#Killer Queen - Fic
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Killer Queen | Eddie Munson x Reader
♥ Summary: It was supposed to be a quick job. A simple kill, like many before it. You just didn’t account for someone stealing it from you- nor did you expect that someone to be too pretty to kill. [Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader]
♥ Warnings: 18+, minors and ageless blogs dni. violence, murder, death of a minor character, brief mention of death during childbirth & miscarriage unrelated to the reader, arranged marriage to someone other than eddie, oral (f receiving), biting, pwp (that mostly kicks in at the end tbh, and even then the plot is going sideways) fantasy assassins au, enemies to lovers
♥ A/N: get ready for this fuckin thing
♥ Word count: 6895
Part 1, Part 2,
♥♥♥
What is death? Is it the simple end of life, the silence of a stopped heart and lungs that have ceased to breathe? Is it a bright light at the end of a long dark tunnel? Is it dark? Is it empty? Is it a soft twisting thing that wraps its limbs around the dying to pull them gently away from life? Or is it a classic grim reaper, with skulls and bones and a sharp rusted scythe?
To most people, death could be anything. To you, though, death was an old friend. No, that was too familiar- to you, death was a coworker.
And today, death was fucking late.
The taste of iron spilled through your mouth as you worried your teeth between your lips. The stone wall behind your shoulders had long since lost its chill. A few feet away from you, a lord sat at a grand table, plotting away over a map. Servants and advisors fluttered around him in an odd dance, performing their subordination to the best of their ability. You could almost appreciate that- but more than anything, you needed them to leave.
You needed to kill the lord. Preferably alone. Preferably fast.
You’d been in the right position just minutes before. During a brief respite where the room’s occupants had spilled out into the vast hallways of the manor, you had your shot. Death was in your hands- a precise weapon, ready to strike. Then you missed. A servant boy with tangled hair wrapped in a messy bun had come in, carrying a serving of tea. After that, you had to wait. You did not care for that shit at all.
You had nothing against the lord on a personal level. In fact, you barely knew his name. This was a mundanity for you. A job. A murder by order of your boss. Your king. You just didn’t like waiting. Neither did your knife- the metal of your blade pressed hard against your thigh, hungry and pleading. Nevertheless, you just had to stand there and watch the lord sip on his tea and plot over a map.
And then the lord collapsed.
You jolted at the sound of fine china smashing as the teacup fell from the lord’s grasp to the floor below. His face was flat against his desk, eyes open but unseeing. The room fell silent for the briefest moment. Someone moved forward- an advisor, if you remembered right. Their hand wrapped around the lord’s wrist, feeling for a pulse. With a shake of their head, they announced the man’s death. Chaos ensued.
Servants gasped and maids screamed. People gathered around the lord, poking and prodding and shaking the man’s body, trying to rouse the recently deceased. It looked like death had been on time for work after all. You just hadn’t seen them come in.
Or had you? From the corner of your eye, you noticed the same long-haired servant that brought the lord his tea sneak out of the room. Without thinking, you slipped away after him, giving just enough care to make sure you weren’t being followed.
The servant took a winding, wandering path through the manor’s halls. His lithe form sped through the house, gaining speed as panic over the lord’s death spread through every corridor and stairwell. Had you not been following his cloud of messy dark hair so closely, you were sure you would have lost sight of him entirely.
Finally, he ducked past a large oak door, into a study that you knew to be empty most of the time. You wondered if he knew that. Refusing to dwell on it for long, you darted in after him, skirt swishing around your legs as you slid into the room.
In seconds, your back was against the wall. The servant boy was deceptively strong, keeping your wrists pinned above your head with a single hand. He kept his other hand clamped over your mouth, silencing you. You struggled, but it got you nowhere. The man before you held you fast. You were trapped, completely unable to move- and entirely able to take in the face of your assailant.
His eyes were wide, honey brown and warm like the evening sun. There was a wildness to them, though you couldn’t tell if it was from fear or excitement. His skin was smooth, pale like porcelain, and marked with the faintest freckles and faded scars. The messy hair you’d identified him by hung in his eyes, curling around his face like a halo.
He was beautiful. And, if you were right, he had stolen your kill. Fucker.
“Apologies, fair lady,” he murmured, “But I’m not going anywhere that you can follow.”
His voice was just as pretty as the rest of him. It was soft and gentle, and ever so slightly strained, betraying his stress. For a moment, you just watched as his lips wrapped around every word.
“Now, I’d be happy to let you go, but I can’t have you screaming on me, can I?”
You stayed still, refusing to look away from his big brown eyes. He tilted his head, examining you in return.
“I’ll make you a deal, princess. I’ll let you out of here if you keep quiet,” he raised an eyebrow at you, waiting for a response. You didn’t give him one.
“C’mon, princess. This is a once-in-a-lifetime deal I’m offering here.”
You still didn’t respond.
“God, you’re killing me here. Look, I-”
He didn’t get to finish that sentence. Before he could, you brought your foot down on his, twisting in his hold to free yourself. Once you were free, you used his surprise to pin him to the nearest flat surface- the study’s desk. His chest was pressed against the mahogany, and his arms were wrenched tightly behind his back.
“You were saying?” you asked, trying not to be too smug.
“How did you-?”
You cut him off again, “Hey, speaking of killing, what was it that you slipped Lord Kline?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, come on. Was it nightshade? Cyanide? Don’t worry, pretty boy, you can tell me,” you put more of your weight onto him, pressing him into the desk even harder than before. He let out a little moan, and you had to hide the way your breath hitched at the sound.
“Okay,” his voice shook slightly, though he tried desperately to hide the tremor, “Maybe you do know what you're talking about.”
“Mhmm,” you spared a hand, reaching up to play with a strand of his long dark hair- both to intimidate him and out of pure curiosity. Like his voice and eyes, it was softer than you’d expected. You leaned in closer, lips nearing his ear, “I almost respect it, y’know? That thing with the poison, you’re just waiting for the man to croak. I was waiting for an opening to attack.”
He struggled against you, but you held him fast. The metal of your blade pressed against the skin of your thigh. You could feel your second weapon- another, smaller blade- digging into your sternum. You had no doubt that he could feel both weapons pressing into him. You kind of liked it- that silent threat.
“I would’ve had him, y’know? I had a tiny window of opportunity to kill him. But then you just had to come in with the tea and-”
This time, he cut you off. He turned in your grasp, his arms clutching your biceps before he pushed you back and turned the both of you, pushing you into the desk. You could feel the edge of it hard against your spine. A whimper of discomfort escaped you. He had the audacity to look pleased.
“Alright princess, just so we’re clear,” he stepped back from you slowly, letting his hands trace down your arms until he was just barely touching you. You moved to get up, but you were far, far too slow. In seconds, he was on you again- one arm lying lengthwise across your shoulders, and one hand flat against the bottom of your ribs.
“Don’t move. Just wait.”
This time, you did as he asked, watching as he stepped back and raised his hands as if in surrender. He moved slowly, acting as if you were some wild and feral creature he had to appease. That wasn’t too far from the truth. One of his hands slipped past the collar of his shirt, pulling a small bottle of dark, thick liquid from beneath the fabric. Next, he moved a hand to his pocket, pulling out another, similar bottle from it.
“Just so we’re clear, this is all I’ve got on me,” he put the bottles back in their places, “What about you, princess?”
You leapt back up, “Call me princess one more time-”
He met your fists in the air, where they were raised to attack him. Tipping your momentum against you, he shoved you back against the desk, once again pinning your wrists.
“Goddamnit- do not make me tie you up.”
You growled at him. He had the good sense to pull back slightly- if he got too close, you would absolutely bite him.
“Okay, please do not take this the wrong way. I promise I’m not going to hurt you, but-” his hand went under your skirt, tracing up your leg to your thigh. You let out a short scream, kicking at him on instinct as the feeling of his calloused fingers on your skin burned itself into your memory. He pulled away quickly, your blade in his hands. As he’d promised, you were unharmed.
But you were pissed.
“Oh, you motherfucker,” you reached down your shirt, seizing your second blade and lunging at him. He countered with the weapon you’d kept at your thigh with ease- though in all fairness, that was the bigger blade.
“Hey, wait-” you cut off his protests, taking another stab at him. He managed to doge, but if you had your way, he wouldn’t keep his skin intact for long
“You will not,” you threw yourself forward, swinging the knife at his arm and slicing the fabric of his shirt, “Touch me again. Do you understand?”
“Look, you have my apologies, my lady. I am deeply sorry,” he paused to block another attack from you, “But you can see why I was so eager to disarm you.”
You growled again, shoving him against the wall and burying your blade in the space beside his head.
“Wait,” he asked, “You can see it, right?”
You reached down, taking the longer blade from his hand and bringing it up to press it against his throat.
“Fuck. You,” your voice was low and sharp, terrifying, even to you.
“Look, I’m sorry-” he choked out, “I swear to God, I’m sorry.”
“You’ll be able to swear to God’s face in a second-”
“Wait! Wait,” he reached up to his shirt again, pulling it open and exposing the little bottle he’d shown you before. It was tied around his neck with a leather cord, “I disarmed you. It’s only fair that you do the same to me.”
You glared at him for a second before remembering the second bottle in his pocket. You reached down.
You tried not to revel in his shocked gasp or the way his hips slammed into the wall behind him. You tried very hard not to revel. You failed just a little bit, smiling as you took the bottle and the larger sword.
Turning the poison in your hand, your smile grew. You weren’t exactly happy, but you did appreciate the gesture. You just wondered what the hell was in your hand.
“Thank you,” you breathed, holding the bottle up to the light before turning back to face the servant boy, “I, uh. I appreciate it. Thank you.”
He nodded, bringing a hand to his throat, “It was the least I could do.”
An awkward silence fell over the study. You shook the bottle slightly, watching as the black substance swirled around.
“Hey, going back to my other question,” you held up the bottle, “What is this?”
He reached out for the olive branch you’d extended and opened his mouth to answer, only to be cut off once again by the sound of footsteps coming down the hall.
“Shit,” you whispered, tucking the poison into your pocket.
“Shit,” he grabbed your knife and pulled it from the wall. His eyes were on you- wide, and pretty, and desperate for an escape from the doomed ship you’d both climbed onto when you shut yourselves in this cursed study.
You searched the room for a way out. The windows didn’t open, and the desk wouldn’t hide either of you. A tall, sturdy cabinet stood beside the servant boy. If the two of you stood close together- perhaps uncomfortably close- you just might fit.
Without another thought, you grabbed his wrist with your free hand. You threw open the cabinet door and pushed the boy inside, thanking whatever god was out there that the thing was empty. You pushed yourself in after him, pulling the doors shut behind you just as the study door clicked open.
To his credit, the servant boy kept his hands to himself- or at least he tried. When the voices drew nearer and you practically jumped into his arms. Your back pressed into his chest. One of his hands moved to your shoulder, turning you away from the doors. Your nails bit into his arm, fingers slipping through the cut in the fabric that you made.
“Holy shit,” he whispered, voice so low that only you could hear, “Holy shit.”
“Shut up,” you turned your head as far as you could, “You’re gonna get us caught.”
“Sorry.”
You let out the quietest sigh you could muster before silencing yourself, straining to hear the voices outside. You could just barely hear them- two men, saying something about the king and how he would react to the lord’s death. The irony of it all almost distracted you from the increasing volume of the voices. One of them said something about the cabinet.
In a moment of panic, you turned, pressing yourself further into the boy’s space.
“I’m sorry,” you whispered, “This is going against everything we just established.”
“What-?”
You didn’t answer him. You just leaned up and let your lips meet his. The cabinet doors swung open.
Light streamed in from the study. You shut your eyes tightly, moving your hands up to the boy’s shoulders. His body tensed up beneath your touch. Deep in your chest, your heart pounded violently against your ribs. Heat pooled in the pit of your stomach. Guilt leaked into you, rushing through your veins until you felt his shaky touch at your waist. Your grip on him tightened.
You could hear the men gasp quietly, swearing and slamming the cabinet shut before you even had the chance to turn and face them. You heard the study door open and slam closed before you could even begin to pull away from the boy in front of you.
Once you did, you left your hands on his shoulders. He kept his at your sides. You both stared into the darkness at the approximation of where the other’s face would be.
You stayed like that for five whole minutes, floating in a dark universe, running through time and space until you finally came back to your body.
The second you did, you slammed the doors open and jumped outside, gasping as if you’d been deprived of air. The servant followed suit, stumbling out of the cabinet, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the light.
You collapsed on the chair behind the desk, burying your face in your hands as the boy planted himself on the desk across from you. You sat in silence for a few more minutes, basking in the awkward air that filled the room.
“I uh,” you looked up at him, still hiding most of your face behind your hands, “I think that makes us even.”
“So it would seem, fair lady.”
You took a deep breath. He didn’t know your name. He knew nothing about you, and you knew nothing about him, and still, the memory of his soft lips on yours had carved its way into your brain. You shook your head, as if you could physically dispel the thought.
You stood, heading to the cabinet and grabbing the bigger of your two weapons. You turned it in your hand, examining the blade for a moment before you turned back to the man. You cleared your throat.
“Well then, pretty boy,” you took a step towards the door, giving your blade a bit of a spin, “Let’s hope that you’re better at finding your way out of here than you are at kissing.”
You reached for the doorknob, but his offended gasp cut you off. You didn’t turn to face him. You didn’t want him to see the pleased grin on your face.
“Just what are you implying, my lady?”
“I didn’t really imply anything. I just said it.”
Another offended gasp. You had to bite your lip to avoid laughing.
“Well, given the situation,” he planted a hand against the door near your head, “I don’t think I was half bad. You on the other hand-”
You finally turned to face him, “Me?”
“Yes, you, princess. That thing in the cabinet- you call that a kiss?”
“Do you, pretty boy?”
He scoffed, dropping his jaw to try and hide his smile. He failed.
“How dare you. I’ll have you know that I’m an excellent kisser.”
“You aren’t,” you crossed your arms, leaning back against the door with a grin of your own, “I know. I’ve kissed you.”
“So you would call that a kiss!”
You rolled your eyes as he kept talking, “My fair lady, that was not a kiss, that was-”
“Do you think anyone else is gonna come in here?”
“Pardon?”
“After those two saw us kissing, do you think anyone else will come in here?”
He paused for a minute, looking between you and the door before he answered, “I think they’ll all be busy with the dead lord.”
“Good. Kiss me, then.”
His eyes widened and his eyebrows raised, flying up past his bangs. His mouth opened and closed a few times, making him look like a very attractive fish.
“Excuse me?”
“You’re talking yourself up so high, I wanna see if the real thing can match it. Look, I’ll even make you a deal,” you pushed off of the door, making your way back to the cabinet. The bottle of poison he’d let you take was sitting at the bottom next to the shorter knife. They must have fallen when you’d crammed yourselves in there. You scooped them both into your grasp, taking one in each hand.
“A deal?”
A deal,” you held the weapons out to him, “If you can convince me that you’re an ‘excellent kisser’ then I’ll give you your poison back, and you can take Melissa.”
“Melissa?”
“That’s the knife.”
He nodded sagely before shutting back up, letting you continue, “However, if you suck, like I think you will-” he gasped, once again sounding terribly offended, “I get to take the poison. And Melissa.”
“I’ll take that bet,” he took a step towards you, “Melissa’s gonna love her new home.”
“Yeah?” you matched his steps until the two of you were face to face, “I’m gonna use your poisons to add a little kick to my blades.”
“I’m not gonna lie, that’s insanely attractive.”
“Then kiss me, pretty boy.”
He stared at you for a moment, his sweet brown eyes darting between your lips and your amused gaze. A shit-eating grin had immediately crossed its way onto your face, and you watched as his expression changed to mirror yours.
Slowly, he reached down and slid the weapons away from your grasp. He placed them on the desk behind him and turned towards you. There was a second of silence- the calm before the storm, before the world shifted on its axis and sent you spiraling.
He took your face in his hands, pulling you in close with both intensity and gentleness. His skin was warm, his fingers calloused, and you wanted to melt right into him.
“You sure about this, princess?”
“Are you, sweetheart?”
He smiled, brushing over your cheek with his thumb, “My name is Eddie. Eddie Munson.”
Eddie Munson. It suited him- it fit his sweet brown eyes and tangled dark hair. You liked it, more than you would care to admit. But you couldn’t deny it was probably a bad idea for him to tell you what it was.
“You’d give your name so freely?”
He shrugged, “I figured I’d give you something to moan while I kiss you- something other than ‘pretty boy’.”
“Moan? That’s presumptuous. It’s more likely that you’ll be screaming my-”
He silenced you again, not with a hand over your mouth, but with a kiss. A shocked sound escaped you before you leaned into him, moving your lips against his. Your hands ran up his chest, grasping his shirt in your fists. The fabric was softer than you expected it to be, not that you could ponder it for long.
His hands left your face, venturing down to the back of your neck. His fingers traced down your spine, making you shiver and press your body into his. You could feel him smirk against you at the small victory. You refused to let him win.
You let your hands run up and over his shoulders, threading your fingers into his hair and freeing it from the messy bun he’d put it in. As the strands spilled over his shoulders, you ran your tongue over his bottom lip. Immediately, he let you in, and you explored him thoroughly- an odd sensation since you knew nothing about Eddie Munson other than his name, and he knew even less about you.
Just as you’d started working Eddie into a bit of a state, you pulled back. You took a quick second to catch your breath and savour the sweet whine he let out before you spoke.
You told him your name.
And then you said it again, telling him that it was your name, because he looked a little confused.
“Ah, thank you for clarifying, I thought you might’ve been talking about your other sword.”
“Oh my god, do you ever shut up?”
He laughed a little, putting a hand on your waist and pulling you closer to him, “Oh, princess. If you want me to shut up, you’re gonna have to make me.”
You glared up at him, internally cursing his pretty face as you twisted your fingers in his hair before giving it a gentle tug. He leaned his head back, moving with your fist and exposing his throat as he let out a soft, low moan.
Stretching up, you attacked his neck, kissing every spot you could reach. You pulled his soft, pale skin between your teeth, leaving small, purple bruises in your wake. Your body caught fire as his breath hitched. His grip on your waist tightened, fingers digging into your sides as you found a particularly sensitive spot over his pulse point.
“Is this good enough?” you purred, voice low, “Am I making you?”
He whimpered. You took that, combined with his silence as a yes.
The leather cord around his neck brushed against your lips, reminding you of the prize waiting for you at the end of this game. With that in mind, you pressed your body further into his, forcing him to back up against the desk.
“That’s it pretty boy,” you gave his hair another tug, “You’re being so good for me.”
His hands moved up your back, shaking as they went. You had him right where you wanted him. Honestly, you were almost surprised at how easy this had been- he’d talked such a big game only to turn to putty in your hands the second your lips touched his neck. You just had to keep going and the bet was yours. His pride was yours.
“Keep it up, honey. You’re winning this goddamn deal for me.”
“Oh, am I?” his voice was weak, shaking and betraying his desperation- but there was something hidden in his tone, something devious.
Eddie moved a hand away from your back. You pulled back slightly, watching as he turned and swept the dusk clean of clutter. Ink and books fell to the ground with a crash. You tightened your grip on Eddie with one hand and covered your mouth with the other- a weak attempt to cover your shocked gasp.
“Eddie, someone will hear us!”
“They’ll be distracted, princess. They have a dead body on their hands. But,” he seized your hips in his hands and turned you until he had taken your place, and your back was against the desk, “If they do hear someone, it’ll be you.”
He wasn’t wrong. In the next second, you let out a sharp squeak as you went from standing to lying on the desk. Eddie hovered over you, a wicked grin overtaking his features as he stole control of the situation from you.
“Is this alright, fair lady?”
You rolled your eyes, turning your face away from him to hide your smile, “It’s just fine, pretty boy. It’s not enough to win the deal, but-”
Ignoring you, Eddie leaned forward, bringing his lips to the column of your throat and biting down gently. You weren’t sure how he’d managed to find such a sensitive spot in one try, but he had, and you were forced to cut yourself off with a breathy and embarrassing moan.
Maybe you didn’t have this bet in the bag.
Shaking slightly despite your every effort, you let your hands run up over Eddie’s back as he kissed the delicate skin of your neck, running his tongue and teeth over every sweet spot he could find. Your breath came faster as he moved a hand to your waist, keeping the other by your head to brace himself.
Curses escaped your lips as he moved lower, kissing every part of you that your maid uniform didn’t cover. His feather-light touch burned across your chest, across your arms, your neck, and face. Want pooled between your thighs, and you had to bite your lip to keep from moaning. Whatever he did, whatever came next, you could not let him win.
And then he pulled back.
Immediately you sat up, chasing his warmth, though you wouldn't even admit that to yourself. Before you could question him, he was moving, taking your longer sword from where it had fallen. He looked at the blade, tilting his head to admire it before he got to his feet again- advancing on you with the weapon.
You straightened up immediately, looking for something to throw at him- to fight him with. You had just settled on a nice, heavy book when he knelt on the ground in front of you. The next thing you felt was his touch on your ankle. You shot up to look at him, only to meet his wide eyes peering back up at you.
“I took this from you. Figured I’d give it back.”
“And you don’t plan to ‘give it back’ by putting it inside of me?” Blood rushed to your face as you registered the innuendo.
Eddie paused, looking both shocked and pleased, and maybe even pitying, “I-”
“Wait, no-” you began, but he drowned out your words with a laugh, “Hey, stop laughing-”
“Maybe later, princess. For now, I was just thinking that this,” he pressed the flat of your blade to your leg, “Could go back where it belongs.”
You hummed quietly, looking down at Eddie with a deep curiosity in your eyes- and a deep lust. His hand remained in its place at your ankle, his thumb gently stroking over your skin. Somewhere, far off in your mind, you captured that feeling and saved it. You couldn’t remember the last time someone, anyone, had been so gentle with you.
Without another word, you moved your skirt out of his way. His eyes widened, silently asking for a clearer answer. You smirked and leaned forward, slipping your hand to the back of his neck as you gave him a sure but quiet, “Yes.”
A smile crept across his lips as his hand slid up your leg. As his touch moved higher, you let yourself lie across the desk. You kept one hand tangled in your skirt, letting the other roam up to your chest. You let out a soft gasp as Eddie left a kiss on the inside of your knee. When he sunk his teeth into your thigh, your back arched up off the mahogany. Lust sped through your body like an electric current. You would deny it if he asked, but your body wanted him. Every part of you screamed for him to touch you properly- every part of you but your voice. No matter what your flesh craved, your mind would not let you lose this bet.
You sat back up, trying to free yourself from your own desire. You watched as Eddie moved his touch higher, sliding your blade back into its place. His touch lingered, his fingers inches from where you needed them to be. His gaze met yours again.
You were gonna lose this goddamned bet.
You moved your leg up, letting Eddie’s hands guide you into place. Your knee hooked perfectly over his shoulder. His lips met your skin again, leaving bruises all the way from your ankle to the inside of your thigh. He was so close, so very close to where you wanted him.
“Eddie-”
“Does Melissa have any specific care instructions?”
You didn’t bother to meet his quip with one of your own. You just leaned forward, moving your hands back to his neck and pulling him closer. Your fingers tangled with the leather cord knotted there.
“Oh god,” you whispered, loosening the leather tie, “Please, touch me, Eddie.”
“As you wish, sweetheart.”
Two of his fingers pressed against your clothed but dripping entrance. He moved them slowly, stroking up and down and watching as your body tensed in anticipation. You bit your tongue to keep from moaning as he sped up his movements.
“God, you’re so wet for me,” he whispered, “I think this means I won.”
“Does-” you cut yourself off with a shaky breath as he added a little more pressure, “Does that really matter right now?”
He shrugged, “It makes me feel good.”
“You got the kill, you’re getting a knife, you get to gloat,” the leather knot came undone, “What more could you want?”
“A taste of you.”
Oh, fuck, yeah, you lost. Bringing a hand to his chin, you tilted his head, making him meet your eyes. Brushing your thumb across his cheek, you whispered, “As you wish, sweetheart.”
Immediately, he moved your panties to the side, exposing your soaked cunt to him. His expression was so hungry- almost craving. How long had it been since someone craved you? Eddie took your hips in his hands and moved forward, letting his tongue circle around your clit before he moved down, teasing your entrance. A current of pleasure ran through you like electricity.
You could feel your world unravel as Eddie’s lips moved against you. Stars clouded your vision as he toyed with you, making you moan his name with only his tongue. At your sides, his fingers clenched and unclenched, digging into you before releasing. The sensation was strangely calming- and it only made you want him more. It took all of your physical and mental power to keep yourself from thrusting into his face.
You failed.
“That’s it, pretty girl, that’s it,” he murmured against your skin. The vibrations nearly made you scream, and that was to say nothing of the praise, “You taste so sweet.”
One of his hands moved down, away from your hip and over your thigh and right to your throbbing clit. His fingers circled and stroked, and you cried out, voice high and desperate. Sparks burst beneath your skin as he toyed with the bundle of nerves. You could feel him smile against your skin.
He reached down further, tongue and fingers switching spots. His lips wrapped around your clit as one of his fingers dipped inside your dripping entrance. You moaned, walls clenching around the digit as he slowly added a second.
Eddie pulled back slightly, lips dripping with your arousal. You could hear him panting, feel his breath against your cunt, “So tight,” he whispered, “You’re perfect.”
“Th-thank you.”
He laughed and kissed the inside of your thigh, dampening your skin before he returned his mouth to your clit. His fingers sunk deeper into you, curling slightly to hit every sweet spot they could find.
It didn’t take long for you to come completely undone under his touch- under his mouth. You found yourself clinging to his shoulders, wrapping your legs around him as your body shook with pleasure. It was more than safe to say he’d won the goddamned bet.
He pulled away from you slowly, moving both his hands to stroke your thighs. Slowly, you moved your hands to cover his. The study fell into a nearly surreal peace as you sat there with him, waiting for your body to cool down.
“So,” he broke the silence, “I guess I won the bet?”
“You did,” you panted, “You very much did.”
Eddie stood, holding his hands out for you to take. You needed them. When you stood, your legs shook almost violently, and even with your hands in his, you still collapsed into his chest. He remained blissfully silent, not mocking you even though it would’ve been easy to do so.
When you spoke again, it was into his shirt, “So. Melissa is yours.”
“Thank you, fair lady,” you could feel the vibrations of his voice through his chest, and God, you just wanted to stay there forever.
Soon enough, your senses came back to you.
You knelt to the ground at his feet, picking up the knife where it had fallen- and the bottle of poison you’d freed from around his throat. Before you stood, you tucked later away in a pocket, hiding it from his sight. When you stood, you met his eyes.
Just as you had thought before, they were beautiful. Huge and dark and warm- and you were sure you would never see them again. You didn’t look away from him as you handed him the blade.
“Take care of her,” you whispered, “Okay?”
“As you wish, princess.”
You let out a breath of a laugh at the nickname, fixing your skirts as you finally broke eye contact. The bottle of poison was a reassuring weight in the fabric. As you walked away from him, you reached for it.
“Well, Mr. Munson, this has been… exhilarating. Thank you for the challenge. And for taking my kill. And,” you turned the doorknob, cracking open the door, “Thanks for the poison.”
You pulled the bottle from your pocket showing him your prize as you slipped away from him. His eyes widened and his lips- still shiny with your arousal- parted. Shock appeared to paralyze him as you disappeared out the door, rushing off into the manor, and into the night.
–
Your trip home was honestly a little bit awkward. Your arousal coated your inner thighs. You couldn’t take a step without thinking of Eddie Munson- of his head between your legs, of his hands on your hips, of his mouth on yours. It was actually very annoying.
Not only had that man made you cum, he’d stolen your damn kill. And he’d taken Melissa from you. True, you had wagered her off, and he’d won fair and square, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t be irritated about it. At the very least, you had stolen the poison from him. That, you counted as a win. Your fingers ran over the cool glass bottle until your home finally came into view.
It was goddamn weird to call the palace home. In many ways, that wasn’t what it was. In the long term, you had no plans to stay, and you had no personal connections, but you lived there. The castle walls housed you, so the word “home” would suffice. It was just one of the many “perks” that came with being a royal assassin.
Another perk was your soft, comfortable bed- and given the day's events, you wanted to get to it as soon as possible. You crept over the palace gate, and silently swept through the gardens, preferring to be neither seen nor heard by anyone if you didn’t have to. Using the secret entrance in the East wing- an old servant’s corridor that had gone out of use years ago- you slipped inside and headed not for your room, but for the chamber of the king’s advisor, Lord Brenner. Tired as you were, you still had a report to make.
At this hour, the halls were mostly empty. Most of the servants were either asleep or preparing for all the shit they would have to do tomorrow. You were, unfortunately, still handling your shit from today.
You knocked quietly on the advisor’s door, and you did not wait for a response before you pushed it open. That was a bit of a mistake- or at least you thought it was. The room was half-full, despite the dark sky outside and the near-abandoned hallways. Brenner, servants, and other courtiers sat and stood in various places- and now all of them were looking at you.
Silence filled the room. When your eyes fell to the advisor, he cleared his throat and stood, making his way towards you.
“My dear, if you would join me outside for just a moment- I believe we have much to discuss.”
That felt like an understatement. With one last look around the room, you followed Brenner outside and into the still-empty corridor. The wretched silence continued.
With every passing minute, you grew desperate to make it stop- so you did.
“Lord Kline is dead.”
“Oh? Good. Excellent work.”
“I-” you paused for a moment, “I wish I could take credit. Another assassin took his life before I could.”
“Oh? Oh. Well, that will happen upon occasion. Did you happen to catch the assassin’s name?”
He was calmer than you’d expected. A sense of unease spread through you. You shifted your balance, trying to pull away from the advisor as subtly as you could.
“I didn’t. I only saw him flee from the room. I never got the chance to get a name, but I’m sure he was responsible.”
“Ah. Alas.”
Another period of silence fell, frustrating you beyond measure. Your footsteps echoed through the hallways, each step sounding like cannonfire. The chirping of the insect life outside could practically be heard through the windows. Each sound that was not the advisor’s voice brought your fists into a tighter clench.
“My lord,” you broke the silence, “You said there was something that we needed to discuss?”
The man paused, looking up not at you, but at one of the castle’s large stained-glass windows. You kind of wanted to throw him through it.
“I trust you know the fate of the King’s beloved wife?”
It was your turn to pause. Of course you knew that poor woman’s fate- she’d been brutally assassinated while visiting a neighboring country- and she had only been the latest wife. The woman before her had met a similar fate, as had the woman before her. Before that, another wife had died in childbirth- her child was lost soon after, and-
In short, the king had really shitty luck with his wives.
“I’m aware.”
Brenner let his hand trace over the window sill, pressing his fingers to the cool stone, “The King seeks another bride. One who can protect herself- who can give him strong heirs.”
Dread pooled in your stomach.
You didn’t like where this was headed- working as a royal assassin was one thing. It allowed you to get by, and it allowed you to get closer to your true goal, but this? The unsaid proposal on the advisor’s lips was a death sentence. It would destroy all your plans, all of the work you had done to get here-
“You are, it would seem, a woman who can protect herself.”
No. No, no, no, no, no, no. This went against everything. This ruined everything. You needed your freedom- the ability to move around, to plot and scheme, to contact your mentor, to breathe-
“So, it appears, my lady, that you have a proposal.”
This couldn’t be happening. Your breath came hard and fast in your chest. Dark spots clouded your vision. You were supposed to kill the king, not marry him.
“And I’m afraid the King has already decided.”
You couldn’t say no.
With the poison bottle weighing heavy in your pocket, you looked up to meet the advisor’s eyes. Blood roared in your ears. For the second time that day, your legs began to shake.
“I-” you tried to draw in a breath. You had no choice, “I accept.”
#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson fic#x reader#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson x fem!reader#killer queen fic
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Brian: How do I ask someone out?
Freddie: Roses are red, violets are blue, my bed is so empty without you.
Brian: No.
Roger: Twinkle twinkle little star, we can do it in my car.
Brian: Stop.
John: Row, row, row your boat gently down the stream, merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily I can make you scream.
Roger: ...
Freddie: ...
Brian: Now that is verging dangerously into serial killer territory.
#incorrect quotes#Queen band#you all remember serial killer deaky fics#god I hope you don't lol#but this reminded me
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I have officially written 145 fics for the Killer and Healer fandom so now I am taking a break until the new year. Updates will still commence as usual but any new stories will have to wait until the new year.
#sass talks#Killer and Healer#i'm not called the queen of killer and healer for nothing#but i think it's time for me to take a break#will still update/work on existing fics#but any new fics will be posted during the new year
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Flash Fic Ideas/Prompts
(Most of these contain Mark Blaine bc I really liked him and thought they could have done more with his character).
AU – After getting fired from Ivo Labs, Mark gets a job at Tannhauser.
Barry/Mark Blaine
It's Take Your Kid to Work Day at SCPD. Barry takes Nora.
Mark babysits Nora.
Mark gets injured in the field by taking a hit for one of the team. (H/C)
Mark gets sick. (H/C)
Mark talking to Cecile while he was gone.
Mark's past
Post 7x07 AU – What if the icicle knicked Mark's intestine? He goes into septic shock. Frost begins to realize she might care for him more than she's willing to admit.
Post Crisis on Infinite Earths – Joe realizes he was wrong about Oliver all these years.
Slight AU future fic – Barry and Iris have a third kid, a boy. They name him Oliver.
Team Flash finds out Mark has pyrophobia.
The Red Death and her Rogues torture Mark
AU – What if Mark moonlighted as a stripper after getting fired from Ivo Labs bc just being a bartender wasn't enough to pay the bills?
AU –What if Mark was the one to fight Deathstorm? Maybe he has a latent meta gene that he didn't know about, or maybe Carla helped him give himself real ice meta powers so that Frost wouldn't be in danger?
What was going through Mark's head after being possessed by the negative speed force?
Moonlight x-over: What if Mark moonlighted (pun intended) as a Freshie after getting fired from Ivo Labs because just being a bartender wasn't enough to pay the bills?
Supernatural x-over: What if Mark worked at The Roadhouse instead of O'Shaughnessy's?
#moonlight cbs#cbs moonlight#cw flash#the flash#flash cw#the flash cw#barry allen#iris west#joe west#nora west allen#oliver queen#crisis on infinite earths#mark blaine#cecile horton#frost snow#frost x mark#killer frost x chillblaine#fan fic ideas#fanfiction ideas#fanfic ideas#crossover#supernatural#cw supernatural#spn#fanfiction prompts
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Don’t Ask Me to Do That
Read on AO3
Fandom: The Babysitter: Killer Queen
Rating: T
Relationships: Bee/Cole Johnson
Characters: Cole Johnson, Bee
Additional Tags: Alternate Ending, Pining, Romance, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, Implied/Referenced Character Death
Word Count: 1,830
Summary:
Alternate ending for The Babysitter: Killer Queen, where Bee listens when Cole begs her not to drink from the cup.
Notes: Written for @julybreakbingo. Managed to cross off five squares with this one!
#so of course it's for the fic that has virtually no fandom#but the muse wants what the muse wants#the babysitter: killer queen#tbkq#the babysitter#cole x bee#my fic#my writing#JBBingo2022
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i read know the difference again and this fic really has the ability to make me conjure up 30 thousand ideas for any given daydream i have going on. jesus christ
#i also have. the worst habit of religiously reading fma/hp crossovers. and i really mean it like i think i have read.#nearly every single one? on ao3 and ffn? at the very least the ones that arent riddled with spelling mistakes. i have like 20 different#folders in my head just for this shit. its so stupid. and now im thinking 'damn what would happen if i just took killer queen#(another fic) but added the whole ed-as-an-agent-of-truth thing. like its not even that far-fetched' and i know my brain wont shut up#about it for like. at least a week.#also. go read he's a killer queen by hoye if you like those kinda crossovers. i love it sm it made me conjure at Least#10 different variations. most fics get like 1 or 2#jesus what am i even talking about again#cg.txt
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she's a killer queen
2. turn and face the strange (ch-ch-changes)
(part 1) | (read it on ao3)
Point Place, WI
July 16, 1977
12:57 AM
A pair of mismatched eyes flew open.
Jacqueline Burkhart was no stranger to waking up in the middle of the night, but the circumstances surrounding her lack of sleep this time around were definitely... weird.
The sheets stuck to her sweaty—alright, not sweaty, Jackie Burkhart didn’t sweat—skin thanks to the sweltering heat of a Wisconsin July, and she pulled them off of her as she tried to take stock of what actually woke her up.
She hadn’t dreamt, not that she could remember, and thank god for that. Her dreams nowadays were downright freaky. In them, she saw other people, people she’d never seen before, people from all sorts of backgrounds. There was a running joke between her and their friends that she hated foreigners—a sentiment her parents seriously believed, even if Jackie herself could never treat it as more than a joke, but even that joke died at the sheer love and kinship she felt for these women that she only ever met in her sleep. In some dreams she is these women, and as them, she fights monsters with deformed faces and giant fangs. Those are more like nightmares, even if she, acting as those women, always wins.
Jackie shared one such nightmare with Michael once, when he was supposed to spend the night at hers. He huffed and accused her of trying to kill the mood, complete with his trademark “Damn, Jackie,” and she never shared her dreams with him again, monster-ridden or not.
She shuddered, snuggling deeper into her bed. It’s not the first time she’s seen that... hideous creature in her brain, but tonight, now, it doesn’t bring up the same fear. No, for some reason, tonight the vision makes her... anxious. Not in a running way either; in a fighting way.
Anyway, it wasn’t the dreaming that woke her up this time. Nor was it her usual fear of sleeping alone in a big house, although it was in the back of her mind to check the locks again when she woke up in the morning. Her eyes moved across the room and, finding nothing amiss, she shook her head and relaxed again. I better not wake up again, she grumbled to herself as her eyelids drooped. I need my beauty sleep, damn it.
She remained oblivious, as her sleep went on undisturbed, of the new power thrumming in her veins.
The summer days were long and lonely when her friends were busy. Sure, Jackie could have hung out with other cheerleaders, but the girls on the team made her feel terrible, not just about herself but about everyone. She was her worst self when she tried to fit in with them, but damn it, she loved cheering. It was the one thing she did that brought her joy to her days, aside from spending time with (okay, bossing around) Michael.
She frowned. Come to think of it, she hadn’t spent much time with Michael lately, even though she went to the basement almost every day. Half the time, he wasn’t even there! Still, she was able to get closer with the rest of the basement gang, so it wasn’t a total loss. Fez loved her, Eric and Steven tolerated her, and Donna... Donna was her best friend, and she was a much better friend than anyone on the cheer team, that was damn sure. Hell, even the Formans were wonderful to be around! They were great company, better than her high school social circle and her perpetually absent parents, but that didn’t mean she didn’t miss her man.
Well, then, it was decided. Jackie would be spending the day at the Formans.
It was a normal day, just as bright and warm as the other summer days, but something was off. Come to think of it, something had been off since the night before when she’d woken up abruptly. She’d been feeling... powerful, she decided, but in the most subtle way possible. She felt an understated strength and damn it, try as she might, she just couldn’t explain it. It didn’t help that she nearly snapped her eyeliner pencil in two just by grabbing it, nor that she seemed to anticipate a car running a stop sign before it even approached the crossing.
You’re just overthinking it, she said to herself as walked over to the Forman residence, though she swore she never used to walk this fast before. Nothing’s wrong, nothing’s different, it’s all in your head.
She said it to herself enough that she believed it. And then she nearly tore the basement door right off its hinges.
Oops.
Luckily, the only person in the basement was Steven, and he barely paid attention to her on a regular day. But what about today had been regular so far? She saw his eyes widen behind his glasses as she closed the basement door, ten times gentler now after the slam she opened it with. Jackie could practically see the gears turning in his head, and she braced herself for the insults and name-calling to begin. She could hear it already: Jackie Burkhart, cheerleader freak.
Thankfully, what he actually said was nothing of the sort. “Look, whatever Kelso did, don’t take it out on the damn door, okay?”
“The door’s just falling apart,” she said, trying to hide her relief, “it wasn’t my fault, and besides, nothing happened to it. It probably just blew open with the wind. Mr. Forman should really fix that door sometime soon.”
Hyde opened his mouth to respond, but blessedly, he was interrupted by the presence of Michael Kelso himself.
Perfect, a worthy target of her frustration. “Michael, where have you been lately? I feel like you’re not around a lot nowadays.”
Michael stammered, looking between Steven and Donna and Eric, who had just come down the stairs from the kitchen. “I’ve been walking the dog. Yeah, yeah, that dog is crazy, Jackie, he needs to pee all the time.”
“Michael,” she huffed, eyes narrowing, “you don’t have a dog.”
Lies. He’s lying to you.
“Yeah, Jackie, I don’t, but, but I gotta walk it anyway because... because I got a job! Yeah, my dad won’t give me any more money for our dates and stuff, so I’m walking dogs now. Yup.”
And really, Jackie shouldn’t have let it slide that she was suspicious, but the implication that he was doing it for her was just too sweet. He was doing what her dad did, trying to provide for her, even if he disappeared from her life in the process. She couldn’t fault him for that, could she? Besides, she’d look like a total bitch if she confronted him after that.
Sure, she’d appreciate some attention sometimes, too, but... wait, was that something she wanted from Michael, or her dad?
“Well,” she sighed, smiling as she plopped onto his lap, “how about we use that date money now?”
The others in the room were watching with amusement, and their snickering as Michael stammered through some question or another did not go unnoticed by Jackie. They’re just laughing because Michael’s an idiot. That’s all. They’re not laughing at you.
This belief was cemented by the fact that Donna threw a newspaper at him, trying to hide her laughter. “Go ahead, Kelso, plan a date for Jackie.”
He still looked lost, so Jackie threw him a bone. “Michael, I want to go to the movies today.”
Eyes brightening, he looked for the movie timings in the paper.
Throughout the ensuing discussion about Smokey and the Bandit and girl movies, Jackie couldn’t fully move away from the fact that Michael was definitely lying to her. He didn’t have the scent of dog anywhere on him, unlike Mr. Wilkerson when she walked by his yard on the way here. The Wilkerson dog was sickly and not too active, but Jackie could still smell it clear as day on Mr. Wilkerson, and the closest she’d gotten to him was walking past him as he sat on his porch. So there had been no dog-walking or Jackie would’ve smelled it, like how she could smell Donna’s dollar store shampoo and the detergent Mrs. Forman used on Eric’s clothes.
When had she gotten so good at picking out scents?
The movie was a great distraction, totally uncomplicated. The Goodbye Girl was great aside from its direct parallels to Jackie’s life, but she could overlook that for Richard Dreyfuss’s insane Richard III performance. She was still giggling at the absurdity of it when Fez reached over and kissed her, with tongue.
Well, so much for uncomplicated.
It didn’t help that Michael punched Fez in the face, which meant they were all sent home. The kiss was great, maybe the best Jackie had ever had, but even that couldn’t distract from the pure fury in Jackie’s heart when she realized what exactly had happened, once she finally had the chance to reflect on it in private.
Who gave him the right to touch me?
She suddenly longed to rip Fez limb from limb, to tear his tongue out with her bare hands. A part of her suspected that she actually could do so, too, if she chose. She had that power now.
That power.
Where had it come from? Why did it manifest in her? Of course Jackie Burkhart was special, she’d be the first to tell you that, but she didn’t want to be a freak. Her mismatched eyes already made her one; because of them, she’d endured taunts of “freak” and “mutant” for the bulk of her childhood, half of them coming from her own mother. Jackie hated her eyes, and she was quickly growing to hate her newfound abilities in a similar fashion. They didn’t make her special, they made her a freak. And she refused to let anyone call her a freak any longer.
Not only that, but powers like these were dangerous. Jackie may not have been a comic book dweeb like Eric or a conspiracy nut like Steven but even she knew that people with abilities like hers were at risk of being locked up and experimented on.
Jackie didn’t want to be locked up! How would she be head cheerleader by her senior year if she was stuck in a secret government facility, being dissected?
No, she couldn’t let that happen. So Jackie did what any intelligent, rational teenage girl would do: she scribbled about it in her super-secret diary (as opposed to the regular diary she knew her parents and Michael tried to snoop in) and resolved to hide her powers from the public forever, or for however long they lasted. No superhero business for her, no sirree!
Besides, this was Point Place. Even if she wanted to use her powers for good, when would she get an opportunity to do that around here?
--
Across town, a couple stumbled into an alley next to a bar. The blond man pushed the woman into the brick wall of the bar, relishing in the delighted groan that ripped from her throat.
“Randy,” she mewled, half-laughing, “yeah, baby, just like that, just—”
The next thing to rip from her throat was her blood, and he happily guzzled it, letting her collapse against the wall once she was drained.
Randy gazed down at her, sated. It would’ve been smarter to turn her, but he was hungry, and who wanted to change the world on an empty stomach? No matter, he’d turn the next one, maybe one of the other barflies in the pub he’d just walked out of. This town seemed better than any to enact his plan, after all.
Yeah, he grinned to himself, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, Point Place’ll be just fine.
#mine#my fics#she's a killer/queen#killer/queen#that 70s show#t7s#jackie burkhart#jackie x hyde#that 70's show fanfiction#btvs universe#buffy the vampire slayer#vampire#fanfiction#fanfic
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Then momentarily out of action
Temporarily out of gas
To absolutely drive you wild, wild
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Hey y’all, I’m kadecre, the author of Feel it in the Wind (and a few other fics such as Killer Queen and K[no]w Better) on AO3.
I post behind the scenes, characterisations, and even some analysis/memes about my fics.
Edit: and now apparently whatever I feel like posting. Cause it’s ✨fun✨
If you have any questions about my writing process or want to look at some sneak peaks, feel free to ask.
#mha fanfiction#fic authors#Feel it in the Wind#Killer Queen#K[no]w Better#Drive By#Your Side of a Broken Heart#Skies of Song#The Queen’s Heart
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Killer Queen | Eddie Munson x Reader
♥ Summary: Life sucks, have sex with your would-be assassin- whose face is more familiar than you'd like it to be. [Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader]
♥ Warnings: 18+, minors and ageless blogs dni. violence, fighting, implied murder, arranged marriage to someone other than eddie, pwp, unprotected sex, p in v sex, fantasy assassins au, enemies to lovers that went by stupid fast
♥ Word count: 5609
Part 1, Part 2,
The first time death came for you, you were only a child.
You didn’t understand it at the time. There was no way you could have. You just knew that a group of terrifying men had come to your home, broken all your things, and drawn blood from your parents. Someone took you away before you had to see them die.
You were supposed to be next. As you were dragged away, you could hear the other assassins laughing. You screamed, thrashing in the grip of your captor, shrieking as your parents tried to fight to save their child. The second they were out of your sight, you fell silent. You didn’t understand the concept of death yet, but you knew in your tiny soul that something had just gone very wrong.
You didn’t stop fighting. You clawed and bit at your attacker, desperate to return to your parents. For a child of your age, you did a respectable job. You tore scratches into the man’s skin, into his face, and across his cheeks. You were aiming for his eyes. You missed. It didn’t take long for the man to pry you off and sit you down in front of him.
Then, he just stared.
You stared too- less so at the man himself, and more at his knife. It was massive and terrifying, and you were sure he was going to use it against you. Tears rolled down your tiny cheeks, but you refused to give in quietly. When he moved towards you, you hissed at him like some sort of creature and bared your teeth to bite him.
The man simply let out a tired sigh, like he was somehow used to children hissing at him. As he knelt down before you, you took note of a certain look in his eyes- a familiarity, as if he already knew you. You were entirely sure that you did not know him. The stranger said something under his breath- a curse, as you would later realize- and then he stood, offering a hand to you.
“I won’t hurt you, little princess- but I need you to come with me.”
“Wh-where are we going?”
“Somewhere safe, I promise.”
You hesitated, “Will my parents be there?”
He shut his eyes, “Just come with me, princess. We can find your parents later.”
You believed him. So, you took his hand and let him scoop you up into his arms. You fled your home in the dead of night. You never saw your parents again.
–
So, here’s the thing about sneaking out of a castle. It is way the fuck easier to do when you’re a royal assassin than when you’re the woman engaged to the king. Assassins are supposed to be shifty little shits. They’re supposed to come and go as they please. The king’s betrothed, on the other hand, is supposed to sit still, look pretty, have babies, and smile as the king subjugates his people, including her.
You were not having any of that fuckery.
During the day, you played nice- you were the quiet, graceful, virginal lady that everyone in the court expected you to be. At night, you plotted their goddamned downfall. Or you snuck out to the village to get wasted. Or both.
It was a little bit difficult to come up with ways to assassinate the king while you were tipsy, but lord almighty did you try.
Despite the added difficulties brought on by your new status, sneaking out wasn’t a supremely difficult task. All you really needed was some gold, and a mask to hide your identity. And also a sword. For safety. Other than that, you just needed a modicum of stealth- something you had in metric tones.
It helped that you had bribed the guard in charge of your protection long ago- pretty much as soon as the whole engagement thing had gone down. Sir Harrington was a sweet guy, a strong knight, and a damn good guard. You weren’t sure what he was doing serving the king when you first met- then you made the connection. The man’s parents were rich, high up in the king’s favour, and they had most likely pressured their son into this line of work. Fuckers.
Harrington almost hadn’t accepted the bribe at first. It made sense, he didn’t exactly need it. Then you reminded him that a source of income that his parents couldn’t trace could go a long way. He’d accepted the bribe after that- and after making you promise to call him Steve. You agreed, and in exchange allowed him to call you by your name.
And so, Steve it was- and so you could get out and into the village from time to time. And you did! Frequently!
And that is precisely how you ended up on your back, in the woods, halfway to the village, with a masked assassin looming over you, and no way to grab the blade strapped to your thigh. Funny how life works, right?
You probably should have seen it coming. Most of the king’s previous wives had met their end by way of assassination, you just kind of assumed that you would be married before the attempts on your life started.
Apparently, you assumed wrong.
As the assassin above you monologued away about your imminent demise (completely unaware that the mask muffled his voice) you prepared yourself for a fight. The second he paused for air, you kicked him right in the dick. Immediately, his monologue fell away to pained gasps and groans. It was fantastic, and you would. You might have laughed if you had the time for it- but you didn’t. With your life on the line, you grabbed the assassin’s blade and you fucking ran.
You just didn’t notice how familiar the knife in your hand actually was.
-
As promised, the strange man- your would-be assassin- took you somewhere safe. You had fallen asleep in his arms on the way there, and when you woke, you were in a small cottage, curled up next to a roaring fire. A soft, wool blanket covered your body. Despite the horror you had just survived, you felt oddly protected.
You sat up cautiously, taking in your new surroundings with wide, slow-blinking eyes. Wooden beams and wooden walls held up a low ceiling. On a few of the walls and above the fireplace, bundles of herbs hung drying. Almost every flat surface you could see was decorated with a mug. Beneath you, an itchy dark patterned rug stretched out across the floor. It wasn’t exactly what you were used to, but it was cozy. You let yourself lie back down across it.
There were four doors in the house. Beside one of them, there was a stack of hats. Behind another, you could hear two voices.
“I don’t know, I just couldn’t do it,” that was the stranger’s voice, “She’s just a little girl, she reminds me of my boy-”
“A boy that you haven’t seen in months,” another man was speaking. He sounded disappointed.
“I know. I’m not- I wasn’t meant to be a father. But that boy has his mother, and this girl has no one. That’s why I brought her to you.”
“And you want me to raise this girl?”
“No, no, just- find somewhere for her. Make sure she gets some training. Make sure she’s safe-”
The voices stopped for a moment. You heard a sigh, “You never should have joined them. It was a mistake from the start. The man you work for-”
“That man promised me enough to support my son and his mother for years. I did what I had to do.”
“But you still won’t go and see that son.”
“His mother doesn’t want me around.”
Another pause, then, “Fine. I’ll watch her. But at least write to him. The boy needs his father.”
Without another word, the door swung open. You shut your eyes, pretending to be asleep as the sound of footsteps drew nearer.
-
You were faster than the assassin thought you would be. The long string of expletives he let out as you pulled ahead of him told you that. You were actually pretty sure he tripped, though you couldn’t revel in the joy that that brought you. An even longer string of expletives crossed your mind as you dodged branches and leapt over roots. This guy just had to make you run, didn’t he?
Just as your lungs began to burn, the warm lights of the town came into view. The soft orange glow spilled through the trees. You let your guard down. That was a mistake.
Strong arms wrapped around your waist, dragging you to the ground. Panic swirled through your mind, but in a moment of clarity, you managed to bury the knife in the dirt a safe distance from your body so that its blade wouldn’t graze you in the struggle. Your hand slipped from the hilt as your pursuer twisted your body, pinning your back to the ground.
“You bastard, let me go-!” you shouted, struggling under the weight of his hold. As he leaned forward, dark curls spilled from his hood. Your fist met his face, knocking his mask to the ground. You looked up for a second- just a split second- and the world froze around you. His eyes were far too soft for an assassin, far too warm to be the eyes of a killer, and far too familiar for your heart to take.
And yet, he still reached for the knife.
You barely avoided the sting of his blade as he drove it towards your throat. Metal sunk deep into the earth. As your would-be assassin moved to strike again, you wrapped your hands around his arm, stopping him. The dark fabric of his sleeve slipped up beneath your touch revealing a pale patch of skin. You panicked. You didn’t think. The knife was in his grasp, your life was on the line, and you weren’t in the mood to die. You just turned your head, leaned in, and bit down as hard as you possibly could.
He yelped, throwing himself back enough for you to take advantage. You moved with his weight, pushing him to the ground and keeping him there with an arm across his shoulders. You opened your mouth to stop him, to say his name or something, but he cut you off.
“You’re stronger than I thought you’d be, your Highness.”
“You’re-” you choked on a breath, unsure of how to proceed, “You’re so sure of my identity?”
He shrugged, “I saw you leave the palace.”
Fuck. You must’ve been off your game if you hadn’t noticed him watching. You coughed, weakly trying to disguise your voice, “Still. I could have been a maid. I could have been anything-”
“But you aren’t just anything, are you? Your Highness?”
His words echoed in your head. Your Highness. You flinched internally at the knowledge that you may never be yourself again- not to him, not to anyone.
“Yeah, okay, fine. I’m the king’s new pet. Are you satisfied?” the words left a bad taste in your mouth.
“Not in the slightest,” He tried to push you off of him. He failed, “It takes more than that to satisfy me.”
“Yeah,” you scoffed, “I know.”
You kept a palm pressed against his chest, letting it move down to his stomach as you leaned back, reaching for the knife. You couldn’t help but feel a sense of deja vu about your position- though if memory served, your roles had been switched.
“You know, do you? Forgive me, Highness, but I doubt that a woman in your position would know anything about satisfaction.”
Your fingers closed around the hilt of the blade, “You’d be surprised.”
He tilted his head, narrowing his eyes as he stared you down, “Aren’t you noble girls forbidden from knowing any of that shit?”
“Well, yeah,” you sat back up, “But I’m not a noble girl.”
As he opened his mouth to meet your words with a stupid quip, you sat back up and removed your mask. The man beneath you was stunned into silence. The colour drained from his face as he took in your now-familiar features.
“Hi, Eddie. How are things?”
He said your name, voice shaking slightly, as if the very sound of it terrified him.
“So, how are things? Any good jobs lately? Any good kills?”
“Holy shit, what-?”
“It’s good to see that Melissa’s getting some use. She needs her exercise, y'know?”
He sat up quickly, nearly knocking you off of him in the process, “Sweetheart, what the hell is going on? What is this?”
“It’s pretty simple, all things considered,” you looked away from him, instead choosing to stare down at your hands. You couldn’t take those sweet brown eyes. Not right now, “The king wanted a wife strong enough to keep herself safe. I’m strong enough to keep myself safe.”
“That- that doesn’t-”
“Well, think about it. The last few queens have all met some sort of horrible fate, usually at the hands of an assassin,” you gestured between the two of you.
“So he decided to marry an assassin?”
You nodded, still refusing to look him in the eye.
“And… you’re going through with it? Your life is at risk, y’know? I almost killed you. You’re putting yourself in danger, he is putting you in danger and for what? Wealth? Power?”
“Heirs, mostly,” you cringed at the thought, “And it’s not like I have a choice, so...”
Silence fell between you. He brushed his thumb over your skin, returning his other hand to your arm. Beyond that, he didn’t move. Neither did you, though you longed to squirm in the discomfort that the quiet brought.
In your lap, your fingers squeezed around Melissa’s handle. With anyone else, you’d be preparing to fight or to run again. With Eddie, you didn’t have to. The blade remained still between you, a meeting point, the no man’s land between equal forces.
Around you, the woods sang softly. The song of crickets overtook the night. In the warm, far-off light of the village, Eddie’s honey-brown eyes seemed to glow.
“I can’t believe I was ordered to kill you.”
“Did they at least pay well?”
“Oh, absolutely. It would’ve carried me for at least a year, if not more.”
You bit your lip, “Sorry I stole your kill.”
“Don’t mention it. I think I owed you one, anyway.”
“Don’t mention it?” you smiled, burying Melissa’s blade in the dirt next to Eddie’s hip, “I think I got the sweeter deal that day.”
“Are you sure? Because I got the kill, I got a knife, I got bragging rights-”
“And I got to cum. So-”
“You also got a very nice bottle of poison.”
You hummed, running your hands up his stomach, over his chest, “I told you, I got the better deal.”
His hands slipped up your arms, coming to rest behind your neck. Your muscles relaxed as he played with a few strands of your hair.
“I assume your future husband doesn’t know?” he whispered, “Of… everything you’ve done?”
You leaned closer to Eddie until your nose brushed his, “It’ll be a cold day in hell when I care what that monster thinks.”
“And the court?” his tone lowered to something more serious and more concerned with your safety. As far as royalty went, in this country and in others, kings were free to fuck around, but queens were often met with the harsh realities of finding out.
Despite this, you moved your hips against Eddie’s relishing in the soft moan he let out, “What the court doesn’t know won’t hurt them.”
With that, your lips were on his. Your movements were slow, but not lacking in passion. You kissed him like there was a fire burning inside of you- an engulfing heat that you could not put out alone. His touch slipped down to your back, his palms pulling you closer as you moved to cradle his face in your hands. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, driven on by both desperate wanting and by fear.
As happy as you were in the moment- and you were, good lord, you were- beneath the surface, you were terrified. You had been forced into an engagement with a monster whose wives all ended up dead. It had only been a few days, and already, your life was in danger. If you survived long enough to get married- and that was a massive if- that marriage was guaranteed to be a torturous charade that ended with your death, the body horror of pregnancy, or both. In short, you were doomed. Your only solace was the thought of taking the king out with you- and this. Whatever this was with Eddie, you had solace in it. The way Eddie held you like you were something to be treasured, the way he kissed you like that was the only thing he’d ever wanted in his life- that gave you peace.
You found yourself speeding up as you melted into his hold, letting the world around you fade completely. Eddie was your only anchor- his fingertips pressed into your body, the warmth of his skin, and his lips on yours were the only things tethering you to the world. As dangerous as that was, you didn’t mind it in the slightest.
In fact, you wanted more.
You passed over Eddie’s bottom lip with your tongue, letting your teeth follow after. He moaned slightly as you bit him, thrusting his hips up to meet yours. As your tongue slipped into his mouth, his hands grasped onto your shirt. He needed something to cling to, something to hold as you had your way with him. You were both burning now, bodies going up in smoke as you let the flames spread, and it still wasn’t enough. You wanted him. You wanted him to touch you, to fuck you, to want you.
You pulled away slowly, panting as you did. Eddie let out a soft whine at the loss, digging his fingers into you as if to keep you with him. You didn’t go far. With all the speed you possessed, you removed your travelling cape and reached for the edges of your shirt. Eddie was quick to catch on, helping you tear the fabric from your body, leaving you bare before him.
The forest air was cold, lifting goosebumps on your skin. You pressed yourself closer to Eddie, desperate to cling to the warmth he provided. He stopped you, holding you in place a few inches away from him. Your eyes fell to his, confused at his intentions until you realized what exactly he was looking at.
“Fuck,” he hissed, “You’re beautiful.”
He leaned in, pressing a kiss to your collarbone before he shifted downward slowly. Your heart raced in your chest as his hands came down to hold your ribs. His grip was firm, keeping you steady as his soft lips brushed over your skin. He was so close to your breasts, so close to where you needed him, but he didn’t quite move there until he asked, “Is this okay?”
You took his face in your grasp and brought his lips to yours, kissing him as hard as you possibly could. Heat burned at your core as your want for him made itself known between your thighs. Every part of you cried out for him- every cell, every nerve burning with desire. You pulled back, and let your forehead rest against his. Your fingers stroked nonsense patterns into his skin.
“It’s more than okay.”
A devious smile crossed his face. Almost immediately, his lips were on you again, though this time he was less gentle. His teeth bit at the soft flesh of your breast, clamping down hard enough to make you gasp and writhe, but not enough to leave incriminating marks.
One of his arms wrapped around your waist so he could pull you closer. His new vantage point let him bury his face in your skin, giving him more space to mark you in places that only the two of you would see. Small crescents dotted your skin as you let him turn your body into art. His other hand came up to your right breast, brushing his thumb over your nipple so he could watch you squirm in his lap.
The feeling of his long, calloused fingers was quickly growing familiar to you, but tonight there was something new. Big silver bands covered his fingers- rings that he hadn’t worn the first time you’d met. You liked them on an aesthetic level, but more than that, the feeling of the skin-warm metal against your chest left you moaning and shaking in place. You wondered what they would feel like pressed against your cunt, with his fingers deep inside of you.
“God,” when he spoke, you could feel his breath against your skin, “I can’t believe I almost killed you tonight. Holy shit.”
“You’re-” you let out a soft whine as Eddie bit you again, “Your face is buried in my boobs and that’s what you’re thinking about?”
He looked up at you, eyes wide, “I can hear your heartbeat down here. I don’t want it to stop.”
“Oh,” you whispered, “That’s really sweet, stop that.”
“No,” he pressed his mouth back to your skin. You could feel the smile on his lips as he spoke against you, “I’m glad you kicked my ass today. I’m glad I’m still bad at using your knife-”
“Melissa.”
“Melissa. I’m glad that I didn’t hurt you-”
“Could you have actually hurt me? I’m not so sure about that-”
“One of these days, we’ll spar it out, princess. For now, though, I’m just glad that you’re still breathing-”
“Oh my god,” blood burned beneath your face as you flushed with embarrassment. You’d had about as much of this sugar-sweet nonsense as you could take, “I need you to lie down and shut up now.”
“You’ll have to make me, fair lady-”
“Well, yeah,” you pushed him back, grabbing his jaw with one hand to make him look at you, “That’s kind of the plan.”
“Oh.”
It was his turn to blush. His cheeks took on a sweet, red hue as you adjusted yourself just enough to remove your pants. When you looked back at him, Eddie’s eyes were wide and wanting. His tongue darted out, wetting his lips as he watched you. He was practically drooling over you- and fuck, was that a boost to your ego.
“Oh god,” he whispered, “You’re so-”
“Yeah, I’m gorgeous, I’m aware.”
He smiled, running his hands past your hips to your waist, “You may be aware, but I still want to say it.”
“Aw, well, thank you,” you leaned down, pressing another kiss to his lips. You moved to pull away, but he placed a palm flat on the back of your neck, keeping you still.
“Hang on, sweetheart,” he said into the kiss, “Just let me savour this.”
“What, you don’t kiss naked women while they lie on top of you every other day?”
“Women and men, baby, but none of them are quite like you.”
You rolled your eyes and thrust your hips against his, “You’re ridiculous. Now come on, help me get your pants off.”
He obeyed, freeing his cock and removing his shirt with endearing enthusiasm. It almost made you wonder what else he would do if you asked- but you were far too distracted by the body beneath you.
Eddie was muscular but lean. His pale arms and chest were covered with various tattoos that you would’ve spent hours studying- if it weren’t for his cock. He was long, thick, and painfully hard. You could see the veins running up his length. You were desperate to know how they would feel beneath your fingers. He was beautiful- and you desperately wanted him inside of you.
“Like what you see, princess?” his voice brought your attention right back to his eyes. You’d gotten distracted, and he’d noticed.
“I- uh-” your brain hummed with a thousand things to say as your blood boiled beneath your skin. ‘I want you to fuck me.’ ‘I need your cock inside me right now or I’m going to scream.’ ‘Please, sir, will you fuck me?’ None of them felt right, so you just told him to shut up. That seemed to please him more than anything you could’ve come up with.
“Sounds like I took your breath away, sweetheart.”
“I’m gonna kill you,” you muttered, spitting into your palm. You didn’t go all the way, though. You only reached down far enough to let your touch hover near his hip- centimetres
from where he needed you.
“Are you- are you sure you want this?”
He looked at you as if you’d lost your mind, but when he spoke, his voice was sweet, “Yeah, I want this. I want you, sweetheart. Now can you touch me, please?”
“Please?” you repeated. Reassured and smiling, you rut your hips against him again, “Oh, you’re such a good boy.”
“Fuck-!” he hissed, “I didn’t think you’d be so cruel.”
“I don’t know why you’re so surprised, Munson,” you wrapped your fingers around his length, stroking him up and down so you could watch his eyes roll back, “I am an assassin.”
You sped up your movements, savouring his whimpers and moans. Pre-cum pooled at the tip of his cock, and you wordlessly wicked it away. He arched his back, driving himself into your hand as you leaned in close to him, “When I say I’m gonna kill you, it means I’m gonna kill you.”
“Kill me then,” his voice cracked as you traced one of his veins with your thumb, “Please, please kill me.”
You pressed your lips to his, kissing him quickly. With your free hand, you quickly prepared yourself, sliding two fingers inside as you got into position over him. He watched with wide eyes as you stretched open over him, lining his cock up with your dripping cunt.
Taking him was an achingly slow process. Your tight walls struggled to accommodate his size. You found yourself drowning in a mix of sharp pain and mind-numbing pleasure. Beneath you, Eddie tilted his head back with a loud moan, exposing the pale column of his neck to your waiting lips. You didn’t hesitate to cover his throat with small purple bruises, biting and kissing every inch of skin that you could reach.
“Fuck-” he breathed, voice straining as you sunk your teeth into a particularly sensitive spot, “You’re taking me so well, princess. You’re so fucking warm- so fucking tight-”
“I don’t know if that’s the case,” you panted, your breath hot against his neck, “I think it’s more that you’re fucking huge.”
You both moaned as your hips finally met his, his cock finding the deepest point inside of you. For a moment, you remained still on top of him, savouring the stretch of him against your walls.
Your nails scratched angry red lines down his chest as you sat up, catching your breath. Eddie’s fingers dug into your hips, kneading a comforting pattern into your skin. His eyes devoured the sight of you on top of him as you began to move.
The pace you set was brutal and entirely unforgiving. The sound of skin on skin echoed through the trees. Your fingers dug into the dirt beside his head as you drove yourself down. He let you take control of him, watching with those pretty eyes as he disappeared into your cunt.
Your thighs grew slick with your arousal. You could feel yourself getting closer to the edge with every drag of Eddie’s cock inside of you. His fingers slipped down to your clit, rubbing tight circles around it. You clenched down around him, and when you moaned out his name, he smiled.
“Keep clenching down on me like that and I-” he cut himself off with the sweetest moan you had ever heard, “I won’t last long.”
“Neither will I- fuck- keep touching me, please.”
“Whatever you say, princess.”
He kept his word. His touch grew faster until you were a sweating, panting mess. Soft whimpers escaped your lips as you rode him. Your fingers clenched to fists in the dirt. For the first time in a while, thoughts of your impending doom were far from your mind. All you could think of was the man beneath you- of his pleasure, and of yours.
You could feel yourself spiralling towards the edge. Your walls tightened around him of their own accord as you got closer.
“Oh god,” you whimpered, “You’re- you’re gonna make me cum, fuck-”
Eddie’s other hand moved up your side, his eyes peering deep into your own. When he spoke, the sound was so soft that you almost missed it, “Do it. Cum for me, sweetheart, I’ve got you.”
“You- you’ve got me. Fuck-”
“I’ve got you.”
You collapsed over his chest, falling onto him as you came. His heart raced beneath your ears as he kept thrusting his hips into yours. His grip returned to your sides, his palms pressed flush against your skin, his fingers digging in deep. A small whimper escaped you as he fucked up into your body, almost driving you to the point of overstimulation.
Eddie let out a soft pant. His fingers dug into your flesh as he whispered, “Fuck- fuck, you felt so good. ‘M gonna cum soon.”
“Shit,” you whispered, “Okay, okay, you can’t cum inside me, shit-”
You pulled yourself off of his cock just in time to watch as Eddie spilled his release over your thighs and his stomach. You bit your lip as the boy’s eyes rolled back in his head, as curse after curse slipped from him. As soon as he’d finished, his gaze returned to yours.
He reached up, running his thumb over your cheek. You leaned into his touch, so much so that you collapsed back onto the ground beside him. Eddie’s fingers slipped up, tangling in your hair as you let your head rest on his shoulder.
“God,” your voice was so quiet, Eddie had to strain to hear it, “I didn’t think you would look so pretty when you came. I should make you do that more often.”
You could feel his laughter vibrate in his chest. The smile on his face blinded you.
“You’ve found my only weakness!” he exclaimed, somehow keeping his voice quiet, “Flattery!”
You rolled your eyes, incapable of hiding the grin on your face, “Careful, now. I might have to use that against you.”
“Good.”
You and Eddie fell quiet, oddly comfortable for a couple lying on the forest floor. You could have fallen asleep then and there, safe in his arms, away from the nightmare that the world had become.
Slowly, he sat up and reached for the pile of discarded clothes. Before you could move to follow him, Eddie grabbed what he needed and returned to your side. A black handkerchief wove itself between his fingers, a dark void against his pale moonlit skin. You watched, nearly hypnotized, as he wrapped the fabric around his knuckles and reached out for your knee.
He looked at you, his eyes darting from yours to your cum covered thighs. When you nodded, the tips of his fingers traced down your soft skin. He cleaned you carefully, allowing you to lie back as he brushed the smooth material over your legs.
“Shit, Munson,” you whispered, “I think I like you.”
“That’s good, I’d be a little concerned if you didn’t.”
You scoffed, sitting up and threading your fingers into his hair, “Yeah, I like you. I like you a lot, Munson,” you paused for a second, pulling him closer to you and leaning in just as far.
“Hey,” you whispered, “Is there any chance that you want to help me kill the king?”
-
“Hey there, little princess,” a hand gave your shoulder a gentle shake, “I need you to wake up for a second.”
Your tiny eyes blinked open as you sat up off the carpet. The warmth of the fire and the stress of the day had sent you into a quick and uneasy sleep.
“Where’s my mom?” you whispered, words slurred with your exhaustion.
“I- I’m going to go find her, alright? But I need you to stay here for now. You can do that for me, yes?”
You nodded.
“Good,” he reached down, taking a knife from his belt. To you, the short blade was a sword, “Take this. It’ll keep you safe.”
Your hands shied away from the weapon. You shrunk back slightly, trying to appear uneasy but brave instead of scared. The stranger took note of it, regardless, softening the expression on his face in an attempt to appear softer- less threatening.
“Come on, kid. It’s just a knife. You’ll learn to use it, I promise.”
You continued to hesitate. The stranger clung to his patience, digging his fingers into his palms.
“She can be your friend,” he finally whispered, “She can look after you.”
Finally, you reached out, your tiny fingers curling around the heavy hilt of the knife.
“What’s her name?”
The stranger was at a bit of a loss. He froze, eyes wide as you took the blade from his hands, “Uh… Melissa?”
It was more of a question than an answer, but you accepted it. The little blade was yours. It did as the stranger said it would. Until you met Eddie Munson, she kept you safe.
#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson fic#x reader#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson x fem!reader#killer queen fic
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So...hehe
Remember the post I made yesterday (since it’s the 5th here) about how I was worried that I had a) written too many fics for K&H and was worried that I might run out of ideas and b) worried that people might get bored of any new ones that I might put out because they’re very similar to ones I’ve already written?
Well, jokes on both of us because I have four new fic ideas for Killer and Healer and so fucking what if they’re similar to something I’ve written before? I’m having fun and I know I’m going to have fun with these ideas so...fuck it. And it’s like that one post said: “Don't cater to your followers. You're not trapped in here with them, they are trapped in here with you”.
Y’all are trapped in here with me. And if you don’t like my fics or my writing or the fandoms I write for...I frankly don’t care. The door’s over there. See ya. But if you’re willing to stay...welcome
#sass talks#i read some manga and got inspired#so we got four new wip ideas#oops#not really oops though#because i needed to get out of my head#and not worry about what people thought about me or about my writing#i'm really excited about the new ideas#(technically it's five but the fifth fic is one i've talked about before but haven't started working on because i needed to expand the idea)#but yeah#we got new fics coming#the day i stop writing for killer and healer is the day i fucking die so...#when i say i'm the queen of killer and healer#i fucking mean it
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Mess is Mine - Milf!Wanda Maximoff x Reader
Summary: Being divorced from Wanda Maximoff implies never getting over her.
Warnings: (+18), language, brief smut, divorced ladies who are very still much in love with each other, unspecified age gap, marriage going wrong, hopeful ending, mild angst, fluff.| Words: 3.949k.
A/N-> There's this divorced couple in a Brazilian soap opera with so much chemistry in their scenes together because of the intimacy gained during marriage (even though that didn't work out) and they won't leave my tik tok ; at some point, my brain thought about this fic. I would love to write more of this trope in the future.
General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad
--//--
Wanda had a persistent migraine, and the pile of work in front of her was not helping.
Still, all her stubborn brain could focus on instead of her real job was the stupid headline of the gossip magazine on her desk.
A cheap and badly angled photo of her ex-wife with colorful captions that read 'The newest business killer couple?" and dozens more insinuations about a secret high-society romance made her stomach churn.
Wanda tried not to be affected by the gossip, but you looked so happy in the photo that she couldn't help it.
The sudden opening of her door made Wanda jump in her seat, in one quick pull close the magazine and sigh with relief when she saw it was only Natasha.
"Why are you here?" Her long-time friend and co-worker asked. Wanda frowned in confusion.
"It's still my company..."
Nat rolled her eyes, walking into the office and taking long strides to her desk. "I meant in here, smarty-pants. The event is starting in an hour, the staff wanted some words of encouragement or something."
Wanda sighed wearily, massaging her forehead with one hand. "Can't you do that for me, Nat? I gotta make some calls."
Nat hummed in agreement, but her gaze caught the closed magazine on the table and she raised a brow at her friend. "One of those calls includes your ex-wife, I suppose."
Wanda chuckled dryly, taking the magazine out to one of the drawers and adjusting herself to reach the desk phone. "There's nothing else for me to say to her."
Her friend hid a smile that said that she didn't believe this one bit. "Okay, whatever you say. See you later, boss."
Wanda waved goodbye, with the phone to her ear. Her immediate instinct was to dial known numbers but she shook her head to push that ridiculous idea away and went back to work.
Several hours after the peak of the event when the company was filled with guests, from potential clients to journalists looking for any news like vultures at the carrion, Wanda was at her second glass of champagne, trying to keep the rest of her patience intact after having answered so many questions for gossip magazines regarding the headline from earlier in the day.
She absolutely did not want to discuss a possible romance between her ex-wife and the heiress of Bishop Industries.
Years before, any of them would have been afraid to question her about something so ridiculous, but that was before you came along. And melted your way into the Business Ice Queen, the untouchable Wanda Maximoff, or whatever insensitive nickname they invented about her back then. Before breaking down all of Wanda's walls, making her a better person, and of course, before you left her.
It was definitely the alcohol's fault that she was thinking about this, and with these stupid tears welling up in her eyes. Wanda swallowed all the emotion, burying it deep and making sure that no one had noticed her broken expression. With an excuse to a group of investors who were boring her into a corner, she retreated to an area far away from the company's outdoor gardens, taking a deep breath to calm herself. The beautiful view of the state lake was most welcome.
So of course the reason for her almost minor breakdown had to show up wearing her favorite suit.
"Are you running away from your guests, Maximoff?" Your tone was casual, the smile provocative. She snorted to herself, crossing her arms and keeping her eyes on the lake. You didn't mind, walking over to her at a slow pace until you were beside her on the edge.
"I just needed some air." She merely replies. With one hand in your pockets, you adjust your own hair, and Wanda hates that she can smell the shampoo, her body betraying her and shuddering as if your scent were addictive.
"You're avoiding me today." You comment lightheartedly, studying her face. "I arrived an hour ago and it took me almost all this time to find you."
Wanda forced a smile, finally facing you back, but her angry look made you hesitate. "I thought your chaperone was keeping you busy."
You glanced back at the party, stealing a quick check on Kate at the food stand, chatting with a blonde girl, before turning your attention back to Wanda.
"I forgot how hot you get when you're jealous."
Wanda huffs away, her cheeks burning which she tries to hide by staring at the lake. "Don't even start." She warns between teeth.
You chuckle, rolling your eyes, but don't insist. You turn your attention to the lake as well. "I wanted to let you know that the boys have already arrived in King Cross. I spoke to them and Charles on the phone."
"I know, Pietro texted me." She retorts more harshly than she meant to and bites the inside of her cheek as she sees you lower your head in upset. With a sigh, she mumbles, "I meant, thanks for letting me know."
You smile, nodding before turning your gaze back to the party. "What do you think of Miss Bishop?"
Wanda locks her jaw; How dare you honestly. A list of curses lays ready on the tip of her tongue, but she remembers where you two are, and takes a deep breath. You were clearly trying for some kind of reaction from her, and she's not going to let you have this victory today.
"She's beautiful." Wanda replies. "As young as you were when I met you."
You chuckle shortly, raising an eyebrow at her. "What are you implying, Maximoff?"
Wanda shrugs her shoulders softly, turning to leave. "You're quite clever, Y/N, I'm sure you follow." She hits back, but you step forward into her path. You are suddenly too close, and Wanda finds herself holding her breath. She needs to take a step back to avoid stopping breathing for good.
Your eyes stare into theirs. "Not that this is any of your business, darling, but my relationship with Kate is strictly professional."
You assure her in a low tone, and Wanda swallows hard as your gaze moves down to her lips for a long moment before focusing on her eyes again. A smile forms on your mouth next. "Besides this, I've always had a thing for older women."
Wanda sighs heavily, using all her mental control to pull away at once. "Go pay attention to your chaperone, Y/N. Especially if she's a potential client."
You roll your eyes at the business tip; you already know them by heart, the vast majority learned from Wanda. And your ex-wife makes mention of leaving, so you slide your hand down her forearm gently, taking some amusement in seeing the way she shivers.
"I wanted to talk to you about something, Wanda." You let her know, with a serious tone but a tender look. The redhead swallows dryly at the closeness of your faces now that you're standing side by side, your hands connected. "Later, after the party, okay?"
"I-I..."
"It's important." You assure her, knowing her hesitation is so as not to break your agreement about relapses. With a gentle expression, you insist, "Please, it won't take more than five minutes."
She licks her lips, and you almost kiss her. Lucky for her she agrees and walks away because God knows you would have done it, right there in that garden for all the New York reporters to have a week's news about.
Without Wanda's perfume around you, you take a deep breath and try to clear your mind, having to wait a few more minutes in the garden for your heart to stop beating so fast.
As the event nears its end and Wanda needs to give a closing speech, you say goodbye to Kate before the parking area. You ignore all the journalists who try to insinuate something about you having taken the girl to the car and exchange a glance with Wanda in the small crowd before moving toward the elevator.
Wanda has always known you so well, and with a nod, she knows exactly where she has to go.
Her work floor is completely deserted as she makes her way to her own office. But she still closes the door as she enters, letting out a tired laugh at your figure sitting on her armchair.
Her smile fades when she sees what you are reading.
"Headlines nowadays are getting creative..." You wryly chuckle, laughing at your ex-wife's caught expression. "It says here that I might have an eye to the Bishop's fortune. How silly, you gave me almost half of yours in the divorce, why would I need more money?"
"Very funny." Wanda dryly retorts, reaching up to snatch the magazine from your hands with a tug, and raking the item into the trash afterward. She crosses her arms as she looks at you. "What did you want to tell me?"
You flashed a small, sideways smile. "You used to be more polite when you wanted to sleep with me. At least offer me a drink."
Wanda chuckled dryly, rolling her eyes and begrudgingly moving to the personal bar in the corner of the room. If she leaned over more than necessary to grab one of the whiskey bottles, aware that the position in the chair gave you a full view of her ass, neither of you said anything about it. She hid her satisfied smile as she heard your breath hitch at the image, and you hid your own reaction as you cleared your throat and looked away.
Shortly thereafter, two shots of whiskey were served on the glass table in front of you. But before the toast, you declared:
"I'm leaving."
Wanda frowned, and when you made mention of taking the glass, she placed her hand on your forearm. "Speak."
You chuckled, staring her in the eyes. "I closed a contract with the Ten Rings folks. They want me in Korea for the next four months."
Wanda lets go of your arm as if she had been burned and steps away from the table with an indecipherable, but very disturbed expression.
"B-but the boys.." She tries to formulate, but you rise from the armchair with a sigh.
"They'll be at school." You retort, even though firm, your gaze is almost pleading. For what, Wanda doesn't have the heart to wonder. "It's not as if they stay with us all the time, Wands. The boarding school takes up this time quite well. It will only be four months, and they've already invented the telephone and internet, you know?" You try to joke, but Wanda hugs her own body and faces you.
"Why are you here, then? You've traveled before."
"Not for that long." You say, taking steps toward her, and mentally thanking heavens that she doesn't pull away. "And not... not since we made the divorce official."
"Y/N..."
"I know, I know." You murmur with a sad smile, raising your hands to her arms uncovered by her dress. "Maybe it's stupid, but I wanted to make sure we're okay. That it won't be something...I don't know, that hurts us."
"More than a divorce? I find that difficult." She replies with restrained emotion in her husky voice. You sigh.
"Wanda..."
"No, you're right. It was stupid." She cuts off, pulling away so you don't see the tears welling up in her eyes. "Of course it's okay. But I appreciate that you respect the concept of shared custody. I imagine the kids already know?"
"Yes, I told them before I took them to the airport." You mutter upset, watching Wanda walk away to the window. "But Wands, I wanted to tell you in person..."
"And why is that, huh?" she retorts with an impatience that makes you flinch. And for this, Wanda loses it for good. "You know, I don't understand you! You left me! You filed for divorce, you wanted to break us up. But you keep showing up here, and at home, and everywhere, and now you want to come here and say you care-"
"I care, Wa-"
"Then why did you leave me?" she shouts back, almost regretting it when she sees the tears in your eyes. You laugh tearfully, shaking your head.
"We've had this conversation dozens of times, Wan." You say, much calmer than she is. "But you just can't accept that you're wrong, can you?"
"Right, I forgot that I'm the villain in your story." She sneers, wiping her face with the back of her hand. You give another sad laugh.
"I wish it were that simple, darling." You tell her, taking slow steps toward her. "If you were just the villain, the bad wife, the evil boss, everything would be easier. I could hate you, curse your names to all my friends, and spend all the divorce money on expensive, empty things out there, but it's not like that. You forget the part that I love you and tried to fight for us until the last second."
Wanda sobs quietly, looking down at the floor, "Don't do that, Y/N."
"But it's true, baby, you know. I'm not the one who broke any promises, Wands. I just got tired of begging for crumbs of attention from the person who swore to spend the rest of her days with me."
Wanda lifts her chin, and the determination in her gaze doesn't do justice to the tears. "You knew how much my career meant when you said yes."
You smile sadly, taking one last step to get close enough to hold her face. Wanda shudders as you wipe away her tears, as you have done so many times before, as if no time has passed and everything was fine.
"I am so proud of you, Wands, for all you have accomplished with your work. I only wish I had been as important as this building."
You place a long kiss on her forehead, pulling away afterward. You offer her one last sad smile before closing the door on your way out. Wanda starts to cry as soon as you have done so, even though she tries very hard to keep her tears away.
–//–
You burned a pancake to answer the door, but all the irritation over the ruined dish vanished when you saw Wanda standing in front of you.
It had only been a few days since you had last seen her, and now all the furniture in your apartment was already packed away and covered with rags, prepared for the time you would be away. Wanda's party dress gave way to a casual suit that made you swallow dryly and become self-conscious of the sweatpants and sports top you were wearing. Wanda wouldn't have picked anything better.
"Are you going to let me in, detka?" Wanda asked with some teasing for your moment of shock. You immediately recovered, making room for her to enter and closing the door once she was in the hall. "Sorry for disturbing your breakfast. I wanted to see you before your flight."
"Oh, don't worry about it. And I'm not going until the afternoon." You clarified somewhat clumsily by her presence, one hand still holding a spatula and the other adjusting your hair. "I made pancakes if you'd like..."
"I would love it." Wanda assured with a smile that made your stomach twist. It wasn't fair that your ex-wife got more beautiful every time you looked at her, honestly.
Wanda followed you back into the kitchen, and to both your surprise, you fell into a light conversation about work and the boys while preparing and serving food, completely different from the tone of the conversation the last time you had seen each other.
But it was a time bomb, of course, so you weren't surprised when Wanda suddenly bit her lip, assuming a more tense posture.
Finishing chewing your pancakes, you asked:
"Why are you here, sweetheart?"
Wanda raised her eyes to you, and you stared back at her, patiently for her to clarify.
"I wanted to say goodbye to you properly." She said, spinning her own stool around first before tipping her hands around yours to spin you toward her. You raise a brow in curiosity, but the question of what she was doing dies in your throat as she leans in and brings your lips together.
It has been exactly three months, eighteen days, and sixteen hours since you last kissed Wanda, and you only realize how much you missed the feeling when she does it again. It's as intoxicating as it is overwhelming, and you gasp into her lips, breaking the kiss at once as you stand up, taking good steps away from the countertop.
"Wanda, we talked about this." You remind her in a husky voice, pressing a hand over your face. It's ridiculous how much your skin is burning and your heart is racing for something that lasted less than three seconds. "No relapses. You promised-"
"It's not a relapse." She assured, reaching up and grabbing your hands to place them around her waist. You grunted at the sensation, closing your eyes as Wanda slipped hers over your shoulders, too close for you to think about anything other than her. "It's a parting gift. So you'll have a reason to come back."
"W-what...?"
Wanda presses closer and brings her mouth to your ear. "Just stop overthinking it and accept the gift, detka."
With encouragement, she bites the lobe of your ear, and you give up resisting.
With a tug on her waist, you bring your mouths together in a kiss much hungrier and more passionate than the first, which elicits loud, almost primal moans of need from both of you. Wanda pushes and pulls, and by the time you stumble to the back of the living room couch, your pants are already open and there's nothing covering your torso; much like the woman in front of you, who as soon as she throws you sitting up against the cushions, your breathing out of rhythm and your lips swollen from kissing hard, makes a show of removing the rest of her clothes.
She has time to smile mischievously at your look of pure adoration at her completely naked body in front of you before you pull her onto your lap by her thighs. Wanda climbs on you with a needy grunt, burning from the inside out in anticipation for you to touch her again.
Your touches are almost desperate, your kisses mark her skin. It is your gift, but you also seem determined to make sure that Wanda has the memory of this morning for quite some time.
When your mouth closes around her nipples, she whimpers to the ceiling, arching her back and steadying her hands in your hair, a soft plea that you not stop.
"Yes, baby, just like that." She encourages over the stimulation on her nipples, breaking into an excited whimper when you simply use your free hand to masturbate her. At any other time, you would have taken your time to work her up until she was begging for your touch, but now, in the urgency you two were sharing, it wasn't necessary. She was ready for you.
Your fingers penetrate her without delay, and Wanda digs her nails into your shoulder, breaking into a breathless moan. You give one last hickey on her hardened nipple before you move your face back up to hers, kissing her with intensity as your fingers dance inside her walls with the mastery of one who has done this a dozen times, one who knows her like the palm of the hand she so deliberately grinds against in the intention of relieving herself.
"G-god, detka! Right here!" She breaks the kiss into an affected moan, practically meowing as you repeatedly hit that sensitive spot inside her. The wetness grows in your palm, Wanda oozes into you, and to help her, you bring your free hand to her hip, coordinating her movements as she begins to fail. "I-I'm going to..."
"Don't talk, show." You interrupt her with a proud little smile, moving your mouth down to bite the sensitive spots on her neck. "Come to me, baby, I've got you."
That's all she needs to reach the first climax of the morning, and she is not surprised that you don't stop at the first. Or the second, or the third.
You are on your knees on the living room floor when your first alarm goes off. Breathing as out of breath as Wanda, on the couch with her torso exposed and her legs spread from which you against your will need to remove your face to turn off the alarm when you pull away.
She covers herself when you disappear to the kitchen because she knows it's because of the flight, and when you return, the cell phone goes on the coffee table and you sit on the floor next to her on the couch.
There is a long silent pause, where only your breaths can be heard. Wanda skirts a hickey on her own thigh and you sigh.
"We shouldn't have..." But you can't complete, it because your voice fails you as if you are going to start crying. You look away, and Wanda lets herself fall to your side on the floor, where she reaches for your hand.
"Detka, look at me." She asks, and you have to wait a moment until you sniffle and do so with difficulty.
"I told you it hurts me, Wands. I can't-" You take a deep breath. "I can't heal if this keeps happening. There’s no getting over you if we keep doing this”
She shakes her head. "I don't want you to get over me." She says and you huff, trying to pull her hand away, but Wanda squeezes. "I love you, you know I do."
"Love is not enough." You retort bitterly, your eyes filled with tears. "Loving me doesn't mean you won't hurt me. Nor that you won't ignore me. Those are just words, Wanda. I haven't felt loved by you in a long time."
She releases your hand from the shock of your words, and watches you create a physical distance between you as you walk away. You slip away to the bedroom, muttering that you need to get ready for the flight, and she tries to make a decision the whole time you are in the shower.
When you return to the room, wearing a set of travel clothes, Wanda is wearing your sweatpants and her own dress shirt. Your chest aches to see her wearing your clothes again.
"Wanda, you'd better go, my flight-"
"I love you, detka." She cuts you off with eyes bright with determination as she stares at you. You swallow dry, but can't resist when Wanda reaches up to touch your face. "I will make sure you know it. You'll know it so deeply that you'll be able to feel it in your bones. And you'll never doubt it again."
You sniffle lightly. "Wanda..."
"Don't worry about it now, detka." She interrupts you more gently, caressing your face. "Have a great trip. I'll be here when you come back home."
You sigh, and Wanda doesn't let you say anything more, kissing you in a calmer, but somehow much more intense way than before.
She leaves the apartment before you, with a wink and a request that you call the boys before and after the flight.
And even before she gets to the first floor, Wanda has already texted Natasha about her early retirement procedure after her well-deserved family vacation.
#wanda maximoff x reader#wanda x reader#elizabeth olsen x reader#wanda maximoff oneshots#marvel imagines
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Hey lovely!!! I absolutely love all your fics
How about Jackson who slowly falls in love with reader and wants to marry her (shocking to him cuz he’s kind of a fuckboy) but then he learns that she’s been using him for information
Dark ending maybe?
double fantasy - jackson rippner x assassin!reader
hey queen, i have one word for you: YES. i wasn't sure if you wanted a dark ending for jackson himself or for the reader - so i just kind of went of a whim. also thank you for the support i love u endlessly you are so so so kind! kisses
summary: you had one job. seduce and kill your target; jackson rippner. you thought you had him wrapped around your finger but really - he had you wrapped around his.
word count: 3.9k
warnings: dark themes, (brief) smut 18+ mdni!!, daddy kink, praise kink, p in v, choking, mentions of murder, forced captivity, being held hostage, misogyny, mentions of breeding kink/forced breeding, housewife kink/fetish, mentions of forced pregnancy.
jackson thought he was pretty good at his job. i mean, being the leader of an assassination organization - he felt as if could read people like the back of his hand. he was a talented hitman - that much was obvious. he'd never failed a mission; if he did he'd be dead or in jail, perhaps he'd meet the fate of both tragic endings if he did ever fuck up.
as agile and manipulative as he was - he was no match to you. he couldn't even compare to you.
you weren't just some killer for hire , nor were you the leader of some assassination organization. you - you were lethal. you only worked along side a few other people, but mostly alone. you didn't work for some organization.
jackson considered himself to be a busy man, certainly too busy with work to date long-term. he only ever got with women casually, usually for a quick fuck or a one night stand, never bothering to follow up with any calls or god forbid - a date.
a heartbreaker, some may say. but as good as jackson was at that - you were even better. you seemed to be quite good at that; being better than him in pretty much everything he attempted to do. but jackson learned how you worked faster than you could keep up.
the repetitive music played loudly in the crowded bar, the dim lights barely giving any light source in the packed building, various neon signs hanging off the wall.
you came dressed to kill - literally.
with your hair and makeup done flawlessly, you stepped into the crowded bar in your highest louboutin red bottoms, in the classic black colour they were so well known for. your tight, black, mini dress hugged the shape of your body in all the rights ways; the see through lace on the bustier of it giving a little peak as to what was hiding underneath. the jewels on your earrings, necklace, and dainty but iced out bracelet probably costed more than what every single person in the bars salary was combined. you knew you were priceless.
"martini, dirty." you tell the bartender, reaching into your favourite designer clutch but he'd cut you off before you could even get a hold of your card. "ah, don't worry about that - it's on the house."
you smile sweetly, pretending to be shocked at the bartenders words with a little gasp just for dramatic effects, "really? you're so sweet." you tell him, biting your lip.
he places your martini, dirty, just the way you like it in front of you with a little smile - you knew you had this man wrapped around your finger within seconds of meeting him.
why were you here tonight, though?
well, a few hours ago you got a hefty deposit into your bank account of a few hundred thousand dollars - for a job well done, of course. earlier on in the quiet morning of that same day, you had murdered a man on the floor of his apartment without leaving a single trace as per requested by a few...not so good people.
this was just another day on the job. nothing new, nothing special. but still, you wanted to celebrate - getting paid is getting paid! however - your celebration plans were cut short when a certain contact reached out to you. grabbing your phone after hearing it buzz, you read the message and sigh.
hey gorgeous. need a favour. i'm in some serious shit. it's roman by the way.
sent 4:58 pm.
roman was a man who you had worked with a few times - a pretty well known guy in the mafia, not that you had any business with them but hey, sometimes it didn't hurt to work together. especially when it brought in twice the payout.
hey. hm, what u need?
sent 5:01 pm.
you quickly sent off your response, and within a few minutes roman had texted you back.
some fucking guy got some info about the drugs i was bringing in. dunno anything bout him but he works for that organization i was telling u bout last week.
sent 5:09 pm.
oh that kill for hire bullshit one or wtvr? lol. ok. send me info. when u need him gone by?
sent 5:15 pm.
i dont really need him dead...i just need him to disappear. if shit gets fucked up, then yeah kill him but for now i need you to find out what he knows and who his contacts are. then we can take em all out. i'll pay u 5 mil if u do this right.
sent 5:31 pm.
with a sigh, you quickly hit him back with an "okay," and he wasted no time sending you the information on the guy he was after. you learned the name of your target, and where he'd be tonight.
"let me guess, you didn't actually plan on taking your card out to pay?" a smooth voice says to you, causing you to glance over to see a man matching the description that roman had sent to you earlier on in the day.
you scoff, playfully of course, and roll your eyes. "i was hoping the handsome stranger across the bar would be the one to offer up his card - but i guess the bartender will have to do."
he smirks at you, his crystal blue eyes still striking in the dimly lit bar, and he sticks his hand out to shake yours.
"jackson." he tells you, and you shake his hand softly, "jackson...?" you trail off, eluding that you wanted a last name, not that he knew you needed this information for conformation. "rippner. i guess my parents hated me. but i killed them," he pauses, "- kidding." and with that, he laughs softly, his dimples evident.
bingo.
"well, jackson. it's nice to meet you." you say to him, and then you give him of your name, to which he asks you another question. "just curious - what do you do for a living? modelling or something like that, surely?"
the question makes you take in a breath, and you answer promptly. "ah, flattering - but no. i work in finance. i'm an accountant."
"an accountant? god, you could be a model, hon." he laughs, leaning closer to you - hand now resting on your thigh. god, he's sleazy, you think to yourself.
"mm, thank you. you're not so bad yourself mr. rippner." you force yourself to say, phoney smile and all, chugging down the rest of your martini to ease the discomfort.
"what do you say we get you another one? on me this time, of course." he says lowly, close to your ear, which made you shiver. "i'll take you up on that offer." you tell him.
the night flew by, the two of you talked endlessly - with him constantly touching you in some way. he kept you topped up on martinis while he got his preferred drink; whiskey on the rocks.
"you know, i think you should come home with me tonight, hon." he whispers against your lips, your back pushed up against the brick wall in the cramped hallway of the dark bar. the two of you ended up like this because...well he was hot, and you were willing to do anything to get the information you needed. if it took a little kissing to get there, so be it.
"i think so too." you whisper back breathessly.
however, you'd come to somewhat regret those words by the next morning as you woke up in this strangers (debatable) bed - naked and tangled up in the sheets with him arm around you and a killer headache.
i'm hungover as fuck, you thought to yourself, eyes adjusting to the morning light drifting through the curtains.
"mornin." his raspy voice said, as he softly opened his eyes, taking you in.
gotta go gotta go gotta go!
leave!
get out!
the little voice in your head plagued you - but you knew it was the right thing to do. "hey," was all you managed to say, before trying to get up out of his grip and out of his bed, frantically searching for your dress, expensive shoes, clutch and jewelry.
quickly sliding the garment back on, you grab your belonging and shove them into your clutch, stumbling to get your high heels on as he watched you.
"...uh, so nice...meeting you, i guess." he says to you - a little awkwardly. usually, could not care less if a woman was in a rush to leave his place, in fact, he was usually the one rushing them out the door. but for some reason, he couldn't seem to do that to you because you'd beat him to it.
"yeah, nice." you tell him, your head clouded with thoughts. you fucked up.
you slept with the one person you shouldn't have slept with - and you left with no information for roman. maybe today would be the day you got killed.
"wait." jackson says suddenly, "do...i have your number? can i text you later?" jackson didn't know why he said this, he sounded like some desperate loser who'd never felt the touch of a woman before.
as you were about to say "no, and i don't want to give it to you," an idea popped into your head. maybe you didn't fuck up, after all.
"no, but..." you smile softly with a pause, "i'm sorry. i'm just in a rush because i don't usually do this and it's kind of embarrassing. but um-"
"don't go." he says, almost in a begging manner, getting up out of the bed with just his plaid pyjama pants hanging loosely off his waist. "i mean, you can if you want. but i'd like to see you again."
you didn't realize this so called "dangerous assassin leader" was that...easy? lonely? desperate? all of the above?
"take me out sometime, then." you tell him, to which he smiles and says; "yeah, you're not working tonight, right?"
"tonight?" you said, a little surprised, "i'm not working, no..."
"then i'll pick you up at 8." he tells you plainly, his gaze never leaving yours.
"...erm- okay." you say with a breathless laugh, and soon enough, you were doing your walk of shame home. well, barely a walk of shame - he got you an uber to your place, so you didn't have to walk very much at all.
you would honestly rather die than walk down the street to flag down a cab in thousand dollar shoes and last nights dress.
that afternoon, whilst getting ready for your date with jackson, you gave roman a call and gave him a run down of your plan.
"what, like you're going to seduce the guy?" he asks over the phone. "yeah, cause think about it. if i get him to trust me - give his all to me, i think i'd get more information than if i were to just threaten him or hold him hostage." you inform roman, to which he surprisingly agrees with you.
"yeah- yeah, alright. that's actually not a bad idea at all. maybe we can get info on all the people he has working for him. take them out." he tells you, and you spend the next couple minutes on the phone going back and forth about it.
soon enough, it was nearly 8 o'clock. you'd texted jackson your address prior to your date, and he said he'd be there to pick you up. you stepped out the door looking like a million dollars - hair done in your signature style, makeup just how you liked it, saint laurent heels on, and a sexy outfit to match.
when jackson stepped out of his vehicle to open the passenger door for you, his heart stopped.
"you look incredible." he says in awe, opening the door for you, and you politely smile at him, "you're gonna make me blush."
the date went surprisingly well, the two of you definitely hit it off - well, he was under that impression anyway...but so were you.
jackson was notorious for his "fuckboy" personality; he never cared to have a girlfriend or any sort of commitment as casual sex just seemed so much...better. no strings attached, he could see whoever else he wanted, he could focus on his job without distractions.
but- there was something about you. you didn't chase after him, in fact, you were the one who tried to leave as soon as you woke up in his bed. jackson wasn't used to that, he wasn't used to a woman who was just like him.
"i'd love to see you again sometime." jackson says softly, hand on your thigh as he drove you back to your place post-date. he kept his gaze locked on the dark road ahead of him. glancing over at him from the passenger seat, you take a deep breathe. as wrong as it was - you thought he was so sexy. he was gorgeous, no doubt about it.
"yeah, i'd like that." you say back to him in a flirtatious voice, to which he hums in agreement.
you really had your work cut out for you - but that's okay. you were willing to play the long game here.
"oh my god, jackson-" his name fell from your lips as you laid under him, a moaning, begging mess.
"tell me how good it feels, honey." he coos to you as he keeps himself deep inside - the tip of his cock bruising your cervix. you could feel yourself getting close already.
"feels so good, daddy." you pant as his cock rearranges your insides. the way he was splitting you open was delicious.
but you had to remind yourself - this wasn't real. this was your job. this was purely...work.
"so good for me, honey. fuck- you're so tight." he hisses, feeling your cunt tighten up around his cock, indicating you were close. "cum for me, baby. show daddy who you belong to."
"please please please - fuck!" you were screaming now, not caring who heard you as he took you in his bed, fucking you in an animalistic way.
his words - mixed with the way he was rearranging your insides, caused you to make a mess all over his cock. as jackson felt you cream his cock, he felt himself unable to hold in his own release.
"good girl, honey. gonna fill this tight little pussy up with my cum. god, i love you." he moans, after giving you a few more harsh thrusts. you felt spurts of his warm cum fill you up, cock twitching as he kept stuffing your cunt.
after he came down from his high, he pulled out and pulled you close to him, the both of you laying naked in the king-sized bed. the post-sex clarity hit you suddenly - and you were trying your hardest to fight it off.
you didn't love him - god, no. never. you didn't even know how to love. you murdered people for a living; love didn't exist in your world. however, the man who held you in his arms was feeling quite the opposite, or so he had gotten you to think
he was falling in love with you. fuck that - he already fell in love with you. yes, the two of you had similar if not the same line of work, but that didn't mean that jackson was immune to you. that didn't mean he was safe from the way you made him feel. you had him right where you wanted.
or so you thought.
maybe the line between love - and sick, twisted obsession was closer than you thought.
you were making secret calls to roman every second that jackson was away at work. jackson lied (partially), and told you that he worked as a ceo for a company that distributed pharmaceuticals. he was technically a ceo of a company - just not that one he had told you.
he let you think that he was still under the impression you were an accountant - and most days, you would "work from home" while he went out to work his "ceo" job.
you slammed the laptop shut as soon as you heard the keys in the door, and jackson stepped into his apartment dressed in his usual dress shirt, blazer, and slacks.
"miss me?" he teased, shutting the door behind him, coming over to kiss you softly on the couch. "missed you, baby." you assure him, even though you just spent the whole day sending roman pictures of all the contacts listed in jacksons laptop - along with some other useful information.
"sweetheart," he softly says to you, "i love you." your breath hitches in your throat, but you collect yourself quickly. "i love you too, jackson."
he smiles at you lovingly, and takes your hand in his. "i can't believe were going to be married in 3 months." he whispers, kissing your neck softly. you swallow, looking at the huge diamond that shone brightly on your ring finger. "i can't wait to spend forever with you." you lie, letting him place sloppy kisses all over your neck.
but...there was more truth to those words than you realized.
you'd spent the last year and a half seducing this man and getting him to fall for you - fall for you so hard that he ended up proposing to you - in which you didn't really have any choice but to say yes. play the part, you always told yourself.
"i knew i wasn't ever going to let you go when i first met you." he whispers, hand creeping up to grab a hold of your neck. you let yourself fall into his touch; jackson often liked to choke you leading up to and during sex, it was something the both of you were into.
"yeah, me too, baby." you whisper, feeling him give your neck a little squeeze. he let out a breathy chuckle, and squeezed a little harder.
"mmm, when roman sent me your picture saying he needed you gone, i knew i couldn't kill you. look at that pretty face," he coos, looking directly at you, "and that body - my god, i knew i was gonna keep you here as mine when i fucking saw you."
your heart stopped the second you heard him - and you stammer, feeling like you were actually suffocating now. "w-what?"
"i know who you really are, sweetheart." he grows, putting more pressure onto your neck.
"roman works for me."
your blood ran cold.
how could you not have known? you thought you could trust roman - how naive were you?
you should've known better not to trust people in the same seedy business you were involved in.
"silly girl," he coos mockingly, "you should thank me, you know. he wanted to kill you; have you go missing so that he could cash in. you know how many people have put out hits on you, right?"
you knew this was true. working in a business like the one you did, you make a lot of enemies - especially when you were one of the best in the game.
"i-i can e-explain-" you try and get the words out, but before you get to it, he chokes you harshly cutting off your air supply momentarily.
"you're good at what you do, you know that? but if you think you're actually better than me at this - you're fucking delusional." he spat, finally letting his grip go slightly around your neck, but still choking you softly. "but that's okay - i know. you're just a girl, after all."
"i-i thought you l-loved m-me." you say, stammering with broken words as you tried to breathe properly through his deathly grip.
"of course i love you, honey. that hasn't changed. if i didn't love you, i wouldn't have convinced roman to let you live." he informs you, "you really thought you were going to get me? hm? you've spent the last fucking year and a half sending my men so called 'blackmail' and 'information' about me."
suddenly, you felt a cold piece of metal pressed up against the side of your head, making you whimper. a gun. "it was my idea, to keep you distracted so that we could take you and whoever your working with down." he brags, "now that they're all out of the way," he whispers coldly, "it's just you that's left - and you're of no use to me dead. do you understand, baby?"
you nod your head, tears starting to roll down your face to which he coos at you. "oh, honey - there's no need to cry. you'll be happier like this." he pushes the gun harder against your temple. "everyone thinks your dead, so don't bother trying to escape. but, i have to say, what a payout that was. you really are priceless, sweetheart. i had all those people that had hits out on you send me millions. they must've really wanted you gone." he laughs lowly.
you sat there, gun pressed up against your head, and tears rolling down your face. "just pull the fucking trigger - i choose death." you whisper, and he shakes his head.
"i'd never do that to you, honey." he tells you, "unless you step out of line, of course. but you're a good girl. i doubt you ever would, especially not to your husband-to-be." the words made you sob harder than before, and before you knew it, he was slowly putting the gun down, and holding you with a tight grip - as he tried strip you down, painfully slow.
"now, here's how your new life will be, honey." he says, slipping your clothes off, leaving you in just your bra and panties. "oh- you naughty girl. you know how much i like this set." he ran his hands over the matching red lace set, and continued talking. "as i was saying - you'll love it like this, living the way a woman should. you'll be my little housewife, cooking and taking care the home for me while i'm out at work. i'll get us a bigger place - don't worry. i'm well aware we'll need more space for our kids."
you felt your heart sink at his words, "j-jackson, w-why are you doing this? just kill me, it's easier.."
he grabbed your face harshly, making you look directly at him. "shut the fuck up. i'm not done." he spat. "and say goodbye to those contraceptives - you're not going to need those when were married. how am i supposed to breed you, hm? stuff you with my kids? god, you really are fucking stupid. you're going to die by my side, i hope you know that. you'll make a cute little housewife, i can tell. you make a cute hostage, too." he pauses again, looking at you with faux sympathy, biting his lip as he saw the tears streaming down your face.
"no need fight it, honey. you don't need to hide how much you like this. you knew who i was when you first met me, you knew what i was capable of, but you stayed..."
you just sobbed harder at his words as his hands pawed at your tits. it was shameful how wet this whole situation was actually making you - but that was besides the point. as he watched you slowly lose your sanity, he whispered one last thing to you.
"you're going to die trapped in my arms, honey. don't you forget it."
#cillian murphy#cillian murphy x reader#cillian x reader#jonathan crane x f!reader#jonathan crane x reader#cillian fic#cillian murphy fanfic#cillian murphy imagine#cillian x fem!reader#dr jonathan crane#jackson rippner#jackson rippner x reader#jackson rippner x f!reader#jackson rippner x female reader#jackson rippner x you#red eye
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you, my golden hour
Rancher!Javier Peña x Cowgirl!Reader
summary: 1997. as a fallen rodeo star, you can handle anything - except maybe your city’s hometown hero
warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY MDNI, Post Season 3 Javi works on his family’s ranch AU, unspecified age gap (only age mention is reader can drink and Javi is older), major pining & yearning, emotional hurt & comfort, light angst with tender fluff, reader has a backstory and family, no physical description of reader but gendered language is used and reader can ride a horse, use of pet/nicknames, mention/description of rodeo accident, themes of dealing with burnout, small texas town toxicity, light Spanish use, reader & javi having insecurities they bond/heal over, bar scene with alcohol consumption, spicy moments with allusions to smut, intense makeout where Javi gets handsy, soft!Javi, dreamy & protective!Javi
word count: 10.2k (I’m sorry)
a/n: the second installment of ‘let’s rodeo’ and my love letter to Javi & Texas, the heart of this series - this fic is near & dear to me and I just appreciate getting the chance to write this, so to @lowlights @ahauntedcowboy & @perotovar for giving me the courage to post this know I’m so grateful… and to you reading this thank you, so dearly appreciate you too ♡
You haven’t thought of Javier Peña in years.
Older than you, he was handsome and had a smile that rivaled the Texas Friday night lights. He eventually hooked up with the number one town sweetheart who was even rumored to have won a local state beauty contest.
By the time you heard of their engagement, you already had started your plans for the circuits, for the road. You didn’t mourn or even feel heartbroken over the news.
Even after that, the rodeo consumed you. It kept you in a tornado like whirl for years until that fateful day it spat you out.
When that ride stopped, Javier Peña came back into your mind with a strange fog-like entrance.
While still on bed rest, the news on the TV had been showing a small special on the War on Drugs and the lull of it filled the room.
Your grandmother was the one who brought him up.
“That’s what Chucho’s son is involved in.”
“Wait, Javier Peña’s into drugs?” You asked a bit confused even without the pain killers.
“No. He’s going after the people who sell drugs.” She clarified.
Oh.
“He also didn’t get married either. Do you remember?” She had added.
You did. You heard he left the little Miss Homecoming Queen at the altar. Quite a scandal that made him the talk of the town for a while.
Then he became a big shot drug enforcer who took down one of the largest drug cartels in history and he again became the talk of the town.
It’s been a few years since your accident and now Javier Peña is back home.
Now driving into the Peña ranch you feel both so young, yet so aged at the same time, like you’re stuck between two realities.
Your sister bounces out of the truck with uncontainable glee and you’re grateful she’s excited.
Chucho Peña comes to greet everyone. His classic cream cowboy hat and gentle smile are all a beautiful welcome. It’s also adorable seeing your grandpa reunite with his old friend.
Señor Peña’s kind eyes eventually land on you with a sweet twinkle.
“It’s good to see you, mija.”
You’ve always adored Chucho Peña.
His son on the other hand…
You never knew Javier enough to fully know him. Even with his dad and your grandpa being pals, the years between you and Javier didn’t help. He existed outside your orbit, a figure almost out of reach.
“And that son of yours!?” Your grandpa of course perks up asking about him.
“Ah sí Javi’s here, just out in the stables.” Chucho explains casually.
The last time you physically saw Javier Peña he was walking out of the bank. You’d been waiting in your family truck when he stepped out. By that point, a small bit of shadow was forming against his jaw and upper lip as his facial hair began to grow thick. He was a young man on the verge of stepping into the threshold of being grown.
Now before you he’s a fully grown man.
For a minute you think the man in the barn is someone else because it doesn’t seem like Javier.
Yet when he turns, you see his eyes.
Rich soil of the earth stunning eyes and you know it’s him.
His body has filled out and his shoulders even look broader. He sports a similar mustache like his father’s and it adds to his older appearance. There’s a weathered weariness on his face evident in the wrinkles carved out by his eyes and on his forehead.
The button up shirt he’s wearing allows a peek at his chest and his skin shines with sweat from the Texas sun already shining its warmth.
He’s breathtakingly stunning and you can’t take your eyes off him.
He warmly greets your grandpa with a wide smile that touches his eyes and brightens his face. He’s still that charming young man you saw, a brilliant comet out of your galaxy.
But then his gaze lands on you and his eyes narrow. A conflicting recognition and confusion swirl in his eyes. He knows you, seems to remember you, but not fully.
His dad clarifies your name and you deflate a bit. Then Javier’s eyes go wide and his eyebrows shoot into his hairline.
So, he does remember you.
“Oh, yeah. Good to see you.” He nods fully realizing who you are.
“Guess the horse must be for you then?” Javier adds and your heart sinks a bit.
A grimace tugs on your face but you try recovering quickly.
“No mijo,” Chucho thankfully answers quick and gentle. “I told you, it’s for her hermanita.”
You grin small and tight in agreement.
“Oh…yeah of course.” He nods.
Your little sister immediately jumps in bright and eager to share her excitement. Thankfully the focus effortlessly shifts to her and the reason why you’re all here.
The horse is beautiful, playful and eager for attention. This first meeting already feels good. Of course, everyone holds their breaths when your sister goes for the ride.
And it couldn’t have gone more smoothly.
You even exhale relieved.
“You seemed nervous.” A smooth warm voice comes out besides you.
As you lean against the ring’s fence you discover Javier Peña moving to rest beside you.
“Just like the first day of school kinda nerves. Want to make sure everything goes smoothly.” You answer as your sister effortlessly trots around the ring with ease.
“Yeah, I bet. They already seem to be clicking.” Javier notes genuine and you’re grateful too.
Your grandfather now calls out to you.
Both you and Javier turn towards where the older men stand close to each other like conspiring headaches.
“To celebrate, we’re having dinner here!” Your grandpa cheers happily and a dread drop kicks your heart.
Immediately you stammer out panicked about how you all can’t impose.
“No pasa nada, mija.” Senor Peña gently reassures you saying not to worry. “Besides, you’re all more than welcome here. It’s been a while since Javi and I had guests.”
You don’t miss the unashamed hum Javier makes.
“And grandma?” You reply, trying to reach for more excuses not to stay.
“She can walk.” Your sister teases suddenly and you give her a sharp look.
“Will you go pick her up, please?” Your grandpa gives you his best pleading face before simply throwing the truck keys to you
Stubborn old man.
“Hijo,” Señor Peña calls out again, but this time to his son. “You should go too.”
Shit.
“No Pop, it’s okay!” Javi politely declines and you want to second that.
“Aye,” His dad chides and then he pointedly gives Javier a look that screams - Don’t be rude, go with her.
Damn.
The walk to the truck is quiet, awkward as hell, feels like two parents shoving their kids together to play nice.
Heading into the main part of town, silence fills most of the drive. You're also mentally kicking yourself for not getting the radio fixed last week like you should’ve.
“So uh, your grandma…still volunteering at the women’s shelter?” Until Javier offers a small branch of conversation.
“Yup.” You nod.
“Oh good, that’s good.” He replies.
But silence returns.
“So, you taking a break from the rodeo then? Pop used to tell me about you all the time.” Javier comments light, casual.
You feel like a cat with its hairs standing up. But even with that sensation, knowing Señor Peña spoke so fondly of you does simmer the sting.
“Sort of.” You decide to rip this off like a bandaid, get it over with now. “Had a bad accident a while back. Still haven’t decided if I wanna return.”
It’s been two years since you’ve been home.
“Oh…” Javier’s voice drops, the same way everyone does when you tell them.
“I’m sorry.” Except you’re surprise at how sincerely soft his voice is. “I thought I heard something about it. I should’ve fucking remembered… Sorry.”
He apologizes again, surprising you once more as genuine repentance floats off his voice.
You thank him understandingly. After all, it's one of the better responses you’ve been given. But you don’t want to dig into this, especially with him, so you quickly change the conversation.
“So how long are you here for? I’m sure there must be other drug cartels waiting for you to take them down.” You offer casual.
Not only had he taken down Pablo Escobar a while back, you briefly heard of his very recent grand move against the other cartel in Columbia.
He’s impressive, the town’s hero and golden boy.
“Uh actually, I’m retired. Gonna take a step back for a bit.” Javier answers just as polite and calm as you had answered him.
Oh. You hadn’t heard that. Or maybe you did and forgot.
You now feel like the foolish one and genuinely congratulate him.
“It takes a lot to decide when to step away. Besides, you deserve a break after all you did.” You mean those words.
After all, they were the same comforting words his father told you when you came back home.
A pause fills the truck and you worry you’ve maybe overstepped.
“I…yeah.” Javier breathes out. “Thanks. Appreciate that.”
Your heart flutters at how small and genuine he sounds.
“So…how about them Dallas Cowboys, huh?” Javier offers light and for some reason you laugh.
It’s not much, but it feels like a lifeline.
When you arrive to pick up your grandmother she gasps so giddy when she sees the surprise guest with you. Her excitement lights up the drive while she talks about her day taking full advantage of having Javier listening to her.
“Oh I’m so glad you’re back home safe Javi!” She gushes and then says your name.
You’re already panicking.
“With so many of your friends living out of town, maybe you’ll get to spend more time back in the city with Javier!?” She offers to you brightly and absolute horror seizes your heart.
Shooting a petrified face at her you silently plead for this discussion to die.
Javier in the back seat weakly laughs. Because of course Javier, ever the gentleman, had your grams sitting up front.
“Oh don’t give me that look.” Your grandma playfully teases back at you. “At least go rent a movie with him.”
The thought crosses your mind about turning around and dropping her back off.
“Did you know,” Javier innocently jumps in. “The first ever blockbuster was opened in Dallas?”
Your grandma coos in awe as if he’s just explained a miracle.
“See! Now you have to go with him to one!” She urges.
A horrified indignant noise escapes you. While behind you, Javier snickers even more and you’re tempted to drop him off on the side of the road to let the coyotes feast on him.
The minute you arrive at the Peña’s home you can’t get out of the truck fast enough.
Dinner fortunately goes smooth and you’re surprised at how eased the rest of the time unfolds. You do hate how many times your eyes flicker towards Javier like if you’re still trying to soak him in.
Then, from across the table, Javier’s gaze flickers to you fast catching you staring red handed. Your heart transforms into a jackrabbit, petrified and thumping fast, almost making you flee right then and there.
Until your grandpa addresses you. His warm eyes dance with a surprise in his gaze.
“We’ve decided to have some of your sister's training here.”
Your heart now skips over itself.
Your gramps and sister both explain the plan hatched while you were on the road. In order to get used to competing in different spaces, your sister decided to train here at the Peña’s.
You’re hesitant, but understand the logic. You’re even impressed. But you can’t pinpoint why you’re so nervous about this.
Señor Peña now calls to you, sensing your hesitation, and tenderly grins.
“Don’t worry mija,” his kind eyes crinkle with understanding. “It’s no trouble at all.”
His reassurance is grace and you smile back relieved while thanking him deeply.
“Seems like you’re the boss here.” Javier suddenly joins in with a casual tone and you freeze.
“Well yeah, that’s my coach you’re talking to.” Your sister proudly declares.
“Coach?” Javier’s voice perks up curious.
“Yeah.” You answer with a small smile. “That’s me.”
“Been barking orders at me all these years so why not put her in charge.” Your sister innocently adds and in pure sobbing annoyance you want to shove her face into her plate.
Thankfully everyone laughs, illuminating the room.
But you’re faced with a new reality. You’re going to be here more, seeing Javier Peña more.
And you don’t know how you feel about that yet.
-
The Peña ranch in the morning sits tranquil and the peace gives you the focus on training.
You’re surprised at how good your sister and the mare already bond. You explain a few drills and have your sister run a few repetitions of them.
“You sound like a tough one.” Javier’s voice surprises you and you almost jump over the fence.
Glancing back, he approaches you with two thermoses.
“Pop and I thought you might need an extra pick me up.” He offers and you can’t help but greedily grab at it.
“Tell your dad thanks and that he’s a saint.”
Javier snorts at your reply.
Now your focus returns to your sister. You recommend a type of turning drill vividly remember doing yourself. Your sister playfully salutes you and begins.
“How she looking, coach?” Him calling you ‘coach’ draws a dangerous electricity that snaps up your spine.
“Don’t call me coach.” You dryly tell him trying to keep yourself composed.
“Well isn’t that what you are?” He teases casually.
Your face scrunches up annoyed while his eyes crinkle amused.
“Don’t you have things to do, Javier Peña?” You sigh, already exhausted of this man.
“Javi…you can just call me Javi, coach.”
You’re tempted to childishly scoot away from him. Younger you would have never imagined he was this annoying.
“Don’t call me coach.” You dully repeat.
“Okay, coach.”
Now you contemplate just shoving him away.
But all the annoyance washes away when commotion hits. The horse makes a disgruntled whinny and immediately both you and Javier whip your attention towards the ring. Your sister calmly stays on the saddle, gently soothing down her companion.
After asking if she’s good, her eased thumbs up reassures you. She does a few trots to calm everyone down. You even exhale relieved.
“You lost in thought?” Javier comments.
“Yeah.” You answer him with a mutter. “Just thinking.”
“About?”
You almost don’t tell him. But you surprise yourself and do.
You explain the type of pace that comes with training in barrel racing. There’s a pattern and method to it all. You don’t realize you’ve rambled until you blink and realize Javier stares so directly at you. His eyebrows furrow slightly as if he’s focused hard listening to your words.
Embarrassed, you’re about to stammer out an apology when Javier whistles low.
“You know your fucking shit.” He nods appreciatively and hearing his pride ignites something dangerous in your chest.
Another surprise sharp whistle comes. Out from the barn, a further ways away, Chucho stands staring out. He even waves at you and you wave back.
“You gonna work today, hijo?” He calls out.
Javier curses under his breath.
“Busted.” You joke and now he’s the one side eying you.
“Please you’re the one slacking off here!” Your baby sister suddenly complains loud and cheeky “You’re not getting paid by the hour, coach!”
“Guess we’re both in trouble.” Javier snickers.
You roll your eyes but quickly sneer at your smiling sister.
“Alright then. See ya later…bandita.” Javier already walks away by the time you hear his goodbye.
But it hits you.
He thankfully stopped calling you coach. But now, what replaced it…
Little Bandit.
The nickname rips through you with a barbed fierceness you’re not prepared for.
The rest of the month follows this same routine.
On training days Javier shows up with something for you to drink. Once he even came with a few goods from the bakery across town.
No matter what, he watches practice with you for as long as he can before getting called back to the ranch.
During these moments together, he asks about how the turns are made or why you correct your sister when you do. It’s friendly. You actually start enjoying his company especially when your grandfather so eagerly leaves to hang out with Chucho instead.
The greetings and thanks are always the same.
“Thanks, Peña.”
“Javi,” he patiently corrects you everytime.
You can’t bring yourself to call him that just yet.
At the start of the new month everyone sleeps in and arrives later to the Peña’s ranch.
This time you’ve brought more barrels. Thankfully you can move them with the help of your sister. Suddenly besides you, boots clamor onto the truck and rapidly you snap your attention to the source of the sound.
Javier Peña smoothly climbs up to help you with the rest of the barrels.
He’s in a striking soft purple button up shirt. Sweat already shines against his bare arms. Thick worn in working gloves cover his hands. His hair seems a bit curlier today and he wears aviator sunglasses that suit his face.
Effortlessly Javier grabs onto one and lifts it by himself.
You’re stunned. Even your sister stops and stares just as surprised.
Javier is strong. Doesn’t seem like the muscular type but he’s built and radiates a type of seasoned strength of a well grown man, a rancher man.
His arms firmly hold the barrel, sturdy and toned, and you can’t look away.
“Where d’ya want me to put it?” Javier yells and you trip out of your thoughts to dumbly point where the barrel needs to be placed.
Your grandfather whistles proudly seeing Javier.
“If this rancher thing doesn’t work out for you Jav, you got the makings of a fine rodeo man.” Your grandpa teases.
Javier chuckles, with his eyes averted a bit bashful.
“Could add him to the team.” Your grandpa notes with a twinkling gleam of something mischievous.
You reply a dry no as you move to get off the truck.
In a flash, Javier jogs over and immediately reaches his hand out to help you get down. Placing your hand in his, Javier helps you down and you thank him.
He’s wearing gloves. This shouldn’t feel so significant. Yet the way he firmly holds your hand makes your heart sprout wings.
Even back on the solid dirt ground your legs don’t feel as if they’re under you.
Javier doesn’t stick around after that and you’re allowed to focus.
It’s later in the day, later than the usual practice times, and the Texas sun beats down with a fierceness. You call for more water breaks to keep everyone hydrated.
During a break, a rustling catches your attention. There towards the barn, Javi moves in and around the place.
You just catch the smallest glimpse of him with a hammer in his hand as he heads into the smaller enclosure. Curiosity gets the best of you.
Grabbing another water bottle you justify it as wanting to be polite, but curiosity gnaws at you.
The clang of hammering approaches louder and louder until you spot him in a goat pen. He hammers in a reinforced slab, probably fixing a hole. His back to you allows a glorious full sight of his broad shoulders at work.
He even switches to a drill and watching him casually use power tools, you never thought you’d find this so attractive.
One of the goats nearby makes a blep of a noise at your appearance and you almost want to shush them.
Javier glances over his shoulders spotting you.
“Hey there, bandita. Qué pasó?” he nods at you as the nickname flares up your heart.
“Just…knew how hot it was getting and gramps told me just to check up on you.” You lie waving the water bottle.
Javier turns to face you and you’re greeted with the sight of his full sweaty glory. You should be turned off seeing how bad his shirt sticks to him, how he smells of hay and dirt, but it’s incredibly hot.
The hard work of his day evident on every inch of him brews a dark cloud of desire in you.
“Oh well, tell your gramps thanks.” He replies snagging the water bottle from you.
His plus lips, the glorious sight of his thick slick neck, and the movement of the sweat just covering him as he drinks from the water bottle…
Getting this weak over the sight of him just drinking a water bottler you now think is the lowest you can go. You wonder about walking down by the river nearby and just jumping in to cool down.
From a distance, your sister yells out for you.
“Duty calls.” Javier smirks. With a sheepish smile you shrug then wave a quick goodbye.
You practically run out of that barn like a fleeing field mouse.
Later that night, alone in your room, your fingers slip under your sheets to slide under your sleep shorts. You imagine licking the sweat off Javier’s neck, picture his thick strong fingers, that fix up barns, hoist up barrels, and wonder how thick they would feel inside you.
You fall into desire’s blissful sticky release.
When you shower the next morning, you rationalize that those thoughts of Javier simply come from needing to scratch an itch.
Besides, you couldn’t get tangled with Javier. He’s older. He’s Laredo’s golden boy. He doesn’t go after broken cowgirls like you.
In the shower you turn the heat up more. A part of you hopes it will scorch off the building desire in your heart.
-
The morning is muggy, a soupy cloudy early day begging you to curl back into bed. Soft chirping echoes of the mockingbirds fill the air. You opted for earlier practices this week so your sister could prepare for a trip with her friends coming up. You agreed, wanting her to still enjoy moments outside of this.
“You out here all alone, bandita?” Javier.
He breaks the morning’s stillness. Holding his routine two drinks, he approaches you bundled up in a nice jacket that flatters him.
Thanking him, you greedily grab the drink and savor its warmth.
You explain that your sister is free roaming around the ranch this morning and it’s why you’re all alone. You stare at the empty riding area where the dirt sits holy and untouched.
“Do you miss it?” Javier asks. His voice is quietly probing, gentle as the morning mist.
That question holds a million answers all tied up in a messy knot.
“Sometimes.” You answer truthfully because you did. You missed the adrenaline, the wind blowing past you, speeding around a barrel so fast it was like you were out running the wind.
“Can I ask…” Javier and his soft, kind voice presses on. “What happened?”
Might as well. You’re now sort of friends with Javier even though the word feels sticky in your heart.
“You know that saying about how you just gotta get back on the horse? Well it's easier said than done.” You mutter.
It happened during a ride in Arizona. You’ve fallen and wrecked before. But this one just felt different. You took a barrel close and then everything slipped away. You remember being on the saddle, remember feeling your body float. Then the world went dark.
You woke up to a nasty concussion, a broken arm, and a couple of rowdy scrapes. You don’t remember your foot getting caught in the stirrup, but that’s what had happened.
“Holy fuck...” Javier breathes out, the weight of your words hang in his. “Shit I’m sorry.”
You thank him earnestly and reassure him it’s fine, just unfortunate shit like that happens. Everyone knew how dangerous the sport could get. The rodeo was a rough ride and every cowboy knew that.
But for you, you just couldn’t shake it off.
“I’m glad you made it out.” Sincerity blooms in his voice and your lips tug grateful at how considerate he is as you thank him again.
“You haven’t gone back?” Now he dances on a tight line.
“Nope. I tried after getting the clearance from the doctors but… it just didn’t go well.” You truthfully tell him.
You didn’t want to ride anymore, didn’t want to face everyone or the pressure of the race or the terror swallowing you whole. It felt as if you were burnt dry and exhausted from the inside out.
Your grandma gently embraced you and held you for what felt like hours.
“Then don’t go. You don’t have to do anything that makes you this worried and sick. Nothing is worth you being this scared, not even the damn rodeo.” She told you tenderly and with the most profoundly kind smile. You cried out of relief.
“It’s brave,” Javier says so firmly understanding. “Making a decision like that is really fucking brave, hard as fuck too.”
You gently grin and thank him again while blinking away a few tears.
“Same goes for you too.” You tell him.
From your gramps, who had gotten the full story from Chucho, you learned more about what happened with Javier and his final days in Columbia.
“I don’t know much but, what you did was brave too.” Your voice comes out softer than you expected.
He barks a laugh now. It’s dry, bitter, and can catch fire.
“Doesn't feel like it.”
You understand maybe more than he even knows. So you think about maybe what you would’ve told yourself.
“You did what was right.” You begin. “Everyone else might judge you or say shit but it doesn't matter. You’re not meant to please everyone or do what everyone expects you to do. And if that’s seen as a bad thing then…I don’t know, fuck them and fuck that.”
You say it so simply Javier busts out laughing. It’s a true blue laugh, so sweet it crinkles his beautiful dirt road eyes.
You’ve never seen him laugh like this before. And he’s beautiful.
You join in snickering as well but try to ignore the butterflies suddenly nesting in your stomach.
He’s really such a dream. A carved out Texas man so seasoned from the world, yet he still stays so kind and devoted to his family.
You get why many in the town, especially the girls during your time in high school, are all over him. Now you’re afraid you might’ve fallen into the same pit traps they did.
You’re falling under the spell of Javier Peña.
“So you’re really not going back to catching drug dealers and what not?” You ask when the laughter settles.
“I could’ve.” Javi answers. “Damn DEA would’ve taken me back. But…I just couldn’t see a future with it anymore.”
“And now here I am.” He says with a boyish soft grin.
“Now here you are”. You repeat with a nod.
“Well, I’m glad you’re here.” You truthfully tell him. You knew his dad worried about him. But the quiet truth is that you’re grateful for this time getting to know him now.
His eyes soften and your heat bursts.
“Thanks, glad I’m here. Glad you’re here too, bandita.” Then he softly nudges you. It’s playfully, friendly but it’s his words that almost take you out by the knees.
“Anyway, the government’s dumb. They don't deserve you.” You nod and Javier snorts amused.
“Guess I should listen to a cowgirl like you.” He teases.
You shrug. “Some people say I’m not one anymore.”
Especially because you didn’t ride anymore.
“Fuck them and fuck that.” He repeats your words and your lips twitch with a bubbling giggle.
Right now, it feels like you and him are two lonely birds sitting on a wire. Yet there’s something comforting about it, knowing it’s with him.
Then it dawns on you. You enjoy spending time with him. You know there’s desire already trickling in for him. But now he’s becoming someone precious to you.
You can’t even deny that anymore.
“Thanks, Javi.”
You don’t miss the way his eyebrows shoot up high.
Thunder roars suddenly clashing into the air interrupting the moment.
The dark clouds now loom on the horizon and coat the morning in an impending murkiness.
“Guess a storm’s coming in.” Javi mumbles.
Thankfully your sister rides back in quick and Javi decides to do some final things around the ranch before the storm rolls in. Before the rain comes, you and your sister pack up quickly. But it’s too late.
The rain pours down in a blink, almost like a hole in the sky popped to let a faucet drain out. The wind even picks up dangerously quick. It’s chaotic trying to wrangle the hose back to the stables but you and your sister manage.
“Come inside!” Gramps yells from the Peña’s porch and you and your sister scurry to the shaded sanctuary.
“You coming in?” Your sister asks while drying herself off with a towel. You don’t move from your spot by the steps.
“I’ll be in a bit.” You reassure her. She glares suspiciously and you shoo her away.
Javi hasn’t come back yet.
Noises clang out from the barn. A poisonous worry erupts through you and immediately you rush back out into the rain.
Inside the barn Javi tries yanking up a barn ladder that’s fallen over. It’s sturdy, wooden, and stuck in a hard position.
You move to help. Without any words or having to explain anything you both, as a team, work to yank the ladder out. Patiently and slowly the ladder gets moved to a spot the wind won’t knock it over.
The rush of it all has you breathing heavy.
“Thanks bandita.”
You breathlessly laugh and turn to maybe make a joke about now becoming a ranch hand and stealing his job. But all words, all thoughts, die instantly.
Having to work together to push the ladder, you now notice how close you are to him.
The sight of Javi soaked to the bone from the rain is corruptible. His clothes stick to him showing off his thick frame and shoulders. His drenched hair now seems darker with the curls more pounced.
He’s also heavily breathing too.
Now his lips, how soft and wet they look, have you hypnotized.
The pattering rain pours down hard on the roof, the only noise in the barn. You notice a shift in Javier. His eyes ever so slightly soften, almost hazing over. You might just be imaging it, but his face gradually seems to lean closer. Or maybe, you’re the one leaning towards him.
You’re possessed with an ache to kiss him, to see how the rain tastes on his lips.
It’s just you and him, soaked to the bone. You probably look like a drenched mess of a creature, but you’ve never wanted someone this much.
“Aye!”
Chucho suddenly shouts out from outside the barn and your heart stops.
Like a skittish roadrunner, you scramble away fast from Javier and just in time. His dad walks in from the other side of the barn holding an umbrella with an extra in his hand.
“You kids okay?” He calls out.
Both you and Javi yell back, quickly moving towards the elder Peña.
“You two look like a couple of soaked barn cats.” Chucho teases.
You weakly laugh and thank him for the umbrella.
Javi grumbles at his dad while he grabs the umbrella to open it up. Ever chivalrous, Javier holds it above you and him. Yet the entire walk to the house is quiet.
Fuck. Did you ruin this tentative whatever was forming between you and him? Or were you just imagining things?
You stay quiet the rest of the time waiting out the storm.
“You okay?” Your sister, keen as always, notices.
You lie with a smile saying the weather’s getting to you. When in reality, it’s a man that has.
Because you can’t stop thinking about Javier Peña now.
-
The rain stays for the rest of the week and everyone takes the schedule changes with stride. Your sister even heads out earlier on her trip earlier during a lighter drizzle.
By Saturday night the storm settles down.
Your closest friend from high school, now back in town for the month, even calls your home phone begging you to take advantage of the better weather.
“Look, before I go back to Florida let’s enjoy a nice night out, yeah? Maybe play some pool?” She pleads.
It’s how you now find yourself at the bar. You haven’t gotten dressed up in a while and you’re reminded of how nice it feels.
As much as you jokingly fussed about going out, being with your best friend laughing at the bar is lovely.
Ricky, one of the bartenders, actually was in the same grade as you two and it’s nice reminiscing, snickering over a nice drink.
“So how’s it been hanging out with Mr. Hero of the town himself?” Your friend smirks.
You make an unamused face at her while Ricky perks up.
“Wait, who are you hanging out with?” He whispers excitedly.
“Javier Peña.” Excitedly, she spills and you roll your eyes when Ricky gasps.
“You’ve fallen for the guy half the county is in love with!?” He hisses. You hate it, but it’s true and tastes soberly cold.
“Okay but practically all of our class was and maybe still is in love with him.” Your best friend adds.
“Well y’all do remember, he left Lorraine Wilson at the altar right?” Ricky reminds everyone and your mouth turns acidic.
“Oh fuck you’re right.” Your friend whispers.
“Might be bad news.” Ricky tensely tells you.
You want to hiss that he’s not like that. He’s kind, a bit annoying, but with a good heart.
“Shit, speak of the devil and he shall appear.” Ricky says in a low awed tone.
Worried you whip around to see what caught his attention. Absolute horror drowns you.
Javi and another man step into the bar and you want to run.
Your best friend squeals excited beside you, but you can’t comprehend what she says. Javier has stolen your attention.
Ricky called him the devil and he does seem like an angel dipped in temptation.
The sleek blazer he wears is dressed down by his nice button up shirt and jeans. His hair is styled nice, seeming so soft and begging for someone’s fingers to run through it. A buzz swarms in your head seeing him outside the ranch looking this gorgeous.
That’s when he spots you. For a split moment you two see each other. His eyes widen and before anyone can react you whip back towards the bar.
“Looks like you’re about to fall outta your seat.” Ricky snickers and you death glare at him.
“Okay,” your friend nudges you. “The guy he’s with, I think that’s David Martinez. He was in Peña’s class right? He’s so hot now, what the fuck?” She breathes out.
You almost toast to that because you felt the same about Javier.
So you keep your head down, enjoy your drink and maybe wonder about suggesting that game of pool your best friend advertised.
“Would you two beauties be alright with a bit of company?” A sweet male voice comes out and immediately draws the attention to him.
Behind you stands Javier Peña and his friend.
David has always been kind to your family and his mom even worked with your grandma at the shelter. You appreciate that Javi still hangs out with him.
“Yes of course. We’d love some company, right?” Your friend brightly asks you and you smile polite.
Your heart however rages like it’s a wild bucking bronco trying to break free.
The guys buy a round of drinks. Everyone laughs reminiscing about that one famous senior prank where the class managed to get two cows into the school.
The atmosphere is friendly, light. But your eyes constantly flicker nervously to Javi. You can’t stop staring at him, can’t stop thinking about him. Now here he is a Texas dream, or maybe your nightmare.
You turn back to take another sip and in that shift, your best friend turns to direct all her attention to David who moves to sit beside her.
But now Javier smoothly slides into the barstool next to you.
“Nice to see you outside the ranch.” His voice comes out smooth and rich.
You agree. But the air turns awkward, as if neither of you know how to tackle this new situation.
Suddenly heels clicking fast arrive. Standing to the side is a girl you recognize from your sister’s class that just graduated high school.
“Hi,” she smiles, staring at Javi with obvious hearts in her eyes.
He politely but cautiously greets her back.
“I was, um, wondering if you wanted to maybe dance with me?” She’s bold. You can at least appreciate that.
“My friends all dared me to ask you since it’s, ya know, you.” She gushes and giggles.
“Uh, appreciate the thought but I’ll have to pass, sorry.” He turns her down gently.
As if she finally realizes you even existed her eyes blink to you.
“Oh hey!” She recognizes you as an older sister to one of her classmates. And then for something else.
“Yeah didn’t you like, used to be a rodeo cowgirl or something and then something happened so now you’re not doing anything anymore?”
She’s being underlyingly mean. Her misleading chipper tone, vapid smile, are all soaked in venom meant to shake you or even scare Javi away from you.
But you’re used to it by now. You’re about to comment how she shouldn’t even be here.
Javier however speaks first and fast.
“Hey,” Javier’s voice jumps shockingly sharply, almost reprimanding. Your eyes go wide at how fast he reacts. He even glares at the girl.
Besides you, your best friend immediately turns around.
“Oh hey!” She greets the young newcomer. “Weren’t you that girl caught buying weed only for the cops to figure out you were actually buying oregano?”
Her cheerful tone makes you bust out a snort because yeah, she’s right.
The girl’s face falls absolutely mortified.
“Now get the fuck out of here.” Your dear friend finishes sweet but the undercurrent of her voice looms threatening. The disgraced girl rushes away before she can even reply.
You wheeze into your hand and fondly lean against your dearest sweet friend.
“If she or any of her little punk ass friends try anything again, I’ll shove my heel so far up their asses.” She reassures.
“Don’t worry,” Ricky now jumps in. “I’m definitely telling our bouncer those little shits managed to sneak in.”
Gratitude carves out an ocean in you and you’re thankful for those who understand.
David whistles appreciatively and your friend, with a reassuring squeeze to your shoulder, returns to her discussion with him.
You feel Javier’s eyes burning on you.
“Does shit like that happen often?” His concerned and low voice floats out among the music.
You shrug.
“Back when I first came back it did, but it's dying down.”
You were supposed to be a big rodeo star. You even had an official big name brand sponsorship lined up. But, after the accident, not returning to the rodeo painted you a failure in the eyes of the town.
Especially compared to its bright shining star you sit beside.
Suddenly a warmth slides over your hand resting on the bar. Javier squeezes your hand gently, a reassuring comfort.
“I’m sorry.” He mutters deeply sad. “S’fucking awful.”
You thank him, even make a dry joke about small town bullshit which earns you a small dry chuckle.
“The shit I got after Lorraine…” he sighs and now you find his hand doesn’t leave yours. You don’t want it to.
“I get it. Shit’s brutal.” He finishes, a steeled hardness lingering in his tone.
Now your hand squeezes his.
His eyes, gleaming tiger’s eyes gemstones, flicker up to you and you smile softly.
Javi’s hand feels so lovely. It's rough, a bit callous but cozy. Just like him.
“Hey!” Your best friend suddenly cheers. “Let’s dance!”
She interrupts the moment but you can’t blame her. A hesitant scrunched up reaction tugs at your face though.
“It’s a slow dance.” You waver.
“That’s the best kind! Come on!” She urges and you spot her hand already intertwining with the guy’s.
“You go,” you urge with a beaming grin. “I wanna finish my drink.”
“Aw, come on now bandita,” now Javi slides off his seat.
Standing up straight, he extends his hand out to you.
“You gotta at least get one dance in.” He smirks.
It’s just one dance and you don’t know if you’ll ever get another chance to dance with him. That thought alone outweighs the hesitation. Placing your hand in his, Javier leads you out to the dance floor.
Javi maintains a polite distance from you. Yet the faintest scent of his cologne floats off him, a siren’s song pure of temptation. His hand keeps yours in its protective hold while he gently guides you to the beat of the music.
Being this close to him clouds your focus in a tantalizing haze begging you to get lost in. But you can’t. You can’t even stare into his eyes. So your focus flickers out to the rest of the bar.
David and your best friend dance close, already getting cozy with each other. Then your eyes move to the door.
The bar’s bouncer sternly starts throwing the three girls out and the one you recognize stares at you with disgusted hatred.
You snort.
“What?” Javi mutters, his voice silky against the low music.
You nudge your head towards the bar’s entrance and Javi follows your gaze.
“Oh hey.” He comments, noticing the scene.
“Good riddance. Poor girl must be pissed seeing you dance with someone me though.” You mutter a bit gleeful at the thought.
“Wait, what?” Javi sounds insulted.
“Uh yeah,” you reply, confused. “I mean, it’s kinda funny. You’re Mr. hometown hero here with the town’s nobody.”
“No.” Javier snaps fast. “Anyone who says or believes that’s a pinché cabrón.”
They’re a fucking asshole and the way he speaks with a conviction refuses to allow any doubt to refute him.
“And besides…I’m not a hero.” That’s when Javi’s voice drops, transforming into a whisper tangled among the slow country ballad playing.
“I’m not that golden bullshit guy everyone thinks I am.” His voice contains a stinging rawness you recognize.
Now you’re the one snapping back at him.
“Yeah you are. You’re good, Javi.” You begin firm.
“You’re noble and kind. Brave.” The words flow from your heart and you don’t even stop them. “You’ve worked hard to help people. I’m sure there’s shit you regret and you might not think you’re good because of it, but you are.”
He stays silent. Only the tune of the slow jam settles between you and him. You’re worried you’ve maybe said something to upset him.
Then Javier exhales your name and it has never sounded so tender.
Your throat tightens and when you finally look at him, you’re greeted by a galaxy.
The lights of the bar dance in his dark road eyes that stare directly at you as if the rest of the bar has melted away. Javi’s hand gingerly against your back now slides down gently. In that same motion, he slowly begins drawing you to him.
You don’t resist and catch his eyes flickering to your lips.
A sudden clamoring collision erupts and startled, you clutch onto Javi.
The cause of the commotion is a man who tripped into some chairs. He effortlessly laughs it off. The group he’s with helps him up and you’re thankful it’s not a bar fight.
You sigh relaxed.
That’s when you notice Javier shifted to draw you closer to him. In an almost protective hold, he has you now close against his broad chest. His cologne smells divine, makes your mouth water.
Like a bolt of electricity striking you, you’re galvanized and scramble immediately out of his hold.
“Wait, bandita, what’s wrong? You okay?” He’s so concerned and you dare not look at him.
“Just need some air.” You reply moving away from Javi towards the door leading to the small patio outside.
Your best friend swiftly rushes to you.
“Hey, you okay?!”
You rapidly reassure her that you’re fine and just need air. You even joke about not being able to handle your drinks anymore.
“That fucker didn’t try anything, right?” She asks low and deadly.
You shake your head and squeeze her hand. It’s enough for her to let you leave. Your body operates on autopilot until you stumble into the night air.
It feels like you’re resurfacing. You move to lean against the railing and simply gather yourself.
You feel possessed again needing to kiss him.
And it’s not just that. You want all of him all the time now and it’s infesting you. You’re barely keeping your head above water or maybe you’re this far gone under the waves.
For a moment you think it might be drizzling again. Until you blink and realize the water against your eyes are tears threatening to spill.
You’re so afraid of how badly you want Javier, and how badly it might shatter right before your eyes.
Someone says your name cautiously.
Embarrassed, you turn towards the door.
Javi stands a few steps away from you. His handsome face crumbles instantly seeing you. Quickly he rushes to your side, as if on instinct wanting to help, until he stops.
“Bandita, are you okay!? Fuck… did I do this?” He stammers out worried.
“Did I overstep?” His voice is wrecked. He’s so apologetic already.
You shake your head trying to pathetically dab away the tears. Unable to look at Javier, your attention stays on the dark stretch of parking lot.
“I promise it’s not you. It’s me.” Maybe it will always just be you.
“Querida…”
Darling…he’s never called you that.
“Whatever it is, please let me help.” His voice pleads unbearably tender and you want to cry even more.
He really is so good, too good.
“I just…I just can’t take it...” you begin with a watery cough.
You finally look at him. The furrowed brows, his worried soaked eyes, concern paints him so young. You’re reminded of the young man you saw walking out of a bank all those years ago and how a piece of him stands before you now.
“I like you so much Javi.” Through the heartache, you finally admit it out loud. “Maybe even more than I wanna admit and I don't know if I can’t keep fighting it.”
His face scrunches up and his eyes rapidly scan over you.
“Fight it?” He mutters out. “Why fight it?”
Now you stare at him a bit confused. You have nothing to lose now. So you hold your heart out to him. You reveal it all…the fears and worries sprouting in your heart like uncomfortably cacti about how he deserves someone just as refined and established as him, that he'll eventually get bored of someone like you.
All your words come out hollow, especially thinking about how he can have anyone he wants.
Javier, suddenly in the middle of your ramble, interrupts, upset, snapping your name fiercely that any other words you want to say vanish.
“You’re the only one in this town who actually understands, who maybe even really fucking sees me.” He growls.
Your heart even jumps hearing how determined and raised his voice got.
“You…” Javi now chokes out and suddenly runs a hand over his face. Then his hands go to his hips. His eyes fall to the floor as if he’s taking a moment to gather himself.
“Fuck… you don’t even know what you do to me, how much you fucking mean to me.” Javier breathes and the words get caught in your ribs.
“Whenever you’re not around I can’t stand it. I just wanna be with you….all the damn time.” He coughs out as if he can’t even believe his words.
Those earth pool eyes of his flicker to you.
Under the watch of the clouded Texas deep night sky, it’s just you and him.
You don't know who moves first. Instead it feels like two magnets finally flinging together so fast the collision knocks you awake.
Because in a blink Javi’s hand holds face while his other yanks at your hips. Then he kisses you.
It’s all encompassing.
Immediately your hands scramble to claw at him, begging to get him as close as possible.
His mustache scrapes beautifully against your lips. You taste the beer lingering on his tongue and he’s divine. The wall of the bar suddenly hits your back.
Now you’re flush against him, fully pinned under all of Javier, and you moan. His tongue with hungered finesse licks into your mouth. One hand stays firmly holding your face while his other runs across your body trying to map you out.
His hips rut against yours and you go dizzy with aching raw need.
“Mi pretty bebita, so good to me.” He whispers out thick and heavy. You whine wanting him more, wanting him inside you every way possible. Everything feels molten.
Javi playfully bites your bottom lip and your knees almost buckle. Your mind simply chants for him.
A clash of teeth, a burning heat devours you while you chase every taste of Javier that he gives. It’s an unleashing of something raw and aching, as if finally you can breathe against him while something inside you whispers yes, yes you and I are here and you don’t want to ever leave.
A sudden droplet plops onto your head. You ignore it especially when your tongue swipes against Javi’s and he groans out the most heavenly noise.
A few more large obvious water drops come.
You and Javi freeze, halting mid make out like a paused VHS tape.
Then the rain arrives.
“Shit!” Javi coughs out immediately pulling away. He quickly shrugs off his blazer and drapes it over you, a makeshift umbrella.
Filled by the most buoyant bliss, you laugh.
Javier snorts, shaking his head but he must sense it too, all of it amongst the rain.
And it’s beautiful.
-
“I’m surprised you don’t wear this as much.” Javier comments as he picks up your Stetson cowboy hat.
He’s shirtless, only wearing his jeans. You’re treated to his bare broad shoulders and wonderfully sweet ass in his jeans. It’s an utterly devastating combo.
Sitting on your bed waiting to settle in for the night with him, you shrug.
You didn’t expect him to be so curious and constantly snooping around anytime he’s in your bedroom. Then again, you still can’t believe he’s even in your bedroom.
Sneaking away that the first weekend after the bar didn’t last long though.
Your grandma caught him a few Sunday mornings later trying to sneak out and she ran to you screaming excitedly when she could start planning the wedding. You still haven’t recovered from that.
Even with the blessings from both sides, including Chucho and your gramps, you still wanted to just enjoy being with Javi in these intimate carved out spaces.
His presence already is crystallizing here. His wallet and packs of nicotine gum clutter the night stand. His extra pair of sunglasses sit beside yours on the dresser. His faded worn Texas A&M University t-shirt is tossed by the bed and his boots are by the door. You treasure it all.
Javi, now standing in front of you, places the cowboy hat on top of your head.
The familiar presence of wearing it is like greeting an old friend. You bashfully grin at your handsome rancher. Javier’s eyes gloss over you, taking in the sight. His hand moves to tenderly hold your face.
“You look good, like a true damn cowgirl.” He mutters and your heart flutters against its cage.
“Know you can ride like one now too,” his voice dips with a magnetic undertone as his words hold the heavily sexual double meaning.
You playfully smack his shoulder and he smirks.
“I’m still surprised you don’t call me cowgirl instead of bandita.” You note gently.
“Do you mind that I call you that?” One of his eyebrows lifts up curiously.
No, you didn’t mind at all. You were just curious and you even tell him that.
Javi snorts and his thumb now strokes your cheek.
“The way Pop used to talk about you and how you’d race made you sound like some wild bandit trying to outrun outlaws or something.”
You snort now and your fondness for Chucho Peña triples.
“And then,” Javier continues. “When I met you, I knew I was fucked.”
Now your face scrunches up confused and you ask why. A small charming grin tugs his lips.
“Cause the minute I saw you glaring at me in the barn you stole every fucking inch of me.”
Javi’s thumb now moves to run over your lip and desire bubbles in you. You kiss his thumb, delicate and reverent.
“My pretty little bandit.” His voice is low, a fond rumble in his chest that you want to drown in as much as you can.
You think of all the awards you’ve won, the tournaments you’ve faced. Yet they all seem to fall so short to those words, to this man you so endlessly adore.
In your cowboy hat, you yank Javi close and kiss him. Quickly you and him both tumble into your bed sheets, melting against each other in pure bliss.
In the afterglow, you snatch up the cowboy hat again and now place it on Javi’s head. Your gruff rancher's face twists into a grumpy frown and you grin giddy.
“You look good, a classic Texas man.” You compliment him, almost mirroring the words he told you.
His face scrunches up more.
“Always thought I looked stupid wearing these.” He huffs taking off the Stetson.
“Everybody looks good in a cowboy hat.” You reply truthfully and place the hat back on him.
“Especially you.” You add letting your hand slide across his bare chest. The sight of him in the cowboy hat, your cowboy hat, flickers to life the simmering heat from earlier. He’s already so beautiful and now a cowboy hat on, shirtless, with the dimming post sex glow radiating from him, he’s personified sin.
“Cowboy hat doing it for ya, huh?” Javi’s little cocky smirk has you glaring playfully at him.
“Shut up.” You huff but then swiftly kiss him. Soon enough you become one again with the man taking root in your heart.
Early the next morning, when he thinks you’re asleep, Javier’s fingertips trace over your face with butterfly wing delicateness.
“So fuckin’ crazy about you, baby.” He whispers to your unknowing sleeping form. You feel your heart blossom, a morning bloom wanting to keep him tangled in your soul for as long as he’ll stay.
You think again of two lonely birds on the wire, maybe not so lonely anymore.
With a soft kiss goodbye against your forehead Javi heads out and you soak molten in his words.
You end up not seeing him for a few days. Over the phone he explains, annoyed, of having to run around trying to find a specific fence wire and how it’s kept him away.
Even with how much you miss him, it does allow you space.
Earlier this month, you decided on a new training schedule. Each week would alternate between practice at the Peña’s ranch and yours.
Currently practice is at your family’s ranch.
“Next time you talk to that boyfriend of yours, tell him to get tacos from that place he got us lunch from last time.” Your sister yells as she finishes up a few drills around the ring.
You roll your eyes. “He isn’t a food delivery service.”
She simply shrugs.
The day is winding down. Early evening approaches and the Texas sun starts to bathe everything in a golden glaze straight out of a George Strait song.
“You know…I’m happy for you.” As you and her start putting everything away for the day, your sister casually drops that line.
“About what?” You smirk.
“You and Javi.” She clarifies. Her face is messy with sweat but she beams bright. “You deserve someone like him.”
Your sister, always so kind, maybe too kind for a world this harsh sometimes.
“What? Someone who always manages to steal the last biscuit or flirts with grandma more and more everyday?” You tease and your little sister snickers.
“Well yeah. But what I mean is…you deserve someone who sees how great you are.”
Her words crash into you with a tidal wave of emotions. Her attention rests with her horse, getting in a few final brushes before she turns in for the day.
“I know you… think you’re some sort of failure or that you’re not good. But you are. You’re actually the fucking best.” She says so simply. “And I’m happy Javi sees it too.”
Tears clog your eyes and dry out your throat.
“You sound like a bad hallmark card.” You laugh watery but the gratitude flows out.
Your sister glares then throws the grooming brush at you. You laugh harder when she misses and once she’s out of the stable you playfully shove her.
“You heading back?” She notices your slow pace that hangs back.
You reassure her you’ll be home in a minute and just need a few minutes to yourself. With an understanding nod she walks back to the house.
Now alone you head to the very last stable and head to your ace. You miss your old companion and seeing this sweet creature nudge his muzzle against your hand conjures a sad nostalgic tug in your heart.
Grabbing the saddle, and untangling the reign, you head out to the ring.
You’ve been talking about your old rodeo days with Javi a lot recently. You ask him about Columbia as well. In the sacred soft space of pillow talk. you and him gently unravel more memories, more secrets to each other. It’s made you nostalgic, even a bit wistful.
Plus, you haven’t done this in a while. You frequently rode at a leisurely place along the trails by the river from time to time. But getting into the ring is still so sacred.
With your horse all set, you hoist yourself up and onto the saddle.
Just a few laps is all you do. You focus on the sound of the dirt under the hooves, the light breeze on your face, the feel of riding again.
Then, after gaining more confidence, you speed up.
It’s not even close to the speeds you used to hit, but it’s quick. You even make a lap around the ring going this speed.
One rotation, one good lap and you’re soaring.
It’s nothing. It’s not even an attempt to get back into the rhythm of racing. But it’s a ride and home in its own way.
You slow down, let the horse trot out of his groove to calm down. The entire time, your chest feels so light.
Your eyes glance out and then your heart drops.
Javi, with his flat out jaw dropped, stares at you as if you’ve spouted wings. You didn’t even hear him approach.
He breathes out your name.
Scrambling, a bit embarrassed, you quickly dismount, and after guiding the horse to the side you rush towards him.
You’re about to apologize for not noticing him when Javier ends up speaking first.
“You’re incredible.” He exhales in awe and it knocks the wind from you.
He must see whatever emotion colors your face because he repeats himself again firmer.
“You’re amazing, bandita.”
You weakly laugh thanking him.
“Does that mean-”
“Nah,” you gently cut him off and explain how you just enjoy a ride like that from time to time.
“It’s like just taking a casual drive type thing.” You shrug.
Suddenly Javi’s hand moves to rest on your arm leaning against the fence. He rubs so soft and comfortingly.
“Thank you,” he says gently. “For letting me know you.”
You want him to know every inch of you. The same way you want to know Javier in every way that you can. You want to carve out a home in your heart for him.
The hand that was on your arm moves to your cheek tilting your face towards his. He wears his classic aviator sunglasses you’ve grown fond of stealing from him.
He’s so gorgeous. It’s like the Texas sun was made to bask Javi in its glow. He’s a modern Helios, beautifully crafted with his deep earthy eyes and golden face.
“Proud of you, mi bandita.” He mutters with words soaked in adoration.
You swallow hard and let the truth sink into you.
“Thank you Javi… I’m proud of you too.” You earnestly tell him.
He snorts bashfully and you think you might be doomed to think about this man forever now, but it’s alright.
There’s something foreign in your chest growing so bright you feel as if you’ve swallowed a sun and maybe you have. Because Javier is bright, so unexpectedly warm.
A man crafted right out of the Texas golden magic hour.
And as Javi leans forward to kiss you so tenderly, you step forward into the sun, into his kaleidoscopic glow and it’s beautiful.
#hi hello howdy I’m so sorry this got so long but know Javi and I are baking you cowboy cookies as we speak#if you read thank you so much and know it really means the world to me#let’s rodeo fic series#rancher!javier Peña#Javier Peña x reader#javier pena x reader#javier peña x f!reader#javier pena fanfiction#narcos fanfiction#Javi P 🤎
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✯Sturniolos as Half-bloods✯
Goddess version
God version
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Chris would be the son of Aphrodite
Aphrodite is the goddess, of love, beauty, and desire. I think it makes perfect sense for him to be her son. I could see him always wearing some shade of pink (preferably a baby pink), pearl earrings, and just being the most wholesome person ever. He already is wholesome (besides the times when he is being an absolute menace) but it would definitely be elevated. With his mother being the goddess of love and beauty, he would do his best to ensure everyone feels loved and beautiful. Being stationed in camp half-blood, he would give all the girls flowers, brightening up their day and complimenting them on their beauty. When it comes to males, he would hype them up and play cupid, encouraging them to talk to the girls/males they have a crush on.
His cabin is number ten, and I would imagine it to be right by the water, the sun always shining in. His room in the cabin would be white with pink and creme accents. Pink silk bedding, a white desk, and a gold-encrusted mirror. It's no secret that Aphrodite is a bit vain, so he would put a lot of effort into his looks. His hair would sit perfectly, being brushed and combed with a rose-quartz hair tool. His skin would be clear and almost reflective. His lips would never be chapped, tinted softly with a pink lip balm. He would often show off his body, going for swims with the son of Poseiden (Nate possibly) his shirt being off, his abs prominent. A smirk would adorn his face knowing both males and females were fawning over him.
Going on to the desire and sexuality aspect. He knows he's handsome asf and he would use it to his advantage. He would flirt with multiple girls, even managing to get a few in his bed, but it would stop when he meets who he believes is the love of his life. The daughter of Hades.
Aphrodite's animal representation is usually doves and swans. In Chris's case, I think his would be a baby doe.
In the Percy Jackson series, Aphrodite's children didn't have many powers but the one that stands out would be charm speaking, almost like a siren song. Chris would definitely possess this power, being a smooth talker to get who and what he wants. As for a weapon, I could see him having a rose quartz shield paired with a sword, the handle of the sword being gold and white. The shield would be disguised as a ring, and the sword would be in the form of a pearl necklace.
his songs:
" He want lipstick, lipgloss, hickeys too" kiss me more- Doja cat
"Drop of a hat she's as willing as ,playful as a pussy cat" killer queen- queen (i like the 5sos version)
"i was made for lovin you baby and you were made for loving me" I was made for loving you-kiss
can't lie, all I was thinking about while writing Chris's part was @gamermattsgf fic silk ribbons 😭
Matt would be the son of Demeter
Demeter is the goddess of agriculture/harvest. Considering Matt has been the designated driver, does the laundry, and is labeled the navigator, I feel like this suits him. Agriculture is very important and tbh, without it, nothing in the world would work. I could see him always wearing jeans or overalls (barking at the thought of him wearing overalls omfg), he would wear a wife beater or a simple black t-shirt (preferably cropped teehee). He always would have his horse chain on, never taking it off, even when he's getting his hands dirty. Matt's quiet so I feel like that would carry on into the halfblood universe. He would stay near his cabin unless he was training or cooking in the camp kitchen. He would talk to a few people but would mostly keep to himself.
His cabin is number four, I would imagine it to be located near the back of the camp, close to mountains, and having a lot of land to farm. I would think it would be more of a rustic vibe, very serene. A lot of browns, cremes, with hints of green. A statue of his mother would be perched right in the middle of his backyard. He would sit next to it, offering her grains and cups of water as the sound of nature buzzed around them. Due to his mother being the goddess of harvest, he was in control of the food for the camp. He's basically a farmer. With being a farmer, there are multiple animals, his favorite being the horse. He would have an array of horses, his favorite being a pearl white horse he named Lucky. He would always take hikes along the trails, and teach other half-bloods how to care for the horses and how to ride them as well.
I could see him having a crush on Poesiden's daughter. It would be a beautiful relationship, after all, you cant grow plants or food without water.
In the Percy Jackson series, Demeter's children did possess powers. The ones I feel Matt would possess would be enhanced growth, (manipulate plant growth which would come in handy during battle.. He would also possess the power to manipulate seasons. It wouldn't be anything crazy, but he could make the temperature rise or fall drastically. His weapon of choice would definitely be a lasso, made with a golden thread. He would definitely ride on a horse, Lucky being the horse in question. The lasso would be disguised as the chain to his horse necklace, and the horse pendant itself would be Lucky.
Demeter's animal representation is usually a snake, pig, turtle doves, and a screech owl. The horse was also mentioned due to Poseiden creating the horse as a form of affection for Demeter. For Matt, I know for a fact his animal would be a horse (like I said multiple times) and a dog. Since I do think his love choice would be the daughter of Poseidon, he would gift her a horse.
His songs:
"I climbed a mountain and I turned around, and saw my reflection in the snow-covered hills" Landslide-fleetwood mac
"The dog days are over, the dog days are over. Can you hear the horses? Cause here they come." dog days are over- florence + the machine
"I've been searching for a trail to follow again, take me back to the night we met." the night we met- lord heron.
Nick would be the son of Athena
Athena is the goddess of war, wisdom, and craft. It's no secret Nick loves the idea of wielding a sword in a horse-drawn chariot, so this is perfect for him! He would always wear reds, golds, and black. I can deff see him wearing black docs for training, as well as jeans and some type of long sleeve. His attitude is very fierce, and he has a slick mouth. With his slick mouth comes wisdom, he's just very harsh with it. He is definitely the best fighter in the camp, being labeled as the winner and leader. I wouldn't say he was always looking for a fight but, he isn't afraid to get his hands dirty.
With his cabin being number six, I would think it's located near the training center of the camp. Lots of dirt and mud trails, and weapons being thrown across the front of the cabin. His room would have wooden flooring, with a four-post bed. The bedding would be plain white sheets with red satin pillowcases and a big red blanket. A bust of his mother would sit on his nightstand, a blade perched next to it. With fighting being in his blood, I could see multiple shields and swords in the bedroom as well, maybe some mounted on the walls.
As far as relationships go, he would want someone who is equally as skilled in fighting and can handle his mouth. With that being said, he would deff have his eyes on the son of Apollo. His archery skills and knowledge would captivate Nick.
In the Percy Jackson series, Athena's kids didn't have powers, they just had really good intelligence and fighting skills, as well as craftsmanship. Nick would have very good craftsmanship, constantly fixing things for people in camp half-blood, building buildings, etc. I also think he would be the one to come up with battle strategies during dire situations. His choice of weapon would switch between a sword and a staff. The sword and staff would be much like the son of Poseidon's, disguised as a pen. His staff would be disguised as a ring as well, throwing it up into the air and catching it in a dramatic yet impressive fashion. A horse-drawn chariot wouldn't be possible, so he does take one of Matt's horses instead.
Athena's animal representation is an owl. Despite Nick's fear of birds in real life, I do think he would take after his mother with the owl. The owl would alert him when there is danger near , and guide him in battle.
His songs:
"If it makes me a king, a star in your eyes" all for us- labyrinth
"And if you complain once more, you'll meet an army of me" army of me- Bjork
"And I had a thought about wreaking havoc on an opposition, kinda shocking, they want static with precision." enemy- imagine dragons
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im in love with this!!!! im deff going to do a version for the gods!!!
TAGLIST🍑
@bernardsgf @bernardsleftbootycheek @blahbel668 @mattfrfr @gdsvhtwa @sturniolo-aali @lily-loves-struniolos @kynda-avery @causeidontlikeagoldrush
@st7rnioioss @carolinalikesthings @mattslolita @suyqa @xxloveralways14 @pepsiimaxx @judespoision
@ivonchetooo1239 @imaslut4kehlani @that-general-simp @m4stermindd @itzdarling @gigisworldsstuff @adoreindie @braindead4l @pettydollie @chrissgirlsstuff @alexis007 @ratatioulle @yamamasjumpercables @luv4kozume @sturnioloslurps @kqyslyho3 @mattslolita
#sturniolo triplets#chris sturniolo#chris sturniolo smut#nick sturniolo#matt sturniolo#sturniolo fanfic#christopher sturniolo#sturniolo smut#smut#matthew sturniolo#matthew sturniolo smut#christopher sturniolo smut#sturniolo x reader#chris sturniolo x you#chris sturniolo x reader#chris girl#matt sturniolo x you#matt sturniolo smut#matt sturniolo x reader#matt girl#greek mythology#percy jackson#camp halfblood
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welcome to the disco! choose your partner for a whirl around the dance floor to the grooviest tracks today. get funky as you boogie the night away.
This collab will contain a combination of SFW and NSFW works. See each individual fic for tags and warnings.
Join the 70s;teen taglist!
dancing queen ~*~ @duhnova
[NSFW] smut, fluff, tiny bit of angst ~*~ disco club owner!choi seungcheol x performer!reader (fem)
the stage is where you felt the most comfortable, letting go and singing for everyone that would sit and listen. but it was hard making a living in america, every corner you turned there was trouble waiting for you because you were too comfortable with your sexuality for the public’s liking. so when you stepped off the ship that took you to your new life in paris, you were surprised to collide with a disco club owner who was in a similar boat as you.
every summertime ~*~ @lovelyhan
[NSFW] smut ~*~ jeonghan x reader
you're not really interested in the run-down record shop back in your hometown. but people aren't oblivious to the way you keep trying to get into the owner's pants—not even the owner himself.
curse the stars ~*~ @shuadotcom
[NSFW] smut, fluff, strangers to lovers au, 70s au~*~ salesman!joshua x starlet afab!reader
meeting someone at the disco to take home for the night is customary for you, especially in your line of work. but meeting this man on this night at this disco feels more like fate as joshua becomes much more than just your routine one night stand.
do re mi ~*~ @onlymingyus
[NSFW] fluff, smut~*~ junhui x wife!reader
synopsis: you were from different worlds. he was responsible, frugal, and sensible. you were a child of the times, a free spirit. the house had problems and it was small, but at the end of the day it was home…you were home.
with the band ~*~ @the-boy-meets-evil
[NSFW] band!au, smut, angst ~*~ drummer!soonyoung x journalist!reader (afab)
you’re fresh out of college with big dreams about changing the world with your words on a page. the last thing you expect is to end up covering a tour and you certainly don’t expect to fight falling for the drummer. what happens on tour, stays on tour, right?
rogue ~*~ @smileysuh
[NSFW] strangers to lovers, slow burn, smut ~*~ wonwoo x afab reader
“lay back,” he instructs next. “I’m going to take your panties off.” your heart races in your chest as you realize what he’s about to do, and you fall onto your elbows on the hood of his car, breathing heavily as wonwoo leans down and begins to press kisses up your bare legs. his fingers hook in your panties, and he drags them down, exposing your hot core to the cool evening air. You can’t help the gasp that leaves you, and as wonwoo positions your thighs over his broad shoulders, you think you might actually faint from the tension.
all about that bass ~*~ @angelwoozi
[NSFW] fluff, smut, band!au, neighbour au ~*~ bassist!jihoon x reader (afab)
the first time you meet your neighbour, it's when he is rolling up to his driveway for the first time, the cheapest skates with him. after that, you always try to get a peek of him when you hear his door slam, because oh my my he is so cute. little did you know that your cute neighbour can also work a crowd like he owns it, all with his bass and his presence.
manhattan sunrise ~*~ @seokgyuu
[NSFW] detective!au, criminal minds! au, crime, exes to lovers, angst, smut ~*~ detective!seokmin x fbiagent!reader
lee seokmin is a very successful and admired detective in the NYPD. pp until now he has had no trouble catching the bad guys. but when an especially horrific serial killer starts roaming the streets of new york city and he faces perplexity for the first time in his career - his superiors send a unit from the FBI trained to profile serial killers, which contains none other than you - seokmin’s high school sweetheart.
tight laced ~*~ @drunk-on-dk
[NSFW] fluff, smut, roller rink au ~*~ shop clerk!mingyu x afab!reader
it was kim mingyu who sold you your first pair of roller skates. regardless of the fact you were born with two left feet, a tired student, and were running low on funds, the charming clerk somehow convinced you it would be worth every penny. maybe it would be worth it to join your friends for midnight skates rather than being cooped up studying on weekends. however, the main selling point? skating lessons were included
darling i’m a nightmare dressed like a daydream • @dkakapizzaboy
[NSFW] crime, mystery, suggestive ~*~ conman! minghao x fem! reader
minghao has had a pretty easy life…partly due to his sharp looks, but mostly due to his even sharper mind. his day job, you ask? oh, just your average little joe conning wealthy women out of thousands of dollars …until he meets you.
aretha franklin and otis redding ~*~ @wonwussy
[SFW] angst, fluff ~*~ seungkwan
your brother had been labeled mia soon after he left for the war. three years later, the war has ended, and you know he's not coming home. maybe this stranger can help you find a little peace.
remember when ~*~ @multi-kpop-fanfics
[NSFW] fluff, comedy, angst, suggestive, childhood friends to lovers to exes to friends ~*~ vernon x fem!reader
growing up in the suburbs of athens during the seventies was turbulent to say the least - but is it turbulent enough to break the backyard trio friendship? only time could tell.
mood rings, drive thru theaters, and the latest issue of tiger beat ~*~ @bitchlessdino
[NSFW] angst, smut, fluff ~*~ lee chan x college student!reader (afab)
when you fall in love, it can feel like you’ll be with that person forever, that there isn’t another being in the world you rather be with. This case is just as heavy in your youth, tutoring a boy you’ve only ever walked circles around, while you wear a mood ring from his parents souvenir shop so you could feel closer to him. When it happens, you don’t expect things to crash harder than the way they do.
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