#......now i just need to gather up 10 thousand fucking dollars

[simptasia]

mum's funeral was today. it was a lovely service

i feel much better now that she's laid to rest

[sp00kycrumpet]

Paradise. (6/10)

Pairing: Javi Gutierrez x f!reader

Rating: E

Tags: Javi is baby, fluff, holiday romance, Nick Cage is Nick Cage, reader is bilingual

Warnings: swearing

Summary: Working as Nicholas Cage's personal assistant was your favourite job; so when he asked you to accompany him to Mallorca for this birthday party he'd been invited to, you were more than happy to go. What you didn't anticipate was the host himself.

Will also be posted on my AO3

(Part One) (Part Two) (Part Three) (Part Four) (Part Five)

A day later, you were woken up from your nap by some commotion going on outside, you sat up from where you'd dozed off on the couch to see Javi leading Nick through to the dining room followed by… Addy and Olivia?! You hadn't heard anything about them coming out here so you were startled to see them here. You jumped up off the couch and moved to follow them.

"Olivia?" You called out, the older woman turning to look at you, she looked exasperated but almost happy to see you. She gave a tight smile as she paused to see you. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, Nick's new bestie called us and made out he was dying or some shit. Turns out he was trying to help Nick 'creatively' apparently." She rolled her eyes, glancing over her shoulder as Javi had spotted the two of you. "We're going for lunch, Javi thinks he can help. Like he can do better than the thousands of dollars we spent on therapy already. I'll come and meet you after, it's good to see you. Addy will be glad to see you too." She turned on her heel and carried on after the group, Javi giving a smile as he held the door open for the family. He excused himself for a moment, coming to you.

"Sorry my dear, I am hoping to try and help Nick. He has a lot in his heart regarding his family and it's stunting his creativity like you said. Come and join us later?" He smiled softly, squeezing your hand as he passed you to go and ask the staff for some food. You sighed softly, Olivia was going to hate this and you knew Nick would be more stressed than before the trip. You went back to the lounge, tidying away the blanket you'd been wrapped up in and resisting the urge to go and see if you could help. Luckily, about an hour later, Nick came out to find you.

"You need to pack your stuff. We're leaving tonight." He has a seriousness to his voice you'd not heard many times and it put you on edge.

"Nick? Why? What's going on?" He ran a hand over his face, watching you for a moment.

"Remember when I warned you to be careful about spending time with Javi?" You groaned a little, folding your arms over your chest.

"This again?"

"Please listen to me. That night I went into town to read Javi's screenplay, I was grabbed by the CIA. They've been watching Javi. The olive business is just a front to seem normal. He's the head of the cartel, he kidnapped the governors daughter. They've had me spying on him and gathering intel so they can arrest him. But I've been made and now, we need to go." You stared at Nick for a long moment before you burst out laughing.

"You're fucking with me. Funny Nick, really funny." Nick just kept serious, watching you before shaking his head.

"I wish I was. I know you're attached to Javi but he is a dangerous man. We have to leave. Pack your stuff and keep Olivia and Addy in house until I come back." Your head was spinning trying to make sense of it. The kind, sweet man who had been such a gracious host and stolen your heart was wanted by the CIA?? You wanted to find Javi and ask him but something in Nick's face told you to just do what he asked. You nodded and turned on shaky legs to go back to your room, keeping your calm so staff didn't notice anything. You were almost done packing when Olivia and Addy arrived at your room. You embraced both women, all three of you trying to make sense of the situation as you waited for Nick to come back for you.

"Did you know any of this?" Olivia asked, you shook your head, chewing lightly on the inside of your lower lip. The three of you had moved into the room where you and Javi often watched movies. Olivia was pacing and trying to wrap her head around it all while Addy lingered by a window, staring outside.

"No. Nothing. Nick has been a little weird lately but… it's Nick! I thought he was just having a moment. If I'd have known any of this…" You sighed and ran a hand through your hair. Olivia nodded and seemed to believe you, Addy let out a frustrated sigh.

"This is ridiculous. I bet they're outside now just laughing at us!" She exclaimed and pulled the door open to go and see. You both called after her but she didn't stop. Olivia was quick to follow her, you jumped up off the couch to try and stop both of them. The front door was wide open as Addy had stormed out, you jumped when Olivia let out a scream. A man had suddenly stepped out and grabbed Addy, making quick work of shoving her into a car while Olivia was grabbing at him and trying to stop him. He spun around and pointed a gun at you both. You grabbed Olivia and dragged her back into the house.

"Olivia, we will get her back!! I promise you!" She was sobbing and trembling as you bundled her into your arms, wishing Nick would come back and have some idea of what to do. If he really was working for the CIA then surely they'd be able to help?

---

The two of you hid in the living room again, peering out of the window between the curtains for any sign of someone coming back. You'd just gone to get your phone from where it was on charge when Gabriela seemingly appeared from nowhere.

"What happened?!" You stared at her for a moment, torn between trusting her and just staying far away. Instinctively you stood between her and Olivia, eyes never leaving Gabriela as the other woman watched you both in confusion.

"Like you don't know. You were probably sent to kill us off before Javi gets back!" Gabriela blinked, her gaze flickering from you to Olivia then back again.

"You found out about the other family business?" She asked softly, you could feel every muscle in your body tensing in fight or flight mode.

"You're damn right we did. They took Addy, Javi took Nick. If you're going to kill us then I'm afraid we won't go down without a fight." Your jaw tensed as you watched her, Gabriela sighing softly as she moved to perch on the arm of the couch beside her. After a moment of silence, she explained everything. How Javi was just the face but Lucas was the head of the organisation, how Lucas was screwing Javi over and doing whatever he wanted - including kidnapping the governor's daughter, and now Addy.

"Javi is a good man. He tries to use his money for good and work honestly with the olive business. But that's why this place is so private and there's always some kind of security." You weren't sure whether to believe her at first but the look on her face told you she was being genuine. Plus, that now explained why Javi had grabbed you at his party when the power flickered. Maybe he'd worried it was an attempt on his life, or yours, and that's why he'd looked so relieved when the lights came back on.

"My guess is Lucas found out about Nick helping the CIA and probably threatened Javi into killing Nick. But he would never do it, Javi is a peaceful man." You nodded a little, wrapping your arms around yourself.

"And now that bleached psycho has Addy. We need Javi and Nick to come back quickly." The other two agreed with you, Olivia returning to her post by the window as she tried calling Nick again.

Minutes seemed to crawl past as the three of you tried to come up with a plan or something. Suddenly Olivia exclaimed that they were back and the three of you darted outside to meet them as the truck they were in skidded to a halt. Olivia yelled to Nick that someone had taken Addy, Nick telling you to all get into the back of the truck. You climbed up with the help of Gabriela and sat beside Olivia with an arm around her. You had no idea where you were going, Nick pulled a phone from his pocket and started talking to some woman on the other end about how Lucas had Addy. The woman was unnervingly calm as she explained what Lucas had planned before giving Nick an address of where to go to. Once she hung up, he ask Javi the best route to take before explaining that the woman on the phone, Vivian, was one of the CIA agents he'd been working with. He trusted her completely. Olivia kept asking what the plan was, but Nick repeated they'd have to see what happened when they got to wherever Vivian was sending you.

Rushing into the building; your heart was racing as you just prayed Addy was okay and Vivian was telling the truth. You barely had a chance to see inside the room when you heard Olivia exclaim in surprise and Javi suddenly pulled you against his chest, hiding your face so you didn't see the bodies on the floor.

"We need to go." Gabriela breathed, tugging on Javi's wrist as you glanced up at him. You reached out your hand to Olivia and turned to head downstairs to the car outside, looking over your shoulder as Nick stood having an internal war with himself. You caught a glimpse of the henchmen not far from Nick and the bodies of who you assumed to be the CIA agents. A horrible sight to see, especially when they'd been working on bad intel all along. Olivia called out to Nick and he eventually snapped out of it to follow you all outside. You climbed into the back of the truck, keeping close to Olivia as Nick drove following Javi's directions to his safehouse. It was insane, your beautiful holiday in Mallorca suddenly turned into a battle for survival and trying to save Addy's life.

(Part Seven)

[elizabeaufort]

7:45PM

⏤ That night the twins were giving her a migraine to sleep. She tugged them both in bed and kissed a good night kiss, and her father was in her living room watching UFC. 'You look a bit antsy today' he said to her, and she assured him it was nothing to worry about. Claude wasn't buying anything his daughter said, but he knew better not stress her out. ⏤ Her phone started blasting messages from Paul. Saying she needed to be punctual. ❛ Fuck me. ❜ She muttered to herself, deciding it was for the best to get a Lyft instead of driving.

8:03PM

Paul was the guy in which Elizabeth accidentally hit her car with him. The little incident would cost around 3 thousand to fix her scratch. He was utterly angry with her. 'That's a weird place, are you sure Ms. Beaufort?' The Lyft driver asked her, as she assured him this place was correct, he didn't have anything to worry about. He watched her leave the car and went on with his work. And now she was alone. And then, Paul appeared from the darkness of the parking lot. 'You're late.' He said as a matter of fact. ❛ Not that late. I'm just… 3 minutes late. ❜ She said stayed in front of him. 'Are you fucking kidding me? ⏤ Let's go to what interests me… Where is my money bottle blonde?' ❛ I told you, I wouldn't have this money for today. If you let me at the least for a week, I could try to gather half of them. ❜ She said calmly trying to pursue Paul to change his mind because there's no way in hell she could make this amount of money in a fucking day.

❛ I told you, I don't have any money, I can't have this money in this ludicrous short time. I can only offer you some lap dance, and extension time to pay the damage. ❜ She tried once more reasoning with Paul, but he wasn't having it. He was fuming, and she walked backward with every step close to her. Wait a moment, where was Ric? She thought to herself. 'Fucking bimbo, give my money!' Elizabeth felt as if she was talking to the walls because this man wasn't accepting her proposal. She didn't refuse to pay, she only asked to postpone the deadline, so she would have more time to save the money for him. She knew she wouldn't be able to get this money in less than 24 hours as he wanted. She tried to negotiate even the services from the club. No proposal was acceptable, to him.

Out of all the people she could ruin a car, why she was blessed with a guy like Paul?

8:20PM

She tried to parley but no agreement as it seems… Instead, Paul started to chase her, and she began to run away from him, in her high heels. And he was yelling at her, calling her offensive names.

8:41PM

One of her high heels broke, making her fall hard to the ground, scraping her knees, he pulled himself on top of her and Paul finally managed to grab her, both rolled down to the bush, at this point her purse was thrown in some area, which explained why she hadn't picked up the phone, her red coat, also in somewhere near where they were. He grabbed her by her corset, slamming her body against the tree. ❛ Please sir, I have children! ❜ She begged. 'You should've think of your children before you ruin my fucking car bottle blonde. You don't have children, let's be real blondie!' He yelled and she tried once more to talk and... 'Are you kiddin' me? Your filthy lap dances, your 25 dollars, lollipop and bubblegum won't be enough to pay my car.' ❛ I know a mechanic! He's coming! ❜ She closed her eyes when noticed his fist clenched. Mentally, counting to 10. Even in moments like this Elizabeth tries her best to maintain her calmness, but she is nervous. To be fair, he didn't give her space or time to talk about the fact she knew a mechanic. Despite not lying in any moment, he thought it was one of her lies.

For: Elizabeth ( @elizabeaufort ) Location: Deserted Parking Lot, late night

8pm

Fuck. One of the rare nights in which Ricardo was running late for something importantly, normally he arrived thirty minutes early to important things, but Tallulah (his motorcycle) was giving him a bit of trouble and he didn't own a car so there was nothing he could until he figured out what was wrong with his bike. He thought about shooting Elizbeath a text that he was running late but ended up getting heavily side-tracked with Tallulah.

8:20-30pm

After twenty minutes, Ricardo was finally on the road to pick Elizbeath up. He pulled up in front of her job, assuming se had been waiting there this whole time. When she didn't pick up his calls (eight times in a row), or replied to his text messages, the feeling of dread took over as he began to realize that she had probably gone on ahead without him. Of all days for him to be running late, why did it have to be tonight? If anything had happened to her due to him.... Ricardo shook his head of the thought. Before taking off, he reached behind him to make sure the black pistol he had brought was still tucked in nice and snug.

8:40pm

Luckily the spot wasn't far from Gentille Fille. He parks his bike in a random spot of the lot, scanning it, letting out a small sigh of relief when he doesn't see Elizabeth's car here. There were just a couple of tall bushes that blocked some spots from view, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Maybe she had changed her mind? Even so the lack of communication was not like her. So, he sends another text to tell her he was here, and it's only as he awaits the respond that he hears some commotion coming from around the corner of one of the bushes. He decides to leave his bike where it's at, it's not too far, one hand reaching for the gun as he approached to where the noise was coming.

[khaleesiofalicante]

“Mom!” Alec hissed.

His mother didn’t turn back.

“Mooooom,” he called her again – and this time she turned back. “I want to go home."

“Alec, we just got here!” his mother said incredulously as they checked their coats into the coakroom.

The guy in the cloakroom gave Alec a token for their coats.

Jesus Fucking Christ. What kind of house has a cloakroom?

His mother was right. They had barely been here for 10 minutes. But Alec already wanted to leave.

“I’m feeling sick,” Alec said. “I should go back home.”

He coughed awkwardly. He was a decent liar.

“What’s wrong?” his mother looked momentarily concerned.

“Uh,” Alec said, not prepared at all. “I got my period.”

Yeah, so that ‘decent liar’ bit might have been an exaggeration.

“Alec,” his mother sighed. “You think I want to do this? This family is one of our largest donors to the university. As the dean, I have to be here. So do you.”

Alec groaned.

As the president of the queer alliance at Idris University, Alec knew he had to talk to people to get the funding they needed. But Alec hated people and he hated talking. He wished Lily or Maia were here instead.

“I know you have your own ways,” his mother said through her teeth as she smiled at one of the guests who was waving at her. “But you need their support. It’s how the game is played.”

“I hate playing the game,” Alec said through his teeth as he cheerily waved at one of the lecturers.

“You know the rules,” she turned to him and adjusted his bowtie. “Just smile and play nice.”

“But-”

“Be charming ,” she interrupted. “That's how fundraising works.”

Alec pouted and then gave her tight nod.

“Albert!” she shouted at one of the guests and made her way towards the old man.

Alec was about to let out a dramatic sigh when a waiter emerged from nowhere.

“Champagne, sir?”

“Thank you,” Alec picked up the flute. “Damn, this is heavy.”

“Crystal, sir,” the waiter pointed.

Alec’s hands suddenly felt very sweaty. He wiped them clumsily on his suit jacket and held the champagne flute carefully.

Another waiter emerged upon him, holding a tray of hors d’oeuvres.

“What’s that?” Alec pointed at the tray.

“Caviar, sir,” the waiter replied.

“Is that cinnamon?” Alec asked at the sprinkled dust on top of the caviar thingies.

If it was cinnamon, he could maybe eat it and have an instant allergic reaction.

Then maybe his mother would let him go home. He hoped.

“Not cinnamon, sir,” the waiter said as Alec took one and popped into his mouth. “It’s edible gold.”

“What?” Alec asked, his mouth full of caviar.

And gold apparently.

“It’s a caviar and crème fraîche tartlet,” the waiter announced in a surprisingly perfect French accent. “Topped with edible gold.”

“You are telling me this is gold?” Alec asked, chewing the food self-consciously. “I’m eating actual gold?”

“Uh, yes sir,” the waiter said awkwardly.

“But why?” Alec demanded, chewing his food angrily now. “Does it improve the taste?”

“No, sir,” the waiter looked embarrassed. “It’s…pretty.”

Alec looked around in disbelief as the waiter made his escape.

Here he was trying to find a couple of thousand dollars to raise funds for his alliance and these people were sprinkling gold on their food for aesthetic.

“Fuck the rich,” Alec muttered.

“Pardon?” someone said from behind him.

Ah, shit! Alec really hoped it was not one of the professors at the university – or worse, one of the donors.

But when he turned around, it was neither.

It was in fact the most beautiful man Alec had ever seen.

“Uh,” Alec said eloquently.

“You were saying something about fucking the rich,” the man smiled. “If it’s a cult, I’m very much interested.”

“Not a cult,” Alec clarified – when he managed to find his voice. Jesus! “Just a personal motto of mine.”

“Very interesting motto you have there…”

“Alec,” he finished. “Alexander.”

Why did he say his full name? He never did that. Alec could be such a weirdo in front of gorgeous men.

“Nice to meet you, Alexander,” the other man said, and Alec’s momentary regret vanished instantly.

He suddenly loved his name. Maybe a little too much.

“I’m Magnus,” the man held out a hand and Alec shook it – and hoped his palm wasn’t as sweaty as before. “Are you here to donate?”

“Pfft,” Alec couldn’t help but snort. “Right. Cause these people need more money.”

“Don’t roll your eyes at charity, Alexander,” Magnus chided. “It’s not very gentlemanly of you.”

“What’s this charity for anyway?” Alec asked, because he hadn’t even bothered to ask his mom and spent the whole drive here complaining about the university budget allocations instead.

“The rowing club,” Magnus replied.

“The rowing club?” Alec demanded angrily.

They were a bunch of elite dude bros and were the last people that needed charity.

“They are hoping to purchase new equipment,” Magnus pointed out.

“This is fucking ridiculous,” Alec complained. “They don’t even need a fundraiser. They can afford that shit in so many other ways. Like ask them sell one of their Rolexes or Lamborghinis. Charity is for people who don’t have alternatives.”

Magnus blinked and Alec realized he had lost his cool a little.

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “It’s just…it isn’t fair.”

“The rowing club boys are right there,” Magnus whispered as he pointed at the buffet. “They might hear you and think you are jealous.”

“I’m not jealous,” Alec replied. “I’m outraged that we live in a society that prioritizes the needs of the marginalized over the wants of the privileged.”

Usually this was the point when the other person would give him an awkward smile and escaped immediately from Alec’s boring rants.

But Magnus didn’t look awkward or bored. In fact, his lips curved a little as he gestured Alec to one of the banquet tables.

“Tell me more,” Magnus said as he sat down.

Alec wasn’t really sure what to say. He wasn’t used to reaching this stage of the conversation.

“Fancy new rowing equipment is a want. They can live without their latest gadget and just make do with the equipment they have,” Alec elaborated. “But the safety of queer youth in our university is definitely a need. It’s not something they should have to compromise.”

“The safety of the queer youth?” Magnus frowned. “How are they at risk?”

“There has been increased reporting of cyber bullying by queer students at the university,” Alec sighed. “Our existing reporting mechanisms don’t work.”

“Well, they could complain to HR and-”

“Magnus, when has HR got anything done?” Alec asked.

Magnus frowned again.

“Our data shows that over 60% of the victims of cyber bullying at the university are not only queer, but also people of colour,” Alec elabored. “So, these attacks are racially motivated too.”

“Why isn’t the university doing anything about it?” Magnus demanded, now sounding angry too. “The dean-”

“She is doing the best she can,” Alec intervened – because he knew that to be true. “We have a zero tolerance policy and that works at campus. But on social media..Well, that’s a whole other thing, isn’t it? You can’t really control what other people say or do.”

Magnus frowned again.

Alec realized that he liked it better when the other man smiled. Maybe he was as boring and depressing as everyone said.

“So, what do we do?” Magnus asked.

“We?” Alec blinked.

“I’m a student at the university too,” Magnus said. “Well, I just transferred from London. But still. As a bisexual man and a person of color, I need to be a part of this.”

Alec was beyond happy that someone understood the importance of his cause. It was hard enough to find people who supported the alliance.

But instead of thanking Magnus for his support, Alec’s mouth said “You’re bisexual?”

“And part-Indonesian,” Magnus replied. “So, what do we do, Alexander?”

Alec blinked. “Well, uh, the alliance has been trying to create an app that provides counseling support for queer youth who face bullying online. We can’t really completely get rid of the bullying. That might never happen. But the least we can do is give support for the victims, right?”

Magnus smiled. And yeah, Alec definitely liked it better.

“That’s an excellent idea,” Magnus said.

“Well, it’s just an idea,” Alec shrugged. “We still need to find the funding.”

“Well, why haven’t you?” Magnus asked.

“Because the donors obviously have other priorities,” Alec rolled his eyes, gesturing at the party.

“Oh,” Magnus said.

“But I think if we steal a plate of those caviar thingies, we might be able to scrap off the gold dust and gather a few hundred dollars,” Alec joked.

But Magnus didn’t laugh. Instead he leaped off his chair, ran towards the stage and grabbed the mic.

First of all, why was there a stage? Second of all, what was Magnus doing?

Third of all, who was he? Was he performer for the fundraiser or something?

He did have a really nice voice, Alec noted to himself. Among other nice things.

“Excuse me, everyone!” Magnus called into the mic and everyone turned their attention to him. “I’m Magnus Bane. My father and I are absolutely thrilled to have you at our home this evening.”

Alec, who was sipping on his champagne, most certainly did not choke at that. This was…Magnus’ home?

He was the biggest donor to the university? Or his father was…But whatever.

Alec’s ‘fuck the rich’ motto seemed a little too ironic - maybe even appropriate - right now.

“As the captain of the rowing team,” Magnus said, and Alec did not choke again. “I’ve just heard word from my brothers that there has been a change of plans.”

The rowing club, still standing by the buffet and hogging all the food, looked very confused.

“The rowing club has officially decided to throw a car wash at the university,” Magnus announced and the crowd started whispering around.

“Dude, isn’t that what chicks do?” one of the dude bros laughed.

“Exactly, Chad!” Magnus yelled. “We will be raising money and dismantling the patriarchy at the same time. It’s a win-win!”

A loud cheer went through the room but some people still looked confused.

“But what about the fundraiser?” a woman who was wearing too many pearly necklaces asked. “Are we not making donations today?”

“Yes, we are Mrs. Morgenstern,” Magnus winked at her. “But all donations from today’s event will go the queer alliance of the Idris University. They are raising money to fund an app to provide psychosocial support to victims of cyber bullying.”

Alec noticed his mother turn to look at him in disbelief. Alec shrugged helplessly.

“Is it really necessary though?” an old man from one of the tables asked and Alec had half a mind to dump his champagne on the man’s head. “Can’t they just have one of those support groups where they sit in a circle and talk to each other?”

“They are victims of targeted harassment, Mr. Starkweather,” Magnus replied politely. “They need support that is consistent, reliable and professional. It seems rather unfair to ask victims to support themselves instead of providing them with the required resources.”

“But aren’t they asking for too much?” a blonde woman asked.

“The app will ensure their safety and mental health. They are asking for the bare minimum,” Magnus answered, and Alec noticed the flash of anger in his eyes.

“But if the problem is cyber bullying,” another man in a suit demanded. “Why can’t we just ask them to stay off the internet?”

“Because that would be homophobic,” Magnus said through gritted teeth - but still smiling. Alec knew that look. “The queer students are not the problem. The internet is not at fault either. It’s people and their privilege. It’s people and their inability to treat others with respect – online and offline. These are students. We can’t restrict their access to the internet. For many queer youth, the internet is the only place that is safe enough to express themselves without fear or judgment. So, instead of asking them to stay off the internet, maybe we should consider asking the bullies and homophobes to practice basic human decency.”

“Damn, son!” someone whistled impressively.

Alec knew that whistle. He was going to hug the hell out of his mother later.

There was a moment of silence in the room, then a man approached the stage and pulled Magnus into a hug.

“What an excellent idea, Magnus!” the man who looked very much like Magnus beamed.

“It’s not my idea,” Magnus said. “All the credit goes to the alliance.”

“Well, I can’t wait to meet this alliance!” Mr. Bane nodded in approval. “Ladies and Gentlemen! What a fine cause! What an important change in action! Allow me to be the first to support these brave and inspiring group of young people.”

“Thank you, Bapa!” Magnus smiled sweetly. “It’s so wonderful to see you supporting this cause. This is going to go viral on the internet.”

The moment Magnus said the words viral and internet, multiple guests got off their seats and started heading towards the donations table.

“He knows how to play the game,” Alec's mother said as she walked up to him. “He would make a fine addition to your alliance, Alec. You should ask him to join.”

“I will. He is bisexual,” Alec replied.

“He is also very handsome,” his mother pointed out innocently.

“Don't even!” Alec pointed a finger at her as she chuckled and joined the crowd.

By the end of the night, the fundraiser had gatherd thrice the amount the alliance needed to create the app.

“So…” he said as he approached Magnus. “I wanted to say thank you.”

“I was wondering maybe you could say it on Saturday,” Magnus suggested.

“Saturday?” Alec raised an eyebrow.

“The car wash, Alexander!” Magnus pouted. “I was here for your fundraiser. It’s only fair that you come for mine.”

“Well, that depends,” Alec said. “Will you be wearing a bikini?”

“Nah,” Magnus chuckled. “I was hoping to go shirtless.”

“In that case, you’ll definitely see me there,” Alec said seriously.

He didn’t even have a car. But he could always egg Jace’s car and take it.

“You want to get out of here?” Magnus asked, pointing at the crowd.

“Uh, isn’t this like your party or something?” Alec asked. “Shouldn’t you be here to entertain the guests?”

Magnus looked around and shrugged. “Fuck the rich.”

Alec couldn’t help but grin at that. He took Magnus’ hand as they ran towards the garden.

Fuck the rich indeed.

- For @radisv​ for being amazing. Always. Happy Birthday. ILY!

[honey-dewey]

Game Night

Pairing: Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales/Reader

Word Count: 1,722

Warnings: none

Permanent Taglist: @phoenixhalliwell

It’s game night in the Morales household. The boys and you all sit down with drinks and snacks and decide to play one of the most friendship ruining games on the planet. Who will win the cutthroat game of monopoly?

“Babe, can you get the door?” You shouted, hearing Frankie shuffle around the living room. “The boys are here!”

Frankie eagerly bounded to the door, almost falling on his face on the slippery wooden floors. He quickly righted himself and pulled the door open, embracing Benny, Will, and Santiago in one go. 

“Boys!” You said cheerily as they entered the house. “C’mon! I made dip, and there’s drinks in the fridge, and there’s also a secret dessert.” 

“If you weren’t married, I would get on one knee, here and now,” Benny said, pulling you into a hug. “You are the best!” 

You laughed. “Yeah? Let’s see how that holds up. I distinctly remember cleaning my carpets for a week after our last game night.” 

“Excuse you!” Will called from the living room. “Benny called me a dumb whore for charging him money! I couldn’t let that slide!” 

Laughing, you cleared away the coasters and remotes from the living room table, leaving it blank for tonight’s game. 

Frankie grabbed a box from the supply closet and set it down on the living room coffee table. The box in question was beat up and held together with packing tape, but the name of the game was still legible. Monopoly. 

“Are we playing teams?” Frankie asked as you all gathered around the table, you setting the snacks down and going out to grab beers for the boys. 

“If we are, I call Frankie!” You shouted from the kitchen. 

Will snorted. “You’re married. Of course you’ll be a team. Benny?” 

Benny fist-bumped his brother. “Hell yeah!” 

“And me?” Santiago said, amusement making his voice light. 

“Pope,” Frankie said. “Every time we play, you kick all our asses. You don’t need a team.” 

Santiago snorted. “Sounds fair,” he said. “Although, I would appreciate a partner to teach my secrets to.” 

You rolled your eyes playfully. Ever since you and Frankie had gotten married, Santiago had been bugging you for a baby. You had no idea why he wanted you to have one so bad, but he did. 

“Pope, if I do end up pregnant, I promise you’ll be the second person I tell,” you said, leaning towards the table and grabbing your favorite piece. The horse and rider. “Right after my husband.” 

Santiago grabbed his piece, the battleship, and smiled. “Of course.” 

Benny and Will took their piece, the cannon, and you all set the pieces down. 

“Who’s rolling first?” Frankie asked, grabbing the dice and holding them out. 

Will rolled for his team first, getting a solid 8. Santiago went next, rolling a 10. 

“Good luck,” you said to Frankie, leaning on his shoulder as he rolled the dice. A quick count of the dots gave you an 11. 

“Fuck yeah!” Frankie said happily, scooping up the dice again. “We get to go first.” 

Nothing much happened for your first go around of the board. Everyone knew the strategy of ‘wait to see how the game would play out’ and that had led to plenty of long monopoly games. You and Frankie agreed on the light blue and pink properties, and managed to buy Vermont and Virginia in two turns. You also, after a quick discussion, bought Illinois when you landed on it, knowing that the reds and the yellows were Santiago’s strategy. 

Another go around of the board, and the strategies began to emerge. You and Frankie got two railroads and another two properties in your target area, and it seemed that Will and Benny were too busy trying to outsmart Santiago that they didn’t even realize you and Frankie were very slowly taking over half the board. Santiago, in true Santiago fashion, kept his strategy as hidden as possible, buying properties from the entire board instead of focusing on one area. By the time you’d all passed Go again, tension was still, surprisingly, low. 

That changed quickly. You and Frankie bought what was affectionately referred to as ‘the slums’ but was actually just the two brown properties with a lucky roll of snake eyes, and through a well timed chance card, Will and Benny ended up in jail, both agreeing that it was complete bullshit while Santiago laughed. 

“Houses?” Frankie murmured in your ear as he added the second brown card to your stack. 

You glanced at what Santiago had and what the brothers had. “Wait. Santi’s trying to edge us off those orange properties, but give it another go around. He’s got that last blue one, Connecticut, but we’ve got Illinois, which he needs. And I’ve got no clue what Will and Benny are doing.” 

Frankie nodded, taking the dice and rolling again, getting you two the last pink property. 

“I’m gonna go grab more food, anyone want anything?” You asked, standing and looking around. 

“Another drink?” Benny asked, holding up his empty beer bottle. 

You took it, scanning the table for anything else you could recycle. “Of course,” you said. “How about I bring out the prize tonight, hm?” 

The boys cheered. Monopoly wasn’t a game where you often congratulated the winner. In fact, half the time Frankie managed to beat everyone, you jokingly refused to kiss him. But tonight, you wanted to up the stakes. 

Grabbing another beer for Benny, you balanced a covered pie tin with your other hand and walked back into the living room, where Frankie was happily arranging what had been collected in Free Parking. 

“Boys!” You announced happily. “Tonight’s victor will be awarded the grand prize of,” you pulled the tin foil off the pie tin. “A homemade cherry pie.” 

Immediately, everyone went wild. You laughed, covering the pie back up and setting it down on the kitchen counter. “Shall we keep playing?” 

The game continued, a few more go arounds of the board securing the final few properties. You and Frankie had almost every property you wanted, along with three of the four railroads. 

“Uh, guys,” Benny said finally after you charged him for a railroad. “Team lovebirds are destroying us right now. How’d we let that happen? How did no one notice?”

You laughed, grabbing the dice and rolling them. “I guess we’ll be keeping that pie.” 

“Not if I can help it!” Santiago held up the final light blue card. “Suck it!” 

“Mhm, we’ve got that last red one,” you pointed out, moving your piece and reluctantly handing Benny and Will some money. “Whenever you’re ready to trade, we’ll be here.” 

Will whistled, pushing the dice towards Santiago. “Dude, that’s rough.” 

Santiago leaned forward. “Nah. I want that damn pie.” 

Not long after that, Benny and Will went bankrupt, much to their disappointment. However, it meant they could man the bank and they wouldn’t be caught in the crossfire that would become your game. 

The game continued to drag on, neither you nor Santiago willing to back down. Money was exchanged, Will and Benny’s properties were bought, and houses were built. 

By the time anything interesting happened, you and Frankie had a solid chokehold on half the board. It was a war of attrition, a simple back and forth of the money. And then, by some miracle, you rolled the dice and landed on free parking. 

It was a crushing blow for poor Santiago. Suddenly, you and Frankie were up by almost five thousand dollars, able to afford a bunch of houses and, very slowly, you were able to drive Santiago to bankruptcy. 

“Damn!” He yelled, realizing he was done. “Good game, damn I cannot believe I lost.” 

You grinned, standing. “Pack all of this up. I’ll go cut the pie.” 

While the boys cleaned, you got five plates, putting a slice of pie on each one. Using old waiting skills and going very slowly, you carried all five plates out. 

“Jeez babe!” Frankie said, jumping up to help you. “Gimme some of those! You could’ve asked for help.” 

“I had it,” you reassured, sitting on the couch and sinking your fork into the pie. “Fuck, that is beautiful.” 

For the rest of the night, you and the boys ate, drank, and pulled out a deck of Uno cards to keep the fun going. Of course, Benny kicked all your asses, but he was the only one who ever actually strategized Uno. Everyone else enjoyed tipsy fun, laughing when someone got screwed and groaning when someone won. 

Eventually, some time well past midnight, you sent everyone to bed, or the couch in Santiago’s case. That included Frankie, who pulled you into your shared bedroom and grinned. “Babe, I got a question.” 

“Fire away.” 

Frankie came up behind you, putting his hands against your belly. “When are we gonna tell them?” 

“Tomorrow,” you murmured, resting your hands overtop Frankie’s. “I wanna watch Santi spit coffee out his nose.” 

Chuckling, Frankie led you to bed. “You’re evil.” 

The next morning, you gave each of the boys a coffee cup, smiling as you received sleepy murmurs. 

“Hey Benny,” you called, opening the fridge and peering into it. “You got any use for a perfectly good bottle of wine?” 

“Uh, why?” Benny asked, looking up from his mug. 

You shrugged. “Frankie’s not a wine guy and I can’t drink it.” 

“Yes you can,” Will said. “You drank a whole bottle with Benny last month.” 

“Bitch, I wasn’t pregnant last month.” 

As you’d guessed last night, Santiago choked on his coffee, coughing so violently that Frankie had to thump him on the back a few times. “What?” He yelled when he was finally able to talk again. 

“I’m pregnant,” you said, as if it were the most casual thing in the world. “Surprise. You’re all gonna be uncles.” 

Santiago fist pumped the air. “Hell yeah! I get a monopoly partner!” 

You laughed, doubling over the counter. “That’s what you’re focusing on?” 

“I have my priorities,” Santiago said with a smile. 

Benny stood, looking you up and down. “Can I touch? Please?” 

You shrugged, gesturing him closer. “Nothing to touch yet, but yeah.” 

Benny’s hand was warm on your belly, and he grinned at the expanse of exposed skin. “Hey,” he said directly to the baby. “I’m your uncle Benny.” 

“Ben,” you said, raising an eyebrow. “You’re talking to a month old bean.” 

But now Will was beside you, and so was Santi, and there was Frankie behind you. Surrounded by your boys, you grinned. “I love this family.”

[blazinbeautywrites]

Quiet

Note: Due to the rampant uprising of plagiarism on this site and others I am stating once and once only that this is my ORIGINAL work. If I find out that you have stolen/taken any part of my work I will handle you and the situation the way I see fit.

None of the pics or gifs I use belong to me so full credit goes to the originators of said gifs and pics.

Length: 1,528 words

Genre: Smut

A/N: I missed my mans Christian and he been looking delicious in his recent releases and appearances and now I feel some type of way.

Luxe wanted to be anywhere but at this dumbass party her parents decided to throw in her honor. They were celebrating the fact that she finished medical school and was now a doctor. She thought it was all unnecessary. While everyone was mingling she snuck off and was enjoying herself in her parents back garden when she heard someone clear their throat. She smiled as she immediately knew who it was.

“Christian.” She said as she went to hug him.

“Luxe Morgan Johnson. My my have you grown.” Christian replied.

“Oh my god. I see you’re still a huge flirt.” She said.

“Only for you baby girl.” He retorted.

“Ew gross. How did you even find me out here?” She asked.

“I know you too well. Plus you’ve always said this was your favorite place to relax, especially when your parents annoyed you.” Christian said as he took a seat next to her on freshly mowed grass.

“I missed you, you know. I don’t know if your mom told you, but I came looking for you that summer after I graduated from college. She said you were long gone. What happened?” Luxe asked.

“Honestly? Nothing bad I just…...I had to get out of this town. My dad was on me to take over the firm, my mom wanted me to apply myself more in school. I had enough so I just left.” Christian replied.

“You should have called me. I would have been there for you.” Luxe said. She was a little hurt that her best friend had kept this from her but she figured he had his reasons so she dropped the issue.

“I know I know but that’s in the past. But anyways your dad sent me out here to get you because dinner is being served in a few minutes.” Christian said. He stood up and held out his hand to pull her up. Luxe dusted off her clothes and headed inside with Christian. She walked in just as the servers started to bring out appetizers. As she took her seat she looked at all of the relatives and family friends and wanted to throw up. She vaguely remembered most of these people looking down upon her and her parents as they struggled to succeed. Now look at them, all gathered around her parent’s luxurious dining table ready to eat thousands of dollars worth of food. She shook those thoughts out of her head as Christian took a seat next to her. Once everyone was settled her dad lightly tapped his fork against his champagne glass and Luxe was not looking forward to whatever speech he was about to give.

“I just want to say that I’m so glad you all could make it. I am so proud of my baby girl and all that she’s achieved. TO LUXE!” Her dad cheered, the guests following his lead. One by one the guests gave speeches but Luxe and Christian were in their own little world.

“I’m sorry but this shit is boring. I need some entertainment.” Christian whispered to Luxe. Feeling his hot breath on her neck made her tingle. She shifted in her seat and Christian noticed. He smirked to himself and placed his left arm on his lap. He made sure no one was looking and slowly slipped his hand to the inside of her thighs. Luxe inhaled a sharp breath and tried her best to relax but how could she when her best friend’s hand was under her skirt. She composed herself and continued to listen to the speeches as Christian’s fingers ghosted over her lacy underwear. Thankfully the last person had just finished giving their speech and everyone was now free to eat. Luxe could still feel his hand between her legs as he lightly rubbed her through her underwear, making it extremely hard for her to eat her food.

“Ummm, I have to freshen up. Those speeches really moved me. Be right back.” Luxe quickly got up and made a beeline for their guest bathroom that was right off the dining area. She leaned over the sink and tried to calm her nerves. After about a couple minutes, she heard the door open and when she looked in the mirror she saw Christian standing behind her.

���You good?” Christian asked.

“You know damn well I’m not. What the hell was that?” Luxe asked.

“You seemed a little tense, I was just trying to help you. Plus like I said, I was bored and needed some entertainment.

“So your form of entertainment is fingering girls underneath the table in a room full of people? She asked.

“I mean I couldn’t bend you over the table so under the table was the next best thing.” He replied. He bit his lip and stared her down. Luxe kept up the eye contact, almost challenging him.

“So why are you in here? Did my dad send you to find me again?” Luxe asked.

“Does is matter why I’m here? Plus, I’ve been wanting to kiss you since I saw you sitting in the garden.” Christian said. Wasting no time Luxe pulled him in for a deep, passionate kiss when he suddenly pulled away. She was taken aback and got worried.

“What’s wrong? You okay?” She asked.

“Nah I’m good, it’s just…….that’s not where I wanted to kiss you.” He said as he slid to his knees. Once at eye level with her heat he pulled her skirt down and watched as it fell to her feet. He ran a finger up her soaked underwear and she let out a moan that was music to Christian’s ears. He stared at her as he moved her underwear to the side. He licked a long stripe up her slick folds and she visibly shuddered.

“I-I need more. Fuck I need more.” Luxe moaned out. Christian was more than happy to oblige. He immediately dug in. He began eating her like she was his last meal. Luxe lost her balance and he swung her leg over his shoulder. She grabbed a hold of his raven locks and tried to steady herself some more. Her other hand held onto the wall and she was losing her grip.

“Mmmm you taste so damn good. Bend over for me.” Christin demanded. Luxe obeyed and turned around and when she looked in the mirror she became even more aroused. Especially the way he was looking at her. He pushed her forwards, bending her over the counter in the bathroom. He  gave a sharp slap on the ass and inserted 2 fingers inside of her.

“Fuckfuckfuuuuuck.” Luxe moaned.

“Like I said before, I need you to be quiet.” He spoke the last part in her ear, making her shiver. He moved his fingers, massaging her insides. This drove her insane.

“Oh shit. Just like that baby oh my god.” She breathed out as he fingered her at a vigorous pace. 

“You take my fingers so well baby girl. God I can’t wait to be inside that tight little pussy.” Christian said. He pulled her up by her throat and kissed her as his fingers continued their assault on her already sensitive pussy. She could taste herself on his lips and it took all her self control not to drop to her knees and suck his dick dry.

“I’m about to come, shit I’m about to come.” Luxe cried out. Her legs gave out and she came hard. Christian didn’t stop and continued fingering her.

“Come on you can take one more, can’t you?” He teased. Luxe clung onto his jacket as he guided her through another orgasm. She was spent and had no idea how she was going to go sit at a table full of family and friends and pretend she wasn’t a soaking wet mess. Once she’d calmed down a bit she turned back around and took his fingers and licked them clean. 

“Mmmmmm. Tasty.” She said as she made eye contact when she was done. Christian’s pants felt tighter as he was rock hard. Oh he was gonna fuck the shit out of her as soon as he gets the chance. He washed his hands and helped her pull herself back together and they made their way back to the dining room.

“Ah there she is. Honey are you okay? You look a little flustered.” Luxe’s mom said.

“Yeah she’s okay. Just a little emotional that’s all. But everything is fine now.” He said. Luxe and Christian exchanged knowing looks as he pulled her chair out for her.

“Wow. Lying to my parents? Good move.” Luxe teased.

“Well I damn sure can’t tell them that I made their daughter cum twice in the span of 10 minutes.” He replied.

“You're in for a ride of your life sweetie. I plan on getting you back later on.” Luxe said as she took a sip from her wine glass.

“Oh is that a threat?” He asked.

“It’s a promise.” She replied. They clinked their glasses together and shared a look of anticipation. Both knew that their night was far from over and they were excited to explore this new side of their relationship.

[welcometothemxdhouse]

Lectures

Hello again wow me writing two things in one week? shocking!

Anyways this is something i promised my boo @feedthemadness-sweetie​ as a result of us considering what Chilton would be like as a professor...so i hope you like it :)

I might write a part 2 i don’t know...maybe...also this is gender-neutral.

WARNINGS: none really...oh this is insanely unprofessional and a bit fucked up so idk lmao don’t kiss your professors. 

Gif by: @prurientpuddlejumper​ ❤

You were sat in the uncomfortable, plastic chair pulling out your laptop when the door to the lecture hall opened. The tapping of a metal cane against the floor made every student in the room fall silent. Your professor, Doctor Chilton, wasn’t exactly known for his patience and hospitality when it came to teaching and his entire demeanour just signalled he believed himself to be far superior to anybody else who could possibly arrive in his classroom. It was for this reason that students tended to avoid the doctor as much as possible, keeping their heads down with only the occasional snarky comment about his thousand dollar suits or his arrogant approach to teaching. You, however, were slightly infatuated with Doctor Chilton.

You watched from over your screen as Chilton strode across the hall and settled behind his desk.

“If you stare any longer you’re gonna burn a hole into his back”

You turned to your right to see your best friend settling into their seat, only slightly startled out of your daydream. They were smirking at you as you shifted uncomfortably and muttered “I wasn’t staring.”

“Sure you weren’t, kid, sure you weren’t” they laughed, twisting in their chair to see who had actually bothered to turn up to the lecture. As you did the same you noticed a few people whispering pointedly in Doctor Chilton’s direction, which caused a small knot to form in your stomach. You knew there was no way he wasn’t aware of the things people said about him.

The lecture went by as slowly as ever-the clock seemed to enjoy playing tricks on you when you were most desperate to get home. Your final exams were looming over the horizon and you were more than stressed about their presence. When at last Doctor Chilton decided he had tortured you all enough he dismissed everyone to mutters about him running over time and being a pretentious asshole. You stood up, stretched your legs and quickly packed your things back into your bag to keep up with your best friend-who was equally in need of a very strong coffee before your next class.

“Y/N”, you paused, “i would like to speak to you please.”

You turned on your heels, letting go of the door handle after your friend had passed through with the promise to pick up your coffee order for you and bring it to the seminar you had in 10 minutes. You walked towards your professor’s desk and stood, aimless and clueless, on the other side as he began gathering his own belongings and raised a finger in a wait motion. With his focus elsewhere you allowed yourself a few seconds to take in his look. He was wearing dark three-piece suit with a white shirt. His hair was gelled back and his stubble was well-kept. In fact the only indication of any personality or life story behind the layers of expensive fabrics and grooming products was the circular scar on his cheek that was partially covered by poorly-applied concealer. Most people knew how the infamous Doctor Frederick Chilton got his scar and your mind screamed with how much you wanted to run your thumb over it and reassure him he had no reason to hide it. The grating sound of the chair being pushed backwards pulled you from your daydreams. When he stood up you didn’t miss the way his eyes dragged themselves up your form. You would never admit it to yourself, (or anyone else for that matter), but you had developed just a small habit of making yourself look a little more presentable on the days you knew you had a lecture with Doctor Chilton. You had left the classic stressed and sleep-deprived student style behind and substituted it for the clothes that clung to your form a little tighter and highlighted your assets-much to the joy of your best friend who took delight in laughing at you for the fact. 

“Can I help you, sir? you asked, still unsure as to why you were made to stay behind.

“You are aware that your exams are soon, yes?” He said, more as a statement than a question, as he began to round his desk to stand in front of you. You were slightly offended he would even ask that considering it was the only thought consuming your mind for the past month. 

“Yes sir?”

“And you believe you are ready for them?”

You thought about this for a second and wondered if anybody could ever really be ‘ready’ for exams. But you had studied hard and you knew your own abilities.

“I hope so, sir” 

Doctor Chilton stepped forward so he was now within touching distance of you. You took a nervous, deep breath and god he smelt so good. You ran your hand through your hair and pulled your bottom lip between your teeth-both nervous habits but ironically convenient for the current situation-and looked into the hazel eyes of the man stood in front of you. You opened your mouth to ask him, again, why you were there but he quickly interrupted you:

“Do you think I don’t notice the way you stare at me?”

You stumbled on your breath, dumbfounded and confused, and tried to think of something to say. Right in that moment the only thing your brain could conjure was: SHIT! Before you had the chance to comprehend what was happening he rested his cane against the front of his desk and stepped forward again. His hand reached towards your waist before stopping and hovering between the two of you. His eyes flickered down to your lips and back up again.

“Can I?” He whispered.

Your hand left its place on your bag and wrapped your fingers gently around his wrist, pulling his hand towards you until it settled on your hip. A simple, muttered “Yes” was all it took before the doctor plunged forwards and captured your lips with his. The kiss was everything you had dreamed of, (and you definitely had dreamed on more than one occasion). His lips were soft and you tasted the strong coffee he had been drinking as your tongue explored his mouth. His other hand slid up your neck and tangled itself in your hair and he smiled against your mouth as you moaned louder than you had intended at the light tug he gave on the back of your head. He began to spin you until your lower back was resting against his desk and tilted your head so he could trail kisses down your jaw and your neck. He listened to your heavy breaths and quiet whimpers with a smug smile and a growing tightness in his trousers. After a few seconds, you reached up to rest your hands on his chest and reluctantly pushed him gently away, out of breath and slightly shocked. You wanted nothing more than to let him bend you over that stupid desk and leave with the feeling of his release sliding down your thighs. You shivered at the thought.

“I have a seminar, sir” you sighed. You enjoyed the way his eyes darkened momentarily at the nickname you had adopted for him and you made a mental note to remember it. He grabbed his cane from the desk beside you and rested his weight on it so he could stand upright. His chest heaved and his eyes drifted to the floor. He almost looked sad...or embarrassed. You would find out later that he believed that the kiss had changed your mind and you had decided he wasn’t what you wanted-even the thought of it would break your heart. You grabbed your long-forgotten bag with one hand and fixed your hair with the other, completely unsure of what to do or say now. Of course you didn’t want this to be a one-time thing but you were also starkly aware that not only had he only acknowledged your interest in him, he was also your goddamn professor. 

“I...I’ll see you next week...i guess?” You stammered, backing slowly towards the door. You were already late for your seminar and he knew that too, so there was little point in faking a rush. Doctor Chilton’s stare bore heavy into you with an emotion you couldn’t quite interpret and you almost turned away and ran, until he spoke just as you reached the door:

“My office hours are 2PM to 4PM, if you’d like to drop by?”

It wouldn’t take a genius to figure out that you’d take him up on the offer. 

[wkemeup]

By Any Other Name (10)

series summary: When Special Agent Bucky Barnes is tasked with infiltrating the notorious gang Hydra and gathering evidence against its leader, Brock Rumlow, Bucky finds himself drawn to the woman who doesn’t seem to belong in this world of violence, the wife of the head of Hydra… you. pairing: bucky x reader chapter word count: 7k warnings: physical violence, a moment you’ve been waiting for 🌹series masterlist 🌹

This was not laying low. This was the exact fucking opposite of laying low.

Red powder covered the pavement, faint clouds of pink mist up in the air as Peter stood far away from the fallout, the sleeve of his sweatshirt pressed tight over his nose and mouth as he looked at Bucky with wide, fearful eyes. The cardboard packaging on the ground, a crack in the side from where it had leaked. It sat in the small pool of water inside a rather large pothole, fallen from Peter’s hands.

“I didn’t know who else to call,” Peter explained, words stumbling together under the muffle of his sleeve, the panic evident in his voice. He was pacing, glancing back at the powder on the ground, to Bucky, to the box in the puddle. “Brock is going to kill me. Oh God, he’s going to kill me and then Y/n and then probably you for helping and then he’s going to resurrect me and kill me again!”

“He’s not going to do any of that. Calm down, kid,” Bucky hushed, eyes still focused on the powder seeping into the pavement. It had rained just hours ago, the shine of the cement and rocks absorbing Hydra’s most coveted trade; Cerberus.

When Bucky looked up again, he found Peter had stopped pacing, his body completely rigid though his breaths were coming in short and rushed. He was scared.

Shit.

“Hey,” Bucky called carefully, gently putting a hand on Peter’s shoulder. He flinched under the touch, a jolt snapping through his small frame before his eyes met Bucky’s. With a careful breath, Bucky guided Peter’s sleeve away from his mouth. There was no need for that now. The mist had dissolved.

“I’ll take care of this,” he said sternly as he spotted the redness forming in the whites of Peter’s eyes. He sighed, making his voice softer, relaxing the tension in his own muscles. “You’re going to be okay, Peter. Take a breath for me. Can you do that?”

Peter nodded vigorously, jaw quivering, but he did as Bucky asked. The first breath came in shaken and shallow, like Bucky had seen in you the night your cousin was first dragged into this underworld. Peter tried again, gasping for a breath, though this time he got in more air. Bucky kept his hand on Peter’s shoulder, guiding him, exaggerating his own breaths to allow him to mimic the movement.

“Good,” Bucky soothed, squeezing at Peter’s shoulders until his heart rate started to go down. When his breaths were coming in evenly again, Bucky glanced back down the empty street in both directions. “Now, did anyone see you?”

“W-what?” Peter gaped, a little unfocused.

“Did anyone see you carrying that box?” Bucky asked again, slower this time, as patient as he could manage given the urgency. Peter shook his head. “Okay, that’s good. Where were you heading?”

“Mr. Pierce’s house.”

“What time is the meet up?”

Peter’s eyes widened, his breathing coming in too fast again. He made the mistake of looking at his watch. “Twenty minutes ago.”

“Okay, okay, kid. Hey, what did I tell you? I’m going to take care of this.” Bucky took a step back, but he kept a hand on Peter’s shoulder. The kid needed grounding and Bucky wouldn’t dare take that from him now. He had reason to be scared. Rumlow had ordered Bucky to beat men close to their last breath for far less than this.

This was nearly two bricks in the dirt. He’d bloodied a man for stealing half an ounce just a few months back. Bucky didn’t want to imagine what Rumlow would do to Peter for destroying two kilos of their most prized street drug.  

“Alright, here’s what we’re going to do,” Bucky started to with a deep breath, “you’re going to go home--”

Peter started to shake his head like he might object but Bucky raised a finger at him, silencing him instantly.

“You're going to go home,” Bucky continued, firmer this time, “and you’re going to close all the blinds. Stay out of sight. I don’t care what you have to tell your aunt, but make it look like you’re not home. I’ll find a way to get Pierce his supply. I’ll—I’ll take it from the loading docks.” He was making it up as he went. Bucky never much cared for improvising. “The shipment should be here soon anyway. He’ll get what he needs. Was Pierce expecting you specifically?”

“No, I don’t—I don’t think so,” Peter replied quietly. He was wringing his hands, shifting nervously in his stance. “But, what about the supply you’re taking from the shipment? It’ll be missing.”

“It’s a risk, but I’ll see if I can blame it on a miscount.” Bucky was almost certain it would never work, but he needed to ease Peter’s conscious. The kid was about ten seconds from a panic attack again. “It’ll be fine, but I need you to get out of here, Peter. Let me fix this.”

Peter stood completely still; like ice and stone, firm as a statue.

“Peter,” Bucky urged again, giving a slight shove to the kid’s shoulder, “you need to go. Before anyone sees you. Go.”

Peter nodded, his eyes trailing back to the red powder on the ground dissolving to the pavement. Thousands of dollars’ worth of product. He took one last look at Bucky, the relief no more on his face than when Bucky had arrived. He turned to head back to Queens when he sucked in a sharp gasp, almost like a yelp as he flailed back hard into Bucky’s chest.

Bucky tried to stabilize him but the kid was shaking, scrambling to get his words out but they didn’t come in time.

“What do we have here?”

Adrenaline spiking, instincts taking over, Bucky shoved Peter behind him at the sound of Rumlow’s voice emerging from behind the shadows. He rarely made trips into the neighborhoods. He never should have been here, let alone in this part of town, and yet, there he was; decked in an expensive black suit and dark red Armani tie, accompanied by two of his guards.

Cold, dark eyes fell to the red powder soaking into the pavement. He brushed the toe of his wingtips against the evidence.

“Alexander Pierce has been calling me for the last ten minutes, screaming about his missing product,” Rumlow said casually, incredibly calm given the situation.

Bucky kept an arm behind him, shielding Peter.

Rumlow paced forward, hands clamped behind his back. “Alex is one of my top distributers in D.C., so it is important that he remains satisfied in our business partnership. I’m sure you can imagine my surprise when I get a call from the man, furious, that he never received his personal supply.”

Bucky remained silent. He felt Peter grip onto the back of his jacket.

“Now, I know you’re not going to make me stand here and look like a fool,” Rumlow taunted, kicking the wet, cardboard box lying in the pothole. It tipped on its side and a flood of damp, red powder seeped into the puddle, turning it pink. “Someone better start talking.”

He was staring right at Peter, tilting his head around to get a better view around Bucky’s shoulder. He had that kind of look on his face, one that Bucky had seen before in the eyes of cruel, malicious men before they committed atrocious acts of violence. Rumlow held no capacity for mercy or forgiveness.

With single wave, Rumlow gestured to his guards to advance on Bucky and Peter. As the tall, blonde guard with unsettling light green eyes stepped forward, Bucky took a step back, dragging Peter along with him. Peter would have fallen straight to the pavement if it wasn’t for his immensely tight grip on Bucky’s arm.

Rumlow raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

“It was my fault, sir,” Bucky said firmly, desperate to get Rumlow’s stare off of the kid.

Blondie stilled, sharing a look with Rumlow who signaled for him to stand down. Peter’s hand yanked on the back of Bucky’s jacket, desperate pleas, silent questions as to what he was doing, but he ignored it.

“I found Parker while he was on his run to Pierce. Something looked off about the box and I asked to inspect it. A car horn blared and caught me off guard. I dropped it in the water.”

Rumlow pursed his lips, shaking his head with a tsk on his tongue. He didn’t believe a word out of Bucky’s mouth, but Rumlow was not a man who cared for justice. He wanted a punishment doled out, to see vengeance paid. He didn’t care who it was to and Bucky knew that. He just wanted an excuse to channel his anger into a victim.

“So, you’re saying you cost me $25,000 worth of product?” Rumlow challenged, staring Bucky dead in the eye. “Not the kid cowering behind you?”

Bucky nodded slowly, his teeth clenched so tightly it ached in his muscle. “Yes, sir. It was my mistake. Parker had nothing to do with it.”

“Okay then,” Rumlow said with a simple shrug and Peter seemed to relax behind him for a short moment. Bucky knew better than that. Within the same breath, Rumlow yanked a handgun from the back of his waist band, cocked the hammer and aimed it directly at Bucky. Peter gasped into the back of Bucky’s jacket.

“Time to take a fucking drive, Karpov.”

Bucky slowly raised his arms in surrender, stone cold in his expression, even breaths in his chest. He’d been in this position enough times in his years undercover to know what came next, to prepare for it, but Peter was a teenager, one who’d witnessed violence at the hand of a gun once before when his uncle was killed. He clutched onto Bucky’s jacket like it was a lifeline.

“Parker,” Bucky said quietly, not daring to tear his eyes from Rumlow, but Peter wasn’t hearing him. “Parker!”

Peter pulled away, stepping back a pace from Bucky, his eyes darting from the guards to Rumlow, back to his protector. His breaths were picking up again, his lower lip trembling.

“Go home, kid,” Bucky ordered as cold as his voice could manage. He needed him to make a run for it before Rumlow changed his mind, but Peter was staring at Bucky like he was waiting for him to do something, anything, to stop this. He was waiting for him to talk his way around what was about to happen or avoid whatever punishment Rumlow was brewing in his head, but there was nothing he could do. Bucky made his choice, followed through on his promise to the woman he’d give up everything for. He’d deal with the consequences.

But not before he could guarantee Peter was safe.

“Get the fuck out of here, Parker!”

The volume of his voice, the detached nature of it, was enough to shock Peter out of his daze. He blinked a few times, that same fearful look he’d had at Rumlow now directed at Bucky and while he knew it was only a result of the panic, the fear, it twisted deep into Bucky’s chest. Peter glanced over at Rumlow nervously one last time, before Rumlow waved the end of his gun with a roll of his eyes, almost in permission, and Peter took off sprinting. He didn’t look over his shoulder again as he disappeared into the night.

Bucky listened for Peter’s footsteps to fade into the faint accompaniment of crickets and gentle waves before he took in a breath again.

“I know you’re covering for the little shit,” Rumlow snarled once Peter was out of view. “I don’t know why and frankly, I don’t care. If he was anyone else, he’d be permanently off the payroll but I’m sure you know my wife requires a bit more persuasion to hold her tongue as of late, so he gets to live. Lucky him. Unfortunately for you, I’m down $25,000 and I can’t punish Parker for it.”

Rumlow took a step forward, barrel of the gun inches from Bucky’s face. A testament of wills.

“Like I said, sir,” Bucky said slowly, adjusting his position and holding Rumlow’s stare, “it was my mistake.”

“Right.” Rumlow glanced back at his guards. He waved the end of the gun in Bucky’s direction before he let it fall back to his side.

Then, the two guards rushed forward; one yanked Bucky’s hands behind his back to hold him still while the other slammed a closed fist to the side of his face. It stung, heartbeat pulsing hard into his jaw, and he could feel the sharp course of blood on his cheek from where the guard’s ring in the shape of a disembodied skull had broken skin.

Bucky shook his head, shaking away the dizziness, before the second punch landed. Cooper pooled into his mouth and he spit a glob of it to the pavement. It hung down off his chin, warm and sticky, and he barely had the time to wipe it on his shoulder before the next fist collided to his jawline.

He didn’t fight back. He knew better than that.

He took another six hits before they threw him in the back seat of the car. One of the guards, the one with the mean right swing, sat in the back next to Bucky, a hand clutched possessively on Bucky’s shoulder. The other drove while Rumlow took the passenger seat, his eyes constantly flickering to the rearview mirror.

Bucky leaned against the window, blood smearing the glass as he tried to focus on the blur of city lights as they turned to covered trees. A haze of green and brown and the dark black sky fading together until they were nothing at all.

***

He must have blacked out somewhere along the way because the next thing he knew, the car door swung open and he fell out onto the driveway with a heavy thud. The tiny rocks in the pavement embedded into his shoulder and he tried to find his feet, but he wasn’t fast enough for that. Skull Ring yanked Bucky up by his collar, throwing an arm over his shoulders and dragged him the rest of the way.

He might have been able to stumble along himself if they gave him just a moment to focus, but Rumlow was never a patient man.

They shoved Bucky through the front door and into the living room, still draped over Skull Ring’s shoulder. Brock followed in behind and closed the door, shrugging off his jacket casually as if coming home from a long day at the office. Then, he turned to his men and started to give orders, something about a basement, but Bucky couldn’t make sense of most of it, not with the ringing in his ears. It was loud and vicious, so much so that he could hear his own heart pounding through his bloodstream.

But there was one thing that broke through the noise, something that snapped him awake, eyes darting across the room as his heart lodged straight up into his throat.

“Brock?” your voice called quietly, shaken. You were standing in the frame of the kitchen door, holding a steaming mug of hot water in your hands, though they were trembling like you might drop it at any second. “What’s going on?”

Bucky only caught your eye for a second before he hung his head, but it was still enough to see the panic, the fear rushing through you at the sight of him. He didn’t want to imagine what he looked like, hanging off the arm of Rumlow’s lackey, bloodied and beaten. He could still feel your stare even as he looked down at the floorboards, blood dripping from his lips to the hardwoods below, barely able to hold himself up on his own feet.

“Baby, not now.” Rumlow pushed past Skull Ring and Bucky, trying to usher you away from the living room but you planted your feet, surprisingly defiant for the devastation in your veins.

You pulled your arms from his grasp, unwilling to leave. It surprised your husband. You'd always escaped the room at the first sign of trouble; whenever there was even a glimpse of Hydra within these walls, you’d rush to the sanctity of your library.

But not now. Not today.

“Hey, boss?” The other guard, the driver with the large nose and bright blonde hair, gestured to the floor where a pool of blood was gathering, dripping down from Bucky’s nose.

“Shit,” Rumlow cursed, disgusted by the red seeping into the pristine hardwood flooring. “Get him to the basement. I’ll deal with him there.”

“The basement?” you repeated breathily. Bucky knew full well about the basement and the stories you’d told about the screams you’d hear in the dead of night from men who’d wronged your husband. It was a room few men walked out of.

As Rumlow attempted to slide past you to make his way to the basement door, you jumped out in front of him, blocking his path. “Is that necessary? What could he have possibly done, Brock? He’s your—he's your right hand. You need him.”

Rumlow paused, dark eyes flickering from you as you stood in his way, back to Bucky as he struggled to stay on his feet. He smirked, his tongue running over his teeth as an idea formulated in his head. “You know what? Why don’t you come with us? I’ll show you what happens when someone costs me a paycheck.”

Skull Ring dragged Bucky down the stairs before he could wait to hear for your answer. His feet caught on the bannister and he almost tumbled the rest of the way down if Skull Ring wasn’t gripping his arm so tight that he might rip it clean off. He threw Bucky to the center of the floor, cement under his knees and stains of dark maroon littering the ground. He grabbed a tight hold of Bucky’s right wrist. Blondie came up and grabbed his left, keeping him positioned on his knees.

“Damn Karpov,” Rumlow chuckled as he made his way down the stairs. “You look like shit.”

Bucky spat the pool of blood in his mouth to the floor defiantly.

Then, you emerged from behind your husband in cautious, tentative steps as you eyed Bucky. You were trying to keep your distance, trying to control the red in your eyes before you cried at the sight of him; jaw clenched, nails digging into your skin. The worst you’d ever seen of him was the night you’d bandaged his hands and he had been the one to dole out the violence. You’d never seen him as the victim.

“You see, baby,” Rumlow started, rolling up his sleeves, “someone destroyed $25,000 worth of Cerberus this evening. I’m sure you’re aware who was running product for me today, aren’t you?”

Your eyes shot to your husband, wide, and Bucky watched as your lips parted in shock, followed shortly but a wave of paralyzing fear. Your breath hitched, stopped right in your chest. You did not inhale again.

“Relax. Your precious cousin is fine,” Rumlow groaned, brushing you off before you could even ask. He made his way to Bucky and gripped a tight hold of his jaw. “Karpov here is taking the fall. Still don’t know why he’d cover for some little punk ass kid but frankly, I don’t care. I’m down $25,000 and someone is going to pay for it.”

A hard pulsing in the side of his cheek nearly had Bucky collapsing to the ground if it wasn’t for the men on either side of him holding him still. You screamed at the shock of it and as Rumlow threw a second fist to Bucky’s cheekbone, your hands clasped over your mouth to keep silent.

Rumlow took a few steps back, shaking out his hand. “Now, pay close attention, baby. I want things to be crystal clear from now on. Tell your cousin if he fucks up my product again, I’ll beat him a hell of a lot worse than I will Karpov.”

You didn’t respond, but Bucky could practically hear your heart threatening to beat straight out of your chest. He sure as hell could hear the frequent, shallow intakes of breath as you nodded rapidly at your husband, stumbling a few paces back until you hit the bannister with a thud.

Bucky tried to catch your eye for a moment, to tell you that he was alright, that he’d been in this position before and survived. He'd come out with a few bruises and cuts, but he’d heal.

It didn’t matter how much of it was true, but he needed you to believe it. The fear on your face was enough to punch him through the gut without a touch from Rumlow or his men.

“Now,” Rumlow snickered, curling his hand into a fist, “let’s teach him a lesson, boys.”

***

Bucky had trained for this. He’d been an army ranger before he was recruited to the FBI. He knew how to take a few hits and withstand pain. He’d once been held prisoner by drug smugglers in Caracas and beaten within an inch of his life, but somehow none of it compared to this.

It wasn’t the pain that did him in or the blood pooling in his mouth he’d started to choke on or open wound breaking further with every hit. It wasn’t the blinding pulsing in his head or bruises sure to form on his wrists from where the guards were holding him down. 

It was your screaming.

Bucky had lost count of the hits but he’d broken through the sirens in his ears long enough to hear you begging for Rumlow to stop. His left eye was half swollen shut and the blood trailing down his forehead dripped into his good eye, making your figure red and blurry in front of him, but he watched as you darted out and grabbed Rumlow’s hand mid-air when he pulled back for another swing.

“Enough!” you yelled, voice cracking. You shoved your husband hard in the chest, forcing him to stumble a few steps. “He’s had enough, Brock! Look at him!”

Rumlow stared at you for a moment, jaw clenched, and Bucky wondered if the standoff between you and your husband might result in something worse than his own broken face, but then, suddenly, Rumlow started to laugh. It was an unpleasant sound, sinister and revolting. He stretched out his hand, his knuckles coated red in Bucky’s blood as he let it fall to his side.

“You’re right, baby,” he agreed, waving shortly at his guards who dropped Bucky’s arms, leaving him to crash down to the concrete in a heap, unable to hold his body weight up. “Sometimes I get a little caught up in the fun of it. Hell, maybe I was just showing off for my girl.”

When Bucky looked up again, Rumlow’s arm was snaked around your waist. You were tense; two hands on his chest like you were trying to push him away but knew better than to do so in front of his men. His fingers dipped into the edges of your hips, seeking lower along the curves of your spine and you sucked in a harsh breath.  

“Think you can have a little talk with Parker for me? Let him know what happens when he fucks with my product?” he cooed, voice low, almost charming if it weren’t for the red stained on his hands. You gritted your teeth, nodding slowly. Rumlow pressed a kiss to your cheek. He didn’t seem to notice, or maybe he didn’t care, that your whole body had become rigid as stone. 

“Good girl,” he sneered, praise laced in degradation. 

“What should we do with him, boss?” Blondie asked and Bucky felt the steel toe of a boot prodding at his shoulder as if testing if he were still alive, waiting for a reaction.

“Nothing, you idiot,” Rumlow snapped, stepping away from you enough to give you the opportunity to jolt away from him unnoticed. “Karpov is still my guy. He fucked up but he learned his lesson. Ain’t that right?”

Bucky nodded, though he was sure it came out as little more than a blink.

“He’s been nothing but an asset to this team since we brought him on,” Rumlow continued. “I’m not losing my right-hand man over this bullshit. He knows better than to cover for the kid again, doesn’t he? Problem solved.”

The guards stepped back, hands clasped in front of them. Rumlow kneeled down in front of Bucky, grabbing a firm hold of his chin, forcing him to meet his eye, or whatever he was able to given the swelling. Rumlow started to smile; a big, toothy grin, though it barely touched his eyes. Bucky wondered if it ever did.

“Damn, I really fucked you up, brother,” Rumlow laughed, releasing Bucky’s jaw with a forceful push. “You know what? Consider me impressed. Don’t know why the hell you’d take a beating like this for some snot nosed punk, but it takes balls; balls I guarantee these two morons don’t have.”

Rumlow started to make his way to the stairs, gesturing for his men to follow behind. He paused, his smile fading into something darker as he looked back at Bucky. “Don’t fucking pull that shit again with me, do you understand?”

Bucky didn’t say anything, but he didn’t suppose he had to.

You were still standing just a few feet away, arms wrapped tightly around yourself, staring down at Bucky like you might just break in two. He couldn’t quite tell if it was a scream trying to push its way through your chest or a sob or an all-consuming numbness threatening to pull you under, but you held your stance, back to your husband, nails digging into your arms.

“Deal with him,” Rumlow ordered to you. “Seems like the least you can do since it was your worthless shit of a cousin that forced my hand to begin with.”

You nodded, clinging to the faded fabric of your sweatshirt as you took a step closer to the stairs to watch as your husband ascended to the first floor. He was talking of going for Italian food, that he had worked up an appetite, and his guards were laughing, as if none of them has just committed assault and battery, as if they hadn’t just beat a man within several inches of his life.

Bucky realized then, he was struggling to get a breath in from the blood gurgling in his throat. 

The second the door slammed shut, you rushed at him; skidding on your knees as you scrambled along the cement, unbothered by the stains of maroon under you, and your hands darted to the sides of his face. Grasping a hold of him, trying to caught his eye through the swelling and the blood, but he winced, hissing at the sudden sensation and you pulled away quickly, cursing under your breath. Despite the pain, he missed it instantly.

“Oh God, James,” you exhaled, tears in your voice as you gingerly aided him to lean against the wall. He was heavy, heavier than you should be able to lift on your own, but you guided him towards the wall, adjusting his body as gently as you could manage. He was like a rag doll, body barely able to move itself as you tried to keep him steady.

Once he was situated against the wall, your hands began to hover over him, circling at his chest, his shoulders, trembling as you curled them to fists and held them tight to your body; you were afraid to touch him. Your eyes kept coming back to the steady stream of oozing red on his face.

“Y/n...” he mumbled, but not even he could make out the sound of your name on his tongue. A sticky, coppery substance dripped down the corner of his mouth.

“Jesus – fuck,” you cursed, voice shaking. Your fingertips brushed at the blood as it passed his lips, trying to wipe it away but it only smeared down his chin, under your nails. You bit down to stifle a sob as it tore its way through your spine. “I need—I need something for the blood.”

You jumped back to your feet, scrambling around the room. Miscellaneous items fell off the shelves in your search as you frantically searched throughout the room, your panic evident in your murmuring under your breath.

“Where is it? Come on... where is it? Where the fuck is it!?”

Bucky tried to call your name, but nothing came out. He coughed on the blood pooling in the back of his mouth but found a sense of calm in the patter of your bare feet upon the cement, your hushed whispers to yourself.

Bucky sighed, closing his eyes as he leaned back against the cool surface of the wall. He found relief for a moment as his conscious began to drift, giving into the emptiness of a dark, painless embrace.

***

He didn’t know how long it took before you found whatever it was you were looking for, but the next thing he knew, you were kneeling back at his side again, dabbing his forehead with a soft cloth. It was stained red with tiny untouched white fabric on the corners. He swallowed, finding it a little easier now.

“Thought I lost you for a second,” you whispered. Your voice was shaken and you tried to mask the tremors in your hands as you cleaned the blood from his face, but it was of little use.

Bucky could barely see you, but you were positioned on his right, where he could watch you out of his only good eye. and for that he was thankful. His heart rate stared to draw out in even beats the longer he looked at you.

Your hair was tussled on top of your head in a loose bun, pieces falling out the sides and down by your ears. You were dressed in loose fitting pajama shorts and an old college sweatshirt a few sizes too big for you, the same one he saw you wear on one of his first days on this case as you skirted around your library in search of a book. Face free of makeup and eyes red with tears, reflective streaks dripped along your cheeks; you were nibbling on the ends of your lips.

There was blood stained to the sleeves of the sweatshirt.

“You really scared me,” you confessed, keeping your focus on his wounds, though you were holding back tears. You refolded the cloth to a clean side, though it was still faded in pink. “I’ve never—He’s never made me watch something like that before. I knew that he... I knew he was capable of it but actually watching him... and for it to be you... I just... God, why is there so much blood…”

Bucky reached up and gently wrapped his hand around your wrist, drawing your attention away from the wound on his cheekbone and when you finally looked at him, you broke into tears. 

“M’okay,” Bucky mumbled, his voice raspy and low, but it was audible.

You shook your head, kneeing back on your heels and brushing your hand over your face. Your skin glistened around your eyes, down by your cheeks, too. Your nose was runny and sniffling, and you were still so beautiful. Bucky wondered if it was part of his haze, the delirium kicking in or maybe the shock, but he’d always find ways to admire you.

“This is my fault,” you gasped, pushing the palms of your hands to your eyes and Bucky’s heart lurched.

“Don’t do that.”

He couldn’t get more than a few words out at a time from all the swelling but when he put his hand on your thigh, tracing small, delicate patterns, you let your hands fall away. Eyes trailing down to his hand and you quickly gathered it in your own and brought it to your lips. You pressed warm, gentle kisses to each of his knuckles, to the back of his hand, the inside of his palm, before you rested it on the side of your face, aiding him in cupping your cheek.

“You were covering for Peter, James. I asked you to do that.” Fresh tears brushed over Bucky’s hand.

“I make my own choices,” he insisted, pushing through the rasp in his throat, voice still barely audible above a whisper but it was enough. Your eyes were still focused on the broken skin on his cheekbone. “I can handle it, sweetheart.”

You sighed, carefully setting his hand back against his own thigh as you picked up the cloth again, resuming your work.

“You shouldn’t have to.”

***

Over the next hour, you carefully cleaned and stitched each of the open wounds on Bucky’s face. You handled each one like you’d done it dozens of times before, though he was certain you were only putting on a brave face for him. The tremor in your lower lip masked by the sharp bite of your teeth did not go unnoticed.

The long cut against his cheekbone the worst of it, laying on top of a swollen well of tissue as you weaved the needle through his skin. He was numbed from the hits, so he shouldn’t be able to feel any of it, and yet, all he could focus on was the delicate touch of your fingertips over his nose, his jawline, his lips, keeping your hand steady as you furrowed your brow in concentration.

When you were done, the blood had long been cleared from his face; absorbed into the piles of rags lying beside you. You brushed your thumb over the stitches, ones you’d made him promise to get checked out by someone with a professional degree when morning came, but you’d done well enough. He was in one piece. The only evidence held in the slight swelling and discoloration forming on his face.

“I hate that this happened to you,” you whispered, letting your hand gently caress his cheek. You took a deep breath, chewing on the inside of your lip and trying to hide the tremor there. “I hate that you’ll go back to work for him tomorrow like none of this happened. I hate that he would have done this to Peter if it weren’t for you...”

“I told you, darlin’, I’m alright,” Bucky tried to reassure you, though you had trouble hearing it.

His voice was coming back to him, the strain in his throat going down. He gently brushed away a fallen strand of hair from your eyes, tucking it behind your ear, and setting his palm to lie against your cheek. He smiled sweetly at you despite the crack in his lip, his thumb brushing in tender strokes under your eyes to wipe away the wetness there.

“He’s a monster,” you said, voice strained like you were holding back tears again and still, laced in venom. “I hate him. I fucking hate him.”

You grabbed Bucky’s hand from your cheek, curling it in your own. You kissed his knuckles again and he swore it might be his favorite feeling in the world. He'd memorize it, seer it into his senses. 

In your exhale, the breath was warm against his skin. “I don’t understand why you work for him. You’re a good man, James.”

Bucky flinched at the name.

He thought of all the times he’d lied to you about who he really was, about the deception it took and calculated coincidences in the beginning of your relationship, how he’d manipulated you into giving information on Hydra and your husband, even though you gave it over willingly, you didn't know the consequences of it.

“I’m-- I’m not, sweetheart,” he shook his head, eyes casting down to the floor.

He thought of the times he’d followed Rumlow’s orders; how he’d beaten men into the state he was in now with little evidence for their crimes. It was part of his job, his assignment on this case, to give over pieces of himself – his morality – to the identity he was assigned. It was how they brought down so many criminals without being detected. He’d done it dozens of times before, but things were different now.

Now, he had you.

“You don’t know the things I’ve done,” he continued, not giving you a chance to interject. “I've hurt people, Y/n. Worse than this. I’ve killed, too. I’m... I’m not a good person.”

“Yes, you are,” you insisted, shaking your head. You reached out to cup the sides of his face and this time, it didn’t hurt, not with the wounds cleaned and stitched. You were impossibly gentle with him, like the touch of a feather to burning embers. “I know your heart, James. The rest... it doesn’t matter. I know you.”

“I wish that were true,” he sighed, turning to press a kiss to the palm of your right hand.

“Why do you keep saying things like that?” Your hands slowly fell back to your sides. “You’re not making sense, James.”

Bucky swallowed and it tasted of copper. He reached out to you, hand brushing up against your neck, thumb tracing your jawline.

“Do you trust me?”

You narrowed your eyes, surprised by the question. “Of course, but—”

“Then trust me a little longer.” Bucky licked at the broken skin on his lips, trying to keep himself from spilling the truth to you right then and there; his real name, his history, the case he was building against your husband. It was nearly impossible with the way you were looking at him, with tears fresh in your eyes and this helpless kind of adoration nestled within the shimmer in your irises.

You seemed reluctant, wanting the answers you deserved, but you nodded, trusting him blindly as you did. He wondered if you’d come to regret that later. He tried not to think about it.

“I’ll take care of you, sweetheart, I promise,” he added upon noticing the questions brewing in the back of your mind in the slight bite of your lip. “I won’t let anything happen to you. You’re safe with me. Always.” 

“I know.”

Your voice was just barely a whisper, eyes flickering down to his lips before the returned to ocean blue. Bucky’s heart was pounding terribly in his chest but it was exhilarating. It sprung life into his veins, electricity through even the darkest parts of him, and he pushed himself off the wall, closer to you.

“James, be careful...” you exhaled, your voice made of silk and honey. He could feel your pulse beating under his fingertips; rapid thumps in rhythm with his own. They sang together, composing a symphony in line with your shallow breaths and the drizzle of rain outside against the small windowpane above.

He leaned in closer, his eyes studying yours for reasons to stop, but you gave him none; no excuses to pull away, no hesitancy or reluctance, you waited patiently for him. His nose brushed yours and he paused, eyes closed and reveling in the warmth of your breath in his skin. He’d been here before too many times, so close and never close enough.

With a short inhale and a breath of courage, Bucky leaned forward, capturing your lower lip between his own. Softer than he’d imagined. He felt you sigh against him, relief in the soft vibrations of your lips as you kissed him; a longing you’d shared for another for so long, it was like floodgates breaking open at a single touch.

It would have been rushed, desperate and heated after nearly a year of holding back if it wasn’t for the injuries he’d sustained; the cuts and bruises and swelling on his face. You were tender with him, careful of the cut on his lower lip as you pulled away for breath and began to press sweet, gingered kisses to the tip of his nose, between his eyes, his forehead, his temple, the stitches on his cheekbone, his jaw, healing him, saving him, until he missed you so terribly he pulled you back to his mouth.

You smiled to his lips, a breathy kind of laugh against him, a relief in kissing him like it was where you were always meant to be. You tasted of dried tears and the chocolate peppermint tea you’d been steeping before he was thrown bloodied and broken at your feet. Your lips were like satin and velvet, smooth and tender against the throbbing ache of his cheekbone; sharp contrast in the delicacy of your touch to the violence he endured.

Then, your tongue brushed at the broken middle of his lower lip and Bucky hissed, sucking in a harsh breath at the sting of it.

“Shit— I-I’m sorry,” you gasped, pulling away breathless. There was a flash of concern in your eyes but Bucky started to laugh under his breath, shaking his head and suddenly, you were smiling too, grinning impossibly wide over swollen lips.

Bucky swore in that moment you’d never been more beautiful, not even in the lavender dress. Lips swollen and chest panting. Hair a little messier than before. A glimmer in your eye and the flash of concern breaking through the dizziness touching over your features.

“Don’t apologize for kissing me like that,” Bucky laughed under his breath, playing with the ends of your hair. He tugged you closer to press a final, chaste kiss to your lips.

“Don’t wanna hurt you,” you mumbled, smile brimming on your face as he pulled away.

“Not possible, sweetheart.”

You were staring at him like he might hold the entire universe in his hands. Maybe he did when it was you within his arms. His sun and moon and stars and galaxy.

Your fingers traced down along his jawline, feather light against the black and blue discoloration. It was like you were memorizing him, drawing him, touching tenderly along his edges and grounding yourself to him. 

“What are we gonna do, James?” you asked slowly, smile slowly slipping from your face.

Bucky could feel the heaviness of your question pushing down deep onto his chest. You brushed your thumb over the corner of his lips and he stole a kiss to the tips of your fingers. 

It wasn’t a question he could answer. You knew that. The two of you were already treading in dangerous water and now, the waves were growing higher, the clouds above erupting with thunder under darkened skies. A storm was coming; one neither of you had the power to control.

Bucky started to wonder if either of you would survive it.

[softinkshadows]

Shingeki no Kyojin Demon AU (Part 1) (x female reader)

You’re a young graduate working long hours at a bistro and doing food deliveries. Little did you expect your life to get entangled with the leading figures of the largest conglomerates in the world. Or a thousand-year-old demon clan war.

Part 1 / ?

---

“Tch,” Levi tuts in distaste as his gaze wanders across the empty pantry shelves. “There’s no tea, Erwin. You have a 50 million-dollar home, but no damn tea.” He shuts the sleek cabinet doors brusquely, giving a side-eye at the blond reclining on a lush sofa in the living room. Behind him, large down-to-floor Fleetwood doors open into an expansive backyard, where the soft lights of the infinity pool and the pool house stand out against the night sky and the rolling hills of Paradis beyond. 

“There’s no coffee either,” a loud voice calls from the corridor, “Just rows and rows of expensive alcohol. Talk about an upgrade... Ahhhh and I’m getting hungry too...” Levi turns to see Hange return from the wine cellar, looking equal parts fascinated and frustrated with the home. 

“Sorry about that. I only just moved in proper, so I only have the essentials - Miche, glad you could make it,” Erwin breaks of mid-sentence and nods to greet the brown-haired man entering the living room. 

“I saw off Nanaba with the rest outside. For a meeting this late at night... this must be something big, Erwin,” Miche glances around the room, his body tense with concern.

“I’m afraid it is. We need to get used to more meetings like this. It seems they are moving again,” Erwin leans forward, tenting his fingers. Levi moves to sit on a nearby couch, his brows furrowed and arms crossed, clearly annoyed. “If we’re going to be up all night, we’re going to need tea.”

Hange sighs in acknowledgement, before running out onto the patio, yelling. “Moblit!! We need tea, coffee and decent hot food. Anything that can deliver at this hour, and fast!” As she rounds back into the house, the scurrying of footsteps and the softer response of “Ryoukai! (trans: Roger!)” is heard immediately.

---

“Change the channel will ya!” your uncle shouts from the kitchen as the blare of heavy metal rock screams from the old, wall-mounted television.

“Just a minute!” you yell back over the din, serving a customer’s plate of fish and chips before walking back to the bistro counter, scrambling for the remote. The screeching music stops as the screen switches to the standard Paradis News Channel, and you heave a sigh of relief. It is already close to midnight, and the bistro is occupied with only a handful of regulars who work the night shift nearby. But as the niece of Bruno’s Bistro, a cosy establishment and hidden gem of the Trost district, you had a reputation to uphold; there is no way you’d put your customers through that noise at this hour. 

A hand pushes a small plate of tacos towards you on the counter. “Supper,” says your uncle cheerily, wiping the sweat from his face with a towel round his neck, his eyes shining with quiet affection. He brings a second plate round for himself, tucking in straightaway, and you do the same. You know that even after all these years, he feels sorry. That he blames himself when you threw away the prospect of working a cushy, corporate job after graduation to help him run his bistro, toiling long hours till three in the morning every day. But you are happy to. It was your uncle Bruno who took you in as a child and looked after you since your parents’ untimely death many years ago. His wife had passed on earlier from an illness, and he was alone. So were you. And for the longest time, all you had was each other.  The main phone rings loudly from the kitchen, and Bruno walks over to answer it. You can’t make out the conversation, but you suppose it’s one of the bistro’s food suppliers.

“This is Ilse Langnar, and this is Paradis Nightly News. Today, Mitras Holdings announced a joint venture with SNK Group to develop the world’s largest shopping district in downtown of Paradis city. This marks Mitras’ third large scale project in Paradis, after the restoration of the Reiss chapel and the commissioning of a cutting-edge renewable energy plant in the eastern district. We hear more from its chairman on their string of successes -” You look up from your food at the flickering image on the television, as a stoic, charismatic man with blue eyes addresses a crowd of reporters on a podium. “What a different life,” you mutter to yourself, before turning your attention back to the tacos. The newscaster drones on. “In other news, Liberio Corp’s shares increased another 10% this week, cementing its standing as the most influential conglomerat-”

“Y/n!” Bruno’s voice interrupts suddenly, slamming the phone receiver down. “We got orders! Lots of them!”

“What? At this time?” You hurry and shove the last of the tacos into your mouth, wiping your hands of crumbs, before gathering your senses.

“We got half a dozen chicken and beef pastries each, 1 strong black, 1 mocha, 1 latte, 4 flat whites and 2 cups of our best tea. And it’s delivery,” recites Bruno. Your quick mind and experience from working through the busiest shifts already has you committing all the orders to memory and preparing the drinks on cue. Minutes later, you’re packing the orders neatly into the back of your motorbike, and strapping on your helmet.

You peer at the slip of paper with the delivery address scribbled over with Bruno’s messy handwriting.40 Ehrmich Drive... Damn. Isn’t that the wealthiest district in all of Paradis, just north of downtown? you wonder to yourself. Didn’t know rich people pulled all-nighters. Whoever was on the phone did promise to tip lavishly if you could deliver within the hour. Without hesitating, you step on the gas pedal.

You find yourself winding through the lanes of Ehrmich Drive, only passing by an intimidating front gate every two hundred meters or so. The houses here are huge. And so far apart that it is rather dark, save for the sporadic streetlights here and there. You come to a stop at a long steel gate, on the side of which the number 40 is engraved into the limestone wall. “Where’s the damn doorbell,” you mutter, looking around wildly but to no avail. You catch sight of some security cameras and wave to get its attention, but nothing happens. You groan. The person who called didn’t leave a contact number.  Here goes nothing, you think, resigning yourself to fate. You try the steel gate, and realize it slides open easily. So much for security. 

It’s a walk before you even reach the main house, a chic two-storeyed mansion sprawling across this vast acre of land. You are aware of your place when you catch sight of several luxury cars parked along the driveway, each looking more expensive than the last. You look back at your faded, worn sneakers on the gravel, feeling extremely out of place. Strangely, what appears to be a mammoth-sized glass front door doesn’t budge. Please just make my job easier, you grumble to yourself in frustration. Contemplating leaving the food on the hood of one of the cars, your turn back when you are drawn to sounds of distant conversation from around the patio. 

“In any case, the purebloods are moving in on Paradis,” you hear a familiar low, smooth voice. “They are certain that they’ll find what they’ve been looking for.”

Your mind whirls a little. Pureblood? What is that? Some kind of dog? 

Another deep voice chimes in. “Is this the reason for the venture with SNK? I thought we were supposed to be killing off -” Then silence. Killing?

Just as you are about to reach the corner, someone steps in front of you so fast you barely have any time to register. A man with cropped dark hair and even darker eyes blocks your way, dressed in a fitted black suit and a slightly unbuttoned white dress shirt. He’s a little shorter than you, but something about the intensity of his eyes, his stance with one hand resting on the wall and the other casually tucked into his pocket makes you feel incredibly uneasy. You feel your chest tighten, you mind blanking out as an indescribable fear washes over you -suddenly you’re thirteen again, running through the dark streets, breathless, desperate, running away from something - what? - and then cold, cold all over, feeling the shadows encroaching, creeping across your skin and reaching deep to clutch at your heart, squeezing the light out of you- You snap back to the present and feel yourself trembling, shrinking under his gaze. Your mouth runs dry and you struggle to form words, your feet frozen to the spot. Suddenly, the man takes a sharp intake of breath, his hand against the wall now balled into a fist, as if trying to maintain some semblance of control. His eyes narrow, scrutinising you.

“Who the fucking hell are-” he stops himself, glancing at the bag of drinks and food you’re holding. Then he yells, furious.  “Moblit!” 

Within seconds, a panicky-looking brunette appears from the side. “Take her through the front,” the black-haired man ordered.  You’re mindlessly ushered through the main door, which you realize is in fact unlocked. It seemed impossibly heavy earlier, yet the brunette in front of you swings it wide open with apparent ease. He leads you through the entry way into a informal dining area, passing by the living room along the way. You can feel a frightening atmosphere emanating from that direction, heightened by a pervasive and uncomfortable silence hanging throughout the house. Were you intruding upon something just now? You lift your gaze briefly, and what you see causes your back to stiffen, the hairs on your neck standing on end.  The shorter, dark-eyed man from moments ago leans against the open doorway leading out to the patio. On a couch nearby, a woman with dark brown ponytail and glasses looks over her shoulder, while next to her sits a man with light brown hair and emerald eyes. In the centre of the room, in a crisp blue dress shirt with sleeves rolled up to his elbows, sits a man whose presence seems to be the electrifying point around which everything else seems rotate. Blond hair and icy blue eyes. It takes a second for you to realize who he is. And another to realize they are all looking dead straight at you. The next few minutes are a haze. The suffocating, overwhelming sensation returns, and you avert your eyes and set the delivery down on the table before your legs give out. The man called Moblit quickly hands you a fifty, apologizing and thanking you at the same time, before he sees you off. You heart thuds wildly in your chest. You can’t think, and you only vaguely feel your limbs clumsily half-running, making their way back down the driveway, across the wide lawn, past the gate and back onto your bike. It’s only then that you finally catch a breath. You hastily step on the gas pedal and take off into the early hours of the morning, still feeling the sharp and penetrating gazes burning into your back all the way home.  ---- Notes: This is my first attempt at a long running narrative, after falling so deep with snk recently. The canon status of many characters break my heart, and I wanted to write them into a world where they aren’t dying or dead. Not sure where this chapter will lead, but I have some mechanics of the world thought out, with hopefully more demon/power smut things coming in the later chapters. Please bear with my trashy trashy writing

[rhysismydaddy]

A High Stakes Game (Rowaelin)

This is me forcing myself to write something besides ACOTAR. (It’s still SJM but leave me alone). Lemme just preface this by saying I don’t know jack about poker, so everything in here is either from Wikihow or pulled out of my ass. 

IK I said this was coming out yesterday, but I have a good excuse: I was reading From Blood and Ash (8.9/10 recommend... ending is super obvious but still so good)

I DIDN’T EDIT THIS AND I’M NOT SORRY (maybe a lil)

Masterlist

____________________________________________________________

Aelin Galathynius, professional criminal and longtime plotter of idiotic, amazing schemes that threatened the sanity of her closest friends, sat down at the poker table and smiled. 

“Ready to lose some more money, Whitehorn?”

The man across from her scowled, making her smile grow. Irritating him was perhaps the only feeling better than kicking his ass at cards.

“It was only pocket change, don’t get cocky.” He tilted his head and smirked. “Plus, it sure as hell won’t be happening again. I think I’ve finally figured you out, Galathynius.”

Aelin rolled her eyes, trying to look unbothered. 

His version of “pocket change” was twenty grand. And if she won that much tonight, she’d finally have enough cash to pay back Arobyn and get the hell out of his reach. 

But that wasn’t what had her shaken. 

It was the fact that in all her time playing cards and hustling men who couldn’t look past her cleavage, she’d never faced an opponent like Rowan Whitehorn. He watched her every move, made a note of all her expressions, and generally caused her to have to work ten times harder.

He was a pain in her ass, basically. 

Had been ever since he’d shown up a month ago, looking like a dangerous, sexy villain in a gangster movie. Aelin would admit that at first, his looks had distracted her. 

Until he swiped two thousand dollars worth of chips away from her. 

Bastard.

Now that she knew better, she didn’t let the silver hair, piercing green eyes, or alluring ink of his tattoo distract her. She treated him like a real adversary, was cautious with her chips, and never, ever let him get under her skin. 

So when he said he had her figured out... she didn’t exactly doubt him. And considering she’d had to pull out every single tip and trick she’d ever learned to beat him last Friday, he probably wouldn’t fall for any one of them again tonight. 

Even if he was having a beautifully hard time focusing for once. His bright eyes kept darting over to her, sweeping over her bare shoulders, deep V of her dress, and bright red lipstick.

He always looked, but unlike the other men sitting around the table, he never said a word about it. 

Interesting. 

“Concentrate, Rowan,” she chided with a grin, leaning back to take a peak at her cards. “I’d hate for this to be too easy.”

Two aces, two kings, one five. Not bad, but it could be beat. She needed another ace or king to even be in the running. 

“You’re so annoying,” Rowan growled back, sharp face not revealing a thing as he looked down at his cards. “Two thousand.”

Aelin called, keeping her face blank and uninterested. She’d brought ten grand with her tonight, and if this went poorly, it’d take her at least two more weeks to win it back. 

“I’ll take one,” she told the dealer, sliding the five over. 

The other players at the table--a three-hundred pound Russian named Vlad and a shifty, skinny guy that never said a word--made their plays. 

“Two for me,” Rowan said, leaning back and sipping from his drink. 

Aelin’s mind turned with possibilities, going through the list of cards they’d already seen tonight. Her bet was that he was shooting for a flush and needed two cards of hearts to pull it off. 

The trick to counting cards, ladies, gentlemen, and criminals, is discretion. She’d never been caught and banned from any of the games in town because she never walked away with more than thirty grand. Small wins to some of the whales, but she didn’t want too much attention on her. 

She peaked at the card she’d gotten and forced herself to look disappointed as she saw the ace. 

Full house. 

“I’ll raise to three,” she said, sliding a small pile of chips into the center.

Fat Putin called, Slender Man dropped out. 

Rowan’s eyes narrowed as the bet came around to him. “Let’s go four.”

Aelin’s stomach dropped out. That was a nine grand bet on a single hand, and hers wasn’t even that great. If she bet and lost, she’d only have a thousand bucks for tonight. But if she didn’t, she’d lose the five grand she’d put down. 

Another reason she was a winner at the table: she trusted her gut. 

“I’ll call.”

The Russian gruffed something she couldn’t understand and dropped out. It was just her and Whitehorn now. 

He looked down at his cards, then studied her face in a way that made her grit her teeth. Aelin propped an elbow on the table and narrowed her eyes, and he smiled, tattoo gleaming in the light. 

His eyes swept across her face, then lower. Usually, when someone at the game looked at her like that, she made it a point to take their entire nest. But for some reason, she just returned the favor. 

As was the last three times she’d played against him, he was wearing an expensively cut, jet black suit, which made the ink of his tattoo pop and his hair look like ice. His lips were in that permanent scowl of his, even though there was no anger in his eyes. 

It really was a shame someone so handsome was so damn infuriating. 

“I’ll raise to ten,” he said, shooting a meaningful glance at her nest. He wanted her to go all in on a full house? Before the flop?

She heard herself respond before her brain caught up. “Call.”

Jesus, A. Calm down. 

Since they were the only two players at the table, the dealer nodded and flipped three cards up. Aelin felt like she might throw up as she saw that nothing in there would help her. 

“Check,” she said, passing the bet to Rowan. 

He gave her a smile that probably looked innocent to anyone else. “Fifteen.”

“You know I don’t have it,” she lied, following her number one rule to never withdraw any more than she had planned. 

Rowan shrugged, leaning forward to brace both arms against the table. “Bet something other than money, then.”

Alarm bells, and a strange amount of intrigue, started flaring in her head. 

“Like what?” she asked, coating her voice in confidence. 

He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a cigarette, taking his time lighting it. After exhaling a thick fog of smoke, he looked her over and smirked. “One night with you.”

Every head in the place turned their way. 

Up till now, this hadn’t been that interesting of a game. 

Even though she could hardly breathe, Aelin said, “You’re not serious.”

“Oh, but I am.” He laughed softly. “You win, you finally have enough to pay Arobyn Hammel back. You lose, you come upstairs.”

Her brain couldn’t make sense of what he’d just said. He knew about Arobyn? Her debt? 

“How do you-”

“I told you I figured you out.”

Oh, fuck. This was bad. 

Or maybe not.

She couldn’t decide. 

He was really going to trade sex for a poker game?

It wasn’t like she wasn’t ridiculously attracted to him. She definitely was. And she knew she probably would’ve slept with him if they’d met outside a hotel casino. But this felt... different than just having sex with him. 

On the other hand, she could be done. Her hand was good, and depending on the next card flipped, it could get better. If another ace turned up, she’d have four of a kind. 

And she’d be done. Debts paid, nothing holding her here. It was risky, but too tempting to shoot down.

“Deal.”

Rowan smiled, shaking his head softly, and gestured to the dealer who ignored how illegal this transaction was and reached to turn the last card over. 

An ace.

Holy hell.

Aelin smiled and flipped her cards over. “Four of a kind.”

Which could only be beat by a straight flush or a-

“Royal flush.” 

A gasp went through the crowd that had gathered around them as he flipped his hand over, and Aelin honestly thought she might pass out. 

He’d won. 

She forced herself to roll her eyes and smile. “Congratulations.”

On the bright side, you didn’t lose ten grand. 

Just some of your dignity. 

At the leering stares of every man in the room, she amended her thought. 

Okay, all your dignity. 

Rowan snuffed his cigarette out and stood, the group of people looking between him and Aelin with unabashed curiosity on their faces. 

Even though he’d won, his face didn’t hold a single emotion as he walked over to her side of the table and extended a hand. “Let’s go.”

She bit her lip, trying to think what her odds would be of making a break for the door. She’d never be able to get through the crowd, though, let alone outrun him in all his long-legged glory.

So she grabbed his hand and let him pull her through the shocked, laughing, gaping group of people towards the elevator. 

Once inside, she stood silent, not knowing exactly what to say. 

He led her down a hallway and into a hotel room, then turned to her. 

And stared.

She just stared back. 

She was about to tell him that if he honestly expected her to sleep with him over a poker game that he go fuck himself when he shocked the hell out of her. 

“Want to watch a movie?”

“Um, what?”

“We’re watching a movie.” He flopped down on the bed and grabbed the remote. “Sit down, Aelin.”

She stood standing. Rowan just sighed, kicked off his shoes, and messed with the remote. 

When an actual movie--a very manly war movie, mind you--started playing, she realized he was serious and sat next to him on the bed, leaning against the headboard.

Her mind couldn’t stop reeling, though.

He’d been ready to give her fifteen grand for a night with her, and he didn’t even expect to collect if he won? 

She eyed him curiously. He looked relaxed, harsh face not scowling for once. The light from the movie made his hair almost glow in the dark, and even though people were shooting and yelling and dying, he looked happy. 

Aelin slid down a bit, continuing to stare at him until he turned to look at her, too. 

Green eyes, soft lips, sharp jawline. 

“You really don’t expect me to sleep with you?”

“I mean, you’re probably going to fall asleep at some point...” he joked, but shook his head and sighed. “No, Aelin. Despite what you apparently think, I prefer women who actually want to have sex with me.”

Her mind and body were reeling with questions and answers. Why had he bet that, then? Was this some seduction technique she’d never heard of; acting like you didn’t want sex when you did?

Hell if it wasn’t working.

She bit her lip, unable to not smile at the annoyed look on his face. “I never said I don’t want to, stupid.”

A spark shot through his eyes, and there was a soft smile on his face as he ran a calloused thumb across her cheek. “That was a really good deal for you, then,” he mused with a chuckle.

“You’re such a bast-”

He closed the distance between them, lips still smiling as they met hers. After three weeks of wondering what he’d taste like, Aelin finally had her answer. 

She didn’t quite know how to describe it other than addictive as hell. 

She slid her tongue in his mouth, and his hands moved down her waist to pull her on top of him. 

“I can’t believe you put up fifteen grand to get me up here,” she murmured, sliding her hands into his hair. 

“I knew I couldn’t lose.” Rowan smiled. “And I really, really wanted to see your face when you lost. You considered running, didn’t you?”

“Shut up,” she laughed, leaning down to kiss him again. 

His hands found the zipper on the back of her dress, and she pulled it over her head unceremoniously. 

His eyes looked like emeralds as he took in everything about her in that serious, methodical way of his. “You’re beautiful.”

Her hands were on his chest, struggling with the buttons of his shirt. “I’m trying to see if you are, too, but your shirt’s putting up a fight.”

Rowan rolled his eyes, pushing away her hands and making quick work of the fabric. 

Smooth muscle, tinted with the lines of ink that ran down his neck, chest, and toned waist. “I like your tattoo.”

He shifted underneath her to lie down fully, then gripped her thighs and pulled her up his chest. “Sit on it, then.” (AN: I LITERALLY SPEWED WRITING THIS)

Aelin laughed but sure as hell didn’t fight as he lifted her up, settling on his tan shoulders. 

And she sure as hell didn’t argue as he tugged her underwear to the side. 

With his teeth. 

He pressed a kiss to her skin, and she grabbed the headboard to keep herself still. His hands gripped her hips, guiding her in a circle, and his tongue ran up her core. 

She looked down, saw his tattoo half-obscured by her thigh, and almost came at the sight alone. One of her hands drifted to run through his hair, stark against the tan of her skin.

A moan escaped her, and he smiled against her skin. 

His mouth kept moving under her, and soon even his hands on her hips couldn’t keep her still. She pressed a hand over her mouth to keep quiet, mindful they probably had neighbors. 

But when his teeth grazed her, tongue diving deep, she let out a long groan as release found her. 

His eyes peeked up at her, and she could tell he was quite happy with himself. 

“Oh, shut up,” she muttered.

Laughter bubbled out of him against her thigh, then he gripped her waist, lifted her, and fucking threw her on the end of the bed. Before she could react, he was braced over her, their mouths fused together. 

Aelin could taste herself on his lips, and it messed with her mind in the best way. Her hands found their way between them to undo his belt and button, then she finally had him in her hands.

Rowan braced himself on his elbows, a serious, very concentrated look on his face as she stroked him and kissed his neck, right over that damned tattoo.

She ran her thumb over the tip, and he jerked involuntarily. Then growled at her and knocked her hands to the side.

His hips pressed into her, and Aelin’s back arched as he pushed into her with a muffled grunt.

Hell, even the sounds this man made turned her on.

Settled against her, he paused to give her a few moments, and she stared at the ceiling, mind and body adjusting to the full feeling coursing through her.

A hand gripped her chin, and her eyes met his. She nodded. 

He started to move, and that, coupled with the piercing eye contact, was almost too much for her. But she still wanted more.

He was still gripping her chin; Aelin took his wrist and moved it to her throat. 

“Fuck, Aelin,” he murmured, picking up the pace. His hand contracted lightly and all the blood rushed through her like lightening. 

She moaned, and his lips came down to hers to mask the sound. 

It was hopeless, though, because her body was reacting to Rowan’s like it had never with anyone else. His tongue was in her mouth as he swirled his hips, and she whimpered onto his mouth. 

She only got louder as things progressed, especially as he moved his mouth to her ear, nibbling on it and pulling it with his teeth. One hand still at her neck, he used the other to lift her hip, going deeper. 

Aelin opened her eyes, thrilled to see the strain on his face and know he was just as affected by this. 

He sucked on her neck, and she moaned his name. 

“You drive me fucking crazy,” he muttered in between kisses, and she smiled. 

Then saw stars as he squeezed her throat again. 

Her body went rigid and loose at the same time as she climaxed, contracting around Rowan and yanking him over the edge with her. He kept slowly moving, both of them riding out the high. 

Then he stilled and lowered himself down, his weight pressing her down, their skin melded together. 

“Holy shit,” she breathed, hands coming to play with his hair as he rested his head on her chest. 

He made a happy, contented sound deep in his throat, and her heart almost exploded in her chest. Big baby. 

Aelin wrapped her legs and arms around him, cocooning him with her body. 

Even though she hadn’t won any money tonight and would have to work for a few weeks to pay off her debts, she wasn’t even worried about it. 

In fact, there weren’t any thoughts in her head except of the man on top of her.

And one burning question. 

She pulled his hair, forcing him to meet her eyes, and asked, “So, was it worth fifteen grand?”

He gave her that rare, genuine smile that made her breath halter. Then came to kiss her again and mutter, “I don’t know. I might need another go to tell for sure.”

Aelin rolled her eyes, all too happy to oblige him. 

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Thanks for reading. Some Malorian next? Who knows. 

@aesthetics-11 @b00kworm @bamchickawowow @hizqueen4life @savemesoon8 @musicmaam @sleeping-and-books @a-bit-of-a-cactus

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

Imagine

Reader and Erik take a bae-cation after Reader has her baby. She is having breast pains from breastfeeding so Erik suggests soothing her.

Warnings: Smut, Fluff, 

[Side note: Writing this made me so horny....]

Baby girl and her Baby Daddy decided to stay in a fancy hotel in Vegas for the weekend while her mom, Miss Pam, watched their handsome baby boy Omari. Omari was a 9lbs 10oz baby with a head full of shiny jet black curls, droopy cheeks, and fat arms and legs that reminded you of the michelin tire man. Erik made her put in a two week notice with her job in medical billing and coding because he wanted her to be home with their son. He had enough money to take care of all three of them. Y/N didn’t like that at first but she eventually agreed to it. She was actually very happy that she did. Taking this bae-cation with Erik for the weekend was already hard since she couldn’t be near her son. Currently, Y/N and Erik decided to hit up the casino so Erik could play his blackjack. He’s so good at it that he played in a few tournaments and won a lot of money. He was known in that casino for his skills. Y/N knew he was going to win every game so she went off on her own to play at the slot machines. Erik has all the luck while Y/N doesn’t. She lost every game at those slots.

“Fuck this, bruh,” She got up from the cramped seat, adjusting her denim skirt, “This is some bullshit. Let me go get Baby Daddy because I’m hungry for some wings.”

Y/N began to walk away but an elderly lady that was seated next to her kindly taps her on the shoulder. Y/N smiles at the woman before approaching her chair.

“Sugar, did you recently have a little one?” She asks in a smooth tone that reminded her of her grandmother.

“Yes, ma’am,” Y/N smiles with her dimples, “A boy, his name is Omari.”

“I bet he is very handsome. I’m only asking because,” The Elserly woman lowered her voice to almost a mumble. She didn’t need to, the casino was very loud, “You look to be leaking from your breasts-“

“OH MY GOSH,” Y/N began to panic, covering her aching breasts, “Is it bad?!”

“Sweetheart, calm down,” The elderly lady laughs lightly, “It’s alright baby, it happens, do you have a jacket?”

“I do,” Y/N left it with Erik, “It’s with my boyfriend.”

“Where is he located?” The elderly lady got up from her seat, standing at about 4ft.

“One of the blackjack tables,” Y/N takes the elderly ladies offered hand.

“Let’s go find him and get your jacket-“

“You don’t have to ma’am, honestly-“

“No, but I insist,” She was persistent just like her nana,” “Come on sugar, I’d like to meet this young man.”

———————-

Once again, Erik wins. He ignored the jealous and vengeful looks from the other men whose whores huddled around them with their arms draped over their shoulders. The Experienced Table Games Dealer gathers all of Erik’s winnings, instructing him to take it to the Cashier. With his winnings stored away, Erik grabs Y/N’s jacket, ready to head for the slot machines but he spots her with a little old lady dressed in outrageous floral patterned clothing. She was hugging the front of her breasts with one arm while the other was being held by the little old woman. Confused, Erik walks you to them, giving Y/N and the elderly lady a smile.

“What’s going on here? How are you doing,” Erik held his hand out for the elderly lady to shake, “I’m Erik.”

“Dorothy,” She spoke with kindness that warmed Erik’s heart, “So this is the handsome father of your son Omari?”

“Yes” Y/N smiles, “This is him. Did you win, baby?”

“You know I did,” Erik held up his winnings, “I was just about to come get you so we can cash this out and get something to eat. So, what’s going on?”

“You’re lovely lady here had a bit of an accident,” The elderly lady discretely points to Y/N’s breasts, “I noticed at the slot machines and decided to walk over with her. She needs a jacket, young man.”

Erik’s eyes traveled towards Y/N’s arm draped over her breasts, “Baby, you didn’t put the pads in like I reminded you to?”

“I did.”

“Okay,” Erik places his winnings on his seat, grabbing Y/N’s jacket, and helping her put it on whole his chest was close to hers so no one would see, “Thank you Miss Dorothy-“

“Yes, thank you so much, you didn’t have to do this for me at all,” Y/N hugs Miss Dorothy close, “You are so sweet Miss Dorothy.”

“Anytime sweetie,” Miss Dorothy squeezes Erik’s hand, “Take care of her, handsome? She’s a good one I can tell.”

“Oh, I know, I got her, Miss Dorothy,” Erik gave her a charming smile filled with dimples and shiny teeth with a little gold, “You take care of yourself, okay?”

“I will! I need to head back to my friends before the bus leaves,” Miss Dorothy waves one final goodbye, “Tell Omari that Miss Dorothy says hello!”

“We will!” Y/N waves before turning back to Erik, “she’s such a sweet lady, baby.”

“She is,” Erik rubs Y/N’s shoulder, “Let’s get back to the room so you can change.”

Erik wraps his arm around Y/N’s shoulder as they walked to the Cashier so he could cash in his winnings before heading to the hotel.

——————————

“That’s a lot of winnings, baby.”

Y/N watches Erik handle all the money, 10 thousand dollars of it.

“I could have won more but those motherfuckers needed a break from the ass whipping I gave em’.”

Y/N was standing in front of a wall length mirror near their hotel closet. She was currently adding the padding to her nipples to help absorb the milk that flowed from her heavy breasts.

“You need some help, Baby girl?” Erik spoke while stretched out on the bed, twirling a single dread, “You liked how I did it the last time.”

“Yes, please,” Y/N stops, looking through the mirror watching Erik get up from the bed, shirtless and sexy as he walks over to Y/N. Her large breasts still leaked a little so she grabs a rag to dab it gently. Erik stood over her short frame from behind, taking the pads in his hand, and reaching around to lift one of her generous breasts so he could have a good eye for where to place the pads.

“Ouch,” Y/N fusses when he lifted her breast, “Baby, they’re still sensitive...be gentle.”

“I’m sorry, love,” Erik loosened his hold, “Better?”

“Mhm,” She watched as her milk spilled onto Erik’s hand, “Erik, be quick! It’s leaking more.”

“Calm down, and relax,” Erik places the pads, “Now pass me some of that hospital tape.”

Y/N hands Erik some of the skin safe hospital tape.

“Thank you,” Erik accepts pieces of tape from Y/N while he placed them around the padding to keep it in place, “Okay, let me do the next one,” Erik looked over Y/N’s shoulder, slowly lifting her breast and watching as little droplets of milk spilled on his fingers. He adds the pads, quietly accepting the tape, and securing the pads. She was all finished.

“This is a lot better,” Y/N takes her bra from off of the ironing board that she used before they went to the casino, “Thanks, Daddy.”

“Anytime, love,” Erik kisses her jaw, “You wanna get something food?”

“Wings!” Y/N shouts.

“Okay,” Erik trailed his kisses to her neck, “You still smell like Omari.”

“I’ve been attached to his chunky butt for months now. I can’t get his smell off of me.”

Omari smelled like peaches and cream.

“Mmm,” Erik hums before backing away, he looks down at his fingers still wet with milk.

Erik sucks on his fingers before sitting back onto the bed. The taste was creamy and sweet on his tongue. Like custard. He licks his lips, thighs swaying back and forth on the bed because his dick was growing in his jeans. He’d never tasted Y/N’s breast milk. So this is what Omari was receiving all the time like a starving child? Erik already feels left out. Y/N’s breasts once played an important role in the sexual relationship that they both shared. Now that she is breastfeeding, Erik feels as though her breasts are off limits, or no longer a part of that sexual relationship. Erik feels that Y/N’s milk-filled breasts are now reserved for the relationship that she shares with Omari, and that's something he doesn’t feel part of. He just wanted to feel included and not jealous Everytime he looked his son in his grey eyes while he sucked on his mama.

“After we eat, can we swim?” Y/N missed going to the beach and the pool.

“Yeah, Thats fine with me, baby, anything for you.”

—————————

Y/N had Erik’s attention while they sat in Hooters eating. Her breasts were resting on the table since she had to lean over to eat her wings. Erik could see why she was sensitive and in pain. Deep veins could be seen peeking through her skin. They were engorged more than he remembered them to be. Over abundant with milk supply. He wasn’t drooling from the siracha wings he was munching on. He was drooling because he wanted to taste her sugary milk again. It reminded him of the milk after eating a bowl of sweetened cereal for breakfast.

“What?” Y/N couldn’t ignore Erik’s eyes as they watched her, “Do I have blue cheese on my face or something?”

“Nah, You’re just beautiful that’s all. What? I can’t stare at my baby, hm?”

Y/N blushes, “You can, Daddy. I like it when you look at me.”

“You should have worn a different shirt,” Erik’s eyes traveled down to her cleavage poking through her shirt, “You know them breasts got bigger they can’t fit in your shirts like they used to.”

“Why do you think I wear all your t-shirts? I have to go shopping again.”

“I should beat your ass for showing off like that,” Erik smirks while chewing.

“They’re yours so why does it matter?”

Erik leans forward on the table, “Because, I don’t wanna have to gauge a niggas eyes out for looking.”

“Daddy, don’t be violent,” Y/N spoke in a sweet voice.

“You make me more violent when you dress like that.”

Y/N sat back in her chair, straightening her back causing her breasts to poke out more. Erik had a few things in mind that he could do to those breasts. Take his hard dick, some body oil, and her big ass titties, squeeze his dick between and coat it with the oil so he could fuck her titties. Then there was the desire to be breast fed. Erik is so turned on by Y/N’s lactating and sore breasts. He couldn’t ignore the sexual fantasy that involves breastfeeding. Erotic lactation and adult breastfeeding was a new kink of his. He wanted to take Omari’s place and suck on Y/N’s breasts while she ran her fingers through his hair and whispered things like:

There you go, baby, that’s it, suck on mamas breasts.

Do you want some more? You’re so greedy.

Look how much of my milk comes out! You make me lactate more, I love that.

If she could say things like:

Daddy, the more you suck, the more my titties will milk and it’s already too much.

It may hurt when you suck on them...you suck harder than Omari...they’re so sensitive.

Daddy...Omari needs some milk too. You can’t be stingy like that...

His dick was iron hard. Erik wanted to unbutton and unzip his pants so his dick could sprang free. All the blood in his body felt like it rushed to his dick. If he squeezed it, there would be resistance for sure, his dick feeling like a pipe covered in flesh.

“Are you not hungry anymore?” Y/N grabs a siracha wing for herself, “You usually eat everything. Something must be on your mind.”

“I’m just thinking about going back to that hotel with you. You need to take care of something for me.”

“And what’s that?” Y/N looked up through her lashes at him.

“You’ll see. Let’s take this shit to go.” Erik looked around before spotting their waiter, a pretty brown-skinned girl with a bright red weave, motioning for her to come over.

“Anything else for you guys?”

“Nah, can we have some to-go boxes?” Erik pulled out his wallet.

“Sure! I’ll be back,” She walked away with a sway of her thick hips.

“Can we still go swimming?” Y/N asks while eating one more fry.

“Yeah, but not for long though.” Erik wanted to rip that top she had on right down the middle, pull down the cups of her bra, snatch those pads off, and go to town on her nipples. He imagined himself thrashing his tongue before sucking softly. He envisioned her milk dripping down the sides of his mouth and to his chin.

“What’s taking her so damn long? I only asked for boxes not another fucking meal,” Erik complained.

“Why are you acting like that? She’s coming,” Y/N rolls her eyes before throwing a French fry at his chest, “Big meany.”

The Big Meany in my pants is suffering, Erik thought.

“Finally,” Erik spoke with exhaustion as he spots their waiter walking over with a few bags and to-go containers.

“Thanks, girl,” Y/N accepts it.

“No dessert?” The waiter looked at Y/N and Erik expectantly.

“Nope-“

“Can I have a slice of cheesecake, please?”

Erik’s jaw tightened.

“Sure! Just the one?”

“Make it two. He likes the Oreo cookie one. I’ll take the original with extra whipped cream.”

“Okay, I’ll be right back.”

Erik wanted to fuss but he knew he would want that cheesecake later.

“Pick your lip up, Daddy, your pouting,” Y/N giggles, “You must be horny.”

“I am,” Erik shakes his head at her, “It’s your fucking fault.”

“Aww, I’m so sorry, Daddy.”

Erik’s mean mug made Y/N explode with laughter, her breasts smushing into the edge of the table. She winced, little whimpers escaping her mouth while she cuffed her breasts.

“They are so damn sore,” Y/N complains, “I just want to take this bra off and let my titties free.”

“Shit,” Erik spoke, “They that filled up, huh?”

“Yes. Omari will have a lot from me when we get home.”

Me too, he thought.

————————-

They pool was empty enough for both of them to enjoy but Erik was too busy watching Y/N swim back and forth. She made Erik take a few pictures of her in her swimsuit for her instagram since she’s a famous plus size Youtuber. She does clothing halls, hair, and makeup. They had been down there for only 40 minutes but it felt like five hours.

“Baby,” Erik called out to her, watching her float with her breasts poked out.

“Why aren’t you swimming?!” Y/N splashed him, “You are a party pooper.”

“Because Daddy is horny and he need you to take care of him right now.”

Y/N swam to the pool ladder, climbing out, water dripping from her body. She walked over to Erik, grabbing their towels.

“Let’s go then. You’re lucky I want some dick.”

Erik stood up, grabbing the towel from her, “You we’re gonna give me some puss either way so don’t say that.”

They made their way back to the room, Y/N keying in, flicking on only the hallway light while everything else was dark. This was the only light they really needed. Erik grabs their towels, tossing them in a wrinkled pile in the corner near the door, and wrapping his arms around Y/N’s waist. She giggles, one hand coming up to cup his cheek.

“You feel so good on Daddy’s dick, baby,” Erik murmured, “Touch Daddy’s dick so you can see what I’m talking about.”

Y/N reached behind her, a gasp escaping her mouth when her fingers ran up the length of him.

“That’s all for you...this dick is what nutted in that phat pussy...got all my nut in there...and look at you, gave birth to my son. He made you look even more sexier than you already were. Thicker...ass phatter, titties bigger,” Erik grinds his hips onto her ass, “These big ass titties filled with all that food for my son...Omari probably miss his mama titty in his mouth.”

“Damn, Daddy,” Y/N was super wet, “You’re nasty self.”

“Too bad I got mama all weekend. Now both titties gon’ be in my mouth.”

“Jealous?” Y/N teased.

“Fuck yeah. Daddy is jealous, baby. Omari gets all the milk and sucking while I get nothing? Ain’t fair, baby.”

“Erik...Daddy...you want some of my milk?” She was astonished.

“It taste so good.” Erik French kisses her neck, “so sweet. I liked it off my fingers earlier. Mmm, yummy.”

She could feel herself lactate.

“You gon’ let that milk drip on my tongue?”

“Fuck,” Y/N whimpers.

“Can mama breast feed me too?” The way he asked that caused Y/N’s nipples to harden.

Y/N thought about all the benefits to Erik sucking on her titties while she breast feeds him. Y/N is so sensitive to breast or nipple stimulation and she can’t help but to experience sexual feelings while breastfeeding. Breastfeeding Erik could bring about an unexpected and enjoyable aspect to their sexual relationship. Then there was the factor that the additional stimulation and removal of milk at T/N’s breast can naturally trigger her body to make more breast milk. Erik would have a much stronger suck than Omari and he could help drain her more and prevent the pain she feels.

“Yes...I’m in a lot of pain when it’s so heavy and I can’t drain them since I’m not home,” Y/N’s eyelids fluttered shut, “I can breast feed you, Daddy, but you have to be careful, okay?”

Erik grunts, his eyes in slits while he removed Y/N’s swimsuit top, “I promise I’ll take real good care of you. Damn, I just want it so bad. My dick is so hard, baby, fuck, can you suck it for me?”

Y/N didn’t say a word as she turns around, getting in her knees, pulling Erik’s trunks down. His dick was indeed hard. Deep veins fat with blood under the brown skin of his dick. The tip of his thickness so swollen and purpled from all the blood. Balls tight like he was ready to cum. Dick thicker and longer since the sight of her on her knees turned him on. He just wanted it sucked so damn bad.

“Come on, ma,” Erik grabs the back of her head, “You taking to long for me.”

Y/N wraps her lips around him, Erik’s head falling back. His ass clenched when her lips went back and forth tightly on his dick.

“Fuck fuck FUCK.” He held her head in place so she wouldn’t move away.

“Mmm,” She moaned with his dick deep in her mouth.

“I’m so fucking hard,” He hisses, “Suck it like that, baby, fuck.”

She had him seeing stars.

“Keep sucking on me and watch how much cum I make you swallow you nasty bitch.”

Y/N went faster.

“Oh? Oh yeah? Hmph, yeah?”

She slurped and gurgled around him.

“SHIT.” Erik could feel himself ready to erupt, “Fucking yes, baby, mmmm, please Daddy, yessssss, Mhm, fuck!”

Y/N’s nose pressed into Erik’s groomed pubic hair while he explodes down her throat. Erik pulls his dick out slowly, his eyes staring down at his shiny it is and still very very hard.

“Let me suck on you. I’m hungry.”

Y/N got up from the floor, Erik grabbing her neck to kiss her. She sucked on his bottom lip, earning a smack to her ass.

“Get in the bed right fucking now.”

Y/N went to lay on the bed, her breasts splayed out for him and him only. Erik walked up to her, crawling in the bed to rest between her legs. He gently removed the pads and tape from her nipples. Once she was free, he could already see her milk spilling. It rolled down the sides of her breasts since the fell off to the sides from being so damn heavy. Erik picks her left breast up, Y/N whimpering.

“Daddy, please be gentle.”

“I promise, I promise,” Erik took in a deep breath before opening his mouth, his tongue dragging over her entire areola and nipple. Y/N moans, her eyes closing while her chest pushed further into his mouth.

“So sweet and tastes yummy, girl,” Erik sucked, “fuck, yes.”

Y/N could not stare at the erotic sight, watching Erik’s full lips suck on her sensitive nipple and his thick tongue drag over it so desperately made her reach between her legs to rub her clit.

“Daddy, you’re making them feel better,” She bites her bottom lip, “Umph, Daddy that feels so good.”

Her soft spoken voice and the taste of her milk had Erik’s dick leaking with precum.

“Daddy...please...suck on me,” Y/N moves his head so he can show the other breast some attention.

“I got you, baby girl,” He gave her the same pleasant torture that had her pussy dripping to the bed.

“Mmm, My pussy is so wet,” She licks her lips while watching Erik lightly suck on her, “Daddy, my pussy is so wet.”

“You want me to put my dick in you, huh?”

“Please,” Y/N’s legs went wider.

“If I do that I’m cumming in you deep. I want that puss messy. Gon’ have all my cum swimming in there fucking around with me. You want this dick I’m impregnating your fine ass again.”

“Yes!” Y/N could feel Erik’s dick spread her pussy lips. Her hand left her clit, both of them cumming up to grip his shoulders.

“Remember how I got that ass knocked up? I fucked the pussy just like this didn’t I? And you still remember to keep them legs wide for Daddy, mm, girl.”

His dick slid into her tightness. Pussy still tight even after pushing out a 9lb baby.

“Ooooo, this shit is super wet,” Erik looked down at his dick, “you making a big mess on Daddy,” His lips went back to her titties like they never left, “Make a big mess in Daddy’s mouth too with all this milk.”

Erik moved his tongue over her nipples so good her body shivered, that didn’t include the way he beat her walls up. He was up in a push-up position with all his strength as his dick drilled in and out. He was fucking her pussy so hard that Y/N felt her body bouncing. He was really horny for her. She could do nothing but moan and gasp while Erik sat up with a milk covered chin. He used his hands to hold the back of her thighs while his dick went in and out...in and out with just the power of his hips. Y/N’s toes curled. She could see her breasts lactate while Erik fucked her.

“I’m fucking that pussy, baby?”

He had the nerve.

“Look at you, creaming on me,” Erik swiveled his hips inside of her, “And I feel that pussy, cum on me while I bust this phat pussy open!”

He seemed to go faster and faster each time. His dick was damn near a blur. Y/N pushed at his chest, her eyes shutting and mouth unhinged as she squirted and orgasmed on his dick. Her lungs burned with the deep breath she took. He was still going, another orgasm hitting her suddenly. She thought her pussy wouldn’t be able to work like this again after pushing out Omari but boy, was she wrong.

Erik sucked on her breasts before licking milk from his lips, “You just keep leaking. My dick is deep in here, baby, and my balls ready to empty all my nut in this phat puss.”

“Fuck, Daddy, fuck,” Y/N’s thighs shook, “Daddy, I love the way you suck on my nipples...I love the way you fuck me.”

“You beautiful, bitch,” Erik was cumming, “I’m forever gon’ be your Baby Daddy. Have all my kids. Give me all the milk I can have.”

“Yes! Yes!”

He growled, his nails sinking into her thighs, Y/N’s hips lifting off the bed. Erik’s dick made her pussy spread wider because of how thick he gets when he is about to cum. Like a present, Erik gifted his Baby Girl with more of his seed. He still stroked and Y/N could feel just how thick and veiny he is because of her wet pussy and all his cum. She could even feel the shape of the head of his dick as he slowly stroked her phat cunt to empty all of him. He was so textured and big. Her eyes rolled shut, Erik not helping by leaning forward to suck on her nipples. His dick made her pussy jump around him. Y/N pouts, pushing at Erik. He didn’t move. He still slow stroked.

“Don’t push me again,” He spoke through clenched teeth.

“Daddy, my pussy can’t take no more.”

“You gon’ take me. Got these big ass titties spilling milk and this pussy creaming. Ain’t no way Daddy finished with you. Just wait, watch how you end up pregnant.”

Y/N was in for a long ass night.

@tgigoldie​ @soufcakmistress​ @chefjessypooh​ @chaneajoyyy​ @pananegra​ @theblulife​ @becincere​ @blaqwidow91​ @fish-outta-watah​ @eyeknowmywrites​  @crowngold​ @njadakillthiscookie​ @blktinkerbell​ @luvanxi​ @sheisexcellent1​ @chocolatedippedinhoney​ @brandithecrystalgem​ @dababydababydababydababy​ @soulfulbeauty19​ @raysunshine78​ @btitannaaa​ @sunkissedebony97​ @youngblackndgifted​ @harleycativy​ @rbhp​ @thee-germanpeach​ @thadelightfulone​ @palmstreesallday​ @skylahb​ @bakaris-shorty​ @nizzle-mo​ @truglori​ @queenflaws​ @ljstraightnochaser​ @theegoldenchild​ @scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade​ @nickidub718​ @vikkidc​ @thehomierobbstark​ @rent-emspoons​ @abluesforlyssa​ @abeautifulmindexposed​ @fd-writes​ @chasingsunlight​ @sickaddiktions​ @munteanhore​ @xo-goldengirl​ @tiava143​ @33kiara​ @honeytoffee​ @asiasblackworld727​ @informalmelancholy​ @soulshinechronicles​ @hearteyes-for-killmonger​ @goddessofthundathighs​ @soulfxll​ @whazzzupmyhitta​

[maybe-your-left]

A Case In Need: Control Freak

Here is a link to my Masterlist that has all the chapters and my WIP! 

TW/CW: NSFW, allusions to violence, drinking, and some breath play! Ren’s a nasty boy and FUCK is it good. 

Also super sorry about it being a while since I updated, I just started some new anti depressants and they threw me for a loop but I'm back on track now and feeling better than ever.

  It had been two weeks since Ren had bought you your ‘gifts’. 

Scratch that. 

Two weeks since a giant monster of a man had removed you from your home, took away your valuables, hid your favorite blanket somewhere, he wouldn’t say where, and gave you a full swat team of bodyguards whenever you were out of his sight. Two full fucking weeks since he started keeping tabs on where you were, what you were doing, and who you were with. 

It was exhausting being his ‘lover’. If you could still be classified as that, it was starting to feel like a hostage situation, whenever the two of you weren’t in the office together he would send you texts or phone calls that you were required to answer. He had even gotten a spare cell phone to call you from so it was separate from his personal calls, and you presumed to keep Rey oblivious. Which oddly enough had been working, she had really no idea what was going on. She would visit him at work throughout the day and give him a small kiss on the cheek and always insisted on hugging you before leaving. At some point, she must’ve hounded him for your phone number because now here you were meeting her for lunch hours after Ren left your, ‘our’ as he liked to call it, apartment. 

Before he left he had laid out an outfit for you to wear along with an outline of talking points you were ‘allowed’ to bring up with her during the lunch. You had rolled your eyes at him and ensured that you weren’t going to reveal anything to her, you didn’t really want your relationship with Ren to end. You just were getting tired of the short leash he kept you on. After getting dressed, and inspected by Ren, he had pulled you into a long slow kiss and whispered in your ear, “I’ll miss you Angel,” and then he was gone. 

Huffing you messed with your hair a little more and straightened out the dress he had chosen for you. Even though he was being a psychopath for control you were surprised to see that he was being generous in the gifts he bought you. The day after moving Ren had taken you to a couture mall in Manhattan and lavished you with thousands of dollars worth of clothes, jewelry, and home goods. He had insisted on keeping the house in a monotone color scheme but he did budge on your wardrobe, he knew that you liked having some pops of color and truth be told you noticed that he enjoyed, a little too much, the baby pink sets you chose at the lingerie stores. He had even gone so far to get you a custom made necklace* that was engraved with his initials, with a ruby inlay, that he wanted you to wear all the time. 

Grabbing your purse and slipping on your black strappy heels you heard your phone go off. You searched your purse for the damned contraption, even though it was a small bag it was almost like a Mary Poppins never-ending abyss when you threw things in it. Jingling out your keys you locked the front door and made it down the steps and finally snatched out the phone. 

Vicrul and Ushar will be escorting you today. Don’t be difficult with them or you’ll be in trouble. 

Ugh, he was never going to let you live that down. You stood outside and waited for their black SUV to pull up while you contemplated messaging him back. You didn’t really feel the need to be escorted to lunch with Rey, wouldn’t she think it’s weird that her husband’s men were driving you? Did she get escorted like that with the other beastie boys? It’s not like you weren’t fond of them, truth be told you liked the guys, they were always posted outside your house when Ren was gone. Usually, it was Ushar who took care of you unless it was a super public gathering then one of the other men would join in. But it had been a while since Vircul had watched you, the last time Ren had let them take you to a spa to get your nails and hair done and you had been in a bratty mood. One thing had led to another and it ended with you screaming that you were being ‘attacked’ because the men would not fucking stop hovering. The spa did not think it was funny however and Ren had to bribe the police officers who were 100% ready to arrest Vicrul because he was pinning you to the salon chair. 

The black SUV slinked up to the sidewalk and out of the passenger side came Ushar. “Hello Miss (Y/N),” he opened the back door for you, “Confirming that you are headed to lunch with Lady Ren?”. 

“Yes Ushar,” you rolled your eyes behind your sunglasses, “He already said I could go.” The men always did this with you, whenever he was gone they would double, even triple-check that you knew where you were going and any special instructions Ren had laid out for you. It was almost like you were a child stuck in the middle of a custody battle, each side was trying to make sure you knew all the rules and what you were allowed to say or do, it was getting really old. 

“Hi Vic,” you cooed trying to get a rise out of him, “It’s been a while hasn’t it?” 

Vicrul let out a low chuckle, “Not long enough Angel, not long enough.” 

You hummed back at him and settled in so they could whisk you away to probably the worst lunch of your life. You decided to play nice and shoot Ren a text to let him know you were with the guys, but you also wanted to push his buttons. 

Don’t worry Daddy. I’ll play nice.

The drive took a little over fifteen minutes, Vicrul parked up front and Ushar quickly opened your door and held his elbow out for you to take. You grabbed it, thankful for the support since you weren’t sure what to expect. The two of you began into the large building, with Vic jogging up close behind. Climbing into the elevator you noticed the other patrons were scooting away from you. Being as you were a small woman being flanked by two men who looked like they wrestled bears for a living, it was a natural response. Most people had hopped off before you hit the rooftop for your ‘date’. 

Stepping out you scanned the area and immediately noticed another hulking group of men in pitch black suits. Ahh, so the others are here too, of course, Rey would have her own guards. You let the guys lead the way and soon you were a group of six men hovering by the hostess stand. Looking around you couldn’t find Rey, she wasn’t any smaller than you, she hadn't gotten far especially with four guys flanking her…

“Ugh there you are!” she squealed before pulling you into a tight hug, effectively pinning your arms to your sides. “I thought you got lost, Kylo told me he sent the Knights to come get you but I was so afraid you stood me up!” 

“The Knights,” you whispered, still in her boney clutches. 

“Yes, the Knights,” she released you and grabbed your hands in hers, “They are the bodyguards we use!”

Oh. The Knights. That’s what Ren called them, well it made sense, they were fucking huge and seemed like they did anything for their ‘master’. 

“Are you ready to eat? I got us a lovely table out on the balcony,” Rey smiled at you. 

“Oh yes, of course,” you tried to match her enthusiasm, “Let’s go.” 

----- 

After the two of you were seated the Knights had flanked you both on your sides, leaving about a 6-foot circle for the waiter and other servers to talk to you. 

“So (Y/N),” Rey grinned at you, “How are you liking work? Kylo says you’re doing an excellent job.” 

You blushed, “Oh thank you, he’s never mentioned that.” 

“Oh, that’s just because he’s bad at giving affection, we’ve been married for almost 10 years and he still rarely says ‘I love you”,” she giggled and started drinking her cosmo. What an awkward turn this lunch had gone, and right at the fucking beginning. It didn’t shock you that Ren was weird with affection and compliments in front of people but you assumed that after ten years he would at least show something toward Rey. Your heart sank, what if he never returned feelings to you? You had been seeing each other for almost a month, and even though you knew it was wrong, you had started feeling ‘feelings’ for him. The PDA was okay, you weren’t a huge fan of it, but even at the mall he had held your hand and kissed your forehead when you found something he liked. It was strange and new for you, and being told that he wasn’t like that with his wife made you ill. 

“Let’s talk about something else,” you spit out, “Sorry, it’s just I’m at work all week so maybe we talk about something different?” 

“Oh of course,” she took another swig of her drink, “I can’t tell you the last time I hung out with a girlfriend.” another drink, “Probably since before I got married!” 

“What?” 

“It’s true,” she sighed. 

“What do you do all day then?” 

“This and that,” she motioned for the waiter to get her another, “Usually I go and play tennis at the country clubs, join in at the book club I’m a part of, you know domestic things.” She looked almost sad, you wondered if Ren was the reason she had nothing to do, or maybe she was just that boring. 

“Well,” you tried to soothe her, “What do you like to do?” 

She inhaled deeply and looked out at the skyline, “I really enjoyed being in school. Learning, reading, doing something. But I don’t anymore, women in my situation aren’t expected to have those kinds of hobbies.” 

“Situation?” 

“You know,” she looked back at you and dabbed her lash line, “Being married to a powerful man, I’m expected to hold a certain standard.” She sniffled and you resisted the urge to reach across the table until one single rule from the outline stood out in your mind, ‘Under no circumstance are you to soothe her, she is dramatic at times and I don’t need you falling into a trap’. 

A server thankfully interrupted your pity party, leaving your dishes and a quick message about ‘if you need anything else just call’. Rey had seemed to reign herself back in and turned back to you with her trademark smile. 

“What about you?” 

“Oh um,” you paused to bite into your salad, “I don’t really do much. I usually go out to bars and stuff on weekends. Or my friends and I have wine and cheese nights!” You smiled at her, it had been about two weeks since your last meeting. Finn and Rose were super confused when you told them you moved but you convinced them that with your new salary you could afford some new things. You actually were supposed to meet them in a couple of days at your new apartment for drinking. 

“Ugh that sounds so fun,” Rey almost screamed, maybe she was drinking too much. You weren’t sure what her tolerance was but you were sure that Ren probably monitored her drinking. “I used to do that in college with one of my friends.” 

“Oh? Where did you go to college?” 

“The same one as you!” she squealed, “Sorry, I saw on your resume where you went to school. I’m pretty sure we were in the same class.” 

“Oh no shit,” you giggled back at her, you tried to remember if you knew her. The only people you hung around were Finn and Rose, sometimes Poe who had moved across the country after graduating. He was the ambitious one out of the group, he had joined the Air Force before school and became a pilot. 

Rey started giggling uncontrollably, you could feel the Knights start to shift towards her. Especially Vicrul who seemed to be keeping a very sharp eye on her. “Yeah, we both used to hang out with Rose,” she said over her glass. 

You froze. Rose? Your Rose? How did she know her? You were sure Rose didn’t know Rey, and if she had wouldn’t you have known Rey too. Now all the Knights were closing in on you two, you could feel the mood shifting to a topic Ren probably didn’t want you to have. “How… How do you know Rose?” 

“Oh, it was way back when,” she flung her hand out to somehow calm you, “back when I was hooking up with this guy Finn.” 

“I think that’s enough Lady Ren,” Vicrul grunted while reaching for her drink. 

“Hey,” she shouted, “I’m a grown woman Vic. I can drink whatever I want!” She was starting to cause a scene, you turned and noticed other patrons looking your way. And what a sight it was, little Rey holding a half drank cosmo as high as she could away from the Knights. 

Vicrul got closer to her and almost growled, “Don’t make me call him.” 

Rey narrowed her eyes, “Do it, pussy.” 

And then all hell broke loose, Rey had launched from the table, effectively throwing her drink on Vicrul. In her haste she had also thrown the food all over you, your pretty new dress now soiled by the salmon salad you ordered. Ushar had rushed to your side and grabbed you by the shoulders and was attempting to pull you from the scene. But you couldn’t just sit and watch, Rey was sobbing and screaming at Vircul to let go of her, even going as far to bite his arm that corralled her to his chest. You couldn’t help but cry too, this poor woman, she was truly a prisoner. She had so many friends at some point, maybe even was your friend, and then she was thrown into a world she didn’t seem to enjoy with a husband who only cared about her appearance. 

Suddenly everything stopped, the Knights were silent and lined up by the table, aside from Ushar and Vicrul. You swallowed your tears and you heard footsteps. Slow and methodical steps coming towards you. Waves of dread began to fill your stomach while the aura of danger was licking between your legs. You cowered into Ushar’s chest, you didn’t want to see him, didn’t want to be at the end of his wrath. 

“How strange it is,” he boomed from your left side, “that here, in our favorite restaurant, you decide to make a scene.” He stalked towards Rey, slow steps, each one growing louder than the last. He had his hands clasped behind his back and although you couldn’t see his face you knew that it was tense. You could practically hear his jaw popping in and out of place. He cracked his knuckles before bringing his hands up to his neck. “I expected more from you,” he spat out and began to crack his neck. Each pop was like a nail in Rey’s coffin, you couldn’t help the little whimper that rose from your throat which caught his attention. 

Ren whipped around and was in front of you instantly. His fists clenched at his sides and his breathing shallow. He was waiting for you to meet his gaze, almost taunting you to stare back. You gulped and squeezed your eyes shut. You didn’t want this. You didn’t want him to blame you, if he would just calm down you could explain what she had said, no one had told you that she got so emotional when she had cocktails. It wasn’t in the outline briefing he had given you this morning. So really it was his fault. 

“Take her away,” he snarled at Ushar, who suddenly picked you up and rushed you out of the restaurant. Peeking over his shoulder you witnessed Ren closing in on Rey. When the elevator doors shut you hoped that the pained screaming you heard wasn’t what you thought they were. 

The drive back was silent. Neither you nor Ushar said a word. You barely remembered to breathe, you were petrified. How could lunch have gone so wrong so fast? You just wanted to get to know her, get an understanding of who she was. You didn’t think she was going to launch into a speech about how much she hated her life. And what was the whole Finn and Rose thing about? Not once had they mentioned that they knew her, other than when Finn told you about the Ren incident. But you didn’t think that meant Rey and Finn hooked up in college. It was all too familiar and uncomfortable, you needed answers and unfortunately, there was only one person who could give them to you. 

-----

You waited. Paced, bit your nails in anticipation for him to come to you. He hadn’t told you this morning when he would be back, but he always would come around in the evening to drop off food and watch a movie with you. Or give you feedback on something at work, or fuck you on any surface he could find. But he never stayed too long, which should be normal, he did have a wife who would probably be suspicious if he was gone overnight. 

After about 5 hours you had decided that he wasn’t coming. So you stripped down and started a bath, throwing in a black glitter bath bomb that was supposed to help soothe the body and soul. After it was just the right temperature you grabbed a glass of wine and turned on some Netflix to drown out your wandering brain. Sinking in you enjoyed the stillness, you didn’t get this luxury at your old apartment and now you were being spoiled rotten with all these new features. Never in your wildest dreams did you think you could live somewhere like this, or wear the clothes that you had hanging in the closet. You hummed to yourself and started drinking and began to be lulled to sleep by the sounds of Fraiser coming from your laptop. 

You were pulled from your sleep to the sound of a door slamming shut. Followed by grunting which you assumed was someone taking off their shoes, and another series of slamming noises. Guess someone decided to pay you a visit, you groaned and drank some more of your wine, preparing for his royal asshole to grace you with his presence. 

You heard his footsteps coming up the stairs, your master bedroom doors swinging open and closed until the man, the myth, the legend, was now standing in your bathroom. Fully clothed aside from his shoes being gone. “Well hi,” you said to him. 

He grunted at you and made his way into ‘his closet’, which was filled with clothes of his own that he bought on your shopping trip. He reemerged completely naked with a black robe draped over his forearm. 

“Why is the water black,” he grumbled before swinging a leg across from you.

“What do you think you’re doing Ren?” 

“Don’t be difficult Angel. I’ve had a long fucking day,” he snapped at you, “Now is this water going to stain me, or am I good to get in?” he stared at you. His eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched like he was getting ready to attack his prey. You tried to keep your face neutral, not letting him know that you were still slightly scared of him after the display this afternoon. You slowly scrunched your legs to your chest as a nonverbal way of telling him he could join in. Once you moved he brought both legs in and sank into the tub. 

You both were very lucky that this was a large bath since Ren’s legs took up about 75% of the space in it, leaving you to stretch out on top of him. Your feet placed on his abs while he sunk lower and lower until his head was resting on the lip of the tub. 

“What’s in your glass,” he practically moaned at you with his eyes shut. He looked super uncomfortable but you could tell he was trying really hard to relax. Which seemed to never be his natural state. 

“It’s a Cab*, the one with the lion on it.” 

Ren snatched it out of your hand without even looking and chugged the rest of it. “We’re going to need more of that,” he rolled slightly to his right and pressed an intercom button. 

“Whoever the fuck is downstairs will you bring up the Juggernaut bottle,” he barked into the speaker. Assuming that one of the Knights was going to follow his order. Within minutes one of them came in and gave Ren the bottle which he immediately started chugging from. 

“Ren,” you reached out and pulled the bottle from him, “Are you going to tell me what the fuck happened earlier? Or are we just going to drink?” 

“Can we not do both?” 

You exhaled loudly, trying to get your point across that you needed to talk to him. He groaned and started rubbing his face. “I don’t know what you’re expecting from me. She is my wife and what we do in our personal lives is none of your business.” 

“Are you serious,” you snapped at him, “Ren I am fucking you. You’ve been calling the shots of my life for almost a month, you bought me an apartment, car and new clothes and made me go to lunch with her and now it’s none of my business?” 

He crossed his arms and looked away from you, trying to focus on your laptop even though it was paused from watching too many episodes. 

“Kylo,” you barked, “I’m fucking talking to you.” 

“Don’t you dare call me that,” he yelled, raising a finger at you. 

Bringing the bottle to your lips you waited for him to continue. Interesting that he allows Rey to call him that but not you, this was something you were going to have to explore. 

“Is it because you’re ashamed, Ren,” you cooed at him, “Ashamed that I saw how out of control she is. Or that I know you beat her.” 

Suddenly he was on top of you, his hands around your throat. Teeth snapping in your face like a wild dog. “Don’t you ever accuse me of that,” he seethed and released you enough so you could breathe again, “I’ve never laid a finger on her in my life. You don’t know anything about me little girl.” 

You had dropped the bottle in the tub, the red liquid pouring out and mixing into the black water. Almost like there had been blood spilled between the two of you. You grasped onto his forearms to try and anchor him off of you but were getting nowhere. “That’s hard to believe,” you gasped, “When you’re currently choking me to death.” 

“Oh Angel,” his face softened to a less dangerous one but more one of mischief, “That’s because I know you like it when I’m rough with you.” You inhaled sharply, and Ren pushed you up further against the tub. Effectively pinning you in place while his knees knocked yours to accommodate him. 

“Like right now,” he came closer to you, “I know that your pretty little cunt is sopping because of me. It’s okay to be afraid, I won’t hurt you.” One of his hands dropped into the water, “That much.” 

Suddenly he had you flipped around, on your knees with your chest and face pressed up against the end of the tub. Water sloshing between you two while he pressed his hips into yours. Revealing a once well-hidden erection that was now skimming your folds. He brought one hand down between your legs, lightly petting at you. Humming when he felt your arousal mixed with the water. You moaned and tried to press your hips back into him, desperate for friction. “No, no Angel, you’ve been a bad girl.” 

You froze and felt him line himself up at your entrance, usually he worked you open so it wouldn’t be so painful when he pushed into you, but it was clear that right now Ren wanted you to feel the pain. His other hand came up and gripped to your hair, successfully knotting it in his fist. 

“Tell me, Sweetheart, do you know how long you can hold your breath?” 

You craned your neck to try and look at him, you were obviously confused. 

“Let’s find out.” 

Ren pushed into you and suddenly you were dunked underwater. You thrashed and screamed under the black mess while he started pumping into you. Each thrust was harder than the last, he was determined to make you know how much he could hurt you. You tried to push yourself back up to the surface but he had you pinned, after what felt like hours he pulled you back up and you choked on the water. 

Gasping and gagging you started sobbing while Ren was laughing like the Joker. “I think we can do better than that,” and he had you under the water again, his pace far more crucial, he was chasing a high that he didn’t know he had. The amount of power he held over you now was unbearable. This man, who you had grown to like more and more, was now holding you hostage under the water and the sick part was that you didn’t want him to stop. 

He pulled you back up and pinned your face to the side and thrust in more and more, grunting and groaning at the clenching of your walls around his cock. The hand holding your hip hostage slid down and started rubbing tight circles around your clit causing you to moan. “That feels good doesn’t it Angel, I can feel you, you love it when I fuck you like this.” 

Gagging again you responded, “I do I love it, Ren, please don’t fucking stop.” 

“You want to cum don’t you,” he leaned to your ear and continued his brutal pace, “Cum all over my cock? Even though I almost drowned you?” 

You screamed as his circle grew faster and faster over your nub, you couldn’t help clenching around him. You felt so close to your orgasm, you just needed a little bit more. 

“Tell me you like it, Angel,” he huffed before stopping to take a bite out of your shoulder, “You like it when I control you. You need it don’t you dirty slut, someone to keep you in check.” 

“Yes Ren I love it, please please let me cum,” you begged him. 

“After you cum you’re going to thank me for everything I’ve done for you, do you understand whore? I own you. I own your mouth, your tight little cunt, even your thoughts.” 

You were bucking back into his thrusts, desperately chasing your release, “All yours Ren, please I need it.” 

He stilled his movements and turned your head to try and face him, “Take a deep breath and cum Angel.” 

And you did just that as he dunked you back under the water, pinning you flat against the bottom while his fingers rubbed your clit in sync with his cock. You were clenching and desperately trying to hold your breath until you felt him empty inside you. Hot sticky cum painted your insides as his grip on your loosened, you took the chance to lift out of the water and gasp for air while Ren slumped against you. His chest flush with your back while his cock was still squirting into your tired pussy. 

His arms came around you and pulled you up with him so now you were on top of him while he buried his face into your neck. Lazy and sloppy kisses were placed all over the crook of your neck up towards your jaw, his hands were slowly petting your breasts in a way to calm your breathing. Finally, he took in a deep breath and stood with you clutched to his chest. 

Treating you like you would porcelain he stepped out of the tub and turned to the shower, quickly rinsing the two of you off before leaning you against the wall. You couldn’t even move, your body went into fight or flight every time he shoved you under the water. You were so sure he was going to kill you, but each time he was sure to pull you back up and prepare you for the next blow. It was almost considerate, given the circumstances, that he even let you cum with him. You stared at the man who was washing both of your bodies of the glitter, wine, and cum. He looked so focused on piecing you back together even though he had been the one to break you in the first place. 

He shut the water off and stepped out, quickly drying himself off and getting in his robe before reaching his hand out for yours. 

“Come on Angel, you’re shivering,” he whispered to you, afraid to command you after what had happened. You grabbed his hand and walked out of the shower where he again dried you off and wrapped you in your black robe too. Once you were bundled he picked you up and you wrapped your arms and legs around him, desperate for him to stay with you. 

He brought you to the bedroom, pulling down the sheets with his right hand while still cradling you with his other. Bending over to place you down you squeezed him harder, “Please don’t go,” you whispered in his ear. 

“I’m not going anywhere (Y/N), not anymore.” 

You released him and watched him go back to the bathroom and shut off the lights before coming back and climbing into bed fully naked. Ren came up behind you and started to pull off your robe, kissing your bare skin when it came into contact with the room's cold air. 

“I promise (Y/N), never again” he cooed before pulling you into his embrace and the two of you were lulled to sleep. 

TAGLIST: @finn-ray-nal-beads​ @morby​ @kirah36​ @onlykyloscenes​ @clumsycopy​ @candycanes19​ @desiraypark​ @direnightshade

*Here is our necklace from Tiffany: https://www.tiffany.com/jewelry/necklaces-pendants/elsa-peretti-color-by-the-yard-pendant-62464399/

**Here is the wine we are having, it’s my sister’s favorite red wine and it's honestly not that bad: https://www.wine.com/product/juggernaut-hillside-cabernet-sauvignon-2017/532155?state=CA&s=GoogleBase_CSE_532155_type_Wine_RedWine_CabernetSauvignon_261&utm_source=google&utm_medium=cpc&utm_term=&utm_campaign=Google_Shopping_Smart_CA_Relaunch&showpromo=true&promo=PSCASE10&gclid=Cj0KCQjwpNr4BRDYARIsAADIx9wTNMJgAuhl1zWgoZEny8NAfa4vYZmIzTH446JIQfJ5NE9upZGPAGgaAk0eEALw_wcB&gclsrc=aw.ds#promoBarModal

[sillyrabbit81]

Her Heavy Cross

Summary: Three years after tragedy hits, Lana she decides to start dating again. She meets Will through a dating app and they begin an online romance. After months of constant requests, Lana relents and agrees to meet and go on an irl date with Will. But is Will who he says he is? Lana is quickly pulled into an intense relationship forcing her to confront her tragic past. Will Lana face it or will she close her heart forever?

Pairing: OMC x OFC

Word Count: approx 2.3k

Warnings: swearing

Authors Note: The story started as a Henry Cavill fanfiction but I changed it to be an original character, but shades of Henry are still there. Hope you enjoy the story and thanks for reading.

Part 15 Part 17

Part 16

Liam cooked us a chicken stir-fry with Asian vegetables for dinner. I was mildly surprised that he was such a good cook and told him so. He said he had to learn pretty quickly in the early days of his career when he would go months without a paying job.

"I was lucky. My parents were supportive, so I knew I wouldn't starve, and they would give me money if I asked. I didn't want to, though. I felt like if I had to ask for money, then I was a failure. It motivated me to go to more auditions, prepare better, take some classes to get more skills, perfect my accents."

I admired him for that. From what I knew about his family, they seemed to be wealthy. It would have been easy for him to rely on them while trying to make it.

Liam had told me a lot about his family. He was very close to his two brothers. It seemed like he was a bit of a mummies boy, and I supposed that comes from being the youngest. He seemed to credit his Dad for his love of stories and his desire to act.

"Have you told them about me? Your family, I mean." I asked a bit hesitantly, unsure how I'd feel if he said no.

I shouldn't have worried though, his huge smile said it all. "I told Mum about you over a month ago."

"We hadn't even met yet."

"I know," Liam sounded a bit bashful as he continued. "My Mum kept saying how happy I sounded. I kept dropping hints that she thought I was seeing someone. She's very good at reading me. She hounded me until I told her."

"What did she say?"

"She was surprised we hadn't met. I spoke to her during the week a few times and told her we'd met, and it went well, and we'd seen each other the whole weekend. It was a bit awkward like I said. She knows me too well. She said, 'You mean you spent the weekend shagging.'"

"Oh, my God!" I was so embarrassed. "What did you say? She's going to think I'm the town bike."

"She wasn't judging, by the way. She was worried about how you would react to me. She was happy because she felt like I shouldn't have used Simons photos."

"She's not wrong," I said.

"I know, I know. Do I have to apologise again?"

"No, just don't do it again."

He briefly grinned but then looked at me, his face and tone serious. "Hopefully, I'll never have to."

I didn't know how to respond to that. What did he even mean by that? I didn't ask. I wasn't sure if I wanted to know. I cleared my throat. "Is that all she said?" I asked, instead.

Liam opened his mouth and was about to say something before closing his mouth and trying again. "Well, then she saw the photos and stories about us. I tell her not to read that stuff because most of it is rubbish. But she does. Anyway, she said we looked lovely together and..." he paused before continuing. "And she can't wait to meet you in a few months. She's coming for a visit in late June early July for my two-week hiatus."

I almost asked what he was going to say, but I changed my mind. "What about your brothers? Your Dad?"

"Well, my Dad isn't much of a talker when it comes to relationships. But he did say Mum had shown him your picture and that you seemed like a nice girl. Other than that, he didn't comment. He rarely does unless he thinks someone isn't good for me."

"Is he coming with your mum?"

"Only for one week. My mum will stay for nearly three. My brothers well..." he grinned. "You know what brothers are like. We are rarely serious together. Also, we rarely call each other. We mostly keep in contact through group chats." His lip twitched as he said, 'there were a lot of ginger jokes this week."

I could only imagine what those chat logs contain. I rolled my eyes at the thought. "The bastards," I said.

Liam laughed then asked, "what about your family?"

"I haven't told them much. Dave knows a bit. I haven't told Mum anything." I shifted in my seat. "Dave knew I was seeing someone after I asked him to watch Perrin. But he didn't ask questions. Then on Friday, he found out it was you. He seemed ok with it." I brightened and said, "they will know all about you next week anyway."

Liam returned my smile.

After dinner, we went to bed. We both read for a while. Liam sat up with his back against the headboard while I laid on my back, using his chest as a pillow. I read until I fell asleep.

I grew to hate Sundays.

Sunday's meant my time with Liam was coming to a close. This Sunday had a silver lining because I would only have to wait until Thursday to see him again. This only partially comforted me because it was also the premiere. As the time drew closer, I knew I'd regret saying yes.

I sat with my head in my hands in the store's dressing room. Just picking which dresses to try on had been an ordeal. I had done a quick google search that morning to see what kind of dresses people wore to premieres, and it was almost no help. The range was too extensive. It seemed nearly anything was acceptable, from cocktail dresses to full-on evening wear.

Some articles made me feel sick, especially the articles about the actresses. So many articles talked about how many women found it hard to find dresses in their size because they were size 6 and too big to fit into most designers dresses. I checked out a size conversion chart and found that size 6 was a size 10 here. I was usually a size 10, but sometimes my arse needs a size 12.

I started thinking I was too fat. I kept thinking about my huge arse and thighs, which got me spiralling into thinking my breasts were too small, my hair was too frizzy, I had too many freckles, and I was too pale. The list of my faults just grew in my head until I was sure I'd end up at the premiere looking like a bush pig in a dress.

I started to breathe deeply, in through my nose, hold it, out through my mouth. After several breaths, I opened my eyes. I could do this. I picked up the first dress the assistant had helped me pick. She knew it wasn't going to wor. It was a loose short black lace dress with puffy sleeves that would make me look like the only shape I had was round. The other picks she made were dresses that looked like they were for the bride's grandmother. She also looked at Liam too many times for my liking. She was very helpful if you call taking us to dresses sold out in my size useful. Or if directing all her questions at Liam was helpful. I'll bet she's out there right now being helpful...

Fuck me dead! I think I'm jealous.

That was an emotion I hadn't felt in a while, and I didn't like it. Fuck that. I don't need to be jealous. I picked through the dresses until I found the one I already knew would be the winner.

It was from Australian designer Maticevski. The gown was black with a high neckline, and the beautiful fabric gathered on the left shoulder. The dress was pulled from the hips and cinched in the waist. It had a thigh-high split, revealing just enough skin to be sexy and a small but elegant train. I loved it the moment I saw it and knew I wanted it. But it was $2,500. I loved it so much I almost didn't care. I mean, I knew I wasn't the one people cared about. They wanted to see Liam. This time was different because it would be our first official event together, and the story right now was who was he dating. This time I would get attention. But I still thought it was too much money. I had almost put it back, but the assistant smirked. Liam, bless him, took it out of my hands and said he would love to see it on me.

I wriggled my way into the dress and looked into the mirror. It was the winner for sure. I had brought my heels from Friday night to try the dress on with, and though they weren't quite right for the dress, they gave a good idea of what I would look like. It was slightly too tight around the hips and too a little big on the top. I could get it altered, though. It wouldn't take much. Maybe even a bra with a bit of padding would fix it. I flipped my hair to give it some bounce and a sexy 'just been fucked' look and stepped out.

I was right. She was hitting on Liam hard. I wanted to punch her in the face. But then Liam saw me, and the way he looked at me made me forgot about her. I took a few steps over to him and posed in an over the top way.

"What do you think?" I asked Liam.

He didn't say anything, but his eyes did. He had the same look when he approached me on Friday night. This is definitely the dress.

"It's not too dressed up? I could try something else if you think it's too much." I said to Liam.

"It doesn't quite fit. Perhaps the..." the assistant didn't get time to finish before Liam spoke.

"No." He said firmly, cutting her off. He cleared his throat and approached me. "It's absolutely perfect." He kissed me, and his lips were so soft. He ran his hands over my waist and stood back, looking me up and down. "Perfect. We will take it."

"You don't want to try..." the assistant tried again.

Liam didn't even look at her. "I said we would take it. The other dresses can go back. Thank you for your help." I loved it when he spoke in that authoritative tone, which made me weak.

She went into the dressing room and took away the ten other dresses I was going to try. I wasn't sad to see them go, none of them would be as good as this, but I still wasn't sure.

"I can try another dress. I mean, this one is stupid expensive."

"I don't care if it was a hundred thousand dollars, you look amazing, and you like it, so you will have it."

"I just don't know if I can afford to spend money like this for one night."

"I invited you. I'm paying."

"Fuck. I should have said I need matching earrings." I joked.

"Do you?" He asked, sincere.

"No, don't be silly. Shoes and a handbag will do. I'll buy the shoes you buy the bag. Deal?"

"Nope." He was shaking his head, "I want to get everything for you. Think of it as an Easter present."

"I can afford to buy things for myself, you know. I make pretty good money considering I own my house, and I only have to take care of myself and Perrin."

"I know." Liam ran his fingers through his hair. "Call me a misogynist if you want, but I want to buy you things, pretty things, things you'd never buy yourself. I want to take care of you."

I decided to let it go. I didn't think it's misogynistic to want to buy your girlfriend a present. It's misogynistic if you think you own her because you chose to buy her things. And it did feel nice to have him want to buy me pretty things.

"Ok, Liam," I said.

His smile came back. "Good. Get changed, and let's buy you some shoes." His lip twitched. "Do you need help taking it off?"

"Get out of it." I laughed and got changed.

When I had come out, he wasn't waiting for me. I looked around and couldn't find him in the shoes or the bags. A thought came to me. I hated that I thought it, but I wondered if the shop assistants come on had worked. I didn't believe it, not really, but once the thought was there, it wouldn't leave.

I didn't want to, but I looked for the shop assistant. As I looked, I felt sick from fear and disgust with myself. I found her putting away the dresses from the dressing room, and I breathed a sigh of relief. I hated myself. I wasn't usually like this. It wasn't fair on Liam either. He had given me no reason to suspect him at all.

Then I started to panic. My breath came out shallow and rapid. I felt smothered. There were no windows, and I needed to get out. There were too many people.

I felt warm hands slide under my t-shirt and rest on my belly.

I jumped and spun around. It was Liam. "Ready for shoes, Sweetheart?" He asked.

"Where were you? I looked everywhere."

"I went down to menswear real quick," Liam said. "Now that I know what you're going to wear, I know what I'm going to wear, and I needed a new shirt. It took longer than I thought."

"No worries. I just, I didn't know, it's ok."

"You ok?"

I nodded. "Let's go."

Part 17

[diyunho]

The Joker X Reader - “Ghost Driver”

When The Joker says you’re his, it means you’re essential to him because he needs your services for his own gain; it literally has zero affectionate connotations. Turbo is The King’s Ghost Driver and although she’s a legend, her life is far from perfect.

Part 2

“Where’s all your stuff?!” Frost asks since the apartment is pretty much empty.

“Gave it to Adam,” you sulk. “He wouldn’t sign the divorce papers so I gave in; I don’t even care… I’m glad he’s out of here.”

Jonny gazes at you in silence, a million words rushing through his mind and The Joker’s henchman can’t articulate anything close to what he would like to vociferate besides foolish small talk:

“How are you holding up?”

“Not sure… I don’t even know what the hell happened to us…It used to be so great and then he started making comments about my weight, gossiping with his friends behind my back, then cheated… I couldn’t handle it,” Y/N confesses although Frost is already acquainted with the dreadful story of her crumbled marriage.

“Not what the hell happened to us,” he decides to underline his personal opinion. “I think the question should be what the hell happened to him: you didn’t do anything wrong. And I believe you look perfect,” he mumbles the last sentence.

“What was that?” you search the fridge for his favorite soda.

“Nothing... nothing…”

“Here you go,” you offer the cold Fanta to a distraught companion.

“Thanks, Y/N. Here’s the money for tonight,” he gives you the envelope. “As usually, half now , half after the job is done.”

“OK,” you accept the terms without issues because it’s how The Clown Prince of Crime pays for your services. “Jonny, why is there an extra thousand dollars in here?!”

“Ummm…” the man tries to find a reasonable explanation yet Y/N can’t accept his strategy.

“Should I text Mister Joker and thank him for the bonus?”

“Nope,” he bites on his lip.

“I appreciate it,” you return the extra cash to Frost. ”I’m fine. Really.”

“Well…” he takes the bills and stashes them in his wallet, “… let me know if you need anything, alright?”

“I promise I will, “ you smile. “I swear on my Turbo honor,” the joke makes him smile also.

“Hey Y/N… I was thinking… maybe one of these days, if you feel like it, we could… and it’s entirely up to you, no pressure… maybe you would want to… ”

Frost’s phone keeps ringing and he retrieves from his suit’s pocket, annoyed about the interruption.

“It’s Audra,” he huffs while declining the call.

“Might be important,” you sort of urge him to answer.

“Meh, I doubt it. She will chew my ears off regarding our relationship that ended 3 months ago. I’m not interested,” he strolls towards the exit due to another pressing matter he has to attend. “I have to go, Mister Joker has a meeting soon; I’ll see you later, Y/N.”

“See you,” you wave and lock the door when your cell alerts of an incoming text from The Joker.

Downloading two pictures… Pictures?!

“Oh…my… God…!” you hold your breath when the first image depicts a totally naked King of Gotham reflected in the mirror at his gym and squeal when the second one shows a close up of his mid-section.

“Oh my God!” you burst out laughing as you admire the unexpected missive. “Heeeelllo Mister Joker,” you mutter and actual phrases pop up on your screen.

“I sent these to the wrong number, Y/N. Ignore and erase them!”

“Of course, sir!” you immediately reply with no intention of doing it for the moment.

Why?

The hilarious error shook you up from apathy and it’s worth saving those pics for a bit longer since you can’t remember the last time something got your attention after the messy divorce.

***************

11:49 PM

The Joker is the first one to get in the car next to you, firmly clutching to his suitcase full of diamonds freshly stolen from “Diamond Emporium” store on Glissan Avenue. You notice the other goons sneaking to the cars deliberately positioned around nearby streets for tonight’s robbery. How come J doesn’t go with them?

The dilemma is simple:

The green haired menace typically arrives with his regular crew when he plans heists but has Y/N pick him up after the job is done.

“Hi Mister Joker,” you greet your employer.

“Hey,” he acknowledges your presence. “Did you delete the pictures?” The Joker gets straight to the point.

“Yes,” you lie and tell the truth in the same time: you erased the whole body image but kept the close up one for future reference.

“Good. What did you think?” the hasty interrogation prompts a careful chosen response.

“You look very…,” and you pause in order to find the correct term since a tiny mistake could set him off. “… Healthy, Mister Joker.”

“I do,” he huffs quite pleased with your statement.

You wish to add more but Frost and the new hire squeeze in the back seat awaiting orders.

“You’re in luck kid,” Jonny places a box filled with precious gems at his feet. “Your first assignment and you get to meet Turbo.”

The young man opens his mouth in amazement as you move the fingers from your right hand in the air instead of a proper introduction.

“You’re Turbo?! I thought you’re a guy!” Nick blurs out and Frost punches him in the head, displeased with the observation.

“Sounds empty,” you growl while The Clown snorts.

“My Ghost Driver A GUY??!! Ha-ha-ha-ha!” the unnerving, screechy noises make the newbie shrivel up. “Turbo, A GUY!” he continues to amuse himself before giving Nick a psychotic glare.

“I’m…I’m so sorry, I meant no disrespect,” he nervously stutters especially since J called you “his”.

The poor bastard’s oblivious about what the label implies in The Clown’s universe: when The Joker says you’re his, it means you’re essential to him because he needs your services for his own gain; it literally has zero affectionate connotations.

“Where the fuck did you find this buffoon?” you chew on your gum, irritated.

“He’s Richard’s nephew,” Jonny sucks on his teeth.

“Uncle Panda is infinitely smarter,” Y/N barks at the revelation.

“I’m truly sorry,” Nick apologizes again and you cut him off.

“Save it!... … I hear sirens,” you slowly inhale and The King calmly articulates:

“I forgot to mention I accidentally triggered the silent alarm.”

Translation: he did it on purpose.

You snicker at the first lights blinking in the distance, excited to have some fun after stressing so much in the past weeks. The vehicles belonging to the gang scatter in different directions as you step on the gas pedal, accelerating towards the numerous police cars answering to the 10-64 code.

“That’s my girl!” J cracks his neck, already hyped at the adrenaline rush burning his veins: The Ghost Driver is perfect to offer him what he craves and she always delivers.

That’s why Turbo is his.

************

4:37 AM

“Hi…Mister…Mister Joker…” you attempt to talk without slurring.

“It’s Ella,” his girlfriend snarls.

“Why…where is he?” you guzzle down half of glass of wine, adamant in having a chat with your boss.

“Well, after you two had a merry time being chased by cops all over town, he came home and now he’s sorting out the diamonds,” the woman bitterly reports.

“I wanna talk to him,” you sniffle and drink some more alcohol.

“You just saw him. I’m sure it can wait until tomorrow.”

“I’m sure it can’t!” you shout. “I just received important information he’d be i…interested in,” you finally make it through the whole sentence.

Ella stomps in the living room, vexed at your behavior.

“It’s Turbo,” she shoves the phone in his fingers. “The bitch is wasted!”

“What did you call me?!” the appalled Y/N is about to burst when The Joker’s deep voice resonates I her ear.  

“Yeah?”

“Sir,” you correct your bitter tone. “I h-have very important news!”

“I’m listening,” J ignores his woman as she cusses you out.

“I have to tell you in person, sir. Let’s go on a date and I’ll reveal the entire shocking...”

“Huh?!”

“I have crucial information…”

“Quit repeating yourself!” The Joker interrupts. “You’re not making any sense. Go to sleep and we’ll catch up after you sober up.”

“But I wanna go on date Mister Joker,” you gulp the rest of the wine and prepare for a fourth round.

“Why, because I look healthy?” J mocks and Ella sighs, not understanding the odd conversation she’s witnessing. “… …. … Hello?”

A loud thud, then dialing tone at the other end of the line.

“I think she passed out,” The King of Gotham concludes, not particularly worried at the sudden halt of your monologue.

***************

3 Days Later

The late meeting is almost done: the buyers already purchased the diamonds J had for sale, among them your ex-husband Adam that has a small crowd gathered next to him; he’s supposedly famous for his crappy attitude enjoyed by jerks sharing the same ludicrous humor.

“You know I’m sensible when it comes to challenges and I couldn’t grasp why she doesn’t want my help in shedding a few pounds. What’s the harm in that?! I love curves but sometimes I don’t, ya’ know?” he winks and the group laughs.

The Joker is arranging money in duffle bags, his concentration diverted by the impromptu comedic performance. What the heck are they yapping about?

Frost is certainly in a foul mood: J can guess his trusted henchman is worked up since the usual chilled Jonny can’t control his anger.

“What’s wrong with being voluptuous, hm?” he addresses Adam and it clicks for The Joker: this is about Y/N.

“Nothing at all,” he smirks and the laughter around the room dies out because not too many dare screwing with Jonny Frost. “I was merely emphasizing that if a woman can’t lose weight, she’s doomed. Y/N lost me, how is she going to get another stud if she…”

“Perhaps she’s not interested in pieces of shit; definitely had her share!” Frost grumbles at the absurd remarks.

The Joker has no clue about what’s going on, yet he won’t deny today’s entertainment is far from boring.

“Give me a break!” Adam scoffs. “Who’d sniff her tail if she refuses to get skinnier? Ooohhh, wait a minute, we might have an admirer,” he arrogantly slides your cell out of his coat. “I was browsing her pictures and what do you know? A gentleman sent Y/N a picture of his junk three days ago. I am deeply sorry, my bad. She does have somebody sniffing her tail. What kind of loser sends images of his dangling goodies to another dude’s wife?!” 

“Ex-wife!” Jonny sneers whilst J’s calculation leads to an easy verdict: you kept one pic.

“Whose junk is this?! Is it yours?” your estranged spouse accuses Frost without any evidence.

“It’s my junk,” The Joker’s serene revelation makes everyone freeze: they have no idea how to react at the puzzling escalation of events.

Is he bluffing?!

“I wasn’t aware I require permission in order to text whatever I desire to whomever I want.”

Awkward silence and Frost approaches Adam, boiling with indignation.

“Why do you have Y/N’s phone?”

Your husband doesn’t have a chance to justify his action: Jonny’s punch throws him to the ground, immediately followed by his unsettling ultimatum.  

“You son of a bitch, what did you do to her?”

Your former husband gets on his elbow ready to attack when The King’s stern inquiry stops his motion:

“WHERE.IS.MY.TURBO?”

****************

After 1 hour

Frost lifts you higher in his arms while you keep wheezing, trying to regain control.

“I’m sorry…I attacked you,” the weakened Y/N whispers. “I thought you were Adam...”

After being abducted and left to starve for the last 3 days, you had one clear purpose: to kill the guy that did it. Adam surely crossed the line with his despicable plan of making you lose weight: he creeped in your apartment, kidnapped you and took you to his home where you were chained in the cellar until Jonny found you. The basement was dark and you couldn’t see, that’s why you used whatever strength you had left in order to attack the individual responsible for your misfortune.

Turned out it was actually a rescue party although Frost is now the proud owner of a beautiful bump courtesy of Y/N.

“No problem,” Jonny takes you to his SUV, carefully laying you down in the passenger’s seat. “How’s your head?” he wipes the dried blood on your cheeks since Adam knocked you out unconscious while you were talking to The Joker after the heist.

“I’m OK,” you start crying, mostly mad at yourself for being such an easy prey, yet you didn’t see it coming.

“You know… It’s OK not to be OK,” Frost opens a bottle of water and gives it to you. “I’ll take you home, you can take a shower and I’ll have the doctor come for an emergency evaluation. Are you hungry?”

“I’m so hungry,” tears stream down your face and Jonny has a great proposal.

“I’ll order some food and if you want me to I can stay with you. After you feel better, we could… and it’s entirely up to you, no pressure… maybe you would want to…”

The Joker rolls his eyes, deciding to emerge from the shadows.

“Wow, this is painful to watch. Frost believes he’s still in high school: basically he’s asking you on a date. There, done. No need to beat around the bush. Jesus!” J scolds about a subject he shouldn’t mess with. “I have a heist next week, you better be good to go by then!” he gestures at the confused duo. “If you’ll excuse me, I have my own date to honor. We’re done here, yes?”

“Yes sir,” Jonny replies for both, unwilling to split hairs with The Joker and his obnoxious aberrations. “Here’s your cell,” he returns the item to you and you snatch it, relieved. You seem to have an outburst of energy as you unlock the secured folder.

“Where’s Adam?”

“I don’t know, we had an altercation at the warehouse then he scrammed,” Frost reports, ogling a strange looking Y/N typing on her phone.

“He won’t be able to hide,” you grin and send the attachment to The Joker.

*************

“We’ll be late for dinner,” Ella kisses The Clown. “I’m not a 100% positive why we had to waste precious time and come for her,” she pouts and drags him after her towards their vehicle.

J’s phone chimes and he stops in his tracks, not expecting a message from you seconds after the encounter.

“Mister Joker, you were very generous to share pictures with me.

Allow me to do the same.

Your Turbo.”

Imagines downloading and he’s not sure what to do when pics appear one by one: frames taken by the private investigator you hired to follow Adam when you suspected he was cheating. The bastard was diligent, but he was eventually caught in the act three days ago.

Who’s the woman he’s with?

The Joker’s Queen.

“What’s wrong?” she frowns at the visible switch in his temper.

The Clown ruthlessly slams Ella against the hood while her cell also receives a text from Y/N:

“Who’s the bitch now?”

 Also read: MASTERLIST

You can also follow me on Wattpad and Ao3 under the same blog name: DiYunho.

[schrijverr]

I Wrote My Own Deliverance

Chapter 7 out of 10

Alexander Hamilton is reborn as Alex Hambleton. He is desperate not to make the same mistakes twice, but it seems he is stuck in the narrative, unable to get out. Familiar faces pop up all around him as he attempts to keep his previous life a secret and write himself out of the story.

On AO3.

Ships: none

Warnings: blackmail, bc Reynolds, though not for cheating bv I made Alex a decent person lmao. Tell me if I missed anything or if you want me to tag something!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~

He was looking forward to the debate team. Arguing with his classmates was fun of course, but none of them could really match his wits and he hoped that the debate team would bring a challenge.

Luckily, or unluckily, he was not disappointed. There was another kid, tall Afro-American, introduce himself as Tom Jamesson that was on his team.

They shared opinions about the state of the economy, but their solutions were so different that it had soon turned into a screaming match to each other, while the others just witnessed their verbal tennis match with a horrified fascination.

It was only three meetings later that Alex realized he was looking at the reincarnation of Thomas Jefferson.

Tom, as he was known now, had quoted the Declaration of Independence at him like Jefferson had done in the past. Alex didn’t know if it was that or the cadence of the speaker that forced him to make the connection, but when he did, he had to force himself to not react.

He had not yet figured out if Jefferson had made the connection to him or if the other did not remember himself, but he didn’t really want to find out.

Somehow he had taken a liking to Tom. In this world they shared more opinions, though their approaches were still on the opposite sides of the spectrum, and he was a fun debating partner when the future of Alexs career and the country didn’t depend on the debates.

Tom was better than Jefferson and Alex wasn’t about the ruin the sort of friendship they had built up. So, he kept his mouth shut and tried to avoid using obvious Hamilton-esque phrasings as much as possible, even if it was difficult and he slipped up more often then not. It was hard not to fall back in old routines.

It was easier to keep suspicions of his back in his classes. Aaron was the only one going into law as well and he wasn’t about to create a stir between them, afraid of having Alex remember the duel that had gotten him killed.

As far as he knew the others had only taken the Revolution course last year for History credit, but Laurens was going to do medicine, while Herc was becoming a tailor again, though more fashion-y, and Laf was doing something with international relations. He had also gathered that Tom was doing architecture.

So, he was quite surprised to come face to face with Angie, or Angelica, in an economics class. She had sat down next to him and raised brow as she pointedly said: “You never showed up again after the party, not even with your friends.”

He looked at her like a deer in headlights as he answered: “Well, uh, we’re not really friends anymore, but are they doing alright?”

“I suppose, they are sad about you leaving, so care to explain why I have three heartbroken men that I have to listen to?” she asked.

“They were acting all weird about someone I don’t even know.” he told her the best lie he could come up with on the fly and a story she could confirm with Peggy, god was he glad for Peggy right now.

Angie wasn’t entirely convinced, so he added: “They all knew each other from another life and apparently also a guy named Alex, it was weird that they looked at me expecting someone else. I just needed to get away from it and then it was awkward. Besides, you punched me.”

That didn’t satisfy her completely, but enough for her to let it go and focus on the lecture. Leaving Alex a stressed mess as he prayed for himself to survive this course.

In hindsight it was a bit of an overreaction, but Alex was never known for being anything other then dramatic, so he let it slide.

It seemed Angie was still as sharp witted as always and she was a great study partner. It also seemed she had taken his words to heart, or maybe she just didn’t trust him to fuck over Eliza again, because she didn’t force him to socialize with anyone he’d known.

Instead they debated economic plans and compared notes. He would show up tired with two coffees and she’d force him to eat something in the morning classes.

They had a system that worked.

Not that it surprised Alex much, they had always been close. The musical had interpreted their friendship as romantic, but that had never been the case, they just clicked. And if there had been anything between them, that was now gone as she excitedly told him about her girlfriend.

It was good to have a friend like Angie.

She wasn’t afraid to call him out on his bullshit and after the years apart with her in London, she also wasn’t the most likely to recognize him, especially with how he adjusted his behavior in econ classes.

Alex still had a lot of opinions and the whole class knew, but he would wither when Angie send him a look during his tirades and leave it be.

Though, if later a smash dunk on said wrong person showed up in the school paper that Alex wrote for, or an essay about that weeks topic under his name, well, then that was his own business.

Life was actually going well for a change, which was why it should not have come as a surprise when it fell apart again.

He was working in the library when a guy came up to him. Alex thought he was a year above him, though he did not know his name. At first he pretended he hadn’t seen the other coming and tried to focus on his reading.

“Hello, Alex Hambleton, right?” it didn’t work, “I’m James, James Richardson.”

Should the name have send alarm bells ringing? Probably. But Alex was tired and hungry, so blissfully unaware he replied: “Yes, that’s me. Can I help you with something?”

“That depends on how badly you want a secret to be kept.” James told him.

The blood seemed to freeze in Alexs veins as he tried to remember where he had met this James character before and how the other could know who he had been. He was almost certain he had never seen the other and, as far as he was aware, he hadn’t been careless.

“I have no clue what you’re talking about.” Alex said, trying to play it cool, hoping his many years in politics had helped his poker face.

“Really?” James replied, as he nonchalantly leaned on the table, “I wonder what the board will think when they find out you’ve fucked yourself into the accelerated courses. Was Washburns dick as good as the girls theorize?”

“What?” Alex chocked out, this was not what he expected.

“Don’t play dumb with me.” James said, “Every Sunday you go out, you go to Washburns home and I’ve checked and apparently his wife is away on a case. He’s all alone and you just happen to visit each week.”

Mama M had been on a long case for her top client, who had sadly moved to the other side of the country, but none of them had thought to stop the Sunday Dinners, while she was away. And Alex was certain Washington had written that letter based off his skill, not his past.

He knew this, because he had asked him about thirty-two thousand times and read the letter himself about twice as many. And on top of that he had also gotten letters from his other professors, just in case.

James had nothing, just the fact that Alex had gone over to the Washingtons while Mama M was away, and that was pretty damning if you didn’t have the whole story.

“Not only that,” apparently James was taking his silence as guilt, “but I have also heard someone say that they’ve seen you with Washburn in his vacation home in Virginia over the break, while his wife was having tea. And before that, you got a hug, not very subtle, I have to say.”

He got out his phone and showed Alex two pictures. The first was of the hug by the car, the other of him leaning against Washington while he typed, Mama M cleverly cut out and the next one of them in the garden under the fig tree with lemonade laughing. They looked comfortable, and it was really up for debate how they related to each other based off the pictures alone.

“Those prove nothing and what you are saying isn’t true.” Alex argued.

“I think the board would disagree.” James replied.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.” Alex said, “You’ve got nothing and I did nothing, now leave me alone.”

“I will.” the dramatic pause was unnecessary in Alex opinion, “For a price.”

“Do I look like I have money to pay you hush money for something I didn’t do?” Alex couldn't have stopped the eyeroll if he’d tried.

“Maybe you don’t, but Washburn does.” James said, “Heard his wife was rich. Wouldn’t that be something, your precious Washburn paying hush money for an affair with his wife’s money. You just had to get laid, didn’t you.”

“If you want him to pay, why are you threatening me?” Alex asked.

“Because his little boy-toy will be more convincing then me. Maybe you’ll get on your knees to beg him to pay me, keep you in the little program you love so much. Maybe you’ll even cry.” at this point it was just sadistic.

“Neither me nor Washburn is going to pay you, fuck off.” Alex was pretty done with this.

“Well, then I hope neither of you are interested in a future career.” James said, “Hope you have a great excuse ready, or my money. I want 20.000 dollars on this bank account by tomorrow, you have till 8 AM.”

He slid over a piece of paper to Alex with the number of his bank account, before sauntering off like he hadn’t just blackmailed Alex in public.

Alex pinched his nose and tried to think. At this point he regretted not expanding his friend circle, because he could really use the support right now. There was already an idea forming in Alex’s mind, but he couldn't do it without permission of Washington.

Cursing he packed his bags, it seemed Sunday Dinner would be early.

Mama M tried to convince him to threaten James back with a lawsuit after he had explained the whole thing, but Alex just sighed: “He’s not going to budge, if we do that he’ll just think he’s right and push even more.”

“And we can take legal action against him.” Mama M argued.

“But the damage will already be done and we’re too late.” Alex countered, looking guilty at their slumped shoulders, “I’m sorry, it’s my fault.”

“And why would you say that, son?” Washington asked.

“I knew it was a bad idea to get acquainted with people I’d known in my past life, but I gave in and now I’m dragging you down with me.” Alex explained, “I saw it coming, but I still let the comfort blind me. So, sorry.”

“Don’t apologize for that, dear.” Mama M said, gathering him up in a hug, “We’re just as guilty if you reason like that.”

“But-”

“No, no buts, Alexander.” Mama M told him, “We all made out own decisions and we have to face the music. We’ll make it through, don’t worry.”

“So, is that a yes?” Alex asked, unable to say anything else to that.

Mama M shared a look with Washington, who sighed, then nodded. She turned back to him and said: “Yes. We can still take legal action after that, if the issue doesn’t get resolved.”

They gave him some food and a lift back to campus, where Alex opened his laptop.

He had so much work to do and he needed to do it fast, he needed to be quicker than James, needed to save both himself and Washington, the only person he had ever willingly followed.

When he was done, the light was shining through the window and there was apprehension in his whole body.

He decided to text Angie, hoping she would understand. She’d always understood.

To Queen Angie [6:15]: Remember that punch?

To Queen Angie [6:15]: I might need a new one and I deserve it

To Queen Angie [6:16]: But pls be here for me this time

Alex clicked post and prayed for the best as he crawled under his covers to hide from the world, for once grateful for the quiet and glad Aaron wasn’t home. This was it, the moment of truth.

From Queen Angie [7:52]: Alex?

From Queen Angie [7:53]: Alex??

From Queen Angie [7:53]: Alexander?????

From Queen Angie [7:53]: God fucking dammit you asshole

That morning Columbia University woke up to a breaking news story.

[madrabbitsociety]

Sometimes, and I do not mean for this to sound malicious, which it will, I feel the need to defend hairdressers. 

Hairdressers and hair stylists are skilled technicians who go through thousands of hours of training in order to hone their craft. Some of us were lucky enough to go to a technical school while in high school and are not in debt. I, however, paid almost $25,000 to go to school. I had to go for 1500 solid hours. In my state, that meant Mon-Thurs evenings for 5 hours a night. In my opinion, people don’t give stylists enough credit for what they need to know to get licensed in their state. Specifically, my license is for cosmetology. I had to know skin disorders, chemical reactions, actual strand structure - and we still don’t get told enough because we don’t get proper training on different types of hair, but that’s a whole different post that a lot of other people have done better than me. 

The predominant way we are paid in the industry is via commission. So if we have no one scheduled, we don’t get paid. If we have a client cancel, we don’t get paid. At my first salon I was expected to stay as early as I could to as late as I could, unpaid, just in case someone came in. Of course, corporate places are mildly better in that they offer a minimum wage, but that’s usually somewhere between $7-9 an hour. In order to earn commission in that type of situation you have to do more in services than what you would have been paid for the hour. Again, probably an entire post in itself. 

I tried a lot of places. I paid a lot of money for a license I was very proud to own. The final straw was a salon near my house. Personality-wise, I really felt like it would work out because I enjoyed the people I was around and I was disappointed when it didn’t work. When I first started, they insisted I do two unpaid apprenticeship days because I was (licensed for 6 months at that time) too new to work on their clients. They would provide models and charge the models a lower service fee than their usual service fee. I would then have two paid days at $10 an hour where I would basically follow the owner around, clean and do shampoos. On my days off, I was expected to want to come into the salon and continue to apprentice for free. There was a point in my apprenticeship phase where I was only being paid two days for 5-6 days worth of work. 

Again, this is not uncommon in the industry. Maybe not to this extreme, but certainly there’s a lot of free work being done. Does your stylist have someone help them blowdry? You might want to make sure that apprentice is being paid.

My skills did improve greatly during this period, but I maintain that was because I put a lot into it. The owner took all the credit- through his great teaching methods, I was becoming an ‘okay’ hairdresser. 

During the apprenticeship, unless you handed me a cash tip, he kept all of my credit card tips. So if you added a tip after service with your credit card, the salon kept them because they said I was using their electricity/taking up space in the salon and I needed to pay for that.

In addition to all of the time I listed above actually being in the salon, I was also expected to attend continuing education classes. In summary, and again this is not an uncommon culture in the industry, if you do not eat-sleep-breathe HAIR, you are told you’re not good and you won’t do well. The only exception seems to be if you have children, but if you’re single/without kids they will work you to the bone.

When I was finally promoted to a junior stylist, I stopped being paid hourly at all. I was told I would get 36% commission for services and I was specializing in color corrections/the blonding journey at the time, so I was doing $200-300 services quite often. Some of those services took 4-6 hours of my time, but if I had no one scheduled I was still expected to straighten up, do laundry, sweep the floors and help other stylists with color application and blowouts. Which is fine, kind of. The problem became that from the start of my journey at that specific salon, I would be expected to arrive when we opened at 10 AM and stay until the owner finished his clients- sometimes I didn’t leave until 11-12 PM, and was expected to come back the next day. 

So yes, one $300 color service could mean that I earned 14-16$ an hour, but… when you’re working 10-12 hour days that kind of knocks it down to minimum wage again.

Then there is the opinion that this is an easy job that so many people can do and you don’t need to be vaguely intelligent to do it. That the people who chose hair are stupid or unskilled. I was sitting on the steps of my school once, reading an Agatha Christie book and comparing certain passages to an ACD Sherlock Holmes story via text message with SpicyMags, when an older couple walked by. The man looked up at the school sign and scoffed, “These girls are getting suckered into a scam. This is nothing but a scam and they’re stupid enough to fall for it.” 

Well, in retrospect, he’s not wrong, but at the same time when you know the blood and sweat and tears- the thousands of hours and dollars that are poured into not only the initial licensing but the continued education classes- being a hairdresser is so much more than people give it credit for. It’s an abusive industry that exploits a lot of unpaid labor and even when you get to a point where you have skill, where you are an artist, you have people asking for a luxury service and then complaining when that unnecessary luxury costs them actual money. 

One last thing I’d love to point out- the 100% customer service guarantee. A lot of salons these days are trying to change, but a lot of them also still have a guarantee that if you don’t love your hair, you get a free redo or a refund. Do you know what that means? Your stylist doesn’t get paid.

So I can spend 6-8 hours on your hair after you tell me it’s been box dyed brown attempting to take you through the lightening journey to get it blond. I can tell you that because of the molecules and ingredients in the dye, the actual damaged structure of your hair, that it is not possible to do it all in one day but I can get you close. I can explain to you the entire process, waste all my time being completely honest with you about how golden it’s still going to look because it IS a journey/process, and at the end you can decide that because I didn’t get your hair to solid white in one go that you want a refund…

And I don’t get paid for the entire day that we spent together. 

That’s some fucking bullshit, but it’s - and this is a quote from several of the places I’ve worked- an “industry standard”. 

The cherry on this shituation cake is that we also don’t get any health benefits, life insurance, retirement- no freaking anything (corporate salons being a slight exception although having worked in the medical field I can tell you the benefits offered by corp. owned salons are not great.)

So please, next time you decide that it’s laughable that a salon quotes you $150 for a craft haircut that takes a certain level of knowledge and skill, remember that the salon gets most of that and if you don’t like it there’s a huge change your stylist isn’t getting paid.

Edit: Things that I did not mention but should have- the toll it takes on your body (repetitive motions and standing in heels on concrete floors cause back issues, neck and hip issues, knee issues, carpal tunnel and risk of cutting off your knuckle with your instruments). I had to sign a release that my school was not responsible for me cutting any part of my body with my shears (I’ve had bosses who lost toes and knuckles). You think that heels thing is a joke? I’ve worked in several salons where ‘female’ stylists were required to wear heels and at least three items of make-up because ‘this was the beauty industry and we had a standard to keep’. Say you gather a clientel and can rent your own chair or booth, you’re responsible for purchasing every single bit of supplies you might need to continue doing what you’re doing, so you’re still having business costs eat into your hourly wage. People need to give a fucking standing ovation to hairdressers, okay, because this industry is brutal.

I’m not saying I dislike doing hair, or that I’d never do hair again, but there are several reasons I’m not doing it right now.