#drunk ass bikers

[borderlinebatshit]

Put in for a job either bouncing or barbacking at a local dive bar and I hope its the latter because while I do not want to exhibit any internalized homophobia bouncing in LGBT bars is much easier because the coterie of drunk twinks and gender non conformists Ive dealt with in that capacity are far less threatening than drunk bikers.

[blueberrisdove-sideblog]

☆ tws : nsfw (mdni), size kink, pūssy eating, creampie, bending over mydei’s motorcycle, cock drunk reader, spanking, mentions of reader drooling, semi-public sēx and biker boyfriend mydei.

The roar of Mydei’s bike was thunder between your thighs, but nothing compared to the way he made your whole body tremble.

He pulled into the alley slow, one gloved hand tugging the brake, the other gripping your waist like you were his to own—and god, you were. That helmet came off and so did your breath, because his sweat-slicked blond hair was wind-whipped wild, and those red-tipped strands curled at his brow like danger licking at your skin.

“You ridin’ with me,” he growled, voice gravel-hot, “means you hold on tight, bunny.”

You nodded, dizzy from the scent of leather and gasoline. Then his hand slipped lower—way lower—palming your ass through your skirt like he owned the road and you too.

“Good girl,” he smirked, licking the corner of his mouth, “Hope you’re not wearin’ panties.”

Your stomach flipped. You weren’t.

The bike wasn't the only thing that purred when he kicked it back into gear.

The moment he kicked into park behind that crumbling gas station, Mydei dragged you off the bike like a prize he earned. His golden armor clinked as he pressed you against the brick wall, hands greedy, spreading your thighs with a growl low in his throat.

“Been thinkin’ ‘bout how fuckin’ tiny you are,” he rasped, voice curling like smoke against your neck. “My mouth’s gonna ruin this pretty cunt before my cock even gets a chance.”

You whimpered—drooled, actually, lips parted in a needy gasp as he dropped to his knees between your shaking legs. His fingers hooked under your skirt, yanking it up, exposing that soaked, bare slit. “Fuck, bunny,” he groaned, voice thick with hunger. “No panties again? You just beggin’ for me to eat you raw.”

And he did.

Tongue broad and filthy, licking you up like it was his first goddamn meal in days. He groaned into your pussy, the sound vibrating right through your core. When he sucked your clit into his mouth and bit, you squealed—legs twitching, eyes fluttering, drool spilling from your lips as your brain melted.

“Mmn, that’s it,” he growled, pulling back to spit right on your swollen folds, then diving back in, tongue fucking you, slapping your thighs when you squirmed. “Can’t even sit still, huh? Gonna have to spank you for that.”

You cried out when his hand came down—smack—hard on your inner thigh. Then again. And again. Each time your pussy clenched around nothing, desperate for more.

“Look at you,” he laughed darkly. “Droolin’ like a dumb girl… all over your chin, makin’ a fuckin’ mess.” He reached up and slapped your cheek, not hard—just enough to make you gasp and clench harder. “You like this? Like bein’ small and ruined on my tongue, yeah?”

“Yes! Y-Yes—!”

He stood up fast, towering over you now, cock straining thick and angry in his pants. “You think that little cunt can take me?” he snarled, gripping your jaw with one gloved hand. “Gonna split you open on this fat cock, baby. And you’re gonna thank me.”

But not before he bit your thigh again, leaving his teeth—marking you.

Because Mydei doesn’t share.

And tonight, neither will your body.

Your thighs were shaking, slick dripping down them, mouth slack and glossy with drool, eyes all glassy like your mind had already left your body—but Mydei wasn’t done with you yet.

He grabbed you by the waist, turned you around fast, bent you right over the seat of his roaring hot bike. The leather was scalding on your bare skin, but that only made you moan louder.

“Aww, look at this lil' thing,” he cooed, voice low and mocking as he dragged his thick fingers between your folds. “Drippin’ all over my seat like a fuckin’ mutt in heat. Gonna have to fuck the sense back into you, huh?”

He gave your ass a heavy slap, and you squealed, arching like a good girl. Another slap. Then a bite—right on your hip. You cried out, thighs twitching.

“Such a tiny little hole,” he muttered, unzipping with one hand. You could feel it before you even saw it. The weight of it against your thigh, hot and heavy—way too big for your poor little pussy.

“Don’t worry, bunny,” he whispered against your ear, rubbing the fat, leaking head right against your swollen entrance. “I’ll make it fit.”

And then—he pushed in.

Slow at first. Too slow. You whimpered, hands clawing at the bike seat, eyes rolling back as inch by thick, veiny inch stretched you open. He grunted like a beast above you, panting, biting your shoulder.

“F-fuck—you’re tight—too tight,” he groaned, hips jerking. “You feel that, sweetheart? Feelin’ my cock knockin’ into your fuckin’ cervix?”

You couldn’t even answer. Just a soft, pathetic little noise came out—drool running down your chin, dripping onto the leather. Your cunt squeezed around him like it didn’t want to let go, already fluttering around him like it was your first and last time.

“Goddamn,” he hissed. “You were made for me.”

He pulled back just to ram in again—hard—slapping into you with a noise so filthy it echoed off the bricks. His pace picked up, brutal and deep, hand wrapping around your throat as your moans turned into desperate, slurred cries.

“Say it,” he growled, eyes wild. “Say this pussy’s mine.”

“It’s—yours! It’s all yours, Mydei—!”

“Damn right it is.”

He reached around and started rubbing your clit, rough and messy, making your whole body convulse. “C’mon, baby. Cream all over my cock. Make it nice and sticky so I can fuck it deeper. Gonna fill you up, yeah? Stuff you full, let it drip out while I bite these soft thighs again...”

You were already cumming—screaming into the night air, body clenching and shaking as he fucked you through it, relentless, like he’d never stop.

And maybe he wouldn’t.

Because biker Mydei doesn’t just take you for a ride.

He owns the road—and now, he owns you.

You were shaking—wrecked, drool stringing from your lips, your poor pussy swollen and pulsing from how hard he’d just used you. But Mydei wasn’t even close to finished. He grinned down at you, sweat gleaming off his chest, red-tipped braid sticking to his jaw.

“You’re not done,” he growled, grabbing you by the waist and lifting you like you weighed nothing. “You don’t cum on my cock and go all limp, baby. You ride it. You show me how desperate that little body really is.”

He sat back on the bike seat, legs spread, cock still glistening, hard and twitching. Your slick and spit everywhere. And then—he pulled you down into his lap, straddling him, thighs trembling as he slapped his cock between your folds.

“You want it again?” he asked, low and hot against your throat. “Beg.”

“P-please,” you whimpered, barely able to speak through the haze. “Please, I—I need it… need it so bad, wanna be full…”

That smirk.

“Then take it.”

You sunk down—slow, the stretch making your head spin, eyes crossing. He was so thick, your body trembling trying to fit him all over again. And when he bottomed out, when his cock kissed your cervix deep and mean, you let out a strangled moan—dumb, slurred, and soaked.

“There she is,” he rasped, gripping your hips. “All cockdrunk already, huh? You feel that? That big fuckin’ thing stretchin’ out your guts, baby?”

You nodded, eyes glassy. “Too big… s’too big—feels so good…”

“That’s right. Let me see that drooly lil’ mouth, sweetheart,” he chuckled, thumb swiping at the spit on your chin. “You look like a wreck.”

He thrust up, and your whole body jolted—a wrecked little cry falling out as you bounced in his lap, the bike creaking beneath you.

Every time you moved, it was like your brain left your body. His cock kissed the deepest, most sensitive spots inside you like he knew what he was doing. And oh—he did. He held you still and fucked up into you, fast and rough, slapping your ass and biting your shoulder, growling like he owned every inch.

“Gonna fill you up now,” he whispered against your jaw, voice shaking from restraint. “Gonna stuff this tight cunt ‘til it’s dripping down your thighs. You want that?”

You nodded, drooling again, crying out, “Yes—yes, please, fill me up!”

“Then take it,” he groaned.

One, two, three more thrusts and he snapped his hips up hard—and you felt it. That hot, wet flood deep inside, his cock twitching and spilling so much cum into your already wrecked little hole that it started spilling out around the edges before he’d even pulled out.

You collapsed against him, whimpering, body twitching and soaked with sweat and slick and everything he gave you.

And Mydei?

He just kissed your temple, laughed low, and whispered:

“Hope you weren’t planning on walking anytime soon.”

© 2024-2025 blueberrisdove-sideblog all rights reserved. pretty please, do not steal my dividers, translate and plagiarize any of my works, or either repost my works in any other platform without asking, thank you!

[p0lyn3sian]

how would the slashers react when their jealous or sulking?

THIS ONE IS GOING TO BE INTERESTING YALL!!!

(Ahem, this drabble was definitely not rushed 🌚)

Slashers: Norman, RZ Michael, Thomas & Bubba, Chucky (Charles) & Tiffany, Billy & Stu, Jason, Sinclair Brothers (Bo, Vincent, & Lester), Carrie, Brahms & Billy Lenz, & The Lost Boys (David, Dwayne, Paul & Marko)!

S/O reacting to slashers when they're jealous/sulking!

Norman:

You love helping Norman around with the motel! You decided to be a receptionist, since Norman is going to take a break talking for a little while. While being the receptionist, you have to deal with rude, nice, and drunk people.. One of your customers was drunk, he decided to flirt with you right in front of Norman.

Most of his flirting was just sexual stuff at you. You were going to tell him to back off, but Norman took care of it. Instead of taking care of it the normal way, he smacked the man's head with a standing hanger for coats, leaving him on the floor with a bleeding spot on his head. (DRUNK MAN GOT K.O. BY NORMAN 💀.)

Realizing that it was his mother's personality that killed the man that was on the floor. You immediately calmed down his mother's persona and then Norman came back to you! He also saw the man on the floor, and looked back up at you and asked if it was his mother that did this. You nodded your head and you both then started to take the body somewhere in the forest. You both then head back into the motel, and Norman makes a hot tea for you to calm your nerves down, and that made you relaxed!

RZ Michael:

You are Michael's nurse, since none of the nurses wanted to be his caretaker. Michael has grown fond of you, because you don't care what anyone says and what you do! You would always give him praises of his arts and crafts, like his masks, drawings, etc!

Sometimes guards call you a weirdo for falling the likes of Michael, which you didn't give a single fuck. You mostly just ignore what people would say to you about Michael, even Dr. Loomis.. His book that he made about Michael is just full of shit, and just makes people more scared of him too. Some of the pages are true about Michael, but most were just pulled out of his ass! Like where did this old doctor get, "He likes to drink toilet water when he is young.." like you know damn well that those words came out of his ass and out onto his book like it was nothing.

There was this guard that likes you, but only sexually because he leaves so many women/men behind and finds new women/men to be his little toy. Which in no way in hell that you'll be his "toy" to play around with! While you were in the lunch room with Michael, Michael would always look at the guard that had been staring at him and you. Sometimes Michael tries to speak to you, but he decides not to, so you then turn around to see the same guard looking at you! You calmed down Michael saying that you could handle it.. (You full on kicked the guard in the nuts, put your hands on his neck and whammed him to the ground 🤣!!)

Thomas & Bubba:

You love these two so much, because of their personalities and their hands! Their hands are bigger than yours and you would always want to hold their hands or most likely squeeze their hand like it's a toy! You love to hangout with bubba by doing his makeup, dress up, or just doing something that he likes! You also love to hangout or help out with Thomas and his chores, sometimes he doesn't need your help with carrying the two big hays onto his shoulder for the cows to eat, it'll always make you blush because of his broad shoulders!

When these two are together, it's like a big scary dog and just a happy little dog! Thomas and Bubba would go with you and Mama Luda at work, because sometimes at home they have nothing to do. You and Luda work at the little gas station where you'll see people that are tourists/people that pass or mostly bikers that live here.. One of those bikers thought it was OKAY to flirt with you right in front of Thomas and Bubba! This biker must had some balls to do that right in front of these two!

While he was flirting with you, you then looked at Thomas and bubba, and those two were sharing looks at each other. You knew what was going to happen to this man, and it was going to be really painful for him.. You shoved the man to Thomas and Bubba, and did a little wave at him. These two immediately took him outside somewhere behind the gas station and started beating the fuck out of him. (After work, these two then got so many kisses and praises from you!!)

Chucky & Tiffany:

These two would be giving death glares at the person that's talking to you. The person decided to start flirting with you, after you helped them with the directions to the bathroom.. Unfortunately the man thought you were by yourself, which you were not at all, until Chucky and Tiffany came from behind the man.

Chucky put one of his hands on top of the dude's shoulder in a tight grip. He dragged the dude into the bathroom for a little "pep" talk. Tiffany then asked you questions if he was weird or if he was touching you, etc. One of you and Tiffany's favorite song came on, and immediately you and Tiffany danced together on the dance floor! (Meanwhile, Chucky did a full on martial arts on the dude, in the bathroom 💀.)

Chucky then came out of the bathroom, and saw that you and Tiffany were dancing together. He loved watching you two have fun, just smiling and laughing with no care at all! The song then ended, which you and Tiffany were breathing heavily and just laughing from all the dancing you both did! Chucky then walked to both of you and asked if it was time to go. You nodded and Tiffany answered with a yes. All three of you then walked out of the bar and headed home, laughing and smiling!

Billy & Stu:

With Billy and Stu, if there was a dude that decided to make flirtatious comments about what you are wearing. Billy would start giving him death glares and Stu would stop being goofy and give him death glares too. It sometimes scares you that Stu isn't laughing or goofing around anymore and acts like a twin of Billy.

These two are always jealous of someone talking to you. They pulled you away from the dude that was still flirting and walked over to the cafeteria for food. While you were busy eating and not paying attention, Billy went to where the dude was and started walking up to him. Stu grabbed your attention to make you laugh or talk about school and stuff.

Stu didn't get lunch, because he was in the negatives and he hasn't even paid a single penny on his lunches. So, Stu ate a big bite of your food and ate it in front of your face! Which made you sad and angry at him, you then didn't want to give Stu your attention anymore, because he ate your food! Stu poked and called your name, but you wouldn't even budge! Stu then started poking you at your sides, because that was where your ticklish spot was! You laughed and laughed and told Stu to stop, but he wouldn't so you smacked his hands for him to stop. You and Stu then laughed together, until Billy came out of nowhere and scared you two! (It scared you and Stu, and you knew it was a good scare because Stu screams like a girl if the scare really got him 🌚!!)

Jason:

Jason doesn't talk, only in sign language or through his body! You were glad that he had books of ASL so you knew what he was saying through his hand signs. There was an upcoming date where there was a party throwing here at camp crystal. Young adults these days don't understand that people are dying and being missing here at camp crystal, but their brains decided to say 'Fuck that, I just want to party and have fun!' and they die anyways once Jason kills them.

You told Jason that you wanted to see what the party would look like, and Jason then started shaking his head 'no' really fast. He hated the thought of you making out with another person, and it always makes Jason jealous! Jason would say some things about parties from his mother in sign language, and you thought it was really wholesome for Jason to look out for you! Instead going to the party, you told Jason that you would help him with the killing since you went to the store to buy some stuff for the cabin. You overheard a group of three girls that were in probably college, saying that the party will be a really big party. Almost a 100 of those students wanted to go, maybe a little more than that..

It was really cold outside, so everyone was inside the big cabin for the big party. You went around the big cabin locking all doors and windows, so that no one will get out once Jason goes and kills everyone in there. Jason already went inside before you did all the locking, you walked to a nearby window where no one could see you, and saw that Jason then struck at the first person he saw. Screams are being heard everywhere in the cabin, some people tried opening the door to run away, but it wouldn't budge so they ended up dying. After all the killing, you made hot chocolate for Jason and made snacks for him too!

Sinclair Brothers:

You would help Bo with the "tourists" that are coming by and just talk to them about the house of wax or something else. You'll also be with Vincent while he's waxing people, and you mostly just want to see his beautiful waxing! You also love hanging out with Lester and his dog, Jonsey! You and Lester will be driving around somewhere to get more stuff for the house, and come back to ambrose.

You and Lester left Ambrose to get more food for you guys, early in the morning. Coming back to ambrose, there was a group who were standing outside of their car. You and Lester realized their car was broken down, so the group asked you both if they could come with you both and make a phone call for a mechanic. You knew what Lester was going to say, and it was a yes. The group hopped into the car, 3 people in the back and one person that was sitting on the right side of you. It was a lady that was sitting by the right side of you, and the other 3 were all men. (You kinda wanted to ask her what she was doing with 3 men, but you also realized that you are with 3 men too, so you didn't want to ask her that 🌚.)

Driving back to ambrose, one of those 3 men started flirting with you. His flirting was starting to get on your nerves and Lester's too, you looked at Lester and saw that his hands on the wheel were gripping, which means that he is getting annoyed and mad at him, and also jealous. You didn't respond to his questions, so he lost interest in doing so. While arriving in Ambrose, Lester got out of his car and held his hand out for you, the girl on the right was jealous because of how Lester is a gentleman, instead of her own boyfriend. The other 2 are her boyfriend's friends and they don't act like a gentleman either. Lester whispered into your ear that he'll be right back, and he walked to get Bo. You lead them to the gas station for them to "call". The same man before started flirting with you again, and he's asking for his ass to be killed, because Bo walked inside and saw him flirting and touching you! (You and Bo killed the other 3 and you left the man that flirted with you to Bo, Vincent, and Lester to torture him.)

Carrie:

Carrie is so sweet to you! You love hanging out with Carrie, because she's not really loud or annoying. She would also listen to your problems whenever you talk to her! Your friends always like to talk to you and not pay attention to Carrie and socialize with her. So, Carrie stays silent and listens to what your friends say.

You get angry at them for not including Carrie! You include people that walk behind your group of friends or when they're not in the conversation. You walked away from your friend group for not including Carrie as you specifically said to include her! Your friend group kept on calling your name to come back, and that they will include Carrie! Well, they haven't.. because some days when you don't show up to school, you would always tell Carrie if they hangout with her, but she would reply with a no.

So, you had enough of your friend group's attitude. They were all a bunch of assholes anyways, because they've lost some really good friends in the group, just from not really talking to them and acting like they don't know them either.. and you decided to do the same thing they've done too. Carrie was really surprised that you ignored your friend group, she asked you where you were taking her. You told her that you are taking her to another group of friends that you have. In that group were the good friends! They saw you immediately and waved at you as well as Carrie too! Carrie then started hanging out with your new friend group and you! She's really happy that she found friends that are really kind just like you!

Brahms & Billy Lenz:

You live in Brahms mansion with Billy too, so seeing Malcolm the grocery boy, makes these two really jealous. Malcolm likes chatting with you about other things instead of groceries. Chatting with Malcolm could lead to things for Brahms and Billy, killing him in front of you or torturing him, either one.. You always feel their presence, like how they give off their stares at you and Malcolm!

You would try and get Malcolm to start talking a little bit faster than usual. You would have to make up things, saying that you have to vacuum the big living room or something else than that. So, Malcolm would try speaking a little bit faster, until Brahms started to bang on the walls. Brahms is an impatient man and Billy is kinda in between. Either way, it freaked out you and Malcolm, Malcolm wanted to investigate what it was. But, you pushed him away from the bangs and pushed him outside of the mansion.

Malcolm was surprised why you pushed him outside, you said your goodbye to Malcolm and closed the door immediately. Brahms and Billy got out of their hiding spot, and both of them looked at you because it was your fault for letting a guest inside, especially Malcolm.. You had to deal with Brahms tantrum, and Billy's ranting saying that you'll leave him and Brahms, etc. You calm down Billy first and deal with Brahms' tantrum next. After these two have calmed down, you then wanted to go to sleep, even though it was the afternoon, but you were really tired trying to calm down Brahms and Billy. They both got in bed with you, snuggling too close and closing their arms around you tightly, so that you wouldn't leave..

The Lost Boys:

You and the boys decided to go to the boardwalk on a Friday night! All the boys were hungry and needed to eat, so they decided to go to the boardwalk with you! While the boys are looking for their next food, you decided to walk to your favorite place for food since you were hungry too. Walking to your favorite food place, you have caught someone's attention. That someone started to follow you, asking weird questions that just makes you cringe..

The man kept on asking you questions, like "are you alone", "do you need someone to cuddle", all that weird shit. You ignored the man, because those questions just make you cringe. The boys definitely knew that somebody was close by their mate, and could hear far away from where they were. They all flew, once the coast was clear, to you. You got your food and sat down, realizing that you could sense the boys. The man still kept annoying you with those questions, until the boys came by.

The boys gave a scary look at the man that was bothering you, and they already knew who their dinner was for tonight. You got up and took your food and walked with your boys back to the cave, because you wanted to eat peacefully without any questions coming out of an asshole's mouth. You all arrived in the cave and you settled in and ate your food, the boys said they'll be right back, and you knew that they were going to eat that man. (They definitely did eat him, and probably made his bones out of necklaces, etc 💀.)

[badjokesbyjeff]

Three guys were sitting in a biker bar. A man came in, already drunk, sat down at the bar and ordered a drink. The man looked around and saw the 3 men sitting at a corner table. 

He got up, staggered to the table, leaned over, looked the biggest one in the face and said, "I went by your grandma's house and I saw her in the hallway, buck naked. Man, she is fine!" The biker looked at him and didn't say a word. His buddies were confused,because he was a bad ass, and would fight at he drop of a hat. The drunk leaned on the table again and said, "I got it on with your grandma and she is good, the best I ever had!" The biker still said nothing. His buddies were starting to get mad. The drunk leaned on the table again and said, "I'll tell you something else boy, your grandma liked it!" The biker stood up, took the drunk by the shoulder and said, "Damn it, Grandpa, you're drunk! Go home!"

[wintrbears]

All is Fair | JJK (TEASER)

Summary: The Dragons, led by your brother, occupy the East side of the city while the Wolves occupy the West. There is only one rule, and technically, you didn't mean to break it. Stay away from the Wolves.

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader, Namjoon x Seokjin (only by reference)

Genre: Biker Gang AU, Fuck Buddies to Lovers, Romeo and Juliet, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Smut, Fluff (if you close one eye and tilt your phone)

Word Count: 20.4k+ (645 for the teaser)

Warnings: minor character death, major character death (not jk or oc), murder, graphic suicidal ideation, dead bodies, depression, reference to drunk driving, orphans/orphaning, running away from home, stealing, beatings, punching, kicking, screaming, crying, stitches, punctured lungs, major physical injuries, facial scars, hospitals, piercings, tattoos, graduate school, libraries, studying, blood, guns/gunshot, knives, gang violence, motorcycles, gay men(?), rivalries, drinking, pet names (baby, pretty, bug (non-romantic)). SMUT: kissing, fingering, oral sex (both receiving), penetrative sex, unprotected sex (she's on bc), cream pie, coming on skin, cum eating/feeding, choking, spanking, spitting, dick riding, missionary, doggy, big dick!jk bc I always strive for accuracy, masturbation (m), grief sex, semi-public sex, ok that's all folks lmk if I missed any.

Author’s Note: One person asked for a teaser and I love to please so here you are! It's pretty much just smut with a semblance of plot at the end lmao. If this gets enough notes I might post one with more plot, but I'll be posting the full fic within the next couple days regardless. Everything above is in reference to the full fic. Enjoy :)

Sitting back on your heels, you place your hands in the space between your knees and bat your eyelashes at him. You know he likes it when you look all innocent despite the nasty things you do together. If things were different, if you were able to be with him in the confines of a bedroom and savor your time together, you’d put on a pretty white set with bows all over just to drive him crazy. 

Jungkook clocks your behavior with a tilt of his head, his tongue pushing against his cheek before he yanks you back and flips you over so your ass is facing him. His hand slowly traverses your back before stopping between your shoulder blades to push your face into the leather. You arch your back for him and wiggle your ass to really get him going. You can’t see him anymore but you hear the fond, deep chuckle. He pulls down your tights and panties in one go before flipping your skirt up so he can see you properly. 

He grabs your ass in his big hands and pulls your cheeks apart to spit on your hole. Your eyes roll back at the feeling of it dripping down your folds. Hips pushing back against his hands, Jungkook just laughs at your neediness before slapping your ass.

“Oh fuck,” you curse. 

He tsks at you disapprovingly. 

“You that cock drunk, pretty? I haven’t even touched you yet,” he says. 

“I know,” you say through gritted teeth.

He bends down to lay across your back and bites on your earlobe before soothing it with his tongue. 

“C’mon, baby. You know I always take care of you.”

He doesn’t allow you to reply before he’s thrusting his cock in and nudging his head against your cervix. Your hands clutch desperately at his seats, fingernails making indentations in the leather, as he rears back before doing it all over again. This man makes you fucking delirious and you wonder if you’ll ever get enough. Lord knows no other man will ever successfully replicate the pleasure he provides you.

Jungkook’s pace is relentless and steadfast and it isn’t long before the friction of his cock sinking in and out of your walls brings you to a climax. He’s an overachiever, though, and he doesn’t let up even as he feels your pussy pulsating around him as you come. He soldiers on, tilting your hips to make you arch even further and send his cock deeper inside you. You feel him in your stomach and it has you drooling where your face is crushed against the seat. 

You pathetically moan out a sound that closely resembles his name as he abuses your hole.

Your next orgasm hits you much faster, riding the wave of your first to bring stars to your eyes yet again. Your cunt squeezes Jungkook impossibly tight when you come and it causes him to shoot his load inside you and stuff you full of him. This man’s cock is too good to ever be obstructed by a plastic barrier. You’re on birth control and neither of you sleep with anyone but each other, so raw it is. 

When you exit the car to move to the front seat, the stars have appeared in the sky. Jungkook drives you home, or what he believes is your home, and bids you goodnight. Once his car is out of sight, you pivot and walk the familiar route to your actual house. 

It’s normal for you to arrive home this late, even before you met Jungkook. Namjoon never questions where you’ve been or you were with, which you appreciate. He understands you need independence and will contact him if you’re ever in trouble. He doesn’t need to study your every move when he only has one rule for you, anyway: stay away from the Wolves.

[marigoldenblooms]

Drunken Confessions - Drabble

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff  x Agent!Reader

Prompt: You never called on her for anything, always staying at a distance from  Natasha. She was starting to think you hated her, that your lingering glances and continual avoidance was because you didn’t want to know her. That changes when you call her drunk off your ass at 1 am. 

MINORS DNI - 18+

Tags: Drunkenness, slight drunken confessions, mentions of harassment, Reader calls Natasha “Natty,” Natasha calls reader “Agent,” Natasha has a motorcycle, fluff, hurt/comfort.

A/N: Had this one in my word counter for a while, and thought I’d finish it up! Quick little doozy, wanted a break from all the smut totally wholesome drafts I have going (although none of my work is not 18+ even without smut content! Once again, Minors DNI!) Biker women own my heart (I’d love to do a proper Biker!AU if anyone’s got any ideas!) Asks/requests are open! Director!N x Actor!R x Actor!W is coming soon... >:))

Word Count: 777 - Read Length: 2 minutes, 50 seconds. Pictures aren't mine, credit to their owners!

~~~ 

It had been a while since you’d been out drinking, and even longer since you asked for Natasha’s help. You were acquaintances, perhaps even coworkers, but she thought it stopped there. You always avoided her- you were a beautiful stranger, lost in the night. And even still, when she heard her phone buzz with your ringtone this late, she picked up without a second thought.

“Agent?” She’d question, brow furrowing as she’d sit up, slinging her arm across her knee. She could hear the sound of cars around you, though from your heavy, stumbling footfalls you weren’t in one. You were drunk. 

“Natty..-“ you’d keen and she’d blush, wiping the sleep from her face as Natasha tried to ignore the sweetness in your tone, and the nickname on your lips- never used for her. She wished it came out of your sober mouth. You’d stop walking and she’d hear you huff, stuck in an alleyway you didn’t recognize. “I think I’m..-lost, I’m lost, fuck-“ 

“And I’m awake,” she’d respond, voice gravelly and thick, but focused as she’d pull on clothes, and you heard the rustle. Your voice would drop into a secretive whisper, still too loud to be actually effective, “Natty, Natty- are you…naked-??” 

“No,” Natasha would be grabbing her motorcycle keys and jacket now, slung loose over one shoulder before you heard the sound of her door, and seconds later the ignition of some vehicle. “I’m coming to get you, Agent. Gimme a landmark-“ 

“There’s a Mc…a Burger King, next to me, mm-“ Your mumble about being hungry was lost on her as Natasha’s tires would squeal across the road, its emptiness allowing her to climb speed quickly. Her voice was closer now, spoken through her helmet’s microphone, “Stay put, I’m on my way.” 

------------------------------------------

“He was… was callin’ me ugly-“ you slur, a blush alighting your cheeks. You’d hiccup, earning a chuckle from Natasha’s focused expression on the road. She’d picked you up minutes ago, careful to drive slower with your arms slung sloppily around her waist. You’d been telling her something about a rude man at the bar, disgruntled by your refusal to ‘go home to his smelly apartment,’ as your mocking voice had put it, “On the inside, and- and the…..outside, mhm!”

Natasha would chuckle again, expecting the insult to roll off your drunken facade, but instead your shoulders shook against her back. Slowing to a crawl on the side of the road, she’d look back to see your face looking crumbled- gleaming with tears. You hiccup again and Natasha turned off the bike, trying to soothe you with an awkward hand around you. She’d pull your side against hers, helmet in the crook of her other elbow as she’d whisper to you, “Hey, hey Agent, it’s alright, shhh..” Natasha’s hand would’ve risen to your cheek, prickling goosebumps down your spine as her thumb would wipe your tears away. Your fingers would’ve risen to hers, taking her palm gently before placing a kiss on it. She’d shift her hand away and you’d meet her gaze- her mouth was open, and your eyes darted down to it. “Natty..” your eyebrows would furrow, pouting as she’d escape your touch, “Why won’t you kiss me, Natty?”

“Because you’re drunk,” She’d roll her shoulders and you’d watch with wonder as her muscles moved beneath thin fabric, Natasha’s coat now on you. You’d have to pick your jaw off the road once you were done. Her words would almost startle you, “And you don’t know what you’re doing, Agent. Why did you call me?” 

“I..” You’d begin, yet your words left you as soon as you started them. You could never think when she was around- distance was necessary for professionalism. You hoped liquid confidence would be enough to bridge the gap, and ask the attractive redhead for coffee tomorrow. You overdid it. You forgot what she even asked, “But I want- want you. Don’t you want me?” 

Your declaration made her smile, and you decided then that you wanted her to do that again. Needed her to. Natasha shook her head, and she thanked your drunken stupor for you not noticing the blush on her face. She’d turn around, donning her helmet again- her voice muffled now, “You’re drunk, Agent. Let’s talk about this tomorrow, alright?”

“Mhmm..” You’d settle, pulling yourself against her back. “So warm..” you’d murmur, crooning into her shoulder. You’d hear the woman snicker, before the bike underneath you thrummed to life. Maybe if that conversation went well, your thoughts sluggishly considered- she’d teach you how to ride it. If Natasha’s playful snicker at your words was any indication, your chance was pretty high.

~~~

[temporarywelcome]

Drunk - Leon Kennedy

Words: 2.3k

Summary: (set not long after the Raccoon City Incident) Leon is busy being sad at the bar, shocked to finally see a familiar face.

CW: alcohol consumption, also written by someone who doesn't know anything about alcohol consumption lol, language, I headcanon Leon did football in high school.

_____

It was safe to say the life of Leon Kennedy was absolute ass. 

His life pretty much just started too, finally graduating the police academy and given the opportunity to live out his dream as a police officer. Which didn’t work out. Big zombie-virus outbreak and all. 

Being forced to work for the US government was not on his bucket list. He was honestly ready to move to a small town with a population of, like, a thousand people, and be an officer there. No drama. Just sitting in a police cruiser looking for traffic violations. After everything that happened at Racoon City, he was in need of a boring life. 

The US government had different plans. 

And he hated it. 

So, there he was, at his favorite place ever now since moving to Washington D.C…. this bar filled to the brim with sad bikers and businessmen. A strange mix, but the drunken stories he heard were always interesting. At least, in his own drunken mind. 

Tonight, the usual cast was there. Tony, this biker who was always getting into troubles with his ol’ lady (and the mob), Juan, another biker who felt ever so lonely due to never being able to find a woman, and Don, a guy who worked at this tech company who felt bad for constantly cheating on his wife. 

Leon did not like Don. 

But he took his seat with them, the small group taking turns detailing their woes and despair as they drank their beers. Tony’s ol’ lady wanted him to leave his motorcycle club. Juan had a date who stood him up. Don had gone fifteen days not cheating on his wife, but was getting “urges”. 

“Why don’t you just get a divorce already?” Leon had asked gruffly, taking a large swig of his drink, “You obviously don’t like your wife. Let the poor woman go, she deserves better,” 

“No no no,” the older man shook his head, running his fingers through his hair. What was left of it. He was beginning to bald, a large patch of hair already long gone. “I love her, I do. I just have to control these urges.”

Weirdo. 

Leon bit his tongue. He thought cheaters were scum. He thought Don was scum. But he did not want to lose a drinking buddy. No matter how gross Leon thought this guy was. 

Don opened his mouth to say something else, pausing when he very noticeably craned his head past Leon’s shoulder, looking past not just him, but Tony and Juan as well. “Shit. It’s so hard to control myself. That woman is a beauty,”

“Don, are you serious?” Tony rolled his eyes in disgust. Leon was sure none of them really liked this guy. “Is this chronic or something? How the hell-”

As soon as Leon turned his head in curiosity, he wasn’t listening. The bickering of his drinking pals was background noise as his eyes landed on the woman Don was eyeing. The most beautiful woman Leon has ever seen in his twenty-two years of living. 

His fucking high school crush. 

Y/N. The stereotypical popular girl. A cheerleader who dated this football player. Homecoming and prom queen. Popular, but also incredibly smart and kind and just so perfect. Leon was a football player himself back in high school, and was actually friends with her boyfriend. So he never dared make a move on her. He respected his friend too much. 

Last he heard, Y/N and her boyfriend had broken up. Not because of anything malicious, but they were going to different universities and didn’t want to do long distance. Respectable reasoning. Considering how much of a wonderful woman Y/N was, Leon was sure she was seeing someone else right now. 

But then… why would she be by herself at a bar? 

He cleared his throat awkwardly, looking straight in front of him. An array of different liquors and bottles of alcohol lined up neatly on shelves. Yes, yes, he will look at that. 

“God,” Don groaned dramatically, head going into his hands, “She’s gorgeous,”

“She's too young for you,” Leon interjected immediately, suddenly feeling quite protective over Y/N, as if he were in high school again. The girl he always stared at from across the classroom, across the lunch table, across the street. They were fucking neighbors.

Always being around her, but not being able to have her was complete torture. 

“Girls love older men,” 

He rolled his eyes, “Not her,”

“How would you know?” Now the older man was getting annoyed, gesturing for the bartender to get him another bottle of beer. 

“Um, just a feeling,” Leon took this as a chance to get his third bottle, politely thanking the bartender. “She just doesn’t look like the type-”

“-Leon?”

Ohhhh shit. He didn’t need to turn around to figure out who the owner of that melodic voice was. Who was the owner of that sweet sound he used to hear every day for four years straight. He knew right away. 

“Oh!” he tried to play it cool as he turned around to face her, “Y/N! You live in D.C. now?” 

Juan was the first of his little friend group to speak, “You know her?” Why did he sound so shocked Leon knew a gorgeous woman? To be fair, Leon did constantly complain about loneliness. The whole point of this little group was to complain about their sad, lonely lives. 

“Yeah!” Leon tried to hide his excitement, hide the joy he felt seeing her. Playing cool completely flew out the window as soon as she smiled at him. It was that easy. “We knew each other in high school!” 

“It’s so nice to see you, especially right now,” Y/N groaned, throwing her arms around him in a hug.

Damn, he didn’t realize how much he needed that. A hug. A familiar face. 

Comfort. 

“What happened?” his arms went around her waist tightly, bringing her against him. Practically on his lap, but he was feeling rather typsy and didn’t think much of it. 

“Ooh, you worked out a lot,” she ignored the question, poking at his bicep, “You’re so much bigger than I remember!”  Her words made his cheeks flush red, and she continued: “Oh, and I’m here because I’ve been broken hearted and in need of getting drunk. You?”

“Well, I’m here because I’m incredibly lonely and in need of getting drunk,” With a grin, he stood up, hands still placed boldly on her hips, “How about we get ourselves a table?” He faced his drinking buddies, who were all looking at him in confusion (Tony), sadness (Juan), and jealousy (Don), “I’ll see you guys around,” 

Slipping his hands from her hips, one took hold of her own, leading her to an empty table. “Thanks,” she said with a small giggle, taking a seat. 

“What would the lady like to drink?” 

“Shots,” she replied right away.

And so he got them some shots, sitting across from her. “Together?” 

Her eyes brightened, “Okay!” She took a glass in her hand, waiting for him to do the same. When he did, she began to count down, “Okay, on three. One… two… three!” 

Together, they both downed their drinks. 

“God, I really need to get shit-faced,” she grumbled, placing down the glass, “Can I vent?”

“Vent away, babe,” He would never call her that in any other instance, but with the alcohol in his system, he wasn’t exactly thinking straight. 

“Okay,” she said okay a lot, “I was dating this guy, right? In law school, promising guy. Supported my career goals, he had his own. Wanted to be a senator one day. Good shit, right? Good shit till I came to his place to find him fucking around with some chick. And get this, we looked alike too! Well, I didn’t really get much of a look at her when I was throwing punches,” 

His jaw dropped, “What? How could someone cheat on you? You’re like… perfection!” he was acting much more dramatic than usual, splaying his arms around expressively, “But… did the other girl know she was the other woman?”

“I’m pretty sure, considering she was laughing at me when I walked in. Made me more pissed. Made me want to beat her ass even more,” she grabbed another shot glass, “Again?”

“Again!” Leon confirmed, grabbing his. 

After they drank their other shot, she continued, “Can’t believe I wasted my time on this guy. No offense, but why is your kind,” she wiggled her fingers at him, “so nasty,” 

He shrugged, “I haven’t been in a relationship in over a year. I haven’t been nasty,”

“Were you nasty before that?” she teased. 

“Wha- no! I’m not like that,” he huffed, crossing his arms over his chest, “I pride myself in being a respectable and loyal man-”

“-I’m just playin’ with ya,” Y/N laughed, “I remember how you treated that one girl you dated junior year. Like she was a queen! It was so sweet,” 

Now he was blushing again, scratching the back of his neck and refusing to meet her gaze. “Ah, jeez, thank you. I just did what I was supposed to as a boyfriend. Anything less would have been completely stupid. Why date someone if I’m not gonna give them my all?” 

“See, that’s how everyone should look at dating,” Y/N nodded in approval, “How everyone… yeah. Yeah, right. Hm,” She grabbed her last glass, not even waiting for him before bringing it to her lips. 

“Only three shots and you’re already acting funny,” he teased, leaning forward and fucking booping her nose. “Silly. Silly billy,” 

“I’m only tipsy,” she swatted his hand away, but he just chuckled and booped her again. “You’re drunk,” 

“I think so,”

“I know so,” 

“Yeah yeah yeah, smartypants,” he reached for his third glass, but she stopped him. “Heyyyy,”

“No more for you, buddy,” She smirked, taking the drink herself. 

“Heyyyy,” he repeated, “That was mine!”

“Too late. In my stomach now,” 

“Ughhh,” he laid his head onto the table, forehead pressed against the cold surface, “My driiiiiink,” he began mumbling to himself before raising his head again, “My drink,”

“Yeah yeah yeah,” Y/N waved the thought off in disinterest, “So, I said why I was here. What brings you to a bar, Kennedy?” 

He looked away, trying to remember why he was even there in the first place, “Oh! Oh, yes. Sad. I was very sad,” he replied, “It’s really lonely here. I have no actual friends. No girlfriend. Haven’t had a family in years,” 

“No girlfriend? How? Look at you now! Even better than in high school!” 

Shrugging, he began tapping his fingers on the table nervously. He was used to talking to Tony, Juan, and Don about his troubles, not his high school crush! “I’ve been busy with work.”

“Are you living that police officer dream of yours?” 

“No,” Leon remembered the beer he never even finished, snatching it up before Y/N could realize what he was doing, and taking a long swig, “Was an officer for a day,” 

“A day!” she exclaimed, “What happened?”

“I was an officer in Raccoon City,” 

That was all he needed to say for it to dawn on her what had happened to him. “...Raccoon City?” she said slowly, “Oh my God! You survived that big explosion?! I thought there were no survivors!”

“Of course-” he paused. Yes, he was drunk, but he knew the rules. The things he had to lie about to keep Sherry safe. The fact he admitted he was at Raccoon City during the Incident was already a mistake on its own. “Um, the only survivor. Yeah.”

“I didn’t see it on the news or anything-”

“-Because everyone needs to think there were no survivors,”

“Oh…” she took the hint, clearing her throat awkwardly. “No survivors. I don’t want to mysteriously vanish because I knew something I shouldn’t, so, back to your loneliness. No hot women at, uh, wherever you work at now?”

“No,”

“That’s a shame,” 

He hummed softly, propping his elbow up and resting his chin on his hand, staring at her. Analysing her. Drinking in every inch of the woman he used to be oh-so in love with. “You’re so beautiful, Y/N. I always thought so,” 

“Oh, Leon!” she laughed, cheeks rosy as she playfully hit his arm, “You’re so drunk,”

“I’ve always thought you were beautiful. I don’t need alcohol in my system to think so,” he insisted, before downing the last of his beer. He then let out a childish giggle, getting up from his seat.

“Where are you-?” she didn’t even have time to question him, the dirty blonde plopping down next to her and laying his head in her lap. “What are you doing?”

“Hmmmmm,” he nuzzled his nose against her stomach, eyes fluttering shut. He had long lashes. What was with men and having the prettiest lashes imaginable? “Cuddling,”

“In a bar?”

“Mhmmmmm,” he nodded softly, “You’re my girlfriend now,” 

“Well, Leon, I don’t think it works that way,” she laughed, trying to resist the urge to just run her fingers through his hair and- she failed. Reaching out, her fingers tangled in the thick strands, combing out the blonde locks gently. “You didn’t even ask me out on a date!”

He pouted, eyes snapping open. Two globes of cerulean making contact with her. “Go out on a date with me then,” 

A sad smile formed on her lips, pushing some hair from his annoyingly handsome face, “You’re drunk, Leon,” 

“And? I still wanna go out with you,” he began poking at her cheek, “Say yes,”

“Or what?” Y/N teased gently, poking his cheek back. 

“I don’t know. I’ll die,” 

“Hm,” gripping his wrist to stop the annoying pokes to her cheek, she rested his palm against her cheek, “You’re probably not even going to remember this in the morning, but, yes, I’ll go out with you,” 

_____

Where's everyone going? :( Bingo? :(

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Black Metal and Bourbon (I)

AU MASTERLIST || PART II

PAIRING: Biker/Mechanic!Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Bartender!Reader

WORDCOUNT: 8.1k

WARNINGS: Alcohol consumption, drug usage, mentions of sex & intimacy, dark jokes/dirty jokes, rumors, gossip, past toxic relationship, a shitty Ex, protective!Simon, etc. (18+ mini-series)

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You slapped the damp rag back into the bar top, the fabric heavy with spilled alcohol and other fluids that you didn’t even want to try and think about. 

“Jesus.” Your muscles ache, neck stiff from having to try and slap a dart from the ceiling where some jackass had been too drunk to attempt and hit the target. The thing was still up there, as you weren’t about to spend your entire night fruitlessly attempting to fix someone else's blurry mistakes. 

You glare over your shoulder, seeing the unconscious form of the man in question being dragged out by his friends presently, his slurring chuckles making him sound like a drowning elephant. Intoxicated yells of goodbye attached to your name make you roll your eyes slowly as they begin being said; you push through the waist-height door to allow you behind the front counter. Your middle finger flips the patrons off before boisterous flirting hits the air.

“C’mon baby, don’t be like that—!” Is cut off by the slam of the front doors and you couldn’t be more happy that your boss hadn’t gotten the bolts tightened. 

“Don’t get paid enough…” You grumble, eyes slithering over to the tip jar and seeing the overflow of bills and coins as your fingers wrap the neck of a bottle of Vodka. 

The profit would be split with your coworker even if she’d been gone for more than half a night getting railed by her new boy toy. You can still remember the look she’d given you as she’d walked out during rush hour, her sharp smirk and smug sheen of ‘you won’t say anything, will you?’

Grumbling under your breath, you slip the Vodka back into its slot on the wall racks, while telling yourself you can’t drink on the job; trying to forget the face of the man that had been attached to hers before they’d stumbled to the back alley.  

“Graham Whitaker, you’re such a five-cent sell-out,” you shake your head, sighing heavily into the air that smells like booze and sweat. 

Graham Whitaker—your Ex in every sense. 

You decided to tell your coworker, if she ever showed back up, that the only reason she was getting dicked-down was because it was that man’s plan to try and make you jealous. As if you’d be caught with your pants down over a prick that had cheated on you more times than you could count before you threw his ass out. 

“Not my problem anymore,” your hands move to display themselves in a motion of a settled disagreement before wiping them on your black pants. 

It was late now, of course, with the dart-drunk and his friends being the last patrons that you had to serve. But you’d been in this town a long, long time. 

Sorrel the construction worker came in an hour, Miss Anna-Lee accompanying for her nightly Gin and Tonic before she talked about her late love from the seventies. From there it was three more regulars before closing activities and fighting to get up tomorrow by noon only to do it all over again. 

Over and over and over. 

You lean back on the counter and look across the brown wood and warm overhead lights, behind you, the illumination from the drink rack gives off a dead glow. 

This was your workplace since you'd been of age, and over the years that seemed to drag, here is where you’d stayed. Nothing ever changed in this town—the biggest shock was when you’d broken up with Graham; people hadn’t stopped talking about it for months.

This place was like a prison of slow death and abandoned dreams. Safe to say this was not what you had envisioned for yourself.

You scoff, pushing off the back counter and snatching your rag back up before you can spiral once more.

The stains weren’t going to buff themselves out.

Maybe it was chance that the mechanics shop across the street had shut down, too few employees and too many drug busts. Chance, or fate, whichever it was you chose to believe in that still-air Sunday, it was still a shock to you when you looked out the front window as Sorrel called goodnight through his heavy accent. 

‘SOLD’

“Sold?” Sorrel pauses with one foot out of the door, and he chuckles when he sees where you’re looking in shock, your hand holding a dirty glass. 

“Haven’t heard, then? Few newcomers snuck in under our noses—they’ll be running the place; mechanics!” 

“New?” You laugh. “Who in their right mind would come here of all places?” 

Sorrel shakes his head, grumbling as he pulls a cigarette from his pocket. “You’ll just have to meet ‘em, Doll. Sure you’ll leave a glowing impression.”

“Take that shit outside, you ass. You know I hate the smell.” A smirk graces your dead eyes. 

“Like I said. Glowing.” You glare, but the man slips out of the door quickly and his form passes by the window outside to climb into his truck parked in the street. Two honks from the horn and the older man is off, grizzly-like beard gone just like your boredness. 

New arrivals? 

You blink at the blackened shadows of the street, illuminated by the lights and their tall tree-like bases—the sway of the planted bushes in the boxes outside. Your head tilts at the abyssal building that was once in working order. 

It was a shitshow now, years of abandonment not giving it any helping hand regarding upkeep. The concrete was cracked, the garage door was hanging off of one side, and the front windows had been broken by your Ex’s buddies when they had gotten into a fight like the three-year-olds they were. 

You hum lowly. A hard-chucked set of keys, you recalled. You’d seen it from here easily enough. Hadn't lied to Sheriff Russel when he’d come knocking, and, you suppose, that was why even now the immature posse still tried to scare you by following you home at night to this day.

As if everyone didn’t know where everyone else lived already. 

But back to the current interest for the night. 

“Let’s have a little look-see, then,” you breathe, knowing Miss Anna-Lee would be a good while away like always. You could chance five minutes—it was just across the street after all. 

Shuffling outside, making sure to hold the door until it closes slowly, you step down the single step and stick your hands into your pockets. The night wasn’t hot or cold, simply there like a metaphorical cut on your palm; it wasn’t surprising the more you lived with it, but it still made your skin itch. 

Feet padding, you cross the dead street and take in the long stretch of unkempt grass, stepping onto the broken curb as your shoes crunch broken glass. Long-gone cigarette butts are scattered here and there, the occasional stray bit of metal or trash. Your eyes shift slowly from one brick that makes up the frame to another, the peeling blue color that could use touching up. 

The mural you had painted in middle school had faded a long time ago, just like the great expectations of going into an art career. The eyes of a great gray wolf are only a dark outline that you can’t help but stare at as if a cancer was growing in your brain, hidden behind the reach of green ivy. 

Ripping your eyes away, you ignore the cry of tires from across the town and the pop of an exhaust pipe—the roar of either a car chase by the repeat offender Irene Chaney, or by some stupid kid related to Irene Chaney. 

“She’s gonna wreck one of these days,” you breathe, looking down at your object of intention—the sold sign in all of its red and white glory. 

Your hand snakes out and grabs the cheap plastic, stopping its swaying with a creak and a tilt of your head. 

You just couldn’t understand it—who in their right mind would buy this place? The only thing it would be good as is rubble, at least then some rabbit could make its very dusty home here. 

Sorrel had mentioned multiple people too. 

“Must be up at the B&B then,” your voice carries over the space, the stars twinkling above you as a shadow stands at the end of the cracked driveway. Its hands are in its pockets, tall form bulky with the dark brown leather jacket around its intimidating form. You’re none the wiser, letting the sign drop as you put your hands to your hips. “They better not be fuckin’ dickheads—”

“Mind explainin’ to me why I came to get a drink and now I’m talkin’ to some Bird on my property?” 

You startle, gasp peeling out of your lips as your head swivels as if attached to a string which, in turn, tracks back to the source of a heavy Manchester accent. Grass breaks under your feet, as the gravel of the tone makes you cringe. Your eyes lock on the man who looks like he just came back from a warzone. 

The first thing you noticed was the balaclava and the skeleton detailing, of course, how could you not—the lower half was an inch below those October eyes of the deepest shade of brown you’d ever witnessed. 

Your spine straightens in cautious surprise, hiding the way your hands had clenched as if ready to swing on your Ex if he so happened to be there instead of…this person. 

“Excuse me?” You say, quickly, as if it was forced out instead of a scream. Your face pushes that stern expression back to your face as your throat clears out the hoarseness.

A covered head tilts with its small sliver of pale flesh visible to you—the strong bones of his nose bridge and hidden jawline. The bulk of large muscles and thighs spoke to hard labor, and his booted feet shifted below loose black cargo pants. 

The mask alone caused you a hint of worry in those few seconds of fast study of this phantom’s anatomy. 

He blinks at you slowly, raising the small corner of a dark brow from a respectable distance away.

“Said you’re trespassing, yeah?” Your face gains a sheen of heat, and you glance at your bar behind the stranger, at the bright burn of the lights. 

Taking a stiff breath, your lips pull into a frown as you try to hide your embarrassment.

“Well…a holler would have been just fine.” A fake glare is put on. “What’s with sneaking up on a woman in the middle of the night? Are you some creep or something?”

Those dark eyes stay locked on yours, and for a moment you don’t know if you’ve encountered a statue or not because he doesn’t speak for a moment. 

A puff of breath from his nose. 

“You the bartender, then?” You motion to your nametag above your left breast and grunt. His gaze homes in before he simply says, “Good.”

Without another word, the man turns stiffly before he steadily begins making his way back to the bar; crossing the street with a swift check of the road. You watch him saunter off, jaw slackened and your cheeks hot. The span of his shoulder blades levels out as he rolls his shoulders. 

Where did this guy even come from? The answer was simple, the bed and breakfast was only four buildings down and to the left. Guy must have come in for a late-night serenade with a bottle.

A quick glance is thrown back to the rundown property behind you before you growl and hurry after this individual who currently pushes open the faulty doors of your work. Jogging across the asphalt, you catch the thing right before it closes and slip inside with a puff of air and a shoved-down snap of a sarcastic ‘thanks’. 

Yet, the man is already pulling back one of the bar stools and easing into it when you make it behind the counter. You study him yet again. 

“You’re one of the new mechanics?” Brown-Eyes blinks at you. 

Without missing a beat, he goes, “Bourbon—Kentucky.”

“I asked a question,” you cross your arms, not even for a moment looking away as the silence of the bar sneaks in around you and this strange creature. “Least you can do for a lady is answer it when you act like a damn cat and sneak up on her.”

“You were on my property.” This is leveled out through a grunt, and after a moment of staring, you scoff. 

“I was curious about who had bought such a piece of junk. Guess I have my answer.” Your hand grabs the bottle of Kentucky Bourbon, the amber liquid inside sloshing as you turn back and put it into the wood. There’s a fraction of a dead tease that makes the man seem more human than he looks.

“Well, aren't you a ray of sunshine?”

“I prefer a solar flair.” You comment dryly and set an engraved glass next to the bottle. Something flickers past the mechanic’s eyes, a quirk to the fabric of his balaclava. 

“On The Rocks or Neat?” Your brow raises and you tilt your head. 

“That even a bloody question? Neat.” You snort, splaying your hands before you grab the bottle as he watches you blankly. 

“Sorry, it's kind of my job to ask.” Your hand shifts and you pour a reasonable amount into the glass, knowing exactly when to stop. As you shift the bottle away, you leave it on the bar top and gently push the beverage to him as his gloved fingers take it up. You repress a small smile at the matching bone gloves to go with the detailing on his balaclava.

“Bartenders always have this much attitude?” The glass is kept in front of his person, carefully held in his large grip. 

Moving back, you go to lean on the back counter. This night was quickly taking an interesting turn. “Only if they’re me.” You sigh. “You have a name, then, Brown-Eyes?” 

The individual snorts at the title, but his eyes narrow on you at the same time as if he was held hesitant at the ability for you to make him. He had an air of casual tension around him, like a dog on a thin leash that can only just manage to meet others and stay his fangs. 

Danger, you pinpoint. The man felt like danger. A riptide; surface tension.

Then why was it that you felt more and more intrigued by the second?

“Simon Riley,” he eases, staring with those numb eyes of his before he tips the glass slightly your way. With the thumb on the same hand that holds the bourbon, he hooks it under his face covering and pulls it up until he can connect the glass to his lips and take down a sip as his Adam’s apple bobs in a swallow. 

On the way back, his thumb drags the fabric back to its previous position as if nothing had happened. The image of pale skin and stubble sticks with you, and your eyes shift away quickly without you realizing it as the glass is returned to the counter. 

“Well, Simon Riley,” you mutter, “welcome to nowhere.”

The man hums, eyes looking you over in a single glance before the gaze shifts to the wall behind your head. He says nothing, and the door opens to the next three familiar customers as you move to take their order. As you slip out from behind the barrier, you grumble under your breath before you slip past Simon to the corner booth. 

“For the record, Riley, I do enjoy seein’ that old place getting taken on. Don’t run it into the ground, would you? And if you need a fresh coat of paint, for the love of all things holy, don’t go down to the Schafersons’ place, you come right to me.” 

Walking casually, you greet the three ladies from the downtown library with a smirk and an easy comment about if their husbands knew they were out so late, to which you promptly got cursed out on good faith. Sharing a few chuckles, you get them started on what they need, all the while feeling those brown orbs now following subtly from the side of their sockets, intrigued. 

Simon wasn’t sure what to make of you, and the same could be said about this town as a whole. A woman with such a future trapped behind her eyes, adventure in her blood, why were you here in a place with nothing promised for it except dying businesses and old faces? This was a place where people came to hang up the coat, not try and rip it off of its peg. 

The children born here with ambitions leave, that was the common denominator. Even Simon could see that. But you? Here you were. 

The man peels his eyes away, taking up his glass again and re-hooking his thumb to his mask. Amber liquid seeps into his mouth, pulling the scars on his lips and cheeks as he swallows it down as easily as water. The bourbon pools in his stomach, sending its honied effects to the back of his mind; it would take much more to get drunk, but that wasn’t what Simon was looking for. 

Perhaps he was just out tonight wondering why he’d left the military for a mechanic’s job and come out here—asking anything for a sign that this was the right decision even as his head echoed with the screams and the gunfire. 

And then he’d seen you standing in front of the fuckin’ worst mechanics shop he’d ever seen that he’d signed the property deed for not three hours ago. Hell, he hadn’t even looked at the place before buying it—Price was responsible for the official financial actions, and the man had made him swear that it was worth it.

But fuck, he’d just needed a way out of the city. Too loud, too unpredictable in that previous shop of theirs right by the busy street. MacTavish and Garrick had been easy to convince; they’d all served together before and had no family over here either. 

A new start thousands upon thousands of miles away. 

Your head pulls up from where you chat with the librarians, hearing the slam of the door as the draft wafts in from outside—a small breeze has picked up. 

Inside walks in your very ruffled, and very well-pleased, coworker, Celina Bell. 

She brushes down her top and black skirt, blinking around with blown pupils until her eyes lock on you. A poisonous smile meets your eyes as you raise a brow slowly—Lord, if this girl didn’t realize that fucking your Ex over some workplace squabble wasn’t something to be proud of, she was really a lost cause. 

Simon only glances over his shoulder before turning back around and tapping his fingers against his glass absentmindedly. 

“You alright?” You ask out of due diligence, sparing the ladies an apology look for them being interrupted. 

“Better than alright,” Celina chuckles, walking over with a limp in her step. “Just scored Graham Whitaker.” She fake pauses, blinking as if in realization that a child would know was taking the piss. Your face is stuck in the expression of boredom. “Wait…you two were involved for a few years, right? Oh, I’m really sorry—I had no clue.”

“Yeah,” you look her up and down and blink at the disheveledness. “Sure. Quite the score.” A pause, her lips pulling back into that smug smirk that reminds you of a weasel. Yet your next words leave her face devoid of blood. “You know he got Chlamydia from Stacy Green a week ago, right?”

A pin could be heard dropping. Brown eyes are firmly stuck to the scene, unsure what to make of it. The ladies stifle their laughter.

“...W-what?”

“Y’know,” you motion a hand to her lower body, walking past her back to the bar. “STD. Chlamydia. Results in—”

“I know what the fuck an STD is, you bitch.”

“Woah,” you whistle, “language.” Your body returns to the counter as loud stuttering is left behind you, the frantic patting of a pocket to look for a phone before enraged feet rush to the exit. “Need a refill, Riley?”

“It can wait,” Simon utters slowly. The door slams shut.

You chuckle, shrugging. “Alright, suit yourself.” 

The man takes the names you drop and files them away, slotting them into his mental database for when he needs to work with these people. Yet, there’s already a sour impression just off of comments alone. Who better to get your news from than a bartender? 

You know everyone's dirty little secrets.

You diligently serve the drinks to the librarians, placing them down carefully before Simon once more has a re-filled glass of his drink. He moves it slightly up in a cheer and gives you a stare as you wipe your hands with a clean rag.

“Seems you know everything ‘round ‘ere.” His accent is what draws you in, and you find yourself eager to hear more from him. 

“I’m easy to talk to,” you respond, shrugging and leaning on the counter a foot or two away as you both watch the other. A smirk overtakes your features. “And I am the one that gives people the drinks.”

“So, what I’m hearing,” Simon raises a brow. “Is that you get ‘em dunker than a man on his execution date.” 

You click your tongue, tilting your head in a teasing manner while maintaining a serious face. 

“Afraid you’ll spill your secrets, Riley?” 

His eyes flash at you, and his lips flicker into a smirk you can hear in his voice. 

“It’ll take more than two glasses of Bourbon to get me talking, Sunshine.” 

Your face shifts away, but the sudden fight with a smile leaves you nearly breathless. 

Who is this man?

“Why are you here,” your question meets his ears as he takes back the last of his drink, stomach filled for the night and his searching, for the moment, abated. 

The glass meets the bar top. 

He grunts. “Needed a drink.”

Your lips pull in annoyance. “You know what I mean. You’re terrible at answering questions.”

“Hm, maybe.”

“Fuck off,” you grumble, shaking your head as a low chuckle makes your insides swirl. 

A stack of bills is placed on the counter, and the man stands, grabbing the hood of his black sweatshirt and pulling it up. His gloved hands go to the pockets of his leather jacket with a roll of his wide shoulders. From under the hood, the white of the painted mask glares out from under the shadows that now shroud him. 

You both sneak a glance at the mechanic's shop—a clear view from the front window. 

“See you around, then?” Your head is tilted at him, blinking. You hum under your breath. “I’m going to keep asking you why you showed up in this town, Riley, and I won’t stop until I get an answer.”

Simon quirks a brow, eyes glinting with interest. When was the last time someone had spoken to him like this outside of his boys?

“Look forward to it,” he utters slowly. With a blink and one more dead look, he’s already out the front door and walking back down the street—disappearing like a ghost the same way he had appeared. 

Picking up his cash and counting through it, the librarians across the way snicker, and one calls out, “So, the new mechanic, huh?”

“One more peep and I’m doubling your tab.”

But…you did have to admit, he had been charming…hadn’t he? At least someone here could juggle your attitude.

—

Three days pass with no sighting of Simon Riley, but just because you didn’t see him doesn’t mean you weren’t witness to his aftermath. 

The shop across the street was practically fixed up while you were asleep. 

Where there had been overgrown grass, there was now a cut lawn getting watered by the reach of an angry sprinkler. The fast movement of the spray reaches the sidewalk that was, somehow, still there under all that trash hiding away like a criminal. Stray bricks are gone and stacked into a pile as you pause outside the bar, staring wide-eyed with your breath caught in your throat in the late morning air. 

The ivy over your mural was peeled back—that faded wolf’s gaze locking with yours, unyielding to the calls of time as its canid body stool as a silent sentinel. 

But, on the third day, as you’re going on break before the night sets in, you manage to not only see Simon again but meet two of the other men who’d moved here.

You pick up your feet and jog across the street, hopping the curb as you blink, impressed at the open garage with its fixed and oiled bay door. Inside it was still dusty—remnants of what was left behind in the corners and scattered. But it was getting there. Quickly. 

“Didn’t know Simon was goin’ to sign on such a piece of rusted shite—where’s the fuckin’ outlets?” Gritted Scottish. You stick your hands into your pockets and enter the large opening. 

“If I remember,” you speak, finding the two men standing slightly off to the side as the bulkier one with a mohawk carries a series of extension cords. Cobalt and brown eyes dart to you in shock—the second man of darker complexion sharing a glance with the other in swift confusion. “When you manage to find them, they’ll all be burst.” 

Blank stares are sent your way. 

“Kids would come by and watch ‘em spark when they were bored. No one really cared enough to stop them.” A clearing of a throat meets your ears as you study the room more. 

It was small, with only one main garage for all the repairs, but that wasn’t new to you. The motorcycles were, though. 

Five in total all parked and resting next to one another near the back wall, all in varying shades of black and gray. Your lips twitch at the sight, imagining your late-night acquaintance riding one of them—you dare say that it fit him quite well, and you weren’t that surprised at all by this.

Biker mechanics. It fits the script. 

“Who’s this then?” The Scot asks you, raising a brow as a friendly smirk pulls his mouth up. “Can’t remember bookin’ any repairs today, Ma’am, might have to wait a few more days before we get it all up and runnin’.”

“I can see. No, I work just across the street,” you spare a friendly smile. 

“So you’re the bartender? The bartender.” The second man speaks, grinning kindly as he searches through a toolbox on a small table. He hums, looking playful. “So that’s why Ghost was gone so long.” 

Ghost…? Did they mean Simon?

The skeletal accents suddenly make far more sense.

“Johnny MacTavish,” A hand is leveled out ahead of you, and you take it casually with a muttering of your own name. “Soap’s just fine as well.” 

Your brow quirks, but you only share an amused nod.

The other individual stands and makes his way over, tall and leaner as to where Soap’s more blatant strength is. 

“Kyle Garrick—Gaz. Pleasure.” 

“Just came over to introduce myself,” your hand shifts back into your pockets as you motion with your head back to the bar. “I’m on my break.” 

“Ah,” Soap’s hands move the cables he holds as he loops them into a more storable shape vertically around his elbow and palm. “Last one to meet then is Price—man’s in town gettin’ lunch for us,” he grunts under his breath. “Hopefully a damn set of zip-ties, too.”

“Zip-ties, Mate?” Gaz breathes a chuckle with a fix of the backward ball cap on his head. “C-4 would bloody help more. At least then we can have a clean starting point.” 

“I think we’re fresh out of C-4, unfortunately,” you huff a laugh, motioning around as the men smirk at you, Johnny snorting a chuckle. “You guys have done a pretty good job so far. I can’t remember when it looked this nice in here.”

“Well, we’re honored, Bonnie,” Soap tilts his head as he ties off the cord with one of the ends. “Makin’ me blush.”

“If Simon had just looked at the place before buying it, we might have been able to open sooner.” Gaz huffs, thinning his lips as he glances over the broken window and the peeling paint—the door to the main lobby that has a punched dent in it. “Couldn’t be worse.”

“Well then it can only get better,” you breathe, shrugging. 

Gaz huffs affectionately. “Not wrong there, then.”

You lean forward, tilting your head. “You’ll find I rarely am.”

“Second time you’ve snuck on,” a Manchester accent scares you once more, head snapping to the side as the light spills in from the garage opening. “This a pattern, Sunshine?”

Simon’s brows are raised as those October eyes lock with yours. Gaz and Soap share a look, smirking before the Scot peels off to find a place to store his belongings. 

“Where have you been?” Gaz asks as you glare at the masked man for once again coming up behind you. 

A bag is presented, leaning off three fingers as a glance gets thrown past you. 

“Down the street. Needed these made.” The bag is tossed and Kyle catches it easily. 

You watch as the crinkly plastic is opened and the dark fabric of four black pairs of overalls is produced, each embroidered with their respective names. 

“What’s wrong with the old ones?” Johnny pipes up, brows furrowed. 

“Looks like you got fuckin’ mugged in ‘em.” Simon slides his attention back to you as Johnny curses with a glint of amusement in his blues. 

“Aren’t open yet.” Your face peels back to a stiff annoyance. 

“I can see that, Riley.” You motion to the other men. “I was being polite.”

He grunts while walking past, muttering through a brief smirk, “Doubt that.” 

Your jaw slackens, but you only growl and hold your tongue as you glance the mechanic over. He still had his leather jacket, but a loose shirt took the place of a hoodie. 

“You ready to answer my question?” Simon locks those eyes with yours from over his shoulder before sliding up to the black form of one of the motorcycles. 

Visible to the naked eye, you take in the lack of fairings around the frame—eyeing the pure black metal of the entire engine from any angle that you might move to you’d still be able to see. It was nice. Perfect, even; damn expensive too. While the thought was enticing, you can’t imagine Simon riding it—he seemed more rugged, more…classy. 

“Negative.” You roll your eyes, but Soap speaks before you can retort. 

“Finally takin’ out the CB1000R, Ghost? ‘Bout time.” The brute throws a blank look at the Scot as Gaz utters to you a few feet away before a casual ‘no’ is leveled out through the space.

“He got it months ago,” Kyle’s eyes crinkle. “Can’t seem to take it out for a ride yet. No one knows what he’s waiting on.”

“Can’t say I blame him,” your words confide. “It’s beautiful.”

“It was a fucking fortune—no use collecting dust is what I say.” You hum, shifting back to Simon who taps the seat of the CB1000R before moving past it to an older cruiser with dents and dirt along the sides. This was more him you thought. Rugged and more dated than the first; something you use on long rides to nowhere.

“Maybe he’s just waiting for a special occasion,” you guess.

“Better get on with it.” Gaz moves away with a shrug and a huff. 

Your lips pull in a small smile, and you watch Simon pull keys from his jacket and insert them as he moves to straddle the larger body of the cruiser, easing into it slowly. Staring, you think about how far that bike could take you—what you could see with it on the open road of possibilities and whipping air. Where would you go? Anywhere. Anywhere and everywhere. 

Eyes shifting away from the motorcycle, they widen as they softly meet Simon’s own—locked for a moment in a staring contest. His lids barely pull down, studying something. You clear your throat and exhale.

Sensing your company was most likely a hindrance at this point, you turn to leave as the engine flares—you wave easily behind your back with a call of well-wishes.

“Come have a drink one time, boys, yeah? I need stories that come from strangers for once.” A ruckus of ‘affirmatives’ and ‘will do, Ma’ams’ sparks up from Johnny and Kyle as you exit to the roar of the motorcycle behind you, your feet kicking a stray rock into the grass before you make it to the curb. 

Before you can cross, a steel body blocks your path. 

“I’ll be needing a drink later tonight, then.” Simon watches from atop his seat, one booted foot to the ground to steady himself as he comes to a slow halt. His fingers curl the handles, twitching.

“Let me guess,” you tilt your head, smirking, “Bourbon?”

“A woman after my own heart,” he draws numbly, October browns as dead as mulch. As dead as dirt.

“And do you have a heart, Simon Riley?” You question, blinking at him as your mind tells you to walk away. Your brain doesn’t need a repeat of Graham—you already had enough problems on your plate right now besides some attraction to this stranger. This push and pull made your heart jerk, even when you know it shouldn’t.

You’d only just met him.

The man hums, thighs shifting on the black metal frame. He says the easiest answer he can. 

“A cold one.” 

Pushing on the ground, he takes off down the road back into the main town for whatever errand he was on this time. Your eyes follow until the figure is no more than a memory of the smell of oil and the metallic tinge of caution.

—

You hated the smell of cigarette smoke. 

Like a pregnant woman’s aversion to the scent of meat, you grew nauseous at the very hint of cheap tobacco and paper on the air—loathed the burn of it. It had to do with your Ex, of course. The man had been a habitual chain smoker, lighting up one after the other until you had to leave his house entirely to puke on the front lawn. If you thought about it hard enough, you could still taste the ash on your tongue from when he kissed you after lighting up. 

But that was only one of the reasons you’d never moved in with him despite being together for years—the cheating was the other problem. 

Girl after girl, broken promise after broken promise, you’d still held onto him as if he deserved it. Hell, all that Graham Whitaker deserved were the copious amounts of STDs he probably had after sleeping with as many women as he could to try and get back at you. You didn’t have ample reason to ban him from the bar—him or his loud-mouth friends, you should say—so the problem, like a bad rash, persisted. Cars following you after work and all. 

But, the here, the now.

Simon had, in fact, come in for that drink that night—just as he had for the last week up until the grand opening of the boys’ shop. You’d both spoken throughout these encounters and formed some sarcastic and sly-looked bond that the other locals couldn’t understand. You had even learned about his military service. 

The both of you were just…different, people said. No one else really argued with it. 

You finally met John Price before the party that you’d heard from Simon that Soap and Gaz had been eager to host for the town—‘come meet the bastards that bought that old shitty building and see how they fixed it up all by themselves. You should come and give us your money.’

It was there that a proposal was offered. 

“Simon says you told him to come to you about paint.” John was late thirties, keeping a well-trimmed beard with a mustache that was the same shade of brunette as his head of hair. Tall, as well as built, he had found you as you were closing up the bar early for the town-wide party, Celina having already slipped out. 

You were dressed in a long skirt and a nice shirt for the occasion. 

“John Price, I’d imagine,” you comment, stuffing your keys into your pocket as your purse hangs from your shoulder. A throaty grunt tells you all you need to know as you move down the step. “Yeah, I did say that. Do you need some?” You look over his shoulder to the still peeling color on the outside of the bricks as the men are dragging out folding chairs and long tables. There was the clatter of laughter and loud calls. 

John’s blue eyes shift behind him, and he raises a brow slowly. 

“Thinkin’ we’d just hire you,” a side-eye. “If you’d be interested.” 

That was a surprise. 

You begin walking across the street, the man beside you and awaiting your answer. 

“Hire me?” Your voice asks, but you aren’t against the idea. “How do you know I’ll be any good at it,” you chuckle in question. 

“Simon says he found your initials next to the mural—the wolf.” Your feet pause, stuttering for a second before you catch yourself. The blood on your face stops its circulation in shock. “Not a bad piece, then.” John grunts. “...Think you can do a skull and wings?” 

So, you sat with your sketchbook in front of the wall, a portable camping chair below your bare feet as your legs folded under you. Your slip-on sneakers rest in the green grass, kicked off with a sigh. Blinking, the chatter and mumble from the party surround you in a sheen of community and calmness. You can pinpoint every voice, every story being re-told as if new news when it goes in one ear and out the other like a breeze on the wind. 

Humming under your breath as the sun is low in the sky, you hear the silent feet still from over your shoulder. A smirk flickers your lips.

“Snooping, Riley?” 

“My building.” He grumbles, “Seein’ what you plan to do to it.”

You snort, looking over your shoulder and smiling. “If I recall, you’re the one who took up my offer and told Price about it.” 

Simon was dressed in cargos and a compression shirt pushed up to his elbows, the swell of his forearms on full display along with the scars and…tattoos. You blink at them, the swirl of black skulls and guns; barbed wire and dog tags—the dark images that fit him as his motorcycles did on his left limb. Brown eyes flicker from yours to the painted wolf.

“Good at that,” the man says, balaclava shifting. 

Your expression slowly shifts to something far softer than you can remember it ever being; inside of your chest, your heart tightens. 

“Thank you.” 

He levels you, the corners of his eyes easing out of the numb nothingness to show something akin to shielded affection. Molten sunlight on the side of his face, making the color of his irises glow amber. Simon nods to your sketchbook, clearing his throat. 

“I able to see it, then, or is it some secret?” You huff.

“Come here,” your hand motions, palm brushing away eraser shavings as your fingers get stained with graphite. The shadow comes closer, leaning over you as the scent of oil pools in your gut. You blink at the side visage, swiftly looking back down to your sketchbook as a slight wind ruffles your skirt. 

“Price was talking about a skull with wings beside it—later on he made mention of a sword through the top.” While you explain the concept, you inadvertently study the tattoos on the flesh beside you, one scarred hand coming out to lightly grab the armrest of your chair as Simon leans even closer. 

As your face begins burning, breath caught in your throat, he blinks down at the image as he looms, head tilting. 

Simon breathes, chest rising and falling as his eyes go far off. You know the symbol means something, though you also have a good guess that it’s related to this group’s time in the service. 

He hums, and you see his lips open, the rough grate of his vocal cords as he begins to form words for you. 

“It’s—”

Your name is loudly called from across the way, both Simon’s and your heads snapping back as you both realize exactly how close you two have become. The stealing of the other’s warmth like wraiths of hidden longing ceases when you wrench your attention to the man you wished would leave you alone. 

Graham raises the dark bottle of a cheap beer from the dollar store in your direction, walking over. Now, your Ex wasn’t anything spectacular, but even you had to admit it was the best you could do around here if you didn’t want to date men only five years from the grave. Graham was tall, strong, and heavy-willed like a bear. In the day hours, he worked as a farmhand down the way. 

Your body tenses, eyes going tight. Simon sees.

“Who’s this,” he asks slowly, fingers twitching. 

“Ex,” you mutter, grimacing. “He’s going to make a scene.”

Already gazes had started drifting over, conversations lapsing into mute silence as orbs shifted to three different individuals all stuck in the same storm. 

Simon grunts, standing up to his full height and crossing his arms over his chest, legs shifting below him and thighs trading weight. His moving leaves half of you kept firmly behind him and your eyes study his stance as you notice that fact. You blink, and feel something stir in your ribcage, blooming like a flower. 

“Hey, Bartender!” Graham takes a cigarette out of his pocket and lights it as his fingers fumble over the neck of the bottle. “Though I’d seen you over here missing all the action. Nothing’s changed I see.” 

Your face pulls in with disgust.

“Graham, you’re drunk. Go home.” It was true—his words were slurring, his limbs loose with drink. He smirks at you, taking a drag of his cancer stick and puffing it directly at you. Your hand snaps to your nose to try and cover the horrendous smell.

“Nah,” he breathes. “I’m here with Celina, see’s a pretty nice lookin’ broad don’t you think? Not as good of a fuck as you, but, hey, I take what I get.” His expression shifts to hidden anger and Simon takes a heavy step forward before he can finish the rest of his sentence, hands shifting to grasp his biceps harder. Those browns simmer with low ferality—a warning.

The air gets heavy.

“Pretty good little lie you spread about me gettin’ that shit from Stacy.”

“That was a lie?” You drawl lazily and watch your Ex’s eyes flash with rage. But he should know you don’t take shit from him anymore. “Oh,” your fingers tighten over your flesh and make you sound stuffy. “Maybe I heard wrong, you’re right. You don’t have Chlamydia.” You glare. “It was Gonorrhea, wasn’t it?”

“Bitch!” Graham barks, moving forward, but before anyone can realize it, Simon already has him shoved back with a stone-like push to your Ex’s chest.

“Not smart, Mate.” The former soldier utters, arms falling back to his sides. The party by this point had entirely halted in sharp gasps and bated breath. 

Graham’s beer bottle shatters as it hits the ground, the grass not able to absorb the way it slams down to dirt. Your wide eyes stay stuck on Simon’s figure, who’s now entirely hiding your view of your Ex—the wide expansive back that shows the writhe of his shoulder blades and how his spine shifts under the tight shirt. 

Your hand lowers from your face.

“What the fuck?!” Graham spits. “You made me drop my fucking drunk, man!”

“Be thankful that was all, yeah?” Simon’s dead voice is a cold chill on a winter evening. Any sane person would turn and leave immediately. “Cut your losses.”

No one breaths for a long minute, and you can see the other new mechanics inching closer from the sides. All of the locals are deep into the scene, fingers to their lips in surprise. There’s going to be talk tomorrow—the bar will be busy. 

“Graham,” you try to sway the pig-headed man once more from behind Simon. “Go home.”

“So this is what I get,” your Ex spits, head trying to peek over the larger man’s frame to look at you. Simon’s hands clench into tight fists. “I’m with you for years and this is how you treat me? I gave you everything!”

“Those are years that I never want to think about again,” you say with a stiff finality. “And it’ll be a cold day in hell before you ever see me worrying about where you are or who you fuck.” 

Knowing that the situation is over and done with, Simon takes a single step forward and leans into the man. 

“You heard ‘er,” he levels, unblinking. “Scatter.” Simon’s accent made it sound more like a threat, but maybe it was. 

Graham growls and takes a long drag from his cigarette, staring Simon down. 

“Fuck you, you piece of shit.” But all he does is turn sharply on his heel and stomp away, crossing the street to his truck before he opens and closes the door with a violent slam. From across the way, Celina gasps and calls his name, but the engine has already started and Graham is down the road with a roar from the exhaust. 

Everyone is watching you and Simon, and the staring peels back your skin until Simon grumbles and grabs your arm. 

Blinking in shock, he only gives you a moment to steady yourself and slip on your shoes before he drags you inside the garage. You huff and look up at him as you close your sketchbook–trying to not look at those tattoos again. Your finger wanted to trace them—to study the ink down to the layer of skin where it ended and became red flesh and weeping veins. How far up his left arm did they go? Did they only stay at his forearm, or up to his shoulder?

Inside he lets you go, head slightly tilted to the outside as the sounds of hushed whispering pick back up; hurried and filled with electricity. Simon grunts, blinking. 

A heated silence encompasses the two of you, and as your eyes lock, neither can speak for a moment. 

“Sorry about that,” you glance at your feet. “Should have guessed he’d show up and do something.”

“Don’t apologize,” Simon crosses his arms again, boots righting themselves. “That’s not your fault that some bastard can’t act right, yeah? Forget about it, it’s all nothing.”

“You shouldn’t have to be involved—”

“Bloody cut it out, would you?” Simon glares, brows pulling in. “I said it’s nothing.”

He was very passionate about this, it seemed.

You sigh, shaking your head before a tiny chuckle makes the mechanic blink in confusion. “Suppose I can call you my guard dog now, huh?”

“Piss off,” you laugh, covering your mouth with your hand while your eyes narrow down. Simon's own crinkle along the edges, lowering his hands to push them into his pockets. 

A second leads into another, but neither of you has any particular interest in re-joining the others, even if Soap is smugly passing looks and Price smirks into his drink. Gaz fixes his hat while he tips back a beer bottle, hiding a glint of amusement. 

Simon’s voice lowers, seeming to hover closer. 

“You alright, then?” You nod, face heating up as you stare at his shadow-tainted visage and how the face-covering obscured him from your eager eyes. 

“I’m used to his drama. I have no problem giving it back.” Simon hums, October browns glinting like Halloween lights. 

“Seems so.” He pauses, and pushes out a joking, “Not surprised, Sunshine.”

“Good, Brown-Eyes,” you lean back on your heels and smirk. “I’d be offended if you were, with all we’ve been talking to one another.” 

“Getting familiar, Bartender?”

“Of course, Mechanic. Haven’t you heard?” He tilts his head, prodding you on as his eyes soften that candle-like smidge. “I keep everyone’s secrets—and you still have to tell me yours.”

Simon chuffs a low chuckle, and the fabric of his mask pulls as he shakes his skull. “Maybe one day, yeah? Need to stick ‘round to know ‘em.”

Then perhaps this town was worth wasting away in.  

—

“Bastard won’t cause any problems, will he?”

“No, no, he’s too much of a coward to try and get back at anyone. He won’t do anything.”

TAGS:

@sheviro-blog, @ivebeentrashsince2001, @mrshesh, @berryjuicyy, @romantic-homicide, @kmi-02, @neelehksttr, @littlemisstrouble, @copperchromewriting, @coelhho-brannco, @pumpkinwitchcrusade, @fictional-men-have-my-heart, @sleepyqueerenergy, @cumikering, @everything-was-dark, @marmie-noir, @anna-banana27, @iamcautiouslyoptimistic, @irenelunarsworld, @rvjaa, @sarcanti, @aeneanc, @not-so-closeted-lesbian, @mutuallimbenclosure, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @gildedpoenies, @glitterypirateduck, @aldis-nuts, @writeforfandoms, @kohsk3nico, @peteymcskeet, @caramlizedtomatoes, @yoursweetobsession, @quesowakanda, @chthonian-spectre, @so-no-feint, @ray-rook, @extracrunchymilk, @doggydale, @frazie99, @develised, @1-800-no-users-left, @nuncubus, @aldis-nuts, @clear-your-mind-and-dream, @noonanaz, @cosmicpro, @stinkaton, @waves-against-a-cliff, @idocarealot

[lunajay33]

The Lion & Lamb Part.4

•💸🍻🪦•

Summary: You’re a shy girl that’s lived in Charming your whole life, when you’re having a fight with an abusive relationship the biker gang shows up and helps, but a certain guy with danger written all over him catches your eye

Pairing: Happy Lowman x f!reader

Warning: Typical violence, eventual smut, slow burn

Part.3

•Masterlist•

It’s been a week since Happy and I took that step, for him probably not big deal I mean he could get croweater pussy when ever he wants but for me it was special because no man’s made me feel the way he makes me feel

Not just amazing in bed but also makes me feel more confident and beautiful, not like how Michael made me feel, stupid and weak

I pull into the lot wearing a white cotton dress that came to my mid thigh, i don’t know how these parties usually go or what to wear so i stuck with something simple and cute

I walk into the clubhouse and I’m sucker punched by what I see, bikers drunk as can be doing everything under the sun with the crow eaters, one in the corner openly riding a guy, I look away praying someone will distract me from like basically orgy

I walk to the bar my face 100% as red as a tomato, seeing Chibs, Juice and Happy sipping on beers

They look at me eyes looking from head to toe

“Not the right outfit right? Is it awful?”

“Chica you look beautiful” happy days picking me up without problem and sitting me on his lap

“Really? I don’t think it really fits in”

“Nah darlin ye look like a flower Happys a lucky man” Chibs says as I lay my head on Happys shoulder

“How’d you wind up with this psycho brute when you’re so…….sweet and kind” juice asks making happy groan

“He’s not so bad, I find him charming in his own way” I run a hand over his chest as he squeezes my waist

I glance back over at the porno going on and look back down, the guys following what I looked at

“Aye not something ye see everyday, especially a lil lass like ye”

“Just not…..just makes me a bit uncomfortable is all, the only man ass I wanna see in my ol man’s” I smile tapping his cheek making him smirk as he plays with the tooth pick in his mouth

“You let her smack your ass or something Hap?” Juice laughs

“Shut your mouth boy” he grumbles

A song played over the stereo and it was my favorite, I hop off his lap and take his hand

“Dance with me?”

“No”

“Ugh fine I’ll find someone else” I turn taking juice and dragging him to the open floor where some others were dancing, I wrap my arms around his shoulders and he stiff and sweating bullets

“Y/n you’re really trying to get me killed, he’s gonna skin me alive”

“Oh stop being such a baby and help me make him jealous” I grab his hands and place them in my hips before putting mine back around his shoulders

Starting to sway my hips juice relaxed getting more into the music

“Is he looking?” I ask as juice glances behind my shoulder

“Oh he’s definitely gonna kill me he’s also checking out your ass” I perk up at that

“Really! What should I do now?”

“Girl I don’t know all I’m worried about is how happy will pummel me, you know he likes to torture” my heart clenches for a moment, I know he’s a little crazy but torture?

“Shit you didn’t know?” I shake my head dropping my hands and backing up

“I need some air” I turn quickly leaving the building to rest on the bench outside, taking some deep breaths the door opens behind me and its Happy, his eyebrows knit together and he looks angry as he sits next to me

“You’re scared of me now girl?” His voice deep but I can hear the hint of worry

“No Hap, nothing you do could make me scared of you I just want you to be open with me, I wanna know everything about you” I say brushing my hand across his

“You know I’m not one with words”

“I know but in your own time….when you’re ready I wanna know all that makes up Happy Lowman, the Tacoma Killer” I smirk as I stand taking his hand and leading him back inside to the party

Sitting back on his lap at the bar I reach over the top and get him a beer, popping the top off and handing it to him

“Shit girl, you’re driving me insane”

•

I take him back to my place that night after he’s gotta a little too tipsy, he slumps down on my bed and I take off his boots and jeans, he tries to help me take off his kutte and shirt and I tuck him in bed as he groans for me to join him

How was this man so dangerous and scary but yet I’m here as he’s at my mercy splayed out on my bed begging for me to cuddle him

I quickly clean up and change into a white silk nightie scooting in close to him resting my head on his chest and his warm arms wrap around me instantly

“You looked beautiful tonight girl” he said tiredly and I could help but smile

“And you looked very handsome”

“Handsome? Dont think anyone other than my mom has called me that” when he would talk about her it always made my heart swell he was defiantly as mommas boy at heart

“Well she’s right…..when you’re ready I’d like to meet her” I say looking up at him

“I gotta drop off some meds tomorrow, you’re coming” he says straight forward

“Okay” I sigh happily as we both fall asleep

•

I kept changing my outfit not feeling like anything I wore would be good enough for Happys mother

“Girl what’s with the mess?” He groans as he walks into the room looking at the whirlwind of clothes thrown everywhere

“I don’t know what to wear, I wanna make a good first impression Hap”

He digs through the clothes and pulls out a black pair of jeans and a plain white hoodie

“Happy I’ll look like you, I need something pretty I don’t want her thinking I’m sloppy”

“Trust me you’ll be fine just put it on lil girl” I sigh but give in, changing quickly I give my self one last look over and head out to Happys bike

We pull up to his mothers home and it’s a small house but it looks homey

I get off and hand him the helmet

“Oh god happy in nervous, shit I should’ve brought something” he stands looking down at me with a hint of amusement at my torture

“Like what?”

“I don’t know food or flowers maybe” he takes my hand and drags me into the house, not even a knock just throwing me right into it

“Ma I got your meds” he calls out the rumble in his raspy voice calming my nerves a bit

“I’m in here mijo” a sweet voice calls from the other room, he squeezed my hand and we walk in where she’s sat on a big comfy chair with a tv on across the room to some soap show

She looked sweet she’s definitely where happy got his dark eyes, he walks up to her kissing her on the check then sitting motioning me over

“You brought me a guest and it’s not one of those rowdy boys you hand with” she pokes at him

“This is Y/n, she wanted to meet you”

“Hi maam it’s nice to meet you, you’ve raised an amazing man” I say shaking her hand making happy laugh

“Well isn’t she lovely, have you finally brought home a girlfriend or are you just a friend sweetheart?” I look at happy rather hearing him answer

“She’s my girlfriend, or ol lady” he says as we sit on the couch

“He usually just calls me girl” I joke with her making her laugh

“That’s Happy, he sure is handsome though isn’t he” she adds reminding me of what happy said last night

“He is, most handsome man I’ve ever seen” she beams as she looks next to me at happy as he wraps his arm around my shoulders

“You’ve got yourself a good one mijo” he doesn’t say anything just looks at me with a small smile and pulls me close and we spend a few hours just being there with her

•

She walked us to the door even though Happy told her to stay sitting but she seemed to be as head strong as he was

“It was nice to meet you, if you ever need anything while Happy is gone I’m more than happy to help” she took my hand and squeezed with the warmest smile

“My happy is lucky to have you, now make me some grandbabies yeah?” Stunned I’m frozen there until happy takes my shoulders and pulls me back

“Okay Ma we’ve gotta go, call me if you need me” he kisses her on the cheek and she smiles so brightly even if she is sick

“I love you mijo”

“Love you too” he said quietly before we got on his bike and left seeing her wave as we went

We pull up to the teller morrow lot and I hop off like I’m on cloud nine

“Your mother is lovely, you’re so cute with her”

“Don’t go telling the others that, ruin my reputation” he says scrunching his eyebrows but when he kisses my cheek I know he only joking

We walk into the club and I see A few guys sat around then Juice comes up to us

“Hey y/n a guy came by said he was looking for you, told me to give you this” my heart clenches and my face pales, I take the box laying it on the counter and the guys surround just as intrigued

I read the note out loud

“You’re a filthy whore, you’ll have what’s coming for you” it was him, Michael had found me again, with shaky hands I open the box and it’s a dead rat, I feel I tightness in my chest, as the anxiety takes hold of my stomach, my breathing laboured I run back outside and throw up all over the ground

I feel happy run a hand over my back and up to hold my hair, the guys following behind us as I weep and panic on the ground

“Happy I can’t do this again, what if he gets me next time, he’s gonna kill me” he takes my face in his hands and stares dead at me with those intimidating eyes I so deeply love, as they take their hold on me and calm me down

“He won’t touch you”

“You can’t keep your eye on me 24/7”

“If I can’t I’ll have someone on you always until we find that bastard” he says wiping my tears

“I’m sorry Happy, I’m so sorry I’m putting you guys through this”

“Ain’t yer fault lassy” Chibs says chiming in

“You’re Haps girl now, which means you’re family, and this guy is threatening our family, he’ll be dealt with” Jax added and I could feel myself relax a notch

“Come on it’s been a long day” happy picks me up bridal style with no problem and brings me to our room in the dorms

Sitting me on the bed he changes me into one of his white shirts and makes sure to take off my bra because I hate that thing, he strips down to his boxers and crawls in next to me immediately pulling me close to his chest holding me in his arms

“It’ll be okay girl” he soothes

“I feel safe with you Happy, he’s never made me feel like that”

He doesn’t say anything just squeezes me tighter and I fall asleep in his arms

•

Happys Pov

This girl the moment I met her I knew she was mine, never was one for settling down until I saw her outside that bar, absolutely beautiful and now I have her in my arms scared out of her mind only feeling safe with me

As her old man I’m going to make her safe and I’m gonna rip that bastard, who made her feel like shit, to shreds

Shit I love her but I don’t even know how to tell her that

•

Taglist: @youngadult9016 @staley83 @caplanreblogsfics @kellynickelsgirl00 @heavy-metal-zombie @anonymouse1807 @stealfromthedevil @dumblani @mamawiggers1980

[medusapelagia]

Love at first sight

written for @corrodedcoffinfest (Prompt 6: HEARD IT IN A LOVE SONG) and @steddie-week (Day 6, Prompt: Dizzy / drunken confessions) Rating: Teen and Up Relationship: Steve/Eddie TW: none Words: 997

The music pumps in his ears and Steve might have drunk a little bit too much. Not enough to run to the bathroom but enough that he feels dizzy and happy for no reason, so he slams his glass on the bar counter and moves toward the dance floor.

The people are dancing around him like a human tide and all he wants is to go adrift. Someone grinds against his ass but he doesn’t even turn. Steve needs this, a little bit of human contact, the feeling that he’s wanted even if his parents just sent him their last check with a letter saying that from now on he’s on his own.

He should have told Robin, but she was on a date with the pretty barista she had a crush on since forever so he just crumpled the letter and threw it in his drawer, took his keys, and got to his favorite gay bar and started to drink the last money his parents gave him. No better way to spend it after all.

Someone bumps into him too hard and Steve loses his equilibrium. Trying not to fall on the ground he grabs the first thing he can, which apparently it’s a leather jacket.

Fuck.

Leather jackets mean bikers or metal heads, usually closeted ones that will get really angry.

“I’m sorry…” he slurs, “I tripped and…” Steve starts to apologize, but the man that’s looking at him is the most beautiful man he has ever seen. Long curly dark hair, deep dark eyes, and a mischievous smile painted on his face.

“You ok, sweetheart?” He tells him, holding Steve up, “Too many drinks, huh? It happens to the best of us.”

The man chuckles, making sure Steve is stable enough on his feet before turning toward his group of friends, but Steve’s hand is still holding tight on his leather jacket.

“If you could let go of me we could go back to our friends, sweetness,” the man smiles, prying Steve’s hand open.

“No.”

“No? Don’t you want to have fun with your friends?”

“No friends.” Steve tries to explain, and the man frowns.

“You here alone?”

Steve nods, but the sudden movement makes him feel dizzy again. Luckily the other man grabs his arm and stabilizes him once more.

“Sorry… my head is spinning.” Steve apologized, hiding his face behind his free hand.

“Why don’t we sit for a moment, huh?”

“Eddie, come on! This round is on you!” Someone yells next to them, and Steve notices at that moment that he’s not in the middle of the dance floor anymore, but close to the bar counter.

The man grabs his wallet from his back pocket, one hand still holding Steve’s arm tight, “Need to get back to the table. Take what you need.”

“But how can I bring all the beers back?”

“I’ll ask Jeff to help you, don’t whine!”

Steve looks at the dark-haired man and asks, “Eddie?”

“Yeah. That’s me. What’s your name, sugar?”

“Steve.”

“Nice to meet you, Steve. Why don’t you sit with me and my friends for a moment?” he proposes, dragging him toward the bar's private area, “We’re celebrating. We just signed our first contract with a musica label.” Eddie winks, “What about you? Something to celebrate?”

“My parents officially disowned me. And I’m drinking the last money they sent me.”

Eddie hums with a sad smile, “I know a thing or two about shitty parents. But maybe getting drunk in a bar alone isn’t the best choice to deal with things like that. People could take advantage of your state.”

“Are you going to take advantage of me?” Steve asks innocently, “I would let you if you wanted to.”

Eddie snorts, “Thank you for the offer but I’m the kind of guy who prefers full consent to drunk consent. Hey guys! This is Steve! He’s having a bit of a hard day so he’s staying with us until he feels a little bit better and we can send him home safely.”

“Hi Steve, I’m Jeff. Would you like a glass of water?”

“That’s a great idea. Why don’t you get one for him while helping Gareth with the beers? I gave him my wallet.”

“You gave your wallet to Gar?” another man asks, ginning, “He’s going to spend all your money. I bet twenty dollars he will come back with the most expensive bottle he can find.”

“Not my problem, Freak. You know I don’t really care about money.” Eddie shrugs, sitting next to the tall boy who keeps grinning.

“So you found another stray, Eddie?” Freak asks, scooting over to let them sit.

“I can't tell one from another. Did I find you or you find me?” Eddie replies, turning toward Steve who stares at him in confusion, “It’s a line I heard in a love song, always wanted to use it, never got the occasion. Till now.”

“Maybe wait for him to be sober before hitting on him, huh? Don’t worry. Eddie is dramatic like that, but he’s a good guy.”

“I think I love him,” Steve whispers to Freak way too loudly, and the big man chuckles.

“Look at you, Eddie! You just signed your first contract and already found yourself a groupie!”

Eddie reaches out for the glass of water that Jeff is holding and gives it to Steve, “Drink it all like a good boy.”

“I do.” Steve insists, taking Eddie’s hand and putting it over his chest, “Can’t you feel my love for you? It’s like you said. We were meant to find each other.” 

If Steve wasn’t drunk he would feel ashamed of himself, but what he said it’s true. He never believed in love at first sight, but now he would swear by it.

“Ok. Ok. Now drink your water and if tomorrow morning you’ll feel still in love with me,” Eddie says, fishing a chewed pen and writing a number on a napkin “call me.” 

Now with a second part

[ravennaortiz]

The guys reactions to accidently hurting you- SONS Version

Chibs- "You broke my toes" you stated as the nurse wheeled you out of x-ray. "All of them. Our wedding is tomorrow Filip you continued in a monotone voice. Chibs cringed as he took in what you were saying. "I'm sorry kitten. I only meant to surprise you with my dance moves....I should have taken my boots off" he apologized as he knelt next to you and kissed your hand.

Halfsack- He has apologized a half dozen times as he presses the bag of frozen peas to your left cheek. He had only wanted to show you some self defense techniques like you had asked. He had not expected you to step forward when he swung at you while he was explaining how to duck. The sound of his fist hitting your soft skin almost made him vomit as the scene replayed for him. "I took that hit well I think" you murmured as you wiped away the last remaining tears making him snort. "You did cry less than most of people I hit" he joked as he kissed your forehead.

Happy- "So sorry baby girl" murmured Happy as he fed you ice cream in bed. "Its okay. Was an accident" you replied as you offered him a sincere smile. Your tough biker had taken your injury harder than you. The ribbing from the rets of the club had not helped either. "Should have explained the kickback better. Hell should not have let you try that gun. No need. Just thought you looked hot with it in your hands" ranted Happy before you cut him off with a kiss.

Jax- The silence as you made your way slowly through the clubhouse is honestly loud. Rolling your eyes you see Jax sitting at the head of the table alone. "I am going to start therapy and anger management classes" he stated when he saw you leaning against the door frame. "Yeah, good call. I know you were going for Happy. Weak as tables fault for collapsing under all our weight" you tried to joke. "Good news nothing broken on me at least. Bad news you fucked my crow tattoo up"

Juice-What was suppose to be tipsy, sexy time turned into tipsy where is our medical supplies quickly. He is beside himself as he holds gauze to your ass cheek. Your attempts at humor were not helping the guilt train he had himself on. "Baby, I'm good its not even bleeding" you laugh as you try and turn over on his lap but he keeps you firmly face down. Sighing you stop trying to move. "Juice it was a belt buckle. Not like you stabbed me or meant to do it. Can we please get back to what we were doing?" you pleaded as he mumbled sorry again.

Kozik- Sitting by your bedside he is somber. He cant help but replay the crash over and over again. Trying to decide what he could have done different. What if he hadn't grabbed your arm? Would you have been fine or would you have sailed over the side of the cliff? Was he going to fast? Should he have expected the drunk driver to be coming at you guys around the blind curve? "I'm sorry" he murmurs again as he kisses your hand. The doctors said you will be fine but he's not sure if he will.

Opie- He is beside himself, after the loss of Donna he cant believe he has love. He cant even bring himself to get on the ambulance and his phone call to Jax has the whole club screeching to a stop in front your house. "I killed her" he sobs as Jax kneels next to him. "She asked me to buy a step stool and I was like I'm a step stool. Lifted her up and lost my grip and she hit her head. Before Jax can say anything a paramedic is hovering. "Sir, your wife is demanding you get in the ambulance. She said and I quote stop acting like a blubbering mess or she will give you a reason to act like this."

Ratboy-He cant believe how dumb he was. Has suggested you break up with him a couple times as he carries you down the mountain the two of you had been hiking. You can walk and are fine. Its bruised and scraped knees not broken bones you had told him. "I'm sorry for proposing to you" he blurts out once you guys are at the car. "I mean I love you and want you forever but like for how I did it" he adds as you glare up at him.

Tig- "Well we all learned something today. There is a reason you use certain candles for wax play. Don't go cheap or you end up in the ER" stated Tig with a chuckle as he helped you onto your bed. Careful not to brush the burns on your back and hips. A low growl and the middle finger is all you offered your old man. Tig swallowed hard and sighed. "One day we will look back on tonight and laugh" he tried again as he squeezed one of your butt cheeks playfully. "Go away" you demanded.

Return to Headcanon Masterlist

[hyprstar]

Sweet as a peach ୨ৎ‧₊˚ ⋆˙

Benny Cross x f!Reader

18+ MDI

cw: PWP (?), f!reviving oral, smoking, fingering, cum eating, not proofread

You hadn’t even thought of showing yourself up in a biker bar until Kathy insisted on you coming with her. Never once did you assume you’d be getting fucked by a random biker boy let alone falling in love with him.

╭──────────.♡..─╮

𝑰’𝒎 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒑𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒊𝒃𝒍𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒑𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒂𝒍

╰─..♡.──────────╯

•₊˚୨ৎ°⋆࿔*:･ੈ‧.'•₊˚୨ৎ°⋆࿔*:･ੈ‧.'•₊˚୨ৎ°⋆࿔*:･ੈ‧.'•₊˚୨ৎ°⋆࿔*

The night started settle over the sky and the neon lit sign of the bar that the Vandals claimed lit barely anything but under where it hung and your caught eye. Kathy looks over at you as she pulls into the parking lot, noticing your leg bouncing. She let out a scoff of laughter as she looked over at you. “Nervous?” You nodded before quietly speaking; “a lil’ bit.”

“What for? It’s just like any other bar, ya’ overthinking it.” You knew she was right, you’re overthinking what could go down in such a place, nothing good in your mind. You both got out and she handed you a cigarette and you just tucked it in the pocket of your jeans while she lit hers after offering to light it. You both walked in but you trailed behind, taking in the sudden sight of all different builds of men who were either shitface drunk or getting close to the goal.

Kathy lead you back over to where Johnny usually sat with Brucie and where she did as well with another friend as they usually drank or smoked through conversations about anything. After feeling countless hands smacking your ass, you finally sit next to Kathy and once more, continue to take in the surrounding. Quite a few were staring at you but your eyes wandered off to the pool table where it was like an erotic movie scene; the tan and toned arms of an unknown man supported his body as he lifted his head up.

You couldn’t help but just stare, it was almost natural in the way you did so. Your eyes traveling his arms, taking in the sight of his tattoos and then up to his face where you could practically feel the heat rising to your face and southbound of your body.

You lean closer to Kathy and with your eyes still fixated on him as you nudge her. “who’s that guy over at the pool table?” She almost couldn’t hear you over the noise surrounding all around but she caught what you were asking. “Him? Tha’s Benny. P’robly the youngest since Danny.” You nod, but Kathy could see the unsure expression on your features.

“Here,,” She starts, propping her elbow up on the table and point over at a black haired guy guy with sideburns and three guys next to him. “That’s Cockroach, left is Cal, and right is Corky.” Your brows contort as she says this but she turns to her left pointing once more. “That’s Johnny, he’s the leader and next to im’ is Brucie.”

“..okay” you nod slowly, just taking it all of the rapid fire names in. Kathy turns her attention back to her previous conversation with her other friend. You knew you could smoke in the bar but, you always had the habit of walking out to. So you did. You went under a dimly lit orange light on the side of the bar’s wall. You picked the cigarette out of your jeans, praying it wasn’t snapped in half.

“Son of a bitch-“ you cursed yourself as you pulled the snapped filter from your pocket, huffing as you dig around for the other half. The door to the bar opens and closes swiftly but you assumed it was some drunk fucker on his way to potentially kill himself on the road. Oh how wrong you were.

“Ya’ need a cigarette, Peach?” a low yet gravelly voice spoke, causing you to jump. You look up from the two halves of once one whole cigarette to see his face. “You— you?” You question, noticing the cigarette tucked between his vermillion lips. He nods, taking the cigarette between his long pointer and middle finger. “Is that yes?” His rough voice spoke again. But you couldn’t react. Not a head shake or sound escaping you.

He takes a step closer to you, now invading any personal space you had. His other hand taking your chin, tilting it up to meet his gaze as his thumb pulled at your chin; pulling your bottom lip down. You still couldn’t react. You were starstruck by this man and his astonishing looks. He took the cigarette and tucked it between your lips, gently letting your chin go.

“There.” He says with a sense of pride that you didn’t fight him. You pulled the cigarette from your lips to flick the ashes. “Thank you—?” You say back, returning the politeness.. if that’s how he showed it. “Here alone?” He asked. The sudden question almost made you cough on smoke but you silently composed yourself. “Nah,, I’m here with a friend.”

“Kathy?” He questioned as you nodded, exhaling the smoke, handing it back to him. He followed with the same manner as he inhaled and exhaled two times before offering it back but you declined. “Y’know her?” you gave him a look, was Kathy setting you up with this guy? No way. “Barely.” He stubs the cigarette out on the wall, letting the bud drop onto the gravels.

You had never had a conversation so awkward with another guy but here you were, nodding in silence, basically showing your submission to him even if you had just met him.

“Yer a quiet thing ain’t ya’ peach?” He observed your behavior very closely but it oddly wasn’t making you uncomfortable. Might as well not lie so you just squeak out a “yeah” with a softer tone. “You’ll be broken out of it after we’re married.” Wait. What? Marriage?

“Marriage..? I’m sorry, I don’t know you at all..?” You could feel that you weren’t recovering quickly from that whiplash. “Ain’t got to. We got time after.” God. He’s persistent. “I don’t even know your name! Why the hell would I wanna marry you!?” You protest. “Benny cross. You?”

… “y/n. And I’m not marrying you Benny.” You firmly said but you could clearly see it in his eyes how he wasn’t budging. “Mhm. I’m sure you’re not, Peach.” You give him a look, one he found adorable while in your mind it was intimidating.

It went quiet. But the look on his face was still, he clearly want backing down from his claim of marriage over you but he’ll play into the whole “no I won’t” response.

“I can change yer mind, peach.” He was persistent but that only made you curious in what he’d do to “convince” you otherwise. “I don’t believe you can Benny.” You are also persistent and you weren’t letting up so easily.

You’re quickly caught off guard by benny taking your soft hand in his and guiding you to his bike. He looks at you and without saying anything, the gaze from his eyes spoke up You wanna come with me? And you just nod on response as if he actually asked. Just like that, he slings his leg over and kicks the stand down before kickstarting the bike, beckoning his finger. Like gravity never existed you found yourself floating towards him and hesitating to sit but that inner curiosity of him “convincing you” took over, basically screaming at you to get on. And so you did.

It’s new to you but it’s like a second nature that your arms snaked his waist and held tightly onto him. As you felt the rumble of the engine between your thighs it only made you grip him tighter.

You are nervous, you’ve never been on a bike before as you’d explained to him but with his eyes giving gentle commands, you just couldn’t say no. You hadn’t even thought of leaving without a word to anyone or any eyes witnessing but that doesn’t matter at this point. You’re far too curious and far too willing to follow him like an obedient puppy.

As he pulls away from the bar and onto the road that lead to the expressway you can feel the wind comb through your hair despite the criminal amount of hairspray you used to keep it down. You’re trying everything to not rest your head on his back, that’d prove him right, that he’d get his way. But he’s so warm. A contrast from the cool night wind.

He’s like a magnet just making you gravitate closer and closer to him before your chin rests comfortably on his back as your arms remain around him. Every turn he makes he notices how you hold him tighter like he’d let you fall but in reality he’d never do anything like that. Not to you.

It was one last turn until you finally looked up and he had brought you to what seems like the middle of absolutely no where. The engine slowly dies down and then eventually off as he puts his feet to the ground to stop any movement entirely. “Ya’lright back there?” He says as he stabilizes the bike. You take a moment to observe your surroundings to realize it was far from the small town and looks like no one would be out here for miles.

“Yeah, I’m fine” you say as your arms unwrap from his waist. He slowly stands up from the seat and then slides his leg off from the other side to kick down the kickstand as his rougher hand met your much softer hand to help you off. You’re quick to steady your balance with a “thank you” out of impulse and just general habit.

Your eyes wander around the secluded area and you admittedly do feel weary but he doesn’t seem like he’d hurt you. “Where are we..?” Your eyes lock onto his but he doesn’t say anything, but instead he steps closer to you, invading any personal space you had previously as two fingers of his come up to lift your chin. “I told ya’, peach. I’ll convince you.” His words send shivers down your spine; the thought of what he’d do to you is almost exciting with the lingering thought of the dangers that could be potential.

“do y’trust me, peach?” you just met him.. how the hell is he asking this so soon..? But you nod in agreement. “I— I trust you” your voice is damn near weak but you’re genuine. Your arms wrap carefully around his neck as his plump lips meet yours, pulling you into a sudden, deep, passionate kiss. Your mouth opening up to him as his tongue doesn’t hesitate to slide in and map out every bit of your mouth.

You can’t help the little breathless and choked out whimpers and whines that escape you. This only causes him to wanna continue, to go further with you. And that’s what he’ll do.

You break the kiss to catch your breath but you see the look in his eye that clearly shows no signs of being done with you. Not now. His arms carefully warp around your waist and carefully guide you onto your back directly on the leather seat of his bike, sliding himself on the seat as well to steady the bike. Your eyes lock onto his icy blue ones, your lips parted yet no words are formed.

His calloused hands trail down to the waistline of your jeans, his ringed fingers hooking onto them. “Can I take em’ off?” his gaze is still locked onto yours, his eyes clearly hungry for more of you. “Mhm” you hum, but that’s not good enough for him. He needs you to say it. His hand gently grabs your chin, bringing you closer to his face “ah ah, I need an answer, peach. Can I take em’ off?” He repeats;

“Yes, yes, you can.” You give him a real response this time, your voice dripping with need and underlying desperation for him. “atta girl,” he praises you as he unbuttons your jeans, the zipper coming down with no effort to it at all. He skillfully tugs your jeans off of your frame, slowly sliding them down, drinking in every inch of your pale, smooth skin.

The cool breeze hitting your lower half causes little goosebumps to form all across your thighs, shivers running down your spine and blood flowing to your face from the embarrassment of being pretty much half nude in front of a man you hardly know. All thoughts in your head calm as his warm palms run over your thighs, carefully approaching your inner thighs with much caution. He can see you’re all embarrassed over him, and he is reveling in it.

His touch is warm and tender and you’re practically melting under him. “Benny-“ you say softly but he quickly cuts you off; “shh - peach. Patience.” His voice was sultry yet tender. His fingers trace your panties, feeling how damp you’re he’s making them. His fingers carefully map out what makes you squirm, what makes you whimper, anything that’ll give him a reaction. His fingers graze over your clit just to keep you on edge.

“Already so needy f’me, hm?” He’s toying with you. You enjoying the way you react as his fingers toying with your clothed slit. His pants growing uncomfortably tight just watching you react to what he’s doing to you. Tonight isn’t the night to fully claim you, though he’s already claimed you as his wife.. though you won’t wouldn’t let him.

He gets you on edge, close to making you cum yet he’s holding out. Listening to how pretty you sound when all he’s doing is barely teasing you, dragging his fingers up and down your slit. You can only sound better. He brings his finger that is covered in your slick up to his mouth and sucks it clean off, all with intense eye contact. His hands then grab your panties and gently tug them down your thighs and around your ankles, then off completely.

Despite the still setting sun casting shadows and darkness around, the slick pooling your cunt is very obvious; as if it already weren’t. He lowered himself down, eye level with your glistening cunt. His calloused hand wraps around your thigh, almost holding you up dangerously close to his face. You manage to prop yourself up to fully gaze down at him and observe what he’s doing to you.

His tongue slowly guides out as he carefully lick up your slit, your sweet slick collects on his tongue doesn’t make it easy for him to be gentle but, nonetheless, he manages. His skillful focus on your clit makes your eyes roll back in pure ecstasy, your moans are desperate and needy even when he’s giving you what you didn’t know you wanted.

A sharp gasp escapes your parted lips as two ringed fingers slide down to penetrate you, carefully pumping in and out of your heated flesh as he continues to swirl his tongue around your sensitive bud. You can feel the heat pooling in your stomach, your orgasm slowly building. “Benny — I —“ you stutter, earning a rumble of laughter against your cunt, sending vibrations through you which only enhanced your pleasure “y’taste so sweet..”.

Through desperate moans and hushed curses fill the now dusk filled sky all around. Your hands tangled in his hair, tugging and pulling at it, as if you’re trying to pull him off but he’s restless. His fingers continue at a now relentless pace, his tongue still lapping at your swollen bud. You know you can cum at any minute and he can tell from your walls clenching around his fingers. Your moans turning into choked cries and squeals.

“Benny m’ gonna cum — !” You cry out, he takes this as a cue to continue but at his relentless pace. “Go ahead, cum f’me, sweet peach” you were already holding back but now that you’ve got the green light you just let it spill.

Your head throws back as you let out what can only be described as relief and hellish ecstasy. He slows the pumping down from his fingers before they come to a grinding halt, letting you ride out the pleasure. After you’ve stopped shaking as much, he carefully removes his cum coated fingers and grabs your chin with the hand that was previously clasped around your thigh, your eyes open as he smirks, guiding his pointer finger in between your lips, making you taste yourself. As your tongue swirls his finger and you suck your own secretion off of his finger. He follows in suit by sucking his middle finger clean, crashing his lips against yours. Forcing you into a heated kiss.

As he pulls away from the kiss, observing your spent and weak body underneath him he asks,

“Did that convince you, peach?”

•₊˚୨ৎ°⋆࿔*:･ੈ‧.'•₊˚୨ৎ°⋆࿔*:･ੈ‧.'•₊˚୨ৎ°⋆࿔*:･ੈ‧.'•₊˚୨ৎ°⋆࿔*

[trinity0finite]

Right Now - Yu Jimin

Nonidol!Jimin x Biker!Reader

Desc- you hated party and admitting you're in the wrong, going to a party to save and apologise to your potential future wife? pfft..

tags: redflag simp reader bc thats the only thing i can seem to write 🥰, Jimin keeps you in check, super fine karina, my woman jimin, non!idol!au, i love bikes, i need my own fr, kinda petty and dumb reader ig, reader simps for karina and we get that, mommy rina haha..

note/ sorry if this sucks, my bipolar ass keep changing the plot

pushing past these sweaty, futureless people was one of the least thing you wanna do. but to save your potential future wife? you'd do just about anything.

but just because you two got into an argument doesn't mean she can just show up to your friend's party with another dude and not tells you about it.

you knew it was your fault, you broke a promise but for her to show up with the one guy you asked her to stay away from was too far.

now, you had a mission apologise, kiss her, make up,then kiss her again, and then make out or do something more.

suddenly a body bumped into yours, liquid spilled all over you which heightened your rage even more. and it turns out to be Choi Yeonjun.

The male turned around to face you, his eyes widened to see your glare, and hardened jaw. he rushes to use his hand to wipe the wet fabric of your leather jacket which makes you livid.

"sorry! sorry!" he continuously cries out.

Jay who was behind you could only suck in a breath and prepare for what's about to happen.

and the only thought on your mind was,

why was he using his dirty hand to touch you?

you grimaced before pushing the boy off of you with crazed amount of force, he bumped into another and they both fell to the ground, catching the other people's attention at the party and paused their dancing to check out the commotion.

"Ah you fucking-!" you gritted through your teeth and glare at the green hair boy who was shock.

as you were about to merge towards the boy, a hand on your chest stopped you. you paused, looking at the owner of the hand to see it was non other then the Yu Jimin.

"Jimin-ah.." you muttered out hopelessly, as your eyes landed on her. breath caught in your throat, even with an angry frown on her face she manages to still be the most beautiful woman you had ever laid your eyes on.

she was mad at you but she was still wearing the same matching black leather jacket you both got, you fell for her even more.

without even replying, she pulls you by your leather jacket and fast walking away from the crowd.

it was quiet, too quiet for your liking as karina stared at you with the most disappointing stare that almost made you whimper.

you were stronger and certainly not smaller than her, but something about her make you weak in the knees. maybe its the way she looks, the way she smiles, the way her eyes sparkle, the way her lips looks, the way she handles you emotionally, the way she wears your clothes — lets go back to what's happening.

"were you going to fight again?" you winced at her strong tone and look down at your feet.

"he-he spilled his drink all over me.." you muttered out trying to get out of another situation of Jimin scolding you. you came here to apologise after all.

"it a party, they're drunk, it was an accident." the fact that she wasn't shouting at you scared you even more. you shivered at the deja vu with your mom.

it was even scarier because your mom actually likes Jimin for you.

"im sorry.." you whispered quietly, still not meeting her eyes making her sigh.

"look at me." she demanded, her hands on her hips.

instead, you didn't do as she says and got on your knees, in front of her, your head tilted up. her eyes widened to say she was shock was an understatement. because, you are the biggest, pettiest spoiled brat that she had ever seen. yet here you were, on your knees infront of her.

"please forgive me." you begged your voice breaks as you held onto her hand. "please baby come back to me, 'm sorry"

"i fucked up, i'll change." you admits it, you fucked up because you promised her to not get in any other fight, and you still did anyway. "i'll change for you, i'll change for us."

somehow, Jimin's heart swell in adoration, she wasn't supposed to feel like this, but she couldn't help it. you looked like a sad, kicked puppy, begging her to come back to you.

and now she confirmed it, underneath all of that tough interior, you were just a puppy. (not pet play)

she knelt down infront of you, hands cupping your cheeks to make you meets her eyes. the way you melt into her hand make it harder for her to control herself.

"i forgive you," she whispered, and you feels like thousand of weight had been lifted off of you. "but you need to keep your promise to me, you won't ever get into any other fights ever again."

with the way you quickly nodded your head, with your eyes wide almost made Jimin cooed.

Jimin slowly bring your face closer to hers, and the way you sigh in relief when your lips meet hers, it had felt like years of not feeling her lips on yours.

"my mom was going to kill me when she heard from jay that we got into an argument.." you muttered out of nowhere, against her lips.

"you deserved it." and her mumbled against yours, hand sneaking up to your fluffy hair and tugged it back, whimpers.

[sashaisready]

This Must Be The Place: Chapter 6 - Nothing's wrong

Biker!Bucky x Femme Reader

Back at your beloved late grandmother's home to pack up her house, you have a run-in with the town's biker gang 'The Howling Commandos' and find yourself entangled with the metal armed President.

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Nothing specific, I don’t think? Bucky still being a dick. But what else is new?

I think you guys are going to find this satisfying hehehehe.

You marched back to the bar with your head held high, refusing to allow yourself to look over at Amber and Bucky and tie yourself up in knots any longer. You checked the time on your phone and placed it on the bar shelf behind you, almost closing. You’d finish up, then when you got home you’d think about if you really want to stay in this job.

“Gonna do last call, Tom, then I’ll cash out and if you could start cleaning up”.

“Got it, boss” he replied happily.

You smiled back. You absolutely weren’t his boss, but he was sweet.

You rang the bell for last call and announced it loudly to the bar. A few of the plant guys came rushing over to order their last beers. Tom handled that while you served a couple of other dawdlers.

A tall man in a baseball cap appeared suddenly, grinning as he brandished a $20 bill.

“For you,” he said softly. “For putting up with our annoying, drunk asses all night”.

You chuckled, accepting the tip as you looked at him properly. You’d seen him earlier with the other plant guys but not really paid much attention as your focus was on the obscene number of drinks his friends kept ordering.

He was…kinda cute. A scruff of almost reddish-brown hair under his cap. Big green eyes. A dusting of stubble across his chin and jaw. Not quite as big as Bucky, but broad and sturdy.

“Ah well thank-you so much...you guys kept me busy…and I got a bunch of tips, so I guess I can’t complain,” you told him cheerily as you folded the bill and put it in your pocket. “Plus, you’ve all been well behaved, despite how much you’ve knocked back”.

“Well…this bar has the most bouncers we’ve ever seen,” he joked, thumbing the air in the direction of the MC.

You laughed. “True…that does make my job a little easier”.

“I’m sure being super cute helps too,” he grinned as he leaned in. Then his face immediately crumpled. “Oh…my god. I’m sorry. So, so lame. It sounded so smooth in my head…”

You giggled shyly, charmed by his embarrassment. “No…no it was sweet. Thanks…”

You felt yourself blushing a little, heat rushing to your cheeks as you were caught off guard by this interaction. Your previous anger melting away. You felt lighter suddenly.

“I’m Peter. Peter Quill. Hey”.

You beamed back and offered your own name as you shook the hand he’d extended to you.

You both looked at one another for a moment, your smile stretching as you allowed yourself to bathe in his attention.

“It’s last call man, you orderin’?” came a surly voice from behind Peter.

Bucky suddenly had appeared at the bar, his eyes flitting between you both.

“Uh…no, I’m good for tonight, thanks. Was just tipping your very helpful bartender before I head out”.

You smiled back at him, ignoring the heat of Bucky’s gaze on you.

“Yes…thank-you. Very much appreciated, Peter,” you responded.

You both turned to look at Bucky who seems to blanch as you use Peter’s name, but he makes no effort to move. He looked…pissed off? Riled up? His fists were clenched at his sides, his mouth a thin straight line. You weren’t sure why he was suddenly hanging around here like a bad smell, especially as he had been indisposed all evening.

Wait…is Bucky…?

Peter looked back at you, then awkwardly at Bucky, then back to you again. “Could I…uh…”

Realisation hit you like a freight train.

Oh god. He is…

…He’s jealous.

Bucky is jealous.

Peter looked at Bucky once more who remained still, watching Peter carefully. Peter seemed to accept that he had an awkward audience of one and looked back at you again before clearing his throat.

“Maybe…uh…I could get your number and we could…y’know…go out some time?”

Your face lit up and you ignored the almost imperceptible sound of the puff of air Bucky huffed out of his noise.

 “Uh…sure. Great”.

You grabbed a napkin from the holder on the bar and a pen from your pocket and scribbled down your number, practically nauseous with the dual feeling of getting a date with a cute guy and Bucky bearing witness to it. You smiled at Peter as you pushed the napkin across the bar with your fingers.

He picked it up like it was a precious artefact, holding it close to his face as he inspected it.

“Wow…right amount of numbers and everything,” he joked.

You giggled back bashfully. “Yep…I promise it’s real and not the number of a pizza place or something…”

“Honestly? I’d be impressed you had the the number for the pizza place memorised even if it did mean I was rejected…”

You both laughed and he carefully folded up the napkin and put it in his pocket. At the same time, a bunch of his group had started to down the dregs of their drinks and drift towards the exit. One nudged him on the arm as he passed, mumbling something about ‘Rocket’ being designated driver. Whatever the hell that means.

“Well…better get going. I’ll uh…see ya” he smiled.

You nodded and smiled in return as he turned and headed out. Once he’d left, you kept your eyes down and picked up a washcloth, rhythmically dabbing at the sticky drink residue on the bar surface. You could feel Bucky still looming over you, but he hadn’t said anything. You sprayed some cleaning fluid and continued.

“You’re still on the clock you know,” he muttered.

“Oh...Am I not working right now?” you asked ingenuously as you kept your eyes down on your busywork. You knew your tone was pushing it, but frankly, so was he.

“You are now…but you weren’t…then”.

The emphasis on ‘then’ was loaded and it was clear what 'then' exactly he was referring to.

“Well…I’m sorry you lost those three minutes,” you answered sharply, turning to look at him. You narrowed your eyes at his stoic frown. “How about I stay an extra three minutes after my shift…and we call it even?”

He glared back at you, knowing he didn’t have a leg to stand on and so was unable to say anything back. He'd never been strict about you chatting to customers or taking short breaks before, so he couldn't suddenly start now.

“I need to speak to you anyway,” you continued calmly as you resumed your cleaning. “About this job”.

You looked back up at him and swore you saw a flash of panic in his eyes, but it was gone so fast you couldn’t be sure.

Suddenly Amber bounded up to the bar, oblivious to the strange tension between the two of you. You suppressed an eye roll and went back to your washcloth.

“Bucky…the girls have asked if there’s an after party tonight?” she asked coyly, draping herself over him like a scarf.

Your phone vibrated loudly on the bar shelf behind you, causing both you and Bucky to glance over at it. He couldn’t fully see from his vantage point, but you watched as Wanda’s name flashed up on the screen. She was texting you, not a super keen Peter on his way home.

But Bucky didn’t know that…

“Don’t worry, boss,” you told him sweetly. “I won’t pick that up until I’m off the clock”.

His nose wrinkled and for a split second he looked like a wounded puppy. If he wasn’t such an asshole you might have felt sorry for him.

“James?” Amber whined. “Party?”

You looked at him incredulously, an eyebrow cocked. His real name was James?!

He was the least Jamesy James you’d ever met.

“Nope, not tonight” he sternly replied to her, but his eyes stayed on you.

“Tell Sam you need a ride, Ambs. I gotta do some work stuff”.

And with that, he stormed off to the back office.

Amber pouted as she watched him go, then looked back at you. “What’s up with him?”

You shrugged. “Beats me”.

She sighed and flopped down onto a bar stool, then began rifling through the napkins and straws, causing a small pile of them to spill out onto the bar. Great, thanks Amber. You hadn’t just refilled those or anything.

“He talks about you, you know” she told you softly as she looked down at an errant straw, perfectly manicured fingers wrapping around it.

You nearly spluttered laughing in shock. “Me?” you asked her.

Never in a million years did you expect her to say that.

“Mmm…” she purred as she put the straw in her mouth, chewing on it thoughtfully. Ugh, she really was pretty.

“Like he says you’re good at your job and stuff. But also that you’re funny. And smart. And stuff like that”.

You tilted your head as you looked at her, the wind taken out of your sails from the sheer shock of what she was telling you.

“Huh…” you responded as you try to downplay your sudden interest. “Well…that’s nice of him, I guess”.

“Ya…” she nodded.

“Amber…?” you asked.

She looked up at you and smiled.

“Is he really called James?”

She giggled. “Ya. He’s like...James Buchanan. Buchanan is his middle name. So, they all call him Bucky. He only lets certain people call him James. Special privileges”.

“I see,” you nodded. “Like you, huh?”

She sighed, pouting sadly. “Mmm…but…I dunno how ‘special’ I really am these days”.

Before you could ask what she meant, she changed the subject suddenly.

“Saw you talking to that guy from the plant. He was cute”. She grinned at you.

You found yourself laughing at the sudden tone shift and the excited glee on her face. Maybe she wasn’t so bad.

“Yeah…he is,” you nodded. “I haven’t really been on the dating scene for a while though. Not sure if I remember how…”

You weren’t sure why you told her that…

She just giggled. “Oh…shut up. Look at you. You’re a total hottie. You’ll be great”.

You felt your cheeks flush, but before you could say anything else she stood up from the bar stool and called out across the bar.

“Saaaammy. I need a ride!”

“I got you, baby girl!” he called back.

She grinned at you as she sauntered off. “Well…good luck with cute guy”.

You watched her go, slightly shell shocked by the whole exchange.

Huh. That was…a lot.

*

Steve told you he’d lock up so after cleaning up and cashing out, you bid Tom and the MC farewell and headed out to the parking lot. You hadn’t seen Bucky…James…since his dramatic exit. But you couldn’t help but mull over what Amber had told you. What did she mean, ‘he talks about you’? What does he say exactly? How does he say it? What did she mean when she said she didn’t feel special these days? Did she know about your kiss?

And Bucky was clearly jealous of Peter, right? He wasn’t subtle about it. But he had ignored you all evening until that happened. Maybe it was just territorial bullshit rather than anything deeper.

Speaking of Peter…why were you even thinking about Bucky? You now had this sweet, funny guy on the cards who was upfront about his interest in you…unlike Bucky.

…So why couldn’t you just focus on him?

You sighed. You shouldn’t be getting involved with any man right now. It all had an expiration date anyway. You were here to sort the house and that was that. Granny would tease you for allowing yourself to get distracted, just like always.

As you approached your car, you nearly jumped out of your skin as you realised there was a dark figure leaning against the bonnet.

“Bucky! Jesus fuckin’ Christ…” you scolded as you placed a hand on your chest. “You scared the shit out of me”.

He stopped leaning, standing back up to his full height.

“We need to talk, Sugar” he said bluntly.

[misscherry-26]

Biker! Bellamy Blake x Reader ~ Drabble

Author's Note: It's finally here!!! This was requested by @steviebbboi. I hope you like this. I struggled not only to write it, but to rewrite it again on docs (since I had it on my notebook) also Octavia's not on the story because I forgot 😂😂. This is my first time writing a Drabble, I don't know if I did good so—But anyways. Enjoy it!!! ❤️

Bells a cocky one, cold, direct on saying what he thinks, and you learned that the day you met him– Who happened to be the day he joined the gang, the one your brother was part of. It also happened to be the day you knew he didn’t like you. You don’t know what you did, but he made it clear that night.

Bellamy was very quiet, despite being very straightforward–different from the other guys. They were the scary, big guys with the rest, but when it came to you, they were the goofiest ones. It was all jokes and teasing, especially since you were the sister of the head of the group.

Your brother was not happy about your interaction with him though. He made it clear that night to be careful, Bellamy was not one to mess with. You dismissed him, knowing that would be the first and last time you were gonna interact with him.

Your brother was a hard one when it came to his stuff, and Bellamy seemed very calm. He wouldn’t hold much longer.

But apparently, you were wrong.

Three months later and the man was still there, like every Friday, with a beer in hand, sitting on the bar with your brother and their friends. Observing, making small talk. And without you noticing, stealing glances at you attending the customers of the bar. You were behind the counter, passing beers, chatting with the people, serving as a waitress, making sure everyone had their food…

For Bellamy, you were a pain in the ass since the first day he met you. Not like he could do something about it. He was not going to admit it, but despite your sassy attitude, you seemed interesting. You weren’t the typically dumb, scary girl who was unaware of her brother’s doings. And even though you didn't entirely belong to the gang, you were pretty involved with the group. Always greeting the guys, chatting with them.

Sometimes he hated to admit it to himself. You were incredibly hot. The way your clothes accentuated every inch of your body—with those tiny shorts and the off-shoulder t-shirt…

One night your brother invited the gang to the house you shared with him—the typical monthly meeting or whatever. And of course you knew he would be there. So, since it also happened to be your day off, you decided to go out with your friends. But what you didn't know was that Bellamy was looking forward to seeing you—not like would admit it to anyone. But he was curious.

After everyone left, only Bellamy and your brother stayed, sitting on the garage, beer in hand.

Your brother takes a sip then glances at Bellamy. “My sister’s out at that club downtown, and you know how those places are—Drunks, fights. I should probably swing by, make sure she's okay. You coming? Extra eyes never hurt”

You stood near the bar, laughing at something one of your friends said.

Bellamy recognized you as soon as he stepped inside. The boots you were wearing—your favorite pair. But tonight they were paired with a short red dress, a simple yet striking short dress. He couldn't take his eyes off you. The way you moved, the way you tossed your hair over your shoulder.

You felt him. You knew he was here, probably with your brother— who's always worrying too much.

You turned your head, eyes landing on him.

He froze. Bellamy wanted to look away, to pretend he hadn't seen you, but didn't.

Your eyes lingered on him too long. Your lips curved enough to send a jolt through him. You knew. He didn't hate you.

His attitude was just a smokescreen for something far more dangerous.

You turn back to your friends not before casting one last glance over your shoulder, smiling wide enough to make his pulse jump.

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair as he was forced to look away.

You were going to be the death of him. And somehow he already knew.

[yo-ri-su-ki]

meow okay so HEAR ME OUT idk if you’ve ever read attack on titan college au fics but if u have ive been thinking about that but w dmc and like dante would be a frat boy, vergil would be a philosophy major you’d meet in the library, lady would the roomate and her gf trish visits sometimes and nero is the childhood best friend DYKWIM??? ok sorry this is what floats thru my mind rn 😊😊

College Can't be THIS Chaotic (it is sadly)

An: HNNNNGGGHHH I LOVE TRISH OUT THE WAY LADY MY TURN

The upper floor of the university library was sacred ground. It wasn’t labeled as such, but everyone who studied there knew. No food, no noise, no freshmen.

And no one—no one—sat in the leather armchair by the southeast window on Tuesdays and Thursdays at 4 PM. That was Vergil’s seat.

He arrived exactly on time, a black turtleneck layered under a long grey coat, two books in one hand and a black coffee in the other. Being and Time and Aesthetics of Violence this week. Light reading.

Except today… someone was already there.

It was a student, legs crossed, earbuds in, laptop open and glowing with a blinking cursor. They looked too comfortable.

Vergil stood still for a full ten seconds. Calculating. Judging. Internally debating whether murder was, philosophically, a valid course of action.

“…You’re in my seat,” he said finally.

No response. The earbuds stayed in. A spoon tapped against a half-melted iced latte.

Vergil’s jaw flexed. He considered leaving. Considered sitting somewhere else. And then, with the stiff grace of someone who’d rather be impaled than inconvenienced, he lowered himself into the seat directly across from them.

Two minutes later, the student noticed. They blinked. Vergil did not look up from his book.

“…Do you always sit here?”

“Every Tuesday. Four PM.”

They eyed him. “You’re weird.”

“Correct.”

Later that evening, Vergil’s phone buzzed violently in his coat pocket. He let it ring twice before reluctantly checking the screen.

Dante 🍕: bro get ur pretentious ass to Trish's foam party

Dante 🍕: also, don’t wear a turtleneck this time. u looked like a sweaty priest last time

Dante 🍕: also your library girlfriend stole your seat LOL

Vergil scowled. He hadn’t told Dante anything. The fact that his brother knew was—unsettling.

Down the hall in the girls’ dorm, Trish popped her head into Lady’s room, sunglasses on at 10 PM, rhinestones on everything.

“She’s coming,” she said.

Lady, in a black tank top and biker boots, didn’t look up from sharpening her eyeliner. “Who?”

“The Seat Thief. The one who survived Vergil.”

“…Oh?”

“Yeah,” Trish grinned. “I like her already.”

Meanwhile, Nero was texting in all caps.

Nero 🐐: STOP LETTING DANTE GET INVOLVED IN THINGS

Nero 🐐: FOAM PARTY?? DO YOU KNOW WHAT HAPPENED LAST TIME??

Nero 🐐: he tried to cook steak in a toaster. a TOASTER

By next Tuesday at 4 PM, the student was already waiting in Vergil’s seat.

There were two coffees on the table. One was black.

Vergil said nothing. But he sat down.

And stayed there until closing.

The dorms of Floor 3B were not technically condemned, but they were on a watchlist.

There were weekly fire drills. Questionable stains on the ceiling. A vending machine that sometimes gave you two snacks instead of one, but only if you smacked it hard enough. Some called it cursed. Dante called it “his girlfriend.”

Room 302 housed Dante Sparda, the bane of the R.A.’s existence. He’d somehow convinced the school that blasting rock music at 2 a.m. “helped his cognitive recall” and once brought a motorcycle into the building for “a psych project.” (There was no psych project.)

Room 303 was a warzone. That’s where Vergil lived.

Vergil had tried—really tried—to keep things civilized. But unfortunately, his room shared a wall with Dante’s. And Dante liked to wrestle drunk frat bros on the floor at ungodly hours. Last week, he’d slammed someone into the wall so hard Vergil’s shelf collapsed.

Tonight, however, it wasn’t wrestling. It was karaoke.

Vergil was trying to meditate, legs crossed, candle lit.

“🎶 WAKE ME UP—”

THUD.

“🎶 WAKE ME UP INSIDE—”

CRASH.

“🎶 SAVE MEEEEE—”

A second crash. Then Dante’s voice yelling, “DUDE, THAT’S NOT EVEN THE RIGHT NOTE—”

Vergil stood up. Blew out the candle. Took a deep, soul-deep breath.

He opened the door.

And there stood Lady, in a bathrobe, holding an empty mug labeled Feral But Make It Sexy. She didn’t look amused.

“They’re singing Evanescence again,” she said flatly.

“I noticed.”

From down the hall, Trish leaned out of Room 309, wearing LED sunglasses and sipping a bright red Capri Sun. “I asked for 'Bring Me to Life.' Be grateful. Last week it was Pitbull.”

Lady nodded solemnly. “It always escalates to Pitbull.”

In Room 302, Dante was standing on his desk, shirtless, holding a broken coat hanger like a mic.

Some poor, terrified engineering major stood beside him holding a tambourine.

“Welcome to the annual Floor 3B Dorm Idol,” Dante declared, slurring slightly. “Today I perform not just for you… but for the ghosts in the walls.”

Vergil walked in. “You will be silent.”

Dante turned slowly, dramatically. “Oh no… It’s the Fun Police.”

“I will set fire to your collection of leather pants.”

Trish poked her head in. “Do it. I want to see if they melt like fruit roll-ups.”

Down the hall, Nero—who did not live in this dorm but showed up way too often—was hiding in the laundry room, texting frantically.

> Nero 🐐: they’re doing karaoke again

Nero 🐐: I just saw a guy pass out inside a dryer

Nero 🐐: how is this a top 10 school

---

By 3 a.m., the floor was quiet.

Lady was back in her room, reading a true crime novel with a face mask on. Trish was asleep on the futon with her legs over a lava lamp. Dante was passed out on top of his desk, muttering lyrics in his sleep.

Vergil returned to his room, stepped over a discarded wig, and finally sat down.

Peace at last.

Until he opened his mini fridge.

Inside: nothing but a single Monster Energy, a Nerf dart, and a cold slice of pepperoni pizza… shaped like a heart.

He sighed. Deeply.

You were just trying to get your charger.

That’s all. A simple charger retrieval. No chaos. No drama. You’d left it in your dorm earlier that morning in a rush to get to class. You were running on 8% battery and 200% social burnout.

You opened the door without knocking.

Which, in hindsight, was your first mistake.

Because there, in the soft warm glow of fairy lights and the faint sound of 2000s R&B playing from Lady’s speaker, were Trish and Lady—half tangled on the couch, definitely mid-makeout, definitely not expecting an audience.

Trish had her hand in Lady’s hair. Lady had a thigh over Trish’s hip. They both looked up at the exact same time.

You froze like a Sims character. “I—I—uhhh—”

Lady’s eyes narrowed. “Charger?”

“…Yeah.”

Trish, casually like this was nothing, reached for the remote and paused the music. “It’s on your desk, babe.”

You shuffled past them without making eye contact, grabbed the charger, and backed out like a cartoon burglar leaving a diamond vault.

“Sorrysorrysorrysorrysorry—!”

You closed the door behind you, stared down the hall for a solid five seconds, and then turned around.

“…I’m not emotionally equipped for this today.”

Which is how you ended up at Nero’s dorm, sitting cross-legged on the floor next to his bed while he tried not to laugh so hard he spilled soda on his calculus homework.

“You walked in on them AGAIN?”

“I didn’t mean to!” you groaned, burying your face in your hoodie. “I just—I didn’t knock! I never knock! Because usually it’s just Lady and her knife collection in there!”

Nero snorted. “You act like they don’t own the chaos. This is like… fourth time this month.”

“You don’t understand,” you mumbled. “Lady glared at me. Mid-makeout. Like I was the problem. Like I intruded on a sacred ritual.”

“She probably saw you as a threat to the mood.”

You threw a mini marshmallow at him. “Don’t make it worse.”

He caught it in his mouth like a smug golden retriever. “Okay, okay. Want a juice pouch?”

“...Yeah.”

Nero passed you a Capri Sun from the mini fridge and then joined you on the floor, shoulder to shoulder.

“You know,” he said, “my first week here? I opened the community fridge and found three raw steaks labeled ‘Dante’s Emergency Snacks.’ Things could be worse.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better.”

“I walked in on Dante shaving his chest with an electric turkey carver.”

“…Okay that does.”

By the time your phone hit 80% and your internal social embarrassment dialed down to manageable levels, you felt almost human again.

You stood, stretched, and nodded toward the door.

“I should go back. Trish is probably building a pillow fort to taunt me.”

Nero smirked. “Want me to walk you there?”

You shook your head. “Nah. If I get caught again, I’m changing majors and transferring schools.”

As you opened the door, Nero called out after you: “Hey—next time you walk in on something, knock first. Or at least bring popcorn!”

You flipped him off over your shoulder.

When you returned to your dorm, Lady was sharpening one of her knives on the desk. Trish was doing her nails and humming.

Neither of them said a word.

But your charger had a sticky note on it.

"Try knocking next time, sugar 💋 —Trish"

You died a little inside.

Made by @yo-ri-su-ki, do not copy or translate my work! Reposts and likes appreciated!! Also if you like this post and want to see more like this, consider following!!

An: "WE LOVE YOU FRAT BOY DANTE" we all say in unison also, I'm sorry if this isn't what you asked for I've seen some of the aot college aus and I loved them😔😔 just tell me if ya want somethin new! THAT IS ALL, LOVE YOU, BYE MWAH