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pedrostylez · 10 months ago

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How The Crow Flies - pt. 5

Javier Peña x fem!reader x Frankie Morales crossover

Word count: 3.6k

Chapter Summary: You go back to Javi to figure out what to do next but you find yourself back at the motel

Chapter Warnings and Disclaimers: 18+ only. I am not responsible for what you read on the internet. You have been warned! Locations and descriptions of places may be inaccurate in comparison to each story (Narcos and Triple Frontier). Timelines are obviously different between the two stories, so we are going to meet in the middle and say we are in the early 2000s. These are not necessarily canon characters in regard to how they act, how they treat people, and their current relationships. DUBCON, Mentions of SA, mentions and illudes of self-harm, breath play, no condom fucking you guys (watch out), SMUT!!!! oral m recieving, unprotected p in v, dirty talk, Frankie is struggling with addiction people

A/N: Hope you guys enjoy!

Taglist: @thevoiceinyourheadx @suzdin @survivingandenduring @bariskaplans @inept-the-magnificent @casa-boiardi @paleidiot @darkheartgatita @missladym1981

The smoke drifting up towards the exhaust fan is slow, filling the room with the smell of tobacco. Frankie hasn’t smoked in over a decade; after a couple years in the army he was too keen on doing a line of coke once tobacco wasn’t enough to distract him.

Staring at the cigarette now between his fingers, he thinks that maybe this can be the alternative to you.

He thought that maybe if he had you, like he did just an hour ago, that his itching skin would settle and he could finally sleep. But after having you wrapped around him, fists clenching against the shower wall, his hand around your throat, he was dying for a cigarette to subside the need.

Luckily, he keeps a pack in his bag.

It’s there mostly as a reminder of how it all started, and how quickly it can all crumble. He has only ever stared at the shiny, still plastic wrapped package for a minute or two before stuffing it back away. But the way he ripped the package open after you left, pulling out one single cigarette and setting it on the sink and watching it from his seat on the toilet lid, he knew he was in trouble. It was only a skip and a jump to get the matches on the nightstand and light it, hiding away in the bathroom like a teenager.

There was no way he could tell the guys what path he was going down. Using the decoy as replacement of his addiction instead of telling them how his blood was boiling beneath his skin would get him a smack on the back of the head. Now, smoking a cigarette like he did when he was fresh out of high school in the motel bathroom so that they didn’t see him, well they would likely send him home without any money to show for it.

Frankie curses at himself, throwing the half smoked cigarette into the tub where water still lingers. The hiss of it going out makes him flinch, and he rubs at his jaw to seek some type of relief.

You were trouble; it didn’t matter how good you made him feel, or that you weren’t who you said you were. He was already losing focus after months of watching Lorea’s house. How can he be the one in control if you keep showing up?

“Agent Peña.” He gruffly answers the phone, sighing heavily as you hear the squeak of his chair from where he sits down.

“Hey.” You huff, sitting back in your chair at the kitchen table. You found yourself back in the city, in the home that Peña had set up for you, letting Yovanna know that you were going to be back in the jungle in a few days.

More than found yourself back; you had practically sprinted to a taxi that would bring you back to the main part of the city after Frankie’s motel room. Arriving well past 2AM, you had collapsed in bed without a shower, and an anxious brain desperate to fall unconscious.

When you woke up, you dialed Peña immediately.

“Are you alright?” Peña says quietly, hushed and concerned.

“Yeah, I’m at the crash house back in town.” You strain to sound calm, clearing your throat and avoiding the mirror by the front door by turning your body toward the table.

“So soon?” He questions again, ruffling of papers heard and the sound of his door being shut heard through the receiver.

You sigh unhappily, standing up and beginning to pace around the kitchen. “Do you want an update or not, Peña?”

You’re surprised when you hear his chuckle, the sound of his pencil tapping the desk. “I’ll be there in a couple hours, hermosa.”

When you hang up the phone, you collapse back into your chair. You know you shouldn’t have called him first; he was supposed to call you when the weekend came so that when he showed up it would be the same as if he wanted to spend the night with you.

But you couldn’t help it.

You felt yourself spiraling into a panic over what you did with Frankie, over the security guards that were too rough, over the fact that you enjoyed being in Frankie’s motel room over doing the job to bring down Lorea–

You stop, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. Taking a shower and rubbing at your skin until it is raw from the heat and your sponge might do the trick.

Peña finds himself rushing to his car, not caring to buckle himself in as he speeds in the direction of your crash house. He’s lost in thought, no longer able to hide his frustration when he gets to the pizza place close to your place and finds that he has to wait a few more minutes for the food to be ready.

He can’t help but think of the worst. This isn’t like you-he knows that. He’s read your reports of when you were undercover previously, and you’ve always been the strongest on your team. Some would say you’re the clincher, finishing the job, sticking it out until the very end. You rarely ever needed the team, as most everything was executed by you.

He’s wracking his brain trying to think of what could have possibly happened that made you flee the jungle so quickly as he pays for the food, tipping in spite of his annoyance and heading back in your direction.

When Peña is knocking on your door, he’s surprised that you open it so quickly, hair wet and dripping down your shoulders with a towel wrapped around you. “Y’alright?” He asked hushed, stepping past you and into the living room to sit on the couch.

He opens the box, letting the steaming pizza fill in the space as he settles back to feign comfort. He’s the farthest thing from comfortable, but he doesn’t want to lead this conversation.

You take a deep breath, a crease between your eyebrows forming as his eyes trace over you. You’ve literally just stepped out of the shower, droplets of water making pathways to your fingertips, skin steaming from the hot water. “Uh, yeah I just–” You shake your head, trying to clear your thoughts. “I’m…a lot has happened.”

He perks at this, sitting upright and pulling off his jacket. His tie had been flung off the moment he got in his car, but all of his other layers suddenly felt too tight. “Sit down, hermosa. Are you hurt?”

“What? No.” You scoff, sitting beside him. The roughness of your towel brushes against his leg, the smell of your soap filling his nose as you lean forward to pull a slice of pizza from the box. “I’m just…there’s more going on than we thought.”

“Isn’t there always?” He asks, somewhat ruefully. He watches you eat, making sure you’ve had most of a piece before leaning back again.

“Did you find out more about Santiago?” You question, turning to him and shoving the end of the towel up into your armpit, holding it secure.

He shakes his head, sighing. “Not much. Ex special forces operative. Lives in Miami, like you, which may be why he seems so familiar. I couldn’t get much of a read on who he typically ran with when he was active; it seemed like they reassigned him a couple times.”

You’re stone faced listening to his information, but he can see the wheels turning in your brain and the steam practically coming out of your ears. “Yovanna said he’s helping local police?”

“I didn’t find any record of that.” Peña shakes his head, shrugging. “But, if he’s only advising, then he can fly pretty much under the radar. We’ve been unaware of what they are doing beyond the Cali Cartel, and if he’s not helping directly with that then there would be no overlap.”

You sigh, and Peña can tell it is in relief. “I’ve gotten into the main house four times now. The rotation is simple, but the amount of security doesn’t line up with what is actually inside.”

“What is inside?” Peña questions, tilting his head.

You shrug. “His family? His colleagues? Yovanna apparently does lots of the deliveries for what he is pushing now, but there’s practically nothing in the house beyond his personal belongings. I understand protecting them and his castle but…”

“It’s excessive.” Peña fills in the blanks, letting the information stir in his skull. “Either we don’t know what we are looking for and it’s right in front of us, or it’s somewhere you haven’t been yet.”

You rub your lips together, clicking your tongue when you’ve thought it over. “I’ve been in almost every room of the house. Even the kids’ rooms when they were brought into town to do some shopping.”

Peña hums, biting the inside of his cheek as he stares off to where your bag rests by the door. “There’s likely a safe that you wouldn’t be privy to.” He frowns when he notices that your bag isn’t even open, contents secure inside. He wonders when you actually arrived. “When did you get back here?”

You whip your head around to the door, looking at what he is seeing. “Last night.” You say quietly, looking back to him.

Peña’s attention is brought back to you, how you’re still in a towel and slowly drying from the shower. His eyes glance down to your arms, now observing the tiny scrapes with your irritated skin. “Why did you come back so quickly?”

“Just wanted to.” You answer shortly, standing and walking in the direction of your bedroom.

Peña doesn’t know how much to push you, wanting to have an answer that will let him help you, but he reverts back to what he knows. “Won’t admit that you missed me?” Peña teases, a smile tugging up at the corner of his mouth before he sees how you wince. You cave in on yourself, rifling through the drawer for underwear. He swears internally, knowing it wasn’t the right move. “Hermosa–”

He reaches out, having followed you to the bedroom and stepped beside you. You wince away from him, his hand pulling back in shock. “Don’t touch me.” You seeth, and he holds his single hand up in defeat.

It’s like his thoughts are one a race track, unsure if he’s hurt by your harshness, angry that you won’t tell him what’s going on, or concerned about what happened in the jungle. He waits a moment longer, anger taking over before taking the same hand and grabbing your arm to turn you around. “You have to tell me what happened.”

“I don’t have to do shit, Javi.” Your voice cracks, and he furrows his brow at the use of his name. He went from Peña to Javi in an instant, with you upset with him and he doesn’t understand why.

“Do we need to call it off?” He questions, squeezing at your arm harder before finally letting go. Your skin’s scratches remain under where his hand was. “How am I supposed to keep you safe if you won’t tell me what’s happened?”

“Nothing! Nothing has happened–”

“Bullshit.” He scoffs, running his hand through his hair. “Did they hurt you? Is that why your arms are like that? Did they–” he stumbles over his words, worry weaving its way into his bloodstream with the anger he feels toward you. “Did they touch you?”

“Of course they fucking touched me, Javi.” You spit, pulling a shirt over your head. “Just like you just touched me after I told you not to.”

He freezes, hand on his forehead and other clenching at his side. His mind swims, dizzy suddenly and the heat of his fingertips don’t help. Your eyes are welling with tears in front of him, mouth twisted up in anger as you stare at him.

He swallows, suddenly feeling sick. “I’m sorry.”

“Just leave, Peña.”

“No–no I’m–fuck I’m so sorry. You have to hear me.” Now he’s panicking, following you around the room like a puppy begging for attention. “I didn’t know, I shouldn’t have done that.”

His hands stay close to his side, watching as you pick up items just to put them back down, brushing past him to the main living area to grab his jacket.

“Santiago has a bunch of men in the jungle watching the house.” You announce, more composed than before even in just your underwear and a shirt. Javi’s mouth hangs open, desperate to understand. “One of them is named Frankie. Maybe look into the group Santiago was in that included him.” You swallow, holding out his jacket for him. “He knows I’m not who I say I am, but can’t figure it out. He’s not told Santiago because Yovanna hasn’t said anything to me.”

Javi nods, sliding his arms into the sleeves of his jacket. He has this feeling in the pit of his stomach urging him to ask more questions, to ask how this man has gotten ahold of his agent enough that she knows his name, but it dies in his throat. “I’ll look into him.”

You nod, walking toward the front door and unlocking it. When he reaches it, he stands a few steps back. “I’ll be back in a couple weeks. I won’t call again.”

Javi’s heart sinks as he nods, stepping through the threshold and back to his car, knowing he should have called the whole thing off right then.

1 week later

Frankie hears a knock at his door and groans internally, tossing the butt of his cigarette into the toilet and flushing before walking toward the door to look out the peephole.

He wasn’t expecting you to be standing there in jeans and an oversized shirt, looking behind you in a panicked manner in case anyone saw you at his door.

He pulls it open, not remembering that he’s wearing only his pants unbuttoned and has pillow marks on his face from where he just got up to have a cigarette. “What are you doing here?”

You shrug, stepping past him and brushing your shoulder against his before perching on the edge of his bed. You smile as Frankie shuts the door, turning to you with a scowl. “It smells like cigarettes in here.”

“I smoke.” He announces, shuffling around to put the pack that is laying out back into his disheveled bag.

You hum half heartedly, tapping your fingers on your leg for a moment before adjusting the pillow that he had thrown down the bed and looking at him. He can tell you’re gearing yourself up to make a big ask of him, and he crosses his arms in preparation. “I wanted to know why you and Santiago were watching Lorea.”

Frankie’s blood runs cold before he laughs, quiet and unassuming. “What makes you think I’m going to tell you that?”

His breath stutters as you reach to the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head and dropping to your knees. “I’ll give you that blowjob you asked about last time?”

His skin breaks out in a chill, suddenly hyper aware of how far from you he stands. “That’s…that’s not enough to tell you that.”

Your hand reaches out, finger curling around the first belt loop you come to and pulling. He takes a small step forward, willingly letting your mouth hover above the open zipper. “What else would you want to tell me the reason?”

He sighs heavily, your hands soft against his lower stomach as you brush your fingers against the hair there. You inch lower, snapping at the elastic band of his boxers with a sly smile. “I…uh–”

A loud knock comes to his door that makes you jump back, your hand retreating and his boxers taunt around an uncomfortably hard cock. You stand, doe eyed and questioning when he points to the bathroom. You step past him, skin on skin feeling like a tingle of something he’s very familiar with, a high, and he has to shake himself free of the feeling when the knock comes again.

“Fish! Open the hell up. We’re late.” Benny calls through the door, leaning against the door frame as Frankie opens the door just as he did with you. Benny stares at him, eyes raking from his open pants to his face and smirking. “Why aren’t you ready?”

“I’m staying here tonight.” Frankie mumbles, swallowing roughly and holding the door firm in his grasp.

Benny frowns, glancing past him for a moment into the room before bringing his eyes back to Frankie. “So, you’re not going to have any food? Or drink anything?”

Frankie can’t help but glance behind him, unsure what to do next. “I’ll just…order something in.”

Benny watches him for another second, shaking his head and standing straight. “You got a girl in there, and you aren’t sharing, huh?”

Frankie goes to tell him otherwise, that it isn’t the case, but Benny shrugs and walks away, shaking his head in the process.

When he shuts the door he turns around, eyes trailing up to the bathroom door where your head is poking out with that same grin as before. “Really want to tell me all your secrets, don’t you?” You say quietly, stepping back out into the room.

He laughs again, feeling his ears turn pink in embarrassment. “I wouldn’t say I want to…”

You smile, stepping toward him and pulling his waist against yours. Your hand travels down, cupping him. “Will you?”

He says nothing as you get on your knees in front of him again, eyes staring up at him as you pull down his boxers and let him spring free. You break your gaze for a moment to take him in, wide and heavy in front of you, before licking a stripe up the underside of his member.

Frankie swears you can feel his pulse with your tongue by how you smile, glancing back up at him. “You want me to stay like this, or do you want me on the bed?”

His brain can’t think quickly enough, his hand wrapping around your hair at the back of your head. He pulls you closer, feeling your throat constrict around him and he groans out, “Show me what your mouth can do and then I’ll fuck you.”

The vibrations from your moan almost set him off, the head of his cock hitting the back of your throat over and over. He leans his head back, looking up to the ceiling before he feels you try to swallow around him.

When he looks down and sees tears in your eyes he panics, pulling away from you. The string of saliva from your mouth to his shaft has him pinching his eyes shut. “Sorry, sorry baby–”

“It’s okay.” You sigh, moving your hand over him easily with your spit as the lubricant. “I…I liked it.”

There’s a pause between the two of you, and growl rising in his throat as he lifts you up under the arms, tossing you on the bed. You go to flip over, but he holds you down by your hip with one hand as he pumps himself.

Frankie pulls you to the end of the bed, pushing your jeans off of you and your panties with it, holding your legs wide. “Wanna see you.”

It’s only a mumble, barely audible but you smile shyly. His own smile creeps up before he teases the head of his cock at your entrance. Sliding it up and down your folds, tapping on your clit before edging himself into your entrance.

He takes his time, slower than the last and the slide into you at this pace is divine. He can’t think of anything but you wrapped around him, the way your walls pulse around him to your heartbeat, how your teeth are planted into your bottom lip.

Frankie watches you as he pulls out, how your eyes roll back and your mouth opens into that perfect “o” shape. “This is exactly what I wanted to see.” He breathes heavily, shoving his hips forward to watch your chest bounce. “You, absolutely cock drunk.”

He begins a rhythm that keeps him just on the edge, able to watch and appreciate how you reach for him, how your nails dig into his forearms to keep you grounded. He loves how you throw your head back, chanting his name quietly and then moaning at an extra hard thrust.

“F-Frankie, please–”

“That’s it.” He soothes, rubbing a hand from your hip up between your breasts to your throat. He watches you, waits for your eye contact before letting his fingers squeeze around your throat lightly. “You’re okay baby. Let it go.”

You squeeze him tightly, gushing around him in a way that makes his hips stutter. He groans, pulling out and finishing himself off over your stomach with one hand, keeping the other securely around your neck.

You’re both breathing heavily, watching each other as he pulls away from you. Cautiously he holds out a hand for you to grasp, helping you to shaky legs. “Let’s get cleaned up.”

You nod, pushing hair out of your face and grasping on to his fingers tighter following him to the bathroom. Frankie’s heart beats faster at the feeling of you holding tighter on to him, biting the inside of his cheek before he says something that he will regret. Something like when can I see you again. Instead, he tells you what you want to know. “There’s money that we are after.” He says gruffly, watching as you bend over and start the shower.

You turn around, tilting your head. “I knew that.” You shrug, watching him. “So you’re watching to see when your opportunity is?”

He nods, clearing his throat. “We won’t raid with you in there, though.”

You smile, shaking your head. He senses that you want to say something more–that you have more to say but you’re not allowed. He waits, you turning to him and motioning to the shower curtain. “Come on, while the water is warm.”

#htcf #how the crow flies #javier pena #javier pena fanfic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic #frankie morales #frankie morales smut #javier pena x reader #frankie morales fanfic #francisco morales #frankie morales x reader #tw dubcon #tw self h4rm

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astraule · 4 months ago

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“It's You I Love"

Pairing: Louis x Reader TW: Violence, Mark’s leg in season 1, strong language. Y/N: She/Her Ericson kids' reader. Word Count: 1.9 K Summary: You find Marlon with two old friends, Duck and Clem, and immediately burst into tears as you give them a big hug. The next evening, after dinner, Louis suggests a game of War in the courtyard; unfortunately, it quickly turns sour as Clem and Duck get up and leave, just as things are getting a bit touchy-feely. Aasim encourages you to tell Louis how you are really feeling, which results in a light-hearted moment between you and Louis. *Based off a fanart I saw of grown-up Duck, wanted to see what it would be like if he survived and made it to season 4.”

Y/N POV: (Courtyard)

"He just mentioned that, so you should probably go do it Tenn, it's your shift for keeping watch," I said with a grin before I turned around and caught sight of Marlon and two other figures in the distance. I assumed they were the two individuals they had saved from the wreckage of the car. It was time to go and greet them. As I approached, familiar faces began to come into focus, their features remaining unchanged from the last time our paths crossed. It was as if time had stood still for them, frozen in a moment.

3RD POV: (Flashback, Season 1 Travelier Motel)

“Come on Y/N, I know you took it, give it back to me” Duck wailed as he accused his sister Y/N of taking his favorite action figure. Of course, this wasn’t an accusation as Y/N had taken his figurine, but she shook her head and refused to mention anything. "Hey guys, can we please not argue? Lee is swamped with work at the moment, so why don't we just focus on coloring and-" Clementine's words were cut short as Duck suddenly pushed Y/N, causing the 9-year-old to burst into tears. The commotion caught the attention of both Lee and Kenny, who quickly rushed over to see what was happening. Kenny's authoritative voice echoed as he questioned the situation, looking at both his children, Duck and Y/N. With silence as the only response, he let out a sigh and gently lifted Y/N, placing her on the table. "Are you okay, Birdie?" he inquired, using her affectionate nickname. Just like Duck, whose real name was Ken Jr., Y/N was also known by her nickname, Birdie. Lee's gaze shifted towards Clem, contemplating how he could get some answers from her. "Sweet Pea, would you mind elaborating on what transpired? I assure you, none of you are facing any trouble; we simply seek a sincere and truthful explanation." Duck hung his head low and admitted, "It wasn't Clem's fault, it was mine." The children had grown accustomed to using the nicknames that the adults had given them - Ken Jr. was known as Duck, Y/N as Birdie, and Clementine as Clem.

(Flashback, Season 3 New Frontier)

Y/N's voice echoed through the woods, filled with desperation and anger. She struggled against the hold of David's worker, her eyes fixed on the scene before her. Clem was on the ground, tears streaming down her face as Duck tried to comfort her. The words spilled out of Y/N, a mix of frustration and fear, as she pleaded for them not to take AJ away. The weight of their shared struggle hung heavy in the air. “You’ve been a huge problem yourself, take her away I never want to see her again” David mentioned to his worker as he stepped closer to Y/N. That’s when the panic set in within her. “NO! Please don’t take me away from my family. Please don’t take the last thing that reminds me of my dad.” she said as she sobbed, a cry so terrible like the day at the motel when Duck had pushed her down. That was the last time Y/N saw AJ, Clem, and Duck.

Y/N POV: (Present Time)

Startled by the sight of my friends, I exclaimed, "CLEM?! DUCK!" before rushing towards them and enveloping them in a warm hug. Through tears, I explained how I had searched for them after the incident, only to be surrounded by walkers, forcing me to flee for safety. Both Duck and Clem exclaimed my name in unison as they embraced me tightly, indicating that they had reunited after the events with the New Frontier. As I released them and dried my tears, I inquired, "There was someone else with you two, who was it?" “You might have to see it yourself; it’ll be hard to explain.” Clem chuckled softly as she brushed away her tears. "Looks like you guys are all pretty close," Marlon remarked, a wide grin on his face. "You should go check on the kid, he's with Louis in the music room. I'm sure Y/N can show you the way." A kid?

(Music Room)

Louis' piano skills always captivated me, and I couldn't deny the feelings I had for him, even though he didn't reciprocate them. His eyes revealed that I was just a friend to him. "Lou, I have visitors," I announced, spotting a child watching him play. "AJ, come say hello." Clem mentioned. AJ... the same cheerful baby who used to cling to me all those days ago. Would he remember me? AJ suddenly spun around and within a split second, he was wrapping his arms around my legs. Overwhelmed with emotion, I dropped to my knees, tears streaming down my face as I embraced him. "When we found him, he kept asking about you. You've clearly made a lasting impression on him. We even showed him pictures of you to keep memories alive... we thought you were gone," Duck revealed as he patted my back. Louis exclaimed, "What a fantastic family gathering this is!" as he gazed at Duck with an unfamiliar expression on his face. Despite the odd look, I brushed it off, feeling grateful that my family had finally arrived. "I'm here to stay, AJ. I'll never leave again," I declared as I rose to my feet and wiped away my tears.

(Courtyard, After Dinner)

Louis declared it was time for an entertaining game of War as he revealed a deck of cards. "You're in for a challenge tonight," I teased, but he just grinned skeptically. "What are the rules?" Clem inquired. "Simple," Violet explained, "each player gets a stack of cards and flips one over. The highest card wins." Louis flashed a grin at Clem before speaking up, "The victor will have the chance to pose a question to either Clem or Duck." Marlon chimed in, "And let's not forget about Y/N, there's more to her than meets the eye." I couldn't help but chuckle at his comment. Duck, ever curious, asked, "What happens if one of us wins?" Louis replied, "In that case, the winner can ask any of us a question," as he began shuffling the deck of cards. As we each drew a card from the deck, it was evident that Clem was the clear winner. "What's the most disgusting thing you've ever eaten?" she inquired. The answer came easily for the three of us after mistakenly consuming a piece of our group member's leg. Violet, Marlon, and Louis shared their experiences, but none could compare to the revulsion of ours. The moment they learned the truth, they were all visibly taken aback. Louis emerged as the victor, and without hesitation, he inquired of Clem, "Have you ever had a boyfriend?" I had anticipated this question, so why did it catch me off guard? I slumped my head in disappointment on Duck's shoulder, and to my surprise, he didn't pull away. There was something changed about my brother; perhaps it was the realization that he had believed me to be dead for a year. Our sibling dynamic seemed more subdued, and I could sense that our disagreements would be far less frequent. It was then that I noticed the same expression on Louis' face as he gazed at Duck earlier. Marlon emerged victorious this time, taking a moment to ponder his question before speaking. "You three couldn't have been on your own all this time. Who looked after you? Family? Anyone?" The room fell into a heavy silence as we all reflected on the past. Knowing that neither Duck nor Clem wanted to respond, I decided to speak up. "We had two main caretakers, Lee, a close friend, and Kenny, my father." Louis continued his winning streak by securing one last victory before hesitating to ask a rather serious question. "Just spit it out," Violet remarked, rolling her eyes. "It's not a lighthearted question, but have you ever been in a situation where you had to harm someone you cared about?" Louis eventually inquired. The silence that followed was not only audible but palpable. "Yes," Clem responded. "Please, continue," Louis urged, attempting to extract more information. "It was a simple yes or no question." “I think we’re done playing tonight.” Duck declared, giving Louis a stern look before leading the way back inside with Clem following closely. Louis, feeling guilty, turned to Violet and mentioned that she had wanted him to ask. I let out a sigh and made a move to leave as well, telling Louis to just forget about it. He nodded in understanding, dropping his head in defeat. Marlon then reassured Louis, expressing his hope that Louis would inform the others that there was no ill intent. He ended on a positive note, suggesting a potential long-term plan for Clem, AJ, and Duck to stay and leaving me feeling relieved that my family was back for good.

(Forest Hunting)

Louis pleaded, his puppy-dog eyes trying to melt my anger away. Sure, he was cute, but his attempts to smooth things over with just an apology weren't going to cut it this time. Especially after him flirting with Clem the night before. Aasim trudged deeper into the woods, clearly fed up with the situation. "This is so embarrassing, just admit your feelings for him already, Y/N, so we can put an end to his annoying pleading," he muttered under his breath. Suddenly, Louis turned to me with a puzzled expression, demanding, "What is he talking about, Y/N?" His face twisted in a mix of surprise and probably disapproval.

Louis POV:

Shock coursed through me as I realized the girl I had fallen for a year ago actually loved me back. My mind was a whirlwind of emotions until Y/N's tears brought everything to a halt. It pained me to see her beautiful face contorted in sadness, someone I cared for deeply. "Why... Why are you crying? Let's go back to school and discuss this," I urged, desperate to understand her tears.

(Courtyard)

As I held Y/N in my arms, I attempted to console her by expressing my regret for causing any pain. I mentioned my misunderstanding about her feelings towards Duck, assuming she had a romantic history that was still affecting her. I apologized for my actions with Clementine, hoping to alleviate her distress and prevent any further tears from falling. Our conversation took place in a moment of vulnerability, seeking to mend any hurt feelings and reassure her of my intentions. Y/N finally managed to speak through her sniffles, revealing that Duck was actually her brother. The revelation brought a sense of relief, but also confusion. "Your brother? Why didn't you mention it earlier?" I asked, feeling a bit foolish for not realizing sooner. Y/N explained, "I mean, we do look quite similar." As she wiped her nose, I couldn't help but notice the striking resemblance between the two siblings. It was a moment of realization that brought everything into perspective. At that moment, a smile spread across my face, and I made the spontaneous decision to draw her close for a kiss. We lingered in that embrace for a while before parting, and I couldn't help but playfully tease her with the words, "you silly girl, my silly girl."

Clem POV:

“That stupid Louis he better treat my little sister with good care” Duck said as he watched Louis and Y/N from a distance. “Alright that’s enough. Stop spying on them, it’s creepy.” I mentioned. “Maybe I should’ve mentioned that I didn’t like women from the beginning,” Duck said. “It would’ve been a better idea to just tell them Y/N was your sister, not just that you’re gay Duck.” I said before stepping away.

I hope you guys enjoy reading this as much as I loved making it, if you see any mistake in my writing, please let me know, I would love to receive feedback as quite I'm new to this. I hope you guys don't mind the difference in fanfics I write, I like to write about the things I'm interested in.

#the walking dead game #twdg #twdg clementine #twdg kenny #twdg lee #kenny twdg #lee everett #twdg louis #twdg marlon #twdg duck #twdg aj #twdg violet #twdg x reader #louis twdg #louis x reader

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tragantia · 7 months ago

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Been thinking about this for a while, trying to imagine what Severen's life was like at the frontier during the Wild West days. Bill Paxton imagined him as a lowlife, a cowboy, and the term 'cowboy' was used to describe an outlaw, as a legitimate cowboy would have normally been described as a rancher.

I imagine him without proper parental guidance, probably with a violent father and an absent mother (Did she leave? Did she die? Was she submissive to her husband, to the point of becoming numb to everything, including her son?). So, using colloquial terms, he probably had what we call 'daddy issues' and 'mommy issues'.

His surname 'Van Sickle' suggests that at least the father was probably an immigrant from the Netherlands - so a larger support group would have been unlikely.

Chaos suited him well since this is the only reality he knew, so he left home early. He run into more questionable company, but again, he was already good at doing questionable things, probably had stolen since he was very young.

When Jesse met him, he was already a man in his thirties, experienced enough to have done pretty gruesome things by that point, and he took to his new lifestyle as if it was meant for him.

Jesse himself was pretty questionable, but he had something that Severen craved - he was solid. I'm not sure whether to go to the extent of saying that he was a 'good man' in the conventional sense - he wasn't, but he looked after his own. He was protective, he taught him things to help him survive and improve himself. He called him out when needed, despite letting him have his fun. Severen was too old for Jesse to be a proper father figure, but he was close enough.

When Jesse brought Diamondback - Severen realised that it was possible to really love someone, romantically speaking. He would never admit it out loud, but he realised it was possible to build a life, a family. It's something that sounded almost alien to him, and he didn't really know how to express it.

He took Homer and Mae under his wing, so to speak. Behaved like his asshole self, particularly with Homer, and showed Mae how to defend herself. It was his way of showing he cared. He forced himself to do the same with Caleb, for Mae's sake, and ended up liking the idiot (in my reality Caleb stays with the clan and everyone lives happily ever after ok including the horse who never gets punched by Sev like in the script shhhh ride to freedom sweet bby). He looked up to Jesse. He had shown him this life and stayed loyal to him, so he would reciprocate and protect his clan at all costs.

When he finally meets his s/o? He feels like he's been hit by something. He can't understand what it is at first, he finds it annoying, infuriating even. He's had flings before, and plenty of sex, sure, but he's never *cared*, not really. Imagine this emotional analphabet sat in a motel room as his mate rides his cock whilst looking into his eyes, caressing his chest, neck, jaw, kissing him, telling him how much they love him, praising him, whilst he just lays there grabbing their hips and moaning, drunk on the feeling of his cock being swallowed by their warmth, and knowing what it's to be *loved*. He's so touchy during the film, you can't tell me he wouldn't *love* that.

He will never get tired of it. His overall dominant and aggressive persona discarded, during those moments he just allows himself to exist and be given what he's never known that he craved.

#I'm so sappy #Kill me #severen van sickle x reader #near dark #near dark 1987 #severen van sickle #bill paxton #severen #severen x reader #severen near dark

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twdg-and-stuff · 2 years ago

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hi!! could you do reader formerly apart of the motel group that was presumed dead (maybe lost in the bandit raid?) settling in at ericsons’s eventually a few years after and reuniting with clem in s4? it’s random and oddly specific but I hope you find it interesting enough to pursue! thanks :)

A/N: Hello!! I’d be happy to, I hope you like it!:) This kinda reminded me of Michonne and Jocelyn in TWD (minus the kidnapping kids part…) because I was rewatching S9 lol

Warnings: Assumption of death, Usual TWDG stuff

Clementine x Reader

If she was being honest, Clementine had completely forgotten about you. Maybe not completely, if someone randomly said your name she’d remember-but still, not a lot. You were a memory she’d shoved in the back of her head, forgotten but still there. She thought you’d died a long time ago.

You on the other hand, never stopped thinking a bout her. Not just Clementine, but the whole group. You forgot some people’s names, but remembered Clem’s because of how unique it was.

You’d been through countless groups since then, most had either died or just split up slowly. You made many friends along the way but none you remembered as well as Clementine.

One day, Clem was playing war with Louis and Violet.

“Alright, I get to ask Clem now.” Louis said.

He coughed before speaking.

“Someone you remember from an old group?”

Clem thought about it for a bit. They all knew about Lee, Kenny, and now obviously Lilly. She kept thinking, almost like sifting through files in her mind. She’d told them stories about basically everybody-then she remembered you.

“Hm, well there was this person in my first group. They were my friend. I miss them, they died during a raid from bandits that I told you guys about earlier.”

The table went silent.

Then, it was broken by yelling. Rosie began barking.

The three shot up and ran towards the gate.

Clem could make out 3 shadows. Two of which she knew was Aasim and Mitch. The other stood hunkered down between the two.

“We found Them Right outside the old safe zone.”

Clem walked farther towards them.

Her eyes widened when she realized.

It was you.

“Y/N?”

“Clementine?”

You both ran to hug each other, memories instantly flooding back.

“I thought you were dead.”

“I thought you were, too.”

The high of seeing an old friend quickly warned off when you both noticed your best friends, parental figures even, weren’t with either of you. You both assumed the worst.

You and Clem spent hours that night catching up.

Clem told you about Christa and Omid, The cabin group, Carver, Arvo, The new frontier, Javi and Gabe, Finding A.J.

You told her about the groups and people you’d met, bad people you’d run into before, anything you could remember.

Clementine was happy to have you back. To have someone who understood the first few months of the apocalypse for her was like.

#the walking dead #the walking dead game #twdg #twdg fanfic #twdg headcanons #fanfiction #twdg x reader #clementine twdg

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klaineccfanficlibrary · 2 months ago

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Hello, I remember reading like a western fic? I don't remember much, but Blaine was the one from the countryside. I just remembered that k&b get a motel room for like an hour and have sex.

I am not aware what this could be, i recommend our cowboy!blaine tag and hopefully it's on there. Here are some others as well. ~Jen

the historically inaccurate glee western au by soggy_peppers

An au featuring the glee cast in the wild west. in no way historically accurate and mostly fantasy. works in this collection are not in order. more about the au on hevanderson on tumblr!

~~~~~

Someone To Ride The River With by mmerainbows

Lima appears like a bustling frontier town with all the pleasures a man could want. Kurt however knows the truth about the town, and how the families in power abuse their authority. He wants to get out, but he's deep in debt. Meanwhile Blaine comes to Lima for the annual Cowpoke competition.

#klaine fanfiction #fic finder #western

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bourbonificould · 7 months ago

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For your series!!

What if Lee Everett wasn't a criminal? (The story begins the same way, but maybe he's in like a taxi instead of a police car)

What if Larry died at the motel a week after being saved in the meat locker?

What if Christa was a part of the New Frontier? (Maybe replace Clint idk he's kinda boring)

What if Lee had a son in Athens?

What if Ben told Lee about the deal with the bandits before the attack?

What if Brody outed Marlon before Clementine's arrival?

What if Carver killed Luke and Kenny?

Great great great stuff!

I'll definitely look into experimenting with these, the Larry one was something ive been thinking of a lot so thats good too :) thanks anon.

#the walking dead game #twdg #telltale the walking dead #send me asks #anon ask #ask biic #what ifs #twdg ask #lee everett #twdg larry #twdg ben paul #twdg brody #ben twdg #carver twdg #twdg kenny #luke twdg #marlon twdg #christa twdg

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vintagelasvegas · 8 days ago

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Last Frontier Village, c. 1948

Old West-themed service station and theme park on the grounds of Hotel Last Frontier, Las Vegas Strip. Signs for Desert Spa and El Playtel motels behind the women in the first photo. Scans from negative by Vintage Las Vegas.

#1948 #Last Frontier Village #✴︎

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burnsoregonphotoblog · 8 months ago

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Silver Spur Motel at the North entrance to Burns, Oregon

Last frontier of the Old West.

#oregon #eastern oregon #harneycounty #the great pnw #the old west #oregonoutback #pnw #oregon outback #burns oregon #harney county #vintage postcard #the high desert #the pacific northwest

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coiledqueen · 4 months ago

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The Cove Lily Motel has sat empty for years on the seaside city's outskirts, slowly falling apart and seemingly abandoned. The reclusive building paints a lonely picture under the Hoenn moonlight.

It's the last place one would expect to find the Battle Frontier's reigning Pike Queen, but she's here tonight, lording over Lilycove's best worst-kept secret: an underground, unofficial Game Corner of her own co-creation. The abandoned motel was just a facade--downstairs, the space crackles with life: the clinking of glasses, the whir of slots, the shuffling of cards...

Tonight, Lucy perches at the lobby entrance, flanked on either side by a massive Hariyama and Pangoro--the casino's unofficial 'bouncers.' She's distracted, raven hair falling over one eye as she taps away on her PokeNav, probably texting Noland or Scott. When Pangoro grunts at the approach of a new arrival, Lucy doesn't even bother to look up. Whatever.

"...Password?"

#(on a roll so have an open hehe)

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carefulfears · 1 year ago

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this is perhaps very annoying but im slowly making my way thru the seasons and would love any s1-s3 era fics <3 always love your fic recs and hope you have a lovely day!

hey pumpkin!! never annoying, thank you so much!!

i don't often read early-series but

here are some s1-3 fics from my favorite writers:

the mummy by audries: set post-s1, mulder and scully on a field trip to a museum. captures that perfect early series best best best friends-ism that i adore so much. as always, the character work is subtle and moving.

unknown by kittenscully: "in another time, he thinks, they’d have been pioneers together, leaving behind family and safety to go west hand in hand. too restless to settle anywhere."

post-darkness falls. two adventurers quoting lovecraft, wrestling with stars.

friction by kittenscully: post-fire, post-phoebe. mentions of diana. i love the subtle build-up of this one. the imagery, and the respite. i love that stupefied moment mulder always takes when someone is kind, and how it is embodied here.

madness by kittenscully: i know, i know, y'all can just click their page and scroll. but every time i think of phoebe, i think of this fic. post-syzygy, works through the detective white issue. "it's something about how trusting he is, she thinks."

transient luminous events by @seek-its-opposite: completing the trio of my three favorite writers, this post-abduction story doesn't waste a word. one of the rare creators that can balance worship and contrition, and the ways that devotion is often both, this work is a much needed quiet break after the tension of irresistible.

last frontier by @seek-its-opposite: "she had forgotten that she told him but isn’t surprised that he remembers. when his mind trains on her it’s like being a slide in a microscope, exposed but lit from within."

alaska, and parasitic betrayal. newly discovered desperation beneath ice.

outsiders by @swinging-stars-from-satellites: a unique perspective on arguably the series' best episode, there are several lines in this post-pusher one shot that catch my breath.

(the following are my favorite NSFWs, proceed responsibly babes)

soft focus by kittenscully: WALK WITH ME...walk with me. canon divergence, post-abduction. beginning in gentle hesitation, giving way to guilt and penance, following through to absolution and relief; no one writes smut like them, no one writes MSR like them, no one writes like them.

bellefleur, oregon by kittenscully: remember in the pilot when scully had mysterious marks on her back and she got scared and dropped her robe in mulder's motel room and he looked her over in candlelight and told her she was okay and gave her his bed and sat below her on the floor and told her about samantha and his life and neither of them knew each other or trusted each other but they bared themselves to each other anyway, physically and emotionally, over and over? yeah, me too...this story asks the brave question "what if then they fucked raw?"

mariette field, idaho by kittenscully: remember in the second episode when mulder and scully were so newly obsessed with each other and they went to idaho and bickered in motel rooms? well-

custom-made heel armor by coppersunlight: something lovely from one of my good friends, this post-wetwired first time AU understands trust as eroticism. the sisyphus reference, the fish tank mention, it's easy to see why i adore the girl behind this story.

enjoy!

(you can find the rest of today’s recs here)

#asks #fic

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pedrostylez · 11 months ago

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How The Crow Flies - pt. 4

Javier Peña x fem!reader x Frankie Morales crossover

Word count: 3.7k

Chapter Summary: Frankie brings you back to his motel

Chapter Warnings and Disclaimers: 18+ only. I am not responsible for what you read on the internet. You have been warned! Locations and descriptions of places may be inaccurate in comparison to each story (Narcos and Triple Frontier). Timelines are obviously different between the two stories, so we are going to meet in the middle and say we are in the early 2000s. These are not necessarily canon characters in regard to how they act, how they treat people, and their current relationships. DUBCON, alcohol, drinking, mentions of SA, illudes to discomfort with actions, SMUT!!!! shower sex, unprotected p in v (idc that it is not realistic okay wrap your willies) dirty talk, Frankie is....wowza, derogatory use of whore

A/N: It's been a minute but here it is! Merry Christmas to those that celebrate, and hope you enjoy :)

Taglist: @thevoiceinyourheadx @suzdin @survivingandenduring @bariskaplans @inept-the-magnificent @casa-boiardi @paleidiot @darkheartgatita @missladym1981

As you arrive back at the home that Yovanna had set you up in for the week, you begin to panic.

Your hands begin to shake as the door shuts behind you, being able to breathe for the first time that day. How everything had already gone so sideways from what you thought, from what you anticipated, was setting you in a spiral.

You find yourself at the kitchen sink, emptying the contents of your stomach and shutting your eyes in pain. Tears are welling up in your eyes at what you did that day, how you endured and convinced yourself everything was fine.

How this…man...was waiting for you just beyond the door.

You had this irksome thought in the back of your mind, telling you to just call Peña. It didn’t matter that the phone lines were probably bugged, you could convince yourself that you needed him if your stomach kept betraying you like it was.

Peña would get you out of here. He would tell you that you should have called him sooner. He would say this wasn’t worth it.

But his nagging part of your brain kept repeating to yourself.

You could do this.

You can do this.

You will do this.

You want to do this.

You scoff out loud, wiping at your eyes before running the water and doing your best to clean the sink before walking toward the bathroom. You could do this; it had only been a day, and while things had not gone how you expected, there was clearly more going on. More than what Peña thought.

The curiosity of how Santiago and this man in the jungle keeps you occupied as you raise the temperature of the water to practically boiling, scrubbing profusely at yourself. Your skin felt raw, but you continued to circle soap down the drain as you pondered.

There were three men in that car that Santiago got into, and the driver was who stopped you. Covered in that much dirt tells you that he had been there a while, and likely had all of his friends close by.

You can’t move past how his eyes traced over you; in a greedy way, but also assessing. He was curious about what your motive was long before he figured you out. And how quickly he figured it out…makes you question if you are actually any good at your job.

You won’t be telling Peña about that.

The water began to run cold, turning it off and stepping out to look in the mirror. Your grandmother’s voice rings through your ears as you examine the red splotches on your skin from over scrubbing. A long day of things you didn’t want to do could be washed away easily with a strong enough sponge.

Your trembling hand reaches for the front door, settling your nerves and putting up the mask as you push it open into the humid air. The sun blinds you briefly, squinting your eyes to look for the car that was supposed to be waiting for you.

I would love to see you again. I know my men wouldn’t mind either.

You swallow around nothing, angrily stepping toward the truck that is parked across the street. You know you need to appear happy, appear willing, but it's difficult when what information you thought you would be getting at the end of this week is not even close to what you need.

You remind yourself of everything you’ve observed and discovered so far. There are ten security guards on one side of the compound at all times. They rotate every four hours to prevent tiredness. The only shift that wants your entertainment (at the moment) resides on the backside of the compound every late afternoon.

That man that wanted to see you again is lurking outside at the same time, watching the back door.

The feeling in your stomach clenches as the man in the driver's seat gives you a small wave, the smile you give back forced. You slide into the passenger seat with a quiet “hello”, watching his hand rest on your exposed thigh.

The flowing red dress, muted by sun exposure but giving you an air of innocence all the same, slides out of his way as his hand climbs higher, settling on your chilled skin.

In the back of your mind you wondered briefly if you should break his fingers and ruin this whole thing to shove it in Peña’s face, or if you should wait it out. Maybe, he would forgive you.

The man, dirty in the jungle, flashes through your memory again, and for a brief moment your stomach settles. At least someone was out there watching over you, even if he didn’t have the best intentions either.

Frankie knows his plan is not all that sound, but he doesn’t know any other way to go about it.

Your red dress just two days later has his jaw slack, laying next to a bush that definitely has ants in it. He can’t see you from the window today, but he can hear your laugh through the walls of the main house.

How you were already past just the security house and into the main home, has him floored. There is no way that you were that impressive…right?

When it goes quiet, his thoughts stop, ears straining to listen for any indication of you.

“What are we seeing, Fish?” Pope whispers over his ear piece.

Frankie waits a few seconds, reaching up to his lapel and sighing. “Nothing. Can’t hear anything either with you yapping in my ear.”

Silent for a bit longer, and then-

“Don’t sass me just because I’m interrupting you commiting her to your spank bank memory.” Pope snides through the ear piece. Frankie swears he can hear Benny laughing off in the distance somewhere, but all he can do is shake his head.

“You did see that dress on her today, right? She’s playing innocent.” Will chimes.

“I wouldn’t say she’s innocent-” Frankie pulls out his ear piece before Benny can finish his sentence, annoyed with himself for getting worked up.

Suddenly the door flies open, your wobbling ankles stepping down the two steps and leaning against the railing before looking around.

He watches you shake, head turning to look down and stepping out of the house and on to the trail. You’re pulling down the hem of your skirt as far as it will go, straining against itself. His eyes trail down your legs, interest peaking in how you stumble, holding yourself up with a hand against the fence post again.

You lift your head, searching beyond the trees before turning yourself to the door you just appeared out of. Frankie shifts from his spot behind the bush, eyes never leaving your figure. He feels crawling up his arm and brushes it away, hoping that it isn’t a fire ant.

You take steps forward along the trail, eyes searching through the darkness as he whistles lowly. He pulls the earpiece back to his face, securing it in place to find the men have gone quiet. You don’t freeze, only tilting your head in his general direction before continuing on and Frankie smiles.

“I know you’re there.” You say lowly, stepping farther away from him so that once he is on his feet he has to side step, parallel with the path to keep up with you.

“What are you looking for in there, hm?” He laughs. You turn your head another time before stepping off the gravel and in his general direction, bumping into him with a quiet huff.

“What are you looking for out here?” You snark back, shoving your shoulder against him as your eyes adjust to the darkness the jungle provides. “What is Santiago up to?”

Frankie bites the inside of his cheek, looking over you briefly. Your hair has been made a mess, the corner of your mouth donned with a fresh cut. Your eyes are searching over his shirt, clocking the lapel microphone.

He chooses to ignore it, eyes flashing to yours. “I’m looking for you, of course.”

When you cross your arms and pop your hip out, giving him a look of disgust, something in him wants to laugh. Not a whore, most certainly; you’re too defiant to be like the ones he has come across while here. “I’m trying to make some money. Yovanna said they have a lot of it, seems like an easy pay day.”

“I’m trying to make some money too.” He shrugs, playfully reaching forward with a finger and pulling down the front of your dress. It’s tight here, unable to move but he smiles all the same when you bat his hand away.

“I only accept payment, asshole.” Another huff, a healthy step taken away from him towards the sun the path provides.

Frankie reaches out, fingers wrapping around your forearm to pull you back. “How much does it cost to get you on your knees for me?” He says quietly, eyes flicking over your face again as he pulls you closer.

You pause, flipping your hair and shaking your head. “More than you have.”

He releases your arm, watches as you stay put. “What? You don’t take information as payment?”

Your expression remains neutral as you watch him. Frankie smiles again, reaching for the belt of his pants; he’s been given a yes as far as he can tell. “What kind of information?”

Frankie laughs, shaking his head. “You get on your knees for me and I’ll tell you why I’m here.”

You shift your weight between your feet, swallowing roughly. He watches as you glance around, suddenly nervous. “Not here.”

Frankie is surprised, eyebrows raising before he smirks. It’s the first time he glances around, suddenly wondering if his friends were watching.

A giddy feeling in his chest squirms, eyes locking back on yours. “You know the motel a couple miles from here?”

You nod. When you look down to your shoes and kick a rock, he reaches back for you. His hand rests at your shoulder, fingers subconsciously rubbing at the back of your neck. “Two hours. Meet me at the front desk.”

You don’t agree, only swallow and take a step away from him.

He looks to the part of your chest that is exposed, smiling at the raised skin and shiver you try to hide. Maybe you were a whore after all.

“Hey.” He reaches for you again, holding you in place by your wrist. You don’t pull away, and he wants to tell himself it’s because you want him to touch you. “It’s Frankie.”

You try to smother a gasp, finally yanking your wrist out of his grip and turning toward the pathway again.

You’re three steps behind him, his back facing you as he knows that you won’t do anything to him. He’s broad, shoulders visible through the shirt that sticks to him from the humidity. A sweat stain rests at his lower back, darker than the rest of the fabric as the door swings open and he steps inside.

Meeting him at the front desk of the motel that you hoped he was referring to made you feel exposed. You had changed, having the security guard drive you back to Yovanna’s crash house for you to wash away the day. You had put on a more comfortable dress, longer but just a flowing, fluttering sleeves brushing your shoulders.

Frankie had looked for you immediately, taking only a couple steps into the lobby of this motel before tilting his head for you to follow. No words exchanged as he climbed the stairs to the third level, pulling out a key from his back pocket.

He turns to hold the door for you, motioning with his head of what he wants from you. This is the easy part.

When the door shuts behind you, the pressure in the air shifts to something looser, something calm. “You want a drink? Or are you on the job?” Frankie teases, smirking when you try your best to not give him any reaction.

“What have you got?” You question, stepping further into the motel room and scanning the bedside tables. Nothing of note besides a box of tissues that is limply standing under a yellowing lamp. You reach forward to adjust the box, noticing the redness from how hard you had been scrubbing at your arm and retreat.

“Whiskey or beer?” Frankie mumbles, leaning down to the mini fridge and pulling out both.

You shrug, accepting the first thing he blindly hands you and reading the label. He assumes beer for you, and as you open the top he unscrews the cap of the whiskey and watches you. He brings the drink up to his lips, taking a swig before offering you some.

You switch after taking your own sip of beer, giggling after a swish of the whiskey burns the back of your throat. “Both, I guess.”

He watches, a small smile appearing after you tap the glass of the bottle with your index finger. “Sometimes both is good after a long day.”

You nod, taking another swig before offering it back to him. You’re nervous, and you’re trying to shake the feeling. There’s a pause in the conversation, your eyes flicking over him before realizing he is doing the same to you.

How Frankie looks at you, how his eyes rake over you like he knows; he knows that you’re not local, he knows you have ulterior motives, he knows you aren’t who you say you are. He knows that you’re attracted to him.

You like that he doesn’t dwell on each individual bruise and cut, that he doesn’t bring attention to it. He just knows how to move around you to settle you, to get what he wants and give you something in return.

Even if it is purely transactional for him, you can’t help but enjoy it.

“Are you going to tell me why you hide in the jungle everyday?” You squeak out, clearing your throat before taking another sip of the drink in your hand.

Frankie smirks, shrugging. “I suppose it’s the same reason you go into that house, isn’t it?” He pauses, and you know he’s trying to catch a slip up. When you don’t respond, he does. “For the money.”

You ponder this, setting the beer on the table in front of you. “Who’s paying you?”

Frankie splutters, coughing as he attempts to swallow the whiskey that was in his mouth. He clears his throat, shaking his head. “That’s not your concern.”

“You said you would tell me.” You argue, a nagging voice in the back of your mind telling you to slow down, that this is dangerous to be this pushy.

“I said I would tell you what I was doing out there.” He corrects, standing up and setting the bottle down. He pulls his shirt over his head, shocking you into silence. “And I did-for the money. I didn’t even force you to give me a blowjob to give you the information.”

You feel your stomach churn again, nervousness spreading through you. His eyes rake over you, fingers traveling down his stomach to the button at his pants and snapping them open.

“Let’s shower.” He announces, setting your drink to the side and yanking on your arm roughly, pulling you towards the open door to the dimly lit bathroom.

Your heart races, standing with your hands wringing behind your back as the door clicks shut. Alcohol buzzes through your system, eyes flicking up to the mirror to watch as he strips his pants from his legs.

“Off.” He says harshly, leaning into the shower stall and starting the water. He turns back to you, hand reaching to the back of your dress where the zipper is.

You bite the inside of your cheek, moving your hands from their position behind you to hold on to the sink.

Frankie’s finger slides the zipper down, skimming his callouses over your bare shoulders and chuckling as you shiver uncontrollably.

You ignore him, turning and stepping around him into the shower and getting your hair wet for a moment before moving to the empty space to make room for him.

He crowds you as he steps in, eyes tracing over your body; assessing, controlled. Unconsciously you cover your chest with your arms, and he doesn’t stop you, only leans his head back into the stream of water.

He turns fully around, giving you a moment of faux privacy to look down to his ass. Your eyes widen as you realize what you are doing, unsure if you should actually be doing more. If you’re a whore, shouldn’t you be more eager? More willing to reach out and touch him.

He turns back around, your eyes snapping up to his face before trailing back down when you see his eyes are still closed under the stream. He’s half hard, already wider than you were expecting with dark hair trailing up to his belly button.

Over the tip of his nose water drips down onto his chest and swirls through his hair there. You swallow roughly, glancing up to his face again to see that he is now watching you. “Like what you see?” He asks calmly.

In spite of his voice being so calm, his breathing looks heavy, pupils blown wide as he reaches a soapy finger toward you. He trails from your shoulder, down your front to one breast, circling your nipple lightly. He flicks his eyes up momentarily, gauging your reaction before back down to look at you.

You inhale, unable to hear yourself over the sound of the water, over the sound of the exhaust fan barely operating above you. The air is thick with the humidity of the shower, his touch burning hot in comparison.

“Yes.” You admit, feeling yourself flush in embarrassment.

He licks his lip absentmindedly, pushing you back against the wall of the shower with one hand. “Let me feel.”

His fingers reach between your legs with no warning, gliding from clit to center and pushing the pad of his index in briefly. He sighs happily when he feels your own wetness, sticky and warm. “Knew you wanted me.”

You attempt to scoff, feeling this need to push back against him. This isn’t supposed to be happening; you wet before he even touches you, him coaxing you into a position that ultimately, you both want to be in.

He pulls his hand away, wrapping a hand around your hip and twisting you around, his cock resting heavy on one cheek of your ass.

He squeezes your hip, trailing his hand up to a breast before tilting your head to look at him over your shoulder. His smile sends a chill down your spine, and you close your eyes to block it out. “You can admit it, baby. You wanted me, yeah?”

“No.” You say quietly, peeking your eyes open again to see his head is tilting to get a better look at your face. A satisfied smirk is on his face, water beating down against his shoulders and splashing on to your lower back.

You moan lightly at the feeling of his fingers twisting your nipple around, his other hand spreading your cheeks apart. “Doesn’t matter, I paid for my time with you.”

It’s the last thing he says before he pushes himself forward, his cock hugged by your walls for only a brief moment before he pulls back again. He sets a fast pace, not bothering to take his time.

He grunts in your ear, forgetting his fingers and what he was doing before to focus on the task at hand. You prop yourself up, hands sliding on the wall in front of you as you bite your lip to keep yourself together. You don’t want to let him know that you enjoy this; you can’t-

“Quit that.” He breathes heavily, hand reaching up the front of your neck to pull your lip from your teeth. “Tell me it feels good. I want to hear you.”

You try to control your voice again, but fail miserably as his hand slides back down and squeezes lightly around your neck. You moan, his pace picking up as his lower stomach slaps harshly against your ass. “Fuck-i-it does. It feels good.”

“I know baby.” He groans, leaning back away from you to watch himself disappear into your center. “How are you this tight for me? This pussy feels too fucking good for you to be a whore.”

You know he’s trying to catch you in your lie. You can’t think straight with his cock deep inside you, with his hand around your throat, but you know he’s trying to get you to slip up.

Thankfully you don’t have to respond, feeling a tingling sensation travel down your neck and to the base of your spin. You reach down, circling your clit with wet fingers and breathe against the wall.

Without a warning to Frankie you come, moaning out his name over and over. You feel yourself squeeze rhythmically around him, his own thrusts pausing to feel it. He moans happily as your orgasm subsides, his pace picking back up at a speed he hadn’t been at before.

He pulls out, holding you still with one hand at your hip and the other pumping himself to completion. He groans out, his warm spend on your ass and lower back. “Fuck.” He bites, loosening his grip and taking a step back from you and further into the water.

You hold yourself up and stand, looking at him as he reaches for the soap and lathers it in his hands. He’s watching you, eyes heavy and blown out in lust still as his hands reach out to wash at where he finished on you.

It’s silent for a moment, warm water now spraying your side and his as he moves you around and washes himself and then you. “Do they let you come?” He asks quietly, voice gravely and deep.

You blink, thinking to yourself. It’s not a matter of whether or not they let you. “I can’t.”

He hums, taking the information and filing it away somewhere in his brain. You want to comment further, not wanting his ego to be boosted to high. But you stop yourself, letting him finish what he is doing, letting him turn off the water and help you dry off.

Nothing more is said between you as you redress yourself, slick your hair back into a hair tie, and grab your purse. You’re out the door before he has a chance to say anything else, already knowing that he’s made his payment to you.

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