twisted, they still hate each other...

Chapter One

Y/n had gotten closer with Mary-Beth, seeing that she was the only kind member of the gang. Plus, they both had a thing for reading, so the conversation possibilities were endless.

Today was no different, the two women were sitting on a blanket under the canopy, discussing Mary-Beth's novel ideas, the dark night bringing an odd sort of comfort. An owl was hooting in the back, and small mummers of those around, when Lenny came bounding in on his horse. This was the first time Y/n had seen the boy, but luckily her new friend had gone through everybody here. He went running to Arthur and Dutch who had been previously discussing something important.

“Dutch, Arthur. They got Micah.” He panted, hopping off his horse with a small, panicked stumble. The rest of the camp were watching curiously, as Dutch, Arthur, and Molly walked over to the younger boy.

“What’s going on?” Dutch asked, trying to calm him down. Lenny continued, still not calming down, “They got MIcah. He- He’s been arrested for murder. He was in Strawberry and…”

“It’s ok, son. Breathe.” The gang’s leader soothed him, Lenny took a deep breath, leaning forward with his hands on his knees before explaining what was going on.

Mary-Beth leaned over to Y/n and murmured. “I hope he does get hanged.”

“Woah, Mary!” Y/n exclaimed, surprised at the sudden hostile sentence hushed at her new friend's mouth; she definitely wasn’t the type to throw that around with no reason. If you can piss off her, you gotta be a bad person.

“…and there’s talk of hanging him.”

Y/n turned her attention back to the scene unfolding before them. She watched Arthur’s lips turn into a playful smile, “Here’s hoping.”

“Arthur!” Dutch warned him.

“What?” He asked innocently, as if he didn’t just wish a man to be hung. She found herself giggling. Ok, that was actually a bit funny. The two continued to go back and forth as Lenny sat on a nearby table, looking distressed.

“You take that kid into town, Valentine, not Strawberry. Get him drunk.” Dutch paused and looked around until he caught eyes with Y/n. He pointed at her, “And take her with you. This is a great opportunity for what we discussed earlier.”

She quickly stood up, the pain in her leg had gotten better but still not perfect, and turned to Mary-Beth, “I’m sorry, I’m going to have to leave you quickly.” She sped-walked towards the men.

“Mr Van Der Linde,” She began, “I appreciate you being kind enough to let me stay here despite my past. However, please don’t make me hang out with Mr Morgan.”

“Yeah, why have I gotta drag her along? I’m fine with just taking the boy.” Arthur protested; a pleading look in his eye. Yet Dutch wouldn’t hear them out, and instead waved them off.

With a sigh, Arthur turned to Lenny, “Come on, son.” Before calling out to Dutch and made his way to his horse. Y/n awkwardly tailed behind him, unsure how this was going to go down. She was going to get a drink with a man who hates her, and a boy she’s never met. The men got on their horses and he turned to look at her.

“You gonna refuse my help again, princess?” Arthur looked at her, as she huffed in annoyance, grabbing the saddle and pulling herself up with a small grunt.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” He said as she finally got on, before they made their way out of camp.

“So, who are you?” Lenny shouted from behind as he followed Arthur. Y/n looked over her shoulder and smiled politely.

“I’m Y/n L/n!”

“She’s an O’Driscoll!” Arthur interrupted her which caused Lenny to grimace.

Still looking at Lenny she corrected, “Don’t listen to him. If I was, do you think Dutch would let me stay?” Lenny nodded but his face told a different story. Great, there goes my chance to fit in.

The two of them continued to talk about what went down in Strawberry as the woman kept to herself, she didn’t really feel welcomed, why Dutch made her go is beyond her. They finally made it to Valentine and Y/n realised this was the first time in weeks where she had seen a proper town. It was dark, but plenty of streetlights to keep it well lit. Some drunk men stumbled around, and shops were closing for the night. The men hitched their horses outside the saloon, Y/n taking extra care when jumping off. She could feel Lenny’s stare at the back of her head while Arthur went inside.

She followed him to the bar and found herself in between them both, most likely in case she tried to do anything funny. The men put some money down and that’s when she realised. She looked down to see her tatty clothes (which thankfully she washed recently, but still had a hole on her thigh), and no satchel.

“What’s wrong?” Lenny inquired as she sighed.

“My bag was taken when I was hostage, and I haven’t asked for it back yet.” She looked at Arthur who could only shake his head and put another coin down for her. She knew she should say thank you, but she was too suborn to say thank you to him.

“Just one or two…right, Arthur?” The younger boy sounded stressed, leaning over the counter a little.

“Course, just a drink, no big drama.” He turned to the bartender, “Can we get three beers please?”

The bartender looked petrified to see him, which only made her curious as to the kind of trouble he has gotten himself into around here.

“I don’t want no trouble.” The bartender put his hands up in defensive as Arthur groaned, “And you’ll get none from me. I was defending myself.”

Y/n chuckled; she highly doubted that was the case. He gave another coin to the bartender for himself to get a drink- which was actually more likely to just shut him up- and Lenny and Arthur continued to talk about Strawberry. Y/n was beginning to feel a little left out, chugging her entire beer to pass the time.

A stranger stumbled over to them, a little too close for comfort and smelling of booze.

“I seen a lot of crazy, crazy stuffy” He mimicked Lenny. Arthur grunted, “Will you shut up?”

They went back and forth for a bit, Arthur increasingly getting angier.

The man faced Y/n, leaning in too close which made her lean away. She felt Lenny put a hand on her shoulder and snapped at the man, “Leave the lady alone.”

“Leave the lady alone.” The man mimicked again, “Ladies have been leaving me alone for the last ten years, I’m bored with being left alone. Come with me, pretty lady.”

“Get any closer to me and I’ll knock your front teeth out.” She hissed, which only made the gross man more determined.

“Don’t be like that missy. I promise I’ll show you a good time.”

Arthur piped up, irritation laced in his voice, and fully turning his body towards him.

“Listen, buddy. You’re a charming fellow. But she’s a taken woman, and me and the kid here, we’re tryin’ to talk business. So, could you possibly leave us alone? No offense intended.” He treaded carefully with his words, as the man took full offence and began to stumble away.

“Ain’t no pleasing some folk. I was just, trying to be friendly.”

The three watched him leave, before sighing.

“I think I need another drink after that.” Y/n mumbled, Arthur nodded before giving her a handful of coins, much to her surprise.

“That’s you allowance. Don’t spend it all in one go.”

She placed a coin down for another beer, “Don’t treat me like a child.” She snapped, before going quieter, “Thanks.” He grumbled in response, getting himself another drink. As the time went on, the two drinks went to three, then four. The men were outdrinking her, and unfortunately, she was doing her best to keep up despite being a lightweight. Lenny had even bought her some, warming up to her. Arthur was becoming louder, cheerier than his usual grumpy exterior.

“You gotta slow down, girlie.” Arthur chuckled as he watched her chug another glass down. Her cheeks had become rosier, and she was definitely becoming more relaxed.

“Ay, you have to stop bossing me around, old man.”

“And you hafta stop calling me old man.” He grumbled, sipping his beer.

She watched him stumble towards the piano man and laugh at his playing, complimenting him. She found the way he was acting funny, giggling as she made her way over to him. She watched as he looked towards her, a drunken smile on his face before it contorts to that of confusion.

“Lenny, where are you?” He suddenly shouts, causing the woman to cover her ears. She looked around for the younger boy, feeling guilty for not realising he had wondered off somewhere. The lights of the saloon seemed a lot brighter than before, and the music a little louder.

“Lets go find him, Mr Morgan.” She said, grabbing his sleeve and pulling him gently. They looked around, and she occasionally asked some women who shook their heads apologetically.

“Hey, you seen my friend anywhere?” Arthur asked as a man on the stairs hinted at Lenny being upstairs.

“Hey! I see him!” Y/n shook Arthur’s shoulder and pointed at Lenny who was leaning against the banister. Arthur leaned down to her eye level so that his head was near her shoulder and ear, and peered so he could see what she was seeing. She could smell him: a cheap cologne, tobacco, and a lot of beer. She gently nudged him, “Do you mind? Personal space.” He slurred out a sorry before walking over to Lenny.

“What are you doing, kid?”

Lenny was trying to balance a beer bottle on his head. Y/n stifled out a laugh before complimenting him, “That’s very impressive!”

“Hello Arthur, Y/n. You know what, I don’t know.” His concentration was broken when the bottle fell. All three of them tried to catch it but failed as it smashed on the bottom floor. The older man laughed and patted him on the back. He turned to the woman and snatched the beer bottle out her hand.

“Now you try, Princess!” He was already trying to put it on her head while she attempted to swat his muscular arm away.

“Get your manly arms away from my head, idiot!”

Arthur continued to fight her, Lenny was holding onto his stomach and laughed, “Come on, Y/n! Balance it!”

She held still as Arthur placed it on her head… and it instantly fell off and smashed. The men laughed as she kicked the shards away from her feet. The three of them were way more relaxed now, chatting away and howling with joy. Both men were even making sure she was involved.

“Well, why ain’t the two of you ever married?” Lenny asked them both; she looked to Arthur who pouted like a lost child and moped.

“No one would have me.”

She patted his back, “It’s ok tough guy.” The men looked at her, waiting for a response, which she simply shrugged, “I’m not sure. Too grumpy I guess.”

“That’s very likely!” Arthur cackled which earned a slap on the back from her as he continued, “That pretty face is wasted ‘cos you’re so sour, like a lemon!”

She grumbled some more insults as Lenny began to dance, and held a hand out to her. She took is and boogied with him while in the background, Arthur was jumping up and down. She blacked out for a second and woke up to Arthur shouting.

“Lenny? Lenny! Come on you unhelpful woman.” He rolled his eyes and dragged her back to her feet, causing her to use him as support for a minute. She then realised the position they were in and pushed him away, as he continued to call for their friend; where they found him was on top of the bar. He was swinging at a few men who were trying to grab him while the bartender cowered away.

“Hey” Y/n barked, storming (or stumbling) down the steps with a pointed finger, “You get the hell away from that boy!” They all turned towards her, some smirking and the rest confused.

“Who the hell do you think you’re talking to, bitch?”

She felt a large hand hold her shoulder and pull her back as she saw Arthur come into view, “Nobody. She’s talkin’ to nobody,” One of the other men piped up.

“What did you say?”

“Get lost, buddy!” It was clear that Arthur was incredibly drunk given how badly he was slurring his words. She couldn’t help but laugh at his sorry state, like she was any better.

“What you think you laughing at?” Another man sneered at her.

“Your ugly fucking face!” She laughed harder, before blacking out again.

When she came back to her senses, both men were gone. She called out for Arthur, even getting a few random strangers confused for him. She finally got a lead by one of the women, “Was that the big guy you was with? I think he’s outside, ‘round the back.” She thanked her and wobble walked to the back door and opened it.

“Goddammit woman!” He freaked out and quickly turned his body around. She was confused at first until she saw the stream of piss coming out of him. He had turned around in time so she could only see how his belt was undone and the way he leaned back slightly with his hands holding…it.

“What are you doing! Use a god damn toilet, you animal!”

“There aint none!” He snapped back before finishing, and she realised she was still looking at him, so she too faced away until she heard his jeans being zipped up.

“Come on, lets find that boy.” He muttered as he walked past her and opened the door, herself right behind him. He stumbled around, thinking everyone was Lenny and laughing until the patron’s got annoyed with him. He looked around and saw her before laughing and coming over, grabbing both her shoulders.

“Got cha Lennnnny!”

“Arthur you dumbass. It’s me!”

He stared at her intently before making an o shape with his mouth and letting go off her. She looked over his shoulder and pointed, “There he is!”

Lenny heard her and smiled, shuffling his way to them. He grabbed the older man and asked, “Arthur, Arthur! What are you doing?”

Instead of replying, they had a slap contests, the whole bar cheering. The woman decided to get another drink while they did so, just in case they got her involved, and chugged the whiskey down. Her body heat was causing her to sweat slightly, her hair sticking to her forehead, and her eyes to go droopy and hazy.

She heard Arthur order a drink next to her.

“You gotta be by my side all the time?” She joked as he grinned at her.

“I hafta make sure the lady is behaving now, don’t I?”

“No you don’t. You’re not my boss.

He took a sip of whiskey, “I aint? Pretty sure I am, Lemon.”

“Lemon?”

“Yeah, ‘cos you’re sour.”

“Shut up.” She huffed as the man who gave them trouble when they first walked in stumbled over.

“Not you again.” Arthur shook his head but the drunk ignored him and turned his attention to Y/n, standing close to her side. He grabbed her waist and smirked, and she put her hands on his chest and shoved him. He stumbled but regained his composure and went for her thigh.

“Get off me!” She shouted, backing up into Arthur.

“You hear the lady! She don’t want you!”

The drunk groaned, “Oh come on lady. I don’t see your man anywhere. Just come home with me.” He tried to grab her again but her older companion stood in front of her so she could hide behind him.

“Listen here. If you don’t get the hint and leave my woman alone, I’m gonna drown you.” He threatened. Y/n couldn’t deny she was thankful, but a little annoyed that she was depending on him.

“She’s yours? Rent her for the night?” The drunk chortled as Arthur suddenly grabbed his ear and aggressively dragged him outside. Y/n quickly drank the rest of Arthur’s drink for him and stumbled outside. In horror, she found him trying to drown the man like he promised. She grabbed his bicep and tried to pry him off the man, which he did with reluctance. The stranger gasped for air, looking petrified and scampering away.

“Why would you do that, you fool? You trying to get arrested?” She told him off, but he didn’t look remorseful.

“Hada teach him a lesson. Not to mess with my woman!” He joked as she laughed.

“Never in a million years.”

They heard Lenny come outside shouting their names. The alcohol was really getting to them now. The men were rolling around in the mud, and this time she joined in with the rough housing, getting covered in the dirt as well. As they danced in the middle of the street with the younger boy throwing up a lot, they heard shouting. Lenny got tackled by a deputy as another two went for them, “Come here! You drunk fools!”

“Come on, Lemon!” Arthur snatched her wrist and began running behind the saloon. Everything seemed to be going in slow motion and she watched the way his back moved and the tightness of his grip.

“You’ll never take me alive!” He boasted, a unusual cheeriness in his voice which caused her to giggle.

“Turn right, Mister!” She laughed as another man cut them off. Arthur was laughing just as much as she was as he screamed, “Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness!” They came across a fence so he let go of her wrist and jumped over before turning around and putting his hands under her armpits and picking her up with ease. Like I'm a ragdoll!

He moved her into a bridal hold as he ran; she wrapped her arms around his neck and screamed, though she wasn’t sure what for. The adrenaline, the drunk butterflies, the running, or the fact this man was carrying her like she weighed a couple of feathers. It was sort of comforting, so much so that she blacked out again.

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

When she woke up in the morning, her throat was dry, and her eyes couldn’t fully open because of the light. She groaned before realising she was laying on something. She looked to her right and saw she had been sleeping on Arthur’s arm. The man was completely sprawled out on the grass and looked like he was dead.

“Oy. Wake up, you fool!” She slapped his face hard as he jolted awake and groaned in pain. His eyes met hers, and a confused look spread across his face.

“You? Where are we? What happened? Were we sleeping together?”

She tried to stand up but had to hold onto a near tree, scared she was about to vomit but swallowed hard.

“Don’t say it like that. We ran away from the law and passed out.” She looked around and saw they were on the outskirts of Valentine near the barn.

“Looks like we didn’t get that far. Come on, lets go bail Lenny.” She watched as the man threw up and rubbed his eyes.

“Whatever happened yesterday, that doesn’t make us friends.” He pointed a finger at her as she made a slow walk back to the town.

“We never were.” Y/n paused, “But I did have fun last night.”

She saw the corner of his mouth turn up slightly.

“Me too.”

[allzelemonz]

Boys’ Night: The Van der Linde Boys X Male Reader

Dutch Van der Linde, Arthur Morgan, Charles Smith, Bill Williamson, Micah Bell, Sean MacGuire, Kieran Duffy, Javier Esquella

Fictober Prompt: Day 31, Orgy Pronouns: None Mentioned Physical Sex: AMAB Rating: E/Smut Warnings: Orgy, threesomes, kissing, anal fingering, anal sex, oral sex, blow jobs, rough sex, voyeurism, exhibitionism, Sean’s drunken mind, marking, viagra-esc tonics, almost everyone is passed around to everyone else, Reader takes both top and bottom roles Summary: Sean has an idea that leads most of the boys in the gang to a damn fun time.

Sean, in his mildly drunken wisdom, decided that a boys’ night needs more than just poker, five finger filet, and songs. With most of the older folks and women out of camp for a special con, Sean knows his only hindrance might be Dutch. So he enlists the best sycophant he’s ever met.

“Can’t tell me it won’t be fun.” Sean grins. “All a’ us-“

“I ain’t gonna be a part a’ some invert orgy.” Micah mutters.

Sean leans closer. “Oh, really? Even if a certain cowpoke’s involved?”

Micah glares up at Sean from his seat by the scout fire, then follows the Irishman’s eyes to the filet table. There you stand, arms crossed as you watch Morgan and Marston play. And Micah might be able to turn it down, let his senses say no again, but then Dutch leans a little closer and whispers something in your ear. Micah’s head swims with lewd images of the two men he finds himself pining for in his alone time despite his best efforts.

“Fine.” He snaps, holstering his gun and glaring at Sean. “But ain’t no one ta know ‘bout this, understand that?”

Sean grins with a little chuckle. “Ya mean ‘side from the boys fuckin’ ya?”

Micah’s fists clench at his sides, but he stops himself from punching Sean. He’s in too deep at this point, half hard in his pants and more frustrated than he’s ever been. “Shut yer damn mouth, cowboy, ‘for I decide ta leave ya with blue balls.”

Sean puts his hands up, giggling to himself. “Got it, big man.”

Micah stomps off and Sean watches him carefully. The blond makes his way over to Dutch, coaxing him away from the table and back to the fire. This might be easier than he thought.

Dutch is skeptical at first, concerned about how the gang might take such a proposition. But with Micah’s easy words, Sean watches the gang leader become so much more comfortable with the idea of the gang doing this for bonding and morale.

And the word spreads fast.

Folks are a little nervous at first, shuffling and unsure. Plenty of pining goes around camp on the average day, but being given the green light is a little daunting. So, Dutch being Dutch, he makes the first move. Shedding the hat from the blond’s head, Dutch pulls Micah into a kiss by the collar of his shirt. Most of the gang watches as he walks Micah back into the filet table and lets his hands wander. Sean gets the next burst of confidence, practically lunging to kiss Lenny. John bursts out laughing when they fall onto the ground together, but he’s silenced quickly by Javier. Then Bill sheepishly cups Kieran’s face before the former O’Driscoll puts his arms over Bill’s shoulders and kisses him as if he’s been waiting to for years. It’s only yourself, Charles, and Arthur left standing in the midst of the mess, looking around at the others of the gang in various states of intimacy and undress.

Arthur clears his throat, the red of his face only getting worse as he glances around. “Well… suppose…”

You look over at him, those pretty eyes staring back at you. “You…uh, you wanna…?”

There’s a weight on your shoulder and you turn to see Charles, his other hand held out towards Arthur. The workhorse dips his head, his hat hiding his face as he steps forward and takes Charles’s hand.

“We could go somewhere a little private.” Charles suggests, nodding towards Arthur’s tent.

The thought is comforting, making your pounding heart calm a bit. Most others have simply started at their partners where they happened to fall. Only Bill and Kieran have moved behind the chuck wagon. Sean nearly has Lenny out of his pants on the ground, Javier is shamelessly grinding into John against the tree, Dutch has Micah surprisingly whimpering at the attention he gets, Charles simply leads you and a bashful Arthur away from the others.

Arthur sits on his cot, rubbing a hand down his face as he takes a breath. You don’t blame him given the circumstances.

“We don’t have to.” Charles says, sitting next to him with a kind hand on his shoulder. “Just because Dutch said it would be a good idea, doesn’t make it true.”

Arthur shakes his head. “No… I been…” He sighs. “Been wantin’ somethin; fer a while.” His hand reaches up to hold Charles’s on his shoulder, his eyes finding yours as they scrunch from a smile. “Guess I got a dirty mind.”

You chuckle lightly at the joke, happily taking Charles’s hand again as he pulls you into his lap. Charles kisses you softly, one of his hands on your waist. You gasp, pulling back slightly, when he starts to rut against you with a half-hard dick. Arthur has moved behind Charles, kissing at his neck while his hands lift up his shirt. Charles’s chest is broad and built, firm to the touch when you rest your hands on him. You watch Arthur’s hand move, twisting into your shirt to pull you forward. You’re pressed flush against Charles as Arthur kisses you over the other man’s shoulder. It’s Charles’s turn to give neck kisses now, his hands firmly holding your hips so you grind down into him.

“I want ya.” Arthur mutters against your lips. “Ya wanna fuck me, partner?”

You nod, kissing him again.

“What do you want from me?” Charles asks, his hand tilting Arthurs head so they can look at each other over his shoulder.

Arthur’s breath hitches as he looks at the man. “I… I wanna suck ya off, Charles.”

Charles smiles and that in itself is a slight. “Of course you do.”

The three of you move, hands guiding and wandering as clothes are shed. In the distance, Sean can be heard begging and groaning, there’s some curse shouted in Spanish, and the camp echos with skin slapping skin and the slurping, popping, and smacking of spit. It’s all overwhelming and you try to focus on what’s in front of you.

Arthur’s on his back, Charles nearly sitting on his chest as his dick is sucked. You’ve already spread Arthur’s legs, the tube of gun oil feeling heavy in your hand. You open it quickly, spilling half of it before getting your fingers covered and entering Arthur. In front of you, Charles throws his head back with a deep groan as his hips begin to stutter and fuck into Arthur’s mouth. You can’t help your free hand pumping yourself as you watch, your other scissoring Arthur open. It’s premature, you know it is, but you can’t take it anymore. You should stretch him more, but your dick aches in your hand and you retract your hands to grip Arthur’s hips instead.

You press into him and hear a muffled moan as Charles shivers from the vibrations it brings. Both of you still, giving Arthur time. You watch his hand grip at Charles’s hip, pulling him forward. Charles sits up, propping himself on the box behind Arthur’s cot so he can get the proper angle to fuck down into Arthur’s mouth. You start your pace, rough and fast like Charles. Arthur’s legs shake as he wraps them around your waist, his hand squeezing at Charles’s ass. You wish you could see their faces, but you can imagine. Charles’s is likely twisted in pleasure and concentration, Arthur’s might be slobbery and tear stained.

It’s Arthur that comes first, his dick untouched as it releases a flood of cum onto his stomach, a few spurts hitting Charles’s ass. Arthur’s body goes still as he whines, being used as a set of holes by now. Charles is next and you watch the bounce of his ass lose its nice rhythm as he shoots his release down Arthur’s throat. Charles seems to bury himself deep and Arthur grips his hips as he swallows what he’s given. You double your efforts, wanting to fill Arthur from both ends. You gaze falls downwards to watch yourself fuck into Arthur’s tight hole. Charles catches you off guard, tilting your head up for a kiss as he straddles Arthur’s stomach. His hand reaches down, passing your furious thrusting to fondle at your balls as they bounce off of Arthur. The heat builds fast and you release just as Charles bites at your lip.

When you let go of Arthur’s hips, he falls back down to his cot completely. Charles continues to kiss you as you pull out, smiling into it. You can hear Arthur’s labored breaths beneath you and you’re so in your own head that you don’t register the footsteps.

“Mind if I try somethin’, fellas?”

You turn from Charles to see Micah leaning against Arthur’s shaving stand. He only has his red shirt on, half buttoned, and a smirk rests on his face. Charles’s hand has yet to leave your balls and you feel him squeezing slightly as his other turns your head back to him for another kiss, silently telling you to ignore Micah.

“Aw, come on, Smith.” Micah drawls. “Lemme have a turn.”

Charles pulls back, his lips wetted and dark from all the kissing. “A turn?”

You hear Micah take a step forward and Charles moves fast. He leaves you and you nearly fall onto Arthur, only just catching yourself before collision. You look over your shoulder to watch Charles push Micah down to bend over Arthur’s weapon’s chest. A new pool of heat starts when Charles sucks on his fingers before shoving them into Micah, eliciting a moan from the older man.

“Shit…” Arthur mutters under you.

You turn to look down at him, chuckling. “Don’t think it’s what he had in mind.”

Arthur smirks. “Yeah, I doubt it.”

His hand finds the back of your neck and pulls you down for a kiss. Micah’s whimpers and curses fill the tent and you feel yourself getting hard again. Arthur grunts against you, pressing up until he brushes his dick to yours.

“‘m gettin’ too old fer this.” He mutters, blushing at his still soft dick.

Behind you, Micah gasps and you look back to watch him bury his face in his arm as Charles enters him roughly. Charles thrusts like a beast, fucking every last pathetic noise he can out of Micah. Kind of serves him right.

“C-Charlie…” Micah gasps, his voice light and breathless. “Ah! Fuck…”

Arthur hisses, his hand wrapping around his dick and trying to get himself going again. You trail your hand down, helping him stroke himself, but to no avail. After a few seconds a bottle lands beside Arthur on the cot, a tonic bottle. You look up as Arthur cranes his neck in the same direction. Standing to the side is Bill, a timid looking Kieran right behind him. Both of them are bare besides a blanket draped over Kieran’s shoulders.

“It helps.” Bill mutters, his eyes trailing over to watch Charles and Micah for a moment. “Works fer whiskey dick at least.”

Arthur looks the other outlaw up and down strangely. “Thanks.”

Bill clears his throat. “Ya wanna trade, Morgan?”

You look down at Arthur who glances between you and Kieran. He catches your nod before looking at Bill. “Sure.”

Kieran steps forward, a sheepish grin on his face. You give Arthur a final kiss before standing. As you pass him, you chance giving Kieran a kiss and he accepts it, melting into you for the few seconds it lasts. When you pull away and turn to Bill, the large man has taken himself in his hand at the sight. Your eyes catch on that motion, swallowing thickly at the size, nearly as big as Charles. You find the sense to step closer to Bill and kiss him. Behind you, Kieran squeaks from something and Arthur mumbles an apology. Bill’s hands find your hips, pulling you against him well enough to smush your dicks together between your stomachs.

Charles practically growls behind you and you hear Micah gasp again. “How’s that for a darkie, Micah?”

There’s a thud and you imagine Charles let Micah go or maybe even threw him on the ground. A few beats later, Sean calls out to Charles with a drunken shake to his voice. Bill pulls you with him, keeping his lips busy on your neck until he turns you around to bend you over Staruss’s little table. Bill fumbles, finding a tonic on the ground and pouring it over his hand before he pushes his fingers inside. You spread your legs for him, raising your ass a bit now that you’ve lost whatever care for shame you had at the start of all of this.

“Gentlemen.” Dutch greets, settling himself against the tree behind the two of you. “Don’t mind me.”

Bill’s finger’s stall for a moment, likely nervous about fucking someone in front of his boss, but he continues after a few seconds. You try not to think about Dutch watching you, feeling that same set of performance nerves. Bill fumbles more as he moves, spreading your ass cheeks apart with one hand as he guides himself inside. Both of you groan as he enters and pushes himself in fully. Bill leans forward, pressing a kiss to your shoulder before he starts thrusting. You fix your feet steady on the ground when the table under you shakes from the combined weight. Bill’s thrusts are moderate and steady, hitting deep and brushing heavenly every time.

There’s a small groan, sounding like Kieran, that makes you shiver when you think about what Arthur is doing to him. A few more thrusts from Bill makes you grip the table tighter as your legs feel shaky. Then there’s a shout of Spanish with Charles’s name mixed in. Bill’s hands wander up your body a bit, caressing your sides as he keeps up his steady fucking. A low groan reminds you that Dutch is watching and you have half a mind to look back at him, but Bill picks up his speed and you bury your face into your arm instead. Bill’s climax pumps you full, the trickling feeling distinct as his dick already starts to push the excess out with a few final thrusts.

Only a moment after Bill has stepped back there are hands on your hips. Sean pulls you to him, falling to his knees in front of you and taking you in his mouth too fast for you to think. Your hands go to his soft hair and he relents immediately, letting you fuck his mouth without question.

“Arthur!” Kieran cries somewhere in the background.

Behind you, hands grip your hips as kisses are pressed to your neck. The tickle of a mustache tells you it’s likely Javier, but you’re too occupied with fucking Sean’s willing mouth to think further. You release for the second time, letting Sean take everything you have. In the midst of your high, Javier presses inside of you and starts fucking without inhabition. His hands on your waist hold you still, his lips beginning to suck in a mark to your neck. Sean stands, grinning at you before he runs over to Arthur and all but jumps on the older man’s dick. Javier wraps his arms around you, filling your ears with mumbled Spanish that is slurred by ecstasy.

Your eyes move around camp, finding several things to admire. Bill has Micah in his lap, stroking him with one hand and fingering him with another. John and Lenny each have each other in hand as they kiss, Charles watching them from the campfire. Dutch has Kieran on the ground, fucking him roughly as he mutters about O’Driscolls but Kieran moans all the same. Arthur stares from afar, Sean bouncing on his dick as he watches the sight of Javier finally burying himself deep and mixing his cum deep inside of you with Bill’s.

“You’re so warm, cariño.” Javier mutters in your ear before he chuckles. “Who’re you seeing next?”

“Not sure.” You take a few breaths. “Haven’t seen half of them yet.”

Javier pulls himself out, causing the mixed cum to leak out. “John’s a good hole, dirty mouth too.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

You turn in time for Javier to kiss you before he heads over to Arthur, teasing words spilling out as he climbs onto the older man’s lap to replace a spent Sean. When you turn back, Dutch is a few feet away. He beckons, gesturing to the ground and some part of wanting to please your boss makes you sink to your knees without question. Dutch guides his dick to your lips and, once again, you don’t hesitate. You only get a few bobs in before Dutch clutches at your head, beginning to use you without care.

“Shit!” Bill yells, not sounding pleased. “Wagons!”

Dutch pulls you off and you turn your head to peer through the trees. Glimpses of horses, a few colorful dresses… shit indeed. Everyone scrambles, hiding in tents, pulling clothes back on, trying to clean up cum from various surfaces. You all but fall into your tent, rummaging for at least a union suit or some kind of underwear. Pants, you find pants and pull them on.

“Dutch…” Hosea calls. “What’s gone on here?”

From your tent you can see Bill hiding behind a tree, not a thing covering him. Dutch comes out of his tent, somehow fully dressed, and greets Hosea as if he hasn’t fucked half of his men in the last hour. Miss Grimshaw looks around, sniffing with a crease in her brow for a moment. She’s distracted by Tilly asking a question and you take the opportunity to grab the union suit you know to be Bill’s on the ground in front of you before running over to him in the trees.

“Owe ya.” He mutters, pulling on the covering.

You nod, turning to leave, but Bill catches your arm and pulls you closer to kiss your cheek. You give him a smile before circling around the trees, acting like you’d gone out to piss. Passing Lenny and Sean hiding out by the lake with a single fishing pole as an excuse, you sneak as best you can to Arthur’s tent. As if expecting you, a half dressed Arthur with a bulge in his pants, hands you the clothes you’d shed earlier. You dress the rest of the way next to the munitions, eyes checking for onlookers on occasion.

The camp settles, the secret kept. Everything is well and most of the boys have elected not to bring it up, others whisper and snicker about it. It’s dark when Micah sits next to you and you look at him, finding flushed cheeks for only a moment before he kisses you. It’s surprisingly soft despite the chapped and bruised lips. He pulls back, glancing to see if anyone saw before looking back at you with a sparkle in his blue eyes.

“Didn’t get the chance, cowpoke.”

[darthannie]

day ten: cockwarming with lenny miller

pairing: Lenny Miller x f!reader word count: 615 warnings: fluffy kinda, oral sex (m receiving) a/n: He falls in love so easily I love him. kinktober masterlist

Lenny always hated it when you were away from him. You were visiting family for the holidays and he had to work. It wasn’t a good mix, but it wasn’t like either of you had a choice. 

He hopped off the bed when he heard the front door open. His reaction was akin to that of a dog who saw its owner for the first time in months. His way of helping you with your bag was by taking it from your hand and throwing it to the side. You pulled him into a starved kiss. 

He chuckled “I guess you missed me too.” 

He had already set up the dinner table for the two of you. You ate after you got settled, catching up on what he’d missed during your family dinner. He told you what he could about work. 

He flirted with you like you just met. You helped him clean the kitchen and you both retired to the living room couch. Now, you were able to relax. Some old reruns played in the background as your hand traveled up his thigh, feeling his semi-hard cock through his pants.  

He tried to ignore you at first, but his eyes repeatedly shifted from the TV to you and back again. 

“Can we try something new today?”, you asked.

“What were you thinking?” He had a glint in his eye. He watched as you got down on your knees and pulled him out of his pants. You stroked him a couple of times before putting him in your mouth, sticking out your tongue to fit as much of him in as possible. 

He exhaled, “Well this is hardly new…”

You let him go with a pop. “Just wait.”

You continued to suck and lick in just the right places. When he was fully hard you removed him from your mouth, watching precum leak out of his tip. You got up and removed your pants and underwear. You mounted him and sunk down. He gasped.  He tried to buck up his hips you sat down on him. “No no, don’t move. Stay still. Just like this.”

The way you sat on his lap allowed him to be completely inside of you. It was a stretch, but you made it work. You involuntarily tensed up around him and he moaned, wrapping his arms around your waist. He rested his head on your chest, listening to your heartbeat. 

This closeness was what he was craving. The feeling of your skin against his overwhelmed him. You tensed up again and he held tighter. He wanted to move so badly, to buck his hips and fuck you like he missed you, to cause any bit of friction he could.

You moved before he did, shifting a bit to the right and changing the angle at which he rested in you. He kissed you as you tried to sit still. The warmth emanating from him combined with the difficult challenge of sitting still made your head spin. 

Your fingers ran through his hair as you kissed him back. You moved down to his neck, sucking there. You didn’t want to leave a mark, but the red spot on his neck was already forming. 

His cock twitched inside you and he groaned. His hands grasped your hips tightly and you could feel him trying to move your body. You lifted your hips slightly and sat back down. You both let out a sound, the grunt from him being louder than your whine. He seemed to have enough at this point, desperate for any kind of stimulation. 

He stuttered, “Fuck, do I ever get to move?”

You laughed, “I thought you’d never ask.”

Taglist:

@devotedlyshadowytheorist, @dxnger-dxys, @tommyshelbywhore, @quinnlilias,@madnessandobsession, @mvpr-moon, @nela-cutie, @faebirdie, @charmed-asylum, @anasanthology, @ilikefictionalmen, @akanne-aka, @no-fooking-fighting,@queenofstresss, @flwrs4aust, @mrkdvidal1989, @eleanorthemo,@ilovepeoplesdads, @00hsv, @laylasbunbunny

(If something is up with your tag or you would like to be added, let me know!)

[fakescenariosbeforesleepblog]

Will I ever see you again?

Captain John Price x Fem Reader.

You met the captain in a fancy bar in town, you had a terrible date and Price took good care of your broken heart, now you wonder if you will have the chance to see him again.

Remember to give me a ♥️ if you like the story.

Warning: nothing important, just spelling and grammatical errors.

You were sitting close to the bar, with puffy eyes, your lips pumped more than usual, you cried a lot, you were wearing a beautiful red dress, your hair in soft curls and there was a martini In front of you, you wondered why you asked for that, you needed something stronger to drown your sadness.

A man took a seat beside you, you tried to look normal but your face betrayed you.

- Hey Darling, Are you alright?

You looked in his direction and you were amazed, was very handsome, his beard already had some grey hair, but his eyes, blue as the ocean were beautiful, a very muscular body, he was older than you for sure, but that didn't matter, he was so attractive, you smiled at him and nodded.

- I'm fine, sorry, just a bad date.

- Oh sorry about that, if it helps, I bet that guy is an idiot for leaving a beautiful lady like you crying in a bar.

You didn't know if it was the drink giving you bravery or was your broken heart trying to find a way to heal.

- don't be, if it hadn't been a mess I wouldn't be here talking with a handsome man like you.

He chuckled and nodded, you left your sad mood behind, not every day you find a man like him, you batted your eyes coquettishly.

- So, What's your name stranger?

- I'm John, nice to meet you, what about you? What's the name of the beautiful lady I have in front of me?

He kissed your hand and you blushed.

- I'm (y/n).

You and John talked for hours, he invited more drinks then both decided to take a walk, you discovered that you and him have a lot in common, he told you a bit about his work and you told him about yours, then, still with the bravery to flower of skin, you kissed him, he instantly returned the kiss, was good, no one ever kissed you in that way, eagerly, hungry, desperate, but at the same time, soft, sweet and full of desire and love, after that kiss you definitely were sure all your life you had been kissing toads.

The sexual tension increased, you could feel the urgency to be with him, skin to skin. John was more than ready to continue but as the gentleman he was, he asked you for your permission.

- You're so pretty, call me old school, but I won't do anything, until I have your permission.

- I want this John, I want you.

He kissed you one more time and then he took you to his apartment, which was elegant, a mix between industrial and minimalist decorations, the smell of cigar and oak had you on pure ecstasy, John and you didn't waste time, clothes were scattered around the apartment, hands marks in every mirror, glass, furniture, moans were the melody filling the place, sweat, caresses and kisses, was a magical night, unfortunately all the good things have an end.

The next morning you woke up with a thousand calls of your friends and the guy who dated you, then you found yourself alone In the bed, you took all your clothes and stuff and ran. You didn't read the note John left you «Morning Beautiful, I went to buy something for breakfast, brb».

When John went back, you weren't there anymore, he was sad, but just like you, he thought it was just one night's love.

For months you tried to continue with your life, but the flashbacks of Price invaded you, you weren't dating no one anymore, no one was like John. You visited the bar where you met him a couple times waiting to find him, but it was a waste of time, he wasn't there. You didn't remember the way to his house, you were desperate, Where was he? Was he even real?.

You were walking around, you lived in a small town but with every step you gave the town looked more and more bigger, it was starting to rain but you didn't care, a taxi passed by your side but you didn't even try to look at it, until you heard the car stopped and a voice calling your name caught your attention.

- Y/N!?

You turned your head and there he was, those blue eyes, brown hair, beard with some gray hair, tall and muscular.

- John!

You jumped into his arms, you kissed him, you had him once again.

[mockerycrow]

So uh rdr2 reader x gunslinger ghost as a concept ? (I haven’t finished the game I’m so slack) but reader is part of Dutch’s crew and Ghost is kind of a lone merc and they meet several times over the years and when Dutch starts going off the rails ghost offers to take them with him or something.

Idk just cowboy au I guess 🤠🤠.

stop, STOP!!! YOU ARE MAKING ME WANNA WRITE AN ENTIRE SERIES RN!!!!! OFNMAKSKDKSS this isn’t exactly ghost offering you to join him, but it’s more of a beginning of the realization.

You’re sitting in the Valentine saloon, some cheap whiskey in a glass in front of you. Your chest is heavy and you’re aching to relieve the pressure—aching to get yourself to stop thinking about the gang for five minutes. Your mind is reeling, thinking about Arthur; little Jack and his pathetic father—you love John, but dear God, is he a terrible dad—and poor sweet ol’ Abigail. You think of Charles as you take a harsh sip of the piss poor whiskey, the substance burning your throat. You think of the women, Hosea and Lenny, for Christ’s sake.

When you feel yourself about to spiral once more, you hear the bar chair next to you squeak and shift under a heavy weight, causing you to look over and lock eyes with The Ghost. He’s a tall intimidating man with a half red an half black skull mask, his brown eyes trying to stare deep into your soul. He wears the typical black hat of the time, as well as a worn out trench coat, the rest of his clothing black as well, even his bullet casing belts. The saloon fell silent at his presence; usually him appearing meant someone was going to die one way or another so when he sat down next to you, folks half expected another shootout between Ghost and you, a well known member of the Van der Linde Gang.

What many of these people didn’t know, is that you and Ghost have met many times over the years. A time or two it was you standing across each other on opposite sides, revolvers pointing at each others heads—other times, simply by chance. You’ve developed a strange camaraderie with the lone gunslinger, one that didn’t require too many words to be shared. Without words you offer your glass of whiskey which you watch him lift his mask up just enough to take a sip, a heavy sigh leaving you—but your chest feels a bit better now that he’s with you.

[saintmuses]

❝𝙝𝙪𝙨𝙝, 𝙄 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙨𝙖𝙞𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙚𝙣𝙙 𝙞𝙨 𝙣𝙚𝙖𝙧❞

Pairing:

Lenny Miller x Reader

Summary:

She never got to marry, or bear children, or have a house with a white picket fence. She never got to grow old either. Even in death, she would never be able to escape from the man who loved her a little too much.

Warning(s): Death. Implied murder. Angst. Implied toxic relationship. Age gap (10 years apart between Reader and Lenny). Major power imbalance. Dark!Lenny. Minors, dni! Note: I was trying to make this something that you would read from a non-fiction crime book which includes many characters from Anna so it does not feel personal. Reader is a Russian American in this one. Also the switch between ‘Leonard’ and ‘Lenny’ is intentional. The title is from Mirrorball because I thought it was fitting of how it refers to the end of something, therefore the end of one’s life as they know it.

Word Count: 3.3k

1995

"It was something I would do, but I would've never expected her to do it. She and I were very different in that sense." Anna Poliatova, her best friend from childhood days murmured softly, her accent curled around the letters as she sat down in a chair for the interview regarding the crime documentary. She had eyes that were colored like the sky, and platinum hair, straight as spineless grass in the plains.

"1990 was something for her," she then laughed. "She met someone I never even knew about, but I found out in her diary of an early 1990 entry of a man named Leonard Miller."

April 16, 1990

Dear Diary,

When you meet someone, how would you picture meeting someone? One day, they would be a stranger to you, but they could be everything but a stranger tomorrow.

I didn't expect to meet Leonard Miller yesterday, but everyone knew of him. 

I mean he is an agent handler for Central Intelligence Agency, his reputation precedes him everywhere he goes in that workplace. What attracted me to him right away was how he eluded power and raw presence. He commanded attention as soon as he walked into the room. I had to talk to him because of my job; I’ve been assigned as a secretary for the director of CIA.

The day before, you would be doing something so mundane, right up to the moment, and that was when everything changed. I haven't felt this way in a long time, like a schoolgirl's crush on a man who is very handsome, but very off-limits. There’s a workplace code set in place for something like this. My brain had to remind myself that we cannot be more than just co-workers, no fraternizing around, but my heart didn't care.

I was never supposed to be that person.

Never.

Y/N.V.

Y/N Vasilisa—Love to those close to her due to the meaning of her last name—was born in New York in 1966 to her parents Arseni Vasiliy and Janet O’Conner.

Aurora, New York was a town where families would bloom while the others faded.

Arseni Vasiliy was born in Moscow, USSR, and migrated to America when he was nineteen and met a girl from a town over, then fell in love with her. They were married in 1964, two years before Y/N was born. "She kept him on his toes, and they made the marriage work. They had good years," his friend recalled, a brief appearance. "Really good years."

Janet, her mother was very protective of Y/N, perhaps because she was the baby, the only child of the family. They were close, close as best friends could've been.

The Vasiliys were the poster child of what family should really look like. It was a small family, but it was home.

Y/N met Anna Poliatovia in English class when she was a teenager. She came to America as a foreign exchange student from Soviet Union program. They were the duo that every girl was jealous of, and every guy wished they would've gotten together with.

Y/N Vasilisa was an honor student, had perfect grades all four years of high school, and became a valedictorian for her class.

Everything had changed a month before her graduation in 1984. Her parents died in a tragic car accident. Their slow but terrible deaths were caused by fire when a drunken driver of semi-truck crashed into them.

She moved to New York City after she graduated from high school, wanting to get away from the town that used to be so kind to her.

In a utopia world, no one would die. In the real world, parents weren’t supposed to bury their children. In a twisted sense, they made the natural order of death happen. Y/N had to bury them at eighteen.

She went to a community college while working for a company as a secretary during the week, and she would complete double shifts as a waitress at a restaurant on the weekends to be able to afford an apartment she lived in.

As Y/N struggled to make the ends meet, Leonard Miller was on his way to becoming an operative for CIA.

Leonard’s father was born in Europe in 1928, but his family moved to America specifically Hawaii in 1935, although it was not a part of fifty stars for another few decades. When his father was twenty-one, he met his wife at a shore, and they were married before finding a job as a constructor while his wife was a housewife and a mother of four children.

Elizabeth was the first and only daughter that was welcomed to the world in 1951, John was born two years later, then it was Leonard and Maxwell after that.

The family experienced a devastating loss when the patriarch of the family died of a heart attack at the age of fifty-three in February 1981, leaving his wife, children, and grand-children behind.

While the women of the family were soft-spoken, soft hearted; the men were stolid, hardworking, and they set their minds to succeed in America.

All men but one worked for a construction company that their father built with his partner. The company became Miller and Co. when it thrived in Pearl City, and the boys except one joined.

The third child of the family did not want to work for the construction company, opting to make a path for himself.

Leonard -Lenny for short- was born in 1956, the third child, but second boy in the family. He had dark brown hair, icy blue eyes so piercing that someone would feel like he was looking into their soul. He did almost everything first, he was not only an honor student, but he was also undeniably his parents' favorite son out of four children. He was hardworking and disciplined like his father, quiet and conservative like his mother.

John and Maxwell, his brothers were the opposite of it. They were the life of the party, the charmers who could work a room full of strangers and leave with a bunch of friends.

They were very much loved by their parents despite the differences in all of them.

To them, Leonard was the good brother. The one who could give dependable advice. To school, he was quite unattainable. Polite, friendly, only mingling when he had to, but he knew how to have fun as well.

When he was eighteen, he graduated from high school in 1974, and enlisted in military. It was there he was recruited to become an CIA operative thus moving to Washington DC to be close to Langley.

Despite being the second oldest brother, he did take over the proceedings of the patriarch after his father's death, but he refused to do anything with the construction company. His other brothers were there to run the business while he and his sister were there for their mother.

Before his father's death, he accepted a promotion to become CIA Agent Handler.

And he was thirty-four years old when he met Y/N Vasilisa.

"She was filled with life," Lenny said softly, fingers tracing the surface of the table in front of him as he stared down at the patterns, remembering the night he met her. "She was something else," he swallowed thickly before turning his head away, not without a hint of regret in his icy depths.

Y/N met the director of CIA when she moved to Washington DC after college, who recruited her to be his secretary in late 1989 and having the career that aligned the path of the position as CIA Operative Handler, it was inevitable.

"I remembered being there when they first met," Maud Lebereva, her friend and co-worker recalled. She had buzz cut brown hair and wide doe eyes, she also migrated to the states from Russia when she was a teenager. "He came in to have a meeting with the director about an upcoming mission in then-USSR, he had his eyes on her way before she noticed him. It would've been sweet if it was something else, but I saw something I knew wasn’t sweet." She murmured, shaking her head.

No one knew anything about them. They had started meeting at lunchtime, getting to know each other, it was harmless. Anyone who walked down the streets in the DC area would see them sitting outside in cafes, laughter could be heard from them, and they looked like they were friends, best of friends even.

They were friends for a few months until early summer of 1990 when the director of CIA had a gathering where every person must attend the function.

He had to walk her to her home that night, and that was when the dynamic changed for them. A soft kiss on her cheek, a pair of lips pressed against her skin slowly before withdrawing, and she had blushed viciously.

After that night, they weren't just friends. They were on their way to becoming lovers.

No one knew about them. They talked through phone calls that would be on the side tables, they emailed each other, and they would do anything discreetly.

He was still unobtainable, and she was still feeling guilty. Although, he had said he loved her in the summer of August at the Bahamas when he took her out for a vacation under the disguise of attending a seminar. Somehow, in her mind his declaration of love made everything seem alright.

It wasn't until late November when everything started to unravel around her. She met a very sweet man Alex Tchenkov through a friend and knowing there couldn't be any more than just an affair between Lenny and her, she went for it.

That was when she realized she had the idea of love wrong. Love wasn't about swearing an oath not to be seen, keeping the lines blurry between what was right and wrong, and it wasn't supposed to feel poisonous. It felt deadly, like a bitter taste of acid whenever she looked back to the months of her affair with Lenny.

Her friend, Anna was in Langley for Christmas, and Y/N took her out to a bar in Washington DC. Afterwards they sat on the concrete edge of Tidal Basin for a long time until the sun began to set over the capital, talking. The blonde woman gave Y/N an early Christmas gift, and she started to cry. 

 "She cried for a really long time," Anna said thoughtfully, nibbling on the side of her bottom lip. "I didn't know she was trapped in a wrecking affair at that time, but she was crying because she said she didn't deserve Alex," she remembered idly. "I was confused, but at that moment I knew there were so many things about her, many secrets that she hadn't told him, and she was really scared she would lose him if she was honest with him."

Eventually one person found out in February, it was Maud who had introduced her to Alex. She had sworn to keep it as a secret, and there were times when they would all meet for lunch.

"Despite my ill-feelings towards Leonard, he was a good person to people around him that I knew of. Figuring him out, and not being able to put a finger on why he gives me a bad vibe, that is where I can't stand him." Maud murmured; her eyes flickered briefly to the window. "I do remember one time I sympathized with him when it came to Y/N, it was a dinner at a really expensive restaurant, and he offered to pay." She laughed slightly, although it sounded uneasy.

The whole dinner affair was tense, it was to say with the understatement of the century. Y/N barely gave Leonard any time of the day, only cordially polite even it would make the worst of the worst dictators silently kneel to the ground.

At some point during the evening, Y/N excused herself to the ladies' room. When she was gone, Lenny had turned to Maud and asked why Y/N hated him.

"I was surprised when he asked me that," she paused, thinking back to that night. "He sounded desperate and sad, and it was that moment I felt bad for him.".

Maud tried to give him an excuse not knowing how to placate his emotional being, and she knew the sad pitiful look on Leonard’s face was caused by Y/N’s attempts to leave so she could be completely in a relationship with Alex. She did wonder if Leonard had any feelings for Y/N after all. If he did, it would be too bad.

"I mean I knew Y/N was irrecoverably in love with Alex, and I just felt bad for Leonard because he didn't stand a chance." Maud sighed, chuckling. The sound was not without a small amount of pity. "I just never knew how bad of a person he was to her. It's always the guys that can fool you easily, but not girls. However, she did fool me a bit." A grimace adorned on her face as she thought about it.

In the leading months, she and Alex got involved exclusively with fear gripping in the back of her mind that Lenny could ruin it all. Leaving her life into ashes if he ever exposed their affair to Alex.

"It was the one thing in her life she was most ashamed of," the brunette murmured, "but it wasn't her fault. I just wished she would understand that. However, he was a powerful man in Washington DC. He could easily ruin her life if he wanted to, and he did."

It was after midnight on July 5th, 1991, but there was a soft orange glow behind the curtains framing windows in the apartment. Silhouettes could be seen moving as six people roamed around the place restless. The fear had gripped them all after false-hope rationalizations failed to erase the tension Y/N had left them with.

Her other best friend had noticed something was wrong when Y/N didn't show up for dinner along with Maud.

"She didn't call to tell us she was running late, or anything really." Anna stated, her blue eyes glistening as she sniffed slightly. "I tried calling her several times, but it went straight to the voicemail." Her eyes flickered to the window as her lips turned down slightly. "I waited because she always called me back no matter what."

While they had waited for her, for the police, for some word, anything; they forced themselves to believe that she was okay, she had to be, the other option was something they didn't want to think about. 

Ever.

"I remembered going through her room, finding her journal, and I thought as I stared at the slim book 'God help me that I will break her private cocoon she'd set up for her mind, but if it was to help us find her then so be it'." Anna murmured; her eyes closed briefly before opening. "I remembered there was some sort of a letter stuffed in the last page she'd written."

You asked me a long time ago after we met, 'what do you want?' in a teasing manner with a soft twinkle in your pretty eyes. What I want...is for you to be happy. I love you.

"It wasn't signed, but it didn't really have to be it was obvious, and that was when I knew Y/N had been harboring a secret for a long time." She shrugged before sighing, looking away. Her blonde hair swayed slightly. "She was definitely not perfect, but she was the best of us. Despite the flaws we harbored in ourselves, she saw the best in them, and I can see why she would look past his overbearing flaws in the beginning to see the best in him even when she shouldn't. I can't really fault her for that, she tried, and she did until it wasn't enough for her." She then hesitated, "and whatever she wrote in her last entry...I knew he’d read it because I know Y/N, she would've just thrown away the letter after reading it, not put it in her private cocoon where it would ruin her peace. The letter he put in was more of some correspondence to her journal right before everything..." she then paused; her bottom lip trembled as a gasp escaped from her mouth resonating in her lungs as a light sheen glazed over her eyes.

June 29th, 1991

Dear Diary,

There were times I questioned myself, in the beginning I could see why I wanted to be with Lenny despite all the wrong things that I have seen.

Now more than a year has passed, and I'm suffocating. The leash I didn't notice wrapped around my neck on the day we met had been becoming shorter and shorter, chipping away its inches as his control became iron-clad over time.

I had once asked him when I met him, he was the guy who had it all, and he did, but to assuage my curiosity, I had asked him "what do you want?"

And it was that particular conversation that changed everything for me.

We were doomed, entirely and truly.

I can't say it wasn't love at first, for me it was, but it wasn't for him. I had only noticed after I fell out of it was when I realized we were doomed. He was an agent with a dangerous future, and I was at a different place in life.

Being with Alex had made me see things differently, it made me realize that Lenny Miller is not the man I or everyone else thought he was. He is a narcissist, a liar who manipulated everything around him including me. He was like a rose, sweet at first until I touched the thorns and that was when he became cruel. I fell in love with the idea of him and accepted the false flaws until it got to the point where it all became too much for me to bear.

He knew I wanted the chains off my heart especially after meeting Alex. Especially when I want to be free, I need to be free, but he won't let me go. I know he will never let me go, and I'm afraid of whatever that means.

It wasn't pretty, and it wasn't love despite him saying it was.

I have to get away from him before the suffocation drives me to the grave.

Y/N.V.

"I did love her. I loved her more than anything in this world, even when she didn’t love me anymore, but I suppose no one would understand." Lenny had emphasized slightly, almost bitterly. His blue eyes were steely glinted when the light from the sun hit their depths, before the mask of indifference fell into place. "The last time I saw her was when she didn't want me to be in her life anymore." He had murmured before looking out to somewhere in the room. He had said when the sun began to set, everything fell apart around them, "and that was that." He then shrugged as if it explained it all.

THE NEW YORK TIMES

Tuesday, July 21, 1992

A MISSING AMERICAN WOMAN'S BODY FOUND IN LOIRE RIVER IN FRANCE

(Photo taken at the graduation in 1984)

The body of a 26-year-old woman Y/N Vasilisa who was reported missing a year ago on the 5th of July had been found in the Loire River under the boat dock in Nantes with a bullet wound in her head.

Vasilisa’s death, according to Detective Chief Marcel Clairmont of the Nantes Prosecutor's Office, was caused by bruising around the neck which resembled strangulation before the victim was killed with a bullet wound in the forehead. The cause of death was accurate after the autopsy was completed by the Washington DC Coroner Vincent Delacour. The prime suspect for her disappearance prior to her death, former CIA agent Leonard Miller’s DNA was not found anywhere on her body, and the bullet did not match his gun serial numbers thus eliminating him from the list of suspects...[read page five for more information].