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zepskies · 2 months

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Take Me Home - Part 3

Pairing: Beau Arlen x F. Reader

Summary: You are another lost soul at Sunny Day Excursions. You’re aiming to settle in Helena, Montana, where Beau Arlen is the new sheriff in town. But you’ve both got a past you’re running from.

AN: I’m being continuously blown away by your lovely responses on this story. Thank you so much! I truly appreciate all the love for our cowboy sheriff and where TMH is going.

Word Count: 6.6K

Tags/Warnings: Angst, hurt/comfort, a heart-to-heart, flirtations, and invitations taken…

❤️ Series Masterlist

Part 3: Welcome Home

In the next twenty-four hours after Mary was found, the police’s investigation led them to a man named Walter. He’d been living in the woods, and was suspected of stalking the camp for days.

He was arrested as a prime suspect in Mary’s murder at Sunny Day Excursions, along with Paige’s; even though they’d yet to find her body, the police did confirm that she'd never made it home to New York.

They also found Luke later that night. His body was pierced to a tree by an archer’s arrow.

The campers were sent home shortly after Walter was arrested.

And three days later, your aunt Denise gingerly took a seat on the edge of the couch you’d been lying in all day (and all week so far). She swept her fingers over your greasy hair in both comfort and affection.

Denise Brisbane was your mom’s sister. She was a private investigator here in Helena. And as you found out, she actually worked with Cassie Dewell, the woman you’d met at the camp, who was still in search of a missing backpacker.

“You’ve barely moved in days, honey,” Denise said.

Her face was sympathetic and sad, watching you. Though you felt the sting of guilt, feeling like a burden that had just been unloaded on your aunt, you didn’t want to leave your warm blankets. Your body felt heavy and useless.

“Good news though. The rest of your stuff ships in tomorrow,” she said, continuing to pet your hair. “I’ll help you move into your new apartment. How does that sound?”

You gave a weak nod. “Thanks.”

She sighed. “I’m not trying to kick you out, hun. I just think it’ll be good for you to start getting on your feet.”

You agreed, wordlessly. In your head, you knew she was right. You couldn’t sleep on her couch forever, and perhaps more importantly, you couldn’t let this beat you down forever.

“You sure you don’t want to talk about it?” Denise asked, squeezing your shoulder. “Your mom wanted to get the first flight out here, but I told her I’d take care of you until you go home for the funeral.”

You were grateful for that. As much as you loved your mother, you didn’t want to be smothered right now. Your mom’s version of comfort could only include a heavy dose of smothering. The one thing you had been able to do was call Mary’s parents.

That had been a long and painful conversation. After which, you slept like the dead for two days straight.

Denise broke you out of your wandering thoughts when she handed you a business card. It had a banyan tree emblazoned on it, along with the name of a grief counseling center.

“Cassie’s actually been going here, and she’s liked it so far,” she said.

At your furrowed look of confusion, she added, “Look, it’s okay if you don’t want to talk to me, but I think it would be good for you to talk to someone. Maybe someone who understands what you’re going through.”

You sighed and flipped the card through your fingers. You really, really didn’t want to go. You could already what your father would say if he knew you went to a grief counselor. His form of “therapy” was the growing collection of bourbon behind his desk.

But if it meant you’d stop being a lump in your aunt’s living room, then maybe you could give it a shot.

“Okay,” you nodded. Your voice was a bit coarse with disuse. Denise gave you a smile, and a warm hug that felt like home. She even offered to make your appointment for you.

You were a little annoyed though. Now you’d have to actually get up and put on a bra.

“Maybe shower first, huh?” she advised, while she helped you get up.

“Yeah, yeah,” you replied.

A hot shower, washing and styling your hair, putting real clothes on, and overall making yourself presentable actually made you feel human again. You even surprised yourself by putting on a bit of makeup.

Once you made it to the grief counseling center in your car, however, you sat in the parking lot for a minute. You had to take a moment to breathe. Because you knew you were going to be asked what happened. You were going to have to get into it all over again.

Even after you were able to leave your car and brave through the carpeted halls of the building, your hands were shaking. At the reception desk, an older woman directed you down another long hallway to the group session. It was the only one available on short notice, but she promised that if you found the session helpful, she could help you book another group session, or even a solo session.

You weren’t sure if you were ready for “solo,” but a group appealed to you. Maybe you could just sit in the back and let the others talk.

The counselor, Tom, greeted you when you walked into the right room. It was a small room with a bunch of chairs formed in a circle at the center. No room to hide, you thought with growing unease. You glanced over and saw that there were a few people already milling about, making small talk in a cluster near the circle.

“We’re gonna start here in a few minutes, but until then, you can take a seat,” said Tom. “There’s also coffee and cookies over there, if you like.”

Coffee. Coffee was warm, and it might settle your nerves and help you perk up a bit. You thanked him and went for the carafes on a small table in the back. You poured some coffee into a Styrofoam cup and poured a little sugar and creamer into it, but after you took an experimental sip, you immediately regretted it.

Tastes like damn soil water! You made a grossed out sound and spat it back into your cup.

“Yeah, wouldn’t recommend the joe,” drawled a familiar voice.

You turned sharply to find Sheriff Beau Arlen. He gave you a sympathetic look as he reached for a cup of water. Seeing him took you by such surprise, you gasped with a slight flinch, accidentally spilling some scalding coffee on yourself in the process.

You held the cup away from you fast, but a few drops still flecked on your jeans, and even his boots.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” you gasped again. Beau just smiled good-naturedly and grabbed a few napkins off the table.

“It’s all right,” he said. “I’m the one who snuck up on you. Accidentally, I might add.”

He handed you the napkins so you could soak up the coffee from your hand and arm. Meanwhile, he took your half-empty coffee cup and tossed it in the garbage. Your damp wad of napkins joined the cup.

And when you finally looked up at him again, you both found yourselves smiling, despite where you were. It was the first time you’d been able to smile in days.

“Sheriff Arlen,” you greeted. “I did not expect to see you here…”

His smile faltered at that, but his hand reached back to sort through his short hair at the back of his head.

“Ah, call me Beau,” he said. “I have a feeling we’re about to get to know each other better.”

You agreed to that, just as you agreed to join him for a seat within the circle of chairs. He leaned back in his chair and swept a hand through his hair again, perhaps in a nervous gesture. You glanced over at him, saw the way he smoothed a hand down his jeans when his knee started bouncing…

Could he be as anxious as you? You had to wonder why he was here, for grief counseling of all things. The thought sobered you as more people filtered in and took their seats. Tom eventually got things started from his spot across from you in the circle.

“Okay, we’ve got a couple of first timers to this group session, so tell you what,” he said. “Let’s go around, introduce ourselves, and share something interesting. Whether it’s what you do for a living, a new hobby you picked up, or keeping it even more simple, something fun you did this week.”

You looked down at the folded hands in your lap. If binge watching entire seasons of Succession and sleeping until noon every day counted as something fun, then you were all set.

The introductions started to his left, so it took a while before it got around to you. There was that little flutter of nerves in your stomach, like you were a kid again, and it was the first day of school (but worse).

Luckily, Beau was before you. You were curious about what he would share as he let out a subtle clearing of his throat.

“Hi there, I’m Beau Arlen. Some of you know me as the new sheriff over at Helena PD.” He greeted everyone with a short wave, though he tossed you a smiling glance. “You might also be able to tell that I’m from Texas. Born and bred in Houston. I moved up here to stay close to my daughter, who’s living here with her mother…my ex-wife.”

He tacked on that last bit after a slight pause. But he recovered quicker than you could process and gestured to you next. You forced yourself to perk up, putting your “teacher’s hat” on as you tried to meet everyone’s eyes. First, you gave them your name.

“I’m also from out of town, from Chicago,” you said, glancing at Beau. His expression was encouraging. It gave you the small boost you didn’t know you needed. “I’m a college professor, formerly of the University of Chicago…but I start at Caroll College in the fall.”

Beau’s brows rose as his lips twitched upwards. You tried not to blush as you passed on the introductions to the next person.

The session itself was light overall. Tom talked about the stress that often came with the unknown—with moving past a challenging time, or tackling a new project, or even moving to a new and unfamiliar city. He didn’t force everyone to chime in about themselves, but the ones who were ready to share took the floor one by one. And by the end, you thought that you’d gleaned some useful tidbits just by listening.

Hell, maybe you’d even come back here.

When the session was over though, you were kind of relieved. You grabbed your purse and got up to leave.

“Well, that was relatively painless,” Beau said, also getting up from his seat.

“Yeah, wasn’t so bad,” you replied. Your name fell from his lips in the form of a question, earning your expectant gaze.

“Listen, uh, can I buy you a real cup of coffee?” he offered. “We might not have met under the best of circumstances, but I just heard recently that you’re Denise’s niece. Well, I’m friends with the gals over at Dewell & Hoyt, your aunt included, so I just thought it’d be good to get to know each other, being that we’re both kinda new in town, and—”

You set a light hand on his arm. That one touch was able to stop his rambling, along with the sight of your amused smile up at him.

“Coffee sounds great,” you said.

You decided there was no real harm in meeting him at the nearest coffee shop, just a few minutes away.

It was hard not to associate the sheriff with that terrible night at the camp, but you knew that wasn’t fair to him. He seemed like a nice guy, and by the way he talked about his daughter, maybe even a good man.

In your experience, a good man was hard to find.

“So, what do you teach exactly?” Beau asked. He’d just finished telling you about Emily starting a summer internship with Cassie and Denise at the private investigation agency. Like father like daughter, you’d remarked. Beau’s soft, but proud smile had been telling.

“English literature,” you replied to his question, sipping at your cappuccino. He was drinking a hot French vanilla latte, which kind of amused you. You had expected him to order an Americano or something.

“Oh, yeah? What sort of classes?” he said.

“The greatest hits, basically,” you explained. “Composition, English grammar, Shakespeare…Twentieth Century British Literature.”

“Oh, is that all?” he chuckled. It charmed a smile out of you.

“I don’t know why I asked. I didn’t even go to college,” Beau said. It finally succeeded in making you laugh.

“Straight to the police academy, then?” you asked.

“Like a cannonball, heels a blazin’,” he said, miming a gunshot with his hand.

“Like a rhinestone cowboy,” you teased. And you felt brave enough to hum the riff of the Glen Campbell song.

Beau shook his head with a grin. He’d seen you, all tightened up and anxious throughout the group session, even though it had been pretty lightweight. He could relate to your discomfort. He’d made a conscious effort to talk very little about himself and gave the others the room to tell their stories.

Beau liked seeing you more relaxed though. He liked your smile, the glimpses of your sense of humor shining through. He liked that he was somehow able to bring that out of you for a while.

“I still can’t believe you're Denise’s niece,” he said, once again shaking his head. “What a small world.”

“Yeah. I’ve been crashing on her couch for the past week,” you admitted. “But I have the rest of summer to settle into my new apartment, starting tomorrow. I’ve got my whole life shipping in on a truck.”

Beau nodded at that. He contemplated whether it’d be appropriate for him to offer you some help with that. The question was on the tip of his tongue, until he saw the way your mood saddened. You sat contemplating your coffee mug.

“I asked her to come,” you confessed. When your eyes met his, they shone with the beginning of unshed tears. “The camping trip was Mary’s idea, but I asked her to come with me to Helena for the week. She wouldn’t have been there if it wasn’t for me.”

Beau let out a deep breath and met you with a more somber, understanding gaze.

“It wasn’t your fault,” he said. He was reminded that they had Walter in custody. He wasn’t yet willing to break and confess to the murders at Sunny Day Excursions, but they had him.

“I promise, we’ll get justice for Mary,” Beau added. You sighed and wiped a tear from your cheek.

“Do you think you have the right man?” you asked, speaking of Walter.

“I do,” Beau replied. “He’s being stubborn, but all the evidence points to him.”

You nodded gratefully, but you had to try and breathe through your tumultuous emotions, the way your heart was cracking with pain. You didn’t want to break down in the middle of a damn coffee shop.

Again, Beau wrestled with the inclination to cover his hand over yours. He felt like he was toeing the line between his professional capacity as a sheriff, and the fact that you were his friend’s niece. He wanted to comfort you the best he could. But sometimes, words just weren’t enough.

You took a half-hearted sip of your coffee. By now, it was lukewarm, if still tasty and sweet. It was healthier than whiskey, you supposed.

“She was like…like my sister, you know?” you said. “I feel like I failed her.”

Beau shook his head, his dark brows furrowing. He didn’t know how many times he could say it wasn’t your fault, knowing you probably wouldn’t ever believe it.

That struck a familiar bell.

“Look, I uh…I understand what you’re going through,” he admitted. Your watery gaze found his again. Your head tilted in interest.

He sighed before answering your unspoken question. “I lost my partner on the job, now a couple years back.”

“I’m sorry,” you replied, and your sympathy was as genuine as his had been for you. “I’m guessing you two were close.”

Beau’s lips quirked at one corner. “He was like my brother. Matter of fact, I think it used to make my own brother jealous.”

You processed that with a sad frown, though your brows soon rose in curiosity.

“You have a brother?”

“Yep,” Beau nodded. The brief shadows in his eyes lifted at the merciful change of topic. “Good ole’ David. I still call him Davey, even though he hates it.”

A smile played on your lips. “Older or younger?”

“Younger, by a few years,” he replied. There was a more natural gleam to his smile then. “He’s a hotshot doctor back in Houston.”

He teased, but you could see there was pride behind his eyes. It reminded you of the way he got whenever he talked about Emily.

“So you know my story. What brought you to Montana?” he asked. He wanted to see if he could help you get your mind off Mary. He didn’t know that he’d just pulled the pin on a whole other grenade.

You let out a wry chuckle.

“Uh, oh,” Beau said warily.

You nodded. He did tell you his story—ex-wife with a new husband, daughter, a new job in Montana—though you still didn’t know why he was going to grief counseling. If it was because of his partner, you could understand that…but you also didn’t want to pry.

You also knew it was only fair to answer his question.

“It’s not exactly like your situation but…I was engaged,” you said at last.

Past tense, he noted.

“Good guy?” he asked.

“A firefighter,” you replied. Though you knew well the rivalry that sometimes existed between cops and firefighters. Beau’s growing bemusement told you he was thinking along the same lines.

“Ah, a smoke eater, huh?” But his smile faded. “Did something happen to him on the job?”

“No,” you said, again with that weary chuckle. It was hard for you to get this out, but you’d been wrestling with it for over six months, damn near a year. It was enough.

“Just a couple months before the wedding, I found out he’d been cheating on me with his college girlfriend…pretty much throughout our whole relationship,” you said.

Though you promised yourself that you’d never cry over this again, today had already been incredibly difficult. The tears came, and you couldn’t stop them.

Beau's brows had risen high in surprise. Then, a deeper sympathy settled in his eyes.

“Jesus. How long?” he asked.

“We were together three years, engaged for about another one,” you said. “Almost four years of my life, just…”

You mimed a puff of smoke blowing out of your hand.

“Yeah. I know the feeling,” Beau said. His tone was wry as he dragged a hand over his beard. You gave him an apologetic look.

“I’m sorry. I know my story doesn’t compare with a marriage,” you said.

“That’s not what I was gettin’ at,” he replied. “But I get it. You start to think, what the hell was it all for? …Except for my daughter.”

“Yeah. Unfortunately, I don’t have an Emily,” you said. At the same time though, you were very glad you never had kids with that man.

Beau frowned when he saw the way your face fell further, becoming distant, and lost in old memories.

“Afterwards, I…I checked out, you know? I could barely focus on my students, my family, my friends.” Your nails drummed on the countertop. You shook your head as it all filtered through your mind again. “But the last straw was that my dad tried to get me to work things out with him, and I just…I lost it. Beau, I absolutely lost my shit.”

Beau grimaced. “What made your dad think that would work?”

“He’s a retired firehouse chief,” you said, with a purse of your lips. “He’s always had a soft spot for Michael.”

“Michael, huh?” Beau quirked a brow. “That come with a last name?”

You shot him a look of amusement.

“What, are you going to run his LUDS?” you joked, but you couldn’t prevent a sniffle as a new wave of emotion threatened an upswell.

You felt pathetic. This man was the whole-ass sheriff of this town. He probably had more important things to do than listen to you complain about your imploded relationship. But you were also Denise’s niece. Maybe he just felt sorry for you.

He offered you a napkin. “Sorry it’s not a tissue.”

In his eyes though, you didn’t see pity. Just kindness.

“It’s okay. I can brave a scratchy napkin,” you said, laughing a little. “But after that, I knew one of two things was going to happen. Either I was going to break open my dad’s gun safe and shoot the bastard in the ass, or I had to get the hell out of Chicago. My mom and Aunt Denise suggested I come here for a visit, just to clear my head. That turned into scoping out jobs, and then apartments… Now I’m here.”

That fell between you for a moment as your companion processed it all. In hindsight, you probably shouldn’t have mentioned that whole bit about possibly shooting your ex, but he took it in stride.

“Well, for what it’s worth, I’m glad you are,” Beau said. “Here, that is.”

You couldn’t help but blush; at his words, the deep green of his eyes, and the sincerity of his smile.

“Likewise, Sheriff,” you said.

He smirked. “Also glad you didn’t go shootin’ people in the ass.”

You covered your face and laughed.

Beau walked you to your car like the gentleman he was, even though it was only late afternoon. You opened the driver’s side door, but you lingered there. You turned back to him, curling a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Thanks for the coffee, and for letting me ramble, and vent, and soak up a few dozen napkins,” you said. You laughed a little in embarrassment, but he waved it off.

“It wasn’t as bad as all that, but good luck movin’ into your apartment tomorrow,” he said. Then it was his turn to hesitate. “If you need some help with that, just let me know.”

You blinked, mouth parting in soft surprise.

“Oh, thank you but…I don’t want to trouble you,” you said.

“You wouldn’t be. That’s why I offered,” he replied, smiling down at you in a way that had you melting a little bit more. “I’ve got an early shift tomorrow, but after, I could probably pull in Cassie. Maybe even Jenny, if she’s up for it. She’s one of our deputies at the PD.”

Beau recognized your hesitance.

“It wouldn’t be any trouble, I promise,” he said, holding a hand over his heart. “We’ve gotta welcome you to the neighborhood, don’t we?”

You were still a little unsure, but you agreed to it with a thank you, along with a more shy, sweet smile.

Beau liked that smile too.

Later that day, Beau remembered it was his turn to host the ritual movie night Friday with Cassie and Jenny. His trailer was too small to have it inside, so they set up Cassie’s projector out in front, by the fire. According to his friends, he was going about the night with too much cheer.

“You’re entirely too smiley to have just come from an afternoon of therapy,” Jenny pointed out. She uncapped her second beer, then passed him the bucket. He waved her off; he was still nursing his first beer of the night. If he stuck to his plan, then it’d be his only beer of the night.

“Aw, it wasn’t so bad, actually,” he said. He explained that you had been there at the group session. The moment your name was mentioned, Cassie and Jenny both raised their brows.

“Really?” Cassie remarked.

“Yeah. Losing her friend really shook her up. Understandably,” Beau said. His gaze lowered when he played through his afternoon with you in his mind. Though your situations were different, both in your lost friends and lost relationships, he realized just how much he’d understood and connected with a near stranger.

That kind of thing didn’t happen to him often, if ever before.

“But, she’s actually moving into her new place tomorrow,” he added, breaking himself out of his own head. “Speakin’ of, would you two have the time to help her and Denise out? I already said I would come by after shift tomorrow.”

Cassie and Jenny shared a certain look—the kind these women donned when they were having a private conversation with just their eyes. This time, it seemed to be about him.

“What?” he asked, his hands spreading wide.

“Nothing,” Cassie said, smiling. “Sure, I can come.”

“Yeah,” Jenny agreed, “barring nothing too crazy happens on shift.”

Beau inclined his head. “Knock on wood there. Anyway, what’re we watching?”

“Crazy, Stupid Love,” Jenny grinned, holding up the DVD cover. “For Ryan Gosling, of course.”

Beau rolled his eyes.

A few months ago, he wouldn’t have expected that he’d make friends with exclusively women in this town, but he only complained about it in times like these.

Though as it turned out, he enjoyed the movie. There were as many hilarious scenes as there were poignant ones. By the end of the night though, he was beat.

Jenny helped with the cleanup, but she ended up taking off first. It left Beau to put away the fold-up chairs with Cassie.

“So, tell me,” she said, in a leading tone and with a teasing smile. “You crushing on Glamper Girl for real now?”

Beau shot her a wry look.

“She’s not a glamper anymore,” he pointed out. “And I’m not crushing like some teenager. I just want to help her out. She’s been through a lot…and she’s Denise’s family. It’s just the right thing to do.”

Cassie laughed. “That’s a lot of over-explaining you’re doing right there, but okay, Beau.”

He rolled his eyes, but he had to smile. “Okay, that’s it. I’m gonna have to insist you get off my property.”

“Off what, your tin can?” she retorted.

“Hey! She can hear you.”

Beau wiped the sweat from his brow strategically while he carried his end (the heavier end, he might add) of your couch. He and Jenny were trying to get it up the stairwell to your apartment on the second floor.

“Okay now, just pivot on this corner,” he instructed. “Pivot!”

Jenny nearly dropped her end out of sheer aggravation. Her blue eyes cut down to his.

“If you say pivot one more time, I’m gonna shoot you,” she snapped.

Beau whistled in amusement. “Threatening to shoot the sheriff. Now that’s at least a misdemeanor.”

Right as he could almost see the fumes coming out of his deputy’s ears, you hustled up the stairs to help them. You picked up the middle to make it easier.

“Okay, we can do this! I think we can just tip it on its side to get it around the corner,” you said.

To everyone’s relief, your suggestion worked. Denise held the door open while the three of you got the couch up to the second floor, then into your apartment. Once the couch was successfully in the living room, you went to the kitchen and grabbed a few bottles of water out of the fridge. You handed one each to Beau and Jenny.

“Thank you guys again so much for doing this,” you said, still catching your breath. You surveyed all the boxes and furniture you all had brought in, and you realized you were crazy to think you and Denise could’ve done all of this by yourselves.

“It’s our pleasure,” Beau nodded. He gestured to his sweating face and neck. “But do you have a towel or a rag or something? You’re about to be mopping me off the floor in a minute.”

“Yeah, of course. Hold on,” you said. You went back into the kitchen and retrieved a clean hand towel. Beau used it to dry his face, neck, and the top of his chest.

You tried not to stare at the flash of tan skin near the collar of his plain gray shirt, or the wet spots clinging to his back. The sleeves were tight around his arms and across his chest, leading you to believe that despite being in his mid-forties, he kept himself in shape.

Meanwhile, Jenny drank her water, and pretended not to notice you staring at her boss. Part of her was amused, but a good part of her felt an unfamiliar sting as well.

“Okay,” Beau clapped a hand on his jean-clad thigh after he drained his own water bottle. “What’s next?”

Your face warmed, because you knew what your aunt was about to say before she said it.

“Oh, I think it’s just your bed, right honey?” she asked you.

“All right, let’s do it. Frame, headboard, box spring, and mattress, I assume,” Beau said, rubbing his sweaty hands together. He stretched his arms in preparation.

Again, you had to admire the way his shirt pulled across his tall, broad frame. But you followed after him when he started heading out the door.

“Wait, you shouldn’t do it by yourself!” you called out, and quickly followed after him.

Denise shot Jenny and Cassie a highly amused look.

“That's what she saaaid,” Denise sing-songed. The other two women grimaced.

“Wow. That’s your niece!” Cassie exclaimed.

“And technically my boss, thanks,” Jenny added.

“What, they’re cute, aren’t they?” Denise said, gesturing at the way you and Beau left.

“This from the woman who’s been lusting after that man since the minute he got into town,” Cassie retorted.

“Well, I’m woman enough to bow out when I’ve been thwarted. By my own blood no less,” Denise replied, but her mischievous smile said it all as she breezed back into the kitchen to start unpacking the silverware for you.

She knew for a fact that you’d made dinner for later—and not just because she’d told you how much Beau liked lasagna.

Beau accepted your help, along with Cassie and Jenny’s in bringing up all the parts of your bed. He just insisted on utilizing his own power tools to put it together.

That was how you found yourself holding the headboard up straight while Beau made sure the frame was aligned. It wasn’t as easy as it looked; the wood panels had to slide into the notch in the headboard just so, before he could start drilling the bolts back in.

“Damn it,” he muttered, when one panel of the frame nearly slipped out of his hand.

“Can you actually use that power drill?” Cassie asked. “Because you’re pretty hopeless with cars.”

Beau rolled his eyes, despite his smile. “Save the belittling for later. Tryin’ to concentrate.”

After a few more minutes of sweating, mild cursing, and internal praying, you, Beau, and Cassie managed to get the bedframe put together with the headboard. Then the box spring, and finally the mattress. It marked the official end of moving in.

While Beau, Cassie, and Jenny took a much-deserved rest sitting on the couch with a round of beers, you went to the kitchen where your aunt had already preheated the oven for you. Now you just needed to pull out the two massive pans of lasagna you’d prepared the night before—as a thank you for everyone who came to help you.

Denise sidled up to you and touched your arm to get your attention.

“Good job inviting our dear Beau to lift furniture for us,” she whispered, waggling her brows. You shot her a look and shushed her.

“Do you always flirt with him like this?” you asked incredulously.

“Well, I might have to do it less blatantly if he’s gonna keep playing Mr. White Knight for you,” she teased.

“He is not. He’s just…nice,” you whispered back. “So are Cassie and Jenny.”

Denise gave you an amused look. “Mhmm.”

You rolled your eyes and focused on getting dinner ready.

Within the hour, the five of you were sat at your new modest dining table between the kitchen and the living room, eating lasagna and drinking iced tea. Jenny and Beau had beers alongside them, and conversation drifted from how you intended to set up the apartment, to Cassie’s still open missing backpacker case.

The parents were even more worried now, saying it was out of character for him not to check in with a phone call, despite the email he’d apparently sent them a few days ago. Beau had agreed to give Cassie whatever help she needed on the periphery, especially if further evidence revealed itself on the backpacker’s whereabouts.

Beau was already on his second helping of lasagna when he raised his gaze to you, right across from him at the table.

“Clearly you get your cooking skills from your aunt, because this is fantastic,” he said.

Denise twittered. You blushed a little as you smiled.

“Thank you. I’m glad you like it.”

There was a short lull, filled by the tapping of silverware on plates, before Denise spoke up.

“By the way,” she said, looking to you and Beau. “Did you two have a productive time at grief counseling? What did you talk about?”

It was a well-meaning, but perhaps intrusive question. Both you and Beau tensed up. Cassie gave Denise a warning look.

“Oh, I’m sorry. You guys don’t have to answer that,” Denise amended.

“Um, it’s okay,” you replied. “It wasn’t too bad…I think I might go again.”

Beau had a warmer smile for you. “That’s good.”

You were able to return his smile. You turned to Cassie next.

“You went there for a while, right?” you asked. Cassie nodded.

“It was helpful,” she said. “I’m glad you’re getting something out of it.”

You took that with a nod, and returned your gaze to Beau.

“Have you been going there long?” you asked him.

He tilted his head. “Actually, yesterday was my first time too.”

Your eyes widened. “Oh, really?”

Cassie was intrigued at the way this little scene was playing out. Thought she caught the look on Jenny’s face while she watched it too. Like Jenny was studying them, not sure what to make of it all.

Beau wore a self-deprecating smile.

“Yeah. Just…hadn’t gotten around to it,” he answered you.

There was a heaviness in his voice and in his eyes that you didn’t miss, but you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable in a room full of people, even if they were his friends.

“Well, I’ll go again if you do,” you offered, a bit bolder than you felt. Beau met your eyes across the table, and his lips lifted at the corners.

“All right,” he said. “You got yourself a deal, miss ma’am.”

You fought against a blush rising up your neck. You glanced down and took a sip of your iced tea.

“Look at you. Pulling out your ‘sheriff’ voice,” Cassie teased.

“Like a rhinestone cowboy…” you sang into your glass. Your smile peeked out around the corners of it.

Most of the table laughed. Jenny smiled, but opted for drinking her beer.

Meanwhile, Beau gave you a mock look of betrayal. His true amusement shone through his eyes.

“I see how this is. Gang up on the Texan time,” he remarked.

That gave Cassie an opening to ask you something, and hopefully get to know you better. Already she had an instinct about you: she liked you. And clearly Beau seemed to as well. Cassie tended to be more cautious about people, even if you were Denise’s family.

“So how are you liking the Midwest so far?” Cassie asked you.

“So far? It’s the fresh air I needed,” you replied.

“Oh, you should check out that art studio you wanted to see,” Denise chimed in.

“You’re an artist too?” Beau asked, raising a brow. You chuckled.

“No, just an amateur with a handful of brushes,” you replied.

You remembered the peace you’d gotten while painting in sight of the mountains. But when you got to Denise’s house, you’d hidden away those canvases, not wanting to be reminded of that week at Sunny Day Excursions. And of Mary.

“Oh, but have you gone horseback riding yet?” Denise asked. “I know you were gonna try on your camping trip—”

You loved your aunt. You really did, but she also had a knack for putting her foot in her mouth. The others quieted as you dimmed at the actual mention of that God-forsaken place.

“I tried,” you said. “I never actually managed to make it on the horse.”

“Aw, well if you ever want to go, there’s a stable in town. They give lessons too,” Denise said.

You nodded and forced a smile. You went back to picking at the remnants of lasagna and salad on your plate.

When everyone began to filter out of your new apartment, each with their own set of well-wishing and a container of leftovers to take home, Beau ended up being last to leave. You had followed him to the door, where you handed him his tupperware of leftovers, and he thanked you in appreciation.

“Now I just need a microwave,” he said. “My toaster oven’s been on the fritz.”

Your brows rose in amusement. “You have a toaster oven, but not a microwave?”

“Well, let’s just say my trailer doesn’t exactly have a whole lot of space for appliances,” Beau replied, chuckling.

You smiled at that. You hesitated, but you eventually touched his hand that held the tupperware.

“Thank you again for coming here, for helping me…and for yesterday,” you said.

Beau almost didn’t realize it, but his face was getting warm. As warm as your pretty smile.

“Well, you’re very welcome,” he said. “And just puttin’ it out there, I may or may not have been riding a horse before I could walk. First memory I have is my dad putting me on Old Bess when I was four. She nearly kicked me off…not that that would happen to you. I’m just saying—”

“I see.” Your giggle ended with a smirk. Beau tended to ramble. You weren’t sure if it was a nervous tick, or just a facet of his upbeat personality…but you found it endearing.

He leveled you with a grin. “Listen, what I mean to say is, if you’re serious about wanting to learn how to ride, I could teach you. It’s not that hard.”

You bit your lip, mentally beginning to weigh out the pros and cons. To be honest, you still had reservations, both on riding a horse, and on Beau being the one to teach you. Was he just being nice, your “friendly neighborhood sheriff,” or was your aunt onto something?

…You weren’t sure, but your instincts told you that at the very least, you could trust him with this. And trust had become hard for you to give any man.

“Okay, cowboy. Let’s ride,” you said. And you even surprised yourself with the flirtatious note in your voice.

Beau’s grin kicked up a notch. You then exchanged numbers so you could hash out the details of when and where to meet sometime soon. Hopefully soon.

Then you wished him a good night.

“G’night, darlin’,” he said. He lingered in the hallway for a parting grin. “And welcome home.”

Your answering smile warmed him, long after he left your door.

AN: *rubs hands together* We're really getting into it now. 😂 Finally we have the big reveal of why she left Chicago, and the start of her and Beau's bond. You'll see more of that, and of Emily, in the next chapter...

Next Time:

You gasped and gripped even tighter with your thighs. With almost everything you had.

You were still far too unsteady for comfort on this damn horse. The poor animal whinnied, tossing his head back with a huff. Unfortunately, that just made you tense up even more as you held onto his neck.

Beau tried not to laugh. You looked like a cat clinging to the edge of a bath.

“Okay, you needa relax a little,” he said. “He ain’t gonna buck you, long as you don’t give him a reason to.”

You shot him a narrowed look.

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ellethespaceunicorn · 3 months

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The Howling in Claw Creek Forest, Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven: Marked By The Wolf

Rating: Mature, 18+, Minors – DNI

Pairing: Werewolf!Walter Marshall x Reader

Word Count: ~4.8K (ya waited extra-long; ya get an extra-long chapter)

Series Summary: You live in a small town called Claw Creek, surrounded by a deep, dark forest. Since you were a kid, an urban legend of the creature in the woods has been told. If the distant howls at night and mutilated livestock are anything to go by, you fear the stories to be true.

Chapter Summary: It’s the night of the full moon. The plan? Invite Sy over to the cabin to keep an eye on him in case he shifts. WCGW?

Warnings: verbal fight, angst

A/N: Thank you for being patient with me, guys! And I see y’all reblogging the masterlist for the series. And I thank you so much for keeping this story alive! A special thank you to @peyton-warren for being my lovely beta and soundboard for this. Cuz ya girl was struggling with this chapter for many moons.

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Cover Art by me

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Over the next day or so, you get to know Jace. You’d learned his full first name, but “only ko’u makuahine calls me Jason”. Growing up in Hawaii shaped the man he is today, and he misses home a lot. But with Walter in his pack, and being Faye’s godfather, he’s made his own little family.

For a while, it seems like he may be flirting with you. But that quickly fades into something else. You’re only mildly upset when he refers to you as kaikuahine. Firstly, because you had no idea what it meant. Secondly, because when you found out it meant ‘sister’, you had to remind yourself that you have a perfectly great werewolf boyfriend of your own already.

‘Calm down, girl,’ you thought, thinking of your eager beaver.

Walter notices the way your demeanor changes and takes your hand, leading you upstairs. Your confusion only amuses Jace, who seems to know something you don’t. Once you make it into Walter’s bedroom, you are spun against the door. He attacks your neck, licking and nipping at the sensitive flesh until you tangle your fingers in his chestnut curls. Your mind reels, wondering what’s gotten into him.

And then it hits you.

He’s…jealous!

Oh, this is too good. That’s twice tonight that he’s been struck with jealousy. Earlier with Sy’s thirst trap and now with your flirtatious nature. You are beyond flattered, but you refuse to let this man get too far gone. With your hand in his hair, you tighten your fingers and pry him from your neck.

Once his face is in front of yours, you notice his wild eyes where black replaces blue. He looks ready to eat you, and as much as you would like that, you decide to try and calm the beast within.

“Walter, baby? I need you to calm down for a sec,” you beg, both hands tangling in his hair to soothe his soul, “Come on back to me, baby.”

Blinking once, then twice, his eyes finally focus on you, and the trance is gone. His giant paws rush to your face and then to the tender skin of your neck where his teeth were grazing. He winces when you grimace at the feel of his thumb on your sore flesh.

“Pup, I am so sorry. I don’t know what got into me. I was−”

“Jealous?” you supply, already knowing what this was.

“I can’t help it. I haven’t felt this way in a long time. It’s jealousy, sure. But it feels deeper than that. I felt the need to mark you as mine. You’re sort of a natural flirt, you know that?” he probes, a soft smile on his face.

“Well, I mean, I can see that. I guess I’ve never really thought about it. No one has ever brought it up,” you explain, looking back on all the times that men thought you were flirting with them but were just being nice.

“Don’t worry about it. I just wanted to make sure that Jace knew you were taken. He has an effect on women,” he expresses, “But it seems he only sees you as a sister, so I don’t have to worry about you two riding off into the sunset, now do I?”

“Wow, that was kinda bitchy. But also, incredibly hot that you thought I could be influenced by another big pretty werewolf,” you tease, leaning up on your tippy toes to place a kiss on the end of his nose before pushing back from the door so you could open it and leave.

“You think he’s pretty?” Walter shouts after you.

You laugh, swiftly jogging down the stairs to find an equally amused Jace sitting on the couch with his feet up on the coffee table, perfectly at home.

Trying to keep yourself from feeling embarrassed, you plop down next to him on the couch. While you are snuggling into his side, he chuckles and jokes that you should watch out for “the big, bad wolf”. Just as the words leave his mouth, Walter appears on the other side of you, having leapt over the couch. You’re officially squeezed in between the two large wolves, and you suddenly feel like the luckiest girl in the world.

Between the warmth radiating from both men, the way they commented on the Forged in Fire episode playing in the background, and the long day finally catching up with you, you had no choice but to fall asleep. You remember leaning your head against Jace’s beefy shoulder after he splayed both arms along the back of the couch. At some point during the night, you awake to find yourself sprawled across both of their laps. Your head is in Walter’s lap and your blanket-covered feet are shoved under Jace’s thigh.

The television screen asking if you’re still watching illuminates the faces of the snoring wolves at either side of you. Walter’s hand on your shoulder twitches as he feels you shifting. Shuffling your ankles, Jace sleepily readjusts to give you room before lowering his thigh back over your feet. All of this was done while they were asleep as if it was second nature to want to keep you safe and warm.

And you weren’t going to complain about being in a literal wolf pile. Instead, you snuggle into your blanket and let yourself drift off again.

When you awaken, the mid-morning sun is flooding through the windows. You’re still on the couch, but no longer surrounded by your wolf-shaped furnaces. Getting up from the couch, you wrap the blanket around your shoulders and go in search of coffee.

Shuffling into the kitchen, you brush past where Walter is plating some waffles. You make it to the coffee machine and pour yourself a cup, adding in your sugar and cream and stirring it until it hits that perfect shade. Taking that first sip is nirvana. As the temperature of the hot beverage slides down your throat, you are warmed from the inside out. Now, you can officially say you have woken up.

You turn around to lean against the counter and are surprised to see both wolves looking at you and smiling. “What?”

“Oh, nothing. Just we were trying to get your attention, but I see Walter was right about you loving java. You have your priorities straight, is all,” Jace winks at you before sipping his coffee.

Walter chuckles and shoves a plateful of waffles, bacon, and eggs to one of the empty seats and nods for you to eat. “Don’t worry, Pup. I think it’s cute that you need your morning fuel before intelligent social interaction.”

“Thanks, Wolfie,” you hum, leaning in to peck him on the cheek before sitting down to tuck into your plate.

“And the nicknames are elevating my sugar levels as we speak,” Jace teases, expertly catching the waffle that Walter throws his way.

“Look, Jace and I have an idea. We just need you to put the pieces in motion,” Walter begins, explaining the plan to you while you eat. You stayed mostly silent, letting him lay everything out.

Jace pops in here and there with a few tweaks when he sees you start to feel a bit overwhelmed, “If at any time you feel uncomfortable, don’t hesitate. We’re there in case anything happens.”

“I guess I have a call to make. Oh, and do you fellas think you can go grocery shopping? I need a few things if I wanna make sure I have enough to feed all of you,” you lament, factoring in that Sy used to eat you out of house and home on multiple occasions. Might as well have too much than too little. You give Wolfie and Jace your shopping list and head upstairs to shower and make a very important phone call.

Early evening rolls in and you are relishing the smell of your pot roast with vegetables simmering as it permeates the first floor of the house. Wolfie has been at your side for most of the afternoon and even now because you’ve been like a chicken with your head cut off, anxious nerves making you fuss over every little thing.

And he couldn’t blame you for being on high alert. He did ask you to invite over your ex-fiancé during a full moon, under the guise of getting together for a football game, so that he and Jace could find out if Sy is a werewolf. ‘A simple plan,’ said no one in this situation.

Olivia was invited over to help you set up and possibly help you with cooking. But alas, fair Olivia has found her Prince Charming in Jace. And just as Walter said, he does have an effect on women. You have to stop and giggle to yourself as she throws her head back in laughter and touches his arm, her signature move. Great, those two can swoon each other all night while you try and keep the peace between a wolf and a hard place.

The roast was not going to cook any faster with you standing over the crock pot, so you step away from the kitchen and join the others as they sit in the living room. Jace and Liv sit on the couch as Walter sits in one of the loungers. Just as you sit down to rest your bones in the other chair, you notice the guys exchanging a look.

You hear the rumble of Sy’s old pickup and your heart drops into your stomach. You shoot up from your seat and adjust your turtleneck dress that hugs your body like a glove before walking to the front door. You step outside as Sy is pulling into the driveway. Swallowing your apprehension, you walk across the lawn to meet him.

Smiling as he exits his truck, Sy wraps you up in a bear hug. When he lifts you off the ground, you squeak, and he just laughs before putting you back down. You get a whiff of him, and you feel an instant urge to bury your nose in his neck, or his perfectly trimmed beard. Fighting that urge, you playfully swat at Sy’s meaty, flannel-clad bicep and try not to stare at his veiny forearms.

The man always had great arms; you would have complimented him on them once upon a time. But that was a long time ago, and even though you wanted to devour him where he stood, you weren’t about to let him know that. His head was big enough without you adding your horniness to it.

He steps to the truck bed and reaches a hand in to pick up a case of your favorite beer. He seems pretty pleased with himself and not at all nervous about meeting your new boyfriend. You should’ve known better than to think he would miss the opportunity to annoy your current beau.

You lead him inside where he immediately sniffs the air and exclaims, “Oh, my God! Please tell me that is your pot roast.”

You feel heat rise to your cheeks and nervously reply, “Um, yeah. It’s probably just about done if you want some.”

“If I want some? Of course, it’s my favorite meal,” Sy earnestly comments, and you can’t help but bashfully thank him.

A throat is cleared, and Walter appears at your side, planting a nuzzling kiss on your neck as he snakes an arm around you, making you giggle.

“Walter, this is Sy. Sy, this is Walter, my boyfriend,” you introduce them, smiling to yourself as they offer a hand for a handshake and exchange pleasantries.

“Pleasure ta meetcha, Walter.” “Likewise, Sy.”

They were still shaking each other’s hands until you realized they were having a staring contest.

“Seriously?!” you gripe, equally mad at both of them, “You’re both grown men, right?” You push through their still-joined hands and go into the kitchen.

Olivia rises from the couch and admonishes them as well, “Good going, guys,” as she follows you into the kitchen.

“What?” they say in unison, looking at the only other man in the room. Jace shakes his head, looking between the two of them and taking a pull off his beer.

Walter walks into the kitchen, already apologizing as he approaches where you are sitting at the table. He takes your hand in his and holds it against his chest. It’s less what he says, and more of how he says it. He sounds genuine and he means every word. You peck him on the cheek, forgiving him. Olivia makes sure to tease you about how cute you two are.

Sy saunters in once Walter exits, placing the case of beer on the kitchen counter before opening it, removing two bottles, and handing one to you. Clinking the neck of his bottle against yours, he uncaps his and takes and takes a long pull. Taking a long look at you, he leans back and surveys your level of anger, trying to assess exactly how mad you are.

“Walter seems nice,” he starts in that fatherly tone that always gets a smile out of you.

You shake your head and laugh despite yourself wanting to be mad at him. “You know, he actually is very nice. Just give him a chance to surprise you before you hate his guts, ok? That’s all I ask.”

“Oh, is that all? Easy peasy lemon squeezy,” he grumbles, pouting for a second. “Look, I’ll be on my best behavior like Church on Sunday if I can get some of that pot roast.” He turns those blue topaz eyes on you, and you’re putty in his hands, suddenly wishing Liv wasn’t in the room to watch that little moment.

You rise from your seat, dishing out some of the roast and potatoes and carrots onto a plate for Sy, and place it in front of him. You light up when he closes his eyes at the first bite. His groan of satisfaction is more than enough to signal that you did a great job. But the pat he gives your knee is so warm and so intimate that your muscles instantly react to his touch, wishing it lingered for a second more.

“Liv, can Sy and I have a second to talk?” you plead, hoping that she would give you some space.

“Sure. I’ll just go back to fawning over Jace. He’s so pretty I wanna cry,” she professes, patting your shoulder as she exits the kitchen.

Your eyes follow Olivia as she leaves, and then they snap back to where Sy is sitting smiling at you. And you know this particular smile well.

“Sy, why are you smiling at me like that? You said you would be on your best behavior and that smile is not your best behavior,” you sigh, rolling your eyes, “I know that smile got me to do a lot of things back in the day.”

“A lot of fun things come to mind,” he murmurs, bringing his beer up to his lips to drain before rising to get another and lean on the counter, “But that is not why I’m here tonight. Don’t worry, I’m only here to make sure my favorite girl’s being taken care of. I will be a perfect gentleman, even to yer old man.”

Rising from your seat, you finally open your beer and stand next to him. Taking a sip, you bump his shoulder with yours. “One question I have for you. Why did you agree to come over? I mean, you could have hung up the phone or cursed me out when I asked you over to spend time with me. At my boyfriend’s cabin. In the woods. Just saying that now makes me wonder what was going through your head.”

“Not gonna lie, I loved seeing you the other day. Even though you weren’t exactly pleased to see me, you still told me to be careful out there in the woods. Look, I like having you in my life. If that means I have you as a friend, it’s much better than not having you at all,” he confesses, and your world shatters around you when you look up into his eyes and see his sincerity.

You open your mouth to speak but the words won’t take shape and you’re left looking for the answer in his face. The eyes you got lost in a million times before. The lips you kissed every chance you got. Standing this close, you can breathe each other’s breath. If you only stood on your tippy-toes and leaned in, you’d be right−

“Am I interrupting something?” Olivia’s voice snaps you back to reality and you put some space between you and Sy. She walks in between you two to grab another beer. She gives Sy a look before turning her attention to you, “Your boyfriend’s wondering where you are, bee-tee-dubs.” She throws out her arm, gesturing for you to lead the way back to the living room instead of finishing your conversation. You miss her giving Sy another pointed stare before following you out.

The night goes on as planned, at first. You all watch a college football game, Walter’s alma mater vs their rivals, who just happen to be Sy’s alma mater. You and Sy met after college, and he mentioned having played lacrosse, but he’s never shown interest in football. Until tonight, of course.

It’s been a long time since you and Sy spent time together, but you know his temperament. And he’s off. He doesn’t look like himself either, as if he’s covering up something. With the way that Walter and Jace keep sharing looks, you see he is on their radar as well.

Olivia and Jace occupy the two loungers, so you are sitting in between Walter and Sy on the couch. How lucky! You’re in the perfect spot to listen to Sy rooting loudly for his team and making snide comments all because he doesn’t wanna sit next to you and your new boyfriend.

Walter, on the other hand, is quiet for the most part but trembling with anger. He’s letting Sy get to him, and you can’t stand it anymore. You’re suddenly jealous of Olivia who fell asleep halfway into the game.

You unwrap yourself from around Walter and turn to Sy. “Kitchen. Now.”

He doesn’t answer and mutely follows you, taken aback when you turn on him once you’re both in the kitchen.

“What the hell are you doing? You are being such an ass. I’m trying to hold out an olive branch, but you are not meeting me in the middle, Sy,” you snap, feeling like you could spit fire.

“And why did you even invite me? To parade your new man all over me? I thought maybe we could try and be friends, but now I see all you wanna do is remind me that I wasn’t good enough for you,” Sy erupts, his voice booming and full of rage.

“That’s not fair,” you gasp.

“All’s fair in love, Bug,” he cautions, sweat starting to drip down his forehead, “Look, I’m gonna go before either of us says something we’ll regret.” He turns and storms out of the kitchen before you can step any closer to him, but you are on his tail when he steps out of the front door.

You reach him, putting your hand on his shoulder as you try to stop him. He turns back to you, his eyes closed in a pained expression. His skin is flushed as he rips open his flannel, making it easier for you to see his Adonis belt just above his jeans. The bite mark is nowhere to be seen, having already healed. When he starts to hyperventilate, you try to soothe him by calling his name. Fast as lightning, Walter appears between you and Sy.

“Sy, you have to try and stay calm. You aren’t making this easy on yourself. Let it happen,” Walter holds his hands out, showing he means no harm as he tries to step closer to Sy. Walter starts to shift after removing his sweater and jeans.

“Back off, man,” Sy warns, feeling like he could explode with the heat beneath his skin.

“You can do this, just open your eyes,” Walter replies, before his mouth becomes a snout and talking is impossible.

But when Sy finally opens his eyes, they start to glow. His neck twists at a freakish angle, the sounds of bones crunching has you terrified. Reddish-brown fur sprouts out of his skin as his hands stretch into clawed paws. His confused screams are horrifying. Jace’s booming voice is talking over his cries, talking him through the transformation.

Doubling over, Sy grunts in agony as he falls on all fours. Letting out a howl, his jeans fall away as he transforms for the first time. You scream, taking a step back when he sniffs the air and he takes one step toward you.

Sy paces back and forth in front of Walter, seeming to weigh his options. Walter’s wolf form stands an inch or two taller than Sy as he puts distance between you and the new wolf.

Just as the tension is insurmountable, a throat is cleared, and you all look to see Jace standing in the driveway. Nonchalant, but his eyes keenly take in the scene in front of him as he nods at Walter. Olivia is at Jace’s side, dumbfounded by what she is witnessing. When she notices that rumbling sound coming from Jace is him growling, she throws away fear in place of curiosity.

The two wolves are kicking dust up with their feet, squaring off until Jace steps a bit closer to back up his brother. Sy had a chance of maybe beating Walter. But a new wolf up against two bonded brother wolves? No way in hell.

You step in between the three of them. Holding out your hands, you plead with them not to fight. Walter’s nose nudges at your legs and he huffs in Sy’s face. Walter shifts back, picking up his jeans to put back on, and crossing his arms across his massive chest.

Walter and Jace move closer to Sy as he snarls at them until he sees you, clinging to Olivia. Tears fall from your eyes and something inside of Sy breaks. Looking to you, he can see the fear on your face and you wonder if that is what causes him to want to shift back into human form. The two brothers talk Sy down, telling him how to return to human form.

Once his bones have settled and the whining howls stop, Sy is in the fetal position on the lawn. Shivering, sweaty, and scared. His clothes are ruined, but you think you remember seeing a blanket in the truck bed earlier. You ask Olivia to get the blanket while you caress Sy’s face.

Once the blanket is around his middle, you accept help from Walter to lift him up. Sy uses his last ounce of energy to push Walter away.

Coming back to himself, Sy refocuses his anger on Walter. “This has nothing to do with you. Gonna need you to step aside,” Sy fumes, cranky from the changes he doesn’t understand he’s going through.

“That’s just not gonna happen. Maybe if you weren’t trying to move in on what’s mine, I’d be sorry for what I’ve done,” Walter seethes, “After all, I’m the one that bit you.”

You and Sy are both in a state of shock but for different reasons. Sy just found out werewolves are real, and your boyfriend just referred to you as “what’s his'.

“You did this to me?” Sy’s rage peaks.

“Hey, hey. Focus on my voice, come back. You don’t wanna do this,” you trail off as Sy calms down.

His irises are back to their brilliant blue and you can see recognition in them. He looks tired, but he is no worse for wear.

“Can we get outta here? Go someplace we can just…talk?” Sy insists.

You think for a second about how pissed you are at Walter for being extremely callous about turning Sy, not to mention talking about you as if you were a piece of property to be owned. You turn to look back at Walter before answering Sy.

“Yeah, I’d like that,” you affirm, putting one of Sy’s arms around your neck to help him walk back to his truck.

You watch Jace stand in front of Walter to stop him from following after you. “Let her cool off, you did just kinda refer to her as ‘what’s mine’, and generally women don’t like that outside of the bedroom.”

Olivia steps over to Walter, putting a hand on his shoulder, her expression calm and collected. “He won’t hurt her. He cares too much about her to do that.”

You get into the driver’s seat after putting Sy in the passenger side, not allowing him to drive. You caution a glance at Walter, instantly regretting looking at his mournful face. Turning the car on, you back out of the driveway and drive out to Sy’s place.

As you drive there from muscle memory, you look over at Sy now and then. The streetlights of the town dash across his solemn face and bare chest as he sleeps. You almost don’t want to wake him when you make it to his house, he looks so peaceful and not like his life has been turned upside-down. You wake him with the back of your hand smoothing down his face. He grabs it, lost for a moment before he sees your face and where he is.

You help him get inside and suddenly feel exhausted as well. You loiter in the living room while he grabs a glass of water from the kitchen. You didn’t really plan how you were going to get back to Walter’s cabin tonight. And if you’re honest with yourself, you don’t want to go back tonight.

Sy comes back out, gulping down water from his glass while holding the blanket low around his middle.

“Is it okay if we wait to talk? I’m tired as hell. I’ll take the couch if that’s alright?” You ask, sitting down on the couch and starting to move the pillows.

“You’re not staying out here. You’re sleeping in the bedroom. I’ll take the couch. I’ll grab you something to sleep in,” he rattles on, moving to the bedroom as you stand from the couch and look at your feet.

Sy comes back out to the living room. He’s barefoot, shirtless, and in a pair of grey sweatpants. He just can’t help himself, you think.

“I left you a shirt and some shorts on the bed. Let me know if you need anything, alright?” he advises, using a hand on the small of your back to guide you to the bedroom.

You laugh when you see Sy left you his Mötley Crüe shirt. While putting on the shirt and the boxers, you look at the bed and you know that you don’t want to sleep alone. You don’t care that this will only further complicate your relationship, but you need to not be alone right now. Your bare feet pad across the wood floor as you go back out to the living room.

Sy hears you and picks his head up to look at you. “You alright, Bug?”

“I don’t wanna sleep alone. I know that’s probably−”

Sy was already up and ushering you back into the bedroom before you could finish your sentence. You pull back the covers so you both can climb in. You enter first and then he slides under the blanket next to you. He lays on his back, you on your side facing away from him. You wiggle your body backward until you come into contact with his warmth. You reach back for his arm and pull it around you.

“Is this okay?” you hesitate, suddenly afraid that you’re asking too much.

“Yeah. S’ok,” he whispers, his breath fanning across your neck. If he notices the shiver that goes down your spine, you’re grateful that he doesn’t mention it.

“Good night, Sy,” you murmur, yawning at the end of your sentence.

“G’night, Bug,” he breathes.

As you drift off to sleep, you think how different you imagined this day ending. You didn’t expect to be in your ex’s arms tonight instead of Walter’s. But you did expect to be in a werewolf’s embrace. Sy’s breath evens out behind you, the rising and falling of his chest against your back is enough to lull you into a peaceful slumber.

To be continued...

A/N: I would love to know what you think of this chapter!

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rhiaarrow · 2 months

Text

Today I'm upcycling an old ramble from my notes!

Obviously it's all personal interpretation so feel free to chime in your own takes or correct me if you think I'm really far off with some egg 🙃

So without further ado, here are my personal headcanons of what each egg wears to sleep!

CHAYANNE -

Chayanne just sleeps in a t-shirt of any color and any color of sleep shorts, his ass does not care about pyjama colors just as long as they're comfortable.

He normally knocks out as soon as his head hits the pillow anyway so he couldn't care less what he's wearing and would happily sleep in his regular clothes some days.

Sometimes Phil will braid the top section of Chayanne's hair too after he braids Tallulah's, just to keep it out of his face while he sleeps.

But it's a loose short braid and with the length of Chayanne's hair not all of it can actually make it into the braid so the bottom section always hangs loose regardless of the braid or not.

DAPPER -

Dapper wears a fancy black silk buttoned pyjama shirt with red decals and details but it's always paired with hideously patterned pyjama pants.

They could have anything on them! Cartoon zoo animals, Rainbow zigzags, Multicolor polka dots, Cartoon food items, Tie dyed, Animal print, Fruit print, Old grandma couch print, 80s arcade carpet print, they could just have faces all over them! Literally ANYTHING as long as it doesn't match the pyjama top (because it drives his Dad absolutely crazy and he loves it).

He also wears a pair of thick plain fluffy socks over his feet at night, since demons naturally run cold to deal with the heat of their home, which unfortunately means Dapper having a Demon as his parent (as well as Em and Pomme) gets cold feet during the night if they don't wear fluffy socks.

She also sleeps with her hair tied up in a loose protective bun on top of their head to keep most of it out of his mouth and eyes while he sleeps.

LEONARDA -

Leo sleeps in cartoon patterned pyjamas but not matching sets, ohhhh no, this girl wears pieces from 2 completely separate sets which do not match at all.

For example she might wear bright blue and red spiderman pyjama bottoms paired with a pale purple pyjama shirt with a giant cartoon panda in the middle or a pair of rainbow striped MLP pyjama bottoms with a pyjama shirt covered in hundreds of close up Walter dog faces.

When she sleeps Leo leaves her hair loose to go absolutely everywhere and does not brush it before bed even though her hair gets tangled easily.

Which unfortunately means her Pa Foolich has to help her brush out the hundreds of knots every single morning but Leo absolutely refuses to sleep with it tied up no matter how much he tries to convince her it'd be a good idea.

She also insists on wearing socks to bed every single night but immediately kicks them off as soon as she actually falls asleep which Foolish finds hilarious.

RAMÓN -

Ramón sleeps in a plain tank top and he used to just sleep in a pair of plain sweatpants like his Dad but nowadays he sleeps in a pair of blue pac man patterned pyjama bottoms that he absolutely totally 100% did not steal from Pac's washing line outside his house.

The drawstrings are always tied to keep them up, since they're not kid sized, and he's clearly taken a pair of shears to the bottom but not re-hemmed them so there's loose threads everywhere (neither Fit or Pac makes a comment on it though, because as long as Ramón's happy they're happy so Pac just secretly sews up the hems and makes adjustments to the waistband while Ramon's with Fit and says nothing).

Ramón's hair is short enough that it doesn't make a difference how he wears it at night, it might stick up a bit in the morning from where he was laying on it but he wears the meathead all day so it doesn't matter and hell, Ramón would happily sleep in his meathead too if Fit would let him.

And obviously the moustache stays on while he's asleep, duh.

TALLULAH -

Tallulah wears a pair of black flannel pyjama pants and a short sleeved purple nightgown, which looks more like an oversized t-shirt but it has scallop hemmed edges that indicate that it is actually supposed to be down to her knees.

The purple nightgown has black and darker purple polka dots all over it and the hemming is done in black thread with a large cartoon skull decal on the center (that she doesn't really like because it looks too cartoonish).

Before she sleeps she brushes her hair and bangs and Phil braids it for her, into a neat and very tight French braid (or two braids depending on what he feels like) to keep it from going crazy while she sleeps.

And obviously when she goes to sleep her hearing aids are removed and put in a little box that she keeps on the windowsill above their big family bed so she can easily reach them in the morning.

RICHARLYSON -

Richarlyson sleeps in only a pair of sleep shorts, a variety of colors depending which house he sleeps in, right now it's been either red for Pai Cellbit, green for Pai Mike or black for Tio Bad since they're the only houses he's actually slept at so far (but he has blue shorts prepared for when they stay over at Pai Pac's and pink for staying with Mae Bagi).

He takes off the football shirt to sleep and no matter how many times her parents ask them to put on a pyjama shirt she doesn't, Richas just sleeps half naked because he can.

He also has a silk hair bonnet that he really should wear to bed every night but he doesn't like it, well no, they like it slightly better now that Pac sewed the outside to be mushroom patterned like her regular hat but he still doesn't wear it every single night no matter how many times her parents ask him to.

Obviously when he sleeps they have to remove his prosthetic leg so he sleeps with only a protective compression sleeve over their stump (like Pai Pac) and her leg just lies beside her bed, he has a prosthetic stand he's supposed to use for it, but again he doesn't do it every night regardless of her parents reminding him.

POMME -

Pomme wears one of the pretty matching pyjama sets, the ones with a cute graphic on the shirt and then that design is patterned smaller all over the bottoms.

She sleeps in a long sleeved pyjama shirt with red sleeves and a white chest with a green apple decal in the middle, paired with green pyjama trousers (the same shade as the decal) with red apples (the same as her sleeves) and white polka dots patterned on them.

Pomme also wears a pair of thick knitted socks every night because her feet get cold, these aren't intentionally matching her pyjamas but since it was Etoiles that knitted them back when he was the 'wool warrior' after losing to the code, they're all either one of the French flag colors or green so they match unless she wears the blue ones.

Her hair is neatly brushed by one of her parents and in a loose braid (or braids) that inevitably falls out overnight, but she won't sleep if it's tied too tight and she doesn't like having her hair tickling her while she tries to get to sleep, she honestly doesn't care what state it's in when she wakes up she can cover some of it with her beret anyway.

EMPANADA -

Empanada sleeps in a long sleeved ankle length nightgown with frilly edges and bow details, the full works.

The nightgown is a brown and pink tartan with white lace frills around the edges of the nightgown and down the seams and it's got little pink bows where they're necessary.

She also wears thick socks with grippy silicone bottoms while getting ready for bed so her feet don't get dirty or cold, but she doesn't wear them in bed, she takes them off and leaves them beside her bed so she can put them back on when she wakes up.

To actually sleep in she wears non grippy fluffy socks which she keeps in her bedside table drawer and they all have cute little kitty patterns on them since Bagi bought them in bulk when she learnt Em got cold feet during the night.

She sleeps with her hair left loose on the pillows but unlike Leo it doesn't go crazy overnight since Empanada is the kind of little girl who brushes her hair 100 times by herself before bed and brushes it another 100 times when she hears Bagi wake up in the room above hers so that it's always neat by the time her Mamae comes to get her in the morning.

SUNNY -

In the early days Tubbo didn't have kids pyjamas and he was too proud to ask another parent for a spare set so Sunny slept in one of Tubbo's shirts like a nightgown, unfortunately for Tubbo, she still does it now even after he's bought them pyjama sets in every color under the sun.

So every night Sunny sleeps in a stolen shirt of Tubbo's that comes down to her knees and the neck hangs off her shoulders a little, with a pair of pyjama pants and a plain vest top underneath.

Obviously she changes the color of the pants every single night in no particular rotation to wear all the fancy pyjama sets her Pa bought her to try and stop her stealing his shirts (it didn't work).

They also sleep with a orange and yellow striped silk bonnet on every single night to protect their hair so that she always looks good in the mornings even before her Pa does her hair for the day.

She obviously takes off her sunglasses to sleep but she replaces them with an orange sleep mask with 'SUNNY' bedazzled on the front in blue diamantes because if she doesn't wear the sleep mask then everything is way too bright when they're trying to sleep since they wear sunglasses all day.

PEPITO -

Pepito sleeps in a crew necked red and white striped onesie with grippy feet covers so Pepito doesn't fall over.

Pepito's hair is usually fine when Pepito sleeps but Pepito occasionally gets crazy bed head, but all Pepito does on those mornings is brush it out as much as Pepito can and put on a bandana or a beanie along with Pepito's glasses and gasmask so Pepito can try to make it look like a purposeful style choice (it works about 30% of the time).

CHUNSIK -

Chunsik always sleeps in an animal onesie, his Dad originally dressed him in a crocodile one but then his Mom bought him a shark one and they fight over which one he wears each night.

Chunsik doesn't care though, he's just happy to have two onesies now, and both of them have sharp teeth on the hood and a tail on the butt and he just thinks that's awesome!

His hair gets a little messed up from sleeping in the hoods but it doesn't get tangled easily so it's easy to brush it out in the morning before he puts on his hat.

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baiabay · 11 months

Text

No Role Modelz (ATSV Black Cat Variant! Reader Insert)

Chapter 1: Scaredy-Cat

Prologue

Chapter 1: Current Chapter

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

^^links 2 chapters!! this story is also on ao3, wattpad, and quotev under the same name ! <33

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

A/N: Spot is here!!

Hey all! Okay so first things first thank you so much for all the support of the last chapter! It honestly means alot given that ive never written before lol. Alsoooo sorry for the radio-silence after the last release, i just graduated highschool! So yay for me :) also means that ill have much more time to write since its summer break for me now. Lastly,sorry if this chapter seemed kinda slow, I wanted to try to incorporate what this universes’ Felicia Hardys “canon events”(or what would be of her canon events) would look like in this chapter to set up a bit of backstory, as someone who doesn’t read the comics nor play the games, pls forgive any inaccuracies in Felicias lore as I am only going based off of wikipedia (plus in this story reader is a minor so I wanted to exclude the nsfw trauma that Felicia goes through in og story) I also wanted to find out a way how to integrate reader into the main plot which is why i decided to feature Spot in this chapter :D thanks again for the support and don’t forget that this chapter along with any future ones will be posted to ao3/tumblr under the same title!

P.S. Much more Spider-Miles/Black Cat interactions next chapter!!

Word Count: 1844

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You remembered it like it was yesterday.

Seven months ago, Brooklyn, New York.

Your father - The Black Cat’s face on every screen in the country, but most importantly yours.

BREAKING NEWS: WORLD-RENOWNED CAT BURGLAR CAUGHT IN THE ACT : IDENTITY SHOCKS THE NATION

…huh?

LIVE ON THE SCENE: ‘BLACK CAT’ REVEALED TO BE MULTI MILLIONAIRE WALTER HARDY AFTER RUN-IN WITH SPIDER-MAN

…no, this-

THIS JUST IN: CAT BURGLAR WALTER HARDY PRESUMED DEAD AT HEIST SCENE - POSSESSIONS TO BE TURNED IN TO OFFICIALS

This can’t be happening.

It was all too much at once.

He never kept it secret from you. You knew about your father’s job.

You knew all about what he did. The planning, the heists, the reselling, he had done it for years. And you knew all about it. But he had been doing this for years. Long enough to allow your family to live very comfortably. Long enough that you believed he would never be caught.

But yet there you were, all that you knew burned to the ground in a matter of minutes.

You remembered it like it was yesterday. Frantically packing everything you could into any bag you could find; clothes, money, pictures, weapons, anything - before they could take it away from you.

And when they did, it was brutal.

Live-streamed news coverage of men raiding your home, rummaging through your stuff- your father’s stuff- as if he never existed.

Soon enough there were auctions. Bids, worth millions, on your father’s items, broadcasted across the nation, with drinks and music and finger foods - they made a fucking sport out of it.

You remembered it like it was yesterday, the cheers in the street after the big-bad-black-cat was pronounced dead. The endless praise Spider-man received, that of which he took with a smile on his face. You had wished you could kill him.

You remembered it like it was yesterday, the day Peter Parker died.

You laughed.

. . . . . . . . . .

Seven months later, Brooklyn, New York.

Ugh.

Muscles aching, you stretched up in your bed, and groaned. Ruffling the bedhead out of your hair, you reluctantly trudged out of your mattress to open a window. Coincidentally, one of your many cats was perched perfectly on its sill, wide-eyed and tail flicking in your direction.

“...This whole heist stuff is really catching up to me, huh?”

The cat stared. You sighed. You really had to get yourself some friends.

Ever since your fathers passing, you’ve basically been on your own. Shortly after all his (and your) possessions were seized, you hopped around until you managed to find shelter in a shitty apartment on the west side of town. You, fueled purely by spite (with a tasteful teeny tiny dash of vengeance on the side), inherited the criminal persona of your father, along with his criminal tendencies, and took upon yourself the name of The Black Cat.

All this time you’ve managed to keep your identity completely secret, not even your resellers knew who you were. That came with one major drawback though… you were extremely lonely.

Even with your frequent charity rounds around the community, noone really knew who you were. Even though Black Cat was nonviolent, the name was widely feared seemingly everywhere you went. Even with your days at school, the school you’ve been going to for months now, you made your way around the halls unnoticed.

Speaking of school, you were late.

Shit.

Spending ample time dazing out your window, you’ve completely lost track of time. You disregarded your hair and rushed to pull on your uniform. Stumbling around your complex you hastily dumped too large of a portion of cat food into the automatic feeder, something you’re sure the cats will be grateful for. Shoving a few snacks into your bag, you simultaneously shuffled into your school shoes, proceeding to dash out the door.

Sprinting down the stairs, nearly tripping once, twice, you whipped out your phone to check when the next bus route would arrive. 35 minutes.

Shitshitshit.

You paused, still in the stairwell, before turning to sprint in the opposite direction, towards the rooftop terrace. Creaking open the door, you checked to make sure noone else was up there before making your way towards the edge of the terrace. To anyone else but you, it would look like a young student was about to make an unfortunate decision and jump. And jump you did.

You fell for a few seconds, relishing in the way your stomach dropped. You’d never get tired of that feeling. Seeing the ground get closer, you released your grappling hook and latched onto the nearest building. Pulling and releasing, you quickly fell into a swinging pattern, towards Brooklyn Visions.

Hidden from the eyes of civilians, you swung yourself through the shadows. Everyone looked so small from up there, and for a brief second, you found power in your lonesome. In the corner of your eye you noticed what seemed to be a lanky white figure clumsily flying through the air. (You paid it no mind).

Dropping down into a dark alleyway much closer to campus, you continued your mad dash towards the main entrance. Winded, you finally made your way inside the building, a thin layer of sweat shined on your forehead. The hallways were empty, class must be in session. You took a few steps forward, making your way towards your classroom until being knocked over by a student, very evidently in a hurry.

“Sorry! Sorry, I didn’t mean to-I’m just in a rush, I didn’t mean…”

The boy reached out his hand to help you up.

“Hey, it's no problem, I get it.”

You smiled, and took your hand in his. He hesitated for a moment, staring, brows furrowed at your now interlocked hands, before nodding and continuing his sprint down the hallways.

You took in his disheveled appearance, his wonky tie, his half-tucked shirt, untied laces, dark eyes, curly hair, brown skin, sweaty palms…

Your thoughts were quickly interrupted with the shrill ringing of the school bell. Suddenly, the hallways flooded with students rushing towards their next classes, you decided to follow suit.

On the other side of the hallway, Miles Morales lingered on how his spidey-sense flashed alarms in his head when his hand touched yours. Every nerve in his system telling him to run, fight, dodge, anything to get away from you-he couldn't put his finger on why. (He paid it no mind). Blaming it on nerves, Miles shoved his way through the packed hallways, dreading the meeting waiting for him in the guidance counselor's office.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . .

School was a bust, as always. Nothing new, you made your way through the rest of the day unnoticed. As always. But you didn’t have time to think about that right now.

At the moment, you were in the middle of going through numerous number-codes on a padlock blocking the vault door to an extremely expensive gemstone. You’ve been salivating over this stone for weeks now, planning out how and when exactly you would strike to get this thing in your hands. You could see it now, the headlines, the chaos, after some rando millionaire’s little rock was taken from him…

“Woah, hey, you’re new!”

You flinched, hard. Whipping around towards the source of this unusually chipper voice. You were met with… a cow? … Man?

You stared, hard.

“Okay, hey. The ogling isn’t necessary… I just-”

The cowman’s sentence was cut short with a quick lash of your whip, that of which he caught…? Your whip seemed to phase right through a large black hole on his torso, the opposite end appearing in a similar black hole right behind you, the whips end striking your back. You cried out, hit with the full force of your lash.

Sinister giggles emerged from the spotted figure, pointed towards your pained form. You trembled, in shock.

“It’s rude to interrupt.”

Spot stepped slowly towards you, his…well, spots, whirring aggressively, pointedly. You were frozen on the ground. Staring up at him, your lips trembled open.

“What,” You coughed. Once, twice. “-what are you?”

The black and white figure straightened, only to then fold over into a dramatic, hilariously unthreatening pose.

“You, can call me… The Sp-”

“Some sort of cow?” You snickered. It was now his turn to flinch, hard.

“I am NOT a-” The cow cleared his throat. “I am not a cow…whydoeseveryonesaythat…I, am the most dangerous villain you’ve ever seen, The Spo-”

“I mean, what’s with that getup?” The grin on your face grew. “Is that… is that supposed to be a costume? Orrrr…”

The Spot sighed, defeated. “...it’s skin.”

“It’s skin?”

“Yes, yes, now I-”

You stood up, energy back and eyes crinkled.

“Wow, that’s…hm, interesting…skin, that’s skin? Sorry, sorry-listen man, I uh, I really gotta get back to this, so if you don’t mind?”

Stepping backwards in offence, the spotted figure shook in anger before swinging out his arm, releasing numerous dark voids around the room. Hitting practically every surface, but one most importantly, landing on the vault door, separating you, from your stone.

“Ah-wait-”

Swiftly, The Spot weaved his way through his holes, limbs popping up and out around the room in a way you couldn’t even begin to reach for your whip.

No way was he about to take it from you.

But take it, he did.

In what felt like seconds, the whole room was engulfed in black. Stumbling backwards, you fell through one of the voids, flailing ungracefully, swimming through nothing.

It was hard to breathe.

A shrill crackling terrorized your ears, and before you, appeared a very disheveled Spot, now fully black with white spots, facial dot whirring and trained on you.

Gem in hand.

Panic.

You were panicking. The sound of blood thrummed in your ears as you squirmed around in nothingness. Fuck the rock, you just had to get out of here.

A cold hand grabs your wrist, dragging you upwards, towards the crackling form.

For the second time today, you were frozen.

“I am not a cow,”

The form spoke lowly.

“I am not some villain of the week”,

Frozen still, you did nothing but stare straight into his glare.

“I. Am. The Spot”.

Suddenly, you were dropped. For the second time today, your stomach dropped with you. Next thing you know you’re falling through another void, leading not into darkness, but through the city skyline. Seeing the ground get closer, you released your grappling hook and latched onto the nearest building.

As soon as your feet reached a solid surface, your legs buckled. Heaving, you failed to process what just took place, heart pounding in your ears.

“...the fuck was that?”

. . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Miles received word of commotion taking place downtown, something to do with spots. He had hoped it wasn’t what he thought it was, and it was. It was, and was so much worse.

Dark spots littered a large manor, maniacal cackling emerging from its center. In the corner of his eye a familiar masked figure hunched over, breathing rapidly, staring straight ahead at the mess of spots.

(He paid it some mind.)

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

Ppl that asked me to tag them!(thxx 4 the support!)

@nightshxdex

@itszzmoon

@blackcat-kittyblogs

@vxxxb

#miles morales x reader #atsv x you #atsv #reader insert #atsv x reader #atsv reader insert #spider-man: across the spider-verse #across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse x reader #black cat! reader #hobie brown x reader #gwen stacy x reader #pavitr prabhakar x reader #miguel ohara

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satansapostle6 · 3 months

Text

Kids | Rodrick Heffley

Spotify Playlist Link

Rodrick Heffley becomes obsessed when he finally meets his thirty-five year old band mate, Bill Walter’s, younger sister.

Warnings: Mature themes/language. Drug use. Violence. Smut. Oral(both receiving).

“Meet the Fuckers”

“French Inhale”

“You’re so stupid,” Sara laughed happily.

“You’re so mean!” Rodrick Heffley complained.

“Am not,” she rolled her eyes derisively.

“Are too,” Rodrick teased as they lay together on his bed.

“Maybe you’re just sensitive. Did you ever think of that?” she questioned.

“Wow,” Rodrick scoffed, shaking his head.

“I’m sorry, baby, I didn’t mean it,” she assured him jokingly, ruffling his hair as he just stared at her with admiration.

“…I forgive you,” he sighed after a long pause.

He smiled with his eyes closed and everything as he nuzzled his head into Sara’s hand as she cupped his face affectionately. The two of them had just finished splitting a joint and three bowls between them out Rodrick’s window, and both were in a comfortable, relaxed mood.

However, for Rodrick, after a certain amount of weed, ‘relaxed’ tended to mean horny as long as Sara was there. He didn’t know why, but this time, it was something about the way the warm afternoon sunlight indirectly hit her face as it shone through the window. In that light, and every other light, Sara just looked absolutely beautiful to him, beautiful to the point of being surreal.

“Rodrick?”

“Hmm?”

“Can you roll another blunt?” she asked sweetly.

“Mhm,” he nodded automatically.

From the way that he spoke, she knew he would’ve done anything she asked, with the utmost enthusiasm. He rushed himself so that it wasn’t long before he and Sara were sitting by the window, taking turns blowing smoke out of it. He watched her as she did a masterful French inhale, thick cloud of smoke trailing from out past her lips up to her nose.

She beckoned him forward, taken with his air of innocent obedience as she took a deep hit, carefully breathing the smoke into his mouth as he felt a rush of ecstasy. Rodrick let out a long sigh as he blew out the window, the two of them both in a state of romantic euphoria as they returned to lying on his bed together, laying flat on the mattress like one big blanket.

Sara smiled with amusement at her boyfriend’s admiration of her, moving in to kiss him. He chuckled softly into their kiss as he softly connected his lips to hers, the warmth between them causing him to moan slightly, completely unexpected as he tried to cover it up with the clearing of his throat.

But Sara had already caught on on her own, letting out a soft ‘hmm’ as she began to test him. The amount she’d smoked was also somewhat affecting her, but not quite in the same way as Rodrick. As she leaned in to kiss him again, she angled her body more towards his, hand creeping onto his thigh as he felt a shiver run down his spine.

“Baby,” Rodrick gasped, gulping loudly. “I’m so turned on right now,” he confessed breathily.

“I know,” Sara whispered, fully aware that she was completely in control.

Although Rodrick liked to pretend otherwise in front of other people, Sara was the one who wore the pants in the relationship. Everything was determined by her; Rodrick’s world revolved completely around her. She knew this, of course, and tried to reward him for his affection as often as possible.

Rodrick moaned again softly as Sara’s hand slid up his pants, gently palming the one place where he needed her. She enjoyed his desperation as he tried to keep up with her kiss, gasping in a flustered manner as she seemed to be massaging him gently.

“Sara,” Rodrick stared at her in awe as a hard bulge began to appear.

He just laid there, a dumb expression on his face as the palmed him through his pants. He couldn’t even think of anything better to say; he was too excited, eagerly anticipating her next move.

“I know, baby,” she nodded, “I know.”

“Sara…”

Rodrick locked eyes with her in desperation as she gripped him, hard.

“What’s the matter?” she teased. “Hmm?”

“I need it, baby,” he begged, “Please?” his voice hitched in his throat as he spoke.

She watched, thoroughly entertained, as he looked at her with the most helpless expression left on his face.

“Even just a little bit…”

“I’ve got you, baby,” she promised him, crawling towards him on the bed as she stopped to unzip his jeans.

Rodrick watched her blankly, no longer feeling like begging her as he just sat back, allowing her to completely take control. He was so high and so horny, he didn’t even feel like pretending he wanted to win this battle of control.

“I got you, okay?” she reassured him, pulling his pants down.

He nodded silently, looking at her with complete and utter trust as she helped take his pants off and slid his dark grey briefs down. His eyes widened as his erection finally sprang free. Sara leaned forward, wrapping her fist tightly around it as she slowly pumped up and down, watching him as he stared at her expectantly.

“Aw, so pretty,” she complimented him as he nearly blushed. “Look at you…”

She grinned as she pumped her fist up and down, pace picking up as he began to breathe with his mouth agape. He struggled not to let sound escape, but she still picked up on this.

“Aw, so excited and I haven’t even gotten to sucking yet,” she remarked.

“You—” Rodrick had to stop himself as he felt it twitch. “You’re gonna suck it?” he asked her almost stupidly.

Sara was amused at his slight lack of experience. Rodrick had done things before, but not consistently enough to understand the way these things worked right away. He looked at Sara gratefully as her stroking grew more intense.

“Yeah, baby,” she told him. “You want that? Hmm?”

“Yeah,” Rodrick gasped, his voice more of a whisper than anything. “Oh… Fuck!”

His mouth was left agape as he silently screamed, the sensation currently feeling unlike anything he’d ever experienced before. The warm and wet feelings were all he could concentrate on as he saw nothing but blonde hair and perfectly lined eyes below him.

“Feels so good,” he said in a husky whisper. “Fuck, baby, my shit’s on fire… In a good way,” he thought, highly aware of his own strangeness.

He let out a surprisingly high-pitched gasp, sounding more and more like a porn star as she went on.

“Sara!” he yelled her name as his fists clutched the sheets in excitement. “Sara…!”

He groaned involuntarily as he felt her hands squeezing his thighs, a feeling which was, for some reason, incredibly heightened.

“Fuck, baby, I can’t take it anymore, I need to come…!” he whined. “Please, baby… Lemme be your little porn star!”

The surprisingly cold hands gripping his thighs tightened their grip as Sara looked up at him with her eyes narrowed in victory, resisting a smug chuckle as she felt it shooting down her throat, swallowing with a sick enthusiasm.

“Ohmygod!” he panted, eyes squeezed shut, “Ohmygod!”

Rodrick was in shambles as Sara lifted her head, grinning as she wiped her arm across her lips, going to sit on his still half-hard dick. He smiled almost in relief as he realized she was playing the long game, a phrase which Sara would’ve felt aptly described what he had going on.

“Come here, baby,” he said impatiently, pulling her down towards him, planting a needy kiss on her lips. “Mmm... I love you,” he raved.

Sara’s response was nonverbal. She grinned further into the kiss as she grabbed a fistful of his hair, making him gasp lightly. He looked at her in shock, waiting impatiently for her to do something else.

“Baby?” he said meekly.

“What.”

He found her dominance alarming, as all the blood rushed to a single part of his body.

“Can I lick your pussy?” he asked hopefully. “Please? Pretty please?”

High on his love, she needed no further explanation and tossed what remained of her clothes over her shoulder as she positioned herself on top of him. Lazy as he was, Rodrick was set on being on bottom.

“Come here,” he huffed, “Lemme show you how much I love you…”

He replicated her earlier treatment of him, fingers digging into the soft flesh of her thighs as he pulled her down on top of his face, groaning at the feeling of her. She sighed, content as he instinctively sucked on her clit, needing to give her the most euphoric feeling of gratification possible.

She felt his warm hands moving all the way up from her thighs to her breasts, grabbing and pawing at anything he could. He grumbled and moaned all sorts of nonsense into her as he kitten-licked up and down, knowing exactly which sounds of hers meant to keep doing what he was doing.

Sara threw her head back, quite literally riding out the high, desperately thrusting into his face. He was living for all of it. She sat up for a moment to give him a break, watching as he pouted.

“Why’d you take it away?” he complained breathlessly. “I want you to come on my face.”

He had gotten pretty carried away. She giggled at his sweet pouting, leaning down to kiss him as he eagerly kissed back. Unexpectedly, Rodrick used her pleasure to take control for a brief moment, quickly and lightly flipping her over as he buried his face in her neck, planting soft, wet kisses all over her neck as she sighed. His lips trailed all over her naked body, lingering the whole way down.

Her skin truly felt as if it were on fire as he slowly kissed the inside of her thighs, chuckling to himself as he watched her hips instinctively bucking upwards, in need of some relief. Rodrick grinned as his face hovered over hers for a moment, distracting her with a charming smile until she suddenly felt two long fingers slowly entering.

She moaned quietly as he returned to his comfort zone between her legs, licking long stripes up her pussy as his fingers rapidly pumped in and out of her. She sighed as aggressively kissed her clit, taking a moment to spit on it before lapping it back up again.

Sara closed her eyes for a moment, sighing as she prayed for the world to end at this very moment. Her breath hitched slightly as he suckled on her swollen clit, suddenly bringing her to an unexpected but welcome climax as he groaned hungrily into her body.

The sudden head rush of pleasure made her laugh aloud as she wrapped her legs around his head, respecting the eager way he held onto them like his life depended on it. Rodrick moaned excitably as he lapped up the wetness, taking his time to lick all over her thighs as she finished on his face. He looked up at her with a grin, feeling rewarded as he jumped onto the bed beside her.

Sara carefully wrapped her arm around him, feeling his soft black hair as he burrowed into the space adjacent to her body. Eventually, the two drifted off into a peaceful nap as they hid themselves beneath the covers of Rodrick’s bed. Sara turned onto her side as Rodrick lay behind her, spooning her as he felt her butt poking into him as an act of comfort.

Kids

#rodrick heffley #rodrick rules #diary of a wimpy kid rodrick #rodrick x reader #doawk rodrick #doawk #diary of a wimpy kid #rodrick heffley smut #devon bostick #rodrick fanfic #rodrick x y/n #rodrick smut

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dreamofbetterthings · 10 months

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"The things I can show you." Thomas Doherty x FAAB reader

Prompt: “Oh, the things I can show you, little one.” Celebrity: Thomas Doherty/Walter Deville Movie: The Invitation Spoilers: None, this follows nothing from the movie. Summary: Filming for you and Thomas' new movie was a breeze… until he walked onto the set with fangs. Word Count: 4K

Warnings: 18+ choking kink, pet names (honey, sweetheart), biting kink, slight dubcon towards the beginning, dirty talk, slight impregnation kink?, begging, blood? I think that's all. If I miss any please let me know.

Minors DNI You are responsible for your own content consumption. I can tell you the post is not for minors, but if you choose not to listen, that is on you.

A/N I pulled this out of my head in the wee hours of the morning and could not lay back down until it was written and published. FAAB means female assigned at birth in relationship with the reader. I know my uploading schedule is shit. I am working on it. Also, chapter 3 of It's Been A Long, Long Time will be up soon. Until then, here's some slow-burn smut to keep ya nasties entertained. You're welcome.

You and Thomas spent nearly every day together on set. Even when he wasn't set to shoot anything that day, he was always hanging around the director to see every scene you filmed. The Invitation was a well-talked-about movie and based on what the folks on social media were saying, you were excited to let the world see the finished result. Thomas always managed to know when you would walk onto the set, and be the first person to speak to you.

"Good morning. I have a coffee for you." Thanking him, you took the coffee and all but chugged it. When you could hear his laughter, you pulled away from the cup.

"Oh come on. You act like you don't do the same thing when we've been filming all day." He puts his hands up in surrender and smiles.

"I won't deny that." Thomas grabs a script from a nearby table and flips through the sections of the script that are blocked in blue.

"Speaking of filming, most of the scenes look relatively quick for today. I think we're doing the last bit of scenes between the two of us and then we'll shift to the courtyard stuff after lunch." He shows you the script and before you can say anything, his name is being called into hair and makeup.

"And let the chaos ensue." He lets out a little chuckle.

"I wish you weren't right about that. I'll see you on the set?" Nodding your head you hear your own name being called. "Absolutely. Let's kill it today!" The two of you walk in your respective directions toward hair and makeup.

Run.

That was the only thing on your mind right now. Your feet hammered against the ground as you ran through the hallway. Your heart pounded against your chest, body aching. Your bag along with your phone was long gone as you ran for your life. Whoever that was, whatever it was that you were running away from, was not human. It looked like one, it sounded like one, but you knew better. An ominous growl came from behind and you could hear footsteps towards you.

You sprinted around the corner and took many twists and turns throughout the house, but every door you came to was somehow now locked, despite not being earlier. Running a few more feet down the hall you managed to find an unlocked door. You quickly ran into the room and silently closed the door before locking it.

It was another bedroom. The windows were barred and there were no other interconnecting rooms. You were screwed. The only places to hide were under the bed and in the closet. You decided against trying to fit your large dress under the bed and slipped into the surprisingly spacious closet. After what felt like an eternity of silence, there was a jiggle of the doorknob. A menacing laugh was heard on the other end of the door, before a large bang, and the door flew open.

Peering through the cracks of the doors, you saw him. You could see his shadow in the dimly lit room as he walked past your hiding spot and looked around. As he padded further into the room, you slid as far back as you could into the clothing, praying he wouldn’t know you were there. Through the thin slots of the closet door, you could see he was just standing there. Almost like he was thinking. Your eyes closed, and you silently hoped he would just go check somewhere else. That’s when you heard it.

"There you are."

Your eyes shot open. The door to the closet was pulled open, and he was staring directly into your soul. You quickly duck as he reaches out to grab you and somehow manage to make it to the other door. Just as your hand goes to turn the knob, a pair of hands reach around your waist, and you let out a scream you didn’t even know your voice was capable of creating. For a split second, you feel the wind around you, then the bed sheets violently connect with your back. You wished the mattress would just swallow you whole. Too afraid to look at the monster hovering above, you turn your face to the side. The creature finally speaks.

“Well, that took longer than expected. Had me thinking you’d actually make it out of here.”

“We had a deal.” There was nothing to hide how your voice trembled. The bed shook as he actually laughed.

“I don’t think you quite understood the rules of the game, honey. The rules were, if you managed to make it outside, I would let you go. But if you didn’t…” His hand finds its way around your throat and your shaking continues as he forces you to look at his face. The only thing catching your attention are the two abnormally sharp canines in his mouth. “Then you would stay here, with me.” He looks around the room and then back at you. “Last time I checked, you’re still in the house sweetheart.” He sees the tears running down your face and brushes them away with his other hand. “Don’t be so sad about it. Think of it this way. I try to be a man of my word. If you did find some magical way of making it outside, I would’ve let you go. No surprises, no tricks, nothing… but you didn’t. Do you know what that means?” His grip around your throat gets tighter and you feel a small amount of blood run as one of his claws scratches the side of your neck. He takes a deep inhale and groans. “That means we can have all the fun I had planned for you.”

Your eyes widen in fear and you want to move, but you can’t due to his grip around your throat. He turns your head to the side and you close your eyes. Not wanting to know what he’s going to do. Reaching down to your neck, he sticks his tongue out and licks up the bead of blood that gathered on your neck. Your entire body shakes. Moving his head, you can feel his fangs graze against your ear as he whispers. “Oh, the things I can show you, little one.”

“AND CUT!”

Thomas’ hand instantly leaves your throat and he takes your hands to pull you up so your back is against the headboard. “Are you alright? You were shaking really bad.” Not trusting your voice at the moment, you nod your head and laugh nervously. “Dude, you’re scary as fuck.” He laughs in response and wraps his arms around you in a hug. You do the same and the director, Oliver, comes over to the side of the bed visibly concerned. “Are you two okay?”

Looking over at Thomas, he gives you a smile and gives your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. You nod and smile. “Yeah, we’re good Oli.” He offers his hand and helps get the two of you out of the ridiculously large bed. As you straighten out your dress, Oliver speaks again. “I know we only did one take, but that was probably the best one we’ve gotten since filming started.” He turns and looks at you. “There was no point throughout the entire scene where I wasn’t genuinely scared for you. If the two of you keep this up, we might finish ahead of schedule.” The two of you thank him and walk over to his chair to watch the playback of the scene.

One of the assistants brings water for the two of you and you both thank her. Oliver plays the scene back from the beginning and instead of focusing on your own work, the second Thomas appears on the screen, and suddenly you feel the heat making its way through your body.

He looked really good.

And those fangs…

You could melt into the floor right about now. Oliver and Thomas are talking but you can’t manage to listen in on the conversation, let alone say anything. Your attention was on Thomas and how he managed to look attractive and terrifying at the same time. There were times when you swore the only reason he signed onto this film was because he liked being a bad guy. It was like he reveled in it, and he did it so well. Your eyes stay glued to the screen and you don’t notice Thomas watching how you respond to his presence.

You tossed your keys onto the counter of your hotel room, your shoes come off and you let yourself fall back on the bed. A loud sigh leaves your lips. There has never been a day that you wanted filming to end so badly. After a couple of seconds, you throw your phone on the charger and finally pull yourself up from the bed, grab your towel and clothes, and head for a much-needed shower. You quickly change and when the temperature is just right, you step in and immediately feel your shoulders relax.

As you wash your body off, you start to think to yourself, why were you so worked up today? After the first scene with Thomas, every slight brush of his hand against yours, or hand on your back sent a wave of heat throughout your body. Simple motions that are seemingly harmless in nature were reducing you to a trembling mess. Granted, you don't have a partner, so sexual frustration could definitely be the cause, but why now? You feel the heat spread to your core just at the thought. Shaking your head, you finish your shower and change into your shirt and underwear that you brought into the bathroom with you.

After drying your hair, the steam from your previous shower dissipates as you walk into the other room and you look around confused.

You could've sworn you kept the lights on.

Shaking your head, you cut on the soft light on your nightstand and reach for your phone.

Which was not on the charger where you left it.

Now you're starting to freak out.

Looking around the room, it seems like your phone is nowhere in sight. Almost like it disappeared. You check your bag, in case you didn't actually plug it in, but it's not there. Nothing in the clothes you wore that day, hell, you even checked your suitcase. Your phone is just gone. Going over to the hotel phone, you pick it up and try to dial your number, only to realize the phone cord is missing from the base. You stand there frustrated and a little scared for a couple of seconds before a voice snaps your head towards the front door.

"You didn't think I'd make it easy for you to call for help, did you?"

Slowly reaching for the heaviest thing closest to you, the shadow walks into the light and you let out a sigh of relief. "Jesus, Thomas. You can't sneak up on someone when they're fresh out of the shower!" Walking over to him, you ask. "So unless a crazed fan managed to break in, I'm assuming you have my phone?" He pulls something out of his pocket and you see the familiar case, indicating he did in fact, have it.

Flashing it in front of your face, you reach to grab your phone, but he leans away from you so you can't take it. "Yeah, I don't think you'll be needing it tonight." Giving him a "Really?" you go to get your phone and he pulls it away from your grasp once again. Letting out a frustrated huff, you put your hands on your hips. "Come on Thomas, give me my phone. I have to check my emails." You see him toss your device behind him, lucky that there was a couch sitting where it landed, and when he turns back to you, he speaks again. "Like I said. I don't think you'll be needing it tonight. After all, why would I make it easy for you to call for help?" Your eyebrows furrow, and you laugh, although slightly uncomfortable with how the air in the room seemed to shift. It felt, darker. Every bone in your body told you to leave. Turning around to look for a pair of pants, you mumble to yourself. "Alright, I did not plan on my night ending like this."

Turning around, you let out a scream and drop your sweatpants as a hand comes up and covers your mouth. He was standing so close you could feel his breath on your face. Looking Thomas in the eyes, they were dark, and you suddenly felt like you were no longer safe in his presence. "I don't think you quite understand the rules of the game honey." He stares into your eyes and the next thing you know, your feet are walking backward on their own until you are stopped by the edge of the bed. He remembers his hand is covering your mouth and speaks again. "The rules were, if you managed to make it outside, I would let you go. But if you didn’t…Then you would stay with me. Do you know what that means?” You struggle to get out a couple of muffled sounds when he brings his face closer to yours. “That means we can have all the fun I had planned for you.”

Your eyes widen as the lamp in the room shows his face fully, and that's when you see it.

He was in the outfit from the first scene you two filmed earlier that morning. You glance down at his mouth and you feel the heat pool at your legs.

He had the fangs in.

He leans his mouth down against your ear like he did earlier that day, and repeated the same line. “Oh, the things I can show you, little one.” Next thing you know you're being laid down on the bed, and the man you once knew as your friend was hovering over you. "What do you want with me?" Your voice was weak, and judging from the smile that never left his face, he was enjoying this. He was enjoying toying with you. He leans down and drags his tongue against your neck, earning a strained whine to leave your mouth. "I simply want what I've been waiting this whole time for…you. I've seen the way you look at me when you think nobody is watching. And it made me want to take you then and there, but no. I couldn't do it with so many people around. So, what better time than now? Your phone is off, the landline is disconnected, and as far as anybody coming to rescue you goes, they all think you're headed to sleep with the rest of the cast."

If there was any time to hate yourself for not wearing pants to bed, now was that time. Thomas moved your legs apart with his knee and ground his hips into you, showing you just how tight the bulge in his jeans had become. You let out a small gasp that he managed to catch, and he let out a smile. "Something tells me you're enjoying yourself more than I expected. I don't even think I'll have to compel you." His large hands lift up the bottom of your shirt, exposing your underwear, and you shiver as the cool night air exposes you in such an intimate place. He carefully pulls the thin fabric down and off your ankles with ease, and your body goes tense. He looks you in the eyes and asks the last question you thought could ever come out of his mouth.

"Do I have your permission honey?" You shift needily against the bed as you let out a small "Yes." That's the only approval he asks before his fingers gently reach down and feel the wetness between your folds and you sigh quietly. A groan leaves his lips. "Is all that for me baby? You like it when I touch you like this?" His slender fingers brush against your clit, sending a jolt of pleasure through you, making you unknowingly moan. "There we go. You're such a good girl for me." He does it again, and again until he's rubbing gentle circles on your clit at an agonizingly slow pace. Your body relaxes into the bed as Thomas continues whispering into your ear. "That's is baby. Relax. It's just you and me. I want you to enjoy this."

He was taking his time with you, and to an outsider looking in, it was almost sweet. Not long after, the fear left your brain and was replaced with nothing but bliss. He must've been able to tell when your last fighting bit of sanity faded because he became more eager. "There's so much I want to do with you, honey. I want to taste you until you cum on my tongue. Wanna feel you clench around my cock as I ravish you." His hand on your clit sped up a little. "I wanna see the look on your face when you come undone because of me. At first, I didn't think you could take it. But I know you can. I know you can take all of me. I know you can handle everything I give you because you're such a good girl, and I know you wanna be good for me. Right baby?" Your small whimpers have progressed to moans as you stop fighting the sensation and start to welcome it.

Out of nowhere, the feeling is gone as he removes his fingers from your clit, but quickly replaced them when he lays down and licks through your folds. Your breathing was fast and heavy as his tongue went to work. The sensation builds when he slips two fingers into you and easily starts pumping them in and out. You were almost there, and he could tell. He moaned against your clit and gently grazed it with his fangs, and that was all it took before you exploded. You threw your head back against the bed as you came, and Thomas latched onto your clit sucking on it to prolong your orgasm for as long as he could.

He finally pulls his fingers out of you and licks them clean before standing up and discarding his clothes in an almost superhuman nature, before he's back to hovering over you. His lips attach to yours and you eagerly kiss him back, tasting yourself on his tongue. "If you taste that good, I can only imagine what you feel like." Looking down at him, your eyes get wide.

He's not abnormally huge, but definitely bigger than any man you've been with to date. He rubs his cock between your folds and you moan at the overstimulation, still coming down from your high. He rests his hand on the back of your head and looks you in the eyes. "You're going to take all of me, yeah?" You can only nod as you no longer trust your voice. He leans down and captures your mouth in a kiss again as he slowly pushes inside you.

He releases your mouth to let out a moan, and by god… this was the moment you realized you were in over your head. Every time you thought he was fully in, he would slide in more, and more. He finally bottoms out and you swear you're seeing stars. No, fuck that. You were seeing galaxies. He only gives you a few moments to adjust to his size before he pulls himself almost all the way out, and sinks back in. Your eyes roll to the back of your head.

The pace was brutally slow but felt wonderful. You couldn't pay attention to anything but how he felt, and it felt ungodly. He finds his own rhythm within a few thrusts and it was like you died and went to wherever the hell you were currently. He brings his other hand from around your waist and slides it down to your leg, wrapping it around his waist and allowing him to sink in just a little deeper, and you cry out.

A smile forms on his lips and he keeps his hand on your leg, refusing to let you not feel the full extent of what this angle could provide. Noticing your hands are gripping your bedsheets, he moves his hand from behind your head and takes your own to grab at his body. He thrusts into you again, and again, over and over, the new angle allowing him to drag his cock against just the right spot that drove you wild. Leaning down to rest his forehead against yours, he pants out. "Fuck, baby. It's like this sweet pussy of yours was made for me."

You could feel your second orgasm building and lord help you because you were so close. Thomas seemed to notice as well, your walls practically trying to suck him in completely. He speeds up his pace ever so slightly and that's when you feel the pressure of his hand going around your neck. He leans down and talks into your ear. "I can feel you're close honey. God. I'm going to put a fucking baby in you. Would you like that? You want me to cum inside this gorgeous little cunt, huh?" You moan and try to nod as your nails scratch up and down his arms and back. "Yes, yes Thomas, please!" He laughs a little at how you answered him. "Aw, yeah? You're so cock drunk you're begging me to cum inside your pretty pussy?" He makes you look at him as your eyes keep closing. "Beg for it again, and maybe, if you're good for me, I'll let you cum."

Your voice is nothing but whimpers and whines as you plead with your eyes. A chorus of "Please." leaves your mouth and that satisfies him to the point where he is kissing and sucking on the side of your neck. "I want you to cum, and I want you to let everybody in this hotel know whose cock is making you feel this good. Can you do that for me?" You just nod as you feel your orgasm teetering on the edge. He applies more pressure against your throat, and that's all it takes. As your climax begins, he sinks his teeth into your neck, and you let out a struggling moan from the sensation as you cum. The only name on your lips is his over and over, like a broken record. Thomas moans against your neck and he starts to tense, holding you as close to him as possible. He seats himself as far into you as he can, and the warm feeling of his cock shooting his cum inside you only prolongs your orgasm.

After the two of you finally come down from your respective highs, he turns the two of you on your side and lies there. Giving you a chance to intake some form of oxygen. You pant out a weak "Oh my god." and you feel the rumble from his body as he laughs. "I told you, adding the fangs would be a great idea." It takes every ounce of energy in your body to raise your arm and playfully hit him. "Shut up, that was God tier even if you didn't have them in." He laughs again and as he agrees, you ask, "Where the hell did all that dirty talk come from?" Thomas shrugs his shoulders and smiles. "A master of his craft never reveals his secrets." Playfully rolling your eyes, a yawn escapes your mouth.

Thomas pulls out of you and you sigh sadly at the loss of contact, only for him to pull the blanket over you and get up off the bed to grab your phones. You watch as he plugs them both into the wall and climbs back into bed before cutting the light off. Cuddling into his chest, your legs intertwine and you both lay there in comfortable silence, until a thought pops into your head, making you laugh a little. "What's so funny?" You think about the situation and explain.

"Had I known it would've taken you stealing my phone from me to get you to put the fangs in, I would've let you take it a long time ago." The two of you laugh and he asks, "Is that your way of telling me you want Mr. Deville to peek his head back in the bedroom again?" He realizes that at some point, he's going to have to tell you that the fangs aren't fake. But that thought leaves his mind as he feels himself getting hard again at your answer "As far as I'm concerned, he can come back anytime he wants." Thomas lets out an "Oh really?" before flipping the two of you so he's sitting between your legs again. "Because I think he's still hungry." A moan leaves your lips as Thomas sinks his cock back into you, and you mentally prepare for the terrible time you're going to have to try and get up in the morning.

#the invitation #walter deville #walter deville x reader #thomas doherty #thomas doherty x reader #vampire #fanfiction #smut

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haee-elia · 7 months

Text

spence-tober: day 24 - tattoo artist

pairing: tattoo artist!spencer reid x fem!reader

summary: in which you come home to your husband and daughter

word count: 1186

warnings: you have a daughter, lots of kid stuff, mention of pregnancy and marriage and also you have a cat

spence-tober masterlist

Coming home from work used to be a dreaded part of the day for you, back when you were living alone in an empty apartment that didn’t feel like home. No roommate, no pet, no one to greet you or be happy when you walk through that door.

Coming home didn’t feel like that anymore. Not since you had started dating the love of your life.

It had forever changed. You worked longer days than your tattoo artist boyfriend, Spencer Reid, and so more often than not, Spencer was there to greet you when you walked in after a long day. Whether that was him fixing dinner in the kitchen or sitting in his beloved armchair doodling more tattoo ideas, you weren’t coming home to a lonely apartment.

Then one day, you didn’t just come home to Spencer, but to him holding a small gray and white emaciated kitten in his tatted up arms. He had found the kitten on his walk to work and had kept it near a heater in the shop all day long, finally bringing it back to your shared apartment when no one claimed it. Now, you came home to a little kitten pawing at your pant’s leg.

The kitten, named Walter after Spencer’s middle name, grew up, you and Spencer grew closer and soon got engaged and married. Now he was your tattoo artist husband and it wasn’t long after you got married that you both had decided to expand your family even more. It started with all three of you moving into a larger apartment and then trying to get pregnant. After a full year of trying, you fell pregnant and subsequently gave birth to your daughter, Luma.

Suddenly, you didn’t just come home to a cat meowing at you as you walked in the door or to your husband showing you a tattoo design, but a small child who would laugh joyfully as you ran to hoist her up into your arms.

However, today when you walked through the front door of your brownstone home, the only thing to greet you is Walter. You close the door behind you and hang your keys and coat up. Then you give a small cat treat to Walter to stop his incessant whines for attention.

A giggle echoes out from the hallway leading out of the combined kitchen and living room. You follow the sound, your work shoes clicking on the wooden floors, and are led to your daughter’s room.

“Hello?” You call out, being sure to knock on the door before entering.

You and Spencer were trying to teach your now five year old daughter privacy and were trying to instill knocking before entering.

“Mommy!” You hear a small, light voice call out. You open the door fully now and a smile grows on your face at the sight.

Luma has a matching bright smile on her face as she slips off her pretty purple canopy bed and rushes with her little legs towards you, hugging your legs once she gets to you.

“Hi, baby!” You greet her, removing her hands from your legs and bending down to properly hug your daughter.

She’s been sick for the better part of the week and was finally on the mend. Per the school instructions, you still needed to keep her at home for today and you and Spencer had been taking turns calling off from work to stay with her.

Today, Spencer stayed home with your daughter and you certainly could tell she was in better spirits than the days prior.

Judging by your husband who was in your daughter’s bed, which is much too small for his thin, tall frame, Spencer had been through a lot today. Not that he ever minded.

His hair was put up in small ponytails with thin plastic elastic bands and there were discarded towels on the floor which meant that they had a spa day. Spencer also had his arm propped palm side up on a pillow with his sleeve up as far as it could go.

“What are you doing, sweetheart?” You ask your daughter.

The both of you have learned to never assume the intentions behind your child’s actions.

“We’re playing!” She simply says, still snuggled into your arms. When she got sick, which wasn’t often, she got clingy. Much like your husband when he fell ill.

You look to Spencer for a more clear answer, “Tattoo shop.” He clarifies.

“Ah,” You say, still holding onto your daughter. When she was a baby, you would often take her to Spencer’s shop as a surprise and then as a toddler and now, it was one of her favorite places in the world.

A closer glance at the bed would allow you to see some doodled hearts and circles on your husband’s arm and some washable tattoo markers lying on her duvet.

You should have known, Luma’s favorite game was Tattoo Shop where she would doodle on your arms or legs. At first, you let her do it with crayola marker, but after that one time she found a sharpie, Spencer had gotten her some washable kid tattoo gel pens to use.

“Look at Daddy’s arms!” Luma said, taking her small hand in yours and tugging you closer to her bed. On your way, you shuck off your shoes clumsily.

“I see, baby, you did such a good job!” You praise her, smiling as you look up and down your husband’s decorated arms.

At first, Luma would just draw random doodles usually over Spencer’s already existing tattoos. But now, she would incorporate them and work around to make it look ‘cohesive’, a fairly new word she learned after watching Project Runway with the two of you at night.

You lean over your husband’s arm and give him a sweet kiss in greeting and then thumb over the skin on his wrist that holds your matching tattoos. Ones you got in honor of the birth of Luma. A small little lightbulb that sat on the inside of your wrist.

“How’s your day been?” Spencer asks you, propping himself up a little bit more on the bed.

Before you can answer, Luma joins you in her bed and gently pushes down at her dad.

“Be careful! Don’t move.” She tells him. Spencer nods and settles back into the bed as you hold back a chuckle.

“It was good,” You answer, “Glad to come home to you two!” You tickle Luma a little bit and laugh with her giggles.

“I hadn’t gotten the chance to start dinner yet.” Spencer informs you, he nods to his arm which he is not allowed to move.

“That’s okay,” You say, then turning to your daughter, “How about we order pizza?” You ask her.

She cheers and all of you laugh in the room. “I’ll place the order in a little bit.” You say, settling yourself back into the bed a bit more.

You take your hand and pull up the sleeve of your long sleeve shirt and show the clean slate to Luma.

“Now, do you have time for another appointment?”

a/n: this was super fun and quick to write! i've been writing half of it during the day and then half at night, but i finished this super quick since i already knew the ending and so i don't have to stay up late tonight! woohoo!

#criminal minds #criminalminds #spencer reid #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fluff #dr. spencer reid #criminal minds fic #spencer reid au #spencer reid fanfic

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angryschnauzer · 1 year

Text

As Sweet As Honey - Chapter 6

Summary: Finding a new life in a new town, you stumble upon a Honey farmer at the town market. You both have pasts that have shaped the way you now live your lives, but can you find a way of putting them behind you to find happiness?

Pairing: ‘Lucas’ Syverson x Female Reader

Fandom: Henry Cavill, Sandcastle (Movie).

Ongoing Genre: Fluff, Angst, and Smut

Story Warnings: Slight Angst, Talk of a car accident in the past, Anxious Sy, Mild Embarrassment, First Date Nerves, Kissing, NSFW, 18+, Smut, Fingering, Grinding, Hot Tub Frolics, Handjob, Titty Sucking, Nudity.

Chapter 6 Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Smut, Fingering, Oral Sex (Female Receiving), Angst, talk of abusive past relationship

Wordcount: 2222

Here is my masterlist and AO3

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5,

I do not run a tag list, instead please follow @angryschnauzerwrites and put that blog onto notifications, you’ll then get an alert each time i post something new. My AO3 also has my entire back catalogue of stories (going back to 2013).

As Sweet As Honey - Chapter 6

Sy had a spring in his step as he returned to his truck, the box from Antonios tucked under his arm and he was thankful he’d left Akia at home for this trip as she would be happy snuffling around in the yard on the long tether he’d installed. He made sure the box was carefully wedged into the passenger side footwell before circling the truck and climbing in, whistling a happy tune as he started the truck and backed out of the space. He was in his own little world and didn’t see his cousin Walter wave to him or hear him call out his name.

The drive to your place was fairly short, and as he waited at stop signs and went in turn he mulled over in his head all the things he was going to tell you and share the good news. When he finally reached your house he pulled onto the driveway and smiled when he saw you in the garden, hanging laundry on the line so it billowed in the breeze, that same breeze making the hem of your summer dress flip and dance, revealing your soft thighs and the curve of your ass. He didn’t even realise he’d done it but you heard the low growl of appreciation he’d let out as he stood near your porch.

“Sy!” you called, abandoning the remaining laundry in the hamper and running across the lawn to him. He wrapped his free arm around your waist and pulled you to him, holding the box out of the way as you kissed. When you finally pulled apart you rested your hands on his chest;

“To what do I owe this honour of a surprise visit?”

“Just been to Antonios” he said with a grin, lifting the box a little.

“Oh this sounds like good news… what’s in the box?”

Sy smirked;

“Something juicy and round i have to pour my honey over and sprinkle with nuts”

Raising your eyebrows you pretended to be curious whilst trying not to giggle, instead you let out a small shriek as Sy wrapped an arm around you, cupping your ass before hoisting you up onto his hip and you wrapped your legs around his waist; “I’ll show you inside”

In the cool shade of the cottage he set you down on the old wooden surface of your kitchen table, his arm never leaving your back as he stood between your legs. That arm slid up your back and to the back of your neck, curling in your hair as he gently pulled your head back so he could kiss you. At some point he must have set the box down as you felt his other hand cup your cheek, before his fingertips softly brushed over the top of your chest, and he all out grabbed a handful, grunting into your mouth. Breaking the kiss you pressed your forehead to his;

“I so want your mouth on me but i also want to know what happened at Antonio’s”

Sy smirked;

“I guess i could get you started with my fingers”

With a low growl he pushed your legs further apart, his big hand sliding beneath the skirt of your dress and cupping your pussy in his palm;

“Already so warm and wet for me” he muttered as he pulled the soft cotton to one side and his thick fingers tenderly dragged through your folds; “The meeting was incredible… the main man himself agreed that i have a by far superior product”

“I can vouch for that” you interrupted, grinning as you confidently cupped Sy through his jeans, enjoying the feet of his hardness growing beneath the denim.

“As i was saying…” he cut in as he slid two thick fingers into you; “With the onset of summer and customers wanting lighter flavours, he’s placed a standing order for twelve jars weekly for the next three months, to be reviewed at that point”

“That’s amazing!”

“Which part?” he grinned; “The honey order or what I'm doing to your honey pot?” crooking his fingers just right as he found that spot deep inside that made you see stars.

“Both! BOTH!”

“That’s my good girl,” Sy muttered.

Just as you were about to cum he pulled his fingers away, you were about to complain but were cut off as you watched him get to his knees in front of you. Those ice blue eyes stared up at you when he reached both hands under your skirt to push it up, before pulling your panties down. Leaning back on the table you lifted your ass so he could get them off, his strong hands holding your thighs open as he gratuitously stared your pussy.

“Such a beautiful peach” he praised before pushing closer, his wide tongue licking a firm stripe through your petals. He grunted at your taste hit his tongue and you watched as his eyes fluttered shut as if it was the sweetest nectar he’d ever tasted. His tongue worked magic against your clit, pulling you rapidly to the edge of an orgasm, before he pulled away;

“Hey!” you went to protest before you realised he was quickly pulling his t-shirt over his head, tossing it aside before he wrapped his strong arms around your thighs and pulled you closer to the edge of the table. He dived right back in, this new position having you spread wider as he could control the angle of your thighs, this time his tongue was pushing into your velvet channel as he curled one hand around the top of your thigh to rub firm circles against your clit. He was like a man starved; his mouth never leaving you and for a second you wondered if he would need to come up for air, but as the pleasure built in your body your mind went blank and you forgot of Sy’s need for oxygen.

Your hands reached for something to grip onto, your fingertips sliding on the wood of the table before you reached down and ran your fingers through Sy’s short cropped hair, silky to touch and just long enough to curl and hold onto. His grip on your thighs got tighter as he could feel your orgasm approaching, never relenting with his ministrations until you came with a cry, your legs shaking as they tightened around his head.

“Oh Sy…Sy…” you praised, laying on the kitchen table as he pressed tender kisses to your inner thighs. As your mouth was currently disconnected from your mind you kept whispering his name, until your brain connected with its auditory sensors and realised you could hear a light tapping on the glass window of the old door to the back yard; “Sy…” your mind caught up with what you were seeing; “Walter…”

Sy stopped and immediately popped his head up;

“Walter? What the…?”

You suddenly realised the Sheriff was standing at the door, a shocked look on his face as he saw you and his cousin in the positions you were. Your brain caught up and you hastily pushed your dress down as you squeaked and pointed at the door, Sy looking to the door and his face darkened; “What the fuck does he want?” he grumbled as he pulled himself to his feet and crossed the room in three strides, yanking the door open;

“Walt…”

The burly Sheriff held his hands up, the file he was holding hitting the door;

“Sy, i’m sorry. But this is important”

Sy nodded and went to step outside;

“Okay, we can talk in the yard”

But Walter didn’t move, instead he gripped the file with both hands and looked to you;

“Sy it’s not you i’m here to speak to”

A shiver ran down your spine as you saw the name on the file. With as much grace as you could muster you hopped off the table and tidied your skirt;

“Sheriff… Walter, please could you wait in the living room, i’ll be with you in a moment”

He nodded, waited for Sy to step aside before he quickly crossed the room and disappeared from view. Sy quickly came back to you, scooping his t-shirt from the floor;

“Is everything OK?”

You hadn’t realised you were hugging yourself, chewing nervously on your lip;

“I don’t know. It may be about the restraining order, that was the file he was holding”

Sy paused and blinked a few times before he shook his head as if trying to get his mind around something he hadn’t all the information for;

“Do I need to go?”

Shaking your head you pressed your hand to his chest, the skin warm to touch and a comfort;

“No, please stay. You deserve to know about my past”

With a sigh he nodded, turning his crumpled t-shirt in his hands before discovering the soft pink of your underwear, holding them out to you;

“Think these are yours” he said with a small smile.

It was tough but you matched his smile, and as the two of you silently redressed, your stomach flipped as it tightened with nerves. You didn’t want to leave what seemed like the comfort of your kitchen, but Walter had promised if he ever got an alert you’d be the first to know.

You sat on your couch, the photo gripped between your fingers. The still shot from a traffic cam at the state border on Interstate 94 was clear as day. Your blood ran cold.

“All deputies have been put on alert to look out for his car” Walter said quietly; “He told his parole officer he was heading to San Francisco when he had his final meeting a couple of weeks ago. I set the alert up at the borders and this is when he crossed from North Dakota into Montana. We’re all the way over the other side of the state, he could still just be taking this route coast to coast. I’ve reached out to the Butte City Police just for any alerts when he passes through to see if he heads south from there”

Walter’s words were not reassuring. You hadn’t realised you’d been nervously tapping your foot on the floor until Sy softly put his hand on your knee;

“Whatever you need Honey, i’m here” he paused; “But it would help if i knew what we were dealing with”

You took a deep breath. You were nervous, no, you were scared out of your mind to tell Sy, but he deserved to know. Nodding, you held the photo out;

“This is James. My… husband”

“Your… what?” Sy asked, cocking his head to one side, his lips pressed into a thin line.

“Ex-husband” Walter added; “The Massachusetts courts granted the divorce without him present”

You nodded, turning to Sy and lifting your gaze to his. You could feel tears threatening to spill as you gathered the courage to speak;

“I…” you tried to continue but your words disappeared into a gurgle as tears started to flow, the memories too painful. You needed to get out of the room, to clear your mind. Standing you ran for the door, letting it slam shut behind you.

Sy looked from the door to Walter and back again;

“Could you please tell me what’s going on?”

Walter stood, pulling out his phone;

“I need to call her emergency contact”

He stood at the window as he started to make a call, handing Sy the file.

As Sy opened the battered brown folder his heart sank as he started to read the details. Page after page of background information, photographs of injuries, reports from First Responders and the ER Department. The final pages were details of the restraining order, of the change of last name for identity protection, and that her emergency contact was Tamara the veterinarian that Sy took Akia to for shots and flea treatments. Setting the file back down onto the coffee table he looked up at Walter who was standing silently by the window having finished his call;

“She’s standing out by the Lavender, looking out at the meadow… I’ve called Tamara, she’s on her way”

“I’m going out to see her”

“What are you going to say?”

Sy paused at the doorway;

“I don’t know. But i’m going to show her that i’m here for her”

The wind played over the long grasses in the meadow as you watched the dark clouds on the horizon building, a spring storm brewing to ruin the run of good weather. Heavy footsteps on the lawn brought your attention to the present, before you felt a pair of strong arms softly wrap around you, gently pulling you to rest your back on a firm chest. A bearded kiss pressed to the side of your head and Sy’s voice was quiet;

“Whatever you need, i’m here for you”

Turning you nodded, pressing your face into his chest, inhaling the scent of his aftershave and laundry detergent. You heard the tell tale squeal of Tamara’s car as it roared over the slight hill from town, the grinding of gravel as she pulled up abruptly at your cottage. Turning to Sy, you spoke with a quiet tone;

“Can I stay with you tonight?”

He nodded, pressing a kiss to your forehead;

“Of course you can”

Chapter 7 >>>

#as sweet as honey #sy x reader #captain syverson #syverson #henry cavill

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bug66 · 2 months

Text

Handler Walter voice : 621 I need you to kill the scariest thing you’ve seen in your fucking life again👍

Also some of my Raven design notes under the cut for anyone curious

For 621

I liked the idea of long hair coming from being in storage for a long time, with him just never getting around to cutting it. Maybe for LoR ending he ends up cutting it short because I like the symbolism.

His flight suit is covered in little warning tags- I had it on one of my Lancer characters and I liked the design detail a lot. I like how it’s like the trope of covering something cursed in ofuda- implicit warnings to stay away from 621 due to being dangerous. Also just a lot of straps and things to keep with the theme of being bound.

Flight suit collar has a metal ring with a dog tag on it :^)

I think I gave all the old gens flat, red eyes but it started as a choice with 621. I like the idea that because of his Contact with Ayre they’re even more luminous. I also liked the idea that Ayre is physically residing the coral in 621’s augments during Contact (maybe she’s able to cast her conscience through coral?)

I draw him as trans masc bc I do what I want!! I’ll make him masc with long hair, and without top surgery, because no one can stop me >:)

#ac6 #armored core #armored core vi #armored core 6 #my work #ac6 raven #c4 621 #digital art #I paint de picture finally #my art

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littlefreya · 2 years

Note

Horniest song to fuck Henry's characters too!

Okay... let's do this.

Headsup, I give no permission to reuse my content, copy, repost, translate, etc. 🖤

Characters included: August Walker, Captain Syverson, Sherlock Holmes, Mike, Geralt, Walter Marshall.

Warnings: 18+, Smut, sex.

August fucks you to Angel by Massive Attack... meaning: buckle up, sweetheart, because it's going to be slow, sensual and rough. First, he blindfolds you, wrapping a silken black scarf around your eyes, then goes your wrists and ankles, spread eagle on his bed.

He takes his time with you, his strong hands coursing through your naked body, touching you everywhere but the spots where you really want him to. He wants to see you writhe, needs to hear you cry and beg for him to fuck you and only then.. he might put something inside you.

More characters below the cut 🍄

Ideally, you should be fucking to romantic country music, maybe a bit of Creedence Clearwater Revival, but something got into you, and you want it wild. You want to fuck him like an animal, want to feel him from the inside.

Nine Inch Nails - Closer booms through the radio as you shove Sy against his own truck and unbuckle his belt. You nibble his ear while your hand grip his big fat cock and as you jump his hips and slip him inside your wet cavern, you whine, "you get me closer to god".

(read more Sy and NIN in Feral Collision)

Walter's emotional spectrum ranges from being completely quiet to pissed AF. But don't be confused by his death stares. He definitely has a romantic side.

Black candles burn in his bedroom as he fucks you gentle-rough to Love you to Death by Type O Negative.

But... if he ever has a bad day, you are getting your ass pumped to Walk by Pantera.

He is frivolously in love with you, but then again, he is also incredibly horny, so excuse him for thinking about sex all day long and for fucking you in the back of his care to A.D.I.D.A.S by Korn playing in the background.

Clair de Lune is quite romantic, isn't it? You love playing it loudly while you walk through his forlorn mansion, wearing nothing but a sheer robe.

After he fired the entire household crew, the house sank into decadence, but there is some beauty in destruction and there is definitely something enticing in seeing the half-maddened detective as he plays pool all with himself.

You linger at the door of his study, letting your breasts peek through the open robe to catch his attention, and next thing you know, you are flat on your back upon the pool table, being fucked and bred to tears. (more Sherlock pool table stuff here)

You hate Geralt, and he hates you, but that never stops you two from fucking like two angry beasts in the back of the tavern.

Up against the wall, he hikes up your skirts and enters you rough and raw, each thrust causing the wooden walls to shudder. He has no restraint; he doesn't care if it hurts but neither do you.

You mutter curses and pull each others' hair while Jaskier is playing Burn Butcher Burn from the other room...

#henry cavill #august walker #sherlock holmes #captain syverson #hellraiser mike #henry cavill x reader #august walker x reader #walter marshall #walter marshall x reader #sherlock holmes x reader #Geralt of Rivia #geralt x reader

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myeuphoricmindset · 9 months

Text

Haunted by you | Eddie Munson

Summary | Eddie Munson's ghost is haunting the house recently occupied by Daisy Morgan. Having been deceased for years, Eddie becomes visible only to her. As she adjusts to sharing her living space with an otherworldly presence, their relationship develops into a compelling yet forbidden romance between the living and the dead. But, how could that ever truly work?

Pairing | Eddie Munson x OC

Warnings/Tags | 18+ only, Strained parent relationships with significant focus on maternal issues, Themes of feeling unwanted and abandoned are central, Cheating -though not involving Eddie Munson or the main character, alcohol and drug use, Profanity, Sexual content, and Mental health themes.

Fic Notes | This fic is set after the events of Stranger Things season 4. Seven years have passed, and everyone has moved forward since the defeat of Vecna and the closure of The Upside Down. This story won't revolve around Vecna or The Upside Down. While there might be occasional appearances by other Stranger Things characters, the narrative centers on normal life, void of supernatural plots except for Eddie's ghostly presence.

I don't have a fixed posting schedule, but I'll aim for weekly updates. I might post more frequently, but I'm keeping the dates flexible for my mental well-being. Rest assured, I won't leave this fic unfinished.

Word count | 4k

Read on ao3

August 1993

Embedded within our very DNA is the innate longing for maternal love and acceptance. When that love is withheld over time, our minds adapt, convincing us that we can do without it. However, a persistent yearning for that inherent love remains, a constant reminder of the void that's meant to be filled.

Even in death, Daisy’s mother couldn't find it within herself to love her daughter. Grace’s final moments weren't filled with apologies or declarations of affection for Daisy; instead, there was only a will assigning property to her.

With a chuckle, Daisy twirls the keys around her finger, amused by Grace's belief that a house could mend the chasm in her heart. It’s a testament to how detached she was from what love between a mother and child should be.

For the past six months, Daisy has been stuck in limbo, her presence tethered to this seemingly senseless house following her mother’s passing. Today, at long last, she clasps the keys in her hand—a significant stride towards ending this dreadful chapter of her life. Whether driven by resentment or anger, Daisy raises her middle finger to the sky, smiling with satisfaction as she bids farewell to Grace.

In the parking lot, a few passersby cast concerned glances her way as Daisy releases a breath. It's not just any breath; it's a sigh that unburdens her from a lifetime of pain. The ache will persist, but it no longer shackles her to Grace; now, her mother can only haunt her dreams. And she will take that as a win.

A huge smile is plastered on her face as she walks to her car and calls her realtor. The line rings twice before she hears his eager voice on the other end.

"Hello, Ms. Morgan."

"Walter, it's all set. You can move forward with putting up the for-sale sign. I'll send over the necessary paperwork soon. ” Daisy says.

"Absolutely, ma'am. Sounds great.”

“Oh, I’ve also turned on the electricity under my name while we work on getting it sold.”

“Wonderful. I'll arrange an open house for next weekend."

This house holds no appeal for her; it seems Grace hoped to tether herself to Daisy through the property. The faster it’s sold then the faster she can move on with her life.

"Thank you, and please, call me Daisy."

"Certainly," he replies apologetically.

She gives him a kind smile, almost as if he could perceive it through the phone, and says goodbye.

Music blares as Daisy speeds out of the lawyer's parking lot. Her sunglasses shield her eyes from the summer sun, her brown hair wiping in the wind, and her engagement ring glimmers brilliantly as her hand tightens on the steering wheel.

Things are finally looking up.

She planned to stop by the bridal store and try on her dress for the last fitting, but she could do that tomorrow. She just wants to relax at home with Nick and watch Pretty Woman. Maybe even recreate the bath scene, singing Prince while drowning in bubbles. That’s a perfect night.

The apartment's lights are on even though her fiancé isn't due back until seven.

"Nick?" Daisy's voice echoes through the apartment as she opens the fridge, her mind set on preparing dinner. A craving for pasta, rigatoni specifically, with grilled chicken, mushrooms, and onions fills her thoughts, her stomach voicing its approval with a rumble. Unfortunately, they are completely out of chicken and pasta. Wonderful, just wonderful.

Luckily, their apartment lies within walking distance of one of Nick's favorite Chinese restaurants. The prospect of takeout lifts Daisy's spirits as she heads to their bedroom to ask Nick if he wants his usual Kung Pao chicken.

The sound of the shower greets her before she enters the room.

"Nic—" Her words halt as her gaze falls upon the disheveled bed.

What in the world? The comforter hangs askew and pillows litter the floor in disarray. It’s an absolute mess and she could have sworn she made the bed this morning like she always does.

Before she can call Nick's name once more, noises emanate from the bathroom. Daisy cautiously pushes the bathroom door open. The sight before her is surreal: Nick and his coworker Mia are in the shower together. His hand rests on her thigh, the same hand that's wiped away Daisy's tears. His lips pressed against her neck, the same lips that proposed to Daisy. Mia's moans fill the air, reminiscent of the sounds Daisy herself has made. Her mouth goes sour at the sight.

Daisy remains rooted in place as if observing the scene from outside her body.

This can’t be happening.

Time slows as Nick becomes aware of her presence, the shower door flinging open, Mia futilely reaching for a towel, and Daisy retreating.

Nick's voice calls after her as she assembles a small bag. She can't answer, gripped by a numbing shock. The room's movements feel surreal, and Daisy navigates it like a phantom, a silent specter swallowed by her own detachment.

Pushing the front door open, the summer air snaps her back to reality as she approaches her car. Nick's voice recedes as she leaves him standing, towel wrapped around his waist and their shared future at his feet, symbolized by a single apartment key.

“Daisy!”

Betrayal is no stranger to Daisy, but it doesn't blunt the pain of misplaced trust. A sense of foolishness washes over her, as Nick held the secrets of her past, her vulnerabilities, her fears. Tonight he reinforced her sense of being an unwanted burden.

It’s too much to bear. She has to get the hell out of here.

Hawkins lies eighty miles from Indianapolis. Unintentionally, Daisy found herself heading north on Interstate 65, steering aimlessly while her thoughts were lost on autopilot. At some point during the drive, Daisy stopped for gas and picked up McDonald’s despite lacking any appetite. She mechanically consumed it, then pulled over on the highway only to throw it all up. All of this occurred while she was in a haze, unable to recall the process. She moved through these actions like a mere shell of herself. Reaching a new city without a memory of the journey ignited a surge of panic within her.

Daisy wasn’t just in Hawkins, Indiana; she found herself parked outside her mother’s house, now her very own. Mixed emotions surged within her as her hands tightened around the steering wheel, her focus unwavering on the imposing iron gate adorned with the “Morgan” insignia.

She will never admit that she'd memorized the route to her mother's house. A house she never intended to visit. It was always decided after the accident that she would never contact Grace again, but it gave Daisy a sense of control knowing where her mother was and not doing a damn thing about it.

Until now.

She would have driven to Sloan's place, relying on her childhood best friend's kindness to give her a place to stay while she figured out what to do next. Sloan had always been there, a constant pillar of support. But, tonight was not the night to ask for support. Sloan happened to be attending a significant work event with her girlfriend, Robin at her side. Months ahead of time, she had planned a stay at a luxurious hotel for this very evening. Even on a subconscious level, Daisy understood that intruding upon their special night wasn’t an option, even when her own life was unraveling at the seams.

Left with no other options, Daisy finds herself in an unexpected predicament—having to accept help from her mother, the last thing she ever wanted. Daisy understands her mother's presumed satisfaction in the afterlife, and it's a painful realization. Even though the house was hers, the idea of depending on Grace’s help for her own well-being bothered her, making her upset. She was meant to sell the home and ever step foot on the property.

It felt like her mother had won, even though the game ended when Grace died. But Daisy reminded herself that the stay isn't indefinite; it's just a temporary solution until she figures out her next step.

Her hand trembles as she inputs 0527 on the keypad. Time seems to freeze for a moment, and Daisy holds her breath. The tension snaps as the gate loudly creaks open, breaking the silence.

The driveway stretches, winding its way around towering trees and clusters of flowering bushes. Daisy remembers the land from before the house was built—a trailer park with families that got wiped out by a natural disaster in ‘86. Grace saw the chance, bought the land, and replaced the trailers with a mansion. The families from the Forest Hills were paid to leave, a deal they took because their homes were falling apart. They didn't have many options and didn't want to end up homeless. Most of them did not have insurance to take care of their homes and Grace paid more than they could ever offer.

One person with too much money took over a place that used to be home to many families. Instead of helping them rebuild, Grace paid them to go away. Daisy wonders about those families and the kids who used to play here; their laughter once echoed between the trees and now it’s silent. Hopefully, they managed to reconstruct their lives using the resources she provided.

As the sun set, its light bathed the house, creating a gentle radiance along its edges. The home stands on a grand scale, boasting windows that envelop both the lower and upper levels. Despite only being built seven years ago, Grace held a deep appreciation for history and it shows in the architecture. The Victorian-style home was crafted in a manner that exudes the aura of centuries past.

The focal point, the entryway, is crowned with two grand wooden front doors, standing tall and imposing, their well-worn elegance inviting all who visit. Ironically, Daisy can only assume that visitors to the house were few and far between during Grace's time.

Effortlessly, the key slipped into the lock, and upon entering, Daisy’s bag dropped onto the wooden floors, the sound reverberating through the expansive, vacant house.

"Hello?" Daisy's voice echoed through the space, although she knew well that no one would answer.

Still, she waited for a reply that never came—only the structural creaks and the soft hum of air circulating through the vents persisted. It was eerie, but at least she was not on the streets and the house itself was undeniably beautiful and fully furnished. Daisy had to admit that Grace possessed a talent for home decor. An artist at heart, Grace's creative vision shone through, not just in her painted canvases but also in the ambiance of her house.

Daisy admired the exquisite crown moldings that decorate the ceilings, intricate panels adorn the walls, and ornate chandeliers cast a warm, gentle glow. It was inviting even if she didn’t feel welcome.

Stained glass windows, with their kaleidoscope of hues, scatter fragments of sunset light. The grand staircase, an artful masterpiece that anchors the foyer, leads to the upper floor, its handcrafted banisters a tangible testament to the commitment to the minutiae.

All of it was stunning. It’s hard to believe that Grace was living in this while Daisy endured nights on a couch, lacking a proper bedroom, in a family that seemed indifferent to her presence.

She debated unpacking her bag but was overwhelmed by the day's events. She wanted to take the edge off, to forget. She figured Grace might have left some wine in the kitchen. Grace was rarely without alcohol nearby.

The kitchen was pristine. The house staff, paid ahead of time, had maintained the house and yard even after her death. They hoped to impress a new owner. Daisy wondered what they'd think when they saw the for sale sign at the end of the weekend. She couldn't worry about that now; it might push her over the edge with all that’s on her mind.

Daisy tossed half-empty wine bottles into the trash and found a corked bottle on the rack. She wiped the dust off a Pinot Noir named Goldeneye.

Never heard of it, but it’ll do.

“Aha,” Daisy muttered with satisfaction as the cork popped.

Holding the bottle, she walked to the living room. Taking a hefty sip, she hoped the wine would numb her. The smoky black cherry flavor lingered on her tongue. The house was quiet. Daisy kicked off her shoes, drank some more, and collapsed onto the couch.

"Fuck," Daisy muttered, looking around at her situation. Emotions surged, and she used the wine to drown them.

“Fuck!” She shouts into the emptiness, fighting tears.

Amidst denial and disbelief, laughter bubbled up, an unexpected reaction to her turmoil. Could this really be happening? Maybe it was a terrible nightmare, and she'd wake up soon. She gulped down more wine, trying to steady herself. She pinched her arm, in a desperate attempt to wake up, but the pain was real. She choked back a sob with alcohol.

No, Daisy told herself, forcing herself off the couch. Sulking wasn't the solution. What did she need now? Besides wine, music. Daisy searches the living room and it doesn’t take long for her eyes to spot the record player sitting pretty on the oak table behind the couch. The vinyls are displayed perfectly on a shelf. Daisy’s fingers brush the stack until she comes across Tell Mama by Etta James.

With steady hands, Daisy placed the needle down in the record, and the resulting music gently cradled her frayed nerves. She’s thankful she paid to have the electricity turned on or she would have been sitting in the dark.

For the first time in hours, a smile graced her lips as she raised the half-empty bottle, playfully spinning around the room.

“Sing it, Etta,”

The house came alive with echoes of the music. It felt different, there was a shift in the air.

But a sudden whiff of smoke caught her attention, and she slowed down. She frowned, puzzled.

Was that the smell of cigarettes?

It couldn't be. Chalking it up to the wine's effect, Daisy walked to the window and opened it, welcoming a draft of fresh air. She was beginning to feel hot and that was a sign that she’s had too much too quickly.

Examining the bottle in her hand, she was met with a shocking sight that widened her eyes—within its brown-tinted glass, a man leaned against the wall, arms crossed, an amused smirk playing on his lips.

The sight paralyzed her momentarily, her scream of terror overpowering the music before the bottle crashed to the floor.

Dizziness engulfs the room, and she clings to the couch for stability. Her gaze shifts to the spilled wine staining the wooden floor, and then swiftly looks up to find the man.

But, he's gone.

"Who's there?!" Daisy's voice trembles as she retreats toward the kitchen, tripping over her own feet in her haste.

The music persists, accompanied by the lingering scent of smoke. Daisy snatches the phone off the hook, her fingers fumbling with the buttons as she struggles to dial 911.

"Get out now! I'm calling the police!" Daisy's voice wavers as she shouts, her unease palpable.

As she waits for the line to ring, Daisy stretches the phone cord to its limit as she reaches for a kitchen knife.

There is no ringing. The line is dead.

Daisy's heart sinks, and her face slumps as she presses the numbers again in frustration.

No. She forgot to set up a new landline under her name.

“No!” Daisy's exclamation filled the room.

A voice emerged from behind Daisy, “You can see me?”

Daisy spun around, stumbling backward. The same man stood over her with a confused look—a figure both captivating and haunting.

He was taller than Daisy, lean and lanky in build. His dark, tousled curly hair framed his face, the locks falling gracefully over his forehead and partially obscuring his eyes. Those deep brown eyes gazed down at Daisy with curiosity.

“Get back!” Her knife trembled as it rose toward him. “Get out of my house!”

His lips curled up as he leaned down, his face mere inches from the knife's tip. His gaze shifted from the knife to Daisy's widened eyes.

“You’re in my house, sweetheart.”

Without hesitation, Daisy thrust the knife into his neck.

A gasp escapes her lips as she realizes what she had just done.

But there is no blood, no cry of pain from him. The knife left no mark.

The man straightened, appearing unaffected and unperturbed. His fingers brush over his neck, and he examined them. A laugh erupted from him as he confirmed his lack of harm. The sound of his laughter startles Daisy. She struggles to comprehend how the knife had passed through him as if he were air.

“Impressive, but you have to try harder than that,” He remarked.

Daisy recoiled, her veins flooded with an icy rush, as he moved through her and vanished.

Through her... he had walked through her as if he were the wind rustling the leaves in the trees.

What the actual fuck is going on?

Gasping for air, Daisy struggles to catch her breath, her attempt to regain composure falling short. Her chest feels constricted, as though it might collapse under the weight of her racing heart, while her head continues to spin with disorientation.

This is it. She’s going to die.

In the same house as Grace? Hell no. The thought of that alone has Daisy scrambling to her feet.

Her eyes dart around, and he is nowhere to be found. A surge of adrenaline has her running to the front door. There is a phone in her car. She just needs to make it there and call 911. I’ve got this, she thought.

Daisy didn’t turn around once she made it out the door. She’s seen too many scary movies and they never survive when they slow down to check their back.

She closes the car door with a strong thud, locking it forcefully. Her phone is in the glove compartment, rarely used. It’s a new addition, and she isn't entirely used to having a phone on the go.

With shaky fingers, she dials 911. The operator's voice on the other end is a lifeline, reassuring and guiding her. The calm instructions provided a semblance of order amidst the panic that threatened to engulf her.

Dispatch is en route to her location and that helped Daisy breathe a little easier. Following the operator's directions, Daisy remained in the safety of her car.

She settled into the driver's seat, eyes scanning the surroundings for any sign of the intruder who had shattered her sense of security while she waited for the police to arrive. The absence of the man did little to quell her unease; if anything, the tension remained palpable, coiled within her like a tightly wound spring.

Time seemed to stretch as she waited, every passing second laden with apprehension.

The flashing lights of the approaching police vehicles pierced the darkness, casting an eerie glow on the scene. Relief mingled with lingering fear as Daisy watched the law enforcement officers spring into action. Even though the immediate threat might have dissipated, the aftershocks of the intrusion still reverberated through her, leaving her on edge.

As the officers began their investigation, Daisy recounted the harrowing encounter, her voice shaky but resolute. She cooperated with their questioning, hoping that their presence would help dispel the lingering shadows that had taken hold of her mind.

However, the man who had broken into her home remained elusive. Even though the immediate danger had passed, Daisy couldn't shake off the feeling that she was being watched, which kept her on edge.

As the investigation reached its conclusion, Daisy's version of events started to unravel. No signs of forced entry, no trace of an intruder—her story seemed to be falling apart.

Doubt crept in, exacerbated by the officers' questioning of her sobriety due to the spilled wine and the discarded bottles. Frustration surged within her. They didn’t believe her. Of course they didn’t.

Internally, Daisy wrestled with the wild scenarios her mind had conjured in the heat of panic, like the memory of stabbing the man who simply walked away unharmed and how he disappeared in thin air. She kept these details to herself, focusing on the central truth: she had indeed seen a man, an intruder.

“Perhaps the alcohol took its toll and played tricks on your perception. We've all been there before, Ma’am. It's understandable,” the officer offered, his tone laced with a well-intentioned reassurance.

“No, that's not what happened!” Daisy's frustration surged forth. Her voice held a mixture of anger and determination. “I had maybe half a bottle. I’m not intoxicated. I saw a man, and he was in my house.”

A glance exchanged between the officers told Daisy all that she needed to know, and now her patience is wearing thin.

This day had tested her resilience. Her emotions teetered on the edge of tears, a precipice she was desperate to avoid.

Hold it together, Daisy. Tears will only add to their assumption that you’re insane.

“We're here to help, Ms. Morgan. Let us accompany you inside,” The officer suggested kindly. “It's getting late and about to rain.”

Walking back inside, Daisy's thoughts were a whirlwind of disbelief and vulnerability. As she stepped in, the house no longer felt safe. The officers' presence was comforting, yet it couldn't hide the truth: Her space had been invaded, not just by a stranger but also by doubts that made her question her reality.

“We've checked your home thoroughly. There is no one here. I can promise you that. Now, If you come across anything else suspicious or unusual then give me a call. Here is my card.”

The officer hands over the card, offering well wishes for the evening, then heads towards their car and drives away.

Daisy lingers in the doorway as rain begins to fall. She wonders if she’s losing her sanity—could she have imagined everything? Doubt sneaks into her thoughts like an unwelcome intruder, picking at her beliefs. Yet, the uncomfortable sensation in her gut persists, a reminder that things aren’t right. Her emotions converge, forming a bubble of anger in her chest. She’s tired of looking like a fool.

With a forceful slam, the door shuts behind Daisy as she enters the living room, her steps heavy and furious. She scans the room, finding it empty and shrouded in silence. The music has stopped, leaving only the wine stains as the only reminder. She scowls, her eyes fixed on the red-stained wood.

“Where are you?” Daisy’s voice reverberates through the room in a shout.

No response.

“Show yourself! I know you’re here.”

Silence. Total silence. Daisy’s face glistens with dampness, and she wipes her cheeks with the back of her hand. The tears, once contained, now break free like a dam bursting open.

Daisy pulls out her cell phone, her vision blurred by tears and sobs catching in her throat. With shaky fingers, she dials ten digits, and amidst the ringing, she eases down the wall, finding herself on the floor. Even though she doesn’t expect an answer, hearing Sloan’s voicemail gives her a small sense of comfort.

“Yeah, you reached Sloan. Leave a message and maybe I’ll get back to you.”

A loud beep sounds, and Daisy takes a moment to collect herself. “Sloan,” her voice quivers, “I need you. Please call me back when you can.”

Daisy draws her knees close to her chest, enveloping them with her arms as she lowers her head. This, she acknowledges, is her lowest point. Here it is, the culmination of losing her fiancé and her sanity, all within a single night.

Daisy’s attention is grabbed by a heavy sigh, causing her to look up. Everything in her freezes. There he sits, on the counter’s edge opposite her, absently twisting the ring on his finger.

“You know, there’s something about a girl crying,” he murmurs, drawing a breath before slapping a hand over his chest, “It just tears me up.”

Though his words carry a genuine tone, his eyes hold an elusive expression she can’t quite place. Daisy remains frozen, her gaze locked on him.

Their eyes meet, and he speaks softly, “You’re killing me, Daisy. And I’m already dead.”

Chapter two coming soon

Masterlist

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@eddiemunson4life420 @boxofsmittens @sweet-villain @all-time-otaku @enam3l @steveoswhore

#eddie munson x original character #Eddie Munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #Eddie Munson fanfiction series #Eddie Munson ghost #eddie munson x female oc #eddie munson x female original character

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