#Why would I take up my sunday going to church when I could sit at home and still get into heaven

[gxlden-angels]

And the winner is...

Protestant Work Ethic!

The loser is all of us :)

Mothers and Fuckers of the jury, my friends and I would like for you all to vote on the Protestant version of "Catholic Guilt." My personal favorite is Protestant Paralysis, but don't let that influence your decision. At first I thought the Protestant Work Ethic covered it but feel like it's too specific to be the same thing

[shawtuzi]

omg i remember your peaches and coconut fics hows my fav couple especially daddy eren i hope as freaky as ever 🤗☺️☺️

they’re doing soooo good!! you remember that fat rock and big house he promised you?? well he was able to get them for you and much more. take a walk with me real quick babe—

this is 18+ so mdni thank yewww!!! cw include: black coded reader, eren being a dad, some talk about church stuff (not rlly), mentions of sexcapades w jean hehe (literally a whole ass flashback of reader giving them both head), oral m and f receiving, eren eating it over her panties, shoe humping, mentions of a lactation kink, unprotected sex, kinda public sex?? they fuck in a bathroom, creampie bc would it rlly be a fic by me if no one was getting nutted in? NOT PROOFREAD SAWRY </3

“ren? rennyyy,” eren’s eyes cracked open at the sound of your soft voice, quickly connecting with yours. you were sitting on his stomach, hands resting on his chest while your cute lil cross necklace dangled in his face. he shifted his head the tiniest bit to read the alarm clock—

6:37 A.M.

why were you waking him up so early?? it couldn’t be for sex…no…he fucked you back to sleep around two, he couldn’t hear any noise coming from your daughters’ baby monitor, he didn’t see your eldest daughter curled up next to him so what could it be??

“it’s sunday eren.”

fuckkkkk. “oh…right,” eren let out a deep sigh, shutting his eyes once more. it was sunday— which means church, which means seeing his father, which means making pointless small talk with your parents, which means hearing your daughters whine and cry about how tired they are and how they don’t wanna go to the church daycare.

“why don’t we just stay in this sunday hm?” eren said, voice laced with tiredness. he brought his hands to your hips, squeezing the soft flesh tenderly. you giggled, burying your face in his neck that still smelled of his body wash.

“very veryyyy tempting but i promised my mom we’d be there this week, plus we haven’t been in a couple weeks anyway,” you kissed at his neck, making him squeeze your hips harder.

unlike both your guys’ parents you and eren do not attend church every weekend and aren’t quite as religious, especially eren. the only reason he attends is because it’s what you want, and he’s not one to object anything his wife wants so he just sucks it up and goes.

“c’mere,” eren muttered, bringing his hands from your hips to your silky smooth thighs. you leant down and he was quick to capture your lips in a kiss, humming in content when you kissed him back. eren bit down unexpectedly on your bottom lip making you gasp, giving him the perfect opportunity to slip his tongue in your mouth.

you laced your fingers in his soft, brown locks before giving them a harsh tug, breaking the heated kiss. “get ready we leave in an hour….and you may need to take a cold shower,” you giggled, giving his pouting lips one more kiss before making your way to your daughters’ room to wake them. eren glanced down at his semi and threw his head back in annoyance. a cold shower was indeed needed.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

“but i don’t wanna go!” your eldest daughter stomped her foot in protest, her big brown eyes welling up with tears. eren sighed, kneeling down to be eye level with her, “it’s just for an hour, see that clock up there? once the little hand is on the 9 mommy and i will get you and we’ll get something special for lunch! how does that sound sweet thing?”

she sniffled and slowly nodded, reaching her arms out to get one last hug from him before you left her with the church daycare. “that’s my girl. mommy, sissy, and i will see you in a bit okay?” he gave her chubby cheek a fat kiss, and wiped her tears before handing her off to the caretaker.

“you’re such a good daddy,” you whispered in eren’s ear, giving the spot below his ear a soft kiss. eren cleared his throat, uttering out a small ‘thank you’. god you were going to be the death of him.

“let me carry this for you,” he didn’t wait for your response, taking the carrier that was holding your youngest. she was fast asleep and by the grace of god hopefully it would stay that way.

you and eren walked hand in hand into the chapel, immediately being greeted by people you’ve known since you were teenagers. you did most of the talking which eren was thankful for, oh how lucky he was to have married a certified yapper.

“y/n?”

you whipped your head around, your mouth dropping slightly in shock. “jean? oh my goodness how are you?” you giggled, bringing him in for a bone crushing hug. eren kissed his teeth, choosing to skip the reunion and instead find your parents to sit with them. you rolled your eyes at him, giggling once more. six years of dating and four years of being married and he still was so possessive. you wouldn’t change a thing about it though.

“he hasn’t changed i see,” jean chuckled, scratching at the scuff on his jaw. you glanced at eren once more, just to find him already looking at the both of you, brows furrowed. “nope…still the same eren we all know and love.” love was an understatement to you though—eren was your moon and stars, your reason for breathing, he was everything to you. he had once told you before—while he was balls deep inside you that he wanted to claim you mind, body, and soul and you would say he definitely succeeded.

you and jean talked for a few more minutes before going your separate ways to find your seats before service started. the second you sat down eren wrapped his strong arms around your waist, pulling you as close as possible. he nuzzled his nose in your hair, internally melting at the smell of peaches and coconut. after all these years it was still your signature scent, and never failed to make his heart beat faster and his dick jump.

“jean sounds like he’s doing pretty good….said he’s been doing a lot of traveling,” you spoke softly, resting your hand on eren’s thigh, leaning into his side. eren hummed, suddenly finding more interest in your sleeping daughter. she was the spitting image of you—absolutely perfect in every way.

eren tensed when he felt you squeeze his thigh, “you alright my love? you’re awfully quiet, you aren’t upset with me for making you come here are you?” you looked at him with those doe eyes and he immediately felt like the biggest asshole in the world.

“of course not baby i never mind coming here with you, you know that. it’s just that i wasn’t expecting him to be here. we haven’t seen him since…you know,” he trailed off, giving your hand a loving squeeze.

it was true—you both hadn’t seen jean since high school which was when your sexcapdes with him were at an all time high. since then eren has never let another man lay a hand on you sexually. you belonged to him and no one else and he belonged to you just as much.

you felt your cheeks get hot at the memories of the three of you messing around, bringing an amused smirk to eren’s face. as much as he was annoyed to see that man it definitely gave him an incentive to tease you a little about it.

eren glanced over at your parents and his mother who were immersed in their own conversation before leaning in close to you. “remember when you sucked us both off at the same time? you looked so pretty, especially with both our nut on your face. remember that baby?” you gasped at his language, elbowing him in the side making him laugh.

before he could say anything else the service finally started. about fifteen minutes into eren’s dad speaking you felt eren’s thumb begin to rub soft circles on your hip, giving it a firm squeeze every now and again. why oh why did he have to bring up those memories of you with him and jean—now it was all your mind could think about.

*flashback*

“a-ah shit! just like that baby,” eren growled at the way you choked around his dick, spit dripping from your chin and onto the new floral printed dress he’d bought for you. while you were using your mouth on eren your free hand was occupied with jean, stroking his dick in the best way possible.

every time you’d gag harshly around eren your hands would accidentally squeeze his tip a little too hard, causing a symphony of moans to slip past his lips—which also happened to have your cherry flavored lip gloss smeared across them. “sucking us so good baby mmh fuck—thank you. say thank you dickhead,” eren growled elbowing jean in the side. your pulled eren out of your mouth with a pop! quickly engulfing jean’s dick in your warm mouth.

jean’s head fell back against the wall, his adams apple bobbing. “t-thank you y/n, thank you so much,” his voice sounding whiny and breathy, and he might’ve cared sounding like that in front of eren if you weren’t making him feel so sooo good. you hummed around his dick, your tongue licking the underside of him to bring him closer to his orgasm.

your jaw was aching and the whole lower side of your face was covered with spit and their pre but you were as content as could be. the way you squeezed your thighs together didn’t go unnoticed by eren, so him being the sweet boyfriend he was gently nudged your thighs apart before pressing his shoe against your pussy. you wasted no time humping his shoe, your little mewls and moans making shivers crawl up jean’s spine.

eren nudged jean, a devilish smirk on his kiss swollen lips. “see the way she’s humping my shoe like a little slut? you fucking wish huh?” he chuckled, his head tilting back in pleasure when you began to play with his balls. jean’s nostrils flared as he took in the way you desperately ground your pussy against eren’s shoe.

“she’s so wet—fuck how is she so wet just from this?” eren let out a breathy laugh because jean did sound genuinely astonished at how soaked you were. “see the way her panties are sticking to her pussy? she’s soaked,” eren pressed his shoe harder against your pussy, snickering at the way your hips stuttered.

it was too much for jean. the way your plump lips suckled on his tip, the way your hand squeezed his base just right, and worst of all—the lewd wet noises coming from your pussy just from humping on eren. “i’m not g’nna last s-she’s gonna make me cum, you’re gonna make me cum y/n—”

“not in her fucking mouth you aren’t, how ‘bout we finish on her face? would you like that baby?” eren gripped onto your hair, pulling your off jean’s dick with the tiniest bit of force. your chest heaved up and down as you licked a your swollen lips. the way you looked at him—oh he could’ve taken you right there jean watching or not.

you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and nodded, the sweetest smile now gracing your lips. “yes—please finish on my face,” your hands began to stroke both of their dicks once again, your pussy throbbing at the way they both twitched and throbbed in your hands.

jean was the first to let go of course once he saw you open your mouth, tongue sticking out of course. eren was quick to follow, both of their cum landing on your face in quick spurts. “what a fucking sight this is” eren bit his lip, running his dick over your lips, a chill running down his spine when he felt you suckle on it.

*flashback over*

you felt a particularly harsh squeeze on your side breaking you out of your thoughts. “you’re awfully quiet, i bet you were thinking about it huh? dirty little thing,” eren let out a low chuckle, pulling you impossibly closer to his body. “didn’t we fuck you at the same time that day too? poor thing you were so sore afterwards having two dicks in that little pussy—”

you gasped at his foul language, catching the attention of your parents. “you alright y/n?” your mother asked making you even more flustered. you looked up at eren, then to your mother before standing up. eren’s brows furrowed in confusion when you reached your hand out to him, but he gladly took it anyway.

“my chest is feeling a little sore….i think i just need to go pump or something. do you guys minding watching her for a minute? we’ll be super quick thank you!” you didn’t give them much time to respond before you were dragging eren out of the chapel.

eren pulled you back, stopping you in your tracks, “do you really need to pump? i don’t think i brought the machine with me but i don’t mind leaving to g—” eren was cut off by your lips crashing against his, your hands clutching onto his dress shirt for dear life.

“m’fine ren *kiss* jus’ need you *kiss kiss* really bad” you words were muffled due to your lips never leaving eren’s, but he understood you just fine.

eren grabbed your trembling hand and led you to the nearest bathroom, ushering you into the closest stall the second you entered. “when’s the last time i fucked you here?” eren asked quietly, pushing your front against the stall door. you whined at the sloppy kisses he began to leave on your shoulders and neck, your backside pushing against his growing erection.

“u-um i think it was years ago when—hah! w-we were teenagers,” you let out a breathless laugh at the memory of you both crammed in this same stall, your legs thrown over both his shoulders while he devoured your pussy. eren began to kiss down your neck, then your back until he was kneeling down, face to face with your dress covered backside.

he slowly lifted up your dress, his big hands roaming all around your ass and the fat of your thighs. “m’glad you remember, that’s one of my favorite memories of us. the number one being the day i married you of course,” he chuckled, spreading your ass cheeks to get a glimpse of your already soaked pussy. he licked his lips before taking a long, fat lick up your center, chuckling when he heard you gasp.

even though you were still wearing your panties he could still taste the sweet, yet tangy taste that was you—his beautiful oh so sweet wife. you both stayed like that for a few moments before eren got impatient and yanked your panties to the side, his lips finding your swollen clit with ease.

“r-renny, not so loudddd” you sniffled, reaching your hand back to pull at his hair, running his perfectly styled bun but he didn’t mind in the slightest. your pleas for him to quiet down went in one ear and out the other because if anything it sounded like he was slurping on your pussy even louder than beforehand.

it didn’t take long before you were cumming all over eren’s tongue, your knees nearly buckling at the way he continued to suck on your sensitive clit. “fuck i’ll never get sick of eating this pussy,” eren ran his tongue over his lips and chin, fighting the urge to dive back in just so you could squirt on his tongue.

“gotta make this quick honey, don’t wanna keep everyone waiting too long yeah?” eren kept you facing forward, your back now arched, glistening pussy on display waiting for him to finally fuck you. he ran his tip between your folds, shuddering at how warm you felt.

without warning eren rammed his hips forward, forcing a broken moan to leave your lips. eren was quick to cover your mouth with his hand, hissing when he felt you bite down on the skin. “sorry baby m’sorry,” eren cooed, coating your neck in wet kisses while his free hand wasted no time toying with your clit. his pace was quick and brutal, the sound of skin slapping echoing throughout the bathroom.

“mmph—renny,” he heard your muffled voice and removed his hand, gripping your chin to force you to look at him. “what is it baby? what do you need from daddy hm? i’m fucking you good ain’t i?” eren looked down and cracked the smallest smile at the way your pussy was sucking him in, a white sheen of your cream coating his base.

you didn’t say anything, instead you stuck out your tongue waiting for eren to do what he did best—give you the sloppiest fucking kiss you’ve received, each time nastier than the last. eren chuckled and wasted no time sucking your tongue into his mouth, moaning into the kiss. you eyes rolled into the back of your head, your pussy clenching onto eren’s dick like a vice. oh how you lived for his kisses.

eren changed his strokes to deep and slow, trying in any way to contain the loud squelching noise from your cunt. “ah ah ah! o-oh m-my,” you bit down harshly on your bottom lip making eren tisk.

“c’mon baby say what you were gonna say he’s listening,” eren growled, pinching your clit between his fingers. if it weren’t for eren holding you up you surely would’ve collapsed.

“oh my god! e-rennnn,” your thighs tensed as eren fucked you through your orgasm, droplets of your cum dripping to the floor. “fuck yeah that’s it baby, scream for your god let ‘em know who’s fucking this pussy,” eren rolled his hips in a way that had your eyes crossing, the feeling of another orgasm already approaching.

eren released his grip on your chin, his hands now finding purchase on your hips, ramming into you with everything he had. “s’good,” he hummed, giving your ass three quick swats.

“so *thrust* fucking *harder thrust* good *really hard thrust*”

your hands scrambled to find something—anything to grab onto, your legs felt like jelly, you body slowly sliding down which each brutal thrust. “nope get up—stand up straight like a good girl,” eren growled, lifting your body up once more. you were practically on your tippy toes, tongue lolled out, and eyes crossed as eren treated you like his own personal fuck toy.

he’s so damn strong. you could feel his muscles bulging through his dress shirt, his abs that he’s maintained all these years making the most delicious clapping sounds against your ass.

“s-shit m’gonna cum, where you want it honey,” eren let out a shaky breath, balls tightening when he felt you squeeze around him for the umpteenth time. your brain was scrambled, the only form of communication you were able to give him is a whine, your mouth slowly dropping open.

“mmph alright baby i’ll give it to you,” eren gave you three more toe curling thrusts before you came with a squeal, white dots taking over your vision. eren cursed when he felt himself already cumming, quickly pulling out and pushing you to your knees. he slipped his thumb in your mouth, pushing down on your tongue to open your mouth wider before releasing the rest of his cum on your awaiting tongue.

you hummed at the taste of him, taking more of his dick into your mouth with ease. eren’s breath hitched, his thighs tensing up from overstimulation. eren gently pulled you away from his cock, a line of spit connecting your lips to the tip. “i think i got a little inside m’sorry baby” he puffed air from his cheeks, tucking himself back in his dress pants.

eren gently lifted you from the floor, making sure your body was steady before bringing you in a tight embrace. you nuzzled your face into his chest, breathing in the intoxicating scent of his cologne.

“you good?” he whispered into your hair, gently stroke your lower back. you nodded, holding onto him tighter, whining when you felt his cum drip down the inside of your thigh. “clean it up,” you mumbled into his shirt, your cheeks flaming hot.

eren let out a low chuckle, muttering out a soft ‘m’kay sweet thing’ before pushing your back against the stall once more. he made quick work putting your leg over his shoulder, licking and sucking at your thighs, cleaning up his cum like the good lil husband he was.

once he was finished he gave your clit a soft kiss, letting out a breathy laugh when he felt you smack the side of his head. “i’m done i’m done, now let’s get outta here before people start to wonder where we are,” he figured your parents were already wondering you two had gone off too but he rlly didn’t give a damn—not when you just gave him one of the best nuts he’s ever had.

just as you two were leaving the restroom you bumped into—of course jean fucking kirstein. “what are you doing?” eren asked, wrapping his arm around you, pulling you into his side. jean looked at the bathroom door then back at eren, “um using the bathroom? what were you two doing?” he cocked his eyebrow, tilting his head to the side.

you both didn’t say anything, but the fucked out looked on your face and eren’s shit eating grin told him everything he needed to know. “you guys are gross….now if you’ll excuse me,” jean cleared his throat, brushing past you and eren to get into the restroom.

you buried your face in eren’s side in embarrassment making his laugh. “don’t get all worked up doll, you know he won’t say shit—probably in there right now jerking it to the thought fucking you,” eren gave your hip a possessive squeeze, guiding you to the chapel.

fortunately for him service was just finishing up.

“there you two are! you missed the whole thing, what took so long?” your mother rushed up to you both, you could see the tiniest bit of frustration in her eyes.

eren took the carrier that was holding your daughter from her, “she just had to pump sorry we took so long mrs. y/l/n. we’ll be sure to join you next sunday to make up for it i promise” eren used the most sincere tone he could, he gave your hip a loving squeeze when he felt you relax into his touch. “now if you’ll excuse us we gotta get genesis,” you both bid your parents farewell before making your way to the basement where the sounds of screaming children and parents could be heard.

“there’s my sweet girl!” you giggled, giving your daughter a bear hug when she jumped into your arms. eren leant down to give her forehead a kiss, “see? that wasn’t too bad now was? now let’s go get something yummy to eat! daddy’s starving,” he whispered the last part in your ear, giving your behind a pinch making you jump.

“don’t worry i’ll make sure you’re nice and fed i promise,” you giggled giving him three quick kisses on his jaw. eren gave you a toothy grin, ecstatic because he knew you’d keep your promise.

and that my friends is how peaches and coconut! eren and his wifey are living <3

[heavndoll]

𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐒.

pairings — fem!reader and rafe cameron.

summary — after rafe takes your life, he tries to move on, and simply pretends he’s the one who didn’t do so. eventually, hauntings and truths will lay themselves out to remind rafe just how sickening he is.

warning tags — adult language. details of gruesome m*rder & m*rder itself. mentions of DV relationship, (brief) child ab*se & awful parents. talks of religion and god. reader’s pov from heaven (?? just stick w the program). rafe actually going more insane than usual. overall dark content.

author’s note — this is based on and inspired by ethel cain’s song ‘strangers’ and while this song has multiple interpretations to go by, i’m taking mine by the main and common one (just without the c*nnibalism!). this also gets super dark and depressing so if you cannot bear any of it, please click off! this also isn’t revised at all so my apologies for grammar mistakes.

likes, shares & reblogs are very much appreciated ⋆୨୧ ₊ﾟ

you had tears in your eyes, body shaking to point you thought you’d convulse. you tried to be obedient by keeping in rafe’s secret of what he had done on that tarmac. he beat you to make sure you kept your mouth shut for good.

he said, “i’ll kill you if you say one word,” and it took enough fear to believe him, but you didn’t think that day would come.

murder is an evil thing, and everyone can attest to it. rafe murdered sheriff peterkin as if she was nothing, as if she was a problem in the way. bad enough, he let john b. routledge — one of your best friends — take the fall for it.

you continued to keep your mouth shut, but after rafe tried to invade the police, ward killing himself, you didn’t see a reason to keep quiet. ward was the only reason why rafe could stay out of prison, and now that he wasn’t around, you could speak.

your father preached every sunday to live by righteousness and good, to never let evil win.

rafe was that evil. he was the devil himself.

the devil that you danced with, let make love to you, kiss you, but also beat you until stars twinkled in your vision, and your breath kept getting caught in your throat.

your mother would be horrified to know that, your father too. but it was their fault in a way that you accepted this cruelty as love; your father, especially to blame.

if love is not meant to be hit at you, does it even exist? your father showed you that when he’d slap or punch you for falling out of line, but go to church the next day, and preach about being a good servant to god.

you wanted all evil out of your life. it was suffocating, it was drowning you.

rafe had to be eliminated first.

“you killed peterkin, and i’m tired of knowing it,” you said, picking up your car keys. “we are done, and i won’t even show up to your trial when you go down for it.”

rafe just stared at you appalled and puzzled, sitting on the edge of his bed. you were close to being far out enough to your car until strong, violent hand seized you.

you screamed and kicked, not being new to this routine, only knowing that he was going to harm you.

you could never predict that his violence would lead him to murdering you.

“let me go, rafe!” you screamed, being pulled inside, your pleas and cries echoing in the empty home.

expecting to be physically berated, you were being led downwards.

to the wine cellar basement.

and for once in a while, you prayed to god, and hoped he would finally listen to you this time. that he would save his child, and perform a miracle.

but a miracle never came as rafe manhandled you, pinning you down on the cement ground of the basement.

“shut the fuck up! stop crying!” he yelled, a solid punch coming to your cheek, and you yelped, an easy gush of blood rushing out of your mouth. “you’re a fuckin’ backstabber. after everything i’ve done for you, gonna treat me like that?”

you cried, shaking your head. “r—rafe, please! i’ll be good, i’ll stop!”

“don’t trust you, little one. can’t let you ruin everything,” rafe said, reaching for something out of his back pocket.

the more you fought back, the more angry he got; the more you fueled the fire that rested in his hands and body.

before you could let out another plead, a sharp pain was made into your abdomen.

rafe stabbed you — and he wasn’t planning on stopping there.

god wasn’t there. you would show up to his gates in this condition, and ask him why he let it happen. if god is real, why did he bear witness instead of saving you?

rafe doesn’t recall killing you.

he remembers grabbing, and dragging you down into wine cellar basement, but couldn’t be able to tell anyone what happened after that. all he knows your blood was quite literally on his hand, knife shaking in his grip.

your babydoll white dress was now stained with violence and scarlet red blood.

the sight should’ve made him sick, but it didn’t. he just stared at you, breathing heavy, and it didn’t strike him until a while later that he had killed you.

rafe cameron had killed the love of his life.

he only panicked when it came to how to dispose your body, take off any evidence that could trace back to him. he was more than willing to dump your body in the woods, let any gators eat at you for supper.

he tossed your body only hours later in the depths of the woods, and it didn’t take long until you were reported missing.

of course, he was questioned first. it was easy for him to play the concerned boyfriend, crying because he also hadn’t heard from you, saying he had been texting and calling you for hours.

your parents sobbed on the news and asking anyone to come forward with any information, that they’ll give up however much money for their child to come home.

rafe just stared numbly at the television screen, a cup of scotch in his hand.

your best friends, the pogues, sobbed for days, and even started a search party for you. rafe made sure to dig you levels down in those woods when the ground was wet enough to dig up, and cover you up.

sarah cameron had a feeling her brother had something to do with your ‘disappearance’ but it was only just a gut intuition, she couldn’t prove it. she always questioned why you got with her brother, always emphasizing how horrible and violent he was, but you would tell her, “you don’t know him like i do; you don’t know how much he loves me, and takes care of me.”

kiara knew how bad rafe was — for god sake, she momentarily went to the academy around the same time he was a senior. she knew he wasn’t destined to be a boyfriend, let alone even in a fucking relationship.

the boys of the group were beyond furious, the three wanting to round up and take ahold of rafe, beat some information out of him. but they knew you wouldn’t want that, and that rafe would easily get the police to arrest them.

however, months passed, and you slowly became a memory to not only the town, but to rafe himself. he went on with his days like nothing occurred, that he didn’t violently take the life of his girlfriend.

you weren’t on his mind anymore, and he didn’t have to worry about you anymore.

or so he thought.

karma and revenge go hand in hand together; they mingle and burst out, they make sure they arrive at the doorstep of the people who deserve it.

rafe always thought getting rid of you would avoid his downfall, but the murder of you was just the beginning of it all.

he slept peacefully like he had done for a while now, with him about to drown into a deep sleep. he rested with his hands laid atop of his stomach, comfortable and at solitude, a female whisper woke him up.

he peeked around, but saw no one. he assumed he was just sleep deprived and imagining things, his eyes closing again for sleep.

“do you feel sick yet?” the voice that sounded like yours came through, more clearer and visible. he shot up, and turned on his bedside lamp.

nothing. no one. not you.

why would he have to feel sick? you were gone, you were no longer a problem.

rafe shook it off, and was able to go back to sleep.

you were angry in the afterlife. you stared at rafe from heaven, trembling with rage and regret. a man you once loved, had acted as if you never existed. you adored him, and he disposed you like garbage.

you just wanted to be his, wanted him to tell you that you were his only; that he loved you as much as you did to him, that he would change and better himself for you.

that the violence would dissipate, and his rough hands would be nurtured with love and softness.

but no. that never came, and never would.

you were taunted by your murder, burning with the need to remind rafe of how sick he was.

your violent lover let you bleed before him, and without tending to your wounds or simply sitting with immediate regret, he soaked in his actions and dismissed it.

why couldn’t he be gentle? was him painting you blue and purple not enough? did he have to go as far as killing his lover to satisfy the disdain and vexation he held for you?

was that enough? was that enough to make you enough?

rafe’s nights slowly turned interrupted and sleepless. your voice was always there, and time to time, he thought he saw you standing in his bedroom, drenched in blood and with tears streaming down your face as you kept asking him, “do you feel sick yet?”

sick. not regretful. fucking sick.

sleep deprivation was catching up to him, making him more mean and angry than usual, more out of control.

the coke wasn’t even helping either, only making everything worse.

he was at barry’s trailer, snorting endless lines of the white powder, trying to shake off the sight of you from last night.

“country club, you good?” barry asked, and rafe didn’t respond. “you don’t seem well, bro.”

“just need this shit, okay?” rafe mumbled, separating another drop of cocaine. “just… just want to sleep, need it.”

barry didn’t want to push him with more questions, minding his own business as the blond haired boy snorted up excessive amounts of lines.

rafe ended falling asleep on his couch, barry mindlessly scrolling on his own phone as he laid down on his bed.

the cold air from the air conditioner ran around in the basement, making it more freezing and chilling than usual.

rafe could smell strawberry perfume, indicating you were around. he looked around, and saw nothing of you.

“where are you!” he screamed. “you can’t scare me, you bitch!”

“i’m not here to scare you,” you talked, rafe spinning around to find you perched in the corner of the basement. you careened closer, the dim light emphasizing on your mangled body.

rafe stared at your stomach, where immense stab wounds laid on it. he swallowed thickly, his breath shaking and jagged.

“do you feel sick?” you asked, and rafe looked up at you. he couldn’t move in this dream, he was paralyzed and a witness to your lacerated body.

nausea and despair washed over rafe, almost consuming him entirely.

you were finally face to face with him, your hair disheveled and bunched, face stained with tears and runny makeup, all for him to look at.

rafe could feel your physical touch, your soft hand grabbing his, and made his palm touch your abdomen. he almost fucking threw up.

you could see it, you could see he was wanting to vomit everywhere. “am i making you feel sick?” you asked, and rafe shivered, forcing his hand to put more pressure on your stomach, blood rushing out onto it. “am i making you feel sick?”

rafe screamed and lurched up, his eyes opening and alarming barry. “woah, what the fuck, rafe!” barry shouted, and rafe breathed rapidly, his heart thumping against his chest, a need to vomit.

rafe brought his face into his hands, trying to shake everything out of his hand.

your face, your touch, your blood — he felt it all. he was being reminded of you, when he didn’t want to.

barry kept asking him what was wrong, why he was crying, if he was okay, but all rafe could focus on was your voice asking, “am i making you feel sick?”

he was no longer immune to his destruction. he was becoming infected by it. you were a disease that he couldn’t treat, a parasite that ate at his brain.

he would never get rid of you — and you would make sure that he never did.

it was month seven without you, and you became a faded name to the outer banks. the only people who lived on to tell your name was your parents, and your best friends. the pogues carved your name into the chateau’s tree, a ceremonial bench placed at the high school.

your body or you weren’t ever discovered, but the police had listed you as deceased. you weren’t a runaway, you were eighteen, and had nothing to runaway for. when you couldn’t be traced anywhere on the grid, the police pronounced you dead, and that was that.

pictures of you and any sort of evidence remained in a cardboard box somewhere in the police station. you were left to rot in every way.

you were tired of being forgotten, but more exhausted that nobody knew that your boyfriend did this, and you probably weren’t going to be the first girl he killed.

rafe cameron needed to know what he did, and you wanted to do everything you could to make him drag himself to the police station, sit down, and say, “i killed her — and i enjoyed every fucking second of it.”

madness was becoming rafe. he was already an insane, depraved fuck before, but the lack of sleep and memories of the murder were catching up to him for good.

dark circles were around his eyes, hair greasy and messy, his body tired. he felt like he was going to snap any second.

he kept drinking, smoking weed and doing coke back to back, surprised that his heart didn’t give out yet.

a random exhaustion toll pushed over him, laying him down on the floor of his bedroom, and his eyes threatened to snap shut.

he didn’t want to sleep, he was afraid to. he was afraid to see you, with your bloody dress and sad face, making him touch your wounds.

rafe didn’t win the fight of sleeping, and he knocked out cold on his bedroom floor.

he wasn’t in the basement, he was in his bedroom, and he could hear your feet padding away to the front of the house, to your car.

oh, he was reliving the night. and he couldn’t stop. he couldn’t get out of the memory — he was facing everything.

he saw you bloody by his doorframe, and you tilted your head. “why are you doing this?” he asked, his voice sounding as if he was trapped in a void.

you only frowned. “so you know.”

like a reflex, rafe hurriedly rushed over to you outside before you could get away, seizing you away, and taking you to the basement.

he pinned you down to the ground, and screamed at you to stop crying, upset and angry you were willing to betray him when he did everything for you.

you were sobbing, but it became echoes and his ears rang, everything around him becoming silent except his own heavy breathing. he grabbed the knife that sat in his pocket, and he could see your eyes widen with fear to the sight of the object.

“rafe!” you screamed in the first stab. he hit you sharp and right in the abdomen.

he held his knife there for a second, like time was freezing him, and he felt a hot breath at the side of his face.

it was you.

“am i making you feel sick?” you asked, and rafe proceeded to stab you as you sobbed. you cried out his name, trying to fight away the knife, promising to be good and for him to stop.

“am i making you feel sick?”

another stab.

“am i making you feel sick?”

another stab.

“am i making you feel sick?”

another stab.

“am i making you feel sick?”

rafe couldn’t stop, he couldn’t control himself. he kept stabbing you as you screamed. he was a monster, with the inability to suppress his anger or violence.

“am i making you feel sick?”

another stab.

“am i making you feel sick?”

another stab.

“am i making you feel sick?”

another stab.

“am i making you feel sick?”

a part you thought you were making him feel sick because of how mutilated your body was; that the body he was once desired, was now filling him with disgust. you wondered if how butchered you looked, was making him uncomfortable and sick. he didn’t deserve your concern, but it happened anyway. was it making him sick?

rafe wanted to cry, but couldn’t. he was revisiting the person he was in this moment, and could see life vanish from your eyes, death taking you away.

he took one last stab, and held it there like the first one. you kneeled in front of him, looking over at your corpse for a moment before your eyes settled into his raging ones.

he held prolonged eye contact with you as you inched your face close to his, but kept a safe distance. you placed your hand on top of his murdering one, and with a blank face, lastly asking him, “am i making you feel sick?”

rafe broke eye contact with you to look at your deceased body, and realized and remembered this murder. your organs could be nearly seen, blood gushed and poured out everywhere, your body cold and still.

he dropped the knife, and eyed you. “i’m sorry.”

you shook your head, and sighed. “you will revisit this everyday as long as you live,” you said, sniffling. “all i wanted was to be yours, and be good enough, rafe. was i no good?”

he didn’t have an answer, and with that, you got up, staring over at your body. “i want you to know,” you chuckled softly to yourself, “i never blamed you for loving me the way that you did. i forgive you, especially since i’m happier where i’m at.”

“heaven?” rafe asked.

you nodded. “you won’t make it here, but i’ll still hope and wait that you do — because i love you too much to let god be angry with you too.”

“he’s an angry man?”

“he’s angry and unfair,” you responded. “like someone i know. i loved god, i loved you; two men who didn’t view me as much, who don’t deserve for me to believe in them.”

rafe went quiet, and enough time went by for you to disappear for good to let rafe cry, and scream. he cried and sobbed, dry heaving as he vomited everywhere to the sight of you.

he killed you, and as long as he kept it to himself, you would drive him mad and insane with the knowing of it.

rafe cameron confessed to your murder only hours later. he drove himself to the police station, and confessed to every detail, telling sheriff shope where your body was.

they found your maimed body in the exact location where rafe told them it was, your body already decomposing into near bones, eaten by critters and bugs.

the earth was consuming you.

he was hated forever, the town wanted him torched or given the death penalty. it would be a while until he got a trial.

your funeral could be proper with your body in a casket, given a rightful way to be down in the ground, protected and secured by a box stuffed with silk fabric.

you could see your mom cry, and you wish she wouldn’t. your father had to give the prayer at your funeral, your best friends sobbing, and hating themselves for not getting you away from rafe sooner.

however, your death was simply inevitable. if rafe didn’t kill you, your love for him would. he was everything to you.

even when he was murdering you — getting a vile satisfaction from it — you were worried about him, if you and your maimed body was making him feel more nauseous and sick than the actual murder was.

rafe would live with the knowing that you truly loved him, and he took your life every single day that he spent in a prison block cell.

and your ghost would continue to linger and haunt him, never letting him know peace and serenity as he never did to you.

[kitkatscabinet]

Are you there God?

Summary: A chance meeting in the dilapidated remains of your mother's old church ends up changing the trajectory of two lives

Pairing: Jason Todd x f! Reader

Word count: 2k

Warnings: 18+ minors dni, mentions of Christianity and nsfw themes. Unedited.

There’s a chill in the air, carrying with it the promise of an upcoming winter. The old church offers little reprieve from the harsh bite of the night air, the wind easily pushing through dilapidated wood. 

The many near burnt-out candles that flicker and cast dancing shadows across the darkened chapel emanate no heat. Nor does the flimsy jacket you’d hastily adorned before this impromptu midnight visit. 

Your fingertips tingle from the cool temperature, even as you exhale smoke from the cigarette you’d used one of the dying candles to light. 

Sacrilegious sure, you could perfectly picture the scowling faces of the nuns if they could see you, but it was one of those nights—the nights where you needed something, anything to take the edge off. 

And if nicotine was your preferred poison? Well better that than heroin you argued. 

Besides, if God existed then he had bigger issues to worry about than you sprinkling some ash on the floor of an old dilapidated church slated for condemnation. 

A tinge of sorrow hits you as you take in the poor state of what was once your mother’s church. You’ve no fond memories of the place, having hated being dragged along every Sunday by your more devout mother in your childhood. Now though, it’s one of your last remaining connections to your long passed mother. 

Gotham had never been an overtly religious city, you guessed it was hard to believe in a supposedly merciful God when you lived in such a shithole. And ever since the discovery of aliens, demons and the like, Gotham’s faith in anything divine had long since seemed to die out completely.

You stare up at the wooden Jesus hanging behind the pew contemplatively. It’s silly, you’re not even remotely religious but something compels you to speak to the empty space regardless. 

“Forgive me Father for I have sinned” That was how it went right? “It’s been… well forever since my last confession.” 

“I look like a priest to you darlin?” A startled screech leaves your lips at the unexpected masculine voice. Jolting, the butt of your cigarette flies from your hand, your free one clutching at your chest. 

“Jesus Christ!” You exclaimed, trying to calm your hammering heart. 

“Not quite.” The voice rumbles as a muscular figure steps into your view. Your eyes trail from booted feet up to thick thighs adorned with gun holsters that inspire some incredibly less-than-holy thoughts. But it’s the blazing red bat symbol stretched across the man’s chest that makes your mouth run dry, it's the Red Hood.

You’d never seen the gun-toting, violent, vigilante in person but it's unmistakable who’s standing across from you now.  Forcing your breathing to even out, you allow your muscles to relax as you lean back against the wooden pew. 

“Too pretty to be a priest.” You agree with his earlier statement, watching in amusement as the vigilante stutters in his steps. It was cute, watching a man of his renown and stature suddenly flounder in embarrassment. 

“Didn’t exactly take you to be the religious sort.” You say, gaze never once leaving his form as he slowly sits down on the creaking bench beside you. 

“I’m not.” He grunts.

“Me neither.” You confess, the two of you sitting in companionable silence as you stare up at the wooden Jesus that presided over the church. 

You don’t know what compels you to keep returning to that dilapidated old church (that’s a lie, you know damn well why), but like clockwork, every Sunday night you return. And every Sunday night, so does he. 

At first, he hadn’t been consistent. Why would he? The Red Hood had no reason to be skulking around a random church, nor did he have a reason to want to see you. 

Still, you kept going to that church, and unbeknownst to you, so did he. 

Since that first night, Jason Todd had been watching. What had started with concern over a young woman walking alone at night had morphed into curiosity into what he refused to acknowledge was a crush. 

Though he’s pretty sure not even the helmet had been able to hide the heart eyes he’d thrown your way when you admitted that Pride and Prejudice was your favourite novel. 

He’s late sometimes, bloodied and bruised, but three months following that first fateful meeting, the Red Hood goes out of his way to meet with a random civilian girl. 

It was nearing the two-month mark when everything changed. The both of you were forced to acknowledge the underlying tension of the odd and unexpected friendship that had formed in the twilight hours spent under the roof of a God neither of you believed in. 

It had been the first time you’d seen him injured, barely a scratch in Jason’s opinion, but the way you’d worked yourself into a frenzy of worry over him, the way you’d dropped to your knees before him and had taken his bloody knuckles into your gentle touch would forever be engraved into his mind. 

It’s at that moment that Jason realises God’s not there, because if so then surely he would have smitten Jason then and there for thinking such sinful thoughts in his house. Besides, as far as he was concerned, you were the only entity worth praying to anyway. 

He wants so badly to rip off the mask, secret identity be damned, and kiss you breathless. In the end, cowardice wins out, but Jason thinks back on that night often with regret. 

“Favourite hero go,” Red asks, turning to look at you with what you imagine is a smirk under his stupid red helmet. 

“It’s not you if that’s what you’re fishing for,” you grin, looking back up at the ceiling from where you lay on the wooden floor, protected from the dust and splinters by an old picnic blanket. 

The terrifying sort-of-crimelord lying beside you scoffs in offence like the big baby he is. 

“Ok then who is it?”

“Wonder Woman.”

“Oh that’s such a basic bitch fucking answer.” You know he’s joking, Red’s made it clear that despite his distaste for Batman he respects the hell out of Wonder Woman. Still, you entertain him, rolling your eyes dramatically. 

“Fine, you wanna know the real answer? It’s Black Canary, but specifically when she was rocking that full-body black leotard with the mesh cutouts on the legs and the cropped bomber jacket.”

There’s a stunned silence that follows your passionate answer before Red bursts into laughter. 

“Oh, fuck you,” you quip, though there’s no actual heat behind your words. 

“You wish.” Any witty retort instantly dies on your lips and you’re suddenly distinctly aware of the heat emanating off his shoulder which brushes lightly against yours. 

Red has stopped laughing, coughing to clear his throat as you suddenly wish for the floor to swallow you whole. For anything to distract you from the way your mind suddenly races, filled with various images of different positions you could achieve right there in front of Jesus. 

“Right, well, I should probably go. Bad guys to catch and all.” It’s painfully awkward and so is your lacklustre response. 

“Oh, yeah … yeah.”

Neither of you move though and you don’t think you’ve ever been more hyper-aware of your body and the one lying next to you in your life. You quickly sit up, the vigilante mimicking your movements. 

“So um —”

“Well I — ” The both of you speak at once, you motion for him to go first and he clears his throat once more. 

“I should probably go now. Bye.” With that, he’s gone so fast he might as well have been the flash, leaving you alone to stew in the mortification and arousal that’s worked its way into your belly. 

A scream of frustration rips its way out of your throat when your mind conjures up the very graphic image of you straddling one of Red’s delicious thighs and refuses to drop the line of thought. 

Little did you know, Jason had needed to cut his patrol short for the same reason. A cold shower having practically screamed his name. 

Footsteps echoed up the aisle towards where you were sat in the front pew, as had become a tradition between you and your vigilante, playfully you turn towards the source. “Hey Red, you’re late — ” the words die on your tongue, mouth running dry as you take in a trio of figures, none of whom are the Red Hood. 

The fear must show on your face as you shakily stand, and try to create space from the ominously grinning men. 

“What’s the matter darlin?” One of them drawls, and you want to throw up at the use of the petname, that was what he called you. 

“Look, I don’t know what you want but my friend will be here soon.” You mentally curse yourself when you notice the way your voice quivers, and the men clearly pick up on it too. 

“I wouldn’t count on it.” Fear nearly roots you to your place at the surety in his words, but you live in Gotham and Red Hood has made it his mission to get you to be able to defend yourself. 

You don’t think, you just move, and when the nearest guy reaches out to grab your arm you knee him in the balls. He goes down with a howl and you think you break the second guy's nose if the crunch is any indication. 

The unmistakable click of a gun’s safety has you stopping in your tracks once more.  “That’s it, just settle down now. Wouldn’t want anything to happen to that pretty face of yours now would we?”

Tears well up in your eyes but you refuse to let them fall, unwilling to give them the satisfaction. Goon #2 uses the opportunity to grab your arm in a bruising grip before a blow to the cheek leaves you reeling, black dots dancing across your vision as you struggle to regain your senses. 

“Speak for yourself, the little bitch broke my fucking nose.” 

“What do you want from me?” You croak when you finally regain the ability to speak, ignoring the metallic taste of blood on your tongue. 

“From you? Nothing. It’s not personal darling, but the word around here is that the Red Hood is sweet on ya, and well, I don’t appreciate the way he’s been nosing about my business lately.”

You should be terrified of the implications of that statement, about what these men will do to you, and you are — but you can’t stop thinking about how Red will inevitably blame himself for anything that happens to you. 

You close your eyes, trying to make peace with what is likely the hour of your death. You’re in a house of God, you should be praying to him, and yet all you can think of is Red. Your Red.

A gunshot rings out, followed by another, and another. When seconds pass and you feel no pain you open your eyes, just in time to witness the Red Hood reaching gently for your face. Despite yourself, you flinch slightly when his gloved hand brushes lightly against your cheek. 

He reels back as if stricken, and immediately you wish to rectify your mistake. With a sob, you launch yourself into his arms, ignoring what is probably the corpses of the three men lying on the ground. 

“You saved me,” you mumbled against his chest, relishing in how safe you felt encased in his arms. 

“Always.” There’s such surety in that single word, such devotion that you believe him. 

“Red — ” you mumble, pulling away to meet what you expect to be the whites of his mask, only to gasp when you find yourself looking into swirling pools of blue-green. 

“Jason,” the whispered name is a confession to you alone, though you barely have time to ponder the new information before a pair of lips descend upon your own. Your eyes flutter closed once more, hands wrapping around his neck to pull him impossibly closer. 

You’ll deal with the after-effects of what you just experienced later, what almost happened to you, for now, you’re content to remain absorbed in Red’s — in Jason’s arms.

The man who'd been there when God wasn't.

[zweiginator]

The small town Patrick request you just did was amazing im gonna need you to do a part 2 if you what like they can’t get enough of each other, they’re sneaking around and she feels really guilty about it but she can’t stop. she wants him to properly ask her to be his girlfriend at least because it feels like she’s disappointing god. Idk whatever you feel comfortable with.

after you and patrick make out in his car, there's no stopping. full speed ahead, you keep seeing him. patrick makes fun of you. little stubborn god-fearing church girl sneaking around with patrick zweig. the same patrick who is high half the summer. who watches porn you would be disgusted to know even exists.

it's easy to sneak around with patrick when your father has urged you to continue lessons. patrick refuses his money, so your mother insists he come to dinner once a week, after your second lesson.

so on sundays you go to church and wave sweetly to patrick, the zweig family. you sit politely for the service and patrick and you share glances as you say your prayers. and then you eat lunch and take a shower once you get home. patrick picks you up at 2 on the dot. he drives around and you do practice for thirty or so minutes. but after that--anything is fair game.

you sit on his lap right on the court sometimes. nobody comes around in such a small town. patrick gropes you, pushes his hands under your skirt to tease you. kisses your neck, pulls your hair a little. brushes his lips softly against yours. you just want him to kiss you. he hasn't fucked you yet, you wouldn't allow it.

but how he talks to you makes you feel filthy. like you already have.

"i bet your little pussy is so fucking tight. would feel like heaven."

it makes you squirm on his lap and cars are driving by; it could be anyone, in a town where everyone knows everyone. but he keeps you there. touches you just enough to work you up. he wants you to fold. to yank him towards you and shove your tongue against his. to grind against his palm. you always fold for him.

and then he takes you home at 5. you eat an early dinner and patrick sits across from you. says you're doing such a great job. you're a fast learner. he can't believe you've never done this before. you're not sure what he's referring to. tennis or your sinful foreplay.

but you keep your composure. your father wouldn't allow you to continue lessons if he thought for even a second that patrick was attracted to you or you to him.

so you nod, and patrick compliments your mother's cooking and asks for seconds if he can have them.

after he leaves your mother gushes about him.

"he's really something else." she says, handing you a dish to scrub. "so handsome and polite!"

you choke a little, then nod fervently. "he's very nice."

"you don't think he's handsome?"

it feels like a trick.

"i've never noticed, i guess." a huge lie. you feel pangs of guilt rising, twirling ivies around your veins. "i really like tennis. i think im learning a lot."

your mom retreats. "that's good, honey."

that night patrick asks if you want to sneak out. you say no. and then after 1, you're in his car.

"where are we going?"

patrick takes a drag from his cigarette. you like how his jaw tenses. "to my house. my parents are out of town. visiting family friends before my sister goes to college."

"why didn't you go?" you tear your cuticles.

"i have lessons to teach."

he turns into his driveway. you've never been to his house; it's huge. vast with what seems like a mile long road to get to the house itself.

"what are we doing here?"

you're so innocent. you act like every time is your first.

"just hanging out." patrick gets out of the car.

you're in the kitchen now.

"do you want a drink? a shot?" you're sat on the kitchen island and patrick waves around a bottle of vodka.

"i shouldn't."

"come on. we'll do one together."

"how will you drive me home? my dad would kill you." you cross your arms.

patrick takes his shirt off. you've never seen him shirtless but you gulp. hair peppers his chest and trails down his naval before stopping abruptly at the waistband of his shorts.

"killing me isn't very holy."

"neither is drinking."

"neither is letting me touch your cunt." he pours two shots.

the word sounds vicious coming out of his mouth. you can't take your eyes off of patrick's body.

he hands you one and you clink them together and take them. your face quivers and a shudder rolls down your spine. patrick laughs at you and you feel the liquor down there.

"you feel it?" patrick asks.

you do feel a little tipsy. and you do want him really bad.

you nod and spread your legs. patrick can see your panties from beneath your skirt.

"what are you doing?" patrick stands between your legs, running a finger up your shin.

you shrug.

"i dunno." your face is hot.

"do you ever touch yourself?" patrick bunches your skirt up around your waist. your panties are soaked.

"no."

"you've never had an orgasm?" patrick's thumb runs over your clothed pussy.

you shake your head. your arms are wobbly from holding yourself up.

patrick pushes your panties to the side. he's never really touched you like this.

"this okay?"

no.

"yes." you nod.

you're so wet you're practically dripping. patrick runs a finger through your folds and presses against your clit and you grab onto his shoulder for purchase. you didn't know this really felt that good. because then he's pushing his middle finger into you and it stings but in a way that makes you beg. more, more, more.

"bad fucking girl. letting me fuck your pussy with my fingers."

you moan against his mouth and move forward to kiss him but he moves his head back.

"say it."

you mewl. patrick rubs harder circles over your clit. "say what--" your words are airy.

"say you're a bad girl. ask god to forgive you." his fingers stop moving and you realize he's not going to give you more until you say it.

you start to move your hips but he stops you.

"i'm--" patrick wiggles his fingers, just once. shows you the feeling you're missing so bad. "im a bad girl. please--god, forgive me--"

patrick grabs your jaw and moves his fingers faster and faster. expertly. you try not to think about how many girls he's done this to. it's easy when you feel a weird pit in the bottom of your stomach, blossoming like a dandelion. a weed that shouldn't be there but maybe it's not so bad--and then you feel it. your first orgasm. it has to be.

"patrick--oh my god--" you grind your cunt against his hand and he talks you through it. says you're perfect. says look at you, good girl.

but you're not perfect and you're not good. you feel awful and you need to stop this now.

but patrick is breathing heavy and his hair is sweaty, matted against his forehead. he's hard. so you untie his shorts.

do unto others as you would have them do unto you.

[myfictionaldreams]

Day 4: Authority/Power Difference - Lee Bodecker

Summary: He was the sheriff, happily married and your dad’s boss. So why was he leaning down to kiss you in the middle of his office?

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, dubious content, virgin!reader, coercion, innocence kink, authority kink, age gap, cheating, possessive, oral (f receiving), fingering, manipulation

masterlist 📚 

kinktober masterlist😈 

AO3 Link 

“Hello? Is anybody here? Dad?” you called into the darkened police station, fear beginning to tickle the fine hair on the back of your neck. The door had been unlocked, and your father told you to visit at this time so he could safely drive you home. So where was everyone? Even at this late hour, the receptionist wasn’t here to greet you like usual.

Walking further into the dark building, you finally released the breath you’d been holding as a light shone from the end of the hallway. Your steps were quiet as you approached the office that you had only been into a handful of times, but you assumed that your father was probably waiting in there, considering there were no other signs of life around.

“Dad-... Sheriff?” you were startled to find the Sheriff sitting at his desk, hunched over, leaning closely to the piece of paper he was writing on like he was struggling to see what was there but refusing to wear any glasses. In his other hand was a sweet of some sort, half lifted to his mouth but momentarily paused on route as he heard your innocent call out.

Sheriff Lee Bodecker had always been in your life; he’d started as your father’s best friend, and then, as they moved up the ranks in the police, Lee became the sheriff, and your father was the deputy. It wasn’t a rare occasion to find the two men sitting on the couch, drinking beers and watching the football when you’d arrive home for school.

Lee always felt like a protector for you, especially as he always seemed to look out for you more than your siblings, which only helped to develop your crush on him. It was thoroughly inappropriate and something you’d tried to pray for forgiveness during the Sunday services at church. It soon became something that consumed your very being. He was all you could think about during every waking hour, and you soon found any excuse to see him or spend time with the older man, which was only made worse when the Sheriff’s wife would turn up and reality dawned on you.

This was one of the main motivations to attend College in the next town over from Knockemstiff. It had been hard to adjust but with each day, you thought of the Sheriff less and less but then it would all come cascading back when you saw him in your home on your first day back for the holidays.

“Sugar? What are you doing here? It’s too late for you to wander around all by your lonesome.” Lee’s concerned, husky voice disrupted your thoughts as you awkwardly shifted your weight from one foot to the other in the doorway.

“I thought my Dad would be here. He said he’d drive me home at this time, but I can’t find him.” As you explained your predicament, you crossed your arms, shielding your body before biting your lower lip.

The Sheriff’s eyes seemed to linger on the spot for a second before he placed his pen onto the desk and sat back in his leather chair with a creak. “Ah well, I think that might be my doing. I insisted that everyone leave so they could go and watch football. He must have forgotten that he was taking you home”.

Your shoulders visibly drop at hearing the news, dread sitting heavy in your stomach at the thought of the long walk home that you were able to do. Looking at the ground as you spoke, your feet began to turn your body in the opposite direction, “Thank you for letting me know, Sheriff. I’m sorry for taking up your time. Have a good night”.

“Now, wait just a minute, will you? Where are you going? You can’t surely think of walking home on your lonesome now. Not at this time of night; you don’t know who’ll be watching and waiting in the darkness”. The Sheriff was now standing as you turned back to face him, the fearful feeling now changing to a nervous fluttering at the prospect of being alone with the man you adored most in the world and had been trying to get over.

Your tongue seemed heavy as it rested in your mouth as you could not think of a verbal response, so you simply nodded to his suggestion, stepping back into his dimly lit office. Lee stepped closer, holding his arm towards the smaller leather chair facing his desk. “Come now, Sweet thing, take a seat. I’ll just finish my paperwork and then drive you home”.

Following his instructions, you sat in the chair, your heart seemingly missing a beat as he tucked it in chivalrously. You played nervously with the edge of your sky-blue dress, which you now realised matched the colour of his eyes that hadn’t seemed to leave you since you’d arrived.

You avoided his piercing eyes altogether, deciding instead to look around the familiar room for any changes since you’d last peaked in. This was a wrong decision, though, as your eyes glanced upon a new photo nailed to the wall of him and his wife. You wished the ground would open up so you could fall into a hole, especially as your body warmed in arousal at seeing him and then chilled in shame as his wife. He was very, very married for many years with his high school sweetheart. This is the main reason you would go to confessionals and pray for your sins; they were horrible, nasty thoughts that a good religious girl shouldn’t ever contemplate.

Straightening your posture, your knees pressed together like you were trying to hide your arousal. Even though that wasn’t the sign that Lee would notice, he was more focused on your lower lip, tucked in between your teeth. It was a nervous habit but one that also followed whenever he would casually touch your arm innocently or say a particular pet name that had your eyes averting in an obvious sign of endearment.

“How’s college? I hope you’ve not been missing me too much?” his mouth twitched into a smirk as your eyes flicked to the floor to try and hide your reaction just as he had anticipated.

Swallowing to try and moisten your parched mouth, you sheepishly smiled at his obvious joke, looking up through your lashes in his direction as you tucked your chin into your chest.

“It’s um, it’s going great. I’m really enjoying it. I’m glad it’s not too far away.” Your voice was light and timid as you spoke, now feeling confident enough to watch his reactions. Lee nodded slowly, his expressions neutral but also interested in what you had to say as he locked his fingers together and rested them on his soft stomach.

“You didn’t answer my other question”, he noted, his tone lowering as his head tilted to the side.

Your heart seemed to skip a beat in your chest as you had to look away from his gaze, losing any confidence you had developed. Rubbing your nimble fingers along the hem of your dress by your knees, you casually mumbled, “Yes, I’ve missed you”.

If you’d looked up, you would have seen the shit-eating, knowing grin that now decorated the Sherffi’s face. He loved nothing more than seeing you squirm.

Sitting forward until he was resting his elbows on his desk, he continued to see how far this could go, mainly because Lee missed you, and he needed to be close to his sweet girl. “That’s what I like to hear”, he continued, “Now I’ve heard a lot of rumours of what kids these days get up to whilst at College; you haven’t been getting into any trouble over there, have you?”

Your breath hitched, eyes unblinking with fear. “No”, your lower lip trembled slightly, “I’ve been good”. This was the truth; you hadn’t been in any trouble for the most part, but your most significant failure was that you were easily coerced into things because of your fear of being left out.

Lee’s eyes squinted to show his disbelief, noticing how your body stiffened. “Are you sure about that? So you’ve not been to any party’s?”

Staring a hole into the carpet, you tried to think of a lie or simply say no and have him believe you, but it wasn’t in your personality to lie. “I’ve only been to one, but nothing bad happened”, your voice was hardly audible to the Sherrif as you explained.

“So, you’re telling me nothing bad happened at a college party?” he leaned back in his seat, “You must think I’m stupid or something, Sweetheart”.

Your eyes widened as your head snapped up to him, fingers clenching the dress painfully, “No! I don’t think you’re stupid at all, Sherrif! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for it to sound like that”.

Lee looked away disappointed, and you panicked further, worried that he would tell your father, whom you’d promised to stay out of trouble and not go to parties or hangouts. Waiting with bated breath for him to respond, you watched as he began to think of question after question to find out more, and you had to answer, even if you didn’t want to.

“Who do you go with to these illegal parties?” Lee asked with a raised eyebrow, his hands forming into fists on the desk.

Hating the way he added more manipulation and gaslighting by describing these parties as illegal, you answered, “Friends”.

“Friends, huh? Girlfriends or boyfriends?”

The apples of your cheeks warmed as you looked away once more, “Just friends”.

“So boyfriends”, he deducted from your reaction. “Should I be worried about these boys?”

This question confused you, trying to understand why he should be worried about your male friends.

“Um, only one friend of mine is a boy. He’s called Callum; he’s nice, but then there’s Amy and Chantelle-”

“Callum? Bet he’s only been treating you nicely because he wants one thing: you know all boys that age think the same way, " Lee interrupted your list of friends.

“No, not  Callum, he’s only ever been a gentleman to me”.

“Has he kissed you?”

Lee’s question caught you off guard, and once more, you were looking away, body warming but through embarrassment this time as you tried to hide your obvious answer that yes, you and Callum had kissed. The Sherrif tutted at your reaction and slowly stood up from his chair, walking around his desk until he was in front of you, his thick fingers pushing against your chin, forcing your face to look back up at him.

“You know, kissing leads to sinful things; it's not proper to do it with some random nobodies”.

“He’s not a nobody, and it was only once. We haven’t done anything else, I promise, Sherrif.” Your body was beginning to tremble with fear.

“Ah, but even once is not right, especially with those lot in College. I’d hate to think of his dirty hands all over my Sweet Angel. You aren’t meant to be touched by anyone else”, he murmured the last part more to himself as the pad of his thumb grazed over the tip of your chin.

Your eyebrows furrowed at his piercing gaze, the blues of his iris’ looking so deep they almost appeared black. “I’m so sorry, Sherrif, please don’t tell anyone, especially my Daddy, I’m a good girl, I promise”.

As Lee’s thumb brushed your bottom lip, he said, “MY good girl”.

Everything seemed to freeze: your heart, your breaths, the world outside the police station as you wondered, “What?”

Lee lowered his top half, bending over until you could smell the cheap aftershave that he wore and the hint of leather from his jacket that hung on the back of his office chair. “I said, you’re MY good girl, aren’t you?”

Before you could answer, his lips pressed against yours for a couple of seconds before he stood back up, his fingers still holding your chin in place. Your heart resumed beating, but only because it now pounded so loudly in your ears that you were sure he could hear.

“I… I thought you said kissing was sinful” was your only response to his touch. Fixing on that one fact rather than the wrong things like the fact that he was married, the sheriff, your 'father's boss, your father'ss friend and significantly older than you. No, none of those concerns alarmed your conscience because that selfish part of you was reeling with the fact that you were actually living something you’d daydreamed for so long, even though it was thoroughly wrong.

“I’m the Sheriff; nothing I do is sinful, Sweetheart. I’ve paid for my sins, and don’t you remember? You’re my Sweet Pea, aren’t you? You always have been, and always will be”.

For some reason, the possessiveness seemed to remind you of who you were talking to as you stood, moving out of his touch and stepping away, putting some space between the two of you.

“You’re married”, you stated, trying to sound confident to remind him of his promise to his wife, but your voice wobbled.

Lee’s shoulders rolled back as he stepped closer. Instinctively, you stepped back until you were flush against the wall, his arm resting next to your head. “Yeah, I’m married, but my wife does worse. I’ve done enough good deeds for ten lifetimes. I deserve to enjoy something once in a whilst, and there’s nothing I want to do more than enjoy you”.

“I’ll tell my Daddy” you try and threaten him even though you’d been desperate not to have your father be involved in any sort of way, but once more, you were just trying to hold onto that last little string of hope before you sinned.

“What’s this?” Lee asked as he pointed to the star on his shirt.

“Your sheriff badge”.

“Exactly. Sheriffs have more authority than the deputies, isn’t that right, Sugar? In fact, I could arrest your Daddy for whatever I liked, and no one could stop me”.

His dominance and threats were only doing the opposite as his words sparked out the little angel on your shoulder telling you to do the right thing and walk away because, in reality, you wanted to stay. Your silence is answer enough for him as he continues to lean over you.

“Do I make myself clear?” You nod, pressing your lips together as he leans closer, eyes travelling over your body before he decides he wasn't waiting anymore and kisses you again. This was more to show his clear sign of dominance as it was hard, almost hurting with the force as his body pushed yours into the wall.

“Tell me to stop, go one, say the wards, and I’ll drop you home”, he mumbled against your lips, trying to hold back some kind of restraint, but the two of you both knew it was too late as you didn’t tell him to stop.

“Did that boy ever touch you?” he asked, pulling back so that he could see the shake of your head; no, you were still a virgin. Lee looked relieved, “Good, now get on my desk”.

You moved numbly across the room, half in shock and excitement as he moved a few items to give you space to sit on the edge. Lee moved your knees further apart so he could fit his body between yours. Everything was happening so quickly. Your surroundings felt fuzzy and disorientating, hardly being able to get your bearings before the sheriff was on his knees, pushing your skirt up until he's staring at your plain white panties.

Realisation dawned on you then as to what exactly was happening. It wasn’t just a kiss, and he was expecting things that weren’t supposed to be done by unmarried people. You knew what sex was from people talking in College, but you were still a virgin and highly uneducated on the matter, having not even touched yourself yet.

Again, you were internally battling with yourself to push him away, these touches were supposed to be done by your husband, but there was also no one else you trusted more than the Sheriff, even if he was manipulative.

You didn’t stop him as he pulled the edge of your panty aside to stare at your pussy, something that was utterly vulnerable and erotic at the same time. Especially as he released a deep moan that caused his warm breath to wisp across your delicate labia, cooling the moisture that had formed there from just being in the same room as him.

Lee’s tongue pressed against this area, applying enough pressure that he slipped beneath and found the source of the juices. You cringed at the new feeling, not sure how to react, but he held you to the desk by wrapping his big hands around your thighs and hips.

He circled your cunt with the tip of his tongue, teasing the skin and feeling you clench around him, reacting to the touches and then deciding he was done playing. He didn’t penetrate, instead, he was pushing towards your clit, sucking on it harshly and savouring the screaming moan that you couldn’t hold back, your hips jerking wildly to escape the overwhelming feeling, but he held you firmly.

As if on instinct, your hands tried to grip his hair for support, but it was short enough that your fingers just slipped through, so instead, you held onto the edge of the desk until your fingers ached.

Lee’s grip on your hips was sure to leave bruises as he continued to stimulate your bundle of nerves, sucking on it in bursts, sending firey tingles through your abdomen and tips of your thighs. It was hard to explain the feeling of being pleasured and touched in this way, especially by someone who definitely should not have their face pressed between your thighs, but the more he did it, the more you could feel yourself relaxing and allowing him to continue.

The Sheriff ate like a starved man, immediately addicted to your sweet taste, even moving away for a second to compliment, “You taste so much better than her”, he grunted, referring to his wife.

This caused a pathetic whine to come from you as he began to lick repeatedly against your clit, which was when something began to change. It was like your body was tightening, as if something was wrong.

“Wait, Sheriff stop, something is wrong, I.. I can feel something happening to me” he smirked against your pussy, knowing precisely what was happening, but to please you, he pulled away and thrilled at the sound of your whimpers as the feeling faded and realised you shouldn’t have asked him to stop.

However, this was Lee’s plan, to have you right on the edge before moving further. Looking up at you whilst still on his knees, he raised one of his hands to your mouth and offered you his middle finger, ordering you to “Suck”.

You did, finding the motion embarrassing and degrading but making sure to thoroughly suck and wet the digit before he pulled it out.

“This might feel uncomfortable, but I promise, I’ll make you feel good”, Lee explained to your confusion. However, you didn’t care as his face returned to mush into your sensitive area, gently lapping against your clit, circling it until it was throbbing and aching once more. Then you were greeted with intense pressure from your hole as he began to push his middle finger in.

You’d never been touched there, even by yourself,, so even his one finger was a stretch, but then your whole body was tensing as he seemed to reach a barricade just as he reached his first knuckle.

Lee didn’t stop and pushed through your formed hymen, snapping the thin piece of skin, which caused a sharp stabbing pain to spike through your cunt soon eased to an ache either way, it caused you to scream out and try and pull away. He continued to pleasure your clit, which helped with the pain to ease, and thankfully, he didn’t move his thick finger, just simply kept it inside of you, getting used to its size, but that was enough stimulation to have that tightening feeling to return to your body.

With his one hand, he held you down firmly, listening and watching your reactions as he began to pulse his sucks against your clit until he knew you were on the edge.

For a moment, you contemplated just what was going on; here you were, in the Sheriff’s office, sitting on his desk, looking at a picture of his wife on the wall, ignoring your father’s office just outside of his door as his best friend made you orgasm for the very first time. It was intense and caused your body to flush with heat and tremble as your pussy walls contracted around his finger, the area already sensitive from the recent hymen break, but he didn’t stop until your cries of pleasure turned to exhausted gasps of air.

Your eyes were half-lidded as you continued to shake, sure that your legs were weak and could not support your weight right now. Instead, you watched the Sheriff stand, wiping his middle finger which had streaks of fresh red blood on, onto his black work trousers, but you were too much in a blissful state to truly understand what had happened.

Lee’s chin gleamed from your juices as he licked his lips, standing over you again and asking, “Who do you belong to?”

“I belong to you”, you said without a moment's hesitation.

He gave a satisfying nod, “That’s right, and this isn’t going to be the last time we’re alone, do you understand? Now I’ve had a taste of you, I don’t want to stop”.

Shivering at his declaration, your panties were repositioned back to normal, be it a bit more uncomfortable now due to the concoction of fluids that now seeped onto them. Lee held his hand out for you to take, helping to stand on unstable legs as he then gathered his coat from the back of his chair, planning to take you home. There was a small part of you that was sad that he hadn’t decided to take your virginity completely but as you stared at the picture of his wife on the wall, anxiety began to creep into you soul at the mess you’d just managed to get yourself into.

[tookthe-405]

VBS

Prologue :

“Sun bleached Flies” ~ Ethel cain

DAILY CLICK🍉🍉

DONATIONS AND INFOS🇵🇸

rebel!ellie x fem!reader

PLAYLIST

summary: you grew up religious without a choice, and in summer you would get send to vacation bible school. The camp always felt like prison to you, until a very interesting girl appeared.

c/w: smut in future chapters!!! , religious trauma, homophobia

1,1 k words

24/11/2004

Age 16 Reader pov:

"And as the Bible says in Micah 7:7: But as for me, I watch in hope for the Lord, I wait for God my savior, my God will hear me"

Your eyes burn, not because you are crying, but because of the very bright spotlights that are shining on Pastor Tobias. The youth lesson takes place every Wednesday evening and today's topic is faith and trust.

The paper and pen in your hand feels heavy and rough, you should have already written down what you’ve learned new, but your head is just so empty today.

As it has been so often in the last few weeks, which makes you feel guilty and ashamed again. You stare at the blank page and don't feel anything, that you could put into words and on paper. You can think of many questions that you would like to ask, but are too embarrassed for.

"hey is everything ok?"

your head follows the whispers next to you. Hazel looks at you worried. This girl is the only reason you enjoy being here, and there is no judgment in her look.

“I’m a bit stuck on this today” you whisper back and point at the empty paper, she nods.

you could feel the eyes of the employes. When sermons are held it is always very quiet and all these people you grew up with are listening to the man in front of you, the faintest whispers can be heard. You quickly concentrate again and look ahead.

"We're closing the sermon today with a prayer and the requests that you gave us"

On the board next to him are various prayer requests that the young people brought to the lesson. But a few of them catch your eye more than the others.

- Please release me from the shame within me - Let me grow with your word - The temptations of the evil one shall not harm me

The prayer lasts 7 minutes and your mind keeps wandering. When you pray, you always forget where you are and feel a bit stuck in your head. That's why you've given up the habit of closing your eyes, which helps you to ease the restlessness in which your inner self is bursting. You can't get rid of it at anyway. You observe the people around you a bit. You know every face all too well, the reason for that includes going to a the private Christian school and the many prayer evenings that your parents and siblings like to attend to.

When praying, each face shows a small part of the person. Some look deep in thought, others look as if they were about to burst into tears at any second and one or the other sit on their seats with a contented and calm expression on their faces. You would give a lot to feel whatever they are feeling.

Hazel's expression reminds you of a frightened animal that has just been captured. She was one of the fearful prayers.

All you wanna do, is try to get her out of this state and keep her safe with you, but you know that you can't do that for her. Only the god she prays to can do that.

"Amen"

“Amen” everyone says together and the word leaves your lips quietly.

Everyone stands up from their seats and whispers spread. You know all these people and you knew from your private life that some of them weren't good people, but the church seemed to change that completely. At least for a short time. As soon as the free time begins, you notice that the facades are falling again. This has always confused you a bit.

Two years ago, so many people were converted here, that the church was rebuilt and there were now many different rooms for different concerns. There was the sermon Hall, which is full every Sunday and is used for worship services. There is also a kitchen and dining room with couches. One floor higher was the room for the young people, which is used every Wednesday to pray, study and spend time together. A few couches and many chairs with tables.

The whole youth group is there and a few people start to play games. Some have a religious background, some don't.

After the sermon, you and Hazel go from the sermon hall to the youth room, where a few people from your class have already made themselves comfortable on the couch and seats. At school you always talk to Hazel, who is a very social person and that's why you are forced to talk to other people as well.

Samuel and another boy are talking as you both sit down on chairs, and the whole group seems interested in the conversation.

"My mother said that, Pastor Tobias told her on Sunday"

"What's going on?" Hazel's gentle voice asks Samuel.

He excitedly turns away from the other boy and addresses Hazel.

"My mother said that we were going to a camp this summer, we young people, there was a lake, forest, church, everything"

“Do we have to camp?” Asks Kate, a girl in a class below you.

The thought of having to go camping immediately puts you off, but you'd have to go anyway if it actually takes place.

After all, Samuel talks a lot but it doesn't always reflect reality.

"She said there is a youth hostel with lots of rooms, but they are shared."

You could live with that. Hazel nudges you with a smile. Now the excitement hits you too, if you and Hazel are in the same room together, swimming in the lake all day long and there were going to be funny events, it will definitely be pretty fun.

You smile back excitedly and the other people around you seem to be looking forward to it too.

“Have you heard of Anne Marie’s husband?”

The group becomes quiet and looks at Sofia, with a thoughtful look and crossed arms.

"A few people from church mentioned something but I don't think it's true," Naveah says next to her and rolls her eyes, but Sofia shakes her head confidently and leans forward.

“My brother said it was true, he was there at the prayer meeting for him” Naveah’s face falls and that made you a little nervous.

"what?" ask someone, but you won't know who.

"They prayed that his homosexual desires would disappear"

The room generally seems to become a little quieter; the other groups of friends also seemed to have heard the word, which had probably never been uttered here before.

The tense atmosphere spreads through the room like poison and you hold your breath.

" I didn`t knew he had such disgusting thoughts"

you are too shocked to notice who said it, but you still clearly hear the others agree.

“The sin is disgusting, but we should pray for him,”

Austin decides, but his gaze seems a little concernt.

After the prayer you feel emptier than before, almost as if you had been sucked dry. Your thoughts left more marks and you knew what you would pray for tonight before you went to sleep.

INTERACT WITH THE LINKS ABOUT PALESTINE 🇵🇸

a/n: this is a bit more angsty and can trigger some people so pls read the warnings!! I felt a bit uncomfortable too writing it, but it’s still important to talk and write about it, because it is reality!!!

!!!Pls Reblog and like!!!

[acewritesfics]

Mama Bear | Tommy Shelby

⚠️ THIS IS A REPOST FROM MY MAIN BLOG @/DLMLUFICS. UNFORTUNATELY, I HAVE TO DO IT THIS WAY. MORE INFO IN MY PINNED POST

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Nora + Bess

Request: No but @runnning-outof-time's interest kept me encouraged and motivated to write it.

Fic Type: Imagine

Warnings: Swearing. Smoking. Threats being made. Inspector Campbell being a prick. Slight Grace bashing. Nora protecting her family and being a mama bear. Someone gets called a whore [hint: it's not Lizzie]. A six-year-old in the pub. Tommy and Nora's daughter's name in this is Elizabeth but she gets called Bess or Bessie. Also crayola crayons came out in 1903 but were invented in 1902, useless fact, I know... 

Word Count: 1,971

TOMMY SHELBY MASTERLIST || TAG LIST SIGN-UP

"Give Tommy and Elizabeth my love," Nora’s mother, Marion, tells her as she stands up to leave. "Hopefully I'll see you all at church on Sunday." 

"You know I can't make any promises, mother," She says also standing up. "I'll make sure to give Tommy and Bessie your love," She adds as her mum pulls her in for a hug.  

"I really wish you would stop calling your daughter Bessie," Marion sighs as she pulls away from her daughter. 

"Don't start, we had such a lovely lunch together," She frowns at her, already felling annoyed at her mothers insistence to see them on Sunday.. "And you know she prefers Bessie over Elizabeth." 

"I'll see you Sunday," Marion says ignoring what she said as she leaves the restaurant. 

"I doubt it," Nora mumbles to herself as she picks up her purse. Sunday is hers and Tommy’s day where they solely focus on there daughter. No outside family or work. It’s just the three of them and it’s been that way since Bess was born. 

As Nora goes to leave she sees someone who makes her blood boil in the worst kind of way. Walking over to him, her mind goes back to the events of the day before. Ada and Polly had taken Bessie and Finn to the park for a few hours and had been spotted by Inspector Campbell who grabbed Bessie's arm and threatened to have her removed from her's and Tommy's custody.  

When Tommy and Nora arrived home from the races, a frightened Bessie ran up to them crying about a man telling Auntie Polly and Auntie Ada that he was going to take her away from them. When Polly explained to them what happened, Nora and Tommy were about to go murder the Irish inspector. But reassuring their daughter that mummy and daddy would never let that happen was more important.  

Polly told them that she made sure he knew he was crossing a line and that she has their backs if something were to happen to him as well as threatening to cut his hands off if he touched her again. 

"Well isn't this a pleasant surprise, Inspector," she plasters a fake smile on her face as she sits across from him, sipping his tea. 

He looks at her a little surprised. "Mrs Shelby, I wasn't expecting to see you here." 

"That's odd, since you've been following my family around since you've been here," she says trying to keep the venom from her voice. "I was just having lunch with my mother. I saw you on my way out and thought we could have a little chat." 

"Don't you have to get back to that criminal husband of yours?" He says seeming anxious to get rid of her.  

"Do you see a leash around my neck?" She asks him, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it.  

"Why are you with a man like him?" he asks her. "He'll only get you and your daughter hurt, maybe even killed. He's bad news and you and Bessie," he ignores the glare she sends him when he mentions her daughters nickname. "Deserve better than that." 

"You see, Tommy is a lot of things, Inspector," she begins. "But he's my husband and my daughter's father, first and foremost, and if you think for a second that you can turn me against him by saying all that, you should think again," she continues, leaning in closer and pointing the fingers that are holding her cigarette at him. "And if you continue to use my daughter as leverage in whatever game you're playing with him, you won't only have Thomas Shelby to worry about." 

"Is that a threat, Mrs. Shelby?" he asks, visibly gulping. The bite in her words and fire in her eyes told the inspector she's a woman of her word and that if he didn't fear Tommy, he should certainly fear her. She was not only a woman protecting her husband but a mother protecting her cub. 

"Oh no, darling," she leans back in the chair, crossing her legs, with one arm across her stomach while the other brings her cigarette back to her lips. She takes one last drag on her cigarette before crushing it into the ashtray on the table. Uncrossing her legs, she stands up from her seat. "Think of it as a friendly promise." 

"We're not friends," he frowns up at her. 

"And we never will be with that attitude," she scoffs. "But if you would rather I threaten you," she starts, as she moves closer and leans over him. "You touch my daughter again and it'll be the last thing you ever do." 

She stands up straight and goes to step away from him when she turned back around. "And if I were you, I'd send Grace back to Ireland or to where the hell she wants to go. Would hate for something to happen to her when the other's finally see the truth about her."  

"You know about Grace?" He looks at her surprised and a little worried for the blonde 'barmaid'. "Are you worried she'll steal your husband?" 

"I know more than you think," she smiles. "If you think your blonde whore can steal my husband, you're a bigger fool than I thought. In fact you two are perfect for each other. Idiots, the both of you," she adds and pats his cheek. "Enjoy the rest of your day, Inspector."  

Leaving the restaurant, she makes her way to the Garrison. 

Nora enters the Garrison, finding only Grace behind the bar. She's leaning in close to the wall of the snug as if she's trying to listen in on whoever is in there. Nora knew it would be Tommy, Arthur and John since they were the only ones who used it. Rolling her eyes, she makes her way over to the bar.  

"You might as well have your ear against the wall," she says startling the barmaid spy. "I'll bet I can guess what you're listening in on." 

"I don't know what you're talking about," Grace tries to deny having being caught eavesdropping.  

"Gosh, I really hope Bess isn't giving her dad and uncles too much trouble. That girl can be a handful when she wants to be. She gets that from her Uncle John," Nora smiles, this was her way of reminding Grace of where she stood. Not only was Grace unknowingly revealing her intentions for working there, she'd taken a liking to Tommy that was a little more than him being her and Campbell's target. "She has her Uncle Arthur's temper though. But then again all the Shelby's have that temper and they can hold a grudge well too. You really wouldn't want to get on the wrong side of them."  

"Why do I get the feeling that you're trying to warn about something?" 

"I would hate for something to happen to the pretty face of yours," she says not bothering to hide her intentions in her words. 

"Look, I don't know-" she begins only to be cut off but the snug door opening and Tommy walking out.  

"Hello, Love," he greets his wife, pressing a kiss to her cheek. "How was lunch with Marion?"  

"It went well," she smiles. "She's invited us to church on Sunday. And just so you know, you missed." 

"Did I?" he asks, a small smirk making it's way on to his lips. Taking her face in his hands, he plants his lips on hers, making sure to make a show of it. "Better?" he asks when he pulls away. 

"Much better," Patting his chest, she moves past him into the snug. She's surprised to see Bessie's box of crayons and her sketchbook sitting neatly to the side. The little girl loves to draw and takes her drawing book and crayons every where she goes.  

Looking at Bessie, she notices the little girl has playing cards in her hand and a stoic look on her face as she glances at her uncles sitting across from her. 

"Please tell me you're not teaching our daughter to play cards," she says to Tommy as he stands next to her. 

"Our dad started teaching us at her age," Arthur pipes up, his eyes furrowed in concentration as he looks between his cards and Bessie.  

"Next we'll be off to the races, teaching her how to place a bet," John joins in.  

"Remind me why I married into this family again?" she says turning towards Tommy who had moved to sit back down next to Bessie. 

"Because you couldn't resist my charm," Tommy teases smiling up at her and pulling her onto his lap. "And aside from Bessie, you're the best thing that's ever happened to me." 

"And he knocked you up." John adds, snickering behind his cards.  

"What does knocked you up mean, mummy?" the soft spoken voice of her daughter asks.  

Nora sends a deadly glare towards John. "I'll explain it when you're older." She turns back to Tommy. "We should head home. I need to talk to you." 

"Can't we talk here?" he asks.  

"I caught her trying to listen in again," she says leaning in to whisper in his ear just incase Grace was standing there with her ear pressed to the wall again. 

"I think it's time we take Bess home," Tommy announces to the room as Nora stands from his lip, picking up Bessie's crayons and book. 

"But Uncle Arthur owes me £1," Bessie whines as she drops her cards on the table. 

"I'll give it to your dad later," Arthur assures her as she shuffles off her chair.  

"She'll hold you too it," Nora warns her brother-in-law from thinking that he can get away from paying his debt to his youngest niece. She helps the six year old into her coat. 

The small family of three say their goodbyes and leave the Garrison, making their way home. 

"Is she alright?" Tommy asks as Nora's arms wrapped around him from behind. She lets out a sigh as she nuzzles her face into his back. Bessie wanted to do some drawing in her bedroom when they got home so Nora had got it all set up for her while Tommy made her some tea. 

"She's perfect," She answers not just talking about their little girls mood.  

Bessie had been born just before the war was declared and Tommy and Nora were married not long before her birth. She was two months old when Tommy and her Uncles were shipped off to France. Every time when Tommy came back on leave she'd grown so much. He'd missed all her milestones but read about it in his wife, his sister and his aunt's letters. Bessie was four when he came home after the war ended and she attached herself to him as if he'd never been gone. She's a daddy's girl and has Tommy wrapped tightly around her finger.  

After he came home, most nights he would spend in her bedroom, sitting on the floor, his back to the wall watching her sleep to remind himself he was safe and at home, that he still has something to live for when it gets too much to bare. His little girl is his guiding light. She's the one who pulls him out of the french tunnels when he finds himself back in them. When he's with her and Nora, the noises stop and visions of the dirty walls fade away. 

So yeah, she's perfect. 

"Are you alright?" He asks turning around in her arms, forgoing the tea he was making.  

"I'll be better once Campbell and Grace are gone," she says looking up into his eyes.  

"Not much longer now, my love," he tells her, leaning his head forward to press a kiss to hers. "You have my word." 

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[gyuarchival]

in a better moment, at a better timing. | choi yeonjun, oneshot.

sypnosis: ex!yeonjun is trying to win you back, after a few months of breaking up. He never stops trying, until the last and final moment just as he was about to give up.

word count: 2k words.

genre: angst, happy ending, slice of life, student life.

warnings: constant mentions of smoking, arguing, fighting.

A/N: yay my first ever post! this isn't a really good oneshot for a first impression, but i had an idea that i just wanted to get it over and done with. I will be posting alot more as I have more works on the way <3 im open to constructive criticism though, just send me a message :)

“Just, enough, Choi Yeonjun. How far do you want to go? Huh? How many times do you want to do this?” you aggressively shook off his hand from your wrist that was gripping hard enough to leave red marks. 

“But baby please, I told you I am at fault, that argument from months ago shouldn't have happened if I didn’t get so upset. I know I was shitty but please, let me make things right, yeah?” 

He just had to bring this up as you accidentally bumped into him on campus before getting into class. Knowing he would not just give up, you tugged him to the back of your building, where most of the students go to smoke. Lucky for you, no one was there at that moment. 

You sighed at the sight of your ex-boyfriend looking down at you with genuine eyes, rubbing his palms together in guilt like it was a Sunday morning during church service. To ease the pain you were feeling in your temples, you took out a cigarette stick, lighting it up and taking a deep inhale, feeling the burn hitting the back of your throat. You leaned on the wall, head tilting as you exhale. 

Yeonjun looked at you with mouth agape and eyes widening. 

“Since... when do you smoke babe...?” 

“Since you broke up with me. I’m not your ‘babe’ anymore, stop calling me that.”

“I thought you hated smokers? That's why I stopped smoking in front of you.” 

“And I thought you hated my guts? Why come back for the fifth time now?” 

 He grew silent. 

“...I don’t. I have never hated you?” 

Your giggle turned into a full on laughter. 

“Really? Choi Yeonjun, you’re fucking funny. Didn’t know you took comedy classes after we broke up.” 

He took a few steps closer to you, inching closer to your face. His cologne was overpowering the cigarette smell, but all of your senses stopped working once he locked eyes with you. You seriously hoped his shadow and the gloomy sky were helping to cover your face that was getting red. 

“I’m serious, yn.” 

He took the cigarette resting on your lips in between his own index and middle fingers, and took a hit. He leaned on the wall next to you, looking up at the sky, wondering if it was going to rain. 

You couldn’t even ask him back for your stick because you were still stupidly flustered with the close proximity with your ex. Admittedly, you do still love him; but, you can’t blame yourself because you didn’t ask for the breakup, you just accepted it and (tried to) move on.

You placed a new stick in between your lips. He saw your movement, and before you could take out your lighter, he straightened his posture in front of you and held your shoulders in place. He got closer again, eyes focusing on the sticks in between the two of you, igniting your cigarette with his. For that brief moment, you stared into his eyes again. Fuck. There you go, all smothered for him again. This was the exact reason you two could last so long, close to 2 years long; authentic, real romance most relationships could not achieve for very long. 

He snickered at your reaction, which got him a smack on his shoulder that made him retract a few steps back in return. 

“Fuck was that Yeonjun.” 

“Finally you dropped my last name,” he mentioned, as he hates when close friends, especially his own partner, calls him by his full name, as it is too ‘formal’, and not friendly at all. 

You decided to sit down on the ground instead, and he followed suit. 

“Whatever, Choi Yeonjun.” 

“Hey.. thought you dropped it,” he pouted and tried acting cute. 

You didn’t give a response but an inhale of your stick which you rather much focus on. A few brief seconds of silence, he spoke again. 

“Remember during freshman year, we would text each other to sneak out and smoke during class?” 

That sentence itself made you reminisce about those old times, and elicited a chuckle as you stared at the ground. 

“Then you got caught by the class rep?” 

“Yeah then I got caught! I took a bullet for us, baby."

He chuckled. There it was, your favourite smile appearing again. God, you miss it so damn much.

He was right, he has actually taken multiple bullets for your relationship, like he said; getting caught leaving class for reasons that your professor wouldn’t approve because he thinks of his students as if they were still young and naive even though everyone is well of age (seriously, who appoints a class rep in universities these days?). He even skipped his dance club meetings and trainings  just to come down to see you, or accompany you while you wait for your next class to start, no matter if it was just 30 minutes. 

However, at the end of the second semester, the two of you started to become extremely busy. One preparing for a dance competition and one practicing business presentations respectively. Ultimately, an argument just had to rise and break the relationship; over the fact that you two lacked communication and did not trust each other to be in the hands of another in replacement. Could you blame Beomgyu, Yeonjun’s dance partner for always spending time together? Or was it okay for him to point the blame on Soobin, your senior best friend who has been helping big time in preparing for your presentations?

But in truth, he was so agitated and pressured by his competition that he decided to blow smoke on you, blaming you for spending too much time with Soobin and that he was jealous. You were stressed too, and took things too emotionally. It was a typical relationship issue you thought you could talk things through for, but he did not have the same idea. Alas, it was the beginning of your downfall. 

A few weeks after the breakup, he came back, haunting you and your friends like a spirit with unfinished business, begging to be brought back in once more and that he was at fault. The first and second time he begged you, you couldn’t even look into his eyes because you were so disappointed in him and yourself that you just walked away without responding. The third and fourth time he tried approaching you, he brought you letters and flowers that were placed on the usual spot you always sit in the lecture theatre for general studies class, which was once next to your beloved boyfriend (but now, Soobin takes that spot). He stopped doing so after seeing his flowers in the bin right outside the class. 

Those times made you think, he really still loves you, and in truth, you still love him too, no matter how many times you tried denying it, by going to clubs with friends almost every week, and them telling you he isn’t worth it. You couldn't look him in the eye because you were scared of accepting this bittersweet truth. You threw the flowers because you didn't want your mother to be asking if Yeonjun gave you those and then ask a string of questions relating to your relationship and the boy, which makes her sound like she was more curious about your relationship with him than her own daughter’s wellbeing. All in all, you still hope he tries again, but with a better approach and at a better timing. 

The fifth and last time. It was unexpected and accidental. The both of you didn’t watch where you were walking towards, and bumped shoulders hard enough to receive pain from it. After realising it was you who he bumped into, he told his friends to go without him, and you said the same to your own group. The conversation began, and from there it travelled back to the present. 

 is this perhaps the better approach at a better timing? 

Your cigarette stick was slowly becoming shorter, so was his. Silence that was so uncomfortable fell in between the two of you.

“...I see you’re still wearing my hoodie. Does it still smell like me?” 

Ah, right. You forgot about what you were wearing till he mentioned it. The grey oversized hoodie that he loved so much, he decided to give it to you before things got hectic, knowing you will miss him a hell lot when you two got very busy. You have been wearing it out of habit actually, but you didn’t really care because all hope was lost, so it was about time you lost his scent and made it yours. 

“No, it smells like cigarettes now.” 

“Hey, it was my favourite hoodie though! Should I bring back my scent that you love so much-”

“Stop, I don’t want to. I wear it out of habit. And for smoking.” 

Yeonjun slowly retracted back his arms that were almost hugging your figure, wanting to hold you again once more, after the drought of not hugging someone that is as precious and adorable as you. He understood that you needed space, but that sentence did break his heart even more. 

“...I’ll hear you out again once more. Properly. And I'll think about it this time," you mentioned your final choice to listen to his reasonings and explanations behind his never-ending fight to win you back.

In that split second his heart was mended instantly, and his lips stretched into a small smile, happy that the boy had finally gotten a small victory. He turned his whole body to you, and began speaking his truth. 

“I admit I was at fault, the one who started the fight and initiated the break up. I know I messed up, big time. I won’t even blame the dance competition, or Soobin. Just myself. I was stupid enough to make that move out of the blue, especially when you were stressed about your presentations. I am terribly sorry for what I have done, and I promise you that when we have arguments again, I will never, ever do that again. You have been the best I ever had in my life, and I don’t want to be with anyone else, just you. I want to settle down with you and only you! I even thought about how many kids we should have and what kind of house we should-” 

“Woah damn. Slow down? How did an apology get to a proposal?” 

You giggled at his speech that sounded like he was going to get down on one knee to propose to you. He reacted the same as well, but for a different reason, when he saw you finally smiling because of him. 

“Okay okay. Take your time though, I can wait all day for your response.” 

“Really? Okay, I can go back to class and get back to you tonight then?” You joked, trying to get up from your spot while he tried to pull you back down. “Hey no i didn’t mean that!” 

“I’m just joking, jjunie."

His heart fluttered at the mention of the nickname, that was specially made by you. No one else can call him that.

You decided to respond after sighing. 

“Honestly? I feel the same. I too feel incomplete without you. Ever since we broke up, I couldn’t move on, and it felt wrong to do so. It was as if the universe didn’t allow me to. Do I resent you for that? Yes. Are you at fault? Obviously. But one thing I know for sure, that you regret it. From constantly begging me, to sending me letters and flowers, it was stupid, but it kind of reassured me to know that I wasn’t feeling stupid, alone.” 

You looked at him after speaking, and he has been staring at you with glossy eyes, arms wrapped around his knees. You smiled genuinely towards him. 

“My mother still asks about you too, you know? Asking when you are coming back to visit her again,” 

With that sentence, tears fell from his eyes, he didn’t even put in the effort to wipe it off. His smile became crooked as his sobbing became harder. You felt bad, you hate to see your favourite person cry. You gave in, and gave Yeonjun a comforting hug, wrapping your warm arms around him, cooing and patting him like a little child. 

“I’m sorry… I really am.” 

“It’s okay. Me too.” 

[apomaro-mellow]

Family Planning 9

Part 8

Eddie held his breath as Steve leaned down to kiss him. It was sweeter and softer than Eddie ever imagined a kiss from Steve Harrington would be. He expected passion, burning like a fire that threatened to engulf him. But it was even better than that. It was like the warmth that settled in his stomach after sneaking some of his uncle’s whiskey. It was comforting.

He didn’t know what to do with his hands at first so he kept them at his sides. But he couldn’t keep still for long and settled his hands on Steve’s hips. That just prompted Steve to move said hips and Eddie was swept away as that tang of arousal he scented earlier bloomed.

Steve rose up, pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it to the floor. “Think you can be quiet?”, he whispered.

Eddie nodded. Normally it was kind of a tall order but he’d do anything if it meant he got to have Steve like this. It was clearly the right answer because Steve smiled down at him and leaned in again….

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

There were birds chirping, literally chirping and giving the morning a melodic brightness that Eddie hadn’t felt for a long time. This time, Steve’s weight on him was expected. Steve’s head was pillowed on his chest just like after the night of the party.

Eddie imagined that this omega was actually his mate. That he got to wake up to Steve like this every morning. That they actually had a little pup that was a combination of their features. Maybe Steve’s eyes and his hair? Or maybe the pup could have his texture with Steve’s color? Maybe his moles too?

Steve mumbled something and shifted, bringing Eddie out of his own thoughts. He couldn’t believe last night really happened.

“I can’t believe last night really happened.”

He could hear Steve giggling, apparently awake enough to hear him. “Well, it did”, Steve blinked his eyes through the morning brightness.

Eddie wanted to ask so many things. Did he like the date? Did he have a lot of fun despite all the mishaps? Would this go on even after the project or were they just playing house? Instead what came out of his mouth was-

“Am I going to have to go down the ladder again?”

Steve’s lips curled up and Eddie wondered if this was what jesters felt like when their liege smiled at their antics. Steve sat up and looked at the clock on his nightstand. 

“Shit what day is it?”, he said, getting out of bed without waiting for an answer.

“Well yesterday was Saturday, so that would make today Sunday”, Eddie said, sitting up when Steve started pulling nice clothes out of his closet. He was about to question why when a knock came at the bedroom door.

“Steve, are you ready yet?”, his mother asked from the other side.

“In a minute!”, Steve was frantically getting dressed. 

Then it clicked for Eddie. Ah. Sunday. Nice clothes. Early start. 

“Wait, have you been taking our daughter to church on your weekends?”, Eddie asked, arms crossed in a huff. “We never discussed religion when bringing up our pups.”

Steve rolled his eyes as he buttoned up his shirt. Then he came over to kiss the frown off his face. “Do you realize how silly I’d look taking a sack of flour to church?”

The kiss got the fake-pout to disappear and Steve turning to reveal his bare ass finished the job. He got out of bed too and started to dress in his clothes from last night.

“Wait for us to go, then you can use the back door. Just lock it behind yourself, ‘kay?”

“You know it’s kinda hot havin’ to sneak around like this”, Eddie smirked, and then stumbled loudly as he tried putting his pants on.

“It’s not gonna be hot if my dad catches”, Steve said. Saying so reminded him of his scent. He probably reeked of Eddie. A thought that made him happy when he woke up but would need to mask. And he didn’t have time for a shower. He grabbed some cologne and spritzed himself. 

Eddie did his very best not to whine because he understood. Steve left his room, but not without another kiss. Eddie kept his ear to the door as he listened to the Harringtons assemble and then head out the door. He waited a few moments before leaving the bedroom and taking his leave. 

Once he was out, he was practically skipping down the road. He didn’t even mind that he got back to his van and found a ticket on the window.

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

“Has Steve told you how many kids he wants yet?”, Tommy asked.

Eddie paused at the question. Eating lunch at Steve’s table still felt novel and Tommy not sneering at him even more so. Eddie looked at Steve, who had Kimberly in his lap and was even bouncing her on his knee while eating a sandwich with one hand. He froze though at Tommy’s question, cheeks stuffed with ham and cheese.

“Looks like he hasn’t”, Carol grinned.

Eddie wondered what could be the scandalous number that had them all like this. Did Steve not want kids at all? Did he want twenty? Eddie swallowed and leaned his elbow on the table, playing at ease.

“Well, my lovely-lovely, how many kids do you envision for the future?”

Steve swallowed thickly, his leg coming to a stop as he adjusted the bag of flour in his arms. “I uh, well I uh, I always thought that six was a good number.”

Eddie’s eyes bugged out wide but not for the reason most would think. Steve was fidgeting in his seat a little, not sure what to do with his intense gaze on him or his friends’ snickering. He knew they were only teasing but it still made his face red.

“I can give you six”, Eddie said, snapping Steve back to reality.

“Wha-”

“Actually, wait right here!”

Eddie tried to rush from his seat, tripping over himself and catching his body on all fours before righting himself and rushing out the lunch room. Literally a second after he ran through the doors, the bell rang, prompting most of the students to start getting up and leaving. Steve was staring at the door until Carol snapped her fingers in front of his face.

“Come on. English is the one class I can’t be late for”, she said.

“Eddie said to wait.”

“And you’re just gonna?”, Tommy had his brow raised.

“He probably won’t take that long. I’ll see you guys soon”, Steve said. “Take my lunch tray for me on the way out.”

They both sighed and yet they did just that. Steve eventually felt weird being the only one sitting in the cafeteria and walked out, leaning on the wall just outside of it and hoping a teacher didn’t come by and ask for his hall pass. He heard racing footsteps and Eddie skidded around the corner, then slid over to Steve, stopping short of just running into him.

“Here”, he held out a piece of cloth.

Steve took it, realizing it was a bandana, one he’d seen in Eddie’s pocket usually. The moment it was in his hands, he caught just a whiff of it and then brought it to his nose for a quick sniff. And then he pressed his face to it, taking in Eddie’s scent and just barely restraining the urge to rub it all over himself while still in public.

“Is this…?”, he trailed off, just a tad breathless. 

Eddie nodded vigorously. “If you’ll have me.”

A courting gift. The first of many to come.

Part 10 Final

Taglist

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[hopefulromances]

I Still Get Jealous - Jamie Tartt

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: Jealousy, some heated activities

Jamie showed up to the club as soon as he could. He told you that he’d be late because of the press conference but that he'd get there as soon as he could. When he showed up, the crowd was pulsing with the music, the lights in the club a dark red color, seemingly swaying with the movement of the crowd. He pressed through the crowd looking for you in the throng. 

He spotted you then, just as the song was changing. You were in a ring of friends, all there to celebrate your birthday. Work friends, some of the team, Keeley, everyone there for you. And you looked spectacular. You were wearing that dress you loved, the one you’d picked out ages ago and shown him and your smile was dazzling. 

Then his eyes followed who you were smiling at. It was some man he didn’t recognize, probably someone from your office, but the look on his face was less than friendly. Right in front of Jamie’s eyes, the man looked up and down your body as you danced with friends. 

Finally, your eyes found Jamie and you lit up. 

“Jamie!” you called out, breaking away from your group. 

He smiled at you, hooking his arm around your waist and tugging you towards him. 

“Hello, darling,” he greeted before pressing his lips against yours. He kissed you harder than he normally would in public, but knowing that man was over there watching you kiss him was egging him on. You made a noise of surprise and brought your hands up to his neck. 

“Mm, what was that for?” You murmured against his lips, as you pulled away. 

“Happy Birthday, love,” Jamie replied, kissing you again. “You look…” he shook his head as he looked down your body. “Fucking mint.” You blushed under his praise, ducking your head down to avoid giving him the satisfaction, but he brought his finger up to pull your eyes back to him. “My gorgeous girl.” 

You shook your head, not being able to help the smile on your face. “Fuck off. Come meet my friends.” 

You grabbed his hand and started pulling him through the crowd. You introduced him to some of the people in your circle dancing. Molly, April, Rina, David, and a lot of other names that went right over Jamie’s head. But they were all excited to meet the famous footballer, and he was happy to answer questions, take photos, and do anything to allow his girl to shine. 

“And this is Kevin,” she pulled him over to someone new. Jamie looked over and saw it was the man who’d been eyefucking her when he walked into the room. “Kevin, this is Jamie, my boyfriend.”

“How’s it going, Kevin?” Jamie put out his hand. He could be cordial. 

Kevin’s eyebrows raised. “Jamie Tartt? Look, (Y/N), when you said you were dating a footballer I thought you meant Sunday church league not… star striker for AFC Richmond.”

“Well, he’s just Jamie to me,” you thrilled, wrapping your arm around his waist and leaning into him. 

Jamie pulled you closer to him, turning to Kevin. “So, you two work together?”

“Kevin sits across from me,” you told Jamie. “Isn’t that right, Kevin?”

Kevin hadn’t taken his eyes off of Jamie. “Sorry, I just can’t believe you’re dating Jamie fucking Tartt! I mean how did you two meet?”

Jamie felt you shift against him, clearly uncomfortable with the line of questioning.

“Um, well, my cousin, Colin, is on the team and…”

“Wait, as in Colin Hughes?” Kevin interrupted. Jamie huffed, puffing out his chest slightly. 

You pinched Jamie’s waist, silently getting him to calm down. “Yep. My dads side is welsh. But mums from London. Anyways, Colin introduced us at some gala or something and we hit it right off.”

“That’s mental, Jamie, mate, you gotta get me tickets to a game,” Kevin jeered, giving Jamie a friendly shoulder punch. But Jamie did not find it friendly. He found Kevin incredibly grating and condescending. 

“Yeah, sure,” he answered shortly. “(Y/N), why don’t we go for a dance?”

He didn’t wait for you to answer, leading you away from Kevin and onto the dance floor. You pulled on Jamie’s hand, bringing him to a stop. 

“Can you behave, please?” you whined, pulling him back to you. 

“You want me to behave?” Jamie growled, winding his arms around your waist. “Kevin’s a dick you know that?” He started swaying the two of you to the beat. 

You brought your hands up to his chest, smoothing out the dress shirt he was wearing. “He’s not that bad. Just excited to meet you.”

Jamie looked over your head to see Kevin was still looking over at you. Jamie’s arms tightened around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. He felt your hands on his jaw as you pulled him to look down at you. 

“Jamie?” 

“Hm?”

“Are you jealous?”

Jamie quirked an eyebrow up, smirking. “And why shouldn’t I be?” 

He spun you around and brought you so your back was flush with his chest. You gasped, letting your head fall back against his shoulder as his hands slid down the front of your body. He continued moving the two of you to the beat of the music as his lips came down to your ear. 

“You see Kevin over there?” He kissed the back of your neck, relishing the shudder it drew from you. “He’s been staring at you all night. Cause you look so fucking sexy.” His lips moved over your skin. “So fucking beautiful.” Another kiss to your neck “And everyone in this room wants a taste of you.” He watched your eyes flutter close as he continued to kiss and nip on the skin behind your ear. “That’s why I’m jealous.” 

Your eyes shot open when you realized what he was doing. “Did you just give me a hickey?” You brought a hand up to where he’d been sucking on your skin and felt the welt growing under your fingers. “Jamie!”

He snickered, kissing the mark, happy with his work. “Gotta make sure everyone here knows you’re taken, love.”

“You are unbelievable, what are we teenagers?” 

He looked over and saw that Kevin had looked away, he couldn’t help but feel victorious as he guided you back to facing him.

“You’re really jealous, aren’t you?” you giggled, kissing his cheek. Now it was Jamie’s turn to duck away but you grabbed his jaw and pulled him back to you. “Baby.”

You knew Jamie too well to know that his preening was his insecurity shining through. As much as you loved when his strong arms kept you tight and safe against his firm chest, you knew that he just wanted to know you weren’t going to leave him. 

“Corse I’m jealous,” Jaime mumbled, resting cheek against your temple. “I know that you could do better than me.”

You let out a deep sigh. How was this man, that you held so much love for, unable to see that there was no way that you could leave him. There was no one better for you than him. You wrapped your hands up so they tangled in his hair, holding his head against you as comb through his locks.

“Jamie, you know that’s not true,” you reassured him, pressing kisses to his face. “I could never leave you.” 

“Kevin showed up on time,” Jamie pointed out. You could feel his pout against your cheek and you chuckled.

“Kevin is an ass,” you reminded him. He chuckled, pulling back from you so he could look at you clearly. 

He looked around the club - the club both of you seemed to have forgotten you were in. He grabbed your hands and pulled them up to his lips. 

“Let’s get you a drink, love.” He started pulling you towards the bar. 

You nodded and started to follow him. “Wait, one more thing.”

You yanked him back to you, kissing him firmly. He caught you easily, his hands struggled for a moment to find their placement but he brought one hand sliding between your shoulder blades up to your neck and the other wrapping around your waist to hold you against him. You quickly lost control of the kiss, only able to circle his shoulders, as his hands continued to move around your body. He moved his head back and forth, kissing you firmly and passionately. Finally he pulled back and rested his head on your forehead, noses touching, before coming down one more time for a softer kiss. When he pulled back, you were staring, a little dazed as you smiled. 

“What was that one for, love?” He asked, picking a stray hair off your face. 

“Hm?”

“That kiss?”

“Oh! Molly was looking at you for a little too long,” you explained, raising your eyebrows at him. 

“Alright! Okay!” Jamie rolled his eyes, grabbing your hands again. “Now who’s jealous?” 

Just imagine this for that last kiss:

[wardenparker]

If You Were Mine, pt 2

Javier Peña x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 12.5k   Warnings: Food/alcohol, references to smoking. The love is requited they’re just idiots, there’s only one bed, dake dating, wedding date, Javier Peña dances like he fucks and I will not be taking criticism, Bad Timing Tía, dealing with the ex, fingering, hand job, unprotected sex, vaginal sex.  Summary: The day of Danny’s wedding goes much, much different than either you or Javi expects it to -- and so do your meetings in Washington. Notes: Find part 1 HERE! Also this gif has me hypnotized so if you need me I’ll be right here staring at my laptop screen for the rest of time...

Danny's wedding is two days later, and that Sunday morning when you get up and get dressed for church, it's getting dressed for the wedding as well. Barely able to look Javi in the eye since hearing his confession on Friday night, you're quiet in the truck on the way to downtown Laredo. Javi looks far more handsome than a man in a plaid shirt and jeans ever should, and your black dress might be a tad too dressy but you pair it with flat shoes and don't overdo anything else so you won't end up looking too out of place. You've already made up your mind to be there for him today and to not give anyone any reason to question the two of you — you just want one more day of things being good between you before you have to head to Washington.

Sitting in the truck beside you is pure torture. Rubbing his hands on his jeans as he wonders why you have just…avoided him. He hates that things have changed, but he doesn’t know how to bridge the gap.

When the church comes into view Chucho shuts off the radio like the priest is going to come out and chastise him for listening to rock music, but you just sit back and tap your fingers on the strap of your purse. "Remind me," you murmur, leaning over to Javier as Chucho parks the truck. "Danny is your mother's younger sister's only boy, right?"

“Yeah.” Javi nearly startles, hearing the first words you’ve said to him in two days. “I was a teen when he was born.” He turns his head but you are looking down at your purse.

"Okay. Just wanted to make sure I had it right." Your hand moves from kneading your purse to gently squeezing his before Chucho looks over at you both and declares it time for wedding bells with a sly wink.

“Pop.” Javi groans, rolling his eyes at how unsubtle his father is being. Lord knows there will be plenty of jokes made around him today, but hinting that you could be married to him soon hurts.

"It's okay, cariño." Your hand on his squeezes again and you smile as you shrug your shoulders. "I don't mind a little teasing. It's a happy day." Without any further comment, you slide out the driver's side door and accept Chucho's hand to climb out carefully, leaving Javi bewildered in the truck.

The bittersweet sound of an endearment makes Javi sigh, climbing out to the truck slowly. “It’s okay.” He murmurs as his father walks ahead. “I’m just going to tell everyone.”

"No." Standing in front of him blocks his way, and you put your hand firmly on his arm. "You're not, Jav." This is what you spent all of yesterday deciding, and the very firm conclusion you came to might embarrass him, but it's a gesture. A glimpse, if he wants it. "You wanted to pretend. To see what it would be like if you were mine and I was yours? Then that's what today is going to be. I won't be inappropriate or anything, but...what's stopping us from just enjoying today?"

His jaw unhinges and immediately heat blasts over his face like he’s been tossed on an oven. Or he’s finally died and been sent to hell. “You— you heard me?” He rasps out, mortified that you had heard him pouring his heart out like a fucking idiot.

"We were in no condition to talk about any of this with how upset we both were that night." Maybe you should have told him yesterday, but it's too late for that now. Either way, you take both of his hands in yours and offer him a smile. "If you truly don't want to see what we could be, then you're at least going to get your wish to pretend."

He closes his eyes, wincing at the way it sounds when you voice it out loud. “Muñeca…” he murmurs helplessly.

"Javi, it's—" You could say that it's okay, but it's not really. It breaks your heart to think that he isn't willing to try, but you know he's been through unimaginable things. Things he will probably never speak about because they're too painful to ever remember that viscerally. "I won't kiss you or anything. I'm not going to force this on you. But at the very least it's Danny's day. We can smile and dance together and chat with your family and not cause a fuss on somebody else's big day." And if you hang on to this feeling for yourself on the cold or the lonely days, that's between you and the universe.

“I—okay.” He nods, opening his eyes and tries not to look like he’s attending a funeral. You know, you know everything he said and he hates that. Hates that you agree with him, knowing that he’s right and it’s the best damn thing for you.

"Okay?" Waiting until he nods again, you slip to his side and slide your hand into his to lace your fingers together. If nothing else, you can walk into the church together.

Your hand is warm, soft in his and he can’t help but squeeze it gently. “You look beautiful, muñeca.” He murmurs quietly. “But you always do.”

"When I bought this dress I got it because I thought you would like it," you admit, turning to smile at him as you walk up the steps together. "I'm glad I actually got to wear it for you."

“Couldn’t take my eyes off you.” Javi admits, remembering the op you had worn it on. “It’s why Ruiz got punched in the fucking mouth.”

You snort — barely covering your mouth in time to muffle the sound at the door of the church. "Seriously?" That split lip had been pretty nasty if you remember it correctly, now you're finally finding out how he got it, it's even better.

“Yeah.” Javi huffs, flexing his hand in yours. His fist had hurt like a motherfucker for three days, but it had been worth it.

"Javi the Big Bad Protector is kind of a turn on, not gonna lie." You murmur, quickly changing gears to smile politely to the ushers welcoming everyone into the wedding.

“He was being an asshole.” Javi grumbles. “Someone had to shut him up.”

"Mi guerrero." It's barely even a tease. Javi is absolutely a warrior, and his battles are more varied than anyone would know.

He rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t pull away. Guiding you down to the bench where you will sit through the ceremony. “Shut up.” He murmurs, letting go of your hand and touching your back very close to your ass as you start to slide into the bench.

"Yes, Daddy." You tease on a whisper that only he can hear, knowing that he'll hate it but that your tone and the smirk on your face will make him laugh.

He nearly chokes on his own damn spit when he hears you call him ‘daddy’. Grunting as he swears that if God strikes you down, you will deserve it. “Brat.”

"Ooo, don't tell me you like that?" There's a delighted gasp on your lips that turns into a giggle under your breath as he sits down next to you. "I had anticipated the complete opposite reaction."

“Shut up.” Javi glares at you. “I— I don’t like it.” He hisses quietly, even though that’s a bold faced lie. He’s never been called that before and he doesn’t know if he likes it or just like you saying it.

"Okay," you snicker quietly, glancing at him again and nearly erupting into more giggles. "Daddy."

“I swear to God.” He huffs, rolling his eyes.

"Nuh-uh." Wagging one finger at him, you cross your legs and point up at the altar at the front of the church. "Be nice. We're in His house."

“You’re the one calling people ‘daddy’.” He reminds you.

"Not people." The deep frown on his face is a mask for his amusement, and you shift closer to him in the pew with an unapologetic grin. "Just you."

“You’re annoying.” He hisses quietly. “And God is going to strike you down.” He’s joking, trying to hide how much he’s enjoying the banter.

"Maybe." You shrug, knowing you've done a whole lot of shit in your life that God should have already stricken you down for. "It would be a very interesting story."

He rolls his eyes but shifts slightly, throwing his arm on the pew behind you to wrap around your shoulder.

A few people who enter stop to say hello, telling Javier that they're glad to see him and they'll catch up with him at the reception, and a few others wave their greeting, but soon enough the assembled friends and family are on their feet again for the arrival of the bridal party and the wedding is under way.

Weddings are always a sensitive subject, especially with family. It never fails that people will recount how Javi just never showed up. Right now, he’s not concentrating on that. He’s tuned into the pressure of your thigh against his, the causal way you lean into his side with his arm still around you, your hands softly laying on his thigh like you are the couple you are pretending to be.

At one point your head tips, leaning slightly on his shoulder while you listen to the old priest pontificate on the duties of the couple to each other and to God, and even though you won’t let yourself go so far as to imagine marrying him it’s still nice to be a little bored with someone you care about. It’s homey. Domestic. And it makes you smile as you continue to sit there and hold his hand.

He doesn’t know when he had linked his fingers on his other hand with yours, but his arm is stretched out across his body while her other hand is curled around you. Almost protective as he curls around you on the bench and watches as Danny straightens proudly.

You might say it is, but this pretending isn’t just for him. Sure, your not-so-subtle ulterior motive might be to show him what he’s missing, but it’s also so that when you do have to move on - from the DEA and from him - you have these memories locked up to think back on on a rainy day. Maybe it isn’t really that good of an idea, but it’s the one you’ve got. And as the ceremony drones on and you curl into each other more and more, you can’t help but think how right it feels.

When Danny is repeating his vows, Javi leans his head against yours and sighs softly. He’s had one instance where he imagined marrying someone and he couldn’t do it. Until right now.

Squeezing his fingers gently in yours, you can’t quite make yourself look at him during these moments. Promising yourself that you wouldn’t go so far as to imagine you and him up at that altar isn’t much of a promise at all when your mind starts to wander.

Sighing softly, Javi hums when the entire church laughs, a response to the happy couple giggling as Danny lunges forward to kiss his bride before her own vows are said.

“So sweet,” you whisper without realizing it, sounding more than a little misty right next to his ear.

“They are.” Javi turns his head and his nose brushes against your temple where you have lifted your head up slightly.

“They really are.” The moment of tension hangs between you like thick jungle air, tugging on you with determination, but you don’t close the space between you no matter how much you want to. Kissing him is a torture you won’t put yourself through when you know it’s only make believe.

When the vows are finally done and the kiss starts, he hates having to pull away. Standing and clapping with the rest of the church as they turn around with nothing but hope and love in their eyes.

The church’s rec hall is ready and waiting for the influx of guests with bright decorations, cold drinks, and lively music. Chucho has been swept up in the celebratory mood by friends while you and Javi stroll behind at a leisurely pace. Your hand is still in his when you walk in, and right away people are calling it to him and coming over to say hello.

“Javier!” Danny’s mother, his tía, rushes over and smothers him in a hug, as if she didn’t run into him at the hardware store nearly a week ago. Apparently, even though Chucho had told her that he was coming, she hadn’t believed it until now.

She is beaming through happy tears, pulling Javi into her arms and regarding him with the same love that any mother would. "We're glad you could come, changuito."

Javi nods seriously and doesn’t pull away. “Of course, tía.” He murmurs quietly. “I can’t believe Danny is married.”

"He should still be in diapers," his aunt laughs happily, wiping a tear before it can hit her cheek and offering you a smile when she turns her head slightly. "But I hear you're next, eh? This is her?"

He can’t answer that, just nodding as he reaches back for you. Saying your name as he introduces you to his aunt. “This is Gloria, my tía. She is my mother’s sister.”

"I'm so glad to meet you." The hug you offer her is genuine, and the woman is smiling so broadly that she just might break apart if it gets any wider. "You must be so proud."

“Rosa looks so beautiful doesn’t she?” Gloria puffs up proudly as she turns towards the small crowd around the bride and groom. “So good for my Danny.” She hums as she eyes you and Javi. “Like you are for Javier.”

"I try to be." And that is, despite the slight ruse of the day, the honest truth. You have always tried to be there for Javi and be a good partner as well as a good friend. Sometimes bullshit would happen like your stupid moments of jealousy, but it never stopped you from caring about him with your whole heart.

“You are the first woman Javier has brought home.” She informs you proudly. “Lorraine was already here but we knew she wasn’t the one for our boy.”

“Sometimes it takes a few tries to get something right,” you offer, squeezing Javi’s hand gently. “But that’s life, right?”

Javi sighs and rolls his eyes. “I was gone.” He reminds his aunt, knowing this conversation would be repeated a hundred times before the end of the reception.

“And now you’re home.” She aims a wink at him that has you smirking before patting his shoulder. “You kids go get something to drink. I have to make the rounds.”

He huffs in amusement as she hustles away. “Kids.” He shakes his head. She will always view him as a kid despite being closer to forty than twenty.

“You’ll always be a kid to your family.” But the prospect of a drink does sound good, and you nod toward the table laden with bottles and surrounded by coolers. “Shall we?”

“Fuck yes.” Javi groans. The reception might be in the church reception hall, but there is no lack of beer and tequila for the guests. “Please.”

Your peel of laughter makes a few heads turn but you just ignore them, walking with him to the other end of the room and pulling out two bottles of cold beer. The whole thing is cozy and welcoming and you can’t find it in yourself to be upset about your decision to play pretend on a day as phenomenal as today.

As soon as everyone is in the room, the music starts. A mix of speakers and live instruments fill the hall and immediately the tías, abuelas and other women crowd into the kitchen to start bringing out platters of food. Javi knows about ten of the distant cousins had been drinking and cooking the meats out back on their grills during the ceremony so that it would be hot.

Plenty of people come by to make their observations or to unsubtly check you out, but you just smile and greet each of them in turn, keeping close to Javi and sipping your beer. Everyone is nice, despite the few Nosy Nellies, and you’re mostly content to sit and chat until the music makes your ears perk up. I Wanna Dance with Somebody is one of your all time favorite songs. “C’mon,” you insist with a grin, grabbing Javi’s hand. “No one can sit down when Whitney sings. It’s impossible.”

“I don’t–” Javi grunts, wanting to protest but you are pulling him up out of his chair before he can get too far into his grumbling. He sets his bottle down as he groans as he stands up straight.

“I know you can dance.” You remind him, having been to enough clubs together over your months as partners to have seen it a few times. On the rare occasion Javi isn’t working, he moves on a dance floor about as well as you assume he fucks — which is to say extremely well.

“Just because I can doesn’t mean I should.” He grunts, dutifully following you and he wonders if this is going to bite him in the ass.

It’s an energetic song, one that doesn’t leave you lingering in each other’s arms too much, so you thought it would be safe. Rocking back and forth with him, spinning around – all of that should have been perfectly fine. You just forgot, in a moment of madness, how much you like having his hands on you.

The beat is one that it is easy to move to. The other couples jostling about on the floor makes for him to move closer, pull you into his arms as you both move. Confining you together for the song as Whitney croons about dancing with someone who loves her.

It shouldn’t have been seductive in any way. It’s a light, joyful song. But the crush of every other guest who had the same impulse as you means one of Javi’s arms is wrapped tight around your waist as you move together, and the rhythm you’ve found is a much more silky smooth than you anticipated.

You are pressed against him, nearly grinding against him in a way that makes his breath catch. His fingers dig into your hips and he pants in your ear, not from the vigorous beat, but from trying to control his cock.

It’s the sound that makes your eyes tick up to his. His head is right beside yours and that proximity is a challenge all on its own, but it’s his breath that makes you find his eyes. It’s worry, or else it’s an attempt to check in with him, but what you see is that his deep brown eyes have turned almost black and his cheeks have pinked to the point of blush.

"Muñeca..." He grunts quietly, watching your eyes as they shift back and forth between his own and your damn gaze drops down to his lips. Making him lick them by force of habit.

It’s a bad idea. Truly. Probably a horrible idea. But your other hand has a mind of its own when it comes up to touch his cheek and ends up cupping his jaw in an unbelievably intimate gesture. “Javi…”

The soft plea in your voice breaks him. Smashes through every barrier he has attempted to erect to stay away. All it takes is a call of his name and a hand on his cheek and he is throwing away every vow he had made towards you. Lunging forward and capturing your lips with his and he molds you against him.

Blissfully unaware of all the tittering and the many watchful eyes, your whole reality has narrowed down to Javier as you cling to him. His kiss is as firm as his hold on you, promising luxuries and indulgence in the same breath that it threatens to break you apart to be worshiped piece by piece. It’s a kiss you can’t help but get lost in, and you surrender to it completely.

Javier had never been one for grand, public gestures. His intimacies – his dalliances – were always kept discreet, both for the sake of the women he was with and because he had been raised to not kiss and tell. Right now, he doesn't care about that, simply closing his eyes and sliding his tongue into your mouth.

The sound of a throat clearing doesn’t phase either of you, but being nudged almost makes you fall over as you had seemingly forgotten about everything but each other. “You’re still in a church, mijo.” His tía, Gloria, chides in an amused whisper. “There’s kids around.”

He clears his throat and drops his hands from your waist, eyes slightly shocked as he takes a step back. "Sorry." He murmurs quietly to his aunt.

“No one would notice if you needed to sneak away,” she teases before drifting off again, and as nice a woman as Gloria is, you could curse her for her timing.

Swallowing, Javi manages a small smile, knowing that he would not be able to sneak away with you. Kissing you shouldn't have even happened. "We're good."

“Maybe we should get something to eat.” The way he moved away from you made it feel like you burned him or forced him, and you can’t stand the thought of that.

“Of course, muñeca.” Javi is grateful to have something to focus on and his hand burns on your lower back as he turns you towards the tables laden down with food. You feel like you ought to apologize or something, but you don't want to. That kiss was every bit as perfect as you always knew it would be and you hate that he seems to regret it.

"Gloria's arepas are the best you will ever taste." He murmurs quietly. "But steer clear of her tamales." He warns. "They will give you heartburn and gas for a week."

"Maybe I want that," you joke, but steadily bypass the large bowl of tamales. "Get the dog back for farting on me every night."

“I don’t know what Pop is feeding him, but the smell is brutal.” Javi chuckles. “Oh, grab one of those.” He points to a small plate with a few pastries left. “You won’t regret it.”

"What is it?" Never one to turn up your nose at sweets, you immediately snap up one of the goodies for yourself and one for him.

“It’s some kind of yucca thing.” He shrugs and grins at you. “Never learned the name but they are fucking addictive.”

"We're gonna have to learn if they're as good as all that." The table of food is laid with all manner of Mexican and Texan home cooking, along with a few classic Southern staples and one dish that it seems like no one is willing to touch so you bypass it all together. An empty table along the wall is as good a place to sit as any and you head in that direction with Javi at your heels.

He had grabbed two fresh beer bottles as you had passed the drink table. Setting them down when you choose a spot and set your plate down. “I’ll grab some napkins.” He offers, realizing you both forgot them.

There is a little tittering around you at the table when Javi walks away - friends or family or just acquaintances who must have seen what happened on the dance floor or just heard that Javi has finally brought a girl home to meet the family. You ignore them dutifully, popping the bottle caps of your cold beers with the lighter from your purse, and sit back at the table to wait the mere thirty seconds it will take him to get napkins. Provided, of course, that he doesn't get sidelined by anyone on the way.

Javi grabs the napkins, turning around and heading back towards the table. Shaking his head as he watches everyone around you watching as if you are a fascinating creature.

“So you really haven’t ever brought a girl home.” When he comes back to you there’s an amused smirk on your face and nothing more. “You’d think I had a tail or something.”

He rolls his eyes and sighs. "I don't get it." He grumbles. "You would think that I was some kind of socially inept virgin or something." He knows why they are watchful. They've only ever seen him with Lorraine and couldn't possibly imagine him with anyone since he had never spoken of a woman.

“Or just a commitment-phobe.” Which you know is the real case. Javier flits from partner to partner like a hummingbird.

"Hmmm." Javi shrugs and picks up his bottle of beer. "There's that too." He acknowledges.

“It’s not the end of the world,” you shrug and pick up your fork, not wanting to give him the entire girlfriend-at-a-family-wedding experience, which definitely would have included some teasing about a ring. Instead, you’ll eat. Eating is safe.

"It's what happens when you don't show up to your last wedding." He tells you, taking a sip of his beer. "Elated that his fiancée finally had that stubbornly absent period that had you considering walking down the fucking aisle in the first place. Convenient that it was the night before we were getting married. Isn't it?"

"Marriage isn't for everybody." According to the people that knew him best, it was Lorraine that wasn't for him, but you aren't going to pick at an open wound. Instead you press your thigh against his while you sit and eat together, offering him a moment of grounding and comfort. "It's better that the two of you didn't drag yourselves through an angry marriage or an even worse divorce."

“And god forbid…kids.” Javi grunts. He would have never wanted to put a child through that shit.

"So you did what was best for you. Maybe it didn't seem nice at the time, but it was a hell of a lot nicer than the alternative." After all, Javi isn't a bad guy. Just a little unconventional in his methods. It's part of what you like so much about him. That the only person's expectations he bows to are his own.

“It’s for the best.” Javi shrugs slightly and picks up an arepa to take a large bite if it. “She’s here, by the way.”

"Oh?" That has you looking around the room instantly, as covertly as you can. "Where?"

He chuckles, not missing the instant curiosity that overcomes your features. You want to know what his ex looks like. “Over by the dessert table.” He hums. “The blonde in the flowery dress.”

"Interesting." She isn't what you would have guessed for him at all, but again, this is the woman that everyone says was so wrong for him. "She looks so..." You cringe apologetically. "Boring."

That comment catches him off guard and he snorts back a laugh. “That’s new.” He admits. “But kinda. You’re right. She wanted me to give up being a cop. Work for her daddy.”

"You could never give up being a cop." You shake your head, not able to imagine him doing anything else. Javier Peña was born to put bad guys away, no matter what form he did it in. "Like it's a damn good thing that Chucho has your cousins basically running the ranch, because you're a crime fighting guy to the bones."

“She hated it.” Javi shrugs. “I get it. It’s not an easy life.” He could have respected if she hadn’t been able to handle it. It was trying to change him that bothered him so much.

"That's for damn sure." It's also part of why you had never held onto a relationship long enough for it to be considered long-term. "Every guy I've ever dated has fully expected me to quit my job and get pregnant immediately. They want to turn me into a perfect little housewife. Now I'm not saying I'm against being a housewife, but it's just not for me."

“I don’t think any man would be happy to have his pregnant wife chasing sicarios, muñeca.” He murmurs. “I would chain you to your desk.”

"Who says I want kids? Who says I even want to get married?" You do, but for the sake of this exercise you're willing to be theoretical with him. "Having a conversation about it, or deciding together – that's different. But informing me that I will be living how they want me to with no other option because 'the man knows best' is just intolerable." It earns him a raised eyebrow from you. "If you tried to chain me to my desk, I'd knee you in the balls."

“I would take the pain if it meant you were not running across rooftops in the communas while you are pregnant.” He jokes, although he is kind of serious. “Limit it to one ball though. I would need the other if you wanted a second baby.”

He seems not to be entirely terrified of the topic, so you humor him with a smirk as you eat your arepa. "No running across rooftops if you ever knock me up, and you only get kicked in one ball instead of both. Got it. See? That's a compromise."

He rolls his eyes and chuckles, trying to ignore the thought of what would go into knocking you up. “So generous.” He grumbles sarcastically.

"It's fairly realistic, considering how stubborn we both are." You point out, enjoying the way it makes his cheeks turn pink to talk about. It's nice to know you aren't alone in the daydream even if he will never let it come to anything.

“You would try or threaten to shoot me within a month.” Humor seems to be a safe place to stand, especially when he can still feel your lips on his.

"I would not shoot you." It makes you laugh to imagine, though, and you manage to pull yourself back from the thought of getting pregnant to just being pregnant. "Unless the hormones get to me. Then I can't be held responsible."

“No gun when hormonal.” He hums, leaning back and grinning. “Got it.”

"It might finally get those CIA fuckers in line though." A thought which makes you fully guffaw. "An armed and pregnant DEA agent would be just enough of a pain in the ass to make them avoid me."

Javi laughs with you, aware that you would be given a wide berth if that were the case. “Escobar would be scared of you.” He jokes. “He would just– turn himself in.”

"In that case I need to be pregnant and on a plane back to Colombia immediately." The two of you giggling together is such a catharsis that you lean back in your chair and throw your whole self into laughing. "It would be studied in academy texts for years."

“They would be sending knocked up women to all the investigations.” He predicts. “Duty station of choice if you’re squeezing out a kid.”

You snort, taking a sip of your beer as you conjure that image in your mind. "But you have to be kept around your husband while you're there, and your husband isn't allowed to do a goddamn thing to help you ever. They need pregnant women who are at their maximum level of frustration."

“They are required to leave their dirty underwear on the floor.” Javi adds. “Especially when she’s too big to see her feet.”

"Tripping on dirty underwear sounds like the actual fastest way to make anyone mad." It earns him another snort, though, and you have to put the rest of your arepa down because you're laughing so hard. "There's wiretaps in everything so the second they hear your voice start to rise or worse...if you actually want to spend time with him? He's instantly sent to a poker night with his boys or something."

“He has to get drunk at the bar and come stumbling home to piss in your favorite potted plant.” Javi snorts. It’s good to see you relaxed, happy and laughing. Even better that it’s with him and he doesn’t want the moment to end.

"Nooo!" You frown instantly, pouting dramatically to make him laugh. "Not my plants!"

“Your favorite plants!” He insists, grinning and shaking his head. “And of course it dies a painful death.”

"Murphy's gonna fuckin' kill my plants." This time the pout is real, but you still chuckle through it, knowing that it isn't the end of the world. "If I ever get back to Colombia, I'll be starting from scratch."

“You will.” Javi predicts seriously. “You are going to go back. I know it.”

"Hopefully we both get to go back." It would be the nail in the coffin of any prayer of a relationship with him that you could have, but at least he would be happy. He would still be in your life, and you would both have your work, and you would make it okay as long as he got to be happy.

“That would be good.” You’re a damn fine agent and they would be lucky to have you back again.

"You deserve to be there." More than anyone else, Javi deserves to be in that fight and everyone knows it. "But just in case I can't go back with you, you gotta tell them about our pregnant agent plan, okay?"

“I will.” Javi’s already made up his mind. If he has to cash in every favor he has, he’s going to send you back to Colombia.

"Javier." An ice cold voice from behind you says his name like he's about to be sent to the principal's office, and you nearly jolt in your seat from the interruption of the surprisingly soft moment you were just having. To your surprise and amusement, the figure standing over your shoulder is a boring-looking blonde with a very curious look on her face. "Didn't expect to see you here."

“Lorraine.” Javi nods and sits up, halfway rising out of his chair but then he decides to stay seated. “I could say the same.” He admits. “How have you been?”

"Never better." She tips her nose up, giving you the distinct impression that she's lying. "Randy and I were just getting the kids ready to go home, but I thought I should at least say hello." Lorraine bristles slightly, casting an eye down at you. "Since the odds of seeing you at a wedding are so slim and all."

Javi takes the barb, accepting that out of everyone, she has the right to say something. “Apparently it’s just my own that I have an aversion to.” He jokes before he introduces you to his ex.

"Yes," she sniffs slightly when you put out your hand to her in the only polite gesture you can muster in the moment. "The girlfriend. I heard."

The venom in her tone surprises Javi, considering she’s gone on to marry Randy and have two children. Who are currently playing with his cousin’s kids. He watches as you shake hands and he feels the need to curl his arm around your shoulders. “Word travels fast, apparently.” He hums.

“It’s all over town.” She barely puts her hand in yours, weakly bent wrist and fingers as floppy as a fish snatched away as quickly as possible.

“People like to gossip.” He shrugs causally. “Wouldn’t be the first time people have talked about me.”

“You never give them reason not to,” she snipes, before standing up straight as a post again, like the stick inside her ass just reset itself.

“What the hell is the matter with you?” Her prim Church Lady Holier-Than-Thou bullshit almost has you careening up out of your chair but you keep your voice down to a hiss. This is somebody else’s big day and you’re not here to ruin that. “Did you seriously come over here just to say ‘hey I still hate you’?”

Javi unwinds his arm from around you, dropping it down to your thigh to squeeze it. “It’s okay, muñeca.” He reassures you softly. He doesn’t want a scene at his cousin’s wedding. He flashes her an apologetic look and his eyes slide towards her husband and children. “Seems like things worked out.” He points out. “You look….happy.”

“No thanks to you.” Lorraine looks you over, clearly turning up her nose when her appraisal is over, and huffs. “Anyway, I heard you’re not staying. That’s for the best.”

“It depends.” Javi is annoyed with her tone, but he grins, lacing his fingers with yours. “I think she likes the idea of a hometown family wedding.”

“I want whatever you want, mi guerrero.” However doting it might have sounded by accident, the soft sentiment and wistful tone in your voice is honest. If he decides to take the chance, you would drive in with him wholeheartedly.

It's not to annoy Lorraine, who used to plaster herself to Javi's side and beg him for kisses when they were out on the town, but simply because he wants to. He leans in and presses his lips to yours softly. "I love you." The words are said because they are true and you have heard them. You know how he feels because of his confession.

The stiff, priggish huff from above you makes no difference at this moment. All that matters in the soft, warm press of his lips and the way his words warm through you completely. If it’s the only time you’ll ever hear them like this, you’re going to savor them forever. “I love you, too.”

Javi hums, nudging his nose against yours before he pulls back. His heart thumping in his chest as you smile at him. When you finally look up again, drifting back to reality on the gorgeous feeling of lightness, Lorraine is nowhere in sight. "I think we annoyed her," you giggle softly, wishing you had the freedom to steal another kiss.

"I wasn't trying to do that." Javi hums, even though he is grinning back at you. "Not really. It's just a...perk."

"I would have thought it was the other way around." One hand finds his cheek softly, but you don't let the feeling linger. The last time you touched him even innocently, it had set you on fire.

He hates when you pull away, wanting to lean into your touch and chase your fingers on his skin. "Do you want to leave soon?" He asks. "Since we have ruffled some feathers?"

"Only if you do." A glimpse of a blonde walking out the door says that Lorraine is leaving, and people will always gossip no matter what, but if Javi is enjoying himself then you'll stay here forever. "This is your family, we can stay as long as you want."

"We can leave." Javi hums. He's full and the gossip is going to ramp up. He would rather not make you endure the entire saga of his canceled wedding.

"We should let your dad know." Especially if he wants to go home. Taking the truck means Chucho will either need to call you to come pick him up later or he'll need to get a ride from one of his numerous friends.

Javi nods, wiping his hands on his jeans as he stands. "I'll go let Pop know."

There are several rounds of goodbyes, ultimately, and Javi's family showers you in affectionate hugs and dozens of cheek kisses before sending the two of you on your way. "They love you," you hum, not dropping his hand as you stroll out of the building into the later afternoon sun.

"It's because I'm not around." Javi snorts as he guides you towards the truck, keys in hand. "They remember the boy I was."

"You're still worth loving." And the idea that he would think anything different is utterly ridiculous to your mind.

"Maybe." Javi doesn't dwell on it, moving to open the passenger door for you and watching you as you approach it.

"Definitely." And you're not going to get in the damn truck while he's being self-deprecating. "You're a better man than you give yourself credit for."

He rolls his eyes, not believing you, but he figures this is something you are going to be stubborn about. "Yeah, okay, sure." He huffs after a long moment. "Will you get in the truck?"

"One day you're going to believe me," you promise him, relenting and climbing into the cab.

"Perhaps." Javi sighs. "Or perhaps you will believe me."

"Nope." There are very few things in the world he could ever do to make you lose respect for him or stop loving him – and they really are things that Javier Peña would never do. "We're both too stubborn for our own good. Deal with it."

"Whatever you say." He rolls his eyes again, lips trying to suppress his grin as he closes the door to walk around the hood. You are just as stubborn as he is, but he doesn't mind you believing in him.

The drive back to the ranch is mostly quiet. The radio plays while Javi drives, and halfway down the long road from downtown out to the house, you take a chance on slipping your hand over his on the gear shift. He accepts it wordlessly, like he has the rest of today, but the warmth that runs through you is inescapable.

It's only when you are pulling back up to the ranch that Javi pulls his hand away. Hating the loss of your warmth, he looks over at you once the engine is cut. "Hell of a day."

“Not too bad, hopefully?” The idea of the exercise, of acting like his girlfriend all day, was never to tease or taunt him. But just to give you both a moment of warmth in the midst of everything that was seeming to go wrong.

"No, it was a pretty good day." He admits, staring at you as if he is making a decision. Fighting himself once again.

“And now we have some time to do whatever we want.” Although you wonder what that would be. He could suggest almost anything and you would agree.

"Muñeca." His jaw clenches and he takes a breath. "I– I don't know what's going to happen in D.C." He reminds you. "But, we have tonight."

“Are you…” Sitting there in the cab of his father’s truck, you can practically feel your jaw hit the floorboards. “Are you…suggesting that we evict MacGyver?”

"Unless you want the dog to watch?" He asks, lifting a brow in amusement.

You practically climb over the center console, fusing your lips to his greedily and letting one hand cup his cheek as the other finds its way into his hair with the depth of the kiss. He could invite the entire town to watch and you wouldn’t care.

Javi groans your name against your lips, immediately crushing you against him and his hands turn greedy. Pulling you out of the truck and pressing you against the side. The neediness is only matched by how giddy you feel, and the second you’re both out of the truck you’re pulling him toward the house. “Can’t get in trouble for fucking while we were both suspended.”

"Fuck it." Javi is already unbuttoning his shirt when he has to take his hands off of you. Dropping it on the front porch.

When you come together again it’s like an explosion. One that scatters clothing and moans to the wind and sends both dogs skittering in confusion. Pieces of furniture or doorways in the way are staging areas that you will be pressed against on your way back to the bedroom and nothing more.

At the entrance to the bedroom, Javi licks into your mouth desperately, his cock grinding against you. "Muñeca." He murmurs, kissing along your jaw once he can tear his lips away from yours. "I love you."

“I love you, too.” Your dress lays discarded in the hallway somewhere, your shoes and purse and Javi’s shoes and belt along with it. There will be no doubt of what the two of you have gotten up to when Chucho gets home, but neither of you is even thinking of that right now. Right now Javi is steering you blindly toward the bed and your hands are trying desperately to open his jeans before he manages it.

By the time that the back of your knees hit the bed, his hand has abandoned his jeans. Certain that you would take care of freeing him from the tight confines of the denim, he plunges his thick fingers into your panties, twisting his hand and finding your folds.

“Oh shit—” He swallows your moan completely, adding one of his own to it when you finally manage to pop the buttons on his jeans and get your hand inside. His cock is a s hard as your pussy is wet, making both of you cling that much tighter to each other as you topple backward into the mattress.

"Fuck your cunt is hot." He groans, pushing his fingers deeper, pushing them up inside you to curl up. It's just as hot and tight as he had imagined, several times while he was inside another woman, but he wouldn't tell you that.

“Jesus—fuck—oh my god, Javi—” You knew he would be good. Dozens of women didn’t hang on his every fucking word and expression for no reason. But to feel it is something so utterly different that it has scrambled your mind almost immediately.

"So sweet." He nips your jaw and pumps his fingers into your heat slowly. "Jesus Christ, you feel so good. Imagined this cunt. How you would feel around me."

“Imagined how good your cock would feel.” With one hand around his length, the long strokes you make up and down have his veins pulsing gorgeously. “Jeans don’t leave a goddamn thing to the imagination.”

"Fuck." He hisses, rolling his hips forward. "They are comfortable."

“Drive me fucking crazy every single day.” You pump his cock eagerly, every thrust of his fingers making you nearly grip too tight.

"You fucking drove me crazy." He moans. "C–constantly visiting Gabby to get you out of my head."

“Named my favorite dildo Javi,” you admit with a smirk, twisting underneath him to unclasp your bra. “Still not as good as this cock is going to be.”

"You don't know that." He smirks and ducks his head down to bite your nipple and then sucks on it when you pull your bra off. "Could be horrible at fucking."

“Doubtful.” The way you gasp and undulate under him is practically making the windows fog and you couldn’t give less of a shit. “Very fucking doubtful. I’ve seen the cock drunk looks on the typists’ faces the next day.”

He chuckles and hums as he sucks on your breast again. "I didn't care about them." He reminds you.

“Neither do—fuck—I.” That tongue of his is going to be the death of you. Clever with words but cleverer with pleasure. “Was so fucking jealous, though.”

"They weren't you." He coos, kissing up your chest and then pressing his lips to yours. "No one was you."

The fluttering that carries through you is so deep and so true that you stop altogether, caressing his cheek with your other hand. “I love you, cariño. Since the day we met, I think. There’s just…there’s no one in the world like you.”

"Can't account for taste." He teases gently, nuzzling in your hand. He closes his eyes and sighs softly. "I love you."

“I love you.” As many times as he says it, you will repeat it back to him, reminding him that he is not alone in this feeling. That he never has to be alone again. “And no piece of shit bureaucrat is going to stop me.”

He hums and then starts to tug your panties down. Wanting to touch you. “Fuck–fuck, need a condom.” He needs to be inside you but he's not bought condoms in forever and he damn sure wouldn't trust any that were in this room.

“I’m safe.” The idea of stopping now, when he has your panties halfway down your thighs and his cock out for you to drool over, is absolutely unacceptable. “Thank god for birth control, right?”

"Best invention ever." Javi groans, rushing to kiss you again before he pulls away to his knees so he can strip off your panties and kick off his jeans.

If you giggle at his enthusiasm it’s only because it matches your own. The erratic way your heart is beating says everything needs to: whatever comes next, this night is just for the two of you. It’s probably less suave than he would have imagined, sliding between your thighs. Need making him impatient and fumbling. It had been a long time since he had been so emotionally connected during something like this.

The first kiss of pressure when he slides the head of his cock through your dripping folds and begins to push forward is ecstasy. There is no thought for who else either of you may have touched, no moment of claiming or possession. It is togetherness in the purest sense of the term that has you gasping out loud, moaning his name into the Texas sunset. It feels like you’ve finally found the missing piece of you when Javi fills you completely, and your arching back brings you up to press as much of your body against his as you can manage.

Every second inside you makes his breathing ragged. Now because of the physical act, he’s had sex, great sex. It’s because it’s you. It feels like home. It’s the only way he can describe the way his entire body simultaneously lights up and goes numb to all but the slightest sounds you make as your eyes flutter close and the most delicate whine rips from your parted lips.

“Javi…” Breathing his name again, you wrap one arm around his shoulders and the other braces on the bed beneath you. Like this you can meet every thrust and ply kisses from him with every roll of your hips.

“Fuck, muñeca.” Javi groans, holding you closer as he starts a pace that isn’t quite frantic but enthusiastic.

“So f—fucking perfect.” Already there are beads of sweat down your back and along your forehead, the movements of your bodies eager and fierce as you come together.

His teeth snap together as he pushes into you harder, enough to make your body jolt and a perfect little squeal erupt from your chest.

“Fuck!” It’s good – so good – it’s perfect – the way he feels buried in your pussy, but you need more. You need to be branded by every inch of him so that you can return to this night over and over again in the years to come. “Let me—on your back, baby. Wanna ride you.”

He groans, nodding as he steals a last kiss before reluctantly pulling away. “You knew this was going to happen when we danced.” He pants, accusing you of planning this, but only playfully.

“Hoped.” You can admit that as he sprawls out on his back, giving you the chance to admire him before you straddle his hips and line yourself up to sink down on him. “Honestly thought I was being well behaved for not choosing a slow song.”

“Slow would have been better,” he groans, grabbing your hip when you reach down and wrap your talented hand around his cock. Lifting up so you can take him again. “Driven me crazy.”

“Then we’re even.” Another whine tears from your throat as you sink down on him, but there is no adjustment period this time. Your cunt is slick enough to take three of him and you’re not about to lose this moment to anything. Encouraging his other hand up to your tits, you start to move with the kind of enthusiasm that has sweat beading on your skin all over again.

You look like a fucking goddess. Or maybe a siren. Either way, you tempt him to reach for more. His hands squeeze and hold you like he is afraid you will slip out of his grasp.

“Dreamed about this.” It all comes tumbling out of your mouth as you bounce on him, tight walls of your pussy welcoming him deep inside you every time. “Riding you on the fuck—file room floor. Getting you to bend me over your desk and claim me.”

“You– you like that kind of thing?” Javi groans and twitches deep inside your cunt when you clench around him.

“Not before you,” you admit, looking down at him as you roll and twist your hips. “Now I want it so bad.”

He groans again, hisses slightly at how good it feels when you do that. “Why?” He gasps out.

"You. Would shout it from the f–fuck–ing rooftops." The moan that escapes you is loud enough that you're grateful no one else is home. That, and the fact that you've never been this fucking chatty during sex before. Chucho would find out a whole lot about you if he was home.

He chuckles, more like gasps in amusement as you slam down on his cock again. Groaning your name as he watches you bounce on him. “Fuck, fuck baby.”

"So fucking good." His hand on your hip grips you tightly and you never falter in your pace, working you both toward an end that is going to leave both of you rattling.

“Jesus Christ.” Javi hisses, throwing his head back into the pillow as his hips jerk up. “Fuck baby, you– oh fuck.”

"Didn't think you were the only good lay at the embassy, did you?" You tease, breathless and moaning at the way his cock seems to drill all the way into your belly when you slam your hips down to meet his again.

"You– fuck, you develop a reputation?" He asks, smirking up at you and moaning again when you roll your hips.

"CIA fucks tried." Not that you had let them anywhere near you. They weren't Javi, first of all, and they didn't give you an ounce of respect. Kind of like the guys from Milgroup who tried to get in your pants before they knew you were an agent. "Only wanted you."

He hums, proud of that even though it wasn't fair how much he indulged. Right now they don't matter, nothing matters but you and he lunges up to kiss you.

It catches you off guard enough to send you tumbling to the mattress again, and Javier is above you again before sliding back inside you so easily that the wet pull of your cunt is barely an echo of the way all your nerve endings set off one by one. You were already so close to cumming that your legs were beginning to shake, and the look in his eyes says you're about to be pounded in the mattress in the most breathless and loving way possible.

There has always been an edge to his fucking, a roughness that normally presents itself in the bite of his teeth or harshness if his grip. This time, he uses the sharp snaps of his hips to make sure that you feel every inch of his cock pummel your pussy as he stakes his claim on you.

It's exactly what you said you wanted -- this feeling of being claimed – and you simply let go. He can have you any way he wants as long as he is still fucking you and you won't have a single thing to say about it except to ask for more.

The muscle in his jaw and neck strain as he rocks into you at a pace that keeps your moans breathless and ragged. Hissing again at how good it feels to be inside you.

"Oh fuck — oh fuck, Javi–" His name barely makes it past your lips as your hands tighten on him and you let out another, tighter cry. The air is full of the wet slap of skin on skin and your body is pulling tight as a bowstring. "I'm gonna cum baby, fuck."

“Yes.” Javi groans. “Yesssss.” Feeling your body start to buck and tremble under him and he keeps driving into you. Wanting you to cum for him.

It doesn't take more than another three or four strokes before your vision turns white and stars spark behind your eyes, a long moan pouring from your open lips and his name following after it like he has just fucked it out of the depths of his soul with the last thrust.

Right when you clench down on him, Javi's entire body stiffens. Unable to do more than just tumble over the edge after you and thrust deep, feeling the purest pleasure he has ever known wrack his body as your orgasm heightens his own.

"Holy hell." When you can breathe again you're immediately reaching to wrap your arms around him, pulling Javi close and keeping him there with no thought to having his weight pressing you further into the bed.

Humming, Javi's body relaxes and he sighs as he turns his head to snuggle into your neck and kiss your pulse. "Like that?"

"I'll..." You swallow the bittersweet reality of it as you lie with him in your arms. "I'll never forget it." You can promise him that. Even if tomorrow comes and he wants these moments kept in the folder in his mind meant for daydreams, you will never forget a single second of it.

He groans quietly and shakes his head. "Hard to ever forget."

"I won't say it again if you don't want me to, but...I love you, Javi." The pretending was worth it. You don't regret the decision for a second. But putting your feelings back on the shelf is going to be harder than you had originally thought, and you already knew it was going to be difficult.

"I love you too." Javi pulls back and reaches up to caress your face gently and kiss you one more time before he starts to pull out of you gently.

“Bet you didn’t have this on your Bingo card for having me stay at the ranch.” Laughter is good, it keeps you from sinking down or thinking too much about how this really might be a once in a lifetime experience.

"No," Javi can admit that, rolling onto his back and wishing that he could have a cigarette. Chucho didn't allow smoking in the house and he didn't want to put on pants and go outside. He opens one arm and offers you a place to snuggle up. "I don't think you expected it either."

"Expect? No." His open arm is beckoning you and you curl up against him happily. A cigarette would be fucking perfect right now but you're not even sure where you dropped your purse even if Chucho did allow it inside. "But a girl can hope."

"It's hard to resist you." He admits, looking up at the ceiling as his arm closes around you and his fingers start to map your skin gently. "Hardest thing I've ever fucking done. And I failed."

“Can’t say I’m upset about it, honestly.” If you even claimed it that would be a horrible lie. His soft touches are as tantalizing as his rougher ones, and it is making your skin tingle.

“I gathered.” He hums, smirking slightly. “If I could move I would be having a cigarette right now.” He admits, laughing at himself.

"You and me both," you hum back, feeling a tiny bit embarrassed with how your mouth ran away with you.

“We have D.C. in a few days.” Javi thinks out loud as he watches the fan spin lazily.

"I know." It will mean going back to being coworkers. Leaving this day – this night – behind you and being professional again. You've already gotten suspended for fucking one partner. You don't need to get in trouble for both.

"If I get fired, I've decided that I'm going to come back here." He announces softly, turning his head and looking over at you. "What will you do? Any plans?"

“I have no idea.” And considering you’re pretty certain that you’ll end up getting the boot, you should probably think about it. “Could see if the Marshals will take me back. Or try local PD wherever I end up, I suppose.”

"You know....Pop likes you." He ventures, not daring to look over at you while he broaches the subject. "And MacGuyver is in love with you too. Poor boy would be missing all the love you shower on him. And the scraps you slip him."

It isn’t as subtle or smooth as he thinks it is, the way he lays the idea out for you to consider, and you turn your head to watch him inspect the ceiling instead of actually looking at you. “Are you asking me to stay, Jav? As in stay with you?”

He swallows slightly and opens his mouth a few times, half sounds coming out before he closes it again. Sighing as he rolls his head to the side to meet your gaze and nodding. "Guess I am." He shrugs one shoulder and shoots you a self deprecating grin. "If that's something you would want if you get fired."

“Alright,” you manage to swallow an almost giddy sound and nod, holding yourself to just a broad smile. “If we get fired, I’ll stay.”

"Alright." He nods back at you and tries to smother the pleased look on his face. "If we get fired, we will get into Pop's hair."

“I don’t want to ruin the mood…” you sigh despite yourself. “What if only one of us gets fired?”

"If you get fired, you have a place here then too." He promises, frowning slightly as he tries to imagine what he would do. "If I get fired..." he shakes his head. "You have Pop's number." He grunts. "If you need anyone to talk to when you're on a stakeout."

“If I get fired, you want me to keep living with your dad?” It’s sweet, actually, the way he twists the situations and tries not to overstep. It’s not like you have anywhere else to go, but the way he says it is sweet and almost tentative.

"He's old and he snores way too loud when he's in that damn recliner...." Javi jokes, his hand sliding up and down your back. "But I know he would love the company. Especially if you keep making that one recipe."

“He grows so many damn leeks in his garden, I don’t know how he wasn’t making potato leek soup for years already.” Chancing it, you place a kiss on his shoulder and just let yourself smile. “I don’t want this to be the end either, Jav…I just don’t want you to feel like you have to offer me a place here.”

"I know I don't." His brows knit together and he shakes his head. "That's not why I'm offering. I– if you don't want to stay, you don't have to."

“I want to be with you,” you clarify, and lean up on your arm in his bed. “Fired or otherwise. Long distance or right in the same bed. Fuck, I’d go back to Colombia as a civilian if you asked me to. But only if that’s what you really want.”

"I don't know what will happen, muñeca." He admits softly. "But I don't want to go back to pretending that you are just my work partner."

“Then we will figure it out.” The lines in his face crease when he frowns, all except the slight crows feet by his eyes, and you trace them with your finger without realizing really what you’re doing. “We’ll see what the big bosses say, and we’ll figure out what it means for us.” You shoot him a sly smirk. “And the dog is going to have to learn how to sleep elsewhere again, because leaving the door open isn’t gonna happen anymore.”

"Oh yeah?" The frown slides into a grin that is slightly mischievous. "Why is that?"

“Because,” you pretend to roll your eyes, like you’re sighing over him not getting your joke even though he’s teasing. “As much as I love MacGyver? I’d rather we have the freedom to fall asleep naked, exhausted, and smelling like really good sex.”

"Really good sex." He grunts, his hand coming down to squeeze your ass. "So I need to tell Pop not to poke his head in and check on us during the night anymore."

“Probably for the best.” You snort, not realizing he had been doing that at all. “Unless you want your dad to get an eye full.”

"Might excite the old man into having a heart attack." He chuckles. "Damn near stopped my heart."

“All respect and love to Chucho, but that’s not a view of me I want him to have.” Javier, however? He could tie you up naked to enjoy the view and your only question would be if he was ever going to join you.

"Then I suggest we share a shower before pop gets home." He hums. "We could always sneak out to the back porch to smoke a cigarette naked. No one workin' today."

“Depends.” Sitting up again, you stretch your arms over your head and sigh out happily. “Do you need a little longer? Because I was going to suck your cock in the shower.”

"Fuck." Javi groans, and his cock twitches slightly. "Cigarette, shower, then another cigarette."

“You’re on.” The giggle that floats out of you is easy and free, and you glance back at the shut door guiltily. “And we should probably pick up the mess we made on our way in.”

"Less Pop knows we stripped in the house, the less shit we get." He admits, patting your ass in appreciation and watching you sit up.

“Then get your ass moving, Peña.” You grin and shake your own a little when you get up. “I’m gonna track down my purse.”

"You know you were never actually my boss, right?" He grumbles as he stands up and stretches, scratching his ass before he follows you out of the room. "Being bossy doesn't mean you're the boss."

“Oh, I know I wasn’t before this.” When you smirk at him over your shoulder, it’s devilish. “But we’ve crossed over, cariño. The rules have changed. Girlfriends are always the boss.”

"Great." He scoffs, shaking his head and trying not to smirk. "That's just fuckin' great."

******

"Agent Peña, how much do you know about the Cali Cartel?" The question hangs in the air thicker than cigarette smoke, with Spencer staring down his nose at Javier like a headmaster with an exceptional yet naughty pupil.

Javi shifts in his seat, slightly exhausted from the night of hotel sex that you and he had indulged in. Since you both had to pay for your lodging, he had booked a room that had a jacuzzi tub in the middle of the room and a mirror on the ceiling over the bed. It had been a good fucking night. "I do." He nods, looking back at the man in confusion. He had been brought here for a disciplinary meeting was the working assumption.

"How much?" Spencer prompts again, leaning forward in his chair. If Peña is going to be useless to him then it doesn't matter. But if he has his nose in as much information as people seem to think he does, then Javier Peña may still be an asset to the agency.

Javi shifts and repositions in the chair and stares at the bureaucrat. "Run by Gilberto and Miguel Rodriguez, Cali is estimated to produce over eight percent of the cocaine in the world." He tells him conversationally. "Less violent than Escobar, at least publically. The ‘Gentlemen of Cali’ have legitimate businesses that cover their less than legal enterprises and I'd put their operation at about..." He bobbles his head. "Twenty billion dollars per year."

"Have you had dealings with them? Run-ins? Good information? Things that can be worked with?" Information is its own kind of currency, and Spencer isn't trying to sound greedy for it but that definitely is what he is.

"Their second in command – at least as much as you could call him that – Pacho Herrera, was involved with Escobar." He senses that Spencer wants what Javi knows and pounces on that. "I've still got plenty of connections that deal with him." He shrugs. "Personal ones, you know?"

"Ones that will only work with you." Spencer nods in understanding. Sometimes that is the way criminal informants operate. Everyone in law enforcement understands.

"That's right." He agrees, leaning back in his chair slightly. Waiting for the man to offer the opportunity. From the tone of the meeting it was coming.

"When you're reinstated we'll need you to initiate contact again right away." To the bureaucrat, of course, there is no question. Peña will take the job they are prepared to offer him because he would be an idiot not to. And Javier Peña is many things, but very few people have ever considered him an idiot. "Station Chief is a little different than you're used to but the hours are better and the office is comfortable."

His brow arches in surprise and he waits another minute before he speaks again. He can see Spencer getting impatient, wanting his answer in the affirmative. "Under one condition." He says finally.

"Depends on what it is," the man chuckles, fully expecting a negotiation for an absurd salary jump or some kind of provisional luxury that would be out of the question. He could whittle it down to something doable and they would both consider it a win.

Javi says your name and waits for recognition to register on Spencer's face. "She comes with me to Colombia, and the disciplinary letter is removed from her file."

"Jesus." He sits back, rolling his eyes a little and huffing. "What does this woman have that seems to make all our agents lose their minds over her?" Spencer shakes his head, ready to say no when he sees the dead serious cut of Peña's jaw. "Why her?" He asks instead. "Why not get Murphy back?"

"Murphy’s going back to Miami." Javi reminds him, knowing that being home is the best thing for his and Connie's relationship. "He’ll be happy where he is and she's a good agent." He insists. "Better than Murphy, better than me."

"She's a liability." He reminds the agent on the other side of his desk. "Too emotional. Too sentimental."

"It won't be a problem." Javi assures him. "She's going, one way or another, so you might as well get an agent out of it."

That makes Spencer hesitate, and he looks up from the papers in front of him to level Peña with a stern expression. "You know there is a hard and fast fraternization rule if you're her superior, don't you?"

"Doesn't count if the relationship was established before the promotion." Javi answers, calling his bluff.

"You'll have to provide documentation." This is going sideways just a little and Spencer pulls tight on the reins to make sure he doesn't lose control. "If you can do that, it's all clear."

Javi huffs in amusement and nods. "Fine." He shrugs, the tickets to Texas and the pictures that you had taken on the ranch of the two of you should suffice. "She retains agent status, then?"

Spencer sighs, longer and more irritated than it should be, but it is what it is. "As long as she treads carefully. You're responsible for her now, Peña."

"She should have just gotten a slap on the wrist the last time and you know it." Javi stands and rolls his shoulders back. "We done here?"

"My secretary has your paperwork. Sign it and tell her where to mail your tickets to Colombia. You're back in that embassy in a week," He flashes a murky, insincere smile. "Enjoy the rest of your vacation, Chief."

Nodding, Javi doesn't offer the man his hand, just turns to walk out of the office to find you sitting in a chair on the other side of a very bored looking secretarial desk. "You're up." He murmurs, not wanting to tell you about what had just happened until after you are out of this building.

"Don't sound so excited about it." You try to laugh so that you don't seem nervous, but pass him into the office with a deep exhale. "Sir." It's reflex to close the door behind you, but you don't sit until Spencer waves his hand at the chair that Javi was just occupying.

"Sit." His original plan had been to give you your walking papers, kicking you out of the DEA, but that had been changed by Javier Peña. "This shouldn't take long."

"Yes, sir." You knew it. To keep from deflating, you sit up in that chair as ramrod straight as humanly possible and fold your hands in your lap. You're getting fired. You knew it.

Despite his assurances that it wouldn't take long, Spencer spends several moments shuffling papers and scribbling furiously. He will have to have your records put back and he pulls out the disciplinary letter out of your file to be shredded. "When did you start fucking Peña, agent?" He asks, not looking up as he continues to write. "Before or after you returned to the United States?"

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. You swallow harshly but make sure that your face doesn't change whatsoever. "After, sir."

Spencer finally looks up, watches you for a moment and then nods. "Peña said the same." He tells you. "Relationships between a station chief and an agent are frowned upon, but..." He shakes his head and sighs. "It can't be censured if it happened before a promotion as was just pointed out to me." He stares at you, jaw clenched before he shoots you a bland smile. "Pack your things, agent." He tells you. "You're going back to Colombia."

"Thank you, sir." That is a whole lot of news to take in all at once, and you have to hold yourself up by sheer force of will so that you don't just deflate with relief on the spot. "Immediately?"

"As soon as your tickets can be purchased." He nods before he points at you. "It's your last chance." He warns you. "Peña put his own ass on the line for you. So if you fuck up..." He shrugs. "He can't save you."

"I understand, sir." Life by the book is going to be an interesting way to live with Javier Peña beside you, but it's an adventure you're excited to take.

______

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My Masterlist!

[thefactsofthematter]

hello newsies tumblr! i’m back to post a scene i found in a random wip folder, from a fic that will probably never exist in full lol

please enjoy some sad canon era javid <3

-

"...and I know we don't pray the same way, you and I, but your folks said you might not mind it if I sat with you and did this. Only one God, ain't there, so I figures we can ask Him for all the help we can get, every which way. Ain’t no harm in extra prayers."

That's Jack's voice.

David is awake, sort of, but too tired to open his eyes. His body is itchy, but he's too tired to scratch himself. His throat burns, so he doesn't dare try and speak.

He just lays there.

"This was my Ma's." He's placing something in David's hand. A string of beads, it feels like. "I should take the time to sit and pray it more often. She carried it everywhere. Only thing I've got left of her, really."

He wraps the beads around David's palm.

"You start at the bottom, see," Jack continues, as if he knows David's listening, "and you say a prayer for every bead. And you gotta have an intention, right— mine for today is that I'm asking God to get you better, 'cause you're starting to scare everyone, Dave, what with how you just keep getting sicker and the fever won't break. We can't go losing you anytime soon, so you've gotta get yourself better as soon as you can."

He's very sick, David realizes. That's why he can't move.

He's a bit scared.

But it's hard to stay scared for long with Jack Kelly holding your hand, so he starts to feel calm again.

"In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti," Jack murmurs.

David hadn’t realized Jack knew Latin. Wonders where he learned it, since he would've left school before the grades they started teaching it. He only went to school until he was eight— he told David that.

"Credo in Deum, Patrem omnipotentem, Creatorem caeli et terrae..."

Jack continues on in words that David's tired brain can't make sense of, but it's rhythmic and soothing. There's a cadence to it like Jack doesn't actually know what he's saying, has just memorized the sounds, probably at church— it's like how David felt about some Hebrew prayers when he was little, just echoing back what he heard others speak.

From bead to bead, Jack mumbles quiet prayers, and David finds himself, somewhere in his fever-addled brain, feeling quite charmed and grateful that Jack would show him this private, vulnerable side of himself. His faith is deeply personal to him, David knows— it's there in the way he never puts on his arrogant show towards the nuns, the way he's quick to take his cap off even on the steps of the church, the way he scrubs the littlest newsies into their very best shape on Saturday nights and drags them to mass on Sunday mornings. David loves to watch him in those short moments before he eats his dinner each day, lips moving silently as he gives thanks.

It's a softer side of Jack Kelly that often stays well-hidden, but makes itself very endearing when it peeks through.

"I think I might be praying for a miracle," Jack sighs, after a long time of quiet whispering, counting along the beads. His voice is a bit shaky now. "But they happens, you know. They said so in the good book. I know it's the very same God lookin' after you and I, and I know He loves you and won't take you away from us here on Earth, not just yet. Ain't your time."

And he takes the beads from David's palm, replacing them with his own hand. He intertwines their fingers and squeezes.

David tries to squeeze back. It's weak, pitiful, but enough for Jack to gasp.

"I knew it," he whispers. "Oh, I knew it, I knew it, Dave. You're there, ain't you? You're listening."

And David wishes he could give him anything more, but he can feel sleep creeping up on him again, so he lets it come. Not much else he can do, but it's nice to hear some hope in Jack's voice.

[whositmcwhatsit]

Glimmers of Dawn

AN: This is a belated birthday present for one of my favourite people @ellie-24. I have been promising her a BDE fic for months and this is the beginning of one at least? As our guy once said: "I hope you like it. It doesn't make much difference."

“This is crazy! Are you sure we’re allowed?” 

Steve rolled his eyes at her like he did this every day, like it was nothing. But if it was nothing, he would not have suggested it. 

_______________________________________________________

Aurora had been sliding on her denim jacket at the bar, ready to go home to Johnny Carson and the dried out meatloaf that her mother had been cooking when she had ducked home after work to change. She had already given in to Joanne’s plea to stay for another round and that had left her with nothing but a numb butt from sitting perched on the bar stool while she watched her friend flirt with the tall, shaggy-haired guy at the pool table. Now the guy was draped over Jo’s back as she giggled and lined up a shot, pretending to miscue so that he could ‘correct’ her. 

Aurora gave Jo a little wave to get her attention over the heavy rock playing over the tinny speakers and then thumbed towards the door, making the phone and time gestures to let her know she would call her later. 

“You’re not leaving so soon?” asked one of the other guys playing pool. He was tall too, and broad shouldered but athletic looking with it and had a mustache to go with this long brown hair. 

“Yeah, it’s getting late and I got things to do in the morning,” Aurora said apologetically. “It was nice meeting you though… Steve, wasn’t it?” 

“I can’t talk you into one last, teeny tiny drink?” She paused, considering. The thought of the meatloaf wasn’t exactly appetizing and it wouldn’t be the first time she showed up on a Sunday morning to take her grandmother to church on a whisper of sleep. She relented, but then the bartender reminded Steve that he had called last orders ten minutes ago and no amount of wheedling or good natured threats could change his mind. 

“Forget it, man!” called the guy who was currently taking a break from inspecting Jo’s tonsils. “Let’s just go up to the house.” 

“Naw, you sure? The Boss-”

“Won’t even know anything about it. He ain’t come down in three days, man, in more ways ‘n’ one.” 

Aurora frowned questioningly at Joanne, who shrugged back as the two men worked it out, and suddenly they were leaving the bar. 

“So, where exactly are we going?” Aurora asked, as she and Steve followed Jo and Dave, his name turned out to be, into the parking lot. She could feel Steve nervously eyeing her as they watched Dave sling his arm casually around Jo’s shoulders and stick his tongue in her ear. She had already prepared a sharp elbow in the ribs in case Steve got the same idea. 

“Uh, the place where I work has a pool room and a bar.” 

“You work in a bar?” She was trying to figure out why he was being so cagey. Wondering if maybe he was embarrassed, but that didn’t make sense if he was going to take her there. 

“No, it ain’t… It ain’t a bar.” 

Even as she was climbing past the folded seat into the back of Dave’s Datsun, Aurora was having second thoughts. The cool night air had cleared her buzzing head and chased off the last of the energy powering her limbs after a full day of work. She started preparing her speech for when they got to where they were going, so she could call a cab and head home, with or without Joanne. 

‘Look, it’s nothing personal’, she would say. ‘I just had a really long day.’

And then the Datsun turned right on the highway at the gates of Graceland.

“What are you-?!” Aurora gripped the headrest of the driver’s seat in front. “Are you kidding? God, I don't have time for this.” 

Fooling around and trying to break into Elvis Presley’s house was for kids and tourists. If these guys thought it was going to impress her, she would be glad to correct them. 

The gates opened. 

“Are you sure we’re allowed?” she asked again, staring at the  lights ahead and trying not to catch the eyes of the smattering of people standing outside the gates even at this hour.

Someone was sure to realise that they were not supposed to be there and they would be stopped. She wondered if the security guards really did have guns like the stories said. All sorts of crazies probably wanted to try and hurt a huge star like Elvis; there could be FBI snipers in the trees. 

“It’s okay,” Steve said finally, though his tight jaw didn’t exactly make him seem convincing.

The way that Dave shushed Joanne when she was laughing and squealing with excitement about seeing inside Elvis’ house also didn’t fill Aurora with a huge amount of confidence. 

It seemed deathly quiet and still as they went in the back. Aurora thought there should have been music, maybe ‘Hound Dog’ playing on a jukebox like they were stepping into one of his movies. Her aunt Phyllis would be green with envy that she was there. 

The guys crowded them in so it was hard to see exactly where ‘there’ was. Muted lighting, stairs, a lot of wood, and then a… a tent? 

“So, where's Elvis?!” Joanne asked, as they took in the busy pleated material sweeping out from the ceiling and draping down the walls surrounding the pool table. 

It made Aurora feel like she was trapped in her bed covers. She took in a strangled breath to reassure herself that she still could. Meanwhile, Joanne bent at the waist to check under the pool table- God, how much had she had to drink?!- as if Elvis could be lying in wait under there. 

“You think he'd sing ‘Don't be Cruel’ for me? That was my favorite when I was little.”

“He's probably sick of singing it,” Aurora told her, grabbing Jo's arm and shoving her sideways onto a sofa before she broke something and the King of Rock ‘n’ Roll had them in court for millions of dollars. 

Their secret out in the open, the guys seemed eager to tell them about their jobs and all the dangers and intrigue it entailed. It wasn’t all fetching and carrying, they assured the girls, there were some real bad guys out there who wanted to get a shot at Elvis and they were the reason that these bad motherfuckers had never got their shot. 

“You know a head honcho of the FBI said Elvis has better protection than the President,” Dave remarked, just before he potted the cue ball and swore under his breath. 

“Yeah? You ever meet the President?” Joanne asked, rolling her eyes at Aurora behind her hands. 

“No… No, the Boss did, though, more than one.” 

“Must’ve been when you weren’t on duty,” Joanne murmured. “Seriously, where is he, your boss? Isn’t he home? He’s gotta be home if you’re here, right?” 

“He likes to relax upstairs after he gets back from a tour,” Dave mumbled, racking up the pool table. “Things can get pretty intense.”

“I bet,” Joanne giggled. “All those mamas and grannies throwing their girdles at him.”

“Jo!” Aurora elbowed her and flashed an apologetic smile at the two guys.. “Sorry, a little beer on an empty stomach goes straight to her head. Can we maybe get some water?” 

The guys exchanged looks again, and Steve sighed and shrugged, glancing up at a camera with a little red light on it that Aurora hadn’t noticed before. 

“Sure, no problem. Follow me.” Aurora nodded and smiled, glancing back over her shoulder to watch Dave drop down into her space beside Joanne on the sofa. 

“I’m sorry about Jo. She just gets over excited, she doesn’t mean nothing by it.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Steve replied as they climbed the stairs. “You hungry? They can make pretty much anything you want in the kitchen.” 

Aurora followed him into a sleek, modern kitchen, all patterns and walnut. It was like walking around a maze. She had no idea where she had come from, nor where she was going, but she was vibrating with amazement that she had finally made it inside the house on the hill. 

The next time she drove past on the way to the mall she would be able to imagine what was going on inside. She could think of about fifteen customers at the salon whose toes would curl with jealousy when she told them. 

There were two ladies in the kitchen, their pale matching uniforms, the only plain, unpatterned material Aurora had seen in the house so far, were stark against their skin. Aurora could feel her cheeks burning, waiting for them to point out that she shouldn’t be there and call security, but they barely paid her any mind. 

Imagine having people whose job it was to just sit in your kitchen waiting for you to want a snack at one am! Aurora did catch one of the ladies glancing at her, her face unreadable, but her thoughts not impossible to imagine. She knew she was out of place, there but for the grace of Steve in her cut off jean shorts and her thrift store spaghetti strap blouse, staring starry-eyed at the glimmering glass or maybe crystal in the glass-fronted cupboards as sizzling sounds started coming from the stove. She could feel herself getting smaller, tucking in her edges and minding her manners, making less of herself so that she would be less of a blight. 

“Well, what do we have here?” 

The voice was soft and unmistakable, whether it was on the radio, in movie theaters, or in a strange kitchen in the middle of the night. 

Everyone immediately whipped around to look, but Aurora’s brain instead made her freeze on the kitchen stool. It told her that she couldn’t turn and face Elvis Presley with her mouth full. For some reason that seemed the ultimate violation.

So, she chewed and chewed the suddenly vulcanized bread as the seconds stretched into decades. Finally, when it had become too weird, she tried to force the ball of dough down her throat and ended up almost choking, swilling it down with a frantic gulp of water. 

“Steve, son, if you’re gonna sneak pretty girls into my house at least don’t try and kill ‘em in my kitchen. It’s, uh, bad for business.” 

A warm weight rested on her shoulder and squeezed as she looked up through watery eyes at Elvis Presley, up close in person. Her brain couldn’t take it all in at once, just fragments like the black hair, the sideburns, the gold aviator sunglasses, the smile… Even with her airway clear, Aurora was not exactly breathing. 

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” She watched the familiar pillowy lips move as the words filled her ears, not completely in sync. His hand on her shoulder, his cologne in her nose, it was a fully immersive experience and she had already been finding it hard enough to comprehend standing in his kitchen. 

“Yeah, it went down the wrong way,” she heard someone say, and it kind of sounded like her. 

“Well, honey, looking at that ugly mug over there was always gonna give you indigestion. Nothing personal, Steve, you just got that look-” He laughed a little to himself. “Liable to give this young lady heartburn or something, you know.” 

Steve stood awkwardly on his other side like he was trying to gauge the mood, trying to figure out whether it was time for an explanation or an apology, and Aurora was trying to feel bad for him, but all she could feel was Elvis’ hand still on her shoulder, and the sleeve of his jacket brushing against her skin. There was pressure there, like he was leaning on her a little, and she tried to stay still when her pounding heart was telling her to try and run.  

“What’s your name, darlin’?” He pulled off his sunglasses and stumbled back a little, pretending that the low lighting of the kitchen was blinding, rubbing his slightly puffy eyes, before they narrowed as they fixed on her. Then it was Aurora who felt like squinting, trying to take it all in. 

“I’m Aurora,” she said. Then, for some reason she thought it might make things better somehow if she added, “You have a lovely home.” As if she was an invited guest coming over for iced tea on the porch. She was such an idiot. 

“Well, thank you, Aurora. Aurora, is that right?” 

Her name was a little unwieldy in his mouth, like he couldn’t quite get his tongue around it. Her face burst into flames as soon as she thought about his tongue. 

Luckily, he didn’t seem to notice, seeing as he was turning to berate Steve a little more, pointing out that at least she had some manners, unlike some people. 

Elvis had gray in his sideburns, Aurora noticed, as her muscles stiffened in the tense atmosphere and she was unable to look away. It made sense, he had been about her age when he first got famous, and that had been… a while. But it was still weird to think about Elvis going gray. She couldn’t picture him as an old man. In fact, the idea made her a little sad. But then the alternative would be worse. 

“Child,” he intoned suddenly, interrupting whatever he had been saying to put Steve in his place, and turning back to her with a twinkle in his eye, “you have gotta lower the beams on those pretty eyes of yours, they are practically melting my face off!” 

And that, more than the gray roots and the stumbling over her name, helped Aurora’s perspective click back into focus. The fancy furniture and the maids and the cooks and the Elvis-ness of him had turned her head for a while, made her feel off kilter, but she knew this dance very well.. 

“Well, it’s not like I can help it when you’re standing so close to me!” she retorted playfully. “You’re not made of glass you know!” 

The crooked smile crept across his face like the tide coming in and she felt herself slipping beneath the waves, drowning.

“You got some nerve, honey, I’ll give you that,” he said, shaking his head. “How ‘bout you finish eating my food and I’ll give you a real tour of this old place?”

“Look, if it means so much to you, you can have the rest of the sandwich,” she said, her careful, watchful eyes belying her teasing, irreverent tone. She knew she was in dangerous territory, her mama would have hissed a warning and cuffed her across the back of the head for being so rude, but the light that glittered in his heavy lidded eyes when she gave him some sass was too enticing to ignore. She didn’t think that too many people dared to tease Elvis Presley and that made her feel a little bad for him.  

In response, he gently ‘snatched’ the glass of water she was clutching and turned it until his luscious lips were in the same place hers had been, taking a sip. She somehow froze while also melting at the same time at the glittering challenge in his gaze and the faint twitch of his eyebrow. In that moment, she realized that she had vastly miscalculated how evenly matched they were in this battle. 

Luckily, she was rescued by Joanne, who had found her way upstairs and came reeling slightly into the kitchen, clutching Aurora’s jacket, and mumbling that she wanted to go home. She got as far as knocking into Aurora’s back before- and Aurora was never going to let her forget it- she shrieked:

“Oh Elvis! Oh shit!” 

Without context, it would have been impossible to tell whether she had caught sight of Elvis or a mouse running across the floor. What made it funnier was the complete non-reaction of Elvis himself, and the way that he locked eyes with Aurora for a long second, as if to say, ‘See what I have to deal with?’

Then he was introducing himself to Joanne, shaking her limp hand and saying he was pleased to meet her like it was all prearranged and they hadn’t effectively broken into his house in the middle of the night. 

Oh Elvis, oh shit, Aurora’s brain said helpfully, Elvis Presley is a nice guy. 

Sitting in his kitchen, trying to hold a loud, flailing Joanne with one arm and not failing to notice how uncomfortable Dave and Steve looked, Aurora began to feel grimy. It was one thing to take a peek at how the other half live, to get a glimpse of a rarefied existence, but it was another thing to barge in, do questionable things on the couch and make yourself a sandwich. The goldilocks giddiness had soured into shame. 

“So, um,” she began as she stepped backwards over her stool like the world’s clumsiest cowgirl, “we’re really sorry for trespassing…” She still couldn’t bring herself to say his name out loud. “And we should probably get going.”

“Well now, wait a damn minute, honey, I promised you a tour, and by God, that’s what you’re gonna get!” This time, she didn’t giggle on cue.

Aurora wasn’t clever, but she was smart. She might not have read fancy long books, but she knew people and she knew men, best of all. Her mama made sure of that, because she didn’t want her to end up the same way, fooled by some good looking lying man who looked good in a fancy borrowed suit. 

It occurred to her, as she watched Dave and Steve share yet another long look, that this could all be some elaborate trick. It wasn’t like she and Joanne had asked the guys to bring them to Graceland, hadn’t twisted their arms, hadn’t even known they worked there before they brought it up. And the two guys had barely debated it before they were all suddenly getting into the cars. 

What if it was a set-up? What if Dave and Steve did this regularly, went out trolling for girls to bring back for their boss? What if she had walked into some weird situation straight out of the Hollywood gossip magazines?

“I have to get home,” she said, fumbling for excuses, “I gotta get up early to take my grandma to church and I have a couple of clients after that.” 

“Clients?” She didn’t understand his strange tone, but she simmered under his appraising eye, and instinctively held her jacket in front of her like it could transform into a pair of baggy pants. 

“She’s a hairdresser, she cuts hair,” Steve said sulkily, defensively. 

It felt like there were twelve different conversations going on in fifty different languages and it was too late and Aurora was too tired to deal with it all. It had been a fun adventure, but now it was time to go home. 

“Well, you know, I've been needing a haircut myself,” Elvis remarked with a strange, sly grin on his face, looking at Steve, who was irritably shuffling his feet against the carpet. “What do you say, honey?” 

“Your hair looks fine,” she replied, before turning to Steve and raising her eyebrows in a silent plea.

“No, really, if it gets any longer I’ll start looking like one of those weirdo freaks this one listens to,” Elvis joked, nodding towards Dave with his Led Zeppelin t-shirt stretched tight across his chest. “Nice guys, but complete weirdos, man.” 

Aurora was pretty sure that nobody was about to get Elvis Presley and the guys from Led Zeppelin mixed up, but saying so would have taken her over that line from light teasing to downright unkindness that she would never cross. 

“I’m sorry, I haven’t got my kit with me and I’m so tired, I don’t think I should be trusted with scissors.” 

“I’ll go start the car,” Steve said, turning towards the kitchen door. 

“No! Now, hold up, man, nobody’s going nowhere ‘til I say so. S’cuse me for a minute, ladies, I think I need to have a word here with these so-called employees of mine.” Elvis’ tone was aggravated, like he was working hard to keep it even, behaving for company.

Joanne and Aurora looked at one another, shrugged, and stepped past the door that led down to the basement and found themselves in the red carpeted foyer, looking towards the front door. They listened carefully, but could only hear murmuring from back in the kitchen. 

Joanne squeezed her arm and pulled a triumphant face, hissing, “Fucking Elvis, man!”

“Shh, they might hear you.” Aurora occupied herself with staring up at the chandelier, watching the way the light was reflected back on the glass walls. She couldn’t imagine living in a house that had a chandelier. She wondered if Elvis ever marveled on it since he had grown up just as poor as her, maybe even more so. 

“You think he thought we were call girls?” Joanne asked, moving to lean against the staircase and resting her head on the banisters. She yawned wide enough to show the fillings 

in her back teeth. “When you said ‘clients’ they all got this weird look. Maybe he wants you to cut his hair to test your story.”

“I ain’t cutting anyone’s hair, I’m dead on my feet,” Aurora grumbled. 

“Not even if he offers you a thousand dollars?”

“Well, maybe for a thousand dollars.” She sleepily contemplated what she would spend a thousand dollars on. She wondered how much a chandelier cost. 

“Hell, for a thousand dollars I’d pretend to be the call girl!” They both snorted and giggled, before sighing into the still peace of the foyer. 

“He looks a little different from the movies though,” Joanne observed. “He’s got… heavier.” 

“Yeah,” Aurora conceded with a shrug. “Still Elvis though.” She giggled. “‘Oh Elvis! Oh Shit!’”  

“Shut up!” Joanne groaned, donking her head against one of the banisters. “I bet you didn’t come out with anything deep or profound when you saw him.” 

Aurora’s throat was still a little sore from where she had forced a fistful of bread through it while choking, but she kept that to herself. 

Finally, Dave shuffled out to let them know they could return from exile and led them back into an empty kitchen. When he spoke, he sounded annoyed and Aurora wondered if he had got a ticking off from Elvis too. Maybe it hadn’t been a set up after all. 

“C’mon.” He nodded towards a set of the stairs that curled up round a wall in the corner of the room. 

“Where?” she countered. 

“Look, just cut his fucking hair a little, all right? Pretend if you have to, we’ll be heading out on tour soon and he’ll have his hairdresser do it properly then anyway.” 

Aurora looked at the staircase and thought about getting back into the Datsun and going home. She thought about telling the ladies at the salon about her weekend, the way they would say, ‘And what happened then?!’ And she would have to finish her surreal recount with, ‘Then I chickened out and went home.’ 

That would be a lame ending to the story. 

And so she found herself leaning in front of Elvis Presley, examining his wet bangs as she ran them through the comb, scissors clutched in hand, standing in the most outrageously opulent bathroom she had ever seen. 

“You shouldn’t wrinkle your forehead like that, you know, honey,” he observed, his breath tickling the column of her throat. “You’ll look old before your time.”

Her frown shifted from one of concentration to intense control, trying to stop herself from shivering because it felt like he was murmuring into her ear. 

“My face does what it wants,” she replied finally, snipping the tiniest fragment of an inch. “I don’t have too much of a say in it. Keeps me honest, otherwise who knows what I’d be doing instead of cutting hair day and, apparently night now too.” 

They had negotiated down to just trimming the bangs, and now that she was confronted with his mass of fine hair, she was grateful. Everyone knew that half the teen population back in the day had flipped their lids when they cut off Elvis’ hair in the army. Aurora didn’t want to become the target of those same women today, stronger, smarter, and old enough to own handguns.

“What would you be instead, if you could choose?” She made the mistake of looking at his face when he asked. It was a trap. Framed by dark, weary shadows, the murky blue of his eyes had all but swallowed up the pupil and it felt like they were looking at something within her, somewhere she didn’t even want to let people know existed.  

“I don’t know. If you ask my memaw, there are only a few careers a girl can have with a name like mine. I picked the most respectable. There we go, all done.”

“What kind of name is Aurora anyway?” Searching, his damn eyes were searching and she couldn’t seem to distract him.

“I don’t exactly think we should be making fun of people’s names, Elvis. Especially not when some of us are holding scissors.” He snorted and laughed to himself. It sounded so young and silly that she knew it was real. 

“Aurora means dawn or light. You know the Northern Lights? Those squiggly colorful lights up in the North Pole? Their real name is Aurora Borealis. And you know, Sleeping Beauty’s name was Aurora.” 

It was the well worn explanation she had been trotting out since she was knee high to a cricket, not that it ever made any difference to the bemused, baffled or disdainful faces of the gangs of kids or customers at her father’s store that demanded she explain herself. 

She caught sight of Elvis’ reflection studying her, but not in the way that he had been before, the way that men often studied her, appraising and pricing her up like her daddy did with cans of soup. No, this was a different kind of look. 

“Dawn,” he murmured, his gaze seeming to look past her. “Sleeping…Beauty… Might be something to this…” His eyes seemed to click back into focus and he smiled at her, that crooked smirk that everyone in the world imagined in their head when someone said the name Elvis Presley. “It’s pretty, sweetheart, I was just kiddin’.”

When she followed him out of the bathroom, he mumbled, “Think fast!” And before she could even decipher his words, she was catching the tiger statue he had tossed at her. It was heavy enough it could have probably cracked her skull if she hadn’t caught it. 

“Whoa, was the haircut that bad that you had to try and kill me?!”

“No, honey, it was fine, but it’s like you, you see.” She could tell something corny was coming from the silly little grin and the way he paused to laugh at himself. “It’s a roarer.” She groaned, but giggled as he laughed, his brows knitted together in a pained acknowledgement of how corny he had been. 

“Woo, well, it’s lucky you’re pretty,” Aurora replied, doing what she thought was a damn fine impression of her grandma, who always said it like it was. 

When Elvis snorted a little, but didn’t say anything else, she wondered if she had caught him off guard and made him a little bashful. She made a show of giving the ceramic tiger a scritch under the chin like it was a pussy cat and then went to hand it back. 

“No, no,” he replied, waving his hand. “It’s yours, honey, you caught it. Them’s the rules.”

“Well, thank you… You know, it puts a whole new perspective on those folks you gave cars to. They probably belong in a circus.” He didn’t reply, just sat down on his bed and shuffled back against the pillows, picking up one of the books that lay strewn across the comforter. 

Not knowing quite what she was supposed to do, she petted the tiger under her arm and started edging towards the door. If she couldn’t make a glamorous exit, she could at least minimize the awkwardness of it. 

“Hey, you know…” Her eyes fixed on him as she did her little side shuffle, she saw him glance up from his book and his expression go from open to frowning. “Where you goin’?”

I thought we were… I thought you were waiting for me to leave.” He shook his head, looking slightly irritated, and then patted the bed heavily by his legs. 

Aurora thought of Steve waiting downstairs and then shrugged, walking over to the bed. You didn’t ignore an Elvis for a Steve. She perched on the edge of his bed and watched as he rooted around on his nightstand, sliding on a pair of gold framed glasses and shooting her a sheepish look. 

“The lightning of the Word will illumine the abysses.

New, new, new ones, beautiful ones, sensitive ones, 

Exalted ones, will be assembled.

The Teacher has entrusted thee to manifest Him.” He read it like poetry or scripture and it sounded dramatic and lovely to Aurora’s ears, but then he stopped and he looked at her like she was supposed to do or say something. It was like standing at the front of the class on book report day with nothing in her hands. Her face burned all the way back to her ears. 

“You ever heard anything like that before, honey?” he asked finally, his eyes back to scanning the text, leaving her to writhe in her ignorance and humiliation. 

“No, I don’t think so.” She looked longingly at the black padded door standing open and then down at her tanned toes, half submerged in the thick red shag pile carpet as if her sandals weren’t even there. “I was never too good in school.”

“School,” he muttered, shaking his head. “You don’t learn nothing worth knowing in school. I mean no disrespect to the teachers, but-” He sighed loudly. “You know most people use but one percent of their brains, one percent! Just focussing on the Mickey Mouse shit, uh, workin’ and paying the bills and having a good time, coveting their fuckin’ neighbor’s whatever… Never knowing what’s really important.” 

Aurora stared at him as he continued his diatribe, a little impressed at how he weaved in foulmouthed quotes from the Bible. Nobody was going to believe this was how she spent her Saturday night.

“I’ve been studying all this a long time, it takes discipline and dedication. Honey, why don’t you come on up here and get comfortable?” He gestured to the space beside him on the pillows, the space usually occupied by glamorous models and beauty queens, one of whom was beaming with fierce intensity at her from a framed picture on the dark wood unit against the wall. 

“Um, can I bring Muffin?” He lifted an eyebrow and she tilted the tiger she still had tucked into her hip. “I named him Muffin.” 

“Well, I was talking to Muffin anyhow, but I guess he can bring you.” He shook his head, his cheekbones brimming as he smirked and watched her shuck her sandals and clamber up gracelessly from the bottom of the bed. “You’re kinda silly.” He leant forward and gave her a lightning fast kiss on the lips, just warm and wet and gone. “I like that.” 

And then he read to her, for over an hour. Sleepily leaning against the pillow, Aurora slid her finger underneath the stretchy strap of her watch as it was pressing into her skin. Her eyes caught sight of the time and she pushed herself up, feeling a little dazed and dizzy. 

Having sunk back into his pillows too, Elvis was still reading, his voice barely above a whisper and he didn’t seem to notice her sitting up. Tentatively, she reached out and touched his arm and then said his name. It took him a beat or two to register the interruption. 

“It’s getting really late,” she said apologetically. “I think I should go find Steve, he’s my ride home.” 

“Aw, honey, he went, he’s gone.” 

Aurora smiled anxiously, not sure if he was joking. “He better not be. It’s a long walk back to my house.” 

“I’ll have someone take you home, don’t worry about that,” he murmured, his words slipping and sliding together.

“Well, It’s getting pretty late,” she said again. 

He lowered his book and went to say something, but seemingly changed his mind. Instead, he reached over with a grunt and picked up the phone, gruffly asking who was on duty. Aurora busied herself with slipping back into her shoes and hefting Muffin back onto her hip. 

Elvis put down the receiver of the red phone and climbed off the bed. 

“I’d like to see you again, if that’s okay with you?” The way he said it was oddly formal and solemn, a complete contrast to the way he had teasingly beckoned her onto his bed earlier. It threw her enough that she forgot to be overwhelmed.

“Sure!” She cringed inwardly at how high pitched her voice sounded and tried to clear her throat discreetly. 

“Let me take down your number and I'll call you.” 

Elvis rifled through the contents of his nightstand and snatched up a pen and then, with a shrug, opened the front cover of his book.

It was about then that Aurora's brain caught up with the situation and her hand shook as she reached for the pen and scrawled ‘Aurora + Muffin’ alongside her number on the inside cover of his book. When she handed it back, he teased her by turning the book upside as he squinted at it. 

“What is this, hieroglyphics?!” 

And Aurora laughed goodnaturedly, even though she had been teased her whole time at school for her poor penmanship and inability to improve it. She laughed even though, as a rule, she never let anyone get away with making fun of the things she couldn’t change. Something about him defused all those defenses designed to detonate on a hair trigger. 

Aurora felt Elvis follow her to the bedroom door without seeing him. It was a weird feeling, like wearing a heavy cape made of ice. She was almost afraid to check in case it all evaporated like a dream and she woke up in her pilling pink blankets and worn rosebud sheets. 

The heavy, warm hand that came to rest on her shoulder was a surprise and a reassurance then, as she felt him turn her. She took a step back, since he was that much taller and they were standing so close together that she was face to face with the dip at the base of his throat, able with microscopic clarity to see the way his golden chest hair curled behind the thick gold chain he was wearing with the strange symbol that looked to her eyes like a musical note with extra parts. 

“Um, sorry,” she murmured, looking away, even though he had been the one to crowd her. He smiled softly, angling his head and pressing his soft full lips against hers. She jolted, almost choking again, and saved herself by grabbing hold of him, clutching at his waist, thick but firm, with her free hand and pressing in against him. His lips were soft and lush, like no other man’s she had kissed before. They tickled and teased, and sent shivers that spread down her spine and radiated through her body. 

When his tongue first brushed and then slid against hers, she let out a little whine that had him huffing a laugh and drawing back, his hand cradling her jaw.  

“You sure you gotta go, baby?” he asked softly in that low, intimate voice that made her legs quiver. “We could just sleep, you know. I wouldn’t- I wouldn’t try anything.”

“I trust you,” she replied, though she wasn’t sure she did. “It’s me I don’t trust.” Which was one hundred percent true.

He pulled her in again by her chin, but she still wasn’t ready as they both exhaled in playful frustration. She nibbled on his ripe bottom lip even as she was pulling away. 

Aurora made it to the outer door that led to the stairs before he called her back. 

“Hey Tiger!” She let her shoulders and face slump with indignation as she realized she had answered to the silly name. “We’re going to see each other again, sweetheart.” She smiled at the previously unimaginable picture she was walking away from- Elvis Presley framed by the light in a doorway, his hair rumpled and tousled (her fault) and his mouth wet and swollen (even more her fault). “Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find.” 

“Sure.” Frowning a little through her smile, she nodded and turned back to the stairs. Was he talking about himself or was he talking about her? Maybe he was talking about Muffin. She hefted the tiger a little higher under her arm and clumped down the stairs, blearily opening the front door to greet the dawn. 

@thatbanditqueen, @vintageshanny, @be-my-ally @lookingforrainbows, @from-memphis-with-love, @peskybedtime

[unlikelyempathpruneauthor]

Arvin x Reader One shot

A/n: back again and most likely disappear had this in one of my drafts hehe hope you enjoy!! before you read there are mentions of a person unaliving themselves so slight trigger warning ‼️

You met Lenora at school sitting in the lunchroom all lonesome,you walked over to her and had stares like daggers when you made your way to her. She looked up and all she could do was stare at you and your bows in your hair with your nice smile as you placed your things on the table and sat across from her, “hi, im y/n, what's your name?” she asked as Lenora was in awe of your kindness, “im Lenora…you sure you wanna sit here?” she asked as you nodded, “yeah, is it okay if i sit here?” you asked as she smiled, “yes, it's very nice to have someone here,” she said as you two talked about anything. Lenora loved how she would spend time with you and she had even explained as to why she was all alone.Her family was such a talk around here, they had gone through so much. The time you had with her was nice. In the beginning you only saw her in the lunchroom, after school you never got sight of her. As time went on you found out why she sped on home, there was this group of boys who would tease her about herself and how her brother arvin had a special relationship according to them and no evidence at all of what was going on.

“They just got nothin better to do,” she explained and you fully believed in her word, “i believe you, those dumbasses probably have it worse that's why they say words that aren't true,” you said as she nodded as you and her walked out of school, “the good thing is they stopped, but it really scares me sometime,”

Out of nowhere this boy walked up to you two, “lenora i thought i told you to book it once the bell rings,” he spoke looking at you then her, “i know, but- oh god where are my manners, y/n this is arvin my brother and arvin this is probably my only friend in this whole school,” she said as you nodded, “hi, sorry for taking her away for a little, just wanted to make sure she was getting home fine,” you explained to arvin as he just couldn't keep his eye off you, “i-its okay sorry, its just i get real worried, it's nice to meet you y/n,” he said still stern as he was he walked back to his car as he looked over at you two talked, “well i'll see you later yeah?” lenora said, “yeah don't worry i'll probably see you at church at latest,” you suggested as she nodded having a better idea, “you know what, what if you come for dinner saturday, that way you can sleep over and we can go to church on sunday,” as you nodded, “Really? You sure?” you asked knowing her momma was strict about it. She was more sure than anything, her momma knew that she had no friends, but after hearing so much about you she was more than happy to have you over and spend time with them.

The time you had with the Russell family was like having another family. You only had your aunt who took you after your daddy died in the war. You didn't have a mother, she left you with your daddy after having you, so you had more in common with Lenora and her folks than people thought. This also gave you time with arvin on a personal level, he liked you since the minute he saw you, he felt what his daddy felt when he saw his momma. 

“Now come on, lenora wont mind, if anything she will be happy we got together,” arvin said as you walked along the sidewalk reading your book, “oh arvin you are such a tease, you do realize when she sees us together she seeing those damn bells ringing,” you smirked as he smiled, “oh honey you ain't seen nothin yet, you will hear those bells ringing i will be marrying you,” which made you look up, “you are one crazy boy,” he said placing a kiss on your cheek, “only for you sweetheart,”

When Lenora killed herself, you found her in the closet looking for her, she wasn't feeling too good for church so you brought her medicine to feel all better, “now where could she be? Lenora! Girl, where are you-” you opened the door and saw her hanging by the rope, your heart was clenching and it only took you a moment to react, “Oh my…Arvin! Help! Please!” you repeated over and over, arvin ran as quick as he could and saw you screaming for his sister, took him a moment to react too and help you get her off the rope. All you remember was there was so much screaming. Lenora was the last person you would think to do this. 

Which leads you to where you are now, you and arvin got married even after everything that happened to arvin you stuck with him. You two both had terrible lives, but now you were given the chance to live the way you deserved after everything. In a new town where no one knew yall. You bought a house together and worked jobs for the time being and just saw how life would treat you. 

You weren't feeling too good lately so you called out of work for a couple days, “you sure you're feeling good? Why don't I take you to the doctor, even better call him here hon,” you nodded, “im okay it's probably the flu arv, just go to work, i'll call you if anything happens, yeah?” you assured him as he nodded, he kissed you goodbye and headed to work hoping you were okay. He hated when you got sick he worried so much it had reminded him of his momma and especially Lenora. He knew you were not capable of doing such, but being sick just reminded him of awful memories. 

He hurried on home with some medicine and some soup hoping it made you feel better, he walked in and started calling your name, “y/n honey i got some soup and some stuff that will-” he was cut off seeing you laid out on the floor, he was quickly to panic trying to wake you up as you got out of the state you were in, “arvin, what happened,” you said looking around your surrounding seeing you had been on the ground, “you were just on the ground like you was dead, what- did someone do something? What happend?” he said, still quite panicked, " I was just getting water, that's it,” you said as he picked you up and he called the doctor. 

The doctor ran all the tests insisted by arvin wanting to make sure everything was okay, once the doctor walked toward arvin he was quick to stand, the news he had just heard was far from his mind than anything he expected.

He walked back to your room as you sat in bed reading your book, once you saw Arvin you were quick to put it down, “so? What is it arvin? Do we have to start praying,” you stood up as he was quick to hold you sitting you down, “no honey, well maybe, it's all good were havin a baby,” he spat very happy, “you serious, oh my arvin, were havin a baby, oh arv,” you said tearing up, “hey hey, it's all good news, i married you for a reason, i ain't going nowhere, we are havin this baby,” he said as you looked over at him as you shook your head, “oh arv it's nothing like that, it's just…lenora, she would be here,” you said as he hugged you, “i know honey, but hey, if we have a girl we can name her lenora,” you nodded very happy, “we can oh god we can,” you both were over the moon and emotional all in the same boat not wanting this moment to be over. You worked so hard to be where you are, you were both thanking god, even arvin.

[oliversrarebooks]

The Rare Bookseller Part 21: Jameson's Threat

Masterlist

September 1925

TW: Captivity, mind control, hypnosis, abusive language, dehumanization

"Oh, he's much too rich for me. I just wanted to take a look at him, see how the ultra-wealthy eat."

"It's nice to see such a high-quality thrall. I'll admit, I'm impressed."

"I think he'd be a bit wasted on me. The sort of thrall you only bring out when there's fancy company, if you catch my meaning."

"I'm always on the lookout for a thrall that can be trusted with household matters, and I think he'd get along well with my Daisy."

Oliver spent what seemed like an eternity being poked and examined and remarked upon by vampire after vampire, all dressed in their Sunday best (not that vampires, he supposed, went to church) and all eager to catch a glimpse of the marquee merchandise. He bowed and introduced himself and tried to make himself appealing and subservient, and every time he wavered even slightly, Miss Lily was there to quiet him. He couldn't count on Lord Alexander, and he had to be sold, or risk a worse fate. That much was more than clear to him.

He derived at least some small comfort by the fact that he was in such high demand. He'd never experienced anything like it, always being the sort of person who was small and quiet and overlooked, even as far back as grade school.

"So this garbage is what passes for a luxury thrall in this city?" The vampire was pale as a ghost, with watery brown eyes and an expensive looking suit.

Distress shot through Oliver at the growled question. "I'm -- I'm sorry, sir, if I've offended --"

"Ugh, the thing talks," he said with a look of utter disgust. "I don't know why they allow this at a high-end auction. I don't need my livestock begging for their lives."

"Many of the patrons of our auction are looking for thralls capable of handling household chores, so we always offer some with their minds intact," said Miss Lily, in a tone that didn't fully mask her annoyance. "You're welcome to look at some of our other offerings if you're interested in fully erased humans."

"All the erased here are low grade, barely fit for a gutter leech. I'm not paying good money for bad blood. I could just have this one erased after I buy him," said Lord Jameson.

No level of trance was going to keep Oliver from panicking at that. "Sir -- but --"

"Quiet," said Lord Jameson, and the word sank Oliver -- not like when Miss Lily did it, but like being pulled under quicksand, chest constricted, struggling to breathe. "You'll be erased, rendered mute and illiterate, and live in my pens, and you'll be grateful for it. Dumb cattle."

Oliver gasped for air, the room spinning around him. He thought he'd escaped that fate. He'd consoled himself that was going to end up a servant, not necessarily the life he would have chosen, but a tolerable one. He thought he'd avoided having his precious intelligence stolen from him, being turned into nothing more than an animal. He was a fool. He'd always be in that sort of danger as long as he lived among vampires.

His knees hurt. He realized the reason why a second later -- he'd hit them on the wooden floor as he'd collapsed.

"Lord Jameson, I'm going to have to ask you to refrain from traumatizing the merchandise until you've paid for it!"

"As if he --"

Oliver's head was swimming. The voices around him became muffled. He felt as if he was outside his body, watching himself faint. Then everything went black.

"Oliver. Oliver!"

His eyes snapped open. Miss Lily was pulling him to a sitting position. He looked around frantically, but --

"I saw Lord Jameson out. He's gone," she said. "Damn him! You were doing so well."

"Is he --" said Oliver, coughing, his mouth dry. "Is he going to -- is he going to buy me, sir?"

"Here. Water," said Miss Lily, offering him a cup. She rubbed his back soothingly as he drank. "He may try. I can't promise you he won't. And he is rich. But there are others interested in buying you as well."

"I'm sorry, Miss Lily, but I don't want him to -- "

"I know. I understand. Take a deep breath for me, Oliver, and be quiet."

He did as she instructed and welcomed the blankness that invaded his mind.

"Oliver, dear, look at me," she said, and her fingers were fluttering in front of his face. "Watch. Back and forth. You're so tired. Sleepy. Watch my fingers. Making you sleepy," she said in a rapid patter. "Relax. Sleepy. Back and forth. Eyes are closing. Watch my fingers. Getting sleepy. Shut your eyes. Go to sleep."

The hypnotic commands overwhelmed Oliver's already overwhelmed mind, and his eyes fell shut, his head resting on Miss Lily's shoulder.

"That's it, Oliver. Just take a little nap and you'll feel so much better. Forget about what just happened. Let it grow hazy in your mind. Sleep and forget, dear, sleep and forget."

There wasn't any real comfort here, just a vampire hypnotizing him into complacency, but even an artificial peace was better than none. He allowed his thoughts to slip, the memory of what had just occurred to dull. He curled against Miss Lily, who patted his hair with a cold hand and whispered suggestions of sleep in his ear.

"Oliver, Oliver dear, are you feeling better now?" Miss Lily's voice sounded like it was coming from far away. "I have an old friend who wants to see you. Wake up."

He rubbed at his eyes, wondering how long he'd been out for. He was still in a showroom, Miss Lily holding the chain of his handcuffs, and he wasn't... quite... sure what had just happened, only that it had been awful.

Miss Lily helped him to his feet. "Thanks for waiting, Ruth. He's normally a doll, but we ran into a little trouble with Jameson."

"Oh, it's no trouble!" The nearby vampire was wearing a well-tailored suit and had a fashionable bob cut. "Jameson also makes me wish to curl up into a ball and die, so I fully understand." The two laughed.

Lord Jameson. Yes. That had been it. He had threatened Oliver with a fate far worse than death. Thanks to Miss Lily, it seemed further away, bearable. After all, Lord Jameson was only one of several people who were interested in buying him.

"Pleased to meet you, sir," Oliver said, bowing to Miss Ruth.

"How polite and dapper," Miss Ruth said. "Let me take a good look at you." She took Oliver's chin and turned it back and forth, looked him deep in the eye, then grasped his arms to have him turn around in a circle, his ball gown swishing. "Fine stock. Excellent blood. And you say he has his intelligence still?"

"Yes, his mind is well-preserved, if I do say so myself," said Miss Lily. 

"Excellent." Miss Ruth had an odd gleam in her eye as she addressed Oliver. "I'm a lawyer, boy, and my thralls pull double duty as my clerks. If I buy you, I'll work you to the bone. Paperwork up to your neck, filing as far as the eye can see. You won't get that with any other vampire here. What do you think of that?"

So, effectively the opposite of Lord Jameson -- but the normal unappealing prospect of spending the rest of his life doing unpaid clerical work for a vampire seemed like paradise compared to having his mind wiped and living in an animal pen. "I'd be honored that you appreciate my intelligence, sir."

She nodded approvingly. "Good answer, boy. Let's see how well trained you are. Eyes on me. Name and date of birth."

"Oliver Pines, July 1, 1899, sir."

"What's the capital of Vermont, New York, Florida?"

"Montpelier, Albany, and uh -- Tallahassee. Sir."

"Three branches of the government."

"Legislative, executive, judicial, sir."

"Stand on one foot and hop three times."

He dutifully did so, thankful that he hadn't been given women's shoes to wear as his stockinged foot thumped on the floor. There was something strangely nice about being commanded like this, of having his simple obedience rewarded.

"Well done. Now go to sleep." She snapped near his ear, and Oliver was out like a light, caught in Miss Ruth's arms. "Awake." And he was up again, blinking.

"Yes, he'd do, he'd do quite well. I'm sure he'd easily pick up the training he needs," she said. "Shame about the price, but we'll see."

"I hope I can be of service to you, sir," said Oliver. Any option in the mix that reduced his chances of being purchased by Lord Jameson was fine by him.

Part 20 >> Masterlist >> Part 22

Thanks for reading this story of Oliver's distress.

@d-cs @latenightcupsofcoffee @thecyrulik @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @wanderinggoblin @whumpyourdamnpears @only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are @pressedpenn @pigeonwhumps @amusedmuralist @snakebites-and-ink @sl33py-pup @diamond-blade-blog @ivycloak @ladyjaye13 @irregular-book