#despite being 90% gold

[beardedhandstoadshark]

You ever think about how Wolf Link's weird square noodle hairdo looks the way it does not because it's a stylistic choice for wolves in that game (see white wolf/os), but because of the shadow beast tentacles

Because shadow beasts don't just kill their prey, but turn them into one of their kind

And Link would've also met their fate, was in the very process of meeting their fate, if it wasn't for the Triforce changing the curse into something lighter in every sense of the word?

Because I sure do

[loveshotzz]

bartender!eddie x fem!reader Eddie’s night.

🎵my man gives real love that’s why I call him killer, he’s not a ‘wham! bam! thank you ma’am!’ he’s a thriller.🎵

summary: After being stood up on a blind date, the cute bartender you’ve been ‘trying’ not to flirt with keeps you company.

word count: 12.6k

warnings: 90’s AU / 18 + no minors! /eddie is in his early 30’s, fingering, oral (f receiving), semi public smut (p in v), cream pie, dirty talk.

authors note: my love letter to the 90’s 💕after one month of brain storming and three weeks of writing here’s part one of Whatta Man! Eddie’s night. (This is a singular one shot. Steve’s night is part two, can you find the easter eggs for his night 😉)Thank you to my very talented friends who always brain storm with me and share ideas. This fun lil AU wouldn’t have happened with you. ily 💗 edit by @eddiemunsons-missingnipple

You didn’t want to go on this date. Not when your roommate set you up, and you certainly didn’t want to go when he picked The Foxy Lounge. But when Weather Man Mike predicted the first warm day after three months of bitter winter you’d take any excuse to wear your favorite dress. 

You’d been here before, always stumbling in after a night out with friends because they were the only 4am place in town. Those late nights turned to early mornings were more of a thing of the past now so when you got to the familiar chipped red door you didn’t recognize the bouncer standing outside. He has a head of honey colored hair that’s just long enough to run his fingers through. His toned frame sits pretty wrapped in a tight black tee and long legs covered in dark wash jeans tight enough for you to really have to focus on keeping  your eyes on his face. A freckle covered neck leads to a strong jaw and a chiseled nose. Leaning against the brick wall with his boots crossed at the ankles a toothpick twirls between his straight teeth.

The platform of your sneakers hitting the pavement as you come to a stop and the jingle of your power beads alerts him of your presence, hazel eyes going round like the moon in the sky. Straightening his posture he snatches the tooth pick out of his mouth, stuffing it in his back pocket. You swear you see a Tamagotchi tucked away as he clears his throat with a puff of his chest.

“I.D.?” 

Your lips twitch, the forced deep baritone in his voice isn’t fooling you, and you wonder if it fooled anyone when the signature beep of a Tomogatchi pet needing to be fed goes off in his back pocket. He coughs to try to cover the noise while you quickly pull what he needs out of your cross body. Holding it out for him to examine you look up with a glossed smile matching the one in the picture. Narrowing his eyes, you catch a glimmer of playfulness when he clicks on his flashlight. 

Examining it like it could be a fake, you bite back a giggle while he turns it around giving it one more once over before handing it back to you with a soft chuckle.

“Funny, we have the same birthday.” His voice comes out normal this time, soft and friendly just like you thought.

“Twins!”

A genuine smile lights up his face like the sign above your head, his boyish features coming out despite the stubble on his chin.

“Might as well call us the Olsen’s.” Throwing you a wink he pulls the gold handle to open the door for you. The sounds of Return of the Mack break through the hums of the street behind you. “Have fun tonight honey, be safe. If anyone bothers you, just come grab me okay? I’m steve.”

Your cheeks heat up at the endearment and you have to remind yourself that you’re here for a date. You catch a hint of his cologne when your shoulder brushes against his chest on your way in, the expensive scent making you dizzy when it hits your senses.

“I will, thanks Steve,”your words are shy when they come out, making his lips twitch in response. Nodding his head, you catch the tinge of pink on his skin before he closes the door with a small wave.

It's even louder inside with the drunk conversations battling for dominance against the music. Tugging nervously at the bottom of your dress you look around the bar for the vague description of this guy Craig your friend gave you. 

You scan the crowd a few times before your eyes catch the big brown ones of the bartender. The stool in front of him freeing itself at the same time your eyes connect, the corners of his plush lips pull up as he beckons you over with two heavily ringed fingers. The unruly dark auburn curls that hit just below his shoulders catch the low light behind the bar, the yellow glow softening up all his edges. 

Rocking back on your heels you pull the strap of your cross body closer, doing your best to collect yourself before you push through the crowd accepting his invitation. His smile widens, pulling up his stubble covered cheeks to reveal a set of perfect white teeth to you. The one you give him in return comes out a little shy as you plop down on the ripped vinyl that matches the red of the door.

Ink litters his arms disappearing under the frayed ends of his sleeves letting you know there was more under the tight fit of his worn faded black Metallica shirt. The two rips near the collar give you a glimpse of the chain wrapped around his neck. The scruff lining his jaw adds a few years from afar but from this close he looks your age. The silver hoop in his nose catches against the bright lighting under the bar like the rings adoring his fingers. Pulling out two empty shot glasses with a twirl he quickly fills them up with Jameson.

“This one’s on the house sweetheat, it��ll help make your date cuter.”  He winks with a sly grin, your stomach flutters with his full attention on you like this.

The glass is heavy in your grasp as you stare at the dark liquid with a faint grimace. His low chuckle catches your attention before the pop and hiss of the soda fills your ears. As if reading your mind he slides over a coke, letting you keep your pride by not having to ask for a chaser.

“How do you know I’m here for a date?” Raising a questioning brow, the sides of your lips twitch as you struggle to hold a straight face. “A girl can’t come to the bar alone on a Friday night?”

The chocolate in his eyes lights up at your playful banter, slinging a white towel over his shoulder he leans in, forearms pressing hard against the counter as he invades your space. The spice of his cologne and the burn of cigarette smoke joins with him and you find yourself sucking your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Are you telling me you’re available then?” Dropping his voice low enough to feel between your legs, you wished more than anything you had a different answer to give him.

The heaviness of his gaze has your cheeks warming, the intensity of the eye contact forcing your gaze away for a second as you clear your throat. Tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear you muster enough courage to meet his eyes again. 

“N-no unfortunately, you were right.” Exaggerating a heavy sigh, his confident demeanor never wavers despite his confirmed suspicions.

“Unfortunately is right, huh?” Winking, he pushes back leaving only the lingering scent of his cologne raising his shot in an offering of cheers. “To what could have been, baby.” 

A giggle bubbles past your lips when his fingers brush against yours meeting in the middle with a clink. Downing his shot like a professional, he’s left to watch the way you struggle with yours. Amusement is evident on his face while he watches the way your throat stays unwilling to open. Holding the alcohol in your mouth longer than anyone would want, it finally gives in letting the bitter liquid go down with a bite. Pushing the can of coke towards you with his knuckles, his laugh booms loud from his chest as you search for reprieve in the sweetness with desperation.

Chugging with abandon, you forget your surroundings for a second before your eyes meet his over the rim of the can and it’s almost enough to have you snort the rest of it all over yourself. 

Coming up for air you grumble a half assed “shut up” doing your best to try and fight the smile begging to spread across your lips as you wipe them with the back of your hand.

“Not a whiskey girl I take it?” Punctuating the ‘t’ harder than normal, his teasing falls on deaf ears when you get distracted at the way his thick fingers wrap around the shot glasses.

“Not a shot girl in general, I’d rather not taste the alcohol if I can help it.” Shrugging, you trace invisible patterns on the sticky quartz of the bar top with french tipped nails silently reminding yourself for the second time tonight you’re here for a date.

“So how’d you two meet?” He raises his voice so it comes out sickly sweet while a shaker and a lemon appears in his hands. Setting them down on top of the worn jagermeister logo that covers the drink mat he starts rolling the fruit against his palm.

“We haven’t met yet actually, a friend set us up.” 

Eddie’s movements freeze for a second, eyebrows furrowing together in a look of confusion as if that was the craziest thing that anyone had ever told him. He grabs the bottle of simple syrup adding more to what looked like it was going to be a sweet drink before he answers.

“Someone like you shouldn’t need to be set up, sweetheart.” He looks up at you from under the hood of his lashes quickly picking up on the effect he has on you.

He twirls another empty glass onto the counter top before he smashes the lid of the shaker on, not giving you a chance to respond he starts shaking it louder than you know is necessary. The bats tattooed on his arm dance across the muscles with the flex of every flick of his wrist.

“Really? Laying it on thick, huh?” Raising your voice enough to know he could hear you, he taunts you by cupping his free hand over his ear to make a show of pretending he can’t, mouthing a ‘sorry’ with a smirk. The laugh he earns from when he finally relents is the prettiest sound he thinks he’s ever heard. 

“Well I hope this ‘friend’ has a good vetting process. No less than three interviews or no dice.” He pours your drink with panache, like he’s putting on a show for you, like you’re sure he does with all the other girls.

Grabbing a straw he plugs one end with his index finger before he dips it into the slightly lighter liquid. The heat between your legs becomes almost unbearable when his lips wrap around the end tasting his creation with a low groan, his pink tongue pokes out to collect the sweetness left behind.

“I think, I think you’re gonna like this one. It’s an Eddie Munson original, I’m calling it "Wasting Love.” The roll of your eyes makes him bark out another laugh. The signs of the smoke you smell on him are more noticeable in this one’s rumble.

“I wonder what could have inspired it?” Biting your lip to hide your smile, you knew you shouldn’t be flirting with him while you waited for Craig, but you can’t help yourself. Besides, he was already ten minutes late.

“I think you know what inspired it sweetheart, I can tell you’re not just some pretty face.” Dimples poking through his cheeks, he finally takes notice of the glares from the customers filling up the bar. Everyone’s patience starting to wear thin while they waited for whatever this was to be over. 

“I gotta stop ignoring all the other people in here real quick, but I’ll be back for your review.” He throws you another wink and it has you shifting in your seat as he starts to walk away.

“Wait! I never opened a tab!” Calling after him as you reach for your purse, he tuts loudly, turning around to face you, continuing his path walking backwards. 

“You shouldn’t be paying for a thing tonight, gorgeous.” He waves his hand dismissively before his back is to you again giving his undivided attention to the bearded man who looked ready to murder the carefree metal head if he didn’t get his Bud Light in the next five seconds.

Trying not to get too caught up in someone that wasn’t your date you timidly bring the straw to your lips. Humming appreciatively when the sweetness hits your tastebuds you’re pleasantly surprised at how much you actually like it. Feeling bold enough to take a bigger gulp, you look around for Craig again. So lost in the little bubble you had been in with Eddie you didn’t realize how much more the bar had filled up since you arrived. A new kind of rowdy energy in the air — the low murmurs of conversation get loud enough to drown out Semi- Charmed Kinda Life.

Glancing down at your pink swatch watch, your date was now twenty minutes late. Turning around to check and make sure the lavender cross body you told him to look for was visible, you crane your neck around looking one last time. It’s easy to shrug off the sinking feeling of rejection when you turn back around to watch Eddie in his natural habitat. 

He moves behind the bar like he’s been doing it his whole life, like everything was muscle memory.  As if he could feel you staring he catches your gaze throwing you a smirk before he tosses a bottle of tequila in the air catching it with ease. Pouring it into four lined up shot glasses, the group of girls in front of him celebrating what looked like a bachelorette party with all their multi-colored hats and boas squealed with drunk delight. Your eyes hit the back of your skull in a hard roll when one of them bats their eyelashes at him with a hand on his arm.

Sucking down the rest of your drink, the slurping once you hit the ice is loud enough to annoy the guy next to you who shoots you a warning look over his shoulder. Mouthing an apology you push your empty glass away looking around the bar one more time. The guilt of flirting with Eddie starts to disappear when you look at your watch again and start coming to terms you were actually being stood up. Searching for his doe eyes again, your heart sinks when you find him this time.

Dimples in his cheeks again, he’s practically beaming at her. Their body language telling you this isn’t their first time meeting and how animated he is when he talks to her is like he’s known her for years. Gesturing wildly with his hands while she nods enthusiastically, something he says has her throwing her head back with a laugh loud enough you can hear it over the music. You huff through your nose, the sting of rejection sneaking its way back in. The reminder that he was just doing his job and you were here for a date, one that never showed up, slaps you right in the face.

Averting your gaze to spare whatever confidence you have left, your eyes find the bouncer at the front door. Inside the bar now with a hard glare set on his handsome face. His arms sit folded across his broad chest while his jaw clenches at the same time as the muscles in his shoulders flex. Steve looks pissed.

Interest piqued, you follow his line of sight despite it going in the direction of the bar you were trying to avoid. Somehow not surprised when your eyes land on her again, you notice Eddie has already busied himself with someone else. With his back towards both of you he fills two pints with Blue Moon, the uncomfortable look on her face couldn’t be missed. The greasy blonde hair on the man that was clearly invading her personal space told you he’d been drinking all day. The grimace on her pretty face says she could smell it on his breath too.

The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end when you see him grab onto her arm while trying to whisper in her ear. You feel yourself ready to stand up and help when she pushes him away, with the way the veins in her neck were flexing whatever she was saying to him wasn't nice. Shoving her hand in his face she storms towards the front door where Steve is waiting, looking seconds away from killing the man who followed her path out of the bar with a leer.

The scowl on her face softens instantly when she’s met with Steve opening the door, the glare on his face being replaced with a deep flush when you catch a “Thanks, Stevie” fall appreciatively from her lips.

SMACK

Jumping at the sound of metal hitting wood, Eddie’s dimples show themselves only this time they are for you as he leans forward on his arms again, eyes flicking towards the spot next to you. He pulls himself even closer when he notices no one new occupying the stool, making you search for friction with the fat of your thighs. 

“Penny for your thoughts, beautiful?” Flashing you his perfect teeth for the second time tonight the bruise to your ego already starts to disappear.

“I drank it without gagging, didn’t I?” Crossing your arms on top of the bar it's your turn to lean into his space and you swear you hear his breath hitch at your new boldness.

Licking his lips, your eyes greedily follow the path of his tongue. His smile stretches across his face even more when he notices, making no effort to move- unwilling to back down from the silent standoff you’ve challenged him too.

“‘I’ll have you know I take that as a very high compliment coming from you.” His breath fans across your cheeks from this close, mint and whiskey hitting your nose when he huffs a laugh. “Where’s Prince Charming?”

“Turns out there was no Prince, just an ugly old toad.” Tugging your bottom lip between your teeth, you look up at him through half lidded eyes, “Good thing I didn’t kiss him, huh?”

A low rumble shakes in his chest as he dares to lean in even closer, the tips of your noses almost brushing while the bubble you’d lost yourselves in reappears.

“Yeah baby, you can’t give those out to just anybody, they gotta be for someone special.” His voice is low, dripping with the kind of want you’d never had directed at you before. His eyes take in every inch of your face from this close while you try to keep up with his smooth tongue.

“Got anyone in mind, Eddie?” Doing your best to match his tone, his brows pinch together at the way his name sounds coming out of your mouth taking one last look at your lips before meeting your eyes again.

“Yeah, I know a guy actually. He’s a bartender with a great head of hair.” Wiggling his eyebrows when you snort, the front door swings open, breaking you two apart as the girl from before commands the room like a record scratch, silencing the bar for the first time all night.

“Eddie! It’s bad, Steve needs you!” The sheer panic in her voice is enough for the jealous monster inside you to stay at bay as Eddie pushes back on his heels.

An irritated sigh escapes him while he mutters ‘not a-fucking-gain’ under his breath, pinching the bridge of his nose before his eyes find yours. You jump a little when he grabs your hands, the warmth of his palms enveloping yours while he gives you a pleading look.

“Don’t - I mean, please don’t go anywhere. I’ll be back, I need to go save my buddy’s ass again. But I promise I’ll be right back, this conversation is too important to leave unfinished.” He flashes you that million dollar smile like chaos isn’t ensuing outside and all you can do is nod, signaling that you’ll stay put.

Hopping over the bar his loose fitting combat boots squeak over the counter top, the black jeans that were hidden from your sight somehow fit him even better than his shirt. Your gaze is shamelessly hungry as it follows him until he’s out the door. The scuffle outside leaking through the music with a blur of bodies outside. 

Too focused on the glimpse of Eddie’s towering frame stepping between the two guys to break up the fight, you don’t notice the person who walks through the unattended door until it shuts behind him with a thud. Ready to glare at whoever it is your eyes widen when you meet the ones belonging to who you can only assume is Craig. The burnt auburn hair he sports and the way he zero’s in on your purse confirms your suspicions. This was Craig, you're incredibly late and not even remotely as attractive as the bartender, date.

“Shit, shit, shit.” No matter how quickly you averted your stare, you knew it was too late, he saw you. Panic sets in while your brain goes a mile a minute trying to think a way out of this.

Looking around the bar for some sort of escape, the thought of ducking into the bathroom sounds like a winner but then the image of Eddie coming back and seeing you gone seeps into the forefront of your mind making you quickly toss that idea out the window. Turning to the people on either side of you who are too lost in their own conversations to notice your dilemma, you try to decide which one you could interrupt the most naturally. 

The couple on your right looks like they’re on a date going really well and the one on your left seems like two friends catching up. The tap on your shoulder is enough for you to make a split second decision, clearing your throat you spare the newly blossoming romance next you from your desperate antics, choosing to interrupt the friends who are reconnecting with a loud fake laugh.

“That’s when she told me- um excuse me do I know you?” Gruff and confused, the man closest to you looks at you as if you’ve grown two heads. First your loud slurping and now this? This plan was never going to work from the get-go.

Another persistent tap on your shoulder has you grasping for straws. You open your mouth to try to sell whatever this was one last time. 

“Umm excuse me?”  Craig’s voice comes out loud enough to cut you off and for the poor guy next to you to give you the final cold shoulder. Unable to ignore him any longer, you force yourself to turn around and face him head on. Kind of. 

Channeling your inner Alicia Silverstone you try to give him the best Clueless look you can muster and he returns it with an even more confused expression, clearing his throat.

“Hey, sorry I’m late. I’m Craig, Ariana’s friend. I think I’m supposed to be meeting you?” Shoving his hands in the pockets of his tan slacks, the maroon sweater he wears fits loosely over his thin frame, dirty black chucks on his feet, his look screams ‘I listen to Nirvana’.

“Umm, I think you have the wrong person? I wasn’t supposed to be meeting anyone here tonight.” It’s not believable in the slightest when the words leave your mouth, your less than confident delivery giving you away. The look on his face lets you know you’ve definitely been made

“Are you sure? I was told to look for the girl with a lavender purse.”  As if to prove his point he points to the exact one he’s talking about slung across your shoulder. He scoffs when you keep up with your charade, “I know I’m late but this is ridiculous.”

“A lot of girls have purple bags, Craig.” His name comes out dripping in venom, the need to get rid of him before Eddie’s return throwing any logic out the window. You needed to believe your own lie.

The sudden harshness has him raising his hands in defense, backing down a little under the daggers of your glare.

“Whoa, chill out, my bad. You just match the exact description I was given, that's all.”

Clenching your jaw in frustration because he just won’t give up, you try to hold your composure while your eyes flick towards the door in anticipation for his return.

“Well you’ve told me you were late twice already so she probably just left. Rude of you to keep her waiting honestly.” Narrowing your eyes at him, you know that he’s aware of exactly what you are doing but you don’t care anymore.

“Yeah, I’m sure that’s what happened, and not her being bitter I’m one measly hour late.” The way his words clip signal the rejection sinking in, a glare setting firm on his face.

It’s the stare down of the century before Eddie comes barging through the entrance with a loud huff and a clap of his hands. Cheeks red from yelling and hair slightly more wild than before. He checks to make sure you’re still exactly where he left you before he glances over to Craig for a split second not registering who he is. Hopping over the bar with another skid of his boots, he still manages to give you a lopsided grin when he gets to the other side. Hitting the top of the bar in a series of beats - he’s a ball of energy.

“Sorry to keep you waiting sweetheart, Steve’s lucky the girl he took a knuckle sandwich for has a first aid kit. Rick keeps saying he’s gonna get one but I have yet to see it. Want another cocktail?” Talking a mile a minute with the leftover adrenaline from the fight, he still doesn’t notice the way Craig watches the two of you until he catches how awkward you’re being. Eddie’s face hardens, the softness he was giving you disappearing. “Something I can help you with buddy?”

You don’t even have to look at Craig to know he’s puffing out his chest with a point of his chin addressing Eddie.

“Actually pal, maybe you can.” His tone makes Eddie’s eyebrows shoot up, a tested smile spreading over his lips while he lets Craig continue. “I was supposed to meet someone here for a blind date, I was told to look for a girl with a lavender purse exactly like this one. You haven't seen another girl with this exact same bag have you?” 

Eddie’s wide eyes meet yours, amusement filling the specks of golden brown as he picks up on exactly what’s happening. The corners of his lips twitch before he nods his head licking his bottom lip holding your gaze long enough to make you squirm before bringing his attention back to Craig with a low whistle.

“Oh yeah, I remember that hottie, man. It’s a shame you were late, she took off with this dude she met waiting for you. She didn’t stand a chance, though, honestly. I know the guy, he’s too smooth for his own good. Pretty good looking too. Can’t be leaving your girl unattended around him. Probably wouldn’t have worked out between you two anyway.” Eddie catches the roll of your eyes at his self indulgent story as you cover your mouth with the palm of your hand to hide your face splitting grin.

“Why don’t you walk away with some dignity. What’s that saying? There’s always more fish in the sea or some shit.” Eddie adds more salt to the wound, finally breaking Craig enough to give up.

“Whatever you say man, this bar is fuckin’ lame anyway. Who wants to drink to Third Eye Blind.” Grumbling his insults as he slinks away, he takes one last look at you and Eddie before his final exit with a flip of his middle finger.

Eddie’s stare is hot on your face, while you bashfully avoid his gaze keeping your eyes lingering on the door. When you finally dare to meet his eyes the shit eating grin on his face makes you groan, the buzz of your drink pulling a giggle out of you. 

“Eddie, don’t —“

“Well, well, aren’t you just a little heartbreaker, huh?” His teasing only makes your cheeks grow hotter as you try to hide your face from his view.

“Don’t you need to go attend to all the customers you left?” Your words come out muffled from behind your hands as you slowly pull them down just enough to uncover the fake glare you were sending his way.

“I’ve got my favorite one right here.” Voice dropping low with a smirk, he was right, you didn’t stand a chance.

“I haven’t paid for a single thing, you refused my money if you remember.” Bringing your hands down to fully come out of hiding, he bites his bottom lip when he can take in your features again.

“It’s no good here, baby, I could actually get arrested if I take it and then how would I be able to take you out to get pancakes after my shift if I’m behind bars?” Bringing his hands together in mock shackles and a pout, the chain wrapped around his wrist catches your eyes for the first time.

“You’re takin’ me to get pancakes?” Flirting like a love sick teenager, you even start to kick your feet under the bar.

“It’s the least I can do since you’re my fill in bouncer for the rest of the night.” Smirking, he nods his head to the man at the opposite end of the bar flagging him down with a twenty dollar bill. His eyes sparkling with something new now that he had you.

“Me? A Bouncer? I’m not intimidating in the slightest!” Your cheeks hurt from how hard you smile at his retreating form, the game of ‘playing hard to get’ becoming a thing of the past now.

“Sorry, you owe me, heartbreaker.” He shrugs like it’s out of his control before flashing you the same lopsided grin leaving you a mess of nerves from getting to spend the night with him.

The hours till close go by faster than you anticipate with Eddie topping off your drink any time you ask, the buzz from the alcohol is just enough to handle the growing intensity of his flirting. Now that the only obstacle in the way of each other was time, he was relentless.

Enjoying the game of chicken the two of you had started unconsciously playing, you stop noticing the clock. Every six customers earns you five —sometimes ten minutes of his time and he makes sure to use every second of those breaks as an excuse to lean in close, whispering in your ear, holding your face close every time you talk. He was getting off on the way he could make you shift in your seat and hide your bottom lip between your teeth when he got close enough for his lips to brush against your ear. Your fingers find excuses to wrap around his wrist when he invades your space, playing with his chain, you keep him close making sure to tilt your head just enough for him to catch a glimpse down your neck into the low cut of your dress.

The small hand on the clock above the door hits the three and it’s not until his breaks start getting longer and your touches are able to get a little bolder that you notice the murmur of voices over the music disappears. The few stranglers left sipping their last drinks of the evening are paying the two of you no mind despite the way he’s tucking your hair out of his way to trace the shell of your ear with the tip of his nose.

The realization that you’re finally about to be alone with him brings your nerves to a head and the need to check yourself over in the bathroom mirror becomes urgent. The flick of his tongue along your earlobe distracts you for a second as your head nudges against his when it tickles making a giggle slip past your lips.

“I gotta go to the bathroom, Eddie.” You inhale the scent of pine lingering in his shampoo, giving him one last nudge with your nose before hopping off the stool. He gives you his best puppy eyes as you get up to leave, pushing out his bottom lip when you tug your dress down.

“Please, I’ll be like three minutes.” You roll your eyes at him but the smile that lights up your face tells him you’re eating it up.

“I’ll be counting every second you're gone, baby.” Holding his hands over his heart for dramatic effect the man at the end of the bar snorts loudly ruining the moment. He earns an annoyed glare from the bartender, “Better hurry up and finish that shit old man, it’s closing time.” 

You hear him grunt in response to Eddie’s rude reminder before disappearing into the fluorescent lighting of the bathroom. Stickers and writing with permanent marker cover every inch of the dark crimson walls. The doors of the black stalls barely hang from their hinges, dents from many reckless drunk nights at The Foxy Lounge punch random spots into the metal. The bottom of your sneakers stick to the floor with every step to the mirror where more stickers and black scribbles line the surface including a girl named Leigh’s phone number with the note ‘for a good time call’ attached at the end leaving just enough room to see your face.

The space buns on top of your head are messy from Eddie nuzzling his beard into your hair all night. You try to salvage what was left of them by tightening the knots a little more before deciding it's a lost cause. He was probably just going to mess them up more anyway. The thought of Eddie’s hands being free to touch you in every way you’ve wanted all night has you taking a deep breath while you hold your own eyes in the mirror.

“It’s happening, you’re gonna have sex with him. You’re gonna fuck the super hot bartender who flirts like it’s his second language tonight and you’re gonna be confident about it okay? You hear me?” Pointing to yourself in the mirror, the determination in your stare is enough for your tipsy pep talk to work its magic.

Taking one last look at yourself with a nod of your head you pull open the bathroom door ready to take on the rest of the night. Only to stop in your tracks when you notice the stool that was occupied is now empty and every inch of Eddie is also in full view from where he stands in front of the jukebox. Your eyes are insatiable taking in his tall frame like this for the first time all night. 

You notice the giant chain that hangs from his belt loop this time, and there’s even more rips in his jeans than before giving you a peek at the pale skin hidden underneath. His shoulder blades move under the thin fabric of his shirt when he clicks his choice on the machine. Kiss Me by Sixpence None The Richer spills out from the speakers of the bar as he turns on his heels, the smirk that plays on his lips dares you to catch the hint with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

“Very subtle.” Crossing your arms as if to act immune to his charms, you know he sees right through your facade but he plays along anyway raising his big hands up in the air in mock surrender.

“It’s just one of my favorite songs, I don’t know what kinda ideas you got going on in that pretty little head of yours.” He takes a few more steps towards you slowly closing the gap, daring to be closer to you than he had been all night without a wooden bar separating you.

“Interesting, I wouldn’t have pegged you for a Sixpence fan.” Raising your eyebrow, you have to look up at him when he finally takes the last few steps to stand in front of you. 

“Why? Cause I’m such a tough guy?” His grin grows wider when he looks down at you catching the roll of your eyes while you uncross your arms opening your body up to him with a laugh. 

“I can’t stand you.” Your swat is flirtatious with your palm hitting his chest. He’s quick to catch it, using your hand as leverage to pull you closer, biting back his groan when a breathy gasp slips past your lips when he tucks you into chest. First your giggle and now this? He just knew you were going to sound so pretty falling apart for him.

“I think Craig would call that bluff sweetheart.” He gives you a minute to let his words sink in, throwing his head back with a loud laugh when you huff at him embarrassed. “I’m teasing, I’m teasing. He needed to be dumped, a girl like you deserves someone that's gonna show up when they’re supposed to.”

The sweetness of his words has you melt against him, the playful pull from before surrendering to his touch and you swear there’s hearts in your eyes from the way he looks down at you after saying something like that. 

“Thanks for tonight Eddie,” your voice is small when it comes out laced with adoration, and it’s his turn to get bashful making your favorite dimples come out again.

“No problem sweetheart, honestly it’s my fuckin’ lucky night.” Pulling your knuckles to his lips, he places a gentle kiss to the skin stretched over them before letting your hand drop, noting the disappointment on your face that you’re quick to cover up. 

“Wanna get some fresh air while I smoke before I close this place down?” 

——

Eddie somehow looks even better under the twinkling stars and pink fluorescent lights of The Foxy Lounge sign. The low hum of the electricity filling your ears as you lean against the brick of the building. His eyes are brighter out here, catching them with your own when he looks at you over the end of his cigarette.

He winks when you meet his pointed gaze, the flame of his lighter casting shadows that dance across the strong lines of his jaw, the orange glow highlighting the stubble that covers it. Batting your lashes at him, you push your hips off the wall playfully while he keeps his eyes on you through his entire first drag, only breaking contact for the split second he needs to blow the smoke he inhaled away from you. 

“Don’t look at me like that.” His words come out like a warning before he takes another hit.

“How am I looking at you Eddie?” Biting your lip to hide your smile, you make sure to say his name extra sweet just how you figured out he likes. He shakes his head with a low chuckle blowing more smoke into the clear night sky. 

Despite only taking two drags, he flicks the barely smoked cigarette to the side before closing the distance with a few steps leaving him crowding you against the building. Your chest brushes against his with every shallow breath. Getting lost in the darkening amber inside his eyes, the calloused tips of his fingers catch against the soft skin of your chin. The pad of his thumb pulling the velvet of your bottom lip from between your teeth.

“Like you want me to kiss you.”

Ducking his head down he nudges your nose with his, the heat of his breath fanning against your open mouth. His eyes go from yours back down to your glossed lips silently begging for your permission.

“I think it was you that was hinting at kissing me earlier.” Pushing up on your tiptoes, you smile against him when your lips just barely touch. 

“Oh? You think that’s what I was doing hmm?” Asking the question he already knows the answer to, his tongue licks against your top lip as your hands find the material of his shirt, fisting as much of it as you can before yanking him down to collect his lips with an eager mouth, giving up winning whatever game this was. 

You swallow his moan when your tongues meet in the middle battling for dominance, teeth scraping, you taste the few puffs of tobacco still lingering on his taste buds as his muscle massages against yours. Sliding his knee between your thighs, he smiles smug into the kiss when your hips search for friction against the denim.

He breaks away from your mouth long enough to start trailing wet kisses down your jaw, the rough hair on his chin rubbing your skin raw as he starts nipping and sucking bruises along your neck. Biting hard enough at your pulse point to have to soothe it with his tongue after the mewls he pulls from you are enough to drive him insane.

Your fingers tangle into the curls at the nape of his neck, giving his roots a pull while you turn your head, opening more of yourself to him. Taking your silent invitation he nips at the dip of your collar bone before lifting his head to press his forehead to yours. 

“I gotta close up baby, but then…”rubbing his hands up your curves with a low groan he squeezes at the plush of your hips before finishing his sentence, “I think I promised you pancakes.”

Nodding your head because words are stuck at the tip of your tongue, he grabs your cheeks with a strong grip, smushing your lips together before stealing one last kiss.

——-

Eddie doesn’t give you the attention you’ve grown accustomed to all night when he starts the process of actually cleaning the bar. Your body still buzzes like a live wire from the drinks and the kiss outside. He’d been counting his tips with his back to you for the last ten minutes and you were growing impatient for more of him. You needed it. 

Counting the last bill he finally turns around and your thighs press together when you get to see his face again. Shifting in your seat when his eyes barely meet yours, he makes his way to the other end of the bar. Pushing yourself up to lean forward with puckered lips, he ignores your advances passing by without so much as a glance in your direction. Huffing when you plop back in your seat, he flips the knob starting to wash his hands in the mini sink with his back to you again. Your foot taps against the metal of the stool as you watch him grab the scratched up red bucket hanging below and a fresh rag quickly replacing his hands with it to fill up.

You wonder if he can feel your stare when he adds the soap, taking his time while he spins the rag in the steaming water, he starts ringing it out. Arms flexing and suds spilling over his knuckles, you were gonna lose your mind if you didn’t get your hands on him soon. 

He makes big swipes as he starts working his way towards you, keeping his eyes so focused on his task you’d think you were invisible if it wasn’t for the smirk that was getting impossible for him to hide. It only grows bigger when he stops in front of you, adding a low hum to his charade purposely wiping around the outline of your hands that were splayed out on the counter ready to push yourself up again. 

“Eddie - c’mon!”  

You’d be embarrassed if it wasn’t for the laugh that falls easy from his chest when he finally looks at you. His face softens and his eyes darken when he catches your angry pout, your fingers are quick to find his free ones making him tsk at you but he doesn’t pull away.

“My hands are wet baby.” He knew you didn’t care and the teeth showing in his wide grin told you he didn’t either.

Giving into your persistence like it hasn’t been a fight to keep his hands to himself this whole time, he leans forward brushing his nose with yours before nudging it against your cheek so your lips just barely touch. When you go to close the space he pulls back just enough to tease, a small whine escaping you at his games.

“What’s got you so needy, huh?” His words are whispered as he presses with the slightest pressure before pulling back again. “I didn’t kiss you good enough outside, you need more?”

“Please.” Your cheeks burn when you hear how your voice sounds, but his grip on your fingers tighten and a low moan breaks through his front at how desperate you sound just for a kiss.

“Gotta give my girl what she needs.” Your brain gets stuck on the words ‘my girl’ taking you a minute to realize he was finally giving you what you want.

It’s slower than outside, he’s taking his time with you this time. Untangling his fingers from yours, his hand comes up to wrap around the side of your neck. The water feels good on your skin as the pad of his thumb starts rubbing soft lines under your jaw while his tongue swipes at your bottom lip looking for more. You don’t give into his advances on purpose, keeping your mouth closed to get him back for all his teasing you feel his smile grow against your own.

Expecting him to stop and surrender, he only doubles down. Catching your top lip with his bottom, he pulls away just enough for you to open your eyes. God, you wished you kept them closed. The brightness from outside had turned them into nothing but black leaving no trace of the specks of brown from before. The knowledge that he was just as affected by all of this as you sends you reeling. Toes curling inside your sneakers.

“Whining over here for me to give you what you want, and here I am baby, and you’re playing hard to get.” Nipping at your bottom lip he meets your heavy lidded gaze again, “Gonna let me give you what you want?”

He barely lets you finish nodding before he’s on you, the hunger from outside coming back as he leans over the bar to deepen the kiss like you’d been begging him for. Opening your mouth for him without hesitation when he asks for permission again your tongues meet lazily, exploring each other like you didn’t get a chance to before. Pushing up again eager to get more of him he pulls back leaving you breathless with spit slick lips.

Despite the way his chest heaves trying to catch his breath, he does his best to play it cool, smirking when you have no shame chasing for more.

“I gotta finish closing up.” He gives you one more chaste kiss before he starts wiping the rest of the counter down. 

Jutting out your bottom lip into a pout, he laughs, throwing out a ‘you’ll survive five minutes baby.’

You leave him alone doing your best not to distract him, despite how much your fingers itch to have him close again. Grabbing the money from the register and the receipts for the night he disappears back into what you could only assume was Rick’s office. When he pops back out he looks a little more relaxed.

“Just gotta wipe the bottles down and then I’m getting the prettiest girl the best pancakes in town.” Clapping his hands together with a rub of his palms, he grabs another rag.

You were starting to hate pancakes. Not that you didn’t want them, you just wanted him more.

“Hey Eddie?” Trying to hide your ulterior motives in the sweetness of your voice, his eyes meet yours almost instantly and they narrow just as quick.

“Yes, sweetheart?” Setting the rag down he leans forward with his palms on the bar he gives you his undivided attention. An intimidation tactic. Unable to help yourself, your eyes trace up the ink covering his arms.

“Teach me how to make that drink?” Looking up at him from under your lashes, you see something flash across his face, fingertips digging into the countertop after the question leaves your mouth.

“Wasting Love?” 

“I mean, I wouldn’t call it that now, would you?” Laying it on thick, a slow smile spreads across his face. He saw what you were doing and he was going to fall into your trap willingly.

“Why don’t you come back here then, we’ll make our own.” His voice comes out low, his pupils taking over all the brown, pretty white teeth baring themselves at you.

His gaze is predatory when he watches you jump from the stool, the exaggerated sway of your hips keeps his eyes trained on the curve of your waist as you make your way into his space for the first time all night. Leaning against the back counter, his legs are spread wide leaving little to the imagination on how worked up you had him. His eyebrows raise when he sees the automatic press of your thighs at the sight. It wasn’t fair, you were trying to seduce him, not the other way around. He wasn’t even trying.

As if on cue the jukebox that had been left to play all night clicks, Ginuwine’s Pony pouring out of the speakers as he licks his lips unashamed at the way he’s drinking all of you in like this.

“Gonna teach me how to make something sweet, Eddie?” Trailing a finger along the bar while you close the distance, you drag out the ‘e’ at the end of his name just enough to get him to groan.

His hands grab your waist squeezing just hard enough to feel his strength before using it to pull you flush against him. The material of your dress doing nothing to hide how hard he is pressed into your ass. His lips trace the shell of your ear, the heat of his breath tickling your neck as you push back into him searching for more. The stubble on his face rubs rough against the soft skin of your cheek as he punctuates each word with a roll of his hips.

“The sweetest, baby.” 

You bite back your moan when his nose trails up your neck, his lips just barely grazing the warmth of your flesh before they settle back against your ear. You hold onto the wood of the bar in front of you when he hums low, feeling it deep in your core. His calloused fingers start a path up the bare skin of your thigh hiking up your dress when they catch the hem.

“Tell me,” your eyes close when his nose is pressed to your temple as he speaks, “Do you like cherries, baby?” His tongue catches your earlobe sucking it into his mouth, grazing it between his teeth when he lets it back out.

Your knees almost buckle at how good everything feels, the slow rock of his hips never stopping as he plucks at the lace trim of your underwear. 

“Y- yeah, I love cherries,” you whimper when his palms lay flat on the outside of your thighs, the cool metal of his rings biting into your skin when he squeezes at the fat working his way back up.

“Of course you do, pretty.” His thumbs hook the sides of your underwear, “You’re just so sweet all the time, huh?” Despite the need for friction, you spread your legs for him wondering if he can hear the way your lips pull apart sticky, arousal coating the inside of your thighs.

He chuckles soft in your ear praising you with a ‘so sweet’ before giving them a tug, letting the red lace fall to the floor. Keeping his hands on your hips, he presses himself against you hard enough to have the heels of your sneakers pick up off the ground. A low ‘fuck’ slipping out from under his breath when you whine a little.

“Red lace? Was Kurt gonna get lucky or was this just a ploy to get me all along, sweetheart?” Your cheeks burn at his question, his low chuckle tickling your ear when he hears you huff out an annoyed breath. “‘Cause if that’s the case all you would’ve had to do is walk through that door on any given night.”

He grinds himself against you one more time, but you can really feel him this time and it makes your legs shake.

“Are we gonna make this drink or do you wanna keep talking about Craig?”  The shake of your voice doesn’t go unnoticed despite trying to be sharp with him but the grip on your waist still tightens at the mention of the other man’s name

“Sure we can, if that’s really what you wanna do.” His words taunt you but with one hand holding you against him the other flips a clean cocktail glass onto the bar top with ease, like he wasn’t rock hard digging into your back.

Reaching around, his hand trails up the front of your thigh sending goosebumps across your heated skin. A shiver runs down your spine when he dares to dip between your legs inching his way towards where you want him most.

“We better not mix liquors so why don’t you be a good girl and grab the whiskey for me.” His lips brush against your ear with every word, his hand never faltering on their path even when his fingertips meet your slick folds. Feather light, he traces along your slit, not daring to break the barrier yet. Brain hazy with want you don’t even comprehend what bottle you reach for, blindly grabbing for whatever was in front of you.

“That is tequila, sweetheart. Tsk, tsk, tsk are you even listening to what I’m saying? Or are you too…” Before he finishes his sentence he pushes his index finger past your entrance, your warm walls wrapping tight around his digit, “…distracted?”

Your head lulls back against his chest, your eyes closing when he pushes two knuckles deeper. Your needy whimper makes him kick up again making you grind your ass against him in response. Licking your lips, you try to collect yourself only chasing for more of his finger once. 

“N-no, I can do it.”  Determined to prove him wrong, you focus just long enough to grab the Jameson bottle, “What’s next?”

He hums in approval while his smile grows against your skin. Deciding to indulge in your stubborn game still, he curves his finger enough just to make you gasp his name.

“Are we keeping this simple, or do you want something a little more—” Adding a second finger, you stretch easily for him now, dripping down his hand, “Complicated?” 

You shudder, a moan slipping past your lips while your grip on the bottle tightens so much you're scared it’ll shatter. Fuck, you gotta keep it …

“S- simple - oh.” His thumb finds your clit applying just enough pressure to have your mouth fall open and your brows to knit together, and just as quick as he’s there, he’s gone. 

Pulling himself free, he tries his best to ignore the way your pussy tries to suck him back in, your body begging him for more. You whimper at the loss, your eyes opening to remind you where you are.

“I’m gonna need both hands to do this, baby.” His fingers shine with your slick when he wiggles them for show, stepping back just enough for you to see the grin on his face but not enough to get out of your personal space. 

Grabbing his wrist, his eyes go dark when he realizes what you’re about to do. Gaze turning half lidded when your mouth opens, huffing out a deep breath when your tongue flattens against the pads of the two fingers that were just buried inside of you. Wrapping your lips around them, your arousal is tangy sweet hitting your taste buds.

Hollowing your cheeks as you suck them clean, you watch the confidence drain from his face, eyes rolling in the back of his head at the sight. The blunt ends of his nails dig through the soft material of your dress and he starts rutting into you with a little more force when you slide your tongue between each knuckle.

“Jesus christ,” his voice is strangled, words coming out through gritted teeth when you let him go with a loud pop.

“Now you can use both hands,” you say innocently, like you didn’t just suck them clean. You let his fingers tug at your bottom lip before dropping his wrist.

He fists a handful of your dress, a low growl rumbling from his chest getting a taste of his own medicine. Licking his lips, his eyes narrow at you before his teeth start to show, mischievous in the low light.

“Well if we want this drink cold, we need to fill this shaker with ice.” Just like the glass, he flips it on the counter one hand never leaving your waist despite his claim. 

Pressing his lips to your ear again, he makes sure to let his breath linger a little before he talks, enjoying the goosebumps that appear from such a simple touch.

“Fill it up for me, baby?” Your thighs clench at the deep rasp in his voice, both of his hands finding a home spread out on your thighs.

Nodding your head you slide open the silver metal door of the ice chest below you, bending over more than you needed to to scoop it up into the shaker. He groans loud when you press into him like this, his fingers making quick work to flip the back of your dress up. 

“Look at you, so fucking messy for me and I’ve barely touched you.” Grabbing a handful of your ass, he ruts into you, the rough denim hitting your clit in a way that has you moaning his name.

He laughs quietly at your neediness flipping your dress back down when you straighten out. Chests heaving in time with the other, neither one of you was ready to back down. Not yet.

“Might need to unzip those pants.” Looking over your shoulder at him you fake a pout, “Feeling a little strained back there handsome.”

Smugness dripping from the smile on your face, he raises his eyebrows at you in a challenge. 

“Since you wanted something simple sweetheart, we just need two more things.” One hand snakes its way back between your legs, squeezing at the inside of your thigh before he lets you go for the first time since you set foot behind the bar.

Craning your neck so you could follow him, you find him bent down grabbing lemon juice from the mini fridge under the shorter back counter. Shutting the door with his foot when he stands up, he throws a wink your way when he grabs the simple syrup.

Setting the bottles in front of you he steals a quick kiss that leaves you wanting more before he grabs the small tub of cherries from the fridge he forgot his first go around.

“Okay, so you’re gonna grab the Jameson, and I want you to pour it out to the count of three for me then cut it off.” He returns to his place behind you, his large hand swallowing yours when it shadows your movements.

Your pour is shaky when he counts low in your ear, nuzzling his nose in your hair calling you a good girl after each successful addition to the simple concoction.

“Alright, now you’re gonna shake it as hard as you can angel.” His hands squeeze your hips for encouragement.

Doing as he says he pulls you against him even harder when your arms start to go wild. Your chest bounces with each movement making you giggle and you almost don’t hear the hitch in his breath at the sight. 

He helps you by putting the strainer over the rim of the glass when you’re ready to pour. Mumbling soft words of praise while he nibbles at your ear lobe. The drink is much lighter than the one you had all night, the dark orange turning lemon as the white foam fizzed on top.

“I think I could take your job.” You smirk reaching for the cherries to top it all off. 

“You think you could take my job?” He snorts incredulous, watching you unwrap the plastic wrap from the small tub dropping three cherries into the already very sweet cocktail.

“Absolutely.” Grinning while ignoring his stare you reach for another cherry, “No doubt in my mind.” You grab the fruit between your teeth, finally meeting his eyes as you pull the stem, relishing in the burst of sugar and grenadine that erupts against your tongue.

“Tough luck princess, unless you know how to tie that cherry stem in a knot with your teeth, no bar in this town is gonna touch you.” Grabbing his own cherry, he dangles it in front of your frowning mouth for you to bite. Obliging him with it bumps your bottom lip you tug gently, taking the fruit before chewing slowly while he sucks the stem once before it disappears in his mouth.

“I’m calling your bluff now. No one knows how to actually do that.” Daring him to prove you wrong he mutters a ‘watch me’ between his working teeth.

You don’t lose focus on the way his hand on your waist starts to wander, the blunt ends of his nails scratching against the fat of your thigh while his tongue ties the stem like it’s easy. Jaw flexing with each twist of his tongue before he pushes it out to show you, a pleased look on his face when the small knot in the middle comes out perfectly placed. 

Swiping it off his tongue with the fingers that were inside you minutes ago, you wonder if he can still taste you when he sets it next to your drink satisfied by the way your jaw drops.

“How do you think I got this job? I’m more than just a cute face.” The touch of his hands grows bolder when they start working their way up your dress, a thickness in the air that wasn’t there before filling your lungs.

“That’s quite the skill set you have there Mr. Munson,” your giggle is breathless, your eyes going from his down to his lips as you try to play it off.  

“I can do more than that with my tongue sweetheart, if you wanna find out.” His nose nudges against yours, the smirk on his face making you sweat when his fingers trace up your wet folds again.

Surrendering instantly, you forget all about the drink the two of you made nodding without hesitation the desperation for him all night finally taking over.

“Yeah?” His voice breaks when his thick fingers push into your entrance again feeling just how worked up all his teasing had you.

“Please - Eddie,” the pad of his thumb finds your clit again making you beg, “Fuck.”

“Asking me so sweet, how could I say no to you?” Murmuring against your lips, he finally gives in and kisses you. Wet and sloppy he only does it long enough to take your breath away before dropping to his knees.

His big hands on your hips angle you to face forward, flipping your dress up over your ass again. The air of the bar is still hot against your folds, arousal dripping down your thighs, you’re fully exposed to him now. You hear him suck the skin of his teeth at the sight, a ringed hand coming down just hard enough on your right cheek to make it jiggle before both hands palm the fat.

“I can’t believe you were gonna let anybody else but me have this pussy. Should be a punishable offense.” Pulling your cheeks apart to expose more of you to his hungry eyes, he pushes at the small of your back signaling for you to bend over more for him.

He moans loud enough to make you jump when you listen to his command, even you can hear the sound of your lips pulling apart for him. 

“All this for me, baby, fuck, you spoil me.” He wastes no time burying his face between your folds, his talented tongue collecting your juices before finding your clit. The rough hair on his chin rubbing your sensitive skin raw as he shakes his head from side to side. 

Squeezing your ass to pull you closer to his face when you try to run away, he sucks your bundle of nerves harder when he gets you back to where he wants you, dipping his nose into your entrance every time.

He does the motions he would do when he ties the cherry stem into a knot against your clit, a strangled moan ripping from your throat when he does it again.

Your hands find purchase on the top of the bar, eyes closed tight while you see white behind your lids. Your nails dig into the wood when his tongue flattens, the lewd squelching of your arousal filling your ears when he pushes his face so deep between your legs you aren’t sure if he can even breathe. The moan that rumbles through his chest and vibrates to your core tells you he doesn’t care. Wrapping his lips tight around your clit he sucks even harder, not caring when your legs start to shake from overstimulation. 

“Eddie, Eddie, I’m gonna - fuck!” His name comes out long and drawn out when you fall apart on his tongue. Relentless, his teasing never stops, his hands holding you up while your body starts to shake. Humming low in satisfaction against your cunt.

“I n- need, I need…” willing your eyes to open, your vision’s blurry from how hard he made you cum. Pulling away with a loud smack of his lips, he palms your ass cheeks before craning his neck to try and get a good look at you.

“What do you need, baby?” He nips at the curve of your right cheek before pressing his face to it, dazed from getting what he’s wanted all night completely content.

“I just, I just need you to fuck me,” you don’t recognize the choke in your voice when you whine for him. Whine for more.

“Jesus christ.” His words tickle against your skin when he groans, kneading the soft flesh of your ass one more time before standing up. 

His hands are on your hips before you can fully register the change in position, spinning you around and lifting you up he sets you on top of the counter behind the bar. The one where drinks aren’t served and the one that’s low enough for Eddie to slot himself perfectly between your legs. 

Eyes blown black while his beard and nose ring shine with your slick, his lips part - swollen and pink from pulling your first orgasm out of you. Bangs clinging to his forehead, his hair is a wild mess on top of his head from your hands. The confident air about him is gone, replaced with nothing but the need to have you. Snapping out of your daze, you’re quick to find the metal of his belt buckle.

His forehead presses to yours, while he watches the way your dainty fingers work the leather out through the loop. The white tips of your nails catch his eye when you undo the button of his jeans and his cock twitches at the thought of them pumping him for all he’s worth.

He hisses when you push the denim down his hips, his hard dick springing out to smack against his shirt that you immediately wish wasn’t there. Precum leaks from the angry looking pink tip while your hands fist the hem of the worn cotton, silently begging him to get rid of it. The big vein that follows the curve of his length makes your mouth water as he obliges your pleas, ripping his shirt off and throwing it somewhere you’d have to find later. 

You’re able to really take all of him in like this, his chest is heaving covered with just as many tattoos as the rest of him, the silver chain you’d peeped earlier hanging right in the dip between his pecs. Your eyes follow the dark patch of hair that leads to his cock, long with the kind of girth that you know is going to be a stretch, a strangled whine bubbles out of you at the sight while your thighs spread begging for him.

“God, I want you so bad,” you whine wrapping your legs around his waist, you pull him even closer giving into your animalistic instincts. 

“I know baby, me fuckin’ too.” He pumps his cock a few times groaning loud, squeezing hard at the base before pressing the head between your dripping lips. Mesmerized at how they wrap around his tip, his precum mixes messy with your arousal making lewd noises as he sweeps it through your folds.

Body shaking every time he hits your clit, you finally hook your ankles growing impatient when he teases your entrance.

“Fuck. Me.” You get out through gritted teeth, the lopsided grin he’d been giving you all night turns cocky when he pushes the tip in, your head lulls back at the invasion, the silk of your walls desperate to start sucking him deeper.

“Not so sweet now are you, huh?” Pushing himself all the way in, his rough thatch of pubic hair hits your clit when he bottoms out. His confidence falters for a second when a deep moan rips through his chest at the feeling. “So fuckin’ tight baby - shit.”

Your nails dig half crescent moons into his inked skin while you adjust to his size, his nose skimming against your cheek while he whispers how good you take him when your walls start to milk him, your body letting him know it was okay to finally move.

“Feel so good, Eddie, fuck - so good.” Your hips start a slow rock, feeling every ridge and curve of him. Your dress sits rucked up at your waist giving a perfect view of the way you take him, and it’s even better than what his imagination had come up with all night. 

He lets you use him for a minute, big hands resting on your waist — content with just watching the way you coat his cock with everything you have left over for him from the first time he made you cum. 

“That feels good, huh?” Cooing at the way your brows knit together and your mouth falls open, he picks up the pace, taking control. 

Pulling you all the way to the edge, his strokes get deeper, the tip of him hitting the spot that you know Craig would have never found. He pulls his cock out half way, relishing how your velvet walls try to keep him in place, he holds his composure before pushing back in, filling you to the brim. Addicted to the way it makes you gasp his name and arch your back, your body asks him for more when you’re too cock drunk to get the words out.

The straps of your dress start slipping down your shoulders with every thrust, your breasts bouncing just begging for his attention. His cock twitches inside you, it's almost too much. Greedy for more despite fighting the urge to cum, he tugs the front of your dress down to reveal a matching bra to the panties on the floor. Hips stuttering for a moment he growls at the reminder of your date before tugging the lace down, your nipple pebbling instantly for him before he takes it in the heat of his mouth. 

Pushing yourself closer, needing more, your hands find their way to bury themselves in his curls, holding him close. You needed him close. His tongue flicks at your sensitive bud and it makes you suck your bottom lip between your teeth. Your hips finding a way to match his strokes, reigniting the flames deep in your gut. God, he was gonna make you cum again.

He grunts around your breast, spit dripping down your soft skin from his ministrations while the snap of his hips start to get harsher and you know he’s nearing his end. He lets your nipple go with a loud pop before his hand comes up to grip your chin, his lips finding yours in a frantic mess of teeth and battling tongues.

The wood creaks underneath you from the force of his thrusts and the bounce of your ass to meet them. Mouths tangled, you swallow each other's ragged breaths, both of you desperately searching for your end when his fingers find your clit. Rubbing circles with just enough pressure to have your body start to shake against his, he nips at your bottom lip grunting when he feels the way it makes you flutter around him.

“Come on baby, give me another one. Be my sweet girl again and tell me how good I make you cum.” His fingers slip against your clit, fingers wet from how worked up he had you but his words are enough to have your world stop for a second.

“Eddie, Eddie, Eddie, Ed-“ Going blind behind your closed eyes he coaxes your second orgasm out of you with a silent scream falling onto his turned up lips. Proud of his work, his hips start picking up their pace inching closer to his own release he’d been fighting off since going down on you. 

“God, - fuck I’m close - where d-do you-?” Sweat drips down his forehead while he struggles to find his words, his impending orgasm making him short circuit.

“Inside, shit - please, I need it, Eddie.” Still needy and barely coming down, your legs around his waist tighten their hold, locking him in place while you use the last of your strength to help get him there. 

“Whatever you’re doing - holy shit , Jesus - I’m cumming, I’m cumming.” His hips press hard against yours when his cock twitches, spilling warm inside your greedy walls that don’t stop asking him for more. His face hides in your neck, the heat of his breath fanning against your sweat kissed skin while his body shakes with his release.

The roll of your hips never stops, just slowing enough to make him shiver after he starts softening, spent inside of you. You know there’s a mess starting to drip but neither one of you has the energy to move just yet. His lips start leaving small kisses along your neck, nose nudging against the space behind your ear and you can feel his smile against your cheek before he finally lifts his head up. The brown in his eyes return to a warm auburn like before when they meet yours.

“Rick is gonna fucking kill me if he ever finds out what happened on this counter tonight.” Rolling your eyes, you snort at his joke before shoving against his chest.

“You’re telling me you don’t fuck all your cute customers behind the bar, Eddie?” Batting your lashes at him, he squeezes your hips with a smirk. 

“Only, the really, really cute ones. I take them to get pancakes at IHOP around the corner, too.” Something shifts in his eyes and you think for a second you might see self doubt in them for the first time all night, “That is, if they still want to.”

“Well lucky for you, I only let bartender’s from The Foxy Lounge take me out.” Nudging your nose against his, your smile touches his lips.

“Sweetheart, you know I’m the only bartender here right?” Grinning like someone who just won the lottery, he quickly gets rid of the space between you, kissing you like it too.

---

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[biceratops7]

I’m gonna SCREAM-

We’ve already established as a fandom that Metatron could teach a masterclass on gas lighting, but I wanna talk about how he specifically validates the things Aziraphale cares for while simultaneously devaluing them under the surface.

First off, this moment?

Tells us everything we need to know. It sets the scene for exactly the games Metatron is playing. He makes Muriel feel important while openly insulting them (flat out calling them stupid), aka seamlessly reinforcing the idea that they’re less than to both them and anyone else in the room. He knows he can get away with this easily, he knows that Muriel, lonely, overlooked little Muriel, will be completely distracted by the fact that someone so important is taking an interest in them.

This is already horribly clever, but then later on you realize it’s doing even MORE heavy lifting when he appoints Muriel to run the bookshop. “See? What’s important to you is what’s important to me! I’ve graciously taken the time to ensure your beloved shop is looked after by Muriel. You know, the dim one!” …let’s suffice it to say he’s ensnared too birds with one net for this one, and that a pattern is already starting to arise.

So when Metatron says Gabriel came to Aziraphale because he’s a “natural leader” and “doesn’t just tell people what they wanna hear”? Yah he’s full of shit. Aziraphale struggles with his sense of purpose when he doesn’t have someone or something guiding him, and for thousands of years he’s been terrified of sharing his true feelings and opinions to 90% of people he’s known. Completely just trying to butter him up. Wanna know the real reason Gabriel seeks asylum with Aziraphale?

Exactly this. Gabriel just says so point blank. It’s not because Aziraphale is this person for him, it’s because despite knowing nothing, he has this instinct that Aziraphale is the only one who can possibly understand why Gabriel did what he did. He is, I mean as far as we know, the only other angel who has fallen in love. (In general, let alone with a demon.)

But nope, can’t have that. We can throw the promise of restoring Crowley in the mix to sweeten the pot, but we can’t acknowledge why he’d want that so badly in the first place. So now it’s cause they work so well together. We can praise the angel for the fallen archangel Gabriel himself coming to him protection and guidance, give him a gold star. But we couldn’t DARE imply that it was by virtue of Aziraphale’s courage to choose earthly love over heavenly. How Gabriel didn’t need a leader, but a friend who’s truly known the joys of adoring that “particular person” and the pain of needing to hide it.

Cause then Aziraphale would start getting crazy ideas, like that his silly little human feelings have a great deal of worth. That they have the power to inspire, form cracks in the institution, fundamentally weaken what has controlled and harmed him. We wouldn’t want him to know the true value of the cards he holds when he has the ace in a match against you, now would we? After all…

Metatron uses this ingeniously sinister tactic of taking away Aziraphale’s choice while giving the illusion that he’s actually opening up doors. Notice how he tells Aziraphale he would have the authority to do something as extraordinary as turn a demon into an angel, yet he never once puts the much simpler alternative of just working with a demon on the table? The sleight of hand here is that he’s being offered the opportunity to freely be with Crowley… but he’s already freely with him as is, no bargain to be made. In fact he fought to be. Metatron disappears this accomplishment right before our eyes, while seamlessly maintaining the illusion to Aziraphale that he (Zira) is in control.

He sets Aziraphale up for failure by only providing the option he knows Crowley will not only decline but be deeply hurt by. It’s all so cleverly planned. Once this plays out exactly how he wants, he delivers the finishing blow by diminishing Crowley and his “damned fool questions”. Suddenly doing a complete 180 and emphasizing how foolish and troublesome he is. Metatron was offering Crowley by Aziraphale’s side as The Carrot. Now he’s telling Aziraphale it was stupid of him to want The Carrot, un-heavenly.

Aziraphale’s life, love, happiness, it’s all not only a massive inconvenience for Metatron but a liability. He has successfully taken a weapon from Aziraphale’s hands he didn’t even know he had. Metatron sees the writing on the wall, and he wants it contained.

[vintagegeekculture]

The Hall of Amazing Men: Branscombe Richmond

A new admission to the Hall of Amazing Men, Branscombe Richmond is best known for being an actor where he played Lorenzo Lamas’s friend, the Lando Calrissian-like sharpie Dallas Sixkiller, or as Moki, the smartmouth Hawaiian friend of Magnum, P.I. But behind the camera, as a tough as nails stunt coordinator and stuntman, Branscombe Richmond created and developed nearly all the eccentric and eye catching events in the TV series American Gladiators: Atlasphere (the one where people roll around in giant balls), Powerball (done simply because they needed a sport that could be created cheaply because they ran out of money for development) and all the various ones where musclemen shoot tennis balls at people, and where you have to avoid muscular women by jumping on a bungee cord. I don’t think it would be inaccurate to say that with his development (on a really thin budget, no less) of memorable, eye catching sports and events that, with his stunt training he knew could be done safely enough so that even kinda-sporty housewives from Illinois could do them without injury, Branscombe Richmond created American Gladiators. He turned an idea into a realized, practical show that can be done – I don’t think it is inaccurate at all to call him the uncredited creator of American Gladiators.

In his career as a stuntman, Branscombe Richmond, meanwhile, is another one of those faces that shows up over and over playing evil henchmen, members of motorcycle gangs in rough biker bars the hero brawls with karate (if there’s ever a rough scummy biker bar out there, you can bet Branscomb Richmond is in it), and hordes of nunchaku wielding ninja, to the point where if you are, like me, an 80s-90s action aficionado, his face makes you go “oh, hey…it’s that guy!” Can you really call yourself an action fan if you don’t start identifying “your” evil henchman? His IMDB page is mostly roles that are named “Gunman In Jeep,” "Biker #2," and "Terrifying Clown."  

If there is a Evil Henchman Hall of Fame, Brandscomb is there alongside the great Al Leung. You can spot his face as a henchman in Never Too Young to Die (with John Stamos), Action Jackson, Batman Returns, the Hidden, Iron Eagle III: Aces High (objectively the best one as it had Ms. Olympia Rachel McLish), and Star Trek III, where he was a Klingon henchman to Christopher Lloyd who almost got disintegrated and had to feed his disgusting slimy monster dog-salamander. It's comforting to know the profession of henching is alive and well 300 years in the future.

On television, Brandscomb Richmond was on every single cool show from the 80s: Tales of the Gold Monkey, TJ Hooker, Manimal, Airwolf, Knight Rider, Baywatch, and many times attempted to kill the A-Team, especially from motorcycles. Like Chiba, another stuntman-actor, Branscombe Richmond specialized in motorcycle stunts, and he was admitted to the Motorcycle Hall of Fame in 2003. He is, to this day, the guest of honor at whatever motorcycle rally your embarrassing hick uncle attends. I have no evidence for this, but I have long suspected that the reason Richmond was hired to be Dallas Sixkiller in Renegade with Lorenzo Lamas was so they could get his unpaid advice on motorcycle stunts (much like how I have always suspected Warner Brothers hired Ben Affleck as Batman as a "backdoor" way to ask him to direct).

He also played the older brother of the Rock in the Scorpion King, which is an interesting choice because despite getting roles as American Indians (and being beloved in the American Indian community, who, as a whole, deeply love characters who are smartmouth, wiseass sharpies/scammers who get one over on everyone), Brandscome Richmond is in fact, like the Rock, of Hawaiian origin. His first major role in television, that of Moki in Magnum PI, was in fact Hawaiian.

Why are there so many Pacific Islanders in stuntman careers, MMA, and professional wrestling? The answer is surprisingly pedestrian. It’s because Pacific Islanders are a sizable ethnic population in Los Angeles, where movies and television are made, so if you need someone in L.A. that are tough as nails and can take a hit, a Samoan or Hawaiian is a good choice.

Happily, Branscombe Richmond is alive and well, mostly retired as a traditionally large Hawaiian family patriarch. He does occasional voice work, as Gibraltar in Apex Legends, a character physically based on him as well. I imagine he is relieved to be working in showbiz and no longer risking brain damage to do it.

[hiiikiko]

can you doooo maybe whimsigoth reader x ellie?? :3

𝕖𝕝𝕝𝕚𝕖 𝕩 𝕨𝕙𝕚𝕞𝕤𝕚𝕘𝕠𝕥𝕙!𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣

ellie w. x reader | tlou m.list

tw: none i think

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

☪︎ ִ ֶ֢࣪⋆ ellie loves your aesthetic so much, she loves how colorful yet refined it is

☪︎ ִ ֶ֢࣪⋆ she likes the way you dress because not only do you pull it off so well but because your style reminds her of a cheesy 90s movies Joel made her watch so in away, your style is almost nostalgic for her

☪︎ ִ ֶ֢࣪⋆ when she first lays eyes on her, she’s almost convinced she’s somehow been transported into an 80s/90s dark fantasy film because of how ethereal you look draped in blues, blacks, purples, and gold

☪︎ ִ ֶ֢࣪⋆ the two of you bond over music taste (this is the only way i can imagine ellie approaching anyone she deems as too cool for her)

☪︎ ִ ֶ֢࣪⋆ when she first comes over to your place, her eyes immediately drift towards your vinyl setup and she starts to dig though them with or without your permission, she totally goes into full music nerd mode and starts to ramble about how much she loves this song and how joel actually showed it to her

☪︎ ִ ֶ֢࣪⋆ she loves mazzy star (joel introduced her, he’s a sucker for pretty voices i think), the cranberries, the la’s, and especially slowdive

☪︎ ִ ֶ֢࣪⋆ after you and ellie become friends, you decide to invite her over because you wanna have a movie night!

☪︎ ִ ֶ֢࣪⋆ you bring out all your favourites: practical magic, the craft, coraline, sabrina the teenage witch, hocus pocus, and a few more

☪︎ ִ ֶ֢࣪⋆ ellie has actually seen most of these but she’ll pretend she doesn’t because watching them means that she’ll get to wrap her arm around you

☪︎ ִ ֶ֢࣪⋆ if you’re into astrology/tarot, she’d love for you to read her, she may not believe in it but it’s just another excuse for her to spend time with you

☪︎ ִ ֶ֢࣪⋆ when the two of you first start dating, she’ll take you to thrift shops, bookstores, mystic shops and she’ll even help you pick you clothes/jewelry, despite not being much of a shopper

☪︎ ִ ֶ֢࣪⋆ ellie’s favourite things in your wardrobe are the long skirts, she thinks that they make you look so witchy but in an angelic way, she also loves the lacy tank tops you wear because they show off the necklaces she’s bought you

☪︎ ִ ֶ֢࣪⋆ she absolutely loves your apartment too, the smell of incense, the glow of candles, and the soothing colour palette, so she’d spend as much time there as possible

☪︎ ִ ֶ֢࣪⋆ if you have cats, she’ll absolutely spoil them and even give them her own little nicknames

☪︎ ִ ֶ֢࣪⋆ she’s constantly sending you those whimisgoth edits on tiktok because she thinks you’ll love them

☪︎ ִ ֶ֢⋆ she also loves your makeup and how creative you get with it, she especially loves purple on you

☪︎ ִ ֶ֢⋆ ellie loves going out in public with you, she’ll hold your hand and show you off to anyone she can, her face is so smug that it screams “check out my hot girlfriend”

☪︎ ִ ֶ֢⋆ whenever someone even comes near you, she immediately puts her hands somewhere on your body, especially around your waist, and stares them dead in their eye until they leave

☪︎ ִ ֶ֢⋆ one of her favourite memories of you is one before you started dating, she came over for another movie marathon and the two of you decided to put on a record but before you knew it, you were drifting off to sleep in her arms. ellie just watched you sleep for a bit because you looked too pretty, her hands gently brushing your hair out of your face, and her eyes begging her fingers to drift down to trace your lips

☪︎ ִ ֶ֢⋆ another thing she loves to do with you is dance, she’s a little clumsy and tends to step on your feet a lot but she loves to watch you twirl around because you look like a little fairy

☪︎ ִ ֶ֢⋆ overall, she loves your style, your music taste, your movie taste, the fact that you make it feel like halloween year round, the way you smell like vanilla and incense, but most of all, she loves you ♡

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

[a/n] hope you liked this anon! idk much abt whimsigoth so i tried :0 i do have similar music taste and movie taste so i mainly played into that :)

[kamaluhkhan]

GUILTY AS SIN?

GLUTTONY — part vi of we'll write sins not tragedies

pairing: luke castellan x nemesis! reader (afab) word count: 3k summary: after a mission gone wrong, you unknowingly take the fall for a friend; you get drunk with the enemy; and you start to think that, if they’re going to crucify you anyway, you might as well indulge in a few fatal fantasies. warnings: set during the last olympian so spoilers for the entire pjo book series; luke + reader get drunk; mention of death + war + reader has some survivor's guilt; smut (unprotected p in v, oral f receiving, kinda sub!luke, brief allusion to knife kink — 18 + MDNI) + angst author's note: not sure how i feel ab this one but i've been workshopping it for weeks so i think her time has come !! also maybe got a bit too deep into book lore oops. also also ive been listening to this song an outrageous amount and i hope i did it justice ANYWAYS lmk what y'all think, thanks sm for reading ♥

♪ "guilty as sin?" by taylor swift

you’re well aware of how suspicious this looks, rendezvousing with the enemy at a sleazy dive bar in the heart of the city. 

he walks in, and your heart starts to beat faster in anticipation. his familiar deep brown eyes are now striking gold, and a streak of gray is woven through his signature dark curls — evidence of the battles you've fought, on opposite sides, and an ominous reminder of a war that has yet to be over. 

as he casually orders himself a drink and one for you, you keep a hand on your concealed dagger. it’s become an instinct of yours, whenever he’s around.

“i didn’t come here to fight.” he assures, catching the glint of your blade. 

“and what about…..” you gesture broadly at him. 

“we’re not entirely synched yet, so it gives him a break whenever i’m in full control,” he explains as though reciting from a textbook (something like how to betray your loved ones and overthrow the olympians 101). “it’s only me tonight. i swear on the river styx.”

a shiver passes through you.

about a year ago, luke tracked you down in new york. apparently, kronos was pushing him to do something extreme, and luke felt conflicted. 

you thought it had to be some sort of cruel joke, because you could not think of anything more extreme than what luke had already done in facilitating a war between gods and titans. you had no patience for his crocodile tears, not after he played you so well the first time. 

you told him as much, then told him to fuck off. 

to be fair, you didn’t know that would lead to him bathing in the river styx and becoming a vessel for the titan lord himself.

luke wears the curse of achilles well: all strong muscles and sharp angles, his tan skin glowing ever-so slightly, and his body devoid of any fresh cuts or bruises despite surviving an explosion just a few days prior. 

“so….what? you’re the pilot whenever kronos needs to take a really long nap?” 

“i’d say timeshare is the closest way to describe it.” 

“50/50 ownership?”

“more like 90/10.”

you scoff. “sounds like a scam.”

the corner of his mouth quirks up in amusement. it reminds you so much of old times, his boyish charm peeking through whenever a camper would try to pull a prank on him, and then complain when he’d beat them to the punch. 

“it’s just me,” he repeats, but you didn’t need any more confirmation.

you know deep in your gut, from that mischievous smirk alone: it’s not the lord of time, but luke castellan next to you.

the bar is surprisingly busy for a weeknight. there’s a game being shown on TV, and people wearing sports jerseys occasionally groan or cheer or come to the counter to order another pint for their table while keeping their eyes glued to the screen. the jukebox in the corner plays music from the 70s and 80s as a group of friends starts to dance, tipsy after a deadly combination of jello shots and sangria.

for the first few drinks, you and luke are silent, letting these sounds of regular human existence fill the space between you. you half-expect him to ask about law school admissions, or the new tattoo you got on your upper thigh, or your band’s latest show — all fragments of your own mundane mortal life used to distract yourself from demigod realities. 

he doesn’t, though. luke just stares at the hockey game, one you know for a fact he doesn’t care about because the rangers aren’t playing, as he sips his old-fashioned like he has all the time in the world. 

“did you wanna meet so we could just sit here in silence or….”

when you had agreed to this meeting, you had a clear goal in mind: find out who the spy is and clear your name.

it might be too much rum or the crushing weight of recent events, but you no longer have the energy nor the drive to be strategic or even cautious around luke. now, you’re looking for a cure to your bone deep boredom and heartache.

"no. i’m here because….” he falters and runs a hand through his hair. “look, i heard about what happened at camp. and, with beck —” 

“dying?” you finish, taking one last gulp of your drink. all the rage, resentment and grief you’ve been feeling has been lodged in your throat. you’d hope each sip of your dark and stormy would burn through it, but instead it comes tumbling from your lips. 

“honestly, beck would probably still be alive if you didn’t join the dark side. i guess you’re kinda leading the dark side now, aren’t you luke? what’s that like?” 

luke polishes off his drink, too, his cheeks flushed. he gestures at the bartender for a third round of drinks. or is it fourth? 

“don’t be a dick,” luke sighs once a replenished glass is placed in front of him. “i obviously never wanted to hurt you — any of you.”

if you were of sober mind, maybe you’d point out that it’s too late; that luke already hurt all of you the minute he decided to side with kronos.

“i know i did, though,” he adds after swallowing a mouthful of his drink. 

you know that if luke was of sober mind, he would never have admitted that. he seems to know better than to apologize though, hopefully recognizing that the damage has already been done. 

it’s not like your hands aren’t bloody, too. 

“it was supposed to be me, you know?” you let out a watery laugh. “i was supposed to go with percy on the mission, but beck offered to go instead because he thought — he knew — that it would….it would be hard for me to see…. you.”

luke pauses and turns away from you. “you couldn’t have known what would happen.” his voice wavers, too. “beckendorf was looking out for you — it’s what he does. did.”

“i couldn’t even go to the funeral,” you continue. “i feel like i didn’t really get to say goodbye, you know?”

 “yeah,” luke hums sorrowfully. “mourning someone who fought for the gods isn’t really allowed where i am.”

again, you could point out the irony in what he’s saying. given everything he’s done, luke dug his own grave and clearly some for his friends, too. 

tears sting your eyes, but you blink them away. the reality is that one of your best friends died because you couldn’t handle an encounter with your ex-boyfriend, the one you’re currently sitting beside. 

you might not have done what they accused you of, but you’re nowhere near innocent. who were you to give yourself permission to cry?

in the dim neon light, you notice a tear slide down luke’s cheek before he wipes it away just as fast.

he clears his throat. “to charles beckendorf: a hero by any other name.”

you tap your glass against luke’s, and you both drink in honor of your lost friend. you drink to everyone and everything you’ve lost, too. 

beckendorf is dead; chris has lost his mind; clarisse might start her own war with the apollo cabin over a flying chariot; and ever since the princess andromeda mission went terribly wrong, silena can’t go one minute without bursting into tears. 

it was too easy for everything to fall apart, as though this was always what the fates had in store for you — the next generation of greek tragedies. 

thankfully, there always comes a break in the tragedy, and it seems to be now: you and luke, getting drunk off whiskey and rum and old memories. 

you remember countless times sneaking out to the beach after curfew, mixing store-brand soda with cheap alcohol smuggled into camp by luke’s half-brothers; hot summer nights spent fantasizing about existence outside of camp and returning to your head counselor duties in the morning with chiron and mr. d none the wiser. once you started dating, it became routine for the two of you to wander away from the group for some privacy, somewhere far enough away so that no one could hear you scream luke’s name.

those memories still make your skin flush, even as you’re here drinking cocktails at a bar in the city, with one friend gone to elysium and everyone else calling you a traitor.

“i can’t believe you don’t remember that night! mr. d caught a few senior campers getting drunk in his office? they stole a super expensive bottle of wine, threw up all over the carpet, and had to spend the rest of the night cleaning it?” 

you continue shaking your head. you tip your glass back to capture the last drops of amber liquid before confessing:  

“what i remember is spending the whole night jealous of malcolm pace because he got to slow dance with you.”

luke lets out something between a scoff and a laugh, then he’s silent for a few moments.

“i love this song,” luke muses, words blurring together. “i haven’t heard it in a while.” he finishes his drink and sets the glass down, holding his hand out to you. 

your brain is a bit foggy from all the alcohol, so it takes you a few seconds to realize what he’s asking. 

“you wanna dance?”

“yeah,” he answers. “make up for lost time.”

it’s not until you feel luke’s chest pressed against yours, his hands firmly on your waist, that you register what song is currently playing.

“downtown lights” by the blue nile — luke had spent so long trying to find the right song for your first time together. 

you told him not to worry, teased him a bit for planning every detail so meticulously, but deep down, your heart swelled with how much he cared.

the empty hermes cabin during capture-the-flag, both of you pretending to be too injured from sparring practice to play. luke’s sweaty hands fumbling with the condom, you having to step in and rip the wrapper with your teeth. clothes being haphazardly thrown on so you could run back to the infirmary before anyone noticed. silent vows to do it again, and again, and again. 

the more time spent exploring and experimenting, the more you got the rhythm of each other’s bodies, knew how to make the other squirm and throw their head back in pleasure — and that didn’t just go away when luke joined kronos’ army. 

even when your loyalties were more clear, your consciousness was plagued with visions of you and luke together, ones that left your sheets burning, more than the blazing summer heat. you confided in silena about these once, and she assured you that there is no such thing as bad thoughts. 

she did warn you, though: it’s when you indulge in these fantasies that they risk becoming fatal.

now, thinking back and forth between memories with luke and the events of this past very shitty week, you realize that maybe that’s why you’re here.

despite everything you’ve done, you supposedly betrayed people you consistently fight beside, fight for; you were thrown out of a place you once considered home and told never to come back. 

you were doomed from the start — a daughter of nemesis, assumed to be wicked and revenge-seeking since birth. 

well, if they’re going to crucify you anyway…..

once the song ends, you ask:

“you wanna go outside for a smoke?”

your hands start playing with the curls at the base of luke’s neck, hinting at what you were hoping comes next.

luke licks his lips, gold eyes darker than before. 

“guess you’re itching to put that celestial bronze to good use,” he says lowly.

“only if you ask nicely,” you drawl. 

luke blushes. 

you pull away from him, start walking towards the back exit, and pray that he follows you. 

—

this is why meeting with you was dangerous: there’s no one else in the world – god, titan, or otherwise – luke castellan would get on his knees for, let alone in the filthy alley behind a bar.  

technically, kronos sent luke here to recruit you. 

the scythe charm — the one used to communicate with silena — sits heavy in his pocket. it’s part of the reason why you were exiled from camp, why your friends don’t look at you the same way. why you can’t ever go back home, not really. 

luke imagines you might resent those who threw you out of camp, but you would never betray them. he knew that you weren’t likely to join kronos’ army.

he’s thankful that, at the very least, you still have a penchant for breaking some rules. 

the two of you are a tangled mess of teeth and tongue. luke tastes the spiciness of ginger beer and rum, mixed with sweetness from the clove cigarette you just smoked. you lock one leg around luke’s hip, and the brief glimpse of your lacy black underwear has him throbbing. one of your hands slips underneath his shirt to trace the contours of his abdomen. luke’s breath hitches when your hand reaches down even further. 

“wait –” you pause your actions to let luke finish his sentence, and already he regrets voicing his hollow concern. “i….i probably should not be doing this.”

“me neither,” you concede, breathing steadily.“but, they already think i’m guilty.”  with your other hand, your thumb dances over his kiss-swollen lips and luke feels something ignite in the pit of his stomach. “maybe i am, with how much i think about you.”

luke knows what’s at stake for him, if anyone finds out, but in a booze-soaked haze and with you looking at him like that, he can’t seem to care. 

it’s coming back to him now: that endless cycle of waking up sticky and drenched in sweat over dreams of screaming your name and going about his day like it wasn’t a paradox to be leading kronos’ army and still wanting someone aligned with the enemy to devour him. 

when he agreed, however reluctantly, to be a vessel for kronos, luke had to lock those desires inside a vault deep inside his mind. 

this might very well be luke’s last chance to satisfy his cravings, once and for all. tonight, he’s in full control of his body and mind. 

he’ll happily yield his power to you. 

soon enough, your teeth gnaw on his top lip as luke messily thrusts into you, your underwear hastily pushed to the side. he tries to savor every part of this, of you — the heel of your combat boot digging into his back; the sting of your nails where you grip him; the familiar scent of your skin, sickly sweet cherries and burnt vanilla; the hoarseness of your voice, encouraging him to go faster, harder. following your orders, luke wraps both of your legs around his waist and digs his fingers further into your hips to keep them secure.

it’s a religious experience, watching you throw your head back against the brick wall as your orgasm crashes through you. luke follows a few seconds later, pulling out just in time to paint the inside of your thighs with his cum.

luke grins as he watches you come down from your high, eyes closed, chest heaving, neck engraved with the outline of his teeth.

“sorry, didn’t mean to give you a concussion.”

you open your eyes just to roll them at luke, who’s tucking himself back into his jeans.

“you’re such an asshole,” you jest through labored breaths, registering his shit-eating grin. you fix the hem of your leather skirt and pout dramatically. “and you had to leave a mess behind, didn’t you?”

without another word, luke kneels in front of you. 

he leans his head back to admire how your lips curl into a bemused smile at his antics. your fingers press into his pulse point, no doubt feeling how reckless his heartbeat becomes underneath you. once more, your thumb prods at his lips; this time luke grants access, the cold metal of your ring burning on his tongue. 

“is this how you pledged loyalty to your titan king?” you taunt. 

luke shakes his head, still sucking your digit. 

he did have to bow, but not like this. the only entity he’d worship this desperately is you. 

“i’m honored,” you coo. luke bites back a whimper when you remove your thumb from his mouth, instead tracing the scar on his face, up his cheekbone. “i have to say though: i miss your brown eyes, pretty boy.”

his whole body is on fire with how you touch him, but your passing observation feels like a knife to the gut. wanting to be good for you, to prove he’s still your pretty boy, luke pushes up the bottom of your skirt so it bunches around your waist. 

“luke!” you attempt to scold, concealing a moan when his teeth graze your clit through the damp fabric of your underwear. “someone might see.”

“it’ll be fine, baby,” he assures. “is this new?” luke is mesmerized by the fresh ink on your thigh, fingers trailing over swirling black lines. 

you hum, a goddess gazing down on her disciple. “do you like it?”

luke nods. he replaces his fingers with his tongue, journeying across your skin, tasting salty sweat mixed with his cum drying between your legs. he hears your whimpers for more. he complies and plunges two fingers beneath the lace until you reach your peak. luke places one last kiss to your core, before getting up again.

you crash your lips onto his, and you’re kissing him the way you did back when you really loved him, chaotic and feverish. your fingers snake through his curls, and you tug on them just enough to make luke’s head spin. 

you’re somehow more intoxicating than however many drinks he downed earlier.

he sees something simmering behind your eyes, when you ask if he wants to come back to your apartment. you both know you shouldn’t, but honestly — in the grand scheme of things, what’s one more sin?as the two of you are tangled beneath your bedsheets, you decide to frame it differently, as a mutual vow: maybe just one more time will satisfy this hunger.

[writingoddess1125]

Yes Buggy and his hot wife are Roger and Jessica Rabbit, but if I may submit this comparison to the council:

✨Buggy and his wife are The Grinch and Martha May Whovier✨

Oh It Is ON!

In the spirit of the Winter Holiday Spirits! We are doing a Christmas Spin on My Effect Series!

So get you a egg nog with 90% rum maybe some holiday 'cigarettes' sit back and enjoy this clusterfuck idea! 🍃 🚬

P.S IM REALLY HIGH WHILE WRITING THIS SO ITS PROBABLY ALL OVER THE PLACE! ENJOY!

The Grinch and Martha May Effect 🎄

If you like my shit, support me on Ko-Fi because recession!

Link to Main Masterlist

• This Crusty Bastard has had the heart of the most beautiful women in the world.

• And didn't even realize it-

• You had all met on Gol D Roger's ship- Buggy being a snot nosed apprentice with his gaggle of friends- While you being one of the few girls on the ship was a cup bearer for your father. Silvers Rayleigh.

• This made you incredibly off limits to all, Sheltered by a life of luxury your father provided as your only real 'job' was to fill his cup. Even Gol D Roger the famed Captian spoiled you in cute dresses and expensive bows.

• Turning you into the Doll of the Oro Jackson.

• A Princess Wrapped in Silver and Gold

• You still remembered the first day you ment him-

• Both of you 13 years old, fresh faced kids still needing the guidance of adults.

• You'd snuck off from your normal areas, wanting to explore the ship some more. That's till you saw a boy- His face covered in what seemed to be gunpowder as he filled homemade bombs with total care.

• His blue hair peaking out of the red hat and drawing you to step a big closer to get a better look.

• The Tull of your sparkling dress catching the corner of his eye as he spun around quickly holding a knife out.

• Then, Ocean eyes met Your own and time seemed to slow. Ever so slightly- Your cheeks warming as you gave a soft smile.

• "Hello" Your little voice slipped out, Buggy stating at you with unsure interest. A crooked smile on his lips as he greeting you quickly- "H-Hi!"

• "Is something wrong with your nose? It looks kinda funny" Buggy glares hard at you, making you blink in question at his reaction.

• Buggy covering his face, his ocean eyes starting to cloud with tears like a storm eyed he stared at you. "Whats so funny about my nose!? Huh!"

• "Well don't get angry- I don't mind. I think its cute. Im sorry if i offended you" You smile so sweetly, feeling bad for making his sad as Buggy felt his face start to glow.

• "You think.. My nose is cute?" He questioned, making you nod honestly. He giggled into his hands, a high pitch squeaky laugh that made you smile and your heart flutter.

• "Whats your name?" He grins at you, Hearing you actually want to know about him. "Buggy! What about you pretty girl?" Your face flushing at his words.

• "I'm-"

• "(Y/N)!" You heard your name being called before you could speak, recognizing the voice of your father.

• "(Y/N)- That's such a pretty name.. Will I see you again?" Buggy asked, his eyes sparking at such a chance. Your delicate hand reaching forward and tucking a strand of his blue hair back into his hat. "I will try"

• And try you did. For a year the two of you would meet, talking on the deck of the ship for hours till you had to sneak away again. Buggy even using his Chop Chop abilities to help you get back to your room.

• It was tragic to say, but you'd never get a chance to see Buggy for many many years after your 14th birthday- Your Father sending you to an Island to keep you safe as you entered your teens.

• The disbanding of the Roger Pirates aiding in this as well-

• The death and heartache Seeming to follow you as you found yourself handing in the hands of Sir Crocodile.

• Crocodile having had an interest to whoo you for years- as he too had met you on Gol D Roger's ship, finding you the only person more then suitable to be at his side.

• You had never truly accepted his advances, Despite his power, status and more. He didn't have your heart, and you wouldn't give him any part of yourself in compensation.

• Decades it had been like this, still the girl wrapped in silver and gold. Hoarded like treasure for everyone to admire, however nothing more.

• But it seemed the tides were beginning to change- After Crocodile time in Impel Down- as well as the formation of the Cross Guild- You would meet your blue haired friend once again. Just in a unique Flashy way

• AKA by his head being punched off by Crocodile and accidently flung into your waiting chest.

• "(Y/N)?-" He mumbled against your bust, your cheeks flaring deep crimson as he floated his head up to lock eyes with your flushed face.

• He got his ass beaten for that by Crocodile of course-

• But for you it was like your heart was Kickstart again!

• At the Cross Guild, you'd always attend. Crocodile assuming it was because you were warming up to him, But in truth it was to see Buggy-

• The two of you talking to each other constantly. He was so fascinating to you-

• Like you two were children again falling in love- Sitting out under the stars talking for hours. You tucking strands of his blue hair back into his hat, him fixing any Imperfections on yohr dresses as you sat next to him. Which often lead to Buggy giggling into his gloved hands while turning away from you

• You accepted him as he was, and adored him for it. You loved his mind, his passion, even his laziness and lewd humor.

• As time went on, you noticed the same for him. How he would ask you YOUR interest, what things YOU actually liked.

• Something no one had asked you since you were a child. Most just assuming your taste and interest.

• Hell when he came for meetings he would bring you something you'd actually want. Not just shiny things to make you look more valuable.

• "Hey (Y/N)!" Buggy cloaked towards you excited as he held out a old dirty crate to you. "I remeber you said you really liked weird plants, so I found these old books and scientist-y samples of the weirdest! Hope you like them!"

• You'd almost cried at the gift, so overfill with you you hugged Buggy. Before spending hours going through the crate and organizing it all to your liking.

• However with the sweets, came the sours...

• There had been countless times you'd walk into the Guild and see Buggys face. Beaten and bruised- How Crocodile and Mihawk kicked his ass as their own personal stress relief or just to show dominace.

• It broke your heart.. truly- Buggy humiliated like that infront of everyone time and time again... You would try to comfort him after the meetings but he would just run away- You swore you saw tears in his eyes a few times.

• You'd want to many times to have him run into your arms, so you could whisper how good of a man he is and deserving so love.

- It had been a particularly festive day in the Guild Hall, Crocodile dressing in a nicer suit as better food was served and fancy alcohol was served. You even being gifted a dress by the Desert King himself to wear today, you didn't refuse but felt rather uncomforble at how attentive he was acting with you.

And uncomfortable that he had purposely sat Buggy so far away from you..

As dinner was being served, Crocodile stood up from his seat next to you. Slapping his hand on the table to gather everyone's attention.

"I have an announcement-" Crocodile voice boomed through the room, you glancing up as the hook handed man gestured for you to stand. Which you silently did-

Oh No...

"(Y/N)- Daughter of Silvers Rayleigh. A women of greatness and deserving of only the finest of riches"

No...

"I ask for your hand- I swear I will give you all the wealth you desire"

Please No...

"From Riches, Silks and even the One Piece if your little mind wishes for it"

NO!

"Will you Marry me?"

Something inside you just snapped. Staring at Crocodile face that had the crooked cigar hanging from his lips.

Crocodile taking your silence positively as he handed you a velvet box with a massive diamond ring inside of it.

You stared at the ring box that had been placed in your glove hands and felt... nothing. Absolutely nothing...

Before A fire of rage filled your insides-

"We- We aren't even dating!-" You shouted, everyone looking to yoh in shock as you looked around wildly.

"What makes you think I want to stay by your side!? You were just ment to protect me not use me as a Scudo Girlfriend! I'm not yours nor will I ever be!-" Crocodile face starting to turn red, his eyes glancing around him before setting on you with a harsh glare.

"So I-I can't accept this" You finally hissed out, bright red in the face from both embarrassment and anger. Everyone in the Guild Hall staring at you in total shock.

"Besides My Heart... Belongs to someone else-" Crocodile eyes widen as he clenched his hands in rage. You handing the ring box back to him delicately, before turning to look at Buggy who had been picking his nose diassociating heavily at the dramatics. Only coming back to reality when he saw everyone was staring at him-

Buggy stares confused, 'Why are you all looking at me?' He looked behind himself first, Then around to see who you could be talking about, that had your heart. Realizing quickly he was alone and you actually ment HIM!

"Wait Me!?"

• After such a stunning yet shocking reveal, Crocodile cut you lose. Feeling you embarrassed him infront of everyone- Which had been the greatest day of your life!

• As you fly into Buggy's (Who got beaten senseless once again) arms. Who accepts you happily into his life-

• Frolicking away to his Circus Themed Ship in what can only be described as total Joy!

• "HAHAHAHAHA I WIN!!" He yells out, holding you in his arms as he flips off Crocodile once more and holds you in his arms.

• You adore his Flashy Crusty ways, the way he weirdly cackled and utter lack of emotional control.

• Oh How you love your Crusty Clown!

[five-thousand-loaves-of-bread]

asking in good faith, i remembered you once posted about having nuance about ABA and i want to understand what you mean by that because i know you post from a non-western disabled perspective.

is ABA something other than operant conditioning in other places? if not, shouldn't we be listening to the ABA survivors who call ABA abusive and dehumanizing? if something is abusive to some but happened to help others, isn't it irresponsible to say that ABA is good for anyone just because it helps some people and has hurt others, like the psychiatric system?

asking because i want to understand what nuance there is, because the only people i know who have had to endure ABA therapy in their life have survived really horrific, dehumanizing abuse like being treated as a dog by their ABA therapists. is there nuance to this?

hornet nest. don’t really love talk about ABA but will answer this one. so

1) when talk about ABA, from western perspective. ABA here (<certain non-western country) even worse lol (would say newly introduced compare to say US… plus there not much of neurodivergent acceptance movement here & eugenics rampant people on social media proudly say classic eugenics stuff n admit eugenics good. like admit eugenics by exact word.)

2) important correction that never said ABA good for anyone everyone. never said ABA not abusive never abusive. because ABA often is abusive. would say such vast majority abusive. some more subtle and or not all encompassing in practice than others but vast vast majority use harmful ideology or methods in some way (90%? higher?not scientific number by any mean, throwing it out there based on observation, more illustrate point of how high than Actual Accurate Number). if any time you (general you) got from my post about ABA think am arguing ABA never abusive then you definitely understand something wrong, or am didn’t communicate right. despite what may seem like on this blog, anytime hear “ABA” alarm bell go off. anytime see “am ABA therapist” immediate distrust & avoid & rarely earn back.

with that out of way:

fortunately with neurodivergent activists & ABA survivors advocating, n neurodiversity affirming become more of a “good thing to describe self as”, some ABA clinics trying/say they trying change. try more natural learning, try more strength based techniques, less drills, less DTT, less force eye contact, less force mask, less punishment but more reward, less food motivators, less planned withholding… we at very very beginning of this

unfortunately “neurodiversity affirming” becoming buzzword. can slap it on anything. include “at first glance look all good person have fun smiling but if know what look for, harmful practice glaring at you” ABA. people can say they do nonabusive ABA n do harmful practices. n sometimes it people genuinely trying take abusive part out of ABA but not realize some aspects still… harmful. still coercive. still take away autonomy. (ETA n of course there many places where unchanged)

operant conditioning… hard one because. n this maybe out of topic or nit pick. give self shiny gold star sticker for monkey brain (reward) whenever finish task (goal behavior) technically operant conditioning. not abusive. but ABA abusive because… “only look at behavior ignore internal, smile mean happy eye contact mean better milder” operant conditioning. “‘tantrum’ undesirable behavior attention seeking so not reward behavior need extinguish behavior by planned ignore (who care why they meltdown)” operant conditioning. “food rewards you earn eat only when you good, you earn comfort only when you good” operant conditioning. “stop elopement by physically block them from leave n once they learn stop elope they better (actually just replaced physical flight with dissociation freeze)” operant conditioning

& sometimes it not that “ABA not abusive”… but more not believe ABA more abusive than say. police that kill visibly autistic people especially visibly autistic Black people. or more serious than “put your autistic child in therapy or we take them away. n by therapy we mean ABA.” or “am single parent work multiple jobs child keep get sent home mid day bc behaviors which mean interrupt work less pay more likely get fired. struggle pay bills cant afford childcare but insurance cover 40 hour ABA idk what to do.” or “get kicked out of 7th school 937473th SLP OT because behaviors” ETA (forgot to retype when draft got deleted so add back in) this not saying “ABA abuse okay bc other abuse exist.” but more of ABA not exist alone & ABA exist because other things exist & cannot get rid of ABA alone without get rid of system that produce it

know people who went through ABA as child n not feel traumatized n actually found it help (n some of them may be traumatized just not realize it but there people who thought about it a lot & still conclude not traumatized). know people who went thru ABA found it both help n abuse. know ABA survivors who “maybe did help but abused by it don’t want the help if mean abuse.” know ABA survivors who just. abused. of course ABA survivors who abused by it should be prioritized. people who went thru ABA who not traumatized very minority & at least huge bit of luck. n often times also with some mix of privilege (location eg state with better healthcare more up to date healthcare cities at blue states etc, financial, etc.). hence why never say “ABA never abusive.” n why don’t feel comfortable call self ABA “survivor” because. well. not traumatized by it. don’t feel right

all of this (n tbh anything am saying abt ABA) more said towards non ABA survivor audience (specifically those who hear like third hand fourth hand fifteenth hand information n never actually read anything official about ABA & can’t tell you what it does beyond “promote masking” (often true… but how?) & when asked for more, no clue. am firmly believe you need know enemy to criticize & defeat enemy.). it more of way ask them talk about ABA with more nuance n more knowledge. no interest “educating” ABA survivors on what ABA is & how it work. not my place. they not need it.

^ because right now “anti-ABA crowd” turned kind of into joke in some people eyes because some people who say “ABA abusive” keep saying same thing as eachother n can’t tell you what ABA actually is beyond “masking & eye contact.” n also poorly done studies (that ABA PTSD study that anyone can just say they went thru ABA & no verify… there difference between letting survivors exist online without interrogate & demand for proof papers, versus published scientific papers). yes many most ABA abusive harmful yes no doubt ABA survivors gotten PTSD from it etc. but if in role of advocacy, neeeeeed be able talk about it with knowledge & nuance (ETA & good evidence). because most impacted are gonna be ABA survivors & them not be taken seriously (already happening).

would love world where. autistic people with serious behaviors that danger to self or others get help they need. without be kicked out of multiple services. without be abused. be treat as human. be treat compassionately. for help be freely available. n their caregivers have respite. n not need work 9 million jobs just to pay bills n not have time be around child. unfortunately we not there yet. n take long time get there. n people struggling now. so need something for now. need harm reduction. so will try take as much harmful stuff out of ABA as possible while we work on new thing.

very bad TL;DR: are there any nuance? ..yes? but when say that people tend think mean “ABA never abusive.” so also no… not in that way

sorry kind of went off tangent. but no short way talk about ABA nuance

potential context for other people? one two three four

though PLEASE. DON’T reblog these ^ posts. don’t want them get revived n have to Deal With That.

[owlphibiaisthebest15]

Hi guys! I want to talk about a minor problem I have with Amphibia and how they could've been done better. I will not be talking about any of the big problems that people have already complained about, like Sasha and Marcy's lack of screentime, their character arcs, parents, nobody talking about Marcy after "True Colors", yada yada yada, because we don't need another post like that, and I want to keep this overdue rant as short as possible. This is based on my personal opinions along with a few others, but feel free to disagree with me if you want. But with further, let us begin...

Anne almost always gets way too easily forgiven for f*cking up.

Okay! This one may be a hot take because I have never seen another person complain about this. But this has been eating me away for MONTHS, and if no one else is going to say it, then I will. While this occasionally extends to some other characters depending on the episode. The one I want to talk about most is Anne. Now, at the start of the series, Anne was pretty much a jerk with a heart of gold. She was selfish, bratty, lazy, and irresponsible, but she did learn from the mistakes that she made and became a true hero by the end of the series. While some of these flaws and mistakes are not worth talking about, there are still others that are actually worse than what the show's narrative portrays them to be.

They may not be as bad as leading a toad army to invade the capital city, burying the only thing that could get Anne home, or sending your friends to another world on purpose. Anne has still made some pretty questionable decisions, even to the point where they often cross the line.

Here's a list of some of the worst things Anne Boonchuy has ever done from Season 1 and 2:

Breaking Hop Pop's favorite cane that also happens to be a keepsake of his father and grandfather all while making fun of him.

Manipulating Sprig into taking Bessie the family Snail on a Joyride without reading. Which is like someone taking a car out for a spin without a driver's permit.

Forcing Sprig to marry Maddie despite his obvious discomfort for Pizza Dough and later forces him to date Ivy while he's still engaged to Maddie.

Faking being sick to get out of farm duty, which led the Plantars getting sick themselves and even thought they were all going to die from red leg.

Slacking off while she was supposed to be protecting the frozen townsfolk, while aware of what happens to one of them while they're frozen. Which, of course, led to Polly almost getting eaten by a giant weasel.

Causes massive property damage with Polly while on the streets of Newtopia, and later breaks into Newtopia University in hopes of finding a rad college party. The second one was Polly's idea, but Anne had no problem going along with it.

A team effort along with her frog family. Sending a giant chicken to attack Wartwood. Which BTW can create tornadoes, breathe fire, and even turned their loved ones into stone, all because they forgot to buy everyone gifts. Sure, Anne was against the idea, but she still went along with it.

What do characters usually respond with when Anne admits her mess ups?! "It's okay! You're good! What you did was serious, but it doesn't matter that we almost died, as long as you learned your lesson."

Though Anne still at least got a lot better, as the worst things she's done in Season 3 were covering up some major plot points from her parents, robbing a museum to get a clue on how to find a way back to Amphibia, and tricking Blair the Balloonist into flying a hot air balloon. Though, the first one is still a little f*cked up, but she did have selfless reasons for doing these, and she came clean for 2/3 of these.

But still, 90% of this show is just a lighthearted slice of life cartoon, but when it shifts to its dark story driven and plot twisting side, this is where the narrative (and by some extent Anne herself) gets pretty hypocritical. It's pretty much when Anne messes up and lies to other characters. It's a simple error in judgment. But when other main characters such as Sasha, Marcy, and even Hop Pop do the same to her, first they gotta face hell for it, and then they get their redemption arc.

Yes! They did do some serious sh*t, and Anne had a right to be mad at them. But it seems that other characters are just not allowed to even stay mad at Anne when she does pretty similar sh*t. I mean, yes, she does try to make up for it, and yes, she admits what she's done most of the time, and eventually, she does become a better person from them. But so have Hop Pop, Sasha, and Marcy. But again, they didn't get the protagonists treatment. They got hurt and thrown around like ragdolls because of one or two big mistakes, and even that wasn't enough.

While Anne sometimes faces some consequences for her actions, like breaking Hop Pop's heirloom cane with HP giving her dish duty for a month (Cmon man! You should've given her way more than that!), gets banned from an arcade because she threatened to eat newt kids for cutting in line (which is not important), and most importantly, gets stranded in Amphibia after being peer pressured by her friends to shoplift it, all on her 13th birthday. Which I guess was enough for karma itself to feel so bad for her that she will hardly ever worry about facing any lasting consequences for her misdeeds ever again. While karma beats the cr*p out of others who would dare lie and betray our precious protagonists, even when they have sympathetic reasons for doing so.

Speaking of, this leads to me to clarify something that some fans have misinterpreted since the beginning of the series. The flashback scene in the second episode, "Best Fronds," was intended to show where Anne's distorted views on friendship and some of her toxic traits come from. Not to justify every single bad decision Anne has ever made, like what some fans think.

While I'm not gonna say that Anne was just as bad as Sasha before Amphibia, as it does show that Anne had her own personal flaws that she had to get through without depending on her friends. Who were more enabling her flaws than causing them.

However, while the show does try to show that Anne wasn't exactly much better in their friend dynamic than they were. For the reasons I mentioned earlier, it instead paints Anne as the least toxic one or not being toxic at all. With them only making a handful of moments that show that even after their betrayals, Anne still isn't much better than them. But the usual wacky slice of life narrative in her character development episodes downplays the severity of her actions, with Anne only just getting an emotional lesson after nearly getting everyone killed, and some of the said lessons being brought up in a few episodes to test her character or as examples to show others how much she has grown.

Now, I'm going to do some comparisons between Amphibia and The Owl House. While there are several things that Amphibia did better than TOH and about an equal amount of things TOH did better than Amphibia. One of those things that The Owl House did better than Amphibia was the writers treating each and every character fairly. The characters make mistakes and learn from them without the narrative downplaying the seriousness of their mistakes, and it isn't always "Okay! You're forgiven! What you did was serious, but it doesn't matter that we almost died. You learned your lesson, and that's what matters." While it doesn't give other characters the short end of the forgiveness stick for doing similar sh*t. With that, it also makes the character arcs a little bit better, in my opinion.

However, I'm not saying that Anne's character development was bad or that Matt Braly is treating Anne like how some see Alex Hirsch did with Mabel. The show did alright with changing a bratty teenager with flawed views of friendship into a true and selfless hero. All of what I described seems to what TV Tropes would call "Protagonist Centered Morality," and if I'm being honest, but because of that reason, I don't find Anne to be the most appealing character to me. I'm sorry! I know that a lot of you love her, and she's the second most popular character in the show; with the first being Marcy (my favorite), but I don't even dislike her either. I just feel that the narrative could've done better in treating the characters more fairly, like how TOH did with their characters. I really want to like Anne more than I do now, but for what I described, it makes it kinda hard for me to.

That's it for my opinions on this. This was longer than I thought, so if you read it this far or read it at all. You either think that I have a point and should do more of this or my analysis stinks, and I should never speak my dumb mind again. I'll probably see how this goes either way. If anybody else here still cares about this show.

[ketuvamoon]

𝐈𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜 𝐊𝐞𝐭𝐮𝐯𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐖𝐄 ☋

First, what is Ketu and what are Ketuvians?

In Vedic astrology, there are 9 recognized planets: Surya (Sun), Chandra (Moon), Kuja (Mars), Budha (Mercury), Guru (Jupiter), Shukra (Venus), Shani (Saturn), Rahu (North Node), and Ketu (South Node).

Each of which rules over 3 lunar mansions called nakshatras, bringing the total to 27.

The three nakshatras ruled by Ketu are Ashwini, Magha, and Mula. Ketuvian means having these nakshatras in your big 3 (Sun, Moon, Rising) or having Ketu conjunct one of your big 3. Ketu in the 1st house is included here as well. The signs your big 3 are in take precedence before the nakshatras, though.

The WWE is an untapped gold mine when it comes to seeing how certain nakshatras play out in TV and entertainment. The WWE is unique in the way that the roles they play can affect their lives, the lines becoming blurred in a way, who is the character and who is the real person? I think it's very Ketu-like how many wrestlers lose themselves in a persona or in trying to live up to one.

So I’m focusing on Ketu today, Ketu rules extremes, headlessness, and disillusion. In this list, you’re going to see themes such as dark/edginess, first of many/trailblazers, recklessness/carelessness, and/or behaving in a deranged or unhinged fashion. Honestly, what WWE is all about.

Foremost, is the former CEO and head of creative of WWE, Vince McMahon (Magha ♌︎ Sun + Mercury) who in the Attitude Era and onward (1997-), was known for being pretty controversial, to say the least. Starting his evil and mischievous character with the Montreal Screwjob, screwing Bret Hart in the process. Despite that, he was responsible for the company's huge success, after experiencing a rough patch in the early 90s. Bringing us the iconic Ruthless Aggression era, and playing up excessive violence, profanity, and sexual content. The chart for the WWE has (Magha ♌︎ Jupiter + Rahu), giving Vince perfect synastry with it to be the one to bring it to the next level.

Next, The Undertaker (Mula ♐︎ Moon), who is known for his “Deadman” persona. The usual attire is a long, black, trench coat, and a black top hat. He spent all of his career in this persona, though having a short stint as the “American Badass” biker. If I’m not mistaken he’s also the wrestler that took the longest to break kayfabe [the fact or convention of presenting staged performances as genuine or authentic]. He didn’t do interviews until fairly recently, and he now has a podcast, telling stories from his long career.

Now, The Rock (Mula ♐︎ Moon), and Stone Cold Steve Austin (Mula ♐︎ Sun + Mercury). They were each other's most iconic rivalry, defining the Attitude Era. The Rock is the charismatic babyface while Stone Cold is the rebellious heel, both are pretty unfiltered and disrespectful towards others, especially each other.

Next, Team Xtreme (lol), which consisted of the Hardy Boyz: Jeff Hardy (Revati Moon + Ketu), Matt Hardy (Mula ♐︎ Moon), and Lita (Ashwini ♈︎ Sun | Krittika Moon + Ketu). They were known for their extreme, high-flying stunts and innovative moves. Lita joined as their valet and quickly became an active participant in matches, marking the true formation of Team Xtreme. During this period, Lita and Matt were dating. They all had considerable solo success as well, with Jeff becoming WWE Champion in 2008.

The duo found fame in tandem with Edge (Mula ♐︎ Moon + Rahu | Ashwini ♈︎ Mars) & Christian (Ashwini ♈︎ Mars | Mula ♐︎ Rahu), their very risky tables, ladders, and chairs matches definitely set a new standard for any matches of its kind to follow.

With Lita only being part of the trio for 2 years, she found her success as a solo act with the help of two individuals, Trish Stratus (Mula ♐︎ Sun) and Edge. Her feud with Trish Stratus is each other’s biggest, and her real-life affair with Edge became a major storyline used in the show. She caught most of the heat for this affair, the hate from fans running her out of the company in 2006.

The affair with Lita, along with becoming ruthless in his pursuit to become champion, catapulted Edge into stardom, starting the best heel run of all time, IMO. Edge started with a dark and edgy (lol) persona, a “tortured” soul who didn’t speak much. He then moved into a duo with Christian and momentarily became the Brood, a trio of vampires with Gangrel. All before fully leaning into being loud, reckless, and careless, he became the legend he is today, the “Rated R” Superstar. He also had a noteworthy feud with John Cena (Ashwini ♈︎ Sun). He was my first "favorite" wrestler ever, as a Mula Moon myself. 🤭

Trish’s feud with Victoria (Magha ♌︎ Moon + Ketu | Mula ♐︎ Venus) was notable, with them having a Hardcore match at Survivor Series. This was during a time when it was extremely taboo for women to do anything even close to what they did, hitting each other with various objects.

Victoria’s persona was unhinged and edgy, nicknamed the “Black Widow”. I absolutely adored her aesthetic, I notice a lot of Ketu natives gravitate towards black, red, and purple.

Chyna (Mula ♐︎ Sun + Venus) was the one who encouraged Victoria to begin wrestling. Chyna got her start in the WWE acting as a bodyguard for Triple H and Shawn Michaels, forming D-Generation X. Chyna, more than any other woman in wrestling, showed that women can do what men can. She was very important for the women’s division, being the only woman to have held the Intercontinental Championship. She was a trailblazer and nicknamed the “Ninth Wonder of the World”. After being let go from the WWE at the end of 2001, she struggled with drug, alcohol addictions, and depressive tendencies. She unfortunately passed from a drug overdose in 2015. The way things turned out for her truly bothered me, she deserved better. Rest in Peace. 🕊️

Lastly, Sunny (Mula ♐︎ Moon) is known to most as the first major WWE Diva, becoming the most downloaded personality on AOL in 1996. She had a controversial tenure in WWE, having an affair with Shawn Michaels while being publicly involved with Chris Candido. She also struggled with addiction, eventually being let go by WWE in 1998 after too many no-shows. Sunny has since made appearances on independent circuits. Most recently, she has been arrested several times and is now serving a 17.5-year sentence for vehicular manslaughter.

All in all, Ketu has an almost insatiable need to be headless, expressing a sense of carelessness or detachment. It can be their success just as much as it can be their downfall. In the world of wrestling, men often channel this behavior into their work, which reduces the need to act out in their personal lives, though some still do, often through infidelity or drug use. However, Ketu-ruled women in wrestling, lacking similar outlets in their professional roles, tend to seek this detachment in their personal lives, frequently turning to substances as their medium of expression.

Found on Barbara Pijan's site:

"Ketu can have a strong influence on things in this way: 

It sometimes renders the mind unbalanced, disturbing social relationships and makes personal life difficult. 

Ketu makes itself felt in the psychology of an individual rather than on the material conditions of life."

[kyeomniscient]

seventeen ao3 fic recs (pt. 2)

creating a new post for the mid-length fics bc the original post was getting too long - enjoy!

pt. 1 (completed fics, >50k words)

pt. 3 (completed shorter fics, <10k words)

pt. 4 (incomplete fics)

in order of descending word count, last updated 02/10/2024

The Times We Fell (minwon, 46k, completed)

this one definitely did things to my heart :"") loved the visuals of hockeyplayer!mingyu x figureskater!wonwoo, the development of their enemies(?)-to-friends-to-lovers arc, how their relationship remained strong and steady throughout despite being met with various obstacles and external pressures along the way, how Mingyu rekindled Wonwoo's love for skating not once but twice, just them being a healthy and supportive couple - a beautiful read!

cut to the feeling (soonwoo, 44k, completed)

this was a character study on emotional self-torture and every chapter was an absolute sucker punch to the gut - loved the sadness and pining for the drama but i also felt like plot-wise the events didn't really justify the intensity of it all as much as the author's other piece :"/ writing was still amazing though!!

gold fever (seokgyu, 43k words, completed)

archer!seokmin x weightlifter!mingyu in a college au - really liked the vibes and writing in this fic :) seokgyu fics are rare and i feel like it's bc their dynamics on-camera mostly revolve around teasing/bickering it's hard to picture anything else, but the slow-burn element brought smth fresh and new to their dynamics and it was such an enjoyable read!

In The Eye of the Beholder (verkwan, 34k words, completed)

half-demon!vernon x blind!seungkwan - the supernatural au i never knew i needed

Get busy living, or get busy dying. (cheolhoon, 31k words, completed)

absolutely living for the dialogue and banter between these two during the counseling sessions - such a unique setting, a v good fic!

just let me know (i'll be on the floor) (verkwan, 30k words, completed)

soft and sweet friends-to-lovers fic that made my heart so warm!! really loved how their relationship unfolded over time, how they took care of each other as roommates, with seungkwan's obliviousness and denial and vernon being so patient with him throughout - 'twas a lovely slice-of-life read that brought comfort and joy :)

A (Revised Guide to Lab Safety) (soonwoo, 25k words, completed)

askjfsds this was an amazing mix of soonwoo peer dynamics in a college au + science!! their lab partners-to-friends-to-lovers arc was really too cute so i'd highly recommend this to soonwoo enthusiasts

tu me manques (minwon, 26k words, completed)

this really captured the feeling of watching 90s & early 2000s romcoms (think before sunrise, chasing liberty, serendipity etc) and was written so beautifully i might cry :"") really loved the travelling aspect of it, the scenic descriptions of each city made the fic so immersive, like i was there along w them sigh

also wonwoo has slight manic pixie dream boy vibes and mingyu is just there lolol

here kitty kitty (minwon, 26k words, completed)

the ultimate cosy fall read - this fic felt like a sip of warm tea by the fire on a chilly autumn evening :)

snowflake, i'll catch you tonight (minwon, 25k words, completed)

this was really cute!! just soft and fluffy vibes in general and characterisation was super on point bc wonwoo is literally winter personified lmao

a mix of sun and clouds (soonwoo, 24k words, completed)

lovelovelove aus with interesting professions, and this time they're both working at a weather station! soonyoung being a weather nerd is such a delight to read, and wonwoo's emotional constipation + little acts of service never gets old hehe geguri is amazing

Paradise Lost (minwon, 24k, completed)

sad fics have a chokehold on me and this one definitely takes the cake... was left in tears and i would risk it all to experience it for the first time again

despite this being a post-apocalyptic au, the development of the romance arc was treated softly and gently, that the moments of tenderness between the mcs shone through the violence and ruin that surrounded them. it was a really refreshing take on domesticity, one that took me by surprise, and it's a pity that the author only has 2 works!! i need MORE

Bend (and Break) (seoksoon, 23k words, completed)

fwb-to-friends-to-lovers seoksoon?? another wholesome fic and i loved the build up in this fic, where the mcs are basically doing all but admitting their feelings for each other UGH so cute

175°C for 60 minutes (seokgyu, 23k words, completed)

vv cute baking rivals au!! love how little clues were sprinkled throughout the story and came together at the end to tie things up nicely hehe

Lie Again (gyuhan, 22k words, completed)

the best gyuhan fic (that i've read so far) !! aka the chronicles of one (1) emotionally-unavailable yoon jeonghan where he learns to embrace the notion of Having Feelings ™ ft some of my other fave ships seoksoo and soonwoo

Jack of all trades... (cheolhoon, 21k words, completed)

absolutely went down a cheolhoon rabbit hole after this... their dynamics are one of a kind and i love it so much

stillness and motion (seokhao, 21k words, completed)

give me a fic about emotionally-repressed characters that yearn and do everything but communicate and i'll eat it up!! the tension built up between (former) teammates in sport aus are a different breed and i'm absolutely here for it

For Want of Glory (woncheol, 21k words, completed)

secret agent au! loved woncheol's dynamics here, and it's really endearing to read from coups' pov because i love the way he just PINES

you make me feel good (i like it) (soonwoo, 18k words, completed)

no spoilers but this was an absolute beast of a fic that DESTROYED me the best way possible :"") each chapter was succinct yet packed a punch, loveloveloved how the element of time travel was weaved into the storyline!! op you are a genius for conceiving and writing this

Storm Warning (wonhui, 18k words, completed)

jun as a manic pixie dream type here is everything!! ww's feelings are so valid bc if jun was my neighbour, i too, would fall in love right away HAHA

now i'm covered in you (soonwoo, 16k words, completed)

it's the art of dealing with grief and moving on in a sweet and tender fic - highly recommend!

say you want me (cause I need it, all of the time) (soonwoo, 15k words, completed)

this is wonwoo as everyone's dream high school boyfriend lol

burning the wick at both ends (soonhoon, 14k words, completed)

getting back with an ex is never a good idea... unless it's jeongcheol

full ten (minwon, 14k words, completed)

super adorable strangers-to-roommates-to-lovers fic!! i really loved that they each had their own lives (preferences, habits, jobs and interests) before they met each other, and coming to live together only made their lives better - there's just something about the intimacy of co-existing in the same space with someone, bonding over simple weeknight dinners, developing a shared routine over time :"")

favorite (minwon, 14k, completed)

this was a v lovely friends-to-lovers fic - really loved the timelapse of small moments between them from both perspectives!

helios (minwon, 13k, completed)

a literal masterpiece - great execution of a cool concept, and wonwoo's persona as an artist was really well-crafted!!

runaway (verkwan, 13k, completed)

this fic highlights an inseparable quality about verkwan, that there'll always be invisible string tugging at both of them, keeping them by side by side - amazing!

day ones all i keep around me (minwon, 12k words, completed)

established (secret) relationship where minwon tries to soft-launch their marriage but their fans are too dense to realise LMAO this was really cute, and i loved the dynamics between streamer!wonwoo x soccerplayer!mingyu hehe

Flowers In My Path, My Love (seokwoo, 12k words, completed)

this was the cutest college meet-cute aka hotpoetryclassguy!wonwoo x cutepoetryclassguy!dk - it really captured the moments of fumbling, awkward shyness when interacting with crushes so well and bonus points for describing dk as sunshine bc he really is the brightest boy!!

light the way home (and i'll follow) (minwon, 10k words, completed)

[doodgiee]

Character lineup of prominant kids in a Riddle School project I've been working on for a long time.

Think I'm going to start calling it Riddle Transferred? Because they're all grown up, they've made the transfer

There's much more to come, but you're allowed this taster.

Canon:

Phil Eggtree: The Phil Eggtree we all know and love, however the guilt and stress of his dream murdering and double abduction have been haunting him.

Phred Whistler: His a little worn and worse for wear, but ever since seeing Phil save the world he's been inspired to live life to the fullest instead of just letting life take him wherever. He's far more motivated than his younger self

Smiley Sundae: With increased pressure with her studies, Smiley's trademark Smile has faded slightly over the years. Her underlying but constant struggle in academic fields has made her question her path for the future, but she'll still lighten up anyone's day with that heart of gold

Zack Kelvin: Despite still learning to deal with his peculiar temperature issues, especially with puberty taking a toll on it, He's definitely become more social after having the opportunity to express himself more without freezing to death. But still lacks crucial social cues. His friends are still helping him with that.

Richy Stud: This pushover has joined the main gang and have been a part of it for a while, serving as the social bridge between the core 4 and the B team of the Riddle Elementary kids he doesn't know them quite as well but still serves as a friendly face. And yes, he collects buttons

Chubb Munch: A gentle giant with a heart of gold. He'll always be a bigger guy comapred to most people, and frankly it never bothered him anyway. But since he vowed to work on his diet his life has never been better

5 08: A little arrogant, but with how charismatic he is it's hard to blame him. His shirt sales have been steady and it serves as more of a hobby than anything else. On good terms with Richy and Phil specifically. He considers Phil his best customer.

Greg Sleep: He's always been a bit distant from his friends, but in all fairness, he's asleep 90% of the time. He remains a bit of an enigma

Joe Kerosene: With his history with the Riddle gang being a rocky middle school life, Joe's not exactly friendly with many of the people he grew up with. He and Phil don't get along at all. Phil considers him an idiot and Joe considers him a snarky prick. He's found company with other people, but he may have bit off more than he can chew

OCs:

Null Rooster-Lea: One of Joe's new 'friends' he's distant, and never seen without a scowl on his face. He's cold, and its better not to cross him

Rodrigo Cwesschyn: Another one of Joe's new friends. He's the son of ex elementary principle Mr. Cwesschyn. Ever since his father has been imprisoned for injuring students, Rodrigo has had to become the man of the house for his mother and siblings. He blames the students that attended Riddle Elementary for his unsteady life.

Cassie Pants: Another part of Joe's group, she's bratty and enjoys messing with people she's directed towards, but she doesn't hold any ill will unlike her friends. She's just a pest, not evil.

Franky Pants: The older brother of Cassie, he isn't interested in the antics and rivalries her little sister gets up to, that's her life to lead. He's pretty friendly, but remains neutral to our protagonists. He just wished his sister made some nicer friends

Kath Penilian : A university student, far removed from the happenings at Riddle High, She's good friends with Richy, meeting over the niche hobby of button collecting. She serves as a friendly, older friend of the Riddle gang, being able to offer an ear to listen and a bit of wisdom.

[mara-tevith-solo]

Fate Thinks She’s Funny

Screw it, I might make this a series. Part of the One Enchanted Evening fic. Reader here has a recycled OC background I made for the MCU. Essentially came to Earth after Order 66 in the 90′s, was forcibly conscripted in the US Military and she gets tangled up in everything because of the Ancient One, the Jedi inability to not meddle, and Billy. It’s a 43k word fic that is no where near complete and probably will never be

Pairing: Adam Warlock x ex-avenger/guardian! reader

Warnings: Canon levels of violence, love at first sight, prospective death, Adam pulling his punches just for you because he hates the idea of hurting you after 0.001 seconds, reader compares him to a Rancor of all things 

Words: 1.8k+

Rated: 18+ as always

It was the crashing that alerted you initially, pulling you from the half-sleep you had managed to finally fall into. You didn't even bother shutting the door to your apartment behind you as you went to investigate, Groot wrapped around something on fire shooting past without much preamble. You were fully awake before he was out of sight, already trying to calculate his trajectory to be there to stop him. You ran over walkways and tight wires, not truly looking where you were going besides making sure the way was clear, making sure that no one would get hurt from the debris. It barely occurred to you that you were only dressed in one of Stephen's old shirts and a pair of sleeping shorts, your main concern being the citizens, and then the attacker.

A mother and child huddled on main street gave you pause, the mother trying to shelter her screaming child as debris began raining down towards them. Protecting them with the Force was reactionary, no really thought put into it until they were safe and you were on the move again. You skidded to a stop on a catwalk as Kraglin's arrow smacked the man harmlessly across the cheek, making him stop angrily in his tracks "Who threw this thing at me?" He demanded sharply, looking around the rubble he'd created. No one dared to answer him, all of them hiding and fighting to remain silent despite their fear. He looked, disarmed by the fear, choosing to move on "Baby." He chided before continuing on his path.

Landing on the attacker was easy, he was strutting through main street like he owned the place, like he wasn't trying to tear it apart bit by bit. He fell to the ground under you with an annoyed yell, your claws sinking into his shoulders before you were moving off of him, twisting and throwing him over your head and down into the ground with a shout. You didn't wait for the dust to settle to grab him again, hoisting him up to his feet as he tried regaining his barrings. For a moment, one single solitary moment, your eyes met, gold giving way to his pupils as they dilated, his breath stuttering as his golden lips dropped open the barest fraction. There was something star struck in his expression, something you forced yourself to not dwell on as you let go of his tunic just long enough to Spartan Kick him further away from where he'd thrown Nebula. He didn't go far, landing on his back with a forced exhale before he was clambering up to his feet with a bewildered glare "Do that again and I'll be forced to kill you." He was warning you as he shook the dust from his person, not taking his eyes off your form.

"Pity." You huffed, calling my saber, reaching back towards your apartment.

"What's that? What is the purpose of that?" He asked, genuinely curious, tilting his head like a puppy. It genuinely caught you off guard, both the fact that he genuinely didn't know what you were doing, and the fact that he seemed so innocent in that moment. You didn't answer him, instead taking a ready stance as soon as the hilt was in your hand, the familiar hum and yellow hue a comfort. He blinked, taking in your position and your weapon before deciding that you were still intent on being a threat, powering up with a frustrated grunt and a silent snarl, his hands engulfed in blades of light. It was like dancing, fighting with him, meeting him strike for strike even though it didn't feel like his heart was fully in it. He depowered one hand enough to grab your saber hand, immobilizing it no matter how hard you struggled, making you grab his arm that was still powered up, holding it above both of your heads in a struggle of wills. "I do not want to kill you." He admitted with a grunt, trying to break the hold you had on him.

"Not the first time I've heard that." You growled back a little bitterly, straining against him for a moment before you saw an opening and took it. Your forehead collided with his, a resounding crack! echoing through your head and the square as he cried out in pain, stumbling blindly back in retreat. "Fucking hell." You groaned, doubling over as you pressed your freehand to your forehead, trying to sooth the ache that was still blooming there. You could feel the tale tell tickle of a small track of blood dripping down the bridge of your nose, but didn't think much of it as you focused an eye on him, watching him recollect himself with that snarl of his.    

"Are you always this stubborn?!" He asked you indignantly, throwing his hands out with exasperation.

You couldn't stop your expression if you wanted to, open bewilderment taking your face by storm as you just stared at him "You're trying to kill my friends! Of course I'm 'being stubborn'!"

"I just want the squirrel." He rebutted as though it was so simple.

"You can't have our friend! He's not property!"

Before he could say another word, Drax grabbed him and began throwing him around "Pick on someone your own size!"  

You wanted to just hide somewhere as you backed away from the two men, your heart pounding deafeningly in your chest as Drax threw him into the headquarters sign "Y/n!" You could hear Mantis calling desperately from the med center, tears in her voice spurring you into action, ignoring the suddenly very determined man as he lifted himself from the dirt. You had to stop, your eyes glued to the scene, as the man met Drax hit for hit, matching every bit of his strength easily. It made you want to throw up. You watched, helpless, as beams of light came from the man's hands again, Drax barely able to stop them, holding the man at bay with groans of strain. "Y/n! Help!" Mantis wailed again, but you couldn't tear your gaze away as the stranger's power began to whine audibly, getting brighter and brighter until he was blowing Drax back with it.    

As soon as he straddled and began pummeling Drax you were in motion, charging without a thought of your own safety. You dove at the last possible moment, only loosing a cry when your shoulder collided with his ribs, ripping him off of Drax and into the dirt with you. Scrabbling for dominance in the dirt with him, you didn't care to use finesse, or any true skill. He'd already proven that he was ridiculously strong, that you had to fight dirty to get any advantage. You barely paid attention to the darkening of his cheeks and neck as you straddled his waist and tried to punch his lights out, your fist raining punishment into his pretty face over and over again as your other hand kept you anchored to him, fisted tightly into the collar of his tunic. He seemed more concerned with trying to fend off the blows than fight back "ENOUGH!" He roared under you, almost succeeding in turning over under you as he tried to protect himself. You didn't listen to him as you pressed him back down, driving your fist into his sternum as you continued to punch the daylights out of him. "I said," He grabbed you by the thighs, his hands engulfing them by nearly half before he was usurping your position, driving your back into the dirt, his weight pressing down between your legs "enough!" It was only at that moment that he seemed to realize the position he had put you both in, making you feel like you were on fire as he stared down at you with those wide doe eyes that just screamed innocence.

You blinked back up at him, suddenly uncomfortable with the vulnerable position, your grip on his collar almost slackening with the shock that you liked it, until Drax groaned in pain, snapping you back to reality. Your legs tightened around his lower ribs, locking at the ankles behind him as you squeezed for all you were worth, not letting up as he sucked in a panicked, ragged breath. His hands found your thighs again as he sat up, dragging you up with him as you resumed punching and he tried pushing, his fingers digging painfully into your flesh, trying to pry you off before you constricted him to death. In a split second he gave up trying to get you off of him, his hand molding around the column of your throat like it was made to be there, cutting off your own breath as he pressed you back down into the dirt with a heavy glare. You tightened your hold on his ribs defiantly as you tried to pry his hand off, snarling right back up at him as he reared his fist back to finally fight back. A glowing blade erupted from his chest, instantly taking the fight out of him as he incredulously looked from you to it "That... hurts!" He breathed as golden blood dripped from the tip of the blade and down onto your shirt, immediately standing out from the blood sweat and dirt that clung to it.

"What a pity." Nebula growled from behind him as his hand loosened around your throat, allowing you to suck in a greedy lungful of air that had never tasted so sweet. The man looked back down at you as you gulped down ragged breaths past your burning throat, a small trickle of blood dripping past his lips as he grunted in pain. You let him go as soon as the blade retreated, letting him fall to the dust beside you. You couldn't look at him, it hurt to and you couldn't figure out why, why his imminent death was going to bother you. He'd been trying to kill your friends since he'd arrived on Knowhere and yet... "Still alive down there?" Nebula's voice broke you out of your thoughts and slammed you back into the moment as the man continued to suffer quietly beside you.

She was fighting a ghost of a smile as she offered you an arm "He hits like a Rancor." Your voice was still rough as it passed your burning throat, your healing taking its sweet time as you accepted her help to climb to your feet. She just shook her head with amusement before going to Drax, leaving you there. You didn't want to, but you looked down at the man, acknowledging his gaze as he turned onto his back, his eyes begging you for help "I'm sorry, I didn't want it to end like this." The words felt right as they hit the air, your chest aching at the idea that he'd die there. You were quick to turn away from him and limp to the Med Center, your thighs shivering with every step. You didn't want to face his death, didn't want to acknowledge it and you couldn't figure out why.  

[holyratrimony]

Summer Love at Bighorn Ranch

Pairing: John Marston x Fem!Reader

Summary: After his divorce from Abigail, John Marston is a mess. A series of rash decisions lead to John purchasing a rundown piece of land called Bighorn Ranch. As the ranch grows, so does the need for extra hands. When you show up, ready for your new job, John is immediately taken with you. When you get caught in a thunderstorm and show up on his doorstep, soaking wet, will he be able to keep his feelings to himself, or will he confess everything? 

Word count: 9.7k (how does this keep happening?)

Warnings: minors dni, 18+ only, I’ll kick you in the knees I s2g, do not read this,  dry humping, premature ejaculation, coming in pants, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, p in v sex, creampie, older man/younger woman

A/N: This takes place during the 90s, John’s in his forties, R is like mid-20s, Jack is like 10 in this, hedgehogs are not rodents but John doesn’t need to know that, also R wears John’s clothes at one point (as someone who's plus size I think John would own pretty baggy clothes), John is mega horny in this (in like a very pathetic way), how’d angst get in here? (it's just a lil bit), John thinks he is in charge but R has him wrapped around her finger, no physical descriptions of reader, no use of y/n, not beta read

To say John wasn’t doing well would be an understatement. After the divorce with Abigail, he’d hit a bit of a midlife crisis. The first step was moving out and subsequently crashing in Dutch and Hosea’s guest room. The two older men were patient with him, lending him some much-needed emotional support as he processed his feelings. After about a month, one drastic haircut, and a new earring, John finally was ready to move out to a place of his own.

He’d decided to return to his roots, taking out a rather large loan and purchasing a run-down ranch on a large piece of land in the middle of nowhere called Bighorn Ranch. The land was green and vast with a mix of plains and forests. It only took three days of him trying to lay the foundations for the house alone before giving in and calling Charles and Javier for help. The two men had come to his aid quickly, and with three hands they were able to get the ranch house built within just a few months. Then the barn, stables, and coup went up, followed by a half dozen small cabins about a mile from the main house. Both Javier and Charles opted to live in the cabins despite John’s protests, stating that they wanted to give him his space in the house. Ranching made sense to John. It was something he was good at. Whether it was keeping up with all the chores or breaking in the wild mare Charles found wandering the plains. As the ranch grew, so did the need for more hands. Javier had been tasked with taking the truck into the nearby towns, the closest being 30 minutes away, and hanging up help-wanted posters. The new ranchers would live on the property in the remaining cabins and would be responsible for a mix of construction, maintenance, and handling of the animals. Within a few weeks, four new hands had joined the ranch. The hands were set to arrive on a sunny spring afternoon. John was waiting on the porch with Charles and Javier, a lit cigarette dangling from his fingers. His hair was still growing back since the regrettable impulse cut, the ends reaching his ears. His beard was short, little more than stubble. The scars he’d gotten from a neighborhood dog when he was growing up cut through the dark hairs. He’d kept the small gold hoop in his ear despite the light teasing from Charles and Javier. The three men were discussing the horse show that was coming up next month when the sound of a car cut them off. The red and white Dodge Ram 2500 rumbled up the dirt drive, kicking up a small cloud behind it. The truck pulled up in front of the house, stopping next to John’s teal and silver Ford F-150. Three men in their twenties piled out of the truck, each sending a friendly smile and wave toward the older ranchers. John, Charles, and Javier made their way down the porch steps, John stubbing out his cigarette on the railing. The new hands introduced themselves, apparently all childhood friends which explained why they arrived together, shaking hands and giving names. After introductions, John showed the men around the main part of the ranch. Showing them the stables, the coup, and the different paddocks for the sheep, goats, and cows took up the better part of an hour. As they headed back towards the house John let them know that that was probably enough for right now. Once they were on the porch he explained the basic amenities in each cabin. They’d have electricity, a small kitchen, a bathroom, a bed, and a landline. John handed them each a slip of paper with the number for his line, letting them know that if they needed Charles or Javier they’d be living right next door. Charles offered to take the boys down to the cabins and Javier offered to join, citing that he needed to change out of his dusty work clothes. The boys hopped in their truck and followed after Javier and Charles, the cloud of dust slowly getting further and further away. John took a seat on one of the chairs on the porch, looking down over the property. There was still one new hand that was supposed to be arriving, likely within the next hour. John pulled another cigarette from his pocket, cupping his hand around his lighter as he flicked it, protecting the flame from the wind. Heady smoke filled his lungs as he leaned back. The three boys seemed nice. All were well-mannered and friendly. One of them, Riley, John thought his name was, said he’d worked at the MacFarlane’s ranch for a few years, dealing mainly with the horses. The other two mentioned they’d worked doing construction for the last few years. Apparently, they wanted more exciting work and while the MacFarlane’s didn’t have any more jobs available, they knew Bighorn was hiring and sent the boys in John’s direction. Javier had handled the applications, of which there were few. He was typically in charge of the business end of things despite the ranch belonging to John. Javier had a charm and refinement that was perfect for dealing with people and local businesses that John seemed to lack. John’s mind began to drift, as it often did when he was alone, to Abigail and Jack. He had Jack for a few days each month. The last time Jack came to visit, John had shown him how to ride. The two of them didn’t talk a whole lot but the time they spent together always felt special. Jack had a room in the ranch house, filled with his medieval fantasy books, a couple of his toys, and a small gaming setup with a sega genesis and little box tv. Jack had tried to teach John how to play Sonic but John was hopeless. His fingers were too big for the little buttons and he just couldn’t get the hang of moving that damn rodent around. He missed Jack, every damn day. Abigail too, but that was getting easier. His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of tires on the dirt road. A grey and blue Chevy Silverado pulled up the drive. John stood up, a slight groan leaving his lips. He was only in his forties but his years of hard living seemed to be catching up to him. He moved down the steps, his eyes trained on his boots until the sound of a car door slamming shut had him looking up. John’s heart stopped. Or he couldn’t breathe. Or he died. He wasn’t sure. All he could tell was that the woman in front of him was like a dream. The late afternoon sun shone on your form, bathing you in a golden glow. Your eyes were covered by sunglasses, a black shirt adored your torso while your legs were covered by a pair of blue jeans, and a pair of brown work boots on your feet. Your smile was easygoing as you raised a hand in greeting. Your voice was kind and warm as you greeted him. “Hi! I’m one of the new ranch hands. Are you Javier?” John let out a laugh at that, trying to compose himself.   “No, no, I’m John. John Marston. I uhh… I own Bighorn.” He was trying not to let his eyes drag over your body but he couldn’t help himself. “Jav-Javier’s in charge of the business side of things, you’ll meet him later.” “Nice to meet you, Sir,” A spike of heat seemed to pierce through John at the title. The smile etched on your face was radiant as you gave him your name. God, you were pretty. John cleared his throat as he attempted to avoid looking directly at you. “The other hands got here bout an hour ago. They’re down at the cabins right now. Ya wanna join them or do ya wanna tour of the ranch?” His hand rubbed the back of his neck almost sheepishly. He couldn’t help but wishing you’d take the tour. Selfishly hoping to get some one on one time with you before introducing you to the other men. He finally mustered the courage to look up at your face. Your smile seemed almost shy as you replied, stepping towards him slightly, “I think I’d like to see the ranch, Sir.” He was fucked. ~~~~~~ Having extra hands on the farm proved to be endlessly helpful as spring turned to summer. The animals that had been born only a few weeks after you and the boys arrived were growing bigger and bigger. The four of you also helped John and Charles bring some of the horses to a show in one of the neighboring towns, bringing in a pretty sum of cash. John was beginning to feel a little more at peace. The loans for the ranch were beginning to get smaller and smaller as he paid them off. The stress on his shoulders seemed to be lessening as the weeks went by. His self-deprecating thoughts being replaced with thoughts of you. To say John was enamored would be putting it lightly. To start with you were a good worker. Often working longer hours than necessary, going until you felt the job was complete. At the end of the day, you’d slump onto the steps of the porch, your shirt sticking to your chest, your skin glowing, a blissed-out smile on your face. John would come out and offer you a beer. There would normally be only five minutes where you were alone before the rest of the men joined the two of you. John tried not to resent it, knowing he had no claim over you, but god he wished he did. John found himself staring at you as you moved around the ranch. Whether you were carrying bales of hay to the stables, pounding in nails on the fence you were fixing, or helping break one of the new horses. John would let his gaze drag up and down your body before catching himself. He would reprimand himself. Reminding himself that you were a. Almost twenty years his junior, b. Likey dating one of the younger hands (a thought that had made him prone to snapping at the young men without much prompting), and c. wouldn’t want a broken man like him. He’d scold himself, telling himself he was a pervert for looking at you like that, for wanting to take you, claim you. But he couldn’t seem to stop the thoughts from creeping in late at night. When his rough hands fisted his cock and he’d think about you on your knees for him, your lips and tongue running up and down his length as you looked up at him with those pretty eyes. Or how you’d feel wrapped around him. What you’d sound like as he took you from every position imaginable. How you’d react if he pinched your nipples, if he spanked you. Despite being alone in that big house he’d bite his fist as he came, moaning out your name as the drag of his hand became too much. When the lust had passed and his cock softened, cum drying on his stomach, and reality set in, he’d mutter to himself, “You’re a fool, Marston.” The sentiment never seemed to stick because he’d see you bend over in that pair of jeans the next morning and would be stuck fighting the arousal that seemed to surge through him for the rest of the day. He was jacking off like a teenager, seemingly unable to control himself. When he spoke to you he’d stumble over his words, never being able to fully articulate his thoughts before getting lost in your eyes or your smile. Charles and Javier had picked up on his infatuation. Relentlessly teasing him when it was just the three of them. There was one day you were going to run errands in town. You’d stopped by the house to ask if the men needed anything else picked up while you were there. The day was already blazing hot despite it only being midmorning and you’d opted for a sundress. The fabric was light and airy around your thighs, the neckline cutting down to show more of your chest than was strictly necessary. John, Charles, and Javier had been in the kitchen, waiting for the coffee to brew, when you knocked, letting yourself in through the front door. “Hello?” Your sweet voice echoed through the house. “In the kitchen,” Charles called back. When you entered the kitchen it took everything in John not to drop the mug he’d just grabbed from the cabinet. The flush on his cheeks was immediate. He could feel his jeans getting tighter as he took in your form. He could feel his mouth hanging open slightly. He was only drawn out of his trance by Charles’ gentle elbow in his side. Luckily it seemed like you missed the small interaction. “Mornin’ y’all.” you nodded to Charles and Javier before turning to John. “I’m heading into town and was wondering if there’s anything you need me to pick up, Sir.” John could barely manage to shake his head. “T-that’s very nice of you but I think we’re all set sweetheart.” The endearment slipped out of his mouth before he could stop himself. You nodded as you slipped your sunglasses onto your face. “Alright, I’ll see y’all, later.” You shot a dazzling smile towards the men as you turned, exiting the kitchen. John was able to stew in his slight mortification until the sound of the front door shutting echoed through the house. As the latch clicked John felt his friend's knowing gazes on him. Charles was the first to speak. “I’m not gonna lie to you, that was hard to watch. ‘Sweetheart’? Really?” The teasing lilt to his voice almost had John hiding his face in embarrassment. Javier clasped a hand on John’s shoulder, giving him what could only be described as a shit-eating grin. ��Oh, you’ve got it bad, brother.” John let out a long groan, debating adding a bit of whiskey to his morning coffee. He was gonna need it if he had to put up with these two for the rest of the day. That night he came in the shower, fantasizing about fucking you dumb as you bent over in that pretty little dress for him. Then again later in his bed at the idea of your legs wrapped around his head, calling him sir as he ate you out until you cried. ~~~~~~ The storm that overtook the skies a few weeks later came out of nowhere. The dark and heavy purple clouds seemingly materialized out of the clear blue sky. Lightning and thunder breaking up the peaceful feeling of the ranch. John was in the house when the rain began to fall. The drops pounding against the roof creating an unrelenting din. He walked away from the window he was looking out to the phone in the hallway. He should probably call Charles and Javier. They’d taken the truck into town and were probably still at the mechanic seeing as the owner was an old friend. He dialed the number for the garage but was only met with static. One of the phone lines must have been knocked down in the storm. He’d have to check around the property whenever Charles and Javier returned with the truck, likely tomorrow at the earliest. John’s mind flashed to you, as it often did. He hoped you were back at your cabin, safe from the torrential rains. You’d been up at the ranch this morning but probably headed back with the boys earlier in the afternoon. He was pulled out of his thoughts by a frantic pounding, different from that of the raindrops. Someone was knocking on the door. He crossed the room, hand twisting the door open to reveal your drenched form. You were dripping wet. Your jeans were several shades darker than they had been earlier, your white t-shirt was essentially translucent. John tried to not stare at the black outline of your bra showing through the shirt or at the way the fabric clung to your skin, showing off your form perfectly. His gaze was brought back to your lips as you spoke. “I’m sorry to barge in like this, Sir. I-I was with the horses when the storm started and the thunder spooked some of them. I had to round them up.” He shook his head at your words. “Come on inside darlin’, you must be freezing.” You nodded, stepping in off the porch and onto the mat inside the doorway as he stepped back, making room for you, letting the door shut behind you. “Let me go grab you a towel.” He grabbed his favorite towel from the bathroom, trying to ignore the little voice in his head that was unhelpfully pointing out that the soft fabric would soon be running over your body. As John came back out into the hallway he took in your form once again. You looked miserable and cold, trembling slightly. He handed you the towel, ignoring the spike of heat he felt as your hands brushed his. “Do you have your truck?” His raspy voice was gentler than usual. You shook your head. “Wanted to enjoy the walk this morning,” you chuckled slightly. “Well, I think that means you’re gonna be stuck here for a bit. The phones are down, the boys are at the cabins, and Charles and Javier are in town with the truck. ‘N I’m not risking you walkin’ back in this weather.” You nodded again, a small smile gracing your features at his concern. John was still trying his best not to stare at your chest, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to hide the growing outline of his cock for much longer. “You’re welcome to the shower if ya’d like. And I’ll bring you a change of clothes too.” As you toed off your boots you let out a sweet “thank you”. John showed you to the bathroom, before running to his room to grab a shirt and sweatpants. He placed them on the shelf in the bathroom before turning back to you. “The extra room is yours for tonight. If you need anythin’ just holler.” Your voice stopped him on the way out of the room. “Thank you, Sir. You’re very kind.” He chuckled lightly, “I’m just tryna help. ‘N you can jus call me John, sweetheart.” Your smile broadened a bit, “Well, thank you, John.” He nodded, barely finding the strength to close the door behind him. God, that was worse. His name falling from your lush lips. His mind grabbed onto the sound, playing with it, twisting it until he was imagining you calling it out from underneath him. As the latch clicked shut he leaned back onto the hallway walls, pressing the heel of his palm into his growing erection. “Get it together, Marston,” he muttered. He moved to the kitchen, trying to forget the shape of your body, the way the tops of your tits were visible through the wet fabric. He grabbed a bottle of whiskey and a glass from the cupboards, pouring himself a generous amount. He quickly drank the amber liquid, hardly registering the burn in the back of his throat. He poured another glass, just taking a sip from it this time. He could hear the water from the showerhead, even in the kitchen, and was trying to not get distracted by the thought of your body in the shower. He wished he could walk in there, wrapping his arms around you as you rinsed the day off. He’d trail soft kisses over your neck as he lathered soap over your form. He could imagine the noises you’d make as he kneaded your shoulders, the little groans that would leave your perfect lips. He shook his head, he needed to distract himself. His eyes caught on the clock across the room, it was getting late, and the both of you would probably be hungry soon. He opened the fridge and glanced over the contents. The mostly empty shelves seemed to glare back at him. He dropped his head into his hands, frustrated at himself. You were in his home and he couldn’t even make you a proper meal. He was so distracted by his perceived downfall that he didn’t hear the shower turning off, nor the click of the bathroom door and the footsteps that followed. “Sir?” Your gentle voice pulled his eyes up. You were standing in the entrance to the kitchen, his shirt hanging off your shoulders, his sweatpants hugging your hips. His gaze dragged up and down your body. You weren’t wearing a bra. Your nipples were hardened from the cold, the outline of them visible through the worn material. His voice was gruffer than usual as he forced it out around the lump in his throat, making his eyes meet yours. “I thought I told you to call me John, darlin’.” You nodded sweetly. “Alright, John.” His name sounded so sweet on your lips. He needed some sort of distraction. He grabbed the whiskey bottle from the counter, raising it for you to look at. “D’ya want a glass?” “I’d very much like that, thank you.” “How was your shower,” His full focus was on pouring a glass for you and topping off his own. Looking at you was almost too much. “It was really nice. Your water pressure is amazing!” your exclamation had John stiffening in his jeans once again. The idea of you in the shower, groaning as the water hit your shoulders, running in rivulets down your chest. He put the bottle back on the counter a little harder than he meant to, turning around to hand you your glass. The amber liquid on his tongue was a necessity for this situation. “I’d uh, I’d offer ya dinner but ‘m not much of a cook.” He rubbed his hand on the back of his neck at the admission, his cheeks tinted red. He was a grown man and the majority of his meals came frozen or from a can. “I could make something for us,” your voice was kind, soothing almost. John shook his head almost immediately. “I’m not gonna make you do that darlin’. Don’t want you to have to take care of my ass.” “I really don’t mind it, John. Plus I’d like to eat at some point.” Your tone was lighthearted as you grinned at him. After a little more back and forth he conceded, allowing you to take over the kitchen. You shooed him out of the room, telling him it’d be ready soon. John settled in the living room, flipping on the tv to try and drown out the thoughts of you. He couldn’t seem to stop. The whiskey wasn’t doing much to help. He’d occasionally flip between channels, but nothing was quite able to grab his attention. The idea of you in his house, in his kitchen, in his clothes was so domestic. The idea of walking up behind you while you cooked, wrapping his arms around you, kissing your neck, it was intoxicating to him. But he couldn’t lie and say his thoughts were completely innocent. Images of you in various compromising positions kept flashing through his mind, now accompanied by the sound of you whining his name. About half an hour later you emerged from the kitchen with two steaming plates of spaghetti, setting them down on the dining room table. When John walked over to join you the smell hit him. It was heavenly. How you’d pulled together something like this out of the pathetic ingredients he had available was incredible. As the two of you ate dinner you made idle conversation. John had talked to you a few times since you came to the ranch but he could never seem to hold a conversation. Too overwhelmed by your presence when you were close to him. Now he didn’t have much of a choice. He learned a little bit more about your life before you came to work at Bighorn. When you’d both finished eating, John offered to clean the dishes. You didn’t argue, letting him gather the dirty plates. “It's still pretty early so if you want to put on a movie while I clean up, you're more than welcome to.” You agreed and he told you where to find the tape collection. As he washed the plates in the kitchen he scolded himself. You’re too old for her, Marston. Pretty young things like her aren't interested in broken men. You’re an old fool. Once the dishes were cleaned he took a moment to lean against the counter, holding his head in his hands. He had to get it together. As far as he should be concerned you're just his employee and he should treat you as such. Seeing as he’d finished his whiskey before you had brought out dinner, he grabbed a cold beer from the fridge. He called your name towards the living room, asking if you wanted one too. You shouted back a yes. He uncapped the two beers and walked back to the living room. You were curled up on the right side of the couch, your legs tucked up off the floor, a blanket from the chest near the window wrapped around you. You looked warm and comfortable. John pointedly ignored the pang of affection that shot through his chest as he handed you your beer. The couch was small but he still tried to give you space. He didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. But even with his hip pressed against the arm of the couch, your legs still brushed against his thigh. He had to keep his breath steady as he could feel the warmth from your body. He recognized the movie you picked as Jurassic Park, one of Jack’s favorites. You were only at the part where the scientists were on their way to the island. “‘S a good choice,” he gestured at the tv. “The movie I mean.” “It’s one of my favorites!” God your smile was cute. He wanted to make you smile all the time. As the movie continued, the two of you sat in comfortable silence. However, John was very aware of your presence next to him. Of the press of your legs against his. In trying to ignore the heat in his stomach and the feeling of you right next to him, he was staring very hard at the tv. When Ellie jumped off the ride to go look at the stegosaurus, you shifted towards him, moving your legs to the other side of you, your torso almost pressing into his side. “I still can’t believe how real it looks! It's crazy!” The excitement in your voice made a smile form on John’s face. Subconsciously, he moved his arm to the back of the couch, giving you room to move in, to lean against him if you so desired. He didn’t even register he had done it until he felt your body press against his, tucking yourself under his arm. He couldn’t stop the small hitch in his breath at the realization that you were willingly cuddling up to him. He was sure you could probably hear his heartbeat from your new position. He tried to keep his eyes on the movie but it was hopeless, his gaze focused intently on you. When you raised your head to look at him he wasn’t quick enough. You’d caught him. He was caught off guard by your hand pressing into his chest as you pushed yourself up. You were still close to him, but you were now upright, your chest turned towards him. Your gaze was calculating as your tongue traced along your bottom lip. He couldn’t help but stare at the movement. The indecision seemed to leave your eyes as you noticed what he was staring at. You leaned towards him slightly. “John,” your voice was soft as he finally was able to drag his gaze to meet yours. Your eyes were dark, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip. “Kiss me.” His brain stopped. Or his heart stopped. He wasn’t sure. Maybe both. All he could manage was a small nod. His hand moved to grasp the nape of your neck, bringing your lips to his. The kiss was passionate, a mess of tongues and lips, of gasping breaths. John ignored every part of his brain that was telling him to stop. That you were too young for him, that you were his employee, all of the reasons that he shouldn’t let this happen. The feeling of you drowned out everything else. When he nibbled on your bottom lip, you let out a small moan. The sound sent blood rushing to his cock. All he wanted to do was draw those noises out of you. To hear every little sound you’d make in the throes of pleasure. Your kisses were as greedy as his, seemingly trying to savor every second of your embrace. He was able to pull himself away for a moment, pressing his forehead to yours as his hands came to cradle your head in his large hands. “Darlin’,” his voice was rougher than usual. “Are you sure you want this? Are you sure you want an ol’ man like me?” The glare you gave him was more chiding than actually frustrated. “First of all, you're not old. Second, I’ve wanted this since I started working here. Wanted you since that first day.” Your confession sent a shiver through John. “Really,” he couldn’t stop the slightly desperate tone that laced his voice. You nodded, smiling at him. “How could I not?” Your answer was simple but it sent a swirl of affection and mild pride through him. He moved a hand to your waist, you seemed to take it as an invitation to move onto his lap. Swinging your body so your legs rested on either side of his thighs. In this position, John allowed his hands to roam over your body. Tracing up your back, trailing down your sides, he let them come to rest on your ass, grabbing the flesh and pulling you against him slightly. The movement caused your hips to press against his hardness. You gasped loudly. His first reaction was worry that he’d done something wrong, but that thought left his mind when you rolled your hips against his again. He was painfully hard, his cock pressing against the confines of his jeans. He could feel the small wet spot forming in his underwear, his tip leaking precum. Each move of your hips felt like heaven. The feeling of you, in his lap, wearing his clothes, making those desperate little sounds as you ground yourself against him, was better than any of the fantasies he’d had. He was meeting your movements, thrusting up. The feeling was overwhelming, and when you attached your lips to his neck he keened. He let his hands slip under the hem of your shirt, just trailing them along the soft skin of your hips at first. When you didn’t make any move to stop him, he began to trace higher and higher. Fingertips brushing over your sides, your ribs, and then your tits. God, they were so soft. He let his hands pinch your nipples experimentally. You had to move your mouth from his neck when you let out a high-pitched moan. “Do that again,” your voice was tantalizingly desperate. “Please, John.” He complied, unable to deny you anything you asked for. His fingers twisted and pulled at your sensitive buds, rewarding him with your gasps and breathy moans. He pushed you back slightly in his lap, moving you so you were sat upright. He looked up at you as he brought his face to your chest, wrapping his lips around one nipple while continuing his ministrations on the other. The look on your face was the prettiest thing John had ever seen. Your lips were parted, your eyes squeezed shut from the pleasure, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you held on. You’d paused your hips when he moved you, allowing his pleasure to subside. When your eyes opened, your pupils were blown wide and lust practically dripping from your gaze, he couldn’t help himself from thrusting his hips to yours. His hands moved back to your waist, his eyes never leaving yours as he rolled his hips again, the pressure from your body providing him the slightest bit of relief. He’d been able to calm himself for a little bit, but with his hips humping against you and the look in your eyes, he was driving himself toward the edge again. He couldn’t help it. Couldn’t bother to be embarrassed about the needy moans leaving his mouth. It was almost without warning that he felt the pleasure in him swell as his balls drew up. The stimulation of your warm body rubbing against him sending him over the edge. His cock pulsed in his jeans, releasing spurt after spurt of hot cum. He came with a harsh gasp followed by an embarrassing whine of your name, his hands clutching you tightly as he kept humping you, drawing out the sensations. When his high began to subside he was overtaken with embarrassment. He’d finally gotten a chance with you and he’d cum in his pants like a goddamn teenager.   Your voice was small. “Um…John. Did you…did you just cum.” All he could do was nod as he buried his head in your shoulder, unable to fully look at you. Your hands buried into his hair, holding him sweetly. “It’s okay, John. It happens.” He couldn’t bring himself to look you in the eye. He’d ruined his chance. “I-I’m so sorry.” he managed to get out. You let out a soft coo as your hands moved to cradle his face. “You’ve got nothing’ to be sorry for. I promise.” He tilted his head up, his gaze meeting yours. There was nothing in your eyes to indicate disgust or displeasure, just kindness. He nodded dumbly as he took you in. “Wanted this to be good for you, sweetheart. Been thinking of this for ages and I fucked it up.” You shook your head. “What makes you think you won’t be able to make it up to me?” your smile was teasing as you tilted his chin upwards. Hope sparked in his chest at your words. “Like right now?” desperation leaked into his voice. You nodded sweetly. “If that’s okay with you.” John couldn’t stop his overenthusiastic nod. “Well in that case I think I owe you somethin’” He shifted you off his lap, allowing you to stand. “My bedrooms, the door on your right, down that hallway there. I'll be there in just a moment.” As he stood you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, bringing your lips to his once again. You then leaned in, allowing your lips to brush the shell of his ear. “You better, or I’ll be left with no choice but to take care of myself,” you pushed away from him, a sly grin on your face as you shot him a wink and started in the direction of his room. John watched you leave, letting his eyes drag over your form, his thoughts notably absent of the guilt that would plague him whenever he’d looked at you before. When you were out of sight, he went into the bathroom, quickly cleaning himself up. As he walked towards his room he felt what could only be described as butterflies in his stomach. You were far too good for him, in every single way, but you were here, you wanted to be with him, to have him touch you. He couldn’t help the dopey smile that broke out across his face. He pushed open the bedroom door to find you standing in the middle of the room, seemingly taking in your surroundings. At the sound of his footsteps, you turned to face him. “You ready to make it up to me, Mr. Marston?” Your teasing voice was cut off as he closed the space between the two of you and pulled your body into his. His lips crashed into yours, his hand coming to rest on your jaw. His tongue swept across your bottom lip, almost asking permission, which you granted. You tasted like the whiskey from earlier. He began to walk you backward, your steps hesitant until the backs of your legs hit the edge of his bed and you fell onto your back. You looked so beautiful below him. You scooted yourself toward the headboard as he dropped his knees onto the mattress. He moved up until he was settled between your legs, his body pressed to the bed as his hands came to rest on your thighs. “I wanna taste you darlin’,” his fingers brushed against the exposed bit of skin that was visible between your shirt and the band of your sweatpants. “Would that be alright with you?” When he lifted his eyes to meet yours, your pupils had swallowed your irises. Your gaze was heavy with lust, your teeth sunk into your lower lip as you nodded. “Please, John. Need you.” His hands hooked over the band of your sweatpants, pulling them down over the tops of your thighs. He couldn’t look away as more and more of you was revealed. As soon as the sweatpants had slipped off your feet, his mouth met your inner thigh. His hands moved to the insides of your knees, gently pushing you apart for him. He traded between kisses and gentle nips as his mouth trailed over the sensitive skin. “Take off your shirt for me sweetheart.” his voice was low, filled with desire. You quickly obeyed, tossing the fabric to the floor and settling back against the bed. John couldn’t believe that he was here, between your thighs. He couldn’t count the number of times he’d thought about this, in this same bed as he fucked his hand. And now it was happening, it was real. He felt his cock jump slightly, blood beginning to return to it. You were whimpering under him, clearly frustrated at the lack of attention being paid to your dripping cunt. He could see the small wet patch forming on the cotton that covered you and his mouth watered. He couldn’t resist dragging a finger over your clothed slit as his mouth continued along your thigh. You let out a high-pitched moan when his finger ghosted over your clit. God, he wanted to draw more of those noises from your sweet lips. “Don’t be impatient now, sweetheart. I’m gonna take my time with you.” His voice was even raspier than usual, dripping with lust. You thrust your hips slightly at his words, trying to get more from him. He pressed your hips back to the bed with one hand, holding you still, tutting his tongue at you. He dragged his mouth higher, his lips pressing against the cotton of your panties. He smirked slightly before grabbing the hem of them between his teeth and dragging them down your hips. When you were rid of them, he couldn’t help but take you in. “John,” your voice was sweet with want. With need. His hands moved back to your inner knees, pushing your legs apart for him. Your cunt glistened with slick, the insides of your thighs shining with it as well. He couldn’t wait to taste you. He was laying between your legs again, his face only inches from your heat. This was better than anything he’d imagined. You were a dream and he wanted to show you how much he wanted this, wanted you. You let out the most intoxicating noise when he licked a broad stripe over your entrance, his nose bumping your clit. Your hands, which had been gripping the sheets at your sides, moved to his hair, tangling your fingers in the dark locks. You were the sweetest thing he’d ever tasted. He wanted to drink you in, the taste of you like heaven on his tongue. He wanted to drag it out. To tease you with soft licks, turn you into a begging mess. But that would take patience and John Marston was not a patient man. He buried his face in your pussy. His tongue laving over you as his nose rubbed against your clit. If he were to die right now, he’d die a happy man. His hands dug into your hips as he dragged you closer to his mouth. He was trying to memorize everything that made you moan, made you tug on his hair, or try to grind your hips against his mouth. The moan you let out when he wrapped his lips around your clit was absolutely sinful. “Johnnn,” your breath was labored, making it hard to form full sentences. “P-please,” you begged. “Please what, darlin’? What d’ya need?” His voice was teasing as his gaze met your lust-darkened eyes. “Please finger me, please. I need it, please, please, John.” He would’ve liked to tease you more but he was quickly realizing that he couldn’t resist doing anything you asked of him. “How could I say no when you sound so sweet beggin’ for me.” He brought his mouth back to your clit as one of his fingers traced lightly over your slit. You were so goddamn wet, the mix of your slick and his spit shining in the low light of the room. You shivered when he pushed a finger in, just to the first knuckle. He felt you clench at the invasion, making him let out a soft groan. He pushed his finger fully inside you, crooking it up to press against your walls. You let out a loud whiny moan at the sensation. He continued slowly dragging his digit in and out, brushing against your g-spot each time. He wanted to draw this out, show you how good he could make you feel. His mouth continued the assault on your clit, as he finally gave in and added another finger, much to your delight. Your hips rocked against his hand with each thrust, your back arching when he would slowly brush over that sensitive spot. He could feel you getting wetter, your breaths becoming shorter, the words leaving your lips barely discernible. “J-John, I-I’m gonna cum,” he could barely hear you as you wrapped your thighs around his head, your hand yanking on his hair, pulling him closer to you, trying to reach your peak. He sped up slightly, not enough to disrupt your pleasure, but just enough to have you gasping loudly. John felt you clench around his fingers, once, twice, and then you came. Looking back on it, he wished he could’ve seen your face, but he was so lost in lapping up the rush of slick from you. He could do this for hours, knelt between your legs, eating you out until you were exhausted or until he had his fill, whichever came first. He only pulled off of you when you tugged his hair trying to push him off as your thighs fell back to the mattress. He looked up at you, taking in your disheveled face. Your lips were slightly swollen from your teeth biting into them, your eyes were dark, your chest rising and falling rapidly with your breath. “Sorry darlin’, ya just taste so good. Couldn’t help myself.” He was grinning like an idiot. You returned his smile as you muttered, “you’re damn good at that.” “That mean I make it up to ya?” You nodded, “Doesn’t mean we’re done here though.” John’s cock jumped at that. Eating you out had turned him on more than he’d care to admit, his cock had become hard and heavy, pressed against the mattress. “Thank god for that,” his raspy voice was only slightly teasing. A small smile broke out across your face as you shook your head at him, your hands pulling him up to you. He knew you could taste yourself on his tongue, the thought driving him slightly crazy. He’d propped himself up, his arms on either side of you, keeping mind to not let his whole weight rest on you. You pulled back, the look in your eye intrigued him. You looked like you had a plan. Before he could register what was happening, you’d flipped him over, sitting on top of him, your body on display. You leaned forward slightly, your finger trailing along the buttons of his shirt. “I think you’re wearing far too much clothing.” John could only bring himself to nod, as he took in your form. He was in awe. Your fingers began to work on his buttons, undoing them one by one. As more of his chest was revealed you brought your mouth to gently kiss across his skin. He could feel his mouth hanging open slightly, his heart pounding as you showed him a gentleness he hadn’t felt in a very long time. Your touches were light and adoring. As more of him was revealed to you, compliments and sweet words spilled from your lips. Your lips trailed across the scars that littered his chest, murmuring, “you’re so beautiful, John.” He felt like he was being worshiped. Like you were treating him like something to be treasured. When your fingers undid the last button of his shirt, you helped him slip it off of his shoulders, tossing the fabric to the floor to join the other discarded garments. Your hands traced along his chest, running through the smattering of hair across his pecs. Your hands drifted down further, your fingers dragging lightly through the dark hair of his happy trail. They came to rest on the waistband of his jeans, tucking underneath the fabric slightly, your nails teasing the sensitive skin. Your eyes were dark as you looked up at him, asking for permission. He nodded, maybe a bit too enthusiastically. You made quick work of the button and zipper, your fingers once again hooking over the sides as you pulled his jeans and boxers down in one go. His cock sprang up from the fabric, leaking and red, the head practically dripping precum. John knew his dick wasn’t something to scoff at but he still felt self-conscious. That was until he raised his eyes to your face. “Oh, John,” your words were soft, you seemed transfixed, your hand coming up to wrap around him, your fingers only barely able to touch around his girth. He couldn’t help the hiss that escaped him at the pressure. Your hands were light, tracing along the vein that ran up his length, ghosting over the head, your thumb swept at the slit, catching a drop of precum. He was captivated as you brought your thumb to your lips, your tongue darting out to taste it. He couldn’t take this slow teasing, he couldn’t wait any longer, he needed to be inside of you. His hands gripped your hips, lifting you before flipping the two of you once again. God, you were so beautiful. His naked body pressing against yours. His hand reached up to trace your jaw, fingers coming to a rest on your chin, tilting your head to look at him. “Are you sure you want this?” As much as he dreamt of you, as much as he wanted this, he needed to know you felt the same. That this wasn’t something one-sided. Your hands reached around him, settling on the back of his neck, the smile you gave him was sweet, the lust in your eyes seeming to give way to something softer, something he’d dare call adoring. “John, I don’t know if you’ve noticed but I’ve been the one pursuing you all night. I know what I want. I know I want you.” He couldn’t formulate a response aside from bringing his lips to yours. The kiss was sweet at first but quickly sank back into something laced with sinful intents. He only pulled back to reach into the drawer of his nightstand, his hands tracing over the contents, searching for a condom. “John,” your voice was smaller than it had been a minute ago. “I-I’m clean. Got tested a bit ago. I, uh, I’m also on the pill.” His gaze was unable to leave your face as he tried to make sense of the words. His brain short-circuiting. When he didn’t respond, you continued, “S-so, I mean if you’re clean, we- I’m okay if we don’t use one.” He nodded, slowly at first, then with barely contained enthusiasm. “God, woman. You’re gonna be the death of me,” he whispered as his lips met yours once again. The kiss was chaste, cut short by both of your eagerness. John moved back, kneeling between your legs, one hand languidly stroking his cock as he looked down at you. He used his other hand to help scoot you forward, tipping your hips up slightly as your legs wrapped around his waist. He ran his tip over your entrance, tapping it against your clit. A shudder ran through your body as you let out a frustrated groan. He did it again, relishing in the way you squirmed as he refused to give you what you so desperately needed. “John,” your voice was clipped, stern. “If you don’t fuck me right now, I’m going to leave and go finished myself off…alone.” He got the message, letting his tip stop at your dripping entrance before pushing in slowly. The heat and the tightness that met him was almost overwhelming. He had to stop himself from pushing in all the way in one go. He tried to go slowly, an inch at a time, but the way you were wrapped around his length was too much. Before he could stop himself, his hips thrust forward, entering you to the hilt, his balls pressed against your ass. He managed to let out a strangled, “sorry,” as he rested inside you, unmoving. You had gasped at the sudden movement, but now with him still, pressing incessantly into your g-spot, you were beginning to gyrate your hips, encouraging him to begin to move. His hands had come to rest beside your head, holding his body over yours as he slowly brought his hips back before thrusting into you. You moaned loudly as his body met yours. The pace he started was slow, purposeful. One of his hands moved to cup your jaw, bringing your lips to meet his in an almost loving kiss. He was holding back, not wanting to speed up for fear of hurting you. You seemed to not care as you pulled your lips back from him. Your gaze met his, it was hard and determined. “I’m not a doll, John. I'm not gonna break.” You brought your lips to his ear, the brush of them sending shivers down his spine as you whispered, “been waiting for this for months. Fuck me like you mean it.” You barely had time to draw back before he began to pound into you, his pace unrelenting. The moans leaving your mouth were heavenly, intoxicating. He wanted more. He moved his lips to your throat, biting and sucking the delicate skin. The whine you let out when he nipped you particularly hard had him grinning against your neck. He brought a hand up to your tits, tweaking your nipples like he did earlier on the couch, teasing you. He felt you grip down on him whenever he pulled or pinched especially hard. He was panting, both from the physical excretion as well as the overwhelming pleasure. He could hear how wet you were with each thrust, the noises your body made driving him to thrust a little harder. “You were fuckin’ made for me, sweetheart,” he growled out between breaths. As heat coiled in his stomach, he kept remembering what you had said. How you wanted him to cum inside of you, how you’d wanted him for months. He needed to see it when it happened. Needed to see what you’d look like stuffed full of his cum. His thrusts slowed as he shifted off your neck, his hand leaving your chest as he sat up. He removed your legs from his waist and instead lifted them until they rested on his shoulders. When he leaned back down again, his hands came to rest on either side of your head, essentially folding you in half. He gave a hard thrust into you. The new angle made him sink deeper, his cock brushing against your g-spot with each stroke. Even though you felt tight before, now every move he made had you squeezing him. He knew he couldn’t possibly last much longer but he had to make you cum before he did. Had to give you a reason to do this again. You were letting out a steady stream of curses each time he pounded into you. Your hands gripping the sheets, bunching them tightly in your fists. Your eyes were black with lust and your mouth hung open, sweat shone on your forehead and chest. You looked like a fucking angel. John couldn’t help the praise that dripped from his lips. “You’re such a good girl for me, ain’tcha. Taking me so fuckin’ well.” He moved one of his hands to your clit, rubbing it in tight circles. “Wanted you since I first saw ya. Wanted to take ya right on the porch.” “John,” you let out a breathy whine. He kept going, “that day you came over in that stupid sundress. Looked so sweet in it. All dolled up. Wanted to bend you over. Wanted to fuck you until you were screaming my name.” He gave a particularly hard thrust, emphasizing his words. “W-wore it for you,” you managed to get out around harsh moans. He could barely think through the fog of pleasure that permeated his brain. “That’s my girl,” he grunted. His hair was sticking to his forehead, his chest flushed red, sweat beading on his skin. He was so fucking close, for the second time that night. You’d made a mess of him. “Fuck,” your body seemed to be almost shaking with pleasure. “J-John, I’m gonna cum. P-please don’t stop, feels so good.” He kept his pace and seconds later you were clamping down on him like a vice. Your body shook with the waves of pleasure that washed over you. The sensation of you squeezing around him sent him right to the brink of his orgasm. His thrusts became sloppy as he chased his high, his balls drawing up, his pants becoming harsher. “C-cum inside me, John. please,” your worn voice all but begged as your eyes met his. Those words were the final push that threw him over the edge. He thrust once, twice, three more times before spilling inside you. His vision was overtaken by white. He rocked into you as the waves overtook him. He could feel the tingling sensation in his fingertips, in his toes. When he seemingly came back into himself, the sight that greeted him was heavenly. You were spread below him, chest still heaving, bottom lip swollen from kisses and bites. Your hands which had been gripping the sheets now ran up and down his sides, helping bring him back down from the mind-blowing orgasm. He lowered your legs from his shoulders, pulling out of you with a soft grunt. He couldn’t help but watch as his seed leaked from your hole. His fingers moved without thought to stuff his spend back inside you. He only stopped when you let out a slightly pained moan, igniting a feeling of worry in his chest. “I’m sorry sweetheart, I didn’t mean to hurt ya.” You smiled and chuckled weakly, “s’okay, just sensitive right now.” He wanted to press a gentle kiss to your temple but couldn’t muster up the courage. He stood up from the bed with a small groan. “I’ll be right back sweetheart, gonna clean up.” He stumbled off towards the bathroom, wetting a washcloth and wiping himself down before tossing it into the hamper. He grabbed another cloth, making sure the water wasn’t too hot or too cold before he wrung it out and returned to the bedroom. You were in the same position as you’d been when he left, but now your legs were closed. He knelt before you on the bed. “You okay with me cleanin’ you up?” you nodded sweetly, your eyes closing as he gently swiped the rag over you. When he was done, he tossed the rag to the side, letting it join the pile of clothes already on the floor. He didn’t want your time together to end, but he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable either and the doubts were beginning to creep in on the edge of his mind. “You, uh, you don’t have to sleep here, with me, if you don’t want,” he started, staring at his hands. “The other room’s still free if you'd like.” When he brought his gaze to yours he was met with something he could only describe as affection. “I’m not going anywhere if that’s alright with you,” your voice was kind as you smiled at him. “Now come to bed, I’m getting cold here all alone.” He couldn’t contain the grin that broke out on his face. He laid down on his back, his arm outstretched, inviting you in. You curled right into his side, your head coming to rest on his chest and he wrapped his arms around you in return, holding you close. Despite just being inside you, the gentle cuddling had him blushing harder than he had all night. He didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, but for tonight, under a sky of dark clouds, and the steady pounding of rain on the roof, you were his and he was yours. And that was good enough.

I know this was super long for a one-shot smut fic but if you made it all the way through, I hope you enjoyed it! This was my first time writing smut from a man's perspective so I'm sorry if anything was weird. I just love John Marston very much <3 Comments/criticisms are always welcome! Crossposted on AO3 @holyratrimony​ <3333

Taglist: @cowboydisaster​

This fic was inspired by this post by @butchdutch

[cosmos-coma]

More Geralt content PLEASEE 😭

Something angsty with a happy ending maybe

Savior

A/N: I'm not really sure if this is the angst you had in mind but this idea has been bouncing around my head for a few days now.

Pairing: Geralt X Reader

Words: 767

Warning: blood and violence (canon level), unedited

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Your mind was woozy and spinning around the dimly lit room. Your tongue tasted metallic and vile as blood coated your tongue. 

“I won't say anything…” You repeated, your head lolling forward as you tried desperately to focus on the face in front of you. 

A few weeks ago you had come into an extremely valuable journal belonging to a long-gone member of the school of the Bear. It detailed the entire process and materials on how to turn someone into a witcher. Everyone had thought that knowledge had disappeared along with most of the witchers after the sieges, but it seems that one had the wherewithal to write it all down beforehand. 

You knew that none of the wolves supported making any more witchers, their own childhoods being proof enough of how shitty it was, but you thought it best to have in case anything catastrophic were to happen.

“You’re a bad liar. I know you found it, I just need to know where you're keeping it hidden…” He wiped the blood from his knuckles and tightened the leather straps that held you affixed to the chair. “You’re making this far harder than it needs to be…”

“You’re making it harder than it needs to be..” you tried to throw back at him, but between your swollen black eye and the concussion you're 90% sure you had some of it came out slurred and directed about 6 inches too far to the left. 

“I think you’re all done here.” A new voice came, low and familiar, and as you forced your good eye fully open you saw the familiar flash of white hair and gold eyes. 

“Geralt…” you sighed in relief. As you looked over him you saw his stance rigid with pressurized anger and something dark in those Yellow cat eyes that stirred something deep inside you. 

You let your eyes close as your Witcher rushed towards your captor, the thuds of fists against flesh echoing about the small stone room. “Geralt..?” you called after a minute, once the noises all stopped. 

“I’ve got you now, bookworm… I knew we shouldn’t have brought that journal around in the open.” came his soothing voice not far from your face. The leather straps came away from your wrists and ankles and calloused fingers gently touched your cheek. 

Geralt gently touched your split lip and busted cheek, frowning when you winced away from his caring touch. They had done so much to you and all because he had left you alone despite his better judgment.

“Come on, I’ll get you back to the Inn and get you cleaned up, and then we can have a nice dinner on me, okay? They won’t bother you again...” His words melted into you like honey and made your body instantly soften and relax. His arms wrapped around your waist to keep you upright as you raised to your feet, slightly wobbly. 

Your eye peeked open as you walked out with Geralt, catching the bloody lump of flesh that was now curled up on the floor. They might not have been dead, but you're sure they wished they were. Serves them right. 

You didn’t register most of the trip back to the inn, but you did register the sweet gentle embrace of the bed as Geralt laid you back against the blankets. The room was quiet between the two of you as he took care of you with the gentlest touch you had ever felt from him. You just caught the small smile that crossed his face as you leaned into the cold cloth he held against your bruised eye. 

“I’m proud of you, you know…” He mused quietly.

“What for? I got taken and beaten like a rookie…” 

He laughed softly, “You forget you are a rookie, sweetheart,” he said only half sarcastically, “No. It’s because I saw the scratches and bruises on that guy that took you. You fought back well- we just have a few things to work on for next time.” 

You winced as your split lip stretched into a small smile, but you couldn't help the way your witcher lit you up. “You’re a big softie, Witcher… I globe you so much..” 

He snorted and shook his head as he brushed your hair out of your face. “ Did you mean ‘love’ perchance?” 

“You mean love…” you half laughed, half grumbled as you pulled his hand over your eyes to cover the aching light that shined in your eyes. 

“Okay, I think that’s the concussion talking, sweetheart. But I ‘globe’ you too.” He said with a ridiculous grin.

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Taglist: @writingmysanity @open--till--midnight @dark-academia-slut @madamemelancholysstuff

Let me know if you wanna be added to the taglist!

[averagewriter-inthedark]

Spike It, Baby 🏐 | Javy 'Coyote' Machado Headcanon

TGM Masterlist | Content Warnings: slight canon divergence

Being a professional beach volleyball player for Team USA and marrying Javy Machado would look like:

Having grown up in Santa Monica, California in the 90s & 2000s, you learned to play beach volleyball before riding a bike. Both your parents were athletes, your mother a beach volleyball player who made it to the 1996 and 2000 Sydney Olympic Games when you were only a child. Watching her inspired you to continue the legacy, the goal of becoming an Olympian on your mind. 

You'd already been in the circuit and playing for Team USA when you met Javy in 2012 during your junior year of college. He'd just graduated from flying school, celebrating in Los Angeles before having to report to his duty station when he stumbled upon your NCAA tournament at the beach. The pilot pretty much falling in love with you right there as he saw you deliver the winning spike. Jumping for joy in the sand with your partner as y'all received the trophy. 

At the bar that night you two ran into each other, Javy offering to buy you a drink which you accepted. The two of you sitting on the outside porch where you talked the entire night. Not wanting to depart even when your friend groups were ready to leave. When it did come time to, numbers were exchanged with the promise of meeting up for a coffee or dinner. For you, it was a double win that day--securing the tournament trophy and a date with a handsome pilot. 

As your relationship progressed, a lot of time was spent a part for various reasons. Javy running missions, leading to his first assignment at Top Gun in 2014 before settling at Lemoore where he met Jake. You had tournaments throughout the year, both stateside and international. Your man--and sometimes Jake--made sure to be at every US tournament you competed it, the loudest in the stands where he was decked out in a t-shirt with you and your partner on it. "Let's go, baby! Show them how it's done" *whistles* "Best spike in the country--full of fire!"

Qualifying for the Rio Olympics was a dream come true. Falling to the sand on your knees after scoring the winning point with your signature spike. Javy and Jake were losing in their minds in the stands, the former in tears and wishing nothing more than to jump the barricade to hug you. Your partner was screaming, y'all's coaches clutched in a group hug. It was a memorable sight. You mother, the 2x Olympian, was a mess as well- considering your debut games marked the 20th anniversary of her debut. 

The Rio Olympics was the experience of a lifetime. Not to mention a silver lining moment for you and your partner. After a spectacular run in your pool play, following a successful quarterfinal, you faced off against the other team from USA, the 3x Olympic gold medalist Kerri Walsh Jennings and her partner April Ross. In a breathtaking match, leaving spectators in the stadium and watching around the world on the edge of their seats, you scored the winning point to send you both into the gold medal match. "Wow, wow, wow! Unbelievable! The #1 team in the world--Walsh Jennings & Ross--have been knocked out of the finals by their fellow Americans. They will go for the Bronze against the Brazilians, while the duo from Santa Monica, California will face off against the Germans." 

Despite losing the gold, you walked away with a silver medal and that in itself is an accomplishment. After all, you achieved your childhood dream of becoming an Olympian, continuing the legacy of your mother. Still, it wasn't over yet. You and your partner got back to the beach with your team and dominated the 2017-2019 seasons. Javy, your main supporter alongside your family, proposed and the two of you got married--on the beach of course. There were times him and Jake challenged you and your partner to a match. They were rusty in the beginning, but soon the pilots got pretty good after several games. You can expect them to kick ass against their coworkers. "Where the hell did you learn to do that, Machado? How are you guys so damn good at this?" Jake would smirk and nudge Javy, "What, have you been living under a rock? His woman is the best beach volleyball player in the country."

Following the success of the Uranium mission in 2019--which had you deathly afraid of losing Javy---the candidates became a little family. By now your relationship with Javy was known to his colleagues, not to mention your success in the world of sports drew a large following. People came up to you at the beach or stopped you on the sidewalk to asks for pictures. Natives of California in the Navy recognized Javy, "Hey, your wife won silver at the Olympics!" "That's right she did. And she's gonna get the gold this year at Tokyo--I know it."

The first time Maverick saw you play, he couldn't help but think back to his time at Top Gun. Where he and Goose played against Ice and Slider. The memory bringing a smile to his face as he watched you and Pheonix play against Javy and Jake. The boys complaining of Pete's calls as refs, citing he was favoring you and Monica. "That was totally out of bounds!" "Not from what I saw, sport."

Unfortunately, the Covid-19 pandemic resulted in the Tokyo Games to be postponed a whole year, and when they finally came it was ruled only coaches and athletes were to attend. No spectators. That meant Javy, your family, and the squad had to watch from Fightertown. It was like Deja vu when you made it to the gold medal match, facing your fellow teammates of USA again. You can expect the Hard Deck to explode when you delivered the match point, securing the gold medal with a beautiful spike, sending the ball into the sand to fast the other team had no time to react. "She did it! She fucking did it!! My baby is an Olympic Champion--Penny ring the bell!!" Yeah, you could hear the squad's cheers and screams miles down. 

When you touched back down on U.S soil, you sprint across the airport to jump into Javy's arms, cameras from the photographers flashing and the welcoming crowd cheering. Javy spinning you around, the rest of the squad joining your hug with flags waving in the background. As per tradition, you placed your gold medal around Javy and your parents, who all were beaming with pride. "Damn this is heavy." "The weight of a champion in the palm of your hand." 

The legacy of your golden run in the sport of beach volleyball would continue to the city of Paris. Where you became a 2x champion with not only your husband and parents in the crowd, but also your two-year-old daughter. Not losing a set the entire games, a beautiful scene with the Eiffel Tower sparkling down upon the stadium. Then four years later, in the Hollywood lights of Los Angeles--miles away from the place that started it all, you ended your career with another gold draped around your neck. Where your daughter witnessed you be crowned once more as the champion of women's beach volleyball, sparking the moment she became consumed with the dream of Olympic glory. 

"Mommy, I want to be like you when I grow up." "Well, you can do anything once you put your mind to it. All you have to do is set it in your sights, and spike it, baby."