#beth x chuck

[sad-endings-suck]

There is a certain type of ship dynamic that simply cannot be created or replicated artificially and it’s called “this couple was never meant to be a canon ship but their chemistry is just so incredible we had to do it anyway” and I love it more than anything.

[contemplationncoffee]

I'm Choosing to Let You Go || Multi-Couples

[brightandshinystar]

Me: really Wanting to Cosplay Beth Turner (Moonlight 2007) or Jean Grey in a casual outfit from X-Men but finding sunglasses that remind me of Scott's at the thrift store (now I'm googling his casual outfits from the movies) guess I'm going to do another GenderSwap cosplay in the future because that's all I ever do😭

Sam Winchester

Gabriel

Chuck Shurley

[twola]

just saw a post that said “missionary, so we can keep arguing” and i feel like you’d do that justice if you’re ever in the mood to write it lol xx

Oh holy shit. I’m now in the mood. Here’s a low honor Arthur secretly has feelings, but they are way WAY underneath. Also shoutout to @shootybangbang, who insisted on a few points to add to this.

Fortitude

Arthur Morgan x F!Reader Smut (18+), MDNI ➵ Fic Masterlist ➵ AO3 Link ➵ Next

“Who is it?!”

“It’s Arthur, idiot!”

His deep voice booms across the camp and the onion you were dicing suddenly becomes victim to very vigorous chopping. The knife slams on the butcher table loudly as you grit your teeth.

Mary Beth looks up at you with a curious stare. “Are you…alright?”

“Never better.” You mumble as you continue to chop at the onion.

You wipe the sweat from your forehead with the back of your hand, letting out a long breath.

“Oh, Arthur, how nice of you to return!” Dutch’s sarcastic reply echoes across the way as he moves to clap his hand across Arthur’s back in welcome. “Anythin’ good out there?” He hands Arthur a bottle of beer, and immediately Arthur begins to drink.

“Shoah. Plenty to keep me out there. Better than loungin’ around here.”

Dutch guffaws at the pointed comment.

You grit your teeth again as you pick up the next onion. Laughter surrounds the campfire for several moments as you continue to chop. Arthur slugs back the rest of his beer before tossing it to the ground. “Now if you don’t mind me, I have a lady to see.”

You try to ignore his heavy footsteps approaching.

“C’mon now, missy. Let’s get outta here fer the night.”

You pause a moment before placing the knife down. Mary Beth gives you a look as you sigh, wiping your hands on your skirts. You give her a mumbled farewell as you turn to Arthur.

He stands there, all six feet of the fearsome enforcer of the Van der Linde gang. Able to tear men limb from limb. Hand on his gunbelt, the brim of that old gambler’s had shading his eyes against the sunset. A beard showing weeks out on the land.

Damn him, damn him to hell. 

You take his outstretched hand and follow.

-

It’s not terribly far away from camp. Just far enough not to be bothered. He stops his horse in a small forested glen and swings off of the saddle, tying the mare to a tree branch.

“C’mon now, girl. You seem so pleased to see me.” Arthur grunts as he unloads his small tent from his saddle bag, turning and immediately starting to 

“Very pleased. Been waitin’ on you every night to come back.” You retort, sliding off of the rump of the horse and turning to unfasten the bedroll from his saddle.

“That’s more like it,” He smirks back at you as he pitches the tent, “Don’tchu worry, I’ll get you right.”

When he’s finished with the tent, you stoop down and roll out his bedroll on the ground within, climbing inside as the dusk falls. Arthur follows you, stooping to his knees at the entrance of the lean-to. He tosses his hat toward the back of the tent.

“Get on yer knees.” Arthur orders as he starts to undo the buttons of his workshirt.

“No,” you huff, sliding back on your bottom atop the bedroll. You start unlacing your boots and pull them off, chucking them toward the entrance of the tent.

“No?” Arthur’s eyebrow quirks as he rips his gunbelt off.

“I ain’t gonna let you treat me like some two-penny whore. You’re gonna at least have the decency to look me in the eye.” You rasp up at him as you start unlacing your dress.

He kicks his boots off smugly. There’s something ironic in the way the two of you are quickly shedding your clothes to the back and forth going on in the tent.

“Oh, too good to bend over but not to get on your back for me?”

You shimmy out of your dress and quickly pull your chemise over your head. He works his pants down with his drawers. 

“Too good for you to fuck me like I’m any other hole.” 

“We’ll see about that-” Arthur chuckles as he stands on his knees opposite you, completely nude, cock blood-swollen and bobbing with his movements. His hands grab at your hips, grasping those dainty bloomers you’ve taken to wearing and pulling them down your thighs, over your knees, and completely off, chucking them to the side.

He licks his lips, the bastard, at the sight of you on your back for him, naked in the waning hours of the day. And yet, here you are, angry but desperate to be wanted, you just want… a little something more.

Arthur spits in his hand, slathering it on his cock. Climbing atop you in his bedroll, you spread your legs for him. The head of his cock catches on the rim of your cunt and he pushes inside, growling as he does so.

A whine, desperate, claws its way out of your throat as you clench at his forearms at the feeling of several hot inches of him splitting your core, filling you fit to burst. It’s the pain on a knife’s edge that seems to placate the aggravation in your soul.

He’s not gentle - you know that, you’ve never expected him to be. He fucks like he works - with physicality and brute strength. 

He does, at the very least, stay buried within you for a moment, his hips shoved completely up against yours, all those hot, pulsing, hard inches of him having carved a blazing path through your core. He does, at the very least, give you that moment to accept him, grow used to him, before grabbing your hips and starting to buck against you mercilessly.

“You’re -hah- infuriating,” Arthur spits out, locking his elbows as he finds a rhythm of slamming his hips into yours, the slap of skin on skin loud within the tent. No wonder he dragged you away from camp.

“You’re a lowlife -ngh-” You are able to grit out as he tries to fuck you into submission. But you know this game, you know his game. He may be the feared enforcer of the gang, but you’re not some feeble woman willing to let him do with you what he wants.

“Ain’t too low for you to let me fuck you.” He growls, words interspersed with his thrusts.

“Ain’t the same gettin’ myself o-off.” You sputter as he slings your other thigh over his shoulder and slams his hips down on you to effectively cut you off. You cry out in surprise at the change in angle of his thrusts, loudly to the point he slaps his hand over your mouth as he moves above you.

You sink your teeth into the meat of his palm. He hisses, pulling his hand away quickly. He looks down on you with annoyance.

“What the hell is wrong with you, woman?”

You grit your teeth against the anger that has been eating at you this whole time.

“I missed you, asshole.”

Arthur stops, jaw unclenching, cock halfway sheathed in your warm cunt. He looks down at you, eyes wide, brow unfurling, and the fire in his gut subsiding.

“Ain’t you ever think when you’re out for weeks at a time that you got someone to come home to?” You scowl up at him as he slowly lets your leg down from his shoulder.

Arthur frowns, biting the inside of his cheek.

“When you’re gone for weeks at a time, then come back bragging about it, it’s like you ain’t want to be with me. At least that’s what you got me thinkin’.” You lower your voice and encircle your fingers around his forearms. Your thumbs rub gently at his wrists, “So when you drag me out here to fuck you, are you telling me that’s all you want?”

“No.” He gruffly responds.

“Then act like it.”

He lowers himself to his elbows slowly, his cock slipping further inside you and you give a little whine in response. Arthur angles his forearms inward, giving him the ability to brush some of your hair from your forehead. You wrap your arms around his neck and your legs around his hips, plastering your bodies against each other fully. 

“Just - try not to stay out as long. Or maybe take me with you. The cot gets awful cold without you in it. If we’re together, I want to be treated like we’re together.” You whisper, the anger in your blood finally dissipating. 

He hovers above you, finally, a fond smile replaces the previous bombastic smirk on his face.

“Want me t’ write you some poetry?”

“Kiss me, you fool.”

He immediately complies, smashing his lips on yours, tongue pressing against your lips, which you open to him. You moan throatily as he rolls his hips in a full stroke, pulling his cock near completely out and thrusting back in. He repeats the motion again and again.

“Want to be beneath me every night? That’s what my girl wants?”

Your reply is half a scream, “Y-yes! E-every night, Arthur-”

“Goddamn- yes, oh shit, that’s it-” he babbles as his strokes start to come unwieldy.

The molten fire burning in your core licks at your gut, the muscles in your legs start screaming - you know that you’re quickly going to reach your end with each time that he shoves his cock deeper inside you.

“I’m go-gonna come, Arthur -ngh-”

“That’s it, darlin’ girl, come all over my cock.” He croons, changing his motions by pushing himself as deep as he can before gyrating his hips, trying to hit everywhere within you.

You seize up, your thighs clamping around his waist as you cry out to the heavens above, some garbled noise that sounds like the syllables of his name.

Arthur coos, in that teasing way that he does, shutting his eyes as he takes in the feeling of your pulsing core on his cock. The gush of wetness that surrounds him, starting to leak out onto his balls as you thrash and cry.

When finally you begin to calm down, he yanks himself from you and sits up on his knees as he squeezes his eyes shut, pumping his cock as if coming would save his life. 

You shoot up, leaning on one elbow, and bat his hand away from his cock, wrapping your fingers around his base and guiding it into your mouth.

“Aw fuck honey-”

He doesn’t last long. How could he? Not with your perfect mouth around him, not with your tongue pressing against the sensitive slit, not when you suck. With a strangled shout of your name, he comes, spurting warm down your throat. Salty and bitter, just like him - but you suck him dry as if you couldn’t get enough.

He flops down on the bedroll next to you, panting as you curl your body against his, placing your head upon his chest, your hand spread wide over his racing heart. Another centering moment later, he winds his arm around you. 

He’s not going to confess his love for you. You may never get that. But being tucked in his embrace as he holds you to him - for now, you are placated.

He kisses the crown of your forehead gently. You snuggle even further into his embrace.

This you could work with.

[mercurycft]

𝐓𝐎𝐎 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 — 𝐊𝐌

## katie mccabe x reader !!

hi pookies!! once again i apologise for the lateness.. but i really hope you enjoy this.. my little tattoo-lover heart got a little carried away with this, but i love this concept so much and i hope you do too! its a little different than the original idea for the direction of this, but either way, i really enjoyed this!! happy reading! love always - RG! x

i would also like to say! this is inspired by a fic i saw on my feed about a tattoo artist x alexia (i think) and i loved it! if i find the account i will top the link to their fic here!

contains: tattoo artist reader! shameless flirting! angsty make up sex, cocky!katie, fight for dominance, oral - both receiving, rough grabbing, dirty talk, fingering, useless lesbians, top!katie and brat!reader, foul language.

r's masterlist - requests open!

4.6k words

CONTAINS ADULT LANGUAGE & CONTENT 18+

a knock at your door was a disruption to your night time routine - pyjamas already on, makeup off, hair tied back and your toothbrush hanging from your lips. you slipped on your slippers and headed down the stairs, still brushing your teeth when you pulled the door open to reveal a familiar face.

she was in a similar state. hair tied back messily, loungewear on and no makeup accept for her eyelash extensions. your eyes lifted from the floor to finally meet hers on the other side of the threshold

“katie..?”

“can i come in?”

3 months ago.

a notification past 7pm would usually be ignored.

and it was the first time, then the second, then the third. the fourth, however, was followed by a groan from your sprawled-out position on your sofa. although tempted to put your phone onto 'do not disturb' and continue the twilight marathon you started the previous night, you stretched across the empty space and patted around to locate your phone - simultaneously pausing the tv and shifting to sit with your back against the pillows for a change.

katie_mccabe11 liked your story.

katie_mccabe11 liked your post.

katie_mccabe11 started following you.

you have 1 new message.

"katie mccabe.." you whispered into the emptiness of your apartment, crossing your legs beneath you and clicking on the notification on your screen. "why do i know her.." you racked your brain, pursing your lips. you noted the football shirt in her profile picture alongside the blue verified tick beside her username and used your critical thinking skills to put two and two together, chuckling at the thought of your younger sister losing her mind at another footballer dming you.

you waited a few seconds before opening her message, reading it carefully and silently. "that's how i know her.." you replied to yourself, whilst alone.

last week you had beth mead in your seat at the shop, getting a small paw print behind her ear and chatting yours off in the process. you spoke about a lot of things, you're used to that though. sometimes people just need someone to talk to - and who better than their tattoo artist? you liked beth, she was lovely, easy to talk to. the kind of person you would be friends with. she wasn't with you for long, an hour tops and it flew by. at the end of the appointment you exchanged socials and she left with a 'i'll tell the girls about you!".

you didn't really watch football, but you knew enough - and you would be lying if the thought of your name being chucked around between a very attractive group of women didn't make your stomach twist.

you typed your reply to katie quickly. starting with your usual friendly opening, explaining your upcoming availability and then ending with a single kiss. you had no available appointment spaces for the next three weeks, but you hoped that beth really sold you and your passion enough that she would consider waiting. she read it almost immediately, making your eyes widen and quickly swipe away from the message in an effort to not seem like a total weirdo.

her reply flashed across the top of your screen a few seconds later.

'ill take it x'

—————————

appointment day.

it was appointment day and god were you a nervous wreck. you arrived at the shop an hour earlier than normal to open up and clean before she arrived - she was your first and only appointment of the day and you wanted to make a good first impression. you prepared what you would need, laying your tools out on the table beside you and making a coffee - which would no doubt be freezing cold by the time you actually got around to drinking it.

you connected your phone to the bluetooth speakers around the room and shuffled your playlist just as the doorbell rang from the front of the shop. 7:59. you didn't know much about katie, having restrained yourself from going full-on stalker mode over the last few weeks leading up to her appointment. but clearly she was punctual.

as you unlocked the door and smiled to her through the glass, you couldn't help but realise how strikingly attractive she was. her hair pulled into a tight and slick ponytail at the back of her head, a deep green tracksuit complimenting her tanned skin and bright eyes.

"good morning!" you greeted cheerfully, welcoming her in.

you watched as her eyes scanned around the room, studying the artwork on the walls before they landed back on you and a smile spread across her face to match yours.

"mornin' hope i've not been a fuss this early.." she joked as you embraced each other in one of those awkward-but-friendly-first-meeting hugs, causing you to laugh softly.

"oh it's no bother, serious." you waved her comment off, shutting the door behind you both and leading her over to your station at the back of the shop. you didn't expect her accent to be so thick, but the way her voice sat heavy in the space between you had you clenching your jaw.

the pair of you made small talk as she got situated and sat on the leather bed whilst you pulled up a stall and your phone to take another look at the pictures she had previously sent, grabbed a pen and then pulled a pad of paper onto your lap. laying the phone down so she could see as well.

you sat across from katie, discussing designs and what she would and wouldn't like. she was engrossed in the conversation, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm as you shared ideas and suggestions. you found yourself doodling on the paper, absentmindedly drawing whatever came to mind as she chatted about the specifics of what she wanted. every now and then, your eyes would meet hers, and a playful smile would tug at the corners of your lips.

there was silence between you for a few beats as your pen etched across the paper and completed the first sketch of the possible design. when you finished you looked up and turned the paper towards her before you could ask how she felt about it she spoke up.

"how do you do that?"

"do what?" you replied playfully with a smile.

"how can you just listen and draw? it's so cool.." she sounded genuinely bewildered for a moment and you couldn't help but laugh lowly.

"honestly, it just happens. when someone describes what they want i see it in my head and just let my pen translate it." you explained with a shrug, looking at her again.

"well its sick, i won't lie!"

"thank you.. i'm a woman of many, many talents.." it came out a lot more suggestive sounding than intended, mental cursing yourself and begging internally that she wouldn't see the pink tint you could feel spreading across your cheeks. you looked back down at the page before she could notice, avoiding her eyes.

"oh i bet." she added, smirking across from you.

you both sat like that for another ten minutes, brainstorming ideas and katie watching you bring them to life like a magician until you both finally settled on a design. you couldn’t believe how natural the interaction was coming and conversation flowing. you embraced the shared banter between you and leant into her jokes.

the design she had settled on was small and intricate but you knew you could free-hand it, so decided against using a stencil for the work. “right, i am gonna wash my hands and get everything sterilised, you get comfy and have a think about where you want it. okay?” you said as you stood up and ripped out the page you were using, placing it beside your other supplies so it was easy to use as a reference. katie replied with a small “sounds good to me,” and you heard her shuffle around the bed and as you made your way to the sink you could feel her eyes on you, following you away.

when you returned to her, she was sat more comfortably and had discarded her hoodie. the ribbed vest she was hiding left little to your imagination, revealing her arms and more of that heavenly tanned skin to your prying eyes. you tried not to look, but were made too aware of yourself failing miserably when she caught your gaze and you watched her suppress a chuckle.

once you were situated on the stool again, you took a deep breath and turned towards her. “so where are you thinking?” she sat silently in response, deep in thought.

“either here,” she pointed to the inside of her bicep to punctuate her point “or here..” she added quietly as her thumb hooked into the waistband of her joggers and shimmied them down a couple of inches until you could see the skin at the bottom of her stomach- in line with her hip. perhaps you looked for a second too long, or she heard you gulp, or maybe your fears were real and she could in fact hear your heart rattling against the boney cage of your ribs in your heaving chest - but the way you heard her exhale a humorous breath and tense her stomach muscles snapped you back into reality.

“which one would you prefer?” you questioned, professionally.

“probably my hip.” you nodded in agreement, smiling and internally celebrating at her decision. “and as a bonus i get to watch you gawk at me for however long it takes,” she teased, earning a small smack to the upper thigh and an eye roll.

“i was absolutely not gawking!” you defended with a smile.

“oh yeah, alright then..”

you rolled your eyes again and stood to grab a small bottle of sanitiser and a disposable razor, placing them on the table - once you made sure she was comfortable you sat down again.

“i’m going to pull your joggers down a couple inches, is that okay?” you waited for her reply before making any moves closer to her.

“of course,”

“perfect.”

you got straight to work, dragging them down until the area she had pointed out was revealed again - only this time you could see the band of her underwear peaking out from beneath the fabric and it had you drawing in a careful breath. you circled the skin with your pinky finger lightly and showed her the length and width the ink would cover, double checking that was exactly where she wanted.

the tattoo itself took no longer than forty minutes to complete. once you were finished you sanitised and made sure it was exactly how she wanted before moving to discard any disposables used. she took it like a champ the entire time, only slightly flinching when the needle grazed a particularly tender spot.

you spoke to her about the aftercare and how to take care of it whilst it healed, then covered it with second skin and soothed the area - moving to wash your hands and stand against the counter. “any questions?”

you sat speaking for another hour, and you were sure at times she was stalling so she wouldn’t need to leave.

“when do you finish?”

“whenever you want to go,”

“why didn’t you say! i don’t want to hold you up, love..” she tutted and began collecting her stuff. you laughed at her huffing like a child and led her towards the front desk.

the petname made your stomach jump, twisting and twitching in your abdomen as you studied her. the way she moved and smiled, how her eyes pierced through you like she was reading your mind - how you were so sure she actually could see and read the filth behind your own eyes.

at the front she paid and thanked you another couple hundred times as you let her out the door. she stepped over the threshold and gave you another small hug. “thank you again, i really love it.”

“stop thanking me! i’m just glad i could do your vision justice..” you smiled and shrugged, “you’re welcome anytime, just pop me a message!”

“that’s just because you want to look at my stomach again..” she called, walking to her car and waving.

“shut up.” you rolled your eyes, laughing. “don’t be a stranger!”

—————————

during the appointment you and katie exchanged numbers and for days, weeks, months you texted each other everyday. you met for coffee, went to watch her and the team (who you got along with swimmingly) practice, you even went to watch all of their matches.

you had been inseparable since that first meeting, you shared things about each other previously unknown by anyone, spent evenings and nights at each others homes and got aquatinted with family and friends.

after spending so long together, the pair of you had become incredibly close - often sharing a bed, and clothes. you couldn’t help but feel things for her, for katie. your stomach became a harvest ground for butterflies and your heart rattled with longing for her.

you came close to telling her, to explaining how you felt - until one day, it just stopped.

the meetings stopped,

then the match invites,

then the messages,

everything stopped.

—————————

present day - 2 months later.

over the last months without talking to katie, you threw yourself into work and university in an attempt to distract yourself. you felt like you were going through a break up - could you even call it that? could you categorise this into the break up section? a friend break up? whatever it was, it hurt, and you found yourself still thinking about her.

friday nights felt weird now. usually sat on the sofa with a takeaway, katie sat on the other side with her food in her lap - laughing at some stupid program she had put on. now it was empty in the apartment, and you sat on the sofa alone with a cup of tea watching telly until it was time to get ready for bed.

you showered, careful to avoid putting soap the area of your newest tattoo addition on your wrist - letting the warm water run over the skin. when you were done, you made sure to moisturise and then cover it up again before getting dressed into your pjs.

you brushed your hair, and then began brushing your teeth - staring at yourself in the mirror and studying the ink that now littered your arms and chest.

you were deep in though when a a knock at your door disrupted your night time routine - still brushing your teeth when you pulled the door open to reveal a familiar face. your eyes lifted from the floor to finally meet hers on the other side of the threshold.

“katie..?

“can i come in?”

“uh, yeah- yeah- sure,” you stammered and stepped back to open the door wider for her, stepping away into the kitchen area to spit the froth from your toothpaste into the sink and quickly rinse before running back to shut the door behind her.

it was awkward. she stood in front of you in silence for a few beats, looking down at the ground as if she was figuring out what to say. you stood a few steps away, leant on the wall beside you with your arms crossed across your chest.

"why are you-"

"look i dont know why-"

you both spoke over eachother, breaking the silence that sat heavy between the walls. you shared a smile, it was brief, but it was there as you met her blues and waved your hand - gesturing for her to continue.

"look, i don't know why i'm here. i just got in my car and then i was on the drive and i just needed to speak to you. i just wanted to see you-"

"oh god you never shut up mccabe.." you whispered with an eye roll as you advanced towards her.

one step. what if she doesn't want this?

two steps. what if i've read this all wrong?

three steps. jesus her perfume..

every step you took was narrated by that voice in your head, you know, that one that tells you to shut up in uncomfortable situations and the one that speaks to you when you watch something brilliantly but so stupidly funny. you couldn't stop to think out loud, you couldn't stop full stop. point blank. period.

your feet were moving faster than your thoughts, and your thoughts were moving faster than your logic until you were so close you could feel her soft breath caressing the skin of your face.

"tell me not to, and i won't." you said softly

"god, you've always been too sweet for me."

there was no time to register what she said, her lips were on yours. they were everything you had thought of, they were soft but she kissed you with urgency. breathing heavily as her hands raised to either side of your face, pulling you closer than physically possible. your lips moved together sweetly, full of love.

you stayed like that for a few minutes, soaking each other in until she pulled away. lips swollen, taking a deep breath. there were no words exchanged between you, only eye contact - the sound of breathing shared. then you crashed together again, lips connected for a second time in the space of five minutes.

this time however, was harsher, and fast-paced. she was in control, gagging for it. hands grabbing at whatever fabric they could find on the opposing body, a small moan falling from your lips when her hands squeezed the skin of your waist and her lips broke from yours momentarily to grunt out a "jump." to which you gladly obliged, legs wrapping around her waist and her hands finding the skin at the top of your thighs - she held you like nothing, with no struggle as she passed through the hall and up the four steps to your bedroom.

when she placed you back down onto your feet you were quick to tug your top up and over your head, discarding it on the floor. before you could continue she grabbed your hand, finger tracing gently over the still-fresh tattoo across your wrist.

"this is new," katie whispered.

"i had a lot of time on my hands." you replied at the same volume, shrugging. she chuckled lightly, reading the words now littering the skin. "and you were always saying i was sweet.."

"aye, and you're yet to prove me wrong."

"don't start something you can't finish, katie."

"oh i'm very, very good at finishing, actually."

"shut up."

this time you had her, hands on the back of her neck as you pulled her in. grabbing the fabric that sat at the nape of her neck and pulling it over her head, only breaking the kiss until your path was cleared again. you span around, walking backwards until the back of her knees hit the edge of the bed causing her to lay down. you wasted no time in straddling the top of her thighs, arms on either side of her head.

"behave." she muttered, hands gripping your thighs and switching your positions on the bed, now towering over you, arms replacing yours on the bed. mouth moving to your neck, nipping at the skin beneath your ear. "stop acting like you don't want me to have my way with you."

"stop acting like you've got it in you." you quipped back, smirking when her teeth grazed your earlobe roughly. her hand raising to grip your jaw and forcefully turn your head to face her.

"is that a challenge? hm?" it was rhetorical, her eyebrows raised and voice low.

"prove it."

she didn't need further pushing, lifting herself off the bed and taking a few steps back. you propped yourself up onto your elbows to watch, head tilted when she stared at you blankly. eyes flicking to your shorts before back up to your face.

"take em' off."

"you take them off."

"take. them. off. i won't be asking again."

you gave in with a huff, rolling your eyes and lifting your hips to peel your shorts off. biting down a smirk as you lifted your legs back onto the bed - revealing yourself to her.

"awfully cocky there, love."

"as if you don't love it."

"do you always have such a smart mouth?"

"i have a very lovely mouth."

"oh i bet."

she was on her knees then, face level with you. eyes locked on your gleaming pussy, fingers gliding through your folds and collecting your slick before bringing her digits to slip between her lips - tasting you. she laid her fingers back against you, prints flat against your clit, applying the perfect amount of pressure to make your head fall back on the bed behind you with a desperate moan.

she drew tight circles, watching you throb beneath her fingers. you moaned at the contact, your clit already sensitive. you didn't know how she managed it, but she had you falling apart from the pressure alone - and you could tell she loved every second of it with her lips drawn into a cocky smirk at the sight of your mouth falling agape when you began rutting up into hands as a plea for more.

“does that feel good darlin'?” she asked from between your thighs, her lips pressed against the soft skin of your leg, stopping their sloppy kisses for a second. you whimpered in response, nodding slowly. “use your words, love.”

“yes it feels good..” you whispered, licking your lips, your mouth increasingly dry.

“good girl..” she added, jaw clenched when she attached her lips to your thighs again. you savoured the feeling, the delicious feeling as she dragged her fingers roughly against you. the praise made your legs tense against her lips, sending a rush of pleasure down through the depths of your stomach.

“i want more. please.”

"hm? what was that?”

“i want your fingers..” you confessed, dragging your own teeth along the back of your hand which you were using to muffle the sultry sounds tumbling from your lips - biting down against the skin when you felt your face flush.

“please,” you begged, hips rising off the bed in a desperate act for more friction. she shut you down quickly, using her free hand to pin your hips back to the mattress.

“please what, darling..” she stalled, slowing down to an unbearable speed.

“i need you to fuck me,” your words made you squirm, eagerly waiting as you felt a single finger travel down and tease your hole before she pushed into you slowly. her own thighs clenching at the sound of you gasping as she added another finger, curling them methodically inside of you.

she stretched you out perfectly, her fingers moving at just the right speed to have you moaning with every thrust into you. her pace and pressure increased with the volume of your whimpers, back arched into her touch and face buried in your arms as her fingers pressed perfectly inside of you. she curled her fingers to press against your g-spot, mentally noting how perfect you sounded chanting her name. taking advantage of you being preoccupied by the pleasure, she moved to lay her tongue flat against your clit. fingers still moving inside you as she carefully flicked the bundle of nerves between her lips.

a moan rattled from the back of her throat as you coated her taste buds, the vibrations travelling straight to the fire now raging in the pit of your stomach and coursing through your legs - coaxing out a moan of your own.

she felt you tense and squeeze around her fingers, your clit throbbing against her mouth when she lifted her eyes to survey the scene above her. your eyes screwed shut and teeth gripping your bottom lip so tight it was sure to leave a mark. chest heaving and hands twisting in the sheets.

"you going to cum for me?"

“y-yes,” you stuttered, eyes rolling into the back of your head when her fingers curled a final time and she took your clit into her mouth with a pop.

“thats it. good girl.”

that was all it took for you, your orgasm crashing through your body and shaking through your limbs. legs shaking beside her head and cunt tensing around her fingers. back arched and screaming out her name.

katie let you ride it out, only stilling her fingers and withdrawing her tongue from you when your back finally laid against the bed again - catching your breath. she brought her fingers up to your mouth and slipped them past your lips for a second as she moved to straddle you, climbing up from the floor. her fingers dragged down the length of your chin and were replaced with her mouth, her tongue finding yours - allowing you to taste yourself from her mouth.

"wanna taste you," you managed to croak out through the kisses, gulping and lifting your hands to press against her chest. pushing her back and towards the pillows at the head of the bed until she was laid down. "my turn.." you whispered seductively in her ear, lips pursed and leaving small kisses in your path as you travelled down the length of her body.

her tracksuit bottoms were removed quickly and your fingers were hooked into the band of her underwear, pulling them down her tanned legs until they followed the rest of the clothes to reside on the floor. she was dripping, and the sight alone was enough to have you salivating below her.

the scrunchie in your hair had loosened after the previous events of the evening, and your hair was limp enough for her to slide her hand into the back of your locks. gripping tightly and pulling you closer to her pussy.

"go on, make me feel good."

you needed no further instruction, moving closer to her before she had even finished the sentence. you laid your tongue flat against her, lapping her up. she tasted almost as good as she looked. her eyes focused on you and her hand tight against your scalp, guiding you.

you couldn't look away, allowing her to take you as she wanted. moving your head against the rhythm of her hips - moaning your name when your eyes met hers innocently. her head fell against the headboard when you whimpered against her, her own noises mirroring yours as her legs started to close around your head.

"fuck, thats it. i'm gonna cum," she groaned, both hands on the back of your head as you drank her in. nodding eagerly between her thighs, silently begging for her to cum for you.

and she did. hard. crying your name out into the room around you, followed by a string of curses until she finally released your head from her hands and her legs laid limp beside her on the bed.

"jesus christ."

"nope, just me." you teased, now occupying the space beside her on the pillows. both of your bodies coated in a sheen layer of sweat and your eyes threatened to close with the sound of her steady breathing when her arms moved to embrace you.

"i didn't mean to just disappear how i did," she began, causing you to look at her again. "i just didn't want you to get caught up in the shit show that is my life,"

"katie, you could've just said you needed a bit of space,"

"but i don't think that's what i wanted, i just didn't to ruin what we were doing, and well, making.." she paused, taking one of your hands into her own and bringing her lips to press against the skin.

"you were just too sweet to me,"

[woso-dreamzzz]

Foster

Meadema x Teen!Reader

Summary: You're taken to a new home

You meet Beth and Viv two days after the new year begins.

Social services came around for the last time in the evening two days ago. They found you, curled up on the floor of your wardrobe, having locked it from the inside with a chain of interlocking hairbands.

Your father had been passed out on the landing and your mother was high out of her mind in the kitchen.

You got woken up, told to pack and taken away. You spend the night in your new social worker's office and then you're brought to their house.

Beth and Viv greet you at the door. You only know who they are because your social worker gave you the file before she dumped you here.

"Your room's pretty bare," Beth explains," We can go and get decorations if you want later today."

You survey the room. "It's fine."

It's more than fine. Your old room was a dirty old mattress that you're sure your uncle and cousins stole. Your wardrobe was second-hand and falling apart while your desk had different-sized legs and the accompanying chair didn't have a backrest so was functionally a stool.

"Are you sure?" Beth looks around the room. "We can get decorations. It's no problem."

"It's good," You confirm, placing your bin bag down on the bed (a bed with an actual bed frame!).

"Okay," Viv says," We'll let you unpack while we make lunch. Any allergies?"

You shake your head.

"We'll see you soon."

Unpacking is done embarrassingly quickly and you linger a bit longer to not look too pathetic in front of Beth and Viv. It's little more than twiddling your thumbs and staring at the clock on your bedside table.

You didn't have a bedside table at home so that's kind of nice. It's got drawers on it so you would be able to stash food in it if you needed to.

Beth and Viv seem like nice people but you can never be quite too sure. It's not your first rodeo in the foster system. Your parents cleaned up their act last time so there's a chance they'll do the same this time though, judging by the way your father was passed out on the stairs, you wouldn't be surprised if he ended up dead by alcohol poisoning.

You sigh softly as you get off the bed, stretching out your back in preparation before exiting the room.

"Hey," Viv says when she notices you lingering in the background," Lunch is ready if you want to sit."

You can't quite tell if she's just being nice or if this is an order. She looks a bit more stern than Beth does so you do what she says. Today's not the day to test boundaries.

She smiles though, when you sit down and slides you a plate. "I didn't know what you like so I just put on a bit of everything."

You look down at your plate and can't help the smile. She's made sure that everything's separate too, so nothing's touching and nothing will taint each piece of food.

"Thanks," You say softly, digging in. You don't know when they'll next give you a meal so it's better to gorge yourself now. You've got your hoard of food from your horse hidden in the drawers of your bedside table but you'll have to stock up soon because some of that stuff will be out of date very soon and you're not desperate enough to eat spoiled food just yet.

"Have you got a phone?" Beth asks.

You shake your head. You didn't even have wifi back home which really sucked when you were meant to do research for school.

"Here." She chucks a box at you with a smile.

You catch it out of the air and look at it. It's a phone. A brand new one by the looks of it.

You look at Beth and Viv in shock. Your previous foster parents had never given you things like this before. You'd gotten given a brick phone a few years ago when you were first separated from your parents but that had been flogged for drug money almost as soon as you got reunited.

"I..." You swallowed thickly to quell the tears you knew would spill down your cheeks sooner rather than later. "Thank you..."

"No problem," Beth says," Once you get it all set up, I can give you the Netflix password. There's a laptop coming too but we forgot to order it until last night. It should be here soon though, for your school work."

"Thank you..."

You feel a bit like a broken record, incapable of doing anything but repeating the same two words over and over again.

Viv smiles as well, sliding a bag of non-perishables at you. She doesn't say anything about it but you knew that she knew. You're not too sure how she knew but it must have been written in your file somewhere.

Your old social workers had noted a few times that you hoarded food like you were about to go into hibernation.

You like that Viv doesn't make a big deal out of it though. She just slides you the bag and nods.

You're oddly flattered and your opinion of Beth and Viv is cemented in your heart pretty quickly.

You just hope that they don't betray your trust because they're already shaping up to be the best set of foster parents you've ever had and all they're really doing is the bare minimum.

You glance around the house.

It looks nice. It's pretty cosy and warm.

You nod to yourself, looking down at the bag bashfully.

You think that you'll like it here.

[luveline]

hi hello!! I want to say I absolutely adore and love your writing and have for a few years now! I have a steve request (could fit with kbd or not!) (also so self indulgent lol) where reader grew up with a very emotionally distant father and was determined to make her own family so different than the one she grew up with, and sees steve be so kind and loving towards their children and is so happy her kids won’t feel how she does with her own father and thanks him for being wonderful 🫶🏽 sorry so long and personal but i know you would write this so beautifully!!

thank u for requesting! dad!steve x mom!reader, 1.4k

“What do you want to get your sister for her birthday?” 

You can barely hear his whispering, let alone Avery’s response. “We want…” she’s lisping and listing, unfamiliar with her own voice even as her vocabulary grows, “to get her… um, a big teddy bear.” 

“How big?” Steve whispers back. 

You hold Bethie’s face above your shoulder, your arm around her, the other patting the base of her spine. She’s getting heavy, but she’s only little. She can barely speak, only mumble nonsense into your neck as she fights sleep. “Shh, shh,” you shush her gently. “It’s okay, Bethie.” 

Across the landing, Avery and Steve lay on their stomachs in her room. There’s a pad of paper between them and crayons spilled rainbow across the carpet. Steve draws without looking up; he’s a brilliant artist even now he doesn’t have time for it. Avery chokes a purple crayon with each of her fingers and draws a huge jagged line under his work. “What’s that?” he asks. 

“Lightning. I think we should get her a big teddy, like, big as your hands.” 

“That’s not big in terms of teddy bear, honey.” 

“Oh.” 

“What’s the lightning for?” 

“The cloud.” 

“You want me to draw some puddles?” 

She thinks Steve being able to draw things near immediately is as magical as the television, and the radio. Something seemingly out of nothing. She doesn’t understand how often he’d practise, didn’t see his box of sketchbooks, the hundreds of iterations of your face, your hands, the trees lining the street on the way to your first apartment, her baby wrinkles. 

“What else should we get for Beth?” 

“Um.” Avery pauses, lifting her face to Steve’s. An odd feeling swells when he immediately looks up from the paper pad to meet her eyes. He smiles at her. She smiles back. “Why are we smiling?” she asks eventually. 

“I’m just looking at you. You know you’re beautiful.” 

“I don’t know!” she says, immediately flustered. 

“Yes, you do. You’re sooo pretty, like mommy.” He reaches over to chuck her chin gently with his knuckle. “That’s why I’m smiling. Looking at you makes me happy.” 

“Looking at you makes me happy.” 

His chin tucks in gently. “It’s ‘cos we love each other.” 

“Yes,” Avery says, like she’d suggested it herself. “That’s what it is.” 

You feel Beth fall asleep though you can’t see her. She curls into you all warm and soft, her pyjamas and her hair tickling you, her soft snores damp against your shoulder. You press a kiss to her arm.

Laid to bed for the night, you dot another kiss onto Beth’s smooth forehead and turn out her light, shutting the door carefully so as not to make any noise. 

Avery and Steve are still on the floor, though she’s climbed over the pad to hug him. They look funny, both on their tummies, Steve’s long legs out. He’s sort of curling around her, his nose to the side of her neck, his one arm up on an elbow and the other behind her back. 

“I love you too,” he’s saying. 

“A lot.”

“Yeah, Avery. So much they don’t have a word for it.” 

“It’s a big feeling.” 

“Love is the biggest feeling.” 

She laughs as he starts to tip onto his side. One moment she’s on her belly and the next he’s pulled her onto his chest, totally corkscrewed her and then put her right. “Let’s stay here forever,” he says. 

You’re pretty sure your father would’ve had a heart attack rather than confess he liked you. It’s a weird thing to know you’re loved —to be told you’re loved without being told, to expect it because you should— but to feel the absence of it more strongly. Your father never would’ve laid down with you like that. He wouldn’t have kissed you behind the ear, or talked about big feelings without hesitation. He never looked after you like that. 

“Your back will hurt.”

“Avery, my back always hurts.” 

“Not good. You can go to the hospital.” 

“I don’t think I’ll go to hospital, I’ll,” —he feels you watching, and smiles at you as he tips his head to see you— “be okay without that. Maybe I’ll go to the doctor at his office instead.” 

“Okay.” 

“Okay.” He rubs her back. “Thanks, honey.”

Later, after you’ve knelt down to draw with them for a while and Avery’s succumbed to the childhood pain of feeling sleepy, you’re sliding clean towels onto a shelf in the linen closet with Steve beside you choosing new sheets for the next two (or four depending on how busy things get) weeks. It’s not work that needs talking, and after a few years together you start to run out of things to say, but you decide you’ll fill it anyway. 

“Thanks.” 

“For what?” 

“You’re a good dad.”

Steve kisses your cheek, squeezing your arm as he bundles the new linens to his chest and passes back out of the closet. You follow him out. 

“Hey, I mean it,” you say. 

Steve looks at you in surprise. “Oh, sorry. That’s the miscommunication thing, right? I was supposed to say something, not just kiss you.” 

“No, I don’t need you to acknowledge me, Steve.” You laugh softly, “Just need you to know. You’re such a good dad. It means a lot to me that you’re so good because I know they can feel it. The girls.” You clear your throat. 

You hadn’t been expecting to get teary. Heat burns behind your eyes unbidden. 

Steve’s eyebrows jump. “You’re upset?” 

“It’s such a relief to know you’re you.” 

And Steve must understand how you feel about it, his parents stunningly absent for the majority of his teen years and even now. You don’t see them much, but when you do you’re greeted with handshakes and strange looks, like this is a blip in both of your lives. Like somehow your children will grow themselves and Steve can be the man they wanted him to be. He knows what it’s like to be alone and not enough. To miss the mark. To physically feel the space between you and the person who should love you most. 

He puts the linens on the end of the bed before standing in front of you. Your cheek is warm in his hand when he gives it a brief squeeze, your shoulder less so, your hand similarly cold. He threads your fingers together for a playful yank. “What are you thinking about?” he asks seriously. 

“Avery’s never gonna question if you love her.” 

He shakes his head. “Nope.” 

“You’re very emotionally mature.” 

“Wouldn’t say that.” 

“Me neither.” 

He looks tired tonight, hair falling into his eyes, t-shirt ill-fitting, rumpled at the hem, and his voice slightly scratchy as he murmurs, “Loving you makes me who I am, maybe you should be thanking yourself.” His lips twitch. “I should’ve said that at our wedding.” 

“You should’ve, I bet your mom would’ve cried.” 

“I doubt it.” 

He opens his arms invitingly, and you fall into one another for a quick, tight hug. You’d been expecting a longer embrace with a sweeter touch, but you know why he’s doing it this way: he doesn’t want to cry before bed, and the wound of your absent parents is a weary one. It’s taken too much time and energy from you both already. 

“Love you,” he says. 

You weasel your head back to take him in, savouring the stretch of his hands behind your shoulders and his genuine smile. “Biggest feeling in the world,” you say. 

“Liked that one?” he asks, encouraging your face back into his neck. “You gave me a family,” he adds, quieter, “I don’t really get how there are parents walking around who aren’t obsessed with their kids. I love them so much I can’t breathe sometimes. All i want is to make sure they know that… I was looking at Avery earlier and I couldn’t believe she was mine.”

“Steve.” 

“I think she has my two moles on her cheek. That’s crazy.” 

“What?” 

You and Steve creep into her bedroom to investigate. Sleeping, she’s his carbon copy, and sure enough, on her right cheek just adjacent to her lips, she has two small moles just like him. 

[abiiors]

the boy next door // matty healy x reader

valentine's week - day 3: stupid cupid

a/n: a cliche stuck in an elevator with your hot neighbour fic cw: verrrryyyy suggestive, bad flirting, alludes to masturbation, sex toys wc: 3.8k

your package is out for delivery. 

the old email notification catches your eye while you’re doomscrolling through meaningless tiktoks, spread on your bed like a starfish. it’s not like you have no other work to do and yet you can’t help but refresh and refresh your email some more for any other updates. it’s four hours old by now and right at the top of your inbox. and yet the package isn’t here yet! you huff a bit and loudly curse at the delivery company. 

this is an important package, damn it! plus there’s the anticipation churning in your gut…

because you don't know how much you can trust the promises of a “discrete packaging.” what if the delivery driver just left it at your door? what if instead of plain cardboard packaging it has a massive red dildo on it and the words vibrator inside printed on top. 

it’s an insane thought, you know it is, still you already have a whole tongue-lashing ready for your best friend. 

“get a tiny pink bullet for yourself,” beth had said and then closed her eyes in delight, “especially the two-in-ones.” 

you had to slap her thigh before the conversation became any lewder but the thought stuck in your head, worming its way into the forefront of your mind at random times of the day. and no matter how hard you tried, you could not get it to go away…

especially with the thoughts of the neighbour—

no!

you will not think of that obnoxious boy, you will not think about his wild, messy curls and certainly not about his cheeky smile. you will not think about his sweaty tank top sticking to his body and how his stupid tattoos stand out against his stupid, toned arms. you will not think of matt–whatever his name is!

you huff, refreshing the email again, and jump when you see a new email has come through—literally one second ago. 

your package has been delivered. thank you for choosing cupid.

wait, what? 

you still in place, waiting to hear the shuffle of footsteps outside your front door. did you just miss someone ringing the doorbell? did this person just knock and leave the package outside? feeling like a lunatic for hyper-focusing on this one thing, you chuck your phone back on the bed. maybe the email was a mistake, maybe you should just wait for another hour or two and then launch into calling customer service. 

a tiny part of your brain tells you that this is exactly why your best friend had asked you to buy a toy for yourself…so you can relax a little and not be so wired all the time. but look at you now…stressing about the one thing that’s supposed to be relaxing. 

“you suck!” you type on your phone petulantly, a text to beth. but you know she will call you and laugh at you for five minutes straight if she found out.

rather maturely, you stick your tongue out at the phone too and flop back on the bed. why couldn’t you have had a busy day today of all days? unconsciously, your hand drifts lower, toying with the strings of your shorts now. you're not even particularly needy or turned on; just bored. and your mind is clearly occupied with one thing…

the thin cotton tank top you're wearing does nothing to hide your hardening nipples. your fingers touch and tease—the insides of your thighs, around your belly button, right under the waistband, and you find your thoughts drifting to the boy again. 

he’s hardly a boy; he looks like he’s the same age as you, and yet you can’t help but think of his boyish grins and shameless, open flirting. you're sure you have heard him trying to flirt with david, your sixty year old mailman before, although he might have been drunk then, judging by the wet kiss he’d placed on the old man’s cheek. the mailman had only laughed and swatted him away.  

you remember his voice; smooth and sweet like honey, full of laughter. his pretty curls that fell in his eyes. his eyes…framed by lovely, long lashes that rest on his cheeks. his eyes that make you feel like the only girl in the world if he ever looks at you. 

your fingers dip lower, almost touching the bundle of nerves, one hand touching your nipples as your toes curl into the mattress.

why are you even thinking about him? you should be thinking about one of your other crushes. you should be thinking about andrew garfield or oscar isaac or one of the several other men you have watched thirsty edits of. instead, your thoughts linger on messy curls and sparkling brown eyes. 

your face flushes deep and hot at the first brush of your fingers. so what if cupid doesn’t deliver? you’re perfectly capable of getting off by yourself, you’re not that desp—

you almost jumps out of your skin when the bell rings—extra loud and extra harsh. 

your heart thuds in your chest so hard that it almost crawls out of your throat. fuck! you have to clutch your chest to steady yourself a bit. fuck, fuck, fuck!

deep breaths…

one, two, three…

another deep breath…

there we go…

the bell rings again and you glare its general direction. first, they’re late and now they can’t even be bothered to be patient? muttering to herself like an old witch, you stomp towards the door. 

“couldn’t even give me two minutes?” you yank the door open hard enough to make the hinges creak and then freeze in your tracks. 

it’s not a delivery person. it’s the boy, looking at you with all the interest in the world. 

he’s simply dressed in a plain black t-shirt and grey sweatpants—the slut uniform, you think darkly. but you can’t help the way your eyes linger on how snugly the t-shirt fits, how the sleeves cut off at just the right place so you can see the muscles peaking out from underneath. in return he does the same; shamelessly lets his eyes run all over your body. and suddenly you hyper aware of how you look. 

hardened nipples poking out from under the tank top, face flushed and hair messy, the strings to your shorts are no doubt undone. you defensively crosses your arms over your chest and jut your chin up at him. nothing but haughtiness and challenge. 

“what do you want?”

fuck, why is your voice so breathless now of all times?! and that’s when you see it, the plain brown box in his hands. 

“this was delivered to me,” he smirks and then proceeds to read out your full name off of the box. “yours, i’m guessing?”

you try your hardest not to snatch the box out of his hands because the longer it’s in his hands, the longer your brain tries to remind you of what—who—you were thinking about two minutes ago, the longer you have to actively refrain from dwelling on him saying your name in that stupidly sexy voice of his. so you make a show of tapping your foot impatiently and hold out your hand. 

it’s painful to just stand there and not thank him but you will not feed into his arrogance! you simply refuse. 

the boy shrugs his shoulders and gives you another once over, then places the box in your waiting hands. “looks like you don’t need it to get the party started though.”

your jaw drops to the floor as incredulity floods your body. the sheer AUDACITY! 

the boy simply presents you with a mocking little bow and turns on his heels. then he strolls away like he owns the place. and you remain standing at the front door, speechless and fuming, trying not to stare at his infuriatingly cute butt.

the boy is infiltrating your dreams. 

well, no, infiltrating is perhaps not the right word. but the boy is there now, smirking like he knows everything about you. somehow, in your dreams, he’s shirtless, only wearing a pair of grey sweatpants. your body betrays you as your eyes stray lower, dying to find some evidence of what’s on his mind. if it’s the same thing you have had on yours. 

the insufferable tone of his voice grates on you, saying your name over and over again, each time with a different inflection in his tone—commanding and needy and sultry until your head spins and loses all meaning of the word. 

the dream plays out the same way each time; he steps closer until you can feel the heat of his breath on your skin, feel the goosebumps rise in its wake. you don’t touch, you never touch yet somehow, you feel the heat radiating off him and permeating through your veins. the heat, like molten lava, mixes in your bloodstream and flows through your entire body before, inevitably, it pools between your legs. 

the boy says your name again, only a whisper this time but it sounds so real that you almost call out to him, reaching out. but you always wake up, hot and gasping for air, before you can feel his skin under your hands. 

not that your brain would know what that feels like. 

as you sit up on your bed, head still spinning, trying to get your breathing under control, your mind flashes with the tiny pink bullet currently in your closet. 

it hasn’t been unboxed yet. you refuse to do it until you’re sure you can get your thoughts under control, until you’re sure you won’t think of his pretty curls tickling the insides of your thigh. 

but now, as you clench your thighs together for some friction, you desperately want to.

helplessly, you stare up at the ceiling; 6:53 am, there’s no point in going back to sleep for 7 more minutes. besides, you're too worked up to fall back asleep. 

the morning turns out to be a disaster. absentmindedly, you use bodywash to wash your hair, put an extra teaspoon of sugar in your coffee, accidentally drop your favourite red lipstick when it’s halfway rolled out of the tube. 

all in all, by the time you're ready to get out of the door, you're frustrated, nearly in tears and ready to just call in sick and go back to bed. 

on top of that, only when you’re already downstairs do you realise that you’ve forgotten your phone at home. resisting the urge to stomp your feet like a toddler, you turn around and enters the lift once again and press the circular number 10. 

a moment later, the metal doors are about to close, only an inch-wide gap left between them when they stop in place and start opening again. 

god, what now?! 

uncharacteristically annoyed and feeling extremely petty, you do the one thing you shouldn’t—you jab your finger into the “close door” button. repeatedly. 

and that’s the exact moment the boy wedges himself in the gap and raises an eyebrow at you. his entire face changes when he sees the annoyed expression on your face, going from puzzled to delighted to cocky in under a second and his mouth quirks up into a smile that can only be described as evil. you stare at your feet, face flaming, clearly caught red-handed until the doors finally close. 

“in a hurry?” he prods. “you look peeved.”

you look at him in annoyance, trying very, very hard not to stare at any part of him at all—not at his slightly damp hair, or his tank top. not at the gym bang slung casually on his shoulder, or his sweatpants (black this time). you definitely do not look at all the tattoos on his arms that you hadn’t seen before. 

“‘m fine,” you mumble quickly and look away. he clicks his tongue. 

“boyfriend pissed you off?”

you stare straight ahead, willing the ancient lift to go faster. the boy doesn’t give up. 

“oh shit,” he whistles lowly, “girlfriend pissed you off?”

“no one pissed me off.” besides you, you think darkly but reign the thoughts in. there’s no need to be a bitch just because you’ve woken up on the wrong side of the bed. 

“sure,” he shrugs and you’re rewarded with a blissfully silent second. just as you’re about to thank your lucky stars, the boy opens his mouth again. 

“i’m matty,” he smiles. “we’re neighbours.”

“oh i know, i’ve seen you around.”

he hums and puts his hands in his pockets, leaning against the metal wall of the lift. it’s unusually slow today, creaky and janky while going up when you should have already been at the tenth floor by now. matty’s eyebrows furrow. unconsciously you mimic his expression, and the elevator groans loudly. 

a hint of panic shoots through your body, and you whip your head to look at the display that flickers with a faint blue number 7. the whole thing wobbles, frantically, you throw out at arm, grasping at the first thing you can find which just so happens to be matty’s (very toned) arm. his eyes go round too. you murmur a couple of curses, the lights flicker. and then it all goes silent. 

with a last whine, the lift comes to a grinding halt and both of you mumble “fuck” in unison.

“stuck on an elevator with my pretty neighbour, what a cliche,” he snorts to himself, and you resist the urge to gape at him. 

his pretty neighbour, you conceal the little smile making its way onto your face and pointedly ignore the warmth spreading across your cheeks. matty, however, looks at you with all the interest in the world. 

“where were you headed? somewhere special?”

“it’s a…wednesday, matty,” you deadpan, staring at him like he’s grown two heads but he clicks his tongue like you’ve just missed the most obvious thing in the world. 

“well… it’s valentine’s day.”

oh. yeah, that it is. a slight flush of embarrassment creeps up your cheeks and you try not to feel like a loser at not clocking it instantly. well, doesn’t matter anyway, does it? you’ve basically announced to him that you’re absolutely alone today of all days. so single, in fact, that you didn’t even remember the existence of valentine’s day. 

and then there’s the fact that he knows about the vibrator. 

“can you call someone?” you scramble to change the topic and look around the tiny metal box for any hint of an emergency exit. “i left my phone back home.”

“i don’t have any bars,” he frowns and crosses his arms in front of him. his biceps bulge and you avert your eyes immediately. 

“so we’re proper stuck then.”

“i guess. i mean… someone has to come looking for us right?”

matty thinks for a moment, rolling his tongue inside his mouth, briefly catching his bottom lip between his teeth. “sure, david makes his rounds at noon.”

“noon?!” you screech and matty bursts into a fit of giggles. 

“you are so uptight!” he teases, “i’m sure the building security already noticed this absolute disaster.”

you resist the urge to deck him and take a deep breath. 

one, two, three…

another deep breath…

there we go…

“matthew—”

“oooh!”

“matty! focus!” that shuts him up for about two whole seconds before he’s trying to stifle a smile again. “how long have we been in here anyway?”

“about five minutes. why? are you not having a great time?” he winks, he actually fucking winks, and you choke on air, trying not to cough violently while matty presses a hand to his mouth and looks at you in amusement. 

“you’re laughing at me!” you accuse and that just sets him off even more. 

“if i said yes? what will you do about it?”

really what you want to do about it is wipe that insufferably gorgeous smile off his face. stupidly, you wonder what would happen if you kissed him right now… not even a grand, romantic kiss, just a random one to see how he’d react. would he blush and fluster? or would he kiss you right back just to see how long it would take you to back down. 

suddenly, the space feels so much smaller than it is. this is not what you should be focusing on right now, not your hot neighbour who flirts with everyone. you should be trying to find a way out of here, and figure out a way to reach work on time. matty seems to be bothered by none of that. 

he simply puts his gym bag down and sits on the floor of the elevator as if this were his living room. 

“don’t worry your pretty little head, sweetheart. you’ll be fine.”

you make a tiny strangled sound at the back of your throat, something that can only be described as a squeak. 

“you’re not worried at all?”

“what? after—” he checks his phone, “ten minutes? not really no. ‘sides you’re great company.” 

matty eyes you properly then, blatantly checking you out, and you wonder how insane you must look. you wonder if your hair’s all crazy and poofy and hurriedly smooth it down. 

“sit,” he suggests. 

“on the floor?” you wrinkle your nose, shuddering at the thought of all the dirt and germs crawling on the floor but matty smirks. 

“would you rather sit on my lap then?”

“oh my god!” your blood heats, “what the fuck is wrong with you!”

“alright,” he raises his hands in surrender, “thought i’d offer, y’know? considering…”

“considering…?”

“oh don’t pretend like you weren’t checking out my arse the other day.”

you sqwak indignantly, stammering out denials and gesticulating wildly while matty’s amusement grows steadily. he even has the nerve to wave you away and pretend like you aren’t blushing to your roots right now. like his nonchalance doesn’t do something funny to your chest. 

“you never even thanked me,” he teases. “i could have easily kept the package you know? real useful stuff…”

any hopes you had of him not knowing what it was drains away instantly. there’s no reason he would have that shit-eating grinning on his face if he didn’t know exactly what it was. your brain picks that exact moment to conjure up an image of him with that tiny little bullet—buzzing fills your head, along with images of matty running it along his stomach, his thighs, going lower. images of his lip caught between his teeth and his eyes rolling back. 

“you’re so–so—” you stutter, unable to come up with a single word. 

“attractive? charming? irresistible?”

“annoying!”

he clutches his chest dramatically, the tank top moves and you get a glimpse of another tattoo on his chest, one you’ve never seen before. matty’s eyes follow your gaze and his eyes twinkle playfully. 

“would you like me to take it off, sweetheart?”

your face feels like it's on fire, and you scramble to find words, any words, to steer the conversation away from the dangerous territory it's heading. "no, no! will you stop flirting with me for a second and focus on getting out of here?”

matty chuckles, the sound sending shivers down your spine. “you’re so fun to fluster. and what are you gonna do? pry the doors open with your bare hands?”

“if i must,” you huff and wonder if it might be too insane to at least give it a try. 

matty snorts, clearing reading the look on your face. “it’s like we’re in a rom-com—”

“ew!”

“next thing you know,” he continues as if you’d not spoken at all, “we are giving into our base urges and tearing each other’s clothes apart.”

“absolutely not, there’s a camera in the corner!”

a surprised laugh spills out of matty, sharp and high and you whip your head to him so hard you almost get whiplash. it’s the first genuine laugh you’ve heard from it, the first one that doesn’t sound like it has a hidden agenda. it’s funny and impish, it settles into your bones. and before you know it, you’re giggling along too, shaking your head at how silly the situation is. 

“she jokes!” he giggles and you roll your eyes, this time, it’s even a little affectionate. 

“fuck off. the lack of oxygen is getting to me.” 

you both snort again, exactly at the same time and it leads to another round of giggles. you’re so caught up in it that you barely even notice when the lift wobbles again and jerks up. matty jumps up. and the doors finally ding open to the corridor of the eighth floor. 

“fucking finally,” you whoop and run out of the metal contraption, doing a silly little dance the moment you’re fully outside. matty follows suit and stops to stare at you. 

his eyes are full of warmth, his mouth quirks up into another genuine smile. “maybe we should get stuck in lifts more often if this is what i get to see after.”

“shut up,” you swat at his arm, dying to feel it under your hands again, to feel the muscles tense up as you grip onto them tightly. 

“make—”

“don’t you dare!” but it’s too late, you’re already shaking your head at his antics. begrudgingly, you admit to yourself that he is pretty funny. more than that, he’s pretty fun to be around. 

maybe, possibly, you even want to be around him more. 

“so, now that we've narrowly escaped a brutal death, what's the plan?” matty asks, glancing around the hallway. you take a moment to collect your thoughts and realise that you still need to retrieve your forgotten phone and that’s it’s probably too late to go to work now. 

“i don’t even know,” you frown, “i’ll probably just call in sick from work.”

“so you’re free then.”

“i guess i am…”

“and it’s valentine’s day.”

“i guess it is…” you narrow your eyes and stare at him, at his suggestive smile and pretty face. “are you asking me out matthew?”

“so hot when you call me that.” he giggles and dances away when you try to flick him. “so violent,” he mumbles and you shake your head at him. 

“fine, yes. i am asking you out.” 

“tempting,” you stick your tongue out at him and turn away to the stairwell. “but you’ll just have to try again, pretty boy.”

you make sure to add extra sway to your hips when you walk away, feeling his very obvious and burning stare on your ass the whole time. satisfaction floods through you and you smile to yourself at how the tables have turned. 

“oh i will, sweetheart,” he calls out just as you’re about to turn round the corner, “can’t let such a pretty neighbour just get away like that.” 

lemme know what you think <33

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[the-name-is-z]

SKELETONS | ch. 16

daryl dixon x f!oc

masterlist

a03 link

Summary: Iris quickly recovers from her accident and has a brief discussion with Daryl. Rick decides the group needs to know a little more self-defence. Warnings/Information: AMC's The Walking Dead OC Insert | 18+ Advised | strangers to lovers; the slowest of slow burns; gore; angst; horror; humour; m/f; recovering from a car accident, daryl being sentimental (yes, deserving of a warning), discussion of surgery, training a kid to use knives, walker dismemberment

Chapter 16 - Recover

When they pulled in and Iris shambled off of the bike, she ignored Daryl as she staggered toward the camp. Andrea, Lori, Carl, Dale and T-Dog came rushing toward her. Shane was nowhere to be seen, and she was glad for it.

“Oh my god, are you alright? What happened?” Lori asked.

“Fuckin’ deer.” Iris mumbled, reaching up to touch her head wound and scratching off some of the blood. “I’m fine.”

“Come on, let’s make sure you’re alright.” Dale beckoned, pulling her into the house. Andrea handed her a glass of water.

“Thanks.” She mumbled. Carl came in quick, followed by an exasperated Lori.

“I’m so sorry, sweetie, I never meant for this—“ Lori began.

“It’s alright. Not your fault. I’m sorry I couldn’t bring them back.” Iris replied, her speech a little slurred. Lori shook her head.

“Shane went to find them.” She murmured. Iris nodded, running a hand over her face.

“I’m glad you’re okay.” Carl said, offering her a smile. Iris tried to reciprocate, flicking his large hat.

“Thanks, cowboy.” She replied.

Daryl peered through the window into the sitting room from sitting on top of his bike, messing with the rubber of the grips. 

-

Beth was still dehydrated and catatonic in the morning, and Iris was annoyed at the throbbing headache in her brain by the name of Daryl Dixon. Also, the real, painfully throbbing headache from her concussion. Just thinking about their conversation irritated her. Not because she was genuinely mad, because she wasn’t. But because an argument like that was so incredibly childish given the circumstances. It was petty and ridiculous, and had no real merit. She knew it, Daryl knew it, and yet it sort of felt good to just let off a little bit of steam. But not at the expense of a concussion.

Iris stepped into the bedroom of the farmhouse to see Maggie sitting beside her sister, stroking her hair. She had her hand clutched tightly around Beth’s, small tears in her eyes.

“How’s she doing?” Iris asked.

“Okay, as far as I can tell.” Maggie murmured.

“Do you need anything?” Iris asked, tilting her head. Maggie offered her a small smile.

“Nah, I just wish my dad was here.” She replied.

“She’s a strong kid.” Iris stated and Maggie nodded, more tears lining her eyes.

“I was just reminding her about— nevermind.” She murmured.

“About what? I’d love to hear…” Iris replied softly.

“My dad would die if he heard this.” Maggie grinned. “My first summer back from college, I drove home, dumped my stuff off, went straight out to the stable for a ride. My family comes back from church and Beth grabs my things and starts unpacking my stuff upstairs.”

“That’s sweet.”

“Yeah, until this one here starts rifling through my backpack. She finds this little plastic container with these pink and green candies inside.” Maggie continues. Iris smirked knowingly, nodding along. “She didn’t even know I was on the pill. She was so freaked out by the idea of me, boys and sex that she runs outside and chucks them in the duck pond. And I ride up, I see this, I’m screaming. She’s crying and Shawn runs outside, thinks one of us is drowning. 

Soon as he figures out what’s going on, the jerk busts out laughing so loud that my horse rears up and gets mud all over the three of us. My dad comes out, ‘what the heck is going on out here?!’ and she turns around, bats her eyelids and says, ‘we’re just swimming, daddy.’ In her Sunday dress, all covered in snot and mud.” She stopped, sniffing as a tear ran down her cheek.

“Rick, and Glenn, they'll get Hershel. They’ll be back soon and she’ll be up and at ‘em.” Iris consoled. Maggie nodded.

“Glenn’s a good guy.” She murmured.

“Yeah, he is.” Iris replied, offering a teasing grin. Maggie huffed at her expression, rolling her eyes playfully.

-

“You sure you wanna come?” Shane asked as he and Daryl loaded the back of the SUV with weapons. Daryl looked slightly out of place wearing a shirt with sleeves, his red bandana tied around his neck. He did have his angel-wing leather vest, however, which eerily reminded Iris of home.

“Bite me, Shane.” Iris replied sweetly, offering a smile as she double-checked all her knives. Daryl’s lips curled up at the corner and he looked up, seeing Iris turn away from him. Shane raised an eyebrow, exhaling through his nose as he slammed the trunk shut. T-Dog and Andrea walked over, bringing over some food for the road, just in case.

“Guys.” Andrea said, pointing to the road. A red chevy was driving toward the farm, rather quickly. They didn’t stop at the camp, instead pulling right up to the house. Carl and Lori came out right away, everyone at the camp jogging to meet them. Rick, Hershel and Glenn got out of the truck, present and accounted for, and seemingly unharmed.

“Dad!” Carl cried, leaping into his arms. Rick embraced him tightly, Lori joining quick. Maggie ran out and Hershel stepped forward, expecting to meet her, but she sidestepped him, hugging Glenn instead. Iris’ eyebrows shot up but she didn’t say anything as Hershel scoffed, walking toward Patricia.

“Patricia, prepare the shed for surgery.” He instructed sharply.

“Surgery?” Iris asked, frowning.

“Who the hell is that?” T-Dog asked, pointing to the unknown kid sitting in the backseat of the chevy. There was a strip of red fabric over his eyes like a blindfold, but he seemed either asleep or unconscious. His lips were pretty pale, and Iris suspected the kid was the one who was injured.

“That’s Randall.” Glenn answered, seemingly over-it. Daryl, Andrea, T-Dog and Dale approached him while Iris approached Rick with a few others, expecting an explanation.

“We couldn’t just leave him behind.” Rick offered once they all got reacquainted, gathering together in Hershel’s dining room. “He would’ve bled out, if he lived that long.”

“It’s gotten bad in town.” Glenn stated, shaking his head.

“What do we do with him?” Andrea asked.

-

“I repaired his calf muscle as best I can, but he’ll probably have nerve damage. Won’t be on his feet for at least a week.” Hershel announced, wiping his hands with a cloth as he walked into the room.

“Do we want him to be on his feet? We don’t know this kid.” Iris murmured.

“He’s just a kid.” Rick replied. “But once he’s up, we give him a canteen, take him out to the main road, send him on his way.”

“Isn’t that the same as leaving him for the walkers?” Andrea asked.

“Nope.” Iris said pointedly. 

“He’ll have a fighting chance.” Rick agreed, nodding.

“Just gonna let him go?” Shane asked with a scoff. “He knows where we are.”

“He was blindfolded the whole way here. He’s not a threat.” Rick retorted.

“Not a threat. How many of them were there? You killed three of their men, took one of them hostage, but they just ain’t gonna come looking?”

“They left him for dead. No one is looking.”

“We should still post a guard.” T-Dog murmured.

“He’s out cold right now, will be for hours.” Hershel explained.

“You know what? I’m gonna go get him some flowers and candy.” Shane spat. “Look at this, folks! We back in fantasyland.”

“You know, we haven’t even dealt with what you did at my barn yet.” Hershel said loudly, stepping toward Shane as he meant to leave. “Let me make this perfectly clear, once and for all— This is my farm. I wanted you gone. Rick talked me out of it, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it. So do us both a favour— keep your mouth shut.” Iris grinned widely. Shane sucked on a tooth, sighing as he looked over everyone around the table. He spun on his heel and left. 

The group slowly dispersed, cooling off as they got back into their rounds of… as close to normalcy as they could get. Iris leaned her head back as she stood in the sun, letting her skin soak up some vitamins before she went to sit in the shade. She heard the tall grass crunching behind her and opened one eye, looking at Daryl as he stood, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“If it isn’t my hero.” She murmured. She wasn’t mad about it anymore, but she wouldn’t let everything go right away.

“Don’t call me that.” He replied softly. She opened one eye again, turning to face him. “I ain’t your hero, and you ain’t mine. But you saved my life, and I saved yours. We’re even.”

“Are we?” Iris replied, raising an eyebrow. Daryl paused, looking down at his feet before shaking his head.

“Nah.” He muttered, stepping closer. Iris froze, unsure of his actions before he grabbed her hand and placed his red bandana into it, closing her fingers before letting it drop. She held it up before looking to him.

“What’s this for?”

“’s so it’s an even trade.” He replied simply. For the one she’d ripped and given him, to staunch his bleeding. At least, if she needed this one to save her life, it was already red. Her face softened as she looked down at the bandana in her hands, and he was almost uncomfortable with how genuinely she looked at him next.

“Thank you.” She said softly. He said nothing in return, simply nodding before turning and making his way back toward his tent. Iris didn’t think he, or anyone, frankly, noticed how much that bandana meant to her. But over the past week or so, she had found herself reaching for it and finding it gone. Now, at least, she had this one. 

Daryl didn’t bother to mention that he had also asked Carol if she could help him remove the stains from her old one and try to sew it back together.

-

Dale let Iris know that he’d explained to Rick how he felt about Shane, and what Shane had said to them. Each threat, each choice, each part of Shane that made him a danger to the group. And Rick took Shane on a little drive to set it all straight. Well, to drop off Randall as well, but to set Shane straight was a big part of it. Iris understood how Rick thought he should do things, but Shane was as much of a ticking time bomb as the damn CDC. Except his actions weren’t triggered by the ramblings of a crazy doctor, it was all him. 

Iris… she didn’t think Shane was going to make it. He was going to blow, or he was going to get exiled by the group, or he was going to be killed, or die. He wouldn’t do any of it without a fight, but the way Shane did things was not what built a long term community. An army, maybe. A group of crazed survivalists, but not a community. Not what the world needed.

“Iris.” Rick called, stalking across the camp. The triumphant leader returns. 

“Yeah.” She called, looking up from her knife collection. 

“Shane and I spoke, and we agreed that we need to start using our knives more. To keep quiet and save ammunition. Take a page from your book.” He explained, gesturing vaguely to her weaponry. She nodded, tipping an invisible hat dramatically. Rick’s lips quirked upward and he took a breath. He took everything so seriously. “I was hoping you could give us some direction at some point. Best ways to take down a walker with a knife, face to face or from a distance.”

“I’m not opposed, for sure. But the throwing thing, that comes from years of pre-walker practice.” Iris explained, sitting back and looking up as he squatted down next to her. She picked up a throwing knife, aiming and letting it fly. About twenty feet away, T-Dog lurched to the left as the knife embedded itself in a target she’d carved. “Sorry!” She called. He made a face, waving her off. Rick chuckled.

“Alright then. Face to face it is.” He agreed. “Can you start with Carl?” He asked. Iris blinked, but that was the only surprise she would show.

“Of course.” She nodded, shaking his hand as he got up and walked off to his next leadership task. She turned to see him kicking rocks up and down the road. He looked rather bored. “Hey, cowboy!”

“Yeah?” He asked. Iris waved him over and he started running, meeting halfway.

“Your dad wants me to teach you some knife skills. You in?” She asked. He grinned.

-

“Okay, we’ll start with this one, alright?” They were a little ways in the forest and she handed him an average size knife. Long enough, sharp enough, small enough. Lori and Rick both knew where they were and Carol volunteered to come with, to watch and learn. “This is a pretty standard size, good for learning. You can keep that one, okay? But you take care of it like a chef, you hear me?”

“Yes ma’am.” He agreed, flashing a grin.

“Now you can grip it forward, or you can grip it backward, but however you grip you stick with it so you don’t drop the knife. This determines how you stab the walker.” She explained. “Now the method that works the best is to take it down first, especially because a lot of ‘em are gonna be taller than you till you grow, okay?”

“Okay.” He stood up, copying her stance and she smiled. She whistled sharply, and a single walker groaned as it started toward them in the forest.

“You wanna kick out their knee. So you can do this from the front or behind, whichever is safest in the moment. From the front, you can either kick it out to break it, and the walker falls pretty straight, or you pull, and they fall toward you. That’s a little more dangerous. From the back, you kick forward so they fall away from you.” She explained. Once the walker got close enough, she demonstrated, and the walker slumped to the ground without much fight.

“What happens if it doesn’t fall the right way?” Carl asked.

“What matters is it gets on the ground and that you feel in control. If you panic, it gets unsafe.” Iris replied. "Now once the walker is on the ground, you pin ‘em. If they fall on their front, put your foot right here at the base of their neck, between their shoulders. Pins their head and arms sort of at the same time.” She replied. “C’mere, put your foot up, see how hard you have to hold it?”

“It’s strong.” He grunted, the walker fighting against the ground. 

“Mhm. Don’t underestimate them, alright? They might be mindless but that means they’ll do whatever it takes to sink their teeth in.” Iris warned. Carl nodded. She took over again, finding it much easier with more practice. “Here, I’ll dismember squirmy here for our practice.” She reached down with a longer knife, cutting off the walker’s arms so he couldn’t reach for them. Iris tossed them somewhere in the woods.

“Gross.” Carl recoiled, covering his nose because of the smell.

“Get used to it, cowboy.” Iris grinned. “Now until you get stronger, it’s better to find the weaker places on the skull to stab them. That means eyes, under the chin, in the ear, or here.” She pointed to places on her own head. “You can feel on your own head for the soft parts versus the thick skull.”

“Like right here?” He asked, pointing to a particularly soft spot on his own head.

“Bingo, little man.” She agreed. “Now why would it be better to choose a soft spot?”

“Because its easier to stab?” He asked.

“That’s half of it. Wanna venture a guess, Carol?” Iris called, catching her attention. Carol shrugged.

“So it’s easier to pull out?” She asked. Iris put her fingertip to her nose.

“Exactly. You find yourself in a position where you need to fight off more than one, it’s a hell of a lot easier when your knife doesn’t get stuck because you chose to shove it through some thick bone. These guys might rot, but they rot slow. Now take your time, you can kill this one, okay?” 

She motioned to the armless walker she was holding down, and in one swift motion, Carl buried the knife in the base of it’s skull, and it stopped wriggling. He pulled the knife out in a second motion, rubbing the gore off on the walker’s clothes.

“You’re a pro!” She beamed, and Carl grinned back. “You wanna try one now? I think I hear another one coming.”

“I… I’m nervous.” Carl admitted, gripping the knife tight in it’s hand.

“You got this. You watched me, you know how. I’ll be right here, nothing’s gonna happen to you, cowboy.” Iris encouraged. She watched as the smaller walker approached, and Carl ran around to the other side, kicking it’s legs out. Iris smiled as he used both feet to pin it down, planting the knife into it’s skull.

“I did it!” He cried. Iris held up her hand and he gave a gnarly high-five. She half turned, smiling to her other student.

“Your turn, Carol.” She invited. Carol paled a little and cleared her throat.

“I’m okay just watching, for now.” She said quietly, smiling softly at Carl. Iris nodded.

“Alright, well let me know if you change your mind. Let’s go again, cowboy. Try a different direction.”

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[juniperss]

“First Steps First” Jessamine ‘Lark’ Waterson (OC) x Neil ‘Chick’ Harding

A/N: so I’ve really been wanting to write something for Jessamine and Chick for a while but was super anxious and self conscious about it for a couple of reasons. The first being that I don’t write much fanfiction anymore and the second is because I’m not wholly convinced I nail the atmosphere of period shows/movies. But this idea just wouldn’t leave my head so I’m biting the bullet and swallowing my doubts!

This fic takes place in episode 4 during Dye’s celebration party (I can’t get over Harding saying “single fillies”, okay?) and inspired by the song “First Steps First” from the musical Bandstand. The song they dance to is “It’s Been a Long Time” and I don’t care that this version came out in 1945, it’s my favorite LOL

also hey autocorrect pls stop changing Chick to Chuck, thanks

Word count: 1,730 words (😧)

Warnings: none, other than the fact I don’t know how the military works so please ignore inaccuracies🤡😂 this is about the FICTIONAL version of Col. Harding

I saw that you said it was okay to tag you in OC stuff @rosies-riveters, so I hope this is alright and that you enjoy!

“Pardon my brashness, dear

Seeing you standing here

Dancing's more customary

For a soirée."

As much as Jessamine Waterson took pride in her work as a nurse on the Thorpe Abbots base there was no denying the fact that it was grueling, emotionally draining and often went without the accolades that came with other roles in the war. And while most days she was just fine with that, today had been particularly tiresome and Jessamine was glad for the change of pace the evening’s festivities allowed. The anxious energy that had gripped every person on the airbase had been exchanged for easy laughter, jokes, and celebration. After all, it wasn’t every day a pilot and crew successfully flew 25 missions. 

As she sat with Beth and Ginny, an American nurse and mechanic respectively, who had become two of her fastest friends, listening idly to them chat about the dances they’d returned from moments ago, it took much of Jessamine’s will to avoid allowing her gaze to linger for too long on the man who had just entered the room. She had spent months chiding herself for the way her heart started racing at the mere thought of Colonel Harding being so near and despite the effort she put into acting completely normal on the instances their paths crossed, she feared her feelings were all too transparent. 

 It was inconvenient to have a crush during war and even more inconvenient that it was on a man who was not only a good handful of years older than she was, but compounded by the fact that he was an American soldier. An American soldier who was dashingly handsome and confident, who had just looked in her direction and caught her staring. Jessamine busied herself with the drink in front of her trying to ignore the heat burning in her ears.

 “Oh well that was just adorable.” 

Beth’s voice with it’s charming southern accent was usually a source of soothing reassurance and good advice, was now riddled with mischief and good natured humor now that the two women’s attention was focused on their friend. “You know there’s no shame in a little flirting, a little conversation. Why don’t you go ask him to dance?”

Ginny nodded in agreement, leaning across the table, “It’s not like you’ve never spoken to him before,” before turning conspiratorially to Beth, “remember how she gave him pain medication for his headache that one time.” 

Jessamine’s hands came up to cover her face, the full weight of her body resting on her elbows as she suppressed a groan and a laugh. Of course the two of them remembered the  first time she had met the Colonel; a simple exchange of names and him asking for something for a headache. Jessamine, partly sleep deprived and partly fighting off the butterflies in her stomach fumbling with the bottle before spilling a handful of pills across the floor of the nurses station.

It certainly wasn’t necessarily the most romantic or charming first meeting on her part, but Col. Harding had only smiled before kneeling and helping her gather the runaways. There had been a quip about how she could’ve just said no that resulted in flustered laughter from her and another grin from him. And her friends hadn’t let her live it down since she confided about it to them the following day over breakfast. 

“I’m surprised he said anything to me after that.” Jessamine admitted and revealed her face to her friends. Though there had been more interactions with the Colonel after that, they remained confined to mostly professional settings save for a few pleasantries while off duty. “And to answer your question, Beth, I’m certainly not going to bother him and ask for a dance!” 

Ginny rolled her brown eyes and tossed her head back in a sign of exasperation, looking up to the ceiling pantomiming someone experiencing a great tragedy which in turn caused another round of laughter at the table. “Well, if he asked you to dance, would you say yes?” Beth finally asked.  This time all the hints of teasing had left her friend’s tone and there was nothing but curiosity and sincerity. 

Jessamine nodded slowly, allowing the fantasy to tease at the corner of her mind just for a moment but unable to answer because just as she parted her lips to reply another voice cut in. 

“Excuse me, ladies.” Colonel Harding’s voice sent a rush of heat through Jessamine’s body and she felt her posture straighten. She pried her eyes off of Beth to glance up, up, up at the tall soldier now standing beside their table and found that, despite him addressing them all, he was looking determinedly at her alone. “I don’t mean to interrupt, but I was wondering if I could steal Miss Waterson for a dance.”

“You’re not interrupting at all, sir.” Ginny chimed in, eyes flitting from the Colonel to Jessamine, “In fact, we were just talking about how much Jessamine was wanting to dance.”

Oh, that Ginny was going to get stern talking to later, Jessamine promised herself, but at that moment she was already standing. Hardings’ hand reached out and enveloped hers as he guided her to the dance floor. 

"Isn't the band sublime?

And as it happens I'm

Just in the mood to do

A two-step, Do step

Out on the floor with me.”

The two of them found a place surrounded by three or four other couples just as the band changed from the upbeat, two step to a slower tune that made Jessamine’s heart pitter faster. If Harding felt any nervousness at the now much more intimate situation the change of song put the two of them in, he didn’t show it. Instead he wrapped an arm around her waist with the ease and confidence of a man who knew what he was doing. Her breath hitching just slightly before she felt him placing the flat of his hand lightly, respectfully against her back. 

Every nerve was firing at once, each hair on her arms standing on end, she was sure of it as her mind raced. She was trying to remember just how one slow danced fighting through the nervousness, when she felt the firmness of her foot under her own. 

“I’m so sorry, colonel.” The apology came out high pitched and squeaky and with the attempt to pull away from the man in front of her. But Harding kept his gentle grip and shook his head.

 “It’s not the first time someone’s stomped on my foot. At least this time it wasn’t on purpose. And Neil is fine, or Chick if you think Neil is too familiar.” 

There he goes again, Jessamine thought, being so effortlessly charming and saving me from my own awkwardness. Sometime in the desperate squeak of an apology she had been repositioned to properly be dancing. One soft hand held in his much larger one, the other placed on his shoulder, and her face precariously close to his as she found herself peering up at him. The rhythm was easy to find with Neil leading and the familiar trumpet crooning at the stage and Jessamine had to fight to keep her eyes from closing. 

“Might you be charmingly coerced

No need to be so shy

Take reassurance, I

Know how to guide you through

The worst steps, first steps first

 “It’s not too late to admit you picked the wrong dancing partner.” Jessamine finally found her voice and the confidence to add just a bit of a teasing tone to it, a smile itching at the corner of her lips. Her cheek had come to rest just slightly against his shoulder as they swayed to the music and as a result her voice was slightly muffled by the material of his dress shirt.

 “You’re selling yourself short. It’s been at least a minute since we’ve had another incident. You’re a natural.” Each time he spoke she could feel the rumbling of his chest against hers and her head felt dizzy with the warmth and solidity of him. 

“And I’m certainly not going to say that after I finally got up the guts to come ask you for a dance in the first place.” Neil’s confession took Jessamine by surprise and she pulled back to look him in the eyes searching for any signs of jest but only finding an intensity that sent her stomach exploding into a storm of butterflies. 

“You...you had to work up the courage to ask me?” The image of Colonel Neil Harding having to work up the nerve to ask anything of Jessamine was too comical to be taken seriously but there was no denying the truth behind his statement. “You’re a beautiful woman, Jessamine. And smart and successful. Hell, you’d have every reason to reject a dance from an old colonel like me.” 

This was almost too much for Jessamine to take and she struggled to wrap her mind around his confession. All she could do was blink dazedly up at him as her cheeks flushed bright red. A smile broke out across Neil’s face and he laughed, arm tightening around her waist for a moment. “I hope that wasn’t too out of line and that I haven’t just read this entire interaction incorrectly. But your friends made it pretty clear to me earlier that you felt the same about me.” 

Oh…oh…oh it was all coming together now.

Jessamine couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled up from her chest and she leaned forward to rest her forehead against his shoulder. His own rumbling laugh was mixing with hers and soon Jessamine had relaxed with the words of his confession replaying in her mind. The song faded and another slow ballad picked began, nothing but their breathing and the shuffling of shoes on the floor mixing with the music to fill the space between them.  “So,” Neil murmured, dragging Jessamine’s attention to his face once again, “you do feel the same?” 

This time, Jessamine didn’t shy away from the intense and earnest way he was looking at her. Instead she lifted herself up on the tip of her toes just enough to bring her lips to his cheek. 

 She would have words with Ginny and Beth about this. But later…after another dance. 

Yes, after another dance with Neil.

[nomoreusername]

Love Over Logic (Part 2)

Pairing:Sonya x female reader

Summary:When Sonya hears what happened to you in the city, grief hits her harder than she ever imagined.

The deaths didn't feel the way people thought they would. When Thomas watched Ava die he felt a sharp pain in his stomach, as if he had lost a mother who just never learned how to love him right.

Yours, well, that was different for everyone. There wasn't any happiness or closure now that you were gone. There was no joy in your demise. There was just this bitterness at the way it ended. Your friends had been hurt by you, but they loved you. They still do. They know now that you didn't mean for it to happen the way it did. That doesn't take away the scars, but it reminds them that you tried. You tried to save the world, but it didn't want that. There was too much selfishness, and in the end, that took you too. Even though your heart went out to everyone but yourself, the world didn't care about that. It never did, and maybe it never truly will.

Sonya sighed as she looked at the names on the rock. Newt, Chuck, Teresa, Beth, Rachel, the list goes on. People had been lost, and so many of them didn't even fit on here. There was no way to memorialize every last death.

She wasn't sure how people would feel about it, but she didn't care. You had been her everything at one point. Even right now, her heart breaking from everything that happened and her mind tormented by the pain you helped put her through, she found that all she wanted was you.

She didn't even get to say goodbye. She hadn't been in the city when you were killed. That means her last words to you were just angry, mindless insults. She didn't get to say how much you mean to her. She didn't get to pull you away from everyone and kiss you. She didn't get to hold your hand by the fire. She didn't get to lay under the stars with you. She didn't get to wrap her arms around you as you went to sleep. She didn't get to do all those things again before you died.

Now she never will.

Putting the knife down, she ran her fingers over your name, smoothing out the stone. Shutting her eyes, she kept tracing it as she found herself too drained to cry. There were too many things to feel. Too much anger and sorrow and loss and love. Too many things she didn't quite and wasn't sure she wanted or was ready to understand.

Sighing, she pulled her hand away and looked out into the distance. Spotting Aris sitting by the shore, she glanced back down at another familiar name.

Rachel.

He was the closest person she had to understand her. He lost his lover too. That, and he is her best friend.

Walking over to him, she stood there for a moment. Turning around at the sound of the sand under her shoes, he wore a bittersweet smile as he saw her standing there. Patting the spot beside him, he silently invited her to sit with him.

Sonya brushed out her shorts before doing so. With her hands in her lap, she gazed at the beautiful sunset. The sky was a light pink with hints of orange and purple. It was breathtaking, something she never thought she would get to see before.

“They would have liked this place. They would have loved the sunset,”Aris whispered, breaking their silence.

“Yeah. They would have,”Sonya agreed, turning to look at him. Meeting her gaze, he let his expression drop, a frown crossing his lips as he thought about it all.

“I really loved her,”He whispered, holding back tears as he thought about Rachel, just hanging there, cold and alone. He had been right there. He had been so close, and he still couldn't save her.

“I know,”She nodded, doing the same.

“You still love her, don't you?”He asked, forcing his tone steady as his thoughts moved to his old friend and her lover.

“I . . . I do. I know she messed up, but she didn't want to hurt anyone. She cared about us all. She cared about me. Promised to be with me forever,”She admitted, her voice shaking at the end.

“It’s good that you love her still. It hurts, but it's better to miss her than hate her. It has to be, right?”He begged.

“I think so. It just-it aches. I can feel it in my stomach. It's like I'm going to be physically sick. I just want to curl up in a ball and dream about being with her until I die,”She confessed, a tear falling from her face. Wiping it with her sleeve, she just felt more come, letting her know it was hopeless. Allowing them to stain her cheeks, she stared back at the sky. Doing the same, he let himself cry with her. “Do you feel that too? When you think of Rachel?”

“Every night. Every night I go to sleep and pray it's all a dream. That I’ll wake up with her beside me.”

“But it never is,”She mumbled.

“No. When I open my eyes, she isn't there. I can only see her when I can take her for granted. When I don't actually realize it's not real and still think I have forever with her.”

“I just got that last night. I guess I just live this way forever now though. It's never going to end,”She said slowly.

One night of knowing you're dead and you're already haunting her mind. How typical.

“This isn't a happy ending. We got to the Safe Haven, but it's not a good ending for us. It's not a good ending for them. Nobody won, and everyone's hurt. We're either dead or missing people we love until we join them.”

“I carved her name in the rock. I don't know if that was a good idea. Now I’ll have to see it sometimes. I’ll have to see Y/N’s name,”She got out before covering her mouth as sobs left her. Wrapping his arms around her, he held her close as she cried on his shoulder. Letting his own tears drip on her shirt, he clung to one of the only people he had left. Burying her head in his neck, she cried even harder as she realized he was crying.

Breaking down, they just held each other as it sunk in that their lives would never be the same.

They would never be the people they were or the people they thought they would be.

Some part of them would always be broken.

Because when their lovers died, they took it somewhere it could never be truly found.

Beyond the grave.

[somasbrianrot]

Nepotism? Who’s She?

(Pt4/?)

Various Wrestler (WWE, AEW) X Reader (Events will be altered or made up)

Summary: In which reader is the daughter of the great Edge, but everywhere she goes her achievements are undermined because of her father being the rated r superstar.  

Quick little authors note ; I am thinking of a way to incorporate more WWE wrestlers, sorry it’s been more AEW sided lately lol

You had let Jamie and Tay take over your wardrobe choices just for this group outing, they shuffled through your clothes before stumbling across some of your old stuff, they were a gift from Lita when you were a younger girl, she said you would look great in it, but not to tell your dad, you laughed at the memory, wherever you went you brought that outfit, you look up to Lita a lot as a child, and of course you looked up to Beth aswell, they were the two powerful women in your life who inspired you to become a wrestler, after your mother gave birth to you and dumped you on your father.

You step out of the dressing room, the pink dress hugging your curves just right (No matter what body size you are! you slay!) Tay and Jamie squeal at the reveal, and Tay pulls a sweater out of your suitcase and hands it to you, you smiled and slipped it on, your outfit complete.

(And any shoe’s of your choice!)

Jamie and Tay looked at each other and smiled “I think we’re ready to get going” you nod, the two women got ready earlier, makeup, outfits, bags etc, you just nodded as you guys exited the hotel room, everyone else was already at the bar was what you assumed as you guys went down the elevator.

You got to the entrance of the pretty empty club, save for some of the booths being completely filled with stacks of men, seemingly celebrated, the three of you walked by to find your boys and girls, wolf whistles sent your way, you rolled your eyes at the men who were hounding you, noticing Jade waving the three of you over you quickly walked over, seeing they had hired a lounge, which made it much bigger to accompany all the wrestlers, you jumped over and plopped onto the couch piece next to Jade, she giggled “Hey, there’s probably a lot of unfamiliar faces but we thought we’d bring some friends along so you had more people to depend on” you smile at her wider “Thanks” she nods and you look across the room, on one of the couches, you could see the best friends, Orange Cassidy was held upside down by Chuck Taylor and Trent Bettera, Kris seemed to be funneling some kind of beer into Cassidy’s mouth.

You watched from across the room as he took it down effortlessly, Orange Cassidy is just cool like that, he somehow still had his glasses on though he was being held upside down, you got up from next to Jade and walked over, standing next to Kris and watching the whole thing go down, once they were down the bottle they placed Orange Cassidy back upright and Kris looked over to you, smiling widely “Hey new girl! enjoy the show?” 

“I got to say, him taking that down was pretty impressive, he’s still got his glasses on too” she nods along “Yeah that’s kind of Cass’s thing” you nod and laugh as you see it’s Trent’s turn to go upside down, Kris places the funnel in his mouth and hands the next bottle to you “Wanna go?” you nod with a cheeky smile, leaning over to stare down at Trent “Ready to go big boy?” a simple thumbs up was all that you needed and you started to pour the drink down the funnel, halfway through he ended up forgetting how to breathe from his nose and splattered the drink out of the funnel, you screamed as it splashed all over your face, you let go of the bottle and you’re handed a piece of fabric, what you could assume to be a shirt as you wiped your face, you wipe the drink that had fallen down your neck and chest, you looked up to thank whoever handed you the shirt but the sight before you made you stop in your tracks with an embarrassed look on your face, Cass had peeled his shirt off for you to wipe your face, so now he had no shirt but he had his signature denim jacket over himself.

“I- uh- sorry- thank you?” you stumbled over your words, and he offered a nod to you as you handed him your shirt, you groaned and buried your face in your hands as Cass turned back to talk to his friends, Kris chortled behind you, and you glared at her “No no! I'm not making fun of you, that was cute” she confesses, and you blush even more in embarrassment, you elbow her and she laughs louder, you sigh “I’m going to go get a drink from the bar” you tell her and she nods, you jumped over the couch where Jade was still seated and made your way to the bar, a group of men were sitting on the stools there, you had initially ignored them as you ordered your (Insert anything here), you took a seat on the nearest stool, which was right next to the biggest looking of the men, he threw a side glance your way and you looked back.

Your face lightens up seeing him “Damian!” despite the WWE storyline you had been great friends with Damian, you had feelings for him but pushed them down, he was substantially older then you,(Y/N is between their her 20s-30 so you can make that decision lol) he smiles at you “Hey! Bonita! how’ve you been? y’know since the whole Vince thing?” you shrugged “I mean, I’m in the All Elite family now” his eye brows raised at this new inquiry “Really?” “yeah my party is over there, they rented out the private couch” he nodded and the rest of his group by now stared over at you, the rest of the judgement day accompanied by a friendly face, you’d known him as Matt Riddle, he waved at you and you waved back “Hey you guys should come join me!” I propose and they all share a look “I mean if it’s okay with everyone else” “One second” you popped off the stool and walked over to your AEW party.

“You guys mind if I invite some WWE friends over?” seeing mostly everyone say they don’t mind you walked back over to your other friends, nodding at them “You guys are more then welcome” just now did the bartender slip your drink over, you placed a $10 bill on the counter as you and your friends made your way to the party “Hey everyone! this is the Judgement Day!” everyone looked your way and seemed to acknowledge them, you lead them over to a couch and they sat down, you between Damian and Rhea, you guys chatted before a familiar face with tufts of bleached blonde hair made his way over, you smiled and popped up, pulling Darby into a hug, his arm instinctly reached over to hold your waist, Damian looked between the two of you and seemed irritated but didn’t voice anything “This is Darby!” you said sweetly, Darby nodded in acknowledgement “Sup?”

Damian stood up and shook the man’s hand, holding on a little longer then what seemed necessary, Darby pulled his hand back and averted his attention to he girl “I’m going to go outside for some fresh air, care to join me?” she smiled and nodded, but Damian clearing his throat interrupted the two “Mind if I join?” his smile seemed sincere enough so before Darby could shut down the idea you nodded and off you three went, you smiled as you leaned into Darby’s side, missing the looks of jealousy and smugness that was shot between the two men, they stepped out of the bar and into the pristine crisp night air, you breathed it in and latched off of Darby’s arm, walking ahead of the two men, taking in the view of the moon and the stars in the night sky.

Darby and Damian seemed to be locked into a staring contest when you twisted back around to see if they were still with you “Come on you two” she said but they seemed to not hear her as they continue staring, you decided to get up to some mischief and whistled loudly, getting their attention and then turning around, running off as fast as you could as all you could do was giggle (Damn, I’m sorry for the girlies who chose heels lol) you ran around the corner of your street and down an alley, hiding yourself between a bin, you watched as the two came around the corner and tried to stifle your giggles, Darby snapped his head down the alley and begin walking down, you took this as a queue to get up and start running again, giggling all the way you turned down the other end of the alley, you ran until you hit something solid, or more so, someone.

“Gotcha bonita” he whispered in your ear giving you goosebumps as you giggled in his arms “Oh no!” you laughed even harder when Darby turned down the alley with an unimpressed look, you smiled as you dropped down from Damian’s arms “That was a workout, but it worked, you guys stopped acting weird” you hum as you take back off in the direction of the club.

you weren’t aware the boys were far behind you at this point, but you kept skipping, Damian and Darby seemed to not like each other much “I think its cute that a little man like you thinks you deserve someone like her” Damian inquires the much shorter man, Darby snarls at him “and you think you do? yeah, you call me when you wake up with her under your arm, because I know I already did” Darby walks ahead of Damian as he stands there, trying to process what Darby had just said.

Your father always said he didn’t want you to be like him, he’d run around with all different girls and eventually you came from that, he wouldn’t tell you, that you were a mistake but you knew deep down you were, that didn’t stop you from loving your dad as much as you could, why am I bringing this up? Well, you found yourself in bed this morning, it was surprisingly warm this morning, you looked over to see the tufts of bleached blonde hair you adored, you giggled and pecked his forehead - at least it wasn’t a different guy - you thought to yourself, Darby stirred in his sleep, you carefully slipped out of the bed, picking up your under garments and slipping them back on, slipping on Darby’s shirt lying on the ground, you hummed and walked into the small kitchenette of the hotel room, seeing a ripped condom packet, you guys must have been going everywhere last night, you groaned in disgust and flicked the packet into the small bin, you sighed and a knock at your hotel door pulled you out of your thoughts as you stepped over and opened it....

ooh eheheeh cliffhanger, im evil aren’t I?

[chernobog13]

The Ultra Act version of Ultraman Powered from Bandai. This figure was initially scheduled to be on shelves in 2012, but ultimately was never released.

Bandai retired the 6-inch (1/12th-scale) Ultra Act line in 2017, replacing it with the already existing (but with a slightly different scale) S.H. Figuarts line. And while we have seen many of the Ultra Act figures remade in S.H. Figuarts, there is no sign of this guy.

C'mon, Bandai! I don't need every version of Ultraman Orb (seems like there's fifty)! But I would like S.H. Figuarts figures of some of the neglected Ultras: Powered, Great, Neos, and USA (Scott, Chuck and Beth) to name a few. Heck, I'd even like one of that poser Ultraman X!

[twola]

Seven Deadly Sins - III

PAIRING: low to mid honor Arthur Morgan x Fem!reader

Because if one thing is true, it is that Arthur Morgan is a sinner. Pure, organic, non-GMO smut. A continuing series.

Warnings: Smut, Violence, Low to Medium Honor Arthur (and all that entails)

Greed: a selfish and excessive desire for more of something than is needed.

➵ AO3 Link

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The champagne burned on the way down. He would never get used to that. He would also never get used to this stupid outfit, trussed up like some prized hen, hair slicked back with pomade and clean-shaven. The lack of weight on his hips where his gun belt should have rested was perturbing.

Fireworks, of all things, burst above him as high-society men and women marveled at the display.

But Arthur is concentrating more on the white-clad servant talking to the Mayor. Dutch also listens over his shoulder.

“Did he just say something about Cornwall?”

Arthur nods at Dutch, whose magnanimous face hardens briefly.

“Find out what. And take her with you,” Dutch tilts his head over to where you stand, watching the fireworks with a few other women, “She’s good at distractions, should you need one.”

Arthur waves off, placing his now empty flute on a tray of a passing butler, ducking away from Dutch, keeping an eye on the white-jacketed servant who was slowly making his way back to the house.

He makes his way toward the group of ladies, where you look positively bored along the outside of the circle, having just downed the champagne in your flute, twirling the glass between your fingers.

Arthur makes eye contact with you as he walks by, and you immediately straighten your posture, placing down the flute on a table behind you and excusing yourself from the other women. You move between onlookers to catch up with Arthur’s quick gait, and as you catch up to him, he grabs your hand, leading you toward the side of the grand mansion.

“What we doin’?” You whisper, and suddenly Arthur stops, grabbing your waist and pulling you against him as he spies over his shoulder up the trellised walkway.

He motions toward the servant from before, who is stepping up the stairs towards a side door of the stately mansion.

“That feller there - he’s the mayor’s man - he was talkin’ bout some dealings with Cornwall and documents. Dutch wants us to look into it.”

The man steps inside the house, and Arthur takes your hand to hurry after him.

“Hol- hold on, not so fast.” You retort with a harsh breath, “I ain’t used to wearing heels like these.”

Indeed, much like how he is dressed to impress feckless men in a tuxedo, clean-shaven and hair slicked back, you were obviously brought along as a piece of eye candy. Your long hair was pulled into an elaborate updo by Mary Beth earlier in the night. Hosea had insisted on bringing you into Saint Denis for a dress, a crimson gown that left your shoulders bare and your décolletage adorned with a fancy necklace stolen from some old woman’s coach outside of town. You frown, gathering the voluminous skirts that flavored from your waist, the silky crimson sheath of your gown laying over white petticoats. 

You’ve been trying to keep your white opera-length gloves clean all night, which was more than obnoxious enough for you.

You wince, rolling your ankle slightly, and Arthur offers you his arm, which you take as you curse these fancy heels that Mary Beth insisted you wear tonight to the bottom of Flat Iron Lake. That’s where you’re sure they will end up, chucked from the coach on the way back to Shady Belle.

Arthur leads you into the side door of the house, hiding behind a doorframe, you listen to the white-frocked servant yell at a scullery maid before he moves toward the stairs up to the second floor. 

Arthur nods down at you, and taking your hand, you quietly follow up to the staircase and bound up the first few stairs. Turning the corner, Arthur quickly pulls you against him, and you gasp as he maneuvers you into the corner of the stairwell, glaring down at you in an obvious attempt to silence you.

He leans down toward your ear, “Stay here.” 

You nod, letting go of his coat as he turns to quietly ascend the stairs to the top of the landing, his hand staying raised toward you, beckoning you to stay. You hear movement on the floor above you, fast steps moving further away. Arthur waves down for you to join him, and you tiptoe up the stairs and duck into the first room where Arthur stepped into, slowly and quietly closing and latching the door behind you.

It is a large and ornate study, filled with art and books, a writing desk and couch decorated finely and lit with electric sconces. You groan lightly, looking around, thinking to yourself that the amount of finery in this room alone was more than you’ve seen in your life. Probably more than you could steal in your life.

You move closer to the bookshelves, eye on a glint of gold on the shelf. Begging to be touched.

“You heard what Dutch said. Keep your hands to yourself, little thief.” Arthur drawls as he leafs through papers on the ornate writing desk. He has an amused tone as he glances up at you before resuming his search through the documents on the table.

You snort under your breath, rolling your eyes at him. He saw you reach for the gilded letter opener on the shelf, of all the ridiculous things to cover in gold.

“Here we go.” Arthur pulls a document from the desk drawer that he jimmied open. He tucks it into his vest and closes the drawer.

“C’mon, let’s get back downstairs.”

You don’t move. Arthur scowls impatiently as a wicked smile starts to cross your features, your dark lips stained with rouge and eyes darkened with powder. Looking all the bit of a courtesan in some Parisian salon. The low dip of your neckline highlights your cleavage, normally hidden underneath workshirts and jackets.

“Mmm, let Dutch simmer some more. Down there’s his type of game.” You whisper, stepping closer to Arthur, who continues to scowl.

“We don’t have ti-”

Arthur’s voice halts immediately as his eyes widen, and your impish smile grows.

“Yes, we do.”

He lets out a deep breath, stuttering, as his eyes shoot downward. Your white-gloved hand palms his rapidly hardening cock in his trousers.

It takes him a few moments to pull himself together, far too long, in his opinion, but your fingers wrapping around his cock, even through layers of fabric, completely wipes clean the slate of thoughts in his mind.

Arthur blinks, groaning softly as he looks up to the ceiling for a second before looking back down. You're huddled against him, the fabric of your dress rustling against his suit, staring up at him with a satisfied smile, one hand pressed against the hard muscle of his chest, the other fervently stroking his cock.

You lean your head against his shoulder as he shudders, closing his eyes tightly.

“Oh, you’re so good , Arthur.” You whine softly, and he cannot stop a groan from escaping his throat, as one of his hands curls around your hip to take purchase on your rear, squeezing tightly. The other leans back against the built-in bookshelf, holding on for dear life, as if his legs were going to give out beneath him.

“ Jesus -” Arthur spits out, and cannot help put to thrust his hips forward, pressing hard and catching your hand between your bodies, “ Fuck , woman.”

You giggle, pushing back at him and your other hand traces down his chest, down his stomach, to his hips, and pulls at the buttons of his trousers. He squeezes your rear again, as your hand leaves his cock and joins your other one in opening his trousers. Damn this fancy suit and high-society trappings.

Arthur pants, breath coming out in loud huffs as you finally open his black pants, hiking up his starched white shirt to his stomach with one hand as the other encircles his cock.

Christ , he thinks he's seeing stars as you begin to pump your hand, stroking him with increasing pressure with your little fingers wrapped around his length. His hand moves from the bookshelf behind him to cup one of your breasts, squeezing lightly and eliciting a moan from your colored lips. 

Despite your talented hand around his cock, Arthur finally seems to get his bearings, rubbing against the fabric of your dress, pulled tight and fitted around your bosom, and circling his other hand on your rear as he regains his footing, leaning over and taking your lips with his.

“Ah-ah.” You tut, allowing him to kiss you for only a moment before you swat his hand from your bosom, “Stop being greedy. This is my show.”

“ Shit .”

He cannot help but to swear as you start to sink downward, to your knees in front of him. The fabric of your maroon dress rustles as you slowly slide to the floor, keeping your eyes on his the entire time.

You take the length of his steel-hard cock in one of your gloves hands, the other pressed against his hip, and the small amount of skin visible from where his open pants hang.

Arthur groans aloud, his mouth hanging open as you stare up at him, your lips pursing for a moment before you take the blunt head of his cock into your mouth. You suck, softly at first, and one of Arthur’s hands flies to your head, and you narrow your eyes in warning, not to destroy the elaborate coiffure your long hair was styled into. The outlaw immediately retracts his hand, chided.

Your other hand floats to his other hip as you push your head forward, taking him further into your mouth. Arthur lets out a deep breath through his nose, eyes trained on your lips as inch by inch of him disappears into the warm, wet cavern of your mouth.

Your eyes flutter closed, breathing in through your nose, and push your head closer to his hips. He sucks in an audible breath, exhaling with a needy whine that you had no idea the man was capable of making. Arthur’s hand moves to gently cup your jaw, the slightest pull forward. You push past the discomfort, taking his entire length, your nose pressing against his pubic bone, dusting the chestnut curls at the base of his cock.

“ God almighty”, he grits out, watching you start to bob back and forth, his cock glistening with your saliva.

He cannot help but to thrust his hips forward slightly, groaning aloud as the head of his cock comes into contact with the back of your throat. 

You continue for several moments, wrenching more sweet stuttering sounds from him before squeezing his hips. You pull back and Arthur’s eyes nearly cross when he can make out the faintest ring of lip rouge around the base of his cock.

You retreat, and for a fleeting moment, Arthur watches a thin string of saliva stretch between your wet lips and the glistening head of his cock, groaning as it breaks. You’re climbing back up him, hands at his hips, his waist, his chest, anchoring yourself to him as you stand from your knees.

“C’mere-” you grab one of his hands and pull him away from the bookshelf, and he follows, one hand holding his opened pants up, as you lead him to the fancy couch in the middle of the room. You push him down, and both he and you know that you can only move him with his permission - your small frame against his own.

Arthur grunts as he sits on the couch, spreading his legs as you stand in front of him. His hand automatically moves to his erection, stroking it handily as you lean over, pressing your lips to his. 

A soft laugh escapes you as you lean over him to nip at his bottom lip, and he notices your hand starting to hike up the voluminous skirts covering your legs. Higher, higher, above where your black stockings end below your knees, to the swathe of your pale thighs, and the lacy trim of your bloomers.

With a grin, you straighten up, hooking your thumbs into the waistband of your bloomers and pulling them, sliding them down your thighs to your knees, where they fall in a puddle on the floor at your feet. Arthur’s left-hand reaches toward your newly bared skin, toward the soft thatch of hair at the jointure of your thighs.

You swat his hand away, and he scowls. 

“I told you, Mister Morgan. Stop bein’ so greedy.”

“Woman, I swear,” Arthur grits his teeth as he strokes his cock there on the couch, “if you don’t get o’er here-”

You cut him off by climbing onto his lap, holding your skirts up with one hand while the other finds purchase on the wooden trim of the back of the couch, behind Arthur’s shoulder. Bracketing his legs between your thighs, you lower yourself down, skin pressing to his, as your skirts fall to cover both of your lower bodies. You roll your hips, letting his cock slip between your folds, finding wet warmth there as you slide it between your legs.

Arthur growls, jutting his hips upward, seeking more pressure, heat, and wetness on his cock. His jaw hangs open as he pants, his hands firmly on the globes of your rear as you grind down on him. A needy, breathy moan escapes him, and you smile and coo in response.

“You want somethin’ there, Arthur?”

He has no idea where your sheer audacity came from. Maybe you’ve always been a spitfire and the times you’ve coupled he just overpowered you. Maybe you’re getting comfortable with this arrangement. Either way, he’s into it.

“I told you before, we don’t have time for you to be drawin’ this out…”

“Alright, alright…” you laugh, and with a mischievous glint in your eye, you shift your hips upward, reach under your skirts with your gloved hand, and line his length up before slowly sinking down onto it.

That needy, breathless sound he made before bubbles to the surface again and spills from somewhere deep in his chest as you take him in, inch by inch within your tight warmth, and he’s forced to wonder how he could ever be parted from this ecstasy for long. How he wasn’t inside you constantly. How this is only the third time in months that he’s been enveloped in your hips.

What the hell has he been thinking? Wasting time as he has been…

Arthur is brought back to the world within this gilded room as you bottom out, a high, gasping sigh reaches his ears and he cannot help but to grasp tighter at your rear and push his hips upward, trying to push himself deeper into your cunt, if at all possible. After a moment, you roll your hips, gripping the trim of the couch with both hands, and slide your cunt so he is almost out of your body, only to resheath himself as you push back down.

“ Fuck , Arthur.”

“Keep goin’, keep goin’ girl.” He pants as you repeat the motion. And repeat it again. And again. 

You shove your mouth against his, and he opens his with a throaty moan, his tongue pushing inside your mouth as you continue gyrating in his lap. 

He coaxes a wail from you as he meets your thrusts, hands moving up to your hips and helping slam you back down onto him.

Thank god you had the wherewithal to close the door, as the heavy panting and groaning from the two of you fills the air, along with the rustling of your dress over his suit.

You’re panting, whining , throwing your head back as you stutter over him. Arthur’s hands are true on your hips, keeping them in rhythm as he meets them with short upward thrusts.

“Tha’s it, c’mon-” he pants as you keen, your eyes screwed shut as you feverishly grind down on him.

He would be damned if he found his end before you did. Even with you sucking him off like a whore on your knees, it was everything to keep him from spilling down your throat before. But as you get closer, closer to that point of no return, he realizes he needs to send you over that edge. For his own pleasure.

Your hips roll and your head is thrown back and you sigh in ecstasy as you tighten around him, he leans forward, hands on your lower back, pushing you down on him as you ride out your orgasm.

Arthur’s hands move your hips slowly over his, a smug grin spreading across his face. Finally, for the first time since you ran your little fingers down his cock, does he feel like he’s gained back some semblance of control.

He leans forward and nips at the shell of your ear before his hot breath upon it makes you shiver, “C’mon, we ain’t done yet.”

You whine, oversensitive, burying your head into the crook of his neck. He juts his hips upward in a half-hearted thrust, and the noise escaping your mouth verges on desperate.

“Up, wanna fuck you on the rich man’s desk,” Arthur grunts haughtily, and you pull back with a laugh, a sly smile on your face as you regain your bearings. You pull off of him, both of you gasping softly at the loss of him in your core. Standing up from his lap, his hands remain on your hips as your legs shake from your release. A mirthful chuckle bubbles from his chest as he stands up as well, one hand back to his pants to keep them up. Arthur moves his hand from your hip and playfully swats at your rear, urging you back to the writing desk that he had been rifling through at the beginning of this escapade.

Your skirts rustle, and you bend over quickly to grab your bloomers from the floor and tuck them into your bosom, between your breasts. Your heels click against the lacquered floor as you walk toward the desk, and you begin to turn around to face your outlaw until his hands find you again. He pushes you until your hips bump against the table, and your hands fly to the desk’s surface to stop yourself from falling forward. 

“Arthur-!” You gasp in surprise, but further complaint is cut off as the man presses himself against you, forcing you to bend over, his arms encircling your shoulders and his breath against your neck as both of you bend over the table. He rolls his hips shortly against you, and his hardness hasn’t abided at all.

You’re guided down to your elbows, and one of Arthur’s large hands starts gathering the bottom of your skirts, crumpling them in lustful fists, the maroon gown and hidden white petticoat drawing upward.

The back of your legs are slowly bared to him, black stockings ending above your knee, and the paleness of your thighs as he flips the fabric up. He grunts as he draws your skirt clean over your hips, allowing it to collect at your waist, fanning out over the desk you’re sprawled out on.

His hands are greedy, moving to squeeze at your pert rear, and you shiver as one of his rough hands works downward, a finger trailing down your goosebumped skin to the folds of your cunt, obscenely wet from when you rode him on the couch.

“A-Arthur, don’t-”

“Don’t what ?” He replies harshly in your ear, laying on top of you again and taking that finger to press shallowly inside your swollen opening. 

“T-tease me.” You grit out, unable to do much more than push your hips backward slightly onto his hand, but cruelly, he pulls his hand back from your core, and you whine in frustration as he places it back on your hip.

“Whatchu want, darlin’? Y’want my cock again?” Arthur grunts, and you feel the blunt, hot head of his cock press against your skin. You buck against him weakly.

“ Please. ”

He acquiesces to your plea.

Arthur slides his hard cock in between your folds and snaps his hips forward to bury himself within your cunt. He cannot help the groan that spills from him and is egged on by the high gasp you give as you place your cheek down on the desk as he begins to rock his hips back and forth.

His hands, rough and calloused and warm, encircle your hips as he drives into you, the wet noises of your bodies coming together would be embarrassing if either of you had any semblance of dignity.

Of course, you didn’t. Arthur has you bent over a writing desk in the mayor’s office, fucking you as if his life depended on it, your skirts hiked over your rear, and his pants falling to his knees.

He yanks on the stupid white bow tie constricting his neck, letting it fall open as he grunts. He leans over you again, moving one of the hands on your hips down, down, pushing skirts aside and reaching for the nub just above where he pierces you. He quickly finds it, and you keen .

“There we go.”

“St-stop… A-Arthur, it’s too much.” You cry, your legs shaking against his as he slams his hips hard against yours. His hand underneath your skirts circles your clit and you feel like you could die from the pleasure.

“Nuh-uh. Need another one from ya.” He grunts in your ear as you whine. His other hand moves from your hip to your lower back as he continues to grind his hips into your rear, the desk shaking with the movement.

Arthur covers your mouth as you scream, your cunt clenching so hard around his cock that he slams himself forward once and wrenches himself from you, throwing his head back in ecstasy. He grasps his cockhead in his hand, coming in sticky globs over his fingers, trying to save both your dress and his suit from the mess.

As the two of you pant, he gently places his large hand on your hips as he stands up, rubbing softly. He gently extricates himself from you, pulling your skirts to cover you as you lay panting on the table, utterly wrecked. He pulls a handkerchief from his suit pocket, wiping his spend from his hand. He stuffs his softening cock back into his pants as he pulls them up and retucks his dress shirt in, trying to look more dinner party and less debauchery.

“Enough for you, Arthur?” You chuckle between heavy breaths. You push yourself to your elbows before looking back at him with the mischievous glint in your eyes from before. 

He works at retying the bow tie at his neck.

You swipe the ornate letter opener from before and tuck it into your voluminous skirts. He doesn’t see you grab it.

“I dunno. You did say I’m a greedy man.”

[stedefxckingbonnet]

requests info/intro!

hi, everyone!

i thought i'd take a quick second to introduce myself and to also formally open up requests. i'm already working on a few things, but requests really do always help and feel free to submit them at any point--but, we'll get to all of that in a moment!

my name is lavinia, and i am a uni student studying both theatre (dramaturgy specifically) and creative writing! i love to sing, act, write (obviously haha), read (i am a huge fan of classic literature, as well as donna tartt, mona awad, sally rooney, elif bautman, and ottessa moshfegh's works), go to concerts, go to the movies, style/design clothing, paint, collect records/cds, and so much more! this barely scratches the surface really but, if any of you share these interests, always feel free to reach out!

anyhow, as i said, i will officially be opening requests, and at the moment here is the media and the characters i will write for:

Our Flag Means Death

Izzy Hands (my BELOVED)

Ed Teach

Stede Bonnet

Lucius Spriggs

Jim Jimenez

Oluwande

Mary Bonnet

(more available upon request! these were just sort of my first instincts.)

Gilmore Girls

honestly, i'm pretty open to anything unless it's dean. just request and i'll see what i can do!

Gossip Girl

Blair Waldorf

Serena Van der Woodsen

Dan Humphrey

Nate Archibald

Chuck Bass (like sometimes)

Rufus Humphrey

more available upon request.

The Fosters/The Good Trouble

Callie Adams Foster

Mariana Adams Foster

Brandon Foster

Jamie Hunter

Gael Martinez

Dennis Cooper

Malika Williams

more available upon request.

Select Wes Anderson and Tim Burton characters. just ask!

Enola Holmes

Enola Holmes

Tewkesbury

Sherlock Holmes

Little Women (2019)

Jo March

Amy March

Beth March

Meg March

Laurie

Friedrich Bhaer

Star Wars

Obi-Wan Kenobi

Anakin Skywalker

Padmé Amidala

Luke Skywalker

Han Solo

Leia Organa

Kylo Ren

Finn

Poe Dameron

Ahsoka Tano

more available upon request!

Pride & Prejudice (2005)

Basically me just saying I'll write Mr. Darcy. but more characters available upon request, of course.

Community

Abed Nadir

Troy Barnes

Annie Edison

Jeff and Britta I'm a little iffy on but with the right request, maybe. don't hesitate to ask!

The OC

Seth Cohen

Ryan Atwood

Summer Roberts

Marissa Cooper

The Umbrella Academy

Klaus

Viktor

Ben

Five

Diego

Allison

Luther is like, not preferred for me but if you feel strongly about him and have a good request, i’ll consider it but don’t get your hopes up too high!

Once Upon a Time

Emma Swan

Regina Mills

Killian Jones

Neal Cassidy

August Booth

Jefferson (The Mad Hatter)

Mulan

Ruby Lucas (Red Riding Hood)

Belle French

Mary Margaret Blanchard (Snow White)

David Nolan (Prince Charming)

Peter Pan

Robin Hood

Any others, feel free to ask! I know I left Mr. Gold (Rumple) off, but that's only because it depends with each request. Also, please specify if you want it to take place in Storybrooke pre or post curse, or in The Enchanted Forest.

Merlin

Merlin

Arthur

Gwen

Morgana

Nimueh

Lancelot

any others, feel free to ask. i am just starting S2, keep that in mind.

The Holdovers

Angus Tully

Dead Poets Society

Todd Anderson

Neil Perry

Knox Overstreet

Charlie Dalton

Steven Meeks

Love Lies Bleeding

Lou Langston

Jackie Cleaver

i'll just start there for now, as honestly it's been a bit since i've written an x reader and i don't want to overwhelm myself much! but please, feel free to request at any time! I will update this frequently, as I am always either getting into new things or remembering things I already love. I am mostly dedicated to OFMD right now, but you may also leave requests for other fandoms and I will keep them on file, or who knows, perhaps even get to them sooner than you may imagine! Have a wonderful day (or night!), and don't forget to request!

yours truly,

lavinia

me filing through all of your requests (hopefully!)