#Part 4 is now available on AO3 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

da-rulah · 5 months ago

Text

The Mayor's Daughter - Mary Goore x f!Reader [Part 7]

Summary: Mary is in danger, walking into the lion's den with nothing but a pocket knife. Forrest is on his way, but will it be too late…?

Rating: Explicit, 18+

Word Count: 11.2k

Warnings: Alcohol abuse, themes of abandonment, difficult childhood, threat, violence, blood

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | PART 6 | PART 7 | PART 8

ALSO AVAILABLE ON AO3 | MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

A/N: Ladies, gents and enby darlings, I need to draw your attention to this stunning artwork I commissioned of Mary from the unbelievably talented @ghuleh-draws... I cannot believe how gorgeous he is and I could talk about it for hours. Please, go and show her and the art some love. Hopefully it might heal some of the trauma I've caused with both last chapter and this one... And once again, a big thank you to @angellayercake & @her-satanic-wiles for beta reading this!

Mary’s arms ached, and yet, he continued with his work. Mr. Rogers had started to lose some of his dexterity, his arthritic hands no longer able to do as much as they used to and so, Mary’s workload had as good as doubled. Furniture in need of a new lease of life had begun to pile up in the workshop, and school prevented him from making the dent in the work he needed to. Late evenings were becoming later and later, and yes, Mary’s grades had started to suffer.

But it was becoming impossible to ignore the financial situation he found himself in, and – even at sixteen years old – the weight of responsibility on his shoulders. There was no choice here. If he wanted to move himself and his mother into a real home and out of the scummy little motel on the outskirts of town, they had found themselves in, he had to do what he had to do; with very little time to be the kid he still was...

He’d stopped glancing at the clock on the wall of the workshop long ago, well aware midnight had come and gone. It wasn’t the ideal place to be on a Friday night, when all his friends were out enjoying their freedom. Still, he continued to sand down the wood of the dresser he was working on tonight despite the aching. If he could just get the sanding and the first layer of staining done tonight, it would be dry by the time he came back into the workshop on Sunday and he could spend at least Saturday evening with his friends like he’d planned. If one night a week was all the free time Mary would get, he’d just have to be grateful for that.

Mary turned off the sander and swiped his hand across the top of the dresser, feeling how smooth it now was to the touch – no ridges, no scratches and totally even. Mr Rogers himself couldn’t do a better job, he was sure of it. And so, he pulled his dust mask from his face, letting it hang beneath his chin as he put the sander away and reached for the brushes and varnish.

As he did, his phone began to vibrate on the tool bench, violently rattling against the metal. He stared at it for a moment, part of him wanting to ignore it and continue his work. Another 45 minutes or so, and he could head back to the motel and get some rest. But it vibrated incessantly, until he had no choice but to put down the brush and tin in his hand with a loud thud and answer the damn thing.

“Yeah?” he spoke into the receiver, his tone dejected. He knew who was calling at this hour. He always knew.

“Yeah, hey kid. Me again. Look, I’m sorry but you’re gonna have to come and get her. I’ve cut her off but she won’t go.” That voice belonged to Manny, the bartender at Ace’s Taproom. He sounded as exhausted as Mary did.

Mary sighed into the phone, rubbing at his brow as if it would relieve the pressure that had built there.

“Can you just... I don’t know, can it wait an hour?” Just enough time to get this layer of varnish done... Then he could still head out tomorrow night, his plans intact.

“She’s already causing a bit of a scene, kid. The sooner you can get here, the better.” His tone was apologetic – even Manny knew this burden was too much for a kid to take. But who else was there?

“Alright, I’ll be there in fifteen. Thanks, Manny,” he relented, already untying the tool belt from around his hips with his free hand.

“I’m sorry, man. I’ll see ya soon,” Manny consoled just before he hung up. Mary dropped his phone back onto the bench with a loud slam, running his dusty fingers over his face and taking a deep, steadying breath. This was happening too often, almost every damn night. It had to stop, but what else could he do? He’d just have to keep saving her.

When Mary pulled into the parking lot in Mr Rogers’ old van that he had kindly gifted him – for the sole purpose of collecting and delivering the pieces of furniture they worked on at the shop, since he could no longer lift them in his old age – he took a second to himself, collecting his thoughts and preparing himself for a confrontation he knew was bound to happen.

He got out, heading towards the sign that flickered in neon red in the shape of an ace of spades. At this hour, there were very few people on the streets, much less left in the old taproom but still, he could feel the shame creeping in.

Inside, he spotted her immediately, slouched over the bar on her usual stool nursing an empty glass with an incredibly pale drop of amber liquid in, as if the ice that had inhabited the last dregs of her scotch had melted and watered it down. Manny stood at the other end of the bar, talking to one of the other regulars but he shot Mary a sad yet appreciative smile across the room. Mary just lifted his hand in an almost-wave, and headed over to the bar.

“Ma?” he called out gently. She barely stirred, her head laying on her arm like she was asleep. He shook her gently, pushing her hair from her face. “Ma, come on. Let’s go.” He pulled her shoulders into an upright position, her head lolling as she came to.

“N-no, I’m not done yet, baby,” she slurred, her tongue as drunk as her mind.

“Yeah you are, they’re shutting up soon. We gotta get home,” he encouraged, trying to help her down from the bar stool. Her head gained its bearings, and she caught sight of Manny at the other end of the bar, as well as the other patron, watching the saddest scene unfold in front of them both.

“Th-this prick... Said he wouldn’t serve me no more,” she rambled, pointing at Manny with an arm too weak to stay elevated. “What you starin’ at, huh?”

“Ma, come on... Let’s just go, yeah?” Mary’s cheeks were heating up with embarrassment.

“Don’t need your pity, dickhead!” she shouted, still slurring as if her tongue were too big for her mouth.

“Go home,” he told her firmly, trying not to rise to her insults. She flipped him off, while Mary wrapped her other arm around his shoulders and hoisted her to her feet, slowly taking her outside.

As soon as the door shut behind them, his mum pushed Mary from under her and tried to stand on her own two feet, stumbling a little in the process. But she found her footing, while Mary stayed close enough to catch her if she did fall.

“Idiot boy, ruining my fun,” she mumbled. That was like a knife to the chest...

“Either me or the cops, Ma,” he sighed. “Let’s just get home.”

“Home? HA!” she hollered, “Where’s that then?” Mary just rolled his eyes, taking her arm gently and guiding her back in the direction of the van. Her walking reminded him of a newborn foal, so unsteady as she took one step at a time and yet she tried to get him off her the whole way, unwilling to admit she needed help.

“Ma, this has gotta stop. This ain’t healthy...” he began, starting a losing battle. She stopped and slapped her hands down by her sides.

“Don’t start with me, Mary,” she warned, but he was determined.

“You’re drinking our savings, Ma! How are we ever gonna get outta that motel when you’re spending it faster than I can make it?” He raised his voice, his frustration evident.

“You said you were working overtime!” she argued, as if that were any real argument at all. Mary was a 16 year old boy; his only job should be a few hours a week at most, if at all. Not every hour he could squeeze in, and certainly not to pay for her alcoholism.

“Yeah, to get us a new place! But I can’t make enough if you’re just gonna spend it. Do I have to stop giving you money for you to stop? That’s for groceries, Ma. For shit you need!”

“Don’t you curse at your mother, boy...” she practically growled.

“Maybe if you acted like my mother-” It was a low blow, but not entirely unwarranted. His mother interrupted him with a sharp slap to his cheek, the suddenness stunning Mary into silence. His cheek stung, but his heart even more so. She’d never raised a hand to him before.

“M-Mary...” she stuttered, her eyes beginning to fill with tears as the realisation sank in that she’d just slapped her son. Her little boy... Mary took a step back as she reached for him, letting her stumble and regain her balance again. “I’m sorry...” She tried to grab at him, to hold him and stroke his hair and desperately apologise but he shoved her off, and she stumbled to the ground in a heap.

“I’m done. Get yourself home, Ma.” He turned quickly back to his van, his hands shaking with emotion he tried to hold back. His keys jangled in his hands as he unlocked the door with the press of a button, and he climbed into the seat with a slam of the door.

His cheek still stung with the force of her slap, his eyes welling up as he clenched his jaw so tight his teeth could have splintered. He squeezed his eyes shut and hit his head back against the plush cushion of the headrest several times as he slapped at the edge of the steering wheel, releasing all of his hurt, his anger in an outburst he contained to the cabin of the van now that he was alone.

Taking some deep breaths, he calmed himself to a point where he could wipe the fresh tears on his cheeks and shoved his keys into the ignition. But he paused before he turned them, the engine staying dormant, and glanced down into his wing mirror only to see his mother still in a heap on the floor. Her shoulders shook violently, her sobs audible even from here in the cab. His eyes lingered there, unable to tear them away as his chest ached. She looked so helpless, so utterly destroyed by what she’d done but more so, what had been done to her...

“God fucking damnit,” Mary muttered, climbing back out of the van and walking back over to her with caution. Of course he did... How could he leave her? His own mother, lying on the cold tarmac of a parking lot, in this state? Mary was all she had now, their shitty little apartment snatched from them, abandoned once again by anyone and everyone. For years it had always been Mary and her, against the world – that couldn’t change now, when he was all she had left.

Without a word, he lifted her again, her sobs quietening when she felt his hands under her arms and realised he’d come back for her. Her expression changed from anguish to surprise with an essence of gratitude and apology, allowing her broken son to pick up the pieces as he helped her back into the van. He took great care with every move, gently letting her get comfortable as he leaned over to strap the seatbelt across her, laying her head against the seat while she sobbed silently and hiccupped from time to time.

As he drove her home, she reached for the radio to flick it on, getting comfortable in the seat and using the sound to try and distract from the situation the pair of them found themselves in. Mary stayed quiet the whole time, keeping a watchful eye on his mother as she seemed to drift between sleep and reality now she was bundled into a warm and comfy seat.

“You used to tell me... I would hear you on there someday,” she slurred as they got closer to the edge of town, pointing weakly at the radio with a fond but weary smile. “My boy, ‘the rock star’,” she giggled. Mary looked ahead at the road, trying not to entertain the drunk rambles nor the dreams he’d squashed for himself with the weight of his responsibility. His one and only goal right now was to get them back on their feet – and even that felt unattainable.

Back at the motel, he watched his mother struggle with her dexterity to fit the key into their room door. Eventually, he gently took the keys from her and let them both inside, guiding her as had become their routine. He let her sit on the bed – the one they now had to share under the circumstances – and crouched at her feet to take her shoes off for her, placing them one by one on the floor.

He helped her take off her jacket, laying her down gently on the pillow while she curled in on herself in a foetal position. Mary headed into the bathroom with an empty glass, filling it with tap water and bringing it back out to his mother’s side of the bed. He crouched down next to her, urging her to drink. She did, small sips at a time.

“Ma, please... you gotta get better. We need to get outta here,” he said softly.

“I was getting better...” she sniffled.

“I know, Ma. You can get better again,” he encouraged, but there was a small part of him that worried she never would. “You just gotta move on from-”

“Stop,” she begged. “I don’t wanna hear it...” But Mary persisted. She had to hear him.

“You can’t let this shit stop you. You’re stronger than that. We’ve been through worse,” he insisted. Her head shot up from the pillow, her gaze stoney and angry.

“You have no idea, Mary... What it’s like to have the world promised to you and then ripped out from under you.” She spoke through gritted teeth.

“You’re worth a lot more than that fuckin-”

“Enough!” she yelled, rolling over onto her back to stare up at the ceiling. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. We could have had everything, if you had just...”

“Me?” Mary interrupted, instantly offended at her accusation. “What the fuck did I do?”

“Your attitude, Mary,” she shot her glare back at him. “Always fucking attitude.”

There was no chance she was blaming him for all this... This was neither his, nor his mother’s fault. There was someone to blame, but in their absence the only person close enough to his mother was Mary, and the only person she could lash out at was him. She couldn’t possibly mean what she was saying, and yet, it still stung all the same.

“Go to sleep,” he told her, his voice hardened and stern as if he were the adult, and she the child. “You’re just talking pure shit now. It ain’t my fault he lied to you.”

“He didn’t lie-”

“He did, Ma. He lied to you, and everyone else. He’s a piece of shit like everyone else in this washed up town!” Mary raised his voice, his anger at every injustice he faced from everyone around him mounting higher and higher. “I’m fucking sick of it, here! I wanna get us out, but you’re too busy drinking every dime I fucking make to notice that I’m fucking drowning!”

Mary stood up suddenly, smacking at the shitty motel phone on the dresser beside the bed. His mother sat up, steadying herself from the headrush and the room spinning around her.

“I’m doing my best, Mary!” she yelled.

“Are you? Cause your best was getting clean eight months ago. Your best was no alcohol, getting yourself a job, being a normal fucking Mom! But now you’re back here, and it’s me who’s gotta look after you!”

“I-I... I have an addiction, it’s not that easy-”

“You’re not even trying! You’ve fucking given up, and why? Just ‘cause some fuckhead promised you the world with a cherry on top and it turns out, he was lying like every other dickhead?” Mary was going too far, but with a lack of a proper outlet, being forced to grow up quickly and fend for the both of them, every bottled up thought and emotion was spilling from him without restriction.

His mother sat on the bed, watching her son thread his fingers through his hair in frustration and take some deep breaths to try and steady him – but they weren’t working.

“Y’know what? Fuck this. You call me when you decide to be a mother again.”

And with that, Mary grabbed his keys and stormed out of the motel room, slamming the door with so much force that the cheap painting on the wall fell and shattered behind him.

Despite picking up his keys, he bypassed the van and kept walking, his legs taking him further into town without a destination in mind. He’d roam aimlessly if he needed to, but he needed to let off some damn steam, to expel some of this fucking rage that he’d imprisoned for too long.

As he went, he found himself kicking over trashcans, the metal rattling along the sidewalk. He used his keys to scratch the sides of cars he stomped past – the expensive ones, mostly. The ones owned by people in this town with too much money, greedy fat cats with more of it than sense. On his keys, he had a swiss army knife keychain, and one particular car – a very expensive black SUV – he shoved the blade attachment into the tyre deep enough that it deflated, high pitched whistle getting quieter and quieter as he walked further into town.

By the time he was in the town centre, he was starting to see a few people out and about, shoving shoulder to shoulder into them with a look of pure thunder on his face. Most people simply yelled out at him to watch where he was going, or called him a punk or other variations of ‘delinquent’.

‘Yeah’, Mary thought, ‘that’s what you all fucking think of me’. A town full of people who only knew him for his namesake – a deadbeat father and a drunken mother. Why wouldn’t Mary follow suit? If people thought that of him already, maybe he should just live up to the expectations; become the stereotype and stop giving a shit about anyone and everyone around him.

Why should he try anymore?

But he shoved at the wrong shoulder outside a pool hall, two kids Mary knew as seniors from his high school stood outside with cigarettes in one hand and beer bottles gained with fake IDs in another.

Corbin and Asher.

“Hey! Hey, fuckface!” Mary heard from behind him. He kept walking, too angry to give a fuck. But they followed. “Mary fuckin’ Goore, huh? You piece of shit, think you can slam into me and walk the fuck away?”

Mary didn’t even look back, but they caught up...

Corbin grabbed the back of his jacket and slammed him face first up against the shutters of a closed store, the metal rattling under the force. In an instant, he spun Mary around, slamming him again and holding him there.

“You got a problem, kid?” he asked, cocky and ready for a fight. Mary struggled against his hold, trying to shove at his arms and kick at his shins.

“Get the fuck off me, man,” he yelled. “You were in the way.” Corbin laughed condescendingly, looking back at Asher who stood there with both of their beers in his hands smirking the whole time.

“This kid thinks he owns the sidewalk, Ash. From what I’ve heard, he belongs in the fucking gutter...” Corbin landed a fist to Mary’s gut, Mary folding up like a ball of paper as he coughed. “Maybe we’ll put him there.”

He dragged Mary by his jacket and threw him to the ground, watching him roll around in pain until he tried to get up. Corbin raised his foot as if he were about to stomp on him, but Mary rolled to the side just in time to avoid it and instead reached out and pulled on his ankle, toppling him to the ground with a loud thud too.

Corbin was older, heavier, but Mary was younger and nimble – quickly he straddled Corbin and started throwing punches, every ounce of anger inside him forcing his fists into Corbin’s face who was yelling at Asher to do something, to stop standing around like a fucking moron and get this ‘little shit’ off him before he ‘beat the crap outta him’.

Before Asher could get close, Mary was being dragged off Corbin by someone else – someone in blue. Before he knew it he was being shoved against the hood of a car, his wrists clamped together in cold metal rings as the cop who’d stumbled on the scene slapped the handcuffs on him. His partner restrained Corbin just the same, slamming him on the other side of the hood.

One of them called for another car, unwilling to shove both Mary and Corbin into the back of the same cop car lest they kill each other on their way to the station, but Mary was thrown in first, and taken in for processing.

“Mary Goore, huh?” was the welcome he got when escorted inside by the Chief, sat behind the processing desk on a late shift. “Was only a matter of time,” he scoffed. Mary’s blood boiled at that. A few minutes later, as Mary was getting processed, another cop rolled in with Corbin in handcuffs. Immediately, Mary tried to lunge towards him, both of them hurling insults at each other while restrained.

“Pembrook, get this kid in a fuckin’ cell to cool off!” the Chief yelled at the officer restraining Mary, who did as instructed and hauled him off to a solitary cell.

“No, no wait! I get a phone call!” Mary said, running back up to the locked door as the officer shut it behind him.

“You’ll get your phone call when you calm down, kid,” the officer shouted back through the door. It was at least another hour before Mary got his phone call...

Not that it did him any good. He tried both his mother’s cell, and their motel phone – no answer. Perhaps he’d fucked up the phone when he smacked it off the side table, but still, his mother wasn’t answering her cell, probably passed out for the night.

Mary was left alone, sat in a solitary cell with fresh bruises and cuts, until the sun had long since risen. He curled up on the bench at the back of the cell, cold and metal and uncomfortable, and barely got a wink of sleep.

“Goore, let’s go,” he heard through the hatch in the door at God knows what time. He rolled over and sat upright, wiping the exhaustion from his face as the officer – a new one, only having just started his shift – opened the cell door. Behind him, was perhaps the only person Mary could really depend on at all.

Forrest.

“You can collect your things from the registration desk. Don’t find yourself back here again, kid. You got lucky, this time...”

Mary just nodded meekly as the officer turned and walked off, the door wide open and Forrest stood there looking at him with an expression of nothing but worry.

“Corbin got out last night, heard you were still in here. Got my parents to pull some strings,” he explained with a shrug. “Shit, Mare, you alright?”

Forrest stepped into the cell and placed his hands on Mary’s shoulders, inspecting him. Mary just nodded again, both too exhausted and too somber to form actual words.

“I’m gonna kick Corbin’s fuckin’ ass for this,” he grumbled. “I’ll set his eyebrows on fire in chem. He’s the worst fuckin’ lab partner anyway.” Mary huffed out a barely-there laugh at that, his shoulders shaking in Forrest’s hands.

Forrest was a senior, like Corbin and Asher. He knew they had a reputation, always getting into shit like this but he never thought he’d see Mary heading down the same path. He was the only one who saw what Mary went through, the work he put in at the workshop, the nights he spent nursing his alcoholic mother. He’d taken him under his wing a little, made him one of the gang and tried to offer him some respite from the slurry of shit he found himself in.

Getting the money from his parents to bail Mary out wasn’t difficult; they threw money at him like it was bird seed on the steps of a cathedral, but it was for that reason he knew loneliness just as much as Mary. On opposite ends of the spectrum financially but somehow, they shared a common ground in just how shitty their relationships with their parents were.

It shouldn’t have been him who got Mary out of here. It didn’t matter to him who started the damn fight or why; Mary had been through enough as it was, and an outburst like this was simply a ticking time bomb. What bothered Forrest more than anything, was knowing it had to be him walking him out of that police station and not the one person Mary loved most in this world, the one who was supposed to love, protect and care for him.

This wasn’t the last time he would collect Mary from a cell; there were more outbursts to come, more frustrations and stupid mistakes but if he had to, Forrest would be there for them all. He’d never abandon this kid who cared so deeply about people and the injustices they would face. Mary could have his rebellious phase, get it out of his system – hell, Forrest certainly did, and he wasn’t sure he was even out of it yet. But he needed someone to lean on, someone to reign him in when he started to go too far.

That night was Mary’s rock bottom, but Forrest jumped down into the pit with him, armed with ropes and twigs, ready to build a ladder to get them both out.

You were pacing outside the convenience store, desperately calling Forrest with your groceries in one hand, cell phone pressed tightly to your ear in the other. He didn’t pick up the first time, probably ignoring a number he didn’t know but you were getting more and more desperate. The second time you dialled, he picked up after a few rings.

“Yello?” he answered, chipper and riding off the high of a show well played.

“Forrest?! Oh my god, thank fuck for that. Listen, it’s me... Mary gave me your number,” you rushed out, barely intelligible at the speed you spoke.

“Duchess?” he questioned, using the nickname the boys had seemed to settle on when they realised you weren’t going to castrate Jed for creating it. “What’s goin’ on?”

“Mary’s... I don’t know, he said to call you! I’m at the store, he told me not to come back. Something’s wrong, Forrest... He said it wasn’t safe?” you panicked.

“Shit...” he muttered. You heard scrambling on the end of the line, like he was getting up and grabbing a few things around him and stuffing them into a backpack. “Listen to me, you don’t go back to that apartment, okay? I’ll be there soon, one of us will call you when it’s safe. Just stay there.”

“Forrest what’s going on?” Your voice had raised an octave in pitch, your cheeks burning from holding back tears.

“Those guys at the bar... They know him, they’ve hated him for years and they threatened him. He just needs some back up, it’ll be alright. Just stay, okay? Promise me.”

You wanted to promise that, but how could you stay there and not try to help Mary? If those guys had turned up at his apartment, he was outnumbered and if nothing else you could act as a distraction. You stayed quiet for a beat too long, and Forrest stopped rustling about his apartment needing to hear confirmation. He couldn’t be worrying about you too when his best friend was in danger.

“Duchess?” he yelled into the phone.

“Y-yeah, yeah... Sorry. I’ll stay,” you told him, still unsure if you were telling the truth.

“Good, just wait for the call. He’ll be fine,” he assured, but the panic in his voice betrayed him too. He hung up without another word, leaving you stood in the street in the early hours of the morning, absolutely petrified for your boyfriend...

Could you really stay put when he was just a few blocks away? When there was potentially something you could do to help him? You supposed you’d just have to...

The door creaked as it slowly swung open, betraying Mary right from the start. If someone was in his apartment still, they’d have heard that... No doubt about it. And so, his grip on the swiss army knife tightened, and the steps he took became slower, steadier so he’d be able to plant his feet should he be ambushed.

Stepping into his apartment, it was still dark. No lights had been turned on, just the orange glow from the street lamps outside streaming in through the windows. He listened out for any sign of movement, but nothing. To his left, nobody in the kitchen... But things were out of place, to put it lightly. Drawers hung open, cupboard doors almost ripped from their hinges. Cutlery, food and crockery lay strewn about the floor and countertops, like it had been ransacked.

Mary proceeded with caution, noticing that the floor of his apartment was covered in his things... Records, clothes, blankets and pillows; even his tatty little guitar was on the ground in the middle of the floor, the neck broken and strings snapped. He wasn’t sure whether to feel rage or despair, but both hit him like a freight train.

Slowly, he stepped a little further to peer around the corner that led to the bedroom and bathroom to his right, and then to his left, around the partition between the kitchen and living space. That’s when he noticed.

A figure, sat on his couch with their back to him. He knew who it was immediately.

Mary planted his feet, readjusting his grip on the blade in his hand. He was preparing himself for any sudden movement, every single one of his senses heightened. Should he be ambushed from another direction, he was ready.

“Where is she?” The shadow asked, their voice low and eerily calm. Mary stood his ground; he was in no mood for games.

“What are you doing in my apartment?” he asked, ignoring their question. The figure straightened up where they sat, no longer hunching forwards as they studied something on the coffee table. They took a deep breath, before answering with another question.

“Where... is my daughter?” The shadow turned their head towards where Mary stood, between the outer wall of his bathroom and the entryway to his kitchen. The street lighting gave just enough of itself to illuminate the stark features of the man in front of him, the hardened glare pointed his way.

The Mayor.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Mary lied, without much conviction at all but he already knew there was no point. But he wasn’t giving him any information. He could go fuck himself.

The Mayor cracked a grin; a sadistic little grin, as if he were some kind of comic book villain spoiling for a fight. “Now I know that ain’t true, so you’re gonna tell me where she is, I’m gonna go get her, and I’m gonna deal with you later.”

“I don't know where she is,” Mary spat, his resentment and hatred for this snake barely contained.

The Mayor sighed dramatically, slapping his hands to his knees and standing up. He turned towards Mary then, folding his arms across his chest. His shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, top button undone now he was technically off the clock. But he still wore his expensive suit, save for tie and blazer, as if it would intimidate Mary somehow.

“Should have expected this from you, Mary,” he chuckled, “Defiance. Attitude. Even coming in here with a damn weapon.” He nodded towards the swiss army knife in Mary’s ever tightening grip.

“Someone broke into my apartment. Gotta defend myself,” he stated plainly.

“Nah,” the Mayor scoffed, “it was only a matter of time before you got yourself in trouble again. Cops of this town were always too good to you, lettin’ you off too easy.”

As if Mary had ever done anything to hurt anybody... Sure he’d been picked up a handful of times for graffiti, or destruction of public property, that one fight with Corbin and Asher – which technically, he didn’t start... But Mary stayed quiet, staring at the threat in front of him just waiting for him to try something.

“You know,” he started, turning back to the coffee table, “maybe I’m forgetting my manners, huh? Maybe we should catch up first?” He bent down, picking something up from the table and turning back. In his hands, was the photo frame Mary kept on his windowsill...

The Mayor looked down at it, studying it with a smirk. “She always was a looker, huh? How’s she doing these days?”

Mary saw red, desperately fighting every instinct in his body that wanted nothing more than to tear into this vile man, rip him limb from limb and cast him to the wolves. His already injured knuckles turned white, the wounds splitting back open as his fists balled up tighter, the handle of the blade in his right hand digging painfully into his palm. But he stayed grounded. He would not make the first move.

“Get the fuck outta my apartment,” Mary warned. The Mayor was testing his patience, and it had already snapped once tonight.

“I’m not leaving until you tell me where my daughter is.” His smirk dropped, along with the frame in his hands. He disregarded it without a care in the world, letting the glass crack as it hit the ground with a thud. Mary winced at the sound.

“Wouldn’t tell you if I knew,” he lied. He was adamant he would never tell him where you were, never give you up if he beat him into a pile of broken bones. You’d been free of him for less than a week, but already you’d come out of your shell so much, found yourself. How could he ever put you back in the box they’d kept you in all those years?

“Do you think you’re good for my daughter, hm?” the Mayor took a step closer, “You think she’d want someone like you?”

Mary ignored him. He had to. This was just a manipulation tactic, something to throw him off and degrade him like everybody always had.

“You’re the scum of this town, Goore. Everybody knows it.” He stepped closer again, circling Mary with slow and calculated steps like a panther on the hunt. “You, and your drunken whore of a mother, your deadbeat father... You were fucking destined for the gutter.”

Mary watched him as he came to stand in front of him again, just a little taller than Mary but puffing his chest out as if to intimidate him. Mary stayed painfully still, grinding his teeth in rage. One wrong move, he was poised and ready to defend himself.

“You think you know me... You don’t know shit,” he taunted, “But I know you...”

“Oh-ho-ho," the Mayor laughed, “You do, do you? This should be good.”

“Yeah... I know you’re a filthy letch who takes everything from good, honest people and lines his pockets with it.” Mary was getting cocky now, arching his eyebrow and tilting his chin up in defiance as a sadistic little smile crossed his split lip. “I know you used to be a good guy, once upon a time. Beautiful family, on top of the world...”

The Mayor barely reacted, pushing his tongue into his cheek and looking down at Mary with the same arrogance he always exuded.

“I know you trapped your perfect little wife up in your ivory fuckin’ tower while you flashed your shit about town like a damn Kennedy brother...”

The Mayor’s eyes darkened. Now Mary was getting to him.

“I know you trained your precious little girl like a damn puppy her whole life, only to have her grow up to resent every little fuckin’ thing about you...”

Mary was about to cross a line. He was about to say something just to get a rise out of him, just to make him snap. He’d never talk about you like this and mean it, but for all the pain and misery this man had caused people through the years, he deserved something that cut him to the bone.

“You repelled her so much that she crawled out of her pink, frilly cage... and spread her fuckin’ legs to the town scum...” Mary laughed, smug and satisfied when he saw the way the Mayor’s hands tightened around his biceps, his nose wrinkling in disgust.

Mary took a step closer to him – a stupid move, but he was oozing cockiness, no longer thinking clearly and only wanting to cause as much fucking damage to this prick’s ego as he damn well could. He knew it would turn his stomach to know his daughter was friends with Mary, let alone willingly fucking him.

Mary looked the Mayor up and down, smirking with barely contained glee as he leaned into him to deliver the final blow.

“She calls me daddy now...” he whispered, staring directly into his eyes with an impish sparkle in his own.

The Mayor’s eyes raked over Mary, sizing him up, looking him up and down while he chewed on his cheek, the disgust on his face twisting and morphing into a vile expression of hatred. Before Mary knew what was happening, the blade in his fist was knocked clear across the room, his balance thrown off as two large hands wrapped around his throat. He was spun around and pushed backwards into the small kitchen space, tripping over the mess left there as he tried desperately to fight the power of the much older, much bigger man attacking him.

Soon enough his lower back was being slammed into the edge of a counter, the thumbs of the hands around his throat pressing down on his airways while Mary did what he could to fight back, clawing and scratching at the Mayor.

It was getting harder and harder to breathe, spots starting to flicker across his vision as that murderous glare stared back at him. The thought briefly crossed Mary’s mind that he might not stop... Once he was rendered unconscious, there was nothing to stop him from taking the life he’d worked so hard to rebuild over and over again away from him. Just as he’d found a semblance of happiness, too... The Mayor was going to take it all away from him. Again.

The Mayor’s grip adjusted to just one hand tightening around his throat, the other pulling back and coming crashing down on Mary’s cheek with a blow that reopened old wounds of the evening. Mary was going to lose this fight, there was no contest. Blow after blow landed to his face as the Mayor squeezed the life out of him...

“Daddy!”

The Mayor snapped out of his trance, his head whipping behind him with his fist pulled back in preparation for another strike, the other still choking Mary. You looked on in pure horror at what you’d walked into... You had expected to come back to a dangerous situation, but not one that included the attempted murder of your boyfriend at the hands of your own father.

With the Mayor’s attention on you, however brief, Mary took advantage and lifted his foot to push at the Mayor’s hip quickly, twisting him just enough that he lost his grip on him, and Mary fell to the floor in a heap, coughing and spluttering as the oxygen rushed back into his lungs. It was all too much all at once, the sudden rush of blood back to his head and the pain of the punches hitting him at the same time and he rolled and writhed on the floor as he tried to regain control of his body. But the spasms continued, and he could barely see nor hear anything while he squirmed at the Mayor’s feet.

You rushed into the kitchen, attempting to bypass your father and to immediately help Mary but you were stopped, a hand wrapped tightly around your bicep and attempting to drag you away. Of course, you fought back, smacking at your father’s chest and kicking at him as if it would help.

“Let go! Get the fuck off of me! GET OFF!” you screamed over and over, hoping someone might hear from another apartment and come to your aid.

“You forget your place, girl,” your father snarled, barely affected by you beating at him. You managed to wrench your arm free of his grip and take a step back, your father’s attention on you and you alone while Mary still coughed on the floor, almost vomiting with the way his chest heaved.

“If you think it’s with you, you’re sorely fucking mistaken,” you growled. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Teaching this little fucker a lesson in manners,” he spat, pointing down at Mary who spat a glob of red tinted spit to the floor – a biproduct of the hits to the face he had taken. He’d regained enough composure to sit himself upright against the cupboard, letting his head hit the wood as he glared up at your father, chest still heaving.

Only now did your father take a good look at you, seeing how different you looked in a short denim skirt, a fishnet top, the make-up you’d chosen to wear over what you had always been told to. Once again, his expression clouded into disgust.

“What has he done to you?” he asked, looking you up and down.

“Him? You think I’d jump from a life where I’m controlled by a man into another one?” you shrieked. Your father pretended not to hear you, instead leaning down to quickly grab Mary by his shirt and heave him to his feet, holding him against the cabinets again. Mary didn’t fight back; he couldn’t. He was still in too much pain, his body not responding to his commands.

“You take my daughter from me, and dress her up like one of your scummy little whores?” he screamed into Mary’s face while all he could do was wince and squeeze his eyes shut, trying to steady the swimming sensation in his head.

You rushed towards them, pushing at your father until you could weave yourself between the two of them. Mary barely kept himself upright against the counter, but you reached a hand behind you anyway, securing it in his and holding it tightly against your back.

“Don’t you fucking touch him,” you warned.

“You wanna protect this little shit? Why? You think you love him?” your father mocked, scoffing at the mere thought of it. “I couldn’t quite believe it when I finally got it out of your mother... As soon as she told me she saw you get into a shitty black van, I fucking knew... I thought ‘no, no way my little girl is that fucking stupid’. Of all the decent guys in this town, you choose this?”

The anger you felt as he berated you, insulting not only Mary but you and your intelligence too... You had no time to be angry at your mother, knowing what your father was like and how he could manipulate anybody to get what he wanted out of them. All of your energy was directed into protecting Mary, standing between him and your father and proving to them both you weren’t backing down. Gone were the days of obeying and staying in your lane. If Mary had taught you anything in your short time together, it was that you could be yourself and stand up for what you believe in unapologetically. And you believed in Mary...

“He’s a better man than you give him credit for,” you seethed, squeezing his hand behind your back. Your father laughed maniacally at you, throwing his head back and pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Really? This little shit? If you think he’s any good for you, you’re dumber than I ever imagined. You come from a good, respectable family. This whole fucking town knows me, loves me, and all I ever did was give you everything you ever wanted on a silver platter... But you throw it back in my face?” he argued, throwing his hands around as he yelled. But you stood your ground. “You know where he comes from, right? Deadbeat fucking dad who drank and gambled his money away. A whore of a mother who also drank herself into a permanent hospital bed?”

“You’d... know all about that, w-wouldn't you?” Mary struggled to speak through laboured breaths from behind you, hunched over but pushing up on the counter to stand upright.

Your father’s head snapped back to glare at Mary. “Excuse me?”

You felt a change in the air, notably in your father’s demeanour. His eyes had widened, and he seemed to freeze in place, waiting for Mary to speak again while he caught his breath and used his strength to stand properly behind you. He kept hold of your hand, squeezing it tightly but once he stood up, he used his free hand to steady himself on your waist; both protectively and for stability.

“You... you think you have a right to judge... my mother? After what you did?” he asked rhetorically, which only confused you. Your brow creased and you turned your head to look back at Mary.

“What are you talking about?” you asked softly, trying to make sense of what he was saying. He tore his eyes from your father to glance at you, offering you a look of apology laced with fear as if he were apologising for what you were about to hear... When he looked back at your father, your eyes followed to see that same wide-eyed expression. “What did you do?”

“You gonna tell her, or should I?” Mary’s voice was a warning, but still, your father remained silent. If he wasn’t going to tell you what the hell was going on, you’d just let Mary. Someone needed to say something, and quickly, before you lost your cool again.

“Tell me,” you ordered them both, but still you directed your glare at your father.

“Yeah why don’t we tell her, hm?” Mary’s voice had grown a little stronger, recovered from the hands that had squeezed his neck for almost too long. Adrenaline was kicking in, numbing the pain in his head from the beatings and giving him the strength to get angry, to challenge the Grand High Mayor.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he defied. Mary just scoffed.

“You tricked my mother, and took everything from her...” he spat. You looked back at Mary, confused and shocked. Your father just stood in silence, glaring.

“How?” you asked, “Tell me everything. Now.”

“You won’t like this...” he warned, never breaking eye contact to look at you.

“I don’t fucking care, Mary. Tell me.”

He took a moment, forcing a steadying breath to calm the rising nerves. He’d never wanted you to hear this, fearing it might just devastate you to know who exactly your father was, the kind of man he could be, and what he was capable of. You hadn’t needed to find this out, but this had all gone too far. He wanted nothing more than to pull the rug from under the Mayor’s feet, to make sure he knew that Mary knew everything, that he needed to be very fucking careful this secret never got out. Mary had him in checkmate, holding the secret in until someone came along who would hear him and believe him – someone with a higher standing in the town than himself and his friends.

“My mom got clean when I was 15,” he began, “She’d stopped drinking, got herself a job that could keep us going while I was in school, and still working for Mr. Rogers on the weekends. We were living out in the Oak Ridge apartment complexes, and we were doing alright.”

“Then in came a man in a dapper suit with a briefcase and a fuckin’ God complex, who convinced the landlords to sell up so he could flatten the building and build office blocks instead. He fucked over all the residents, all hard-working people, by flashing compensation to the landlords who just handed out eviction notices. But my mom owned our shitty little apartment outright. She’d just managed to club together the money for the deposit, to get herself a mortgage and have a place that was just ours. She wanted stability, and she didn’t want to sell up. She was the last one who refused...”

Your father’s eye twitched as he readjusted his stance, like suddenly he was incredibly uncomfortable. “You don’t actually believe this fucking scumbag, do you?” he asked you, interrupting Mary.

“Shut the fuck up,” you snapped, and miraculously, he did just that.

“So he... He charmed her. He bought her pretty things, took her to fancy places out of town, told her everything she’d ever wanted to hear... He told her he loved her,” Mary’s voice cracked at that, at the hurt of somebody lying to his mother when that had been all she’d ever wanted, “He seduced her, and told her he’d run away with her and give her the life she’d always wanted with him... if she’d just... sign on the dotted line...”

You felt sick to your stomach. Not only had he taken advantage of Mary’s mom, their situation, all for his own gain, but he’d cheated on your mother, gone behind his own family’s back to manipulate a damaged but healing woman and ruin her life. Your head span with overwhelm, purely disgusted by what you were hearing. You knew your father wasn’t a good man, but you had no idea he was such a monster...

“When she signed the deed over, he dropped her and left us both on the streets. He left us with nothing; no money, no home. We had to move into the Quartz motel, and she was heartbroken. She started drinking again, more and more because of what YOU did,” Mary snarled at him, pointing his finger as he raised his voice. “She was too depressed to get back up again, and I had to pick up the pieces. I had to quit school, work full time and give everything up when I was fucking 16 years old just to keep us afloat. She never recovered, and it didn’t matter when I got us this shitty little apartment and finally moved us outta the Quartz, her body gave up.”

Mary pushed you to one side in his rage and stepped up to your father. You stumbled and caught yourself on the counter, too stunned to do or say anything about it as the truth sunk in. Mary got in his face again, pointing his finger directly at him and screamed, “It’s because of YOU she almost fuckin’ DIED. You piece of SHIT! YOU AS GOOD AS KILLED HER!” Mary slapped his hand against your father’s chest, who just stood there and took it, glaring at Mary as if he were still that same kid.

You shook yourself from your own little trance and pulled Mary back to you by his arm, turning your back on your father and holding Mary’s cheeks to soothe him, to calm him down as he broke down at the truth. Mary stood there and sobbed, letting you wipe the tears as you shushed him, whispering apologies to him as if any of this had been your fault. But your heart broke for him...

How could your father have ever been that callous? You thought you’d known him, that he wasn’t anywhere near as bad as it seemed he was. You were aware he leaned more towards right wing politics, and no, you didn’t agree with him. And you’d known some of his associates were bent and unethical in their ways, but you’d never known he was as corrupt as Mary was telling you. All those whiffs of under the table deals you’d gotten over the years were true. He was a crook... A liar, a cheat, and abusive fucking monster.

“You don’t seriously believe this shit, Pumpkin?” he asked, using a damn pet name of all things to try and get you back on side. You span around to glower at him, rage bubbling up inside you.

“Don’t you fucking ‘Pumpkin’ me, you arrogant letch!” you screamed. “That explains why you kept disappearing all the damn time, spending your evenings and weekends anywhere but at home. I guess now I fucking know where you went... You missed half of my sweet sixteen, for fuck’s sake! Sped off right after the cake and didn’t come home for two days. Is that where you went? Is that where you always went? To take advantage of a decent woman who only wanted to be loved? To give her kid the BEST FUCKING LIFE POSSIBLE!?”

“I never went anywhere near his slut of a mother!” he yelled back.

“Oh, please!” Mary interjected, “You fucked her, and then you fucked her over.”

“You LIAR!” Your father lunged at Mary again but you stopped him, forcing him back with a push that took all of your strength, all of your anger. He didn’t try it again, instead focussing his anger on you now.

“You gonna let him manipulate you like this? Lie to you? He’s just trying to come between us, Pumpkin, to keep you away from me. He'll fucking use you and dump you for the next girl who shows him any attention. You’re just some petty fucking revenge he’s taking out on me... He’s USING YOU!”

“Sounds more like something you’d do...” you growled at him. You had made your choice already, long before tonight. Your place was at Mary’s side, now more so than ever. Fucking revenge. As if Mary would have lied to you all this time... There was no way?

Your father straightened himself up, dusting his shirt off as if there were something on it, but it gave him a moment to collect himself, to make himself seem the prim and proper one.

“If you choose to believe his lies and stay with him, then that’s your stupid choice,” he told you as he straightened the cuffs of his shirt sleeves, not even affording you the decency of eye contact. “But know this; you choose him, and that’s it. You will have nothing. No money, no home, no future. I’ll make sure neither of you work in this town. I will cut you off completely.”

He thought he had the upper hand, that his words would scare you into submission and force you to come home with him. He seemed to forget the heated words you’d exchanged the night of the dinner at the Town Hall...

“I thought I’d made myself pretty clear last time we spoke... I don’t want to live under your fucking thumb anymore. You told me to leave once before, and what, now you’ve changed your mind? You want to play happy families, and drag me back into the life you forced me to live? I want my own life, and now? I want it as far away from you as I can possibly get.”

Your father stared at you, his jaw grinding in anger. He’d lost control of you, and he hated it. You were unravelling his perfect ‘family man’ façade that had won him all those elections, tearing down the perception the town had of him as this kind, caring man with a beautiful family.

As you glared at each other, challenging the other to speak first, heavy footsteps got closer as if someone were running down the hallway outside the apartment and soon, Forrest ran into the apartment clutching a baseball bat and ready to swing. He stopped short at the scene in front of him, not having expected this at all... Mary, beaten and bloodied behind you, squaring up to your father, the Mayor...

Forrest knew everything and quickly connected the dots, keeping the bat raised and ready in case your father tried anything at all. But now he was outnumbered, and his pride wounded.

“You’re making a big fucking mistake, madam,” he warned. “You’ll end up a low life like these idiots, and laying in a hospital bed just like his mother.”

“You need to leave,” Forrest told him firmly. “You got another witness now, sir,” he warned, sarcasm dripping from the honorific.

Your father straightened up and turned, taking a few steps to stand at the edge of the kitchen where Forrest backed up to give him the room to leave, bat still raised. Just as he was about to leave, he turned back to see you reach for Mary’s hand, holding his cheek gently in yours as you took a good look at the bruises and blood that covered his face.

“You should get out of town before morning,” he began. “I will pull every string at my disposal to make sure you will never find peace here. This is my town, and this?” he waved his finger around, “is a dangerous neighbourhood. Especially without a deadbolt.” He nodded towards the front door that he’d bust open.

“Get out,” Forrest reiterated with a look that could have burst him into flames if he had the ability.

Without another word, your father turned and left, slamming the front door that only bounced back open with nothing left to catch.

Forrest lowered the bat with a sigh, rubbing at his forehead from the stress. You focussed all of your attention on Mary, checking he was okay. He certainly wasn’t... He’d taken two beatings in one night and was covered in a litany of injuries that needed attention.

Without saying a word, Forrest dropped the bat on the floor with a clatter and rushed into the bathroom, pulling out an old first aid kid from under Mary’s sink and rushing back with it while you gently guided an exhausted Mary to his couch, forcing him to sit back.

As you patched him up with band aids and gauze and fed him a glass of water, no one dared to speak another word. After everything that had happened tonight, the silence – however brief – was welcome. But eventually, one of you had to break it.

“We should get you to a hospital, Mare. You might have a concussion, or a bust nose or something’,” Forrest reasoned. Mary shook his head.

“I’ll be good, don’t think anything’s broken.” Neither you nor Forrest argued with him. “Fuck, what the hell are we gonna do?” he asked, sinking further down into the couch beside where you knelt on the cushion, hovering over him.

“He’s just trying to scare you both, right? He’s pissed, just wants you both out but what the fuck can he really do?” Forrest asked from the floor, where he’d picked up the broken picture of Mary and his mom and set it on the coffee table. Mary stared at it, biting back the sting of tears.

“Anything... he can do anything. He’ll make good on his threat, his security don’t ask questions.” You chewed on your thumbnail anxiously, trying to think of your next move.

“I’m sorry...” Mary mumbled, looking down at the picture on the table with shame in his eyes.

“For what?” you asked, shuffling closer to him and gently turning his chin towards you, “What could you possibly be sorry for?”

“He’s cut you off because of me,” he sniffled, keeping the tears in his eyes at bay. “I’ve fucked your life up for you already...”

“Don’t you dare,” you told him firmly, “you listen to me. I chose this, I needed to get away from him and I did. This is a blessing, we’ll be okay-”

“How the hell are we gonna be okay? We can’t stay here anymore, we got nowhere to go and the money I make at the shop isn’t gonna keep us both afloat for long...” he panicked, but you hushed him with a finger to his lips.

“We’ll figure it out. Money’s not a problem...” Mary looked confused, as did Forrest, the pair of them staring at you. “I’ve... I’ve been saving. Funnelling money away for a while. I knew someday I’d wanna get out and well... I opened a bank account as soon as I was old enough and just kept throwing my allowance into it. I got a trust fund when I was 18, he thinks I spent it. I didn’t, it’s been stashed away for years. We can get a place Mary, we just need somewhere for now.”

Mary blinked at you dumbly, “You... You want that?”

“What, to run away with you? Are you kidding?” You ran your fingers through his hair, avoiding the long strands that were clumped together with dried blood. “Haven’t I already done that?” you asked with a soft smile.

Mary gawked at you, smiling a little himself before he leaned closer to you and planted his bust lips onto yours in a sweet, lingering kiss. Forrest coughed from the floor, bringing the two of you back to reality.

“That’s great and all, but... where the hell are you gonna go for now?” he asked. Mary processed his question for a second, thinking it over.

“Well, it’s not exactly a ‘best case scenario’, but... I have an air mattress back at the shop? It’s just a storage unit but it’s outta town. Sometimes I’d work late and be too tired to drive home so I’d crash there. No one really knows where it is, I never have clients come to the unit.”

“It’ll do, while we look for a place in the city,” you told him. You didn’t care where you stayed or what you slept on, as long as it was safe – as long as Mary was safe.

Forrest nodded, getting up from the floor and starting to gather some of the mess from your father’s rage. “Better get a move on then... Grab what you need, I’ll help you move it in my van too.”

Before either of you stood up, Mary sat upright and turned to face you. “You sure about this, doll? Like... really? I can’t expect you to use that money to set us both up.”

“Oh, shut up...” you smirked, swatting his shoulder lightly. “You really having second thoughts about taking my dear daddy’s money and running off into the night?”

Mary’s eyes glinted with a mischievous sparkle, and his lips curved into a smirk. “Well, when you put it like that...” He leaned in as you giggled, welcoming another slow, tender kiss that felt like a triumphant win given the events of the night.

From across the room, Forrest rolled his eyes, picking up a small pillow and throwing it at the both of you to break you up. When you both yelped and looked up at him, he simply widened his eyes and shook his head, tapping at an imaginary watch on his wrist as if to say ‘hello? Get moving!”. You stood from the couch, reaching your hands out to Mary who used your strength as leverage to sit upright, his whole body aching and protesting after all the damn fighting tonight. Forrest was, of course, right. You needed to pack up what you could quickly, and get the hell out of town.

So much had happened tonight, and so much had been said that couldn’t remain just a fleeting exchange in the heat of the moment. Revelations of the kind of man your father truly was had to be put to the back of your mind for now, to be dealt with and talked properly about in the coming days. For now, you couldn’t focus on it - the wound too painful to acknowledge until you were out of harm’s way. You couldn’t think about the truth, or what that meant in terms of your relationship with Mary. The thought that perhaps you were just Mary’s retribution couldn’t take root in your mind, lest it grow into genuine suspicion. There was no time to let doubts creep in. Instead, you dove into packing with Forrest, shoving clothes and essentials in whatever bags or boxes you could find to busy your mind.

But Mary; he stayed put, fiddling anxiously with his rings. Neither you nor Forrest questioned him, figuring after two pretty rough beatings tonight he could sit this one out. But it wasn’t that that held him back...

His own doubts were seeping in, an anxiety burning in his chest. He’d unveiled a huge part of himself tonight, something he’d never intended for you to know. He’d never wanted to hurt you with this and now that he had, he had to force down the guilt that came when he’d seen the look on your face as the truth spilled. His disdain for the Mayor hadn’t ever been as simple as hating the face of the town that hated him. There was so much more to it than that, but he’d never wanted to make that your burden.

Part of him now was terrified. The thought had crossed his mind that perhaps – maybe not now, maybe not for a while, but someday – you might think he chose you for this, like some sick revenge on the Mayor. Even he had accused Mary of it, claiming he was using you... Taking his only daughter and defiling her, corrupting her just to get his own back. That night back in the dive bar had started as a bet, yes. The thought had indeed crossed his mind that it was ironic he’d got to fuck you after your father had fucked over his family. But you were so much more than that...

He was in too deep now. He loved you. Now more than ever, he was afraid he might lose you over this. He prayed that you didn’t think that, that your father’s own accusation had fallen on deaf ears.

But for now, he just needed to get you both out of town. As long as you were safe, he’d take whatever consequences came his way.

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | PART 6 | PART 7 | PART 8 ALSO AVAILABLE ON AO3 | MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

#mary goore fanfiction #mary goore fanfic #mary goore x reader #mary goore #repugnant fan fiction #repugnant fanfiction #repugnant #repugnant band #ghost bc #the band ghost fanfic #the band ghost #ghost band #ghost #ghost the band #mary goore smut

151 notes · View notes

pastafossa · 2 months ago

Text

🌊TUNA-TOBER🌊 PROMPT CHALLENGE 2024 🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟

Hello friends! So last month I realized that one of the reasons I'm struggling to get my writing back up to my old speed is I am seriously out of practice since Dec/Jan when shit went down and I stopped writing for a while. After some thought, I decided I was gonna set up a little prompt challenge for myself, just a general, 'here's a prompt a day' thing for about a month. And I tossed this idea out onto my fave Daredevil discord server to see if anyone would want to join. And I'm happy to say there were takers, including some of my favorite writers in the fandom! So I've set up a delicious prompt challenge for all of us, and for anyone else who wants to take part.

For each day in October, there are three prompts: an 🌧️angst/whump prompt🌧️, a 🌻fluff prompt🌻, and a 🔥kink prompt🔥. Participants are free to choose which one of the prompts they want to write or make art of, or they can try to incorporate two, or even all three prompts into a single fic or art piece. They can write a short fic/make art every day, or just on whichever days they feel like (personally I'm going to shoot for one fic a day, but we'll see), or even incorporate those prompts into the chapters of longer fics. There are also four 'backup' prompt options for each category in case anyone hits a day or prompt where they aren't really feeling what's available on the chosen day. If any of these prompts inspire you, you can feel free to take on the Tuna-Tober challenge even if you're not in the server! This challenge is also not fandom-specific (although I have a feeling I'm mostly gonna write Charlie Cox characters, a surprise to precisely zero people, but again, we'll see).

Sometime this week, I'll be setting up a sideblog specifically for Tuna-Tober. That sideblog blog will reblog any Tuna-Tober fics/art or link to those fics that are posted on Ao3 so they'll all be easy to find. That blog will also have instructions for how to tag your Tuna-Tober fics and/or art pieces. If you'd like to be notified when that sideblog is up so you can follow it, let me know in the comments.

Without further ado: our Tuna-Tober prompts!

🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟

Day 1: Falling Asleep In A Hospital Room ⚜ Reading To Each Other ⚜ Somnophilia

Day 2: “Why? Why do you love me?” ⚜ Flower Crowns ⚜ Mutual Masturbation

Day 3: Broken ⚜ “I feel real when i’m with you.” ⚜ Role Reversal

Day 4: “This isn’t you.” ⚜ “Are you blushing?” ⚜ Sixty-Nine

Day 5: Self-Loathing ⚜ Watergun Fight ⚜ Begging

Day 6: "Shh, I've got you now. I'm here." ⚜ Love Bites ⚜ “Spread your legs for me.”

Day 7: Nightmare ⚜ Honest Apology ⚜ Nothing Underneath

Day 8: Shaking ⚜ “You can sleep here tonight.” ⚜ Overstimulation

Day 9: Anxiety ⚜ “You don’t need to do that.” “I want to.” ⚜ “Open your mouth.”

Day 10: "I'm not good enough." ⚜ A Hug That Lasts A Little Too Long ⚜ Strap-on/Pegging

Day 11: Tears ⚜ “I’d be lost without you.” ⚜ Breast Worship

Day 12: "I did it for you.” ⚜ “You remembered?” ⚜ Deep-Throating

Day 13: Loneliness ⚜ Playful Kiss ⚜ “Beg me for it.”

Day 14: "Please look at me." ⚜ Sleep Talking ⚜ Accidental Stimulation

Day 15: Hiding An Injury ⚜ “Are you jealous?” ⚜ Threesome

Day 16: Exhaustion ⚜ Accidental Kiss ⚜ Against A Window

Day 17: "I'm not leaving you." ⚜ Tickling ⚜ “Touch yourself for me.”

Day 18: Scars ⚜ Pillow Fort ⚜ “I’m so proud of you, you’re taking me so well.”

Day 19: Touch starved ⚜ “I’ll always be there for you.” ⚜ Gags

Day 20: "Who did this to you?" ⚜ There Was Only One Bed ⚜ “You were made for me, weren’t you?”

Day 21: Fainting/Collapsing ⚜ Flustered ⚜ “Was that an order?”

Day 22: "You haven't done anything wrong." ⚜ Breathless Kiss ⚜ Aphrodisiacs

Day 23: Father ⚜ “If you won’t take care of yourself, I will.” ⚜ Toys

Day 24: Drugged ⚜ Drunken Confession ⚜ “Shh, do you want them to hear us?”

Day 25: "What's Wrong?" ⚜ Playing With Their Hair ⚜ “Did I say you could do that?”

Day 26: "You're not fine." ⚜ “Shut up and kiss me.” ⚜ Under The Desk

Day 27: Near Death Experience ⚜ Overheard Confession ⚜ “Let me see what that pretty mouth can do.”

Day 28: Chronic Pain ⚜ Sharing An Umbrella ⚜ Hair Pulling

Day 29: "Talk to me, please." ⚜ Forehead Kiss ⚜ Restraints

Day 30: Healing ⚜ Road Trip ⚜ “Take it off. Slowly.”

Day 31: "Why wasn't I enough?" ⚜ Blanket Hog ⚜ Stockings/Thigh Highs

🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟

🌊Tuna-Tober🌊 Backup Prompts:

Bound/Chained ⚜ Moving In Together ⚜ Almost Getting Caught

"Take me instead." ⚜ “I’m in love with you, and that scares me.” ⚜ High Heels

Insomnia ⚜ Adopting A Pet ⚜ Scent Marking

"You're not alone." ⚜ Playing A Game Together ⚜ Ass Worship

🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟

#Tuna-Tober Prompt Challenge 2024 #Tuna-Tober #Prompt List #Promptober #I am going to have FUN WITH THIS #and i think the other writers and artists will too!#i really do just need a prompt sprint to kinda get my brain back in gear and i've had luck with this in the past #fic #fanfic #also knowing me it'll mostly be charlie cox characters but we'll see who else pops up #spawned because i always struggle choosing between kinktober and flufftober and whumptober #like what if i want a chance to do all of those in one month #although now my hardest part of the challenge might be choosing which to do when i like ALL the prompts of the day #but they don't all work in a single drabble fic #WHO KNOWS. LET'S DO THIS. I AM READY FOR OCTOBER

105 notes · View notes

badperson-8 · 10 months ago

Text

Butting In (Part 1) Lucifer, Mammon, Levi

Male/AMAB MC finds an intriguing sex toy – a magical fleshlight, which is automatically connected to the body of whoever haunts their sexual fantasies. How will each brother react if MC succumbs to the temptation and uses the device?

amabMC x Lucifer, amabMC x Mammon, amabMC x Levi

3.5k words | NSFW | Porn without plot | gn!pronouns MC | AO3 link

Content Warnings: Dub-con | Anal Sex

Part 2 (Satan, Asmo) Part 3 (Beel, Belphie) Part 4 (Diavolo)

Lucifer

Lucifer sighs heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose and squeezing his eyes shut. He’s been sent to the House of Lords on behalf of Lord Diavolo for a brief check of their quarterly financial report. But what should’ve taken him at most two hours, stretched into several-hours torture, due to the incompetence of these noble fools. The accounting department did their best to analyze and categorize all the expenses, but Lords were so utterly incapable of providing any reasonable data in time that the finished report turned out to be an incoherent mess.

So now Lucifer is stuck in a place full of insufferable snobs, damned to do their job instead of them. At least the most excruciating part is over: he had to personally collect all the additional papers from each Lord, and now he only needs to compare the numbers. The demon has already sent all the accountants away; if they didn’t succeed the first time, it’s highly unlikely that they’ll be of any use. Lucifer prefers to work alone anyway.

The only two things that motivate him right now are a huge cup of the strongest coffee ever known to demons and potential revenge. If Lucifer manages to find any traces of financial machinations, Lord Diavolo will take this matter into his own hands. And when he’s on the case, it’s useless to hide behind the high status of a noble. The Future King deals with problems swiftly and mercilessly.

Lucifer smirks, takes a sip of coffee, and focuses on the documents in his hands. The demon occupied the office of one of the Lords after he unceremoniously kicked out the owner. The room has too many golden decorations for Lucifer’s liking, but at least the chair is comfortable enough. The soft rustle of papers and the rhythmical ticking of the clock help him concentrate and ignore intrusive thoughts about one particular human who waits for him at home… Perhaps there are actually three things that motivate Lucifer right now, but his pride will never let him admit it.

A sudden shiver runs along Lucifer’s body, making him twitch and almost spill all the coffee on the documents. The demon immediately lets go of the cup and straightens up, trying to figure out what the hell happened. But Lucifer doesn’t spot anything unusual, only the same ticking of the clock breaks the silence of an empty room.

The second shiver strikes him just as suddenly. This time it’s stronger, it pierces his mind and makes him grab the edge of the table, looking for support. Lucifer feels the ghost touches on his body, which concentrate on his backside. He unconsciously presses his hips against the seat in an attempt to hide his delicate parts from the unknown intruder. But to no avail. The unstoppable force concentrates on his most vulnerable part of the body, pressing inside and massaging the tensed walls of his entrance.

Lucifer bites his lower lip, trying to contain all the embarrassing noises deep within; a thin stream of blood runs down his chin and lands on one of the documents, staining it and coloring the white pages red. His trembling hand wipes off tiny drops of sweat from his forehead.

The Avatar of Pride is not capable of panicking, as simple as that. He has everything under control, no matter what happens. But now, for the first time in eternity, Lucifer doesn’t know what to do. He’s lost and confused; the burning desire to twist the neck of whoever does this to him and the baffling temptation to submit to these new sensations are tearing him apart.

Lucifer chooses the first option, concentrating his magic on the faint traces of the curse that makes him lose control over his body. The demon frowns as he mentally untangles the magical energies and reaches the source of the disturbance.

It’s MC, it’s their life force, their magical energy. Lucifer senses the power of some kind of artifact nearby, but its magic doesn’t look dangerous. The demon sighs, letting his tensed muscles finally relax. He feels an all-consuming relief at the thought of MC being the one who’s behind this. It’s them, they are responsible for all this nonsense. Of course, who else would it be? He should’ve figured it out sooner.

A gentle pressure on his insides continues, it seems MC doesn’t use the artifact to its full potential yet, preferring to check the toy with their fingers. Lucifer leans back in his chair and spreads his long legs apart. He could fly all the way to the House of Lamentation, confiscate this suspiciously powerful artifact, and lecture them for several hours straight, but…

Lucifer’s line of thought is interrupted by a sudden sensation of some liquid inside him. The demon frowns harder as he feels his cheeks and ears burn with humiliation. He closes his eyes, not to see how his hand unzips his pants and lets out his neglected boner. He doesn’t want to accept this. Lucifer shouldn’t be so agreeable towards the fact that he is being used as a sex toy. Even if it’s MC who does that. Stroking his dick to such foul sensations feels almost like a betrayal of his Pride. He should ignore his urges and…

The touch of a much bigger object feels shocking, no matter how much Lucifer anticipated dreaded the next stage of MC’s curiosity. It feels so much hotter than their fingers; it stretches him open inch by inch without meeting any resistance from Lucifer’s body. He breathes out sharply and tries to stop his hips from trembling. What a disgrace.

Lucifer clenches his fists, stubbornly ignoring his own growing excitement. But despite his efforts, his thighs spread even wider, chasing the feeling of the hot and pulsating flesh, magically conjured to bring Lucifer pleasure. The damn artifact is too good at recreating MC’s dick, too good at imitating all the deep thrusts. The demon can bear this for only so long. He snarls, grabs his dick, and starts stocking it with hungry desperation.

A quiet moan escapes Lucifer’s lips, but he immediately shuts his mouth with his hand, trying to save at least some dignity. The quicker the pushes become, the more difficult it is to contain all the moans. As Lucifer feels MC coming inside him, he bites his hand as hard as possible to muffle the final embarrassing sound. He growls as his fangs pierce his own skin, and his dick finally releases.

It takes him some time to regain his senses. The rhythmical ticking of the clock slowly returns Lucifer to reality. The demon silently stares at the pile of documents, now partially covered not only with his blood but also his sperm. He lifts his trembling hand and snaps his fingers to set the whole pile ablaze.

…They say that after one of the offices in the House of Lords burned down, together with important documents, the whole establishment had to work overtime to restore the lost data. It’s still unknown what exactly happened; some rumors mentioned a black-winged demon flying out of the office’s window in the direction of the House of Lamentation. But the strangest event that surpassed even the fire in one of the core institutions of the Devildom was no doubt the fact that, despite the sudden calamity and overdue financial report, Lucifer was walking around with a huge, bright smile on his face.

Mammon

Mammon is in deep shit. For real this time. He breathes heavily, peeking at five demons from around the corner. He sighs with relief as they march past his hiding spot and lovingly presses a giant bag full of money to his chest.

From Mammon’s perspective, this whole situation is exclusively the fault of these stupid morons. Who the hell keeps their money in cash nowadays?! These idiots were simply begging to rob them. How could Mammon say no? He will use the money better than they ever could anyway. MC was saying something about a new phone…

Mammon quietly swears and squats behind a dumpster, merging with the shadows. One of the demons returned and is now standing uncomfortably close to his hiding spot. Mammon needs to get out of here before they find him. He should make a run for it once the path is clear.

He squats lower, firmly hugging the bag in his hands. And he almost falls on his ass once he feels some kind of movement inside this very ass. Mammon shivers from disgust at the thought that he seems to be infected by damn tapeworms. He knew that a dinner at that shady restaurant was a bad idea. But seriously, how many are there? Or is it one thick-ass worm? It sure feels like it.

Despite his struggles, Mammon does his best to keep an eye on the demon next to him. They seem to have taken a break from the chase and are now simply smoking a cigarette.

Mammon can’t wait for too long, he needs to escape now while he has this chance. It seems he has to use just a little bit of violence. This demon is relaxed and completely unaware of their surroundings; it will be easy to jump them and knock them out within seconds. Gently, of course. Mammon quietly cackles as he slowly approaches the demon, still half-squatting and holding the bag in one hand.

But just as Mammon is ready to commit yet another crime, the fucking worm starts squirming again. The demon quietly moans, then immediately slams his mouth with his hand. The loud slap almost alerts the smoking demon, but they shrug it off.

“Must’ve been the wind.” They mumble, lifting their head and glaring at the stars. The sky is so beautiful today.

Meanwhile, just several feet away from the romantic demon, Mammon is having a mental breakdown. What the hell was that? No, Mammon didn’t just moan thanks to some stupid parasites, it’s a blatant lie. He tosses the bag on the ground and tries to turn his torso backwards to check his butt. It doesn’t help in the slightest since his jeans cover everything, so Mammon can only stare at his ass with disapproval.

His whole body suddenly shivers, making him drop to his knees and close his mouth with a hand once again. He feels something sticky and moist inside. At first, this strange sensation bothered only his asshole, but now it’s spreading deeper, all the way inside…

Mammon blinks away a single tear, trying not to panic. His medical condition is certainly dire, maybe he’s even dying. No, Great Mammon won’t die from some stupid worms, or whatever this is! He’ll find a cure; he just needs to escape first. MC will have to wait for a new phone a little longer, though; it seems that all the money will be spent on Mammon’s medical bills…

A sudden pressure on his asshole sends goosebumps all over Mammon’s body. He has to cover his mouth with his second hand, falling all the way to the ground. He’s now lying on his stomach, trying to regain his senses. Mammon feels something pushing inside him. His legs tremble, losing all their strength. His brain is trying to process everything that is happening but completely gives up once the ass gets attacked by powerful thrusts. Mammon’s erection is pressed uncomfortably to the ground through his jeans. He can’t even change the position, or at least take off his pants, since his body has fully betrayed him. The violent shivers shake Mammon’s body; he spends his last energy keeping his hands close to his mouth. Otherwise, the whole neighborhood will hear his whimpers.

Mammon’s mind is completely shut down, maybe as a way of precaution. At least the poor demon can’t reflect on the whole situation and be terrified of being either hopelessly ill or cursed. He can only focus on deep thrusts that hit his prostate over and over. The only thing that bothers him right now is his dick, still trapped in his jeans. He presses his hips closer to the ground to get at least some friction.

Mammon closes his eyes, breathing heavily into his hands. He’s so close, just a little more…

He’s suddenly being filled with something so hot that it heats up his insides; his ass unconsciously starts to greedily absorb this mysterious substance. Mammon trembles violently as he finally comes all over his pants. His last vocal moans break through the shield of his hands, shattering the surrounding silence.

As Mammon slowly returns to reality, he feels that his ass is now completely fine. He also feels that he is now surrounded by five angry demons who are ready to beat the shit out of him.

…MC is caressing Mammon’s soft hair as the demon complains to them about his rotten luck. He managed to escape in the end, which was a miracle, even with his abilities to run faster than anyone in the Devildom. The demons didn’t succeed in hurting him, but they took all their money back. Mammon doesn’t care that much about the money, though, being much more concerned about the possible disease. And MC just silently pats his hair, gathering their courage to tell Mammon about that one cool thing they found… And how it can actually be responsible for all of today’s misadventures.

Leviathan

Levi is bursting with excitement as he strolls around the comic-con. The amount of merch for all his favorite shows is simply unbelievable; and all the talented cosplayers make him wish he wasn’t such a shut-in otaku. To take a photo with any of them would be like a dream come true, but he’ll reach this major milestone some other time. He already has a huge reason to be proud of himself today.

Few reasons, actually. First of all, he came to this comic-con alone. All alone! Him! That’s right, he doesn’t need to ask Beel or Satan to come with him anymore. He doesn’t need any emotional support to come to this place, full of people… scary strangers… maybe they all think that he’s gross… or he smells bad…

Levi shakes his head, using his personal method of overcoming such anxiety attacks. All he needs to do is imagine MC, who holds him by the hand and smiles brightly at him. Yeah, that’s better. They always do this when he’s about to panic. Levi can’t give up, he promised that he’d have fun on his own.

The demon sighs, wishing MC was here with him. Lucifer forbade them to leave the house after they broke something when they were fooling around with Mammon. Levi frowns: this greedy scumbag always finds a way to mess with him, and now Levi has to spend the day all alone. Mammon ruined their date, and…

No-no-no-no, it wasn’t supposed to be a date, alright?! It WASN’T! Levi just offered MC to come with him, that’s all. He didn’t actually hope… That would be just silly, right?! Right…

Levi shakes his head once again, adjusting his stockings. Heels are not so bad, but these stockings are constantly trying to fall down. Maybe his legs are too skinny for this…

Hm? Oh yeah, that’s actually the second reason why Levi should be proud of himself. When he finally decided to invite MC on a da-… to hang out, he decided to consult with the professional, namely Asmo. He gave him some strange advices, like not eating too much during the day to avoid getting too dirty down “there”. Levi didn’t know where “there” was exactly, but he didn’t have the courage to ask. Other than that, Asmo had some great ideas: he assured Levi that MC would really appreciate it if he showed them his true passion. Specifically, if Levi put on his Ruri-chan costume, with stockings and all.

This idea got him really inspired; Levi spent several days preparing the costume for the show. So when the da-… the hangout was cancelled, he couldn’t just leave the costume at home. So he quickly made a giant sign “No photos, No touching, No interactions”, and came to the comic-con dressed in his pink dress.

Levi has never been prouder of himself. Despite everything, he paid homage to his favorite character. He wishes MC could see him right now…

“Ngh…” Levi winces, almost dropping his sign to the ground. His thighs firmly press together, slightly shaking from a sudden, unknown sensation between them. The demon blushes heavily and sprints to the bathroom, locking himself in one of the stalls.

He tosses the sign on the floor, lifts his skirt, and tries to inspect the area beneath. Levi did his best to make Ruri-chan’s costume as authentic as possible, which obviously included the right type of underwear. So now the demon carefully gropes his hips, covered with pink silk panties, in search of anything unusual.

His fingers dig into the silky fabric as he feels a strong tremble that concentrates in the area of his butt. He almost tears his underwear with his claws, trying to fight the unexpected weakness in his knees and not fall to the floor.

Levi gathers his strength, reaches the toilet lid, smashes it closed, and lands on it, breathing heavily. He would have never thought that it would be so hard to do such mundane actions, but he feels exhaustion after this little feat. He’s so confused by the riot of his own body that he doesn’t know what to think. Levi feels something slowly pushing inside, stretching him carefully. The only thing that prevents him from starting to seriously freak out is the fact that this unknown force immediately finds his weak spot.

The demon loudly screeches as something starts applying more pressure to his prostate. His dick already peeks out of the pink panties, leaving wet stains on the underwear and the skirt.

“Excuse me? Are you all right?” Someone knocks at the door of Levi’s stall, making him freeze. He squeezes his skirt in frustration as he shakily replies:

“Y-y-yes.”

That’s the best he can do, but luckily the stranger finds this reply passable and leaves him alone. Levi feels as his butt and asshole get covered in something sticky and warm, and he shivers in terror and anticipation. Wait, “anticipation”? No, Levi doesn’t enjoy this insane situation, not at all!

But self-reflection can wait. If the pushes renew, his voice will betray him again. And if this happens, the whole comic-con will hear him, and he certainly can’t let this happen! Levi needs to find something to block all the sounds ASAP. He looks around, trying to find something useful, but there aren’t many things in toilet stalls. Maybe something on him… Oh!

A genius idea graciously visits him. One of the main pieces of Ruri-chan’s clothing is, no doubt, her cute pink hat. Levi mentally apologizes to Ruri-chan for using her iconic hat in that way, takes it off, and shoves it in his mouth.

Just in time for a new stage of thrusts to start. This time they are much more intense. Levi feels how his fangs tear the soft fabric of his precious hat. But his idea mostly works: all his moans and whines are muffled, they are just quiet enough not to alert other people. He grabs his skirt, panties, his own thighs – anything other than his dick. Levi doesn’t want to do it like this. Not in the toilet stall, surrounded by strangers. Not in the Ruri-chan’s dress. Not without MC…

Levi slightly relaxes as his thoughts concentrate on MC. If he imagines that it’s them who inserts their dick inside him, he’ll manage to get through it. His brain successfully tricks itself, almost actually making him believe that it’s MC who is behind this cruel joke. If it’s them, it’s all right, Levi thinks, and allows himself to touch his neglected cock.

He strokes it desperately, focusing on his vivid fantasy of MC. His hole starts pulsating eagerly as he dives into his imagination. Whatever is on the other side must’ve felt how welcoming his hole became; the thrusts get faster and harder, almost making Levi fall from the toilet seat to the floor. He quickens the pace of his strokes to match the impatient pushes, squeezing the hat in his mouth with all his might.

He comes the moment he feels the hot release of an unknown entity inside him. Colorful circles flood his vision, leaving him completely strengthless. He tries to catch his breath, lazily thinking about the ruined costume, especially the pink panties he accidentally tore up. Now he needs to somehow clean up and hurry home, seeking refuge in MC’s arms. He’ll never go to any event without them again.

Part 2 (Satan, Asmo) Part 3 (Beel, Belphie) Part 4 (Diavolo)

P.S. The art doesn't belong to me, it's an official art from Shall We Date: Obey Me! (You, Me and Devil's Coast card)

#obey me #obey me smut #obey me fanfic #omswd fanfic #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #mc x lucifer #mc x mammon #mc x leviathan #male mc #amab mc #bottom lucifer #bottom mammon #bottom leviathan #obey me gn!mc #obey me gender neutral mc #obey me ao3

295 notes · View notes

bg-brainrot · 9 months ago

Text

"When He’s all but Forgotten How to Love Again" - Astarion x GN!Reader - Series Masterlist

Pairing: Astarion x GN!Reader (Elf!Tav for plot reasons)

Genre: Reincarnation, Angst, Mystery, Slow burn

Rating: Explicit, 18+

Tags: Gender-Neutral Pronouns, POV Second Person, Canon-Typical Violence, cw: blood, cw: Astarion's entire backstory, cw: sex, Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, Eventual Fluff, Grief, Mourning, Developing Relationship

Series WC: 113k words and ongoing, 21/?? chapters

Summary: An Elf-Tav reincarnation story where Reincarnated!Tav dreams about Astarion in their nightly reveries and eventually seeks him out once they reach maturity. Things definitely totally go well.

Author’s Notes: I'm bringing over some of my multi-chapter fics from AO3, so if you've already read this, ty!! I love you and appreciate you so much! I will continue to add chapters as I format them, but the full fic is available on AO3 here if you're feeling like a binge.

Heads up-- while there will be explicit moments, this is first and foremost focused on romantic tension and yearning, asking the question: 'Would you still love me if I was someone completely different?’ Explicit scenes will be few and far between and very much focused on their feelings. It’s essentially an established relationship slow burn?

This has unascended Astarion, “good” choices are made in the original timeline, Tav needs to be an elf for this to work, but otherwise no specifics on past Tav. Present day Tav is a magic-user.

Chapters:

Chapter 1: Knifes and Nightmares

At 12 years old, you first dream of the Pale Elf. The encounter scares you and sets you on your path forward.

Chapter 2: The Second Encounter with the Pale Elf

Nearly 19, you think you have a handle of your past lives. However, not all of your past lives are created equal.

Chapter 3: What it Means to Love

Now 29, you're still trying to piece together parts of your past. In particular, what exactly was your relationship with Astarion?

Chapter 4: In this Lifetime

Now 99-years-old, you've managed to ignore your worst impulses to run off to Baldur's Gate. One night's reverie finally breaks you.

Chapter 5: Guidance from a Druid

After finally setting off to find Astarion, you receive a confounding memory from your past life. Ignoring what it might mean, you focus on your task and visiting Halsin, one of your past-self's friends.

Chapter 6: The Man of your Dreams

You make your way toward Astarion, trying your best to prepare for the encounter to come.

Chapter 7: Just One Night

You plead your case to the vampire.

Chapter 8: Who You Have Become

You try to learn more of who Astarion's become, while also trying to convince him of who you were.

Chapter 9: Ghosts of You

After he storms off, you try to track Astarion down only to find yourself on a trip down memory lane. Once you do catch his trail, you’re surprised to see where he’s gone.

Chapter 10: Overheard in the Underdark

You traverse a new landscape, looking for Astarion. What you find might be more than you bargain for, and what you hear might be too much to handle.

Chapter 11: An Interrogation

You spend the night in vampire prison and have a difficult conversation.

Chapter 12: The Source of his Pain

As you aim to leave and never look back, Astarion realizes that perhaps *he's* the one that made the mistake.

Chapter 13: And They Were Roommates

You and Astarion try to find a common ground between you. Things are awkward and tentative, and progress is anything but linear.

Chapter 14: A Blossoming Friendship

Now in your second week of living together, you and Astarion have to get past some of the hurdles your first week introduced, all while getting a bit closer along the way.

Chapter 15: More than Friends Pt. 1

Push finally comes to shove. As fun as living in the present is, Astarion forgets that present dangers are still very, very real. Afterward, emotions run high, and you find yourself in a familiar predicament.

Chapter 16: More than Friends Pt. 2

After talking through the previous night's tryst, emotions are confused, pasts are divulged, and everything comes to a head when your heart and soul want different things.

Chapter 17: What We are Now

When you’re left to your own devices, you find yourself knee-deep in mystery. Despite all of this, Astarion never leaves your mind. And perhaps you never leave his.

Chapter 18: Traveling with a Friend

You and Astarion travel together to Waterdeep. Emotions run high as you reconnect and reestablish your boundaries.

Chapter 19: The Wizard’s Tower

After traveling through Waterdeep, you and Astarion finally arrive at Gale's tower. Introductions are made, tours are had, and the relationship between yourself and Astarion continues to remain complicated.

Chapter 20: Sweets and Shopping

After receiving some advice from Gale, you and Astarion spend the day shopping and talking through your friendship.

Chapter 21: Dansarra’s Delights

Your wizard friend gives you a nigh impossible task, and you spend the day trying to find your opening to complete it.

Chapter 22 - TBA

...

#astarion #astarion x tav #fanfic #astarion fic #astarion x reader #astarion fanfiction #astarion fanfic #astarion masterlist #gn reader #astarion x gn reader #astarion x gn!tav #astarion baldurs gate #bg3 astarion #when he's all but forgotten how to love again #whabfhtla #reincarnation trope #elf!tav #astarion x you #astarion slowburn

201 notes · View notes

tinfoil-jones · 8 days ago

Text

Gravity Falls: For Your Own Good, Ch. 4

Summary: A few years after moving to Gravity Falls and having his lab built, Stanford Pines happens upon his estranged twin brother, Stanley. He mentally prepared himself to be suffocated by his brothers neediness all over again - what he wasn't prepared for was Stanley walking right past him like he didn't even notice him.

Rating: M for language, violence, and adult implications

Preface: Dialogue only, but some actions will be annotated for clarity. Cross-Posted on AO3 Here

First - Prev - Next

CH.4

"If we’re going to get to the pit of this peach we gotta get some variables outta the way first. I need a scan of his brain and yours. While conscious.”

“Mine as well?”

“You said he’s your identical twin - he should be genetically the same as you. We can use a scan of your brain as a comparison to see if there’s physical damage on the organ itself, because brain damage is the most common cause of amnesia.”

“I do have the technology available for an in-depth scan, but… ”

“But what?”

“It’s in the shape of a ray gun, but like a traditional MRI whoever is getting scanned has to stay completely still.”

“I don’t s’pose in the time it took me to go into town and get supplies, you managed to reconcile with him?”

“Reconcile? He’s still convinced I’m a mad scientist out to harvest his organs, 'or worse turn him over to the IRS'- don’t ask about that second part. If I point anything gun-shaped at him, he’ll freak out.”

“Can’t say I blame him…”

“Hush, Fiddleford. There’s an easy way we can get him to hold still.”

“Stanford- Stanford put the tranquilizing doohickey away. We both know that concoction of yours wasn’t formulated with humans in mind. Surely you have less caustic means of sedation.”

---

“Stanford, anyone can tell that bottle’s been tampered with.”

“I have a theory that this persona of his is so self-destructive he’ll still drink it.”

“Y’know, this bottled water tastes suspiciously like two crushed Ambien tablets.”

*Stan keeps drinking it anyways*

“I am impressed, but I also hate that your theory was correct.”

*Ford undeafens the cell*

“Stanley, if you think there’s zolpidem in that, why are you still drinking it?”

“You think two Ambien is enough to take me down? Guess again, I’ve used this stuff to cut coke. You’re gonna have to try harder than that, PhD.”

“Hmm, so we should have used Coca-Cola instead of water…”

“That ain’t what he meant by- how did you survive by yourself out here?”

---

“Hello there …Stan?”

“Sup babe.”

“Don’t call me that. I was wondering - you’re so handsome already, but it’d surely tickle my fancy a bit more if you put on this here necktie.”

“Hell no.”

“Do you not know how to tie one? I’d be happy to-.”

“I know how to tie a tie, specs. But I’ll never wear a necktie ever again. Not after Colombia… I still can’t shave that part of my jaw without nightmares.”

“I beg your pardon?”

---

“I couldn’t convince him to put the mind control tie on.”

“Fiddleford, why are you staring a thousand yards away?”

“He was explaining to me his time in Colombian prison, then he went on a tangent about necklaces and now I don’t think I can change a tire without thinking about it ever again.”

“... Interesting. We’re not resorting to the tranq gun yet?”

“This is your own brother you’re talking about.”

“There’s only one thing we can do. The only thing that will 99.99% work on my brother. I didn’t think it would have to come to this so soon. But it’s our only unharmful option left.”

---

“Stanley.”

“Doc.”

“I will give you twenty dollars if you stay still for thirty whole seconds.”

“On one hand this is a set up… On the other hand, I’ve done worse for twenty dollars.”

“You what ?”

“Ten bucks up front.”

To be continued...

#if we take inflation into account 20 bucks is a lot of money okay #early amnesia au #you know the situation is pretty bad when Fiddleford has to be the ethical one #I dont know what happens when you mix Ambien and cocaine or coca cola just don't try it at home youd probably just die #Stan did it because he's a fictional character who follows a degree of toon logic #stanford pines #ford pines #fiddleford hadron mcgucket #fiddleford mcgucket #stanley pines #stan pines #fiddlestan #but in the background #gravity falls #fanfiction #fanfic #cross posted on ao3 #Stan calling Ford anything except for his name #mystery trio

46 notes · View notes

inawickedlittletown · 2 months ago

Text

Just Let Me Adore You (BuckTommy) - 1/4

Summary: What if…instead of Chimney taking the role of interim Captain of the 118, Tommy is asked to take on the role.

Or, what happens when Buck meets Tommy in S2

Words: 3.6k

Notes: Title from Adore You by Harry Styles

Read on Ao3

Part One

“Tommy! Hey, man, what are you doing here?” Chim called out.

Buck followed his line of sight. He didn’t know the man standing up on the loft, hands resting on the railing, already in uniform. He also didn’t understand why Bobby was coming up behind him still in jeans and a button down. Neither of them said a word, but the guy — Tommy — offered them a nod.

“Hey, who is that?” Buck asked as he and Chim made it into the locker room.

“Tommy? He used to work here, transferred to the 217 a few years ago right before you started. Come to think of it, I guess you replaced him,” Chim said.

“And now he’s back?”

Chim shrugged his shoulders and Buck settled for getting out of his street clothes and into his uniform quickly. Eddie ran in looking confused too. After the week they’d had they had all been looking forward to things going back to normal. No heists, no police raiding their homes, and no more questions from detectives.

They made it up just in time to join Hen and a few of the others. Bobby had them gather around the table with Tommy standing somewhere behind him. It seemed it was more than just Chim that knew him going by the fist bumps and high fives and nods and smiles exchanged. Buck couldn’t keep his eyes from straying towards Tommy because there was something so absolutely captivating and Buck couldn’t put his finger on it other than to acknowledge that yes Tommy was one of the most beautiful men that Buck had ever seen.

And then, Bobby told them he was being investigated. He was suspended pending the investigation and Tommy Kinard was taking over as Captain for the time being. Bobby seemed resigned more than anything and behind him Tommy just stood silently as they all tried to argue that Bobby shouldn’t be investigated for something he’d more than atoned for. Buck was the one that walked Bobby out to his car.

“It’s okay, Buck,” Bobby said. “I don’t know what’s going to happen, but if this is the way it goes this is the way it goes.”

“Is there anything I can do? Anything any of us can do?”

Bobby smiled at him. He pat his shoulder. “Not at the moment. Just gotta wait and see.”

“How are you this calm?”

“I always knew it was a possibility. You should get back in there. New Captain and all.”

Buck grabbed Bobby’s arm. “Wait, who is that guy?”

“Tommy? He’s good people. It was going to be Chim, but Tommy was available and the Chief decided Tommy could do it. Not permanently—”

“Because you’ll be back in no time,” Buck said.

Bobby rolled his eyes. “We don’t know that. For now he’s your Captain, don’t make things any harder than they need to be.”

“Sure. Sure.”

“I mean it, Buck.”

He headed back in and found Chim, Hen, Eddie, and their new interim Captain in the kitchen.

His eyes found Tommy and it was hard to look away, especially when he was smiling. His teeth were just so white and the skin on the edges of his eyes crinkled. His jaw was defined, sharp as can be and his chin had a cleft. He was captivating.

“Buck, come over here and meet Tommy,” Chim called out, motioning for him. “Tommy, this is Buck.”

“Buckley,” Tommy said. “Your name isn’t Buck Buckley is it?”

There was a glint of amusement in his eyes. Buck was struck by Tommy’s gaze. His eyes were blue and piercing, it was as if he were looking right through Buck to his very soul.

“Uh, Evan,” Buck said.

“Evan,” Tommy said and he said it like it was important, like Buck was important.

—

Tommy wasn’t happy about the placement. It felt like a punishment, especially for someone like him. Of course, it was better than the alternative. He was grounded. No flying for him. Captain Reid had given him a choice and as dumb as the whole situation was, he supposed that being at the 118 as acting Captain was better than having to sit out on air support calls at the 217 and watching everyone else get to climb into the helicopters and go up leaving him to respond with the ground crew. He’d see the judgment from some and the pity from others. So, no thank you.

Of course, going back to the 118 meant that he’d be facing his past and that…well, that could go wrong if Tommy let it.

The timing had just happened to work out and though Tommy wasn’t privy to why Captain Nash was getting investigated, he just knew that it would blow over. There was no way they had anything on him that would lose the man his job. The short time that Tommy had worked with him, he’d been impressed and if it hadn’t been for the opportunity to get back in the air, he would have stuck around. Maybe he would have even managed to tell them all the truth. Or maybe, he never would have built up the nerve.

The moment he stepped into the 118 again it felt like going back in time. His bag was slung over his shoulder as he walked past the trucks and he found Captain Nash regarding the trucks. He looked mostly resigned.

“I didn’t know you’d be here,” Tommy said. “Can I ask what happened?”

“I wanted to tell them myself. It’s my past catching up with me. I always knew it could be a possibility,” Bobby said. “I’m sure you heard about the bank heist we almost got framed for?”

Tommy chuckled, bemused. “What? No. I didn’t.”

He’d been a little too busy dealing with his own shit to pay attention to something like that.

Bobby chuckled in response. “It was a long week,” he said.

“The Chief didn’t say much,” Tommy said.

“Well, we had a call to a bank and afterwards money and diamonds were missing. Someone put the cash on the truck, so they looked into all of us pretty deeply. They found stuff about my transfer and here we are.”

“I’m sure this will all get cleared up,” Tommy said. “There have been worse people that managed to keep their jobs in the LAFD.”

He could tell that Bobby wasn’t convinced as he walked past him to the familiar locker room. Tommy had loved this place once, had thought that he’d found where he belonged. Of course, it had also meant compromising who he really was. He’d been so deep in that closet, but it was entirely about self-preservation. Leaving the 118 as much as it had been about flying, had been about being ready to embrace who he was. It had been about telling the truth.

Returning to the 118 felt like falling backwards. Back into the lies. Back into the closet. Back into the mindset that he had to build up a wall to keep himself safe. Except that…he could choose differently. He didn’t need to lie. He was the Captain, they didn’t need to know anything about his personal life. If they asked, Tommy wouldn’t lie. He wasn’t going backwards.

He met back up with Bobby at the loft. It still looked the same as when he’d left.

“Circumstances aside, how do you feel about being back here?” Bobby asked. “I know this wasn’t your first choice.”

“It was my only choice,” Tommy said. “I’m excited to work with Chimney and Hen again. Timing worked out, I guess. Who would they have gotten the position otherwise?”

“Chim,” Bobby said. “But once the Chief mentioned you might be up for it, I figured that worked just as well. You know this house and you know the job.”

Tommy ducked his head. “And I’m rooting for you to be back as soon as possible,” Tommy added.

“There’s that, too.”

“Chim would have made a good Captain,” Tommy said.

“Yes. I just don’t think he would have liked it.”

He could tell that Bobby hadn’t been told why Tommy was available, and Tommy didn’t offer the information. He wondered if Bobby would be alright with him taking his spot if he knew? Somehow, he did think that Bobby would be on his side. Hell, even Captain Reid was on his side even if his hands were tied. He thought that Bobby was about to ask, but Bobby was too professional to ask even if he did look curious.

Bobby took him through a few things back in his office — the office Tommy would be taking over. He was warned about the paperwork, but Tommy already did more than his share of paperwork back at the 217.

It had never been a goal of his to make it to Captain. He wondered if giving Sal a call as the acting Captain of the 118 might be warranted. He’d wanted it so badly back then and now it was Tommy in the position even if temporary. Sal might get a laugh out of that. He could send Gerrard a postcard too with just two words on it “Fuck-You”. Tommy never said he couldn’t be petty. All things considered, it was nice to think of doing things like that, but Tommy wouldn’t. He and Sal had lost touch a while back a little bit on purpose and Tommy hoped to never have to see Gerrard ever again.

By the time that they heard the A-shift getting in, Tommy was as prepared as could be. He wouldn’t live up to what Bobby was as a Captain, but he would try his best and rely on having good people working under him. If nothing else, Tommy had time and experience on his hands and he was a damn good firefighter. A pilot too.

What Tommy was not expecting was the gorgeous man walking in with Howie. So maybe, it’d be a little more complicated than he’d expected.

So maybe he checked out a guy every once in a while. Buck was appreciative of the human form and sometimes those forms were male. It was normal. Completely and absolutely normal and everyone did that right? He had never really thought about it, but could easily admit to himself that Tommy Kinard was a beautiful man.

Throughout that first shift with Captain Kinard in command, Buck might have let his eyes linger on the man more than should be normal, he just couldn’t help himself. It didn’t help that Tommy was competent too. No one could ever replace Bobby, but he could admit that Tommy knew what he was doing. Within a few calls, he seemed to know who worked well together and who did what best. He was creative, too, and open to suggestions.

The one weird thing was that Tommy insisted on calling him Evan. Not in a condescending way or anything, but just because that’s the name that he felt like using. Stranger still was how much Buck liked it, it was why he didn’t correct him, not even when Chim made a face at him.

“Evan, get the jaws,” Tommy ordered. “Hen, how’s it looking in there?”

The car accident wasn’t major, luckily. The girl inside couldn’t have been more than seventeen and she’d been panicking ever since the shock wore off.

Buck returned with the jaws just in time to see Tommy lean to speak to the girl from the passenger side. His voice was calm and reassuring. It was so smooth and was it bad that Buck wanted to just listen to him speak forever? Could he narrate every book that Buck wanted to read? Or start a podcast?

“Buck, what’s the hold up?” Hen asked.

He blinked and rushed forward. “Sorry.”

He thought he saw Tommy quirk an eyebrow.

With help from Eddie, he got the door open and removed. Hen did a more thorough check up and Tommy stayed nearby. The girl seemed awed by him and Buck didn’t blame her one bit.

A couple rushed towards them, escorted by Athena.

“Amelia!” the woman shouted.

“Parents,” Athena said. Before any of them could move, Tommy got to them.

“Your daughter is fine,” Tommy told them. “Just give my paramedic time to check her over. We don’t even think she’ll need to go to the hospital.”

On their way back to the station, they started discussing their dinner options. Buck was sure that if a few of them — not Eddie — got into the kitchen they could come up with enough edible food. Nothing on par with Bobby’s cooking but edible, Buck had picked up enough over the years. Tommy didn’t seem to trust that.

“Maybe we’ll attempt that another day,” Tommy said to Evan.

“Pizza it is,” Chim said. “You know, Cap is the one usually doing the cooking. You don’t want to give it whirl, Tommy?”

Tommy laughed. Hen joined in.

“If you want to get food poisoning.”

“You can’t cook?” Buck asked. “Can’t be worse than Eddie.”

“Hey, I can microwave stuff,” Eddie said.

They all burst into laughter.

When they got back to the station, Buck somehow found himself on his own with Tommy. Chim had been tasked with ordering the food and Hen had gone with him to make sure he got it right. Eddie was already on the phone with Shannon which was the norm for him since they’d reconnected. Buck thought that Eddie was looking a lot happier, as complicated as it all seemed to be.

“How do you think I’m doing on my first day?”

“Uh…you want my opinion?” Buck asked. “I’m…I mean you’re doing good. You cl-clearly know what you’re doing.”

Tommy stared at him and then gave a nod. “Thanks, Evan.”

Buck didn’t want him to walk away. He still knew very little about Tommy. Just that he’d transferred out of the 118 right before Buck arrived as a probie and now he was back to his old house. He’d also been a firefighter longer than any of them, going by how he’d talked about Chim’s first day as a probie.

“Hey, so how come you left the 118?” Buck asked.

“It was time. And I wanted to get back in the air,” Tommy said.

Buck lost a step, but caught up to Tommy’s strides. “Wait, the air? So you’re air support? Like planes? Or helicopters?”

“Both. But mostly helicopters,” Tommy confirmed.

It only made Tommy that much hotter. And wait…since when did Buck think that men were hot? Maybe not like in general, but Tommy was…if you had eyes there was no way to miss that he was hot.

“You were the one Chim called that time at that fire. Saved Eddie’s life…well, Eddie and the kid he was rescuing.”

“Yeah,” Tommy said with a chuckle.

“That’s really cool. So why — why give that up to come and boss us around?”

At that, Tommy lost the smile. The crinkles around his eyes went away, replaced by frown lines on his forehead.

“I should go fill out some reports,” Tommy said and walked away.

“Touchy subject, I guess,” Buck said and watched as Tommy walked away from him, unable to tear his eyes from his back and yes, maybe checking him out just a little. Was it his fault that Tommy’s ass filled out his uniform really well?

—

They really were a family. It wasn’t shocking to him, but it still left him feeling more than a little jealous because this is the thing that Tommy had always wanted. He’d thought he would find it in the Army and then he thought he would find that as a firefighter, and then his expectations had been lower when he transferred to Harbor and as much as he liked it there, it wasn’t a family. They were co-workers and some were friendlier than others, but it was nothing like whatever was happening at the 118.

He watched them banter throughout the day, and as welcoming as they were, he didn’t quite fit. They had inside jokes and a way of communicating that made their work quick and efficient. Tommy wasn’t supposed to be their friend, that kept him outside of it too. He didn’t know how Bobby had managed to balance it all.

“Tommy, you joining us?” Hen asked. “You know we all eat together around here.”

Tommy let out a breath. “I’ll be right there.”

“How are you holding up?” Hen asked, always perceptive. “Being the Captain?”

“I have a good team. It’s not too bad,” Tommy said. “Different, I guess. I haven’t been on this many ground calls in a while.”

She asked him about Harbor and as long as Tommy didn’t have to talk about the events of a week ago, he could discuss it. He could see Evan and Eddie listening in, but other than Chim, no one chimed in.

After dinner they had a call out to an attempted suicide. He stood back and watched as Hen and Chim worked to get the guy out of the car he’d landed on after jumping off a building. His gaze then found Evan.

Evan who was helping with the gurney and talking to the owner of the car. Evan who was capable and well meaning and who had been his replacement when he transferred. It would have been easier if Evan was less interesting and less adorable. He was straight, though, and there had been mention of a girlfriend. Tommy had crushed on enough straight guys to know how it went, but there was just something about Evan. Maybe it was the happy-go-lucky attitude, or how confident he was out on calls. Or maybe it was just how good he looked while wearing turnouts.

By the time their shift ended, Tommy had been cajoled into joining them out for a drink. Eddie turned them down because he had a date with his wife. He almost expected Evan to excuse himself too in favor of spending time with his girlfriend, but instead he was happy to have an excuse not to go home.

“You don’t have a home,” Chim said.

Tommy looked between them.

“Just because I’m staying with Maddie, doesn’t mean I don’t have a home,” Evan threw back. Turning to Tommy, he said, “I’ve started searching for my own place. It’s just hard.”

Hen didn’t comment, but she shook her head and pat Evan’s arm. Tommy found all of it curious.

At the bar, Tommy found himself in the booth with Evan to his left and as the night went on he felt like Evan had gotten closer and closer to him. He didn’t mind, liked the line of his warmth, and liked how every time Evan moved, he brushed up against him. It was dangerous, though, and Tommy couldn’t let this infatuation grow.

“So, Tommy, you seeing anyone?” Hen asked.

Tommy shook his head. “Not at the moment,” he said and this was his moment. It was presented to him perfectly. He just needed to say it.

It was the time to tell them he dated men and that to be entirely clear they were first dates or hookups because Tommy was not luckily enough to find someone that wanted something deeper with him. Everytime he tried…well, Tommy just wasn’t lucky enough to find someone that fit.

On apps they were all interested because of what he looked like and then he took the time to set up a date and then he was disappointed because those guys wanted to sleep with him and weren’t actually interested in getting to know him. Half the time they didn’t even want to go on a date as much as meet up for a romp in the sheets. The same thing happened at bars. He’d be approached, sure, but nothing ever actually went anywhere. Tommy was actually getting sick of trying.

“Really?” Evan said. “But you’re so…I mean, who wouldn’t want to date you.”

And then, Evan reached over and felt up his arm. His fingers lingered and Tommy glanced down at Evan’s hand and then back at Evan. Evan went pink and he dropped his hand to his lap as if he’d had no control over his hand. He coughed.

“Sorry.”

“That’s precisely why,” Tommy said. “Seems all anyone sees is the muscles.”

“Their loss,” Evan said, staring at him. “You are definitely more than just brawn.”

When he met Hen’s eyes, she looked like she was squinting at him. Tommy decided it was time he get their next round. He was surprised when Evan bumped his shoulder a moment later.

“Wanted to help you carry,” Evan said, but he looked like it was actually more than that.

“What is it, Evan?”

Evan shifted on his feet. “I just…I wanted to say that I get it. Not, uh, not being seen for more than one aspect of who you are. I only met you today and I’m…I mean, you’re impressive.”

“Impressive, huh?” Tommy asked, looking at him, askance.

Evan was…was he blushing? Because the pink on his cheeks was definitely more than a result of the beers he’d drunk.

“You fly helicopters,” Evan responded and seemed on the verge of listing other things, except the bartender arrived with the four beers he’d asked for.

Tommy could have carried them on his own, but he let Evan grab two of them. When they got back in the booth, he tried to keep some space between them, but it didn’t matter for long.

“Buck, you haven’t talked about Ali lately,” Hen said and it felt pointed even if Hen wasn’t looking at him.

Evan leaned back. “She’s in Seattle for a few days,” he informed them. “Not much to say when I haven’t seen her in a while.” He shrugged his shoulders.

Looking at Evan, Tommy couldn’t tell if that bothered him or not. He did see Hen and Chim share a look that Evan missed. Was there a story there? If there was, no one was willing to tell him.

#bucktommy #bucktommy fic #buck x tommy #evan buckley #tommy kinard #911 abc #911 fic #tevan #kinley

63 notes · View notes

thefrogdalorian · 10 months ago

Text

Always

Din Djarin x GN!Reader

Word Count: 1588 Rating: General Summary: You wake up from an incredibly distressing nightmare in which Din and Grogu had suddenly vanished from your life without a trace. Fortunately, Din is there to console you with his comforting embrace and soothing words. He leaves you feeling optimistic about the future, rather than dreading what lies ahead for the pair of you. Content Warnings: Reader has a nightmare and panic attack! Author's Note: I opened up Google Docs and started churning this baby out minutes after the movie announcement yesterday. Until I see confirmation season 4 is in production I'll be spiralling that the show as we know it has ended, despite how excited I am to see Clan Mudhorn on the big screen!! I just needed to write this for some comfort for myself, but I really hope you enjoyed it too.

My Masterlist

Read on AO3

The presence of a large hand on your shoulder, gently shaking you, awakened you from the torturous visions that had overtaken your consciousness while you were sleeping. The nightmare had rocked you to your core, but the warm touch of Din’s hand on your shoulder brought you back from that terrible place that your mind had taken you to. Only seconds ago, you had been experiencing a hauntingly realistic nightmare where Din had disappeared from your life without a trace.

In the terrifying scene your mind had created, you arrived back – after running some errands in the centre of town – at the small cabin the two of you shared with Grogu on Nevarro to find it empty. The cabin was achingly quiet and still as you approached. There was no light, laughter or love; you had felt the bile rise in your throat at the realisation that all evidence of Din and Grogu’s existence had been inexplicably wiped from your life.

The numerous colourful drawings Grogu had created of your Clan of Three, usually pinned to the door of the cooling chamber with magnets, had vanished. As had the toys that were carelessly strewn across the rug in the main living area of the cabin – despite how frequently Din nagged the cheeky little boy to pick them up.

The ghosts of memories danced around you, haunting as you searched every inch of the desolate cabin for any explanation for their absence. The couch where you had often cuddled up with Din, feeling so warm and safe in his arms, was now heartbreakingly empty. But nothing had prepared you for the devastation you felt when you walked into the room you shared together with Din to find the assortment of shelves that he carefully stacked his Beskar armour and helmet on every night, after meticulously polishing them, lay completely empty.

At the sight of that, you knew something was seriously wrong. The armour was a second skin to Din, a part of his body; an extension of his person even when he was not wearing it. Without that it was as though he had somehow been erased, as though he had never existed in the first place. Din Djarin appeared to be nothing more than a figment of your imagination. You had shouted and screamed their names at the top of your lungs as you paced through the cabin, your voice growing more frantic with each passing second. But it was to no avail; it was as though Din and Grogu were never a part of your life. Their presence had abruptly vanished without warning or explanation.

Fortunately, Din's gentle, careful touch on your shoulder had roused you from the terrifying visions that had haunted you in slumber. As you lay there, a sheen of sweat growing cold across your forehead, your eyes took a second to adjust to the darkness. When they eventually did, the first thing that came into focus in your vision was the sight of Din peering down at you, his warm brown eyes full of concern.

It was a sight that instantly soothed your soul, but the rich, gravelly baritone of his voice reverberating through the night to console you calmed your shaken body and mind even further.

“It was just a dream, I’m here,” Din said calmly as he held your chin gently in one hand. “You’re safe, cyare. It was only a dream. I’m right here with you.”

“Din?” You murmured, feeling as hot tears scorched a path down your cheeks as you sat up to face him.

“I’ve got you,” Din said as he gathered you to him, his strong arms encircling your body protectively, his chin resting on top of your head.

“I thought… I thought you’d left,” You forced out between sobs. “I came back to the cabin and you’d… you were gone, Din…”

“I would never leave you,” Din asserted. He snapped his head up where it rested on your scalp and held you away from him, shaking his head as though disgusted by the notion. “I’ve got you, I’m right here by your side, always. I’m never leaving you, cyare, You know that, don’t you?”

You nodded weakly. “It was so real, though,” You choked, “It really felt as though you had left me forever, without even saying goodbye.”

“I would never leave you like that," Din said earnestly. "There is no reality where I would ever do such a thing."

Despite the conviction in Din’s voice, you remained unconvinced. The nightmare you had just woken up from had sewn seeds of doubt in your mind. Din led a dangerous life, after all. You had been under no illusions about that fact when you had met him. You knew that there were multiple reasons he might end up injured, or worse, during the course of one of his various jobs with the New Republic.

“But what if something happens to you one day and you’re taken away from me. Oh, Din, I don’t know what I’d do without you,” You whispered, feeling utterly shattered by the emotions you were currently experiencing.

“That’s not going to happen, cyare. I’ve made it this far, even after all the binds I’ve found myself in over the years. I think I’m pretty good at making it out alive, don’t you?” Din said, his tone light in an attempt to cheer you up, before he placed an achingly soft kiss on your forehead. But despite his gentle gesture, your anguished mind continued its journey to the worst possible conclusions.

“It’s not about how skilled you are, Din!” You exclaimed, a little harsher than you intended. You were spiralling now, frantically gulping air into your lungs to get the words out as your mind raced. “We don’t know what’s out there… the galaxy, there are so many threats. What about Thrawn and–”

“Shhh, shhhh, cyare. Please… that dark place in your mind with all of your worst fears… don’t go there,” Din said as his arms squeezed your waist tightly, before he reached for the back of your head and brought you against his warm, firm chest.

You stayed in that position for a few minutes, regaining your composure as your shaky sobs grew more infrequent and then eventually stopped. Then you drew your head back, looking up into the handsome, sympathetic face of the man you loved so deeply.

“I’m sorry, Din,” You whispered, shaking your head in frustration at how you had let your emotions get the better of you.

“You don’t need to apologise to me,” Din whispered, cupping your jaw and smiling softly at you, relieved that you had finally stopped sobbing and could manage making eye contact with him.

“I just can’t imagine my life without you,” You sighed.

“Well, don’t imagine that, cyare,” Din pleaded, his voice firm but quiet, as he added: “Don’t borrow grief from the future.”

You felt your eyes water at such beautiful words. It was a poignant way to relate to the uncertainty about what lay ahead in yours and Din’s lives. The Mandalorian you loved occasionally delivered such profound quotes that you felt almost overwhelmed by the depth and weight that his words carried. You just stared at him, completely awestruck.

Din’s perceptiveness of the world around him, with his analytical mind and how well he managed to articulate himself, filled you with such a deep sense of wonder that it was difficult to suppress the tears you had only just managed to halt.

“I won’t, Din,” You nodded, letting out a shaky breath. “I promise.”

“You know I will never truly leave you,” Din whispered. “Even if something terrible were ever to happen, I’d find a way to be with you again. Wherever we go after all this ends, I’ll be with you. Do you believe that?”

“Of course, I do, Din,” You nodded, hoping you managed to convey the certainty with which you believed his vow.

You knew that once Din Djarin set his mind to something, anyone who threatened to drive a wedge between him and that objective would curse the day they made such an unwise decision.

"Good. I'm not going anywhere, cyare. I'll be with you, always,” Din said as he stroked your cheeks tenderly with his thumbs, before leaning in to kiss your forehead softly. You closed your eyes and sighed at the contact, the emotion of the moment took your breath away. “Are you ready to get comfortable and try to get some more rest? I expect we’ll be able to manage a few more hours before the little womp rat bursts his way in here to wake us up.”

“Yes, Din,” You giggled at the affectionate nickname Din had for his son. The love you both held for that little boy was boundless.

Din lay back down on the cot and you rested your cheek on his bare chest, feeling instantly soothed at the skin-to-skin contact and the rhythmic beats of his heart.

In the harrowing nightmare that had left you so devastated, Din had left you all alone. He had been taken from you abruptly by forces unknown. But as you lay there, feeling your eyelids grow heavy as you listened to the faint thundering emanating from deep below in his chest… Din was very much by your side. You sighed, a small smile ghosting across your features.

You knew with absolute certainty that despite whatever forces conspired against you, in this galaxy or any, Din Djarin would be with you… always.

#my fics #din djarin fic #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x reader #pedro pascal characters #the mandalorian fanfiction #when people say fanfic is self indulgent YEAH they're talking about this sjhg wrote this for me but i hope others enjoy #save me din djarin...... din djarin save me..... save me din djarin...#din djarin fluff

160 notes · View notes

canonicallyobserving911 · 3 months ago

Text

"I can't stop thinking about him."

Fanonwriter2023 on AO3

Where CANON and FANON collide!

New Buddie Fanfic in the "What do you want?" A Series of Fics and Ficlets

The 4th fic in the "What do you want?" Series in now available on AO3. "I can't stop thinking about him." - Buck and Eddie are trying to move on but they can’t stop thinking about each other.

"I can't stop thinking about him." - 8.1K Words; Rated: Teen and Up Audiences

___________

Here's two snippets from this part of the series. One includes Buck having a conversation with someone from the past and Eddie's includes a conversation he's having with someone new but it's about Buck.

___________

Buck

“Exactly! We get to experience those rushes every day because we specialize in them and the 325 is a new division within the LAFD.”

“I wonder why Bobby didn’t mention it.”

“Hmm… I’m not sure but if I’m remembering correctly, the 118 is like family and you all are codependent as hell. But anyway, where’s Diaz?”

Buck sighs but he recovers quickly and responds, “He had other plans.”

She laughs out loud.

“What’s so funny?” He asks with raised eyebrows.

~~~

Eddie

Chuck nods then he glances at Eddie but when Eddie keeps his eyes forward instead of looking back at him, he returns his attention to the road and asks, “What about the other guy, the tall one who’s about my height. Who is he?”

That question makes Eddie turn his head to look at him. He inhales then replies, “That’s Buck. He’s my partner… I—I mean my work partner. We’ve been working together for almost 7 years.”

“Buck? Is that short for Evan Buckley?”

“Yeah but he goes by Buck.”

“Hmm… I’m trying to figure out why his name sounds familiar…” He trails off when he remembers why and he decides not to continue.

Who is Buck talking to? 🙃

Why is Eddie talking to Chuck about Buck? 👀

___________

"What do you want?" - A Series of Ficlets

Currently 4 works completed; 21.5K Words: Rated; Teen and Up Audiences: This is a series of “Fics and Ficlets” that I’ll be writing over the course of the next few weeks and my goal is to keep them under a certain number of words. I’m challenging myself to do it this way for multiple reasons but mainly because I want to see if I can write a full Buddie story by including smaller fics in a series in comparison to the multi-chapter fic I’m still in the process of writing titled, “I’m still in love with you but… I needed to learn how to love myself too!” I only have 9 chapters left before I finish it but once I’m done, I’d like to continue writing Buddie fanfics. However, this time I’ll start with my dislike for the way season 7 ended instead of the way season 6 did. Finally, I have a lot of WIPs that I want to finish and I figured I can turn them all into one shot fics or ficlets to build the full story for Buck and Eddie.

Since these ficlets will be posted in order, it’s imperative to read them one after the other. Each part ends at a specific point with a cliffhanger and the next part will begin with the ending of the previous part. Therefore, parts 1 - 3 should be read prior to reading part 4 and the series will continue in that manner until it’s complete.

"You don't know math!" - 3.3K Words; Rated Teen and Up Audiences: Buck is forced to choose while Eddie might be presented with another option.

"Math is a universal language." - 5K Words; Rated: Teen and Up Audiences: Eddie reconnects with an old acquaintance and they spend a lot of time together. However, now that Buck’s single, he finally tries to understand math is a universal language but when he sees Eddie talking to another guy, he wonders if it took him too long to figure it out.

“You know, it’s like that thing when you meet somebody and you just… click.” - 5.1K Words; Rated: Teen and Up Audiences: When Buck comes face to face with Eddie’s new friend; he hates it but since he’s only told Maddie about his breakup with Tommy, Eddie’s still under the impression he’s taken. Therefore, Eddie makes plans to spend even more time with his new acquaintance.

"I can't stop thinking about him." - 8.1K Words; Rated: Teen and Up Audiences: Buck and Eddie are trying to move on but they can’t stop thinking about each other.

Now Available on AO3

#buddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley #christopher diaz #the buckley diaz family #buckley diaz family #buddie fanfic #ao3 fanfic #911 fanfic #Fanonwriter2023 on AO3 #Hiatus Reading #“What do you want?” - A Series of Fics and Ficlets #Part 4 is now available on AO3 #Anti Tommy Kinard - fanfic #Anti bucktommy - fanfic #anti kim the doppelganger - fanfic #anti eddiekim - fanfic #anti marisol - fanfic

16 notes · View notes

procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics · 1 year ago

Text

Vikings (TV) Masterlist

my requests for vikings are currently partially OPEN! please only request imagines, and not oneshots. for those waiting for a continuation of ‘searching home’ or ‘unexpected’ i am so sorry... finishing those two is going to take me a while :/

hmu/msg me to be added to a taglist!

main masterlist | request guidelines

heorte til heorte

(msg me to be added to the taglist!)

relationship: athelstan x alethia stahl (oc) | summary: alethia wanted to go home, to return to her family. instead, she finds herself in ninth-century england. not speaking the language, and still processing the grief of her other life, she searches for an anchor - athelstan. | tags: angst, fluff, timetravel

masterlist | preview | read on ao3

No romantic relationships // character x character

Queendom - relationship: Lagertha x Aslaug | summary: They’ve both loved and they’ve both lost. Perhaps it was time that their hearts warmed again. | tags: angst, fluff

The Lothbroks, aka, the European version of the Kardashians - relationships: none | summary: When Barbie Murray time travels, she finds out that pink isn’t available in Viking times. Luckily, her new besties all understand that boobs are the best and slay (literally?!) with her. | tags: crack, fluff, timetravel

I may be a bimbo, but I’m not stupid - relationships: slight oc/ oc | summary: Ivar kills Sigurd in a fit of rage, but Barbie isn't so quick to forgive cruelness. | tags: angst, crack, timetravel

1st gen Vikings

Strange Woman relationship: Rollo x timetraveler!reader | summary: The woman that appeared out of nowhere could be oh so dangerous, but even a stupid man would know that she was fascinating. | tags: fluff, timetravel

Friend of Thor - relationship: rollo x timetraveler!asgardian!reader | summary: The reader, a fellow Asgardian and friend of Thor and the new King of Asgard, Brunnhilde, falls through worlds as the new guardian of the Bifrost tampers with the magic. | tags: crack, fluff, timetravel

And the Gods wished they were me - relationship: Judith x viking!gn!reader | summary: Judith knows she should not mourn Athelstan. Nor should she even look at Norse heathens. She does both anyway, because Judith was named after a woman that had only rage and death, and she cannot escape her fate. | tags: angst, fluff

Ubbe Ragnarsson

Another day / part 2 - relationship: Ubbe x reader | prompt: we live to fight another day. | tags: angst

Oldest - relationship: Ubbe x timetraveler!reader; platonic!Ivar x reader | summary: It seems that few things change about being the oldest sibling, no matter which place – or time | tags: fluff, timetravel, slight angst

Yggdrasil relationship: Ubbe x reader; platonic!Ivar x reader; dad!Harald x reader | summary: How can you tell your father what happened to you when he’d done it to so many others. | tags: angst, dark/gory

Hvitserk 'Whiteshirt' Ragnarsson

Hvitserksdottir - relationship: Hvitserk x reader | prompt: “I think we need to talk about the fact that I’m in love with you and also that I’m pregnant.” | tags: angst, fluff

Floki’s Cabin - relationship: Hvitserk x reader | prompt: “Just trust me. Please. | tags: angst

Searching Home / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 - relationships: Hvitserk x reader; Ivar x reader | summary: When you stumble upon the ancient Spanish city of Algeciras, it takes you some time to realize that you’ve traveled through time. While that is terrible luck, a merchant couple takes you in. But your peace only lasts so long. | tags: angst, fluff, dark/gory, timetravel

Neither - relationship: genderfluid!reader x Hvitserk | Summary: Hvitserk finds out about genderfluidity and accepts he might not be completely straight | tags: fluff, timetravel

Law of conservation - relationship: Hvitserk x reader | summary: You’ve been working as a tutor at your high school for about a year now. When your parents throw a barbecue party for your new neighbors, their mother Aslaug asks you to tutor her son Hvitserk, who is already a notorious flirt at his school. | tags: fluff

Sandcastles - relationship: platonic!hvitserk x timetraveler!reader | summary: reader builds sandcastles, Ivar doesn’t get it and Hvitserk loves the idea of it | tags: fluff, timetravel

When in Bali... - relationships: hvitserk x reader, ivar x freydís, sigurd x oc | summary: You were supposed to go to Bali with your partner for your one-year anniversary. Instead, you’re there alone, heartbroken. Will reuniting with a friend you know from a summer vacation in elementary school be able to fix it? | tags: fluff

Ivar 'the Boneless' Ragnarsson

Unholy Matrimony - A Sham in Four Acts / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 - relationship: Ivar x reader | prompt: I’ve learnt to love you. | tags: angst, fluff smut

Insatiable Little Heathens - relationship: ivar x reader | summary: drabble, for all of y’all who wanted more of Unholy Matrimony | tags: fluff

Resolve - relationship: ivar x reader | summary: Ivar’s legs hurt but he’s so fucking thickheaded | tags: fluff

My kind of witch - relationship: ivar x reader | summary: You wake up in an unfamiliar bed. The man with blazing blue eyes fascinates you as soon as you see him and as you realize the struggles he faces every day, your admiration for him grows into something more. | tags: fluff, timetravel

Red - relationship: ivar x reader | summary: Ivar finally meets his match. | tags: smut, dark/gory

Serve - relationship: sub!ivar x buff!reader | summary: Ivar keeps teasing you. You finally have enough and give him a taste of his own medicine | tags: smut

Searching home / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 - relationships: Hvitserk x reader; Ivar x reader | summary: When you stumble upon the ancient Spanish city of Algeciras, it takes you some time to realize that you’ve traveled through time. While that is terrible luck, a merchant couple takes you in. But your peace only lasts so long. | tags: angst, fluff, smut, dark/gory, timetravel

Totally artistic - relationship: ivar x reader | summary: When inspiration hits, you can’t stop it | tags: fluff

Sandcastles - relationship: platonic!hvitserk, ivar x timetraveler!reader | summary: reader builds sandcastles, Ivar doesn’t get it and Hvitserk loves the idea of it | tags: fluff, timetravel

Brother - relationships: ivar x reader, hvitserk & reader, reader & oc | summary: You left your home and your brother behind for a reason. Now, a man is causing trouble at the borders of Kattegat, and as Ivar's queen, you take justice into your own hands. | tags: fluff

Unexpected / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 - relationship: ivar x thrall!reader | summary: Ivar finally decides to fuck the slave he’s been eyeing for so long, but when his angry side slips out, things take a turn for the wholly unexpected. | tags: smut

Tarot - relationships: ivar x reader, hvitserk & reader | summary: Your day at the fair has been pretty slow – until a client like no other shows up. | tags: fluff

Imagines

How the Vikings would react to an accidental time traveler and a quiz to see if you’d survive: https://uquiz.com/dVXpgW

Ragnarssons (+Gyda): First Kiss

Social Media

How the Vikings would react to guns and snapchat filters

How the Vikings would react to modern dancing

How the Vikings would react to modern music, and what they’d like

How the Vikings would react to modern concepts of astronomy and space

How the Vikings react to modern haircare

Vikings and Astrology

How Vikings would react to THEM timetraveling

Vikings + getting sick

Vikings + Halloween

Vikings + realizing you’re pregnant

Vikings characters + how they'd react to finding Accidental Time Traveler crying somewhere and not knowing why

Vikings + you on your period (+ more hcs about Ivar)

Vikings + Legos

Vikings + reader being much less stressed in their time

Vikings + single mother

Vikings + Gender Neutral Thor

Vikings + modern food

Vikings + touch avoidant cuddler

Vikings + Kids

Vikings + their history

Ragnarssons + being possesive

Vikings + Maleficent/Fae!reader

Vikings + curls and afros

Vikings + sleeping habits

Vikings + contortionist/super flexible reader

Vikings as modern!uni students

Vikings + affectionate drunk!reader

timetraveling!Vikings + modern tv/movies

Vikings + gen z slang

Vikings + curly haired kids

timetraveling!Vikings + Christmas

Vikings + eras other than their own

Vikings + ivar being remembered/famous

#vikings #ivar #ivar x reader #hvitserk #hvitserk x reader #ubbe #ubbe x reader #ivar ragnarsson x reader #ivar ragnarsson #hvitserk ragnarsson #hvitserk ragnarsson x reader #ivar the boneless #ivar the boneless x reader #history vikings #vikings imagine

573 notes · View notes

itsgrimeytime · 7 months ago

Text

drunk on you (epilogue) || Rick Grimes (TWD) × gn!reader (no apocalypse!AU)

rick grimes taglist: @golden-hoax @mgparker

series taglist: @ryoujoking @zomb-1-egutzz

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

AVAILABLE ON AO3

Summary: You'd known Rick forever, as far back as freshman year. He was a guy you (if you were honest) had a crush on; there was just something in his stance and the low drawl of his voice. You'd say that feeling only got worse from there. Before you could blink, he was married and had a kid; and suddenly, despite your best efforts, you felt very out of place. You faded out of his life, and he yours. So when Rick shows up at your door (drunk out of his mind) about 5 years after the last time you spoke to him, you have a lot of questions.

TWs: vague allusion to sex.

[[A/N: I cannot stop watching this gif fr. So pretty. So sad to be ending it but it is perfectly wrapped up. Thank you to all who loved it. Enjoy :))]]

You woke up that morning warm, comforter neatly wrapped around you -all white and plush. The mattress was perfectly holding you in place just like it always did. But somehow, you still felt cold.

You reached your hand out, patting the mattress on his side of the bed, empty. You furrowed your eyebrows, peeking your eyes open; they flickered across the bedsheets. The comforter was pulled back, and he was decidedly not there.

"Rick?" You mumbled out, pulling yourself to the end of the bed, grabbing your ring, and slipping it onto your finger.

You stood then, adjusting your pajamas (an old pair of his), and padded your way through your bedroom. Hardwood cool under your feet, you slowly made your way out into the hallway.

Fingers drifting along the walls, you blearily blinked the sleepy fuzz out of your eyes. Attention catching elsewhere, you heard two things: the sizzling of breakfast, and the low murmur of voices like they didn't want to wake you.

"Rick?" You asked, again -although, at this point, you definitely knew where he was.

Lining the walls, your eyes caught onto a slew of photos. There was some of everybody, your eyes dipped particularly to Carl's graduation. Cap and gown, Rick on one side and you on the other, all three of you were smiling. Something in your chest warmed.

You turned the corner into the dining room, eyes smoothing across the empty table before you guided yourself into the kitchen -following the smell and the voices. The white cabinets shined in the morning light, and as you expected, Rick, still in his pajamas stood at the stove. And just beside him-

"Carl, baby, oh my god-" you rushed forward, gathering up the tall, now, man into a hug, "-how are you? How's school?"

"Good, good. Everything's good," Carl laughed, eagerly accepting your hug -he was so tall now. Your eyes darted along his face, taking him in. All the changes, you still remember him when he was just a little baby, all wrapped up in your arms.

"I like the hair too, by the way," you smiled, gently fixing it on his head -instinctively.

He was growing it out, dressed as casually as could be in some of Rick's old stuff. You would recognize it anywhere, you just didn't know if it was from his high school or young adult days. Wordlessly, you straightened the flannel over his shirt.

"Alright, Y/N," he laughed again, playfully, "-I think I'm all fixed up."

"Sorry," you apologized, "-It's a force of habit. You know your Dad."

Rick spun to you then -long hair mussed, but curled at the ends with a salt and pepper stubble climbing up his cheeks. Your very own Rick.

"'Ey," he spoke, defensively, "-I'm right 'ere."

To prove your point, you ran a hair through his hair -fixing the mess from where he must've woken up, and pulled slightly at his shirt -straightening the collar. It was almost out of instinct, and he seemed to expect it -standing perfectly still.

Rick grinned at you the same way he always did, you still felt your heart skip a beat even now. You doubted it would ever go away. Before you could turn back to Carl, instead Rick got your attention.

Gently placing the spatula down, he turned to you ever-so-slightly and opened up his arms.

You laughed, a little -the routine.

And with unhesitating steps, patted on over to him -wrapping your arms around his chest and placing your head on his shoulder. Still woodsy, still Rick. You could feel him chuckle, reverberating through his chest -bright and twinkly.

With a breath, he pressed a kiss on top of your head, "Mornin', baby."

"You guys are still gross, good to know."

"'S love," Rick corrected, slipping his hands over your shoulders, "-if 'at's gross ya got a bleak future, Carl."

"Hey," you swatted at his chest, almost in warning -Carl had a very bright future.

Rick laughed, pressing another kiss to the top of your head, "He knows I don't mean it, don't ya?"

"Yeah, yeah," Carl laughed, dismissively waving his hand, before retorting, "-I can't be 'ere for long, Dad. Breakfast almost done?"

You let go of Rick, mindlessly pressing a kiss to his cheek. He grinned, even though it happened everyday.

"Why are you here?"

Carl smiled, bringing you into another hug, "For a special occasion, Y/N, plus, Dad asked me to be here."

"Think it as a gift," he mumbled out, before siphoning off eggs -scrambled.

You almost said for what exactly, but then it suddenly struck you.

"Shit, really?" You asked, scurrying up to the calendar hung up on the wall. And there it was, circled with little doodled hearts.

"Happy 10 years, baby," Rick smiled big and bright, gathering you up in his arms -gently swaying in place.

You started laughing with movement, "That long? Jesus. How long have we had the house?"

"'Bout year 3," Rick answered, quickly pressing his lips to yours -just a surface level kiss.

You remembered the day he'd showed you.

He wouldn't let you come on the land, ever, wouldn't let you help, nothing.

"I'm buildin' it for ya, you'll see it at the end."

And then, one day, years ago, he'd dragged you out of the apartment with a blindfold, put you in the car and drove you all the way to the house. You remember the grass scratching your legs and the creak of the trees. And then, just seeing it.

All white walls, and big porch, and windows, and just... everything.

"Shit," you repeated -coming back to the moment.

"What?" He teased, "-Had enough of me, 'ave ya?"

"No, just-" you went a little quiet, just looking at him, "-I can still remember you showing up at my door, wasted, after five years."

"You're always gonna be holdin' on to the drunk thin', ain't ya?"

"Yes," you patted his cheek, "-and I will forever."

Rick grinned at that -something twinkling in his eyes. Even now, he couldn't wait for forever with you. You couldn't either.

"Breakfast?" Carl repeated -acting a little annoyed, but you could tell he wasn't. Not really.

"Yeah, yeah," Rick rolled his eyes, letting you go and grabbing the plates -guiding all of you into the dining room.

Carl left soon after that, promising to come back after the semester just for a visit. He'd had an apartment in the city, just like yours. Ready to go and pursue his dreams, just like you did. The two of you followed him to the car, wishing him well, and your own very cautious, be safe. He rolled his eyes but still promised you.

You and Rick stood outside, watching the car disappear down the driveway. He held you tight to his side, cool wind brushing over your skin but not exactly cold. You didn't mind being by his side though, never would.

With a sigh, you turned back to the house -his arm still wrapped around you. You felt the thrum of his body heat against your side -he always was like a furnace.

Your eyes settled along it, taking it in.

"I still can't believe you built me a house."

Rick laughed, looking at you -blue eyes twinkly, "You were the one who suggested it!"

"Was I?" You paused, trying to think back.

"Oh yeah," he turned you toward him -gently holding your shoulders, "-I was talkin' about me imaginin' a future wit' ya, a big white house-"

You smiled at him.

"-and you said we could build one."

You remembered then, his big smooth smile and those eyes. He'd just looked at you like you were everything he wanted, and he'd give you anything to keep you. That was a big day.

"Okay, yes," you finally responded,"-but I was joking, Grimes."

"Were ya?" He hummed, that sort of mischievous grin he'd always given you, "-'Couldn't tell."

"Liar," you shot back.

"Okay, fine," he conceded, "-You said it an' I realized how much I wanted to. For you. For us, I guess."

You pursed your lips, before patting him on the cheek, gently, "Sap."

"Just the way ya like it," he quipped, grin bright.

"You know," you started, as he pulled you into his side again -the two of you making your way inside again, "-sometimes I think about what we would've been like together in high school."

"Do ya?"

"Yeah," you replied -thoughtfully, "-because if you're sappy now. Imagine you in puppy love."

"Hmm," he hummed, "-ya probably wouldn't 'ave doodled in all those notebooks if we 'ad, huh?"

"First of all, I would've doodled twice as much, and secondly-" he laughed at you, "-what is with you and those notebooks?"

"'S nice," he responded, softly, "-you loved me then, and I didn't even kno'. I keep one of 'em in my wallet, actually, reminds me how lucky I am to be 'ere. Because I was such a dumbass back then."

You laughed a little, before pausing -realizing, "Wait. You keep one in your wallet?"

"Yea', I never told ya?"

"There's no way you're telling the truth right now," you laughed -a bit astonished, "-a doodle? Really? From high school-"

He stopped walking just under the porch, moving his arm to pull out his wallet (he always brought it everywhere, even in his pajamas), and flipped it open.

With a breath, he dug behind his license in the clear little pocket, "'Keep it behind my license, so it don't get tore up. Or smeared."

"Rick."

"Look," he pulled a tiny little piece of lined paper out -extending it to you, "-I ain't a liar."

"Rick," you nearly cooed.

You flipped it in between your fingers, you even knew the pen you'd drawn it in. It was one of your favorites, and it didn't smear, so you don't know why he was worried about that. A part of you couldn't believe it. But right there, over the blue lines was a big heart, and on the inside two words.

Y/N Grimes

"You really keep this in your wallet?" You asked in awe, gently pinching the paper between your fingers.

"I just pulled it out infront of ya, baby-"

"Well, yeah, but-" you laughed in defense, "-you could be looking for extra brownie points on our anniversary."

Rick paused, holding your eyes, "Ya think I'd do 'at?"

"For the right motivator," you defended, "-yes."

He quirked a brow, a smirk smoothing across his lips -you knew the look, "What kinda motivator, darlin'?"

"Stop you," you swatted his shoulder, "-you were just being sweet."

He laughed at you a moment, before countering, "'Could still be sweet."

"Rick," you warned.

"Just sayin'."

"Rick."

"Okay, okay," he hummed -taking his hands to cup your face, "-gimme a break, I'm bein' sweet."

"Yes, you are," you smiled, handing it back to him, "-Now, I have to know, do you keep them stashed anywhere else?"

"Whaddya mean, baby?"

"Don't play dumb," you accused, his eyes slinking over you in a certain kind of way.

"Ya know what," he tapped his chin, thoughtfully, playfully really, "-I think... I think I might 'ave some stashed in the bedroom."

"Rick," you laughed, "-are you really doing this right now?"

"Doin' what?" He questioned, innocently.

"Rick."

"I'm just answerin' your question," he smiled, bringing your face closer to his, "-I do think I 'ave some stashed in the bedroom."

"Let me guess," you quipped, "-on the bed?"

He grinned at you, teasingly, and dropped his hands down to your waist, "How'd ya know?"

"Grimes," you sighed out, fingers coming up to twirl into his hair, "-you are just so very predictable."

"Am I?"

"Very much so," you hummed.

"Can ya predict what's gonna happen next," he was a breath away from your face, "-Grimes?"

"I can think of a few things."

And then, with a laugh and a few spare kisses, he picked you up like he always did and brought you inside the house. Laughter bubbling out your chest and kissing the man you loved, you realized it then.

Five years was just a speck in your life. Those five years were nothing, not compared to this. To Rick, to your life now. And a part of you wished you'd gotten it back, gotten it all sooner.

Well, you smiled big and wide -arms wrapped around his neck, this is kinda perfect now, isn't it?

Rick smiled at you then, kicking the door shut without even looking away. Only looking at you, a little like you were everything. His everything. And for a second, you thought maybe you were.

Yeah, you decided, you wouldn't want it any other way.

#drunk on you #its griming time #rick grimes #stuff n' thangs #rick grimes x reader #rick grimes x y/n #rick grimes x you #rick grimes x y/n fanfiction #rick grimes oneshot

121 notes · View notes

da-rulah · 6 months ago

Text

The Mayor's Daughter - Mary Goore x f!Reader [Part 6]

Summary: It was only a matter of time before you asked to see Mary's band, but he can't help the rising anxiety that you might just hate what he does… Still, he concedes, and you head to their show with him. If you thought Mary was hot before, oh boy… Now he's irresistible.

Rating: Explicit, 18+

Word Count: 12.3k

Warnings: Teasing, sexual tension, cum play, sexual harassment, unwanted physical contact, use of a homophobic slur, violence, oral sex (m receiving), throat fucking, masturbation (f), cum swallowing, cum play

ALSO AVAILABLE ON AO3 | MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

A/N: Well, look who's back... Mary's here. 😈 Thank you to all those who've waited to patiently for this next chapter. I hope you won't be disappointed... As always, thank you to me besties @her-satanic-wiles and @angellayercake for their encouragement and beta reading services - I adore you both.

AND, this one's dedicated to @kissingghouls, who had a birthday during the week and tested a little snippet of this chapter out for me 👀 I hope you love the rest of it 💕

You could have lay there all night. Truthfully, you couldn’t think of anywhere else in the world you’d rather be right now besides buried in blankets and pillows in Mary’s arms, looking out at the moon rippling across the water of the lake. The radio still played from the cab of his van, and you were content to listen to Mary singing along to his favourite songs under his breath.

You could feel him vibrating beneath you as he sang, your back pressed to his chest and laying against him between his legs. Every so often, he’d press a kiss to the side of your head, or readjust the way his hands lay across your stomach with his fingers intertwined with yours. You were just so comfortable, never having felt so safe and wanted before.

“Do you sing in your band, too?” you asked him, fiddling with the rings on his fingers absentmindedly.

“Hm? Oh, uh... Yeah I guess I do.” You turned your head to look at him, suspicion creasing your brow.

“You guess?”

“Well, it’s kinda more... growling? Some screaming. Bit of singing,” he shrugged, a little sheepish.

“Aw, and here’s me thinking I was the only one you growled for,” you teased, which earned you a laugh.

“Well you’re the only one who can drag it outta me like that,” he flirted, bouncing his eyebrows and planting a lingering kiss to the top of your cheek.

You got comfortable again, settling into his chest and wrapping his arms tighter around you. A few moments of blissful quiet passed as you thought about him on stage; what would he sound like? Look like? Was he good? You wanted to know.

“I wanna see you play,” you said earnestly. “when are you playing next?”

Mary clammed up a little behind you, suddenly wracked with insecurity and anxiety at the thought of you coming to one of his gigs. It’d feel pretty shitty if you didn’t like his music, and he was very aware that it wasn’t for everyone. While you never complained at the heavier stations on his van radio, you also didn’t strike him as the type to enjoy death metal. You were merely being polite, he was sure of it...

But then, this was him stereotyping again. Consciously now, he could see it and call himself out before the words left his mouth.

“Uh... We actually have one on Saturday.” You noticed the nervousness in his tone, the hesitation. You understood why; it must be a little scary to show someone you care about the passion that drives you as fiercely as music drove Mary.

“I don’t have to come if that’s too soon, I get it,” you tried to reassure him, turning around and smiling sweetly at him. But even that was enough to quell some of his anxiety, just your consideration.

“You know what?” he sat upright then, angling you a little better while the blankets wrapped around you fell to your waist, exposing you both to the colder night air. “I want you there. Even if you hate us, be nice to see a pretty face out there for me.”

You rolled your eyes at him playfully, “You just want a groupie, huh?”

“Hmm, maybe,” he hummed, grinning cheekily and leaning into you to press his lips to yours. You giggled against his lips, letting him curl around you as you melted into each other. It felt so easy to you now, so unbelievably natural. You had to ask yourself why you had taken so long to get here. You could have had this all long, if the pair of you weren’t so stuck in those stereotypical little bubbles of yours.

But you were here now, and that’s what mattered. Not without its future flaws, you were sure, but it was a start.

Mary finished off the last song of practise without issue. By now, the band knew every song inside and out, so band practise was only ever a formality, or an excuse to get together and jam. But Davey always called one just before a show, in case there were any issues to iron out and to put together a running order for the setlist. He had a unit where they practised often, all their stage equipment stored in there save for their guitars.

“So where you been, Goore? Dropped off the face of the earth lately. Last time I saw you was days ago at the garage...” Forrest smirked with an accusation brewing behind his eyes – Mary could tell. He continued winding up the cable in his hands to avoid his eye contact, shaking his head with a smile he could barely hide no matter how hard he tried. That’s what thinking of you did to him.

“Ah y’know, about,” he avoided.

“Bullshit, you got a call and bolted. I remember.”

Mary’s arms slumped by his sides in exasperation, the curled up cable flapping against his thigh.

“Yeah, and before that last time we saw you was the bicentennial... Fuck’s up with you?” Jed was interested now, shoving his drumsticks into his beat up old backpack that had seen better days. Even Davey who was slotting his bass into its case very carefully – that thing was his baby, often reminding everyone it cost more than their rents combined – was suddenly very interested in where the elusive Mary Goore had been the last couple of weeks.

“You can’t even hide the smile. It’s a girl, ain’t it?” he chimed in, teasing him like a kid in a playground. “You gone soft?”

“Nah just had a lot of guitars to work on at the shop lately,” Mary shrugged, tucking the cable away into his own guitar case.

“Your pants are scorching right now, Mare...” Jed grinned, hopping up to sit on an amp stack.

Mary finally stood up straight and sighed, looking around at the guys who all had expectant looks on their faces. He knew he’d have to tell them eventually – they were only going to meet you in a few days anyway. He can’t hide you forever, especially when he’d been so sensitive about being hidden himself in your world... He was many things, but a hypocrite he was not.

“Alright, fine... Yeah, there’s a girl.” The nerves were evident in his voice, quieter and a little stuttery. Of course, the guys all jumped down his throat with “ooh”s and “wheeey”s, Jed even shoving his shoulder in a weird masculine display of celebration.

“Been holed up somewhere with some broad, ey?” he waggled his eyebrows at him. “Come on then, who is she?”

Mary was clamming up, having no idea how they were going to react to this. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and shuffled on his feet. Forrest noticed his change, and squinted at him as he observed.

This wasn’t like him. Forrest was the most mature of the guys, had known Mary the longest – since they were kids – and he was very aware there were multiple versions of him. The front he showed the world, and the sensitive and broken guy underneath. Seeing him get nervous about a girl though... that had never happened before.

“You wouldn’t really know her, she’s not really... from our circle...” Mary dodged the truth as long as he could, but it was inevitable.

“Yeah no shit, between us we’ve exhausted our “circle”,” Davey laughed, making air quotes with his fingers. Mary winced at the thought of his promiscuous reputation; not a past he was all that proud of...

“You remember back at the bar, a few weeks ago...?” he started, and Jed jumped in immediately.

“That girl you stormed right past? You went back?” He leaned forward where he sat on the amp, excited to hear the gory details he definitely was not getting.

“No-”

“No fucking way,” Davey jumped in, recalling the night in question. “You’re still fucking her majesty?”

“She’s not-” Mary tried to get a word in, but Davey and Jed were having too much fun with this, interrupting him.

“The Mayor’s daughter? Fuckin’ hell, Mare,” he laughed with uncontained glee at the prospect. “I know she’s a hot piece of ass, but seriously? Girls like her ain’t into guys like us.”

Mary’s fists clenched at his sides. It was becoming clear the stereotypes were not contained to just you and him, but you’d both grown up in a world perpetuated by them. Forrest watched the scene unfold quietly, observing Mary’s reactions that were so out of pocket for him.

“Well she did fuck him in a public bathroom that night, Jed,” Davey joined Jed’s delight. “Daddy’s girl’s got a kinky side.”

“Shut the fuck up, Davey,” Forrest interjected on Mary’s behalf. Everyone’s heads whipped toward him, including Mary’s. “Fucking neanderthals, man...” The smiles from their faces were wiped clean, their proverbial tails hanging between their legs.

Forrest walked to stand beside Mary, folding his arms across his chest. “This could be a dangerous game to play, Mare. If her dad finds out...”

“He already kicked her out. For... other reasons...” Mary didn’t want to divulge too much of your shit to them, that wasn’t his place. He feared he’d already said too much when he saw the looks of shock and confusion on their faces. “She’s been staying with me the last few days.”

“Move pretty quick, don’t you?” laughed Jed, who was thrown a look of caution by Forrest and immediately shut up again with a mumbled, “sorry”.

“So you like her then, huh?” Forrest enquired with a smug smile. Mary nodded, biting his thumb nail. “She coming to the show?”

Jed snickered at the thought, effectively saying “yeah, as if she’d be into our music” without having to say the actual words. Mary shot him a warning glare.

“Yeah, she is actually,” he didn’t take his eyes off Jed, just begging him to say one more shitty thing. He didn’t.

“Nice, well I’ll train the apes up and have ‘em civilised for the lady. Don’t worry about it.” Forrest slapped a hand on Mary’s back in support, heading back over to pack up and clicking his fingers in the other’s direction to get them moving too.

Mary was grateful for Forrest stepping in like that. There was a deeper bond with him than the others, not just on account of the longevity of their friendship, but he’d been there through all of Mary’s shit. For a long time, Forrest was the only friend he had and if anybody understood him, it was him.

Forrest had his own shit too – neglectful parents, like Mary, but in different ways. High-powered, career driven types. They’d leave him with a nanny and swan off on business trips and fancy vacations, so he knew loneliness in his own way too.

While his friends were always a good laugh, Davey and Jed just weren’t on quite the same wavelength. Where Forrest and Mary had matured a little, grown up with a smidge of respect, they were trailing behind. They were still young men, trapped in rebellion, angst and male bravado. They needed reigning in from time to time, usually by Mary’s or Forrest’s hand but on more than one occasion they’d had their asses kicked outside a bar for their mouth. The point is, they were learning. Slowly, but they were learning...

Once the guys packed up their stuff – largely in silence – Davey and Jed muttered a ‘see ya later’ as they filtered out of the unit, but Forrest hung back as Mary rolled down the shutters and padlocked them shut.

“Hey Mare, does uh... Does she know?” Forrest asked, his voice low as the others walked down the alley of other units just ahead of them.

“Know what?” he asked, a little confused. “That you guys made a bet with me the first night? Yeah she knew that then, we laughed about it,” he shrugged.

“No, I didn’t mean that,” Forrest scratched the back of his head awkwardly. He hated bringing this up, it was such a sore subject for Mary... “Does she know... what her dad did?”

Mary’s eyes widened as it hit him – no, you didn’t know that. Mary hadn’t divulged that much to you, and he didn’t exactly intend to...

“No. She doesn’t need to,” he shrugged nonchalantly, avoiding the subject. Forrest didn’t press the matter, not wanting to drag Mary down that road any more than he already had. Instead, they took a few steps in silence.

“So go on then, tell me what she’s like...” Forrest nudged his shoulder as the two of them walked out to the parking lot. Mary smiled at the ground, babbling and singing your praises for as long as Forrest would allow him.

Watching Mary apply his make-up was becoming one of your favourite past times. He was so particular about it, specifically tonight as he applied it in the dingy little mirror in the corner of their dressing room. Day to day, he cared a little less but tonight was important – every gig was, to him.

It became very apparent to you very quickly that he took his shows very seriously. As much as he was there to have fun, this was more than just a hobby to him. He wanted this to go somewhere, to make something of himself. This was a dream that he’d worked his skinny little ass off for, and so everything had to be just right, his before-show rituals performed the same as always.

But there you sat, watching him from the battered two-seater couch in the room as he added the final touches to his skull paint. He pulled back from the mirror, looking at his reflection and smirking with a nod of satisfaction. But then he caught you in that mirror behind him, watching him without an attempt to look away.

“Lookin’ good, Goore,” you told him, leaning forward on your elbows, chin resting in your palm.

“I guess, but it’s missing something...” He seemed unbothered, making no move to add any more paints.

“The blood, right?” you asked, but he shrugged.

“Wanna try something new. Get over here, doll,” he instructed, beckoning you over. You rose from your seat, closing the distance between you both. He leaned back onto the sink, folding his arms over his chest as you got a little closer than necessary, stood between his feet and leaning your hands on the edges of the sink. Mere inches separated you, and you waited for him to continue.

“That’s a pretty shade of lipstick you got on tonight,” he flirted, pulling your bottom lip down with his thumb and inspecting the red residue that lingered on it when he pulled back.

“You should recognise it, not the first time I’ve worn it for you.” If he remembered right, he’d know you wore it the first time he’d snuck in through your bedroom window; the same pretty shade of blood red. “You asked me back then if I thought it would look good on you, and then you kissed me.”

“I did, didn’t I?” he mused, feigning thoughtfulness. “And it did look good on me...” You giggled at that, and it damn near sent Mary to his knees right there and then. He would never get fucking tired of that giggle. “Have you got it on you?” he asked, before he could get too distracted by that pretty little sound.

“Of course,” you said, patting the little purse hanging from your shoulder and down by your hip.

“Good, you might need a touch up when I’m done with you,” he smirked. “Think you can make some pretty little lipstick marks for me?” You nodded, moving in to kiss him immediately but he stopped you, his finger on your lip. You pouted, sagging your shoulders.

He pulled his finger from your lips and pointed it to his cheek bone, where the black met the white of his thin and chalky paints. You took the initiative, and stood up on your toes to reach, planting a very deliberate kiss to the area. When you pulled back, you marvelled at your work; the prettiest lip stain sat where you’d pressed your lips against him. Mary turned his head to look sideways into the mirror behind him, smirking at the transfer.

“Perfect, need more though,” he said, turning back to you and pointing now at his jawline on the other side of his face. You obliged eagerly, lingering just a little longer this time and pressing your body against his where he leaned on the sink. You could feel his body tense under you, like he was trying to act cool and aloof but fighting an urge rising inside him...

“Can I choose a spot?” you teased by his ear, letting your breasts press into his chest just a little...

“Choose wisely, doll...” he warned, with no real warning behind it whatsoever. But you already had a spot in mind...

You tucked your head just under his chin, letting your warm breath fan over the expanse of skin around his neck before gently placing your lips directly over his Adam’s apple. You felt it bob as he swallowed with anxiety, the tension of holding back his urges to devour you becoming almost unbearable. You loved that you had this effect on him... He was supposed to be this cocky, self-assured little badass; so how come you could have him tensing and straining with just a few simple, light kisses? Because you drove him wild.

You lifted your hands from the edges of the sink, instead settling them on his waist while you parted your lips against his neck, letting your tongue lap at the skin briefly before pulling back with a smirk just as he let out a hum of satisfaction. You saw his head thrown back, his eyes shut just before he realised you’d disappeared and snapped his gaze back to you. The look on his face was priceless, silently asking you why the hell you’d stopped.

“Didn’t wanna smudge it,” you shrugged, smirking.

“You fucking minx,” he chuckled.

“One more,” you told him, digging through your purse to add another layer of red to your lips so you could leave the most definitive print this time. Then you leaned in one more time, as if you were going to kiss him on the lips – which frankly, by now, he was desperate for. But you dodged his advance and pressed your lips just to the corner of his mouth, planting a firm, red lip stain so prettily for him.

“There,” you leaned back, still crowding his space and holding his waist, “looks good.”

“Not fair of you to tease me like that when the guys are gonna be here any minute, and I can’t bend you over this sink and fuck you dumb,” he growled, knowing full well the effect only his words had on you. His brash vulgarity was such a turn on to you, especially now that you’d experienced Mary’s sweeter side, his tenderness and gentility. He was like Jekyll and Hyde, and knowing what a softie he could be when feelings were involved, it was all the more exciting when Hyde came out to play...

He pinched your chin between his thumb and knuckle, angling your head to tilt up to him a little more. “I seem to remember you wanted to see how pretty this shade looked smothered all over my cock, hm?”

Damn him. You had said that... Back in your bedroom that night, but he’d denied you in favour of being the one to taste you instead. If you had the time right now, you’d have dropped to your knees in a heartbeat, but that door would swing open at any moment, his friends and bandmates arriving to get set up and head out on stage. You hadn’t tasted Mary since the very first time you’d slept together, and frankly, your mouth watered at the thought.

“Shame I’ll have to wait a little longer,” you whined, pouting like a spoilt brat who didn’t get her way, but it only made Mary’s grin wider as he looked down at you.

As if Satan himself had planned the timing, the door handle to the dressing room rattled, alerting you to the presence of his bandmates arriving and startling you both to stand upright, Mary tucking you into his side with an arm around your shoulder almost protectively.

“Goore!” Jed strolled into the dressing room with his arms wide open, followed by Davey and Forrest lugging equipment in and glaring at the back of his head for not pulling his damn weight and carrying some of this shit himself. Jed walked straight up to Mary, ignoring your presence at first and forcing Mary into a typical ‘bro hug’ with heavy slaps to each other’s backs in greeting. But then he finally turned to you, a cheeky and mischievous look in his eye. “And this must be the Dutchess...”

Mary froze, desperately trying to think of something to say in your defence, anything to turn the attention away from Jed’s comment that he could only imagine stung so much worse with everything you’d been through lately. But he couldn’t think of anything... He’d told them to be good. To welcome you, to be fucking decent and immediately, Jed waltzed in and had to poke at an open wound.

Davey and Forrest stopped dead too, waiting in silence, everyone aware of the tension that lay heavy in the room just from one snide little dig at your family history...

You looked to Mary next to you and smirked, before turning back to Jed and folding your arms over your chest. You took a step towards him, looking him up and down as if inspecting him before putting on your best snooty impression, and saying, “I think you’re supposed to kneel before a Dutchess, are you not?”

Another moment of silence passed, Jed’s face twisting from one of slight shock, to mild amusement. “Nah, I’m sure Goore kneels at your feet often enough for everyone,” he teased, winking at you. “I’m Jed,” he introduced, holding a hand out to you which you gladly took, watching as he lifted the back of your hand to kiss the back of it briefly and bow his head in mock respect.

“I remember,” you laughed, looking back at Mary who was looking at you with concern, but also pride... You had handled that better than he could have expected, cleverly inserting yourself into the humour rather than allowing yourself to be offended by it. You took the power away from Jed, and instead, earned his respect. You didn’t miss his exhale of relief.

“What’s with the lipstick, Mare?” Jed asked, pointing generally at his face. The others looked over too, now registering it wasn’t fake blood on his face, but lipstick – suspiciously the same colour as you were wearing.

“Trying something new,” Mary shrugged with a smirk.

“That your way of telling the ladies you’re taken now, eh?” Davey laughed, waggling his eyebrows. “Goore is off the market!”

“Better be, I don’t wanna have to get the claws out,” you warned, stepping back into Mary’s side and wrapping his arm around your shoulders. You dropped your voice a little lower so only Mary could hear, “at least, not for anyone but you.”

Mary just smirked down at you, biting his lip at the thought of your nails dragging across his flesh in the heat of passion later on tonight. You were being very distracting this evening...

Forrest and Davey reintroduced themselves to you once they’d set the equipment they carried down, the room settling into a far less tense environment. You sat yourself back down on the small couch and let the preparation for their gig unfold before you, chiming into conversation every now and then where you saw fit. Jed would throw you a few more jabs, but you managed to bat them right back at him like it was child’s play. And with each comeback, you earned just a tad bit more respect out of not only him, but Davey and Forrest too.

The guys went to soundcheck before the venue opened, while you hung back in the dressing room citing that you wanted to see the real show first. You’d rather see Mary in all his glory and performing than playing to an empty club for the first time. When they came back in, you could see the excitement had grown within the band, the buzz starting to build for the show now that they’d set up and were ready to go.

The beers had started to flow, just a few to keep them coherent enough to play of course, but the atmosphere was changing, building right up until the moment the stage manager came to collect them. The guys all downed the remainder of their beers, gathering whatever little bits they needed before heading out on stage. The guys wandered out of the door without Mary, leaving the two of you alone.

Mary pulled you to your feet from the couch, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Keep yourself safe in the crowd, yeah? Can get a bit rowdy...” he warned, a hint of anxiety present in his features. Not just at the thought of you alone in a crowd of metalheads moshing without a care in the world, but at the thought that you might just hate his music. That thought had been niggling away at him for days, ever since he first invited you.

“I’ll be fine, gonna stick by the bar so you know where to find me when you get off stage,” you assured, pulling gently on the spike of hair he’d now styled in front of his face to sharpen the point for him. “Oh, wait!”

You rushed out of his hold and towards his backpack, digging through it until you found his make-up kit and rushed back to him. You picked out the little vial of fake blood you knew he kept in there, dropping the kit down on the couch behind you.

“Can’t go out there and be ‘Mary Goore’ without the ‘Goore’, hm?” you winked, uncapping the bottle and resting the nozzle on his hairline, letting it drip and dribble down his face just enough that it wouldn’t interfere with the pretty lip stains you made earlier. You screwed the cap back on and threw it back into the bag behind you.

“Part of me is starting to think the blood turns you on a little...” he taunted, that stupid little smirk on his face again. You wanted to one-up him, to have the last damn word... And so, with a quick check to make sure the two of you were in fact alone, you grabbed his wrist and directed his hand down to hem of the short denim skirt you were wearing, pushing it up your inner thigh until you could manoeuvre his fingertips to push the edge of your panties to one side and slide over the little mess that all this damn teasing had caused, coating his fingers in it...

You pulled his hand from under your skirt and lifted it to between the two of you, giggling in a way that had him stirring beneath his jeans.

“I think maybe it does...” you tormented, letting go of his wrist and making your way to the doorway, leaning against it as if you were about to leave. Mary stood in awe of you, his hand still hovering in front of him as he looked between you and the shine on his fingertips a few times before snapping back to reality and realising he had a damn show to put on.

He did the only rational thing he could think to, shoving his slick fingers into his mouth to clean them off while he held eye contact with you. You felt yourself flutter at the sight, gripping onto the doorframe a little tighter. This mother fucker really knew how to rile you up...

“I’ll need more of that later, doll,” he told you sternly, stepping towards you. You took it as your cue to run, heading down the hall towards the club laughing almost maniacally as Mary stomped after you, his anxiety over performing for you replaced with a simmering need to get it over with so he could just fucking have you.

It had only been ten minutes since you’d left the dressing room, but you were getting a little antsy waiting... This wasn’t your usual scene, and you’d hoped that maybe your first time in a goth club you’d have Mary at your side to make the experience a little less intimidating. The majority of the crowd were men, all metalheads, and while you were more comfortable here than at any political event or frat party you’d ever been to, you were sure you stuck out like a sore thumb.

This club was in the city, and so you weren’t worried about anybody really knowing who you were save for Mary and his bandmates. But you were still finding yourself, figuring out your style and the wonderful thing about goth clubs is that everybody here went all out for the aesthetic. You felt boring, mundane even in the outfit you’d chosen. Sure, it was all black, but you’d thought the fishnet top over a black cami was daring... But in this scene, it wasn’t.

You felt out of place, and without Mary at your side, you were sure you didn’t blend in nearly as much as you were hoping to. So, keeping to the edge of the club by the bar felt like a safe option. While everyone’s eyes were up front on the stage, you could stand back and watch as your boyfriend – well, you hadn’t exactly talked about a label, but you figured – owned the stage. And watch, you did.

From the second Mary got up on that stage, you couldn’t look away. You hadn’t seen him play much, just a little here and there on that battered old acoustic of his, but never like this... He had such a command to him, this enigmatic energy that captivated you. Clearly, he was in his element. He’d told you it was his dream to perform, to be successful with his music and watching him now, you could see he put every fucking ounce of his soul into it.

His music was heavy; you expected that. The lyrics were dark, screamed and growled into the microphone like he was possessed. You could understand why he was nervous for you to hear it, to see this dark side of Mary. Music like this wouldn’t appeal to the masses, sure, but it certainly did to you. He was starting to learn there was a dark side to you too, buried and covered up with pretty pink bows and glitter but it was in there. No wonder you were attracted to Mary like a moth to a flame...

There was something about him on stage that just sparked something... Perhaps the way he handled his guitar, his fingers moving so deftly through the manic riffs he shredded. Perhaps it was the way he growled into the microphone; a deep, gravelly noise that made your breath catch in your lungs. Perhaps it was the way the crowd responded to him, adoring him and screaming for him and yet you knew that he was yours.

The combination of it all was driving you wild. Riling each other up before the show certainly hadn’t helped, but you found yourself forgetting you were ever anxious to step foot in a club like this alone and focussing solely on him. With each song, you fell deeper into this almost obsessive need for him.

Your demise finally came when a few songs into the set, his eyes landed on you. And the fucker smirked.

With his eyes trained on you, he spoke into the mic.

“Are you morbid?” he growled. The crowd screamed back at him, but he wasn’t talking to them. Not really.

You bit your lip, unable to look away from him or even blink as he stared at you, as if he was waiting for you and you only to respond.

“I said, are you morbid?” he insisted, the crowd screaming back again, louder this time. All you could do was nod pathetically, squeezing your thighs together and squirming just from the way he sounded, his stare... His smirk spread into a menacingly dark grin, his make-up and the lighting acting to enhance his devilish persona. He was turning you on, and he could see it.

“Fuck yeah, you are,” he snarled, immediately running his fingers along the strings of his guitar to make it screech and diving into the next song. You could have sworn you felt the ghost of his touch as he did, as if his fingers were running their way up your inner thigh and not the neck of his guitar – the thought had your cheeks flushing, hidden under the dim lighting of the club.

Watching his set was like torture. You tried to focus on the songs, to get into the music and as much as you were enjoying it you just couldn’t tear your eyes from him. When you’d first met Mary at the dive bar, he’d had this arrogance, this cocky self-confidence to him that lured you in but the more you got to know Mary, the more you knew that was a front a lot of the time. He had that softer side, that insecurity that he masked. But this version of Mary? This was where his true confidence lay, and it might just be the sexiest thing you had ever seen.

As all good things must come to an end, so did their set. The crowd cheered and roared for them, and you found yourself fidgeting while you waited for them to come off stage, pack up their gear and for Mary to come and find you. Impatience had you leaning on the bar, beer in hand and tapping your foot to the metal playing through the club now that the show was over. When you finally felt two strong hands sliding around your waist from behind you, you let out a sigh of relief, smiling to yourself as you span in their grasp.

“And what’s a pretty thing like you doing all alone in this dive, huh?”

It wasn’t Mary.

A strange faced smirked down at you, a thick and heavy beard to match the blonde hair that fell in untamed waved past his shoulders. His lip was pierced, straining from where he bit it while his eyes drank you in from head to toe as if you were some kind of prize. He reeked of cheap spirits and sweat, his forehead shining under the club lights as if he’d been in the mosh pit for the duration of the set.

Beside him was someone you’d mistake for his twin, if it weren’t for the black hair and obvious difference in size and stature. The man holding you was tall, but solid. His friend was shorter, his body unhealthily thick. But still, he matched the description of your metalhead stereotype, and he too was dragging his eyes all over your body.

Immediately your smile dropped and you shoved both hands into the guy’s chest. He stayed put, his solid frame too strong to waver but your push forced you back against the bar far enough to get out of his hold.

“Waiting for my boyfriend, actually,” you snapped, laced with disgust. The blonde guy just laughed incredulously, as if he didn’t believe you.

“I don’t see no boyfriend,” he said, looking from side to side as if that proved his point. He stepped further towards you, trapping you against the bar and holding onto your waist again. “Can pretend I am for the night if you want?”

He leaned into you as if he were going to kiss your neck, but you leaned further back and out of the way, trying to push him away from you. All you could do was stop him just short, rather than rid your body of his hold completely.

“Yeah, no thanks. Get off me!” you yelled.

“Don’t play hard to get, darlin’. He’s just bein’ friendly!” his buddy chimed in, laughing as he took a swig of a drink he clutched with his sweaty little sausage fingers.

“Said I’m waiting for my fucking boyfriend, piss off!” You gave him one final shove, and while he took a step back, he didn’t let go of you.

“I got a better offer, baby. You could have us both if you wanted...” he smirked, glancing back at his friend who laughed with him.

“Don’t think she wants either of you, Corbin.” Relief set in when you heard his voice materialising next to you, a hand with rings you recognised planting itself on this guy’s chest and pushing him back with enough force that he finally let go of you.

Mary stepped between you both, squaring up to the blonde without a second thought.

“The fuck would you know about it, Goore?” The blonde – who you now understood to be named Corbin – sneered, clearly irritated by the arrival of Mary instantly.

“Well, ya see, that’s my girlfriend you had your grubby little paws all over. And I don’t really like it when people touch my things,” he shrugged, but his tone was far from indifferent.

Corbin and his greasy little friend roared with laughter, as if the idea of Mary and you was the funniest joke they’d ever heard. That pissed you off...

“As if a hot piece of ass like that’s gonna fuck you,” he roared, shoving Mary’s shoulder. You could see Mary take a deep, slow breath to collect himself. This guy was testing his damn patience. And you’d never seen Mary handle a situation like this before. But what you did know, was he was fiercely protective of the people he lo- well, people he cared for... You weren’t sure what was about to happen, but you just wanted these pricks to fuck off.

“Watch your mouth, man,” he warned, his fists curling up at his sides until his knuckles turned white. Corbin and his buddy were still laughing.

“Hey, hey darlin’... blink twice if you wanna ditch this fag and come hang out with some real fuckin’ men,” Corbin snorted, shoving Mary’s shoulder again. “A girl like you deserves a real dickin’ down!”

You didn’t hesitate, hocking back a decent glob of spit and launching it in his direction. The laughter ceased immediately as it smacked him on his cheek with a wet splat, dripping into his beard as he jolted in surprise. He wiped it with his hand, flicking it to the floor and while his gaze darkened on you.

“You little fuckin’ cunt,” he sneered, stepping towards you threateningly as if he were going to grab you but Mary got in the way without hesitation, shoving him and landing a solid punch to Corbin’s cheek with a sickening crack that had everyone within radius turning to look at the commotion.

Within seconds Corbin retaliated, grabbing Mary’s shirt with two fists and headbutting him, shoving him back against you and in turn, the bar. Bottles knocked to the floor, smashing as Mary took a punch to the nose before getting his footing and throwing one back.

It all happened too quickly, a brawl breaking out so fast as you got shoved to the side and landed on shards of glass cutting into your palm. You ignored the pain and the wet feeling on your hands in favour of trying to grab the collar of Corbin to drag him off, but his black-haired friend grabbed you instead, pulling your arms behind your back and holding you against him as you watched Mary trying to overpower this solid piece of shit.

“Mary!” you shrieked at him, turning to the asshole holding you back. “Get the fuck off me, you fucking inbred bastard!”

From the crowd, Forrest appeared next to you and dove into the fray, grabbing Corbin’s collar like you had failed to and dragging him backwards to the floor, straddling him and landing a punch or two himself to his gut. Mary leaned over the bar, catching his breath while two men in black polos and cargos charged in, one pulling Forrest from Corbin, the other pulling him up and restraining him with his arms behind his back.

Forrest immediately backed down, holding his hands up in the air while the bouncer who’d intervened let him go, focussing his attention on the asshole still trying to claw his way to Mary. In a last ditch attempt, you kicked your heel between your captor’s legs and tucked it behind his ankle, pulling it until he fell to the floor and freed you. You ran to Mary without hesitation, pulling him to stand upright and holding his head in your bleeding hands to inspect the damage. You couldn’t tell if all this blood was yours or his.

“You gotta keep that bitch on a fucking leash, Goore!” Corbin screamed, still struggling against the bouncer to get a few more swings in. Mary lurched towards him, but you grabbed his shirt, pulling him back to you.

“You’re done, man!” the bouncer yelled at him, starting to drag him through the crowd of onlookers than had gathered. Corbin’s face projected a vile expression of pure hatred, smeared in blood that matted his hair and beard.

“I’m nowhere fucking near done, you watch,” he threatened, “you’re an easy guy to track down, Goore! I’ll fuckin’ find you!”

Mary glared at him as the bouncers dragged Corbin and his friend out of the club, kicking them to the curb. You diverted his attention back to you, gently pulling on his jawline and cupping his face to take a good look at him and remind him that you were right here and you were okay, in the hope it might dissipate the fury in him.

Forrest stepped up to Mary, concern creasing his brow. He’d managed to avoid injury, no fresh blood on him anywhere but his knuckles.

“You good, man? I can’t tell what’s fake and what’s real...” He waved his finger at Mary’s face. Mary smeared the back of his hand against his bust lip, scoffing at the sight of real blood on his hand. “Corbin’s a dick, you know he’s always lookin’ for trouble, man,” Forrest scolded, “You can’t rise to it!”

“He needs to learn not to run his fuckin’ mouth,” Mary growled.

“Hey, enough, tough guy...” you told him, lightly smacking his chest. “C’mon, let’s get you patched up.” You took his hand in yours, weaving your fingers in his despite the blood and pulling him through the crowd towards the door you’d come through earlier that lead to the green room backstage.

The heavy music of the club quietened to a dull roar behind you as the backstage door shut, and you lead Mary down the hall to the dressing room. He was silent, stewing in his head over the things Corbin had said to him, mulling over his anger. When you got him inside, you locked the door behind you, wanting a moment of quiet to patch him up. You let go of his hand and grabbed his make-up kit that you’d chucked on the couch, heading over to the sink you’d pressed him against earlier to wash your own cut up hands and dampen some cotton pads from his bag.

He lingered by the door, awkwardly stood in silence while you filled the sink. You hadn’t said a word to him, and frankly, Mary was terrified he’d gone too far, that you were pissed at him – or worse, disappointed. He never wanted you to see him like that, he wanted to be better, but he’d stooped to the level of a mindless thug because he couldn’t control how he reacted when it came to you. He’d have let it slide at the comments about him, but the second Corbin spoke down to you? He may as well have waved a red flag to a bull.

“Come here,” you told him softly, holding your hand out to him. Without a word he did as he was told, standing next to you by the sink while you ran the cotton pads under the warm water. Lightly, you began to dab at a wound by his eyebrow.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled quietly. “Didn’t wanna fly off the handle like that.” You smiled as you dabbed at his face, replacing the bloodied pad for another fresh one.

“Always rushing to save me,” you cooed, “my hero.” Mary chuckled at that, because of course he rushed in to save you – as if he ever wouldn’t...

“You’re okay though, right?” he asked, tilting your chin you guide your eyes to his for a moment. He was so gentle, searching with genuine concern. You just smiled at him and nodded. “Did you at least enjoy the show?” he asked, changing the subject now he knew you were okay, and figured you weren’t mad at him. If you were, he’d know it by now.

“I think you know that I did,” you joked, coyly. “You were incredible up there.”

Mary smirked down at you, battling between his sense of relief that you hadn’t despised the heavy music and his smugness at the blush that was no longer hidden in the dim lights of the club. Frankly though, you had started this. You turned him on before he went on stage, and where else was he supposed to channel that energy?

“Oh yeah? What did you like about it?” He feigned innocence, letting the smugness win. Of course he did, this was Mary after all... You thought for a moment, avoiding his watching eyes and continuing to dab at the blood that had dribbled down his face and collected around his nose and lip.

“Well, y’know... Just the control you had of the crowd, like they were eating out of the palm of your hand for most of it.”

“Hmm,” he hummed in thought, “You do like it when I take control, huh?” This fucking guy. The blush on your cheeks returned hotter than ever, radiating across your face.

“Shut up, I’m cleaning you up,” you told him, desperately trying to hide the smile fighting to curl your lips.

“What for? Thought the blood turned you on...”

Only Mary could go from being involved in a bar fight that left him covered in blood with contusions on his face, to doing his very best to rile you up. But perhaps you were just the right amount of fucked up for him, because it was working.

Your arms sagged to your sides and you finally made eye contact with Mary. He was staring down at you intensely, waiting in silence with that conceited little twinkle in his eye that was already starting to turn a shade of purple under the smeared remains of his make up. He leaned against the sink again, parting his knees and pulling you towards him by grabbing the belt loops on your skirt and tugging gently. You followed him too easily for your liking, only needing the gentlest of coaxing.

“I thought... you were morbid,” he tormented, just like he had from the stage. Your chest seemed to flutter, heart stumbling over its own rhythm just as the words in your brain you thought you might use to respond did. But you were rendered speechless, hypnotised even.

Even partially cleaned up, Mary looked rough. What you couldn’t understand, is why it seemed to excite you the way it did. Was it knowing that he’d suffered his injuries while fighting for you? Was it the thought that he’d fought a guy twice his size just to defend you? Or did the split lip and bruising just give him an even more menacing look that flooded your body with uncontrolled heat?

You found yourself leaning into him, hesitating as your lips barely brushed his when you remembered they were injured, and a kiss would surely hurt him – especially the kind you were looking for.

He raised his hand to pinch your bottom lip again, just as he had earlier, inspecting the colour of them once again.

“That really is a pretty shade, doll...” His voice rumbled in his chest; you felt it, now that you were so close to him.

“Blood red,” you whispered, slightly garbled thanks to his grip on your lip. He grinned at that, the most beautifully sadistic little grin, before he let go and pushed his battered lips against yours in a deliberate and heated kiss.

He grunted on impact, pain shooting through his lip but it only spurred him on. Mary was no stranger to mixing pain with pleasure and for you he’d take it all. He didn’t hold back and didn’t expect you to either, your lips clashing together as you found a rhythm. Your hands – now barely bleeding, but still tender – planted themselves on his chest when he pulled you closer by your belt loops again, having you lean so far into him your hips crashed into his.

His hands held you in place like that as he forced his tongue past your lips, lapping at yours almost grotesquely. It had been a while since you’d seen Mary’s feral side, but here he was under the dressing room’s harsh luminescent lights trying to devour you as if you were his last meal on death row. Your hands grabbed at his chest, nails scratched at him to try and grip onto him but falling short thanks to the barrier of his shirt.

Hands grabbed at everything they could, both of you seeking the other out and feeling as if close just wasn’t close enough no matter how harshly you pressed against each other. You could feel his jeans growing solid, taught under you and just the mere thought of him hardening at this alone had you pressing your thighs together and pushing your hips into his as much as possible.

Mary pulled his lips from yours just for a moment, pressing his forehead to yours as he groaned at the intoxicating mix of the pain that pulsed through them and the pleasure that pulsed through his growing erection.

“Now’s your chance, doll,” he panted. You looked him in the eye, glaring intensely back and forth at one another. “Show me how pretty it looks, hm?”

It took you a second, but then the penny dropped...

“I seem to remember you wanted to see how pretty this shade looked smothered all over my cock, hm?”

When that penny dropped, so did you, immediately falling to your knees between his feet and reaching for the studded belt that held his jeans up. He watched through hooded eyes, gripping the sink behind him to lean his body weight on it while you undid his jeans and pulled them down just enough to expose the trimmed hair that tapered from his stomach down past that delicious ‘v’ line of his hips.

You reached past the hem of his boxers and fished your prize from its confines, laying heavy and thick in your palm. It was almost shameful, the way your mouth watered at just the sight of him, the feel of him in your hand but there wasn’t even the tiniest part of you that cared.

You looked up at him through your lashes, gently stroking his length and taking in the view from below him. The lust in his eyes had your body setting itself alight from the inside out. He looked dangerous, waiting for you to do as he wanted. He had full control of you with just his stare and without a single word... What he wanted was very clear, and you were more than happy to oblige knowing that obedience would earn you a reward.

Truthfully though, you wanted to do this for him just as much as he wanted it. Even when he was on stage, all you could think of was bending to his will, doing whatever the hell he wanted you to in order to derive his pleasure from him. You wanted him to take control of you, to channel that same darkness you saw in his eyes as he played and growled into the mic and use it on you.

And so, as you stared up at him through those pretty lashes of yours, you opened your mouth and lay your tongue flat on your bottom lip, never breaking eye contact as you leaned in and lay the reddened tip of his cock on it. It was your turn to put on a show for him now, to prove yourself worthy of reward and worship him like you were kneeling at an altar rather than his feet.

He inhaled sharply, hissing through clenched teeth when your tongue made contact with his head. You kept your eyes on him still, circling your lips around him and relishing in the purr that sounded from above you. How had you failed to do this for him since that very first night in the dive bar? How had you resisted? The way he’d reacted to your mouth last time should have been enough incentive – it certainly was now.

Frankly, you were appalled by how long it had been since you’d taken him in your mouth like this... You’d more than make up for it now, slowly leaning further into him to take as much of his length into your mouth and throat as possible while still holding your gaze on him.

The eye contact was driving Mary insane, seeing right through you and knowing you wanted him to watch, to see how good you were being for him. You were freakier than anyone would give you credit for, and only he knew that. Only he got to see it.

“That’s my girl, huh? Fuck...” he praised, one of his hands letting go of its death grip on the sink and running through your hair as you bobbed slowly. You whimpered a little at the approval, particularly when his fingertips grazed over your scalp, nails scratching and massaging. The pleasure was nothing like what you wanted, what your body craved but you’d take any bit of praise, any kind of encouragement he was willing to give.

When he wrapped his fingers in your hair, tugging at it gently to encourage your movements you couldn’t stop yourself from gripping his thighs, grounding yourself while he groaned above you. You relaxed your throat, swallowing more of him until your nose nuzzled against his skin and his grip on your hair tightened, holding you there.

Mary was losing his mind, his head rolling back and eyes squeezing shut when he felt your throat constricting around him. He pulled on your hair to lift your head off him, giving you an opportunity to breathe but all you did was hollow your cheeks and breathe through your nose, using your fist to pump the half of his cock that was now exposed.

You suckled at the tip for a moment before pulling off him completely, holding eye contact again and stroking him where you knelt. You made sure he was watching you when you began to press deliberate kisses to his shaft, leaving slightly dull lipstick stains against his pale skin. Mary grinned wildly, stroking your hair and allowing you to mark his cock in red stains like you’d promised him.

“Dirty girl,” he keened, “You’re loving this, aren’t you?” You didn’t answer with words, only nodding as you started leaving open mouthed kisses, tongue laving wetly at the ridges of his cock where veins protruded. “Such a pretty colour...” he chuckled, starting to lose control of his hips as they rolled towards you, chasing the feeling. He so badly wanted to be buried in your mouth again, surrounded by that delicious wet warmth...

You didn’t tease him for much longer, taking the tip past your lips again and sinking down on his length. The moan he released had arousal pooling between your legs, and your own need was becoming hard to ignore. But you would, knowing that Mary would pay you back for your patience – if not now, when he got you home...

“So tempting to use this pretty mouth of yours, doll... See how much you can take.” That was an invitation, an open hint to ask for your consent to do just that. The thought of pulling back to give verbal consent was just not sitting right with you – a second of neglect to his now weeping cock was a second too long, and you weren’t about to neglect him at all. Instead, you gripped the hem of his jeans and pulled his hips towards you, indicating you wanted him to use his hips, to move and use you just as he’d said.

“Oh, you want that, huh?” You nodded, pulling again. “Shit...” he hissed, pushing himself up from leaning on the sink to stand in front of you, all the while you never let him slip from your mouth.

With his feet firmly planted to the floor either side of you, he wrapped his hand in your hair again and began to rock his hips; slowly at first, savouring the feeling and watching intently as you sat so prettily for him, obediently taking everything he gave you. But he couldn’t help himself – the sight at his feet completely maddening – and he found himself thrusting a little faster, testing how much you could take. When you didn’t struggle at all, he amped his thrusts up again, grunting and moaning above you. It took all your willpower not to let go of his jeans and dive between your own legs for some friction, some kind of relief from the arousal overtaking your body.

As if he read your mind, Mary used his free hand to rip yours from his jeans. “Touch yourself,” he ordered, “Until I can feel your fucking moans on my cock.”

You had no willpower to deny him, immediately diving your hand beneath your skirt and pushing your panties to one side to circle your clit with the juices that had gathered there. You whined in satisfaction, the sound vibrating along Mary’s shaft and spurring him on to bury himself to the hilt in your throat.

“Don’t hold back, make yourself cum.” And you didn’t, wasting no time building up to pleasure and doing everything you could do get yourself to the edge. It never took long with your own fingers, not when you knew the goal was just to cum as quickly as possible. There was nothing to savour, you were rushing not for yourself but to give Mary exactly what he wanted.

“You fuckin’ wait, doll... I’ve been too sweet on you, hm?” he warned. Truthfully, the sex recently had taken more of a sensual turn now that feelings were involved but there was still a filthy side to Mary, and he knew you had it too. There was no harm in mixing it up a little here and there... “Wait ‘til I get you home. I’ll have you fucking screaming for me...”

You believed him. You knew what he was capable of, and you had no problem letting him do whatever he deemed necessary to elicit those screams that you couldn’t create here. But his promise had your hips bucking against your hand, chasing the high that fast approached. Your moans echoed around his head, vibrating down his cock over and over as he used your throat.

“Come on, doll, cum for me. I’m not letting go ‘til you do,” he groaned, tightening his grip in your hair until your roots burned but all it did was spur you on... You hollowed your cheeks for him, using your tongue to please him as he fucked your throat. Your fingers sped up, furiously circling your clit and pushing you closer and closer to the brink until you snapped...

Your hips jolted and thrashed where you knelt, the floor harshly bruising your knees. Moans ended up as choked garbles as you came harder than you’d expected for such little build up. The only thing keeping you remotely in place was Mary’s grip on your hair, holding your head for him to continue fucking your throat with reckless abandon now, too turned on to hold off as soon as you fell over the edge of euphoria.

“That’s it, doll... Fucking hell...” he growled, biting into his already injured lip and trying desperately to hold onto his own control. He waited, watching you as he used your mouth, getting closer and closer until you stopped squirming beneath him.

“Where?” he panted, desperate now, “where can I finish?” He sounded frantic, panicked. Truthfully he was, because if he didn’t get some kind of answer soon, he’d be unable to hold off, and the thought of ruining his orgasm was too devastating after all the work you’d put in for him... You just pointed at your full mouth and sucked at him harder, earning you a roar of “Fucking SHIT” as he threw is head back one final time and lost all control.

You took every drop of his spend you could like a champ, holding what you could on your tongue as his hips slowed to a shallow splutter and he whimpered and grunted above you like an animal. He looked ethereal, despite the injuries to his face as he found his pleasure in you.

You waited patiently as he caught his breath, the last dribbles of his spend finding their way onto your tongue as you lapped at his now over-sensitive head. He leaned back against the sink again to steady himself, looking down at you sat prettily waiting for him like a puppy dog waiting on a treat. Your lipstick had smeared across your face, messed up by your kisses and his borderline brutal motions. And yet, you were the prettiest thing he’d ever seen.

Even prettier when you opened your mouth for him, and showed him what you’d collected on your tongue.

“You waitin’ for permission, or something?” he laughed, pinching your chin to tilt your head side to side and inspect you. You just waited in silence, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Lipstick’s ruined, baby. Gonna need a fresh coat...” he bent down until he was eye level with you, “Or maybe a gloss?”

With a wink, he dipped his finger into your mouth, coating his finger in his cum and spreading it over your lips gently as if it were lip gloss. It sparkled under the lights of the room, matching that playful twinkle in your eye.

“So pretty...” he complimented, watching as you now closed your mouth and swallowed what was left. Mary watched in awe, almost pissed off that his cock had softened and for now, he was spent. Just that act alone had him wanting to worship you like the goddess you were. But he’d have to wait until he got you home...

But Mary being the nasty little shit he was, wanted nothing more than to do whatever he could to keep the fire going, to fan the embers and turn you on as much as you did him. And so, he took your hand in his, helping you up off the floor. Then with one hand, he wrapped his fingers around your neck and held you still, moving in to kiss his gloss from your lips.

You knew from the first night you spent with him he had no problem with the taste of his own release, but as long as he kept finding new and ridiculously sexy ways to show you that, you’d always find it one of the hottest damn kinks of his... You melted into his kiss immediately, adoring the taste of him on your tongue mixed with the fresh blood of his split lip he’d bitten into. Was it a nice flavour? No. But it was the very essence of Mary, and it had you drifting into a world of your own as you made out with him.

Suddenly, the doorhandle rattled, followed in quick succession by a heavy thump on the door and an “ow!” being yelped through the wood. It sounded like Jed, trying to get in without knowing you’d locked the door when you came in to clean Mary up. He’d tried shoving the door open with his shoulder, only to collide with it instead.

“Hey, what the fuck?” he yelled through the door. Quickly Mary parted from you, tucking himself back into his jeans and doing them up. He stepped to the side and made his way slowly to the door, giving you enough time to take another cotton pad from his kit and run it under some fresh warm water, wiping away the red smears from your face to look somewhat presentable. Your hair was still wild from Mary’s grip, but you didn’t quite have time to get it back to normal before Mary let Jed into the dressing room, followed by Forrest and Davey on his heels.

They looked around the room, flitting between the two of you who in your effort to look nonchalant looked more guilty than if they’d caught you mid-blowjob.

“You fuckin’ animals...” Jed laughed, slapping Mary’s chest as he walked further into the room to gather up their kit. “Glad we got here in time, don’t need your ass print on our shit Mare.”

They thought they’d caught you before anything happened... Good, you’d let them believe that.

“You good, man?” Forrest asked, “I know he landed a few punches. You look rough.”

“Thanks,” Mary scoffed. “Did he look worse at least?”

“Oh yeah, think you broke his nose. Blood everywhere, looked crooked. Nice,” Davey laughed, “Bouncers shoved him out on the street while I was having a smoke, he was pissed.”

“Bastard deserved it, has done for a while,” Mary shrugged.

“We’re gonna load the van and head out, you two alright to get yourselves home?” Forrest asked, picking up some of the kit they’d brought in the dressing room after their set.

“Yeah we’re good, not over the limit,” Mary turned to you then, “you ready to get outta here, doll?” You just nodded, turning to pack up Mary’s kit and drain the sink of the pink-tinted water.

It didn’t take long to shift the gear into Forrest’s van with you and Mary helping out. Surprisingly, all the guys gave you a hug as they were leaving, citing it was nice to meet you and hopping into the van – not before Jed got in a jab about ‘going easy on Mary’ despite his new ‘bad boy look’ when you got him home. You just promised him you wouldn’t with a wink, to which he laughed.

As they drove out of the parking lot, Mary turned back to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into him.

“Shall we?” he asked with a suggestive tone, swaying you in his arms and smirking down at you.

“We shall...” you sang, leaning up onto your toes to plant your lips to his in a slow and delicious kiss. He hummed against your lips, his hands grabbing at your waist as you introduced your tongue to the mix – but he soon cut you off.

“Get in that van, right now,” he ordered, earning a giggle from you. You span in his arms and felt a playful smack to your ass as you began to walk towards the passenger side of his van, Mary making his way into the driver’s side.

The tension in the front seat was thick and heavy, anticipation for the moment he finally got you home building with each passing second. At some point, Mary reached over and placed his hand on your thigh, stroking his thumb over the bare skin and letting it slide inwards. You twisted in your seat, allowing him the room to slide a little higher, just to tease...

Once out of the city and back on home turf, you threw caution to the wind and leaned over the centre console to kiss at Mary’s neck, nibble at his ear, anything and everything you could do while he drove – very carefully – through the streets he knew like the back of his hand.

“You want me to total this thing, doll?” he growled. You just giggled, sucking a hickey into his neck.

Eventually, he pulled into his apartment complex, parking up in his designated spot. As soon as he took his seatbelt off he was shoving you back over to your side and climbing over the console himself, his hands everywhere all at once as his lips engulfed you. You fucking loved riling him up like this...

“Do you know how tempting it is just to fuck you right here?” he growled as his lips made the descent down your neck.

“I’d let you,” you laughed, “but I gotta stop by the 7/11...”

“Huh?” he pulled back from you, confused. “You didn’t fancy mentioning that before I dived over here?” he teased. You giggled again – and of course, had no idea what that did to him, inevitably making the unfolding situation in his jeans worse.

“What? I’m out of birth control...” you whined. “And as much as I love the idea of you railing me until the sun rises, I really don’t fancy motherhood any time soon. Pharmacy isn’t open this late, so condoms it is. Just for tonight.” You leaned forward, pressing a chaste kiss to the end of his nose.

“Fine by me, condoms make me last longer anyway,” he smirked. “I’ll come with.” He started to retreat back to open his door, but you stopped him.

“No no, it’s fine. It’s just around the corner. I’ll be like five minutes. You take your stuff upstairs, get a little rest – you're gonna need it...” Mary sighed in defeat.

“Alright fine, you got your phone on you, yeah?” he checked, a little concern on his face.

“Yeah yeah, I’m good. I’ll see you up there,” you leaned in to press another kiss to his lips, jumping out of the van and heading down the street in the direction of the local convenience store.

Mary watched you walk away – absolutely nothing to do with the way your ass looked in that skirt, of course – and gave in, knowing there was no arguing with you on this. So instead, he got out and fished his guitar case from the back, along with his backpack of make-up and guitar picks and headed upstairs. He hummed to himself as he climbed the two flights of stairs up to his floor, content and happy despite the bar fight that had broken out.

Truthfully, Mary couldn’t believe his damn luck. He’d landed a girl like you, worked at the differences and insecurities and whilst it was still a work in progress, you were his. He’d won the biggest battle, let his walls down just enough to let you in so you could take care of the rest together, brick by brick.

Mary rounded the corner to his apartment, shoving his hand into his pocket for the keys to unlock the front door when he stopped, frozen and staring straight ahead... Something wasn’t right.

The door to his apartment was slightly ajar, the wooden frame splintered by the lock as if it had been forced open with a crowbar. He couldn’t hear anything, only silence spilling from the crack in the door, but Mary knew better than to go charging in...

“I’m nowhere fucking near done, you watch!” Corbin’s threat echoed around his head. “You’re an easy guy to track down, Goore! I’ll fuckin’ find you!”

Corbin had made good on his promise. And for all Mary knew, he was still inside, waiting for him. Waiting for you.

Quietly, Mary set his things down in the hallway, rifling through his bag for his cell phone, typing a quick message and hitting send before he fished into the hidden pocket inside and pull out a Swiss army knife. Handy little thing to own, when you own a guitar workshop and play in a band. Never know when you might need it to screw something together, or cut or saw something. He’d never needed to use it for self-defence before, and frankly, he felt sick at the thought of it. But he wasn’t going into that apartment without something.

Slowly, and quietly, Mary stepped towards his front door. His heart pounded in his chest, sweat beginning to form on his brow as fight or flight began to kick in.

He took a deep breath, flicked the knife attachment out of its hiding place, and slowly pushed open his front door...

You sifted through the aisles of the 7/11, humming to yourself one of Mary’s songs that you particularly liked from the show tonight. With condoms in hand, as well as some assorted snacks, some beers and a few toiletries, you headed over to the register ready for the sluggish teen employee to ring you up.

They took their sweet time, and you tried your best not to look impatient. It was late, after all, and this poor kid had the graveyard shift. You wouldn’t wanna be here either, in their shoes. Not that you’d worked a solid day’s work in your life, mind you...

As the poor kid moved at the pace of a turtle scanning each of your items, your phone buzzed in your purse. Figuring Mary was asking you to pick something up for him, you checked it, only to have your heart jump into your mouth, and your stomach fall out of your ass...

Don’t come home. Not safe. Call Forrest +1 (618) 107-1423

#mary goore x reader smut #mary goore fanfiction #mary goore fanfic #mary goore x reader #mary goore #repugnant fan fiction #repugnant fanfiction #repugnant #repugnant band #ghost bc #the band ghost fanfic #the band ghost #ghost band #ghost #ghost the band #mary goore smut

184 notes · View notes

soongtypehuman · 6 months ago

Text

Boo-hoo update

I’m sorry to say I have an update I was hoping to not ever have to make. Some of you already know that I have some serious health issues, but I've been pretty quiet about the extent of what I'm dealing with.

The gist of it is that I have a rare bone disease called fibrous dysplasia that turned certain bones in my skull into tumors and then those tumors grew inward and started crushing my brain, so I had a craniotomy last year to remove as much as was safe and got a cool new titanium implant in my head to replace the removed bone/tumor. The unfortunate result was encephalomalacia, which is the end stage of liquifying necrosis, and now part of my brain is liquid instead of solid (it’s dead, in a nutshell). Most people don’t survive encephalomalacia, much less remain able to function, and most who survive the initial stage don’t survive the three year mark. Even when you do survive it, it often continues spreading. The last MRI showed it had already taken over about 1/3 of my brain. But I’m a stubborn asshole and am still hanging on.

Unfortunately, things aren’t getting better.

I have to have constant MRIs, EEGs, physical and cognitive therapies, and have been on more meds than I’d like to be in order to control seizures and various cognitive issues. I didn’t mention this before, but I had to go through a series of speech therapies just to learn to talk properly again. And the most unfortunate part of this is that my ability to write has been affected. Since the surgery over a year ago, I’ve only made 10 new posts in the Positronic Rivalry series, totaling around 87k words. For reference, I posted over 200k words in 2022. I’ve posted even less this year, and it’s not improving.

With that said, I have to take a step back. I’m not quitting and I’m not walking away from the fandom. I’d like to think I’ll still be able to post here and there. I just don’t know when and under what circumstances that will happen. I most certainly can’t handle the longer multi-chapter fics I once could. Maybe one day, but not this day. Since I started posting on AO3 back at the end of 2021, I’ve posted every Sunday more often than not. I’m sorry to say I can’t make that happen right now, and can’t say when I’ll post again or what it will be. I won't be able to continue with season 4.

But I’m most definitely not leaving the fandom and the people and the characters I love so much. I’ll still be here interacting and posting when I’m able. This fandom and the people in it are incredible and mean a lot to me. Data and Lore and Star Trek in general are integral to my life and general enjoyment.

But!! I’ve nearly completed compiling seasons 1-3 of Positronic Rivalry as well as 2022/23 Kinktobers into files that will be ready to print in physical book format (completely free, obviously), which I’ll make available for everyone to download in various print sizes, complete with covers, which you can then have printed at various POD sites if you’re so inclined. Digital versions will also be available (you can already download various formats from AO3, but they’re not compiled into seasons, don’t have covers, etc.).

I’m also continuing with the Trek-themed crossword puzzles because those are fun and my therapist thinks making them is good for my cognitive rehab.

This update is a massive bummer for me, but I felt it was better to just admit my limitations instead of constantly trying to convince myself that I could continue the way I had been pre-surgery and beating myself up when I couldn’t.

Lastly, I’ve finally taken the suggestion I’ve gotten repeatedly and set up a KoFi. If you’d like to buy me a coffee or toss a coin to your android porn witcher, you can do so right here and I’d be giggling and kicking my feet in gratitude.

Anyhow, I want to thank all of you for being amazing and coming along on this ride with me for as long as you have, and for as long as it might continue in whatever form it takes.

#star trek #fanfic #fanfiction #star trek the next generation #star trek tng #data soong #commander data #lore soong #lore star trek #st tng #kofi

85 notes · View notes

vladajwrites · 2 years ago

Text

Razor’s Edge

Part One || Part Two || Part Three || Part Four || Part Five

Summary; Reader moves to Woodsboro for her senior year of high school. This story take place in the setting of the Scream 4 movie. This story is dedicated to all of the girls living through the current Rory Culkin revival. I love and see you. <3

Also available to be read on AO3 here

It's imperative for me to mention MAJOR trigger warnings for this story; blood, violence, sexual content, alcohol usage, and mentions of abusive situations. I will add and edit tw's as needed.

WC; 4146

Notes; Hello!

The next part should be out relatively soon. Not sure quite yet how many parts will be made and posted. Thank you for any and all support! It truly means the world to me.

(Not Beta Read)

It had been an astonishingly warm night when you returned to the town of Woodsboro. The air around you felt slick with familiar August humidity as you stepped out of the car that once belonged to your father. You stood for a moment, inhaling deeply as if attempting to swallow in the sight around you.

It had been nearly a decade since you had seen the quiet street where your aunt Irina resided. The moon was nearly full, casting a gold tinted glow that rivaled the street lamps near the surrounding homes. Memories of your childhood summers spent rolling in the grass of your aunt’s front yard as she sunbathed beside you flashed through your mind as you stared across the lawn.

A sad smile crept across your lips as you popped the trunk, compiling boxes in an unstable stack within your arms.

You suddenly felt a nervous sting in your stomach as you walked towards the door. Reality seemingly sinking in slowly. You had just turned eighteen only days prior. You dreamt of that birthday for years. It meant that you were now an adult and that in some ways; you were free. Free to leave home and go no contact with your parents. Your parents had plucked you from a town not far from Woodsboro and moved you across the country at the age of nine. They isolated you from the support of any sort of extended family or potential friends. Your mother and father psychically and emotionally tormented you and did so in such a calculating manner that they would never be caught or reprimanded.

You had tried to run away to your aunts once before at the age of fourteen, but your parents had the police bring you back to the home before you could cross the county’s boundary. It was even more difficult to keep in contact with your lovely aunt after that. Your parents monitored the communication between the two of you like a hawk. Your aunt still did what she could to support you and you both knew that when the time came, she would become your safe haven.

You weren’t sure how you’d make your escape, how you would go about hiding the things you were carefully packing away. But it seemed your parents had, by this point, completely checked out. It was as if they quietly understood that you’d all be better off if you parted ways. The final confirmation you needed that this was true was when your dad passed the title of the old car he had kept in the garage and worked on rebuilding over the past years to you just days before your birthday. He committed this action wordlessly, dropping the paperwork in front of your bedroom door to find. You said nothing in return. You knew what it all meant. An action like that from him would never come from a place of love or kindness.

It didn’t take you long after to finish gathering the last of your things. You debated on leaving your parents a note, debated the possibility of initiating a final conversation with them. Using your better judgment, you decided against it. They didn’t deserve anything from you, you knew you’d never receive the closure from them you deserved. Better to just try and forget it all.

You left in the night after hours of pacing your bedroom floor, waiting and listening anxiously until the house grew silent and you could assume your parents were fast asleep. You grabbed your bag containing your phone, wallet, and keys and made your way out to your car that sat adjacent to the curb in front of the Connecticut home that served as your personal hell for nearly a decade.

You started the engine, feeling the car shake as it warmed up. Your hands trembled as they gripped the steering wheel. You were ready, had to be.

Taking a single look back at your home, you felt your heart skip out of step as you caught your mother’s frame looking down at you from her second-story bedroom window. You took your foot off the gas as you met her eyes. You couldn’t have but certain, but by the way her sullen cheeks glinted in the dim night lighting, she appeared to be crying. Her mouth remained pierced and straight, her shoulders and head rigid and stiff in their usual form. Even if she truly were crying, you wouldn’t have been able to bring yourself to care. Too late and far too little, you thought. You snapped your head back to the road and pulled forward down the street, refusing to look back again.

You held your shoulders and back straight, attempting to keep your face stuck in shrewd control. You couldn’t explain the wet, sickly feeling that built and spilled from the corner of your eyes. Couldn’t stop it if you tried.

It wasn’t until you caught a glimpse of yourself in the rearview as you entered the highway that you realized you saw your mother’s face staring back at you. A sudden terrible thought crossed your mind. Could your parents have made you just as cruel and horrible as they were?

You took a deep breath, wiping away the tears that clung to your cold skin. You let your body slack slightly, relaxing the muscles in your face and shoulders. You glanced back up at your reflection once more. No, you thought, there was still a sense of softness in you. You would never be like them. You were going to heal, move forward.

A smile spread across your lips then as another car shot past you. This felt like the first real moment of your life. You reached over, digging in your bag for your phone. You only had one person to call. The phone rang twice before your aunt’s soft-spoken voice answered on the returning line. As if she could read your mind, she asked quietly, “Are you on your way?”

Your smile widened as you answered her, “Yes, yes! I’ll be there in just a few days. I have all my things. I’ll let you know if I run into any trouble.”

The line was silent, you held your breath as you waited for a response. You suddenly felt nervous in those quiet moments. You hadn’t told her that this would be the night you would be leaving. It had all happened so quickly.

Your aunt then exhaled a heavy sigh of relief and your smile returned once more.

“Be safe darling, I’ll speak to you soon. I love you.” Irina spoke.

“Okay, promise I will be. I love you too.” You replied before pressing the button to end the call.

The long drive passed in what now felt like an instant as you stood in Irina’s driveway, boxes in hand, looking up at what would become your new home.

Your aunt Irina greeted you on her front porch, promptly taking one of the small stacked boxes from your arms that hid your face. You sighed in relief at the lightened load.

“Ah dochka, come inside quickly.” Your aunt said over her shoulder as she propped the front door open with foot.

You nodded and followed her, placing the heavy boxes that contained the most important of your belongings on the entryway table beside the stairs. Your aunt carefully placed the box she held on top of the stack as well before turning to face you. You held your arms awkwardly at your side, your fingers twitched as you met your aunt’s gaze. She was all the natural beauty and poise that your mother -her older sister- had without the cutting and sunken look that came from years of contempt and cruelty. You hoped you favored your aunt in that way.

There was a moment of silence shared between the two of you as you took in the sight and presence of one another. Irina’s expression was filled with something indiscernible as she looked you over. You suddenly felt self-conscious in that moment. The last time she had seen you, you were only a child.

“I-“ You began to speak, unsure what your next words would be. You were promptly interrupted as Irina took you into her arms.

“Oh sweet girl, I’ve missed you so much.” Your aunt spoke softly. Her hand slid over your hair, holding your head closer to her own.

You tried your best to get a hold the overwhelming emotions building up inside you as you wrapped your arms tighter around her.

“Listen, don’t worry about any of it right now,” Irina pulled away, holding your shoulders in her hands. “I’ll show you to your bedroom. It’s late. We’ll catch up in all the days to come. As you’re ready, of course.”

She understood you so perfectly. It felt as though no time had passed between the two of you at all. You nodded, wiping away the single tear that slipped past your waterline. “Thank you.” You replied earnestly.

She showed you to your room, helping you carry your things up the stairs. The room was warm and soft, perfectly polished and eclectic, in the style that perfectly encapsulated Irina. You absolutely adored it all.

Your aunt didn’t linger as you swiftly unpacked the essentials you needed for the night. It was nearly reaching the hours of the early morning and you were both physically and mentally well exhausted. You’d let yourself begin to process it all in the morning. For now, you were safe, even happy. It was going to be alright.

The next morning had come and gone. Your aunt woke you with breakfast and the two of you exchanged small pleasantries. In the afternoon Irina stopped you as she caught you on the stairs, a laundry basket stuck to her hip. “We can go tomorrow to enroll you at the high school if you’d like. I have a gap in meetings around noon.”

You picked at your fingernails, tossing up the idea in your head. “It’s okay, I can run by the school on my own tomorrow. I imagine It shouldn’t take me very long.”

Irina furrowed her brow, nodding. “Oh okay then, just shoot me a text when you get everything sorted, will you?”

You smiled and nodded before the two of you resumed your paths apart.

Finding your way to the school the next morning wasn’t too difficult of a task to accomplish. Classes began in a week and to your relief, there were no students hanging near campus yet to be found. Aside from a few members of faculty, the school was entirely deserted.

It didn’t take you much time to locate the staff required to complete your enrollment. The secretary had even exclaimed she knew your aunt quite well. You supposed that everyone must be at least partially acquainted in this town, given its size.

You suddenly felt hesitant as you made your way across the parking lot back to your car. A silver sedan caught your eye as it sped past you. All four windows were rolled down and you could tell the car was full of people that looked just about your age. It seemed you had caught their attention too as you met the eyeline of the driver. She was too far away to make out much detail beyond her short cropped hair and frame.

The thought hadn’t yet occurred to you how difficult it would be to make new friends in a place where nearly everyone grew up with one another. You wished in that moment that you had made more of an effort as a child during your summers spent here to make any friends. But you had always been shy, horribly and painfully shy, as a child. It was just easier to play on your own. In all honesty, you weren’t sure how to make real close friends, let alone keep them.

Still, you shrugged, it would have made this whole transition much easier if you had at least one person near your age in Woodsboro who might have remembered your name.

You tried to keep your mind occupied in the days that followed. It wasn’t much of a hard task to follow. In the afternoon, you mainly kept to your bedroom, flipping mindlessly through a book you had been attempting to finish for the better part of a month. In the mornings you sat in the window bay, hot coffee in hand, remembering the neighborhood boys you used to watch ride by in circles on their bikes. Occasionally, your aunt invited you to eat lunch at the law firm she worked at in town. She’d tell you endlessly how quickly you’d adjust to things once the school year started, reminded you how the home was always open to guests, talked about the possible colleges you could apply to. It was a strange feeling to have someone show so much interest in the day-to-day doings of your life. You figured you’d learn to truly welcome and reciprocate the sentiment in time.

Your nerves had seemed kept safely under control until you began to turn into the Woodsboro High parking lot on the first day of class. Your fingers tapped the steering wheel in anticipation as you pulled into an open parking spot near the back of the lot. Placing the car in the park, you flipped your visor, giving yourself a once over before biting the bullet and getting the worst part of the day on with it. You scolded yourself for unknowingly chewing your lip nearly raw on the drive there, but other than that, you seemed just about alright.

Irina had been so excited to help you get ready for your first day. You knew she had always thought of you as her own daughter. She never had the opportunity to have any children of her own. You gladly let her fuss over your hair and clothing without once interjecting that the curling iron was burning your neck, and the constant outfit changes were exhausting your limited wardrobe. It gave you a sense of confidence, though, knowing that you at least looked your absolute best, regardless of how you felt inside.

You said a silent prayer as you approached the building’s front doors. Groups of students passed by in small droves. Each step felt like sinking through sludge as you noticed the quizzical looks from your new found peers that read ‘outsider.’ Even though your rational brain knew it couldn’t be true, it felt as though everyone in the halls was craning their heads to catch a glimpse. You dug your thumbnail into the palm of your hand as you dropped into an empty chair near the back of your first period homeroom class.

“There’s that new face.” A friendly female voice spoke beside you as she dropped her things on the desk to your right.

You turned to face her and were met by an inquiring smile and a familiar short blonde haircut. You immediately recognized her as the girl you had seen in the school parking lot the day you had registered.

You held out your hand, giving her your name.

She shook your hand in return, “Kirby.” She replied, giving you her own. As the two of you waited for the first bell to ring, you exchanged the usual first introduction sentiments. She introduced you to another girl who sat in the seat in front of you.

“Jill Roberts.” The new girl had stated more matter-of-factly.

“Good to meet you, Jill.” You replied in the same cadence. She gave you a half smile as she onced you over.

You spent the majority of your first few periods staring out of classroom windows or drawing endless little circles on your notebook as your teachers passed around syllabi and gave the same spiel on classroom expectation for the semester. You had learned so many names in just a few hours; you were already struggling to remember even just a handful. You assured yourself it wouldn’t matter much in the grand scheme of things. In a matter of days, most people would lose interest in the new girl thing and you’d slip comfortably by as a nameless face in the considerably smaller student body.

The bell rang for lunch and you were on your feet with your things thrown over your shoulder in a matter of seconds. You carefully squeezed your way through the buzzing hallway and made a direct line to your car, hoping to decompress and catch your breath for a moment.

Just as you planted your first foot on the paved parking lot, you heard your name called, no- shouted, from behind you.

‘Fuck,’ you mumbled to yourself, pivoting in place. It took a moment to locate the person who had called after you. A curly-haired boy awkwardly jogged to catch up, his long-haired counterpart feigned a cooler stepped approach behind him. You couldn’t remember an introduction with either of them.

The curly-haired boy noticing the confused look on your face interjected, halfway catching his breath, “We already got your name from Kirby.” He began, noticing the way your brows furrowed he quickly continued, “I’m Robbie, this is Charlie.” He motioned to the man that stood beside him.

You looked up between the pair, catching Charlie’s line of sight. His eyes dropped just as quickly to his shoes below him, kicking his laces at the ground.

“... Right.” you stated questioningly, dragging your eyes away from the frayed aglet on Charlie’s left shoe to look back up at Robbie.

“Right, yeah,” Robbie stumbled over his next words, “We run the film club. We meet every day after school.” You sucked in your bottom lip, trying to conceal your now amused half smile.

You noticed Charlie now glancing between you and Robbie with dread in his expression at the awkward mess Robbie was attempting to make his way through. Just before Charlie could begin to speak, Robbie rushed to spit out the point he was trying to get to.

“Well, we’d- I’d.” Robbie met Charlie’s eyes for a moment before continuing. “No- we’d love for you to, if you ‘d want to… You should come check it out. After school. Today.”

You rolled the idea over in your head for a moment. You didn’t really believe you belonged anywhere near a film club; you considered yourself an average movie-goer at best. It couldn’t necessarily hurt to go, either. If you really felt out of place, you could just not go back the next day. You squinted up at the pair. Neither of them could meet your eyes. Your aunt would be ecstatic to learn you’d even made an attempt to put yourself out there a bit more. The short contemplative silence hadn’t been a thought that had crossed your mind, but you could tell it was now starting to make them squirm.

“Come on dude, I told you she wouldn’t want to come.” Charlie broke the silence with a quiet plea to Robbie.

Charlie now turned back to face you, “I’m sorry, don’t stress about trying to make it.” The look of defeat in the pair’s expressions brought a pit of sudden guilt in your chest. Just as Charlie grabbed Robbie’s shoulder to drag him back inside the school, you interjected without a second thought.

“I’ll go. I’d love to go. Thank you for the invite.” You drug as much sincerity into your face as you could muster. Both boys stopped in their tracks, exclaiming in unison, “Really?”

Charlie’s eyebrow raised in suspecting confusion.

“Okay, cool! Classroom 120A, right after the last bell.” Robbie called over his shoulder, a wide grin plastered across his face.

You stood for a moment, one foot on the curb, watching the pair make their way back to school. Fixating on the way, Charlie ran his hand through the mess of his long hair.

“See, I told you dude, you just have to make the first move.” You could hear Robbie say, almost out of earshot now. His arm reached out to fall over Charlie’s shoulder, shaking him slightly. Charlie pushed the boy off him. You imagined him rolling his eyes as he brushed off his shoulder.

You laughed to yourself, turning on your heel, heading back to your car to spend the time left of lunch you had in much needed solitude.

The remainder of the school day passed by just about the same way the first half had. In your last class of the day, you took the time counting the heads of the students around you, trying to recount the names of each one you could remember. Once you made your way to the back corner of the room, you noticed Charlie staring down at his lap. He was crumpling, unfolding, then crumpling up the same piece of paper over and over again. You wondered what he could’ve written on that paper, if there was anything written on it at all.

You hadn’t realized how long you sat watching his repetitive movements until he looked up, catching your gaze. His eyes were piercing, deep set, his hair half-way covering the features of his face.

Your face burned hot as you quickly snapped your head back towards the whiteboard in the front of the room.

‘Idiot.’ You groaned in silence to yourself. Out of the very corner of your peripherals, you could feel his eyes still fixated on you from just a row behind. You picked at your nails anxiously, watching the minute hand spin on the classroom clock.

The last bell of the day rang out shortly after and you relaxed into your seat. You slowly gathered your things into your bag on the desk.

“Hey.” A familiar voice spoke beside you. You jumped in your seat at the quiet and sudden proximity. You looked up to meet Charlie’s gaze. He was messing with the loop on the strap of his backpack that rested on his left shoulder. “I can show you to the room we use for film club, if that’d be cool with you.”

You nodded your head up at him. “Yeah, that’s cool.” In all honesty, you had almost completely forgotten about even going.

“Cool.” He said, grabbing your bag off the desk and throwing it over his other shoulder. He began walking to the door, motioning over his shoulder for you to follow him.

You followed closely beside him as you both pushed your way through the hallways packed with students exiting the building. The would-be awkward silence between the pair of you was graciously filled by the loud chatter of people passing by.

“When’d you move back?” You barely caught Charlie’s question. His face was fixed on the wall in front of him.

“Back? I’m sorry, I’ve never lived here.” You replied, “I moved in with my aunt about a week ago.”

He looked over at you, studying your face for a second before turning away again. He nodded his head.

“What about you? How long have you lived here?” You asked, keeping your gaze directed forward as well.

“Born and raised.” He replied. You nodded in response as the two turned a corner. You could see a plaque that read 120A just ahead.

A trio of guys in football garb made their way past, headed in the opposite direction. The closest of the group carried a large bag of equipment at his side that nearly knocked your knee from under you as you crossed paths.

“Ouch,” you mumbled, missing a step. You were alright, truly fine after shaking it off a bit.

Charlie stopped in his tracks beside you. Turning to face the group. “Watch your shit, Anderson.” He called after them.

The carrier of the bag didn’t bother to stop walking, only looking over his shoulder to seemingly size Charlie up. He laughed, “Yeah, alright Walker. You’re not gonna do shit about it.”

You could nearly feel Charlie tense up beside you. Men and their silly egos.

“I’m alright, let’s go please.” You grabbed Charlie’s forearm and pulled him forward towards the room, letting go once you could feel his resistance lessen.

Once in the room, you let out a sigh and took a seat next to Kirby near the center of the room. The meeting, to your surprise, went by well. Charlie and Robbie both seemed much more sure of themselves when they were talking about things they were passionate about. Although you had to admit it was all pretty dorky, you’d never fault them for the devotion in their interests.

You were practically lost throughout the hourlong meeting, but you believed it wouldn’t be too much of a challenge to pick up on things, eventually. It was all sort of interesting, fun even.

You decided on the car ride home that day you’d make sure to attend the next one.

#fanfiction #fanfic #scream 4 fanfic #charlie walker fanfiction #charlie walker fanfic #charlie walker x reader #scream fanfic #charlie walker x y/n #charlie walker #rory culkin fanfic #rory culkin fanfiction

926 notes · View notes