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secretmaniacc · 1 day ago

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RIDE OR DIE

Parings: The salesman x Fem!oc

Summary: Two fierce recruiters, locked in a heated rivalry over who can secure the most players, strike an unusual deal: whoever wins the next recruit gets to drag the other out to dinner. But when tempers flare and egos clash, their “game” turns into a battle of wits, slaps, and simmering tension. What starts as a simple challenge spirals into something far more unpredictable—because in their world, nothing ever goes as planned.

Warnings: slow burn, language, violence, dom!salesman x baddie oc, teasing, work rivals, kissing, fingering sex, mentions of blood, slapping, maybe something else that I don’t remember.

Wc: 5.4k

A/n: this is my first post and idk how do you use tumblr and I can’t even add warnings cuz idk what should I warn about but I hope y’all can enjoy wtv the hell I wrote, English isn’t my first language so no attacking. Not proofread. This is so bad ik.

The dimly lit café hummed with quiet chatter, the occasional clatter of cups breaking the tension in the air. She adjusted her sunglasses, a sly smirk tugging at the corner of her lips as she leaned forward, her fingers tapping softly against the edge of the table. The man seated across from her was sweating through his cheap dress shirt, his eyes darting nervously to the plain white envelope she'd slid toward him just moments ago.

"Inside that envelope," she began, her voice calm but charged with intent, "is the answer to all your problems. Every overdue bill, every phone call you're dodging, every sleepless night. All gone."

He hesitated, staring at the envelope like it might bite him. "I don't know... I mean, this doesn't sound—"

"—legal?" she finished for him, leaning back casually. She tilted her head, the smirk widening. "You'd be right. It's not. But when has that ever stopped you before?"

His mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. Bingo, she thought, watching him flounder. That reaction told her everything she needed to know.

"Think about it," she pressed, her voice dropping an octave, almost a whisper. "A few games. A few hours. And then you walk away with enough money to start fresh. No more debt. No more hiding."

He reached for the envelope, his hand trembling. But just as his fingertips brushed the edge of it—

A familiar voice cut through the air. "Amateur move, don't you think?"

Her eyes narrowed behind her sunglasses. She didn't need to turn around to know who it was. Only one person could manage to sound both smug and bored in the same sentence.

"Go away," she said flatly, her tone ice-cold.

But of course, he didn't.

"I mean, honestly," the salesman continued, sliding into the booth beside the man like he owned the place. "Laying it all out like that? Where's the finesse? The mystery? The intrigue?"

She finally turned her head, pushing her sunglasses down just enough to meet his eyes. "Do you ever get tired of hearing yourself talk?"

"Not when I'm right," he replied, flashing her that infuriatingly cocky smile.

She leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand, and gave him a sweet, fake smile in return. "Right about what? Annoying the hell out of me? Congratulations, you've mastered the art."

The man between them shifted uncomfortably, his eyes darting from her to the salesman and back again. "Uh, I should probably—"

"You're not going anywhere," she said sharply, cutting him off. She reached for the envelope and slid it back toward the man with deliberate slowness, her gaze never leaving the salesman. "You want to talk about finesse? Fine. Let's talk about your pitch. What is it this time? Another mysterious slap game in the subway? Real creative."

He laughed, the sound low and easy, and leaned back in the booth. "What can I say? It works."

"Until it doesn't," she shot back.

"Why don't we let him decide?" he countered, gesturing to the man, who looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him whole.

She turned her attention back to her target, her expression softening. "You want to trust him? Go ahead. But let me ask you this: When he disappears into thin air after taking his cut, who's going to be there to clean up the mess? Not him."

The salesman's grin faltered, just for a second, but it was enough to make her smirk.

"Fine," he said, standing abruptly and brushing imaginary lint off his suit jacket. "He's all yours. Let's see if your little sob story gets him to bite."

"Gladly," she replied, leaning back with a victorious gleam in her eyes.

But as he turned to leave, he leaned in close, just enough for his breath to brush against her ear. "Next time, sweetheart, try not to play so dirty. It's almost cute how hard you're trying to beat me."

She didn't flinch, didn't react, even as her grip tightened on the edge of the table. He chuckled softly and walked away, leaving her with the trembling man and the lingering scent of his cologne.

"You should take the deal," she said finally, sliding the envelope across the table one last time. "Before someone else comes along and makes it worse for you."

This time, he took it without hesitation.

As she left the café, she spotted the salesman leaning casually against a lamppost outside, twirling a coin between his fingers.

"You owe me," she called out, not breaking stride.

"For what?"

"For not strangling you in there."

His laugh followed her down the street, a sound that stuck in her head longer than she cared to admit.

Next day

She pushed the door to the briefing room open with a little more force than necessary, her heels clicking sharply against the tiled floor. He was already there, of course, leaning back in one of the chairs, his feet propped up on the table like he owned the place. The sight made her want to turn around and walk right back out.

The office reeked of stale coffee and carried the faint metallic tang of the envelopes they used to seal people's fates. Spotting their shared desk, she sauntered over and dropped into her chair, leaning back with a casual air. Her red-tipped nails drummed a steady rhythm against the table, a small but deliberate sound to break the silence.

"So," she started, her voice smooth but sharp enough to cut, "how many desperate souls did you con into signing today?"

"You're late," he drawled, not even bothering to glance up from the notepad he was scribbling on, "I've already got a head start."

She ignored him, tossing her clipboard onto the table with a loud thwack. "Four recruits," she announced, while sitting in the chair across from him.

That got his attention. He arched an eyebrow, finally glancing up. "Four? That's cute."

Her lips twitched, but she kept her expression neutral. "Better than your three."

The smug grin he'd been wearing all evening faltered for a split second, and the sight was immensely satisfying. He quickly recovered, sitting up straighter and folding his arms over his chest. "Who says I only got three?"

"I saw you at the station earlier," she shot back. "Your guy ran off before you could even give him the envelope."

"Ah, but that's where you're wrong," he said, leaning forward with a conspiratorial glint in his eye. "He came back. Took the bait. Easy money."

She narrowed her eyes, trying to gauge whether he was bluffing. With him, it was impossible to tell. He could sell a lie as easily as breathing, and she hated how good he was at it.

"Let's see the proof, then," she said, gesturing to his notepad.

He hesitated, just long enough for her to pounce.

"Liar," she said smugly, leaning back in her chair.

"Fine," he admitted, tossing the notepad onto the table. "Three. But mine were quality recruits. You're probably scraping the bottom of the barrel as usual."

She bristled at that, her fingers curling into fists under the table. "Quality? The last guy you brought in was a drunk who passed out halfway through the first game."

"And he still made it further than your little college dropout," he countered.

"That dropout lasted three games," she snapped. "And he made us more money than any of your recruits ever have."

"Us?" He laughed, the sound low and mocking. "Sweetheart, there is no 'us.' This is a solo game, remember? And right now, you're losing."

The word sweetheart grated against her nerves, but she forced herself to stay calm. She wasn't about to let him see how much he was getting under her skin.

"Keep telling yourself that," she said coolly, pulling out a pen and jotting down the day's numbers on her clipboard. "Meanwhile, I'll be over here actually doing my job."

He watched her for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, without warning, he reached across the table and snatched the clipboard out of her hands.

"Hey!" she protested, but he held it just out of her reach, flipping through the pages with a smug grin.

"Let's see... Ah, there it is," he said, tapping the page with the end of her pen. "Four names. Not bad. But you forgot to include the part where they all looked ready to bolt the second you left."

She lunged for the clipboard, but he pulled it back again, chuckling under his breath. "Careful now," he teased. "Wouldn't want to make a scene, would we?"

She glared at him, her jaw tightening. "Give it back."

"Say please."

"Go to hell."

He laughed again, but this time, he relented, sliding the clipboard across the table. She snatched it up, smoothing the crumpled pages with deliberate care.

"You're insufferable, you know that?" she muttered, not bothering to look at him.

"And yet, you keep coming back," he replied, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied smirk.

She bit back the retort that was on the tip of her tongue, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing her lose her composure. Instead, she focused on her clipboard, pretending he didn't exist.

The silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken words. Finally, he broke it.

"You know, you're lucky you have me as competition."

She raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And why's that?"

"Because I keep you on your toes," he said, leaning back in his chair and lacing his fingers behind his head. "Admit it. If it weren't for me, this job would be boring as hell."

"Boring?" she repeated, her tone icy. "You think ruining people's lives is boring?"

"Don't get all self-righteous on me," he said, his voice low and teasing. "We both know you enjoy the thrill just as much as I do."

She opened her mouth to argue, but the words caught in her throat. He wasn't wrong, and they both knew it.

"Speaking of thrill," he continued, his eyes gleaming with mischief, "how about a little wager?"

She narrowed her eyes. "What kind of wager?"

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "Next recruit wins."

"Wins what?" she asked warily.

He shrugged, a playful grin spreading across his face. "Bragging rights. And dinner."

She snorted. "You think I'd let you take me to dinner?"

"Who said I'd be taking you?" he shot back, his grin widening. "You'd be taking me."

The audacity of it made her laugh, a sharp, bitter sound that echoed through the sterile room.

"Fine," she said, standing up and smoothing her pencil skirt. "But don't cry when you lose."

"Don't worry about me, sweetheart," he said, rising to his feet and adjusting his tie. "Worry about yourself."

With that, she grabbed her clipboard and swept out of the room, her heels clicking sharply against the tiled floor.

Later That Night

The neon lights of the city cast a harsh glow on the bustling streets, illuminating the restless hum of nightlife. Cars honked in the distance, their headlights cutting through the mist rising from sewer grates. She stood near the entrance of a seedy-looking diner, a faint flicker of its neon sign sputtering above her. The air smelled of fried food and rain-soaked pavement, but she didn't notice. Her sharp eyes scanned the crowd like a predator hunting for its next meal.

She didn't need long to spot potential. It was always the same—the defeated ones, with slumped shoulders and darting eyes. They carried their desperation in their posture, wearing it like a beacon.

Her instincts honed in on a middle-aged man in a rumpled suit leaning against a lamppost. He clutched a briefcase to his chest like it was his last lifeline, his lips moving silently, perhaps rehearsing excuses or trying to summon courage to return home empty-handed.

Perfect.

Before she could move, a faint ripple of awareness prickled at the back of her neck. She didn't need to turn around to know who it was.

"Stalking me now?" she asked, her tone sharp but low enough to remain unnoticed.

"Just observing," came his smooth reply, closer than she expected. "Wouldn't want you accusing me of cheating."

Her lips twitched, almost betraying a smile, but she held it back. "You can't cheat at something you're already losing."

"Keep telling yourself that," he said, and she could feel the smirk in his voice without even glancing back.

She pushed his presence to the back of her mind, focusing instead on her target. With a subtle breath, she strode forward, heels clicking against the pavement, the sound cutting through the ambient noise of the street. She approached the man with the kind of confidence that disarmed even the wariest prey.

"Rough night?" she asked, her voice soft and sympathetic, like the purr of a cat just before it strikes.

The man flinched slightly, his tired eyes meeting hers with a flicker of suspicion. "Something like that," he muttered, his voice hoarse and uncertain.

She tilted her head, her expression warm but unreadable. "Well," she said, slipping an envelope from her jacket pocket and holding it out to him, "what if I told you there's a way to turn your luck around?"

The man hesitated, his eyes flicking between her face and the envelope as if weighing the risks. Behind her, she felt his presence again, closer this time. The faintest shuffle of shoes on asphalt told her he was watching, and she resisted the urge to smirk. This one was as good as hers.

Just as the man reached out to take the envelope, a hand shot over her shoulder and plucked it from her grasp.

"Now, now," he said, stepping into view with that maddeningly smug grin, twirling the envelope between his fingers like a magician showing off a trick. "Let's not rush things."

Her jaw tightened, the air around her practically crackling with tension. "What the hell are you doing?" she hissed, her voice low and sharp.

"Just helping out," he replied, unfazed by her glare. With a deliberate slowness, he handed the envelope back to her, throwing in a playful wink that made her blood boil.

The man, caught in the crossfire, glanced between them, his confusion turning into hesitation. "Uh... Is this some kind of scam?"

"Not at all," he said quickly, his tone dripping with practiced reassurance. His smile widened, radiating a charm that seemed almost genuine. "We're just offering a little game. High stakes, high rewards. Interested?"

The man hesitated, his grip on the briefcase tightening. "What kind of game?"

"It's simple," he said, crouching and slamming the folded paper onto the pavement with a sharp snap. "You use your own tile and try to flip mine. If you win, you keep the envelope and some extra cash." He pulled a wad of bills from his pocket, fanning them out enticingly.

"And if I lose?"

He smirked, the gesture sharp and taunting. "Then I get to slap you. Fair trade, don't you think?"

The man recoiled, his skepticism deepening. "What kind of twisted game is this?"

"Just a little fun," the salesman said, his tone light but unyielding. "Besides, no one plays if they think they're going to lose. Are you scared you'll lose?"

She suppressed a groan. He always did this—pushing just hard enough to make them take the bait.

"Or, you take the envelope and walk away, no games required." She suggested.

Her rival's chuckle was low, almost teasing. "Where's the fun in that? And where's the money he so desperately needs, Let him decide."

The man glanced at the envelope, then at the money, and finally at the salesman's smirk. "Fine. I'll play."

Her rival's grin widened. "Excellent.", gesturing toward a nearby alleyway. "Let's make this quick."

She followed them into the dimly lit alley, her annoyance simmering just beneath the surface. He always turned everything into a game, always needed to prove he was one step ahead

He handed the man a folded paper tile, stepping back and gesturing for him to begin. The man crouched, his hand trembling slightly as he slapped his tile against the one on the ground. It barely budged.

"Not bad," the salesman said, picking up the tile. "But let me show you how it's done."

He crouched, his movements fluid and confident. With a sharp snap, his tile slammed down, flipping the man's effortlessly.

Without missing a beat, he straightened and grinned. "Looks like I win this round." He raised his hand, his smirk deepening.

The man flinched, bracing himself, but the salesman stopped short, hovering just close enough to make him sweat. Before delivering a slap that echoed through the alleyway like a gunshot. The man staggered back, holding his cheek with a mix of shock and indignation.

"Oh my—" she whispered, flinching

The salesman, unfazed and borderline proud, grinned down at the man. "another round?."

The man blinked, rubbing his face. "don't you think this was abit painful?"

"Wasn't this our deal?"

"Alright, I'll go again," the man exclaimed, determination etched on his face. He grabbed the colored tile with trembling fingers and slammed it down with force.

The tile on the ground barely budged.

Slap.

Minutes passed, and the man refused to give up, his voice hoarse as he repeatedly asked for another round. His face, now blotched with red and purpling bruises, told the story of his futile persistence.

Growing impatient with the drawn-out game and the waste of her time, she decided to intervene. Not only had her rival stolen her recruit, but he was also dragging this nonsense far longer than necessary.

"I'll go easy on you this time," she heard him say, his voice laced with mock compassion.

"Or," she interjected sharply, pulling a thick stack of cash from her pocket, "you let me take over and raise the stakes."

Her rival's brows lifted, amusement lighting up his face. "Feeling brave, are we?"

"I just like winning," she retorted, her tone clipped as she handed the cash and envelope to the bruised man. "I don't think you have a reason to continue this."

The man hesitated for only a moment before greed overtook him. He snatched the envelope and money from her outstretched hand, shoving them hastily into his pocket. "Thanks," he muttered, practically sprinting into the crowd and out of sight.

She turned, her eyes narrowing as they locked onto her rival. "Happy now? You scared him off."

He smirked, stepping closer, his movements deliberate and calculated. "Scared him? I think I made his night."

"Your ego is insufferable," she said, arms crossing over her chest.

"Is it?" he countered, his hand brushing a stray strand of hair from her face with a maddeningly light touch. "Or is it just that you don't like losing?"

Her pulse quickened at the proximity, but she refused to show any sign of weakness. "I didn't lose. He took my deal."

His smirk deepened, his expression dripping with arrogance. "If that helps you sleep at night."

Before she could reply, he leaned in, his voice dropping to a low, velvety murmur. "The game's not over yet. Want to take his place?"

Her breath caught as his fingers grazed hers, sliding the blue tile into her palm before he pulled away. The motion was deliberate, calculated to unnerve her, but she refused to let him win that easily.

She exhaled sharply, tilting her chin upward as she crouched down. Focusing on the game, she slapped her tile against the ground with all the force she could muster.

The crack echoed through the narrow alley, but the result was disappointing—the tile barely shifted.

"Tough break," he quipped, crouching beside her, his voice a teasing whisper. "Maybe you should let me teach you a thing or two."

Her eyes snapped to his, sharp and unwavering. For a moment, the tension between them was palpable, an electric crackle in the chilly air.

"I don't need your lessons," she bit out, rising to her feet and brushing past him, her jaw tight.

"Alright then," he said with infuriating ease. He crouched effortlessly, his movements smooth as silk. With a single, sharp slap, his tile flipped hers with almost mocking precision.

Standing, he turned toward her, a mock pout curving his lips. "I guess I'll have to slap that pretty face of yours now. May I?" he asked, his voice dripping with a false politeness that made her blood boil.

Her jaw tightened, and she nodded stiffly. Before she could brace herself, his hand connected sharply with her cheek. The slap rang out in the alleyway like a firecracker, her head snapping to the side with the force.

Pain bloomed hot and fast, her body recoiling slightly as she stumbled a step back. She could already feel the beginnings of a bruise forming, the sting radiating from her skin.

Her chest rose and fell as she steadied herself. "Again," she demanded, her voice steely.

This time, she took her turn, and with a fierce slap of her tile, she flipped his. A slow, triumphant grin spread across her face.

"Your turn," she said smoothly, stepping closer.

His smug grin never wavered, even as he leaned in for his next move. The sharp crack of his tile meeting her tile.

he missed.

His tile flipped awkwardly, tumbling off-course and skidding out of bounds. A flash of annoyance crossed his face, but before he could recover, her palm came down with brutal precision. The slap echoed louder this time.

He staggered slightly, his face turning away as her hand left a bright, stinging imprint on his cheekbone. The smirk she wore grew darker, more dangerous. "Losing your touch?" she taunted, her voice mocking.

His jaw tensed, but he said nothing, merely resetting the tiles and motioning for the game to continue.

The game continued, the back-and-forth intensified, each slap a resounding echo through the narrow alleyway. The tension between them crackled like static electricity, thickening with every calculated strike. Her cheek throbbed, the sting from his earlier slap blooming into a vivid bruise, while his jawline reddened with the marks of her retaliation.

Then she missed.

Her tile spun wildly off-course, landing far from where it needed to be. The mistake was glaring, and he seized the moment without hesitation. His hand came down with brutal force, striking her cheek hard enough that the metallic taste of blood filled her mouth.

The impact sent her staggering, and this time, a trickle of blood began to run from her nose. She stood frozen for a moment, her fingers brushing against her upper lip. Crimson streaks stained her pale skin, a sharp contrast that only seemed to embolden her defiance.

She tilted her head back slightly, wiping the blood with the back of her hand, smearing it rather than cleaning it. When she looked back at him, her smirk was intact, as sharp as ever.

"What's the matter?" she teased, her voice biting despite the blood. "that's all what you've got?"

For the first time, his confidence faltered. His hand, raised for the next strike, but then froze mid-air. Her face painted with blood hit harder than any slap, and the hesitation in his expression was palpable.

Before she could press further, he stepped forward abruptly, closing the distance between them in one smooth, deliberate motion. His hand dropped from the air to grip her arm firmly, and he pushed her back against the cold brick wall.

The impact stole the air from her lungs, the rough texture of the wall biting into her back. Yet her smirk didn't waver. If anything, it grew sharper, her chin tilting upward as if daring him to try harder. His arms came up, caging her in, palms pressed against the wall on either side of her head. Her breath hitched at his closeness, but she refused to let him see her flinch.

His eyes flicked to her nose, catching the blood still trickling down. Slowly, with deliberate precision, he raised his hand.

She braced herself for another strike, but instead, his thumb brushed against her face. The unexpected gentleness of the motion sent a shiver down her spine, though she masked it well. His thumb wiped away the blood, his touch lingering a second longer than necessary.

He pulled his hand back, glancing at the crimson streak now staining his thumb. Without breaking eye contact, he reached down and wiped it clean on her shirt, the motion casual but calculated.

"Better?" he asked, his tone mocking, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

Her smirk dissolved into a sharp scowl, her voice snapping as she opened her mouth. "You—"

He cut her off without a word, his lips crashing against hers in a fiery, passionate kiss. The world around them faded as his hand ditched the wall completely, roaming over her body, pulling her impossibly closer.

For a moment, she pulled back, eyes wide with shock, breathless and taken aback as if the kiss had surged through her like electricity, igniting every nerve ending. What had just happened? How had everything shifted in the blink of an eye? But before she could fully process the intensity of her feelings, his grip tightened on her hips, anchoring her in place, and the heat radiating from him was undeniable, wrapping around her like a warm blanket.

Her heart raced, a wild flutter in her chest that felt like it could lift her off the ground. There was something magnetic in the way he looked at her, a primal pull she could no longer resist. The air was thick with tension, charged with unspoken promises, and just when she thought she might pull away entirely, the fire in his gaze ignited something deep within her.

With a soft sigh of surrender, she leaned back into him, allowing herself to melt against his body. He cupped her face, his thumb brushing along her cheek, as if memorizing the delicate curve of her features. And then his lips crashed into hers again, hungry and demanding, hungry as though he had been waiting for this moment forever. This time, he tilted his head to deepen the kiss, his tongue slipping past her lips to dance with hers in a slow, teasing rhythm that sent shivers down her spine.

She gasped at the sheer sensation, heat pooling in her core as every ounce of tension from earlier evaporated in an instant. The taste of him was intoxicating—warm, slightly sweet, and utterly captivating. Her hands found their way to the nape of his neck, fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer, urging him for more.

He pulled her closer still, his hands roaming over the small of her back, mapping every curve as if he were trying to memorize her with his touch, urging her to lift her legs around his waist. Instinctively, she obliged, feeling the strength of his body as he lifted her effortlessly. she wrapped her legs around his waist, instinctively urging him to lift her higher, to take her deeper into his embrace, their bodies fitting together perfectly—two pieces of a puzzle that had finally found their match.

The world around them vanished, a blurred backdrop to this moment where only they existed. He breaks the kiss, his lips trailing kisses down her jaw, throughout until he meets her neck, pausing to nibble at the sensitive skin just below her ear, igniting fire in her veins with each flick of his tongue and gentle bite. She could feel the tension in his body, the way he held her tightly as if he feared she might slip away. His hands gripped her hips, pulling her impossibly closer, their bodies pressed together in a way that felt electric.

When his lips began to trail again over her delicate skin, she hissed, "You can't leave more marks; they'll know."

He paused, pulling back just enough to meet her gaze, a teasing light in his eyes. "How would they know it's me?" he murmured against her skin.

"The cameras," she whispered, referring to the implanted devices on both their jackets that monitored their work. But just as the words left her lips, she felt his mouth curl into a smirk against her neck.

"Then we might as well give them a show and leave as many marks as I want." He falls back into her skin, his lips teasing the flesh between his teeth as he moves to mark her as his own. His lips pause at one of the pulse points on her neck, noticing how her heartbeat quickens and flutters. Was this typical?

He wasn't sure, but he finds himself praying it's a good thing. A chuckle escapes him as her hands grow desperate, pulling at the back of his head, stifling a groan. "Easy, girl."

"Remember when you said you'd never kiss me? That I wasn't worth it?" she teases, a playful smile flickering on her lips.

"Fuck, did I really say that? I don't recall," he replies, feigning shock.

"Just saying that because you can't make me come," she laughs softly against him, and he can't help the way a small smile curves his lips. His fingers slip underneath her skirt, pushing past the hem of her panties. He finds her wetness already coating his fingers. "Can't make you come yet you're so wet for me, hm?"

She bites her lip, allowing her hips to sway against his fingers as pleasure envelops her thoughts. Though he's unsure of what exactly to do, he has overheard other men discussing this, and he hopes it delivers as much pleasure as they say when he dips a finger inside her. She's loose around him, wet, eagerly sucking him in. He quickly adds another finger, finding his rhythm almost immediately and growing bold. He dares to let his thumb tease the edges of her clit.

He notices the way her nails dig into his shoulders, biting her tongue so hard that crimson might seep forth at any moment.

The salesman had kissed many women, been on the brink of sex, yet none had reacted the way she did. They were quick to show their responses, every emotion not hidden behind a curtain of embarrassment; yet now, despite the situation, she found herself shy about making noise. He allows another finger to push inside her, the pink velvet of her insides gripping him. He hears her gasp when his fingers threaten to curl, and he allows himself another smile. His thumb finds her clit again, and that's when her grip becomes lethal, biting her lip no longer serving as a guard for her moans.

"Please," she mumbles, whimpering.

"Please what, sweetheart?"

"I... I need you," she moans, surprising herself with her confessions to a man so dangerously psychotic, one who has killed and toyed with lives—this was something she swore she would never do. Yet here she was, becoming intimate with him, and his touch felt so gentle it was as if his past didn't exist. She can see the vein pulsing in his neck as he finally pulls his fingers out, his eyes fixed on hers as he moves his hand to his mouth, savoring her taste.

Her pupils dilate at the sight, skin warming before she realizes she's replacing his fingers with her tongue, pressing her mouth against his again. His hand falls to her waist.

Now every kiss deepens, an intoxicating blend of urgency and desire. She feels each heartbeat echoing between them. Every brush of their lips sends sparks racing through her veins, igniting every part of her being. It's primal and raw, yet intimately tender, as if they were revealing hidden parts of themselves that only the other could see.

Their lips finally part after what feels like an eternity, both gasping for breath. Foreheads resting against each other, they feel the warmth radiating from their skin, their hearts racing in unison. His eyes flutter open to find her looking up at him, a soft, teasing smile spreading across her face.

"You can put me down now," she breathes, her eyes dancing with mischief.

He reluctantly lowers her to the ground, still holding her gaze, trying to steady himself.

But as soon as her feet touch the ground, she kneels right at his crotch. "That's for not giving me a warning," she laughs, her sound teasing and light.

He winces, a mixture of surprise and discomfort crossing his features as he stumbles back. "Fuck."

She turns with a gleaming smile, beginning to walk away, glancing over her shoulder. "And now... I win. Dinner is on you," she calls back, her laughter lingering in the air.

"We are not done yet!" he calls out one last time, holding himself in pain.

#squid game #squid game x reader #squid game fanfic #squid game salesman #squid game smut #the salesman #the salesman x reader #salesman smut #gong yoo x reader #first post #be nice #i’ll cry

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captain-hawks · 2 days ago

Text

"mom, are you gonna go hang out with olive when grandma picks me up?"

olive.

you sigh from across the kitchen at your daughter and her nickname for the situationship that she shouldn't even know exists.

she grins, turning her attention back to the crayons clutched in her little hands and the piece of paper sitting on the table in front of her.

—

you enjoy spending time with oliver.

albeit, it's typically a horizontal, minimally-clothed affair found somewhere within the vicinity of his lavish apartment.

but things are easy with him.

(and nothing's been easy since the divorce.)

oliver's funny. he's sweet. he's straightforward with his desires and upfront with his intentions. he's mature in a way that often makes you forget he's younger than you.

he's a gentleman, he's charming, and he could probably break your heart ten ways to sunday if you let him.

(you've told him as much between pillows and sheets, when you're both tired and sated. when he's smiling at you softly and stroking the backs of his knuckles against your hair like he's on the verge of saying something horribly fond.)

he's a generous lover (it's the best sex of your life, you'd be a liar to deny it).

but this is all it is and all it ever will be with oliver aiku—you're under no preconceived notions that say otherwise. you know his reputation, after all.

which is why you had no intention of introducing him to your daughter—until you received a call from her school requesting an early pick up while you and oliver were in your car grabbing lunch. she was apparently feeling sick, so you didn’t have much leeway to avoid the situation.

"mommy, who's that?" she'd asked, peering at the man sitting in the passenger seat, equal parts giggly and mystified.

she hadn't seen you with another man since—

"you can call me oliver," he'd grinned right back at her.

"nice to meet you, olive!" she'd chirped.

olive, olive, olive.

it haunts you, just a little. what an impression he happened to make on her in the span of a thirty-minute car ride as you cut your rendezvous short and dropped him back off at his apartment.

how he answered every outlandish question she asked—she's nosy by nature.

how he asked her questions about school and her favorite shows and her favorite animals in turn.

the way he grabbed your phone when she started belting out song requests and obediently complied, even when you told him "you really don't want to listen to that."

the way he sang along with her.

now it's always olive this, olive that.

you don't have the heart to tell her that olive doesn't date.

it's an unsuspecting tuesday night when everything changes.

"oliver?' you call out from where you're standing in the kitchen, a glass of water clenched in your slightly trembling hands as you stare at his fridge.

as you stare, and you stare. and what you're seeing still doesn't make any sense.

"hmm?" he comes up behind you suddenly, arms wrapping around your waist.

you lift a hand to point at the fridge, where a piece of paper hangs by a magnet, adorned with a crudely drawn green oval with stick figure arms and legs. the words OLIVE are written above it, punctuated by a little pink heart.

you'd hastily told oliver that he didn't have to keep the drawing when you opened your purse to find that she had stuffed it in there last week.

"i feel like having a child's drawing on your fridge might give your hookups the wrong idea," you say, throat beginning to feel tight.

oliver's arms tense around you slightly. you can feel him looking at the side of your face, but you can't tear your eyes away from the picture.

"i told you, you didn't have to keep it," you add, biting the inside of your cheek.

he turns you toward him then, an oddly serious expression on his face. he looks almost—hurt.

"nobody else is coming here to see this but you."

the room sways, just a bit, as your knees threaten to give out beneath you.

#oliver aiku x reader #oliver aiku #dee writes #blue lock #rambling: o. aiku

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caterkinnie · 19 hours ago

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I saw that your askbox was open. If i may, can you write a continuation of this ( Reader who cannot lie is put in an awkward situation...) with the rest of the dormleaders. It's so cute kasi eh. Also, can you include Rook, Sebek, and Jade in the place of Idia, Azul and Vil. Thx

Reader who cannot lie is put in an awkward situation...

❥ ⌗ Characters: Rook Hunt, Sebek Zigvolt, Jade Leech.

❥ ⌗ Tags: not really proofread. rook being silly. sebek being sebek. jade being cute<3

❥ ⌗ a/n: hiiiiii i started this blog when i was 15 and now im 18. crazy right???? happy new year!!!! sorry if its a bit awkward. its been a LONG time since I wrote for these characters.... tysm for your request!

Oh, it's Rook's fault this happened and he knows it.

You two were just having fun, he invited you to the forest just to walk around and relax. It was the sort of activity he'd love doing with you.

The two of you were completely alone, Rook loved to show you around his favorite hidden places, places that you imagine no one has seen before other than him….

And he was happy to do so, it was something you've done millions of times with him.

imagined he was hiding something, as his smile was a little bit too wide, his eyes were a little bit too mischievous. You knew when he was planning to mess up with you.

You were not expecting him to ask if you had a crush on anyone though.

“Eh?! What… Yes you do know him but…. ahh!! Yes, he's blond, why do you ask????”

He was giggling as he asked question after question…

What's his eye color? In what club is he? Is he from Pomefiore? How good is he as a hunter.

“Ah~ Mon cheri, don't get mad at me. I fear I know how you must be talking about… although, I imagine the feelings are reciprocated… Oh, such a beautiful expression you have!”

He has way too much fun with your quirk.

In this case, it wasn't directly to Sebek…

Lilia Vanrouge was extremely curious about you, as Sebek had never shown any interest in friendships with anyone. Let alone spending the amount of time he does with you, and even hesitating when he has to choose between aiding Malleus and having fun with you!

No one else had that effect on him, and you deep down knew it but… as a human, would he ever like you back? Would he feel ashamed to love you? Those questions plagued your mind, and stopped you from pursuing the kind hearted fae…

“What? If I like him…? ah… well… he's really sweet and- and…. Ah!!! Maybe a tiny bit but don't tell him!”

“AH?!?!?!”

And then you heard a loud scream of confusion from outside the door.

One you unfortunately recognized instantly.

Lilia chuckled as the door was bursted open, and Sebek was in front of you, his face was red… he wanted to say something… but something weird happened… He was at a loss for words!

You tried to explain yourself but…

“FOOLISH HUMAN! It's- it's bad manners to speak of someone behind their back! If….. If you wished to… If you wished to talk about those feelings, you must have told me directly, IF NOT THEN HOW COULD I PROPERLY COURT YOU?”

You were trying to impress Jade, but maybe you should have gone with a letter or some kind of book about fungi…

You've never cooked octopus before, and the cooking book wasn't helping at all either!

It seemed easy in theory… but you've tried it a million times and it still is not something you'd want to give to him!

He has really exquisite tastes! And if you mess it up maybe you'll mess this chance with him…

Or maybe you're overthinking.

Right as you were tried to finish the dish (which you were unsatisfied with the presentation and overall taste) you heard a chuckle from behind you.

“My, my… Are my eyes seeing this correctly? Who are you making this for?”

“...Of course it's for you.” No, dang it!

“And why, may I ask? what's the occasion?” His voice had a confused pitch, but his smirk gave it away. He was extremely amused by your attempts.

“....I though… maybe I could gift you this and then ask you out on a date….” No!! Why did you say that????

“...Fuhuhu… You're overcomplicating it… Maybe next time we can try to do it together? I can give you a few tips as well…. since it seems you've been trying for a few days, that is…”

He knew all of this time?!

Wait, is that a date?!

Reblogs are appreciated!

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland imagines #twst #rook hunt #jade leech #sebek zigvolt x reader #sebek zigvolt #rook hunt x reader #jade leech x reader

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slimybeth69 · 1 day ago

Text

Rating: excplict

thanks to @bonezone44 for this idea- if people like this I might make it into a fun little series

Summary: After the civilized world you once knew came to an end-- the men that survived... well they just take, take, take. Growing tired of having things taken from you-- you have a hankerin' to take somethin' for yourself... and make him perfect.

warnings: reader is crazy, joel is a non willing participant-- at first. heavy on the non-con/dub-con. Eventual punishment, cockwarming, snuggling, pet names (for joel) unprotected p in v. so many more if I keep going with this.

This is just a little drabble I wrote to go along with that stupid thing I made in canva.

Oh boy. Mister-man has some big feelings, and he's trying to let you know.

He is struggling— like, so fucking hard, against his bonds that tether him to the chair by ropes that are cutting deep into the skin on his wrists.

You lean in close, pointing to your right eye, which is still black and blue, but thankfully not as swollen anymore, and frown at him. "This hurt!" You exclaim. "It hurt so bad, and you said you were gunna be nice. Why'd ya' lie t'me?"

His eyes are blown wide with fury and desperation. But he cannot scream, his voice muffled by the duct tape stretched tight across his mouth. Clad in only boxer shorts, a thin t-shirt, and socks, he looks vulnerable and exposed.

It's so fucking sexy.

He's still really mad; which sucked!

"I thought after three weeks you'd be begging me to take you upstairs, honey," you purr seductively, taking a step behind him, out of his line of sight. "Instead you hit me!?" You give Joel a good thwack against the side of his head with your open hand.

Not enough to really hurt him— that's coming soon— but enough to let him know to cut the shit. It's getting old, and now you want a fun, willing participant to play with you… and not someone who is going to act like they don't like… all this.

Joel grumbles something from behind the duct tape and it's honestly lost of deaf ears because you don't care for what he has to say right now, it's never nice or sweet. It's always mean— that's why he's got the duct tape on.

Soon.

Soon the big-dumb-idiot will be singing your name, happily, and without restraints.

He's just gotta wear something else first.

You slip the shock collar around his thick neck while you're still behind him.

He doesn't like it, at all. He thrashes and writhes, and makes a desperate, pleading groan from behind deep in his throat.

"Well, you wanna act like all them other dogs out there, you're gon' get treated like one," you press a kiss to the top of his skull, and pull back before he can rear his head forward and smash it against your nose.

He's going to try-- he always does.

Slowly, you wind your way around him, trailing a finger along his sweat-slick forehead and crawl into his lap. He struggles at first, until he sees the remote in your hand.

"Gonna zap all the bad outta you… make you perfect for me." You sigh, wrapping your arms around your neck. "Have an idea...for how you can hug me-- and not hit me."

To be continued...?

tagging people that showed interest--- @lilac-boo @gothcsz @sp00kymulderr @xdaddysprincessxx @pedrospookie @almostempty @creepycorbeaux

tell me if I should go on??

thanks to @saradika-graphics for the dividers.

#joel miller tlou #pedro pascal characters #joel miller x reader #crazy reader #kidnapped Joel #maybe dead dove #so #don't eat it #joel is angry about this yall

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wheels-of-despair · 21 hours ago

Text

I'm Gonna Love You Forever Pairing: Eddie Munson x You Summary: Eddie gets some upsetting news and has to hide out at Evil Woman's house for a little while… it's an angsty one, kids. Contains: Fear and nightmares, bed-wetting and blood, childhood trauma and abuse, comfort and reassurance, a declaration of love. Words: 3.7k

A thwap comes from your right.

You glance over and chuckle. Eddie is lying next to you on your bed, on his stomach, and his face is planted in the middle of the history textbook he's supposed to be reading.

"Are you absorbing the necessary information better that way?" you ask, turning your attention back to a battered classroom-issued paperback.

"No," he grunts. "Need a break."

"I understand. You've been reading for a whole," you check your watch, "three minutes."

He groans.

"Finish this chapter and we'll take a break."

He groans louder, head still in his book. And then the phone rings. His head pops up. "It's Wayne, he says I gotta come home right now, can't study any more."

"Shut up," you laugh, smacking his denim-clad ass with your book as you get up and go to answer the phone.

Your brother already has it. You stand in the hallway with your arms crossed, waiting for either a hand-off or a dismissal. He covers the mouthpiece with his hand.

"Eddie's uncle wants to talk to him," he says lowly. You nod, hold up a finger, and return to your room.

"You're in luck, Munson; it really is Wayne."

Instead of looking relieved, Eddie looks concerned. It's understandable; Wayne never calls here. Eddie scrambles out of bed and skids into the hallway on his socked feet.

You sit on the bed and open your book, but don't absorb a single word... because you can hear Eddie's side of the conversation.

"What? Why? No. No. I can't. I'll stay at Rick's or something. I'll let you know. Bye."

It's tense. It's rushed. Something is definitely wrong. You toss your book aside when he hurries back into your bedroom. He closes your door and leans against it, face even paler than usual.

"You okay?" you ask, knowing the answer.

His lip begins to tremble. His eyes start to well. You're off the bed and wrapping your arms are around him in an instant. He squeezes you and buries his face in your neck.

"What happened? Is Wayne okay?"

Eddie sounds like he's starting to hyperventilate, so you guide him toward the bed. You get him to sit, then kneel on the floor in front of him and hold his hands in yours. He's hunched over; his eyes are scrunched tight, his face looking a little green.

"Breathe, baby. It's gonna be okay. Just breathe."

He squeezes your hands until you begin losing feeling in your fingers, but you don't let go. You couldn't, even if you wanted to. Eventually, his breathing slows and he releases his death grip on your hands.

"My dad's out."

You've been dating Eddie Munson for more than six months, and he's barely mentioned his father. You never asked about his parents; you figured if he wanted you to know, he'd tell you. And he did, occasionally. You'd gathered that neither of them were the nurturing type. You knew they were alcoholics. You knew Eddie's mother died when he was 7, and that he came to live with Wayne when he was 8. Everything else was something of a mystery that you figured he'd reveal in time, when he was ready.

Eddie takes a shuddering breath and begins: "He was supposed to be doing 15 years. It's only been 12. He showed up at the trailer a little while ago. Wayne says he wants to see me." Tears fall when he shakes his head. "I can't."

"Baby, you don't have to," you tell him softly. He closes his eyes. "Eddie, you don't have to see him if you don't want to. You're a grown-up. He can't make you do anything." He covers his face with his hands, and you move upward to wrap your arms around him again.

"I don't want to go home," he whimpers.

"So stay with me."

"Yeah, I bet your mom would love that," he says sarcastically, pulling back and swiping at his eyes.

"She literally went to court to fight my dad when we said we didn't want to see him anymore. She'll understand."

"I don't know how long it'll be 'til he fucks off."

"That's okay."

"What if she says no?"

"She won't," you say confidently.

You don't know what his father did to him, or why he was locked up, or why Eddie is so scared, but you know one thing: if that old man comes near the boy you love, it'll be the last thing he ever does.

You move your books to the floor and lie down on the bed together. Eddie buries his face in your chest and lets you hold him tight. You lie there in silence, gently playing with his hair, until you hear your mom come home from work.

"Be right back," you whisper with a kiss to the top of his head.

When you return to your room, Eddie is curled into a ball on his side, hugging your pillow. He looks up at you with fearful, red-rimmed eyes. You ease back onto the bed, lying down to face him, and reach out to tuck his shaggy hair behind his ear.

"Mom talked to Wayne," you tell him quietly. "He thinks staying here for a few days is a good idea, too. Said he'd bring you some stuff on his way to work. Is that okay? Will you stay?"

"Do you really want me?" he asks, his voice barely a whisper.

"Of course I do," you smile. You gaze into his big brown eyes and feel your heart swell. "I'd keep you with me all the time if I could." You kiss his the tip of his nose. "Oh, and Mom says she's making lasagna for dinner, in honor of getting our very own Garfield."

He snorts.

Eddie follows you into the kitchen when it's time for dinner like he usually does. He stays to eat with you several times a week anyway, so nothing feels at all out of the ordinary.

Until he nearly jumps out of his skin when someone knocks at the door. You place a hand on his leg under the table when your mom goes to answer it.

You both let out a quiet sigh of relief when you see Wayne step inside. He follows your mom into the kitchen, carrying a brown grocery bag and Eddie's Sweetheart.

"Can you spare a few minutes for dinner, Wayne?" your mom asks.

"No, ma'am, just came to drop off some stuff for the boy on my way to work."

Eddie gets up to take his things from his uncle.

"Talk to you outside for a minute?" Wayne asks.

"Yeah." Eddie sets his bag and other lover aside and follows Wayne outside. You stare at the door nervously while your mom packs a meal in Tupperware for Wayne to take with him.

When they return, Eddie looks shy, like a kid who's been coached on how to thank relatives for a gift he didn't really want. He takes his seat, and Wayne hovers in the doorway.

"Thank you again for takin' him in, ma'am. He gives you any trouble, you give me a call."

You smirk. Eddie blushes furiously and refuses to look in your direction.

Your mom laughs warmly. "Please. Eddie's never any trouble. We're always happy to have him." She hands the Tupperware container to Wayne. "Take this."

"Ma'am, I--"

"Take it." You're pleased to see that the Don't Argue With Me Voice works on grown-ups too.

"Thank you, ma'am."

Now Eddie's the one smirking, and Wayne's the one blushing.

"Alright," Wayne rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, "I gotta get goin'. Thank you again, ma'am. Call if you need anything. And you?" Eddie looks up to see his uncle pointing at him. "Be good."

Eddie nods, and Wayne leaves with his Tupperware meal.

The rest of dinner passes uneventfully, and afterwards, you and Eddie pick up the Wayne-delivered goods and return to your room to pretend to finish your homework.

"Where can I…?" Eddie spins around in the middle of your room, looking for a safe place to stash Sweetheart.

"Anywhere you want," you smile, placing his bag of clothes in your desk chair and dropping onto the bed. "Mi casa es… Sweetheart's casa?"

He settles her in a corner, then comes to join you on the edge of the bed. He lets out a sigh that it seems like he's been holding for hours. You wrap an arm around his back and rest your chin on his shoulder.

"You okay?"

"Yeah." He leans against you. "Wayne thinks he'll fuck off in a few days. Most of his old buddies are either dead or locked up. He's staying at the shitty motel by the laundromat. Wayne says he'll probably go back to my grandma's when he runs out of money."

"You have a grandma?" you ask.

Eddie waits a beat.

"That's what you got out of that?"

"You've never mentioned her."

He shrugs, making your head bob with his shoulder. "Didn't like my mom. Didn't like me. Don't know much about her."

"What's Wayne think about him being back?"

"Same thing I do. Wish he'd get hit by a fuckin' truck."

You're rubbing your hand up and down his back when a voice calls from the hall.

"I'm watching Dawn of the Dead, if you losers wanna quit sucking face long enough to enjoy some real entertainment."

You lift your head from Eddie's shoulder. "Wanna?"

"Does it mean I don't have to finish my history homework?" he asks hopefully.

"I was gonna skim the chapter and summarize for you anyway."

"Fuck yeah," he grins.

You head to the living room, get comfortable on the couch, and lose yourselves in zombieland for the next two hours. Not what you would've picked for a soothing distraction from a horrifying reality, but it seems to work for Eddie.

He seems calmer as you get ready for bed. You stand together at the bathroom sink to brush your teeth, letting the toothpaste dribble out of your mouths and growling like zombies at each other in the mirror.

This is, of course, when your mother walks by to say goodnight: When you've both got toothpaste dripping off your chins.

"I don't even want to know," she shakes her head, trying and failing to conceal her smile. "Everything's locked up, I'm going to bed." She doesn't usually announce that everything's locked up, but you appreciate her trying to pass it off as normal for Eddie's benefit.

"G'night," you both gurgle through your foam-filled mouths. She lightly smacks her own forehead with her palm and walks away laughing. You lean forward to spit and grin at each other in the mirror.

Once the lights are off and you're in bed, Eddie practically crawls on top of you. You hold him tight and stroke his hair, finding that one spot on his scalp that's been known to knock him out. It works. You hope his dreams are much happier than his reality as you begin to drift off to the sound of his steady breathing.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, shit, fuck."

You open your eyes to a strange chant and suddenly remember that Eddie is supposed to be with you. You can't feel him. You roll out of bed and turn on the lamp. He's kneeling on the mattress, hair a mess.

"Turn around," he orders. "Don't look."

"Eddie, what's going on?"

"Turn around!"

You're in such a panic, you can't just turn your back on him. Your eyes drift from his frantic eyes to the wet spot he's trying to shield with his body. When your eyes meet his again, he crumbles.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry," he cries.

"Babe, it's okay," you begin.

"I'm so fucking sorry, just let me get my shit and I'll go," he continues.

"Eddie, would you stop?"

"I wish I was fucking dead, I'm so fuc--"

"Eddie! Stop!" Your sharp tone scares him enough to make him stop rambling.

You step toward a corner of the bed and pull the sheet back to reveal what's underneath.

"Look. Mattress pad. Easy fix. By morning, we can pretend it never happened."

He looks from the white corner of the fabric to you, and then back again. His mouth opens and closes several times.

You lean against your dresser and speak softly, resisting the urge to close the distance and embarrass him further. "You're aware that I hemorrhage for a significant amount of time every month, right?"

He nods.

"Sometimes I bleed through. My last mattress looked like such a murder scene, Mom was afraid to transport it across state lines. It's not a big deal. I go through this all the time."

He sniffs.

"Why don't you go hop in the shower? Just put your clothes in the hamper, and I'll throw a load of laundry in."

He starts to protest.

"Nobody'll suspect a thing," you cut him off before he can even begin. "I go through this at least once a month. It's practically expected of me. Nobody'll know."

He looks downward, and you let him consider his options.

"Can you turn around?" he asks quietly.

"Yep."

You turn your back and hear him rustling through his paper bag, and then hear the door open and close. You strip the sheets - only the bottom sheet had any traces of his shame - and ball them up.

You weren't lying; this does happen occasionally. Perhaps not as often as you implied, but enough that nobody would raise an eyebrow at the washing machine going at 3 am. You clean the spot on the mattress pad, change the sheets, re-make the bed, and grab clean pajamas. You'll throw your current ones in with the load, to support your 'It Was Me' story, should anyone question it. (They won't, but it would probably make Eddie feel better.)

"Did any get on you?" He'd crept back into your room so quietly, you hadn't even noticed him. He's eyeing the fresh stack of pajamas you've placed on top of the dresser.

"Nope," you smile, turning around. "Figured we could do with a complete re-set. I'll be right back."

You grab the sheets in one hand and your pajamas in the other, and head to the bathroom to collect Eddie's clothes.

Four minutes later, you return to your room. Eddie is sitting on the floor, leaning against your dresser, his knees to his chest. You sit next to him, but not close enough to touch him. Not yet.

"Please don't beat yourself up over this," you beg. "It's not a big deal."

"Fucking embarrassing."

"Eddie?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

He doesn't respond. You stretch your legs out in front of you, cross your ankles, and get comfortable.

"You know I'm gonna marry you one of these days, right?"

Still nothing.

"What do you reckon our life expectancy is? I figure we've got what, maybe 50 years ahead of us? That's a lot of time."

You place your hand on the floor between you, palm up, to see if he'll take it. He doesn't.

"I'm gonna love you forever," you inform him. "Sickness, health, weird haircuts, awful tattoos, all that jazz. I will love you if you suddenly develop a fondness for Madonna or disco dancing. I'll even love you if you become that guy who brings an acoustic guitar to parties and expects everyone to sit around and listen to him. Actually, maybe not with that one. Please don't be that guy." You pause, hoping for a laugh. When it doesn't come, you clear your throat and continue. "Point is, there's almost nothing that could make me stop loving you. This, right here? Doesn't change a thing. I fucking love you. Get used to it."

He lets it sink in, and then he sighs. Finally, he reaches for your hand. Your fingers lace together. You look over at him, and he slowly meets your eye.

"I fucking love you too."

"You better, Munson," you wink.

He smiles a tiny smile.

"Ready to go back to bed?"

He hesitates and asks, "Can I go out and smoke first?"

"Baby, you're a refugee, not a prisoner. You don't have to ask permission to leave."

"Right," he groans, hauling himself off the floor. He holds out his hands to help you up, and you take them.

"Do you want company, or do you need a minute?" you ask once you're standing.

He shrugs, looking at the floor.

"Because that's okay," you smile, reaching up to brush his hair out of his face.

"What's okay?"

"Needing a minute," you explain. "I just announced my intention to lock you down forever. We're probably gonna occasionally need a minute to ourselves."

"You can come with me," he whispers, kissing your forehead.

You follow him to the back door, put on your jackets and shove your feet into your shoes, and step out into the darkness. You sit next to each other on the porch steps, resting your head on his shoulder and huddling together for warmth as Eddie smokes in silence. It's pretty peaceful out tonight. The black sky is cloudless and dotted with stars. The air feels clean and crisp. Eddie's body provides just enough heat that you're not too bothered by the cold.

He seems calmer after he smokes his cigarette down to the butt, but he uses the tip to light another. It's going to be a long night. You press your fingers between your thighs, starting to feel the chill set in.

"You know the Speedway just this side of the county line?"

A run-down gas station with a cracked parking lot and a flickering neon sign comes to mind. Yeah. You know of it, but you've never been in. Gareth had suggested dropping in for snacks once when you passed by, but Eddie had said everything in there was overpriced and kept driving. You hadn't thought anything of it at the time; you and Eddie are 7-Eleven people, after all.

"Yeah," you whisper.

Eddie pauses so long, you wonder if he's reconsidering telling you whatever he was about to reveal.

"We were on a beer run," he says eventually. "Dad was already hammered. Ran over our mailbox and took out the neighbor's trash can on the way out. Swerved all over the road. I used to think it was fun, riding like that, but looking back I'm surprised nobody died." Eddie stops to take a long drag. "I stuck a pack of Sno-Balls under my shirt while Dad was paying for his beer. You know, those pink coconut cakes?" He glances at you for confirmation, and you nod. "The thought of those things makes me sick now. But when you're that hungry, they look fuckin' amazing. Anyway, the cashier spotted me and said something. Dad's face… I mean, it was already red from the drinking. But it looked like his head was going to explode. Eyes poppin' out of his head, vein throbbing in his neck. He grabbed me by the hair and just started whalin' on me, right there in the middle of the store. I heard people yelling, but I… I kinda just scrunched my eyes shut and waited for it to be over, like I always did. And then when I opened them again, Hop had the old man pinned to the floor."

Eddie sniffles and drags his sleeve across his face.

"I know you've never seen my dad, but he's not a big guy. Hopper could've fucking demolished him. But Hop had a busted lip. Blood just dripping out of his mouth and onto the old man. Sometimes I wonder… if maybe Hop let him get a swing in just 'cause he knew that's what it would take to finally put him away. And it did. He got 15 years for assaulting a cop."

A tear streaks down your cheek, and a smile tugs at your lips.

"Took three guys to haul Dad off. Still kicking and screaming. At me, at Hop, I dunno. But Hopper's the one who took me to Wayne's. Bought me a hot dog to eat on the way, and I think it might've been the best fucking thing I've ever eaten. Even with the sore jaw the old man gave me for getting caught. He always said to never trust a cop, but Hop… he's saved my ass more than once. I guess…" Eddie stubs out cigarette #2 and chuckles. "I guess if you have to leave me for somebody, Hop's a decent choice."

You knock your knee against his, lifting your head off his shoulder to look at him. His eyes are shiny and tear-filled in the moonlight. Is it a crime to think he's beautiful like this?

"What can I say?" you grin. "I've got great taste in men."

Eddie snorts, shakes his head, and stands. He offers you his hands, and you take them and let him help you off the steps. When you stand, he pulls you in for a hug.

"Thanks," he mumbles into your hair. "For tonight. For everything."

You feel like something needs to be said, but you can't find the right words. Instead, you hold him tight and kiss the side of his neck. He melts into you. You stand there, stuck together on your back porch, until a shiver rips through your body.

"Jeez, make us stand outside in the cold all night and get sick, why don't ya," Eddie grumbles, pulling away and putting his hands on your shoulders. He turns you around and pushes you toward the door. "Get inside where it's warm, you crazy woman. You've gotta take care of me for the next 50 years, you don't get to check out early."

You laugh quietly and let him push you inside. You silently shed your jackets and shoes and return to your bedroom, snuggling into your clean sheets and holding onto each other for warmth.

Four days later, Wayne stopped by to tell Eddie that his old man was back in jail where he belonged. Unable to resist the sight of the bar across the street from the shitty motel he was staying in, he'd wandered over, drank too much, and picked a fight with the guy on the stool next to him...

Who happened to be an off-duty Indiana State Trooper, visiting Hawkins to have a drink with an old friend named Jim Hopper.

#writings of despair #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x evil woman

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noxturnalmoth · 3 days ago

Text

What Could Have Been

Silco, the Eye of Zaun, the Industrialist, was first and foremost a son of Zaun who wanted his motherland free. After an altercation in which his adopted daughter shot him in a fit of rage, he is left dying while the world goes on without him. His life's work and ideals soon trampled to nothing as his memory fades from the world. But what if he was saved?

Chapter 5: Children of Zaun

That night was strange. It had been nearly a decade since you shared a living space with someone yes, yet you adapted, but with Silco in your bed you felt restless. Not that his presence was making you uncomfortable, you just have never been so close to someone during this vulnerable moment, and if you had to choose you'd rather your partner be Silco than anyone else. And although you two had entered a rhythm, the boundary of sharing a sleeping space was never crossed, which made everything feel all the more intimate and domestic after the heart to heart the both of you shared that evening. Yet this was the best choice, you had left Silco your bed for months so he could heal and have a private space, then he gave if back to you so you could rest from your hectic life and dealt with the pain of couch rest until now, you two definitely deserved good rest without compromises.

You also feared that you'd be a bad bed partner due to your nightmares, thrashing, sweating and mumbling in your dreams before waking up with a scream. So, with you back turned to him you faced the wall, eyes wide open as you try to make sure he can rest, breath muted, your fidgeting body calmed.

"Rest."

"I can't."

Silco shifts, turning towards you before his hand takes the blanket covering you both and tucked it beneath your chin.

"Is this about your nightmares?"

So he knew, you nod. Just like you knew about his, bated breaths welcoming you from your nightly rebellion that led you up the stairs only to find him thrashing in your bed, not knowing what to do other than to softly lend him words of support as he slept before going to crash on the couch yourself. It happened many times, yet you didn't find it in yourself to ask, yet now that you knew the reason behind his nightmares you found the courage.

"You haven't been sleeping either, have you?"

"Not used to the proximity."

"Me neither.." You yawn out, exhausted but unable to sleep. "But I don't know what to do."

And you turn towards him, your eyes finding his in the dark and you huff out a small laugh, a sigh of his own heard harmonizing with you.

"Something I used to do when Jinx couldn't fall asleep was to brush her hair with my fingers."

"That's adorable."

"And it was all that could calm her down along with staying near me, sleeping on the couch in my office or in my bed if I went to sleep."

"That's even more adorable." He smacks your cheek gently to chastise you. "So what...I'll do yours and you do mine?"

"I'm going on the couch."

"No!" You shuffle as he does, catching his wrists in your hands and he huffs. "I can't let my favourite senior citizen hurt his back, who will help me at the shop if you're not here?"

His hand suddenly rests heavily on your hair and ruffles it, making you kick and smack at him weakly to "fight back".

"I'll be the last senior citizen you know if you keep that up, birdie."

"Birdie? I'm just a weak little fuckass bird?"

He chuckles. "Yes. I could've put it more elegantly, but your words have more impact I fear." And you laugh along, settling in a more comfortable position again, as does he with his hand still on your head.

Yours slowly reached up to his. Hand raking through the softer, wavier and longer strands, much more healthy than they had been when he first came in and with a bit more silver swirling in the ink black hair. His hand begins to move in similar patterns, scratching at your scalp softly, your eye drooping at the comfort of the warmth and motion, heart fluttering warmly at the ministrations.

"Shit, it might just work."

"Once more, goes to prove you're still just a kid." His voice teases, lowly and slowly as if your touch got him sleepy too, yet as you yawn and he chuckles, you can't help but feel like he's holding out better than you.

"Bite me gramps." Another yawn forces itself out of your mouth, eyes unable to open even if you wanted them to. And it wasn't long before you fell into deep sleep, your hand in his hair stilling, and when you awake due to a nightmare so does he from your movement. His hand back to caressing your hair, an arm around you to bring you to his chest, his warmth and movement making the paintful visions and sounds ebb away as it plunges you back into sleep. Yet as you wake up the next morning snuggling up to Silco, you realize he hasn't taken your hand away from his hair, and your arms from around him, his in the same place as they were when you first woke up.

"Who knew you were a cuddler?"

"Shit, my bad Silco." You take yourself away and shuffle back a bit in bed, refusing to leave its comfort yet creating a bit of distance between you and your friend.

Friend.

He is your friend. Him, Silco. Last night's memories are enough to have you purse your lips in order to hide a small smile. The soft voices talking of darkness in the silent evening, Piltover's lights overseeing you two from afar. The cold water freezing you from your legs to your head as you walk in the river and dip yourself, your proximity to Silco providing a bit of warmth to counter the bite of the Pilt. The soft laughs and banter shared on the way back, as if that baptism has truly shed your friend of his past like a snake stuck in his own skin finally freeing itself. In a way, you felt like a changed woman aswell, a lot of the doubts you felt around Silco now gone, replaced by the velvety smooth feeling of something new within your heart, the empty space left behind by the world now filled with one single thing.

Friendship.

Warm and beautiful like the soft crackling of flames. You hoped he felt the same, but with how his lips pursed similar to yours and his eye crinkled on its side, you knew he did. Albeit that domestic moment and the soft yet unfamiliar feeling of a blossoming friendship made last day worth it, after the strike team visited Zaun you knew things would only get worse.

And indeed, they did.

Within the span of two weeks enforcer outposts had been put in each level of Zaun, forcing people to identify themselves in order to pass through. Walls were put up to separate zones and neighborhoods, and small enforcer stations were around the corners of each important sector. Enforcers were ruthless and violent, now aided with Noxian soldiers around each corner, their cruelty knowing no limit. Their policies, or rather Piltover's policies, were thoroughly carved into Zaun and people quickly grew restless.

Your already limited freedom had been all but destroyed.

Clients had said Caitlyn Kiramman was at the head of all of this, Mel Medarda nowhere to be seen yet her mother Ambessa stoking the flames of war. Appearing everywhere a conflict was and somehow always making the best of it. It was not that surprising as she was Noxian, yet something foul felt at play here, it reeked of opportunism and schemes.

Speaking of schemes, more people came in with information, desperate to have someone do something about the growing injustice and civil unrest, and you were but one woman. And after a couple of months, you found yourself preparing to go for yet another restless night.

"Let me join you."

You turn around, coat in hand as you're about to leave to wreak some havok on some of the navy collared wardens that invaded your home. Your head tilts and eyebrows furrow at him in question.

"You've been leaving earlier and coming back later, working then fighting. I help you plan but you're all alone in those missions otherwise, so let me help."

"You want to fight?"

"Yes. When have I stopped fighting? The combat was just a different one, and now my friend needs me and I can't let her run herself into the ground." He puts his own coat on, sauntering towards you before unlocking the door, a hand splayed on the small of your back to make you move forward, the warmth sipping through your clothes and into your skin and making your stomach flutter. "Let's go, we've got some mayhem to cause, birdie."

You scoff, yet a smile grew on your face at his words. "Sure thing, fossil."

You two slipped in the streets, one with the shadows and silent like an owl's flight.

"What do you plan on doing then?"

"Explode barrels all around the entire zone to make enforcers leave their posts. Pillage their stations of important files, break their weapons, and leave them with a little gift." You reach into your bag for a grenade. "We'd link that to a trip wire. I took a page from your daughter's proverbial book and made a color bomb."

His eye widens and his lips purse as he swallows, his hands cradling and tracing the object.

"Why?"

"Well she's pretty good at pissing people off, and she's also your daughter. I guess I wanted to kinda remind you of her, pay homage."

His lips twitch for a millisecond and the corner of his eye softens.

"It stains indefinitely." You say maliciously, your voice dropping to a conspiratory whisper as you get closer to him. "And it's a stink bomb."

His chest jumps as he silences a laugh, the cold ocean of his teal iris warmed by mirth.

"Unwashable?"

"Oh they'll need to burn their uniforms and order new ones to get rid of the color and stench. Picked blood red, for symbolism."

He nods, smirking at you from his shoulder and you two separate, lighting bins on fire and shooting guns in dark alleyways to call forth the attention of enforcers, slipping past them. On your path you find yourself surrounded by a handful of Noxian soldiers, their armors thick red riddled with cracks, their stance strong yet too rigid against a Zaunite fighter such as yourself. Silco climbs up a gutter to get access to a roof as you get ready, stance low before you lunge at them like a feral animal, flipping and bouncing between them and the walls, delivering kicks and punches as you make them exhaust themselves. Their thick armors slowing them, and yet they have grazed you a few times with their blades, bruises blooming where they grabbed and hit you, they were indeed fearless and strong. With a few well placed kicks and punches you find yourself disarming one of them, the huge knuckle knifes knocked out of their hands, and you smirk while picking them up as you've found yourself turning the wheel in your favor. The weapons were hefty and could slice through bone, the blades half your height, and their power sensed from only wielding them. But as the enemy approached you had to stop admiring the craftsmanship and get back into position, the blades creating sparks as you ran at your adversaries. Each hit and slash given now had their strength multiplied, the heft of the knives and knuckles giving you extra speed on downward attacks aswell as more weight behind each attack, the blades helping with defence and offence as the knuckles were of aid to break their own weapons, disarm and deliver punches that rattled the big suits of armor. After a while, and although you were battered and bruised, you smiled and motionned to Silco that the way was clean, the man's eye widened as he raked his hand in his hair. Groaning as he realized his hair was not short anymore and redid the half bun he made to keep his short bob away, the same strands escaping the updo to lay on his left side in some sort of half bangs.

"Not used to the long hair anymore?"

"It has been close to a decade since I last had it this long." His arms cross in front of his chest.

"And why did you let it grow? Change of style?" He shrugged nonchalantly before kicking at one of the dead bodies laying on the ground.

"I suppose. A reminder of my youth perhaps?" He crouches, picking a weapon and huffing at the weight muttering about how unpractical it was before looking over his shoulder. "Are you complaining?" You furrow your eyebrows, mouth moving to open before he gets back up, sauntering towards you with a smirk. "Because I remember you saying that I'd look 'hot' with my hair long."

You groan, pushing at his shoulder before placing your newfound weapons in your belts on each side of your hips. "Prick."

"Keep on telling yourself that, my dove."

You started to walk away, stomach fluttering and face warm as you hurried the both of you to the station. You both arrive there, ridding yourselves of the couple of enforcers left in the station before beginning your heist.

"What are we looking for?" Silco was looking through a file cabinet while you were reading reports and notebooks at the sargent's desk.

"Plans for attacks, next orders, interesting observations, blackmail fuel...anything that feels right." And with that he nods and silence overtakes you two, the only sounds being drawers pulled open and close and pages turned. Books, files, schematics and such stuffed in your bad before you detonate a shrapnel grenade in the armory, the tripwire stain grenade set from the inside before you escaped through the window.

Sitting on a roof far away, panting softly, you hear the huge explosion, blood red smoke escaping the station while people around gather in shock and horror. Soon enough the screams of terror were replaced by disgusted wretching from the enforcers, not used to the smell of condensed sump water, chemicals and rotten food. A smell that wasn't all too uncommon here in Zaun. And as you begin snickering you lay on your back, looking at the metal sky now dyed red with smoke, its tendrils reaching high as if to touch Piltover.

"Wanna do more?" You ask, voice uneven and eyes trailing to a smiling Silco, teeth visible and eye scrunched in amusement and something much softer that made your heart pinch just a little.

"You don't even have to ask, my friend."

And so your night and many others were spent sabotaging stations. Your ministrations moving to outposts soon enough. The same gut wrenching acrid, rot smells and blood red staining the map at different spots, metal fences and stations looking like they were doused in blood. And metaphorically they were as you stained more of the town red, you were dying enforcers with the color of your people's blood, the trenchers that have been persecuted and ruined by the elite under their gilded rule. The gold too pure to rot yet beneath the surface it was festering like a wound that would never close, a wound that they'd inflict over Zaun so that it feels the weight of Piltover's power, so that it takes the blame for its sister's corruption. And as months passed, your influence grew, both you and Silco working in perfect tandem to not only provide for your fellow Zaunite, but also to attack the enemy. Using the information head in the street or from clients and neighbors aswell as the stolen files, you two become sharper, more vicious, yet keep the same vigilence and accuracy in all of your excursions. The ever growing civil unrest fueling your fire as you hear more and more people praising your work, the rebellion that you had feared would take over Silco again was bringing you two closer and making you work better than ever. He imparted his wisdom, his knowledge of all about Zaun to you while you made weapons and other trinkets that would help in missions and fought off the Noxians getting in your way, the both of you sharing brain and brawn equally to tire the Piltovan forces, exhaust them mentally, make them unstable and messy.

Your paths and planning were always randomized so that the enforcers would never catch onto you, and as time passed you would see more red smoke than your own each nights, the smell as horrid as your own bombs. So sometimes you wouldn't even work in sabotaging enforcers again, you'd watch the Sump and Entresol burst in red smoke from the rooftop of your appartment building, a tumbler of whiskey in hand as you read and annotate the files you stole. During the day you'd hear whispers about the Children of Zaun coming back when the Undercity needed them the most, the name making Silco freeze yet after looking at him and observing a nostalgic and profoundly sad look in his eye, he smiled. His eye shut as he shook his head, the small huff of a laugh leaving his nose. And after a month or two of observing, you even followed those people, tailing them unbenknownst to them and watching them work. You two would be taking note of every different rebel working as a copycat, how they moved, how much time they took and their paths until you delivered all of them a note at each and every one of their domiciles.

You have been helping us fight the good fight against Piltover's elitist law.

Under this cruel dictature you've fought alongside us.

Rejoice, for your work has us admirative at your loyalty just like ours made you admirative at our rebellion.

Let us keep fighting the good fight, Children of Zaun, together.

We hope you turn to look at the Old Hungry tonight, and that you'll feel pride at how hard we've been fighting for our independance.

By that time six months had passed since the Kiramman rule was instored in the Sister cities. Jinx posters were everywhere, people admiring her and painting her as a hero both figuratively and literally, her fans even calling themselves Jinxers, creating a sense of community while Piltover tried to enforce the opposite. Just like yours called themselves by the name of the oldest and strongest rebellion movement of Zaun. It was strange, hearing excited whispers at your work, the rebellion you helped begin. Years of working towards this couldn't have prepared you less as the warm feeling within your chest at how proud you were of seeing your people gain the courage to fight back, to ally themselves to each other against the common enemy.

That night, the rooftops arbored about two dozen of people, watching Silco and you's latest heist at the Old Hungry, one of Zaun's iconic landmarks, the clocktower bursting in red, foul smelling smoke while slips of paper rained from the sky. The tower had been taken over by enforcers at the beginning of their occupation yet you had to divert their attention, tire them to make sure you could pull the operation off. And as elated screams flooded the streets and rooftops, you looked down, the Children of Zaun looking up at you with teary eyes. They were teens and young adults, not tired enough from Piltover's tortured, and pissed enough to wake up from the cycle plunging their people further in the dark day by day. They were smiling proudly, eyes misty and wet, their left fists held to their temple and the right one over their hearts.

The Zaunite salute.

The one that enforcers prohibited any Zaunite to do for decades upon decades, the one that the old Children of Zaun used as a salute. And they were doing it, to Silco and you. With your own heart beating like a Noxian drum, lungs expanding and deplating quickly and eyes stinging with unshed tears you turned to look at Silco. He had taken his eyepatch away, shaky breaths leaving his lips as he looked at the sight before him, then he too turned towards you with his good eye widened and misty, lips pulled in the softest of smiles, his now long hair in a ponytail and the strands of hair framing his face floating in the breeze. Your heart beat faster at the sight, he looked positively breathtaking. The years of pain suddenly erased from his face and leaving nothing but youthful hope and soft joy.

"They..They see us as heroes Silco."

"They do."

And a smile slices your face, the biggest smile you've produced in years or maybe ever in your life. Teeth exposed, tears falling down your face as your left fist knocks against your temple, right hand over your heart.

"Remember where you're from! Rejoice in your origins! Fight for your freedom! And look back in pride at your hard work!"

Silco, whom you've never heard raise his voice, was in position too, his voice carrying a heaviness he's been dealing with for decades. Alleviating now that his people are awake, now that he isn't lost anymore within his own darkness, now that the world is moving. Because no matter how dreary it can get, Silco someway, somehow never lets go of his love for his people and his hope for a better future. It has motivated him all his life, and now that his mind and heart were clear, the flame has been tended and stoked back into a roaring blaze. And his roar of hope made your heart flutter in the similar way that has been happening more and more often around him. Melting at his passion, at his patience, at everything that he was.

The Children came by the shop, giving you all the files they got, talking to you and ordering whatever it was they needed. Since making groups after dark was risked, they'd trickle in slowly to the shop, pass informations to you two aswell as each other. And as time passed, the crew grew, more and more people joined under you and Silco's kind, protective wing, leading them to a rebellion that would chip away at the enemy's will, their sanity, their health and their patience. The town was painted in beautiful shades, blue from the Jinxers, painting walls and posters; while the Children of Zaun dyed outposts and stations red and the Firelights left their green symbols to guide whoever needed refuge to their hidden haven. The three creating an harmony in the midst of the chaos they cause, Jinxers visiting you with blueprints for machines and tools they'd need as much as your own team. Firelights coming to you for help in bettering the lives of those taken under their wing with different tools and contraptions. Understanding Silco was the one that raised and created the one the Jinxers followed, and following him and you by proxy while their own leader was gone as the Sumpers followed you, still bitter and angry about Silco's old occupation yet growing more used to him and friendlier as time went. The fear they felt at seeing Silco subsiding into quiet admiration, seeing him now for who he is, understanding who he was before, and appreciating who he was even before that.

The forefather of Zaunite rebellion.

Ten months had passed by now, enforcers tired and losing their grip on Zaun while Piltover sent more of them down, trying to keep their steel like dictatorship to crush and bind you yet failing miserably to contain the growing rebellion bubbling beneath the skin of the Undercity. Noxian guard dogs imposing more and more violence yet you fought them still, their blood staining your hands for the sake of the safety of your own people.

For the past months you had been going back and forth between work and your movement, Silco always by your side. Yet on your days off you'd wander on your own, going to Samira's to see if she could help you with creating an antidote, an antibiotic, whatever it was that could heal Silco's eye. The grey flesh gained territory, albeit slowly, and he needed more dosages of shimmer, going from one to two or three a day. Your stock was depleting at a fast pace, maybe you had enough for four more months but you would have to work fast.

So you provided Samira with Pilt river samples, samples from Sump moss, even a handkerchief you had used to clean up Silco's face wounds covered in a bit of pus and some dead skin. No matter what you gave, a piece of the puzzle was always missing.

"We still haven't tried everything."

"Samira, you have the toxins that eat at his skin, a sample of his skin itself, pure shimmer...I don't know what I can give you to help."

"The moss you gave me had an agent in it, it seemed to stabilize the shimmer solution and help in eating away at the bacteria. Unfortunately as resilient as moss is, the lack of water retension makes only a small bit of sap, which is what is needed to accomplish the biggest of the serum." She shows you through her microscope as she drops a bit of her trial serum onto some bacretia cultivated from the handkerchief, and it actually did work. Not much but it did. The bacteria went into a sort of shock, freezing in place as if they all suddenly fell asleep, then some of them would dissolve. Not all of them, but at least a quarter of the bacteria died from this trial alone.

You sigh, a hand raking through your hair. "Nothing grows in Zaun because of the poor soil and chemical waste." She nods, patting your hand. "I did get something more than information from my heists though."

Your mumble resonates in the room as your hand fishes through your pocket, finding a glowing blue marble.

"A hex crystal?"

"Yeah, they usually don't give those to basic enforcers, but a girl from the ex strike team visited, she had two on her and was stupid enough to leave one behind." You hand the marble to the woman next to you, her tan skin licked by the cold light.

"And...you want me to..use it?"

"If possible, see if shimmer, if the cultivated bacteria, the chemicals or the sap react to it."

"I'm no mage, you know?" She says placing the crystal above the light beneath the microscope, the white shine now blue, before looking into the eyepiece.

"I know Samira, but maybe a little bit of magic can go a long way. We need to try, Silco's good at hiding it but I know he's not getting any better and I worry for him. I just want him to be alright."

She nods and you get up from your chair, leaving the crystal in her capable hands as you go back home. You knew Silco was in much more pain and discomfort than he showed and it saddened you. He had payed the price for his actions, even before he made them, his whole life was spent in pain, and you were going to remedy that in whatever way you could. Yet you needed to find a plant that grew in the Sump for more of the sap that Samira needed and that was something you'd link more to a myth, nothing could grow in Zaun, even less a plant of that sort. And you sigh in frustration as you get back home, Silco sat at the alcove with a book and a cup and turned his head at your presence in the room, nodding his greeting to you.

"Rough day?"

"I'm just kinda stumped on something personal, it's frustrating me to no end because that matter is very important to me."

"And do you know what you'd need to solve that problem?"

You sat in front of him in the cushions, legs framing his as you leaned back in the alcove. "I have theories of one thing I could need, yet it seems to be more of a myth than anything. But what use is it if I can even have it yet not know what the recipe is."

"Is it so important to you that you leave for it everytime we have a day off?"

You nod slowly, pursing your lips into a smile as your eyes find his.

"Then I'm sure you'll find what it is you need. You're a stubborn woman, you won't back down until you get what you want." He nudges you and you sigh, a genuine small smile replacing your pused one. Your stomach bursting with butterflies at his soft encouragement, not rare anymore yet still as impactful each time it leaves his scarred lips.

"I guess. Thanks Silco."

"Don't get used to it." He smacks your hand as you go to take a sip from his coffee, handing it back to him afterwards, a cigarette quickly trapped between your lips as a flame licked the tobacco to ignite it. "I heard of a meeting at Vander's statue."

At his low drawl you open your eyes to stare at him curiously, your head tilting slightly.

"I heard Sevika would conduct it."

You nod to show you were listening. "And do you wish to go?" You blew your steam to the side.

He took a minute to think. "I suppose I do. In the hopes of seeing my daughter again although it seems she's disappeared from the face of Runeterra." His hand passes through his hair.

"Well I know she's definitely not dead, she wouldn't go out so easily against anything in this world. Enforcers, Noxians, magic...no matter what it is."

"I know."

"She's like you in that regard. But even if she isn't here, what will you do?"

"Appologize to Sevika."

"For what?"

He hums pensively, his eyes filled with swirling and clashing emotions, his thoughts looping and multiplying in his head before he simply smiles.

"Everything." Is all that he utters, his eyes conveying the weight of his words.

"When is it?"

"Tomorrow afternoon."

You clasp your hands on his shoulders, grabbing and squeezing comfortingly, his face tilting to the side so his scarred cheek touches your hand.

"Then we'll go." Your own smile grows on your face before you go shower, a meal prepared soon enough after you were done. The both of you falling into your routine, a year of sleeping in the same bed now and a year and a half of living together having led to much comfort in each other's presence. Your hands still found one another's head as you fell asleep, caressing your scalps into a much needed slumber.

The next morning you visit Samira again, Silco eyeing you suspiciously as you do yet letting you go without a word.

"Did the crystal do anything?" The woman slaving away at her desk startles, groaning as she turns to you, your own expression sheepish in apology to her surprise.

"Seems like the serum is boosted. But there's once again something missing..."

You sigh, leaning your hip against her desk, hands braced behind you as your eyes cloud in thought. "Anything hextech has some sort of...runes around the gem. As if to direct the energy purposefully towards any tast the hextech tool is supposed to do."

Humming pensively you trace on a bit of paper the runes you've seen around enforcer weapons, around certain tools carried by construction workers or even on the underground entrance to the hexgates. "Each of those have a purpose, to harm, to transport, to strengthen....If I can find someone proficient in runes we could possibly try something."

"I don't think I could do much for that, I manipulate biological matter, and that's of the order of magic and engeneering."

"You formulate the serum, I'll focus on the crystal. I may not be a mage but I have enough experience as a blacksmith to make something for this."

She nods, a hand rubbing on her forehead. "It could be dangerous you know?"

"And I'm willing to take the risk." You say, pocketing the crystal now that you know of its effects on the serum.

"It's crazy what you do for that man you know. Saving him and taking him in is one thing, letting him in your life and your shop for him to have something new is another, but you're inviting him into your revolution and using dangerous materials to save him..." She turns to you, her dark hair shadowing her face and making her grave expression all the more impactful. "I know you work yourself to the bone for everyone. But this is nearly madness."

"You know me, don't know when to stop."

"And you won't, especially not for him."

"He knows everything Samira." The glowing marble is back in your hand, thrumming with untapped power as you turn it to observe its smooth surface. "He's my only friend. The one person who saw past everything, and he's letting me in too. I see the bigger picture about him and he deserves more time. To repent and to finally live a life he loves, without the corruption of his own trauma."

"That's not all, now is it?"

And you were loath to admit it but it was true. It had been a year and a half of Silco's presence in your life and all had changed for the best. It was as if he was the key and you were the lock, he tried to force himself into locks unfit for his shape and broke them and himself as a consequence, you had been lockpicked again and again and pillaged only to decide to lock yourself away forever. You had provided him with a lock worth opening, letting him unravel after chipping away at himself for a world that would not budge and he had provided you with the gentle unlocking of your potential and all of what you had hidden for so long. What had started as wanting to save a fellow Zaunite, progressed to a silent need for companionship, then an unspoken friendship, but after the baptism even if he had called you his friend your heart had swayed into a different form of affection. The longing for companionship having been fulfilled you hoped to be content, and to a certain point you were. Yet there was still an emptiness, parts of your cracked heart not yet reached by his care, and you doubt they'd ever be. You hated that feeling. That longing for something more you believed you would not be granted. How dared you expect more from a man that already gave you so much more of himself than he allowed others? It made you feel unworthy of his friendship, the craving for something more, like you were given an inch but took a mile. Yet even as you pushed those feelings they kept on growing, every little action, every little word, fuelling your hidden affections and bringing them back into the spotlight.

It could be a simple playful nudge that you exchange, your gaze finding his in a clash of cold tides and searing metal, a soft smile or a teasing smirk. It could be his voice rolling like impending storms as he calls out to you, the gravelly quality it takes when he's tired, the silky soft tone he uses when you two open up or the velvety smoothness that drowns you in his seductive drawl when he jokes. Or maybe his laugh, that could be a soft huff, an almost indignant scoff, a low chuckle or a thundery cackle, rare like a flower growing in Zaun and just as beautiful. Maybe it was how he never seemed to fully hide how he felt around you, his façade slipping enough to show his comfort, his body relaxed, the permanent furrow of his eyebrows gone, the crows feet framing his eyes softened, his jaw loosened, and his eyes oh so expressive everytime he looks at you. Emotions that were familiar yet that took so long to decypher, still hard to fully comprehend even after so long. He seemed to seek out your presence, long gone were the days where he kept all the distance he could between you both, his body now always close by. Following you to the alcove or the couch, sitting at the table while you cooked, touching the small of your back when he opened the door to let you go first, a hand on your shoulder as he looks at whatever you're doing from behind you. It could be his growing humor, banter leaving you feel warm and joyful as he comes more and more out of his shell, the soft and open hearted moments also multiplying, bodies huddled together in the alcove with whiskey and cigarettes as you talk about anything and everything. Dreams, aspirations, hope....they all seemed so far away before him, then he came around and everything changed. You knew he believed himself to be a jinx, trying again and again yet always failing, always making things worse.

Yet he saved you from loneliness and his presence brought comfort and support you were never granted before. Fuelling your zeal, healing your heart.

Your heart clenches at the thought of your shared nights, the bed was where the both of you slept, soft breaths mingling as sleep overtook you, your chest warmed by his, one of your hands in each other's hair. In your dreams, when they seldom overtook your nightmares, you'd see you two embracing one another so tightly, words whispered in the other's skin, clothes discarded for closeness. In those dreams you felt fulfilled and complete, as if his care was all you needed for your life to click into place, for the final puzzle piece to be placed. And when nightmares woke you and he would drag you in his arms, you knew it was right. That his affection was all you craved, all you needed, to finally be fully yourself, yet as comfortable as you were in his arms in the mornings you always woke up alone. Well not exactly alone, yet not as cared for as in your sleep. And those nights happened more and more often, as if to tease you and mock you for falling deeper, making you realize just how fucked you were. Nightmares triggering from the stress at liking someone who wouldn't like you back, someone you couldn't have, yet Silco was ever so patient and caring towards you, maybe more so as time passed. Yet the embarrasment always melted as you came downstairs to the sight of him cooking, teasing you about how you clung to him in your sleep with one leg surrounding his hips and your arms clinging to him for dear life. All shame leaving for the day up until you wake up the next morning alone in bed yet again.

You sigh. "It doesn't matter."

"It does if you bleed yourself dry for him."

"But I am not. He helps me with everything, I have so much more energy now Samira, and more time for myself even if most of it is spent with him."

"You like it that way don't you?"

You nod, lower lip pinched between your teeth as you let out a long exhale through your nose. "He won't feel the same anyways, so I take what I can get."

"Are you sure about that? Silco is not rumored to be the most gentle, open guy, he's grown a lot with you." She rolls away from her desk, getting up to stand next to you. "Maybe he's in the same situation. But I doubt he'll reveal it anytime soon."

"He's probably just grateful, it's been over a decade since he's had a true friend, so he's probably just happy about it. Like I said, I'll take what I can get, I'm his friend first and foremost, no need to change something that doesn't need changing."

She looks at you knowingly, her eyebrows lifted and her lips in a soft pursed smile.

You put the crystal back in your pocket and leave Samira with a wave of your hand as you open the door, walking back home and sharing a quick lunch with Silco before you both make your way to Vander's statue. A large crowd already surrounded it and a short haired woman, who you guessed was Sevika, was on the statue's pedestal and as she spoke with her soft yet comandeering voice everybody listened. Jinxers, Children of Zaun, Firelights, factionless Zaunites and ex Baron lackeys, all joined in this important space for an important reason.

The need for unity against adversity.

"It's no secret we got history. Blood spilt on all sides. But we grew up on the same streets, ate the same scraps. Like it or not, we're in this mess together."

You nod along, eyebrows furrowed as your eyes stared at her, her words ringing true and showing her attachment to her people and how she respected the Zaunite code. Other people reacting in similar ways as more trenchers gathered in the square, the space getting scarce but the spirits getting stronger.

"Enforcers raiding our homes, Noxians down our throats, innocents getting carted off to Stillwater. We gotta choose right now whether we're going to throw the towel or make a stand together!"

Her voice gains in strength as she paces, looking to all of the faces in the crowd, eyes widening at the man next to you, Silco's hand suddenly holding yours in a tight yet gentle and warm grip while her bionic hand clenches. You squeezed in reassurance, wordlessly showing your support to your friend as his thumb caressed the back of your hand, eyes meeting Sevika's with a strong solemn nod, eyes conveying your allegience to her cause and she nods back before her eyes trail away.

"Not as Firelights, or Jinxers, or washed up goons." She takes a shaky breath. "Or even Children of Zaun." Her voice sounds gentler, reminiscent of a past long gone. "But as Zaunites!" She smiles to the crowd.

Yet people yell about wanting to see Jinx and you roll your eyes. No matter if their leader wasn't there, Jinxers had to realize that this was about more than symbols, that this was the place we'd create a united Zaun to fight back against your wardens. And all noise stops as a child climbs up onto Vander's memorial, lighting a blue flare and posing like one of the many paintings of Jinx you had observed on the walls of the Undercity. People slowly raised their hands, no matter who they are, taking off their masks and speaking in agreement, your own arm going upwards, the hand interlocked with Silco's raising in a joint cheer. You felt your friend's gaze on you and turned to him, cheeks softly burning as you smiled, his eyelashes fluttering as his mouth softly opens and closes as if to say something yet being uncapable of it.

That's when enforcers struck, what was a secret meeting suddenly thwarted by violence as citizens were beaten. You pulled your knuckle blades from beneath your long coat, a holster now holding them to your belts, and slipped in the crowd to attack, Silco preparing two daggers and doing the same. Yet as many as you beat more came around, it was an ambush.

"Stop fighting and run!"

Your voice screeches, continuing your unrelenting attacks towards the enforcers to permit as many Zaunites to escape as you could. Noxian forces soon arriving to the Piltovans' help and you sneered as you got low, blades planted in the ground as you prepared to lunge before you were dragged away by a familiar hand.

"It's not worth it, we have to leave."

The low gravelly voice of your friend was breathed directly into your ear, the closeness, feeling and sound disarming you before you turned to him. His eye was shadowed by a feeling of familiarity, a pain that had occured in the past, and at his haunted look you nod. Your weapons back in their sheaths as you hold his hand and run as fast and as far as you can, climbing gutters and avoiding the enemy through the roofs. Something felt wrong though, like someone following you.

"Silco." You call out.

"I know."

"The Sump." He nods at you, you both rushing between rooftops, getting down in the winding alleyways until you arrive at one of the entry points, suddenly stopping and taking your blades out, pointing them towards the one following you.

It was Sevika.

"Who are you?"

"A friend of Silco's." She scoffs.

"He doesn't do friends."

"He didn't do friends Sevika." Her eyes narrow and you sheathe your weapons back. "But you're not here to talk to me, you two need time, take it. I'll be here." You walk away, clasping your hands on Silco's shoulders for support and he grasps your hands gently, squeezing them and releasing a deep sigh. "You got this Sil."

His head snaps up and he looks at you in the eyes, his own widened until it softens. This time it's different than the usual ones, a look that has been coming more and more since that night you met up with the Children of Zaun at the Old Hungry, sparce yet growing more present. Before missions, after, during lunch at work, when no clients are around and you're working the hot metal in your hands, when you talk in the alcove at night while sharing cigarettes and a glass of whiskey, when you go sleep...

And that look made you crumble more the more you saw it. Falling deeper into a feeling that you were too scared to name under the idea that knowing about it will make it all the more concrete to you, cemented into your very being, carved into the rough metal of your soul.

So you step back, setting yourself on a dumpster not too far away. Silco's eye following you before he sighs, his hands clenching as he steels his resolve and takes off his eyepatch, slowly turning towards Sevika.

"You died."

"And yet I am no ghost Sevika."

"Yeah, unfortunately." She scoffs and that's when you notice her arm, or lack thereof, broken during the fight she was left without her mechanical aid. Your mind already making calculations for a small gift to your friend's former friend. She was rallying Zaun, loyal to her people even during such a time. No, especially during such a time. And her words earlier filled you with respect, no matter what would transpire between Silco and her, she'd get a new arm.

"I wish to apologize Sevika, if you'd let me."

"Hah! You? Apologize?" She barks out a laugh. "That's grand Silco. Real grand" She takes a few steps forward before looking at you. "What did you do to him, girlie? Silco isn't someone who appologizes or hides."

"We didn't hide Sevika, Chross came to us and we took care of him, shut him up in exchange for not divulging his..dealings." Silco takes a step forward. "If I was hiding I wouldn't lead a revolution and I would not be working out in the open either."

"Then why didn't you come back?" The woman's voice was angry, but a crack in it proved that there was more than just that.

"Because I had done enough damage, trying to fix it would risk me falling back in my ways or making everything worse. I had to...take a different approach."

"So the Children they're.."

"They're our faction, hers aswell as mine." He motions to you, a small smile softening his face. "She saved me, just because I was a Zaunite, she gave so much time and energy for me even when I was highly undeserving of it. She reminded me of what I was fighting for in the first place, the reason I kept going. Sevika I was blinded by pain, my dream stemmed from my love towards our people yet it was corrupted by loss, by fear, by anger, and I lost sight of what trully mattered in this fight. I lost sight of my love."

He sighs, putting a hand on Sevika's metal shoulder.

"You joined me because I got things done, and I know you saw me lose myself and tried to get me back. The only reason you stayed was because I was genuinely making things change, yet were they for the best? All I did was divide our people, drug them to create a weapon strong enough to give me power and money to take Piltover down, all the respect they gave me mainly stemmed from fear and rarely from admiration."

Sevika sighs and nods, agreeing to Silco's words.

"My friend here, she showed me the errors in my ways, not only by being honest and loyal when I had nothing, but also by giving me a place besides her and see the world for what it truly is again. Not a swirl of black ink in milky white, showcasing billions of shades of grey. No, she brought color back, showed me the beauty I believed had died so long ago. And she made me realize just how cruel I had been. Not only to my people and my men, but to Jinx and you aswell. The only two people that stayed besides me even when I all I did was hurt you."

"So you grew a conscience?"

"Yes, and a heart aswell." Sevika's face sours, it's acrid and bitter like the Sump, full of so many emotions. Anger, hurt and disbelief amonst them.

"I hurt you Sevika, I used you and you let yourself be treated like this because of our shared dreams, because of your morals. Yet in the end, you were the one who ran everything weren't you? You enforced authority, inspired respect, you checked every operation, acted as personal security while I was rotting away at my desk. My mind circling the drain, battered by corrupted politics, self-hatred, fear, anger, spite and hopelessness. But you never lost hope, and you stayed despite the behavior I was punishing you with. Gradually becoming worse to you, to Jinx and to myself."

"So you admit she was a mistake? Taking her in wasn't your responsibility, you fucked everything."

Sevika straightens, the look in her eyes softening and her lips pursing.

"While I know that taking her in was what made my downfall all the more painful, I will not allow you to call her a mistake." He rumbles, his shoulders tight. "She was the one element keeping me human even after i lost it all. And she was Felicia's daughter, I was not going to let her get caught by enforcers, or leave her without anything or anyone. I prefer suffering the price of my daughter's actions than risk my old friend's legacy dying without fighting for it."

"But I shouldn't have let her get involved in the enterprise. I shouldn't have made her into a monster, and I should have seeked help for her. She hurt many of our people, she hurt you, and her actions caused this war to happen. Maybe it was necessary, yet maybe a better solution could have been found had I been a better father. Unfortunately I was the best father I could be to her while being the unhealed, pathetic man that I was."

"We both know you were anything but pathetic Silco."

"I don't mean weak, Sevika. I was drowning in my own darkness and I pulled her with me, the rare instances of clarity I had were because she swimmed to the surface and let me take a lungful of air before my weight dragged her down again. And as she grew, my darkness exacerbated hers, and she drowned in her own, pulling me along aswell. I was pathetic because I could not recognize my faults as a father, as a leader, as a revolutionary and as a man. And for all of that, for all of the hurt I caused you, Jinx and our people, I appologize."

Sevika freezes, her hand clenching and unclenching rapidly as if debating whether to punch Silco or hold him, eyelashes fluttering and eyebrows furrowed.

"I'm sorry Sevika. You've always picked up my messes, always tried your hardest to make everything better, and I could never see how lucky I was to have you by my side. If anything, I was by yours the whole time, yet never was I there for you like you deserved."

And with that Silco steps back and takes a knee, saluting Sevika like a true Child of Zaun while her mouth opens and closes rapidly, her fingers twitching and her lungs taking quick, deep breaths.

"And you expect me to forgive and forget?"

"No." Was the simple and gentle answer he gave.

"No?"

"You are free to hate me, even beat me where I stand if it makes you feel any better. But you shouldn't forgive me if you cannot find it in yourself to do so, and you should never forget how I was either. I was a real piece of work Sevika, and you were the one that dealt with my every whims, I want you to realize how strong you are for that."

She drops down, her flesh arm gripping Silco's neck, his eyes fearful yet determined, his face soft, warmed by a smile.

"I should have never done that to you, old friend." He embraces her softly, the woman dropping her hand to wrap it behind your friend, hand punching at him before it grips the leather jacket. Her back jumped as Silco held her, she was crying.

"Fuck you Silco." You chuckle at her muffled words and her head comes up, arm unwrapping to wipe at her melted makeup and aid her at getting back up on her feet. "How'd you do that kid?"

"A lot of patience. Gotta need it to deal with him." She approached you, eyes wet yet a small smile growing on her face. "I also make him work, he's under me so if he does something unsatisfactory I deck his pay."

You both chuckle and she extends her hand to you, you grab it and shake it, introducing yourself as she does the same.

"That's all?"

"I also make pretty good food?" She snorts and releases your hand. "What? No Zaunite would turn down a good homemade meal."

"You look strong." Her words resonate as her eyes take you in, trailing up an down your form.

"Blacksmith." Your head tilts to her mechanical shoulder and you smile. "I'll make you something."

"You don't have to."

"I want to." Silco chuckles from behind her.

"That means the decision is final Sevika. Her stubbornness is one of the many reasons she chipped away at who I was before. And although I have a long way to go, I wouldn't have made it this far and won't make it much further without her."

You huff out a laugh. "You'd be good on your own Sil, stop buttering me up."

"I'm not. I'd lose myself without you, at the very least I'd risk it. You keep me straight, you transmute me like the philosopher's stone changes the crudest of elements into gold."

You bite your lip trying to distract yourself from the growing blush making your face burn as it you were feverish and your stomach and heart churn and flutter. Sevika grins, her eyes widening mischeviously while her chest bounces with a laugh.

"Now when did you learn to become a poet Silco?" She teases, her eyes trained on you.

"I've had a lot of time to read and reflect on my feelings."

Her eyebrows raise in incredulity as she huffs out a chuckle.

"Right." She drawls teasingly. "All of your feelings?"

"What are you implying?"

"Me?" She turns around. "Nothing."

You slip from the dumpster and breathe deeply, stepping from behind her to find Silco now standing up with his hands in his coat pocket.

"Something big is coming, will you two lend your strength to Zaun when it happens?"

"You don't need to ask Sevika, we're all Zaunites, it's our fight and we'll give it all we've got." She grins at your words, an arm wrapping around you.

"Good, you're valuable to our people. I heard of you, the blacksmith who worked day and night to provide masks for us during the strike team attacks. The ever so reliable woman of the Sumps that people praise day in and day out to provide all that her people need." And all of a sudden she cackles. "That means you-" She points to Silco. "Are the assistant? Oh I never thought I'd see the day."

"And he still takes care of boring papers. As a punishment." You giggle alongside her and look over to Silco who looked at you with that same warm look, nearly warm enough to make you melt into a puddle at this very moment if it wasn't for Sevika's hold on you.

"You let me do this because you hate these boring papers and I'm good at them. Don't lie, I make your work easier my dove." His voice teases, velvety and drawled as he looks at you, his hands placing his eyepatch back on his face and redoing his hair. Locks of ink black fluttering until right below his shoulders before being placed back in their low bun, the half bangs still adorning the left side of his face. His hair having grown much longer in the year he'd spent by your side.

The tease had shivers racking through your body.

"That's what you're supposed to do as an assistant, you pissant." You retort, trying to take the attention away from the words he'd just uttered. Yet Sevika's hand gripped your shoulder tighter and you saw her smirk from the peripheral, she had felt everything and you know she wouldn't let you live it down when you next met.

"I'll leave you two, I have to find Jinx, Isha's been taken."

"Isha?"

"Jinx?"

Came out two replies at once and the woman nods.

"Jinx is well, she found Isha around a year ago and raised her, took care of her. She's the kid that was on Vander's statue." You hum in understanding and Sevika takes her arm away from your shoulders and into her pocket. "Kid's very important to baby blue, helped her with her psychosis, she got better because of the little one."

Silco takes a deep breath and approaches you two. "Then thank that child for me, and cherish the both of them."

"I have been. Jinx was all that was left of you, and to her I was all that was left aswell. She's...grown on me, that crazy little thing."

You smile at Silco and Sevika, lips softly pulled up as you cross your arm.

"Thank you for that. Caring for her."

"I know how much she means to you, she'd done a lot of efforts towards me too you know. She's the one who built me that arm after the previous one was ruined. So what started out as a debt just became..."

"Genuine care." Your friend's voice finishes Sevika's sentence, the woman nodding gently at the words, agreeing to them. Her eyes found Silco's and whatever she found in that cold teal had her smiling, her eyes drifting to you for a millisecond as Silco's do aswell. Still swirling and glittering with that underscribable look.

"Yeah. Genuine care. Same thing I felt for you after you saved me from life as an infirm." Sevika says, cutting the eye contact before raising her eyebrows at the man.

"The ledgers have been flipped, I owe you greatly now."

"No. You saved my life and fueled me, no matter how much of a prick you were, there was a lot of good in you. Even if your actions were beyond reprehensible. The debts have all been repaid."

"Then you two are equals." You butt in, taking Sevika's hand and Silco's right one, trapping them between your own in a handshake. "No one ows anybody a debt anymore, you now see eye to eye and have the same goal. That's all there is to it." You turn to the woman next to you. "You're always welcome to visit us anytime if you're in need of anything or just wish to swing by, a friend of Silco's is also my friend and like hell would I turn a Zaunite away."

She smiles and frees her hand, showing it to you and you take it, a smile of your own reciprocating hers. Before she drops her hand, steps taking her away, a goodbye hastily thrown over her shoulder as she leaves, you and Silco also walking back home. Your routine was similar to always yet as you rake your hands through one another's hair that night you get closer, holding him.

"I'm proud of how far you've come, Sil."

"I wouldn't have been able to do it all without you."

You shiver and snuggle deeper in his hold, his warmth seeping through your clothes as you try to ignore how much faster your heart is beating.

"Yet if you weren't good deep down, it would have never happened. I'm proud of you, so I hope you're proud of yourself aswell."

"By your side I always am, my dove."

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Taglist: @vicurious28@midromiell@zorosleftmantit101@anthy-j-ander@agathasslutt@onyxistired@ren-ren23@hurts-my-brain@burgerwolf74

#arcane #arcane x reader #arcane x female reader #silco #arcane silco #silco arcane #silco x reader #silco x you #league of legends #silco league of legends #fluff #silco fluff #whatcouldhavebeen #fix it #soft silco #fix it au #fix it fic

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sleepymothafterhours · 3 days ago

Text

Rough day made rougher

Inspired by @indiewritesxoxo! (hi this is my side blog!) I love her cyberbully!sukuna series so much and i think everyone should go read all her works right now(that is your homework)

Divider Credits: @cafekitsune

Synopsis: After a rough day at work you just wanna wind down by playing your favorite game with your favorite guy, but hwat happens when he gets a little too mean and drives you over the edge :(

Warnings: mean Kuna, Bully!Sukuna, lmk if theres anything else

Word Count: 1080 Full fic under the cut, check sleepy moths after thoughts at the end for more <3

Thirty more minutes. That's what you kept telling yourself at least. Thirty more minutes and you could get in your car and speed home, get in your pajamas(and away from this cold, wet, and stupid drive thru window). you could make hot chocolate and sit at your desk and play your game to get your mind off it.

Though playing alone is never that much fun, you wonder if Sukuna will log on tonight when he always does. After months of him helping you learn the mechanics, you could finally get through a match without him raging(very much) at you.

Your thirty years minutes of torture ended with a screaming customer, you biting back a few tears and your boss telling you could leave. You grabbed your bag leaving with a quick "Bye!" not saying much else as you walked out to your car. On your phone were a few messages, none really that important until you got to a text from Sukuna asking if you were gonna be on tonight.

The drive home was loud, your playlist from work screaming in your ears but it was nice. And as you finally pulled into your driveway you sat for a moment to collect yourself before going inside and getting ready for sleep. Your cat was in your business like she always was whenever you got home from work, but in the end after a few pats and holding her for a few minutes she let you go free. Comfy in your pajamas you could finally sit down to play, in your haze getting home you had neglected to text him back and when you got on found an invite sitting in your games almost immediately. "Eager much?" You teased when you joined, it was just you, you adjusted his volume so that you could hear him just fine when he spoke, but so he wouldn't blow your eardrums out whenever he inevitably raged at the game. You'd come to enjoy the little ritual you had, so it did sting a little whenever Sukuna responded with a sharp, "Please. Figured you'd need my help again. As usual."

You gave him a witty, "What was that about needing your help?" When you got the first few kills in your first match.

"Yeah yeah your okay. You're welcome." He grumbled into his headset. It was almost enough to get your mind off of what a shit day you had at work, at least now you could do something right. Round after round you seemed to just get worse. Just an off day you could've guessed but Sukuna's constant teasing and yelling was starting to get you. "DUDE. Fucking seriously what is this guy doing." His yelling made you flinch and you realized he was talking about you but hadn't realized it was you. "Jesus fuck dude needs to uninstall." He grumbled. "Sukuna." you snipped as your character got hit. "That was me." You said a little hurt edging into your tone. He gave you a shit excuse and moved on. Once the match ended you couldn't help how you were feeling.

"Sorry you're bad tonight." He said before the next match started.

"Jesus asshole. I know I'm the fuckin' worst. " Thoughts of work flooded your mind, and you just wanted to curl up in bed and forget it. Alt-f4. Without thinking you left the game, you'd get penalized for going afk mid round but you just couldn't handle him tonight. your phone buzzed almost immediately, bombarded by texts from him.

Kuna 💖👹: Dude? Where tf r u?

You: WiFi shut out. Prob wont get back on 2nite, its been shit lately.

Kuna💖👹: Great maybe you'll quit fuckin up my rr.

You put your phone on do not disturb right after that, your computer was on, the mouse hovering right over the delete button. You thought it was stupid to delete a game over some guy. You went to sleep shortly after logging off. You ignored Sukuna for days after that, he hardly reached out really unless it was to see if you'd be on tonight, you gave him a shit excuse every time, "working", "busy", "Don't feel good." the last one wasn't necessarily a lie, you had caught the stomach flu in your two months of silence, and you had been working a lot but not enough for this much silence. After awhile he'd started checking up on you a lot more, asking if you felt better before asking if you were down to game. You kept telling him no until he called you on the way home from work one day.

"Why haven't you been playing?" He growled into the phone. "I've been busy. Don't you have someone better to be playing with?" You said, "Dude I'm driving call me back."

"Promise you're getting on tonight." He said

"Unlike you I have a life outside this game which means homework. I can't play."

"Come on! I'm sorry okay! Whatever you're mad about 'm sorry." He said, his tone changing from that harsh one he normally used to something softer, maybe he had missed you.

"You get 30 minutes." You said before hanging up.

You gave him his 30 and he was almost pleasant, he was definitely containing himself but he was pleasant. You stayed in the call when the thirty was up, your body on autopilot after another long day.

"I am sorry ya know." He said, cutting you off after a moment.

"What?" You asked,

"What I said was mean. I might have missed playing with you. You're the only one who actually matches me." You chuckled.

"Well I had a good teacher." You said softly as you adjusted your headphones. "I should go do homework. I'll be on tomorrow 'kay?"

"Does that mean I'm forgiven." He said

You were quiet for moment, so quiet he almost thought you had left already.

"Buy the new skin bundle for me and I'll consider forgiving you." You said, it was a long shot and you fully expected him to say not before the exact amount of credits you needed was being gifted to you by one "Kingofcurses". "Holy shit. Can I have this new vandal skin to-"

"Okay brat don't fucking push it." He said hanging up on you before you could ask for anything else.

Your phone dinged as you started working.

Kuna💖👹: for the record I had that leftover and didn't want the bundle.

You: Yeah yeah love you too Kuna

Sleepy Moths After thoughts: GAWD I LOVE CYBER BULLY SUKUNA ‼️‼️‼️

ALL MY HOMIES LOVE THE CYBER BULLY SUKUNA SERIES

Go give @indiewritesxoxo some love her series is to die for 💋🫶🏻

uhhhhh Idk what else I just had a lot of fun writing this out

also in my head they played Valorant (cus im a loser) together but I tried to keep it obscure enough so you can all imagine what game they're planning yourselves

night!

-Sleepy Moth

Pretty Please don't repost anywhere else <3

#ryomen sukuna #sukuna #sukuna x reader #jjk sukuna #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #x reader fic #au #gamer au #sukuna x y/n #sukuna ryomen #sukuna ryoumen x you #inspo

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pomefioredove · 5 hours ago

Note

omg i LOVE the concept of cookies as asks so can i have a sugar cookie, #8, with chocolate drizzle and marshmallows thank yeww 🙏

t-t-total idia victory!

order #8, sugar with chocolate drizzle and marshmallows

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ internet connection

tropes: ex (mutuals) to lovers, roommate au characters: idia additional info: romantic, gender neutral reader, reader is yuu

It was the closest experience to dating Idia had ever gotten, and likely the only experience he'd ever get again.

Three months.

Three perfect, blissful months.

That's 13.0357 weeks, 91.2501 days, 2,190 hours of chats, voice calls, and texts with someone he had almost considered his.

He was raising his confidence stats to ask them out when they sent him a message, which would be their last:

"router busted. sry. will get it fixed soon"

That was weeks ago.

Idia couldn't blame them. They were going to get tired of him eventually, and ghosting him, sucky as it was, was still the easiest way to let him down.

Then, at least, he could pretend that they were telling the truth.

"Come on, Idy! This is your chance! You'll never get over them if you never meet anyone else!"

Ortho's cheery, hopeful words twist Idia's stomach with guilt. He knows that. Of course he knows that.

He buries himself deeper into his blankets. "I don't want anyone else,"

"It's only for a few weeks. Maybe you'll make friends!"

Unlikely. Idia doesn't have the social XP for that. Who would want to be friends with him, anyway?

He can't even keep Magicord mutuals.

Then again, he has no other choice.

The Prefect had asked to stay somewhere with a high-speed internet connection while post-S.T.Y.X. Ramshackle was being repaired, and Ortho had volunteered Idia.

And his room.

Ugh. Why can't anything go right for once?

Idia hides under his covers like a small child, drowning the sound of the door and voices in PreMo.

He honestly doesn't know a lot about you. He doesn't get out much, and even if he did, you've always got those OP normie friends around you.

He knows you don't talk much. He's actually never heard you talk at all.

Whatever.

Idia only emerges from his blankets when his ears are ringing from the music and his body is sore from stillness.

He takes off his headphones and reads the room.

There's Ortho, projecting a beam of light on the wall, and there's Grim, chasing it, and there's you.

You seem a little out of place, awkwardly sitting on the floor when there are chairs and tables, your bags still at your sides, unpacked.

Something about you makes him feel at ease. Weird.

"Oh- Idy!" Ortho chimes. Idia jumps, and then everyone is looking at him. Crap.

"We were wondering when you'd come out! The Prefect has a question for you!"

You give Ortho a panicked look, as if to say you most certainly did not have a question for him. Idia has his own suspicions.

"About the Wi-Fi," Ortho chimes. "They really need to get online."

Idia narrows his eyes. His brother can handle something as simple as that.

"...O-okay," he mumbles. "I guess."

He reluctantly gets out of bed and sits beside you. At least with an objective, he isn't so nervous. You hand him your phone, some sad secondhand thing, and he puts in the password for you.

"Lemme know if it's slow. I've been working on upgrading the router, and it's been a little laggy," he hands your phone to you.

"Shouldn't be a problem, though."

You take it. "I can't complain, I don't have a router at all right now,"

Idia's face turns red.

His eyes go wide.

He can't place it, at first. What's that weird feeling? What is it about you-

You notice his expression. "Uh... did I say something?"

And when you speak again, just like that, Idia jumps to his feet.

"IT-IT'S YOU!"

"You?" Grim asks.

"You?" Ortho echoes.

"Me?"

Idia feels like he's losing his mind, his anxiety cracking and breaking away, shock taking its place.

"Y-yes, you! I know that voice! Don't you- you recognize mine too, don't you?!"

Your eyes widen.

"Oh... no... no way,"

"I-I can't believe this!" he says, suddenly grinning. "You weren't lying about the router, it must've got totally busted when S.T.Y.X- oh, crap. IT'S ALL MY FAULT!"

"Idy..." Ortho warns. "Your heart rate is-"

"I know! I know, I just- I can't believe it- you, of all people,"

He sits again, shaking. It takes you a moment to catch up.

"I... I wasn't lying," you mumble. "I've been trying to get a decent internet connection since we got back, but..."

"This is the guy?" Grim mumbles to you. He is ignored.

Idia feels lightheaded. This isn't real. This isn't happening. This is some weird dream.

He can't seem to stop grinning, anyway.

"Will you go out with me?!" he asks, without thinking at all. But not even the sinking feeling in his stomach is enough to ground him.

You stare back, your own eyes wide.

And then, in your familiar voice, in your familiar easing presence: "I'd like that,"

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #idia shroud x reader

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ghostmoon1 · 22 hours ago

Text

You know what, to start the year off, Imma make this lil appreciation post.

Now it's only been like, less than a year since I joined Tumblr about, I've been writing and drawing for years before this point, but the community here, especially the CoD community which I am mainly apart of just made me feel amazing. Everyone I've met here are some of the nicest people.

I have gotten my old hobbies back, giving me reason to write and draw again which have majorly helped with my own mental health, and now I just wanted to give the amazing people a shout out to start the year off, to hopefully make peoples days, and to just let them know that I appreciate yall!

In no specific order :3 and if you don't wanna be pinged again by me, please let me know and I won't!! No harm done, I hope this is okay :) and this is prob gonna be cringe or smt.. all sappy but like.Yeah here yall are lmao-

Putting them under the cut as there are a few :3

@gomzdrawfr - You've been a massive influence since I joined the CoD community, I adored your art from the very start, and your just such a sweet and kind person, one that I'm so thankful to have met, and so proud to be able to call you my friend. You're the first proper friend I've made here, and I can't tell you how much our talks make me smile every single time. And I'm also so thankful for the community you have sorta helped me get into, you've helped me feel comfortable interacting with more people here :3

@shadeops21 - You were honestly the person that got me to join Tumblr! I was looking for something to try and make my own Konig cosplay (that's been given up on bc motivation and Tik Tok just. yeahhh) and I found you, and all your amazing work! I basically made my account to see if you'd make any more, cause I just love what you do so much, it's got to be so helpful for so many people!!

@sleepyconfusedpotato - After Shadeops, you were the very second person I found here! And oh my gosh how much I obsessed (and still do) over your art, especially Jade. You inspired me to write my first ever fic on here, actually, where I made my first CoD oc ship with Soap, your art and what you do honestly helped me feel comfortable making something like that for myself, cause some of the toxic people on Tik Tok made me uneasy and unsure about that lol- And now, I finally have an OC I'm working in depth on, and you're my biggest reason to thank for that.

@soaps-mohawk - Your writing has inspired me so much, and I couldn't thank you enough for making your wonderful fic. I may not be like, a OG, but I've been there since around chapter 20 I think? I could be wrong, but half way through sorta. You are the biggest reason I started writing again here, you just create masterpieces. And this is the first time I've ever been hooked into a fic so much, and what got me into liking the Omegaverse (you hooked me and I can't let go of it now...) Thank you for taking your time with your writing, and thank you for all the inspiration you have given me.

@on-a-lucky-tide - Oh my gosh how much you have yanked me into the Nikprice community. I adore every single one of your writing pieces, and honestly, you are another who has helped inspire me to write more. All your writing is so filled with emotion and love, I want to be able to do that as well. Your a wonderful person, I've seen you interact with this community and everyone, and I just adore you as a person and all the hard work you put time and effort into creating.

@rainyrambles-overcod - I adore your oc's and rambles so much!! And I couldn't tell you how happy it makes me to have a friend that is okay with the tag games, I never know who to tag for those sorta things, but I actually feel okay tagging you and they are so fun and always brighten my mood :3 Keep creating, I can't wait to see what else you come up with. Thank you for all the tag games and fun!!

@nekrosmos - Yet another that has helped drag me into the Nikprice community or cult ig that too. Your art is absolutely amazing, I truly want to be able to draw like you do. Just everything about your art has me in awe, the emotion, the style, the love everything. Seeing your art brings me so much happiness! Oh and your writing is BEAUTIFUL. That also brings me joy to take a little time out of my day to sit and read the time and effort you put into everything, and how kind of a person you are. I always hope you'll keep creating, and always remember how much joy you bring both myself and others.

@daredaredoodles - I know we don't interact a whole lot, but you honestly mean a lot to me still. You were my first ever mutual on this site, and I will be forever grateful for this. Personally its anxiety that stops me from barging into peoples Dm's and talking, but yeah. Thank you for that, even if it is only a small thing.

@cricricorner - you were my first follower, and I still see you in my notifications from time to time, which always brings me joy! It's wonderful to see your followers still interact with your content, and I couldn't say how grateful I am. I couldn't tell you how happy I was to gain my first follower here, so thank you for taking your time to read my writing and see my art.

@daydreamsareallineed - You were pretty much the first person to show so much interest in my main fic!! And oh my gosh I couldn't ever tell you how much joy it brought me to read your comments, to have someone so interested in my writing, that personally I didn't even think was that good. I haven't given up completely on the fic dw, I'll hopefully update it soon! Motivation just go brrr. Thank you so much for all your support, it means the world to me.

And another shoutout to everyone who supports me, who follows me, and to every single one of you that like and reblog my content. I look through every single note I receive, I assure you none of you are left out.

And my final shoutout to everyone that creates on this site. The community here is like nothing I've ever experienced before. I adore scrolling through everyone's art, it all makes my day. I've never felt so comfortable and unjudged before. Thank you to everyone who contributes to this, you all make my day <3

This turned out a lot longer than I meant it to be- but I just wanted to share how I felt with this new year. I'm sorry if you'd rather not be pinged-

But have a lovely day :3 I love you all!!

#moonie talks

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yunnimilk · 22 hours ago

Text

"ROUGH AND SWEET."

NU; CARNIVAL

to my dearest yakumo ~

serv. top! AMAB! Yakumo x bot! AMAB! gn! Reader.

tags ⵌ.ᐟ.ᐟ | praise kink, BDSM, choking , impact play, tooth - rotting aftercare !!

YUNNI / I know I've been gone, but I was really busy this winter. Visited family for christmas and new years, and spent most of that time with my partner as well. BUT!!! your loyal writer, yunni, is back

SUMMARY: your lover gives you a massage to relieve stress

...

MINORS DNI [18+ DRABBLE] ！！！

YAKUMO ...

God, these grocery bags are so heavy...

You limp your way to your front door, heavy plastic bags in hand. It felt like your arms were just about to pop off, the soreness overcoming everything. How tempting it was to just drop them and leave them there for the bitter winter to freeze everything.

Unfortunately, you had to supply your fridge with food or else you'd starve to death.

Maybe you should move, the space between the parking lot and your apartment was like traveling through the Sahara Desert, too long and difficult for comfort.

Fingertips and toes growing numb from the persistent, apathetic, frigid winter.

"aughh... I'm going to die"

A groan left your lips,

You finally made it to your place of residence, letting the weight pulling down your limbs go.

This sigh of relief escaped you. Standing there for a moment to enjoy the silence.

You reached down to your pocket to find your keys,

.. oh no.. don't tell me..

"did I lose those damn keys?"

Panic slowly sets in your mind, you curse yourself out for being so forgetful. You grip the outsides of your pockets in frustration, just great.

Eyes getting glossy and hot from the tears threatening to fall down. But before you could begin your mini-tantrum, the door suddenly opened. You turned your head at the sudden motion

"Yakumo!"

You whimper out his name, you involuntarily slouch your body to welcome his with open arms. You stain his clothing with your sobs.

"a-ah! [name]!"

"I'm so glad you're here..."

"uhm.. did something happen, love?"

"nothing.. I'm just so relieved to see you.."

Yakumo's face flushes.

"come on.. let's get you inside"

---

"ah.."

Yakumo's slender fingers knead your strained muscles. The massage slightly tickling you, getting dangerously close to your neck. Your partner let out tiny giggles from how easy it was to calm you down.

"mm.."

You let out little noises of approval,

but there was this specific spot that Yakumo grazed over.

"hnGH!"

You both stopped.

Oh shit..

".. my love..?"

Yakumo spoke up, you cautiously turned your head.

"uhm... yeah?"

---

"HyAH!.. fuhh.. Yakumommngh...~"

"mnn! oh.. [name].. you feel so good!"

He desperately humps into your puffy hole, like a bunny trying to mate. He could feel your tight walls clamping down on his cock.

You could feel every vein roughly rub itself with your prostate, the bumps made you arch your back. Fuck.. even that was getting sore. You feel his sneaky little hands hugging you from the back.

It was starting to become painful from the cuffs on your wrists, the metal digging into your skin. Yakumo's hand wrapped around your throat, lightly squeezing it. The pressure made you focus on the electrifying satisfaction, the force on your neck jostled tears out of your eyes.

"Mnh! mmfuhck! YAkumuoo..!"

"hah! You're being so good for me! ~"

"hUNGH!"

Your walls compressed Yakiumo's fat cock so tightly that he couldn't move, his pathetic moans reach your ears, it made you so horny!

"o-oh! I'm about to!"

Yakumo exclaimed in euphoria,

"P-PWease come with m-me! HAH!"

Hands unconsciously enclose around your throat more as your partner slaps his hips against your ass. Squelching sounds being overpowered by ruthless clapping noises. None of that, however, could come close to your manic screaming.

"OH! HUah! ah! aH! AH!"

"hnm!.. come with me! ha.. HAH!"

"NGH?!"

You suddenly felt hot, splurging cum overtaking your insides. The feeling alone made you release spunk all over the couch. You were all sticky but it was so good.

Hands still tied, you fell down with your behind still raised up, sore hole leaking out thick liquid, squirting out on occasion. The aftereffects made you drowsy and cockdrunk, breathing out moans, it was so hard to stay conscious.

"guh!"

You jolt from a wet feeling on your bottom, it was Yakumo wiping you down with baby wipes. How did he fix himself up so quickly?

"sorry for going so hard! I was just lost in the moment.."

After he finished, he wrapped you in a fluffy blanket, the frost being withered from the heat of the cloth. he kissed you cheek.

You wrapped you in his arms and stayed there for the whole night.

"I love you, Yakumo.."

"I love you too, dearie"

#amab nonbinary #amab reader #nu carnival x male reader #nu carnival #nu carnival x reader #nu carnival yakumo #mtf nsft #mtf reader #nb nsft #nb reader

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inspector-m3 · 23 hours ago

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just another trope I'd like to see more of.

feral person A with leash holder person B, except, hear me out, it's not in the 'i own you' or 'i control you' kinda way.

it's in the way where person B is fully aware of how feral person A is...and simply shows them who to direct it on, gives them something to protect, gives them a target, the leash is just for show, just to let people know where the demon person A was sent from.

imagine in a fight or something and person A is holding back either not fighting and being somewhere else or not fighting at their full ability, only to get a nod from person B and everyone just goes "oh...shit" and person A is just like a switch, the leash has been dropped but in all honesty the leash was just there for show, for person A to find their way back like some giant bloodthirsty cat dropping off their prey proudly. and person B? you'd expect them to give person A a telling off, a lesson on morals at least...but no, they pat A's head proudly and praise them, tell them that they did such a good job

"look at you! you only killed five of the guys we needed alive!"

Everyone be lookin at person B like ' bitch get yo dawg' while person B is actively encouraging person A to be even more feral. (they probs think it's hot)

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wheels-of-despair · 2 days ago

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Tangled Pairing: Eddie Munson x You Summary: Eddie gets a comb stuck in his hair. Evil Woman untangles it, and a little bit of his tragic backstory comes out with it. Contains: A minor tantrum, a sad Eddie, a little hair lore, and our boy being loved and taken care of. Words: 1.2k Note: This takes place during their first winter together.

"FUCK!"

A loud clatter follows the yell from behind the closed bathroom door, making you jump from your position on the Munson's couch.

You're sitting there in borrowed sweats, watching a Mork & Mindy rerun while you wait for Eddie. You'd spent most of the day playing in the snow with the neighborhood kids, and had both required about a gallon of hot chocolate and a warm shower to recover. The girls had won the final snowball fight, which meant you earned the first shower. (He probably would've let you go first even the boys had won, but you're counting it as a victory shower anyway.)

When you don't hear anything else, you rise and slowly approach the bathroom door. Silence. You knock lightly. "Eddie? You okay?"

The door slowly creaks open, revealing a pair of worn burgundy sweats, a faded Hellfire Club shirt, half of a black comb stuck in a tangle of matted hair, and the most pathetic puppy eyes you've ever seen.

"You okay?" you ask again.

"Comb got stuck," he says miserably.

"Want me to get it out?"

Eddie squirms, looking like he wants to wash himself down the drain. He turns toward the mirror and gives another feeble attempt at getting the comb out. You lean against the doorframe, waiting for him to ask for help, and your eyes drift to the bathtub. All of the bottles that usually sit on the ledge are scattered across the bottom of the tub. He must've thrown something and knocked them all down. Maybe you should take him bowling sometime.

Eddie sighs, releases the comb, and hangs his head in defeat. Looking at the floor, he turns to you and nods his head slowly.

"I promise I'll be gentle," you assure him, as quietly as you can. "C'mon." You tilt your head toward the living room and start walking, hoping he'll follow.

You slide the coffee table to the side, drop a pillow on the floor for him to sit on, and take your seat on the couch. You gesture for him to sit between your legs. He does, reluctantly. You want so badly to know what's actually wrong, you feel like you may burst… but you know better than to ask.

You reach for the comb embedded in his wet hair without a word, and he flinches. You rest your hands on your knees instead.

You play with his hair all the time. When you watch movies, his head often ends up on your lap, and your hands gravitate to it. He gets the cutest little smile on his face when you tuck his hair behind his ear. You know for a fact that rubbing light circles on That One Spot on his scalp will put him right to sleep. Why is this different?

"You okay?" you ask.

"Yeah."

"You know I'm gonna try my very best not to hurt you, right?"

"Yeah." His voice is hollow. Emotionless.

You carefully reach for the mass of tangles and the buried comb again. He tenses, but doesn't flinch. You begin working it out, piece by piece, taking your time and focusing all your energy on keeping it painless while the laugh track on TV keeps the room from falling into awkward silence.

When you finally get the comb out, you set it aside and reach for your own brush. Starting at the ends, you gently work out all the rest of Eddie's tangles. The whole process takes nearly an hour, and he doesn't move a muscle the whole time.

"Alright, you're done," you finally declare, setting your brush aside. He heaves a sigh of relief, and you lean down to kiss the top of his head.

He turns sideways and rests his chin on your knee. You cup the side of his face, rubbing your thumb across his flushed cheek, and he closes his eyes. Just when you think he's fallen asleep, he heaves another sigh and starts talking.

"My mom used to brush my hair when I was little. Her brush had those hard, scratchy bristles that felt like wire." He swallows, but still doesn't open his eyes. "My hair wasn't this long, but I used to play outside all day. To get away from them, mostly. But when I came home at dark, she'd make me stand in front of her in the kitchen so she could brush it. She'd yank and pull at it and brush my neck and my ears and my forehead. I think it actually drew blood once or twice. If I moved or complained, she'd put me over her knee and use the other side."

You didn't realize your hand had stopped stroking his cheek until he stopped talking. You move it to his shoulder, still a little damp from his hair, and give him a light squeeze.

"One day, after she died, I went in the bathroom with scissors I stole from school and cut it all off. Well, I tried. They were dull and kid-sized. Dad laughed at me when he saw it. Made me go to school like that. The nurse finally took pity on me and evened it out after a few days."

He crawls onto the couch and lays his head on your lap, facing the TV. Normally in this position, your hands would be in his hair immediately, but today… you hesitate. Although he can't see you do it, he must sense it. He puts his hand on your knee, palm up. You take it, and place your other hand on his arm in a gesture you hope is comforting.

"When I came to live with Wayne, he'd give us both a buzz cut on the first of every month. The noise from the clippers scared the shit out of me at first, but after watching him do his own a few times, I finally let him do mine. I didn't start growing it out again 'til the summer I graduated from middle school. That's when I decided nobody was gonna fuck with it. And nobody was gonna fuck with me."

He lets go of your hand and flips onto his back, staring up at you.

"Kay, that's the whole traumatic hair story you didn't ask for."

You smile and reach for his hand again.

"It doesn't bother you when I play with it?"

"Not gonna lie… scared the hell out of me the first time," he chuckles. "Usually, when a girl goes for the hair, it's to pull it or stick something in it. One time, a girl dragged me across the playground with it. But you? Just started twirling it and playing with it and putting me to sleep. Didn't ever want you to stop. Couldn't fucking believe it."

You feel your heart warm at his confession, and finally let your hand return to that beautiful head of hair. Your fingers lightly work at his scalp, and he smiles sleepily up at you.

"You know I'd never hurt you, right?" You know he knows, but you need him to hear it. "Unless it's like… in a kinky way that you specifically request."

"I'll keep that in mind," he smirks.

#writings of despair #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x evil woman

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bellaxgiornata · 1 day ago

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How Much Did You Miss Me?

Pairing: Jax Teller x fem!Reader Word Count: 3k [Jax Fic Masterlist]

Warnings/tags: 18+; smut, f!masturbation, cocky Jax and his filthy mouth, somewhat rough sex (kinda, not really), porn with minimal plot, unprotected sex

Summary: While Jax is on a protection run, you're desperate to ease some tension so you can fall asleep. But when he unexpectedly returns early, he's determined to prove he's better than your toy.

a/n: This is pure filth. All of it. I was writing some soft!Jax smut and was struck with the need for something with a cocky Jax, so this interrupted that and fell out of me really quick. Newer to this fandom, but if you'd like me to tag something not listed above, let me know. Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

You hated nights like tonight. Nights when Jax was out late doing a protection run with the club and you were left alone in your apartment.

You especially hated nights like tonight when you couldn't seem to ignore that damn incessant ache between your thighs no matter how hard you tried. You knew you’d never get to sleep tonight if you didn’t get rid of it, but all you wanted was Jax–his mouth, his fingers, his cock. Right now you craved any part of him, but he was probably hours away on his bike and you were here with nothing but your damn vibrator.

Head nestled amidst the pillows of your bed, your eyes squeezed tightly shut as the repetitive buzzing noise drowned out the sound of anything else in your apartment. You were focused on the pleasure steadily building in your body as your mind desperately tried to conjure up images from the last time you'd been with Jax two mornings ago. Holding tight to the memory of him lazily fucking into you while half awake from that other morning, you desperately attempted to chase your release just so that you could relax enough to finally go to sleep tonight.

Teeth biting down on your lip, you could feel that intoxicating sensation gradually growing stronger within you. You were getting closer, inching nearer and nearer as that wave of pleasure crept its way up your spine. Keeping your focus on the memory of Jax with your legs tossed over his shoulders, his large hands holding your ankles firmly in place as he slowly rolled his hips into you, your back arched along the bed as the pleasure continued to build. You were so damn close now.

But the sound of a familiar deep, rumbling chuckle broke through the moment.

Just as you'd startled and opened your eyes, Jax was reaching down and pulling the toy out of your hand without the slightest hesitation. With a smug smirk on his lips, he easily turned the vibrator off without even glancing away from where you were sprawled naked on the bed before him.

“Really, baby?” he asked, his tone a mixture of amused and annoyed as he gestured his head at the vibrator in his hand. “This what you do when I'm gone?”

Lips parting in surprise for the briefest moment, you gaped at his audacity. Seconds later you recovered, shooting him a pointed look that only had his smirk growing a little more.

“What the hell, Jax?” you shot back in frustration.

He held the toy up higher in his hand, his brows raising back at you. “You think I'm gonna let my girl use this fucking thing when I've got something much better?”

If it wasn't for the fact that you were feeling sufficiently sexually frustrated at the moment, you'd have found the sight of him holding your purple vibrator up with that look on his face somewhat funny. But right now you didn't feel anything close to entertained.

“You were supposed to be out, Jax,” you reminded him. “What the hell else am I supposed to do when you're gone? Suffer?”

“Now there's a thought,” he mused.

With an annoyed huff, you watched as he turned around to set the vibrator on your dresser. Pushing yourself upright on the bed, you frowned at him when he turned back to face you.

“Come on now, darlin’,” he drawled, a glint in his eyes as they roamed over the way you sat naked on the bed. “Don't give me that look. I'm not going to leave you so...tense.”

Your eyes narrowed at the way he was still grinning at you. Unaffected by your look, his hands reached up and slowly slipped the leather kutte off of his shoulders, letting it drop to your bedroom floor with a soft thump.

“What's the catch, Jax?” you asked him, cutting straight to the point.

He chuckled at your question, his hands casually undoing the buttons of his flannel one at a time next. “No catch, baby. I wouldn't do that to you. Not when it seems like I interrupted you before your satisfying conclusion.”

You shook your head immediately, not entirely believing what he was telling you–not with that look on his face. Thighs pressing together as you watched him undress, your body was craving release at this point. It didn't help that Jax had caught the subtle squirming and shifting of your hips, his eyes dropping down towards your legs. His tongue darted out, running slowly along his bottom lip as he slid the flannel down his arms and to the floor. Your eyes immediately drank in the sight of his bare chest, raking over every toned muscle, little scar, and tattoo now made visible.

“Okay, maybe one little catch,” he amended.

Gritting your teeth together, you watched as his hands lowered, beginning to slowly undo the button and the zipper of his jeans. He was going so slow on purpose just to tease you.

“What?” you grudgingly asked.

“I want to hear you,” he continued, pushing his jeans and black boxer briefs down his thighs in one fluid movement that had you almost salivating at the sight of him finally bare. “No keeping quiet tonight. I don't give a shit if we piss off your neighbors again.” He kicked out of his clothes, taking two steps before he was right at the foot of the bed. “I want to know how much more you enjoy my cock. I want to hear it. You got that?”

His eyes held yours as he leaned forward and planted both hands on the edge of the bed. There was a challenge in his expression, daring you to tell him no. But you knew better than to do that because then he probably really would leave you frustrated and unsatisfied tonight. And honestly, you had a feeling you'd be so sensitive at this point that you wouldn't be keeping very quiet.

“It's not like I wanted that thing over you in the first place, Jax,” you answered flatly.

Clearly your response had been one he wanted to hear because Jax climbed up onto your bed the second you'd finished speaking. He jutted his chin out at you before he spoke again, that smug smirk he often wore returning.

“Roll over, baby. On your stomach,” he ordered.

You hesitated for only a moment, just long enough to take in the sight of him naked on his knees on your bed, one hand stroking his hardening length. He looked so good that you just couldn’t help yourself, but the moment one of his brows arched at you, you shifted and turned, laying down on your stomach.

“There you go, baby,” he praised in a deep rumble.

His voice went straight to your cunt, a surge of pleasure running through you. His rough hands grabbed onto your hips, shifting them a little higher up off the bed before one of them slid over to grab a firm handful of your ass. A quiet, soft little noise slipped out of you in response, the anticipation of what was coming causing your cunt to pathetically clench around nothing.

As Jax pushed your legs apart wider with his knees, making room for himself between them, a pleased, throaty noise vibrated in his chest. The sound alone had your hands fisting the bed sheets before you glanced over your shoulder at him behind you.

“Already impatient, darlin’?” Jax teased.

“Of course I'm impatient, you interrupted what I was–”

Your words were cut off the second he ran the tip of himself through your damp folds, a gasp falling out of you instead. You were so damn sensitive already from what you'd just been doing that you didn't think you’d be lasting much longer. Especially when another throaty, satisfied noise left Jax behind you.

“What was that, baby?” he asked, amused. “Would you have preferred the toy instead?”

He teased the tip of himself against your entrance, barely pressing himself against you. Your eyelids immediately fluttered, your breath hitching. You just wanted to feel him already.

“No, Jax,” you nearly whined in response.

Trying to compose yourself as you watched him once more over your shoulder, you saw the slow, satisfied grin spread over his lips. A second later you were rewarded with the feel of him partially sinking into you, the sensation causing your mouth to fall open and a soft groan to slip out.

“That fucking toy get you this goddamn wet?” he growled, a hint of irritation in his tone. “That why you feel so goddamn good already?”

Jax moved behind you, leaning forward on the bed until his body was flush over the back of yours, resting his forearms along the mattress on either side of your hands to withhold some of his weight from off of you. His hips pushed himself further inside of you a little more roughly than usual as if to emphasize his displeasure at your use of the vibrator. The gesture met with a sharper gasp from you this time.

“Was–was thinking about you,” you managed to breathe out.

His face hovered just over your shoulder now, his mouth beside your ear when another pleased rumble sounded in his throat. He pulled his hips slowly backwards, his cock nearly slipping out of you before he roughly buried himself fully back into you in one quick movement. A high-pitched curse flew out of your mouth, your eyes snapping shut.

“So you were thinking about me?” he murmured, his tone far softer than the current thrust of his hips against you. His head shifted, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he spoke. “You miss me that much when I'm out with the club, baby?”

“Mhmm,” you hummed out, the noise sounding more like a needy whine.

Jax’s pace increased at your response, his cock repeatedly burying itself so deep inside of you that he kept hitting the spot that made the edges of your vision nearly burn white. You were so damn close again already, each of his panting breaths and rough grunts in your ear drawing you right back to the moment he had interrupted a little bit ago.

You loved this position and Jax knew it. The angle he could thrust into you was always perfect, allowing him to fill you completely with every sharp snap of his hips. And you loved the feel of his solid, warm body pressed flush over the entirety of you, his weight pressing you deep into the mattress as he practically overwhelmed all of your senses. You could feel the pull of his muscles against your back, hear the grunts and heavy breaths slipping out of his mouth beside your ear, feel his hot breath along your neck, smell the familiar scent of cigarettes and leather.

Your cunt was tightening around him already at the influx of stimulation, squeezing him as you kept drawing closer to the release you craved. A flurry of soft moans had been increasingly tumbling out of your mouth as he continued to roughly fuck into you, his hips repeatedly ramming into your ass over and over. But you could tell he wanted more when the hand beside yours moved, sliding its way along the bed before moving between your body and the mattress, brushing down past your breasts and your stomach. His hand continued its descent further until it stopped between your thighs, his fingertips landing right on your already sensitive clit. A hiss of pleasure came from between your teeth and Jax huffed in amusement beside your ear.

“Baby, I know you can be louder,” he panted out. “I told you I wanna hear you.”

His fingers began rubbing circles against that sensitive bundle of nerves and your eyes nearly rolled back into your head. You felt like you were drowning in bliss now as his hips continued rolling roughly into you, the sound of skin on skin obscenely mixing with Jax’s grunts and your growing moans.

“Louder,” he ordered, continuing to speak into your ear between gritted teeth and forceful thrusts. “Let me–hear you. Wanna know–how much–you missed me.”

“Fuck–Jax–”

With an animalistic grunt, his teeth latched onto your earlobe, giving a couple of sharp tugs against the delicate skin as his fingers continued rubbing against you. Your cunt fluttered around him, gripping him like a vice. He groaned in response, releasing your earlobe before his forehead dropped onto your shoulder as his hips began to stutter, slowly losing their rhythm as he neared his own release. That had your own hips beginning to push back against him, desperately trying to match his pace and take him somehow deeper.

“That’s it baby,” he whispered into your skin. His body pressed more of its weight on top of you as he kept ramming his hips into yours, chasing his own release. “That’s my girl.”

“Jax–I’m–”

You couldn’t get the words out, you were already teetering on the edge of an orgasm, one that felt far stronger than normal because of its delay. At the feel of Jax pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder, your eyes snapped tightly shut.

“I know, baby,” he murmured, his voice strained. “Let go for me. Need you to–” he paused, breaking off on a groan that had your toes curling along the sheets as he hit you with a particularly deep thrust. “Need you to–cum for me.”

When the pads of his fingers added just a bit more pressure to your clit, you finally lost it underneath him. A moan tore its way up through you, ringing out through your bedroom as your fingers fisted the bed sheets even tighter. Jax continued to thrust into you, though the movements had grown sloppy as his breaths grew ragged and loud beside your ear. He was grunting and groaning as your body trembled its way through your orgasm until he gave another particularly deep, sharp thrust that had you crying his name.

That’s when Jax finally lost it. A resonant, beautiful moan tumbled out from between his lips as his hand finally left its place between your thighs to grip the pillow beside your head. He gave a few more rough pumps into you before you felt the warmth of his release fill you. You hummed softly, your cunt continuing to twitch around him.

Jax expelled a deep breath before he practically collapsed half on top of you, the weight of him only causing your already blissfully boneless body to relax further into the bed. As you both sat there panting, your loud breaths filling the room as your sweat-dampened bodies remained tangled together, you could feel his cock gradually beginning to soften inside of you.

“So that–that’s what you get up to when I’m out, huh?” Jax finally asked, still sounding out of breath. “You and that goddamn vibrator get nice and close when I’m busy?”

Turning your head along the pillow, your eyes met Jax’s as his head rested on the pillow beside yours. There was a lazy half-smile on his lips as he gazed back at you, but there was something soft and tender shining in his eyes as he watched you in return. He looked so damn good all flushed and satisfied that you were half tempted to rile him up for another round once you recovered.

“Not every time,” you answered, a small smile slipping onto your lips as your breath came in heavy. “Just…some nights. When I’m missing you.”

A soft, amused breath left him as his hand reached up, lightly brushing aside a strand of hair that had stuck to the perspiration along your forehead with his fingertips. “Yeah?” he murmured, his hand coming to gently stroke your cheek. “Miss me that much tonight, did you?”

You hummed an affirmative response, your small smile growing. “Yeah. Wasn’t expecting you to come over tonight,” you told him, your heart still pounding heavily in your chest. “You made it sound like you’d be gone all night.”

“I was supposed to be,” he replied. “Had that protection run. Wasn’t gonna be back until four in the morning. But then some bullshit was going down at the clubhouse so Clay sent Opie and I back. Think he meant it like a punishment or somethin’.”

Jax laughed softly, shifting on the bed to ease some of his weight off of you. The movement had you once more growing aware of the fact that he was still inside of you.

“Jokes on him,” he continued, that usual cocky smirk slipping onto his face. “Wasn’t that big of a problem to handle. And right now, this don’t feel remotely like a punishment.”

Quirking a brow back at him, a small grin tugged at your lips. “You want me to make it feel like one?” you teased.

Jax’s hand reached down, lightly swatting your ass as he grinned deviously at you. The gesture had you laughing, the sound causing the corners of his eyes to crease.

“Baby, this is your punishment for using that goddamn toy,” he reminded you.

“Not feeling very much like a punishment for me, either,” you joked back.

That devious expression on his face only grew, a hint of mischief glinting in his eyes suddenly. He leaned forward off the pillow, his teeth lightly mouthing at your bare shoulder as his eyes continued to hold your gaze.

“You want me to make it feel like one?” he asked, throwing your words back at you.

A shudder ran up your spine at the sultry tone of his voice before a sinful smirk pulled the corners of his lips upwards. You were definitely in for it tonight.

#jax teller x reader #jax teller smut #jax teller x you #jax teller #sons of anarchy #jax teller fanfiction #sons of anarchy fanfiction

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martincrushcameback · 2 days ago

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LOOK- Varmijet, to me, would be so happy being the most boring guy you'd ever meet with the most boring hobbies that somehow Torty finds totally endearing.

To me, Varmi is the kind of guy who, once he's finally settled with Torty, settles HARD into total boring domestic life. I'm talking dad belly on his skinny body, newspaper, house robe, silly fuzzy dog slippers his wife gave him, morning coffee and toast. I'm talking following the same exact boring routine every single day for the next 50 years.

I'm talking enjoying only the quietest, most introspective, and "old person" hobbies. Bird watching and model train label accuracy levels of mundane. Stamp collecting, paper airplanes, newspaper crossword puzzles, only reading books about 15th century hats or something.

Embracing house husband life because wow he doesn't have to do much to make their lives happy for once and her job is great so he doesn't HAVE to push himself to the extreme all the time. Making his wife breakfast because she is a whirlwind and he burns the eggs every time and every time she eats it anyways and tells him she likes it because they're HIS boring burnt eggs and he will not admit it would crush him if she ever pointed out he burnt them but she knows and she's not a great cook either.

His life sucked until he met her and then they fought because OBVIOUSLY what you do when you're attracted to a person is verbally dis them and cause bodily harm right? That's what his brothers always did??? But like NO she's perfect and soft and passionate and he wants to pull all his hair out and finally she's like ok you know what you're my passion project. And suddenly it wasn't him having to try and figure out How To Flirt And Be A Human Person, now she's just decided they're a couple and they can do couple things and he is massively introverted but she's basically the sun to him an all encompassing and terrifying ball of energy he adores way too much.

And so domestic married life has fixed this pathetic little meow meow of a man. Turns out life is a whole lot simpler when he just wants to chill and pet his weird cat that will not leave him alone and it chews on his slippers and coughs up hairballs on his pillow -never her pillow, how is that fair you little demon?- And he's happy and his wife is happy.

I feel in my heart that he's SUCH A BORING GUY who needs the enrichment of a very introverted and boring life of routines and soft pillows and coffee and crosswords and scrabble. Let the man know too many intricate facts about the history of old war planes that would bore anyone to tears EXCEPT Torty.

He's the guy who only knows how to hype one person: his wife, and nobody else. He will fight you in the pit if you dare look at her the wrong way but also he calls her names and she calls him names and they're allowed to only complain at each other and people think they hate each other and they're like "what gave you that idea i would die for him/her" and like two seconds ago they were threatening to murder each other over spilled coffee and mismatched socks and now she's braiding his hair while he tells her that he thinks "gerbil" is a stupid word.

@ranfordgallus i was having varmi thoughts

Picture him sitting in old-timey pjs with a house robe on and the stupid fuzzy dog slippers and he's eating a bowl of some generic plain oat cereal and he's focusing WAY too hard on the crossword with Zakitty in his lap trying to chew on his sleeve. He calls out to his wife "Torty what's an 8 letter phrase you tell to someone you care about?"

"I LOVE YOU?" She calls back.

He half chokes on his cereal. "TORTY YOU CAN'T JUST SAY THAT-!"

And she comes in and looks at him confused because- "I'm your WIFE??"

This is a daily occurrence.

#varmijet and tortuga #varmituga #look Varmi and Torty are on a constant spin cycle in my brain

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pacifymebby · 2 days ago

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I Just Ride // Chapter One

Danny's Girl

You listened with trembling fingers to the dial tone, the chirps of a phone ringing out at the other end of the line. You were barely holding back your sobs, you'd only managed to calm yourself down this much because you knew you would need to be able to get your words out if anyone answered the phone.

But nobody was answering the phone and you were running out of coins for the payphone. Running out of hope too.

"Hello?"

You gasped when you heard a mans low voice on the other end of the phone. You didn't know who he was, only that he wasn't Danny and it had been Danny you'd been desperately hoping would pick up the phone. Because there was no one on this earth you needed to hear, needed to see in this moment more than your Danny.

"Um... H... Hello.." you sniffled, "hi, is... Is d..."

"You alright sweetheart you ain't soundin very clear right now..." Said the man, he was speaking with a thoughtful kind of slowness, so calm it made you feel a little more calm yourself. It wasn't quite enough to quell your tears but it was enough to help you take another breath and speak slower, without stuttering.

"I need to speak to Danny... Is he, is he there? He told me if I needed to find him I should phone this number.."

"Oh," said the voice with a little sigh, "he did did he? Well I'm sorry sweetheart but if you wanna sweet talk your boyfriend you'll have to do it on somebody else's fuckin bill..."

"No!" You cried suddenly, a shrill choked sound escaping you and piercing Johnny's ears on the other end of the line, piquing his interest because suddenly you didn't sound so much like a girlfriend who wanted to rack up his bills, suddenly you sounded scared. Scared like a young girl in serious trouble.

"No!" You cried again, "please it's not like that it's not, I need Danny, I need..."

"Help? Yeah?" He asked you, thinking your fearful whimpers over in his mind. Wondering just who you were, wondering why you'd phoned his club in the middle of the night, what could have possibly happened to you to leave you so desperate and distressed.

"Yes!" You sobbed your panic catching up to you, another wave of tears choking you as you shook and cried into the reciever...

"Well alright sweetheart, Danny ain't here right now but I can get him for you, and I can come get you too, if you tell me where you are..."

Your heart plummeted at the news Danny wasn't there, that he wouldn't be coming to save you... That your only real option here was to put your trust in the hands of a random stranger, but what choice did you have? The only thing you did know for certain was that you couldn't stay here, alone, shivering in a smashed up phonebox whilst police sirens wailed two streets over. Trying you best not to cry because everybody knows that all the wrong men are drawn to girls in tears.

"Wha'da'ya say honey? You gonna tell me where you are, I'll come save you hey?" Asked the voice on the end of the line. There was something about his tone that sounded a little wiley, a little troublesome... That scared you. But there was something else too, something which drew you in... A softness you could sense, a gentleness. He was cooing to you down the line, trying to lure you in and as you blinked back your dewy tears you knew you had no other choice.

"Hey honey..." He said again, "you still there?"

And then you heard the dreaded pips beginning to go alerting you to the fact that you were running out of time. That if you were going to ask this stranger for help it really was now or never...

So without waiting a moment longer, your eyes squeezed shut in a panic, heart thudding in your chest, you blurted out the street name, hoping to god that your words made it through the line clear enough. And well if they didn't there was nothing you could do because no sooner had you choked out that last syllable had the tone flatlined and your call cut out.

As the line when dead you let the receiver fall and clatter against the machine, dangling limp from the coiled wire. You clutched your hand over your mouth to muffle your tears and then you sank down against the glass wall of the phone box all the way down to the floor.

You were wearing white, a delicate little babydoll style thing that you felt oh so stupid in now as you sunk down to the dirty floor and tried to swallow down your sobs.

It had been awful see. Your whole evening had been truly awful and you'd used your final dollars to call for Danny... Now you weren't even sure any good would come of that call after all.

You'd been working your close shift at a bar two streets away from where you were curled up on the floor now. It was a real dive of a joint, the kind of place that attracted what your mother way back home would have called "good for nothings" the kind of people your father would have shaken his head at and told you to pray for. "People like that y/n," he would have told you earnestly, "they've strayed too far from the lord and only a miracle will help them find their way back... For some of them you know, for some of them well, it's just too late..."

Well the scene you'd found yourself inadvertently caught in the middle of that evening had left you clutching your little gold crucifix necklace and uttering a prayer of sorts. You hadn't exactly been a good girl in a little while, but that night had seen you recite every word of the lord's prayer. Your voice is shaky and faithful.

See you'd left your parents home for the city, lured in by the glow of the lights each night, the clubs and bars, the people who seemed to be so different, more free... Your parents were good, salt of the earth small town people, law abiding, church going, god fearing citizens and whilst they'd always offered you love and shelter, you hadn't felt like you were really living... Hadn't felt like the life they were dreaming up for you, was any kind of life at all.

So you'd fled your tiny home town out in the sticks and moved to Chicago, found yourself a day job cleaning houses and snagged yourself some work as a barmaid for the nights. It was hard, exhausting even, but it was a taste of freedom you'd never had before and at least spending so long out of the house meant it was hard for you to really notice the abysmal living conditions in the roach ridden room where you were currently staying...

Now, two weeks ago you'd been sunbathing in the park close to your home, half asleep between shifts when you'd met Danny. He'd been reading not so far away from you and every now and then you'd caught him watching you over the pages of his novel. So you'd smiled at him, and you'd lowered your sunglasses to flutter your lashes the way you'd seen all the pretty girls on the silver screen do so many times before. That day you'd been wearing a little gingham two piece, your legs kicked back behind your head, your hair in two sweet little plaits hanging over your shoulders. Well, making eyes at Danny like that you'd felt like one of those pretty girls from the silver screen.

And when he approached you, stopped just in front of you and asked if he could photograph you for his college project, you'd blushed and cocked your head to one side. You'd felt so clever when you'd asked, "you say that to all the girls huh? Bet you've got a real collection..." He'd blushed and backtracked, tried to explain himself and you'd thought he was oh so sweet. You'd never met a college boy before and you felt so coy, so cool at the center of his attention as you'd spun him a slightly more mysterious, one which made your evenings spent cracking bottles of beer open for Chicago's most sleazy sound a little more glamorous.

Well, you didn't feel so glamorous now. Didn't feel so cool either.

In truth you felt real stupid and real helpless. The loneliness which had been creeping up at you slowly since you'd left home, really settling in tonight. It felt like a slap in the race, a real sharp stinging one. A cruel reminder that thanks to your own darn stupid actions, you were for the most part all alone in this unforgiving city. Hardly knew a soul.

If Danny hadn't have smiled at you that day in the park well, he was the only person you really knew and your little dates spent kissing in the park, holding hands getting all cute, they were as close to any kind of human connection you had had since you'd moved.

Without Danny you wouldn't have had a single number to call for help. Wouldn't have had anyone to turn to because nobody you shared that pit you lived in would have noticed if you didn't make it home from work.

No, in that moment, sitting on the floor shivering in your little white dress, you felt terribly terribly alone.

That's when you heard tapping on the glass. You looked up hesitantly, your heart soaring for a moment at the thought that perhaps this was some concerned citizen come to see that you were okay. You had after all been hiding in there now for awhile, and people would have been able to see your shadow curled up on the floor there...

You wiped at your tears hurriedly, trying to brush yourself up and stand, but when the stranger rapped on the glass again your heart plummeted and you shrunk away in fear, scolding yourself for giving yourself away so easily.

"Hey lady! Hurry it up there some of us got people to call, places to go, c'mon wha'da'ya doin in there?" They barked at you through the glass, their fist beating the door so violently that it shook and you whimpered, your eyes on the holes that had already been punched through. What would it really take for someone to make another?

So you stood quickly, scraping your knee on broken glass or a bottle cap or something as you tried to push yourself up onto your shaky legs and dust yourself down. You dabbed at your face with your dirty hands realising all too heartbreakingly late that all you'd done was smear dirty fingerprints across your cheeks and smudge your make up something awful.

"Wait your turn!" You tried to bark back, tried your best to be as loud and ferocious as you could so as to show this cold stranger you weren't to be messed with, but you knew when your voice cracked that you hadn't succeeded.

"God damnit lady get outa there!" They snapped back banging their fist on the glass once more.

Their temper startled you and you flinched back, your hand hovering over the door about to let yourself out. Your fear a stubborn lump in your throat you just couldn't swallow down. But then as they started rapping on the door again something snapped inside you, your temper flaring up because you really had had enough. After everything else you'd seen that night, the punches you'd narrowly avoided as you'd fled the chaotic scene in that smokey bar, this stranger poking and prodding at you, well it was the last thing you needed. It was more than you could handle.

So you drew in a deep breath and scrunched your eyes tight shut and as you barged out of that little telephone box you let out a scream of frustration loud enough to startle your stranger and see that they went stumbling back into a lamp post.

You wrapped your arms tight around yourself as you hurried forward, struggling to make a decent pace in your wedge sandals. You weren't exactly sure where you were going to go, knowing that you needed to stay on that street, stay close by so that if by some miraculous twist of fate Danny's friend (at least you hoped he was a friend) had come to save you, he would be able to find you.

You could hear whoever had been trying to get into the phonebox shouting at you from across the street, but you didn't look back to see the offensive hand gestures they were making. You were just glad they were only shouting. That they hadn't been some enraged lunatic with a gun they could start firing at you with. Those were the kinds of "crazies" your mother had always talked about. People you hadn't really believed in until three of them had started a punch up in your bar, smashing windows, firing shots, starting fires.

As you took shelter in a doorway and shrunk into the shadows you gazed across the street, your eyes set just above the rooftops, at the smouldering glow and the heavy smoke cloud which was still steadily rising above the buildings.

How long could a building like that burn for anyway?

You leant against the doorframe, the adrenaline of your little outburst already fading away, leaving you twice as lonely and twice as cold as before.

You'd left all your belongings at the bar when you'd fled, your little denim jacket and the purse which had had your house keys and your cash in it. That's why you'd been left with no choice but to phone Danny. Why you couldn't just go home.

And anyway, you didn't want to just go home. You were pretty sure you'd seen a man die tonight. You were pretty sure you'd seen hell open it's doors for a moment, the devils flames spilling out into the earthly world... How could you go home after that? No, you didn't just want Danny... You needed him. You needed the sanctuary of his arms around you, his kisses to your forehead. Though you weren't exactly sure he'd want to kiss you the state you were in just then.

What did it matter anyway, Danny wasn't coming...

Time dragged, every minute seemed to eek itself out longer than the last as you stood there shivering, tears in your eyes. You were doing your best to hold them in now, scared that another stranger could be even more cruel than the last, but every now and then one would spill over. Another salty streak of mascara and dirt trickling down your cheeks.

And that's when you heard it. Finally, after waiting so long alone in the dark. You heard the hum of an engine, the spitting thrum of a bike, and you knew it must be Danny's friend.

You saw the headlights warm as he turned the corner and began to slow down. He was looking for you. Heading for the phonebox which would probably now be empty. Your heart got stuck in your throat at the thought he might leave without you having seen the empty box and you dashed from your hiding place in a panic. A choked up little "hey!" Escaping you before you lost your voice.

Luckily for you that choked out little cry for help was enough for your stranger to hear you. For him to recognise your desperate tone, that sorry shake in your trembling voice. He left his engine grumbling but raised his hand to wave you over.

Something about the way he sat back on his bike, one hand resting in the pocket of his jeans, the other suspended in a still wave to you, seemed so calm and so cool that for a moment you didn't even question that the man who had come to your rescue was one of Those men... A biker... Another subset of Americans your mother had warned you about. Another kind of person you'd not yet encountered out in the real world...

"You Danny's girl?" He asked when you got a little closer. Close enough to see the grease on his hands and his jeans, to see the cigarette hanging idly from between his lips, the deep wrinkles in his forehead that told you he was much older than you... You hesitated. Stopped still in the middle of the road, your little white dress dirty and rippling in the slight night breeze.

"Uhuh..." You managed, your voice timid despite your best efforts to appear anything but.

The stranger turned his headlights on you and spotlit you and in that moment all his suspicions were confirmed. That you were very young, very naive, and very much in trouble deep.

"Well hey," he said, his eyes flickering over you, taking in the mess the night had made of you, "what happened to you?"

AN// this is kinda just a little intro I've had sitting in my drafts for so long... If you want me to tag you in future updates please let me know x

#the bikeriders #the bikeriders fanfiction #danny lyon x reader #johnny davis x reader

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