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pinkrelish · 1 year ago

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𝐭𝐡𝐞 "𝐲𝐞𝐬" 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐲 | 𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐫𝐚

singledad!mechanic!eddie x fem!reader

✶A deleted scene from chapter twelve where receptionist!reader acts like a bimbo in front of Eddie just to rile him up. Written very tongue-in-cheek at the beginning.✶

NSFW — sexual themes, handjob, unresolved sexual tension, 18+

↳ start the story here to catch up!

[wc: 2.1k]

Heeding your checklist of chores, you idled at the workbench against the far corner of the wall. There were a few of the usual things you organized: placing nuts and bolts in drawers, facing products with their labels out, tidying small boxes, folding the end of the paper towel roll so it didn’t unfurl itself in the turbulent path of the oscillating fan. You bent over to toss cellophane wrappers into the waste paper bin, and took your time musing if the liner should be changed despite the little amount of balled up paper weighing down the bottom. Standing, you swept off the unsanded tabletop with your hands, and worked a crusty rag over an oil streak, making a mental note to call the laundry service to swing by a day early.

As you stepped away, you knocked a pencil to the floor. Its bright yellow body was impossible to miss, along with its excruciatingly long hexagonal roll carried by your elbow to the very edge, but you managed. You knelt to your hands and knees to retrieve the writing utensil, inspecting its broken tip. The graphite was missing completely, leaving behind an empty hole where it once was. An unfortunate accident. You rotated it a few times looking for other flaws—an honorable way to spend your time.

“You doin’ this on purpose?” gruffed out an annoyed voice behind you.

No need to check, you heard the amused twist at the corner of his lips. His left canine was probably on show, too. Not in a hurry to confirm, you gripped the pencil in your fist, and leaned forward, stretching in search of the missing lead before it was stomped into dust and potentially transferred from someone’s boot sole into a wealthy client’s car. You were thinking of them, really.

The floor was a rewarding oasis in the noonday sun baking through the warehouse windows. Your flat splayed hands and knuckles worked over the grit of dirt to inch your pursuit closer to the wall, drinking in the chill of the epoxy coated concrete cooling you down better than a 50 cent clear plastic cup of Kool Aid at a kid’s misspelled lemonaide stand. Though, the unforgiving flooring bit into your joints, and indented your knees with the netting of your pantyhose. But Eddie’s study did not sway to your shoe slipping off your heel. No, he was a gentleman. And as a gentleman, he praised the wealth of curves you put on display.

He used the heels of his heavy boots to drag himself from under a Mustang, thumping up beside you, wheels on the creeper rolling along the slick floor.

The lower you dipped your chest, the higher your skirt hem tickled the back of your thighs. In total innocence—truly giving your best effort to find the missing pencil tip—you tilted your hips to unimaginable degrees, presenting your ass to the point even your lower back side-eyed your act.

Smooth backs of fingers lifted the hem more. Eddie curled his index under your skirt, and assisted it to the crease of your cheek, following the change in nylon with his rough thumbprint as it wove denser around your thighs to hold you in. Tummy Control, it was advertised as. To a man who had seldom encounters with women, this meant very little to him, as did the change in texture. Though, curiously, he rubbed at it with interest.

“You’re something else, you know that?” But his voice was too playful to shame you, hardly traipsing through his throat to chastise. “I’m out here working my ass off, and you’re struttin’ around the garage in this lil’ piece.” The little piece in question was your corporate approved pencil skirt from a long forgotten temp job when your apartment lost two roommates in a breakup, and rent was past due.

Pandering to your audience of one, you shuffled two of the tiniest inches backwards, and steadied your hand on his outstretched leg. You bent at the hips, filling his large palm with a handful of your ass, and he admired you in a brush of fingertips near the innermost valley of your thigh, licking a divine chill up your spine. Playing along, you pretended to just notice him, assuming a sinless gasp, and following it with many airheaded inflections, “Oh! Didn’t see you there, handsome. Am I distracting you?”

The standing fan swung its head in your direction, sweeping Eddie’s bangs off his forehead in a brief burst.

You’d been on hundreds of dates, and not once had you been so deeply complimented by someone’s gaze.

Eddie dwelled in the distraction. He stroked his thumb over the fat, and traced his pinky along the hypersensitive crease before the swell which had your muscles tightening in a squirm. He was so close to the middle seam of the pantyhose. Perhaps he knew this as well, but didn’t care—he was just happy to be touching you. Laid out in the neon orange creeper, sun glancing off the packed garage, casting a glow across his puffy face. Sleepy eyes, messy hair, unbearably adorable grin—the type of candid expression showing how honored he was to look at you, so forthcoming and open. A trap, if there ever was one, luring you into picturing him twisted amongst your bedding on a late morning.

As he tracked his gaze over your backside, an aching reminder moseyed its way into his consciousness. Setting into a glare, he forced his way through any pleasantness lingering in his chest to tell you plainly, “Sweetheart, you’re fucking torturing me here.” You giggled, and he broke, falling victim to the squinch at his crow’s feet.

“You think I’m not torturing myself, too?”

“Dunno.” He craned his head back to check underneath the car for where each pair of boots were moving, and you peeped through the driver’s side window to keep tabs on the seated customers in the lobby. Once you both ensured there was no danger of being caught, he turned his attention to you fully. “You’re not wearing my favorite pair, so I couldn’t tell.” In case you weren’t sure, he wrung his hand around your leg, and drummed his fingers where there should be an easily accessible hole in your tights, where he could drag his fingers through your slick truth. His sorry features were tainted with remorse when your plush thighs weren't spilling out from the nylon; however, he drew his eyebrows in mock sympathy, and traced the area. “Could make these my new favorite pair, though.”

You about melted into a puddle of dumbstruck glee at his first foray into initiating dirty talk. “Yeah?” you stressed the word like he would—big smile and all. You raised the placement of your grip on his leg up, further, still going until the inside of your thumb threatened to assist what laid fat and heavy towards his hip. Car exhaust, pungent motor oil, and fumes swam in your head. Mind dizzy, you skimmed your nails over his heavy sack pressed tight against the seam of his coveralls. An implied line was drawn along your heat by his featherlight touch. You leaned over him, real close, chest over chest, knees spread because his hand encouraged you to do so. Mouth to mouth, considering kissing the dirt from his lips. “Wanna rip ‘em, and have me on top while you’re on this thing?”

Eddie moaned, and it wasn’t shy in the loud garage. “Want it so fucking bad, baby.”

A single ding from the bell atop your desk drew your attention.

Bodies paused, you both existed in the indecision of what to do. Eddie’s forehead wrinkled from his high brows driving his attention backwards, peering under the car again. The other employees of David’s Auto Repair shuffled around a Studebaker. There was no one inside to help the customer. What a shame.

Eddie lowered his chin in long clockticks, seeking you behind his heavy lashes and heavier gaze. His nose met the side of yours in an unrefined graze, dragging his chapped lips wherever he felt your smile. He kissed you hungry. Needy, desperate to fit the magnitude of his palm at the back of your head, and dirty your mouth with noses mashed together. He wanted you messy, he wanted you catching your balance on the creeper for the same reason his held sigh became your next breath, taking a pinch of your pantyhose over your pussy and twisting it around his fist to demonstrate his annoyance, as if the dull ache of your bottom lip against his teeth wasn’t illustrative enough. The peak of your whine and his approving hum tethered the snap of your tights and the squeeze he left on your thigh. Filthy warmth blanketed the top of your hand. Stifling hot, calluses running rough over your knuckles as he cupped your palm over his hard length, and curled your fingers around himself, kicking his hips up to really stretch the limits of your grip. Together, he guided you in a few teasing pumps along the base, ego growing at the pretty sound hitched in your throat.

“Hey, Ed!” Mr. Moore’s yell burst the bubble you two surrounded yourselves in. “C’mere, ‘nd look at this.”

It wasn’t an emergency. It could wait. There were enough mechanics on duty, they could figure out what they were gawking at, or admiring, or whatever it was they were doing. That was the justification behind your shared look with Eddie, and the tension holding you two apart faded within seconds. If anything it spurred you on. You raked your fingers through his hair, mussing the roots at the crown of his head, covering the side of his body with yours, stroking his cock. The consequences didn’t matter. He increased the pressure and showed you how he liked it when you looped your thumb and index around the edge of his fat tip and pumped him faster—

Ding, ding, ding.

The kiss slowed from the distraction, but you tried to keep going, staying in the moment with Eddie’s praise burning your cheeks. He was eager, he was close. He was whispering, “Feels fucking good when you—yeah—like that,” when you added the twist of your wrist to the end of motion.

“Ed!” Mr. Moore’s voice ruined the moment. “Where’d he… And wasn’t she at her desk a second ago?”

Ding, ding ding!

Your foreheads crashed together in a defeated groan.

Eddie sagged completely limp on the creeper. “Why do you do this to me?” He dropped his arms in a big shrug, kicking his legs out flat, throbbing hard in your palm. You curbed the urge to keep going and dragged your fingers away.

“Hey, you’re the one who started this,” you sniffed, sitting back to fan your face in effort to make yourself presentable while he considered rolling under the car for the next eternity to hide his blazing red cheeks.

“I was a good worker before you came along,” he argued, pointing at you with a nail outlined in grime. He did it with such vigor his shoulders curled off the creeper, sitting up to give you a real good talkin’ to. “I never did this sorta shit with anyone before you showed up. You’re bad for me. You drive me crazy.” Not an ounce of anger dared enter his tone, not even having strength to control his smile from going lopsided, dimpling, nose scrunching in a badly contained laugh. Never would he want you to think he was mad at you, even as a joke. He was soft like that.

Eddie broke first, and that’s all you needed to kiss him against the black Mustang door, thud on the metal deadened by his nervous hand coming up to brush his curls flat.

“You drive me crazy too,” you promised against his lips. “Now, try not to cum your pants when I bend over to get this trash, and have fun explaining to the guys why you can’t stand up for the next few minutes.” You cocked your head, and smacked your tongue in a hard, “‘Kay?”

He glared at your smugness. Glared at your backside, too. Scowled at his grip formed around the swollen length rising so obvious no matter how he fixed his legs, and surrendered to the humiliation of laying back on the creeper, summoning enough dignity to roll himself to the other side where a gaggle of boots scuffed the ground in search for him, and give some excuse that he was very busy fixing something and wouldn’t be available for the foreseeable future.

originally thursday's section in chapter twelve was split into three separate scenes. i was almost finished writing the first two when i took the section in a different direction and mashed all the important elements into the scene in the breakroom which did make the cut. truthfully i had only written to eddie's line of "wanting it so badly" and they would've gotten interrupted at that point (before any touching), but since this isn't exactly canon, i went ahead and had fun and made it a little spicier.

you might also recognize some imagery, lines of prose, or descriptions i salvaged from this piece and put into the final one!

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie munson smut #mechanic!eddie #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #the yes policy

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bullet-prooflove · 1 year ago

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TheWall! Series Part One: Poker Night - Bishop Losa x Reader

Tagging: @crazy4chickennuggets @kmc1989 @oureternalbond @wakeama @fanfic-n-tabulous @dreamlandcreations @anime-weeb-4-life @keyweegirlie @danzer8705 @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @the-wandering-lunatic @alwaysachorusgirl @beardedbarba @multifandomloversworld @est1887 @mortal--soul @buddinglinguist @purrrrfect @adaydreamaway08 @stressed-chas @spookyboogyuniverse @librarian1002 @msjava1972 @thanossexual @kishie8 @saltyunicorn079 @nessamc @thebaileybugle @spaghettificationandpretzels @nu1freakshow @justreblogginfics @beccabarba @legally-a-bastard @trublu2u @irishavengersassemble @fanfic-n-tabulous

Companion Series to:

Complicated - Bishop already knows your secret.

The Wall - Bishop comes home to find you covered in blood.

It’s poker night at Vicki’s.

Bishop thinks it’s going to be quiet. A couple of drinks, a few rounds of cards while the rest of the guys blow off a little bit of steam. It’s more toned down than it used to be now that most of them have coupled up, but they’ve got a few guys up from Yuma who were looking for a specific form of entertainment and Vicki’s happy to oblige.

Bishop’s playing out the best hand of his life when they hear the gun shots. He knows the sound of a high calibre, long range weapon when he hears it. Despite your best efforts the Reed Coalition are still hunting down immigrants. He knows you’re not out there tonight. You’re meeting with the accountant to discuss the community centre’s finances. Still hearing those gun shots, it puts the shits up him. They were close, too close he thinks.

It's the flash of headlights that makes his heart sink, the sound of wheels spinning out on gravel. Creeper slides the curtain back and Bishop sees the colour drain out of his face before an expletive leaves his mouth. He’s on his feet as the door is thrown open.

It’s you that Riz is carrying, you who’s bleeding out in the other man’s arms. Drops of blood trail down your limp wrist, pattering onto the hard wood floor. Bishop knows that he’ll hear that sound in his fucking dreams.

Coco uses his arm to sweep the cards and poker chips from the table, the plastic disks scatter across the floor, rolling under chairs that are being shifted to make way for the causality. Riz is careful as he lays you down, Bishop takes in the sight of him as Gilly assists. Theres’s glass in his hair, miniscule shards glittering in the warm glow from the lights above. Streaks of crimson run down the left side of his face in rivets from slices across his forehead, cheek and neck. His shirt is soaked with blood, a mixture of both yours and his.

You’re awake, your hand is pressing Riz’s hoodie against the wound just under your clavicle. Coco covers your palm with his own, taking over the task. Bishop’s hand slips into yours, clasping it tightly, quiet reassurance that he’s there, that you aren’t alone. He feels that relief thundering through his system when you squeeze back. You hiss when Coco removes the hoodie, his features pinched as he tries to assess the wound.

“Stitches is on route, but she's an hour out.” Creeper informs them before Vicki shoves a First Aid kit into his hands and directs him to one of the bedrooms up the stairs. Her attention switches to Riz, guiding him onto one of the barstools as Hank flicks open the clasps of his own First Aid box.

“We need to take you upstairs.” Bishop tells you. “Get you some privacy so that Coco can get a better look at that wound. I’ll follow you up alright?”

You nod, a tear leaking down your cheek that he chases away the calloused pad of his thumb.

“I’m gonna be right here Mi Cielito.” He promises you. “Everything is gonna be ok.”

Love Bishop? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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#bishop losa #bishop losa x reader #bishop losa x you #obispo losa #obispo losa x reader #obispo losa x you #mayans #obispo bishop losa

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ficnation · 1 year ago

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Shadow of a Broken Heart - EZ Reyes x Reader

Summary: Losing someone you love exposes the darkest side of what your friend is capable of. A broken heart opens a path for a twisted mind.

Word count: 1,4k+

Pairing: Platonic! Ezekiel ‘EZ’ Reyes x Female! Reader; mentioned! Neron ‘Creeper’ Vargas x Reader

Warnings: SPOILERS for Mayans MC season 5, mayans mc typical warnings, pure angst

A/n: Another angsty piece for EZ because I’m never forgiving him for what he did to Neron. Enjoy the heartbreak and please reblog if you liked it!

Main Masterlist

Mayans MC Masterlist

A tense and heated silence fills the vehicle, your breathing deep and steady as you stare at the trailer ahead. Your knuckles are tight and white, your grip on the gun firm. With each breath, the weight of your grief and your need for vengeance grows, fueling your resolve.

You won’t let your loved one’s death go unpunished; EZ is going to pay the ultimate price for taking away his life. He’s going to die at the hands of his own friend, feeling betrayed just like Neron did. There was no way you’d let him go out easily after what he’s done.

As you let out a deep breath, your grip on the gun tightens even more. Your eyes are locked on your target’s home. Your mind is a vortex of emotions and thoughts—the sound of your heartbeat is deafening.

The tension is palpable as you wait, steeling yourself for the moment ahead. You are ready. You are prepared to carry out your vengeance, hoping for the sweet release of the overwhelming weight of your grief and anger that have been crushing you for the past few weeks.

You make sure the safety is on before you stick the gun beneath the waistband of your jeans. While it is still concealed, you can feel it pressed against your spine, the cold, metallic sensation of the firearm sending a chill down your spine.

Your heart is still pounding, your body tensing at every tiny sound, each muscle coiled and ready to strike. But your mind is calm and focused, determined to do what you came here for.

You jump out of the car, and your boots hit the dry earth below with a dull thud. The cool night air is a slight relief from your hot, boiling emotions. You straighten up as you leave the door open, afraid of making too much noise.

You reach the trailer, hesitating for a moment as your raised fist hovers over the plastic surface of the door. You stop your racing mind and bring your hand down, knocking gently.

The knock, even so quiet, reverberates throughout the night on the quiet street as you stand motionless, waiting to see if anyone will open the door—if your thirst for EZ’s blood will be satisfied.

You all but exhale when you hear the creaking of the floor inside. The steps get closer and closer then finally, Ezekiel Reyes inches the door open, peeking through the small gap.

You play the game and drop your shoulders with a defeated shrug. The bags under your eyes and the sadness of your frown are convincing enough for EZ to open the door fully. You force your eyes to tear up just like you did when you were a kid and your mom didn’t want to buy you ice cream. It looks real—believable.

The man you once considered a brother steps aside to let you in. He closes the plastic door as you look around the trailer. You knew beforehand Sofie had received an emergency call from her coworker asking for her assistance on the night shift. You were glad you bumped into Bottles, and he let the information slip.

You sit on the bed and put your head in your hands—elbows digging into the flesh of your thighs as you fake a sniffle. “I miss him so much, EZ. I don’t think I can go on much longer,” you mumble out, your voice breaking slightly.

You are amazed at just how good you’re at this because the dark-eyed man squats in front of you without a second thought. He places his large hands on your knees as he tries to look you in the eyes. You want to dig his eyes out and leave them hanging out of the sockets just by the nerves.

“I know it’s painful,” he says softly, and you let him guide your arms down. His skin touching yours makes you want to spit in his face.

“I’m like a fucking shadow without him. A shadow of a broken heart.” You clench your eyes shut as you let the tears spill down your cheeks, the black mascara leaving traces on your skin. “I’m nothing without him. I don’t know who I am or what I am supposed to do,” you sob, the words sound almost choked out. You’re telling the truth this time; you don’t even have to force it—the words spilling out of your mouth, the pain behind them, honest.

He hushes you, bringing your hands to his lips so he can kiss your knuckles in hopes of soothing you. You look into his eyes, searching for some glimmer of understanding, some shred of reason behind the betrayal. You’re desperate to find a tiny piece of remorse or guilt in them. But you know eyes can only say so much. His dark irises give away nothing, his gaze cold and indifferent—devoid of the warmth and patience he pretends to hold for you, lacking the Reyes’ love you had once come to know.

Your heart sinks, and you suddenly understand the truth. Your “friend” is no longer the person you once knew and trusted. He’s not the sweet prospect that always listened to your ramblings when you visited the clubhouse. He’s not the man that spent days with you just because Neron was sent on a long mission and you were drowning in worry.

You don’t know this man who kneels before you now and pretends to be your friend. He became a completely different person, someone that you can no longer trust or rely on. It is a devastating reality, and the pain of betrayal cuts even deeper into your heart—it claws at it and leaves marks that’ll never heal.

You know he doesn’t even slightly feel threatened by your presence. If he had reservations when he opened the door, they evaporated just as quick as you stepped foot into the trailer. You were just a woman, a creature smaller and weaker than a man like him. There was nothing about you that screamed danger. He allowed himself to drop his guard down—a mistake he’ll pay for.

“Don’t give up. One day you’ll wake up, and it won’t hurt anymore. You’re gonna get through it.” As your name leaves his lips after his empty promise—you almost shudder. He stands up and kisses the crown of your head—the nausea his touch draws out of you keeps growing. “Do you want to stay at the clubhouse tonight? I can keep you company. Maybe we can finish a bottle of tequila like in the good old days,” he offers.

You want to believe he’s genuine so badly. You want Neron back. You want your friend—the good version of Ezekiel Reyes—back. But deep down, you know you already made peace with the fact that it’ll never happen, that it’s time to say goodbye to both of them before they’ll drag you down with them.

You agree with a simple nod of your head and let EZ pull you to your feet and out of the trailer. He walks ahead, spinning the keys to the clubhouse in his fingers as he whistles a tune under his nose. You follow him, heart palpitating. You have to do it now, or you’ll lose your bravery.

Ezekiel looks back at you when you reach the door to the clubhouse, his eyes studying you. For a second, a fear pops into your head that maybe he’s well aware of the plan you made up in your head, and he’s just toying with you, but it disappears instantly when the man turns away and jabs the key into the keyhole.

You don’t wait. You pull the gun out of your waistband and stand behind him, raising it to his head. Your fingers pop the safety off, and you watch as EZ freezes, his shoulders tensing.

“You were like a family to me,” you mumble out, feeling the tears gathering in your eyes. You know if you give him a few more minutes, the shock will wear off, and he’ll overpower you in an instant, slapping the gun straight out of your hands. “I hope Neron doesn’t give you a second of peace down there, you lying piece of rat shit.”

Your fingers are steady as you pull the trigger. The shot reverberates through the night as the blood and brain tissue splatter on your face. The man in front of you takes his last breath as he falls face-first onto the wooden floor with a loud thud. You kick him in the ass for good measure before you turn away and jump down the steps, leaving him on the doorstep of his beloved club. When his brothers find his body the next morning, you’ll be long gone, somewhere far away from Santo Padre.

You don’t feel the sweet relief you hoped for.

#ez reyes x you #ez reyes #ezekiel ez reyes x reader #ezekiel reyes x reader #ez reyes x reader #mayans m.c.#mayansmc #mayans #mayans mc x you #mayans mc x reader #neron creeper vargas #ezekiel reyes

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drabbles-mc · 3 years ago

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Outnumbered

Creeper Vargas x F!Reader

Inspired by Day Nine of the July Prompts: beach

Warnings: language, talk of pregnancy, Creeper being the soft & fun dad that we all know he would be

Word Count: 1.8k

A/N: This takes place in my pre-established Dad!Creeper universe. I love this whole family dynamic, which I will refer to as the Wolfpack lmao. If you wanna read more about this lil Vargas Squad check out these fics: X, X

General Mayans Taglist: @garbinge @thesandbeneathmytoes @paintballkid711 @tomhardydallasstarsgirl @queenbeered @sillygoose6969 @sesamepancakes @yourwonkywriter @chibsytelford @gemini0410 @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @plentyoffandoms @georgiaaintnopeach @twistnet @themoonandthewicked @bucky-iss-bae @encounterthepast @rosieposie0624 @mylittlelonelyappreciationtoo @mijop @xladymacbethx @blessedboo @holl2712 @lakamaa12 @masterlistforimagines @kkim120 @toni9 @shadow-of-wonder @petlaufeyson @crowfootwrites @redpoodlern @punkgoddess-98 @black-repunzel99 @lexondeck @mrsstevenbuchananstark @berniesilvas @lovebishoplosamiguelgalindo (If you want to be added to the taglist just let me know!)

The kids jumped out of the van and immediately started sprinting towards the water. You laughed, calling after them to be careful and not go up past their knees until you and their father made it town to the shore. All three of them yelled some kind of acknowledgment back to you and all you could do was shake your head with a smile. They’d been waiting so long to come to the beach.

“Need me to carry something, Neron?” you asked, already knowing what his answer was going to be as you rested your hands on your stomach.

He shook his head, “Nah, mama, I got all this shit,” he leaned in, kissing your baby bump and then your lips, “You go ahead and find a spot for us.”

You chuckled, “At least let me take a chair or two. Or the towels. Something, please. You’ve only got two arms, baby.”

He pulled one towel out of one of the beach bags and handed it to you. When he saw the look on your face, he shook his head, adamant about his position, “You’re one over-exertion from having our baby on the beach.”

“Neron, c’mon, don’t be—”

“I’m good,” his smile was so sincere, it still made your whole heart feel full, “Go on. I’ll catch up.”

You smiled, not wanting to push the argument any further. You gave him one more kiss on the lips before thanking him and heading towards the shore. You could hear the laughter of your three children, and your smile grew as you watched the twins chase down their older brother, kicking water at him the entire time.

You laid out your towel to stake a claim on a small stretch of the beach. Looking back over your shoulder, you saw Creeper defying the laws of physics as he somehow managed to get all of the gear down to you in one trip. Cooler, chairs, umbrella and all, nothing got left behind. The laugh that slipped past your lips was involuntary as you watched him drop everything next to the towel you’d laid out.

Stepping over to him, you pulled him into a kiss, “You never cease to impress me.”

Lightly running his hand over your stomach, he smiled, “I should be the one saying that to you.”

Much to your surprise, he let you help him get everything set up. You laid out the towels for the kids and got the chairs set up for yourself and for him. You left him to wrestle with the umbrella—that was always his job whether you were pregnant or not. While he was doing that, you called out to your kids, waving for them to come over to you. They hesitated, not wanting to give up even one minute of being in the water, but when they saw the way you crossed your arms over your chest as you waited, they booked it right over to you.

“Sunscreen first, then you can go back to playing,” you told them as you pulled the bottle out of the bag.

They moaned and groaned, but they let you put it on their backs and faces. They took care of the rest, and you smiled at the little white streaks that were left on their arms and stomachs from their rushed jobs, too eager to get back to the water. The three of them were practically vibrating waiting for you to let them know that it was alright to go. Once you gave them a nod of approval, they were off and running again. You laughed as Brandon scooped up the bucket and shovel as he ran off, the small plastic shovel banging around with every bumpy step that he took across the sand.

“This alright?” Creeper redirected your attention to his umbrella setup.

You smiled, nodding as you saw he made sure your chair was perfectly shaded, “It’s perfect. Thank you.”

“Whatever you need.”

He peeled off his tank top and a smirk instantly found its way onto your face as you watched him toss it to the side. He turned back to face you and when he saw your expression, he immediately chuckled and shook his head. Without even realizing it you found yourself biting down lightly on your bottom lip.

“Don’t be lookin’ at me like that in public, mama,” his smile was contagious.

“Sorry,” you stepped in closer to him, running your hands over the ink that covered his torso, “I can’t help it.”

Before either of you had a chance to say anything else, a shriek came from the edge of the water. Both of you turned to see your son tossing entire buckets of water at his sisters. You both laughed and Creeper gave you a kiss before taking off towards them to try and calm the situation before it got too out of hand.

You slowly and carefully lowered yourself down into your beach chair, keeping your eyes on your family the entire time. As you felt the restless kicking inside your belly, it sank in that the next time all of you came to the beach together, your family was going to be just a little bit larger. You shrugged off your coverup, and even though it was a thin piece of fabric it felt great to go without it, instantly running your hands over the exposed skin of your stomach.

While you were getting out your book and a drink for yourself, Creeper came trudging back up to your designated space. You flicked your eyes up to him, smiling as you saw the water running down the smooth skin of his head.

“I see you got caught in the crossfire,” you said with a laugh.

“Your girls are brutal,” he shook his head with a smile.

“Oh,” you rested your book on your stomach and gave him your full attention, “so now they’re my girls?”

He laughed, leaning down to kiss your forehead, “They’re your beautiful little savages, mama.”

“Mhm,” you chuckled as he opened a bottle of water and took a long drink from it, “I’ll remember that.”

You looked back down to the water and saw the three of them at least getting along now, no doubt plotting something together against their father for when he returned to the danger zone. It was impossible not to smile as the three of them huddled together. Looking over at your husband, you found him with his eyes fixed on you, a soft smile on his face. He twisted the cap back onto his water bottle before tossing it onto his chair.

As he went to take off again, you reached out and grabbed his hand before he could get too far. He whipped back around to you, concern on his face, “Yea, baby?”

You chuckled, motioning for him to come closer, “You gotta put on some sunscreen.”

He shook his head, “I’ll be fine.”

Narrowing your eyes at him, you gave a slight shake of your head, “Remember what happened last time you said that? You got all blistered up. C’mon. If I make the kids do it, I gotta make you do it too.”

He knew better than to argue with you, so he let you put a generous amount in his hands while you got up to rub it into his back and on the top of his head. You chuckled when he flinched at the coldness of the lotion. As you took a couple extra moments to really work it into his shoulders, you felt his body relax under your touch, and it brought a smile to your face. He reached back, placing his hand over yours before turning to face you.

“I love you.”

You smiled, nodding, “I love you too.”

“You gotta promise you won’t get mad at me, alright?”

Your brows furrowed in confusion, “Mad at you for what?”

The edges of his lips curled into a smirk as he took the leftover lotion on his hands and smeared it in a line down your face with a laugh, leaving a bright white streak behind as he took off running, shouting back to you how beautiful you were and how much he loved you.

You laughed, rolling your eyes as you rested your hands on your stomach, “You’re lucky I’m pregnant and can’t run after you, Neron!” you paused, and after a few seconds you thought better of it, “Alex! Ava! Brandon!” you called out to each of your kids, smiling when they all snapped to attention and looked at you, “See if you guys can dunk your father before we go home today!”

They all let out screams of joy and excitement, smiles taking over their faces as they ran towards their dad. Creeper looked at you, the weight of defeat making his shoulders slump slightly as he accepted his fate. You laughed as you slowly lowered yourself back into your beach chair. Within seconds the twins had attached themselves to Creeper’s legs and Brandon was attempting to climb up onto his father’s back. All four of them were laughing and you were honestly impressed by your husband’s ability to stay upright.

Your son was fully attached to Creeper’s back, legs securely wrapped around the man’s torso and arms looped around his neck. You chuckled as Creeper crouched down, trying with all his might to pry his daughters off of his legs, tucking them under his arms as he made the short walk into the water and dunking them instead of the other way around. Their laughter could be heard all down the coast and it was impossible not to laugh from where you were sitting.

“Your turn, B-Dawg,” he laughed as he reached back and lifted his son off of him, lofting him into the water, the young boy cackling the entire time.

Once the three of them had been sufficiently tossed around, they settled into a calmer activity of building a sandcastle just out of reach of the high tide waves. When they seemed fairly calm, Creeper made his way back up to you. You’d managed to get through some of your book as you watched them, and he smiled as he quickly wiped off some of the water and sand, finding his seat next to you.

“Got your workout for the day?” you looked over at him with a smile.

He chuckled, nodding, “Yea. Can’t believe you sicced my own kids on me, mama. That’s cold.”

“Fair is fair when I can’t chase after you,” you laughed, “Just wait until next year when you’re even more outnumbered.”

His laughter quieted as he glanced down at your stomach, and he gave a satisfied nod, “I can’t wait.”

“You’re gonna run out of arms,” you said with a smile as you reached and entwined your fingers with his.

He laughed, “That’s what I’ve got you for. If we stick together we might almost be able to hold our own.”

“That’s a big maybe.”

He chuckled, shaking his head, “Nah,” he lifted your hand and pressed a kiss to your knuckles, “We’ve got this down. We’ll be alright.”

#mayans mc #mayansmc #mayans fx #mayans mc imagine #creeper vargas #creeper vargas x reader #creeper vargas x you #creeper vargas fanfic #neron vargas #neron creeper vargas #july prompts #my writing #fanfiction #drabblesmc

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cyborg-franky · 3 years ago

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6 - 3 - 30 with sanji pls.......

Wife voice: Write me more Saaaaaanjiiii

Random number generator: I gotchu Sanji x Reader AU: Modern, coffee shop AU SFW Word count: 934

The café you worked at seemed busier then normal for a weekday, rushing here and there, calling out drinks, making frapes and spending hours being deafened by the whirring of drinks mixing behind you. The monotony of one after another of customers in a constant flow, you didn’t even get thirty seconds between interactions to catch a breath.

“Break time” Your supervisor informed you and you tried your best not to let your relief wash over you so visibly, but you didn’t waste time in pulling your apron off and setting down the broom handle “Oh, just take out the trash on your way?” the man added and you grimaced, hiding it behind your polite I’m at work smile.

Lugging the large plastic bag behind you managed to open the back door enough to squeeze you and the trash out. You groaned and shut the heavy door behind you, frowning at the weight of the overstuffed trash bag as you tried to get momentum to swing it into the large dumpster that lined the ally wall.

"Need any help with that?" You spun around at the unfamiliar voice.

A tall blond man with bangs over half his face leaned on the wall, taking out a pack of smokes from his fancy black dress pants. You blinked a few times and noticed a name badge on his pink shirt Sanji. He pulled out a cigarette and lit it, taking a drag “Don’t worry I’m not some creeper who hangs out in the ally, I work next door” You felt better once this Sanji explained himself.

“Oh, the new restaurant? It always smells so good there” You couldn’t help but sigh, all your lunch breaks consisted of frowning at your packed lunch and wishing it were something they cooked, the smells always invading your nose and making you hungry.

“Help yeah?” You nodded and moved from the trash, he picked it up effortlessly and heaved it into the dumpster, cig perched in his mouth as he did so. Sanji looked so streamline that you hadn’t expected that sort of strength.

“Thank you so much, my back was already killing, come by later for a coffee and I’ll make it a large for free” You offered the man who shook his head “I try not to have too many vices” Sanji chuckled letting out a cloud of smoke, tapping the ash onto the ground below. “Smoking and coffee is pretty common” You mused as you sat on the stack of crates, happy to get off your feet.

Sanji grinned at you stubbing the end out, flicking it into the dumpster “Who said smoking was my only vice?” You couldn’t help laughing at the grin on the blondes face at his cheeky comment.

After that day you bumped into him more on your lunch breaks, soon you’d both arranged your lunch times to coincide with one another. Sanji stole two slightly broken chairs from his workplace for you both to sit on. You sat down and looked around for him, he was late, you couldn’t help feeling disappointed, your forty minutes with the cook had become the highlight of your day.

“Sorry I’m late but I bring gifts” Sanji had kicked open the door, despite hearing one of the older chefs tell him off for it. In his hand were two plates of noodles and your mouth fell open, the smell so enticing. “I thought I’d make us lunch today” He handed you a plate, pulling out a fork from the pocket of his shirt which you took with a thanks.

“Did you?”

“Yeah, there was some stuff that went out tonight and I asked the shitty geezer if I could make something with it for lunch” He sat across from you, tucking into his own plate, watching you for your reaction “And he said yes I presume?”

“Nah but I’m sure he’ll dock me for it, it’s fine.”

You laughed and rolled your eyes, Sanji worked for his father so you guessed he wouldn’t get in that much trouble for it. “So I see a lot of your other staff come in to grab coffee.. It’s pretty great seeing huge burly men come in and ask for chai latte’s and pink strawberry frapes, when are you going to come get something?” You started to eat your noodles and made a sound “Oh wow this is the best food I have tasted in literally years Sanji, Oh God” You couldn’t wait to put another fork load into your mouth.

“I’m glad you like it, I just wanted to bring you some real food” He always teased you about your overly cute but barely filling lunches. You rolled your eyes at him, picking eating over responding to him. “And I might be tempted to grab something one day.”

You sighed looking at the cup in your hand, the day dragging on, the order written on the cup, you winced, strong black coffee, who the heck would order something so boring? You turned the cup to judge the person Sanji. Your head shot up and looked around, your eyes met with the tall blond.

“I thought you didn’t want another vice?” You teased him, setting the cup under the machine, letting it churn and do its work. “I had a think about it” He started, leaning on the counter while you worked on his drink. “I think I have time for two more vices.”

“Two?” He nodded his head and as you handed him his drink, he passed you a slip of paper with his number on “O-oh”

#sfw #sanji x reader #sanji vinsmoke x reader #one piece x reader #one piece reader insert #gender neutral reader

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honestsycrets · 4 years ago

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Evergreen [ Ivar x Reader ]

❛ pairing | ivar x reader

❛ type | drabble

❛ summary | door six for @ivarsrideordie meets a request for setting up a christmas tree with Ivar.

❛ tags | drabble, mention of fighting, modern au, short and sweet.

All you wanted for the holiday season was a fresh tree. The one you had was big and tall and maybe close to touching the roof; sure. It should be perfect, in theory, but it was fake. Its plasticy limbs didn’t immerse your home in that homely scent of the season that Ivar insisted you light a quote on quote dumb candle for. Instead, all it did was remind you of how you probably should have taken your ornaments and Jul log outside. There had been many a fight about it.

There’s a loud booming knock at the front door. At this time in the afternoon, he should be at work. Perhaps he forgot something at home, you thought, bundling up in a warm burgundy blanket and slipping down from your comfortable couch toward the front door. Outside, your boyfriend howled your name like another dog. Much like your dogs, baying at the front door that daddie was home yet again.

With a pop of the lock, you swung the door open.

“Daddie’s home, Kohlie,” you said, bundled uptight. You quickly realized that no-- it’s not just Ivar who wheels his sad ass in after the latest fight, hauling the base of a clumsily chopped tree. There’s Hvitserk too. Across your man’s lap, you recognize the axe that his father left him after his death.

“You didn’t!” you giggled as you inspected the other end. The happy go lucky puppy, Hvitserk, bobbed in after Kohlie and Ivar, holding the opposing end of a tree that weren’t exactly the same size as your perfect fake Christmas tree. It had imperfections: like people. That was why you loved them. Different in their own ways! Unique; not like the tree that Ivar had brought home on a trip home after the supermarket. “It’s a real tree!”

“I did.” Ivar heaved the wheel of his chair, inwardly smiling and outwardly displaying his glee at your reaction with the twinge of a smile on his lip.

“Hate to break this up but— It’s not exactly the lightest thing you’ve bought.” Hvitserk grumbled as you closed the door behind him.

“Shhh, let me enjoy things,” you bit back. You alleviated the weight off of Ivar to waddle with Hvitserk, bossing him toward your favorite area: the bedroom. Ivar hates the lights. Moreso the glittery, obnoxious star on top. But he would put up with it; if he had to.

Oh and he had to.

“By the creeper window?” Ivar asks, motioning to the large bay windows you loved. Ivar was less fond of it: he installed the blinds claiming some creepy old man would see you changing despite the fact that he’d been sure to move thirty-- no, forty minutes out of the city.

“Yes, Ivar, by the creeper windows.“

“Just pick a place,” complains Hvitserk as he waddles with you. Once it’s leaned against the wall, he hops back down to Ubbe’s truck for the base. It’s not easy to get it up; but you two manage with Ivar’s impeccably picky guidance. Hvitserk excuses himself out, grumbling about his back-- just to make Ivar feel a little guilty.

It leaves Ivar scooting around the room to the plastic bin you had out for Christmas. Your hands land on the low back of his wheelchair, whirling him around. He releases his hold on his wheels and allows you to climb over him, cupping his stubbly cheeks and kissing his dry lips once, twice, three times-- he could get used to that.

“It’s exactly what I wanted. Just think about it! We can decorate it and have Christmas in here-- just me and you. Red and-- white? You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Exactly what you wanted was a slightly patchy, tilty green tree. It smelled of Christmas and whatever other insect was probably crawling around on it. He’d been careful chopping this one down with his brother; and still, he knew he had work to do on it. Forget the lights, the ornaments: it would be a pain to crawl his ass under to water every single fucking day. Not to mention fighting with the temperature of the room. It was going to be a pain in the ass to deal with this thing.

“Are you listening, Ivar?”

But if you looked at him like that, he thought, it might just be worth it. Your lips brushed over his, teasing a kiss with gentle motions. When they finally clasp over his, he smiles through the kiss.

“If that’s what you want, baby.”

@tephi101 @alicedopey @supernaturalvikingwhore @tootie-fruity @titty-teetee @queen-see-ya-in-valhalla @ethereallysimple @deathbyarabbit @deathbyarabbit @readsalot73 @natalie-rdr @lol-haha-joke @lisinfleur @hissouthernprincess @marvelousse @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol @vikingsmania @wish-i-was-a-mermaid @lif3snotouttogetyou @gruffle1 @cris101071 @gold-dragon-slayer @babypink224221 @wonderwoman292 @naaladareia @beyond-the-ashes @generic-fangirl @chinduda @laketaj24, @peaceisadirtyword, @ly–canthrope @cris101071 @daughterofthenight117 @unassumingviking @ladyofsoa, @inforapound @winchesterwife27 @feyrearcheron44@readsalot73 @squirrelacorngliterfarts @gold-dragon-slayer @medievalfangirl @sallydelys @bluearchersstuff @affectionrabbitt @whatamood13 @notyouraveragegirl17 @igetcarriedawaywithyou @unacceptabletatertots @ivarandersen @stra-vage @tgrrose @cookies186 @learninglemni-blog @theleeshanotlouise @soiproclaim @msmorganforever @destynelseclipsa @soleil-dor @strangunddurm

#ivar x reader #ivar/reader #ivar the boneless x reader #ivar the boneless/reader #vikings imagines #vikings imagine

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archetypal-archivist · 4 years ago

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Sky’s Limit- Hermitcraft- Worldbuilding

Heyo! This was the product of a plot bunny I got while watching the newest animated music video by Porter Robinson, and it features pretty much all the hermits. Long into the distant future, there is a city of gleaming white and technological marvels. Electricity is entirely clean, its people are always happy, and life- as it has always done- goes on. However, for all it seems like a utopia, there is one facet that may seem out of place. The city is truly, utterly silent. Sure, there are voices and happy chatter, laughter on street corners and children running in the streets. But there is no hum, no electric buzz that most crafters of the past would have been familiar with. There is no redstone. For indeed, the red dust is entirely illegal and those who work with it are relegated to the city’s dark underbelly. And not all of them are happy to be there. It is in this city, the city of Sky’s Limit, that I have dropped our hermits. Time will tell what happens next.

----

A story in which the world has been… purified. Think skyblock, portrayed as a world of natural wonder, soft angles and high rises that scrape the clouds above, all in shimmering shades of pearlescent white. The only noise is the rushing of the wind through the grass far, far below and the distant echo of passing conversation and laughter. There are no cars, no chatter of coms, no hissing creepers or vroomping, thieving endermen. Just peace. And sometimes, if you listen carefully enough, the flapping of wings as the most blessed of the city’s inhabitants fly overhead, the celebrity darlings and envy of everyone below. For some of the hermits, life is good. Bdubs, Xisuma, Grian, and Jevin are all upper nobility. Xisuma and Grian are some of the lucky few with wings (bee and bird respectively for X and G), while Jevin is blessed simply for being sky blue and transparent- and a being so like the sky must surely be worthy of high ranking. Surely. Xisuma is an administrator of the city, one of those who keep track of the nitty-gritty bits, like how much food each sector goes through a month, the efficiency of the watering systems in the fields, etc. Grian is just a straight up celebrity darling, beloved by the people for his pranks and personality. Late at night, he runs a TV talk show. Jevin has a seat on the city governance, one of thirteen “elected” chancellors. Bdubs is another chancellor, low-key the one in charge, as it was his idea to create a city of white, one that ran on clean energy and lawfulness, who drew up the first blueprint and built much of the city himself. It’s said that there’s no corner of it he isn’t aware of, no part that he didn’t have a hand in designing. While this isn’t quite the case, one thing is certain- BDubs certainly has “designs” and they are very grand indeed. After these hermits fall the ones who are upper to middle class. Stress is a well-trusted doctor in the city’s finest hospital. She believes in the system that saved her life so long ago with all her heart and does her best to keep the city and its people running as best as they possibly can. Compassion and lawful goodness fall into the same boat for Stress, which can sometimes end poorly for criminals who go to her for medical care, thinking that surely a doctor as kind as Stress would never turn away someone, even if they have broken the law. What they forget is that becoming a doctor takes a spine of steel, and Stress has gone one step above the rest- she has a spine of chrome, and she will do what she must to keep her city running strong. (Incidentally, that chrome spine of hers? Not hyperbole, an “accident” at 6 made sure of that.) Vintagebeef runs a butcher shop and is mid to low ranking. He serves the best sandwiches in the city, as attested to by his best customers, Rendog and Falsesymmetry. Rendog is a happy go lucky reporter who spends equal time chasing skirts as he does chasing his next scoop. False is a beat cop, one of the best, and she’s gone viral at least once for dumping criminals who think that just because she's a girl that means she can’t fight. She’s particularly embarrassed (and a bit proud) of the video of her literally picking up a criminal and dumping him the nearest trash chute. Welsknight, the unfortunate garbage man, was quite unhappy to have to remove the criminal from the chute, as for all of False’s strength, she wasn’t quite strong enough to pry the man loose again. He now low-key follows False around to clean up all of her messes as while the media at large is quite fond of her feats, the local infrastructure isn’t. Somehow, he always ends up at the right place at the right time. Scar is a bit down on his luck, but overall is doing pretty well for himself. He’s one of the architects for the city, was in fact famous for a time for creating a specific style of sheer white skyscraper that allowed for more solar panels to be placed along its side. However, 2 years later and people are starting to realize that for some reason, his buildings aren’t as efficient as they ought to be and his designs have since fallen out of favor. Rendog had taken great joy running his name through the muck, unfortunately, as a man’s got to eat and for all the Scar is a nice guy, a renowned architect falling from grace makes for quite the scoop. The two don’t like each other much, but they’ve actually seen each other’s faces. Anyway, Scar has been living off of his savings, hoping that someone up top would care enough about him to fix the issue and find out what went wrong. After 2 years of nothing, however, he has realized that if he ever wants to figure out the mystery of his buildings’ lack of efficiency, he’ll need to find out himself. Little does he know, Keralis, the architect that replaced him, has been doing quite well for himself and the last thing he wants is to lose his position to the guy he had replaced. While a generally nice guy, Keralis has had a taste of the high life and now there’s no going back. He knows what Scar is up to, and is quite… invested in keeping the status quo. No. Matter. What. Joe Hills runs a bookstore. A completely normal bookstore. Yes, really officer, I promise. Just like how XB, his best friend and right hand man, employee of the month, every month, is entirely average in every way and has never done anything wrong in his life, ever. There is one more among the hermits who has wings- Etho. Or rather, had. Etho had his wings cut off for undisclosed crimes against the city and now works in a toy shop on the outskirts of town. He’s thoroughly mysterious and always looks tired, but his toys and trinkets business does surprisingly well and he always seems happy, behind that mask of his. The only hint that this isn’t quite the case is the tightness around his eyes. A secret? When they told him that the pain would never stop, that awful night when they burnt his wings off? He didn’t believe them. (Oh god, the way it smelled.) He really, really should have.

You’ve heard about the shining white walls, the perfect healthcare, the love the people hold for the city and the rigor with which they defend it. The quiet, the peace, the wonderful golden silence found in its streets and reflecting from its windows. Even the light seems quieter there. If you’re smart, you may have picked up that something isn’t quite right with the city, that 2/3s of our cast seems to be missing. You’d be right, almost. Mumbo, Cub. Cleo? They aren’t missing- they’re hiding. And they have very good reason to do so.

The city’s name is Sky’s Limit, and it is built on a foundation of marble and hard, cold law. It is a city of white… and black. And lurking in its shadows are all those that do not belong, those whose colors do not fit, those who can’t afford the brilliant marble towers or the plastic smiles popularized by the rich and famous. It is a city choked into silence by its secrets and one thing it cannot abide is the humming electric whine of redstone. And those who practice it are criminals in the eyes of the law, to be persecuted to its fullest extent and often, even beyond. Even to the grave, if needs must or the council orders such. And BDubs is so very, very fond of his restful, quiet beauty sleep. Not everyone agrees with these laws however, and brewing in the black, sunless shadows of the city’s underbelly are those determined to see the city shine red. Zedaph is the closest to legal of the underground hermits- he has to be when he has two more mouths to feed, Tango and Impulse. Although the latter two are redstone geniuses and do well in making food stretch and and make their ramshackle rented apartment livable, it is Zedaph alone who fake any marketable skills. While Impulse and Tango do their best to keep the lights on and use redstone wiring to steal power from the city’s solar- and wind-powered electrical grid, Zedaph peddles the doodads and toys he makes to the poorest children of the city. Many of them still contain some measure of redstone, as it's nigh-impossible to ignore its thrumming call entirely if you are born to do the stuff, but his target audience is usually too young, too uneducated, and too scared of the law to recognize it or say anything about it. And if a bit of redstone Impulse or Tango put together can help someone make it another day, and Zedaph can make it look passably legal? Well, some of the poorest housewives and mothers can look the other way The trio are happy together, but making ends meet is hard and with summer coming, resources are soon to be harder to get than ever. (A city of light and pure white? Things start to heat up fast, and water becomes more precious than ever. And with summer coming, it means less water gathering in puddles and drain pipes in the city, and thus less water for the underground redstoners and hybrids to tap into.) Little does Zedaph know, however, he’s caught the attention of another toymaker in the city. In addition to this, Tango is getting restless, frustrated with the trio’s lot in life. Even under normal circumstances he can’t sit still, and being cooped up inside all the time because his glowing red eyes give him away as being both a hybrid and really in tune with redstone? It sucks. A lot. Impulse tries to keep his buddy distracted, but there’s only so much he can do, and now, Tango has been disappearing at odd hours, frequently when he and Zedaph are trying to sleep, and coming back with an odd look in his eyes. Just a few days ago he had found the remains of a charred pamphlet in their dumpster out back. Something is coming to head, and Impulse isn’t sure he’s going to like the outcome. Not that he’d ever mention the mounting tension to Zedaph, of course. His buddy has enough to worry about. ZombieCleo… runs a speakeasy/burlesque show underneath Joe’s bookstore. She has his full approval of course, and they’re fast friends under the merits of he’s one of the only decent men she’s ever met. It helps that he’s hardcore aro-ace and has no interest in her or her girls. Cleo, being a zombie hybrid, knows all too well about the tough life being a hybrid is and how it can make people turn to awful things just to make ends meet. She knows that doing sex work is the last thing her girls want to be doing, not that they have a choice, and she does her best to do right by them. She protects her workers viciously, and if any of her patrons try to treat her girls too roughly, or try to skip out on payment? Well, being a hybrid comes with a few perks and a nice pair of teeth and nails is all part of the package. Coincidentally, Joe is awfully good at hiding a body. Doc is perhaps the most down on his luck of the hermits. As both a redstoner and an obvious hybrid, he can’t find work, he can’t find anyone willing to rent to him, he can barely even find food enough to eat. He’s resorted to petty theft and squatting, and if it wasn’t for his ruthless determination that this city would not be the death of him, he would have laid down and given up long ago. Not even the occasional rendezvous with the local garbage cans is enough to deter him (courtesy of the local beat cop. That woman has no right to be as strong as she is). It’s on one such day, trying to pry himself out of yet another trashcan far too small for him, that Doc finally gets his lucky break. The old man to whom the trashcan belongs to comes out, hoping to dispose of his waste for evening, and instead finds the creeper hybrid there, cursing up a storm and angry enough to kill. The sight would almost be threatening to TFC if, you know, he hadn’t seen worse and the hybrid in question looked like he hadn’t had a good meal for years. TFC invites Doc inside after helping to pry him loose, and Doc, while suspicious, accepts. TFC low key makes Doc move in with him and treats the man well, seeing as the poor hybrid reacts to every little thing as if he had never seen kindness. TFC also begins to tell stories to Doc about the time before the city was built, before redstone was outlawed and hybrids were looked down upon as lesser beings. And Doc, utterly enchanted by the concept, begins to have… ideas. Iskall was in the same position as Doc for a while, but they too get their lucky break. They get picked up by Mumbo Jumbo and is introduced to the Cotillion, the rebel group who are out to shake the city to its very foundations and bring about an age of redstone dominance. Mumbo and the hundreds of people under him plan on breaking the social order and instating redstoners and hybrids as the top dogs, and Iskall finds themself shocked that the rebels seem to have the organization and resources to actually do it. Mumbo is witty and charismatic, seemingly always having a plan and a silver-tongued speech to go with it. He also installs Iskall as second in command, much to their shock. Time will tell if the Cotillion is going to succeed. Cub is living in one of Scar’s buildings, along with many other redstoners. Just... Not entirely legally.

This is pretty much the end of the world-building section, I’ll come out with a post on the general plot as soon as I can. TBC :)

#hermitcraft #fanfiction #my writing #minecraft #sky's limit au #world building

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fioxis · 4 months ago

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OMG I LOVE UR PLAS AND CREEPER DRAWINGS!!!! (*≧∀≦*) Feeding us well

AAA TYSM!!! Im so happy to know that people enjoy this incredibly niche ship I somehow thought up in my head ;-;-;-;!!! ❤️❤️❤️ Here's some more fud hehe

Smol Jack under the cut because I didn't want him to feel left out XDD

No one can see him but he's still posing...

#plastic man #the creeper #eel o'brian #jack ryder #dc #dc comics #drawn by me #doodles #plastic man x the creeper

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ii-kanjiiiii · 3 years ago

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A RANDOM MIKU X READER FANFIC

By ii-kanjiiiii

Chapter 1

“Ring ding ding…” you woke up to the sound of your alarm ringing. You opened your eyes, and to your surprise, Hatsune Miku was standing there smiling at you.

“M-Miku?” you uttered in shock.

“Yes, Y/N,” Miku replied sweetly.

A manual suddenly appeared in front of you. “How to use Hatsune Miku” was written on it, along with some instructions.

You read it aloud.

“Congratulations! It’s your very own personal Miku, a high tech android who is designed to obey your every command. Have fun with Miku!”

You smirked.

“Miku, please take off your… hat. It looks stupid on you no offense.”

“Yes, master Y/N,” Miku replied, and took off the spongebob party hat she was wearing. God knows where it came from.

“Just call me Y/N lmao,” you said. “Come, I want you to watch Donald Duck with me.”

Miku followed you to your living room, where you had a 500-inch TV. You turned on Donald Duck, and in this episode, Donald was pooping burritos.

“Haaaaaaahaaaaaaahaaaaaahaaaaaahaaaaaaaaaa this show is so funny,” you laughed at each poop noise that Donald made.

Suddenly Miku started screaming and clipped through the sofa.

“HOLY SHIT MIKU ARE YOU OKAY” you screamed.

“Yes Y/N I am fine,” Miku said while T-posing.

“Creeper awww man, we need to take you to the Vocaloid workshop. You’re malfunctioning holy shit.”

Upon hearing that, Miku instantly started screaming like a baby pig.

“NOOOOOOO Y/N DON’T TAKE ME THERE!!! PLS NO!!!! ANYTHING BUT THE VOCALOID WORKSHOP!!! NOOOO PLEEEEEASE I BEG YOU!!!!!”

“I’m sorry, Miku, but it’s for your own good. If we don’t take you for a repair, you’re gonna die.

——————

-AT THE VOCALOID WORKSHOP-

“My Miku has been glitching and T-posing,” you said to the workshop employee or something.

“Oh, looks like she’s got the case of the ‘sluppys’ lmao,” the employee replied and giggled like Goofy.

“What the fuck is that.”

“Don’t worry. Just leave your Miku here with us for 24 hours and she’ll be fixed in no time!”

“Ok lmao. Goodbye Miku. Cya later,” you waved at Miku, then drove away on your purple race car.

After that, the employee grabbed Miku by her pigtails and shoved her into a plastic box.

“Damn it, Miku, stop screaming!” he yelled.

He closed the box shut, leaving a terrified Miku trapped in the dark, tiny space.

“HELP ME!!!!” Miku screeched. But no one responded to her cries.

#what the ufck #vocaloid #vocaloid fanfic

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doomedandstoned · 4 years ago

Audio

Adventures of the Starkiller

May The Fourth Be With You!

It was the first movie I ever saw. One of my earliest memories, too. Me and dad held hands as we stood in line that stretched around the block of a small theater in Seattle, waiting for a chance to see Star Wars - Episode IV: A New Hope (1977). I must have been three or four years old at the time. One watch was all it took for me to become a Star Wars fanatic! I have fond memories playing with that original line of action figures and a Death Star plastic and cardboard set (complete with an elevator to take you to three different stories -- oh yes, and to the trash compactor, too!).

Not surprising, my first crush was Princess Leah, who I always imagined I would grow up to marry. Definitely was a big fan of Han Solo, who I had a crush on in my own way. He was the role model of what it meant to be cool, confident, and put together. But Luke Skywalker was the one I actually identified with them most. He seemed somehow relatable, little human that I was just starting to explore the world around me.

So it is only natural that as an adult, I revisit the childhood film that still manages to pull me in every time (particularly those amazingly shot scenes of the Tatooine outback, where Luke and the droids were jumped by Sandpeople, only to be rescued by one Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Originally scripted under the working title, 'Adventures of the Starkiller - Episode 1,' with conceptual art by Ralph McQuarrie, Star wars would capture the imaginations of Generation X and beyond.

This is a hard rock and heavy metal tribute to the film that ruled those innocent days of childhood, consuming many hours of imagination and play, much to my mother's chagrin, but thankfully with my father's enthusiastic support (though he never did buy me that expensive Millenium Falcon that my friend Eric had down the street).

There are a few audio clips that piece together a narrative that stops short of completing the story, leaving the listener at a cliffhanger right as our heroes have hired a ship to take them to Alderan and are now speeding through space unaware that their greatest adventure lies still ahead!

Give ear now to...

...Adventures of the Starkiller!

May the force be with you, always.

Billy Goate Editor in Chief DOOMED & STONED

PLAYLIST

INTRO (00:00) 1. Haunt - "Heroes" (00:36)

WE'RE DOOMED! (05:11) 2. Candlemass - "Droid" (05:46)

FATHER DARKNESS (10:25) 3. Space Metal - "Shroud" (11:08) 4. Mercy - "Tyrant" (16:25)

WHEN DARTH MET LEAH (19:20) 5. Ice Princess - "Eternal Night" (19:58)

THE GREAT ESCAPE (24:13) 6. Eats Batteries - "Droids on Roids" (24:46)

NO ONE TO STOP US (29:31) 7. High on Fire - "The Black Plot" (30:21)

OF DROIDS & JAWAS (35:53) 8. Bantha Rider - "Sandcrawler" (37:31)

GOLDENROD'S JOB INTERVIEW (43:51) 9. Droid - "Unorganic Man" (44:24)

SUCH DISGUSTING CREATURES! (49:41) 10. Bantha Rider - "Jawa Juice" (49:50)

TELEPORT ME OFF THIS ROCK (58:48) 11. Robots of the Ancient World - "Cosmic Riders" (1:00:08)

RUNAWAY ROBOT (1:07:25) 12. Clutch - "Droid" (1:08:07)

SANDPEOPLE! (1:12:49) 13. High on Fire - "Fire, Flood & Plague" (1:14:15)

DESERT WIZARD (1:20:22) 14. Mos Generator - "Lonely One Kenobi" (1:21:49)

SHADY ORIGINS (1:26:53) 15. The Hot Wires - "Dark Energy" (1:28:03)

THROUGH ALL LIVING THINGS (1:31:57) 16. Major Kong - "Energy Whip" (1:32:08)

ROUSING REBELS (1:35:11) 17. Stonegriff - "Come Taste The Blood" (1:36:04)

INVITATION, HESITATION (1:41:25) 18. Kaiser - "Galactic Crusade" (1:42:24)

EMPIRE'S FALSE FLAG (1:48:27) 19. Adobe Homes - "Burnt House On Tatooine" (1:49:16)

WANNA BE A JEDI (1:52:26) 20. Space Metal - "New Blood" (1:52:48) 21. Black Sabbath - "Zero The Hero" (1:59:53)

TRAFFIC STOP (2:07:24) 22. Jupiter - Stonetrooper(2:07:58)

THE WEAK-MINDED (2:16:17) 23. Kvasir - "The Emperor" (2:16:38)

READY FOR ANYTHING (2:20:11) 24. Black Rainbows - "Minor Monster Galaxy Message" (2:20:32)

BOT BIGOTS (2:27:29) 25. Skunk - "Star Power" (2:27:47)

CANTINA CONFRONTATION (2:31:42) 26. Demonic Death Judge - "Taxbear" (2:32:36)

NEGOTIATING A SHIP (2:37:28) 27. Mammoth Weed Wizard Bastard - "The Spaceships of Ezekiel" (2:38:25)

SHOWDOWN IN THE HIVE OF VILLAINY (2:46:51) 28. Bantha Rider - "Uta tuta Solo (Greedo's Funeral)" (2:48:09)

FEAR. OF. THIS. BATTLESTATION. (2:54:04) 29. Beyond Belief - "Tyrants Of The Sun" (2:55:29) 30. Raven - "Space Station No.l 5 (Montrose Cover)" (3:00:45)

DISTURBING LACK OF FAITH (3:04:49) 31. General Grievous - "More Machine Than Alive" (3:05:55)

QUICK GETAWAY (3:10:04) 32. Stonetroopers - "Wookie Boogie" (3:10:50)

HYPERSPACE AT HYPERSPEED (3:14:30) 33. Mastodon - "Divinations" (3:15:25)

BLUE PLANET GO BYE-BYE (3:18:56) 34. Doom Machine - "At Last...We Reign!" (3:20:32) 35. Cosmonaut Fuzz - "Rings of Saturn" (3:25:36)

DISTURBANCE IN THE FORCE (3:33:24) 36. Bossk - "Heliopause" (3:33:40) 37. Gypsy Chief Goliath - "Masters of Space and Time" (3:37:27)

OUTRO - ONE MORE THING (3:46:17) 38. Teepee Creeper - "Far, Far Away" (3:47:32)

All imagery and sound clips belong to Lucasfilm and appear in this podcast under the assumption of fair/transformative use. This is a tribute to Star Wars & bears no official connection to the film.

#D&S Podcast #Adventures of the Starkiller #Doomed Cinema #The Doomed & Stoned Show #doom metal #stoner rock #doom #metal #hard rock #heavy metal #Star Wars #May The Fourth #May The Fourth Be With You #podcast #Doomed and Stoned

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irrelevantwriter · 5 years ago

Text

Feliz Navidad

Pairing: (Mayans MC) Angel Reyes x Female Reader/You

Rating: Explicit, NSFW

Warnings: Language, oral sex (female receiving), inappropriate use of a candy cane, a little hand job action, unprotected vaginal sex, mentions of bodily fluid, Angel being adorable hot as fuck, Angel’s ringed fingers (bc that shit is what keeps me up at night)

Word Count: 3.8K

Summary: There’s a Christmas party at the Mayan’s clubhouse and Angel has a sudden bout of inspiration that includes a candy cane, EZ’s trailer, and his very persuasive nature your extreme horniness.

AN: This is my contribution to @ne-gans follower celebration. Congrats on the shit ton of followers! And if you aren’t following her, please do! She’s an amazing writer of all things smut. My chosen prompt was “Who knew candy canes could be so erotic?” for Angel Reyes from Mayans MC and it was way too much fun to write. Hopes this puts you guys in the Christmas spirit, and if not, at least in the Angel Reyes spirit because that man deserves. Please read, enjoy, and share with your friends!

The amazing aesthetic was done by my fellow Angel thirst bitch and homegirl Ashley @negansdirtygirl22.

*Masterlist in bio.

*******************

Feliz Navidad

Próspero año y Felicidad

You hummed along to the music flowing through the speakers as you sipped from the eggnog clutched in your hand. The Mayan clubhouse was alive with holiday cheer and activity, a sight rarely witnessed within the walls. It had been a joint effort between you, the other wives, girlfriends, and of course Letty and Chucky, to bring some much needed spirit to the club. The last few months had been hard on everyone and you and the other women wanted to give the men something special to put their heavy hearts and minds at ease.

That’s where the Christmas party came into play. There had been plenty of parties around the holidays in the past, but nothing actually dedicated to one of your favorite times of year. This celebration was all about the horrible Christmas music, the way too boozy eggnog, the tamales that one of Creeper’s tias made, and the much needed sense of familia that had been lacking as of late. And it seemed to be paying off.

The space was decorated, all thanks to Letty and Chucky, who chose some of the most heinous looking plastic garland you’d ever seen. But it was the thought that counted. And everyone was having a good time. People were eating, drinking, laughing, and even playing Loteria in a corner. That’s where your eyes settled as they landed on your boyfriend trying to cheat in the game of bingo. His younger brother sat to his right, though he’d been banned from playing because of his unique memorization abilities.

You’d made a move to join him when Chucky appeared in front of you, mouth pulled into a wide grin. The man was obviously having a great time, if the red lipstick caked on his cheek was anything to go by.

“Señorita…” He greeted as he held up a candy cane, one of the larger ones that he’d purchased for the tree set up in the corner. “Para ti.” He held the treat out to you and you laughed, taking it from him.

“I accept that.”

If possible, his smile got even wider as he bounced off. You shook your head and smiled, truly taken by the oddity that was Chucky. Never a dull moment with the man.

You returned on your quest to finally join Angel. You two had rode together in your car, but had hardly spent time with each other once you’d hit the door. You’d been making sure everything was in place, helping El Presidente’s old lady as much as you could. Now you could finally relax and take in all the hard work; the outcome making you feel warm and impossibly cheerful.

“There she is.” Angel announced to the table, gesturing to your approaching figure.

You maneuvered so that you could sit on his lap, your legs pulled to one side and tightly together to keep your red dress in place. His arms welcomed you in, immediately attaching to you like a magnet. His calloused hands landed on your hip and bare thighs, unconsciously caressing the skin there. The motion made a rapid zap of heat shoot up your thighs.

“Baby, tell the guys that I don’t cheat at Lotería.” His voice sounded slightly petulant, like he’d been accused of the crime and teased mercilessly for it.

You sat your cup down and let your fingers dance in his hair, his dark eyes gazing up at you with boyish charm and excitement. It felt good to see him so carefree. It made all the pain worth it. All the late nights and brushes with death; the time you spent worrying that he’d never make it home to you. That all got erased in these moments.

“He doesn’t cheat at Lotería.” You dutifully repeated for him to the table of men. He nodded in satisfaction, feeling as if he’d won. “But he does at Uno.”

A loud series of “Ohhhhhs” and deep chuckles filled the space as they reacted to your statement. Angel looked at you in faux betrayal, his eyes crinkling at the sides from barely subdued laughter.

“Really, querida? Just like that. Telling my whole business.” His ringed fingers landed heavy on your lap, edging the hem of your dress up slightly.

You giggled and burrowed yourself into his neck. “Sorry, baby.” You left a chaste kiss on his neck, knowing your comment would be forgiven with the gesture.

“Hmmm,” He hummed, eyes squinted up at you in scrutiny. “You can make it up to me.” He raised his brows in question, lip pulled into a devilishly handsome smirk.

You let out a girlish giggle, unable to help yourself when he flirted with you. You vaguely noticed that the rest of the table had gone back to their conversations and the game, no longer paying attention to the wrapped up couple.

“Oh, I will…” You teased with a bite to your bottom lip. His eyes followed the movement, hands gripping your bare flesh just a little bit tighter in response. He ran his tongue over his own bearded lips and your breath caught slightly, feeling the alcohol and your sudden arousal start to take effect.

“How about right now?” He whispered into your ear, nibbling at the appendage. You closed your eyes for an instant, momentarily lost in the sensation before you remembered where you were. Angel had that kind of influence over you, and you hoped it never waned.

“And where would we go?” You responded breathlessly, only slightly embarrassed by your strong reaction to his minimal ministrations.

He smirked up at you, somewhat surprised by your willingness to go along with his mischief. Angel loved pushing your sexual limitations. He loved testing your boundaries and exploring all facets of pleasure. You felt comfortable enough with him that you found yourself ready to follow him to the ends of the Earth. Not to mention, the man owned your heart, fully and without condition. You were his in a way you’d never belonged to any man before. And you could confidently say the same thing about him. Angel was devoted to you. And he liked to show you just how much on multiple occasions.

“I got an idea.” He looked around you and to the room, inspecting your surroundings. He leaned up again and whispered into your ear, the grittiness in his voice making you shiver. “Let’s go outside.”

You nodded and wordlessly got up with Angel’s help, letting him lead you to the door and outside. No one called out for you. No one even seemed to notice your absence. Excitement pulsed through your blood as he gripped your hand and pulled you with him across the dirt lot. You didn’t ask questions. You didn’t stop him. You let him take control.

He opened the door of EZ’s trailer with a key inside of his leather. He helped you up the rickety steps, your black heeled boots not making the feat easy. He shut the door once you’d made it inside, the space cramped and narrow. EZ hadn’t been staying in the trailer lately so the place was a little dusty. You felt a small sweep of guilt at invading the space for your own personal debauchery. But seeing Angel eye-fucking you like he was right now made those feelings dissipate right out of the trailer.

“Have I told you how fucking hot you look tonight?” He asked from his spot near the small dining table. His intense study of you and his words made you instantly wet, your panties barely catching the residual.

“Yeah, you mentioned something about wanting to bend me over the counter before we left the house earlier. Does that count?” You replied with your own wicked smile.

He chuckled and stepped forward, hand smoothing down his whiskers. You’d started to see hints of grey within the strands and you’d let Angel know how attractive you found that as soon you’d spotted them. He was more than appreciative of your “compliments”.

“What’s this?” He pulled at your left hand, just now seeing the candy cane still clutched in your palm. You barely remembered you’d had it, too concerned with letting Angel get you alone.

“Chucky gave it to me.”

He took the red and white candy and pulled at the wrapper, removing it far easier than you would’ve been able to. He eyed the item closely and seemed to get an idea because his eyes bled into yours, the sizzling tension now undeniably boiling over.

He held out the long end towards you, near you mouth. You didn’t need to be told what to do. You wrapped your lips around the candy, sucking at the flavor. You stared up at Angel through your made-up lashes as you gently tongued the stick, the innuendo more than obvious. His breathing hitched when you took more of the candy down your throat, your mouth nearly meeting his fingers clutching the other end.

“Fuck…” He cursed once you finally released it from your clutches. He let the end dance over your lips, plucking your bottom one down and watching it fall back into place.

He pulled you to him with his other hand and captured your mouth. His tongue immediately sought entrance and you obliged. He tangled himself up with you, tasting the peppermint that now seeped from your mouth. Your hands gripped his kutte, desperate to feel his body pressed against yours.

You both pulled away, chests heaving. You could feel the heat around your mouth, the scratches of his beard burning your flesh. There were remnants of your lipstick smeared on his bearded lips, the sight fueling a possessive streak in you. He brought the candy cane up to his own mouth and sucked, intertwining the two of you.

“Come on, baby…” He grasped your hand and directed you to one of the cushioned benches. “Sit back.”

You had a weakness for Angel’s commanding nature in the bedroom. The way he would demand things of you while never expecting a response made you feverish. He knew he couldn’t get away with that treatment outside of the bedroom, but he more than catered to that desire when necessary. And he did it verywell.

You followed his lead as he gently sat you back against the cushion, kneeling in front of you. Your heartbeat accelerated, centering right between your thighs. His hands widened your legs and pushed your dress up, propping your heeled boots on his shoulders. He stared up at you with such intensity that you had to squirm against the seat to alleviate the ache. He caught the action and snickered.

“Relax, dulce. I got you.”

You nodded and bit your lip when his hands shifted your dress over your hips to expose the festive red lace panties you were wearing. You were exposed to him and you relished the unbridled lust that oozed from his pores and out onto you.

“Goddamn, you look good.” He swept a finger over your clothed slit, causing you to jerk. The material was damp, your body more than ready for his touch. “Feel good too.” He mumbled, finger still tracing your swollen lips.

You let out a whimper, his teasing having a more powerful effect than usual. You rocked your hips against his touch, encouraging him to explore you further. Angel was an impatient man, and while he was a master at teasing, he ran out of patience just as fast. He pulled the lace down your thighs and off, flinging the fabric somewhere behind him. You tugged at his thick locks and arched your back when his mouth finally connected with your opening. His hands split your thighs further apart, making room for his eager mouth. You threw your head back and moaned, feeling Angel lick up your walls. There was a slight cooling sensation and you realized it was the peppermint that lingered on his lips. The result felt amazing against your heated skin.

“Jesus, Angel…” You moaned when his lips attached to your clit. His face was buried in you, your slick coating him, and yet you felt as if he wasn’t close enough.

He pulled away with a smirk and suddenly brought the candy cane into your line of vision. You struggled to center back into reality and not on the neediness of your hunger.

“You trust me, baby?”

“Of course.” You answered without hesitation.

He nodded and moved back down to your spread thighs. “Lemme know if you want me to stop.”

You were about to chastise him for making you wait when you felt the pressure of something hard at your entrance. It was small, but firm and it slid into you easily. A low moan fell from your lips as it shallowly entered you and then traveled back out and up to your clit. Angel blew on your skin and the realization hit you. He was fucking you with the candy cane. The minty tingle left in its wake made you scratch at his scalp, unsure if you wanted more or not. The combination of dueling hot and cold sensations had goosebumps breaking out onto your flesh.

“You good?” He asked with a gentle lick to your weeping pussy.

You nodded, unable to find your voice as he continued to assault your clit with the candy.

“Want me to stop?”

“No.”

His mouth launched into a frenzied feeding as he opened you up to him. His tongue dived in and out of you, making your thighs clench around his head. That rush of lava-like heat started to consume your entire body as he worked you over, never stopping. His goal was clear as he sped up and you cried out when his mouth became too much. You stiffened and shook with each shock as you sailed through feelings of love, adoration, and immense pleasure.

“Shit, mi amor…” Angel rasped with amazement as he stared down at your now lax body. He didn’t let you rest as he pulled you into an upright position, locking your lips against his. You tasted yourself mixed with the sweetness of the candy and you found yourself wanting more.

His hands gripped your thighs and lifted you up, switching your positions. He now occupied your spot on the bench while you sat astride his lap, your needy pussy seeking out is hardened cock through his jeans. You pushed down on him, taking pleasure in the way he growled into your mouth. He began lifting your dress over your head and you aided him in removing it. His mouth immediately sought out your pebbled nipples through the red lace of your bra. You pulled him to you, your hands back to tugging at his hair.

He unclasped your bra and pulled it down and off your shoulders. You mirrored his actions by pulling off his kutte and unbuttoning his flannel. His tanned skin beckoned you, the black ink only fueling your want. You ran your nails down his chest, not hard enough to hurt but enough to let him know just how much you needed him in that moment.

“Take what you want, baby.” He taunted, directing your hands to his belt buckle.

You didn’t waste any time, pulling the buckle and button from its confines. He shifted his hips, helping you release his aching cock. At the sight of him you could feel your walls literally pulse, the phantom sensation of him buried inside you making you clamp down on nothing. You licked your hand, coating your palm with saliva. Cum was already leaking from his tip and you used it to pump his rigid cock.

“Fuck,” He cursed with his head thrown back. You took the opportunity to leave bruising kisses on his neck, suckling at the skin and making your way up to his ear lobe. You gently pulled at the appendage with your teeth, feeling his hips buck up into yours.

“Ride me.”

You followed his breathless request and slowly slipped him inside you. Your walls greedily accepted him, seating him inside of you perfectly. You both moaned in unison once you’d taken him in fully, his pulse synchronizing with yours. You sat in his lap, unmoving and soaking up the feel of him. He craned his mouth up, seeking yours. You met him in a slower, more tender kiss than the ones previous. He palmed your ass, rolling your hips against his. You took the hint and began moving, letting him slide in and out of you at a leisurely pace.

“Fuck, keep going.” He panted, fingertips gripping your hips and ass tightly. His mouth moved across your chest and collarbone, his hips attempting to meet yours.

The whine of the seat bench beneath you began to fill the space as you moved faster, chasing the fireworks that were sure to come. The trailer began to rock as you repeatedly fucked yourself on Angel’s cock. The girth of him burned, but the orgasmic bliss that came with it soon overpowered.

“Angel, right there…shit.” You rubbed at your clit as he fucked up into you, white lights starting to dance behind your lids, though that could’ve been the twinkling lights decorating the clubhouse that reflected in through the curtains.

“You gonna cum?” He nipped at your chin, his pace not letting up.

“Mmhm…” You moaned, biting into your lip to keep your enthusiastic screams at bay.

In the next moment, Angel had your hips halted in place above is cock as he rammed repeatedly against your cervix. You gripped his forearms, keeping your balance as he ravaged you. Your whole body reacted to the shift and when his hand manipulated your clit, you came undone.

You acted on impulse as you held Angel to you, gripped tightly in your quaking embrace. You no longer cared about being quiet as you moaned and whimpered, careening through space. He talked you through your orgasm, mumbling expletives and how beautiful you looked with his cock inside you. All of it added to the fire. All of it made both your heart and pussy flutter.

“Mi amor,” He called, his voice still sounding distant in your ringing ears.

You buried your face into his neck as he chased his own end. He grunted, his rings digging into your skin as he finally came. Thick warmth filled you, the feeling of being complete finally achieved. You watched his features twist in ecstasy and in a flash they were relaxed, his body following suit.

The distant laughter and music could be heard over the lot, the party still very much going strong. You both caressed and held each other, not in any hurry to detach. Angel touched you with a softness that made you smile lazily, the leftover oxytocin making you feel more connected to him. He mirrored your expression, caressing your neck and cheeks.

“Te quiero.”

“I love you too.” You confessed, shifting a strand of hair that had fallen against his forehead.

“Fuck...” He sighed tiredly. “Someone’s gonna come looking for us soon.”

“We can pick this back up at home.” You replied with a sleepy smile and wink. You shifted off his lap, hissing at the loss of him. His cum started to slip past your lips instantly and you rushed to find your panties.

Angel found them on the counter and helped you step into them, your legs still feeling unsteady. He smirked up at you once they cleared your hips, a lone finger sliding against your crotch.

“Quit, Angel.” You whimpered, pushing his hand away. He laughed, enjoying how sensitive you always got after sex. He was already dressed and pulling his kutte back on while you slipped your bra onto your shoulders and turned away from him. His fingers clasped the garment in place, hands smoothing down your back. He placed a soft kiss to your shoulder and reached for your dress. You took it from him and pulled it over your head, walking to the small vanity mirror above the sink to check your reflection.

After making sure your hair and makeup were still presentable, you turned to face Angel. He had the candy cane back in his hands, eyeing the sweet with a wistfulness.

“Where’d that come from?” You asked, having suspected the candy to have gotten lost during your activities.

“The table.” He motioned to the flimsy piece of furniture, the thing looking like it was on its last leg, literally.

You both moved towards the door, Angel opening it for you and taking your hand to help you down the steps. You took in gulps of the crisp night air, glad to be out of the stifling heat of the trailer. The thing surely smelled of sex and you made a mental note to air it out before you left.

“Don’t you think you should throw it away?” You gestured to the candy cane as you both walked back up to the clubhouse.

“Nah,” Angel shook his head and popped the thing right back into his mouth, a self-satisfying smile lighting up his face. “Think we should keep it. You can use it on me later.” He wiggled his eyebrows at you.

You laughed as heat warmed your face. Thinking on where that candy cane had been moments before and how much you enjoyed it made you look away from his mischievous expression, the desire already making a fierce comeback.

“Who knew candy canes could be so erotic?” You questioned playfully.

The moment was interrupted by the clubhouse door opening as you both climbed the steps, EZ walking out with an unreadable look on his face. He took a moment to look between the two of you. Angel was sucking on the candy cane, suppressing a smirk, while you tried hard not to meet the younger sibling’s eyes. His gaze shifted to the trailer and he sighed, head shaking.

“Are you guys serious?”

“What?” Angel attempted in an act of innocence. It wasn’t believable.

“You find ‘em, boy scout?” Coco called from behind EZ, cigarette propped between his fingers. He joined you on the porch, eyes taking in the situation. He appeared to find the whole thing comical, leading you to believe that you did not look as put together and unassuming as you’d initially thought when exiting the trailer.

“You owe me.” EZ deadpanned to Coco. You watched in astonishment as Coco cursed and then reached into his pocket for what looked like a twenty dollar bill, begrudgingly handing it off to him.

“What the fuck?” Angel questioned, eyes jumping between the two men.

“I bet boy scout you guys left to handle business. He said you were handling it out here. He won.” Coco explained rather nonchalantly.

Angel scoffed out a laugh, male ego now inflated, while you rolled your eyes. “Are we really that predictable?” You asked.

“Yeah.” Both men replied in unison. They laughed and turned to go back inside to the party.

You went to follow when a hand stopped you. Angel tugged and motioned up, your eyes catching the mistletoe hanging from the wooden beam. You smiled and let him pull you in for a more PG-rated kiss than the series of impassioned ones moments before.

“Merry fucking Christmas, querida.” He whispered against your lips, dark eyes conveying emotion he didn’t have to voice.

“Merry fucking Christmas, baby.”

#lisa's 5.5k follower celebration #lisa's xmas challenge 2019 #angel reyes #angel reyes x reader #angel reyes x female reader #angel reyes x you #angel reyes fic #angel reyes fanfiction #mayans mc #mayans fx

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sassy-pelican · 5 years ago

Text

Soulmate AU: Sebastian Stan

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x plus-size-fem!Reader (based off self, explanation in the author’s note) Premise: On your twenty-first birthday, or the twenty-first birthday of your soulmate, you inhabit their body for twenty-four hours. The reader/you wake(s) up as Sebastian Stan. Warning: Fluff, humor, language, implied 18+/NSFW. I don’t know.

A/N: I am basing the reader off of myself. I know that means some physical characteristics are going to be different than actual readers, but I kind of wanted to use the oddity that is my body as a base because of the challenges it might cause for a person that has been a man for their entire life. In no way am I trying to alienate any readers. Also, for the intent of this AU, the reader is going to be bisexual; if that will bother anyone, please don’t read it. Sebastian will also have 20/20 vision, something I am unsure about. If anyone would like to rewrite this to be more inclusive, they may do so, only if they/you have a link to my original post. This has not been edited. Please enjoy.

Your POV

Finally, less than a day left until you figure out who your soulmate is. Fuck, I hope it isn’t some creepy person. You think to yourself, hoping with everything in that the man or woman’s body you will be in for a whole twenty-four hours isn’t some pervert. You look down, and suddenly begin to feel a but sorry for the person who has to be you for a day.

You aren’t exactly skinny, and while you have made your peace with that, and have realized that without a little extra weight, you would be too top-heavy to have a functioning back, someone else might not. Your thighs touch, your arms are far too long, and all your height is in your legs, which equates to you looking like a newborn deer trying to walk most of the time.

What if they are younger than you and nothing happens? What is they are older and are mad that it didn’t happen sooner? Fuck. Your mind is racing, going through every possible scenario, trying to find an easy explanation. Slowly, you feel yourself begin to panic. Stop! No, we are not going to do this today [Y/N]! No panicking!

Somehow, you yelling at yourself mentally helps. It always seems to anyway. Shit, you should probably clean a little. If this soulmate of yours is going to be you, they are going to see your house, and your bedroom. You look at your bedroom. It is a mess. Clothes everywhere, blankets and pillows everywhere, nothing is clean. You even have your old princess blanket on your bed at the moment. Well that’s kind of embarrassing. Maybe you should change that.

Three hours later, almost everything that was covering your bedroom floor, is now covering your laundry room floor. Still a mess, but not in the first place he or she will see. You hesitate to change the blanket though. It is big and warm and soft; all things that help you sleep, and tonight you might need all the help you can get. Oh, fuck it. It’s staying.

The Next Morning

Peeling your eyes open, you are met with a room very different from your own. It looks like a hotel, and a nice one at that. You also realize that you don’t have boobs but do have a dick. Well, I guess I am a man. You laugh, a lower octave than you are used to, it actually shocks you before you realize, yet again that you are not you. Looking down at yourself, you notice a nice set of abs, which both pleases and alarms you. What if this guy is a fitness nut and expects me to be one too? No, no panicking. Not today. Maybe you should call yourself, see how the person who has your body is doing.

Silently picking up their phone, you realize that is has a passcode, one you don’t know. Well fuck. Sighing, you get up, ready to see who you are, not that you are likely to know who you are, but just maybe, maybe you have met this man before. As you reach the mirror, it hits you. Like a wall of bricks. “Fuck!”

Sebastian’s POV

This isn’t my hotel. What the hell, is that? Reaching up, I grab boobs. “What the fuck?” Confused, I sit up, and see a … a princess blanket? Okay this is getting weird. And Ariel is far too tan. At least the bed is comfy. Brows scrunched in confusion, I slide off of the bed, and walk around the house for a while, noticing very little. Not with my mind still racing at waking up with boobs. And not small ones at that.

Who is this girl? Where is this girl? I hear something. It almost sounds like feet, but not feet. Oh shit, does this girl have a kid? I walk around the corner, and see a dog coming to greet this woman. Thank the universe, I don’t know how well that would have went over. “Who are you?” I ask, not sure why, it isn’t like the dog can answer me.

I continue walking around and spot a note on the kitchen counter. At least there is something. I wasn’t prepared, the poor girl doesn’t have anything to guide her through me. My eyes widen. Fuck. This person is going to wake up as me! Pull yourself together Seb, this isn’t the end of the world. I look at the note.

‘Hello, my name is [Y/F/N] [Y/L/N] and if you are reading this you must be my soulmate. I’m sorry in advance. Please feed Mae a cup of dog food, it is in the big bucket in the pantry, with the cup in said bucket, after you eat dinner. No specific time, but she expects to be fed after you, well me. Anyway … I don’t have plans today, and told everyone to leave me alone, so you don’t have to worry about interacting with total strangers. I have a reminder on my phone to take meds at nine p.m., please don’t ignore it. There is a little plastic container with the bottles and stuff next to my bed with everything you need there. The passcode is [your passcode]. The neighbors can be really noisy, saying anything causes them to get louder so just deal with it the best that you can. Feel free to look through any of my books, I personally recommend Sarah J Maas, or the box set of Harry Potter. Don’t have too much fun. I have to live with whatever you do. ~ [Y/N]’

She sounds nice. Maybe I can make this work. Although, I am still in shock that boobs cause this much discomfort and are this heavy. I wonder what size bra she wears. No. Snooping would be rude, and I, Sebastian Stan am not a rude creeper. At least not yet.

Your POV

You are Sebastian Stan. A celebrity. Of all the possibilities you prepared for, this wasn’t one of them. It never occurred to you that he hadn’t met his soulmate yet. You always just thought that he had met her, and they couldn’t make it work or he kept her behind camera or something. Not that you are complaining, but this wasn’t something you had prepared for.

His phone dings. You read the preview. ‘My pass code is 6548.’ You smile, thankful that he saw your note and thought to reciprocate.

The knock on the door is echoing through your head. Sighing, you get up and do what Sebastian said. You let him in. Chris Evans. Great. You have to talk to one of your celebrity crushes, through your soulmates body, while not freaking out, about being in your soulmates body.

“We have a situation.” You say before Chris can even open his mouth.

“Okay?” He asks, hesitant.

“I am kind of not Sebastian. We have been texting and he told me to tell you what was going on.” You elaborate.

Chris smiles. “Fucking finally!” He practically yells, while doing a little happy dance.

“Um … thanks?”

“Sorry. I am just excited. Anthony is the only one out of the three of us, that has found his.” He stops. “Oh! Text him that I expect an equally enthusiastic response when I find mine.”

“I will. Later. But right now, you need to help me. Does he have anything planned publicly? He didn’t say.”

“Not that I am aware of, but you might want to ask him just to be sure. Oh, I forgot to ask, who are you?” Chris asks.

“I’m [Y/N], apparently I am Sebastian’s soulmate.” You answer.

“Is he in for a body shock? You don’t have to tell me anything specific.”

“Yes. Yes, he is. Already commented on it actually.” You reply, a smile on your face.

“Nothing bad I hope.” He eyes me, well Sebastian, warily.

“No, at least it wasn’t anything that I haven’t thought about everyday since I was twelve.” You elaborate.

“Please continue.”

“Boobs, Chris. I am talking about boobs.” You deadpan. He blushes a little.

“Right. Um, well, wish him luck for me?” You laugh at his embarrassment. The camaraderie between you two coming easier than you thought. Maybe it has to do with Sebastian already being friends with him?

“So, [Y/N], would you like to hear some embarrassing stories about your beloved Seb?”

Sebastian’s POV

It has been hours. She should have texted me again by now. What the fuck Seb? You don’t even know this girl and you are already clingy. I sigh, patting Mae’s head. The two of us have gotten off to a good start. Although I think it had a lot to do with the fact that I don’t think she realizes I am not [Y/N].

I have also discovered that she was right about her neighbors. They are loud. I followed her advice to not confront them, although, it took all of my restraint to do so. I also figured out that she is a lot stronger than she looks. I almost yanked the fucking door to the refrigerator off because I pulled so hard. All my, or her limbs that is, feel awkward too. Like they are little long for her body. But I am not going to question it.

Her princess blanket has become my new favorite object though. It is so soft. However, her food is delicious. She might not have a whole a lot when she returns though. Walking back into her bedroom I eye the nightstand. Don’t women keep strange things in there? Cautiously, I open it. Nothing. I look to the dresser. Nothing.

I go to shut her underwear drawer, something I didn’t intend to open, okay maybe I did, and hear a rattling. I tap the bottom. Shit. A false bottom. Tentatively, I remove it. My eyes go wide.

Your POV

It has been a while since Chris left. And you are bored out of your mind. There is nothing on the hotel television, and he has no books in his room. Almost as if of their own accord, your hands are rifling through his bedside table. You find an order form. Quite a lengthy one at that too. You look at the titles. Holy fuck, he ordered porn. You grab his phone.

A/N 2: I was going to continue it to include what each of them did with the deal, but after trying to write it and reading what other smut I have written. I realized. I really suck at it. (no pun intended.) However, if anyone would like to try their hand at writing said scenes, feel free. I only ask that you tag me and link the original post. Any questions regarding the post and any specifics I will answer. The website I used for the text messages can be found in the message bar of each.

Also, all text messages are from Sebastian’s phone. I apologize to anyone who actually has that passcode. It just popped into my brain. I also feel the need to clarify his reaction to the possibility of the reader having a kid. I am in no way implying that Sebastian doesn’t like kids/want kids. But if I woke up in someone else’s body and they had a kid I didn’t know, I would be freaking out a little. (I love kids by the way).

#sebastian stan fanfiction #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan humor #sebastian stan #sebastian stan fluff #sebastian stan smut #other stories

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joonsrack · 5 years ago

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+PAIRING: Kim Seokjin x Kim Namjoon

+GENRE: SFW, slow burn, ficlet (do people use that term anymore?) mini series, it’s not exactly fluff but it’s soft i guess.

+THE ONE WHERE SEOKJIN IS A PART TIME COP AND A FULL TIME NAMJOONSITTER SERIES: Part I | Part II | Part III

+WORD COUNT: ~3k

+SUMMARY:

“You know hyung, that’s why even though you've got that face, you're still single; you can’t see a good opportunity even when it moves next door.”

“Excuse me?” Seokjin says, feeling pretty insulted. He chose to be single, single didn’t chose him.

+WARNINGS: Very brief mention of sexual harassment, abuse of italics.

Awkward is not strong enough a word to describe how meeting Namjoon in their building is.

How do you even act around your attractive new next door neighbour on which you pulled a gun on your first meeting? Jimin is laughing forever, the asshole.

Plus, Jimin keeps telling him he needs to take him out, to 'apologize', but the fucker has already guilt tripped a ride in the police cruiser out of him (without the lights, thank you very much), what more is he supposed to do?

“You know hyung, that’s why even though you've got that face, you're still single; you can’t see a good opportunity even when it moves next door.”

“Excuse me?” Seokjin says, feeling pretty insulted. He chose to be single, single didn’t chose him.

“Oh come on, you’re life’s prime example that a good face doesn’t equate having game.” Jimin says, and finds himself two second away from needing a new best friend and roof.

“I don’t know how you came to the conclusion that I had any interest for Namjoon—”

“Hyung, you wrote his name instead of yours on your last report.”

“I was distracted.”

“You downloaded all of their songs even though you despise rap songs.”

“My taste can evolve!”

“You looked him up on facebook and instagram without following or sending a friend request.”

“I—” he starts, but pauses.

Yeah, that last one made it pretty obvious.

A god given opportunity presents itself, and even Seokjin can admit this must be faith. Or fatality. He’s hoping it’s the first one.

He’s coming back home, arms loaded with groceries, and almost turns around and tuck tails once he catches sight of a tall shadow standing in the hallway. He freezes when he hears the tell tale sound of metal snapping,

followed by a low groan that will haunt his dreams forever. He sneaks a look over his shoulder to catch Kim Namjoon, head in his hands, looking… very blond. And despondent. But blond, hi. Gone is the dark silver, his hair bleached almost white.

Seokjin takes a deep calming breath, hoping this will not go as badly as he knows it will. It’s not like it can go worse than their first meeting, so he can at least find joy in that.

“Hello there,” he says, taking slow steps towards the man.

Namjoon takes one look at him, then looks away, avoiding his eyes as red blossoms on his cheeks.

“Before you pull out your gun; as we have already established, I live here, so this is not me trying to break in.”

Ouch.

Seokjin chuckles to cover up the fact that he just got served.

As he gets closer, he spies something in Namjoon’s hand, and; yep, that’s half a key. He could bet his handsome face that the second half is stuck in the lock.

“Looks like you’ll have to call someone for that one.” Seokjin says, approaching the man carefully like he’s a wounded animal. He definitely looks like he’s about to snap.

He’s dressed in all black, and Seokjin is not in uniform, so he indulges in a quick once over while the man is looking at anything but him. Black leather jacket, black jeans, black boots, making his new hair colour stand out even more. The bad boy look is strong with this one, although the knowledge he could probably spill a sippy cup ruins the image a bit.

“You could… call a locksmith and then wait for them at my place, with a cup of tea.” Seokjin tries, and let it be known that he’s got game; Park Jimin can go to hell.

Namjoon looks at him again, this time with a self deprecating smile on his face that breaks Seokjin’s heart in a thousand pieces. There’s dark circles under his eyes, like he hasn’t had a good night of sleep in a few days.

“If you hold your stuff dear, you better leave me outside.” He says, taking out his cellphone and sending a quick text to someone.

Seokjin makes a quick inventory of every object and furniture currently in his living room, but can’t think of anything that would warrant leaving the blond man sitting duck in the hallway.

“If you just sit nice and tight on the couch, I’m sure I can find a plastic cup somewhere that you can’t break.”

Namjoon looks around, like he’s searching for a reason to say no, but his phone pings then, and he peeks at the incoming text.

“Shit.” He says. “Locksmith can’t make it for at least two hours. And I'm already late. Damnit.”

Seokjin decides to ignore the fact that Namjoon is on texting basis with his locksmith, balancing his groceries in one hand and unlocking the door with his other. He holds the door open, looking expectantly at Namjoon until the man takes the hint and steps hesitantly in his direction.

“Hope you’re insured.” Are his last words before he sets foot in Seokjin’s home.

He takes off his jacket —and who the hell wears a leather jacket in summer—and puts it on a hook, but the hook doesn’t hold and both fall to the ground.

Seokjin is very impressed; a very short second has yet to pass and the destruction has already begun.

“It was loose anyway.” he hurries to say at Namjoon’s blank expression. He grabs the jacket after putting the groceries away on the table and puts it on the back of a chair, then waits until Namjoon steps out of his usual black boots to lead him to the couch.

“It’s an interesting choice, black boots in summer.” He says, to break the silence and awkwardness.

“Steel toe” is the only answer he gets, and it actually makes a lot of sense. It also seems to be a sore subject, so he doesn’t ask about the leather jacket.

With Namjoon looking extremely stiff on his couch, like he’s trying to keep every muscle still, Jin leaves for a moment to put away the groceries and to try and find what he needs to make an accident-prone-person’s cup of tea. Well aware the man is most definitely not immune to spills, he ends up finding an old reusable ice tea Starbucks cup, needing a few minutes to locate the matching straw. He pours their drinks on ice and serves both of them an iced tea.

It’s summer, after all.

He drops the drink on the low table only to look up and realizes his guest is… fast asleep. His head is reclined against the back of the couch, his mouth hanging slack and emitting soft snores. The rest of his body looks locked tight even in his slumber, his hands stuck to his thighs with his legs straight. He looks like he’s used to sleeping without moving a muscle, which just mustn’t be nice. After looking at Namjoon’s sleeping form long enough to effectively feel like a creeper (the loose neck line of his t-shirt exposing a tantalizing amount of collarbone), he finds a small fleece blanket, his AC making the insides of his apartment pleasantly fresh but dangerous for uncovered throats.

As softly and quietly as he can, he covers Namjoon’s whole upper body with the blanket, only leaving his head poking out.

He looks proudly at his work after taking a step back, but the stupid smile on his face disappears once he realizes he just babied a grown ass man who he barely knows. Namjoon will probably think this is weird, right?

He’s tempted to take back the blanket to preserves his dignity, but risking the man waking up as he’s ripping it off him is not a position he wants to find himself in.

He settles for sitting on the other side of the couch, sipping at his glass quietly, trying to stop his eyes from wandering to the man’s sleeping form and failing pretty badly.

In the end, his glass empty and discarded on the coffee table, Namjoon’s even breathing ends up making his own lids feel heavy. It’s his first day off in a while, and the first few hours of it have been spent running around the city, so before he knows it, he’s joining the other man in dreamland.

“There’s a hot young man doing things to your neighbour’s door knob that will star in my wet dreams for and undetermined futu— Hyung, What the hell.” Is what Seokjin’s wakes up to.

He’s laying on his side, head pillowed on a nice and comfy surface that is sadly tensing up by the second, and that’s how Seokjin knows he will never be able to look at Namjoon in the eyes again.

He dares to crack an eye, and once he confirms his very pillowed head on Namjoon’s very thighs, he takes back everything he earlier thought.

How naive it was of him to believe he couldn’t do worse than their first meeting.

He uses every single muscle in his body to roll off the couch as fast as possible, his fight or flight response deeming it the quickest way to get off Namjoon’s lap. His body connect to the floor with a heavy thud, but not before knocking the coffee table hard enough to make Namjoon’s untouched drink inevitably topple off. His spill-proof solution proves itself insufficient as the lids pops open and the chilled tea explodes all over his chest, soaking his whole torso.

Wearing his thin and light pink summer shirt had seemed like such a good idea that morning, the sunny and clear sky promising a beautiful day. Now, as the fabric clings to his chest leaving nothing to the imagination, he curses the day he ever bought it.

As he lays still on the floor, cold liquid dripping off him and on the carpet, he takes a moment to regret every single decisions that lead him to this very moment. At the top of that list is of course, listening to Jimin’s advice. One day, he’ll take the time to think about how funny it is that every bad things that happened in his life can be linked back to that particular man.

Meanwhile, Taehyung is still staring from the and Namjoon is still perfecting his imitation of a statue on the couch.

Seokjin can’t see his face from his position on the floor, until the man reclines forward to look over the edge of the couch and down at him.

“First, abuse of firearm, and now sexual harassment? You've been a very exemplary police officer these past few weeks, Kim Seokjin-ssi.” He says, the only hint that he’s joking the small smirk stretching his lips. Seokjin covers his face in shame. “It’s always a relief to see that some people can embarrass themselves as much as me.”

Seokjin feels a warm hand on his forearm pulling it away from his face. He lets himself be pulled off the floor, Namjoon standing up with him as he helps him up.

“Hyung, cover your damn tiddies for Christ sake.”

“Shut up Taehyung.” Seokjin says, crossing his arms in front of his chest, feeling a faint blush dust his cheeks. “What are you even doing here?”. Namjoon, like a true gentleman, offers the blanket to him without a word.

“Dad told me mom told him Jimin told her you had a crush on your new-“ Taehyung doesn’t have the time to finish his sentence as Seokjin pounces on him, hands covering his mouth to shut him up, knowing very well where this story is leading. “Taehyung,” He says with an edge to his voice and a glint in his eyes, “-meet my neighbour, Kim Namjoon. He moved in a few weeks ago.” Realization crosses his brother’s features, and he looks apologetic for all of two second before he pushes the hands off his mouth. “So you might know who’s that delicious piece of man currently greasing up your knob?”

Namjoon looks a bit dumbfounded before he answers, uncertain. “Probably my locksmith? I wouldn’t use those exact words to describe his profession, though.” He shrugs.

“Would you happen to know his name? Current relationship status? Sexual orientation? Better yet, favourite colour? ” His younger brother says, hope blooming in his eyes.

“Huh.” Namjoon’s phone rings, saving him from the onslaught of questions. He checks who it is before answering, and a smile blooms on his face, his dimples hitting Seokjin straight in the guts.

“Hey! How's my baby?”

Seokjin’s heart stops and shatters at his feet; His baby.

He doesn’t hear the rest of the conversation, too busy spiralling down into self pity. Of course someone as attractive as Namjoon wouldn’t be single. Of course. He feels so stupid.

The phone call doesn’t last long, ending on a quick “see you in a few”, but it’s long enough for Seokjin to have sweared off love altogether and made a vow of celibacy, with very nice plans of moving to a desert island. He'll have so many cats.

“Soo, baby huh.” He says, barely containing the distaste in his voice. If Namjoon notices, he doesn’t show. He gives them both a shy smile, and Seokjin has had enough with this man. “Well, run along now, we wouldn’t want to hold you back too long, in case your baby gets impatient.”

Namjoon looks at him weirdly then, just catching on the tone of his voice. Nevertheless, he chuckles the awkwardness away before answering. “She’s kind of a diva I guess. And she always needs new stuff, quite the expensive girl that one.” Taehyung turns pitying eyes towards him.

Namjoon got himself a gold digger. He doesn’t even look like he has money.

“But she's the best ride there is.” Namjoon says, and Seokjin holds back a gag. T.M. goddamn. I. There’s a part of him that’s ready to cancel Namjoon for his apparent fuck boy personality. There’s also another part, one that is deeply buried inside of him, that gets a twisted sense of satisfaction from knowing that if that’s how Namjoon talks about the girl, she mustn’t be all that special to him. He’s a cop though, and an outspoken feminist, so he shuts that part up, ready himself for a nice lecture on respecting women and how to do it.

Taehyung beats him to it.

“That’s a very misogynist way to put it, mr. neighbour.”

“What?” Namjoon, says, looking confused. “How is it... misogynist to say I like to ride my bike?”

The word bike reverberate in the silence of the living room, Taehyung exchanging a look with Seokjin as the both of them realize the misunderstanding, leaving Namjoon looking nonplussed.

“Bike, as in motorcycle?” His brother asks.

Namjoon looks between the two of them, slowly putting the pieces together.

“Yes? What did you think I was talking about.... ah. Yeah, i guess that can be confusing.”

Seokjin’s relief is short lived; It only takes a few second for the meaning of it all to sink in; the sexy fucker is also a sexy biker, how is Seokjin supposed to get any sleep at night now?

The leather jacket in summer makes so much more sense.

Seokjin’s mouth feels dry for reasons he can very much explain. “Isn’t that a bit… dicey, though?” He doesn’t say for someone like you, but it hangs in the air, and Namjoon seems to hear it loud and clear.

He smirks like someone who’s used to this exact reaction.

“There’s two things I’ve never broken in this world; Music equipments and vehicles.”

Seokjin nods calmly to cover up the fact that his inside are a mess. Figures Hearts aren’t on that list.

“Alright, I need to go talk to my locksmith.” Taehyung’s eyes lights up again. “Thank you for letting me stay here.” He finishes, nodding in his direction, a shy smile on his face.

“Anytime.” Seokjin says faintly, still processing everything. “And I’m sorry for, you know, the whole falling asleep on you.” His blush must be covering him all over by now. He might never got back to his normal colour. He tries to laugh the embarrassment away, but all it does is make his crush look even more obvious.

Namjoon looks at him then, the cogs clearly turning in his head. Once he seems to finally have reached a conclusion, his expression twist into something different. Something that looks suspiciously... flirtatious?

“Don’t worry about it. Having a lap full of handsome has never been a problem for me.”

Let it be known Seokjin has rarely been rendered speechless. For a second he thinks he just hallucinated it, but then Namjoon unmistakably winks at him.

Seokjin’s mind goes blank. Where did the shy guy from before go?

“You know where to find me if you ever want a ride. I kind of owe you one.” He adds before leaving, closing the door behind himself.

Seokjin is too stunned to make a noise, so it’s Taehyung who breaks the silence.

“I aspire to have that level of game.”

Seokjin agrees.

Fin 1.1

Namjoon has already left to pick up his motorcycle from the auto shop, trusting Jungkook to lock up behind himself. After all, they’ve bonded over Namjoon’s difficulties with locks for the last few years, and can now be considered good friends.

He’s pretty much done, gathering his tools before leaving.

Somebody comes out of an apartment next door as he’s packing up. He doesn’t pay it any attention until the person clears their throat for a solid fifteen second. Turning around curiously, he catches sight of a particularly pretty man, probably around his age, locking up very loudly. He wouldn’t give it more attention if the young man wasn’t looking right at him with a weird smile. He’s locking the door with fervour, never breaking eye contact while he clearly struggles, and a particular hard twist even succeeds in making Jungkook wince.

When the inevitable happens and the key snaps under the pressure, the man lets out the fakest sound of despair Jungkook has ever heard, maintaining eye contact and looking like the cat that got the canary.

“Oh!~ What am I to do!~ I don’t know any locksmith...”

Jungkook has a feeling he should, perhaps, run.

He doesn’t.

Fin 1.2

#magicshopnet #bangtanarmynet #armysource #ficswithluv #bts fanfic #namjin #mxm #bangtanscenery

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likesomekindofcheese · 5 years ago

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The Knight of Hallow’s Eve (A Knight!Gwylim Lee Oneshot)

Pairing: Knight! Gwylim Lee x fem! Reader

Word Count: 6,000 (wahoo)

Get ready for some fluuuffff!

Warnings: A mention of sex feat. a creeper, witches, a bit of violence, mentions of violence, Halloween magic, a DND reference, and good ol’ fashioned Urban Fantasy.

Prompts: #10 - “Nope, I’m not scared. Not at all” and #45: “I hate the woods…especially at midnight on flippin’ Halloween! How did we get so lost?”

A/N: This is my oneshot for @forever-rogue‘s 2019 Halloween Challenge! I wanted to get a little more creative this time around. I hope it’s Halloweeny enough for all of your tastes. I hope you guys all enjoy it! (Also tagging @jimmypagesandbrianmayshair, here you go! Knight! Gwilym on the house!)

“I’ll take your dare; I’m heading to the woods,” you said.

Your darer, Carl, smirks with slight disappointment. Alcohol mixed with truth or dare on a Halloween’s night get together made him bold. His leering at you made the chocolates in your stomach flip over.

For your dare, you were given two choices-you had chosen heading to the woods over stripping for him. You’d take anything over that.

Your friend, Erin, runs over to get your arm.

“You can’t! You know that’s where that killer’s been lurking! You’ve seen the news!” she begs. Her black eyeliner is smudged with worried tears.

“I’ll be back in ten minutes. I won’t run into any killer. Set a timer.” You suggest.

You know what the alternative is and so does she.

Erin shoves her purple manicured hand into her black corset. From it, she retrieves a necklace with a simple, dark blue stone.

“Here, take this. For protection” she offers.

You accept it. You know she has always been obsessed with the magical, claiming to be a witch (“but…I’m a different witch…it’s complicated, Y/N!”) and you could accept any possible good luck to get through these next ten minutes. Kindness from her was always a blessing itself, superstition or not.

I can handle this you think.

Crickets chirruped quietly. The trees make the air clean along with the crispness of the breeze. You peek back behind you. You see the back-porch lights of Erin’s house and their faint chatter of what truth to give the next sucker in your group.

An owl swoops over your head. You turn around to look for it, but you only see a faint silhouette and hear its wings flutter away.

You turn your head back to the house. The porch lights are gone.

You take ten steps closer to the house. Besides, if you are still in the woods and can still see them, it still counts as being in the woods. Dare accomplished.

There is no house.

You keep walking, trying to convince yourself that you misjudged your steps. Another turn, and there it will be. Progressing slowly, the night is getting darker and the moon is bobbling in its slow line above.

Trees and darkness is all there is.

You tried to remember what the back of the house looked like. A sign. Anything. But your brain has blanked in panic. You keep walking, almost running, trying to see anything in the darkness.

Reaching down into the pocket of your jacket, you feel the necklace. It’s suddenly hot. Surprised, you take it out and to your shock, it’s glowing light blue. Squinting from the darkness, you see a tree a few feet from you has started glowing bright blue too.

Getting closer, it becomes more beautiful and surreal. It’s a tall willow tree with light blue leaves that seem to swirl as they rustle with the wind. Your eyes blink to make sure it’s real. You have never heard of glowing trees anywhere!

You let the amulet rest on your palm. Suddenly, it floats above your hand. You scream a little in surprise. It’s too heavy for the wind. You feel your head spinning.

A bright beam of light blue light, matching that of the leaves of the tree shoots forth until it meets the dark wood- making a large black hole.

“AAAAGGGGGHHHHHHHH!!!!!!”

Clunk!

A form falls through the hole and lands facedown into the leaf-ridden ground. The colors melt from light-blue to a musty red. Though it is night, there is enough light that one might think it was the early evening.

“Are you alright?” you ask, shell shocked.

“I…hope I am” he answers.

He starts to groan and get up. Two things strike you: first, not only is he incredibly tall with dark brown hair and the most astonishingly blue eyes you have ever seen, but even more so his clothes.

He is wearing a full plate of shining armor.

This is nothing like the plastic knight armor you see in costume shops. It thuds with heaviness and its silver sheen makes him bright amongst the redness. There is a bit of rust and dirt, here and there. But the edges and quality you know would make any cosplayer or costume designer drool.

How rich would someone have to be to buy a full plate of armor that good for only one night?

“Who is that?” The man pecks his head up. You step back a little. He’s a handsome man with high cheekbones, soft lips, and eyes the color of the sky.

He starts to pull his arms down to get up. “I…I’m alright, I think. But may I ask, where am I?”

You tell him the name of the city you live in.

He arches his eyebrows. “What kind of kingdom is that? Do you have a ruler?”

You tilt your head.

“No…uhm…we don’t. Look, are you a part of a live Dungeons and Dragons campaign?”

“I have no campaign; other than slaying monsters I’ve been sworn to slay and protecting the innocent. I made a vow to the king of my land after the dragon attack” he says.

He sounds genuine.

“Well…wherever you are, you must be far from home.”

“As a knight, I must go where I am called to. You see, the good witches gave me this…” he begins.

From beneath the breastplate of his armor, he reveals an amulet identical to yours. You stop breathing until you must take in a sharp inhale.

“The good witches of my kingdom tell me that if help is truly needed, then the amulet will lead me there. I am on a quest to fight the black rider. I have asked the amulet where the black rider is-what I must do, and if someone is in need or in danger. And it glowed to this tree…and now I am here.” He confesses. He straightens his back in a bit of pride.

“Well, uh…let’s make this simple. You see…this stuff isn’t normal where I’m from but, I could use some help. My name is Y/N. Y/N L/N.” you inform.

“I am Sir Gwilym of the Lee house, my lady.” He replies, with a short bow. He grins and stands erect as if saying he won a championship.

“I…I guess you could say I’m not…not a real lady” you stutter, gathering what knowledge you gained from Fantasy books and period dramas. Anything to help him.

“I’m just a humble peasant, according to your world.” You add, turning pink.

“Yet every woman, peasant or none, is a lady and deserves protection when needed. And if no one else will protect and assist them, then I must, my lady.” He responds with a shrug.

Smiling toothily, you remind him “I have a name, it’s Y/N.”

“Lady Y/N then!” he finishes raising his arms a little.

The wind picks up speed a little and it feels like a bony finger brushing your necks. Gwil’s armor shivers a little, despite its thickness.

“Lady Y/N, I have been riding and searching for two days. I haven’t rest and ate only grass. Do you know of shelter?” he questions. The dark circles under his eyes and slight weakness in his steps are more obvious.

“Yes. There’s a house somewhere around here…I just have trouble remembering where. I had to go out here and I got lost.” You recall. You start clutching and fiddling with the amulet in your pocket.

“May I accompany you? For your safety?” he asks.

“Sure.”

He takes a branch from the tree full of red and orange leaves. Gwilym notices how your jaw drops a little at the sight of them.

“Trees like these may light our way. They’ve aided me many a time” he explains.

“Ours don’t glow here. They bloom green when it’s warm. And some have flowers. Normal stuff” you explain.

“Ah! That is its own set of magic.”

You walk together for a bit. He lumbers across and you must scurry to keep his pace. His armor clanks a little mixing with the crunch of leaves beneath your feet. Walking alone in the dark with a knight as kind (and handsome, you confess silently) as Gwilym you feel your heart pick up the pace. You distract yourself by looking around for a path or sign of the house. There’s still nothing.

“I hate the woods…especially at midnight, on flippin’ Halloween! How did we get so lost?” you whine.

“We could find the tree and turn around” Gwilym suggests. He waves the branch in the other direction.

But when you try that strategy, the tree is nowhere to be seen. You begin wandering together hoping for any sign of human life. After a few minutes in silence, curiosity strikes you.

“Sir Gwilym, uhm…why have you been traveling in the woods?” you ask.

Gwilym grits his teeth. “There is a foe I have sworn to defeat. A foe that has been preying on the children and maidens of my kingdom and some say of neighboring ones. He has been spotted in these very woods. I must find him and bring him to justice” he says.

You nod. You admire his profile from the glow of the magic leaves.

“That’s very brave of you.” You laud. You can smell the cold air in your throat.

“Especially…since I have a little niece” he sighed. His face tightened. Did knights normally speak of their loved ones? Were they permitted?

“She is so dear to me. If anything were to happen to her, I would never…” he stopped himself.

He grew pale with fear of what could happen. You give him a hopeful smile, touching his arm feels too bold.

“You’ll find your foe.” You assure to him, looking up into his eyes, softly.

“Your niece will be …”

You are interrupted by a horse whinny and the clutter of hooves.

“Looks like you’re right” Gwilym stammers.

Before you stands a huge knight on a white Clydesdale horse, both in full black armor with faint red stains. Blood and dirt reek from them.

You freeze, unsure what to do. Gwilym leaps in front of you, blocking you, and unleashes a gleaming sword from his hilt. But the Knight’s shield, twice the size of your body, smacks him across the jaw and knocks him to the ground. Gwylim’s sword falls to the side with a clatter.

“Gwilym!” you cry impulsively.

The knight turns his head and looks at you. He lifts his visor to reveal big, yellow eyes like that of a piranha. You rush and grab the sword, aiming the hilt at him and circling around Gwilym.

The knight hops off the horse and approaches you, sword in hand aimed at your heart.

“Be scared, little girl” he booms.

“Nope. I’m not scared. Not at all” you half-lie. Anything to stop your shaking grip.

You charge and stab him in the breast quickly. His frightened horse dashes away. The black rider falls to the grass. Black leaves replace his plates of armor until they drift away into eternity.

You run over and lend Gwilym your hand to help him up. He looks up at you in amazement.

In the distance, you hear your friends calling out your name. You can make out the distant lights of flashlights.

Gwilym breaks the silence saying, “Lady Y/N…thank you.”

He kisses your hand devotedly. His lips were so soft that it was not stopping your adrenaline from the fight.

He asks for the sword and you hand it to him. Gwyilm kneels on one knee. His two large hands holding onto the hilt while the sword digs lightly into the ground. He lowers his head.

“I am ever in your debt…though I am not sure yet how I may return home. But I swear, even after I return, you are ever my lady and should you need me, I will always be in your service” he promises.

39 notes · View notes

mrcoltkaneko · 5 years ago

Text

the debts of the gods are yours to keep (RoD)

a/n: I’m... really fucking proud of this one. I started this as a wild inspiration behind Colt’s backstory, writing at full-speed, and then got *major* writer’s block. I left the doc hanging on my desktop for a while, and I don’t know. I got major inspiration today and finished it. Fair warning, it’s not written in Choices-style, and reads more like snapshots throughout his life but I hope I did my best bb justice. Maybe I’ll write some actual romance, but for now, character study is where I live. CC is always welcome, and I hope you enjoy :)

pairings: Colt-centric, but some light Colt x MC + Logan x MC with Colt/Mona and Colt/Kaneko interactions

summary: Colt can’t tell when he stopped caring about his father. (Somewhere, deep in his heart, he knows that’s not true.)

rating: ehhhhh PG-13 for swearing but honest to god I had a sailor’s mouth when I was like 10 so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

length: 4612 words

The summer before his seventeenth birthday, Colt found his first love.

A 1989 Yamaha FZR-1000 – one of the first four-stroke sportbikes. He’d bartered for it at the local motor shop, offering $2000 and to fix up cars for an entire summer.

“You got your motorcycle license?”

“No.”

The old man narrowed his eyes. “You’ve ever been on one of these before?”

“Once.”

He harrumphed. “No deal.”

“You’re serious?”

“You seriously looking to get arrested, kid?”

“You can’t get arrested unless you get caught, Dale.”

For a second, the old man looked as if he was going to explode of anger. Then, he began to guffaw, the corners of his eyes crinkling like shiny little candy wrappers. “Fine. Entire summer. I expect you to be here, every day, you hear me? And I give you the bike after.”

“That wasn’t the deal –“

“That’s the deal I’m offering. Like I said, you can’t take this girl anywhere until you’re legal to drive it. Take it or leave it.”

Colt crossed his arms. “Fine.”

It wasn’t his ideal summer, but working at Dale’s shop beat working for his own father. He’d put on rock music from the 70’s and whistle along. He had regular customers coming in, charmed by his good nature and fair prices. Instead of throwing Colt onto his ass whenever he did something wrong, he’d patiently take the tool from his hand, lie back on the creeper, and would show him how to do it properly. It’d been a nice few weeks, one without trouble or disappointment or boredom.

“Where were you today?” It was the first thing his father said to him when Colt got back to the auto shop. He was sitting in the back room, eating a cup of yogurt. “I thought you were going to work for me over the summer.”

Colt opened up the fridge and pushed the milk aside. He snorted. “And do what – draw up price estimates for people and do paperwork? No thanks.”

“Colt, you made a promise, and I intend that you keep it –“

“Yeah, well, I don’t remember making that promise. Sounds like you and mom decided what would be best for me. As always.” He reached for the back and pulled out a Coke.

“And your driving lessons?”

He took a sip of his drink. “I passed.”

“You took the test already?” Colt tried to figure out if his father sounded upset. He decided that he didn’t.

“Yeah. Guess those driving lessons you gave me really paid off, huh?” Every year, since he turned fourteen, his father had promised him to take him out driving. He’d taken him out twice. Somewhere along those years, Colt decided that he didn’t care much about driving anymore. His father didn’t let him touch the cars, anyways, so what was the use?

“And I told you, I’m busy with the business here and –“

“Business? Yeah, keep on acting like I don’t know what’s going on here. You think I don’t know that you jack cars and sell them off to rich fucks with money to spare? You honestly think that you could keep this from me forever? You think you can just fix this by spending the bare minimum of time with me? Well you know what I say to that? Fuck. You.”

A tense pause blanketed the room. His father’s face darkened.

“Get out.”

It was strange, hearing those words coming from his father. His face was red and enraged, and Colt turned around to leave. “Yeah, I was about to leave anyways. Don’t bother calling mom to tell her what happened.” The door to the office slammed. He spun around on his heels, ready to stomp out, but someone was standing in the doorway.

“Well, he-llo, Mr. PMS.” Mona stood by, leaning against the doorframe. He’d met her once or twice. She’d appeared one day in the shop, a couple summers ago, her face haunted with something wicked. It was the first time he saw her. And it was the last time he saw that expression on her face again.

“Fuck off, Mona.” He pushed past her.

“God, I’m joking. Ass.”

“Yeah, well for it to be a joke, it had to be funny.”

“Seriously, kid? Where the hell is your sense of humor?” Mona rolled her eyes. “Come on. I’m done for the day. I’ll grab a couple beers and we’ll drink in the courtyard. Tell me about all your hormonal, teenage problems you’re dealing with.” She walked alongside him, grinning.

The “courtyard” was a makeshift junkyard for the auto shop. Whatever grass left planted was yellowed and rough from the sun beating down on the space. A decrepit chain-link fence encircled the area, rusted from years of weather.

“Christ, I don’t think I could ever get used to the summers here.” Mona fanned herself, taking a swig of her Budweiser.

Colt shrugged, sipping at his own drink. “Where are you from?”

“The Bronx. New Yohh-wk,” she said, exaggerating an accent. “Left when I was a little bit older than you are now. What are you, like fifteen?”

He sat up straighter and puffed out his chest. “Almost seventeen.”

“So around the same then. Been here ever since.” She finished her can and tossed it into a pile of junk.

“Why do you work for him?”

Mona paused. “What do you mean why?”

“I mean, what do you see in him? He’s a goddamn asshole.”

“That’s not how things work around here, kiddo.”

“You mean in the crime world.”

Mona chuckled. “Sure, if that’s what you want to call it.”

“So tell me how it works then. Because every time I walk into this goddamn shop my dad’s on my ass about something different. I know all of you think I’ve got it easy being the boss’s son and all, but he’s never treated me more than just some punk kid ready to get in the way.”

She stared at him, taking a long sip from her can. “Heard you bought a bike from Dale.”

“Yeah. And?”

“What, the old geezer strike you a deal or something?”

“Two-thousand.” Colt paused, gauging Mona’s reaction. “And I’m working at his shop for the summer.”

“Where’s the bike?”

“He says I’ve got to work it off first. What does this have to with anything?”

“Same thing.” She downed her beer and threw the can across the way again. “You’ve gotta pay before you get your bike. Except in my case, your father here gave me my gift first.”

“What was it?”

Mona paused, and looked over at him. He thought he saw that expression again, flitting across her eyes. “My freedom.”

Before Colt could answer, Toby swung open the back door, covered head to toe in car grease.

“Hey! No fair! You guys are drinking without me?” He grabbed a beer from the 24-pack and cracked it open. Mona snatched it from him.

“Yeah, well maybe you should have thought about how fair it was to drink all of my Red Bulls right before my job last week.”

“What? I didn’t know they were yours!” “What’s going on out here?” Ximena called, sticking her head out the door.

“Nothing, aside from the fact that Toby thinks he can just constantly take shit from me –“

“I paid you back!”

“Yeah, if you count adding dumb mods to my car repaying me. “

“It’s a cooler! Now you don’t have to store your Red Bulls in the communal fridge!”

In the midst of the commotion, Colt slipped out. The bus ride home was packed, the idle chatter of different languages humming underneath his thoughts. He watched the auto shop fade away into the distance, like a balloon, floating high into the sky.

****

He doesn’t understand her. Or him, for that matter. They walked around the sideshow, looking at each other with googly eyes and at him with daggers, like he’d done something to ruin their lives.

As if. He’d met them like, what, an hour ago? And soon after that, Dale had gently told him that the smirking kid in the t-shirt was his replacement. Logan, no last name. He snorted at that.

“Him? He couldn’t outdrive the girl he’s pulling around.”

Dale shook his head. “Everyone’s saying he’s the new hotshot driver that Kaneko’s been training. Came around a year ago, I s’pose. Don’t know anything else ‘bout him. Anyways, how’s school on the East Coast?”

Before Colt could answer, shouts filled the air. He rode his way around the crowd, finding the center of the commotion. Salazar. The man towered over Logan, an assured smirk plastered onto his face. Logan’s girl stood by, equal parts indignant and terrified at the events unfolding in front of her.

“Seems your boyfriend’s looking to add insult to injury.”

The girl whipped her head around scowling at his comment. “Whoever you are, this is none of your business.” She turned back around, watching as Logan popped the hood off of the…

Aylesbury. How many times had he seen his father drive off in that car, the deep green hunk of metal rumbling down the street? And how many times had his father slapped his hand away for even touching the side mirror?

And here the boy was, keys dangling from his back pocket as he fiddled around with the engine. He wasn’t going to. He couldn’t – not if Colt could help it.

“That car… he’s wagering it on the race?”

“I think it’s totally crazy… but yeah.”

“Then it just became my business.” He could feel the girl’s eyes on his back as he negotiated his way into the race. His heart pounded. Heat radiated from the inside of his helmet. There was no turning back now. This was his race to win.

****

“You could have gotten killed.”

Colt scoffed and slumped into the plastic seat by the office door, taking in his surroundings. His father paced the space behind his desk. Papers were strewn everywhere – on the ground, on the desk, and tacked up on the walls. By the furthest corner was a small pile of trash, mostly filled by yogurt cups and takeout containers, overfilling the wastepaper basket.

“Looks like you’re doing real well here.” His father glared at him. Colt groaned. “Ohhh, I see. We’re going to pretend to care for each other now. Well, guess what? In all my generosity, I won your fucking car back for you. Not him.”

“You’re careless. You don’t think. And you expect me to thank you?”

“No. I expect that we’re even now.”

His father stopped pacing. “You don’t understand.”

“Then help me understand! You’ve shut me out of this life – your life – for so long. And then you bring in some pretty boy to do your bidding, praise him for almost wrecking your car –“

“Listen here, boy, do not pretend to understand my relationship with them.” He pointed out the door, lowering his voice an octave. “I’ve told you time and time again that you’re not going to get involved with this crew.”

“Why not? You scared, Pop? Terrified that your own son will take the throne?”

“No. Because you’re weak.”

The words cut, like crawling naked on fine shards of glass. But he balled his hands into fists and bit his lip. “You need me. I’m staying. Whether you like it or not.”

After a long pause, his father finally answered. “Fine. But you’re working the desk. No questions.” And with that, he pushed open the door, ready to tell everyone the news.

Colt un-balled his fists. There, on his palm, were eight little crescent indents filled with blood.

****

“Where is he?”

The voice called out, above him somewhere, the words hanging in between the clinks of metal and occasional drilling. It half scared him, having gotten used to the loud humming of the shop. The noise was calming; almost white noise, with no expectation of conversation or small talk. It was why he hated the front desk. The crackheads, reeking of old sweat and smoke, trying to barter their way out of paying for the work on their jalopies. The lost LA moms, waiting for their SUVs, their sparkly designer sunglasses parked on top of their heads. Every few seconds, they’d touch them, as if he was going to snatch them and run.

Colt slid out from under the car. “What?” He snapped.

She looked mildly surprised to see him. “Oh. I thought you were only supposed to work the desk.”

“Toby left for some sideshow in Arcadia. Are we done here?”

“Logan. Do you know where he is?”

Colt snorted. “No.” He slid back to the undercarriage, hoping she’d take the hint.

Instead, she crouched down. “Come on, I know you’re here all day, you probably saw him leave.”

He slid out and threw his gloves onto the ground. He walked into the back room. She followed, right on his heels. “If you’re half as smart as I think you are, you should probably stay away from him.”

“I – What did he even do to you?” She crossed her arms, her expression darkening. “Or me, for that matter?”

“It only takes an idiot to see that you don’t fit in here.”

“Oh, so, what, this is middle school now? You’ve got a clique, and I’m not allowed because I’m not cool enough?” She narrowed her eyes. “You don’t even know me!” Her eyes were fiery now, defiant. It gave him a jump in his stomach. His fingers tingled.

“I might not know you, but I know your type.”

“Try me.”

“Let me guess, 4.0 GPA, Daddy’s Princess, and broke curfew once because you stayed late at the library? You’re the teacher’s pet, so everyone pretty much hates you, and let’s see – a virgin?”

He could see her steaming at the last comment, and he laughed. “Did I really get all of that right?” He shook his head. “I’m good, but I’m never that good.”

“You’re a coward.”

“What?”

She stepped forward, closing the distance between them. Her eyes were all fire, the flames licking up whatever oxygen was left in the room. “You’re a coward. You think you’ll never measure up to anyone; not Logan, not your dad, not a single person out there. So you stopped trying a long time ago because you think that disappointing anyone, especially yourself, is worse than the chance at succeeding – and guess what? You’re right. You’ll never succeed. Because as soon as you get that slightest taste at victory, you get an ego, you think you’re invincible – and you’ll fall, right back down with all of us that work the daily grind.”

She was close now, her eyes barely an inch away from his nose. This is the part where you kiss her, his mind shouted, but he silenced the thought as soon as it blared out. A ridiculous suggestion, Colt thought, pampered by stupid movies and TV shows. He opened his mouth, ready to retort, but someone called out her name.

“Logan!” Her voice rose an octave, peppered with excitement.

Colt shoved his hands into his pockets as she floated away from him. He pretended to avert his eyes from them, sneaking glances at them from his periphery.

There was something wrong with this picture. He was going to find out what.

****

Who knew she was so dangerous? Even more dangerous than his own father. After all, they only targeted the wealthy, fingers well-oiled and fat off their own gluttony. Her father? As much as the cop thought he was keeping the streets clean, he picked up good, honest people in some dire times as much as he did the trigger-happy gunslingers, the greedy dope sellers. He’d seen the stories in the papers. Colt knew some of them, the ones that were swept away behind bars. Always labeled with their race, their age, their poison of choice. Black, 28, robbery. White, 35, aggravated assault.

In the back of his mind, Colt wondered when he’d see his father in those listings. His habits and idiosyncrasies erased, his identity reduced to the corporeal.

She doesn’t know what a deadly game this is. For him, for his father, for Mona, for Toby, for Ximena. For Logan. For her. His father’s voice boomed in his head. The cops don’t owe you. You owe the cops.

****

“I know how you feel.”

“Huh?”

“My mom was sick.”

“It’s different.”

“It’s not different. We’d had a fight the night before, about something stupid, like cleaning up my stuff or not finishing my homework or something. I stormed out the morning after without saying goodbye. And… and – she collapsed while at was school. And when I found out, I thought it was my fault that she was there, that I somehow willed her to get sick. So every night, I’d pray to something out there, a God, or maybe a star, that if she lived, I’d promise to be the best daughter ever.”

“And here you are.”

“She died a month later.”

“And the promise wasn’t kept.”

“My point is, it’s not too late for you. He’s in there. He cares about you.”

She reached out her hand. Colt gently took it. Her palms were soft, her knuckles smooth.

If the cop’s daughter was the end of him, so be it.

****

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.” Mona groaned.

She sounded more annoyed than worried, which relieved Colt. If he could show her how airtight the plan was, she’d agree.

“Not a big deal for me,” Salazar grunted.

“Your ex-wife’s kid doesn’t count.” Mona rolled her eyes and Salazar deflated, grumpy that she’d revealed his secret. “Why are we listening to him, anyways?” She leaned on the desk, towering over Kaneko, as if she could pull the answer from the man’s mouth herself.

“I’m not a kid anymore – “

“We’re talking about kidnapping. A fucking member of The Brotherhood.”

“About 3800 pounds lighter than stealing a car.”

She gave Colt a dirty look. “This isn’t the time for one of your wisecracks. Boss, you do realize that this is a dumb plan, right? We kidnap the guy, hold him for ransom, and then what? Have the fucking Brotherhood come after our necks with chainsaws?”

“Yeah, what’s in it for me, huh? Sounds like this is a whole lotta trouble for a couple thousand bucks.”

Everyone began to argue, but Kaneko held up a hand, shutting the three up. He cleared his throat. “Have you ever heard the story of The Hare and The Lion?”

Colt furrowed his brow. Mona rolled her eyes. “It’s official, the old man’s lost it.” “So I take it you haven’t.”

Salazar slammed his hand on the desk. “You better be going somewhere with this.” Kaneko gave him an imperceptible nod, barely flinching at the noise.

“Once upon a time, a lion ruled the jungle. The lion was very cruel, and every day, he demanded that an animal from the jungle be delivered to him, so he could devour it.

“One day, the hare was picked for the lion’s daily meal. Of course, the poor hare didn’t want to be eaten at all. So the hare, full of wit, presented himself to the lion and told the beast that on the way, he’d met another lion that claimed to be the King of the Jungle.

“The lion, very angry that another animal dare take his title from him, asked the hare where this other lion was. The hare led him to a well, claiming the lion was down there waiting for him.

“The lion looked down and roared, intending to scare the other animal into subservience. But of course, the lion was not very smart and mistook his reflection as another lion calling back at him. Furious with this imposter, he jumped into the well to attack the lion, and he drowned. And the hare ran off to tell the other animals of the jungle, free at last.”

Kaneko knitted his fingers together and placed them on the desk. “Well? What do you think?”

Mona glared. “I think if you’re not going to tell me what this goddamn nonsense means, I’m out.” Salazar nodded, in rare agreement with the other.

“What I’m saying is that we pretend to scratch their backs.” Colt pulled up the picture of the contact. “We tell them that there’s another enemy, a traitor in their ranks. We kidnap him, and offer him up to the fuckers.”

Mona widened her eyes, and smirked. “We give them their own fake lion.”

“They’ll be so wrapped up in dealing with him that they won’t see us coming. We’ll get them out of our way, for good. We’ll be arranging the pick-up…” He pulled up the picture of the stadium on his phone and showed it to Mona and Salazar. “…Here. The shithead’s a huge fan of the Badgers. It’s why we need you, Sal.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Colt caught a glimpse of his father smile. The first, he thought, in seven years.

“And what about the others? Toby, Ximena, the girl… Logan?” Colt knew why she asked. After all, he’d been in on it up until this point. Up until he got tangled in her lips and her hair and that sunshine smile and… Colt swallowed. He shook the thought of her from his mind.

A slow pause filled the air. Finally, Kaneko answered. “He won’t understand. He’s weak with love. He won’t risk putting her in danger.”

No, he wouldn’t.

****

Pop… please… you can’t leave me.

Go, Colt. Go, and don’t look back.

**** He’d been on the cusp of twelve years – almost twelve revolutions around the sun, as his father liked to say. He’d grown a half-a-foot in the past summer, his legs long and spindly, like a baby doe. Sometimes he spent his time playing driveway basketball with the neighborhood kids – well, only if they’d let him. Most of the time, he sat on the curb, steaming as the kids called him “half-breed” and “slant-eyes” all while participating in a game of keep-away, six little demons against himself. So he’d sit on his front stoop and adjust the laces on his Air Force 1’s, trying to make room for his ever-growing feet. Occasionally he’d walk to the mini-mart and pilfer candy from the aisles. Last time though, the shop owner caught him pocketing a peppermint, and threatened to call his parents. Colt didn’t care. His parents never listened to him much these days. His mother would cry while his father would drive off, almost always with a knapsack and silent ruffle of Colt’s head. Moonlight would bounce off the shining silver rims of the car and Colt would watch until it was a tiny speck of green, floating on the edge of the horizon, the cries of the engine lasting far longer than his young eyes could see.

But his father always came back. Always.

Sometimes with a gift – a shiny new Hot Wheels that mirrored his father’s latest ride and half-wilted supermarket flowers for his mother. A sorry gift from a sorry man, Colt thought now, but at the time, it was the most romantic gesture he’d ever seen. The carnations would sit in a plastic thermos filled to the brim with lukewarm water, and he’d count the days down. By the time all the petals gathered around the makeshift vase, there would be another incident.

It’d been a good streak this time around. No incidents. The petals on the last bunch of flowers had long been swept up, leaving the shriveled stems in the vase like long, fragile pieces of straw. Colt hoped this time it’d be different, with his birthday in a week, and the arid LA heat withering to make room for cooler breezes. He imagined he’d ask for new shoes. He’d blow out number candles from a chocolate cake.

And different was what he’d got. Three days before his twelfth birthday, Colt jolted awake from the familiar sound of the engine. The sky was dark gray, hinting at the sun’s imminent arrival. He’s leaving, Colt thought. Without saying goodbye. Pulling the covers off his bed, he tiptoed down the stairs and burst through the door.

“Hey!” His shout barely rose over the engine’s hum. “Wait!”

His father peered over from the driver’s seat window. He sighed and turned off the engine. “Colt, you should be asleep.”

“I want to go with you,” Colt replied breathlessly. “Please.”

Colt looked for a hint of give in his father’s face. There wasn’t any. His face remained stoic, like always. “All right. Hop on up.”

Colt stepped into the car, the fuzzy car mat tickling the soles of his feet. His father turned the keys in the ignition and backed out of the driveway. Colt looked out his window, watching his little house until it turned into a speck of dust. He turned back around, looking over at his father.

“Where are we going?”

There was a pause. “Where do you want to go?”

Colt thought for a second. “In-N-Out.” His father laughed.

Soon, Colt was dangling his legs off the cliff, chowing down on a Double-Double Cheeseburger and dipping his French fries into a strawberry shake. He looked down as he ate, watching the waves slurp up the side of the precipice. Further into the horizon, the water rocked, reflecting rivulets of the orange sky in between the blue. There they sat, completely silent. He remembered the times when his father would push him off the cliff, rambling about courage and honor and bravery in the face of danger. And he’d fall, fall, fall, his father’s words lost in between the roaring folds of water.

“Colt.”

“MMmreah?” He mumbled, mouth full of burger.

“When – when I was your age, my father didn’t give me a choice.” His voice cracked, and his usually serious tone was tinged with a hint of sadness.

Colt furrowed his eyebrows. He’d never heard his father stutter, and it made him nervous. “Whaddya mean, Pop?”

“He told me that in this country, we would never be seen as equals. So we had to take the power for ourselves. That to make a name for yourself, you had to yell it louder than anyone else.”

Colt thought of the kids down the block, who called him names and didn’t let him play basketball.

“Your grandfather was a great man. I strive to be as fearless as he was. But I’ve done some things in my life that I’m ashamed of.”

All he could think of was the kid’s face, bloodied and bruised. He’d called him a “dirty half-breed bastard”. Colt had pummeled the kid’s pudgy face, fat from a steady diet of Twinkies and Butterfingers he’d seen him munching. He could recall how soft his face was against his own knuckles. He remembered how he didn’t feel any pain, not for a while, not until two hands wrestled him off of the boy. He’d ran back to his stoop and cried, his right knuckles stained blood-red.

“You’ll be better off this way. I’m a better man than your grandfather was, and I know you’ll be a better one than me.”

The brightening sky cast a golden halo on his father’s face, and the water sparkled with the brilliance of a thousand diamonds.

“Someday, you will thank me.”

His father rose and walked back to the car, and beckoned for Colt to get up. Grabbing the bag of food, he followed, and his father accelerated away from the cliff. Colt gazed at the fiery ocean, the distant sounds of the Pacific lulling him back to sleep.

****

#playchoices #playchoices fanfic #colt kaneko #colt x mc #choices fanfiction #ride or die

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