#darts drinks and dirty tricks

[beenbaanbuun]

first kiss with ateez

park seonghwa

i’m of the belief that seonghwa is a gentleman through and through

unfortunately that means no kiss until at least the third date, and even then your lips would have to look particularly plush and tempting for him to even dare

a bit of pink lip gloss does the trick, drawing his gaze to your lips more than once during the restaurant date that you find yourself on

he studies them when you talk about what’s going on in your life, watching your pretty teeth peeking out from beneath them

in fact, the more you talk, the harder it gets to pull his gaze away to look you in the eyes

how can he when your lips look so, what’s the word, kissable…

and before he can even stop himself, he’s leaning across the table and is oh-so-gently holding your face in place with a hand on your cheek

your words stop in your throat as he breathes against your lips and perhaps you can’t help but find his lips a little tempting too

you close the gap, pushing your lips against his own soft pair and holding yourself in place for just a moment or two

neither of you forget that you’re in the centre of a restaurant so you pull away, sharing a silent promise that it would be the first of many

kim hongjoong

hongjoong didn’t quite know why he felt so compelled to show you his studio so early in the relationship

it was his safe space away from the rest of the world, and yet there you were, stood right in the centre of it looking like you belonged there

and he believed that you did because why else would you look so pretty under the dim lights that shone from the ceiling?

why else would he be so tempted to pull you over to his desk chair and have a long, passionate make out session with you?

he tries to shake the dirty thoughts away, but a few linger on for longer than he’d like

and as you look around the space, he can’t quite help but imagine what it would feel like to hold his lips to yours

feeling braver than usual, he struts up to you and leans into your personal space, mouth barely an inch from your own

“can i?” he whispers, eyes flickering down to watch your lips part and your tongue dart out to wet them, “want to feel your pretty mouth on mine…”

you nod and before you know it, he has a hand on your shoulder, pulling you close and his lips on yours, drinking you in

he doesn’t pull away until you’re both dizzy from a lack of oxygen, but before you can even fully catch your breath, he’s delving in for more

jeong yunho

another gentleman except he is more than happy to kiss you on the first date as long as you’re as willing as he is

because he never really believed in love as first sight, but when he sees you for the first time, kissing you is all he can thing about

spends half of his time staring at your lips, and half of his time staring at your eyes wondering how pretty it would be to watch them flicker closed as he kisses you

tries his hardest to listen to you as you talk but how is he supposed to concentrate when all he wants to do is lean in and press his own lips against yours

ends up asking you to repeat yourself pretty much every sentence but you don’t really mind because you like the way he pouts when he asks…

both of you so desperately want to kiss the other and yet neither of you say anything, until…

“is that lipstick on your teeth?” yunho asks. you try to rub it off but you’re rubbing at the wrong tooth and yunho is just giggling to himself

you ask him to get it for you, and he freezes up because he’s unsure as to whether you’re genuinely asking him or whether it’s some sort of weird way of you asking for a kiss

he plays dumb and hopes it’s the latter, leaning in a little and extending the invitation for you to close the gap, which of course, you do

you giggle against his lips as he pushes the tip of his tongue into your mouth to wipe away the lipstick

kang yeosang

you’ve been dating for a while and you both desperately want to kiss the other but you’re shy and yeosang is clueless

the two of you are trapped in a weird sort of tango where one of you will get just about brave enough to lean in for a kiss before uncertainty kicks in and you take it back

your friends can’t be around you two anymore because it’s genuinely annoying to watch you two perform this weird ritual

they’re all silently begging for the two of you to just quit the bullshit and make out (preferably not in front of them)

but even with the hints the guys drop to yeosang, he still doesn’t seem to understand that of course you want to kiss him as badly as he wants to kiss you

until one night, you’re at his dorm for a movie night that yunho invited you over for

eventually, though, he gets fed up of watching you two love sick idiots watch one another instead of the movie and he stands up with his popcorn bowl and his blanket

“i’m going to bed,” he grumbles, shooting the two of you a frustrated look, “you two need to get a grip and make out already…”

it’s the most direct hint any of the members have given to yeosang, and finally it sinks in that holy shit! maybe you want to kiss him too???

your lips are already on his the second yunho is out of the room and he can’t help but squeak in surprise before fully leaning into the kiss

it’s unsure to start with, but the two of you soon find your feet and as per yunho’s instructions, you do in fact ‘get a grip and make out’

choi san

another gentleman but only in the sense that he likes to get verbal consent before kissing you

and he’s been waiting so patiently to ask you all night but he can’t quite bring himself to interrupt you as you very cutely ramble on about some random topic

but as much as he could sit and listen to you talk about anything with your angelic voice, he just wants to lean over to where you’re sat on his bed and kiss you

you notice him zoning out after a while and your sentences trail off

“sorry, was i rambling?” you ask, growing shy

“huh?” he shakes himself out of his trance and pouts at you, “aw, you could never ramble, babe…”

while you’re grateful that he’s so quick to squash any insecurities you might have about talking too much, you can’t help but wonder what had him so deep in thought

but before you can ask, san gets there first

“can i kiss you?” you nod, but san doesn’t do anything until you actually say it

when you finally get the word out, he smiles and lunges forwards to let his lips crash against yours

it’s not a gentle kiss, but it’s not an aggressive one either

it’s more like a long awaited one, switching from slow and sensual to desperate and depraved, before going back to the former in mere seconds!

song mingi

this man can and will kiss you whenever he feels like it

don’t get me wrong, he gets so incredibly shy around you, but he is also so incredibly impulsive that the moment he gets the idea to kiss you in his head, he can’t shake it out until he’s done it

it’s only your second date, but the two of you click so well that mingi thinks he might already be in love with you

and then he says something jokingly mean, purposefully to make you pout, and he just freezes

have your lips always looked that kissable? because right now, that’s the only thing he can think about

they look so soft and pliant and pink and before he knows it, mingi is leaning down to your height, his own lips just a breath away from yours

“do you want to kiss me?” he asks with a dopey smile, “i want to kiss you…”

you nod with a dazed expression and he closes the gap, wasting no time in deepening the kiss

he puts his huge hands on your waist and holds you flush against him as he explores your mouth

after what feels like a blissful eternity, he pulls away, panting deeply as he licks at his own lips that are covered in your spit

jung wooyoung

this little shit wants to kiss you soooo bad and unfortunately for you, he can tell that you want to kiss him too

with anyone else, that wouldn’t be a problem, but wooyoung is evil and is absolutely determined to make sure the only thing you can think of all day is his lips

he spends all day biting at his lips and flicking his pretty pink tongue over them the make them glisten in the sun light

acts extra pouty just in case he didn’t already have your full attention on his lips

he can tell by the way you zone out mid sentence to stare at his mouth that he does in fact have your full attention but that doesn’t stop him

oh no, it only drives him to be oven more of a little demon

he decides he wants to get ice cream with you despite it being the middle of winter, and for some reason you agree

he eats it in such a way that gets it smothered on his lips, but with the smirk on his face you can tell it’s intentional

you try and dab it away with a napkin but he just pouts and leans in close

with a sigh and a roll of your eyes, you take the hint and press your barely concealed smile to his own lips

he transfers the ice cream to your own lips before letting his tongue dart out to lick it up

you pull away with a grossed out whine, but he pulls you back in immediately for more

choi jongho

for jongho, the urge to kiss you built up over time

like sure, on the first date he notices how pretty your lips look but all of you is pretty and that doesn’t necessarily mean he wants to kiss you

but then on the second date, he can’t help but notice that you like to chew on your lips and somewhere in the back of his mind is a thought that has him shocked at himself

like, he’s known you for a little over a week, why is he daydreaming about tugging your bottom lip between his teeth before diving in for a kiss

and then suddenly, it’s the fifth date and you’re sat on his sofa curled into his side and he just can’t stop staring as you nibble on your bottom lip

there’s a deep internal conflict about what he should do because he just can’t sit and watch you unintentionally tease him anymore!

decides to be a little bold and takes a deep breath before using his thumb to tug your bottom lip free of your teeth

you look at him in surprise, but you have barely enough time to be shocked before his lips are descending on your own and you’re leaning into the best kiss of your life

it’s slow and passionate and jongho is holding onto you like your made of glass with his hands splayed across your lower back

you pull away before delving back for more immediately, gasping when you’d feel jongho’s teeth scrape against your bottom lip…

[jolalibrary]

5. pepper red

frankie morales x f!reader | chapter five of do me yourself

summary: a meet-cute in a hardware store? impossible, out of the question. except, that's exactly what happens. a need for screws leads you to a broad-shouldered, brown-eyed man who you're sure is about to change your day, never mind your life.

wordcount: 2.5k chapter warnings: [see masterlist for series warnings] SMUT. p in v. dirty talk/mutual appreciation. minor competency. frankie is pretty, thick and sexy. frankie calls you 'rainy' (paint-related from chp.1) no other descriptions or name used. you wear a date outfit but not specified. no use of y/n. an: if this was a sitcom episode, it wouldn't be allowed to be aired and also, i passed my exam, wahoo.

prev chapter | series masterlist

For some reason, it doesn’t surprise you that his bedroom is forest green. Or, that it’s accented by strong whites and similar dark woods as the living room. All earthy tones, him.

In the same way, it doesn’t surprise you that his skin is soft, all smooth as your fingers brush over his skin when you lift his t-shirt from his frame.

Because he looks as good as he did in those videos you’d watched over and over. Getting the chance to see if the silver scars were tricks of the light or stories he hadn’t shared. Your fingers discovered it was the latter.

“God, you look good, Frankie.”

He snorts, before sliding a thumb under your jaw, forcing you to confront big, doe brown eyes. Ones that you’d fall into if you could, especially as they pause, stare from one eye to the next, likely to see if there’s a lie there—a slither of untruth to your confession.

There isn’t.

A thing you ensure sits at the forefront, a silent plea for him to believe you. You suppose he must do when his mouth slides back over yours. Tongue pressing at your lower lip, seeking entry that you happily allow.

You lose yourself in it, him. How good it feels to have his lips on yours again. To have the added feel of purposeful and intentional fingers taking their sweet time to slide your outfit from you.

Because his hands trail over as much as they can. Doing so as though he’s busy carving a memory of you in his mind, making you real. A thing you won’t admit you’re doing too, too busy committing the way he feels, as you run your hands across his shoulders. Feel the expanse of them, the width, wondering—as his tongue swirls a shape on your neck—if yoga will really help you fit his broadness between your thighs.

Frankie must notice you’re drifting, thinking, because his mouth finds yours. A thing which cements you to the moment. Kissing you slowly, deliberately—a hint of mint amongst the drink he’d provided and you smirk, smiling against him.

Because he’s eaten a TicTac.

It mixes, fighting to refresh as though you hadn’t eaten and consumed the same fast food. But the act, the way his lips slide against yours, makes that joke melt as quickly as it appeared, because he’s completing his mission: the one to leave you breathless.

Tangling your fingers in his hair, you choose to pull him closer, deepening the kiss. Tongue sliding back behind his teeth as a soft moan escapes him; swallowed by your own as his hands grip your hips, pulling you flush against him. The feel of him, hard and ready against you sends a thrill of anticipation darting through you.

It’s easy, simple, to allow the rhythm of your bodies to become a language all of its own. A two-way conversation being sketched out and written in sighs and moans, punctuated by the occasional gasp. A symphony of desire.

And then you make things shift. Change the tempo when your hand descends between the two of you. Feeling him, grasping his cock, taking note of the way he inhales at the feel of your fingers. For a moment, his mouth hovers over yours—both open, just breathing. His palms flat to your side—as you hold him, feel his cock twitch in your hand. Moving, slowly—almost torturously, but it’s actually with precision.

He’s so hard, thick. Your fingers tighten their hold, wrist moving more, palm sliding up and down as you taste the way he says fuck.

“Bed,” he groans, almost through gritted teeth.

Smirking, you bite his lower lip. Light. Not piercing or enough to leave an indent. “In a minute.”

And it leaves his tongue again. Fuck.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck, baby.

All you can think about is how good he sounds, looks—feels. His head tipped back, neck elongated—lips parting as each expletive lasts longer than the four letters that make it up. It’s cliché to say it’s never been like this, but a truth that personal isn’t always easy to confess.

“Not waited to do this right with you to come before you have, Rainy.”

His fingers, those calloused ones attached to those hard-working hands, wrap around your wrist. Light, but determined.

“Oh, Butterscotch,” you tease, mouth close to his. “You been thinking about this?”

He smirks, just as he clasps his other hand to your side—tugging, yanking you flush. Feeling him, all of him, as you’re guided, moved, backs of your legs meeting the well-made bed you’re about to mess up and ruin.

“Since the moment I heard you laugh.”

Your body falls back, the sheets cool, smooth, pressing against your bare spine, before his body comes up—caging you. Nudging your thighs apart with his knee.

“Just kept thinking, bet you make other pretty noises too.”

Lips parting, you knot your fingers in the curls at the base of his neck, letting his lips slide into his cheek. That dimple appearing. The one which tries to hide under wiry hair and shyness, but is deeper than ever now, nothing held back or hidden.

And you can’t help but watch, completely transfixed by the light from the lamp he'd flicked on. The one lighting up his face, making him appear golden, ethereal. Able to discern each of the shades that make up his eyes, the flecks within them, the different browns that make a colour you dream and think of constantly, but you’re not sure has any other name than Frankie.

“Can I touch you, baby?”

You find you can only nod.

Words failing, falling, simply replaced by a gasp as he slides them between your partly spread thighs—feeling it, how wet you are. How slick and desperate you are to have him. A mess, all for him, by him. It likely ruined the underwear you’d left on his floor and dampened the sheets under you.

“This all for me?”

The rasp of his voice only makes you ache more for him. Hips desperate to shift so his fingers do more than trace and tease, but plunge and curl.

“Yes,” you moan.

It's like he knows you. A thought that bubbles and bursts when your fingers grasp at his sheets, his two fingers feel so much different than your own; Than the toys you own that are shoved in protective bags inside your sock drawer. His seek, aiming to find that spot inside you, stretches you, making your toes curl and your knuckles ache from how tight they hold the sheets.

And he’s talking. A sea of things that you half-catch and miss the rest. That you look good, feel good, that he wants to watch you come apart before he even thinks about giving you his cock.

Words almost leave your mouth, but you’re barely present.

More electric than person; more liquid than solid. So fucking close already you can feel the tremors in your thighs from not rutting yourself against his hand when the base of his palm presses flat to your swollen nerves.

“Fuck, Frankie—”

“Do you like it when I talk, baby?” his voice becomes an anchor. Keeping you here, not allowing you to float too far as you nod, crinkled pillows sounding as you do. “I think you do. I think you like hearing how hard you make me, how much I think about you in this bedroom, in the shower—at work—“

You’re arching. Barely clinging to the present as your feet flatten to root you, to grip to reality as your ears ring and pleasure does more thrum, but builds and builds—all compressing, hot, closer to liquid fire.

“—look at me, baby.”

And you do.

Lids flipping open as you’re met with nothing but desire, lust and need. It pushes you, suddenly freefalling. Your throat aching, scratched with the syllables of his name as you dig fingers into his curls and curl your body as much against him as possible as he works you through it. Him coaxing, mouth on your collarbone as he licks and lathes as you moan, and pant.

It’s then you look at him again.

Bathed in a sandy glow, sweat peppered on his chest, glinting and glittering as you find his eyes on you, taking you in as you catch your breath.

He’s so handsome, beautiful. In a way that ruined you before, that made you think of nothing but him, which now devastates you—in a way you only want him to do over and over.

It’s easier to kiss him than say it.

To trace the words over his mouth as he hums, as the vibration tickles across your lips before you’re manoeuvring him. Only paused in doing so as he dragged his lips down your neck, the sound of a drawer opening, closing, hearing a wrapper crinkle.

It’s a blink and you’ll miss it moment when your hand snatches it from him, placing it between your teeth, trying as they do so easily in movies to lightly rip it over with your teeth. You struggle. Suddenly nervous about piercing it, mind in overdrive because what—

"Easy, baby. I've got it," he growls into your ear, taking it from you, opening it more with ease than you'd managed.

And it makes you crash your mouth back to his. Etching more things to his mouth, smudging them over his tongue. How much you want this, want him.

It’s why you’re grateful that Frankie moves with ease until he’s on his back and you’re on top of him. A hand finds a home on your back, once the empty wrapper is discarded, fingers spreading out, flowing warmth into your bones. Then the other begins aiding, lining himself up as the head presses against your opening.

When you take as much of him as you can, fingers soothing your hip at the stretch, the hiss drawn from your lips at the light sting, before your forehead meets his. It's a moment before you move again. His words are there, guiding, before the room is flooded with a moan that's unearthed from your soul. One that is almost smothered in his own, a groan that makes heat flood your ears and a smile grace your mouth.

“So good for me, feel so good—“

“Can take more,” you interrupt, breathless. Slowly moving again, lifting up before sliding back down his cock—walls welcoming him, stretching, taking him to the hilt. “Y’feel good, Frankie.”

“Yeah?”

Nodding, you roll your hips slowly, torturously if anything. Still sensitive. Little gasps escape as you begin to find a rhythm, one that makes his teeth bite down on his lip.

Taking his hand, pulling it to your breast, wrapping around it as he cups it—as his groan stains the air between the two of you—you draw an O with your hips, feel that heat in your stomach.

“I like your hands, Frankie.”

A line appears, deep between his two brows. A look of shock, surprise—awe—spreads over his face like a sunny day suddenly appearing in a storm. Before, it’s slipping away, hiding, wriggling away to some depth of him you wish to call back.

“I like your voice, your smile—fuck, oh my god—and-and I like your thighs, and your…”

You continue, babbling, rambling as his hands find your hips, steadying, moving you, thrusting up into you as little spots appear in your vision, as your own voice becomes distant and easily forgettable.

But the look on his face is anything but the latter.

He’s spellbound, utterly captivated—appearing as though if his mind was a camera, he’d have filled up several memory cards with what he was trying to capture.

And it feels good.

A wanting so bad that it almost makes you snap there and then, more so as the head of his cock kisses that part of you once again, a whine coated in both a gasp and a moan—

“Put your hands on the headboard, baby.”

And you do, assisted by him moving you with him sheathed inside of you before palm after palm is placed. The fabric underneath is soft, almost like velvet—leaving marks of your touch behind in its wake as you feel his mouth on the underside of your breast.

“You look good like this,” he continues, mouth pressing kisses to your skin, “But then, you always do.”

Your eyes snap to his, finding nothing but hunger paddling in brown. You don't fight the heat that flares out to the last few places pleasure hasn’t touched. Where only compliments and adoration can kiss and warm.

Then he says your name.

Not baby, not Rainy, but the one you’d handed him in that paint aisle and set yourself on a course for unravelling. A thing you don’t regret, but rather wish had happened sooner.

Your name rasped in that deep way that echoes through the room long after the last letter is spoken, digging deep into your soul as it unlocks something. It makes every sound amplified; the rustle of sheets, the creak of the bed, the sound of skin meeting skin.

“Let me hear you, baby,” cuts through, slicing,

And you do.

Your whine shifts into a sob, almost choking on it as it snaps—as pleasure rips through you and drowns you in waves. There’s nothing but white, a much louder ringer, and the distant knowledge that you’re spraying his name across the room as your hips stutter and he thrusts up into you, twitching, fucking breathless from it.

His hands, large and holding tight, keep you rooted—slowly hearing him groaning, grunting, low hisses of your name and how good you feel tight around his cock.

His fingers dig into your skin when he follows you. When his eyes clench, and his mouth parts around your name, lighting it up, making it seem as special as he makes you feel.

You collapse fully against him, thighs still shaking, little tremors in your muscles as your fingers brush back his damp curls from his forehead. A smile easy to find, to let slide over your mouth as you kiss him.

The light from the lamp drapes over you—still sticky, a mess between your thighs as you kiss him again, bodies flush. More gentle, a light lick across his bottom lip as you feel him grin, hands roaming over your body, tracing the curve of your waist, the slope of your back

He murmurs your name, palm sliding up your cheek, tip of his nose brushing against yours. “Should clean you up.”

“Hmm…”

His thumb swipes, hearing him swallow as your eyes open and find his already on you. “Don’t go.”

"To clean up?"

"Tonight."

Biting your lip, you try to fight it—less a smile and more a grin. “Okay. I won’t.”

And his lips capture yours once more. A thing you relax into—easily. Just like you keep finding so effortless to do with him.

next chapter ->

[jokeringcutio]

"This is a Nice Job" - Black Phone & FNAF Crossover - Reader Insert (Implied William Afton x Reader & Grabber x Reader) [ 1/?]

AN: As I am known to do, I might just start a few drabbles in this setting because I love it.

Summary: You're working at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza Place for William Afton and Mr. Henry, when you have a chat with the hired magician for the day: The Great Al.

Fandoms: Five Nights at Freddy's, The Black PhoneRating: Teen? Warnings: Older man/younger woman, Nothing Explicit (yet), Only implied William Afton x Reader & Grabber(Albert Shaw) x Reader, Flirting with murderers? Reader likes her job around kids. Not betaread. [ Support x ]

This was actually inspired by @cartoonykat's ask:

Loud music filled your ears, interrupted by the occasional shouts of little children as you darted between the tables, a tray of fizzing drinks balanced precariously in your grip. The squeals and laughter of children swirled around you, their faces smeared with icing and joy. You placed a paper cup before each eager set of hands, your smile never faltering.

"Careful now, don't spill," you murmured, patting a small head as its owner looked up at you with wide, grateful eyes.

"Thank you!" the child chirped, clutching the drink like a treasure.

"Happy to help," you replied, your voice a soft melody amid the cacophony of celebration.

Your gaze swept across the room, ensuring all was well, when the sudden hush of captivated little ones snagged your attention. There, at the center of the restaurant, stood Albert Shaw, the hired magician for today’s party. Freddy’s Pizza Place usually had a few performers they worked with, including a clown and this magician. His white-painted face was stark against the backdrop of colorful streamers, his large sunglasses hiding eyes that held secrets darker than the void.

‘The Great Al’, they called him, as he conjured silk scarves from his large top hat, making them dance like serpents charmed by his will alone. With the hat off you could see the shoulder-length dark hair that he hid underneath his hat most of the time. It was already turning grey, betraying his age which was harder to pinpoint with all the makeup covering his face.

He plucked coins from behind ears, eliciting gasps and giggles from his audience, each trick a thread in the tapestry of his dark artistry. He was good with the kids, you thought. His low voice occasionally made its way over the music that he had playing in the background. You found yourself rooted to the spot, your heart thudding a dangerous rhythm.

"Watch closely," he intoned, his low gravelly voice a siren's call that reverberated through your bones. A deck of cards appeared in his hands, flickering through his fingers as if alive. Strong hands, you noted. Thick fingers. Delicious. No – You shook the dirty thoughts away. You shouldn’t be thinking about one of the restaurant’s performers like that.

And then, with a flourish that defied logic, the cards transformed into a flurry of doves, their wings beating against the still air of the restaurant. The children erupted in applause, but you barely heard them. Your pulse quickened. The magician smiled as he revealed a small box and teased the kids with it. It was empty, but after a magical spell, the box was suddenly filled with enough candy to share around. You’d seen this performance several times now, and every time he managed to captivate you.

"Impossible," someone whispered beside you, echoing the disbelief that churned in your thoughts.

Al's performance built to a crescendo, the very air charged with anticipation. With a final bow, he finished, receiving thunderous cheers from his young fans.

"Amazing," you breathed, the word slipping out like a prayer to a deity you were only beginning to comprehend.

"Excuse me,” the voice cut through the din of merriment, stark and commanding. You flinched, recognizing the voice before you turned around. “Could you come here for a moment?"

Oh no, have I done something wrong? The worried voice echoed inside your mind. I was only looking for a moment, Mr. Afton, you thought to yourself, focusing on what you could say in your defense. I was still on the job and paying attention.

Mr. Afton, your boss and one of the restaurant’s owners, stood in the dimly lit entrance to his office, his eyes fixed on you with an intensity that made your skin prickle. He was tall, his stature was impressive for a man of his age. Already greying at the top, hair thinning, large glasses enlarging his eyes, belly poking out from underneath his arms.

You hesitated, your gaze lingering on the excited group of kids that had gathered around Albert Shaw. But duty called, its voice as inescapable as gravity. With one last glance at the festive chaos of the party, you made your way toward your boss, the weight of his stare pulling you forward like a marionette on taut strings.

"Mr. Afton," you greeted him, striving for a tone of respectful professionalism despite the unease coiling in your stomach.

"Come inside my office," not a question, but a demand thinly veiled with kindness. His lips curled into a semblance of a smile, not quite reaching the coldness of his eyes behind those aviator glasses.

Mr. Afton was a tall man, taller than most that you met in your life. His hair was thinning on top and greying but still had a lively curl to it. His eyes seemed larger behind the thick glasses he wore. Strands of grey adorned his pepper-and-salt beard. He was the exact definition of a ‘dad bod’.  In fact, you had heard he had a family, even though you’d never seen them. Rumors said he was divorced.

You followed him inside to see a large desk, files, and papers strewn all over it. There was an animatronic in the corner of the room, purple, with ears hanging. You thought it might be some kind of rabbit.

The thud of the door closing behind you made you jump and you turned to look behind you to see Afton had closed it. His eyes met yours, only for a short while, and you fidgeted nervously with your hands because… had you done something wrong? Had he caught you looking at the magician? That must have been it, there was nothing else it could have been. He must think you to be slacking. But you weren’t. You were still alert, still focused on any peep from a parent or child.

You needed this job and actually liked it more than you thought you would.

"I've been watching you,” your boss started, licking his lips as he walked toward his desk and then turned to lean against it. He folded his arms in front of his chest, his purple tie wrinkling with the motion against his yellow blouse. The sleeves were pulled up, showing strong forearms riddled with veins and scars.

“You have a knack for this,” he started in that low, stern voice of his. “Keeping the little ones entertained."

"Thank you, sir," you replied, shuffling awkwardly in front of his desk. There was a chair there, but should you sit down? He remained standing so you should too, right? Your mind was racing. Had you done something wrong? Had you not followed protocol? Was your uniform in order?

"I just want to make sure they're all having a good time," the words stumbled from your lips, clumsily and awkwardly, but the smile you managed afterward seemed to soften the look in Mr. Afton’s eyes.

"Indeed." He took a step closer, his presence overwhelming, like a storm cloud blotting out the sun. "However, I couldn't help but notice you seemed... distracted. By the magician, was it?"

You swallowed hard, caught off guard. "He's very talented," you deflected, but Mr. Afton's gaze pierced through your defenses, reading unspoken words.

“I,” you hesitated and watched as your boss raised a brow. Swallowing down your fear and gathering your courage, you spoke up again, louder this time. “I was still keeping an eye on the kids and delivering orders though. I might have seemed distracted but I was still doing my job.”

“So it seems,” Mr. Afton murmured, pressing a finger against his lips thoughtfully. You watched the wrinkle between his eyes deepen as he frowned.

"Be careful," he murmured, his voice silk over steel. "You are a pretty girl and I have noticed the man has been looking at you. People aren't always what they seem." There was a warning there, wrapped in the velvet of concern, yet it felt like a threat all the same.

"Of course, Mr. Afton. I'll remember that." Your words were steady, but inside, confusion and curiosity churned. Why did it feel like he cared? And why did it matter so much?

"Good." He clasped your shoulder briefly – a gesture that tried to be fatherly but felt possessive. "Keep up the good work. We need employees like you."

"Thank you, sir." You nodded, excusing yourself from his heavy gaze, a strange sense of relief flooding you as you stepped back into the colorful light of the party.

But as you returned to refilling cups and plating slices of cake, you couldn't shake the feeling of Mr. Afton's eyes on you, nor could you ignore the tingling sensation where his hand had been.

What had that been all about?

You wove through the sea of balloons and streamers, your heart still thudding from Mr. Afton's cryptic parting words. The din of the party enveloped you, a cacophony of glee that almost drowned out the lingering unease. Almost.

The magician, Albert Shaw, stood center stage, lowering his sunglasses to reveal his pale eyes sweeping over the crowd like a predator surveying prey. Tiny hands clapped with fervor as he flourished his final trick – a bouquet appearing from thin air. The children squealed, their delight pure and infectious. But when your gaze met his, something flickered there – an abyss that beckoned and repelled.

"Bravo!" The word slipped from your lips, but the echo in your mind whispered caution.

"Thank you, my dear audience!" Shaw's voice wrapped around the room, velvet lined with smoke. His bow was elegant, yet each movement seemed calculated, a dance with shadows only he could see.

As you slipped behind the bar, the festive chaos became a blur. You began stacking cups, the routine task grounding you. You missed Erica and Lucy. They at least pulled you into conversations every now and again. Today, your only colleagues were Mike and El, who were just teenagers whose hormones had started to work and who were way too busy with each other than with managing the tables. And there were Justin and Jax. The two J’s. Boys who had worked here for so much longer than you that they often forgot you were there and were mostly talking to each other.

You were so caught up in your own thoughts, focusing on the music that played from the speakers softly in the background, that you hadn’t noticed the magician’s approach until his presence loomed over you. Albert Shaw leaned against the polished wood, his silhouette casting a long shadow in the neon glow.

"Could I trouble you for a glass of water?" His request was simple, mundane, but it crawled under your skin, insistent.

That voice, you thought, hearing that deliciously dark rasp in it. Was he a smoker? Whatever caused his voice to sound like that, it worked for you. It did things no employee should have to go through during working hours.

Embarrassing really.

"Of course," you replied, your voice steady despite the tremble in your fingers. "It's on the house," you joked. You poured the water, the liquid crystal clear and innocent, an odd contrast to the darkness that seemed to cling to him.

"Generous," he remarked, a smile quirking at the corner of his mouth. It was a smile that promised secrets, a whisper of sin.

“I do have lemonade, soda, perhaps a fizzy drink?” You offered, cocking a brow. “I know there are cans of beer in the back. I could get a real drink for you. No costs.”

The man’s expression was hard to read, with all the makeup and the dark glasses hiding his bright eyes once more. But you thought you could see his smirk grow. His fingers curled around the glass of water, muscles tensing.

“A soda, then,” he said after a contemplative hum. “I still need to drive home.”

“A soda it is then,” you confirmed, looking at him from over your shoulder as you set to work to get him his free drink. “Most men prefer the beers.”

“Like I said,” his gravelly voice came while he tapped the brim of his top hat. “Got to drive.”

You watched as he sipped from his glass of water. Little droplets of sweat were running down the sides of his cheeks, smudging the white of his makeup.

“Responsible,” you murmured, placing the soda in front of him. “Here you are, sir.”

“Thanks.” He took the glass, fingers brushing yours. Electric. Intentional. You inhaled sharply, the air suddenly thick with something unspoken.

Your pulse raced. This man was danger masquerading as charm, and yet, you were drawn like a moth to a flame.

You cleared your throat and quickly turned away.

"Nice performance," you managed, feeling heat creep into your cheeks. The innocence of the party around you clashed with the intensity of the moment, the frivolity of balloon animals and birthday cake juxtaposed against the enigma before you. You were vaguely aware of eyes upon you, but when you looked up, all of your co-workers were busy minding themselves.

“You’ve seen me perform before,” the magician said. Touché. He was right there. “Was today’s better than all my other performances? Or just not as bad?”

You turned to face him again, forcing a small smile.

“It’s always a pleasure to watch your shows,” you hesitatingly confessed. Were your cheeks red again? Could he see that you were blushing? You hoped not. You clumsily started to wipe the bar with a wet rag, wiping away stains of spilled drinks and oily fries.

"Albert Shaw," he introduced himself formally, though you already knew. His name had been murmured in hushed, awed tones all day. He was on the list in the backrooms, hired via Abracadabra Entertainment & Supplies. You knew Afton and Henry bought most of their balloons and garlands from them as well. Although the agency wasn’t as big as Ha-Ha’s, from which they hired their clowns.  

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Shaw." Your reply was automatic, but your mind was alight with curiosity and a dangerous thrill. You lifted the wet rag, showing you couldn’t shake hands with him, to which he took no notice. He reached for your free hand, despite it being wet from the rag as well, took it without hesitation, and shook it.

You stood frozen, uncertain of what to do or how to react, when his hand was already long gone. But Albert was already talking, seemingly unaware of how the little gesture – that little skin-on-skin contact – had rattled you.

"Please, call me Albert." His tone was insistent, a command cloaked in courtesy.

"Then you should call me…" You cut yourself short, almost giving away more than you meant to, "a fan of your work." Not that he wouldn’t know your name by now. It was on a badge on your chest.

"Perhaps one day," he said softly, "you'll show me what you're a fan of up close." The suggestion hung heavy between you, tantalizing and terrifying.

"Maybe," you breathed, the word barely more than a whisper.

As he leaned forward, his finger darted out to the badge on your chest. “Pretty name,” the words tumbled from his lips far more erotically than they should have. “Fits you.”

He then leaned back on the stool in front of the bar and picked up his glass while you spun around with cheeks all flushed, the wet rag still in your hands. You made the error of pressing the rag against your forehead, making you wince and leave for the backroom to get rid of it and dry your head.

This man was making you do weird things.

Upon your return, he was still at the bar, finishing a talk to one of the parents, and seemed to have taken his glasses off. Finally. Wearing sunglasses indoors was weird. As the dad left, Albert turned back to you and nursed his drink. Your eyes deliberately focused on the kids playing, rather than on the way the magician’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he drank.

Yup. Definitely not going to look at that.

“You’re enjoying this job, aren’t you?” Albert’s words caught you by surprise and you turned to him.

“Well, yes,” you said, because it was obvious. At least you hoped it was.

“You’re smiling radiantly. Like a bright star in the night,” Albert said, a toothy smile cracked the white of his makeup.

“Well," you replied, trying to steady your breathing. "Their laughter, it's... it's infectious." Your words fluttered out, betraying the turmoil within.

"Laughter, yes," he echoed, but something about his tone felt off. It gave you that weird shivery feeling down your spine. "The sound of pure... innocence."

He drank the soda, watching you over the rim of the glass, and you knew that this was no ordinary thirst. This was the thirst of a man accustomed to getting what he desires, by means unknown and best left unexplored.

You shifted uncomfortably, the weight of his stare heavy on your skin and you vaguely excused yourself. “I got swipe behind here too or the boss will think I’m not working.” Anything to get away from his eyes.

“Of course,” Albert replied, the grin never leaving his face.

“Didn’t he used to perform as well?” Albert’s question surprised you and you blinked up, already holding a broom in your hands.

“Huh?”

Albert hummed. “The yellow bunny suit, if I remember correctly. He told me about it once.”

You had to stifle a laugh. “What’s up with you performers and hiding your faces?” You asked. “You, the clowns, all use makeup. And the acrobat lady too. Or they wear big suits with masks.”

"Ah, but we all wear masks, don't we?" Albert tilted his head, a lock of greying hair falling across his brow.

"Sometimes without knowing it," you agreed, feeling the truth of those words more than you cared to admit. Then you sighed, the broom nearly slipping out of your hands.

“I don’t like wearing masks though,” you admitted almost dreamily. “I like to show the world who I really am. Putting on a front seems incredibly tiresome to me, don’t you agree?”

When your eyes met those of Albert, they were unreadable.

“It’s an astonishing thing, to be bashfully and unashamedly oneself.” The words came out brittle, then he reached into the pocket of his black coat.

"Here," he said, slipping a card from his sleeve with a flourish that made you jump. The black and red design swirled before your eyes, hypnotic. "In case you ever need a touch of magic."

His smile was a predator's grin, yet oddly charming.

“Got to do all my advertising myself. And since you were impressed…”

"Thank you," you stammered, feeling the card's smooth edges as you took it. The numbers danced under your fingertips, promising things unsaid.

"Call anytime," he added with a wink. It felt like a secret pact, one you weren't sure you wanted to be part of.

"Maybe I will," you murmured, pocketing the card, the heat of the exchange lingering like a spell.

As he turned to leave, Mr. Afton's shadow fell over you, icy and suffocating. You looked up to find his gaze locked onto yours, unreadable. Was it anger? Curiosity? Longing?

"Good work today," he said, each word measured and precise, but there was something else in his tone. A darkness that coiled beneath the surface.

"Thank you, Mr. Afton," you responded automatically, trying to sound unaffected. But your heart raced, betraying your composure.

"Keep our guests happy," he continued, his voice low, commanding. "That's what keeps them coming back."

"Of course," you nodded, but his eyes never left yours, pinning you like a butterfly in a case.

After a silence that felt like an eternity, Mr. Afton’s stern gaze finally left your face and he turned away from you. “Good girl,” it was but a low whisper, and you had to blink, wondering if the words had been real or if you had imagined them.

The moment you came out of your daze, Mr. Afton had returned to his office, seating himself behind his desk and leaving the door ajar so that he was in your field of vision. Your eyes searched the bar, but it seemed that ‘The Great Al’ had left.

As you watched Mr. Shaw vanish behind the swinging double doors, a shiver crawled up your spine. Laughter and chattering filled your ears, pulling you back to the here and now. And when you looked up, it was to see Mr. Afton as he lifted his eyes from the papers he was working on. Pale eyes that rested upon you for just a tick too long.

You loved your job, but whatever was going on here, you had no clue. The possibilities that filled your mind were too weird to consider. Patting the card hidden away on your body as a silent reminder to put it in your bag before you went home, you decided to ignore the weird tension that had been in the room earlier. And with a smile on your face, you went back into the sea of kids.

You loved this job and all the odd people you met through it.

AN: Guys, I did a thing (: Have you noticed the Arthur Fleck/Joker hints in it.

[effervescentdragon]

trick or treat 🎃👻

thank youuuuu! here is an excerpt from the sewis spy au for you ela 🥰😘💞

"Hello. I think your martini needs a refill," someone said from his left, in accented English. Lewis' hackles rose immediately, but he acted unaffected as he turned to look at the newcomer.

The first thing he noticed were the stranger's eyes. They were blue, too blue, and too clear. He was smiling at Lewis, and he looked young, deceptively so. His smile was wide, and had too many teeth, but it wasn't threatening. His dirty blond hair was curled, and it looked soft.

Lewis blinked.

"Excuse me?" He said suavely, smiling his distracted smile.

The man chuckled.

"Oh, you're excused." His eyes twinkled. "I think you should either get a refill, or, even better, finish your drink and then maybe go somewhere else."

'Achilles, stand by. Play along. We don't know who he is, but we're checking.'

Lewis couldn't reply, so he obeyed and played along, even though every nerve in his body was on alert.

"Why would I do that? I like the atmosphere here," he said with his flirtiest smile.

The man blinked, his eyes darting to Lewis' lips in a blink-and-you'll-miss-it second. His smile didn't falter.

"That may be so, although I wouldn't agree. The music is atrocious," he said, and Lewis placed his accent as German. "But, and I say this with all the respect due, you would be better being anywhere else tonight."

That sounded - ominous.

"Oh? And why is that?" Lewis asked, and even though his tone was unchanged and he never looked away from the stranger, his whole body was already coiled for a fight.

The stranger tapped his fingers on the bar, looking at Lewis and biting his lip. That damn smile was still on his face, but there was something in his eyes, something that Lewis couldn't read, and yet, whatever it was, it felt honest.

The stranger leaned closer to him, and Lewis could smell the fresh pine scent of him. Up close, his eyes were even bluer, and as tempestuous as the ocean.

"Because," he said in an almost-whisper, and Lewis could feel the echo of his breath on his own lips. "You are out of your depth here. This is a trap, Achilles."

Lewis' mouth went dry. He couldn't help the widening of his eyes, nor the pounding of adrenaline that coursed through his body in an instant.

'Fuck!' Bono shouted through the comms, his voice frazzled. 'Get out, Achilles, get out! Whoever he is, he's right - our data shows three vehicles filled with Bull mercenaries just arriving at the club's back entrance!'

Lewis knew he should start running immediately, but he couldn't look away from the stranger's eyes.

"Who are you?" He whispered, feeling like an amateur the instant the words left his lips. The stranger's gaze softened imperceptibly for a second. He licked his lips, and Lewis couldn't help but look. They were pink, and full, and the moisture on them shone brightly in the club lights.

"Someone who doesn't want you to die."

[straycalamities]

I NEED to know more about ace. I'm home of sexual for him

hee hee :-)))))))) okay have a lil summary rundown of the Lad

name: Ace Dale Miller age: (typically) early 30s pronouns: he/him identity: transgender panromantic asexual man birthday: June 7 height: 5'10" (177cm)

how he dresses: always nice, always sharp. any dishevelment is calculated. wears either real designer or fake designer depending on where he's at financially. typically blazers, loafers, and slacks, but will go e3 announcer w a tshirt, brand new sneakers, and jeans (underneath a blazer) sometimes. yknow. casual. sleeps in tshirt and sleep pants

alignment: (typically) true neutral religious beliefs: nonpracticing Christian (barely above the atheist line) hobbies: darts, flirting, mobile games, cards (games and tricks), being right and flaunting it habits/quirks: pops his gum, chews his food obnoxiously even while talking, fidgeting with pens (and other objects), drumming, leg bouncing likes: money, luxury, fame, attention, bars, casinos, winning, pop music, comedy, musicals, gold, the number 7, praise, compliments, did i say attention?, being catered to, travel, being right dislikes: being touched, his upbringing/hometown, certain drunks, being by himself, boredom, being quiet, extreme violence, being dirty, being ignored, physical labor, creepy crawlies fears: being irrelevant, growing old, ending up anything like his father, certain bugs aspirations: be so fucking rich and famous skills: silver-tongue, sleight-of-hand, street-wise, poker face, speeches, singing, thinking things through from a social/human standpoint, kinetic learner secrets: lol like...everything that isn't already on the surface. he's a very private person

typically carries: wallet, phone, keys, caffeine gum, deck of cards

personality traits: snarky, fake-smiler, egotistical, charming, charismatic, sarcastic, doesn't believe in scenarios where he'll lose, classist, hyperbolic, deflective, bratty, large ham, drama queen, people-smart, private, optimistic when it comes to himself, braggart, loud, stubborn, coward, smug, must be on top/right/the best, tsundere (once u reach that layer. honestly there's just a whole new slew of personality traits every time you break through one of his layers)

background summary: i wont get too into it bc :) secrets. but he's a rags-to-riches self-made man. forced to grow up way too early and clawed his way to the top. daddy issues.

favorite color: gold favorite band: 3Oh!3 favorite crooner: Frank Sinatra favorite music genres: pop, jazz, swing favorite games: poker, bejeweled, candy crush favorite food: deluxe cheeseburgers favorite drink: apple juice favorite movie: (uh...this is actually hard bc we wouldnt have the same taste at ALL so i havent seen...most of the movies i think he'd like LOLLL i'll just say Mean Girls because he does like it but i dont think it's his ultra fav)

[your-divine-ribs]

The Devil Next Door Part 7

Words: 2.8k

Van’s in big trouble 🤭

The Devil Next Door Masterlist Main Masterlist

❤️‍🔥 Y/N’s POV ❤️‍🔥

"D'ya want to come in... for a drink?"

You don't have to ask. You don't actually have to invite either of them inside. Your night out's over, you've been delivered back safely to your doorstep, you can just say your goodbyes and duck inside and go straight to bed and indulge in your nightly fantasies alone... but you don't.

You're still reeling from the strength of the ridiculous feelings that's Van's evoked in you. Jealousy that you've got no business feeling. So you're not really thinking with your head when you turn to Tom and extend the invitation to him and only him. You're thinking entirely with that seething mass of red-hot jealousy in the pit of your gut as you look straight at Tom, feel Van's fingers that were curled around the crook of your arm fall away as he steps back.

"Yeah... yeah sure... I'd love to. I'm on an early shift tomorrow but it won't hurt to have a quick one, will it? I was all set to go to the pub anyway!"

It's dark outside but you still catch the sparkle in Tom's eyes as he steps up on to the pavement beside you.

"C'mon then..." you urge, purposefully not looking at Van, dropping your head down as you try to locate your key in your bag.

You're aware that you're being blatantly rude blanking Van but you can't bring yourself to look up at him. You're too busy trying to ignore the little voice in your head that's telling you that you're only inviting Tom inside in front of Van to elicit a reaction from him, trying instead to reason with yourself that your main aim of going out tonight was to focus on spending quality time with Tom. That's why you're prolonging your evening with him. It's got nothing to do with a childish attempt at payback for being forced to hear all about Van's adoring female fans and his plentiful muses. Nothing at all.

"It was really good to meet you Van, make sure to let Y/N know next time there's a gig, I'd love to come along. You've definitely got yourself a new fan!"

Tom calls out and you finally look up, surprised to see that Van's moved away, in fact he's already reached his front door. Disappointment washes over you at the realisation that maybe he's not as hung up on you as you thought. But what were you really expecting? Van might be a dick but he wouldn't play some dirty trick to mess up the rest of your night with Tom... would he?

"That's good to hear mate, class," Van mumbles, slipping a cigarette between his lips and sparking up his lighter, his eyes darting to you and then quickly away as Tom slips an arm casually over your shoulder.

This is what you wanted, you tell yourself, pushing away the discomfort you feel at Van's sulky pout as he blows out a plume of smoke into the night. He's taken his usual spot leaning up against the brickwork by his front door, the one he normally inhabits as he watches you emerge from and enter your house each day, keen eyes trailing over every inch of you. He's not watching you now though. His gaze is fixed on the floor, the toe of his boot scuffling at the ground as he kicks aimlessly at the gravel.

You usher Tom in quickly and he follows you into the kitchen, accepting your offer of a cup of tea whilst you bustle about, busying yourself so you don't have to think of Van standing outside alone.

"You really weren't kidding when you said you didn't like Van were you?" Tom says as he leans back against the cabinets. "I don't think you said a word to him all the way home. I actually thought he seemed okay."

"Ughh but he's so full of himself though!" You reply, pleased to be able to let the annoyance that he stirs up in you out, glad that it overshadows the other feelings. "Did you hear him talking about girls throwing themselves at him at gigs?"

Tom's face cracks into a wide grin as he chuckles. "He's not wrong though is he? My ears are still ringing from all the screaming!"

"I swear if his head gets any bigger he won't be able to fit through the door!" You start laughing then too as you pour freshly boiled water into mugs.

"It must be a real confidence boost though, being up there on stage, watching everyone loving it. The crowd were pretty wild tonight... and they knew every lyric. They've obviously got a dedicated following. And I think every front man's got a bit of an ego... it kinda comes with the job, don't you think?"

You roll your eyes as you pass Tom his mug. "Don't make excuses for him... he's a dick!"

Tom laughs again. "You're a harsh woman! Remind me never to get on the wrong side of you!"

"Yeah well... he deserves it. Honestly, you should hear the way he talks to me. He quite obviously hates me..."

You trail off as you see Tom shaking his head with obvious amusement. "You really think so?"

"Uh-huh," you nod, taking a sip of your tea, hoping Tom won't notice the warmth that's started to tinge your cheeks. "I don't just think it, I know it."

"Nah... there's no way. No way he hates you."

"He bloody does!" You protest. "Right from day one when he moved in he's been giving me shit. He takes great pleasure in winding me up."

"He's certainly good at doing that," Tom laughs. "But he doesn't hate you... not at all. If you ask me he quite clearly fancies the pants off you! Anyone can see from a mile off that he does!"

WHAT???

You almost spray the mouthful of tea you've just taken in Tom's face you're that stunned by his words, and you swallow it quickly instead, too quick which makes you cough and splutter.

"You must be joking!" You croak out amidst your coughs, hoping your choking fit will account for your glowing cheeks.

Tom steps over to rub your back soothingly. "Sorry love, didn't mean to make you choke! I'm being serious though. He definitely fancies you. I can't believe you've not noticed the way he looks at you. When you pulled that finger-sucking stunt I thought he was going to explode!"

"Oh god... please don't remind me!" You groan, covering your face with your free hand. Embarrassment's coming off you in waves, and Tom seems to be thoroughly enjoying your flustered reaction, chuckling away whilst he teases you.

"Bet he was secretly wishing he'd injured a different body part!"

"For fucks sake Tom!" You cry, wishing the ground would open up and swallow you whole. You aim a playful whack at his upper arm whilst he laughs even harder, his eyes crinkled up in mirth. "Sorry... I couldn't resist it!"

"Can we stop talking about bloody Van now please?" You say when your laughter starts to subside. "I can think of a million more interesting topics."

"I'm only teasing," he grins, his face all lit up.

God, he really is gorgeous, the way his honeyed brown eyes glow with warmth and that boyish smile that makes your insides do a little somersault. Why are you even still entertaining thoughts of Van when you have Tom standing here, right now, in your kitchen, looking at you like there's nowhere else he'd rather be?

You've always convinced yourself before that as much as you like Tom you have no desire to spark anything further than the warm friendship you two share, but something ignites inside you at that moment as you picture closing the gap between the two of you and chancing for a kiss, wondering how he'd react.

"I had a really good time tonight," he says, pushing a hand through his dark curls, a shy smile emerging as he stammers over his next line. "You know... I've... errr... actually been dying to... umm... ask you out... for ages... but I always chickened out. I was worried what you'd say."

Your heart skips a little beat, thoughts of Van temporarily fading away as you watch Tom push off from where he's been leaning, taking a small step towards you.

"It's only me... what were you worrying about?" You ask, your pulse quickening.

"I thought..." he starts then stops, clears his throat, tries again. "I thought... umm... I didn't know whether you liked me... in that way."

"Oh..." is all you manage, suddenly lost for words. You watch as Tom's gaze flicks down to your lips and back up again, realising that you've been staring at his lips too, quickly looking up to meet his eyes. "I... errr... I do... I mean yeah... I do... like you."

"Good..."

You suddenly realise how quiet it is in the kitchen, the ticking of the wall clock sounding in time with your heart that's pounding now, picking up a pace as Tom takes another step towards you, reaches out a hand to catch one of yours...

❤️‍🔥 Van’s POV ❤️‍🔥

“Nice one Van, you’ve well and truly fucked that one up.”

I draw my jacket tightly around my body as I mutter to myself, flicking my cigarette butt to the ground and grinding it under the heel of my boot. This wasn't how the night was supposed to end. It was supposed to end with me and Y/N... together... naked bodies entwined, skin on skin as I kissed and licked every inch of her gorgeous body. I wanted to find out what made her shiver, what made her body buck, I wanted her to bury her hands in my hair and hold on tight whilst I nuzzled in between her spread thighs and made her come over and over again, my name falling from her lips like a prayer.

Fuck... I bet she tasted sweet. Not that I'd ever find out at this rate. Tom had looked like all his Christmases had come at once when she invited him in. He's probably in there right now, buttering her up nice and sweet, charming her with his movie-star looks and his winning personality. She's probably not even given me a second thought whilst I'm out here sulking on my front doorstep.

I don't normally give up this easily but for once I actually feel defeated as I fish in my jacket pocket for my front door key. I'd been tempted to have another smoke but there seems like little point in lingering around outside torturing myself with thoughts of what's probably taking place next door. And it's not like I can interrupt them can I? Boldly knock on Y/N's front door and invite myself inside? I'd already tried to get her alone and she'd point blank ignored me. I'll just have to accept that whatever happens between them tonight just happens... unless...

I look down at the key in my outstretched palm and a little seed of an idea starts to sprout in my mind. Supposing I'd lost my key and couldn't get in the house? Supposing I'd called Bondy and he was on a proper sesh with the lads... not due home until the early hours... what then? I couldn't possibly be expected to stand around outside for hours waiting for him to show up. Not when my next door neighbour was up and about. And it's not like I know anyone else on the street is it?

It's a bad idea... I know that for a fact, but now it's in my head it's refusing to shift. It's taking root, growing by the second, squeezing out my good intentions of just letting fate take its course. I quickly shove my key back into my jacket pocket and step purposefully towards Y/N's, and I'm all set to knock on the door when I detect movement out of the corner of my eye through a slat in her blinds which are closed but gaping open at the top. I figure our houses are probably laid out the same which would make this room her kitchen and before I can even really think about what I'm doing I find myself side-stepping her doorstep and making for the window. It's dark and I can't see what the fuck I'm doing as my boots sink into the mud of her flower-bed but that doesn't deter me. I'm being powered by intrigue now and an absurdly strong helping of curiosity which is clouding my better judgement. I need to see what Y/N and Tom are up to and I know it's wrong on so many levels but for some reason, every scrap of good sense and my morals seem to go out of the window whenever she's around. I'm like a man possessed as I press my back flat against the wall, creeping along like a bloody criminal until I reach the window ledge.

Just a quick peek, I promise myself. I'm not a creep and I'm certainly not a voyeur. If I'm too late and Y/N and Tom are going at it hard and fast against the kitchen cabinets I'll swallow my pride and leave them to it and walk away. But on the other hand if I'm still in with a chance I'll take it. What do they say? All's fair in love and war?

My heart's pumping quickly and the blood's rushing through my veins as I very carefully turn to press my face to the glass, but the gap's too high, I still can't see. My only view is the top of the cupboards from here. I need to be higher, taller, and stretching up on my tiptoes just isn't cutting it.

"Shit!" I hiss under my breath as my jacket catches on something sharp and I wrench it free. There's a trellis fixed on the wall by the window full of foliage and I give it a tug. It feels sturdy enough, if I use it to step up it'll just give me that little bit of extra height that I need. My injured finger screams at me as I clutch at the wood with a claw-like grip, getting a fistful of thorns, but I ignore the pain. I need to see.

I boost myself up easily and all of a sudden there they are. Y/N's standing there with that pretty little coy smile on her face, eyes fixed firmly on Tom. I can't see his expression as he's turned away from me but I can imagine it. There's definitely a moment passing between them, I can feel that familiar acidic burn of jealousy at the back of my throat as he steps even closer to her. They're going to kiss. They're going to fucking kiss and I've missed my chance!

FUCK IT!

I've seen enough, I can't watch anymore. I flex my fingers which feel stiff, preparing to step down when all of a sudden the trellis shifts under my weight. It all happens so fast. One moment I'm pressed flush to Y/N's window but the next I'm slipping, my footing gone but my hands still grasping at the structure. To my horror, the sound of splintering wood fills my ears as the whole thing rips noisily away from the brickwork and before I can do anything about it I'm plummeting backwards, letting out a cry of shock as the floor rushes up to meet me. I land half in the flower-bed, half on the paving slabs, my head cracking harshly on the stone, my limbs spread-eagled out like a limp starfish. I'd probably laugh at the absurdity of the situation if I wasn't in so much trouble. Because I am in trouble. I know I am. Big fucking trouble.

"Van! What the fuck? What the hell are you doing?"

For saying Y/N and Tom had looked pretty wrapped up in each other only moments before it certainly didn't take her long to get to her front door and wrench it open. She's glaring down on me now, hands on hips, her expression somewhere between horrified shock and bewildered confusion. All I can do is look back at her, my brain scrabbling desperately for a believable explanation even though I know it's futile. I try anyway, lifting my head to croak out a few words.

"I lost my key... I thought I'd dropped it but I can't find it anywhere. Don't suppose I could come in, eh?"

[fantasies-fairytales-n-fics]

Thranduil and Josie Pt. 116- Cruel Intentions

Summary: Narcisse has dinner with Catherine that leaves him quite sick to his stomach. Legolas and Josie share a sweet moment. Garrett receives an unexpected and unwanted visitor. The enchanted sorcerous Raven is up to her dirty old magic tricks again. Garrett makes a huge mistake that will soon cost him the one thing he holds most dear.

*Warnings* SUPER DARK...Angst, mentions of animal death, violence, language, smut, strong sexual content

Stories Stories Stories Masterlist

Narcisse reluctantly entered his private dining chamber to find Catherine already seated, drinking her wine awaiting his arrival.

"So what is the meaning of this private dinner invitation in my quarters and so late at that?"

"I prefer to end the evening with a fine meal in my belly." she said with a smile and raised her glass to him as he sat down, unphased by her gesture and dug right into his steak that surprisingly tasted rather delicious compared to what his staff usually prepared.

"I appreciate the gesture, but there are many things here that need my attention."

"It seems you have everything here under control."

"I have led armies. Surely those skills count for something. Something more than just occupying you." Narcisse barked in frustration of his time being wasted.

"Perhaps your annoyance stems from not missing out on your duties but from missing your precious lady Josephine and being the grieving widow's hero, fighting her battles?"

Narcisse stopped chewing for a moment to look at her and then continued on.

"I thought we put that particular brand of jealousy to bed."

"I've been watching you Stephane." she said with a devious smile.

"Oh you mean you've been having me followed." he retorted.

"My spies, they saw you and Josephine at your...sanctuary.'

"That was weeks ago and it was nothing more than just tea and conversation on a nice day."

"And just today, you were seen embracing her, near feet from your chambers that I used to occupy with you, but now she sleeps in your bed." she snarled.

(Watch the short video clip of 2:19 below to see what happens or you'll miss out on some good stuff. I thought it was a great scene that should be seen and heard.)

Narcisse leaned on the table to take in what he just learned and encountered. This woman was of pure wickedness which is one of the reasons he was trying to rid of her, but it was no simple task to complete as no one leaves Catherine de Medici, and after the revelation of what Catherine had done to hurt him, he desperately worried for you. There was only one thing he could do to keep you safe from her jealous rage and it would hurt you deeply and possibly make you hate him, but that is the price he was willing to pay when it came to Catherine's wrath. For Narcisse, the fear was not to be hated by her, but to be loved by her.

You laid down on your bed, clutching your moonstone pendant in your hand and cried. To have it back meant everything to you for you now had another part of Thranduil, but what good would it do you without his ring. The two were connected as one, just as you and Thranduil, and each did not have the other. Although the stone had reacted to your touch, you still felt no powers inside of you. You should have been thrilled beyond measure for this gift, but instead, you felt hopeless, defeated.... and so hollow inside.

A knock came to the door.

"Josie...it is Legolas. May I...please come in?"

You looked at Lola and nodded.

As soon as he saw you, he knew something was wrong and came right to you, kneeling at your bedside.

"Josie...I...I had to see you...I do not have words for my behavior. I never meant to hurt you. Please tell me you believe that."

"I'm numb. I feel nothing right now, so it don't matter."

"Of course it matters. You matter to me and I am so sorry for..."

"Legolas, it's not you alright? It's...that."

You looked down at your hand the held the gem.

Legolas eyes widened and then they darted to yours.

"Your moonstone...where did you get this? Was it not in Mirkwood?"

"It was, yes. The crow, that's where he went...and he brought it to me tonight after I had just asked Thranduil for a sign that he was still with me."

You pushed your face into the pillow and began to cry. Legolas laid his hand on your face as he felt his heart break.

"He will always be with you and will always be a part of you as well. I know my words offer you no comfort but I do not know what else to do."

"You don't need to do anything. You lost him too. You shouldn't be trying to comfort me when you're hurting just as much."

"Yes I should. We can comfort each other."

"I haven't been doing a very good job of that have I? I've been selfish as if I am the only one you bears his loss....and even Haldir. They were best friends at one time and when Thranduil had lost his memory, believing that Haldir and him were still that close, that really did a number on them both when his memory returned....where is he? Is he alright?"

"Yes, he is sleeping off the wicked ale." Legolas said with a soft grin.

You lightly chuckled. "Well, I cannot blame either of you for trying to find a temporary escape. I will have to spend some time with Haldir and maybe you two could try being a little nicer to each other. We're all family."

All you could think of in that moment is what your disgusting mother did to Haldir and felt guilty for not being there for him because he certainly wasn't going to talk about it with anyone else. No one knew what happened but you, although you believed Thranduil did.

"You are right Josie. I will try to do better....in fact, I will go check on him when I leave. Try to get some rest if you can and...I am only across the hall. Please...if you need me, come to me. Pinky promise?"

This time you belted out a laugh.

"You remember that huh?"

"I have forgotten nothing you have taught me of your human life."

You raised your hand. "Ok, promise."

Legolas wrapped his hand around your wrist and with his other hand, he curled his little finger around yours, then smiled so sweetly.

"Goodnight Josie."

He stood up, then bent down and kissed your forehead as his palm laid upon your cheek. You stared at each other for a moment, then he smiled and left.

You sighed and kissed the moonstone, then closed your eyes wishing for a better day tomorrow.

Although Raven had told Thranduil she had people to visit, she only had one in mind as she landed on Devil's island. Garrett. She was taking one hell of a risk coming to see him when he hated her guts and could easily take her on with no effort in a battle, but he still had her heart, her one true love and King that she so desired... she had wished for a King like him with the spell she used but had went terribly wrong and delivered her Jareth instead. Definitely karma she supposed but now she planned on getting what she's always wanted, one way or another....and it would hurt you too. Killing two birds with one stone she figured and giggled.

She glided up to the roof and went in through a window that was ajar, then followed Garrett's scent to locate his chambers. It was the witching hour and she knew him and his clan would be out getting their dinner. Her plan was to surprise him when he returned, knowing he would be less grumpy on a full stomach which made him more manageable. She also knew he wasn't getting laid and that could also be a bonus for her if she played her cards right.

Raven found his bedroom and walked around studying his belongings. One thing that caught her eye were pictures pinned on the wall that appeared to be Garrett when he was a child. Garrett never spoke of that life to anyone, not even her. He didn't want to remember it so to see that he had photos and kept them out in the open blew her mind. The one with the guitar was interesting because he still played, so that was one thing he carried over with him in his rebirth. He tried to teach her when she was a child but she could never grasp it, nor was that of any interest to her. Back then, he cared about her and she believed he was trying to show her what it was like to be a child and not just a cold blooded killer. That was another thing Garrett took with him, his good heart, which is why he butted heads with her father, Craven, so much.

She then moved on to a bookcase filled with old hardbacks. Garrett used to read to her all the time, which that part stuck with her as she got older, but what else did she have to do while being locked away in Lestat's mausoleum for nine years. She missed those days, when she actually meant something to her G....but that all changed when he met and fell in love with you.

The next thing she saw left her frazzled. On the wall, over his bed was the painting Marius did of him that you asked him to do. She figured Marius must have brought it to Garrett way before the fire ever took place. She couldn't believe her eyes because she was there when Garrett first saw it and his reaction was none other than despair, which was what she had intended to happen. Garrett hated it, so why was it hanging in his bedroom?

As she moved on, boom! She was flung through the air and pinned up against the wall by her neck.

"Well well well, look what the cat dragged in. You are one useless dhampir. You should have smelled me coming. I picked up your foul stench at the bottom of the mountain." Garrett snarked as his eyes burned of fiery lava.

"G...let...me...go..." Raven coughed out as she gasped for air.

"And if I don't? What are you going to do about it? Set me on fire? You wouldn't do that to your good buddy G now would you Clover?"

"Whh...why n..not? You..have no..p..problem choking..m..me all the...f...fucking...time."

Garrett grinned and threw her to the ground.

"Old habits die hard."

"Now..you have three seconds to tell me what the fuck you are doing here before I finish what I started."

Raven cautiously stood up and regrouped herself.

"Jesus G, have you lost every bit of feelings you ever had for me? We used to be so tight."

"Every...single...ounce." he quipped.

"That's just cold."

"And that is what I am, am I not? Cold, dead and heartless....kinda like you." he said in a grizzly tone as he slowly walked towards her.

"No G, you're not! Remember?" she shouted as she became backed against a wall, then played on his human emotions. "This is not you. The real G is not a murderer."

Garrett bellowed in laughter. "Is this really how you are going to try to save your pathetic little life? You know damn well I don't care for you anymore and you also know damn well why. Remember??? I don't kill good people, only bad ones and everyone knows there isn't a good bone in your scrawny body. After what you have done to Josephine, I would snap your neck like a twig and feed you to the wargs piece by piece. or maybe just return you alive back to your ever so loving goblin King."

"NO!....Please...no. I...I can't go back there." Raven whimpered in fear.

Garrett tilted his head. "Well now, this is interesting. The fierce and heartless dhampir is truly scared. Now why would you ever fear Jareth? Tell me, what was your first clue Velma? I mean, you obviously must be blind as a bat to take up with a King who is deader than I'll ever be and by far, more evil than you. Can't get any worse than that."

"This is where Raven knew she had to do something to find Garrett's G spot, per se...his human side.

'Yes it can..." she snapped and ripped her shirt off, then turned her back to him.

Garrett's eyes widened...not from pity, but just plain shock at all the scars on her back.

"Please...please don't make me go back there. This is only one of the disgusting things he has done to me."

"Are you really attempting to make me feel sorry for you? You have brought all of this on yourself. Are you forgetting the disgusting things you do to others?? Karma is the only friend you have and even she hates your fucking guts...and why?? because you're just a shitty ass person with no soul."

Raven dropped to her knees and began to sob.

'Oh please...Get...up! You're making me sick and I just ate."

Raven jumped up and turned to him with her bare breasts in plain view.

"You know what it's like to be scarred! I have seen them! When I was a child...on your chest!" she shouted with a tear streaked face as she pointed at him. "So now who's a shitty person??"

"Don't play this game with me....and do not compare me to you....ever! You see, the difference between you and me on that aspect is that mine came from an accident. What's your excuse?? I'd like to hear how your scars were an accident too!"

"Wellll....um...because...because I conjured Jareth....by ACCIDENT...I...I was trying to stupidly find me a King like......like you."

Garrett stared at her for a few seconds and then burst into laughter. "Yep, karma most certainly and absolutely one hundred and fifty thousand percent hates you."

Raven began to huff through gritted teeth and her eyes glowed orange as she began to shake.

"Stop laughing at me!!!!"

She whipped her arm up and hurled Garrett against the wall.

"Ohhh, you shouldn't have done that." he sneered as he whisked back up, glaring her down, his red eyes now bursting at the seems for her blood.

He too whipped his arm out and sent her catapulting into his night stand, shattering the vase that you had thrown at him while practicing your magic.

Raven was stunned by the blow and Garrett was now beyond livid because he was saving that vase for sentimental reasons.

"Now look what you've gone and made me do!! This ends now!"

He began to grab a dagger to cut her heart out because he truly did not want to taste her wretched blood, when suddenly Raven spoke...but not in her voice....but yours.

"Garrett, it's me! please don't hurt me. You...love me, remember?"

His head spun to her so fast, his neck cracked.

Raven stood up and as she did, she morphed into you.

Garrett stumbled backwards and gasped. "You stop this right now! I know who you are you evil sadistic witch!"

"Well, if you know so much, why are standing there frozen?" she said as she walked towards him seductively, her breasts full and her nipples hard. "It is I...Josephine. Are you blind as a bat?" she giggled. "Garrett....I love you. Don't you love me too?"

"Stop! Don't you say that!" he shouted as he began to tremble.

"Why not? Isn't it what you have longed to hear? I love you Garrett. You are my true King. Take me Garrett, make me your Queen....right now."

Raven now stood before him and took his hand. "Touch me...then you'll know the truth."

She brought his hand up and placed it over her breast. He gasped heavily and couldn't move as his eyes turned to his human blue and filled with tears.

"J...Jos..Josephine?"

"Yes my love. It is me. Make love to me Garrett. I have waited so long for you. I need you. Please Garrett. Kiss me...." she said as she stretched her body up against him, begging for his lips.

He brought his shaking hand up to her cheek, almost afraid to touch her and desperately trying to focus.

"Here...let me help you."

She pulled his head down and planted a passionate kiss on his lips, then slowly slid her tongue into his mouth.

Garrett swiftly pushed her back with remembering eyes. "You....you taste like..."

"Like what baby?" she smiled with your smile.

That did it. He pushed her against the wall and kissed her hard and deep, grinding his full attention cock against her. She lifted her leg up his thigh and he grabbed it, then grabbed her other one and hoisted her up. She wrapped her legs around him and began thrusting against his cock.

"Now Garrett...I want you now!"

She tore at his belt buckle but couldn't get it undone.

"Move." he snapped as he jerked her hands away and aggressively unbuckled his belt. He put her down and yanked her pants to her ankles in which she quickly stepped out of. Garrett then lifted her back up and began slipping his pants down.

"That's it baby...fuck me G..."

Garrett halted as if he had been tased and stared at her, dead in the eyes.....then dropped her.

"You..." he snarled. "You repulsive parasite."

Both of his hands gripped her neck as he slowly lifted her off the ground.

"G...Garrett....n...no....d...don't." she sputtered as she kicked her legs. "It's me. Josephine!"

"Don't you speak her name! First and foremost, she is nothing, NOTHING like this, a bitch in heat....and second, I would never take her in such a manner. I would make LOVE to her."

Raven choked out a laugh. "Is that w...what you're c...calling it..n..now when the mm...manner you t...took her in b...before w..was against her w..will."

Garrett released her in shock of her statement and turned away.

"That...is not how it was!" he barked.

"Oh? Ohhhh, that's right. You poisoned her with your blood and made her want you, so that makes it legit?"

Garrett spun around so fast, Raven screamed and jumped back.

"You mean like you what you were just doing to me?! Poisoning me with your black magic, making me believe you were Josephine??"

"Oh stop being such a big baby G! She is never going to want you. The only way you would ever have her is to do the same thing to her all over again. She will always pine for that perfect King of hers which isn't you. You're nothing like him....but you're just like me. We are kindred spirits, don't you see that by now? I don't judge you like she and her entire little fucking elven clan do, even after what you do to me....I actually love you G!!....and I am here and I want you, no strings attached. Isn't that what you want? To be loved? You'll never be good enough for her and you know it. She will never get over Thranduil and if by any chance in the world, she ever did want you...you would always be second, never first in her heart, even with him dead and gone....she will NEVER love you..."

"Shut up!! Shut your mouth! I would rather live all of eternity than to ever be with you. You don't know a thing about love! In fact, you're not even capable of it. You killed children and have no remorse!! I am just an obsession of yours and you can't stand the fact that I do....not....want...you!!"

"Is that so? Then why is your cock still raging hard and what are you going to do about it? The usual? Rosy palm and her 5 sisters?" She quipped as she grabbed it over his pants. "God, G...just live a little and have some sex, nothing more. It will do you good because you're wound like a fucking top."

His nose was flaring as he breathed like he had ran a mile, then shoved her back against the wall, stripping his pants down.

"This means nothing." he reeled and spun her around so he didn't have to see her face. He spread her legs as she grinned from ear to ear, then thrusted into her.

"Ahhhh yes!!! Yes G....yes!!"

He slammed his hand on the wall and groaned as he slid into her fully, then began pumping her hard and deep, making her pant and scream with every inward stroke.

"That's it G, I...I'm almost there....keep...going..."

Garrett sped up with only the intention of his own release and he certainly wasn't going to do so inside of her. He began to unravel and withdrew before she could climax, expelling his fluid onto the floor as he grunted deeply through every vigorous pulse.

Raven spun around completely dumbfounded. "Garrett what the fuck?? I wasn't done...keep going! I need to finish too!"

"Finish by yourself." he smugly smirked.

"You ASSHOLE!" Raven screamed and whipped him hard across the room into a pillar, knocking him out cold.

She stood over him, glowering down. "I suppose it's better this way because I am sure you would have tried to kill me afterwards anyways....and unfortunately, I do have to go back to hell on earth before Jareth knows I am gone. You'll pay for this G....soon."

She knelt down, kissed his lips, then dressed and took off, purposely leaving something behind.

One thing Garrett wasn't thinking of during his bout of pleasure was the fact of his blood that's in you, which he had reminded you of during his last visit with you. It was how he entered your dream and fended off Jadis....but it also meant you had access to his mind as well....and his thoughts of you had been loud and clear during his play time.

As the sun was rising, you awoke in a panic, calling out only one word.

"Garrett!"

@redeemer46

[awritingcaitlin]

✨Rinnie is a sassy sorceress who doesn't ever want to admit she had feelings ever. But she is also bamf and capable of healing magic, though she'd much rather light stuff on fire.

📙Nathaniel the poor tired grad student who is also a Marine on a mission. He *doesn't* get paid enough for this and just wants that nice peaceful life. It would be such a shame if a war were to happen...

🔪Riela, my knife-wielding barmaid who knows way more about religion than she lets on. She has about 50 million secrets from her past so good luck figuring them all out. But she's also a hopeless romantic who dreams of getting swept off her feet.

🍺Killian, Captain of the Queen's Guard. On a mission to save said dying Queen. Has a YOLO attitude and pulls no punches. He also never seems to sleep for very long.

📘Taryn, Rinnie's bodyguard with benefits. Never actually intended to get feelings. Ended up in way over her head in a few things. Wicked smart and perceptive.

🧪Mica, resident kooky alchemist. Took a cognizance potion that one time and now her brain has filing cabinets inside for all sorts of information. Very good at chemical and alchemical reactions. Escaped from pirates, does *not* want to go home and get married.

🍎 Paul, the soft-spoken Marine who doesn't feel it is appropriate to take on too much responsibility, but will step up should the occasion come up. He grew up on a farm and is an apple cider snob.

🍻 Mama Cass, the wise sage. Older than she looks. Older than seems possible. She knows what kind of drink you want without asking. Unbelievably kind. Seen it all before. Her face holds a smile and doesn't seem to know how to do anything else.

⭐Ilani my beloved oracle. She has visions of the future and knows what will come true. Yet she does not let this hold her back. She is loving and unbelievably patient. She has such a rigid set of morals that has never let her down.

👊 Roderick, the man who punched an admiral and still got a commission. He plays a mean game of Royal Will. Such a strategist. Plays darts when he's thinking.

🧝‍♂️ Kanjo, the character who changed entire arcs with his inclusion. The dirty mage who can brawl with the best then clean up and be a gentleman - sometimes. Perpetually a staff NCO. A realist. Drives fast motorcycles.

🧝‍♀️Kiyo my darling bartender. Who can mix a drink whole only half paying attention. Who can make sushi in her sleep. Who knows that the ocean will take your cares away. Who was creating whirlpools and waterspouts by age twelve. Dirty mage tricks.

🌠Thea. Woman on a mission. Believes she's doing the right thing. Immensely powerful. Older than she looks and she looks immortal. But she has dark secrets no one can know. And she begs forgiveness from the one who does.

🟡Cael. Protector. Warrior. Quiet. He's an incredibly smart tactician. You will never beat him at chess. He's seen it all and more. Will follow those he loves to the death.

🌟Ciara, my darling child. I say, knowing she's in her 30s. Brute force magic. Very powerful. Can weaponize her magic to deadly degrees. No shame. Looks like she can kill you and will actually kill you. Fiercely protective. Loves deeply. Dreams of settling down one day.

🌬️Zeh'ave, the air elemental with amnesia. Does not remember who she was before. Had to learn how to function again and still does not have full control of her powers. Lightning fast with magic, has a strong sense of self preservation.

💙Lily, the kick ass demonic astral. Can shapeshift but prefers her resting form in it's blue, tailed, horned, and hooved glory. Did a huge service to the state when she was younger. Was raised on the streets but knows how to pretend to be proper.

😈Ashora, another kick ass demonic astral. Lives as a mercenary. Styles her hair around her horns. Super strong, super fast. Loves the adventure.

🔫Cami, the prisoner. Currently in a high security prison for her supposed safety because no one knows what to do about the fact that she's possessed by a dragon.

⚕️Aravae, the doctor who has learned to play ruthless political games in order to survive. She knows the ins and outs of political, legal, and medical spheres. Looks like a cinnamon roll, probably won't kill you. Hates direct confrontation. Will end the fight.

👧🏾Janna, sweet Janna. Giggly and boisterous. Just wants to set herself apart from her large family. Always kind, very perceptive.

👦🏽 Adrian, the quiet cook. Young and wide eyed. Dreams of a better future. Bakes really good bread. Saving up money for someone special.

🧒🏼Sean, the even quieter waiter. Works the graveyard shift. His day starts around noon and he goes straight from closing up the tavern to the fish market to buy fish for the next day. Lives at the tavern though, so it makes it easier.

[notroosterbradshaw]

Get up, A. I've got some fic to catch (and make up) for:

maybe flirting one of the many tag chasers that frequented the Hard Deck.

Bradley Bradshaw, ladies and gentlemen.

The woman that he has spent the last three months trying to get over.

Oh, Bradley. I’m just sitting here judging him like the ruthless love of my life that he is.

He was just boring as fuck. 

How Bradley is well aware he’s the sexiest mf’er in the room. And nobody can deny 🎶

Politely chuckling with Zach fucking Collins instead of unabashedly laughing with him. 

Zach fucking Collins needs to be seen to as per DM.

“Wait, what?” he asks settling a hand on your waist to turn you towards him. He genuinely had no clue where you’d gotten that from, “I didn’t want to break up.”

Oh dear. This can only end… sexy.

You look so hurt, and all he wants to do is pull you to his chest. 

Don’t think, do!

“It doesn’t matter now. What’s done is done,” you tell him quietly as you walk back to Collins where he was still wrapped up in whatever small talk Nat had been forcing on him.

“The hell it is,” he says to himself, resolve firm in his chest. 

Get her, Bradley. Something tells me… he may not have to work very hard.

You hadn’t been back to the Hard Deck since you ended things with Bradley.

Reminding EVERYONE, nothing good happens here.

And god, you feel terrible about thinking about him like that when you’re literally on a date with another man. But not guilty enough to stop yourself from checking him out every chance you got.

Not a date, just a placeholder.

Concern turned into flirting, “you’re too pretty for a concussion” he’d told you. While the line was cheesy, the snug denim shorts he was wearing were decidedly not. And then flirting turned into an invitation to meet up later that day where he could properly apologize in the form of a great night out and drinks on him. 

An ode to jorts.

There was no way you could ever forget the way he had worked you with his fingers in his Bronco parked at a scenic viewpoint along the coast. How it felt to writhe on his lap with your dress rucked up your thighs as he rasped dirty praise in your ear. 

It would be impossible, impossible to forget!

“Baby, Collins is as bland as that gluten free bread you keep trying to trick yourself into liking.”

Howling, howling, Alexa! You know I love a good one liner and jfc, this has me pinned up against a wall, gagging for air.

“Biblically,” you hear him huff under his breath, for your ears only.

Cackling still. I will never not love unexpected humour amidst drama.

“Well, the dart board is finally open. How about we play couple rounds?” Zach suggests, settling his hand on your shoulder.  

Oh, this poor boy and his reality check. Completely oblivious.

Having been banished by Jake for being “pathetically sulky”, he was sitting at the bar by himself staring into his untouched Old Fashioned. Which worked just fine for him, he wasn’t in the mood to be around anyone other than you.

When the captain of the sook brigade calls you out, you must be showing how bad you’re doing haha

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees you turning down the hallway towards the bathrooms, and he struck with another bad idea. Probably the worst one of the night. 

The timing as this song just starts on the telly. Oh, the tension as it mounts. This fic is building PERFECTLY remembering i've been reading this over many disrupted hours.

“I’m the only one who gets to see these on you,” he growls as he pulls out his hand to yank down your zipper.

Contentious as it was date three with fucking Collins?! Begs for extra drama gotta say.

You look like you’ve been fucked.

As it should be frankly.

“You owe me a favor,” she says pointing at him, before turning that finger on you, “And you, owe me brunch. Preferably with bottomless mimosas. Because I just saved both your asses from getting caught by Penny. And now I owe Jake a favor. So, you owe me big time.” She gives you both a knowing look before walking away.

God’s work, Phoenix. As always. Saving her men… or finding ways to destroy them later.

Per-fucking-fection.

Bad Idea

Summary: After being deployed, all Bradley wanted was to have a fun night out with his friends and let loose. That is until he sees the woman who broke up with him, who he still isn’t over.  At his bar. With another man. And then he is in the mood to make some bad decisions. 

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Female Reader

Warnings: mutual pining, a little angst, smuttt. Minors DNI

Length: 6.3K

After being deployed for three months, Bradley had been looking forward to getting off that carrier and having a night out with his friends. Having a couple more beers than he should, kicking Hangman’s ass at pool, maybe flirting one of the many tag chasers that frequented the Hard Deck.

He wants to let loose a bit. Just for a while. 

The team is scattered around the bar. Some are hovering around the pool table, a few others hogging the dart board. He’s seated at one of the stools around the pool table, half listening to Fanboy recount some of his amusing antics during basic flight training in between lining up his shots, when he feels Phoenix nudge his arm to get his attention.

“Oh shit, is that…” she starts and trails off. 

He turns around in his seat expecting to find some friend from a former squadron or someone they went to TOPGUN with, and instead he sees you. 

The woman that he has spent the last three months trying to get over.

And you’re here in front of him looking entirely too comfortable with another man.

Keep reading

[shedreamsofstars]

darts, drinks and dirty tricks

It’s games night in East City, and Jean Havoc has a plan. Not only will he win the evening’s betting pool, but he’ll also have the satisfaction of pulling a fast one over on Lieutenant Hawkeye to claim the position of best sharpshooter for the night.

Dangerous territory? Absolutely. Provided he succeeds that is.

Colonel Roy Mustang however has no plans to let his subordinate steal his First Lieutenant’s sharpshooting crown right off her pretty little head. At least, not without throwing a dirty trick of his own into the mix.

... xxx ...

It was a typically warm and humid East City evening as Colonel Mustang stood up at his desk, his hair a mess of dark strands that perfectly complemented the tired expression on his face.

By any outside account, it would seem as if he had just finished up a long hard day of rigorous paperwork, when the reality was much closer to him having just woken up from an impromptu two-hour nap.

“Well,” Roy said brightly, stretching his arms above his head before retaking his seat. “I don’t know about you guys, but after the day I’ve had, I am in dire need of a drink to unwind.”

There was a general murmur of agreement from his subordinates. “Isn’t it games night?” Falman piped up, poking his head over the large stack of papers in front of him.

“It sure is. So … what are we betting on tonight?”

His First Lieutenant stood attentive to his right, and although she might have been out of his direct line of sight, Roy could already feel her rolling her eyes at him and he sunk further into his seat in satisfaction.

Despite her obvious distaste of gambling, Riza Hawkeye was content to let the boys throw their money at each other so long as they kept her out of it - which they almost never did.

The Colonel eyed the members of his team sprawled haphazardly across their desks with a level look. “I believe it’s your turn to choose the evening’s entertainment Fuery,” he said eventually, turning towards the baby-faced Sergeant and raising an expectant brow.

Cain Fuery squirmed under the Colonel’s gaze, as he was prone to do when put on the spot, and Roy could almost see the different options for the night flashing in his glasses. After an impatient sigh from somewhere across the room, most likely Breda, the Master Sergeant’s face lit up.

“How about a game of darts, Sir?”

Falman and Breda groaned collectively, both notoriously terrible shots, but one sharp look from the First Lieutenant was enough to have them commending the Master Sergeant with an appreciation bordering on grovelling.

It was amusing to say the least, but Roy found his gaze drawn to the corner desk where his Second Lieutenant, Jean Havoc, sat chewing his cigarette with a conniving smirk plastered on his face.

“Darts, huh,” he mused softly, clearly conjuring up some sort of plan in that uniquely chaotic mind of his. Roy couldn’t be sure what his subordinate was thinking, but he had the odd feeling that it had something to do with the nights betting pool.

If he let Havoc have his way, he was fairly certain the sharpshooter would be reigning victorious at the end of the night.

Roy didn’t like the thought of that one bit. And not only because his underling would lord it over them for weeks. He glanced sidelong at Hawkeye, their reigning champion, and his brows furrowed.

Before he could let himself dwell on the feeling, Roy forced himself to stand. “Well, now that that’s settled,” he started with a clap, itching to leave the musty office for somewhere livelier. “Who’s driving?”

The military car rattled noisily as Havoc sped through the busy Friday night traffic, the First Lieutenant sitting in the passenger seat whilst the other four piled into the back.

Whenever he was in charge of driving, Hawkeye refused to sit anywhere other than beside him – likely so she could yell at him whenever his irresponsible driving endangered others, which he had to admit was more often than not.

As he caught sight of the woman’s stony expression, it seemed today was no different.

So far he’d already been berated twice for manoeuvring the vehicle too close to pedestrians, and he only grinned widely as he corrected his steering. He took it all in his stride, but even with someone keeping an eye on him, Havoc’s driving was still borderline reckless.

The team arrived at their local bar in record time, much to the First Lieutenants dismay. Havoc parked up on a quiet road beside the establishment, patting himself on the back for fitting the car into such a tight spot. He frowned at the dark heavy clouds hovering above them for a moment before joining the others as they filed into the building.

The group grabbed their preferred drinks, Hawkeye sticking with a lemon water, before congregating on the sofas towards the back, set out beside an old dart board nailed precariously to the wall.

"What are we playing again?” Havoc asked, shedding as much of his uniform as was appropriate in a public setting before taking a seat, leaving him in a tight black tee and his standard issue trousers.

“Six-oh-one, straight in" Fuery clarified.

“Sweet,” he murmured, turning to see the Colonel watching him with a peculiar expression. “What’s up boss, worried I’m gonna beat you?”

Mustang shrugged his shoulders half-heartedly before draping himself over the sofa. “Not one bit Havoc. You’re all going down anyway.”

“Fighting words,” he said with a low whistle. “You can’t snap your way to victory tonight. You sure you wanna subject yourself to the embarrassment of losing to one of your own sharpshooters?” Havoc joked, flashing his own skill set before his superior.

“I don’t recall ever mentioning myself,” Roy said smugly. “My money’s on Hawkeye,” he said, garnering a disappointed shake of the head from the woman in question.

“Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure about her winning,” Havoc taunted. “What about you boys?”

Breda went with Hawkeye and Fuery with Mustang, whilst Havoc managed to convince Falman to go with him. He wouldn’t mind splitting the winnings in the end if it meant he had someone’s confidence.

With the bets placed, the games began.

One by one, the team started several rounds of Fuery’s chosen game. Some time and several drinks later, Mustang collapsed onto the sofa beside Havoc with a pout.

“It would seem that Hawkeye remains the undefeated champion,” he said, clearly sulking at having been obliterated by the woman. "You're gonna need all the luck you can muster if you think you can take her on."

Havoc grinned at his superior. From the Colonels reaction, you wouldn’t think the guy had money riding on Hawkeye’s victory.

“Don’t worry about me, Sir. I’ve been watching her play all night, and I’m pretty sure I’ve figured out a strategy to take down the Hawk’s Eye.”

"Oh really?" Mustang asked, an eyebrow raised in clear amusement. "And how exactly do you plan on defeating my First Lieutenant?"

Havoc sat up a little, chewing at the end of his unlit cigarette. “The trick is to get under your opponents’ skin,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Oh, is that all,” Mustang scoffed, his dark eyes drifting over where Hawkeye and Fuery were clearing the board for the next game. Of them all, Mustang knew the First Lieutenant the best, so he had good reason to believe that Havoc had no clue what he was doing.

But Havoc had known and observed the woman long enough to have an idea of things that would likely affect her in some way. And he only needed something to work once.

“That is all. Wish me luck Boss,” he said, stashing his cigarette into his pocket as he stood and waved towards the two members still at the dart board. “Alright, I’m up next Hawkeye!” he called, grabbing some spare darts off of Falman before joining them.

Hawkeye nodded to Havoc in a friendly manner as she rolled her own darts along her fingers. “After you, Second Lieutenant.”

“Are you ever gonna call me Jean?” Havoc grinned as he stepped up to the firing spot. When she didn’t respond, he merely shrugged and fired off his shot without warning. He smiled smugly as his dart scored him a triple twenty.

He vacated the space, using both hands to welcome his opponent up to the spot. He watched with eager eyes as Riza Hawkeye threw the first of her darts with all the aim and precision to be expected of the Hawk’s Eye and bagged herself a matching triple twenty, just as Havoc had expected.

“Would you look at that Hawkeye. It seems we’ve got the same game plan here.”

“I don’t think so Second Lieutenant. Mine ends with me winning,” she said plainly as the others hooted behind them.

Havoc worked his jaw with a grimace. “Well, then I guess it’s time to shake things up,” he said, flexing his fingers as he readied himself for the next shot. The game was on.

With a soft breath, he released his dart and it landed with a sharp thump on the dartboard.

He grinned widely at Hawkeye, totalling his current score before stepping aside to make room for her. As the woman raised her arm to fire, Havoc casually stepped towards her.

“Hey Hawkeye, you know your hair would look beautiful if you were to wear it down from time to time,” he said, voice low so only she could hear. He wore his best flirty pout, but from the sidelong glance she flashed him, she’d already clocked he was attempting to goad her.

She let off her shot without a single hitch, watching with narrowed eyes as it arced through the air and slammed onto the board, exactly where Havoc’s had landed. From the small smile she flashed at him, his words had had no effect – her shot had still hit exactly where she’d intended.

Shaking off his first failed attempt at distracting her, Havoc took another shot. He’d have to try harder to get to her next time.

When she got ready to fire again, Havoc talked about how mysterious she was, and that half the bar couldn’t help but stare at her - all stuff in his arsenal that would usually have girls swooning at him – but it had no effect on his colleague. Hawkeye only looked him dead in the eye as she fired, equalling the score between them with minimal effort for a second time.

As Havoc’s jaw hit the ground, the woman merely smirked at him. “You're gonna have to try harder than that Second Lieutenant.”

Havoc bit the inside of his cheek. If he played his shots right, he could win the game in two shots, but not if she kept matching him dart for dart. He had to get both shots perfect and get her to throw at least one, otherwise the night was done.

Glancing back at the sofa, he saw the team watching the two of them. Falman and Fuery gave him a thumbs up as he went to throw, whilst Breda gave the slightly more appreciated middle finger. Havoc couldn’t help but notice that Mustang wasn’t looking at him at all. The man’s gaze seemed to be stuck somewhere to his right where …

He hid his grin behind his hand as he spun to face the dart board again. It seemed like he’d found himself a trump card after all.

His threw his shot, and whilst Hawkeye was lining up her own, he took the opportunity to lean in towards her. She threw him a confused glance as he remained silent, but he knew that his timing had to be just right.

He waited patiently for her to pull the shot back, and right as she was about to release it, he struck.

“Say, how long have you and Mustang been together?”

He knew he had her under his thumb the minute her eyes widened in surprise, disrupting her focus enough that her hand slipped and messed with her aim. The dart he knew would have otherwise landed on the same spot as his own flew through the air wildly and landed on the outer edge of the board, giving him the edge he needed to win.

"Oohoo, Lieutenant,” he taunted. “What a shot!" he said, hopping in the spot with glee. A part of him couldn’t quite believe that his plan had even worked at all, and it became even more unbelievable when Hawkeye turned to him with a look of pure annoyance on that usually blank face of hers.

“The Colonel and I aren’t together.”

Havoc whistled low. "I only meant to ask how long you two have known each other Hawkeye. No need to get all worked up over it." He clicked his tongue softly and the First Lieutenant gave him a dark look, warning him against his next words.

He bit his tongue and Hawkeye simply sighed, blowing her hair out of her face before giving up the firing position. As Havoc took up the mantle to shoot, he knew he would have to get the shot perfect.

He knew his limits and getting this far on Riza Hawkeye’s bad side was more than enough for him to handle. Any more and it would definitely not be worth the payoff.

Her reaction at least confirmed something Havoc thought to himself, although he was too focused on winning the game to quite place what it was. As he lifted up his dart to his line of sight, he couldn’t help but give one final retort, knowing that this would be the final shot that brought him victory.

“Thank you Lieutenant. I believe you’ve just given me a solid win over almost everyone behind us,” he said loudly, his gaze drifting to the sofa. Everyone was watching him with bated breath, but he couldn’t help but notice that Mustang was the only one frowning.

Was he really that mad at losing the pool?

Havoc shook off the thought. “One bulls eye coming up,” he stated, making sure to aim for the fifty points that would bring his score down to zero.

Any higher or lower and the game was forfeit.

If he went too high he'd lose by default and going too low would give Hawkeye the chance to match his score again and end the game in a tie. He'd distracted her once tonight already, and he highly doubted she'd fall for it again. Besides, he already knew she'd find some way to get back at him for his words earlier and he was reluctant to dig himself in deeper.

Steadying his nerves and shaking hand, he pulled back to fire when he heard an unexpected name from his side.

“Catalina, what in god’s name are you wearing?!”

Havoc couldn’t help it. Even though he knew not to trust anything Mustang said at any point in the game, he turned without thought to see where the man was looking. The dart flew out of his hands without aim and he turned back just in time to see it veering off course and lodging into a wooden beam in the wall.

Fuck.

Damn that Mustang, he groaned internally. And damn that Catalina too, this was all her fault after all. He turned back to the bar behind him to scan the faces around them and berate her, but no matter how hard he looked, he couldn’t see Rebecca anywhere.

So what exactly had the Colonel-

It took one look at the man’s half hidden smirk for Havoc to know what was up. It seemed he wasn’t the only one playing dirty to win tonight. Hawkeye was too proper to fight fire with fire, but it seemed their superior had no such qualms.

Fuck.

He knew even before the First Lieutenant stood to take her next shot that the game was over. Having gained no points this round, she would easily knock her score to zero in the next round and tie with him.

Having already given up, Havoc fired half-heartedly during his next turn and barely hit the board, his score still too high to win. When Hawkeye got the bullseye she needed to hit zero, he heard the sofa behind him, who had all been holding their breath in anticipation, burst into life.

Havoc clicked his tongue in defeat, pulling out his cigarette as Fuery and Falman burst into celebratory whoops – he didn’t know why either of them were so excited since neither of them had placed their bets on Hawkeye, but who was he to judge.

A win was a win after all.

When Fuery thrust Hawkeyes hand in the air and named her the reigning champion, Havoc knew he’d need several drinks to take away the sharp sting of defeat. How did he play dirty, come so close, and then still end up losing?

It was embarrassing when he thought about it.

As he passed by the sofa on his way to the bar, the Colonel caught his eye with a smug smile. Havoc continued walking right past him without commenting on it. He was much too sober to be engaging in a dispute with his superior officer, that was for sure.

The rain splashed against the windows of the car with a rhythmic drumming, accompanied by the occasional swish of the wipers as Riza drove to the East City Barracks – the others having been too inebriated to even attempt to get behind the wheel.

Sergeant Fuery had called shotgun, and within seconds of sitting down, had proceeded to fall asleep against the door and add his light snores to the already loud weather outside.

Behind her, she could hear the other four bickering about their winnings, or losings, for the night. Well, Havoc seemed to be the only one bickering, the others were either gloating or attempting to keep from falling asleep.

“You know what I don’t even care anymore,” Havoc slurred, having attempted to drown his loss with his cup. “I had that win in that bag till you threw me off at the end. Why’d you do it Boss. Is it cause you really do have a thing for Hawkeye, huh?”

Riza tried her hardest to keep her eyes on the road, but she couldn’t resist peeking at rear-view mirror. Havoc was staring at their superior with a narrowed gaze, half leaning over the top of Falman who looked half a second away from passing out.

The Colonel’s face was blank and unreadable. He said nothing, responding only by lifting a wad of cash out from his pocket and waving it at Havoc in answer. The Second Lieutenant had the gall to look disappointed as his head bounced between Breda and Mustang, the two winners of the night, and she shook her head softly as she returned her eyes to the road.

The back of the car fell silent not long after, and Riza got the distinct impression that it was because they’d all fallen asleep. But when she glanced behind to confirm, she was met with a pair of dark eyes that watched her with an intense look.

The Colonel’s lips quirked into a little smile as she caught him, but he didn’t look away. Her gaze flitted between the road and the mirror, but his eyes remained on her up until the moment the car came to a halt and the others began to stir.

The group fell out of the car and straight into the dreary late night, with not a single one of them prepared enough to have brought along an umbrella. They shivered as the cold rain washed away their sleepiness, bidding their farewells as quickly as possible before beginning the short run to their barracks.

Mustang however hung back. Riza could feel his gaze on her as she locked up the car, and he fell into step with her as she began to walk.

“You didn’t have to wait for me Colonel. We’re headed in different directions,” she pointed out.

Mustang merely shrugged. His hair was already so soaked with rainwater that it clung to his forehead, and Riza had no doubt that her own was doing something similar. Although, she wasn’t the one with the aversion to water.

They walked together in silence, pausing at the edge of the street where they would part ways. She was about to wish him a goodnight when his hand landed firmly on her shoulder, keeping her from leaving.

“Hang on a second Lieutenant,” he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the wad of cash he’d waved at Havoc earlier. “Your winnings for the night.”

“I didn’t join the bet, Sir,” she clarified, refusing the money.

“Yeah, but I figure since you’re the only reason I won you should get a cut. You could buy yourself some nice flowers or something.”

“No thank you, Sir. It’s yours, you should spend it on whatever you like.”

“Can I spend it on flowers for you?”

“Roy, no,” she retorted. “I mean, Sir.”

Riza’s face burned hot at the momentary slip, but her superior officer barely seemed to care. As she looked up at him through her lashes, she saw him pouting like a child as he replaced the money in his coat pocket.

He turned to her with a sigh. “I suppose you’ll be going now.”

“Yes. Good night, Colonel.”

Mustang gave her a curt nod, but the smile that accompanied it made her dread having to answer the door in the morning for fear of drowning in blooms. She really hoped he wasn’t being serious about the flowers.

“Good night, Riza.”

...xxx...

thank you so much for reading! please excuse the terrible title, i have no brain power left to think of anything good lol. i've been trying to write this since 2017 and it's finally done! i still know next to nothing about darts though. thanks again, and i'd love to know your thoughts if you have the time x

[spinningwebsandtales]

Imagine Getting Close to Ban After He Protects You

Ban X FemReader

Rating: T+

Warnings: Suggestive themes, drinking, bar fight, mentions of blood

Word Count: 2,127

(A/N:) I just absolutely adore Ban and I’m jealous of Elaine. I just read The Seven Deadly Sins Seven Days manga and it inspired me to write more Ban. Cause he’s my favorite character and he’s just so dang adorable and ridiculously hot. Manga/Anime it doesn’t matter I just love him so I want to write more with Ban. I have another idea I’m going to write as well but this one just hasn’t been leaving me alone for awhile, so I’m needing to get it out before it drives me crazy. So enjoy my fellow Ban fangirls (you have good taste) and until next time happy reading! ~Countess

Ban had forgotten what it was like as a free man after all those years of imprisonment and execution attempts. Now as Meliodas allowed him to roam free for just a little while, before it was time to leave, he found himself drinking himself into a stupor. Nothing like spending time in a tavern draining them of all their ale and tricking some poor idiot to pay for it all. He chuckled at himself emptying another mug before demanding another. While he drank he noticed how cute one of the waitresses was as she was darting around the tavern. He decided that drinking was more important than flirting and before he knew it he was conked out, feet up on the table, and head back releasing deafening snores from his opened mouth.

You decided long ago that this was not the job you would have chosen as a profession. Unfortunately as your family were in a large hole of debt, you along with your siblings were sent out to find work. Being one of the younger ones of your family it was hard finding a job until the owner of the local tavern took pity upon you and hired you. Now you were serving ale to the town’s farmers and unfortunately the dregs that enjoyed cheap booze and entertainment. Though most of their entertainment was harassing the young waitress bustling around. But tonight the unruly patrons seemed worse than ever. You couldn’t pass by the table without one of them grabbing your rear or making inappropriate passes.

 You almost spilled your tray several times and you could have sworn you heard a stitch in your uniform tear. Normally you would knock them out with your metal tray but you couldn’t afford to be fired, your family needed your help. But you couldn’t help but hate being harassed every night. The other girls that worked would mainly grin and bear it and you’d even seen some of them leave with their teasers at the end of their shifts. Now as your shift was winding down you were clearing the sleeping man’s table of the empty mugs. Since he was asleep you allowed yourself to take in his looks, and while you were used to the normal dirty and grim covered men this one was the cleanest you’d ever seen. His long lanky but muscular body proudly on display from the too small shirt and pants that hung dangerously low on sharp well formed hips. His long legs hung on the table and despite his closed eyes you could tell he would have a sharp gaze. Curiosity got the better of you when you noticed that his hair was a pretty pale blue and you got too close causing him to snort and eyes crack open before his eyes closed again, falling back to sleep with more obnoxious snores filling the room.

 You released the breath you had been holding and began to take the used mugs back to the counter to be washed. Once again you had to pass the table filled with men who had grabbed you all evening, and in similar fashion you were grabbed once more but this time you were yanked off your feet into one of their laps. The mugs clattered to the floor loudly and you struggled against the grip around your waist. Putrid stale ale breath brushed against your bare neck and you shivered.

“Let me go,” you yelled kicking and raking at the rough fingers holding on tightly.

“Easy now,” the man slurred. “There’s no need to fight. You’ve been so busy bustling back and forth I just thought you could use a little break. Take a load off and sit here on my lap.”

“No thank you,” you replied icily. “My shift is almost over I can rest at home but right now I’m working.”

“Oh so you’ll be done soon will you,” he chuckled causing the others at the table to laugh along. Their lecherous gazes making you squirm more.

“I’m not interested,” you snarled getting angry.

“Hey,” the owner behind the bar saw your predicament, “please don’t bother my wait staff.”

“Don’t worry,” your capture replied still refusing to budge, “she’s fine with it.”

“I am not!”

“Stop fighting me,” the drunk growled.

“Then stop touching me,” you snapped.

Before you could really give him what for a large hand grasped the drunk’s wrist squeezing tightly causing him to release you and you were whipped away and pressed into a tall lanky side.

“Hey creep,” the once sleeping man was now wide awake and angry. “She said knock it off or are ya deaf?”

“This doesn’t concern you,” the groper roared rising up from the table so fast he sent his chair flying backwards.

“It does when someone doesn’t know the word no,” your protector scoffed. “I mean I’ve been a piece a crap most of my years but I don’t go around grabbing women to get my kicks.” The pale blue haired man looked down at you giving you a pleasant smile and a quick wink. “Now I just got out of jail a few hours ago but I don’t mind going back if it means I get to have some fun beforehand.” He put a hand on your shoulder pushing you behind his form when the drunken man stepped towards you again. “Name’s Ban,” he whispered to you before focusing back on the threat.

“Thank you Ban,” you replied making your getaway outside. As soon as the door slammed behind you the inside of the tavern erupted into yells, curses, and breaking glass. You should of ran home but the thought of the guy rescuing you either hurt or possibly bleeding to death inside rooted you to the spot. It was only when the sounds had eased did you decide to go back in when the front door burst open. A booted foot retracted inside before long legs came through. Ban looked around wiping his hands and a bloodstain on his cheek.

  “Ahh,” he stretched then yawned. “Nothing like a brawl after getting bailed out of prison.” He looked around and spotted you hiding in the darkness. “Hey! You still here?”

“Yeah,” you mumbled nervously. “I was worried you got hurt.”

Ban laughed stepping closer. He was intimidating just from his height alone. “Don’t worry about me cutie. I’m not called undead for nothing.”

“Thank you again I was getting tired of them grabbing me,” you glared at the side of the tavern.

“I can imagine. If you want,” Ban started putting his hands in his pockets awkwardly, “I can walk you home?”

You nodded, “I’d like that.”

That was the night that started you and Ban’s friendship. Now he was always waiting outside when you got off work so he could make sure you made it home safely, or he was inside sometimes drinking himself into a stupor. He always tried the different ales available, you even spotted him gingerly taking the labels off the bottles and pasting them into a tattered book. You were curious but he always shut it quickly when he spotted you staring. Now a week had gone by and Ban was getting antsy. He said his new boss was wanting to move out soon and it sounded like tonight was going to be your last night to spend together. You asked to get off early and despite the protests from your boss, the other waitresses promised to take up the slack from your absence. You nodded at the girls thanking them silently before stepping out into the night. Fireflies danced in the shadows and there stood Ban, hands in his pockets and a cocky grin on his face.

“Ban,” you raced over jumping into his arms.

“Do you gotta greet me like that every time?” He laughed spinning you around. “You see me everyday.”

“I thought you liked it,” you pouted.

Ban chuckled patting your head, “I do. I’m not complainin’.”

“So I guess you’re going to be leaving soon,” you said your expression falling. You hadn’t known him for very long but he had become a bright light in your life. Everything had begun to revolve around Ban, he was kicked out of all the places in the village (except the tavern you worked at) but he was actually one of the sweetest people you had ever met. Despite his strength and attitude he was just misunderstood.

“Yeah,” he agreed also seeming sad. While he made a difference for you, you didn’t realize how much of a difference you had made on him. “So I was thinking we should have all the fun we can before my Captain gets back.”

“What did you have in mind,” suddenly curious but also cautious.

“Mostly swimming,” he stated.

“Swimming?”

“Yeah,” he yelled grabbing onto your arm and dragging you behind him. Your shorter legs struggling to keep up. “Last one in is a rotten egg!”

You laughed but tried to tug away, “It’s night time Ban! Why are we going swimming?!”

“Because swimming in fun!”

You rolled your eyes but started to panic when the local swimming hole was just feet away. Ban released you to start tugging off his clothes. You squeaked hiding your eyes before hearing a big splash.

“You can look,” Ban called. “I left some on.”

“I’m not getting wet,” you said before stubbornly stopping at the bank. “This is ridiculous!”

Ban splashed water in your direction causing you to scream and jump away. You tried to not look at the water droplets making their way down his well chiseled form as the moonlight shown off his wet hair.

  “Missed me,” you laughed sticking out your tongue. Ban growled sending more water your way where you once again dodged. He grew more annoyed the more you stubbornly refused to join him. He was leaving and you were being a brat. Finally having enough he caught you off guard, interlacing your fingers together and tugging you to him. He held you close before throwing you into the water with a mighty splash. You came up spitting water and a deathly glare in your eyes.

“You jerk!”

Ban laughed swimming out towards you, “Should have just gave in.”

You both swam around, chasing and splashing while the crickets sang a soft tune. You were getting tired since your dress was heavy. Not the best swimming attire but you refused to strip down like Ban did. He held his arms out towards you. You immediately took the offer letting him hold you up while you rested. You panted holding tightly to the man who had flipped everything upside down. But now as you looked at the moon you didn’t realize how intensely he was watching you. It wasn’t until he nibbled at your exposed neck before you jerked at the attention.

“Ban,” you whispered. “What are you doing?”

“Sorry,” he said pulling away. “I couldn’t help it. I haven’t felt this way in awhile.” You shivered and it wasn’t from the breeze hitting your wet clothes. “It’s okay.” Now he looked shocked and you nodded giving him permission. His mouth on yours in an instant. He was all teeth and tongue, exploring everything while you buried your hands in his hair. You had never felt attractive, you were so much different than the other girls in the village and all the boys never seemed to pay you any attention. But Ban was looking at you, kissing you, like you were the only girl that he ever laid eyes on. He parted from you, giving reprieve to gain air back in your lungs. He was swimming you both back to shore where he laid you down on the sand, his larger form looming over you.

“I don’t want to leave,” he whined while brushing a soaked lock of hair from your face. “I don’t want to leave you.”

“Can you stay,” you asked cupping his cheeks.

He shook his head and you could have sworn you had seen tears in the corners of his eyes. “No.”

“Can I go,” you tried again clinging to him.

“It’s too dangerous.”

“But Ban,” you pleaded.

Once again he shook his head but this time he kissed you again passionately. “I’m sorry. I don’t regret meeting you and all this time together.”

“I don’t either,” you agreed clinging him tightly, willing him to stay. “Thank you for protecting me while you were here.”

He chuckled bitterly, “I’d do it all again though leaving hurts.”

“I would too,” you agreed. He helped you off the ground wrapping his arms around you before picking up his discarded clothes. While the bugs sang, toads croaked, and the moon lit the path, Ban walked you home one last time.

[zoeykallus]

Clones asking you for a date (approaching you) at the 79's:

Some Of Our Favorite Clones x Reader (pick up at 79')

Warnings: Partly slightly suggestive

Rex: creeps around you for quite a while and doesn't quite know how to address you.... When he finally does, he is prepared, well dressed, has used aftershave and has some pick up lines ready. But when he approaches you and you look up to him, his head is completely empty. He can't think of any of the cool phrases he had ready and just stares at you for a moment. Finally, however, he decides on a simple variant and asks you outright: "May I invite you to dinner?"

Fives: sees you, knows immediately he wants you and goes straight to you. He is not shy, maybe still a little nervous, because he finds you just insanely awesome, but he walks towards you with a disarming smile that you can hardly resist from the get-go.

"Hello beauty? Can I buy you a drink? By the way, a no is not acceptable" He is also one of those who are most likely to kiss you on the first night. Depending on what signals you give him, you can also expect more.

Wolffe: takes his time, watching you from a distance for quite a while, almost a bit like a stalker, maybe even for several days. He proceeds methodically, noting which drinks you like, who you talk to and to which music you tap your foot or maybe even go on the dance floor. Finally, he asks the DJ for one of the songs you like, sits down next to you at the bar and simply orders you one of your favorite drinks without being asked. "I'm Wolffee. What's your name?"

Cody: is actually not necessarily shy but unexpectedly awkward. He speaks directly to you, gets flustered with his words, laughs nervously and hopes you won't be put off by it. He makes a joke or two, finally introduces himself and asks for your name. "Y/N, would you go out with me?"

Hunter: tries to approach the matter calmly and serenely, which also works quite well, until you look at him with a flash of your eyes and he starts to sweat. You make him nervous, his senses are flooded by your wonderful scent, the tender sound of your heartbeat and the irresistible smile on your lips. He would love to just kiss you, but he pulls himself together. Should you be so bold and brave to leave the 79's with him this evening, and get involved with him, you can prepare yourself for a hot evening.

Crosshair: knows what he wants and that is you. He makes no secret of it and addresses you directly. He is very direct and now it depends on you. Whether you react shyly at first or go straight for it, as long as you don't reject him outright, sooner or later that night you'll be sitting in a separee, his hand in your panties heating you up and his mouth on your ear whispering dirty, sweet little nothings to you. One of the things he'll whisper to you will be a description of how he wants to drive you crazy in the sheets.

Tech: is initially overwhelmed and tries to proceed methodically, similar to Wolffee. However, he turns around several times and changes his mind when he tries to approach you. You will notice sooner or later and when you do, you should take the lead because Tech is just too shy and insecure. But as soon as you ask if you can sit at his table and engage him in conversation, he will open up and enjoy your company. Finally he asks you for a date, because now he knows that you obviously like him too.

Echo: he is very reserved. Seeks your proximity, but does not address you for a long time. At some point he casually engages you in conversation, he is so incredibly nice, sweet and a total gentleman. You talk for hours, the whole evening and when it's time to say goodbye, he finally comes out with "I had a great evening and would like to repeat that. Maybe we'll go out sometime?" Clever Boy.

Wrecker: is not really shy but similarly awkward as Cody. However, he is more playful, manages to engage you in conversation by showing you little tricks with his beverage cup, inviting you to play darts and accidentally splitting the dartboard with a too hard throw. The whole evening is playful and funny. The question if you want to go out with him he just throws in between, almost casually, that doesn't mean he doesn't care, not at all, that's just his chaotic way. You have fun, he paid attention to that and that you are safe. With him at your side, no one dares to approach you indecently anyway.

Hardcase: is so confident that it's actually almost annoying. He just walks up to you, puts an arm around your shoulder and says, "Hey beauty, doing okay?"

There are only two options, respond positively or blow him off right away. But as soon as you react positively you won't be able to get rid of him for the rest of the evening, as well as every other night he sees you at 79's.

[scuttling]

If I Should Linger

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 6,979 (what is wrong with me??) Tags: 18+, NSFW, Best Friend's Dad Hotch, Confident reader, Flirting, Oral sex, Protected sex, Dirty talk, A little angst with a happy ending Summary: Your best friend stands you up at the bar, but it actually turns into the best night you've had in a long time—maybe the best night of your life. Unfortunately, things don't stay uncomplicated for long... *Requested by @hotforhotchner11 Link to A03 or read below! “I can’t believe you stood me up to have sex with a frat boy,” you hiss into your phone from your seat at the bar. Your best friend Julie—better known as Jay—is on the other end, and she’s completely ruining your plans for the evening at later than the last minute. She’s never on time for anything.

“He’s not a frat boy… yet. He’s rushing.” You pick up your gin and tonic to take a sip, but her comment makes you pause.

“He’s rushing? How old is he?” The breath she blows out before she answers tells you everything you need to know. Goddamn cradle robber.

“Twenty? Or, almost twenty.”

“Oh, you nasty girl. He’s nearly ten years younger than us.” At 28, you literally could not imagine being interested in a 20 year old. Anyone under 25 is practically an infant; what would you talk about?

“The pussy wants what it wants, babe. It’s more fun when they barely know what they’re doing.” Then again, you figure, she isn’t exactly doing much talking.

“That’s gross, Jay.”

“Is it any grosser than your thing for older guys? You’d fuck my dad if I let you anywhere near him, which is exactly why I don’t.”

“I would not fuck your dad—actually, what does he look like?” She groans down the line and you laugh. “I’m kidding. I’m trying to fuck someone’s dad tonight, but not yours.” You hear a choked laugh from beside you and you glance over at, objectively, one of the most attractive men you’ve ever seen: he’s Black, bald, muscular, with a neatly trimmed goatee and a killer smile, and apparently your thirst for older men amuses him. You smile back. “Jay, I have to go; I’m embarrassing myself in public.”

“Okay, and what else is new? Bye!” When she hangs up, you lock your phone and turn to face the man at the bar.

“Sorry about that. Sometimes I forget people are actually listening in places like these; there’s so much talking it’s all kind of white noise to me.”

“It’s kind of my job to listen to what no one else does, but I forget to turn it off sometimes,” he says, and no, that’s not intriguing or anything. “So you’re into older guys?” he asks with a raised eyebrow, and you lean in with your chin in your hand, elbow on the bar.

“Almost exclusively. You don’t look old enough to be someone’s dad, but I’d probably make an exception.” He laughs again; he doesn’t have a drink, so maybe he’s waiting for the bartender, but you sip yours.

“I’m flattered, but taken. I have a friend who’s probably your type; he doesn’t do one night stands, though. He doesn’t really do anything. We’re trying to loosen him up.” You hum thoughtfully, take a cursory glance around the room.

“I happen to be great at loosening older men up. Is he here?” He shoots you a smile, looks at you like you kind of amaze him.

“You don’t beat around the bush, do you?” You raise an eyebrow.

“Would you, if you weren’t taken?” He nods a little, like you’ve got a good point, and you both laugh. “Yeah, it’s a double standard. If you can walk up to a woman and ask her if it hurt when she fell from heaven, why can’t I walk up to an older man and ask if he believes in love at first sight, or if I should walk by again?”

“That tired line would not work on my friend,” he says, and you grin.

“I think you’d be surprised. But, you know him better, so why don’t you just invite me back to your table, since I got stood up by my friend and I’m all alone, and let me do my thing?” You swirl your straw in your drink, try to look flirty, and he leans in on his elbow like you did before.

“You know what? What the hell. If nothing else, he gets some attention from a pretty girl and maybe it boosts his confidence.” You smile—you like this guy already.

“Aw, you think I’m pretty?” He rolls his eyes, and then the bartender presents him with his drinks. You take two—one is a neat bourbon, that has to belong to the older man friend—and follow him to his table while he just shakes his head.

“Looks like you brought back more than drinks,” a pale woman with dark hair and bangs says with a smile when the two of you approach the table. He hands her one of the beers, takes the cocktail from your hand and gives it to a petite blonde with fair skin.

“Her friend bailed on her and we got talking at the bar, so I invited her to come sit with us.” You introduce yourself to the group, and the friend Derek mentioned might be your type? Egregious understatement.

He’s everything you like in an older man: polite, well-spoken, handsome, clean shaven, with a great head of thick, dark hair—he’s wearing an expensive watch, a goddamn suit, a tailored suit that fits him perfectly, and if Jay were here, you’d be catching her attention and panting like a dog, with your hands up near your face.

To someone without your more refined palate for older gentlemen, he may look like an average white guy in his early fifties, but you have to look down to make sure your panties haven’t dropped involuntarily. Just in case.

“Is this seat taken?” you ask, gesturing to the one next to him, and he shakes his head, pulls it out for you before he sits back down—yes, he stood when you approached the table. Manners, check. You’re trying not to drool.

You smooth out your skirt before you take your seat—you always dress for the man you want to attract, and tonight is no exception, so you’re wearing a black lace dress and nude heels; the dress is fitted, but not clingy, and not too short, and you know the right kind of man will find it appealing. So far, your handsome potential love interest Aaron seems to be looking respectfully; that may change, but you’re happy to see it, for now.

“So Derek mentioned you’re all in the FBI; are you the boss? You look like the boss,” you say with a playful smile, and Aaron looks a little nervous when he nods, makes eye contact.

“Until someone decides to overthrow me,” he jokes, deadpan, and your smile gets brighter. Dry sense of humor, check.

“I’d like to see them try; I definitely sense that you can handle your own.” Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Derek hiding a smile behind his hand. He knows you’re flirting, even if no one else does, and another reason you hope to take Aaron home is so you can wipe that smile off his face—but mostly because Aaron’s gorgeous, and you know it would be a very good time for the both of you.

“Let’s play darts,” Derek says to the other people at the table—you can’t remember their names at the moment, all your attention focused on Aaron—and they get up and walk over to the board, so it’s just the two of you.

Aaron clears his throat. “Thank you. What do you do for work?”

“I’m in publishing; a copy editor. Mostly Tom Clancy type action novels, and romance novels. Lots of heaving bosoms and cries of overwhelming pleasure, you know?” You take a sip of your drink through the straw, looking over at him as innocently as you can. He’s a little flushed; you’re a huge fan of that look on a man. “Do you ever read romance novels?”

“Uh, no. Not my genre.” He takes a sip of his drink, and you watch his mouth while he does.

“Not mine either. When you edit enough of them, they become wholly unsexy… and they never compare to real life.” You flick your eyes over his body, briefly but not subtly, and he gives you a glance back. Your heart beats a little faster in your chest. “So what do you like to read? Wait, may I guess?” you ask, setting a hand on his arm. He nods, and you carry on, leaning just a little closer. “So I’m going to guess you’re a fan of the classics, novels you’ve read a hundred times. I think you would tell me your favorite is To Kill a Mockingbird,” you say, tapping against his sleeve, “and maybe intellectually it is, but you actually feel more when you read Moby Dick. I bet your heart yearns for adventure—not that life as a crime solving FBI agent is boring, but it's all too real. Moby Dick is the perfect blend of adventure and fantasy for a man like you.”

“You’ve known me for all of ten minutes,” he says with a raised eyebrow, and you shrug and take a drink.

“True. But am I right? Or close?” He smiles, the first full, unguarded expression he’s given tonight, and you feel awesome for making that happen.

“My favorite book is Moby Dick. I make a point to read it at least twice a year. You’re good.”

“Thank you.” You pull back, take your hand off of his arm; you’ve laid the groundwork for touching, and he’ll have to make a move if he wants more. “People often tell you a lot they don’t intend to, and books are my thing, so it’s easy for me to connect the dots. I recommend books to people as a kind of party trick.” You stir your drink, and he shifts a little, sitting closer.

“Have you disappointed many people with your recommendations?”

“Oh, I make it a personal mission to never leave anyone disappointed,” you say, your voice low and sweet like honey. His eyes move to your mouth. You sweep your tongue over your bottom lip. “Derek said your friends are trying to get you to loosen up; can I ask why?” He flicks his eyes up to yours, frowns a little, like he’s not sure that’s something he’s ready to tell you; ultimately, he just sighs.

“I’ve been divorced for five years, alone for five years. They think it’s time I…” He trails off, shrugs.

“Get back in the saddle?” you offer, and he laughs lightly, agrees. “Is that something you’re interested in? You shouldn’t feel pressured into it if you’re not ready.” You might want to sleep with him so badly it’s sickening, but not at the expense of his well-being.

He exhales deeply and lifts his arm to rest it on the back of your chair; you want to smile, but the conversation doesn’t call for it, so you hold off.

“I think I’m ready, but how do you really know?” You turn toward him a little more, lean against his arm; it feels easy, comfortable, almost like a real date and not you flirting like your life depends on it and hoping to get a bite.

“I think you should wait to meet someone who makes you feel a spark, and then explore it. Maybe it burns hot, but doesn’t last. Maybe it’s a slow burn. Maybe it’s a bit of both. I think when you’re really ready to put yourself out there, you’ll know.” He holds your gaze, wets his lips, takes a breath.

“You’ve been flirting with me.” You do smile a little, then.

“Yes, Aaron, I have.”

“Did Derek put you up to it?”

“Absolutely not.” You touch his arm again, gentle, lean in close. “I’m genuinely interested in you. You’re everything I’m attracted to in a man.” His smile doesn’t touch his eyes.

“Old and uptight?”

“Older, and kind, and capable of having a conversation about more than just sports and money, and handsome. Very handsome.” You lift your fingers from his arm, brush them through his hair over his temple. “I feel a spark. Do you?”

“Yes,” he breathes, and when you set your hand on the table, he covers it carefully with his. His hand is big, warm, softer than you’d expected, and you’re met with the sudden urge to feel it all over your body. “I feel a spark.”

“Good. Do you want to come home with me tonight? No strings attached—just to get you back in the saddle,” you say with a tilt of your head, and he nods.

“I want to.” You’re certain that the smile that crosses your face is softer, inviting, but you get the feeling he won’t kiss you while his friends could be watching. You’re actually surprised he’s touching you so openly.

“Okay, so why don’t you give me a ride home? I was going to have to call an Uber, since my friend didn’t show up, but you’re a gentleman, aren’t you? You wouldn’t let me do that.” He catches on to what you’re saying, the excuse you’re giving him to give his friends, makes a noise of understanding.

“Of course. I wouldn’t rest not knowing you made it home safely.”

“I’m not sure how much rest you’ll be getting tonight,” you murmur, and you rest your free hand on his thigh under the table, squeeze a little. He’s very firm, and you kind of melt. “But that’s a very sweet sentiment, Aaron. Are you committed to staying here much longer?”

“Not at all. Would you like to leave now?” You hold his gaze for a moment, want to be really sure about this; you’re no expert on body language, but you’ve been here before, and he really does look less tense than when you first showed up, more comfortable and open. All really good signs.

“Yes, please.” He squeezes your hand, then stands, smooths out his jacket, and tells you he’ll be right back while he goes to say goodbye to his friends. You stand too, finish what’s left of your drink, and pull out your phone to text Jay.

Taking home the most incredible man. Guess I don’t need my wingwoman after all.

J: Tell grandpa I said he better treat you right.

Please. He’s not that old. If anything, you can call him daddy. :P

J: You can call him daddy. Have fun ;) The ride to your apartment starts out quiet, but you try to fill it by asking Aaron more about himself. You keep your hands on him while you chat, leaning as close to him as you can while wearing your seatbelt, running your hand up and down his leg, over his arm while he shifts gears. You know it’s turning you on, and you’re fairly certain it’s turning him on as well.

You learn more about his job, that he basically solves crimes by judging people, which is kind of funny; before that, he was a lawyer, which you can definitely see. He has one child, a daughter who’s upset with him because of the divorce (someone’s dad, check), and a brother who lives in New York, no living parents. It’s more information than you usually get out of someone you plan to sleep with, but you really do like him, and since he’s not the one night stand type, you think more conversation is the right way to go.

He asks about you too, about your family and your job and your lame friend who bailed on you, and when he arrives outside your building, parks in the lot, you unbuckle your seatbelt and lean in closer, smoothing a hand over his waist.

“I’m really glad I met you tonight,” you breathe, looking up at him, and he puts his hand on your cheek and you meet for a slow, easy kiss. “Hmm. I knew you’d be good at that.”

“I knew you’d be good at that, too. You have the most beautiful lips.” He brushes his fingers over them, and you take his hand, bring two of them into your mouth to suck softly. His breath hitches, and you feel your panties getting damp. God, he’s gorgeous. “Let’s go inside,” he whispers, and you slip his fingers out, drop a hand to his lap where he’s—oh, so perfectly hard it’s unreal.

“We could get started out here, have a little adventure,” you say playfully, fully prepared for him to say he’d rather not, but he just licks his lips and looks at you like you’re going to be the death of him, but at least he’ll die happily. That’s another look you’re a huge fan of on an older man.

You undo his belt, his button and his zipper, pull his cock out of his pants; he’s of average length, thick, makes your mouth water, and you lean in to use that to your advantage, getting him wet with your saliva and then stroking him in your hand. You look up at his face, and he’s got his eyes closed, head back against the headrest—so fucking sexy. You reach your free hand under his shirt, where he’s hairy, strong, but a little soft, just the way you like it, and he opens his eyes and pulls you close for a kiss that’s a bit harder than the last.

“You’re absolutely perfect,” he sighs against your lips, and you press closer for another kiss. You almost regret the adventure comment now, because you want to undress him, and touch him, feel him all over, but you’ll just have to be patient. (That’s never been your strong suit.)

“Are you kidding? You are… everything. If I could build a dream man, he would literally be a copy of you.” He makes a sharp, self-deprecating sound, and you lean down to get him wetter, move your hand a little faster. “I’m completely serious. I’m a little upset I’ve been going to that bar for so long and our paths never crossed.” One of his hands moves to your hair, and he pulls you close for a kiss; he’s ready to come, you can tell, and you want him to more than anything, so you cover his hand with yours and dip your head, sucking his dick like you’re desperate for it. When it comes to Aaron, you’re kind of desperate for everything.

“Oh, god. That feels so good, baby.” You moan at the pet name—is there anything better in the world than an older man calling you baby? Maybe just Aaron specifically calling you baby—and he tightens his fingers in your hair while you glide over him, tight and wet, until he comes in your mouth.

You swallow it down, pull off breathless, and then swipe your tongue over him so he’s clean enough that you can tuck him back into his pants. You look up at him from his lap, and he’s panting too, rubs his fingers over your lips, your chin, down your throat. You’re desperately horny now, soaking wet, and when you shift to sit up, he catches you for a deep, steamy kiss, and that does nothing to help your situation.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, and ugh, your heart flutters. Seriously, who created this man? He’s incredible. “Now let’s go inside so I can make you come, too.”

“Definitely,” you agree with a nod, and you kiss him once more before pulling back and climbing out of the car, straightening yourself up. He does the same, then walks over to you, takes your hand, and follows you into your apartment.

Sex with Aaron is… talk about adventure. He fucks like—well, like he hasn’t done it in over five years. As soon as you get inside the door, he gets on his knees, pulls your panties down, lifts your skirt up, and eats your pussy with such enthusiasm you come with your hands in his hair, rocking against his face, in less than three minutes. Seeing him down on the ground in the full suit, just going to town on you, is not an image you’ll soon forget, that’s for sure.

After that, the two of you stumble to your bedroom, hands all over each other, tugging at zippers and discarding clothes—he has you keep your shoes on, and that makes you feel slutty like a porn star, and super hot—and you kiss, touch, moving your hands all over each other's bodies until he’s hard again. You stay in missionary, and after he slips on a condom from your bedside table, he slides into you, kisses your lips and your neck and your shoulders while he rolls his hips against yours.

It’s slow and sensual at first, and you drag your nails lightly across his back, tilt your head when he nips at your throat.

“Aaron, oh. You feel so good,” you breathe, scraping your fingers through his hair, and his thrusts get a little deeper, his kisses a little rougher.

“You’re incredible. So gorgeous.” He moves a hand to your breast, massages it while your bodies work; you hitch your legs up higher, moan, and pull him closer, your hands on his body, and he fucks into you more frantically, humping against you hard, wildly. You’ve never really gotten fuck you like an animal, but that’s kind of what he’s doing, and you’re into it, clinging to him, pushing into his thrusts like it’s possible to take him deeper than you are now.

God, he’s going to spoil you, ruin you for all other men. You’re going to have your best sex at 28 and then be chasing this feeling the rest of your goddamn life. It’s both amazing and horribly unfair.

“Yes, Aaron, yeah. Fuck me hard, fuck me deep.” He groans, pounds inside you, moves his hand from your breast to the back of your neck and stares down into your eyes while he absolutely destroys you. You come clenching around him, pulling his hair and digging your nails into his shoulder, and his mouth comes crashing down for a kiss while he thrusts through it and then stutters, his orgasm right behind yours.

You sag against the pillow behind your head, and he puts his weight on you, hand still clamped around the nape of your neck, and breathes hot against your throat.

You stare up at the ceiling, catching your breath, and thank fucking god Jay stood you up tonight. Aaron is very sweet, kissing you and holding you, murmuring against your skin, and the two of you go to the bathroom, get cleaned up, and then raid your kitchen for snacks, talking easily and laughing. He doesn’t look like he’s about to bolt, which you’d been a little worried about; in fact, he actually suggests taking your snacks back to bed, jokes about not getting any crumbs on your white sheets. Never one to kick a man out abruptly after sex, and especially not a man like Aaron, you agree, and you end up in bed again, which means…

Another frantically torn condom wrapper later, and you’re on your stomach, your nipples rubbing against the sheets. Aaron’s hands are on your ass while you work yourself on his cock, rolling your body, moaning desperately like you aren’t already two orgasms deep; his dick hits just right, and between that and the nipple stimulation you’re coming fast, bucking hard against him so he’ll follow.

“Fuck, baby, coming already?” He tightens his grip, slams inside you, plants one hand on the bed to change his angle a bit. “Let’s try for another; your body is so perfect, built for sex, built for me.” You groan, roll your eyes back because his dirty talk is hitting the spot, and the two of you fuck together, noisy and eager and hot, until he shudders, squeezes your ass hard and starts to come.

You’re so close, right on the edge, and you sound wild because of it, your moans high, whimpering, your fingers digging into the sheets.

“Yes, yes, don’t stop, please don’t stop,” you beg, grinding against him, and he puts both hands hard on your hips, rails you into the bed.

“I’m not stopping until you come for me. Come for me,” he murmurs, and he wraps one hand around the front of your body, rubs your clit, and you climax, squeezing your eyes shut, seeing stars. You moan his name, drop your hand to cover his where it rests against your pussy, and this time when his body drapes across your back like a weighted blanket, you sigh and close your eyes.

He kisses your back and shoulders, runs his big hands over your hips and ass, then slides off and guides you to the edge of the bed, lifts you up and carries you to the bathroom. You think absently that you could get used to being treated this well, and you must say it, because he presses a kiss to your lips and whispers, “I will if you let me.”

There’s a little talk in bed, after you’re cleaned up and cozy beneath the comforter, about going on a real date; Aaron seems nervous, like he thinks you won’t go for it, that all you wanted was this night of sex. And yes, while that’s typically your MO, something about Aaron is different. He makes you want more, things like dates and picnics and sweet lovemaking at night and kisses—all the kisses, everywhere, all the time.

You ask him to stay, and he promises he will, and you fall asleep in his arms. It’s the best you’ve felt in a really long time.

You wake up to Aaron’s sleepy, handsome face, and you kiss and smile into each other’s lips, because last night was great, but this is even greater. Your plan is to take a shower together and then go out for breakfast, but there’s a knock at your door just as you’re planning to step in.

“You go ahead, I’ll catch up,” you tell him with a kiss, and you pull on your robe and peer through the peephole, then pull the door open. “Well, well; now you decide to show up.”

Jay steps in with a box of doughnuts and two cups of coffee, looking properly shamed.

“I know, I’m a horrible friend. I broke the slut code: stay slutty, but never at the expense of your best girl.” You crack a smile, because you could never really be mad at her, but especially not after last night. You’re about to say that, but she looks over your shoulder at the clothes still strewn about your living room and grins. “Holy shit. Is your old man still here?”

“He’s not an old man, and yes, he’s in the shower, so shut up.” She shoves the doughnuts and coffee carrier into your hands and brushes past you, toward your bedroom, and you groan. “Jay, no, come on.”

“I just want to get a glimpse of him,” she says, peeking her head into your room. She sees more clothes, and the condom wrappers, looks back at you with a cocked eyebrow. “Okay, someone had a good time last night.”

“Yes, it was fucking incredible. He’s a sex god, I’m not even kidding. He ate my pussy like he hasn’t had a meal in months, then fucked me twice, so hard and sexy, and then he asked me if he could take me on a date, Jay.” You smile wide, can’t help it. “I really like him, so I actually owe you for not coming out last night.” She smiles back, pulls you close for a hug, and you step back with your hands on her shoulders. “So thank you, and thanks for coming to apologize, but can you please leave? I really don’t want to miss out on some potential good morning shower sex.”

She rolls her eyes, but it’s all from a place of love, and she turns to head out of your room.

“Okay, but only because cockblocking you would mean breaking the slut code again, and I can’t have my membership card revoked. I have a date with the almost frat boy again tonight.” She grins, and you shake your head, pull off your robe when you hear the door shut and head for the shower.

Good morning shower sex has never been so good. One month and twelve dates later, and you’re head over heels for Aaron. He is so sweet, and smart, and secretly funny, the perfect gentleman when you’re in public and an absolute manic in private, and you seriously could not have imagined a more perfect man.

Jay is maybe a little tired of hearing you talk about him.

You’re out for breakfast on a Saturday morning—Aaron is on a case in Indiana, or you’d probably be with him—and she sighs around a bite of french toast.

“I get it, he’s the best lay you’ve ever had in your life. He makes your pussy wet and your heart horny, or whatever. When do I get to meet the old man who’s got you wrapped around his big sexy fingers?”

“He’s supposed to be home tonight, maybe I’ll see if he’s feeling up to drinks?” Sometimes he’s really worn out after these cases, and you don’t blame him, but occasionally they must touch him in a way that makes him want to enjoy life, because you’ve had some nice dates the same day he gets back. You’ll ask, and if he’s not up for it, you’ll reschedule.

“Ooh, yes. I can’t wait to finally get a good look at the hunk who turned my maneater best friend into a monogamous whore.” You gasp, affronted, and she cackles, takes a sip of her iced coffee. Sometimes you can’t even remember why you’re friends—but she never fails to do something completely unexpected and sweet that reminds you eventually. “Hey, maybe now that you’re obsessed with this guy, you can finally meet my dad, since I don’t have to worry about you trying to suck his dick at first sight.”

You know that Jay’s relationship with her dad has been a little rough since her parents split up, and you’ve always thought that maybe you could get her to open up to him, to talk to him, if you could get to know him, but her fears about your taste for older men have always been hilariously real. As if you can’t control yourself; as if you’d ever actually date her dad.

“Well I’ll have to ask my old man; maybe he’s down for a threesome?” It’s her turn to act offended, and you laugh and send Aaron a text about this evening before you forget.

Can’t wait to meet the infamous Jay, he replies, and you won’t lie, you’re feeling really good about your two favorite people finally getting to know each other.

That night, you and Aaron beat Jay to the bar, because of course you do—that bitch is never on time for anything.

You’re feeling cute in a sexy turtleneck dress (the neck of which Aaron tugged down to place a hickey under when you rode him on the couch before coming here) and a set of earrings he bought you—you’re wearing a set of lingerie he bought you, too for later—and he looks gorgeous in a dark blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up.

You can barely keep your hands off of him, squeezing his thigh, kissing his neck; you only give him an inch of space when he gets up to run to the restroom, and even then, the way he smiles and presses his lips to yours before he goes makes you want to cancel drinks and take him home so you can be alone.

But Jay asked to meet him, and you have been a little obsessed lately, so you want to do this and make her happy.

You look down at your phone, ready to hit her with some inflammatory where the fuck are you??? texts, when she drops into the seat Aaron had just vacated, breathless.

“Sorry, sorry. Traffic was really bad, and I got into this huge fight with my mom on the phone...” She pulls off her jacket, drapes it over the back of the seat.

“Is everything okay?” you ask, concerned. The two of them usually get along pretty well.

“Yeah, she’s just pissed because my dad has a new girlfriend—which is stupid, because she’s the one who wanted to divorce him, so why does she care? But anyway, I told her I’d meet her and be nice to her, because it’s important to him, and she expects me to take her side or something. I don’t know. Let’s just say I’m really glad I’m out for drinks with you and your old man so I can forget about my problems for a while.” She takes a deep breath for practically the first time since she started talking, then looks around, realizes it’s just the two of you. “Hey, where is he, anyway?”

“Restroom,” you say with a smile, but something more must creep onto your face, because she rolls her eyes playfully.

“And you didn’t follow him in there for a little stall action?”

“Ew, no. That’s more your speed than mine; we had sex before we came, anyway, look at this hickey.” You pull the neck of your dress down and she whistles, impressed.

“Congrats on having such good pussy, babe. I know you’re sickeningly obsessed with him, but it looks to me like he’s got it bad for you too.” You grin, instinctively want to gush over him, but you see him walking over out of the corner of your eye, so you hold off.

He’s frowning, though, and you’re not sure why.

“Julie?” Jay whips her head around at the sound of Aaron’s voice, and her eyes get wide.

“Dad? What are you…” You stand up abruptly, looking up at Aaron, and Jay stands too, looking between you, confused. “What are you doing here?”

“I… We…” He swallows, looks at you like you’ve both made a terrible mistake. You’re surprised how much that look hurts, but you know you have to take care of Jay before you can feel sorry for yourself.

“Jay, listen to me, okay? I swear to god I didn’t know.” You’re begging, pleading with your eyes, your hands on her shoulders. “I did not know.” She shakes her head like it’s not making sense, but when she lets herself connect the dots, she brings up a hand to cover her mouth.

“Oh my god. Are you fucking kidding me?” She pulls away from you, looking at you like you punched her in the face. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Jay, I didn’t—”

“Julie,” Aaron says, reaching for her, but she steps back, palms up.

“I seriously can’t believe this. You two… After every joke we made about me keeping you away from him?” She looks at you like you betrayed her, and you exhale, shrug sadly.

“It’s not like I went looking for him, Jay. We just… found each other.” You don’t look at Aaron, because if the last month hasn’t meant the same things to him, you’ll have to be okay with that. “I know it’s shocking, and I’m sorry. I can’t imagine what it feels like to find this out, this way.”

“You’re right, you can’t imagine. I just fought with my mom about my dad’s new girlfriend, and it’s-it’s you.” She laughs, humorless.

“You fought with your mom? When?” Aaron asks, crossing his arms, and it’s so clear how much he cares about Jay. Her eyes fly to his.

“On the fucking way here. She told me about your new slut girlfriend, and I was defending you! I told her I’d meet her if you asked me to, that I’d be nice because I know she’s important to you! And it’s you,” she practically spits, turning to you. “Such a whore that you’ll fuck anyone over forty who can still get it up, including my fucking father.” Her tone stings, and people are looking at the three of you, but you take a breath, remind yourself that she’s just angry right now, and she loves you, doesn’t mean that.

“Julie, that's enough. I’m taking you home and we can talk about this there.” Aaron steps past her, picks up her jacket, and glances over at you, but you’re collecting your things and and pulling up a rideshare app to get yourself the fuck out of there.

You head for the bathroom to wait it out until your ride comes, and you definitely don’t cry because the two people who bring you the most happiness in the world are gone and they barely even looked back. It’s five days before Jay shows up at your door with apology doughnuts and a bottle of rosé. You eat and drink and cry on each other, and then laugh at each other, and your heart feels a little healed by the end of it.

“I’m sorry I called you a whore. It’s just… what are the odds, after everything we said, that you would actually hook up with my fucking dad.” You laugh and take the last bite of your doughnut.

“You don’t think I was a little startled by that turn of events? I was as shocked as you. I knew he had a daughter around my age, but that’s not really what we talked about, you know?” She shoves half a doughnut in her mouth and cackles.

“You don’t talk a whole lot, from what I’ve gathered.”

“Didn’t,” you say, and your whole mood shifts. She looks confused. “We didn’t talk a whole lot. He hasn’t spoken to me since the night you found out.” She pulls out her phone, starts texting.

“Okay, I told him I was okay with you guys like, two days ago, so this probably means he’s spiraling. He tends to do that—get in his own head and beat himself up for things that aren’t his fault.” She looks up from her phone, gives you a soft smile. “Will you forgive me if I tell you he’s moping at home right now, and that I know he’ll be happy to see you?” You roll your eyes a little.

“I already forgive you, Jay, but if he hasn’t called me, maybe there’s a reason. Maybe he was looking for an out, and I gave him one, or maybe he can’t feel the same way I do because he knows we’re friends.”

“He told my mom about you, remember? He wouldn’t have done that if he wasn’t serious about you, and I don’t think he’d be acting this emo if he didn’t have feelings for you.” She reaches out, covers your hands with hers. “I’m really, really sorry I fucked this up for you guys. Weirdness aside, I know what good people you both are, and I hate that you were happy and I took that from you guys. I’m 100% supportive of you being my future step-mom,” she says with a grin, and you roll your eyes again and give her a hug and then jump up to get a shower.

You’re going to go get your old man.

When you knock on Aaron’s door an hour later, he looks surprised to see you.

“I thought you’d be Julie,” he says softly, and you sigh.

“I know. She sent me. She wants us to get our heads out of our asses, but I told her I don’t know where your head is, because we haven’t spoken.” Seeing him makes you feel a little better, because he does look like he may have been moping the last few days, so that must mean the spark is still there, right? “If you want me to leave, just tell me, and I’ll go; I’ll get out of your life and you can pretend it was just a casual thing, if that’s what you want.” Your heart aches at the thought, but you’d understand, if being his daughter’s best friend is an obstacle he can’t overcome.

“I don’t want you to leave,” he says after a long, painfully drawn out moment. “I don’t want you to ever leave. And I could never pretend this was casual.” He steps forward—so handsome in a t-shirt and jeans it makes you long to press kisses all over his face, to hold him and be held by him—and his eyes are trained on yours. “I know nothing about us is conventional, but it doesn’t matter to me if it doesn’t matter to you. I want to be with you.”

You take a deep, calming breath, exhale and nod. Your hands ache to reach out and touch him.

“I want to be with you, but only if you can promise that if something comes up with Jay—Julie—we can figure it out together. I don’t ever want to feel the way I felt the other night, and while I get that you had to take care of your daughter, and I’m glad you two talked things out, I can’t just be abandoned if things get weird.” You approach him, wrap your arms around him, and sigh. He hugs you so tightly, rests his cheek against the top of your head.

“I promise. I know I could have handled that better, but the situation was just so...”

“I know, that’s okay. Family comes first—but just so you know, she gave me her full support to campaign to become her new step-mom,” you say, pulling back with a teasing smile, and he shakes his head and grins. “So, one last question: Are you ready to get back in the saddle, Aaron?” He leans in and kisses you so hard you’re breathless, weaves his fingers into your hair.

“Sounds like my kind of adventure.” Message sent with high importance: Do not disturb! Your dad’s indecent.

J: Gross. Thanks for the warning, mom.

That’s step-mom, to you. Taglist ❤️: @thaddeusly @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @my-rosegold-soul @ssamorganhotchner @heliotropehotch @angelhotchner @qtip-blog @gspenc @wishuhadstayed

[marshmallowprotection]

I just keep coming in here and milking your au dry. But I can tell it isn’t so uncommon in these parts. May I ask for a crumb 🤏 of Halloween content for the mighty fine Cowboy Au 🎃?

There was only one night a year when mischief was warranted by the townsfolk. A night when demons and ghouls ran amuck... a night all to those who wanted to play tricks until the sun rose. That's what the night was for. Anyone who wanted to play a trick on someone would do so in a heartbeat knowing that it could cause a headache to folks in town. It was hard to say what was a crime and what wasn't a trick.

The line between the two made it the perfect venue to take what he wanted. Unknown wasn't one for the pranks and tricks played by the fools who wanted to steal fence posts and release cattle, or the ones who got the bright idea to move every horse and buggy to a different house. His brother was more of the type to do that. In fact, that's the place he expected his brother to be.

Seven was around town somewhere using the cover of the holiday to sneak into people's houses. He had the cover of Yoosung and a few of the college-aged friends he had to make sure that he wasn't caught in the act by himself. He wasn't going to throw his friend to the sheriff if they were caught, but it surely looked better to be in a group on the holiday than it did to be alone.

There was one fool a few years back who had played a trick on the church. He rang the bell over and over for hours until someone could go find the sheriff to take care of it. Too bad the fool had been drunk off his ass and couldn't take care of the problem till morning. He had shrugged it off to anyone angry with a simple "I reckon 'em boys did it thinkin' it would be a mighty fine joke. As long as they ain't steal none of the property, it's outta my hands."

Unknown wasn't one to care for that. All the fools made it easier for him to grab anything he wanted. With morons drinking their heads stupid and kids running around playing tricks on people, he more or less had his run of the town. It was easy to take money from pockets that never suspected him. It was already nearing midnight and there was enough gold and silver in his pockets to make him feel good for a month.

His brother was working on hearing loose lips or finding something that could help them on their quest. Unknown was focused on the money they needed to keep their operation afloat. He had heard a few morons talking about the drying supply of gold, but that wasn't any news to him. That had been going on for months. It wasn't just some monster lurking in the shadows taking the town's resources.

Unknown knew exactly who it was.

With a scoff, he ignored the way that children darted past him into the hills. He had already scoured the town for what he needed to get, so there wasn't much else left for him to do. There was a point when men would become so inebriated that there wasn't a way to get any useful tips from them. When their speech was slurred beyond reason, he had no reason to keep stealing.

You weren't working at the bar tonight, either.

He half-expected to find you on stage but the only one working that night was Zen and one of the other performers. You were steadily becoming more of a bar favorite so it struck him as odd. It was better to keep those fools entertained and placated. The town would get too rowdy without any eye candy. He supposed he couldn't be too mad.

If you had been wandering around on Halloween, there was no doubt in his mind that someone would've tried to steal you as a prank. Even if you'd be fine in the morning, he didn't like the thought of that. The mere notion of someone getting their dirty mitts on you made that blood of his boil even in the moonlight. Still, on a night like this when there was no one to trust, he wanted to see you before he had to see himself out of town again.

It meant that he had to make the trek out to Zen’s cabin once again. He knew the path already and the more that he walked, the less he had to see of anyone stalking the night for someone to break or steal. The shrieks and shrill sounds in the air weren’t much for him to be interested in. Halloween was just a time for a world of demons to come alive. There was nothing but fools playing a game in the name of being a trickster. That kind of life was beneath him. It didn’t belong to him.

By the time he reached the cabin, he wasn’t surprised to see that the fire wasn’t burning. It might’ve been becoming colder outside by the week, but nobody was fool enough to keep a fire stoked on this holiday. There was still the faint scent of a smokestack but that was probably lingering from dinnertime. It must’ve been a few hours since the house had been alive. You were alone in that cabin. You had nowhere else to go, after all.

Unknown peered in the through the window and searched for your form, only to see that you were on the floor of the cabin. You sat in front of a dirty mirror with a candle in hand, eyes watching the mirror for answers that you wanted to find. It struck him as odd. You weren’t a type to have vanity. You had a pretty face and it was worth looking at, but you hadn’t been the type to get fixated on the sight of yourself like Zen was. So, what were you doing?

With a slow push to the cabin door, Unknown made his way into the building with no thought as to what it would look like to anyone. His boots were heavy on the ground but you didn’t flinch. You kept your eyes on that mirror as if it were going to be the very thing that answered your questions about the universe. Was this a game of some kind, or had you finally lost your mind from the desert heat? That was hard to say.

It wasn’t until he was standing behind you that you moved even a little bit. Your outstretched hand almost touched the mirror where his reflection remained. Your eyes were trembling in your worn reflection, tracing his features to your memory like you did every time you saw him, but this time was different. It was like you couldn’t believe it was him standing behind you.

Unknown wanted answers. He leaned forward so that his face was stronger in the mirror, “Playin’ a trick on yerself, little Cereus?”

“On Halloween, there’s a game young people play in the mirror,” your voice was light and unsure. “They say if you stare into the mirror at midnight, you’ll catch a vision of your future partner in the candlelight. I always thought it was silly since I never saw anyone in the mirror when I played before. But, it’s so odd that you’ve shown up in the middle of my game.”

Oh, you were playing a trick on him, weren’t you?

He wasn’t one for ridiculous games. But, it seemed as though you were. Just as he should’ve expected from someone like you. You believed in things and places he never could. He chuckled, almost amused, since the implication that he could be your partner sounded silly. You weren’t one that deserved filthy hands on the perfect smile you possessed. You deserved way better.

There were going to be a world of options once you paid him off.

Yet, Unknown didn’t want that day to come. He didn’t want you to wander off to the seas where anyone could sweep you into their arms and trick you for every dream you’d ever had. You were too trusting... too nice... too faithful. He couldn’t stand the idea that you could be conned again. He was the only thing that could keep you safe... the only one that could steer you right. This was just a game to play to trick your mind...  but he wasn’t playing a trick on you tonight.

His hand pressed against your shoulder and his breath fanned against your cheek as you both looked into the mirror. “I reckon what’s so dangerous about that? If yer’ willin’ to play these games, ya’ must’a’ already gotten everything I need outta’ town. Unless this is a trick yer’ mind is playin’ on ya’... do ya’ feel guilty about ditchin’ yer’ job to play a silly lil’ game? Wouldn’t the last thing ya’ want to see on a night like this ‘en is yer’ boss, angry y’all ain’t doin’ what ya’ promised to do?”

Your chest rose and fell. You lifted your hand, the one that had been shaking before, just enough to cup his cheek in your hand. You never looked away to hide your face from the mirror. You stayed looking at the reflection of you and Unknown as the candlelight flickered off and on due to the subtle breeze from the open doorway.

“No, boss,” you whispered, voice filled with something he couldn’t figure out by himself. This was confidence from you that he didn’t expect. You looked into his eyes and he looked into yours. “I think... I think this is exactly what I want to see in my mirror tonight.”

Why did his heart flutter when you said that?

Was this really a trick? 

Unknown’s hand reached beyond you, his fingers taking hold of the candle and extinguishing the light with a single nudge, breathing in the gasp you exhaled as the room became dark. Even if it was a trick,, he was going to show you what he believed to be a real trick on his favorite desert flower. “Relax,” his voice came in as a haughty taunt. “I’m only goin’ ta’ show ya’ what tricks a cowboy can play on ya’.”

[midgardianweasley]

Movie Night

Movie night

Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: It’s friday night, or more commonly known as movie night for the Avengers. A horror movie was put on and Y/N isn’t feeling so brave, luckily she’s got a Romanoff nearby.

Warnings: coulrophobia (fear of clowns), mentions of the IT movie and pennywise.

Word Count: 2.5k

Идиоты. - ‘Idiots.’

Requests are open!

“I vote action movie”

“We watched an Action movie last week, Sam.” Steve pinched the bridge of his nose, briefly looking up and meeting my eyes, earning a small smile in return, attempting to provide some sanity for the man.

“Plus, do you not think we’ve had enough action for one week?” Bucky grumbled, this week having taken a toll on everyone. We were all exhausted from our missions, some more than others, the soldier being one of them.

“Okay okay, no action, damn” Sam put his hands up in defeat, accepting that he wasn’t going to win this one. A few more options had been suggested, Bruce suggested rom-com, Thor suggested comedy, Vision proposed a documentary, all of which were shut down with groans and sounds of protest.

I turned to my assassin girlfriend who had been sitting beside me watching the scene unfold with an amused smirk on her face, her green eyes darting around the room whenever someone else spoke and taking sips of the drink she had in her hand. I nudged her slightly to get her attention

“Hey.”

“Hi”

“If it was up to you, what would you choose for movie night?” I asked. She morphed her face into a thoughtful one, still with a slight smile on her face, taking time to make her decision.

“If it was completely up to me? I would-”

“Aha!” Tony interrupted with a loud snap of his fingers. “I know, we haven’t watched a horror movie in a while, and the new IT movie just came out, we can watch that” He smirked, proud of his contribution to the discussion at hand. I looked around the room, praying that they would pick anything else, literally anything, even Vision’s documentary.

Unfortunately, everyone seemed to be really into it as they all shared nod’s and “yeah” “sounds good” before splitting up to go and get their snacks and blankets to bring back to the large sofa.

Although I wouldn't admit it to the rest of the group, I was absolutely terrified of clowns and have been since I was a child. If there was a clown at a birthday party or an event, I’d pretend I was sick so that my mum wouldn’t make me go. She soon noticed a pattern in my behaviour, putting the pieces together and realising that I hadn't come down with the flu three times that month, I was avoiding the ‘entertainment’ of the parties.

She tried explaining that it was just a guy in makeup and a funny suit, showing off fun tricks and jokes. However, 9 year old me still refused to attend, faking a sneeze and hiding under the blanket.

“Woah, Y/L/N, you good over there?” Tony furrowed his brows, concern written all over his face. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

I wish it was a ghost.

I regained my composure, nodding and sending a firm smile his way, hoping that would be enough to prevent any further questioning. With a shrug, he made his way out of the room and caught up with Thor to explain what ‘IT’ was.

“You don’t look so good, sure you’re okay?” Nat placed her hand on my back, rubbing small, reassuring circles with her palm. I wanted to put on a brave face and tell her I was fine, that there wasn’t a problem and my heart wasn’t racing with fear, but the look on her face, while caring and concerned, was also warning me not to lie to her. Not that i’d manage anyway, she always had ways of finding out the truth eventually.

I shook my head, letting out a small sigh and turning in my seat to address her. My eyes met hers and I felt my heart settle slightly just by looking at her, she always made me feel safe.

“What’s wrong sweetheart?” She whispered, her hand coming up to rest on my cheek, her thumb stroking my cheekbone in small movements.

“It’s so silly, really.”

“Nothing is silly if it’s upsetting you Detka. Tell me.”

“It’s this movie.”

The confusion was obvious on her face, yet she stayed quiet, allowing me to elaborate.

“I just, I’ve never been the best with clowns. Ever since I was a child, I’ve had this fear of them. If I saw one, I’d run in the opposite direction, which was more often than one would think. I mean, seriously, who wants one of those things at a party? What happened to princess parties? Or tea parties!” I exclaimed, my tone becoming more intense as I spoke.

Natasha nodded, I could almost see the cogs turning in her head, figuring out how to approach the situation. After a minute or two, she focused her eyes back on me and her hands had trailed down to meet with mine, interlocking them in the process.

“Do you want to skip it tonight?” She suggested.

“No, no, I don’t want to cause a fuss. Plus, I kinda don’t want the others knowing.”

“Are you absolutely sure? I’m sure we can pull a sickie for one night.”

“I’m sure. Just, can you stay next to me? And let me hide if it gets really bad?”

“Of course you can. I’ll be next to you the whole time.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

___________________

We were at the haunted house scene in the movie. There had already been jumpscares that I'd managed to avoid for the most part, but I don’t think I've moved past Georgie’s death yet, let alone have time to process the psycho killer clown on the screen.

Eddie was in a room alone, he was staring at this dirty, old fridge and a white hand had appeared, curling itself around and tapping on the side so you could only see it’s fingers. I tugged the blanket that was laid across Natasha and i’s laps and pulled it up to my nose, eyes still on the screen, but prepared to take cover. It appears as though nothing has changed from all those years ago.

As the fridge door creaked open, my blanket had raised higher and higher, my grip tightening by the second while the hand reappeared, this time, you could see it’s entire body contorted into this small space.

“Nope. No, absolutely fucking not. No.” I mumbled, covering my eyes with my fluffy shield. Luckily, Nat had stolen the sofa at the back, meaning I could skip the scary parts without anyone taking much notice, them being too entranced by the movie. Weirdo’s.

In my safety bubble I'd created, I felt my girlfriend’s hand on my thigh, rubbing small circles to reassure me that I was okay, and that she was here. I shuffled a little so I was closer to her, if that was even possible, her then adjusting so that her hand was still on my thigh, but another arm was wrapped securely around me, pulling me into her side a little more.

I assumed we would stay like that for a bit, until she started to shift more noticeably and lifted the part of the blanket closest to her, and put it over her own head, taking me by surprise, a faint gasp leaving my lips when seeing that she’d joined me.

“You doing okay under here?” She spoke softly, a hint of amusement playing on her face as she looked at me folded up into a ball.

“I am. This blanket protects me from all.”

“Of course it does, the fluffier it is, the more protection, right?” She quoted words i’d spoken earlier on when bringing in the blanket for us.

“Are you sure you’re not going to boil under there?”

“Nope. And even if I do, the fluffier the blanket, the more protection from cannibal clowns.” I’d explained proudly. Yes, I'm an Avenger that fights extraterrestrials and demigods and still runs to a blanket for safety, leave me alone.

We stayed under there for a minute or two, holding hands and sharing small kisses while the movie continued and we hid in our little bubble.

“C’mon lovebirds, the movie isn’t over yet, you can continue that when we’ve gone to bed if you must.” Stark called out, causing Natasha to roll her eyes and retreat back to her previous position.

I don’t know what ran through my mind, I clearly didn’t think twice about the situation I was in, my default being to follow Natasha and pull the blanket down and off my head. Upon resurfacing from my cocoon, I looked towards the Television. Bad idea. With a shriek that I'm almost certain could be heard from Asgard, I flew under the blanket again after seeing Pennywise with all of his teeth on show, edging towards Eddie to eat him.

Natasha’s arms wound their way around me again, slightly shaking now from the fright. Even though the blanket tended to muffle sounds, I could hear the room fill with laughter and comments from the Avengers.

“I didn’t know your voice could go that high Y/L/N”

“Pennywise! You scared Y/N!”

“Y/N, it’s literally-”

“How about you guys shut up and watch the movie? Otherwise I swear to god Thor, I’ll bring snakes in here and Sam, I’ll cut the wings off of your suit.” I heard the redhead next to me threaten, alongside some more punishments to the others who laughed, immediately silencing them, all of them knowing that she wasn’t one for an empty threat.

Even though the laughter died down and no more words were spoken, tears still built up in my eyes and were daring to fall down my cheeks. I feel so embarrassed. A room full of superheroes and I was scared to death over a fictional clown in front of all of them.

I tried to keep my sniffles to a minimum and at a level where no one could hear me, however, they seemed to have caught Nat’s attention as she whispered to me, loud enough for me to hear, but quietly so that it was only me that could hear.

“Mind if I come in?”

I chose not to verbally respond, instead, I pulled the edge of the blanket up, allowing her to bend down and make her way underneath. After making herself comfortable, she turned to me and did, what felt like study, my face before tutting under her breath.

“Идиоты. Are you okay?” I smiled at her speaking Russian. She often switched between the two, interchanging within sentences. I’d been around her enough to pick up on some of the terms, funnily enough she’d said that word so often, my understanding was immediate.

“Feeling a bit humiliated” My voice came out weak and slightly gravelly from the crying, her thumb immediately wiped the tears off of my cheeks, lingering afterwards.

“Don’t be. Everyone has their fears, you shouldn’t be embarrassed by having them. Okay? It just means you're human.” She patiently explained, sparking a question to leave my lips before realising.

“Do you have a fear?”

She smiled “mhm”

“Can I know what it is?”

She leaned in closer to me, lips hovering beside my ear so I could feel and hear her breathing quietly.

“Идиоты” She whispered, resulting in me clamping my hand over my mouth to limit the noise my laughter was making.

“There’s that smile I love.” She took my chin in her index finger and her thumb, her face once again, coming closer towards mine before our lips met in the middle, sharing a soft, quick kiss, distracting me from any embarrassment i’d previously felt.

________________

The movie had just finished, everyone was getting up and starting to clear up any mess they’d made, mainly popcorn that had fallen everywhere, Wanda and Vision being the main culprit, jumping at the scary parts had caused a popcorn avalanche near their seats.

Nat and I gathered our blankets and snacks we’d brought in, trying to ignore the slight tension hanging in the air, and just as we were about to walk to our bedroom, I felt a tap on my shoulder. It was Peter.

Rocking back and forth on his heels and fidgeting with his hands, he smiled.

“Hey, uh- miss Y/L/N. Miss Romanoff, sorry, I just wanted to come and make sure you were okay.” He rushed, clearly anxious to approach us considering the telling off Natasha gave everyone earlier.

“I’m okay, thank you Peter. You can call me Y/N by the way, ‘miss’ makes me feel old.” I chuckled, visibly seeing his shoulders relax at my response, he was really sweet, never wanting to get on anyone’s bad side. He’s a good kid.

“Sorry mi-,Y/N, sorry, I’ll remember for next time. That movie was pretty freaky, if there’s anything I can do to help, let me know.”

“I will, thank you.”

Feeling more relaxed, I made a slow but steady beeline for the bedroom, wanting to have cuddles with Nat and go to sleep, hopefully forget the movie ever happened. Soon enough, we were both changed into a vest top, I wore a pair of shorts and Nat wore a pair of sweats and we were in bed, facing each other with our legs tangled together, our noses bumping every so often.

“I love you” I mumbled in between kisses, eyes opening briefly to be met by her green orbs looking back at me.

“I love you more, Detka.”

A silence then overtook the room, only being able to hear the breeze outside and a slight whistle from where it was flying through the trees. I’d usually adore this, finding peace in the wind and the darkness, tonight however, it felt unsettling. All I could hear in my head was the soundtrack to the movie, picturing the bloody teeth and that creepy smile from earlier in my head.

“Love?” I nudged my girlfriend’s nose gently, hoping she was still somewhat awake.

“Mhmm?”

“Can you, can you possibly sing to me?” Her eyes fluttered open, a sleepy smile on her face, wrapping her arms tightly around me before humming a quiet melody, sending me into a blissful sleep.

By noon the next day, I had received apologies from everyone in the compound, a couple of bone crushing hugs from Thor and some complementary pancakes that Wanda had made with some help from Bruce, aprons on and covered in flour. Everyone tucked into their individual stacks, enjoying some lighthearted conversation, Nat taking the opportunity to press a small kiss to the back of my hand, I quickly returned the gesture. It was lovely.

Movie night was a rollercoaster, but at the end of the day, I was surrounded by the best people, and nothing would change that, not even the fear of clowns.

Though they’re still really fucking scary.

taglist: @the-dumbass-that-throws-knives

[starshipsofstarlord]

Princess | JJ Maybank

Warnings; jealousy, mentions of drugs, and use of drugs.

Find my masterlist here

She was rising through the ranks on figure eight, and soon, she would overtake the one, the only, Sarah Cameron. It was infuriating, no one had heard of this prissy girl in a while, and here she was, already beginning to replace the blonde.

“Uh.” Sarah groaned, noticing how even her brother was flocking over you, even Topper had returned to the dark side after his helpful stunt.

“What’s wrong Cameron?” JJ asked her, following her eyeline, and carrying his gaze along it, until he found the centre of her irritable - a group of kooks, her own.

“The princess is back in town.” She groaned, noticing how you walked through your entourage, oblivious to any of the pogues that resided on this side of the island. It was as though you didn’t hold a grudge against their species, but that was her thing, you were just trying to copy her actions.

Hell, for all she knew, you’d hook up with a southsider too, and attend the parties at the boneyard as though you were one of their own.

She knew her attitude towards you was petty, but she just couldn’t help it. You now had everything that she had lost, she was even stared down by her dad and step mother, both of whom were mildly disappointed in the side that she had taken within the whole ordeal.

“I thought that was you.” JJ noticed how her mood had turned sour, and he was aware that it was his duty to cheer her up. If John B returned with their drinks, and saw that his girlfriend was displeased, he would be the one to take the blame as it was his company that was keeping her from boredom.

“That girl.” She pointed you out, JJ’s eyes scanning every dip and curve, each mark and mole, upon your body, memorising every inch of- “is the kook. Used to have the mantle of princess before I did. Don’t dirty your hands with her Maybank, she’s a spoilt brat, and whatever she wants, she gets.”

“A kook? Not my type.” He assured her, the whole form of your beautiful being crumbling in his eyes, all because of what you essentially were. A golden finger, in the dirt of his home.

🏹

The Cameron’s house was large, but you smiled, knowing that you lived in one with a bigger foundation, and more floors. Material items were value on the island, it gave way to status.

“Hi Mr Cameron.” You greeted him, with a pristine smile that would knock him dead. Rafe was beside you, content with your obliviousness to the things that he had done.

His father had told him to find a rich, pretty thing. They were the least suspecting ones, too occupied with spending cash and dolling themselves up. It is what he himself had done, after he had worked his way up to kook status, but the wife he now had, well she was as devious and power hungry as him. They fit perfectly.

“Nice to finally meet you y/n, I’ve heard a lot about you, not only from my son but practically the whole island. Is it good to be back?” He shook your hand, noticing the small smile slip onto his son’s face.

“It’s great, nowhere is quite like home.” The hierarchy on Outer Banks was its most predominant feature, no where else quite had an order that lacked most of itself in the same way.

“I need to talk to Rafe here for a moment, would you mind waiting here?” He expectedly asked, and once more, you could only plaster on a false expression, and happily nod.

“Not at all.” Was your reply, and as soon as they had disappeared, you were left awaiting for their return. You plucked at the skin around your nails, and tapped your foot, trying to reduce the enveloping silence that made you feel small and anxious.

Another person entered the room, making you slowly spin to greet them. It was Sarah, and a look of worry crossed over her face, it was quite amusing. The Sarah Cameron, was concerned for you.

“Rafe isn’t a good guy.” She spoke slowly, thinking that you were interested in her older sibling. It made you quirk your eyebrow in surprise, you had never expected her to talk about her family to you, or at all in general. “You can do a lot better.”

“Don’t worry Sarah, I don’t want him, nor do I want to be the so called ‘princess’ of this wealthy establishment. I hate figure eight, it sucks. It’s boring, it’s just parties here, and parties there, but they’re all sophisticated and you have to dress nicely. Sure, the luxury is great, the expectations of washing your hair every day, wearing perfume that literally burns my eyes, and having to dress so- ugh, it’s just gross. You can take the throne back if you want, it’s not too comfortable, it squeezes me in all th wrong places.”

Your paragraph of speech left Sarah in shock, you had been faking it all along. The laughs were all pretend, the smiles were all forced, and she no doubt had one thing left on my mind. “Then why, out of all the kooks, are you hanging it with my brother?”

Nonchantly you shrugged, a sparkle flaring in your eyes. “He thinks he’s gonna get laid, and so until he realises that he isn’t, and he can’t touch this hot bod, then I get free weed.”

“Well played y/l/n, well played.” Nobody had used Rafe and had to give nothing in return, yet you had found the perfect trick.

“He also thinks I’m a virgin, sooooo, my contract is going to last a while, I suppose.” She almost laughed at that, she wondered how you had given him that impression in the first place. Before you had moved, she had seen you makeout and consentually grope countless guys, leading them to dark corners and your empty car.

It wasn’t something that she had ever admit, but for the first time in her life, she thought that you’d make the perfect friend. You sounded just like a pogue, but instead you were living the ‘high life’, and rolling in the cash and smokes that were thrown your way, with no charge.

🏹

JJ on instinct, creased his face up at the sight of Sarah leaving John B and the others at the boneyard, only to walk over to an intruder. She had told him that she didn’t like her, however her stride and smile supposed otherwise.

“Who’s that?” John B leant over his friend’s shoulder, watching his girlfriend interact with a stranger.

“The kook princess.” JJ informed him, spitting the name out of his mouth, glaring at the kook that had the nerve to once again, walk onto his side of his island. And not only that, but to invite herself to the party.

“She got a name?” John B asked, and that was when JJ realised, that he didn’t know it. Before you had moved, you kept to your side of the island, but the times were changing, with relationships and friendships between pogues and kooks beginning. All you wanted was to be accepted, and if they didn’t like the fact that you were born a kook, then that was most definitely their problem.

“Hey, I’m so glad that you could make it.” Sarah greeted you, you shyly smiled, still not familiar with her being so polite to you. You’d notice her cast you the stink eye on more than one occasion, and how she would speak about you at school in the time prior to your move away.

“I still don’t understand why you invited me.” You honestly said, uncertain by her intentions. If she had other motivations, then you could deal with them, she wouldn’t be the first one to try and challenge you for your position. And either way, you didn’t want it, it were only a weight on your shoulders, but some kooks wanted you to remain their royalty, and so by their reputation, you did.

You pulled a blunt from your shorts pocket, and lit it, inhaling slowly and awaiting an answer from the relaxant. It calmed you, and made the thoughts of being the only kook here, excluding Sarah, go away.

“I want you to meet my friends.” She spoke, and you nodded, more entertained by the smoke that rolled out of your mouth than her intentions. Her hand grabbed your own, and she began to drag you through the sea of people, until she reached a small fire pit, where four people were sat.

You already knew of them, John B being the one on your side of the island the most. It of course was because of Sarah, and her successful attempts to seduce him, and sneak him into her room.

“This is y/n.” She told them, and you didn’t notice the way JJ focused on the weed that hung from the clasp of your fingers. He was surprised by the consumption you had of it, and watched intently as you went in for another puff.

You weren’t just a kook, you were a stoner. Perhaps the two of you had something in common after all, maybe you weren’t this spoilt brat entirely.

🏹

“Pass me the goddamn lighter J!” You beckoned at the blonde, who held the red automatic match out of your reach. On instinct, you crossed your arms, and poured, causing the boy to laugh.

“Don’t do that, you look like a spoiled kook.” His words only earnt himself a glare, and so he reached down, plucked your blunt between his fingers, and lit it. He took a puff before placing it between your own lips. “Technically we just kissed.”

“Geez, I really am spoilt.” You rolled your eyes, as the pair of you stood out of the chateau, where it was the two of you alone. Everyone else was inside, watching a movie, and they didn’t want to get high off the fumes, instead they’d rather remember the ‘cinematic details’, as Pope put it.

“It was a joke Princess.” He rubbed your head, messing up your hair, but he knew that you didn’t care. Appearances weren’t your most entailed feature, you only dressed up to the nines to please your parents. But here, with him and the rest of your friends, you could be yourself. You weren’t a kook or a pogue, instead you were just y/n.

“You need to stop going on about kissing me Maybank, otherwise I might think that it’s something you actually want to do.” You smirked, noticing how his cheeks reddened slightly, and the normally confident male gulped.

“Well...” before he could say more, you lightly pushed him, but he soon grabbed you, and the blunt out of your mouth. “Maybe I do.”

“Maybe I want you to as well.” You flirted with him, eyes darting between where he was licking his lips, and the blunt that was gently held in the pads of his fingertips. “Tell you what, if I gift you with a kiss, I get my property back.”

“Princess you gotta stop that, you can’t call me your property, I’m a person too babes.” You groaned at that, he knew full well what you were speaking about, but he had to be a tease in every conversation that the pair of you had.

“Shut your mouth pogue.” Your words weren’t what shut him up, instead you grasped the fabric of his baggy, sleeveless shirt, and pulled his mouth to your own, your tongue instantly prying its way towards his own, breaking through the seal of his lips.

Distracted, he dropped the blunt, and cupped both sides of your face. He was in heaven, finally he had given into the kook, and vice versa. He was glad to have learnt your name, and everything that you had to offer.