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moondirti · 1 year

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give peace a chance

I missed you, you want to say, but you know it’ll do nothing to change this routine. You settle on a question he’ll have a response to, for all it can do to uncover thoughts he’d want to bury deep.

pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x f!Reader rating: explicit (18+ mdni) word count: 3.4k summary: you’re always there, waiting on him warnings: size kink, blowjobs, facefucking, thigh riding, masturbation, squirting, angst, brief mentions of death, canon typical violence, mild mild gore, fluff notes: had 'Yes to Heaven' by lana del rey on loop while writing this one. out of body experience fr. anyway, i finally gave in and wrote for the boogey man. he's been occupying too much headspace for me to not.

You don’t hear him come in.

Crisp, white sheets gather in a knot at your midsection – previously pristine, wrinkles pull at its surface now. You can’t sleep, but that’s most nights.

Your curtains dance with an incoming drift, lazy gauze, sheer in the cresting moonlight. If you weren’t so absorbed in the white noise of your whirring fan, you could catch the quiet click of your backdoor. You always leave it open, just in case; people know not to dare take advantage of the liberties you exhibit. There’s the invisible threat, protection, of a shadowed mercenary over your toytown home.

His missions are incalculable. That’s the one thing he cannot promise you. Come back soon, you beg, but he leaves you with a silent kiss and nothing else.

There were once days where you’d tag along. Your chest twinges at the uncomfortable reminder. Cracked bone, spilt ichor; the bullet had barely missed your heart, lodged between the throbbing organ and a major vessel. He’d raged to get you decommissioned, incensed demands – they’d never seen him as angry.

Carpet flattens under your bare feet as you crawl out of bed, soft, like all things here. You hadn’t the luxury of comfort before, when Simon was Ghost and you were a rookie under him, but he’d granted you a life you sought only in your dreams. The first few days in paradise, you were torn over appreciation and resentment at the act, bandages wrapped around your chest – but you’d healed and found the irreversible damage etched into the hard plate of your clavicle – a rounded, discoloured scar.

You’re glad you’d left that life behind.

Padding out to the kitchen, you pour yourself a drink. The cupboard underneath your sink contains only bourbon – blended, straight, kentucky – so you fish out juice from your fridge. It’s sickly sweet, all natural sugars, your ass.

“Shouldn’t drink that stuff.” A voice cuts the tranquillity, rugged and choppy on harsh consonants – a cockney accent. You soothe the alarmed surprise racing in your gut, a gentle smile turning your cheeks.

His eyes pierce back at you, a smudge of white against an otherwise charcoal canvas. He’s sitting at the dining table, just across your kitchen island, his massive form illuminated by the warm light you’d turned on. You don’t know how you missed him, but then again, the man lives up to his name. Ghost; creeping up like the dead.

“We’re all out of milk.” You respond, your tease lilting to an affectionate whisper when it hits your tongue. Simon scoffs. “Not like whiskey’s any better.”

You pour him a glass regardless.

He’s still equipped in his tactical gear, his gun set on the chair next to him. It adds unnecessary bulk, layers on layers of insulation, conservation – impossibly, he looks bigger like this. Larger than life. Your hands run along the coarse material of his bullet proof vest; you think you can feel his muscles tense, despite the surfaces separating you. But he takes the bourbon with little fuss, wrapping a strong arm around your legs so your knees knock the side of his thigh.

“Hi,” You giggle, beaming down at him.

“Hey.” He mocks, setting the drink down.

His hard-shell mask conceals any tells you may glean. In just the balaclava, you can catch the shape of his lips, the curve of his nose, when he smiles – the painted fabric pulls taut over his features. But a skull stares back at you, and all you have are his eyes, framed with ashen lashes. They’re only enough to tell you one thing; he’s happy to be home.

You love the way they catch the light, a subtle glimmer in them.

For a while, the two of you just stand there, revelling in the weighted company of one another. His gloved hand presses circles into your flesh, just under the hem of your sleeping shorts, while yours find every bit of exposed skin you can. There’s not much – just the small stretch of neck you can reach, tucked behind his collar before the rest of him disappears. But you find it with reverence, smoothing over it, his heated body slowly easing by the minute under your ministrations. Some part of you realises the desperation you observe him with, the hurried glances at his back, his stomach, his legs. You look for darkened, sticky fabric. You look for blood.

You don’t have the courage to speak your fears into fruition.

Simon slowly begins to pull the heavier parts of his armour off. The night vision goggles on his head, the packets of ammo stuffed into available pockets. You move to help him, humming, shifting as you unbuckle the back of his plate carrier. His groans are wicked, deep waves of relief stemming from somewhere in his chest, and you hide the blush that arises at the sound, throwing the layer into an unknown corner. You remember the soreness, the knotted shoulders from days in the same kit, your spine in aching need of a good long stretch. You make a mental note to rub his back later.

You take off his gloves. There’s little give – they’re crusted in dried gore and gunpowder, the bones on their front almost entirely camouflaged. A sharp tug is what it takes to peel them off his hands. But then his skin is bared to you. You survey the grit that dusts the contours of his veins. Dirt has sunk through the fibres.

When he’s left in just his mask and underclothes, he finally slumps, posture altering from that of a soldier’s to one of a tired man. His legs spread, thick thighs filling his pants, and he reaches for his drink again, lifting the bottom of his mask and balaclava to take a large gulp. His newly revealed Adam's apple bobs with the motion.

“How many men?” You speak into the space. He pauses, his pink lips pursing at the brim of his glass. You have half a mind to regret asking, but you do this for your own solace.

“Jus’ three.” Just. To anyone else, he may sound indifferent, his tone etched in that low timbre, unwavering with the grief over lost comrades. To you, you know that his pain is cavernous, a bottomless chasm he’ll undoubtedly return to. Indicatively, he pulls his mask back down over his face. It isn’t just three men. It’s three too many – but it’s on the lower end of the casualties the 141 usually faces.

You wait for him to say the words you’re looking for.

“They’re alright.”

You nod. Al Bravo team was not amongst the fatalities. Gaz. Price. Soap. You cling onto the reassurance of your friends’ continued survival, a buoy until the next raging storm.

Simon’s hand returns to its place on your leg, tracing long lines along the back of it. You shiver, suppressing the heat that spreads up your tummy like wildfire. His steel gaze is indecipherable as he looks up at you; your emotions flit across your face erratically. You wish he’d take the mask off, get on even footing with you, but it takes a while for him to come down from his missions. For as long as he’s racked with enduring adrenaline, he’ll keep his guard up.

He’s surrounded by the safe walls of your – his – home, but he’s in over his head.

You bow down, placing a gentle kiss on the curve of his jaw. The arm wrapped around you draws you closer.

He smells like saltpetre, guncotton, hints of kerosene floating in the air between you. You push your face nearer to his, and you’re able to catch a faint whiff of his aftershave, traces of the cleanliness and cologne he leaves behind here, with you. You open your mouth to comment on it; he beats you to your cause:

“Lovely girl.” He squeezes the flesh on your upper thigh – not quite your ass, but almost.

“Mmm, Simon.” You start, capturing his eyes. They bear down on you with an intensity that makes your core ache. “Y’Can’t keep doing this to me.”

You imagine he’s smirking when he retaliates. “Can say the same for you, expectin’ me to focus out there when you look this good.” Like a giddy schoolgirl, you bite your lip at his compliment.

Stirring to kiss his jaw again, you slowly start to unzip his windbreaker. Your fingers span the front of the black hoodie underneath, tracing the hard plane of his chest, feeling it rumble with a noiseless groan. His legs spread wider. You catch a telling bulge in your peripheral.

“Need help?” You murmur, purring when he slips underneath your shorts to give your rear a feel. His callouses dig into you.

“Need you.” He says.

The hand that was on his chest inches downward now, your nails raking along. You give a half-suppressed laugh as his abdomen tightens, bracing against your ticklish assault. You want to feel it bare – to extricate the exhaustion from an uncovered torso and watch as his muscles roll, solid brawn unravelling with the slightest touch. But you’ll settle on this, you know he needs it. His mask does unspeakable things to you, anyway.

“Relax.” You encourage with a breath. Simon doesn’t listen; he still kneads your flesh with an unforgiving grip. His thumb brushes close to the soaked patch on your panties – with the appreciative grunt he gives, you know he senses the arousal emanating from you.

His cock strains his pants, taking up all the space it can. You coo, poor thing, as you cup the underside of it. He gives you a reproaching spank, and your hips buck in tandem to his. As you do, you realise now how uncomfortable of a position you’re in – your neck cramps in this angle. Really, it’s a silly thing to be hung up about, but Simon must read the subtle cringe you give, for he urges you to kneel, guiding you by your head to crawl in between his open legs.

You’re halfway under the table when you look up at him again, cheek pressed adoringly against his knee. He’s seemingly content like this, petting round your forehead to the ridge of your chin. His palm is large, dry, warm. You quickly lose trajectory as he caresses you, all droopy eyes and small smiles.

He catches when you rub your legs together, chasing a friction that will never amount to him. You can never escape his scrutiny; Simon captures everything.

He pats your cheek and pinches it before his touch leaves you. Newly awake, you perk up, perching on your haunches to lean further into him. You’re always eager, but his chuckle at your barely concealed anticipation beckons a stone to lodge itself in your throat. It’s a ball of desire, denser than most things, snowballing with every passing moment in his presence. You’re tuned in on him, rapt to every subtle thing – the deep exhales, the anchoring of his boots to hardwood floors. It’s take, take, take, an absorption of anything he’s willing to give. It tends to be like this after he comes back – was like this back on the base, when you’d known nothing but his moniker and callsign.

You recall rubbing one out to the staticky crackle of his voice over the channel, your headset pressed tight to your ears. You’d never told him that; you figure now’s a good time as any.

“Used to fantasise about you, y’know.” You sigh, ironing over his calves. You move your brushes to his hulking thighs when he begins to undo his pants, wetting your lips.

His next exhale is torn, steadiness ripped to shreds by your less-than seductive words. “Oh yeah?” He remarks, scooping into his boxers to pull his heavy cock out. “What about?”

It springs free just then, angry head flushed a deep red, blood supplied by pulsing veins that branch to the top. You keen at the precum that beads at the top, rushing to catch it with your index to slip it onto your tongue. He says nothing, merely contemplating as you wriggle with the heady taste of him.

“This,” You add after a long moment, before licking a long, wet stripe up the base of his dick. His whole body jerks unexpectedly, and he grabs onto your head to steady your impatient efforts.

“Fuckin’ hell.”

“Gone soft on me? I see.” Chortling, you play with his tip, batting it back and forth to tap your lips. He is anything but soft – regrettably, though, the rise you get from teasing him is too great to pass up.

“Shut it, pet, before I turn your insides over.” He urges you forward once he’s settled. You don’t tell him how much you’d really like him to. In due time.

Your lips wrap around the bulbous head, sides stretching to accommodate his girth. You’re familiar with the drill by now; hollow your cheeks, keep your jaw nice and loose. Use some teeth, he chokes at the pain.

His skin moves with you as you sink down , rolling your tongue over the ridges that cross your path. Your breath is hot, your mouth even hotter – sweltering, you suck him in and coat his rock-hard with a film of saliva, which aids you when you bob back up. You can’t reach the root of him, not yet – he’s way too big – so your hand wraps around the length not in your mouth.

“That’s it.” Simon rasps, now pushing you down in support. Your hum is lost in the lewd slurps, but he twitches with the vibrations it produces. A glob of drool leaks from you, seeping down to gather in his scruffy curls – you use it as slick to twist your wrist around his base.

He’s ripe with the salty taste of sweat and precum, a dizzying combination – you hope you’re subtle as you slip your free hand down your pants, pressing up into the plush of your cunt. You find where you’re most sensitive, a tight bundle of nerves, and touch yourself, all the while savouring the masculinity that engulfs you – his muscled thighs by your ears, his giant hands pressing down on your head.

A particularly loud groan sounds from above. You triple your efforts, delighted at your part in helping him unwind. At one point, his added pressure pushes you down all the way. You gag, blubbering with choked gasps, but your lips stay sealed around him, an unforgiving vacuum. His happy trail scratches your nose,

“Gonna cum, you lovely thing. Righ’ down your throat. Take it all, understand?” He asks. You’re able to discern the wobble in his abrasive voice – his balls spasm at your lips, ready to erupt at any moment. You nod, gaping at him earnestly, with wide, watery eyes. His own soften, downturning at the corners. “‘Atta girl.”

With the hazy memory of his face before he’d left, you can draw an abstraction of what he might look like right now. You trick yourself into thinking he’s smiling down at you. Gentle, caring.

You don’t have to try as hard to believe it.

Your fingers work fervently over your sopping cunt, slipping between velvet folds. Your exertion, combined with his pure fucking magnetism, is almost enough to tip you over the edge. A cluster in your gut stiffens, grows, upends. You stroke yourself impossibly faster.

Simon curls inward, his mask now directly above you. A bit of his cock drags from your mouth – your bottom teeth scrape a vein in consequence. He jolts. Then, rich, long ropes of cum shoot into your awaiting mouth, painting you with musky white. You keep jerking him as he does, urging more, more, more, milking him to spill his all into you.

A tap of your shoulder is all the evidence you need to pull off him with a pop. You didn’t cum, it doesn’t matter, you hardly feel the mounting desperation amidst the grand scheme of things. Simon’s back hits the chair, his head tilting as he takes you in.

“C’mere,” He grunts, pushing backwards to allow you space to stand. You oblige, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand – it only serves to smear the mess across your cheek. Your back brushes the table – he beckons you closer – until your bruised knees hit the edge of the chair.

When he’s satisfied, his hands run up your sides, starting at your arms, then downward, so they can hook into the waistband of your shorts. You lock onto his all-consuming stare, dark with an unspoken question, his pupils blown wide with lingering lust.

“Go ahead.” You coax.

He nods and pulls your shorts off with one, swift movement.

Cold air meets soaked cotton – you tremble, whether with goosebumps or the weight of his study, you don’t know. You’re the farthest thing from a blushing virgin, but Simon manages to propel you back into that bashful headspace. Every time with him is ruthless – stifling broken sobs while adjusting to his width, utter pleasure and the smallest bit of pain.

Perhaps you’ll forgo that this time around. He’s quickly softening against his pelvis. You understand – stamina tends to dissipate after holding out for so long. Though he’s anything but a selfish lover.

He guides you to straddle his thigh.

You squirm, hip flexors burning with the strain of splitting over the breadth of him. He keeps you steady with his hands on your waist – you clutch onto his wrists. His sleeves have rucked up to reveal his tattooed forearm. You trace the ink, reverent, requiring as much skin-to-skin as possible. It flees the fastest, that sensation, running up behind him when he exits the door. The bruises, the bites, the cramp from hitting your cervix one too many times, on the other hand – they all endure, keeping you sated long enough so that you aren’t compelled to rejoin him. He might do that on purpose, in fact.

Your clit folds as it meets his leg – a new surge of slick spills from you.

“A-Ah! Simon, y–”

“I know, pet. Jus’ ride me, yeah, like that.”

Your bottom half ruts into him, finding purchase on the solid surface of his thigh. Your panties slide, preventing the potential for divine friction, so you push them to the side, wedging it in the crevice of a lip and your pubic bone. You stutter apologies to Simon for the mess – your natural lubricant smears onto his cargo pants, sullying the fabric. He assures that he’ll wear it proudly. You’re a prouder medal than blood.

You’re whimpering now, wailing about everything and nothing all at once with your face tucked into his neck. He embraces you – sturdiness forcing you to stunt your movements to short, hurried grinds – and says nothing.

Something terrifying begins to burn in you; promising a cataclysm. It’s him. His scent, his strength, his size, his presence. I missed you. I missed you. Your impending orgasm crawls up the tendons in your pelvis, seeping into bone and flooding like a high tide. Your pants grow shallower. Your lungs feel cramped. Something about this, here, with him, lights every synapse in you, flashing bright with colours and promises and safety. I miss you.

“I miss you,” You finally gasp, broken as you peer up at him. He stills – you keep your pace. Sweat beads at your temple.

He slowly removes the mask.

The balaclava follows soon after.

Simon then bows down, pressing his lips to your furrowed brow.

And then, everything in you compresses, fierce and tight. You wind your fingers into his hair, pulling his head back to bite the column of his neck. You do it to muffle the sob that bubbles when you erupt in searing agony atop him, back arching, toes curling. Your body goes completely rigid.

He groans with the cut of your teeth, and your cunt pulsates again, spilling down on him, your fluids draining to double your mark on the man.

“Missed you too.” Simon rustles in response. You seize his mouth with yours, uncaring for how messy it is. It’s what you need; to feel your teeth knock, to bind yourself to him.

You kiss in him the intent to never let you go. You know it won’t last, but for now, it’s enough.

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 7 months

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Lonely This Christmas

Pairing: Billy Washington (Trigger Point) x f!reader Warnings: Dark and obsessive behaviour, stalking, smut, dubious consent. Word count: ~4.5k

Summary: On a rare occasion when her and Billy both find themselves home for Christmas at the same time, they admit they've always fancied each other. However, as things develop between them, she soon realises that for Billy it's something much more sinister than a harmless crush. Based on this request.

Author's note: For my darling @heimtathurs. I don't have a tag list. Please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.

She walks up the pathway to the front door, the combination of the bitter cold and the handles of the plastic carrier bag cutting into her flesh causing her fingers to sting painfully. The cans in the bag clank noisily against each other as she jostles it from one hand to the other, raising her fist to knock at the door. Her breath comes in hot, cloudy puffs as she shifts from foot to foot, relief flooding through her as she sees the silhouette of her best friend, Lana, appear through the glass in the door.

“Let me in then!” She grumbles, pushing past and handing Lana the bag, once the door is open. “It’s bloody freezing out there!”

It’s December 23rd, and time for her and Lana’s annual tradition of Christmas Eve Eve film night - a ritual that they’ve managed to keep alive since they first met in secondary school, though as the years have passed their taste in films has matured and they can now sit and openly drink beer, instead of needing to sneak a bottle of MD 20:20 back and forth between them beneath a duvet, like they did as teenagers.

The location never changes - always at Lana’s parents’ house - even now that she’s moved out, she always comes home for two weeks over the festive period, and like clockwork the two of them sit on the sofa the evening before Christmas Eve and stare at the TV until they can no longer keep their eyes open.

She shrugs off her coat as she moves through the hallway, into the living room, the warmth from the central heating causing her skin to prickle with the pleasant rise in temperature. Rolling her eyes as she spies the DVD case for Die Hard on the coffee table, she sits heavily down on the sofa, kicking her shoes off and tucking her legs beneath her.

“We watched this last year,” she says to Lana, who follows a few paces behind, having deposited the contents of the bag into the fridge in the kitchen, “It’s not even a Christmas film!”

“It’s set at Christmas, so it’s a Christmas film,” Lana shoots back, handing her a can of Stella, before flopping down beside her and cracking open her own. “And Bruce Willis in that vest? I’m gripped.”

She snorts a laugh, opening her own beer and taking a deep sip, enjoying the way the coolness of the bitter liquid fizzes against her tongue.

“How’ve you been anyway? Your mum and dad not in?”

Lana swallows and pokes at the inside of her cheek with her tongue. “Nah, they’re out for the evening, think they could use a break since face-ache moved back in. I’ve only been back here a few days and he’s already doing my head in.”

She feels her cheeks heat up at the mention of Billy. She’d met Lana’s younger brother when he’d started at the same secondary school as them and, although he was a couple of years below them, she’d always thought he was cute. He was tall, if a little on the lanky side, and his floppy blonde hair and big blue eyes instantly attracted her to him. She’d kept the fact that she fancied him to herself though, feeling it was inappropriate to lust after her best mate’s brother, especially a younger brother.

As the years had passed, Billy’s seemingly permanent cheeky smile had faded into a persistent look of misery. He’d done badly at school, left with failing grades and been rejected each time he’d tried to apply to join the army.

Meanwhile, Lana had flourished, leaving school with a handful of As and Bs. She’d enrolled at college, before enlisting in the army and from there her career in the police force had taken off. She’d moved away from home, had a place of her own and had made her parents proud.

Billy, on the other hand, had struggled with chronic unemployment, eventually falling in with an alt right group who had set him up for a potential terrorist attack. He’d barely escaped the explosion on Cranstead Gardens, and had never really pulled himself back together afterwards. His relationship with his long-term girlfriend, Becky, had broken down and he’d moved out of their flat and back in with his parents, where he’d been living for the last six months.

She hasn’t seen Billy since they left school, but Lana tells her all about him whenever they hang out or chat on the phone. She’s always felt strangely protective of him, where Lana and her parents have given Billy a hard time, she has opted for a softer touch, believing he just needs someone to understand him.

“You can’t be so hard on him,” she says, finger pinging against the ringpull of her can absentmindedly, “he’s been through a lot.”

Lana sighs, grabbing the remote from the coffee table. “You don’t know him like I do. He’s not paying any rent, never tidies up, isn’t bothering to look for work. We can’t help him, he won’t let us, doesn’t wanna help himself.”

“Where is he at the moment?”

“Skulking around upstairs,” Lana nods towards the staircase. “First Christmas he’s not spent at Becky’s mum’s in a long time and he’s taking it…well, I couldn’t tell you how he’s taking it, he never leaves his bloody room.”

She nods sadly, letting the topic go as they settle back into the sofa cushions as the opening credits for Die Hard begin to roll.

“I’m empty,” Lana says around twenty minutes into the film, shaking her beer can. “You want another?”

“It’s alright, I’ll go,” she tell hers, taking her empty and heading towards the kitchen, eager for a break from a film she had no interest in watching last year, let alone again this year.

She chucks the cans into the recycling bin, before opening the fridge and retrieving two more. She yelps as she closes the door, startled by Billy standing there.

“Jesus, Billy–”

“Sorry, sorry…” he mumbles apologetically, a tinge of pink dusting itself across his cheek bones, as he averts his gaze. “Wasn’t tryna scare ya, just came down to make a cuppa.”

She exhales through her nose, a smile tugging at her lips. “S’alright. How are you getting on, anyway? It’s been a while.”

“Yeah…” he says uncertainly, filling the kettle from the sink and then flicking it on to boil. “Guessing you heard what happened then?”

She nods, placing the cans on the side and wiping the condensation off of her hands onto her jeans. “Lana told me. I’m so sorry, Billy, I really hope you’re okay.”

He says nothing for a moment, dropping a tea bag into a mug, followed by a generous pour of milk.

Milk first. Ugh.

“It’s been hard, y’know,” he finally says, “tryna find work, but there’s fuck all out there. What are you up to these days? You’re looking well.”

The sudden shift in focus doesn’t go unnoticed by her, he’s clearly not keen to talk about himself, but she can’t help but smile at the small compliment, feeling herself grow bashful.

“Got a job at a marketing agency,” she tells him, “nothing fancy, but it pays the rent.”

She’s actually a high ranking executive, living in one of the area’s most expensive flat blocks and has a tidy sum saved away for a deposit to eventually buy a place of her own. She’s unsure of why she’s downplaying her achievements, perhaps on some level she feels she owes it to Billy to not rub her success in his face when he’s clearly having a rough time of it.

The kettle boils and Billy fills his mug, stirring the tea bag around with a spoon, before squeezing it out with his fingers, making her wince - that has to burn, but if it does it doesn’t appear to bother him. He discards the used bag on the side, before turning to her. She can see what Lana means about him not tidying up now, it would have taken two steps for him to put it in the bin, and he hasn’t bothered. The laziness almost makes her want to laugh.

“So you and Lana doing your film night then?” He asks, noisily slurping his tea, then fixing her with a soft, yet unblinking gaze.

The intensity of his baby blue eyes flusters her, and for a moment she forgets what he’s asked, feeling the same old butterflies from their school days return. She clears her throat, shaking her head as if to rid herself of the feeling.

“Y-yeah…I’m surprised you remember. You were a teenager the last time we did one of those with you here,” she smiles warmly.

He nods, keeping a hand wrapped around his mug, pushing off of the kitchen side towards her and suddenly she’s aware of just how tall he’s grown, her throat running dry as she feels the kitchen counter bite into her back as she presses herself against it.

She deflates slightly, letting go of a breath she wasn’t aware when she’d been holding, a little disappointed when he brushes past her, lingering in the kitchen doorway.

“I remember,” he says, a ghost of the lopsided smirk she loved so much from their school days playing upon his full lips, “remember what a racket you and Lana used to make pretending you weren’t pissed on that nasty blue stuff.”

She grins, her gaze dropping as she fiddles with the cuff of her jumper sleeve, thinking back to all those years ago. “Sorry, Billy,” she finally says, looking up at him, “we’ll keep it down tonight.”

“No worries, I’ll be upstairs,” he tells her. “Enjoy your film.”

“Billy?” She calls softly after him as he moves to go back upstairs.

He turns, looking at her questioningly.

“You’re looking well too, by the way.”

The dusting of pink that had appeared across his cheekbones earlier now returns in earnest and he gives a simple nod before turning and heading up the stairs.

She deposits his now cold, used teabag into the bin, then grabs hers and Lana’s beers from the side and goes back into the living room.

The rest of the evening passes uneventfully, her and Lana finish off Die Hard, then move onto Gremlins.

On the couple of occasions that she goes upstairs to the bathroom she can hear the sound of Billy playing Call of Duty through his closed door. She thinks about knocking to invite him down to join them, but figures if he had wanted to do that he’d have asked in the kitchen, so she leaves it.

They’re halfway through Jingle All the Way when she feels her eyelids start to grow heavy. She leans forward, placing her half drunk can on the coffee table and turns to Lana.

“I’m gonna have to push off home, babe, I can’t keep my eyes open.”

Lana nods, pausing the film and sitting forward with a yawn. “Yeah, should probably get to bed myself. You gonna be alright getting home? Need me to call you a cab?”

“Nah, it’s only down the road, I’ll be fine walking,” she insists as she puts her shoes and coat back on.

“Alright, well, text me when you get home, yeah?” Her friend says, pulling her into a hug.

“Course,” she smiles, hugging her back and heading towards the front door. “Have a great Christmas. See you for New Year’s.”

Lana waves her off and as the front door closes behind her, she’s about to head back down the pathway when the glowing ember of the end of a lit cigarette catches her eye.

She turns to see Billy leaning against the side of the house, smoking a roll up.

“You off?” He asks, exhaling a plume of smoke that’s made larger by the cold that clings to the puff of his breath.

“Yeah. Was good to see you, Billy,” she says, trying to ignore how her pulse races at the way the soft glow of the street lamp illuminates the sharpness of his side profile.

“I’ll give you a lift, if you want?” He offers, crushing his cigarette beneath his foot.

“You don’t have to do that, I’m only twenty minutes down the road,” she says, suddenly feeling awkward, putting her hands in her coat pocket.

“And you could be five minutes down the road if I drive,” he retorts with a smirk.

She sighs, her gaze softening. Not having to walk home in the cold would be nice, actually. “Yeah, go on then.”

Billy walks around to the front door, opens it and fishes around on the key hooks until he has the set he needs. They walk down the road until they reach a red VW Polo and he unlocks it.

“New car?” She asks nonchalantly, having expected to see his old silver Vauxhall Cavalier.

“Nah, this is mum’s. Haven’t had a car since…well…y’know.”

Since it blew up. Fuck, how could she be so thoughtless?!

“Oh god, Billy, I’m so sorry, I–”

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, opening the driver’s side door. “Do you mind just giving me a minute before you get in?”

She nods, keeping her hands in her pockets, watching as feels all around the car’s interior, checking inside the glove box and under the seats.

Checking for explosives.

He finally settles behind the steering wheel, gripping it tightly, attempting to calm his breaths.

“Honestly, Billy, I don’t mind walking…” she says quietly.

He looks up at her, as though just remembering she’s there. “No…no, it’s fine. I want to do it. It’s good for me, I have to.”

“Can I get in now?” She asks, giving Billy a reassuring smile.

He nods, and she walks around to the passenger’s side, climbing in and buckling her seatbealt.

Billy starts the car and they drive in silence for a few moments before he finally speaks.

“You must think I’m such a loser,” he mutters, fingers flexing against the steering wheel.

She turns slightly in her seat, shocked by what he’s said. “I’ve never thought you were a loser. Please don’t say that.”

“I’ve got no job, no car, I live with my mum and dad, can’t even drive without needing to check I won’t fucking blow up first,” he scoffs, “don’t bullshit me.”

“I’m not!” She protests. “You’ve been through so much, Billy, you need to give yourself a break.”

His lips quirk, he pulls a hand away from the steering wheel to pull at the collar of his t-shirt. “S’not just what happened though, brought it on myself dad says. I’ve always been a loser, ever since school.”

“I never thought you were,” she assures him gently, “I actually really fancied you back then.”

Billy draws in a sudden breath, glancing sideways at her as he pulls up outside of her block of flats.

How does he know where she lives? Lana must have told him.

“And now?” He asks, turning off the engine and twisting in his seat to look at her.

It feels as though all the air has left the car suddenly, as they stare at each other. She isn’t sure what possesses her, perhaps the three cans of lager she’s drunk throughout the evening, but she finds herself leaning over the centre console and pushing her lips against his.

He reciprocates, soft and unsure at first, but quickly gains confidence, his mouth moving against hers with more urgency.

She cups his face, her fingers grazing over the stubble at the corner of his jaw that he always seems to miss when shaving and she smiles into the kiss, enjoying its roughness against her fingertips.

Billy seizes the opportunity to slip his tongue into her mouth and she moans softly as it slides against her own.

Their pupils are wide with lust, the windows of the car fogged up when they finally part for breath, keeping their foreheads pressed together.

He strokes his large hand over the back of her head, his voice barely above a whisper. “Can I come up?”

She swallows thickly, not wanting to reject him, but knowing it’s not a good idea to rush things. “Not tonight, Billy, I–”

He jerks away, hurt flashing across his features, rubbing his nose on the back of his hand. “Right, yeah, sorry, was stupid to think you’d want that…”

“No, no, it’s not that!” She says, reaching over and taking his hand in hers, running her thumb over his scarred knuckles. “We’ve waited so long for this, I don’t wanna rush it. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want you, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, his shoulders relaxing as he breathes an audible sigh of relief. “Can I text you then?”

“I’d like that,” she looks at him through hooded eyes, “let me give you my number.”

“I’ve got it, don’t worry.”

Oh. Something else Lana must have given him.

“Alright then. Well, goodnight.”

She leans over and pecks him on the lips, then exits his car.

When she goes to sleep that night it’s with a smile upon her face, knowing that her childhood crush feels the same way that she does. In the back of her mind, she knows that Lana will go mad when she finds out, but that’s a bridge she’ll cross when she gets to it.

She is less than enthused when she awakens the next day realising it’s Christmas Eve and she needs to make her annual visit to her great aunt’s for room temperature sherry, mince pies and questions about why she isn’t married with children yet.

Her face lights up when she sees a text on her phone from an unknown number and realises it’s Billy.

She grins excitedly to herself, calling her great aunt and feigning a migraine, before showering and readying herself for her day with Billy.

True to his word in his text, the buzzer to her flat sounds an hour later and he is at her door a few moments later.

It’s awkward at first, as they both stand there sizing each other up, unsure of what to say or do, until he takes the initiative and steps forward to kiss her.

It all feels so easy and natural, as though it’s something they should always have been doing, and when he takes her hand in his as they walk into town she can’t help the way her heart skips a beat at how perfectly her hand slots into his.

They walk around the Christmas market together, hand in hand, drinking mulled wine. For the first time since they were at school together, she sees Billy laugh, a genuine, happy laugh. He makes jokes, a sparkle returning to his eyes and he looks so relaxed, she is finally able to see his potential again, all that he could be if he wasn’t constantly wallowing in self pity, lurking in Lana’s shadow and taking his parents’ criticisms to heart.

When he walks her home that evening, she doesn’t hesitate to invite him up. Gentle affirmations of “I had a nice time today” rapidly escalate to needy kisses as they tug at each other’s clothes. This is the Billy that she wants, and she sees no point in waiting any longer.

His large hands eagerly grasp at her hips as she pushes him down onto the sofa, straddling his lap.

They are a frenzied clash of lips, teeth and tongue, her hands finding their way into his hair, pulling his head back slightly to mouth at his jaw and neck. He groans at the sensation, hips bucking up to meet hers.

When he slides down his tracksuit bottoms and boxers to free the ample hardness that has been pressing against her thigh for the last five minutes, she lifts herself, meaning to remove her tights. She gasps when his long fingers pluck at the crotch, tearing them open and pushing her knickers to the side.

His digits swipe through the wetness of her folds and she shudders against him. “You on the pill?” He asks gruffly.

She nods in affirmation, a whine escaping her as he replaces his fingers with the head of his cock, slowly pressing into her.

The sounds he makes against her ear as he thrusts up into her are lewd, but with every grunt and breathy moan she clenches around him. This is a purely carnal act of desire, fulfilling years’ worth of pent up animalistic need. There will be plenty of time for gentle lovemaking, but right now she just needs to feel him, and judging by the way slams her down to meet each quick thrust, jaw slack and brow furrowed, she is certain he feels the same way.

The throbbing of him inside of her, as he spills deep within her, drives her over the edge and she peaks with a strangled cry, tightening around him in quick successive pulses.

They remain like that for a long while afterwards, resting against each other on the sofa, in the darkness of her living room.

“I’ve wanted this for so long, you’ve got no idea,” he whispers eventually, once his breathing has returned to normal.

“Me too,” she whispers.

“I wanna stay, but–”

“It’s Christmas Eve, Billy, it’s alright. You should get home before your mum gives you an earful.”

They pull unsteadily apart, adjusting their clothes, and she walks him to the door.

“I’ll text you, yeah?” He says.

“Yeah,” she smiles before kissing him softly, “Merry Christmas, Billy.”

“You an’ all,” he murmurs, pulling her into a tight hug and then walking away.

Christmas Day is uneventful. Presents and a roast at her parents’, followed by an afternoon of board games and films.

She gets a happy Christmas text from Lana, and smiles when she gets one from Billy too - the first he’s ever sent her.

By the time Boxing Day rolls around, she’s already thoroughly fed up with her family and eager to be back in her own space. She grins when her phone buzzes with a message from Billy.

She pulls out her phone, thinking carefully about what to send to her best friend, before typing a message.

She arrives at Billy and Lana’s parents’ house an hour later and is given a warm welcome by everyone. It’s strange not being able to interact properly with Billy, considering how close they’ve become so quickly over the last few days, however, he carries himself with a confidence she’s never seen him have in front of his family before.

He stands a little straighter, actually bothers to make eye contact when he talks to people. It spreads a warmth within her chest to see him no longer looking so downtrodden and defeatist, she can no longer sense the anger that used to simmer just below the surface like she used to be able to.

His eyes find hers whenever no one’s looking and she can’t help the smiles that she directs his way.

The leftovers have been dished up and they’ve been sitting around the TV for an hour when she goes upstairs to use the bathroom.

Noticing Billy’s bedroom door ajar on her way back downstairs, she can’t resist a peek inside. She’d never dared go in when she’d come to see Lana when they were younger. She pushes the door fully open, nose wrinkling at the rumpled bed sheets and assortment of dirty socks and boxers that litter the floor, but smiles as she casts her eye over the Oasis poster on the wall and the acoustic guitar that leans against the chest of drawers.

She twiddles absentmindedly with the PS4 controller, when a box that’s been shoved haphazardly beneath the bed catches her eye. She drags it out, pulling out a scrapbook that sits on the top.

Her heart hammers in her chest, her blood feeling as though it runs ice cold as she flips through it. It’s filled with old school photos of her, plus newer pictures that have clearly been printed off from her social media accounts.

Rummaging further into the box she pulls out items she’d assumed she’d either lost or that Lana had borrowed on the occasions she’d stayed over - there are scrunchies, old lip balms, even a pair of her underwear. Disgust causes bile to rise in her throat, a mixture of fear and disbelief quickly spreads its way through her body.

“You weren’t supposed to see that,” Billy’s voice says quietly from the doorway, causing her to gasp as she looks up in fright. “Doesn’t matter now though, don’t need that shit anymore, not now I’ve got the real thing.”

“Billy,” she pleads, her voice shaking, “what is all this?”

“I’ve always wanted you, never thought you’d feel the same though. She looked like you, y’know,” he tells her, stepping closer and shutting the door behind him.

“Who?” Tendrils of icy fear spread to her belly, every nerve in her body screaming at her to run, yet she stays rooted to her spot on the bed.

“Becky,” he says simply, “she was the spit of you. Only reason I went out with her, to be honest. I was gutted when she ended things, but she doesn’t matter now. Don’t need some cheap knock off, not when I have you.”

“Please, Billy, you’re scaring me,” she whispers, tears pricking her eyes.

“Everything’s gonna be alright. Job hunting, the bomb, none of it matters because I’ve got you.”

“Listen to yourself, this isn’t you,” she pleads, backing up on the bed away from him as he towers over her.

“You’ve seen how much better I am with you, you can’t take that away. I need you. And I make you feel good too. Look, you just need a reminder.”

He looms over her on the mattress, his hand darting between her legs and she whimpers.

“Billy, no, please…”

She wants to scream, to cry out and make him stop, but the thought of attracting the attention of Lana and her parents and them coming up here and seeing all of this is more than she can stand. So she lays there, lets Billy slide his hand up her skirt and into her underwear, hating the way her body responds to his trust.

“See?” He murmurs again the shell of her ear. “Only I can make you feel like this. Everything is gonna go my way now that you’re mine, you’ll see.”

Her vision goes watery, a combination of tears and building pleasure causing the poster on the opposite wall to blur.

She tenses as his fingers work her quickly towards her climax and she screws her eyes shut, shuddering with a quiet whine as she falls apart.

“There you go,” he coos gently, “I’ve got you now, and I’m never letting you go.”

The way he says it sends a shiver down her spine. Billy is a man with nothing to lose. He means it. He’ll never let her go.

#billy washington #billy washington x reader #billy washington x you #billy washington x y/n #billy washington smut #billy washington imagine #billy washington trigger point #ewan mitchell #billy washington fan fiction #billy washington fanfiction #billy washington fanfic #billy washington fan fic #trigger point

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highttowers · 10 months

Text

heart-shaped sunglasses.

pairing(s); matthew lillard!william afton x reader

fandom; five nights at freddy’s [movie]

w/c; 592

trigger/content warnings; slightly unholy thoughts from william about you in your uniform, fem!reader, (reader wears lipstick, has boobs, is called 'girl' by william and has medium-length hair), heavy lana del rey influences (diet mountain dew), mentioned that reader smokes cigarettes, age gap (william is late 40s, reader is mid 20s), no explicit romance but it's heavily implied there's mutual pining, written from william's pov, reader knows his real name, not proof-read, NO use of y/n, lmk if i missed anything.

stella speaks! at this point someone reblogs/tags me in a shitpost about this man, i add tags while my brain is inconsolably horny, and then all of a sudden i'm writing a new draft. and yes, ik lana wasn't really a thing in 1990s, but for now let's pretend he's still a silver fox in the 2020s.

tags; @truecobblepot bc ofc🫶🏽🫶🏽

inspired by this post and the shenanigans that ensued.

“I just wanted to know how much I appreciate you staying late these past couple weeks.”

William’s voice is smooth, he’s demeanor calm, the slight tilt of his head and the casual clasp of his hands in front of him giving no hint to the turmoil in his brain.

You’re his employee. His best employee, no less. He can’t afford to lose you, to drive you away. So he’ll make sure you’re not looking him in the eye when his roam your body.

The words that come from your mouth are sincere. He knows this. He doesn’t much care in this moment however. That red vest is pulled across your breasts, and the top button of your shirt is undone, your tie looser now that the building is empty.

It’s his fault, how tight your uniform is on you. He has your size on file, but he always orders a size down, just for him. He doesn’t pay mind to the way teenage pizza boys and older brothers here with siblings watch you, because he knows he’s miles better than they are.

His eyes linger in the plastic heart-shaped sunglasses hanging from your collar, and he nods towards them. “And those? I do hope you haven’t been wearing those all day.”

It’s a gentle correction. No matter how much William favors you, he still must keep his image up. You shake your head. “No, I just got them out of my locker when I closed up with Robyn.”

“Where did you get them?” He asks, leaning forward. The movement is subtle, but he knows you catch it.

“It was a gag gift from some party,” you answer, taking them off your vest and sliding them on. William's breath barely catches in his throat. The frames are the same shade as the blood red lipstick you love wearing.

It’s your signature. It’s how he knows you’ve been in the break room, paper coffee and water cups stamped with your lips in the trash, lipstick printed cigarette buts in the back alleyway that he’s convinced himself are prettier than anyone else’s.

William's brain is rapid firing all kinds of signals, ranging from you're nearly 20 years younger than him, to why have I never felt this was about my ex-wife?

Everything about you seems to catered to William's preferences. You hold eye contact with him and customers, you're great with kids (including his!), and you actually appreciate the care he takes of his animatronics.

He chuckles as you look around his dim office with your heart-shaped sunglasses. "Well, now, look at you. Never was there ever a girl so pretty." You giggle, tugging on a strand of hair and sliding them up into your hair. "That's so sweet, Mr. Afton!" William chuckles. You're picture perfect and William is damn well aware that he's no good for you. "Please, call me William. It's only fitting that we remain on first name basis...as of your promotion to assistant manager."

Your eyes widen, and you let out a little gasp. "Do you really mean that, Mr. Af-- William?"

God, the way your lips form his name is intoxicating. He nods, his demeanor wavering slightly as you beam at him, thanking him.

It’s a power move, he knows. A selfish one, no less. But he can’t risk losing the one competent employee. And besides, the assistant manager’s uniform is closer to his, the pale purple shirt and darker tie, black slacks and black shoes (of your choosing, of course).

And who is he to deny himself that view?

#william afton x reader #william afton x you #william afton #five nights at freddy's #fnaf #five nights at freddy's movie #fnaf movie #lana del rey #diet mountain dew #heart shaped sunglasses #🖋️ — my writing #🐻 — five nights at freddy’s

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pascals-doll · 3 months

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kill kill 2

joel miller x reader

🫧 part 2 | ✩°｡⋆⸜ 🎧 PART 1 | PART 3

🫧 based off kill kill by lana del rey, written loosly off the lyrics

🫧 description: angst, heated arguing, all of this is dramatized tbh, outbreak! joel, reader having a meltdown, no mentions of y/n, reader is in distress, joel tries his best to calm you down, soft joel, suggestive not really, mentions of joel dying (not word for word but just something happening to him)

Tell me about Ray and his girl

Do I know Ray has gone to meet you?

Love you, I do

Stay here, I won't

The stars fade from your eyes

🫧

Joel stood there speechless to say the least. you didnt mean the way it sounded but also perfectly explained how you felt “all i do is wait even if i go outside to tend the garden, practice my range, visit tommys or the stables, or even fucking leaving this house at all! no matter what i do, i am waiting. my mind goes in circles knowing all the things you face out there. you wouldnt even begin to understand the feeling my heart feels everytime you walk out that goddamn door- heartbreak is not even the fucking word.” you sob out, youre speech of pure pent up emotions.

you hadn’t spoken much words in that past months, if anything you spent more time writing them than saying them. this was, to say the least the most youve said in months. youre sobs didnt stop even after. Joel stood there for only a moment before immediately taking you into his embrace, his bulked up completely engulfing your vulnerable one.

“oh…princess, shh” Joel shushes into your ear, you squirm wanting to pull away in frustation as a river of tears fall down your puffy cheeks. Joel didnt budge until you began to grunt in his embrace, not giving up the struggle to get out of his arms “please doll-dont fight me” Joel says softly, struggling slightly because of the slight push of your hands “let go of me! Ive done everything i can! im so alone-im so alone! its like youre dead. we all might aswell be…” you get quieter on your last two sentences, becoming timid but still youre mind in a frenzy.

“nothing is going to happen to me.” Joel states, he meant it. although you loved him dearly, you knew he wasnt immune to infected or a human bullet-proof vest. no matter how much skill.

“you and i know better than to say that.” you state coldly, his big deep eyes that you swore you saw stars in them each time fall. he knew you were right “lemme get the shower runnin’ f’us doll? wha’da ya say?” he suggests softly, a soft smile tugging his lips while wiping the tears from your pink puffy cheeks. you just nod returning the soft smile.

he helped you up the stairs into your bathroom. you just hopped up ontop of your sink counter, opening your medicine cabinet to get your med-kit while Joel got the hot shower running for both of you.

it was winter, the last time you had seen him it was fall.

you couldn’t help all the random thoughts that overfilled your mind “did ya’ hear me darlin?” Joel calls out to you, settling you out of your head into reality “hm?” you hummed softly, confused. Joel just threw you a soft grin while walking closer to you “our bath is ready” he says, his hands resting on your thighs. you giggle slightly, playing with the buttoms of his button-up “im sorry doll. my intentions are never to hurt you. that is the last thing i want to do. there isnt enough medicine supply at Tommy’s, you knew were responsible for to go out for supply.” Joel says softly, slowly pulling off your furry cardigan from your shoulders. you roll your eyes, your attitude inches away from coming back “Tommy has plenty of men.” your tone came out a bit harsh “those men have families m’doll” he explains, caressing your cheek.

you couldnt fight there, you werent dumb enough to argue with family. you werent family whatsoever but you were somebody.

“i know, but last time i checked because of me you have a place to come home too! and yes, you have your own place at Tommys. yet, theres a reason you come here. i deserve more.” you explain and there goes your eyes, welling up with tears. you refused to look at Joel in the eyes.

Joel couldnt say anything as he didnt think about it like that, yes he had his own house yet nothing made it ‘home’. you were right “yes doll, m’such a fucked up old man…i aint even realize that without you, all this i considered home. it would seize to exist.”

from the first word to his last, his fingers slowly undressed you with each sentence building up and leaving his mouth. youre loose long sleeve with sly buttons already popped off and open. his hands rested on your legging covered thighs.

you shuddered under his touch, feeling already soft under his sharp gaze. he meant every word he said “let me make it up to you, princess” he says, his fingers finding the hemming of your soft leggings.

you leaned up at him, looking up at him wirh such loving teary eyes. you were inches away from kissing him, your hands beginning to unbutton his dark long sleeve.

“only if you stay”

🫧

I'm in love with a dying man

I'm in love, lying in the sand

I'm in love with a dying man

I have done everything I can

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rarebritney · 1 month

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finished my Lana vest !

#my knitting #lana vest #knitting

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eddiesbigolepp · 2 years

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goddamn man child

synopsis: your occasional hookup is so good that you think you’ve fallen for him, he didn’t know til he got you high.

pairing: eddie munson x cheerleader!reader

warnings: mentions of sex, flirty characters, swearing, suggestive language and behavior, pining

word count: 1033

a/n: if u recognize some of these lyrics ily, they’re from norman f***ing rockwell by the queen herself, miss lana, also pt.2

“hello, earth to y/n?” eddie waves his hand in your face laughing. “whats gotten into you lately?” he questions, smile dropping slightly.

you, you want to say, you have gotten into me.

“nothing, just haven’t been feeling right.” you mutter, shifting away slightly. you didn’t mean to grow attached. but the more you came over after practice, the more you came over because you bored, the more you came over because you missed him.. the more attached you became.

his smile drops completely, concern washing over his face, “what’s wrong, sweetheart?”

that.

the way the pet name rolled off his lips to delicately. the way he could call you something so sentimental, so endearing, without any second thought.

“i’ve just been overworked at practice,” you bluff. its only half a lie, you truly never caught a break. “then i have so much homework to do, theres so many games this month and i barely get time to relax. when i do, im always stuck doing something for my mother. its an endless cycle.” you groan, bringing a hand over your eyes, rubbing them gently.

“aw, you poor thing, come here!” he smiles, pulling you into a tight hug. that was normal. the same way sitting in his bed in nothing but your underwear and his shirt was.

it was too normal.

you didn’t want it too be. you wanted more than a quick fuck and some late night conversation. you were over things ending before the sun came up. he had you hooked.

“eddie, stop!” you laugh and try prying his arms away. “you’re gonna squeeze me to death!” you whine as he pulls you close into his lap.

“what im saving you, restarting your heart or something,” he mumbles into your neck. he pulls you away and looks over to the black metal lunch box on his dresser.

“i might have a way for you to relax,” he smirks as your eyes follow his. in a second your eyes flash back to his face.

“you cannot be serious.” you state, raising your brows at him almost cautiously.

“what, are you scared?” he teases, lifting you off his lap and reaching over to grab the tin box.

“yes actually, never done…that before,” you explain quietly.

“its not gonna bite you, doll.” he reassures you, sitting on the bed and bringing his hand to your thigh to rub gently. “i’ll even teach you, i don’t offer that to just anyone i’ll have you know.” he chuckles.

you watch him open the box quickly, watching how his rings glisten in the dull light of his room. your eyes focused on how his hands moved quickly.

“i think smoking might help,” he starts, picking up a pre-rolled blunt from his lunchbox. “and who knows, might make you look hot.”

“oh yes, smoking solely to look cool.”

“i said hot, babe.” he grins closing the container and putting it back on his dresser. he stands, searching for his lighter all over the room. his jeans hanging low on his lips, button undone as he digs through his vest pocket.

“got it!” he beams walking back toward the bed. he sits beside you, back against the wall as he spreads his legs, getting comfortable. he lights the blunt quickly, and the two of you watch the paper burn before he brings it to his mouth.

“inhale, hold, exhale.” he explains, going to demonstrate, but he pauses. “you, take your time, don’t go rushing into this like you’re a professional.” he quips, finally placing the blunt between his lips and drawing in air and letting his head fall back against the wall.

he exhales, smoke going into the air before he looks over at you, in a daze. “here,” he holds the blunt to your face. “you try,”

you grab it from his hands with a sweet smile. you let out a shaky breath, and he brings his hand to your thigh again rubbing small circles into it.

“you don’t have to if you don’t want, baby.” he reassures you, the look on your face makes him change his mind quickly.

“no, no.. i’ve always wanted to try, why not try with support.” you try and comfort yourself.

“just take your time.” he mutters, watching you lift the blunt to your plush lips and inhale. it wasn’t as long as his, and nowhere near as experienced, but it was intense. the cough that followed made him crack a smile.

“that felt weird.” you smile, still coughing, smoke escaping from your nose. “can i try again?” you question, big doll like eyes boring into his.

“someones eager,” he smiles, picking on you playfully. he ultimately nods and you pull the blunt to your mouth again.

you take a longer drag, holding it in your mouth, turning to him. you blow it into his face, giggling as the smoke dusts his cheeks.

he rolls his eyes, snatching the blunt from you with a laugh. “cocky now are we, princess?” he says, blowing the smoke from his drag into your face.

you two stay like that for a while. trading the blunt between your fingers as it dwindles down into ash. you move from your seat against the wall, shifting down to lay your head on his lap instead.

his hand comes down to play with your hair as you talk nonsense. something along the lines of floating on cloud nine.

“maybe next time you come over we could do this before i fuck your brains out.” eddie laughs and watches your face darken.

“you only think of one thing don’t you.” you retort, looking up at him. his eyes weren’t red but they were hazy, dropping as he looked down at you.

“i can’t resist that sweet face of yours, doll.” he smirks, pushing the hair out of your face.

“you know,” you start, rolling to your side, cheek pressed against his jean clad thigh as you admire his face. “i don’t think we need it.” you mumble.

“is that so?” he questions, bringing the hand on your head to down to your exposed cheek. “enlighten me, sweetheart.”

“you fucked me so good that i almost said i love you,”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie stranger things #stranger things #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson imagine #eddie #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x cheerleader!reader #perv!eddie #st #eddie munson st4 #st4 eddie #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #stranger things smut #stranger things 4 #st4

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amaranthdahlia · 1 year

Text

phoenix being the weirdgirl assistant to mias defense attorney 💭💭

ft. lanamia bc lana being mias rival prosecutor (w the power of retcon) fulfills the role of the homoeroticness of defense attorney/prosecutor 🤌🤌🤌

random notes ab this, uh , 'au' ig? (god we fr deserved a prequel game ab this omfg)

•nick is still in his feenie personality but has been slowly growing into his trilogy personality, so like he has a mix of both

•nicks baby blue sweater vest is based on his aa5 concept design bc i wanted to give him a distinct design ykk

•nicks special assistant quirk is that his ' bodily harm luck ' acts as their like uh, last minute plot convenience/hope ? or not rlly last minute but it helps them find vital clues & shit

•nicks potential sprites/mannerisms would be a mix of trucy and mayas :]

•yeah sl-9 incident would be like mias last case instead with the power of rewriting and retcon

•and yeah if this was a game we'd get to have MUCH more insight into mias life in kurain, her venture into being a lawyer, her history with lana, some of her history with diego too. just more mia lore yk !

#I HAD THIS IDEA FESTERING IN ME SINCE AFTER AA3 #I ONLY GOT TO DO IT NOW #I GEN LOVE THIS IDEA SM WE SO DESERVE A MIA FEY: ACE ATTORNEY PREQUEL GAME !!!#MC MIA AND ASSISTANT PHOENIX >>>>>#i wouldve LOVED lana be the rival prosecutor so wed get more info from her #but that wouldve been impossible realistically thinking #but its completely possibly in MY au #ace attorney #gyakuten saiban #mia fey #phoenix wright #lana skye #lanamia #in a way yea !#dahlia.art

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notjustjavierpena · 4 months

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I’ve been going around asking writers for their thoughts on what their character’s aesthetic is. Can you do one for (hubby) javier?

+18

Javier F. Peña is a mix between liquorice and smooth strawberry ice cream. He bites, just a little, but then hits you with almost unbearable sweetness that sticks to your tongue and leaves you wanting more. He is smokes, whiskey, classic bourbon and black coffee. Late starry nights, TV static, leather smell. He is those long hugs that is all arms around your waist, slightly lifting your feet off the ground and then leading into slow kisses. He is the feeling you get when leaves turn yellow and brown, something nostalgic 70-80s, something that feels safe yet dangerous but you know it’s only because he would kill for you, and that’s somehow fine. Javier is a Lana Del Rey song, the sepia filter on your phone, golden age of whatever he is. He is siren eyes and mouth slightly open, hand on the small of your back and fucking you open so slowly that you think that the earth’s rotation may move with how he does and not the other way around. He is top secret files that you cannot help yourself from looking at, even if they’ll burn out your eyes. He is a stupid crystal tumbler. He is romance but not without a certain amount of restraint, carefully picked roses and nothing too pink or you’ll think it’s love. He is deep red or nothing, perhaps army green when he wraps his bullet proof vest around his body. He is lipstick on a gun but also boyish smiles. He is feeling like it’s your first time.

(Omg!!! This was so fucking fun!! Thank you, anon 😭❤️ I hope this was what you had in mind.)

#pedro pascal characters #javier pena smut #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena imagine #javier pena fic #javier pena narcos #javi peña #javi pena #javier peña #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal smut #my writing

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levi501ackerman · 2 days

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Allegiance: Part 1 | Levi x Reader

masterlist

Summary: You're a wealthy citizen from Stohess. When the survey corps are in the city, you can't help but fall for a cute captain.

Word Count: 2.7k

Author's Note: Song correlated: Cola by Lana Del Rey. Okay This is going to have to be multiple parts because it's already pretty long and I'm not even near the end. Posted: 4/25/24

You grew up in a large home never worrying about your next meal and you never cleaned anything yourself. Your parents had people employed to do so. Your family was one of many other families who could afford MPs to guard and escort your family. While growing up, MPs escorted you to school, shops, and friends' homes. You wore clothes that fit you right and were cleaned properly. There was food when you wanted and life was easy for you. Your family required you to attend Einrich College and you got a degree in chemistry. Though they did not care about having you employed they just wanted you to remain a person with higher education. They didn’t mind you living at home and they wanted you to marry a man with a similar background.

You were fortunate enough to be a free-spirited person. You didn’t worry about titans coming to Stohess because of how close to the center your family lived. Most of your time was spent reading, writing, shopping, and being with friends.

One day your father told you the survey corps was coming to the Military Police Head Quarters in Stohess. The family was going to going to be in attendance at the gala. You and your friends grew up thinking highly of the military and the survey corps. They were so brave and cool for going beyond the walls. However, your adoration for the survey corps depleted around the age of twelve. Your parents prohibited you from joining the cadet corp because they wanted you to attend Einrich College.

When you were at the gala you stood by your parents like you usually did. You were polite to everyone your parents introduced to and made small talk with each official your parents knew.

“I want to introduce you to my good old pal Erwin Smith.” Your dad said to your mother and then glanced at you. You followed your mother and father toward a small group of people who didn’t look social. A guy with dark hair caught your eye. He had one hand in his pocket and he sipped his tea cup then put it behind him on the table. He was kind of cute. He noticed you looking at him and you offered a soft smile. He didn’t return one. “Commander Erwin of the Survey Corp!” Your father greeted a blonde-haired older man. To your surprise, he hugged your dad.

“Warren L/N! Long time no see.” Your father and he both had warm smiles. It must have been nice for your father to see a friend from his past.

“Erwin this is my wife, Cordelia L/N.” Your father motioned towards your mother who respectfully held out a handshake.

“Commander Erwin Smith, nice to meet you.” She said sweetly.

“Please I’m just Erwin to you.” Then he looked at you next. All you could do was smile.

“Erwin this is my daughter, Y/N,” Your father said.

“Y/N, nice to meet you,” Erwin said to you and you stuck out your hand like how your mother did.

“Y/N graduated from Einrich College with a degree in chemistry.” Your father said and you felt slightly embarrassed because you hated when your parents explained you didn’t need a job. “She was fairly vested in becoming a scout when she was younger.” You looked at the man with black hair to see his reaction. He was just staring at you. His attractive gaze made it hard for you to look at him any longer than a second.

“I bet you would’ve been a wonderful scout, Y/N,” Erwin said encouragingly.

“Poor girl can’t even run for more than five minutes.” Your father joked.

“That’s not true, father.” You said trying to not sound annoyed in front of the attractive man.

“Chemistry though? You must be easily able to find a secure job.” Erwin suggested and you started feeling embarrassed.

“Oh, she’s smart, but she hasn’t worked a day in her life. Y/N doesn’t need to get a job.” Your mother said lightly but the shame felt heavy. You stayed quiet and couldn’t look at anyone in the eye.

“I’ve been interested in jobs. I just haven’t found anything that interests me.” You said.

“Well, section commander Hange Zoe—” Erwin motioned to the cute woman next to him. “—studies and experiments on captured titans.” Your parents greeted and shook her hand. She seemed fairly inviting and energetic.

“Yes, titans have interested me—” You noticed the man with the dark hair roll his eyes. “—ever since I kicked a head and it was super light! We haven’t done much biological research on the titans. However, any information we collect is one step closer to solving their mysteries!” She said enthusiastically.

“Wow, I didn’t think there was a branch of the survey corp that experimented on the titans.” You said. You could feel the obsession with the survey corp from your youth slightly return. Only if.

“Yup! Just me and my assistant Moblit! We captured many titans!” Hange said.

“Are you looking for another research assistant?” You asked, thinking it could be a great opportunity to be in the survey corps.

“Unfortunately, Hange’s research is only a small part of the survey corps. You would still need to graduate from the Cadet Corp to be Hange’s assistant.” Erwin said earnestly. You looked at your parents who didn’t let you join. Erwin seemed like he understood that you wanted to join if you had the choice.

“Well, I guess I could always join later right? There’s no age limit?”

“You’d most likely be with a bunch of twelve to fifteen-year-olds. Not something you would enjoy.” Your father said.

“But I’d only be with them for three years and then I could make friends with people my age.” You said.

“Captain Levi joined a little unconventionally.” Erwin motioned to the guy with dark hair. Captain Levi. So that’s his name.

“Nice to meet you, Captain Levi.” You said holding out your hand eager for him to touch you. He looked at your hand and then your eyes. Then he shook your hand. Your heartbeat increased a little. “You joined the cadet corps older than the average?”

“Again he joined the survey corp unconventionally. I recruited him because he excelled with the ODM gear by teaching himself.” Erwin said. You had to face the fact that you missed the age to join the survey corp. You realized deep down you wouldn’t enjoy being with twelve-year-olds like your father said.

“Wow, you taught yourself? That’s really impressive.” You said and looked into his eyes. You hoped he thought he found you pretty. “You are all a smart group of people. How long has it been since you last saw my dad, Commander Erwin?”

“Over maybe twenty years?” Erwin turned to your father.

“Huh, time flies.” Your father said.

“Could they come over for dinner, Father?” You asked hoping for more time to get to know the three. “It would give you more time to catch up? And I could get to know more about Hange’s experiments?” Hange’s face lit up and you looked at Levi who had the same expression on his face. “Maybe we could get to know each other more.” You eyed him up and down despite him not seeming to warm up to you. You wanted him to know you found him attractive.

“Why not?! Erwin are you and your officials available to come over and eat before leaving Stohess?” Your Father asked wholeheartedly.

“I think we’ll have time in two evenings,” Erwin said.

“We could have chicken—” Your mother started.

“Mother no! Let’s have braised beef.” You said.

During the rest of the gala, you couldn’t help yourself from glancing at the survey corps. A few times Levi and you locked eyes. You wanted to keep looking at him but remained focused on every one your parents introduced you to. Why did your father have to mention you barely being able to run? Sure you didn’t run much, but you could improve if you worked at it. Now Levi only knows that you have poor stamina. You needed to find a way to make a good impression on Levi. Perhaps a small gift would make him remember you? And you have a day to find one before the survey corp came over for dinner.

The following day, you begged your mom to disregard your intention to interrupt reading time. You wanted to go shopping in town to find something for Levi. When you told your mom about wanting to find a small gift for Levi she teased you. You instantly regretted it, however, she let you miss reading time to go into town. You asked her to promise you that she won’t tell Levi about the gift until you give it to him. Your mother had one condition about going into town. She told you that you had to have MPs escort you.

In your teen years, you’ve argued with your parents that there was no need for the Military Police to escort you. After graduating from Einrich College you were especially adamant about it. Most of the time it was a losing battle.

You combed your hair and made sure it lay nicely. You put on pearls and made sure your clothes looked nice. You put on a nice full-length dress that hasn’t been worn yet. The dress made your hair color look pretty and stand out.

When you were heading to leave you thought you could sneak out the front door without the MPs. Of course, they followed you and you rolled your eyes because your mother assigned two. One would have been enough. The two MPs with you have been the few employed with your family most of your life.

When walking through the shops with the MPs following you, nothing caught your eye for what Levi may like. It was a gamble because you didn’t know much about him. You wanted to find something small and something he could have with him at all times to remember you. You hoped Levi would like the gift and then start falling for you. Though he did not seem like the kind of guy your parents wanted you to marry. He was a high-ranking official for the survey corps though.

When walking out of a clothing shop you spotted Erwin across the street. He seemed to be alone, no Levi or Hange with him

“Commander Erwin!” You waved and then ran after him the MPs shouted at you not to run and they burst after you. “Hi, commander! Are you out shopping? Are you alone?” He seemed surprised to see you and he glanced at the MPs on either side of you.

“Hello Y/N. Nice day isn’t it?” He said politely.

“Yes! Is Levi here?” You asked. “And Hange?”

“They’re nearby. Possibly getting something in that shop over there,” Erwin pointed at a small cafe that you’ve been to many times.

“It’s so nice to see you! I’m excited for you to come over tomorrow. I’m just in town to buy a gift for Levi but DON’T TELL HIM!” You said excitedly.

“A gift?” Erwin furrowed his eyebrows.

“Yes! But please don’t tell him!” You said. He laughed at your youth.

“I won’t.”

“Thanks! I’m going to talk to him and Hange! See you tomorrow!” You waved and dashed off to the cafe along with the MPs being forced to chase after you.

“MISS L/N! STOP RUNNING!” They yelled. When you got to the cafe in the window you saw Levi and Hange inside. They were sitting at a table with a small plate of treats and cups of tea. Your heart raced. Levi looked so cute sitting there. You turned to the MPs you had known most of your life.

“Do I look okay?” You asked.

“Yes, Miss L/N. Please no more running.”

“I’m sorry,” You said. When you walked in the owner who had known you most of your life gave you a big smile when he spotted you.

“Miss L/N! Your usual?” He asked and you saw Levi and Hange looking at you. You waved at them and you grinned.

“Yes thank you!” You walked over to Levi and Hange. Hange looked excited to see you and Levi looked normal. “Hi Hange, hi Levi.”

“Y/N! What a coincidence!” Hange cheerfully said.

“Hi,” Levi said and sipped his tea. They both glanced at the MPs on either side of you.

“Are you drinking the black tea?” You asked. “This place has the best black tea! I’ve come here since I was a child.”

“Yes, it’s good,” Levi said.

“Wonderful!” You said. “I’m excited for you guys to come over for dinner! I know you’ll like the braised beef!”

“What are you doing in town?” Hanged asked.

“I’m out shopping!” Levi rolled his eyes and though you didn’t feel offended, you knew soon he would be grateful for the gift you’re going to find. “Hey, it’s rude to roll your eyes!” You shoved his shoulder playfully yet hard enough to catch him off guard. Hange laughed.

“She got you there, Levi.”

“Yeah Levi, good thing my parents didn’t let me in the cadet corp, I would beat you up.” You said hoping he would laugh. Hange did.

“Not bad for a spoiled brat like you.” He said with a smirk and wiped off his shoulder.

“Hey, I’m not a spoiled brat!” You shoved him a little harder.

“Miss L/N, he’s humanity's strongest soldier.” One of your MPs said chuckling.

“Yeah, well, that’s only because I’m not in the military regiment.” You and Hange laughed. “Are you guys enjoying Stohess? What do you think of the town?” You asked. The owner of the cafe brought over your usual: a chocolate pastry. “Thank you!” Then the kind owner brought over a chair for you to sit on.

“It’s a nice district, very clean,” Hange said. You looked to Levi and raised his eyebrows waiting for a response.

“Very clean is correct.” You found his voice fairly attractive.

“Wonderful! Stohess is one of the districts with great architecture too.” You said. You started splitting your chocolate pastry into three equal parts. “Here try this it’s delicious!” You offered to Hange and Levi.

“Thank you, Y/N,” Hange said and took a bite. She moaned. Levi took a bite too.

“It’s tasty, thank you,” Levi said.

“You liked that? I don’t think it’s hard to make. Maybe I can try to learn to make it for you.” You said with hope and Levi just stared at you. You smiled at him and noticed him looking up and down at you. Your heart skipped a beat because it seemed like he was checking you out. “I’m excited for you guys to come over tomorrow and I can get to know you both more! I’d love to hear more about your experiments with the titans!” Hange perked up.

“Yes, I am ready for any questions you have. Perhaps your knowledge in chemistry will provide some ideas on gathering more information about the titans?”

“Oh I’m not sure about that, but I’ll do my best.” You noticed the door of the cafe open and Erwin stepping in. Suddenly you felt a wave of embarrassment when he looked at you and then at Levi. “Okay, I should get back to my shopping! I’ll see you tomorrow night then?! Bye!”

“Bye Y/N!” Hange said. You rush off with your MPs following you.

“Bye Commander Erwin!” You rushed off not giving a chance for him to speak.

You spent the rest of the day looking for something for Levi. As the sun started going behind the wall it felt hopeless. Nothing seemed like something Levi would like. The MPs suggested making your way back home, but you kept bargaining for just one more store. While walking past a window display of a store, you realized you may have found your gift. It was a little unconventional, but maybe Levi will remember you even when he leaves Stohess. It was perfect he could always keep your gift with him and it was small. Levi will never forget you after you give him your gift.

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xmissrogersx · 2 months

Text

“Cinnamon Girl” | Javier Peña

tags | javier pena x female reader. Fluff. Mental issues. Latina reader.

My writing is entirely my own. Any adaptation and/or copy is forbidden.

I hope you are enjoying my stories! U help me a lot if you give me a ♡! All the love.

The morning at the DEA office was peaceful and undisturbed, oddly enough. Steve and Javier had gone to do an inspection of the center along with most of the staff and I was to take care of the report to present it to Carrillo as soon as possible.

I sighed calmly. It was those moments when I was able to find some peace in spite of what we dealt with on a daily basis. Just me and my background music.

-You almost hit me with the door, you idiot.

Goodbye beautiful stillness, and hello unbridled chaos.

-Hey, Priscilla, would you listen to these recordings I made of the witnesses? I don't understand shit of what they say....

Hello to Steve's requests, who doesn't spend a minute learning Spanish.

It sounded like they had found a massacre at the hands of Escobar based on the commotion that had been going on in a minute.

I nodded biting my lip.

-No problem —I sighed, but now with a bit of trepidation as I looked at the 8 cassettes he had given me. La puta madre.

-Cortez, I need you to transcribe this... —sheets and sheets fell like mountains in front of me.

-What is this? -I asked but I didn't get an answer because I couldn't even see who had done it.

-The report as soon as possible, Cortez —Carrillo walked across the room to his office.-And don't omit the witness statements.

I began to feel short of breath and tried to count mentally, but the hustle and bustle in the office only worsened my condition. Priority list. Yes, that's it. Recordings, notes, report to Carrillo. Recordings, notes, report...

-Hey...

-What?! —I shouted so loudly that the rest of my colleagues turned to see me, or rather to see us.

When I looked up I saw Javier who was in front of me with a frown on his face and the rest of the DEA with their eyes on me. Great, yet another reason to want the earth to swallow me up. Tears threatened to fall down my face. I saw in front of me he noticed and tried to get closer, and I couldn't bear to be seen that way.

So I ran. I ran to the bathroom. How stupid I felt. When I tried to close the door, an arm stopped me.

-Hermosa, let me in —Javier's voice sounded from the other side.

-No...please, I can... —I said breaking on the last word, to which he with a little force opened the door.

I felt I had no strength to defend myself. My hands were shaking and I couldn't stand up, making me feel more embarrassed.

But in a second, I felt how his arms picked me up from the floor to what I supported and clung to his neck, as if he was the only life preserver in the middle of my storm.

-Javi...

-Shh.

The whole office looked at us dumbfounded, but it didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was to concentrate on inhaling Javier Peña's aroma. Cigarettes, whiskey and a slight hint of cinnamon. I smiled foolishly, as I confirmed that he eat’s for breakfast the cookies I left on his desk.

-Finish the report, cabron, she takes the rest of the day. And anyone who has a problem has to deal with me.

Murphy just nodded with a concerned look. I knew he didn't really want to burden me with extra weight.

He drove to the entrance of his apartment, and the moment he got out of the car, he quickly took me back into his arms. At another time I would have complained, but I felt I didn't have the strength to argue with him, and because I loved being carried that way.

He deposited me on the couch letting me lie down and proceeded to take off his bulletproof vest and walked over to me and tucked a lock of hair behind my ear.

-Would you like some tea? -he asked, to which I tried to contain my laughter.

-You never drink tea.

I closed my eyes, letting the tears I had been holding back escape and only Javi acting that way could make them cascade down my cheeks.

-Vida mía, don't cry —he said, kissing my forehead.

-Everyone thinks I'm weak and weepy.

-No, no...

-The whole DEA saw how I ran away, Javi. And not even that I'm an agent, for God's sake, I'm a useless attempt at a journalist who only has to make reports with what others tell her. I have to work twice as hard, since I'm not even allowed to participate in a minimum of one case. I’m useless.

-I didn't know you felt that way —I nodded, staring at the bracelet I had been given for my birthday.

He sat down next to me, then lifted me slightly and sat me on his lap. A silence echoed and as I looked up and saw his thoughtful face. I knew he was debating in his mind.

-This is what we're going to do, you're going to come with me on the next raid we have and you can actually participate, but on the condition that you wear a vest and helmet.

I smiled and pounced on him spreading little kisses all over his face, wishing this moment would last into eternity.

For the first time someone is hugging me without hurting me.

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