#I LOVE YOU BONNIE HUNT!

[rosalie-starfall]

I FREAKING LOVE THIS MOVIE!

I FREAKING LOVE BONNIE HUNT!

I FREAKING LOVE STEVE MARTIN!

AND I WILL FEEL NO SHAME FOR HOW MUCH I ADORE THIS MOVIE. IT WILL HOLD A SPECIAL PLACE IN MY HEART UNTIL MY DYING BREATH!

*little known fact. Up until Everything Everywhere All At Once came out this was the movie I had seen the most times in the theater at 13 (a bakers dozen if you will.)

endless list of my favourite couples:

23. Kate & Tom (cheaper by the dozen)

[rosalie-starfall]

Bonnie Hunt as Kate

Only You 1994

[bonkwrites]

OBSESSED with the whole american x 141 man combo. smut ahead!

Not necessarily giving up your identity when you move out of the US, just wanting to explore different cultures and see new things. Then you meet one of the boys, maybe it’s Kyle or Johnny, and they introduce you to your actual, literal husband within a week of knowing you. And Simon Riley isn’t a bad guy, they tell you, just a little rough around the edges. And you’re young, in a new country, you flew on a plane for the first time to get here and it didn’t go down so you feel invincible– and you fuck Simon Riley. 

The mask isn’t even in the equation, he won’t wear it when he’s not on a mission or on base, and he’s got a scar on his cheek that’s textured when you grab his face and kiss him. He tastes like bourbon. You taste like vodka and lime. He lays you down on your hotel mattress and spreads your legs and calls you love while he’s fucking you. 

“Fuck, lovie, like that. Take it like that.” you thought maybe the accent would make it too funny to be sexy but there might be something to be said about pavlov’s dog and the bell here…. 

He’s so big and so on top of you and he’s pushing your legs to your chest to pin you underneath him while he fucks you. You feel sorry for the other people on the floor the next morning but in moment all you can think is Simon, Simon, Simon and all you can do is beg him don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop– 

You’re so happy you got your IUD before you started traveling. 

Simon says sometimes he thinks he did it in the wrong order. You fucked and then he took you out to dinner. You tell him sometimes you wish he would have let you ride him that night. He remedies your wishes immediately, all the time. 

Did you know there’s only one Taco Bell in all of England? You crave chalupa’s so intensely that you once rode a train for an hour and a bus for three just to have the worst Taco Bell of your life. Did you know that almost 50% of Americans own a gun or are proficient with one? Color 141 the most surprised they’ve ever been when you go to a gun range while they’re stationed in Texas and Simon tries to teach you gun safety but you correct him the entire time. 

“I used to go hunting with my dad, Si, I know this.” and then you have decently good grouping that’s just a little to the left and Johnny tries to show you how it’s really done and– misses entirely. 

“Is that how it’s done, Johnny?” you taunt, smiling so cheekily that Simon can’t keep his own smile off his face. 

“Listen up, bonnie, I’ve done more training-” 

“Doesn’t seem like it to me.” you mumble. Simon swear he can see the steam coming out of Johnny’s ears. 

“Lass, so help me God, if you don’t-” 

“Poor baby, Johnny,” you frown, still taunting him, your hips sway as you walk up to him and take his face into your hands, “Did you get beat in a shooting contest by a civvie? Will you live to see another day?”  You shake his head in your hands and Johnny goes red for a completely different reason than his pride and anger. Johnny’s hands twitch, Simon can see him reaching for your sides as you release his face and step away from him. Soon, Simon wants to tell him, she’s going to tell you soon.

[witchthewriter]

𝐓𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡-𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐃𝐮𝐭𝐲 𝐌𝐞𝐧

⤷ gender neutral, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!

Warnings: fluffy fluff

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ | ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ ᴵᴵ

Being on deployment meant no proper affection. Being on deployment for two months without it was making your husband go insane. When he got home, he had never been so affectionate.

𝑪𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝑱𝒐𝒉𝒏 𝑷𝒓𝒊𝒄𝒆

It felt like the journey home was excruciating. John was clinging to his back for dear life. His knuckles going white from how tight he squeezed.

Coming to his driveway; the beginning of a long winding gravel road. Eventually, he came to the cottage door and swung it open (you left it unlocked when you knew he was coming home).

As soon as he saw you, his hands slipped around your waist and lifted you up, spinning you around with his head in the crook of your neck "Ooh- John! I missed you too but I'm going to knock something over-"

"Don't care-" he mumbled.

His face buried in the space between your shoulder and neck. Taking in your smell, grasping you just as hard as he was grasping his bag.

"Oh John-" you cooed, stroking his hair, running your hands up and down his back.

"I'm sorry darling," he says moving his head to look at you face to face. "I just- fuck. I just missed you so goddamn much."

And then he went back to molding himself against you, giving you small kisses here and there.

𝑺𝒊𝒎𝒐𝒏 𝑹𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒚

You had always seen a different side to Simon then other people. The gruff exterior didn't rattle you one bit. Well... that's because he never spoke to you how he spoke to everyone else.

He always treated you with love, respect, dignity and equality. Not something that everyone can say.

That's how you knew he was going to be your life partner.

And as his partner, you know how physical touch means to him.

He isn't one to ask for comfort, but will initiate it. Particularly when he's been on deployment for a long time. That's when you get puppy dog Simon, who keeps you by his side.

"Are you alright?" You said in a quiet, soothing voice. Simon's head was resting on your shoulder as you watched the new Bridgerton.

He'd been quiet for a while, not unusual; but the comfortable silence had been tension-gripped since he came home yesterday.

"Yeah," your husband grumbled, shifting his head from your shoulder to your lap.

One of your hands was on his head, dragging your fingers over his scalp. The other hand rested on his neck. You felt the goosebumps on his skin, a small smile on your lips.

𝑱𝒐𝒉𝒏𝒏𝒚 𝑴𝒂𝒄𝑻𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒔𝒉

Every time Johnny came home, you would hear him before you'd see him. As an extrovert, he's vocal about the lack of affection he's recieved

"BONNIE, I'M HOME!" He continuously bellows in his loud thick Scottish accent. Walking around the house, practically hunting you in your own home.

Dropping whatever you were holding onto the bed, you raced down from the bedroom and nearly squealed.

"Johnny!" You yelled, helping him locate you.

"There ye are!" He replied, thudding towards you with his big boots still on his feet.

In a quick movement, he scoops you into his arms and presses you to his chest. A move you were all too familiar with now.

His hands grip you tight, his neck dipping to press into your neck. He took a big whiff.

"Are you smelling me, again?"

"Aye. Is that a problem?" He replied, not loosening his grip on you. Nor letting you move.

𝑲𝒚𝒍𝒆 𝑮𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒄𝒌

Your loverboy, always so tender and caring. He never puts his needs before your own.

So instead of rushing inside and nearly bulldozing you over, he's gentle in his search for you (although he never needs to search too long)

It's usually you who initiates the affection.

It's like Kyle is still decompressing from his time away.

And you're all too happy to help him. His affection makes you feel fuzzy inside.

But whenever he comes home, you want to be the first to initiate; you want to be the romantic one.

And he appreciates it to no end. He feels so loved when you woo him after coming home.

"Thank you, love." He whispers in your ear as you hold him in your emrace. The bouquet of flowers in his hand. A slight blush over his face.

"Anything, and I mean anything, for you Kyle." You whisper back, planting kisses over him.

𝑲𝒐̈𝒏𝒊𝒈

Your huge Austrian husband does his best not to wake you in the early hours of the morning.

And even though he has the squeaks in the floorboards memorised, his heavy foot falls still give him away. Subconsciously wanting you to wake.

You weren't really sleeping anyhow. You were too excited for him to return home.

Hearing your bedroom door open, you instantly called out your husband's name.

"It's me schatz! Just me-" he said quickly. The tension eased from your body and you audibly sighed. Months of pent up stress and fear (for both his safety and your own) whooshed away.

Kicking the blankets from your body, you rolled out of bed and jumped into König's arms.

They were outstretched - ready for you.

He was always ready for you when he came home. Nearly a tradition where you practically throw yourself into his arms.

"Do you know how much I missed you?" The same words he says every time he comes home.

"Yes," you whisper back to him. Because your heart always aches the same amount as his.

[the-froschamethyst4]

Spurs and Chaps

𖤐Pairing: Bounty Hunter! König x Outlaw! Reader

𖤐Pronouns: She/Her

𖤐Warnings: smut, fluff, language, old friend to lovers, enemies to lovers, mention of violence, guns, P in V, age gap, groping, nipple play, badass Y/n, kissing/making out,

𖤐Summary: König the bounty hunter had to bring in outlaw Y/n but does he really have to bring her in?

————

————

"Little lady you must have me as a fool?"

"No, sir."

Y/n puts the tip of her heel into the dirt as she flirts with the man in front of her. She just wanted one thing from this man, his money.

"Oh yes!"

"Fuck," loud moans filled the room, the man trying to keep his pants up as he has Y/n pinned to the wall behind her, he bucks his hips up into her, she moans, gripping his hair and kissing his lips.

They both fell on the soft bed behind the man, Y/n undressing herself, her holster on her thigh containing her pistol, she kisses down his chest to his stomach, one hand guiding down and then other resting on her gun.

He looks down at her and sees her hand on her gun.

"Hey, wait a min-" before he could speak another word, he was shot with a lead bullet between his eyes.

"Fucking disgusting," she says, getting off the guy and grabbing her skirt and dirty tank top, she digs around for his sack of gold and soon found it, she smiles and sticks it inside her shirt. She finds her boots and her long black leather coat, she heads out of the whore house and grabs her hat on the way out.

"Another one bites the dust," she says, opening the satchel on her horse's side sticking the gold sack into with all the others. She starts to sum as she gets on the back of her horse. She clicks her tongue and starts walking out of the bum rusted town.

She was acting cool and collected as if she say didn't just kill someone and robbed them.

----------

"Heard she's in Rosewood...you might want to check there...König."

"Tell me again...who am I after?"

"Her name is Y/n L/n, her bounty the highest I've ever seen, even for a woman, $790,000, not even Bonnie's bounty was this high. Was raised by her father who turned out to be Good Old Cyrus L/n, robbed the whole North City blind, was caught and rotted away in prison. Y/n was taken to an orphanage where she raised herself to become an outlaw, it started off as candy stealing then soon made it's way up from pick pocketing, now, she kills then takes." The Sheriff says.

"Sir, her last slighting was in Rosewood, now she's being on the move," his deputy says.

"Well, then, I guess you better get moving, Bounty Hunter."

"I'll see you when I have her."

"If we see you again," the Sheriff says.

König loaded up his horse, clicked his tongue and went South to Rosewood hoping he'll run into Y/n.

---------

It's been a few days, and Y/n has settled into a small town called Winslow, it was like her little hideaway, everyone knows who she is, but no one will ever give her away to the Sheriff and his Deputies.

Y/n sits on the back porch of her little home, she was in some jean shorts, and small white tank top that showed off her hardened nipples and her black boots.

Y/n was cleaning her old clothes she worn, she goes back into her lovely home and she grabs some whiskey from her top cabinet and opened the bottle, chugging some of it. Heading back outside to hang the rest of the clothes.

"Y/n..." She stops what she is doing and turns to see.

"König? How's the Bounty Hunting going?" She asked, knowing he's after her.

"Oh you know...I'm here for a little someone," he says.

"Me?" She says, her back turned to him.

"It's been a while, I just wanted to...catch up with you before, I take you to the Sheriff."

"How? Hmm? What could you have in mind, Bounty Hunter," she giggles at him, she stood up to face him, he looks down at her getting a view of her chest.

"You're a tease, just like I remember," he says, putting his hand on her cheek.

König and Y/n were old friends, even though they grew up differently, Y/n was taught to steal and be a bad person and König was taught to be a good guy. Growing up differently but still how became friends. They don't even know how it happened, and when they got older König picked up being a bounty hunter and Y/n was on the run from law enforcement.

Now did König and Y/n have some sort of relationship? Yes. Again they don't know how it happened, it was just a simple one night that turned into 3, then 4, next they they knew it 5, but it had to stop, it would look bad for a bounty hunter to be sleeping with a bounty.

It would ruin König's reputation.

"Did you take the job because of the money or to see me, again?" She asked him.

"I guess the money...I didn't know I was going after you till I was called in to help."

"Called in? You mean, you didn't see my WANTED paper? The Sheriff called you in?"

"Yeah. He asked for...the best of the best," he says.

"I see," she says, she walks past him, her hand sliding on his chest as she was heading inside. "If you want...you can come inside, König."

he smirks and follows her inside the house. She kicked her boots off at the back door.

"Take your shoes off, I don't want dirt tracked through my house."

"Since when did you ever care about the dirt?"

"Since I've lived here, I love my home, and want it clean and nice and neat," she says.

"But you kill for fun."

"And I can keep my personal life out of my work life."

"Killing is work?"

"Yep," she then turns to him. "Tea?"

"Water is fine," he says.

Y/n gave him some water and then watched him chug it, she smirks up at him, she bends down and kisses his chest down to his stomach, lifting his shirt and kissed his toned stomach.

"Liebe (love)."

"Do you think, I'll ruin your reputation?" she asks, looking up at him, he cups her chin.

"You know you will," he says.

"Good," she says, standing up and kissing his lips. She then pulls down his mask, "There's that face, I've missed...I could ruin you so easily," she teased.

"You ruining me? Doubt it," he chuckles.

König picks her up and slams her back to her wall, her legs wrapped around his waist, she then kisses his neck, he groans, he plops on her messy couch.

König then removes his jacket, and removes his shirt, he then tries to unbuckle his pants, but Y/n ends up helping him. Pulling his pants down and taking them off him, she kisses his bulge, he groans, cupping her chin.

"Fuck, I missed you," he says, leaning down kissing her temple, she moves back to laying on top of him.

"I've missed you too," she says, kissing his lips.

His hands roamed over her body. She then sits up and starts removing her clothes, König then helps her removing her tank top and kissed between her breasts. Kissing her breast and licking at her bud.

She moans, holding his head and playing with his hair, and kissing the top of his head. König then messes with her shorts pulling them off.

König pumps himself a few times, before sliding himself into her. She put her head back moaning his name and squeezing around him, he puts his hands on her waist, she starts rocking back and forth, König smirks, the sex was nice, and soft. It's suppose to be meaningless sex, but it's hard when König still loves Y/n.

Y/n looks down him, leaning over him, moving her hair on one side of head and then kissing his lips. She then starts moving a bit faster.

"No, no, keep going slow, take your time, don't rush anything," he says.

"It's just been so long."

"I know," he cups her face and starts kissing her face, then under her chin and then her lips again.

Y/n looks down at him, he slowly starts to sit up, holding her close to his body, as he bucks his hips up but she started to do the work again, bouncing up and down on him.

"God, you feel so good," König says. He loves feeling her gummy walls holding his cock inside of her.

"You do too," she moans, putting her head back. His hands then start going up her chest and squeezing her chest and playing with her nipples. She moans and looks at him.

"Are you g-going to turn me in?" She asked.

"Do you want me to turn you in?"

"No...I want you to myself, I don't want to be in jail," she moans.

"Aww~" he teases her.

Y/n then could feel herself about to cum, König smirks as cum shoots up into Y/n. Y/n smirks and then bounces a bit more and felt herself squirt on his lower stomach.

He smirks, chuckles a bit, Y/n then leans forward and then kissed his lips.

----------

König laid naked on Y/n's bed, Y/n next to him, he could turn her in so easily, but he can't do that to her. König looks over at her and moves her hair from her face.

"You can go if you want to," she says.

"No...not yet...I want to be here with you," he says.

"You can leave."

"No, not yet," he says, moving closer to her and holding her to his chest.

König kisses her forehead and kissed her lips, he holds her close and moves her hair from her face.

-----------

König was on his horse, looking at the house being light up by small lamps, he was leaving for the night, he doesn't know if he'll come back and see her again, but he wonders if he should put a small hold on bounty hunting and come live with Y/n for a little while.

He travels back to West Dale to see the Sheriff and tell him the news.

That he could not find Y/n.

Y/n woke up to no one next to her, she pats the cold empty spot next to her and thought about König, he's been gone for...so many years and now he came back to have sex with her and left, he didn't bring her in, so did he care about her?

----------

It's been weeks now. Y/n was on her front porch, she was doing some house work, putting up nice plants, around the house.

"Need any help?" Y/n stops and turns to the man's voice.

"König?"

"Have you done any killing lately?" He chuckles.

"Never," she teased.

"Could you help me with the other hanging plants?"

"Sure, liebe (love)."

[agendabymooner]

MASTERLIST: A-N F1 DRIVERS by agendabymooner

LINK TO MASTERLIST: O-Z F1 DRIVERS by agendabymooner

LINK TO SOMETHING SINFUL (SMUT) MASTERLIST by agendabymooner (MINORS DNI)

note: I CANNOT OFFICIALLY FIT MY WORKS IN ONE POST 😭 so here is my alphabetical f1 masterlist!!!

legends/genre:

a = angst g = general fic hc = hurt/comfort h = humour

s = smut (minors, dni) mc = mature content (minors, dni) f = fluff

★ - newly added ♡ - favourite piece

ALSO CHECK OUT:

MOONY'S CHARACTER DIRECTORY

MOONY'S FILIPINO CHARACTERS DIRECTORY

alex albon (aa23)

front page lover (thai!kpop idol!ofc)

keeper, smau: polly berkshire has obscure interactions with her thirsty boyfriend and it's safe to say that they love each other.

fashion week, smau: the williams driver and polly always got something for everyone to talk about.

double aa, socmed snapshot: a series of instagram stories in which alex is a dad to alice albon

own it, smau: alex's hidden talent is being a good boyfriend with a dash of photographer. ★

fernando alonso (fa14)

the breakup and makeup series (pro wrestler!ofc)

time to rock and roll, fic: the first time beatrice staedtlander and fernando alonso had broken up. (hc) ♡

heaven, smau: back in 2000s, fernando alonso and beatrice anastasia 'trish' staedtlander were every racing and wrestling fans' couple. years after, trish alonso became a mother and a wife... and the grid's crush of the season. fernando was certainly not happy so what's a better way to remind everyone that he was hers? (f, g, h)

from the ground up, smau: tino and tiago alonso were the twins that trish had given birth to at the age of 40, and everyone understood now why she didn't make it to the 2024 canadian gp. (f)

look what god gave her, smau: beatrice 'trish' alonso survived fernando's messy image better than anybody did. (f, g, h)

bonnie and the fame

maneater, smau: bonnie catherine sutton was carlos sainz's ex-girlfriend who returned to the f1 scene as a different woman. turns out, she's fernando alonso's fiancée (f)

ego, smau: never underestimate a woman's self-esteem, it might end up wounding you more than it would her.

oliver bearman (ob8)

ice ice baby, smau: kimi raikkonen's daughter romania raikkonen debuted in formula one with her friends AND it's safe to say that the iceman doesn't like ollie that much.

icy in saudi, smau: aroma raikkonen was ollie's biggest supporter in his f1 debut. plus, she also had her personal 'reverse harem' consisting of her best friends in the f2 grid. ★

ollie on thin ice(man), scenario: kimi raikkonen had proven himself to be oliver bearman's biggest hater at some point. ★

jenson button (jb22)

pride and pettiness (x british!actress!ofc)

one, 2004: in which, ada and jenson met for the first time.

the mr. darcy type, smau: much like the popular love interest, jenson should have known better than to say things that wouldn't impress a woman he grew interested in. OR ada abbott made sure that he worked hard for her time and attention. (f) ♡

shunt the hell up! (x hunt!driver!ofc)

shunt your lovers, kiss your enemies. smau: it was funny how enemies can be your teammate AND your lover at the same time. OR jj hunt, the daughter of the late james hunt, was jenson's biggest rival until a certain baby predicament cost her her entire racing career. (g) ♡

better enemies than strangers, smau: the brawn gp docuseries discussed jj hunt and the surprising turn of events in her rivalry/partnership with jenson in 2009. ★

other works

affection, blurb: in which, jenson learned that he should just say it without being a little too drunk.

pierre gasly (pg10)

newsflash, smau: ensley soleil doesn’t like playboys. too bad, pierre gasly’s down bad for her (attention and love). (f, g, h)

odds, fic: their timing was always wrong, maybe that's why pierre should consider making it even for the two of them as she writes songs about him and their courtship.

lowkey, smau: fans thought that pierre moved on from ensley four months after publicly declaring his (love?) for her. funnily enough... (f, g, h)

indigo, chatfic + smau: there's really no reason for pierre gasly to be jealous over some man that ensley wrote 'high school in jakarta' about. not when she wrote one or more songs about the frenchman. (f) ♡

high school in jakarta, fic: meeting ensley’s close friends would also mean that he’d have to meet her high school sweetheart, who he believed he couldn’t compete against until ensley ensured that his two-day attendance wouldn’t be spoiled by some guy who couldn’t let go of some memories she couldn’t even remember. ♡ 

dancing with the devil, smau: ensley soleil doesn't care about what people are saying about her relationship with pierre especially now that she's married to him. (f)

vintage, smau: pierre gasly is a husband and a fanboy of ensley soleil gasly amongst other things. (f)

hot dad era, socmed snapshot: pierre gasly. 30% f1 driver 70% dilf.

other works

do i make you nervous, blurb: lesson learned: just date her first rather than being friendly in the bed.

lewis hamilton (lh44)

stevie and lewis (hearth sister!ofc)

thick and thin, smau + fic: lewis should know better than underestimating her and her capabilities to yearn for him for years. (hc)

hands on and paws on, socmed snapshot: lewis is a stay-at-home dad to lottie hamilton and his best boy, roscoe, happens to watch his mummys everywhere she goes as she carries baby hamilton #2.

the hamilton daycare, fic: lewis is already a stay-at-home dad so what makes his day out in monaco with his two kids any different? (f) (2/3 of daddy, debriefed!)

where the bad girls are (kpop idol!ofc)

lifted, smau: lewis is married to a kpop idol who happened to be one of the girls to shape the image of female groups in the korean pop community.

crowned couple (x miss universe!ofc)

the couple of the universe, smau: lewis is a careless being this season and everyone's wondering why.

melody series (x performer!ofc)

summary: with her sharp eyes focused on her audience, a burlesque performer who went under the name of melody returned to rythme romantique, an entertainment lounge which exclusively caters to the wealthiest people of monaco — or in this case, to the people with a status that are recognized by all. her three exclusive performances were meant to be a closure for her connections in the principality. still, a certain formula one driver saw it as an opportunity to reconnect with his former flame after two years of her absence. felicity vos learned that this was a rich man’s world and that he could do whatever he wanted, but she also realized that the agreement they settled on years ago was corrupted the moment he expressed his love for her. 

one, million dollar man: monaco was a world of glitz and glamour that she left two years ago. returning to the principality clearly was a huge mistake as she found herself talking to the man who swore to nothing but his love for her.

two, this is what makes us girls: "decorum isn't something you can buy with money or fame." or what did lewis really want from her and why did he show up on the second night of her performance?

arthur leclerc (al12)

the scheming schumachers, smau: sunny schumacher is mick's cousin and what does a family do? they attract arthur leclerc to get him away from his best friend, who happens to be mick's girlfriend. thankfully, the schumacher cousin is something of a welcome distraction for the monegasque.

charles leclerc (cl16)

the leclerc boys series (x hearth sister!ofc)

debunking drama, smau: prequel to of long lines and names; aimee hearth, the mclaren media manager and one of the famous hearth sisters, was rumoured to be dating lando norris. a certain monegasque's baffled reaction became a trending topic in twitter as he counteracts the rumour with an instagram post of his lover. (f, h)

many kids with many names, smau: everyone found out that aimee and charles were having not only one but two babies. turned out, those two babies have at least a million name. (h) ★

of long lines and names, fic: five kids with (almost) five names under six years. OR the three pregnancies that charles had witnessed told him how motherhood and memories could come in two sets of twins and a boy that looked so much like him. (f)

the leclerc daycare, fic: before his last set of twins were born, charles had to watch his boys on his own- not exactly by himself when he's got esteban and pierre acting as his right hand men. (f) (1/3 of daddy, debriefed!) ♡

about names, scenario fics

summary: extension to of long lines and names and the leclerc daycare; charles and aimee's boys and their names go hand in hand OR times when the couple had to tell their kids that their names were signs of love and respect for their namesakes.

one, an amazing boy with an amazing name: hervé's anger left his parents confused after he refused to be called by his first name. thankfully, his mamé pascale had an easy access to his heart that eventually led to an answer to his sadness.

two, the wingman of maranello: jules leclerc learned two things as he travelled to italy with his father: he had an uncle named uncle teague and uncle teague had a best friend that was once charles' godfather.

other pieces

"slut", smau: charles' ex trashed his new girlfriend a while ago, but too bad he wasn't really into the thought of making music with anyone but lou villar.

breaking curses not hearts, smau: frankie bardot atkinson was also known for her curse in the film industry. after breaking her long streaked curse and finally won an oscar, was it finally charles' time to break his curse at monza gp?

kevin magnussen (km20)

family ties, smau: lando norris forgot that his brother-in-law is in the grid with him and lola norris magnussen couldn't help but make of her brother for it.

lando norris (ln4)

lover era (x alessandro sister!writer!ofc)

london boy, smau: nicola 'cola' alessandro moved to britain and what's a better way to introduce yourself to england than taking a trip around with a certain mclaren driver? (f, g, h)

i think he knows, smau: grazia nichols published her debut novel based off formula one, and a fan could have sworn that the the book bf - nolan langford - was based off of lando's character as a driver altogether. (f, g, h)

✿ honey, honey! series masterlist - lando norris x ofc (honey-sue lewis) ft. sidemen

other pieces

too good to be true, smau: just a brief overview of lando’s relationship with a countryside girl who, beyond her introverted tendencies, was an unhinged, unserious yet amazing mother and girlfriend. ★

f1 drivers (general)

✿ 9 to 5 series masterlist - f1 grid x ofc (lester alessandro) ft. fictional wolff kids

✿ f1 voicemail blurbs - series of blurbs with voicemails left by the drivers. ★

too much caring, smau, sv5 + jb22: kpop idol juno was assumed to have cheated on retired driver jenson button with his best mate sebastian vettel. oh how wrong those people were...

[mockerycrow]

Could you do Head canons of how 141 + König would react to reader flinching at their movements? Like they raise their hand/arm and reader kind of cowers away?

I found your page tonight and LOVE how you write them! Keep up the amazing work and thank you💖

141 + König Reactions To GN!Reader Flinching

cod masterlist

A/N: THANK YOU SO MUCH IM KICKING AND GIGGLING RN ILY ANON I LOVE YOU ALL THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ALMOST 400!! i also feel very iffy about this aaghhhdhfjcj

I’m having a 400 follower celebration!

-> John Price

He raises his arm quickly to grab something from a top shelf and that’s when he spots your flinch—your arm comes shooting up like you’re about to grab said arm, your eyes slightly wide. Price pauses and you quickly lower your arm, clearing your throat like nothing happened, like that didn’t just happen.

if you’re military; I don’t think he would be too concerned because it’s quite common for soldiers who have been through traumatic battles to have insanely fast reflexes, to be ready at a moment’s notice. He does, however, nudge you a bit. You glance at him and Price raises his eyebrows and asks the silent question with his face—‘are you alright?’

if you’re a civilian; that’s when he gets properly worried. You have no reason to have that fast of a reflex, so he ends up staring at you for a moment. Price doesn’t ask you about it in the moment, but he makes sure to keep his movements slower around you and he gives himself a reminder to gently ask about it later—just in case it’s sensitive.

-> Kyle Garrick

You and Kyle are walking in the local park when this happens. An American football is thrown and strays from it’s course and Kyle notices a flying object coming near. His hands fly up and catch the football in an instant and you couldn’t help but flinch, putting your own hand up to grab his in a defensive position.

if you’re military; Kyle throws the football back and quietly apologizes to you with a kiss to your temple; he knows all too well about having your instincts triggered by normal everyday life. It’s not that big of a deal in hindsight, but he knows how it is.

if you’re a civilian; Kyle throws the football back and asks if you’re alright, at first he isn’t sure if he accidentally hit you or not by the way you reacted. You quietly confirm you’re alright and Kyle looks at you with a concerned face when you’re dodging his eyes a bit. You sigh. “Later, I promise.”

-> John MacTavish

You and Soap decided to go out to a rage room together for fun. You get suited up and fix your goggles onto your face, giggling at how Soap looks. He hums and picks out a baseball bat—he doesn’t realize how close you are to him when he swings the baseball bat up and violently smashes a vase.

if you’re military; Soap is profusely apologizing, one for not looking out and two because he knows these actions can come off as aggressive. “M’so sorry, bonnie! Didnae see you there, are you alright??” Soap makes sure everything is alright and he makes sure there’s a good distance next swing.

if you’re a civilian; He apologizes to you, but this time he doesn’t really realize you might’ve flinched for a different reason. You were standing a bit too close so he would likely think it’s from the swing, but he would check in on you anyway, loud with his apologies.

-> Ghost

He is oddly silent for his size, so it’s a common occurrence for him to accidentally sneak up on you and often make an announcement of his appearance with movement. Your hand comes shooting out when you finally notice him next to you and your fingers wrap around his wrist, your eyes wide, like an animal being hunted—just for a second. You quickly let go of his wrist with an apology.

if you’re military; he would probably tease you on needing to brush up your detection skills and listen a little closer, but it’s not like he’d purposely keep doing it to get at you. Ghost would also chalk it up to your military instincts.

if you’re a civilian; this is where Ghost gets worried because he knows the signs of abuse. Even if you’re just a very flinchy person, that doesn’t stop him from subtly hinting that you can help him anything important. I imagine Ghost a bit emotionally constipated so he struggles to outright say it, but he’s in your corner if you need him.

-> König

You two were walking down the base’s sidewalk together and you were about to go ahead, forgetting to look both ways. König’s arm suddenly shoots out in front of you to stop you, resulting in your hands hastily grabbing his arm, nearly shoving it away from you. You quickly let go and clear your throat.

if you’re military; könig would apologize to you for startling you, he knows how jumpy people can be after long missions but it was necessary to keep you safe. He would definitely eye a you little longer due to your wide eyed look, and maybe he would ask you about that later if he begins to overthink the situation.

if you’re a civilian; He would apologize immensely and claim that it was for your safety, asking if he startled you and that he’s sorry. If you’re a bit winded from the sudden action, he definitely notices. König asks softly if he can talk to you about important stuff later that day because he needs to know why you reacted that way and how he can prevent that reaction.

[deadlyflames]

Abigail + The Invitation with a Klonnie twist

Klaus successfully broke his curse in 1492 and, consequently, Hope was born much earlier.

She is the apple of her father’s eye and he does little to curb her temper nor to temper her bloodlust.

But all children, even the immortal ones, crave the love of a mother.

Xxx

Sorry Im late Klonnie fandom! This is part 1 of 3 parts that I have planned - spoilers for Abigail (kinda) if you havent seen it

xxx

Hope isn’t in her room. In fact, she isn’t anywhere in the compound.

Which means she is likely in the hunting house.

When Klaus arrives, he finds evidence of carnage throughout the decrepit house. He sighs in exasperation as he searches the grounds for his daughter.

He finds her in the library, drenched in blood from head to toe, matching the blood that coated the walls and floors.

It’s vampire blood. The blood of a newborn, and the stench of it permeates the room. He'd have to compel several humans to scrub down the entire library.

Whatever mischief his daughter was up to tonight, he was going to have a stern talk with her about playing with her food.

A young woman faces Hope with her back to Klaus. Much like his daughter, she is covered in blood. But he can hear her pounding heart.

A mortal woman.

Hope sees him before the woman notices his presence, and the soft expression on her face shifts.

“Father!”

The woman turns and stumbles back in shock when she sees him standing before her. Klaus examines her face and he can see she's a pretty thing beneath the gore that cakes her skin and clothes.

But there is something familiar about her features.

“Klaus.” Even though she whispers his name, he recognizes her voice.

He recognizes the fire that burns in those olive eyes, even as they are wide with fear.

This was the little Bennett witch that tried to kill him the last time he visited to Mystic Falls.

Seems Hope was playing her old games again. Bringing a few of his enemies to this house and hunting them down through the night for her entertainment.

In her attempt to back away from him, the Bennett witch slips in the pool of blood and falls to the ground.

A vicious grin curls at Klaus’ lips as he watches her try to scramble away.

��Not that same plucky teen witch anymore, are you?”

“Father, don’t!” Hope’s voice fades into the background as he advances on his prey. “You don't understand!”

”I can smell your fear.” The witch flinches as his fangs grow and his eyes darken.

“Please stop!” Hope yells, but he ignores her.

“I can taste it.” Klaus snaps his teeth and though the Bennett witch grimaces, her eyes begin to harden. If she needed to fight him for her life, no matter how tired she may be or how unlikely she was to succeed, she would.

Hope does not allow things to go any further and she quickly stands between him and the witch. “She saved my life!”

“Hope. Move.” His voice is low with warning. Despite his attention being on the Bennett witch, he was cross with his daughter. She never should have been putting herself at risk and playing these games with his enemies in the first place.

Hope does not falter and her face remains as hard and cold as stone. ”She was here when you weren’t.”

Klaus straightens. “I came when you needed me.”

Hope says nothing but she holds out her hand. When Klaus takes it, he sees the events that transpired. The scheme Hope concocted in order to get several former foes and annoyances into one place. And how things went awry when one of her intended victims, a siphoner, turned himself into a heretic. Half witch and half vampire. How Bonnie Bennett fought tooth and nail in order to kill the heretic and save Hope’s life.

Beneath it all, he feels his daughter’s pain. Her loneliness. Her desperate desire to be seen and heard and cared for by her father. The kindling of fondness she had developed for the clever and plucky Bennett witch.

And finally, she shares with him the secret wish she now has, hopeful for him to grant it.

As Klaus sifts through his daughter’s thoughts and emotions, the Bennett witch slowly stands from the floor with a wary look.

Hope releases her father’s hand with a pout, her eyes wide and shining.

“Can we, father?” she pleads.

Klaus sighs deeply. He never could refuse his daughter anything. Even after all these centuries.

“Very well.”

Klaus turns his attention to the witch (Bonnie. Her name was Bonnie) once more, and she stays resolute when their eyes lock.

She was only a teenager the last time he saw her. A pretty young girl, righteous and impulsive, who managed to harness the power of her ancestors and drive him out of her town. She has grown into a beautiful young woman now, hardened and weary, but that iron core of hers remains.

This witch nearly killed him half a decade ago, but she saved Hope’s life.

Bonnie does not flinch as he reaches for her, and he can't help but be impressed by her fortitude. Her bravery soon turns to confusion when the hybrid gently takes her hand and brings it to his lips. He savors the taste as he places his mouth against her bloodied knuckles. When he pulls away, his lips are stained crimson.

“You must be exhausted, love,” Klaus croons, and the softness of his voice seems to unnerve the witch much more than him flashing his fangs had. “There is a spare room you can use upstairs for the night. And a bath where you can clean yourself up. Hope will show you.”

Bonnie glances hesitantly between Hope and Klaus before she finally manages to find her voice. ”I-I actually think I should... probably go home.”

“I insist.” His tone leaves no room for argument and after everything that had happened to her in the last 24 hours, the young witch had no energy to fight him.

Klaus watches as Hope takes Bonnie's hand and leads her out of the library. She goes along numbly but turns to meet his eyes one last time before she is pulled out of the room.

[cornballcornwallace]

que?

“Just talk to her!” Meanwhile the her in question has already made up her mind to never speak to me again plus the person giving me the advice is literally only talking to me so that they can warp my words and tell her that I’m a dick not worth listening to

[fairyysoup]

western nights

♫︎ western nights - ethel cain ♫︎

pairing(s): eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: You're on a road trip to nowhere. Eddie wants to get the hell out of dodge. It's a match made in heaven- if only it were, actually, heaven.

words: 13k

cw: explicit, smut, piv sex, oral sex (f + m receiving), exhibitionism, light choking, spitting, eddie is 24, reader's age unspecified (over 21), illegal activities, theft, smoking, alcohol consumption, strangers to lovers, bonnie & clyde type dynamic, mechanic!eddie, eddie's trying hard to be a good boy he's just got issues, pining, perv!reader, some slight dubcon/somno for a sec if you squint, there was only one bed, graphic depictions of violence, a drunk guy being nasty to both eddie and reader, bar fight, blood, arguments, angst, hurt/comfort, panic attacks, an overall janky relationship here, inspired by the song western nights by ethel cain

a/n: *slaps fic* this bad boy can be written with so many cold medicines in my head <3 ethel cain if you see this do NOT interact i have done zero justice to your song and also completely disregarded some key aspects of the themes of it lol this is loosely based at best

ALL MY WORKS ARE 18+ MINORS DNI

He’s never looked more beautiful on his Harley in the parking lot, breaking into the ATMs, sleeping naked when it gets too hot…

You’ve become something of a connoisseur of gas station coffee. 

You know which chains have the best. Love’s always has the best and freshest, with the most options of flavors. Pilot is usually a crapshoot, depending on what area of the country you’re in. Occasionally, if you can find it, Bodega doesn’t disappoint. And the worst, by far, is always Shell. Shell coffee, you think, must come directly from the sewers of whatever backwater town you’re trundling through.

You’re somewhere in Indiana, you guess, judging by the state-shaped keychains on the rotating rack next to the cash register. You grab a state map from a magazine stand and toss it in with the rest of your purchase. You were lucky to have found a Love’s so you could finally afford yourself some proper dark roast coffee; all the watered down arabica stuff you’ve been getting since Cleveland has only been making your head ache. 

“What’s the quickest way to Indianapolis?” You ask the dead-eyed attendant ringing you up, a 20-something year old guy with bags under his eyes and bad skin. 

He chews his licorice like a camel chews straw, staring up at you blankly. “I dunno. Never been.”

You look from him, to the map, and back. “Cool. What town is this?”

“Hawkins.” His bored-by-you attitude is overwhelming.

“Thanks so much for the help.” You afford the attendant a tight smile as you grab your bag of snacks and head out. It’s going to be a long night. 

The air outside is stifling, summer heat hanging in the muggy air like a fog. The humidity makes your hair stick uncomfortably to the back of your neck as you peel off your old green hunting jacket and tie it around your waist. You’ve parked your van under the fluorescent-lit gas pump overhang, providing the proper lighting for you to spread the map of Indiana across the hood and bend over it, using your full coffee as a paperweight. You rip open the singular Slim-Jim you could afford for dinner, and pore over it.

There’s commotion across the parking lot, which stirs you from your rumination over the map. You glance up; there are two guys loitering by a telephone booth in one corner of the lot, sharing a cigarette. Teenagers who have nowhere else to be on a Friday night, you suppose. Five yards away from them, a third crouches in front of a badly vandalized ATM, the cause of the commotion. He seems to be hacking at the wiring with a pocket knife.

You ignore it. So far, on this trip, you’ve seen far worse than a guy stealing petty cash from a gas station ATM. Tracing your fingers across the paper, it looks like if you take state route 13 to I-69, you’ll be in Indianapolis by midnight. Shouldn’t be too difficult, as long as you can find the 13, and then you can find a place to crash in the city.

Grabbing an old highlighter from your pocket, you mark your route in bright pink. The guy from the ATM seems to have gotten what he wanted, moving quickly across the parking lot with his head held high, like he has every right to be there. He approaches a motorcycle parked on the opposite side of the pump from you, and begins feeding dollar bills into the machine. 

“Hey, do you know how to get to the 13 from here?” You can’t see much more than his leather-clad shoulder and hip jutting out from around the pump, the front tire of his Harley sticking out from behind his leg.

There’s a pause, and then his head pops out from around the pump. A curtain of unruly dark hair frames a long neck, big doe-like eyes and flushed lips pouting at you in confusion. It makes you freeze. “Sorry?”

“I, uh-” What were you trying to do? Get on the right course. Right. Of course. “State- uh- state route 13? I’m trying to get to, um, Indianapolis?” You cringe at your own stuttering, nails digging into the paper before you. 

The man stares at you for a long time, dark eyes framed by thick, curling lashes sizing you up slowly. Then, he rounds the pump. “The highway’s just down the road- keep going west and you won’t miss it.” 

“Great, thanks.” You grab up your coffee and the map, crunching it between your tense fingers. He hasn’t moved, still leaning against the gas pump, arms crossed, staring at you. It makes you nervous, in more ways than one. 

“You won’t get far in that heap, though.”

You pause. Your knees threaten to wobble under you as you look up at him. Your hand is on the door, you could simply ignore him and get in, but something in his gaze makes you stop. Is that… genuine concern? Or is he just putting on a show for you? 

“What do you mean?” The heat of the coffee burns through the paper cup and torches your fingers.

“Well, your fender’s bashed in and, I dunno if you noticed, but you have a crack in your windshield,” he gestures at the long crack running horizontally across the glass, just above where your line of sight usually is. “Probably got a lot more shit wrong with it, too, I could hear you coming a mile up the road. Junkyard find?”

“Something like that.” More like, sat in your parents’ garage for so long that you took a chance on the fucked up radiator and bailed. “She’s good, though. She’ll get me another 80 miles, easy.”

“Are you only going 80 miles?” The guy questions, “Or are you going way past that and only doing the 80 miles tonight?”

If he wasn’t so pretty, with a note of flirtation in his voice, you’d be hesitant as hell to tell him. “The second one.” 

ATM guy sucks on his teeth, rocking back on heels that creak with the movement. Rubber soled work boots flash at you from beneath torn blue denim. “Dunno if I should let you go alone, then. You might bust your carburetor halfway there and be stranded.”

That puts alarm sirens in your head. You’d back away if your car wasn’t situated between the two of you. “Thanks, but, uh… I think I can handle myself.”

The teasing smile drops off his face quickly, replaced by a look of subtle desperation. “No, don’t get me wrong, I’m not- I’m not saying you can’t handle yourself. Obviously. Or you wouldn’t be trucking along by yourself through Nowheresville, Indiana,” he chuckles. “I just, ah… let me level with you?”

Your face screws up, but you lean your hip against the fender nearest you- the one that isn’t fucked up. What is it with this guy?

“I’m trying to jump ship. Anywhere’s better than here, but I really want to get to the west coast. I don’t know where you’re headed, but I’ve got my sights on San Francisco. And, uh, I have experience fixing cars, working in a garage,” he confesses. “But I don’t have a ride of my own- this isn’t even my bike, really. So, if you’re heading to the city, and you could use someone to make sure your car doesn’t kick it going over 75, I’m your man. Besides,” he bats his pretty lashes at you, his fingers fiddling with the end of his long hair as he brandishes a wad of ATM-stolen cash, “I have gas money.”

“You want to hitch a ride with me?”

“If you’re okay with it. Otherwise, I bid you fair and safe travels.” He bows dramatically, throwing his hand in the direction of the highway you’d asked about. “But if you ask me, I think you’d be doing both of us a favor in the long run if you let me come with. Just for insurance, y’know.”

“Insurance?” You parrot incredulously.

“Yeah,” he grins. He has dimples, a wide smile that stretches across his face and makes him even prettier than you can stand to look at directly. “Just insurance. No other reason.”

“Mhm,” you grunt, going over the positives and negatives in your head. 

Positives- your car is a piece of shit and you’re sure he’s right, you’re working on borrowed time and you’re less than halfway to your desired destination. Plus, he’s unfairly nice to look at. 

Negatives- you don’t know shit for fuck about him, other than the fact that he’s apparently trying to leave town and makes a hobby of breaking into ATMs. And, hell, even Ted Bundy was supposed to be charming and cute, at first. This guy could be a crazy ax murderer, could be a rapist, could be a junkie who’ll steal your car and leave you stranded, could be, could be-

“MUNSON!”

“Fuck.” ATM guy glances over his shoulder, then ducks quickly around the side of the gas pump as the station attendant comes storming out of the store. He crouches, pressing his hands to the glass window of the passenger’s side and peers through the cab at you on the other side with pleading eyes. “Can you get me a couple miles down the road, at least?” 

“What about your bike?” 

“Not my bike,” he tells you for a second time. “My buddy’ll pick it up when he hears about this, please.”  

The station attendant is making his way across the parking lot now, looking miffed. It’s clearly the most energy he’s put into anything today, but he isn’t moving very fast. 

You’ve made worse decisions in your life. You sigh. “Shit. Get in.” 

“Thank you, thank you.” He pops open the passengers door as you slide into the driver’s seat, tossing the crumpled up map in the back. You guess you’ve found a GPS, for the time being.

“Does my insurance have a name?” you ask as you peel out of the gas station. The attendant hovers by the pump you’d been occupying, looking lamely at the abandoned motorcycle in your rearview. 

“Eddie,” ATM guy says. A ring-clad hand lifts between you, hovering over the gear shift and waiting for your own to settle into it for a shake, “Eddie Munson.” 

You eye his outstretched hand, your stomach doing flips, but you’re unsure if it’s because of him or the very situation he’s just put you in. You lift your hand and bat his with your knuckles, a half-hearted acknowledgement without the formality. “Pleasure doing business with you, Eddie.” 

Eddie coughs, shifting up in his seat to peer behind you at the station. “Fuckin’ Keith. You can just drop me off at the next exit, it’s no biggie.” 

“Hm? I thought you were coming with me to Indianapolis, hot stuff.” 

Eddie whips his head around to look at you. “Seriously? You don’t- you don’t have to, I know it’s a big ask-” 

“You want me to change my mind?”

“Not particularly.” He sinks down in his seat again. “Guess I figured you think I’m more of a liability than anything.”

“I do, but I need all that cash you swiped from the ATM,” you hum with a snarky grin on your face. 

Eddie chuckles, wringing his hands in his lap. His knuckles tighten and relax beneath heavy steel rings. “Yeah, better I do it than you, huh?” There’s an awkward pause, and then he blurts, “Do you have any road music in this thing?” 

You reach forward and hit the volume button for the stereo. You’d been halfway through Danzig’s self titled album- Mother kicks in with the chorus. In the darkness, you don’t see the way Eddie’s eyes sparkle with adoration as he looks at you.

“I think you and I are gonna get along great, sweetheart.” 

You ignore how your thighs press in on themselves while you sip your coffee, and you turn onto highway 13, headed for Indianapolis.

When you step out of the bathroom in the motel room in Indianapolis, you find Eddie hunched over by the window, wearing nothing but a pair of blue plaid boxers. The chain on his wrist jingles as he smacks at the A/C unit beneath the drawn curtains.

“Everything okay?” You ask, pretty much knowing what the answer is. Your hair drips water down your back, but you can still feel the muggy summer heat in the room practically smothering your pores. 

“Damn Motel 6 A/C,” he grumbles as he gives it one last smack on the side, to no avail. “The unit’s broken, there’s gonna be no cool air in the room.”

“That’s okay, we can crack a window.” 

“In this part of the city?” Eddie scoffs, looking over at you. “Believe me, princess, I applaud your optimism- I would have just driven away from me there at the gas station, given the chance. But if we crack that window, we’re gonna get fucking robbed, first thing. Believe me.”

“I believe you,” you huff, clutching the itchy motel towel to your wet skin. Usually you would just pull on a tank and a pair of panties and call it a night, but there’s no such luck for you here. You have a backpack full of old, dirty clothes, and no clean underwear to speak of- you’ve been washing them in public bathroom sinks since Columbus. “Well, I’m just gonna sleep naked, then. You do what you’ve gotta do.” 

“What- you’re gonna- what?” Eddie blathers, sitting back on his heels. You stare at him for a second- he’s a vision of flushed skin and a cloud of brunette hair cascading over his shoulders. Knobbly knees stick up at awkward angles, hairy thighs disappear into the hem of his boxers drawn tight across his skin. Your eyes glance over the ominous bulge in the crotch of them, not willing to think about those parts of a man you barely know. “You really think- I mean- is that wise?”

“Are you gonna get frisky with me, Eddie?” You ask with a teasing voice. You’d learned enough about him on the way to the city- 24 years old, no prospects, big dreams, ran a D&D club in high school, worked in a garage to help pay the bills- that you’re fairly certain he’s a good enough guy to keep his hands to himself. You just enjoy watching his big eyes go rounder at the insinuation.

“No, of course not. Wouldn’t dream of it.” Eddie looks mortified. He backtracks, “Unless- unless you wanted me to, I mean-” 

“Don’t overanalyze it,” you tell him mildly, turning your back to him to rifle through your bag. “We’re both adults, it’s hot, there’s one bed and we’re both paying for it. Something tells me you’ve done worse things than lay next to someone without clothes on.”

Eddie blows a long breath out of pursed lips, not moving from his seat on the floor. He doesn’t deny your accusation, just mutters, “You put so much faith in me, sweetheart.”

“Don’t make me regret it.” 

You drop the wet towel on the floor and round the bed to turn down the sheets. Eddie’s eyes trail you; you can feel them burning into your skin, lit by the dim yellow light on the bedside table. It takes a moment for him to finally move, a single trembling hand reaching up to swipe a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from the table.

“You gonna sit there on the floor all night?” You muse as you lay back on the bed. It’s too fucking hot. The dampness from the shower hasn’t dried, but now it’s simply growing with the rate your body is perspiring. Your hair and skin stick to the white sheets, which feel pasty each time you move.

“Just getting my bearings,” Eddie says, his voice tight and hollow. “You smoke?”

“Not especially, but I won’t stop you.” 

The smell of tobacco hangs in the heavy air more potently than you expected. The humidity dampens the vapor, making it sting your nose and leech into your mouth, even though you’re not the one directly breathing it. It strikes you as devastatingly intimate- the thought that you might be breathing the smoke that’s already touched his lungs. 

“Do you mind if I strip down, too?” Eddie asks after a long time of deliberating as he smoked. “Not that- I mean, I don’t have any pajamas, so…”

“Do what you need to do, honey,” you murmur, repeating what you’d told him before. “We can find a laundromat in the morning. Maybe get you a change of clothes somewhere.”

“Right.” He doesn’t say much after that, but you listen to him rustling around, stubbing out his cigarette in an ashtray and flicking off the bedside light. 

He straightens up, silhouette looming in the blue-dark from the curtained window. You watch from the corner of your eye while his backlit form hooks its thumbs in the waistband of his boxers, and drops them.

He clambers onto the bed beside you, careful not to bump any part of you. You refuse to look at him, scanning the asbestos popcorn on the ceiling above you with an overabundance of scrutiny, willing yourself to focus on anything but Eddie’s beautiful body, especially what he has below the belt. It’s a bad idea, no go. You don’t want to see it, don’t even want to think about it- what it looks like, how big it is, how it curves, what kind of hair surrounds it, if any-

You’re thinking about it.

And you told him not to overanalyze it. To be calm about it. What a fucking joke.

“You know, I’m not as easy as I might seem,” you blurt out suddenly, unaware of why you even do. You mostly come off sounding like you’re trying to convince yourself of it.

Eddie’s head rustles against the pillow as he glances at you in the dark. “I don’t think you are.”

“Okay. Just- just making sure,” you stutter out. “All evidence to the contrary, and all.”

“I’m not expecting to get lucky with you,” he tells you honestly, a little flatly, like he’s afraid of any inflection in his voice betraying him. “You know, beyond the ride west.”

“Right.” 

“Right.” 

You both regress into silence. You think you’ve both said your piece on the matter. You might not trust Eddie, not entirely, but you at least know he’s not gonna try anything stupid if you let yourself fall asleep. You actually think that he’s asleep after so many minutes, until he opens his mouth again.

“It’s really fucking hot, isn’t it?” He croaks. His hands twitch by his sides, feet jammed under the downturned covers, but everything else bare to the open room, like you. His pinkie brushes yours, and he nearly smacks himself jerking his hand back toward his stomach.

“Yeah, it’s not… it’s not good.” You blink into the darkness. “Sorry, you must be regretting coming with me all this way.”

“Nah, not a chance.” He brushes it off, waving a hand in the air dismissively. “I’ve been itching to get out of there since I graduated. Feel kinda bad that I didn’t leave a note for my uncle, but it’s not the first time I’ve bailed on him. I can always call him from a pay phone. Kinda wish I had my guitar, though.” 

“You play guitar?” you ask dazedly. You don’t have a hard time imagining it, now that you think about it. He has that rocker look about him, the kind that could grace magazines and be on posters on teenage girls’ walls, if he played his cards right. If he got his lucky break.

“Yeah. Pretty good, too, I guess.” He sighs. There’s a wistfulness in it, like he’s reminiscing on something from his past. “It’s okay. I can pick up another one once I get to California. Dropped a mint on the one I had back home, but I guess Wayne can always pawn it. Maybe get himself a nicer place.”

You chuckle. “And you think I’m the optimist here.”

“I never said it was a bad thing,” Eddie scoffs, then deepens his voice quite suddenly. “Two optimists, both alike in dignity-”

A burst of laughter bubbles from your chest, making Eddie grin as you gesture at your bodies. “Or lack, thereof.”

“In fair Indianapolis, where we lay our scene.” He ends his recitation giggling, the flimsy bed frame jolting with the shaking of his chest. “Radiant Juliet, you never did tell me where your chariot is taking me.”

“I’m not sure, really,” you admit, mellowing your laughter into a quiet giggle. “I just wanted to leave home. I was suffocating there, I needed to get out. See what’s out there for me, if anything.”

“And have you seen much?”

“Not much,” you tell him quietly. “Mostly truck stops and shitty roadside attractions. But we’re in the midwest, you know.”

“Don’t remind me.” He lays his hand back down on the mattress beside you. 

You turn your body towards him, damp sheets clinging to your skin as you move. “California might not be such a bad idea.”

Eddie turns his head and glances at you, dark eyes finding you in the dim moonlight. “No? I’ll have to fix your car, then.”

“You do that, and I’ll make sure to get you where you’re going,” you whisper.

“Deal.” His eyes linger on your face, just inches away from his on the pillow. Flickering in the moonlight, two voids that hold all the stars in the night sky seem to take you in like you’re more beautiful than they could ever be.

This time, when your fingers brush, he doesn’t jerk away. This time, you don’t avert your eyes when you look down at his cock, but you sure do regret it when you don’t reach out to touch it.

He’s so pretty. You want to.

I watched him show his love through shades of black and blue, starting fights at the bar across the street like you do…

Your underwear and his come out of the dryer wrapped around each other. You spend a minute disentangling them, a small heap of clothes in a rolling laundry basket in front of you. The closest laundromat to the Motel 6 had been a five minute drive down the street. 

You’d woken up with your head on his chest, your arm draped across his bare stomach, despite how you’d fallen asleep barely touching him. As if your unconscious body had known more about your wants than you. His hand had been tangled in your hair, palm cradling your cheek and a bit of your neck, like his own unconscious wanted to keep you against him, too. 

The morning had been easy- the easiest it’s been since you hit the road. Eddie seems to have given you a sense of purpose you didn’t have before, driving around aimlessly, only stopping for fast food every once in a while when you remembered to eat something other than beef jerky and coffee. Once you had extracted yourself from his grip, you’d gone to buy him clothes from the resale store next to the motel. It wasn’t hard to find a plain black shirt and jeans, but used underwear was something you didn’t want to mess with. You’d brought it back to the motel, along with some food from the Waffle House across the way, and you ate cross legged on the bed while he showered and put on his new-ish clothes.

But now, you can’t stop feeling his hand cradling your head. His hot, sweaty skin against your arm. Your fingernails raking lightly through the trail of hair on his stomach, dragging through his pubic hair, your knuckles just barely brushing up the side of his length- thick, uncut, and so so pretty. Then, stopping nervously when you’d gotten too bold, fingers skimming over sensitive skin too close to his groin, and he’d twitched in his sleep.

You want him. You don’t even know him, and you want him so badly you can feel it even now, an aching blush between your legs turning into a dull throb when you so much as think about him. 

You toss all the freshly washed clothes into a plastic bag that you’d grabbed by the door to the laundromat, and haul it out to your van. He’d told you to meet him at the bar across the street when you were done, since he needed to make a few calls on their payphone- he’d even given you his weathered denim vest before he left.

“For insurance,” he winked. “Uh, don’t wash it, though… I stitched it by hand, it’ll fall apart.”

You don’t put it in with the clean clothes. It smells like smoke and alcohol and him, the edges frayed and yellowing a bit. You hold it in your lap for a second, plucking at the stringy bits around the arm holes. Maybe you can convince him to let you soak it in a sink somewhere, hand washed and dried carefully over a working A/C unit, wherever you can find one. You don’t know when he last washed the damn thing, if ever.

When you pull into the parking lot of the dive bar, and you clutch the denim vest in your hand as you step out of your van, something sharp prods your thumb. You hiss, slamming the car door shut and examining what it was. The sharp point of a pin on the vest- which reads Motörhead- had come loose and pricked your skin, which now threatens to ooze blood all over the aged denim.

“Fuck,” you murmur, bringing your thumb to your mouth as you lock the car. You struggle with the vest while you walk towards the door to the dive, trying to resituate the pin so it doesn’t go missing.

You find him loitering beside a billiards table, pool stick in hand, a cigarette in his mouth. When he sees you walk in, his eyes light up, and he nearly drops the stick prancing over to you. 

“Told ya I’d still be here- hey, you okay?” His grin turns very readily into a frown when he sees you sucking your thumb like a child. 

“Yeah, no, I’m fine,” you mutter clumsily, “your pin just nicked me s’all.” 

“Oh, shit,” he curses, reaching for your hand. “Lemme see- no, let me see.” He forces your hand open when you try to close it, and scrutinizes the little pin prick as if it’s the worst battle wound he’s ever seen. “Should’a checked to make sure all the pins were right, this happens all the time. I’m so sorry, baby, my fault.”

Baby. Your brain tries to process it. He called you baby. 

He’s also kissing your thumb, cradling your hand with excessive care. He’s tasting your blood, sucking a little on the pin prick like you had been, so your skin is wet with a mix of his and your spit. You don’t think you’ll ever get tired of the way he touches you. Fleeting as his touches have been, anyways. You melt a little under his gaze as his round eyes blink up at you innocently.

“S’okay,” you tell him with a wobbly smile. “Did you make your calls?”

He looks at you softly, a reserved smile on his face. “I did. Wayne’s miffed, but he’ll live. Told him I’d send him a postcard.”

You giggle at that, thinking you’d sign it along with him. Sorry for stealing away your nephew; it will happen again. “Good. Buy me a drink, handsome?”

Eddie beams at you, and his dimples crease his cheeks as he turns to the bartender. There’s a sweet, boyish manner in the way he puffs out his chest and orders you a drink, his arm circling your waist as he moves you smoothly toward the bar. As soon as a whisky sour has been placed in front of you, he turns and squeezes your arm.

“Hey, I gotta finish this game,” he nods at the pool table he’d been stationed at. “I got some money on it. Y’okay with hanging out for a minute?” 

“Sure,” you chirp, sipping your drink. “Wipe the floor with ‘em for me?”

“It’s in the bag,” he whispers at you conspiratorially. You push his vest at him, imagining he wants to take his insurance back now that you know he’s not taking off on you, but he shakes his head. “No, you wear it. It’ll look good on you.” 

His eyes light up when you shrug the vest over your worn out white t-shirt. As you lift your drink, and he turns back to his game, you think you’d do anything to keep him looking at you like that.

Eddie wins. You don’t know how much he bet on the game, but there seems to be hurt feelings when he collects the money that had been placed on the table. You’ve never been much of a gambler, and he hadn’t struck you as one- but what do you know? He certainly bet on you getting him out of Hawkins, and you certainly took a chance on him. 

You don’t think much of it. It’s late afternoon- the sun’s going down, and you figure you’d better get going, but Eddie wraps his arms around you and says, “Dance with me.” And you do.

The jukebox in the corner only plays country classics. Patsy Cline croons over the speakers, taking you back to a time in your far off childhood. Eddie sways with you to the music, and even though there’s barely any rhythm to his dancing, you find yourself falling into it with him. Your head on his shoulder, his curly hair tickling the side of your face. His breath on your neck, cool on your heated skin. 

That is, until a hand wraps around Eddie’s shoulder and jerks him away from you. A man with blond hair, clearly a few too many drinks in, snarls at him, “That game was bullshit and you know it.”

Eddie blinks at him. “If by ‘bullshit’ you mean I beat you, then sure.”

“You di’int beat me, you cheated,” the man sneers. “I want my money back.” 

“Yeah, no.” Eddie claps the man on the shoulder, trying to push him away. “I won the game, I get the money. That’s how gambling works.” 

You step back when the man’s beady eyes fall on you, peering at him over Eddie’s shoulder. “What’re you lookin’ at?” 

“You leave her out of this, buddy,” Eddie growls dangerously, still forcing the man back with one strong hand on his shoulder. He’s trying to put himself between you and the man, you know. Still, you feel the need to fist your hand in the back of Eddie’s shirt and pull him away.

“I ain’t your buddy. Whatcha lookin’ at, bitch?” The man reaches out and yanks roughly on your arm, making you yelp in alarm.

And that’s when Eddie’s fist connects with the man’s jaw.

There’s a sickening crack. In the chaos, it somehow occurs to you that Eddie’s wearing all those chunky rings. You wonder if they could be considered a deadly weapon, in the same vein as brass knuckles.

It takes you a second to get through the initial shock, finding it hard to focus on who’s doing what. Eddie and the man have barrelled through a couple of tables, knocking over chairs. Eddie has the man pinned to the edge of the pool table, a flurry of fists moving from all sides. 

“You don’t touch my girl!” Eddie shouts at the man. “You don’t fuckin’ touch my girl!”  

His girl.

They tumble to the floor. The man curses and spits blood at him from a cut lip. A strong fist hits the side of Eddie’s face once, twice-

“THAT’S ENOUGH!” The words are shouted by the bartender, finally intervening, pulling the blond man off of Eddie. As the bartender restrains the unruly man, a second pulls an equally enraged Eddie away from him, separating the two. 

By the time you collect a bruised and bloodied Eddie into your arms, you’ve already tuned out the rest of the ruckus going on around you. Someone suggests that you should leave, but the words only barely register. You’re already pulling Eddie out the door and to the car.

You don’t even remember if you closed the tab.

Trouble’s always gonna find you, baby, but so will I. Crying only because I’m happy, hold me across every state line…

You don’t know when you started crying. Maybe it was around the time that Eddie fell unconscious.

Tears burn in your eyes like you’ve poured gasoline in them, but no matter how badly it stings you just keep sniffling and driving, tearing down the interstate away from Indianapolis, toward St. Louis. You hopped on I-70 as quickly as you could, and from there you’ve been lost in a world of your own.

He’d almost look peaceful, if it wasn’t for the blood on his jaw and the nasty shiner on his cheekbone. You keep telling yourself it’s not bad enough for him to need to be taken to a hospital. You can’t afford to go to a hospital, and even if you could, you’d have to explain how he got in this condition. It’s a recipe for jail time. You know that. You know.  

You just want to keep him safe, that’s all. 

He hadn’t instigated the fight, not really. He’d just swung first. He was just defending you.

His girl.  

When it gets to be too much, you pull over. Headlights gleam bright and then pass by in the dark with a whoosh of air. You think you must have crossed over into Illinois by now, or you’re getting close to it. The traffic has lightened considerably. 

You rest your head against the steering wheel, taking deep breaths, but the tears keep coming in streams. A while ago, you had a mattress in the back of this van. That was before it started having problems, and it sat in your family’s garage for a year and a half. You should have put a mattress in it when you took off, but you weren’t thinking that far ahead. You were having a breakdown, something like you’re having now, only worse. It was a manic, get-away-or-die-there kind of breakdown. 

Breathe in. You’re not gonna die. Breathe out. He’s breathing.

Once Eddie cracks his eyes open, he flexes his jaw with a groan. You can tell he’s confused by the inquisitive noise he makes, but when he looks at you, all that disappears in a heartbeat.

“Hey, what’re you- oh, god. Sweetheart, don’t cry.”  

As if that doesn’t make you want to cry harder. His hand lands tentatively on your shoulder, stiff fingered but light in touch. He shuffles closer to you, pulling you against him to sob into his secondhand shirt. 

It’s pathetic, you’re sure of it. You feel pathetic, twisting the cheap cotton of his shirt in your hands and saturating it with tears, as he shushes you and soothes a hand over your hair.

“It’s okay, baby,” he whispers into your hair, pressing his aching lips to your scalp in an attempt to calm you down. “We’ll be okay. I’m right here. What can I do?”

For some reason, the question makes you mad. “You don’t fucking fight,” you sob at him, the anger in your voice making him freeze. “You don’t- you don’t get into fights. I can deal with a lot of shit, Eddie Munson, but I can’t deal with that.”

“Okay, honey. Okay.”

“No fighting.” 

“No fighting,” he repeats affirmatively, petting your head. Then he adds, “No gambling.”

“No bars.”

“Well-”

“No bars.” 

“All right,” Eddie resigns, resting his chin on top of your head. Once you’ve stopped crying, from what he can feel, he tells you softly, “I’m not… I’m not like that, you know. I want you to know. I don’t fight, not usually.”

“You did.” 

“I did,” he agrees. “I just don’t like… I didn’t like him touching you. Disrespecting you like that- did he hurt you?”

“No,” you lie. The guy had yanked your arm a little too hard, your wrist still smarting a bit. Nothing near what Eddie had taken. “He hurt you, though.”

“I’ve had worse, trust me.” His tone is ominous, like you don’t really want to know the heavy details of it. “I’m not a fighter. Used to be if I saw danger, I’d just turn tail and run. I usually just take shit on the chin. But I never had anything to fight for before, really.”

You sniffle loudly, grossly. “I don’t want you to fight for me.”

“I’m gonna protect you, sweetheart. No matter what,” he insists. “Long as we’re together, I’m gonna do everything I can to protect you. Okay?”

Long as we’re together. Like you’re a couple, like you didn’t just meet by chance at a gas station a little more than 24 hours ago. Like you’re in love. 

His girl.  

“My dad’s in prison,” Eddie blurts out, raking a shaky hand through your hair. “He, uh… he was a fighter. And a thief. And a gambler. And a liar. He tried his best to make me be like him, but I don’t- I don’t wanna be like him.” Eddie sighs, a sad sound that rips through your already bleeding heart. “I thought maybe getting out of Hawkins would set me straight. Finally give me a chance to make something better of myself, prove I’m not like my old man. I tried, but after high school I got in some trouble, and Wayne had to sell my old van to pay for my bail. Now I’m here, and… Guess you just take yourself wherever you go, huh?” 

“Yeah,” you agree. Your fingers curve against his hip, squeezing the skin there. “So we have to try to change ourselves in the meantime, while we get where we’re going.”

Eddie breathes in, and it sounds an awful lot like a sniffle.

“Eddie. Are you crying?”

“No.” He is.

You lift your head with a wet, coughing chuckle at his futile attempt to hide it. You look up at him, your fingers tucking a lock of unruly, dark hair behind his ear. He’s staring back at you with glassy eyes, the tip of his nose gone red with the tears he’s holding back. He just barely flinches when your knuckles brush the bruise on his cheekbone.

“Hey, handsome,” you coo at him softly, your touch featherlight on his skin. He blinks, a tear dropping from his lashes. “I’m gonna get you cleaned up, okay?” 

“Okay.” His lip wobbles. “Let me hold you a little longer, first?”

“Of course, Eddie.” You fall into his grasping hands, yanking you to him like a child searching for the comfort of his favorite teddy bear. You’d let him hold you as long as he liked.

You wash his face in a dirty rest area just west of Terre Haute. In the middle of the night, no one is around to tell you not to, so you follow him into the men’s room and take your time wiping the blood from his jaw and his hands. You gingerly apply a bandage from your car’s console to his bruised cheek, while he sits in the front seat and brackets your hips with his knees.

He gazes up at you like a man seeing God.

The neighbors beat on the walls, while I'm face first in the bed. Show me how much I mean to you while I’m lying in these sheets undressed…

You sleep in the rest area that night, in the back of your van. No mattress, just your backs to the hard floor of the cab. With no A/C again, you shuck your clothes and spread a single white blanket over your bodies, more for modesty’s sake than anything else. Even though it’s unlikely that a cop is going to run you down in the middle of nowhere, you’d rather not get cited for public indecency. 

He holds you all night long, his arms around you and his chest against your back giving you peace, but he doesn’t touch you in any of the ways that you desperately want him to.

It takes the better part of a day to drive to St. Louis. Eddie swallows a couple tylenol for his face with his truck stop coffee and eggs, smiling softly at you from across a bright yellow plywood table in a cafeteria. From the look on his face, you doubt that he regrets the fight that gave him his wounds.

By the time your old van rattles up to another Motel 6 at the outskirts of the city, Eddie’s shaking his head. “The car’s not gonna take much more than this. I need to give it a good look, maybe borrow a tool kit and give it a tune up.”

“Whatever you say, magic man,” you muse at him. “Let’s just sleep in a real bed tonight, huh?”

His head tilted back, he looks at you sideways with a lopsided smile. You can tell his face is still hurting, but he puts on a brave face and bats his eyelashes at you. “Sounds good to me, princess.”

His touch lingers on you more, now, than it did yesterday. His fingers grazing your forearm as you open the glass door to the motel office, his hand hovering over your lower back as you sign for the room. His arm slung over your shoulder as he follows you down to the room, twirling the key around his finger. 

“You think the A/C will work this time?” He asks you lightheartedly as he turns the key in the lock.

“Only one way to find out,” you return with the same warmth in your voice. If you from two days ago could hear yourself, and that ooey-gooey note of lovesickness in your voice, your past self might keel over and die. When did this happen? 

You drop your bag of clothes on the bench by the bathroom door. Eddie bangs around the A/C unit a bit, until something starts whirring, and he makes a gleeful noise.

“It’s aliiiiive!” He announces dramatically, emulating Dr. Frankenstein. You giggle as he leaps toward you, practically throwing you onto the bed in excitement. “We have cool air. We can actually wear clothes to bed tonight.”

“Yeah,” you sigh, not even trying to hide your disappointment at the thought. The best part of your last two mornings has been waking up to his naked body beside yours, warm and soft and littered with tattoos that you just can’t stop looking at. 

You mean, I won’t get to wake up to your skin on mine tomorrow? I won’t be able to pretend like I’m not staring at your dick and imagining all the things I want to do to it? How will I be able to admire you for my own perverted gain?

You don’t even realize that you’re stroking your fingers across his bruised cheek until he leans into your touch. Then you take inventory of your current position- your back to the mattress, his body hovering over you, half covering you. Caging you in with his arms. His long hair creates a veil around your faces. 

When he blinks his eyes open at you, you can tell where his mind is before he opens his mouth. “Did we have our first fight yesterday?”

You frown, a puff of air exiting your nose. “No, I think I’d call it laying ground rules.”  

“Ground rules,” Eddie nods, his sore cheek rubbing against your hand. You’re starting to wonder if he likes the pain, since he won’t stop pushing into it. “I’m not great at remembering rules. What were they, again?”

“No fighting.”

“Right, and no gambling.”

“No bars.”

He squints. “Is that one still up for negotiation, or…?” He trails off, giggling as you smack your hand lightly against his shoulder. “Kidding! I’m kidding. No bars. Got it.” 

“And that was it,” you tell him sweetly. “Unless there was another one you wanted to add?”

He stares at you for a long moment, his fingers twirling in the hair right beside your ear as he gets lost in thought. Say what you’re thinking, your mind practically screams at him. Please, god, say what we’re both thinking…

Eddie licks his lips and finally says, “No sleeping with clothes on?”

Gotcha. A creeping smile stretches your face, trying to play coy even when your heart’s beating a mile a minute. Eddie’s eyebrows raise at you, waiting for an answer. 

“I’m not easy, Eddie.”

“I know,” he tells you, mirroring your smile. “I don’t expect to get lucky with you.”

“I know,” you hum. Your hand drifts up the side of his torso, a more firm and languorous touch than you’d previously been brave enough to give him. “But do you want to?”

Eddie shudders, and it’s the first honest to god evidence you have that you turn him on as much as he does you. The realization feels rapturous. 

“God, yes.”

He kisses you then, open-mouthed and passionate, his hand cupping your jaw to keep you where he wants you. Your nails scratch up his back with a loud tearing sound against his shirt, and he chuckles as you frantically clutch at him with all your strength. 

“I know, pretty girl,” he murmurs, pecking your lips briefly before descending to bite at your jaw. “You’ve been wanting this since that first night. Feelin’ me up in the morning, like I wouldn’t notice…”

“I didn’t wanna wake you,” you hiccup as his hand cups the crotch of your jeans, rocking the meat of his palm firmly where you’re dying for friction. “Oh, ffffuck Eddie, m’sorry…”

“And here you were, thinking I was the pervert,” he grunts. “‘Least I can keep my hands to myself, hm?”

“I’m sorry, I’m s-sorry,” you babble at him, hands shaking as they grip onto his shoulders. Now that the aching throb between your legs is back, and he’s finally giving it attention, you can’t seem to come up with a more coherent sentence. Your face grows hot, but not at the fact that you’d been caught in your lechery- just because he turns you on more than you can think to admit.

“Don’t be sorry, sweet thing,” Eddie whispers. His dark eyes are lined up with yours, the curtain of his hair shielding them from reflecting any of the light from the desk lamp- it’s just you and the starry voids of space, locked in your own little world. He rubs his hand back and forth with practiced pressure against the front of your jeans, your hips kicking up against him. “I want you to touch me. Want you to do whatever you want with me, baby.” 

“Whatever I want?” Your fingers dragging up his lower back, under his shirt to feel the heat of his skin.

“Anything,” he insists, kissing you again. Wet and sloppy, teeth clacking as you grind up into his palm. Your thick denim jeans are about the most abominable things that have ever existed.

You feel like your head’s on sideways with how pent up you already are. “I want you to fuck me Eddie- jesus chr- can we do that? Right now? Please?” 

Eddie laughs. A happy, whole-hearted, almost disbelieving laugh. “Thought I was gonna be the one begging you, after all this…” His breath hitches, the touch of his hand leaving you so that he can push himself back. “Lemme get you out of these clothes, yeah?”

You nod quickly, earning a pleased hum from him. The way he undresses you is touched by reverence; his fingers slow as they drag the cotton of your shirt over your head, grazing your skin all the way. His lips dancing across your collarbone as he undoes the front of your stupid fucking jeans. You just want them off, done with and laying in a pile to be forgotten about by the motel room door, but Eddie has other plans. 

“Slow.” He grabs your hip to stop your wiggling, fingers curled around the back of the waistband of them as he pulls the denim down your thighs. “We’ve got all night, baby. I’m not leaving. Not going anywhere.” 

“I want you,” you insist desperately, sounding like a broken record. Your distress is evident on your face, in the way you clench your thighs together to hide the obnoxious wet spot growing on your cotton panties. You wonder if he’d felt it when he was touching you over your jeans, if the heat and dampness had soaked through the denim as well. You wouldn’t be surprised.

“You have me, sweetheart,” Eddie ensures. “Don’t… I don’t want you to worry about it. M’gonna make sure there are no worries in that pretty head.” 

He yanks his t-shirt off, the one you’d bought him from the resale store. A cloud of frizzy, dark hair obscures his pretty face for half a second, the shirt landing on the floor somewhere off to the side, and then Eddie’s eyes find you again, grinning at you widely with pointed teeth.

You grab for him, your fingers looping around the chain that hangs from his neck. Tugging him down, you press a gentle kiss to his lips. Then to his sore jaw, where a tiny scab has formed on the right side of his chin. Then to his bruised cheek, where he flutters his eyes shut and groans softly at the brush of your lips. 

“My boy,” you whisper to him, and you don’t even know if he understands the significance of it to you. His girl. Your boy.  

Eddie smiles against your skin. He peppers kisses everywhere he can reach, down onto your chest, dragging his sharp teeth every once in a while just to hear you keen. You’re certain you’ve ruined your underwear now, feeling the wetness grow cool against your skin. 

What a fucking concept. Cool air. 

Eddie seems to have the same thought as you, as he slips his fingers beneath the white cotton and peels them down your legs. Strings of your arousal stick to the wet fabric, dropping off in thick tendrils onto the sheets below you as he groans lowly.

“Fuck,” Eddie curses, shaking his head in chastisement as he settles between your legs at the end of the bed. He tsks, “Just look at you, poor thing. Should’a said something to me, can’t have you going around like this.”

You shiver as he trails his mouth up the inside of your thigh. His day-old stubble scrapes your sensitive skin, making you break out in a cold sweat. “M’not- I didn’t want you to think-”

“That you’re easy?” He coos with a condescending smile. “No, honey. I know, you’re a good girl.” He nips at the widest part of your thigh, plush flesh indenting with the imprint of his teeth. “But I’m no good. You should know that, better than anyone. No good for you.”

Eddie’s tongue burns and soothes at the same time, leaving your brain a scrambled mess on the mattress beneath you. He gathers all of your collected arousal into his mouth, groaning like he’s been desperate to taste it all this time. “Been dreaming of this since I saw you, pretty girl.” 

Pulling your leg over his bare shoulder, he all but crushes you against his face, his sturdy hands wrapped around your hips to hold you still. Your back arched, your hips fully off the bed as he lifts your lower half into the air.

You choke out the first part of his name, your hands fisting in the comforter next to your head. There’s a twist of pleasure deep in your core that makes you whine far louder than necessary, a waterfall of words spilling from you before you can stop them, “Oh shit- Ed- I don’t- s’too good-”

“Too good?” Eddie snickers, eyes bright as he watches you from between your thighs. “Nothing's too good for you.” 

Then he spits onto your already soaked and swollen pussy. You sob, positively crying from the feeling of it, drenched and dripping along your sensitive flesh. Eddie spreads the wetness around with his tongue, and your cunt clamps down hard at the lewd squelch of it, the mortifying slurp of his lips closing down and sucking on your labia. 

“Oh fuck, what the fuck-” you whimper high to the ceiling, mouth hanging open in shock. 

You could have been doing this for days. He could have fucked you like this the first night, when you lay next to him, naked in the dark. Your body aches at the thought of being deprived of this longer than necessary.

“That’s it, baby, just stay still. Let me ruin you, huh?” Eddie murmurs, letting your thigh rest heavy on his shoulder so that he can move one hand, his thumb rubbing tight circles on your clit in front of his face. He watches your cunt glisten and throb for him, listening to your desperate sobs echo through the otherwise silent room, and whispers, “Shit. Like my own little fuckin’ pornstar, sweetheart.” 

Normally, you wouldn’t exactly take that as a compliment- but with the way he says it, with his voice thick and dark like that, and with the way the hot, slick velvet of his tongue dips into your channel and shoots electricity along your skin, you figure he must have meant it like one. 

He goes slow, thrusting into you gently, taking his time to get familiar between your legs. Still, it doesn’t stop you from positively shrieking toward the ceiling when he licks you from hole to clit, the entire expanse of his tongue sweeping along nerve endings that are charged like live wires. 

Eddie chuckles, hot breath spilling out over your feverish skin, and he pauses there. Lets you feel the warm press of his flattened tongue before he just barely rubs it back and forth, back and forth-

“Eddie-!?” You gasp, an erotically loud moan spilling out of your mouth right before you come all over his. You crumble, your hips threatening to buck out of his steady grip as searing euphoria rips through you. He scrambles, ringed fingers locking tight enough on your waist to bruise, keeping you against him as you thrash wildly. 

He keeps you like that for a long time, purring into your spasming pussy while an array of unhinged noises pour from your body- your mouth, your hands tearing at the sheets and at your head, your cunt and all its wet filth drenching Eddie’s bruised face. 

If it hurts him, he doesn’t let on. He just keeps going, and going.

Until something pounds against the wall behind your head. You hiccup, your dazed, post-orgasm brain unable to comprehend where the sound is coming from. That wasn’t- couldn’t have been me…

“Pretty sounds,” Eddie giggles as he finally pulls his mouth away from you. “Guess the neighbors agree.”

“Oh, god.” Your hands cover your face, hot and sticky with sweat. Your eyes feel heavy, fuck-drunk, your heart still pounding in your chest from the adrenaline of the orgasm Eddie gave you. You feel embarrassed, like you ought to be going over to apologize to whatever sorry person happens to be sharing a wall with you, now.

Eddie has other plans. “Think we should give the audience a good show, huh?”

It’s merely a suggestion- you know that you could always find a way to quiet yourself, stuff your mouth with cotton and stifle your moans- but the implication of it makes your toes curl. Your breath rattles in your chest when you inhale. “You… you want everyone in the building to hear you fucking me?”

Eddie crowds you on the bed, your legs still slung over his shoulders so that you’re bent nearly in half. He’s still too fucking clothed for your liking- his leather belt digs into the back of your thighs as he presses a sloppy kiss to your dry lips. “I want everyone here to know you’re mine, sweetheart.”

Your hands cradle his face, pulling him in for a deeper kiss as he slowly lowers your legs from his shoulders. Your over extended legs flop down onto the mattress, and you whine into his mouth as he massages his tongue with yours.

“I’m yours, Eddie,” you moan against his damp skin. “Oh god, I want it- want everyone to know.”

You take the initiative, with one last kiss turning in his grip. His hand slips, catching himself from toppling off the bed as you scoot onto your stomach, your knees planting on the mattress so that you can wiggle your hips up at him. 

Eddie sucks in a sharp breath, smoothing a gentle palm over your ass before he kisses your lower back. He pauses, drawing soft kisses up your spine until his breath sweeps your shoulder blade. “You’re so beautiful. How’d I get so fucking lucky?”

A quiet keen is the only answer you give him, shoving your hips backward to get him to just fucking touch you, but he pulls away too quickly. There’s the clink of a belt buckle, a zipper being pulled, and you tense, your hand closing into a fist around the pillow at the head of the bed. Following the rustle of clothes, you hear the crinkle of a condom wrapper- you hadn’t even realized he had one. It didn’t even occur to you, in your dizzying need to fuck him, like some loveblind idiot.

You almost berate yourself for it, but then you feel his cock press against your entrance, and all those thoughts die away. He rolls his hips, and every single muscle in you tightens.

Eddie chokes on air as pleasure positively tears through you. Your eyes roll back, your mouth wide open and threatening to drool onto the pillow you’ve been shoved face-first into. 

“F-fuck, you’re so big.” It’s the only thing you can choke out around moans. He splits you so wide, dragging through your slick walls that are still so sensitive from your first orgasm. 

“Holy shi- oh my god-” he gasps behind you. “M’so sorry- I can’t- Feels so fucking good-”  

You groan, unable to form words to adequately answer him. All you can manage to do is jam your hips backward in an attempt to get him deeper, as far as he can fucking go inside you. Your body blazes, everything coming up smelling of sex and sweat as you wail hopelessly into the pillow.

Eddie snarls, a deep and dangerous noise in the back of his throat as he draws his hips back and presses into you again. There’s no time for you to adjust, each thrust a little more forceful than the last. His cock hits sharp heaven deep inside you, punching loud and guttural moans from you each time his hips impact your ass. 

“That’s a good girl- so ffffucking wet, goddamnit,” Eddie praises you through clenched teeth, ringed fingers and bruised knuckles wrapping loosely around your neck to lift your head from the pillow. “Let them hear all those pretty noises for me, baby.”

“Eddie…” You hiccup, your voice kicked up into a shrill whine. You swallow against the press of his fingers on your throat, holding your jaw into the air so there’s no place for your sounds to go but to the wall and through it. 

Above your head, the banging on the wall starts back up. Eddie drops your chin and slams his hand on top of the headboard, gripping tightly at plywood that threatens to hit the wall as he ruts into you. Your face hits the pillow again, but your sobbing moans still come out loud and disruptive as Eddie speeds up his hips in retaliation. 

“Doing so good f’me. Feel me, princess? So fucking deep,” Eddie groans. His cock licks up a sweet heat inside of you, and you know you’re going to come. He curses lowly, his hips pistoning into yours hard enough that you have to smack your hand into the headboard to keep from knocking into it. “Taking me so well. So perfect- s’like you were made for me, I know it, I just fucking know it…”

Eddie’s arm wraps around your waist from behind, and he hauls your back into his sweat-slick chest. You almost feel weightless, for a moment, before you’re settled back into his lap, your thighs bracketing his as he kneels beneath you, clutching you against him. 

A gasp tears from your mouth with a loud, “Shit!” His cock hits a different spot inside you, bursting color behind your closed eyelids as you throw your head back against his shoulder.

Eddie’s breath fans across your neck, sweat-damp hair tickling the side of your face. His hand greedily palms at your breasts, bouncing you in his lap as his tongue traces a wet line along your shoulder. 

“Just know you were made for me,” Eddie repeats quietly in your ear, his breath feeling like flames on your neck. “That’s why you found me, baby. You were meant to be mine, my girl.”

His girl.

“Yours, Eddie,” you blubber, reaching back to dig a fist into his hair as his hands squeeze your breasts. “M’all yours.”

“Yeah?” Eddie murmurs, his voice saccharine and velvety. He moans in your ear when your cunt clenches down, a threatening throb at the outskirts of your orgasm. “Say it again.”

A whimper, high and needy in your throat. “I’m yours. Your girl- oh, f-fuck, Eddie- I’m gonna-” 

“That’s right. My good girl. Only easy when it comes to me, right?” 

Eddie’s hand drags purposefully down, fingernails dragging just through your pubic hair, just barely grazing where you want him- just like you did to him, that first morning. The realization makes you seize up, all tense from head to toe. 

“What’s it like, when I do it to you? You like it?” He whispers, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. You suck in a sharp breath, a hiss through your teeth as you nod. His laugh is barely a ghost of a breath on your skin. “Yeah. I did, too.”

Eddie’s voice in your ear says, “Come for me,” and not even a fraction of you would deny him that.

His finger drags slowly your clit, calloused skin catching on the swollen bud, and you come. Your body slumps against him, and you’re so grateful for his arms around you to hold you through it. You’d swear he was splitting you in half with the sounds coming from your mouth. Your head tilted back on his shoulder, every breath is punctuated by a hoarse cry that breaks in your throat. Your hand clamps around his arm, which is still cradling you close to his chest as his own moans ring in your ear, his hips driving up into you as your cunt pulses around his cock. You know that he comes when his teeth wrap around the muscle of your shoulder and bite down.

Silence settles over your sweaty bodies, but thunderous banging is still furiously happening on the other side of the wall. You hear voices, words too muffled by the drywall to be intelligible, but they still sound angry.

Eddie won’t let you go, not yet. He’s clutching you, his mouth still wrapped around your shoulder, even though his teeth aren’t biting anymore. You pet his forearm, and lean forward just enough to knock lightly on the wall.

“We’re done!” Your voice cracks with the effort it takes to call out to the people on the other side.

“Fantastic show, my love. I think we deserve five stars.” Eddie laughs, nuzzling his face into your neck as he finally releases your shoulder from the trappings of his jaw. “I think I’m corrupting you, sweetheart.”

You hum, still petting his arm. “I think you already have, teddy.” 

Eddie freezes, his grip on your waist tightening just a little. “No one’s called me that since I was a kid.”

“What, teddy?” He nods. Your fingernails drag dully down his arm, tracing over a tattoo of a swarm of bats, which breaks out in goosebumps under your touch. “Is that… Can I call you that?”

“Yeah,” he rasps. “Yeah, you can- you can call me teddy.”

It’s quiet after that. He rocks you in his arms until you kiss his knuckles and lift yourself gingerly from his lap, earning a pacified grunt from him as his softened cock slides out of you. You watch him as he ties off the condom and tosses it in the wastebasket a few feet away, then flops backward onto the bed so that his head hits the pillows. 

You chuckle, sliding forward to run your hands along his stomach. “Honey, you still have your pants on.”

He hadn’t taken them completely off, only pushed them down far enough to free his cock and have at you. What’s more, he still has his boots on, too- big, black motorcycle things that nearly hang off the end of the bed. 

Eddie grunts dismissively. “C’n deal with it in the morning.”

“No sleeping with clothes on.”

He huffs petulantly, but the scowl he tries to give you turns into a lovesick grin pretty quick. He tucks his hand behind his head in mock-nonchalance. “Hey, pretty lady. You come here often?”

“Once or twice, so far.” You grin at him as he laughs, rolling your eyes as you move down the bed to finish undressing him. You untie his boots and let them fall with his jeans and boxers onto the floor at the end of the bed, glancing up at him once you’re finished.

His eyes are closed. You don’t think he’s sleeping yet, but he’s flushed, covered in sweat. He’s still so much of an enigma to you, but you adore him. You’re enamored with him. 

You crawl slowly up the length of his body, feline-like in your movements. You appraise his tattoos, smoothing your hands over them as you go. You lean down and press featherlight kisses across his beautiful, bruised face. 

Eddie cracks his eyes open at you with an inquisitive smirk, just barely puckering his lips to kiss you back when you land one on them. “Feeling me up again, sweetheart?” 

You hum, kissing his chest. “You’re hot.” It’s the only explanation you afford him. And once he’s shut his eyes again, you carefully move down his body, peppering kisses across his naked torso.

“What’re you-?” He twitches when you drag your tongue over his cock, still wet and salty with his cum. He groans as you slowly lift it, suckling on the head gently. “Oh… Sweetheart, m’not… I don’t think I can-”

“I’m just cleaning you up, teddy,” you tell him gently. “S’okay. You can go to sleep.”

He hums tiredly, his hand lifting to run through your hair, stroking tenderly against the back of your head. “My girl just can’t keep her hands off, huh?”

“Not a chance,” you tell him, giving him another slow lick. “You’re just too fucking pretty, Eds.”

“And you’re too fuckin’ perfect.” Eddie only really falls asleep after he comes again.

I’m never gonna leave you, baby, even if you lose what’s left of your mind…

A few days later, the car breaks down in Colorado Springs.

It had been acting up for a while, of course. Even though you enjoyed watching Eddie when he was bent over the open hood, bare arms sweaty and streaked with grease in the afternoon heat, you knew it ultimately wasn’t going to end well. 

Each time Eddie tinkered with it, more and more concerning things came to light. “One of your cylinders misfired,” he said one time, shaking his head. He’d insisted on driving it from that point on. Another, “The fucking spark plug has gone out. We have to get a new one.” That was $75 you didn’t have to spare.

You guess the car had just fucking had it when you got to Colorado. You went to start it up at a truck stop, and the whole thing just sputtered and coughed at you, and then you didn’t have an engine anymore.

After Eddie paced around and cursed about it for a couple minutes, you both crawled into the back of the van and locked the door. And now you sit cross-legged across from each other, with everything of value that you have to your name in a little pile in front of you.

When you left home, you’d saved up a couple thousand to live off of until you got somewhere you felt comfortable working and living in. Since then, you’ve squandered it on food and motels and gas, never staying put and now rambling along with Eddie.

From the ATM, Eddie had stolen around two thousand dollars. He’s in the same boat as you, now looking at only a couple hundred in between the two of you. Hardly enough to afford a hotel room or bus fare for the both of you. Certainly not enough to get you a new car, or even rent one.

He scrubs his hands down his face, dirty fingernails pressing into his skin. “You should take it.”

“What?” You squint at him. 

“There’s enough here for bus fare for you, at least,” Eddie murmurs, his fingers poking at the pile and scooting it toward you. “Getcha where you want to go. Get a nice job at a tourist shop in Vegas or Santa Monica or something.”

“Are you fucking kidding me, Eddie?” you snap. You swat his hand away from the pile, looking affronted. “I’m not taking the money, so cut it out. We’ll figure something else out.”

Eddie shakes his head, like he’s already made up his mind. “We had a deal. I fix your car, you take me with you. And I didn’t fix your car.”

“Yeah, but that was before…” you trail off, scrutinizing his expression. He won’t meet your gaze. He won’t look at you. 

Eddie’s mouth opens and closes like he’s a fish out of water. Then, he says bitingly, “Before we fucked?” 

You can feel all the emotion drain from your face, leaving you a blank, hollow screen with dead eyes just staring at him. It’s your best defense against bursting into tears at the very tone of his voice. 

When he glances at you, you can tell that he wants to take it back immediately. His teeth worry his bottom lip, ripping at chapped shreds of skin. “Don’t do me any favors, sweetheart.”

“It’s not a fucking favor- I thought we were doing this together.”

Eddie talks over you. “You don’t need to keep dragging me around with you, okay? You’re off the hook.”

“Eddie, you’re being mean,” you croak at him. Not exactly the quick, biting wit that you can usually whip out- he’s shocked you.

He drops his eyes, his hands squeezing his knees. “Yeeeah,” he grumbles, his fingers tapping sporadically against his denim jeans. “Well, I told you, I’m no good for you. You didn’t listen.”

You told me that while your tongue was in my pussy. The words are balanced on the edge of your teeth, but they won’t fall out. Your hands itch to reach out for him, grab his chin and force him to look at you, somehow. 

Instead, they snatch up the little bit of cash from your side of the pile in between you. You crumple it in your hand and shove the wad into your jacket pocket before you grab the strap of your weather-beaten backpack full of the last things you have to your name, and kick open the back door of the van. 

It’s summer, but it’s windy in Colorado. It must be something about the mountains, you guess, and it being early morning. Condensation hangs in the air, making the air both heavy and cool as you breathe. Funny- if you slept naked, you’d probably have to curl up into each other for warmth, for a change. 

You’re either vibrating from rage or from the abnormal chill in the air. Standing on the street corner with the gas station sign lit up in neon behind you, you kick the crosswalk pole with your dirty converse. You’re still arguing with him, in your head. We were in this together, motherfucker. I told you, I’m your girl. I put all my eggs in your basket. Whatever fucking martyr complex this is, you can shove it right up your stupid-

“I know.” Eddie’s tattooed arms wrap around your waist and pull you into his chest, his face buried in your hair as he whispers urgently into it. “I know, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

So, you weren’t arguing with him in your head. You were actually yelling everything you were thinking, and he chased you as you stormed off. Seems about par for the course. 

“Fuck you, Eddie, did it even mean anything to you?” you blather at him, your voice thick with impending tears. “‘Cause it meant something to me.”

“Course it did,” he rasps at you, his arms squeezing you to him so tight that you’re running out of air to breathe. “I didn’t- I was being shitty. I’m sorry. Please, don’t leave.”

“Then don’t push me away.” The tears collect in your lashes, finally dripping down your cheeks. You turn in his arms and whack your hand flat against his chest. “Don’t treat me like some slut, don’t- I didn’t sleep with you just because I wanted you to fix my fucking car, you jerk.”

“I don’t think that,” Eddie insists quietly, wiping your tears away with his thumbs. “C’mon, now.”

“You said-”

“I know what I said,” he cuts you off. “And I didn’t mean it. I have a bad habit of throwing away the good things in my life, ‘cause… ‘cause of that martyr complex, you said-” He jams his tongue against the roof of his mouth when you hiccup, staring up at him with a wobbly lip. “Don’t let me throw you away. You’re the best thing I’ve ever had, ‘n I don’t wanna lose you just because I’m an idiot.”

You sigh, your head falling neatly into the crook of his neck like it’s meant to be there. He’s too quiet, holding you against him at the street corner. Eddie breathes in deep and kisses the side of your head longingly. 

“I can get us a car.”

You lift your head to look at him. He wears a disappointed expression. “But we don’t have any money.”

“It won’t take money,” Eddie mumbles as he strokes your back. “I, uh… I didn’t want to end up like my old man, but…” he shrugs, his eyes cast away from you. He chuckles sadly. “Nothin’ I can do about that, now, I guess. I mean, look how you met me.” 

Oh. You can infer what he means by the far-off look on his face, like he’s resigned himself to his fate. You lift your hands to cradle his face; the bruise on his cheekbone has faded to yellow, the scab on his chin almost healed. He’s never looked more beautiful to you.

“You’re a good man, Eddie,” you tell him sternly.

Eddie’s smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Don’t be too sure of that. You might change your mind.”

‘Cause you know I’ll be right there beside you, riding through all these western nights…

The sedan isn’t exactly flashy, or new. It’s a tin can on wheels that’ll crumble into bits if you so much as side-swipe a trash can. You keep a lookout as Eddie jimmies an unwound wire coat hanger between the glass window and the door, and a second later the door is unlocked.

You’re unnervingly calm. How did you get to be so calm about all this? Stealing money, driving getaway cars, stealing other cars when those ones don’t work. Suddenly an accomplice to whatever illegal shit has to happen for you to get where you’re going.

What’s worse, you think, is how badly the sight of him hotwiring the car turns you on. It’s practically horrifying the way your skin crawls and your core burns as you watch his hands fiddle with the wires beneath the console, so quick that your mind can barely process it. You’re not sure if the adrenaline in your veins is from looking to see if anyone’s coming, or if it’s because you want to jump his bones.

"I swear to you," he's saying as he swipes at frayed wires, "I swear, when we get to San Francisco, I'll never- I'm gonna get an honest, real fuckin' job, I'm not gonna do anything to hurt yo-"

The car starts, and you leap into the front seat without giving it any more thought. “Eddie?”

“Yeah, sweetheart?” He looks up at you, his brows tilted up expectantly. He’s still tucking wires back under the dashboard, preparing to take off once he gets the door shut.

“I slept with you because I’m falling in love with you.”

Eddie’s eyes go wide as moons, glittering in the light of a fluorescent floodlight at the corner of the dark parking lot. 

“You don’t have to love me back,” you tell him honestly. “I just wanted you to know. I’m with you. And I’m not gonna leave.”

You don’t know if he loves you back- not yet, anyways. He doesn’t say it to you. But he kisses you like he does.

I'll be screaming your name past the gas stations, trailing down the interstate. Please don’t love how I need you, and know that one day, you and I could be okay.

[lxstfathier]

Hey can you do a William afton smut but can I be about like his kinks and some headcanons, and like what’s his type in a girl and stuff and can you do like something really smutty thanks xx

Omg yessss, i have some hcs for you, hope y’all like it!

Warnings: daddy kink, slapping, choking, degradation, breeding kink, basically pure filth. read at you own risk 💗

♡ William doesn’t really have a type when it comes to women. He thinks they’re all beautiful. However, he has a soft spot for girls who are younger and shorter than him, it feeds his raging daddy kink.

♡ Speaking of his daddy kink, he’s had it since he became a real father, and y’all can’t convince me otherwise. He just likes having someone who fully depends on him, and being the one in charge in every aspect of the relationship.

♡ He’s also really into breeding kink and primal play. There’s just something about hunting you like a prey, pining you to the ground and pumping you full of cum, that makes him feel absolutely feral.

♡ Super possessive too. William likes to make sure to mark you as his, leaving hickeys and bruises in every part of your body. He might even collar you, choosing one with a pretty heart-shaped tag that says “William’s property.”

♡ I’ve said it before and now i’ll say it again… he likes calling you his “dumb little bunny”. Cuz he’s super smart, literally a robotics prodigy, and you’re just his pretty little toy to use and degrade whenever he wants.

♡ Absolutely loves oral sex. He can spend hours eating you out, savoring your sweet juices and sucking your clit until you’re moaning and tugging at his hair. And when he sees you on your knees, gagging on his cock like a whore, he feels as if he is a damn god.

♡ William adores seeing you wearing pretty clothes and cute lingerie sets, but he’s so strong that he accidentally rips them off your body when he gets too excited.

♡ Choking and slapping is something that he likes to do almost every time you fuck. He feels powerful, and also he gets turned on with violence, so it’s no surprise that he chokes you until you almost pass out or slaps your cheeks until your skin is all red and sensitive.

♡ He kinda likes fucking you while wearing the spring bonnie suit…

♡ His cock is big, there’s no doubt in that cuz he is like 6’3, a really tall man. So it’s a struggle to take him inside your tight pussy. But don’t worry about it, he’ll make it fit even if you whine and cry in pain, stretching you out impossibly wide until his tip is pressed against your cervix.

♡ Most of the time he’s rough with you, but if he’s tired or in a good mood, he will be incredibly sweet.

♡ He also loves spitting in your mouth. Don’t ask me why, i just know it, he seems like the type of man to enjoy those type of nasty things.

♡ William is not the best at aftercare, cuz he is not super affectionate, but he tries. When you’re both satisfied after fucking like rabbits, he will hold you close to his chest as he smokes a cigarette, murmuring soft praises to your ear.

♡ And he always carries a filthy polaroid of you in his wallet.

[saltandburnheathens]

Good morning Miss Winnie. (Part II)

Part I

Pairing: Dean Winchester X Reader.

Rating: Gen.

Summary:

Two weeks after Dean became a father, it's time to jump back on the hunting horse. But he's hesitant.

Notes: Non-canon, no time line. And I don't ever want kids. But I just became an aunt and I sort of need to get this out of my system! Short and I'm not promising that I won't continue this. Who knows really. Finally this was written after I'd taken my usual nightly gummy.

“Bonnie?” 

You shot Dean a look across the kitchen. He was cooking eggs on the stove while you were nursing. Castiel was the only other member of the bunker awake at six a.m. and, fortunately, occupied the library. It wasn’t that you cared about the other men seeing you breastfeeding, it was how they reacted to it. Both became very awkward and outwardly attempted to look anywhere but at your breasts.

“You can’t accept Winnie, but you pick Bonnie?” 

Dean shrugged. 

“I was just thinking if we had a boy we could call him Clyde. We’d have our own little gang.” 

“Firstly, I’m not doing this again. And secondly, Bonnie and Clyde were felons.”

“What do you mean ‘you’re not doing this again?’ Don’t most women go crazy for more kids? They smell the baby's head and some hoo-doo helps them forget about the pain and bodily fluids.” 

“Yeah, well. You try being in labour for damn near forty eight hours and shitting yourself in a room full of people. Including the man you love. Then come back and tell me you’ve forgotten about it and wanna do it all over again.” 

“Point taken.” Dean laughed, plating up eggs and bacon for them both, “And you didn’t shit yourself by the way.”

“I didn’t?”

“I think I’d remember.”

You smiled at the plate of food and carefully lifted the baby from your breast. She’d long since stopped feeding and was instead squirming, ready to be winded. 

“I can take it from here.” Dean reached down and lifted the little girl up into his arms. He held her upright against his chest and began rubbing circles into her small back, “There we go kiddo. Get it up.” 

“Be careful.” You warned. 

“I’m not taking any chances.” Dean gestured to the polka-dot muslin cloth on his shoulder. 

You watched as he gently walked your daughter around the kitchen, her little body squirming while he cooed into her ear. She made several little squeaking noises, threatening to cry, only to be brought back to earth by her father’s tender voice. 

“Come on now, no tears. I’ve got you.�� 

Your eyes locked with Dean’s for a moment, both reflecting a soft smile. He was proving to be an excellent father, not that you’d doubted him for a second. But Sam had. He’d been very vocal about Dean knowing nothing about babies and how, despite the fact that he was happy for you both, he thought this whole ‘raising a family thing’ was a bad idea.

“You guys are great together! But I don’t think this is the right environment for a kid.”  Or something along the same bullshit. 

Dean had been adamant about her though. He damn near refused to speak to Sam until he stopped with his questions and logical answers. Sure you both had been sceptical about bringing a child into this life, but neither of you had actively prevented it. If it happened, it happened. 

Speaking of the devil. Sam groaned and stretched his arms above his head, stumbling into the kitchen. He dug the palm of his hands into his eyes, drawing them down his face afterwards. 

“Morning. Coffee’s in the pot.” Dean said, his voice shifting from Dad to brother by just an octave. 

Sam poured himself a hefty mug before offering more to the kitchen. You declined but insisted that he fill up Deans. 

“He’ll need the caffeine for your hunt.” 

“Oh so you’re back on the job then?” Sam questioned, his eyebrows rising. 

Dean’s brow furrowed as he shifted the little one on his chest. He searched her face, the cogs visibly turning in his head. 

“I’ll get back to you on that one.” 

“What? I thought you’d be happy to get back on the horse.” You’d assumed that after being out of work for almost two weeks that Dean would be craving a hunt, but his face said otherwise. 

“Yeah. I mean I am. But she - “ 

“She’ll be right here when you get back.” You interrupted, “It’s a simple in and out job. Right Sam?” 

“Sure. Run of the mill ghost in the attic for some old friend’s of Bobby’s.” Sam took a lengthy sip of his coffee, “And it pays too.” 

“See? And we could use the cash for Winnie.” 

Sam scoffed, barely holding onto the coffee in his mouth. He looked between you both and then to his niece. 

“Winnie?”

“Short for Winchester but not her name. Just a placeholder until we find the perfect one.” You inform, “But what’s so wrong with Winnie anyway? It’s a perfectly acceptable name.” 

“Nothing wrong with it at all. It’s just not what I pictured you both to come up with.” 

“Fortunately it’s not.” Dean added, shifting the baby from one arm to the other as she reached up with her little hands, “As for the hunt, I’m not sure.”

He offered a finger for her hand to close around, eyes never leaving her. the features on his face softened, lips almost pulling downwards into a frown. 

You exchanged a knowing look with Sam. 

“If this is about Win- her- you don’t need to worry. I can cope fine on my own for one night.” You offered

“Yeah but what if it isn’t just one evening?” Dean answered, his voice doing nothing to disguise the concern he was feeling. 

“It’s only a few towns over. We’ll be home by four am - ” 

“But what if something goes wrong? Huh? Then what? I’ve left my wife without a husband, my little girl without a father. And -” 

You jumped to your feet at the distress in his voice and rushed to loop an arm around his middle.  

“Don’t say that. It’s a run of the mill job, something you guys have done one thousand times over. Nothin’ bad is gonna happen other than a few bruises.” You laid your head on his shoulder, eyes coming to settle on the little lady in his arms, “I can deal with those. And she’ll not know any different.” 

With a deep sigh, Dean kissed you gently on the head. It was an uncharacteristic display of affection, especially in front of his brother, but you hadn’t the heart to react. You knew he was feeling vulnerable, that much was clear in his reaction, and to draw attention to it would only make things worse. Instead you settled against him and allowed his warmth and the soothing sounds of your baby to still your own anxiety. 

You’d be lying if you didn’t admit that some part of you was fearful of your husband walking out of the bunker and never coming home. Hunting was a dire job, one which had claimed the life of many of your comrades. Dean may be an experienced hunter, renowned in his own right, but he certainly wasn’t immune to unfortunate outcomes. That much had been proven time and time again. 

Lost in thought, the only sounds in the kitchen were the gentle fussing of your daughter and the whirring of the circulation fans. 

Finally Castiel broke the silence with his sudden entrance. He appeared in a flurry of feathers, one coming to land on the table top by your abandoned coffee cup. 

“We have doors, Cas. Use ‘em.” Dean warned, pulling your daughter closer to his chest as she began to fuss. 

“I’m sorry, Dean. It’s a force of habit.” Castiel answered, taking a seat next to Sam, “I startled her.” 

“You think?!” 

You moved to take the baby from Dean but he shook his head, whispering a small ‘I got this’ back to you as he started to rock her from side to side. But it was no good, her cries grew louder and more furious. You began to wonder how those big sounds could even come from such a small creature. 

Before you could offer your help again Castiel brushed past you. 

“I didn’t mean to scare her.” He said, coming to stand in front of Dean “Is there anything I can do?” 

“Here” to your surprise, Dean held your daughter out towards the angel, “You can settle her down while I grab her diaper bag.” 

You lean in and quickly sniff.  

“I don’t think she needs changed, D.”

“Well I don’t know what else to do. She -” 

Castiel reached forward and lifted the infant from Dean. He brought her to settle in the crook of his arm, offering up his fingers for her to grab at. Gradually she began to quiet, her hands reaching up for Castiel’s and her eyes wide, staring into his face. 

You and Dean watched on in outward confusion. Castiel, to your knowledge, had never handled a baby before. At least not in recent years. 

“How did you do that?” Dean asked almost aggressively, “She was cryin’ up a storm seconds ago and you just took her and nothing.”

“Did you use your grace?” Sam suggested. 

“She’s much too small to handle my grace in any capacity. It would kill her.” 

You considered jumping in and taking her from Castiel but stopped yourself. She was settled and happily holding onto the angel's fingers. No sense in ruining it. Beside you Dean was tense, clearly struggling with something along the same lines. His face was etched in hard lines and you could see his brows furrowing. 

Gently you looped your arm through his and guided him to his long forgotten coffee cup. He moved but his eyes never left you daughter in the angel’s arms. 

“So,” Sam cleared his throat, “About this hunt.” 

“What about it?” Dean glared at him over the rim of his cup. 

“Are you in or -” 

“He’s in.” You answer before the question could even be finished. 

“Wha - I -” 

“Oh come on. You got this. I can handle her and Cas will be here if I need any help. Right Cas?” The angel gave something akin to a positive response, “You have to get back out there at some point.”

Dean’s gaze flickered from Sam to you, finally coming to land on Castiel. He watched the angel gently swaying the little girl in his arms and the lines on his face began to soften. 

“Hmmm. You’re sure about this?” He asked. 

“Positive.” 

“If there’s any trouble, anything at all, you call me.” 

“Sure.” You smiled, “But I doubt Winnie will be as much of an issue as your malevolent spirit.” 

Dean chuckled, accompanied by Sam. 

“God, we’re really going to have to talk about her name when I get back.” 

[aemonds-favorite-rider]

Aegon's Halloween Party.

mdni. nsfw below

hi everyone. i like halloween. do you like halloween? this is what i think modern! hotd men would dress up as with their girl to attend Aegon Targaryens yearly halloween party.

Aegon Targaryen:

Bonnie and Clyde. He's your ride or die and vice versa. He dresses in the old timey clothes with his dress shirt sleeves rolled up. Joint tucked between his teeth as his hands run up your old timey suit. Telling you what a pretty partner in crime you are. He absolutely pounds the shit out of you in his bed mid party before going back with a cheeky smirk. Your stolen panties in his suit pocket like the perfect thief.

Aemond Targaryen:

Ghostface. Could you imagine? Getting this tall man into a ghostface mask paired with your Sidney costume? It's a miracle you even make it to Aegon's halloween party. You last all but an hour pretty much before you're both leaving to get back to your place...where a lovely night of role play goes on that leaves you absolutely screaming :)

Jacaerys Velaryon:

Hear me out! Victor Van Dort and Emily from Corpse Bride. Is he not perfect for it?! Tall and lanky, even the hair. He absolutely loves the effort you put into it all and 100% is bending you against the bathroom counter at the party hiking up the tattered dress as he murmurs for you to be so good for him so you don't get caught. Letting you know you're his woman.

Cregan Stark:

Little Red Riding hood and the big bad wolf. It writes itself folks. Letting you tease up his long brown hair and giving him fake canines...you don't even go to Aegon's party. He takes you straight to the woods and letting you roam out far enough before hunting you down...who's afraid of the big bad wolf?

[cloverexe777]

!werewolf!soap with a human S/o

a sign that he’s getting ready to turn is that he chows on your clothes or shows and other dog like behavior

when he does transform and starts rubbing his scent all over the house and once he feels everything is covered in him he’ll start following you around the house in hopes to catch you in the perfect moment and rub his scent on to you

“Johnny stop I’m trying to rest” you’d whine “hush Bonnie” he’d shoot back

has a massive breeding kink he definitely want to have about three or kids with you he claims that he wants to make a strong pack with you ever if the kids are human

you’d be in the your hospital room holding you sweet child and he’ll be like “hmm let’s have another”

!Vampire!ghost with a human s/o

His diet consists of blood bags and sometimes a bloody stick he only fed from you once and that was in the bedroom

“you alright luv” his rough voice came out from you neck “…huh yeah” you’d murmur back to dazed by the feeling of being drank from

Has a primal kink he just loves chasing you around the house the pour though of hunting you down thrills him

“I can hear you heart beating from miles a way there’s no win this game of ours* he says throwing you over his shoulder with a dark chuckle

Almost accidentally hypnotized you in to want a baby but we don’t need to go over that story

[oceantornadoo]

next time (johnny mactavish x f!reader)

heavy angst

“fuck, i’m hit.” you say into your comms, repeating it along with your call sign. you scramble around the side of the building, desperately looking for somewhere to sit or lay down. too bad the terrorists your team was currently hunting down didn’t think of their guests when they designed their hideout.

you lay down with you back to the wall as you put pressure on your wound, only to see blood dripping through your fingers. you’re bleeding too fast for a normal injury, the shrapnel from the bullet having nicked an artery internally. your vision starts going fuzzy as you suddenly turn desperate. you can see the reaper out of the corner of your eye, the room turning cold. not yet, you beg.

“bonnie, where are ye? come on, come on.”

“south-south side of the building. i don’t know where, i can’t - i can’t see.” your vision is fading, years of professionalism going down the drain as the tears start flooding down your face. out of all the bullet wounds you’ve survived, they’ve never felt like this. final.

you hear a skid of boots and a sharp curse down the hall. he’s here, he found you.

“johnny?” you hiccup, trying to hold your hand to your wound while feeling your strength fade.

“right here, leannan. come on, gotta get ye to exfil.” soap tries to prop you up, strong hand covering your own over the wound, a new source of pressure. you’re trying to stand but you can’t, instead emitting a whine of frustration.

“johnny, i can’t. it doesn’t feel right.” he’s the only thing you can see, tunnel vision creeping from all sides. this lovely man of yours, the one who gets on your last nerves daily but silently accepts your knocks at his door after nightmares. he’s always pushing your buttons, trying to see how far you can both take this push and pull before someone gives in. you know he’s meant for you, know him like the back of your hand because he’s you and you’re him, one and the same. all you wanted was more time, you see that now.

he’s murmuring to you in soothing tones while yelling into his comms for the rest of the team, pleading for backup. everyone is too far away, ambushed by unseen forces. it’s just you and him.

“johnny, johnny. look at me.” you leave a bloody handprint as you turn his chin, exerting far more effort than you physically can. he’s looking at you with love in his eyes, the yearning built up over years and years.

“no. not today.”

“i’m sorry. wanted more time with you. we haven’t even gotten to the good part yet.”

“leannan, no. stop.”

“in the next life, yeah? you’re my man, johnny.”

“yer my woman, leannan. i cannae-“ you stumble and he helps you back to the ground, realizing you won’t make it to exfil.

“cannae do this without you. please.” he’s murmuring silent prayers as you smile weakly, trying to take in his handsome face one last time before your vision goes dark. he pulls your forehead to his and breathes you in, souls entwining.

“next time?”

“always.”

—

inspired by cassian and nesta from acotar in that one scene

[vxsellie]

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ WILD WEST !

— this is just to give u a visual for the world building in ‘tangled bones’. all of the pictures are from pinterest & every town / city / and house depicted is made up, & not at all historically accurate!!!

this will be added to the start & end of each chapter so it's easily accessible. i just wanted to make the little world in my head more tangible for myself while also making my story more digestible for you! if you have any questions or would like certain areas / places added that are mentioned, just ask & i'll be more than happy to indulge you

<< back to masterlist !

UPTOWN

significance. where the strauss family resides

residents. this little town is home to those wealthy enough to sustain living here. rich farmers, business owners, mining rig owner, etc find themselves in uptown due to it being closer to wealthy customers and the railway station that journeys in & out of the town.

desc. uptown is located in the very center of the west, the heart of trade and commerce to all of those involved. thin patches of grass grow here, but it struggles to thrive. brick streets are lined with homes and businesses, the construction maintained and kept nice when compared to any of the neighboring towns. uptown is so large with such a lively population that many consider it a city, seeing as it's on the brink of being deemed one.

STRAUSS RESIDENCE

significance. where our main character, charlotte strauss, grew up ; the house she ran away from.

residents. homes the esteemed strauss family which consists of three members, mother father and daughter. francis strauss, the man of the house, upkeeps the land and provides income to sustain living here. bonnie strauss, francis's third wife, raises her only child within the walls of the home whilst also cooking & cleaning for her little family. charlotte strauss, the only heir to the strauss lineage, was born and raised within this house, birthed in the very bathtub upstairs. this home is all she's known for her entire life. no wonder she had to get out.

desc. the exterior of the strauss residence is depicted in the last image of the 'uptown' section. the home is built of pale blue wood and large white columns, vines and dust tracing the corners of the building. the interior is decorated small and homey, white walls and mahogany flooring and hanging chandeliers.

GOLDENEDGE

significance. where both ellie and joel currently live.

residents. very few people live in goldenedge, the land do vast and far apart that it doesn't exactly have an exact population number. mostly farmers inhabit this land, using its size for crops

desc. deep orange desert sand coats the land, dirt roads and cattle the only sign of life. houses are hundreds of acres apart, neighbors never seeing one another unless meeting is priorly planned. cows and sheep are free to roam the land, so desolate that there's nobody around enough to complain. farmers love this land, fields and hay bales dotting the horizon.

ELLIE'S HOUSE

significance. where the love interest, ellie williams, currently resides.

residents. ellie lives alone in her tiny house, happy in her own company as long as she has the consolation of knowing that nobody will come knocking on her door asking for sugar. she's considered adopting a cat or dog, but sees no point in it due to her rarely being home & always elsewhere ⎯ whether that be out bounty hunting or out drinking with her boss, joel miller.

desc. located in goldenedge ; her house built literally in the middle of nowhere. joel is her closest neighbor and he's about fifteen miles away. ellie prefers it this way, though. the house is white, the paint beginning to chip on the outside. she has a small wrap-around porch where she sits and drinks with joel, overlooking her horse stables and swishing grass. her kitchen has a tiny circular table, only needing two seats ⎯ one in case of joel randomly visiting her (which he does quite frequently). it's decorated lazily, tools and random pictures nailed into the wall haphazardly and without much thought. somehow, though, over the years it's turned into an actually well-decorated space. it's messy at times, but it's cozy and lived in. it's home.

RUBY RIDGE

significance. where most fugitives (including charlotte) are found by bounty hunters.

residents. home to those too poor to afford living in uptown, but wealthy enough to not end up in deadwood. people who live here mostly consist of drunken old men here to gamble and drink, or outlaws running from ellie & joel while trying to sell illegal products to the drunken men. brothels and bootlegging shacks thrive here.

desc. the streets are made of dirt, the buildings on either side made of rotting wood and cheep nails that fall apart weekly. most buildings here struggle to survive the tiniest gust of wind. but, frankly, this is ellie's favorite place in the world. everyone here is so social. kids can be seen running up and down the streets, women luring men into the brothels, men drunk and spending all their money. the atmosphere is so personable despite its slight uneasiness. nobody in ruby ridge has good intentions, but that's what makes the town so lovable.

DEADWOOD

significance. where ellie grew up. until she was fifteen.

residents. people who live in deadwood have a very short life expectancy, to put it bluntly. the townspeople are rude and irritable, but they have good reason ⎯ they're in the act of starving to death. kids here have to steal in order for their families to have enough food to make it through winter. parents pray and hope they don't have kids for fear of needing to provide for another human under their roof.

desc. the slums of the west. buildings are made of stone, jagged and uneven. the streets are nonexistent as nobody here has enough money to afford any form of transportation, even a horse. beggars line the town, ribs poking through their skin as they cough and hack from an incurable illness.

THICKET FOREST

significance. you'll see

residents. seeing as naught but nature exists out here, it's rare to see anybody in thicket forest. sometimes, travelers or traders can be seen on horseback but they rarely stay long, knowing that being out here for too long leads only to death. tons of wildlife is here though!

desc. outside of all the towns and away from civilization, a forest is located in the center of the desert. the trees are lush and green, watering holes thriving in their beauty. but the trip here is two days each way, meaning most sane people would be wise enough to avoid ending up out in thicket forest. after leaving town ⎯ any town ⎯ you're engulfed by desert and sand and cacti. but after a seven hour trip into the distance, shrubs and bushes begin to dot the land, soon fading into trees and a thick foliage. but by then, you're likely too late unless you turn back as soon as you enter the forest. lots and lots of sustenance is required in order to survive a trip to thicket and back. best of luck to anyone who strays out here.