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da-rulah · 11 months ago

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The Mayor's Daughter - Mary Goore x f!Reader [Part 2]

Summary: Mary has something of yours from your last encounter. You have something of his. In a standoff, Mary suggests you meet to make the trade off, so you can pay your ransom.

Little does he know, you have a secret weapon up your sleeve... or rather, his sleeve...

Rating: Explicit, 18+

Word Count: 9k

Warnings: Teasing, lingerie, nipple play, choking, biting, cunnilingus, oral sex (f receiving), being gagged, squirting, manhandling, contraception mentioned but raw p in v sex still, angst, hurt

ALSO AVAILABLE ON AO3

A/N: SO listen, this was supposed to be a silly little series of smut one shots with Mary that was low priority and something to do between other fics. Then... I started plotting. And now, the plot is plotted. So here you go, heathens - more Mary filth, except now we got storyline... Huge thank you to @her-satanic-wiles & @angellayercake again for beta reading!

Oh, and I now have a ko-fi if you fancy leaving me a little tip, but no pressure. Love ya!

You stared at your phone, the unread notification on your screen lighting up with each time you hit the side button. You hadn’t opened the message, only able to see the preview but it was enough.

After two weeks of radio silence from Mary Goore, he’d finally text you late this afternoon.

R u willing 2 pay ur ransom yet doll?

You’d maybe stared at it for a few minutes, thinking of ways you might be able to sneak Mary in, or you could sneak out yourself. You knew your parents were home this evening; they’d invited your father’s deputy and his wife for dinner. You were not invited.

“Just business, darling,” your father had told you. “Not for children.”

That had pissed you off beyond belief. You weren’t a fucking child anymore; hadn’t been for a long time. But that’s daddy for you... Treating you like the same pigtailed little girl in the photo frame on your dresser, sat on her father’s shoulders at a Fourth of July parade. She looked happy, innocent.

But that was well over a decade ago.

And so, still simmering with a hint of anger and a flame stoked in your rebellious little soul, you decided you were indeed ready to pay your ransom.

You were ready for round two with Mary fucking Goore.

I have what you need. 8:30pm. I’ll leave my window open. Be quiet, daddy’s downstairs. No funny business, Goore. I’ll have my secret weapon ready if you try anything stupid.

A few minutes went by, when the ‘sent’ turned to ‘read 5:43pm’, and the three little dots popped up on his side.

Wouldn’t dream of it. C u l8r doll.

You smirked at your screen, a thrill rushing through you at the thought of another night with Mary Goore...

Mary sat in his old black van across the street from your house, staring at the only light that was on upstairs. He’d been here early, around 8pm, and seen a couple pull up in a fancy car through the ornate gates that shut your house off from the rest of the street. Your father had greeted them with a firm handshake and a cheek kiss at the porch. Some kind of work thing, he assumed, scoffing at the nature of the situation he found himself in.

Climbing through your window in the darkness of night to fool around with the Mayor’s daughter while he conducted a formal business meal downstairs. How cliché...

As he’d watched, he bit at his thumb nail, plotting his route to get to the window. He could climb up the trellis panels along the edge of your garage, shuffle his way along the guttering and climb in that way... First, he’d have to climb over the tall iron railings without impaling himself on the spikes around the back of the house and away from the security cameras along the porch.

He checked the clock on his dashboard, hissing a quick ‘fuck’ realising he was out of time; it was 8:27pm. It was now or never.

Mary scrambled his way over the fence of the back yard, carefully dodging the view of cameras and the French doors that he could see your father through, sat at the dining table with his guests. Miraculously, he hadn’t impaled himself on the railings, though he did manage to snag his already ripped jeans, but that was no real loss to him.

Climbing up the trellis should have been easier than it was, but he hadn’t accounted for the thorns on the roses that were growing up them. He quickly learned his lesson after blindly grabbing and piercing his palm in multiple places, almost stumbling and falling a few feet off the ground.

But eventually, Mary made it up on the garage, and shuffled his way along the guttering to your open window. With a less than graceful forward roll and a clatter of trinkets falling to the ground from the desk he’d knocked them from beside the window, Mary was in.

“Could’a told me I’d be pulling some Top Gun shit to get up here, doll...” he grumbled, dusting himself off and sucking at the puncture wounds on his palm as he turned around to find...

An empty room.

“Doll?” he asked, looking around to see if he’d missed you, but you were nowhere to be found. Mary’s shoulders slumped, huffing in annoyance as he found himself in a room that frankly was the exact opposite of his personal taste.

Patterned wallpaper from decades long since passed coated your walls, covered in pretty pink peonies. Pretty pink and white bedding draped over a large bed in the middle of the room, frills and lace neatly assembled with a well-kept collection of stuffed animals and scatter cushions against the headboard. Sparkly trinkets and polished ornaments sat on most surfaces he could see with the naked eye, clearly collected over the course of your childhood.

It looked like a kid’s bedroom... A little princess’ dream room. Not the bedroom of a young woman of your age, and certainly not the kind to fuck a guy like him in the stall of the men’s bathroom at a dive bar.

In your absence, Mary took the time to look closely at some of the trinkets lining your dresser; a necklace rack with pretty little pendants hanging neatly in different metals; a little gold tray filled with pretty stones and crystals you’d collected; a tiny little ornament of a pink kitten; a white half-burned candle that smelled faintly of roses.

You really were the cliché Mary thought you were, huh? Mary was little more than a touch of excitement and rebellion in an otherwise pristine little life – he could live with that, he supposed. He too had felt a thrill in claiming you as his two weeks ago in that bar, and he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about doing it again ever since.

As Mary looked around your room, flicking at the necklaces, inspecting the trinkets, he came across the photo frame of tiny little you. He picked it up, smiling to himself at the goofy grin on the little girl’s face, the pigtails tied up with pretty red ribbons that matches the dungarees she wore. He shook his head with a little laugh, noting the Mayor in the photo and how much younger he looked. Office had aged him, that was for sure.

How he’d come to find himself in this predicament, he had no idea. How ironic that the daughter of the Mayor to the very town that loathed him had become his booty call.

Well, you would be if he could fucking find you.

Putting the photo frame back in its place, Mary looked around one more time, noting there were two doors in the room. He figured he’d try his luck – if he were quiet enough, he wouldn’t be caught. Your parents had no reason to be upstairs with guests over, and maybe you were in a second living room or something? This house was definitely big enough to have two.

Mary crept over to the door closest to him, reaching for the handle. He’d just grasped it in his palm, when he heard a click behind him.

“I wouldn’t do that, if I were you,” your pretty little voice warned, more stern than he’d heard it before. Mary froze, a smirk playing on his lips.

“I think you just lost, doll...” he teased, standing up straighter yet still facing the door.

“Lost what, Goore?” you enquired, leaning up against the doorframe of the bathroom you’d just been in, hiding from him as you applied the final touches to your make up. Mary began to turn towards the sound of your voice, then.

“Your little game of hide and see-” He stopped in his tracks, the last syllable getting caught in his throat as his eyes fell on you.

There you were, this pristine little daddy’s girl, leaning up against the doorframe with cherry red lips so ridiculously enticing, scantily clad in pretty red lace. The matching set you’d prepared came with a garter belt, only attached to strips of elastic around your upper thigh. The straps of the bralette contoured the curve of your breasts, similar straps of elastic sitting high on your hips. The lace only covered what it needed to, the straps themselves doing most of the enticing.

But what really got him, was the leather jacket you wore over the top of it, covered in spikes, badges, patches and chains.

His leather jacket.

You smirked at Mary’s silence, watching his eyes drink you in as you showed off more than he’d got to see that night at the bar... This wasn’t rushed, this wasn’t on a whim. This had been planned, specifically to scramble his brain the second he saw you. And if the way he readjusted his jeans and his jaw dragged across the floor was anything to go by, you’d succeeded.

Mary scraped his jaw back from the floor, collecting himself and settling his gaze on your eyes, feigning a look of deviance and irritation.

“So, this is your secret weapon, huh?” he asked, gesturing towards your outfit – or lack thereof. “I told you I wanted that back,” he said, his voice deep and vaguely threatening.

“I propose a trade. Do you have them?” you asked, holding your open hand out towards him.

Mary patted at his chest as if looking for something, hands travelling down to his front pockets of his jeans, then to his back, where he let out an “ah-ha!” and pulled the familiar white lace of your panties from your last encounter from one of the pockets. “You’ll see they’re completely unharmed...” he dangled them out towards you.

“Put them on the bed and step away...” you warned, keeping up the facade of a ransom exchange just a little longer. Mary did as you asked, slowly stepping towards the end of your bed and gently laying your panties on the edge, before holding his hands up in surrender and stepping back a few paces.

You walked to the bed, picking them up and inspecting them for any damage at all. Mary watched you from afar, amused and shoving his hands into his pockets. With a satisfied hum, you balled the panties up and threw them back down onto the end of your bed, turning on your heels to look at him.

“See, doll? Completely unharmed. Now... your turn,” he smirked, his eyes drifting back over your body, enjoying every inch of skin he could see beneath his jacket.

“Can’t I keep it just a little longer...? It suits me, don’t you think?” you asked innocently, twirling around for him to catch a good glimpse of your ass peeking from beneath the leather.

Mary pinched at his chin, unashamedly watching your ass as you modelled his jacket for him. “Hmm,” he hummed, “I suppose... it does have a kind of charm on you, doll.”

You giggled, the sound momentarily scrambling the frequencies in his brain again before he shook his head and refocussed. You stepped towards him, biting your sultry red lip as you looked him up and down with the same hunger he had shown you.

“So... do I get to wear it a little longer?”

“Maybe just a little, doll...” he shrugged, waiting as you slowly approached him.

“Just a little?” you pouted, coming to stand in front of him, wrapping your arms around his neck. He kept his hands to himself, tucked back into his pockets. “Why just a little longer?”

“Because, doll... I ain’t gonna be able to stop myself ripping it off ya pretty fuckin’ soon,” he threatened. You grinned, pulling your body to rest against him, breasts pushed into his chest and hips grazing his half-hard length in his tight jeans.

“Enough talk, Mare... You came here to fuck me, so fuck me,” you told him, hovering your lips close to his.

But Mary just laughed, throwing his head back. “Oh, doll... Nuh-uh... You think I’m gonna rush this?” he asked, stepping either side of your feet and pushing you a step backwards simply with the force of his chest against yours. “Last time, we were in danger of gettin’ caught. Had to be quick, hm?” He took another step, forcing you back again. “But I reckon we got some time while daddy shmoozes his guests downstairs... I ain’t rushin’ this time, doll...”

He backs you up until you can feel the frills of your bedding on the bare backs of your knees, tickling the exposed skin but he stops you there, not yet pushing you down onto the mattress. Instead, he lifts one of his hands from his pocket, pressing his thumb to your bottom lip and lightly pulling it down.

“You wear this shade just for me, baby?” he asked, arching an eyebrow. From this close, you could see the details in his make up, the dark circles he painted on with pale skin, the fake blood dripping from his hairline. The fringe of his spiked hair tickled your nose where it came to a point, and you shivered from the tickle and his light grasp on your lip.

“Uh-huh,” you confirmed, Mary smirking in triumph.

“I like it... Wonder how it’d look on me,” he teased. “Let’s find out...”

In less than a heartbeat he dropped your lip, his hand reaching for the lapel of his jacket draped over your body and pulling you to him, pressing his lips to yours. You whimpered at the contact, your mind blanking with the sensation of being able to finally kiss him again after a painful two weeks.

Mary stayed true to his word, taking his time to mould his lips with yours, tilting his head in order to make you more pliant in his grasp. He tasted as he did the last time you met, with the exception of the beer you had pounded together that evening; the lingering taste of cigarette smoke and a vague sweetness from whatever he used as fake blood to drip down his face.

Your fingers wound their way into the shorter hair at the back of his head, tugging at the roots while your arms tightened around his neck. Mary’s grip on his jacket fell to your hips, pulling at the elastic of the garter belt around your waist. He could feel your bare skin beneath it, driving him utterly insane with want. But no, he said he wouldn’t rush this. He wouldn’t. He wanted to savour every touch, every taste, every noise he could from you.

But he also couldn’t bring himself to deny you when you ran your tongue along his bottom lip, a clear indication you needed to taste more of him, directly from the source. And so, he allowed you to invade, tongue meeting in a slow and deliberate show of sensuality.

Somehow, despite being so much slower in his movements this time around, it felt all the more filthy than your encounter in the bathroom stall. Your little mewls of pleasure and his dark little chuckles and groans added something to the moment, a familiar sense of desperation for each other.

Eventually, Mary pushed you to sit at the edge of your bed, tapping the steel toecap of his boots at your inner ankles to spread your knees for him to stand in the space you created. You did so without a fight, looking up at him through half-lidded eyes and curving your back to give him a nice view of your ass over your shoulder. He pinched your chin between his thumb and forefinger, smirking down at you with a smudge of red across his lips.

“Well...? How does your lipstick look on me, doll?” he asked, pouting for added effect.

“Suits you...” you giggled, “but I’m wondering...” You reached for his belt, unbuckling the leather from the oversized skull buckle, “how it’d look smothered along your cock...”

“Fuck, you’re filthy, doll...” he praised, but he gripped your wrists and paused your movements. “But as my memory serves me, you’ve taken my cock in that pretty mouth before, hm? And as fucking good as that was, I wanna try something new tonight. That alright with you?” he asked, a genuine tenderness in his eyes that let you know it was alright to tell him no, that you could back out any second if you wanted.

But the sparkle that said Mary had a plan was still very much prevalent, and you let your curiosity get the better of you. You wanted whatever he planned. You wanted anything Mary was willing to give.

“Whatever you want, Mare,” you smirked, fluttering your eyelashes up at him as you loosened your grip on his belt.

Mary whistled with a smirk and a shake of his head, “Careful sweetheart... That’s a real dangerous door to open.”

Before you could think of a witty response, his hand wrapped itself around your exposed neck, the cool feel of his silver rings contrasting with the heat of arousal that emanated from your skin. With his thumb, he titled your chin up a little more, before he dipped his head to attach his teeth to the space under your ear, nibbling, suckling, licking over the skin as he travelled down your neck, holding you in place while he bent over you.

Because he was stood between your thighs, you couldn’t help but widen them to accommodate him, his body slotting itself in and crowded your senses. You could smell a cologne on him – not one he’d worn last time... was he try to impress you? - that was musky and woody, only complimented by the faint smell of cigarette smoke.

Mary made his way down your neck, holding you tightly as he moved to your chest, paying close attention to the sounds of your laboured breaths and little whimpers as he got closer to the curve of your breasts. To aid his descent, Mary got down onto one knee, his free hand gripping your thigh for stability just as tightly as he held your neck. To your disappointment, he moved back just as he was getting close to the red elastic that sat above the cup of your bra, still holding you in place.

“Look at me, doll...” he commanded, and you did so without question – a little difficult, with the way he was holding your chin higher than it naturally sat. But he held eye contact with you, even as he moved in to lick a wide stripe between your breasts from your sternum, right up to where his hand grasped your neck. Your hips bucked just a little in arousal, but he noticed. Mary didn’t miss a trick.

“Fuckin’ needy little thing, you are. What, you want me to touch you?” His hand on your neck slid up to cup your jaw, two of his fingertips forcing their way past your lips and holding you tight. “Want my tongue? My fingers? My cock?”

You couldn’t answer if you tried, his hand locked in place, keeping you silent save for the pleading whine you let out. Mary laughed, reattaching his lips to your chest and trailing open mouthed kisses down to the curve of your breast, finally mouthing at flesh instead of skin and bone. He bit down on you, digging his nails into your thigh as he did to spread the light pain further across your body. You couldn’t help the gasp you let out, hips rolling on the bed in search of something more.

“Undo this bra for me, doll. My hands are busy,” he told you. You did as you were told, reaching behind you and unclasping the hooks, letting it fall loose on your shoulders underneath Mary’s jacket. With the tension removed from the elastic, he could move the flimsy cups out of the way, nudging them with that delectable nose of his to finally reach the nipples that had hardened for him long ago.

His tongue laved over the bud, heavy breaths flooding from his nose while his mouth was preoccupied with your tits. By the noise he was making, Mary seemed to be enjoying himself, fingertips digging into your thigh against, his rings imprinting on your flesh.

With Mary distracted, you shimmied out of his jacket, wanting to take the bra off completely. When you’d thrown the thin little thing to the side, Mary’s eyes looked up at you with a darkness, a hint of distaste in them.

“Put that fucking jacket back on,” he growled against your breast. “Ain’t nothin’ prettier than tits and leather.” You giggled around the fingers in your mouth and reached for the jacket that lay around you, shuffling until you had it back on. “Good girl,” he mumbled against your breast again, suckling at your nipple while he slid the hand from your mouth down to cup the other breast, pinching in time with his teeth nipping at the other.

Your hands found his hair again, messing with the way he’d styled it and scratching at his scalp as you pulled his head closer to you. You rolled your hips again where you sat, trying desperately to grind against his chest but you simply couldn’t reach from here, and you whimpered at the lack of contact to where you really needed him.

With a popping sound, Mary pulled back from your breast and levelled his face with yours, demanding eye contact.

“Needy little girl wants me to touch her cunt, huh?” he asked, no hint of shame or shyness to him at all. It made your core burn for him.

“Please, Mare...” you whined.

“Said I was gonna take my time, doll. You gettin’ impatient?” He arched an eyebrow, testing you. You were in no mood to hide your lust.

“Mhm...”

“You want my cock that badly?” he asked, a cocky smile playing on his lips. You nodded, giving him your best pathetically needy puppy-dog eyes. He just laughed.

“Tough shit, doll. I’m sure you’re used to gettin’ what you want, but I wanna enjoy this. And frankly, baby, I’m thirsty. I’ve been here all this time, and you haven’t even offered your guest a drink?” he accused, acting insulted. “Just rude, that. Guess I’ll have to get my own...”

A swell of panic rose in your chest, your eyes widening as your eyes darted towards the door to the hallway. He couldn’t... Your father would go nuts, throw Mary out by the collar of his band shirt and ground you for the rest of eternity – even if you were a fucking adult.

Mary followed your gaze and laughed. “Not from there, doll. I got what I need right here.”

Without warning, Mary pulled the feeble lace of your panties to one side, exposing your dripping centre to him and launching himself between your thighs. His lips encircled your clit and with a loud slurp, and he took enough of your arousal onto his tongue to coat the appendage completely. You couldn’t help the loud gasp that forced its way up your throat, Mary’s hand slapping over your open mouth to cut it off.

Now silenced, you allowed the moans to spill freely against his palm as he dove into your core, lapping at your clit, your lips and your entrance like he already knew what you liked, where you needed him. True to his word, Mary drank from you every drop of arousal you produced as if he hadn’t hydrated in days. His make up smeared all over you, a mixture of fake blood and whatever black and white paints he’d used for his dull skull make up. You could see the pink tinge of your lipstick still around his lips, getting messier by the second.

As he focussed on your clit, you howled against his palm, prompting him to remove himself from your core and shush you just inches from your face, warning you with darkened eyes to keep quiet, or he’d stop everything. You may have a big house, but Mary was still very aware of the dinner going on downstairs; he was not about to get thrown out of your house with a raging boner and smeared pussy juice all over his fucking face.

“Seems I can’t keep you quiet, doll... How do I shut you up, hm?” he asked, pressing his hand harder against your lips as he looked around your room for something to aid him. His eyes landed on the white lace beside you, draped over the corner of your bed, and his eyes glimmered with mischief.

With his free hand, he grabbed at your used panties, balling them up and stuffing them into your mouth until he was sure he’d plugged up the source of the noise.

“There. Now do me a favour, pretty girl...” he leaned in to whisper in your ear, the faint scent of your juices hitting your nose from the mess over his mouth and chin, “ shut the fuck up...”

You moaned into the lace in your mouth, muffled well enough that only Mary would be able to hear. The way he spoke to you, took command and degraded you made you so damn weak for him; because you had a weird feeling you were safe with Mary.

Absolutely, he was a son of a bitch, a fucking asshole, a total whore and the filthiest guy you had yet to meet but there was always an air of safety with him, of comfort and a mutual respect you didn’t seem to get with any of the assholes you’d fooled around with in the past. Mary wasn’t exactly your usual type – unwillingly a cliché, you only seemed to fool around with jocks or preppy guys – but that was because you had always, always lived up to daddy’s expectations. You fooled around with the guys your father would approve of, in the hope that someday he may approve of you in the same way.

Mary was the opposite of that and truthfully, the first guy you’d slept with that made you feel anything other than a dull buzz. For starters, he knew where the clit was and what to fucking do with it – but there was an electricity there, the spark of a passion you’d not yet felt with anyone else. Mary knew what buttons to press, how far he could go; he was running off pure instinct, listening to you, feeling you, understanding you.

He dove back between your legs, the jolt of pleasure as his tongue swept over your clit forcing your legs to clamp down around his head. His hands gripped onto your thighs, nails digging into the flesh as if encouraging you, taunting you to try and squeeze until you crushed him. Your moans were caught by the lace in your mouth, muffled but still as desperate as they had always been under Mary’s spell.

You had always thought there was no way a man could make you cum with just his tongue, but you thought the same thing of men in general, having been left unsatisfied without your own intervention during every sexual encounter with a man previously. But Mary had already proved you wrong when he’d made you squirt on his cock – you hadn’t even realised you could do that.

He was determined to make you do the same again, still feeling particularly thirsty for you. He persevered, swiping his tongue over your most sensitive of nerves, winding the coil in your abdomen tighter and tighter... The only warning you gave him was your hands gripping the roots of his hair, your hips shoving themselves against his face right before you squealed against the lace, biting down and once again, squirting as you came from Mary’s ministrations.

Mary growled with hunger as he caught as much as he could, drinking every drop he could reach, rutting against the tightness in his jeans for some kind of friction for himself, now too turned on to hold back. He didn’t stop for air, never pulled away from you until you were physically pushing at his head, overstimulated and in need of a reprieve.

Mary fell back, his hands catching himself on your carpet as he gasped for air, your cum dripping from his chin mixed with fake blood, white paints and your smeared lipsticks. You fell back against the mattress, pressing your fingertips into your eyes in a hope it might ground you as you came down. You made no move to remove the lace from your mouth; it served to still silence the whimpers of aftershocks that rippled through you, your limbs convulsing every few seconds after brief pauses of stillness.

You missed the smugness on Mary’s face as he licked what he could reach from around his mouth, smearing the rest on the back of his palm. Slowly, he crawled back to his knees, slinking his way over your chest and hovering above you like a serpent ready to wrap himself around you and squeeze your life essence from your body. His eyes looked predatory, and your heart rate that had begun to stabilise shot through the roof again.

Mary wasn’t finished.

“Think that’s my thirst quenched, doll...” he smirked, running his thumb along your stained bottom lip, noting how the red had transferred to the white lace gag. “Fuckin’ love that you can do that for me.”

You did your best to smile around the intrusion in your mouth, your eyes doing most of the emoting.

“But y’know what?” he teased, pressing kisses under your ear lobe as his hands travelled down to your breasts again, lightly tracing around your nipple and back up to your throat. “I’m fuckin’ hungry, now.”

With a strength you didn’t know he possessed judging by his scrawny little frame, he gripped the edges of his open leather jacket in one fist, lifted it with enough force that he could throw you backwards, back hitting the piles of stuffed animals and pillows. You yelped, again muffled by the cotton lace.

Mary just laughed. He stood up at the end of the bed, reaching to the back collar of his cut-off band tee and dragging it over his head until it fell to the ground.

“You want my cock, didn’t you doll?” he asked, keeping his voice relatively low so as not to raise suspicion from downstairs. You may have been gagged, but he wasn’t. He had to still be careful. But you nodded at him frantically, squeezing your thighs together in anticipation.

His hands worked the button and fly of his skinny jeans, shoving the tight material down his thighs until he could stand on them to pull one leg out, then the other. He whipped his briefs off pretty quickly too, freeing himself completely. You watched in delight as he fisted his length a couple of times – this was the first time you’d seen him bared to you like this, and frankly, you couldn’t seem to get enough...

His subtle definition over his skinny form had you drooling, eyes following the trail of hair from his stomach to his well-kept pubic hair. You whimpered at the sight of his cock, completely free from confinement, and his thighs that tensed as his fist squeezed at the head of his cock.

Without another word, Mary knelt on the bed, pulling your ankles apart to give him space to shuffle between them. He wanted unrestricted access to your core, and so began pulling the garter belt from your waist along with the garters themselves, so he would finally make progress and get to the waistband of your panties underneath.

This pretty red shade was gonna haunt him at night, he just knew it. He couldn’t get away with keeping it this time; his memory would have to do.

Now fully undressed, Mary had you right where he wanted you – naked and beneath him, with only his leather jacket on. You were the sexiest god damned thing he’d ever fucking seen.

He hovered above you, trailing his fingertips from your neck, down over your breasts and to your thigh, where he hooked his hand under your knee and hiked it up to his hip. He lowered himself, his bare cock sliding against the mess between your legs. His eyes locked with yours, and for a moment he seemed to falter, as if looking for some kind of anomaly in your irises. Suddenly, Mary was pulling the panties from your mouth and instead, pushing his lips to yours for another engulfing kiss.

You held his head in place, raising from the pillows to meet him and move so effortlessly with him. You could taste yourself faintly on his lips, and eagerly you swiped your tongue over his for more of it.

Mary pressed his forehead to yours as he let the kiss fade out, squeezing his eyes shut and bracing himself as he lined the head of his cock up with your dripping centre. He hadn’t prepped you at all, and so he knew that first push he had to go slowly, he had to be careful – but he also knew you’d be tighter than last time, his fingers not yet working you open.

“Tell me you want me, baby...” he whispered to you, nuzzling his nose against yours, lost in bliss.

“I want you, Mare...” You didn’t even hesitate, whispering back. “Please...”

Mary kissed you again, using your lips to try and distract him from the squeeze of his cock pushing into you, slowly filling you so deliciously, so completely... With the strain of keeping his composure, his lips pressed harder against yours. Your fingernails dug into his head as you held him in place, whimpering into your kiss.

When he’d completely filled you, his hips flush against yours, he stilled for a moment and parted his lips from yours.

“You good, doll?” he asked, searching your face for any signs of discomfort. He found none, but he needed confirmation. This felt different to last time, more intimate than the bathroom encounter. Maybe it was because he was surrounded by your childhood bedroom and very aware of how vulnerable that made you to him. Maybe it was because he was able to actually see you this time. Maybe it was because he was pressed up against you, held by you in such a way that he hadn’t had in quite some time, his usual encounters with women fleeting and rushed.

But like Mary had said in the beginning; tonight, he wasn’t rushing.

“I’m good, Mare. Please, move,” you begged, rolling your hips beneath him for the slightest friction.

He obliged without hesitation now he had the green light, slowly rolling his hips to drag his length back through your sopping heat until he could push himself back in with a more deliberate and angled thrust. You gasped beneath him, his hand once again coming to slap over your lips to silence you.

“Careful, baby. Don’t make me gag you again, hm?” You nodded from underneath his palm as he found his pace, filling you over and over and deliciously hitting that same pressure point he’d found last time. “Good girl... You know I love the pretty noises you make for me, but they’re just for me, you hear?” he warned. You nodded again, slamming your head back down into the pillows beneath you, your hands running down to his shoulders to hold onto him.

His hand drifted from your mouth, instead finding purchase on your hip bone to hold you down against the mattress while he drove his cock deep inside you over and over again. Although a struggle, you managed to contain your moans for the time being, biting down on your bottom lip and squeezing his shoulders.

Mary, too, was struggling to keep quiet. He wanted nothing more than to roar in his bliss, to grunt and growl and lose his fucking mind between your legs but he held back, gritting his teeth around the noises he let escape. You saw his struggle, and figured now was as good a time as any to mess with him...

“You feel so good, Mare...” you whispered breathlessly. His brow visibly creased, his eyes boring into yours. “Filling me so perfectly. C-can feel you... in my fucking... stomach,” your sentence broke apart as his thrusts got harder and harder with each of your words, spurred on by your filth.

“ Fuck , baby girl... You tryna make me lose it, huh?” You just giggled beneath him, riling him up further.

“C’mon Mare, fuck me... Gag me if you gotta, but fuck, just lose it. Fuck me, Goore...” You begged.

Mary buried himself in your neck and growled against it, biting at the flesh and ramming his hips into you harder and harder. Your own whimpers slipped from within, and again, Mary had to cover your mouth with his hand to stop them getting any louder, drawing attention to you both.

Between his hand on your mouth and jaw and the other pinning your hips to the bed, you were stuck beneath him, unable to writhe and move much at all below the unforgiving Mary, who – like you had told him to – had lost it. The sight of him was maddening, intoxicating. It had you clenching your walls around him, earning muffled groans and huffs from above you.

“Fuckin’ love the way this pussy grips me, baby. Like you never wanna let me go...” he chuckled, gritting his teeth.

You were so close, that familiar tingle growing desperately by the second, heat pooling and spreading from your core through every limb, like magma spilling from a crater and coating everything in its path.

“M-Mary...” you whispered, nails digging into his back and dragging across the pale skin, leaving red scrapes in their path. He fucking loved that shit.

“What is it, baby? You gonna cum again for me? I get two outta you, this time?” he teased. “Go ahead, cream on my cock. I got you,” he promised; and you believed him.

Even with the grip on your body he had, Mary couldn’t stop you from curling in on yourself, that coil inside you seeming to wind you up like a clockwork toy until you eventually broke, pulling Mary against your chest and ripping his hand from your lips so you could kiss him, releasing all of your energy into a scream that was swallowed by his lips and tongue.

Mary’s hips never faltered, but he felt the way your pussy gripped him, the drag of each thrust so much harder between that and your hands pulling his body taught against your own. His resolve crumbled quickly, hips frantically smacking into yours until he could feel himself on the edge.

Mary hadn’t cum inside last time, and in the absence of a condom, he wasn’t sure you’d allow him. He’d understand, but with your lips trapping his from asking permission, he was beginning to panic, his end rushing towards him like a freight train.

He held off, somehow managing to keep himself from climaxing until your climax had dulled enough for him to pry you from his lips, smacking his forehead to yours as he grunted and took a breath.

“Doll, g-gonna cum... W-where?” he could barely ask a full sentence in the state he was in, but you understood despite the haze of a ridiculously powerful second orgasm.

“On... the pill...” you’d said between breathless gasps, still reeling from more aftershocks and surrounded by the suffocating heat of both your bodies entwined in each other. “Inside, Mare. Fill me,” you told him.

That was the spark to a puddle of gasoline... it ignited him instantly, barrelling headfirst into an orgasm he felt in every single nerve in his body.

You held him, arms wrapped tight around his shoulders as his forehead bruisingly pressed into yours, his jaw dropping as a loud moan began to rip from his chest. This time, it was you stuffing your white panties into his mouth, just in time to stop the noise reverberating on the walls and causing one hell of a scene for your parents to rush in on.

He didn’t still his hips, rather slowed them to savour the feeling of his spend filling you up, warming both your insides and his shaft. His cock was so damn sensitive now, every slow drag through his mess inside you having him jolt against you in overstimulation until finally, he’d calmed himself enough to be able to pull out and collapse into your chest, his leather jacket sticking to the both of you.

For a while, you lay like that; catching your breath and laying in the afterglow of a damn good fuck. It wasn’t until Mary rolled onto his side next to you and spat your panties out that you felt the relief of a cool breeze caused by his movement.

“I got no idea where you got that mouth of yours, darlin’, but it’s gonna get me in a lot of trouble...” he chuckled, running his fingers through his sweat-damp hair, pushing it from his forehead.

“Oh, my mouth? Seems to me, you’re the talker of the two of us, Goore,” you prodded an accusatory finger into his peck. Mary made a “meh” noise, falling into his back and rubbing his hands over his face, only to look at them and notice the mess of colours that transferred to his palms.

“Shit, was that a bathroom you popped out from earlier? I uh... could do with a hose down.” You laughed at him, nodding as you sat up.

“Me first, though. Heard a girl should always pee after sex,” you shrugged. “Helps... something? Whatever.” You stood, clenching your thighs together when you felt the mess that threatened to drip from you. Ah, that’s why.

Mary just chuckled at the way you waddled into your little en suite and waited patiently for his turn to spruce himself up in your shower, teasing you when he’d seen you emerge in a towel with your hair thrown up and out of the way.

Truthfully, he’d hoped maybe you’d have joined him – but perhaps you felt like that was a little too intimate. He had to remember his place, after all. Just a booty call, and booty calls don’t wash each other’s bodies and shampoo each other’s hair.

Now clean, Mary emerged in a towel with his hair still dripping. You hadn’t seen him without his signature face paint since he’d dropped out of school at 15, and he seemed somewhat vulnerable without it; like he’d stripped himself of a protective layer between him and the rest of the world.

Nevertheless, Mary dressed himself again and sat down at the edge of your bed, where you’d sat waiting for him in a fresh pair of sweatpants and a cami top – topped off, of course, by his leather jacket. Mary laughed at the sight.

“Am I not gonna get that back, doll?” he asked, nodding at the jacket as he buckled his belt back up.

“Not yet... Gonna need it, it’s cold out tonight,” you shrugged.

“Oh? We goin’ somewhere?” he asked, arching an eyebrow as he dug into his back pocket for his pack of cigarettes, pulling one from the box and shoving it between his teeth.

You stood and took a step towards him, plucking the cigarette from his teeth and instead pushing it between your lips. “Can’t smoke inside, daddy will smell it.”

Mary’s lips curled into a wicked smile. You really were the hottest little minx he’d had the pleasure of fucking.

You strode over to the open window Mary had climbed in through, climbing out onto the roof and heading for the edge of the apex, climbing down it to the flat platform of the garage roof, safely tucked to the side of the house. Up there sat a little flowerpot filled with sand that you’d put there over two years ago – a makeshift ashtray for your little sneaky smokes.

Mary followed you, both of you taking a seat to the back of the garage roof, overlooking the street shrouded in dim streetlights.

“Little more rebellious than I thought, huh?” he joked, tapping the flowerpot with his foot. He reached over and took the cigarette from your lips, plucking another fresh one from his pack and pushing them both between his teeth. With a zippo lighter engraved with a bat, he lit them both and passed one to you.

“Thanks,” you smiled, taking your first lungful of nicotine. You sighed, content and relaxed.

“Ain’t nothin’ like a cigarette after an orgasm, is there?” Mary chuckled, the cigarette bobbing between his lips as he spoke around it.

“Nope,” you said, popping the ‘p’ for dramatic effect.

As you took another drag, you caught sight from the corner of your eye your parents shaking the hands and kissing the cheeks of his deputy mayor and wife. Their meal must be over, the goodbye pleasantries exchanged as your parents wave off the car pulling out of your driveway. You watch quietly as they turn and head back to the porch beneath you, out of sight from where you sat.

But Mary isn’t watching them. He’s watching you , with a creased brow and a million questions swarming around his mind. It’s not until you turn to look back at him that you notice, and you feel like you’ve somehow been caught doing something you shouldn’t.

“Alright, I gotta ask ‘cause this is killin’ me,” he said, taking another drag of his cigarette and mulling over how to word this without causing any kind of offense – something Mary usually got wrong. “What is it about me that you seem so attracted to?”

His question caught you off guard, your brow creasing in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Well... I assume that in order to sleep with me – twice – you'd have to be somewhat attracted to me, right?” he shrugged. You nodded, urging him to continue, as if you still didn’t understand his question. “So, I guess what I’m asking is... what does a girl like you see in a guy like me?”

Your expression darkened, an anger and defensiveness bubbling away inside you. This was exactly the kind of shit you expected; Mary had stereotyped you, just like the rest of them. You thought he might be different, that as an outcast himself who was stereotyped by the entire fucking town he might have given you the same leeway you had him. But no, here he was, putting you back in your neat little box.

“What do you mean... a girl like me?”

Mary noticed the change in your demeanour, but he was just being honest. He didn’t want to upset you, why would he? But he was overcurious, and perhaps, just a little too honest.

“Oh, come on, doll... First night I met you, you were wearing that pretty little sundress and out with your ‘girlfriends’. Then tonight, I climb in through your window like some shitty high school movie and find your bedroom is covered in lace and frills and pink. You’ve got the trinkets and the pretty little ornaments... and your bed is covered in stuffed animals, like you’ve had that collection since you were a kid. You and I ain’t the same, we’re so polar opposite so logically, it doesn’t make sense,” he rambled. All the while, your blood boiled hotter and hotter, anger turning to rage.

“I mean, you’re daddy’s little girl, so sweet and pretty and the town loves you. You’re too damn good for a ‘shit for brains’, ‘punk-ass kid’ like me.” Those had been direct quotes from a couple of cops who’d gotten to know Mary’s face over the years.

“I am not ‘ daddy’s little girl’,” you seethed, “And you don’t know a fucking thing about me, Goore. You’re just like all of them, treating me like some fucking kid who can’t think for herself.”

“I never said that, I just don’t understand why-” he started, but you cut him off.

“No that’s just it, you don’t understand. That’s all people see of me, being his daughter...” you stood, shoving the cigarette between your teeth and walking to the edge of the roof, sitting there and dangling your feet over the edge. Mary stayed put for a second, bewildered and letting you cool off for a moment. Clearly, he’d struck a nerve. Guilt wracks through him, and he awkwardly rubs the back of his head, his hair still damp but now chilled in the night air.

With a sigh, he holds his cigarette between his teeth and gets up, coming to sit down beside you without a word. He notes your scowl, and the way you avert your eyes from him.

“So, go on... what’s the deal with your dad, then?” he asked, looking out ahead of him as he took another drag. He watches you fold your arms over your chest, the leather of his jacket squeaking as it rubs over itself.

“Treats me like a kid, like I’m not a grown-ass woman with her own brain,” you sighed, looking down at your feet swinging over the edge of the garage. “I gotta be this perfect girl all the time, because that’s the image he created for me; the all-American, perfect family. It’s just part of his fucking political career. I don’t get a say, I never have.”

Mary’s nose wrinkles as he thinks to himself, not quite understanding. Surely you were old enough to have your own mind, or at the very least, to redecorate.

“Well, if you think that’s not you, why do you go along with it? You play the part very well...” he says, watching you from beside you.

Your head snaps to look at him, a fresh anger brewing again, like someone had turned the heat right up on the stove.

“You think so? Gee, thanks, Goore,” you mocked him in your best girl-ish, high-pitched bimbo voice.

“I just meant-”

“You don’t get it. Whatever. Why would you? I never asked you to give a fuck about my shit anyway.”

Now Mary was getting pissed off, his mind working its way into overdrive as he looked at you and your little temper tantrum, thought about your life of privilege – something he’d never had. You had money, a big house, nice clothes, fucking bodyguards at the drop of a hat. And he’d had an alcoholic mother, a deadbeat father and a lifetime of people hating him for his love of metal and macabre. Your lives were total fucking parallels, and he couldn’t understand why you got so angry at your life when you had it all.

So, he scoffed at you. “’Your shit’, huh? Sure, your struggle sound real tough, Barbie.”

“Barbie?!” you shrieked, uncaring if someone had heard. “I’m fucking Barbie, now?”

“Just seems to me like you don’t know privilege when you see it, doll. Even when it’s right under your nose.” He could hear it in his voice; he was being an asshole, he had no idea what your life was truly like, but he was so defensive of his own upbringing, his own issues that he wasn’t willing to see that you had any. To him, your life was perfect, and you were just being a brat.

“Fuck you, Goore,” you spat through gritted teeth. Mary smacked his lips, nodding in anger.

“Yep,” he said, shoving his cigarette between his teeth again, now burnt over halfway down. “Y’know what? I’m gonna go. This was fun, Barbie, but this Ken’s gotta split.” He slapped his hands against his thighs before swinging his legs up to the rooftop and standing, dusting himself off.

“Yeah, maybe you should. Don’t think we’re exactly compatible...” you scowled, pulling your knees up to your chest as you smoked, refusing to look at him.

He waits a moment, chewing over whether he should say anything else, try and fix this animosity and maybe even apologise. But he couldn’t bring himself to say the words... Not when he didn’t see what he’d done wrong. Instead, he crouched down beside you, holding his hand out. You turned to stare at it for a moment, wondering what on earth he wanted you to do. Did he expect you to hold it? To say sorry? To go with him?

No, none of those.

“My jacket, Barbie,” he deadpanned, curling his fingers in a ‘gimme’ motion.

You didn’t speak, instead holding your cigarette between your teeth and pulling the leather from your body. The chill hit your skin immediately, but your stubbornness refused to let it show. Instead, you slammed the jacket back in his hand, and turned away from him.

“There, we both got our shit back. Now you’ve got no reason to come back,” you told him.

Mary shook his head, smacking his lips one more time before he headed over to the trellis he’d climbed up, and made his way back down, avoiding the windows and making sure he wouldn’t be caught when he climbed back over the fence.

Just as he got to his van, he turned back around to see you climbing back through your window, shoving the frame closed and storming off into your room where he couldn’t see you. Mary shook his head with an eye roll, yanking his van door open and throwing his jacket into the passenger side before he climbed in and settled into his seat. He was about to turn the key in the ignition, to get the fuck out of there as quickly as possible, but he stopped himself.

Instead, he slammed his palm against the steering wheel, cursing himself out.

“Fucking idiot, man...” he chastised, throwing his head back against the battered headrest of his seat. He sat there for a while, replaying your conversation in his head. He thought of every single way that could have gone differently, how he could have handled that better rather than resorting to his usual defensive self.

After about ten minutes of self-reflection – and frankly, self-loathing – he turned to look back at the bedroom window he’d climbed through that night, just in time to see your light switch off.

What he didn’t know, was that you were still watching him from the darkness of your bedroom... or, at least, his van; parked where it had been all evening. He hadn’t even made a move to turn on his engine, sitting in the street in silence.

But now, seeing your light switch off, Mary sighed to himself and found his keys to switch on the ignition. His engine roared to life, as did his stereo that was tuned to some kind of heavy metal. His headlights switched on, and you watched from your window as his van drove off into the night. Tears streaked down your face, and you became overwhelmed by that suffocating feeling of your only morsel of freedom running away from you, after you’d managed to push him away.

You’d never felt more trapped in your all-American dream-life than you did now.

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oldiesstationlover11607 · 2 months ago

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HIII BFFF!!!🤗🤗 i hope u are well!!!

sorry for not being active 😣😣 a gal has been booked and BUSY. but hopefully i’ll have some more free time soon 🙏🙏

i was going to write something like this… howeverrrr i have a lot of ideas already & i think you can do a really good job with this!!!

but basically you can pick either josh or tyler & the reader is a pop rock kinda artist & tyler/josh have always admired her from afar. so they invite the reader to open for them on tour. there’s some romantic tension & reader plays a song dedicated to tyler/josh & the fans r all 😮😮😮

something like that!!!! you can do whatever with it, i think there’s a lot of directions you can take this:3

p.s how are you feeling abt getting a LIVE ALBUM… still in shock.

Smithereens - Tyler Joseph x Singer!Reader

Warnings: Nothing hehe

Word Count: 3648 - pretty sure this is officially the longest fic I've written and posted on here :)

A/N: OH MA GAWD THIS WAS FUN AF FREN... this is so freaking cute I can't even deal with it! I'm in massive shock at the fact we're getting a live album btw my show isn't even until November and things just keep getting better and better with the tour lol I can't believe we're getting some of the transitions like natn to hds like WHAT THE WOW oh and the possibility of hometown x slowtown (um slowtown on streaming???? Tyler the man u ur–and josh bc ily). I cannot wait. oh and heathens into next semester... I'm so excited bc the setlist is so good it's gonna rock and be on repeat forever. Anyways, enough rambling onto the amazing fic I am incredibly proud of! 😁

“What!” I barked into my phone, rubbing my eyes until my vision went from blurry to clear. It had been a crazy night before, staying up late partying with my friends before falling to sleep at 3am. What had woken me up was a series of buzzing noises from my phone, buzz after buzz after buzz until it started ringing.

“Y/N? It’s Mary.” Shit. My manager.

“Oh! Sorry! It was a hectic night,” I laughed, running a hand through my hair.

Her laugh echoed through the speakers of my phone. “So I’ve heard. It’s all over social media.” I shook my head, knowing exactly who had posted what to their thousands of followers.

“What’s up?” I asked, flopping down onto my perfectly plump pillows.

“I’ve booked you a tour!” I could tell she was ecstatic, even more so that I was. We’d been hoping to book a tour for the last year and a half and finally we’d done it. It was hard trying to find bands or musicians who were open to having newer and alternative artists open for them–especially someone whose genre is somewhat all over the place.

“What?” I shot up in bed, wide awake now, the sleepiness immediately replaced by a rush of excitement and nerves. “With who?”

Mary hesitated for a moment, letting the anticipation build. “Well... how do you feel about opening for Twenty One Pilots?”

My heart practically leapt out of my chest. Twenty One Pilots? As in Josh Dun and Tyler Joseph? I’d always admired them, like... from afar. Sure, we’d crossed paths a few times at festivals and award shows, but nothing like this. In fact, I wasn’t even sure if they’d heard of me before.

“You’re kidding,” I breathed out, my voice barely a whisper.

“Not at all,” she replied, her tone giddy with excitement for me. “They specifically asked for you. Apparently, Tyler’s been a big fan of your music for a while. This could be huge, Y/N.”

I could hardly process it. “Wait… they asked for me? Tyler listens to my music? Sorry WHAT?!” Tyler Joseph? A fan of my music? It felt unreal. “I—” I stammered, feeling overwhelmed. “When does it start?”

“Next month. But you’re going to need to rehearse like crazy to get ready.”

“I’ll be ready.” I hung up the phone and collapsed back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling in disbelief. I was going on tour with Twenty One Pilots. Tyler and Josh. The guys I had admired for years were now... going to be watching me from backstage? I felt a shiver of nervous energy run down my spine.

A few weeks later, rehearsals were in full swing, and I was gearing up for the first show.

“Y/N! They’re here!” My friend Joseph had screeched running into the rehearsal space. “No way.” I covered my mouth to try and hide the growing psychotic smile on my face. I was going to pass out from excitement. This wasn’t happening. I turned to the entrance to see the two of them strutting in, shaking the hands and bumping the fists of crew members they both knew and didn’t know. My heart was pounding as I watched them walk in, every movement somehow both casual and magnetic. Josh, with his surprisingly natural brown hair and classic easy smile, waved at a few familiar faces, while Tyler, wearing his usual baseball cap and oversized hoodie, exuded that quiet intensity I’d always admired. They looked like they belonged, like they owned the room without even trying. And here I was, standing in the middle of the rehearsal space, trying not to lose my cool.

Joseph was practically vibrating with excitement beside me, nudging me with his elbow. “Dude, go say hi!” he whispered, eyes wide.

“I-I can’t. Look at them,” I replied, clenching my jaw through every world to hide my delusion.

I swallowed hard, my palms already sweaty. What was I supposed to say? Hey, I'm Y/N, a rando who's admired you from afar for years? Oh, and thanks for asking me to open for you on tour, no big deal.

Before I could overthink it any more, Tyler's eyes landed on me. My breath hitched as he gave me a nod and a small smile, his gaze lingering just long enough to make my pulse race. He elbowed Josh, who turned and followed his gaze.

“Oh man, it’s her!” Josh said, grinning as they walked over. Sorry, what?

“Y/N, right?” Tyler said, his voice warm but somehow deeper in person.

I turned to look around the room as if trying to figure out if he was talking to me or not. “Uh… yeah?” I said, it came out more like a question than an answer. “Yeah, that's me,” I repeated, trying to sound casual even though my heart was doing backflips. “Thanks for, uh... asking me to open for you guys. It's an honor.”

Tyler exchanged a glance with Josh, something unspoken passing between them. “We’ve been following your music for a while now,” Tyler admitted, rubbing the back of his neck like he was just as unsure of what to say as I was. “You–You’re really talented.”

I blinked, trying to process the fact that Tyler Joseph just said that to me. “Thanks. That means a lot, really.”

“We’re stoked to have you on board,” Josh chimed in, flashing that friendly, easygoing smile. “I think the fans are gonna lose it when they see you perform.”

“Yeah,” Tyler added, his eyes meeting mine again. “It's gonna be a good tour.”

There was something in the way he said it, the weight behind his words, that made my skin tingle. I felt that spark again, the same one I’d felt from watching him in interviews and onstage, but this time it was real. Tangible.

Over the next few days, I kept catching Tyler’s eyes during rehearsals, our conversations short but loaded with something unspoken. It was subtle—just the way his gaze lingered a little too long, or how his smile felt more personal when it was directed at me. I wasn’t sure if I was crazy–my immense crush on the multi-talented lead singer getting the best of me–or if he had noticed the same thing. The energy between us felt electric, charged with something we weren’t quite saying out loud.

One evening, after my home city show, I was sitting out on the stage–the venue completely empty. I was alone, staring out at the abandoned seats and floor, still able to feel the energy from less than a few hours ago. Letting out a deep sigh, I heard footsteps behind me. I turned to see Tyler standing there, hands in his hoodie pockets, his expression unreadable.

“Mind if I join you?” he asked softly.

I shook my head, patting the spot beside me. “Not at all.”

He sat down, close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating off him, the proximity making my heart race. We sat there in comfortable silence for a moment, the faint hum of the venue’s equipment the only sound. I could feel his eyes on me as I picked up my ukulele which was sitting next to me and started absentmindedly strumming a few chords.

“I didn’t get to say it earlier,” Tyler started, his voice quiet, like he wasn’t sure how much he wanted to reveal. “But… your performance today? It was incredible.”

I glanced over at him, biting back a smile. “I didn’t know you were watching.”

“I’m always watching,” he said, his gaze intense, sending a shiver down my spine.

I swallowed hard, trying to keep my cool, but it was impossible with the way he was looking at me. “I’m trying… I’m so worried that I’m gonna mess up and make a fool of myself in front of your fans.”

“You’re not and you won’t,” he said quickly, his eyes searching mine. “Far from it, actually. Last time I checked twitter they were talking about how much they love you.”

We fell into another heavy silence, the air between us thick with tension. My pulse was racing, and I felt like there were a million things I wanted to say, but none of them made sense in my head. Tyler shifted slightly, his knee brushing against mine, and even that small touch sent sparks through me.

“Is it weird,” I started slowly, my voice fragile, “that I feel like I’ve known you for longer than I have?”

The question clearly caught him off guard. His breath hitched, but I forced myself to stay calm. “No, it’s not weird,” he said, glancing down at the floor. “I feel that way too.” Tyler smiled, a small, almost shy smile that made my heart flutter.

“It’s just… I’ve been following your music for so long, and now that you’re here… I don’t know, it’s different.”

“Different how?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

I hesitated, his eyes flicking to my lips for just a second before I answered. “Better. Way better than I imagined.”

The air between us felt charged, like something was about to happen, but neither of us made the next move. I could feel the weight of his words settling into the space between us, making everything feel more real, more intense.

I had to break the tension before it swallowed me whole.

“Speaking of better,” I said, trying to lighten the mood but failing to mask the shakiness in my voice. “I was thinking of doing something special for tomorrow’s show.”

Tyler raised an eyebrow, curious. “What’s that?”

I glanced at him, feeling a rush of boldness as the idea solidified in my mind. “I was thinking… I’d cover one of your songs.”

His eyes widened, clearly surprised. “You’d cover one of our songs?”

“Yeah,” I said, biting my lip nervously.

Tyler blinked, taken aback, and for a moment I wondered if I’d gone too far. But then his expression softened, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Which song?” he smirked, laying back on the stage.

“Something off Trench, it’s not on your setlist if that’s what you’re worried about,” I laughed, joining him.

“Why?” he asked, his voice low, like he already knew the answer but wanted to hear me say it.

I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of what I was about to admit. “Because it’s personal. And I’ve listened to your music for so long. It’s always been a dream of mine to get to perform one of your songs live.”

For a second, the world seemed to stop. Tyler’s smile faded, replaced by something deeper, something I couldn’t quite read. His eyes searched mine, and I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, waiting for his response.

“You… you’d really do that?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah,” I said, my voice steady even though my nerves were all over the place. “I mean, if that’s okay with you.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment, just kept looking at me like he was trying to figure something out. Then, finally, he smiled—a real, genuine smile that made my breath catch.

“It’s more than okay,” he said softly. “I think it’s… perfect.”

The tension between us didn’t break; if anything, it intensified. But it was different now, like we’d crossed some invisible line, and there was no going back.

The next night, the arena was buzzing with energy. I could feel the excitement in the air as I took the stage, the fans screaming and cheering, completely unaware of the surprise I had in store.

After a few songs, I paused, taking a deep breath as I stepped up to the mic. The crowd quieted, waiting for what was next.

“How’re we doing tonight Seattle?” A roar of screams and cheers rang through the venue. “I’ve got a little surprise for you guys tonight," I said, my voice echoing through the speakers. “I’m going to do something I’ve never done before. I’m going to do a cover of a song that means so much to me. A song that a certain band didn’t put on their setlist this tour. Any guesses who I’m covering?” I laughed.

The crowd erupted into cheers, and I smiled, glancing toward the side of the stage where Tyler stood, watching me. Our eyes met, and I felt that familiar spark, the unspoken connection between us stronger than ever.

“You want to come up and play piano for this one Ty?” I asked, the crowd erupting in cheers. Tyler shook his head, hiding his face in his hands. “No? Oh come on, you know you want to. The sheet music’s up there…” I turned to the audience, “I haven’t told him what song I’m playing yet,” I laughed. “You sure you don’t wanna come play?” The fans started chanting for him to join me.

“Tyler! Tyler! Tyler!”

“Oh fine!” he shouted, his voice barely audible over the crowd. He climbed on stage and jogged over to the piano, shaking his head with an embarrassed smile. “You're really doing this, huh?” he teased as he adjusted the mic on the piano, sitting down with an exaggerated sigh. I walked over to him, turning the mic off for a second.

I grinned lightly as the energy of the crowd buzzed in the air. “Oh, I am definitely doing this. And you’re gonna enjoy it.”

Tyler's hands hovered over the keys, clearly waiting for the cue. “Smithereens? Really?” he laughed and I nodded, proud of myself. Tyler turned the mic back on as I waltzed back to my spot.

“Alright,” I said, glancing over at him. “This one’s for you Tyler.”

The crowd went wild, their reaction so loud it almost drowned out my words. Tyler chuckled into the mic, shaking his head again in disbelief, but his fingers were already on the keys, playing the opening melody. The soft, familiar notes filled the arena, and my heart started racing again, but for a different reason this time. This was personal. Intimate. And Tyler was right there, playing along with me.

I began singing, my voice steady but carrying all the emotion I had for the moment. I looked over at Tyler as I sang the words, and he glanced up, meeting my gaze for just a heartbeat. There was something in his eyes—something deeper than just admiration, something almost vulnerable. My chest tightened as I sang the next line, the weight of the song suddenly feeling more significant, more real than ever.

Tyler’s playing was flawless, but there was a hint of tension in his posture, like he was trying to keep something in check. I knew exactly how he felt; the energy between us was palpable, the tension from all those unspoken moments finally reaching a crescendo. The crowd sang along, but it was like they were in the background, as if this performance was happening in our own bubble. Just me and Tyler.

Every word felt like it was meant for him, and I couldn’t stop myself from looking at him between the lyrics, feeling the connection spark every time our eyes met. When I hit the chorus, the crowd sang so loud I almost couldn’t hear myself. Tyler grinned, his fingers dancing over the keys, the music swelling around us, and for a second, I forgot we were even on stage. It was just him and me, sharing this raw, unfiltered moment.

As the song came to a close, the final notes ringing out, I turned to face Tyler fully. His gaze was locked on mine, his expression unreadable but intense. The applause and cheers from the audience roared to life, but I barely heard them. Tyler stood up from the piano, slowly walking over to me, and without thinking, I pulled him into a tight hug. The crowd went wild again, their cheers reaching a fever pitch, but it was just background noise to the heartbeat pounding in my ears.

As Tyler wrapped his arms around me in a warm embrace, time seemed to stand still. The world outside faded into the background—the roar of the crowd turned into a distant hum as I buried my face in his shoulder, savoring the moment. His warmth enveloped me, grounding me in the excitement and emotion of what we had just shared.

When we finally pulled back, Tyler kept his hands on my shoulders, his gaze holding mine for just a moment longer than necessary. A shy, yet genuine smile played on his lips, and my heart fluttered. I could feel my cheeks heating up, but I couldn't look away from him.

“Thank you for that,” Tyler said, his voice low but filled with an intensity that made my heart race. “You were incredible.”

I nodded, still breathless. “I’m glad you liked it.”

“I didn’t just like it Y/N, it means more than just liking it,” he whispered into my ear.

The energy in the venue surged as I turned to the audience, their cheers echoing through the air. With a grin, I stepped back to the mic, trying to compose myself. “Wow, thank you, Seattle! You guys have been amazing tonight!” The crowd roared, and I took a deep breath, adrenaline coursing through my veins.

“This is the end of my set, but stick around because the real show is about to start! Twenty One Pilots is up next!” I waved to the fans, their cheers drowning out my words. “Thank you all so much! I love you!”

As I stepped away from the mic, Tyler clapped a hand on my back, leading me off stage. The moment we were out of view from the audience, the energy shifted. Tyler turned to me, his expression more serious, and I could see a mix of admiration and something deeper in his eyes.

“You made that song come alive in a way I never expected. You’re something else aren’t you?” he said, stepping closer, the air thick with unspoken words.

I chuckled, shrugging slightly and running a hand through my hair. “I just felt right to play,” I admitted, heart pounding. “It means a lot to me, Tyler.”

He took a step closer, his voice dropping to a soft, intimate whisper. “You’re more than just a talented artist, Y/N. You’re something else entirely. That performance made me realize how lucky I am to have you on this tour. And honestly?” He paused, searching my eyes, the tension palpable. “It just further confirmed how I feel about you, not just as an artist, but as a person.”

My breath caught in my throat, a rush of warmth flooding through me at his words. “I admire you too, Tyler. You and Josh have been a huge inspiration to me.”

Tyler smiled, a soft, genuine smile that made my heart race. “No, really. That was more than just a performance to me. It felt personal. There’s something here, between us.”

I nodded, my heart pounding in my chest as I took a step closer to him. “I feel it too. I’ve been trying to figure out how to say it.”

He brushed a thumb over my cheek, his gaze unwavering. “Then let’s not overthink it. I’m here, you’re here, we clearly both feel something for each other,” he brushed a strand of hair that had fallen into my face behind my ear. “Every time you look at me, it’s like you see straight through to my soul.”

I swallowed hard, his words washing over me. “I could say the same about you.”

“Good,” he replied, his voice deepening. “Because I want to explore whatever this is between us. I want to see where it leads.”

With the distance between us closing, I felt the thrill of the moment, the intensity of his words and the warmth of his presence enveloping me. I wanted to lean in, to let him know just how much I felt, but the excitement and nervousness tangled together in a way that made me hesitant.

Tyler stepped forward, closing the gap even further. “Y/N,” he murmured, his voice soft, yet commanding. “You’ve got to know that every word of that song was a reflection of how I feel about you. It might not have been written with anyone in mind but it’s exactly how I feel about you. And I’ve been waiting for the right moment to tell you how much you mean to me.”

Before I could respond, he leaned in, his lips brushing against mine, sending sparks of electricity through my entire being. The kiss was soft, yet filled with an undeniable passion, and in that moment, everything else faded away. All the worries, the nerves—everything was drowned out by the intensity of his kiss.

When we finally pulled apart, breathless, he smiled down at me, his expression both playful and serious. “I think I’m going to enjoy this tour a lot more now.”

I laughed, the tension lifting as I felt lighter, happier than I had in a long time. “Me too, Tyler. Me too.” I held onto his hand, brushing my thumb over the back of his hand. “Now, you’re supposed to go on in 10 minutes so you should probably go find Josh.”

“Oh damn you’re right,” he looked up at the clock on the wall noticing the time. He started down the hall in the direction of their dressing room but stopped to turn back towards me. “I–We–We’re going out after the show, okay?”

I nodded, letting out a quiet chuckle. “I’ll come find you. But you really need to go,” I smiled.

“I really need to go,” he repeated, looking slightly sad that he had to leave. And with that, he walked back into his dressing room, the excitement of the night still crackling in the air.

REQUESTS ARE ALWAYS OPEN TEAM!

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