#I bought this gorgeous dress but I need undershirt to go with it

[dashingwishes]

Honestly, wedding preparations are so much work. Finding the perfect dress, shoes, and jewelry.

Who’s doing your hair or makeup. It’s giving me massive anxiety. Someone hold me 🥹💖

[just-here-for-the-moment]

The Wedding Night

Word count: 4900+

Rating: explicit, 18+ only

Outline: Jack “Whiskey” Daniels x “You” (cis/het female reader; “blank canvas”/no physical description/no name/no use of “Y/N”)

Warnings: Jack running his filthy mouth; mentions of virginity and defloration; mentions of lack of experience; gorgeous lingerie; one light spanking; fingering/F receiving; oral sex/F receiving; oral sex/M receiving; unprotected P/V sex in the context of marriage; breeding kink; mentions of anal sex; mentions of blowjobs/gagging; mentions of sex toys/dildos; alcohol; marijuana

@quica-quica-quica - My love, this is what my brain did when we talked about me writing something for you that was "Xtra filthy Whiskey with a little fluff" ... You can drag me off to horny jail now, LOL. My work here is done! :D

A very special Thank You to @babypedrito for beta-reading and absolving me of all of my horny-jail sins.

---

"Are you nervous, honey?"

"No, I don't think so... well, maybe a little. Will it hurt?"

"Oh darlin' I hope not. I'll be real gentle with you."

---

The wedding had been elegant and fun and a little flashy, just like Jack.

The sheer number of guests had been stressful, but you had been blissed out all day, letting Jack spin you around the dance floor as many times as he could at the reception. You didn't want to start your wedding night exhausted, so you and Jack had opted for a mid-morning ceremony followed by a lunch reception. Statesman had splashed out for all of the liquor and an open bar, but you had been so busy greeting your guests and smiling for pictures that you hadn't had time to sip a full glass of champagne, let alone eat anything. The minute you and Jack arrived at your honeymoon suite, he had placed an order for room service and given you orders to eat, shower, and take a nap.

God, you loved that man. He was sassy and stubborn, but he did take excellent care of you.

When you woke, the last of the evening sun was streaming through your balcony doors. You stretched and yawned. The bed was empty, so you wandered out into the sitting room. Poor Jack was half-undressed and passed out on the sofa in front of a muted football game, the TV remote rising and falling on his chest as he snored softly. You shook his arm gently, "Baby?"

His dark eyes popped open and he smiled at you. "Hey, darlin'. Did you get some rest?"

"Yeah, Jack, I did. Thank you."

"Well I can't have you all tuckered out before we even get started. Wouldn't be gentlemanly of me." He winked at you.

You smiled at him and fluttered your eyelashes. "And are we going to get started soon? I'll need to change into my wedding night ensemble."

He sat up and grabbed your arm, pulling you down onto his lap as you squealed.

"Do you have to change? You look just fine as you are, honey."

You laughed. You had napped in an old undershirt of Jack's and nothing else except your wedding and engagement rings. You cooed softly at him as you rubbed your hand against his chest. "But Jack, baby, I bought it just for tonight. We only get to do this once, and I wanted to make it special for you."

He scowled as if he wanted to say no. You decided to pout your lower lip out just a little and sweeten your voice. "Please, baby? Please let me wear my special lingerie for you. It's my first request as your wife."

He pretended that he was giving in resentfully. "Alright, darlin'. If it'll make you happy."

You kissed him on the tip of his nose. "Oh, Jack. I think we'll both be very happy." You stood up off his lap and he swatted your bottom playfully.

"Now, now. None of that." You shook one finger at him playfully. "Just give me a few minutes and you can go lie down in the bedroom while I get ready. I'll meet you in there."

You bounced into the bedroom to grab what you needed, then locked yourself in the bathroom to freshen up. You heard Jack groan as he stretched and got up from the couch, soft footsteps moving to the bedroom. You caught your own eyes in the mirror and grinned. This was going to be so good.

It didn't take you long to get dressed, because your wedding night "ensemble" consisted of just three pieces. You had purchased an ivory-white babydoll nightgown with a big satin bow centered between the lace cups. The gown's skirt was billowy and entirely sheer, and the satin-ribbon hem hit you just at the top of your thighs. The back featured a slit from the band all the way down, forming a flyaway opening. There was a matching ivory lace thong with an open crotch, and you had found coordinating ivory marabou slippers with a kitten heel to tie things off. You were dressed in two minutes. All that was left was a quick touch-up of perfume and mascara, and a few deep breaths.

You opened the door a crack and called out to him. "You ready, baby? No peeking!"

"I'm not peeking."

You poked your head out to see Jack sitting against the pillows on the king-sized bed, hands dutifully placed over both eyes. You slunk out the door and stood at the foot of the bed, tucking and tugging the last tiny adjustments to your outfit. You put your fists on your hips and smiled at him. "Okay, you can look now."

Jack pulled his hands away and you saw his eyes take a half-second to refocus on you. When they did, his jaw dropped. He gave you one long look up and down, and you giggled and spun once to give him the full picture.

"Baby doll," he bit his lip and looked hungry. "You look good enough to eat. You did all that for me?"

You laughed. "All what, Jack? There's hardly any material here."

"Don't I know it." He whistled, long and low. "You want me to leave it all on or rip it off of you?"

You gasped and giggled. "You know I don't know what I'm doing. I guess I'll have to let you decide."

“Oh, baby girl... ” he shook his head and got up off the bed. “I don’t know if I can be in charge of such an important decision.”

“Well then, let’s just play it by ear and we can decide later.” You cocked an eyebrow at him as he wrapped his arms around your waist. “Because I am eager to get started.”

He smirked at you and tilted his head. “Is that so?”

“Yes, it’s one of the benefits of being Mrs. Jack Daniels. Now that you’ve made me an honest woman, I finally get to see what all the fuss is about.” You smiled shyly. “Unless, you don’t want to?”

“Now hold on a minute darlin’. You know I’ve been looking forward to tonight.” He kissed you. “I just want to do it right, that’s all. I wanna do right by my wife her first time.”

You bit your lip and looked up at him through your eyelashes. “I know you do, baby. I trust you.”

"Are you nervous, honey?"

"No, I don't think so... well, maybe a little. Will it hurt?"

"Oh darlin' I hope not. I'll be real gentle with you."

You smiled and leaned in for a kiss. Jack held you tenderly, taking his time and working your mouth slowly open before plunging in with an eager tongue. The kiss was nothing new to you. You and Jack had kissed like this hundreds of times… but now you were husband and wife, and it was your wedding night.

You let yourself melt into Jack’s embrace, and when the kissing got so good that you moaned, he smiled against your mouth. He moved his lips to plant kisses on your cheek and jaw and neck, murmuring to you in his low, gravelly drawl. “Are you ready?”

You nodded, and then released a breathy, “Yes, Jack. Yes, I’m so ready. Can we please go to bed?”

He pulled back. “Well, I need to know you’re really ready. We only get to do this once.”

You considered for a moment, biting your lip. “I do, I want to. But I’m a little nervous. Can I have some champagne? Just to relax.”

He nodded. “Okay, just one glass though.”

“Thank you, baby. I just want to relax a little bit, not get drunk or anything. I want to remember tonight for the rest of my life.”

He kissed your forehead. “Me, too darlin’.”

You sat on the bed as Jack went out to the living room to retrieve one of the “his and hers” champagne bottles that Champ had sent over, and two champagne flutes. He popped the bottle open and poured two glasses, then sat next to you on the bed.

“Cheers,” you said as you clinked your glass against his. “To us.”

“To us.” Jack sipped his champagne and wrapped his other arm around you, rubbing lazy circles into your back with his thumb. You loved his thick fingers and strong hands. You had seen what they could do with a dangerous whip and lasso, and you trusted him utterly with every part of your body.

When your glasses were empty, you felt a little looser, the edges of your nerves just barely blurred. You smiled at him and handed him your glass to set down on the bedside table. “I’m ready.”

He tucked his head down toward you, slotting his mouth over yours for a deep kiss. “Okay, we’ll get started. Lie down on the bed for me. Scoot back a little.” Jack stood up and faced you.

You lay back and scooted up so that your feet were flat on the bed. The hem of your nightgown slid up and pooled across your hips. Jack kneeled down on the plush carpet and stroked your leg with one strong hand. He lifted one foot and kissed the inside of your ankle softly. You shivered, and he repeated the action with your other ankle.

“Can I take these off?” He tapped the top of one slipper.

You lifted your head to look down at him. “Oh, yeah, sorry. I guess you should take them off.”

“Ain’t nothing to be sorry about, honey. You look amazing.” He slipped them off gently and tossed them theatrically over his shoulders, making you laugh.

“What should I do with my hands?” You wanted to know if you should be doing something other than leaving them palm-side down on the bedspread next to your hips. It felt stiff and awkward.

“Just relax,” said Jack. “You’re doin’ fine.”

You nodded, laying your head back down as he resumed stroking your shin.

“Can I touch you?” He slid his fingers a little higher, grazing the inside of your knee.

“Yes, please.”

He ran his fingers up to the inside of your thigh, sweeping your skin with a soft touch. Each graze of his fingers set your skin on fire, and you felt your anticipation build. You were getting wet; you could feel it, and you knew that it would help with what was coming next.

Jack paused his touch at the outer band of your thong, just at your pelvic bone. “Do you want to leave this on or take it off?

“I don’t know. Um, it’s crotchless, does that make a difference?”

“Not right now, but if it gets uncomfortable we can take it off.”

“Okay, just leave it on then... and thank you.”

“For what?” Jack stroked your lace-covered mound slowly. Little sparks of electricity flew everywhere, buzzing outward from wherever his fingers touched.

“For taking such good care of me. Especially on our wedding night.”

“Oh darlin’, I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he drawled. “I’ll take care of you for the rest of my life. I love you.”

“Oh Jack,” you sighed. “I love you, too.”

“I’m going to touch you between your legs now. Just breathe and relax, okay?”

“Okay.”

You felt Jack’s fingers stroke down over your clit and pet you softly there through the lace before moving down. He hooked a strap of the open crotch with his finger and pulled it to the side. The pad of one thick finger paused at your outer labia and you bit the inside of your mouth nervously.

“You ready?” Jack sounded calm.

“Yes, please, baby. Please touch me.”

He answered by spreading your outer lips open and rubbing a line gently up and down over the inner labia, spreading moisture as he went. You were practically dripping for him. He pressed one finger against your opening and applied gentle pressure, letting your slick do the work of guiding his fingertip inside. You felt his thick finger enter slowly, and when it was finally all the way in you exhaled.

“Is that okay, darlin’?”

“Yes,” you breathed out. “Yes, you feel so good.”

“Okay, I’m going to put another one in. You tell me if it’s too much for you, honey.”

“Yes, Jack.”

He pulled his finger out to the tip and you felt its neighbor join it. The pair pressed into you again, slower than ever. You felt so good, all of your nerve endings sparkling, the wetness growing and growing as Jack worked you open. You could do this forever.

“How are you doing, honey?”

Your voice came out half-whisper, half-gasp. “Ohhhh, Jackie. I feel so good.”

“You sure feel good down here, darlin’. Makes me want to taste you.”

“You can do that?”

“Yes, ma’am. If you give me the go-ahead, I’ll eat you out like a Sunday dinner.”

You laughed, and more tension left your body. “Okay. Yes, please eat me… Wait, can I call it that?”

“If you let me do it, you can call it whatever you want.” He chuckled. “You ready?”

“Oh yes.” You flung your arms up over your head and stretched. “I’m ready, baby.”

Jack left both fingers inserted and used his free hand to open the straps of your thong wider. You felt cool air hit your clitoris and you shuddered. Then Jack’s warm lips met your intimate center and you moaned.

“Oh, Jackie. You feel so good. I can’t believe we’ve never done this before.”

He pulled back, sounding almost plaintive. “You said you wanted to wait until the wedding night, darlin’. I was just followin’ orders.”

“Well I’m glad we’re doing it now.”

“Me, too.” He kissed your clitoris again and you gasped. The contact sent sparks racing up your spine. Your legs shook and threatened to close around his head.

“Keep ‘em open for me, darlin’. I want to see this pretty pussy as I taste it.”

You shifted your feet a little further apart. “Is this good?”

“Oh, it’s good, honey. You should see yourself, all spread out for me on our weddin’ night. If I’d known you were going to look like this, I would’ve married you the day we met.”

You lifted your head to look down at him again. “Are you going to keep talking, or are you gonna eat me?”

He didn’t answer, but plunged his tongue out to flick your clit . Your hips bucked and he pulled his fingers out gently. He reached up and tugged at the front of your thong. “Can I take this off? It’ll be easier access.”

“Yeah, go ahead.”

He hooked the side straps away from your hips and you lifted your butt to help him slide it off. He threw it to the side and wrapped his strong grip around your thighs as he lowered his mouth to you again.

His kisses and licks were urgent, an open-mouthed assault on your tender and swollen pussy as you writhed and squeaked. His iron grip on your upper legs kept you anchored to him, even as you shifted across the bedspread. You had no sense of time passing; it could have been seconds or minutes later when you felt your orgasm build until you thought you were going to snap.

“Jack! Oh fuck... Jack, I’m gonna come. I’m coming for you now!” Your moans and shouts didn’t phase him, he just kept licking and slurping at you as your pussy throbbed and clenched around his tongue. He slowed his pace just a little as you climaxed, and kept holding you tight as he kissed you more gently, bringing you down with him as you finally relaxed.

You came back to yourself after a few moments, your breathing slowing into something more normal. Jack lifted his head and relaxed his grip on you. “How was that, honey?”

“Oh, Jesus, Jack,” you gasped. “For chrissakes. I think I saw stars.”

He chuckled and stood up. His face was wet from nose to chin, mustache slick, hair mussed and eyes twinkling. He was absolutely wicked. You couldn’t believe he was finally yours.

You sat up and hugged him around his waist, resting one ear against his tummy. “Ohhh, thank you, Jack. That was absolutely wonderful.”

He petted your hair as you squeezed him. “You’re welcome, baby girl. Do you feel good?”

“Yes, Jack. Oh, I feel amazing.”

“Do you want to try now?”

You pulled away and looked up at him, eager to try anything he wanted. “Try what?”

Jack took a half step back and shed his suit pants, then his undershirt and briefs and socks. You watched as he undressed, taking in the sight of his strong arms and hands. Your eyes widened at the sight of his cock, growing bigger by the second. When he was naked he gave himself a few lazy pumps and then cupped your chin with his free hand. He looked deep into your eyes with that calm, authoritative manner of his.

“You just kiss it around the tip a little and then open your mouth, darlin’. I’ll show you what to do after that.”

You grinned and nodded up at him. “Okay.”

You looked back down at him, at his fist wrapped around the base of his hard, dark cock. Every pump of his heart was sending more blood to his erection. The head of his penis was nearly maroon, and you wanted more than anything to give him the release he had given you so freely.

You leaned forward hesitantly and placed a few soft kisses to the sides of the head, next to the slit of him that was growing damp. Tiny pecks turned into softer smooches, and Jack waited patiently while you got your fill of the experience. The sensation of his velvety skin on your lips was enticing, and you found yourself moaning and drawing out the kisses for longer and longer.

Finally Jack tapped your shoulder, indicating you to stop. He brought his large hand up to cup your chin gently. “You ready, honey? You can open up if you’re ready to try.”

You nodded and opened your mouth obediently, as wide as you could, tongue hanging out. Jack laughed gently.

“Relax, darlin’. You don’t have to unhinge your jaw. Just open up like you’re going to take a taste of something delicious, ‘cause you are.”

You relaxed, letting your mouth close a bit. Jack placed the tip of his penis just inside your lips and took his hand off your jaw. He let it rest on your tongue and then he slowly slid it from side to side as he shifted just a bit deeper.

“You can suck on it if you want, real gentle.” Jack’s voice was encouraging, his drawl low and husky.

You closed your lips gently around the head and gave one experimental suck, like a lollipop. Jack pumped his fist up and down gently, “That’s it, darlin’, real slow and soft.”

You switched between soft sucks of the head and open-mouthed licks, feeling awfully pleased at the huffy breaths and moans that were coming out of Jacks’ mouth above you.

“God, honeybee. Is this your first time giving a man a blowjob?”

“Mmm-hmm,” you hummed.

“Well, darlin’ you’re doing just fine.” Jack brought his free hand to cup the back of your head. “Are you ready to go deeper?”

You flicked your eyes up to him, giving him a wide, innocent stare as you pulled off. “Deeper? How deep does it go?”

“Oh, all the way, darlin’. I think you can fit all of me into that sinful little mouth of yours.”

You looked from his dark eyes to his penis and back again. “Are you sure? I won’t choke on it?”

“Oh, no. I’ll be gentle, honey. We’ll go real slow and get you used to it.”

You nodded and opened your mouth again. Jack placed the head of his penis back on your tongue and you closed your lips gently around it. He removed his fist and then placed both hands on the sides of your head.

“Go slow, honey.”

You looked back up at him to see that he was gazing at you tenderly, enchanted by the sight of his cock disappearing into your soft mouth. He grinned softly at you. “Just go slow.”

You closed your eyes so that you could concentrate on it. He held your head gently between his big hands as you relaxed your jaw and throat, trying to take him as deep as you could. When the head hit the back of your tongue, Jack held it there and moaned soft praises to you.

“Oh baby girl, you are just perfect. Look how I fit in that sweet little mouth of yours.”

You glowed at his praises and pressed just a bit deeper. When the head hit the back of your throat, Jack made a soft hiss and pulled himself out.

You looked at him with wide eyes. “Did I do okay, baby?”

“Oh honey, yes. You did great, but if we keep doing that I’m not gonna last long, and we won’t get to the main event.”

You giggled. “Okay, where do you want me baby?”

“Why don’t you lie back on those big pillows and just relax, darlin’.”

You scooted up to the top of the bed and lay flat. “Like this?”

“Yes, darlin’. Just like that, pretty as a picture.” Jack knelt on the bed and crawled up to you. He reminded you of some jungle cat stalking its prey. He was going to devour you.

“Do I need to take my nightgown off?”

“Only if you want to, but it won’t get in my way.”

You nodded. “Then I’ll leave it on, I like it.”

“That’s fine with me, honey. Are you ready for me?”

You nodded vigorously. “Yes, Jack. I’ve been waiting so long. Please.”

He lay next to you and stroked you from hip to breast, cupping you through the lace before running his hand back down. He lifted the hem of your nightgown and pressed two thick fingers to your entrance. “You’re still so wet for me, but I have lube if you need it.”

You shook your head, “No, I think I’ll be okay.”

He assented. “Alright, but if you need it, you just say so and I’ll stop.”

“Okay, baby.” You cupped his jaw and kissed him deeply. “I love you, my husband.”

His face broke into a soft smile. “And I love my wife. Can’t believe I’m so lucky.”

“To find a virgin for your wedding night? Something special to deflower, that no one else has ever touched?”

“No, just to find you.” He kissed your forehead. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Even if you weren’t a virgin I’d still love you, still be the luckiest man alive to have you on my wedding night.”

Tears sprang to your eyes at his tender words, threatening to overspill. “Oh, Jack. I love you so much.”

He continued caressing you with his fingers. “I love you, honey. You think you’re ready for me now?”

“Yes, Jack, please please please. Right now.”

“Alright.” He shifted up to hover over you. “Just open your legs and relax your hips. I’ll be extra gentle.”

You did as he asked, releasing one slow breath out through an o-shaped mouth. He pressed the tip of his penis to your opening, then looked at you one last time with eyebrows raised for permission. You nodded and said, “Go ahead.”

He pressed in slowly, stretching you open. He felt so big and hard and glorious as he slid between your walls. The wetness in your core provided so much glide that he got all the way inside before you even realized it. He bottomed out and stopped, holding himself up on his arms to look into your eyes. You could feel your own slick mixed with Jack’s saliva drip down between your cheeks.

“Are you alright, darlin?”

You smiled, “Oh, I’m more than alright, Jack. My husband just took my virginity on our wedding night.”

He leaned down and kissed you. “I’m going to start moving in and out now, but if you need me to stop, just say so.”

You nodded. Jack started easing his hips in and out, and you could feel every steel inch of him sliding in and out. You felt another orgasm starting to build. “Oh, Jackie, I think I’m going to come for you again. Can you touch me down there?”

He shifted back to his knees and reached one broad thumb to swipe your clit. “God, honey, you’re so wet for me.”

You barely heard him as the room started to get fuzzy. You felt the dam threaten to burst, and you managed to gasp out, “I’m co-” before you bucked your hips again and came hard, clenching around his cock as he slowly pumped in and out.

“Oh fuck, baby girl. You should see yourself. That greedy little pussy is trying to eat me alive. I’m not gonna last much longer. Can I go faster?”

You moaned, “Oh my god, yes. Go for it.”

Jack took his finger off your clit and pumped just a little faster. “Oh fuck, baby girl. Where do you want me to come?”

“Inside, Jack. We’re man and wife now. You can fill me up and I’ll give you gorgeous babies.”

“Oh honey, I just want to fuck you and watch you get so round. You’re going to be pregnant before you know it.”

“Yes, Jack! Yes!”

“You gonna have my babies? You want all of me?” His words were exhaled in rough gasps. “I’m gonna fuck a baby into you. You won’t be able to get rid of me, you gorgeous girl. Gonna carry a part of me around with you for the rest of your days.”

You felt one more impossible rush of slick dripping from your pussy at his words, and you simply moaned, incapable of speech.

Jack suddenly fell onto you, face buried in your neck, and you felt him thrust hard and then stop. Something hot was releasing inside your pussy, and you whimpered and stroked the back of his head.

“Oh, Jack. I think I love you.”

He groaned into your shoulder, the words muffled. “I love you, too, darlin’.”

---

“Jesus Christ, Jack. That was amazing.” You took a sip of your champagne and passed the joint over to his side of the bed. “That was better than that time in Cancún!”

Jack laughed and choked on his toke, then passed it back to you. “God, I loved Cancún.” He took a long drink of champagne. “Was that the time I fucked you so hard the neighbors called the cops?”

You giggled. “No, that was that shitty little hostel in Amsterdam while we were on assignment, remember?” You took another puff and thought while you held it in, then you blew out a long string of smoke. “No, wait, it was Belgium.”

“That was fun.” Jack grinned to himself. “Remember Italy?”

“Which time? The yacht off the coast, or that blow job outside the Colosseum that one time at 3 a.m.?” You passed the weed back to him.

“Oh, Christ, honeybee. I forgot about the Colosseum.” He took a long toke and another thoughtful sip from his glass. “But that yacht was fucking amazing. I was balls-deep in you under that blue Mediterranean sky. God, you were so sexy in that little swimsuit you were wearing. Made me wanna marry you right there.”

“Aw, you old softie. You’re such a sweetheart.”

He handed the roach back to you to finish. “Remember L.A.? You looked so good gagging on my cock in that bathroom, mascara runnin’ all down your face. I almost felt bad it was a convenience store. I should have taken you back to the hotel first.”

“No way! That was hot. I had that plug in my ass all day, and you did me just fine when we got back. I couldn’t sit right for three days.” You threw your head back and laughed, nearly upsetting the bottle of champagne and the Altoids tin full of joints sitting on your lap.

Jack reached a hand out to steady the bottle. You fished a fresh joint out of the tin and closed the lid. A thought occurred to you as you lit it.

You exhaled and turned to him with wide eyes. “Holy shit, Jack. I should’ve bought my vibrating panties. Maybe we can run out tomorrow and buy a new pair.”

“Nah, they never get you off right. You said they move around too much.” He took the joint from you and drained the last of his champagne. “How about a new vibrator instead?”

“Okay, but tomorrow night it’s your turn to be the virgin.”

He exhaled a huge lungful of smoke and passed the joint back to you, waving his hand to indicate he was done. “Alright, but you have to promise not to be gentle. Can we do college professor and failing student?”

“Mmmm…” you thought for a moment. “Yes, but only if I get to spank you.”

“You got it, honey.”

You leaned over and kissed him. “God, I love my husband.”

He smiled at you and took your empty glass. “I love you, darlin’.”

--- Just-here-for-the-moment’s masterlist

My “all fics” tag list: Please DM me if you would like to be removed!

@anaaaispunk @justanotherblonde23 @gracie7209 @nicolethered @honestly-shite @driedgreentomatoes @dihra-vesa @1800-fight-me @the-queen-of-fools @juletheghoul

@kesskirata @honeymandos @silverwolf319 @mourningbirds1 @greeneyedblondie44 @spacedilf @maxwell–lord @anxiousandboujee @cevvie @quica-quica-quica @sherala007 @writeforfandoms @libellule2001

[starlightrows]

A Snowy Surprise

Pairing: Din Djarin x reader

Word Count: 977

Tags: Established relationship, bed sharing, domesticity, family time

Summary: How wonderful to wake up to fresh snow   

AN: Happy Friday! This is the first of my new mini series I’m trying out inspired by different kinds of weather settings. I was originally planning to start with a sunny spring time short fic, but when I woke up to a foot and a half of snow this morning I knew it was a sign from the universe I had to change my plans a little bit. 

The planet your little trio was currently stopped on was in its last weeks of winter. Spring seemed to be in the air. And while the temperatures were still quite cold, the sun shone brightly during the day. And extra layer of clothing for you and your little green child was all that was needed to continue playing outside in the sparse forest the Crest is parked in. You wondered how Din was fairing during the cold nights with only his underclothes and beskar for warmth. He hadn’t commed you yet, but that wasn’t abnormal for him. Especially since he didn’t think this quarry would take very long. 

You had built a small fire just outside the Crest in the late afternoon, longer you and the child could stand to be outside, the more fuel you would have to run the engines and the heating system through the cold night. The baby seemed content to sit in your lap, eating pieces off the loaf of bread you had bought a few days ago. This night seemed a little colder than usual, and a steady breeze seemed to be picking up. Grogu shivered in your lap, and sure sign that it was time to turn in for the night. 

“Come on ad’ika, wanna come snuggle in the big bed?” You asked him, giving him a little jiggle to get his attention. He gave a chirpy response, climbed up to your shoulder. You stood up, and used a stick to spread out the dying coals from the fire. You kicked some dirt over the top of the ashes, just to make sure no stray embers got caught in the breeze. 

You took Grogu back into the ship, and tucked him into your bunk. “I’ll be right back,” you told him. 

You climbed up into the cockpit and powered on the ship. The engines roared to life, and the heating kicked on. The warmth felt good on your chilled skin, it was colder outside than you realized. You stripped out of your day time clothes, and pulled on one of Din’s large comfortable undershirts. 

Grogu looked so sweet all cuddled up under the blankets peaking out at you with massive dark eyes. 

“Awe, are you cold baby?” You laughed a little, climbing into the bunk. “Come here love,” you scooped him up in your arms bringing him into your chest. 

You get under the covers and turn onto your side, holding Grogu in a gentle embrace. “You wanna do a story?” You asked quietly. He cooed in agreement, burrowed further into you. You told him a story from your childhood, a happy story of playing with other children and thinking you’d found buried treasure. Grogu was sound asleep by the time you were finished, and even you were nodding off by the end of it. Before falling asleep, you checked the com link one last time. Nothing. You decided if he didn’t com in by tomorrow afternoon, you would com him. 

As it turns out, you didn’t need to com him. You awoke some time later to the sound of the carbonite freezer activating in the darkness. You assumed it was Din, and considered sitting up to greet him, but your body was so tired you just couldn’t bring yourself to do it. You faded in and out of consciousness for a while, truly trying to say awake so you could properly greet him. Eventually the warmth of his body filled the tight bunk space, and he slid beneath the covers beside you. 

You grumbled out some sort of incoherent greeting, but even in your own mind you couldn’t figure out what you were trying to say. He answered you, but you were already asleep again. 

You wake again to Din lightly shaking your shoulder. “Wake up, I have to show you something,” he says, sounding way too enthusiastic for morning time, and completely out of character for him. 

“What?” You mumbled in sleepy confusion “what’s wrong,” 

“Come on, you have to see this,” he said ducking out of the bunk. You open your eyes fully, and look around to find that Grogu isn’t there. 

You stuck your head out of the bunk, and found yourself struggling not to fall out of it from the wave of laughter that hits you. Grogu is wearing all of his layers, and one of your scarves wrapped around his whole body. He looks like a little puff of popped corn, and so incredibly adorable. 

“Stars, why on earth is he dressed for Hoth?” You asked through a laugh. Din stands nearby, wearing his thermal layers without his beskar, he hits a button the side panel activating the door.

Freezing cold air rushes in, but you don’t even care. Because you are met with a view of the forest trees. Limbs hanging heavy with thick coats of pristine white snow. You gasp, unable to help the smile spreading across your face. 

“Snow started falling just about when I got back last night,” he told you “but I had no idea it was going to dump this much snow on us,” 

“It’s gorgeous! I haven’t seen snow like this since I was a kid,” you exclaimed “Give me 2 minutes to get dressed, then I’ll go take the baby out to play,” 

Din chuckles, and scoops up Grogu who is furiously trying to get outside to play in this new environment. 

“Put on a hat too, it’s still snowing,” he called over his shoulder, taking Grogu down the ramp. You hastily pulled on a second pair of fitted pants, the only coat you own, boots, and of course a hat. 

A thin layer of snow was already covering the ramp, and you slid down on the heels of your boots. Giving a whoop of joy, before running off to play with Din and the baby.

[jemej3m]

Right but what if in married to the enemy non of them recognize Neil and just think of him as Andrews husband which leads to increasingly comedic Dramatic Irony(TM) scenes like Neil would be stopping by to drop something and some perp is like “hey isn’t that nath-“ *cue Andrew ‘accidentally’ shoving him* like idk I know you’re done with that fic but I just read it and I can’t stop thinking about how funny that would be

bruh

stop bringing things back from the dead yall

(FINALLY some WRITING and not just asks - im so sorry ive been starving you all)

*

“Andrew!” Detective Jeremy Knox bounced on the balls of his feet. “I’m so thrilled to have you here. Kevin Day has spoken...” his smile nearly slipped. “Highly! Of you.”

“Here’s the file,” Andrew grunted, dropping the thick yellow slip onto the detective’s desk. “You need to get rid of them before they settle in. Once they’ve grown roots you’ll never get rid of them till they decide to move again.”

“I know,” Jeremy said, voice slightly hushed. “We’ll bring justice to your Baltimore victims. This won’t be swept under the rug.”

Andrew just stared at the file. He’d worked on that ring for three years now, but they’d upped and vanished. When they’d reappeared in Captain Rhenmann’ s New York precinct, Kevin had booted him up there to get a resolution.

It also, coincidently, was the exact week Neil was due up in New York to finalise his ‘retirement’. Andrew may or may not have arranged for him to be in New York for Neil’s support whilst he finally wriggled out of the Moriyama’s grasp.

Finally, after a decade and a half together, Neil would be free. Baltimore would no longer require a Butcher to instil terror. Neil had worked hard to free their city from Ichirou Moriyama’s grasp, buying both himself and his jurisdiction out of internment.

And once Neil was free, they could finally bring down the Moriyamas. Together.

Andrew wasn’t in a rush. Slow and steady always won the race: he would bring down the criminal empire that had trapped his husband for so long and marred his skin and mind with memories of terror and injustice. And he would enjoy it.

“Would you like to have lunch with us?” Knox gestured to the two women, standing close enough to eavesdrop but pretending they weren’t. They were married, Andrew guessed. It was pretty obvious. “We were just about to head out. There’s a hidden bodega near the the station with pastrami that’s to die for.”

Andrew checked his phone. No messages from Neil, as of yet. He’d text when he was on his way back to the hotel, and there was no use in Andrew hanging around and anxious awaiting his arrival. He’d convince himself that the Moriyamas had finally put a bullet through Neil’s forehead and go rampaging.

“Fine,” he grunted, shoving the phone back into his pocket.

Detective Sunshine just beamed.

*

“Day mentioned you were married,” Alvarez said, swallowing a mouthful of sub. “Who’s the lucky guy?”

Andrew arched his eyebrow, unimpressed. She rolled her eyes.

“You’ve got him as your home screen. It’s not hard to guess. You out at your precinct?” Andrew nodded. “Yeah, so are we.”

“If we didn’t have Captain Rhenmann, I’m sure it’d be a lot more stressful.” Laila added, rubbing her wife’s shoulder. “He speaks very highly of your captain, you know. I think they worked together with the old NYPD commissioner. Kayleigh Day.”

Yes, Kevin’s mother. The one who was murdered twenty years ago. A riveting case. Still unsolved. Neil was pretty sure it was his father who’d been assigned to her removal. Not that Andrew would ever discuss this aloud.

“I heard she was one hell of a woman,” Knox added. “If her son’s anything to go off, I can see why.”

“Stop gushing about Kevin,” Alvarez chided.

“Don’t worry,” Andrew grunted. “Kevin’s undoubtedly worse.”

The three of them laughed. They ate in companionable silence, Knox and Alvarez occasionally jostling each other or gossiping about names Andrew didn’t know. It was nearing 2 o’clock in the afternoon when the detective’s phone buzzed: he leaned over, checked who it was from and immediately scrambled to pick it up.

Knox squinted at the message and shot the three of them an apologetic look. “My bad. I’ve gotta make a call. I’ll meet y’all back at the station?”

He left without an answer, phone raised to his ear.

“He’s a parole officer for a very specific case,” Alvarez explained. Laila was frowning. “A difficult one, at that.”

“Seems a little more involved than a parole officer usually is,” Andrew noted.

“Yes, well,” Laila huffed. “Jeremy likes to care.”

Andrew got a text of his own. Coming back now.

He bid the women goodbye with a salute and bought a sandwich for Neil: he was unlikely to have already fed himself, too stressed and paranoid to bother thinking about food. He always came back from New York weak and underfed.

When Andrew arrived back to their hotel room, Neil was lying on his back, staring at the ceiling. His shirt was untucked and tie loosened, but he hadn’t even bothered to take his shoes off or put away the briefcase of paperwork and knives.

Andrew put the food aside for later and sat by his husband, toeing off his shoes so he could cross his legs on the bed.

When Neil didn’t talk, he leaned over and turned on the television. A random afternoon sitcom filled the room with white noise, bringing Neil out of his glacial stare. Finally, his eyes flit over to Andrew, aware but still hollow.

Andrew reached out to undo Neil’s cuffs but waited for him to deposit his wrist in Andrew’s palm. He got to work, unbuttoning the sleeves, pulling off the tie and throwing the shoes over to the door. The dress shirt was wriggled off, leaving him in just a white undershirt, and draped across the chair to be steam-ironed in the morning. Neil wormed out of his slacks, too, letting Andrew fold them and put them away.

Andrew made him a cup of decaf instant coffee and brought out the sandwich. Neil looked at both of them balefully but sat up anyway, getting through the whole coffee and only half the sandwich.

Andrew waited, sitting behind him. When he was finished he laid back down, putting his head in Andrew’s lap.

“Thank you,” he mumbled.

Andrew just hummed, combing his fingers through Neil’s hair.

*

The end of the week came quickly. Andrew worked the case with Knox and eventually decided that the case would be in good hands. Every evening he’d come back to find Neil just as exhausted and spaced out and hold him together with soft hands and silent reassurance. Neil soldiered on.

Andrew didn’t know what he was negotiating, why it was taking so long or whether or not this would actually work. All he could hope for was that Neil would be a free man by the end of the week and that they could go home without worrying he’d be called back or killed.

Andrew got his answer on Friday evening. He bid the affectionately named ‘Dyke Detectives’ and their captain goodbye, knowing Knox had briefly left the building for an errand and assuming that they’d pass on his thanks.

He exited the front doors of the precinct and nearly stumbled into his husband, standing in jeans and a hoodie with a blinding grin. Andrew never forgot how gorgeous Neil was, but the ease of his posture and the genuine smile had something go soft inside his chest.

He ignored all the beat cops standing around the doors and pressed a kiss to Neil’s smile, which only had him smile more.

“It’s done,” Neil murmured, holding Andrew’s wrist. “I’m free. We’re free.’’

“Took you long enough.”

Neil shrugged. “Had to barter for Allison, too. I know Renee wants to make it official.”

“Only a decade later,” Andrew agreed. Of course Neil hadn’t been fighting tooth and nail for himself: he’d do anything for those he loved.

“Holy shit,” came an unfamiliar voice. They both turned around, spotting a willowing man standing next to Detective Knox. His pale complexion had turned translucent, all the blood draining out of his cheeks. Neil’s eyes flashed with recognition. “Nathaniel—?”

“It’s Neil,” Neil said, still smiling. “Hello, Jean. Good to see you were cleared. Did they find Riko’s actual killer?”

The man did not look any less uncomfortable. “They ruled it a suicide.”

“Ah, shame. Maybe some more evidence will come to light, later.” He offered his hand to Andrew. “Shall we?”

It would be a long drive to Baltimore but at the other end was home, two cats and freedom.

Andrew, older, wiser, calmer, happier, took Neil’s hand.

“We shall.”

*

[virgil-writes]

ash & soot

Long before the Winters come into play, a monster stalks the Forbidden Forest that surrounds the Village. Karl Heisenberg is sent to investigate, and heads deeper into darkness to find his prey, a thorn on his side and someone just like him. (Heisenberg x OC)

on AO3: chapter one | chapter two | chapter three | chapter four | chapter five | chapter six | chapter seven (ao3 only) | chapter eight

chapter 8 - great expectations

SFW, but usual blood/gore warning. around 3.5K words.

He barely remembers getting dressed and returning to his quarters after such a relaxing shower. At some point he had slipped inside his pants and slid an undershirt on, thrown himself at the desk chair and poured over plans and schematics, a mess of paper and far more motor oil than necessary. He had written and read until his eyes had grown tired, like every other night, fighting off sleep to the best of his ability. He could sleep when he was dead, or when she was dead, when he was far away from this hellhole, when nothing awaited him come morning.

Some nights he would skip it altogether, keep his eyes wide open when his mind was too fraught with dreadful thoughts. He knew what would come if he finally closed his eyes, the memories that he worked so hard to put away. A dream, it was only a dream, he would tell himself over and over, but it was hard to believe it when he would wake up drenched in sweat and tears, throat sore from screaming at the top of his lungs, that all too familiar twinge of sadness and terror balling up in his chest. It was hard to believe and hard to forget, because he would see it when he held the wrench, when he brought a cup to his lips, when he pressed the buttons to get the conveyor belt running. His hands shook, his fingers lost their strength, and then we would remember it all. It was not real, but it had been once, and he is unsure whether the knowledge makes things better or worse.

Heisenberg remembers nothing but the familiar tingle on his fingertips, the numbness that overtook him, anxiety and fear washing over him like he had been engulfed in a sea of darkness. The scribbles on the paper would be evidence of how he had lost control the night before, how he had pressed the pencil hard to try and force himself to focus, to keep going. The cut on his forehead would tell him that he exhaustion had taken the reigns and he had fallen face first into the table, head hitting the metal clamp and inadvertently helping lull him to sleep.

Much to his surprise, that night, when Heisenberg closed his eyes, he was greeted with the blissful sight of nothing. Head void of dreams, of nightmares, body protesting with the awkward way he’d scattered over his work station, but nothing else. The cut had stained some papers with blood and drool had ruined some others; his arms felt numb in the morning, as they had been left hanging off the desk with his head and neck as the only support. It took him a good few stretches of his hands to feel his fingers again - all things considered, this had been a much better night than most.

If the night was almost-pleasant, the morning was anything but. A hot gust of air blew in when the factory kicked into gear with full force, like it did every day around this time, the whirring of blades and purring of engines his usual white noise. Only this time there was an intruder, a high pitched, repetitive sound that threatened to pierce his eardrums - he woke up to the incessant sound of his phone ringing. The thing sat just inside his office, an old landline that Miranda had insisted on him keeping in case she needed to speak to him urgently. She would call him every now and again, but more often than not it was his siblings that would bother him. Moreau would call to ask if he had found any old VHS tapes or old fiction books, Donna would ask him for blades and all manner of crazy-looking schematics built. Alcina rarely called, but given her interest in the bloodsucking beast that prowled the woods, he was certain that would change very soon.

Not that he intended to answer any of them, naturally. Nine times out of ten he was nowhere near the dumb phone to answer, which made Mother angry and him even angrier, because the last thing he wanted was to interrupt important research to tend to any of their petty, cruel whims. When she called, invariably he would be thrust into something barbarous and despicable; she wanted someone kidnapped, or killed, or turned into a monstrosity. She wanted him to spy or intimidate, put on his best scary mask and drill the fear of the Black God into someone’s mind. She never once asked if his research went well, if he was doing well, and though it had been years of such abuse, he could not help but feel the sting of it every time he heard her speak. Somewhere deep down, he still held onto a sliver of hope that she cared; and she would always dig deeper and deeper, until she found it and choked his feelings to death.

Heisenberg lazily lifted his head, right arm coming up to wipe away the drool at the corner of his mouth, eyes hurting under the bright industrial lights coming in through the window. A strand of hair had sneaked into his eye when he blinked, such a small nuisance upsetting him even further, a simple strand of hair that felt like the devil’s toothpick stabbing his eyeball. The phone had stopped for a few seconds only to resurge like the wailing of a baby, and the ringing prompted him to shoot up and off his armchair in a flash, too disoriented and uncomfortable to fully register what was going on. He almost fell on his way to the phone, tripping over his unbuttoned pants, annoyance levels rising with every step. He rubbed his eyes as he approached the offending object, flicked the room’s light on like it would help him hear better. At least it would keep him awake.

“Heisenberg,” came the voice from the other side, sweet and soft-spoken, domineering and stubborn. “Any news on our quarry?” Our quarry, he mouthed to himself mockingly. As if any of it was a team effort, as if he had anything to gain from this little adventure. Well, as it turns out, he did, but lady super-sized bitch didn’t need to know that. The damn hair was still stuck somewhere between his eyelashes. “A little bird told me you left the forest quite late last night.” A little bird would die a horrible, horrible death as soon as he discovered who it was that had agreed to his sister’s asinine plan of meddling in his business.

“Oh hey, sis. Surprised you get reception all the way up there.” He heard her huff of annoyance, chuckled in response. It bought him enough time to figure out exactly what he would tell her. Hey, yeah, turns out your monster is actually this gorgeous lady with a pair of tits big enough to rival any fertility goddess’? “Slippery little thing, that monster of yours. Found some bodies, some blood,” truth was always easier to tell than lies. “Caught a glimpse of something, too, but it disappeared in the middle of the trees before I could grab it. Little shit gave me the loop, took me quite a while to find the way back.” Heisenberg could practically hear her chest rising and falling as she breathed excitedly, happy to hear something, anything, even if it was a blatant lie. He could hear her nails hitting against wood impatiently, stringing together a tune he did not recognize. “What do you want with this thing anyway, needing a new pet?” Quite the funny thought, really. He was suddenly curious to know if the little witch would put up a fight as a tight collar was snapped around her neck.

“Am I right to assume you will return to the forest soon for another search?” Oh, most definitely, though his intentions were far different from what she expected. She continued without waiting for his answer, clearly aware that he would retort in the crassest manner possible. “I will see you handsomely rewarded once I have it in my possession, brother. House Dimitrescu does not forget such acts of service.” And there it was, brother, the greatest honor she would grant him, a compliment reserved for moments like these, when she desperately needed his help and no one else’s would do.

Blah, blah, blah. What was she going to offer him, a maiden? A scrawny lady with bruises big enough to make one believe her skin was purple, bones showing through her ribs and threatening to poke out at any moment? He had long decided against experimenting on women - they were always so weak and fragile, he would tell himself. Had long left behind his whoring days, too, far too focused on his research to let himself be distracted by a pair of tits. Oh, right; the irony. What else could she give him? A casket of wine made of blood of an innocent, with its thick bouquet of brutality and mercilessness?

She could offer him riches, influence, her undying loyalty. The only reward he wanted was to see her fractured into a thousand tiny pieces, nothing left of her and her daughters but the crystal cores they would dissolve into. The jewelry he would keep, the crystals he would sell to the Duke for a hefty price; the dust he would gather, send to an artist to mix into paint and commission a portrait of himself in his best work attire, his beat up trench coat and ragged hat. To make a statement, his fly would be open and his dick out in the painting, forever immortalizing him as the large, hard Lord of the Castle. With the money he would buy the best brewery he could find and have it make the worst beer, call it Lady D’s Fresh Piss, all in her honor, naturally.

He would bring over his suitcase and set up shop in the castle, tear down every reference to the Dimistrescu family and replace it with cheap replicas of innocent, idyllic landscapes, and dozens of horrible quality photos of his face. The extra large milk pail she called a hat would be used for entertainment when he gathered guests over, shoot the ball into the dead lady’s hat or take another shot. His soldats would clean house, kill every last monster in the basement, replace those god-awful torture tools with something else, anything else - maybe pigs, to pay homage to his dear sister. He would then fire all maids and forbid them from ever setting foot inside the place again, hire an all-male crew to tend to the estate and leave him well enough alone. On a clear day he would grab all of their expensive dresses, the paperwork that dignified her as gentry, her snob literature and photo albums, pile them all into the courtyard and burn it all, the vineyard alongside it, then light his cigar in the blaze and smoke it while facing the inferno, the flames reflecting beautifully on the lenses of his glasses. Once it had all turned to cinders he would strip before going through the front door, waltz around the place while rubbing his dick on all of her favorite spots. He would dump all of her fine wine in the biggest, smelliest cesspool, grab the revenue from the last shipment and throw it from atop the church in the village to watch the peasants fight each other for riches that were supposed to be hers.

Perhaps best of all, he would invite Alcina’s little monster over, encourage her to come in while dragging all the dirt and mud gathered on her bare feet. He would give her a tour of the castle, allow her to decorate every room with a harvest wreath or handmade candle, let her cover the posh couches with handmade quilted throws. Together they would roll up the fancy carpet and throw it in the fireplace, lay down the most unrefined of straw tapestries in its place. The mantle would be a display of their crudeness and peasantry, his schematics and forgotten bits of scrap metal, her incenses and rune-inscribed bones and whatever else her little heart desired. He would allow her to have her pick of his sister’s jewelry, try and convince her to take them all, to wear nothing but her favorite set as she danced under the skylight of the atelier, the flames of all tolling bells and the bright shine of the moon as the only source of light for their unholy, delicious rituals.

When silence settled he would grab her waist and pull her closer, whisper in her ear the most delectable of invitations. Together they would desecrate every last corner of the castle, from the halls to the belfry and the stairwells to the balconies, the cries of agony the place had come to be known for replaced by their sounds of pleasure. When they were far too tired to continue they would work together in the kitchen, he would help her prepare a bloodless meal that they would savor watching the wide open doors to the courtyard. He would sit at Alcina’s spot, ignore every single piece of flatware and eat with his bare hands, audibly chew on every morsel. He would draw every curtain and open every window, let the gelid gale wipe away any trace of her and her daughters. Late at night, he would carry his prized lady up the stairs to her quarters, gently place her on the giant bed and cover her with the decadent expensive sheets. She would ask him to stay, and he would, hold her close as she slumbered and he stared at the top of the canopy and let out a tired sigh almost a hundred years in the making. He would be free, and he would have claimed it all, a fitting end to his sordid tale.

If he wasn’t sure Alcina would rise from the grave and put herself back together out of sheer spite, the whole thing didn’t sound half bad.

Heisenberg barely registered whatever she said after, far too immersed in his little happy place to give a shit. She had talked for what seemed like hours, something about training the beast to present it to Mother Miranda, to allow her to experiment and find out what sort of things they could learn of such a splendorous mutation. Some illusions of grandeur sprinkled here and there, the very obvious wish to become the best, most adored child. He felt like Alcina wished Mother would descend upon her in a ray of light, to lift her up and away towards the heavens to take a place at her side. What a load of crap, though he had to admit it was far more than he would have given her credit for when she came up with this sordid little plan.

At some point, she finally realized she had said too much, exposed too much of her grand plan, had become too excited with the prospect of having that admiration within her reach. That, or she had grown tired of sounding too friendly with the riffraff. She quickly finished saying her piece and hung up without waiting for him to say goodbye, wishing him good luck on the hunt, reminding him she had great expectations. As did he.

He found his mind wandering back to his little witch in the woods as he placed the handle back on its hook. Where did she even come from, anyway? Was she born in that miserable place, brought up among the failed experiments of this village in middle of nowhere, Romania? Did she know how to use money, or were the lei they used foreign to her? He had it in good confidence that she could read, considering all the books he had seen around, but did she know how to write? Had she ever seen electricity at work, or had her life been lived under candlelight? Could she drive a car? Operate a telephone? Did she have toilet paper in her outhouse or did she wipe her ass with ferns or something of the sort? How did she find out about nail polish, of all things?

Had she ever lived outside that lousy shack? Did she ever get a taste of luxury, of fine wine, scrumptious desserts, someone to cook and feed her, maidens to attend to her? Had she always worked the land and tended to livestock, gathered herbs and berries in the forest? Had she cared for her parents or grandparents and learned her trade then, offered her services to lice-ridden villagers when they were no longer in the picture? Had they ever met, some day when he was too busy with his own sorrow to notice her, to take in the beauty that had come to haunt him so? Had she ever shared her body with someone, with a lucky lad or lass that caught her vulnerable and willing on a lonely night? Did she… Did she think of him, as much as he had begun to think of her?

Her shroud of blood and mystery, alongside Alcina’s excitement over the prospect of having her torn apart, had a strange feeling seep within his bones, a pang of anguish tugging at his heartstrings. All the more reason for him to hide the truth for as long as he could - even if the witch turned out to be just really clever with herbs and some hallucinogens, he wouldn’t give dear sister the pleasure of sinking those rusty nails into her flesh. Not when he had so much to discover.

Finally alone with his thoughts and away from his fantasies, he looked down at himself to see his shirt tousled, the fly on his pants undone. He had slept alright, although passed out might be a better description. In his defense, he had tried to fall asleep like a normal human being: sat down and let his mind go blank, eyes firmly shut to try and get some rest. But try as he might, he always startled as he was about to drift off, the sight of the dark horse dissolving into a puddle of blood right before his very eyes, of Sturm’s decapitated arms almost comically flying in his direction. Rage followed soon after - another failure, another waste of time. How would he make that thing rise again? He was then caught in the infinite loop of thinking, and planning, and burning out in frustration, until he could carry on no more.

Of course. He remembered it now, what had finally lulled him to sleep, in the throes of his despair. The way she had distracted him with a well-placed, gentle hand on his face, to work her magic and make his pain disappear, to preserve the secret she worked so hard to maintain. The gash on his hand that had left no trace, the lycans and moroaicas dead but not quite. The way she seemed to have a knack for putting things back together again, to prop them up on strings and have them dance like a puppeteer would. If he brought her here into his den, allowed her a glimpse of his work - would she be able to help him? Would she want to?

At first, he had thought the whole thing was bullshit. So maybe she knew a few plants, knew how to make a mean incense to get him high as a kite and seeing shit. Maybe she had some medical training and could put a nose back in its place, big deal. Maybe she held the world record on fastest, most painless stitching of human flesh, and was in cahoots with the Duke to use whatever seemingly magical substance he put in his antiseptic solution. Whatever she was smoking to say that she could actually heal things, that she might just be able to murder Mother Miranda - he wanted some.

And yet the more he thought of it, the less sense it all made. Her touch was unmistakable when she held his chin up, when the monster’s wispy tendrils had done the same. There was no doubt that she had, indeed, healed his wounds. The decapitated heads were very much alive, the blood pungent, the bite as painful as it should be. If she had killed them, how had she brought them back to life? How had she kept them alive on borrowed time, negated the effects the very creator of the Cadou could not avoid? How far did her powers go? Were they powers, like his and Moreau’s and Donna’s and Alcina’s, or a clever trick of the mind?

Whatever the case, Miranda had spent the better part of a century trying to bring back a dead girl in the body of another, necromancy a far too advanced concept for her young mind back in the late twenties. She had spent countless hours, spilled gallons upon gallons of innocent blood, spread a disease that they no longer had control over in the lycans, all for naught. And suddenly some creepy girl at the ass-end of the woods was the second coming of Jesus? She had knocked him on his ass and somehow morphed into this giant mass of blood that would make the hairiest of grunts shit their pants. If there was any chance that she was for real, then it would change everything. The possibilities were endless. He just needed to tell apart the bullshit from the truth.

[multi--kpop--fanfics]

Place Your Bets - Prologue

Kai x fem!reader x Sehun

warnings: alcohol consumption, gambling, implied sexual actions, mentions of blackmailing 

summary: Prologue of the series - Y/N meets two handsome strangers who have set their eyes on her all night long. She decides to spice things up by suggesting a game. A dangerous one.

It was a quite peaceful night, the customers were enjoying their drinks, whether they were with friends or alone. Speaking of which, you were alone too - not that you really minded. Besides, you didn't need to have someone next to you, being the confident and self-made woman you were.

You see, you were the owner of the bar, which you made from literally scrap. You had made quite the infamous name for yourself, managing to hold one of the most notorious bars in the city, attracting even people of the highest class and fame. That was one of the many pros you had managed to acquire. Simply because you weren't running a typical bar.

After the closing time, your bar serves as a gambling place, where your regular and special customers can lose themselves into the thrill of poker, russian roulette and many more games. The sheer adrenaline the customers feel when raising the stakes makes you feel alive. Especially when you are the one raising the stakes and emerge victorious from every nerve-wrecking game.

To be honest, you didn't really care about the money - you wanted to experience the thrill of gambling, you thrive of the pained expressions of your opponents every time they start sweating and panic, afraid that they would lose their precious dollars. Gambling was your addiction, an addiction that made you high every single time - you could even say that it was better than having an orgasm during sex. Although you hadn't experienced the last one in a rather long time.

As you were lost in your thoughts while playing with your half-empty vodka-filled glass, your gaze mindlessly fell on a handsome young man, who was staring at you from his seat. You couldn't see his facial features clearly due to the dim lights of the bar, but his aura was definitely mysterious, and a bit intimidating. He was drinking his scotch, never breaking the eye-contact, until you broke it, turning to the bartender to ask him if he knows the man, only to shake his head negatively. You notice that your glass is now empty and before you ask the bartender for a refill, one of the waiters puts down a brand new drink next to you.

"Boss, this is for you from the gentleman sitting in the booth to your far left" he says. "Thank you, dear" you reply with a soft smile and you turn your head to the aforementioned gentleman, only to see him wink at you and raise his glass to your direction. Wow, definitely not done before, you think and slightly scoff. You take a sip from the glass and the familiar sour taste ironically takes you by surprise. Lemon? How did he know? you think to yourself. 

“A woman like you would never drink something sweet or heavy” you hear a deep, honey-dripping voice speak behind you and you turn your head to see the same man who bought you the drink a few minutes before. “Oh? And what do you think i am like?”, you raise an eyebrow and you wrap your scarlet-painted lips around the straw to take another sip of vodka. “You’re the owner of this bar. This means that you’re a very strong and independent woman. However, you are also devilishly gorgeous - a true femme fatale” he replies and kisses the back of your hand with his soft, full lips. “Perceptive and chivalrous... A powerful combination indeed. You are definitely a man many ladies would want by their side” you state with a sultry tone, eliciting a chuckle from the man. “You’re pretty perceptive as well. The real question is, do you want me by your side?”

“And what makes you think that you can possibly be by her side, Kai?” a manly, stern voice cuts off the conversation. You turn around to see the man who was staring at you earlier with an unwavering gaze. Your senses were always right and they most certainly didn’t fail this time - this man had a truly powerful and intimidating aura. You look at the man on your left and you notice his gaze stiffening by the second and his jaw clenching, his sharp jawline even more evident. “Oh? And you say that you can stand proudly next to her, Sehun?”.

Your eyes were alternating between the two men who were facing each other head-to-head, ready to rip each other’s throat out. They know each other…Interesting, you smirk to yourself and take a sip from your vodka. The sight in front of you was one for truly sore eyes: two handsome strangers, the one on your left dressed in a blazing red suit with no undershirt, revealing his golden toned chest and his silver undercut hair was slicked back, his name Kai, as the other man called him a while ago.

Speaking of the man on your right, his name was Sehun and his appearance was a complete contrast to Kai’s, but extremely attractive nonetheless - his jet black hair was in a comma style and he was wearing a black suit with a black buttoned up shirt, his pale skin and sharp facial features making him look like a vampire - a devilishly handsome one.

“Gentlemen, I think there’s a lot of tension piling up here. Perhaps we could settle this elsewhere?” you ask with a sultry voice. “Do you have something special in mind, princess?” Kai asks with a smirk, emphasizing the word ‘special’. “Follow me” you signal to them and they follow you behind the bar. You reveal a small golden key from the V-neck of your slip dress and you unlock the heavy door. You click a switch next to the door and the room lights up from an expensive crystal chandelier.

“A poker table?” Sehun raises a brow at you. “Are we going to settle this through poker?” he asks again and you nod affirmatively. “Now this is getting fun” Kai chuckles. “The rules are simple, gentlemen: 3 rounds of poker, each player has a total of 100 poker chips, total worth 250,000 dollars. The player who wins two out of three rounds, wins the game” you explain the game. You sit on the table, crossing your legs sensually, the two men eyeing you like two lions hunting their prey.

“So, shall we place our bets?”, you ask, your voice dripping honey. Kai takes a step forward and seats himself in one of the three velvet chairs. “May I?” he asks and you nod in agreement. “If I win, you will give me 50% of your business. Also, I want to bend you over the table and fuck you senseless” he admits while licking his lips deviously. You click your tongue and Sehun scoffs in unison. “You’ve got balls, I’ll give you that”, you reply, “But if you think you can actually get your hands on my business, you’re dreaming, pretty boy. However, I’ll accept the bet, because that will make the game even more enjoyable, right?” you smile with a cheshire cat-like grin. 

“What about you, Sehun?, you turn to the other male, waiting for his own proposal. He sits still, his sharp brows furrowed, deep into thinking. After a few seconds, he sits down and crosses his arms in front of his toned chest. He then searches into his pocket and pulls out a tape recorder and your eyes widen in shock.

He’s an undercover agent.

”This recorder is still on and contains every single word that has been said until now. This means that I have clear evidence of you running an illegal gambling club. I think you know what would happen if the FBI were to find out about this, don’t you Y/N?” Sehun says, “So, my proposal is the following: If I win the game, this tape goes straight to the headquarters and you will end up in jail for the rest of your life” he adds, voice still unwavering. You drum your fingers on the table, thinking about the possible outcome. “And if you lose?” you ask. Sehun then bends forward and looks you right in the eyes, not expecting his next words in the slightest:

“I’ll cut any ties with the FBI and I will become your personal bodyguard”.

Kai then scoffs under his breath. “Now who’s the crazy one here? Y/N, you can’t possibly allow this fuckery-” and he’s cut off by your almost maniac laughter, the sound sending chills through the men’s spines. 

“This... This is what I’ve been waiting for all my life! This game couldn’t have gotten any better! The highest of stakes, putting our life’s work on the line and letting the cards decide... The pure adrenaline, the thrill! This is the true nature of gambling, gentlemen” you chuckle darkly. You then pick up a brand new pack of cards and slice the lock open with a perfectly manicured nail.

“Let the game begin”.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

taglist: @intokook @bluejaem @cyclothimikhh @kpop---scenarios @making-me-blush @softstan-probably (send an ask if you want to be included!)

[buckyscrystalqueen]

The Resistant Omega: Part 5

Pairings: Omega!Mickey Milkovich x Male Alpha!Reader

Warnings: Swearing, smut

Word Count: 3,506

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 /  Part 4

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hey Alpha…” Mickey cooed as he stood in your room, watching you hobble around a little awkwardly in just your new walking boot and a pair of boxer briefs. “What are you doing?”

“Get dressed.” You said as you grabbed a light blue, short sleeve button down, and a dark grey vest from your closet and tossed them over to the bed. “We’re going out.”

“Umm… no.” He said as he picked up your clothes to hang them up. “You just got your cast off…”

“Which is why we’re going out.” You said as you pulled the hangers out of his hands and tossed them back on the bed. “Get dressed, Mickey.” He sighed but didn’t move as you grabbed a nicer pair of jeans and a single sneaker and turned to get ready. You stopped in front of him and gave him a rough, chaste kiss, which simply made him huff at you.

“You’re gunna make me be the asshole here, aren’t you?”

“No, I’m just gunna leave you at home.” You looked up at him as you sat down on your bed and started to take off your boot so that you could get your jeans on and shook your head. “You can try your damnedest to fight it, Omega, but we’re going out. You can go kicking and screaming or willingly. I’m indifferent there. But we are going to have a good time.”

“Weren’t you the one just last night complaining about how your leg hurt?” He asked as he grabbed a black button down from the closet.

“That was yesterday.” He hummed at you and nodded, disbelievingly as he too grabbed a nicer pair of jeans you had bought him and a pair of Chuck Taylors and came over to get ready as well.

“So you have zero pain…”

“Omega!” You growled as you pulled your jeans down over your boot, harshly. “Drop it, damn it! I get it, you’re worried, but I am fine. We’re just gunna go and have a few drinks and just get out of this damn house for a couple hours. So stop worrying, get dressed, and let’s fucking go.” With a heavy eye roll, he pulled on his jeans and grabbed an undershirt from his drawer. He surprisingly stayed silent as you both finished getting ready and for the entire cab ride to the club, but the second he saw the bar you chose, he scowled.

“You think I’m goin’ to a fucking gay bar?” He asked as you paid and tipped the driver.

“You can do whatever the fuck you wanna do, Mick.” You said as you pushed open the door and got out of the car. “I’m going out for a drink.”

“You are such a fucking pain in the ass.” He grumbled as you headed straight to the door instead of stopping at the end of the line like the rest of the guys waiting to get it. With a nod to the bouncer, who was a long time friend, you walked through the red rope into the Fairy Tale. With every slightly limped step you took, the music rattled your bones in a way that you honestly missed but would get on your nerves within a couple hours for sure. You headed over to a section of leather couch that was open and sat down with a sigh as Mickey looked around with a slightly distasteful look and grabbed a seat next to you. 

“My baby!” A handsome, Beta waiter in a pair of tiny gold shorts named Tommy cooed as he sat down on the small stage in front of you. “Long time no see!”

“Been a little tied up.” You said as you pointed to your foot. “Car accident.”

“Well that was silly!” He giggled as he brushed his fingertips across your arm. “You shouldn’t do that! What can I get you?”

“Whiskey double, neat, and he’ll take a Miller lite.” Tommy nodded at you and shot you a wink as you handed him a twenty from your pocket and leaned back against the sofa.

“The fuck is that?” Mickey asked the moment he was out of ear shot.

“That was me ordering drinks…”

“And what, eye fucking the waiter is necessary?” You couldn’t help but laugh as you laid your arm on the back of the couch on top of his. You grabbed and held on to it faster than he could pull away and shook your head.

“Omega…”

“Don’t.” He barked under his breath as he glanced at a couple guys as they walked past.

“No, you don’t.” You snapped as you sat up a bit more and turned toward him. “Mickey, do you love me?” He sighed and rolled his eyes again.

“Shut up…”

“Do you?” You repeated as you put your other hand on his knee. “Baby boy… what are you doing to me right now, huh? Because if you’re not gunna act like my fucking partner, I’m sure there are dozens of twinks in here…” Your startled the slightest bit when he lunged across the small space and kissed you before pulling away nearly as quickly to search your eyes.

“Why do you fucking say that shit?” He nearly breathed as he subtly turned his arm under yours to have any sort of physical contact with you at that moment.

“Because what kind of Alpha would I be if I didn’t push you just a little bit out of your comfort zone to become the most true version of you that you could be?” You reached up and brushed your thumb across his jaw before letting your hand drop to your lap with a shake of your head. “Mickey, I have a lot of shit to dig through with you and I know if I don’t push you, we’re just gunna be holed up in my house for the rest of our lives. And excuse me for wanting the world to see my gorgeous, pain in my ass baby boy…”

“Fuck off.” He huffed with a small smirk as he turned toward the waiter to grab his drink. “Fuck you lookin’ at?”

“Ignore him.” You sighed as you grabbed your drink with a tight lipped smile before you pushed Tommy’s hand and your change away from you. “Keep it. Thanks.” Tommy nodded his head and pocketed his tip before almost literally skipping away to wait on someone else with an unfazed smile on his face. “You need to be nice.” You chuckled as you turned your attention to your Omega while you slowly brushed your thumb across the crook of his arm. “You’re the only man in here that gets to go home with me, remember that.”

“Yea, well the rest’a them better keep their hands and eyeballs to themselves up in this bitch.” He muttered before taking a long pull of his beer, which made you finally get to the point where you rolled your eyes.

“Such a hard ass, ‘mega.” You teased as you took a sip of your drink. “Can you relax for me, baby boy?”

“It’s not that fuckin’ easy.”

“I know.” You said with a nod as you scooted just a little bit closer to him and propped your boot up on the stage. “But you’ve already taken a huge step just coming in here. And I know no one in this fucker is gunna judge you for loving who you love. It’s the second best safe space in the world next to my house to be yourself.”

“You don’t get it, (Y/N).” He sighed as he bent his arm on the back of the couch to rub his jaw nervously. “You don’t fucking get it.”

“No, I could never completely get it.” You agreed as you rubbed his elbow with your thumb. “But I will be here all the fucking same. And I will love you no matter what anyone else in the world thinks. Because you are my Omega, Mickey. All mine.”

“I hate it when you get all weepy and sappy with your fucking rom-com bullshit…”

“Fuck off, you love it!” You laughed as you threw back your drink and looked around the bar.

“You think so.” He joked with a shit eating grin. “I honestly just throw up in my mouth.”

“I honestly feel like you’re just asking to get tied up to the bed so I can fuck the rude outta you again.” You could see the shiver race down his spine and your smile grew as you flagged down a waiter for another whiskey. “Yea, that’s what I thought.”

“Fuck, I hate when you do that shit, too.” He grumbled beside you as he shifted his seat beside you so that he was even closer to you and so that his starting erection was hidden while you ordered and paid for another round.

“I know you do, baby boy. But that’s why it is so much fun.”

——

“What? What?” You shouted when Mickey came running around the corner into the bathroom while you were getting ready for bed that night. He shook his head and barely made it to the toilet before he threw up violently. “Fuck. OK. OK, just get it out.” You cooed as you awkwardly got down on the floor beside him. You started to rub his back and startled again when you felt how hot he was. “Jesus, Mickey. You’re burning up.”

“Feel… death…” You nodded and kept rubbing his back as he started to throw up again. 

“Shit, baby boy… Just stay here for a second…”

“No, Alpha, please.” Mickey begged as he scrambled to try and grab your arm.

“Hey… I’m just gunna go grab my phone, Omega. That’s all. Just gunna call a doctor because I don’t know shit about being sick. I’m coming right back.” He let out a long whine and barely nodded his head before he was getting sick again, and you scrambled to your feet and down the hall to your room as fast as your booted foot would allow you to go.

“Fuck do you want? It’s three in the…”

“I need your Omega.” You snapped as you headed back into the bathroom. “Something’s wrong with Mickey.” You heard a slight scuffle through the speaker as you sat back down on the floor and started rubbing your Omega’s back again.

“(Y/N)?” Tara asked hesitantly. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know. We went out to the Fairy Tale and he was fine, but when I was getting ready for bed, he came running in and started getting sick. He’s fucking burning up…”

“OK.” The doc said as calmly as she could. “Um… Is his heat due soon?”

“He’s on suppressants.” You said with a shake of your head as you pulled Mickey into your lap. “So no.”

“Oh, shit. Alright, I’m gunna come over and take a look at him. I need you to get him into a cold shower to try to bring the fever down because if he’s on suppressants and living with you, my first guess is this is his genetics fighting the chemicals he’s putting in his body. Advil and Tylenol won’t work here.”

“Doors locked, key’s in its usual spot. We’re in the upstairs bathroom. Alright, here, here, here.” You said quickly as you threw your phone across the room and helped Mickey off your lap to be sick again. “I’m gunna fix this baby boy. I swear.”

“Alpha.” He groaned as you yanked on your boot cover.

“I know, baby. Come here, let’s stand up for a minute.” You were glad you were stronger than he was because he was completely dead weight when you went to get him in the shower to cool him down. You lowered him down to the floor in your lap and cradled him in your arms as he curled into your chest.

“Alpha… everything hurts.”

“I know, sweetheart.” You breathed as you pulled off the wife beater he slept in and tossed it in the corner of the shower stall. “Tara’s gunna come and make it all better, I promise.” With a nod of his head, he lurched forward and got sick all over your arm, side, and leg, and you simply nodded and kept rubbing his back. “Just let it out, baby boy. Let it all out.” He nodded his head and fell into your chest again as you pushed the hose of the shower up and quickly caught the shower head before it hit the pair of you. 

You washed your side off and did everything you could to cool your boyfriend off, but with every passing moment, you got a little more frantic because the cold water wasn’t working. Every single pathetic whine he made ripped through your heart like a knife, and you had to admit that you were grateful when he passed out even if it did scare you even more. Your heart started to race in your chest when Mickey started to shake, and you looked up at Tara and Jax desperately when they finally stepped into your bathroom.

“Help him.” You practically begged as you moved the shower head out of the way.

“Jax, take him…”

“No!” You snarled as you quickly curled your body around your Omega when Tara turned off the shower so she and her Alpha wouldn’t get wet. Jax took one look at your nearly feral glare and quickly pulled Tara behind his back and away from you, protectively.

“(Y/N)… I’m not gunna take him anywhere.” Jax said evenly as he crouched down in front of you so he came off less threatening to your Omega. “I’m going to carry him to your room so that Tara can take care of him. She can’t do that in the shower and you can’t carry him with your foot.” You searched his eyes for a moment before letting your legs slide out a little straighter. “Tara, grab towels and lay them out…”

“On my side.” You growled as you pushed yourself up. “Left side of the bed.” She nodded her head and scrambled to get the towels laid out as you grabbed one for yourself from the shelf. You tossed your wet boxers back in the shower and threw on a pair of gym shorts from your dresser before grabbing a clean pair of boxers and a pair of shorts for Mickey. You barely heard Tara tell Jax what she needed him to get for her from wherever he could as you climbed up on the bed beside the love of your life.

“Here, let me help.” Tara said softly as you used your towel to try to dry Mickey off before you got him dressed.

“Is he gunna be OK?”

“I’m gunna do everything I can. But he’ll need you more than anything I can give him.” You nodded your head, absentmindedly and covered his lap with a towel to change his boxers.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

——

Guilt was not a feeling you were really familiar with. You didn’t feel it when you stole, or when you murdered. You didn’t feel it when you beat that one punk within an inch of life for scratching your truck, nor when you broke your first heart or every heart after that. But the guilt of listening to your Omega whine in his sleep because of those fucking suppressants he was on that you gave him and allowed him to continue taking was absolutely killing you. You wanted so badly to take the pain of his twisted, half heat away, to claim it as your own so he didn’t have to live through it for another minute more.

“Alpha…” Mickey’s pain filled voice shook you out of your angered thoughts and you lurched down the bed to lay down in front of him.

“I’m here, baby boy.” You cooed as you gently laid your hand on his hot cheek and smiled weakly at his gorgeous blue eyes.

“M’cold.”

“OK, I can fix that.” You quickly rolled onto your back and grabbed the remotes to the two stand alone fans Daryl had brought over for you to try to keep Mickey’s core temp down. You turned the fans down to a lower setting and quickly grabbed the blankets you had stacked up on the far side of the bed in case he got cold. “Here we go. Get you nice and toasty warm.”

“I’m sorry.”

“What the fuck would you be sorry for, Omega?” You huffed as you tucked the blankets in behind his back.

“Threw up… on your leg.” You couldn’t help but smile as you pulled him into your chest and started rubbing his back to get him warmed up, despite the fact that he still felt fire hot.

“Yea, well I’ll look the other way this time, ‘mega. Just this once. Just remember, I still owe you a broken nose.” A small smile stretched across his face as he buried his face in your throat and breathed deeply.

“Hope I don’t die first.”

“You’re not gunna die, Omega. We’re both gunna lay right here all week long, and we’re gunna suffer through this together same way you suffered with me through my leg. We are in this together, Omega. You and me.” He purred at the thought and snuggled even closer to you.

“Fuck… why do you smell so good?” He asked as he turned his nose more into your neck and inhaled deeply.

“Easy, Omega. Doc said you can’t get all worked up.”

“M’not.”

“Mmhmm.” You countered with a nod as you tilted your jaw the slightest bit to give him a little more room. Your jaw dropped a half an inch when he nipped at your throat, and a low growl rolled from your chest. “Omega…” You actually jumped when he ripped away from you and scrambled to try to get out of the blankets, and you had less than a second to spare to grab the trash can for him to get sick in when he couldn’t get the blankets free. “Shit, baby boy. You can’t get worked up this heat. Those fucking suppressants are seriously fucking with you…”

“Fuck…” He groaned as he tried to push the blankets off his feet. “Fuck this shit…”

“We’re gunna make it through this, baby boy. I promise.” You said as you turned the fans back up because he had started to sweat again.

“Just fucking kill me.” He mumbled as he set the trash can down and fell back against the headboard.

“We’re gunna make it through this.” You breathed as you got up to grab him a pain killer and clean out the trash can. “Take this and smoke a joint. We’re gunna make it through this shit and then we’re having a serious fucking talk about those pills.”

[artificialqueens]

Galactica, Chapter 41 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Last Chapter: Halloween

This Chapter: Things look up for Violet but turn iffy for Adore.

***

Pearl swayed a little in her heels as Adore’s lips trailed down her neck. They were half-dressed at this point, making their way to Adore’s bedroom. Adore’s jacket and shirt had been discarded, leaving her in just a thin undershirt, suspenders dangling around her waist. Pearl’s skirt was around her ankles, sweater somewhere on the floor.

She stepped out of the skirt, a sharp inhale leaving her as Adore shoved her roughly up against a wall. Her hands threaded into Adore’s hair, which was up in a tight bun, and immediately began pulling it apart. She loved the whole butch look that Adore was rocking tonight, but she loved it even more when she got to unravel it. Pearl’s hand traveled along the wall, reaching for the door handle, finally pushing it open and pulling Adore into the bedroom.

“God, you’re so fucking hot,” Adore breathed, pushing Pearl onto the bed.

Pearl smirked, enjoying the desperate edge in her voice as her hands groped for her bra clasp, the unrefined way she clawed at her panties to yank them down. She spread her thighs, head falling backward, hand tangled into Adore’s hair to guide her along.

“I love your pussy,” Adore continued, lapping her up vigorously, fingers digging into her thighs. “You’re perfect, so perfect…”

Adore kept lavishing praise on her, and Pearl could feel her muscles tense. She tried to squeeze her eyes shut, to close it out and focus on the way her body was responding, but it quickly became impossible. She took a deep breath and rolled Adore over onto her back, thighs straddling her face.

“Stop talking.”

Adore panted up at her, surprise all over her face as her eyes went dark. “Are you gonna punish me?”

The way she just immediately folded, immediately ceded all power to Pearl, was even more intoxicating than if she’d been submissive all along.

“I should,” Pearl said hoarsely. She ran a finger along Adore’s bottom lip. “I should show you who’s boss.”

“Do it.” Adore trembled beneath her, gripping her thighs for dear life.

Pearl took hold of the headboard and lowered herself until her pussy was pressed up against Adore’s face, riding her slowly, dictating the pressure and pace, all the while watching the blissed-out expression in Adore’s eyes. By the time Pearl came with a satisfied groan, Adore’s panties, her usual boy-cut cotton briefs, were soaked through.

It was hard not to laugh. This was the same girl who, just hours earlier, had been manhandling her on the dance floor as if she were the king of the world. And now, all it took was a few swipes of Pearl’s thumb to reduce her to a whimpering, shaking mess.

“You like that?”

“B-baby, please,” Adore begged, pupils fully dilated, hands clutching at Pearl’s hair and shoulders. “I need to come, I need-”

“Shh, shhhh…” Pearl silenced her with a kiss, finally plunging her fingers inside to give her what she so desperately wanted, stroking her g-spot until she cried out, then continuing to play with her until she was wrung out, too weak to even lift her head.

Afterwards, Pearl sucked her fingers into her mouth with a satisfied grin, letting Adore curl against her as usual, wrapping her warm body into a sweaty embrace.  

***

Sutan woke to the ever familiar scent of lavender, and the sensation of Violet’s hair up his nose.

He huffed, moving his face away, only to smile when Violet groaned, her hand coming up to grab his arm and pull him back down, forcing him to mold himself back against her back, the bed creaking underneath them.

Last night, they hadn’t returned to Sutan’s place as he had originally expected, instead, they had ended up in Violet’s apartment because Violet had insisted that she would die if she didn’t get pizza from a specific pizzeria near her building, and who was Sutan to argue with that?

“Morning gorgeous.” Sutan smiled, pressing a kiss against Violet’s shoulder, but the action only earned him another deep groan, Violet for once very clearly hungover. “Where is your bed frame?”

“Only rich people have bed frames.”

“Sure.” Sutan snorted, burrowing his face in Violet’s hair, pulling her against him.

It was strange to be in Violet’s bedroom, Sutan realizing last night with a flash of embarrassment that this was the first time he had been inside Violet’s apartment. He had picked her up from her building countless times, but they had always stayed at his, Sutan not even entertaining the idea that he should come up.

“Is there any leftover pizza?” Violet looked over her shoulder, a little bit of the mascara she hadn’t managed to get off smudged under her eye.

“You only had two slices.” Sutan had bought a pepperoni pizza for himself, Violet for some godforsaken reason going straight for pineapple and only pineapple. “I put it in your fridge.”

Sutan had never expected Violet to be someone who enjoyed cooking, but he had been shocked when he had opened her refrigerator last night, a bottle of carrot juice, a carton of almond milk and a half eaten takeaway salad all he had spotted in there.

“I’ll go get it.” Violet slipped out of bed, and Sutan couldn’t help but smile as she was wearing the tiniest pair of panties, her Hepburn jewels still around her neck since Sutan hadn’t been able to figure out the lock with a drunk and sleepy Violet in his arms.

Sutan sat up, running his hand through his hair as he looked around the bedroom, a tower of brown moving boxes in the corner. Violet’s clothes were all put away, two clothing racks holding dresses Sutan immediately recognized, but beyond the wardrobe, the room was strangely bare and devoid of personal touches.

“Huh.” Sutan bit his lip, getting out of bed. He grabbed his undershirt from the floor, cursing to himself when he realized that he didn’t have his reading glasses, using his phone without them a surefire way to feel like shit after a night out.

“Do you want coffee?” Sutan turned his head to see Violet standing in the door, now wrapped in a robe, a plate and a slice of pizza with missing bites in her hand. “I’m afraid I only have instant.”

“Instant is fine.” It wasn’t really, not when he was used to his top of the line espresso machine, but he wasn’t going to create a fuss. “Do you have anything that isn’t pineapple pizza?”

“I can make oatmeal?” Violet smiled, and he guessed that somewhat explained the strange lack of food in her fridge.

“How about I take us out for breakfast?”

***

“Raaaaaaaj,” Raven whispered, her lips right next to her fiancée's ear. “Wake up.”

They had come home from the party last night, Raja helping her out of her costume, the two of them falling into bed, drunk sex always a fucking treat, the feeling of Raja’s fake mustache against her inner thighs so strange they had both been hiccuping from laughter.

“Mmmh?”

“I’m hungry.” Raven smirked as she felt Raja’s hand travel up her back, the other woman finally awake.

“Make breakfast then.”

“I wanna go out.” Raven nuzzled her nose against Raja’s neck.

“You can starve for all that I care.”

Raven laughed. Grumpy Raja was one of her favorites, the whine in her voice one that never came out anywhere else, being allowed to see her like this, a treasure Raven guarded with her life.

“Please-” Raven nuzzled her face even closer against Raja’s neck, pressing kisses to the warm skin. “I want buttered croissants.”

“Mmh-” Raja hummed, her fingers finding the ends of her hair. Raven knew she wasn’t actually tempted by the promise of bread, Raja beyond annoying with how easy it was for her to not give in to culinary temptations.

“If you put some pants on, I can call for a car-”

“No can do buttercup.” Raja started petting her hair. “The moment I leave this bed, I have to work.”

“Seriously?” Raven sat up on her elbows, Raja actually opening her eyes now, a bit of glue still on her top lip. “Don’t look at my tits.”

“Sorry,” Raja smirked, her eyes still focused on Raven’s chest.

“You have to work? Again?” Raven wanted to throw a fit. It wasn’t a new thing that Raja worked on the weekends, it wasn't a new thing that she was constantly fighting for her attention, but this, this was a new low, both of them naked and hung over. “It’s Sunday?”

“The preparations for the Spring collection are right around the corner. You know people depend on me and Fame has unfortunately handed me a mug.”

Raven huffed, throwing herself back down on the bed, turning her back to Raja as she pulled the duvet under her chin.

“Princess-” Raven felt Raja curl around her back. “Don’t be upset.”

“And what about me? I depend on you too,” Raven grumbled, the words caught by the duvet, but Raja somehow still heard them.

“I know.” Raja peeled the duvet down, pressing a kiss against Raven’s shoulder blade. “How about we order in, eat in bed-”

“Hm?” Raven turned her head.

“And when I’m done with my very important job,” Raja smiled, her hand sneaking under the covers and settling on Raven’s hip. “I spend the very important money I make on buying very important things for our trip to Aspen?”

“Mmh,” Raven chewed her lip to keep the smile off of her face. “I guess that’s acceptable.”

***

“Ah, that hits the spot.”

Violet smiled to herself as she watched Sutan take the first sip of the double espresso he had ordered. They were sitting at a small cafe, Sutan actually cleaning up surprisingly nicely for the fact that he had only had his costume from last night at her place.

“Glad to see your craving could be satisfied.”

“Oh?” Sutan grinned, tapping his foot against hers underneath the table. “Do you really think you have room to be snarky, Miss Pineapple?”

Violet bit her lip, her cheeks heating up. She couldn’t exactly remember the entirety of last night after bumping into Courtney, Raven talking her into yet another round of shots, but she did remember Sutan’s hand on her back, did remember unlocking her door and whining when she couldn’t get her necklace off.

“Concentrate on your breakfast.”

Sutan laughed, trapping her foot between his own before he dug into his cinnamon French toast. Violet herself had opted for a sunnyside egg and a smoothie, the pizza slice she had devoured before Sutan was ready to leave sitting heavy in her stomach.

Sutan was chatting about last night, telling her a story about Detox, the two men surprisingly close for how different they were. Violet wasn’t truly listening, but it didn’t seem to matter, Sutan more than happy to just up the space.

“Lovely eyes-” Violet was pulled out of her thoughts, the man watching her with his brown eyes. “You’re tapping along with the music.”

Sutan was pointing with his fork, and Violet looked down at her fingers, her almond-shaped nails tapping on table.

“Huh…” Violet hadn’t even noticed, hadn’t even listened to the music, but now that she was aware, she could hear the notes of Waltz of the Flowers, the cafe for some reason playing Tchaikovsky's Nutcracker. The music was such an ingrained part of who she was, the ballet one she had danced every December since she was 6 years old. “I’m sorry.”

“Bringing back memories?” Sutan smirked, a kind look in his eyes, but Violet felt her entire body run cold.

“Yes.” It did bring back memories, the sensation of leg warmers and sitting on hard dance floors, of chewy protein bars and being soaked in sweat, of the unbelievable satisfaction when a move was finally executed just right and she could collapse in exhaustion. “But how-”

“Did I know?” Sutan put his fork down, clearly beyond pleased with himself.

“Yes.”

Violet hadn’t told anyone in her new life that her first career had been as a dancer at the New York City Ballet, that she had been a soloist on the track for principal before her life had changed forever at 17.

“I’m a modeling agent, lovely eyes.” Sutan took his coffee cup. “I can spot a dancer from a mile away, and everything about your posture tells me that you have done ballet at some point.”

“Ah.” Violet nodded, a rush of relief coursing through her. Sutan didn’t know, hadn’t truly guessed who she used to be. “You got me.”

“What can I say,” Sutan grinned, putting his cup to his lips. “I’m the best.”

She’d tell him one day, tell him her entire story, but that day wasn’t going to be today.

***

When Violet had first started in design, she had wondered why they had several couches scattered around the room. It had started to make sense as she had seen just how social her new coworkers were, the furniture often taken up by people talking, working or even napping.

Violet had never used the couches before today, her desk and her desk chair all she needed, but while Trixie was upstairs for the  department head meeting discussing the Spring line, she had figured that it was time to test out if Trixie was actually serious about wanting them to relax.

Which was why she was on the couch, attempting to pass the time while she waited anxiously for Trixie to return.

It felt incredibly weird not to be in the boardroom, to not be standing against the wall taking notes as Fame and Raja presented the new concepts for the collections, Violet’s spine itching with annoyance over the fact that she wasn’t there.

She had considered texting Courtney, but she wasn’t sure Courtney could actually tell her anything interesting, the blonde incredibly talented at hearing but not listening, so instead, Violet had brought her backlog of magazines with her to work.

Violet had started collecting fashion magazines at 17. At first, she had only read American Vogue, but as she had started to get more and more into fashion, her monthly collection had started to grow.

Now, she bought American Vogue, British Vogue, French Vogue, Italian Vogue, Marie Claire, Harper's Bazaar and French and American Elle, her preferred newsstand knowing her by sight.

Violet knew that she could look online for fashion inspiration, knew that it was what everyone around her did, but she had always preferred either print or watching the real people of New York walk by.

Violet wasn’t sure what she was looking for, but as she flipped through the pages, she knew she’d find it sooner or later, at least one of the spots in the Spring collection belonging to her, even if she had to fight for it. Violet almost rolled her eyes as she revealed yet another page of british street style, the fabrics and cuts absolutely horrendous.

Every time the door opened, she would sit up straighter, thinking it was Trixie back with news. After 3 or 4 excruciating false alarms, he finally returned, smiling at the designers, knowing they were all on pins and needles at this point.

“Attention Team! This is not a drill!” Trixie joked. “Everyone meet me in the conference room in 5 minutes for an update on the Spring collection!”

Violet stood up immediately, hurrying directly to the conference room with her notebook, excited to hear the news. Trixie was busy sticking a handful of reference photos onto the whiteboard: A ceramic cup, an egret, a skyline of what looked to be a coastal village somewhere in Turkey, a wheat field at sunrise, a collection of fabric samples stapled together into little booklets the designers could take with them to their desks.

Apparently, this year, Fame wanted a light and breezy Spring collection. Functional and elegant with a touch of whimsy. The color palette was true Galactica: dove grey, cream, straw, ivory flecked with gold, very sparing accents of delicate pink and dusty lilac.

Violet’s mind raced with ideas of ways to manipulate silk so that it rustled and and fluttered beautifully on the runway. Of clean, beautiful lines: crisp linens and soft, feathery edges. Her fingers itched with excitement to get started as she carefully wrote down their deadlines: Thursday to turn in sketches for the in-store prêt-à-porter collection, and the following Thursday for the opening and closing runway pieces.

She knew, of course, that Alexis, Jovan, Gia, April and Maxwell had guaranteed spots in the collection, that group of designers the defining factors in the current Galactica style. She was also well aware that as a new designer, she would be doing foundation pieces.

She would be expected to pay her dues and make sure her collection pieces supported whatever final direction the senior staff chose, but Violet had never been a settler, and she was going to give being in the collection her best shot.

***

Adore sighed happily, swaying to the pounding bass of the house music, surrounded by a sea of sweaty club goers. She and her band had just played an electrifying late-night gig and she was still high on the adrenaline.

She loved being out, loved showing people why her and her band were the next big thing, but the best part of the night was that Pearl was there, had been right there in the front of the crowd cheering her on.

“Hey…” Aja came up to her, a look of concern creasing their brow, Aja’s outfit for the night a light blue latex number.

“What’s up, baby?” Adore asked, pressing a kiss to Aja’s cheek, wrapping her arms around their waist. They’d known each other since Adore first moved to New York to live with Bianca, almost 10 years ago, had been classmates at the performing arts high school along with the rest of her bandmates.

“Uh, it’s just… Dahlia is being a bit of a thot and Pearl looks… Into it…” Aja bit their lip.

Adore turned to look where Aja was gesturing, saw her friend and bass player sitting perched on a stool, back arched, plaid shirt almost entirely unbuttoned and slipping off one shoulder. Pearl stood close to her… Maybe a little closer than needed, a beer in her hand as she chatted her up. There was a bored, almost challenging look on Dahlia’s face as Pearl spoke, and the whole thing set Adore’s teeth on edge.

“Well…” Adore swallowed, fighting her impulse to march over and pull them apart, fixing a nonchalant expression on her face as she turned back to Aja, “They’re both big flirts. So what?”

“So, I don’t know if I’d be cool with it. I’m shocked you are.”

“There’s no reason for me to be a jealous bitch. I knew that Pearl was like that when we got together, so how could expect her to change? And anyway, she’s coming home with me, not Dahlia,” Adore said.

“You sure about that?” Aja asked.

Adore’s eyes narrowed, shooting a nasty look at her long-time friend, who laughed.

“Alright, alright. I didn’t realize that you were so chill.”

“I’m the chillest,” Adore said, taking a sip of her cocktail. But whether she was trying to convince herself or Aja, she wasn’t totally sure.

*

“So can I buy you a drink?”

“You can fuck off,” came the sneering reply.

“Oof,” Pearl smiled, resting her head on her hand, her elbow placed on the bar. “Kitty got claws. What got you in such a mood?”

“The company.”

There was something strangely familiar about Dahlia, but Pearl was 99% sure she hadn’t had sex with her before. She’d given up trying to place her, instead just enjoying her ice queen vibe. “I don’t think you mind my company all.”

“Don’t I?” Dahlia raised an eyebrow, her plump lips pursed, her beautiful face the picture of disinterest, but Pearl had caught her eyes flickering to her arm, had seen her notice exactly how strong Pearl was in the places where it was needed.

“I know women.”

Dahlia was hot as sin, everything about her soft and delicate, her dark hair styled in careful silky curls, the freckles on her shoulder the most delicious tease, the garterbelt that poked out from under her denim shorts promising Pearl that she’d find mouth-watering lingerie underneath Dahlia’s clothes if she ever got that far.

“I’m sure you do.”

“I could show you?”

“No.”

Pearl had to bite her lip to swallow a moan. There was something about her hyper femininity, something about how she was just a little bit mean, Dahlia radiating a promise of pink pillows, cherry chapstick and fruit scented shampoo that Pearl hadn’t even realized she was missing so fiercely it made her nipples tighten.

“Also,” Dahlia looked over her shoulder. “Your girlfriend is right over there.”

Shit.

***

Violet walked out of the elevator, a cup of steaming hot coffee and a banana in her hand. It was a little after 8--security had finally realized that her company card opened every door and locked her out, but she could still make her way to the design floor without a hitch.

Violet had come directly from the gym, her hair in a ponytail and still damp from her shower, the shoes on her feet running shoes instead of the heels she normally wore. She’d had this routine for awhile now--getting to the office early to do her makeup and hair in the big, clean Galactica bathrooms where, unlike the gym, she didn’t have to fight for mirror space, smile at strangers, or pretend to be interested in small talk. She’d have time to finish her routine and settle in to work just as the other designers began trickling in.

Today though, as she opened the big double doors to the design department, she was surprised at the sight that met her. It wasn’t one lone designer who’d arrived earlier than normal, or two people finishing a project, but rather, at least five of her colleagues sitting at their desks, busily working away already.

Violet had no idea why they were there, seeing so many of her coworkers this early honestly shocking. Thankfully, it didn’t seem like they had noticed her, so she made a beeline for the bathroom, vowing to herself that she’d get fully ready before coming into the office from now on, the risk of her coworkers seeing her as anything less than perfectly put together not one she was willing to take yet.

***

Maxwell stood by the printer, waiting for the sketches he had done on his iPad to come out. For years now, he’d been almost solely responsible for all of the business separates in the Galactica line, and it suited him just fine.

Over the years, he’d perfected the kind of crisply tailored and yet graceful and feminine lines that Miss Fame preferred, which had earned him her favor again and again and again.

When he’d seen the inspiration for the Spring collection, he was immediately flooded with ideas, and after almost 2 days of working, he was quite pleased with the sheer volume and range of choices he was going to present at the meeting, already imagining the pleased nod he’d get from the head of the company.

Violet appeared in the little printing alcove, doing a jump of surprise when she saw someone else in there. “Max, hi-”

“Sorry to scare you,” Maxwell smiled. “My job’s almost done,”

“Thanks,” Violet said, taking a step in, their elbow almost bumping against each other as she snug a peak at the printer. “Wow,” Violet turned her head, looking at Maxwell. “Are these your sketches? There’s so many already.”

“Well, you know Fame and Raja. They like to have options. ” Maxwell grinned, knowing that if anyone did know, it’d be Violet. “My technique with prêt-à-porter is to give them as many choices as possible, with lots of variation. Kind of ‘throw all the spaghetti at the wall and see what sticks’ approach, you know?”

Violet nodded, a very serious expression on her face as she listened.

“I started with a bunch of different suit options, and then I’ll use these to whip up all the other coordinating separates.”

“I just can’t believe that you’ve done so many in only 2 days,” Violet said, looking quite uncertain.

“You’re pretty fast yourself, so I wouldn’t worry.” Maxwell picked his sketches up. “Are you working on any for this week, or straight for the couture spots?”

“Yes.” Violet moved up, pressing on the printer to make it spit out her own sketches before she apparently realized that just yes wasn’t actually an answer to his question. “Prêt-à-porter isn’t my strength-“ Violet bit her lip, “But I’m not a one trick pony, and I want to play ball.”

“My advice? Be ambitious. This isn’t the time to hold back,” Maxwell said, smiling kindly. In spite of his initial reservations, he’d found himself quite charmed by the newest designer. And if he could help her get a leg up, he definitely wanted to do that, adding, “Let me know if you want me to review anything before Thursday!”

“Thanks,” Violet smiled. “I appreciate that.”

***

Courtney rushed down the street in the chilly air, in a desperate hurry to get to Broadway Dance Center in time for her class to start.

She hadn’t really given her personal dreams much thought since beginning at Galactica. But recently, when Adore was telling her all about a series of gig she’d gotten--ones Courtney couldn’t attend because they were all super late at night, mid-week, and all the way in Brooklyn--a rush of envy over Adore’s ability to focus on her music completely had overtaken her, immediately followed by guilt over such an ugly emotion.

Just because Adore had someone supporting her didn’t give Courtney any excuse to be jealous of her friend’s good fortune. Maybe things would be harder for her--that didn’t mean that she shouldn’t try. Instead of worrying about what she didn’t have, she decided to instead look to Adore’s achievements as inspiration.

She’d found an 8 pm class, figuring that it was late enough not to interfere with her work responsibilities. After all, taking an hour for herself one evening a week seemed like the kind of thing she should be able to do without a problem, right?

However, today had been even crazier than usual, with the holiday collection now being finalized, the Spring collection underway, and Fame working on a deal to expand Galactica’s flagship stores in Europe. Fame herself hadn’t even left until just before 7.

Courtney had finally managed to get away, currently sprinting the 15 blocks to BDC--she’d even had the foresight to bring sneakers. If she was fast enough, there was a chance she’d make it in time for her class.

With less than 2 blocks to go, Courtney realized that her work phone was buzzing in her hand. She paused at the corner, trying to manifest some positive energy before she answered. This will be something small. Something I already took care of. This call will end with Miss Fame pleased and happy...

“Hello?”

“Why are the Berlin contracts not in my bag?” Fame demanded.

“You...wanted to take those home?” Courtney asked, though she already knew the answer. Why would Fame be calling her otherwise? She cringed at her own carelessness, stupidly assuming that she’d review them the next day at her meeting with Patrick.

Fame seemed to be just as annoyed with Courtney as she was with herself, sighing and saying, “Deliver them now. This stress is not good for my skin,” and then hanging up even before Courtney’s “Yes, Miss.”

Courtney stood on the corner for a few moments, catching her breath, before turning around and trudging back towards the Galactica offices, shoulders slumped in defeat.

So much for dance class.

[the-blind-assassin-12]

Always

A/N: It’s a big day for you...and for Nick. Gosh darn it I love that candy coated mobster man. This is a continuation of 10,800 and Make Somethin’ For Us.

Warnings: NEGATIVE 5. This is a pile-o-fluff. 

Word Count: 4,074

“You don’t have to wear a suit, Nicky,” you’d told him that morning as the two of you laid your clothes out on the bed. The dress you’d chosen was one you’d had for a few years, a simple blue frock that you’d bought at Nick’s urging when he insisted on taking you somewhere nice for dinner. The two of you had ended up slow dancing at the diner while Carl looked on from the counter instead of sharing the four course meal that Nick had in mind, thanks to the discriminating eye and upturned nose of the restaurant’s snobbish hostess. But if you were being honest, you were glad that’s how it had gone. It was much more like the two of you, comfortable, easy and right. You kissed his shoulder as you stepped behind him to grab the plastic garment bag from your closet, the bright shiny material of your graduation gown, cap and cords showing through the clear covering. “It’s gonna be so hot and the ceremony’s outside and-“

  “I’m wearin’ it,” he said, turning to catch you by the waist. You giggled and squirmed under his palms as they squeezed your flesh, dragging you into him so that your nearly bare chest was pressed against his, the overwhelming feeling of skin on skin causing your entire body to flush. Your hands found space on his sides, fingers tracing the faint scar you’d stitched up for him two years before. It always mixed your emotions to think about that night, to think about that scar, reminding you how quickly you almost lost him. But I didn’t. He’s here. He’s mine.  “It’s an important day,” he insisted, hands sliding around to your back and resting just above your bottom. “So I’m dressin’ the part.”

 “The part of what?” You asked, rising on your toes to brush the tip of your nose against his. “A puddle? Seriously, Nick, a shirt and tie with a jacket? It’s gonna be like 80-something degrees and- oof!”

  He swallowed the rest of your sentence as his tongue entered your mouth, languidly caressing yours to silence it. You felt his warm breath against your lips as they turned upwards and moved with his, one hand gently brushing through your hair so as not to disrupt the curls you’d created, the other pressing your lower half more tightly to his. You gasped into the kiss at the sensation of his hardened arousal against your thigh, stoking the embers from the morning’s fire low in your abdomen, causing you to roll your hips tantalizingly slowly. Nick groaned into the kiss, that primal sound in the back of his throat only urging you on more. He needs to stop soon or I won’t be able to and then I’m gonna be late for my own damn graduation. As though he could read your mind, he pulled back with your bottom lip between his teeth, giving it a slight tug. “The part of proud boyfriend,” he said with a wink. “Extremely proud boyfriend’a Boston’s best nurse. And that part requires a suit.” He shrugged, moving around you to start getting dressed. “Sorry, I don’t make the rules.”

  You shook your head slowly from side to side, wondering what amazing thing you’d done in a former life to be gifted with his love in this one. “Suddenly you’re all about the rules?”

  He pulled an undershirt down over his head before picking up the gray pants that were laid out next to your dress. “Gotta play by the rules sometimes,” he said, “gotta keep you on your toes.” 

  You laughed, and in that moment you couldn’t remember being happier. Your life with Nick had grown so much over the years, had gotten so much more full the further away he got from his past. It was always going to be a part of him, the things he’d done and the things that had happened to him. It would always be a part of your relationship. But you’d accepted that fact long ago, along with everything else about him. You stepped into your dress as Nick buttoned his pants, reaching behind yourself to pull the zipper up. You saw the corner of Nick’s mouth lift in a small smile from under his scruffy beard as you stalled ¾ of the way up between your shoulder blades. Before you could ask for help you felt his hand covering yours as he stepped behind you to take over, gently finishing the job . “Thanks,” you hummed as he grazed the skin above the neckline, trailing his fingertips up the side of your throat. You leaned into him as his arms slipped under yours and around your middle, his hefty gold chain pressed between his chest and your back. 

 “‘Course,” he murmured, head tilted so he could meet your ear with his lips. “You look real nice.” He kissed his way back down from your ear and around to the back of your neck. “You always look real nice.” His hands spread over the fabric of your dress as he pressed his nose to your skin and inhaled the citrusy scent of your body wash. “My gorgeous girl.”

  Despite the fact that it was unseasonably warm and your landlord hadn’t turned the AC on yet, goosebumps rose up and down your arms at the way his voice vibrated through his chest, his breath tickling your skin. Your eyes fluttered closed as you turned in his grasp, one hand coming up to feel the steady beat of his heart against your palm, the other curling around the back of his neck. “You’ve seen me in this dress before, Nicky, it’s nothin’ special.”

  Nick narrowed his eyes and brought both hands to frame your face, making sure you couldn’t look anywhere but at him. Not that you needed the direction. “You’re right. The dress?” He looked down at your ensemble and then back up, shaking his head. “It ain’t special.” You opened your mouth to get a snarky comment out, but his right hand slipped over your cheek to cover your lips. “You’re special, though,” he said, and you felt your eyes soften over the top of his hand. He let it fall away from your mouth and you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth as he continued. “I’m so proud’a you. And not just ‘cause of today. Not just ‘cause of all the work you put in goin’ after this goal.” He swallowed and you saw his eyes grow more serious. “I’m proud to be with you. Just ‘cause’a who you are. ‘Cause’a who I wanna be for you. I’m proud to be with you ‘cause you make me so much better, and-“

 “Nick,” It was your turn to silence him, bringing two fingers up to press against his lips. You moved them to place a quick peck where they just were, delighting in the feel of his smile as you did. “I’m proud to be with you. Everything you’ve been through…all the things you’ve overcome and… and everything we’ve been through together, I…” You licked your lips, moving the hand on his chest to join the one behind his neck, flexing your fingers. “I’m so damn proud’a you, too, Nick Tortano. So don’t you ever forget it, got that?” So proud, Nicky.  

  “Got it,” he answered quietly, eyes still locked onto yours. Reaching up behind himself he dislodged your hands from around his neck. “Now, we got a ceremony to get to so we better finish getting ready.” the clock in the next room chimed to punctuate his point. He pointed in the direction of the sound. “I’m not gonna be late to my girl’s graduation, I dunno ‘bout you.”

  He hurriedly resumed getting dressed, arms filling the long, starched white sleeves of his shirt. You watched him for another second, completely in love with the man in front of you. He caught you lingering as he worked the buttons through their holes, prompting him to raise an eyebrow and practically chase you from the bedroom. “Hey, I mean it! We ain’t gonna be late for this!”

  You ran to the bathroom. “Sorry!” you called through the loose laughter bouncing off the walls of the short hallway. “I’ll be quick!” You picked up your lip stain and waited for your smile to relax enough to apply it, which was difficult because it was already one of the happiest days of your life, and you knew it was only going to get better once that diploma was in your hands. You thought back to that day on the Charles River, when Nick told you that he wanted to make something for your future. We made it, Nicky.

  In fifteen minutes he was herding you to the car, carrying your garment bag and securing it on the hook in the backseat before opening the door for you. You arrived on campus exactly one minute before you were supposed to, Nick dropping you off to go find parking. He reached across the console to grab your wrist as you exited the car. “Hey,” he said as you stuck your head back in. “I love you.”

  You felt a rush of warmth through your chest that had nothing to do with the temperature which was nearing 90 degrees. “Love you too, Nick,” you said, sending a kiss through the air as you reached back to grab your cap and gown. “See you soon.” You closed the door and headed towards the area where your classmates were lining up and fixing their tassels, throwing one last look over your shoulder to catch him shedding his jacket before pulling away from the curb causing you to shake your head and grin. Told you so.  

  Like with most major life events, time on your graduation day flew more quickly than seemed fair for how many hours you put in for your degree. In a whirlwind of pictures with your classmates, some of whom you’d be working with at Boston General, speeches from the Dean and the head of the nursing program, acknowledgement of all the students graduating with honors- yourself included, two stars next to your name in the program indicating Magna Cum Laude- the ceremony flew by until it was time to receive your diploma. This is it. I’m really graduating…I’m really a nurse… I did it. The realization had been hitting you in waves over the last month, but now, standing in your row as the line of new graduates ahead of you started to move, it finally became real. Your name was called and you strode across the stage with tears of pride in your eyes, hand outstretched to shake with the Dean when a sudden ear splitting sound made your head whip around towards the crowd.

  Eyes going as wide as saucers, you couldn’t contain the laughter that burst forth. There, in the middle of the audience which was slowly melting under the sun, many of them fanning themselves with their programs, was Nick, standing on his chair with his thumb and pointer finger between his lips to release another whistle. “That’s my nurse!” He shouted at the top of his lungs. His sleeves were pushed up and his tie was loose around his throat, the top two buttons of his shirt undone and his tattoo peeking up over the collar. His grin ran from cheekbone to cheekbone, the look of absolute pride on his face completely eclipsing the clear discomfort he was in from the heat and his insistence upon wearing his one and only suit for your big day. With a chorus of giggles and “aw how sweet” mixed in with whispers of “Ugh, can you even believe that?” and dirty looks, the crowd reacted to Nick’s display of excitement. You shook your head, still not sure what you did to deserve him, but damn glad about whatever it was. The crowd quieted down and the next name was called, followed by the next until there were no more students, only graduates.

  Once tassels were turned and caps were tossed, you made your way through a sea of congratulatory hugs and more pictures until you found him standing off to the side, hands in his pockets and adoration on his face. “Hey trouble,” you said, giving him a smirk. “That was some stunt out there.” You cocked your head towards where the empty chairs still covered the field.

  He shrugged, smile growing. “I dunno what you’re talkin’ about.” He pulled his hands out to pull you closer.

  “Oh you don’t, huh?” You asked, a few strands of hair sticking to your forehead from the heat and the sweat.

  He smoothed them away and trailed his fingers down your face. “Nope. I was just givin’ you the applause you deserve, that’s all.”   

  “You’re too much, Tortano, you know that?” You closed your eyes and rose to your toes to bump noses with him.

  “Yeah,” he said, taking your hand in his. “I know. C’mon,” he gave a light tug on your hand. “There’s a…” you watched him struggle to come up with the right word before motioning with his other hand towards a gazebo in the distance, away from all the festivities. “That thing,” he pointed to the small white structure which housed a swing.

  “Gazebo,” you supplied the word for him.

  “Yeah, that thing, smarty pants,” he squeezed your hand and dipped his head to kiss your temple. “Let’s go over there for a minute, huh?”

  I’ll go anywhere you want for as long as you want, Nick. “Yeah,” you said. “Sounds good.” You let him lead you over, unzipping the front of your robe so that you could get a little relief from the heat. While all around campus, families and friends were gathering around their new graduates, you were more than content to bask in the moment peacefully with Nick. He’s all the family I need.

  “Thank you for always believing in me, Nick,” you leaned into him, head tilted to rest on his shoulder. You’d slipped your shoes off, your legs pulled up onto the swing, your robe hiked up and your cap discarded with your heels. The breeze that came through the gazebo was in no way cool, but the reprieve from the sun and Nick’s solid embrace mixed with the excitement of the day made you sigh through a relaxed smile. You turned your face to kiss the ink on his neck. “I couldn’t have done it without you, you know that?” 

 “Nah, nah no way, you definitely woulda…” the arm he had around your waist tightened, his grip gathering the shiny royal blue polyester fabric of your rented gown as he kissed the top of your head. “I had nothin’ to do with this, this was all you an’ that brilliant brain a’ yours.” 

 “Nuh uh, Nick,” you picked your head up to look at him, shaking it back and forth. Your fingers found their way into his hair, raking through the meticulous coif to loosen a few locks. An involuntary breath slipped from his lips as your nails traveled down his scalp to grip the curled ends, giving a slight tug. The breath turned into a smiling laugh, warming his eyes to the melting point. “I mean it. This program was rough. And it was long and I know I wasn’t always easy to deal with-” 

  “‘Specially around your midterms,” he joked, brushing the tip of his nose against yours and earning a light smack on the shoulder. 

  “Hey, I’m tryin’ to be serious here Tortano.” You tried and failed to keep a straight face, nose crinkling and lips twitching despite how tightly you pressed them together, too happy to even pretend that you were anything but. 

 “So’m I… you were a nightmare every time you had an exam.” He nodded and you smacked him again though you were both laughing now. He flexed his arms around you to hold you closer, keeping you out of striking range and against his chest, where your giggles spilled out onto his now wrinkled shirt. “But I always knew you’d ace ‘em,” he said softly, lips pressed behind your ear as his knuckles swept up and down your spine. 

  Your chest swelled because you knew he was telling the truth. Even when you were stressed beyond belief, buried under piles of notes and textbooks, flashcards and empty coffee mugs, he never doubted that you’d pass with flying colors. “See? See, Nick that’s what I’m talking about. You got me through this. When I doubted myself you didn’t. When I wanted to quit-” 

  “I told you you were crazy.” 

  “And I was.” He nodded. “And you knew it.” Another nod. “And you loved me anyway.” 

 “I did.” He released you from his clinch and you sat up. His arms were still around you but relaxed enough so he could lean back and look into your eyes. “I do.” He swallowed, forehead furrowing as he took a deep breath. “I always will.” He shifted then, both arms coming back around to your front. One fell to his lap in the space between your bodies. The other raised so that he could slide his palm up the side of your cheek, thumb dragging slowly over your bottom lip as it dropped open beneath his touch. You felt your heart stop at the emotion in his eyes. “I’m always gonna love you.”  

  “I’m always gonna love you too, Nick,” you whispered breathlessly, feeling yourself being pulled by the tides in the deep pools of his eyes. There was nothing in the world truer than what you’d just said. The past two and a half years had been the happiest of your life despite the hard times. Nick had made good on his promise not to get involved with another outfit, and even found a way to work for his freedom from the mob. He’d gotten a job at a local mechanic shop changing oil and filters and brake pads while he learned how to perform more technical repairs, and through an old connection- Big Al, once a button man in the mob himself who now owned a mostly legitimate garage- he’d struck a deal: two years of service to the family, no questions asked. They need a car gone? It was Nick’s responsibility to make sure that happened. Cleaned? Guess who was scrubbing blood stains out of floor mats? It wasn’t entirely safe, but it was a hell of a lot safer than the things he’d been doing when you met, and after the end of the second year came and went with absolutely no more contact from Big Al or any other known Mafioso, you could finally say that Nick was out. Done. Just like he’d told you.

  “Yeah?” he asked, one eyebrow quirked, hand still cradling the side of your face.

  You nodded and turned just enough to kiss the meaty heel of his thumb. “Yeah. Always.”

  “In that case, I got a question for ya.” The way that he was smiling down through his lashes, teeth visible between his lips told you that he was up to something.

  “Oh yeah?” He nodded and dropped his palm from your cheek to your hands, lacing the fingers of his right hand with the digits on your left. “Alright, Tortano, shoot.”

  His eyes moved quickly over your face and he leaned in to press his lips to yours for the briefest of seconds before taking his shot. “Will you marry me?” The question was out before his lips had left yours.  

  What? Time completely stopped then, the surrounding sounds on campus fading away until all you could hear was the racing of your heartbeat as it thudded wildly against your ribs and expelled the air from your lungs. “What…Nick, are you-“ Tears were flooding your bottom lids making it hard to focus on him, but you blinked them away. Is he? Is this…is this happening? “Are you s-” 

 “I’m sure,” he cut you off, tone completely steady. “I been sure for a long time.” He slid his fingers through yours, knuckles catching before he pulled them completely free of your grasp. “Wanted to wait til you were done with school to ask you,” he chuckled nervously. “Didn’t wanna wait that long though.” You joined his chuckling with a euphoric sound of your own. “Didn’t wanna wait any longer than I had to.” He fiddled in his pocket until he produced a small, black velvet box from his pocket and a gasp from your lips. “I know what I want,” he said, prying open the small container. “I want you. Always.” Nestled inside the box was a white gold band set with an oval shaped diamond, small and simple. Sunlight bounced off of the facets of the stone and sent reflections dancing across Nick’s cheekbones. He spoke your name then, slowly and intentionally, as he pinched the ring between his thumb and pointer finger and gave it a wiggle to free it from the cushioning. “Marry me,” he said, letting the empty box drop and not caring where it landed.

  It had already been one of the best days of your life. You’d finally fulfilled your dream of finishing nursing school, graduating at the top of your class and with an offer of employment at your first choice hospital. And now, the man who held your whole heart was holding a ring and asking you to wear it. “Yes,” the small word flew from your lips without even thinking. Without even needing to think.

  His face broke open in a smile so bright it rivaled the unrelenting sun. “Yes?” He asked, the steadiness gone from his voice as his fingers started to shake.

 “Yes,” you said again, nodding emphatically, cheeks already sore from the overflow of happiness you were expressing. “Yes, Nick!” You reached for his face with both hands, surging forward to capture them in a kiss, pouring every ounce of love you’d ever felt for him into it. His arms came around you as he kissed you back, a sound escaping him that was half moan, half relieved sigh. If he thought for one minute I wasn’t gonna say yes he’s crazy. You felt more warm, salty tears slipping passed your closed lids. He’s gonna be my husband. I’m gonna be Mrs. Tortano… I really do get to keep him. Always.

  You’d have stayed locked in that kiss until the sun set and rose again, but Nick broke away, his own onyx eyes damp as he rested his forehead against yours. “You just made me the happiest man on the goddamn planet.” His voice was quiet and unsteady but clearly brimming with happiness. He kissed you again, this one slow and purposeful, sending waves of emotion through your being. He pulled back again and wiped at his eyes with the back of the hand that still held your ring. “Can I…?” He held the small diamond up and glanced down at your left hand. 

You nodded. “Yeah, Nick, you can…” your small head shake flung a few tears from your cheeks as your joy changed the tone of your voice. You gave him your hand and he slid the thin band over your third finger, giving a slight push to clear your knuckle. You both took a few seconds to look at the stone on your finger, basking in its meaning. 

“Nick?” You looked up first, his eyes meeting yours at the sound of his name. He leaned forward and kissed the crest of your cheek, where another stray tear had started to roll down. 

“Hmm?” he hummed against your skin before pulling back to look in your eyes. 

“Let’s go home,” you said, pressing your lips to his cheek in a sweet kiss mirroring the one he just gave you before moving them closer to his ear and dropping your voice to as wicked a tone as you could conjure. “So I can show you how happy I am.”  

“Happy wife, happy life, ain’t that what they say?” He laughed, standing from the swing and helping you up too. 

“Hey, I’m not your wife yet, Nicky,” you set him with the same stern look you used to give him when he called you his nurse before you’d earned the R.N. by your name. It melted almost immediately. “But this time? Feel free to rush me.”

.

.

.

@something-tofightfor @its-my-little-dumpster-fire @suchatinyinfinity @gollyderek @thesumofmychoices @obscurilicious @traeumerinwitzhelden @jigsawlover10 @getlostinyourparadise @lexxierave @songtoyou @poindexted @breanime 

[himbofreddynewandyke]

creamsicle smut + freddy being conflicted

being Mr orange gave freddy the chance to be the cool guy he’d secretly always wanted to be, leather jacket and slight sneer, sure the stakes were higher but suddenly he didnt have to worry about his actual life, could act how and dress how he wanted, drink and blow smoke and banter with Cabot’s men, and they bought it. he was always waiting for someone to cry out, not “hey, this guy’s a cop!” but “hey, this guy aint one of us, he’s a fuckin dweeby loser” but that never happened. mr orange fit right in.

and when mr white flirted with him, freddy newandyke would've just blushed and stammered and made an excuse to leave, but mr orange flirted back, sent mr white longing looks while biting his lips, making sure the older man knew exactly what was on his mind.

White was confusing to freddy, he was dangerous, dangerous as hell, during their conversations he slipped mentions of his previous violence into them so casually – because it was casual for him, but freddy found everything about him strangely arousing, the way he was so sure of himself, the way he could be so brash yet a gentleman, he joked about time he kneecapped some mouthy guy once while they were eating burgers then ten minutes later offered his lighter to an elderly couple at the next table who were having trouble with theirs.

freddy had known he was gay since he was a young teen, not just gay but the worst type of fag, the type that wanted to be on the receiving end of sex, the type that wanted to be the more submissive partner. he may have been a social inept kid but he’d been smart enough to know to keep his mouth shut about crushing on other boys. as an adult he'd been with men a few times, never any names or kisses or beds, anonymous handjobs in club bathrooms, quick and hurried and always left him feeling dulled and wanted more. after he joined the police force his fear of his sexuality being found out and his own self hatred kept him celibate, and if he spent most nights thinking about being held and kissed and fucked by another man - his mind wouldn’t allow him to entertain the word ‘boyfriend’ - then that was his business only. and now, while he was playing this role, fitting in for the first time in his life as mr orange, this opportunity had fallen straight into his lap. He wanted mr white. He wanted mr white to fuck him, wanted this brute to rid of him of his pesky virginity, it was dangerous, it was dumb, but the undercover job had given him a type of courage he could’ve never possessed by himself.

white was definitely into him, freddy suspected he’d organised all their excursions together outside of joe’s orders, and one late evening when they were driving around, when white had slipped his hand on freddys knee but not gone further, was when freddy realised the older man was waiting for him to make the first move. so he made it, put his hand on white’s and brought it up higher, guided it over his thighs then over the top of his crotch. white didn’t react at first, just parked the car, then lent over and kissed him hard, his hand on freddys neck pulling him in. when they reluctantly broke apart, white started up the car again “my place is only about 10 minutes away”. feeling bold, freddy had kept his own hand on whites inner leg the whole way there.

once they got inside of his apartment, white tossed his car keys on the table then pulled freddy over to a couch, pulled him onto his lap so he was sitting and freddy was straddling him, then started kissing him again, slower this time yet no less forceful, his hands slipping under freddys jacket and undershirt. "he knows what he's doing" freddy thought "oh thank fucking christ, he knows what he's doing." freddy grinded up against white, couldn't help letting a whine escape him, he kissed down whites jaw n started sucking at his neck, white lifted his head up and pressed their foreheads together "what do you want sweetheart, we'll do whatever you want" he said. freddy licked his lips and swallowed "i want you to fuck me". White grinned, "yeah?" "yeah" freddy confirmed.

After a few more minutes of necking white led him over to the bed, and stripped them both effortlessly while still making out with freddy, this confirmation of his experience helping to relax freddy, white was running his hands over freddys sides and it was strangely tender and soothing, not at all what freddy had anticipated, but that he enjoyed nonetheless. They explored each others bodies, hands everywhere and kisses all over chests and shoulder, freddy growing red at how much his body responded to whites movements, arching into his touch, the stupid noises he was making.

When they were face to face again white gave freddy a small kiss on his lips "still want me to fuck you?" he said "yes" freddy said, not sure what he was supposed to do, but white had turned away, going thru the drawer of his nightstand, pulled out a tube of lube and a foil wrapper. Oh, right, a condom. Freddy felt mildly stupid, wouldnt have thought in the moment to ask about protection, then relief that white was the kind of guy to not have to be asked to wear one.

Freddy got onto his hands and knees on the bed, feeling self conscious, the most he'd been since he became mr orange. "you want me to be like this?" he asked, white rubbed his lower back and arsecheeks, "whatever position you want baby" "ok" freddy said, still unsure.

when white slid a lubed finger into his arse, he gasped and slid his arms down, buried his face in them. "shhhhhh" white soothed "that ok?" freddy was breathing heavily but stuttered out "yeah". "just relax, ok baby?" white slowly fingerfucked him, added another finger then a third, the whole time checkin in with freddy. Then he removed them, freddy kept his face hidden against his arms with his arse up, could hear white quickly opening and putting on the condom, then squirting more lube on, felt the head of his cock against his hole, then inside him, inching in slowly, giving him time to get used to the feeling. Freddys legs were shaking and white rubbed lil circles over his outer thighs, "good boy, you're doing so well baby". Freddy was so out of his element, appreciated the encouragement. it occured to him that white had probably seen past mr oranges sneering overconfident swagger, could tell it was freddy’s first time doing this.

there was a slight burn and stretch, but sex didn’t hurt like freddy had anticipated. Freddy was suddenly grateful that white hadnt given him the rough fuck he was expecting, was going slow, steady thrusts, could feel whites hand on his back and neck, reassuring him. White gently pulled out, "we're just gonna change positions baby" and freddy let him manipulate his body, couldnt stop him if he wanted to, onto his side with white behind him, pressed against him. White brought freddy’s leg up and then guided his cock into him again, freddy giving a sharp intake of breath at the new angle. This was nice, white's arms around him now, and white kissing the back and side of his neck, "sweet boy, such a gorgeous boy" he breathed into freddys ear, and freddy twisted his head so they could sloppily half-kiss. One of white's hands started on his cock as he continued fucking freddy at a slow rhythm, freddy didn't feel close to coming but didnt care about it now, all the new sensations he was feeling tonight were enough, the warmth of white pressed up against him, and inside of him, and his arms around him. White muttered "gonna cum" next to his ear, and soon did with a grunt, freddy thought he could feel the fat cock pulsing inside him. White didn't continue thrusting but kept his softening cock inside of freddy as he jacked him off, freddy was exhausted, didn’t think he could come just then, he felt like telling white not to bother but couldnt get the words out, didnt realise he was still slightly shaking. White continued switching different rhythms on his dick until freddy came suddenly and unexpectedly with a small yell.

When white slipped out of him and let go freddy wanted to bury his face in his arms again but couldnt move, then felt white's weight back on the bed, pulling him over so they were facing each other, started kissing slowly and lazily, and that was just what freddy needed, he moaned, sunk into white, he could hear him muttering “gorgeous, youre fucking gorgeous baby” then white rolled over slightly so freddy was curled into his side, occassionally pressing small kisses on whites chest, white running his hand through freddy’s hair. “you enjoyed that orange?” freddy smiled weakly, bone tired and still processing what happened, “yeah”. white groaned and yawned “i’m tired as hell, we’ll shower in the morning” “you want me to stay the night?” freddy said surprised. “sure, if you wanna. im not gonna fuck you then make you sleep alone” white said

it wasn't supposed to happen like this, white – this man who just yesterday was bragging about how to cut a man's fingers off for defending his business  – was supposed to fuck him, be rough with him, be every stereotype that freddy anticipated, then send him off into the night. Instead he'd been more tender and sweet than freddy could’ve imagined, than he had a right to be, than anyone would ever treat freddy again, had made sure he was ok and called him pet names, called him gorgeous. Freddy should've left right then. Instead, he did the worst thing possible. He burst into tears

this was the icing on this whole mistake cake, not only was white gonna think that he was some foolhardy whore who spread his legs for the first man who’d have him (which, an hour ago, he couldnt have given a damn about it, maybe thats what the reputation he wanted for mr orange), now he was gonna think he was emotionally disturbed.

"hey, hey" white's hand slipped down from his hair and started rubbing his back, bringing him in closer, which just made freddy sob pathetically more, bury his face into white’s neck. "I didn't hurt ya did i?" freddy shook his head and managed to whisper out a "no". "you're just feeling a bit vulnerable?" and freddy said "yeah", white continued to rub his back while making shhhh soothing noises, said “you’re ok, you’re good sweetheart”. freddy soon calmed down, whites hand never leaving him, neither man talking. freddy usually had trouble falling asleep but exhausted after his crying fit and with the warm body pressed beside him he went to sleep quickly

when he woke up, it was still dark, he and white had drifted apart slightly during the night but white still had an arm resting over him. Freddy rolled over which woke White up with a grunt. "wassa time?" he muttered. freddy looked at the digital alarm clock on whites nightstand "just after 3am" white gave another grunt as thanks, his eyes closed "c'mere" freddy sunk into his side again, let white lazily sling an arm around him, then he leaned over and started softly kissing along whites shoulder and neck "love how affectionate you are kiddo" white said, his eyes still closed "go back to sleep, i'll cook you something nice for breakfast in the morning"

no one had ever described freddy as 'affectionate' before, but then again he'd never been this affectionate – nor recieved anywhere close to this amount of affection – before. For the first time since he began the job, freddy felt guilty, for letting white treat him so good, treat him like a lover. He didnt feel like supercool Mr Orange anymore, just felt like a rat. He wondered what would happen between him and white, whether they could do this again (and again and again). He wondered if he could somehow get white a leaner sentence, lie maybe, say that white was forced to do the job to pay back a debt to Joe, but even in his head he knew White wouldn’t go along with it, he was an honourable guy, just with a really fucked up code of honour. For one crazy minute he wondered if he could just abandon everything, the police force, his whole life, and just drive off together, he and white living life on the lam. He yawned and wondered what white was gonna make him for breakfast.

[butwhyduh]

Let's Run Away

Tom Holland x Reader mob!au pt4

Warning: smut, guns, alcohol, gambling, boxing

Word count: 1670

Summary: In the 1920s, during the height of prohibition, in New York City, Tom holland, an unknown from London, tries to make his way around the New York crime world with his lover Y/n. When he owes an influential crime family money he'll do anything to pay them back. Is it too much?

Author note: Robbie- Sebastian Stan, Vinnie- Ian Somerhalder. Not representative of their real personalities.

Glad rags are going out dresses.

The Eager Beaver was a small potatoes joint. A lot of workers and lower ranking members of the mobs visited it. They paid both the Moretti and O'Neal's to keep it a neutral ground. The head bosses never visited the joint.

Across town was the Bee's Knees which couldn't be more different. It was a O'Neal joint. The mob bosses could often be seen working there. It was safer from the police because the mob paid well and New York City police knew they didn't have the power to take them down. They had nice tables and chairs. The dance floor shone high gloss. Unlike the Eager Beaver, that often had a mixture of all people wearing everything from suits to construction gear, the Bee's Knees had a code. If you came here, you came in your best.

Every Tuesday and Thursday they had a big fight. A boxing ring was placed on the dance floor and the stage was covered in tables to place bets. They often had 3 separate fights starting smallest to largest. Large quantities of money was exchanged at these events.

Johnny was going to raid the place. He had roped in Tom, Haz, Ollie, and Trev, plus 2 of his own guys. Robbie and Vinnie sat at a card table in the back of Johnny 's warehouse. The building was quiet at this early hour. Johnny came strolling in with a tray containing coffee mugs and a pot.

"Cuppa coffee, anyone?" He offered. Haz and Robbie both took a cup. "I have the plans here," Johnny said unrolling a set of blue prints. It was the Bee's Knees in detail.

"Alright, so we know that every Friday and Tuesday they have fights and a lot of money comes in. They don't pay until Saturday morning. We are going to take them for everything they've got. It'll be thousands of dollars in one safe. There are 3 locks and 2 guards to get through. We just need to get the keys during the fight and then come back later. We have about 8 to 10 minute to get in and out. I think we can do it in 5. No one will know who did it. I'll claim you helped me with a shipment to explain the money."

"Tom you need to be look out. Bring your girl to the fight and show her a good time. You will distract security if needed. Your girl could fake fainting if needed," Johnny said. Tom tensed at the idea of involving Y/n.

"Haz, bring someone too. You'll be doing the same. Tom will sit here," Johnny pointed to a seat near the office. "And Haz, here," he pointed to a seat near the back exit.

"Vinnie and Ollie will sit near the main doors. And Trev will distract the bartender for Robbie to get the keys. If all goes well then we just enjoy the fights before leaving. We'll come back around 2 to get the stuff. I'll explain that after we get the keys. Does everyone understand?" Johnny said looking at the group.

"I don't like involving Y/n," Tom said. Johnny nodded.

"You could leave her home alone for the Moretti to talk to her again," Johnny countered. "Or you two could buy your girls some dresses to show them a good time," he said handing both Haz and Tom some money.

Tom stiffly nodded. He hated this idea but what choice did he have? Haz smiled uncomfortably. He was going to have to ask Dot. And she couldn't know what he was even doing.

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

Tom had stopped at a shop on the way home and bought a dress for that night. He knew what they expected there and Y/n had never been. He hoped that you wouldn't be mad at him when he got home. He cautiously walked in the tiny apartment. You stood at the sink washing dishes. You appeared normal except for the knife held in the band of your apron.

"Hey pretty girl," Tom decided to say. The last thing He wanted was to scare you and get stabbed. You turned around quicker than usual with your hand going to the hilt of the knife. "It's just me, love. I got you some glad rags," he sad offering the bag.

You took the bag and sat at the small rickety table. You pulled out a dress that was the most expensive and beautiful thing you had ever owned. "How did you get this?"

"I need your help tonight," Tom said before explaining the plan. You looked at him cautiously. Your hand ran on the fabric of the dress. It was softer than anything. He did say all you would be doing is watching a boxing match. You touched the spot on your cheek softly.

"Okay. We'll do it."

You stood in front of your mirror wearing the dress. It was butter yellow, knee length, hung loose from the hips down. The back was open to the small of your back. You ran a hand on the beading along the neckline. It was beautiful.

"Holy hell. I'm not sure if I can let you leave," Tom said grabbing your hips from behind. "You are gorgeous, love," he said as a hand ran up to cup your breast. The thin material provided little barrier.

"We have to get ready," you reminded him as he placed soft kisses on your neck.

"We have time," He said huskily pulling at the ribbon in the back. He unbuttoned it and the dress slipped to the floor. Tom ran his hands along your body as you watched in the mirror.

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

This was your first time at the Bee's Knees. It was owned by the Moretti and very expensive. Of course, Johnny had paid the group's way. He stood proud of himself wearing a navy suit with a blue undershirt and striped tie. Tom had put on a classier and older black suit with white shirt and tie.

Tom had a hand firmly on your bare back to keep you close. He hated involving you. You smiled politely at all around. After shaking a few hands He guided you to 2 chairs near the office. You looked at the ring in the middle of the room. Men walked to the tables on the stage to make bets and back to their seats.

Men of wealth from all over the city filled the room and many had beautiful women on their arms. You felt poor but also excited. You didn't know if you would ever see this life again. Johnny sat down in a seat near the ring, turned in his seat, and winked at you both. Tom grabbed you both a glass of champagne, real champagne, from a waitress walking by. How they had gotten it from France with the laws against alcohol in New York was a mystery to you.

"Excuse me, sir?" Said a nervous man in a waiter outfit. Tom looked at him. "This seat is reserved. If you could move here," he motioned to 3 rows closer to the ring. Tom nodded and stood. You followed to your new seats. He felt nervous at the thought of being farther from the office. This wasn't part of the plan.

Soon the seats began filling up around you. Haz sat across the room with Dot who was gorgeous in a blue dress. Her red hair looked even more beautiful. Right before the fight was to began a group of people split the crowd and sat in the seats you had been in. It was clearly the Moretti family. The elderly man of the group was the leader and everyone deferred to him. You felt Tom tense next to you.

"You have that gun, right love?" He asked leaning into your ear. Your blood chilled at the thought of needing it but you nodded. You could feel the cold metal strapped to your thigh. "If anything happens get low and run."

The crowd cheered loudly. It was an odd sight to see people in fancy clothing cheering loudly. Two men walked into the ring. They were thin but very fit. This was the lightweight fight. You had never seen a boxing match in person. Generally the spots Tom watched the weren't the best places for women.

A man acting as referee stepped in the ring. The two men squared up and bumped hands. A bell rang and the ref backed up. The two boxers began dancing and throwing their gloved hands at each other. The crowd cheered as they connected. You gasped as one particular hit rocked the fighter. He spit blood on the mat. Tom grasped your hand lightly.

Soon the bell rang again and the pair stepped back to their corners where they were given water and rags to wipe the blood. Waiters fluttered through the crowd bringing drinks and cigarettes to spectators. Soon the pair squared up again and the bell rang.

The hometown favorite swung hard to hit the jaw of the taller man. He rocked back slightly and got a jab to the ribs as punishment. He managed to dance away from the next hit. He threw a hook to the favorite's ribs. He exposed his face and got a hard jab to the nose. He bled freely on the mat. He swung wildly and the favorite jabbed him quickly in the jaw and the man went to the mat.

A gun shot sounded in the room and you froze. You felt your blood thicken in horror. Tom pushed you from your chair to the ground and wrapped his arms around you.

"We have to get out of here, pretty girl. Stay with me," Tom said pulling a gun from his waistband. You remembered the revolver on your hip and reached for it. "Safer if you didn't, love. Not enough space."

Taglist: @alilblogger @captainbuckyy @peterparkers-waffles @smexylemony @tony-starks-ego @oh-dear-tommy @highladyjel @spiderboytotherescue @hollandroos

Please message to be added or removed from tag list.

[princess-of-the-worlds]

high by the beach

To @misssophiachase. Happy Birthday, babe! You asked for something beach!AU. I kinda cheated and went with a beach resort au. I hope you like it!

Caroline pushes her over-sized sunglasses - yellow to match the bright flowers on her white bikini - further up on her forehead, frosty margarita in hand as she struts her way toward the hotel pool area. There are multiple pairs of eyes on her as she walks, and she arches her neck, enjoying the attention and appreciation. She didn’t work on all those ab crunches during fall and winter to cover her shapely body in baggy sweaters all year.

Someone wolf-whistles, and she shoots them a quick smile and a flirty wink.

She’s drawing closer to the pool now, able to spot Bonnie and the Petrova twins from where they’ve settled down over a cluster of pool chairs. And besides them is the last empty pool chair that’s under the shade of the palm trees that enclose the pool.

She tips her head back slightly, her face basking in the warm rays of the sun.

God, she deserves this vacation, what with all the overtime she had to work this spring to secure those reclusive but highly-popular authors that her bastard of a boss, Damon, kept driving away from their publishing house.

There’s a quiet chime from her phone, nearly inaudible over the loud chatter and splashes from the pool, but Caroline only hears it because her ears became so attuned to the familiar sound over the last few months.

It’s a message from the devil himself, Damon:

Blondie, N. Mikaelson just committed to us. We’re publishing his next bestseller.

Caroline experiences a brief thrill of excitement and triumph (N. Mikaelson was one of the authors she worked so hard to secure, emailing him extensively over the last six months), but it’s quickly overpowered by bone-deep exhaustion and a burning desire to get to her pool chair and shed off the stink of her five-hour long flight.

Except, when she glances back up from her phone, someone is now sitting in her pool chair.

“Fuck,” she hisses and storms towards the pool, bypassing Elena as she begins to wave hello.

She’s practically vibrating with fury by the time she arrives in front of the pool chair and lays eyes on its occupant.

He’s a gorgeous, gorgeous man. Sandy curls that are mussed fashionably. Dimples. An aristocratic nose. And that torso, oh that muscular torso with the faint golden hairs that trail downwards before disappearing into his navy shorts.

But that doesn’t matter; none of that matters. Not when he’s the bastard who stole her pool chair.

The man in question, when he notices her standing over him and glaring, raises his sleek black Ray-Bans to reveal inquisitive dark blue eyes that trail slowly over Caroline’s body. “May I help you, sweetheart?” he drawls, flashing her a brilliant but arrogant smirk.

“No, you may not,” Caroline rages, bristling, and the man’s eyebrows raise. “The only thing you can do, and should do, is get off that pool chair because it is mine!”

He chuckles in response, turning to exaggeratedly search the chair. When his eyes return to meet Caroline’s gaze, they are highly amused, and she huffs with irritation. “Are you sure, sweetheart?” he asks softly. “Your name’s not on it.”

“Ugh!” She resists the urge to stomp her feet and wail like a toddler. “I had my eye on it! It’s right next to my friends.” Caroline gestures toward Bonnie, Elena, and Katherine, all who are watching her and this hot but aggravating man with curiosity.

“But you didn’t leave your belongings here or even ask your friends to drag the chair closer,” the man tells her, raking a hand through his messy hair. “Thus, I don’t think the finders-keepers principle applies here. Next time, do try to be faster.” His smirk only grows wider.

“Look here, buddy,” Caroline starts. “I have had a long day. My plane was late, and there was a baby kicking my seat the entire time. All I wanted to do was unwind by the pool, margarita in hand.” She gestures to the now-liquid drink in her other hand. “Give me the fucking pool chair.”

“Now, I have a proposition for you,” the man begins, but Caroline never gets to hear it because, at the exact moment, a stunning blonde from the other side of the pool yells for a “Nik!”

The man groans, propping himself up and rolling his eyes when there’s another call for “Nik.” Turning to Caroline, he smiles slightly. “I guess you got lucky, sweetheart. Enjoy the pool chair.”

Caroline decidedly does not watch the man’s shapely ass as he retreats towards the blonde and smiles smugly as she slips into the pool chair, slides down her shades, and begins to sip her now-watery margarita.

“One of us is gonna get laid tonight,” Bonnie prophesizes as she, Elena, Katherine, and Caroline step inside the club.

“How can you be so sure?” Katherine asks slyly, arching her neck. She’s already making seductive eyes at a hot brunet across the dance floor.

Caroline rolls her own eyes. “I don’t care if she’s right or not. I just need to get laid.” She struts off, tossing her curls behind her.

Finding a guy to flirt with can come later. Right now, she just needs to lose herself on the dance floor.

Nearly an hour later, Caroline stumbles away and heads for the bar. Her head is aching from the flashing lights and the pounding bass, and her minidress is glued to her skin in random places from her sweat, the hemline creeping higher and higher up her bare thighs as she totters in her high heels.

“One strawberry spritzer,” she tells the bartender, leaning an elbow on the counter as she slides up onto a stool.

She taps her fingers restlessly on the counter as she waits, but within minutes, the bartender is handing the liquor-filled glass to her. Caroline tips him with a few loose bills from her clutch before slipping off the stool and making her way towards the dance floor.

Then she promptly collides with someone else, and her drink slips from her hand and spills all over herself.

“Fuck!” she cries, but her shriek is swallowed up by the volume of the dance floor.

“You really should watch where you’re going, sweetheart,” a familiar voice says as a hand presses down on her shoulder to steady her.

Caroline’s gaze shoots upwards.

“You,” she hisses. “You’re the bastard who stole my pool chair. You’re Nik!”

“So, I am,” he responds dryly. “And I see you’ve discovered my name.”

“Thank your girlfriend,” Caroline shoots back, and Nik groans, expression looking truly disturbed for a moment.

“Now, why did you have to go and do that, sweetheart?” Nik complains. “We were having a civil conversation. Rebekah’s my sister, not my girlfriend.”

She blushes slightly and begins to apologize, but her rage ignites again when her eyes dip down and catch a glimpse of the damage the drink has done. “You ruined my dress!” Caroline exclaims. “It was Prada!”

The white fabric is stained a reddish-brown, and there’s bits of chopped strawberry sticking to the neckline.

“I just bought it,” she adds mournfully, now too focused on the dress to pay heed to Nik.

“That stain will be near-impossible to remove,” Nik chimes in, mouth turned up in a frown. “I will admit that I am partly at fault since I glanced down at my phone for a moment and walked into you, but you too could have been looking up.”

“Fine,” she says shrilly without looking up, still prodding at the fabric. “We’re both at fault. But my dress is still ruined! What am I supposed to do now?”

Nik doesn’t answer, his fingers swiftly unbuttoning his dark-colored shirt. He shrugs it off, leaving him in a white undershirt that doesn’t look out of place with the rest of the attire in the club, and offers it to Caroline. “Here, sweetheart. Consider this my apology.”

“What?” Caroline is taken aback, mouth gaping open slightly. “I can’t just take your shirt. I’m a total stranger!”

“Sweetheart, we’ve already bumped into each other twice in the last two days at a resort that claims to be twice as large as Disneyland. You accused me of stealing your chair,” Nik tells her, chuckling. “We’re practically dating at this point. Now, just take the shirt, and when you get back to the hotel, ask for it to delivered to the room of Marcel Gerard.”

Nodding wordlessly, Caroline takes the shirt and slips it on, tugging it and adjusting it in a way that it covers the front of her dress. “Thank you,” she responds quietly, unsure of how to react now that her anger has faded away.

“No need to thank me, sweetheart,” Nik drawls, his playful tone smoothing some of Caroline’s awkwardness and tension. “I’m just making up for stealing your pool chair.”

Caroline regains enough of her composure to roll her eyes at Nik. “Finally!” she states triumphantly. “You admit it. You are a pool chair thief.”

“I guess I am.” Nik shrugs, his lips stretching into a mirthful smile. “Now that apologies have been made, are we familiar enough with each other that I will be able to ask for something quite daring? Perhaps your name?”

Throwing back her head to laugh, she prepares to answer, but Elena suddenly appears at her elbow, expression harried.

“Caroline, there you are,” the brunette says in relief. “We have to go. Katherine got in a bar fight with this guy who tried to follow her inside the women’s bathroom. Bonnie’s got her out front in a taxi. Let’s go.” She doesn’t even spare a glance for Nik.

Before Caroline can protest, she’s bundled off by Elena, barely managing to wave apologetically at Nik. “Sorry,” she calls behind her.

“Don’t be, Caroline,” Nik shouts back with a smirk, his accent caressing her name in a way that makes her sigh. “Knowing our luck, I’ll be seeing you soon.”

There’s knocking at her hotel room door, barely audible over the shower, but Caroline still turns the faucet to turn off the flow of water and slips a plush, oversized bathrobe on as she goes to open the door, pulling it wide enough open to stick only her head out.

“Good morning, Ms. Forbes,” the uniformed hotel worker says with a polite smile. “There was a note delivered for you from another guest.”

“Oh, um.” Caroline bites her lip, peering further out the door and down at the cream-colored envelope in the hotel worker’s hands. “I wasn’t expecting anything, but thank you.” She reaches and takes the envelope, smiling at the hotel worker as she closes the door and locks it.

She slips out the note and unfolds it as she returns to the bathroom.

In elegant but messy handwriting, it reads:

Caroline, I know that we have had few and brief interactions, but I would love to see you again. Please meet me tonight on the hotel room for dinner.

It’s signed by Nik.

Caroline gasps, her heart fluttering slightly. She didn’t expect Nik to ask her on a date even though they shared undeniable chemistry, but now that he has, she’s elated. Glad.

Well, looks like she’s cancelling her evening plans with her friends.

Caroline’s putting the finishing touches on her lip, blush-colored to match her peony-printed sundress, when her phone rings, startling her enough that she nearly smears her lipstick over her cheek. She quickly caps the tube and drops it none-too-gently onto the bathroom counter, hand scrabbling for her phone.

She flips it off, eyeing the contact name of her caller, and groans.

Stefan Salvatore

Stefan is Damon’s brother and his counterpart at the publishing firm. Caroline likes him; they’re friends who lunch occasionally, but every time Stefan calls out of the blue, it’s always related to something Damon fucked up and means more work for Caroline.

She swipes on her phone screen to accept the call, pressing it to her ear.

“Hey, Care,” Stefan says. “How’s your vacation going?”

It was fine until you called, she thinks.

“Get to the point, Salvatore,” she sighs. “You didn’t call me just to chat when you know I’m on vacation. What do you need?”

Stefan makes an apologetic sound. “Sorry, Care, but you’re going to have to cut your vacation short. Damon was fired, and we’re gonna lose N. Mikaelson to our rivals. We need you to come back.”

“Fuck,” Caroline cries, running her hand through her perfect curls and mussing them up. “I took this vacation after so many years. I worked so much overtime to get Mikaelson to sign on. We can’t lose him!”

“I know, Care,” Stefan tells her regretfully, “but there’s not much I can do. I’ve been up day and night for the past week trying to secure our other authors.”

“When did Damon get fired?” she asks slowly.

“The day you left,” Stefan admits. “I’m only calling you, because you’re our last resort. If we lose Mikaelson, two years of our hard work goes down the drain.”

“Fine,” Caroline sighs again. “When do I leave?”

“I bought a ticket for you. The flight leaves in an hour and a half. You have maybe an hour to get to the airport,” Stefan explains.

Shit. Even if she speed-packs, she’ll barely be able to make it to the airport. And Nik, oh Nik. She’s never going to make it to dinner, and she doesn’t know how to tell him that. She doesn’t have his phone number or even his full name.

“Care? You still there?” Stefan asks.

“Yup. Still here. Gotta go now. Have to pack. Bye.” She cuts the call and rushes to her suitcase, mind whirling.

Caroline may not know his phone number, but she knows a name for a hotel room that he’s connected to. She quickly flips the note over and grabs a pen, scribbling on the back of it.

Nik, I’m sorry, but something’s come up. I won’t be able to make dinner. Sorry, Caroline.

It’s two weeks after she was forced to leave her vacation early, and Caroline is exhausted in every sense of the word.

She’s spent most of her time since she returned from the resort in her office, sending frantic emails and chasing after N. Mikaelson’s team, and they’ve finally secured a meeting with the reclusive author himself today.

She should be triumphant, but her mind’s still fixed on a certain British man.

“Caroline,” Stefan says, drawing her attention away from the file she’s drearily gazing at. He smiles at her. “I can’t believe that this happening. We’ve worked all year for this.”

“I gave up my vacation for this,” Caroline mutters.

His expression becomes sympathetic, and he slides a comforting hand over hers. “Care,” he says, looking her in the eyes. “After this, you’ll be getting much more than a vacation. Damon’s position is still vacant. If they don’t promote you, I’ll eat my own shoe.”

“Don’t do that,” she jokes. “Your shoe is Italian leather, and you’re vegetarian.”

Stefan chuckles, reaching for a pile of stapled papers and straightening them. “Good to know,” he says just as there’s a quick knock at the door. “Come in.” He turns to Caroline and mouths It’s them.

She clears her throat with a cough, straightens up in her chair, and steels herself to meet N. Mikaelson.

The first man through the door is tall, broad-shouldered, brunet, and dressed in a stylish grey suit. “Good morning,” he says. “My name is Elijah Mikaelson, and I am my brother’s manager.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Caroline says as she stands and shakes Elijah’s hand. “And where would your infamous brother be?”

“Right here, sweetheart,” comes a familiar voice as Nik shoulders his way through the doorway, informally dressed in a grey Henley and jean. “My name is Niklaus Mikaelson. Klaus to most people. Nik to you. And I believe, Caroline, that you still owe me dinner.”

[strangermarvelss]

mission report- b.b | part 1 |

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader 

Summary: Bucky is assigned to be fake married to Natasha on a mission. Given their history, you’re not happy about the idea.

Word Count: 2.2k+

Warnings: angst, swearing, alcohol, semi-nudity, you may not like Natasha after reading this

A/N: idk why but this idea randomly popped in my head at work and I really liked it. enjoy!- sava

Silence filled the air following Nick Fury’s mission details. Your attention was focused on the empty space on the table in front of you, trying to process why Nick would even suggest such a thing. Just the thought of what was about to occur made your skin crawl and tears prick at the corners of your eyes.

The mission was simple. Distract the H.Y.D.R.A agents and subtly get information out of them. The complicated part of the operation? Nick wanted people everyone in pairs, acting as girlfriends/boyfriends. One pair would be interacting with the agents directly, while the others would be there as backup. Wanda and Vision, which wasn’t a problem, Clint and Maria, You and Steve,… and, the one that made your stomach churn, Bucky and Natasha.

“Me and...Nat? As a couple? Why that pairing, if I may ask?” Bucky asked, crossing his arms as his eyebrows furrowed at Nick. You flinched at the nickname he gave her, but at least your own boyfriend found the pairing for the new mission as weird as you did.

“Because Mr. Barnes,” Nick began to say, pulling up a hologram that disclosed more information about the mission before everyone’s eyes. Your eyes darted to the hologram, avoiding everyone’s gaze as you tried your best to focus on the information. “You and Ms. Romanoff are some of our best agents. Ex-assassins and all, we need to get this intel from these last remaining H.Y.D.R.A agents, who will be at this event. And I’ve picked you two to do that, all in a disguise of course,” he finished.

“Wouldn’t it just be easier to send Steve as Natasha’s ‘date’,” Bucky asked, his voice growing agitated. Given Bucky and Natasha’s history, you understood why he didn’t want to go through with being her pretend boyfriend for the night, because being her actual one was hell for him years ago. It was one of the reasons you didn’t want that happening either. 

You weren’t a stranger to feeling insecure. There were millions of pretty girls around the world and, fro some reason, Bucky chose you, a plain jane girl who just so happened to know how to kick some ass. Natasha, on the other hand, could kick your ass and several more, all while managing to not even break a sweat and ruin her complexion. She was beautiful and talented, a dangerous combination which meant you couldn’t keep up. It managed to make you weaker on the inside than you already were.

“Trying to disguise Steve Rogers, also known as ‘America’s Golden Boy’, isn’t as easy as you think, Barnes. He can’t just wear a baseball cap and a pair of glasses like he did back in D.C, especially to an event like this,” Nick quipped back at Bucky, snapping you back into reality. 

“But what if Bucky is recognized through his disguise because of his past with H.Y.D.R.A? Wouldn’t it make sense to use someone like Wilson or Barton, in a case like that?” You asked, annoyance laced in your voice. You could see out of the corner of your eye that Bucky’s face fell slightly, his eyes averting away from your gaze. 

Nick turned to look at you, his expression one of pure anger. Constantly pushing him during meetings was not something he liked, and to say we had gone too far was an understatement. “Is there a problem, Ms. Y/L/N?” He asked, raising his brows.

You bit the inside of your cheek, keeping your remarks at bay. You shook your head and flashed him a fake smile. “No, no problems at all,” you told him. Nick finished giving everyone the final details and waved everyone off. You jumped from your seat and were the first one out of the conference room, running down the hall and towards your quarters.

You and Steve stood at the bar at the event, ordering drinks for yourselves. You were only allowed two drinks per person as you needed to look like you belonged to the event, but you needed to be sober enough to relay any information that you received during the mission. If you had to witness Bucky being Natasha’s fake boyfriend, you definitely needed alcohol in your system.

“Everyone’s coms working?” Steve asked over the coms. Everyone answered almost immediately and he nodded, extending an arm out to you and escorting you towards the table Nick arranged for the two of you to sit at. 

As you sat down, you saw Bucky and Natasha sitting two tables away, her brunette wig resting nicely on her head, looking almost as if it weren’t a wig. As apart of the mission, Nick requested that Bucky cut his hair for his disguise, as his prior hairstyle was too recognizable on him. His new hairstyle was a typical one for men in now-a-days, almost matching Steve’s, gel mixed within his gorgeous brown locks that styled it upwards. With his hair looking like that on top of the fitted navy blue suit he was wearing tonight and the white gloves given to him to hide his metal arm made your heart beat faster just taking in the sight of him.

Damn he looked amazing tonight.

Your face fell and your turned away from them, trying to focus your attention on something else. You felt a hand wrap around your arm and you looked up to see Steve flashing you a sympathetic smile. Natasha was his friend, but so were you. Hell, you were dating his best friend, and seeing you so upset about the current situation made him feel bad. He also knew that you were insecure and you let it get the best of you at times, he being the only one on your teammates knowing that little fact about you. That doesn’t mean people didn’t have their suspicions. 

Across the room you spotted your best friend Wanda and the love of her life Vision talking, Wanda wearing a beautiful red, floor length dress and Vision wearing a classic black tux in his human form for his disguise, and Clint and Maria sitting three tables away. Clint was wearing a red suit jacket with a black bow tie and a white undershirt matched with black slacks, and Maria was wearing a sparkly navy dress that reached to her calves. Everyone looked so great tonight, even Steve, who was wearing a black, velvet suit jacket with a black bow tie and a black undershirt, along with black slacks. 

But not you. You wanted to be better than great. You stepped it up a notch. You were sporting a long, floor length, black dress, that came out in an almost a-line style look, with silver decals that came up from the bottom and reached up to the waist. Your neckline was a plunging v-neck, showing off major cleavage. You had to buy that special double-sided boob tape for this event, which you never thought you’d do. Even for smokey eye and brows were perfect tonight. You even wore the diamond earrings Bucky bought you for your one year anniversary. Everything else was perfect about tonight, except for the fact that you couldn’t spend your night with your boyfriend. 

“Eyes up people. The agents just made their way into the ballroom,” Nick said in the coms. He was on the upper level of the venue, dressed in a curly afro wig, which looks better than how he described it before, and a pair of sunglasses along with a simple black and white suit, so he didn’t draw too much attention to himself. People might think he’s being pretentious with the sunglasses inside, but Tony does it all the time, so why can’t he? 

“One more thing. Barnes, Romanoff, you two look like you’re here on your first date rather than two people who are supposed to look like they’ve been together for a while. Try and play your parts, alright?” Nick whisper-yelled into the coms. You sipped on your drink as you listened to him, anxiety coursing through your veins. 

You felt Steve’s grip on your thigh tighten as he reached with his free hand to mute his com for a moment. “Nothing bad is goi-,” he began to say, but you were distracted by your worst nightmare happening right in front of your eyes.

Bucky’s hands were cupping Natasha’s cheeks, careful not to ruin her makeup or to ruin her wig. He slowly leaned into her, his lips softly brushing against her and began to move in sync with one another, causing the people at their table to cheer them on. Her arms wrapped around his neck and she wove her fingers in his hair, tugging slightly. The kiss was practically all tongue and teeth, that could even be seen from a distance.

Your entire world began crashing down before you. The only things moving around you were Bucky and Natasha as his lips moved from hers to her neck, planting soft kisses and nibbles on the base of her neck, the exact thing he would do to you back at the compound. 

You couldn’t breathe. You were struggling for air. You knew being apart of this mission under these circumstances was a bad idea, but you didn’t really have a choice, especially after Nick got angry with you after you questioned him in front of everyone.

You rose from your seat abruptly, turning your com of and placing it in front of Steve on the table. You tried to squeeze by people, but you felt Steve’s hand wrap around your wrist. Your chin began to wobble as you turned to look him in the eye, his blue orbs full of sympathy and pity.

“Y/N, don’t-,”

“Tell Nick I’m sorry, but I really can’t be here and torture myself while that’s going on just a few tables away,” you cut him off as you nodded your head in Bucky’s direction, your voice breaking throughout your sentence. You broke free of his grasp and squeezed by the chairs that sat at your table, making your way around to the front of the venue as quickly as you could but without making too much of a scene.

As you exited the building, you let the breeze hit your face hard, but not really feeling anything of it. You looked around for a cab, but thought about all the shit you would be met with once everyone else arrived back at the compound. You weren’t ready to face everyone after what just happened, especially Nick and Bucky. You were most likely going to lose your job because of your actions and your boyfriend because of past feelings that arose between him and Natasha, all in the span of a night. You don’t just kiss someone like that if you’re just acting. 

Just across the street, you saw a fancy hotel begging to become your new safe haven, at least for the night. You walk over to the crosswalk and quickly make your way over, walking into the lobby and right up to the front desk. You took your card out and asked for a room, trying your best to keep your tears from falling out of your eyes. You could see the pity in the worker’s eyes as she helped you get a room, but at this point, you truly didn’t care anymore.

You took your keycard from the lady and went to the elevator, pushing the button and watched the doors close. You were thankful that you were alone in the elevator, because that’s when you were willing to let a few tears slip down your cheeks, effectively ruining your makeup that was perfect before that shit went down.

You exited the elevator and moped to the room number you were given. As you open the door, you were welcomed with a large, king sized bed that you were so glad to see. Unfortunately, you looked up to see that your view was of the venue across the street where everything had just happened. You went over to the window and pulled the curtains shut, not wanting to be reminded of him or her or this night any longer.

Reaching behind you, you grabbed the zipper of your dress and let it pool at your ankles, leaving you in just your underwear. You went to the bathroom and grabbed one of the complementary robes and wrapped yourself in the soft fabric.

As you climbed into bed, your thoughts went back to Bucky, how he kissed Natasha just like he would kiss you. He didn’t even bother to compliment you on how nice you looked for the event, never once talking to you, and after all that effort you put into looking good for not only the event but for him for some potential fun when the two of you got back home, before...the kiss happened.

 You felt a pang in your chest, an all too familiar feeling that you’d been feeling within the recent hour. You buried yourself under the comforter and began to cry. Bellowing into the pillow, probably ruining the expensive object with your makeup filled tears, all in an unfamiliar hotel room because you couldn’t bear to see the person that supposedly loved you. 

Bucky taglist: @buckybarnesappreciationsociety 

Permanent taglist: @amillionfandoms-onlyoneme , @multireality , @thefridgeismybestie , @httpmcrvel , @lanilovepsychos , @vesper-lou , @ssweet-empowerment , @jadalecki-jackles , @crazybubblegumgurl , @ria132love  , @my-beautiful-wings-blog 

[project-runway-rankings]

Season 4 Episode 5 - Trimming The Fat

AKA Steven. We all knew he wasn’t going to win. Or Ricky...he can go too. At least Elisa and Chris have a fun personality and the potential to make great clothes. Steven was just soooo boring, a nervous wreck, and ultimately not a fit for the competition.

And we need to talk about Jack. I wish that they would have brought him back in Season 5 but I didn’t really see him having a chance of going far. That didn’t stop RuPaul from bringing back Eureka, though...

The challenge was to take a former heavy lady’s old clothes and make a new outfit for her hot and flexible body that allows her to walk the runway in all different positions. It’s reference, look it up.

11. Steven

“ The challenge was to take a former heavy lady’s old clothes and make a new outfit”. Steven did not do that. The only things from her previous outfit is the white detailing. And the look is an overall disaster anyway.

10. Jillian

“The challenge was to take a former heavy lady’s old clothes and make a new outfit”. Jillian did not complete this brief either. She should have been booted down to the bottom like Steven, and Miranda in Season 12.

9. Chris

Oh no. I’m glad Chris got to come back just because he is a sheer joy to watch, but good god, this is a mess. The black V neck looks like an ill-fitting undershirt, the bow is costume city, and those cups are a flop, literally. There is some interest in the design of the top, but it’s not executed properly.

8. Elisa

This is a lesson in how NOT to do proportions. The jacket is already slightly too long for her body, and paired with that chopped up slip dress it makes her look even shorter. The boots add even another later of chop. There are 5 total levels to her lower body: jacket, dress, dress pt. 2, legs, and boots. Not a good look.

7. Sweet P

Meh. That’s the best I can say about this. That color is gorgeous on her models’ body, but then again she didn’t pick the color, her model did. This looks like a $7 dress deal from Old Navy that you buy in May and has fallen apart by September.

6. Kit

I really hate when slips are longer than the over dress, it just looks sloppy. And this print seems to be a running theme with Kit. The top works great for her model, and the wide waistband defines her shape. It’s a good dress, but not anything she couldn’t have bought from Kohls’.

5. Ricky

Another solid entry, but nothing extremely special. The tunic and capris look great on his model. The embellishments around the neckline really accentuate her face and he styled her perfectly. I have issues with the sheerness of the shirt, it bothers me that i can see her pants. It’s nice, but nothing that wows me.

4. Rami

Rami is essentially going to get the same critique as Kit and Ricky, a solid look, but nothing I can’t find at a department store. Once again, the look is extremely flattering on his model, and I like the mix of the fabrics. The skirt looks like it has jacket or shirt seaming, so I am assuming she brought that with her. If he bought the shirt fabric he did a great job pairing it with the skirt.

3. Victorya

This ranks this high mostly because of the absolute atrociousness of the velvet gown she originally had to work with. This does look like a custom dress for this woman, though it is a bit dated. The velvet is quite gorgeous and I love the way she has placed it on the dress. It’s classically beautiful, but without much innovation.

2. Kevin

Two designers really knocked this out of the park, one of them being Kevin. Given what this monstrous yellow blazer looked like before makes this look even more impressive. That top is divine, and really looks like a custom designer piece. It high lights her cleavage well and makes her look bright and happy without looking slutty. I get lost at the leggings, much like Michael Kors did. They seem like a bit of a cop out.

1. Christian

A lot of the designers created nice new pieces for their clients, but Christian really made his model look like a supermodel. The detailing on the jacket is signature Christian Siriano. The pants fit like a glove, as does the jacket. And you can tell this woman loved her look.

I really hope she kept this. Can you imagine having a one of a kind Christian Siriano piece now?

Judges’ Top 3: Christian, Kevin, and Jillian

Judges’ Bottom 3: Chris, Elisa and Steven

[alexskylar]

Away on Business

An erotic cuckolding tale by Alex Skylar

Mark pulled at the knot of his tie as he stepped into his hotel room and dropped his briefcase on the bed. It had been a long day of business meetings, but it was finally over. At just past five, he had three hours before he was supposed to join up with his colleagues for dinner and drinks.

He took off his dress shirt and slacks, then pulled out some jeans and a simple t-shirt for later. Right now, he was perfectly content to relax on the bed in just his boxers and a white undershirt.

Mark hated these monthly business trips, but it was a requirement of the job. He was working as one of the chief executives of a large restaurant chain. Every few months, the regional executives would meet up for a conference with the heads of the company. It was rough to spend an entire week away from his wife Amber every few months, but the fact that they lived in pure luxury was enough to make up for it.

Mark had acquired a lot of wealth very early on, and by his early thirties, he had built himself a powerful network of financial friend who helped him grow his riches until he could live comfortably amongst the upper class.

As he lounged on the clean white sheets, Mark’s thoughts turned to his wife. A lot of people would consider her to be a trophy wife, and by all accounts, she certainly would qualify as such. She was an average height, with a perfect toned body. Because she didn't have to work, she spent most of her days keeping her physique in pristine condition. She exercised several hours a day, and maintained her smooth blonde hair and perfect skin with regular visits to the salon and spa.

They had met early on in Mark’s career. She had always pushed and motivated him to do more, and a lot of his success was due to her support. Now he could provide for her, and he loved that. As much as she looked like a trophy wife, she had worked hard and shown her dedication to her husband. She made him happy, and he loved to make her happy in return.

The only area where Mark felt like he didn't really measure up was in physical appearance. Amber was stunning, especially compared to his average appearance. She was always incredibly loving with him and never complained about his performance in bed, but it occasionally occurred to him that it would be impressive to actually see her with an equally beautiful man.

With a few hours to kill, Mark pulled out his phone and decided to text her to see how she was doing.

“Hey, honey! How are you?” he messaged her.

“I’m great baby! I can't wait for you to get home tomorrow.”

“I know,” Mark replied. “A week is way too long to be apart from you.”

“Yes, it is. I need you to get back and fuck me again. I’m getting tired of my toys!”

Amber had a very healthy sexual appetite. She was often waiting for him at home in some form of lingerie when he got back from work. For trips like this one, she had purchased a huge array of toys to satiate her needs while he was away.

“I’m getting tired of my hand,” he replied sympathetically, laughing to himself.

“Well, just one more night and then we can see each other,” Amber answered with a hint of optimism. “What are you up to tonight?”

“I’m just going out with a few of the guys from the team tonight. How about you?”

“I have that dinner tonight with Linda and her husband, Jack. The one you were supposed to go to before they called you down there,” she said with a hint of aggravation.

Linda was an acquaintance from the neighborhood. She wasn't a particularly pleasant person, but she was running for some leadership position at the local country club, and she was trying to butter up a lot of the big names at the club. She had been courting Amber’s vote, and had suggested a private dinner at her extravagant timeshare. She had even hired a personal chef for the evening.

Her husband Jack was a nice guy, maybe ten years older than Mark. He played tennis every day and was in great shape for his age, with dark black hair that was peppered with a few early grey hairs. Mark had always wanted to become better friends with him, but his wife always seemed to butt in and interrupt their plans.

With Mark out of town, it would just be Linda, Jack, and Amber for the evening.

“Oh, are you still going to that?” Mark asked, hoping she wasn't too upset at him for not being there.

“Yeah, I would feel bad canceling,” she said. “They already booked the timeshare and the cook, so it would be a waste of their money if I bailed, too.”

“Well, that's nice of you. When are you leaving?”

“I’ll probably head out in a half hour. I already finished my hair and makeup, so I just have to figure out what to wear.”

Before Mark had gotten the call about this trip, Amber had been talking about finding a way to make the night more entertaining. She had planned to wear a sexy little white minidress with a zipper that ran from the bottom hem all the way up to the low-cut V below her neck, with a sexy new bra and panty set underneath. Her goal was to tease her husband all night until he was ready to rip her clothes off by the time their guests had left.

“Do you still have that new lingerie you bought to wear for me?” he asked.

“Yeah, but there's no point in wearing it now if you aren't here to see it.”

“Nonsense,” he replied to her. “You should wear it anyway, along with that dress I like. Don't let it go to waste.”

“I suppose I could do that,” Amber conceded. “It does make me feel sexy. I just wish you could see the underwear, though.”

“So send me a picture.”

A few minutes went by, and a picture message came through. Mark opened the file and felt his jaw drop open. Amber had tucked her body into a lacy pair of white boy shorts and a full lacy white bra that lifted her breasts into the perfect contour and position. They didn't really need a bra to stay in place, but this one somehow made them look even better.

“Damn, maybe I will have to revisit my hand one more time tonight,” he replied, laughing at himself again.

“You better be thinking about me if you do!” she snapped back. She loved having his attention, and Mark had no problem giving it to her. “Maybe I should find something else. Linda doesn't have much of a rack, and I don't think she’ll be happy about her husband staring at mine.”

“Well, maybe that will keep her from getting too friendly! Besides, her husband will love you for it.”

“You're so bad!” she replied jokingly. “I kind of like the idea, though. I guess I will stick with this.”

Something about the idea of his gorgeous wife showing herself off for another woman’s husband stirred Mark’s cock and got his heart racing. He pictured her in that dress, with Jack sitting across from her and trying to maintain eye contact, thinking about how badly he wants to fuck her. It was an intriguing thought, but it took a deeper turn when Amber texted him again a few minutes later.

“Oh, great. Linda got sick on the way to the timeshare, and now she’s not going to be able to make it.”

“That’s too bad,” Mark answered. “I guess that means the whole reservation was a waste.”

“Actually, Linda says Jack is already there and I should go join him. They can't cancel the reservation, so she wants me to enjoy it. Would that be inappropriate?”

“My beautiful wife having dinner alone with an attractive older man in an expensive suite? No, not at all!”

There was a part of Mark that actually meant that, even though the tone made it sound completely sarcastic.

“You're right,” she answered. “I’ll tell Linda that I can't go.”

“No, honey, don't do that,” he replied quickly. “Just go and have a good time.”

“Are you sure?” she asked again.

“Yes, go have fun. It’ll be good for Jack to get an eyeful of something nice to think about when he jerks off later.”

“Mark!” Amber snapped back at him. “He isn't going to jerk off thinking about me later. Why would you say that?”

“After staring at those tits all night, then going home to Linda, I’m sure he will be.”

“Well, it’s a good thing he can't see what I’m wearing below this dress, because he would probably have a heart attack.”

Mark felt the sudden urge to push the conversation on a different direction. His cock began to twitch, and he reached down to slowly stroke himself through his boxers. The soft fabric felt good against his erection.

He wanted her to be a little naughty. He wanted her to show off on purpose. He wanted her to turn on a married man the way she was turning him on right now.

“Maybe you should lower the zipper on your dress so he can see a little bit of it,” he suggested candidly.

“Mark, you are so bad! Stop it! You don't want me showing off for him like that.”

“I mean, I kind of do,” he admitted. “Just tease him a little. There's nothing wrong with that.”

“I’m sure he wouldn't mind,” she mused. “I’ve got a better ass than his wife, too, and it looks great in this dress.”

“Damn, I really wish I was there to see it!”

“That's okay, baby. Jack will get to enjoy it for you!”

Her words were slightly sinister, yet somehow sexy. Not only was she going to flirt with another man, but she seemed to be enjoying giving Mark a tease as well. His blood began to boil with the excitement and his cock swelled.

“You're so naughty,” he replied.

“Oh, stop it. It’s not like he would actually make a move on me.”

“And what if he did?” Mark fired back.

“With how horny I am, I would probably drop to my knees in front of him!”

“Amber!” Mark snapped back.

“Ha ha, you started it!” she said playfully.

“I did,” he admitted, “and now it's got me hard.”

“Thinking about me on my hands and knees? Of course,” she said with an implied eyeroll.

“Amongst other things,” he continued.

“You’re touching yourself, aren't you? Tell me what you're imagining.”

“You, on your hands and knees in that bra and panty set you bought for me, with a big cock fucking your beautiful mouth.”

“Mark, you're going to get me horny and I have to leave soon,” she texted.

“I know.”

“To go to dinner with another man.”

“Yes.”

“A long romantic dinner in an expensive suite with a big bed.”

“I’m so fucking hard right now,” he said, struggling to contain himself.

“You really like this?” Amber asked incredulously, when she suddenly realized he wasn't joking.

“I do. I’m as hard as a rock right now.”

“You're such a dirty man. I love it!” she answered. “So if Jack does pull his cock out tonight, what do you want me to do?”

“You know,” he said simply.

“No, tell me,” she urged.

“Suck his cock,” he answered firmly.

“Oh my god, this is so crazy. Are you sure you want me to do that? Like, for real?”

“I don't know,” Mark hesitated. “I’m just so turned on right now, and it sounds so incredibly hot.”

“You do know how this is going to end if I do suck him off, right?” she asked.

“You're going to fuck him, aren't you?”

“Yes. If I suck Jack’s cock, I am going to fuck him, too. I can't suck a dick without getting fucked after.”

Before he could agree or disagree, Amber cut his reply off with another message.

“I have to go soon, Mark. Please, don't cum yet. Wait until after you get back from dinner.”

“Why?”

“Do you want me to flirt with Jack?” she asked. “Do you want me to be naughty?”

Mark stared at his phone nervously. He was placing a lot of trust in her, but at the same time his mind was too twisted by his hormones to think straight.

“Yes, baby,” he answered. “I want you to do it.”

“Then wait until later and I will tell you all the dirty things I did. You can cum for me then.”

“What exactly are you going to do? Mark asked nervously, questioning how far this game would go.

“What do you want me to do?”

Her words danced hauntingly as he contemplated his answer.

“Flirt with him. Tease him, too. Be naughty.”

“That's easy. I could do that even if you were there. Is that where I should stop?” she pushed.

“No,” he said hesitantly. “Do more.”

“You have to say it, Mark. I want to tell me what you want me to do tonight”

“If he hits on you, let him,” Mark told her. “If he tries to touch you, don't stop him.”

“You’re so bad, baby. Okay. I will let him touch me,” she replied seductively.

“Really?”

“Yes, baby. Tell me what else you want,” Amber continued unrelentingly.

“Do you want to suck his dick tonight?”

“No,” she replied, “but I will if you want me to do it.”

“I do,” he answered simply.

“You know what is going to happen, right?”

Mark took another deep breath. He had stopped stroking himself when she said she wanted him to wait, but his cock was so hard, it ached. He squeezed it tightly to relieve the pressure, but avoided stroking it.

“I know. I want you to be bad,” he said finally.

“Tell me you are okay with Jack being the first man to take these brand-new panties off of me.”

Mark groaned audibly, shaken by her wanton behavior. He wanted her so bad in that moment, he would have allowed her to do anything she wanted.

“I’m not just okay with it. I want him to do it.”

“Fuck, baby, I love your dirty mind so much! I’ll do anything to make you happy. Just don't cum until we both get back. It might be a little late. Bye, my love.”

Amber was gone. Mark dropped his phone and took a deep breath. He decided a cold shower was in order before his night out, so he undressed and spent the rest of the evening trying to distract himself from the image of his wife and Jack, alone in that luxurious suite together.

 Amber put down her phone and took one last look at herself in the mirror. Physically, she was proud of the shape she was in. Some people might consider her a gold digger because of her beauty and her husband’s wealth, but the truth was that she really did love Mark. He was fun to be around, he always made sure she had everything she needed, and he never insulted or put her down. She had no problem staying loyal to a man who was so incredible toward her, and she would still feel that way even if they didn't have a dime to their name.

Amber loved the idea of flirting with Jack too, though. He was a handsome man, and always good company. She enjoyed being around him too, even though his witch of a wife was always there.

Amber gathered her things and headed to the car. She punched the address into the GPS, then made her way to the timeshare.

Questions floated through her mind as she cruised down the highway. Would Mark be as excited if she actually went through with it and fooled around with Jack, or was that just pillow talk fueled by a crazy fantasy? There would be no way to tell without actually doing it. If he really wanted this though, then why should she say no? It was his fantasy, and she wanted to do whatever she could to make him happy.

As she got out of her car, Amber decided that she would let fate decide. She would be sweet and flirty, and if Jack made a move, she wouldn't say no. If he wanted her, he would have her. It would all be up to him.

Amber made her way up the walkway to the private suite. She paused before she knocked on the door and looked down at her skin tight mini dress that hugged every curve of her body. The zipper was all the way to the top. She pulled it down a few inches until the edge of her white lace bra was visible, then smiled. A little extra skin might help her chances.

Amber knocked on the door, and moments later it swung open. Jack was waiting for her with a warm smile on his face.

“I’m glad you could join me this evening,” he said, holding out his arms and giving her a friendly hug. “You look amazing tonight.”

“Why, thank you!” she said as she blushed.

Jack’s arms felt strong, even just in the brief hug he gave her. When Amber stepped back and saw his handsome face again, she felt a little giddy with excitement.

Maybe this was going to be a pretty good night, after all.

 Mark got back to his room a little after eleven in the evening. He had spent all night trying to distract himself and failing miserably. It didn't take long before he was second-guessing himself, struggling with the idea that he had given his wife permission to sleep with another man. Maybe she had just been messing with his head when she told him to wait. Just because she had his permission didn't mean she would go through with it.

He kicked off his shoes and stripped down to his boxers, then climbed under the sheets and pulled out his phone.

“Hey, baby, are you there?” he texted her once he was situated.

“Hey, honey. How is my man doing?”

“I’m good,” he replied calmly. “We just got back from dinner though, so I’m a little buzzed. Are you home?”

“Of course, Mark. I was out for dinner, not a night at the club!”

“Well, I wasn't sure if something had happened,” he admitted. “I figured you might have stayed later if it did.”

“He wouldn't have been able to stay late regardless. Linda was texting him all night, so he left by ten to get home. It was kind of funny. I think she ended up getting pretty nervous about the two of us being alone together.”

“Well, I can't really blame her, especially considering how you look compared to her,” he said. “How was the food?”

“Amazing!” she replied. “I didn't eat much because it all tasted so rich, but it really was quite delicious.”

“When did you guys finish eating?”

“A little before nine. We stayed a little longer after the service cleared the dishes and just chatted while we finished our champagne. There was a huge fireplace with a comfy couch in front of it, so we sat and talked for a bit.”

“You talked for an entire hour?” Mark asked, feeling a little suspicious.

“Yeah, why?” Amber responded. “Are you feeling a little jealous now?”

“Maybe just a bit.”

“You're crazy, honey. You should go back and read what you were saying to me earlier! You sounded like you really wanted me to do it!”

“I know,” Mark said. “It was crazy. I was so turned on. I don't know what came over me.”

“Would you be mad if something really did happen?” Amber asked.

Mark felt his heart skip a beat, then start racing. Amber seemed to be dancing around his questions, refusing to say if she did or did not do anything.

“I can't really be mad, since I gave you permission,” he said. “Did something happen?”

“I mean, I did tease him a little.”

“Really, babe?” Mark typed. “How?”

His fingers were shaking, which made it difficult to get even the simplest words into his phone. He watched the screen intently, every second feeling like hours.

“You told me to lower the zipper on my dress, so I did. I’m sure he liked it, because he kept glancing down at my cleavage all night.”

Mark imagined his wife in her low-cut dress, sitting across from Jack as he stared longingly at the curves of her breasts protruding from the top of her dress.

“Wow, that's amazing,” Mark said. “I knew he would love that. Was that all you did to tease him?”

“Not exactly,” she continued hesitantly. “After we sat down on the couch, I was feeling a little tired, so I laid my head down on his shoulder while we were talking. After a while, he put his arm around me and I felt really comfy and relaxed. It was nice. It was all pretty innocent until his hand moved off my hip and ended up on my breast.”

Mark felt his breathing stop for a moment. He blinked a few times and everything kicked back in high gear. His heart was thumping in his chest and his cock was as hard as a rock.

“What? You didn't stop him?” he asked.

“I was going to, but then I remembered you said I should let him touch me if he tried, so I let it happen.”

“Then what happened?” Mark pried.

“When I felt his hand on me, I turned to look up at him. That was when he kissed me.”

Mark felt his stomach wrench into a knot.

“What the fuck, Amber?” he typed furiously.

“I know, I’m so sorry! I just felt so comfortable, and I knew you wanted me to tease him, so I thought it wouldn’t hurt anyone to have fun and go with it!”

Mark took a moment to compose himself, taking a few deep breaths. This wasn't her fault. In a moment of heated passion, he had told her should could do whatever she wanted, and she had taken him at his word.

“It's okay, it's not your fault,” he told her, trying to console her. “I told you that I was okay with it.”

“I know, but I should have said no.”

“Just tell me the rest,” Mark pushed, wanting to know the whole truth.

“Are you sure? If you want to hear it, I’ll tell you, but I refuse to lie to you. I’m going to tell you the whole truth, and if you are really upset that we kissed, then I don't think you're going to want to hear what happened after that.”

“Just tell me,” he repeated.

“Okay,” she started. “We were making out in the couch, and I started rubbing his leg. My hand moved up until I felt his cock through his pants. He was already hard, and I started thinking about what you had said about imagining me on my knees in that new lingerie. So I stood up in front of him and pulled the zipper all the way down, then took my dress off for him.”

“Fuck,” Mark replied bluntly, feeling himself starting to sweat. “Don't stop. What did you do next?”

“I dropped to my knees and unbuckled his belt, then pulled his pants off. His cock was right in front of me, so I just went for it.”

“You sucked his dick?”

“Yes,” Amber replied bluntly. “I sucked Jack’s cock.”

“Was it small?” Mark asked next, hoping for some consolation to make him feel better about the situation. If that was what he wanted though, he had asked the wrong question.

“No, not at all,” she replied quickly. A few moments later, she added, “Sorry, he’s at least a few inches bigger than you.”

Mark felt his cock aching for release. He had never been this turned on before.

“What happened next?” he pressed.

“I sucked him on the couch for a few minutes, and then he scooped me up and carried me into the bedroom. The bed was a huge, luxurious sleigh bed with super comfy sheets and a thick, fluffy comforter. He laid me down on it, and I went back to sucking him while he stood over me.”

“Did he cum in your mouth?” Mark asked next, once again hoping for some consolation, hoping that she had just stopped at the blowjob.

“No,” she said simply.

Mark stared at his phone, waiting for more, but he could feel her hesitating.

“Tell me,” he said finally.

“Jack was the first person to take these new panties off of me.”

Mark took a deep breath, fighting back his orgasm. She had fucked him. His beautiful wife had actually fucked another man, and he couldn't be mad at her. He had given her his blessing.

“He fucked you,” he said.

“Yes, baby,” she replied nervously. “He fucked me. I told you I would want him to fuck me if I sucked his dick, and you told me you wanted me to let him! I’m so sorry.”

“Again, you don't have to apologize. I told you I wanted you to do it. How long did he fuck you?”

“It wasn't very long. Maybe twenty minutes once we were in the bedroom.”

Mark had finally found something comforting in the situation. At least it had been a brief tryst.

“Did he make you cum?” he asked next.

“Yeah,” she answered sheepishly.

“Really?” he replied, wanting more.

“Yes, he really did. I mean, it was such a crazy situation. I was with someone different than you, which made it exciting, and I thought you wanted me to do it, so it made it even hotter to think that I was turning you on, too.”

“Was it good? How did it end?”

“Baby, don't ask me these questions if it's going to upset you,” Amber begged him. “I thought you wanted me to do this. The last thing I want to do is make you more upset.”

“I’m not upset,” Mark confessed. “I’m actually really turned on right now. I’ve been touching myself the whole time we’ve been talking.”

“Really?” she asked, clearly relieved. “I was so scared you were mad at me and going to leave me!”

“Never, baby,” he assured her. “I’ll always love you, no matter what. You just caught me a little off guard. That's it.”

“Oh, thank god! Don't cum yet then! I want to tell you the rest of it.”

“There's more?” Mark wondered incredulously.

“Just a little bit more. He had me bent over the bed and was fucking me from behind when I felt him start to slow down. I knew he was almost done, and suddenly he just dug his fingers into my flesh and started grunting. He came so hard, I could feel it shooting inside my pussy!”

“Oh, fuck, baby,” Mark said. “You let him fuck you raw with no condom?”

“Yeah, he didn't have any and I couldn't stop myself. I figured you would like it better that way anyway. Was I right?”

“Absolutely!” he replied enthusiastically. “So what happened after that?”

“We both got dressed and cleaned ourselves up,” Amber continued. “We went to leave and he started kissing me again. It was so nice, I just stopped and enjoyed it for a few minutes. My hand brushed his crotch, and that's when I realized he was hard again!”

“Wow, really? I knew he wouldn't be able to resist you!”

“I know! Linda was blowing up his phone though, and I knew we wouldn't have time to go for another round, so I dropped to my knees and started sucking his cock again. I think that was probably one of the best blowjobs I have ever given. It only took me two minutes to suck him off.”

“Holy shit, Amber, that's incredible!”

“I know, baby. I was just so horny, I couldn't behave.”

“I can't believe you had another man’s cock in your mouth an hour ago. I can just imagine him pulling out and spraying his seed all over your perfect tits.”

“Mmm, I love your dirty mind, baby!” Amber replied excitedly.

“So, you liked the way he fucked you?”

“I loved it, baby,” she answered.

“Do you want to fuck him again?” Mark asked.

“I don't know. I mean, you were the one who wanted me to fuck him, and I wouldn't have done it if you hadn't suggested it. So, I guess you're the one we should be asking, not me!”

“You can't ask me that now! I’m so turned on right now, I would probably let you do anything you wanted with anyone you wanted!”

“Ha-ha, I know,” she conceded. “I just wish you could have been there to see it all happen.”

“All four of us?” he asked.

“No, just you, me, and Jack.”

“The three of us in bed together?” Mark said, pondering the idea.

“Anywhere, really. The bed, the couch, a table.”

“You aren't joking, are you?”

“Not at all,” she said firmly. “If you're ever in the mood to do something like that again, just let me know.”

“You really liked it, didn't you?” Mark asked.

“I told you I wasn't going to lie to you,” she replied. “I absolutely loved it.”

“Are you hoping I’ll be in the mood again sometime soon?”

“Yes,” she replied.

“You want to fuck Jack again?”

“Yes, honey,” she continued. “I hope I can do it again someday.”

“Fuck, baby, I love hearing you say that! Are you touching yourself, too?”

“Mmhmm,” Amber replied. Mark could imagine the purr in her voice if she had spoken the words to him.

“I want you to think about his cock while you touch yourself,” Mark teased. “Think about how good he felt inside you, less than two hours ago. Think about how hard he made you cum all over his hard cock.”

“Oh god, baby, you’re so bad! I’m going to tell you one more thing that happened tonight, and then I want you to cum for me. Okay, baby?”

Mark took a deep breath and braced himself.

“I will, I promise. What is it?”

“When I was blowing him right before he left, he didn't pull out and cum on my tits. I let him cum in my mouth, and I swallowed every single drop of it. I can still taste him.”

Mark dropped his phone as his cock suddenly erupted in his hand, spraying warm goo all over his belly and the sheets around him. He had never had an orgasm that intense, and it felt like everything inside him had shot out through the tip of his dick. It took a few moments before he could collect himself enough to return to his phone.

There was a message from Amber waiting for him.

“Are you still there?” she had asked after a few minutes of silence.

“I’m here. I just came so hard!”

“Me, too! God, I love you!” she responded excitedly.

“I love you, too!” he said.

The two of them talked lovingly for a bit, then said their goodnights. Mark was looking forward to seeing Amber the next day. He tucked himself into bed and passed out with images of Amber on her knees dancing through his head.

 It was almost a year later when Amber was walking down the sidewalk of the open-air shopping mall. She wanted to pick up a few things, but she wasn't exactly sure what she needed. The only solution for a problem like that was to walk around and see what she stumbled across.

As she made her way around trying to find her first stop, she thought about her husband. Mark was out of town for the next week on another one of his big business trips, and that meant another five days alone. She loved having him around, but every time he left her alone like this, she found her thoughts wandering back to that one trip the previous year.

Amber still loved Mark with all her heart, and she was still happy with their sex life. That weekend had been something different, though. The sex with Jack really had been incredible, but it was just a quick rendezvous. She often wondered what it would be like without Linda waiting impatiently for her husband to return. In addition to the physical pleasure of being with another man, the resulting conversations with Mark afterward had been so intensely erotic.

She had hoped that the thrill would continue when he got back from his trip, but it faded off very quickly. Mark had been really happy to see her, and the sex was incredible the night he got back, but he never brought it up again after that. She kept trying to hint at doing a date night with him and Jack, but he either missed the clues or had no desire to go through with it. Perhaps she had misread his interest when they were texting about it.

The sexual highs she had felt that weekend were like nothing she had ever experienced, and she was disappointed that she couldn't feel that way again. She would still be a loyal wife, but she would just have to be content with their vanilla relationship.

Amber decided she would buy something sexy to wear for Mark when he came home. Maybe that would stoke the flames of his desire. Once again, though, she found herself struggling with what to get him. She decided the best way to figure it out would be to go straight to the source. She grabbed her phone and shot a message off to him.

“Hey, baby, how is your trip so far?” she said.

“Thrilling,” he responded sarcastically. “I’m stuck in meetings until ten tonight. I can't wait for this day to be done!”

“I can't wait for this week to be done!” Amber replied. “I miss you so much!”

“I miss you too, baby. What are you up to today?”

“I’m out shopping,” she replied.

“Oh yeah? Are you picking up anything good?”

“I haven't decided yet,” she said. “Maybe I’ll get something to surprise you when you get home. What should I buy?”

“Hmm, how about a new pair of matching bra and panties?”

“You're so easy to please sometimes,” she typed, then giggled to herself. “Let me look around and see if I can find something you’ll like. Give me a few minutes.”

“Oh, I get pictures too? I like this game!”

Amber blushed, then looked around for the nearest lingerie store. Even after all of these years, she still got excited teasing him like this.

A half hour later, Amber had picked out a simple black bra and panty set. It wasn't overly sexy, but it was a great way to start and it showed off her tight little body quite nicely. She snapped a picture in the dressing room mirror, then sent it to Mark.

She was just finishing up at the cash register when she got his reply.

“Damn, you look so good. I wish I was there so I could kiss every inch of that beautiful body!”

“Glad you like it!” she replied as she stepped outside on the way to another store. “What do you want to see next?”

“How about a dress?” he asked.

Amber loved the way she looked in skin tight dresses, so this one would be fun. She glanced around and picked her destination, then hurried along.

A half hour later, she had picked the perfect dress for Mark. It was a mini dress with long sleeves and a high neckline. The body of the dress was a black lace over a beige inner lining, but the whole thing clung to her body like plastic wrap. It showed the full curves of her breasts as well as the round perfection of her ass. She smiled excitedly into the mirror as she snapped the picture, knowing that she was teasing her husband mercilessly when he wouldn't be able to see her for almost a week.

“That looks good, but you're pretty covered up in that one. I like it better when your cleavage is hanging out!” he said when he finally was able to answer.

Amber had just stepped into a store with tons of bathing suits, and she knew that would satiate his need for skin.

“Well, I can't go around exposed all the time,” she told him before she started looking through the various patterns.

“Yeah, but there’s no zipper to lower on that one,” he answered.

Amber stared at her phone perplexed for a minute before it suddenly dawned on her what he was saying.

The dress she had worn on her night out with Jack had a zipper running up and down the front. The whole idea of sleeping with him had started with Mark’s simple suggestion that she lower the zipper to show him a little more cleavage. As a result, Jack spent the whole night staring at her rack, which gave her the confidence to open herself up to his overtures. If it hadn't been for that zipper, she might never have experienced the incredible night of passion that had followed.

It was the first time since that trip that he had alluded to her liaison with Jack, and she wondered if she could inspire some fun thoughts in his head.

“Oh my god,” she replied. You remember that?”

“Do I remember you fucking Jack? It’s a little hard to forget.”

“You're making me blush!” she told him. “I’m working on picking out a bikini for you. Give me a few minutes.”

Amber grabbed a cute two-piece suit with some sort of wildlife pattern on it. It held her breasts up perfectly while showing off most of her body. She hurried to the fitting room and slipped it on, then snapped another picture for Mark. His reply was swift.

“That's much better. Now I can see more of you!”

Amber knew exactly what she wanted to say, but she hesitated for a moment. She wanted to be bold, and she wanted to keep Jack on his mind.

“That's all you get for now. Just a tease… like the one I gave Jack!” she texted, then went to the cashier to pay for her new swimsuit.

“If I remember correctly, Jack got much more than a tease that night!” he replied as she was just sliding into the driver’s seat of her car.

“I suppose you're right,” she said. “You should probably focus on that meeting of yours before you start to get too hard. Do you remember what happened last time you got yourself turned on thinking about me with another man?”

“I remember very well, but it's too late. I’m already having a lot of dirty thoughts.”

Amber smiled at her phone. It was working!

“Tell me something dirty, Mark. Please?” she pleaded.

“That night you went out with Jack, I jerked myself off four times.”

“Really?” she replied, honestly surprised. “Were you thinking about me being with him when you did it?”

“Yes,” he admitted. “Every single time. I know it's weird that I was thinking about you and another guy while I was touching myself, but I was so turned on. I’m sorry.”

“Don't be sorry!” she replied. “I’m glad you told me. I think it’s really hot!”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” she continued. “I love it that you think about me, even when you masturbate. Were you thinking about him fucking me?”

“Yes,” he replied plainly.

“Did you imagine me sucking his cock?”

“Yes.”

Amber smiled and squeezed her thighs together. She could already feel herself getting wet just thinking about all of this.

“Have you thought about it since you got home from that trip?”

“Every day,” Mark replied.

Amber felt her heart flutter. They had both been fantasizing about the same thing, but neither one of them had been brave enough to admit it.

“I wish you had told me that,” she said. “I think about it all the time. Maybe I’ll buy something to wear for Jack the next time I see him…”

“Amber! Oh my god!”

“Is that a no?” she replied hesitantly, worried that she had taken it too far.

“I didn't say that,” Mark replied, and she smiled to herself.

“Tell me what you want,” she pushed.

Her phone sat silent in her lap for several minutes. Amber was starting to wonder if she had scared him off when it dinged again.

“I want you to buy something for him, and just for him. Okay?”

“I will see what I can find!” Amber replied excitedly, then slid her phone into her purse.

She was about to get out of the car when another thought passed through her mind. She stopped herself and pulled her phone out one more time, then rolled through the contacts until she found Jack’s name. It wouldn't hurt to just say hello, right?

 Mark got back to his room around ten. The meeting had let out a little early and several of the other executives were going out for drinks, but he found himself much too preoccupied to try and socialize. He bowed out, claiming a headache, then retreated to his room.

He quickly stripped off his clothes until he was down to his boxers, then slipped under the covers with his phone in hand. He hadn't heard from Amber since she had left to look for something to wear for Jack. They hadn't discussed when she would see him, but he hoped the three of them would be able to get together soon so he could see his wife have fun firsthand.

“Hey, baby, I’m finally back at my room,” he texted her as he snuggled up under the comforter.

“Hey, honey, I missed you!” she replied in her usual perky way.

“Sorry I was gone so long. I had to mingle a bit before I could take off.”

“That’s okay,” Amber replied. “I’ve been texting someone else to keep me entertained while I waited for you.”

There was something mischievous in the way she had said that, and Mark was sure she wanted him to pry.

“Oh, yeah? Who are you talking to?” he asked.

“Jack,” she replied.

Mark felt his stomach tighten again, but his cock stirred as well. It was the weirdest feeling to be both jealous of another man but completely turned on by that man flirting with his wife. He didn't know what to do with himself, but there was one thought that seemed to override them all: he wanted Amber to be naughty for him again.

“Really? What have you been talking about?”

“I’ll tell you in a minute, but first I want you to do me a favor. Stroke yourself for me while I tell you, okay?”

“I already am!” Mark replied, then returned his hand to his growing erection under the sheets.

“Oh yeah? What are you thinking about?” she asked.

“The last time you fucked him.”

“That's kind of funny,” Amber said in response. “We’ve been talking about the same thing. We’ve been flirting a lot, too.”

“What did he say?” Mark asked, wondering about his wife’s illicit conversations.

“How good it was. He asked me if I enjoyed it, too.”

“Did you?” he pressed.

“Of course, she replied. “He was amazing.”

“Have you thought about it since then?” he asked, firing back the same question she had asked him earlier.

“All the time. Just like you.”

Mark blushed as he realized how perfect this situation was. His wife was both loving and loyal, but she was also just as willing to have a little fun outside their marriage and share it with him. A relationship like that required a special connection, and he was happy that they could share it.

“What else did you talk about?” Mark continued.

“He told me he really wants to fuck me again.”

Mark choked on his own saliva. Amber was being both blunt and forward. It was as if she wanted to intentionally push his buttons and get him riled up.

“Do you want him to fuck you again?” he asked once he had recovered.

“Do I want to fuck Jack? Yes, but only if you want me to do it, too. Do you?”

“I think so,” he replied hesitantly, still unsure of how he felt about all of this.

“Well, I won't do it unless you say yes.”

“Okay,” he said, still holding back. “Have you sent him any pictures?”

“No, we’ve only been chatting on and off because Linda was hanging around him. She just went to bed, though. Should I send him one?”

“Well, it would be a great way to tease him,” Mark replied. “Do you have something sexy you can wear?”

“I think so. Hold on.”

Amber disappeared for several minutes. When Mark’s phone buzzed again, there was a picture waiting for him. It showed her perfect body, mostly naked except for a sexy bra and panty set. The fabric was a pink polka dot pattern against an off-white background. Small pink frills hung off the hip straps of her panties and the edges of the cups. It was exactly what he had wanted to see, a little sexy without being slutty. He had never seen his wife look sexier than in that picture.

“How about this one?” she asked him.

“That is amazing,” Mark answered her. “Is that new?”

“Yeah, I just bought it today while I was out.”

Mark suddenly remembered how their conversation earlier had ended, with Amber setting off in search of some lingerie to wear for Jack. She hadn't said anything afterward, so he had assumed that her search was a bust. Now he was rethinking that conclusion.

“Wait, who did you buy that for?” he asked, even though he was sure he knew the answer.

“Well, not for you,” she came back briskly.

“Did you buy that for Jack?”

“I don't know,” she said hesitantly. “I just know I didn't buy it for you.”

There was a harshness to her words, a relentless teasing. She knew she was torturing him a little, but not enough to make him upset.

“Fuck, Amber, you are killing me,” he said.

“I hope not. I want you hard, not dead!” she joked. “Do you want me to send that picture to Jack?”

“Well, you did buy the lingerie for him. You might as well show it to him.”

“Okay!” Amber answered excitedly. “I sent it. Are you still playing with yourself?”

“Yeah.”

“Don't cum yet,” she commanded. “Maybe you can jerk off four times again tonight! Or was that just because I fucked him?”

“Jesus, Amber. Don't tease me like that.”

“Like what?” she answered innocently. “Making you think about me sucking Jack’s cock? Or about how hard I came on his dick that night?”

“You know how crazy you're making me, right?”

“While he was fucking me, I kept thinking of hot it was that he was cheating on Linda with me. I also thought about you, all alone in your hotel room, jerking off, hoping he was fucking the shit out of me and having no idea that at that exact moment, he was inside me. Did you picture me riding his big, hard cock? Did you cum when you imagined him unloaded inside me?”

“Every time,” Mark confessed.

“Does it turn you on that he wasn't wearing a condom? He came so deep inside me, I could feel it.”

“I’m sure he came a lot deeper than I do. He's a lot bigger than me.”

“Yes, but not just longer,” Amber continued mercilessly. “Thicker and harder too.”

“Fuck, baby, I need to cum! Please?” Mark begged.

“Not yet. I want you to wait an hour,” she replied cryptically.

“An hour!? Why so long?”

“Because Jack just messaged me and said he loved my picture. Linda is passed out on her sleep meds, and he asked if he could come over and see me, so I said yes. I want you to wait an hour so you’ll know he's fucking your wife while you're jerking off all alone. When you are done, you can jerk that thing all night, because I’m going to keep fucking him for as long as I can until he has to leave.”

The knot in Mark’s stomach tightened, and for a moment he couldn't breathe.

“You're going to let him fuck you all night in our bed? Amber, we didn't talk about this,” he fretted.

“I know,” she replied, “but you know you want me to, you're just too afraid to say it. Tell me. Tell me that you want another man to fuck your wife all night long in our bed. Say it.”

Mark thought long and hard about it, but she was right. He wanted her to do it, but there was one thing he wanted even more. He wanted to see it.

“I want you to fuck Jack in our bed, baby,” he confessed. “I want you to make him cum as many times as you can. There's just one thing I want in return, though. Will you take some pictures at some point? I want to see you with him. I want to see him inside you.”

“You're such a dirty man, baby. I fucking love it! I will see what I can do.”

“Now what happens?” Mark asked, struggling not to touch himself.

“Now I put down the phone and go shower and shave. I want to be nice and clean for Jack. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Good night, my love!”

Mark put his phone down and closed his eyes. An hour from now, he would finish himself off in just a few minutes thinking about the two of them together. For now, all he could do was wait.

For more of this story, check out Away on Business by Alex Skylar, only on Amazon.com!

[hollyhomburg]

“If You fall I’m Going Down With You” (Yoongi x reader) (wedding au)

Summary: When Yoongi asked you to marry him you thought it would be all simple- just you and the boys and a park. But then everybody starts talking about video crews and chateaus and televising the event- and your idol fiancee doesn't seem to have a problem with it so you just go with it. Now it’s the day of your wedding and you are so not ok with this.

words: 1,605

tags: fluff, implied/referenced smut, Slight angst

You stood in the gravel driveway twirling your engagement ring around your finger. The chateau in front of you is wide and inviting with yellow brick walls and arches. You are wearing a gorgeous ball gown, a long satin slip covered with a sheer slip peppered with white satin butterflies, pink flowers, and mint vines. Your wedding veil is longer than your dress and scrapes back across the pebbles as you pace and pace.

           This is never what you wanted for your wedding when Yoongi proposed to you- you thought that was going to be it, you had already committed the rest of your life to him, so what more could a wedding really be? You thought that it would end up being a quiet ceremony with the boys and a small section of your very large family- in a public park next to your shared apartment. You were going to all go out to your favorite restaurant afterward.

Yoongi was going to wear something garish and entirely him- and you thought about making your own dress to compensate for your style. Yoongi had agreed; knowing that you would never find one that fit your personality best. You had even gone as far as drawing up a design and picking out fabrics before everything changed.

At first, it was just a photographer, just so that they could make sure that the company had good enough pictures to appease the fans. Then they had started arguing about the venue saying that the park wasn’t picturesque enough- that it was too simple.

You and Yoongi were simple- you were built on the simple things. You loved curling up next to him after a long day of work, filling up his cup of coffee in the morning. You loved sitting on the couch with him on rainy days. You loved the way he gave you your space when you had a project to work on- space that you reciprocated when he had a new song. It was why you worked.

The two of you where the color white, simple clean edges, no lies, no holding back. You were yourself around him and he was himself around you.

You hadn’t lied when you had told him you were ok with a film crew- you hadn’t lied when you agreed to let them lengthen the guest list to include a large part of the Korean pop music industry, though Yoongi complained enough and got the rest of your family invited too.

You hadn’t complained because they agreed to foot the bill for the new venue- the Italian style chateau, and the reception at a vineyard, they bought the new dress and Yoongi’s Prada tux (it wasn’t really even his style- just plain and dark blue with a white undershirt). It was going to be a TV wedding, the last hurrah and the final Farwell to millions of fans from their Yoongi. It was going to be a TV wedding and that changed everything for you.

Yoongi had spent his teenage years and his entire adulthood in the spotlight. from the time he had joined Bighit, he had his vacations- his meals- his every moment televised and photographed and enjoyed by millions of his fans. You understood why they loved him. you understood that while most of the time he behaved uncouthly and sullen- that he didn’t mind it all that much- Loved it even.

But you had never been in the spotlight like he had. Sure, throughout your courtship and then the few years of dating that had followed there had been your share of photos. first, you were a mystery girl spotted getting coffee with Yoongi at a cafe. Then you where his maybe girlfriend y/n.

 Of course, you had gotten hate mail- and it had almost been too much. But Yoongi had been worth it. He asked his fans to respect you- and told them that you were here to stay. After that, you had gone on v-live with him- and they had fallen in love with you and him calling you two “goals” (whatever that meant). But it didn’t matter- to you, Yoongi was just the person who made you breathe easier.

But you didn’t have anyone to coach you through this- and that’s why you were currently freaking out, your bouquet carefully placed on the sidewalk- twiddling the beautiful ring Yoongi had gotten you. 

You were terrified. You didn’t want to do it- not if it was like this, not when you could mess up in front of so many people.

“Y/n” Yoongi calls from behind you, his feet skidding on the pebbles. Looking startled and worried. “What’s wrong? Are…” he swallows. “Are you going to come inside?” it was the kindest way he could think of asking you if you were having second thoughts.

You made him kind, made him think before he spoke.

It had been an hour already and people were starting to mutter. Namjoon- his best man, had finally looked at Yoongi and given him a wordless jerk of his head to go find out where you were. and he had found you here, after running into your bridesmaids, who had directed him to this courtyard after they told him that you needed time to think. Your usual smile was torn from your face by stress and worry. In that moment Yoongi knew that if you decided to call off the ceremony- he would find a way to live this it- nothing was worth the stress on your face right now. 

 At the sight of him, you burst into tears. He pulled you onto his chest and wrapped his arms around you. “I’m so scared Yoongi” you breathed in an uneven breath against him. “What if I trip over these heels or over my dress or forget my vows or- or…” Yoongi pulled away laughing at you quietly- giving you a gummy smile. You slapped his shoulder “why are you laughing at me?”

Yoongi tried his best to look bashful “I’m just- I’m relieved, I thought you were going to tell me you didn’t want to go through with the wedding!”

“What? no! Of course I still want to marry you!” you shouted at him, “I’m not- I’m just not made for this or use to it like you are- I’m not an idol- I’m just me” he pulled you closer- his fingers brushed over the shear side of your dress and he wiped away your tears from you cheeks, making sure not to smudge your carefully done makeup

“And that’s why I love you y/n” he paused, catching one of your hands in his “Why didn’t you tell me you were afraid” you kicked a pebble.  Breaking away from him to rest your head in your hands.

“Because it seemed like this is what you wanted and you’re just so used to all the paparazzi and I’m not- I don’t even like it when you watch me put on my makeup in the morning” you where pacing back and forth in front of him

“Y/n listen to me“ you stopped and looked up at him. “What happens in that room is not going to change anything for us- so what if you stumble or make a fool of yourself on live TV”

“Jeeze thanks Yongs-“ you start to say sarcastically.

“I’m serious y/n” he interrupts, stepping closer to you and taking one of your hands in his. He pressed a feather light kiss to one of your fingertips, “I still love you even if you're scared shitless” he kissed another one, “I’ll love you even if you trip” he kissed your ring finger, “even if you knock teeth with me during our kiss and forget your vows” he kissed your pinky, “lets just get this over with so we can start on the rest of our lives” he pressed his forehead against yours. “None of this matters- I already know that you love me and if you don’t think that I love every inch of you I can repeat what I did to you last night again and-“

“-Yoongi” you smiled at him a giggle and a gasp escaping your mouth as he pressed a kiss to your neck. Thinking about last night- how he had kissed practically every inch of you and made love to you on the balcony of his apartment. How you had watched the stars as you shattered underneath him- all after his bachelor party of course. It made you hungry for this all to be over so that you could start on your honeymoon.

A honeymoon that was paid in full as a thank you from bighit- who were probably going to make ten times the cost off of this entire endeavor.

“I’m serious- if you want me to prove that I love you we can leave right now and screw everyone in that stupid castle.”

You swallowed once, “if I walk in with you I think I can do it.” He smiled at you, kissed you once and then spun you around, your laugh bounced off the courtyard walls. He hopped onto the steps snatched your bouquet from the ground and took your hand, helping you up the steps. He offered you his arm- to steady you in your too high- high heels.

“If I made sure to stumble would it make you feel better?”

“Probably” you laughed. “If you fall I’m going down with you”

He laughed too and smiled at you, “It's a deal then. Shall we?” he asked, and you took his arm. You inhaled a shaky breath 

“Let's do it.”