#maybe he can eat her before she eats him but...
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Thief - Mattheo Riddle
A/N: Why did I do this? Far too late too be writing there will be no spell check <3
Summary: Mattheo keeps using pick up lines on you. Will they work? That's a different question...
The house isn't mentioned too much, but reader is implied a Gryffindor <3
n/n: nickname
Warnings: Mattheo (he's a warning okay), swearing, mentions of drugs and cigarettes
...
"Are you homework? Because I wanna slam you down on the table and do you." Mattheo smirked, and you nearly choked.
For the past two weeks, Mattheo had been popping out of nowhere to use stupid pick up lines on you. It's become quite alarming, with him dropping smoke bombs on you to appear out of 'nowhere', flying up to your dorm window on his broom, sending a howler... Mattheo Riddle is nothing if not persistent. And it was all started by a conversation you'd been having with Pansy Parkinson a week ago.
...
"-I just don't think they're that bad. Cheesy maybe, but I'd say yes to a good pick up line actually." You said to Pansy, walking to potions together.
"What constitutes a good pick up line though?" She questioned you, giving you a side smile.
"If it makes me laugh, it's good. The perfect combination of cheesy and funny. Most people overdo them. The craft of a perfect pick up line is an art." You replied, fiddling with the straps on your bag.
Mattheo Riddle then brushed past you, dramatically falling to the floor.
"Ouch! I just skinned my knee! Falling for you." He said, smirking.
You stood there, frozen and confused. "What?" You said finally.
"You said you'd say yes to a good pick up line, princess. How was that?" Mattheo said, standing and looking at you with a small smirk playing at his lips.
You laughed. "Come up with an original one and then we'll talk."
"Oh come on! That was original!" He protested, before being smacked over the head by Enzo.
"Liar, I told you that one." Enzo said, rolling his eyes at you with a 'can you believe him?' expression on his face.
You shook your head, smiling before heading to potions with Pansy.
You smiled, shaking your head as you walked with Pansy to Potions.
...
That was how you'd got to the point you were at now, still waiting for Mattheo to come up with a pick up line that didn't make you want to jump off of the astronomy tower.
That was the deal. If Mattheo could make you laugh with a pick up line, you would go on a date with him. If you didn't laugh, he wouldn't be allowed to smoke a cigarette for the rest of the day. So far, it's been 3 weeks of no cigarettes for Mattheo.
...
"Are you homework? Because I wanna slam you down on the table and do you." You nearly choked, resisting the urge to smash a book over Mattheo's stupid pretty head.
You looked to him with a sigh, being met with a shit eating grin.
"That's my favourite so far personally." He said conversationally, opening his Transfiguration textbook.
"That may just be one of the worst." You replied, shaking your head with a smile.
"Yes, and?" He raised an eyebrow.
You rolled your eyes, turning back to your essay. A few other students cast weird looks your way, a Gryffindor and a Slytherin sat together. You paid them no notice, crossing out a few things on your essay.
Mattheo leaned across, trying to look at yours, and you pulled it away.
"Ah ah ah. I know your thieving tendencies, stealing pick up lines from books and people, you're not stealing my Transfiguration notes." You said, glaring playfully.
He rolled his eyes with a small smile playing at his lips.
"Fine. But just so you know, the name for people who can turn into animals is 'Animagi', not 'AniwhatthefuckjustcameoutofRiddle'smouth'.
You glared at him, crossing it out and scribbling over it to make it unreadable.
"When McGonagall asks, I'm blaming you." You said, looking up a definition in your text book.
"Sure. You'll probably find what to say to her under 'I was the recipient of a legendary pick up line.'" He said, gesturing towards your textbook.
You smacked his hand away, and he gasped, recoiling.
"Offended, princess. Offended." He said, putting on an expression of mock offense.
A Ravenclaw boy from your charms class came over, and instantly, Mattheo's guard was up again. He glared at the boy, and the boy, thinking better of it, decided not to disturb you two. You giggled.
"You switch up faster than Snape runs from shampoo." You commented, highlighting a part of your book on merpeople. Mattheo glanced over.
"You know what the little mermaid and me have in common?" He said abruptly.
"Bad grammar?" You guessed. He sighed dramatically.
"We both wanna be part of your world." He wiggled his eyebrows, and you had to bite your lip to keep from crying.
"Mattheo, what crime did I commit to end up in this purgatory?" You said, pinching the bridge of your nose.
"The only crime is your criminal beauty." He said with a smirk. You groaned. "Sorry yn, I'm not good at holding conversations. Can I hold your hand instead?"
"I'm going to cry. Or die." You whispered to yourself.
He laughed. "You'll come around eventually yn. You know, my favourite number is 14, because you're the 1 4 me."
You nearly screamed. "Leave. I'm begging you. Come back later."
"Alrighty, fine. Do you believe in love at first sight or should I come back later?"
You threw a book at his head, which he caught somehow.
"Damn girl, good thing I've got my library card because I'm checking you out."
You glared at him, and, finally picking up on his cue, Mattheo left.
...
It had been a few days since the library incident. Three days of peace. Thank god life isn't Duolingo, because you were about to lose that streak.
A note was slipped onto your desk during history of magic. You looked up, read it, and steadfastly ignored it.
'God damn girl r u a bank loan cuz u got my interest ;)'
Another appeared when you started doodling. 'r u an artist cuz u were so good at drawing me in (✷‿✷)'
that one you actually replied to, flipping over the paper. 'damn boy are you the terms and conditions? Because I don't give a fuck what you say ｡◕‿◕｡' .
When Mattheo received that note back he sighed dramatically, clutching his heart as if you'd mortally wounded him.
A minute later, the note was back on your desk. 'My favourite insect? The butterflies u give me ¯\_(ツ)_/¯'
You groaned, quickly scribbling a response. 'Can you stop for just a few minutes pls I'm trying to pay attention to the history of magic.'
'I may not go down in history but I'll definitely go down on u ;)'
'Azkaban. Now.'
'xx.'
...
The next day, in the Great Hall, you were saying with your friends when Mattheo came over and joined you at the Gryffindor table. You raised an eyebrow.
"Last time I checked, Riddle, your tie was green." You said, smiling slightly.
"It is. I just wanted to see you in the morning. I mean, kiss me if I'm wrong, but the rain is so heavy right now." He said nonchalantly.
You turned to look out of the window.
It was a clear day, with sun shining through a cloudless sky.
You sighed, turning back to him as he gave you a 'what can I say?' look. You shook your head, smiling.
He turned back to your table, looking at the food. "Do you like raisins? How do you feel about a date?" He said, smirking.
You rolled your eyes. "Go back to your own table Riddle."
"Are you my appendix? Because I feel like I should take you out." He replied, smiling slightly.
"Wait what? Is your appendix okay?" You said worriedly.
"Yeah no it's fine, don't worry. Just a pick up line yn, calm down, it won't bite. Just me making jokes about bad health, like 'are you asthma? Because you take my breath away.'" He replied, shaking his head with a small smile playing at his lips.
"Okay..." You said, still slightly concerned.
Mattheo smirked. "Are you my father? Because I wish you were around more." You looked at him, even more concerned than before. "I'm starting to wonder if you need therapy." You said, a small smile playing at your lips.
"I don't need therapy, I just need you to come to dinner with me, because I can't spell menu without me n u." He said, smiling. You very nearly laughed, which didn't go unnoticed.
Mattheo stood up, nodding a goodbye before heading back to the slytherin table, where his friends were not so subtly calling him over.
"She nearly laughed. Shit." Mattheo whispered to his friends. They laughed. "Not funny. I really like her, I wasn't expecting her to nearly laugh. I'm close." He said, mainly speaking to himself.
Theo clapped him on the back. "You're down bad mate." He said, shaking his head. Mattheo sighed, turning to look at you quickly. "Yeah. J am." He admitted.
...
A few minutes later, you stood, heading out into the entrance hall, and were immediately ambushed by Cormac McLaggen. Yippee.
"Your lips look lonely, do they wanna meet mine?" He said, smirking.
"Are you bad WiFi? Because I'm feeling no connection here." You replied, not looking at him and trying to brush past him.
He stopped you, gripping your shoulder and not so gently shoving you back. You adjusted your bag and faced him, looking confused.
"A little too fast to brush me off there l/n." He said, still with that obnoxious smirk. To be fair, all smirks are obnoxious. Well... not all smirks. An image flashed into your mind of a certain slytherin with curly brown hair and chocolate eyes.
You zoned back into the moron stood infront of you, who was now attempting to lecture you on how you should have replied to his pick up line. You zoned out again, until you registered what he was saying.
"-Make it up to me." He finished, and you raised an eyebrow.
"Sorry what?" You said, looking confused.
"You heard me. You'll need to make it up to me, because you just embarrassed me." He said, puffing up his chest with his own importance.
"I don't need to do anything for you, McLaggen. I rejected you, your ego can take it." You said patiently, waiting for it to sink in for him. You attempted to walk away.
Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed the Slytherins leaving the hall. A hand grilled your wrist, painful and harshly. McLaggen glared at you.
"I don't get why Riddle is telling everyone to leave you alone, 'Princess'. You're not even that special, probably just whoring yourself out to the first guy who comes to yo-"
That was all you heard before someone's fist connected with Cormac's jaw, sending him flying to the ground.
You watched in slight horror as Mattheo pummelled McLaggen into the flagstones. Only slight horror though. McLaggen was insufferable.
You watched, frozen, as Mattheo's friends held McLaggen down for him, rather than pulling Mattheo off of him.
Eventually, the teachers arrived and pulled he boys off of McLaggen, whom was now sporting a black eye, cracked teeth, a dented nose and a split lip.
"Nobody calls her that. And only I call her Princess." Mattheo spat.
You were dragged with them to McGonagall's office and told to wait outside.
...
A half hour later, Draco, Theo and Blaise emerged from the office, not looking at all bothered by what just went down. You gave them a sheepish look, and Blaise shrugged.
"We got detention, no big deal." You felt bad, given it was partially your fault.
"I'm sorry you guys got detention." You said sympathetically. They shook their heads.
"It's not your fault, l/n, it's not like you asked us to do anything." Theo said, rolling his eyes, but not maliciously.
"Is Mattheo okay?" You asked carefully, trying to seem nonchalant.
"Wouldn't you like to know." Enzo said, appearing from McGonagall's office with a smirk. Draco elbowed him, and Enzo sighed. "He's fine, but he's got two months of detention, so no more evening study dates/hangouts for you two." He continued, and you blushed.
"They're not dates." You said, shaking your head. Blaise smirked. "You might wanna tell him that. He comes back from the library looking like Cupid was feeling particularly violent."
You rolled your eyes, smiling. "I'm sure you're being dramatic." The boys violently shook their heads.
"Far from. There are Polaroids. Seriously, y/n, I know we're supposed to be his wingmen and make him seem cool and chill, but the reality is that Mattheo is absolutely disgustingly in love with you." Theo stated plainly.
"And it's a pain for all of us when he won't shut up about you (no offence), so do us a favour and go out with him?" Enzo continued, looking at you pleadingly. "Before he realised you didn't want to be talking to McLaggen, he looked like a kicked puppy."
You pictured the image mentally. Damn his stupid pretty brown stupid eyes.
"I can't go out with him until he makes me laugh with a pick up line I haven't heard before." You said, sighing. "If I just go out with him without laughing, he wins! I can't lose to him, I've been so strong all of these weeks." You said, gritting your teeth.
"Are you saying it's been hard for you to turn him down?" Draco said, raising an eyebrow.
"Yes. No. Shut up." You said, hiding your face in your hands and sinking down onto a chair by the door.
"It's okay to like Mattheo, y/n. Sure, he's a massive pain in the ass and he's rude to a lot of people besides you, but you read Twisted Love, you're probably into that." Theodore said, shrugging.
You gave him a look of disbelief. "You know Twisted Love?" Theo blushed faintly.
"I have sisters."
"Anyway guys, I appreciate whatever it is you're doing for Mattheo, but my decision is clear. When he makes me laugh, I'll go out with him." You said, smiling.
"Fine. We'll help him out, because we're rooting for you two." Enzo said, checking his watch. "Don't I know it." You muttered. Enzo smiled. Mattheo emerged from McGonagall's office, looking only slightly like his mood had been dampened. You gave him a small smile.
"You okay Riddle?" His eyes moved to you, and a hint of surprise flickered in them.
"Y/n? Did McGonagall ask you to wait?" He said, confused.
"Actually, y/n is here of her own free will." Enzo cut in, smirking. You blushed, looking down and Mattheo smiled faintly.
"Oh yeah? Going soft on me Princess?" He said, crouching down to force you to look at him.
You looked up and he straightened, still watching you intently.
"In your dreams Riddle." He smiled.
"Actually, you are in my dreams, y/n. You're a recurring dream for me, do you want to make us a reality?" He said, giving you a look.
(I'm sorry I have to insert this, it's this look. This one.)

You smiled. "You know the rules, Mattheo. I laugh, I'll go on a date with you." You said.
He sighed dramatically. "I'm in pain, y/n. Pain. But that is true. And I will be holding you to it." He says, smiling.
"I'd expect nothing less from you Riddle." You fiddled with the sleeves of your sweater.
"Good. Do you mind if I talk to you? Alone?" Mattheo asked, his tone changing to one of slight concern.
You frowned slightly, but nodded. He led you away from his friends, who quickly disappeared off to the Slytherin common room.
Mattheo took a deep breath and turned to you. "Y/n, I know I'm irritating you. I know I'm distracting you, I saw the mark you got on your last transfiguration exam. And I'm so sorry. I'm so fucking sorry. I was distracting you when you tried to revise, and I keep pestering you everywhere, and if you want me just to leave you alone I completely get it." He said, looking slightly mad at himself.
You opened your mouth to talk but he cut you off.
"And I don't want you to feel like you owe me anything, you don't owe me a date, you didn't have to wait for me outside McGonagall's office just because I fought McLaggen for you. You don't have to do anything for me, okay?" He continued, looking away from you.
"I know I don't have to do anything for you Mattheo. I want to." You replied, speaking quietly and hesitantly.
He frowned, raising an eyebrow. "You want to?"
You nodded. "I like your company. I don't mind having you around, it's fun. You're not as bad as I first thought. Actually, you're nothing like what I first thought." You said, trailing off as you saw his smile.
"And what did you originally think I was like?" He smirked.
"Arrogant. Sarcastic. Bit of an asshole." Mattheo shrugged, agreeing with you. "Honestly? I thought that the whole pick up lines thing was a joke for ages." You admitted.
The smile dropped from his face. "A joke? What do you mean?" He said, frowning and trying to meet your eyes.
"You know. Like you were doing it for a dare." He shook his head. "Y/n, I'd never do that. I genuinely do care about you a lot. Merlin, I care about you so stupidly much that I punched a guy. I know that's bad, and I swear I'm not usually violent but he was harassing you. And all I could think was 'no. no no no no no.'" He sighed.
You smiled, taking a step closer. "You're sweet, Mattheo. Kinda cute actually." He raised an eyebrow.
"You think I'm cute?" You blushed.
"no. you must have hallucinated it." You said, shaking your head.
"I mean, I'm flattered y/n. I hope you know CPR, because you're taking my breath away." He said, smirking as you stepped closer to him. You giggled slightly, before realising.
Mattheo's eyes widened. "You laughed. You laughed at my pick up line. The one I came up with literally a second ago." You smiled.
"Maybe I did. What does that mean Riddle?" You said, stepping closer.
"It means you should go on a date with me. But you don't have to if you don't want to, okay?" He said, smiling down at you.
"I want to." You said. Mattheo exhaled slowly, stepping closer. His hands came to rest on your hips, not moving. He gave you time to push him away, but you didn't, so his hands stilled.
"You want to?" He repeated, making sure.
You nodded. "Mhm. It's why I've gone along with this for so long." You giggled, as his forehead uncreased and he relaxed slightly, before quickly lifting you up and spinning you around.
You laughed as he put you back down, noticing the lack of space between you. Your eyes flickered to his lips, which didn't go unnoticed.
Mattheo's eyes landed on your lips, and then returned to your eyes. There was so little distance between you two.
You nodded slightly, registering his silent request. "Mattheo..." You whispered. That was it for him. His lips crashed into yours, one hand cupping your face and the other resting on your hip.
You kissed him back, letting him gently back you into a wall, hand moving to the back of your head to keep you comfortable.
Eventually, you both pulled back for air, slightly breathless. You smiled, and he brushed some hair out of your eyes.
"Be mine?" He said in a low voice, practically begging you.
"I'm already yours." You whispered back to him, letting him kiss you again.
This kiss lasted less time than the first, but was still beautiful.
"But we're still going on that date right?" You asked, smiling.
"Wouldn't have it any other way, princess." He replied, smiling as he rested his forehead against yours.
A flash went off, and you turned to see Theodore and Colin Creevey. Theodore took the photo from Colin, smirking. "Mattheo, you're a fucking simp."
"Damn right." Mattheo replied, smiling slightly at you.
...
A/N: My first actual Mattheo fic! Doesn't make sense, seeing as he's my favourite slytherin boy. Anyway, I feel like I'm horrible at writing kiss scenes, so lemme know if it was too cringy or smth like that! Thnx for reading<333
#harry potter#slytherin#slytherin boys#slytherins#slytherin boys headcanons#slytherin boys fluff#lorenzo berkshire#theodore nott#don't even ask#mattheo riddle headcanon#mattheo riddle x you#mattheo riddle fluff#mattheo riddle x reader#mattheo riddle#mattheo x y/n
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𔓕 ່ ⃝⃝🧡 𝐂𝐇𝐑𝐈𝐒 𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐁𝐅 𝐖𝐇𝐎 : 𓈒 𝇋♡︎𝇌
ೀ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲. Random situations of Chris being your boyfriend.
ೀ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭. Mentions of sexual relations, insults, established relationship, appearances by Nick and Matt, video format, daily life.
ೀ 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬. I don't speak English. The truth is that I wrote this with loose ideas, maybe we will have a second part, I don't know. I leave you a link below in case you liked what you read 𝑚.𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡
WHEN THEY LEAVE THE SHOPPING HE WOULD CARRY YOUR BAG.
"You look great" Chris looks at Matt and blows him a kiss.
“Thank you sweetie” Chris makes a silly pose with your bag.
"You're so gay," Nick scoffs.
"Stop shaking my bag" You ask your boyfriend.
HE LOVES THAT YOU CARESS HIS HAIR. AND YOU HAVE USED THIS TO YOUR ADVANTAGE MANY TIMES.
"Chris!!" You approach him jumping happily.
"Before you speak: no, I don't have, I don't want to and I can't" he jokes and you make a cute pout.
"I really need it, I've been waiting for this moment all my life" Chris rolls his eyes for a few seconds and you show him the screen of your cell phone.
"That? A concert?" He looks at you and you nod repeatedly, then drop your body onto the couch next to him and snuggle around his arm. while he holds your cell phone by sliding his finger on the screen. "Zayn? Is he giving a concert? I thought he was on his damn farm tending to a potato," he joked.
"He's back and you know how much I want to see him."
"I know, but it's impossible, I have a full agenda. We can see it next year." Chris gives you a kind smile.
"Chris we don't know if he will be back next year! Please!" Chris still refused, you have nothing left but to use your fire tool, Your nails dig into your boyfriend's disheveled hair and you see him close his eyes enjoying the caress.
"We could talk to the boys and go all together, we'll enjoy it" you continue sweetening Chris with your caresses.
"Okay, let's talk to them" upon Chris's approval you stop petting him and run in search of the boys.
HE ALSO ENJOYS RECEIVING AND GIVING YOU MESSAGES ON YOUR FEET.
You may be lying on the couch enjoying a lazy afternoon watching movies on Netflix.
At some point he would leave his feet within reach of your hands and ended up giving him some gentle massages.
HE DOESN'T LIKE SILLY COUPLE NICKNAMES, BUT HE'LL CALL YOU "MA" OR SIMPLY BY YOUR NAME.
"Chris said many, many, many, but exaggeratedly many times" Nick adjusts his glasses "he said many" Chris interrupts him.
"I think it was understood"
"Well, he's said many times that he wouldn't call his future girlfriend stupid nicknames." Chris and Matt understood where Nick was going.
"Yes, yes, yes" Matt sits back in his seat to look at his brothers. "We've heard Chris say many times that he wouldn't use ridiculous nicknames with his girlfriend and he literally now."
"He calls her MA!" Nick shouts and fake laughs.
"It's not ridiculous and it's not like that, it's not stupid" Chris exluss.
"You don't know how funny it is when we wake up and the first thing I hear is saying 'good morning ma' it's so stupid."
"Hey!" Chris shouts.
"You haven't heard anything bad, I heard him talking to her like a baby, Chris sounds something like... Oh, I really need you to give me affection" the three of them burst into a big laugh.
MOSTLY HE IS THE ONE WHO CHOOSES ABOVE ALL, YOU JUST TRUST HIS CHOICE.
"What are you going to order?" Nick asks you as he sticks his head out the window.
"Huh, I don't know... Same as Chris."
"You don't even know what he's going to order." Matt stretches and looks at you in the rearview mirror.
"What are you going to order then Chris?" Nick looks at his brother.
"Pepsi, a double burger, medium fries, you know," he shrugs, before Nick repeats the order and speaks again. "The hamburger should not have onions"
"Since when have you not eaten onion?" Matt asks with a slight frown.
"She doesn't eat onions" he points to the seat behind him, in your direction and you smile.
PHYSICAL CONTACT IS THEIR LOVE LANGUAGE. ESPECIALLY THE HUGS.
Chris has said that he is not a demonstrative man, but you don't feel that is the case. Every time he can he is adding your hands and playing with your fingers or just giving you little caresses.
"I don't think that's true," says Madi.
"I'm telling you, yes, I read it in the news." Matt moved his fingers over the screen of his cell phone looking for the news he was talking about.
"Check the history," you suggest to Matt..
You had your hands on the table while you were talking animatedly with the boys, Chris was next to you playing with the chain that decorated his left wrist.
"Look there it says clearly" Matt brings his cell phone to his friend showing her the news.
You laughed cheerfully as Chris's hand took one of your hands to play with. You smile and give him a small friendly squeeze, he intertwined your hands, then patted, tried to hold one of your fingers, among other strange things he did.
On other occasions where perhaps he wanted to be more discreet, such as when he was at his parents' house or yours, he just slid his hand under the table and left it on your thighs.
"Your aunt has mentioned countless times that she makes pudding even tastier than mine, can you believe it?" Your mother was talking to you while she was preparing tea to drink.
"That's impossible, I had the pleasure of trying the pudding you made and it is exquisite, there can't be a better one." Chris compliments your mother and she turns to look at him and says "I know" making them both laugh.
Chris's hand sought your touch under the table, leaving his hand on your thigh and then pulling you closer to him to give small squeezes from time to time.
Although he had many signs of physical affection, the one that stood out the most were his beautiful hugs. Chris's hugs were magical, they recharge you with abundant good energy. They make you feel renewed.
"Good morning ma" you hear your boyfriend speaking at your side of the bed.
Your eyes slowly open and you can see him smiling. You push your way through the sheets to be greeted by his arms in a warm embrace.
"Hmh Chris..." You murmur. "I told you that if you are going to sleep without your shirt, cover yourself well with the sheets." the top of his chest was freezing, then you'd have a sick Chris from taking in cold air.
"I'm sorry ma"
Hugs in the morning are essential to have a good start to the day, but they weren't the only ones. While you are preparing something to eat, he hugs you from behind, When you're in the bathroom getting ready, he also gives you your dose of hugs. He's actually very good at giving hugs.
HE HAS NO PROBLEM TELLING YOU HOW HE FEELS ABOUT YOU, HE IS VERY COMMUNICATIVE. EVERYTHING THAT GOES THROUGH HIS HEAD HE LETS YOU KNOW.
"Which of the three do you think is the most sentimental?" Chris read the question for his brother Justin.
"Hmm, none of them are exactly sentimental, but at the same time they are all a little bit."
"I consider it to be me" Nick speaks.
"I'm going to answer that maybe Nick..." He thinks. "Also Chris" looks at his brother.
"Chris?" Matt asks confused.
"Yeah, he's always making a sentimental moment out of nowhere, speaking from his heart and stuff like that. Even lately when his girlfriend is around he's telling her how much he appreciates having her in his life... You know, I don't know if it's because now he has a partner and it makes him twice as sentimental."
"It's true," Nick agrees.
"I, I consider myself to be" Chris brings the microphone closer to his mouth. "I'm actually not ashamed to say how I feel about her in front of someone else, I feel like the fact that I am like that makes our relationship more stable. Because we are very communicative with each other" he explains and his brothers congratulate him on their beautiful relationship.
"Tell him something now," Matt challenges and Chris smiles in amusement.
"Listen, right now I miss you a lot. I really want to see you so I can hug you for a long time and tell me how your day was. Remember that I love you very much and you are the girl of my life" He finishes the message and his brothers applaud excitedly.
HE DOESN'T ADMIT IT BUT HE LIKES IT WHEN YOU STYLE HIS HAIR OR WHEN YOU DO SKINCARE TOGETHER.
"IT'S BURNING ME!!" He screams when I put a mask on his face.
"Chris is a cucumber mask" she adjusted the corners of the mask while he complained.
"Why is yours pink?" He sits down in front of you and you laugh.
"Because it's made of a different material, yours is green" you point out.
"I prefer orange." He takes the comb and runs it through your hair. "Why is your hair straight today?" Chris used a confused tone of voice.
"Apply a product to keep it straight" you explain and he continues running the comb through your long hair.
"It looks good, but I like your naturally curly hair" you smile and break the distance between the two of you by joining your lips.
You take the comb out of his hand and now you are the one combing his hair.
"Will you let me make you a crazy hairstyle?" Chris I agree and you start tying his hair with little rubber bands.
The door to the room opens and you both look in its direction, finding you mother watching.
"You guys look ridiculous" the three of them laugh.
CHRIS IS TOO HARD IN BED, IT'S NOT HIS VANILLA, ROMANTIC STYLE. ALTHOUGH SOMETIMES HE AGREES TO BE IT FOR YOU.
“It’s so boring” Chris pulls his head back to look at you.
His body was lying between your legs, while you were sitting. They were both enjoying a good movie, but then a sex scene comes out.
"They're fucking, what do you mean?" You're mocking.
"That's boring sex," says the screen. "It should be called super boring sex"
"Just because your style of sex is holding me by the hair while you're giving me hard from behind, doesn't mean that that type of sex is fun." He stretched his hair, forcing him to look at me again. He bites his lip.
"I just think our style is a little more interesting” he smiles and you lean in to kiss him.
"You have to admit that sometimes soft sex is nice."
"We never did" you click your tongue denying Chris's words. "We did it?"
"Did you forget?" you pretend to be offended.
"I know, on your birthday. But I just wanted to make you feel more... I don't know, I wanted to be something romantic I guess"
"You were, I didn't expect you to be. I like the surprise" you stroke his hair.
CHRIS IS THE KIND OF BOYFRIEND WHO WANTED TO BE IN A RELATIONSHIP SOLELY TO WEAR A MATCHING HALLOWEEN COSTUME.
"Today we're going to go see our Halloween costumes" Nick speaks excitedly towards the camera in front of him. "We were talking seriously about this, you know, it's very important."
"I still don't know what I want to use." Matt looks at Nick and Nick looks at him seriously. "You're an Idiot"
They arrived at the place and were walking through the hallways full of different costumes. Matt was holding the camera as it focuses on Nick and Chris looking at some.
"It's packed," Chris comments and grabs a crazy hat to put on his head. "I'm kind of excited, I've always wanted to have a girlfriend to wear a complementary type of costume, I think it's actually the only logical reason why I wanted to have one" He takes off his hat and leaves it where he found it.
"Chris has literally said hundreds of times that he didn't want to have a girlfriend, but if he did want one it would be to wear a silly matching suit." Nick adds, still appearing next to Chris.
"It's true" Chris continues looking at the suits. "So today is the day to wear a fun outfit with y/n."
"I hope it's SpongeBob and Patrick" Matt speaks behind the camera and Chris looks at him excitedly.
"Definitely not, they are best friends," says Nick. "It would be weird to see SpongeBob stick his tongue in Patrick's Throat ."
CHRIS LOVES IT WHEN THEY SHOWER TOGETHER.
"No Chris"
"Please, it will be faster if we do it together" Chris begs you.
The situation was the following, you were taking a shower because this afternoon they were going to have a good time at the mini golf. Chris always complains that you take too long in the bathroom, so he says it's much better if you do it together.
Things that you know very well are not like that, they are in the shower even longer if he comes in with you.
"Chris, we really have to get there early," you explain as the hot water slides over your soapy body.
"I just like doing it with you." Chris sits on the toilet seat.
You sigh for a few seconds and agree to let him take a shower with you.
PACIFIERS AREN'T HIS STYLE, BUT LET'S JUST SAY HE SOMETIMES LEAVES SOME BEHIND.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" You ask your boyfriend, who has been staring at you since you got out of the shower.
You walk past him combing your hair. Now you are in front of him waiting for him to answer you.
"It's nothing, I just have a pretty girl by my side" he smiles. "So, who did you say were going to that high school reunion?" You sigh heavily knowing that you had already had this conversation yesterday.
You had a small reunion with your former high school classmates, absolutely everyone would be there. You had mentioned this to your boyfriend and he was not very comfortable with you attending, especially because your ex would be there and he couldn't go since he had to record with his brothers.
They had a little argument about not going and it ended in a lot of heated sex.
"We already talked about this Chris, don't worry. "I'll just have dinner and come back, I won't stay for the party, I'll most likely be here at home when you get back from recording." You give him a quick kiss on the lips.
"It's okay, you look pretty" you model your outfits for him..
"Thank you" you approach the mirror and then you see it, those bruises decorating your neck. You turn around looking at the culprit. "What is this?"
"I didn't do it right, we should do it again" he jokes.
YOU ALWAYS BUY HIM SNACKS SO HE CAN EAT WHEN IT'S TIME TO FILM IN THE CAR.
"We have no topic of conversation in this video..." Matt starts the video talking.
"Yeah, we didn't do our homework this week," Nick continues.
Chris takes a chocolate bar out of his sweatshirt pocket, Matt and Nick look at him and they both extend their hands in Chris' direction.
"Absolutely not, I'm not going to share" he stretches his chocolate away from his brothers.
"Every food that enters this car becomes everyone's food," Nick tells him.
"Y/n bought this one for me" he breaks it up and gives it to his brothers.
"Since when does she buy you candy?" Nick asks, devouring his share of chocolate.
"Since Matt made the chocolate prank on me" Matt laughs at his brother. "Since then she buys me snacks so I can eat during the videos"
"She's so sweet" Nick says. "Y/n would love you even more if you gave me snacks too" he speaks into the camera to send the message to you, he winks and sticks out his tongue.
"Stop flirting with me girl." Chris punches Nick in the arm.
"Ou, ou, ou, Ouch. HEY! STOP! I'M GAY!" Nick shouts.
ೀ 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬. I hope you like it, thank you for reading, don't leave without first giving me a like and a nice comment. Don't forget to share with your friends! And remember if you want to be part of the taglist to receive a notification every time I publish a fic, ask me in the comments! That's all for now, goodbye! 🤍
ೀ 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭. @luverboychris @l34n @sturncakez @imwetforyourmom @hotreaderliin @tillies33ssss @sturnioloxlver @jnkvivi @stvrniolowh0re @adirtylittleheart @ilovechrisssturniolo-deactivate @melonjollyranche @sssoniaswiftt @ecliphttlunar @jetaimevous @khxna @aliceloveschris
#﹙𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬. 𝐒﹚🦌 ，#sturniolo triplets#੭ 🤍 ! 𝓈#christopher sturniolo#chris sturniolo#matt sturniolo x reader#matt sturniolo#matt sturniolo x you#matt sturniolo smut#matt sturniolo fanfiction#chris sturniolo fanfic#matt sturniolo fluff#chris sturniolo fluff#nick sturniolo#chris sturniolo smut#sturniolo#chris sturniolo x reader#chris sturniolo soft#chris sturniolo x you#christopher sturniolo x reader#christopher owen sturniolo#matt sturniolo fanfic#matt sturniolo imagine#matthew bernard sturniolo#matthew sturniolo#nicolas sturniolo#sturniolo fanfic#sturniolo imagine#sturniolo triplets smut#sturniolo fluff
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Let Your Hair Down
Hello and welcome to the second part of Put Your Records On!
I think you’re realllly gonna enjoy it 🪩😈
Check out our Patreon for early access and 170+ exclusive writings!
WC- 3.6k
Warnings- exhibitionism, unprotected sex, it's dirty and I know ya'll eat that up
Being pulled into a bathroom stall with Harry Styles was the last thing Y/N would have ever imagined, but here she was. The man pressing her against the wall with his hand up the slit of her dress, a soft moan leaving her mouth as his nimble fingers found her clit with little problem. Maybe Harry had done this often, or he was just naturally gifted to know a woman’s body, but she didn’t care. For the first time in a long time, she felt really fucking good.
“Fuck.” She whimpered, feeling lips drag down her neck. Her own hand reached between them to cup over his cock, his own noise of pleasure vibrating her as she felt him. It got a gasp from her, the fucking size of it against her palm. He was big. Big in the way she’d not experienced, and thick. Immediately she knew that she needed to feel it better, to take him inside of her and let him do whatever the fuck he wanted as long as she got to experience it. “You’re so big.” The words were higher pitched, Y/N panting as she felt a finger slip into her.
“I know, sweetheart.” He cooed. “I’ll make sure you can handle it.” Y/N was sure he would. Nothing about him even hinted at the fact that he’d do anything but make her feel incredible. “Hate that you’ve had t’deal with little dicks and people who don’t know how to use them. Makes me sick thinking of them wasting such a pretty girl’s pussy.” His mouth was filthy, she was finding out. Thank god. He didn’t know how badly she needed a proper fuck, one where she’d be thinking about it for days after. Her purse had so thoughtfully been hung up on the back of the stall door, the empty bathroom full of the muffled music and their kisses.
“Haven’t felt good in so long.” She admitted, grinding her cunt into his hand. “Make me feel good, please. Need it, need you.” Who the fuck cared if she sounded desperate? She was. SO fucking desperate that she was allowing him to fuck her here because she couldnt wait. He’d offered to take her to his place but she couldn’t wait that long to be touched.
“I will, needy girl. Promise. M’not like those other guys…Gonna make sure you cum for me.” Harry was on a mission, it seemed. His palm smacked against her clit as he added another finger, making her whimper into the air. Teeth scraped against her neck as his free hand tugged the straps down of her dress, revealing her bare breasts. “Fuck me, you little minx. Look at you.”
Harry was in awe of her, how pretty she was. How perfectly she fit into his hands, how she looked just like what he’d dreamed about- if not better. He couldn’t help himself, leaning his head down and pressing sloppy kisses to the curves of her tits before taking a nipple into his mouth. The reward was feeling her pussy pulse around his fingers, her hand in his hair as he lapped at her breast. The swollen little nipple was taken lightly between his teeth as he sucked, making her keen. Sure, he was a bit drunk , but he would never be able to forget this. She made such pretty noises, tasted so good on his tongue, and her cunt was vice tight around his fingers. Thankfully she was more than wet, making a mess on his fingers as he fucked them into her needy little hole.
Y/N’s eyes closed as her head leaned against the wall. The man was bent slightly, sucking at her tits and making her close to cumming just from that. It had been ages since she’d orgasmed from fingering, and nipple play hadn’t always done much for her but the way Harry was doing it, she’d never felt something more erotic in her life. “H-Harry, please.” She pleaded. “I want you inside me. Fuck me, I need it.” As much as the woman wanted to test out his mouth, she was gagging for his cock. “I’ll suck you another time, I promise I just…” A sniffle left her. “I feel empty. I need more.”
Instead of being offended, he hissed as he pulled away from her breasts. A string of spit that connected his lips to them broke as he rose back to full height, standing over her as his fingers fucked into her and scissored slightly, making her cling on to him. “Fingers aren’t enough for you, I know. Just needed to get you stretched.” His nose brushed hers as he took her for a sloppier kiss. “Tiny cunt wouldn’t be able to take it otherwise. Still have my doubts…” The faux pout made her whine.
“I can, I can take it. I promise.” She swallowed, looking up at him in desperation. “Make it fit, please. I just want it in me, don’t care if it hurts.” It was true. Y/N would even like it if it hurt a little, as long as he got himself inside of her. “
“You sure, baby?” He taunted, watching her eyes glaze over as his fingers fucked into her harder. The sound was sloppy and filthy, knowing how wet she was getting for him, but he lived for shit like this. Loved that he finally got to meet Y/N and do the things he’d been thinking about for months. She was just his type. “I really don’t know if such a tight hole can take my cock, no matter how sopping wet it is.”
“I can.” A mix of the desperation and drunkenness made her eyes water. “Give it to me, please. I’m begging you, fuck me. I’ll be so good for you, you can cum in me- I’m, birth control.” Her words stuttered as she pleaded with him. Harry cooed at her, clicking his tongue at the way she was losing it.
“Oh, sweet little thing. No need to cry yet. I’ll be nice and give it to you.” He promised. “Undo my trousers for me.” This was quite possibly the most irresponsible thing for him to do and he knew it. Taking a girl he’d had a crush on into the bathroom at an after part and fucking her raw was something that would make his manager burst blood vessels, but he didn’t care. All he wanted was her snug cunt wrapped around him as he fucked her, he wanted to empty his balls in her and let her feel it drip down her thighs as they left the bathroom.
The girl was obedient, taking his pants down to find a lack of briefs on him too. Harry’s knack for not wearing underpants had struck again, but this time it was a positive. Her smaller hand wrapped around him, stroking as their mouths buttoned together again, Harry letting out a grunt as her thumb rubbed over his weepy slit. He knew he’d been attracted to her for a while but having her hands on him now was sending him into overdrive. His hand curled around her throat as he moved his hips, fucking himself in her hand and licking into her mouth, desperate for more of her taste.
There was only so much he could take, though. If he had it his way, they wouldn't be rushed, but considering it was a public restroom and there was a chance of getting caught he was aching to get inside of her. “You like to listen to directions?” Harry did love a person who was just as willing to please as he was. Being worshiped and doing the worshiping were both things he loved, but it was nice to see someone pine for him. There was a reason he loved his job as much as he did.
“Sometimes.” Her eyes blinked up at him slowly, allowing his hand to slide up and his still wet fingers into her mouth. The man rubbed them over her tongue, pulling them out slowly before pushing back in. Y/N listened very well to directions so far, even if her eyes twinkled with the mischief he’d be happy to explore with her. The way she was sucking his fingers clean was a clear indication on how well they get along.
“I do love a bit of a challenge, but tonight I need you t’be good for me. We’ve got to be quick which…” He breathed out as she dragged her thumb over his slit again. “Is a shame, considering I want to spend hours on you. But since you seem so keen on trying to take me, m’gonna let you try.”
Y/N hummed against his digits, real disappointment painting her features as he finally tugged them out. It was embarrassing to admit how much she’d liked doing that, fucking him with her hand and sucking on his fingers, seeing the dark glint in his gaze. But she wanted him in any way she could, and she wasn’t about to refuse him. “I can take it. You’ll make it fit.”
A low growl echoed in the room as he placed his hands under her thighs, adjusting her dress to be pushed open before picking her up. It took her by surprise, the girl squeaking and wrapping her arms around his shoulders as she was suddenly lifted and pinned against the wall but- fuck. Fuck, this was hot. She went to say just that, but he beat her to it. “Need you to try and be quiet for me, okay?” His lips pecked hers, far more chaste and sweet compared to the other kisses. “M’gonna make sure you feel good.” With her body snug against the wall and her legs around his hips, he released a thigh to guide himself to her entrance.
In all her sex experiences, she couldn’t recall being this excited. Feeling him rub the tip through her slit, she was nearly buzzing in anticipation. The help of the alcohol reduced her nerves thankfully, because if she was sober she’d be losing her mind about him holding her up- but right now, all she could think about was the press of his head breaching her hole.
He was right. He was big, almost too much so, but Y/N liked the feeling. They’d been feeding into something dirtier with that talk, but her sharp intake of breath made the man pause, looking at her for any sign to stop. “I know, sweetheart. It’s a lot. Do you want me to stop?”
“No, please don’t.” Her eyes widened. “No, I need it. Just- just push more in. I’m okay.” She wasn’t lying. Yeah, it did hurt a little but she could already feel herself adjusting. Going slow was just prolonging the pain. “It’s just been a while.”
Harry liked the sound of that. Being the one to break her dry spell was an honor. “That’s alright.” He nuzzled his nose against hers as he let himself push further in. “Think you’ve just got a snug little cunt that’s needed a proper fuck. M’sorry it took us so long to meet.” It really was a shame. “Could’ve fixed this problem so much sooner.”
In all truth, Harry had a feeling he’d end up in a situation like this with Y/N. He’d had a crush for a while, sure, but he was ruthless when it came to the people he wanted to pursue, even if it didn’t seem like it. If it had been any other events in the last few months he’d have blown them off, but fate really did make them wait until now to indulge in one another- and he’d make sure that it wasn’t the last.
“There we are, baby. Just let me in.” He coaxed, feeling her engulf him. “Almost there. M’so proud of you for taking it all. Know it isn’t easy, but you feels so fucking good wrapped around me.” Perfect for him, really. Hot, tight, slippery, hugging him the way he’d needed, he finally got all the way inside before grinding up into her. Y/N was at her limit, thankful he wasn’t a millimeter bigger otherwise she truly couldn’t have taken it- but this was perfect.
“Please, go ahead.” She pleaded, threading her fingers through the hair at the bottom of his neck. “Fuck me, I know you can give me what I need.”
And hell, he was up for the challenge.
There was no way to describe how it felt between them. Electric, maybe? Erotic? His deep thrusts as he began to truly fuck into her, the sound of her wet cunt being thrust into and her muffled moans echoing off the stall walls, it felt like cloud nine. Her hair was a wreck behind her and she knew it, but there wasn’t a care in the world other than getting her fill of Harry.
He was watching her with an intensity that she couldn’t match to anything else. Maybe it was just a part of his personality, that intent stare and all of his attention being on the person he was with, but having him watch her every move, every shift of her lips, it made her even more aroused. Her head rolled back, resting against the wall as he bounced her on his cock, reveling in the feeling of being filled up over and over again.
Harry himself, he was trying his hardest not to orgasm too early. He was fucking her raw, feeling every inch of her silky cunt sheath around his bare cock with every movement. God, she was so wet and hot on his skin, and he knew he’d be thinking about this night for the rest of his life. There was no way he could let this be a one and done with how he was feeling. “You’re perfect.” He whispered, lips finding her exposed neck as he did the work for them. Feeling her fingers tug slightly at his hair only fueled him further. “Feel so fucking good, making a mess on my cock. Gonna make me walk out there with my cock wet in my pants, hm? Dripping down to my balls, gonna smell like you all night.” And he’d enjoy every single second of it. If it wasn’t gross, he’d spend the next few days with her smell on him.
Maybe he’d just have to talk his way into having her come over and roll all over his sheets so her scent could linger.
“Yeah.” She answered with a whimper. “And I-I want your cum dripping out of me when we walk out.” Y/N didn’t know where she found the guts to say that, but she had a hunch it was a mix of the lemon drops and Harry’s cock deep in her tummy. “No one’s gonna know but I will. I’ll feel it the whole time.”
The words had him working faster, harder. It was hard not to get even more frenzied when she said that shit out loud, the thing he’d been hoping for all night. “Fuck, m’gonna give it to you. I’ll give you every drop.” His teeth grazed her neck, not thinking clearly as he pulled the skin into his mouth and sucked harshly. He heard her gasp, her fingers finding more of his hair and pushing him further into her neck. So he did it again, a bit further up as he held her still and fucked up into her. Completely entangled in each other, this was the best he’d ever felt at an after party and there were doubts it could get much better than this.
Y/N had a thing for love bites, but she’d never expected Harry to go for that. Feeling the sting of it while he fucked her pushed her closer to her orgasm, the feeling of her clit rubbing against his torso and his cock digging right into her, it was hard to keep from moaning louder than she should have.
Harry didn’t really care if they got caught anymore. The thrill of it was hotter than hell, someone walking in and finding out he was fucking the prettiest new IT Girl in the bathrooms after winning awards. A celebratory fuck and the beginning of something he was very excited to continue. Her moans stuttered as his thrusts punched into her, legs tightening around him as he licked over the tender spots on her neck.
“Harry, Harry- oh my god, you’re gonna make me cum.” She tried to whisper but failed. How could she care about volume when she was having the best fuck of her life?
“Good, that’s what we want. Isn’t it?” He hummed, hands tightening on her thighs while he continued his pace. It could be felt on his prick, every little quiver of her hole as she got closer and closer to the edge. “Don’t have to worry about not finishing when you’re with me. If we had more time you’d have at least t-three.” His own words stuttered as he could feel the heat crawling up his stomach and his balls tightening. “Do it for me, pretty girl. Cum all over my cock, want t’put it away wet. Don’t you? Cum for me.”
Y/N did, she wanted to make sure she gave him what he wanted. His words encouraging her, his lips kissing under her hear tenderly, his cock hitting her where she needed, her swollen clit rubbing against his torso over and over again, she couldn’t help it. As hard as it had been in her other situations, Harry made it so fucking easy to get to that point, whimpers leaving her throat as he talked her through her orgasm.
“There we go, that’s my girl. Fuck, you’re drenching me. Feels so good, you’re doing so fucking good.” He felt it as she came, a light gush making him even more wet. A hiss left his teeth, holding her body as it got a little weaker. “Oh, that’s what we needed. You’re perfect. I’m gonna give you e-everything I have.”
Y/N was hazy but she managed to nod, pressing their lips back together with the remaining strength she had left. His thrusts became sloppy as he groaned into her mouth something that resembled her name, repeating it three times before he let out a broken “fuck’. She could feel it inside of her, the hot cum pulsing inside of her and making her moan in response. It felt incredible, being filled like this. His cock working it into her, the heat added to the end of her orgasm as he worked through his.
“That’s perfect, H.” She whispered to him, stroking the nape of his neck and over his shoulders. “You’re so beautiful. I feel so good, you-you’re amazing.” It wasn’t her best work, but her brain felt like it had melted a bit. The man was responsive to the praise though, letting out a whine of his out before his hips stilled. The kisses continued but it was hard when they were both panting, smiles making it more difficult as she let out a giggle that was followed by his own. Standing there with his cum coated prick wasn’t how he imagined he’d end his evening, but he’d never been happier.
“Shit.” She exhaled, head dropping back as his own rested against the side of hers. It was quiet for a few moments before he turned his lips to her cheek, peppering a few kisses there as they caught their breath. “So that’s what bathroom sex is like. And a penetrative orgasm.”
Harry burst into his own little laugh at her words, lifting the sensual mood into a sweeter one. His eyes were lighter as he looked at her, a fond smile on his swollen lips. “Yeah, darling. Somewhat. Bathroom sex isn’t always as good as that, but I think it’s good for us.” It was hard to concentrate even still, seeing how gorgeous she was. How he’d been lucky enough to be allowed to touch her so intimately was a mystery to him, but he was more than thrilled about it. “D’you want it to happen again?”
“Mmmm.” Pretending to thing, she laughed at his offended face. “I’d love to. Made a mess on you, you should know how good it was for me.” Brushing the hair out of his face, she wiped a bit of her lipstick from the corner of his lips. He was a bit of a mess, would definitely need a wet wipe to his neck and lips, but it was beautiful. Seeing him freshly fucked was a new favorite. “So, yeah. I would. But perhaps a bed or couch, even a kitchen counter. Don’t want to kill your back by doing this too often.”
“I’d happily fuck it up if it meant a repeat of that.” He scoffed. “C’mere.” Harry couldn’t stop kissing her, and hopefully he wouldn’t have to. A happy exhale left his nose as he pressed repetitive kisses to her mouth, making her giggle- but the moment was interrupted by the bathroom door swinging open and two very drunk, very loud girls walking in.
“I heard Harry Styles was here but I haven’t seen him.” one of them huffed, making Y/N roll her lips together to stop from laughing.
“I know. God, he’s gorgeous isn’t he? But he was hanging out with Y/N, and that makes me nervous. She’s fucking stunning too. I’d like a go with both of them.”
#jarofstyles#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles one shot#harry styles fanfic#harry styles smut#harry writing#harry styles imagine#harry drabble#harry styles blurb#harry styles writing#harry styles au#harry styles fanfictions#harry styles fluff
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All In 7
No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.
Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, power imbalance, low self esteem, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: you meet a mysterious man on a night out with your sister. (petite!reader)
based on the winning option for this poll
Characters: casino owner!Bucky Barnes
Note: another week...
As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.
Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.
I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖
When Bucky leaves, you feel less than relief. It’s easier to breathe without him around but your heart continues to race. You don’t move until you see him drive away. You steel yourself with the manufactured lie before you go back inside.
As you do, you’re surprised to find Roxie beside your mom, both of them close to the front window. You sigh. Were they watching? You guess you can be thankful Bucky hadn’t done more than talk.
Your mom faces you with a sheepish grin, “so... did you get it?”
You look between her and your sister. Roxie has her phone in hand and an arch in her eyebrow, “I’d die for a boss like that.”
“I...” you glance the screen before she can hide it. Oh. She had a picture of him pulled up on Google. So, they both know exactly who he is.
“He must be really hands on if he came all the way down here to offer you a job,” Roxie tilts her head.
“That’s the sign of a good boss,” your mom insists.
“Really, I think his eyes were the kicker. So blue.”
“Rox,” your mom nudges her. “A man like him, he’s got line ups, I’m sure. Besides, she’s too young for him.”
“Well, I’m older,” Roxie smirks, “maybe she can get me a job too.”
“Er, uh,” you wring your hands, “I should start dinner.”
“You didn’t say if you go the job,” Roxie challenges.
“Yeah,” you utter softly, “I got a job. Just cleaning.”
“Hey, it’s better than nothing,” you mom assures as she comes to you. She puts her hands on your shoulders, “I’m so proud of you.”
“Mom,” you try not to look pained as you return her smile, “it’s nothing. Really. A cleaner.”
“We all gotta start somewhere.”
“Yeah,” Roxie scoffs, “most of us a lot sooner.”
“Oh, don’t be such a downer,” your mom lets you go to spin on your sister, “don’t rain on her parade.”
“Whatever. I’d rather hand out flyers than clean toilets,” she rolls her eyes.
You purse your lips and shy away. You feel worse that they believe you so easily and why wouldn’t they? No one would think that someone like you would merit such a preposterous offer from a man like Bucky. You still can’t really believe it.
Maybe it’s just some twisted hallucination. You could wake up tomorrow and be just like you were before. You never thought you would long for that but now, being alone, being the loser, that feels safe. Being noticed, being someone, that’s terrifying.
🃏
You take your time making dinner, a brief escape from reality. The distraction keeps you busy enough that your chest stops thrumming, yet your nerves are still spastic. You’re not very hungry once it’s done but you make yourself eat.
Roxie heads off for work shortly after you gather up the dirty dishes and your mom goes to change into her pajamas. She startles you as you scour the pan you used to bake the chicken. You splash yourself and hiss.
“Sorry, hon, I was just coming to check on you,” she leans against the counter, “you’re nervous, aren’t you?”
You shrug, to fraught to answer.
“You get restless, I can tell. You do everything just to keep from fidgeting,” she says, “it’s going to be okay. You’ll be just fine and you’ll see, it’ll be nice to have your own money.”
“I know, mom,” you murmur, turning your face down to the sink, “it’s not that I don’t want to work, I just... I guess it’s the change that freaks me out.”
“Change is good, even if it’s scary,” she says. “You’ll see.”
“Mm,” you hum and try not to shatter, “I just want to help out.”
“Hon, you worry about yourself. Please--”
“No, I owe you.”
“Owe me? I’m your mother. I just wish I could give you more,” she smiles and squeezes your arm. “If you’re not some busy working girl, we’ll celebrate on my day off.”
“Sure,” you accept grimly.
She leaves you and you’re silent as you finish up the dishes. You put them away and wipe the counters. When you finish, you shut off the lights. You say good night from the doorway and retreat into your room. Tomorrow. That’s all he said. That’s the only detail you go before he strolled off.
You grab your phone and fall back on your bed. All you want is to lose yourself in a fic or a discussion board or even just scrolling mindlessly. You can’t. It’s like he’s taking over everything. There it is, that little icon you rarely see, a new message.
You pull down the menu and stare at the preview. Two hours ago. You’re surprised he didn’t show up to check why you hadn’t answered. Again. You will at least need to send something before the night is over.
‘Hey doll. I’ll send a car tomorrow morning at nine. Just bring yourself.’
You shudder and stare at the blue bubble around the text. Oof. Nine? That’s early for you. You suppose it’s about time you break that bad habit.
‘Sorry. I was making dinner. Nine is good. Thank you.’
You hit send and put your phone down. You slide your laptop across the bed and open it up. You’ll watch something. That old BBC drama you found on the free streaming service has been pretty interesting, but you think you only have one episode left. That’s good, you can’t be up all night.
Your phone buzzes. Shoot. Alright. You can do this. You have to get to it. You swipe up your phone again, surprised to find it’s still shaking.
Oh no. He’s calling!
You panic and nearly hit decline before you manage to drag your thumb the other way. You put the phone to your ear, unable to muster even a squeak. What do you say?
“Hey, doll,” Bucky’s voice drawls from the speaker, “hope I didn’t interrupt dinner.”
“No, er, we’re done.”
“Ah, and are you alone?”
You frown, “yes?”
“Good, good. Isn’t that sweet of you, cooking dinner for your family. That’s what I like about you. You take care of those you love.”
You gulp. You don’t know what to say.
“What was for dinner?” He asks as you hear a soft rustle.
“Um, chicken and potatoes,” you answer bluntly. It’s an easy question.
“You’re not busy or something?” He wonders.
“Uh uh,” you shake your head even though he can’t see, “I’m just... in bed.”
“Early night, huh?” He asks.
“I guess, I was going to watch a show.”
“Right, right,” he clicks his tongue as something taps followed by other indiscernible movements, “you in your pajamas? Bet those are cute?”
“Not... yet,” you croak.
“Mmm,” he purrs, “I just got out of the shower.”
“You... did?”
“Getting ready for tomorrow,” he explains, “gotta admit, I’m a bit impatient. You’ll see that about me, doll. When I want something, it’s hard to wait.”
“Uh, oh...” you stutter out.
“For you, I can,” he vows, “doll, do me a favour.”
“A favour?” You echo thinly.
“Mmm, yeah, I want you to get in your pajamas and send me a picture. Just to tide me over,” he coaxes.
“A picture?” You open your eyes wide and gape at the wall.
“Sure, just a taste. I wanna know what I should imagine next to me when I lay down.”
“What?” You squeak, shocked by his insinuation. Imagining you?!
“I can’t help myself. It’s lonely here.”
“I...” you pick at your lower lip, “one sec. I... I gotta...”
You put the phone on the bed and push yourself off the mattress. You trip on your own feet and hope he can’t hear you stumbling around. Your pajamas are kind of silly. You don’t really have any sexy ones. Maybe if he sees them, he’ll change his mind.
The only matching pair you have have snoopy on the top and a large check bottom on the pants. You fish them out and change. It’s okay. He can’t see you at that moment. Still, it feels like he is watching you. Just as his presence has lurked around you all day.
You go back to your phone and fumble around, “sorry, I... just... figuring out the camera.”
You hear his timbre but can’t make out his words from the small speaker. You open the camera app and flip the camera. You move around, trying to take the pic, and lean the phone on the top of your dress. You angle it and mutter to yourself as you struggle to set the timer.
You take several pictures before you’re not entirely discontent. You look awkward in all of them. The pants, like all your pants, are too long and gather around your feet. You don’t know how to pose either. Quite frankly, you look frightened in every single one.
“Alright, I think...” you babble and find your way into the conversation and choose the least egregious frame. You hesitate and close your eyes as you push your thumb down on the arrow.
You bring the phone back to your ear, “are you still there?”
“Always, doll,” he assures and once more, the phone shifts around noisily. “Mm, Snoopy? I like it. More of a Woodstock myself but... Mm mm mm, you look good.” He pauses as you wriggle and your cheeks burn hotly. “Sexy.”
“No,” you burst out without thinking.
“No? You don’t think I’m telling the truth?”
“I didn’t... say so, it’s... just pajamas,” you sniff, “sorry, I didn’t mean to argue.”
“Doll, relax. Thing about you, you don’t even have to try.”
You don’t reply. You have no idea what to say or even if you should believe him. You saw the picture, you look in the mirror every day, you know what you are. It still feels like some weird game.
“Here, gimme a sec,” he says from his end.
More rustling and the noise of a digital shutter. Your phone vibes shortly and you pull it away from your cheek. You squint at the screen as it lights up and an image buffers in the conversation.
“Huh, uh, it’s not loading. My phone is--” you nearly swallow your tongue and gasp.
Oh gosh. It’s a picture of him in almost nothing. Just a towel. His long hair is damp and pushed back and his dark beard contrasts his bright blue eyes as he aims the lens of his phone at himself in the mirror. His stomach is ridged with muscle, his chest trimmed with hair that trails down, and the towel hangs low, giving a generous hint of his pelvis. The vee above the fabric feels overly salacious.
“Doll?” You hear the low tone of his voice and make yourself look away. You raise the phone again to your ear. “Everything okay? You got really quiet.”
“I...”
“You like what you see?” He asks coyly.
You put your hand to your forehead, your flesh is fiery. It’s so much so fast. Just that morning, you’d convinced yourself you would never see or talk to him again. And now he’s sending you pictures like that and... flirting with you?
“Yes,” you eke out then cover your mouth. He snickers and you clear your throat before you peel your hand away, “sorry, I mean... you’re... you... you must work out.”
“Doll, you’re too adorable,” he says.
You don’t say a word. You’re mortified. He knew you saw that. He knows you’ve seen him like that. He sent it!
It’s all too much. You’re lightheaded. You rub your chin and shiver.
“I should... sleep.”
“Mm, me too,” he says, “hopefully I dream of you.”
You giggle nervously, “really?”
“Sure, doll. All I can do is dream. Until tomorrow,” he sighs, “and what about you? You gonna dream about me?”
You squeak and stammer, “I... I... I...”
He laughs again, “you really are so cute in those pajamas.”
“Please,” you blurt out, “delete it.”
“Now, why would I do that?” He challenges.
“I don’t... know.”
“I love it,” he insists, “you’re not deleting mine, are you?”
“N-no, no, I’ll keep it.”
“Hm, good,” he intones, “it’s all for you so don’t you go showing me off to all your friends.”
It’s your turn to laugh. “Promise, I won’t.” If only he knew you don’t have any friends to show.
#bucky barnes#dark bucky barnes#dark!bucky barnes#bucky barnes x reader#series#au#casino au#fic#dark fic#dark!fic#all in#mcu#marvel#captain america#avengers#winter soldier
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He's My Man (Part 2)
Summary: The reader isn't quite so sure if she can trust Russell with her secrets but he's decided she's going to get his help, whether she wants it or not. Reluctantly she accepts but in the process realizes she might actually be starting to care about him...
Masterlist
Pairing: Russell Shaw x reader
Word Count: 4,500ish
Warnings: language, gun shot injury mention, mentions of death, angst, fluff
A/N: Ooooh things are heating up! Please enjoy!
__________
Russell stared at you with what one could only describe as a look of wonder. You didn’t exactly blame him. Eating four large cheese danishes and chugging back a week’s worth of coffee in the span of fifteen minutes was enough to make anyone’s eyes widen.
You tossed your trash in his motel waste bin when you finished and returned to your seat at the tiny corner table. With an obnoxiously loud slurp of even more coffee, Russell titled his head, shaking it slightly.
“Good god. You have never been more attractive to me, which is saying something.” You slurped again, Russell letting his curiosity in your eating habits fade away in favor of the elephant in the room. He straightened in his seat, pausing a beat. “So. What’s this long story?”
Your fingertips rattled against the side of the large styrofoam cup, a small amount of heat radiating through. Now that you’d had some time to think, or rather stress eat, you knew this was a mistake. A big one. You needed to kick Russell out of your life and the sooner the better.
“I think you have the wrong idea about what’s going on and I thought it better we talk in private,” you said. Russell wore a weary expression, his eyes dissecting your every micro-movement. “I’m not interested in a relationship or a date or conversation. I don’t do that considering my line of work and I imagine you keep things casual with yours. So you take your money and consider this a warning. Contact me again and I will have you dealt with, understand?”
Russell leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms with a clenched jaw. You narrowed your eyes in response, Russell picking at his bandage without realizing.
“Stop that,” you mumbled when he kept doing it, his lip twitching up in a not so friendly way.
“You threaten me and in the next breath are worried about my damn stitches? I don’t think you realize just how good I am at my job,” he said, placing both hands on the table, folding them together. You swallowed, Russell staring so intently you had to glance away. “Alright. Back at the coffee shop, that was a moment of bravery and now it’s passed? Tough shit. We’re in the weeds now and we ain’t leaving until I know you do your job of your own free will. Understand?”
“Forget I said anything.” You stood up, Russell matching the movement and catching your bicep before you could take a step. Yes, he was injured but even one armed, he had enough raw strength in him to keep you from leaving.
“Tell me or I dig on my own and make things a lot riskier for both of us.” He dropped his hand, nodding to the seat. Russell sighed. “I trusted you. You can do the same.”
“You’re one guy.” You shook your head. “Drop this or you’ll wind up dead or worse.”
“I made my living doing jobs where if I fucked up I’d wish I were dead over the alternative. I know how to keep a secret. Maybe I can help, maybe I can’t. But you opened the box. You can’t just close it again.”
“Yes, I can. Goodbye, Russell.” You grabbed your coffee and headed for the door, pausing when you had a hand on the handle.
But what if he could help…he was ex-special ops…
Russell’s hand slid over yours, giving it a gentle squeeze. You frowned, a reassuring smile greeting you.
“Do you like your job?” he asked.
“S’complicated,” you whispered.
“How complicated?”
“Jobs like yours…that’s up to me to do that stuff but I…I work for someone else.” You found Russell’s unreadable green eyes and sighed. “I’m a fixer for the local mafia. It’s not a job you get to quit and stay alive very long.”
Russell contemplated your words, lips forming a thin line before he nodded. “I can take care of that assuming your story checks out.”
“My story?” you asked, Russell humming. “Why would I lie-”
“You could be playing me for any number of reasons. Like I said, I’m going to check your story out and if it’s all kosher, we’ll figure out where to go from there. Capiche?”
“Fine,” you grit out, shaking his hand away. “But do it quietly. You got three days.”
Late Evening
Your eye actually twitched when you answered your front door that night to find not your pizza delivery man before you but Russell fucking Shaw. He wore a deep navy utility jacket that hung loosely around his trim waist and a pair of black jeans. You weren’t sure why but his shift from lighter colored clothing this morning to this dark, edgy look made him look as dangerous as you expected he was.
“Russell,” you said. He didn’t bother hiding his smirk, eyes roaming over your body. You glanced down at your soft pale yellow pajama shirt and matching shorts set, huffing when he slipped past you inside.
“You totally are the kind of woman to having matching jammies,” he chuckled. You gripped the door tight, ready to kick him out just as your delivery driver pulled up.
“Just…take off your boots.” Two minutes later you had your pizza and garlic knots on your kitchen counter while Russell leaned back against it, his jacket since removed and tossed on the back of your couch. He wore a black zip up that was undone over a black t-shirt, Russell shifting at your growing unease.
“Listen,” he said, holding up his hands. “You got questions but first off, I’m not here to hurt you. This is just what I wear when I need to go…looking around places I ain’t exactly invited into.”
“Like my home?” He stared blankly, eyes drifting down to your chest. “The flirting was cute. Eye-fucking me in my kitchen, not so much.”
“You have sauce all over your shirt.” You glanced down, spotting marinara drops all over your short sleeve button up top from where you’d had the edge of the pizza box pressed against your torso as you’d carried it in. “Thanks for thinking so highly of me, though. Makes a guy feel special.”
“I’m on edge, alright?” you snapped, grabbing a towel and trying to get most of the sauce out. “Plus I just ruined a two hundred dollar shirt.”
“Figured you for a oversized men’s t-shirts kind of gal but little sets from french boutiques suites you.” You froze, Russell dropping his hands. “I know all about your shopping habits. You have high quality taste, much richer than the average suburbanite.”
“And?” you said, tossing the towel down, hands going to your hips. “Are you about to kidnap me and turn me over to the mafia or what?”
Russell approached you slowly, gently picking up the towel from the floor and dabbing it with some dish soap.
“If I had wanted to hurt you or take you or whatever else is going through your head, you wouldn’t have seen me coming.” He rubbed the towel against the damp spot on your shirt, letting the fabric get soapy. “Let that soak for a few minutes and then after you have some dinner, toss it in the wash. It’ll come out good as new.”
“How do you know that?” you asked, Russell hanging your towel on the oven handle.
“Because knowing how to get stains out of all types of fabrics is kind of necessary in my line of work,” he said, opening a few cabinets before finding the one with the plates. “Now. Can you put the knife you thought you grabbed without me seeing back and we have a civilized conversation over pizza?”
You weren’t sure how he’d seen you swipe the knife from the butchers block but figured he had a point. If he’d wanted to screw you over, he would have done it already. After excusing yourself, you returned in a pair of skinny black joggers and a slightly cropped gray AC/DC shirt to find Russell had already plated two sizeable portions for yourselves.
“See? Now that’s a look more fitting for the princess of darkness,” he chuckled.
“That’s queen of darkness to you,” you said, taking a seat at the island in front of one of the plates. “Do me a favor, lover boy. Grab me a guinness from the fridge.”
“Dark stout. Always a good choice.” He got out two, removing the cap for you before retreating to the other side of the island.
“As much as I love uninvited house guests who welcome themselves to my food and beer, why are you here, Russell?” You took a large bite of pizza, Russell long necking his beer for a moment.
“Yet I don’t see you kicking me out. It’s okay to admit you’ve fallen for me, Y/N,” he teased. You growled, Russell’s eyebrows raising in amusement. “Hot damn, woman. I love when you get all grr. Tells me you are a force to be reckoned with.”
You rolled your eyes, Russell taking an extra large bite. “Stop flirting and talk.”
“Why can’t I do both?” he asked, not waiting for an answer. “But to answer your original question, I’m here because your story checked out and that’s kind of a problem.”
“Excuse me? Why is that an issue?”
He set his plate down and gripped the island, leaning over it slightly. “Y/N. I can call up a few friends and wipe out a local mafia family no problem.”
“Awesome. Then what’s the fucking problem?” Russell tilted his head, like you’d just walked into some kind of trap he’d set.
“Y/N. Despite all the obvious sexual tension brewing between us, you failed to mention that you have a boyfriend. You know, the head of this fucking mafia family. The boyfriend that buys you those fancy french pajama sets? The one that bought that espresso machine over there? Girl, you better explain yourself because I am not a hired gun.”
You chewed quietly for a few moments under the heated scrutiny of Russell’s gaze before you pushed the plate away.
“My dad was an accomplished doctor. He was very well respected. I grew up very comfortably until I was about eight.” Russell loosened his stance and began to eat while you decided what he needed to absolutely know. “My dad unknowingly saved a mobster’s life one night in the ER. Mr. Lauter.”
“The former head of the mafia and this guy, Owen, your supposed boyfriend’s dad?” You nodded before taking a big swig from your bottle.
“Well, that pissed off Mr. Elpine who had almost had a successful hit on Mr. Lauter. Elpine tried to get my dad to kill Lauter. Dad refused and the next morning on the way to school, the brake lines in our car didn’t work. Dad and I walked away. Mom and my brother didn’t. Dad was scared Elpine would come after me again.”
“Your father went to Lauter for protection,” said Russell. You picked up your pizza as he put together the rest of the pieces. “Lauter offers him protection for saving his life but something happens and your dad ends up working for Lauter as his fixer.”
“The paranoia got to dad. He would take me on these weekend hunting trips all the time and teach me survival skills and medical stuff and I was a fucking kid, Russell. I didn’t want to do that shit but dad was…twitchy. PTSD for sure, a mental break too. I always guessed there was some brain trauma after the accident that never healed. He got real bad when I went to college. Bad enough that Lauter stepped in when my dad attacked me when I came home for the holidays. Lauter killed him and the fucked up part was I wasn’t even upset. My real dad had died when I was a kid. But…when a mob boss kills for you whether you wanted them to or not-”
“They think they own you for life.” You nodded. “So you became the fixer.”
“They let me finish college under the condition I come back and work for the family. They leave me be except for when I need to patch someone in the crew up. It’s honestly not that bad. They gave me a lot of money over the years. I hate to say this but Mr. Lauter was pretty good to me.”
Russell cleared his throat. “You do know how fucked up what he did to you is, right?”
“Of course I do,” you said, closing your eyes. “But compared to my dad and Owen, he was the lesser evil.”
“I came across the fact Mr. Lauter died about three weeks ago from heart disease.” You hummed. “Tell me about this fuckface, Owen.”
“Dude has had a crush on me since he was fucking twelve. He has it in his head that the family owns me, literally. Lauter always reined him in but since he’s been gone, Owen’s been…pushy. Telling the crew I’m his girlfriend, asking them to follow me. Thankfully, and this is why this is so weird, I grew up around a lot of the guys. Making me work and fix people, fine. But some kind of forced romance? They aren’t cool with it, at least they’re kind of ignoring Owen. I’ve kept Owen off my back because he’s grieving and busy trying to take over but he’s going to back on my ass soon. This time, those guys will have to listen to their new boss.”
“So…I take out Owen and you think you’re in the clear. You could have just said that.” He finished off his beer and washed his hands at the sink. “Here’s what we’re going to do. You’re going grab essentials, and I mean essentials, while I pack up your dinner in what I expect is some color coordinated tupperware. Then you’re going to take my car and drive to Elmhurst Camping Grounds. It’s about four hours north of here and no, you will stop for anything so use the bathroom before you go and I’ll pack you a snack. You’re going to park in the visitors lot and go to the airstream in lot 4. It’ll be isolated. You knock on the door and there’ll be a guy inside. Colter. You stay with him, go wherever he goes and do whatever he tells you to without question. You don’t leave his side until I come and get you, understand?”
“I feel like if I ask questions you’ll just tell me I don’t want to know.” Russell smirked.
“I love that big brain of yours.” You rolled your eyes but felt a tiny smile on your face. “Warming up to me are we?”
“Fuck no. But uh, who the hell are you sending me to?”
“My baby brother. Don’t worry. His ugly mug will keep you safe.”
Four Hours Later
“Uh, hi,” you said, practically bouncing up and down at midnight in front of a strange tall man at a very nice airstream RV.
“Y/N,” he said as you forced a smile. “Bathroom is right there-”
You darted past him and into the small cubby bathroom, grateful after the long drive. The man was waiting leaned against a small counter space when you exited, a temporary bed made up behind him in what looked like a breakfast nook.
“Sorry to barge in. Russell said not to stop for anything.”
“S’alright,” he said. “Bed’s made up if you want to crash. I’m going to stay up a bit longer by the fire. You’re welcome to join if you like.”
“Thanks, uh…” you said, a very brief smile on his face as you tried to remember what Russell had called him.
“Colter. It’s not a problem.” He skirted by you and outside, taking a seat in a foldable camping chair. You had questions but for the moment, all you wanted was to get some rest.
You woke up around six thirty, jolting up in your bed to find a very wet and nearly naked Colter trying to pick up a mug he’d dropped.
“Well good morning,” you said, his hand in a death grip on the towel just barely concealing him away.
“Morning,” he said, slowly backing up to the bedroom. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”
“Not a problem,” you said, catching a whiff of coffee.
“Mug are in the first cabinet if you want a cup. I’ll be out in a minute,” he said. He excused himself to his room and slid the divider shut, leaving you to the rest of the airstreamer.
A moment later you were outside in front of a small fire, sitting in a chair with warm coffee in your hands. It was cool and you wished you’d thought to pack a jacket in your haste last night.
You were rubbing your arms when something was draped over your shoulders, a thick heavy hoodie.
“Russell got you out of there pretty quick, huh?” asked Colter, taking the mug while you shrugged into the warm fleece.
“Yeah. All I grabbed was my wallet, some cash and my computer. He told me I could buy clothes here,” you said. Colter handed you back the mug and took a seat beside you.
“I checked his car. He had a duffel full of his clothes in there I brought inside. You can use his stuff, or mine, until we can hit a store.”
“Thanks,” you said, smelling Russell’s deodorant on the fabric. Colter saw you tug the hood up, a question on the tip of his tongue but he decided against it. The air was still and quiet apart from the crackle of fire and morning birds.
“So,” said Colter, not looking at you as he drank. “You and Russell…you like, his girlfriend-”
“No,” you said, shaking your head. “I just met the guy yesterday. All I did was patch him up.”
“Right.” You sunk lower in your chair, slurping loudly.
“Were you special ops like him?” you asked. Colter shook his head.
“Civilian. Never had any formal training, just what we grew up with.” Well, that was an interesting statement. What the hell did it mean though? “Our father was a survivalist, taught us things.”
“Oh. My dad was a little out there too.” Was that why Russell was so adamant about helping you out of your situation? No. Maybe it played a part, but no. He’d wanted to help before you told him that. “Does Russell do this sort of thing often?”
“No clue. First time I talked to him in years was two days ago. I helped him find a friend of his. I was there when he got that bullet hole in him you fixed.”
Alrighty then. Russell was becoming more and more intriguing by the second.
“So you don’t know a lot about him then,” you said. Colter shrugged.
“I guess I’m figuring him out too but he’s a good guy. He’s somebody you want as a friend.” You hummed, finishing your coffee off. Colter excused himself to get you more and returned with a fresh cup, steam billowing from within.
“You trail run?” you asked, Colter’s eyes showing a flash of surprise. “Muddy sneakers by the door. I did cross country in school.”
“I try to get out most mornings. The hot water should be good to go in about five minutes if you want a shower.”
“Thanks.” You licked your lips as you remembered the sight of him exiting the bathroom not long ago. Sure, Colter was hot but Russell…well the image of that man in nothing but a towel as water dripped down his body…You shifted in your seat, squeezing your legs together to try and get a hold of yourself. Colter smirked slightly in his seat. “What?”
“I’m good at reading people is all.”
“And? What am I saying?” you asked, staring him down. Colter only smiled as he looked away to the fire.
“You’re wondering if Russell works out and picturing him naked.” You glared at him but it did nothing to hide the heat radiating off your cheeks. “Hey, you’re a grown woman. You can do as you please.”
“I think I will take that shower now.” You stood and set the mug down on the ground, shooting Colter one last look. There’d been no malice or teasing in his voice. He was simply being straight with you. “Listen. I just…I haven’t exactly been around good guys much, or ever. I’m not saying there’s anything there beyond physical attraction, okay?”
“Okay,” he said, looking at you like you were the worst liar in the world. “Whatever you say.”
You grumbled and went inside to take a very cold shower.
Three Days Later - Spokane, Washington
“Hey, Colt,” you said, pushing up the long sleeves of Russell’s gray henley you wore. Colter hummed around the piece of grilled chicken in his mouth as you spun your laptop around from the other side of the airstream’s dining table. “Could she have gone here? Looks like a decommissioned game trail.”
“Yeah, yeah that fits,” he said with his mouth full, chewing and swallowing quickly so he could take a closer look. You returned to your own dinner, Colter mentioning he was going to take a look after dark.
Things had fallen into an easy pattern with the two of you. Colter was very different than his brother but it wasn’t a bad thing. He didn’t talk much and worked as a rewardist. He’d planned on sticking around the east coast for when Russell met up with you again but an urgent case in Washington popped up. You’d spent most of the past three days driving cross-country behind Colter’s truck and the airstreamer, learning what the hell a rewardist was.
Colter had told you about the case at first to keep your mind off of Russell but you’d reluctantly taken an interest and now were deep in the weeds of helping him locate a missing young woman.
“You want to come look with me?” asked Colter, breaking you out of your train of thought. You blinked, a small smile on his face. “Come on. It’ll get you some experience with rewardest work and stop you from doom scrolling.”
“Alright,” you sighed. While you appreciated Colter’s attempts to make you feel better, you were starting to get very concerned. You hadn’t heard from Russell since you left your house a few days ago and there was nothing in the news about the local mafia members being killed. Or him.
Colter rubbed your back when you helped him unhook it from the airstream. He tended to do that when you started to get stressed out. He hadn’t been lying before. He really was good at reading people.
“Colter,” you said in the dark truck, the hum of the vehicle quiet in the cab as he drove. “What if something happened to him and he needs our help?”
“He knows what he’s doing. A job like this, he’s got to do a lot of prep work and he’s got to put a crew together. Trusted friends. Try not to worry.” You bit your bottom lip as you stared out the window, trees passing by.
If only it were that simple.
It was two in the morning by the time you and Colter made it back to the camping grounds. You’d found Martha in not too great of shape but she was alive and the doctors said she’d make a full recovery with time. Colter has tried to give you some of the reward money for helping but you hadn’t done all that much in your opinion.
“Stay here,” he said when he turned the truck into your lot and you spotted a dark figure sitting by the fire. He took his gun from the back of jeans and got out, pausing halfway out the door. He smiled over at you and you caught the dark figure give an awkward little wave. “Should I tell him how much you’ve been worried?”
“Not. A. Word. Colter,” you said before hopping out and happily rushing over to where Russell rose to his feet. You didn’t realize you were giving him a hug until he was laughing, returning it and lifting you off the ground.
“I missed my queen of darkness too,” he chuckled, setting you down with a smirk. You scoffed, Russell’s eyebrows raising at your attire. “Is that my jacket? And shirt?”
“Why waste the money on new stuff,” you shrugged, Russell grinning like an idiot. “Stop that.”
“I’m sure that was the reason.” Colter came over, the boys sharing a nod. “You keep my little delinquent out of trouble?”
“She’s a breeze,” said Colter, taking a seat. “Even helped with my latest case. She should try the rewardist thing. She’s good at it.”
“Maybe. All I want to know is am I good?” you asked. Russell took your hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze. He nodded, the tension running of out your body. “Thank you, Russell. Thank your friends too. I’ll pay you guys-”
“No payment. This was because you’re my friend, plain and simple. Just knowing you’re safe is more than enough.” You smiled, letting yourself rest your head against his shoulder. “You should rest. We’ll talk in the morning.”
“How-”
“In the morning. I need to catch up with my little brother.” You nodded, enjoying the feel of his heavy hand as it ran over your head. “Go sleep, Y/N. You’re exhausted.”
You reluctantly peeled yourself away and went inside to find your makeshift bed had been done up for you already. You didn’t even try to fight the flutters in your stomach when you spotted a yellow pajama shirt and shorts set neatly folded on top. There was a note beside it, a stupid ass smile finding it’s way onto your face.
Brand new. Imported from France. Don’t get used to fancy ass presents like these. I ain’t made of money. Even if these are soft as fuck and I totally wish they made these for men. I still think you’d look better wearing a band tee to bed.
Russ
P.S. They had a sale so I got you something else too. Check your backpack.
You shook your head and grabbed your bag from the floor, taking out a very elegant black bag. You undid the tissue paper and went wide eyed.
Inside was a very, very, fancy black lace bra and multiple pairs of gorgeous bikini style undies in soft muted colors. There was another note waiting for you inside, your heart stilling.
No strings attached. Hopefully these will cover you for a little while until you can get settled again.
“Oh, Russell,” you said quietly, thumbing over the bag, smiling to yourself as your insides did very happy backflips.
He wasn’t just a pretty and protective face. He was thoughtful too.
And you were starting to fall for a guy that’d most likely be gone by this time tomorrow.
Fuck.
__________
A/N: Part 3 coming soon!
#russell shaw#Russell Shaw x reader#russell shaw fanfiction#Tracker Fanfiction#Tracker#Russell Shaw x you#Russell Shaw Series
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Can I just say…
I keep having feral thoughts of Pornstar!Joel maybe feeling tired after a long day and he tries to eat Babylove’s pussy with his usual enthusiasm but she can tell he’s too tired.
So, instead after lots of reassurance from her, he spends his time just kissing her clit and folds because he was foo fucking stubborn to get from between her legs. So he settles a little routine of kissing her clit, pulling away and settling his cheek against her thigh to simply watch her pussy twitch with a lovesick smile on his face before repeating it again.
Oh my god, nonnie!! You can’t do this to me right now 😩😩😩
No cause imagine they get back from the bar super late one night and Ellie is having a sleepover with Dina and some of their friends so Joel and baby love have the whole house to themselves and he’s super enthusiastic the moment they walk through the door he’s kissing all up on your neck, squeezing your ass and thighs through your dress. He’s probably even a little tipsy, curls a sweaty mess strewn across his forehead haphazardly. He tastes like salt, musk, and hint of whiskey when you guide his warm mouth to your own. It’s a messy kiss of tangled tongues and clashing teeth when he lifts the hem of your dress over your ass so he can feel your hot skin beneath his touch.
They stumble up the stairs, giggling between kisses the whole way up to their bedroom. He doesn’t even bother with undressing and just focuses all his attention on you and all the skin he can reach.
He’s between your thighs, licking and kissing everywhere he can reach as he yanks your panties down swiftly and tosses them to the side. All that dancing and drinking has really started to make him feel sleepy, but he’s determined to make you come at least once before knocking out.
“Baby love…” he mumbles groggily against your pussy, tongue lazily lapping through your folds. His half lidded eyes slowly flit up to your face from between your thighs. You reach one hand down, threading your fingers through his messy, sweaty curls to gently brush them from his face.
“Daddy, it’s okay if you’re sleepy.” You reassure him but he shakes his head immediately.
“No, no, baby. M’fine. Wanna make you come, sweet girl. Been promisin’ you all goddamn night and I ain’t about to—”
“Joel.” You hush him, soft yet stern. “It’s okay. We can just cuddle and sleep, okay?”
But your man is relentless, pushing through his drowsiness when he begins to slowly circle his tongue around your clit before kissing it sweetly. He does this a few times before dragging his tongue through your slick folds and back up again. He’s always been so generous and giving, and you could never deny him his favorite meal, after all…
When he grows tired he rests his scruffy cheek against your bare thigh, eyes drooping and growing heavy as he watches your bare pussy twitch, glistening with his salivia and arousal beneath his heady gaze. His smile is a lovesick grin, dripping with sweetness like nectar from a flower, or juice from a ripened peach.
He kisses your clit once more, a goodnight kiss while his strong arms encircle your waist, using your thigh as his personal pillow. He falls asleep shortly after, soft snores tickling the sensitive hair on your skin, but you don’t have the heart to move him, not when he’s looking so peaceful. His lips are so plush, kissable like two cherries.
You continue to gently play with his hair, whispering sweet nothings before you too drift off into a relaxed slumber.
#screaming crying throwing up#joel miller#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller smut#joel miller x reader#joel miller x f!reader#pornstar!joel#baby love#the rite of movement#joel miller imagine#joel miller drabble#joel miller tlou#joel miller the last of us#pedro pascal characters#joel miller fic
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good morning im politely requesting people look at my post abt how the ancients see each other
under the cut some closeups + a ton of additional thoughts
hollyberry + golden cheese are also part of the crew of 'thinking pv is a bit naive', but he's also the most emotionally intelligent out of all of them and incredibly empathetic and thats something they both respect a whole lot .
dark cacao on the flipside can see how much of a mental toll being empathetic can be
white lily seems to have the most "whole" thought of pv - which would make sense, she's been with him the longest and has seen every facet that is pv. but even still her worries that he's too trusting of her are eating away at her thoughts- as such a pv shapeshifter made of her subconscious Would be way more naive .
in my head white lily's pv would be the last shapeshifter and in order to tell the difference between them white lily would ask if he ever doubted her . the real pv would say that he definitely struggled and had been lost and confused- but ultimately trusts her above all else . vs the shapeshifter who would just say "no I'd never doubt you" .
i didnt have room for it but i think dark cacao also recognizes hollyberrys seriousness . if you get drunk with someone enough times you'll start to piece together the really vulnerable moments you had with eachother . i think hollyberry and dark cacao have the closest relationship and im not saying this because im in love with both of them
golden cheese has a bit of a recollection issue and you can see that with hollyberry + cacao the most. golden cheese reminisces a Lot and that affects how she remembers the othera . hollyberrys is a bit of a trickier thing but in this instance golden cheese doesnt remember the braids. she knows hollyberry has a different outfit than before but doesn't pay it much mind
you might have noticed the pattern at this point of pure vanilla having a bit of a cutesy interpretation of all the ancients. he loves his friends so much that he has a bit of a harder time being critical of them. he thinks dark cacaos seriousness/grumpiness is endearing. to be honest its partly an inverse of shadow milks interpretation of the ancients (simple and positive vs simple and negative) but that wasnt entirely intentional. just interesting to notate now that im thinking of it
hollyberrys dark cacao is a bit of an inverse also to what i was talking about with dark cacaos hollyberry . shes seen the sweeter more heartfelt side of dark cacao and that shines through to her
if it wasnt for the outfit + hair, golden cheese's dark cacao would have probably been the last shape shifter standing
and i will stand by the dragon cacao headcanon till the day i die
golden cheese's was fun to think about bc of the little details that are different between the different shapeshifters- specifically in the neck area (bc thays the only portion you guys get to see) . dark cacaos is a bit more of a hanbok style, white lily has a turtleneck thing kind of happening, etc etc. i think pure vanilla has the most accurate idea of what she looks like .
i think white lilys interestingly enough would be the last one standing because i honestly dont think her golden cheese would even be talking with her :(( so we'd only really find out the difference when white lily's gc is forced to talk to her . white lily thinks that gc hates her and wants her gone but golden cheese's feelings are wayy wayyy more complicated. golden cheese doesn't want white lily gone she Is glad that she's back but its also hard. everything she loves is gone right now . but she's going to find a way to get it back- and if white lily can help than maybe that'll rekindle their relationship.
the cuteification beam still reaches for white lily despite how much pv knows her . i doubt this would help with white lilys feelings that pv is being naive bc shes looking at a shapeshifter based off of pvs subconscious and that subconscious is showing so mucy nostalgia it probably hurts
hollyberry in the past probably really babied white lily + pure vanilla because she Knows theyre not eating . shes observant as hell and will always demand they have at least one bite of something in order to figure out if they're Really "not hungry".
the last one would probably land on golden cheese's bc again . her feelings are complicated and as such her subconscious would showcase that multifaceted issue of "knowing this is your friend and also knowing your friend is responsible for your kingdoms destruction".
#📗; my post#💚; art tag#r; 🪻#r; 🍻#sorry to the 3 others im not dating ill figure tags one day maybe#cookie run kingdom#cookie run#pure vanilla cookie#hollyberry cookie#dark cacao cookie#golden cheese cookie#white lily cookie
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Venti's Disney Princess Traits are Lore-Relevant
Credit to Ashikai, specifically in their YouTube livestream discussing the Genshin 3.7 preview stream
So, in the stream today, Ashikai mentioned the idea that Mondstadt is a city of fairytales - with Klee being Little Red Riding Hood, Razor being the Big "Bad" Wolf, and Lisa being a storybook witch.
Finally, my interest in the old versions of fairy tales is relevant!
I believe Venti is Snow White.
Plenty have joked about Venti having a "Disney Princess Moment" when he talked to animals (as witnessed by NPC Sage). I wanna focus on his preference for Apples.
(Venti liking eating the Christian symbol for Original Sin is a whole separate essay, that I believe others have written before)
I believe Venti represents Snow White, the 7 dwarfs the people of Mond, and the Traveler the prince. Who's the Evil Queen? Uncertain.
What Happens in Snow White Again??
Snow, a princess so-named because of her pale skin and black hair, is sentenced to death by her stepmother, the evil queen. The queen wants the hunstman to kill Snow in the woods, and bring back Snow's heart, either as proof that she's dead or so that the queen can eat it to achieve immortality. Snow begs for her life, and escapes to live with the 7 dwarfs. The queen finds out, disguises herself, and, in the original tale, makes 3 attempts to kill her:
1st, with a corset she laces so tight, Snow can't breathe. 2nd, with a poisoned comb she runs through Snow's hair. And finally, with a poisoned apple.
In the first 2 attempts, the dwarfs return, unlace the corset/remove the apple, and Snow wakes up quickly. In the 3rd, the dwarfs cannot figure out what's wrong, and believe she's dead. She is asleep until the prince happens to come by, and wakes her up (how he does this varies by version).
How Does This Relate to Venti?
To my knowledge, Venti has fallen asleep 3 times after achieving archonhood: once after the fall of Decarabian, once after the fall of the aristocracy, and once after the fight with Durin.
After the first 2 sleep periods, the people of Mond were able to wake him up with their prayers. After the 3rd sleep period, he was badly poisoned, and was only healed after the Traveler came along and purified him.
Exactly how/why Venti sleeps so long is unknown to us, but now I'm inclined to say it's involuntary, and in fact caused by Celestia, in order to keep him complacent.
The Evil Queen, Seeking Snow White's Heart
Mayhaps the Evil Queen wanting Snow's heart, and getting a false one, is representing the Tsaritsa sending La Signora to take Venti's gnosis, and (in this case) getting a fake gnosis. This supports the theory that Venti did indeed keep his real gnosis.
Or, to keep with the timeline and happen way before he goes to sleep:
Mayhaps it represents the Anemo Authority.
Maybe it represents the time powers he has thanks to Istaroth, and even Celestia doesn't know the true extent of Venti's power.
#genshin barbatos#genshin venti#mondstadt#genshin impact#genshin theory#venti the bard#venti headcanons#snow white#genshin 4.7#klee#razor#hexenzirkel hcs#genshin lumine#genshin aether#genshin traveler
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Hello friend I was wondering if I could request a fourth wing x reader fic with xaden? Maybe where instead of Violet being tortured by varrish its reader? And maybe we see a bit from xadens pov?
Hurts like hell
The pain was like no other. The concept of time had slipped away a long time ago. Your body was sore and stiff. Nor could you distinguish if it was the sound of your blood dripping on the floor or the condensation of the cellar walls. “This could be so much easier, wing leader”, Varrish's venomous voice fills your senses and suddenly you wish you hadn’t blinked. Hadn’t made him aware of your consciousness. “What do you know about the rebellion, girl?”, he takes fistfuls of your hair, yanking your head back. Your angry eyes glare up at him, “Eat. My. Shit”, you hiss through gritted teeth as the back of his hand slams into your cheek. The rings he’s wearing crack the scabbed-up cuts all over again.
And it’s as if he feels it. Every blow. Every cut. Every scream. Xaden had lost the amount of time he had vomited since they had taken you. Or more since you had saved Bodhi’s and Garrick's asses and was taken instead of them. Had he beaten both of them up for it? Yes. And he planned on repeating it once you were back in his arms.
“There’s nowhere else they could be keeping her”, Imogen says, tapping her finger on the map. Everyone had been looking for you for three days now. “Unless he’s usually magic he shouldn’t”, Bodhi adds, making Xaden let out a growl. It was driving him mad knowing that you were taking a beating for his slip-up. They weren’t being careful enough. They weren’t thinking about the consequences when they smuggled such a big load of weapons out. “Tonight. There’s an upper-hand meeting at seven that leech of a man should be there”, he grunts, his shadows drowning his hands in the darkness. “Imogen you will make sure he stays there for as long as possible”, and for the first time, she only nods, because she too can feel that Xaden is on his last straw. “You two will come with me. Fuck knows what they have going on down there”, running a hand through his hair, Xaden watches as both Bodhi and Garrick nod. Hold on, he pleads, just for a bit longer. Because he would kill them all. Burn this whole academy down if you were… and that’s enough to make him go ridge once more. He couldn’t let himself think about it.
His heart is beating so fast and so loudly that he doesn’t even hear his footsteps as they navigate the dark corridors of the dungeons. Checking every nook and cranny. Every room. Every floorboard. Until the metal gates leading to the back cellar catch Xaden’s eyes, and the way his shadows rush to it in a frenzy. His legs step forward before he even realizes it. Breathe hitching in his throat.
“Y/n”, he mutters rushing forward. His hands are shaking so much that he can barely push the hair away from your face, let alone look for the pulse. Face. Barely recognizable face. So cut up and bruised. Drowned in angry purples and blacks. “There’s a pulse”, Xaden’s head snapped to the side, he didn’t even realize that Garrick had followed him in here. “Faint but there”, he clasped Xaden’s shoulder, “But we need to get her out of here”.
And he tries, tries so hard to get the ropes of your wrists but it’s as if his own body is going into an overdrive. “Bodhi, get Xaden out of here”, Garrick orders, freeing your legs, reaching to press his fingers to your neck once more. “No”, Xaden argues, pulling at your hand, “Baby, you need to open your eyes”, he mutters looking at you, “Tell me that you hear me”. But there’s nothing. Just your limp body. Drowning in blood and filth. A firm palm presses against the back of his neck and his head is turned away from you.
“We are getting her out. Do you understand?”, Garrick’s firm words slip past the haze. “You will go with Bodhi because you can’t help out anymore and I will carry her and keep her safe”, and it’s no longer a question. It’s a statement. An order. One that Xaden follows. With Bodhi reassuring with the whole way. Catching one last look at you. Of Garrick carefully scooping you up as he mumbles, “Come on, girly, we need you here. Don’t you give up yet”.
Xaden doesn’t move from your side after Brennon meds your wounds. The Rioroso house was the only place they could think of that was safe for you. But even here his mind doesn’t ease up. It’s been a week and you haven’t shown any signs of waking up. So just like any other night when he came to visit you, he’s carefully running the healing balm into the cuts on your face and arms. Needing to know that he’s doing something. Helping in some way.
And it’s the pain sigh that leaves your lips when his fingers brush over the cut on your temple that has his stalling. “Baby”, he breathes, gaze now fully fixed on your face. His lips brush over your knuckles, “Please, open your eyes. I need to…”, and it’s as if his words coxed you out of your slumber as you blink rapidly. Scared eyes scanned the place.
Xaden leans closer, carefully bringing his fingers through your hair. Trying to soothe you with the feeling of him. “Xaden”, his name on your lips is enough to finally make him crack. He lowers his head onto your shoulder as ugly sobs echo through the room. He knows that he should be strong. To be calmer and colder but he was convinced that he was never gonna hear the sound of your voice ever again. “I’m here, my little fighter”, he sniffles, looking back up at you, “l will never let you hurt like that ever again”.
#xaden riorson#xaden riorson x reader#xaden riorson x you#xaden riorson imagine#xaden x reader#xaden imagine#xaden fourth wing imagine#xaden fourth wing x reader#fourth wing imagine#fourth wing x reader#iron flame imagine#iron flame x reader
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𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝔾𝕦𝕚𝕕𝕠 𝕋𝕠 𝕄𝕪 𝕃𝕦𝕚𝕘𝕚
Alessandro Fusaro x Fem!Reader (she/her)
Where taking your niece to a race has an unexpected, very stressful (but eventually very welcome) outcome.
Warnings: None! Maybe some brief talks of the dreaded emotions!! (also probably some bad Italian translations 😅)
Ember's Notes: I really hope you like this one @pear-1206 because I actually loved writing it so much oml 🫶🫶
(I left it kind of open ended so if there’s a decent demand for it, I can write a part two that focuses mainly on the pairing)
For as long as you could remember, your family had been staunch Ferrari supporters. You had been part of the Tifosi for your whole life. It was something that you had found so much joy in, being able to cheer and root for the same team as the rest of your family. Which is why you had asked your younger brother if you could take your 7 year old niece, Gianna, to the Imola Grand Prix. He had told you a few months ago that he was trying to get Gianna to be a Ferrari fan (a fan of motorsport in general) but it was turning out to be tough work.
Originally your father had planned to take you with him, but given the circumstances, he had told you to take Gianna. So you brought it up to your brother and his wife. Your sister-in-law had been worried that something might happen to Gianna (and you of course) but she swiftly agreed to let you take her daughter when you promised to facetime every morning and every night that you were away. All that was left to do was to tell Gianna that she would get to spend a whole weekend with her Zia Y/n. [Auntie]
A few weeks have gone by and it was finally time for you to introduce your niece to the world of Formula One. You hoped that she would have fun, especially given just how excited she was when her parents told her about the trip. You desperately didn’t want that excitement to have been for nothing.
“How long will we take this weekend, Zia?” You heard her ask from the backseat of your car, your beloved 1959 Fiat 500. Your car had been another thing that Gianna was excited about for the weekend, as you usually only drove it around on special occasions.
“We’re going to be here all weekend, Bambina. Nonno was kind enough to get us passes into the garage for the whole weekend.” You told her. [Baby] [Grandpa]
“Are we going to meet important people?” She asked, twiddling with her thumbs timidly. You became worried as this was so far away from how she usually was.
“Mmm, I’m not sure Fiore. Why? Are you nervous?” [Flower]
“Un po’” [A little bit]
Your heart melted and seized simultaneously. You reassured her that being nervous was normal, because she had never gone to a race weekend before. Wanting to see her smile again, you offered to teach her about who was who in the paddock as soon as you settled into your hotel room. Gianna quickly agreed and was back to her vibrant, excited self in no time.
Walking into the paddock on Friday morning was a feeling that you would happily get used to. Gianna had asked if you could try and get there earlier than all the drivers. When you asked, she told you that she still wasn’t 100% confident about who was who, despite spending well over an hour the night before looking up pictures and matching them to names. Gianna said that by getting there earlier than the others, the two of you could find a nice spot somewhere near the entrance where you could point and tell her who was walking through.
Thinking about it, you couldn’t fault her logic. So here you were bright and early. You had arrived with enough time to buy some breakfast and find a nicely shaded spot where you could settle in while you waited. Gianna had insisted that you both sit at a table that was both directly opposite the paddock entrance and under a rather large tree. Sitting down you gave Gianna her breakfast, a freshly toasted bacon and egg croissant, and made sure that she was drinking enough water from her Cars themed bottle. Similarly you also began to eat your own croissant while you sipped your scalding hot coffee.
Gianna spoke to you about what she was most excited for this weekend while you both ate. Occasionally someone would walk through the entrance that she recognised. You were surprised just how often she had noticed someone that you mentioned the previous night. So far she had pointed out some drivers, a few of the team principals and the occasional mechanic or engineer.
When Hannah Schmidt had walked through though, Gianna had nearly fallen off her seat as she pointed and told you that she had recognised and remembered the iconic woman. Said woman had heard Gianna excitedly cry and she had smiled and waved at your niece as she walked to the Red Bull garage.
You smiled when you noticed that Hannah had waved at Gianna. Happy that this trip was definitely living up to what you had promised your niece. Seeing that the two of you had long since stopped eating, you packed away your rubbish and cleaned up the area you had been sitting.
“Should we walk around for a bit, Gigi? Stretch our legs a little?”
“Yes please, Zia.”
So you packed away your things and threw away your rubbish in a nearby bin. You held Gianna’s hand and walked around for a bit as you didn’t need to be in the garage for a little while still.
Walking around the paddock with your niece made sure to point out all the things she thought were interesting. You were giving her little tidbits of information throughout the whole walk, about a bunch of things that had to do with motorsport. Granted most of the information was directly about Ferrari but hey, you were trying to induct a brand new member of the Tifosi.
Unbeknownst to you, just as you were starting to tell Gianna about the extensive history of Ferrari, a member of the Scuderia Ferrari media team had strolled past you and had heard you speaking about Enzo Ferrari. They had quickly turned around and you found yourself being approached by a small media team no less than 2 minutes later.
“Hi, I’m Sophia. I’m part of Ferrari’s media team, I was just wondering if we could film you answering some Ferrari related questions for a youtube video?”
Having not expected this change of events at all, but also knowing you wouldn’t get another chance, you agreed to let them film you. So long, of course, that they didn’t get Gianna’s face in the shot. As they started to set their equipment, you gently kneeled next to your niece and asked her to stay within a few metres of you so that she wouldn’t get lost.
“Te lo prometto Zia!” [I promise Auntie!]
“Bene.” [Good.]
As you stood up they told you that they were ready to film when you were. Giving them the go ahead they pressed record and started asking you questions. First general questions about Formula One but soon they started to ask more obscure questions about Ferrari specifically. You smiled and gave as many answers as you could. Which was a lot. Later when the video would come out, a lot of people would comment that had you not introduced yourself at the beginning they’d’ve thought you were related to Enzo himself.
The questions had ended after almost twenty minutes. Sophia had apologised because she wasn’t aware how long that would take but you assured her it was no problem at all. You readjusted your shoulder bag and went to grab Gianna’s hand, only to not see her where she was supposed to be standing.
“Gianna?” you called, trying not to panic. She was right beside you, where could she have gone?
“Gigi?! Fiore, this isn’t funny!” you tried to call out again. “Zia’s getting really worried!”
Having already excused yourself from the media team next to you, disregarding their shocked and worried looks, you quickly started walking around trying to find your niece. Walking towards the end of the paddock you kept calling out for her, hoping that someone would take pity on you and help you look. Thankfully you had taken a “fit check” photo with her this morning, meaning that when you went up to people asking if they’d seen her, you could show them a picture of what she was wearing that day.
Too many people had said they’d not seen her at all for you to be comfortable. You were starting to get frantic when another 10 minutes had gone by. There was no way you were returning home without your niece. You’d turn into Liam Neeson if you found out that someone had taken her. Speed walking past the Ferrari garage, you finally heard the sound you had needed to hear.
Gianna’s giggles.
Letting her giggling lead you to her, you ended up in the garage where you needed to be for the beginning of the practise sessions. Looking around for Gianna, you noticed that one of the mechanics was crouching down but not facing the car at all. Walking closer you finally saw that the mechanic was entertaining you niece, whose face was lit up with the biggest smile you had ever seen.
Emotions washed over you like a tsunami. She hadn’t been taken. Tears welled up in your eyes at the utter relief you felt finally knowing that she had been safe the whole time.
Rushing over to her, you quickly scooped her up into a hug, wrapping your arms around her tightly.
“Gianna! Mia cara ragazza, non hai idea di quanto fossi preoccupato! I thought someone had taken you away and you were lost forever! Sono così felice che tu stia bene!” By now your tears had begun falling down your face. [My darling girl, you have no idea how worried I was!] [I’m so glad you’re okay!]
“Zia! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to break my promise but someone pushed into me and I fell and when I got up again I couldn’t see you and then I bumped into Alessandro and he asked me why I was crying and so I told him that I couldn’t see you and that we were supposed to go to the Ferrari garage for practise so he made sure I got here without anyone else pushing me!” She rushed to tell you everything that had led to this moment. You finally let go of her, moving your hands to stroke the hair away from her face. In the back of your mind you noted that she had bumped into Charles Leclerc’s head mechanic, but that could be focussed on later.
“It’s okay Principessa. You found help, I’m proud of you. I was just worried when I couldn’t see you, that's all.” You said, finally able to wipe your own tears off of your face. “Did you say thank you to Mr. Fusaro?”
Alessandro decided to cut in before Gianna could tell you that she had indeed said thank you. “Please, there’s no need for thank you’s. I didn’t want her to get more lost or upset.”
Standing up, you gently placed a hand on Gianna’s shoulder as you faced the man in front of you. “I must insist, you just saved me from a horrible phone call with my sister-in-law.”
You both chuckled a little as you spoke. He brushed you off again saying he loved hanging out with Ferrari’s biggest little fan.
“Zia, he has a tattoo! It’s so cool!” Seeing Alessandro get a bit bashful when your niece spoke made you curious, but you decided to not bring a lot of attention to that.
“Does he?” You said. Of course you already knew. Being part of the Tifosi for as long as you had, Alessandro’s Guido tattoo was common knowledge. Funnily enough it was one of the questions Sophia had asked you. Which ferrari mechanic has an iconic tattoo and what is the tattoo? It was your favourite question to answer as it allowed you to bring up your precious Fiat 500 that you had named Luigi after the Fiat from the Cars movie. It technically also allowed you to bring up your own tattoo which was, again, based on Luigi from Cars. Not that you did bring it up. You’d never hear the end of it from your father.
“Uhuh! It’s a red Guido from the same movie as yours!” Trust your innocent niece to blurt to all Ferrari that you also had a Cars themed tattoo.
Alessandro was now less bashful and more intrigued about your tattoo.
“The same movie as yours?” He asked.
You chuckled and continued to smooth out Gianna’s hair as you faced Alessandro. “Yeah, a few years ago, maybe a month before Gianna was born, I got a tattoo of Luigi from Cars. In a pale red instead of the usual yellow.”
Gianna nodded her head quickly and began to excitedly tell him all about how the first movie she had ever watched with you was Cars and how it had become your thing together.
All too quickly time caught up and it was soon time for Alessandro to go back to work. Gianna had deflated a little at the knowledge but she perked up again when Alessandro had said that he would try and talk to them again after both practise sessions had finished.
“After all,” he said, kneeling in front of her but looking up at you, “I’d love to get to know you better.”
I actually love this so much (When I get back home, I'll be making a new masterlist for the non-drivers that I'm gonna be writing for) ((also, while i’m away from my computer i’m gonna be typing up some dusty requests and maybe some drafts as well on my phone so please excuse any irregular formatting i’ll try and fix them before i post them))
this is also being posted a lot later than i initially thought it would be. i had planned for it to be posted before Monaco but 😅 (also something will be coming for the monaco race but i want it to be perfect so it might be a while before that comes to light)
#formula 1 x you#f1 x reader#f1 fluff#formula one#formula 1#alessandro fusaro#alessandro fusaro x reader#alessandro fusaro x y/n#alessandro fusaro x you#alessandro fusaro fluff#ferrari#scuderia ferrari#ferrari mechanics#forza ferrari
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Niall had stayed at Franklin's for a bit longer, sobering up more before taking the car home. There, he was greeted by Emma who was getting ready for bed at the time. Something seemed to be on her mind, but Niall was too busy thinking about his own guilt to notice.
Remembering how much keeping secrets from his wife had been eating at him in the past, Niall knew immediately that he had to tell her about what had happened that afternoon at Franklin's place as soon as possible. The fact that she currently seemed to be in a good mood, too, made it harder to admit, but waiting would only make it worse.
So, with a sigh and a deep breath, Niall went ahead and recalled the worst of it, how he broke his sobriety, and worse yet, how he had ended up kissing his friend in a drunken haze. For a moment, Emma was just staring at him. Niall had been preparing for the worst kind of reaction, but what he got was much different than anything he imagined. Emma was expecting another baby, and Niall felt far from being the responsible parent he was meant to be now.
[TRANSCRIPT]
Niall: "Hi, Em."
Emma: "Niall, there you are! How are Laura and Franklin doing?"
Niall: "Laura wasn't home, actually. Franklin... he's alright, yes."
Niall: *sighs* "I wanted to... talk to you about something. About, uhm... Franklin's."
Emma: "Ah, really? Well, I ought to tell you something, too, but do go first!"
Niall: "We actually ended up having, uhm... one or two drinks. Maybe more."
Emma: "Wait, what? But you were doing so well, without the alcohol."
Niall: "I know, I know, and I feel terrible about it. But... actually, that isn't all of it."
Emma: "What do you mean?"
Niall: "I suppose... the alcohol did get to me a bit too much, and I'm so, so sorry."
Niall: (sighs) "I... kissed... Franklin. And I swear it didn't mean anything! He pushed me away immediately, too, so please do not blame him. I wish I had never done it, and I hope you can forgive me. Though I do understand if you won't."
Emma: "..."
Niall: "Say something?"
Emma: "I... I suppose this isn't the best time to tell you, but... I'm with child again."
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Your Love's Been A Long Time Coming: Chapter 5
A/N: I'm sorry this took me so long. I've been dealing with a lot of writers block and I'm honestly not even sure this is any good. I have so much for Elvis and Viv that I want to get to. I hope people continue to read it. Or I'll just write it for me. But if you do read it, please please please leave a comment. I live for comments.
Need to catch up? Here is my masterlist.
Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, cussing, oral sex (m receiving), swallowing, teensy bit of angst
Word count: ~2.4k
Oh, Elvis, she thinks. Why won't you come and rescue me from myself?
******
In December of 1962, Elvis brings Priscilla over from Germany in an attempt to stop thinking about Vivian. He hosts a New Year's Eve party and invites everyone, including her. He's hoping that seeing Viv and Priscilla in the same room will help him realize that Viv is not what he's looking for. He's been thinking about it a lot and honestly, she's too independent anyway. She probably wouldn't make a good wife. Priscilla, on the other hand, is young enough to still be molded and she seems ready to do whatever he asks. Isn't that what a wife should be? He repeats it like a mantra: not Vivian. Not Vivian. Not Vivian.
At the party, Priscilla and Viv reconnect briefly. He forgot they had known each other in Germany. Elvis nods and smiles awkwardly and then she turns to move around the party, leaving him with Cilla by his side. For the most part, he's successful in staying focused on Cilla. He catches glimpses of Viv briefly as she walks through the crowd, always with a drink in her hand.
Finally, he finds himself next to her at the table with the food in the dining room with no one else around.
"You're really serious about this thing with Priscilla?" Viv asks with her eyebrows raised.
"Yeah. Why?"
"She's a teenager."
"She makes sense to me, Viv." Vivian shrugs and concedes.
"I can't argue with that. She's not very complicated, so I believe that she makes sense to you." Elvis turns to look at her suddenly. Is she jealous?
"That's not fair, Viv."
"Is it not? I'm sorry. I just think you need someone more like..." She stops short of what she was going to say. He has an idea of how that sentence would've ended, though. "It doesn't matter. You like simplicity."
Something between rage and frustration bubbles up inside him.
"Which one of my friends are you fucking tonight, Viv?" He immediately regrets saying it as her mouth pops open and her eyes get glassy. "I'm sorry-"
"No, that's fair. Maybe Red." She turns and walks away from him quickly.
"Viv!" He calls after her but she doesn't turn around. "Goddamnit."
"You okay?" Elvis hears Cilla and works to recover his facade, turning to face her.
"Oh yeah, it's nothing, baby." She smiles and he is filled with the desire to take the stairs two at a time and go to bed. Alone.
******
Vivian sits in the bathroom trying to compose herself after her conversation with Elvis. She's a joke to him. And this girl, this Priscilla, she's what he wants. She'll never be that. She wasn't that sweet and demure even when she was 17.
Someone knocks on the bathroom door and she wipes her tears, assessing her makeup in the mirror, and opens it. It's Red. But despite what she said earlier, she pushes past him and goes straight to the front door. She has no desire to see Elvis and Priscilla kiss at midnight.
******
Elvis and Vivian avoid each other as much as possible before the spring of '63 when they both pick up the film Fun in Acapulco. Viv still hasn't managed to land another speaking part, but her work as an extra keeps her paid enough to eat. And when it doesn't, Elvis makes sure she's taken care of.
Filming the same movie means being on set together and after their last encounter, it's pretty awkward. Still, when Elvis finds himself in a particular predicament, she's the only one he can find to help.
His least favorite part of this movie is the pair of tiny blue shorts they have him wearing in several scenes. They're a lot like the ones from Blue Hawaii, but for some reason these just won't come off, especially when they're wet.
That's how Elvis finds himself in this situation. He has to go the bathroom. Badly. But they're in the middle of filming. Once the director finally calls cut, he's absolutely ready to burst. He makes his way to his trailer, frantically trying to figure out how to get his shorts off. Thats when he sees Vivian.
"Viv!" She stops dead in her tracks, recognizing his voice. She turns to him.
"What, Elvis?"
"I need your help." His desperation is palpable.
"With what?"
"Just come with me, please." He grabs her hand and practically drags her to his trailer. Once inside, he shuts the door and turns to her. "I have to pee so bad I might die."
"Okay? What does that have to-"
"I can't get these fucking shorts off, Viv."
"Oh, shit."
"I'm going to piss myself."
"Well, they're already wet." He looks at her with panic on his face.
"Are you gonna help me or not?!" She tries to focus and make sure she doesn't laugh.
"Yes, come here." She tries to tug on the shorts, but they don't budge.
"What if I kinda lift them off of me before you pull."
"Yeah, let's try that." Vivian gets on her knees in front of him to pull when he says to. He looks down at her on her knees in front of him and looks at the ceiling. He whispers to himself.
"Don't get hard. Don't get hard. Don't get hard."
"What's that?" Viv asks.
"Oh! Nothing." He takes a deep breath and tries to focus on what's happening.
"Okay, I'm gonna count to three. You lift them and I'll pull down. 1... 2... 3!" She gives his shorts a firm tug and they come down to his thighs. What neither of them realized about their plan is that pulling the shorts down means his dick is going to be right in her face.
"Oh, God, I'm sorry." She tries to look away, but he whimpers, trying really hard not to pee on her. Finally, she gets the shorts down his legs and off and he runs into the bathroom. She sits in the living area with his shorts in her hand, laughing quietly.
He opens the door a little and hollers to her.
"Toss me the shorts. I think I can get them back on." But he can't. After about 12 minutes of struggling, he comes out with them stuck on his thighs, his hands covering himself. "Can you...?"
"Yes, I will. Come here." He waddles over to her with his hand still covering himself. He goes back to praying his body won't respond to the image of Vivian on her knees in front of him. He's doing okay, until she gets the shorts up higher and she puts her hand on him gently to try to stuff him into the shorts. He whimpers at her touch and becomes noticeably hard.
"God, I'm sorry..."
"It's okay; it happens, Elvis." She keeps trying to pull the shorts up despite his massive rock-hard erection.
Just then, there's a sharp knock on the door.
"Elvis, we need you back on set. Now." It's the director.
"Uh, just a second?"
"We don't have any more seconds. Wrap up what you're doing and come out. Now." They can tell by the director's tone that he assumes Elvis must be in there having sex with someone. Elvis is annoyed. That would be a much better excuse than what's actually happening.
He looks at Vivian frantically, his dick still standing at full attention with her on her knees trying to tuck it into the shorts. She whispers.
"It's not gonna fit like this. Can you... fix it?"
"Make it go away, you mean? I don't really have time to use my hand. And I can't think it away. That never works for me." It does work sometimes, but he knows it won't with the image of Viv on her knees.
"That settles it, then."
"Settles wh- OH MY GOD VIVIAN." Elvis falls backwards and braces himself as Vivian wraps her mouth around his cock and starts moving. "What the fuck are you doing?!"
He moans softly as she pulls off of him to explain.
"You need this gone. This'll work and it'll be faster than your hand. You want me to stop?" She looks up at him with his dick in her hand.
"No..."
"This is purely functional." She pulls him deep into her throat and sucks on him. His eyes roll back with the sensation of her warm little mouth on him. He's dreamed of this for so long, but the reality is better than he ever could've imagined. Her mouth moves skillfully up and down, complemented by her hand moving his foreskin back and forth. She licks a circle around the head and then deep throats him again. He grunts as his orgasm begins to build and he knows he won't last much longer.
The director pounds on the door again and hollers something, but Elvis is incapable of listening. Viv is working him with her mouth and hand, pulling out all her tricks to get him off as quickly as possible.
"Oh, god, Viv... that's so good..." He moans as she gets him closer and closer to the edge. He's gripping the counter behind him so tightly that his knuckles are white. She pulls back off of him and looks up at him with her big blue eyes, licking the precum off the tip of him.
"Let go, baby. You have to cum. Now." Something about her telling him what to do pushes him the last little bit and he tumbles into a mind-blowing orgasm, shooting his release down her throat. She swallows it easily, sucking until he relaxes, and then stops.
"Holy fuck, Viv..."
"Ah ha!" She cheers as she's finally able to get his shorts up and tuck his package into the front. Standing up, he looks into her eyes and wants to kiss her so badly. Still, despite what just happened, he's not sure he can.
"We're gonna talk about this later."
"Okay."
Just as the director is about to knock again, Elvis opens the door and walks out.
"What? I had to go to the bathroom."
******
Viv waits about ten minutes and then makes her way back to where she's supposed to be filming, in shock over what just happened. And now he wants to talk about it? What is there to say?
******
Elvis doesn't see Vivian again until the summer after the shorts incident. He can't decide if she's purposefully avoiding him or just busy, but she stays away. Part of him wonders if she's avoiding the conversation they were supposed to have after the blowjob. It never happened.
In July, Elvis is in Memphis just before he leaves for California to meet his costars and start filming his next movie. He comes across Vivian on Beale street.
"Viv!" When she sees him, she looks for an escape and doesn't see one, so she waits for him to catch up to where she is. "Where the hell have you been?"
"I've just been really busy."
"Look, I really need to talk to you. I'm leaving for California at 3. Will you come with me to Graceland? Please?" She looks around again for an exit and then looks back at him.
"Yeah."
"Good!" He grabs her hand and practically drags her to his car. They make small talk about what they've both been doing for the whole drive. Once they get to Graceland, Elvis settles them into the tv room.
"Are we ever going to talk about the head you gave me?" Viv shifts in her seat, obviously uncomfortable.
"What is there to say, Elvis? I sucked your dick to get it back in your shorts. That's it."
"That's it?!" He thinks back to the incredible orgasm he had at her doing. He wouldn't mind it happening again.
"Yeah? That's it." All of a sudden, something else bubbles up inside him and he stands up.
"VIVIAN WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?!"
"Wrong with me?!"
"Do I really mean so little to you that you can suck my cock and have absolutely no feelings about it?!"
"It was just to-"
"Get my shorts on. I know. Why am I just a sex object to you? Something to play with when you've been drinking?"
"What?" He's not talking about the blowjob anymore.
"Why do I mean nothing to you?"
"Elvis... I-"
"Why can't you see how much I-"
"Will you let me finish?!" He sits back down on the couch seething. "You don't mean nothing to me. You mean too much to me."
"Too much? What does that mean?" Vivian rolls her eyes and he's somewhere between wanting to slap her and wanting to kiss her.
"Elvis. Do you remember what I told you when you got in the fight with Joe?"
"Which part?"
"The part about how if I let myself, I could fall in love with you?" His heart pounds wildly in his chest.
"Yeah?"
"I've wanted you since the moment I met you. And not just for sex. Sex is like... I don't even know what it means for me but it's not love and you... I..." His stomach turns over and he's overcome with a need to take her in his arms and show her what love can be. Is she finally admitting what he's felt for all these years?
"Viv." He whispers it and cups her cheek in his hand. She leans into his touch. Just then, there's a knock on the door. Elvis curses loudly and then gets up to answer it. It's the Colonel.
"My boy, we need to head to the airport. You need to be in California soon." Elvis nods and then turns to Vivian, who has followed him up to the foyer. He tucks a stray piece of hair behind her ear.
"We will finish this when I get back, okay?"
She nods.
But he doesn't come back. Not this version of him anyway. The costar he goes to California to meet is a woman named Ann Margaret. And when he meets her, Vivian and all her complications become a distant memory.
But Priscilla? Priscilla won't go down so easily. She moved to the United States to marry him and she won't be deterred by the small matter of him being in love with another woman.
Elvis is trapped between three women and Vivian? She's the quietest of the three with what she assumes is the smallest claim on his heart.
She fades into the background easily, watching the feud that happens between Ann Margaret and Priscilla, her love for him never diminishing, but they never finish the conversation that they started.
******
Until next time!
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Taglist:
@ccab @elvisfatass @elvisalltheway101 @aliypop @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @tacozebra051 @your-nanas-house @deniseinmn @joshuntildawn13 @lookingforrainbows @60svintage @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69 @louisejoy86 @rjmartin11 @from-memphis-with-love @deltafalax @jhoneybees @everythingelvispresley @returntopresley
#elvis presley#elvis presley fanfiction#elvis#elvis fanfic#elvis presley fic#elvis smut#elvis fanfiction#elvis x oc#elvis presley smut#elvis presley x oc#Elvis x Vivian#Elvis Presley x Vivian choquette#your loves been a long time coming#ylbaltc
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ISAT PKMN trainer assignments
i've been having brainrot recently and i havent really seen people doing pokemon trainer aus, just a lot of pokemon mystery dungeon aus which i think require different perspectives for so i figured i may as well give it a shot.
with my assignments i was making sure to think about actual symbolism and tried avoiding the canon pokemon assignments for a] more of a challenge and b] i havent really seen all of them so if i have picked some of the same pokemon my bad.
SIFFRIN
gimmighoul: tried taking siffrin's coin once, failed, now just hangs around with him and has gotten quite attatched.
minior: a pokemon he's had as long as he can remember. gets a lot of weird looks about it though and has never seen anyone else with one.
chingling: the only pokemon caught in the castle. ding ding!
popplio: what a little clown! a fool! just a litter jester doing a preformance!
hisuian sneasel: basically siffren's dagger. i picked the hisuian one over the johtonian one because it's white.
absol: not a pokemon he had before the loops and has a sneaking suspicion those two facts are related since it seems to remember them to an extent.
MIRABELLE
morpeko: i think mirabelle would like form changing pokemon and also. near the end of floor 3 mirabelle gets like, really annoyed and then eats and is fine. thats what morpeko does.
furfrou: a pokemon with plenty of styles to choose from! she hasn't been able to get it styled recently and while she is getting nervous of it not changing, she has noticed it's happier staying as it is.
indeedee: indeedees are helpful pokemon! often used as servants, i feel mirabelle would relate with this
palafin: a hero capable of change! and paladins tend to fight for a cause, often a religious one like who mirabelle is fighting as a maiden of change.
escavalier: we don't have a fencing pokemon but we do have a lancing pokemon! also the fact a shelmet has to be traded with a karrablast is something
ISABEAU
mimikyu: isabeau is constantly putting up a facade of being a bit air headed, disguisigng himself. i also think with mimkyu wearing a cloak with him being a fashion designer would make this the most stylish mimikyu the world has ever seen
leavanny: this pokemon is known for making clothes from it's silk and any leaves it finds, making it into a clothing maker of sorts, they're also super protective.
bewear: what a big sweetie! aw it loves hugging people, it can also snap your back in two... i feel like this the most fitting attacking pokemon isa with it's bulk, cuteness and hidden scariness [something we see from isabeau when he gets... very protective of the sif nickname]
ODILE
carbink: this was my first thought for an odile pokemon, it's a little rock! and with it's links to diancie, a perfect red herring for what she's studying, they're just native to ka bue. she hardly uses it in battle.
steelix: now this is her attacking pokemon! i know it doesn't cover her primary paper type technically but it does cover her use of rock and scissors type by being steel/ground. i also think she mega evolves it from time to time, for the gems theming.
relicanth: i tried to go with the theme of old pokemon for odile, not generations wise but in the way that relicanth hasn't changed in a millenia. it's also a map, which could be interesting with the island siffrin is from.
bronzong: i can't really explain this one i just think it fits with her character? maybe it's the shape language but it is another old pokemon, showing up in the ruins in arceus so once again, more red herrings for her research.
sinistcha: ka bue is very implied to be japan or at the barest of minimums asia. odile is absolutely a tea drinker to me, this might have been one of her earlier pokemon that came with her when she left ka bue. they also have similar hair
drampa: hahahahah funny grandpa dragon joke~ drampa is reported to burn down the houses of any bullies the child they've befriended, odile has said that she would do horrible things for the party. im not fucking with you. think is not just a odile is the grandma of the party joke. i am dead fucking serious when i say this is her most in character pokemon.
BONNIE
applin: i think bonnie tried to gather apples at somepoint and it turned out to be an applin, they kept it. they seem like the type of kid to enjoy bugs [im counting the none apple bit of applin a bug cause it is to me fuck off]
alcremie: a pokemon evolved completely by accident. their milcery took a strawberry from them while cooking and in an attempt to get it back, span around enough to where it evolved. just some complete loony toons bullshit
yungoose: their first pokemon! caught back in Bambouche and their main defence between themselves and sadnesses when they left. i picked yungoose over some of the other early route mammals because a] tropical and b] i fully believe that bonnie bites people.
unovian darumaka: potentially a gift from the party, more specifically odile who was curious of darmanitan's zen form. it's obviously not a darmanitan yet but it is very useful for lighting fires to cook with.
kantonian farfetch'd: it's basically THE food pokemon being a duck carrying a leek and i opted for the kantonian form over the galarian form since the galarian form is far too cool, bonnie is cringe [/pos]
smolive: cooking oil is a crutial part of cooking are you insane and olive oil is some of them best! very useful pokemon to have on hand and it's slightly more emotionally and nervous natural creates and almost parrallel to bonnie where both end in the same outcome of tears since both are young and not yet capable of fully handling their emotions.
LOOP
gimmighoul: somehow the only pokemon they kept when they gave up on the loops, unsure if it actually remembers the loops or is just a clone...
natu [multiple]: loop can't actually catch any pokemon since, no pokeballs and they'd lose it at the end of the loop. so they've been slowly learning how to befriend all the local natu in dormont, secretly on the hunt for the roundest one. they've found shinies before and would usually be more snappy and blunt after all of those loops due to loosing them. they've gotten good at befriending them all too, being able to tell them apart and what they like. they would never admit any of this though.
#isat#isat siffrin#isat mirabelle#isat isabeau#isat odile#isat bonnie#isat loop#isat shitpost#isat text#isat txt#isat spoiler#isat pokemon#in stars and time
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All In 6
No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.
Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, power imbalance, low self esteem, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: you meet a mysterious man on a night out with your sister. (petite!reader)
based on the winning option for this poll
Characters: casino owner!Bucky Barnes
Note: sleepy af
As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.
Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.
I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖
“You need a box, doll?” Bucky flutters his fingers toward your plate, “you don’t gotta finish all that.”
You look down at the untouched half of your sandwich. You’d barely poked at the pesto salad on the side either. You can’t help it; your stomach is swirling like a storm. Aside from that, you’re so self-aware that you make certain each bite is tidy and small.
You bring the napkin to your lips before you answer, “oh, sure, I guess. Um, thank you.”
“You have a big breakfast?” He wonders as he lifts his glass, squinting at its emptiness.
“I...” you sniff. You didn’t eat at all. “I’m too nervous.”
You cringe as your honestly flows free. You don’t know why you said that. Maybe it’s the similarly empty glass in front of you. He smiles, his dimples showing handsomely on his bearded cheeks.
“You don’t gotta be,” he sets the glass down, his forearm across the table. “Is it me? I make you nervous.”
You look away and cup your chin. You purse your lips and inhale slowly. You dare to face him again. You nod into your hand.
“What about me makes you nervous?” He wonders, his eyes sparkling. It has to be obvious. So obvious that he must be teasing you.
“You know,” you murmur.
“Genuinely curious,” he clears his expression and sits back, “we’re having a good time. Good chat. So... you’re nervous, why?”
“Because you’re...” your brows squiggle, “you. I’m just me.”
“And what’s so bad about being just you?”
You scoff, “I think... maybe you made a mistake. I’m not... anything.”
“What does that mean?” He prompts.
Before you can answer, Hailee appears. The slim server offers you a refill. Bucky waits for you to answer first. You decline and he puts his hand over his own glass.
“We’ll take the cheque,” he says and she flits off to do his bidding. He returns his attention to you before you can shrink further, “well... what do you mean?”
Your eye drift evasively. He just latches on and doesn’t let go. It’s overwhelming. You watch Hailee as she taps the tablet on the bar top across the roof. You glance at Bucky again.
“I’m not tall or thin or a supermodel,” you say quietly. He leans in as he tilts his head thoughtfully.
“If I wanted that, that’s who would be sitting here with me. I don’t mind that you’re a little small. It’s... I like it, actually. And a supermodel? Doll, those types got nothing on you.”
You touch your cheeks then drag your hands away, “thanks, but...”
“But?” He echoes.
“Nothing. Nothing,” you assure him meekly, “I just... I’m not sure about all this.”
Hailee once more returns. She hands Bucky the bill and he doesn’t even look at it as he slides his wallet out of his pocket. He hands her his card and the slip of paper. Once more, she’s off.
“Not sure?” He says.
“Sorry, I just...” once more you look at the server as she swipes his card. When you look back, Bucky’s watching you intently, “please keep your money. You paid for lunch, that’s enough.”
“But doll--”
“Please, I don’t feel right taking it,” you put your palms out and drop your hands, “thank you for lunch but I’m not cut out for this.”
“Hm,” he clicks his tongue and leans his chin on his knuckles, “don’t decide right now. I get it. It’s a lot at once. So think about it and get back to me.”
“I... I’m telling you,” you wilt, “I don’t think... I’m not what you think I am.”
“I have no idea what you are, doll,” he extends his fingers under his chin, “but I like what I see and I want more.”
You shakily bring your hand to your neck. He can’t mean it. He can’t want you. No way. If you say yes, how long does that last? You didn’t come here for lunch or an ‘arrangement’. You need a job. You need something sustainable.
Besides, you never thought you’d ever consider being a prostitute. That’s what he’s suggesting, isn’t it? You’re pathetic but you have some standards.
You sigh. You said no once, maybe more, maybe not firmly enough, but he’s not hearing you. So you will ‘think about it’ and repeat yourself later.
“Alright,” you agree as you lean back and pull your hands into your lap.
“All I’m asking for is a chance,” he says. Your heart pulses tightly. He’s asking you? “Let’s get your leftovers packed up and I'll take you home.”
“Oh, uh, I can get a cab--”
“Nah,” he waves you off, “I’m here. Merv’s gotta get me back to the casino as it is.”
🃏
“You’ll call me, won’t you, doll?” Bucky asks as Merv stops outside the curb of your mother’s house.
You peek up through the tinted window and back at the man beside you. He shamelessly has his arm stretched over the seat above your shoulders, the scent of his cologne invading your nostrils. You nod dumbly before you process his words.
“Yeah, I will,” you assure him as you undo your seat belt and untangle your purse from the strap.
“Don’t leave me hanging,” he pulls his arm away and brushes your shoulder then down your sleeve.
“I won’t, like I said... I’ll think about it,” you reach for the handle and he hums.
“I had a good time. I like talking to you, doll.”
You stop yourself from fleeing like you so desperately want to do. You turn back to him. You’re struck by him, not for the first time. Someone like him noticed you and did all this. It feels like you’re drowning. You can barely think straight.
“Me too. It was really nice,” you breathe.
He stares at your, almost expectantly, and his lips curve slightly. Are you forgetting something? Heat speckles over your cheeks. Is he leaning in?
“Hey, don’t forget your leftovers,” he sits back and reaches to the other side of the seat, picking up the box.
“Oh, thanks,” you take it, your fingers touching his.
“Don’t let me keep you, ‘cause I will,” he winks, “I’m sure you got someone waiting for you.”
“Uh, yeah, my mom won’t be home yet but...” you suppress your irrelevant thoughts. You’ll give the sandwich and salad and to Roxie. She never complains for free food. “Yeah, er, thanks.”
He chuckles and claps his hand down on your leg, “too sweet, doll. It’s my pleasure and there’s a lot more where that came from.” He squeezes and removes his hand, “just making a last-ditch case for myself.” He inhales and his shoulders rise and he fixes his collar, “have a good one, alright? Take it easy, think...”
“I will,” you affirm once more, “er, bye.”
You open the door and barely keep from tripping onto the curb. You peer back one last time and attempt a smile, trying to hide the sinking pit in your chest. You don’t need to think about it. You simply cannot give him what he wants.
You shut the door and back up. You stand cluelessly and wait. When the car doesn’t move, you spin and scurry away. God, how much more awkward can you get?
You resist the urge to look back as you let yourself in through the front door. The TV babbles from the next room as you twist the lock. Roxie lazes across the couch as the fan oscillates over her. The summer heat has the space stuffy and sticky. The rented house doesn’t have central air and the portable AC crapped out last year.
“Hey,” you come up to the back of the couch, your anxiety still buzzing behind your ears. You feel different and you feel like she’ll sense it in an instant. You almost want her to say something.
She doesn’t look away from the screen as she grumbles back at you.
“Um, mom’s not home yet, right?”
“Don’t think so,” she yawns, her arm draped above her head against the arm rest. “It’s like three. You sleep all day?”
You frown. She usually sleeps later, granted, she works until sunlight most nights.
“No, I had an interview.”
“Huh, Wendy’s?” She asks. It’s probably an innocent question and a fair assumption, but it still cuts like an insult.
“No, uh, whatever, I don’t think I got it.”
“Too bad,” she says.
You leave her. She’s too enraptured with her reality TV binge. You suppose if you were just waiting to start working, you might just want to shut off too. That’s exactly what you want in that moment. To stop thinking about everything.
It’s not just Bucky and his offer or whatever you should call it. It’s about your mom and Roxie and being the resident disappointment. You don’t like being dead weight but it seems like it’s all you’ll ever be. There’s more than just yourself to think about in this and yet you just can’t see yourself saying yes.
You don’t really know what you’re saying yes to. What is it exactly that Bucky wants from you? Sunny lunches and conversations about disco music? You don’t think that’s it but you’re too afraid to think about the implication behind his proposition.
So you won’t. You won’t-- you can’t accept it. You can’t bring yourself to do... that for money. If you did and your mother ever knew the truth, you shudder to think. No, you can tell an easier lie.
Sorry, mom, didn’t pan out. Again. But I’ve been applying all around. I’ll get something.
🃏
The first text Bucky sends, you respond to. It’s the same day as your interview. No, that’s not what it was. He sends a good night and you echo the sentiment. It’s easier to pretend behind a screen.
You don’t sleep well despite his tidings. You toss and turn and don’t drag yourself out of bed until noon. Your mom’s already at work and you can’t stand to face her. Not since you told her it was another dead end. Roxie’s snoring in her room.
You go out on the back steps and sit in the sun. It’s all muddled. You know you shouldn’t. You won’t. That’s not you. And even if you could find the courage to say yes, you’re just not that girl. You aren’t the one to be flaunted on a rich guy’s arm. Or the kind to go for manicures and to wear layers of contour. And that’s what he’ll want, even if he says now, it isn’t. Men just want pretty things and you’re not.
The days pass in a similar idle daze. Every night, he texts. A little back and forth but you say you’re tired and check out after his usual, ‘sweet dreams, doll.’ Two days, three days, four, five, six. A whole week and you know that you have to say it. No. It’s almost as hard as a yes would be.
When the ‘good morning’ pops up in your notifications, you’re frozen. You can’t even fake it. You can’t hit the automated reply generated by the app. You just lock your phone and put it in your nightstand drawer. You’re a coward, just like you’ve always been.
You scroll through the job boards. You’ve been spending most of your waking hours trawling them. The postings don’t come as quickly as you apply. Some, you’re sure, you’ve submitted your resume to at least twice. Well, that shows dedication, right?
You hear your mom come home just after five. You finally sit up from your chronic hunch and groan at the pang between your shoulders. Ugh, that’s not good. You get up and come out as your mother sighs and drops her purse on the table.
“Hey, I took some drumsticks out,” you say, “I’m gonna do the buffalo sauce.”
“Oh, hon, that’s amazing, I’m so tired,” she drops into a chair and props a foot on her knee, rubbing her arch, “I need new insoles.”
You watch her guiltily, chewing your lip. Even if you’re not going to say yes, you almost wish you’d taken that thousand dollars. She wouldn’t have to do overtime so much. You cross your arms.
“What do you want with it? We got some of the crinkle fries or--”
The doorbells chimes and you hesitate. It isn’t often it rings. Not for anyone by the landlord on an impromptu visit. You peer over at the same time as your mom. She sends you a curious look as she stands.
She hobbles away and you feel guilty for letting her. You shy away and wait by the counter. You listen to her footfalls and the schlock of the front door latch as she slides it back. It opens with the usual squeak and you hold your breath as you listen. A low drone meets your mother’s exhausted hello.
Oh. It wouldn’t be... It can’t be. You assure yourself that you don’t recognise the timbre but even your denial isn’t that strong.
Slowly, you make your way to the hall and creep down towards your mom as she keeps the door half-way shut against her. It’s him. You hear him say your name. Oh gosh.
“I’m just following up on her interview. I called but maybe her battery died?” Bucky says.
You wince and near your mom.
“Uh, yes, she’s here, I’ll just go--”
“Mom,” you interject and she jumps in surprise.
“Oh,” she trills with laughter, “there she is.”
She lets the door open as you step up next to her, your chest fraught with dread. You stare at Bucky as his blue eyes bore into you. Your mom touches your elbow gently. You’re suddenly overly conscious of your pajama pants and baggy tee.
“I’ll let you two... chat,” she retreats and leaves you there to his mercy. You can’t beg her to stay without giving yourself away.
As she heads back down the hall, you step outside and draw the door shut. You know better than to trust her not to eaves drop. How many times had she listened through the doorway when Roxie had one of her boyfriends over.
“Hey, doll,” Bucky crosses his arms. Is he mad? Does he know you were ignoring him or does he really think your phone died?
“Hi, uh...”
“You didn’t answer my texts,” he intones.
“Um, yeah, I... I’ve been... distracted.”
He nods, a skeptical wrinkle in his forehead, “sure. It's been a week, lots of time to think.”
You gape up at him. He wants an answer. Now. You have one, but you just can’t say it. You’re silent as tension roils in the humid air. He swoops back a dark lock but doesn’t break his gaze.
“Look, I... I appreciate your offer and everything else but what you’re asking... if my mom knew...”
“Hm, yeah,” he puts his hands on his hips, “I thought of that too. You’re a sweet thing and I can see she loves you. It’s unorthodox but I only wanna take care you. Not everyone will understand that.”
“Right, so I don’t think--”
“Well, I think she’d be more suspicious if you walked in there and told her I came all the way here not to offer you a job,” he insists, “don’t you?”
“Y-yeah, but--” you sputter.
“So, she doesn’t need to know why I’m here, does she? You can tell her you’re working at the casino.”
“Sure, but I don’t...” you shake your head and look down. He’s right.
If you tell your mom you missed out on another job, you don’t think you could ever look her in the eye again. It wouldn’t just be another let down but an actual lie. You have an opportunity here. Maybe not the one you thought, but it’s money. After years of living off your mom’s hard work, you owe her. What’s a secret to her not having to work twelves?
“We get along, don’t we?” He asks.
You nod. He’s been less than unkind. You can’t really name a single fault on his part.
“So, I don’t get it. The money, it’s just a bonus,” he explains, “don’t think of it as me paying you to spend time with me, so much as us enjoying each other and both getting the perks from that.”
“But... but...” you wet your lips with your tongue and clamp them tight.
He’s cornered you. If you had a few more hours, you could’ve found the strength to take your phone out and type out your rejection but face-to-face? You’re hopeless and you think he knows that. He watches you expectantly. He isn’t hoping, he knows.
You blow out between your lips and turn your head away, “she can’t ever know.”
“Doll, for you, I'll keep my lips sealed,” he says, “whatever you want, you got it. That’s the deal.”
#bucky barnes#dark bucky barnes#dark!bucky barnes#bucky barnes x reader#fic#dark fic#dark!fic#series#au#casino au#all in#mcu#marvel#avengers#captain america#winter soldier
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So Hear My Voice Remind You Not to Bleed
Pairing: Daryl Dixon and Fem!Reader (pre-relationship)
Setting: Alexandria
Warnings: Typical TWD violence and gore; Injuries; angst
Summary: You're injured and benched, unable to go with Daryl on runs. When someone else is brought in to take your place, it does not go well.
A/N: for @darylsgarden. I had mixed feelings about this and had a couple of wonderful friends ( thank you @shadowcitrine and @enlightndone!🩵) read it and help me out. I hope it's at least close to what you were looking for 🩵
“It doesn’t even hurt.”
“Uh huh.” Daryl stopped preparing his bag and stepped across the living room, beckoning you with a wave of his hand. “Then walk over here without limpin’.” You narrowed your eyes and pushed yourself up off the couch, setting your jaw.
You didn’t even make it a single step before falling forward with a choked off shout.
And, of course, he was there to catch you as you crumbled.
“Thought so.” He said with a hint of a smirk, depositing you back onto the couch. “Doc said ya gotta stay off’a it a couple’a weeks an’ that’s whatcha gonna do.” You whined and flopped around like a fish out of water. “Stop.” He chuckled, grabbing his bag. “Got paired up with someone who just got here ‘til ya get better.”
You stilled, brow creasing. “You got a new partner. Who said? Rick?”
Daryl continued to shoulder his bag, then his crossbow. “Deanna.” Why would Deanna step in? “Said she needs to see what the woman can do to help. She’s s’posed to be good with a bow but I dunno.”
Woman? Bow? You already didn’t like this suggestion. “Oh.” It was all you could think of to say. You didn’t want him to go before when you thought he was going out alone. Now that you knew he was going with a strange woman, you really didn’t want him to go. But why? Daryl was your best friend. You didn’t have any say in his comings and goings, and why should you?
A knock on your door startled you out of your thoughts, Daryl watching you with a flat expression.
“Guess that’s her. See ya.” He started toward the door, and you found yourself leaning nearly off the couch to see who was on the other side. When he opened it, your breath caught.
Her long blonde hair was tied back in a ponytail, a bow and quiver somehow anchored to her back. She was almost as tall as Daryl, lean and curvy in all the right places. Shit. She was gorgeous.
“Uh, bye.” You muttered. Daryl didn’t even regard you. Maybe he hadn’t heard. Or maybe he was too busy ogling the beautiful woman in front of him. You couldn’t tell from his position. What you could see was the woman giving your run partner an appreciative once over before smiling.
“Hey! You must be Daryl. I’m Angie.” She held out a hand, which the archer ignored with a grunt, pushing his way past her to walk to his bike. He was taking the bike? You sighed. You weren’t supposed to care. Daryl was your friend. Not your—he was your friend.
And you just kept telling yourself that.
Even a week later, when you were able to be up and about but not without difficulty, things felt—different. Daryl was always gone with Angie, like he was at that very moment. Now that you could actually move, you went about slowly cleaning up the house the two of you shared and started making something for dinner. You could leave Daryl’s in the oven for him to eat later.
You had just finished your own when you heard the roar of the bike, saw the headlights illuminate the walls inside the dining room window, sending the shadows scattering. You found yourself excited to see him, to show him you were mobile. Hobbling over to the window, you felt silly for the ridiculous smile splitting your face but you didn’t feel that way for long.
Angie was standing in front of Daryl at the bike, her bow in her hand at her side. He had already unlatched his crossbow from the back of the bike and had it across his back. She was smiling brightly with her perfect teeth and small creases next to her bright blue eyes, looking every bit like a model in the middle of the apocalypse. And Daryl—his lips were turned up on one side, a very Daryl smile that he gave when he was relaxed and in a good mood.
You had known the man since the quarry and it had taken months to earn that smile. Angie was getting it in less than a week?
You should have turned away. Spying on them wasn’t right. Daryl wouldn’t be pleased if he caught you, no matter what he was doing. He never liked feeling as though he was being watched too closely.
You should have turned away but you didn’t.
And then you wished you had.
Angie reached out as she spoke, her words muffled and distorted through the glass. Her long, slender fingers wrapped around his bicep and squeezed, her thumb stroking the skin there. Daryl glanced at her hand but that was it. He didn’t ask her to remove it, didn’t step back to increase the distance between them.
You didn’t want to admit that you were jealous. Even as your mind and heart both screamed only I can touch him that way—for two entirely different reasons—you refused to grant it a name.
You couldn’t take anymore, limped away from the window and climbed the stairs with more than a few whimpers of pain. Daryl would usually help you to your room at night and back down in the mornings. But you didn’t want to see him, felt an anger toward him that was just as confusing as it was unjustified. You felt the same anger toward Angie, a woman you knew nothing about beyond the things Daryl would tell you.
And he didn’t tell you a lot.
You still should have been happy that Daryl both wanted to share something with you and that he had found someone that seemed to make him happy enough to gab about them, limited as it was.
But you weren’t happy.
It hurt. You hurt. Your heart felt constricted, wrapped in a cord that would tighten with each breath, faster and faster with each moment you spent thinking of him just outside, smiling at her.
She didn’t deserve his smile.
She hadn’t been there when Merle was left behind in Atlanta. She hadn’t been there when Sophia went missing and Daryl ran himself ragged trying to find her. She wasn’t the one to care for him after he’d fallen and was shot. She hadn’t been the one whose arms he’d finally chosen to let hold him when Merle died. She hadn’t run to him and felt his relief at being reunited after Terminus. She hadn’t walked along with him and coaxed him to drink just enough water to stay alive on the road. And she damn sure hadn’t stood up and told everyone he needed his own place in Alexandria so he wouldn’t feel more trapped than the gates already made him feel.
That had been you. Always you.
The door opened and closed downstairs, your name being called. You could hear the concern, knew it would be there at not finding you downstairs. You shimmied out of your jeans and climbed into bed—your back to the door—and just listened. Daryl methodically looked around, his voice carrying from different rooms throughout his search. Your room would be last because it would be the last place he’d think of you being. Not without his help.
The oven door opened and closed, too quickly for him to grab the food. He was checking to make sure you had been there. Likely spotted your used dishes as well. You barely heard his boots on the stairs. Daryl, for all his height and muscle, moved like a spirit. Still, you knew his gait, what to listen for that signaled his approach.
You drew up the comforter just as the soft knock came and a quiet call of Y/N? that you decided to not answer. The light from downstairs was pale in your room, starting on the floor and soon bathing your bed and walls. He didn’t say anything, simply closed the door and descended the stairs just as quietly.
And somehow, that’s what made the tears come.
There were two days of tense air in the house before Daryl’s next run. Your ankle had improved but you were still unable to put weight on it. Denise advised you to stay off of it but you had waved her off with a yeah yeah, absolutely zero intention of heeding her advice.
When you arrived at your home, Angie was already leaning against Daryl’s bike like she belonged there. The sight infuriated you. Your attempt to pass her by was quickly foiled by the woman herself, her hand coming up to tap a finger on your shoulder.
“It’s Y/N, right?”
Sighing, you turned, sitting your bad foot up on the toe of your boot to keep the pressure from taking you down. “Yeah.”
“I’ve been dying to meet you. Daryl’s told me a lot about you.”
“Funny. He hasn’t told me much about you.” She didn’t seem fazed. I’m glad he’s so chatty with you. “Nice to meet you.” You said in place of your inner monologue. “Excuse me.” You started to turn when she stood straight.
“Hey, uh—I was just wondering. Are you and him a thing?” She flipped her hair—braided today—over her shoulder.
“A thing?” You knew exactly what she meant, but feigned ignorance. It was not a conversation you wanted to have.
“Yeah, you know—a couple.”
Closing your eyes, you inhaled through your nose and exhaled through your mouth. “No. Why?” You didn’t even realize you had clenched your fists until her eyes flitted down and back up, forcing you to relax lest she tell Daryl you were being hostile toward her.
“No reason. He’s a great guy, isn’t he? Handsome too.” Now she was just trying to push your buttons.
“Yeah. The best, actually.” Don’t cry, don’t cry, do not cry. “Don’t hurt him.” You said flatly—a clear warning—and limped your way up the steps and inside.
“Where ya been?” Daryl’s voice greeted you before the door had even closed. He was on the couch, lacing up his boots. You regarded him silently for a moment, allowing Angie’s words to sink in before setting your jaw and squaring your shoulders.
“I’m going with you today.”
His hands stilled, frozen for a moment before he sat back a little and placed his forearms over his knees. Piercing blue eyes scanned over you before settling on your bum ankle, the urge to place your foot flat on the floor too intense to disregard. “Nah. Y’ain’t ready.”
“You don’t get to make that call.” You snapped, more harshly than you had intended, but it got your point across. His eyes narrowed, his own jaw tightening.
“Maybe not, but I do get to say who goes with me an’ it ain’t you. Not today.” The archer went back to his boots while you gaped at him, lacing the right one up before getting to his feet and grabbing his things.
“Why not? Because suddenly Angie is better than me?”
Daryl scoffed. “Stop.” He went for the door, opening it a couple of inches before your palm landed flat against the surface and shoved it closed. “The hell ya doin’?!”
“I won't stop.” You mocked, drawing your lips back in a snarl. “You’ve been up her ass since you met her. Hardly ever here and when you are, you don’t even talk to me.”
“The fuck you on ‘bout? We go on runs, get the things people need. Ya forget food an’ meds ain’t just down at the convenience store anymore, Y/N?” He pulled the door open again, and again, you pushed it shut. “Let go.” His voice had dropped into that serious tone, the warning before the anger.
“No. I’m going with you. I’ll let you open this door when you agree to that.” You stood straighter, tucking your lip between your teeth to stave off the whimper when you dared place your weight on the healing ankle. Of course, Daryl and his hyper awareness caught it.
“Guess it ain’t openin’ cause y’ain’t goin’.” He tried once more with the same result, this time letting his burdens fall to the floor in order to face you, nearly nose to nose. “Alright, ya got my attention.” He growled. It had been so long since he had spoken to you with such enmity, you couldn’t suppress a jarring flinch.
Swallowing hard, you attempted to control the wobbling of your bottom lip. “Please, take me with you.”
“How many times I gotta say no?! Y’need to take your ass to that couch an’ let your damn ankle heal ‘fore I even think ‘bout lettin’ back out there.”
“Daryl.”
“No, Y/N.”
With a deep breath through your nose, you stepped backward, freeing up the space. “Fine. But maybe you should stay with Carol for a while when you get back.” Giving him your back, you didn’t bother to hide the limp.
“Y’don’t mean that.”
You needed to force yourself to keep walking when you heard the dejection in his tone. “I do.” You didn’t. “I don’t need you here.” You did.
“Y/N—”
“Angie’s waiting.” You detoured at the last second and veered into the kitchen, seeing him from the corner of your eye, his hand lowering as if he had been reaching for you. Your heart was beating in your ankle by the time you were leaning heavily against the countertop.
When the door closed, the floodgates opened.
Two days. Daryl and Angie had been gone for two days. It wasn’t anything new to be held up on a run, but there were always close calls involved and you couldn’t imagine Daryl battling his way through herds or humans without you at his side. The two of you predicted one another’s movements, flowing and fighting together like a well oiled machine, always ending up victorious and on your way home.
Did he have that with her now?
“You know it’s not like that with the two of them, right?” Carol looked up from beneath her lashes as she chopped up the herbs and available vegetables for the stew. You knew it was more of an admonishing statement and not entirely a question.
“I don’t know that and neither do you.” You replied bitterly before tipping your glass to your lips. Carol smiled, that suspicious grin like she knew something you didn’t.
“I know Daryl.” She picked up the cutting board and used the knife to scrape the occupying ingredients into the pot. “Why does it bother you so much anyway?”
“He’s my best friend.” The answer came out a little too quickly.
The other woman chuckled. “Is that all?”
“Yes.” You countered almost gibingly. She only spared you an arched brow before turning to place the pot on the stove. You decided to ignore the intensely foreign fluttering in your chest and began spinning the glass between your palms. “Do you think they’re okay?”
“I—”
The knock at the door was sudden and urgent, repeating after only a few heartbeats. Your questioning expression met Carol’s. Spinning on the island stool, you eyed the door until it was opened. Carol’s hand on the edge tightened until her knuckles were white, but you could only make out quiet words and someone’s heavy breaths. Hobbling from your perch, you grabbed the door and pulled it back further.
Angie was a mess, covered in dirt and blood and walker innards. “Y/N.” She panted.
Your heart dropped into the pit of your stomach. “Where’s Daryl?” You didn’t remember ducking beneath Carol’s arm or pushing past Angie. The pain in your ankle became a mere afterthought as you walked backwards toward the steps, awaiting information.
“He’s in the infirmary. He’s asking for you.”
You didn’t wait, running with only the slightest hitch in your step. Daryl was more important than any amount of discomfort. Your mind was running rampant with scenarios. What if he was bit? Dying? What if he died before you made it to him? The last thing you had said to him was that you didn’t need him.
And it was such a lie.
“Y/N, wait!”
You tried to ignore her, the infirmary within sight. You needed to get to him so that you could breathe again.
When her hand caught your shoulder, you reacted almost violently, throwing her away from you and almost to the dirt. “What?!” You bellowed. “What could possibly be more important than Daryl right now?!”
“Lana is!” She answered quickly. “My Lana!” Breathing heavily, you shook your head and threw out your arms, a silent but gestured question. “My wife.”
You felt like the wind had been punched right out of you. “Your—your wife?” Damn you, Carol!
“Yeah. I think there’s been a huge misunderstanding.”
“You’re telling me.” You muttered, looking toward the infirmary with an expression of remorseful longing.
“I asked those questions because—because that man is so obviously head over heels for you that it’s absurd he hasn’t made a move. I thought maybe—maybe I could push things along.” She rubbed at the back of her neck, her eyes brightening at something she saw just over your other shoulder. When you turned, a dark haired woman was making her way over, a toddler on her hip. “I just—he’s not much of a talker—until I mention you.” Another glance at the other woman. “I’m sorry.”
When she started to leave, you reached out a hand, the new information still pinballing around in your head. “I’m sorry.” You had treated her—thought of her—so unfairly, and still, she smiled at you.
“Go on. He’s waiting for you.” And then she was walking away to kiss her wife before converting to a motherly gentleness, her lips pressed to her son’s forehead.
God, you were an asshole.
To her.
To Daryl.
Your ankle only received a moment to remind you it was still weak before you continued your journey to the infirmary.
“M’fine! Quit proddin’ at me!”
The sound of his voice gave your heart permission to beat again. You stood at the door, listening to him argue with Denise until the woman finally gave up with a huff and a clang of metal. Opening the screen door, you limped inside with a hiss, the adrenaline draining out of you, no longer blanketing the pain. You would definitely be set back a week or so after this.
Daryl was on the exam table, filthy and cut up, shirt open and left foot propped up on a pillow. You could have laughed at the irony if you weren’t so relieved at seeing him there and breathing and whole. Alive.
His ranting came to an abrupt halt when he noticed you in the doorway, eyes softening. His entire body seemed to visibly relax with an audible exhale.
“Y/N.”
You didn’t even try to control your quivering lip this time and rushed to cross the distance even with Denise scolding you in the background.
Your arms wound around his neck and his around your back. “Daryl. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it—I didn’t—”
“S’fine. Know ya didn’t.” He whispered against your temple. Denise cleared her throat behind you and the weight of one of Daryl’s hands disappeared before returning with renewed pressure. The sound of the door opening and closing signaled that he had—in one way or another—told Denise to get lost. Neither of you spoke until you pressed your face into the side of his neck and began to sob. “Hey, m’okay. Just fell on my ass.”
“How?” You sniffled.
“Window was in my way.”
You laughed wetly, his shoulders bouncing with a breathy chuckle of his own.
“Idiot.” You chided, pulling away to wipe at your eyes. He watched you gather your bearings, blue eyes dancing between yours. “Are you really okay?”
“Yeah.” His hand was so gentle against your face, thumb sweeping over your cheek to wipe away the tears. “Need to talk to ya ‘bout Angie.”
You shook your head but placed your hand upon his so that he didn’t dare move it. “She beat you to it. I’m so sorry. I was being a jealous asshole.” He tilted his head and squinted.
“Jealous cause I was spendin’ so much time ‘round her?” It was like he knew the answer that you hadn’t quite accepted as truth yourself.
“Among other things.” You rubbed your lips together and ducked your head. Daryl hummed in question, his hand sliding down to your jaw, thumb absently stroking across your bottom lip. Your voice instantly decided to become lost in your throat, your mouth opening when his hand fell away. “Daryl, I—” You almost bolted, felt the insane urge to run begin to vibrate throughout your legs from a nervous twitch that started in your stomach and spread throughout your chest.
“That man is so obviously head over heels for you—”
Your lips were on his before your brain had even fully given the order for you to move, likely startling you just as much as it had him—if the sharp inhale through his nose was anything to go by. So, you stayed there, frozen with your mouth against his, neither of you moving until it was so awkward that you thought more than once of how great it would be for the earth to open up and swallow you. Humiliation coloring your cheeks, you began to pull away—and then his mouth moved over yours, his warm palm coming to rest on the side of your neck. Brilliant as you were, you pulled back in shock, wide eyes blinking at him. Cerulean pools were shimmering with horror and shame.
“That bad, huh?” He asked, dropping his hand and picking at a patch of dry skin on his palm. His eyes lowered to follow the movement.
“No!” You blurted. Daryl actually flinched and reeled back. “No, no. It wasn’t—there’s no way it could be—ah, fuck it.” Your hands cupped either side of his face, pulling him to meet you in the middle. There was no hesitance on either side, mouths moving, tongues dancing, a delicate exploration of new territory, both literally and figuratively. His hands settled on your ribs, fingers flexing, trying to pull you closer when there was already so little space between you.
When you parted, it wasn’t from a lack of oxygen, but from Daryl attempting to alter the angle, forgetting that you were no longer alone in the land of bum ankles.
“Ow, ow, ow!”
You pulled away and jumped back, hands in the air to ensure he knew that you were no longer touching him—as if he weren’t already missing it. “What? What happened?”
“Ankle.” He hissed, gingerly placing his foot back on the pillow. Once the pain had ebbed, he chuckled and beckoned you back over with a wave. “Looks like we’ll both be trapped at home, sunshine.”
“There are worse things.” You brushed a strand of hair away from his face. “We have to talk about this.” You knew you sounded scared, and you were. Everything had just changed in the blink of an eye, the man you knew as your best friend had just suddenly become more, and it was terrifyingly exciting.
“Yeah, I know. Couch ain’t big enough for both’a our lame asses.”
You giggled and shook your head. “Guess it’s off to Carol’s extra bedroom.” When he arched a dark brow, you etched the most serious expression you could summon onto your face. “Strictly for logical reasoning, Mr. Dixon. We can’t climb stairs. She has one bedroom on the first floor. Lecher.”
“First time I been called that.” He gave you that smile, the one that was so special, and seeing it then, you realized that he hadn’t given Angie that smile at all. It was yours and yours alone.
And you’d need to thank the gorgeous woman with the bow.
#murda writes#daryl dixon#the walking dead#daryl dixon x reader#daryl dixon fanfiction#daryl dixon angst#daryl dixon x female reader#daryl dixon the walking dead#daryl dixon twd#Spotify
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my fellow Pedro Scout 🫡
Beefro, i must know. what is each Chubby P-Boy’s post-full belly ritual/routine? when they simple cannot stuff themselves anymore (impossible, i know)?
THIS WHOLE EXERCISE IS GOING TO BE THE DEATH OF ME, SCOUT STATY!
Alright... are we ready? There are 11 - yes, E L E V E N - P-boys in the Bistro and I'm not going to leave a single one out!
Thanks for the ask, @hellfire-state-of-mind - I hope this helps sate your insatiable need for knowledge!
Yours in sin,
Beefro👌🥩💜
Frankie [The Catfish & The Mouse]
He's only hit his absolute, stuffed-to-the-gills threshold a handful of times and at the end of each one, Frankie has found himself on the couch. Mouse is cuddled up with him, offering soothing belly rubs and maybe a lazy hand job to get his mind off of how full he truly is. He can't say he hates the feeling and he likes the fact that Mouse is all over him when he's in this state.
Joel [Joel Miler & his Darlin']
This man doesn't have the willpower to not hit that limit at least once a week. He's obsessed with Darlin's cooking, and he cannot hold himself back for very long. So the routine is this: Darlin' listens to Joel exclaim his regrets while also praising her cooking skills; they go home and Joel complains about how many steps there are to their home and then again to their bedroom; Darlin' gets him a glass of water and piles the pillows so he can lay back but not flat on the bed; Joel complains about how much harder it is to get his pants off and Darlin' helps him get undressed; Joel usually lets out a gunshot sneeze or two before falling into a food coma while Darlin' gives him a foot or belly rub. Joel does not learn his lesson.
Pena [Javier Pena & his Sweetheart]
Much like Joel, Pena doesn't like to admit he can't control himself when the food is just that banging. Unlike Joel though, Pena is completely in denial that his eating habits are the culprit of his over stuffed and uncomfortable belly. HIs lovely Sweetheart can just roll her eyes and and offer a soothing shoulder rub while he grumbles over paperwork while sucking on a hard candy. Until Pena admits this is all his doing, this is how he's gonna handle being too full.
Dave [Dave York & Kitten]
We saw what Dave's ritual is when he has one too many Little Debbie's snackcakes in Play Nice. The man literally just wants to be coddled but still call the shots. Luckily for Kitten, Dave is a creature of habit and that isn't about to change any time soon.
Dieter [Dieter Bravo & Cookie]
Sex. He just wants to bump uglies when he's overly full. He once mentioned to Cookie that the increased heart rate and body heat makes the food digest quicker... or something scientifically inaccurate, but she's not going to complain. If Cookie isn't around to get on all fours for him (or ride his face, dick, where ever...), he's completely fine with putting on a b-grade porno version of one of his own movies and beat off into a pocket pussy. Dieter enjoys this too much to ever take on anther role that has a weight limit.
Joel [the BEEF | #1: Joel Miller]
Why are you here? So what if he ate a whole box of Wal-Mart brand waffles and several pizza pockets? What do you want? Oh you want to... to help Joel? No. He's busy trying to keep his mind off how full he is by watching the garage sale across the street through his blinds. No matter what, this man is not going to admit he's too full and he's gonna double down on who ever asks - even Sarah - and say to GET OFF HIS LAWN.
Ezra [Ezra & Cricket]
Much like Dieter, Ezra is acutely aware of how much more sensitive he is when he's in a heightened state - like being overly full. He knows the inflated and loquacious string of words to coo at Cricket to signal he's ready to put his serpentine rocket to good use in her winking eye of Kevva. He's not going to change this method, even when he feels over exerted and almost nauseous - it's all part of the thrill for him.
Tim [HeftyThrowaway - And eat it, too]
Unlike the rest of the P-boys. Tim is an enigma. So far, we only know he really enjoys cake. I guess we'll have to see what he's like when he officially joins the Bistro in Some Like it Hot.
Frankie [HeftyThrowaway - Being Neighbourly]
This version of Frankie really enjoys the feeling of being overly full - he just loves food too dang much to not get his kicks from sitting back after a few plates of spaghetti and meatballs to not revel in it.
Marcus [Marcus Pike & Dex]
Marcus is a stats man and he's competitive. He can tell you almost down to the bite of food - before he eats, mind you - how much it'll take to get that full, and if he pushes that limit? all the better. His post stuffing rituals include cuddles and tummy rubs courtesy of Dex, with lots and lots of praise.
BigFish Morales [On the Waterfront]
The chokehold this man has on me... If he found his limit, he'd want to get the upper hand on someone else (considering the shepherd's pie got it on him), and a good old fashioned blow job would be in order. He wants relief without having to do a damn thing, so y'all better get on your knees.
#pedro scouts#asknado 2024#pedro scout badges#pedro scouts of tumblr#pedro pascal#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal tummy#you ask beefro answers#thot tank#you asked beefro answered#🥩
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