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theteasetwrites · 3 years ago

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Thy Saints Surrounded

Chapter 3: Murphy's Law

❧ Pairing: Murphy MacManus x Reader ❧ Pronouns: she/her ❧ Warnings: swearing, references to mafia, offensive language (relating to Irish & Italian ethnicity) ❧ Word Count: 4.6k

❧ In This Chapter: Murphy takes you out, and Tony pays an unwelcome visit.

❧ A/N: Time to learn a tad bit about Murphy and the MacManus boys. Since there really isn't much to their background, I did have to make a bit up so yeah... honestly, don't care though. These boys are mine to do with what I want mwahaha! Also, the plot thickens with the Tony arc, and that's how the boys get the attention of the mafia (well, shit). Oh, and Murphy stands up for you like the sweet little angry muffin that he is.

Connor came into the apartment with a bag of booze in his hands, and thank God the sight before him didn’t make him almost drop the thing on the concrete floor.

“What the fuck are ya doin’?” he asked his brother, who was tearing through the entire apartment looking for something decent to wear to his… dinner with you.

The place was a mess already, but any semblance of organization in the one-room apartment was completely thrown out the window after he landed a date with you.

Murphy was leaning over a giant pile of clothing, both belonging to himself and his brother. He looked up, and he must’ve really looked a sight. He was wearing only his boxers and a pair of boots, and his face was contorted in anxiety and panic.

“What does it look like I’m doin’?” he replied. “I’m goin’ crazy. I fucked up, man. I fucked up.”

Connor turned serious and quickly set down his grocery bag on the cluttered dining table. He walked over to Murphy and grabbed him by the shoulders, looking him directly in the eye. “Hey, what happened?” he asked.

Murphy gulped, then brought his hand up to his forehead and rubbed it furiously. “Shit, Connor, I asked her out.”

Connor’s eyes widened. “What?”

“I—I fuckin’ panicked. We were talkin’... she was about to leave and I just kinda… asked her out. Tonight.”

Connor shook his head in disbelief. “And you’re upset about that?”

Murphy nodded, then turned around and proceeded to rummage through the pile of wrinkly clothes he shared with his brother.

“Murph,” Connor said, “this is a good thing. You asked her out, and she said yes. What’s the matter with ya? I thought you loved this girl.”

“I do,” Murphy said, standing up and beginning to put on a pair of jeans. “I mean, I might. I don’t know. I told her we’d go out as friends. I’m worried she’s gonna think I just wanna be friends.”

Connor threw his head back. “Jesus Christ. It doesn’t fuckin’ matter! Go out with the girl, tell ‘er how ya feel. It’s not that hard.”

Murphy ran his fingers through his short, dark hair. “I don’t wanna fuck this up, Con. I’m not like you. I’m no good at talking to girls.”

“They’re just people, Murph. Talk to her like you talk to me.”

Knowing how Murphy talked to his brother, he did not take Connor’s advice. Instead, he just said whatever came naturally. Soon, it came time to head out and meet you at Giuseppe's.

To the surprise of both of you, the restaurant was closed, and so the two of you picked up Chinese takeout and had a picnic of sorts on a bench in Franklin Park, just after the sun went down. Luckily, it was well-lit, and you felt quite safe around Murphy.

“Sorry about Giuseppe’s,” you said after chewing some chow mein. “Kinda the same thing, though… chow mein. It’s noodles, which is kinda like pasta, right?”

Murphy laughed. “Yeah, I guess.”

There was an awkward silence between the two of you for a while. You weren’t entirely sure what to say to him, since you didn’t know him well at all. You weren’t even entirely sure why you decided to hang out with him in the first place. You supposed you thought it would be good to make a new friend, but you were still confused by the idea that he wanted to spend time with you.

“So,” you began, “what part of Ireland are you from?”

He finished chewing his bite of a dumpling. “Limerick,” he said. “Lived there up until about a year or so ago.”

You nodded. “Why’d you come to the States?”

He shrugged. “What do you call it? A quarter-life crisis? Me and Connor… we got bored. Ireland’s real small, you know. Not much going on.”

“Do you like it here?”

“It’s all right,” he said. “Beats working on a sheep farm.”

Your eyes widened. “You worked on a sheep farm? In Ireland?”

He was dumbfounded by your enthusiasm. “Uh, yeah.” If he knew it was this easy to impress you, he would’ve opened with that. “Sheared ‘em for wool. Our ma knits these fancy sweaters.”

“Wow, that’s so cool. I love sheep, and sweaters… it sounded like you were living the dream.”

He scoffed. “Well, I guess.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette, then looked up at you and panicked when he remembered that a lot of Americans didn’t smoke. “Um, it all right if I have a smoke?”

You nodded. “It’s fine.”

In truth, you were trying not to lunge at him and take out one of those vile cancer sticks for yourself. You’d successfully beaten the habit from your freshman year of college, but the temptation still lingered.

He lit the cigarette, and soon your senses were flooded with every possible aspect of the act—the smell, the taste, the warmth of the fire by your face.

“You want one?” he asked.

Your eyes widened, and you quickly began shaking your head, despite your inner desire to take a long puff. “No, thanks. I just quit.”

Murphy nodded, a little surprised that a girl like you smoked. “Aye, I’ve got to quit myself. Been doing it so long, though… since I was twelve.”

You looked at him stunned. “Twelve? Jesus, Murphy, how are you still breathing?”

He laughed. “Irish, I tell ya. We’re just built different.”

You snorted. “Well, Irish or not, be careful with those things. I went through a smoking phase. All the radio DJ’s were doing it back in college, and I was trying to get in with them. It got so bad I couldn’t go an hour without a cigarette break. The stress from school didn’t help, either”

He nodded. “Yeah, ain’t that bad myself. Maybe… five or six a day.”

“That’s bad, Murphy.”

He threw his hands up in defense. “Didn’t say it wasn’t bad, just not that bad.”

You laughed. “Okay, okay.”

The night fell quickly, and soon there was nothing left in any of the Chinese takeaway boxes.

It was a chilly autumn night, but you were both clad in knit sweaters and coats, so it wasn’t too bad. Plus, Murphy seemed to radiate heat.

As you walked together through the streets of South Boston, back towards your apartment, you felt safe once again. So safe, in fact, that you didn’t mind Murphy seeing where you lived. Perhaps that was a bad idea, but you instinctually trusted him.

“That was nice,” you said to him as he walked you up the steps to your apartment. “Thanks for… hanging out with me.”

Murphy nodded shyly. “Don’t mention it. I, um… like talking to you, and stuff.”

You smiled. “I like talking to you, too. A lot of guys are kind of hard to talk to, I think... it’s easy talking to you, though.”

It was a nice night. You liked Murphy, he was the first guy you’d met in a long time who didn’t either have no idea how to communicate or wasn’t just trying to get in your pants. You thought he could really turn out to be a friend. You even exchanged numbers, which was nice since you didn’t have many people from Boston in your phone book.

The next day, like clockwork, the MacManus brothers walked into the coffee shop at their usual time.

“Hey, guys,” you said to them. “The usual?”

“Aye, lass,” replied Murphy. You watched as the two young men took off their sunglasses at the same time.

It must be a twin thing, you thought.

Things were going relatively smoothly, until another familiar face came through the door about five minutes later.

You were turned away and pouring the next customer’s drink, until you turned around towards the counter and saw Tony giving you that obnoxious smile.

“Hey, gorgeous,” he said.

You gave him a fake smile before handing the customer their coffee. “Hi, Tony.”

Murphy watched the interaction from his table with Connor. He leaned in with narrowed eyes, not taking his sights off the man.

“Why’s he talking to her?” he asked.

He didn’t know why he asked Connor. It wasn’t like he would know. However, Connor was better at reading people, especially men when they were flirting with a woman.

Connor turned his head as he sipped his latte. He shrugged. “Looks like you got some competition, my dear brother.”

Murphy let out a subdued growl. He had his sights on you for so long that he grew protective of you, even though you hadn’t really been aware of his existence for that long.

“You think they’re together?” he asked Connor.

“Nah,” he said. “She’s giving him the cold shoulder. He’s definitely flirting, though.”

Damn how good Connor was at reading situations. He was totally right.

“Hey, listen,” Tony said, leaning on the counter and getting a little too close to you for your (and Murphy’s) liking, “my uncle’s got this banquet thing… I don’t know, it’s with his colleagues or whatever. I was wondering if you wanted to go? As my date?”

Your eyes widened. “Um… date?”

He nodded, and laughed a little. “Well, yeah. Why’d ya think I’ve been drivin’ ya around the past two months? Wasn’t just tryin’ to make small talk.”

Connor turned to his brother with a serious look. “That man’s a Yakavetta.”

Murphy furrowed his brow and gave his brother a light punch on the shoulder. “No, he’s not. (Y/N) wouldn’t have anything to do with that bullshit.”

Connor shook his head. “I’m tellin’ ya, he’s got that tattoo on his wrist.”

Murphy narrowed his eyes and focused on the man’s wrist as he flung it around and spoke to you with enthusiasm.

He couldn’t make out anything he was saying from the distance he was at, but he did see the tattoo. The stylized family crest, clear as day. Neither of the brothers had anything whatsoever to do with any organized crime in Boston, but they had a friend who was involved with the Italian mafia, Rocko was his name, and he had informed them about the tell-tale sign of the Yakavetta clan.

“Shit,” Murphy muttered under his breath.

“So, what d’ya say? It’s kinda formal but I can get ya something to wear. Doll ya up a bit.”

You were still dumbfounded. How could he ask you to attend a mafia family function? You didn’t know much about the mafia, only what you’d seen in movies like The Godfather and Goodfellas, but you knew you preferred just watching it on the big screen than having to actually live it.

“Um… I—I don’t know. I don’t think I can make it.”

Murphy stood up and came forward, with Connor following him. He was eager to hear the conversation as you looked visibly uncomfortable around the guy.

“Ah, come on,” he replied, with the MacManus brothers now within earshot. “We don’t have to stay long. We can go back to my place after, hang out. Or yours. ‘Sides, you kinda owe me.”

You furrowed your brow. “Excuse me?”

He laughed, trying to play off the incredibly toxic thing he just said. If his way of flirting was being offensive and rude, it wasn’t working. “I mean, I help you at the station, drive you back and forth, starting to think you’re taking advantage of my kindness, sweetheart.”

“I don’t think I want to talk about this here,” you said quietly, lowering your eyes and looking at him sternly. “I think you better leave, or order something to-go, and then leave.”

Suddenly, there were two men in your immediate field of vision: Tony and Murphy. Connor had tried to pull him away, but he brushed off the efforts of his more level-headed brother.

He tapped on Tony’s shoulder, which surprised even Tony when he turned around.

“Hey,” Tony said, “do I know you?”

Murphy shrugged. “No,” he replied, not really sure how he was going to get out of this one. “I know (Y/N), though, and she said she wants you to leave.”

You swallowed hard. You hoped Murphy and Connor wouldn’t get involved. You knew they could be troublemakers. At least, from the time Murphy casually mentioned getting a bar fight at McGinty’s after you inquired about his black eye.

Tony turned his body completely to face Murphy. He laughed in his face. “Why don’t you back off, man? This doesn’t have anything to do with you.”

Murphy narrowed his eyes at that. “It does, actually,” he said, “‘cause (Y/N)’s my friend, and you’re not being very friendly by bothering her like this. Especially when she’s working.”

You cleared your throat. “Murphy, it’s fine. I can handle this.”

“Murphy, huh?” Tony asked. “I’ll remember you… you dumb mick.”

Your eyes widened at the insult, and Murphy lost it at that. “What did you call me?” he asked, puffing his chest up and knitting his brows in anger.

Tony stepped closer to Murphy till they were almost nose to nose. “A dumb mick, ‘cause that’s exactly what you are. Why don’t ya go eat some potatoes or somethin’. You’re stinkin’ up the place.”

The air was tense between the two men, who continued to stare each other down. You weren’t entirely sure what to do when it almost seemed like Murphy was going to hit Tony, but luckily Connor stepped between the two of them.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” he said with his hands up and an awkward smile upon his face. “Look, my brother just doesn’t want you givin’ the lass a hard time. She’s overworked as it is.”

You nearly scoffed at that. Tony could take one look around at the practically empty coffee shop and see that you were, in fact, not busy.

Just then, Shannon came out from the kitchen. Perfect timing, you thought sarcastically. Connor was already diffusing the situation.

Tony scoffed. “Your brother needs to mind his own business.”

Murphy nearly lunged at him from behind his brother, who was holding his arm in front of him. “It is my business. Told ya, she’s my friend, and you’re bothering her. She clearly doesn’t want anything to do with ya, so why don’t ya get the fuck outta here.”

“Hey,” Shannon said, “what the hell’s going on out here?”

Connor turned and grabbed Murphy by the shoulders to begin pulling him away. “Nothin’,” he replied to Shannon with a smile. “We were just leaving. All of us.” He looked at Tony seriously. “Too much testosterone in here.”

Shannon folded her arms and laughed. “You’re telling me.”

“Bye, Tony,” you said sternly.

He scoffed, then slowly turned around with a scowl directed at the two brothers. Connor had his arm wrapped around Murphy’s shoulders as he gave the man an obnoxious smile, and Murphy just glared right back, breathing heavily.

The boys were going to leave, too, but not before seeing the potentially dangerous man out of the building.

They watched him leave, and soon the tension in the room died down, and the few customers turned back to their newspapers and coffees when they knew there wasn’t going to be a fight. At least, not in the little café.

You blew out a relieved huff. “Um, thanks. I guess… I could’ve handled that, though.”

Murphy shook his head. “You’re kidding, right? That guy’s a Yakavetta. He coulda pulled a gun on ya or somethin’.”

“Or put a hit on ya. He’s definitely got a hit on us, now.” Connor glared at his brother.

“He’s harmless,” you said. “He just talks a lot. You didn’t have to make a big scene.”

The truth was, you were terribly embarrassed by the ordeal. Though there were only a few other people in the room, just being witness to two men arguing over you was putting way too much attention on you.

Shannon nudged you, trying to indicate that you should shut up before you made Murphy lose interest in you. To her, it was sweet that he was sticking up for you, but you didn’t even think Murphy would give you the time of day, so it seemed more like he was just performing a misguided deed of friendship.

“Bullshit,” Murphy responded. “Those guys are bad news. He coulda—”

Connor stopped him before he went on and on about what the man could’ve done. “We’ll just be going now, lass. Thanks again for the coffee.”

He had to nearly drag his brother out of the shop.

“What the fuck?” he asked Connor on the sidewalk. “I was talkin’ to her.”

“Yeah, and you were freaking her out, Murph. You gotta control yourself, for Christ’s sake.”

Murphy’s eyes widened in disbelief. “What, so you think I shoulda just let the guy harass her? He was makin’ her all uncomfortable and shit!”

Connor shook his head. “No, but… ya coulda handled it smoother, ya know? Don’t go in all fully loaded.”

Murphy knew Connor was probably right. After all, he was better at picking up women, and it was probably due in part to his superior emotional control. Murphy was the more volatile one, and the one who let his feelings get the better of him.

Murphy sighed and rubbed the back of his head as he looked down at the sidewalk. “I suppose you’re right… just… that guy’s a real tool.”

“What a tool,” Shannon said, wiping down the counter after the little ordeal just minutes ago.

“Which one?” you asked.

Shannon scoffed. “Tony, obviously.”

You shook your head, not wanting to even think about him. “God, I can’t believe he found out where I worked. I was trying to be very vague.”

“Well, like I said, mafia ties. They probably know your cat’s family tree. It was only a matter of time before he found out.”

“God,” you sighed, “I wish he’d just leave me alone.”

Shannon tilted her head. “At least you have Murphy to protect you.”

You looked at her with a frown. “Don’t start.”

“Oh, come on, he was so jealous. You should be flattered.”

Though you had to admit that you were grateful Murphy stepped in, you thought he could’ve been a little better at not making a scene. In any case, it was nice to know he cared about you.

“Well, I’m not flattered. I’m terrified that I’m gonna end up sleeping with the fishes,” you said. “You know, he invited me to a mafia thing. With the Yakavetta’s.”

Shannon looked at you seriously. “You’re not going, right?”

“Of course not, that’s what started the whole thing. Tony wouldn’t leave me alone when I said no.” When you thought about it, maybe he wasn’t as harmless as you thought. You had assured Murphy you could handle it, but you had no idea what you were going to do if Tony kept bothering you.

That evening, you were relieved to finally be snuggled up in your bed, reading the latest from Spin. You picked it up at the newsstand mostly because it had Shirley Manson from Garbage on it, and you worshiped her like a goddess of contemporary alternative music. You immediately flipped to the page with her interview, and you were just starting to read it when your phone rang.

You got up and looked at your digital clock on your bedside table. 9:36 PM. You never got calls at this time. It couldn’t be your parents, who were surely asleep back in Pacific Standard Time.

Walking over to your desk, you picked up the transparent phone you had in your room since the eighties.

“Hello?”

“Hi, (Y/N)?” asked a familiar Irish voice.

You immediately processed that it was Murphy. “Hi, um… how are you?”

You always hated phone conversations.

“Fine,” he said, sounding a little dejected. “I just, uh, wanted to apologize… about earlier. I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

You closed your eyes and rubbed your forehead in exhaustion. You weren’t mad at Murphy, just a little annoyed. The entire situation annoyed you. You hated having to be stood up for. Any kind of attention like that stressed you out, really. It was half the reason you liked doing radio—you felt like you could be yourself without anyone seeing you or being aware of your existence. It was the only kind of attention you liked.

“You don’t have to apologize,” you said. “I appreciate it, but you were being a good friend.”

Murphy nodded on the other end. “So, uh… that guy, how do you know him? I mean, if you don’t mind me asking.”

You huffed. “Well, he’s the DJ at the station who does the show before mine. He drives me there and back, unfortunately.”

Murphy felt a wave of relief wash over him. It was like being baptized all over again. Tony wasn’t your boyfriend, and you weren’t interested in him. Even if nothing ever happened between you and him, he’d at least know you weren’t with a guy like that.

“Good,” he said, accidentally. “I—I mean… it’s good that you’re not that close. I’ve known a lot of blokes like that. They’re not very nice fellas.”

You smiled, admiring the sound of his voice and the little interjections of terms that Americans didn’t usually say. “Yeah, well, I’m trying to get this guy to leave me alone. It’s gotten so bad I’m starting to look at cars so I won’t have to rely on him for transportation, and I’m about ready to contact the station about changing my show time.”

Murphy nodded. “Sorry ya have to do that, lass. Prick should just leave ya alone.”

You threw yourself back onto your bed, thankful for the incredibly long cord that allowed you to walk around freely while talking on the phone. “That’s just the life of a woman,” you said. “Deal with perverted creeps, never find a nice guy who isn’t just being nice because he wants something from you, die a virgin because your standards are apparently way too high…”

Oops, you thought. Didn’t mean to say that last part.

You cleared your throat. “Um, I mean, I’m not a virg—” You closed your eyes and covered your mouth with your free hand. “Shit. I am a virgin. N-not that it matters. And not that you asked, or care. Oh my god, what am I saying?”

Murphy laughed. “Maybe you should become a nun. Then ya have to be celibate. Married to Christ or whatever.”

You smiled, thankful that he was at least trying to joke around with you and not immediately hanging up on you for your strange admission. You were so used to talking to other girls who openly talked about sex (or lack thereof) that you didn’t think twice about mentioning it.

“Trust me, I’ve thought about it. I don’t think I could wear the outfit, though. It seems like it gets hot in there.”

Murphy hummed in agreement. “You’re much too nice to be a nun, anyway. I remember back in school, Connor and me, we were always getting into trouble with the nuns. They beat our little asses with big splintered rulers.”

Your eyes widened. “Oh my god, seriously?”

He nodded. “Yep, nearly everyday. They’re mean, all repressed and shit. Could never look ‘em in the eye.”

You turned sad. “God, I’m sorry. That’s terrible.”

“It’s all right. We came out on top in the end.”

You raised an eyebrow. “How so?”

“Last day of primary school, we put super glue all over Sister Marion’s seat. No one could get her off it, had to cut up her habit. Everyone saw her knickers.”

You shook your head with a smirk. “That’s awful. She deserved it, right?”

“Oh, yeah. She hit us the worst, even when we just said our prayers wrong. She deserved it.”

You didn’t even realize it until you looked at the clock after hanging up with Murphy, but the two of you had been talking for almost two hours. You ended up in a heated debate about Irish versus American slang, and you were forced against your will to demonstrate your best Irish accent (to which Murphy let out a boisterous laugh, and you heard Connor giggling nearby, too).

The very next day, Connor and Murphy headed out to start their day with their usual stop at Killarney’s.

When a shiny black Maserati with tinted windows pulled up next to them as they walked, they tipped their sunglasses to see Tony and a rather burly looking man in the front seat, rolling down the windows.

“Hey, assholes,” Tony said before parking the car on the curb and quickly stepping out of the sports car to saunter over to the brothers. “Where you boys headin’?”

They both took off their glasses and stamped out their cigarettes, nearly at the same time. “None of your business, goombah,” replied Murphy.

On all other occasions, Murphy did not believe in using ethnic epithets, but Murphy also believed in revenge, so he simply thought of it as getting him back for the “mick” comment.

Tony immediately pressed his chest up against Murphy’s in an attempt at asserting dominance, Murphy supposed, though he wasn’t scared of the man at all. There was very little Murphy was afraid of when it came to violence.

Connor tried to come between them, but he was quickly intercepted by the very large man, who was at least a head taller than all three of them.

Suddenly, the two of them were pushed into the alley just behind them.

“I know everything about you,” Tony said, his face still hounding Murphy’s. “I know where you live, where you work, where you drink… shit, I even know where you eat. I’m a nice guy, so I’m gonna give a warning: you’re on my list.”

Murphy cracked a wide grin and looked at his brother, who was also grinning. “You hear that, Connor? We’re on the list.”

“Ooo,” Connor said in a mock scared tone. “I’m shaking in my boots.”

Tony shook his head with a cold frown. “Keep pushin’, assholes. I’ll be watchin’ you, and (Y/N), too. Got eyes all over Southie.”

Tony pulled his coat back to reveal a pistol in his pocket. “If you end up with a hole in your head,” he continued, “no one’s gonna do nothin’ about it. You can guarantee it.”

He nodded to the large man, who the brothers presumed to be the bodyguard. “Let’s go, Enzo.”

The two men sauntered off towards the black car, then sped away.

Murphy pointed to the spot where they were. “You see that,” he said, “that’s the kinda shit I hate.”

Connor nodded. “Yeah, bastards.” He spit at the concrete. “You think they really got us on a list?”

Murphy shrugged. “Don’t know, don’t give a shit.”

Connor shook his head and wrapped his arm around Murphy’s shoulder before walking with him out of the alley back onto the sidewalk. “Hey, brother,” he said, “remember Murphy’s law, right?”

Murphy rolled his eyes. “Aye, if anything can go wrong—”

“It fucking will,” Connor finished. “Don’t get too cocky now. Mafia knows us ‘cause of all this, ‘cause of your little lass.”

“They woulda found out about us sooner or later.”

“Aye, but we must tread lightly… wait till the time’s right, take out the fuckers.”

Murphy laughed. “Sure, Connor. We’ll kill ‘em all.”

Connor smiled as he patted Murphy’s chest. “Indeed we will.”

Thanks for reading! Likes, reblogs, and comments of any kind are always appreciated!

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#murphy macmanus fanfic #murphy macmanus #murphy macmanus x reader #thy saints surrounded series #the boondock saints fanfic #the boondock saints

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invincible-selfxmade-punk · 2 years ago

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Many many years ago I had an online friend that I met through being straight edge who lived in Ireland.

I don't know whatever happened to him but I think about him a lot to this day and I still have a pair of boxer shorts he gave me that looks like the Irish flag and I will never give them up.🧡🧡💚💚🤍🤍

Anyway even though I think about him a lot, I think about him the most during Pride.

One day online .and I think honestly it was Myspace messenger. ... he said

I need to talk to you. There's something I need to tell you and I think is going to make you mad.

The first thing I thought was: omigod you broke Edge!! ....Okay or we can deal with that.

No!! (he seemed very indignant) don't be crazy!! I would do something like that, God no! Of course I'm still straightedge. I... well I don't know how to tell you this but.... I don't think I'm a girl qnymore. I think I'm a guy. Would it be OK if you called me Nate from now on?

I honestly don't remember what his deadname was and even if I did that wouldn't say it It was something vaguely Catholic and very Irish.

Oh is that all?

Is that all?! What do you mean by that?!

Dude!! You scared me to death! I thought you're going to tell me you were dying of cancer or something!!

.....so you're not mad?!

Why would I be mad? You're my best buddy! Of course I'll call you Nate.

It was that simple. And I wish it was that simple for everybody.

Gosh I really miss my mate Nate. Wherever he is I hope he is very happy.

#pride month #story #trans #Irish #straightedge #Nate #transgender #Irish trans

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disgruntledspacedad · 4 years ago

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The Rules of Engagement (4/5)

part of the The Better Love Series

pairing: Javier Peña x fem!reader/ofc (Ears)

summary: (slow-burn, sexual tension, angst, a little bit of h/c in later chapters) He’s a DEA agent. You work for Centra Spike. Peña’s not your boss, exactly, but you’ve been fwb long enough that certain people are starting to think of you as An Item, and that just won’t do.

words: 3.7k

warnings: 18+ for alcohol, language, smut, violence, general trauma.

a/n: unbeta’d. Yeah, I know - I can’t count. This is gonna be five chapters.

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five

MASTERLIST

Murphy nearly bowls you over on his way down stairs, pulling up short when he sees you.

“Shit!”

You glance down at yourself. Your clothes are rumpled and covered in ash and bile. You don’t even want to know what your face looks like. There’s rubble in your hair.

Murphy is still staring open-mouthed.

“The pharmacy below my apartment got bombed,” you explain hollowly. “I’m fine, I just need a shower.”

“You look like you need a hospital,” Murphy counters, eyeballing you with something akin to worry. “Fucking Christ, Ears, if Javi -”

You snap your eyes up at the mention of Javi. “Have you heard anything?”

For the first time since you’ve met him, Steve Murphy cracks a grin at you. “On his way home now.” He looks as relieved as you feel. “We got him.”

You manage to smirk back. “Good.”

“Congratulations, by the way. This one’s on you as much as anybody.”

“Thanks.” You sag against the side rail, trying to be subtle about it. Now that the adrenaline has worn off, your legs are shaking, and you think it’s only a matter of time before you fall over.

Murphy notices, because he reaches for your shoulder to steady you. “I really think-”

“No.” You cut him off forcefully, glaring at him with all the energy you have left. “No, Steve. I’m tired, that’s all.”

He sighs. Narrows his eyes. Frowns. “You’re bleeding.”

What?

Murphy gesturers to your temple with a finger that you have to stop yourself from flinching away from. “You’re bleeding, Ears,” he repeats, as if he’s expending a great amount of patience by pointing it out to you.

You reach up, wincing as you notice for the first time that your head hurts. When you draw your fingers back, they are coated in blood.

Murphy moves closer to get a better look.

“It’s just a scratch, Murph,” you tell him wearily. As far as you can tell, that’s true. There’s no gaping hole or giant gash, just a stinging little cut right at your hairline. “You know how head wounds are.”

He’s still glaring suspiciously at you, and you let him, meeting his gaze in silent challenge.

Eventually he sighs. “Okay, your funeral, I guess. Gimme a minute.”

Before you can retort, he ducks back inside, leaving you standing awkwardly on the front step. The walls are thin - you can hear him rummaging around in the kitchen. He’s back seconds later, key in one hand, a slip of paper in the other.

He hands you the paper first. “This is my pager number. Javi’ll be back soon, but I want you to contact me if anything crazy happens.” He motions to your head with his thumb.

“Okay,” you promise.

“And here’s this.” He presses the key into your hand.

You look up at him wide-eyed. “Murphy, you can’t just give me Peña’s key.”

“What, you think it would be any different if I stepped across the landing and did the honors for you? I’m already late.” He runs a hand through his hair with a huff. “Besides, he’d want you to have it.”

Somehow, you seriously doubt that.

Murphy fixes you with a stare. “Trust me.”

“Hardly,” you mutter, taking the key from his hand anyway. You hold it up for emphasis. “But you’re taking the fall for this one, alright?”

Murphy rolls his eyes. “I think I can live with that. Stay safe, Ears, and page me if you need anything.”

♠

You resist the urge to flop down on Javi’s sofa and sleep for a thousand years, instead making your way to the shower. Peeling away your dusty clothes feels so incredibly good. So does the hot water. You take your time, exploring the lingering aches and pains in your body as you scrub them with Javi’s little sliver of Irish Spring. Aside from a few bruises and that one little slice on your temple that won’t quit oozing, you’re not injured anywhere. You think you might be a little sore from being thrown backward tomorrow, and your lungs still feel funny and raw from having the air knocked from them, but otherwise, the bombing of your apartment is more inconvenient than anything.

You try very, very hard not to think about Emilio.

You step out of the shower only when the water runs tepid, the cold jarring you awake. Javi only has two towels, it seems - one left out to dry on the towel rack, the other crumpled in the corner with a pair of boxers. Nice. You opt for the one that’s on the rack, wiping yourself down then wrapping up your dripping hair.

There’s something deliciously deviant about sneaking naked through Javier Peña’s apartment when he’s not home. You shake away your guilt, trying hard not to be too weirded out or too turned on as you rifle through his dresser drawers. You’ve got to wear something.

Eventually, you come away with the green t-shirt and the only pair of sweats the man owns. You eye yourself in the mirror, considering. Javi’s clothes are ridiculous on you - you have to roll the sweats three times at the waist just to keep from tripping - but hell, at least you aren’t naked. Looks like that cut finally stopped bleeding, too.

Carefully, you pull your hair into a sloppy braid and gather your dirty clothes, doing a cursory sweep of the apartment to see if Javi has anything else that needs washing. Other than the little pile in the bathroom, you find a t-shirt and a pair of mis-matched socks in the corner by the nightstand. Not bad for a single guy living alone, you decide.

You make the trip downstairs to the communal laundry room quickly, noting the time on the kitchen clock when you return. You don’t feel like waiting beside the machine today. Flopping on the sofa has lost it’s appeal - you’re bone weary, but every time you close your eyes, you see fireballs and charred bodies.

Sleep is not on the agenda.

Sighing, you make your way to the kitchen for a cup of coffee, glancing at the clock for the umpteenth time. 9:42. You put the water on, then shuffle downstairs to switch the laundry to the dryer. 40 more minutes, and then you can get out of here.

And then what?

You examine your options and find that the list is short. You aren’t going to stay here any longer than necessary - you’ve intruded on Javi’s privacy enough. Your only friend in Colombia is Ana, and that’s off the table for obvious reasons. Murphy isn’t at home, and Connie had left for the States just weeks after you’d arrived. Back to work, then.

You decide that’s best anyway. Somebody fucking bombed your apartment. Well, the mark was probably Emilio’s drug store, but still. Bombings don’t happen in Bogotá - that’s a Medellín thing. Especially a civilian target.

The rush of anger that consumes you is staggering. Who did this, and why? Bombing a business is a very Pablo Escobar thing to do, but a small pharmacy? In Bogotá?

Ana and her father are good people. You know deep in your bones that they aren’t involved in the drug trade. You also have major doubts that this was an accident. So, what the fuck?

The injustice of it all makes you feel small and cold and helpless.

You’re missing something big.

Javi doesn’t have a television in his apartment. Even if you did have access the news, the information that you’re seeking is hardly going to be broadcast on live television, and certainly not so soon.

Work really is the best option, then. Between the bombing and Verdugo’s arrest, the sicarios must be on red alert. Maybe you can pick up on some chatter.

Besides, you probably need to let Stechner know about your situation as soon as possible.

You glance at the clock. 10:07.

Ugh. You rise up on your tiptoes, bouncing in frustration. Caffeine and adrenaline have made you jittery. There’s something really cringe-worthy, too, about being alone in Javi’s apartment without his knowledge, especially given the way things ended between you.

The memory chafes, and you shake your head hard enough that it throbs.

Goddamn this day.

A shrill beeping jerks you from your thoughts, and you barely manage to stifle a shriek. Your pager! You’d forgotten all about it. Your stomach swoops as you pick it up.

The number that flits across the screen belongs to Javi.

You take a breath. Weird. Aside from that one brief conversation yesterday, you haven’t spoken to him in weeks. It probably has something to do with Verdugo, you decide. Maybe he wants to inform you personally. That would be nice of him. After all, this was a pretty big arrest for you, too.

You locate the phone in the kitchen, dialing the number with trembling fingers. Damned coffee.

“Peña.” His voice is terse, clipped.

“Got your page,” you say warily. He sounds like he’s in a mood. “Is there -”

“Where are you?” he demands, cutting you off harshly.

You blink, startled. Forget ‘a mood,’ Javi sounds fucking livid. You’d assumed he’d be pretty relaxed, considering. “Umm, I’m actually at your place,” you speak slowly to hide the shakiness of your voice. Fuck, of all the times to get emotional. “Listen, my apartment was bombed. I just needed -”

You’re interrupted again by a sharp sigh. “Stay there,” Javi grinds out, and then there’s nothing but dial tone.

Slowly, you place the phone back in its cradle, processing the conversation.

What. The. Fuck.

Bits of plastic clatter to the floor as the pager smashes into the refrigerator - you’re hardly even aware of throwing it. You sink to the kitchen floor, cradling your head in your hands and doing your damnedest to just breathe.

It’s not fucking fair. He was the one who stormed out slamming doors. You haven’t pressed him, haven’t been a nuisance. Well, aside from basically breaking into his apartment and borrowing his shower.

But fucking hell, somebody - probably Pablo Escobar - just bombed your fucking apartment. You’re living in a foreign country and you don’t even speak the fucking language. There’s nowhere for you to go, and your clothes were a mess, and goddamn, you are just tired.

What were you supposed to do?

Footsteps thunder up the stairs. God, that was quick. You manage to leap to your feet just as the front door slams open with a bang.

Javi stops dead when he sees you, and your tirade dies in your throat.

“Hey.” It’s awkward, but it’s all you can manage.

He’s just staring at you, standing stalk still in the open doorway. He’s breathing heavily, like he’s been running. His expression is tight, carefully closed off. One fist is clenched at his side, the other still gripping the doorknob.

“Murphy let me in,” you babble. You knew he was on his way, but still, his sudden appearance startled you. “My place, I mean, the drugstore -”

“I know.” He’s toneless, expressionless, frozen except for his eyes. They rove over your face and body, and you’re reminded suddenly of watching him read reports - quick, efficient, and exacting, like he’s taking in every detail in an instant.

Fuck. Heat rushes you as you remember that you’re still wearing his clothes. “Okay,” you breathe shakily, hardly aware of speaking aloud. This is getting weird, and you really don’t have the emotional capacity to deal with Javier Peña’s shit today.

Your laundry is probably dry anyway.

“Where are you going?” Javi demands, resting a hand on your shoulder as you attempt to push past him.

That does it. “To get the laundry!” you bite back, twisting away from his touch with a lot more drama than is really necessary. “My clothes are dry!”

He pulls away as if burned, a muscle twitching in his jaw.

You stand there like that for a long moment, just assessing each other. You’re glaring up at him warily, sizing him up, while he watches you with an expression that you don’t recognize.

“I’ll go,” he says softly. There’s something quiet, almost regretful in his tone, and it shatters your defenses. You bit your lip and nod shakily, and then he’s gone, descending down the stairs without another word.

Jesus.

You exhale another shaking breath - everything you do seems shaky, today - and pour another cup of coffee.

♠

You feel like you’ve got a little more control of yourself once you’re back in your own clothes. Javi is lighting a cigarette at the kitchen table when you exit the bathroom, a fresh butt still hot in the ashtray next to him.

“Rough night?” you ask, dropping his half-folded t-shirt and sweats onto the counter.

He huffs sarcastically.

You sigh. Your patience is wearing very, very thin, but you decide to try one more time, just for the hell of it. “Congratulations, by the way. Murphy told me about Verdugo.”

He blinks up at you, like you’ve pulled him from deep thought. “Yeah,” he says slowly, still staring at you with an intensity that’s starting to really freak you out. He pulls hard at the cigarette, and the moment breaks. “We couldn’t have done it without you.”

You nod, suddenly tired.

He notices. “Ears?”

“I need to go back in,” you cut him off before he can ask whatever he was going to ask.

He frowns. “Didn’t you just leave this morning?”

Frazzled as you are, it doesn’t occur to you to ask how he knows that. “Yeah, Peña, I did,” you snap. “But then some fucker bombed my apartment, and I’ve got a nasty feeling that it has something to do with Pablo Escobar. I can’t go home, and I can’t get any sleep, so I might as well make myself useful and see if there’s anything worth listening to today.”

His gaze had drifted during your speech. He’s resting his jaw on his his palm, staring off into the middle distance.

Ugh.

“So, will you drive me, Peña, or am I calling a cab?”

“Sorry,” he says softly, breaking himself out of whatever stupor he’d been in. He stands and extends a hand like he might like to reach for you before deciding against it and grabbing his gun instead. “Of course I’ll drive you, if you feel like going in.” He catches your eye as he tucks the gun into his belt, serious now. “I really am sorry about your home, Ears.”

God. All Javier Peña has to do is throw you a tiny bone, and you fucking melt. The relief you feel is palpable. “Thank you,” you whisper, closing your eyes for a long second.

You hear him rustling around with keys. “Let’s go, then.”

♠

The car ride to headquarters is silent. Javi smokes three more cigarettes, tossing the butts out the open window before you even hit the parking lot, one after the other. You wonder what the fuck is going on with him.

He makes a point to let you out of the passenger side door, a little quirk that had been hit or miss before, depending on his mood. You walk together up the embassy steps, him hanging close to your shoulder but not quite touching you, and you wonder if this is his strange way of apologizing for the weirdness before.

You’re halfway to Stechner’s office when you realize that Javi is still following you. You arch a curious brow in his direction. He pointedly ignores it.

Okay, seriously. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?” The question comes out a lot harsher than you intend, but hell, it’s been a terrible day.

He glances down at you, almost apologetic. “It can wait a minute.”

“Ears!”

Oh, fuck. Steve Murphy is running up the hallway, gaze zeroed in on you.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” He doesn’t wait for you to answer, just whirls on Javi. “Javi, what the fuck is she doing here?”

You bite the inside of your cheek in an effort to keep from screaming. “I’m trying to go do my job, Murphy, if the fucking DEA will let me.” Thankfully, your voice comes out pretty level.

Javi’s looking at Murphy with a narrowed gaze, head cocked, hands on hips. “What do you mean, Murphy?” he asks in a low voice.

Murphy throws his hands up in consternation. “I mean she should be in bed, or at a fucking hospital. You should have seen her this morning, Javi. Looked like she’d come straight from a war zone!”

Javi whips around to stare wide-eyed at you. “Wait. You didn’t say…” All of the color is draining from his face. “You were there?”

Something about the breathlessness the words, like they’d been punched out of him, sends little shocks of electricity zinging across your skin. “I’m fine,” you manage. As protests go, it’s pretty weak.

“God, Ears, you’re still bleeding.” Goddamn Steve Murphy and his fucking preoccupation with your blood. “Now get out of here, please, before I call you an ambulance. Jesus.”

Javi’s face is a storm cloud of emotions as the pieces continue to click into place. “Ears,” he growls, more horrified than angry. He grips you carefully by the shoulders, looking you over again. This time, he brings his fingers gently to your temple. They come away bloody.

He sucks a sharp breath, glancing up at Murphy. “You’ll handle Verdugo?”

Murphy’s lips are pressed into a fine line. “Absolutely, Javi. Get her out of here.”

♠

He escorts you from the building with a hand pressed firmly against the small of your back. It would be sweet, if not for the blistering pace and the stony expression that’s frozen on his face. People take notice, leaping out of your way, craning their necks to watch as you storm by. By the time you reach the doors, your cheeks are flaming.

“Agent Peña!”

Oh shit. You hadn’t even noticed Martinez and his entourage milling around the entrance.

“Yeah?” Javi bites out.

Martinez raises a brow at the scene the two of you make - you, bleeding and shamefaced, Javi damned near parading you into the parking lot with all the subtly of a thunderclap.

God, there’s no way this ends well for either of you.

“Verdugo is in interrogation room three,” Martinzes says, clearing his throat awkwardly.

Javi doesn’t even slow. “Stick Murphy on it,” he snaps over his shoulder. “I’m busy.”

Nobody dares argue with him.

♠

Instead of getting into the car, Javi leans heavily against the door.

You pause, opening your mouth to question him, but he reaches for your jaw before you can speak, carefully tilting your face up into the sunlight.

“Are you okay?”

His voice is soft, but he’s looking at you in undisguised concern, eyes roving over you with an intensity that tempts you to drop your gaze.

You shiver. You can’t help it - you’re exhausted and emotional, and things with Javi have been so weird for so long, and now he’s staring at you, sharp and worried, running his thumbs across your scalp to gently assess for injuries.

No, you are not okay.

He notices the little tremor that darts through your body and rests one hand on your shoulder, leaning in to look you straight in the eye. “How far were you from the explosion?”

“Across the street,” you tell him, breathless for all of the wrong reasons. It’s only half-way true, you’d been crossing the street when the bomb had gone off, far closer to the blast zone than you’re leading him to believe. But he’s so close, cupping your cheeks in his hands, leaning forward to shield you from the traffic-side of the parking spot with his body as he continues to draw his fingers across your skin, gently assessing for more damage.

“It just knocked me off my feet,” you continue. Your throat is suddenly so dry. “Startled me, more than anything.”

Javi reaches with one finger to expose the wound on your temple. It’s still oozing.

“And this?” he asks, pinning you with another piercing stare.

You reach up, catching his hand as his fingers begin to drift down your cheek. He twitches reflexively. “Just a little scratch,” you promise him. “Falling glass, or shrapnel, I guess. Something grazed me. I never hit my head.”

This is not a lie. You never blacked out; you’re not hurt.

He blusters a sigh, scrubbing his face with his palm for a brief second. “I should really take you to the hospital.” His jaw tightens as he speaks.

“I just said I didn’t hit my head. I’m fine.” You indicate the wound on your temple. “This is nothing. You know how head wounds like to bleed.” You look up at him, projecting as much wide-eyed, awake, vibrant woman as you possibly can after walking away from a fucking bomb, and squeeze his hand in reassurance. “Please, Peña. I just want to go -”

Home, you almost say.

You stop yourself just in time. There is no home, not anymore. And you won’t make the mistake of referencing Peña’s place as anything other than ‘Peña’s place.’ That would be supremely stupid, given all of the recent drama.

“To bed,” you manage instead. “I’m just tired.”

And god, that is the truth.

If Javi notices your faux pax, he doesn’t mention it. He’s hardly taken his eyes off you. He’s near enough that you can feel the heat of his skin, one hand still twined in yours.

It’s all you can do to avoid resting your head on his chest.

“Okay,” he mutters begrudgingly, and then shakes his head like he hadn’t meant to agree. “I’ll take you home.”

You smile wanly at him. “Thanks.”

♠

author’s notes/confessions

I know you still have questions. I promise you, I will answer them.

Steve Murphy is a good bro.

Y’all hit me up if you want a little Javi one-shot after this next chapter. I wrote it for my own reference, but it might be a fun read, if you’re wondering what’s happening inside his head right now.

@tiffdawg, look what you made me do. ;)

#Javier Peña x reader #javier peña #javier pena x reader #narcos #pedro pascal #narcos fanfiction #Javier Peña fanfiction #Javier Peña imagine #javi x you #javi x reader #reader insert #angst #hurt/comfort #slowburn #friends to lovers #the rules of engagement #better love #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal fanfiction

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sisterspooky1013 · 3 years ago

Text

Only One Choice, Chapter 7

Read it here on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

Saturday brings an unexpected heat wave, the high temperatures uncharacteristic even for D.C. Dana has grappled all week with how to explain her Saturday evening plans to Ethan. Her instinct is to lie, to tell him she’s getting dinner with Missy or has to go into work for an emergency autopsy. But lying makes it impossible to tell herself that what she’s doing isn’t wrong; if she has nothing to hide, why would she be hiding it? In the end, she goes with vague truth and tells him that she’s meeting up with a colleague to discuss some interesting new research they shared with her. Never mind that said colleague is a very handsome and apparently very single man. Never mind that she feels a rush between her legs whenever she pictures his cocky smile. Meeting with a colleague. Interesting research. Nothing more.

She and Ethan spend the morning lying around in their underwear, too overheated to do anything else. The air conditioning hums and sputters, trying to keep up, but it's no match for the sweltering heat.

“Do we have ice cream?” Ethan asks, splayed out on his back against the hardwood clad in green boxer shorts.

“Nope, I ate it all when I was PMSing last week,” she replies from the couch, arms and legs draped off the sides so that no part of her body is touching any other.

They are quiet for a bit.

“Wanna have sex?” Ethan asks offhandedly, and she feels a flush of dread.

“Too hot,” she replies with an equally offhand tone, glad he can’t see her face.

They are quiet again.

“Are you okay, Dana?” he asks hesitantly, his eyes on the ceiling. She waits a little too long to answer.

“Yeah, why?”

“You just...you don’t seem like yourself. Since we got engaged, I mean. You seem kind of distracted. Distant, maybe?”

She takes a steadying breath. She knows he’s right. If she were honest, she’d tell him that she feels crushing guilt for being so infatuated with another man. That she feels like a horrible girlfriend, fiancée, almost-wife, for continuing to seek out interactions with him, but she can’t bring herself to stop. That she loves Ethan, so much, but can’t deny the pull that Mulder has on her. That she feels like she’s cheating when they have sex, because Mulder invariably takes his place in her mind. But she can’t tell him any of that.

She rolls to her side so she can look at him.

“I’m sorry, Ethan. I guess I’m just feeling overwhelmed lately, with work and the wedding. I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

He rolls his head to the side to meet her eye.

“So you’re not having doubts? About getting married?” The pain and worry in his voice is like a kick in the gut.

“Of course not,” she implores, crawling off the couch and across the floor to where he lays. She gingerly throws a leg over his hip and straddles him, placing her hands on his sweat-damp chest and leaning forward to kiss him on the lips. “I can’t wait to be your wife,” she says with a soft smile, and the twist in her belly alerts her to the fact that this might be a lie.

They make love, there on the living room floor. She keeps her eyes open, not allowing her mind to wander from this moment, this man. Not allowing herself to admit that this is a consolation, an attempt to prove to them both that she is in this, with him, for the long haul. Her orgasm is weak and brief, not the same. Nothing is the same, anymore. Not since Mulder waltzed into the autopsy bay and complicated her life.

————————

The heat has abated only slightly by 5:30 as she’s preparing to leave her apartment and head to Mulder’s. She debates what to wear for an agonizingly long time; the temperature calls for a dress or shorts, but she fears sending the wrong message if it looks like she’s intentionally bearing skin. She finally settles on a black maxi dress, a compromise in coverage and air flow, paired with flip flops. Casual, not trying too hard, but not frumpy either.

As she makes for the door, Ethan stops her with a gentle grasp on her wrist, pulling her to him.

“You look beautiful,” he says with an affectionate gaze, and that guilty feeling in her belly is back. Their impromptu living room floor love-making seems to have assuaged his concerns over her demeanor for the time being, but it only served to deepen her own inner turmoil.

“Thank you,” she replies before kissing him on the cheek and escaping the emotional heat of their apartment for the temperate heat of the DC evening.

2630 Hegal Place is a stately brick building that has been decently maintained. It’s not as nice as her neighborhood in Georgetown, but it’s hardly the slum that Mulder suggested it was. She feels a little sick as she rides the elevator up to the fourth floor, taking in the dark wood trim against the yellowing walls of his hallway. She finds apartment forty-two and pauses outside the door for a long while. She has a feeling that walking through this door is a decision with consequences, one she shouldn’t take lightly. She realizes she’s not wearing her engagement ring; it’s likely sitting on the bathroom counter beside the sink. A simple oversight; she’s not yet used to wearing it. Certainly not a Freudian slip of the mind...she has the sudden overwhelming urge to flee. Perhaps she knows exactly what she’s doing after all. She turns to walk back to the elevator when the door swings open, startling her.

“Scully,” he says with a lopsided smile.

He’s wearing dark wash jeans, his top half bare, a bag of garbage in one hand. Her eyes immediately light on the broad expanse of his chest, smooth and dappled with a light dusting of hair. His abdomen is solid, sleek and defined. A swimmer’s body, she thinks with a sigh.

“I was just taking the trash out, you’re a little early,” he says with a hint of embarrassment, passing her to stuff the bag down the chute at the end of the hall.

“Oh, sorry, am I?” she looks at her watch; it’s 5:55.

“Or maybe I’m just running a little behind,” he replies sheepishly, then lifts his arm and gestures for her to enter the apartment, “please, come in.”

She enters a combination foyer and dining room, the kitchen tucked off to the left and the living room straight ahead. The ambiance matches the hallway, dark wood and yellow walls, the ceilings impressively high. The decor is sparse; nothing on the walls and only small trinkets littering the surfaces, a fish tank burbling near the window. She waits to see where he directs her to go. The dining room table seems like a suitably professional place for two colleagues to review work files. He brushes past her to the living room, the shower-fresh smell of him drifting into her nostrils; Irish Spring and Old Spice.

“You can take a seat,” he says gesturing to the couch, “let me just grab a shirt and the files.” He disappears through a door that must be his bedroom.

She sets her purse on his cluttered desk and sits on one end of the worn leather couch, looking around at his few furnishings. She startles when a black blur springs onto her lap with a high-pitched meow, and Mulder re-enters the room with a bankers box tucked under his arm, his torso now covered by a black T-shirt.

“Jesus, Priscilla, don’t assault the woman,” he says as he sets the box on the coffee table and plucks the cat off her lap. “Sorry about that, she has an affinity for pretty girls,” he continues, then directs his next comment to the cat. “We have that in common, eh, Prissy?”

She feels a flush to her cheeks and he takes the cat with him to the kitchen, returning with two beers in its place.

“I hope your boyfriend doesn’t mind me borrowing you for the evening,” he says as he hands her an open beer.

She looks at him with a mildly shocked expression, his mention of Ethan feeling out of place and somehow obscene. Noticing her discomfort, he changes the subject as he sits on the opposite end of the couch.

“This is all I walked away with, one box of the best, brightest, and weirdest X files I came across during my time. About half are those I investigated myself, the rest were left from the previous agents who started the division,” he slides the box down the coffee table towards her and she plucks the lid off carefully to see dozens of neatly labeled orange folders. She pulls a random one out from the middle and sets her beer on the coffee table, opening the file across her lap.

“So tell me why the X files division was shut down,” she says as she leafs through the pages.

“Well, the official reason is that an investigation into a man with green blood resulted in multiple deaths, which was just the last in a series of...mishaps. But the real reason is that I was too close to the truth.”

She lifts her head from the file to look at him. He has his bare feet propped up on the coffee table, his elbow resting on the arm of the couch. He seems so at ease all the time, so comfortable around her.

“The truth about what?” she asks, working to peel her eyes from his plush lower lip.

He takes a deep breath. “A lot of things, but namely a government conspiracy to conceal the existence of extraterrestrial life, even as they’re conducting experiments and research on said extraterrestrials. Perhaps even working with them.”

It’s that same even, factual delivery. Her mouth blossoms into a slow smile.

“Working with the aliens? To do what, open a KMart on Mars?” she teases, and he returns her smile with one that is so devilish it makes her pelvis twitch.

“Read on, Scully. The more you see, the less crazy it sounds.”

He stands and goes to the stereo, and after a few minutes of fiddling around she hears Radiohead begin to play. “You like Radiohead?” he asks, and she gives a half shrug, half nod. Doesn’t love ‘em, doesn’t hate ‘em.

“So this one appears to be about some kind of tree-dwelling insect?” she asks, reading over details of a dead man sucked dry of all fluids and bound up in a giant cocoon.

Mulder returns to the couch and sits beside her, much closer this time, their thighs nearly touching. The heat of his body on top of the warmth of the air makes new sweat prick at the back of her neck.

“Indeed, prehistoric insects that were released from the inner rings of the tree when they were logged. I nearly got eaten up by them myself,” he remarks, reaching over to turn the pages that lie across her lap. She shivers a little despite the heat.

“And what does that have to do with aliens and government conspiracies?” she asks, keeping her head down, knowing that if she looks up at him he would be close enough to kiss.

“It’s not that straight forward, Scully. There are things, many things, on our planet that are unexplainable, and having control over that which can’t be understood by science and intelligence gives you a certain degree of power. Unfortunately, it’s a power that’s most often used for evil instead of good.”

She does turn to him then, getting an up-close look at the greenish, almost-hazel of his irises, the pronounced bridge of his nose.

“There’s nothing that’s unexplainable on this planet, Mulder. Just because we can’t explain it now doesn’t mean we never will. Consider how much science has progressed in the last fifty years alone. Who knows what we deem unexplainable now that will be perfectly understood in another fifty?”

He tilts his head closer to her and her heart speeds up, her lips parting unconsciously. His smirk is devastatingly sexy, and she suddenly doesn’t trust herself.

“May I use your bathroom?” she asks abruptly, looking away.

“Of course, it’s through the bedroom,” he says, hitching his thumb to the door behind and to their left.

She carefully makes her way into his bedroom, which contains a queen size mattress on a mahogany frame, a dresser, and not much else. He’s a man of simple means, it would seem. The bathroom is clean and devoid of skid marks and stray pubic hairs; the seat is even down. When she returns, he’s placed several of the files in a neat stack on the coffee table.

“These are the ones I’d recommend you read. At least they may be the ones you find most compelling,” he says as she returns to her seat, inching just a bit further away from him than she’d been before.

She takes the first from the stack and opens it. “So how’d you get into all this, Mulder? Have you always been into aliens, or did you see E.T. too many times when it came out?”

He doesn’t answer and she looks at him. He’s considering her, pondering. Deciding whether to tell her something.

Continue Reading here

#the x files #txf #dana scully #fox mulder #gillovny #msr #sculder #x files #xf fanfic #alternate universe

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hopelikethemoon · 5 years ago

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today (Javier x Reader) [smut]

Title: today Length: 3,200 Warnings: Angst, rough sex (shower sex, biting, unprotected), lots of fluff, parenthood, blood. Summary: Set a year after maybe, Javier and Reader come to terms with their relationship. Notes: So I’m literally terrified that this drabble will not hold up to the glory of maybe and I almost didn’t publish this. BUT I AM CAUSE YOLO. Shoutout to @rzrcrst for providing me with the best possible name for the baby.

The morning sun still managed to get through your opaque curtains, cutting harsh shadows across your bedroom as it shone brightly past the vinyl blinds. You nestled a little deeper into your pillow, trying to cling to those last few precious moments of sleep. Any second now your daughter would start crying — the new normal for your daily sunrises.

Javier, however, seemed determined to find a new morning ritual.

Now that you were awake, the possessive arm that he always kept wrapped around you had started to move downwards. Fingertips trailing over your stomach, tracing over the stretchmarks there, worshipping your soft flesh. You sighed softly as his hand moved lower beneath the waistband of your sleep shorts, slipping between your thighs.

“Morning,” He whispered as he pressed his lips to your shoulder as he dragged his fingers between your folds. You had lost count of how many mornings he had tried, in vain, to initiate sex. You could feel his stiff cock straining through his boxers and pressing against the back of your thigh as he curled close behind you.

You reached behind you, pushing your fingers through his hair as you parted your thighs for him. As much as you wanted him, you knew it wasn’t meant to be. Like clockwork your daughter would start crying — ruining any chance for waking up in your favorite fashion.

Three. Two. One.

Javier pressed his face into the crook of your neck and groaned, “Every damn morning.” He complained, pulling his hand out from between your thighs, releasing you so you could go to her.

It had been months. You had still been pregnant the last time you had Javier between your thighs. You missed it — desperately — but there just wasn’t any time.

No one at the DEA knew who the father was. You had both decided, early on, that it was for the best. Sure, some of the guys treated you like a two-bit whore when you said you didn’t know who the father was, but at least they weren’t trying to edge you out of the department because you were fucking your partner.

By the time you emerged from the nursery with a freshly changed and fed baby, Javier was already showered and dressed, sitting at your kitchen table nursing a cup of black coffee. You gave him a sympathetic smile, leaning down to press a kiss to his cheek. “Maybe tonight?”

Javier pursed his lips and shook his head. “I got stuck on the stakeout.” He took a sip of his coffee, before sitting it further up on the table so he could take Josie from you. He held her up in the air, much to her enjoyment. She adored him, almost as much as he adored her.

“I just fed her,” You warned him, running your hand over his shoulders before you headed towards the fridge to retrieve milk for your cereal.

“I don’t know how people do it,” Javier remarked, glancing back over his shoulder at you. “I had friends back home in Texas who had kids stacked up.”

You laughed as you moved to settle down beside him at the table. “Yeah...I have no idea how people have Irish twins.” You made a face. “If she’s not screaming, we’re both too tired...”

“I can’t believe I’m admitting this aloud, but I’m getting fucking tired of my own hand.” He complained, before showering his daughter with kisses as he bounced her on his lap.

“Her first word is going to be fucking if you’re not careful,” You teased. “Which is ironic, all things considered.”

Javier gave you a dirty look, though his lips still quirked upwards with amusement. “She’s going to be four months old in a week.” He reminded you.

“I know.” You propped your chin up on your palm as you watched him with her. No one at the office knew what he was like within the safety of your apartment. “How late do you think it’ll be tonight?”

“Probably late enough that I’ll just go take a shower and head into the office.”

You nodded, scooping up some cereal then. “I figured.”

“You do still want—“

“Yes.” You answered before he could even finish the sentence. “I keep hoping one morning she won’t interrupt us.”

“Knowing us, we’d just worry about why she wasn’t crying.” Javier rolled his eyes, before talking in a teasing voice to her. “Little Miss Josie enjoys interrupting mommy and daddy. Don’t you?” He tickled her sides and she squealed and giggled. He glanced up at you, “You’re sure…?”

“Javi.” You laughed, your cheeks turning red. “Trust me, I miss it just as much as you do.”

He smirked. “You’re driving me crazy, baby.” Javier snorted, glancing down at his daughter. “You too, Josie.”

“Luckily it’s a short drive.” You taunted with a self-satisfied grin, finishing off the last of your cereal and holding your hands out for her. “Good luck tonight, in case we don’t get a moment alone at work.”

Javier rose to his feet, settling his hand at your hip as he looked between you and Josie. “I’m gonna miss my girls tonight.”

“We’re going to miss you too.” You tilted your chin, smiling up at him as he leaned down to kiss you. Josie squawked over not being the center of attention, her chubby little hands grabbing at your faces.

“And I’ll see you tomorrow, lil’ miss.” He took her from you once more, playfully lifting Josie up in the air just to make her giggle. Javier grinned at you as he cradled her against his chest. Despite all of his initial hesitations about parenthood — he’d become an incredible father. You were fairly certain Josie was well on her way to being a daddy’s girl, just from how her sweet face lit up whenever he was around.

——

The rest of the day went by in a blur.

You dropped Josie off at the sitter down the hall from your apartment, a sweet older woman who you were certain Josie would grow up to call her abuelita. The nice part was that she had zero connections with the DEA, which meant both you and Javier were listed as her emergency contacts. One of the few places he was free to be acknowledged as her father.

Work dragged on for an eternity. Javier spent most of the day in and out of meetings in preparation for the stakeout, looking more stressed than usual. Especially when the CIA showed up for one of the late-afternoon briefings.

“Seems like a shit show,” You remarked to Javi as he came back from the break room with a styrofoam cup of stale coffee.

He grunted his response as he sank down at his desk across from you, glowering in your direction. “You have no idea.”

You weren’t alone in the bullpen of desks.

Chris, one of the lower level DEA agents, chimed in. “I guess every stakeout can’t be at a brothel. Eh, Peña?” He laughed, like it was the funniest damn thing he’d ever said.

“Damn shame.” Javier offered with a blasé tone, sipping at his coffee. Even though you’d lowered your gaze back to the mounting stack of papers on your desk, you knew he was watching you.

You’d managed to keep the charade in place for a year now, but sometimes it felt like the universe was testing your patience. Mostly it was just Chris, trying desperately to seem like he fit in around the office. He was obviously supposed to fill the void that Murphy left behind, but instead, he just became the gopher for whatever task Javier wasn’t in the mood to put up with.

“How’s the kiddo?” Chris asked as he leaned back in his seat and propped his legs up on his desk.

“She’s fine.” You answered crisply, offering a faint smile before shuffling your papers like you were busy.

“My girl’s been nagging me about kids. I told her — I don’t know if that’s for me. You know?” He wadded up a piece of paper and chucked it across the room, where it joined a pile of crumpled papers that hadn’t made it into the bin. “When’d you decide kids weren’t for you, Peña?”

Javier snorted, “I ain’t dead yet.”

Dissatisfied with Javier’s answer, Chris turned his attention back to you. “Well, I think it’s real modern of you to be a working mom. “I think Van Ness was raised by a single mom. He turned out okay.”

“I’m sure Josie will turn out just like her mom,” Javier interjected, getting up from his desk to throw Chris’ paper mess away in the bin. He passed behind your desk and gave your shoulder a friendly squeeze, though you knew exactly what those three little squeezes meant. “I hate to abandon this riveting conversation, but I gotta head out.” He nodded his head towards Chris, before leaving with a lingering look in your direction.

——

The little chain attached to your bedside lamp clinked against the metal base as it swung freely. The warm golden light cut through the darkness of your bedroom, casting ominous shadows across Javier’s face as he stood in the doorway. You were relieved, at first, to see him — until you took account of the dark stains that colored his pale blue shirt. The crimson that was smeared across his cheek.

“Javi—�� You started, throwing your covers back as you moved towards him. “What the hell happened?” Your eyes raked over him, looking for the source of the blood. “Are you hurt?”

“Daniel.” He answered lowly, “He got shot.”

Javier flinched when you reached out to touch him, his hand flying up to grab your wrists. He squeezed it tightly, just this side of pain. You could feel the tension radiating off of him, the barely contained rage flowing through him. The after-effects of a firefight.

“Don’t.” Javier warned as you started to reach out for him with the hand that wasn’t caught in his vice-like grip.

“Tell me what happened.”

He looked away, brows furrowed and his jaw working tightly. “The intel was bad. Shit was a setup.” He loosened his hold on your wrist, letting his arms drop down by his sides. “He’ll live. Barely.”

“Good.” Your heart was still racing from the alarm of being awoken in the middle of the night. Javier was lucky you recognized his footsteps, otherwise, you would’ve been forced to use the gun in your nightstand. “You didn’t answer me.”

“I’m fine.” He gritted out, but you knew that wasn’t the case. Maybe he was physically unharmed, but his demeanor told another story. He’d been through hell and back and his first instinct was to come home to you. Bloodied and brooding, you were the person he sought out when nothing made sense.

Javier didn’t pull away when you reached for him again. You brushed your fingertips over his forehead, trailing them down along the rise of his cheekbone. His expression softened subtly as he closed his eyes and leaned into your touch. “Let me take care of you.” You whispered, taking his hand into yours. “You need a shower.” Not only was he covered in blood, but you could smell the adrenaline-fueled sweat clinging to his skin.

He nodded stiffly and let you guide him out of your bedroom and down the hall to the bathroom. His clothes came off easily, his ruined shirt abandoned on the floor, joined moments later by his dark denim jeans that were darkened in spots by Daniel’s blood.

Neither of you spoke as you helped him undress. Words just weren’t necessary as you turned the shower on and watched him step behind the sliding glass door. Nothing even needed to be said when you followed him in, still dressed in your sleep shorts and a tank top.

The warm water washed the blood off his skin, turning the water red around your bare feet. You dragged a washcloth over his neck and jaw, wiping away what the water couldn’t claim. Your soft touches couldn’t ease all of the tension in his body. He was holding it all in, desperate to keep control of his emotions.

Javier crowded you back against the wall of the shower, breathing raggedly as he stared down at you — like a predator with its prey. Something snapped; the tension, the desire, the rush of emotions. His fingers clawed at your sleep shorts, dragging the damp fabric down your hips. You surged up to kiss him, fingers curling around the back of his neck as your mouth slanted against his. A clash of teeth, a twist of tongues, desperate and bruising and fueled by a need.

He tore at your tank top, freeing one breast and roughly palming at it. It had been months since you’d been touched like this. Any attempt at intimacy had come from early morning interrupted fumbles and half-asleep groping that inevitably ended in snoring.

“Please.” You hissed out, fingernails dragging down the back of his neck, pressing close to him. His rigid cock was trapped between your bellies and you groaned at the mere thought of having him in you again.

Javier’s teeth dragged over your bottom lip with just enough pressure that you were certain your lip would be swollen tomorrow. You didn’t care. You’d wear the marks he gave you, in trade for the ones he wore that were beneath the skin.

His fingers twisted in your hair, a harsh grip as he turned you around to face the wall. Your tender breasts pressed against the cool tile, a shiver racing down your spine. He kissed the back of your neck, tongue tracing water droplets that cling to your shoulder. His teeth found purchase on a tender spot of skin where your neck became your shoulder and you tried not to cry out.

You wanted Josie to stay asleep. You needed Javier too much to stop.

His fingers grabbed at your thigh, fingers pressing into soft flesh harshly enough to bruise. He used his knee to nudge your legs apart wider, positioning you just right.

Javier released his grip on your hair, using his hand to cover your mouth. Your teeth scraped against his palm, finding purchase in the skin to muffle the moan that escaped you as he guided his cock into you. He pressed in until your ass was pressed against his hips — filling you completely.

You pried his hand off your mouth, panting out his name. He wasn’t moving and you desperately needed him to move. You clenched around him, trying to spur him on and it worked.

He fucked you like his life depended on it. All of that tension he’d balled up inside of himself came flooding out of him with every brutal snap of his hips. You were trapped between the wall and his cock — fingers grabbed at the forearm he had securely wrapped around your waist, keeping you pinned against him.

His other hand was wedged between your thighs, roughly stroking at your clit in time with his pace. It almost hurt, how hard you came apart for him. Your body bowed back against his chest, hands uselessly grabbing at the wet shower wall for support.

Javier’s teeth left a mark on your shoulder as he followed behind you. All it took was two sharp thrusts and you felt him spill within you, his cock throbbing as you clenched around him desperately. The water had gone cold above you, but that wasn’t the only reason you were trembling. Despite how roughly he had handled you, in the aftermath he lavished your tender skin with soft kisses and touches, trying to ease the pain he’d caused.

It wasn’t until Javier’s cock slid out of you and you were able to turn around to face him that you saw how red his eyes were. If you didn’t know better, you would’ve mistaken his tears for the water droplets flowing down his cheeks from the showerhead. But you knew him. Better than anyone else did.

Javier wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into his chest. You didn’t care how cold the water got above you, you played with his hair and held him while he sobbed into your shoulder.

——

When the first light of morning crept in through your windows, you were surprised to find the bed empty beside you. Instinctively, you got out of bed and made your way down the hall to the nursery. Your heart clenched as you pushed the door open and found Javier inside.

He was sound asleep on the floor beside Josie’s crib, his hand wedged between the gap in the bars. Josie had fallen asleep with her little hand wrapped around his fingers. You quietly stepped further inside, leaving the door partially open so the sound of the door shutting wouldn’t disturb them. You moved towards the rocking chair in the corner of the room, taking the blanket off the arm. As you turned back around, Javier stirred — blinking groggily up at you.

You pressed a finger to your lips to keep him quiet as you sat down on the floor beside him. You unfolded the blanket over your laps, settling yourself into his side, resting your cheek against his chest.

Javier kissed the top of your head, curling his arm around your shoulders. “I want to tell them.” He whispered into your hair.

You shifted beside him so you could cup his cheek, leaning in to press a kiss to his lips. “Then we’ll tell them today.”

Daniel getting shot had broken something within him. He hadn’t said it, but you knew. You understood it. That fear. Now that you had a kid, the DEA didn’t put you into as many dangerous situations — but Javi was still out there getting shot at, playing Russian Roulette with his life. It could’ve easily been Javier who had gotten shot last night and you wouldn’t have known until you walked into work and read a report.

“Javi,” You started, tracing your fingertips over his collarbone as you watched him.

“Mhm?”

“I want you to move in.”

Javier grinned back at you, his fingers squeezing your shoulder three short times. “Thought you’d never ask, baby.”

Josie whimpered softly in her crib and you couldn’t help but laugh. “I was wondering when that was going to happen.”

Javier got up to get her before joining you on the floor again, leaning back against the crib. “You’re going to get so sick of me.” He said in a teasing voice to Josie as he propped her up against his bent knees. “Daddy’s going to be here all the time now.”

You scooted close, resting your head on his shoulder. “I don’t think she could ever get sick of you.”

“What about you?”

“Jury’s out on that one.” You pulled back a little to look at him, lips pursed together thoughtfully. “There’s always the potential.”

The morning felt like any other.

Javier dressed while Josie nursed. He had coffee made and on the table when you came into the kitchen. He entertained the baby while you made yourself a bowl of cereal.

But today he didn’t leave before you.

Today, your car didn’t leave the parking lot.

Today, Javi drove to work with his hand on your thigh, rubbing those annoying little circles of his into your leg.

Today, you stole a kiss from him in the elevator.

Today, you didn’t care what anyone thought.

Today, Javier wasn’t just your partner — he was Josie’s father.

#javier pena x reader #javier pena smut #pedro pascal x reader #javier pena

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atlafan · 5 years ago

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Take it Slow - Part Eighty-One

a/n: okay this is my first shot at a harry:y/n fic, and it will be multiple parts. y/n had a bad experience with an ex over a year ago, and finally accepts her coworker and good friend Niall’s invitation to go on a blind date with his friend Harry.

Warnings: Fluff and smut.

Masterpost (all previous parts can be found in the masterpost)

Harry woke up by himself the next morning. He had to remember where he was, and that he couldn’t just go down the stairs in his boxers. Well he probably could, but he didn’t wanna hear the girls hooting and hollering. He throws a graphic T and workout shorts on. When he opens the door he smells eggs, bacon, and toast..and hears a lot of giggling. It was only 8:30, how fucking early did they get up. He sees Niall in the hallway.

“How fuckin’ early did they get up?”

“Sarah got out of bed at 3AM, I think they watched a movie downstairs.”

“I didn’t even hear Y/N get up…”

The boys go downstairs. There were mimosas in flutes ready to go, and a ton of food. You smile at Harry. You had a long t-shirt on and some spandex shorts. You grab a mimosa and hand it to him.

“Morning! I made you some vegan sausages and there’s toast too. Here, mimosas are perfect for hangovers, oh! I made hashbrowns too.”

“Uh, thanks sweetie.” He takes a sip. “I didn’t hear you get up last night.”

“Yeah, I passed out for a few hours and then I woke up and couldn’t fall back asleep so I went downstairs, and Sarah was already down there and then Rachel came down so we just hung out and then we went to the store the second it opened.”

Harry and Niall make plates. Mariah was already sitting at the table, sipping on some coffee.

“Did you go to the store with them?” Harry asks.

“No, I woke up just as confused as you did. I came down to make coffee and they come rushing in with so much fucking food.”

You and the girls sit down.

“So, we’re doin’ the beach today?” Niall asks.

“Yup! And we already packed up all our lunches and everything else we could need. Just need to change into swimsuits.” Sarah says.

“How…how are you all functioning?”

“Three words.” Rachel says. “Boot and rally.” Harry looks at you and puts a hand on your shoulder.

“You got sick?”

“No…well, only once, but I was fine after. I actually felt a lot better after. Drank a bunch of water.”

“How did we not hear you all pukin’?” Niall asks.

“Can we not talk about puke, please?” Mariah asks.

You all laugh and continue eating. You leave the boys to clean up since you all cooked. You were just picking your bathing suit out when Harry comes into the room. He comes up from behind you to hug you.

“I didn’t get to return the favor last night.” He whispers in your ear and you smile. You turn around to face him. “That was also one hell of a blow job.”

“Oh, yeah? You liked that?”

“Loved it.” He kisses you. Just as he’s about to take your shirt off you hear Rachel scream from down the hall.

“What the….” You run to the door and open in it. You see Rachel on the floor laughing and you run to her. “What happened?!” You look to where she’s pointing and start laughing too. Harry runs down the hall and looks at Mariah, then into Sarah and Niall’s room.

“I’ve never seen a whiter ass in my life! You better make sure he puts some sunscreen on!” Rachel laughs harder.

“Now who were you saying couldn’t keep their hands off each other? All the doors lock you idiot!”

“Stop it! Can you all please, just stop!” Sarah had tugged her robe on, and Niall was wrapped in a blanket, also laughing. “What were you even doing just walking into our room?!”

“You have my cover up!”

“You could have knocked!”

“Oi! Let’s move on, clearly they wanna get it on before we go to the beach, I saw we let them. You dirty little animals!”

Sarah groans loudly and slams the door shut, everyone hears her lock it. You help Rachel up off the ground.

“The whitest ass I’ve ever seen.” She mouths to you and you giggle.

“It’s that Irish skin, love.” Harry winks at her and leads you back down the hall to your room.

“I am so glad our room is farther away. Least now she knows what it’s like.”

“Yup, so let’s lock our door, and-“

“Get dressed? Yeah, I was thinking the same thing.”

“Oh, come on, I was just about to-“

“The moment has passed, I’m sorry baby.”

You grab your bathing suit and go into the bathroom to change and do your hair. Harry silently screams and then calms down and grabs his yellow trunks to change into. You come out in a strapless black top, and a high waisted black bottom.

“Jesus.”

“Could you actually tie the back tighter for me? I feel like I’m gonna fall out of this thing.”

“Yeah, sure.”

He unties the flimsy knot you made and ties at it, make it nice and tight. Then he ties it into a nice bow.

“Thanks sweetie.” You grab your blue coverup dress and throw it on. You bend over and put your hair into a ponytail. You feel a smack to your ass and you stand up after putting your hair up. You turn to look at Harry. “You really wanna play that game with me right now?”

“If you’re gonna deprive me, yeah.”

“Deprive you!” You laugh, and there’s a knock at the door. You open it and see Rachel and Mariah.

“You guys ready? Sarah’s in the car already.” Rachel says.

“She’s psychotic.” You laugh. “Come on, Harry.”

You all cram into Sarah’s car. Harry pulls you onto his lap, and off you go to the beach. It was a beautiful day out, not a cloud in the sky. When you get out of the car you fix your hair so it’s up in a bun. You all find a spot away from the more crowded areas, and spread out. You spread out a large towel and so do the girls. Harry and Niall both brought chairs to sit in. Niall sets an umbrella up to put the coolers under. You take your cover up off.

“Oh, Y/N! What a cute two piece.” Rachel says to you.

“Thanks! I got it to wear in Aruba since my ass is a little more covered, you know?”

Mariah had a cute, teal one piece on with a little cute out on the upper stomach. Rachel was in a pink two piece, and Sarah was wearing a floral, strapless two piece.

“Okay, let’s pictures before we all get sweaty and gross.” Sarah says.

“Good idea.” You say. “Let’s go down near the water.”

“Do you want me to take pictures for you?” Mariah asks.

“That’d be great, babe!” Rachel kisses her on the cheek and the four go down towards the water.

Harry and Niall continue setting up, but they can’t help but look at their girlfriends.

“Look at them pose.” Niall chuckles.

You all take silly photos. The three of you turn around and look over your shoulders and pout towards the camera. You all looked cute with your sunglasses on. You jump onto Rachel’s back and Mariah gets a great shot of Sarah laughing at the two of you. The three of you come back up, and you sit on Harry’s lap.

“So cute.” Mariah takes your picture with him.

“Would you put some sunscreen on my back?” Harry asks.

“Mhm.”

You both stand up and you spray the lotion on him, rubbing it in good to his shoulders and the back of his neck.

“I think I’m gonna lay on my stomach for a bit.” You say.

“Oh, me too. Do that for a little while then we’ll be hot enough to go for a swim.” Sarah says.

The three of you all lay on your stomachs on your towels, and the three of you reach simultaneously for the ties on your suits.

“Woah! What are yeh doin’?” Niall asks. You turn to look at him, and dip your sunglasses so you can really make eye contact.

“Do you know how annoying these tan lines would be, everybody does this.” You look over at Harry. “Could you get my back for me please?”

He swallows hard. He truly thinks the three of you are crazy to so easily expose yourselves. One wrong move and a boob could pop out. But the three of you clearly didn’t care. He looks over at Mariah who was already rubbing lotion on Rachel, and Niall was doing the same for Sarah. He decides that if you’re going to torture him like this, he may as well have some fun. He takes a seat on your bum and you gasp.

“You’re too heavy!”

“Am not, relax.” He sprays the lotion in his hands and works it up and down your back. He’d feel terrible if you burned, even if you did seem to have a decent tan already. “Want me to get the backs of your legs too.”

“Yes please.”

He does so and gets off of you.

“Come lay next to me for a bit.” You smile at him and he gets on his stomach next to you.

Your eyes feel droopy and you slowly start to drift off. Harry eventually gets up to sit in his chair. He grabs his glasses and takes his book out. You wake up to the feeling of more sunscreen being sprayed on your back.

“Shit, sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you…” Harry says.

“That’s okay.” You grab your top and sit up.

“Jesus, Y/N!”

“I’m covered, relax. Can you tie me up please?” Harry kneels behind you and ties your top back up. “Thank you.” You look over and see Rachel and Sarah still asleep. “Wanna go into the water, baby?”

“Yeah.” He smiles and helps you up. You walk hand in hand down to the water. “Are you having fun so far?”

“Mhm, lots.” You dip your toe in. “Wow, it’s actually warm.” You look up at him. “Please don’t throw me in again, I don’t wanna wash my hair later.”

“Alright.”

You both wade into the water and get about hip deep. Harry dives in and gets his hair all wet. You giggle when he comes back up and you run your hand through it. He pulls you close and down slightly so you’ll swim with him.

“Oh, Niall, grab Harry’s phone, take a picture of them.” Mariah says.

“Good idea.” He takes a couple snaps of you two in the water.

You wrap your arms and legs around Harry and he carries you in just a little deeper. You put your sunglasses on the top of your head and kiss him. You tug at his hair slightly and his tongue enters your mouth. You moan quietly against him. You let go and look around, there weren’t any people around you.

“Do you think anyone would see…if…” You start blushing, and he raises an eyebrow at you.

“If we what, angel?” He kisses on your neck.

“If we, if you just…stick it in.” You look up at him.

“You want have sex in the water?”

“Where else can we sneak off to? I’m certainly not fucking you in the bathroom, that’s gross, and I think Sarah would kill me if fucked in her car, and I…I want you.”

“Alright, I’ll, uh, I’ll just finger you, yeah?”

“Okay.”

He goes in just a little deeper to make sure most of your bodies were covered. He holds you close with one arm and you cling to him will his other hand moves your bathing suit bottom to the side. He brushes over you at first, but doesn’t waste time being cute. Two fingers are being pushed inside you before you know it. You hide your face in the crook of his neck, and grab at his hair.

“Where are Harry and Y/N?” Rachel asks with a yawn.

“They went for a dip.” Niall points. Sarah gets up and sits in his lap. He ties up the back of her suit for her.

“What are they doing?” Sarah asks, rubbing sleep from her eyes.

Niall squints and then his eyes grow wide.

“Uhhh, just looks like they’re uh havin’ a quick snog.”

“Snog?” Sarah laughs.

“Probably didn’t wanna, um, makeout right in front of us.”

Niall had an idea that more was going on, but didn’t want to draw attention to it.

“Harry.” You whisper into his ear.

“Doin’ so good bein’ quiet.” He says as his fingers curl up inside you.

“I need you to kiss me.” You groan.

You move your face to his and your lips slot over his. He knew you were close. You were tightening and pulsating around him. His thumb rubs over your clit and you gasp.

“Shhh, come back to me.” Your lips find his again and you bite down on his bottom lip to stifle yourself.

He pumps in and out of you faster, and your legs tighten around his waist. You tug harshly at his hair, and then your body goes slack. Waves of pleasure coming over you. Harry holds you up, and slowly retracts his fingers from you. You rest your head against his chest as you catch your breath. You drop your legs from his waist and look up at him. He cups your cheeks and kisses you tenderly.

“What can I do for you?” You say against his lips.

“Just need a sec, I’ll be alright.” You giggle as he swims around trying to get rid of his boner.

You swim around a bit yourself and you both work your way back towards the shore. Your friends were starting to sip on drinks and eat snacks when you get back to your spot.

“Here’s Y/N.” Sarah tosses you a hard seltzer.

“Thanks!” You crack it open and slide your sunglasses back down. Harry sits in his chair and pulls you to sit on him.

“You two have fun in the water?” Niall asks.

“Mhm.” You say sipping your drink. “Water feels great, actually. You all should go for a swim.”

After chilling for a bit, and listening to music you feel a little bored.

“Rach, do you wanna go in the water and toss the tennis ball around with me?”

“Yeah!”

You give Harry a kiss on the cheek and walk down to the water with Rachel. Harry settles back in with his glasses and book.

“Harry, I have to say, you look so adorable with your glasses.” Sarah says.

“Thanks.” He chuckles.

“You don’t wear them often.”

“Just need ‘em for readin’ like Niall does.”

“Babe.” She says to Niall. “I’m gonna go play catch with them.”

“Alright.” He smiles and puckers his lips, and she kisses him. The three watch you all toss the tennis ball around. “This is like way more chill than I thought would be, it’s great.”

“Yeah, I thought they’d be hammered.” Harry says.

“That’ll happen tonight I’m sure.” Mariah says.

You all come back up for lunch. You hand Harry a lettuce wrap, and sit on your towel.

“So when is your actual birthday, Y/N?” Mariah asks.

“Sunday.” Harry says, and you smile at him.

“So we’ll go to an actual club tomorrow night.” You explain.

“What’s the plan for tonight?” Niall asks. You look at Rachel and Sarah.

“Well, we have some stuff planned. There’s a carnival along the peer. Thought after dinner we could pregame a little, and then check out some of the rides and stuff.” Sarah says.

“Oh that sounds like fun! Then we can get that fire pit up and running after get back.” You say.

“Then Sunday we were thinking of taking the ferry to the Vineyard.” Rachel says.

“Yes! We can go to that ice cream place, and that house with all the Betty Boop stuff out front.”

“And Sunday night we’ll go out for a nice dinner.” Sarah says.

“Wow, you guys really got it all figured out.” Niall smirks.

“Oh, we don’t fuck around when it comes to birthdays.” Rachel says.

As the afternoon sun gets stronger, you go back and forth between water and hard seltzer. You were itching to actually have sex with Harry. Around 4PM you all pack everything up and get into the car.

“Think I’m gonna shower when we back.” You announce. “What are we doing for dinner?”

“Niall, wanna get the grill goin’?” Harry asks.

“Sure! We can do a little BBQ.”

You all get into the house. Everyone wanted to get out of their bathing suits, so Harry followed you upstairs. You close your door and lock it behind you. He helps you untie the knot on your swim suit and you sigh with relief.

“Shit, you got a little pink, babe.”

You look down at yourself and see the small patches.

“It’s alright, it’ll fade. Besides, you can just rub some aloe on me.” You wink. You bite your bottom. “Wanna hop in the shower with me?”

“Yes.”

He follows you in, and you turn the water on. You get the rest of your suit off and so does he. You both giggle as you get in. He was pressed right against you.

“Tight squeeze, yeah?” He chuckles.

“Just a little. We might need to get creative. Do you have room to lift me?”

“Let’s find out.”

Rachel was in the bathroom attached to her room, washing her face off when she heard something. She didn’t think much of it until she heard it again.

“Oh my god, Mariah.” She says giggle. Mariah was just getting into a t-shirt and shorts.

“Yeah?”

“Come here and tell me if you’re hearing what I’m hearing.”

Mariah smirks and comes into the bathroom.

“Fuck, Harry.” You moan.

Harry had lifted you, and gotten your legs hooked under his arms. He was getting in so deep. He lets one of your legs drop and you pout. He puts a hand over your mouth to signal you needed to be a little quieter. He keeps it there as you moan out again. You try to say something so he takes his hand away.

“Please, wrap your hand around my throat, need it.”

Everything was muffled, but Mariah heard it. Her jaw drops and she looks at Rachel. They quietly leave the bathroom and start laughing.

“They’re wild.” Rachel says.

“Jesus, I thought they got enough in the water.”

“What do you mean?”

“When they were swimming earlier, he for sure was diddling her, why do you think they were wrapped up so close?”

“Damn, good for them.”

“Come on, let’s see if Niall needs some help with the grill.” She kisses Rachel quick and they head downstairs.

Harry had his hand around your throat as you requested, not as hard as you would have liked, but he didn’t want to leave any new marks. He didn’t want anyone giving you a tough time this weekend. He gives you another squeeze and then he lets go of you, bringing his hand down to rub your clit. Your head rolls back against the tile. Your nails dig into his shoulders and you release. His comes shortly after, long overdue. He fills you up, and then watches it drip out of you.

“I hate when you watch.” You whine.

“Can’t help it. Pass me the bodywash.”

You both finish up and get out. You pick out a pair of shorts, a tank top, and a cardigan.

“Babe, if you grab your brush and some elastics, I’ll braid yeh hair downstairs.”

“Really?!” You squeal and grab your things. You loved when Harry did your hair.

You both head downstairs. Niall and Sarah were outside with the grill while Mariah and Rachel were preparing a salad. Harry sits on the couch and you sit in front of him on the floor. He takes your hair out of your bun and runs his hands through your hair.

“How do yeh want it?”

Rachel nearly chokes on her drink when she hears him ask you the question.

“Are you okay?” You say to her.

“Yeah, um, what are you guys doing?”

“Harry’s gonna braid my hair.” You smile. “He’s really good at it.”

“How do you know how to braid hair?”

“My hair used to be, like, really long, so I just learned.” He shrugs.

You roll your head back to look at him. He raises his eyebrows at you, still waiting for an answer.

“Could you do a big one down the middle and then put it up into a pony?”

“Yup.” He kisses your forehead and you face forward again.

You close your eyes as his fingers rake through your hair and starts his work.

“This I have to see.” Rachel comes over and sits next to Harry, and watches his fingers move with intricacy.

“Oi! Do you two want veggie burgers?” Niall shouts.

“Yes please!” You shout back.

Harry finishes your hair, and taps you on the shoulders.

“How’s it look?” You ask Rachel.

“Really good! Nice work, Harry.”

“What can I say? I have a gift.”

You kiss him on the cheek. You all head outside to eat dinner. The house had a nice patio and large glass table to fit everyone. Sarah had set everything up buffet style. You make up a plate for Harry and kiss him on the top of his head as you set it down in front of him. You all enjoy fun conversations and tell jokes while you eat.

Once dinner is cleaned up, the blender is broken out for frozen margaritas. Someone puts music on and you all are just being goofy having a good time. You change into a pair of jeans and some sneakers before you walk out to go to the carnival. The peer was only a short distance from the house. Harry keeps an arm hooked around your waist as you walk. You all get wrist bands so you don’t have to worry about tickets.

“Okay, I’m telling you now, I do not like roller coasters, so I won’t be doing any of the crazy rides.” You tell Harry. He laughs and nods his head.

“So are we splitting up, staying together, what’s the game plan?” Mariah asks.

“Let’s stay together.” You say. “We’re in even number so all the rides we agree on should work out.”

You all head towards the tilta whirl first. You white knuckle the bar as the ride starts to move forward. Harry throws an arm around your shoulders. The ride goes faster and you start screaming. You look up at Harry and your screams turn into laughter. He’s laughing too. The rides slows and you catch your breath, but you remember it goes backwards just as fast.

“Holy shit!” You scream, laugh.

The rides ends and you all get off. You and the girls take some selfies, and you take one with Harry.

“Y/N, take one with Niall.” Sarah says.

You and Niall press back to back and cross your arms, looking oh so cool. You giggle at each other and he hugs you, Sarah snapping another cute picture. You go on another couple of rides, and let the boys go on some of the more vigorous ones. Eventually you all start walking around to where you can win prizes. You do a ring toss, but don’t win. Harry plays the bottle game and manages to knock them down, winning you a teddy bear.

“Oh my god!” You squeal and wrap your arms around his neck. You kiss him on the cheek and take the bear.

You and the girls split some fried dough before heading back to the house. Niall and Harry get the fire going while Mariah finds some blankets, and you and the girls get the chairs set up.

Rachel and Mariah sit in a wicker love-seat, and snuggle up under a blanket. Harry pulls you into his lap and Sarah sits on Niall’s.

“This was the perfect day.” You say, nestling in further to Harry. He was practically cradling you.

You were all sipping on beers, just shooting the shit. The conversation had turned a little more serious, but in a good way. Rachel was talking about how her parents were going to move to Florida soon.

“They’re leaving in November, can you believe that? Right before Thanksgiving. They said I could come down for the holidays, as if plane tickets don’t cost an arm and a leg.” She sighs. “I’m happy for them…my brother and I don’t exactly need them close by anymore, but now we have to like pack up our childhood home, it sucks.” Mariah squeezes her shoulder.

“Do you need any help? We can be there for you.” You say.

“Thanks, that’s sweet. I’m gonna take some time at the end of the month to go there, I’ll let you guys know.”

A few beers later, and Niall goes inside to use the bathroom. Harry needed to pee too, so you let him get up to go. Sarah couldn’t contain herself anymore.

“Okay, so do you guys wanna know why Niall and I got busy this morning?” She grins.

“Yes!” You say. “Spill.”

“He invited me to go to Ireland with him at the end of the month!”

You all squeal, even Mariah joins in.

“That’s amazing!” Rachel exclaims. “He just asked you this morning, out of the blue?”

“He said he wanted to ask me sooner, but he wanted to make it special, and then he was like what am I even freaking out about, and then…this morning…he just put two plane tickets on the bed…that he made himself, cause obviously you can’t print the boarding passes.”

“Wait, so he had already gotten everything together?” You ask.

“Yes! It was so romantic, and then fucking Rachel ruined it!” She laughs.

“Lock the fucking door tonight then, bitch!”

“What are yeh all yellin’ about out here?” Niall asks, coming back out with more drinks and Harry. You move so you can continues sitting in his lap.

“You, you little softy.” You say.

“What did I do? Oh!” He looks at Sarah, and holds her a little tighter. “You told them?”

“Mhm.” She kisses him.

This was a big deal for Niall. He had never brought a girl home before, not like this anyways. He loved Sarah, and she loved him. He also planned to ask her to move in with him soon, but that will come later.

“You’re gonna love Niall’s mum and brothers, they’re awesome.” Harry says.

“I’m really excited! I went to Ireland in high school on a class trip, and have always wanted to go back.” She looks at him. “This’ll be much more special though.”

You’re exhausted by the time you head up to bed. You flop onto your back and sigh.

“Can’t sleep in your clothes love.”

“But I’m too lazy to take them off.”

Harry grabs you by the ankles and brings you closer to the edge of the bed. You giggle as he undoes your jeans and drags them down your legs. You kick them off and he tugs at your panties.

“You better not fall asleep on me tonight.” He smirks as you lift your hips to help him get your underwear off.

“Don’t worry, I won’t. I’ll be your good girl.” You giggle.

Both of his eyebrows raise. “How drunk are you?”

“Only a little.” You prop up on your elbows and open your legs for him. “Come on baby.” You pout. “Know you want a taste.”

Harry licks his lips. He loves when you’re like this. You move back on the bed so he can get on too. He kisses from your knee to your inner thigh. His thumb brushes over one of the mark he left from the other day. He sucks on a spot right next to it. He had gotten really into leaving love bites on your inner thighs for some reason. For the most part, they were easier to hide. Harry had always liked leaving marks out in the open for anyone to see, but lately it really turned him on to leave marks where only he’d be able to see them.

You gasp when you feel the skin break, and he licks over it to soothe you. He swipes a stripe up your center without warning. He does this a few times, looking up at you, you looking right back at him. His eyes flutter closed when his tongue goes up inside you, his thumb rubbing slow circles on your clit. You tug at his hair and he groans against you.

“Don’t, don’t come in your pants, I’m gonna want that.”

He gives you a thumbs up as his lips wrap around your clit and two of his fingers are plunging inside you. You gasp as your head rolls back into the pillow.

“Bite down on somethin’.” He says against you, still driving his fingers in and out.

“No, don’t wanna.”

“I don’t want them to hear you.”

“Harry, I don’t wanna be-“

He yanks his fingers out of you and gives you a stern look.

“Now, it’s your birthday weekend, so I really wanna be nice and sweet to you, but I can’t do that if you don’t listen to me.” Your cheeks flush. You can’t remember the last time he was so…dominant with you. Daddy was in town, not that you would ever fucking say that to him. “I won’t let you come if you don’t do as I say.” You swear you felt your pussy throb. “We clear?”

“Yes.”

He smiles at you and you place your forearm over your mouth. He inserts his fingers back into you. He was knuckle deep and hitting just where you needed him to. You clasp both hands over your mouth and your eyes roll into the back of your head. Your chest was heaving, and you watch Harry sucks his fingers into his mouth. You sit up and take your shirt off, along with your bra. Harry takes all of his clothes off and hovers over you.

He kisses you deeply while you line him up with yourself. He pushes in and you both groan. You felt like you had been fucking all day…probably because technically you had. Harry gives you a good thrust and the bed makes a sound against the wall. You both ignore it until it happens a few more times.

“Oh, you’ve got to be fuckin’ kidding me.” He sighs. “It’s too loud.” He looks at you.

“Floor.”

“What?”

“Fuck me on the floor, or push me up against the wall, or I don’t give a fuck.”

He pulls out of you and throws a blanket on the floor. He didn’t want to hurt your back. You lay down and tug him to the floor. He thrusts back inside of you.

“Are you comfortable like this? You could ride me instead…”

“No, actually, it’s fine.” You smile warmly. “It’s like when we were in that field in the countryside…” Harry’s cock twitches and he starts rocking in and out of you. “Ngh, I had never done anything like that before, it was so spontaneous.”

“We could have, fuck, easily just gone into the car too.” He plants wet kisses on your neck as you wrap your legs around him.

“But we were having such a nice picnic…”

“And you were wearing that light blue dress with the buttons down the front.” He kisses you and sucks your bottom lip into his mouth.

The hand not propping himself up kneads one of your breasts and you moan out.

“You got those buttons open so fast.”

“Yeah, I did.” He smirks. “You took it so well that day too, you really let me give it to you.” He gives you a sharp thrust and you bite into his shoulder.

“We could be as loud as we wanted that day.”

He sits up and throws your legs over his shoulders. Now he just wasn’t playing fair, but so could you. You knew how to be quiet, you knew how to turn it off. The only sound filling the room was his skin slapping against yours. You were making really intense eye contact. He was actually surprised at how cool your composure was. You grin at him deviously and clench around him.

“Jesus, shit.” He groans.

“Gotta be quiet baby.” You say mockingly.

He leans in and wraps his hand around your throat, you reach up and do the same to him. You were equally matched at the moment. You rock your hips along with his and you both just fucking lose it. Your orgasm floods over you and he fills you to the brim. He pulls out and sticks his middle finger right in. He pulls it from you and you open your mouth to suck on. Your eyes close as your tongue laps around it.

Harry helps you up off the floor and you both go do your nightly routines in the bathroom. You throw one of his t-shirts on, and get into bed with him. You both face each other and get your legs nice and tangled up. He rubs your back and pulls you closer to him. You kiss him and turn over so he can spoon you. You both fall asleep in minutes.

#take it slow #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles fic #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles fluff fic #harry styles smut fic #fluff #smut #another longish one!#beach day baby!!!

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cilldaracailin · 4 years ago

Text

Crazy Little Thing Called Love

Hello my Tumblr lovelys!

I am back with the next part of this story and I have left some gift baskets around the story with paper bags, oxygen masks, chocolate, blankets and some more chocolate. Please make use of them as needed as you read this part.

This one is for @hitmeonmytspot @fuseburner @primaba11erina and @turkish276

Please don’t all come for me at once and perhaps some warning before hand would be wonderful!

Suze xxx

P.S There are a good few Irish words in this part and there is an English translation straight after. I normally phonetically sound out the Irish words but because there are quite a few, I am not going to, unless someone really wants me to.

P.P.S That might just be me on St Patricks Day years ago in my Irish Dancing costume in the picture....

“Cleachtadh a dhéanann maistracht – Practise makes perfect”

As she made her way back to her table, she said hello to anyone she knew and as she wandered closer to her seat, she could hear loud laughter and didn’t know whether to be worried or relieved.

“Thanks Robyn.” Taron took his bottle of beer from her and she set the other drinks on the table in front of him.

“So, you are still alive then.” She said pulling a chair over beside him.

“And you too. Claire quiz you?”

Robyn grinned at him. “Just some girl talk.”

“Bloody girl talk.” He muttered before taking a drink from his bottle.

“We have been having a very interesting conversation with Taron.” Shane said wriggling his eyebrows at Robyn.

“It doesn’t surprise me at all.” She answered him. “And have you mauled him yet?” She threw his way, grinning as Shane blushed from ear to ear.

“Robyn!” His voice was a near high pitch squeal.

“And may I remind you that you are married.”

“You are coming out all defensive already Robyn and the evening hasn’t even begun. I was asking him about his time filming Rocketman.”

“I just know what you are like.” She answered him back and felt Taron shift a little in his chair so he could be a bit closer to her.

“He wanted to know about how we filmed the under-water scene.” Taron explained. “And if the hot pants chaffed.”

Another round of laughter circled the table. “It is a valid question and as a gay man, I think it is ok to ask.” Explained Shane.

“And did you get you answer?” Robyn asked as Claire took a seat beside her, carrying a tray with some drinks for everyone else at the table.

“Was waiting for it when you arrived back on your high horse.”

Robyn stuck her tongue out at her male friend and turned her attention to her drink. “Well don’t let me stop the conversation.”

Taron looked from Shane to Robyn and back to Shane before taking a glance at Claire who nodded her head at him and after he had swung his arm around the back of Robyn’s chair, answered the question.

“Not at all. They were actually quite comfortable.”

“They didn’t go up your bum?”

Robyn was mid swallow of her drink as Shane asked the question and some of it dribbled out of her mouth and she sat forward quickly trying to catch the drops in her hand so it wouldn’t get on her skirt. She was thankful for the tissue Claire quickly got her and wiped her chin and her hands before turning to Shane and glaring at him.

“You think you are the only one who can play this game?” She asked him with an edge to her voice.

“What game?” Asked Shane. “It is a genuine question and seeing as how Taron wore some, he has experience in this area.”

Robyn turned to look at Taron and he had one of those little cute half smiles on his face. “You do not have to answer that.”

“Not the way you thought this was going to go, huh chicken”? He asked her his eyes dancing with delight as he took in her angry stare at her friend.

“Chicken?” Claire’s voice took Robyn’s attention away from Shane and to her. “He just called you chicken. Why has he just called you chicken?”

“Ugh, I bloody hate you all.” Robyn threw her body back into her chair and crossed her arms over her chest, a sulk on her face and pout on her lips.

Taron couldn’t help but laugh at her. He couldn’t have adored Robyn more in that moment and if her friends hadn’t of been around, he absolutely would have tried to poke the pout from her lips but as she was already embarrassed, he shuffled a little closer to her and swung his arm around her chair again, placing a light kiss on her head instead, ignoring the stares he could feel from her friends. Both himself and Robyn had expected the same taunts and heckling he had gotten from his friends but so far it had been the complete opposite and his normally composed Robyn was infuriated with her friends and he was kind of really enjoying the little tantrum she was pulling, something he rarely saw from her.

Still grinning he turned back to Shane. “I honestly can say that no, they didn’t and I am assuming that is either down to the massive size of my arse or the wonderful abilities of the costume designer.”

“Well that is all I wanted to know.” Replied Shane.

Taron nodded. “However, I will stick to my trusty boxers though but give them a go Shane. You might like them.” He watched as the married couple looked to each and winked and Taron turned his attention back to Robyn. “Smile.”

“No.” She answered him.

“Please smile.” He asked again. “Or I will do something drastic to make you smile.”

“No.”

“You are at a table in front of your friends and I will not hesitate at all to tickle you here and now.” He whispered into her hair, pretending he was kissing her head again.

“So…” Robyn sat up on her chair. “How has everyone’s day been.” She saw the beautiful grin on his face from the corner of her eye and allowed a calming deep breath to fill her lungs, the scent of Taron’s aftershave filling her senses as she inhaled, he was still that close to her and it helped to lift her mood immediately.

The table’s conversation was filled with laughter and stories and once Taron and Robyn had again talked through what happened at the 7/11, Robyn’s friends finding it a bit more difficult to hear the story from the man she had saved, the cheeky banter slowed down and the conversation became more about getting to know everyone at the table.

“Does it get draining though?”

“Not so much draining but frustrating.” Claire had asked Taron about his re-shoots and filming the same scene over and over. “You could get it perfect and then the director wants the same scene from a different angle and you could fluff a line or not put the same emotion needed or just not feel as happy as you could be with the performance. I am a perfectionist on set and it works against me sometimes. I can get annoyed very easily with myself if I keep doing it wrong and even more so when I know my mistakes wastes time.”

“Sounds like Robyn.” Said Emma. “Total perfectionist at work, maybe a little bit too much of OCD too.”

“Which came in very handy when we had the inspection last week.” Robyn answered back.

“Well I can’t argue with that. First time I have had an inspection where my staff were complimented.”

“Me too.” Agreed Robyn. “But then I am pretty awesome.” Robyn laughed.

“Fucking awesome.” Corrected Taron, laughing with Robyn at his words.

“Ok share the joke.” Complained Claire.

“Just something one of Taron’s friends said on New Year’s.”

Claire was about to question it again when the microphone screeched a little and their attention was taken by the man standing at the top of the gym. “Beannachtaí Lá Fhéile Padraig!” He said excitedly into the microphone.

“Happy St Patricks Day.” Robyn translated for Taron, grinning as he rolled her eyes at him.

“Kinda figured chicken.” Chuckling as she lightly elbowed him in his ribs.

“So, let me quickly explain how this is going to work. Those of you who have been to one of these before know most dances comprise of four pairs, eight people in total so some of you may need to buddy up with others but it doesn’t mean a group of four can’t figure it out too. I don’t know if you have noticed that your tables have numbers on the them and they correspond to your place on the floor. To help keep everyone in place, we have also put some footprints on the floor too so you can make sure to stand on your footprints, just so we don’t have groups dancing on top of each other. You can come and go as your please but we just ask that you wait until one dance is finished before you come and go, just to keep some sort of order on the floor. I am obliged to show you the fire exits. The way you all came in, three along the wall behind me and three on the opposite side. We will begin very soon and all that is left for me to say is bain sult as duit féin agus ná bíodh imní ort faoi na céimeanna a fháil mícheart. Tá sé ach beagán spraoi agus beidh an craic againn.”

A cheer went up and although Taron clapped along he turned to Robyn with a look that just screamed help.

“Robyn?”

“He said ‘Enjoy yourself and don't be worrying about getting the steps wrong. It's just a bit of fun and we'll have the craic’.”

“Thank you. So, everyone understood that accept me.” He looked around the table at the blank faces.

“What did he say?” Asked Shane.

Robyn quickly repeated the English translation for everyone else at the table. “Not everyone speaks Irish or understands it. Maybe a few words here or there.”

“Hadn’t a clue.” Agreed Shane. “You English taking our native language.” He smirked toward Taron.

“And Taron is Welsh Shane, not English.” She patted Taron’s knee, reassuring him after Shane’s words. “And some of us paid attention in Irish class in school.”

“Wasn’t for me.”

“No but the teacher was! I am surprised you didn’t actually grasp the concept of the language.”

“It wasn’t the language I wanted to grasp!” Shane winked, earning a dig from his husband but he appeased him with a quick kiss to his lips.

Taron laughed and then smiled before looking away from the little intimate moment between the two and he turned his attention back to Robyn.

She noticed the change in direction of his body and turned to him. “So, you ready for a dance?”

“Well to fully embrace my Irishness, yes and I apologise now if I stand on your foot.”

“Well you didn’t in Aber so I think I can trust you.”

“Please remember you said that at the end of the evening.”

Within the next ten minutes a slight buzz of excitement filled the air as the Irish music stopped and the group of people in charge of the céilí were getting set up around the gym, making sure they each knew which section of the floor was theirs so they could teach the dances to the groups, helping each group as they got into the literal swing of things.

“Ok and we are ready to go! So, if you want to make you way up to your number, we can get you all started.”

Robyn looked around the tables as no one moved. She looked to Taron and tilted her head towards the floor and he immediately stood up and taking her hand skipped with her to the dance floor in the middle of the tables, Robyn giggling at his actions as he found their table number on the floor and stood directly on it.

“And thank you so much Miss Quinn!” Robyn made a fake curtesy to the MC. “And your partner.”

“Dean!” Robyn grinned. “This is Dean!”

Taron looked to Robyn and could only smile at her grin on her face and then back to MC smiling. “Yep that’s me Dean.” He turned back to Robyn. “Seriously. Is there one person in this town who does not know who you are!” He laughed as she pulled a face at him but was distracted from returning his own, when Shane and Darragh stood beside them.

“We’re here too! Ready to Riverdance our hearts out and give Michael Flatley a run for his money.”

The four broke out in laughter and once the other tables saw Robyn, Taron, Shane and Darragh get up first to the floor, they slowly filtered their way up and took their places on the dance floor, the rest of Robyn’s friends joining them.

“So, we’re sticking with Dean huh?” Taron asked he stood beside her with Shane and Darragh opposite them in a square shape, the other four from their table behind them in the same square formation.

“Seems to working for you today.” She replied to him.

They were been given a very quick walk through demonstration of the first dance of the evening, The Walls of Limerick.

“Do you know this dance?” Taron asked her.

“This is the only one I would know. We did this in school as kids.” She told him as the music started.

“Ok well I am counting on you then to get these one two threes right.”

Robyn laughed and gave his hand a squeeze. “I think I might enjoy this more than you rocketman.”

The helpers counted everyone in and the dance started. Robyn knew Taron would have no trouble with getting the basic one two three of the Irish dancing step or keeping in time as with his musical ability, keeping rhythm and time came so natural to him but it was more making sure they went in the right direction and she almost convulsed with giggles as he crashed into her as she went to the left while he went to her right and he had to catch her, lifting her in the right direction before he set her down again.

“Stop laughing Robyn!” He muttered as they danced forwards and backwards again but she just made a face with him as she swapped places diagonally with Darragh opposite her before Shane switched with Taron and holding each other’s hands they spun around in circles.

They stood on the outer square while Emma, Tommy, Claire and Nick had their turn with the dance and Robyn was still giggling away.

“Best night ever!” She laughed. “Oh, I wish I could have videos of these dances!”

“I will get the hang of it!” Taron insisted as he concentrated on watching the dance play out in front of him again. “Not all of us have Irish dancing in our blood or did it as a kid.”

It was a pure look of concentration Robyn had never seen on Taron’s face before and he held her hand firmly when he needed too and made sure his direction was perfect the second time and as he spun Robyn around and back to their place giving the other four their chance to have their turn he did an extra little step, delighted with himself he got it perfect.

“Told you!” He grinned.

“You are a quick learner but I already knew that.”

Once each set of four had danced the set twice more the music ended and a huge roar and applause went up in the gym, Taron clapping enthusiastically with everyone else.

“Oh, Robyn this is just the best Irish thing ever. I am so glad I could come over. I desperately needed something like this to just shake all my stress and anxiety off. Thank you so much.” He gave her a sideways hug and she grinned at Claire who made kissy faces at her, Robyn returning her own to her friend as she stood close with Nick.

The next dance in the set was called The Siege of Ennis and instead of two groups of four, involved all eight, two lines of four standing opposite each other. Every group was given another brief walk through of the dance and it carried the same basic steps as the other, criss crosses, spins and even a bridge of arms. They started off great, but soon the four pairs became a tangle of arms, wrong directions and mountain of giggles and laughter, having to go back to the footsteps on the ground waiting so they could start again. On the second try and with some guidance from one of the helpers, they got through one round of the dance and needed no help for their third and fourth round.

Robyn could see that Taron was thoroughly enjoying himself and his whole demeanour had flipped from that morning, a ridiculously honest smile on his face. She was so delighted that the day had turned positive for him, hating it when he was down over his work though she was still slightly concerned about his upcoming job knowing how he was going to have to dig really deep for the emotion needed for the character he was playing, the reality of the story of an abused son making Taron want to put everything he had into it. Shaking her head, Robyn brought herself back to the present and looked to him as he happily chatted with Emma and her husband and Nick, while herself, Claire and the other married couple stood talking to each other a few footsteps down as they waited for the next dance to begin.

“You can bring him to visit us any time Robyn.” Smiled Shane. “He is a darling and dotes on you something shocking.”

“He does not.”

“Listen here Robyn Quinn, that boy is head over heels in love with you and you may not have noticed the little touches he gives you, like a hand on your shoulder or around your waist but I have and my God I am so jealous of it all.”

“I think you are going to be divorced by the end of today.” Darragh grinned to his husband. “But Shane is right.”

Robyn rolled her eyes at her friends. “We are…”

“Just friends.” They all said together, Robyn frowning at them.

“Does he have to have such a perfect side profile.” Sighed Shane.

“So, I am going to take my husband outside for some air. We will be back.” Darragh placed his hands on Shanes shoulders and guided him out of the hall, Claire and Robyn laughing.

“They are going to do what you and Taron need to be doing.”

“And you and Nick.” Robyn countered. “Which by the way, the spins are not hip to hip spins but hand to hand spins.” She grinned.

“They never specified that in the instructions.” Laughed Claire and she glanced at Nick who was a in fully animated conversation with Taron. “I just want to kiss him.” Claire sighed.

“Then go and kiss him.” Suggested Robyn. “I really don’t think he will mind. He was asking where you were earlier during the choir’s gig.”

“I was watching from afar.”

Robyn watched the hopeless look on her friend’s face. “Claire please just go and talk to him, ask him out! Kiss the man! I absolutely guarantee you that it will be a very positive result and a yes to going for a drink. He is such a wonderful person.”

“So is Taron.”

“We are talking about you and Nick, not me and Taron.”

“You go and kiss Taron and I will kiss Nick.”

Robyn looked to Claire as she gave her the ultimatum and could see the seriousness in her face. “Really?” She asked tilting her head.

“You go and kiss Taron right now before the next dance starts and I will go and kiss Nick.”

“A kiss. Sure, no problem.”

“And not just a kiss on the cheek Robyn. A proper kiss on his lips.”

“Well the same goes for you too.” She watched as Claire’s face faltered a little. “You are going to give out such demands you need to follow through with them on your part.”

“I will.”

Robyn held out her hand and Claire gripped it tight, both girls adding their second hand. It was a well-used promise handshake they had created when making a deal with each other when they kids and had become their tradition as they grew up and once the handshake was made, the deal had to be followed through with or else face a forfeit of the others choosing. Handshake given and promise assured, Robyn grinned to her friend and saluted her. She turned away and prayed no one could see her heart beating wildly in her chest. She only agreed to go through with this stupid plan because she knew Nick was desperate to ask Claire out but both her friends were so hesitant to make a move so if a little kiss from Taron, something she had with him before, would sort them out, she was very willing to do it and not just because she wanted to kiss him. Again. She just wanted to help her best friend. That was what she told herself anyway.

Taron was standing still talking to Nick, Emma and Tommy, a beautiful but tired smile on his face and he was talking with his hands, still about music, specifically the music of Elton John and Robyn knew he was in his element at the moment. His cheeks were a little red from the slight heat in the gym and the two dances they had just danced and he had opened all the buttons of his check shirt, the material now hanging loosely against his body and she was suddenly regretting her quick and sudden deal with Claire, realising she hadn’t actually thought this through properly. Claire would not be happy with a simple peck on his lips, the deal requiring much more and her hands started to shake as she strolled toward the little group. She wished she hadn’t been so rash with her plan to get Nick and Claire together. Her heart was hammering and she could feel her stomach swirling in knots, her hands shaking a lot more and all she could think of was how handsome and gorgeous he looked just causally standing there talking to her friends. He had been such a gent and so wonderful with her friends, getting to know them, willingly sharing stories of his life with them and he was just happy. Pure happiness radiated from every inch of him and it was how she liked seeing him best however now as she walked towards him, she never even considered her end of the deal with Claire and how a kiss with Taron was going to affect her or him and it was suddenly a very bad idea.

“Hey Robyn.” He said giving her one of his trademark grins that spread over his face. “I was filling Nick in on our sing song with Elton.”

A very bad idea but with her head held high she walked right up to him. “You trust me, right?” She simply said.

“Of course. Always.”

“Ok well then trust when I say this is for the greater good in the long run.”

She took one long breath, her lungs filled with a mixture of humid air in the gym and that wonderful aftershave he always wore and it made her a little dizzy but she couldn’t back out and stepped right up to him, taking in his now slightly amused face, his stunning eyes, a light brown colour even in the green glow of the gym, opening wide and searching hers as he looked down to her, his forehead creasing as he raised his eyebrows in an almost question as to what she was up too. She heard and felt the hitch of breath he took as she pressed her body up against his and with her hands going to the back of his neck, lifted her head so she could reach his lips with hers and with perhaps a little more weight at first then she meant to, pressed her lips against his, then keeping them soft and light, Taron immediately tilting his head so their noses didn’t bump, his hands going to her waist pulling her right against him.

He knew what was coming before it happened, the determination in which Robyn walked towards him and the way she looked at him told him what she was going to do, her words of ‘you trust me’ making it so obvious what was going to happen but it did not mean he was prepared in any shape of form for the force at which she kissed him. Robyn stalled against him, her lips just resting against his, not moving at all and it took every part of him not to run away with the kiss. Feeling her silky lips against his caused a rush of electricity through his whole body and he parted his lips a little so her bottom lip slipped in-between his and he did his best to hold in the moan he was so desperate to let go from his body as he gently started to create the tiniest motion of friction so their lips finally moved against each other’s. His head was spinning and he knew if he dared to open his eyes, the room would be twirling around him so instead his closed his eyes tighter and pressed his mouth a little harder against Robyn’s knowing well that her lipstick had already transferred to his lips and not caring that his fingers dug into waist for a mili-second before he brought his hands up to her face. His hands cradled her neck, his thumbs at the edge of her face in front of her ears, giving him an almost better grip on her so he could hold her face in place as he moved his lips more against hers and taking the lead, he dared to move the slightest half inch away from her, her bottom lip falling from his, before he went back in immediately for a second kiss, not even taking a breath into his lungs for fear that if he waited too long he wouldn’t get a second kiss and it was also desperation that spurred him on not knowing if and when he would ever get a kiss like this with her again.

As Taron’s nose brushed against hers once more as he moved his head to tilt his face in the opposite direction, Robyn copied his hand position and moved her hands, pulling his face closer to hers as she felt him pull away, Robyn now taking control of the kiss back, gliding her lips over his before she stood right on her toes so she could capture his top lip between hers, increasing the tight hold on his face and the pressure at which she was kissing him, drawing his lips into hers. The scratch of his facial hair felt so satisfying on her skin and as he parted his lips once more, she let his wonderful damp and velvety lips take over their kiss, Robyn pressing her body further into his, the heat from him only increasing the building temperature between them. Robyn could feel his hands holding her face a little harder than he normally would and his nose swept hers once more as he changed his head’s position again. The way he moved his lips so nimbly against hers, made kissing him effortless and Robyn was very quickly finding it so difficult to keep her restraint and she had to make herself stop kissing him knowing the forth head tilt from Taron was a sign it was long enough but she needed to get one last kiss in and as she pulled away from him went back in to have one more light feather peck, a silent sigh leaving her body as her forehead rested on his, her hands still on his face. Taron leaned in to steal one last and final kiss from her, his lips in a full grin as his slightly wet and parted lips met hers and she could feel the smile on his lips and she knew she had the exact same one on hers.

“Jesus fucking Christ in heaven! What was that!”

Taron and Robyn, whose bodies were still locked together, turned their heads to see Shane and Darragh staring at them, Shane’s eyes open wide, his hands on his cheeks too. Robyn didn’t give him an answer but turned around to stand in front of Taron and looked to Claire with a smirk.

“You’re turn.” She simply said to her friend, her hands reaching for Taron’s which were now around her waist and she was so glad he had a tight hold of her because her legs were like jelly, her head was spinning and her lips were on fire and the heat from Taron’s body felt glorious agasint hers.

Claire was mortified, not believing Robyn would even dare to kiss Taron in such a way, thinking she was going to chicken out but she didn’t. In fact, Robyn had gone above and beyond and shared a kiss with Taron that was extremely intimate, quite thorough and as she witnessed it, could firmly say it was definitely heated. Claire had been by Robyn’s side as she fell madly in love with Keith but had never seen her best friend share a kiss like the one she had just shared with Taron with Keith and it wasn’t even a kiss of a couple in love, well love that had been admitted to each other. It was just two friends kissing but it was so much more when watched from the outside. They their hands rested perfectly on each other’s cheeks and they just knew how to position their heads so they didn’t bump noses and it had the perfect amount of everything a kiss needed and as Claire stood with her mouth open as she witnessed their kiss, their first proper kiss, she was stunned. It was near perfect. She hadn’t missed that at one point Taron took the lead with the kiss, seeing how much he wanted to kiss Robyn so much more than he was letting on and it made her a little sad to know that Robyn wanted it as much as he did and the two were just holding back so much.

However, now that Robyn had fulfilled her end of the deal it was her turn and she was stood frozen on the spot. Robyn was always a little braver than she was, especially over the last three years and although she had doubted that Robyn would follow through with the kiss, her best friend had gone and kissed Taron hard and without a doubt Claire knew she now had no choice but to kiss Nick, the man she had been crushing on for at least four years.

“Claire.” Asked Robyn looking to her friend, who hadn’t moved for a few seconds, motioning with her eyebrows for her to go over to Nick.

“Nick you want to help a girl out here?” Robyn was surprised to hear Taron speak and even more shocked when Nick walked past them, over to Claire and placing his two hands on her cheeks, kissed her, a lot more deeply then Robyn and Taron kissed and a few wolf whistles went up around them.

“Will someone please tell me what is going on and why everyone is kissing everyone else and why I am not getting kissed by anybody!”

Robyn felt Taron’s chest move with his laughter and closed her eyes as he threw his arms around her shoulders and hugged her against him. “You are in trouble Miss Quinn.” He whispered to her, his breathe hot against her cheek. “And have a lot of explaining to do.”

She gave his hands a squeeze and felt the deep breath he took, taking one of her own and turned to face him, not missing the flush on his face or how his eyes were now a swirling mix of brown and green.

“What it with all the kissing!” Shane asked again, clear frustration in his voice.

“Want to go outside?” Robyn asked him. “Before the next dance starts?”

“Please.”

Without a word to those around her, Robyn lifted Taron’s arms from around her shoulder and over her head, keeping a grip on his hand and started to lead him off the dance floor. As they walked, she could hear Shane complaining again and as she walked past Claire, she gave her a little push with her left hand, breaking the kiss between herself and Nick, winking at her. “Not that hard was it?” She said as she walked past them, still keeping a tight grip on Taron’s hand.

She guided him out the front door of the club house and to the left walking down the footpath a little and to a little corner she knew of where they could talk.

“So, Robyn what is with all the kissing?” Taron asked her as he leant against the brick wall behind him, his arms crossing over his chest. “Not that I am complaining, just to put that out there.” He added, hoping that his face had cooled down a little, though his cheeks still felt incredibly hot and even the chill in the late-night air wasn’t helping to cool his overheated body down. He could still feel Robyn pressed up right against his body and he had hugged Robyn so many times before, tight gripping hugs where she was properly squished against him but when their touching bodies were from the result of a kiss, it was a completely different feeling all together. “Sometimes a man needs a bit of warning before he is assaulted with kisses.” He gave her a little half smirk, keeping his arms folded against his chest, resisting the urge to touch his lips, instead rubbing them together and licking what he knew was her lipstick from them, that cosmetic taste in his mouth a little reminder that once again Robyn had kissed him and not just a little kiss, a proper full on, lip sucking kiss and it was glorious and he saw a few fireworks set off behind his closed eyes.

“You never warned me outside the lift.”

He grinned at her response. “Robyn, I kissed your neck. You fully planted one on my lips and in front of your friends and it was more than just a little kiss. Honestly, I thought you were going to slip me some tongue at one point.”

“Ugh eww Taron no!” Robyn turned away from him and squeezed her eyes shut biting her bottom lip before she turned back and prayed her face was calm and composed. “Just no. You are my friend.”

“Hmm.” He hummed. “So chicken, care to explain what that was all about? I am guessing something to do with Claire, maybe a bet of some sorts? She looked mortified. What did you two agree too.”

“I am really sorry Taron, about the kiss.” Robyn stepped a little closer to him and leaned opposite him against the wall.

“I didn’t ask you if you were sorry. You don’t have to apologise to me over it. You did ask me first in a way.”

“I asked you if you trust me.”

“And I do.” He assured you. “And you know I do, with my life.” He waited for Robyn to start with an explanation but she was staying silent. “Come on Robyn. Spill or I am ringing Diean right now to tell him about our kiss. He has been bugging me about the New Year’s Eve kiss constantly so I know he will love this one!” Taron pulled his phone from his jeans pocket but Robyn quickly snatched it from his hands.

“I did do it for Claire.” She started to explain quickly, still holding Taron’s phone, her eyes glancing down very quickly as his screen lit up as she accidently swiped his phone, a new picture of the two of them on his screen, one from New Year’s Eve they had taken on the beach before they went to her home. “I hadn’t actually planned just to land a kiss on you like that, I promise. She is so desperately in love with Nick and has been since he joined the choir four years ago and you know we had this match making plan and I know Nick has been fawning over Claire since I introduced the two of them after a gig we did. So, we were having our girl talk…”

“I am going to ban girl talk.” Interrupted Taron. “Bane of my life. Even Rosie and Mari have their girl talk now. No boys allowed!” He complained.

Ignoring him, Robyn continued. “Well during our girl talk, Claire told me that I wouldn’t kiss you and I replied to her with the oh so mature answer of well you won’t kiss Nick and I was like sure I would kiss you if she kissed Nick and she was like well if you kiss Taron I will kiss Nick and then she made the deal tougher by saying that it couldn’t be a kiss on his cheek, as in your cheek, it had to be on the lips and I was like well if I do this, knowing and hoping you wouldn’t mind, I mean we have kissed before, Claire would have to follow through and kiss Nick and like I said, I already know that Nick has a thing for Claire and Claire is like a love sick puppy when she sees Nick even if she won’t admit to it and then we agreed and shook on it using our special handshake which we cannot go back on so I had to go first and kiss you and then we kissed and I was like go on Claire and she stalled and looked at me as if she had seen a ghost and I mean I had just kissed you so she had to follow through with our deal and she just stood there with a blank face, and then you spoke to Nick and he just went and kissed her instead and hey how did you get Nick to do that so quick with just some words and he went straight in for a kiss but Claire totally broke our deal she needs to do the forfeit but I mean…”

Taron watched as Robyn started to talk fast and her words jumbled together as she moved away from the wall, still with his phone and placed back and forth in front of him her hands moving as she spoke and as she rambled on, Taron was grinning from ear to ear. Sure the kiss played complete havoc with his emotions and he was still light headed and buzzing from the feeling of kissing her but he did not regret it at all or how he kissed her back and as he stood away from the wall he automatically found himself biting his lip, still feeling Robyn’s against him and he chuckled as Robyn began to speak even faster. She always spoke fast, her words almost blurring together even more so when she was excited or as he found out the hard way, angry and she was doing it right now, almost without taking a breath. He stepped in front of her, stopping her mid-stride and without a second thought, he reached forward and put his hand over her mouth to stop her which she did but he pulled his hand away quickly as she licked him.

“Don’t lick people.” He grinned. “And like I said, you don’t have to apologise to me. You asked me if I trusted you and I said yes and I do and when you were at the bar with Claire, Nick and I were getting to know each other. He let it slip that he was very happy you asked him to come along as he has the biggest crush on Claire. I did a little match making of my own and told him he should tell her but he wasn’t really feeling brave enough too. After you kissed me and egged Claire on, I put two and two together and thankfully Nick took the hint and the first step and went to kiss her.”

“You little sneaky rocketman. Hatching plans of your own.”

“Except Nick and I did not have a handshake to seal the deal.”

“I am going to make Claire pay for not stepping up.”

Taron grinned. “I think she will give you whatever you want after that kiss she had with Nick.”

“Finally.” Smiled Robyn. “Those two has been making googly eyes at each other for years.” Robyn looked down to her hands as she accidently swiped his phone again and she saw their picture. “I am sorry for just kissing you like that Taron.”

“It’s ok. I think I can forgive you when you ramble on nervously like that and if we got Claire and Nick together, than mission accomplished.”

“Taron…”

“Honestly, it is ok.” He stepped closer to her and held his arms out for a hug, which she walked into. “Don’t over think it ok. I know what you are like. It was just a kiss.”

“Just a kiss.” Repeated Robyn into his shoulder but it was so much more than just a kiss and as she started to re-live that wonderfully delicate and smooth kiss, his phone rang in her hands, ending the short hug between then. “It’s your mam.” She said to him, looking at the name on the screen.

He smiled and took the phone from her and answered it with a light cheery tone. “Hey mam!”

“Hello love! I just wanted to check in with you before your night became too Irish and you would forget to call your mother back.” Hearing Tina’s words, Robyn laughed. When Tina heard the laughter, she knew Taron was with his reason for his visit to Ireland. “Hello Robyn.”

“Hey Tina!” Robyn said loudly so she could hear him.

“Hi Robyn!”

She laughed as she heard Rosie and Mari too. “Hello girls.” Robyn looked to Taron. “I will leave you to it.”

“You don’t have too and you know the girls want to talk to you. Always want to talk to you.”

Robyn grinned. “And you know I adore them but your mother wants to talk to you.”

“And you want to talk to Claire.” He returned.

“Oh my God I do.”

“So, more girl talk.” He rolled his eyes. “Go, I will follow you.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Sort out that forfeit too.”

“I will.”

Robyn turned on her heels and walked away from Taron, hearing him pick up the call as she headed back for the door, inhaling the cool fresh air was she walked. Her head was still very fuzzy and not only from the specular kiss but also from Taron’s reaction. He was so calm and acceptive of what she had done to him, literally done to him and he was his usual wonderful self and she was so confused by it all. She was expecting at least a tiny bit of backlash from what she had done but there was none. He was completely understanding and had even said he couldn’t complain about what she had done and as she pulled open the door of the GAA club she took a glance back to him. He was laughing and smiling and not for the first time her stomach dropped to her toes. Whatever doubts she had before about being in love with Taron had been well and truly squashed. She, Robyn Quinn, without a doubt was head over heels in love with the man that was Taron Egerton.

#Taron Egerton #Taron Egerton Fanfiction #Taron Egerton Fanfic #Taron Fanfic #Love #Friendship #Céilí #St Patricks Day #Dancing #Kissing #Bets #Trust #Couples #Emotions #Robyn and Taron #Matters of the Heart

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cyrah-is-cool101 · 2 years ago

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The Adventures of Ocean Breeze #3 (Part 2): The Rogues Gallery

Introducing the secondary villains of Ocean Breeze's Rogues Gallery, Part 2!

6. Lucky March Hare

Character Inspiration:

Mad Hatter (DC/Batman) and Aran Ryan (Punch Out!)

Name: Lucky March Hare

Real Name: Cillian O'Sullivan

Age: 28

Personality: Love sick, delusional, feral, intelligent, masochistic, insane

Relationships: Ocean Breeze (Enemy/His 'Alice')

Residence: Fairytale Land Amusement Park

Powers/Abilities/Weapon/s of Choice: Mind control bow (see picture above), Dagger

Gun

Bio:

Cillian O'Sullivan, an Irish research scientist who was smitten with the works of Lewis Carrol, becoming Lucky March Hare. As his criminal name indicates, he takes the appearance of the March Hare from Alice's Adventures in Wonderland. He is an insane and masochistic neuroscientist, developed a special bow tie that can control the brain and induce a hypnotic state. Hare (a nickname by Ocean) is always for girls who remind him as the protagonist of Lewis Carrol, Alice, especially Ocean because of her ocean blue eyes. Hare is also a bit of an alcoholic and carries lucky charms to bring him luck/fashioning them as weapons.

7. Tidal Wave

Character Inspiration:

Liquidator (Darkwing Duck)

Name: Tidal Wave

Real Name: Randy Binks

Age: 25

Personality: Short-tempered, impatient, considerate (sometimes)

Relationships: Ocean Breeze (Enemy/Rival), His manager (Mentor)

Residence: 43 Jade Boulevard

Powers/Abilities/Weapon/s of Choice: Water Powers

Bio:

Randy Binks was another water user like Pearl but he was the descendant of Polaris, Neptune's step brother. Randy was a professional boxer who is trying his best to win the top of being the champion but he found out his manager was in debt of money with the Saichi Group, a Yakuza group similar to the Osamu Clan, however they're notorious for their drug smuggling rings. Randy tried to defend his manager but he was then tied up and thrown into the bay, that's when he discover his water powers, becoming Ocean's male doppelganger, Tidal Wave. Tidal Wave has similar powers like Ocean Breeze but they both have different auras: Ocean is sky blue and Tidal's has dark blue. Tidal Wave is hellbent on revenge of the Saichi Group and swore he will eliminate all of them.

8. Sweet Queen Candy

Character Inspiration:

Baroness Von Bon Bon (Cuphead)

Name: Sweet Queen Candy

Real Name: Mandy Sweet (Name inspired by Coach Candy Sweet from Totally Spies)

Age: 26

Relationships: Pink Cupid (Ally), Dan Despicable (Ally), Ocean Breeze (Enemy)

Personality: Overall sweet, crazy, psychotic, snobbish

Residence: Candyland Factory

Powers/Abilities/Weapon/s of Choice: Glycopoeia, the power to transform matter into candy/sweets, Whip (see picture above), Candy Gun

Bio:

Mandy Sweet is the owner of Candyland Factory and has a bit of a sweet tooth. One day, she was inspecting the vats of bubblegum but then, she accidentally tripped into the vat of bubblegum, that turns her skin pink and lost her mind, turning into Sweet Queen Candy. Queen Candy (as she likes to call herself) has the power to turn anything into candy but not humans though only physical objects and she also has a whip and a candy gun that shoots gumballs instead of bullets. Queen Candy is snobby, crazy and particularly hates anything fatty or greasy, especially fast food. Ocean thought her sugar craze was a bit, no too much to be addicting that her health might be in danger, unfortunately Queen Candy didn't care.

9. Agent Silver X

Character Inspiration:

Steelbeak (Darkwing Duck)

Name: Agent Silver X

Real Name: Gideon Griffon

Age: ?? (Probably Early 20s)

Personality: Suave, chauvinist, cocky

Residence: Unknown

Powers/Abilities/Weapon/s of Choice: Martian arts, Gun

Grappling hook

Bio:

Gideon Griffon, better known as Agent Silver X, is an espionage agent/assassin that works under the notorious crime family, the Connellys. Agent Silver X is handsome, dashing and a male chauvinist, who thinks Ocean Breeze does not have guts to be responsible as a hero but Ocean responds to it was punching his lights out. Silver X has different gadgets and weapons to fulfill his crime missions.

10. Scorpio

Character Inspiration:

Red Scorpion (Kaitou Joker)

Name: Scorpion

Real Name: Samar Patel

Age: ?? (Around 20's)

Personality: Quiet, brutal, tricky (sometimes)

Relationships: N/A

Residence: Unknown

Powers/Abilities/Weapon/s of Choice: Black magic, Dagger

Knives

Needles

Bio:

An Indian man born with dark magic, Samar Patel, aka Scorpio, is quick but deadly with knives and needles filled with poison that will make you unconscious or sleepy. Scorpio is fast but he's always too quick to think, jumping into the wrong conclusions and is always clumsy when his feet are light for the ground. Ocean sometimes calls him 'Speedy' due to his speed and agility, which vert much annoys Scorpio, who thought Ocean was too patient with her actions and strategies but Ocean always proves him wrong.

#the adventures of ocean breeze #rogues gallery

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himbowelsh · 4 years ago

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Hello ^^ For the intimacy prompts, mortar trio (friendship) and 30 (doing beauty treatments, like facials or manicures, hair dying or face masks) if that inspires you, please ? Thank you!!!

( intimacy prompts : accepting )

since i always love a challenge, i went for some non-descript post-war, canon-era au with this. it... led down some exciting rabbit holes. did you know “girlie shows” were actually a thing in the service? there’s footage of it, those gi’s could make trixie mattel cry

“No, no, you gotta hold still — I know I’m doing this right, Faye’s the one who showed me, now quit whining about it —“

“It’s cold!”

“No kidding, genius, it’s called cold cream!”

“They don’t gotta be so honest about it!”

“For god’s sake, Don.” Skip heaves a sigh so massive that his body moves with it. He’s still got a glob of lotion in his palm; it glistens in the light, so white that it’s practically incandescent. Nothing actually good for you should be that shiny. Alex doesn’t trust it.

“Why does it have to go on my face?” Don demands, reaching up to touch some of the mess already smeared across his cheeks. Skip bats his hand away, looking affronted.

“You have to let it settle! Christ, I already explained this — it seeps into your pores, see, and moisturizes. Gives you a nice glow. Faye swears by the stuff, I’m telling you, so let it do it’s work.”

Alex tries to picture Malarkey glowing; the image is one that won’t leave his mind for a long, long time. He slumps forward in an abrupt fit of laughter, and a glob of oatmeal falls into his lap.

“See,” says Don, as Alex only laughs harder. “I told you the oatmeal mask wasn’t gonna work.”

“Yeah, I figured that,” replies Skip. “Just wanted to see if he’d really let me do it.”

Alex stops laughing.

When he looks up, both Skip and Don are watching him, twin smiles on their lips. The gleams of amusement in their eyes are even identical — Christ, sometimes it seems like those two were meant to be brothers, and God just got mixed up somewhere on the production line. Shipped one to one to Oregon and one to New York, just trusting they’d find their way back to each other from there. It’s ridiculous, and we’re Alex not too used to his best friends by now, he’d be disturbed. Instead, he just glowers at them both, and is unsurprised when Skip can’t help breaking into a grin.

“Does any of this stuff actually do anything?” he demands, scraping a patch of gooey oatmeal off his cheek.

“Sure. The foot scrub works wonders, I use it all the time — and the hot towels? Believe me, you don’t know how much you need ‘em until they’ve done their magic on your muscles. Just give it some time.” Skip considers the rest of his arsenal carefully, like the king’s chief torturer deciding which tool to use next. “Hmm, ehhh, uhhhghhh… how d’you boys feel about cucumber masks?”

“Threatened,” says Alex.

“Aroused,” says Don.

“Yeah, what is it with you and these masks? Is it some kinda kink?”

“It’s gotta be a kink,” Don agrees, and slaps his thigh. “See, if I’d known that, I’d have taken you to the Halloween store ages ago!”

“The way he’s going about it, you’d have better luck at the farmer’s market.”

Skip throws a cucumber at them.

“Yeah, crazy about these cucumber masks already!” Alex calls, as Don appraises the projectile which just smacked him in the chest. He polishes it with his sleeve, breathes on it, then takes a bite. Skin and all. As he’s chomping down on the offending fruit, he makes a face, like it’s just occurred to him there’s a right way and a wrong way to eat cucumbers. He gags on a piece of skin.

Skip, with admirable self-restraint, doesn’t unleash any more flying fruit upon them. Instead he shuffles around in Faye’s --- lended, with impressive and undeserved trust --- beauty kit, before emerging with something that makes his eyes light up. “Alright, here we go!” he declares, victorious, and raises high a bottle of ---

“God damn it, Muck!” Alex exclaims, ducking behind Don, who has neither a place to hide or a weapon to fight Skip off as he approaches. “This is where I draw the line! Away! Keep away with that --- christ, is that women’s hairspray?”

“‘Women’s’ is very subjective, Penk. Hairspray isn’t restricted by gender. Technically nothing is, if you want to take a hard look at it, there’s nothing stopping a man from going out in a dress if he wanted to ---”

They all saw the occasional “Girlie Shows” put on by talent on base: GIs dolled up in lipstick and nylons, dancing for an audience’s uproarious pleasure. Still, Alex wouldn’t do it in public, if only because --- well, he knows for a fact his legs would look downright frightening in a skirt. He doesn’t have the ankles for heels.

Don smiles, looking like he’s biting back a much larger grin. “We support you in anything you wanna explore, Skipper...” Or else neither of them would be going through this now. “Including your obsession with your hair ---”

“It’s not an obsession, I want it to look nice! You have to get the flip just right, and make it look casual ---”

“Have you used hairspray before?” Alex demands. Skip squirms as they both fix him with piercing stares.

“What, am I on the spot now? Come on, I’ve --- I’ve seen Faye use it before, it’s really not that complicated.”

“We look like guinea pigs to you?” Alex springs out of his chair, sending the hot towel on his chest flying --- and damn, his core really does feel looser. That’s as far as Skip’s experiments need to go, though. “Use it on yourself first and tell us how it goes!”

Skip turns a beseeching gaze to Don. Sure, Don Malarkey may be a nice guy, but he’s not that nice. “It might turn my hair green or something,” he replies, raising a protective hand to his head. “No thanks.”

“It’s not --- for the love of --- you’re already Irish, Don, I doubt anyone would notice!”

“Call us back around St. Patrick’s Day!” Alex seizes Don’s arm, tugging him upright. He actually looks a little disappointed to have his honey foot scrub disrupted, but stumbles out of the bucket of warm water when Alex pulls him. Towels over their shoulders, barefoot and in boxers, both men scramble for the door.

“See ya, Skip, it’s been a riot!”

“I was about to riot if he sprayed that stuff near my head,” Alex mutters, escaping into the night.

Left standing in his living room, surrounded by half-baked beauty regimes, Skip spreads his arms wide. “You’ll be thanking me later,” he calls after them as the door slams shut. “You’ll be glowing! Glowing, I tell you!”

It’s called radioactivity, and given the choice, Alex would rather pass.

#lyselkatz #trusting the actual ask format again... with very little optimism #anyways enjoy!! this was super fun to write!!#skip muck #alex penkala #don malarkey #my writing #wow imagine an au where the whole gang survived and skip gets to shoehorn his buddies into antics!! and try real hard not to cry

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dani-camp · 4 years ago

Note

“ it was nice to hear your voice again . ”

new york, new york 1924

when delaney o’neill and jackson collins first laid eyes on each other, laney smelled of chanel no. 5 and wore a cocktail dress of the deepest red. jackson sported a shirt collar flecked with blood and was possibly concussed. they both had a small gathering of people around them at the time, jackson’s mostly consisting of supporters while laney’s mostly consisted of protectors. they both had to be shaken out of their gaze upon one another.

as her father began his tour of the nightclub with the owner, their two bodyguards were forced to separate and in the ensuing chaos of the dancefloor, laney was able to find herself unguarded. she used her few moments of freedom to find him again, sidling up to him just as he’d officially had way too many drinks, enough that he wasn’t even that shy at all, talking to a girl that was so dangerously out of his league. this was further proven as she spoke her name to him and allowed him to press his bruised lips to her knuckles, explaining all of the guards from before. her father was a famous wealthy bootlegger, known for supplying the best irish whiskey in new york city, and in a highly-publicized war with another wealthy bootlegger. what she was doing in a black and tan nightclub unaccompanied on a saturday night, he had no clue. she told him her father was thinking of buying the place from mr. johnson for use as his own personal speakeasy. she wondered why his pretty face was so banged up and also why all of his friends seemed so happy about it. he said it was because he’d been in a fight, a boxing fight, and he’d won and it was supposedly a very big deal in the world of boxing.

she only had enough time to congratulate him and press an air-light kiss to his cheek before her guard was there, pointedly saying that her father needed her right away, and laney let herself be lead away cheerfully. jackson wasn’t sure if it was just because of the head injury or all of the alcohol he’d been drinking, but he couldn’t stop thinking of laney. couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep. he knew he wasn’t supposed to, but that just made him think of her more. he had the strangest feeling that he would just feel better if he could be near her again. laney was the same, but laney was always like this with whatever new boy she’d convinced herself she was in love with. so no one thought much of it.

mercifully, it was only a few weeks later when their paths crossed, at a summer’s end party known to include all of new york city’s biggest celebrities. apparently a bootlegger’s socialite daughter and a rising boxing star counted. they spent the entire party at one another’s sides, their relief at being near each other making them delirious. there were quick declarations, many successful attempts at hiding her from her seeking guard, frenzied kisses in dark corners, and a short blind eye in the newspaper the next morning titled the boxer and the bachelorette documenting it all. thankfully, laney’s father doesn’t bother himself too much with prejudice to deny laney anything she truly wanted, as long as jackson wasn’t a danger to laney. and it was clear jackson was what laney wanted, always wishing she were at his side and on his mind. the question of danger was looming but unknown. laney’s mother talked him into welcoming jackson into their lives, always happy to indulge laney.

the two shared a few months of happiness only occasionally touched with occasional threat to laney and her family’s lives, the ever-so-often news articles implying that laney was somehow less pure because she loved jackson, that jackson must’ve been beating her to make her stay with him. on the contrary, it was laney who talked him out of every doubt, reassuring him that she’d go crazy if she were ever separated from him. when he asked her how long they could possibly last, she only quelled him with irresistible kisses. it was only when someone sent a threatening message to jackson’s aunt and cousins that laney started maybe considering that maybe there perhaps was no future for them after all.

fearing the day they both accepted this, laney began to sneak out to spend her nights with jackson, too. it’s the calmest laney’s ever felt in her life, being as close to him as she possibly could. they thought they’d been careful enough--only sneaking laney in and out of jackson’s apartment in harlem under the cover of night-- but were undeniably not. on that following sunday, there’s a new blind item titled the deflowering of delaney--”hardly a blind item, and what the hell kind of editor let him print this garbage?” exclaimed her father in his brash irish accent.

then laney is really sick one night, feverish and hysterical. the wealthy doctor next door is rushed to her bedside and liam forces jackson out of the sprawling mansion, the guards in the guard towers peering down to make sure he listened. and for the first time, laney began to wish for jackson to leave her side. she says it herself, saying she just needs some time to herself for awhile, but her voice is so heartbroken when she says it. “haven’t you ever noticed that laney sometimes spends all day in bed?” sabrina says, “and then wants everyone to go skinny-dipping the next day? this is just that again.” but he’s not welcome there anymore, he can feel it. somehow they must’ve crossed a line, angered her family beyond repair without knowing it. it’s not helped by the men who start following him around, start threatening to break certain bones if he doesn’t tell them everything he knows about the liquor stores hidden somewhere within the o’neill grounds.

he makes one last bid for her to tell him what’s really going on, because it doesn’t look like being away from him is doing her any good. she only tells him she’s decided that he was right after all, they couldn’t possibly last and he better move on with the rest of his life now. but she’s so pale and so angry when she says it. their break-up takes up half a page on page six, reeking of naked relief at their parting, simply stating that jackson and laney were just two very different people who might fare better if they stuck with people they had more in common with. thankfully, it’s enough to convince the o’neill’s enemies to loosen their grip on his neck, but he could still feel it there.

jackson didn’t sleep for weeks, and laney was never photographed straying from her family’s sprawling grounds. it doesn’t matter, because laney’s father is shot to death in his bed by his rival, the rest of the o’neills held at gunpoint and bound until the rival made a clean escape. laney was sent to a sanitorium before she could attend her father’s funeral, sources citing that she was absolutely beside herself with grief and fear for her life. jackson was there, had sat in the back, and after the proceedings, sabrina confessed that the newspapers didn’t know the whole story, and neither did he. he just needed to trust that laney was more heartbroken than he could possibly know.

jackson stayed away so laney’s heart could mend. she left the sanitorium but still stayed home for awhile, then only emerged with a new man on her arm, a former bodyguard. and maybe it was only cruel wishful thinking, but jackson never saw her photographed smiling or blushing like she had with him once upon a time. he climbed as high as his success could take him, then wrote and published several stories. he’d tried to hide it, but everyone who’d ever met laney and read jackson’s books knew it sang of his yearning for her, the protagonist’s love interests always smelling of chanel no. 5 and wearing red. laney got engaged. jackson received a wedding invitation in the mail, but a few days later, an apologetic laney called to tell him it’d been an accident. well, not an accident, a prank. “i’m sorry, i think he just meant to brag. everyone always brings you up around him, you know.” jackson stutteringly promises to be at her wedding if she wants him to be there. she’s silent for a long time, sharply inhales, and says, “i don’t.” she seems to be in pain when she admits that she has to hang up.

“it was nice to hear your voice again,” jackson politely interjects, still winded from hearing it in the first place. “oh, it was so nice hearing yours, too.”

the newspaper never mentions them again. but that’s just because they’re the most careful they’ve ever been, not even her husband knows. outside of the sex, it’s nothing like it was before. laney never really made more than small talk with him, all tense like she was afraid of saying too much. his story characters began to fall in love with kind of girl she’d been at age nineteen and not as she was at twenty-nine. he admits to her one night, “i think whatever happened between us when we were kids was true love, but i think we missed it. too many things went wrong or too many people were wrong and now it’s gone.” laney began to cry because she agreed. “it hurts too much to be around you and remember it all. but it hurts to be away from you, too, to wonder if you’re okay.” they decide they better do it, so they can heal and be happy with the spouses they’ve got.

the last he hears of her is in the newspaper, in the obituaries, having died in a sweep of tuberculosis just before a vaccine is made ready. he stops writing, drinks o’neill whiskey everyday to honor her.

it still hurts to be away from her.

#adc-writes #this was written under the influence pls forgive me #ask meme #about: jackney

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bing-fucker · 4 years ago

Note

I would kill for female Jackie getting wrecked by Silver

I meant to get around to this request a while ago, but I only did it now. I'm sorry :(

Also! I'm gonna write this as if Jackie was born female and identifies as female, just to avoid the way my mind gets confused with magical shenanigans. She still uses the name Jackie, though, since it's a pretty gender-neutral name.

Jackie is six feet even and I would die for her. She's Silver's tall superhero Irish queen.

Warnings: Cunnilingus, face-sitting. As always, ask me to add any necessary warnings!

Silver was far too used to being woken up by rapid tapping on the glass door to his balcony. Since he was a superhero, people seemed to have an expectation of Silver to be available at all times. And none expected this more than Silver's girlfriend and superhero partner, Jackie. Of course, she had a very different reason for interrupting his sleep, as Silver found when he groggily opened the door and quickly found himself with an armful of six feet tall smoking hot superhero- and a mouthful of said superhero's tongue.

Silver grunted softly, returning Jackie's rather forceful kiss as best as he could and lacing his arms around her waist. Jackie eventually pulled away from the kiss, a string of saliva connecting her lips to Silver's now kiss-swollen ones.

"Well, that's one way to wake me up," Silver panted, looking up at Jackie and grinning at her.

"I missed you," Jackie said, grinning. Silver laughed and reached up, gently tucking her hair behind her ear.

"I think I can tell," he replied, stumbling the slightest bit when Jackie jumped and wrapped her legs around his waist. Silver laughed and shifted his arms to hold Jackie properly.

"We've been apart for two days," Silver said, walking over to his bed and setting Jackie on her back on it.

"That's too long," Jackie replied, grinning up at Silver and unhooking her legs from his waist. "I missed you."

"So you've said," Silver replied, gently caressing Jackie's cheek. "I missed you, too."

"You should fuck me," Jackie said bluntly. Silver stilled for a moment, then snorted and started laughing, shifting to sit on the bed next to Jackie and holding his face in his hands.

"Hey! Don't laugh!" Jackie protested, sitting up and laughing as well. "I was trying to be sexy! Don't laugh at me!"

"You already are sexy, doll, you don't have to try," Silver replied. "But it's adorable when you try."

"Oh, shut up and fuck me," Jackie whined, swinging her leg over and straddling Silver's lap.

"You're such a pervert sometimes," Silver commented, gently gripping Jackie's hips and leaning forward to kiss her neck.

"Silver," Jackie whined, whimpering softly as Silver bit her neck gently and soothed the bite with his tongue. Silver grinned lightly and pulled Jackie's pyjama crop-top over her head.

"Black lace, huh?" Silver asked, gently fingering the lace of her bralette. "Aren't you a bit big to be wearing a bralette?"

"I was going to sleep," Jackie huffed, blushing.

"And then you got horny?"

"And then I got horny."

Silver smiled and leaned forward, gently mouthing at Jackie's right nipple through the lace of her bralette. Jackie gasped softly and gripped Silver's shoulders, rocking her hips against his thigh. Silver gripped Jackie's hips a bit tighter to still her. Not that it would do much if she really tried to move him, since she had super strength, but it was still fun for Silver to feel like he had control.

"Silver," Jackie said insistently. "Touch me."

"I am touching you," Silver replied with a smirk, moving one hand from Jackie's hips to ghost his fingers along her inner thighs before pushing them up her shorts.

"You know what I want you to do," Jackie whined. Silver hummed lightly and simply sucked on Jackie's other nipple and pushed his hand further up Jackie's shorts to rub her cunt through the wet lace of her panties.

"I see you have a thing for lace lately," Silver said, grinning at Jackie.

"Silver! Fucking christ!" Jackie cursed, rocking her hips against Silver's fingers.

"You seem like you want something," Silver replied, admiring Jackie's desperate glare above him. Jackie growled and grabbed Silver's wrists, pulling his hands away. Silver swallowed thickly as Jackie bodily moved him into the center of the bed.

"You really do like my strength," Jackie teased, cupping Silver's cock through his boxers.

"Who doesn't love to be tossed around by a hot woman every so often?" Silver replied, lifting his hips to help Jackie pull off his boxers. "A little unfair that you're still mostly dressed and I'm naked."

"Well, I'm not the one that sleeps in just my boxers," Jackie replied, stripping off her shorts. "Hands at your side, Silver~"

"Yes, ma'am," Silver replied, dropping his hands to his sides and watching Jackie nudge at his cock.

"That's not bad," Jackie admitted, grinning and kneeling over Silver's face. "Be a good slut, Silver. I know how good you are with your tongue."

Silver nodded and moaned softly as Jackie pushed her panties to the side and lowered herself enough for him to push his tongue between the outer lips of her cunt and into her wet folds. Jackie moaned loudly and rocked her hips down against Silver's tongue, whimpering softly as he curled his tongue around her clit in a way he knew drove her crazy. Jackie gripped the headboard of Silver's bed hard enough to break the wood beneath her hands as Silver fucked her with his tongue.

"Fuck, Silver," Jackie mewled, so caught up in her pleasure that she didn't even care when Silver moved his hands to grip her hips.

"R-remember when we f-first got t-together?" Jackie asked, stuttering slightly from the pleasure. Silver pulled away enough to be able to talk and licked his lips.

"I seem to remember you pushing me to my knees and calling me a slut," Silver replied. "And then riding me until I was so overstimulated I cried."

"Well, if you hadn't cum just from eating me out, I wouldn't have overstimu- Hah!" Jackie cut herself off with a moan as Silver suddenly plunged his tongue back into her and curled it in a way that had her seeing stars as she came. Jackie blinked the stars away and found herself laying on her back, Silver's head still buried between her thighs.

"Silver~" Jackie whined, arching her back and tangling her fingers in Silver's white hair.

Silver didn't reply, merely continued sucking on her clit. Jackie moaned loudly and Silver was fairly certain he'd get a few complaints in the morning from his neighbors, but it wasn't like either of his neighbors hadn't been just as loud before. Or louder, in Bim's case. Jackie tugged Silver's hair harshly, drawing a moan from the younger hero.

"Silver! Silver, stop-" Jackie moaned after she came again, squeezing Silver's head between her thighs. Silver pulled away quickly, spreading her legs apart so he could move. He carefully wiped his mouth clean and gently kissed Jackie's hip.

"Are you okay?" he asked worriedly, trailing loving kisses up to Jackie's neck.

"Yeah," Jackie breathed, panting heavily. "Just. Give me a sec."

"Bad stamina for a superhero," Silver teased, resting his chin on Jackie's chest.

"I have great stamina, excuse you, you're just a tease and have an unfairly long tongue and big lips," Jackie huffed, frowning playfully.

"Mhm, sure," Silver replied, grabbing his boxers and pulling them back on.

"Wait, let me help you."

"Nah, I'm good," Silver assured, helping Jackie under the blankets and snuggling up to her. "I'm good with just servicing you tonight, my dear."

"Hm. Okay." Jackie shifted around so she could be big spoon, holding Silver close. They were silent for a few minutes before Jackie hummed thoughtfully.

"I wonder how they'd look wrapped around a cock," she commented.

"Wonder how what would look?" Silver asked sleepily.

"Your lips," Jackie replied, laughing softly and kissing Silver's cheek.

Silver laughed sleepily. "Go to sleep, Jackie."

"Hm. Okay. Can we talk about it in the morning?"

"Sure, sure. Sleep now, my dear." Jackie nodded and snuggled closer to Silver before falling asleep.

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imaginesmai · 6 years ago

Text

Jax Teller-Break in

Plot: your family night turns into a nightmare morning when some guys break into your house threateing your family.

Warning: angst and sex jokes. Fluffy Abel too.

The loud bell rang and a loud sigh left your lips. You knew it wasn’t over yet, your little own hell still had a few minutes left, but the end was closer. Raising your voice above the children’s shouts and laughs you got them on a line with their backpacks tied and their coats put. You had to reach for little Katie, who was too happy that day and she couldn’t stay in the line, and Marcus asked you to help him to put his backpack on. Parents were waiting outside the building, and as soon as the children saw them, they broke the line and ran towards them, ignoring you completely.

Dolly Smile was the only kindergarten in all Charming, and you had the luck of working there. Bad or good, you didn’t know. You had to work a lot, the parents were never happy with what their children did, and your little pupils gave you back ache and sore throat each weekend. But leaving your hometown was not an option. Being born in Charming meant that you were tied to the people that lived there one way or another. After your parents passed away when you were just sixteen, the town became your family, and everyone helped you thought that hard moment. Specially Jack Teller. You had known him since you were babies, and you became friends since school. In high-school, you got a crush on the pretty boy and right now you were the most known couple in Charming.

- Hey babe. -you heard his voice from behind you. He was leaned in his motorbike, a cigarette hanging loosely from his lips.

- Not here Jax. -you throwed his cigarette to the ground. -There are children around.

- And what? -Jax smirked, pulling you closer by your waist. -You are the good example, they need someone to show them what they can’t do.

- Wow, you are so generous Jax. Smoking so children know they don’t have to do it. -you kissed his lips softly. -Such a prince charming.

- What can I say, I’m all about the fairy tale baby.

Your laugh made Jax’s heart fill with love, and he kissed you one more time before giving you his helmet and hoping on his bike. It was Friday, last day of the week and it was tradition to have dinner with Abel watching a cartoon movie. Family night, yeah. Jax turned on the bike, enjoying the feeling of your arms around his middle. Stepping on the gas, he rode towards his home. You lived in a little apartment outside Charming, but you always ended up at his house; so, he had plenty of your clothes and had told you a million times to move in with him. It didn’t feel right to you, however. After almost two years together, you could say that your relationship was serious enough, yet with Abel in between you didn’t want to rush things. Even if the boy called you mommy and loved having you in his house.

- Take out or homemade? -you asked once you got off his bike.

- I’m beyond tired, and Abel won’t mind as long as there is something good in the TV. -Jax said, getting his keys out and opening the door.

- Daddy! Mommy! -little feet ran towards the entrance of the house, and soon Abel appeared wearing his cute pyjamas.

- Hey boy! -Jax took him in his arms and spun him a few times. -Have you been good to grandma?

- An angel, like always. -Gemma said, getting closer to her little family. -Hey Y/N, how was your day?

- Busy, as always. We are trying to make everything work for Christmas, but with children it’s always difficult. -you told her, taking out your coat. -Tomorrow’s lunch still up?

- Yeah, I’ll have the other old ladies to help me with the food. -Gemma smiled. She hadn’t liked Tara neither Wendy, but you were different. You were good for her son, the amount of innocence and kindness that he needed.

- You sure? I can pass by late in the morning.

- Don’t worry, spend your day with your boys. -she turned to her son. -And Jax, for the love of God, finish soon the problem with the Irish. Clay is driving me crazy.

For a few months now, the club had been having problems with the Irish. Clay sold them some guns and they weren’t paying back, saying that they were too expensive. That made SAMCRO short of money, and they were now having problems with other people as well. Jax nodded shortly, not liking talking about things of the club in front of his son or you. You knew about what he did and you understood him, but he felt that you were too good to even listen to their problems. After saying goodbye to Gemma, you closed the door and changed into your pyjamas.

- Look at you, making me fall in love all over again. -Jax joked, watching you from the door. You were wearing one of his old T-shirt, big sweatpants and a messy bun, with no-make up.

- I’ve cleaned your old boxers, Jax. -you laughed. -We are over that part of a relationship.

- No, I mean it. -Jax said, taking you in his arms and bumping his nose with yours. -I’ve never met a person as gorgeous as you. Just like this, you are more beautiful that all that croweaters of the club.

- You don’t fool me babe, you want to get laid tonight. -your lips touched his softly. -Hate to ruin it, but you will have to wait until Abel is asleep.

Jax faked a frown pouted, imitating his little son. He looked at you with those puppy and angelical eyes that made you forget about the world around you; he didn’t succeed in making you forget about his hands traveling down to your ass.

- I mean it Jax! -you slapped his hands playfully. -Or Abel will be the only one calling you daddy tonight.

- Yes madam. -Jax said, kissing you once again.

His hands found your cheeks and yours his hips, and soon you were into a heavy make out session interrupted by Abel calling both of you. Smiling one last time and pecking his lips, you left him on the bedroom to change clothes and went to see the little boy. Abel was already wrapped in his favourite blanket in the middle of the couch, with the remote gripped tightly in his little hand. Maybe Jax and you were spoiling him by letting him always have control on the TV, but who could say no to his little face? Which, by the way, light up when he saw you.

- Mommy! -Abel said, and you sat next to him. -Daddy called the pizza man, he said it will be here soon. Why isn’t he here? The movie is going to start!

- What movie is it? -you asked, enjoying the feeling of his little body snuggling into you.

- The Fox and the Hound. -Abel explained. -Uncle Chibs told me the other day that it was if favourite when he was a child. When was he a child mommy?

- A long time ago honey. -you laughed at his innocence.

As Jax walked through the door, the bell rang, meaning that pizza was ready and you could start your family night. He was putting on his shirt, so you decided that for that time it would be alright to ignore your boyfriend’s overprotectiveness and open the door by yourself. The delivery guy was checking something behind him when you greeted him, and he looked down at you in surprise. He was taller than Jax, but thin as a stick. After giving you your pizza and receiving a tip, he watched as you closed the door without looking back at him. You returned to the living room to see your boys already snuggled together and waiting for you. Jax was laying in the could and Abel was above him; you climbed and put your head in his shoulder and your arm around your little boy. He wasn’t your blood-son, it wasn’t your house, but it was your family.

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

Jax woke up by the sound of something breaking. At first, he thought nothing of it, but then he felt your cold side of the bed and listened closely. The house was in silence, and the first rays of sun were getting through the window. He guessed it could be between seven and eight in the morning; it was Saturday, you didn’t need to work so there wasn’t any reason why you would be up in such an hour. Thinking you would be doing breakfast or checking on Abel, he closed his eyes again until he heard the click of a gun. When he opened them again, he found himself in front of a guy with a barrel just some inches away from his face. They stared at each other for a while, until with a silent flick of the gun, the stranger made Jax get up and walk ahead of him towards the kitchen.

The scene he found in the kitchen made his heart clench harder than when Tara left him without saying goodbye. A man who was three times your size was holding you by your hair, while you were in your knees with a crying and gagged Abel in your arms. His son didn’t have any visible injury, he was just very scared. You, however, had a cut in your eyebrow, your neck was red and a little purple bruise was forming in your cheek. He felt guilty for letting all of this happen while he was sleeping, but he understood that he couldn’t have heard you with the gag. The big man tugged at your hair a little harder, making a few tears escape your eyes and Jax’s legs move a little forward.

- Get the fuck out of here if you don’t want. -he stopped himself for the sake of Abel and yours. -If you know what’s good for you.

- You see, Teller, I think I’m the one in charge here, okay? -the man behind him said, and Jax noticed that he was Irish. -You and I are going to ride for a while. And that lady is going to stay here with my friend.

- If you think I’m going to let them here-

- It’s not like you have much of an option. -the Irish man laughed, and nodded to the big one.

Abel tried to get away from the big hands that tried to take him away, and you gripped him tighter until the man slapped you hard and took the little kid out of your arms. Jax moved again towards you but the Irish one shot him in the leg. The bullet just graced him, yet it was enough to make him groan and stop walking. Suddenly, a third man entered the room, and you recognised him as the delivery guy.

- Nothing around, sir. We are clear. -he told the Irish one.

- As I was saying, we are going to leave your kid and his momma with my friends. And if you want to see them again, you are going to ride and with me and I’m going to arrive here unharmed. Do you get it? -when Jax didn’t answered, the big man put your hand in the floor and stepped on it, making a painful cry leave your gagged mouth.

- Yes! Fuck, I will go with you! You didn’t have to do that asshole! -Jax said, feeling his own tears filling his eyes at your pain.

The Irish man laughed once again, and Abel cried harder. It pained him to see his son so scared and vulnerable, but he knew he was helpless. The delivery guy took the kid and, even if he was too a bad guy, he was gentler and Abel didn’t resit. The big guy was a lot most sadist, Jax thought, as he dragged you by the hair to another room. He pressed his lips together wanting nothing more than yelling at them for hurting his family. A black car was waiting outside for him, and they walked towards it like if they were friends. That way, the neighbours wouldn’t call the police.

It turned out that the Irish man was more of a talkative person rather than an aggressive one. He told Jax about how they were tired of getting threats from Clay and having a prospect from the club following his guys everywhere. There had been problems with the drug business, and in that moment, they didn’t have the money. The Irish man didn’t say when or if they were going to pay for the guns; it was a friendly advice for the club to stop bothering them before things got really ugly. By the end of the ride, Jax’s hands were twitching nervously and his brain was filled with the possibilities of what he would find when he came back to his house. Before he met you, you hadn’t even seen a gun, you were as pure and innocent as a little girl, and he had ruined that by letting himself fall in love with you. He knew you were scared; hell, you even got scared when SAMCRO had one of his big parties, but he also knew you loved Abel like an own son. So, yeah, he was scared to know what was waiting for him at his house.

- Here we are again, Jax. -the man said. -I hope everything is solved and clear?

- You think I’m going to let this go? -Jax’s anger was only rising. -Wait until you feel safe.

- I’ve been into your house once, boy. I can do it twice. If I ever see one of the SAMCRO vest, I’m not going to be this friendly.

- Friendly? You broke my girl’s hand mate. -Jax said.

- She is quite a fierce when it comes to your son. -the Irish smiled. -Don’t make me take her with me.

Jax wanted to wrap his hands around that man’s neck and don’t stop until he was as purple as the bruise in your cheek, but he knew better. Inside the house, everything was the same as the night before, and the delivery guy soon appeared with Abel in his arms. After a nod from his boss head, he let his son on the ground and Jax took him in his arms. It hurt him to stay up, and he could feel the blood coming out of his knee; but his family was not complete.

- Where is Y/N? -he asked, seeing as the two strangers were whispering between them. -Where the hell is my girlfriend?

- We’ll be leaving. -the Irish men said. -I don’t want to see any black bike near me ever again boy. I warn you.

- I’ve asked-

He was cut by the door slamming and the guys running off like the cowards they were. Jax felt his breathe caught in his throat as he asked his son about you, but he shook his head and hugged his father closer. While searching in every room, he called Opie and told him what happened; and soon, the roar of the motorbikes was outside. Chibs tried to make him sit so he could look at his knee, but the only thing he got was to hold his son as he looked for you panicking. Opie helped him look for you as Chibs took Abel with Gemma, and when they found you Jax wished they didn’t. You were thrown into the backyard of his house like a rag doll, with your hair all over your face and a bullet wound in your shoulder. There were bruises covering your whole body and your pants were midway your tights. Your shirt was ripped open, and next to you laid the body of the big man with his pants down and a hole in his head. The only thing Jax could do before falling to the floor was to say your name softly.

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A bright light blinded you when you tried to open your eyes for the first time, and you moved your hand to cover them. You felt something piercing it, a little tube you discovered later when you could see again. It took you a few seconds to place yourself, and the first thing you saw was Jax broad body trying to accommodate to the little chair in the room. It was an hospital room, and surprisingly it was full of flowers, balloons and little things made by little hands. Your throat was sore from the lack of water, but you managed to make a little sound and catch your boyfriend’s attention. As soon as he opened his eyes, he was by your side kissing all your face with his hands on your cheeks.

- Jax! -you laughed, and he gave you a glass of water after hearing your voice.

- I’m sorry, babe. -Jax smiled, watching as you drank. -Just-I’m so happy you are awake.

- How long have I been like this?

- Three days, doctor said-

- Oh God Jax! My children!

- Don’t worry Y/N. -Jax laughed. -I called the school and they gave you the free week. Gemma is making everyone finish the Christmas project so it will be done when you come back. Your children are in love with her, and their parents to afraid to disobey her. They were here the other day, brought you a lot of things.

You looked over where Jax was pointing a saw a pile with drawings and some handmade objects from your children. Tears filled your eyes when you thought about that little group of monsters who cared about you as much as you loved them.

- Is Abel okay? -you asked, feeling the panic back.

- Yeah, he’s with mom now. He has been here a lot; can’t be away from his mommy you know. -Jax smirked. -He loves you a lot.

- And I love him too, Jax. -you said, leaning you so could kiss his soft lips.

- I’m sorry. -Jax whispered, and you felt his breath on your face. -I’m so sorry, babe, you shouldn’t have to endure all of this.

- I’m fine, Jax. That guy didn’t do anything, the thin one killed him before he got the chance. -you ran your hand through his long hair.

- But I let him beat you Y/N. And your hand is broken.

- Baby. -you moved so Jax could lay with you in bed, and you put the hand with the plaster on his chest. -You couldn’t do anything, he had Abel and a gun to your face. I don’t blame you, no one does.

- Still I-

- You could put that mouth to another use, you know. -you smirked. -Didn’t you promise me something the other night?

- I can’t believe you. -Jax laughed. -There you are, looking so innocent but you are just a naughty girl.

You chuckled and soon his lips sealed with yours. Jax put himself above you, with care of not crashing you and not letting your lips go. One of his hands stroked your cheek a few times, while the other one touched your bare skin under your hospital gown. Before he could even think about having sex with you in a public place, the door was kicked open and he fell out of bed. Abel ran towards your bed, stepping on his father who was laying in the floor and hugging you tightly. Gemma appeared behind him, with a big and knowing smile on his face.

- Are we interrupting something? -she asked.

- Why are you on the floor daddy? -Abel asked, looking down at his father. -Mommy has lost an earring?

- No, Abel. Daddy was just enjoying the cold floor. -Jax said, while Gemma and you laughed. -What are you doing here?

- Abel was asking for his mommy, and I though we could pass by. Didn’t know you would be on “daddy mode”. -Gemma said, making you blush.

- What’s daddy mode grandma?

Abel spent the next few hours until the doctor said you could leave tucked at your side, like a little monkey. Jax smiled at the sight of you, the two most important things in life together and safe.

#imaginemai #jax teller one shot #jax teller x reader #jax teller #jax teller imagine #sons of anarchy imagine #sons of anarchy #soa #sons of anarchy one shot #sons of anarchy x reader #soa one shot #soa x reader #soa imagine #one shot #angst

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mrsarnasdelicious · 6 years ago

Text

Got the Cream [Mad Sweeney]

A/N: The second out of three. Reader is a believer, who leaves something something out for a certain someone someone.

Your friends tell you you are crazy every time they see you put a portion of your dinner in the windowsill. They roll their eyes when you pour a dish of cream and set it by the front door before you go to bed.

Your friends have no idea. Your friends don’t know you have been proven correct in your faith. Your faith in him.

You have known him since you were a child. Your grandfather was the one who encouraged your faith in him. And so, in exchange for food and cream, he gave you protection and quite some luck. When you were a kid he was just your huge protector. He scared bullies away with loud Irish Gaelic swearing and helped you over several of your anxieties.

But you grew up. And he no longer served to scare of bullies and hold your hand before going onto the rollercoaster. He now comes with you when you go out drinking to make sure no one spikes you drink. He walks with you when you have to go home alone at night.

He’s only just threatened that Nice Guy™, who just can’t take a no, from your work. “He ain’t gona bother you anymore.” He says, leaning against the doorpost. You turn to him, having hung away your coat. “Please tell me you did not murder him.” You look at the Leprechaun. No one had ever looked less like what you imagined a leprechaun to look like, but now you were used to him. “I didn’t.” Sweeney shakes his head. “I only broke his nose and told him that I’d break his cock off if he every leered at you like that again.” The Irishman says. You roll your eyes. “Do you always have to be so ...so uncouth?” You ask. “I’m Irish.” Is his only answer. ¨ My god, you are incorrigible.” You kick your shoes under your coatrack.

“Am I your god?” There is something forlorn in Sweeney’s voice.

“Will you please come the hell in. The way you stand in my doorway makes me nervous.” You said. Upon the invite, the redhead crosses the threshold. “What are you, a vampire?” You snortle. Sweeney’s turn to roll his eyes. “Really, woman!” He says, a bit too loud. “Oh come on Big Red, I am just teasing.” You wrap his arms around his waist from behind. Your press your face against his denim jacket. He smells of the woods and of blood. Sometimes you expect him to smell like a gutter, when he looks like a slept in one, but he never does. Maybe it is a leprechaun thing. Maybe the Fair Folk always smell like the woods they sprung from.

Your fingers find the front of his trousers. He is already quite hard, but he grows while you palm him. Sweeney groans under his breath. “Well well, that certainly is something entirely different than cream and bread.” He purrs. This is not the first time you will be intimate with Sweeney. It does not happen that often, but sporadically you end up in the sack together. “But you want it?” You whisper against his back. “I am not denying that.” Sweeney replies. You pop the buttons of his faded plain trousers. Your hands sneak into his trousers, pawing at his boxer clad erection.

“You know this works better for me when I can kiss ye.” Sweeney purrs. “I know, but I like it this way for now.” You cooe. You slide your other hand into his trousers and both your hands go into his boxers. He twitches as your touch him. You press your face against his denim jacket and you curls your fingers around his cock. Slowly you start jerk him off with a two handed grip. Sweeney tries so hard to keep his body from reacting too much. But he doesn’t succeed. Your touch coaxes his pelvis in wild but curt bucks. You circle a finger over his glans and he groans softly.

Sweeney shrugs out of his denim jacket. You don’t mind. His shirt, also dark blue, smells more of his body, earthy and of burning spices. His pelvis has ceased bucking, because he is unbuttoning his shirt. Sweeney is very bad at multitasking. His shirt slides down to the floor. His wife beat smells better than his shirt. It’s almost like you can smell the magic of his kind. You press into his scent. His scent that has accompanied you almost your entire life. His scent means safety, security and growth in your life. Sweeney yanks his wife beat over his head. You press yourself against his warm skin, breathing him in. You almost drown in the magic of him. Magic you can almost taste as you kiss soft at his muscular back. Sweeney murrs softly at the ministrations.

“Shall we take this to the bedroom?” He suggests. You slowly remove your hands from his trousers. “I am sure you would like that.” You cooe. Sweeney turns to you. His large hands cup your cheeks and he bends down to crash his lips into yours. You moan softly and wrap your arms around his neck. The kiss is surprisingly tender and Sweeney makes it last. You are not used to that. The lust that consumes the both of your when you usually engage with each other is not yet present. Yet you don’t doubt Sweeney’s desire for you. You know he always will desire you.

Sweeney picks you up as if you are a little princess. For a brief moment he is more than just a leprechaun who’s best days have long since past. For a brief moment you see him how he was in his glory days. There is the ghost of blue paint on his chest and face. There are braids in his faux-hawk and the woods are mirrored in his hazel eyes. “Who are you?” You whisper as he places you gently on the bed. “I forgot…” Sweeney whispers, a sad note in his voice. “Were you a god?” You ask softly. Sweeney looms over you, putting your body entirely in his shadow. “Yes, I were.. I think. I were first a god, then a king and … I lost all of that. Now I only have the gold to attest to it.” He rains several gold coins on your chest. They are all from different era’s in old history, from different countries. “Who were you?” You softly repeat your question, scratching your fingers through his beard and sideburns. This time Sweeney makes no reply. He leans down to kiss you again. There is a spark of electricity between your lips.

Sweeney rolls over, dragging you on top of him. His hands wander under your shirt. The kiss deepens this time. His tongue licks into your mouth. You moan softly to him and he groans back. His tongue explores your mouth and you meet him with your own. Sweeney snaps the clasp of your bra. You sit up to take off your shirt. Sweeney helps you remove your bra. His large hands cup your breasts and paws at them lewdly. You sigh in pleasure, loving the way his warmth seeps into your skin.

Sweeney scoots backwards, so he is sitting against the headboard of your bed. His mouth finds the junction between your shoulder and neck, which he adorns with a large purple hickey. You moan loudly and knot your fingers into his ginger hair. His mouth wanders to the spot between your neck and your ear and he tastes your skin there. “I love the way you smell.” He murmurs hotly. His nose presses behind your ear and he inhales. “You smell like home.” He presses you close against his wickedly muscular torso. Your heart hurts for him. You know this cannot last, as much as you want it. You want to ask him to stay, but you know that is selfish. He will outlast you by years beyond count. So you keep your tongue behind your teeth.

You search out his lips with your own again. He is eager enough to kiss you back. His tongue presses through your lips. You cling to him, you press your knees against his hips. His large hands map your back, fingers trailing old gaelic runes and knots on your skin. Exchange kiss after open mouthed kiss, even when your lungs burn for air. Sweeney only pulls away to press his mouth against your collarbone. He presses his teeth down into your skin. You moan softly, pushing his face tighter against your skin. His teeth break your skin and you bleed a little. “All the sacrifice I need.” Sweeney whispers, lapping up the few drops of blood that pearl up from your skin. His mouth wanders lower. He attaches hungrily to your nipple. You craddle his head against your chest, holding onto him as if he can disappear any moment. His arms tighten around your waist. He is never going to let you go. And for that moment your home is only in his arms, so close to his warmth.

Soon enough, though, the warmth turns to arousal. Sweeney uses his teeth on your nipples and you moaned loudly. Sweeney suckles down harder onto your left nipple first and then your right. You whisper lewdly that you want more. Sweeney grinds his pelvis against yours. You press down on him. “I need you out of these trousers now.” Sweeney hisses. You stand up, but don’t move away from his lap. Sweeney smirks, raising his hands to grope at your ass. You pop the button of your skinny jeans and set to peeling the denim from your legs. Sweeney is not being helpful. He gropes at you, caressing his hands over every piece of skin you are for him. He looks up at you, his Hazel eyes half lidden with lust. His hands bring your panties down while you are still struggling with your jeans.

His mouth finds your thighs once you are out of your jeans panties. He places lavish open mouthed kisses on your warm skin. You whine loudly and feel how you are feeling wet. “Fuck, I can smell you.” Sweeney growls. He bites lewldy at your thigh. “Hmm fuck.” You huff between clenched teeth. While his mouth never leaves your thighs, his fingers part your fold. You feel your knees buckle when Sweeney’s thumb presses against your clit. “Hold on to me.” Sweeney says. Easier said than done, all you can grab hold of is his head. But rather than doing that, you lean your forehead against the wall. Sweeney voices so complaint. He rubs slow lazy circles over your clit and creates his hickies on your thighs. You moan loudly for him. Tension grows in your spine, spreading through your muscles. Sweeney’s other hand creeps up your leg. His fingers crawl over your folds and push inside you. You give a sharp little squeal, pleasure almost overwhelming you. “That is right, scream for me.” Sweeney purrs. He slowly fucks you with two fingers. Until your legs give you

You fall down in his lap, panting wildly. “And you didn’t even cum yet.” Sweeney tsks playfully. You pull at one of his suspenders, threatening to thwack it on his nipple. “Watch your tongue Big Red.” You threaten. Sweeney snortled and unclasps the fronts of his suspenders. “Give me some room.” He says. You put your knees under yourself again, giving Sweeney a little space to push down his trousers. He kicks his trousers and boxers out of the bed. You sit back down in his lap. Your wet folds kiss his hard cock. “C’mon once more.” Sweeney whispers. You push yourself up with your knees. Sweeney presses the head of his cock against your core. “Down you go.” He murmurs. Slowly you all but impale yourself on his cock. Sweeney grabs you by the hips, but does not control your movements. Swiftly you make him bottom out. Sweeney swears in old Irish under his breath.

You ride him for all that you are worth. Sweeney and you moan in unison. He grips at you, as if to trap you forever in his arms. You ride him like a wild mustang, working every muscle in your legs for all they have. Sweeney’s hand leaves you hip and slips between your bodies. His thumb finds your clit again. Your legs give up. You sit down on him and let pleasure consume you. Sweeney’s strong hips thrust up into you, while he rubs you in a steady but gentle fashion. Every part of you feels like it is on fire. Your climax is rapidly approaching and all you can do is hold on for dear life.

You scream his name as you cum.

Sweeney is far from done with you yet. He jackhammers into you. Even from his position he does so with ease. You suspect his muscular build has something to do with it. And the power with which he pounds into you is merciless.

He too shouts your name when he cums.

You sag against his wide torso, panting loudly. Sweeney’s breath is heavy too, but not far as heavy as yours. “That was great.” You whisper against his shoulder. Sweeney chuckles softly. “Yes it were.” He murmurs

#mad sweeney #mad sweeney x reader #american gods #lemon scented writings #not sfw

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